#Even the fluff tag is filled with smut

[obito-in-disguise]

Lawd have mercy.

[danysdaughter]

Still Yours

pairing | thunderbolts!bucky x fem!reader

word count | 9.4k words

summary | bucky lets his relationship slip into the background for the sake of duty and public image. but when the distance starts to break them, he realizes he’ll do anything to fight for the love he almost lost.

tags | (18+) MDNI, smut, unprotected sex, p in v, THUNDERBOLTS* SPOILERS, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, soft!bucky, miscommunication, established relationship, mentions of mental health/trauma

a/n | I enjoyed writing this so much omg. an apology for my last angst fest fic, based on this request. just two emotionally constipated dumbasses in love.

likes comments and reblogs are much appreciated ✨✨

ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪs���

divider by @cafekitsune

The first thing you felt was the drag of his mouth along your collarbone—hot, wet, unhurried.

Then his body—solid, heavy, familiar—settled deeper between your thighs, pinning you to the sheets like he belonged there.

Like he knew he belonged there.

“Fuck,” Bucky rasped, hips rolling in slow, punishing thrusts that pulled gasps from your throat. “You feel so good—always feel so fuckin’ good…”

Your legs tightened around his waist, heels pressing into the curve of his ass, urging him deeper.

“You gonna come for me, sweetheart?” he panted, forehead resting against yours. “Come on, I know you’re close.”

You could barely form words. Everything was heat and friction and the slow climb to a peak that had been building for days. He’d been gone—missions, briefings, whatever other bullshit Val had piled on him—and you hadn’t had this, hadn’t had him, in far too long.

Now, you were starving for him.

And from the way he was panting against your mouth, he was just as gone for you.

Bucky’s rhythm faltered for a second—just a split moment—as his cock pulsed deep inside you and he moaned, low and wrecked.

Then—bzzzt.

The phone on the nightstand lit up.

The sound sliced through the heat like cold water.

You groaned, your hands clawing into his shoulders, nails dragging down the flex of his back. “Ignore it,” you muttered, voice thick.

He nodded without looking, mouth already on your throat again. “Wasn’t gonna stop.”

Bzzzt.

He hesitated. You felt the tension in his hips, the shift in his weight. The way his hand twitched like he wanted to grab it—like his fucking conditioning made him twitch toward the sound.

“James,” you growled, pulling his face back to yours. “Focus.”

He smirked—flushed, wild-eyed, strands of hair clinging to his sweat-damp forehead. “Yes, ma’am.”

He rocked back into you, deeper this time, harder. You gasped, arching into him, fingernails biting into his arms.

“You’re such a good girl,” he grunted, “always take me so—”

Bzzzt.

The sound felt louder now.

Persistent.

You tensed beneath him, and he slowed—just a fraction. His head dropped into the crook of your neck, his breath hot and ragged.

You whispered, dangerously low, “James Buchanan Barnes, don’t you dare.”

He paused. Exhaled. “I won’t,” he murmured.

And he didn’t.

Not when you kissed him. Not when your legs tightened around him again, pulling him back into that rhythm. Not when your hips met his in frantic, greedy movement, the sound of skin on skin filling the room.

But then—

Bzzzt. Bzzzt. Bzzzt.

Buzzing. Relentless.

Like it knew it was ruining something.

His rhythm faltered again. Slower this time. His breath hitched.

And you could see it—feel it—his mind slipping.

“Two seconds, baby,” he whispered, barely coherent.

Then he reached.

You froze. Staring.

He reached for the phone.

“For fuck’s sake—” You shoved his chest, hard enough to make him fall back slightly, the weight of him disappearing as you slid out from under him.

“What?” he asked, dazed, already answering the call. “Where’re you going?”

You grabbed your robe from the edge of the bed, slipping it on in one fluid motion, not even sparing him a glance as you stalked toward the kitchen.

“To make a goddamn sandwich,” you snapped over your shoulder.

And then Bucky was left there, shirtless and half-hard, with the call pressed to his ear and the echo of your frustration ringing louder than the goddamn phone ever did.

────────────────────────

The quiet creak of the bedroom door broke through the stillness as you stood at the kitchen counter, barefoot, chewing slowly on the sandwich you’d slapped together out of spite and mild hunger. Your tiny silk robe hugged your hips, and the morning light from the window behind you cast a low, golden glow across your back.

You didn’t look up. You didn’t need to.

You could feel him watching you—feel the apology radiating off him before he even spoke.

A few seconds later, Bucky padded into the kitchen fully dressed, freshly showered, dog tags glinting faintly beneath his shirt collar. His hair was still damp, slicked back lazily with his fingers.

Your stomach twisted.

He stopped beside you, hands in his pockets, jaw tense. “It’s the team.”

You nodded, still chewing.

You didn’t need him to say it. You’d known the second that phone buzzed three times in a row.

“In the city?”

He nodded. “Watchtower. Just a briefing. Maybe recon. Shouldn’t be long.”

You nodded again, finishing the bite and setting the crust on the plate. The silence stretched.

Bucky leaned in, crowding into your space slightly like he always did when he needed you to ground him. “You angry?”

You sighed, licking a crumb from your bottom lip. Then you turned, finally facing him, and your arms slid easily around his neck.

He exhaled the moment you touched him—like that one gesture released the tension wrapped around his ribs.

“No,” you murmured, voice quiet but firm. “I’m not angry.”

His arms circled your waist, pulling you flush against him. “You sure?”

You nodded into his shoulder. “I know what I signed up for. You’re out there saving the world.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, brows furrowed, voice softer now. “Still. Doesn’t mean I don’t hate leaving.”

You looked up at him for a long beat, reading the guilt in his eyes. Then, deadpan:

“Well. You did spend the last ten minutes of our morning trying to ignore your phone while balls-deep in me. I’d call that balance.”

He huffed a low, surprised laugh, forehead dropping to yours. “Jesus Christ.”

You shrugged, lips twitching. “Hey. You asked.”

He kissed you, slow and lingering, and whispered against your mouth, “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

You pulled back just enough to give him that classic stare—the flat one that usually made Bob flinch.

“Honestly?” you said, voice dry. “Just the luck of the draw, hon.”

Bucky barked out a real laugh this time, low and raspy. “That sounds about right.”

You smiled—small, real—then leaned in and brushed a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

He didn’t move. Didn’t pull away. His hand trailed down your spine, fingers resting at the hem of your robe, his lips ghosting along your jaw now.

“I told them I’d be there in fifteen.”

“Mmhm.”

“But the drive’s only ten.”

You hummed, finishing your sip of water, eyes moving to your sandwich.

“So,” he murmured, mouth back at your ear now, voice dipping low, “technically that gives us five minutes to finish what we started.”

You turned your head, meeting his gaze under lowered lashes.

The look in his eyes was full of hope. And want. And a little desperation.

You kissed him—once, slow and sultry—letting him feel your mouth move over his.

Then you pulled back, just enough to whisper against his lips, “Mm. No.”

He blinked. “What?”

You turned, picking your sandwich back up and walking away toward the couch. “You already finished once today. Let a girl eat.”

Behind you, Bucky groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “You’re evil.”

“And yet, here you are,” you called over your shoulder, settling down and flipping through the remote like your thighs weren’t still sticky from him.

He watched you for a second longer, eyes lingering like he was committing you to memory. Then he sighed, picked up his jacket, and headed for the door.

“Call me after?” you said casually.

He looked back, already halfway out.

“Always.”

────────────────────────

The conference room in the Watchtower was, unfortunately, real. Sterile and over-lit with its polished black table and transparent display screens, it felt more like the waiting room of a tech-startup funeral than the nerve center of the New Avengers.

Bucky sat at the far end of the table, jaw clenched, half-listening as Val paced in front of a projected graph that looked like it was bleeding red. His phone buzzed once in his pocket—his eyes flicked down—but it wasn’t you, and the hollow ache behind his ribs twisted a little deeper.

This was the thing that had pulled him away. Not a mission. Not a world-ending threat. Just PR bullshit.

Val tapped the screen with her manicured finger like it had personally offended her. “The numbers are bad. Public trust in the New Avengers is declining, and fast. People don’t like what they don’t recognize. And right now, you’re a bunch of strangers with messy optics and zero cohesion.”

At her side, Mel nodded without looking up from her tablet. “Engagement down 22% week-over-week. Headlines are skewing nostalgic. Keywords trending: ‘wish Cap was back,’ ‘where’s the heart,’ and ‘vigilante vibes.’”

Yelena lounged back in her chair like she’d rather be anywhere else. Her feet were propped on the table’s edge, one boot bouncing with slow, deliberate disinterest. “Maybe they’re just mourning the glory days,” she muttered, twisting her gum around her finger. “Old team got shiny deaths and glossy documentaries. We get memes.”

Ava, seated across from her, gave a quiet snort. “We’re not here to trend. We’re here to finish missions.”

Val didn’t even blink. “You’re here to represent global security and inspire public trust. And without that trust, you’re nothing more than privately-funded vigilantes in almost matching gear.”

“I like our gear,” Alexei rumbled helpfully from the end, arms crossed over his chest like a stubborn bear.

Val spared him a look. “You’re the closest thing we have to comic relief, Alexei. Lean into it.”

“Is that what they call ‘noble heroism’ now?” he huffed.

Walker sat ramrod straight, jaw working, his suit perfectly zipped. “You think Cap worried about popularity? We’re not running a fashion campaign.”

“No,” Val said flatly. “But Cap didn’t publicly decapitate someone with a shield on live television either.”

Yelena snorted. “Yikes.”

John’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

“Point is,” Val continued, “you all need a rebrand. Yelena—your personality makes you relatable. Media loves you. You’ll handle most interviews.”

Yelena rolled her eyes. “Great. I’ll practice my ‘Good Morning, America’ smile.”

“Ava,” Val said, turning, “your trauma narrative plays well. But lean into redemption. Soft lighting. No more disappearing mid-interview.”

Ava’s response was a flat stare. “I’ll try not to phase through my own dignity.”

Val didn’t even acknowledge the jab.

“John,” she said, and his head snapped up like a soldier awaiting orders. “Less cowboy, more Captain. Smile more. No threats on-camera. Pretend you like people.”

He scoffed under his breath, muttering something about “hand-holding and fairy tales.”

“Alexei,” she said, deadpan, “people like the Soviet uncle bit. Keep it up.”

Alexei beamed.

“Bob, you’re doing fine. Stay polite. And no more jokes about punching through tanks, they’re fact-checking you.”

Bob looked vaguely hurt. “It was metaphorical.”

Val finally turned her gaze to Bucky, her expression shifting slightly—not warmer, but sharper, more calculated. She paced a slow step closer to where he sat, hands clasped behind her back like a politician delivering bad news with a smile.

“You, Barnes, are the key,” she said simply. “You’re the most recognized face on this team, and not just because of your past as the Winter Soldier.”

She gestured toward the screen behind her, now displaying a montage of Bucky’s appearances—post-congressional interviews, old wartime footage, newer press photos where he stood stoically beside Sam.

“You were a war hero before you were ever the Winter Soldier. Sergeant James Barnes, the Howling Commando, the man who fought beside Captain America during the most iconic conflict of the 20th century. And, until very recently, a U.S. Congressman advocating for post-snap veteran reform. Your file reads like a patriotic fantasy novel.”

Bucky didn’t move. Didn’t even blink. But something in his jaw ticked.

Val leaned in a little, her voice softening, but not with kindness—just control.

“What we need now is that Bucky. The leader. The charming, respectful, golden-era face people want to believe in. Friendly. Accessible. And most importantly…”

She paused.

“Available.”

That made Bucky’s eyes lift, expression tightening. “You do know I have a girlfriend, right? I’m in a committed relationship.”

Val didn’t miss a beat. “One the public doesn’t know about. And doesn’t need to.”

He sat forward slightly, steel entering his voice. “You’re asking me to lie.”

“No,” Val said, waving a hand. “I’m asking you to protect her. Think of it this way—if no one knows who she is, no one can leverage her. No threats. No gossip. No crossfire. It’s smarter this way.”

Mel tapped her tablet again. “We’ve already scrubbed mentions, just in case. Nothing linking her name to yours comes up in connection to the New Avengers.”

Bucky clenched his jaw. He hated this. Every inch of it.

“Why is it so important that I look ‘available’?” he asked flatly.

Val’s smile sharpened. “Because people want to like you. And people like what they want. It’s a psychological pull. You become more desirable, more approachable—someone they imagine they could know. That they could be with. It builds trust, makes you more likable. Marketable.”

He stared at her for a long beat.

“You want to make me into a fantasy.”

“I want to make you into a symbol,” Val corrected coolly. “And symbols don’t get girlfriends.”

Across the room, Yelena let out a low, mocking whistle. “Wow. That’s not creepy at all.”

Ava shook her head. “What’s next? Tinder profiles and fan edits?”

John rolled his eyes. “It’s optics. We all knew this came with the job.”

But Bucky barely heard them. His mind was already drifting—to you, still barefoot in the kitchen, silk robe sliding over bare thighs, chewing your sandwich with zero interest in who he was to the rest of the world. Just who he was to you.

And now, he had to pretend you didn’t exist.

He didn’t respond. Just sat back in his chair and regretted every second he hadn’t spent in your arms this morning.

────────────────────────

The Watchtower always smelled like metal and over-sterilized air. You hated it.

Fluorescents buzzed overhead as you stepped off the elevator, holding a small, zippered pouch in your hand—the charger Bucky had forgotten, again, even though you reminded him three times before he left.

The place felt like a cross between a tech firm and a concrete bunker: all gray walls, touchscreen doors, and state-mandated potted plants.

The main floor—what passed for a communal living space—was half chaos, half nap zone. Yelena was sprawled on one end of the sectional couch, flipping through something on her tablet and eating dried mango slices from a bag she probably stole from someone else.

Ava stood leaning against the wall nearby, arms crossed, watching the room like she was waiting for someone to step out of line so she could phase them through a floor. Bob was sitting cross-legged on the floor with a comic book held way too close to his face, murmuring what you assumed was commentary under his breath.

Alexei was telling a story. Loudly. And probably badly.

Bucky spotted you first. He was standing near the open kitchen area, talking with Mel—Val’s too-efficient assistant who always looked like she was plotting the next step of a corporate coup.

His entire expression changed when he saw you. The tension in his shoulders dropped a little, the corner of his mouth lifted, and for a second, he didn’t look like the unofficial leader of a barely-tethered government strike team. He just looked like your boyfriend.

You handed him the charger without ceremony.

“You left this.”

He took it with a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of his neck like it was the first time he’d ever been caught forgetting something (it wasn't). “Thanks. Thought I had it packed.”

“Nope,” you said, popping the “p.”

You didn’t mean to stay. You weren’t supposed to linger. But Bucky motioned for you to walk with him, and you didn’t say no.

Up close, you noticed the tired edge in his face. Like whatever conversation he’d been having before you arrived had worn him down more than a mission ever could.

He told you about it—about Val’s latest brainstorm. That the team needed to be more “media-friendly.” That they wanted him to lean into the good ol’ days: Sergeant James “Bucky” Barnes, WWII hero, former Congressman, the smile-that-could-end-wars poster boy.

You listened without interrupting, arms crossed, eyes squinting toward the ceiling as you tried to think through what he was actually saying.

When he finished, you just shrugged.

“Well,” you said, “sounds like when celebrities fake relationships before a movie comes out. Or pretend they’re single to sell tickets.”

Bucky blinked. “How do you even know that?”

You gave him a flat look, expression unreadable. “I was born in 1995, babe. Not the fucking 40s.”

Behind him, Walker snorted loudly. He’d been pretending not to listen, but of course he was.

“Damn,” he said, leaning against the fridge like he was waiting for someone to ask for his input (nobody did). “My wife would’ve never let me get away with that.”

You turned to look at him. Not annoyed. Not even angry. Just blank. Like staring at a particularly ugly lamp in a hotel room.

“That’s why she’s your ex-wife,” you said, voice calm. “And good for her.”

Yelena, without looking up from her tablet, let out a noise that might’ve been a laugh. Ava smirked quietly. Even Alexei stopped mid-sentence to grin like someone had dropped his favorite sitcom back into rotation.

Bucky watched all of it happen with a complicated kind of amusement. But it didn’t last.

Because then he had to say the next part.

He rubbed his hands down your arms, slow and hesitant, like bracing you.

“Val advised…” he started, then caught himself. “She recommended that maybe—for now—you don’t come around the tower. Or get seen with us in general.”

He didn’t say “hide.” He didn’t have to.

Your face didn’t change much. Not really. But he saw it. That tiny prickle of tension in your jaw. The slight shift in your eyes when you looked away from him for just a second too long.

You muttered something low. A lazy, “Whatever.” But the way you pulled your arms away said everything.

“I need to go anyway.”

Bucky stepped closer, voice soft but strained. “You don’t have to leave right away.”

You didn’t answer right away. Just looked at him, eyes unreadable, lips pressed in that almost-smile that wasn’t really a smile at all.

Then you leaned in and kissed his cheek, slow and warm, the way you always did when you were trying not to let the weight of something show.

“See you at home,” you murmured.

Your voice dipped at the end, barely above a whisper as you pulled back. “If you’re still allowed to come home, anyway.”

It wasn’t angry.

It wasn’t bitter.

It was worse.

It was tired.

Before he could answer, before he could say anything at all, you turned and walked to the elevator, the soft sound of your footsteps swallowed by the Watchtower’s chaos.

He didn’t follow.

And that hurt more than you cared to admit.

────────────────────────

It was slow. Almost imperceptible, at first.

A missed call here. A text left on “read” longer than usual. A two-day mission becoming a four-day stretch at the tower. No big fights. No yelling. No doors slammed.

Just quiet.

But that was the thing about quiet—Bucky had lived in it for too long. He knew its weight. Knew how it filled rooms like fog, hiding the way things shifted underneath.

Now, it was in everything.

He sat on the edge of his bed in the Watchtower, staring at the wall, phone still in hand from a message he hadn’t sent. His thoughts weren’t here—weren’t in this too-bright room, or with Val’s next debrief, or on the press event they had the next morning.

They were in Brooklyn.

Your shared apartment. The one with the soft light and creaky floorboards, and the tiny espresso machine you swore was better than anything Bucky had ever tasted. That place was home. It smelled like your lavender detergent and your coconut shampoo and your weirdly specific collection of candles labeled things like “wet grass” and “Scandinavian night.”

His body ached to be there. Just... there. On the couch. Next to you.

He used to spend three days a week here, tops. Two, if he could push it. The rest he’d guard selfishly for you—days spent sleeping beside you, cooking breakfast together, reading on opposite ends of the couch while your foot found his thigh and stayed there. You’d talk to him, let the silence stretch and snap and re-stitch. You never pushed. You never pried.

You were his quiet. The right kind of quiet.

Now? Now he barely remembered the last night he’d actually fallen asleep next to you. Really slept. Not just crashed on the bed after some back-to-back PR gig that left him in a suit with aching teeth from smiling too much.

He hated it.

He hated talking to the press, hated the way they asked questions like they already had the answers written. He hated being told to laugh, to charm, to tell stories that didn’t feel like his anymore. He hated Val’s smug reminders that likability mattered. That perception mattered.

Sometimes, he wished he’d never gone to Congress. That he hadn’t let convinced himself into the platform, the speeches, the idea that he could do good with a microphone instead of a mission.

Sometimes, he wished he’d just… faded.

Found a quiet nine-to-five. Something with a routine. Something boring.

Something normal.

Like you had.

You worked corporate communications. You clocked in and out. You had a clean desk, ergonomic chair, sarcastic co-workers. You went for runs in the park on weekends, had lunch dates with your girlfriends, took yoga classes when you weren’t too exhausted from the week.

You lived in the world like a real person.

And he’d wanted that so badly. Not for himself—but with you.

Because you were his normal. His constant. The stillness that didn’t suffocate. The grounding he’d clung to after years of floating through someone else’s chaos.

But now?

Now he didn’t know how to reach for it without dragging it into the spotlight with him.

And every time he came home and found you already asleep, back to him, or out with friends instead of waiting, or just… quiet in a way that wasn’t yours anymore—

He felt it.

The drift.

And he hated it.

────────────────────────

You didn’t talk about it.

You didn’t let yourself think about it.

The distance. His absence. The too-quiet apartment, the untouched half of the bed, the silence when your phone didn’t buzz all day. It wasn’t worth thinking about. People were dying in the world—actual, breathing, bleeding people—and you were going to be pathetic about your boyfriend missing dinner?

No.

Absolutely the fuck not.

So you cleaned. You ran. You worked. You answered emails with snide internal commentary and booked your usual yoga class for Tuesday even though you hated the new instructor’s voice. You refused to call it coping.

It was just living.

And tonight? Tonight was fine.

It was Saturday. He’d said he’d be back for dinner.

You didn’t text to confirm because you didn’t want to hover. Didn’t want to be needy. He’d said it, he’d meant it, and you would trust that. Like always.

So, you cooked.

Beef stew—slow and thick and comforting. Heavenly mashed potatoes, made with way more butter than you’d ever admit to aloud. Roasted vegetables, because Bucky needed something green on his plate or he’d sulk. It was all simmering gently on the stove while you lay curled on the couch in your oldest pair of yoga shorts and a hoodie, eating straight from a pint of mint chocolate chip.

It was fine.

Okay, it was your cheat day.

Okay, you’d had more cheat days than planned recently.

You’d also bought a new pair of jeans in the next size up, but that was irrelevant. You were not stress-eating. You were just... adapting to your changing lifestyle.

Had Bucky noticed?

The thought came and went before you could kill it.

He hadn’t said anything. Not that you needed him to. But still.

The sound of the TV murmured in the background, some fluff piece news channel you’d forgotten to mute while scrolling your phone. Something about the New Avengers. You tuned in just enough to glance at the footage—drone shots of a crumbling government facility somewhere in Eastern Europe, flames curling up the side of a building like hands.

You recognized the team instantly. Yelena, tossing her baton mid-air like it annoyed her to carry it. Ava disappearing through smoke. John looking way too pleased with himself.

And then—there he was.

Bucky.

His tactical suit was soot-streaked, sleeves rolled up, hair tied back, face streaked with ash. He was helping someone—no, two people—down the fire escape, guiding them through smoke with one hand steady on their backs.

Then it happened.

One of the women—civilian, blonde, maybe late 20s—turned and kissed him on the cheek. A hard, grateful kind of kiss. The kind that left a smudge of ash on his jaw.

She clung to him like he’d saved her life.

Maybe he had.

And Bucky? He smiled.

Not his press smile. Not the tight, practiced one. But something else—softer. Real.

You blinked.

Let out a breath through your nose. “Jesus Christ.”

It wasn’t like he kissed her. It wasn’t like he meant anything by it. She’d probably thought she was about to die, and then Bucky Barnes dragged her out of a collapsing building, and she just… reacted.

You weren’t jealous.

You were just being dramatic.

This was not about you.

But somehow, that one moment served to curdle the rest of the evening.

You changed the channel without saying anything, the ice cream melting slowly in your hands. The scent of stew floated in from the kitchen, warm and rich, but you didn’t move.

Dinner would keep.

You weren't sure if he would.

────────────────────────

It was past ten by the time Bucky stepped into the apartment.

The hallway had been dark. The front door had creaked louder than usual. And the only light inside was the kitchen, glowing soft and golden like a memory. It lit the space just enough to reveal the forgotten dinner plates covered in cling film on the counter, the quiet hum of the microwave keeping your meal warm—like it was still waiting.

But you weren’t.

His breath caught in his throat as he toed off his boots, silence wrapping around him like a punishment.

He said six.

Not “around six,” not “if I can swing it.” Just six. Sharp. He said it with his hands on your waist and his lips in your hair the night before. Said it like he meant it.

And now it was 10:18.

He could barely look at the time. The guilt clawed at him, sharp and low and constant. Every second he’d spent at the tower—every extra minute talking to reporters, doing damage control, smiling on cue—had eaten at him like acid.

He was supposed to be here.

In your shared space. In this soft, too-warm apartment that smelled faintly like roasted vegetables and your perfume.

And the worst part wasn’t just that he’d missed dinner. It was that he knew exactly what you’d done in his absence.

You wouldn’t have texted. Wouldn’t have called. You would’ve made his favorite meal anyway. You would’ve set out two bowls. You would’ve eaten alone, probably on the couch, probably in silence. And you would’ve told yourself—it’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine—like you had any interest in believing it anymore.

The bathroom door clicked open.

He froze.

You stepped out, already dressed for bed—an oversized button-down, sleeves rolled up to your elbows. Your hair was twisted up and pinned in the messy, practical way you always wore it when you were done for the day. Slippers scuffed softly against the floor as you walked into the hall, blinking slightly at the light.

You stopped when you saw him.

Both of you just stood there for a moment—frozen in that strange tension where neither of you knew which role to play yet. He looked at you like he didn’t know if he was allowed to speak.

Then he remembered how to breathe.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” he said quietly, voice rougher than he meant. Like he’d been holding it in all night. “I—I got caught up. I didn’t mean to—”

You didn’t answer right away.

Just blinked at him. No surprise on your face. No anger.

Just quiet.

Then you gave a little shrug—small and tired, the kind of shrug that said what else is new?—and turned toward the kitchen.

“There’s food in the microwave if you’re still hungry,” you said simply.

And then you walked past him.

No kiss. No touch. No sarcastic jab.

Just your scent, and the ache of knowing that he wasn’t even sure if he was following you to the bedroom or to the guest room tonight.

The door clicked softly behind you.

And Bucky stood alone in the glow of a kitchen he didn’t deserve.

────────────────────────

It was almost midnight when Bucky finally walked into the bedroom.

Not because he was tired. He’d been tired for hours.

He just needed to be sure you were asleep.

The microwave had long since gone silent. He’d eaten half the stew in distracted mouthfuls, barely tasting it, then spent an hour sitting in the living room in the dark, elbows on his knees, forehead resting on steepled hands. The guilt gnawed at him—not loud or dramatic, just steady, like water dripping against stone. It never stopped.

He pushed open the door slowly, as if afraid it would creak too loud. The room smelled like your shampoo, your skin, your cocoa body butter. His sanctuary. The place he used to walk into and feel immediate calm.

Now it just reminded him of everything he was missing, even while it was still right in front of him.

You were already in bed.

Covers pulled halfway up. Lights dimmed. Hair pinned back in the soft way you wore it only at night. You slept with your back to the door—back to him—and it made something inside him pinch.

He hesitated in the doorway, watching the gentle rise and fall of your breath, the way your fingers curled under your pillow. Still. Quiet. Entirely out of reach.

He stripped silently, down to boxers and a threadbare black t-shirt, and slid beneath the sheets with a care that bordered on reverent.

Then—inch by inch—he moved closer.

It was tentative. Like approaching a deer in the woods. Like if he moved too fast, you might flinch and disappear.

His arm slid around your waist. Cautious. Testing.

You didn’t move.

So he let his chest press against your back, warm and slow. Let his knees curve behind yours, let his other hand reach up and tuck gently under your ribcage, pulling you flush.

Then—finally—he buried his face in the crook of your neck. Breathed you in like he hadn’t seen home in weeks.

A beat passed.

Then another.

Still, you didn’t stir. No tensing. No pulling away.

Just the soft, subconscious hum of sleep.

And that—that tiny, unconscious mercy—was enough to let him exhale for the first time all night.

It wasn’t much.

But it was something.

And he held on to it like it might save him.

────────────────────────

The apartment smelled like detergent and coffee. Morning light streamed in through the windows, dust catching in the gold. On the surface, it looked like a Sunday—peaceful, slow, quiet.

But it wasn’t.

You sat on the couch, folding laundry with the precision of someone who needed something—anything—to occupy your hands. T-shirt, fold. Socks, fold. Hoodie, fold. The pile on the coffee table grew in neat little stacks, organized by drawer and category.

Bucky leaned in the doorway, watching you. Barefoot, hair tied up, one of his sweatshirts hanging loose around your shoulders. It should’ve been comforting. Familiar.

It wasn’t.

He moved to the kitchen, filled two mugs with coffee, brought yours over without a word. Set it down next to your knee. You gave a nod, murmured “thanks,” without looking up.

His stomach twisted.

He sat across from you, mug cradled in both hands, trying not to overthink it. Trying to act normal. Pretend that everything didn’t feel like it was three steps left of what it used to be.

“So,” he said, voice easy, like he was just easing into the day with you. “You still going to that yoga class on Tuesdays?”

You didn’t look at him. Just kept folding a pair of socks, thumbs pressing the fabric into place. “Yeah.”

He waited for more.

Nothing.

“You like it?”

You shrugged, moved onto a fitted sheet. “It’s fine.”

Bucky nodded slowly, feeling the distance like a cold draft under a closed door.

That was how you talked to people you didn’t want to get stuck in a conversation with. To strangers. To coworkers who overshared. To the people you were polite to but had no desire to know.

He remembered how your voice used to sound when it was just the two of you—low, dry, threaded with sarcasm and occasional sweetness you tried hard to hide. He remembered the way your eyes used to flick up mid-conversation just to check that he was still smiling. He remembered you saying, “I hate everyone but you,” with a hand on his chest and a smirk you couldn't keep down.

Now?

Now you sounded like someone tolerating him.

And it broke something inside his chest that he didn’t know how to fix.

He took a sip of his coffee, staring into the steam, words catching behind his teeth.

You weren’t angry.

You weren’t cruel.

You were just... gone.

And it was killing him.

The silence had stretched too long. Not peaceful. Not content. Just tense.

Bucky watched you fold a hoodie and set it aside like it mattered. Like it was worth more attention than him. He had tried—coffee, questions, anything to coax out that sliver of warmth you used to give him without thinking.

Now it was measured. Distant. Like he was on the other side of something neither of you had noticed building until it was too high to climb over.

He stared into his coffee like it might offer an answer. It didn’t.

So finally—quietly, but not gently—he asked, “Are we okay?”

You froze mid-fold.

Your hands stilled, holding one of his long-sleeve shirts in your lap, fingers curled around the soft fabric.

And then, for the first time that morning, you looked at him.

Not a glance. Not a nod. You looked at him.

There was a frown on your lips. A deep furrow between your brows. The kind of look you gave when something was broken and you weren’t sure whether to fix it or walk away from it.

“I don’t know,” you said honestly.

The words hit harder than he was ready for.

You didn’t know.

And that terrified him.

He nodded slowly, like he was trying to process it, but nothing quite stuck. His hands tightened around the mug in his grip.

You looked down again, slowly folding the shirt in your lap. Your voice dropped, softer now. Barely above the hum of the fridge.

“I try not to think about it.”

Bucky’s throat tightened.

You weren’t trying to hurt him. But it hurt anyway.

Because that was the truth of it, wasn’t it? Neither of you had talked about it. You’d just lived in the quiet space between exhaustion and effort, pretending the love was enough to keep everything from shifting.

You still loved him. He knew that.

But love wasn't fixing it. Not when you felt like strangers in the same home.

“I miss you,” he said, voice rough. “Even when I’m right here. I miss you.”

You didn’t look up.

Didn’t answer.

Just smoothed your fingers across the folded shirt like maybe if you kept them busy, the truth wouldn’t get too loud.

He wanted to reach across the coffee table, wanted to take your hands, wanted to say something to undo it all.

But neither of you were good at this part.

You were good at sarcasm. At quiet nights. At sex in the kitchen and lazy Sundays with pancakes and him pretending not to burn the bacon.

You weren’t good at asking for what you needed.

And right now, neither of you knew how to say what came next.

So the silence stretched again—thicker now, heavier.

The laundry was folded.

That’s what you clung to, bizarrely, like it meant something. Order. Control. You stacked the last shirt on the table and smoothed your palms down your thighs, blinking at nothing in particular.

You hadn’t spoken since I miss you.

Not because you didn’t want to.

Because you didn’t trust what might come out if you did.

Across from you, Bucky hadn’t moved much either. Just sat with the cooling coffee in his hands, elbows on his knees, staring at the place you used to lean into him without hesitation.

The silence thickened until it felt like breathing through gauze.

You stood up, grabbed your coffee, and walked into the kitchen. You weren’t thirsty. You just needed something to do.

Behind you, Bucky’s voice broke the quiet.

“This isn’t what I wanted,” he said.

Your back tensed. The mug clinked slightly against the counter.

“I didn’t want this either,” you said, not turning around.

“You used to talk to me,” he murmured. “Even when you were annoyed. Even when you were tired. You still talked.”

You closed your eyes.

“It’s hard to talk,” you said, voice flat, “when you’re not around to listen.”

The armchair scraped back against the floor. Footsteps. Closer.

“I am listening,” he said, more desperate now. “I know I’ve been— I’ve been stretched. But I’m here now. Just talk to me.”

You turned around slowly, coffee mug still in your hand. You looked at him, really looked. And something inside you cracked—not because you didn’t love him.

Because you did.

That was the problem.

“I don’t want to be another thing you manage, Bucky.”

He froze.

You shook your head slowly. “You manage the media. You manage the team. You manage your image. I don’t want to be another box you tick at the end of the day.”

“I don’t think of you like that—”

“I know,” you interrupted softly. “That’s what makes it worse.”

