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venusheartsyou2 · 2 months ago

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me and my husband | bucky barnes

summary: bucky asks a lot of you. like that time he asked you to marry him, no-strings-attached, of course.

pairing: congressman!bucky x fem!reader.

warnings: explicit. 18+ only, MDNI. afab!reader. marriage of convenience. many mentions of alcohol and drinking! yearn city over here, reader is a chronic people pleaser, hurt/comfort, domestic fluff, tad bit of angst. flashbacks to endgame, mention of steve and nat death & grieving. mention of benjamin poindexter. vague timeline. oral (female receiving), piv sex, unsafe sex, no use of y/n.

wc: 10.6K (FUUUCK)

a/n: oh my holy guaca-freaking-mole. this. took. fucking FOREVER to write. i hope yall like it, i really do. anyways.. self-indulgent! yippee!!

EDIT: i forgot bucky cant get drunk. please pretend he can for my sake.

heavily inspired by love me more by byexbyez (aka the better written version of this trope, lol)

The soup you made earlier in the day had gone cold. Chicken noodle. It wasn’t your favorite, but your husband usually asks for it when you offer to cook. Your husband’s late again, but that wasn’t out of the ordinary. He was busy. He always is. Life as a congressman isn’t easy. It’s monotonous, boring, and soul-sucking. As much as the empty yet somewhat grand house bothered you, you learned to get over its suffocating hallways.

The sound of keys jingling in the door knob breaks you out of your little trance. The key sounds act as a little warning that someone’s coming in. Bucky enters quietly and he knocks off his shoes and removes his worn out tuxedo jacket and leaves on the coat hanger next to the door.

“Long day?” You ask. Bucky didn’t expect you to be up still, proven by the little jump he does when he hears your voice. He sighs, it’s just you.

“Yeah, when isn’t it?” He responds. You let out a light breath disguised as a laugh.

“Made soup. It’s a bit cold now, but I can go warm it up if you’d like.” You say as you start heading to the kitchen.

“I’m not that hungry.” Bucky replies. Bucky’s reluctance to eat made you bitter, however there was no use. Behind closed doors, there was no need for pretending. Bucky had asked you to sign that marriage license, however long ago, but there was no sentiment tied to it. It was simply a means to an end.

“You should eat Bucky. I’ll leave it out.” You respond, trying not to push too much. Bucky simply nods, a sign he’s not too interested in continuing chatting. At least when the topic is about him. Stage fright, maybe.

Bucky nervously fidgets with the cuff of his shirt. After a moment, Bucky lets out a deep breath and breaks his silence. “You’re gonna hate me.”

Your immediate reaction is anxiety. “What did you do?” You say, cocking your head slightly.

“There’s a charity event tomorrow.. ”

“Yeah, and?”

“I made a promise I would come.” Bucky says. What Bucky means to say is, ‘we would come’, but he thinks laying you into the news slowly will make your reaction easier to handle.

You would be fine with it, usually. You knew that these superficial galas and events came with Bucky’s profession. The only problem was that your mother was visiting the city for the day, and you had full-day plans for dinner and catching up. Bucky knew about them, as you told him the moment it was planned.

Your lack of a response was enough for Bucky. “I’m sorry. I know you have plans with your mother.” He says, apologetic enough to seem genuine.

“And I have to go?” You ask.

“It would look weird if you didn’t.” He responds. It’s always about looks, isn’t it?

“Right.” You reply, already planning out a long apology text to your mother, who would definitely understand. Can’t help but feel bad. You whip out your phone to start texting your mother.

“I’m buying a dress for you to wear tomorrow.” Bucky says, hoping that works as an incentive.

“Did you choose the dress, or did your secretary? You know I like her taste in fashion better.” You grin at Bucky for a second, then you look back down at your phone to begin typing your large paragraph of an apology.

“She helped.” Bucky laughs weakly. He can’t help but look at you frantically typing.

“Well, I’ll leave the soup out if you want it. You should eat something. ‘Gonna be a long day tomorrow too.” You say, finally, after you send your apology.

Bucky purses his lips and nods. “Okay. Thanks.” He says, so casually.

If anyone had seen how the two of you talk, they would assume you were roommates. Which you essentially were. The two of you weren’t very romantic, at least when the both of you were sober, or while you weren’t in the public eye, of course. Any non-public romantic passes were swiftly ignored the next day. It’s not that you didn’t find Bucky attractive, because you most certainly did, it was mainly the fact that Bucky made it clear from the beginning this relationship was strictly for political gain. Nothing really so hot and heavy about that.

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning then, Bucky.” You yawn as you head to your bedroom, which was a guest bedroom that Bucky randomly assigned you.

“See you. Be ready by 6PM.” Bucky tells you off-handedly. You give him a thumbs up as you walk to your room.

It’s hard for you to go to sleep, usually. It’s partially your fault. You know that being on your phone before bed isn’t best for getting the optimum amount of sleep. However, you find yourself researching your husband’s political moves every night. Bucky hasn't been able to pass a single bill since he joined Congress, so you note to yourself to avoid talking about that while at the event tomorrow. You hated studying in school, but yet you find yourself studying every night. You have to present yourself as a good wife, or at least a believable one.

You sigh, shutting off your phone after reading a large amount of hate comments on Bucky’s surprising political career. People don’t like change, or at least the fact that an ex-assassin somehow got into office. You shrug it off. Weirder stuff has happened, anyway.

You groan as you get out of bed. You accepted the fact you just weren’t going to get your desired hours of sleep tonight. Maybe it’ll be easier to go to bed after a glass of water?

You walk downstairs into the kitchen to get your glass of water. You enter to see Bucky, sitting with his laptop, with a bunch of paperwork splayed all over the kitchen island. Bucky hears the sounds of your footsteps, and he smiles at you weakly when he sees you. He’s tired, it’s clear by the look on his face.

You walk over next to Bucky, looking at all of his work. Just a bunch of political mumbo-jumbo; nothing of interest to you. You rub Bucky’s shoulder and neck, trying to massage what you can without seeming too touchy. Bucky groans a little, and he’s broken out of his little trance. He realizes just how tired he really is.

Bucky pats your hand on his shoulder and gently takes your hand off him. You’re not sure if that gesture was too affectionate. It shouldn’t be, but you can’t risk making anything awkward. “Thanks.” Bucky mumbles, his voice almost at a whisper. He rubs his eyes and yawns.

“You should go to sleep. You’ll work better after sleeping.” You tell Bucky, as you always do. You see an empty, used bowl. Bucky ate your food. You find yourself smiling.

“You like it?” You ask, heading towards the pot of soup that was sitting on the stove. You mix the soup around.

“It was perfect, thank you.” Bucky grins.

You grab a spoon and taste the soup you had made.

What the hell was Bucky talking about? It was the most watery, unflavorful soup you had made yet. And the soup you usually make is nowhere near gourmet. “What the hell are you talking about? This is ass.” You grimace at the taste.

Bucky grins and shrugs. “Tasted good to me.”

“HYDRA must’ve fucked you up bad.” You joke. Were HYDRA jokes too far? You were about to find out.

To your relief, Bucky let out a light laugh. “Guess they did. I’m just lucky that someone is willing to cook for me at all.”

You smile at Bucky, while continuing to stir the pot of soup. “It’s not a big deal. I’m glad you’re willing to eat it.” You say, while adding copious amounts of salt and herbs to make up for the lackluster taste.

After a moment, Bucky reveals, “I called your mom.”

You turn around. “You did?” You ask, looking a little concerned. Your mother didn’t know the true nature of you and Bucky’s real relationship. When you had told her the news, she was excited that her only daughter was getting married, but she was furious about the fact that she had never known about him before. Which is understandable. However, it wasn’t like you had much time before the fake marriage ceremony to introduce him.

You had asked for a wedding. With a nice dress. As a kid, you had always dreamed of having a perfect wedding, where most of the focus was just on you and your future partner. Bucky tried to deliver, but the wedding just didn’t feel complete. Probably from the lack of true feelings on either party, or the fact that you had to prepare for a new life under spotlight and public scrutiny soon.

The wedding you had was small, mainly just family and select friends. The only proof of the wedding’s existence was a photo you had taken with Bucky at the altar, along with the grotesque amount of photos your mother insisted on taking. You told her to keep the photos private, to which she begrudgingly agreed. All that, and yet the wedding also didn’t feel complete without Natasha there, as she was the woman who had introduced the two of you to one another many years ago.

It’s still weird Nat’s gone. You thank her for a lot of things. She provided you with your first job in the city. She convinced Tony that the Avengers needed a manager to handle all of their public appearances. She then convinced Tony that it should be you, and even with Tony’s unbearable stubbornness, she got you that job. It was there when you met Bucky, or the Winter Soldier, as he was named at the time.

“She wasn’t too mad about you canceling.” Bucky says about your mother, which knocks you out of your trance.

“She wasn’t? That’s a relief.” You respond.

“I’m still sorry that you had to cancel. I’ll make it up to you one day.” Bucky promises. While you’re sure Bucky means to keep the promise, he’s always so busy with work, so you wonder how long you’ll have to wait for Bucky to make it up to you — with whatever he plans to do.

“It’s fine, Bucky.” You shrug off as an instinct.

Bucky looks remorseful, but he doesn’t say anything more about it. “Good night then.”

“Night.”

In the morning, you wake up to an empty house. Bucky leaves for work early in the morning. You work from home – something you had wished for a while – but you have to admit, it gets pretty lonely. After a long day of pointless powerpoints and spreadsheets, you get a text from Bucky’s secretary.

“Mr. Barnes will be bringing your dress for tonight in 30 minutes.” She texts you, overly formal. You’ve told her that there’s no need to be formal, but she insists as she’s on the clock.

Bucky gently knocks on your door. You turn to see him with a box in his hands. “Surprise.”

You grin. “Wow, a present for me?” You say as you open the box. It’s a gorgeous white dress with gold accents. What a surprise – there’s no way Bucky picked this out himself.

“Mia.” Bucky mentions his secretary, notioning that it was her idea. You look up at him and nod. “Makes sense.”

You check your watch. 4:30PM. “I should start getting ready soon.”

“You’ll look good either way.” Bucky compliments, seeming more affectionate than it should. You clear your throat. “That’s kind of you, Bucky.”

“I’ll leave you to it.” Bucky says, leaving the box on your bed.

You say bye, as you start unfolding the dress. How the hell do you put this thing on? The dress had two strips of loose fabric, which were meant to be tied together in the back, similar to that of a halter top. At least you think they’re meant to be tied. You brace yourself to fit into this dress. You squeeze in a little, as the dress is a little tight in the back.

The dress was cute, from what you could see. The dress still needed to be tied, and there wasn’t a way for you to reach the back of the dress. You sigh a little as you try your best to make a knot. “Bucky?” You shout out.

“Yeah?” He calls out from downstairs.

“Can you come up?” You ask.

You can hear Bucky’s footsteps slowly come closer to your room. You turn around. The top of the dress folds over the waist of the dress. You turn around, your back facing the door, as your chest is exposed, and you’re not so keen on giving Bucky an unwanted surprise when he enters your room.

Bucky enters your room, surprised to see your torso exposed. He clears his throat and asks you what you need. You tell him to tie the back, instructing him on how to assemble the knot.

“Tie it tight.”

Bucky hums a little ‘mm-hm’. As he finishes the knot, you turn back around to show off the dress. “How does it look?”

Bucky grins a little. “Perfect.”

–

Later, you and Bucky enter the fancy ballroom. Charity events were a bore to you, as bad as that sounds. It always surprised you how much money people had to just give so freely, as you had grown up with so little. Perhaps it was best not to focus on that. It’s good that these people are donating so much for good causes.

Bucky had cleaned up, his hair was slicked back and he was in his best suit. Your hair was tied up and curled neatly. It had taken forever to do, so at least it turned out nicely. You accessorized with gold jewelry, to match with the gold accents of the dress, of course.

Bucky’s arm lays on the small of your back. Servers pass by with champagne and hors d'oeuvres, to which you pick up naturally.

Small talk between politicians killed you. You could not think of a bigger waste of time. You could feel the venom in each of the politicians' voices, but it’s hidden by smiles and charming personalities. You know what you have to do. Smile big, and only speak when spoken to. Best to avoid any slip-ups.

“You’re doing great, just focus on me.” Bucky whispers into your ear. You cough off the warm feeling in your chest.

“Congratulations on the wedding. Still in the honeymoon phase, are you?” A wife of a congressman asked.

“Very much so.” Bucky responded, looking at you with love in his eyes. He’s a good actor. You smile back as you place a hand on his chest.

“She gets me through my day.” Bucky adds, and a flurry of ‘aww’s’ follow suit. You swiftly push down the growing lump in your throat. Gotta act natural.

As you and Bucky break away from the group of people, you find yourself by the sidelines, people-watching. Bucky had left to go network, or whatever it is that he does. You had him in your line of sight, which comforted you in this large crowd.

You drink your champagne, unassuming.

“Mrs. Barnes?” A man asks out to you, seemingly out of nowhere. You jump a little at the surprise.

“Didn’t mean to scare you.” The man laughs as he slowly inches up to you. Your neck cranes upward to look at the man’s face, as he’s much taller than you.

“Of course not,” You grin, “You just caught me off guard.”

The man rubs the back of his neck. “My apologies.” You shrug it off.

“I was trying to reach Mr. Barnes, but he seems to be occupied.” The man sighs as he shoots a glance at Bucky.

“Am I just your next best option, then?” You ask, smiling.

The man turns back to you. “Of course not.” He insists with a charming smile. You’re quick to brush it off and assure him it’s alright.

“Benjamin Poindexter. Most people call me Dex.” He reaches his hand out with a grin. You tell him your name and shake his hand, his grip steady and firm.

“Am I allowed to call you Dex?”

“Call me whatever you like.” He says with a wink. You laugh. As your eyes wander back into the crowd, you see Bucky stare from across the ballroom. You notice that he isn’t paying full attention to the man he’s talking to. You pay no mind and go back to your conversation with Dex.

You invite Dex to people-watch with you, and it’s easy to convince him.

“These events are such a drag.” He mentions off-handedly. You let out a sigh of relief. “Aren’t they?” You respond, more enthusiastically than you have been this entire time at this gala.

“Just a huge flaunt of money.” Dex notes.

“It is. At least it’s for a good cause.” You try to reason.

“I’m sure they could do that without all the pointless attractions.” Dex sighs. You laugh as you stare at all the grand decor, live music, and grand meals. It’s true, this entire thing was just so obnoxious to you. “You get me.” You say.

Dex grins at you as he lightly places his hand on your shoulder. “At least you look lovely tonight.”

“Are you flirting with me, Dex? You know I’m a married woman.” You roll your eyes and grin, your eyes pointed towards the ground.

“Of course not,” Dex responds, “Unless you’d like me to.”

Your eyes widen at his boldness and laugh Dex’s advances off. “You’re funny.”

Dex doesn’t respond, his only response being the faint upward curling of his lips. Before you get to speak again, Bucky appears by your side.

“I’m sorry, could I steal my wife from you for a second?” Bucky says with a tight-lipped grin.

“Oh, of course-” Dex starts to say, only to be cut off by Bucky swiftly grabbing your hand and dragging you out of there.

“Oh, Bucky, Dex — or Benjamin — wanted to speak with you-” You try to say to your husband.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll get to that later.” Bucky says, not paying attention.

“Are you okay? What are you doing?” You whisper to Bucky once he fully removes you from Dex’s presence.

“How do you think I look when my wife’s too busy giggling with another man?” Bucky mutters into your ear. You pull back.

“It wasn’t like that-” You say, naively.

“Course it wasn’t,” He spits out, and a brief silence follows.

After taking a deep breath, Bucky says, “Just stick by me for the rest of the night, okay?”

You frown slightly, your face turning sour. “Right, okay.”

The rest of the night killed you. Every boring conversation felt even longer than it had before. It wasn’t helping that Bucky kept his grip on your waist tighter than usual. You counted down the seconds until this stupid gala was over, all with a big smile on your face.

You couldn’t ignore the looks Dex would shoot at you occasionally, but you didn’t let your gaze linger.

The car ride back home was quiet. You couldn’t tell if Bucky was still angry, his face was unreadable.

You two finally get back home, and the door shuts with a click. Bucky immediately lets out a deep sigh. You take that as a sign to initiate your go-to unwind routine, which usually consists of ordering Chinese and drinking. Hopefully Bucky will warm up to you again with some food in his stomach.

“Chinese?” You ask, waiting for Bucky’s go-ahead.

“Yeah. Sounds good.” Bucky says, his voice void of any emotion.

You fight the urge to ask Bucky if he’s still mad at you, best not to disturb the lion.

The ring of the doorbell notifies you that the takeout was finally here.

“So, talk to anyone interesting tonight?” You ask as you and Bucky sit down next to each other at your small dinner table.

“Never.” Bucky lets out a light breath of amusement. He watches you as you crack open wooden chopsticks for the both of you. You frown slightly at the uneven crack of the chopsticks.

As you hand over better separated chopsticks to Bucky, you stand up to grab drinks from the kitchen. “Beer?” You ask.

“Always.” He says as he chews on his noodles.

You grab a beer from the fridge, opening it up for Bucky. You grab a wine glass for yourself, pouring your favorite red wine into it.

As you hand over the beer to Bucky, he nods his head as a way of thanking you.

The dinner between the two of you is silent. Not that that’s necessarily weird, as you and Bucky have grown accustomed to uncomfortable silences.

“I’m sorry.” You apologize mindlessly. “For Dex.”

Bucky sighs as he finishes chewing his greasy noodles. “It’s fine. Just.. I don’t want anyone to suspect anything.” Bucky admits.

“Right.” You say, not putting up a fight. The idea of making Bucky angry makes your stomach bubble up in anxiety. You don’t want Bucky to smell your worry, so you bite your cheek to stifle it down.

— 13 YEARS EARLIER (POST CAPTAIN AMERICA: THE WINTER SOLDIER)

“He doesn’t talk a lot, but I think he just needs some time to readjust.” Natasha says as the both of you walk past the room of the new addition to the Avengers Tower. HYDRA had called him the Winter Soldier, but Steve calls him Bucky. Steve’s very adamant the rest of the Avengers (and also you) call him Bucky too.

It was your first week at your new job of being the Avenger’s manager. You’re still not sure how Natasha managed to snag this job for you, but it was better to not to question anything. You just couldn’t believe your luck.

Tony seemed apprehensive towards letting you in, but whether he liked it or not, the Avengers were becoming public figures, and they needed someone to manage their schedules. The rest of the Avengers didn’t seem to mind your presence; you were sure they had bigger things to worry about — like the state of the universe, for example.

Natasha had known you for at least a year prior to you moving to New York. She had saved you in an attack in your small hometown. You had no idea what she was doing in a small town like yours, but she had many secrets. You were just thankful she was in the right place and the right time.

As you and Natasha mindlessly tour the tower, you bump into a man much taller than you. It was Bucky.

“Oh— sorry about that.” You apologize instinctively.

Bucky looks at you bewildered. Well, you note that he kind of just always looks that way. It must be hard for him. You knew he was still fighting off the last bits of HYDRA’s brainwashing. It was best to just let him do his own thing, even if his hard stares felt like they were burning holes into your skin.

— PRESENT

You and Bucky finish eating the take-out noodles. They never get any less greasier. There’s spots of grease along Bucky’s mouth. You laugh and gesture to his mouth. “Got something on your face, Bucky.”

“Ah, shit—” Bucky groans as he tries to wipe it off with his hand. It’s unsuccessful, he’s just spread it around instead of getting rid of it.

“Here.” You say as you grab a napkin and start wiping his mouth for him. Bucky tilts his head up towards you as you hold his face. You wipe his lips, cheeks, and chin. You’re too focused on cleaning Bucky’s face that you don’t realize how flustered Bucky looks. “Done.”

You go to wash the oil off your hands in the kitchen sink. Bucky clears his throat to regain composure.

Little moments of soft domesticity like this make this makeshift marriage feel more real. Sometimes, it’s hard reminding yourself that it’s not.

“I should go to bed soon.” You note. You don’t want to end the night early, but you don’t want to seem too desperate for Bucky’s presence.

“Course. Right.” Bucky says. His lack of willingness to keep you around makes you frown. But you know there wasn’t anything to expect. At least it’s a guarantee that you’ll keep seeing him around.

The next morning, you wake up earlier than Bucky. It’s quite rare, knowing your sleep schedule. There’s sounds coming from Bucky’s bedroom. Muttered curses and frantic scribbling. You knock on his door. “Can I come in?”

Bucky looks at the door, his eyes tired. “Oh, yes, come in.”

He looked like a mess. He had fallen asleep at his desk. He was still wearing his suit from last night. That must’ve been uncomfortable, not to mention dirty. “Bucky— are you okay?” You ask, your eyebrows furrowing.

“Mmm, yeah. Perfect.” Bucky says as he stares at his endless pile of paperwork. You sigh as you turn Bucky towards you in his spinny-chair. “I have to go to work soon.” He yawns.

“Yeah, you do.” You respond. He wasn’t close to ready. “Come on, get up.”

Bucky doesn’t protest. He lets you drag him into his walk-in closet. There were a plethora of suits that all looked the same. You pick the first one you see, and shove it into Bucky’s hands. “Put those on.” You tell him as you turn around, to give him privacy.

Bucky does as you say, yawning as he does it. He would usually resist your attempts to help him, especially with tasks so mundane as this, but he was too tired to think. You grab a random necktie and wrap it around Bucky’s neck. Luckily for you, you had spent many hours studying on how to tie a necktie for the day of your wedding. You tie the necktie with swiftness. It’s a little lopsided, but it’ll do. You adjust his tie one last time, patting your hand on his chest as you finish. “Good.”

Bucky smiles weakly. “Thank you, I don’t think I could get anything done without you.”

You let out an amused breath. “I’m barely any help.” You say, as you pick up from stray clothes from off the floor.

Bucky softly smiles and shakes his head, while looking at the large mirror. “I’ll take all the help I can get.”

“When’s your next day off?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Good. You need the rest, Bucky.” You say. Bucky grins weakly, looking at the ground.

A pause.

“You know, I’m not sure what the hell I’m even doing.” He admits.

It sure was weird seeing Bucky open up. In the grander scheme of things, Bucky wasn’t being vulnerable at all. However, Bucky isn’t one to talk about himself — at all, really. Emotions made him feel antsy. Especially his own.

“Politics isn’t easy, Bucky. I’m sure you’ll grow into it.” You attempt to say some comforting words. You rub one of his shoulders to ground him, or something.

“No.” Bucky laughs lightly as he shakes his head. “I don’t know the first thing about this shit.” Bucky couldn’t admit that his whole sham of a political career was just a ploy to ethically inch himself towards Valentina Allegra de Fontaine. Val was hiding something, and Bucky was going to figure it out. That didn’t mean his wife had to be dragged into this.

You purse your lips, unsure of what to say.

“Steve would know what to do.” Bucky sighs. Nowadays, Bucky hasn’t mentioned Steve as much as he used to, but that didn’t mean he never stopped thinking about him.

— 4 YEARS AGO (POST ENDGAME)

There wasn’t much noise from the Avengers anymore. Everyone had gone their own way, feeling lost after the loss of Tony, Natasha, and Steve. You feel sick to your stomach whenever you think about Natasha. Your friend, gone just like that — all for some stupid orange stone. You couldn’t bear to see Clint, his grief clouded him and invaded the space to those around him. You wish you could help him, but you couldn’t even help yourself. You're just grateful Clint at least has his loving family around him.

As you walk around Central Park, you see a familiar face. Bucky. His metal arm stuck out like a sore thumb. The two of you had become acquaintances, and maybe even friends? You could never read him. You also hadn’t talked to him in a while, as he was too busy helping save the fate of the universe. You know, the usual. As you walk up to him, you tap his shoulder and ask, “This spot open?”

Bucky looks up at you and grins weakly. He says your name and scoots on the bench to invite you in.

“How are you holding up?” You ask a dumb question. Everyone was grieving.

“Fine.” Bucky lies. You lean back on the bench.

“Wish I could say the same. I don’t really know what to do with myself.” You laugh, awkwardly.

“Yeah. Same.” Bucky says, seemingly distant.

You and Bucky sit in the silence for a second. “Talked to anyone recently?” You ask.

“Saw Sam a couple of days ago. He’s really busy right now.” Bucky sighs.

“How’s he?”

“Stressed. Steve giving him the shield really put a lot of pressure on him.”

“Can’t imagine what he’s feeling right now.”

There’s another awkward silence as your topic of discussion runs its course.

That’s when you had an idea. You two shouldn’t have to continue living in limbo. You were gonna ask Bucky to hang out, so the both of you guys could be less alone together. Innocent and easy, yeah?

“Let’s get drinks, Bucky.” You ask. He seems confused, but anything sounds better than rocking himself to sleep.

“Really?”

“Why not? I’ve been sitting around for weeks. Steve and Nat would want us to keep living, don’t you think?” You reason.

“I think you’re right. That sounds good.” He says as he gives a small grin.

You get up from the bench and give a hand to Bucky, “C’mon, I know a place.”

Hours passed by, and the night didn’t go quite as well as you planned. You heavily underestimated how much alcohol you could tolerate, as you hadn’t drank in quite some time, and Bucky got carried away trying to drown out his sorrows. Luckily, you could still control yourself, at least when you really focus.

You managed to call an Uber to your apartment. Bucky wraps his arm around you as the two of you stumble into your house. Bucky was sure to regret everything tomorrow morning. But for now, he took his chance to let down his inhibitions and connect with someone else. Bucky hadn’t stopped talking about Steve, which was fine, since you just replied with your own grief about Natasha. The two of you flop on your couch.

“Can’t believe he’s really gone.” He hiccups. “Me neither.”

“He was the greatest.” Bucky mumbles as he lays his head on your couch.

“Natasha was so kind.” You mumble.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do.” Bucky says.

You look at Bucky, his eyes low and fluttery. His lashes look beautiful as Bucky blinks. You sigh as you continue to peer into Bucky’s soul. Bucky would normally feel exposed, but he feels a sense of company he hasn’t felt in a long time. “Me neither.” You say.

There’s a lingering silence. Steve and Nat wouldn’t want the both of you guys drinking yourselves to death over them. The two of you knew that, but it was easier said than done.

“I just feel so alone.” Bucky says as he looks at you. You grab Bucky’s hand, squeezing it tight. You’re unsure of what to say. You should say something comforting, but you feel the same. You feel the same agonizing isolation he feels. You muster up something somewhat comforting to say. “I’m here, you’re not alone.” You say. You wish emotional maturity didn’t feel and sound as corny as it did.

Bucky looks at you. It’s softer than the gaze he would look at you with when the two of you met first at the Avengers Tower. He breathes slowly before he says, “I’m sorry.”

Bucky cups your jaw, and inches himself closer to you. He places a kiss on your mouth. You back away from him a second. He curses to himself, did he mess it up? Maybe he misread the bonding experience the two of you both shared. Maybe you didn’t feel as alone as him, or maybe you didn’t need this as much as he did.

You lean back in, kissing Bucky roughly. Your mouths morphed into one. Quick breaths are taken in between kisses. It was as if kissing was your life-line, and if either one of you were to break it, you would die. Your nose was pressed so hard against Bucky’s face, it felt as though it could break. Your hands were clasped around Bucky’s jaw, your fingers spilling onto his neck. You could feel his heartbeat thunder against his throat. His face was scruffy from his stubble. He felt rough in your hands.

As you break away from the kiss, the both of you take deep gasps of air. Bucky doesn’t seem to mind, as he pins his focus on your cheek and jaw. He peppers kisses all along your cheekbones, nose, jaw, and neck.

“Jesus, Bucky..” You whisper out.

The night continues, and you wake up the next morning with you and Bucky’s clothes scattered all over your bedroom floor. Your head felt like it could pop. You felt nauseous as you propped yourself up in your bed. Your twin XL bed wasn’t enough space for you and Bucky. He was nearly falling off the side. You still had enough memories from last night, thankfully. You weren’t sure how Bucky was going to react to it. Shit, maybe this was a bad idea.

— PRESENT

You and your mother had re-planned your previous plans. Your mother was a kind break from the rest of the things on your mind. As you and your mother sat at an outside table outside a quaint little cafe, she let out a little sigh as she looked at you.

“You know, the rest of the family still wants to meet him.” She mentions Bucky.

You loved your mother, but you didn’t love her nagging. “Yeah. Yeah. They’ll meet him soon.”

“You always say that.” Your mother says, as she takes a sip of her coffee. You sigh as you ignore your mother.

After a moment, you finally respond. “I sent them our wedding photos. Surely that’ll hold them over for now.”

“They’re all so nosy. They want to meet him in person.”

You frown. “Bucky’s shy. It’ll happen eventually, mom — trust me.”

“Whatever you say.”

Your apprehension for having Bucky meet your family was understandable. Your family was a lot to deal with, as with every family, you assume. You were scared that Bucky would get scared. You’re not worried about Bucky leaving you over anything, as you were safe as long as Bucky was still a congressman with a ‘family-man’ reputation to uphold. The possibility of Bucky leaving after his term ended made you feel uneasy. Hopefully he likes you enough to keep you around.

— A YEAR AGO (PRE THUNDERBOLTS*)

Bucky had called you to meet him at a nearby bar where he was at the moment. Bucky and you had become proper friends. Friends who don’t really talk about that time they hooked up approximately 3 years ago. You had heard whispers from people of Bucky’s potential political career. Of course, it didn’t make sense to you. But you weren’t one to discourage one from their goals.

You walk into the dingy bar, and wave to Bucky. “How are you, Bucky?” You say as you sit in the seat next to him, making small talk.

“Fine. As good as I can be.” Bucky shrugs, his beer hanging loosely in his hands. You order your usual drink, and Bucky tells the bartender to put it on his tab. Always the gentleman.

“So, what’d you call me for?” You ask.

“Good company. I don’t need an excuse to see you, do I?”

“Course not, Buck — Just didn’t expect it.” You say. You’re always the one who asks Bucky to hangout. The bartender hands you your drink. You thank them swiftly and look back to Bucky.

“It’s good seeing you, really.” Bucky says.

“Is it?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” Bucky laughs lightly. “You’re a good break from politics.”

“What are you even doing in politics, anyway?”

Bucky groans. “It’s all for public image, really,” He admits. “Wanna do some good out there, you know. It’ll help the public like me after my whole ‘Winter Soldier’ thing. You know.”

“I think you helping to save the universe did enough for your public perception.”

“People don’t like to forget the past.”

“Fair.”

Of course, Bucky didn’t mention Val. No reason to drag his friend into his ploy. The night went on, and you and Bucky continued catching up. You made sure not to overdrink, only feeling a little looser now than when you walked through the bar doors.

“People don’t really believe my whole campaign. My manager has been saying I need to make my reputation look better.” Bucky mumbles to you.

“How?”

“Well, he suggested I make myself look more family-oriented. Married with kids, and all that.”

You smile as you laugh into your drink. “Good luck with that.” You turn to Bucky silently observing you. His gaze makes you feel exposed. “Something on my face?”

“No, sorry. Just thinking.”

“Whatever you say, Bucky.”

You and Bucky walk out the bar; quite put together, thankfully. You tighten your grip around the handle of your shoulder purse. “Well, it was nice seeing you.”

“Course, you too.” Bucky says as you tap your phone, trying to find yourself an Uber.

“Wait.”

“Hm?”

Bucky cleared his throat, looking nervous and antsy. “You can say no. This is going to sound crazy.”

You furrowed your brows and smiled, timid. “What? Just say it, Bucky, you’re making me nervous.”

“You can say no.”

“Just fucking say it, Bucky.”

“Fine.” Bucky says. He still takes a moment to collect himself, his heartbeat beating out of his chest.

“Would you consider marrying me?” Bucky finally musters the courage to ask.

You stared at Bucky, your anxious grin still not leaving your face. He’s right, he does sound crazy.

“What are you talking about, Bucky?” You laugh as you shake your head.

“If I asked you, would you marry me?” Bucky repeats himself.

“You’re drunk.” You laugh off his question, awkwardly.

“You know how I am when I’m drunk.”

“You being sober doesn’t normally include you proposing.”

“You can say no.”

“Why are you even asking me that?”

Bucky flicks his fingers in anxiety. He asked out of desperation, the pressures of appearing family-oriented to the public weighed on him. Also, the fact you were previously the manager for the Avengers could also help with his public perception bullshit. You being attractive also helped. He wouldn’t say that out loud though, he had class.

“Doesn’t have to be real. Just has to look it.” Bucky says. “You can do your own thing, I can do mine.”

“This for your politics?” You guess correctly, rubbing your forehead.

Bucky sighs. “Yeah.”

“I’m not sure, Bucky.. This is a lot to ask—” You say, before getting cut off by Bucky.

“Just think about it. You can say no.“

You bite your bottom lip. “I’ll think about it.”

It’s been a few days since Bucky asked you to marry him. You hadn’t texted him since, being too scared to do so. Bucky beats himself over it. He was sure he messed up a good friendship for something so stupid; of course you’d say no. What was he thinking?

You walk back into your dark, empty apartment. The dishes you had refused to wash piled in your sink. It’s eerily silent. And cold. Your landlord was neglectful, proven by your heater that had been broken for weeks. You made up for the cold by buying more blankets. You couldn’t buy another portable heater just yet, you were late on last month’s rent. You were trying to find work after being blipped and after the Avenger’s disbanded.

You groan, your head laying back on the edge of the couch. Bucky’s offer didn’t sound so crazy. You’ve been to Bucky’s house a couple of times. A proper heater and A/C sounded more and more appealing. Not worrying about how you’re going to pay rent sounded more and more appealing. Not being so alone sounded appealing as well.

In your moment of desperation, you text Bucky back. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

— A WEEK AGO FROM PRESENT DAY

You were busy wiping the countertops as Bucky came back home. Bucky didn’t drink as much as he used to. You were surprised to smell alcohol off of Bucky’s clothes.

“I’m home.” Bucky calls out as he drops his bag down on the floor.

“Bucky.” You grin. You were happy that the house wasn’t going to feel as daunting as it did when you were alone. Bucky’s good company, whether or not you liked to admit it.

Bucky smiles at you. The smell of alcohol invaded your nostrils. “You drank?”

“Only a few drinks. One or two. Maybe three.” Bucky says. You roll your eyes, smiling softly.

“Jesus, Buck.”

“I’m not drunk.”

“Sure you aren’t.”

“Not.” Bucky says as he sits on the couch.

“Need anything? We got some leftovers, if you’d like.” You offer. Bucky looks back at you, tempted. You heat up food for him, and hand it to him carefully. “It’s hot, be careful.”

“What would I do without you?” Bucky says with his mouth stuffed with food.

“Probably die.” You say, as you pick off food from his face. Bucky giggles. “Yeah. Probably.”

Bucky brings his plate to the sink and starts to wash it. You attempted to do it for him, but Bucky insisted. He wanted to prove he didn’t need your help with everything — not that he really minded the help.

Bucky comes back to the couch. Later, he’s mindlessly watching TV as you’re attempting to read the book you promised to finish about 3 months earlier. His hot body lays on top of you. Like a custom heated, weighted blanket. Bucky’s hot body clashes with his abnormally cold metal arm. You’ve usually found yourself placing your hands on top of Bucky’s arm, as to cool your hands that are always hot. You and Bucky have formed your own mutualistic relationship. In terms of body heat.

The walls Bucky usually has up are lowered, thanks to the alcohol. He gently inches closer to you, resting his head on you. You smile softly. He’s usually like this when he’s a little tipsy. You can’t blame him, you know a lot of touchy drunks. You gently play with the ends of his long hair. Bucky nearly purrs from the soft sensation. He’s like a cat in your touch.

You lay on the couch, to which Bucky adapts and lays on your stomach, his arms wrapped around you. How silly. You continue brushing your hands through his scalp. The soft companionship makes you feel warm inside.

You had finished about 30 pages of your book when you realized that Bucky hadn’t spoken or moved much in a while. He had fallen asleep on you. You laugh as you look at the large man on you. It was a funny sight, for sure. You go back to reading your book. Reading usually makes you sleepy, though. It’s not a surprise that you fall asleep not too soon after.

— PRESENT

You fidget with the ring on your finger. It was a plain, gold band. You didn’t want to run through Bucky’s pockets when trying to pick out a ring. It would be nice to have a pretty ring, though. Bucky was going to come back home anytime now. He texted you that he was going to pick up food on the way back. You had nothing to do, no more work for the day and no food to cook for someone. It felt weird, but you tuned out the little itch in your head to be useful by mindlessly doom scrolling.

Bucky opens the door with his keys. He groans as he knocks off his shoes and takes off his jacket.

“What’d you get us?” You ask, from the couch.

“Thai.” Bucky mumbles as he lifts up the large bag to show you. He sounds tired.

“Oh, my favorite.” You say as you grab the large takeout bag from Bucky’s hands. You place the bag on the dinner table, and rush to grab cutlery for the two of you.

“Actually.. I think I’m gonna eat alone.” Bucky says as he grabs his food and laptop to bring to his room.

“Oh. Okay.” You say, disappointed. You don’t want to shove your company onto Bucky, so you just agree. Compliant wife, or whatever. Bucky didn’t stay long, he immediately headed towards his room. Did you do something wrong? Why was being like this?

After Bucky had got up and left for his room, you grabbed your portion of the food and brought it towards the coffee table in front of the TV. Eating alone while watching TV reminded you too much of your life before you decided to “marry” Bucky.

After approximately 30 minutes, Bucky walks out his bedroom, with his takeout trash in his hands. You get up, walking towards Bucky. “I can get that!” You say, desperately trying to help out.

“Oh—” Bucky says, surprised.

“You need anything, Buck? I can go fill up the tub, or clean your room. Ugh, I’m sorry I didn’t clean before, I really should’ve, that’s on me—” You ramble. Bucky cuts you off by saying your name.

“Stop. It’s.. it’s fine.” Bucky says, looking overwhelmed and overstimulated. You bite back a whimper as you nod your head. You so desperately want to be a helping hand, and yet now, you just feel like an overwhelming burden. “Sorry.”

Bucky purses his lips. “I’m just going to go to bed.” He says, as he throws his trash away by himself.

“Right. Okay. Goodnight.”

The next day, you stay at your friend’s place. You had the day off, and you thought it was best to spend the day with someone that wasn’t Bucky. Or your mom. During the day, you think back to how Bucky was last night. He has a lot on his plate. Maybe you really were being too much. As much as you didn’t wish for it to happen, you couldn’t stop thinking about Bucky.

The idea that you had planted into your own brain, the idea that Bucky might leave you after his term ends, haunted you. It seemed silly. He wouldn’t just leave, right? Well... there’s been no signs that Bucky would necessarily stay. He wasn’t obligated to, and neither were you. You wouldn’t leave, though. You’ve grown accustomed to your new life with Bucky. Bucky on the other hand, might want to return to his life of peace and quiet he had before he married you. God, this whole thing made you feel sick.

Your friend had seemed worried about you, but you were adamant you were fine. You didn’t allow her to worry about you. Nothing for her to worry about, after all.

It was late at night when you returned home. Using the keys Bucky gave you, you tried to enter as quietly as you could.

Bucky’s at the dinner table, looking concerned. He eases once he sees you.

“Where have you been?” He asks, standing from his chair.

“At a friend’s place.” You tell him. The conversation sends you flashbacks to your teenage years; when your parents would be worried sick about your whereabouts. Is this what your relationship with Bucky has amounted to? Some kind of parental relationship?

“You should’ve texted me.”

“Right.”

“I’m being serious.”

You feel uneasy, and also annoyed. Why the hell did Bucky care? You two weren’t actually together. Roommates don’t have to always know where the other one is. That doesn’t change with Bucky — who’s basically your glorified roommate.

“Sure.” You mumble.

Bucky glares at you. “What the hell’s your problem?” He asks. You don’t get into fights with Bucky often. Fighting also makes you anxious. Perfect combo for you.

“Nothing, Bucky.” You say, as you hang your bag and outdoor clothes on the nearby hangers.

“Obviously there’s something bothering you. Just spit it out.”

You roll your eyes, which makes Bucky’s jaw clench. Bucky doesn’t need to pretend he cares. “Let’s just leave this alone.” You say, as you try to head to the bathroom, to freshen up before going to bed.

“No. What’s going on with you?” Bucky says, as he grabs your arm, holding you back.

You stare at Bucky, taken back by his audacity. “Fine.”

Bucky drags you to the couch. The place where a week ago, you were sure Bucky and you had a proper, domestic moment. Maybe he didn’t think much of it. He was tipsy, after all. Would Bucky still want to be tender with you if he didn’t have a couple drinks in him? Did you sicken him that much?

“Why have you been avoiding me? Did I do something? Please— just tell me.” Bucky pleads, hints of worry speckled in his soft, blue eyes.

Being vulnerable never came easy to you. The feeling of burdening others with your mundane emotions made you feel sick. Feelings of anxiety bubbled from your stomach to your chest.

“I.. haven’t been avoiding you—” You say, before you’re swiftly cut off.

“You have been. I’ve texted you multiple times today.” Bucky says, matter-of-factly. You clear your throat, feeling too exposed.

“Okay, well..” You find yourself trailing off again.

“Jesus Christ.” Bucky says, while also saying your name, distressed. “Just fucking say it.”

Bucky’s attitude was out of control. You scoff with your eyebrows furrowed, staring holes into Bucky.

“Stop fucking doing that.” You say, biting your bottom lip in uneasiness.

“I will if you just fucking let me know what’s been up with you.”

“Fine! Fine.” You say, trying to sort your thoughts. How much are you willing to expose to Bucky? Are you really willing to spill to him that you actually do like him? Well, not that you’re like, in love with him or anything, but the idea you’ve planted in your head that Bucky might choose to leave you after he leaves his failing career in politics lingered in your brain. Shit, who were you kidding. You were in love with Bucky. You were in love with Bucky and it was eating you up alive. You’re not used to being so open. It feels so invasive.

“You can tell me anything.” Bucky attempts to be comforting, but he’s unsure of its effectiveness. He grabs your hands, and rubs loving circles with his thumbs. How unfair.

“You know, it’s stupid..” You say.

“Not stupid.” Bucky responds.

“I was just mad.. That you seemed distant. Last night.” You let out.

Bucky lets out a deep breath. “Right.”

“It’s stupid. It’s not like you always have to be around me.” You try to explain, but Bucky cuts you off short.

“No. It makes sense. I’ve been really stressed out recently.”

“No, no, right, right. That makes sense. I told you, it’s stupid.” You find yourself rambling over Bucky again. Bucky cuts you off by saying your name yet again.

“Stop. Breathe. It’s fine, really.”

You take a deep breath in. It makes you feel less like you’re about to pass out, but the antsiness never leaves your chest. Bucky places a hand on your knee that had been bouncing like crazy. You didn’t even realize it was shaking.

“Well, that can’t be it, right?” Bucky urges you to continue. You pick at your ring, a tic you’ve picked up on during the last couple of months.

“I just.. feel-like-a-burden-to-you.” You say quickly, hoping the faster you say it, the faster this whole conversation will end.

Bucky furrows his eyebrows. He looks almost.. hurt? “Why would you think that?” He says, almost too lovingly. What a considerate asshole.

“I just.. I know I overwhelm you. I just want to feel useful. Make you feel like you didn’t make a mistake in choosing me as your fake wife.”

“I fully knew what I was doing when I asked you.”

“I can’t help it.”

“You don’t have to prove anything to me.” Bucky says, quietly.

You fight back the urge to say, ‘You’re just saying that.’ He was just being nice. God, you hate that he managed to fish all this out of you. You felt so bare. Bucky knocks you out of your trance by saying your name.

“Look at me, okay? You don’t have to prove anything to me.” He says, with a face too genuine it makes your stomach churn. You spin your ring around your finger. How easy would it be to just give it back to him? He’s just gonna leave you anyway when he decides to leave politics.

“You should have this back.” You say, gesturing to the ring. You didn’t mean to be so dramatic in the way you decided to hand back Bucky his ring. Just fell out that way.

“What are you doing?” Bucky asks, looking bewildered.

“You shouldn’t feel obligated to keep being with me even after your term ends. This whole thing was to appear family-oriented to the public, right? So, when you’re done, you should be able to do your own thing. I don’t want to hold you back.” You let the words flow out your mouth. While it did make you feel like a burden had been lifted off your shoulders, with the way Bucky looked at you, it didn’t do much for making you feel any better.

“What?”

You sigh, biting your lip. Little droplets of blood bead at your lip from where you bit. You wipe it away, hoping Bucky doesn’t overanalyze how you’re acting.

“You should be able to meet someone else, you know. Someone you actually want to spend the rest of your life with. You don’t have to do this whole charity thing, you know.”

“Charity?” Bucky repeats, baffled. “Is that what you think?”

“You know, I’m surprised you hadn’t seen anyone during the time we were together. Missed opportunity, I think.”

“Jesus,” Bucky says, his words tinged with a slight tone of disappointment. You hate the way it makes you feel.

Bucky’s quiet for a moment, but you could tell small bits of anger was boiling inside him.

“That why you were so close and personal with that fucking guy— what was his name.. Dex? You thought I was out here, doing the same shit?” Bucky says, his jealousy reaching his throat, choking on his own words.

“I..” You struggle to find the words. “I wasn’t doing anything with that guy.”

“You know, the way you looked at him made me feel fucking sick. Jesus, I’d never want anyone to feel the way I felt then.”

“Jesus— Bucky, you’re making me sound like some kind of monster.” You scoff.

“And you’re making me sound any better?” Bucky retorts. Bucky’s words make you choke up on your own. “You make it seem I was just trying to use you.. Like I don’t appreciate you, at all.”

“Which isn’t true.” Bucky adds, at the last second.

You groan, sinking into the couch. It would be convenient if the couch swallowed you whole, right about now. It would save you the trouble.

“Talk to me.” Bucky pleaded, again. His eyes were glued onto you. His fleshy hand felt clammy.

“You’re going to hate me.” You mumble. “I could never.”

You take a deep breath in, trying to compose yourself the best you can. You’re so anxious, you can barely find the words you want to use.

“God.” You say.

“I fucking love you, okay? As if it’s not glaringly obvious. Fuck.” You say, to Bucky’s surprise. “I want to feel helpful, I want you to want me around you, and I want you to want me the way I want you.” You say, truthful, for once.

Bucky doesn’t know what to say. Well, he’s happy, of course. Thrilled, one could say. He didn’t want to jump at his chance to be with you so fast, out of fear of looking starved and desperate. But life was too short to worry about how he was perceived. His grin spread from cheek to cheek. You didn’t know if that was necessarily a good thing or a bad thing. His stupid, beautiful fucking face shone at you.

“Say something. I feel like I’m gonna vomit.” You say quietly.

“Jesus Christ. You know how long I’ve been waiting to hear that shit?” Bucky says before he clasps your face, bringing you towards his face with a clash. Bucky kisses you like he did that one night many years ago. But yet, now, it’s more caring. More careful. You melt like a puddle in his hands. This is everything you wanted, but your fear of underperforming haunts you.

“Just let me guide you.” Bucky breathes out, saying the perfect thing. It’s like he could read you. He knew you through and through. Bucky’s tongue slips into your mouth with ease. He lovingly kisses your top and bottom lip. He did exactly what you needed. He guided you through it.

Bucky grabs you by your thighs, lifting you up and taking you to his bedroom. He mindlessly opens the door. He’s too busy being engrossed by your presence. It’s intoxicating. Bucky feels his way through his room. He lays you gently on the side of his bed.

“Fuck.” He whispers out, as he grabs the side of your face, lifting your gaze up to reach his. You looked so beautiful under his touch, and he was dedicated to making you never doubt how much you mean to him again.

Bucky sits beside you, shoving his mouth on yours again. His tongue follows down the path of your throat. His hands slowly graze the sides of your thighs. You felt soft in his hands. It made him feel insane. Bucky let out small praises, whispers of ‘So gorgeous’ and, ‘I needed this’ exit his mouth. You took your hand, the hand that wasn’t clasped around Bucky’s face, and palmed at Bucky’s unmistakable boner. Bucky lets out a deep groan. “Jesus.”

Bucky reacts by swiftly removing your top, still kissing you. He was desperate to see you. You unbuckled Bucky’s belt, and unbuttoned his pants. “Tell me what you need.” Bucky says.

You laughed into the kiss. You felt the growing knot in your stomach expand. You needed Bucky as much as he wanted you. “I want to sit on your face, Bucky.”

“Course you do.” Bucky responds, as he pulls off your clothes. Bucky lifts you over him, so you’re straddling his chest. It was embarrassing, having Bucky feel the growing wet spot from your core on his skin. You couldn’t really think much of it though, you had bigger things to think about right now.

Bucky adjusts himself just perfectly under you, his eyes looking at you, filled with lust and care. You fall forward on the headboard of the bed; the first touch from Bucky’s tongue on your pussy making you reel forward.

Bucky was an animal. His tongue drove into you like a machine. He would spend time easing you into it, but he was selfish. He needed you, and guessing from the sounds you’re making, you needed him too.

“Fuck— Oh my god!” You moan out.

You rest your arms over top of the headboard for support. You leaned your head on top of your arms, only making the bottom of your face visible to Bucky. He reaches his hand towards your chest and pushes you back, notioning that he wants the full view.

“Fuck. Fuck, Bucky— I…” You whisper out as you lean your arms back to support yourself on Bucky’s torso. Your boobs jiggle over Bucky’s face in a mesmerizing way. Bucky wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking on it. You’re so wet already, it’s proven by the ridiculous sounds Bucky’s mouth is making while eating you up.

As you inch closer and closer to your high, you’re cut off by Bucky’s frantic slapping on your thigh. You get up from off of him immediately, to which he gasps in a big breath of air. He was nearly drowning in your pussy. Which, honestly, Bucky wouldn’t mind it if that’s how he was going to go. His mouth is filled with remnants of your arousal, to which he swallows easily. There’s even some in his nostrils. Jesus. How fucking grotesque.

“You’re gonna kill me, darling.” Bucky laughs out. “You’re gonna kill me first.” You breathe out.

Bucky grins as he grabs you and flips you on your stomach with ease. He takes off his boxers as quickly as he can, eager to feel you. The cold feel of the blankets and pillows is a nice contrast to how hot your body feels against Bucky. Bucky grabs your ass, lifting it up as his erection springs out his boxers.

The first thrust into you feels like heaven. Bucky fills you up, and your pussy stretches around him. Bucky swears this is heaven. Bucky pounds into you with ease, the bed shakes under the two of you.

“So good. Oh my god—” You manage to say out loud. Bucky leans over you, reaching his fingers to your sensitive clit. The sensation is nearly too much. Your eyes roll back into your head, and you’re only a little glad that Bucky can’t see just how much of a mess he’s making you.

“Jesus, baby. You’re being so good for me.” Bucky mumbles lazily. He’s becoming nearly undone. He feels as though he could cum any moment now. “Taking it so well, yeah?” Bucky asks.

The only answer you could give him was a nearly inaudible, “Mm-hm.”

Bucky laughs. He slowly envelops his hands with fistfuls of your hair. He pulls your head back to look at him. You have one hand on the bed, one hand on the headboard. Your eyes peered all the way back at Bucky. “Tell me, tell me how good you’re being for me.”

“I’m.. fuck, I’m being good for you, Bucky.” You mumble out, mindlessly. Bucky loved seeing you come undone by him. Made him feel good. You feel tears prick up in your eyes from the overwhelming sensation. You can’t keep holding on for much longer, your high was near. Pathetic moans exit your mouth repeatedly. You were gasping for air, and you bit on your bottom lip to help you deal with the pleasure consuming you. Bucky thrusts get sloppier and more inconsistent, the closer he gets to his own release.

Bucky continued pounding into you. “Do you even remember that fucking loser’s name?” He groans out, mentioning Dex. To be fair, you weren’t far from forgetting your own name. You shake your head no rapidly. “I don’t— I don’t remember his name.” You babble out.

“Good. God, you’re so good under me.”

“Oh my— gonna, gonna cum, Bucky.”

“Cum, please— oh my god.” Bucky begs you, his mind getting too clouded by his own pleasure.

You do what he asks of you. You cum around his cock, and he revels in the sensation. He fucks you through the high, which nearly makes you scream out. Bucky had already planned on leaving this stupid politician shit behind him. But seeing you like this, all fucked out for him, was the icing on the cake. He could have you like this all the time, with no shitty and pointless job to hold him back.

“Cum inside of me.” You beg, desperate. Bucky bites back a guttural moan from that. His thrusts are becoming incredibly sloppy. He does as you ask of him, and cums inside of you. The feeling drives you insane. Bucky falls on top of you, the weight of him crushing you. Bucky rolls off of you, his breath shaky and uneven. Bucky presses hot kisses on your back and neck.

After a moment of recovery, you turn to Bucky, giggling. You felt safe with Bucky. Bucky wrapped his arms around you, kissing your head softly.

“Still think I’m gonna leave you?” Bucky asks, his tone light.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Bucky— Shut the fuck up.”

4K notes · View notes

prkhaven · 2 months ago

Text

MONEY POWER GLORY -l.hs, p.sh-

Given the opportunity to tackle the biggest headline yet—you knew this would be the breakthrough of your career. Not the breakthrough of your love life.

pairing— athlete!heeseung x journalist fem!reader x athlete!sunghoon

genre: smut minors do not interact, athlete au, athlete rivalry, p with plot, hockey player!sunghoon, basketball player!heeseung

wc: 23.4k

warnings: profanity, toxicity, manipulation, possessiveness, kissing, morally ambiguous characters

smut warnings: unprotected sex, p in v, two sex scenes, praising, dirty talk, degradation, fingering, oral (f rec.), dry humping, body worship, dom!heeseung, dom!sunghoon, light choking, creampies, breeding kink, usage of nicknames (baby, babe, princess, good girl)

lily’s note: after so long it’s finally here!! sorry for it taking a while but i hope you can enjoy it!! also special thanks to @vampsol for making the banner <3

“Our star players”

Forced to stare at the large group picture hanging dead center and with no choice you zeroed in on the two distinct males standing side by side. Neither showing even a crack of a smile as they looked straight ahead.

Something inside of you twisted nastily as you couldn’t seem to switch between eyes from looking at one to the other. When you glanced over to the male on the left, you could see he was sleek, clothing neatly arranged to drape over his body that accented his proportions perfectly.

The slender legs that popped out by the strikes of muscles lining up from his calf all the way up to his knee where a peek of his quads showed hiding beneath the rolled up sweatpants.

The long navy blue sleeved shirt pushed back by his arms resting behind his back with a pumped chest through the fabric. You roamed around his face for a second longer than you’d like to admit to count the specs of mole over his face that the camera managed to pick up.

For the most part, his face was relaxed but what struck you were his blaring eyes that spoke straight to you.

“That’s Park Sunghoon” You felt a jab at your side, “Pretty good looking right” This was able to knock you out of your daze before looking over at your boss smiling at the picture with sparkles in her eyes, “Doesn’t really talk much but his career only goes up from here on out”

You didn’t respond, opting for a quick nod before looking back at the picture to observe the male on right this time. This time he looked more uncomfortable than Sunghoon. Arms were stiff at his side, a clear steer away from the male at his side but he held a sharper yet softer look with his big and round eyes that were filled with a wonder in them that stirred something in you.

His hair was messily disheveled, poking out in different directions but still effortless on camera. The captured sweat glistened from the camera light to show how it slid from his chin and neck, all the way down to his flimsy tank top that outlined his body while he wore baggy basketball shorts that reached his knees.

Your fingers dug into your palm when you noticed the streak muscle dividing his biceps and triceps apart from each other.

“And that’s Lee Heeseung” Your boss’ tone shifted into a heavy sigh with a hint of restriction in it

“More outspoken but keeps more so keeps himself but his career…” She sucked a breath as she stared at the male, “It’s promising. So damn promising” She muttered the last words before clearing her throat and patting your back that woke you up from the daydream you were in

“Let’s see what you make up for those two” You see her toothy grin which caused an unsettling feeling to rest in your stomach but you pushed it aside and gave a tight smile

She retracted her hand away after giving one last pat on your shoulder, not in a comforting reassuring way but more of a warning to not mess up.

“You know it’s a good thing what you’re doing. Choosing to step up when you know this is out of your paygrade” You couldn’t even respond before she turned a heel and walked out without a glance

You jumped from whatever was near as your mouth swished side to side to rid the thought in your mind. You looked back to the large cover page of Lee Heeseung and Park Sunghoon with your name embroidered at the faded corner. Your publication. The soon to be the biggest achievement and success story that came to life that hung for all the office to see it in all its pride and glory.

Two proud aspiring rising stars in the making that you now have the luxury and privilege of getting first hand knowledge on them.

$$$

Biting down harshly on the retractable pen as you watched the clock tick closer to 5:30 in the afternoon. It was well over 30 minutes of waiting and the lack of perception on time cranked something in you.

Your teeth continuously clamped down on the retractable push tugging at it softly as it settled in your mind with being alone with your thoughts for far too long—Being a good person is never too far out of reach for you, but being a good friend and coworker was beyond what you know.

Still you weren’t sure why you decided to cover for your friend and take care of her burden on the catalogue when the time came, especially when it’s far from your original department and way more than your original paycheck.

Perhaps it was the extra need of money you blindly needed and accepted without much thought or the grander possibility of reaching the last push needed to put your name on the map like how you’ve desperately wanted for so long.

Endless possibilities the more you think about it but none of them plausible to satiate you.

However, when you caught sight of the highlighted name on the paper before moving to the file picture of his face. The initial worry faded away as excitement creeped through your veins.

“It's a little risky to be doing that, isn't it?” The voice made you freeze and all goosebumps imaginable rise to coat your skin

Slapping a hand over the paper you were just looking at to see the big eyes that gleamed with a hidden mischief in them, the plop of his hair to the side leaving little room in between for his forehead to show beside a prominent mole to make itself known.

While it may have been a prejudice to expect for him to show up in practice uniform but to your pleasant surprise, he wore fitted clothing that accentuated his height and fit a style different from how he presents himself on the court.

When you looked up to him to catch the big eyes boring right into yours with the gleam of his smirk as he took a stride closer to you. His hand gripped the opposite end of the pen hanging through your teeth, “Let go” He softly said making you realize if you weren’t careful you’d end up like everyone else–slipping and falling deep in the gutter

Your hand gripped the little bare space of the pen left and snatched it with a polite and friendly smile. “Mr. Lee, good evening”

Your voice strained making you cringe at yourself but you needed to be nice even if you were waiting on him. “Very glad you could make it” Heeseung on the other hand picked up on the passive aggressive tone as he remained silent to stare at his hand that once held the pen,

“Management wanted me to come, says it’s good for publicity” He laughed before pulling out the seat in front of you, “Wasn’t much I could do or say to get out of it”

He sucked in his teeth when he took the seat, his index finger tapping against his chin as if he were deep in thought, “I don’t think I’ve heard your name in the sport catalogs though, who else have you interviewed?”

He expected an answer, you could see that from him. But you skipped past it, “Well luckily for you, I won’t take too much of your time” You sorted out the papers in front of you before grabbing your notepad and circling his name at the top

You snuck a glance up to him when you thought he wasn’t looking even when he was, you still jotted down ‘Impulsive or Calculated?’ under his name before fully looking up with a smile to be met with a light frown etched on his face.

“You and I both know that's far from the truth. This is going to take months to cover so you won’t take so much of my time today but soon you will be placed into my weekly schedule just to get insider scoop of me” Heeseung folded his arms and huffed loudly when he slumped down in his seat

You didn’t focus on whatever he was saying instead you reread the questions your supervisor created for you to ask in this interview to ensure the ‘success’ of the story.

“So Mr. Lee why don’t you tell me-” Heeseung cuts you off with a hand up, the frown pulling further down his mouth into a distasteful scowl and your brows knitted in confusion as you looked at him

“Just call me Heeseung and please spare us from all the vague question bullshit”

“Why don’t you just ask me your questions, mhm? What do you want to know about me?” The emphasis of the you in his sentence left you dumbfounded, “Don’t like every writer have their own stuff they want to ask but are forced to follow a script”

You couldn’t even manage to get a word in as he continued. He leaned forward on his elbows and tilted his head to the side with a bright smile that showed all his teeth.

“Let’s make this actually worth our wild so go ahead and ask me the questions I know you have listed out for me and not the ones your boss thinks will do numbers”

It must’ve shown on your face that he nailed it right on the money to leave you like this so speechless but impress nevertheless. The corners of his mouth inched upwards when you wordlessly switched the scripture your boss printed out for you and slipped underneath the pile of paper before scourging for the list he somehow knew you had.

“Knew you had one” He muttered under his breath while he watched you adjust yourself in your seat and mimicked his exact position

Both of you leaned in so close to each other that your breaths fanned over another, a deep stare into each other’s eyes curling his insides in itself.

“You once stated in an interview 4 years ago that you’re to be the greatest living player society has ever seen in a decade. Especially emphasizing with runner up star hockey player Park Sunghoon” The once secured smirk of his faltered, his prominent adam's apple bobbing up and down to the question

With the mention of Sunghoon, Heeseung leaned back on the chair, slightly adjusting himself in it to only awkwardly clear his throat. You watched his every move, noting his body language at the mention of Sunghoon’s name.

“What makes you so sure that you are?”

He closed his eyes and moved his head as if to rack his brain for some type of held back response before he looked at you with a grin, “Stats. Articles. Awards. Common sense?” He shrugged his shoulders like it was the most known thing, “Don’t you think so?”

“Those all come from outside opinions. None of it comes from you and I want to know what you think” He scoffed a smile in response, you were called all kinds of names before blunt, rude, mean, anything you could think of

And yet, it’s your driving force to get what you want.

For Heeseung, a crazed look glimmered over his eye as he folded his arms across his chest before stretching them to the chair and gripping the sides.“I don’t need to think that I am. I know that I am” He let out a toothy grin, “Does that work for you?”

You stared at him for a moment before breaking the eye contact to write down another bullet point under his name, ‘Cocky but maybe for the right reason’

You crossed your legs over each other with a raise of your eyebrow as you pointed your pen pointing towards him, “But if you so claim to be the best, how come you haven’t skyrocketed in popularity unlike competitor Park Sunghoon?” You sucked at your teeth with a tilt of your head to look back at the male ahead

“He seems to be doing fantastic if we’re talking data-wise, he’s been carrying his team to championship success, lined up brand deals left and right to being one of the highest paid athletes this year alone and, his popularity through the roof both inside and outside the country”

“You claim to be the best due to statistical evidence and while yes in your department, you are high up there” You leaned back into your chair further, “But outside of the basketball court, what do you offer?”

The toothy grin he gave you faltered before etching into a more sinister smirk, impressed on the confidence you were emitting. “Is this your way of saying that I bring nothing to the table of what society suspects of me just because I’m an athlete?”

You shrugged your shoulders with a pull of your mouth back to hide your smile, “Not confirming nor denying”

He threw his back in a laugh, “I guess you can say that I don’t allow myself to be molded by society into being another pretty face for them to idolize” Heeseung sighed before moving his head to side making his hair frame out of his eyes, “I have a job to do unlike that hockey player you keep mentioning”

Your gaze narrowed at the hint of venom in his voice to be an athletic rivalry before the corner of your lips tugged up into a sly smile. With your pen gliding over to the bottom of the paper to discreetly scribble a note that you were now sure of, prosperity.

$$$

The bright screen of your laptop burned your eyes for how long you’ve been staring at the empty document. For the time spent in the same spot, just to have nothing was making you irritated and your head pound.

You can’t write a single thing down for either of them. What happened to your touch or maybe it was their personas weren’t as captivating as people made it out to be, especially in the eyes of actual journalism.

There were no hooking starters that would catch anyone’s attention without being repetitive with all their other interviews. ‘Star Hockey Heartthrob Park Sunghoon Sweeps Nations Hearts’ or ‘Lee Heeseung: Not Only Scores Baskets but Also Championships’. All bullshit headlines for the same repeating answers and questions.

All of them are unoriginal and you wouldn’t succumb to that. You groaned loudly as you dragged a hand over your face but the moment you rested your hand back on the keyboard, your phone rang.

You were going to ignore it at first but after the 3rd call you huffed loudly and saw the unknown number calling before finally answering it with an annoyed sigh, “Hello?”

“For a minute I thought you weren’t going to answer me” You pulled your phone from your ear at the smugness bled through the phone and your tensed shoulders softened before letting out a laugh

“Now how did you get my number Heeseung”

“Just a few clicks over here, a little bit over there until I found you. You weren’t that hard to find” Heeseung chuckled and through the on-going line you heard shuffling before he let out a low groan

“Where are you right now?”

“You sure sound eager to know why? Going to keep me company?” His teasing tone made your roll your eyes which he swore he could feel on his end

“Why did you call me?”

A loud hiss from the other side of the call at the standoffish tone you used made your lips curl up to the side, “Ouch aren’t you supposed to be nice and sweet? What happened to the warm greetings”

“I am supposed to be your client”

You let out a scoff loud enough for him to hear, “Well you are calling sometime in the night while I’m trying to work so you’re being a disruption”

“Well I just wanted to call to see how you were doing” He gave a false sweetness to his words which you didn’t believe

“You mean you want to know how the story is coming along, don’t you?”

“Well I mean… I didn’t say that, you put those words in my mouth”

“I just won’t deny or admit anything” Heeseung copied what you said to him during your first meet and you were impressed he even remembered

“Well as we are speaking, there has been a straight line on a blank screen blinking for the past 4 hours so how does that sound for ya?”

“Sounds like you’re making excellent progress in my opinion” You snickered at his comment which made him heartily laugh

You leaned back on your chair with a heavy exhale that his phone managed to pick up, “Not in the absolute slightest”

There was a moment of silence until his voice peaked out in a much softer tone, “Sounds like you need to take your mind off it. Staring at the screen won’t make the story start typing itself”

“Then what do you suggest Heeseung mhm? I don’t think there’s much to do at this time”

“That’s where you’re wrong. You’re talking to me, I know my way around”

“Are you asking to take me out?” You raised an eyebrow and placed your hand under your arm as you turned around in your chair

“If you want it to be then yes. If you don’t want it to be then no”

The seriousness in his tone made you giggle. You tugged up on your bottom lip as your smile slipped on through, “Sure”

And you thought this would mean punctuality, that for someone who cares a lot about time on the court would also have the same urgency outside of it. But having to keep checking the time counting down the seconds until the next minute came, you let out a frustrated huff.

All talk about being on time when he’s late himself.

Noticing the lack of appearance by Heeseung, you rolled your eyes, finding your actions foolish for even coming out this late to meet with him. You turned a heel to head back home when your name was loudly shouted from the side.

Looking over your shoulder, there was Heeseung jogging up to you as he motioned for you to wait.

He watched how you scoffed at him and turned your back at him. He cursed under his breath before quickening his pace to stop in front of you, making you stop in your tracks, “Woah. Woah, where are you going?”

You stared right into his eyes to see the softness and actual apologetic expression he had. Your frown faltered for a second but you stopped from giving in. “You said be here by 12. In case you haven’t noticed it’s about to be 1” You pushed his hands that hovered over your arm in a huff

“I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry” He rushed out in one breath, “My manager called me about having a match tomorrow and I had to work out the details before I could leave” His eyes pleaded at you as his mouth unconsciously form a pout

You stared at him as his lips unconsciously tugged downwards easing into a smile when you let out a breathy sigh with an obvious roll of your eyes to show your annoyance. “Next time be on time” His frown turned upside down

“Next time?” You picked up on the teasing tone and you had to hold back another roll of your eyes again as you poked at his side making him yelp in surprise

He stared at you in shock before bursting out into a laughter that prompted your own smile, “Never had a journalist poke me at my side”

“There’s always a first for everything” You softly hummed as he glanced over to you with a much softer smile

“Yeah… There’s always the start of something new” His voice trailed into a silent hushed, the lull of his head felt light but his body felt heavy

A contrast he didn’t know before but swore he could get use to.

$$$

Heeseung enjoyed it far more than he would like to admire because it was dizzying having his mouth in contact with your skin. He was only supposed to walk you to your front door after bringing you to an underground 24/7 ramen place where there were little to no interactions.

Usually he doesn’t show anyone else but it was the only thing that came to mind and he didn’t expect to have a nice conversation with you that didn’t involve anything about his career. Everything was just about him or you, stories that were forgotten but brought up for the night.

And he told himself he was walking you all the way back to make sure you got in safely when he lives on the whole opposite side but he wasn't sure who leaned into who first but the soft plush of your lips against his cheek wiped all thoughts from his mind.

He screwed his eyes shut, his hands finding your waist as he flushed your body closer to his, molding perfectly to each other. Your arms wrapped around his neck, your fingers playing with the tips of his back hairs as he tilted his head and pressed his lips harder against your skin.

Your soft sounds surrounded the two of you and he was drinking it up. Lack of oxygen being the least concern because now that he’s gotten a taste of you, he doesn’t think he can ever give them up.

Heeseung continued to dig into the flush of your sides in protest when you yanked his hair to pull him away from the repeated bites he gave towards your neck. “Stop biting” You warned but he was too far gone to listen, “I’m serious, I can’t walk around with hickeys all over my neck”

“Then I’ll put them where no else could see them but me” He slurred the words noticing the discoloring onto your skin, “You look so pretty with my marks on you”

Your cheeks burned and you pulled at his shirt but he didn’t budge. He leaned back into you and attached his mouth to your jaw, trailing to the bone until he was at your cheek.

Your heart rate was through the roof, fingers roughly tugging at the stretched shirt when he neared your lips. You turned your head away, throwing it back in a sultry gasp. Heeseung pulled away from the corner of your mouth and looked at you with surprised eyes

“Let’s move this inside” He mumbled between the open kisses on your neck before opening your door and guiding you in while you yanked your keys out of the lock right before he closed the door with his foot

“You’re not wasting time, are you?” You giggled when he hooked his arms under yours, you felt him shake his head as you pulled him further into your place

“Why would I? It’s you” Your heart fluttered harshly against your chest, you didn’t know why but you were too caught up in something else that you moved past him

You yelp when your body is met with the table, you peered over your shoulders to see your discarded laptop opened with papers scattered all around it. You were going to move out of the side when his hand extended out and closed your computer shut, “You won’t be needing that for now” He chuckled, his hands moving in to the corner, the papers scattering to your floor before he pushed your body onto the table

Slotting himself in between your legs clasping them around his lower back keeping him in place. “Don’t worry babe, I’m not going anywhere”

“Good” You dragged his collar, he yelled at the roughness but when you licked a stride over his adam apple his body became pliant on top of you

You hissed the more his fingers dug into your sides, a grip so tight that you swore you could feel him poking inside—ironically. “Heeseung”

He hummed when you called out his name, “What happened baby?” He chuckled darkly into your ear leaving goosebumps to rise on your face

You rocked your hips upwards to meet his. You moaned when his dick rubbed against your clothed self, you couldn’t stop, too caught up in the feeling you continued to rock your hips harder and faster.

Heeseung groaned each time you grazed him with your pussy. It was so sweet, so warm, so wet. “Drenching my pants there baby”

Wrapping your arms over his shoulder to bury your head in the crook of his neck to hide the embarrassment. The tight grip at your waist faded away, you pitifully whined making Heeseung laugh at your need.

He gripped the edge of the table rocking his body forwards to meet your weak thrust. Your fingers dug into his back when droplets of sweats landed onto your chest. Each push of his cock into your clothed self left you moaning with a care in the world.

“Need you- Please” You tried to pull his shirt up but he forced your arms off around him and planted them up next your head, you stared at him with wide eyes when stopped his incomplete thrust

“Don’t get frustrated with me, you started this” When you were going to complain, you sucked in a sharp breath at the harsh grind against your body, “Now we’re going to end it”

He rubbed himself all over your clothed core, the juts near your clit making you wail as he continued to reluctantly shove into you. The bulge pushed through the restraints of your pants and underwear to poke between your folds.

Throwing your head back onto the table with a hard thud, your back growing stiff and aching as you attempted to match his tempo to ultimately fail.

You’ve had your share of hookups before to relieve the buildup but nothing compared to this.

“Fuck I can feel you fluttering around me” Heeseung groaned loudly, the hands that held your arms up transferred to one head as he pinned them above your head while his other hand palmed over your clit

“Heeseung!” You squealed in his name withering under his touch, your legs growing weak around his body but jolted his body forward when you tried to pull away

“Don’t fucking stop- Give it to me” He rooted his lower half connected to yours, your fingers scratched the back of his hand, red streaks left in its wake because of you, “Come on baby”

Your grinds grew fervent against his rocking body, the stimulation making you hyper-aware of everything along the spews coming from him when his plunges grew messy.

“Who knew that you’d fucking love this” He laughed, a dark one that made your insides scream more for him, “Rubbing yourself all over me like some desperate virgin”

You shake your head but the moans that slipped past your swollen lips from how much you bit on them would say otherwise. “No? You're a good girl?”

Nodding at his question, he chuckled before rubbing harder down on the bundle of nerves. Moving your body side to side as you felt a growing bubble in your abdomen, you knew what it meant and Heeseung did too.

“Then fucking come like one”

Your screwed eyes shut mouth falling slack as you rut harder against his clothed cock until you arched off the table, your loudest moan ripping out of you. Heeseung muttered ‘fuck’ when you held him closer to you—using him to get yourself off even more.

His slender fingers unbuttoned your pants and fiddled with the zipper to slip into them and when he found the swollen pulsing bundle of nerves, he grinned wildly, his cheeks hurt from how wide it was. He loosened his hand holding your wrist.

Instantly, you clawed at his back when he discarded one artifact to rub over the thin layer covering your clit. You mewled weakly, each jerk over your body causing more friction in between. “Wanted to help you out” The fallacious innocence contradicted his actions but who were you to complain?

The sensitiveness made you grow pliant under him, the movement of his slow rocking hips and working fingers made your nails push past his shirt and to his skin that you were sure would leave indents.

Too aware and dissociated, you felt the tingling feeling in your lower stomach, an ache growing in you of a need to be filled. “Heeseung. Heeseung. Heeseung” You chant his name like it was the only thing you know

And it made his heart hammer out of his chest, the weak call of his name leaving your lips made him grin when he huffed a laugh directly into the shell of your ear. “Say my name baby”

However, the moment stopped and he ripped his hand out of your pants and put as much distance as possible from your moving lower half.

“Heeseung!” You frustratedly yell and lazily lift your head to see his wicked grin

“Can’t have you coming twice just like that, need to feel it around my cock” The laugh made you frown but inside of you felt giddy, excitement coursing throughout your body

“Then do something about it” You snapped but you yelped when he pushed his legs off of him and hooked his fingers under your loosened pants and panties, swiping you of them in one go

Attempting to cover the new bare exposure but before you could fully close your legs, he grabbed your gunner's thigh and bared you to him which you didn’t protest. He underestimated himself big time now that he was faced with your glistening folds, shimmering by the dim lamp.

“Looks like you won’t even need prep…” He sighs heavily, the pad of his thumb rubbing over your skin, your cheeks burned with how focused he was on you, “So pretty”

“Heeseung” You whined using your hands to cover your face and he laughed, his hand stretching out and peeling them away to see you

“Yeah… Absolutely gorgeous” He told when looking straight into your eyes

Your face dropped watching how his eyes flickered between your mouth and eyes. You nervously gulped, your hands resting on his shoulders, fiddling with the shirt before tugging upwards on it.

His shirt hiking up, he smirked when he noticed what you were doing. “You could’ve said so” He murmured when his hand ran up your side and under your shirt, “But I’m pretty sure it works both ways”

When his roughed yet soft hands touched your skin, you hissed. Like fire burning, you yanked his shirt higher and pulled it over his head while he did the same. A silence surrounded the two of you when you pushed yourself up on your elbows and he backed away.

Heeseung admired your figure. Only left in your bra, he felt all thoughts thrown out the window to be nothing. The relationship that was meant to be strictly professional was squished to the ground. He reached out and played with the strap of your bra, the elastic running under his hand as he slid it off.

You watched his movements, not daring to move an inch while he did all the work. He reached behind and unclasped your bra with no hesitation, instantly the undergarment slipped down your arms, exposing your unmarked chest to him.

Without a moment to waste, he attached his mouth to your chest, sucking into the soft nipple before running his tongue over it, hardening instantly. Heeseung fondled with the other, his fingers twisting the nub making your jolt, “Heeseung” You meekly sigh as he nibbled on the flesh

Spit accumulated at the corners of his mouth as he messily made out with your tit, he bit harsher making you squeal but not moving from his mouth. Heeseung gripped at your breast tightly, quickly getting lost in the feel of the plush squishing his face.

You jerk harshly when he bites down on your breast and you look at him with a frown while he looks up at you with gleaming eyes. “Look even nicer with my marks”

“I told you I’d leave it places only I can see”

You roll your eyes but the initial thought faded out when he pulls at your hips to the edge of the table, “Turn around for me”

Not daring to go against him in worry that he’d leave you high and stranded, you complied and stood up on wobbly legs before turning your body around. Yet, the moment you did, he carefully pushed you down to the wood. Your face squished on the side as you gripped the edges.

Unable to see him, your heart pounded into the table but the air got caught in your throat when he gripped one side of your ass and pulled it up, exposing the glistening of your pussy to him.

You mewled loudly when he took a long stride up, collecting the leaking juices onto his taste buds. “You even taste sweet too” You shivered from his rumbling voice, “So fucking sweet”

Your nails dug into the wood beneath you. Anticipation grew by the second, you tried to peer behind to see him but he pressed his palm flat on your upper back, his free gripping your hips as he swallowed up your juices. Your knees caved into each other that you would’ve fallen if it weren’t for the table holding you up.

The obscene noises filled the room, each drag of his tongue caused an enormous sensation in you. Softly wailing his name every now and then whenever he keeps his face buried in your cunt, not letting up until you weakly kick him away.

Loud pants followed by his chuckle made you hide your face into the table disregarding the discomfort but when you heard the buckles of his belt, your heart raced and legs squished together.

“Right here with you” He attempted to reassure and block out the drop of his pants to the ground, you gripped harder on the edge while squeezing your eyes shut

Heeseung grabbed the base of his length and dragged the tip over your folds coating and smeared your arousal everywhere on you and him. You moaned, feeling it tease your hole, the small stretched nearly enough for you to cum alone, embarrassingly.

He groaned, feeling the tightness wrapping around him for a split second before rubbing his length entirely over your core, poking your clit at the same time. “Heeseung, stop messing around”

The grits of your teeth he laughed and pulled away and you held back a protest and hit your lip to keep silent. “No need to be rude” He smacked the roof of his mouth with his tongue, “So impatient and desperate for me to fill up your lonely pussy huh?”

“What is the magic word?” He hovered over your back, his bare chest in close contact with your skin

You turned your head to side and looked at him through the corner of your eye, his bright side grin with a shadow casting over his eyes, “Fuck me please”

He didn’t respond to your plea and he pushed himself off your body, your bottom lip quivered as you tried to say something but a loud moan ripped out of you when his tip pushed past the rim of your pussy. The wood scratched under your nails as you planted yourself from the length pushed into you.

“Good girl… Taking it all for me. So fucking good to me” Heeseung groaned stabilizing himself with hands on your hips as he sinked you back onto his cock

Heeseung had to constantly remind himself to go easy, to go slow. But the way that you hugged him, sucked him in so perfectly, nearly made him lose his mind.

A stretch that you’ve never felt before, being split apart on a cock, let alone Heeseung’s.

“Damn I can stay inside of you forever” He loudly groaned as you fluttered around him but the loudest noise you’ve heard from yet filled the room when he bottomed out

Your body squished harder onto the table, comfortability being thrown out of the window as you were only able to focus on his weak twitches inside him. Your walls tried to get adjusted to the stretched and pull by him

“M-Move” You meekly nodded your head and that was the green light for Heeseung

Moving his hips slowly, not pulling away so much but enough to make you feel like you were almost empty before pushing back in. Each thrust made you shake and legs weak. “Doing so for good for me baby” He praised which made you clench around him

Immediately noticing the bodily reaction, he dug his fingers deeper into your flesh, “Like when I praise you for taking my cock?” He darkly snickered when you responded in a mewl, “Or would you like when I say it was like you were made to take me?” A sudden harsh thrust filled you and jolt your body harder into the board you were bent over

A switch flipped off in your mind, a moan ripping out of you only let to blab incoherently which made Heeseung laugh at your state, “Think it’s the second one” He whispered loud enough for you to hear

Heeseung quickly found his rhythm. A slow but powerful one that poked your inside, molding and shaping them only for him, “Only I can make you feel like this- Only me”

The possieveness of his words flew over your head as you rapidly nod your head but as he pistons his cock past your gummy walls, he abruptly stops. “Say it”

“W-Wha-“ You breathlessly said but when he began to drag his cock out, everything in your mind snapped into place, “Only you can! Only you please”

Your pleading went straight to his head and his chest lightly pumped to only jerk his hips forward. His tip poked your g-spot in one that made you slightly scream. You bit down on your lip to keep yourself quiet but Heeseung wrapped his hand at the back of neck, his hot breath fanning your ear, “Don’t keep quiet. Make some fucking noise”

He dragged himself out to push himself back in without a proper pace. It was clear that you would take it—which you did and were not complaining. Each plunge into your soapy self, the wet and warm confinement something he knew he could no never part from.

You focused on how he slid in with ease, your arousal making it nearly perfect to accommodate him. Each drag making you dizzy with pleasure Your hands balled the table, not caring the scratches you might’ve been leaving behind.

And you didn’t hold back. Releasing every noise that vibrated through your chest and out made sure Heeseung could hear it perfectly. “That’s a good girl” He sprawled his hand into your lower back while tightening his grip at your neck, “My fucking good girl”

“Heeseung! Please” He laughed at the blabs that mixed with your noises, his pace irregular but just perfect to make sure you knew it was him, that he was left in your mind and body

“Please what?” He hummed and you weakly waved your hand behind

“More”

He looked at you with a glint flashing over his eyes. You weren’t able to see it but you could feel the way he was looking at you. He laughed, your wish was only for him to fulfill, “So desperate”

Heeseung held back strained grunts but some slipped through every now and then when you clenched around him just right, “Be a needy girl then”

“Going to let me ruin you for no one else. Breed your pussy that you’ll be leaked from hour- no days, maybe even weeks” Those words spewed made you whined and pitifully nod your head in need, you blabbed incoherent words and yet, he strung them along to perfect sentences

“So no matter how far you go, you’ll always think of me. I’ll be right inside of here” Heeseung moved his palm from your back to your stomach, pushing down making you feel his cock ramming into you

Your moans melted and muffled by the table as he pressed deeper, “Going to fill you up so much baby” He chuckled while letting out strained grunt, his pace erratic and messy, “Take it, take it for me”

Heeseung clawed your back while he slammed his hips harshly before releasing a guttural moan when you convulsed around him, coating his shaft in your release which promoted his own orgasm.

You dragged your fingers at your table in a loud moan when he spilt into your velvet wall, painting them white of him. You faintly gasp trying to regulate your breathing, to hands that hold both of you peeling off your body.

Giving a few last push, his tip pushing his own release into the inside crevices that he now resided in. Your mouth fell open, letting out quiet moans as a drowsiness took over you.

Your eyes felt heavy and were going to close but snapped open when Heeseung slid out completely without warning. The emptiness is not evident due to the accumulated release but when you weakly turned to your side to face him after everything. He gave you a warm smile and extended his hands out to you.

“What are you-“ You shut your mouth when you catch sight of the gold necklace he always wore everywhere, seeing it in every photograph of him now resting in your chest

The cold metal touched your skin and you looked down as best as you could to see the gold necklace dangling off your neck, “Heeseung…”

“You look so pretty like this… You are always so beautiful” He admired the afterglow you were left in, marked all over with his hickeys, sweat and spit lathered all over your body, “It looks better on you than me”

It was the difference in how he was a few moments ago, he planted a soft kiss on your bare shoulder, he traced up to your marked neck, “It’s yours now”

You admired the necklace through the haze of your mind, allowing your neck to be kissed up by him, the glimmer it had even through the pale lighting. “It’s real gold so take care of it for me” You heard Heeseung chuckle and your heart fluttered at the thought

His gold necklace is now yours.

$$$

Playing with the chain around your neck. Tracing over it made you smile. There was an unexplainable glow to you that others talked about but you couldn’t see it yourself but certainly could feel it.

A feeling lighter than what you are used to, the weight on your shoulders lifted with an unexplainable swirl washing over you.

However the moment didn’t last long when you were snapped out of the daze by a chilling voice. Dropping the necklace and adjusting your collar, you look up to see Sunghoon looming over the table.

“Mr. Park” You smiled but came out more strained than relaxed making him frown at the forceful gesture, it was like the first smile you gave him and it irked him

Your first meeting with him when you were assigned to meet him in a specific location away from peering eyes. It was obvious for high class people, an escape from the dazzling public light. And you knew this because one of your co-workers covered the infamous high end nightclub.

While you knew yourself to be a bit early than the mutual time set. It gave you some clarity of your mind and to settle yourself properly. The differences were subtle between the two athletes but they were there, there’s no denying it.

You looked down to the papers in your arms, the slow jazz music filled the venue. Your eyes reread the similar printed scripture with your boss’ name written in the corner for credit, a tugged of your lips pulled downwards when the memory of your interview with Heeseung filled your mind.

Shaking out of that thought, your freehand hovered the material before crumbling it into a wrinkled ball because if it was out of sight, it would be out of mind.

The soft call of your last name made you peer over your shoulder to see that no profile photo or any photo that had his face plastered on it did not amount to the sliver of justice needed of how he looked in real life.

Great beauty, sculptured face littered with moles, prominent eyebrows that popped, a jawline that could cut through anything that stood in his way and sharp eyes that had a sweetening feel under it.

Slightly disheveled hair pushed back by the squiggly headband as beads of sweat covered his forehead. He wore a thin long sleeve that rested perfectly on his broad shoulders which appeared wider in person than what you’ve seen on screen the few times you tuned in.

“Mr. Park” You spread a polite smile which wasn’t reciprocate by him as he only motioned you to follow the unexpected leading host

With every step you took following the host, you became aware of the watchful eyes and Heeseung’s words flashed through your mind ‘A pretty face for them to idolize’ and suddenly your own list of questions began to sparkle.

The fallen smile slowly rose back when the host bid goodbye, leaving Sunghoon to move the chair out for you to sit in, “Thank you” You muttered as he pushed it in for you but still no response from him

Your eyes followed as he walked over to the seat in front of you. As he sat down, you realized his mouth has not moved from the thin line nor has he even properly acknowledged you.

However, when you were going to go through with your regular routine, it was like a switch flipped and he extended a hand out for you with a fake smile, “Pleasure to meet you” You accepted it with a nod of your head

“Thank you for being willing to meet with me” Your notepad flipped over with his name plastered on the header with your pen at hand, “Let’s begin, shall we?”

Sunghoon nodded as he adjusted himself, hands raked over his hair to get rid of the headband, allowing his hair to fall down to its original flowy state, “If you’ll forgive my poor attire. I am just coming back from practice”

Your brows knitted as you looked up at him. It clicked in your mind when he spoke a semi-long sentence that his responses were rehearsed. Strategic. Unnatural and purely planned.

You expected this type of interaction considering how this would not be his first and most certainly won’t be his last interview of his life.

Waving your hand your smile never hesitates in hopes of being a reassurance, “I don’t mind. Does your practice usually run this long?” He nods pulling at the long sleeve in an attempt to make himself more presentable

You softly hummed before writing down ‘hard worker and ambitious but no clear goal’ in the empty column under his name. “Let’s start with your current succession of winning the championship alongside your team yet again this year” You decided to start off slow and easy instead of jumping right into it, while you may be working to get insider scoop, you weren’t a monster

“Tell me about the preparation that went into it”

He corrected his posture and tried to mimic your heartily smile with his own. “Well of course, I couldn’t have done it with my team. We were able to-”

You quickly stop him with a raise of your hand. While you were aware that there was work to be done to even get a dent in the barrier of his persona that masked the real him. These responses of teamwork will not ruin you from perfecting this story.

“I meant about you actually” You leaned back into the chair, your notepad landing on your lap, “I want to know the preparation you went through” You put emphasis in the you in your sentence

“The good, the bad, the ugly and everything in between” You lightly scoffed, his eyes flickering between you and the raising pen, “If I wanted the generic answer, I wouldn’t have asked to meet. I could’ve just looked up online of another interview you did and get the same response you were just going to give me”

Sunghoon stared at you wide eyed, he was stumped by your words. He tried to reel back in the unbalanced atmosphere, his mouth opening and closing for some proper deviation but nothing came to mind.

He took a deep breath and let out a loud chuckle only to find your hard gaze still on him. Even past the facade he’s always put up when he did interviews and was in the public’s eyes, he suddenly felt stripped bare by you and he only met you not even 10 minutes ago.

“I do suppose I give similar answers from time to time” The attempt to lift the heavy mood failed but he hastily looked when you sighed

“You do it all the time actually” You bit your tongue and mumbled a breathless curse when unable to catch yourself from saying your thought, “I’m sorry that was rather straight-forward of me to say”

“It’s your job to be” Sunghoon answered leaving you shocked but it faded away when another thought creeped into your mind

“Then can I divert from these questions for a moment?” Immediately picking up confusion written on his face, you nibble on your lip and look down at your lap, “Well you see, there’s always been talks about your career before hockey” You eased into the topic before looking up at him to instantly he visibly tensed when he heard your sentence

Bingo.

“You were a renowned figure skater- So close to joining the national team but suddenly declared your departure with the words ‘Of wanting to broaden your horizon’ and left without another word” Your elbows perked onto the table as you inched forward, “Just what prompted that decision?”

The straight shoulders and flickered eyes made an almost sinister smile ghost your face at the wonders, the perfect posture and jaw clenching deflated to nothing by your questioning.

His gaze hung low to look up through his eyelashes, hit teeth nibbling on his bottom lip as he wearily smiled, “That’ll be for a later time if it does come”

His response made your anticipation drop to the pit of your stomach seeing the avoidance of the question. “Alright” You sadly hummed, crossing over your legs to glance down at the listed question

You smiled once you circled back on the topped bolded question, “Let’s talk about rivalries then”

The knit of his thick shaped eyebrows in even more confusion made you grin before tapping at your notepad with your pen without a care, “Star basketball player Lee Heeseung”

Right when the name fell from your lips his once tensed shoulders slouched, eyes wavering around as he was diminished to nothing now because of the mentioned name.

“There were rumors that were later confirmed that the two of you used to practice in the same ice skating rink while you both were in your previous respective sports before ultimately switching careers”

“With this information there was always one big question floating around” You stopped for a second taking notice of his reaction of each words you said

The evident clenching of his jaw that caused his cheeks to slightly hallow in, his fist clenching on his lap under the table, looking anywhere else but at you, and you took in everything he did.

Awkwardly clearing his throat, anxiety on the rise as he felt you inching closer to him, your body nearly folding over the table, “Did the two star players ever cross paths?”

However, expecting a long awaited response to your question that no one else dared to ask, you were met with an abrupt snap, “Nope. We never did” You jerked back by the sharp sternness in his answer

Sunghoon looked up after he responded. His approach was aggressive and not at all what his managers remind him time and time again to act like during interviews. He silently cursed under his breath but when he caught sight of you expecting a scowl, he was met with your grin.

Your pen twirled between your fingers before the tip met with your picked up notepad, discreetly writing down a bullet point. The grin plastered on your face turned into a toothy one as you read over the new note under his name that you circled twice for emphasis, liar.

And that's how you remembered the hockey player. You left abruptly right after that and he tried to drag more questions out of you knowing that if he left it at that, his managing team would hate him.

But you didn’t spare him any mind, only saying how you’ll reach out to schedule the next meeting and left him alone in the nightclub where all eyes were watching him.

And now this time, he swore he would not make the same mistake twice. He couldn’t mess up, not when he already received an earful when he told what happened during the first time.

So when looking around the empty nightclub for sight of you, he notices in the deadzone it is in the afternoon until he spots you buried deeply in paperwork and an empty seat beside you.

His management told him to butter you up to make sure you don’t spill anything about the first meeting but the thought of having to do so wasn’t repulsing but rather nerve wracking.

While it felt wrong to do so, he didn’t want to jeopardize his career over it.

Gulping down the lump his hand hovered over the seat as he could feel your strong gaze on him which ultimately led to him switching to the seat in front of you.

Your eyebrows raised when he opted to choose to the different seat but you looked past it and dusted off your clothing like you were waiting decades for him to show, “I’m glad you managed to meet me again despite your busy schedule”

“I know your rigorous training must be tiring-” You were suddenly cut off but Sunghoon chimed in promptly cutting you off

“How come you were smiling so much?” The tone of falsed sternness but filled with hesitation, you looked up from your notepad in surprise

He never looked away from you and your insides twisted in themselves. “What?” You knitted your brows as you awkwardly laughed, closing and opening your mouth before straining out a fake smile that he managed to see right through, “Oh uh… It’s nothing”

You opened your mouth, “You should smile more often” He rushed out to awkwardly clear his throat, “I mean more genuine smiles, not the fake interview ones” You closed your mouth when he stopped talking

For the first time you’ve seen Sunghoon nervously shying away from your gaze. You blinked trying to regain your senses, your hand curled tighter around the pen, knuckles whitening in the process before loosening around it.

“Well I definitely will take that into consideration” Sunghoon smiled softly to himself when he caught that in the corner of his eye. Slowly adjusting himself to fully face you, “So as I was saying about training regime, how are you and your team-“

“I’m so sorry to interrupt once again- I know we just started but…” Your brows knitted in the middle to usher him to finish, “I was actually thinking about what you were saying last time and I think you should ask the non generic questions”

He paused for a moment before continuing, “I just think it will be able to prove a little more of a insight on who I am as a person”

Excitement isn’t a big enough word to describe the feeling. A miracle was laid upon you and handed to you on a silver platter, just like a dream.

“Well I’m glad you’re entrusting me to handle that“ Your smile that he talked about came plastering on your face making his smile grow, “I promise to capture the essence of you as much as I can!”

“I won’t let you down” Sunghoon softly chuckles at the light hearted demeanor you showcased

A switch flipping inside of your head to a new side that was held away from peering eyes and his heart thumped against his chest realizing that he was able to catch a glimpse of it.

You suddenly seemed far more interested, your undivided attention on him while you didn’t even need to look down at the paper of question, “Was there any significant moment that molded you into becoming what you are today? Such an admired athlete”

The question went straight into it and Sunghoon cleared his throat, his eyes jumping around as his focus shifted until landing onto you. He gulped and you watched his Adam’s apple bobbed. Your jaw clenches suppressing a smile as you look at him sighing softly.

“It might’ve been the first time I first stepped on the ice ever in my life. I think that is when I knew I was meant for life on the ice” A shiver ran up your spine as you listened to the rawness of his emotions

He never spoke of his experience like this. All the dedication you did, reading all the interviews he did, never once did he describe it as such.

“Do you miss figure skating?” Your voice was softer than before and Sunghoon couldn’t help an unexplainable feel in him

He hummed softly while nodding, “There’s times where I do miss. It was what I’ve known my entire life”

“Do you regret the transition?” The question made him ponder, you saw the conflict written on his face as he remained silent, his fiddles with his fingers but tried to stop himself

You noticed his movements and quickly wrote a note about it before dropping your pen and paper down to extend a hand towards him. He jumped when you softly pat his hands. He looks up to you smiling softly at him,“You don’t have to say if you don’t want to”

Sunghoon hiccups and quickly pulls back his hands and laces them together, coughing a soft apology to hold back the blush daring to paint his cheeks.

You lean back on the chair as you wait for him to give the green light to continue. And when he does by looking at you, his eyes spoke more words than anything said before.

“Is there anyone you want to thank for making you reach this point besides your own willpower?” Reading the next question with the small note of L.H right next to it, you were reaching into the abyss hoping for a catch

While Sunghoon was grateful you moved on from the topic of ice skating and didn’t push any further. Others journalists or interviewers would’ve pushed to get anything but not you and that warmed his heart.

“Of course it wasn’t only me but my family and everyone else who supported me when I didn’t believe in myself” It was easy to be thankful for that but he pauses, his eyes saddening at a thought.

“There was an old childhood friend of mine that I lost contact with who really helped me. He-” Sunghoon licks his lips and stares off into the distance

While you were only able to guess the possibility of it being Heeseung, deep down you were praying that it was him. Your leg bounced up and down as you waited for him to continue. “He really led me to the path that I am on now, if it weren’t for him, I would’ve been so lost”

“I am forever grateful for him”

“Do you want to dedicate something to him? In case he happens to read the article?” You cautiously ask to not scare him

Sunghoon stayed quiet for a moment before nodding his head, he leaned in forward and you did the same. When he was close enough to you, he caught a glimpse of the necklace you wore.

Noticing the shimmer of the gold chain peeking out from your shirt his eyebrows knitted at the familiarity but brushed it away..

“I just want to say I hope he’s doing well and that… He enjoying what he’s doing” He softly hummed and pleasantly smiled

Through the smile you see the pointed teeth like fangs sticking out and you look at them for a moment, “You know you should take your own advice and smile more often”

“You have a nice smile too Sunghoon” Quickly turning his gaze towards you, feeling the sweetness and sincerity in your words that his cheeks burned and his heart harshly thump against his chest

$$$

Another night passed, another morning spent with Heeseung.

You have started to grow far too accustomed to this cycle that it would be weird to not see him 4 nights out of the week till sunrise, especially in your bed.

Today is no different from any other day. The fluff of his hair tickled your neck and you giggled softly, trying to push him away. The sticky body feeling made you shiver but he only pressed himself closer to you.

“Heeseung” He only hummed when you whined his name

The calloused hands ran up and down your side, you could feel the smirk radiating off of him as he placed a soft kiss on your skin. You could feel his mouth trailing up your neck to your jaw. He traced over the bone before inching closer to the corner of your mouth.

“I like it when you say my name like that. Say it again for me baby” He slurred his words

But the loud ring of your phone distributed the moment instantly and you immediately peeled your body away from him making his body topple onto your bed at the lack of you supporting him.

He buried his head into your mattress in a frustrated sigh but sunk his head onto your pillow as his arms slipped underneath them to close his eyes from sleepiness.

You sat up to straighten your posture seeing the familiar number and answered it. “Hello?” You softly whisper wondering just why your job was calling you on your day off

Heeseung peeked one of his eyes open to watch your back facing him. He could see his mark littered all over your shoulder down your body and he proudly smiled but when your shoulders tensed, his smirk faltered.

It wasn’t until you let out a heavy sigh and the grip on your phone was painfully tight that your knuckles lost their color. The soft shuffling behind you and you let out a sharp exhale when you felt the warming presence behind you.

Heeseung laid his head onto your shoulder, you could feel him looking at you with curiosity but you ignored it to focus on the hung up call.

“Work is calling me in, something about an emergency meeting” You grumbled under your breath not liking the urgency that was used from your boss during the call

Heeseung noticed and ran a hand up and down your arm to help calm you, “Doesn’t sound so bad I mean do you have to go now?” He dragged the have in his sentence

The scowl on your face twitched upwards, feeling his roughed calloused hands roaming your bare skin to your stomach before swatting it away, “Yes I do, didn’t you hear it’s an emergency meeting”

“But I have an emergency myself” The slur pout of his voice made you finally peer to look at him

Big pleading eyes looking up at you, a light pout on his face as his hands run softly across your stomach as if it were to get you to stay. You watched how his head slowly rose to yours, you smiled and closed your eyes.

Heeseung stopped when he noticed and softly smiled as he dragged you closer to him, his breath fanning over yours but when his lips grazed your, you turned the other away making his mouth land on your cheek, “Have to go” You mumble before pushing yourself off your bed

“At least return my shirt if you’re going to leave me” Heeseung huffed and you turned when he called out to you, you fiddled with the hem of the shirt

“If you say so” Heeseung watched as you teasingly raise the shirt to expose your stomach and dampening panties, he smirked when he caught your hungry gaze

“You’re going to be the death of me” He threw his head back in a laugh but you remained looking at him, “Or maybe the downfall of me”

You chuckle at his choice of words as you quickly rip the shirt over your head before crumbling it at hand and launching it at his face, “Well at least you won’t be mine”

You didn’t worry about having to see Heeseung out knowing he would find himself out like how he always does when the moment was done and time called for either of you.

It was just more often than not, it was always him leaving first but now it was you and each step you took was sharp and purposeful when you entered the office.

Everyone turned their heads the moment you walked through the door. A stoic face but a thumping against your chest made you feel prideful. You smiled at coworkers but you saw their faltering gaze from you to the floors and hushed whispers filled the room and suddenly the excitement within you died out.

When you reach your boss’ office, you softly knock to hear ‘come in’ and when you do you weren’t sure what to expect but seeing your friend, the very co-worker whose job you were filling in for, sitting up straight with a bright smile.

She cheerily called your name and stood up to embrace you which you didn’t expect. You stood there with wide eyes and hovering arms before lightly patting her back with an awkward laugh, “What the- I thought you were going to be out for the rest of the year”

“Time was just in my favor” She gleamed happily but you wondered what this meeting with her and you meant now

Why did her return need your involvement? But your question wasn’t answered fast enough to your liking but you knew your boss hated to be rushed more than anything.