He stared at you, helpless.

“I don’t doubt you love me,” you continued. “But I can’t keep living in the spaces between your obligations. You show up late, you leave early. You touch me like you’re scared I’ll vanish. And maybe I will, because I don’t know how much more of this I can take without losing myself.”

Your voice didn’t shake.

Your hands didn’t clench.

You weren’t yelling.

But you might as well have torn your heart out and set it on the counter between you.

Bucky swallowed hard. “So what? You’re done?”

You looked at him, and for the first time, there was no sarcasm. No tight-lipped smile. Just a hollow kind of truth.

“I’m tired,” you said. “And I don’t know how to not be tired anymore.”

He opened his mouth. Closed it again.

Your voice dropped lower. “I can’t be the only one holding the thread, babe.”

The silence returned. Bigger now.

You stepped around him, walked to the bedroom, and closed the door behind you—not slammed. Just shut.

Soft. But final.

While Bucky stood in the kitchen, frozen.

The coffee in his mug had gone cold.

The apartment felt foreign, like he’d wandered into someone else’s life and forgotten how to get back to his own.

He sat down on the edge of the couch, hands in his hair.

He couldn’t lose this. He wouldn’t.

You were it. His peace. His pulse. The only thing in his life that ever made him feel real.

He didn’t care what Val said, or what public image they wanted to build, or how many staged smiles he had to fake for camera crews.

If it meant losing you?

Then it wasn’t worth anything.

And he would fix it.

He didn’t know how yet.

But he would.

Because if this ended, if you walked away and didn’t look back—

He’d be nothing but a name in a file again.

And he’d already spent too much of his life feeling like a ghost.

────────────────────────

Bucky had never cared for formal events, especially not since becoming the public face of a team that didn't particularly want one. But tonight wasn’t about optics. It wasn’t about strategy or good PR.

It was about you.

The invitation had landed on Val’s desk a week ago—a high-profile charity gala for Clean Futures, an international organization funding mental health programs for post-Blip survivors. Your company had a long-standing partnership with the group, which meant you’d be there. Representing. Smiling for photos. Dressed to kill.

And you hadn’t told him.

You didn’t need to. He hadn’t earned that kind of openness in weeks.

So Bucky had taken the opportunity and run with it.

He stood in front of the full-length mirror in the Watchtower’s prep room, tugging at the lapels of the black suit that Mel had somehow sourced last-minute. The cut was sharp, classic, tailored to emphasize broad shoulders and trim waist. His hair was slicked back, jaw clean-shaven, cufflinks engraved with the new Avengers insignia.

It felt like armor.

It wasn’t for the cameras. It wasn’t for the team.

It was for you.

Because maybe if he showed up—not as a soldier or a symbol or a ghost of a man who couldn’t keep promises—but as your man, he might finally break the wall you’d built brick by slow, exhausted brick.

"You look like a magazine ad for heartbreak,” Yelena said flatly as she passed him in the hallway, already halfway into a glittering black gown. “That is not a compliment.”

Bucky didn’t flinch. “You know she’s gonna be there?”

“Do I look like her personal assistant?” she replied. “You’re the one who made Val jump through hoops to drag us into this.”

“It's for a good cause,” he said.

Yelena narrowed her eyes. “Uh-huh. Sure. Purely selfless.”

Ava walked by next, heels clicking. “You’re nervous,” she noted, glancing at him sideways.

“I’m not—”

“You’re sweating through a thousand dollars worth of tailoring. That’s nerves.”

He rolled his eyes.

Alexei, coming down the stairs in a tux that looked like it belonged to a different century, clapped him on the back. “You want advice? Make her laugh. Women like a man who makes them laugh.”

“Or,” Bob said quietly, trailing behind them with his bowtie untied and suit wrinkled, “you could just apologize. That works too.”

Bucky ignored them all as he fastened his bowtie and adjusted the cuffs one last time.

He didn’t know if you’d speak to him.

But he’d be damned if he stood across a ballroom from you and didn’t try.

────────────────────────

The camera flashes started the moment the New Avengers stepped out of the sleek black convoy outside the grand hotel.

Reporters lined the ropes, shouting names and questions, bulbs flashing like strobe lights in a storm. Val stood smug just off to the side, soaking it in like she’d orchestrated the whole damn thing.

Inside, the ballroom was already humming with rich voices, tinkling glassware, soft jazz echoing beneath a grand chandelier. Politicians, CEOs, heads of NGOs, tech royalty—all of them looking to shake hands and write checks.

Yelena rolled her eyes as a photographer barked her name, whispering something to Bob, who stayed glued to her side. Ava immediately veered away from the attention. John lapped up the press like a plant under a grow light. Alexei was already loudly asking where the vodka was.

But Bucky wasn’t looking at the cameras.

He wasn’t smiling.

He was scanning the ballroom, eyes darting over sequined gowns and tuxedoed silhouettes with laser focus. Looking. Searching. Waiting.

And then he saw you.

It hit him like a sucker punch.

You descended the marble staircase on the far side of the ballroom, a vision in crimson. He hadn’t seen the dress before—he would’ve remembered. The deep red clung to your body like it knew exactly where you wanted to be touched.

It shimmered subtly under the chandelier light, catching the gold in your skin, the delicate slope of your collarbone, the shape of your legs moving with slow, elegant precision.

You were talking to someone—corporate, probably. Networking. Smooth and composed, all polished charm and business poise. The person in front of you was smiling wide, laughing, but your expression was mild, professional. Exactly what it needed to be.

But then—

Like you felt him.

You turned.

Your eyes swept the crowd and locked on him like gravity itself had bent the light to make it happen.

Bucky froze.

Time narrowed.

The din of the gala dulled. His heartbeat went hot in his ears. All he could see was you—standing there in that goddamn dress, looking like a memory he hadn’t earned and a future he didn’t deserve.

And for a second, just one second, your expression broke.

Just a little.

Recognition. Surprise. And something else—something softer. Sharper.

Then, just as quickly, it was gone.

You turned back to your conversation, spine straightening, mouth curving into that polite smile you wore when you wanted to end something without causing a scene.

Bucky stood rooted in place, jaw clenched, hands curled at his sides.

Right.

He’d told you not to be seen near them. Told you to stay away, for safety. For PR. For a million reasons that didn’t mean a damn thing anymore.

And now?

He couldn’t just walk up to you. Couldn’t confess his love in front of the board members and donors and paparazzi. He knew you. Knew you’d hate it. Knew it would make you glare instead of melt.

So he’d have to find another way.

One that would mean something.

One that would be yours.

And Bucky Barnes had never been more ready to fight for something in his goddamn life.

────────────────────────

Bucky spent most of the night like a man caught in the wrong timeline.

The team had dispersed—mingling, sipping wine, taking photos they didn’t want to take. Yelena charmed a table of older donors by being blunt and hilarious.

Ava was already in a corner having a serious conversation about resource allocation. Bob, somehow, had gotten pulled into a group selfie with a senator. Even John had managed to slap on a half-decent smile and talk to two reporters without saying anything arrogant.

But Bucky?

Bucky stood there.

Dark suit, jaw clenched, drink untouched in his hand.

Watching you.

You moved through the room like you weren’t breaking his heart a little with every step. Laughing politely at something someone said. Holding your glass just so. The fabric of that crimson dress whispering around your ankles as you walked.

Every now and then, your eyes flicked to his. Brief. Electric. Then gone again.

He didn’t know what to do with himself.

And then—heels clicking, voice like an ice pick—Val appeared beside him.

“You’re up.”

Bucky blinked. “Up for what?”

Val gave a thin, dry smile. “Speech. On behalf of the New Avengers. Seeing as the rest of your team has at least attempted to behave like functioning public figures, and you’ve done nothing but stand here looking like an emotionally repressed Greek statue all night.”

He blinked again. “I wasn’t told—”

“You are now,” she interrupted, already turning away. “It’s already been cleared with the host. Mic’s ready. Try not to say anything too traumatic.”

And with that, she pivoted away, already bored of him.

Public speaking. God help him.

But then his eyes found you again.

Still glowing under the chandeliers. Still you.

And he thought, maybe this is it.

He walked onto the stage to the quiet hum of low conversation and the gentle clinking of glasses. The host introduced him with a few polite words—"Representative of the New Avengers, veteran of WW2..."—and then stepped aside, leaving Bucky with the mic and a ballroom full of people who had no idea what he was about to say.

He gripped the podium tighter than he meant to.

Cleared his throat.

You were near the center, now seated at a table with your company’s execs. And your eyes were already on him.

God.

He hadn’t even started yet, and he was wrecked.

He cleared his throat. “Good evening.”

A few polite nods from the audience.

“I’m not… great at speeches,” he started, eyes sweeping the crowd once—but only once—before settling back on you.

“But I’m honored to speak tonight. Because this cause… matters. Mental health support for Blip survivors—that’s not just a talking point. It’s life-saving.”

People leaned in.

“I’ve seen firsthand what coming back can do to someone,” he said slowly, carefully. “What it feels like to be displaced. Lost. Like time’s moved on without you, and you’re just… dragging behind it, trying to catch up. And the worst part of that isn’t the confusion. It’s the loneliness.”

His voice was low, careful. This part, at least, he could manage.

“I think we talk a lot about the logistics of the Blip—people gone, people returned, the chaos. But we don’t talk enough about what it did to the people who stayed. Or the ones who came back and didn’t recognize the world anymore. People who survived, but didn’t feel alive.”

You shifted slightly in your seat. His eyes never left you.

“And I’m saying this not just as an Avenger or a veteran… but as someone who’s been there. Someone who came back from the dead—twice. And there were days I didn’t know how to keep going. I’ve spent years working on being more than what happened to me. I’ve sat in rooms trying to explain why it still hurts. Trying to find meaning.”

A pause.

“And I wouldn’t have made it if I hadn’t had someone to come home to.”

That’s when the shift happened.

Eyes widened. A few murmurs from the crowd. Even Val froze near the back.

“I’m not… great with this kind of thing,” Bucky said, adjusting the mic slightly. “But I’m standing here in front of all of you, not because I’m part of a superhero team, or because someone handed me a title. I’m standing here because there is a woman in this room who keeps me tethered.”

He didn’t blink.

Didn’t glance away from you, not even once.

“She’s my rock. My clarity. The only person who ever looked at me and saw something worth saving. She didn’t ask me to be a hero. She just asked me to be me. And somehow… she still loved what she saw.”

A breath.

“She is the reason I believe I deserve peace.”

Your eyes were locked on him, wide, unmoving.

Some of the audience was blinking. A few whispering.

But Bucky didn’t care.

Because he wasn’t talking to them.

He was talking to you.

“I was a soldier. Then a weapon. Then a politician. Now I’m trying to be a man. And I can’t be that without her.”

He swallowed, but didn’t falter.

And for the first time in weeks, his voice felt steady. Because for once, he wasn’t hiding. Not his love. Not his pain. Not what you meant to him.

He took a breath.

Then finished, simply:

“So thank you for supporting this cause. It’s not abstract. It’s personal. For all of us.”

A pause.

Then the room erupted in applause.

But Bucky didn’t hear it.

He was still looking at you.

And for the first time in weeks, he didn’t feel the distance.

────────────────────────

The applause was still echoing faintly through the ballroom, conversations blooming again like nothing had shifted—but Bucky knew better.

Something had shifted.

He stepped off the stage and straight into the tide of well-dressed bodies. Donors, board members, media people—shaking hands, smiling, complimenting him, dropping half-formed praises about “moving” and “authentic” and “genuine vulnerability.”

But he didn’t care.

He barely registered any of it.

His eyes were scanning the room. Looking for you. Like if he could just find you, ground himself in your orbit, maybe he could believe that what he’d just done was enough.

But you weren’t by the bar. You weren’t at the staircase. You weren’t by the back exit or near the dance floor or—

Then he felt it.

A hand—your hand—sliding around his arm, fingers warm against the fabric of his sleeve.

He turned, heart already beating faster.

You didn’t say anything.

Just gave him a look.

And gently, almost imperceptibly, tugged him away from the crowd.

Bucky followed without thinking, letting you lead him through a discreet side corridor, past a curtained alcove where the sounds of the gala dulled to a hum.

And when you stopped, when you turned to face him, he opened his mouth—

But he didn’t get a word out.

Because your hands were on his face, firm and sure, pulling him down into a kiss that knocked the breath from his chest.

It wasn’t slow.

It wasn’t cautious.

It was needy. Real. Like you’d been starving for weeks and finally allowed to taste again. Like he was something you couldn’t help but want.

He melted into you with a sound that wasn’t quite a sigh, wasn’t quite a groan—just relief. One hand gripping your hip, the other tangling in your hair like he couldn’t believe this was real.

When you finally pulled back, breath warm against his lips, you didn’t let go.

Didn’t step away.

You just leaned your forehead to his and whispered, voice tinged with a half-smile—

“You’re gonna be in so much trouble.”

He huffed out something like a laugh. “Worth it.”

Your fingers lingered against his jaw.

The soft glow from the hallway barely reached the small alcove where you stood, still tucked away behind velvet drapes and polished columns. The noise of the gala felt far-off now—like another world neither of you belonged to.

Bucky wouldn't let go of you. His hands still rested on your waist like he didn’t trust the moment to last. Like if he blinked, you might fade again.

You leaned your shoulder into the wall, breathing finally steady. He looked at you—really looked at you—and reached for your hand.

“I’m gonna try,” he said, voice low, steady in the dark. “I know I’ve said it before, but this time… I mean it. I’m gonna try, really try. I don’t care how many speeches they want. I don’t care what the media says or what Val plans next. You’re it. You’re my whole damn life.”

Your lips parted, but he kept going.

“I love you,” he said. “And I know that’s not always enough to make it easy. But I want you to know that if you asked me—if you looked me in the eye right now and said to walk away from the Avengers, from all of it—”

His hand cupped the back of your neck.

“I would.”

Your heart twisted, eyes burning in that way they always did when he got too sincere.

You reached up and cupped his cheek, fingers brushing along his clean-shaven cheek, thumb skimming the line of his jaw.

“I know,” you whispered. “But you know I’d never ask that.”

He leaned into your hand, eyes fluttering shut for just a second. “Doesn’t change the fact that I would. You come first. You always do.”

You smiled, so gently he almost missed it.

“I don’t need you to walk away,” you murmured. “I just need you to walk back. To us. To me.”

He nodded. “I will.”

You kissed him again—slower this time. Like a promise. Like you were giving him something he already owned but forgot how to hold.

And when you pulled away, his mouth curved, that old smirk creeping back into place as his hands slid subtly down your back.

“You know,” he said, voice dipping, “this is a pretty dark corner. Not a lot of foot traffic.”

You snorted. “James.”

“I’m just saying,” he grinned, leaning in, “no one would see.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Keep it in your pants, Barnes.”

“What about when we get home?”

You kissed his jaw and murmured against his skin— “When we get home, Sergeant.”

His grin bloomed—lazy, boyish, free—and before you could say anything else, he kissed you again.

Longer. Slower. Sweeter.

[alygator77]

࿐ vows of duty ── part 1

࿐pairing. arranged clanhead! satoru x fem! reader

࿐summary. the gojo clan is untouchable, and their new ruler, gojo satoru, is the most powerful sorcerer of his generation—unrivaled, unrestricted, and utterly uncontrollable. for years, he has defied the expectations of his clan, rejecting tradition, resisting the cage they built for him. but even the strongest must bow to duty. a deal struck, a marriage arranged. you, the daughter of a fallen clan, are chosen to stand at his side. not out of love, but because gojo satoru always gets what he wants. and if he's obligated to marry, fuck it, he wants you. though, you quickly learn that your place is not beside him—but beneath him. why? because gojo satoru doesn’t do love.

࿐tags/warnings. nsfw 18+, smut, angst (with eventual fluff), slight canon divergence, arranged marriage, satoru is emotionally detached, he's kinda a dick at times, breeding, breeding kink, praise kink, some degradation, loss of virginity, mentions of infidelity, mentions of a prior scandal (i'll update tags as i write more) » 【this part — involves a 7 yr time skip, from both reader and satoru's pov. satoru's a little shit. he's arrogant and gives no fucks. suguru defects. sexual content. fingering, handjob, orgasms, male ejaculation on tits, lots of dirty talk】

࿐wc. 16.4k (suuuurprise.... heh)

࿐a/n. hiiii. it's finally here—the full fic of this drabble. you can expect this fic to be multiple parts, i'm just not sure how many yet. anyways, i had fun writing a canon version of satoru. i love my canon pookie. even if he's emotionally constipated here. enjoy 🫶🏻 (art by @/_3aem on X )

Your mother had always told you—there were four great clans in jujutsu society. Four names that shaped history, wielding power that stretched back for centuries.

The Zenin Clan, ruthless in tradition, where strength dictated worth and weakness was met with exile.

The Kamo Clan, a relic of the past, clinging desperately to their once-unshakable influence, willing to spill whatever blood necessary to remain relevant.

The Gojo Clan, untouchable, revered—the bloodline of gods. A name so powerful it stood above all others, their very existence defined by the Six Eyes and Limitless, abilities so rare they might as well have been myth.

And then, there was your clan.

A family as old as Kyoto itself, a bloodline sharpened by centuries of discipline and technique. The fourth great clan, standing alongside these names not as a rival, but as an equal. You were always told that your family had not built its legacy on brute force or deception, nor had it relied on a singular, overwhelming ability to dominate the battlefield.

No—your clan thrived on precision. Strategy. Control.

Respected. Feared. Established.

Yes, let it be known that your family produced some of the finest jujutsu sorcerers Kyoto had ever seen—that alone secured your place among the elite. And so, you had spent your life walking the delicate line between tradition and expectation, power and obedience. You were raised to be precise, to be measured—a perfect reflection of the strength your family stood for.

And that was why you were here tonight.

Because power, recognized power.

And tonight, the most powerful clan of them all was crowning a new king.

Tonight—December 7th—on his eighteenth birthday, Gojo Satoru would be proclaimed Clan Head of the Gojo family. The invitation had been sent to only the most respected and esteemed. This was more than a celebration; it was a display. A reminder.

All of Japan had known for years that the next ruler of the strongest clan had been chosen. Ever since the moment Gojo Satoru was born, it had been inevitable. But tonight, it would become official.

Inhaling deeply, you forced stillness into your spine—your expression smoothing into something unreadable.

You were no stranger to moving through halls filled with power—no, you had been raised for moments like these. You knew how to hold yourself, how to command respect, how to navigate a room full of Kyoto’s most dangerous and influential figures.

And yet…

There was something about tonight that felt… different.

Perhaps it’s because, for the first time, you would stand in the same room as him. The prodigy. The untouchable. The strongest sorcerer of his generation—a living legend before he was ever grown, a force of nature wrapped in a human body.

You had heard his name more times than you could count, but you had never seen him.

Not in person. Not until tonight.

"Fix your kimono.”

Your mother’s voice cut through the quiet hum of the car, sharp and precise as ever.

She didn’t look at you as she said it—she never had to. The flick of her gaze toward your reflection in the window was enough. Cool, assessing. She expected perfection.

You didn’t argue. You never argued.

Instead, your hands moved instinctively, smoothing the silk draped over your lap. Midnight blue, embroidered with delicate silver cranes in flight—a symbol of strength, of longevity, of duty. A reminder of the life you were bound to.

The obi at your waist had been tied flawlessly earlier that evening, its silken folds pressed into place with meticulous care—yet you still adjusted it. Not because it was imperfect, but because she had told you to.

Exhaling softly, your mother’s eyes swept over you briefly—as though the smallest flaw in your presentation might tarnish the family name.

"Appearances matter," she murmured, smoothing the folds of her own ivory kimono, embroidered with peonies and bamboo—symbols of wealth and resilience. Even in the dim light of the car, she radiated elegance, flawless as always.

"Tonight, we do not lower ourselves."

She spoke as if you didn’t already know. As if she hadn’t spent years molding you into a perfect reflection of the family’s strength.

Across from you, your father shifted, stretching his legs slightly as he leaned back into his seat. The glow of his phone screen flickered over his face, casting sharp shadows across his features. As his fingers tapped idly against the side of the device, the screen was angled just enough that neither you nor your mother could see it.

Yeah… that was a habit of his. One you had learned not to acknowledge.

Your mother never acknowledged it either. Not in words, at least.

But you saw it in the way her fingers tensed against her sleeve, in the subtle shift of her posture, as if willing herself to ignore the obvious.

"You put too much weight on these things," your father muttered, carrying an air of finality. "The Gojo Clan already knows who we are. No amount of perfect posture is going to change their minds."

The silence that followed was familiar.

A subtle tension seeped into the space between them—the kind that had no beginning and no resolution. Something ever-present, like a thread woven too tightly through the fabric of their marriage.

Lowering her gaze slightly, your mother adjusted the folds of her sleeve with slow, deliberate care.

"Power is not always displayed through strength alone," she said, softer now. "It is seen in the way others perceive you. The moment you allow someone to look down on you, you have already lost."

Exhaling through his nose, a quiet sound rumbles through your father’s chest—neither agreement nor disagreement. He wasn’t listening. Not really.

"Depends," he sighs dismissively. "There are worse things than being looked down on."

Your mother’s hands froze for just a moment, before she recovered, smoothing out her sleeve with a quiet nod.

"Of course…" she murmured, conceding with practiced ease.

She would not challenge him. She never did.

Turning yourself toward the window, you felt the weight of their silence settle into your ribs.

You had seen this scene too many times before. So you looked away. Focusing on the world outside, rather than the quiet battlefield inside the car. Then, finally, it came into view.

The Gojo Estate.

It did not sit among the rest of Kyoto. It stood above it.

Carved into the mountainside, the estate loomed over the landscape like something untouched by time. Its outer walls stretched endlessly into the dark, built of aged wood and blackened stone, reinforced not just with craftsmanship but with sorcery itself. A silent warning. A declaration of power—this was not a place where outsiders were welcome.

Beyond the towering gates, the estate unfurled like a painting.

The courtyard was vast, an expanse of raked gravel and polished stone pathways that twisted through pruned bonsai, moss-covered lanterns, and koi-filled ponds shimmering beneath the moonlight. Each element was a silent testament to a clan that valued not just power, but control—as if even the earth beneath the Gojos’ feet bowed to their authority.

A long row of cherry blossom trees lined the outer garden, their pale petals quivering in the night breeze. Winter had stolen the color from Kyoto’s streets, but here, the blossoms remained in eternal bloom—preserved unnaturally, suspended in time by the lingering touch of sorcery. As the wind passed through them, petals drifted down in soft flurries, catching in the air like falling snow.

Your breath stilled slightly.

Even for someone raised in a powerful clan, the sight of the Gojo estate was enough to humble.

The car slowed to a stop, just before the entrance, and your gaze flickered toward the attendants waiting outside before shifting upward, toward the main hall that loomed beyond the courtyard.

It was not a home.

It was a throne.

And tonight, the man who would rule it was waiting inside.

༻༺ꨄ༻༺

“Y’know, I really don’t get why everyone’s making such a big deal out of this,” Satoru drawls, tugging at the stiff collar of his ceremonial robes with a dramatic grimace. “They’ve known I’m the strongest since birth. Feels a little redundant, don’t y’think?”

Across the room, Suguru lets out a slow exhale, his shoulder pressed lazily against the wooden frame of the window. Beyond him, Kyoto stretches into the night—rooftops bathed in silver moonlight, the glow of distant lanterns flickering like dying embers. But he isn’t looking at the view. His gaze flickers toward Satoru through the mirror’s reflection, watching as his friend fussed with the layers of fine silk draped over his shoulders, like it’s a burden rather than an honor.

“They have to make a big deal out of it,” Suguru murmurs, quiet, almost bored. “Otherwise, what’s left for them?”

Satoru scoffs, shifting his weight as he tugs at the sash around his waist, loosening it just to tighten it again.

“Yeah, well. If this keeps ‘em busy, maybe they’ll hold off on nagging me about marriage for another year.”

Suguru hums, pushing off the window frame. Taking a slow step forward, his hands slip into the wide sleeves of his yukata as he watches Satoru wrestle against his robes like they were shackles.

“You say that like they won’t have a new excuse next week.”

Catching Suguru’s gaze in the mirror, Satoru’s lips curl into a lazy, knowing grin.

“Think they’ll get creative?”

“They always do.”

Clicking his tongue, an exaggerated sigh slips from Satoru’s lips as he finally turns from the mirror to grab the ceremonial overcoat folded on the edge of the lacquered table. The fabric is rich and regal—deep indigo silk embroidered with gold, the threads gleaming under the dim candlelight.

“Tch… I swear…” he barely spares the elegant silk a glance before throwing it over his shoulders, the heavy material settling like a crown he never asked for. “Maybe I should start charging for every goddamn time they waste my time.”

Suguru hums, tilting his head.

“You’d make a fortune.”

“Please,” Satoru scoffs, flicking at the intricate gold trim on his sleeve, grin sharp and self-satisfied. “I’m already loaded.”

Suguru lets out a quiet breath, one hand slipping into his sleeve before pulling out a cigarette, rolling it between his fingers.

“And yet…” he muses, placing it between his lips as he fishes for his lighter, “all that money, and you’re still stuck wearing that ridiculous thing.”

Satoru let out a long-suffering sigh, rolling his shoulders under the weight of the overcoat, shifting slightly—like he could somehow make it sit lighter on him.

“Right?” He turns back toward the mirror, tugging at the stiff collar with an annoyed pull. “I look like I belong in a fucking museum.”

Suguru says nothing at first. The metal flicks, a sharp scratch of sound, flame briefly illuminating his face as he lights the cigarette. The glow reflects in his violet eyes for half a second as he takes a slow drag.

“Or on a wedding altar,” he exhales smoke in a measured breath.

Satoru’s hands freeze mid-adjustment. His head snaps up, and through the mirror, he shoots Suguru a flat look.

“Not funny.”

Suguru smirks, the cigarette hanging loosely between his fingers as smoke curls through the air. “I’m serious,” he murmurs, tapping ash into a nearby tray. “Wouldn’t put it past them to slip an engagement announcement into tonight’s festivities. You know how they like their surprises.”

Clicking his tongue, Satoru runs a hand through his hair, deliberately messing it up again.

“Yeah, well… first sign of trouble and I’m teleporting the hell out of there.”

A quiet chuckle slips through Suguru’s lips, but there’s no humor in it.

“And then what?” his voice softens, but the words weigh heavier. “You gonna outrun your own clan forever? Your duty?”

Satoru shrugs. “If I have to.” He’s grinning, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

With quiet consideration, Suguru exhales, watching Satoru with a mixture of amusement and exhaustion. But this time, it’s not his reflection he’s looking at. It’s him—standing there in those ceremonial robes, draping over him like chains, wearing arrogance like armor.

“You… really think it’s that simple?”

Satoru doesn’t hesitate. His grin sharpens, flashing white teeth like a blade.

“Of course it is. I’m Satoru fucking Gojo.”

Though Suguru’s expression doesn’t shift, his gaze darkens, something quiet and knowing creeping into his features.

“Yeah…” he murmurs. “You are.”

“C’mon, you think they actually care?” He pauses, eyes flicking to Suguru through the mirror. “This isn’t about me. It’s about the name. The bloodline. Hell, they’d be throwing this same party for a rock if it had the Six Eyes.”

There’s a lingering silence.

Through the mirror, Satoru sees Suguru’s expression shift—his posture still loose but somehow weighted, as if each breath he takes is heavier with words unspoken. Suguru’s long raven hair falls slightly into his face, but it doesn’t quite hide the quiet strain pulling at his features.

“Damn…” Satoru exhales sharply through his nose. “You look like shit, man.”

Suguru blinks, briefly startled, before scoffing, rolling his eyes as he flicks ash into the tray beside him.

“Gee, thanks.”

But Satoru doesn’t let up. His gaze lingers, cutting through pretenses like a blade.

“No, seriously. Have you slept at all this week? ‘Cause from here, you look like you’re about to keel over.”

Suguru lets out a quiet chuckle, but it’s weak, hollow—gone before it ever really forms.

“Yeah…” he lifts the cigarette back to his lips, taking another slow drag. “I dunno. ‘m just tired.”

The ember burns bright for a moment, casting sharper shadows along his best friend’s face—deepening the lines of exhaustion—a quiet weight that Satoru’s been too busy to address. Then, clicking his tongue, Satoru focuses back to the mirror, dragging a hand through his hair with careless ease.

“You’re thinking too much again…” he mutters. “Always a bad sign.”

“Yeah, well...” Suguru exhales, smoke curling lazily around him. “Guess someone’s gotta do it.”

Quirking a brow, Satoru turns toward him fully this time.

“Oh, fuck off.”

Suguru smirks, but it’s small, faint—the kind that barely lifts the corners of his lips before disappearing altogether. As he leans back against the wooden frame of the window, his fingers tap against his arm, holding the cigarette loosely in his grip.

“What are you thinking about?” Satoru asks.

Suguru quirks a brow before he huffs, shaking his head slightly.

The silence sits heavier this time. There’s something distant in his expression—like his thoughts are a step ahead of him, somewhere neither of them can quite reach. Flicking the cigarette between his fingers, he taps ash into the tray with slow precision.

“I’m just wondering…” Suguru mutters, his voice quieter now, something careful in the way he says it. “If you weren’t who you are—would they still be kneeling at your feet?”

Satoru blinks.

“Uh. Duh.”

Suguru scoffs, shaking his head, his fingers tightening slightly around his bicep.

“No, Satoru. If you weren’t—” He stops himself, exhaling sharply through his nose, his jaw flexing slightly like he wants to say something but doesn’t trust himself to. Instead, he shakes his head. “Never mind…”

Satoru’s gaze narrows.

“Um. The hell was that? You can’t just say something cryptic and then drop it.”

For a moment, there’s something unspoken between them—something lingering just beneath the surface, pressing at the space between words. Then, just as quickly, Suguru’s expression smooths over. Whatever flicker of thought had been there vanishing behind an effortless, practiced mask.

“It’s nothing.”

It wasn’t.

But whatever it was, Suguru wasn’t going to say it.

Exhaling through his nose, Satoru watches him for a second longer before rolling his shoulders—shaking off the conversation entirely.

“Anyways,” he sighs, stretching his arms above his head as he strides toward the door, loose and unaffected, like he’s just heading out for a stroll instead of stepping into the weight of his legacy.

As he passes the lacquered table, his hand instinctively reaches for his sunglasses, flipping them open with a careless flick before sliding them onto the bridge of his nose.

Suguru’s gaze drags back to him, eyes lingering over the contrast of expensive, embroidered silk and dark tinted glasses. He smirks. “Doesn’t really fit the robes.”

Satoru groans, shoving his sunglasses up into his hairline before letting them drop back onto his nose.

“Tch. I know, I know. Too fucking modern for their delicate sensibilities, right?”

Suguru chuckles, putting out his cigarette. “Something like that.”

With a resigned huff, Satoru tosses the sunglasses onto the table with a clatter.

“Fine fine…” he grumbles, pausing—considering. A wicked smile curls onto his lips. “Hey… what do you think—should I blindfold myself instead and pretend I can’t find the stage? Give ‘em a little show?”

Suguru barks out a short laugh, shaking his head as he exhales.

“You’re really gonna make a fucking scene on your own celebration?”

“Oh, Suguru,” Satoru’s grin is all teeth as he makes his way toward the door. “Make a scene? When have I ever done that?”

Suguru gives him a long, slow look as he follows.

“Do you want that list alphabetically or chronologically?”

Satoru snorts. “Smartass.” He shoves the door open without hesitation. “Y’think I can piss off at least three elders before the night’s over?”

“Mm... four, if you really try.”

“That’s the spirit.”

And as Satoru steps forward—toward the weight of a legacy that meant nothing to him, Suguru lingers behind him, watching as Satoru walks ahead, carrying the world like it’s weightless.

But Suguru knows better.

He always has.

༻༺ꨄ༻༺

“Stand up straight,” your mother murmurs quietly—so soft that only you can hear it. “And try not to stare.”

Your spine straightens instinctively, shoulders pressing back—but stare? Fuck. How can you not? The Gojo estate is unlike anything you have ever stepped foot in.

The ceilings stretch impossibly high, wooden beams arching overhead like the ribs of some celestial beast. Hand-painted fusuma panels line the walls, gold leaf catching the candlelight, depicting Kyoto’s landscapes in elegant brushstrokes. There is a stillness here—something ancient, untouched by time. Unshaken by war or weakness.

A faint trace of aged incense lingers in the air, blending with the clean scent of fresh tatami, wrapping around you like something sacred—a quiet reminder that tradition is absolute here.

The steady flow of guests direct you down the grand walkway, toward the main hall, and the air hums with low voices—silk robes rustling as elders and elite sorcerers file in, taking their assigned seats.

Assigned by status.

The highest-ranking families settle nearest to the center of the hall, where Gojo Satoru will take his place, while the lesser clans drift toward the outer edges, far enough to understand their place.

You barely register it.

Because just beyond the walkway, past a row of sliding doors left slightly open, something catches your eye.

A dojo.

Wide and open, its polished wooden floors gleam under the dim glow of candlelight. Tall, arched windows invite in the cool night air, carrying the rustling of bamboo from the gardens beyond. Along the walls, beautifully crafted bokken rest neatly in their racks beside long naginata and aged katana, their lacquered hilts gleaming faintly.

It is… perfect.

Unlike anything your own estate has ever had. A proper space for training—not the rigid, structured sessions dictated by the elders, but something freer. A place to move, to breathe, to fight.

God… it’s everything you’ve always wanted.

After all, your clan was built on precision, control, intelligence. Not raw combat. You have trained—mastered every movement drilled into you since childhood—but never were you allowed to spar without restraint. Never trained to be a sorcerer, never encouraged to fight in a way that would leave bruises—that would stain silk with sweat and blood.

You were raised to be a perfect reflection of your family, a perfect wife—that is all.

And yet, here it is. Fuck. A proper dojo—what a dream. So perfectly built for battle, yet it’s tucked into the halls of the most powerful clan in Jujutsu society, probably taken for granted as if it were nothing.

As your steps slow, you barely realize how long you’ve been staring, until you feel the lightest tug on your sleeve.

“Enough,” your mother mutters, grip light but firm.

Your heart jumps. Shit. It was one thing to observe. To admire. But it was another to linger.

“Eyes forward,” she lifts her chin, and you follow her deeper inside.

Moving ahead, the crowd shifts around you, elders and elite sorcerers weaving through the grand hall, settling into their assigned seats—but damn it. You’re still thinking about that damn dojo.

What must it be like to strike and be struck back, to train not just for form but for battle?

But your mother’s grip subtly shifts. Tightening.

Then, with the slightest turn of her head, she murmurs, “…w-what? Where did he go…”

Your breath stills as you realize, your father is no longer beside her. Glancing around, he is nowhere to be seen, lost in the sea of flowing silk and quiet murmurs. But you don’t need to ask where he’s gone—you already know. And… so does she.

Despite it, she doesn’t curse. Doesn’t let her expression falter. Doesn’t break stride. But you see the way your mother’s lips press together, the way her fingers curl slightly against the sleeve of her kimono, gripping fabric like it’s the only thing she can control.

A slow, measured breath leaves her nose. Then, with a practiced ease, she smooths out the folds of her sleeve.

“Wait at your seat…” she instructs softly. “I’ll find him.”

And just like that, she is gone.

It’s not the first time.

Not the first time she’s swallowed the weight of his absence, nor the first time she’s forced herself to chase after a man who has never once stopped running. A man who dishonors her with such frequency that it no longer feels like betrayal—only expectation.

And she goes anyway. Every time.

Why?

You begin to ponder.

How many wives have had to smile through disgrace, bound by duty to men who do not see them? How many have sat in silence, enduring the quiet disintegration of a marriage, knowing their suffering is only theirs to bear?

The thought lingers as you move toward your assigned seat, your steps slow, lost in quiet contemplation. You barely register the way silk brushes against you, the flickering candlelight casting shifting shadows across the polished floors.

“You’re in my seat.”

The words are crisp. Clipped.

You barely have time to process them before the weight of who they belong to settles in your chest like stone. Glancing up, your stomach drops.

Shit.

You’ve sat in the wrong seat.

Not just any seat.

His seat.

Gojo Hajime.

An elder of the Gojo clan. A man whose presence alone commands respect and caution in equal measure. His reputation is built upon unforgiving discipline, a fierce advocate for upholding the hierarchy that governs jujutsu society. You have seen how lesser-ranked sorcerers bow deeper in his presence, how his voice alone is enough to quiet a whole fucking room.

And you—you—have just taken his seat.

You should apologize. Immediately. Stand, lower your head, bow so deeply your knees kiss the floor—but you don’t even get the chance. Because the moment your lips part, his voice cuts through the air again.

“How disgraceful.”

The murmurs start immediately. Soft at first. Rippling outward.

A misplaced seat is not just an accident—it is an insult. A disruption to the hierarchy, an unspoken challenge to status. And it is not just your mistake—it is your family’s.

Eyes begin to turn.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Your heart hammers against your ribs, panic coiling tight in your stomach. You can feel the weight of scrutiny, the silent condemnation pressing against your skin like needles. But just as the tension threatens to crack open, before you can even move, before you can correct your mistake—

“Damn,” a voice cuts in. “I didn’t know we had assigned seats based on grumpiness. If that’s the case, maybe we oughta scoot you a little further up, gramps.”

The murmurs die instantly. A ripple of silk as heads turn, a breath caught collectively in the throats of the room.

Because everyone knows that voice.

Gojo Satoru.

And when you finally force yourself to look, when you finally shift your gaze toward the source of your salvation, you find yourself staring into the bluest damn eyes you’ve ever seen.

They are a color not meant for this world—icy, piercing, almost otherworldly under the flickering candlelight. Not simply blue, but something deeper, something endless, like the sky when it stretches too far, too high, too unreachable.

And then, just as effortlessly, he drops into the seat beside you.

“Hope ya don’t mind if I sit here, gramps,” he sighs, propping his chin against his palm with a lazy grin. “Since, y’know… you’re already standing.”

The elder bristles.

“Gojo-sama…” he says slowly, voice strained. “Seats are assigned with purpose.”

Satoru exhales loudly, stretching his neck. “Right, right,” he drawls. “And lemme guess—some dusty old men in a room decided where everyone sits?”

“The council—”

“Right, right,” he interjects, waving a dismissive hand. “The same council that decided I needed to wear this stiff-ass robe tonight.” He tugs at the embroidered silk draped over his shoulders for emphasis before flashing a sharp grin. “Real forward thinkers, those guys.”

A flicker of disbelief passes over the elder’s face.

Satoru hums, tapping his fingers idly against the table. “Tell ya what… since I’m feeling generous tonight, how ‘bout we just let it slide? Y’know, pretend we’re not wasting all this energy over a damn seat?” He leans back, stretching his arms over his head, his voice dropping to something lower, lazier. “Unless, of course, you’d rather keep arguing with me in front of all these lovely guests? On my birthday, need I remind you?”

The words are spoken lightly, casually, but there’s an underlying challenge in them—something daring, something edged with amusement, as if he already knows how this will end.

And the elder does, too. Because what can he say? What will he do? It’s a battle he can’t win. Not against the strongest.

A long breath drags through his nose before he bows his head stiffly.

“…as you wish, Gojo-sama.”

Satoru grins, entirely pleased with himself. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”

With that, the elder moves stiffly to another seat, the murmurs gradually settling into quiet acceptance, though you can still feel the lingering weight of curious glances thrown your way.

And finally—finally—your lungs remember how to breathe.

You should say something. Thank him. But before you can, Satoru turns his attention to you, tilting his head slightly, that easy smirk still curving his lips.

“There,” his fingers play idly with a tousle of your hair, letting it twirl between his grasp. “A lady of your caliber deserves the best seat in the house, don’t y’think?”

You blink, still caught between lingering panic and something dangerously close to awe.

Because just like that, with a grin and a few well-placed words, he had made a mockery of the entire situation. Had turned the weight of expectation into something trivial, something meaningless.

Had made defiance look so damn effortless. And for the first time tonight, you wonder what it would be like to live that freely.

Satoru watches you, head tilted slightly, as if waiting for something. Amusement flickers in those ridiculously bright eyes, sharp and unreadable beneath the flickering candlelight.

You realize then—you haven’t said a word.

Shit.

Heat pricks at the back of your neck. You force yourself to blink, to breathe, to gather the scattered remains of your dignity before finally managing, “…oh, um… t-thank you, Gojo-sama.”

He exhales sharply through his nose, shaking his head. “Ugh. Don’t do that.”

You blink. “…do what?”

“That whole ‘Gojo-sama’ thing. Bleh.” He scrunches his nose, expression twisted in exaggerated distaste. “You make me sound old.”

You hesitate, caught between confusion and amusement. “But… you’re the Clan Head now.”

He groans dramatically, dragging a hand through his hair. “Ugh. Don’t remind me.”

Your lips twitch, just barely suppressing a laugh, and his gaze flickers to you at that, something playful sparking in his eyes. Leaning in slightly, his elbows rest on the low table, voice dropping to something conspiratorial.

“You wouldn’t believe how many speeches I’ve had to sit through already. I swear, they’ve been reciting my life story like I’m some kind of historical relic.”

You raise a brow. “…aren’t you?”

Satoru gasps, clutching his chest like you just struck him. “Wow. The betrayal.”

Shaking your head in amusement, you finally allow a small laugh to slip out.

“I… didn’t mean it like that.”

“Uh-huh.” He squints at you in mock suspicion before his lips stretch back into an easy grin. “Alright, I’ll let that one slide, since I like you.”

Your stomach does a strange little flip.

It’s nothing… right? Just the nerves. The residual stress from earlier. The weight of too many eyes lingering in the periphery.

But as he watches you—head tilting slightly, like he’s trying to figure you out—you don’t know what the hell to say. And yet… you also find yourself not wanting to look away.

Because Satoru Gojo is beautiful. Undeniably.

He is elegance without effort, arrogance without apology, a man who moves through the world like it was built to accommodate him. His snowy-white hair is a tousled mess, catching silver beneath the candlelight, framing the sharp angles of his jaw, the high curve of his cheekbones, the ever-present smirk tugging at his lips.

And his eyes—God, his eyes.

They aren’t just blue. They’re endless. A shade too sharp, too striking—like fractured gemstones, like glacial ice catching the light at just the right angle. They don’t just see, they consume, pulling you in as if the whole fucking world just disappears when he looks at you.

What the hell are you supposed to say to him?

Shit. You’re lingering again. Your mother would curse you for this. You should speak—say something, anything. But the words never come.

Luckily, you don’t have to figure it out.

Because just then, a sharp chime rings through the grand hall, signaling the start of the formal ceremony. A ripple of movement stirs through the guests as heads turn toward the center of the room, where the elders begin to take their places.

Satoru exhales, stretching his arms overhead in a lazy arc. “Guess that’s my cue.”

He rises smoothly, adjusting the heavy silk of his robes with little care, as if he’s already bored of the whole affair. But then—before stepping away—he casts you one last glance, that ever-present grin still playing at the edges of his lips.

“See ya around, sweetheart.”

And then, like this entire night is nothing more than a game to him, he waves, casting you a playful wink. Casual. Effortless. Like you’re old friends. Like this moment, fleeting as it is, belongs to just the two of you—despite the dozens of eyes still lingering in your direction.

And, without hesitation, he turns, stepping toward the center of the room, where the weight of his legacy awaits him.

༻༺ꨄ༻༺

The ceremony is exactly what Satoru expected—long, tedious, and filled with more self-important speeches than he cares to count. The elders take turns praising the significance of his ascension, the legacy he carries, the burden he must now bear.

As if he doesn’t already fucking know. As if the weight of the Gojo name hasn’t pressed against his spine since the moment he was born.

He stands at the center of it all, a crownless king in layered silk, his every move watched, measured, and judged by the dozens of expectant faces surrounding him.

Whatever. Let them say whatever they want.

Because at the end of the day—he is still Gojo Satoru. And they can dress him up in their finest robes, seat him at the highest throne, weigh him down with the expectations of an entire clan—but they can’t make him care.

And they know it.

So, when the speeches end and the ritual formalities dissolve into something more palatable—celebration, sake, music—the real scheming begins.

The moment the first note is played, an elder clears his throat. Satoru doesn’t even look up.

“We have taken the liberty of selecting your first dance, Gojo-sama,” the man says, hands folded neatly in his sleeves, the picture of diplomatic grace. “She is from a highly esteemed bloodline. A perfect candidate for marriage and—”

Satoru groans. Loudly.

“Oh, come on.” He drags a hand down his face, tilting his head back like this entire conversation physically pains him. “You’re really pulling the marriage card already? I just fucking turned eighteen.”

The elder’s expression doesn’t shift. Doesn’t falter. They’ve played this game with him before. They know Gojo Satoru only bends when it suits him.

“We must get ahead of things. And it is tradition for the head of the Gojo Clan to take his first dance with a suitable partner—”

“Right, right.” Satoru waves a dismissive hand, eyes scanning the room for anything more interesting than this conversation. “And lemme guess—she’s got a nice lineage, proper manners, and the personality of a wet napkin?”

A pause as the elder clears his throat. Yeah. That’s all the confirmation he needs.

Satoru exhales, shaking his head, fingers drumming lazily against the lacquered armrest of his chair.

“Yeah… I think I’ll pass,” he’s rising from his seat as the elder begins ushering a poised, graceful young woman towards him—clad in silk, the color of cherry blossoms.

Satoru doesn’t even look at her.

He’s looking for an escape, and as his eyes sweep the crowd, he sees you.

The girl from earlier.

And just like that, his mind is made up.

Before the elder can say another word, before the girl can step any closer, Satoru moves.

Not toward her.

Toward you.

༻༺ꨄ༻༺

“Dance with me.”

You blink, gaze dropping to his hand, extended toward you, palm open, fingers relaxed.

It’s not a request.

It’s a decision.

A disruption—a defiance of everything expected of him.

And the room knows it.

The air seems to tighten, a subtle shift in the atmosphere as hushed murmurs flicker between the guests, silk rustling as heads turn. The weight of attention presses against your skin, heavier than the finest-woven kimono, heavier than the eyes of your parents, now fixed on you, unreadable.

Your lips part slightly, but no words come. Fuck. You should at least breathe. But you don’t. You can’t. Your mind is barely processing what the fuck is happening.

Then, a quiet but pointed sound—your mother clearing her throat beside you.

“She would love to.”

Her voice is soft, but firm, a smooth, graceful assertion that leaves no room for question. A response crafted not for you, but for those watching, those weighing this moment, those who will whisper about it long after the night ends. Because this is not just a dance. This is a spectacle. A shift in the script carefully written for the evening.

And your mother knows that. To refuse would be foolish. To hesitate would be disgraceful. To accept, however—

An honor.

So, when she turns toward you, offering the smallest, most practiced of smiles, you understand her meaning entirely.

You will dance with Satoru Gojo.

With a breath you weren’t aware you had been holding, you glance back toward him. He’s watching you, amusement flickering in those impossibly blue eyes, that lazy, knowing grin still curling at his lips.

“See?” he hums. “Mother knows best.”

You don’t know what possesses you—perhaps the weight of expectation, or perhaps something else entirely—but your hand lifts. Fingers barely brushing against his before he takes it completely, enclosing it in a grasp that is warm, steady, unwavering.

And just like that, he pulls you into the center of the room.

Into the center of everything.

His grip is firm but unhurried as he leads you, like none of this is a big deal. Like he hasn’t just overturned an entire evening’s worth of careful tradition.

Your heartbeat thuds in your ears, your breath barely finding its way back into your lungs as you let him guide you into position. One of his hands settles lightly at your waist, the other still holding yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles absentmindedly.

“Relax,” he murmurs, just low enough for only you to hear. “You’re stiffer than my old kendo instructor.”

You huff, trying to ignore the warmth of his palm against yours. “I—this is just… unexpected.”

Exhaling dramatically, he spins you effortlessly into the first steps of dance. “Tell me about it,” he groans. “You just saved me from another goddamn elder trying to shove some proper young lady into my arms.”

You blink. “What?”

“Oh yeah,” he drawls, twirling you smoothly before pulling you back into his grasp. “The matchmaking schemers are working overtime tonight. Bet they’re seething right now.”

You stifle a laugh. “So… you picked me out of spite?”

“I picked you because you looked like you needed saving too.” His eyes flicker toward you, sharp but warm, like he’s seeing straight through you.

You hesitate. He’s… not wrong.

“Well… my mother was about to give me a very long lecture about decorum,” you admit quietly.

His grin widens as he hums. “Guess that makes me your knight in shining silk, huh?”

You roll your eyes, but the laughter bubbling in your chest betrays you.

Satoru’s grip shifts slightly, his hand pressing just a fraction firmer against your waist as he leads you through another step. He moves so effortlessly, like the weight of expectation never touches him, like the rules of this world bend just for him.

For a moment, the heaviness in the air fades.

For a moment, you almost forget the crowd watching.

For a moment… it’s just the two of you.

As the melody slows—the last few notes stretch through the grand hall like a fading breath—you barely register the shifting of the crowd around you. It feels like the world has shrunk.

And then, stillness. The dance is over.

You should step away. You should let go.

But Satoru lingers.

His fingers remain curled lightly around yours, as if he’s forgotten to let go—or maybe he just doesn’t feel like doing so yet. His touch is warm, steady, and entirely too deliberate for someone who seems to take nothing seriously.

As his gaze drops to your hand for a fraction of a second, his smirk deepens, something unreadable flashing in those impossible blue eyes. Then, with a casual ease—like it’s the most natural thing in the world—he lifts your hand slightly and presses a chaste kiss to your knuckles.

Soft. Unhurried.

Barely a brush of his lips against your skin, but enough to send something fluttering wildly in your stomach.

Damn him.

You feel it everywhere—the warmth of his breath against your skin, the way his hold lingers a second too long before he finally lets go. When your hand drops back to your side, it’s still tingling from the contact, and you know you should say something, but your tongue feels too damn heavy in your mouth again.

Satoru, however, looks perfectly at ease, like he hadn’t just turned your world sideways with a single fleeting kiss. Still, the moment stretches—something about it feels… different. A beat too long, a silence that carries something unspoken.

But when he shifts, the moment simmers away as he turns his head slightly, his attention suddenly caught by something beyond you. Or, someone.

Geto Suguru. His best friend.

His posture loosens as he exhales through his nose, casting you a final glance. “Well, sweetheart,” he drawls lazily, taking a step back. “Hate to dance and dash, but duty calls.”

And just like before, he lifts a hand in that same casual wave, and winks—slipping back into the crowd with the ease of someone who has done this a hundred times before.

Following his gaze, you look just past the cluster of mingling sorcerers, at the figure leaning lazily against one of the wooden pillars. His dark long hair falls across his shoulders, his arms are folded neatly into the side sleeves of his yukata, and his eyes are half-lidded, bored.

Satoru reaches him in just a few strides, and whatever the two of them exchange is lost to you beneath the hum of the room—but they’re laughing, at ease.

Exhaling slowly, you force your trembling hands to steady at your sides, your racing heart to settle, remembering where you are. Because the world moves on. The music starts anew. The guests return to their conversations.

But you don’t. Not yet.

Because this—this is something you’ll remember. The night you first met Gojo Satoru.

The night you first saw him for who he was—not just the head of the Gojo Clan, not just the strongest, but something untouchable, something defiant. Something free.

And maybe, just maybe, a small part of you will always hold onto that moment.

A moment you wish you could claim for yourself.

༻༺ꨄ༻༺

Seven years have passed since that night. Seven years since the weight of an entire clan was draped over his shoulders like a silk noose.

Gojo Satoru is still the strongest, still the untouchable ruler of the Gojo Clan, but the years have done little to change the one thing the elders have always hated about him—he refuses to be controlled.

But their patience is wearing thin.

The moment he steps into the council chamber, Satoru already knows he’s going to hate every second of this.

Same old stiff-ass room, same old stiff-ass elders. The walls lined with painted screens depicting wars won centuries ago, incense burning in the background like it’s meant to cleanse him of his sins or some shit. He exhales loudly, rolling his shoulders back, then strolls forward with all the urgency of a man walking to his own execution.

Dropping lazily onto the tatami, Satoru lets out a long, exaggerated sigh.

“Alright,” he drawls, popping his neck with a slow tilt of his head. “Let’s hear it. What crime have I committed this time?”

A tense silence follows.

Gojo Hiroshi, the eldest of the council, lets out a long, deliberate sigh, his sharp gaze steady beneath thick silver brows. “Your inappropriate conduct has reached our ears again.”

Satoru smirks. “Oh? I’ve got fans? You geezers keeping tabs on me now?”

His words are met with cold, unimpressed stares.

“You mustn’t treat this as a joke,” another elder chimes in, voice lined with restrained patience. “Your recklessness is a stain upon our clan’s legacy.”

Satoru scoffs. “Recklessness? I’m pretty sure I’ve saved more lives than any of you sitting here. Y’know, by doing my actual job.”

“The strongest should not act so carelessly,” Hiroshi cuts in. “And yet, all you do is goof off. Throwing yourself around, jumping from woman to woman, acting like some common fool—”

Satoru groans loudly, tipping his head back with a dramatic sigh. “God, is this really about me having a good time? I hate to break it to ya, old man, but I’m twenty-five, not fifty. Maybe if you all had a little fun in your youth, you wouldn’t be so damn uptight.”

The closest elder levels him with a stern glare. “We have tolerated your… indulgences long enough.”

“You speak of a ‘good time’,” another elder continues, fingers steepled together. “But you must consider the future. This—this frivolity—must end.”

Satoru clicks his tongue, tapping his fingers lazily against his knee. “Yeah? And just where are ya gettin’ at, gramps?”

Silence. A slow exchange of glances between them.

Satoru watches as they silently decide who will be the one to say it. They always do this. Always sit in their stiff little circles, acting like their words carry the weight of gods.

Finally, Hiroshi exhales, slow and measured, before speaking.

“The next leader of the Gojo Clan must be born.”

There it is.

Satoru lets out a slow, exaggerated breath, tilting his head back. “Man… you guys really need a new hobby.”

“We have been patient,” Hiroshi continues, ignoring him. “But the time for childish defiance is over.”

Satoru’s lips twitch. Childish? He could wipe this entire damn room off the map if he wanted. Not that he would, though—he’s mostly reasonable.

An elder shifts slightly, fingers curling over the edge of a plain, unassuming folder resting beneath his palm, and as Satoru’s gaze flicks to it, recognition flares.

Ugh. Not this bullshit again.

This isn’t new. He knows what’s inside. A folder full of names. A folder of candidates—eligible women, bloodlines deemed strong enough, clans deemed worthy. A relic of a past he never fucking asked for.

His irritation spikes as he begins to rise.

“Yeah, so… fuck this. I’m gonna stop ya right there—”

“You will sit down, Satoru.”

The words are sharp. Final. Satoru freezes mid-step, the weight behind them pressing like a blade against his spine.

The fucking audacity. A command? A fucking order?!

Exhaling through his nose, he bites back the burn of frustration clawing up his throat. “Nah,” he mutters, waving a dismissive hand as he turns on his heel. “Fuck off.”

“The next leader of the Gojo Clan must be born.”

Satoru stops.

A slow laugh bubbles up from his chest—sharp, humorless, before turning back to face them. Tilting his head, an icy chill threads his voice.

“Let me get this fucking straight. You dragged me all the way here, wasted my precious time, just to tell me I need to knock someone up? Wow.” He lets out a sharp whistle, slowly clapping his hands together in mock awe. “Out of all of your excuses, this one takes the fucking cake.”

“You fail to take this seriously,” Hiroshi’s voice is quieter than the others, but heavier in its own way. “You never have.”

Satoru’s jaw tightens. “Maybe because I don’t need to. I’m the strongest, remember?”

“And yet,” Hiroshi exhales, “even the strongest will one day fall.”

The words settle in the air like a foregone truth. Satoru doesn’t flinch. But something in his jaw ticks, barely perceptible.

Even the strongest will one day fall.

He hates the way those words burrow under his skin, clawing at something he doesn’t want to acknowledge.

“You refuse to take a wife. You refuse to consider the future,” Hiroshi continues, voice steady. “You’ve left us no choice. And so, we have taken it upon ourselves to make the choice for you. Marriage arrangements are already in place.”

Satoru’s brow furrows—a seething rage building underneath his skin. Pulling down his blindfold in a slow, deliberate movement, he reveals the impossible, piercing blue of his Six Eyes.

“Excuse me?”

The air shifts, thickening under the weight of power, of warning—of a challenge.

For a moment, all he can hear is the rush of his own blood in his ears. And then, just beneath the suffocating weight of his own fury, another voice cuts through.

‘You gonna outrun your own clan forever? Your duty?’

A memory. A voice.

Suguru.

The words hit him like a hammer, striking something raw, something he thought he buried a long time ago.

Geto Suguru.

His best friend. His brother. The one person who had ever truly understood him. The only person who could ever match him step for step, thought for thought.

The person he lost. A man who had abandoned all right or reason. Who had turned his back on everything. On Jujutsu High. On their ideals. On him.

And suddenly, the weight of it all presses heavier on Satoru’s shoulders. It feels suffocating. Because for the first time in years, something inside him wavers. And damnit… that pisses him off.

With a sharp step forward, Satoru’s hand snatches the folder from the table in one swift motion, the rustle of paper slicing through the silence like a blade.

The room tenses as he flips it open, eyes scanning the pages, the names, the faces—the future they’ve decided for him.

As he goes through its contents, a folder he’s seen often but never truly looked into, he realizes it’s exactly what he expected—polished profiles, lists of pedigreed women, hand-selected for their bloodlines, their breeding, their usefulness.

Every file reads the same.

Perfect posture. Proper etiquette. Skilled in traditional arts. Fluent in tea ceremonies. Raised to serve, obey, bear children.

Gross.

His brow furrows in irritation as he skims through the neatly cataloged qualities, as if he’s browsing a fucking menu.

Expert in tea ceremonies. Elegant calligraphy. Well-versed in ikebana.

Exhaling sharply through his nose, he flips to the next file with a flick of his wrist.

Gentle temperament. Raised to uphold family honor. Culinary excellence.

Jesus.

It’s all the same.

Not a single original thought, not a single fucking thing that isn’t meant to mold them into perfect little wives and mothers.

Satoru’s fingers twitch as disgust curls up his throat.

What? Is he supposed to just pick one, put a ring on her, fuck her like some obligation? Breed an heir with a woman whose only defining trait is knowing how to arrange flowers?

Tch.

He’s already itching to slam the folder shut and walk out of this room, consequences be damned.

But then—he halts. His gaze briefly catching on a familiar face.

You.

A picture clipped neatly to your file, just like all the others, but something about it makes him pause.

He knows you… right?

Or—at least, you look somewhat familiar.

Satoru has slept with countless women, but he’s pretty damn sure he’d remember if you were one of them. Plus… you’re a virgin, according to your file, so… that can’t be it.

He scans the page with mild curiosity, barely reading at first—and low and behold, it’s another list of fucking perfect traits designed to impress him.

Cooking. Baking. Floral arrangements.

Right. Of course. Same as the rest.

But then, his eyes flick lower.

Martial arts.

His brow lifts.

Huh. Now that’s new.

Shifting his weight, his gaze lingers on that one detail.You practice martial arts? Interesting.

The corner of his lips twitch, intrigue curling at the edges of his amusement as he flips through the rest of your file—skimming for anything else that isn’t some prim manufactured selling point.

Not much stands out amongst the crowd, expect that, yeah, you’re hot too. That certainly doesn’t hurt.

If they’re really forcing him to do this shit—if he really has to fuck a woman and produce an heir—he’s at least going to pick someone who can actually hold his attention. Hell, if he has to fuck her, she better be someone who can at least get his dick up.

Exhaling through his nose, his eyes flicker back up to the elders, their bated breaths held with anticipation.

“…fine,” he mutters, “I’ll marry.”

A ripple of movement shifts immediately—a murmur of approval.

“But.” His voice cuts through their satisfaction like a knife. “Cancel whatever bullshit arrangement you had planned.” His Six Eyes gleam as his gaze flickers up, sharp, glacial. “If I’m doing this,” he exhales, voice smooth as glass, “I’m doing it my way.”

And with that, he slams the folder down, open with a photo of you.

“I at least want a say in who the fuck I’m picking,” he mutters, voice cool, final. Then, his gaze flickers up. A smirk—sharp and defiant—curls at the corner of his lips. “So… there ya have it. I pick her.”

A beat of silence. Then another.

Satoru watches as the elders’ expressions shift as they take in your photo, their brows knitting together, their lips pressing into thin, disapproving lines. There’s something unspoken between them—hesitation. Uncertainty.

Jesus Christ... what now?

His fingers tap idly against the table, impatience curling at the edges of his composure. Rolling his eyes, he exhales sharply before plopping back down onto the tatami. 

“What?”  his irritation spikes, gaze flickering between the stiff-ass old men. “You gonna tell me she’s not good enough? That her tea ceremony etiquette isn’t up to your impossible fucking standards? She was in your folder!”

Silence.

Then, Gojo Hiroshi clears his throat.

“There is… history.” His words are careful, measured. “With her clan.”

Satoru lifts a brow, unimpressed. “Okay… and?”

A flicker of unease passes between the elders.

“Satoru,” another speaks, voice steady, placating. “Clan politics are not so simple—”

He scoffs. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. You think I give a shit about clan politics?”

More exchanged glances. More unreadable expressions. But Hiroshi remains still.

“It is not just politics…” he finally says, gaze unwavering. “There was a… scandal.”

Satoru exhales, fingers pausing mid-drum.

God, he fucking hates when people beat around the bush. His patience is wearing thin. He agreed, didn’t he? What the hell more do they want?

“Scandal?” he echoes, voice flat, uninterested. “Oh, let me guess. Daddy lost a business deal? Mommy hosted the wrong kind of dinner party? Spare me.”

A slow breath.

“…her family has been outcasted.”

A pause.

“Disgraced,” another adds. “Stripped of their status. They have nothing. They live in ruin.”

Arching a brow, Satoru lets the silence linger—lets them wait for him to grasp the supposed severity of the situation.

But he doesn’t give a shit about status.

He just wants these crusty old men off his back, and your folder was the least boring in that entire damn stack.

“…and?” his voice is flat. “I fail to see what the fuck any of this has to do with me. She was in your folder. That’s who I pick.”

The tension thickens as the air feels heavier. The elders remain silent, exchanging glances, waiting for him to finally understand—to realize what he’s signing up for.

Hiroshi is the one to finally speak.

“She comes with nothing now, Satoru,” his tone’s heavier now. “She was a suitable candidate… yes. But now? She has no wealth. No influence. Her mother is drowning in debt. If you choose her, you will be marrying into ruin.”

Satoru groans, loudly, dragging a hand down his face. He’s so fucking tired of this conversation. With a sigh, he rises, reaching into his pocket for his blindfold.

“You old geezers really think I give a shit about money?” he mutters, shaking out the fabric before sliding it over his eyes slowly—like he’s already disengaging from the conversation. “God, you’re all so dramatic. I’m loaded. Who fucking cares.”

“Satoru—”

“I said I’d marry. It’s her or nothing,” his voice is final, unwavering.

The folder snaps shut in his hands, the sharp sound slicing through the hushed tension. A flick of his wrist sends it skidding back across the polished table.

“So, there you have it. Call her mother, we’ll draft an arrangement.”

A ripple of unease shifts through the council, their stiff expressions unreadable. Hiroshi’s brow knits. “An arrangement?”

Satoru exhales, rolling his shoulders, stretching his arms overhead like this entire conversation has physically exhausted him.

“Yup.” His fingers splay lazily as he waves a hand through the air, tone entirely too casual. “I’ll pay off their debts. In return, she marries me. Win-win. There. Easy.”

Then, that smirk—cocky, taunting—pulls at his lips as he leans back, tipping his chin up in mock amusement.

“Anyways. Good talk.” He pauses. “Sooo… uh. We done?”

༻༺ꨄ༻༺

“Eat.”

The command is soft but firm, breaking the silence that has stretched too long across the small table before you.

Your mother sits across from you, poised as ever, lifting her chopsticks with careful precision, plucking a small piece of tofu from her bowl. The once-pristine silk of her kimono has dulled with time, its ivory threads faded from wear, from struggle. But she wears it the same way she always has—with quiet dignity, spine straight, hands resting carefully in her lap, an image of control that nothing—not scandal, not exile—has managed to break.

She doesn’t look up as she speaks to you once more.

“You’re staring at your food again.”

You don’t remember the last time dinner felt this quiet.

Well, at least not this kind of quiet. This quiet is… different.

It’s not the quiet like when your father was still here—sitting where your mother is now, tapping idly at his phone, barely listening as you spoke about your day. Not like the quiet nights when he would come home late—smelling of perfume that didn’t belong to your mother.

Not like the quiet night he left—walking out the door, taking everything with him.

A soft clink pulls you back—the sound of your mother setting her chopsticks down with slow, deliberate care. When you lift your eyes, she is already watching you, her expression as unreadable as ever.

“You must eat.”

Picking up the chopsticks, your fingers feel stiff against the smooth wood. The miso soup in front of you has gone lukewarm, its thin broth barely fragrant, stretched with water to make it last longer. A meal meant to sustain, not satisfy.

“I’m… not hungry.”

Your mother doesn’t sigh. Doesn’t frown. She simply takes another bite of her meal, chewing with quiet deliberation before dabbing the corner of her mouth with a napkin.

“A weakened body leads to a weakened mind,” she murmurs. “You cannot afford to be careless with your health.”

You don’t roll your eyes, but damnit, the urge is there.

Even now, she speaks in lessons, in discipline. As if you still had a name to uphold, a family to represent. As if any of that mattered anymore.

Frustration coils in your stomach, tight and twisting, but you don’t let it show. Because she won’t. She never has.

Not even the night he left.

You still remember it—the way your mother stood there, unmoving, as your father walked out the door. No screaming. No pleading. No chasing after the man who had stolen everything from her, from you.