“Both of you sit, this isn’t a reunion, I called you both here because there’s more important things to be discussed before you two chit chat like old times” Your boss cleared her throat before rising from her chair

You both took the seat beside each other in front of her and looked at her as she walked in front of her desk with a loud sigh and finger pinched in between her nose bridge. “Now normally you know once it’s someone’s story it’s their stories, end of discussion”

Your heart began slowing down in beats to drop to the pit of your starch when stringing the words together. “But under the circumstances that this was originally her story and her department” Your boss looks over to your co-worker before over to you with a tight smile

“Your replacement is no longer needed so from here on out, you both will return to your original posts and work on your respective projects”

While your friend happily cheered to be officially back and take over her righteous project of the rising two athletes. You deflated, a ringing growing louder in your ear that wouldn’t leave you even longer after you stepped out of the room.

Your jaw clenched and your fingers dug into the flesh of your palm while your friend shook your shoulders in anticipation, “Well tell me all about them? What are they like? Is Sunghoon as handsome as they say?”

“What about Heeseung, is he standoffish? I heard his performance was top tier” You snapped your head at her as the last sentence was as clear as day when you heard it

“What?” Your face contorted and you saw how she hesitantly stepped back noticing the strong gaze

You sighed and dragged a hand down your face, “Sorry… I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s okay” She cuts you off with a rub of your shoulder, “I didn’t mean to steal back the story… I am super grateful you stepped up and took over for me when I couldn’t do it”

“But hey think about it now! It’s no longer your burden to carry” While the words meant to assure you only made the bubbling seething worse as you grit a smile

It should be your burden to carry but you don't want to think of the greatest loss of your career in the matter of a few hours.

$$$

‘Fertilizers are the new way of emotional expansion not only for your garden but oneself’

Simply seeing the poorly written title you snatch it from the copy machine and crumble it into a ball and throw it into the nearest trash in frustration. You tried to block out all the gossiping chatter that everyone suddenly seemed to have now that the star athletes story was no longer yours.

As you stare at the trash cash, you close your eyes to shakily inhale and exhale deeply with the repeating words of calm. calm. calm in your head. You walk back to the copy machine and press the button and antagonizaily wait for the entire catalogue to print out.

You aimlessly stared at the accumulated stack of papers before aligning it perfectly and slamming down to staple them together. Deeming it good enough for the lack of effort you put into it, you walked into your boss’ office not caring for her lack of absence and placed it on her desk.

But when you opened the door to leave, Heeseung’s face greeted you. You stumbled on your feet staring right at him while he loomed into the office without a word, his eyes set on you.

“Mr. Lee now hold on” You could hear your boss from behind but she stops when she see you in there

Your mouth moved but no sound came out as you didn’t dare focus on Heeseung. It had been a few weeks since you last contacted him of Sumghoon for that matter after purposefully ignoring his calls and messages ever since you lost the story.

There was no point of connection so why bother entertaining it anymore than what it was. You saw the warning gaze your boss gave to leave now and she’ll have a word with you later but a faint knock made everyone’s head turn to the door.

You stop your mouth from dropping seeing Sunghoon walking in with a bouquet of flowers and a soft smile but it falters at the sight of you and Heeseung.

“Mr. Park! Oh dear you both are early for your meetings… Please Please come in” Your boss welcomes the new addition and you tried to slip past but Sunghoon blocks your way in the name of an accident

“Sorry” He mutters and you don’t say anything and let him through first with hopes of being able to escape completely oblivious to lingering gaze Heeseung had on the two of you

His resting jaw tightened at the thought popping in his head making him burn a hole into the back of your head that made the hair at the back of your neck rise.

“Let me just handle with her for a second and I’ll be right with you both” You boss kindly smiles but you knew it was one of anger directed towards you

“This actually involves her so she needs to stay” Heeseung jumps in and you slowly turn around in shock

But the nonexistent back bone of your boss disappeared to nothing as she quickly closed the door behind her, enclosing you in the room with them and walking over to the blinds and shutting them close.

You looked through the large transparent windows just before she did and saw everyone’s eyes towards the room, especially your co-worker with horror all over her face until it was out of sight.

It didn’t take long for all of you to step out of your boss’ office. Her smiling widely after being able to deviate from a crisis that would’ve made her magazine a laughing stock. She shook the hand of the athletes while you slightly bowed which they reciprocated.

Sunghoon was the first to leave with the excuse of not wanting to be late for training but before he left he gave you a tight smile and snuck a glance towards Heeseung who barely looked at him the entire time.

During your time working with the two even if it may not have been that long, there was one thing you knew about Sunghoon: he's a liar.

You expected Heeseung to leave right after him but instead he stayed for a moment longer to batanly look at you without shame. “Check your phone for me okay” He mouthed before finally waving goodbye and leaving the office without another word

“What happened?” You weren’t even able to get a chance for yourself before your friend who was supposed working on the article asked

You took a step back when she roughly grabbed your shoulders, her distress and unease obvious. You opened your mouth to say anything but your boss’s shoes clacked on the tile floor gaining everyone’s attention. She pointed at your co-worker with not falter in her words, “You’re out”

“What?” Your friend awkwardly laughed looking over at you for some clarification, “What does she mean by that?” She whispered only for you to hear

“I’m sorry” Was all that you could say but even though you were apologizing from something she didn’t understand, she could feel no remorse anywhere in your words

“What happened?!” Her voice started to raise louder as she looked between you and your boss for some type of clarity before ultimately looking at you knowing your boss’ won’t explain

“They were saying how they wanted me to cover the story instead and I-I just couldn’t go against it because we would’ve lost the story” The justification on your part only angered her even more

“I swear I was going to say something but before I knew it, there was always an agreement that I would be the other to finish it since I started it” Your friend didn’t know what to do or even how to feel, she looked at you in disbelief that you didn’t break character once

“Get back to work everyone!” You hear your boss yell and the crowd disburse instantly leaving it to just be you and your freund

“That goes for you too- You’ll pick up the story she was working on…” Your boss squints at the recently printed catalogue title you put on her desk with a scowl, “Something about impact of fertilizer” You boss huffed and quickly handed the stapled pack of paper to your friend’s chest

She stared at you in disbelief only to be met with the back of your head as you faced your boss with now better posture than you’ve had ever since she came back and took the story that was rightfully hers.

“And you” Your boss faces you with a closed mouth sigh, “Get back to work on the articles for those two”

You don’t realize you were the only one left standing in the same position. You ran a hand over your face and covered your mouth with your hand to conceal your quivering mouth at the realization finally daunting you. You were back on the story.

$$$

The knock at your front door was familiar but not unexpected. You still haven't responded to his messages like he told you to do so, it was only a matter of time until he showed up and you let him in.

Stretching the collar of the shirt you wore in order to breathe better, you sucked in a breath before cracking open your front door to Heeseung looking through the crack.

When his eyes met yours and softened upon contact. “Let me in?”

Choosing to open the door for him as a response, he stepped in with ease and confidence after being here far too many times.

“What are you doing here?” You sigh but he brushes it off, admiring how nothing has changed from last time he was here

He inhales sharply quickly turning on his heel making you jump at the closeness and warmth of his skin near yours. You stumble but he quickly catches you with a hand on your mid back while you look at him with wide eyes.

Heeseung smirked, noticing your expression. Being able to see you so close and in person felt like a reward he always wanted, “Thought I told you to answer your phone” His lulled words made you weak and you looked at him and he brought his lips to hover yours. “What? Cats got your tongue now?”

You jerk your head to the side to deny the kiss which made him breathlessly laugh, “Just like the last time we saw each other” He whispered as a hand ran over your back before knocking his head into the crevice of your neck

Softly inhaling your scent he became lightheaded. He missed it—He missed you.

“Heeseung” You softly call his name and he hummed before attaching his mouth to the unblemished surface of your neck

He ran his hand over your waist to your stomach where it slowly drifted downwards to the pulsing calling his name, “Shhh let me take care of you baby”

Your eyes fluttered closed and you didn’t resist at all. Your legs pulled slightly apart and hummed in satisfaction. Whenever Heeseung said he would take care of you, he meant it.

After time of not being inside of you was a lustful torture in itself but not being able to see you was a pain he never wanted to experience again.

He wasn’t sure how much he’s released inside of you or how much he’s made you cream around his cock. All he knows is that he can never get tired of this—of you.

With a heavy breath, his body crashed on top of you. You weakly gasped but your body shivered as you weakly played with the stickiness of his hair. You push it back to showcase the mall on his forehead that is usually covered by his hair.

He smiled softly and melted into the touch. Rubbing his cheek into the crevice of your neck while he gave plush soft kisses making you giggle.

You attempt to jerk your head away but he grabs your waist and brings you close to him, his other hand grabbing your head to keep you in place. “Where do you think you’re doing?” Heeseung slurred against your skin

He nipped at the skin, running his tongue over the burning sensation making you squirm in his hold. “Heeseung” You weakly called his name and you could feel the smirk radiating off of him, “More” You slurred

Heeseung chuckled at your state, “You still want more?” His calloused hands rubbing up and down your side—sucking softly at your skin to mark it. “Must’ve been so needy without me, so lonely without me here”

“I’m sorry pretty girl”

Your body moved with his words, a fluttering within, your hips bucking forward to meet with any friction. Too lost in the moment, Heeseung yelped when you pushed him by his shoulder and climbed on his lap.

Dipping your head down to his neck, you harshly sucked on anything you could get your mouth on. Kissing his bobbing Adam’ apple and tugging at it to which he dug his fingers into your hips as a warning.

You smiled against his neck as soft held back hums were released by him. Holding onto his shoulders, switching to the other side you dragged your tongue all over the unblemished skin. “When were you damn it- going to tell me about Sunghoon”

Your mind is so hazy that you didn’t pick up on the question choosing to clamp down your teeth onto his collarbone making him wither under you, planning on doing it again.

When you moved to the opposite side by the drag of your tongue from shoulder to shoulder, Heeseung pushed you away and you blinked, staring at him in bewilderment.

Instead of the loopy smile, he was serious and you could see that. “When were you going to tell me that you were interviewing Sunghoon as well?”

Retracting your hands from his shoulder and straightened out your posture to shrug like it was nothing, “I didn’t think it mattered”

You could see he didn’t believe you in the slightest as he chose to let out a weak scoff, “C’mon baby don’t give me that”

“What are you talking about?” Instead of sitting on his lap, you crawl off it to sit on your legs facing him, “It really does not matter”

Heeseung adjusted himself against your headboard and your sheets falling off his chest down to his waist. “Uh yes it does” He told you like it were the most obvious thing ever

“Why does it?”

Your question makes him push back his hair in a groan, ruffling the fluff of it to an even more disheveled state. “I’m just saying it just does, I don’t have to explain myself to you”

You scoff loudly in disbelief, “And I have to explain myself to you?”

“That’s not the point-“

You cut him off with a sharp remark, “Then what is the point? Am I missing something here?”

“All I’m saying a simple heads-up that you’re not only interviewing me but him as well would’ve been nice” The way Heeseung referred to Sunghoon was not of one of a warm greeting but you pushed that bubbling feeling down as you narrowed your eyes with a scowl

“Ever thought that I cannot talk about confidential stuff? That this is my job Heeseung”

“You know the job that you fought for, telling my boss you’d drop out if it wasn’t me covering it” He didn’t believe the snap of your words, there was something more you weren’t telling him and yet you played innocent

He released his hair with a huff, “So what? This is my fault now?” He shook his head to deny and waved his head like it was lunacy

You smacked his waving hand away to land at his side, “No I’m telling you I’m not obligated to tell you anything”

“I’m not the one who needs the other- I don’t need you” Heeseung laughed at your stifling remark, he stared at you in amusement like he couldn’t believe his ear

“Don’t get it twisted Heeseung. This-” You motioned at the distance between the two of you, “Isn’t what you think it is”

“And yet you want me” The slur of his tone made you soften your eyes just a bit, your shoulders slightly dropping because you couldn’t deny how it is, “Plus what is this between us then mhm?”

The question posed revelation because you weren’t sure what it was between you and Heeseung. One moment you’re interviewing him and then the next he’s in your bed taking care of you like no one else has.

Your silence spoke louder and he understood that completely. He shook his head and bundled your sheets at his waist before sighing softly and rubbing a hand over your arm, “Look I’m sorry I didn’t mean to snap at you mhm?”

He sighed when you were looking off into the distance,“Babe look at me” He softly called but you pushed him away when he inched closer

“Don’t call me babe… I actually think it’s best you leave for now” Heeseung stared at his air hung hand as you shuffled away from him in your bed

“What?” Heeseung stared at you in bewilderment, he couldn’t believe what he just heard, you didn’t mean it—you couldn’t have. not when he was finally back at your side, “Don’t tell me you’re mad”

“I’m not mad, I just have to work soon” You pulled your sheets to your body but he hastily grabbed your wrist to stop you

“Now hold on, this isn’t happening- No fucking way”

Attempting to pull your wrist back as you stare at him shocked, “What exactly is happening?” You raised an eyebrow while a loud scoff bounced off the walls

“I just-” His mind was running laps, bubbling emotions erupting something nasty within, his fingers digging harshly into his palms, “I don’t get it. You already have me, why do you need to interview him?”

“Because this story covers two star athletes. Not just one” You put your finger at his bare chest to push him, “Plus last time I checked only one of you is doing better than the other and it definitely isn’t you”

“That’s only because he allows himself to be idolized and manipulated by the public’s eye to be some fucking perfect ice prince” He grabbed your pointing finger and held it tightly when you tried to pull back

“You know I’m not like that, that’s why you stayed.” He lowly said which ultimately led you to push him back to let you go, “You’re just mad that I’m not tripping over myself to make you feel bad about me”

You jerk your head back in shock, “You’re joking right?”

“I’m sorry I’m not going to allow you to paint me in whatever way you want to sell better”

“I’m not someone you can control and mold for your own pleasure especially for the public’s eye” Heeseung’s voice cracks into laughter after each word, “Hate to break it to you but I’m not Sunghoon”

This was the first time you heard the name be dropped from his mouth. Your mouth twitched but you could only laugh—not in happiness but in annoyance. “Trust me I know you aren’t”

“And oh is that so? Well I’m not going to be made less of what I am so that you can feel better about yourself who can’t seem to chart anywhere else but on the court”

“Isn’t that what only matters? Oh wait! Not for you cause you love leeching off things that aren’t meant to be known” Heeseung’s words became like venom that you could taste in the back of your throat

“And yet, you were still giving me a story just so that I can stay by your side” That was the last straw because he was quick to get up from your bed, grabbing everything of his discarded items and putting them in a haste

When he was slipping on his pants, he faced you with a mocking laugh that crinkled his nose, “And still somehow you ended up fucking me”

Your jaw clenched tightly as you stared at him, having one foot out of your room. He stayed for a second just staring at you and his eyes were starting to irritate you. The rational part of your mind screamed to do something but your emotions got the better of you.

“Don't sweat it too much, I regret it” You snapped and that was sign that made Heeseung slam the door shut leaving you alone with your heavy words lingering in the air

$$$

“What are we supposed to do now that we lost Heeseung?” Your boss frantically laughed as she paced around her office, “What exactly happened?!”

“He hasn’t been returning my calls, messages or emails and his management called me that he would be on hiatus until further notice”

“There wasn’t much else I can do” You tried to explain but your boss snapped her head towards you

“There’s not much else you can do” She repeated your words, “Well you can start off by bringing Heeseung back!” She yelled slamming her hand onto the table when she rounded the corner

You jerked at her shout and clenched your jaw tightly, your tongue running the insides of your mouth that you could taste the metallic on your tastebuds.

After constantly trying to get into contact with Heeseung after the fight, he ended up blocking your number when you received word he was on an indefinite hiatus.

You couldn’t bring him back once he became a ghost. That would be doing the impossible and you don’t work miracles.

“I have to go. I have a meeting with Sunghoon” Announcing it, you hoped to be spared from anymore of the lecture and to your luck, your boss didn’t respond and just sat at her desk to stare off in the distance

Stepping out of her office, you huffed, sighed loudly and closed your eyes while your hands shook at your side but the voice of your friend, the one who should be covering the story, smiled softly and rubbed your shoulder.

“I’m sorry to hear what happened with Heeseung” You furrowed your brows wondering how anyone knew of the news, she noticed your confusion and became lost herself, “Uh yeah… Didn’t you see the official statement posted? He’s off the lineup and won’t participate in the championship this season”

You stared at her with wide eyes but she didn’t answer your silent question.

“Just what happened? I thought everything was going well, especially after the scene they caused” She and everyone else has question they ask knowing you might have insider information that can satiates their curiosity

“I don’t know. Last session, he seemed fine. Maybe fame just got too much for him how the hell would I know what goes on in his head” You grit through your teeth, you knew it was a lie, there was no fame attached to his name besides the one the team gave him

But you truly don’t know what he was thinking and quite frankly, you didn’t want to dwell on something that isn’t in your control anymore. You didn’t say for long to continue the conversation giving an excuse that while you may be down one athlete, you still have another.

$$$

Sunghoon read the news, he saw the article, and with the new information obtained not long ago about the former basketball player also being interviewed by you. It was no shock that the disappearance of Heeseung must’ve taken a toll on you.

While he didn’t want to point out the obvious, it was really hard when you kept a stoic face, not a single smile that he adored in sight. On one hand, he tried everything possible that could spark some reaction, answering all questions with honesty but nothing brought back the same bright smile.

“Alright that’s it for this. Thank you for meeting me Mr. Park-“

“I heard what happened with Heeseung” You stopped mid way and looked away before turning to his nervous expression, he laughed to fill the awkward silence as he rubbed his nape, “I’m sorry that he suddenly back out like that”

“He tends to do that when something becomes too overwhelming with him” Sunghoon sighs and you immediately drop your hands and gave your full attention to him, “He isn’t the best when it comes to dealing with emotions so whatever it may have been, don’t blame yourself”

“It’s something I’ve told him countless times to fix because it could bite him in the ass and now look at this. His career on the line for whatever the case may be”

“But what if… Do you think this will cost him everything?” You asked when a void filled your stomach like a bottomless pit

“If he’s smart about it then no but if he isn’t who knows” Sunghoon shrugged when he knew that he would be the only to actually know

You rubbed your creased forehead and he jumped when you dropped your hand to the table in a thud, “But I mean unless it’s worth it then I can understand”

“What do you mean?” You asked and Sunghoon softly smiled making you frown lightly at the happiness in it

“That everything he’s doing is worth it. He loves what he does, I know that. So maybe he knows what he’s doing and the consequences will be worth it” The explanation did nothing as a clarity and it must’ve shown on your face when he chuckled softly

“He’s impulsive and irrational. He always has been no matter the case may be, so please don’t beat yourself for losing him because in the end it was his lost, not yours”

A kick in your stomach as you listened to him made it feel like a bucket of cold water was lathered over you and rudely waking you up to reality. You scoff at yourself, silently cursing under your breath as you look up at him with a more relaxed smile.

“There’s the smile” Sunghoon pointed when he saw it and you shied away and turned your head to hide it

You heard him laugh but you looked back at him when you heard him speaking again, “Let’s go shopping” The abrupt change of topic made you furrow your eyebrows in confusion

You open your mouth to respond until he beat you to it, “Please” You closed your mouth at his soft plea

Somehow managing to pack your belongings and being brought to the mall that you wouldn’t dare to step in for the sake of your bank account. However, he walked in there like it was just another day for him–which it was.

As the two of you aimlessly walked the mall, you see the high end brands one after another and you could never imagine the sheer luxury it must be to buy anything without looking at the tag.

“Can I ask why shopping all of a sudden?”

Sunghoon’s gaze remained forward as he took a nervous gulp and rubbed his forearm while he continued to walk beside you, “I uh…just need to buy something. Plus I thought it would be nice to have a change of scenery”

Keeping your sight on him, you see the awkward side glance he gave you before looking back ahead. Yet, he came to a stop in front of a store you never thought you would step foot into. The door opened wide for you and Sunghoon, the name ‘Tiffany and Co.’ embroidered into the glass.

Looking into the store before turning around to look at the encouraging smile he gave as he motioned you in. You nibbled softly on your lip peering over your shoulder as if to make sure it was okay. “Go on” His encouraging words bloomed in your chest

You inaudibly gasped at the lines of jewelry on display, the gleaming of the rocks nearly blinding by the mere sight. Looking up from the racks on racks of necklaces, bracelets and earrings, you see the employees bowing their heads to Sunghoon.

He kindly bowed back and with every step he took, everyone followed him. “Perks of being an ambassador” He rubbed his nape when noticing the unreadable expression on your face

Unable to rip your eyes from the employees that patiently waited for his word that you were snapped out of thought at the soft call of your name.

Your eyes blinked back to reality and turned to where your name was called and your jaw dropped seeing the diamond necklace blinging in the fluorescent light before it was extending out to you. “I think this will look lovely on you” His gaze shifted onto your neck before back up to your eyes with a tight lip smile

Unconsciously reaching up to the chain around your neck, you balled it in your palm before attempting with the lock you try to rid yourself of it however, it kept slipping through your fingers.

Grumbling under your breath when it wouldn’t come off but you stopped when you felt another pair of hands pulled yours away, “Let me do it for you” Sunghoon softly said as the clasp unclipped and the necklace slipped off your neck to be scooped in his hand

Your mouth slightly parted when he smiled warmly as he pried open your fist with his fingers as he dropped the necklace onto your palm, “Let’s try this one on now mhm?”

The cold from the necklace Heeseung gave you disappeared into your pocket as you turned your back and made it easier for Sunghoon to wrap the diamond necklace around your neck. It didn’t dangle like how Heeseung’s did. It was far too heavy in the middle by the crystal to do so, instead it clung to your skin.

You were hesitant to turn around and look at Sunghoon but he grasped your shoulders and turned you around, “What do you think?” Your question was innocent and pure in his eyes and it made his heart flutter

“I think we’re going to have to box it up” He smiled peeling his gaze away from the jewelry to look at you face that stretched in the smile he adored

“So? You get whatever you want at a discounted price?” You coughed when you caught a glimpse of the price tag which he laughed and shook shook his head like it was pure lunacy

“I get it for free” Your shocked must’ve been seen because he only shrugs his shoulders like nothing, “Perks of being a renowned athlete and ambassador I suppose”

“No this is the outcome of being loved by the nation” You muttered under your breath but quickly shut up when an employee extended a bright teal blue bag in your direction

You picked up the bag and looked inside of the box in which the necklace you’re wearing is supposed to go and a gratitude card for your purchase.

“Now it’s yours” Sunghoon had a look that sparkled and you couldn’t describe it

He cleared his throat and stuffed his hands into his pockets and smiled, “If you want to look more around the store you can. Choose whatever you like, it’s all on me”

An excitement raced through you hearing his words. Something that you hadn’t felt ever before unless during late night thoughts of what ifs or in your wildest dreams and fantasy.

The grip on the teal bag tightened as you glanced around the store to see all the employees waiting for Sunghoon and now your cue for whatever you may need.

You looked to the side to catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Your ‘Tiffany and Co.’ bag in clutch and your necklace that dangled a shining diamond right in the middle.

$$$

“Sunghoon is wonderful isn’t he?” The question snapped your attention from the rather large portrait of the said male to the whom spoke

You see a striking resemblance to the woman who you knew to be his mother, seeing her in countless videos and photos along with Sunghoon. She always had the same proud smile when the cameras were on her and the smile she gave you was no different.

Her heels clack against the sleek tile floors where there was not a speck of dust. She looked up to the picture in pride and folded her arms. “This was during one of his last final matches. I didn’t know at the time since he made the decision by himself but it was a moment too beautiful not to capture.

The said picture was of Sunghoon and a gold medal hanging around his neck, the bouquet of flowers laying in his arm, the dust particles behind him and the light outlining him perfectly. And yet, his eyes were hollow, not a single smile in sight.

“Such a remarkable athlete. Always loved and remembered by the public even when switching careers” She hums softly, “He’s made it far even after everything” The mention of the switch of sports perks your interest, however it wasn’t what you were here for

You were here upon invitation his mother reaching out and setting this meeting without his knowledge—deeming it something between you and her.

“I’ve read all about it, it’s like he was meant to be on the ice” Your response seemed to have pleased his mother as she lightly patted your shoulder like it was the right answer to say

“Every since we took him ice skating on a long cold night during the winter at a lake we used to go to often, we knew then and even now he’s meant for the ice” She told and you mentally took note of how she talked of him and the experience, even only meeting her not even an hour ago, you’re already learning more information that no one else knows

When she pats your shoulder again, you look to see her motioning to follow and hastily doing so, you look around at the house as you walk through it. Saying that it was beautiful would be such an understatement. It screamed of pure wealth and of Sunghoon that by eyes alone, you could tell this was his foundation.

You could feel the hint of him within the walls besides all his pictures and medals plastered everywhere. You tried to look at everything that you could of him. There were countless joyous, shy smiles of his everywhere you looked.

It didn’t matter if he was alone, with people, on the ice, in the grass, in the sun, and in the snow. Sunghoon was always shyly smiling—a smile that never changed until it stopped when he grew up.

“Did he enjoy figure skating?” You voiced out your thought only to suck in a breath and cursed under it for not catching yourself sooner

She laughed and you slowed down your steps as she did as she turned around to look at you, “That’s the thing about you journalist”

“You’re always looking for something to sink your teeth into”

“I-I” You were lost for words, there was nothing that came to mind that could save you from this but you took a step back when she turned her whole body to face you

“You know I thought you would be more careful when it came to your tracks considering you’re the very person you have to be careful of” She said while handing you a photograph

You were scared to look down at it but when she puckered her lips to it, you shakily picked up the photo and saw you and Sunghoon walking into Tiffany and co. with soft smiles exchanged.

There were many times you’ve experienced fear but this was the first time you’ve felt it because of someone else you just met. You looked up at her in horror but she smiled at you.

But even when being cornered, you couldn’t take out the muscle memory when you spot a picture in the corner of your eye behind her. Pushed all the way back and dust accumulated on it, there were two young boys, arms wrapped over their shoulders with bright smiles while they stood on the ice.

One with their hair pushed back with a squiggly headband showing the mole dead center on his forehead wearing hockey gear and the other wearing a decorative bodysuit, the prominent eyebrows and scattered moles on his face to be signed below. Heeseungie and Hoonie.

“Now I hate getting my hands dirty” Sunghoon’s mother said, making you remember what was happening. You snap your attention back to her as she picked the photo from you, “However, I’m seeing something that needs to be taken care of”

You stared where the picture once was until you carefully looked around the empty dimmed room before looking back to her wicked grin.

Her eased demeanor contrasted your stressed one making you swallow down a lump in your throat. There was no one else in the room besides the two of you. “Now why don’t we step into my office? I like talking more in private”

“I think you just might want to hear my proposal, journalist”

$$$

All that training he’s done couldn’t have possibly prepared him for the struggle that he was about to endure in running over to your place in the rain.

He wiped the sweat that blurred his eyesight and pushed himself, he couldn’t stop. The balls of his feet killed him but it faded away when he stood in front of your door. The light hanging from above illuminates just enough to cast the shadow of his hand hovering your door.

He flexed his hand at his side, nervously gulping before straightening out his clothing and adjusted his hair to what he hopes is a tame state.

The knock at your door made you jump and look up from your laptop before slamming it shut and roughly shaking your head from the clouding thoughts.

You grabbed your phone and rushed towards the door trying to ignore the giddy feeling blooming into your chest but it died when you opened your door and your phone nearly slipped through your hand at the sight in front of you.

“What are you doing here?” Your voice laced in surprise and tension as Sunghoon tries to regulate his breaths with heavy pants

He opened and closed his mouth, no thought running through his mind that could make him utter a coherent sentence but when his gaze shifted to your opened phone he read the bolded slanted title.

‘Park Sunghoon, Nation’s love, caught on a shopping date sparks mixed emotions of fans. All wishing for the protection of the athlete’ and attached below to the title were the very photos from the mall that day.

Sunghoon let out a shaky breath as he slowly raised his eyes to you. You stood frozen, your eyes widened and mouth slacked open. He quickly engulfs you in a tight hug, “I don’t know how anyone knew we were there and managed to get that picture of us but I will deal with it”

“I’ll call everyone I know to get that article taken down” The grip over your body tightened as he rested himself on your shoulder before burying himself into the depths of your neck, “I am so sorry”

Your free hand twitches and your face scrunched when letting out a shaky breath you didn’t know you were holding before a ripping sob came from you and your bottom lip quivered.

“Shhh it’s okay, let it out. I’m right here” He whispered softly into your ear, his hand running up and down your back to console you

You didn’t say anything, merely sticking your head deeper to cover your face as you held tightly around his waist. Sunghoon pulled his head from your neck to hover his mouth over your ear, “I got you. I got us don’t worry”

He pulled away, his hands on your shoulder to see your teary eyes, a clench in his heart at the sight, “No one is going to hurt you as long as I am here”

You opened your mouth to say something but he quickly hushed you, he raised his hand and his thumb wiped away the tears at the corner of your eye. A reassuring smile stretched over his face as his eyes never left yours even when you were looking away.

Able to feel his gaze on you, you screwed your eyes shut. The built up waterworks striking down your face which Sunghoon easily caught. The pad of his thumb creased your cheek in a gentle manner, you slowly opened your eyes and turned your gaze to him.

When you caught his eyes, his smile grew more and he looked at you with a shimmer in his eyes—making it look like he held the universe in them.

You gulped the nerves down but he grew closer into you, your eyes searched his face to see if he could hear your heartbeat with how close he was. “Mr. Park-“ You started when he hovered your lips

He sucked in a breath, the eye contact never let up from the moment it started, “Please call me Sungho- Actually call me whatever you want. As long as I am the one you’re calling out to”

You were going to speak when his hovering mouth planted softly onto yours. You gripped his forearm to stop his shaking as he held your face.

Instead of ripping yourself away like he expected, your eyes slowly flutter close, getting lost in the plush feel.

“You shouldn’t be here- What if someone sees you?” You softly whisper when he pulls away and stares into your eyes, “Guess you have to let me in then”

He had a flush across his cheek when he harshly gulped in anticipation of your response. He doesn’t know what took over him but you grasped his arm and pulled him into your place without a word and your eyes never left his.

When the door closed behind him, it didn’t take a moment longer before Sunghoon slammed his mouth against yours. His face scrunched when your nails dug into the muscle of his forearm but he looked past it when he pressed his lips deeper onto yours.

He felt even happier when your hand loosened and pulled his hands away to your sides. Instantly his hand cupped you there and carefully flushed your body with his.

Your arms wrapped around his neck when the empty spaces soon became filled by him. Your heart was pounding and your mind was spiraling with nothing in it besides Sunghoon.

He repeated soft pecks on your lips ever so softly while you raked your hands up the back of his neck into his hair. Messily tussling it from the usual neat look. You grinned softly against him but when you gasped just enough when he nibbled on your bottom lip to slip his tongue in.

Grasping a fistful of hair when he devoured the entrance you gave him. Sunghoon was getting too far into the clouds to focus on anything else besides you. You were feeling light headed from how much he was kissing you, he wasn’t letting you have a chance to breathe.

There was always a gnawing in his mind and chest whenever you were around. Now, it was dull and numb, too overcomed with a greater need now that he’s tasted you.

“Please” Sunghoon wasn’t sure what he was pleading for, what he did know was that he would rather give up everything than lose you

You began walking backwards, guiding him further into your home. With each step you both took, pieces of article began slipping away and trailing where you once were. Until you stripped into nothing but your undergarments.

When you reached your bedroom, the door was pushed open and slammed closed by his foot as you gracefully placed on your bed.

The kiss never broke for a minute after that, his body slotting between your legs, his arm resting at the side of your head while the other wrapped your leg around him. His fingers traced designs and patterns on your skin as he kissed you silly.

The light-headed feeling was getting worse but you only pressed harder against his mouth. Sunghoon mimicked the same desperation, constantly repeating the motion.

You continued to play with the back of his hairs, tugging at them every now and then until you tried to pry him off your lips for a second. Managing to peel him away for the millisecond of air before he broke free and crashed himself back onto you. Sunghoon kissed you like a starved man like he’s been deprived of a necessity in life.

He tightly gripped your waist to keep you rooted flat on your back when you whipped your head away. He needed to be touching, to feel you, to be so close to you that no one was sure where either of you began and ended.

“Sung…Hoon” You broke his name and he had never been called out so prettily, it was like a siren that dragged him into you

His fingers hooked under your chin and turned your head to face him again. When you looked at each other, the vision that clouded your minds faded away. Sunghoon stroked the pad of his thumb on your cheek, his eyes never moving from your face.

While you looked at him for a moment before trailing down to his sculpted chest, the toned bulging muscles made him see nearly ethereal. Your hand reached out to graze the muscles and Sunghoon didn’t say anything, merely allowing you to do what you pleased.

You admired him. It was like he was taken extra care of, given more attention to details to ensure perfection. Your fingers traced around his joints, feeling how his gaze never let up from you.

When he pushed your head back to him, he leaned and met you halfway. The plush of his lips caught you off guard but you easily melted into it. He cupped your jaw before snacking an arm over your back and carefully guiding you back on the bed.

The cold feel of fingertips grazing your bare back made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You gripped his shoulder tightly when he began slipping off your bra, you didn’t know when he managed to unclasp it but you helped him.

The garment slipping off made you break away from the kiss but Sunghoon chased after you, he placed soft pecks against any patch of skin he was near. After each peck, you whispered sweet nothing loud enough for you to hear, “You’re beautiful, so unbelievably stunning”

“You’re perfect” You screwed your eyes shut when you heard them, your hand impossibly gripped tighter unwilling to let him go

Sunghoon’s hand roamed over your back to your side before sliding down to your hips where he played with the fabric of your underwear.He rested his forehead on yours, both of your eyes closed shut as his breath fanned over your face. “May I?” He whispers making your heart shake

You carefully open your eyes to catch him already looking at you. You gulped down harshly, only able to nod your head in response. He smiled softly but shook his already sweaty forehead on yours, “I need words princess”

“Yes you can Sunghoon” You rushed the words in one breath, his smile grew in size and showcased his row of teeth and sharp teeth to looked like a vampire ready to sink his teeth

“Thank you” He hooked his fingers over the fabric and carefully peeled it off you while you wrapped your arms around his neck and kept yourself buried in his neck

Wet kisses rested on the side of your face and jaw to deviate the attention from what was happening. But Sunghoon pulled your arms away from him as he pulled himself back. You stared at him with confusion when he focused on properly taking your undergarment off.

Passing down to your ankle to dangle off before he slid it off completely, Your cheeks burned in embarrassment when you felt a cold breeze hit your glistening self. Sunghoon sucked in a breath watching the pure arousal.

“Is this for me? Leaking all this for me?” He asked but when he focused back on you he saw how you had your head buried in the pillows, “Hey it’s okay… Look at me”

You couldn’t face him but when a finger sleekly slid in between your folds, a moan ripped out of you while you buried your head dropper into the sheets. “Look at me” Sunghoon repeated his words, “Please”

You shivered at the thought of seeing Sunghoon, especially at this moment but you turned over to him to see the wet eyes he had while looking at you. Nearly hanging off the bed and the sight of his head in between your legs.

“There you go” He huffed out a smile before dragging his finger up to softly rub over your clit, you threw your head back when your body jerked at the touch, “No no be a good girl and look at me princess”

But when you didn’t listen he ripped his hand away and you whined in protest before blinking rapidly to look at him, “Look! Look! I’m looking please Hoon” you wailed which erupted an explosion in his chest

“Hoon? I think I can get used to that” He laughed before running a hand up and down the outside of your thigh, “Glad you listened” He hummed before returning to his original spot

He was agonizingly slow when running a single finger over your folds, spreading the wetness all around. “Sungh-“ You started but quickly gasped when he slipped in a finger

He hissed at the clench but slipped in another making you fist your sheet, crumbling underneath your body. His hot breath fanned over your cunt making your slightly jolt but strained a moan when his curled up his fingers and laid his tongue out and up your juices.

Attaching himself to your pussy was like a dream. Something he never wanted to part from and it drove him mad. His head felt lightheaded when all thoughts rationally fled from it to be filled by you. He turned his fingers around, slightly parting them to scissor you open.

His tongue gilded all over, burying his head deeper into you. He hummed loudly as he drank everything. that split out of you. “So sweet, the sweetest thing I have ever tasted. Probably the sweetest in the entire world” His praised went straight into your head as you carefully rut your hips against his face

“Hoon- Hoonie” You mewled when he plunged his fingers faster in and out of you

“Say my name princess” He grunted when he sucked on the bundle of nerves that made your body thrust

Sunghoon held your lower body with his upper one to keep you in place, sleek slender fingers adding a more desperation into you that needed to be quenched. He adjusted his add into a more comfortable position that made his fingers go impossibly deeper.

The lewd sound of your arousal spilling out and him drinking everything that he possibly could since he couldn’t have anything go to waste. Your body arched off your bed when Sunghoon managed to hit a spot in your gummy walls.

You could feel the smirk radiating off of him and against your cunt as he chuckled, “That’s the spot? Right there?” He asked while repeatedly hitting it

When you couldn’t respond with words and only moaned, a pride bloomed over his chest. “Talk to me” He stopped his movements making you wail

Your mind is too far gone to comprehend wording, your focus on rutting yourself with his fingers. Riding for any type of friction while you spewed nothing incoherent, “Yes right there- need you Hoonie. Please”

“I need to stretch you out. I don’t want to hurt you. You’re far too precious to be broken” He softly spoke while he dragged his fingers out only to plunge them back without a warning, “Let me take care of you”

You rapidly nod in response which made him gleam. Attaching his lips back to your folds, he nastily slurped the arousal that accumulated in the few seconds he pulled away. Embarrassed but too overtaken with a fog you rut your hips harder.

Sunghoon curled the two digit up feeling the gummy wall contracting around him. He smiled as he looked up through his eyelashes to watch the pleasure written over your face. It was a sight that burned in his mind, how your mouth fell slack as noises spilled from it because of him.

He rubbed his face deeper into your core, his nose hitting your clit while his fingers never let up and his tongue attempted to push into your hole. You squealed and pulled on his hair, “Hoon-Hoonie!” Your voice raised higher which each pulled and push into your body

“Let go” He murmured muffled by your pussy until your back arched off the bed, the loudest moan of the night ripping from your throat as you tug of the locks tangled in your fingers, “Such a good girl for me”

You loudly gasp when he continues his thrust of fingers but at a much slower pace. He drank as much as he possibly could, the lack of oxygen the least of his concern.

You tapped on his disheveled hair but he didn’t part from you. Sunghoon carefully rubbed the tingling nerves when he placed kisses all over your cunt. “Helping you out” He blabbed against the soaked walls but you could tell he lied through his teeth

He doesn’t know what took over him. His mind was too far gone to realize it comprehend his body begging for a proper respiration but he needed to continue.

It wasn’t until you physically ripped yourself away from him when he took a deep breath and dazed as he looked at you. His eyes were wet, ringing with tears and the lower half of his face covered in your release.

His sculpted chest rose and dropped with each huff, your body was lightly shaking but before either words could be uttered, Sunghoon crashed his mouth to yours. You yelped in the kiss but screwed your eyes shut and cupped his jaw while his hands roamed over your body.

Sunghoon grasped any piece of skin he could get his hands on and flushed his body back on top of yours. You cringed at the taste of you on his lips but he chuckled deeply, “Don’t you taste so good? I love it” He slurred between pecks

Your hands ran up to the back of his head and kept him in place. Your parted legs welcomed him in between with his hand running up and down your sides. The inner of his palms scratched due to the calluses but they were much softer than how you remember them to be.

The kiss was sloppy and messy, too far uncoordinated but too precious that made every action feel filled with a purpose. “I need you” You gasped and Sunghoon pulled away to stare in your eyes

You looked up to him to see the pleading pooling in his eyes, his bottom lip quivering as his breath shook. “Are you sure?” He carefully asked and you nodded your head, “But I need you to say it“

“I. Need. You. Sunghoon” You cut yourself after every word to emphasis the broken sentence

“You’ve always had me” He responded placing a kiss on your lips which contrasted any other one, much softer and gentle approach

The tangle of his hair loosened in your hold before slipping off to rub his neck. The tips of your fingers tingling when feeling the burning of his body, “You’re burning up” You pointed out as much as you could but he roughly shook his head as he moved down from side of your mouth to your cheek then jaw to finally your neck

“You give me fever” An exhilarating shock filled your body with his words, so truthful, so raw, “You drive me crazy”

You brush the fallen hair and tucked it away as much as you could to bring focus to his face, moles that you weren’t aware existed unless you were so close to see it showcased themselves to you.

Focusing on the weak points, you flipped over to have Sunghoon sprawled on your bed. He looked up at you in shock when you straddled his lap, smothering your arousal over his boxers covering his clear hard on, he moaned loudly.

“Don’t be a tease” He sucked his teeth but you smirked and pressed down harder while tangling your hand behind his head

“I won’t- I don’t have time for that” Sunghoon looked at you through squinted eyes when your fingertips traced the outline of his boxers, “Plus why would I even think about pulling nonsense with you”

“Because you’re a journalist- You live off of story” You laughed at the reprimanded comment, you bring his head leveled with yours with a raise of an eyebrow

“You sure have a snappy attitude under the tidy hockey player” This time he was the one to laugh out loud, you tilted your head in confusion but you yelped when you were flipped to your back again

Sunghoon hovering over you, his arms on each side of your head and his muscles stretching out the line of the clear dedication he put into his body.

“No. Welcome to actual me” Before you could even retaliate his words or even question them, he fiddles with his boxers and rips them off his body

You gulped harshly when you caught a glimpse of his length, clearly underestimating his size and he laughed, “You thought I was small. You’re breaking my heart”

When you looked up to him you were met with a crazed look in his eyes, a dark cloud forming in his mind that had one thought in mind. To ravish you.

“Sunghoon-“

“That’s not my name” He sternly told, gripping your chin to keep your eyes on him

You gulped down the lump forming in your throat, your voice shaky but it put a smile on his face, “Hoon?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?” He chuckled before sucking his teeth and shaking his head, “Not that one though”

“Hoonie” You told and he smiled widely showing off his teeth, the sharp ones peeking out, he leaned down to your bare skin and you shivered

His teeth crazed over the unblemished skin but he screwed his eyes tight and huffed. He grabbed his length and dragged it over your soapy folds, he let out a shudder when the wetness met with him. He immediately crumbled as you clawed at his shoulders when aligned his tip at your entrance.

You could feel the stretch slightly protruding until it broke through. “Hoonie” You mewled his name as he slowly pushed himself in

“Fuck princess you’re so good- Absolutely the best” Sunghoon felt dizzy, the wet warm confidment engulfing him worked wonders in his foggy mind

Each inch that he gave you, you took without fail. “Shhh it’s okay. I’m right here. I got you” He rubbed your hips as the single handed most harmonic sounds ripped from you as you adjust to the stretch of your wall to accommodate him

You pushed your head right into his neck, your arms hooking under his to keep him close. “You’re doing amazing” His reassurance bloomed into your chest and with a weaken shake of your head, his heart fluttered

“Are you sure?” He tiptoed as if he wasn’t already inside of you

You shot him a glare that you knew he could feel and weakly laughed, “Whatever you want”

He pulled back his hips before pushing back in and he was gone, easily getting lost in the sense of you engulfing him whole. His pace slow and calculated to your pleasure, he didn’t pull away just enough to leave you empty but enough to make sure you knew he was gone.

With each thrust, you could feel the pure rawness of Sunghoon being opened to you. You knew he was trying to remain his composure, the strained noise from his closed mouth directly to your ear. While you didn’t hold back, you let any sound slip past your mouth into his ear followed with the drag of your nails down his shoulder blades and back.

His tip poked around the gummy walls, filling the hollowness that you swore you could feel him poking your g-spot that had made you cling to him harder. His hand at your sides squeezed tightly, “You’re a good girl. So fucking good to me”

You blabbed incoherency but he swore that under your breath you muttered just for you. He’s unsure if it was mind playing tricks on him but he ran with that buried in his mind.

Sunghoon focused on keeping his thrust slow and ryhtmic. Even though you tried to meet with his thrust halfway, he only pushed your body further down on the mattress to keep you in place.

Your mind was running blank, the care of professionals far long that you couldn’t even see where you left it. “Hoon- Sunghoon!” You cradled him to show the desperation you had

But he could see it, already feeling it wrapping around him. His mind was being rewired—so focused on burning this feeling in his mind with a lingering thought this couldn’t be it. He wouldn’t allow it.

“Let me hear you princess. Let me know who is making you feel like this” The tips of his fingers pushed into the flesh of your skin as he kept pushing himself in and out of your, “Don’t keep quiet please- Let me know” The tome of his voice growing higher with each word

Tangling one of your hands into the fluff of his hair, resting your face on his head, closing your eyes and biting your lip to stop more sounds from falling out.

The hand on your side loosened and managed to slip through the tanglement of your sweaty bodies to your clit, you gasped loudly and tugged harshly on his hair. “It was calling for me. I couldn’t ignore you”

His offering words flipped something in you, it was unsure what did but your concealed mouth and through the obscene sounds, you managed to mutter the words Sunghoon wanted to hear. “So good Hoonie”

“So good for me”

Instead of keeping his pace, he groaned when you whispered it into his ear, with one thrust, Sunghoon flipped. No longer the careful and slow ones, it was now sloppy and face. The air got knocked out of you trying to get used to the new pace.

Your body jolts into your bedding more with the thrust, your arms shaking off his body to lay at your sides and grip the sheets into your fist. Your head turned to the side when you felt him pull from your body but his thrust let up.

“Just a little more- Take it for me princess” He rubbed harder on the bundle of nerves as he rammed into your soaked self

“Can I come inside? Please. Please” He weakly pleaded as he stared at your moving body, while you may not have been facing him, you must be thinking about it when you’re moaning like that

Sunghoon pistons himself out of you, his skin meeting your skin to mix with the sounds already bouncing off your walls. He thought this was heaven but when you clamped around him, the hole contracted around him. He knew it was better than heaven.

And he would be willing to give up anything to keep you.

“Yes. Yes. Please” You slurred through the noises, your tits bouncing with each thrust that entranced him, he couldn’t look away from you even if he wanted to

You clawed at your bed to stabilize just how harsh he was going. Your mind melted to mush, “Going to fill you up just of me”

“I need you to know that you will always have me. Carrying me inside of you” He huffs while the thrust grew sloppy and messy, “I am always with you princess”

Instead of being such possessive wording, it felt warmer and genuine. The glittered erupted in your stomach but the thought washed always when he harshly rubbed down on the bundle of nerves and spurted his hips one last time.

Your back arched off the bed and a moan ripped out of you but Sunghoon only slowed down his movements as you came over him, “Hoonie- Too much” You tried to wither but he pressed down on both side of your hips to continue his relentless plunges

“Just a little more, take it for me princess. Doing so good for me. be a good girl” He blabbed in one breath as he tried to ignore the tightness around his length

You buried your head deeper to the side and screwed your eyes shut as mewls and wails slipped past your quivering lip. Your crumbled sheets flipped and wrinkled under your moving bodies. Sunghoon kept your hips in place for his thrust until they came to a hilt and a moan mixed with a whine ripped from his chest past his throat when you felt a twitch inside of you.

“Hoonie” You weakly called out to him, he hummed softly but he rocked his hips in slow manners making you whine but him softly smile as the velvet walls were painted of him

“Take it for me” You were unable to respond due to heavily panting, trying to regulate your breath but it got caught in your throat when a finger hooked under your jaw and turned your head

You weakly opened your eyes to see Sunghoon’s glistening from the moonlight shining through the window, the sparkling eyes that looked like they held the universe in them stared at you. “Sunghoon” You called out his name

The way it rolled off your tongue made his heart hammer and a blush warm his cheeks. He squished his lips together and his cheeks rose as he wiped away any sweat from your face. His eyes softened at your state and creased your cheek, he leaned down and captured your mouth with his.

He hummed softly as he held you close. Your arms wrapped around his neck when his arms hooked under your body to pull you close, he didn’t pull out with the thought of keeping himself as close to you as possible and you didn’t say anything.

$$$

The sunlight blared into the room making your face scrunch. You jerked slightly and groggily opened your eyes. The window was slightly ajared as a gust of wind washed in and moved your curtains.

A soreness coursed through your body and you sighed heavily as you tried to straighten out of your state. You peered over to your shoulder and saw the dipped empty space where Sunghoon once laid.

You tried to rack your brain of what happened after it all but it was blurred to the point you remember the last peck he gave to your forehead as he murmured something that you couldn’t pick up before you fell asleep.

Pushing yourself up on your arms you winced softly, the sheets falling off your body only to see a shirt bigger than yours draped over you. Your brows crease in the middle but you jump when your bedroom door opens and in walked Sunghoon holding a tray of water, some cut up fruits and steaming wet towels

He stopped dead in his tracks when he noticed you awake, “What are you doing?”

“I-I” He stuttered over his words, not really sure what to say but when you let out a giggle, the initial worry washed away, “For when you woke up” He softly said while walking over to you with the tray at hand

You speech yourself up on your headboard and see him shirtless with only his pants hanging off his hips, “Couldn’t put a shirt on?” You ask when he sits on the edge of the bed and placed the tray on his lap

He points to the respective things on the tray until you nod your head at the water and quickly hands it to you. “You’re wearing it”

You look down to the material and realize it was in fact true. “Do you want it back?” You pick at the shirt but he stops you and shakes his head

“No actually keep it. I like how it looks on you way better than it will ever look on me” He smiled softly before rubbing his nape, a shy smile casting over his face,“Was I-I uh too rough last night? I’m sorry… I’ll tone it down next time”

You extend your free hand to crease his head, the fluff of his bed hair sticking all over the place. He met your gaze to the glowing hue of the sunlight casting a shadow over you while you looked at him. He shook your head down to his cheek and nestled into your palm.

But when you open your mouth to respond but unintentionally he cuts you off. Sunghoon softly muttered through a soft pout of his lips but clear enough to hear from a mile away, “You’re glowing princess”

Your mouth tugged upwards softly, such a picture perfectly painted in the eyes of everyone else, now laid destroyed and ruined in front of you.

$$$

When you stepped into the office, you didn’t expect it to be buzzing so early in the morning. Everyone stood in front of any screen they could get their hands on. You furrowed your brows trying to recall if there was something supposed to be happening.

You quickly put down the new prada bag Sunghoon bought you after seeing you eye it for a second longer than the rest and walked over to where everyone was.

When you made it to the crowd everyone froze and stared at you with. You were going to ask what happened but you stopped when Sunghoon’s face came into frame.

He wore a black sleek suit with hair parted neatly, not a smile in sight as he bows to the reporters. The flashing lights going off from the cameras made you feel bad for his eyes constantly going through that. But the worry washed away when he was handed a mic.

An unease erupted in your stomach, the palpitations of your heart made you feel lightheaded and adrenaline high for an unknown reason.