Just stillness. A quiet that swallowed everything—a quiet that never fucking leaves.

And then, the fallout.

The scandal that burned through the clan like wildfire. The disgrace. The exile. The slow, agonizing unraveling of everything you once knew.

You swallow hard, forcing the thoughts down, lifting your chopsticks to take a bite.

Because your mother doesn’t dwell on the past. She doesn’t even acknowledge it.

And so, neither do you.

Suddenly, a sharp ring slices through the air.

Your mother stills—her gaze lingering on the telephone for a moment before she moves, rising to her feet with effortless grace, lifting the phone to her ear.

“Hello?”

As she silently listens to whoever’s on the other line, her shoulders stiffen. It’s subtle, but you see it. The faint tightening of her jaw. The way her fingers curl around the receiver, gripping it just a fraction tighter than necessary.

“I see…”

Another pause.

“Yes. Understood.”

The quiet click of the receiver settling into its cradle echoes through the small room, and you study your mother for a moment as she remains still—motionless.

“…mother?”

When she turns, something flickers in her eyes. Not worry. Not resignation. Something else. Something you haven’t seen in years.

Hope.

“…we have been summoned.”

Smoothing down the fabric of her kimono, she settles back at the table—smiling serenely.

You blink. “Oh… okay. By who?”

“Gojo Satoru.”

༻༺ꨄ༻༺

A familiar weight settles over your shoulders as you step past the towering gates of the Gojo estate. It’s been so long since you last walked these halls, and yet you still remember the first time, seven years ago—the grand ceilings stretching impossibly high, the golden glow of lantern light against hand-painted fusuma panels, the hushed murmurs of Kyoto’s elite.

Now, as you pass through the inner courtyard, it is just as intimidating as you remember.

Just as breathtaking.

A servant bows low, silently ushering you toward the tea room, leading both you and your mother in graceful step. As the entrance nears, her voice breaks the silence.

“You will be on your best behavior,” she murmurs, not unkind, but firm.

Right… as if you needed the reminder.

Stepping inside, the tatami mats barely creak under your careful steps, and the scent of incense greets you first—rich, woody, cloying. A low table sits at its center, the lacquered wood polished to perfection, a ceremonial tea set already in place. And across from it, seated with an unmistakable air of ease, is him.

Gojo Satoru.

Even draped in expensive silk—his robes stitched with the distinguished colors of his clan—he carries himself with an irreverence that clashes against the rigid atmosphere of the room. One arm rests against the table, the other draped carelessly over his knee. His blindfold is absent, and for the first time in seven years, you once again meet those impossibly blue eyes head-on.

“Ah, there she is,” he hums, lips curling into a lazy grin. “Thought I was getting stood up.”

Your mother clears her throat pointedly, bowing in greeting. You quickly follow suit, the practiced motion ingrained in you.

“Gojo-sama,” she says smoothly, “it is an honor to be welcomed into your home.”

Satoru waves a dismissive hand, leaning back. “Yeah, yeah. Big honor. Let’s skip the formalities, huh?”

Seated around the table, the elders watch the exchange in silence, their presence heavy, suffocating. You recognize Gojo Hiroshi among them—his sharp, assessing gaze narrowing on you briefly.

Oh… awkward.

Is he still mad about his seat?

Hiroshi exhales, dragging his gaze to your mother. “We will discuss the terms of the arrangement in the study,” he says, voice calm, measured. “In the meantime, Gojo-sama and his intended should use this opportunity to… familiarize themselves.”

There’s a beat of silence.

Then, Satoru sighs—stretching his arms with a dramatic groan. “Right. Tea ceremonies. My favorite.”

Placing a gentle hand on your shoulder, your mother gives you a knowing glance, a silent reminder—behave.

And then, with a final bow, she follows the elders as they shuffle toward the adjoining room, their hushed voices retreating beyond the sliding doors. The quiet click of wood sliding echoes in the stillness, leaving just the two of you.

Alone with Gojo Satoru.

A familiar weight settles in your chest, something tight, uncertain. His gaze lingers—not scrutinizing, not cold, but assessing. And God, he’s just as beautiful as you remember him. Too beautiful. The same easy confidence. The same impossibly blue eyes that seem to pierce through everything.

You’ve always held onto that feeling from the first time you met him—what was it, exactly? Admiration?

“Well,” Satoru exhales, stretching his legs slightly beneath the table. “Guess it’s just us now.”

Something about the way he says it makes your tummy clench. Is that the admiration? Fuck, whatever. You know what this meeting is supposed to be. A display of grace, a demonstration of propriety. A wife’s first duty to her husband-to-be.

And so, you inhale, slow and controlled—reaching for the tea set.

“Care for some tea?” you murmur, lifting the delicate porcelain into your fingertips, moving through the familiar, measured motions of ceremony. Of tradition.

Lifting the teapot with both hands, you tilt it just so, allowing the warm liquid to pour in an elegant arc, no wasted movement, no hesitation. The way you were taught. The way it has always been.

Then, with just as much care, you offer it to him, your gaze respectfully lowered.

“Please… enjoy.”

With an unreadable expression, Satoru’s fingers brush against yours as he takes the cup from your hands. Exhaling through his nose, his eyes flicker down at the tea, before taking a slow sip.

There is an unnerving silence.

“Is it… to your liking?”

“Uh…” he shrugs, flashing a boyish grin. “Tastes like tea?”

You blink.

What are you supposed to say to that?

A growing nervousness flutters in your chest. Your mother is depending on you—don’t fuck this up. Nodding, your hands fold neatly in your lap as you recite the lines of tradition.

“It is an honor to serve you, Gojo-sama. May this tea be a reflection of the harmony I hope to uphold in our union.”

For a moment, nothing.

Then—Satoru laughs. Not a small chuckle. Not polite amusement. Full-bodied, head-tilted-back laughter.

It startles you, your body tensing at the sound as he sets his cup onto the table and doubles over, catching his breath between chuckles.

You stiffen. What the hell was so funny?

“…did I say something amusing?” you ask carefully.

Satoru waves a hand, shaking his head as he wipes beneath his eyes. “No, no. It’s just… wow. You really went full perfect wife mode, huh?”

Your brows pull together slightly. “Yes… well. It is only proper to conduct myself with—”

“Yeeeah… let’s not,” he waves a hand, leaning forward slightly, arms folding over the table. “You don’t have to do that with me, y’know.”

You hesitate. “Do… what?”

“That.” He gestures vaguely at you, expression amused but pointed. “The stiff politeness, the whole ‘it is an honor to serve you’ thing. Jeez… feels like I’m at another meeting with the elders.”

You blink, your fingers curling slightly against the fabric of your sleeve. “But… this is a formal arrangement.”

He hums, tapping a long finger against the porcelain cup. “Yeah, but we’re also people… aren’t we?”

His words catch you off guard.

People.

You’re not sure if you’ve ever been allowed to simply be that—just a person. Not an heiress, not a proper wife, not a disgraced daughter in need of redemption.

You glance at him, at Gojo Satoru, and suddenly… he doesn’t feel so unreachable.

Oh…

He’s the same as you remember—the man who saved you seven years ago. The one who made defiance look so effortless, so free.

Perhaps… with him, you can breathe. Live freely.

Shifting slightly, your fingers relax in your lap.

“…Very well,” you murmur. “Then how would you prefer I speak to you, Gojo-sama?”

Satoru exhales dramatically, tilting his head to the side. “Well for starters, drop the ‘Gojo-sama’ thing. Hate that.”

You bite back a smile. “It’s a title of respect.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he waves a hand. “But every time you say it, I feel like I need to go yell at some underlings or something. I’m twenty-five, not fucking ancient.”

Your lips twitch slightly. “Alright… what should I call you then?”

He grins. “Just Satoru s’good.”

“…mmkay,” you hesitate for a moment. “Satoru, then.”

His smile widens, pleased.

“Perfect.” He leans forward slightly, resting his chin against his palm, one long finger tapping against the table. “Now… be honest. You don’t actually like this crap, do you?”

You blink. “Pardon?”

“This.” He gestures vaguely at the tea set, the meticulously arranged porcelain, the lingering scent of incense curling in the air. “All this traditional, stiff-ass, sit-in-silence tea ceremony nonsense.”

Your fingers clench slightly in your lap. “It’s… important.”

Satoru hums, unimpressed. “Yeah, yeah. But do you like it?”

You hesitate. It’s a simple question. A stupid one, even. But for some reason, it feels… foreign. Like no one has ever asked before. You should say yes. It would be the correct answer. The proper one.

“…it’s familiar,” you settle on.

Satoru hums again, watching you closely. “That’s not a yes.”

Looking down at the tea in front of you, a quiet weight settles in your chest. Then—he leans back with a sigh, stretching his arms behind his head.

“Sooo… whadda say we ditch?”

You blink. “Huh?”

“I mean, c’mon,” he groans, tilting his head to the side like this is the most obvious thing in the world. “This is boring as hell. You don’t actually wanna sit here drinking tea all day, right?”

You lift a brow. “But… isn’t this what the elders want?”

Satoru’s grin turns sharp. Mischievous.

“Yeah, and I like pissing them off,” his voice dips slightly as he shifts closer. “So… let’s try something.”

He pats his lap. Once. Twice.

“C’mere,” he says, lazily.

You stare—heat rising up your neck, your fingers gripping the fabric in your lap.

“…what?”

Satoru lifts a brow. “What?” he echoes, with a grin. Then, he pats his thigh again, nonchalant. “You heard me. C’mere. Sit.”

You open your mouth, then close it. Then open it again. “Erm… how does… this have anything to do with ditching?”

“Hmm… maybe, it doesn’t.” Satoru shrugs, lips curling at the edges. “Maybe I just wanna see if you’ll do it.”

A pause. Your stomach flips. Your pulse skips. Your brain is screaming at you. This is improper. Completely inappropriate. Unbefitting of a proper woman, much less a bride-to-be.

And yet—

Fuck. He’s watching you with expectation, amusement, curiosity. Because this is Gojo Satoru. The man who has always done whatever the hell he wants—and somehow, that makes you feel like you can too.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you drag in a deep breath, then move—shifting onto your knees and leaning forward. With a quiet exhale, you turn, lowering yourself onto his lap, your back against his chest as your hands rest awkwardly in your lap.

The moment you settle, his arms curl around your waist. The air changes, and your heart flutters.

“…huh,” his voice is closer than expected, his breath warm against the shell of your ear. “Didn’t think you’d actually do it.”

You swallow, refusing to meet his gaze—when suddenly, the world bends.

Weightlessness seizes you—like free-falling, like slipping through space itself. Your stomach lurches as reality warps around you, fleeting, untethered—until solid ground finds you again.

A slow blink. Gone is the tea room.

Where the hell are you?

Soft lantern light flickers against dark wood and paper screens, casting shifting shadows along the floor. The air is crisp, laced with pine, and beyond the open veranda, a private onsen awaits—its surface steaming beneath the early evening sky, mist curling lazily across the mountain air like silk. The distant hum of cicadas thrums through the silence, the world around you untouched, secluded, still.

Satoru exhales, a pleased hum, shifting beneath you.

“Ahh, much better…”

Warm fingers thread through your hair. Slow, deliberate—gathering the strands to one side. You feel a brush of lips against your shoulder as he murmurs,

“…don’t you agree?”

Shit. The realization settles over you like heat—you’re still in his lap.

“Wha—” the room is hazy—you’re a bit breathless from the sudden shift in reality, and fuck, it’s mixing dangerously with the heat of his touch as his fingers slowly drag along your waist.

Hesitantly, you tilt your head back, meeting his eyes. Blue. Endless. Watching you. You should look away, but you don’t.

“Um…”

“Ta-da,” he murmurs smugly.

Shifting slightly, you try to will away the heat in your face, slipping away from his chest as you adjust. Your thighs drape over his lap now, half-facing him. And fuck—was that a mistake?

Because now, he’s all you can see.

Snowy white hair, framing a face too perfect to be real—his mouth curving into a lazy grin that makes your tummy clench in a way you’re entirely unfamiliar with.

“Where… are we?” you manage.

Satoru hums, shifting beneath you—his fingers dancing over the silk of your obi. “Oh… y’know,” his hand drags higher, resting just below the curve of your breast. “Just somewhere no one will bother us…”

As your dizzy mind tries to recalibrate from teleporting, you blink, finally processing the position you’re in. Or rather, the position he’s in—lounging on a shikifuton.

His fingers twirl the tie of your obi, and you tense, suddenly incredibly nervous.

“G-Gojo…”

He clicks his tongue. “Satoru.”

“Um…” his other hand begins to slide higher up your thigh. “S-Satoru,” you amend, barely above a whisper.

A dangerous grin. “Good girl.”

Oh. You’re fucked. A shudder rolls through you.

“This place… um…” you try to distract yourself with words. Because what the fuck are you supposed to do when he’s touching you like this?! “Its… not the estate, is it?”

“Nah,” he murmurs lazily. “One of my private villas.I’ve got property all over Japan, sweetheart. Figured I’d take you somewhere more… comfortable.”

Comfortable.

Because sitting in his lap counts as comfortable… right?

And shit. Just what is this heat coiling at the base of your stomach? It’s dizzying. You need to move—need space, need air. But as you shift, attempting to slip from his lap, his grip tightens.

“Ah, ah,” he tuts, hands steadying you with effortless strength. “Easy there, sweetheart.”

Your pulse stammers, and for a second, you forget to breathe.

“I—I just need to—”

“Stay put.” His fingers flex against your waist. Firm. Unyielding. “We just teleported. Move too fast, and you’ll tip over.”

As your lips begin to part—a protest forming—a sudden wave of dizziness washes over you. Your breath hitches as the edges of your vision blur for a fraction of a second, and you sway, balance slipping.

“Ohp. There it is.”

Satoru moves before you can even react.

One hand slips behind your back, the other finding your hand as he gently lays you back against the futon. The silk of your kimono pools around you as his palm slides back to the curve of your waist.

And suddenly, he’s everywhere.

Leaning over you, elbow propped up—half above, half beside you. A frame too broad, his snowy-white hair falling forward just slightly, strands ghosting against your forehead.

The air shifts.

Those impossibly blue eyes drink you in, framed by thick lashes that soften the sharp cut of his jaw. “Still dizzy?” he murmurs teasingly.

Inhaling shakily, your eyes flutter shut for just a second, searching for something steady, something solid. But there’s only him—his presence, his warmth, the scent of him—clean, crisp, intoxicating.

Yup. You’re fucked.

“…no,” you whisper. But it’s a lie.

Because it’s not the teleporting that’s making your head spin anymore.

Satoru hums, knowing.

“Since we’re to be wed…” his fingers resettle just below your breast, lips curling into a slow, deliberate smirk. “I think you deserve a sample, don’t you?”

Huh?

You should say something. Anything. Your lips part instinctively, but before you can form a thought, before hesitation can settle in—Satoru is leaning in and your brain is short circuiting.

His hand lifts, cupping your cheek as he tilts your chin just so, and with a tenderness, his lips brush against yours in a soft, lingering press.

It’s like a dream. Gojo Satoru—the man you’ve admired, so sweet, so charming, so free—kissing you? Is this real life?

When he pulls back, he studies your expression, a smug grin dragging up his lips.

“What? You want more?” his lips brush against yours, and you barely process it when he mutters, “…wanna ruin you…” kissing you again.

This time, his lips are moving—slow, languid, like he’s introducing himself to you in a way words never could, coaxing you into the unfamiliar rhythm. He doesn’t rush. He guides. Mapping out your hesitation, your breath, the way your body tenses before melting beneath him.

Is your heart going to beat out of your chest? It feels like it. Just as you ease into his movements, his tongue flicks against the seam of your lower lip—soft, teasing.

“C’mon…” he quietly demands, tongue tracing your lips again, “open up f’me…”

And God, you do. Because he feels too good not to.

“Atta girl…” he hums, tongue slipping past your lips with ease. And now, that slow, lazy exploration turns headier, more consuming, more demanding. Groaning quietly, he’s pulling you in, guiding you. Leading. Teaching.

Oh.

That heat in your tummy… it’s spreading down between your legs now. You’re simmering with an inexplainable heat, and you instinctively clutch his robes, whining involuntarily as he kisses you stupid.

He’s grinning smugly against your lips, your sound fueling him as he devours you more. As your lips crash, you feel him shift, his fingers tugging at your kimono—toying with the delicate knot of your obi.

Wait.

You freeze.

Oh god.

Are you about to lose your virginity to the man you are to marry—before your wedding night?

Noticing you tense, Satoru’s smirk gentles and his movements slow. His lips taper, trailing down your jaw with tender pecks.

“Heh… relax, sweetheart…” he purrs against your skin, caressing your body. “In case you’re wondering, ’m not taking that tonight.”

Your breath stutters, heat curling beneath your skin.

Are… you relieved? Fuck… do you want him to fuck you? He’s making your head spin, and with him, tradition feels unnecessary.

 “Oh… I-I just…” you swallow. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

He raises a brow, a slow smirk pulling up his lips. “Yeah? Then I can show you, baby.” His lips graze the curve of your throat, fingers still teasing at your obi. “But I need to hear it from you first.”

You blink up at him, heat pooling between your legs at the look in his eyes—dark, heavy-lidded, consuming.

“What do you want? Gonna let me play with what’s mine?”

Your heart stammers. Fuck, you should hesitate. This is entirely unbefitting of a proper lady. It’s against everything you were raised to be. But the moment his teeth graze your jaw, fuck it, you’re already nodding.

“…yes, please.”

Satoru hums. “Good girl.”

And then, with a deft tug, your kimono slips open as he pulls it apart—the cool air kissing your skin just before he does, lips trailing from your collarbone to the curve of your breast.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “So pretty… look at these tits…” His tongue flicks against your nipple, and you whine, “S-Satoru—ahhh…” shuddering as his mouth wraps around it, swirling his tongue as he sucks the peak.

Smirking, he releases your nipple with a wet pop. “Bet you’re not as prim and proper as you look…” he muses, lips dragging lower, nipping at the sensitive dip of your waist. “Bet there’s a filthy little thing hiding under all this tradition…”

His palms descend, smoothing over your thighs, coaxing them apart with ease, but you tense just a bit.

His gaze lifts, ice-blue and smoldering. “Nervous, sweetheart?” he teases, kneading at the soft flesh of your thighs, thumbs sweeping slow, lazy circles—soothing, patient. But there’s a tension in him, the way his breath deepens, the way his hands flex like he’s holding back.

Your lashes flutter. “I… I just… I dunno how to, I—”

“Shhh,” he coos, smirking, “relax f’me, yeah?”

You give him a little nod as your thighs part further beneath the coaxing of his hands, and fuck, fuck, the sight of you like this—open, pliant, so soft and untouched—has his cock aching.

His breath shudders, fingers dragging up your inner thigh. “Mmm… I can already tell—you’re gonna be a dream wrapped around my cock.” A choked whine escapes you, body shivering, and his smirk deepens. “Ohhh, you like that?” he chuckles, fingers slipping beneath the silk of your kimono, spreading it further open. “Like hearing how bad I wanna fuck you?”

And fuck, does he want to fuck you. The restraint it takes to not flip you over and rut into your cunt is damn near unbearable.

It’s been days since Satoru’s had someone in his bed—days of listening to those stiff-ass elders drone on about duty, responsibility, marriage. Fucking is his stress relief. His role—this position as clanhead, as the strongest. God, he acts like he doesn’t give a shit but it’s exhausting. So, he fucks who he wants, when he wants. And now? Now he’s got you beneath him, trembling and breathless, your kimono slipping from your shoulders like a perfectly wrapped gift waiting to be undone.

It’s almost enough to make him say fuck it and take you right now.

Almost.

But he’s not completely selfish—knows you’re untouched, knows he’d probably wreck you if he took you raw the way he wants to. And as much as he loves breaking pretty little things, he’s gotta prepare you. Prepare you for the worst. Because Satoru? He doesn’t make love, he fucks.

“Satoru… I… I’ve never—"

“I gotchu sweetheart,” he drawls, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your cotton panties. “Gonna take my time. Let’s see how filthy my pretty little wife can get f’me, hm?”

You whimper as his middle finger circles the entrance of your slick cunt, teasing, testing, before pressing in an inch, feeling a small taste of your tight heat wrapped around him.

“Mnnh…” your voice wavers as your fingers grip his robes. “S-Satoru.” He groans, dragging his fingers through your slick, spreading it, making sure you feel every stroke. “Shit, baby…” his voice dips, husky, teasing. “Already soaked, hm? Just from me kissing you? Heh… see.” A wicked grin curls against your neck and you’re whining as he parts your folds, circling against your wet heat. “Knew it. You’re a naughty girl. Feels good huh?”

You nod, head tipping back as your cunt drips on the futon, hips shifting toward him.

“I-I… haaa…” you look up at him with pleading eyes as the tip of his finger sinks inside your tiny hole, then retreating just as quickly, playing with you. He groans, “God I’m gonna fucking ruin you… lemme feel how tight this little pussy is f’me…” and then he pushes his finger in fully, sinking knuckle-deep in your entrance.

“Ahhh!” you gasp, body shuddering, face burying into his neck as your cunt clenches him greedily. “Ohhh, shit,” he groans through his teeth because fuck—your tiny pussy’s already swallowing his finger like you don’t wanna let go. Satoru’s cock is twitching painfully in his hakama, leaking, straining against the fabric. He can’t wait to split you open on his thick throbbing dick.

“There ya go, sweetheart,” he coos, lips brushing against your ear. “Nice and easy, baby.” He’s moving now, curling his finger against that tender spot, and you gasp “S-Satoru…” burying further into his neck as you soak his hand, clutching his kimono as you whine, “nngh… s’too much…”

“Aww… s’okay…” he’s pressing wet open-mouthed kisses along your throat, finger slowly fucking into you, “Shit… this is only one finger sweetheart. Poor thing. M’gonna have to stretch you real good, huh?” he pumps through every word. “And you’ll take all of me, wont’cha? Take me like a good girl?”

Your lashes flutter. It’s overwhelming, but god, you love it. Stretching your hot little cunt with his long finger, the way his pretty blue eyes watch you, the way his voice drips into your ears, coaxing you further under. “I-I… nnngh…” your needy pussy’s gushing all over his knuckles, “Satoruuu…” you whimper, squirming slightly, unsure what you’re asking for.

But he knows. Of course he fucking knows.

“Faster?” he croons, nipping at your earlobe, pumping you fast, and fuck, your eyes roll back. The sounds of your sopping slick mix with the hum of cicadas. “That’s it… m’gonna teach you. Show my perfect little slut of a wife how to take cock, how to be a good girl for her husband.”

He curls his finger further, sliding against your tight wet walls. “S-Satoru—ahhh…”

“Shhh, I got you,” he soothes, cock angry in his pants as he pumps you stupid. “Shit, you’re so wet… feel that?” his free hand splays over your stomach, feeling your tiny hole flutter around him. “Ah, fuck… you’re gonna feel so tight around my dick… can’t wait to fuckin’ pound this needy pussy.”

Your breath is stuttering as he’s stretching you faster, making your cunt drool all over him, pretty blue eyes watching you through fluttering white lashes.

“Gonna fuck you so good, baby…” he murmurs in your ear, voice deep, velvety. “Hope you’re ready, gonna milk my fuckin’ dick, be my little obedient, sexy toy for me to use whenever I want. Yeah?”

Your body moves on its own and you arch further into him, desperate for more of his ministrations.

“…satoru,” you pant, and his cock leaps in his pants the moment you ask, “m-more… please?”

“Shit…” he groans, slipping another finger into your sopping cunt. “Knew you’re not as innocent as you look. Gonna pump you so fucking full, paint your insides white with my hot, thick cum,” he pants, finger fucking you faster. “This want you wanted needy girl?”

“Mhmm…” you nod, eyes squeezed shut, legs squeezing around him, a whimper spilling for your lips. “Ohh, fuck yes…” he growls, licking into your mouth.

Fuck, Satoru’s cock is throbbing so much is hurts now.

The thought of fucking you raw? Of splitting you open on his cock, ruining that untouched little cunt, making you stretch around him, crying, gasping, begging? Fuck—he could cum in his pants just thinking about it.

Because that is something he doesn’t do with other women. He’s always careful. Always keeps things clean, simple. Never finishes inside—ensuring there’s something between him and whatever meaningless distraction is spread out beneath him. Because at the end of the day, Gojo Satoru has a lot of meaningless distractions, and none of them are worth that kind of indulgence.

But you? Breeding you? Filling your tiny little hole, stuffing you full, making you drip with his cum until you’re leaking, messy, begging for more? Fuck, that’s more than a perk—that’s a goddamn plus.

A plus that, at least in marrying you, he’ll have someone to fuck whenever he wants. Satoru always gets what he wants. And he loves to fuck.

That’s all this is. That’s all you’ll be. A perfect little wife, ready to spread your legs and take him like you were made for it. Why? Because Satoru hates being tied down. But if the elders want an heir?

Fine. He’ll fucking give ‘em that.

“O-Oh… ohmygod…” you’re whimpering now, nails digging into his shoulders as he’s scissoring your dripping pussy, stretching you wider. “Ahhh!” The moment his thumb finds your clit, your body jolts, and he chuckles. “Mmm… there it is…” he’s rubbing slow circles against your swollen bud, pumping your cunt as your whimper and writhe. “That’s what I wanna see… let it take you… let it break you, baby.”

He pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you—eyes hooded, lips parted, white hair falling over his gaze. Fuck, he looks ruined just watching you come apart. You’re gasping, chest rising and falling, and he smirks. “S’too much,” you whine, voice trembling, “too much, Satoru… I… ahhh!”

Leaning in, his lips brush against yours. “C’mon sweet thing,” he rasps, “Cum f’me. Lemme see how pretty you look when you fall apart…”

And fuck, you do.

Your pussy clenches, tightening around his fingers as the coil in your stomach snaps, sending pleasure crashing through you.

A choked cry slips from your lips as your body shudders violently, legs squeezing around his wrist, cunt gushing down his knuckles. He groans, feeling every pulse of your release, the hot slick dripping down his hand as he fucks you through the aftershocks.

“Oh, fuck,” he grits out, watching you unravel beneath him. His lips curl, dark amusement flashing in his eyes. “That’s it, baby… look at you, makin’ such a mess on my fingers.” His thrusts slow, easing you down from your high, his free hand stroking up your trembling thigh as you’re panting, gripping the sleeve of his kimono as you look up at him with dewy eyes.

“Mmm… such a good girl f’me,” he murmurs.

Your lashes flutter, hazy and weak, as he slowly withdraws his fingers from your spent, fluttering hole. You whimper, body jerking slightly at the sensitivity, and a thin, glistening string of arousal connects his fingers to your soaked entrance before it snaps, slick dripping down your thighs.

Satoru hums. “Well, well…” he’s lifting his hand to the lantern light, watching you glisten on his fingers. “You really did make such a mess, sweetheart…”

Your dazed gaze meets his just as his tongue slips between his fingers, sucking them clean. “Mmm…” he groans, lashes fluttering, eyes rolling back before pulling them out with a wet pop. “Can’t wait to devour your cunt properly… bury my face between those pretty thighs n’ make you cum on my tongue while I feed you my dick…”

You’re fucking speechless, barely processing his filthy words before he’s shifting, his free hand dipping beneath the folds of his hakama. Blinking, dazed, you look down and—

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

He’s pulling himself free, that thick flushed cock springing up—flushed, red, and glistening with precum. It throbs, slapping against his abs, needy and aching. You look at Satoru’s blue eyes and they’re watching you, amusement tugging at his lips.

Gripping the base, he gives it a slow stroke. “Mhn… see what you do to me?” he smears his arousal lazily over the swollen head, exhaling. “Ahhh… look how fuckin’ hard I am just from playing with your pretty cunt…”

Swallowing, your thighs press together, heat blooming in your tummy. Each pump of his cock is hypnotic, deliberate—like he has all the time in the world.

You can’t take your eyes off it.

Fuck

His fingers were already enough to drive you insane, but that? How—how the hell are you supposed to fit that inside your pussy?

Satoru catches the way you bite your lip, the flicker of uncertainty in your gaze.

He smirks, tilting his head. “C’mere,” and he’s reaching for your hand, bringing it toward him. “Wanna play with it?”

Your fingers twitch. “But, Satoru—”

“Shhh,” his thumb brushes soothing circles across your wrist. “Told you, ‘m gonna teach you.” Lifting your hand, he presses a chaste kiss to your palm—soft, sweet. “You’re gonna be my wife, baby… that means learning how to handle my cock, too.”

“Oh…” your lashers flutter, a blush creeping up your cheeks. “Okay.”

For a fleeting second, the moment feels… almost tender.

But it shatters as he’s spitting directly into your palm—hot, slick, filthy.

“Gotta get it niiiice and wet…” he mutters, guiding your drenched hand to his throbbing dick, smearing the sticky substance around his shaft. “Grip it like this… kay?”

“Okay…” your murmur, thumb brushing against a thick vein. And god, it’s hot—hotter than you expect—twitching in your grip, heavy and pulsing beneath your tiny fingers.

“Mm, good girl,” he exhales, watching you through lidded eyes. “Start slow, yeah? Let me feel you.” He moves your hand beneath his, setting a pace, slow and teasing. A deep groan rumbles through his chest, lashes fluttering as his head tips back. “Fuuuuck… yeah… that’s it, jus’ like that, baby…”

Biting your lip, you look up at his filthy expression. “Like…this?” you experiment, squeezing a little harder, gripping his dick with more purpose. His cock twitches violently and his lips part. “Fuuuuck…” he grunts, grip tightening on your wrist, “y-yeah… that’s it—shit—keep going, just like that.”

God, the way he looks right now has you dizzy—lidded eyes, jaw slack, breath coming short and heavy. He’s falling apart from your touch alone—like there’s a power to it. That realization makes you bolder, your strokes growing more confident.

And fuck, he seems to like that.

“There ya go, sweetheart,” his cock’s jerking in your grip as he pulls back completely, pretty blue eyes flicking form your hand to your face, smirk turning pure filth. “God, look at you… pretty little wife, strokin’ my cock so fuckin’ well. Maybe I oughta let you do this every night, huh? Put those soft little hands to good use.”

The slick, obscene sounds of your hand working over his cock fills the space as he leans back, shamelessly reveling in it, hips twitching into your grasp.

“Nnngh… keep strokin’ me just like that…” his lips hover a breath away from yours, panting, desperate. You squeeze a little harder, rolling your wrist, and his brows furrow, a sharp hiss escaping him. “Shit—” his head lolls back, voice wrecked, “fuck, you’re such a quick learner… bet you’d let me fuck that tight little throat next, wouldn’t you?”

You cunt is throbbing at his words, slick pooling in your panties. God, how are you supposed to answer him? He’s filthy. But you love it. Your thighs squeeze together, and Satoru sees the way you shift—his grin stretching, wicked.

“Betcha like strokin’ me.” His voice is rough, thick with need, fingers threading into your hair. “Betcha like feelin’ my cock throb in your hand, huh?”

Biting your lip, you squeeze his dick harder. “Y-Yeah…” your cheeks burn at your own filthy admission, and his smirk is vicious, pure sin. “Knew it. Fuckin’ knew it.” He groans, cock twitching in your palm as his flushed tip drools all over your tiny hands. “Naughty little thing… keep that up, n’ m’gonna cum all over these pretty fingers…”

You swipe your thumb over the tip, rolling the head as you murmur “what if… I want that?” and as the words slip out, Satoru’s eyes snap to yours, blown wide, something feral in those cerulean depths.

“Oh?” His grip in your hair tightens, a sharp, desperate inhale through clenched teeth. “Say that again.”

You breathe slowly, smearing his drooling dick, and Satoru’s cock leaks more, jerking violently the moment you mutter, “I… I wanna see you cum.”

With a primal growl, he snaps—lunging forward, lips crashing against yours, messy, consuming. Breathless, desperate, your strokes turn frenzied as he’s groaning into your mouth, his hand groping your tit, his cock jolting in your palm, pulsing vigorously.

“Fuck,” he pants, forehead pressing against yours, his breath ragged, needy. “Faster—m’fuckin’ close—fuck, baby, don’t stop—”

You obey, jerking him quicker, harder, your palm slick and messy with his slick. The lewd, obscene sounds spilling from his lips are shameless, his hips jerking up, chasing the friction.

It’s invigorating, and so—fuck it.

Before you can second-guess yourself, you lean forward, part your lips—and spit. A long, slick stream dripping down, coating his thick cock, gliding over your fingers as you pump him faster.

Satoru chokes on a breath.

“Shit. Shit. Fuuuuuuck,” he groans, head tipping back, throat bared, veins straining. “Goddamn…” his voice cracks, laughter breaking through. “Look at that. Gonna turn you into the perfect little slut f’me, aren’t I?”

Your hand is a blur now—stroking, twisting, rolling over the ridge of his cock, milking him as he gasps, shuddering, hands roaming over your tits, groping, squeezing.

“G-Gonna cum all over you,” he groans, voice unraveling, grip tightening as his thumb flicks your nipple. “Wanna see it? Fuck—my cum dripping down your hand—” A ragged whine catches in his throat. “Or maybe—m-maybe your tits? Haaa… s-shit… yeah.”

Suddenly, his hand shoves you down, pinning you against the futon as he straddles you, knees pressing against your sides. Your eyes widen as his cock hovers above you, dripping, leaking, his grip tight around the base as he strokes himself furiously.

“Fuck… fuck… fuck!” The wet faps of his fist grow louder, his panting wrecked, desperate. “Gonna fuckin’—haaaa—s-shit, take my cum!”

And then, he’s spurting his thick gooey seed all over you, spilling rope after rope of that sticky white essence, shooting it from the ridge of his pulsing dick as it erupts is messy arcs. It's warm and wet, his body lingering above you, his breath coming in heavy, uneven pants as he wrings every last drop.

Groaning, his head lolls, lazily pumping the last few spurts, blue eyes dropping to the mess he’s made of you—cum dripping down your tits, pooling in the dip of your stomach.

“Fuck…” he exhales, thumb grazing your bottom lip before tilting your chin up. “Just look at you. Drenched in me.”

You blink, dazed, body still humming, skin sticky and dewy with sweat and cum. Satoru watches you for a moment, then huffs a lazy chuckle, shifting off you. You barely register the way he reaches for something beside the futon, only catching the warm press of a damp cloth against your skin a second later.

Lying there, breathless, he carelessly wipes his release off you. He’s not gentle, not exactly, but he’s careful—moving with the ease of someone who’s done this plenty of times before. When he’s done, he tosses the cloth aside, stretches his arms over his head, and flops onto his back with a satisfied sigh.

There’s a beat of silence as you both exhale. The weight of what the fuck just happened, settling in your chest. Then, his smirk returns as he tilts his head at you.

“Welp,” he sits up, rolling a shoulder, cracking his neck, as if already moving past the moment. “S’pose we oughta head back, huh?”

Your stomach knots. “Oh… um. B-Back?” Because how the fuck are you supposed to sit in front of the elders, in front of your mother, after this? After he’s just—after this?

Satoru snorts, already adjusting himself, tucking his cock back into his hakama like none of this just happened. “Yeah.” He grins, fixing the folds of his robes. “I got what I wanted. You had your fun, yeah?”

O-Oh? Your breath stutters. You swallow.

He smirks, glancing over at you, a few stray drops of his cum still drying on your skin. “Besides… can’t have ‘em thinking I already knocked you up before the wedding.”

The implication is clear. The possessiveness is clear. But the affection? That’s missing. It’s like… he’s already moved on, like this was nothing more than a way to pass the time.

Gojo Satoru doesn’t love you.

He owns you.

And as he extends his hand to you, waiting for you to take it so he can pull you up, there’s… no warmth in his touch.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he coos, blue eyes gleaming—calm, unreadable, detached. “Time to go home.”

Home.

But, it’s not a home—it’s a throne. And not yours to claim, only yours to be kept in.

a/n. hiiii welcome to the debut of this fic! i had to set a lot up here before we dive into the angst and the smutfest that's to come. ngl, this is a bit out of my comfort zone bc as a demisexual i crave emotional connection with sex. like, i'm really gonna want satoru to hold me after he fucks me stupid 🥲 but ALAS. this fic is not that (at least... not yet. give satoru some time, soon he's gonna be whipped for readers coochie, hehe 🤭) anyways, tysm for reading. would love to hear your thoughts 🫶🏻 like i said, this is going to be multiple parts. no clue how many just yet tho!

taglist pt 1:

@forest-nymph420 @linabugaboo @enhasrii @indiewritesxoxo @yamagucji

@aerareads @devils-blackrose @starpachinko @sadmonke @sylussss7

@slutoru1207 @satoruxsc @sukunasunflower @reihimbo @madamechrissy

@sleepykittyenergy @artist1936 @eggrollforyou @nishloves @serenxtii

@lastsubstance @sarapherna1ia @7thsthings @merrydoe @earliergrave

@106-94 @propan-3-ol @oromanticism @chxllix @nonamebbsblog

@honeybunnnnie @beereadzzz @moonchhu @bunheadusa @atschii

@cherriee-ee @kiyoko182 @itsinherited @fairygardenprincesss @7haze

@hedgefundmeg @adreamingpendulum @etsuniiru @velvetyshu @genshingeeksworld

@waterfallu @haruhatake @schooki @magnificientscarlett @strychnynegirl

[sundives]

My kink is karma ✶ pjs.

If karma's real, hope it's your turn.

Summary: You've wished nothing but bad things to your ex-best friend after she ruined your life by stealing your boyfriend and having your friend group take her side. And it looks like the gods have listened to your prayers when you were approached by Park Jongseong — your ex-best friend's first love.

You believed that bad karma will eventually get her but when Jay was persistent on dating you, you couldn’t help but to plot a petty revenge on your ex-best friend and the worst thing that you can do? Date (and maybe fuck) the guy that she longs for.

✰ Song inspiration: My kink is karma - Chappell Roan, Lacy - Olivia Rodrigo, The grudge - Olivia Rodrigo

✰ Word Count: 21.7k

✰ Tags: Revenge, strangers to lovers, man yearning and slow-burn pining!!! Fluff, a bit of angst, smut, college settings, reader is petty but we all are! reader can also be confusing but let her be, she also smokes for like one scene, Jay is genuine (and a down bad loser), he’s also in a band. Yunjin and Jake as your roommates (and they’re so parents-coded for reader)! Mentions of Enhypen members! <3 Yeonjun as your ex-boyfriend lmao. Oc as your ex-best friend (and so are other minor characters.)

✰ CW: Smut! Plot with little porn, oral (f receiving) cowgirl, a bit submissive Jay and that’s sexy haha, unprotected sex (pls don’t do it) petnames (baby, pretty girl) short aftercare because reader cried after sex. Idk I might have missed other stuff.

✰ Asul's Note: I know that my song inspirations are about sapphic relationships but this plot just went into my mind and i was just,,, you know what, i want to write that. So this is a huge brain rot for me, and just word vomits all pieced together. (Inspired by real life events tbh) Also it’s my first time writing smut so don’t judge. I know it’s shitty too. Other than that, just think of their university as a prestigious university that requires even college students to wear uniforms.

This is my first Enhypen fanfic, hope you guys like it! <3

-

The night club was full by the time the clock struck 1 despite being a Thursday night. Group of friends mostly filled the available tables and couch of the knit-tight club. The speaker’s blasting throughout the four corners with the dj playing some edm music.

It was loud, sweaty, and hot. People your age were dancing and singing along some 2010s pop song as their sweaty bodies hyped the dance floor — completely contrasting you. 

You were wearing a black denim pants and a halter top, sitting legs-crossed on the high stool by the bartender’s counter. You've been sitting there since 11 in the evening and yet, you’re still halfway on your bottle of beer. 

Clubs aren’t always your go-to place, but you felt the urge to celebrate small wins for things that happened today. A small smirk forming on your face as you recall the afternoon scene. 

Your ex-best friend, Yoomi lost her scholarship. What a great way to start your senior year in college. You think. On the first day of class, Yoomi let the tears fall out of her eyes as your other ‘friends’ gathered around to comfort her. Yoomi was sobbing hard as she bore the news on why she was crying. 

She was so loud. It was clear that she wanted to gain sympathy from your other classmates. She lost her scholarship because her gpa last academic year didn’t make it to the cutout. That is because of that one professor who gives low grades. You got a low grade from that professor too but you didn’t mind because it was kinda decent but for Yoomi? It’s the end of her world. 

Yoomi was crying her heart out, sharing that she tried telling the professor that it’ll ruin her goal of achieving summa cum laude this graduation but failed to appease his empathy. You couldn’t help but to roll your eyes because of her words. Your roommate, Yunjin noticed it and could only laugh lightly because you didn’t hide the disgusted look on your face. 

“She deserves it,” you commented while you and Yunjin were on your way back to your dorm. 

“I get you,” Yunjin sympathized. “I really don’t get why everyone likes her. She thinks she’s smart and quirky but the truth is, she’s cringey and pathetic.”

“People are stupid, and are on the same level as Yoomi,” you let out a sigh, trying to erase Yoomi out of your head. 

You and Yoomi instantly clicked on the first day of your freshman year. Both coming from a different town, you two found solace with each other. You two shared the same likes and dislikes, fangirled over anime and would send edit videos on tiktok.

Yoomi was talkative and friendly. Soon, your duo became a friend group who studied together and ranted over crazy tasks and strict professors. Your friend group made you adjust well during freshman year and you were happy that you found a safe space while being away from your family. 

College also became a place for you to try dating, and maybe, find a decent guy that you’ll commit a serious relationship with. During your freshman year, you matched with Yeonjun on a dating app and after a few dates, you two became official. 

You and Yeonjun dated throughout college. It was stable and healthy, and everyone envied your relationship. Yeonjun’s close with your friends and so are you with his friends. For Yoomi, she didn’t lose a friend even though you had a boyfriend. Hell, you were so happy that the two of them are close and bear no awkward signs. 

But that’s where you should’ve seen the signs. Yoomi has always been touchy with Yeonjun, but that’s just how she was with your other male friends. That’s why you didn’t want to put malice on Yoomi — which was your biggest mistake. 

Then came junior year. In a glimpse, Yeonjun became cold to you. Telling you that he’s busy and he couldn’t meet you. You trusted him that he’s just busy, because so were you. Junior year was hectic so you never prioritise your relationship. You were confident with your relationship with him.

So it hit you like a truck when you went to Yeonjun’s dorm to surprise him — only to see Yoomi with him. That’s when it sinked in to you all the times that both of them turn down your study dates, they’re seeing each other behind your back. 

You caught them in the act. Yoomi was on top of Yeonjun, half-naked at your sight. You didn’t miss the way Yoomi smirked, which made you leave the scene. Yeonjun attempted to go after you but you’ve made up your mind. That night, you broke up with Yeonjun and completely cut Yoomi off. 

Your group of friends heard about it, but you didn’t feel a single comfort from them. You were told that “whatever fight you and Yoomi had, they don’t want to pick a side.” and it’s obvious that they’re on Yoomi’s side.

As the days continued, you felt left out by your friend group while Yoomi became center of the attention, that is why the remaining months of your junior year, you only had your roommates by your side 

Yoomi didn’t even wait for a month to hard-launched her relationship with Yeonjun. You found it pathetic of her but you didn’t care anymore. All the tears you’ve cried turned into a loathing feeling for Yoomi, and there’s not a single day that you wish for her downfall.  

It seems like karma has been hearing your prayers. Yoomi’s scholarship is one of the reasons why she can study in a prestigious university like Decelis University, and losing it just in time for senior year can be painful. But you’re overjoyed by the news, wishing that it’ll get worse like her being unable to finish college. You couldn’t help but to lightly chuckle as you took another sip from your beer, chugging it down until its last drop. 

“Hey,” your thoughts trailed off when you picked-up a masculine voice. You turned to your right to see a guy around your age standing beside you. He’s leaning against the counter with a bottle of beer in his hand. He’s hot with his slicked-back hair, wearing a cotton polo shirt tucked-in snuggly in his cotton pants — contrasting all the streetwear-dressed guys in the club. 

“Hi,” you offered a smile, mentally preparing yourself to reject him. You didn’t go to the club to be picked-up by a stranger after all. 

“You’re alone?” he asked and you only laughed. Of course. That's the first thing a guy would ask. 

“Do you see me talking to someone?” you raised an eyebrow, and that made him chuckle. 

“Well, you wouldn’t mind me accompanying you?” he offered, stretching his hand. “I’m Jay.” 

You stopped your tracks, blinking to sink in his name. Jay. That name sounds so familiar but you couldn’t point a finger about it. 

“Jay,” you breathe. “You go to Decelis University?”

He seems to be surprised by your question. “Yeah, you probably heard of Arcanum? I’m their electric guitarist.”

Fuck. You cursed internally, eyes turning wide. Park Jongseong. Jay. Studies Marketing and Advertising. Electric guitarist of Decelis University’s university band, Arcanum. 

Jay. Your ex-best friend Yoomi’s first love. They go to the same school back in her hometown. Her long-time crush who she followed to Decelis University just to have a chance with him. The guy who’s band gig she attends wherever it is. The guy who made Yoomi hyperventilate when Jay glanced at her for a split second.

And maybe the reason why you didn’t suspect Yoomi to take a liking to Yeonjun is because her goal has always been Jay. 

Jay, who seems to be Yoomi’s universe, is standing in front of you, and casually flirting with you — something that Yoomi never had the chance to do. 

It was as if karma really is doing god’s work. All of Yoomi’s desperate attempts to be noticed by Jay didn’t stand a chance the moment Jay approached you first. The bulb inside your brain suddenly lightens up and suddenly, a plan is circulating in your mind.

“So you’re the electric guitarist,” you smiled. “I admit, your solo performance during the year-end concert was hot.” 

“You think I’m hot?” he asked amusingly.

“Don’t flatter yourself Jay,” you laughed. “You’ll be much hotter if you buy me another bottle of beer though.” 

“If that’s the only thing that can continue this conversation, I’ll be happy to.”

Gotcha. You watched as Jay called out the bartender to order another bottle of beer for you. How you managed to do it so easy was probably karma’s doing and you’re thanking the heavens for siding on you. 

As the night deepens, you and Jay shared an endless conversation about you two. Jumping from one topic to another, and you didn’t miss the subtle flirty remarks he would throw at any chance he could. It didn’t even strike you that the longer your talks were, the less people had become inside the club. 

“It’s almost four,” Jay said. “I think they’re just waiting for us to leave.”

You scanned the whole club and there’s only a few people around. You only had three bottles of beer that night and it was enough for you. You don’t even feel a hint of tipsiness in your system, that’s why you glanced at Jay and smiled,

“I think that’s our cue then,” you said, grabbing your purse and fishing out your wallet when Jay had already handed over his card. 

“So, am I hotter now that I bought you a bottle of beer?” he jokes. 

“You sound like you want some affirmations from me,” you smirked. 

“I’ll be happy to hear affirmations from a pretty girl like you.”

That made you chuckle. “Sure Jay, thanks for the drinks.” you jumped out from the high stool when Jay tapped your shoulder. 

“I’m not really the type to do this but,” Jay started, and you can sense a hint of hesitation in his tone. “But do you wanna go to my place?”

You stared at him for a few seconds. “Sorry, I’m not that type of girl.”

“It’s okay, and I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable,” he quickly said, and you couldn’t believe what you just heard. Most guys will be persistent to take a girl home, but Jay looks away from you embarrassed. 

“I didn’t, don’t worry,” you gave him a smile. You lean towards him, tiptoe-ing to land a kiss on his cheeks. 

“Maybe take me on a date or two, then I can go to your place,” you whispered to his left ear. 

You gave him a wave before you turned around and started walking away when you heard Jay call out your name again.

“Then, when can I see you again!?” he asked. 

You turned around and only smiled at him, “you go to Decelis right? If we bumped into each other, then maybe that’s fate’s way of telling me to go on a date with you.”

You didn’t even let him say another word. You probably have left him speechless as you walked out of the club. The cold air welcomed you as you walked your way towards your car. 

As you sat in the driver’s seat, that’s when you let out a loud laugh that you’ve been holding back throughout the night. Slapping your steering wheel harshly as you laugh until the air in your lungs weakens you.

Catching your breath, you leaned against your seat as you sinked in your mind that you spent the night flirting with Jay — and if you were being petty, you would’ve accepted his invitation. 

Sure it was inviting but short. If you would’ve slept with Jay, that’s just it. You’re just the girl that banged her ex-best friend’s long-time crush and for you, it’s a bit shallow to get back to Yoomi. You wanted her to suffer. To be hurt slowly just like what she did to you. That’s why you’re curating a perfect revenge plan — get back to her by dating the guy that she could never have. 

And Park Jongseong? Well, he’s just the perfect tool for your revenge. But first, you just have to make sure that your plan is actually a sign from the gods themselves. And the only way to find out is if you ever encounter Jay again. 

-

They say that a university is big if you’re looking for someone, and small if you’re avoiding someone. 

If they ask you which one is you, neither of them. You couldn’t avoid Yoomi since she’s your classmate and you curse Decelis’ blocked section policy for letting you see her and your friend group everyday.

You’re not looking for someone too. And if that someone is named Park Jongseong, then yes, you’re definitely not looking for someone. It’s been two weeks since your encounter with Jay and you’ve given up easily. Now, you’re just praying for karma to do all the work.

It was past five in the afternoon. Your last class just ended and your roommates are waiting for you at a Pho stall outside the university for dinner. 

You walked your way towards the university’s nearest exit. The sky slowly turns into shades of purple and deep orange, the sun is about to set and you can feel the cool breeze. You hum lightly as you listen to your music on the way. 

That’s when you felt a light tap on your shoulder, startling you as you turned around and behold —

“Found you,” he teased.

It was obvious in your eyes that you were surprised to see him. Removing your earphones while processing your thoughts. 

“I guessed you’re too stunned to see me,” Jay teases again, making you snap out of your daze.

You chuckled nervously, “what? You just scared me, that’s all.” 

“Really? Well now that I finally found you, how about we talk about your promise?”

“You really searched for me, didn’t you?” you asked instead.

Jay tilts his head amusingly. “Not really, let’s just say fate is doing its work.”

Funny. You thought. It’s the same sign that you’re looking to continue your plan. You weren’t able to say another thing as Jay stood there waiting for your answer. 

And suddenly, that scene from Yeonjun’s dorm flashed in your mind. It has always been engraved in your mind how close they were. Their intimate position as Yeonjun looked at you with shock while Yoomi was glad that you caught both of them. 

Then you remember the times you accompanied Yoomi to Jay’s gig. How she would shout his name so loud that you looked away embarrassed. How she crashed out when Jay reposted her instagram story of his photo taken by her. You remembered how deep Yoomi’s love for Jay — ever since high school, Jay has always been the guy that she wanted to marry. 

You told yourself that if you ever crossed paths with Jay again, it’ll be the sign to get back to Yoomi. That this is karma’s way to tell you that you should do it instead of waiting for them. Now, Jay found you and is eager to get that date, what’s holding you back now?

It’s the last year of your college. Why not end it with pettiness and hatred? You don’t want to graduate college with pain and trauma, and surely, you don’t want to be the bigger person who’ll forgive and forget — no, you were never always the bigger person. Not when there’s nothing to forgive and forget because both Yeonjun and Yoomi weren’t sorry for their actions. 

“Like, right now?” You asked Jay. 

Jay merely shrugs, “I mean if you want to, but if you want a splendid, prepared date, we can also have that one.” 

You clicked your tongue. Pondering if this is worth ditching Yunjin and Jake. 

And it didn’t take you a minute to decide. You fished out your phone and started typing a message to your roommates. 

3rd floor besties <3

Yn: Can’t go. Jay asked me to have dinner with him. I’ll spare the details later. 

5:23 pm

Yunjin: JAY ???? THE GUY THAT Yoomi LIKES ???

5:24 pm

Jake: Guessed he found you lmao. He’s been yapping about you since that night at the club. 

5:24 pm

Yunjin: GO FOR IT GURLIE WE LOVE TO SEE IT. 

5:24 pm

You chose to not reply to your roommates and instead, placed your phone in your jeans pocket. 

“So, where should we spontaneously go for a dinner date?” You asked. 

“You sure, you don’t mind ditching your friends?” he throws back the question. 

You only shrugged, “they’ll be fine. So, where are we going?” 

“You take the pick, I’m okay with anything.”

You and Jay stumbled upon a small chinese eatery just five minutes away from the university gate. It’s a bit crowded and maybe, your pho cravings can be replaced with xiao long bao. 

As soon as the server left the table, that’s when an awkward atmosphere emitted between the two of you. You didn’t know what to say compared that night wherein alcohol took a huge part in your courage. 

“So, how have you been?” Jay started, making you glance at him.

You let out a soft chuckle. “I’m doing okay actually, how about you? You seem like you were glad to see me.” 

“I’m going to be honest but I actually am glad to see you.”

For Jay, the university was big yet small as he looked for you. 

He never felt so pathetic in his life before. One of his mistakes was not asking for your socials and damn you, for telling him that it’ll be fate for you two to meet again. He’s not even a spiritual person and whatever you said made him think if you’re interested in him or not. 

A week or two felt like a hopeless case, it wasn’t until his idiotic friend, Jake Sim only recently told him that you’re his roommate — after weeks of him venting his frustration.

“You’re down bad,” Jake jokingly said. 

“Shut up and just tell me about her college program,” Jay hastily said. 

“Just don’t do anything stupid,” Jake said in a serious tone. “Her last relationship was fucked-up, her ex was a fucking asshole that cheated on her.” 

Jay didn’t question Jake’s protective tone. He only nods as he assures his friend that he doesn’t have any bad intentions towards you. He understands why it took Jake a while for him to say that you’re his roommates. 

That’s when he got to know you. You’re a senior like him. You study diplomatics which is on the other side of the university — far from his building. While it’s stupid for him to stand outside your department building looking like a stalker, Jay took the courage to pass by the building in hopes of bumping into you. 

And it seems like favor is on him because you two met midway that what he was supposed to plan. 

“Jake told you huh?” you laughed after hearing Jay’s story. 

“Yeah, he also told me some stuff,” Jay replied, making you stop. You glanced at him, heart beating fast. 

“About your ex, you know, he’s an asshole who doesn't deserve you.”

You only smile at him. “It’s kinda traumatic for me, what happened and — Jay, I just want to tell you that I’m not that ready to enter a serious relationship.”

“You can back out now before I use you in my plan,” was what you actually meant. 

“And I am not rushing you,” Jay answered. “Let’s just keep it casual okay? Get to know each other, and go on a few dates.”

You let out a nervous laugh, “you’re eager huh?”

“I just don’t want to lose you again,” Jay truthfully said. So casual and simply that he didn’t know it shot an arrow to your heart.

That was your sign.

“I think he likes me,” you started. After the dinner, Jay walked you to your dorm where Jake and Yunjin were waiting. You can see through the floor balcony that the two of them were waiting for you like a parent whose daughter went past her curfew.

“Likes you? Dude, he’s down bad!” Jake pointed out. “I swear, every time I was with him, he’s all frustrated because he couldn’t find you.” 

“And it took you two weeks to tell him that you’re y/n’s roommate?” Yunjin raised an eyebrow.

“I thought it’ll pass, but two weeks and he still keeps on looking for y/n had me thinking that he’s so desperate,” Jake shrugs. 

You let out a frustrated groan, getting your roommate’s attention. 

“You guys be honest, am I petty if I want to date Jay just to get back to Yoomi?” you asked. 

The two of them only stared at you, making you let out a sigh again. 

“It’s stupid right? I shouldn’t do it —”

“No, no, if it gives you the satisfaction of getting back to Yoomi, then why not?” Yunjin answered. 

“Just make sure you don’t hurt Jay, he seems genuine about you,” Jake added. 

You only stared at them for a good minute. “This is a bad idea right?”

Both your roommates looked at each other. Yunjin signaled Jake who only groaned as he glanced back at you. He fixes his glasses like he’s sort of a scientist while he leans against the railings of the balcony. 

“Y/n, I’m telling you this as Jay’s friend. If you plan on using Jay just to get back to Yoomi, then don’t do it. Don’t involve innocent people around here — regardless how much Yoomi hurt you,” Jake explained. 

“Yeah, who knows, maybe it’ll go back to you too,” Yunjin added. 

You only nod at their words. “But Jay really likes me — but I’m not ready for a relationship. The only reason why I said yes was because I was really planning on getting back to Yoomi.”

The three of you fell into an awkward silence. Silently pondering your words, both your roommates knew how much it hurted you, and while they’re in to tolerate your pettiness, an innocent person is on the line. 

Then, Yunjin’s face lights up, snapping her fingers to get your attention. 

“Just think of it this way y/n, Jay likes you and not Yoomi. Yoomi has been obsessing with Jay for god knows how long, and you got him wrapped around your finger that easily. Just date him casually! Just show to Yoomi that you can have Jay and she can’t — and she’s dating that trash of your ex too.” Yunjin explained. 

“Yunjin’s right, and Jay told you that he’s not rushing you right? You’re not pressured to date him exclusively too. Get to know him too, who knows maybe you two end up friends instead,” Jake added. 

“Wait, that answers my worry! I can also reject Jay since he knew from the start that I am not ready for a committed relationship,” you pointed out. 

“Jay’s a nice guy y/n, he’ll understand if you reject him too,” Jake stated. 

You let out a loud sigh of relief. The plan was simple: date Jay and show Yoomi that. You didn’t need some splendid action to be the end of your revenge. It didn’t matter to you its aftermath. All you can think about is stretching it long enough to make it believable.

And probably long enough for Yoomi to confront you and shove in her face that Jay’s interested in you — not her. That’ll destroy her. 

“Just don’t overthink about it,” Yunjin stated. “I know how you tend to mix your decisions with your emotions. Always think rationally okay? Go with the flow and everything.”

You only looked at her with an assuring smile, “don’t worry, no feelings involved in this one.” 

-

You always wonder why luck is always on Yoomi’s side. 

Of course, she managed to maintain her scholarship despite not maintaining her gpa. A bit unfair but you heard that she pulled a few strings to your college dean just so she can still have her scholarship until graduation. 

Now, she’s all over her instagram story having a “story time” that’s about 20+ slides and you seriously wonder if there are people who are willing to watch those — maybe those who are interested in her life just to talk shit about her.

“Look at this,” Yunjin laughed, showing you a screenshot of Yoomi’s ig story. In the post, she shared how Yeonjun comforted her by buying her flowers from a nearby flower shop and took her to her favorite coffee shop so that the two of them could have a study date.

She shared that being able to maintain her scholarship was a gift and now, she’ll work hard to maintain her gpa. (and in case her followers don’t know, she’s running for summa cum laude.)

“Ugh, does she ever think that no one gives a fuck about her life story?” Yoomi’s an open book for everyone. She shares the most insane tmi’s on her social media which dilutes her personality. But what bothers you is that no one never dared to call her out and give her a reality check. Everyone in your department knows that you dated Yeonjun before she did, but no one…not even one, bat an eye on the situation. 

“I feel like only a few people do, but I do like scouring through her instagram story just to laugh at it,” Yunjin snickered. 

“You’re so mean,” you mocked. “How can you do that to sweet little Yoomi?”

“Shut up, you literally loathe her,” the two of you bursted into laughter as you two decided that it’s time to return to your class after staying in a cafe during lunch time. 

“By the way, when are you going to meet Jay again?” Yunjin asked. 

“This Saturday,” you answered simply. During your spontaneous date, you and Jay exchanged socials and numbers. He immediately sent you a text after he reached his place, and your conversation continued ever since. 

“What’s the plan?” Yunjin asked.

“I don’t have any,” you shrugged. “I’ll just think that we’re casually dating, and let Yoomi discover it herself.” 

“So, no soft-launches or instagram stories?”

“None for me. It’ll be obvious if I post Jay, but if Jay posts me?” you let out a small laugh. “And Yoomi sees it? Oh that’ll crash her.” 

Yunjin gasps, “god you’re so genius for that! You’re really taking this seriously aren’t you?”

And before you could answer, your eyes caught a glimpse of Yoomi and Yeonjun walking together towards the entrance of the department building. You stop as you observe how Yoomi’s talking non stop as she clings around Yeonjun’s arms.

Instead of answering Yunjin, you only gave her a glance before shifting your gaze back to the couple. You can hear Yunjin imitating a gagging sound which only makes you chuckle.

“I hope they get caught by our discipline officer,” Yunjin muttered with disgust. 

“I just hope they break up in the ugliest way possible,” you mumbled. 

-

When Saturday arrived, you managed to slip out of your bed at 10 in the morning. Groaning as you enter the kitchen where Jake is. 

“Woah, you don’t seem prepared for your date,” Jake teases. 

“Why did I agree to meet him during lunch time,” you complained, pouring yourself a glass of water. 

“It’s Jay that we’re talking about, who knows what he got under sleeves,” your roommate laughed. “Goodluck on your date, just keep it casual okay?”

“Yes dad,” you mocked.

You only ate a piece of bread with spread as your breakfast before returning to your room to prepare. Jay has sent you a message that he’ll pick you up at twelve noon. 

You fished out one of your casual clothes which is a soft cardigan and summer dress. You paired it with your mary jane doll shoes and kept your hair untied and flowy. After putting on some light makeup and accessories, you went out of your room to wait for Jay. You strut down towards the living where Yunjin and Jake are watching some series. 

“Oh my god, you look so gorgeous! You really prepared yourself, didn't you?” Yunjin compliments. 

“If it wasn’t for your revenge thingy, I would assume that you’re dressing to impress Jay,” Jake comments, earning a light punch from you. 

“Shut up, if he ever posts me on his social media, I should at least prepare myself right?” you pointed out, making the two laugh. 

And before the conversation could continue, you heard the doorbell of your flat ring, which indicated that Jay’s here. 

“Wow he’s early. He’s never been early in his band practices,” Jake stated. 

“He’s excited for you!” Yunjin squealed, shaking your shoulders as she pushed you towards the entrance.

You only laugh as you stop in front of the door, glancing at your roommates who only shushes you to answer the door. 

Jay stood there in his glory, and like the first time you two met — he’s rocking his signature polo shirt but this time, it’s a loose and button-down, paired with formal slacks. He styled his hair in a boyish look which complimented him more. 

“Hi,” he greets you with a smile, and before you could say anything, he pulls something from his back. “Flowers?”

You could only smile as you grabbed the bouquet from him. “Lilies! How did you —”

“Thank me later!” Jake interrupted, which made you realise that your two roommates have been watching the scene. 

“Right —” you only chuckled, “Jay, my roommates Yunjin and Jake, you probably know them.”

“Hi!” Yunjin greets lightly. 

“I hope we get some leftovers from your date,” Jake casually said. 

You only laughed at their comments before glancing at Jay. “should we get going?”

“I’ll bring back y/n later at night,” Jay excused, grabbing your hand before waving goodbye to the two. 

“Enjoy your date!” Yunjin giggled. 

“Our leftovers, don’t forget!” Jake repeated. 

You and Jay were laughing on the way down and towards his car. 

“Remind me to buy Jake some food okay?” Jay jokes as he turns on the engine of his car, driving away from your dorm in a slow manner. 

“You really owe him big time huh?” you teased, glancing at the bouquet that he gave you. You always love lilies. The arrangement was gorgeous with small daisies and baby breaths wrapped around a delicate white and baby pink wrapper. 

“Without him, I wouldn’t be able to know more about you,” Jay explained, eyes still focused on the road. “That idiot took his time to tell me that you’re his roommate.”

You only laughed, “small world right?”

“Right.”

After an hour of driving, you catched a glimpse of the place that Jay bought you. You only glanced at him who’s smiling as he turned the car towards the entrance. 

“An oceanarium, what an interesting choice,” you teased, but there’s a huge smile on your face. 

“You like it?” he asked. 

You hummed for a minute, “Jake told you that I like the ocean?”

“You do?” Jay laughs, “no, this is just a coincidence but glad to know that I brought you to the right place.”

The oceanarium was crowded when you two went to the entrance. It took you a half an hour waiting time for the two of you to enter. 

Displays of aquariums welcomed you two. Your mouth gasping at the glass ceiling where marine creatures swam freely around the space. You were too immersed with the view that you had forgotten Jay who’s walking behind you. Smiling as he watches you be in awe at the place. 

He lets you walk around the area, following you wherever you want. You didn’t even notice how every time you’re standing in daze in front of an aquarium, Jay fishes out his phone to take a photo of you. His smile never left as he placed his phone back in his pocket. 

“You know, I always wanted to be a marine biologist,” you started, staring at the stingray passing by. 

Jay leans towards the aquarium, scanning the whole place. “Really? That’s a bit far from your program.”

“Decelis doesn’t offer that marine biology,” you only smiled. “But I’m content with my program.” 

Jay only chuckled. The two of you stood there, trying to be immersed with the place. The blue waters painting you two in that hue as the faint background of the ocean waves played on the speaker. 

“Wow,” you mumbled, catching a glimpse of a school of angelfish passing by. 

Jay on the other hand, couldn’t help but to keep on glancing at you. Smiling like an idiot because he chose the right place to take you. His eyes darted on your hand freely hanging. For a second Jay pondered, but his courage won over him. 

You were a bit startled when you felt Jay’s fingers brushing against yours, and in a split second, his hands slipped onto yours, intertwining with your fingers. You glanced at Jay and he only gave you a smile, tugging your heart in a light manner. 

“Should we go to the next area?”

The two of you walked together towards the next area, a dimmed room filled with small exhibitions of marine creatures that can be found in the deeper part of the ocean. Jay can hear your soft gasps and astonishment as your head scans every display. You two walked further until you two reached a larger area. 

“Oh my god,” you muttered, quickly walking towards the huge glass that displayed a swarm of jellyfish, unknowingly you let go of Jay’s hand. You stood there, hands clasping on the glass as you watched them glow brightly under the dark blue waters, igniting a white light as it swims freely around the area. 

Jay remained standing from where he was standing, snapping another photo of you. He stared at it for a good minute, thinking how you look so beautiful despite the little light the place beams. He watched as you turned around, motioning him to come to you, which Jay only smiled as he walked towards you. 