“Thank you everyone for coming on such short notice” Sunghoon cleared his throat, the mic faintly picking it up as he straightened out his posture

“I want to say I am grateful for everything that has led me to this point of my life. I wouldn’t have been able to do it without the help of those close and charitable to me”

“Without them I wouldn’t be here today and sometimes I think if it was for the worse or the better”

“I’ve thought about this thoroughly and so from this day onward… I am declaring my resignation from the team and officially announcing my retirement from the public eye”

“This was Park Sunghoon” He bows at a perfectly 90 degree angle to the clamoring reporters physically there and rushed flashing camera lights captured the moment better than you could’ve

Through the confined space, the people around you gasped loudly as they looked at each other before ultimately looking back at you who stood frozen staring at the screen.

Your boss whom you hadn’t seen harshly grabbed your arm, digging her fingers into your skin while giving a shaky glare. “Fix this” She grits through her teeth

You didn’t respond and pulled your arm away as your body moved on its own. Heavy steps after another as you attempt to rush back to your cubicle and hastily fish out your phone.

It was hard to get a grasp through slippery hands but your mind was reeling and you felt like you were going to crumble and have the world swallow you whole. Even with your attempts to even out your breathing, you couldn’t breathe..

What is he thinking?! There’s no way that he is doing this, not when you were so close.

But the faint call of your name caused you to snap harsher than you meant, you saw your friend who stares with shocked eyes and you huffed loudly and rubbed your creased forehead, “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to snap. Right now just isn’t the best time”

“I know but I just wanted to tell you not to worry so much about this”

The choice of words but your brows knit even deeper with confusion, there was no way she didn’t realize the grand scale of what is happening and what this entails for your career. “What are you talking about?”

“You haven’t heard?” The grip on your phone loosened when she relayed the sudden break of rumor circling around the internet right when Sunghoon declared his retirement just a few moments ago—The silence of months finally shouting and slapping you directly in the face

“Rumor has it Lee Heeseung is back”

——

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orimuraa · 2 months ago

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• I could be the rest of your life or whatever - 西村力 ↳ ┊: handlebars (feat. dua lipa) - jennie

꒰ 𝔖𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴 ꒱┆nishimura riki was known as the school’s bad boy, but somehow, he managed to get his heart stolen by you—the school’s nerdy sunshine ⨾

۶ৎ bad boy!ni-ki x fem nerd!reader┆fluff┆cursing, petnames, one kiss┆wc 952

⤷ 𝐲𝐞𝐣𝐢’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: thank you to the @nodoubtily for requesting this! i love the idea of explaining how they met and how their relationship bloomed ^^ i hope you enjoyed!!

part 1

꒰ঌ ℬℴℴ𝓀𝓈𝒽ℯ𝓁𝒻 ໒꒱

the first time you ever ran into ni-ki was in freshman year. you were all getting used to high school and the new environment. as usual, you were off in the library studying, not having anything better to do in your time.

that’s when he walked in. clad in a black sweatshirt and some grey, baggy jeans, he was so pretty. he gave off a serious “don’t talk to me or i’ll fuck you up” vibe, but you couldn’t help but watch as he navigated his way over to the studying tables where you sat.

you tried to focus on your work—you really tried—but he was too distracting! his pretty moles that scattered his gorgeous face, his duck like lips, and his dark and mysterious eyes that were focused on the paper below him.

you were about to introduce yourself when he stopped you.

“if you’re about to speak, i request that you don’t. i don’t have time for shit like this,” he said curtly, not even sparing a glance.

that made your lips seal with shock. this guy was nothing but a jerk yet for some reason, you wanted to know more about the mysterious pretty guy.

so you did. the next few months were spent with you running around the school to be with him, practically forcing him to be your friend.

at first, he cursed you out for following him, saying he didn’t need a new friend.

“god, piss off! i don’t need a fucking fan club,” he growled, but it didn’t faze you.

you continued to stay right by his side whether he wanted it or not, slowly learning new things about him.

you learned that he had two sisters and that he was actually from japan, making you swoon for him even more.

it wasn’t until one day (the only day in the whole year that you were absent), ni-ki realized that he actually enjoyed your company and relentless nagging.

he had no idea where you were and it worried him that you were in danger. he also missed the way you would appear when his classes finished (despite him never actually showing up to them) and the way you would chat his ear off about certain things.

he kinda just accepted it and let you stay by his side. you two would walk through the halls as you chatted about something that was going on in your life while greeting your fellow classmates. he admired your social ability and it definitely made his heart flutter seeing your adorable smile. you had done something to his heart and for the first time, ni-ki wasn’t scared of the feeling.

so when you showed up the next day, looking exhausted yet still so radiant, ni-ki tried not to make his panic visible.

“where were you?” he mumbled, wanting to stay nonchalant but also not being able to hide his concern.

“sorry…i was sick for the weekend,” you frowned at the tall boy, your voice still not fully recovered.

“don’t apologize. there’s nothing to apologize for. just…i’m glad you’re better,” he said shyly, the tips of his ears getting red.

“thanks,” you smile, choosing not to tease him.

you both walked in your usual way, you chatting his ear off despite your sore throat, but this time, ni-ki actually conversed back. he only chimed in small comments, but they were enough to keep the smile on your face.

you were shocked when you saw that ni-ki was the one waiting for you after class instead of you going to wait for him. he had your favorite drink in hand and the smallest smile on his plump lips, yet you still noticed.

“hi ki,” you smile softly, the nickname slipping out.

“ki? hmm, i like it,” he chuckles, ruffling your hair to which you scowl at. “maybe i’ll have to make a nickname for you..or can i just call you mine?” he smirks slyly, making your heart stop for a second.

“i- you’re crazy!” you shake your head, trying to avoid eye contact. you scurry ahead, trying to get out of the building for some fresh hair, ni-ki smirking with pride as he followed after you.

the breath of fresh air was amazing as you started to feel extremely hot confined in the building with ni-ki. as you stopped in your tracks, your heard ni-ki stop as well.

“better, princess?” he asked, that smug look still on his face. you blushed again, but you didn’t say anything.

“listen, i uhh…i’m not the best with words but i just wanted to say that i think i like you…no- i know i like you. i like everything about you and i didn’t realize i could feel this deeply about someone,” ni-ki says, his voice laced with hesitation and anxiousness.

“then my plan worked!” you laugh. “i’ve been waiting to get close to you all these weeks! i’m glad it worked then,” you smile at him.

“wait- that was your plan the whole time??” he questions, raising an eyebrow at you.

“well…i just wanted to get to know you better,” you say shyly, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

“then can i be your boyfriend?” ni-ki asks, a new found softness in his tone.

“yes, 100 times yes !!” you exclaim, going up on your tippy toes to throw your arms around his neck, hugging him close.

“thank you for giving me a chance baby,” he mumbles in your ear, pressing a soft kiss against your temple.

“well now you’re stuck with me for the rest of your life!” you giggle, nuzzling your face into his neck.

“and i would let you stay by my side forever if it meant you stayed right here, in my arms.”

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ✉︎ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ 𝐉𝐢𝐣𝐢’𝐬 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @vmpivory, @yuvany, @seozii, @pinknjm, @greentulip, @jomisu, @nxzz-skz, @ancnymcnzjy, @hyukabean, @annybah, @ijustwannareadstuff20, @chaeneu, @17ericas, @firstclassjaylee, @riribelle, @right-person-wrong-time, @cheruphic, @woniefication, @melodiessvy, @soona-huh, @kiwicup, @yuuuraaa

998 notes · View notes

fairene · 1 year ago

Text

beneath the moonlight / ln4

vacay lando norris x maxf!littlesister

no use of y/n, as always.

prompt ⋯ ohhh hey ! wanted to stop by to say i love ur fic and wanted to request insatiable lando with max f’s sister like a forbidden summer fling with all their friends and no one’s supposed to know about their secret relationship ( especially max ) — @444mercss

a/n ⋯ this was much longer than i intended, but the words just kept flowing out of me. thank you to all those who beta read my post and helped with grammar!!! ( @jamminvroomvroom , @theonottsbxtch ) you all helped so much. and thank you to mercs for requesting this. i didn't know i'd enjoy it as much as i did, but it definitely was for 20k words. i'll probably take a week ( or maybe not ) off from writing just to give myself a cool down period, but still here to answer any asks. feel free to pop in. hope you all enjoy this, and remember, readers looks are up for interpretation, along with the outfits. colors of coloring are mention only briefly!

warnings ⋯ SMUT 18+++!!! minors DNI!!!, language, drinking, choking, p in v sex (wrap before you tap!), fingering!(f)receiving, oral(m+f)!receiving, mutual masturbation, overstimulation, feral lando. best friends little sister, brothers best friend dynamic, mutual pining, 'games', horny thoughts. much, much more. but even, possession, jealousy. if i forgot any warnings, feel free to let me know.

wc ⋯ 20.1k (WHEWWW WEEE... edited by @jamminvroomvroom, @theonottsbxtch)

the summertime was one of your favorites. you and all of the rest of your girlfriend’s would spend each and every day together without question. but as time went on, they got their own lives. partners, engagements, jobs. not to say that you weren’t an accomplished young lady, but it was starting to show that you were hung up on a life that was starting to fade.

your brother on the other hand, was keen on keeping you in this life. in tip top shape on your toes, he’d always challenge you in a multitude of ways. or annoy you to no end. typically it was the latter.

but he had invited you this summer on vacation with his friends. you knew them all relatively well, texted here and there, but you never imagined to be trailing along on a villa getaway sponsored by the quadrant house, mainly the famous lando norris himself.

you would be shy to admit it, but you had a bit of a soft spot for lando. him and his cheeky smile. the moles that donned his face. his starlit eyes that radiated an emerald hue beneath the sunlight. it was intangible the way that you could pick apart the details about his nuanced beauty, but it was a secret for you to keep. a secret that no one, especially your brother, could ever find out about.

but that’s all that it was, wasn’t it?

a dream. a pathetic fantasy. you wouldn’t ever gain the courage to talk to him, make a move, despite how often him and max talk about going on dates with girls. talking about his love life, or the rather drab there of. he fucked around a lot, max knew that, and would consistently warn you to never get wrapped up in the same lifestyle as the british driver. you’d hold up your hands in defense, shrieking a ‘don’t worry about me,’ though you wish you gave him a reason to.

why did you feel undeserving of lando– because he was a formula one driver? attractive? charming? were you afraid that you were going to be friendzoned–? oh god, that would be the fucking worst, wouldn’t it? you could never imagine the hangouts being the same. so you’d bite your tongue until it bled, even when your body yearned for the heat of his own.

the villa that you would be staying at was on lake como in italy. it was a beautiful venue, a place that you’d been dreaming of visiting. max knew this, hence why he’d probably sniped you an invite. but it wasn’t like no one wanted you there. everyone did. that was the problem. you were so incredibly loved by all of max’s friends, that he kept them at arm’s length. no one would ever hurt his little sister. not while he was still breathing.

“wow,” you breathed, stepping out of the uber from the airport. the house before you was a stunning makeup of eccentric architecture that dated decades before your own birth. it was a grand building with tall, marble columns. thoroughly decorated landscaping, and even had running fountains in the front. you were so lost in your awe that you didn’t see the huge pair of mahogany doors swing open.

“max,” you turned your head towards your brother who was grabbing your bags from the trunk. you shifted to the source of the voice, finding the british driver standing barefoot with a beach flannel and short-inseam khaki shorts low around his waist. you gulped before looking anywhere else but him.

“lando!” max approached him, arm outstretched for a shake. lando met him half way down the marbled steps, taking his sunglasses off from the top of his head.

“how was the flight, mate? good?” max nodded for the both of you whilst you fiddled with the accessories around your hands. you didn’t ever know what to say to lando. you found yourself unbelievably speechless in his presence.

“not too bad, ‘specially if this is what you’ve got.” lando chuckled at your brother’s words, and then his eyes finally landed on you. you and your comfortable outfit from the plane ride over. you and your pulled back hair, respectfully messy, and the jewelry that adorned your fingers. his eyes caught over the bling, and how you anxiously picked away at the skin.

“never thought she’d grace our presence,” lando said jokingly, which had your head snapping upright. you flushed, sucking your bottom lip with your teeth.

max rolled his eyes, avoidant of the topic of you in general. “whatever, mate, she’s here now, in’she?” what? what was that supposed to mean? was your presence requested? you suddenly felt wanted above all things.

“she certainly is.” lando approached you with his tongue tucked behind his bottom lip, hasty in his steps. you stood up straighter with a light smile on your face, eyes twinkling away from his own. you couldn’t keep eye contact with him. “c’mon, love, i’ll take your bags.”

“are you sure? i can take–”

the bags were grabbed from your hands. you felt the palm of his own for just a moment— the warm flesh, humming low against his own. you felt like he spoke to you through your blood, but you let it go. lando norris wasn’t giving you special attention, that’s for sure.

you promised yourself that much. this whimsical, airy crush of yours needed to be vetted on the spot. he was your brother’s best friend, older than you, and certainly didn’t have time for a girl who wasn’t a celebrity.

right?

he took your bags through the exquisite villa. the interior was even more luxurious than you could ever imagine– floor to ceiling windows, candlelit ceiling lights, flora decorating each wall that you turned to. it smelled delectable, too, wafting germanium and coconut oil. the smile on your face couldn’t be ignored, as you shimmered brighter than the summer sun.

“you like it, then?” came lando’s voice. your head dropped, glancing at him from where he stood, waiting for you to join him on the steps. had he been watching your face?

“you’re joking.” you assured, hands clasped together. “it’s beautiful.”

lando smiled then, too, letting his lower lip snatch between his top teeth. he tried hard to conceal his happiness, but you felt like you could feel it amongst the air. you felt warm all of a sudden and cleared your throat, urging him forward up the spiraling staircase.

you walked in silence with him down the long corridors. you would pause before each door briefly, wondering if he was going to open it, but he didn’t. it wasn’t until you were reaching the ends of the hallway when he stopped, twisting the knob of the white wooden door. he stood aside, letting you in first.

the room you’d be staying in for the next few weeks was more than you could ever dream of. with its spacious interior, personal bathroom, and private balcony, you felt like the luckiest girl alive to be able to experience this. to live in this moment. to be here. in italy, of all places.

lando interrupted your dreaming haze by sliding the bags in. you turned to face him in your unruly, exhausted glory, and he stared at you. a hand of his found the back of his neck.

“so…dinner tonight at seven, pool day tomorrow, um…” he looked around, acting as if he could suddenly have the words appear into his head. “oh and, if you need anything, my room’s just next door.”

he said it with haste, as if he were shy about the fact, and was already stepping out the door.

“wait,” you said, stepping forward. lando hung back, gripping onto the door frame, swinging his head back into the room. “thank you.”

the words seemed to hit him harder than you thought that it would. he blushed a light red, dimming his tanned face, and cleared his throat before nodding. “of course.” he said with out hesitance, making it clear that he would do this for anyone. “‘m glad you’re here.”

and then he was gone.

you stared at the shut door in stunned silence. did you really hear him correctly?

you didn’t let your thoughts linger too long, but you couldn’t help but let it. the curly-haired brunette stayed in your mind whilst you settled in and unpacked. all ounce of his shy, gaunt nature.

by the evening you were more than settled and relaxed. you’d taken a small nap to rejuvenate your energy, and just in the nick of time for dinner. you got ready amply, sliding a comfortable dress over the surface of your body. the straps were thin and fell loose upon your collarbones. you’d pair an elegant pair of low rise heels on your feet, pointy-toed, that matched the color of your dress.

you stared at your reflection in the mirror, the dim yellow lighting illuminating the corners of your face that you so frequently forgot to appreciate. it was in the hours of the night that you could appreciate yourself, unopposed to the gawking looks of strangers.

there was a soft knock on your door at 6:57. you turned, dress swaying from your movements, and cracked it open.

lando stood there on the other side. him and his dark shirt and khaki pants. he wore a pair of leather black loafers that matched his shirt. he smelled good, too, a masculine tint of sauvage.

no words were spoken between the two of you. you simply stared at one another, lost in each other’s features. you resisted the urge to trace the moles on his face with a finger, whilst he fought himself to not reach out and run his hands along the fabric of your dress.

his eyes softened when you met his, cheeks filled with a simple kind of joy. the two of you were done ogling at one another, still foreign in each other’s presence.

“ready?” he asked. you nodded, grabbing a matching handbag from the countertop and slung it over your arm. you shut the door to your room behind you and walked a few paces behind lando. you weren’t close with him like that to walk side by side.

or so you thought.

he dragged his feet to slow his pace, coming parallel to your side. he held his breath for a moment, turning to look at the exposed skin from your dress. you caught his wandering eyes and looked up at him, wandering beneath his emerald depths.

“what?” you asked tenderly, voice hitching in your throat.

“nothing.” he turned his head to face back forward. “just haven’t seen you in a while, that’s all.”

that was an understatement. you haven’t seen lando in almost three years. max had done a stellar job of wanting to keep you separated from his friends, though you weren’t upset about it. you had your own life, and that was perfectly enough for you.

but you were a girl with a heart full of wanderlust, and often dreamed of what you could’ve had. there was a marksmith of delusion prodding the hidden parts of your brain, working tirelessly to pick apart the small interactions you’ve had with lando over the years.

when you turned 18, he brought you to an exclusive club and showered you with gifts, alcohol, and even more. it was a night you wouldn’t forget, feeling lucky enough to manage a dance with him on the dance floor. his hands hovered above your body, the warmth seeping through your skin, rattling your bones. he even got so close to your face that you could feel his breath. smell the alcohol that reeked from him.

you thought you were going to kiss.

and so did he.

but your brother separated the two of you, calling lando over for a group shot. you were left there, stranded on the dance floor, with the phantom touch of a man that you knew you could never have. it pained you to admit such a truth to yourself, but it didn’t loiter. you had a life to get back to, not indulge some silly, fanatical dream that kept you up late at night as a teenager. lando norris was the fantasy, never to become a reality.

though, every time in presence, you’d manage to falter. set those delusions free the second he’d act kindly to you; gentle, tender tenacity that you believed would be special to you. max’s little sister. that’s all you were, though, weren’t you?

“you’ve been well, haven’t you?” you asked him with a hum, holding your bag with both hands in front of you. the leather piece bucked against your abdomen. lando watched, peering to see if he could hold it for you.

“‘course. living my dream, aren’t i?” you’d made it to the end of the hallway. the top of the staircase.

“it’s not a dream.” you said with a softer intonation. he looked back towards you with a raised brow. “it’s reality now, i’d reckon.”

he smiled.

the two of you made it down the steps. you lingered in the grand foyer, beneath the candlelit chandelier. it was still light outside, but the sun was beginning to set. it had created a pink and blue hue over the water’s edge.

but you weren’t looking at the water’s edge.

you were looking at lando. your brother’s best friend. he had his hands in his pockets, facing the open living room, rocking back and forth on his heels. you cut your way to his line of sight staring upward at him. he looked down at you, wondering what you were searching for.

you had considered not doing what you were about to do. you really did!

but your hand was already outstretched, the tips of your fingers grazing over the grown facial hair on his chin. he didn’t jolt from the action and merely stared into your eyes, pupils blown wide from the warmth of your touch.

“i like it,” you commented before taking your hand away, finding yourself into much deep trouble if max had seen the two of you.

“yeah?” lando asked, suddenly much closer to you.

“makes you look older and manly.” you rolled your eyes.

“what? i wasn’t manly before?”

your hand rolled over your mouth to withhold a laugh. “i’ve seen you weep at the sight of fish.”

lando’s face lit up and his tongue prodded the inside of his cheek. “doesn’t make me any less of a man.” he crossed his arms.

“really?”

“just enthusiastic. don’t see a problem with having a bit of character.” you didn’t argue with him further when you saw your brother and other group friends join one another in the living room. they made their way closer to the two of you.

you took a step back from lando. he couldn’t take his eyes off the action, his face falling instinctively. it’s nothing. his expressions mean nothing. they’re not for you.

“c’mon, i’m starvin’.” max called, slapping lando on the back. sure enough, you were walking out the door behind your brother, everyone trailing in an orderly manner.

you heard lando call your name from in front of max. you hummed in response. “you’ll ride with me, yeah?” you blushed. how could you not? max turned his head over his shoulder, his voice saying nothing, but his eyes telling all. he knows how you felt about lando when you were younger.

he knows, he knows, he knows. but surely, surely you’ve gotten over that little crush of yours. and lando, too, hadn’t harbored any feelings towards you either? surely, surely he couldn’t. you were his little sister. and max knew how lando treated girls as of late.

it left a sour taste in his mouth, but he said nothing when you nodded, brushing past him.

lando opened the door for you. his mclaren was a two seater, comfortable, and roared to life when lando turned over the engine. you couldn’t help but laugh feeling the seat vibrate beneath your thighs. it was a feeling of exhilaration that you hadn’t felt in a long time, but a feeling that came perpetually with lando’s presence. being with him made you feel alive, more alive than the years you’d walked this earth.

your excitement had done things to him as well. his eyes were glued to how you reacted, enthralled by your visceral enthusiasm to being in such a tangible sports car. your fingertips grazed across the leather interior of the door handle.

“gonna jump out on me?”

you shifted in the leather seat, crossing your legs over one another. there was a heat building inside of you, deep in your core.

“not if you don’t give me a reason to.”

he chuckled at that. “i’ll try.”

you smiled to yourself, looking down at your fiddling hands. lando stepped on the gas and pulled out of the villa’s extraneously long driveway, leading the pack of friends behind him.

“you look fit.” came his voice, nervous, beneath his breath. your eyes caught his side profile, all rough edges of it. “beautiful, but your brother’d have me by the balls if he heard me say that.”

your breaths were heavy in your chest. “then don’t let him.”

lando’s head whipped to meet your eyes, hand white-knuckling the steering wheel. you weren’t even sure what you were implying with your words, but he hoped that he wasn’t misinterpreting them. god forbid he didn’t understand. you didn’t brush him off like you did as a child, didn’t stumble away bashfully. now, in your grown state, you faced him head on. you challenged him, just as he suspected you would.

“between us, then?”

you nodded, tongue coming to wet your bottom lip. you made a motion of a lock and key against them, throwing the key out the window. he watched, but was drawn back to the road. that was one of the fastest car rides you’ve ever been in with that roaring engine, feeling like you had stepped into the biggest unknown of your very existence.

the restaurant that lando had made reservations for was absolutely beautiful. you couldn’t count the amount of times you’ve been awed by the sites you’ve seen, but you couldn’t help yourself. you were simply one of the luckiest girls with even richer friends.

lando opened the car door for you, sprinting to the other side. you found yourself laughing at the action, finding his urgency cute.

you stepped out of the car and you immediately found your brother, his stance idle before he marched over to you.

“he say anything to you?”

you flushed. between us, then?

“no. what would he say?”

max didn’t elaborate and simply settled for a huff from his nose. lando had been handing off his car to the valet man when he met up with the two of you. your other friends were in tow, eight of you in total, and made it inside the restaurant with ease.

you didn’t even think about what the seating arrangement would be. not until lando pulled out a chair for you, beside him, and you had no other choice but to settle in. not like you were complaining though.

but max was going to. you could see the look on his face when he sat opposite to you, flashing you a pair of warning eyes. but you didn’t know what warranted them– you didn’t even say anything to lando, more or less.

you furrowed your brows at him, feeling far too old for these insolent glances, and picked up the menu. lando sat next to you, mirroring your actions. you placed the napkin on your lap, a polite etiquette you’ve always precluded dinners with.

“ah– look,” you leaned into lando’s space, the heat from his body, the cologne from his shirt, sifting through your nose. it was tempting. “for you.”

your finger pointed to the blackened cod that they had on the menu. lando met you half way, looming over your shoulder at what you were pointing at. as soon as he read it, he scoffed. “fuck off.” you couldn’t help but giggle, attempting to stifle the sound the best you could.

“don’t do that,” lando’s voice came firm, but soft against your ears. he was talking just loud enough for the two of you to be able to hear. you glanced quickly at max, who was lost in conversation with his buddies.

“what?”

“hide your laugh.” you guessed you didn’t realize how often you muffled yourself. your hand lowered to your lap. “you used to do it when you were a teenager, too.” he pointed. you thought for a moment, realizing that he was right. “never understood why. especially since it’s so pretty.”

you froze, staring up at him with weary eyes. he looked confused at your expression. your hand came to slap his bicep. “stop it.” but you were teasing him. he saw right through your tone.

“don’t let him, ‘s what you said, right?”

you swallowed. nodded your head.

his mouth dipped to your ear. his breath hot, just like your cheeks. “he won’t hear a thing then, will he?” lando’s nose brushed against your scalp, and you thought for a moment, dreamed, that he would plant a kiss upon your head. but his lips simply hovered, breaths warming your strands of hair.

but you turned your head to meet his eyes, shaking his contact off. he noticed. tensed. “but he can see, you imbecile.”

that had lando laughing. your face broke with a smile, unable to resist his intoxicating gestures. he simply shrugged, letting you win this one, and his arm came to sling over the back of your chair. his fingertips grazed the strands of your dress, dipping down to your bare shoulders. your posture straightened against the chair, legs crossing over one another beneath the table. he watched you shift, his teeth catching his bottom lip to retain his smile.

the waiter came to take your orders. you ordered your preferred choice and drink, lando following suit. when the table received their drinks, you lifted your glasses for a collective ‘cheers’.

when the main course was finished, you were handed the dessert menus. short a couple, you had to share with the man next to you. you nudged lando’s shoulder with your own and like a dog to a whistle, he was over your shoulder once more, his stubble barely pinching your skin. the thought burst through your head: what would it feel like on your neck? on your thighs, your cunt? you blushed again for what felt like an infinitesimal number, but turned your attention back to the menu.

you pointed at the option that you thought was best. lando hummed, his eyes tracing over the features of your face. you glanced at him. “what?” you asked.

he simply huffed a short laugh and nodded his head at your choice.

it arrived sooner than later and the two of you split the sweet dessert. your brother was still lost in his own conversations, leaving you to your ministrations with lando. whatever they may be, you’d want them all.

when you had your fill and so did he, you couldn’t help but look at him. he turned, and you laughed quietly between the two of you. he raised a brow.

“you’ve got–” you pointed to his lip, but you figured your words were fruitless. you licked at your thumb and raised it to his mouth, cleaning him. his eyes darkened, becoming hooded with the shadows of lust. you even dared to bring your thumb back to your mouth, popping the remnants across your lips with a ‘pop’. lando never thought his dick could be so hard.

“there,” you breathed. “all clean.”

there was a brief silence. one second. two. “you’ve always been trouble, haven’t you?”

your own eyes were hooded. “maybe.” you teased, cleaning your fingers with the napkin. “guess you have to find out?”

lando’s hand gripped tighter on the back of your chair.

“guess so.”

the drive back was tense. tense with your excitement. on the way out, lando and you lingered at the back of the pack. his hand was on your lower back, warm and electric, reminding you that you had stepped into the deep end with him.

you still couldn’t believe what had happened.

lando was speeding down the freeway, weaving his way in and out of cars, a dangerous task that you only felt comfortable with him performing. you’d lose your mind if anyone else was the driver, but he was the professional here, wasn’t he?

you were even so bold to roll the window down and stick your hand out, feeling the harsh slipstreams beneath your nailbeds. you relaxed in the seat, head lolling against the cushion, hair flying into the wind. lando turned his head to look at you, his elbow leaning on the interior beneath the windowsill, and almost swerved into oncoming traffic. you were a picturesque beauty, lounging freely in his passenger seat, legs crossed, free.

you were at peace for the time being, and it was the only way he’d wish to see you. but he could think of other things.

he pulled into the house with ease. it was well lit amongst the long, windy driveway, and he made sure to let you out first. you two were the last to arrive at the house this time, taking your sweet time. you were in no rush to race back to your room, and neither was he.

it was well past 10pm. when you reached the foyer, max was waiting for you.

“bright and early tomorrow?” he asked.

“bright and early.” you confirmed. he pulled you in for a swift hug, rustling the top of your head with that familial brother love that you adored him for.

he patted lando on the back briefly, before narrowing his eyes at him. you didn’t understand what was happening between the two of them, bro code, but lando seemed to understand well enough. max and his buddies traipsed up the steps, and you felt at ease when you heard their doors shut.

it was just you and lando, now, idling in the foyer.

you said nothing but began to walk, trailing forward through the grandeur villa. you were ample with your pace and heard him moving behind you. with a push of your hand, you opened the door to the grand balcony, leaving it ajar for lando to sneak out from.

he did.

there was a patio set there, waiting, and you let your handbag drop onto the coffee table. you sauntered over to the cobblestone walls, the balustrade meeting post to post for about thirty feet. you leaned against the stone. it was cold against your bare back.

lando seated himself in one of the chairs, his legs spreading wide. he watched you lean forward, then spin to face him. your back was illuminated by the halo of the moonlight, drenching you in a pale visage of beauty.

“you wanna know something?” you asked. lando perked up, humming with curiosity. he was too busy admiring your figure, having to pull himself back from such tumultuous thoughts. “i had a crush on you when i was a kid.”

that stifled a laugh from the british driver. “you did not.”

you shook your head. “sure did.” you didn’t know why you were telling him this all of a sudden, but it was weighing heavy on your mind. “max was pissed. knew i only came around when he told me you’d be there.”

the pieces began melding together in lando’s mind. he had been such an idiot boy that he couldn’t see what a prized beauty you were. there was a trace of second hand guilt. a pattern of ‘what-ifs’ trifling through his mind.

“‘was just a stupid girl. tried so hard for you to notice me.” your hands covered your face for a brief moment.

“you always wore skirts,” he recalled, looking at his hands in his lap. he looked up at you, smirk building. “that why?”

you were shameless when you nodded your head.

“so embarrassing, i know–”

“what about now?” he cut you off, clearly wanting to ask this question the moment it left your lips.

“what do you mean?” your mouth went dry, your hands clasping at the balustrade as if you were going to faint. your heart pounded in your chest.

“what do you feel for me now?”

you couldn’t meet his eye. you looked anywhere else but him, in fact, and opted to over your shoulder to admire the view of the ocean beneath the starlight. the ocean wouldn’t judge you. it would wash away your problems, in fact, and not stare you down.

there was a deep intake of breath that had your head settling from its dizzy state. you looked back to lando and he sat there, cocky, upright. but there was a genteel nature about him that didn’t have you as afraid as you thought you’d be.

he raised his arm, outstretching his hand for you.

you swallowed, pushing yourself off from the balustrade. you sauntered towards him, earnest in your steps, before letting your palm rest on his.

he pulled you close, fingers wrapping against your wrist. he was warm to the touch and he could feel your erratic heartbeat in your veins.

lando’s legs spread for you to settle between. you stood above him, looking down at his brunette curls, his stubble, his cheekbones. his own hands were experimental against the planes of your body, touching sweetly against your hips.

“you didn’t answer me.” he repeated.

you crossed your arms over your chest.

“some dreams just remain dreams.”

he waited a beat. you felt his chest rise and fall.

“do you want to dream forever?”

no. no. you didn’t. you wanted your fantasies to become reality. being with him. being loved by him has always been what you wanted.

you lowered yourself on his lap, straddling his waist. you felt his cock thrum beneath the guard of his pants. did he want you the same?

his forehead collided with yours. his nose brushing against your bridge. you shook your head, closing your eyes.

“wake me up,” you mewled quietly, voice deep within your throat. it was a desperate plea, one that you thought he may not understand until he caught the glint in your eye. the wanting. the years of pining from a distance. how he was so wrapped up in his boyhood that he couldn’t appreciate a woman at his side. “please.”

he didn’t wait any longer to meet your lips with his own.

you were cautious with your touches. your hands were on his chest, gripping at the fabric of his shirt. but your kiss was deep by his own volition, gripping your chin with his forefinger and thumb, earning a groveling sound in your throat.

his other hand was stroking your back, pushing you against him until your breasts were firmly against his chest. you gasped at the firm contact, him using it as an excuse to slip his tongue into your mouth. he explored every corner with an expertise you didn’t know was possible. no place went untouched by his saliva, marking a cavern of his own, and perhaps awakening a fantasy that had been dormant for years.

he lied when he said he didn’t notice you.

he lied.

lando would always await your appearance when he went over to max’s house. he’d hear you skip down the steps in whatever mary-jane heel you wore for that day. max would groan when your head popped through the archway, waving at his friends, but your lashes fluttered when you settled on lando.

‘course he fucking noticed.

he thought of you a sweet girl, caring for her brother, with an exquisite taste in fashion. he’d remember the skirts you wore– black ones, pleated ones, plaid ones– they were all committed to the vaults of his memory. he thought you were the most beautiful girl in the world.

and he still did. while you were perched atop of his lap, huffing in nervous breaths, your hands anxiously skirting across the plane of his dress shirt. you shook atop of him as your lips moved coincided with one another. two bodies, melding together beneath the moonlight.

your tongue swirled against his own, hips bucking against the bulge in his pants. your cunt tightened aimlessly, drenching his pants below. he could feel the patten of fabric become lathered in your slick, and it brought him back to earth.

“we can’t.” he breathed against your lips. his chest was beating up and down, unable to calm himself. though he attempted rejecting you, his hand tightened around the fabric of your dress.

your nose brushed against his as you chuckled. “a bit late, isn’t it?” your teeth bit at your swollen, bottom lip. you could see his eyes flash downward at your action, his own tongue wetting his own.

“your brother,” he began to shake his head, still clutching around the fabric of your dress.

“he doesn’t…” you began to say, kissing the sides of his stubble. you were even so bold to take his free hand, guide it to your inner thighs, and let his fingertips caress the wet fabric covering your cunt. it was swollen, desperate for his touch. you’d been desperate for his touch. desperate for as long as you could remember. “have to know.”

lando’s fingers curled upward to apply pressure right on your clit. he didn’t even have to search for it, and you shifted your hips, bucking them across his palm. “fuck, baby…” he groaned into your cheek, followed by a crass chuckle. “you always get this wet?”

your head buried itself into the junction between his neck and shoulder, whining with embarrassment. “jus’ for you…” the words came quietly, but they rang loud in lando’s ears. he could feel the vibrations from your throat, your aching cunt. you were laid atop of him, dripping down your thighs.

“yeah?” he breathed, finding his heart beating rapidly beneath the weight of your body. his fingers began a pattern of motions across your clothed clit—back and forth— and you mewled into his shirt. there was a patch of drool beneath your lips. “look at you, then, made a mess all over me…”

your lips sucked on the skin of his neck, biting at his chest. attempting to shift closer to him, if it was possible, had your cunt aligned over his clothed cock.

“‘n i’ve barely touched you.”

lando wasn’t even sure he could bring himself to. this was his best friend’s little sister. the amount of lines he’s crossed. the friendship he’s had for years suddenly feeling vulnerable, out the door. but he can’t say he hasn’t thought about a moment like this. fantasized about it once or twice.

“touch me,” you pleaded, tilting your head to look at him. your eyes were wide, glossy with your pleasure, whilst his darkened at your contact. “more, i need…” your hips grinded against his palm. “more.”

“fuck,” he cursed beneath his breath. fuck his self control. fuck whatever this was going to do to his friendship. you are real, pining for him in his lap, begging you for his touch. anything from him, really, you would take. this moment felt like it was going to flutter away any moment, and you’d be waking up from a sick, yearning dream.

the hand upon your back steadied you against his body, whilst the fingers of his other moved the fabric of your panties aside. here, with his sensitive fingers, he could feel the heat from your cunt. it washed over him like a wave, retracting, tightening when he flexed his middle finger. you were utterly drenched for him, the cool breeze of the night raising goosebumps along your skin.

you shivered above him, watching how his hand worked beneath your dress. his hand against your back curled around the base of your neck, angling your eyes back up to his own. “eyes on me.” you listened, melted at his soft, demanding tone, and nodded your head. you shimmied frantically across the plane of his hand, but he tsked. “be patient.”

you seemed to understand well enough. he would give you what you wanted, in time. you would be patient, holding back the whimpers deep within your throat. you were just about to implode on yourself when he finally inserted his middle finger into your folds, taunting you dangerously. you gasped, unable to keep yourself still as your back arched. your head fell back into his hand, lando’s thumb swirling around your bare neck.

the straps from your dress fell loose with the motion and you could feel the breeze harden your already taut nipples. his eyes clinged downward at the sight before him, head bending forward to kiss your exposed chest. one of your hands came to clench around his wrist, the other to his neck, holding him fiercely to your body.

your fingers were thrusted deep into the base of his neck, the fade of his hair. you tugged when his finger curled deliciously inside of you, his thumb– acting so expertly– applied gentile pressure to your clit, toiling with your impetuous lust. you felt exposed to him, putty in his hands, weightless against his body.

the british driver’s lips were relentless on your skin. your chest was claimed by his tongue, swirling around the top of your breasts, edging you further to a spectacular orgasm. he sucked tight against your skin, but your head raised to meet your lips to his ears.

“no marks,” you requested, but you heard him growl against your chest. his hands flexed– his wrist clutched with your palm, his hand on the back of your neck– the contact with your neck had you breathless, clenching around his singular finger, and he took blatant notice.

“a secret, yeah?” he confirmed, holding back his groveling tone. the words were bitter when they hit your ears. there was a layered amount of surplus emotions that guarded his heart, held him at arm's length, and he knew it would tear him apart. but now, he focused on you atop of him, and getting you to come.

“mhmm…” you had to clamp your mouth shut from bursting with a wanton moan. it was too much– the way that he swirled his thumb, how his finger was just the perfect length to bottom out inside of you. your hips moved relentlessly, despite his grip around your neck, and you pushed down on his wrist when it started to become too much for you.

but lando had other plans. he shook his head, let out a tsk between his lips, and let his ring finger slip into you with ease. you let out another moan, deeper than the rest, but he responded with a tug on your hair.

with his lips still against your breasts, his motions froze. “quiet.” you hummed a disapproving sound. “want me to stop?”

you shook your head. “no– no!”

you could feel his teeth against your breasts, a cocky smile no doubt with how flustered you became at the thought of him stopping.

“gotta be quiet, love–” and then his lips were back on you, sucking amply at your skin. his head lowered until he captured a nipple between his teeth, letting the ridges toy with your sensitive buds. your head lowered to the top of his as you breathed him in– his shampoo, his cologne– and it didn’t help with containing yourself.

his pace against your cunt quickened. dual fingers sliding in and out of you with ease, thumb riding aggressively on your clit. you could feel the coil inside of you wringing with heat.

lando’s lips found your other nipple, treating it with the same voraciousness that the other received. it was beginning to become too much for you. no man had ever had you this way– putty, liquid, melting– beneath his touch. you feared that you’d never be able to have an orgasm again.

you became antsy in his hands. your grip on his wrist was shaking, your thighs desperately clenching around his waist. he took it as a sign that you were close, and the words fell easily from his lips.

“gonna cum for me?” his chin rested on your chest, angling to look up at your sweating, flushed expression. your eyes fluttered shut as you nodded. his grip around your throat tightened against the columns. you’d never trusted a man so much to not hurt you.

“come on, sweet girl, ‘ve got you.” he promised to you, “bet you’re so pretty when you cum.”

you felt the skin of your lip break into a light gash beneath the weight of your teeth. you’d been so focused on keeping quiet, that you went ahead at your own expense. lando saw the way your eyes opened, and lurched to meet your lips with his own.

the iron upon his tongue didn’t frighten him. perhaps it turned him on in some manner. the lengths that you were willing to go to keep your sweet lips tightened. but as his own tongue swirled around the stinging cut of your lip, you moaned into him. he absorbed the sound, locking it into the expanse of his memories. you had such a sweet voice. he’d never hear something like it again.

“come on, baby,” he urged you once more, speaking into your mouth. his breath was hot, spinning a knot of thread with your own. you felt him laugh at your oncoming orgasm, taking joy from eliciting such pleasure from you. “let me see how pretty you are.”

it didn’t take much longer for your orgasm to reach you. you went taut, shaking in his hands, eyes rolling into your head. you swore you saw stars, and that was just from his fingers alone. it had you wondering what his cock felt like.

your head fell limp against his shoulder, breathing heavily, clutching the fabric of his shirt. you didn’t want to let him go. his fingers laid idle inside of your tightened walls, not wanting to release the feeling either. not with his hand drenched, his pants soaked, and his forehead dripping with his own sweat. his cock had been painfully hard, a pool of his precum seeping through his pants, combining with your own. it was a beautiful, disastrous mess that he’d initiated between you two, but he felt no regret.

you sniffled against his shoulder, breezing with the cold air, and let your arms wrap around his neck. you hid your face against his body, attempting to bury your embarrassment within him. you had just come on the balcony atop lando’s lap. what fucking world were you living in? you’ve had feelings for him for what felt like a century, and now a dream that you didn’t even know was possible of coming true, came at the palm of his hand.

lando couldn’t believe it either. you were tucked against his body like a hand to a glove, a perfect fit, breathing heavily, shaking, against his palms. your cunt roared with a beating heat, swimming with the orgasm he had given you. proud wasn’t a word that could surmount to this feeling.

and he said nothing when he fixed the straps of your dress, gauging a more presentable you. he tucked your hair behind your ears, fingertips loitering on the expanse of your cheek. you smiled into him, coming to raise your head to meet his eyes.

his eyes fell to your blistering lip. the swollen buds that he sucked the blood out of. his forehead met yours, and neither of you said anything; just a soft breath and heartbeat between the two of you.

within seconds he took his hand from your cunt, washed his fingers against his tongue, and let it fall to your bare back. you were stunned at the motion, but drool pooled in your mouth. you gawked, openly, just how hot the action was alone.

lando stood with you in his arms. one hand on the back of your neck, the other cupping your thigh. your legs, whilst trembling, tightened around his waist for support as he took you through the quiet villa. the only lights were the candles that were still burning, but you didn’t see them, your head hiding in the crevice of his neck. he hummed quietly, a rhythm that had your eyes beginning to lull with sleep.

you heard him open a door quietly and shuffle around the mess on the floor. your room, no doubt. you’d left a pile of clothes as a welcome for yourself when you were picking out your attire for the evening. it didn’t help him, either, by being surrounded by your scent. your perfume, you, it swirled around him, taunting him. dared him to fuck his best friend’s little sister.

lando bent down to lay you into your bed. you fell against your will, hands still upright for him to fall in. but he just couldn’t let himself.

he did, however, let his fingers trail across your bare thighs, your knees, your calves, ankles, until he was met with your heels. his hand lingered on the back of your ankle, angling one of your feet upright to slip a shoe off. his fingers moved to the other, placing the expensive pair on the ground. you stretched your hands above your head, falling deep within the pillowy, feathery embrace.

you stared up at him. your hair messy, dress disheveled, eyes heavy with exhaustion. and he looked down at you, moving forward to let his fingers trail up your sternum, the perks of your breasts. the moment was so quiet. only your breaths and his own could be heard– and maybe the pounding of your heart.

he looked beautiful looming above you, hovering with a protective, apologetic look. apologetic? what did he have to apologize for? except for a mind-blowing orgasm, that is.

his hand froze against the place of your heart. palm flattening, he could feel just how fast your heart was racing. you grabbed his wrist, thumb sliding up and down against his veins. he swallowed.

“don’t know if we should do this again.” he spoke quietly.

your heart broke. you sat up straight in your bed, confusion written all across your features. you thought that this was something between the two of you. that he wanted you. and now what was happening? did you do something wrong?

“why?” you asked, feeling tears well in your eyes. you couldn’t help it. the girl inside of you had come to the forefront, her dreams of being with lando being squashed beneath the weight of his words.

he sighed deep, unable to meet your eyes. he was about to say something before you interrupted him.

“you don’t want me?”

his head snapped in your direction, almost breaking clean off his spine with just how fast he went. he shook his head, hand coming to cup your cheek, but you shook his affections away. your hand dropped from his wrist, wanting to feel nothing of his heart.

he spoke your name. twice. three times. you looked back toward him, tears hot in your eyes. “hey.” you focused on his voice. “you know that’s not true.”

your brows furrowed. “do i?”

his expression dropped.

he fell to his knees before the side of the bed. an action no man has ever done for you. you gaped visibly, watching as both his hands came to rest upon your knees. he leaned into you. stubble tickling your thighs.

your name was sweet on his tongue.

“what would your brother say–?”

“fuck what he thinks.” you leaned down.

lando’s head dropped between your thighs, taking a deep inhale of your skin. you shivered, letting your hand rest on the back of his neck.

“we need t’give it time.” he said upon raising his head. he looked at you with a glimmer in his eyes. the moonlight shimmered through your windows, casting a vague gracefulness of illumination across his tanned skin.

“how much?”

lando wasn’t sure. his silence was an answer enough. you sighed, letting your body fall against the bed once more. he lifted himself to sit beside you, placing both hands at your hips to cage you in.

“hey,” he said to gauge your attention back to him. “we’ll figure it out, won’t we?”

you wanted to believe him. but you weren’t sure that you could. lando leaned down to kiss your sternum against the fabric of your dress.

“you still want me?” you asked, voice cracking with your emotions.

“i’ve wanted you,” he said against your stomach, “since the day you came down in that white skirt.”

you gasped, head tilting to look at him. that was one of the first times you met him– third, maybe– you remembered which one he was talking about. it was a skirt with little white bows, embellished with threads of ribbon and lace.

“the one with the bows?”

“that fuckin’ skirt…” he scoffed with a laugh. you were still floored, but managed to smile. you couldn’t believe his confession, finding it unbelievable. unbelievable that maybe, maybe you had a chance with him. the girl inside of you was squealing, but the woman didn’t quiver beneath him.

there was a momentary silence between the two of you. but you shifted, moving to stand. lando watched you from his perch on your bed, hair ruffled and eyes red from his own wrought of emotions. you didn’t expect this from him. this sensibility.

you began to strip with your back turned to him. he watched. silently.

you stripped of your panties and threw them over your shoulder. lando caught them, still gawking at you. “keep them.” you spoke. “you ruined them.”

that had him laughing. but he kept them, staring down at the lace material. you threw on a large shirt from your suitcase that reached your mid thigh. you finally spun around to meet his eye, but he didn’t dare move.

“what?” you asked, his staring becoming more intense.

he swallowed. shook his head.

“you better go.” you spoke for him as you approached your bed, narrowly dodging him when you threw yourself down. his eyes raked over you, speechless. “lando.” you reaffirmed, bringing him out of his haze. he let out a sigh and stood, hand coming to brace the back of his neck.

he lingered before opening your door, glancing at the dress on the ground. and then he was gone, shutting your door behind him, before falling to his own bed. you were lucky to find sleep that night, and it came easy with your exhaustion. but anxiety thrummed through your mind, bustling with a pint of rejection. it was so sweet from his tongue, but it hurt all the same.

lando laid in his bed before he showered. changed. laid in his bed with the thought of you. how did this happen? how could he forfeit a lifelong friendship? it was simple, really. you were the most beautiful woman he’s ever met, and he couldn’t ever let you go. he’s always watched you from a distance. liking your posts, viewing your instagram stories. he was obsessed with you in more ways than one, but that was a secret for him and him alone.

yet, he couldn’t get max out of his mind. how he would react to him? to you? fuck, the thoughts were brewing a storm inside of his head. the damage had already been done, his heart already thrumming with the essence of you in its wake. you spread through the blood in his veins, latching onto his vitality like a parasite. though he welcomed the thought, the wonder of you overtaking his life.

that was a thought that he could fall asleep to. and he did, snoring with a good guzzle that had you tossing and turning.

the morning came and went. you were up early, as you promised max, but took time planning your wardrobe. you wore a bathing suit beneath your choice of clothing, but what was essential was the short, white, skirt that rode mid-rise on your waist.

the shirt you wore was thin, sheer, a light beige. it had straps that came down to tie a bow between your breasts, and cropped enough to leave heaven to the imagination. for one man in particular, that was your goal.

‘i don’t know if we should do this again.’

fuck that.

you skipped down the steps and were met with max awake bright and early. he had been cooking breakfast, a favorite of yours, and was just about finishing up before he glanced towards you.

“morning!” came his preppy voice. he was wearing a thin white shirt and swim trunks, ready to take on the day to swim.

“good morning.” you sat down at the lush kitchen island, max sliding a plate of food in front of you. you dug in immediately.

“woah,” max commented, sitting down beside you with a cup of tea. “relax. thought we were going swimming?”

you coughed. “we are.” you continued to finish your food with haste. “just hungry.”

you heard more steps come down the stairs. but you didn’t turn your head until max did, his eyes brightening as his close friend was approaching.

“mate,” max said, eyeing up lando. “you look like shit. did ‘ya sleep last night?”

lando hummed with his tired voice, already prepared to go swimming as well. he wore a black shirt with papaya swim trunks. you ogled at him before he looked at you, turning away quickly once he skirted his eyes towards your direction.

“slept great.”

you scoffed.

max and lando turned towards you. the fork in your hands dropped and your eyes widened. a blush creeped onto your cheeks.

“you snore,” you commented, still refusing to look at him. “you know that?”

max turned towards lando. “your rooms are next to each other?” the words were poignant, aimed as a remark to the british driver. he simply shrugged his shoulders in response, not finding any reason to engage.

you stood with your plate in hand, making headway for the sink. from behind, you could feel a pair of eyes heating the plane of your back. you weren’t stupid. and neither was he, knowing exactly what you had done this morning.

the skirt you wore was a reminiscence of his confession the previous night. it brought back the childlike memories of grade school. a time when life was simpler, and you were just a girl, and he was just a boy. but he knew you weren’t that girl anymore. a woman grown, you were elegant. he didn’t understand how you were related to max, a scruffy rascal, but he was happier for that.

when you turned on the water for the sink, lando approached you. max had been tending to his phone, scrolling through social media, so he hadn’t been paying attention. lando’s shoulder brushed against your own when you were scrubbing, desperate to say something.

“you–”

“max,” you interrupted lando, turning off the water and turning towards your brother. lando took a side step away from you, giving you space when max looked up from his phone. you received a side eye from the british driver, his lip curling with pettiness. he saw what you were doing now. was this your form of punishment?

max responded with a ‘hm?’ “you want me to cook tonight?” you offered, and max glanced at lando, who never stopped looking at you. you saw max’s expression tense.

“why not. could save us some money, won’t it?” he said, waiting for lando to add on. “right, lando?”

lando spun around, releasing his tight grip on the counter. he took a sharp breath in, nodding his head in agreement. you watched as a blush creeped onto his face. you bit on the inside of your cheek, but weren’t expecting lando to retaliate.

he spoke your name, which had your head lifting. “what happened to your lip?”

you froze. eyes widening. your own lip twitched with a remedy of a snarl, and he bit back, his nose curling with distaste.

max approached you two, observing your scabbed lip from the night before. “shit. he’s right. what happened?”

you reached back to clench the marble counter beneath your fingers. “uh–” lando held back his devious smile. “bit it in my sleep, ‘spose.”

max simply shrugged his shoulders, and headed for the backyard where the pool was. when the door shut, you let out a sigh. lando stepped in front of you, caging you in with his arms. his head dipped to your shoulder, his curls brushing against your cheek.