“It’s so beautiful right?” you said, eyes never leaving the display. 

“Yeah, so beautiful” and as you looked at Jay, he was only staring at you. You can feel your face heating up, making you look away embarrassed. You can hear Jay’s soft chuckle, making you lightly punch his arms. 

“Stop that won’t you?” you muttered, embarrassed. 

“You look cute when you’re flustered,” Jay teased. 

“Shut up Jay,” you whined, walking away from the area, which only Jay followed you with a teasing smile on his face. 

After looking at every display inside the oceanarium, you two stumbled upon the souvenir shop where you found yourself staring at a small selection of keychains. 

“Found yourself something?” Jay asked, making you shift your head to him, before glancing at the keychain again. 

“Nothing, let’s go,” you said, but Jay pulls you. 

“You want the keychain? Come on, it’s cute,” Jay said, grabbing the starfish and jellyfish. 

“No, it’s okay, it’s a bit pricey too —”

“It’s on me, don’t worry,” Jay assured, and before you could even rebut, Jay had made his way towards the counter, fishing out his wallet and paying the keychains with ease. 

“Here,” Jay hands you the jellyfish keychain, smiling at you as he waved the plastic bag with the other keychain inside. 

“So that we can match,” he pointed out, and that only made you laugh. 

“Fine, if you insist,” but nonchalantly said, but deep inside you can feel your heart beating fast. 

You and Jay had a late lunch at a local restaurant near the oceanarium, enjoying a hearty meal with a side of takeout for your two hungry roommates. You two shared a few conversations and you’ve learned more about Jay — shifting the conversation to Yoomi. 

“I do know her, she was a schoolmate of mine, I was surprised that she studies in Decelis,” Jay laughs. “Why? What’s with Yoomi?”

You only bite your lips, suppressing a bitter laugh, “she used to be a friend of mine but she stole my boyfriend and yeah,” shrugging it off as you focus your attention on your meal.

“Wait, your ex-boyfriend cheated on you with your best friend?” Jay asked, appalled. 

You shrugged once again, “guess it was like that, I didn’t ask for an explanation because damn, what for right?” 

“Wow,” Jay said, shocked. He leaned against his seat as he tried to sink everything. “Damn, they’re a bunch of assholes.”

“I know but let’s just change the topic before I lose my appetite here,” you jokingly said. 

“I can’t believe it,” Jay leans against his chair. “I mean this is just an impression but I never thought Yoomi would do that.”

That’s when you bitterly smiled, “I thought so too.” you said with disappointment. 

Thankfully, Jay didn’t push further. He darted his attention to his meal instead, having you two eat in silence. You knew that bringing up your past may be an awkward thing to do during dates but the least you can do is give Jay a hint about your past relationship. 

The drive on the way back was quiet, yet comfortable. You could only listen to the music playing on the car’s stereo, a collection of old love songs that Jay had played from his phone. It was a random choice but it completely suited the vibe of the evening. You watched from the window the busy streets of the city. People walking down the streets, the opened establishments of local stores and their colorful signs, glistening just like the street lights. Everything just feels serene for you. 

Soon, you two reached your place. As Jay parked the car on the side, that’s when you realized that you just finished your date. 

“I had fun,” you blurted out. Removing your seatbelt before giving Jay a glance. “Thank you Jay for this day.”

“I’m glad you had fun,” Jay said, and the next thing you knew, his hands brushed the stray hairs that covered your face, you were a bit startled but didn’t move. 

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, and you could only blink, trying to sink in what he just said. 

“Of course Jay,” you smiled. 

Jay leans closer to you, making you close your eyes as you feel his soft lips crashing onto yours. It felt surreal for you, but your lips moved on its own as you kissed Jay back. It was soft and gentle, as if he was careful of hurting you. You can feel it that way when his hands never left your face, thumb caressing your cheeks as the kiss continued. 

And what felt like an hour broke down the minute you broke from the kiss. Catching your breath as you looked at Jay who had a soft smile on his lips. 

“Goodnight y/n,” he said, placing another kiss on your lips. “See you again?”

With that, you lightfully kissed him in the lips again. “Of course, goodnight Jay.”

And just like that, you returned to your apartment with a smile on your lips. More determined to continue your plan on getting back to your ex-best friend. 

-

Monday arrived and Yoomi cornered you in the hallway. 

“You went out on a date with Jay,” she said to you, looking more betrayed than ever. 

“How did you know?” you asked instead, knowing that Jay didn’t post you in his social media. 

“Hana saw you. Jay walked you to your apartment with a bouquet,” she added. Right. You thought. You almost forgot you have a former friend who lives nearby your dorm. 

“It’s just a date,” you shrugged casually, knowing that Yoomi doesn’t take a ‘date with Jay’ lightly. She’ll sell her soul just to have a date with Jay. 

“You knew I liked Jay from the start,” Yoomi gritted her teeth. “Have you ever heard of girl’s code?”

That’s when a mocking laughter escaped your lips, “funny that you said that, ever heard of it when you went behind my back and stole Yeonjun?”

“Yeonjun approached me first,” she explained, her tone becoming soft like she was asking for your sympathy. “And I know that it was mistake but for the first time, someone noticed me and I couldn’t help it —”

“Even if it was your best friend’s boyfriend?” 

“You were too good for Yeonjun anyway! You never prioritise your relationship with him and become too focused on your academics.” she immediately rebutted, tone shifting into  a defensive one. 

Her words made you let out a chuckle. Her reason made no sense for you, and it just fueled your anger at her. It didn’t make any sense that your academics will be the reason for you to be cheated — Yeonjun knew that from the start, it has always been your priority. You two always had study dates, and sometimes Yoomi would even join you too. So it didn’t made sense for you why that’s the reason for your life to get fucked. 

You couldn’t believe that after a year of cutting her off, this is the first time you’ll confront her. So much for a Monday morning for you. You always convince yourself that there’s no need to hear her side, but there’s a small itch inside you that wants to know — in hopes that maybe it can heal a bit of the huge damage that scarred you. 

“Is that so?” you raised an eyebrow. “Well, for your information, Jay approached me first, and for the first time ever since Yeonjun and I broke up, someone noticed me. So I guess we’re even.” 

You can see in her eyes that she was surprised. Her eyes started to water as if she was stabbed in her heart with a long dagger. And as you stare at her with a bored look, a bitter smile forms on your lips. “Why are you so bothered that I am seeing Jay? You have Yeonjun already, right?”

Yoomi didn’t say anything. She stood there frozen as you lazily shrugged your shoulders. “Yoomi, Jay was never yours in the first place right? So there’s nothing wrong with me dating him,” you explained. “And there’s no girl’s code here, because we’re not friends anymore either.”

You gave her a genuine smile before you left her there standing. You walked your way towards your classroom when you felt your phone vibrating. Grabbing it, you smiled as you received a text from Jay. Talking about good timing, he asked you to hangout with him after school. 

“Of course,” you mumbled as you sent your reply to him. 

You felt satisfied with the confrontation. Now that Yoomi knows that you’re dating Jay, you wanted to crush her even more. More dates, more show-off. And who knows, maybe you’ll get to sleep with Jay too. That’s not part of your plan but you know that it’ll leave Yoomi into insanity. 

The day moved at a fast pace, the next thing you knew, your prof dismissed the class with a few reminders. As you pack your things, Yunjin eyes on you teasingly. 

“You’re going to ditch us again huh? Is this what having a love life feels like!?” Unlike you, Yunjin likes throwing remarks, and she made sure her voice is loud enough for Yoomi to turn her head towards your direction. 

“It’s nothing, he just asked me if we can hangout later,” you casually said. 

“You’re so shameless,” Yunjin rolled her eyes making you laugh.

You can feel Yoomi’s eyes never leaving yours, and you faintly smirked as you and Yunjin exit the classroom. 

Outside the department, Jay was waiting near the benches. As soon as he saw you, Jay smiled as he approached you and Yunjin. You can feel the stares darting towards you and Jay, that’s when you remember that Jay’s kinda famous around the campus because of Arcanum. You didn’t like the attention, but knowing that any minute, Yoomi will exit the building, you let it be. 

“Hi,” Jay greets, smiling at you two. “Hi Yunjin.”

“Thanks for the leftovers by the way, hopefully we can have some again tonight,” Yunjin teased, making you elbow your friend. 

“Ignore her,” you laughed. “Let’s go?”

You and Jay began walking towards the parking lot. This isn’t the first time you and Jay had walked together inside the campus, but this is like your ��soft-launch’ with your relationship with him, given that he was carrying your tote bag throughout the whole time. 

And if that doesn’t give you satisfaction, Yunjin sent you a message saying that Yoomi saw you and Jay leave together, making you smile as you put down your phone in your pocket. 

“You’re smiling,” Jay pointed out.

You only hum lightly, grabbing Jay’s hands and intertwining it with yours. You felt the way Jay was surprised by your actions, but let it be, his smile turning wider. 

“Just in a happy mood,” you explained. “So, where are we going?”

You found yourself in a familiar place — The Rabbit Hole, which is a mixture of coffee shop and bar lounge. It’s Arcanum’s usual spot for their gig. You’re so familiar with the place that you know that their gig starts at seven in the evening. And by seven, the place will be crowded with their fans and students, it’ll be loud, a bit chaotic but it’s a good chaos.

It made you wonder if Yoomi’s going to show up to support Jay since she never missed Arcanum’s gig. You sat by a corner table, your tote bag placed on top as you scan the menu. 

“Hi! You’re here again!” The Rabbit Hole is under Decelis University’s funding, and often one of their students would work there as part-timers. One of them being Kim Sunoo, who’s smile never fades especially when it’s a full house. 

“Hi Sunoo! I miss you,” you smiled, giving the junior a hug. “How’s work here?”

“All the same, but it was nice seeing you again! You’re my favorite customer, you know?” he complimented. 

“Thanks Sunoo, I’ll have the usual, you still remember it right?” you said. 

“Of course, orange flower cocktail and wedged fries. Just sit back and relax, because it seems like Arcanum has a special performance tonight,” the younger winks at you before leaving towards the kitchen. His words leave you wondering as you watch Arcanum set up. 

It didn’t take a while for the place to be filled with people. You can see your fellow schoolmates still in their department uniform, not even bother changing clothes. Locals and supporters also filled the area. It had become so busy that Sunoo moved you to the bar counter in which you were accompanied by their new part-timer named Riki. 

You only munched on your fries as you scanned the whole place, and near the stage you saw Yoomi, along with some of your former friends, talking as they waited for Arcanum’s performance. You watched as they laughed and cheered their colorful cocktails while you sat on the corner, eating your soggy fries and drinking your melted drink. 

You can feel a tug on your heart, watching how they had fun especially when you used to have a place there. You never felt more lonely by the counter, wishing that you brought your roommates along with you. 

A static sound interrupted your thoughts, shifting your attention to the stage where Arcanum’s main vocalist and bassist, Lee Heeseung taps the mic. He waves to the crowd and smiles, earning a few screams from their fans. 

“Are you guys ready to have fun!?” he shouted, and the crowd shouted “yes!” in response. You can see the smirk from the oldest as he glances at his bandmates. Your eyes darted on Jay who changed his uniform to a casual streetwear outfit — far different from his usual looks but he looks good. 

“I think the energy is still low hyung,” Jungwon, who’s on the drums, teases. Earning a few uproar from the crowd, which made the band laugh.

“Let me ask one more time, are you guys ready to have fun!?” This time, the crowd became louder, enough for you to be startled. You hear Heeseung laugh as he counts down from three and with that, they begin playing their song. 

From the many times you attended their gig, this is the first time you decided to watch their performance. Eyes locked on the stage as Heeseung began singing, making you realise that there’s a reason why they’re popular despite being a university band. 

The crowd was singing along, making you an odd one out who’s only nodding her head along the beat. Your eyes darted on Jay, you watched as he passionately played the instrument. He was feeling it like he was a rockstar

Damn. You couldn’t help but to lock your eyes on him. He was absolutely heaven to stare at, and it only took you this time to realise why girls like Yoomi go crazy over him. It didn’t sink into you that you’ve been staring for too long that when Jay glanced at you, you were surprised. But you saw how Jay smiled before winking at you. You can feel your cheeks heating up, unknown how Jay had this effect on you. 

Arcanum performed five songs, with a few pause for the band’s introduction and their self-composed songs. They were fun to watch. They interacted with the crowd and moreover, made them laugh too. 

“But before we move on to our next song, we have a surprise for you guys,” Heeseung started. His eyes darted on Jay, earning a few teases from Jungwon and Sunghoon.

“This is a rare occasion, so you guys are lucky to witness this one,” Sunghoon added. 

“Right! We practiced hard for this one,” Jungwon added

You were too focused with their ment that you didn’t felt Sunoo’s nudge until he did it again, you only glanced at the younger who gave you a meaningful smile. 

“Okay, we don’t want to wait for too long right? Jay, the floor is yours,” Heeseung exchanges his place with Jay who stood in front of the mic, holding his electric guitar. A few cheers can be heard but you can hear a familiar voice that keeps on screaming “Park Jongseong!”

You shifted your attention towards Yoomi who’s hopping like a bunny, shouting Jay’s full name with her whole heart. Damn. You thought. She really is not over Jay. 

“Hi guys, I’m Jay, Arcanum’s electric guitarist,” Jay introduces. “This is kinda cringe, but when you really love someone, you just want to dedicate a few songs to her right?.”

“I don’t think I did that to my girlfriend dude,” Heeseung rebuts, making the room laugh. 

Jay only chuckles, “shut up, you wrote a song about her — but anyways, I just want to dedicate a few songs to the girl who holds a place in my heart.” With that, the crowd cooed at Jay's words. 

But you felt the world shutting down. Ears muted as you watched Jay glance from where you were sitting. You didn’t notice that you were left stunned, not until you felt Sunoo shaking your shoulder out of teasing.  

You can feel it, a few people glancing at you, your heart beating rapidly like crazy. Things didn’t sink in your mind until Jay strummed the first chords of the song. 

“I love you. But I don't really show you,” the lyrics said. You watch as Jay serenades the crowd with a song that you knew very well talks about love. You can hear the cheers, and then there’s the whispers, oblivious people wondering who the special girl was. 

Jay sang the song with much sincerity, ending it with a short guitar solo which made the crowd be in awe with his skills. Screams and shouts continued until the last chord. You couldn’t help but to applause, a smile forming on your lips as you stood up from your chair. 

“Seems like they love your voice Jay-hyung,” Jungwon complimented, making the audience laugh, chanting Jay’s name which made the boy flustered. 

“Do you guys want more?” he asked, and all he received was a loud yes from the crowd. 

“Alright, for the next one, it’s a new song we composed. It's a bit chill but I hope you guys like it,” Jay said, turning around to his bandmate who immediately got the cue. 

Sunghoon started off the song with a short intro from his keyboards. It was soft and gentle, almost like a lullaby. It wasn’t until Jungwon accompanied it with drums then came along the bass and guitar. 

It felt unreal, a song that when you first hear, you’ll feel like you’re falling in love.  You were hooked by the melody, watching as Jay glanced at you before turning his attention to the crowd. 

“X-O, X-O, kiss me, don't let go,” Jay sang, smiling ear to ear as he sang the lyrics in an upbeat manner. 

It was cute, yet short, all you can hear was Jay’s vocals, sometimes harmonizing with his bandmates. You didn’t even notice that the song had ended, if it wasn’t for the crowd’s cheering, you would have been caught in daze due to the performance. 

“So what Jay was trying to say, he deserves a kiss from his special girl,” Heeseung stated, which earned a few screams from the crowd. 

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” Sunghoon shouted, starting the chant which was followed by the crowd. 

You only laugh as you try to sink in your seat, embarrassed. But it didn’t help that Sunoo and Riki teamed-up to pull you up from your seat, almost carrying you as the crowd’s chants got louder the moment you reached the stage. You were left with no choice but to face it especially when the two juniors pushed you specifically at Jay who managed to get a hold of you from falling. 

You can hear the crowd teasing the two of you. If it wasn’t enough, Jay’s bandmates joined the fun too, you could only hide behind Jay’s back but Heeseung managed to pull you away from Jay. 

“Nice to meet you Jay’s special girl,” Heeseung smiles and you only chuckled. Facing him since you were left with no choice but to accept the request. “You don’t mind it right? The crowd’s curious about you because this is like the first time Jay sang during a gig, so consider yourself lucky.”

Your eyes widen at Heeseung’s words, hiding your flustered feeling by letting out an awkward laugh. Your words got stuck on your throat as you only glanced at Jay who’s like a confused cat, standing in front of you. 

“You’ll be okay with it?” Jay asked you, tone hinted with worry. 

That’s when you can feel from your peripheral vision that your ex-best friend is watching every move that you’ll do. Everything’s coming into pieces for you. Although the peer pressure is there, what would be more satisfying than seeing Yoomi’s reaction especially when she just confronted you earlier this morning?

“I don’t mind,” you answered Jay, giving him a small smile before signaling him to lean closer. 

But you wanted to tease a little bit, hence, your lips landed on his cheeks which caused an uproar from the audience. They kept on chanting that you two should kiss again, but you only shook your head while Jay was speechless. 

“Okay that’s enough pda, we don’t want to get suspended by our uni alright? Y/n is still in her uniform guys,” Heeseung managed to calm down the crowd, while you and Jay remained there frozen. You can hear Jungwon and Sunghoon’s laughters from behind, before they went near the two of you, teasing Jay who could only looked away with his ears turning red. 

After that scandalous scene, Arcanum performed a few songs and covers before they finished their gig. You watched as the band members got swarmed by a few people. They attentively took their time to take photos and signed some papers for them. They weren’t just popular for their music, but they were also kind and soft-hearted. Each interaction was genuine. 

Your eyes shifted to Jay who’s busy talking to a fan when you noticed that Yoomi was approaching him. You stopped your tracks, standing up from your seat which caught Jay’s attention, making an eye contact with you, you only gave him a quick smile which made him excuse himself from the fans — not even sparing a glance at Yoomi who wasn’t able to tap his shoulders. 

“Sorry it took a bit long, we were supposed to end around nine,” he apologized as soon as he’s in front of you. It was nearing ten and the place was still crowded, with the speakers blasting a few pop songs to hype up the crowd.

“It’s okay, I enjoyed your performance,” you gave him a smile. From where you were sitting, you witnessed how Yoomi returned to her table disappointed, which made you smile even wider. 

“I’m glad you did. I was supposed to take you to dinner but it’s getting late already.” Jay sighed in relief.

“It’s okay, I did order food while watching your gig.” you insisted.

“How about this, we can have dinner some other time.” Jay suggested, making you raise an eyebrow.

“And where’s this dinner going to be held huh?”

-

How you ended up in Jay’s apartment wasn't what you expected. And yet, you’re there standing in front of his door, ringing the bell twice, and just thinking “whatever happens tonight, happens.”

It’s been a few days since the Rabbit Hole gig. Your little stunt spread throughout Decelis — which instantly concluded that you and Jay are dating, and the only small details students don’t know are whether it is exclusively or casual. Yoomi hasn't bothered you ever since, but you know that she’s been drilling holes whenever you’re near her vicinity. You know that she’s been itching to confront you again, but because of the embarrassment that she felt that night, she distanced herself for some time. 

Then you recalled that night you first met Jay, how he asked you to go to his place and you rejected him. Now, everything has come full circle because you’re about to have dinner with him in his place — that is, if dinner will actually happen. 

Jay opens the door for you, planting a kiss on your temple as you walk inside. You scanned the whole place. It was huge, clean, and a bit cozy with the jazz music playing on his vinyl record player. 

“Your place looks nice,” you complimented. 

“Thanks,” Jay muttered, walking towards the kitchen wherein you trailed to.

You watch as Jay busies himself in the kitchen. You can smell the heavenly smell of sauteed garlic and rosemary on butter, pots on the stove boiling some pasta while there’s the sizzling sound of steak on a hot pan. 

“That looks delicious,” you peeked through the stove, eyeing Jay's skillful hands as he cooked the sauce. “Is there anything that I can help?”

Jay only gave you a smile as he prepared everything with ease, “no need to worry about dinner, just go sit on the couch, you can watch some series on my tv.”

“Well, I would rather watch you cook instead,” you pursued, leaning against the kitchen counter. 

“You’re just here to distract me,” Jay teased, eyes never left the stove.

“Maybe I do have plans on distracting you.”

Jay shifted his glance on you, letting out a soft chuckle as he stole another kiss on your cheeks before passing by you. He heads towards the corner where a stack of wine is placed. 

“Want some?” he raises the bottle, and you only nod, watching Jay open the bottle and pour on two glasses. He gave you the other one which you mumbled your thanks, taking a little sip on it, while Jay continued his cooking. 

“This is nice,” you hummed. “This is new.” 

“Never had homemade dinner with him?” Jay asked, and you knew who he was referring to.

You only shake your head. Memories rushing through your mind, thinking about the dates you and Yeonjun had. Some were grandeur, while some were plain. Most of the time you two would go to coffee shops and study your hearts out. It was quiet and tranquil, and productive too. 

Your mind shifted to Yoomi’s words a few days ago, how you were so focused with your academics — wondering if it was also the cause of your relationship’s downfall. That may be the reason why Yeonjun cheated you with Yoomi. 

You mindlessly took a sip on the wine as you pondered your thoughts, not noticing the way Jay kept on glancing at you. 

“Sorry I brought it up,” Jay blurted out, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“It’s okay, just had a little pondering,” you smiled. 

“I don’t mind listening,” Jay said, still busying himself with his cooking. 

“I think I’m the problem,” you mumbled. “It didn’t surprise me that Yeonjun left me, I’m plain, introvert, and a bit tamed — I always prioritise my studies over anything else, and maybe Yeonjun felt like he’s not a huge part of my life that’s why he left —”

“That doesn’t excuse him cheating and Yoomi going behind your back,” Jay said. “There’s nothing wrong with you, and I admire that you have your goal set. It’s Yeonjun’s problem that he couldn’t accept that.” 

You only bitterly laugh as Jay’s words felt comforting, you can hear from his tone that he was defensive about you which you were glad that he was. 

“Let’s just forget about them alright? Tonight’s about us,” Jay insisted, and you let him be. 

Dinner felt more special especially when Jay took his time plating the dish as he served it in front of you. His smile never leaves his lips as he watches you take a bite from the steak. You could only hum as you took another bite while Jay, who’s in front of you, is waiting for your words. 

“God I should just marry you,” you blurted out. “How do you even cook so good?” 

“Just some basic skills,” Jay nonchalantly said, making you chuckle.

Dinner continued on, with Jay bringing the wine you two were drinking earlier, accompanied by a heavenly molten cake that he bought from a local pastry shop. The night became deeper as your conversation became endless as you two moved towards the kitchen where the cake and wine remained while you helped Jay with the dishes. 

The dishes were on the rack but you and Jay remained in the kitchen, conversation never fading as you two shifted from one topic to another. 

“Okay, I want you to be honest,” you laughed, a bit tipsy with the amount of wine you had drank. “Did you find it cringe when I said that fate will find a way for us to meet?”

“Cringe? No, but confused, yeah a bit,” Jay confessed. “Maybe it was a mind game of yours but I was really confused how you rely on fate —”

“So you don’t believe in fate!” you pointed out, laughter becoming loud. 

Jay became quiet for a moment, “actually, I did slowly believe in fate, you know that I was supposed to pass by your building? You know, just in case I bumped into you. But it seems like fate made it easier and I found you halfway.”

That’s when you stopped, realizing that Jay’s words had become serious.

“You really searched for me, didn’t you?” you asked with a soft tone. “You really don’t want to rely on fate, won’t you?”

“Why wait for the universe to make a move when I can do it by myself?” 

At that moment the atmosphere became heavy. Suddenly, you felt tense. 

Jay’s sharp gaze remained at you, observing you in every possible way and he couldn’t help but to curse under his breath. Your eyes that were staring at him were so innocent that he wondered where’s the girl who made him chase the game. 

His hand slowly trailed to your cheeks, he watched whether you'd flinch or not – but you stood there, eyes never leaving his. 

“Tell me to stop,” he breathes. “And I won’t do it.”

Your heart skips a beat hearing those words. Your mind started to be clouded by thoughts. This is it. You thought. Doing the worst thing that will crash your ex-best friend’s heart. 

How good will it feel to finally get back to Yoomi? It was the first thing that you thought as you pulled Jay for a kiss, an action so brass but you didn’t care. You’ve waited long for this. 

Jay responded to your kiss softly. Savoring your lips, as he tastes the lingering chocolate you two had earlier. He gently grabbed you on your waist as he pushed you lightly against the counter, closing the proximity between the two of you. This is way different from the first time you two kissed, something about it felt intense, as if you two are dying to taste each other. 

The kiss broke in just a few seconds, you were catching your breath as Jay trailed his lips from your mouth down to your jawline. Peppering soft kisses which left you even more breathless. You can feel his hands playing around the hem of your blouse. Slipping underneath as you felt his hot hands carefully climbing upwards your chest. 

“Jay —” you called out but you couldn’t even bother to finish your sentence. 

“I’ll take care of you, don’t worry,” he assured between his kisses. 

“I don’t think we should do it here,” you managed to finish your sentence making Jay stop. 

He looked at you with wide eyes, and you felt nervous, wondering if you ruined the atmosphere. But Jay only chuckles as he sealed your lips with his. “If that’s what my girl wants.” 

He pulled you out of the kitchen and rushed towards his bedroom. As you two reach the entrance, he opens the door and gestures for you to come inside like some gentleman he is. You only laughed as you walked past through him, but you shortly let out a yelp as he smacked your ass in the process.

You hear Jay chuckle as he closes and locks the bedroom door. 

“Not funny,” you mumbled, rolling your eyes. 

“Aw, come here pretty girl,” he grabs your face and kisses you once again. 

You didn’t hold back either. You kissed him back with much intensity. Wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer to you, the same way he grabs you by your waist. 

Jay shifted for a second to pull off his top and your eyes went wide by his action. You always knew that Jay’s physique was good, you can see it from his fitted polo shirts and tank tops, but god, seeing it up close just brought heaven to you. 

Your eyes wandered to his chest down to his abs which you unconsciously trailed with your fingers. God he’s so fucking hot. Despite the room being dim-lighted, you can still see how good his body was. You couldn’t help but to bite your lips as your touch lingered to his body. 

“Eyes up here,” Jay calls out, and as you glance at him once again, he traps you with his kiss. 

You two continued to make out, lips never leaving each other as you started to unbutton your blouse. Discarding it somewhere in the room before you placed your arms around Jay once again. As you two found the edge of his bed, Jay pulled you towards him, forcing you to sit on his lap as you two didn’t stop. 

Jay trailed his lips down to your neck, making you whimper lightly. He bites down at any bare skin, sucking and licking it that you’re sure he was leaving hickeys on it. You let him be, imagining how scandalous it will be for you to show up in class with your neck full of marks. 

You could only moan in pleasure as you let Jay continue abusing your neck. That’s when you focused on your pleasure, finding Jay’s hard on nearby your clothed cunt. You start grinding on it, trying to find friction despite the layers covered. 

“You’re eager for me, pretty girl?” he whispered huskily. You didn’t say a word, you continued grinding on him when you felt his hands on your waist. 

“Couldn’t even say a word huh?” That's when Jay’s hands shifted on your bra, removing its clasp and exposing your bare chest in front of him.

Jay didn’t waste any time, he grabs you by your waist and places you down on his bed. He traps you in between his legs, hovering over you as he stares at you lovingly. 

Something in your mind stroked you. The thought that Jay — Yoomi’s first love — is on top of you, looking at you like you’re his everything. It fueled a fire in you, you feel your pride swelling as you lightly cup his cheeks once again. That’s when it hit you — everything is real. 

“You’re nervous?” he asked,  holding your hands that were cupping his cheeks.

You shake your head as an answer. You watched as Jay removed your hands and kissed it with much tenderness. Your heart started to beat fast. The room’s temperature started to rise, but you were left there speechless as Jay leaned on to you to kiss you on the lips. 

“I’ll take care of you, don't worry,” he whispered as if it’s your first time. 

It’s actually your first time after your break-up. You lost trust in romance and intimacy after what happened. And you never thought that you'd go this far. Will it be worth letting yourself bare in front of a man? You pondered whether if it wasn’t getting back to Yoomi, would you still have sex with Jay?

You snapped out of your thoughts when you felt Jay’s touch lingered on your breast. He cups it without any hesitation, playing your nipples as he pinches your left one, making you moan. 

“Let out those sounds baby,” he said. “I need to hear you.”

Jay latches on your right nipple, sucking it harshly as you whimper under his touch. He continued to take his time playing with your breast which only leaves you breathless yet wanting more. He took things slowly but you couldn’t avoid the aching feeling between your thighs. You tried to buck your hips upward, trying to find friction on his body.

“Jay —” you called out before a sharp moan escaped your lips. Jay continued sucking your breast with hunger as his hands pinned you down from moving. 

“Be a good girl for me, won’t you?” That's when Jay unbuttons your pants, pulling it downward and leaving you in your underwear. You unconsciously close your legs, embarrassed as you feel bare in front of Jay. But you were surprised when Jay pulled you closer to him, hands gripping on your thighs as he pushed your legs wider. 

“Don’t be shy now, come on, let me make you feel good.” 

Jay said it so gently like he whispered a spell on you, you slowly spread your legs wider. Giving him access to your clothed pussy. Your breath hitches as his fingers feathered around the wet patch of your panties. Pressing his fingers to it, making you whimper. 

“You’re already wet for me? We barely even started,” he teased. 

“Jay — please,” you pleaded. “Please, let me feel you inside me.” 

As much as Jay wanted to, he wanted to savor you first. His fingers snapped through the waistband, glancing at you as if he was asking for your permission. You only nod, feeling dazed already as Jay removes your underwear, eyes locked at your dripping cunt. 

You let out a small whimper as you felt his fingers trailing through your pussy lips, gathering your wetness as he gazed at it hungrily. And it didn’t take you a second to process that he swipes his tongue on his fingers.

“Taste fucking good,” Jay cursed. “Can I?”

You mindlessly nod, and with that, Jay dives down to your warm core.

You let out a small mewl as you felt Jay’s tongue swiping through your core. Lapping at its lips like he was starving for it. Jay’s tongue harshly tasted every inch of your pussy that you couldn’t do anything but to writhe under his mouth. His hands gripped on your thighs tightly, holding you from moving as he continued to taste you. 

“You’re so sweet for me,” Jay whispered. You could only moan in pleasure as he latches onto your pussy once again, feeling his tongue inside you as his nose brushes lightly against your clit. You couldn’t help but to grab Jay’s hair, grinding against his face as you moan his name. 

That’s when you feel it. The coil inside your stomach tightening, a raspy groan escaping your lips as your hold on Jay’s hair tightens.

“J-jay, I’m gonna —” you couldn’t even finish your sentence. Too lost in pleasure as Jay’s tongue continued to abuse your insides. 

“Gonna cum for me baby?” Jay mumbled, kissing your clit as he swipes his tongue through your core. “Come on, cum.”

That’s when you felt something snapped. Jay devours you as a muted moan leaves your mouth. You can feel the tears rolling down, too lost in pleasure as Jay eats you out to your orgasm. 

Your legs were shaking from the aftermath. Eyes drowsy as you felt yourself tired from the feeling. It didn’t register that Jay had crawled over you, kissing you on the lips which you could only whimper back. You can taste yourself as you kiss him back, his hands cupping your cheeks lightly as your lips find each other. 

“My girl did so good,” Jay whispered to you, kissing you on your cheeks as he lightly chuckled.

That’s when you felt the courage. Hands trailing on his stomach downwards where his obvious boner was. You lightly palmed his bulge, which earned a groan from Jay. 

“My turn,” you told him, and before you could move, Jay stopped you. 

“You don’t need to,” he said. “Tonight is all about you.” 

“Then, let me ride you Jay,” you proposed instead. 

“If that’s what you want baby,” Jay kisses you before pulling you out of the bed. 

You two switched positions, Jay settled on his back as he watched you tug his sweatpants, glancing at him before pulling it downwards along with his boxer. 

Jay’s cock springs upwards, hard and girthy. Beads of pre-cum leaking from its tip. You curse under your breath as you wrap your hands around it, stroking it lightly, making Jay’s breathing uneven. 

It was stupid of yours to compare Jay’s dick from Yeonjun’s as you continue to stroke it. Sure, your ex’ dick was big but he was a bigger dick. And the only thing in your mind right now is that you’ll get to feel Jay’s cock inside you — and your bitch of an ex-best friend couldn’t. Yoomi can enjoy Yeonjun’s dick as much as she wants. While you? You’re going to ride Jay’s cock like there’s no tomorrow.

That’s why you hastily placed yourself on top of Jay, your pussy just enough to feather against Jay’s cock. You decided to test the waters, grinding your pussy against his cock,  a whimper escaping your lips along with Jay’s harsh moans. You continuously moved your hips in a slow motion, creating a heavy tension between you and Jay. 

You can feel his hands finding its way to your waist. You glanced at Jay who only bit his lips — you knew, he was controlling himself. That’s when you grabbed his cock, eyes never leaving Jay who watched you lustfully. You lifted your hips, aligning his cock on your entrance. Slowly, you sink into his dick, a choked moan leaving your lips as you can feel yourself full with his dick barely halfway inside. 

As if you needed some help, Jay thrust his hips upwards, making you moan as his cock slid inside you with ease. You hold onto his stomach as you try to support from the sensation. 

“So — full,” you choked as you grind against his cock, taking time to adjust to its size.

“You’re taking me so well, pretty girl,” Jay mumbled, slapping your ass which made you flinch. “Too big for your tight pussy? Can you even take it?”

You only glared at Jay as he lazily smirks at you. That’s when you started to buck your hips. Slowly you rise your hips enough for his tip to remain inside you. You slammed yourself down, making you whimper in pleasure. You continued to ride Jay, bouncing on his cock at a pace that leaves you full as his tip continued to slide your insides, stabbing your cervix that had you choking on your breath. 

“You look so beautiful from here,” Jay stated in between his moans. You can feel his hips bucking upwards, finding his own pleasure as you two meet halfway. Jay’s right hand grips on your waist to support you while his left hand trailed upwards to play with your breast, pinching your left nipple that had you arching your back. Head rolling as you fasten your pace.

And as you looked down at him, you saw Jay’s fucked-out expression. The way his hands grip tightly on your waist, his stomach stiffening as he breathy moans escape his lips. You loved the way his brows furrowed in aggression, you can feel his dick twitching inside you as you continued to ride him. 

“And you look so gorgeous from up here,” you teased, leaning towards him to plant a kiss on forehead. You lightly chuckled as Jay's expression never faltered, and if it wasn’t enough for you, you shifted to grind on his dick instead, leaving him grunting and gasping for more. 

Your hands found its way to his cheeks, lightly cupping it as you placed soft kisses all over his face — except his lips. 

“You’re — a fucking m-menace,” Jay said between his groans, making you chuckle.

He’s right. You're a menace. Because as you grind your hips to find more pleasure, all you can think about is how fucked-out Jay was, and it’s because of you. God knows what will happen if Yoomi finds out about this. 

And that’s what you wanted to happen. To show to Yoomi that you had Jay under you, writhing and gasping submissively as you continue to abuse his dick. Sex has always been an intimate moment for you, but now, all you can think about is how good your ex-best friend’s first love’s cock is. Have you known that his dick was this good, you would have agreed the first time he asked you out. 

You started bouncing once again, making Jay roll his head deep on the pillows. A loud moan leaves his lips which make you smile beneath him. That’s when you started attacking his neck, licking and biting on every spot your tongue latches to. 

But it didn’t take long for the pleasure to reach you. You let out a choked moan as you can feel your walls tightening. The feeling of your stomach coiling as your second orgasm is coming, your pace becomes sloppy but you continue to bounce on his dick, trying to chase your orgasm before your stamina fails you. 

“Need some help, pretty girl?” Jay asked, now both of his hands are on your waist as he continuously bucked his hips upwards.

But that only fueled your pride, you rested your hands on his chest, pushing him down further the mattress as you rode his cock faster. The room becomes more hot, only your soft moans and bodies slapping onto each other can be heard.

Jay continued to thrust upwards, his hands tightening as he can feel his dick twitching inside you — indicating that he’s near too. 

“So c-close, baby —” Jay chokes, eyes shut down but he never stops thrusting inside you. 

“M-me too,” you barely said. Your legs are about to give up, but Jay’s thrust had you put his dick in the perfect angle — just right on your spot. 

And as he abused your insides, you let out a choked moan, grasping on Jay’s stomach for support. 

“Jay —”

“I got you pretty girl,” Jay’s thrust became harsher, faster than before. 

Your second orgasm came inside you like a wave. You can feel your legs twitching as Jay fucked you through it. Your pussy tightening around his dick, sucking it so harshly that his thrust became sloppy. 

“T-too much —” you whispered, falling on his chest as tears started to fall. Your second orgasm hasn’t come down but Jay continued to thrust his dick inside you. 

“Hold it in pretty girl won’t you?” Jay mumbled, kissing you as he continued to thrust inside you.

Jay’s breathing becomes unstable as he continues to pound inside you. You could only hold on his shoulder as you cry through the overstimulation. Everything about you felt more sensitive, especially when Jay’s dick continued to hit your spot. 

And with one harsh thrust, Jay came inside you. You let out a moan as you feel his seeds spilling inside you. Jay sloppily thrusts inside, chasing after his orgasm as he paints your walls white.

The room became silent. Only harsh breathing can be heard. That’s when you felt Jay kissing your head as he lightly brushes your hair. His hands never left your waist but instead, he wraps his arms around your waist as he pulls you even more closer — not minding that you two are sticky and sweaty. 

You two remained in that position, he’s still inside you and you snuggly let it be. Feeling his warm cock inside you made you feel full and maybe — you’re just too tired to care about anything.

“We should clean up,” Jay was the first to break the silence. You lifted your head and glanced at him amusingly. Jay only smiles as he kisses your lips. 

“But I’m comfortable here,” you pouted. 

“As much as I am too, we need to clean you up especially that I came inside you,” he explained. 

“I’m on a pill Jay, don’t worry,” you mumbled. 

“Just stay here pretty girl,” he places you down on the bed, pulling out from you which makes you whimper from the loss.

Jay lightly chuckles as he leaves you alone to go to his bathroom.

As you lay on his bed, you couldn’t help but to think about what just happened. Your eyes never left the ceiling as the silence devoured you. 

You suddenly felt dirty, and it’s not because you can Jay’s cum spilling out of you. It disgusted you that you had sex with someone, and while you were comfortable with Jay, it just sank into your mind that you. Just. Had. Sex. — something that you had been avoiding ever since your breakup. 

You know that you weren’t ready, some wounds about intimacy still lingers inside you. But you did it, and you did it out of spite and pettiness. Which is far from the sex that you always yearn for. 

You pulled yourself up, sitting on the bed as your hands trailed on your naked body. Feeling every inch that Jay saw underneath his dim room. You were shaken by the thought that you didn’t notice that Jay had returned. 

Jay turns on the lampshade, but it was enough for him to see the panicked expression of yours. Hurriedly, he approaches you, sinking on the bed as he stares at you. 

“You’re crying,” Jay tried to swipe off the tears but you flinched, making him withdraw. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, feeling like an idiot as you aggressively wiped the tears aways. “I didn’t — I don’t know what got in me.” 

“Did I hurt you? Oh my god, I’m sorry if I was being too rough —”

“No! No you didn’t,” you assured, grabbing his hands and squeezing it lightly. You let out a deep sigh before giving him a smile. “You were gentle to me Jay. it’s just — It’s just I had a hard time accepting intimacy from others and I was just shocked that we had sex.” 

“Is it because of your ex?” he asked softly. 

You only nod, “yeah, I just lost trust in romance and intimacy but here I am.” 

Jay became quiet for a minute. Heart beating with guilt as he looks at you with a worried expression. You only chuckle lightly as you squeezed his hands again. 

“I enjoyed the sex Jay, I was just overwhelmed suddenly,” you assured once again. “If it makes you feel better, because of you, I am slowly starting to trust romance once again.” 

“I’m glad that I can make you feel safe again,” Jay said with a genuine tone. He leans to give you a quick kiss on your lips. “Come on now, let me take care of you.”

After cleaning your body and changing into some new clothes, you and Jay snuggled underneath the new sheets he put on. His arms wrapped around your body while you lean against his chest.

You two remained in that position. You can feel nothing but his heart beating at a rapid speed, making you smile a bit. Jay’s hands brushing your hair as if he was lulling you to sleep. 

“Y/n,” he called out, you only hummed in response. 

“I like you…like genuinely,” he mumbled, pulling you closer to his touch. “I just want to say that because I’m afraid that you think that I took you out on multiple dates just to have sex with you.” 

You didn’t say a word, you remained frozen as Jay continued brushing your hair. 

“I didn’t even plan this, I just want to cook you dinner,” Jay lightly chuckles. “You don’t have to say anything though. I know that you’re not ready for a serious relationship, but I’m content with what we have.” 

And with that, Jay kisses the top of your head.

“Goodnight y/n.”

The room became silent. You had assumed Jay had drifted to sleep while you remained there, eyes wide with heart beating at an abnormal pace. Jay’s words had pierced through your heart and it left you confused, wondering where your stand is now. 

It was clear that you still have issues about your past. But with how quick you were to open to Jay, you’re now thinking if some of your actions were genuine and not just because you did it out of spite and revenge. 

But you weren’t able to draw your conclusion that night. Minutes into your pondering, your eyes became heavy — drifting you to sleep. 

-

Your relationship with Jay has become a newsworthy gossip that students can talk about aside from their studies. So what happens when the two of you attend the Decelis a few days later with hickeys and bite marks all over your necks? It added fuel to the fire of course.

“I thought it’s not obvious, I worked hard to cover it this morning,” you complained. 

“It’s a bit visible but what surprised you is Jay, he is wearing it like a badge of honor,” Yunjin shared and you could only let out a sigh. 

You should be proud about it. You shouldn’t have covered it with makeup because you wanted to show Yoomi that you had sex with Jay. Jay’s shameless about sleeping with you, and you should be happy because it’ll just irritate Yoomi more, but you only felt nothing but a gut-wrenching feeling about it.

Perhaps Jay’s words still linger in your mind. The next morning, Jay acted like nothing happened, he even cooked you breakfast. Of course, there were subtle changes like the way Jay became more affectionate to you but it just drags you even more. 

How long can you stretch this plan of yours? Jay was serious about you, while you…you don’t even know where your stand is. You could only mindlessly brush your hair in front to hide your marks before exiting the girls’ restroom. 

As you enter your classroom, you can feel the stabbing glares from your former friends. You ignored the way they gave you a disgusted look as you sat on the last row along with Yunjin. 

Yoomi then enters the classroom, her feet stomping heavily like she wanted to have her presence known. You only lowered your head as you opened your Ipad to check any missed readings for today’s course.

You didn’t need to lift your head to know that you’re being talked to by Yoomi, the whispers were loud enough and you could hear the snarky remarks from them. Followed by a few laughter and comments of how ‘shameless’ you are to show up in class with indecent marks on your neck. 

It’s as if Yoomi didn’t do that too many times to count. But of course, that’ll never cross their mind.

Soon, the professor entered the classroom and the class fell into silence. You focused your attention on your professor’s lecture, tapping lightly on your apple pen to focus. 

All you want to do after is to rest and sleep even though it’s only a Tuesday. You feel your body weary and tired. All the energy from dating Jay had already drained out from you and you’re thinking of maybe ditching him just for a week.

You were walking like a zombie as you exited the building when Yunjin suddenly grabbed your arms harshly. 

“What ��” you weren’t able to ask when your eye caught the scene. 

Yoomi’s talking to Jay. She’s saying something that you knew isn’t pleasant because of the way Jay’s eyebrows furrowed. 

“Should you —” Yunjin wasn’t able to finish her sentence when you snapped your arms from her touch and approached the two. 

“Jay,” you called out, catching the attention of the two. 

“Oh there she is,” Yoomi said with a mocking tone. “I was just telling Jay about the truth.”

You furrowed your forehead. “What are you talking about?”

“That you’re dating him just to get back to me,” Yoomi said with full confidence. 

You laughed in disbelief, trying to cover your nervous heart as you watched Yoomi’s face turn confused. 

“Why would I even do that? Come on Yoomi, we’re in college, not in high school. Things like that are so immature,” you smoothly said, even shrugging to make yourself more convincing. 

“You know I like Jay! What else would you date him huh!?” Yoomi said frustratedly. You didn’t expect her to immediately be frustrated about it.

“To meet new people?” you stated with obvious. “You think I’ll just let myself be depressed after my breakup? We’re just casually seeing each other, nothing more.” 

“You think I’m stupid!? Everyone knows that you’re not even ready for a relationship, so why are you suddenly seeing Jay —”

“Just stop please,” Jay rebutted, making you glance at him. 

“I know you Yoomi, just stop with the nonsense, okay? I like y/n, and there’s nothing you can do about it,” Jay explained.

You can see the way Yoomi’s smile dropped. The way Jay talked to her like she’s a lost puppy being chased away. You wanted to smile, maybe smirked at her just to get back to her but you composed yourself instead.

Jay grabs your hand and the two of you leave the scene. You turned around and eyed Yunjin who only gave you a thumbs up.

While Yoomi? She stood there shocked. 

You two reached his car. As you two went inside the vehicle that’s when your heart started to beat nervously. Jay was utterly quiet and his serious expression still hasn’t melted. You gave him a glance before you looked down.

Jay quietly turns on the engine of the car. Not one of you had spoken, and the car had been in utter silence throughout the whole drive. You didn’t notice that you reached your apartment until Jay parked the car in front of it, you remained seated in the passenger seat, waiting for his next move.  

“Tell me that it wasn’t true,” Jay spoke, breaking the ice. 

“Why didn’t you ask me that earlier?” you asked instead. 

“I don’t want to give Yoomi the satisfaction that she won,” Jay clicks his tongue. “I know that you hate her so much and maybe, what she’s saying is true.” 

You could only glance at the window. Not now. You always thought that your plan would be foolproof. Everything is so casual that Jay wouldn’t suspect a thing. That the truth won’t come out and you’ll bring it to your grave. 

Yoomi really has to ruin everything. And you don’t have the heart to lie to Jay too.

“It's true,” you confessed, sinking deeper into the leather seats. 

You can see the way Jay’s jaw slacked. His hands on the wheels tightened. “So when I approached you at the bar —”

“I recognized you, you were Yoomi’s first love, and I don’t know why I let my pettiness decide that maybe, it’s not a bad idea to date you just to shove Yoomi that she can’t have you.”

“So you use me?” Jay pointed out

“Not really,” you mumbled. “Jake told me —”

“Jake knows!?”

“And he told me to not hurt you!” you shouted. “Because you’re Jake’s friend and I don’t want to hurt you! Yes, I always thought that this was a bad idea but I just can’t sit all day seeing Yoomi happy with Yeonjun while I suffer even though they’re the ones who hurt me! That’s why I dated you because you approached me first which is something that Yoomi never experienced!”

You were catching your breath as you shut your eyes down, preventing the tears from falling down. You can feel your hands becoming cold, heart beating in a rapid manner that you don’t know if it’s the nervous breakdown or just you processing your word vomit. 

“So none of what we had was true?” you froze for a moment. Opening your eyes to look at Jay who’s staring at you. You became locked in his deep gaze as his question kept replaying in your mind — it was something that you’ve been pondering ever since you had your date with Jay. 

Were you mixing your emotions with your intention? Has there been any moment where you’re with Jay that felt real and you didn’t have Yoomi on your mind? As you kept on staring at Jay you only felt nothing but guilt for hurting him. 

“I don’t know,” you confessed. “I don’t know Jay, we were supposed to be casual.”

“So you never had feelings for me? What happened a few nights ago, it wasn’t real?” Jay asked once again, voice cracking at the end. 

“From the start Jay, you knew that I’m not ready for a serious relationship,” you pointed out, tone becoming serious.

“You didn’t answer my question y/n, do you even like me?” 

And you didn’t leave your gaze at him. His eyes were pleading, desperate to get an answer from you. You frustratedly brushed your hair, tugging it harshly to keep you sane. 

“I’m sorry Jay, I just don’t know what love feels like anymore,” you answered honestly. “How can you think about whether I like you or not, when I hurt you?” 

“I didn’t care about that, use me whatever you want, I don’t care anymore,” Jay breathes, his tone becoming more desperate. “I don’t want to lose you again.” 

You only shake your head in disagreement. “Jay, you’re just hurting yourself even more. You can’t love someone who’s still broken from her past relationship. See how much Yoomi hurted me? You don’t know how much I was praying for her downfall and when you walked into my life — you were the answer to my prayer.” 

“That doesn’t matter, I wanted to help you if it’ll make you happy. Just let me be there for you —”

“Jay,” you gave him a bitter smile. “You deserve a girl that’s full enough to reciprocate your feelings. I can’t give you that.”

“You’re pushing me away?”

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled. “The cat’s out of the bag isn’t it? There’s no reason for me to keep on seeing you.” 

“Please y/n —”

“I can’t continue doing this especially when you know the truth, it just hurts both of us.”

You didn’t let Jay say another word. You quickly opened the door of his car and ran towards your apartment. You didn’t even bother looking back at his car, you went straight towards the elevator, pressing the 3rd button rapidly.

As soon as you reached your apartment, door shutting down lightly, you removed your shoes and walked sheepishly towards the living room. It didn’t take you to reach the couch for you to break down. Knees weakening as you let the tears fall down. 

If everything was just for revenge, then why are you crying? If everything wasn’t real for you, then why does it hurt more than what Yoomi and Yeonjun did to you? You feel so tired and helpless as you sit on the ground, regretting everything that you have done. 

Maybe you shouldn't have interfered with karma and let them do their own things. Maybe if you weren’t so impatient, then you would’ve just waited for Yoomi’s downfall. Good things come to those who wait, right? The universe must really hate you so much that it backfired on you immediately. 

As those thoughts sinked in your mind, tears continued to fall. You were sobbing so hard that you didn’t hear the door opening. 

“Y/n!? We just saw Jay’s car leaving —”

Yunjin and Jake stopped when they saw you on the floor. You turned around to them and both felt deja vu. It’s the same look that you had when you caught Yoomi and Yeonjun. 

“I’m sorry Jake,” it was the first thing that you said. “I hurt Jay —”

Jake didn’t say a word. Instead, he walks towards you to pull you to a hug, making you sob harder as you can feel his hands patting your back. And as if it wasn’t enough, Yunjin approached you too and wrapped her arms around your back. Her head leaning against your shoulder as she brushes your hair to calm you down.

-

The following day, you show up to the class like it was a normal day. Thanking Yunjin’s makeup skills to help you conceal any fragments that show that you cried. The classroom was full already, the back row seat left unoccupied which you and Yunjin sat on.

“He won’t stop?” Yunjin whispered, eyeing your phone screen. There were no notifications, but your wallpaper of you standing in front of the jellyfish aquarium remained. That photo was taken by Jay. 

Jay hasn't stopped sending you a message since yesterday. He wanted to talk to you, maybe he was asking for closure or something but you had enough. — and yet, instead of blocking Jay’s number, you put your phone notifications on silent mode.

“He already did,” the last time Jay sent you a message was this morning. Saying he won’t bother you anymore because Jake told him so, but he’ll be waiting for your message. 

“You won’t talk to him anymore?” your friend asked. 

You only shake your head, “I can’t face him anymore.” 

Yunjin didn’t say a word, she simply nodded as she gave you an assuring pat on the back, making you chuckle. 

As the day continued, you couldn’t help but dart your eyes on Yoomi in the middle of the class. She's seated on the second row like the good student she was, jotting down notes on her notebook, even interrupting the professor’s lecture at any chance that she could to ask questions or give her insights. 

You always knew that her intentions of telling Jay was out of jealousy, but what did she gain from it? Did she want you to suffer more? There were multiple times that it crossed your mind why Yoomi did it to you. And this isn’t just about Jay, it’s also about Yeonjun. What does Yoomi even want from you? 

“So I was right? You did use Jay,” and maybe, your questions may be answered when Yoomi approaches you first. Not half of the class had left the room and she’s already cornering you. 

“You won’t leave me alone, won’t you?” you snarled, feeling irritated than ever. You didn’t mind that there were audiences that were watching, your old friends near the teacher’s table, waiting for Yoomi, while Yunjin stood beside you. 

“Just admit it y/n.” 

“Don’t push me Yoomi, you had the fucking audacity to approach and taunt me when you’ve done worst things to me,” you barked at her. 

“That’s why it makes sense that you used Jay, to get back to me right!? You knew from the start —”

“Yoomi, I’m telling you this now while I’m being rational, but I don’t give a fuck about you anymore from the moment I saw you at Yeonjun’s dorm, and you should stop giving a shit about me and my life. You have Yeonjun, right? And even if you two are not together, you will never have a chance with Jay.” 

“So, that makes you better than me? Because Jay likes you?” she scoffed, but you can hear in her tone that she was hurt. 

Your forehead creased, “this isn’t some competition Yoomi, you have everything, Yeonjun, our friends — and maybe wake up for once, the universe doesn’t revolve around you.” 

“You don’t understand y/n is that Jay is the only person that I had loved ever since junior high, do you know how much it hurts that no matter what I do, he just doesn’t look at me? And then you came along and suddenly he’s all over you. What did Yeonjun and Jay see in you? I don’t understand.” She vented out. 

Never would you think that Yoomi would be insecure about you. You always see yourself as a normal college girl. Decent looks, smart enough to get a decent average, and a bit introverted. There’s not much thrill in your life aside from partying on Friday night on rare occasions. You blend on the walls just like you want to. 

Yoomi is different. She’s everything. She’s pretty, always has the cutest aesthetic. Had an impressive track record of grades, and extra-curricular. She’s also an active student in Decelis, her organizations are too many to count, and everyone knows and likes her. 

Yoomi has the spotlight, then why on earth is she still after your shadow? Even after stealing everyone from you, it’s still not enough for her.

“That’s not my problem anymore Yoomi,” you told her, tone becoming colder. “It’s not my fault that not everyone find you lovable.” 

Yoomi gasped. Her eyes started to water. It shocked her when those words came out of your mouth. She has been used to praises, to people showering her with love. Yoomi thinks that she can still manipulate you, but that’s where her assumptions went wrong. Now, it was a wrong move to confront you — especially when your bottled-up hatred for her can burst out any minute. 

“That was harsh y/n,” she mumbled, trying to hold back her tears. 

“You shouldn’t have provoked me,” you angrily said. “You want me to admit it? Fine, I did date Jay for fun, and he was such a dream. The dates, his affection – god he was such a gentleman, and the sex? It was so fucking good, and he looks so fucking hot underneath me.”

Yoomi rendered speechless, mouth open as she was shaking due to shock while you only stared at her angrily. 

“And even after telling him the truth — everything, he still wants me. He still came back running after me. You think that telling him the truth yesterday will make him look at you? Congrats because he did, but that was because he was annoyed by you.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m done with him, maybe this time you can have him, since you like picking up the trash that I threw just like what you did with Yeonjun,” you gave Yoomi a smile. “Just remember this one, Yeonjun settled on you because you’re a naive girl who’ll throw herself at any guy that looks at her. You want to know our differences? I know my worth while you’re pathetic because you crave for any guy’s attention.” 

That’s when Yoomi burst into tears, loud and harsh that it made you scoff in disbelief. You only signaled Yunjin to leave, making her grab her bag as you and her watch your old friends circle around Yoomi, comforting her and shooting glares at you. You didn’t bother glancing at them as you and Yunjin walked out of the room.

Did it lift off a weight from your shoulder? No, you felt yourself more slumped than ever, thoughts were running through your mind as you exited the building. You glanced at Yunjin who placed her arms around your shoulder, shaking you lightly as you two began walking towards the university gate. 

“She’s such a drama queen,” Yunjin said with an annoyed tone. “But I didn’t expect you to be so harsh.”

“That’s light for me, I could’ve said worse,” you stated. Your attention shifted up to the sky to see that dark clouds had become to cover the blue sky. Your lips turn into a straight line as you think about how the sky is sharing its empathy with you. 

The weather in Decelis had become gloomy. The rainy season had started and the cold temperature seemed like a hug that you needed. 

Days after the confrontation, class has been suspended due to strong rainstorms. It was a perfect time for you to ponder about your senior year. Stuck inside your apartment flat with both your roommates, you found solace in the loud raindrops drizzling on the street.

You sat on the wooden chair, legs stretched on railings of the balcony. You were listening to some music on your phone with a half-lit stick of cigarette between your fingers. It was a rare case for you to smoke, only during your night outs wherein you need to sober up before going home. But in these moments, you feel like you need to take a few smokes to relieve your stress. 

“Hey,” you turned around immediately to hear a masculine voice. Seeing Jake in his hoodie and pajamas, his hair a mess and he’s not wearing his glasses. 

“Should I stop?” you asked, raising the stick, but your roommate only shook his head, sitting on the empty chair beside you and also raising his legs on the railings. 

“You seem to be lost in thoughts, like a poet stuck in a writer’s block,” Jake teases, making you laugh. 

“Wish that’s my problem,” you only let out a sigh before blowing a few puffs. 

“Why, still feel guilty about what happened?” he asked, and this time, you shake your head.

“I just wonder if Yoomi ever thought of me as a friend,” you confessed. “Or someone who she competes discreetly.” 

Jake didn’t say a word, he only stared at you as if he was waiting for more. 

“It’s not hard to wonder about it, after all, we were friends for two years and a half too. So I wonder, during those years, did she ever treat me as her friend?” 

“Well, do you regret your friendship with her?” Jake asked you. 

“It’s hard to think about it when all I can feel about her is hate,” you admitted. “Maybe my talk with her a few days just gave me a clarification that she was insecure about me, then it struck me if she ever treated me as a friend.”

“Well, friends don’t steal their friend’s boyfriend,” your roommate pointed out, making you glance at him. “That surely answers your question.” 

You didn’t say a thing. Jake’s right, that should’ve been the clue. And to think that Yoomi never brought up why you cut her off and all she can point out was that you dated Jay shows that she never valued your friendship — not even once. 

You flicked off the butt of the cigarette stick and placed it on the railings. You wanted to smoke another stick but you sat on the chair instead, deeply immersed with the rain. 

“You know, Jay is still waiting for you,” Jake opened up.

But he was only met with silence from you. 

“You know you can’t avoid everything right?” Jake pointed out. “You’re like this with Yoomi and Yeonjun, and while you had a valid reason to not confront them, Jay’s different, you left him alone in the dark.”

There it is. You hate that Jake was able to pick it up. You know that you became avoidant to people ever since you got betrayed. You kept your circle small, afraid that the more you let people in your life, the more chances they’ll hurt you.

When Yeonjun and Yoomi went behind your back, you didn’t bother asking for any explanation. Completely cutting the two off because you know that it’ll hurt more if you hear their side. And whatever shitty reason they can come up will deem useless. 

Jay on the other hand, entered your life because you wanted revenge. But before he could hurt you, you hurt him first — and for you that’s even worse. 

“Jake, I hurt Jay, I can’t even look him in the eyes without feeling any guilt,” you explained. 

“I talked to him a few days ago and he understands where you are coming from, he’s not mad y/n,” Jake added. 

“And is that supposed to make me feel okay?” you whispered. “I don’t know what to feel about everything.”

“It takes time,” your roommate pats your shoulder lightly, giving you a quick smile. “But just so you know, you don’t have to live in hatred forever, who knows, maybe you can learn to love again.”

That’s when you shifted your gaze at Jake, he only gave you a warm smile, making you chuckle bitterly. 

“You think so?”

“I just think that you’ve become happier when Jay was around,” Jake pointed out. “Yunjin can see it too, and you might not notice it because you’re too busy with your revenge, but something shifted when Jay entered your life.”

You were stunned, staring at Jake who shifted his gaze back to the pouring rain. Out of the three of you, Jake has always been the most rational one. He was like a brother to you, and while Yunjin was your chaotic other-half, Jake has always been there to watch over you two. 

“You think I deserve Jay?” you whispered, bare audible.

“I think you deserve someone who will love you so wholly that he’ll pick up every broken piece of you,” Jake replied. “And I know that Jay is that kind of guy.” 

-

Weeks passed and the passing hurt felt now like a blur to you. 

You busied yourself with your subjects, focusing on your academics and papers which was your coping mechanism back then. It was deja vu all over again but rather than letting yourself swallow in guilt, you focused your attention on something else. 

Midterm exams are done, and you managed to pass your requirements with ease despite the stress you’ve been through. Now, you feel like a normal student who’s worried about her academics again. 

The door of the classroom swung open, your professor entered it with a tense atmosphere following her. No greetings or bright smiles, making the room falter in silence. If it wasn’t enough, she slams her essay papers, loud enough to flinch the whole room. 

“I’m so disappointed,” she started. “Twenty-five years of teaching here in Decelis, never would’ve thought that you’ll do this in my course.”

The whole room falls under a few whispers and murmurs. You glanced at Yunjin who merely shrugged. 

“You know that plagiarism is a grave offense in our department? We pride ourselves in our students’ intelligence and perspective but here we are — and it’s not only a few paragraphs, but the whole paper. This is so disappointing,” she grabs the paper, a bit crumpled but you can see the huge ‘X’ mark on the paper. 

“Ms. Han Yoomi,” she declares, making you flinch. You glanced at Yunjin who’s eyes were about to pop out of its socket. Your friend grabs your friend, calming herself from doing something petty, while your mouth forms a small gap as you cover it with your hand. All you could feel was shock, heart thumping like a rabbit’s eager foot. 

“You’re one of our scholars right? Plus, you mentioned that you’re running for honors? This is so disappointing,” your professor shakes her head as she places Yoomi’s paper down. 

Yoomi stood up from her seat way too fast that the chair fell down, causing a loud thud that echoed through the room. But Yoomi couldn’t care less. “Ma’am, I can explain —”

“You can explain it to the Dean Ms. Han, you know the consequences of your action,” she cut off. “Please follow me, and the rest of you, please take your midterm papers and consider my comments for your revisions for the final paper.”

The whole room watched as your professor walked out of the door, while Yoomi stood there frozen. It took a little nudge from her friend for her to move, grabbing her bag as she walked out of the room with her head lay low. When both of them left the room, whispers began to swarm around the classroom, just like you, everyone was surprised that Yoomi would do such a thing. 

“Holy shit!” Yunjin whisper-shouted. “Holy fucking shit! I didn’t expect her to do that!”

“Fuck, what the actual fuck —” you let out a deep breathe, trying to calm yourself. “I can’t believe it, karma’s fucking real.” 

Yunjin only laughs, slapping your arms as you try to conceal your laughter. “No, because that was fucking dumb of her, I can’t believe that she would do that.”

“Right! She always pride herself in writing papers even though her writing fucking sucks, but she plagiarized!? That’s so fucking stupid of her.” 

You know that it was mean. Laughing at someone’s mistake that may cause her academic disruption, but after everything that happened to you? Yoomi will never have a chance to get past an offense that she stupidly did. 

Karma’s finally after her and you know the result of offense. If no appeal were done, she can get suspended and worst — be removed from receiving honors. All her pride and dreams came crashing down in just a glimpse. And the good thing about it was that it’s all her fault. You didn’t have to raise a finger for it to happen. 

You didn’t have to do anything. It slowly sinked in your mind that karma will eventually get back to her. It slumped you that if you had the patience to wait, you didn’t have to involve an innocent person in making your ex-best friend miserable. 

You should be happy that karma got Yoomi, but it was only a passing adrenaline of satisfaction that Yoomi’s idiocracy got back at her. If this is what you’ve been praying for, why does the guilt remain on you?

It’s been weeks and yet, he’s still on your mind. You wonder, is he waiting for you? You hate confrontations. You were never good with words and dealing with people, but you couldn’t help to think about Jay and how you left him in the dark. You know what you have to do. 

You found yourself in front of his apartment door. Hands shaking and heart beating at an abnormal pace. Jay had agreed to talk to you, and that means there’s no turning back now. You pressed the doorbell and after a few rings, the door swung open. 

You stood there frozen, seeing Jay in a large t-shirt and sweatpants, hair disheveled like he just woke up. Your words got stuck on your throat, an awkward atmosphere hovering between the two of you. 

“I —”

“Come in,” he said with a soft tone which made your heart skip a beat. Your foot moved on its own and entered his apartment, removing your shoes as you Jay waited for you. 

“So,” Jay started as soon as you two reached the living room, clearing his throat. “What is it that you want to talk about?”

You only fiddled with your fingers, looking down because you can’t even face Jay. “Yoomi, got suspended today for plagiarising her midterm paper.” 

“What?” Jay asked, disbelief. 

“She got a two week suspension and got stripped off from her scholarship,” you added. “I should be happy because karma finally got her, but somehow it didn’t feel like I won.”

That’s when you look at Jay, confused yet waiting for you to say another word.

“Because I hurt you Jay. I was so impatient for Yoomi’s downfall that I resorted to using you. I dated you because I was petty because you’re a big part in Yoomi’s life but she can’t have you — but I can.” your hands become shaky, you are harsh with your fingers as you find yourself catching for breath. 

“And I’m sorry because you were so genuine about dating me, even when I told you that I wasn’t ready for a serious relationship, you understood where I am coming from but all I did was hurt you,” you took a deep breath. 

“y/n,” Jay called out but you chose to ignore it. Glancing at him as your eyes started to water. 

“And I understand if you’re mad at me, and I’m sorry if I ran away — I always ran away from everything, even from Yeonjun and Yoomi, I didn’t bother asking for their explanation but you…you deserve it Jay.”

That’s when Jay approached you, pulling you to a hug that only made you cry. You punched his chest, trying to push him away but he only tightened his hold on you. 

“You should be angry but why aren’t you? Why!?” You managed to stitch some words, and instead of answering you, Jay brokes out from the hug, caressing your cheeks as he looked at you fondly.