“get off me,” you commented with grit, biting your words. lando shook his head, not moving.

“don’t play this with me,” he said, lifting his head with a deep inhale. you raised a brow at him, having absolutely no idea what he meant.

“said we weren’t going to do this again, didn’t you?” you made him sit with his words. make him roll in the fucking mud. “we’re not. and if we were–” you shoved his chest with both your hands, which had him lurching backward. he didn’t go far. “i’d fucking win.”

he invaded your space again, leaning his lips towards yours. you felt his breath again, his scent creeping into your nose. it was like he never left.

“y’sure ‘bout that?” he said with a light tone, teasing you with the vibrato of his words. you swallowed a lump in your throat.

but you stood your ground. “positive.”

lando lingered for a second longer, leaning closer to your lips, and you thought he was going to kiss you out in the open kitchen. “whatever you say.” were the only words he said before he leapt away from you suddenly, leaving your exposed body cold.

he followed you out to the pool, never leaving enough space between you two. but you had other plans–sticking by max’s side would surely drive him insane.

so you sat beside your brother all day. in the pool chair next to him. tanning, reading a book, scrolling on your phone– it didn’t matter. it wasn’t long before the rest of your brother’s friends joined everyone by the pool.

most of them were in the pool by the afternoon. you had made your way to the kitchen, shedding of your skirt and top. left in your swimwear, you wanted a snack.

in the bowls of fruit you found, you pulled some mango, strawberries, and bananas. you cut them with a knife from the drawer, and put them in a bowl. there was more than enough fruit for everyone, but you took some of your favorites in the meantime.

the sun was hot that day, and you had forgotten your sunglasses. sunscreen on your head would cause greasy hair, and you didn’t want that. so you searched briefly in the kitchen for any sort of hat that someone left, and you found one.

it was a papaya hat. with mclaren’s logo, and a number 4 on it. you smirked, bringing the hat atop your head.

it fit nicely and you grabbed the bowl of fruit. you made your way back outside to the patio and your brother noticed you immediately. he called your name, and you sauntered over.

lando and his mates had been in the pool playing with a frisbee, but as soon as max had said your name, he was looking over his shoulder. he went speechless.

with his hat atop your head and your exposed body, he could help but drool at the sight of you. a droplet trailed down his chin, but he dunked the lower half of his mouth into the pool before anyone saw.

“for us?” max asked towards the bowl of fruit. you popped a slice of mango into your mouth, biting tenderly into the piece before nodding your head. lando swallowed tightly, practically shaking beneath the surface of the water.

you placed the bowl on the wooden table and stood back as you were met with the onslaught of a crowd of wet dudes. you backed up towards the stairs of the pool, ready to hop in yourself. you thought yourself a genius– having the entire pool to yourself while they ate. but before you stepped in, your elbow was caught in a warm palm.

lando faced you with his bare chest dripping with chlorine, hair ruffled and damp. droplets of water slithered down his cheeks, which you felt tempted to rub away with your thumb, but you retained from stretching out your hands.

he simply stared at you. and you stared at him.

then he flicked the end of the cap with his pointer finger and smirked, raising his brows with a teasing fashion. he had the nerve to glance at your chin, narrowing his eyes. you didn’t have time to react before his own thumb came to wipe away a droplet of mango juice from your chin.

the action was fast, unnoticed by anyone around you. you blushed instantly, freezing in place. lando popped his thumb into his mouth, tongue visibly swirling around the fingertip. he made a humming sound, approving of the taste.

“tastes sweet.” he muttered to you. he raised his eyes, hooded beneath the glare of the sunlight. “not my favorite, though.”

holy shit

you thought you were going to pass out.

with your eyes flared wide, you spun away from him, throwing the hat to the side, and dove straight into the pool.

you needed to cool off. desperately. and your time in the pool did. when you finally climbed out, max was lounging in the pool chair beneath an umbrella. you joined him in your seat, drying yourself off with your towel. lando was watching the entire time, sitting opposite to max.

when you finally laid down with the towel of your bare legs, max scoffed at his phone. clearly, he was trying to get your attention.

“what?” you said, the hat you had thrown off was now back in your lap.

“look,” max handed you his phone, and you immediately rolled your eyes. it was a picture on instagram of your ex-boyfriend and his new girlfriend. his new girlfriend that he cheated on you with. he was a fucking asshole, and max knew that from the very beginning.

“ugh,” you groaned, handing his phone back to him. max took it and was about to keep scrolling.

“what?” lando asked, curious now to see what the two of you were grumbling about. max handed him his phone, but he was still confused who he was looking at.

“her ex,” max commented with a rumble. lando’s eyes shot up at you, watching your expression shift. lando was now investigating thoroughly, scrolling through this guys posts. he still had some of you up, and it only angered him. it angered him to an unfair degree, feeling the pinnacle of jealousy, although entirely unwarranted.

“i brought him to a race once,” you pointed out, unable to look at either of them. instead, you settled on the water in the pool. “barcelona, last year.” your arms crossed over your chest.

lando raised a brow. “he was that leach for leclerc, wasn’t he?” you were surprised that he remembered, but nodded your head. it wasn’t a good memory. he had abandoned you the minute you arrived at the race in search of the ferrari driver, and had to manage yourself alone in the crowds. it was miserable, but at least you got to see a good show.

“yeah,” you commented with a huff. “fucking asshole.”

“asshole.” max mirrored you.

“why did it end, then?” lando was pushing the boundaries, but max didn’t seem to notice or mind.

though you did.

you didn’t want to relive the thought. the embarrassment. the entire fucking heartbreak that you pathetically went through.

“because i was stupid.” is all you said before you stood with your towel, making your way inside without another word.

max turned to face lando and smacked him on the shoulder. “the fuck did you ask for?” came his harsh words. lando was stunned, not intending to chase you away.

“shit, sorry i–” lando was quick to rise to his feet, though, not even glancing back at max before he chased after you. “i’ll fix it,” he promised before disappearing inside, and max simply shrugged, wondering just how lando could work his wonders. though he doubted he truly could.

lando called your name from deep inside the villa but you were already half way up the steps. you froze when you heard his voice, stifling back any sounds from your chest. he caught up to you, standing a step beneath you.

“i’m sorry–” he said, “i was just—”

“just what, lando?” you grumbled, truly not wanting to hear his words. “you wanna know just how embarrassed i was? huh? when i found he was fucking one of my best friends?”

lando stood there, shocked, coming to hold out his arms for you to fall into. but you didn’t. “i was such a fucking idiot. it was right in front of me but i didn’t believe it. how smart of me, right?!” your voice raised when lando cornered you at the top of the stairs, your back against the wall.

you couldn’t help but spew emotional nonsense. “oh woe is me, truly, you’d probably end up doing the same–”

lando caught your chin between his thumb and forefinger, his other hand leaning against the wall. “what did you say?”

you gulped, not meaning for the words to slip off your tongue. shit. he looked pissed. pissed that you would think so lowly of him.

“i–” you gulped. “i didn’t mean–”

his hand tightened around your chin. “really? that what you think of me?” no, no, no! you didn’t. you didn’t. you shook your head in his hold, your eyes largening with your emotions.

“if you were my girl,” lando whispered to you, not breaking eye contact with you once. “you’d know it.”

but you dared to disagree.

“what am i then?” you challenged, your voice raising in the echoing halls. “what was i yesterday, a whore?”

he bared his teeth at you, displeased with what you called yourself. his hand from your chin latched onto the side columns of your throat and your mouth parted with a delectable pleasure.

“you needed me, yeah?” he was sure to comment. but you didn’t budge.

“get your hands off me.” you bit out.

“you didn’t seem to mind yesterday.”

“clearly you didn’t do a good job for a second run,” the words pinched his ego, though the hand against the wall came to slide around your waist.

“weren’t you begging for me? or did i make that up?” you seethed at his cocky tone.

“think you had too much to drink. i’d never beg.” it was a straight lie that came from your lips. he knew it. you knew it. but you pretended to keep your strength.

“‘touch me, please,’” he mocked in your tone.

“must’ve dreamed it. thinking ‘bout me, lan?” the nickname was new for him on your tongue and he bristled, along with the blood soaring to his cock.

“‘more, need–” you slapped your hand over his mouth.

“fuck you.” you hissed. his mouth curved to a smile before he let his grip on you go.

“we’ll see if you’re lucky tonight.”

you brushed past him with a scoff and he stood there idly, watching your hips sway side to side. he chuckled at your retreat and you flipped him off before entering your room and slamming the door. you were done with these fucking games, his toying words. he had no right to approach you after finding out about your ex.

you immediately turned on the shower in your room and stripped of your bathing attire. it was when you were searching aimlessly through your drawer of panties, you remembered that you were missing a pair.

a smirk grew on your face, and you couldn’t help but feel that you held the power.

a few hours had passed after your interaction with lando, and he couldn’t help but feel anxious. you were missing from the entirety of the activities around the pool, and he even dared knock on your door, but he resisted. though it tore him apart, thinking about your writhing anger.

but you, you had other plans. you’d showered off from the pool, taken care of your skin, and taken a nap before you were to get up and make dinner.

you had come up with the idea for dinner.

fish. as everyone enjoyed.

you smirked to yourself as you made your way down the steps. it was quiet, and you heard no churning of others about the halls. it was nice to revere yourself in the solitude of the late afternoon, hoping that you would have the entirety of the downstairs floor yourself.

you got to work with your scheme and pulled out the fish from the fridge. whatever you were making, you were sure it would be delicious.

and when the meal was just about done, you heard a strangulated sound of ample footsteps down the staircase. you were just about done setting the dinner table when max soared through the kitchen, aiming right for the pans and pots of ingredients you sniffed.

“woo!” he cheered, clearly delighted with your cooking. the other boys at his side were quick to mimic him, agreeing with his statement. your hands clamped over your heart, showing how happy you were that they were thrilled.

“well,” you urged. “go sit! i’ll bring it over.”

they didn’t hesitate. beginning to take spoonfuls of rice, vegetables, and the fried fish you whipped up, they were eager to get a headstart. your thoughts wondered where the british driver was, but your thoughts were answered when you heard the last pair of footsteps through the grand foyer.

you just finished placing the bowls of food in front of the eager boys. they weren’t polite in waiting for everyone to sit down, but you didn’t mind.

it was an afterthought for what his meal would be. of course you knew he despised fish. you listened to everything he said when you were younger, years ago, and never forgot.

you leaned against the kitchen aisle, facing him, and he immediately recoiled at the smell. his nose turned upright, curling upward with his lip, and you saw the sparkle of his canines.

lando approached you, the stove, and took a glance at what the helpings were. he turned his head over his shoulder, giving you a knowing look, which you returned with a small shrug and a smirk.

“witch.” he uttered, hands clamping around the edges of the countertops, unsure what he was going to fish through the cabinets for.

“don’t worry.” you said, lando turning to raise his brows. you slid him a bowl filled with greens, vegetables, and a little bit of rice. “plenty for you, don’t you think?”

you cocked your head toward the empty seat, but he instead took the one right next to you. the bowl in your hands was pungent with sprouts, and even you recoiled. you placed it down in front of him, letting your hand linger on his back. “i’m no dietician,” you said quietly. “but i tried to substitute as much as i could.”

“thank you,” he said through clenched teeth, fucker.

you were quaint with your serving, taking enough for your fill, and sat down swiftly. conversation grew between all of the men, your brother included, and you ate in silence. you had done more thinking about your situation with your ex, and recoiled with a sickening feeling in your stomach. lando watched from the corner of his eye, noticing how little you touched your fork with your lips and spun your spoon amongst the rice.

he knew he said tribulating words. taunted you. teased you. but he did not mean for it to stretch as far as it had. you were twiddling with the accessories on your wrists, barely saying a word the entire meal, and he felt that it was his fault. you’d only gone as far enough to tease him with a full fish basking over an open flame on the stove.

it wasn’t shameful when he was devouring the meal you had cooked. despite the repugnant smell of fish lingering in the air, your food was…divine. he wasn’t all that surprised, but it was a nice treat to end one of the first full days.

but the most courageous ideas filled his head. he kept looking at you, staring, out of the corner of his eye. you were entirely blue with your melancholy, and he resented the soured expression upon your beautiful face. he took it as his own responsibility to relieve you of your worries. your anxieties. insecurities. as it was his fault that they emerged.

it didn’t take long before beneath the table, lando’s hand wandered. he began with a soft graze of your knee which had you sitting up straight, white skirt you dressed in before remaking its appearance around your hips.

you turned your head to face him, eyes flaring with wonder of just what the fuck he was doing. but his expression stayed nonchalant, undeterred from his conversation with your brother. you decided that you should play the same game, sliding into the roll of uncaring of his soft touches.

though it was much easier said than done.

his fingers were daunting. restless. he took a break to sip his water with his opposite hand, divulging into deeper conversation as his hand trailed higher. it was then that he spread his palm wide over the span of your thigh, bare, pinching at the skin. you leaned over the table, leaning your head into your palms that were supported by your elbows upon the table.

you sighed, your other leg jumping up and down. you attempted to listen to whatever they were talking about– football, instagram, the races– but you couldn’t tune in for long. not when he tugged the fabric of your skirt to the side, and let his pinky dance across your folds. fuck.

attempting to muffle your struggle, you brought your glass to your lips, sipping in promptitude. you leaned back, tucking your chair as far as you could against the table. it finally caught lando’s attention, briefly, when he gave you a once over with a cheeky smile. max caught the action, raising a brow at you, but you simply swallowed down your drink and crossed your hands over your lap.

your lap, that so happened to house lando’s hand between your thighs. your cunt was clothed by your panties, but you could still feel the pressure of his finger lodging against your slit.

you wrapped your hand around his wrist, gripping tight with the desire for him to stop, but he would do no such thing. he went as far as using his ring finger to stroke the cotton of your underwear, grazing over your clit as if it were nothing. he circled around your tender bundle of nerves, refusing to leave it alone.

your second hand came to wrap around his wrist, higher up on his forearm, pleading indefinitely to halt his movements. your thighs clenched impossibly tight around his hand, suffocating him, but it didn’t stop him. it only had him steadfast in his pursuit– to get you to come at this dinner table.

with your force against his forearm, you were sure to leave bruises of your fingertips in your wake. but you didn’t care. through your tension, he could feel your pleasure. he knew that you would writhe, squirm, but you couldn’t. not here.

you found yourself trembling. your grip around his wrist softened, lip caught between your top set of teeth. you were lucky that the tablecloth was acting as a barrier between any wandering eyes–though, shamefully, that was the last thing on your mind.

but right now, you felt yourself coming to a clearing. a light at the end of the tunnel in the name of your orgasm. shit.

it took only one quick glance around the room to see that everyone was done with their meals. with empty plates, they were awaiting more. and more you shall give, best to get up rather than submit to lando’s toilsome teasing. you couldn’t give him this pleasure. not when he toyed with you, refused to admit to any truths that might belittle his feelings.

you finally shoved his hand away. it took all the might you had, and it even had his head shifting in your direction. you stood, and he immediately tugged the hem of your skirt down beneath the table cloth. if anyone noticed, they didn’t say a word.

“dessert, anyone?”

there was a small rally of cheers, and you smiled. it was the only thing that could get your mind off of lando’s hand between your legs. the flushed expression you wore didn’t wane until you were alone in the kitchen.

it was ice cream that was for dessert, and that would be enough. you put out some toppings for them to choose from, and returned with the platter. you set it toward the center of the table, and the pickings were gone instantly. everyone had their own serving, side bowl, ready to go.

but lando waited for you to settle back in before he grabbed a pint of vanilla. he nudged the ice cream scooper towards your direction, a silent indication that had him asking if he could serve yours. you simply nodded, even though your cunt burned with the phantom touch of his fingers. he did that to you in no way another man could. leave you wanting more. sex with your ex boyfriend had been a joke. you never came. ever. you only did when it was at your own hand, your own touch. but with lando…

lando on that balcony, dressed in the pale moonlight. you, his angel, glowing halo of energy illuminating your face, unraveled before him. he doesn’t think he’s ever met such a woman receptive to his touch. he’s fucked girls before, too many for max’s taste–hence his displeasure– but they weren’t like you. they didn’t squirm, whimper, in his hold. they’d moan like they were being televised, recorded, ready to be on a screen play.

you were natural. beautiful. incapable of being anyone but yourself. he admired you for such bravery, commending you silently through the cosmic planes. though you could not hear the words from him, you felt a warmth coming from his direction despite the cold treat being scooped into the dish in front of you.

he gave you more than enough and smiled. a real one, you caught. it was a break from the humidity, a breeze that was most welcomed upon your skin. fuck. you were supposed to be mad at him, weren’t you? weren't you supposed to plot your volatile revenge for him touching you?

you were.

when he settled beside you with his own serving, you were quick to shuffle a bit closer to him. the chair scooted across the floor, a vibration felt beneath his own, and he bristled. what were you up to? you appeared to be happier, a bit less caught up in your own head, and that he could be grateful for. you even engaged in a few conversations with max’s friends.

they were lovely chaps, truly, but they were his friends. not yours.

lando was just about to respond to a question that max had asked him, but he coughed on his ice cream, the feeling of your fingertips darting across his crotch taking a huge galavanting surprise out of him. he didn’t know that you had such austerity within you, but it was a welcome discovery.

but your skillfulness was not.

the outline of his cock beneath his shorts was obvious. you felt the light curve, the tip, the base all beneath your palm. it was an empowering sensation, hidden beneath the table cloth, and lando had to outstretch both of his hands to steady himself.

“y’alright, mate?” max asked when lando coughed. the british driver nodded beside you, leaning forward.

“yeah. fine. carry on?” max repeated his question for lando. before he was about to answer for a second time, your hand curled around the base of his cock, feeling full in your palm. your thumb brushed against his tip, smiling to yourself when you felt a light wet patch against your finger.

he sucked in a tight breath, but answered max with a strained voice. he clenched his jaw tight and his tongue poked the inside of his cheek. you knew you were riling him, and it was paying off to see him flustered.

you continued your stroking motion discreetly beneath the table. the excitement of being caught was perhaps too thrilling, and the presence of your hand against his cock only excited you further. he was big. that was enough for you to be floored. your guesses as a edgy teenage girl were correct, and the woman inside of you purred at the idea of him inside of you.

little did you know, he thought the same. when his fingers were lodged inside your hot folds, your deathly tight grip clamping around him, he knew that he had to have you. he knew it years ago, too, but just how pretty you were atop of him…how receptive you were to his touch– it was a pillar of pleasure that continued to build and build, until it will ultimately fall.

until it will fall, and he is deep inside of you. with the outline of his cock embedded in your lower belly he would feel satisfied, with his cum dripping from your cunt, he could find a peace from this torturous lust that overtook every fucking part of his mind. he needed you. carnally. in whatever fashion labeled him as a barbarian, he would hunt you down if that is what you wanted.

and maybe you did.

you wanted him to chase you. to fight for you. to appease the teenage girl inside of you that yearned for his affections, his oblivious attentions. you felt that you deserved it for all the work you put in through your teendom. the boys you rejected. the time you gave up to attend his races.

was that such a bad thing to be wanted? to be wanted above all, by the man of your wonderlike dreams? but was he so dreamy, then, when he glanced at you with his needy, preening eyes when you held his cock so firm in your hand?

the answer was undoubtedly yes.

you felt the pulse of his cock against your hand. it was a delectable vibration that beat for you of all people. you felt more than divine prowess gripping his length, such a dirty, lewd, action beneath the table. and none of them knew what you had been doing. how you were affecting him. it was a secret wasn’t it?

the catalyst for your movements was about to be thwarted when he readjusted his hips in the chair, bucking fiercely against your touch, your hold on his dick.

conversations around you began to dull down to a minimum. the night was ending, and he felt himself rearing a release. but he couldn’t. not here. fuck. he gripped on your hand beneath the table, shivering, shaking, as he pleaded you with his eyes. they were wide drawn, glossed with a desperation that you needed permanently in your life. it was a face you wouldn’t forget. ever. how he yearned to cum in your hand, but it wasn’t the right time. when would be the right time?

“since you made dinner,” max began, letting out a grueling burp, “i say we lot ‘ought to tidy up, shall we?” the boys nodded and hummed amongst each other in agreement. they made quick pace clearing the table, and this was lando’s excuse to rip himself free of your devilish hand. though he wanted nothing more than to cum with your sleek fingertips, he had to be nonchalant about it all.

he cleared his throat when he stood, feigning a quietness that felt unusual, but no one said a word. you smiled to yourself, pulling your hand away back to your lap. it was damp from his precum, sordid with an urge to pop a finger or two into your mouth. and you did. pretending to clean yourself from any residue of icecream, you licked your fingers clean.

lando stared. unable to take his eyes off of you. he lingered with his hand around your bowl and plate, his breath hitching in his throat. devil woman, he thought.

when the dishes were loaded into the dishwasher and the fragile ones laid out to dry, you finally stood. you arched your back, stretching your limbs, but felt cold on your cunt. it was the air conditioning that cooled you, reminding you that he was the one to tease you first beneath the table.

your brother bid you goodnight with a kiss to your cheek, whilst the others thanked you sincerely for the meal. you were grateful to receive such gratitude, but it wasn’t from the man you wanted it the most.

tucking your chair into the table, you made your way into the grand kitchen. with its tiled walls, marbled kitchen island, lando stood at the epicenter. with a towel in his hand, drying the last few of the dishes, he watched you saunter in.

his tongue poked at the inner corner of his cheek with a clenched jaw. boy, did he have words for you. you and your actions. how you ruined him at the dinner table whilst talking to your brother of all people. it was like you wanted them to see–

when you joined him side by side, the pair of you said nothing for a moment. but the moment when lando scanned the room front to back, he dropped the towel and grabbed onto you.

he spun you around so your front pushed against the kitchen aisle, your back arching against the palm of his hand. his second went around the front of your throat, pulling your head up to his own.

“that what you wanted?” he growled into your ear, trembling with his edged orgasm teetering on the tailend of a massacre. “hmm? tell me, baby.”

you were at a loss of words, dizzied from the grip around your throat. you wished that he would leave bruises.

then he bent you over the counter, the cool surface eliciting a gasp from deep within you. his hand flexed over your back, scaling your spine.

“being a fucking tease…”

“you started it.” you retaliated with a childlike immaturity.

lando chuckled as his crotch came flush against your cunt. your wet, dampening cunt by the second. the hand that had been latched to your throat moved to your skirt, toying with the fabric. he scoffed, feeling the wetness of your panties. “bet you’re still wet anyways.”

you were.

your face flushed.

“dirty fucking girl.” he said quietly, a comment to himself, but loud enough for you to hear. you swayed your hips against his, desperate for a flickering sensation of friction.

“ah ah,” he tsked, landing a slap to your ass. the sound ricocheted through the echoing kitchen. “think you deserve it after tonight?”

you mewled in response, your cheek freezing against the countertop. the heat from your asscheek was enough to satisfy you for the moment, your thighs clenching together. he ogled, head twisting in a fashion that was revered with lust.

with a fist he made a makeshift ponytail of your hair, pulling your head back against his chest. “hmm?”

“no.”

“no?” he’d repeat. you nodded your head, submitting to him without question. he was peeved that you didn’t fight back, but would take your submission with earnestness. but you had other plans brewing inside your head. ones that you knew would drive him up the fucking wall.

but that would come later. for now, you let your head fall backward onto his shoulder, and looked up at him. “let me fix it…”

your whimpering had his eye twitching, lip curling, arms flexing. it was a gut reaction to how soft your voice had become, how eager he knew you were.

his hold on you loosened, and you took this as your opportunity to spin around and drop to your knees in front of him. you couldn’t help but gape at his thundering cock beneath his shorts, salivating at just the thought of him filling your mouth.

but he said nothing else, stunned in his place; how could he not be when you regarded him with ardor, quivering hands?

“please…” you said, your cheek coming to nuzzle against his thigh, one hand gripping the back of his calf. he couldn’t reject you like this. not when he wanted you so dearly.

a hand came to run through your hair atop your head. an nonverbal, encouraging pet. you hummed, making quick work of lowering his shorts, his briefs, and his cock sprung free with vitality. it was red hot, pulsating with blood, beating a bright scarlet for you. it glistened with his own slick for you.

“go on, love,” he was breathless. “you can take it, can’t you?”

you nodded furiously, a whine leaving your lips. with your determined fingers, you wrapped them around his base, pumping your hand back and forth. it didn’t take much before he was leaking over your palm, and you let your lips swirl around his tip.

his head fell back in pleasure, fingers tightening his grip in your hair. with his empty hand, he gripped the island to support his weight from toppling upon you.

he was both sweet and salty, a sensation you’ve never tasted before. you continued your relentless pursuit on his tip until he was wrought with desperation, and let his hips buck forward until he was half way down your throat.

you groaned in protest, your eyes watering with tears, but took him like the good girl you were. he wanted you, and you wanted him. you could ask for nothing more.

“just like that, baby–” he stuttered out, voice cracking when you took him whole down your throat. you breathed through your nose. “fuck,” he cursed, your lips puckering, even stimulating him with the top ridges of your teeth. he let out a deep moan.

“perfect,” he commented, but you thought you misheard him for a moment. “you’re perfect.”

it persuaded you further–not like much was needed– and sped up your pace. faster and faster you went, guzzling him perfectly. with your other hand that gripped his calf, calm to knead at his balls. that was the moment he faltered, unable to withstand your feverish tongue. he had to bite back his own groans of pleasure.

“where?” he demanded of you. you paused, but didn’t take long for your answer. he was holding himself back as much he could, his hips bucking down the hot cavern of your throat, but you didn’t relent. my mouth, your actions screamed, and he didn’t think twice.

before you knew it your mouth was loaded with his cum, hot rods of delectable nectar from him. you were pleased, more than satisfied, that you made him cum in just a matter of minutes.

he pulled himself out of you, letting you breathe. you swallowed, not finding him distasteful, and even showed him your bare tongue. he was panting, attempting his best to catch his breath, but managed a coarse chuckle.

you gave his flaccid cock a singular kiss before you rose to your feet, bringing his shorts and briefs up with you. he adjusted himself before launching his lips on your own. the remnants of him were prominent on your tastebuds as he swirled his tongue into your mouth. you allowed his strength, making a sound from your throat.

“taste like me,” he commented against your lips. you beam.

“must’ve been good, then?” you knew it was. but you wanted to hear it from him.

he snickered. “guess so.”

you slapped his chest before breaking your kiss. you glanced up at him one more time before placing a kiss on his cheek, escaping his grasp. he held onto your hand, though, wondering just where you were going. not when he didn’t have you cumming on his tongue.

“it’s past my bedtime,” you remarked, raising your brows. his own scrunched. “what?”

“let me–”

you shushed him.

“on the house.”

you were gone before he could respond, skipping up the steps, ready to set your plan in motion. he didn’t know what was coming, not yet, but he surely would once you closed the door to your room, and stripped of your clothes.

you left him there pondering. he was entirely at a loss— you skirting away with ease, high tail with that lacey material– and vanished without another word. it had lando breathing heavily, hands running through his hair. shit, he thought, this was bad.

in the bathroom of your suite, you twisted the shower on. whilst waiting for it to heat up, you turned your attention towards the open shaft windows that you could prop open. your room is next to mine, lando’s words rang through your head. okay, you thought, game on, right?

you made sure the windows were open at a respectable distance, praying that his own would be too. he liked the cool breeze from the night, pray tell from his times of sleeping in max’s room in your childhood home.

glancing at yourself in the mirror once, you were betting on this to work. to truly grab his attention, whilst also awarding yourself a release you’d been craving since his fingertips caressed your knee.

into the shower you went, tilting your head back and letting the waterfall drench your scalp. it was relaxing, more than you anticipated, and your mind was able to wander to other things. like his hands. his toned, muscular arms. his neck, built intensely with strength that you’ve never seen before. in certain lights, especially beneath the italian sun, it bulged outward. you wondered what it’d feel like between your thighs. your fingers wandered along your soaked skin, breasts reacting to your touch, taut beneath your palms.

lando had just shut the door to his room, shaking off the sweat that dribbled down his forehead. and his windows were open— the curtains swaying back and forth— and he heard your call.

at first, the british driver thought that he was hallucinating. that he was hearing things from losing it. but there was no denying that it was your sweet siren serenading through the air, wafting against the mediterranean winds.

a moan had been pulled from you by your own hand. your head flat against the tiles of the shower wall, you twisted until your cheek was firm against the siding. one hand came to rest on the base of your throat, gripping for comfort, while the other trailed downward to your navel, priming at your folds.

you were swollen hot, but never to the same degree you were on his lap just the previous night.

it was enough, though, for you to rub against your clit the way you knew your body best. a delicious combination of whimpers and moans trembling through the air.

lando was brought to his fantasies, unbelieving that they were coming alive before him. he leaned against the windows from his room, hand clenching tight around the ledge, and listened to your whining calls, urging him, tempting him, to knock down your fucking door and fuck you like you wanted him.

a finger slid easily inside of you. with both stimulation to your clit and your sensitive nerves inside of you, it was heaven. the hot water combined with your punitive thoughts, tracing back to lando, aroused you to a degree unfathomable to any pleasure you’ve ever felt. besides his fingers, that is.

lando couldn’t resist. his own cock was blistering with heat, again, in just the span of ten minutes. you had just been on his knees for him. now, here you were, a siren within the night, taking him under your bewitching.

and spellcasted he was.

with his dick in his hands, he was dripping. your sounds became louder, prominent, for his open window. and he absorbed every droplet you gave him, a man dehydrated of the world’s most sweet nectar. he was greedy, selfish even, and knew then that he had to be yours. he didn’t give a fuck what max said, thought, cared about this moment. it would belong to him and him alone— your saccharine temper.

he could imagine you there, thinking about just how desperate he was. how you knew what you were doing to him. how he unfolded before your voice.

you were.

you thought of his face. how it contorted with pleasure while you sucked him off. you’d remember the sounds he made— whimpers of desperate, wicked nature— that had you curling your finger inside of you, even becoming so bold as to add a second. it should be criminal to think of your brother’s best friend this way, but that thought came and went just as the tides changed.

lando fisted his cock with the thought of you wrapped around him. hand draped across the ledge of the windowsill, he writhed and seethed from his own daring thoughts of you. your skirt, your pretty eyes, your wondrous nature. he was awed by you, but wanted to damn you to ruin with his touch. it pursued him further, and he knew he wasn’t going to last long.

surely he wouldn’t, not when he heard his name carry through the air. his name rolling off your tongue. his name in the form of a whimper.

“lando,” you breathed, loud enough to surpass the stream of the water. and your stomach coiled, reaching an orgasm before you could count to three.

lando had, too, spurring loads of his come into his empty hand. it wasn’t an elegant movement— rather messy and untamed— but that’s how it was when it came to you, wasn’t it? nothing was going to be easy about this relationship he conjured up in his head, but for you, though it’d be worthwhile.

you went to bed that night with a sleep full of your wildest, fanatical dreams that included lando. whereas he tossed and turned, unable to believe that the girl he knew in his childhood had him wrought with lust.

the morning that followed was a quiet one. you and the rest of the vacation group of boys were headed out to one of italy’s finest beaches, chartered there by a small boat. you had opted for one of your best bathing suits and cover up pieces, looking outright chic.

when you arrived at the beach, you stuck closely to max’s side. the entire ride, lando had been stealing glances from you, shifting awkwardly in his seat. you had your answer from your plan the previous night. he heard you.

good, you thought, crossing your legs over one another. serves him right.

you’d lay out your towel on the white sand. your brother joined you, laying down a few feet from you along with some of his buddies. lando kept his distance, knowing too fucking well that’d he’d pull some feral shit in front of you and your brother.

some of the others opted for surfing. with their boards ready from the rental shack, they were catching waves with ease. you watched from your upright position, lathering yourself in spf.

“what’dya think of chris?” your brother asked you. you turned your head, wondering what he was implying. chris was one of his good-natured, all classic, sweet boy friends. you’d known him for a good majority of your life, but never…really thought of him.

“he’s a good guy.”

lando was sitting up now. listening.

“well,” max shrugged, taking your nonchalant answer with grace. “asked me if it was okay to give him your number. think he fancies you.”

your expression dropped. chris fancied you? in what universe could he, when he couldn’t even manage a conversation with you. you weren’t even sure he could ever muster the courage to look you in the eye, for that matter.

“and…what did you say?”

max looked at you with his sunglasses on. you saw your reflection in them.

“think it’s fine. ‘e’s a good lad. nice. well-mannered.” he emphasized his last point. was that a jab at your previous boyfriends? “besides…i wanna see you happy.”

it was touching, truly, that your brother cared for you on such a protective level, but you didn’t need him meddling with your romantic life. not when the man who consumed your sexual thoughts sat a few bodies next to you.

your eyes drifted to find lando’s. he was already glaring, sending sharp daggers your direction. he heard it all, and was about to combust with jealousy. you could see it. you’d use it.

“maybe.” you brushed it off, but found chris in the waters. he was just coming out from the sea, and you thought this was your perfect opportunity.

you jumped to your feet, sunglasses on, and tore your cover up from your body. you didn’t look back to know what lando’s expression was— worshiping.

chris’ head popped up when he saw you approaching him. he shifted a bit, as if he were preening his feathers.

“catch any good ones?” you asked, your feet touching the water. chris cleared his throat.

“some,” he gestured to the large waves. “current is strong today.”

you edged further into the water until your knees were covered.

“you looked good out there, at least i think so.” you managed a smile, not entirely opposed to his company. your brother had been right. he is a nice lad. you should at least build a friendship with him, shouldn’t you?

“really?” he was shocked. “you were watching?”

you nodded with a hum, and continued further out into the blue waters. chris took this as an invitation and dropped his board high up on the sand and followed you in. he wasn’t as built as lando was, but you shouldn’t even be making the comparisons.

you stopped when the water was just beneath your breasts. water seeped in through your top, and you noticed that chris’ eyes caught on the fabric. typical.

“what do you do for work, then? are you a student?” you managed a brief conversation with him. chris met you at your side.

“business student in scotland,” he confirmed, but he wasn’t all cocky about it. you thought that he’d boast, but he didn’t. “yourself?”

you told him your plans. he was impressed that you’d accomplished so much at your age.

and your conversation with him went on, but not without the darkness of lando’s envy over your shoulder. you’d taken a few glances over chris’ shoulder to see his reddened expression, watching the pair of you share a few laughs.

he wanted this day to be fucking over. he wanted you in his bed. and he would have it one way or another— whatever it takes.

arriving back to the villa that evening, your brother and his friends wanted to go out clubbing. it was around 8pm and the sun was beginning to set, though you didn’t feel like a night out. the sun had gotten to you, and you were rather tired.

“you’re sure you don’t wanna go?” max asked you in the foyer, waiting for the rest of his band to go along.

“i’m sure. besides, i could use a night in.” your brother respected your choice and didn’t push you further. before he left with his friends, he did turn and leave you with one comment.

“lando’s here, too, in case you need anything.”

and then he was gone, tailending with chris flashing you a smile.

shit.

shit, shit, shit. you knew you were in for it now. there was no way that you’d escape lando for the evening, unsure how he caught notice that you’d be staying in for the night.

when the door shut and the house was empty, you raced up to your room. you’d worn a floor length slip dress when you’d gotten home, but wanted to change and lock yourself in for the rest of the night. but your situation changed drastically when you reached the first step, and saw lando leaning against the staircase from the top.

“just you and me, yeah?”

you gulped, taking a few steps back. he looked furious yet unbothered at the same time.

“what to do, what to do…” he began to saunter down the steps when you moved back. “in this big, empty house…?”

he trailed after you all the way until you were on the balcony. he slipped out from the sliding door, watching as you were frantically nervous in his presence. you had no idea what he was thinking, watching you all day flirt with chris.

your back was against the stone balustrade, hands spread wide to support yourself. your heart was racing, but you wouldn’t let him see that. wouldn’t show him the effect he had.

lando wore a black ln4 shirt from his collection, along with tan sweatpants. it was an understatement to say he didn’t look fucking good.

he donned a cocky smirk as he closed the distance between the two of you, leaning into your space. you felt his breath on your cheek.

“he’s a good lad, innhe?”

you met his eye— his blue, green eyes that were swarmed with a darkness you didn’t believe him capable of.

“he’s nice.” you said, referring to chris. because he was. he was respectful.

“‘he’s nice.’” lando mocked, scoffing. he turned his head to the side to look over your shoulder to the coastline that surrounded the villa.

“yes, he’s nice.” you bit back, brows furrowing. “more than i can say for you.”

lando’s expression froze, tongue poking at the inside of his cheek. his jaw tightened as he processed your words, foot tapping against the stone.

“yeah? you don’t think i’m good to you?”

whatever this was…you loved it. you craved him. needed him. there was a zing of electricity that ran down your spine, electrifying your cunt. your thighs tightened together and you shrugged, playing him off the best that you could.

he tsked, tilting your chin to meet his eyes with his index finger. “we’ll see.”

and then his lips were on yours. ravaging. starving. he was a man that has been deprived of you for far too long— twenty four hours— without your touch. it was maddening the way he was obsessed with you. how you infested every corner of his mind. you, you, and more you.

you succumbed to his kiss with ease, your tongues battling between one another. he tasted of espresso, whereas you tasted of the apple liquor from the boat.

he won, ultimately, a hand coming to wrap around the back of your neck. your own latched to his shoulders, another going for his hair. you tugged on the strands, eliciting a groan from him that you wished to hear over and over, time and time again. you were sure that you would, not daring to ever let him go. you had him surrounded.

his tongue lathered over yours, dripping saliva down your chin. it was messy, intangibly so, but you’d have him no other way. you wanted him like this, uncontrolled, pining, for your affections. you had him in the place you wanted, and he had more in store for you.

he broke the kiss with a string of saliva connecting the pair of you. your eyes heavy with desire, his own mirroring the same. his kisses traveled to your jaw, your throat— but he sucked feverishly against the skin, surely to leave bruises. you gasped when you felt his teeth puncture through the top layer of your skin. “marks—”

you reminded him, but he didn’t care.

“fuck what they think.”

you melted where you stood. his hand came to wrap around your lower back, angling your hips to brush against his. he was already hard, you could feel it, but you were sure that you were dribbling too.

his relentless pursuit of your neck didn’t end there. when he met the fabric of your dress, he pulled the straps down with ease, your breasts falling free. he ogled at your mounds, saliva dripping from his chin. it was, perhaps, the hottest sight you’ve ever seen. not the waterfalls of france, not the cascades of lake como— but this, right here— lando norris drooling on your chest.

“what would you do with ‘nice’?” he mumbled into your skin, attacking one of your perked nipples with his tongue. you gasped, biting your lip to retain a moan.

“he could treat me well,” you seethed through clenched teeth, gripping the strands of his brunette curls. you felt him vibrate with a hum.

“you’d eat him alive.” he chuckled, switching to your other nipple that was blistering with heat. your entire body radiated like the sun, but did no good beneath the moonlight. “what would he do—” a nip of his teeth against your nipple, you jolted, hips bucking forward with an anxious pension for friction. “with all of this?”

you were at a loss for words, drowning in his sweetness.

“let it go to waste…” lando dropped to his knees with a hand still firm on your back, the other raising the hem of your dress. he tsked, cheek flattening out against your thighs. he separated them with the strength of his neck, looking up at you from the bundled fabric. “a shame.”

you agreed mercilessly, nodding your head with a whimper. it elicited a laugh from him.

with a singular finger he pulled down your panties. the cotton was thin, as if you knew this would happen. they slid down your legs and you kicked them away.

your hand was still threaded at the base of his neck, continuing to tug at his strands. it’s how you told him you needed him, but that wouldn’t be enough. not for lando.

“what do you want?” he asked, looking up at you from his seated position, face wedged between your legs. you gaped at him, breathless and flushed.

“your mouth—” you pant, but before you could finish he licked a long stripe down your folds. “god, fuck—”

“not god,” lando corrected. “just me, baby.”

“lando, lando…!” you whined, back arching for a better angle for him to reach. he responded, humming against your clit, sending throttling vibrations up your navel. he was so fucking good. how? how could a man treat you in such a way?

finding your writhing adorable, he finally let his tongue swipe past your entrance. the sensation was indescribable, but you knew that you needed more. and more he was willing to give, burying his face into your cunt.

your honeyed cunt that he was addicted to. he knew you’d taste like heaven, but this was all the more holy than he could fathom.

with his face buried inside of you, you were sure to see stars. here, beneath the moonlight of the italian villa, you were ethereal. he could steal glances up at you. your contorting face, toiling with passion. passion that he drank from the source, sucking you dry.

his nose applied pressure to your clit— the perfect combination— and you knew that you weren’t going to last long. not with his jean paul scent invaded your senses, his thick hands cupping you so perfectly. one hand kneaded at the flesh of your thigh, the other swirling circles on your lower back. it was perfect. he’s perfect.

“please, please,” you didn’t know what you were begging for.

lando hummed, feeling your cunt clench around his tongue. he curled inside of you, teetering you upon your edge, and you were just about to let loose when he pulled his head away, leaving you trembling.

he stood with ease, as if he wasn’t just devouring you, and you reached out for his hand. you were about to reach the peak of a mind blowing orgasm, but he denied you. with your hand wrapped around his, he knew how this would end. his lips came to your ear.

“you were right,” he huffed. you felt his retentive anger. “don’t know if i’m nice.”

he tugged you along through the house, hand upon your back steading your shaking stance. too impatient to help you up the steps, he swooped you into his arms bridal style. you gasped with a giggle, reflexive from his actions, and he burst open the door to his room with his shoulder.

he dropped you onto his bed, ripping off his shirt in the process you propped yourself up on your elbows, gaping clearly at his tanned, toned skin. he smirked down at you, coming to hover above, and stripped the dress clean from your body. before him, you were bare, naked, more exposed than you've ever been with your brother’s best friend.

you went to cover your chest, clamp your thighs shut, but lando refused. he trapped your wrists above your head, knee coming to separate your legs. you wiggled your hips hopelessly for friction, still wading heavy on your lost orgasm, but he didn’t let you graze his thigh.

“you’re being mean,” you whined, attempting to twist out of his hold. but you didn’t prevail.

lando’s lips met yours with a kiss of depravity. he pulled away, but you chased him, your head leveraging from the bed.

“am i?”

one hand left the hold on your wrists to touch your cunt. you were dripping down your thighs. he brought his fingers to his lips, wiping them clean.

“think you like it, love.”

you hissed when he took his hand from you, but relaxed when he kneaded one of your breasts. he was in utter reverence of your body, your beauty. you eclipsed all things that shined bright in his life, you becoming the epicenter.

his pants were off in the next second, thrown to the corner of his room. his briefs, too, and his cock danced freely from its entrapment. your mouth watered.

“this what you need?” his tip teased your entrance. your eyes rolled back into your head with a frenzied nod. “yeah? think you can take it?”

“yes, yes! i can, i can, please lando…” your hand latched around the back of his neck, the other to his shoulder.

it didn’t take him much convincing to surge forward, agonizingly slow, until he has inside of you. you choked on your breath, the air ripped right from you lungs with how he stretched you. it was alike no pleasure you’ve felt— his fingers, his tongue, all works of mastery— but you feared that nothing could compare to this. not when his hand around your breasts drop to your cunt, rubbing voracious circles against your clit.

he let you adjust, waiting until you shook your hips from side to side, and bottomed out. it was surreal how you ended up here. but you wouldn’t go back. not for a second. not when his dick inside of you ripped through you with such passion, such love, you were inclined to imagine.

lando’s own breaths were wild. erratic. he had to halt himself from slamming inside of you, your tightening, wet walls gleaning him of any morals he had come into this villa with.

“move,” you urged him, breaking him free of this torment. his eyes flared wide. “need you to move.”

need

such an all encompassing word that would drive him mad.

he listened to you without hesitation. his hips slapping in and out of you with a heavy, dangerous pace, he never wanted this moment to end. it would feel like this every time he fucked you— the first, starstruck time— and that would be enough for him to lay to rest in an early grave.

both of you were a mess of moans, sounds of skin on skin echoing through his bedroom. the moonlight casted a white haze upon the pair of you, your eyes shimmering in the reflection. he was lost in it, in you, how seraphic you’d become in just the few days he’d been around you. how undone he became. he was a lost cause the minute you made a jest to him at the dinner table.

his chest lowered to yours for a better, sweeter, angle and it had you screaming. your nails cut through his back, leaving reddened scratches against his tanned, freckled skin. he loved it. it had his pace quickening, and his hand working harder at your clit. you were close, he could feel it.

feeling the way you began to tighten around him, how you became barely lucid beneath him. “so good,” you mewled, finding no other words but to praise him.

“nothing compares,” he groaned, his head falling into the crook of your neck. “you’ll be mine then, yeah?”

your heart surged in your chest, but your breathing remained the same. you were too fucked out to truly resonate the meaning behind his words.

“yours, yours,” you repeated over and over until you were sent over the edge. you screamed his name, cutting through the air, cutting through him. he was left a sopping mess with his quivering hips, sloppy pace. you knew he was going to cum, too, when his teeth grinded together, and he let out a guttural moan. it churned your insides, swishing your heart through.

he came inside of you. you felt it, the heat from his cock. but he made no effort to move. you didn’t want him to.

the pair of you laid atop one another in his dark room. panting. catching your breaths. in unison your hearts would align. sweaty bodies melting against each other.

his head was buried deep into your neck, breathing you in. you soothed him, just as much as you riled him to no end.

“did you mean it?” you asked, voice hoarse.

lando hummed.

“about us.”

you felt his teeth break into a smile against your skin. he raised his head to look at you. “i did.” your breath caught in your throat. “don’t give a shit what max’ll say. we’ll figure it out, won’t we?”

you nodded in agreement. your brother would simply have to deal with this. he’d get over it in time, you’re sure, and it would be the best for both of you. no longer would you yearn at a distance for a man you thought didn’t spare you a second glance. no longer would you dream of this moment materializing before you. it had become a reality, and there was nothing more that you could be grateful for.

he wanted you. lando wanted you. and you wanted him the same. it was one of the first times in your life that you felt safe. comforted in a newborn relationship.

it wasn’t long before lando pulled the covers of his sheets over the two of you, holding you tight as you shifted into the shape of his body. you were a perfect fit, a missing puzzle piece that he’s been searching years for.

and now you were here, sleeping soundly in his arms.

lando had found sleep, too, his soft snores carrying through the room. you and him paid no attention to the fact you were sharing a bed. if anyone walked in, then they walked in. you were at peace, and that was enough.

sooner rather than later, the party-goers for the evening arrived home. they attempted their best to be quiet at such an odd hour, and decided to retire. max and chris went out to the balcony, however, and decided for a small chat.

but before that could even commence, chris noticed a piece of black fabric loose on the patio. he stared at it from above, brows raised.

“mate,” he called max over. he met him at his side.

“this yours?” he pointed down at it, and his face went ghastly white. no fucking way.

“motherfucker.”

tags ; @landoslutmeout @basicallyric @mybluesoul1 @toriiez @customsbyjcg-blog @sofs16@strengthandstay@mybluesoul1@f1fantasys@cmleitora @idgasb @amalialeclerc @laneyspaulding19 @staurdvst @oreosareara @sideboobrry11 @mortallyblueninja @fionamiller123 @2pagenumb @marvelfangirl04 @brune77e @allabouthappiness @tellybearryyyy @ringdingdingdingx @tillyt04 @danywonderland @rosebud224 @simpfortoomanymen @nataliambc @forcesensitivesoulmate @sweate-r-weathe-r @norlestappen @madszoca @milkandcookhot @fionamiller123 @16f1lc @jwiltsz @plotpal @inevesgf @theonottsbxtch

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hyuckiefluff · 1 month ago

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The Wicked Game of Love| Lee Haechan

pairing: slytherin! haechan x ravenclaw! fem.reader genre: rivals to lovers, smut, angst wc: 21k+ (full fic) content warning: explicit content, unprotected sex, public sex, oral (fem. receiving), rough sex (hair-pulling, light spanking), marking (hickeys, bruises), forced proximity, toxic family dynamics, blood status discrimination, mean haechan, usage of wizard ver. of a slur, canon divergence (post-hogwarts /ministry setting), their relationship gives whiplash i apologize in advance, emotional hurt/comfort. summary: Lee Haechan was a pure-blood heir raised to hate everything you are. You, a half-blood girl who knew better than to let your guard down around someone like him. You were never supposed to want each other—until one disastrous kiss shatters everything you’ve worked to protect. a/n: AT LAST it is here!! my blood, sweat, and tears went into this u guys. i hope it was worth the wait. also i somehow ended up with a very dramione-coded fic (yes, this is me coming out as a dramione enjoyer). it’s so long i had to split it into two parts because apparently i don’t know when to stop. part two should be up right after this one (unless i passed out from exhaustion). pls enjoy and scream at me about it in the comments <3 ps: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY BABYGIRL HAECHAN!!! ILYSM!!!

READ PART 2 HERE

“I hate and I love. Perhaps you ask why I do so? I do not know, but I feel it, and I am tormented.” — Catullus, poem 85

What you and Lee Haechan had could only be described as pure, unadulterated rivalry. Or it started that way, at least.

Your mother and his father had been political opponents for as long as you could remember—two towering figures in the wizarding world, constantly at odds in public and behind closed doors. While your mother built her career on progressive reform and transparency, his father operated in shadows, pulling strings and building alliances that made him one of the most quietly feared men in wizard politics. When your mother was named Minister of Magic, it was only by a thin margin, one that turned their rivalry into something closer to open war.

Because of your parents’ standing, and their closely intertwined conflict, you were often forced to share space. Too much of it. Not just at Hogwarts, but everywhere. Ministry galas, private events, summer functions.

Haechan was like a buzzing fly in your ear, a little gremlin who made it his life’s mission to drive you up the wall. You didn’t like him. You didn’t like his voice, or his slouchy posture, or the way he looked at you with those half-lidded eyes. You didn’t like the stupid pattern of moles on his face or the way he always knew exactly which button to press.

Everyone who knew you, knew you couldn’t stand him. If anything, the daily verbal sparring made it pretty damn clear. But what no one could’ve ever predicted was how quickly this would change.

A change that started when your mother was officially sworn in as Minister.

The announcement made headlines across every wizarding publication, and for a brief moment, your name was something people said with admiration. Students congratulated you in the corridors, professors gave you subtle nods of approval, and even the portraits seemed more polite than usual.

Your mother had been a respected Ministry official long before taking office, a well-known pureblood figure who shocked everyone by marrying a Muggle-born wizard, a choice that set tongues wagging long before you were born. Eventually, your father cracked under the pressure of a world he never fully belonged in, leaving your mother in favor of a simpler life with a Muggle woman.

Because your mother was so busy with her political career, you grew up with your father in the Muggle world, isolated from magic entirely until the age of ten, when strange incidents like your hair changing colors overnight, glass shattering during arguments started happening and forced your mother to intervene.

She brought you into a world you didn’t know then. Hogwarts became your fresh start, your chance to prove you belonged in the magical world despite whispers about your blood status, your father’s scandalous departure, and your upbringing.

Which was exactly why, when you walked into the Great Hall a few days after your mother was sworn in and saw the headline The Daily Prophet had run, it hit so viciously.

“Merlin’s beard, Y/N. Have you seen this?”

Hannah Parkinson’s voice stopped you on your way to the Ravenclaw table. She unfolded her copy with a dramatic flair and shoved it into your face. Your stomach dropped as you read the words.

“THE MINISTER’S HALF-BLOOD HEIRESS: RAISED BY MUGGLES, GROOMED FOR POWER?”

Under the headline was a moving photo of you walking through a Muggle market wearing jeans, scuffed trainers, and a second-hand T-shirt. You hadn’t even noticed the photographer.

Rita Skeeter’s quill did its best to flay you alive.

“Young Miss Y/L/N may carry a famous surname, but does she carry the polish befitting the office? Sources say the new heiress spent most of her childhood in a Muggle household, blissfully ignorant of wizarding custom until age ten—hardly the upbringing our world expects from a Minister’s child.

Classmates describe her as ‘aggressive on a broom, and foul-mouthed in the hallways’. One wonders whether this half-blood Seeker has the temperament to represent us on the international stage.”

And it continued into the next page, because Skeeter never knew when to stop.

“Her fashion sense appears equally questionable as she’s seen in the picture wearing Muggle denim and a shirt bearing a ‘Misfits’ logo (whatever that means). One hopes Madam Malkin can work miracles.”

The tears welled in your eyes before you could blink them back. Skeeter had somehow managed to hit all of your insecurities with one article—your parents separation, the years spent as the weird kid, the endless fight to prove you belonged in the wizarding world—and splashed them across the breakfast tables of the entire wizarding world.

“Aww, is the Minister’s little charity case going to cry?” Hannah cooed mockingly.

Before you could even find the words or grab your wand to shut her up, there was a loud crack behind you. The paper in her hands tore clean in half, as if slashed by an invisible blade. Hannah stumbled back in shock.

Next thing you knew, Lee Haechan was walking past you, his wand still glowing faintly. Dark hair fell in soft waves over his eyes, his uniform tie was crooked as always, his expression flat with boredom.

“Parkinson,” he drawls “I’d ask if the Prophet’s paying you for distribution, but just like your father you clearly enjoy handing out trash for free.”

A collective ooh rippled across the Hall. Hannah’s face turned an impressively blotchy shade of red before she turned around and stalked off, tripping over the hem of her robes.

Haechan turned then, catching your eye before his gaze dipped to your jeans and the battered trainers peeking out beneath your open robes.

“And you.” His mouth curved into a half-snarl. “If you insist on dressing like a stray Muggle, don’t act shocked when the rats sniff you out.”

You flinched at his words, feeling even more self-conscious than when Hannah was insulting you.

He nudged the ruined paper with his shoe, his voice low so only you’d hear it. “Never bleed where they can smell it.” Then, louder in a mocking tone “Try to keep up, you’re the Minister’s pet now.”

He turned on his heels and strolled back to the Slytherin table, his friends thumping him in the back in glee.

You stood frozen, not knowing how to react. He humiliated you, which wasn’t a new thing in your relationship. But this time, it felt as if he’d thrown the punch so no one else could.

After that day, Haechan was still a nuisance to you. Still the boy whose father would do anything to see your mother fail. But now his teasing felt different. It wasn’t sharp the way it used to be. His taunts started landing just shy of cruelty, aimed to sting you into strength instead of out of it. No one noticed the difference except you.

Bit by bit, you found yourself almost looking forward to it. Not that you’d ever admit that out loud.

In the days following the article, you did your best to become invisible—but Hogwarts was not a place that allowed anonymity when your name was constantly on the front page of newspapers. Rita Skeeter’s words spread fast, and soon every corridor was filled with whispers about your family. The attention made you retreat into solitude, often spending your free periods hiding among the furthest library stacks.

One afternoon, as you sat hunched over your Charms textbook, the chair across from you scraped loudly against the stone floor. You looked up, startled and already annoyed.

"Did you lose your way?" you asked coldly, glaring at Haechan as he settled carelessly into the chair opposite.

"Unfortunately not.” He replied with a yawn, dropping his textbooks onto the table with a thud that made you flinch.

"What do you want, Haechan?”

He raised a brow. “Wow, no ‘hello’? No ‘thank you for publicly humiliating a pureblood princess on my behalf’?”

"Right, I almost forgot chivalry’s alive and well in Slytherin.” you said, sarcasm dripping from every word.

"Only when it comes with entertainment value." He leaned back, arms behind his head. "And you're a surprisingly decent show these days."

"Glad I could provide," you muttered. “Did you come here just to annoy me?”

"Nah, I just figured you were desperate enough to tolerate my presence," he retorted, flashing a shit eating grin. "Since your fellow Ravenclaws aren't exactly lining up to spend time with you these days."

You narrowed your eyes. "If you're looking to have a laugh, go bother someone else."

"Believe me, watching you sulk around like a kicked puppy isn’t that fun anymore."

"Then leave," you hissed.

“Can't. I need your notes."

You scoffed loudly. "You're delusional if you think I'd help you."

"Am I?" he tilted his head thoughtfully. “Cause you still haven’t hexed me, which means you're at least considering it."

Your wand hand twitched under the table, and he noticed immediately, mouth quirking upward in amusement. The two of you were used to swapping harmless hexes for years. Silly stuff like changing each other’s hair color, gluing quills to fingers, turning the other’s pumpkin juice to green sludge during breakfast. Nothing scarring, but enough for you to flinch when the other’s temper flared. Haechan’s smirk said he remembered every jinx.

The nature of your relationship is exactly why you weren’t used to having him on your side all of a sudden, and you couldn’t be judged for holding him at a safe distance when you had no idea what his intentions were.

Especially now that his father was capable of doing anything to ruin you and your mother’s reputation with the purpose of hindering her future reelection. Not to mention, you hated feeling like you owed him anything.

"You didn't have to interfere the other day," you muttered bitterly, unable to meet his gaze. "I could’ve handled Hannah myself."

He didn't respond at first. The quiet stretched long enough that you glanced up just in time to catch a strange expression crossing his features. He masked it quickly with indifference.

"Parkinson annoys me," he shrugged.

"Since when?" you raised a skeptical eyebrow.

He leaned forward, voice dropping into a velvety murmur. "Since she started messing with what's mine."

"Excuse me?" you stammered.

"Mine to torment, I mean," he corrected, rolling his eyes. "Merlin, don't get ahead of yourself."

"I wasn't," you snapped, embarrassment twisting sharply in your stomach.

"I know." His smirk returned. "Your pride wouldn't allow it."

You huffed, returning your gaze to your textbook, pretending to read despite the words blurring uselessly in front of you.

He flipped open his own book, pretending to skim through pages in bored silence. After about twenty minutes of silent “studying”, he stood up without looking at you.

"I’ll come back tomorrow for those notes.

You hesitated, feeling the inexplicable urge to humor him, despite every reason not to. "Fine. Whatever."

"And stop hiding in the library every day. It's depressing."

"Fuck off," you shot back sharply.

His answering laugh echoed as he walked away and you sat there for the next few minutes trying to summon any sense of concentration to no avail.

A week later you were back in the library, this time sequestered at a corner table piled with parchment and potion vials. Professor Slughorn had paired the two of you for an extra-credit antidote project—“my favorite students working together!” he’d said with a wink—and neither of you had managed to wriggle out of it.

Haechan wasn’t really doing any work, he just kept twirling his quill and splattering ink blots across your carefully labeled ingredient chart.

“Could you not?” you snapped, blotting at the stains.

“Relax,” he said, slouching until his knees bumped yours under the table. “Don’t you know that chaos is the mother of invention?”

“That mentality is how you melted the cauldron earlier in class”

He grinned. “That was funny, though.”

You rolled your eyes and bent back over your parchment, quill scratching furiously across the page. You could feel him watching you, but you refused to look up.

The quiet of the library was broken by a burst of loud whispers from a nearby table.

“…I bet he only keeps the half-blood around because he feels bad for her—”

“—heard they sneak off after curfew. Wonder what she’s giving him in return…”

You didn’t even need to guess who they were talking about. It was obvious what people thought when they saw you with the Slytherin golden boy, the heir of one of the most ancient pureblood families. They probably thought you were his charity case as well. That you were stupid enough to want him around after all he said to you.

Your pulse pounded too hard in your ears to hear Haechan’s chair scraping back. A second later, the gossipers’ table went silent, punctuated only by the unmistakable snap of someone’s quill being broken in half.

He walked back to your table and dropped into his seat, jaw tight. “Idiots.”

You shoved your notes into a messy stack. “I’m done for tonight.”

“Y/N—” he reached across the table, but you were already on your feet.

You didn’t stop until you reached an unused classroom three corridors away. It was cold and dusty, with cobwebs in the corners and desks scattered around.

The ghost of a bride hovered near the corner, sobbing quietly into her translucent veil. You ignored her as you braced both hands on the windowsill, trying to steady your breathing, willing the sting behind your eyes to fade.

After a few minutes, the ghost floated silently through the wall, giving you a mournful look—as if accepting that you had more reason to cry tonight.

The door clicked open after a few seconds.

“Thought I told you I was done,” you said without turning.

“And since when do I listen?” Haechan closed the door behind him.

You didn’t reply, only sound that could be heard was your quiet sniffles and his slow steps getting near.

“They’re not worth it.” His voice was careful. “A new article will come out tomorrow and everyone will move on. You know people need a new chew toy every week.”

You huffed a shaky laugh. “Easy for you to say. Your family’s never been headline fodder.”

“Sure we have. Just with less sensational adjectives.” He stepped closer until your shoulders brushed lightly. “Besides, if they’re going to talk, we might as well give them something good to gossip about.”

You glanced up at him, puzzled. “Like what?”

Haechan hesitated for a quick second, before his mouth quirked into that half-smile you recognized as the one he gave before saying something ridiculous. “We could pretend to date.”

A surprised laugh burst out of you, louder than you’d intended. “Fake dating? Seriously?”

“Why not?” His expression was deceptively casual, but his eyes stayed serious on yours. “It’s the quickest way to control the narrative. People eat that shit up.”

You shook your head, smiling, expecting him to crack up and admit he was joking any second now. But his expression didn't waver, and you faltered slightly.

“You’re not serious.”

His gaze didn’t shift. “What if I am?”

You stared at him, waiting for the joke, the laughter—but it didn’t come. Still, the idea was too absurd. Fake dating Lee Haechan? Impossible.

You shook your head again, forcing another laugh as you quickly dismissed the notion. “Nice try, Lee. But I think I’ll stick to something easier to manage like maybe getting top marks in our Potions assignment?”

He chuckled, finally relenting. “Suit yourself.”

Another tear escaped as you laughed softly, embarrassed. You swiped at your cheek. “God, I hate crying.”

“Yeah, you’re an ugly crier.” He nudged your shoulder gently

You rolled your eyes, shoving his arm, but he caught your hand mid-motion. His thumb brushed lightly over your knuckles, making your breath catch. For a moment you both stood there quietly, until finally, you let out a slow exhale and allowed your head to rest carefully against his shoulder.

He stiffened for barely a second, then relaxed, leaning gently into your weight.

Neither of you spoke again until the clock tower chimed curfew. Reluctantly, you straightened, feeling calmer but oddly reluctant to move away from him.

“We should finish that antidote tomorrow,” you murmured.

He nodded, eyes searching your face as if confirming you really were okay. “All right.”

When he left, his suggestion lingered in your thoughts, stuck there like an itch you couldn’t scratch.

Fake dating Lee Haechan. You snorted softly to yourself, shaking your head as you walked back to the common room. The idea was not only ridiculousbut completely impossible.

Yet your brain, traitorous as always, circled back stubbornly to it. The thought of Haechan holding your hand in the corridors, leaning closer at dinner, brushing a casual kiss to your forehead in front of everyone...

Heat rose sharply in your cheeks.

Ridiculous, yes… but not completely unappealing, if you were honest. He was handsome and smart, plus he wasn’t as irritating as you originally thought.

You shook your head again firmly, as if to physically dislodge the thought. No. You couldn’t afford to indulge this. It was crazy. Dangerous, even.

But as you walked up to the Gold Eagle Knocker at the entrance of the Ravenclaw common room and answered the riddle, you couldn’t deny the way your heart sped up at the thought of everyone believing you belonged to each other.

You spent more and more days studying with Haechan after that. Or rather, you studying while he studied you. It was a comfortable escape from judgmental whispers and the scrutiny of everyone else’s eyes. Somehow, he’d become your calm in the midst of chaos.

To your surprise, Haechan was actually a good listener, offering better advice than anyone else you'd ever met. It was unexpected for someone who seemed born to antagonize, but behind his cutting remarks was someone who noticed more than he let on.

He was even helping you improve your flying form, despite technically being your biggest rival since both of you played Seeker. But he’d started noticing small flaws in your technique, quietly pointing them out during your private drills. You only learned to fly at eleven, which made you less experienced compared to Haechan who’d practically grown up on a broom.

“You’re still dropping your shoulder every time you dive for the Snitch,” he called over one afternoon, a playful grin on his face as you landed and sat on the grass.

“I do not,” you shot back, brushing hair from your sweaty forehead.

“Yes, you do.” He snorted lightly, tossing himself onto the grass beside you. “It’s why I keep beating you in dives.”

“Whatever.” You sighed, picking at blades of grass. Admitting your weakness felt uncomfortable, but the words slipped out anyway. “It’s just...dives still freak me out a bit.”

His teasing expression softened immediately. Quietly, he stood and held out a hand. “Come on, I’ll show you how to fix it.”

You hesitated only a second before taking his hand. The warmth of his fingers sent a small flutter through your chest.

“Mount your broom,” he instructed gently, letting go once you were steady. “But don’t kick off yet.”

You did as told, gripping the handle tight enough to hide the slight tremble in your fingers. He moved behind you, his presence too close. You felt your breath catch sharply when one of his hands gently settled on your lower back, steadying you. His palm felt impossibly warm through your Quidditch robes.

“You’re way too tense,” he murmured, amused. You jumped slightly when his other hand rested firmly on your shoulder. “Relax a bit, yeah?”

“How am I supposed to relax when you’re—”

“Just trust me.”

You tried to turn your head but he gently redirected your chin with his fingertips, guiding your gaze straight ahead.

“Eyes forward. If you were flying, you'd have crashed already.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks, not from embarrassment, but from the soft rasp of his voice near your ear and the firm grip of his hands. You swallowed thickly. “It’s hard to concentrate with you right there.”

“I’m just correcting your form,” his fingers moved softly along your spine, and every nerve in your body seemed to spark under his touch.

His grip tightened slightly on your shoulder, pressing it into a more relaxed position. “Keep it down like this. Shift your weight forward without leaning into your broom too hard.” His breath was warm in your ear. “Trust your broom, and trust yourself. And stop tensing every muscle just because you’re afraid you’ll fall.”

“Easy for you to say,” you mumbled, frowning. “You were born with a broom attached to your hand.”

“Just try the dive.” he chuckled.

You hovered mid-air and bent forward, shoulders steady this time as the broom descended. The dive went smoother and your stomach didn’t feel like a bottomless pit.

“That…felt better.”

He grinned. “Told you.”

You dismounted, heart still thumping. “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” he said, grabbing his own broom. Then, with a teasing smile, “Just remember who helped you when you finally beat me to the Snitch.”

The following week The Great Hall hummed with the usual breakfast chatter. It had been an awkward morning, people seemed more on edge than usual and you didn’t even know why until commotion started by the Slytherin table.

Haechan’s voice rose sharply with anger, breaking through the murmurs. “Mind your own business, will you?”

Glancing over your shoulder, you saw him glaring down a small cluster of Hufflepuffs who immediately ducked their heads, faces flushed and eyes darting nervously. He snatched a crumpled copy of the Daily Prophet from one boy’s trembling fingers. He looked up and his eyes locked onto yours.

“Enjoying this?” he stalked toward you, paper clenched in one fist.

“What are you talking about?” you asked, defensive under the weight of everyone’s stares.

He threw the Prophet down onto the Ravenclaw table. The headline screamed out in black lettering “MINISTRY SCANDAL—LEE FAMILY FACING INQUIRY OVER ILLEGAL DARK ARTEFACTS”

“You happy now?” Haechan hissed. “Your mother’s finally getting rid of the bad press. Congratulations, Minister’s pet.”

“What… I—We had nothing to do with this!”

“Oh, really?” he sneered bitterly, leaning in closer. “Funny how these stories started coming out right after the articles about you. Maybe Skeeter wasn’t so wrong… hanging around Muggles didn’t teach your family much about fair play.”

A few gasps echoed softly around you. You wanted to scream, to hex him right then and there, but your hands shook too badly under the table to even grip your wand.

You lifted your chin, staring back. “What are you really so upset about? That your father’s finally being exposed, or that people might think you’re just like him?”

His expression faltered enough to let you know your barb had landed. Of anything you could’ve said that was probably the worst for him.

Haechan didn’t just resent his father. He was terrified of becoming him. Every cruel instinct he buried, every smirk that masked something darker, every time he played the game too well—he wondered if he was already halfway there. So hearing it from your mouth, that disgust, that echo of everything he feared he might become? It was too much and it shook something in him loose.

“You’re right,” he said with a cruel laugh. “My father’s not a good man. But at least he never pretended to be. Your mother clawed her way to the top on the back of others and you’re just her dirty little project. Filthy blood dressed in silk. And no matter how high you climb, you’ll always reek of where you came from.”

The air drained from your lungs. It wasn’t just the insult — it was how easy it came to him. As if it had always been there, lurking under his tongue. You stared numbly at the crumpled headline on the table.

He was clearly deflecting. Protecting himself and his family’s name. But you never expected him to use words you’d only ever heard whispered by the worst kind of witches and wizards.

Haechan stormed out of the Great Hall, past the whispers and stares, past the first-years who scrambled aside in fear, past the professors who pretended they didn’t see anything. He didn’t slow down until he reached the abandoned courtyard behind the greenhouses, his breaths coming short and shallow.

He braced a hand against the cold stone wall, his pulse pounding sickeningly in his ears.

“Filthy blood dressed in silk”

The echo of his own voice made bile rise in his throat. He’d said it so easily, so effortlessly cruel, exactly like his father would have.

He could still see the way your expression had shattered. Not in anger—that would have been easier to stomach—but stunned disbelief, pain etched deep into your features, your chin held high even as your eyes welled with tears. He’d torn you open, hit you exactly where he knew it would cut deepest, and he’d done it because he couldn’t face feeling vulnerable himself.

“Fuck,” he whispered harshly, sliding down onto the nearest bench and burying his face in his hands. He felt like a coward. No, he felt worse. He felt exactly like the kind of person he’d sworn he would never become.

He’d watched you go through this already, helped you pick up the pieces, telling you people would forget, that it wouldn’t matter in the end. But he’d never imagined his family would become the next target. He’d never expected the anger, the embarrassment, to burn so personally.

He swallowed thickly, head tilting back against the wall, gaze fixed unseeingly on the darkening sky. He needed to fix this. Needed you to understand that he’d meant none of it, that he wasn’t like his father, even if today he’d failed spectacularly at proving it.

But how could you possibly forgive him after what he'd said?

He wasn’t even sure if he could forgive himself.

The courtyard incident never reached the Headmaster, but the castle carried gossip faster than owls. By the next morning everyone knew Lee Haechan had called the Minister’s daughter “filthy blood” to her face. Ravenclaws pitched him glares sharp enough to cut skin. Half the Slytherins avoided eye contact, the rest wore smirks that said at least one of us finally said it out loud.

You refused to be in the same corridor with him, let alone speak. At meals you sat with your team while he took the far end of the Slytherin table and toyed with food he never finished. Whenever you entered the library, he left. Wordlessly. Every time.

The distance should have made things easier, instead it thrummed like a headache behind your eyes.

Thing’s should’ve calmed down after that, but the Prophet ran a follow-up column on the Lee investigation, calling Haechan directly a liability to the family reputation. Skeeter framed his words against you in the Great Hall as proof of the “volatile Lee temper,” the perfect angle to question whether the family’s dark artefact inquiry hinted at deeper corruption.

She quoted unnamed “allies” of the Lee family who feared the heir’s public outbursts were undermining decades of carefully polished prestige. In Skeeter’s telling, Haechan wasn’t just an embarrassed teenager but a wobbling pillar threatening to topple the entire Lee dynasty.

You closed the paper before anyone could see your hands shaking. Whatever anger you still felt, seeing him reduced to a scandalous article—no less than you had been—left a sour taste in your mouth that lasted throughout breakfast.

By the time you slid into Charms class, your stomach was in knots. Professor Flitwick’s flickering quill skated across the blackboard, dividing your Charms class into pairs for the upcoming Presentation on Non-Verbal Counter Charms.

The moment your name appeared next to Lee, H., the knots pulled so tight you thought you might throw up.

Across the room, Haechan twirled his wand between two fingers, deliberately avoiding your gaze. You’d managed to avoid him so well you were half-convinced the castle had sprouted secret passages just to keep you apart, so being forced into proximity again felt deeply unpleasant.

“Partners will demonstrate in two weeks,” Flitwick announced, clapping his tiny hands. “Research and practice outside class is essential!”

Reluctantly, you gathered your things and walked stiffly to the empty seat next to Haechan. He didn’t bother moving his books to make room for you.

“I wrote down a few options,” you said, dropping your notes onto the corner of the desk. “I’ll handle wand movement notation, you can do the theory.”

Haechan barely cracked one eye open. “Pass. Last time I trusted your wand work, I nearly lost my eyebrows.”

“That was in Defense class, and you deserved it,” you snap, voice sharp enough that two Gryffindors glancd over. “Just do the theory, Haechan. It’s not that hard.”

“Oh, I’m sorry—did I miss the part where we decided you’re in charge?” He straightened slowly, finally meeting your glare. “If Flitwick’s grading us on performance, I’m not gonna let you take all the spotlight.”

You exhaled sharply. “Then what’s your brilliant idea?”

“We can meet in the library tonight,” he said evenly. “Let’s practice first, figure out who does what later.”

“Fine,” you snapped.

“Fine.” He leaned back again. “And let’s do something advanced. Your choice, if that makes you feel better.”

You rolled your eyes, muttering a resigned “Whatever”

When you arrived at the library a few hours later, it was mostly empty aside from a Ravenclaw girl who was crying into her Potion notes and Madam Pince who was judging from her desk at the front. Haechan was sitting at a back table, posture so straight it seemed unnatural for him. His eyes flicked up only when you dropped your bag across from him.

“Non-verbal Disillusionment,” you said by way of greeting. “It’s a simple figure eight motion. If you botch it, I’m not explaining to Flitwick why you’re half-invisible in class.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Nice to see you, too.”

“Let’s try partial disillusionment first, just my hand."

He raised his wand, eyes narrowing in concentration. "Stay still," he murmured. His wand flicked in a tight spiral. At first nothing happened, then slowly your fingertips began to shimmer into the tabletop, camouflaging perfectly with the wood.

“Not bad,” you admitted, slightly impressed.

He lowered his wand, the illusion fading quickly. "Your turn."

You focused carefully, tracing a precise spiral in the air. His hand flickered briefly before returning fully visible.

He gave you a faint smirk. "Looks like you need some pointers."

“Just be quiet for two seconds, will you?"

"Maybe try easing up on the wrist movement," he suggested anyway. "Less stiff."

You tried again and his fingertips vanished almost completely. He flexed them experimentally.

"Better," he said quietly.

Halfway through the wand practice he paused. "About the other day, in the Great Hall—"

You tensed immediately, eyes snapping up to meet his. “I’m not really here for an encore performance,” you muttered.

Your counterspell fizzled again, causing reddish brown to bleed through the fading illusion on his arm. He didn’t mock you this time. Instead, he silently recast the charm, patiently waiting for you to try again

“I was a dick,” he said quietly. “And not in my usual charming way. I mean… a proper, full-scale dick.”

“I’m aware.” You said, though you wanted to laugh at the way he described that.

“I crossed a line," he finished, holding your gaze steadily. "I shouldn't have lashed out like that or called you a—”

“A filthy half-blood?” you finished, swallowing around the tightness in your throat.

His jaw tightened. “Yeah. My father always taught me the fastest way to look strong was to punch down. It’s taken me this long to realize how pathetic that is.”

"You didn't have to throw me to the wolves to save yourself."

He exhaled slowly, looking tired and ashamed. “I know. And I’m sorry.”

His sincerity softened some of the tension that had lodged itself inside your chest. After a pause, you gave him a small nod. “Apology acknowledged.”

He tilted his head cautiously. “But not accepted?”

"Still pending," you offered quietly. "But no more low blows and no more humiliating me publicly."

He almost smiled, relaxing slightly. "Fair, truce?"

You hesitated, then held out your hand. "Truce."

He took it firmly, and you felt warmth linger briefly even after he let go. You hesitated, fingers tracing the edge of your wand.

“How are you doing, by the way? With... everything. The Prophet. The investigation on your father.”

Haechan looked down at the table, then exhaled a laugh that had no humor in it. “It’s weird. Part of me’s pissed they’re dragging his name through the dirt. The other part…” He trailed off, swallowing hard. “The other part thinks maybe it’s what he deserves.”

You stayed quiet, but your hand crept across the table, resting just near his.

“I keep thinking,” he said softly, “if they tear him down, does that mean they’re tearing down part of me, too?”

You bit your lip. “No. You’re not him.”

“Don’t sound so sure.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I sounded exactly like him that day in the Great Hall.

“But that’s not who you are.” You reassured him softly.

His hand moved then, his pinky brushing yours.

“Thanks,” he said, voice barely above a breath.

“Ready to try the full-body charm?”

He leaned back with a teasing smirk. "Try not to make me disappear permanently. I know you'd miss me."

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't entirely suppress your smile. "Don't tempt me."

For the next hour you traded spells and counter-spells. He still rolled his eyes and mocked your notes, but the comments landed softer every time, the edge dulled by something like mutual respect or at least mutual exhaustion. When Madam Pince finally shooed you out of the library, you’re silently looking forward to the next practice.

After that truce in the library, nothing between you and Haechan got any easier.

In private, he still showed up to practice and study. In public, he kept his distance, afraid that more articles would come out. The more time you spent around him, the riskier everything felt.

If anyone had asked, you would have denied thinking about Lee Haechan at all—denied the way your pulse lurched when his broom skimmed too close during matches, denied how your gaze drifted to his mouth when he argued with you in class, denied the fierce stab of protectiveness that flared whenever someone else insulted him.

But your parents were still political adversaries, and it was the middle of the elections which meant everything was so much more fragile. You were starting to think that The Prophet had spies in Hogwarts. The rumor that Rita Skeeter could transform into a fly and that’s how she heard so many private conversations was starting to seem more believable every day.

Because of the complexity of all these things, you hand no choice but to roll your eyes at Haechan in the corridors, call him insufferable beside your friends, and let the castle believe you hated him without exception.

Mostly you stuck with your own Quidditch team since it was easier to pretend around them. Venting about the Slytherin Seeker was practically a bonding ritual.

“He’s such an asshole!” Mika spat after a Saturday match, pushing her dark hair off her forehead.

“I can’t believe Madam Hooch let that shoulder check slide,” Renjun grumbled, ripping off his gloves. “He nearly sent you into the stands.”

“Typical Slytherin, they only know how to play dirty,” you agreed breathlessly, bruised, and secretly exhilarated.

But you weren’t totally innocent either.

That morning at breakfast, right before the match, you’d gotten into one of your usual arguments with him over something silly like who’d scored more points this season or who had better broom control.

“Keep dreaming, Lee,” you said, smirking across the table. “You’ll fumble the second the Snitch shows up.”

He scoffed, chin propped on his hand. “If I win today, I want a reward.”

“A reward?”

“Yeah. Something worthy of beating you.”

You pretended to think, tapping your fork to your lip. “Fine. If you catch the Snitch, I’ll give you whatever you want.”

The words left your mouth with a casual shrug, but the second you said them, his expression darkened with interest.

“Anything?” He asked, lowering his voice enough so only you could hear. “You might not like what I want though.”

You blinked, suddenly very aware of how close his knee was to yours under the table.

His gaze flicked briefly down to your mouth, then back up. “See you on the pitch, then.” he said softly, pulling away with a smirk that left your cheeks burning.

You’d said it as a joke. Obviously. But now, after the match, with bruises blooming on your ribs and your teammates fuming about missed fouls, you couldn’t stop replaying that look on his face. And to top it all off…

He’d caught the damn Snitch.

You waited until your teammates were gone and the Slytherin tent was empty to walk in. Haechan was sitting on a bench there, shirt half-off and hair damp with sweat.

“Took you long enough,” he sighed, leaning back in his arms.

“You’re lucky the wind was on your side today.”

“Aht! Aht! Don’t come at me with that now, you were still confident enough to bet.’

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever, you’re not even going to cash that in.”

“Oh, but I am.” He pushed off the bench slowly, stepping closer. “You can’t offer something like that and expect me to just forget.”

You crossed your arms. “What do you want, then? A box of Fizzing Whizbees? A foot massage?”

“Tempting. But no.” His fingers reached out, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear before letting his hand drop.

“I want you to admit I’m the better Seeker.”

“Come off it.” you laughed.

He leaned in a fraction, his voice lower now. “Alright then. I want you to ask nicely.”

“What?”

“Please, Haechan, what do you want from me?” he said, mocking your voice. “Say it.”

He was getting too close. Your eyes flicked to his mouth for half a second, and you knew he caught it.

“Is this the part where you make me kiss your boots or something?” you scoffed, looking at a point behind him instead of his eyes.

“I have a better idea of what you can kiss.”

An annoying flush crept up your neck, lips parting in disbelief at the implication.

“Excuse me?” you asked, with a laugh that came out shakier than intended.

“You heard me.” He didn’t look away, didn’t even blink.

This wasn’t your usual banter anymore. The kind you could dismiss with a scoff and a snide remark. This felt infinitely more charged.

“Oh, you’re disgusting.” You muttered.

“We made a deal,” he said, stepping even more into your space. “And I won.”

You backed up slightly, only to hit the wooden lockers behind you.

“What exactly do you want from me, Haechan?”

“That,” he started, his voice lower and raspier now “is a great question.”

He moved slowly as if he was offering a chance to run but you didn’t. Maybe you should have.

His hand came up, knuckles brushing your jaw. “You want to know what I want?”

You swallowed hard and nodded.

“I want to know what happens when you stop pretending you hate me.”

“I don't pr—”

“Don’t lie. I've seen the way you look at me when you think no one’s watching, you’re so obvious.”

You tilted your head, defiant even now. “Fine, let’s say you're right. What then?”

He gasped so slightly you barely caught it before his smirk came back in full force.

“Then we need to do something about it.”

You stared up at him, close enough to count every damn mole on his stupid, perfect face.

He leaned in until his lips brushed your ear. “Unless,” he whispered, “you’re scared you’ll like it.”

Your hands twitched at your sides.

“As if.”

You kissed him so hard you knew it would bruise later. And for a second it wasn’t about politics or Quidditch or the Prophet or who hated who first. It was just his mouth on yours, insistent and warm, and the way his hands gripped your waist possessively.

The kiss only lasted a few seconds before he pulled back, breathless.

“That was definitely better than a foot massage.”

He barely finished the words before your mouth crashed onto his again, hungrier this time, any shred of dignity gone. Your fingers slid up his neck, tugging him down by the collar of his robes.

Haechan chuckled into your mouth, and you felt him press you harder into the wood, his body trapping you there.

“So much for hating me,” he murmured, breaking just far enough away to speak, his breath hot against your lips.

“Shut up,” you hissed, fingers tightening in his hair as you pulled him back down to you, kissing him roughly to silence that stupid mouth.

He groaned against your lips, slightly annoyed at how good you were at this. Your hands caressed his jaw where stubble was growing. His hands found your hips and squeezed firmly.

You gasped, lips parting to give him an opening, and he took it immediately, deepening the kiss with the kind of reckless arrogance that made your knees tremble. One of his hands slid lower, slipping under your Quidditch shirt to brush bare skin.

“Fuck—” you breathed, eyes fluttering shut when his mouth pulled away to trail along your jaw. “Haechan.”

He hummed, pleased at the way his name sounded from your lips. “Say that again.”

You shook your head stubbornly, pulling his mouth back to yours, swallowing the cocky smirk you could feel forming. You needed him silent, you needed to stop thinking, stop remembering that this was Lee Fucking Haechan.

His thigh pressed between your legs, and suddenly it was harder to pretend you didn’t want this with every fiber of your being. Especially when you were arching against him, hips chasing the friction shamefully. He noticed and pressed harder, savoring the breathless sound you made.

“Not so mouthy now, are you?” he teased, nipping your lower lip.

“Just—god—stop talking,” you breathed, dragging your nails down the back of his neck, earning a rough groan that vibrated through you.

Your head spun from how quickly this was happening, how eagerly your body surrendered to him.

He smirked against your lips. “But I like watching you argue.”

You grabbed his jaw firmly, forcing his gaze down to yours, reveling in the way his breath stuttered at your sudden boldness. “Haechan, I swear—”

“What?” His voice was challenging, eyes glittering with excitement. “What are you gonna do?”

The answer came in the form of your hand sliding down to palm him through the fabric of his quidditch trousers, smiling sharply when his confident expression fell, eyes squeezing shut as he bit out a moan.

“That.” You murmured, stroking him again, slowly.

He recovered quickly and was kissing you again with a hand tangling in your hair, tugging firmly enough to make you gasp.

“Two can play dirty, princess.” He growled softly, hips pressing forward into your hand.

“Then fucking play,” you challenged, breathless.

His fingers swiftly undid the buttons of your trousers. Nothing but heat flushed your skin as he slipped his hand lower and under your panties, fingers finding exactly where you needed him.

You cried out sharply, hips bucking into his touch.

“So sensitive,” he teased, voice shaking just slightly as his fingers circled your clit gently, then pressed inside you. “I wonder if your team knows their perfect little seeker gets this wet for a Slytherin.”

“Shut—ah—” your retort melted into a moan, hips grinding shamelessly against his hand.

Your head fell back against the locker, lips parted in a silent gasp as Haechan’s fingers worked you over. Your legs were already trembling, breath hitching in time with every curl of his fingers.

The need to to wipe off the fucking look on his face of pure cocky satisfaction was overcoming. He was watching you unravel like this was the victory he really wanted—not the snitch, not the match, this is what he’d been craving the most.

“Who knew,” he murmured. “That you’d look this pretty falling apart all over my fingers.”

You couldn’t even glare at him, all your strength focused on moving your hips against his hand, chasing that high, chasing him. Until the unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching froze you both on the spot.

His hand stilled immediately, and you slapped it away in a a panic. Your pants were unbuttoned, his shirt was still half-off, your lips were swollen, and you could feel your pulse between your thighs, desperate and unfinished. This was not exactly how you wanted to be caught dead.

“Shit,” you hissed, shoving him back as quickly as your wobbly knees allowed.

Haechan grabbed his wand and muttered a cleaning charm under his breath, wiping any visible evidence from his hands and your legs. Then, he schooled his expression into that bored and slightly annoyed mask he wore in class.

You barely had time to fix your clothes before a voice rang out from outside.

“Haechan? You in here?”

The Slytherin beater, Na Jaemin.

Haechan stepped out of the tent as if he hadn’t just been knuckle-deep inside you. “Just grabbing my wand,” he lied smoothly. “I didn't know I needed a hall pass to change.”

Jaemin laughed. “Hey, was someone else in there?”

You forced yourself to step out, tucking your shirt in with trembling fingers and praying to every god in the castle that your face didn’t look as wrecked as it felt..

Jaemin blinked at you, confused. “Oh.”

Then he looked between the two, and you could see the pieces falling in place.

“Right…” he said, drawing out the word. “Well, don’t let me interrupt. Just figured you’d want to see the scoreboard. They’ve posted top players.”

Haechan raised a brow. “Top players?”

Jaemin gave a pointed look. “i think you’ll be surprised.”

Then he turned and walked out, leaving behind a thick silence in his wake. You let out a breath, arms crossed tightly over your chest.

“That was a close call.” He said, still looking way too proud for someone who’d just been caught mid-debauchery.

You glared. “I'm going to kill you.”

He smirked. “Only if you say please.”

The Ministry’s Galas always felt like a battlefield in ball gowns, but this year it was worse. Your mother moved through the ballroom with effortless grace, every nod and handshake a subtle show of dominance. You followed half a step behind, champagne flute untouched in your hand.

“Y/N, darling, try to look engaged,” she murmured, looping her arm through yours as she guided you toward yet another tedious cluster of political allies. “This is the perfect opportunity to make connections before graduation.”

“Can I at least enjoy dessert before I get offered a job I don’t want?” you said under your breath.

She laughed lightly as if you’d said something charming. “You have options, dear. The International Magical Cooperation office is always interested in young minds, and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement has already reached out. You could even apprentice under Councilwoman Fairbairn, she’s been watching you.”

You blinked, trying to summon enthusiasm. “That sounds... overwhelming.”

“It sounds like a future,” she corrected, smiling at a passing Wizengamot elder. “We can’t all be Quidditch captains forever.”

You clenched your teeth behind a tight smile. This entire night was curated around your mother’s standards. From your dress, your hairstyle, to your perfectly timed laugh. And you were so bored you could scream.

So when she paused to speak to a pair of visiting diplomats, you used the opportunity to escape toward the dessert table. You stuffed a sugared pumpkin tart into your mouth just to have an excuse not to answer questions about your “career trajectory.” If anyone asked again about your post-Hogwarts plans, you were going to throw yourself into the enchanted punch fountain.

The peace lasted until you felt that familiar prickle between your shoulder blades. You turned just as Haechan bowed to a council witch, and walked straight toward you.

“Enjoying the pastries, princess?” he asked, stopping close enough that the chandelier lights caught a storm of gold in his eyes.

“You should focus on your father’s damage control, not my dessert plate,” you replied, forcing a smile that hurt your cheeks.

“Trust me, he’s better at politics without me. Besides, I’m here to make sure you don’t die of boredom.” he said with a crooked grin.

Then as if it was the most common thing, he wiped a bit of powdered sugar from the corner of your lip. The action shocked the reply out of your mind, and you had to look around to make sure nobody saw that. A passing journalist drifted too near so you stepped back on instinct and lifted your chin to reply.

“I would rather be bored than babysat by you.” The reporter’s quill twitched happily and moved on.

Haechan’s eyes cooled, but a corner of his mouth lifted. “If you keep insulting me that sweetly, people might think you mean the opposite.”

“Are you ever serious about anything?” you rolled your eyes, yet your pulse thudded hard enough to blur the string quartet.

He offered his hand. “One dance. You can call me names the whole time.”

“Not a chance,” you hissed but a council member brushed past and mistook your glare for a smile. “Oh, Miss Y/N, would you lead the next waltz?”

Before you could refuse, Haechan’s hand slid to your back. “She’d be delighted,” he said smoothly, steering you onto the glassy floor.

You settled your palm against his shoulder, felt muscle tense under velvet, and tried to count the steps. But his thumb brushed the inside of your wrist and the numbers scattered.

“You’re shaking,” he whispered.

“It’s the tempo,” you lied.

The waltz spun you through three agonizing minutes of perfect posture and silent arguments fought with eyes alone. When the final note faded, applause burst around you, and you let go as if burned.

You escaped to a side corridor lined with stained-glass portraits. Halfway down, you heard his footsteps. You spun, skirt whipping.

“You had no right—”

“No right to what? Save you from making a scene?” He stopped an arm’s length away, breathing hard. “I’m pretty sure we’re here to keep appearances.”

“Oh, thank you,” you snapped. “But I can fight my own battles.”

“I’m aware.”

A flickering wall sconce threw silver across his cheekbone, your eyes followed the droplets of melted snow that still clung to his hair from the ride here. He looked beautiful, and you hated it.

“Why do you always do this,” you said, softer now, “You always make everything harder than it needs to—”

He stepped closer. “Do you really not know why?”

Your breath caught, his gaze dipped to your lips.

“Haechan… this isn’t right,” you whispered.

“I know,” he answered, not moving back. “But tell me you don’t want it too.”

A voice rounded the corridor corner—two aides chatting about the banquet. Without thinking, you grabbed Haechan’s collar and dragged him into a narrow alcove behind a velvet drape. The aides passed but you still held onto him.

“You’re truly such a pain,” you breathed.

“You’re one to talk.” He said and kissed you before you could come up with another retort.

His hands framed your face, thumbs stroking away shock. Yours fisted in the silk of his robe as you kissed him back, matching every demand. The gala’s distant music thumped through the walls, but inside the alcove everything narrowed to the press of mouth on mouth, the soft catch of your breath, the relief of finally, finally shutting each other up.

When you broke apart, you were both trembling. He rested his forehead against yours.

“This is so dumb,” you breathed.

“I have to disagree.”

Another set of footsteps came from outside and you pulled away smoothing your hair. He straightened his lapels with a tiny smirk on his lips.

“Lose the grin, Lee.” you said, slipping out first into the hall, masking swollen lips behind a polite smile. He followed a minute later, expression schooled into neutrality again.

Across the hall, your mother caught your gaze. You forced yourself to move toward her, while behind you his fingers brushed across the back of your hand before letting go

A week went by without much thought. The bruises from the gala’s waltz, the little half-moon marks his fingers left on your wrist, had faded. But the memory of that alcove kiss refused to. Unfortunately, life went on, and in your household that meant tea with the Minister at precisely eight in the morning.

Your mother was already seated in the glass-roofed conservatory, steam curling from a delicate china pot. She greeted you with the smile she reserved for diplomats.

“Sit, darling.”

You obeyed quietly but anxiety bubbled in your chest. She only used this much ceremony when she was about to drop a bomb.

“I’ve been thinking about your future,” she began, pouring. “You’ve always excelled in Defense, but I know how fond you are of languages as well. So I called in a favor.”

Your stomach dipped. “Mom…”

She set a parchment envelope on the table. “A summer internship in the Department of International Magical Cooperation, right after NEWTs. You’ll shadow the Trade Accords division, they might even pay if you impress them.”

“I didn’t apply for this,” you said tightly.

“I applied on your behalf. They accepted instantly, obviously. One look at your marks, your pedigree—”

“Exactly,” you cut in. “My pedigree. When do I get to make a choice that isn’t pre-selected for political optics?”

Her expression cooled by a few hard degrees. “Opportunities like this don’t wait. You’d be foolish to refuse.”

The conversation spiraled quickly with her measured reasoning, your rising temper, and the clink of china as you set your cup down too sharply. In the end she dismissed you with a gentle but immovable, “We’ll speak once you’ve calmed down.”

You left the conservatory shaking, the parchment still unopened in your fist.

You considered skipping but pride shoved you into the Ministry lift at 8:59am. You wore sensible robes you hated, hair pulled back into a ponytail that was giving you a headache, and your heart was still hammering with resentment. But if you had to do this, you would do it well… and spitefully prove you didn’t need your mother to pull strings.

The lift grill rattled open onto a marble corridor lined with signage that said Level Five, International Cooperation. You approached the reception desk, rehearsing a polite introduction. Then you heard a laugh that froze you on the spot.

Haechan was leaning against the counter, chatting easily with the receptionist. He was wearing dark robes, and his hair was slicked back. The receptionist pointed toward a stack of orientation folders, he thanked her with a wink, and turned towards you.

His eyebrows shot up in shock when he saw you, then his mouth curved into a slow smile.

“Well, well. Fancy seeing you here on a Monday morning.”

You gave him a flat look. “What are you doing here?”

“Same thing as you, I’m guessing. Interning because my father thinks letting me rot on a beach all summer would reflect poorly on the family name.”

You raised a brow. “Was this the only department desperate enough to take you?”

“Actually,” he drawled, stepping closer, “Magical Law Enforcement was my father’s first pick but it was too much work so I requested this department specifically.” He tilted his head. “Imagine my surprise when I saw your name on the roster last night. Made this whole endeavor infinitely more entertaining.”

Heat crept up your neck, equal parts anger and something far less convenient. “I’m not here for your entertainment, Lee. Stay out of my way.”

“That might be difficult,” he said, tapping the crest on his folder. “Trade Accords division, same as you.”

Of course. Your mother couldn’t have orchestrated a more ironic punishment if she’d tried. But grateful relief pooled in your stomach anyways. At least you wouldn’t be alone in a sea of strangers, at least the one person who could keep up with you (and rile you up) would be right there. But you couldn’t show that. The whole structure of whatever twisted thing existed between the two of you depended on pretending you’d rather kiss a Blast-Ended Skrewt.

The program coordinator, Ms. Thatch approached you, beaming at you both. “Wonderful! Our Hogwarts pair. Minister Y/L/N spoke highly of you, and Mr. Lee comes with stellar references. You’ll be working together on our project about Portkey Tariff revisions.”

You swallowed a groan, Haechan’s grin only widened.

“Looking forward to our collaboration,” he said sweetly, extending his hand. Ms. Thatch watched, expectant.

You shook it, pretending your pulse didn’t spike when his thumb brushed the inside of your wrist in a silent echo of the waltz from the gala. His eyes flickered with the same memory.

“I hope you can keep up,” you murmured under your breath.

“When have I ever disappointed you?” he answered, squeezing slightly before releasing your hand.

The morning of your first official group session, you found Haechan sitting on the arm of a leather sofa in the Ministry atrium, twirling his wand mindlessly and balancing a croissant on his knee. You approached slowly, arms full of color-coded folders of all the research you’d done already. He looked up, eyes dragging over your thoroughly professional appearance before raising a brow.

“Someone’s ready to storm the Wizengamot.”

“I can’t say the same about you.”

He popped the last bit of croissant into his mouth and spoke through the crumbs. “Relax, this thing’s just a formality. They don’t expect us to have actual solutions yet.”

“I’m not here to coast,” you huffed. “I’m not going to let anyone say I got this internship because of my mother.”

“Of course not. You’ve got enough pressure breathing down your neck without adding my laziness to it.” he replied with a dramatic sigh.

“So you admit you’re lazy.”

“Ah, I'd call it strategic,” he corrected with a grin. “Why waste effort on a rigged game?”

You stared at him, genuinely annoyed now. “Why even be here if you’re not going to try?”

“Because I was told to be,” he said, still smiling but something behind his eyes hardened.

You opened your mouth to press, but Ms. Thatch appeared, waving the two of you over to the briefing room where interns settled around the long mahogany table. Ms. Thatch stood at the front, adjusting her elegant tortoiseshell glasses.

“Welcome back, everyone. Today we’ll outline initial proposals for the Portkey Tariff Revision project,” she said briskly. “I trust you all reviewed the necessary documents in preparation for this.”

You glanced quickly at Haechan, who was leaning back and looking bored in the chair opposite you.

When Ms. Thatch’s gaze landed on you, she smiled encouragingly. “Miss Y/L/N, let’s hear your proposal first.”

You straightened, ignoring the faint twitch at Haechan’s lips, and began clearly, “The current tariffs favor Western European trade. I think we should revise the rates using updated data from underrepresented regions, especially in Eastern Europe and Asia. It would make things fairer across the board.”

Ms. Thatch nodded appreciatively. “Very good, any thoughts?”

Haechan leaned forward, eyes glinting as they locked onto yours. “That sounds good on paper but it ignores our current diplomatic priorities. Adjusting tariffs too quickly risks alienating our key European allies. I’d suggest a phased approach, start with targeted reductions for certain regions while giving our main trade partners time to adjust.”

You narrowed your eyes slightly, feeling irritation rise at the implication that your idea was naïve. “So we just let the imbalance drag on for years while everyone tiptoes around it?”

He tilted his head, annoyingly calm. “No, we just need to be smart about timing. If we push too hard and too fast, we could lose cooperation completely. It’s not just about fairness, it’s about what’s actually doable.”

“Diplomacy requires action,” you shot back, voice sharpening despite your efforts to remain composed.

“When has rushing things ever gotten us anywhere?” he asked with a raised brow.

The other interns glanced between you two with barely hidden fascination. Ms. Thatch cleared her throat delicately. “Passionate debate, but perhaps we can find a middle ground?”

You flushed slightly, biting your lip. Beside you, another intern whispered something like awkward, but you ignored it.

“Well,” Haechan started, “we could try a hybrid approach. Immediate adjustments where the gaps are the worst, but phase in the rest over time. We could also offer incentives like better magical goods regulations for countries willing to work with the new model early on.”

You blinked. It wasn’t a terrible suggestion. It was annoyingly logical. Worse, you’d briefly considered something similar before dismissing it because it felt too cautious. You glanced at Ms. Thatch, whose expression was encouraging.

“…That could work,” you said reluctantly. “As long as we set clear timelines for change and don’t let it get buried in process.”

Haechan gave you a satisfied smile. “Look at that teamwork.”

Ms. Thatch clapped once, pleased. “Wonderful! A joint proposal from Mr. Lee and Miss Y/L/N. Excellent demonstration of cooperation.”

Your face warmed up at her compliments, but you were still annoyed because you'd unintentionally made Haechan look good too. He reclined in his chair again, twirling his quill lazily, with a little smirk on his face.

When the meeting ended, you gathered your parchments quickly, eager to escape the lingering awkwardness. But as you stood, Haechan slipped smoothly into step beside you.

“You’re welcome,” he murmured, leaning slightly toward you.

“For what? Pointing out flaws in my idea?”

“For saving your impulsive approach from alienating half of Europe,” he corrected.

“Why do you act like you care about the outcome now?” you snapped softly.

“You’d be surprised.”

The lift chimed before you could answer. You stepped in first, forcing a slow breath. Haechan followed, positioning himself at a polite distance but still close enough that his body heat seeped through your robes.

The enchanted car lurched upward, then swerved left, then right in its usual nauseating zig-zag. Your boots slid and you lost your balance. Haechan’s hand shot out, pulling you against the solid plane of his chest.

“Careful…” he murmured.

“Thanks,” you managed, the word thin and embarrassingly high.

He released you the moment you steadied, but the imprint of his fingers stayed on your skin. When the doors finally opened on the Atrium, your pulse was thudding so hard you could hear it.

“See you tomorrow, partner,” he murmured, throwing a knowing glance over his shoulder as he exited.

You watched him disappear through the bustling floor realizing it was going to be a very long internship.

The next few days consisted of nothing but research. Haechan seemed more interested in the project after your argument. He claimed he was committed to helping but you suspected he just enjoyed contradicting your findings.

“Page six,” he announced, flipping your draft around. “Your import tariff curve is off by half a point.”

“It is not.” You muttered without looking up.

He leaned forward. “Wanna bet?”

You rubbed your temples, eyes throbbing from going through three decades worth of parchments. “Fine. Show me.”

Haechan stood and bent over your chair, his cologne wrapping around you. He pointed to a neat column of figures, far closer to your face than necessary.

“See?” he murmured. “You adjusted by seven percent, but the 1903 clause moved the baseline to eight.”

“Good catch,” you conceded through gritted teeth.

He straightened, grinning. “Say it louder, the ghosts in the basement might’ve missed it.”

You rolled your eyes, then pressed two fingers to the side of your neck and winced. All those hours of hunching had finally caught up with you.

Haechan’s smirk faded. “You okay?”

“Just sore,” you muttered, rotating your shoulder. “Thanks to someone who insisted we cross-reference three languages and thirty years of footnotes.”

“That same someone happens to give excellent massages,” he said, sliding behind your chair before you could protest. “Turn.”

You opened your mouth to refuse but then another sharp twinge shot down your spine. So with a reluctant sigh, you let his hands settle lightly on your shoulders.

“Don’t break me,” you mumbled, cheeks heating.

He chuckled, low. “You’ve survived Bludgers to the ribs. I think you’ll live.”

His thumbs worked slow circles into the knotted muscles at the base of your neck. Heat unfurled under your skin; the room seemed to narrow to the quiet rasp of parchment and the steady press of his hands.

“Better?” he asked, voice a breath from your ear.

“A little,” you managed, pulse thudding far too fast for mere relief.

He kneaded deeper, tracing careful circles. Your breath caught as his thumbs slid higher toward your neck. He paused, and you didn’t realize he was leaning in until you felt the faintest ghost of a kiss graze your bare shoulder where your robes had slipped. Your entire body stiffened in surprise.

“Haechan—” The name broke on a gasp as he kissed you again.

“I’ll stop if you want,” he murmured but his lips only drifted higher. Another kiss landed below your ear, teeth grazing a spot that made your breath hitch. He nudged your hair aside, mapping the exposed skin with his mouth.

“What are you doing…” you breathed.

“Just helping you relax,” he whispered, mouth warm on your neck.

You turned without thinking, and his mouth met yours, stealing the rest of your question. Your fingers slid into his hair, tugging him closer.

He stood from his chair and eased you back until you bumped the table. His tongue brushed yours; a low sound caught in his throat when you arched into him. Your hands found the loosened knot of his tie and pulled. He broke the kiss just long enough to trace your bottom lip with his thumb.

“Feeling better?”

You swallowed thickly. “I don’t know.”

“Hmm, we gotta keep going then.” He kissed you again, deeper this time, hands sliding down to your waist and gripping tightly. His hips pressed forward, drawing a sharp gasp from you as you felt the heated line of his body. Your fingers tightened in his shirt, clinging as he kissed along your jaw, teeth gently scraping your skin.

“We shouldn’t—” you breathed, though you tilted your head to grant him better access.

“I know,” he said hoarsely. But neither of you stopped.

His hands slid down to explore the curves of your body through your robes. You felt dizzy, entirely consumed by him. He lifted you slightly onto the table, knocking scrolls and parchment to the floor, but you hardly cared. There was no one around in the Archives at this hour and all you could focus on was him—the fierce heat of his mouth, the soft catch of his breath when you bit his lip.

Your robes shifted upward, exposing bare thighs. His palms skimmed your skin, rough fingertips igniting sparks along your nerves. He kissed you deeply, tongue sliding against yours as you parted your knees instinctively, drawing him in closer.

“Lie back.” He murmured.

Your heart kicked up as you leaned onto your elbows, breath already shallow. His eyes didn’t leave yours, not even as he dropped to his knees, hands sliding up your thighs and pushing them apart with slow pressure. With his other hand he bunched your robes higher, the cool air hitting your skin in sharp contrast to the heat rolling off him.

“Haechan—” you gasped, tensing when his mouth brushed the inside of your thigh.

You hadn’t expected how soft he’d be. How careful. He kissed higher, lips dragging up inch by inch until his breath was warming your core. You squirmed closer, needing him closer, needing somethinv to relieve the pressure building low in your stomach. His eyes flicked up to yours with a silent question in them. You nodded without hesitation.

His mouth was on you in a second. A sharp main escaped before you could stop it, echoing off the dusty shelves. His tongue moved slowly at first, learning you, and then with more purpose. Your hands fumbled for the edge of the table, gripping tight as your breath caught again and again. The sensations were overwhelming, so much better than anything you’d let yourself imagine.

“Fuck,” you breathed. “Haechan—”

“You’re so fucking sweet,” he said between strokes. “Tastes better than I thought.”

“Don’t stop,” you gasped, voice cracking. “Please—”

“Not planning to.” His fingers dug into your thighs as he dragged his tongue in tight circles. “Gonna make you fall apart on my mouth.”

He groaned low against you, and the vibration nearly sent you over. Your hand flew to his hair, tugging, desperate, but he didn’t slow. His tongue worked you relentlessly, fingers digging into your thighs as you twitched.

“Haechan—fuck—” you choked, voice high and strangled as you came hard. Your thighs clenched around him but he still didn’t stop until you started to shudder.

You slumped back, breathing fast. Haechan rose slowly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

You reached for him without thinking, pulling him into a kiss. You tasted yourself on his lips, but you didn’t care. You just needed to feel him.

“Less tense now?” he murmured, his smirk returning, but softer this time.

You exhaled, dazed. “Yeah. But—”

“I know,” he said, pressing his forehead to yours. His eyes slipped closed. “This doesn’t leave the room.”

You nodded, even though everything in you hated the idea. He pulled back just a little, smoothing your robes down, then reached for his fallen notes without meeting your eyes. You fixed your hair with trembling hands, still trying to get your breathing and your thoughts under control.

But you knew the truth, even if you weren’t ready to admit it. This wasn’t just something that happened and pretending otherwise wasn’t going to make it go away.

#nct x reader #nct dream x reader #enemies to lovers #pureblood x halfblood tension #nct smut #nct dream fic #nct imagines #nct dream smut #nct fic #haechan fic #haechan smut #haechan x reader #haechan x y/n #haechan x you #haechan fanfic #nct angst #nct dream fanfic

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thalwri · 4 months ago

Text

TEACH ME SIR! pt. ii

part i!

STARRING: art professor!rafayel x art student!reader

synopsis: after the supply closet incident, finishing your final assignment wasn’t easy. but at least you reaped a good reward in the end.

warnings: porn with plot, all characters are aged up (and in university), fem!masturbation, listening to an unintentional sex tape, overstimulation, public sex, beach sex, fingering, oral (m!rec), body worship, dirty talk, pussy slapping (once!), cum eating (technically), creampies, underwater sex, overstimulation (again).

wc: 8,7k

a/n: forgive the delay, uni has been at my neck these past few weeks so i wanted to take the time to make this really good for you guys. hope you enjoy part 2!

MINORS DON'T INTERACT!

you hadn’t slept.

not because of the final practical you had to hand over in three days time, not because of the submissions you’ve already see (which were phenomenal), but because of him.

your hands were stained with dried clay– you’d made countless attempts to wash it off and try again until you realised it was too futile. you’d end up thinking about rafayel again.

you’d end up thinking about what happened in the supply room two days ago.

every. single. fucking. time.

your mind was clouded in a buzz. your body was vibrating. your hands were shaking. you couldn’t even will yourself to touch the clay in fear that you’d mess up the progress you had already put countless hours into.

you had mastered– you had hoped you did– rafayel’s face almost to the exact image of him. from the shape of his lips, to the height of his jawline, to the moles you indented into his face, everything.

and that just made it so much worse.

you could see him blushing before he kissed you. his eyes slowly rising to meet your gaze. the unmistakable lust that choked up that cramped room to the point where you could only smell each other.

you had wanted him. and you failed to force that desire down your throat. in fact, it just sunk down to your pussy and pooled there waiting for him to consume you.

and he almost did. he was so close. his lips pulled at your now wet underwear, teasing your clit with his drooling tongue as if a mere piece of fabric meant nothing to his desire to taste you.

his cock was rock hard. his body was like a fire. his voice was hypnotic. but the memory wasn’t enough.

fumbling through your phone with your nerves trembling right to your fingers, you found the voice note you had recorded. you had forgotten it was still ongoing even after rafayel had left. you were left in shambles, panting and huffing out moans of shock and despair. you needed more of him.

your finger hesitantly hovered above the button to play the audio. what were you thinking? it was wrong. not only was it illegal considering you were going to use it as blackmail, it was corrupted with the most lewd experience you had gone through to date. none of your previous lovers could contest the impact rafayel left on you.

the effect he had on your mind. you couldn’t let it remain a memory.

without another doubtful thought, you quickly tapped the screen and pushed your phone away from you. his voice immediately flowed into your ears through the earphones, silencing every other noise in the private studio.

“where were you?”

your eyes fluttered shut, visualising the state he was in. shirt unbuttoned, chest heaving up and down, veins pulsating from his forearms to his wrists. his voice had a rasp to it, roughening out each syllable with unprecedented anger. almost like he missed you and your absence pissed him off.

your voices clashed in argument in the playback, waves of spiteful satisfaction resonated in you. at least you reminded him that you still had the backbone to fight back. then the pause came in, slowly raising your pulse. you could feel the tension rising as if you were witnessing it for the first time.

“you think i’m pretty?”

your legs pressed together, thighs rubbing almost instantly. you couldn’t fold that easily. you had already lost your grip. you couldn’t do it again. you felt for the edge of the table and gripped on it hard, afraid that if you moved your hands would fly to tend to your sobbing pussy.

“say it again.”

you almost did too. jolts of unanswered arousal pooled from your core all the way up to your throat. a gust of air was caught in your throat, your chest began to tighten. it was becoming too much to hold yourself. but you had to. just a little longer.

he laughed right down to your heart. his lips drew in a slow, deliberate breath before his next words came in a sultry whisper. “say it.”

“make me.”

you groaned into your hand, so vividly seeing the remnants of your sinful interaction you wouldn’t be surprised if that alone made you cum.

sounds of your lips colliding with sharp breaths shot shivers down your spine like a bullet. a soft moan escaped your lips, the rubbing of your thighs stimulating your clit ceased to allow your legs to spread wide open as you leaned back on your chair.

your hand crept down to the hem of your skirt, lifting it up to grant you access to your heated core. your fingers tenderly brushed over your sensitive bud and instantly brought out a pleasured response from it. your wetness somehow leaked from you even more just from a single touch.

the hushed breaths, wet kisses and soft moans filled your ears just like how you’d idealised his cum stuffing your needy pussy. your fingers delicately wandered around your swollen clit and eventually pressed down over the hood, rubbing it in cruel circles.

you sucked in your gasp as you fell deeper and deeper into the memory accompanied by the audible reminder of your mischief yet justified vice. your back curved into an arch, fingers rubbing faster and faster until your poor cunt was squelching from neglect and completely overwhelmed by your wetness that it soaked past your clothing onto the chair beneath you.

shudders and shivers brought your body to a shameless tremble– your legs pounced on the leg of the chair, struggling to maintain what drop was left of your composure. the joint melody of your moans and his lips smacking your skin sent you into a drunken frenzy.

you could still taste him in your mouth, you could still feel his hands all over your body ghosting your skin in a layer of unabashed desire.

“want to eat you,” his voice whispered. “taste you.” fucking hell, you were gone. a loud cry slipped out of your lips as your fingers finally answered your body’s call and plunged right into your pussy.

your lips curved into a ferocious grin, your fingers wasted no time to cruelly curve and push deeper and deeper into you. your gummy walls clenched around your fingers but it didn’t feel the same. it couldn’t resemble what he could do. how deep rafayel’s could go.

how much deeper it could have gone.

you leaned back on your chair to give your hands more access to your weeping hole. you were so warm and wet– it’s no wonder rafayel lost his mind so quickly. your fingers slowly pumped deeper and deeper into you as far as they could go. one more slipped in, stretching you wider and a pitched whimper broke the silence in the studio. your pussy squelched and cried in arousal, practically begging you to move faster.

but your sick mind couldn’t help but relish in the thought of holding yourself back just enough for your legs to twitch and shake.

the audio had long ended and continued in an endless loop, repeating the hushed whispers, his laughs, the wet smacks of your lips, the amalgam of your lewd noises… fuck.

again and again, your body shook at the precipice of your climax and yet you held back, keeping your wits sharp and your sensitivity even sharper. your fingers curled and thrusted deep into your cunny as far as it could. usually it was enough to push you over but ever since rafayel? your fingers were null and void compared to those smooth, rude fingers.

your legs spread wide apart, back arching to the overwhelming stimulation, moans literally hitching into slutty whimpers. the shadows of his touch burned your flesh driving you half insane.

“f-fuck–“ the way his clothed length pressed against you, hard and hot was so deliciously sexy you couldn’t help but imagine how he’d feel inside you.

first in your salivating mouth, still hot and intoxicated in his taste, so you could taste his cum shoot right down your throat. then all over your chest and face after he fucked your tits. then slowly and eventually deep inside you, stuffing you to the absolute brim.

your head tilted far back over the chair as the pleasure bundled itself like a bursting supernova, throwing you into an endless abyss for you to drown and relish in the memory of his touch. the memory of his taste. the memory of your desire for him.

waves of ebbing pleasure vibrated into your bones. but it wasn’t enough.

you rocked your hips slowly against your palm, shivering from the aftershocks of your recent orgasm, needy for a special someone’s touch to replace your own. disrespectful, lewd, arousing whispers of his voice laced with your own ran into your ears in a continuous loop. you could listen to that damned audio for days.

your fingers dipped in and out of your soaked cunny, spreading your folds to feel how truly wet you were– and fuck damn. you were so sensitive to the touch and yet so desperate for more.

you twitched, shook, and whined all in the midst of grinding yourself over your hand. you were making a mess, dripping all over the chair and your clothes but you couldn’t care less. you were so overindulged that you’d even stopped holding your noises back.

his voice– his damned voice– begging to taste you, his fingers pressing so deep into you, his lips suckling at your bud– it was all too much on top of how sensitive you were.

“need–“ your moans swirled into loud, whiny sighs as you drew closer to your edge. “need it–“

your hands trembled at the sight of the sculpting tool before you. no. you wouldn’t. you couldn’t.

but you needed to. you needed it. your poor pussy was practically begging for more and who would you be to deny yourself of the pleasure you deserved?

you gripped the handle of the tool and settled it neatly between your legs, ensuring the barrier of your wet panties protected you from the tool. your hips rocked back and forth over it, both cold and hard, ensuring it abused the life out of your swollen bud.

it was almost as thick as him but just as hard. you clamped your hand over your mouth, whimpers getting louder the faster you moved. his name slipped out of your lips in a devastated moan followed by rambles laced with unabashed filth.

“wish it was you,” you could feel the muscles in your neck constrict and strain the further you arched back. “wish it was you– fuck!”

it had gotten so noisy. all that wet slick noise that squelched right from your core had gone straight into your head. the recording had turned into white noise and your only interest was bringing yourself to your climax once more.

you hated how you were making such a mess over him. you hated how you were getting so wet over the sound of him just seconds from fully eating you out, fully devouring you. and yet you loved it more than anything in the world.

you swiftly pulled the tool up and huffed out a shaky moan just from the sight of how soaked it was– just from you grinding on it. your fingers tugged your panties aside and plunged deep inside you once more, not wasting time for you to lose your edge.

your shaking hands dragged the handle of the sculpting tool up your body and nestled between your open cleavage, painting your lewd nectar all over your flesh. it was so sticky, so debaucherous, and so damn good that you couldn’t help but giggle at how fundamentally wrong it was.

“fuck– please, oh god, please!” your lip caught itself between your teeth, your body unable to handle the overwhelming pleasure you were torturing yourself with. but you couldn’t stop and you didn’t want to.

the table shook from how tight your grip was, practically vibrating from how hard you rolled your hips into your hand. your skin was hot and sticky. the room was thick with your breathy, slutty moans and the noises your fingers expertly pulled out of your cunny. just one more push and–

as if it were divine timing, rafayel’s muffled moan broke you out of trance, absolutely breaking you.

your nails clawed into the wood. your eyes rolled back. a hoarse cry ripped straight out of your throat and your body crumbled down, orgasm so intense that you collapsed right onto the table, body trembling, lungs gasping for air.

you glanced down to your hand and chuckled. wrinkled and soaked in your cream, you brought it to your lips to taste what had driven rafayel so mad. you felt manic. all that from a kiss and a little more.

you expected the feeling of shame to kick in. but it didn’t. if anything, you felt pride. pride that you were the only one to have touched him, kissed him. the only one to have driven him to the point of tasting you.

the mixture of sighs and nips came to a halt as you pulled your headphones off to analyse your crime scene. your chair was dripping, that clay sculpting tool was drenched, your heart was pounding. and the sculpture before you serenely stared at your disheveled state, almost like he relished in watching you fall apart.

oh, you were fucked.

and zayne could tell.

sitting in your usual spot barely an hour later, you were an absolute mess. shaking, stuttering and nervous at the mention of rafayel’s name. you had tried to maintain composure or at least give a front of being unbothered but your body literally decided to fuck you over.

“every time i say his name you shiver.” zayne deadpanned, stabbing into yet another cake slice with his fork.

goosebumps coated your skin like a layer of fur. you felt like it was about to start snowing based off how violently you were shaking. almost like your body was screaming for you to attack your pussy with your fingers again. “no i don’t.”

“oh really?”

you slowly nodded with a forced grin.

“rafayel.” and a sharp jolt ran down your spine, this time pulling a whimper out of you. his eyes slowly narrowed before widening in realisation. “oh my god, did you have sex with your professor?”

“no!” if oral sex counts…

“so you did fuck him.”

“not exactly!” you conceded, burying your face in your hands. what better way was there for you to explain it other than saying ‘oh, it turns out he’s actually interested in me and probably finds me hot because he kind of ate me out’?

you could just make him listen to the audio– but you couldn’t. you didn’t know if you were under the influence of selfishness but it felt too sacred. too personal. and even though zayne has seen and heard a lot from you (mostly against his will), this was something you weren’t fully willing to share.

but he knew everything about you, hell, he’d accidentally found you using your vibrator (the only way to reimburse him was to send him a text or keep a note on your door and to buy him desserts for three months). but that recording? no. not that.

so instead, you gave him a watered down summary but did not spare any details just to spite him a little. by the time you were done, his decadent cake was long abandoned, replaced with a look of great disdain.

“while i’m eating my cake.” he grumbled, scowling at the dessert in reminiscence but he knew his appetite would not grant him the pleasure of eating more. he slowly leaned back into his seat, pushing the plate as far as his arm could reach.

“so you’re telling me your professor dragged you into a supply room to ask why you weren’t in lectures and he ended up eating you out?”

hands still covering your face, you nodded.

“well, you’re not going to handle your lecture if you keep shivering just from hearing his name.”

“do you think i don’t know that?!” to make matters worse, you had an upcoming lecture that you had originally intended to go to. it would be like a revision lecture, filled with tips and advice to assist you before you had to submit your final assignment.

you were planning to go. were. and then that psycho ate you out.

“do you think you’ll be fine to sit there?” zayne poked your hand, voice laced with concern. honestly you didn’t know. maybe you could sit in the back of the lecture hall so that way he wouldn’t see you. or maybe on the last seat in the row so you had an easy escape.

“stop overthinking.” your best friend’s voice snapped you right out of your daze. “if you think you’ll be fine, start going. if not, i’ll come with you–“

“no, nope!” you shot up to your feet, deliberately ignoring the rush of blood leaving your head. you were falling into a daze of dizziness– but not like how rafayel’s fingers did– fuck. “i’ll see you later, yeah?”

“unless you actually fuck him this time.” zayne muttered just loud enough for you to hear as your rushed off.

“choke!”

all you had to do to survive the next forty-five minutes was to rawdog it. just take everything that would be thrown at you and bite back hard. shouldn’t be that bad right?

wrong.

the fucking asshole ignored you. he didn’t even look at you as you walked in. he was occupied with some of the maintenance staff carrying sculptures into the lecture hall. was he going to do a presentation to praise the makers?

as you walked to the nearest vacant seat, you had heard snickers. not a lot, but enough to know that some people still remembered what had happened.

“rawdog, rawdog, rawdog.” you muttered under your breath, glancing at the table in the front of the hall. that wasn’t there before. just what was he planning?

just as he turned to face your class, all noise instantly fell to silence. but not like it usually did. something about his demeanour seemed a bit different. more crude. rafayel stared in four specific directions for long, without blinking or uttering a single word. his face was blank. and that was what made it terrifying.

“usually, these revision lectures come with written notes,” his stupid bioluminescent eyes glanced down at the four statues before him, scanning each detail noting its perfections and marking its imperfections. “but i believe a demonstration would do far better. especially with these finalised sculptures that were submitted early.”

he walked to the furthest sculpture, made of clay that was still slightly wet. it depicted the head of a lion– its details designed almost expertly. your skin prickled in the heat of envy. of course he would brandish the best works in the class. of course he’d act the same.

crack!

the sound was like punching drying mud. still slightly wet but dry enough to sound painful.

the lion’s head was deformed, ruined and defiled by rafayel’s hand without a pinch of remorse on his face. a horrified cry erupted behind you following by choked sobs. you glanced over your shoulder to see one of the girls that bullied you crying into her hands. as much as you wanted to feel bad, you just couldn’t.

“that one was still dry.” he nonchalantly shrugged, wiping the excess clay on the edge of the table as if it were sludge. “don’t submit your work if it’s unfinished. that includes the clay not being fully dry.”

he gracefully glided to the next, picking up a very heavy hammer. he tossed it into the air, watching it quickly plummet down landing directly on the sculpture beneath it. that one had fully dried. shards of dried clay flew as far as the first row of students, resulting in a flurry of screams.

“that one was just ugly.”

the third he had pushed off the table to meet its end with a crash!

“boring.”

the last sculpture remaining stood as the most beautiful. it looked as though hours of sleep were lost to craft it, delicately held and carved and made with something deep. not love. desire. rafayel stared at the sculpture, lazily scrutinising each part. he held up a jug of clear liquid and poured it all over the sculpture until it was drenched completely.

he picked up a box of matches. gasps and murmurs slowly arose. your eyes widened.

he pulled out a match and dragged it across the sandpaper to set it alight. gasps turned into screams. your hand raised up to your lips in disbelief but never quite reached its destination.

it was almost as if time had slowed. those purple-blue eyes slowly blinked as his gaze reached up directly to yours. and the match fell, slowly gliding down to the head of the statue, engulfing it in divine flames. divine vengeance.

he kept his word.

a loud scream sounded across the lecture hall, the only noise made in the otherwise silenced hall. the shock had silenced you. and yet his eyes– his eyes were now blue. like the flames drowned out the regal poise and gentleness in him and left only the cold cruelty behind.

it scared you. and it made your thighs press tightly together. it made your breath hitch. warmth almost as hot as the flames pooled in your core, only amplified by his gaze on you. your fingers twitched intuitively, almost like an urge to reach out to him. as if his eyes were a silent song calling to you.

he kept his word.

“i do not tolerate bullying in this class.” rafayel reluctantly pulled his gaze away from you to glare at the four culprits.

it did not take long for him to figure out who had destroyed your trial sculpture. with a bit of bribery and pushing up marks, it took him less than a day. it took a lot of self restraint for him to not attack them the moment he found out.

but he knew that this would be more satisfactory. their devastation and humiliation. your shock and relief.

he couldn’t help himself. he just needed to avenge you. to see you happy. to have you in his presence again. you were dragging him deep into your abyss, singing to him, alluring him, drowning him– and he was more than happy to drown with you.

and if that meant showing you just how far he was willing to go, then so be it.

“you will not be passing this class under my guidance, and by extension will not complete this degree to graduate with your classmates.” devastated sobs were the only response.

“to the rest of you, those are the ‘tips’ you need to keep in mind if you want to pass your final assignment.” and with that, he stalked out of the lecture hall. and chaos erupted.

the maintenance staff had begun to clean up and extinguish the still burning flames. the statue had long burned to ash but the flames surged strong.

you had to find him. you needed answers.

you rushed out of the hall buzzing with heat and shock. you needed air. but not on campus. you would find rafayel later. for now, you needed to breathe.

so you went to the beach. the first one you could find. you didn’t even bother listening to the security guard shouting behind you when your only interest was to be able to get air.

salted air filled your lungs as soon as you stepped onto the sand. it was relieving, soothing. as soon as your mind had cleared itself, you would start planning how to find rafayel and corner him.

but you weren’t going to have to look far.

“was that a worthy apology?” that voice. that same husky tone reserved solely for you had erupted your senses. struck your nerves. sent jolts of relentless heat right down to your core.

he stood right beside you, blazer hooked on his arms and hair wildly blazing with the wind.

“how did you–“

“i normally come here to paint.” he said as if it was obvious. like you totally knew. “how did you get past the guard?”

you weren’t going to tell him how you almost pushed the poor old security guard into a bush when you stumbled all the way there. “don’t worry.”

“right,” rafayel scoffed. “i won’t worry that you travelled all the way from campus when you should be working just to come here. it was to get air, yes?”

oh, he was insufferable.

“you’re unbelievable.” you huffed as you stormed deeper through the shore until your legs kissed the waves. rafayel followed almost intuitively, as if there were a magnetic string holding him to you.

“and you’re unavoidable.” he spun you back in his direction. “i’ve barely been able to concentrate on anything apart from you. from avenging you. from the memory of you in that room.”

your breath hitched. you’d assumed he moved past that event, let it go and allowed it to be a mere memory. it was more than a shock to see that he felt something too.

rafayel found his hands travelling around your body, the same way it did a few days ago. the way you were reacting to his touch… those gentle sighs, your leans into his hands, you were calling to him. and he just had to answer you.

“after what happened that day,” his head pressed onto yours as if touching you as much as he could would stabilise him. “all i can think about is you. and no matter how hard i try to satiate myself–“

a low growl pooled from the depths of his throat. “it’s just not enough.”

your held your lips within your teeth, leaving a gentle sting in your flesh. a soft finger flew to your chin, tugging it down just harshly enough to pull your lip out of your teeth’s grip.

“don’t.” he whispered. “you know what that does to me.”

you couldn’t help yourself but smile. back to his authoritative act again. the only difference was that this time you knew that it wouldn’t last.

“make me.”

you had to admit it. you missed his lips. you missed kissing him.

it felt so deliciously intense, so hot, so arousing. your hands naturally found comfort in his soft purple curls while his held your waist to press you two as close as possible. the cool bite from the waves kept you hyperaware and awake, intently noticing every movement he made, every sound that escaped his lips, and his growing length prodding your core.

“professor,” you sighed as you willed yourself to pull away to breathe.

“rafayel.” he corrected, leaning in to peck you. he was addicted and more than proud to admit it. “call me rafayel from now on.”

you had said his name many times to curse him, to gripe at him, and to complain about him. but never like this. never this intimately. it almost felt too delicate to say.

“say it.” peck.

“say my name.” peck.

“or i’ll make you.” his next peck quickly deepened with his tongue welcoming itself. his cock pressed hard against you, burning right through the layers of clothing between you. you were going to fucking explode.

“rafayel.” you moaned into his lips. his grip on you tightened.

“rafayel.” you said again. his hips jutted up.

“rafayel.” a low groan disrupted the peaceful crash of the waves on the shore.

“again.” rafayel pressed boiling kisses along your jaw to your neck, biting and suckling bruises into your skin.

the damn cold really woke you up because you slowly remembered that this was your professor you were kissing and were about to fuck in the middle of the beach. “rafayel, we shouldn’t–“

“please,” kiss. “need to be inside.” kiss. “need to feel you.” kiss.

“i punished those that wronged you,” he fell to his knees, completely ignoring the waves pushing him back and forth. he was too needy, too aroused. “forgive my wrongdoings, cutie. let me please you again.”

he was good. he was too good at reminding you of just how much you wanted him. just how much you ached for him. you’d be a fool to deny yourself of that pleasure. your pussy was just begging you to be blessed with that delicious feeling only he could provide.

but, again, you were both in the middle of a beach. empty, yes. but anyone could walk around.

“rafayel,” his eyes twinkled in glossed desperation. “we’re on a beach.”

“it’s a private beach.” oh. so that was why the security guard chased after you. “i own it.”

your eyes widened. he owned a beach?

that annoying chuckle sounded beneath you as rafayel rose to his feet. he cradled your face in his hands, pressing warm kisses on your cheeks. “i said i like to paint here. but i’d never do that with strangers looking. so i bought the beach and the properties surrounding it.”

of course he did. the man was literally rolling in money.

“so you have absolutely nothing to worry about,” his hips rolled onto yours, reminding you of the delicious hard on you had imagined while you fingered yourself just a few days ago. “unless someone runs past the security guard.”

“mean.” but so sexy while doing it. but since you two were safe to engage in your shenanigans… “then let’s do it.” you slowly leaned away from his hold to peel your clothes back layer by layer.

rafayel silently watched you unbutton your blouse, unveiling your pretty tits, one nipple slipping out the hold of your bra. he quickly followed in suit, tugging of his drenched dress shirt to toss it onto the sand.

you watched his shirt slip off, revealing his muscular chest and abdomen. he must have been sculpted by gods– or was potentially a god himself. you couldn’t help but look further down. down the tense line of abs to his v-line, to the trimmed purple tufts leading down to the tent growing in his pants.

your pants had fallen to the sand along with his, and fuck me sideways the print of his cock was orgasmic. could you even hold all of that with your hand?

rafayel stepped closer, reaching his hand up your spine until it reached the lace enclosure of your bra. “you sure you want this?”

“you have no idea how much i want this.” a soft click instantly echoed end the endless range of the beach, giving your spine and chest relief as rafayel slipped your bra off your body. his hands delicately caressed your tits, deliberately pinching your hard nipples to perk out even more.

“raf–“ you gasped, feeling a foreign sense of pleasure spread down to your core. that was new.

“mhm?” his eyes were practically fixated on your chest, fondling and massaging your mounds. his tongue slowly swiped over his lips and in an instant, he latched himself on one of your nipples suckling on you like a man starved.

any response you would have made – which was most probably you cussing him out – was replaced by a sharp cry. while his mouth nibbled and suckled marks onto one his hand massaged the other, switching positions in intervals until he believed he gave your chest enough attention.

“see what you do to me?” his hand guided yours down to the huge bulge in his pants. it was rock hard. fucking leaking. “getting me so riled up just from the thought of satisfying you.”

his fingers hooked around the hem of your panties – lace again, you must be doing this intentionally – and tugged it down until he could see the string of your wet arousal connecting the fabric of your underwear to your sweet pussy.

“fuck, you’re soaked.”

“and you’re rock hard.” you attempted to retort the obvious but your flustered state gave away your nerves. you tugged his underwear down, freeing his cock with a spring.

it slapped his stomach, shooting drops of precum on his milky skin. fuck damn, he was so big. so thick your hands wouldn’t even be able to wrap around it, and long enough to stuff you to the brim. and those veins? you could count three. his mushroom cockhead raged a dark pink colour, leaking copious amounts of precum. you were tempted to lap it up right there.

rafayel must have caught you staring like a dickmatised sucker, judging by his giggle– he fucking giggled.

“don’t be shy,” his hands reached to hold yours as he pulled you deeper into the ocean, like a siren calling upon a sailor. it was unbearably cold and yet it didn’t bother you. “it’s all yours to touch.”

rafayel guided you behind a large rock sitting not too far from the shore, tall enough to hide you and shallow enough for the water to reach your upper thighs. the rough, mineral surface was much warmer than the water, making you melt as soon as your back touched the rock.

“do you want me to stop?” his lips drew dangerously near yours. so damn close.

the ocean fell quiet, serenely whispering to you with its waves gently lapping at your skin. the wind whistled through the air, blowing through your damp hair, bringing you to a shiver. rafayel leaned closer, pressing himself as close to you as your bodies could allow.

it all felt so hot, so comfortable that the cold water couldn’t do anything. his hands wandered down, down to the perked pebbles on your chest. your eyes fluttered shut as his fingers ghosted over your skin, shivered gasps escaping your lips.

“no,” your head fell beside his own, pressing hard on the need to protect the last of your restraint. “don’t stop.”

he hummed in approval, moving his hand lower and lower until it reunited with your weeping core. “you did something to me that day,” rafayel did not waste a breath to touch you, running his fingers along your folds and deliberately avoiding your swollen bud. “i haven’t been able to concentrate. just been craving you. needing to touch you.”

his hips bucked up rubbing his cock up and down your abdomen, precum painting your skin. you felt like his canvas, just waiting to become his best artwork. you were so wet you couldn’t think. you knew he could tell.

“i couldn’t contain myself after,” rafayel gripped your chin to pull you into a lascivious kiss. his fingers circled around your wetness, dragging your wetness up ever so slowly until it touched your clit. your breath hitched at the feeling. “i just kept on touching myself to the thought of you. but it was never enough.”

his fingers were humbly invited into your entrance, ruthlessly rubbing your wetness all around you, mixing it with the cold water beneath you. his tongue stuck out his lips, heavenly eyes focused and enamoured by the pure wetness you could produce. he could almost smell it over the ocean’s salt.

he devoured your whimpers, slipping his tongue deeper into your mouth. the way he drilled into you, curving in an utterly delicious angle and taking in every moan, sigh and sultry noise you created was almost too much. it felt divine.

“my favourite thing about you,” he pulled his fingers out of you, giving your pussy a harsh smack as you whined. he brought his fingers up to his lips, sticking his tongue out to lick and taste your delicious nectar. the mere contact of it on your tongue made him groan.

“your taste,” his eyes darted from his hand to your soaked cunny then to your lips. “it’s been stuck in my mind. and how it tastes with mine? fucking amazing.”

oh, he was nasty. good. because you were too. “let me taste you,” your body intuitively leaned closer to his fingers, lips spreading wide enough to take him in your mouth. “taste us.”

the noise that erupted from him was more than enough to make your walls clench. rafayel took the invitation your lips gave him and slowly pushed each of his pussy drenched fingers in, one by one.

he was right. you tasted good. that’s one point to you for taking good care of yourself. but what roused you was the way he looked at you.

his lips were parted, breath heavy, eyes glossed over and darkened with lust so intense that the purple-red tint of his eyes were drowned by the blue. he pushed his fingers deeper inside your salivating mouth up until you gagged around him.

“now imagine this,” he pushed his fingers back and forth, watching your bob your head as you sucked and swirled your tongue around what remained of your juices off his finger. “with my cock.”

oh fuck damn. that man had a way with his words. it felt like a dream come true. you must have manifested it while you were fucking yourself earlier that day.

“you wanna try?” your eyes widened in erratic excitement. you pulled your head away and slowly sunk to your knees, making sure to kiss the exact spots he had kissed your skin in that supply room.

slowly, teasingly, rudely, you dropped to your knees while ensuring your mark was etched on his skin in bites and bruises. rafayel’s pretty eyes were fluttering, face completely flushed red. you looked even better than he imagined. more delectable. it took so much more than his restraint to stop himself from fucking your mouth there and then.

but he let you tease him. just a bit longer.

you pressed a hot kiss right at the base between his heavy sacks and his cock, bringing him to a shudder. your finger trailed up his shaft until it reached his slit to dance little circles around him until drops of his nectar dribbled down to your tongue.

of course he fucking tasted good. just how much more divine could he get?

your tongue lapped him up slowly to take each and every drop until your lips wrapped over his tip. that alone was almost too much for you. fuck that, you were going to finish what you started. adjusting yourself to see him clearly, you raised your gaze to his glossy eyes and winked before sinking his cock into your mouth as deep as you could go.

rafayel’s hands flew to your head, gripping your hair to hold himself back. his chest heaved, rapidly moving up and down, and his lip trapped itself within his teeth. god, he was so fucking handsome.

you slowly brought your head to a rhythmic bob while your hands (both) stroked what your mouth couldn’t take. you traced each vein with your tongue as you moved back and forth and sucked hard on his cockhead every time you drew back for air. your jaw loosened just a bit to accept more of him down your throat, more and more until your nose was tickled by his purple hairs.

“oh, you evil woman.” rafayel huffed, watching a twinkle of mischief grow in your eyes as you pulled your head back. “i swear, if you– fuuck–“

the way his cock filled your throat had your pussy soaking even more. your jaw was widened to its limit, tears were burning at the corners of your eyes and your hands gripped his thighs to keep a strong hold on him. you took a quick mental notes. deepthroating was clearly one of his weaknesses.

your rhythm had gone much faster and deeper now that your throat became accustomed to his size. you quickly became sloppier and wetter, leaving a mixed trail of precum and saliva travelling down your chin to your tits. the gargled moans and gags leaving your lips drove both of you into a lust-fuelled frenzy.

“cutie–“ his moans grew louder the faster you went. “cutie,” his moans slowly turned into whines. “fuck, cutie–“

his hands gently pushed your head back to free his cock from you. he held his hand up as he panted, practically begging to get some air. you could only grin and wipe away the wet slick covering half your face as you rose to your feet.

rafayel’s lips crashed into yours, worshiping your lips in pure reverence. in a swift move you found yourself in his arms, leaning right against the rocks as his cockhead aligned with the entrance to your long neglected cunny.

“i hope you’ve had your fun,” his voice had dropped down an octave. you didn’t realise you could be so attracted to him more than you were just moments ago. “want to make you feel me deep inside.”

his lips coated your neck in wet, hot bites and smooches to draw out more of your sighs and moans. he deliberately attacked what he had learned to be your most sensitive spots until you were writhing in his arms.

“please, raf,” you pleaded. “stop teasing.”

you could feel his lips curve into a smile. “since you asked so nicely.”

rafayel slowly lowered your onto his cock but made sure you felt every part of his tip spread you wide open for him. your nails clawed into his shoulder and back, the sheer girth was overwhelming.

he whispered short praises to soothe you all while pushing his tip in and out of you until you welcomed more of him inside. the slight pinch of pain quickly became pleasure, allowing your pussy to soak him in your juices and suck him deeper into you until he bottomed out completely.

“fuck.” you both sighed into the air, eyes fluttering shut.

you felt complete. you could’ve stayed just like that for hours.

“‘m gonna move, okay?” rafayel mumbled into your neck. your patted his shoulder in response. his cock slowly drew back and jutted right into you, making you gasp.

he rolled his hips in and out of you slowly, just to get you both nice and comfy before picking up the pace until you both moved in tandem with each other.

one hand held the back of your neck while the other had a death grip on the plush flesh of your ass, feeling it ripple each time your hips collided. he kept pounding until his hips drew back a bit too much, pulling his cock out of you. he swiftly pushed back deep into you, ripping out the most lewd scream from your swollen lips.

“oh, cutie,” he gasped out a handsome, breathless laugh, moving faster into you than before. “i thought you were worried about us making– shit– noise.”

“this–is– ah- your fault!” slutty stutters were all you could muster, and that only egged him on to go harder. deeper. rougher.

“what was that?” his tongue slithered up your neck, licking the salt off your skin. “didn’t catch that. ’s my cock too much for you?”

“g-god, fuck you–“

“yeah,” you could just feel him smile on you all while being balls deep inside your cunny. “yeah it is. let me– fuck– lemme fix that, cutie. how ‘bout i make you cum a few times so you can let all that anger out, yeah?”

so filthy. his words were practically drenched in debauchery and desire. and for some reason it had you fucking yourself back into his cock, desperate to feel those delicious veins running up and down your fluttering walls.

you relished in the debauchery spewing out of your lips, trembling from the heat literally radiating off his body contrasting the chilling cold from the waves slapping your skin. your cunny squeezed so tightly round his cock that he almost came right there. he needed more. he needed to feel more.

rafayel swiftly pulled out of you and pressed a wet kiss on your shoulder as an apology to your whines.

“do you trust me?” his husky whispers brought you to a shudder. you could only nod. he lifted you off the rock, sitting down in the water with you on top of him. with your waist was submerged the pressure within your core had increased astronomically– especially since he was still lodged deep inside you.

rafayel held you still by your hips, breath heavy and laboured. “didn’t know you could get tighter than that, cutie.” you couldn’t help but squirm, rocking your hips back and forth to make him move just a little. everything was so hot inside you to the point where the cold no longer bothered you.

it felt so damn thick and big, stretching you out even more than you thought you could tolerate. just as you were about to settle on him, rafayel’s hips snapped up pushing his cock further into you than before.

it’s like the waves moved in tandem with the way his cock fucked up into you, bouncing you up and down, splashing with the colliding water every time your hips returned to each other.

your moans turned into relentless cries into the wind, muted by the ocean’s song. the shifting sand dragged your further and further into the ocean unbeknownst to either of you, so encapsulated in chasing each other’s pleasure until you were chest deep.

rafayel ensured every part of you was touched by his lips, tasted by his tongue, and marked by his teeth. you were struggling to keep up with his smooth, godly pace. he couldn’t catch a break. he just kept going on and on to the point where you wondered if he was even human.

“do you feel that?” he groaned, not wasting the opportunity to slither his tongue around the shell of your ear. his grip on your waist tightened indicating his impending finish on its eve. “how warm you are, how tight you are around me– fuck– you’re burning.”

“you feel– you feel so much bigger!” your hands tangled in his drenched locks, tugging just as hard as his thrusts.

that annoying chuckle rumbled from his chest. “don’t make me blush,” using the incoming wave as a booster, he raised your hips until only his leaky cockhead stayed lodged in your cunny– which was sucking him so hard he couldn’t escape if he tried– and dropped you back down until your folds brushed his swollen sacks.

your vision had gone white for a second, and rafayel– the cruel, mean bitch that he is– took that second as your ‘recovery time’, getting right back into working you to your limit.

deeper and deeper the waves carried you in, raising the pressure in your pussy as he pistoned in and out of you, his tip practically kissing your most sensitive spot– something you couldn’t even achieve reaching.

your head threw back just far enough to touch the rising tide, throwing you into a dangerous mix of shock and pleasure. it so intense that your walls fluttered around him in an explosive finish, dragging out the most melodic cry he had ever heard.

“oh, cutie–“ he was about to pull out– just about to. but he couldn’t, it all just spilled right out of him. the way your pretty cunny literally tightened around him… it was almost like you intended to milk him of all he had.

a breathless gasp left your lips at the feeling of his borderline boiling cum just filling you up. to think you almost stopped taking the pill. you would be more than happy to spend the rest of the year being stuffed like this– with him.

“i’m sorry, i am so sorry, i–“ you silenced rafayel’s apologies with a hungered kiss– so devoted and starved that you subconsciously nipped at his tongue and lips, rolling your hips to feel his seed spread deeper into you. and he hadn’t stopped. it was practically endless.

“i’m on the pill,” you whispered against his lips, pecking him with each word. “don’t worry.”

rafayel looked so precious under you. it’s like the ocean decided to bless him by making him even more handsome. he looked godly. sculpted by the most poetic artists, given the voice of a siren, the eyes of the deepest most beautiful coral and the hair of the most beautiful mermaid in the known abyss.

and you had the privilege to watch him unravel just for you.

his worry almost made you feel bad. he held you close, cock still pumping his sticky seed into you, soft plump lips spread as he heaved for air. the tide was still high, and the waves began to rage. but neither of you were willing to return to the surface just yet.

the waves were rising to your necks, just moments away from submerging you. your legs trembled, your breath hitched at every movement. and a mischief idea came slithering into your mind.

“i wanna try somethin’” you slurred, almost drunk on the feeling of him so deep inside you. even the cold water began to warm up as your pussy tingled through the last of your orgasm. she wanted more. you wanted more.

you leaned down to his neck, licking a wet line up his neck, to his jaw, to the corner of his lip. “but you’re going to have to trust me.”

in good timing his hips jutted up into you, cock still rock hard and throbbing. “anything. do anything.”

questions of doubt began to flood your mind but you decided to through caution to the wind. you'd gone far enough– there was no turning back. “take a deep breath and hold it.”

splash!

rafayel’s senses spiked completely to a new level. your lips were pressed tightly on his, enveloping him in a stronger erotic embrace. you had gone deep underwater until you were both completely submerged, using only the breath you held as your lifeline.

everything felt so deliciously tight. so soundless. so weightless. like there was no limit to what you could do. rafayel wanted to take advantage of that. he swiftly flipped you over, ensuring your back gently landed on the seabed. breath still bated and lips still in a ferocious dance, rafayel slowly and gently rolled his hips in and out, feeling his cum seep out of you with each delicious thrust.

the contrast between hot and cold was overwhelming, his blood rushed through his veins as the pounding in his chest translated to intense throbbing in his cock. your fingers dug into his flesh, squeezing at the pleasure and clawing for air but every time he tried to bring you both up to the surface you pulled him back down.

the pressure alone brought you to yet another orgasm, pussy clenching around him even more. rafayel could practically hear you moan the last of your air right out of you just as he came again, both overstimulated and faint.

you both pushed past your body trembling highs swimming up higher and higher until you finally breached beyond the ocean’s grasp, returning to sweet air. within the first gulp of air you could gather, you returned to hungrily devouring each others mouths, hands caught up in each others hair and flesh like neither of you could let go.

the ocean carried you back to the shore, blessing you and sending you off until you touched the sand. you found yourself back on top of him, still vibrating and in the midst of your orgasmic finish all while he was lodged inside you.

“underwater,” rafayel huffed as his thrusts came to a final halt. your lewd juices had mixed with the water, cleaning most of it away. what remained was mostly still inside you, plugged by his girth. “fucking underwater is a first for me. how’d you even think of that?”

“i’m creative.” you grinned, arching your back just enough to make him groan. “maybe you’d be nicer if you considered that.”

his eyes darted between your own, flashing a glimpse of guilt. “i am so sorry for what has been happening to you. truly.” he pressed a kiss on your lips.

then your cheeks.

then your jaw.

“was my apology good enough?” destroying four sculptures just for you? most definitely. but you weren’t going to tell him that.

“no.” you sighed as his lips tickled that one spot on your neck. “i need more than that.”

“what can i do to make it up to you?” another kiss on your neck.

“give me full marks for my last few assignments." you huffed. "especially the trial sculpture.”

a low, breathy chuckle rumbled into your skin. his grip on you tightened to hold you closer. his eyes twinkled. “i already did.”

#✧.* thalwri #✧.* thalwri works #rafayel smut #love and deepspace smut #love and deepspace x reader #lnds smut #lads rafayel #lnds rafayel #rafayel love and deepspace #rafayel x reader #rafayel x you #lads smut

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sixeyesonathiel · 2 months ago

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you should've known satoru gojo, your teasing little shit or a husband, would turn "helping" you take the pregnancy test into another of his freaky games.

cw: domestic filth, light humiliation, urination, oral sex (f receiving), bodily fluids, teasing, overstimulation. 2.4k wc, 18+ only, MDNI.

a/n : this is the demon of a drabble i mentioned last night omfg, i really REALLY tried to tone it down i swear—the first version of this was much more NASTY because it’s with yandere satoru so i really watered down the nasty in this version 😔🥀

the lace chafes. it’s new, obviously—he likes dressing you up for different occasions, and apparently today’s theme is humiliation.

the pink lingerie clings like a sly wink, crotchless, with frilled cutouts that bare your nipples, flushed and peaked, your slit exposed, slick and warm under the bathroom’s vanity light. rhinestones catch the glow, glinting like they’re in on his joke. a tiny silver charm dangles from the straps, brushing your collarbone, etched with your wedding date—a honeymoon keepsake he picked with a smug grin.

you’re squatting over the toilet, thighs spread wide, knees trembling, heels teetering on the glossy tiles, your wedding ring glinting on your left hand—a slim, polished white gold band, cool and sleek, cradling a small, pale blue diamond that shimmers softly. the inner band hides an engraving, “mine, gently,” in his handwriting, a secret he loves tracing. the ribbon straps tug your shoulders, tied with a flirty bow by his nimble fingers, his teasing hums—bright, mischievous—still echoing as he dressed you up, smirking like he’s won a bet.

he kneels close, all cheeky adoration, white shirt unbuttoned halfway, flashing the lean curve of his chest, a faint mole dotting his pec. his sleeves are rolled up, forearms flexing, damp white hair clinging to his forehead, one stray lock curling over a sparkling blue eye full of mischief.

his wedding ring gleams—a brushed white gold band, matte and minimal, with a hidden etching of the day he met you, a detail he fidgets with when he’s bored. it catches the light as he holds the pregnancy test under you, angled to catch your stream, his grip steady but his fingers twitching with eager impatience. those eyes, too blue, too smitten, trace your slick folds, your hardened nipples, drinking in the way your lips purse, the way tears of embarrassment pool in your eyes.

“do you really have to be here?” you mutter, voice laced with reluctance and a sassy edge you’ve picked up from him, your annoyance sharp like a flicked rubber band. your hands hover near your face, fingers twitching, nails neat and glossy, your ring catching the light as you fidget, trying to mask the blush searing your cheeks.

satoru’s unfazed—his lips curl into a grin, eyes glinting like he’s just heard a challenge, and he shifts, knees scuffing the tiles, to grab your wrists, easing them away with a gentle, teasing tug.

“no hiding, angel,” he teases, voice dripping with mock innocence, eyes wide, lashes batting like he’s pulling a prank. “i gotta see my pretty wife. you’re too cute when you’re all annoyed.”

he leans closer, his breath tickling your cheek, and kisses it away, lips quick and warm, a quiet chuckle bubbling up. he holds your wrists loosely with one hand, keeping your face bare, while the other steadies the test under your slick slit, the plastic brushing your inner thigh, cool and startling.

he insisted on this—helping you take the test, to hold the test himself, ever since you both decided to check if your honeymoon efforts paid off. you’ve been trying since the wedding night, tangled in each other’s arms, laughing through kisses, and now, weeks later, you’re both antsy for the result.

“i’m your husband, i’m all in,” he’d said, pulling the test from the pharmacy bag with a smirk, eyes twinkling like he’s up to no good. now you’re squatting, thighs aching, his eyes fixed on your wet, pulsing slit, watching slick glisten on your folds, dripping to the tiles. your bladder’s barely cooperating, but your annoyance is a simmering spark, and he’s loving it, the way your breath hitches, the way your hips twitch, the way your cheeks blaze.

“come on, sweet girl,” he murmurs, poutier now, lips jutting out, his white hair shifting as he leans closer, nose brushing your knee. “you can do it. don’t keep your man waiting, yeah?” his thumb strokes your thigh, grazing a faint mark from last night’s antics, and you flinch, thighs trembling, trying to close but bumping his hand, warm, eager, his ring glinting.

“you’re so cute when you’re grumpy,” he says, voice low, eyes glinting, soaking up your tears, your pursed lips, the way your ring sparkles as your fingers twitch. “just let go for me, okay?”

you roll your eyes, a sharp, sassy flick you’ve stolen from him, your annoyance bubbling like a kettle about to whistle. “you’re ridiculous, toru,” you mutter, voice shaky but pointed, “hovering like some weirdo. it’s embarrassing.”

of course, your annoyance only earns his amusement. he laughs, a bright, delighted sound, his grin widening like you’ve just made his day, his eyes crinkling with glee.

“weirdo? ouch, baby,” he teases, leaning closer, his tone all mock offense, his free hand squeezing your thigh like he’s sealing a deal. “i’m just helping my wife make our baby dreams come true. don’t roast me now.” his eyes sparkle, eating up your sass, and you huff, cheeks burning, embarrassment swallowing you whole.

you just want this over with. your bladder’s not even full, but you force it, a reluctant, warm stream hitting the test strip he’s holding, splashing softly against the bowl, a few drops trickling down your thighs. your face burns, blush flooding your neck, and you squirm, hands jerking to cover your face, your ring glinting like a tiny star.

“toru, please, get out,” you whisper, voice cracking, tears spilling, dripping onto your chest, catching on your bare nipples, the charm at your collarbone. “it’s so embarrassing, i can’t stand you watching.”

“embarrassing?” he chuckles, warm, teasing, eyes locked on your slit, watching slick glisten, a faint dampness lingering like a shadow. “angel, it’s perfect. you’re perfect, all shy and open for your husband.” he holds the test steady, letting the stream soak it, his lips curving into a grin, his throat bobbing as he swallows, eyes flickering with that eager, hungry edge.

“there you go,” he breathes, voice thick with adoration, “my good girl, doing so good.”

he lifts the test, inspecting the wet strip under the light, his eyes squinting, a soft hum in his throat as he sets it carefully on the counter. then he’s pulling you up from the toilet, hands under your armpits, gentle but quick, your heels wobbling as your legs shake, the tiles cool under your feet.

you stumble, a tiny whimper slipping out, but he’s got you, turning you around, pressing you against the cool bathroom wall. your bare nipples graze the tiles, your slit still dripping, and he’s right behind you, breath warm on your neck, hands sliding to your hips, his ring cool against your skin.

“can’t leave you sitting there,” he murmurs, voice a teasing worship, lips brushing your ear, his hair tickling your shoulder. “too messy for my pretty wife, even if i’m so inlove with you like this.”

he drops to his knees, tiles creaking, hands spreading your thighs, his nails grazing your skin softly. you feel his breath on your slit, hot and ravenous, and you squirm, pressing against the wall, tears streaming as you try to pull away, your ring scraping the tile as your fingers curl.

“no—toru, don’t,” you gasp, voice breaking, hands fumbling for the tiles, nails slipping, your blush a wildfire. “i just went, it’s gross, please stop.” your protests are soft, desperate, but he moans, a low, hungry sound, like your embarrassment is his favorite flavor.

his tongue hits first, a slow, obscene lick through your folds, tasting the thick, musky slick of your arousal, a faint, barely-there trace of dampness from before, like a whisper of your earlier flush. you gasp, a shaky, mortified sound, hips twitching to escape, but he’s ravenous, lapping long, dripping stripes, his lips smacking loud, wet, filthy, like he’s devouring a rare treat.

“god, you taste like my fucking heaven,” he groans, voice muffled, tongue dragging from your leaking hole to your clit, sloppy and greedy, spit and slick pouring down his chin, splattering the tiles.

his hands grip your thighs, spreading you wider, ring digging into your skin, and he’s a wreck—chin drenched, lips glossy, white hair plastered to his sweaty forehead, moaning like he’s unraveling. he buries his face deeper, tongue plunging into your slit, licking deep, messy, slurping every drop like he’s trying to merge with you.

satoru’s eyes lift, locking onto yours, those blue irises blazing with a teasing, unrelenting hunger, watching you lose your mind above him. your breath snags, eyes widening, tears streaming as you squirm, but he doesn’t look away, his gaze pinning you like a vow as his tongue swirls, slow and deliberate, around your clit, sucking it hard until your hips buck, a choked moan spilling out.

“toru—no, stop,” you whimper, voice cracking, but your protests are fading, your mind splintering under his stare, his tongue, the way he’s consuming you. he moans into your slit, loud and shameless, spit dripping down his jaw, his neck, soaking his collar, his nose mashing against your clit as he licks, lips smacking, tongue fucking into you with a wet, squelching frenzy, spit bubbles bursting at the corners of his mouth.

“don’t want to,” he mumbles petulantly, lips smacking, tongue dragging through your folds, slow and sloppy, teasing every sensitive inch, his eyes still fixed on you, watching your lips part, your eyes glaze, your breath turn ragged.

he sucks your clit again, rough, then gentle, alternating until you’re gasping, your thighs shaking, your mind a fog, your ring glinting as your fingers claw the wall. his fingers join, three, stretching you wide, pumping fast, curling against that spot that makes you bite your lip, the wet sounds echoing over your whimpers.

“look at you, losing it so prettily,” he groans, voice slurred, lips smacking, his chin a glistening mess, spit and slick dripping onto his chest, his shirt ruined, his hair a sweaty tangle.

he drags it out, licking slower, messier, long, dragging stripes, sucking your clit with a lazy rhythm, then diving back in, tongue swirling deep, teasing every pulse, every twitch. his eyes stay locked on you, watching your tears fall, your lips tremble, your breath hitch as you claw at the wall, nails scraping, trying to hold on, your face a map of desperation and pleasure.

he’s relentless, lapping at your hole, sucking your folds, dragging spit and slick into his mouth, moaning like it’s his lifeline and he’s the one getting his soul eaten out of him, his lips red and swollen, his chin dripping like he’s been dunked in you. “can’t stop, sweet girl,” he pants, words slurred, lips smacking, spit dripping onto the tiles, his shirt soaked at the chest. “you’re too damn perfect, my perfect wife.”

he lingers, dragging his tongue through your folds, slow and deliberate, like he’s memorizing every shiver, every pulse, his eyes never leaving yours, watching your face crumple, your breath turn to pants, your body melt against the wall. he sucks your clit again, long and deep, then flicks his tongue, quick and merciless, until you’re trembling, your thighs clamping around his head, your ring catching the light as your fingers dig into the tiles.

“toru,” you gasp, half a moan, half a plea, and he hums, a teasing vibration against your slit, his eyes glinting with mischief as he pushes you further, his nose rubbing your clit, his tongue plunging deep, sloppy and unhinged, spit pooling under him like a testament to his greed.

satoru pulls back for a breath, just to grin, lips glossy, spit dripping down his chin, and dives back in, tongue flicking fast, then slow, teasing until you’re gasping, shaking, your mind a haze of heat and want, his gaze burning into you like he’s etching your ruin into his soul.

he keeps going, licking deeper, slower, his tongue tracing every curve, every sensitive spot, sucking your clit until you’re a trembling wreck, your mind blank, your protests gone, your body a live wire under his touch. his fingers pump steady, wet and loud, curling just right, and he’s moaning, groaning, face buried like he’s drowning in you, his eyes still fixed on yours, watching every twitch, every gasp, every shudder, like he’s collecting every moment of your unraveling.

“fall apart for me,” he murmurs, voice low and teasing, lips brushing your slit, his gaze searing into you as he sucks hard, pushing you closer, his nose nuzzling your clit, his tongue a relentless storm, spit and slick dripping down his throat, his chest, his shirt a ruined mess.

when you come, your vision whites out, body convulsing against the wall, pleasure slamming through you like a tidal wave, fierce and unstoppable. your thighs clamp around his head, slick gushing from you in a messy, uncontrollable squirt, soaking his face, his chin, dripping down his neck in glistening rivulets.

satoru doesn’t falter, licking you through it, drinking every pulse, every drop, his tongue sloppy, ravenous, moaning louder than your cries, his eyes still locked on yours, watching every jerk, every gasp, every shudder, like he’s carving your ecstasy into his very being. his hands tighten on your hips, steadying you as your legs buckle, his fingers digging in just enough to anchor you, his ring cool against your fevered skin.

his face is a wreck—lips swollen, chin drenched, spit and slick dripping down his throat, his chest, his shirt a soaked ruin, hair a sweaty tangle plastered to his forehead. he doesn’t stop, tongue flicking over your oversensitive clit, a teasing, relentless swirl that pulls a whimper from you, your body twitching under the too-much, too-good sting of overstimulation.

he hums, a low, greedy sound, lips grazing your pulsing folds, drawing out every last shiver until you’re a trembling, breathless mess. he pulls back, panting, face flushed, and kisses your thigh, soft, lingering, his breath hot against your skin, his lips leaving a faint, wet mark like a whispered promise.

satoru reaches for the test, picking it up with shaky, slick fingers, holding it to the light. a pout forms, dramatic and teasing, his lips jutting out, but his eyes glint, playful, promising more. “negative,” he sighs, voice soft, mock-sulky, but that spark in his eyes says he’s already itching for another round of “trying.” “guess we’ll keep trying, huh, sweet girl?”

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risuola · 9 months ago

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FEELIN' LUCKY || GETO SUGURU

Suguru has a reputation of a playboy — and rightfully so. He likes to change girls, bedding them as he pleases. He thinks he can have them all. He's a player, a red flag and you show him he's wrong. It's a story about a boy who has everything but craves to have you.

contains: frat boy!suguru x nerdy!reader, pining, maybe a little slowburn-ish, flirting, smut (unprotected sex, some body worship, mentions of hooking up, booty calls, sexting), wc. 9420 ⋯ reader discretion is advised

kinktober '24 masterlist || art in the header: @/chu-cho on tumblr

Suguru knows how to navigate around the campus. He’s tried all the shortcuts, been on all the parties, talked (and fought) with all the teachers. He’s known around — troublemaker, a frat boy, a heartbreaker. It’s no news to anyone that Suguru Geto is a red flag personified; a ladies’ man, playing with every beauty he deems worthy of attention. And he’s lucky too, girls tend to love him, all of them. After all, bad girls love bad boys and good girls, unfortunately, do too. He’s a flame that attracts all the moths, a sin that tempts and renders every heart helpless. He’s a siren song luring women towards their doom. The ultimate playboy, reveling in the attention he gets everywhere he shows up, soaking it up like a cat basking in the sun.

It’s unfair, he jokes sometimes, when he aims to add another notch to his bedpost. Unfair how easy it is for him to have what he wants, how all that meets his gaze is heart-eyes and flushed cheeks. But he likes it, he likes to take, he likes to be wanted and pick from the crowd. It boosts his ego. He is, after all, drop dead gorgeous. He is, truly, with his long, raven hair and purple glint to his eyes, all surrounded by an air of sexy danger coming from his piercings, his clothes and the way he acts.

“Who’s that?” He wonders, mind rushing through the extensive catalogue of female students he knows. “She’s new.” Clearly. He doesn’t know you yet.

You’re pretty, too pretty for him to let you go just like that. You came to the party at the frat house, but you don’t seem to fit right in. Maybe you’re a transfer student? Or a friend of someone? It doesn’t look like you’re someone’s girlfriend. A man that’s sane would not let you wander around such place alone. Not in that dress. You’re gorgeous, breathtaking. You make Suguru’s heart beat a little bit faster, his pulse quickening and he can hear it in his ears, a steady thump echoing over the sound of music. It’s excitement — something he has not felt in a long time.

His friends say something. He’s not listening, eyes laser focused on you and only you. You move with grace, your hips sway from side to side like a pendulum as you find your way through the crowded living room. Your cup is empty, it’s clear from the way you tap it with your fingernail every time someone tries to stop you — you’re pointing on it, gesturing your intentions as you try to speak over the loud music and blurring chatter. You seem polite too, the way you smile brightens the area. He likes how it reaches your eyes, how your nose scrunches a little and the skin near your temples crinkle. Everything about you is hypnotizing, you know what you’re doing. You have to know what you’re doing. You’re magnetic and he wouldn’t be able to resist even if he wanted to.

He doesn’t.

You push through the crowd and Suguru follows, a predator stalking its prey. You are, after all, like a sweet little rabbit tonight. His eyes never leave your back, watching the way your hair sways and bounces with each step you take, how the fabric of your dress hugs your delectable curves. You look soft, he’d love to touch you, to squeeze those plush thighs, to feel the pliable flesh of your rear, to have your chest squeezed against the hard planes of his muscular torso. He wonders how soft your skin is under the fabric, if it’s smooth and warm to touch. He wants to find out, to explore every inch of it until he maps out every mole, scar and birthmark. He licks his lips subconsciously, his tongue swiping over the piercing in his lower lip and he wonders if you’d like it — if the cold metal decorating his mouth would be something you’re into.

He catches you in the kitchen. You’re holding a can of strawberry flavored soda and looking around, and he knows what you’re searching for. “Hey there, beautiful,” he greets smoothly, flashing you a smile that’s known for making girls weak in the knees. “Allow me,” he reaches, taking the cold metal from your hands — his fingers brush against yours as your eyes met, the touch lingering a little longer than necessary but he’s content as he swiftly opens the can for you, earning himself a chuckle.

He’s already got you.

“Thank you,” you smile, taking the drink back and filling your cup with the pinkish liquid. It smells sweet, the delicate aroma of artificial fruit breaking through the typical mixture of sweat and alcohol that fills the room. It’s refreshing, the scent, the look of bubbles dancing at the edges of your cup. You take a sip, tasting the flavor on your tongue and he wants to try it too. From your lips, preferably. Those glistening, cherry-colored lips. Oh, you look delectable.

“I’m Suguru,” he grins again, his eyes scanning your breathtaking features and committing the picture to memory. “I don’t think we’ve met before.” He already envisions you below him.

“I doubt that too,” you nod and you know he’s attracted to you. It’s clear from the way he looks at you, eats you with his eyes only. Obvious from how his gaze lingers on your lips a little longer than he should but you allow him. You introduce himself too and he repeats, testing the name on his tongue.

“What brings a gorgeous woman like you to our little shindig?” He extends his hand out to shake yours, his thumb brushing over your delicate skin as his touch lingers.

“I got invited by one of my friends but I can’t seem to find her in this crowd. I’m sure she’s having fun somewhere though, it’s alright,” you explain, briefly looking over the students crowded in the main area of the house. Most of them are drunk already despite the quite early hour but you don’t mind it. A frat party is exactly what you expected it to be. “I wouldn’t honestly dare to call this a little shindig.”

Suguru chuckles lowly, the sound rumbling in his chest. “Well, I suppose ‘little’ was an understatement,” he grins and sips on his own drink. “How do you like it so far? Do you enjoy the mingling masses and blasting music or maybe I could steal you away? My room is just upstairs.” His eyes flick down to your lips once more before meeting your gaze again, a hint of mischief dancing in their violet depths. One step closer and he’s invading your personal space just slightly. “Because I could show you a good time, if you’d like. Just the two of us, away from all that noise and chaos,” he finishes a little quieter, a little lower. His tone is meant to seduce, to tempt you and he knows it always works. In his mind, he’s already alone with you, he imagines tracing your curves as he trails kisses along your jawline. His touch feels electric against your skin and you have to give him that — he sure does know how to get the attention he wants.

“I appreciate the offer, but I came here for the noise and the chaos,” you reply, smiling as your hand finds his wrist in a gentle caress meant to put some distance between his fingertips and your skin. “It’s not every day I get to attend a party such as this one,” that said, you’re ready to retract when his free hand meets the curve of your hip. You hear a hum and he’s suddenly much closer, you feel his breath on your lips, a mixture of mint and something strongly alcoholic. A little sweet too. A coke, maybe. There’s warmth bouncing off of him, one that you feel tingling on your skin when he leans down to meet your height. The tip of his nose teases yours before it moves to the side, running over the lines of your cheekbone.

“Are you sure?” He asks, smirking as he waits for your resolve to crumble. Not a single girl before you had resisted his charms and you surely are not going to be the first. He enjoys the challenge you present. Most girls would have melted under his touch but you remain composed. He likes that. He likes a woman who knows what she wants. “We could make our own noise, create our own chaos.”

“I’m content with all that’s happening here,” you hum, slipping out of his embrace. “Thank you for the company, Suguru. It was nice to meet you,” and you’re gone.

He stands there, dumbfounded. He stands there, once more looking at your back and he cannot believe what happened. A bunny that slipped from the hands of a wolf, girl that rejected Suguru’s charms, A moth that said no to the flames of his lust. A challenge he’s not going to pass on.

He smirks.

Before, he just wanted to have you.

Now, he has to have you.

And he will do whatever it takes.

Over the next weeks, Suguru has not given up. He hasn’t been able to get you out of his head, his interest in you hasn’t diminished; if anything, it’s grown stronger with each passing day. He’s determined to unravel the enigma that is you, to uncover the secrets hidden behind your captivating eyes and sweet smile. There’s something about you that made him desperate. A mystery he cannot quite unravel, a puzzle he can’t solve. And he thinks of you. He finds himself lost in thoughts of you more often than he’d care to admit. He spots you around campus occasionally, always looking effortlessly stunning and each time, he feels that familiar pull, that undeniable attraction that draws him to you.

Maybe it’s him, who’s the moth.

He doesn’t like this. How you always brush his advances off, how sweetly you smile while doing so. Every time he wants to touch you, you slip right through his fingers. You have tainted him with longing he has never felt before, you ruined him. He doesn’t want other women anymore, the line of booty-calls and flings blocked and removed from his phone. The nights he spends thinking of you, fucking his fist and swearing to all gods above and below to change, asking for a chance to sink his teeth into you. Because he doesn’t want anyone else. And he doesn’t know what you have done to him.

“Fancy seeing you there,” he remarks, settling himself beside you on the bench outside the library. The afternoon is particularly sunny, warmth caressing your skin as you sit comfortably, engrossed in a book. “Mind if I join you?” He asks, but he doesn’t wait for the response, as he leans over to glance at the title of your read. “Ah, philosophy. A deep thinker, huh? I like that.”

“Do you?” You ask, nudging a bookmark between the pages. “You don’t strike me as a philosophical type. You seem to me more of a live-in-the-moment kinda guy.”

He chuckles. “You’d be surprised,” he replies, his tone light and teasing, “there’s more to me than just good looks and undeniable charm. Although, I won’t deny that those are pretty great assets,” he winks playfully. Suguru leans back on the bench, stretching his long legs out in front of him. The ripped, black denim exposes a bit of his thigh, the ink of his tattoos peeking through the dark threads, drawing your attention.

“Oh, the confidence. It’s much more valuable trait than the outside looks,” you hum, leaning against the backrest too.

Geto laughs, a rich, warm sound that carries easily in the quiet outdoor setting. Then, he turns to face you fully, his expression turning serious for a moment. “But you’re right, I’m not usually one for heavy books and deep discussions. I prefer to keep things light and fun.” It’s a confession, he admits to it with a hint of vulnerability that’s quickly pushed behind his typical grin. “Besides, a guy can learn a thing or two from a smart, beautiful woman like yourself.” He flirts, but there’s an underlying sincerity to his words. He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a murmur. “Tell me, what’s so captivating about this particular tome? What insights does it hold to have captured your attention so thoroughly?”

“It’s a tale of a man discovering what really matters in modern life, a story of loss and reconciliation. The narrator, whose days are counted due to sudden diagnosis, meets the Devil who offers him an extra day of life in exchange of making one thing in the world disappear,” you explain briefly and he watches your fingers dancing over the front cover of the book, tracing the lines of the simple graphic of a cat. “There comes the question, how do you separate out what you can do without from what you hold dear? I think it’s something we don’t pay much attention to in our lives because we have everything within reach, but what if something just… disappeared? The narrator has to take responsibility for each one of his decisions. There’s no going back, there never will be, once a thing is gone, it’s gone.”

Suguru listens intently, his expression thoughtful as he absorbs your words. “That’s quite… It makes you think, doesn’t it?” He muses, nodding slowly. “It makes you wonder what you’d choose to erase if given a chance to live just a day longer.”

“The question of how to decide what’s okay to remove and what’s not is what makes me think the most,” you look up. The day is beautiful today, fluffy clouds travel sparsely over the azure blue sky, the sun warms your skin with its golden rays and the birds sing, hidden within the crowns of the nearby trees. You hear some chatter, somewhere from the distance where other students pass by, you hear the cars that honk impatiently as they stand in the traffic and you hear a dog barking. There’s a park not far away. “Some things that are insignificant to me might be the entire world to someone else.”

“So you think the burden of consequences might outweigh the price of life itself,” he notes, his eyes studying the lines of your profile. Your eyes, reflecting the blue of the sky, your cheeks flushed from the wind and sunrays. He thinks the color of your scarf makes your complexion looks brighter. “I don’t know if I would be capable of eradicating something from the world permanently. At first, I thought it might be easy, just get rid of something small and simple, but then it made me wonder if things I think are unimportant, truly are so.”

Truth is, Suguru doesn’t think he would dwell much about the topic if not you, but he wonders what if. What if he made a decision that would cause a war? Or someone else’s loss? What if a thing that he picks results in him not meeting you?

“That’s what philosophy does to you,” you chuckle, turning your gaze back to him, just to meet his eyes glued to yourself.

“But maybe that’s what makes life worth living,” he turns to you fully, his eyes wondering as he drops his usual playfulness and mischief. “It’s much easier to pretend we have control over our lives and the world around us rather than confront the harsh truth that we are all just tiny cogs in a vas, unpredictable machine. But maybe it’s the uncertainty, the constant surprises, the knowledge that anything can change in an instant what makes the journey worth the effort.”

“Maybe it is,” you nod, taking a moment to let his words sink in. “I wouldn’t expect you to engage in topics such as this. I apologize,” you offer a smile and he melts.

“You know, most people assume I’m just a pretty face. They don’t expect me to have substance beneath the surface,” he muses, his expression turning thoughtful before he lets out a breathy chuckle. “I guess I do give them the reasons to do so. But I really enjoy talking to you. It’s nice to have conversations that aren’t just surface-level flirting and innuendos. There’s just something about you...” He trails off, reaching out tentatively, brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear. His fingers linger against your skin for a moment before falling away. “I like how you challenge me, make me think deeper than I usually do. You are a puzzle I can’t wait to solve.” His gaze locks with yours, his expression open and vulnerable in a way you haven’t seen from him before. “Can I see you again? Like this, I mean. Just talking, getting to know each other better.”

The question hangs heavy in the air as you consider it. You will meet him again, one way or another, somewhere around the campus or at another frat party. You will see him again as he targets another girl, flirting his way into another pair of panties. And you exhale, your lips curving upwards slightly as you lean your head on your fist, elbow on your knee.

“Suguru,” you begin, his name slipping over your tongue with ease you enjoy. But you know better than this. You have seen it all too well how he treats women. “I enjoy conversing with you and if it’s just talk that you want from me, then I will find time to meet you again. But I need you to know that I will not allow myself to be another notch on your bedpost. It’s easy to get swayed by your charms, but I know your reputation and I know it for sure that if I had to give up one thing in the world, it would never be self-respect.”

And he knows for sure that if he had to give up romance for the rest of his life just to have you, he wouldn’t think twice about it.

“I don’t want to charm my way between your legs,” he swears, too quickly, too desperate to make himself believable and he groans, annoyed by his own self. He nervously runs his hand through his dark, raven hair. “Just, please, give me a chance. I won’t lie to your face and say that I’m suddenly ready to settle down or that I’m done sowing my wild oats entirely. I know what kind of reputation I have and I can’t deny that I’ve played the field more times than I can count. I’ve earned it fair and square,” he admits, his voice tinged with a hint of bitterness. All of the lustful nights flashed before his eyes, the nameless girls, the empty promises and unanswered calls afterwards. All the nudes, all the sexts, all the quickies in the locker rooms and dingy bathrooms. Suguru would give them all away if only earned a chance to be with you. “I want to change. I already started to change. You don’t have to believe me right away, but you are different. From the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew there was something special about you. And I won’t lie that I’m not attracted to you physically. That would be impossible. But there’s more to it than that. Something worth pursuing beyond just a one-night stand.”

“And what change are you talking about?” You quiz. “Because as far as I am concerned, I’ve seen you flirting with some girls just yesterday.”

And he winces, unable to deny your accusation. “You’re right, I did flirt with them. It’s become a second nature to me, a habit I can’t seem to break easily.” He sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair once more, frustrated. “But it didn’t go further than talk. I didn’t… I’ve stopped sleeping around. I blocked and removed all the girls’ numbers from my phone, deleted the pictures I had. Fuck, I even declined an invitation for a party with my pals, for the first time since high school. Look,” he leans in, his eyes locked with yours and his hand finds yours. You feel his thumb rubbing soft circles on your knuckles and you wonder if it’s to soothe you or himself. “Being with you, talking to you… it’s opened my eyes to what I have been missing out on. I’ve spent so long chasing meaningless encounters, never allowing myself to form real connections with anyone and now, I’ve tasted something more substantial and realized just how hollow my previous pursuits have been. I want to do better. For you, yes, but also for myself. I want to prove to you that I’m capable of more than just cheap thrills and empty promises.”

It’s true, everything he says. He is ready to drop the player mask, to shed his frat repute just to have a chance at something real, something that makes his heart flutter in his chest and his stomach bubble with butterflies. He is ready to say no to easy sex just to fight for your attention, your touch, your heart.

He is genuine, but you just hum, your expression unreadable as you weigh your next words. You like him desperate. You like how his violet eyes sparkle with puppy-like vulnerability rather than a flirty mischief. And he is beautiful, you cannot deny it — a man of impressive built, clad in ripped jeans and leather, heavy boots and a band tee. He looks like he bites, and you know he does. You take in the sight of his piercings, the large gauges, the snake bites in his lower lip, the piercing across the bridge of his nose, right between his captivating eyes and the one right above his left brow. You wonder what kissing him would feel like. Would the metal come in the way? Or maybe it would add to the experience?

“I’m not sure what to tell you,” you sigh. “I will give you a chance if you think you can change. But you’ll need to prove it. Think about it.”

And he did.

The lonely nights he spends at the frat house, laying in bed instead of partying with his friends, he wonders where the path of his change will lead him. What if it’s him, confronting the devil and having a chance to lose himself just to earn a day with you? He thinks he’d take it. He’s sure he would. He flips on the mattress, his eyes squinting as the lights from his phone blinded him with a new message. An unknown number. He opens it, it’s a picture, a bare body that he recognizes by the butterfly tattoo on the ribcage. A nude from one of his exes. She must have gotten a new number because he remembers vividly how he blocked her. Usually, he wouldn’t think twice about it, he’d reply with something cheeky, possibly send an explicit picture of himself, maybe set up a meeting or invite her over. His fingers typed the message before his brain managed to intervene and once he hit ‘send’, he cursed out loud.

“Fuck, you idiot!”

A pillow flew across the room as he stared at the ceiling. Would it hurt to go once more with no strings attached? It’s been some time since he’s gotten laid and the vision of tension coming off of him was a temptation beyond measure. But what about you? What about a change he had promised?

Is the change even for him?

Suguru stares at his phone screen, the message he sent glowing mockingly back at him, a shameful reminder of his weak self-restraint. The girl already replied, they always reply so fast, and he doesn’t know what to do. He knows he fucked up, he knows he shouldn’t have responded. He shouldn’t have even entertained the idea of hooking up with his ex, or any other girl. It goes against everything he told you, everything he promised.

With a heavy sigh, he tosses his phone aside, despite the notifications flooding his inbox. More pictures, the location, the time — an annoying ding makes his blood boil and he groans, burying his face in his hands. He feels conflicted, torn between his desire for physical release and growing feelings for you. He wants to be better, to be the man you deserve, to be the man that deserves you. He wants to prove to you that he’s serious about changing, but old habits die hard. The temptation is still there, lurking in the shadows of his mind, waiting for a split second of vulnerability.

He tosses and turns in bed. His thoughts race with the pictures of you, his mind replaying every conversation, every shared laugh and stolen touch. He remembers the way your eyes sparkled when you discussed philosophy, the passion in your voice as you told him about the importance of self-respect. He realizes that those moments were more fulfilling than any other fleeting pleasure he’s experienced before.

But he gets up anyway, he pulls up his dark-washed jeans and a hoodie, socks and boots and he’s ready to go. With a jacket grabbed in the hallway and a phone in his hand, he leaves the house. The crisp air of near winter hits him the moment he steps outside, cooling the blood in his veins and clearing his thoughts.

12 unread messages.

He groans again, this time into the nightly silence as he strides through the pavement, legs leading him in the direction of his doom. Suguru slips the earphones in, plays on the music but the melody and lyrics are helpless against the chaos in his mind.

It’s pointless, to resist his own body. He knows it’s pointless, he knows he has control over his legs and deep down he knows he would reject the booty call if he truly wanted. You deserve a better man anyway, not a player that fucks around like it’s a sport. You deserve someone who would worship the ground you walk on, a man of culture and manners with whom you’d engage in long, deep conversations late in the evenings, not a man-boy who cannot control his own dick. But fuck, does he wants you.

He wants you so bad, he wants to be all those things for you. He wants those discussions about philosophy and life, he wants to kiss your knuckles and be the knight in the shining armor, carrying you in his arms and shielding you from the world and assholes such as himself.

He lights up the cigarette, taking a deep breath in and looking up. The night is pretty. Calm. He wonders if you are already sleeping. Or maybe it’s one of those nights that you pull in order to study and secure your grades. The semester just began but he learned it already that you care about your future more than he does about his own. You’re a little nerdy. He thinks it’s cute. He can imagine himself wrapping a blanket around your shoulders when it’s late and carrying you to bed when you’re falling asleep on top of the books and notes. You would fit perfectly in his arms.

“You fucking moron,” he slanders himself quietly, already seeing the motel in front of him. He shouldn’t be there but he moves forward anyway. He knows his ex is already waiting for him, he can tell by the lights in the room they always used to book for the casual encounters. He stops before he enters, giving the smoke few more moments to burn. He can feel it in his lungs, somehow calming as he checks his phone, scrolling through the notifications.

One of the messages is from you.

It’s innocent in the sea of suggestive texts. There’s an apology for the late hour and a book title that you promised to send him a day before. The one you’ve been reading for the last few days and the one that made him rethink his entire life’s choices. There’s not much substance in the message, but it shakes him awake.

The turn he takes is aggressive, it’s resolute. Heavy boots thudding against the concrete panels as he walks away from the motel. ‘Sorry, not coming.’ He sends the message and blocks the number, feeling lighter the second he removes the nude picture and the unwanted contact.

It takes just an hour before he knocks at your door, the dormitory silent in the nightly time so he keeps himself quiet. You open after a long moment, dressed in a make-shift pajama. He likes the way your hair is messy from the pillows, how you smell like vanilla and flowers and coffee. You look so pretty like this, so undone, so unexpecting yet not entirely disappointed to see him. You seem… content?

“Suguru?” His name comes from your mouth and you usher him inside, afraid of someone seeing him. Once the doors shut behind him, your eyes search him for answers.

“Brought you some food, I thought you might need it,” he grinned, showing off the box of pizza and a bottle of soda. “I figured you’re studying tonight and might need some fuel.”

“So thoughtful,” you tease, but the smile that shapes your mouth reaches your eyes, so he knows it’s genuine. He follows you to your bedroom and he’s not surprised seeing the notes all over your bed and scattered on the floor. The papers full of sparsely highlighted knowledge that you want to transfer into your brain take most of the space before you gather them onto a neat pile. He sits right there, on the newly uncovered spot on your mattress. It feels intimate, to be in your room, to rest on your bed, to see you in your pajama. He wonders if you know what the sight of your thighs does to him, the plush, tender flesh begging to be touched, kissed and kneaded. Suguru thinks your skin would look beautiful with bitemarks all over.

“So, pizza,” he clears his throat after letting his eyes linger for way too long on your bare legs. “I took pepperoni, I hope you like it.”

“It’s perfect,” you smile and separate the barely cut pieces for easier access. “I appreciate the thought, really. But there was no need for you to leave the house just to do this.”

“For you, I would do it at every hour,” he says and then sighs deeply. “But truth is, I didn’t plan this.” Suguru feels like he’s inside the confessional. It’s a foreign tension, completely different from the one he felt just hour before. The knot in his stomach has nothing to do with lust and desire and all to do with stress and regret. “I’ve received a booty-call from my ex. That’s why I left the house,” he spats it out quickly, thinking it’ll hurt less if he does it in rush. “I didn’t go there though. I told her I’m not coming, blocked the number and came here instead.”

You stay neutral, chewing on the pizza as your tired eyes size him up. “Old habits die hard, huh?” You mock, slightly amused by his tormented expression. His eyebrow creases before he lets himself drop back onto the mattress, a soft grunt escaping his mouth as he covers his face with his hands.

“I meant it. I want to change and I’m working on it.” He says, his voice quiet and devoid of his usual cheekiness. “I fucked up when I entertained the idea of hooking up with a random person tonight but cut me some slack, I didn’t do it.”

“Good boy,” you mock-praise and he groans again, but then his entire body tenses when you lay next to him. He feels your breath against his cheek, the tip of your nose prodding the flesh. He doesn’t move, too afraid to ruin the moment. “Do you regret it? Not going, I mean. Be honest, don’t say what I want to hear.”

“I don’t,” he replies, his tone resolute. “I don’t regret not meeting my ex and not having sex tonight. I was pent up — fuck me, I still am, and when I replied to her text, I didn’t think much about anything except for my dick. But I don’t regret not going because I didn’t want to go. And I’m grateful that you texted me because you reminded me what really is important. Right now, it’s you.”

It makes you smile. He’s torn inside of his mind but you take it as a win anyway. Before, Suguru wouldn’t second-guess pulling his pants down and now you made him think. Now, you made him reconsider; wonder who he is without the façade of the charismatic ladies’ man. He will have to learn to navigate social situations without relying solely on his charm and wit to get what he wants. But he can do this. For you.

Before he speaks again, you’re asleep already. Sideways on the bed, most likely uncomfortable but right next to him and he doesn’t dare to move a muscle in his body. You’re sleeping, your face just an inch from his own. The soft fragrance of your skin fills in his nostrils and not even the smell of pizza nearby can disturb it. There’s a hair somewhere around his face, he doesn’t know if it’s yours or his own, but it tickles his cheek every time you exhale. It’s fine.

An hour passes and he finally gathers the courage to shift, as carefully as he can, he turns to his side, to face you. You’re a vision he takes in with his eyes wide open, committing the picture of your peaceful expression to memory. He likes everything about you, every hair of your eyebrows, every freckle and beauty mark. He likes the way you look so unbothered, so comfortable next to him. He wants to touch you. Oh, how much he craves to caress your cheek, to thread his fingers through your hair. His heart thumps in his chest, reaching speeds matching those of sprinters. The feeling is foreign. Is this…? It cannot be. Suguru Geto is not about… that. His entire life he believed he’s meant to have fun, no strings attached, no responsibilities. What did you do to him?

You move and he stops breathing. It’s an instinct, he thinks, that you shift closer to him, but he tells himself you want that. And you fit so well against his chest, your head below his chin, your hand around his middle. The room spins and he wraps you in the embrace of his arms.

He feels your heartbeat, the gentle rise and fall of your breathing and suddenly, he calms down. It sinks into his mind that it’s where he wants to be. All the years of empty flings, the mediocre orgasms, the shameless pursuits could never compare to the feeling of you in his arms. That’s what he has been missing on. And he will do everything to be the man deserving of you.

Time passes, and Suguru slowly falls into the rhythm of his newfound resolve. It’s easy to decline hookup invitations when he can spend time with you, but maybe he did feel a little too confident when he decided to attend the big, annual party at the frat house. It’s Halloween, after all, how could he not go there when everyone will come? Quickly he falls into familiar routine of charms and alcohol, nursing a beer from a red plastic cup and chatting playfully with attractive attendees. His friends push him towards temptation, inviting more and more girls to the crowd and Suguru feels drawn to the lively atmosphere, the flirtatious banter comes as easy as breathing.

That is, before a pretty sophomore dressed in a devil costume takes a seat next to him — a seat he has kept for you, because you promised you’ll come, despite the need to study. It’s fine if the girl sits there for a moment or two, he thinks, as he engages in a conversation. He knows, it’s as obvious as day, that the second-year beauty is interested in getting into his pants — her hand on his thigh, the fluttering eyelashes and pouty lips say everything about her intentions. As the night progresses, he finds himself more and more… uncomfortable. Surprisingly.

And so, he feels relieved when he sees you in the crowd, late but looking absolutely adorable in your sweet bunny costume. It’s simple yet makes his pants grow tighter as he takes in the way the plain black dress hugs your curves. The fluffy tail bounces with each step you take through the filled living area and the long, pink-lined ears swing just slightly along with your hair whenever you move your head around, looking for something — for him and his heart skips a beat. In that moment, everything fades away — the raucous laughter, the pulsing music, even the sophomore girl next to him.

Excusing himself from company, he forces a smile as he brushes the invasive hand off his thigh and gets up from the sofa, making his way over to you. “Hey there, cutie,” he greets, pulling you into a hug and you melt into his chest in an instant. “Glad you could make it.” He breathes in your scent, letting it calm his nerves but it does little to calm other things down. Fuck, you look perfect.

“How could I miss my favorite frat boy sporting a vampire costume?” You quiz, backing up a little to take in his attire. He’s wearing all black, a dress shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest, pants that make his legs look even longer than they are. His eyes are smudged with little bit of black eyeliner but it works for him, he looks sexy. “Aren’t you a pretty one. I might consider letting you bite me,” you tease, and he knows you’re joking but it doesn’t stop the blood in his body to travel downwards.

“Careful what you wish for, bunny,” he muses, “I might just take you up on that offer and sink my teeth into that delectable neck of yours.” His fingers intertwine with yours as he lifts your hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to your knuckles before he leads your arm up onto his shoulder. “God, I missed you,” he murmurs as he lowers his head, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

He feels you chuckle, your nails scratching at his scalp as you thread your fingers through his dark locks. Once more you proved him that the change is worth it, because it’s you who’s on the line. “Dance with me?” He asks and you move with him towards the makeshift dancefloor.

Suguru pulls you closer as you enter the rhythm of the music, one hand resting on the small of your back while the other twirls you around gracefully. You’re giggling, amused by the undivided attention he pays you — he’s sweet when he has his eyes on the target, when he has to work for something. He dips you dramatically and your hand tighten on his shoulder, but it’s secure, the way he holds you as if he wished to protect you from all the bad in the world. His eyes lock with yours as he pulls you back up, flush against him. The heat radiating off both your bodies mingles together, creating an intoxicating aura that threatens to consume you whole.

You don’t really listen to what’s playing, a melody mellows in the background as his hands trace patterns along your sides and hips, follow the line of your spine, sometimes teasing the fluffy ball that is your tail. His touch ignites sparks wherever he grazes, leaving trails of fire in its wake. He’s hungry, for you, and you are too. It’s hard to deny it any longer and you think that maybe, just maybe he is ready to commit to something more than just a fleeting romance. It’s been months since he began pursuing you and his attention has been focused solely on you, despite the obstacles and temptations of his life. A reward wouldn’t hurt now, would it?

“I need a drink,” you tell him and he’s quick to react, taking your hand and leading the way towards the kitchen. He knows what you like, snatching a can of strawberry soda from the counter. When you nod in approval, he opens it, too hasty, too eager, that he doesn’t realize the way it bubbles over, spilling over the aluminum container and his fingers. Before he can react, your lips are already on his skin, licking away the sticky trail of pinkish liquid.

Suguru freezes as he feels your tongue glide across his skin, tasting the sweetness of the spilled soda. A shiver runs down his spine at the sensation, his breath hitching in his throat. Desire darkens his eyes, pupils dilate as he watches, transfixed, how you lick the sugary mess from his fingers. The sensation sends jolts of electricity coursing through his veins, pooling in the pit of his stomach. He breathes out your name, but you’re quick to shut him up.

You pull him down, your hand in his hair as you press your lips to his own. He tastes the strawberry sweetness of the soda on your tongue as it dances with his own, the flavor mixing deliciously with the taste of you. The dripping can is soon forgotten on the fake-marble countertop as he scoops you closer, arms wrapping around your waist securely. He can feel the heat of your body through the thin fabric of your costume, the softness of your curves molding perfectly against the hardness of his muscles. He’s eager, he moans lightly into your mouth, the sound vibrating against your lips. You feel the cold metal rubbing against your face, it’s interesting, it’s addicting. You like it.

“Always wanted to try that,” he pants out when for a moment you pull back. He chases your mouth, hungry for more, desperate.

“The soda?” You ask, pressing soft pecks to his pout.

“You.” He lounges forward once again, unsatiated and you don’t stop him. You don’t hear music anymore, all that’s rumbling in your ear is the sound of your heartbeat. You feel the heat in your veins, the flooding of ecstasy filling your cells one by one. There’s no space left between you, but you take a step forward anyway. You feel his hips rolling, a desperate cry for any sort of friction and when you slip your hand down, palming his groin through his pants, he groans into your mouth as his hips buck involuntarily into your touch. “Please,” he begs, eyes locking with yours as he leans his forehead against your own. He can feel himself throbbing beneath the confines of his pants, straining desperately for more of your attention. “You want me too, please tell me you do. I can’t… It hurts, I crave you so much, it hurts.”

“Let’s get out of here,” you murmur. “Your room is upstairs, isn’t it?”

“It is,” he breathes out. “But I won’t take you there. You deserve better than this place and my filthy bed. Let me take you to my apartment.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer and you follow him anyway, your hand incased in his large one, sticky from the spilled soda but none of you seem to care as you saunter through the dancing crowd of young people. Just to get outside.

The walk is a blur, you don’t remember much of it and so does Suguru. The night air is crisp, sending chills down your spine and the boy teases you about it, promising all the warmth he can produce in just few moments. You laugh with him, unbothered by the cool wind that tousles your hair. “It’s just around the corner,” he promises and you hum, matching his pace as he leads you through the neon-lit streets of Tokyo. The world blur into nothing, all you see is the man that holds your hand, the blue-ish hint to his hair whenever the lights fall on it just right, the sticky heat of his palm. You can still smell the faint strawberry aroma; you can definitely feel it on your tongue even though you didn’t manage to truly take a sip of it.

And you laugh again when he fumbles with the keys to his apartment. “Nervous?” You tease him playfully. “You have no idea,” he replies, smiling sheepishly and the entry finally swings open. He ushers you inside, kicking the door shut behind him and flicking the lights on.

Suguru wastes no time, pulling you flush against him once more as he presses you against the nearest wall, his lips finding yours in a heated kiss. His hands roam your body greedily, mapping out every dip and curve, learning the shape of you and you do the same. He shrugs the jacket off and you’re quick to explore the broad lines of his shoulders, the hard muscles of his chest and stomach. You feel him everywhere, the hungry touch devouring every inch of your form. He breaks the kiss, trailing his lips down the column of your neck, sucking and biting the sensitive skin and you whimper breathily — the sound undeniably similar to his own name.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, guiding him lower as he reaches your chest. His kisses grow more wet and delicate as he meets the soft mounds of your breasts, tightly confined by the neckline of your dress. He breaths in your scent, an intoxicating mixture of sweet and floral. It makes his head spin, it’s addicting. He wants more.

It’s easy to slip the dress off of you — first the straps and then the garment goes down, inch by inch revealing the smooth expanse of your skin to his starved gaze. He drinks in the sight of you, his eyes roaming hungrily over the newly exposed flesh and in that moment he swears he has never seen a more beautiful woman in his entire life. His fingers skim along the edges of your bra, tracing the lace delicately before he leans in again, kissing your lips with softness that speaks more than any words could. He wants you, but he wants to worship you. He doesn’t want to make it all about lust and desire, he wants to make it about you and him. About whatever is this feeling that bubbles between you.

And so, he moves down slowly, lips mapping out the curve of your collarbone and down the path to your sternum. His hands follow your curves with gentleness he doesn’t recognize in himself. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, his hot breath meeting the skin of your stomach, “just breathtaking,” he lowers himself to his knees — something he has never done in his entire life, used to have women at his feet.

“Suguru,” you breathe out but he doesn’t listen. Not when the skin of your thighs feels so soft against his cheeks, not when it tastes so delicious as he trails wet, open-mouthed kisses along the plush flesh. Your fingernails find a way into his hair and he dives between your legs, encouraging one of them to hook over his shoulder. He savors the scent of you, his nose rubbing against the fabric of your underwear, prodding at the little wet patch. He licks it, his tongue flattening over the cotton, catching a hint of your taste — and that’s enough to make him go crazy for you.

“Fuck, you’re so sweet,” he breathes out, every exhale that meets the wetness of your panties sends jolts of electricity up your spine and back down to your core. He presses his lips to where he thinks your clit is, you feel him sucking gently and it’s enough friction to feel yourself pulsating. You moan quietly, the sound escaping your parted lips easily as your hold on his hair tightens. There’s no denying that you want him just as much as he wants you. He’s desperate but so are you.

Your knee buckle as he continues the torture and he coos sweetly. “Let’s take you to bed, you sweet thing,” his tone is sugary, a melody dripping with honey as he smiles at you in a way that makes you blush. There’s adoration written all over his face, his cheeks are flushed, lips red and glistening. You want to follow him when he stands up, but he swoops you off your feet, carrying you bridal style towards the bedroom. It makes you giggle.

“Practicing already?” You muse and he just smiles.

“Perhaps.”

Your back meets the cold bedspread as he lays you down delicately. No time is wasted before he’s right above you, right on you — you feel the weight of his body pressing you into the mattress. No complains about it. He feels good, his hips rolling in a way that has his bulging erection grind along your panties. You hate the fabrics between you two, you hate how they make you feel less of him.

So you move your hands, slide them between your bodies, fumble with the buttons of his shirt. “Impatient much?” He teases, but helps you, pulling the shirt over his head, saving you trouble of the bottom fasteners. His lips find yours in a kiss that burns and you whimper into it, feeling the warmth spreading all over your body.

You reach down. Button, zipper. Your hands tremble as you push the fabric off his hips and he kicks it down. He helps himself with a hand and soon, his pants are on the ground, along with his socks and your bra, that you impatiently toss away. Suguru’s heart rumbles against his ribcage as he takes in the sight of your bare chest. It’s perfect, you are perfect and he cannot believe the luck he has — after years of chasing simple pleasures and meaningless peaks, he had finally found someone he wants to call his.

He feels your heart underneath his cheek as he leans down, inhaling the scent of your skin — his nose trails patterns over the soft flesh before he presses his lips to it, kissing his way towards one of your nipples. It pebbles beneath his touch, hardening as he latches onto it, sucking and teasing it with teeth, twirling his tongue all around. He matches his ministrations with his fingers, not letting the twin feel left out. Your taste is of pure heaven and the sounds that leave your mouth are ones of an angel.

There’s a patch of wet on his boxers, right where the throbbing head of his cock strains against the fabric — the precum oozing out as he grinds his hips against yours. It makes him insane how you reply with the roll of your own, to match his moves, to cause more of that delicious friction that sends both of you into a spiral of desire.

Unable to wait any longer, you hook your fingers at the waistband of his underwear, tugging it down and Suguru replies with the same — pulling the soaked cotton off of you. He wants to taste you, and he will, but not now. He reaches down, guiding the tip of his cock between the folds of your pussy, the head sliding with ease as your slick mixes with the pearly beads of semen. He loves the way your thighs tremble every time he glides over your sensitive clit, how your breath hitches and eyes close.

“Ready?” The question falls and you nod fervently, your hands finding his shoulders for balance. “Use your words, beautiful.”

“I’m ready,” you assure and then, your back arches off the mattress. He slides in inch by inch, stretching you, filling you so completely, making you go blind for a moment. The pain burns just faintly, losing its flames to the flooding of endorphins and pleasure. He goes in to the hilt, his body shuddering as he drops his head to the crook of your neck.

The feeling overwhelms him. The way your pussy grips him, like a vice that almost pulls him in more and more. It’s delightful. Ecstatic. It’s something he’s never experienced before. Is that what love feels like? He moves, slowly backing his hips until there’s nothing but a tip nestled inside you before he pushes forward again, knocking the air out of your lungs and his own too.

You paw at his arms, his back and chest. You want him closer, you want to feel all of him. Stars are clouding your vision, the world ceases to exist and there’s nothing else in it but you and the man on top of you. He feels so good, like he’s meant to be right there with you and Suguru feels the same. Like he found home, like he belongs there, in the warmth of your embrace, in the tightness of your walls. He loves the way you cling to him, the way your nails dig into his skin and your heels dig into his ass, urging him to go harder, faster. He complies, his hips snapping against yours as the wet sounds of your bodies colliding echo through the room, alongside your moans and gasps.

He changes the angle, shifting his hips to hit that spot inside you that makes the stars glitter before your eyes. He knows he’s found it when your back arches off the bed, your nails scoring down his back and a scream tears from your throat. He loves the sound, he loves the sight. He loves how you come undone, how beautifully blissed out your expression is, how your eyes lock with his even though you see nothing but haze. He grins, a smile lost against your skin as he continues pounding into you relentlessly, chasing his own high. He can feel it already, it threatens to consume him. His balls draw up tight, his heart races in his chest.

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, muffling his groans and whimpers against your tender flesh as his hand grips your hip tightly. You match him thrust for thrust, nails leaving angry red marks in their wake. You feel the pleasure building inside you, coiling tighter and tighter until you feel you might explode. Your walls start to flutter around him to the rhythm of your heartbeat and the desire coursing through your veins.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Suguru gasps, his voice strained with exertion. He knows you’re close, it drives him insane. “I’m gonna—” He cuts himself off with a guttural moan as his climax hits him like a freight train. He follows you into the pit of pure delight, headfirst, no thoughts. Just pure, overwhelming bliss.

He collapses on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, as his hips buck forward few more times, riding out your highs with stuttered thrusts. You both lay there, panting and sweating, basking in the afterglow of passion. His softening cock slips out of you, followed by a gush of combined fluids but none of you worries about the mess, too blissed out to care about a thing.

“Wow,” he breathes, nuzzling his face into your neck, finding your pulse with his lips. “That was incredible.”

You giggle softly, carding your fingers through his sweat-dampened locks. They feel like silk, soft and luxurious. “Mm, it certainly was.”

“I don’t deserve you,” he exhales, rolling off of you and pulling you into his arms. He presses a tender kiss to your temple, marveling at the intimacy of the moment. It feels new, like an uncharted territory that he wants to explore further. With you. “I meant what I said earlier,” he murmurs, his voice barely above whisper and sincere. “I want to be better. To be worthy of you.”

You hum, lifting your head to look at him and all you see in his violet eyes is raw honesty and a depth of emotion that takes your breath away. “I believe you,” you tell him, leaning in to capture his lips in a slow, lingering kiss. There’s no more rush, no more lust — just pure, soft affection. “And I want to help you change. Together, yeah?”

Suguru smiles against our mouth, his heart swelling with love he never knew he was capable of.

Together.

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