“I’ve known you for so long,” Jay confessed. “You’re always been with Yoomi. I know Yoomi, we’re from the same town but…she’s just not my type.” 

You only stared at Jay, eyes widened.

“You know me?” you asked, shocked. 

Jay only laughs, “face? Yeah I know you, but name and other things? Not really. But it’s not hard to remember the girl who looks like she doesn't want to be there whenever she attends our gig.”

The comment made you stifle a laugh, making Jay smile. “I found you cute and pretty, and although it hurts that you’re always on your phone during our gig, I still find myself looking at you. You completely contrast’s Yoomi’s loud cheer, that’s why I was drawn to you.”

“I wonder, “when will she be able to look at us?” then I discovered that you had a boyfriend, and not gonna lie it crushed my heart.” Jay jokingly said. “Then you stopped showing up to our gigs, and Yoomi was with another friend. I thought, maybe you were spending your time with your boyfriend, and maybe I should stop this silly crush of mine.” 

You became quiet. Thoughts became afloat. It all makes sense now. From the start, Yoomi never really had the chance with Jay. All the times she told you that Jay kept on glancing at her was just her assumption — Jay has been looking at you all along. 

His words, you recall the way Jay told you that he doesn’t want to lose you again. You thought that your first meeting was at the bar but no, he has been looking for you for years now. 

“So, when you approached me at the bar —”

“It was like fate telling me that, “there she is, this is your chance!” And I didn’t want to waste it.” 

“But I hurt you Jay,” you pointed out. 

But Jay merely shrugs. “No, from the start, you made it clear to me that you didn’t want a serious relationship, I respected that and I was happy with what we had. I was happy just being on your side.” 

Tears started to fall from your eyes again, you couldn’t help but to cry making Jay pull you to his arms again, wrapping you gently as he pats your head.

It couldn’t sink in your mind that aside from your roommates, there is someone who is willing to be by your side despite all you’ve been through. You always thought that you’re undeserving of finding other people to love you, but it just went to your mind that meeting Jay wasn’t a way for you to get back to your ex-best friend — it was a way for you to find another person who will love you again. 

“I hate you, you were supposed to hate me for what I did,” you said between your cries. 

“How can I? Your reason is valid though, and if you told me from the start, I would’ve done worse, maybe kiss you in front of Yoomi just to spite her.” Jay joked, which led you to jabbing his chest, he lightly scowled as you glared at him. 

“I’m serious,” you told him. 

“And I’m also serious,” Jay lightly cups your cheeks, swiping any teardrop from your eyes. “And I’m not saying this because I like you, but because it’s just some petty revenge right? It’s not like you’re planning their murder.” 

“I could if murder was legal,” you spat. “Would you still join me?”

And instead of saying anything, Jay kisses the tip of your nose, “anything for my pretty girl.”

“I couldn’t believe you,” you mumbled. “After everything, you’re still here for me.”

“How can I? I’ll be with you at any chance fate will give me.”

“Oh, suddenly you’re spiritual enough to believe in fate?” 

“You taught me how to.”

Silence swallowed you two. You only stared at Jay who’s gazing at you fondly. Then he smiles, grazing your cheeks with his thumb.

“I love you.” Jay confessed. 

Your eyes widen by his words, staring at him speechless as he never left his gaze at you. 

“I love you so much that it didn’t hurt me that you used me, it hurt me that you had to resort to that plan because you were hurting so much.” Jay explained. “And if you give me a chance, I’ll show to you that you can still be loved, and I don’t care if you’re still broken by your past, I’ll help you gain your trust to love again.” 

You only let out a sigh, glancing at Jay who’s eagerly waiting for your answer. That’s when you lean against his cheeks, smiling as you start, “thank you Jay, for showing me that I can still be loved.” 

“Maybe meeting you wasn’t a way for karma to tell me to get back to Yoomi, but it was fate’s way to tell me that I can still learn to love someone. And while I was stupid to be focused too much on my anger, I forgot that I should’ve used my energy reciprocating your feelings to me.”

“And we can take it slow, I’m in no rush —”

“No Jay, I was just too stupid to realise that I’d fallen for you, that there were moments that felt genuine for me, and I want us to be more real, without thinking about Yoomi or getting back to her.” 

You saw how Jay slowly sank-in what you just said, eyes widening as his hold to your face tightens. 

“Are you serious?” he breathes. 

You only nod as a response, letting out a soft laughter as Jay’s expression brightens more. He could only let out a raspy gasp, words stuck on his throat as he pulled you closer for a hug. 

“I can’t believe — fuck, I'm just happy – god, I can’t believe this,” he said, choking in his own words.

“I’m sorry if it took me long.” 

“You’re worth the wait,” Jay whispered. ,

Breaking from the hug, Jay found himself staring at you. You only let out a small chuckle as you found yourself staring at Jay’s eyes. He lightly brushes your hair before planting a kiss on top of your head, then sealing your lips with lips — an action that tugs your heart with ease. You could only kiss him back, finding yourself smiling between it. 

Because the first time ever since you got your heart broken, you found yourself genuinely happy. 

-

Epilogue. 

“Congratulations to us!” Yunjin hugs you tightly, making you chuckle as you hold onto your graduation cap tightly. 

Senior year passed by with ease. You found yourself juggling your thesis papers and internships along with course subjects. There were gray days and you lost count of the breakdowns that you had throughout the year, but here you are, officially graduating with honors.

“Congrats love,” Jay said, handing you a bouquet of lilies which made you smile. 

“Thank you love,” you said before planting a kiss on him.

Your relationship with Jay was a second chance for you. Although you two still kept it unlabeled in the first few months because there were parts of you that were still struggling to open up to him, Jay was ever patient with you. 

But now, you two became official, and you look forward to what waits for you two outside college.

“Congrats to you two, I know you two can make it,” Jake said, handing you two bouquets of flowers which made Yunjin fake cry. 

“I can’t believe that we’re no longer roommates! I’ll miss annoying you two,” Yunjin said between her fake sobs, slinging her arms to you and Jake and pulling you two for a hug.

“You’re so dramatic,” you said, but your smile widened as you hugged Yunjin back, which Jake did the same. 

“But before that, I have something to spill!” Yunjin excitedly said, breaking out from the hug. 

“Do you guys know why Yoomi isn’t here?” she asked, and you only shrugged. 

Now that you think of it, throughout your senior year, Yoomi still managed to get through her academics but there is wariness around her now because of her case. She didn’t bother you anymore either. Senior year became a peaceful year for you. 

“Just tell us already,” Jake impatiently said, making Yunjin let out an evil chuckle, which meant that her story is diabolical. 

“Apparently, she wasn’t able to graduate because the academic coordinators had learned that she slept with our Dean.”

“What the fuck —”

“Are you serious!?” you shouted, “no fucking way, where did you learn that?”

“Her ‘friends’ of course,” Yunjin smirked. “Apparently, that’s the reason why she was able to maintain her scholarship. They only investigated it during graduation season and had confirmed it a few days ago.”

“So, she wasn’t able to graduate?” Jake asked. 

“And she’s expelled from Decelis, she can’t continue her studies here,” Yunjin added. 

“Now that’s much worse,” Jay added, but a soft chuckle escaped his lips. 

“And she fucking deserve it,” you mumble. “She finally got her karma.”

“Guess the universe has answered your prayers.”

You only stared at Jay, a soft smile curving on his lips, which made you smile wider. “I guess they did.” 

Everything now felt light. The thorn in your heart was gone. You finally graduated with honors, your roommates are there for you, and your ex-best friend got what she deserves. 

“Hey,” you called out Jay, shifting his attention to you. His right arm instinctively wraps around your waist. 

“Do you need anything?” he asked, and you only shook your head.

“I love you,” you said.

Jay scoffs in disbelief, but the smile on his lips becomes wide as he leans into you for a kiss. “I love you too.” 

Of course, you had Jay by your side. You may have been praying for karma but it was fate who heard your prayers. Despite the mishaps you’ve faced, you were still thankful because you still found someone who will love you wholly.

[tbaluver]

AH-AH-APHRODISIAC?!- The Love And DeepSpace Men

pairings in order: xavier x fem! reader, zayne x fem! reader, rafayel x fem! reader, sylus x fem! reader, caleb x fem! reader summary: you and your lover accidentally eat chocolates with aphrodisiacs on valentine's day night tags: small plot, p in v , desperate hot n needy a/n: hihi my lovelies! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂)⸝♡ here are my (late) chocolate gift to you for valentine's day! this one is a lil rushed bc i wanted to have a fluff and a smut written for this holiday so apologies! thank you to my beta reader @ilovemitsuya mwah ily (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ anyways i hope you all enjoy reading ! (∩˃o˂∩)♡ cr. to the banners cafekitsune ! any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

He closes his eyes, parting his lips slightly as you gently place the chocolate in his mouth, watching him savor the taste as he guesses what flavor the luxury Valentine’s chocolate box. With each correct guess, a kiss is exchanged but whoever gets it wrong has to eat another chocolate that they didn’t like. As the game progresses, each sweet kiss becomes more lingering and more urgent. The box sat untouched and the game remained forgotten as you both have something better to eat in mind.

-

It’s hard to think about how much exactly chocolates you and Xavier ate when you he’s fucking into your swollen pussy. He groans, spreading your legs to expose your wet cunt, your inner thighs coated with his cum. Your clit glistening in the moonlight as he circles it softly with the sensitive head of his cock, dragging it up and down. It hasn’t even been a minute until your bodies are set ablaze again, growing intense with every passing second you two aren’t connected. You both were so needy for each other, your senses completely heightened than any time you two were intimate. His hot girthy dick stretches you out so deliciously that it's gonna leave an imprint on your stomach. 

Both your bodies are on fire as he desperately thrusts in and out of you as hard and fast as he can, tangled limbs just holding on to whatever you can hold as long as you’re touching each other.

His cock, pistons in and out of your weeping cunt at a relentless pace, both your visions fogging up with no thoughts other than relieving each other. A chorus of obscene noises spill out of both of you, all of it incoherent. Remnants of his cum seeps out of you due to the pacing of his thrusts, your cunt mercilessly filled.

You’re clamping down on his cock with so much desperation as you feel your orgasm approaching. They way you’re creaming on his cock, clenching around him with trembling legs, was sight only he can see and hear. He planned to make you see the stars but he saw them shining in your eyes instead, the tears welling up your eyes as he sets the animalistic pace over and over again until the burning heat dies down between you both.

Zayne:

Valentine's day, the day where you exchange and share one or two or maybe the whole box of chocolates together. You and Zayne swapped a few sweets and chocolate gifts but on your end, you ended up letting him indulge in his sweet tooth, giving him more than just a couple boxes. Neither of you gave much thought to the luxury box cover when you picked it up. One by one, each chocolate disappears from the box as you pick one up, taking a bite as you pass him the other half as he does the same for you.  It didn’t long for the sweetness of the chocolate to go away, the heat in each other’s bodies growing every second as you both craved for something much more sweeter, abandoning the box of chocolates.

-

Clearly one or five more rounds wasn’t enough for this burning ache to go away. Minutes turned into hours as he poured his cum into you, dripping down to his balls and down to your thighs. No amount of position could put an end to the heat that seemed to crawl deeper into your core every second he pulled away from you. Your body temperatures together were so high it turned you two into a muddled mess. How could he possibly ignore his lover sobbing for him, begging for more, when he needed you just as much as you needed him?

He hovers over you, trying his best not to crush you in his hold. The once composed and restrained doctor has vanished tonight, both your senses completely heightened as he desperately explores the familiar path of your body. 

His delicate, practiced and precise hands from years of surgery, rip and tug at your clothing, the urgency from the heat building in him. Each one of Zayne’s and your clothing were carelessly thrown across the house, leaving a messy trail to your shared bedroom. Marks and scratches cover his body as you try to reach for more, as if the hold you had on him wasn’t enough.

Your lips constantly chase after each other, pulling away just to catch your breaths. He rolls his hips against yours, the room filled with the sounds of your combined moans and the rhythm of your entangled bodies. His cock makes you spill sounds that you didn’t even know could come out of your mouth. Chest pressed against each other, everything had your head spinning, both of you full of primal need. His cock strokes all the right places inside you, his heavy balls smacking wetly against your cunt with every deep thrust he gives you. His thick pink sensitive head of his cock rubs your sweet spot so perfectly, sending waves of pleasure over your body. Hours and hours with no other thoughts than anything other than making you feel good and making that heat go away was his only priority.

Rafayel:

He bought you the most expensive box of chocolates, not looking at the brand or the printing on the packages but because he saw it was filled with pictures of assortment of sweets you’d love. He thought they were overpriced because of the luxury design and the fact that it was for Valentine’s day but with each bite, he found himself caving in for more. You both felt so warm, the warmth surging through your bodies that traveled down to your lower half. The more you both indulged, the more you both seemed to need something that was a much more sweet temptation.

-

You both were so hot, more than you two have ever been that the heat was enough to stop the cold weather from making you shiver. His eyes clenched shut as hot pants slip past his pretty lips, his mind fogging up as he feels your warm cunt wrap around him so perfectly, like always. 

The only thing in his mind is you, your sweet cunt squeezing his cock like heaven sent and how you roll your hips against him oh so right. 

He thinks you’re truly a work of art, filled with marks of him. You look so perfect whether it’s in front of him or behind him, painting such a pretty picture with your face in all the right angles as your face contorted in absolute pleasure.

You both roll and shift on the blanket, finding the perfect position that hits the right angles to relieve the throbbing heat between your legs. Everytime you take his buckets of his white warm seed, the burning ache always seems to come back. There is not a single part of your body that isn’t drenched from your mixed sweat, arousal or his cum.

Did someone bewitch you two? Did they think- Nevermind, he can’t think properly when you’re clenching down on him like this. He feels the way you flutter around him. Every squeeze of your cunt as he drags his cock along your walls, every drip of your arousal that coats his length, is as if he was truly part of you. 

His skin tingles irritably, aching desperately for your touch even after a second without it. Even the small sounds that escape past your lips lure him in like a sailor listening to a siren's song.  His thrusts grow faster, his hips slamming over and over again against yours as if his life duty was to repopulate Lemuria.

Sylus:

The night grew uncomfortably hot for you two, the ache between your legs was relentless and impossible to ignore. The cold breeze from the new city you two traveled too for a small getaway was not helping at all. You two didn’t drink much but the chocolates you were both gifted, disappeared between you both. Each bite melted in your mouths but soon the warmth settled over you both. The anticipation back to the suite was palpable, both of you greeted by a romantic rose trail scattered across the floor that led to a heart-shaped arrangement on the shared bed. As much as you wanted to appreciate this, you both seek- craved a remedy only you two could provide each other.

-

It didn’t take that long for that rose petal trail to be forgotten, scattered and kicked aside as you both stumble towards the bed, your lips hungrily chase after each other. Needy hands rip each other’s clothes off while your blazing bodies smash against each other, the rose petals jump off the bed once it feels the weight shift of you two fall onto it. He groans into your lips, pulling away to leave a wet trail down your neck, collecting the expensive perfume he’s gotten you on his tongue.

Sylus loves to take it slow with you, his favorite thing to do is explore your body as if he hasn’t before. But tonight, tonight his movements are rushed, desperate to see you, to feel you. Pure love still in his eyes, needy hands never really able to linger on spot for too long. No other thoughts but just you and how his body craves more and more.

The tip of his cock pushes his hot sticky mess back into your sopping cunt, groans escaping past his lips. Your walls were so sweet, so velvety, so intoxicating that the thought of those chocolates has given him an addiction from how much he can’t seem to pull away from you, brushes away from his mind.. How overpowering his deep thrusts would be, not caring at all if this bed broke or how the building shook.

His thick cock engulfed into the warmth of your clenching walls, his large hands intertwined with yours as he swallows all the sweet and pretty sounds that escape past your lips with the shove of his tongue, taking him deeper than you possibly could. His balls ram into your remorselessly, placing hot wet kisses down your neck. Your words are jumbled due to his cock pumping and out of you relentlessly from your heat as if it were to split you in half.

Your orgasm hits you hard, his following right after. His face contorts into pure pleasure, one of the best images to grace your eyes and ears as you breathlessly chant his name. While you take your time catching your breath, he’d let his fingertips graze your arm, hand cupping the side of your face while his thumb rubs along your cheek, feeling his dick twitch inside you again.

Caleb:

Dinner was going by smoothly, key word was, until something shifted in both your bodies. The special Valentine’s Day meal he prepared for you was devoured, your bright smile whenever you bit into the food was proof enough that each bite hit the spot. Until you both got to the desert, the chocolate covered strawberries recipe he found online he rushed while prepping dinner. A few bites in, the room seemed to grow hotter, your appetites shifting and craved something much more enticing.

-

He’s already a whimpering mess once you pull away from his lips, feeling like the distance between you two were a million miles apart. The touch of your needy hands to try and rip his clothes off was painfully slow. He needed more and he knew you did too. 

What was in that recipe? How much did he eat? His dick is so hard he thinks it might just explode before he even has a chance to feel your soaked walls. His desperation was so palpable that his needy whines ring in your ear as he slips it in, ripping off your panties beforehand while babbling ‘sorry sorry need you please please’ and that he’ll promise to get you new ones next time. You barely catch any of his words, your mind fogging with each drag of his cock against your sweet spot. Breathless praises for you slip past his lips, fanning your ear with his warm breath, making your velvety walls flutter and tighten around him in response.

His hips increase in speed and power, his name breathlessly escaping your lips as he knocks the air out of your lungs. His cock rubbed your walls so deliciously, making you forget the heat for a second, just for a second.

Spurts of his hot white cum into your body was not enough to please the ache in your bodies. Caleb only whines your name, pounding into your poor pussy with a merciless pace. He feels so guilty knowing he takes his time, he always takes his time with you but he’s chasing a high so desperately that his body is on autopilot, moaning pathetically into your ears. The sounds of wet skin and skin fill the kitchen for hours and hours, the special dinner he planned in mind growing cold but the one he held in his embrace growing hotter by the minute.

a/n extra: hihi again! here is my fluff valentines day headcanons and kinda where the scene in the story takes place: Valentine's Day

my past works: masterlist pg. 1 , pg. 2

[vintagebuckybarnes]

In Vino Veritas

Pairing → Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Lab Assistant! Female! Reader

Total Wordcount → 3.5K

Summary → It all started when you and the Avengers enjoyed drinks during the afterparty back at the Avengers Tower. There, Tony revealed one of your deepest secrets, and even though you wish it had never come to light at first, you’re glad it did when the man you love stands on your doorstep, ready to start the rest of your life together.

Tags & Warnings → Semi-canon compliant, Avenger! Bucky Barnes, Female! Reader, Tony’s Lab Assistant! Reader, Bucky’s past as TWS is mentioned, emotional hurt/comfort, mutual pining, some cursing, and explicit sexual content.

Tags: Smut → Grinding, begging, some dirty talk, praise, teasing Bucky, protected sex, cowgirl position.

Story Rating → Explicit

Author’s Note → This story is beta'd by the wonderful @late-to-the-party-81, and I cannot thank you enough for that. I hope you'll all enjoy my story, which is filled with some angst, lots of fluff, and some smut to top it all off! 💜

Writing Prompts @fandom-free-bingo Bug Edition → “There is no us.” | Riding | In vino veritas | “Touch me.” @fandom-free-bingo Medical Edition → Crush at first sight @julybreakbingo Post-JBB → Being confronted about their feelings for another

Tags List → If you’d like to be tagged in my stories, you can add yourself to my tag list here.

The evening starts fine, good, even. But it all takes an unexpected turn when the man you work for - Tony Stark - reveals your secret. A secret that you’d only recently revealed to him.

Earlier that day, you’d spotted Bucky as he was working out and from that moment on your mind has been with him instead of your usual work and tasks.

“Hello, Y/N? Anyone home in there?” Tony asks as he lays a hand on your shoulder, making you jump. You look up at him with a worried look while he smiles back at you with a kind expression. A soft sigh escapes your lips as the thoughts in your head wander off again, specifically how his back looked underneath the tank top he wore in the gym while doing squats. Not only that, but you also can’t stop thinking about the way his ass looked in the sweatpants he wore. In a word, magnificent.

“Is everything okay with you? You’ve been a bit off your game today.” As Tony sits next to you, you put down the screwdriver you were holding - the one he asked you three times to pass to him - before turning to face him, your gaze focusing somewhere on the wall behind him. For a moment, there’s a silence between you as you gather the courage to tell him what’s been on your mind.

“Well, uhm- There’s something, or someone, that I can’t stop thinking about, and it’s taking over my mind every second of every day. It- It’s Bucky,” you say almost in a whisper. For a few seconds, Tony is completely silent as he lets the thought of you having a crush on one of his fellow Avengers sit in his mind. Then, after what seemed like an eternity, he reaches out for your hand and takes it between his warm ones.

“You know that I’ll always support you in everything, right? I supported you when you expressed your desire to halt your life as an Avenger and retrain as my lab technician, and I supported you when you moved out of Avengers Tower to have your own home with more peace. This is not going to be any different. All I’m hoping for is that he will make you the happiest and best version of you, as you deserve nothing less.”

Tears brim at your waterline as Tony tells you this, and even though you deeply appreciate him, his words, and everything he has done for you, you can’t help but still feel a bit… odd about the fact you told him you’re having a crush on Bucky. That you have a crush on the man who was once the most feared assassin in the world under the hands of HYDRA.

“Now, can you hand me that screwdriver before your thoughts wander off to him again?” your boss asks in a teasing tone, making you smile as you grab it and hand it to him. Somehow, he always seems to know the right thing to say, and it's exactly why you enjoy spending time by his side while learning everything there is to know about his lab and what's going on in there.

Just as you’re about to get comfortable with another drink in your hand, you meet the gaze of the man you’re crushing on, and you feel heat coursing through your veins. The lines around his deep blue eyes intensify as he smiles at you, his attention making every last thought in your brain disappear. You’re so captivated by how Bucky looks at you that you miss your seat as you sit down. However, before you fall, you’re caught by a pair of solid arms that prevent you from hitting the floor.

“Careful there, Little One,” Thor says in his deep voice, his accent always making the butterflies in your stomach go wild. Even though you’d known Thor since you were young, you couldn’t help but get a little flustered by the nickname, and he smiled at you as you were finally sitting on the chair you intended to use.

“Thank you, Thor,” you whisper before sipping your cocktail. Around you, the conversations are starting to become a little blurry as you focus on Bucky and everything he has to say, his lips forming around the words effortlessly. When you suddenly feel a little shove against your arm, you yelp, making everyone go silent as they look at you.

“What did you do that for?!” you ask Thor in a low voice, but all he does is point to Tony, who obviously has something to say as he’s waving for everyone’s attention. There are moments when you enjoy the fact that alcohol can bring out people’s true feelings or thoughts, also known as in vino veritas, but not now. Oh no, now you wish you could disappear as you listen to the words coming out of Tony’s mouth.

“Guys, you really shouldn’t say this to Bucky or Y/N, but they’re having a massive crush on one another!” Tony says in a loud whispering tone, but what he fails to notice in his inebriated state is that you two are sitting right across from one another, enjoying the afterparty just like everyone else. Or at least, you were enjoying the afterparty until your secret got out.

The glass you were holding falls out of your hand before shattering into pieces on the floor, and your feet carry you as fast as they can away from the party and away from your worst nightmare come true. The music behind you fades away as you turn one corner after another, tears burning in your eyes as the event repeatedly replays in your mind. Your lungs start to burn as you keep running, the stinging feeling in your side increasing as you run out of the Avengers Tower into the night.

Meanwhile, Bucky’s world feels like it has taken a 180-degree turn. Mere minutes ago, he could only fantasize that you could have feelings for him, but now? A wave of disbelief washes over the super soldier, his expression showing pure surprise as he takes the moment in. For him, it was a crush at first sight from the momentyou walked into the training room on your first day. Over the years, his feelings have intensified, although he has only told Steve about his crush - or rather his now deep-rooted love - for you.

And yet, now that the pair of you have been confronted about your feelings for one another, he doesn’t know what to do. He has replayed the moment he’d confess his feelings to you more times than he can count in his mind, and in none of those versions, this is one of the scenarios that had appeared. It’s only when Steve grabs his arm and pulls him away that he seemingly comes back to reality again.

“Bucky, how does Tony know about your crush on Y/N? I mean, I’m, of course, fine with you sharing it, but-”

“I don’t know, Steve, I don’t know, and it kills me,” Bucky says as he runs his fingers through his cropped hair.“Fuck- I was planning on telling her this week but… but now it’s ruined, and I didn’t even get the chance to talk to her, and-” It’s all Bucky can say as he fights the urge to punch the wall with his metal fist, both hands clenched by his side as he tries to regulate his breathing. Without warning, Steve pulls him into a hug, and Bucky’s arms snake around his best friend's waist as his fingers clutch at the fabric of his shirt.

“It’s going to be okay, I promise,” Steve whispers, though he’s not entirely sure that’s true because he knows as well as anyone that things don’t always go back to how they were before. Still, Bucky decides to believe him as they stand there for a little while longer, and he soaks in every bit of comfort he can get for now. Lord knows he’s going to need it.

The past few days have been strange, to say the least. You haven’t been to the Avengers Tower since Tony revealed your now not-so-secret crush on the super soldier. You’re afraid of what will happen if you do. This also means you haven’t seen Bucky in a few days, and you miss him. You miss hearing his laugh, and you miss seeing how his mouth turns slightly upward as you hand him one of your baked goods, but most of all, you miss how his arms feel when he pulls you in for a hug.

Just as you’re about to make yourself a cup of tea, you get pulled from your thoughts by a soft but familiar knock on the door; only one thing can make that sound: Bucky’s metal hand knocking against the wood. For a moment, you contemplate your actions, but decide to give him at least a chance to talk, especially as it wasn’t him who laid out your feelings in front of everyone.

“Bucky, hi,” you say softly as you take in his appearance, your heart sinking as you do. It’s evident he hasn’t slept at all the past few days. There are dark circles under his eyes, and he doesn’t look as healthy as usual—more disheveled. The struggles he’s facing are apparent in his entire demeanor, and all you want to do is wrap him up in a warm blanket and cuddle him until the end of time.

“Hi,” he says hoarsely, and you step aside, allowing him to enter your apartment. He’s been here a few times already, and usually there’s a warmth radiating from you and every inch of the little place you call home, but ever since the party, it hasn’t been the same. It isn’t just the apartment, either. You feel different.

“Would you like some tea before we talk?” you ask to break the tension. “I was about to make some.”

He nods at you before wandering further into your apartment, and you head to the kitchen, picking out another mug for Bucky to use. Once he’s caught sight of your couch, he immediately takes a seat, a soft groan audible as he does. There aren’t many places more comfortable than the large couch that’s standing right here in your living room.

When you emerge a few minutes later with two steaming mugs of tea and a plate filled with chocolate chip cookies you baked fresh this morning, Bucky can’t help but smile at you. He gladly takes the tea with one of the cookies, as they’re his favorite, and when you sit down next to him, it feels just like it always has, as if nothing has changed. But you both know it has, and that’s why the super soldier’s now in your living room.

“So…” you start, unsure what to say now that he’s sitting on your couch. Bucky’s eyes are trained on the steaming tea in his hands, his thoughts going a mile a minute as he’s thinking about what he wants to say - other than confessing his love for you.

“So… uhm, we missed seeing you around the Tower,” Bucky starts, though you both know it’s mostly him who has missed seeing you there. You have always been a staple there during his mornings as you make him a cup of coffee, and during movie nights, you were always the one he could sit next to and enjoy the movie, but now that you’re not there, it’s like a piece of soul has left the Tower with you.

“I mean, yeah. It’s been a bit awkward for me to go back after what happened a few days ago,” you tell him, and a shudder of horror runs down your spine at the thought of having to face Tony again. A smile tugs at the corners of Bucky’s lips as he thinks back to what happened that night, a happy memory of your first meeting resurfacing in the back of his mind as he does.

“Good morning, Sergeant Barnes. I’ve made some chocolate chip cookies, if you want some. However, I should warn you, Tony’s been on the prowl since I took them out of the oven, so I’ll advise you to be quick,” you say with a glare towards Tony, who has been eyeing them up since he walked into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee. For the first time in a long time, Bucky showed something akin to a smile, and everyone looked at each other to ensure they saw it, too.

“Thank you,” he says lowly, grabbing one of the smaller ones on the plate, followed by a cup of coffee, before swiftly leaving the kitchen to spend more time in his room. Before Bucky even left the kitchen, Tony was on the cookies as if he hadn’t eaten in weeks, and this time you let him.

“Can I- Is it okay if I tell you something? Because if I don’t say it now, I don’t know if I ever will,” Bucky says softly, and you nod before repositioning yourself so that you’re facing him. His gaze is still trained on his mug as he thinks carefully about his next words, afraid he might accidentally say the wrong thing.

“Tony was right. He is right, actually. When he said, we’re crushing on each other. I’ve been crushing on you since you offered me those chocolate chip cookies when Tony threatened to eat them all before anyone else had a chance to get them. It was like a switch flipped inside me back then, and I haven’t been the same since,” Bucky says, his mouth now in a line as he tells you about his feelings.

“Each time I look at you, it’s like I’m seeing an angel, and every time I hear your voice, it’s like a little piece of my soul is healing, too. I find myself drawn to you in every room and wonder what life has in store for us. But deep down inside, I know there is no ‘us’ yet. But I want there to be us. I want you, Y/N. I want you to be mine, in whatever capacity you’ll have me. If you want to stay friends, that’s okay with me, but if you want more, I’ll happily accept every bit of love you’re willing to offer me.”

Once Bucky’s done, you’re unsure what to say. What to think. What to do. You want to say that the feelings between you are mutual, that you’re in love with him and that you want nothing more than to be his, but something inside you is stopping you. So, instead of saying anything, you place your hand over his flesh limb, and his eyes slip shut at the feeling of your soft fingers against his rough hand.

“Bucky.” His name is a whisper on your lips, but it’s enough to make him look at you, to meet your gaze.

“I’m in love with you, too.”

As soon as the words leave your lips, Bucky carefully put his tea on the coffee table before hauling you onto his lap, his hands digging into the soft flesh of your waist as your lips interlock in a passionate dance. He can’t get enough of your soft mouth slotting together with his and the way his tongue fights for dominance with yours as your fingers dig into his neck. It’s been a long time since you’ve felt a strong connection with someone, and you’re happy to explore it with Bucky.

Your hips grind over his growing length of their own volition,your body looking for any bit of friction it can get. Without warning, one of Bucky’s hands slides lower until he’s cupping your ass, making you gasp into his mouth as a result. Bucky can’t help but smile into the kiss as he pulls you impossibly closer, your legs spreading just a bit further as you sink against his muscular body.

“Hmm, I’ve been wanting this - you - for so long,” he says between the kisses trailing your jaw towards your ear, his teeth nipping on your earlobe as your head lolls to the side. With every passing second, your thoughts are melting away more and more, and all that’s left inside your mind is Bucky. Soon, his other hand joins the first as he helps you grind onto him, a groan falling from his lips as he sets a perfect pace for you both.

“B-Bucky—" his name sounds more like a whine than anything else. “I—I want you.”

“But you already have me, pretty girl, ‘m right here,” he says with a teasing lilt to his voice, his hands continuing to help you grind until you’re a complete mess for him. Your shorts are ruined, your arousal soaking through them and onto the bulge in his black jeans, much to Bucky’s joy. He was wondering what it would take to get you to this point, and it turns out it won’t take much.

He smiles against the skin of your neck, where he’s taking his time to mark you with hickeys and small bitemarks, all of which leave you a bit more of a moaning, begging mess on his lap, much to his pride. When one of your hands moves away from his neck and down his torso, he quickly catches on to what you’re doing. “Someone’s a little impatient today, huh?”

“Yes, oh god, yes! I need you to touch me, Bucky. I want to feel you inside me as you make me fall apart on your cock, and I need you to fuck me like there’s no tomorrow!” Your voice sounds more breathy than usual, but every care you thought you had has gone out the window. All you want is Bucky and his cock to ride, until you’re orgasming so hard and long you can’t remember your name.

“Okay, I will. Don’t you worry about anything, okay? Let me take care of you, and I’ll give you everything you need and more,” he reassures you in a shushing voice. You nod before kissing him again, which immediately deepens before he gently helps you get up, allowing you to take off your panties and shorts, and he can take off his pants and boxershorts, too. As soon as you’re both freed from your last pieces of clothing, you hand him a condom you retrieved from the side table drawer while he took the time to undress himself.

“Hmmm, looks so thick,” you tell him as you look at it with wide eyes, wondering how he’s going to fit inside you as you’re positioning yourself on his lap once more, your legs bracketing his thicks thighs as you get comfortable.

“I know, but I’m gonna go slow. Wouldn’t want to hurt you and your perfect, sweet little pussy.” He smiles as he holds his cock in place, your pliant body sinking onto him slowly as your fingers dig into his shoulders to steady yourself. Your hiss of pleasure is audible and your face contorts at the slight sting of him stretching you, but just like he promised, Bucky is taking it slow to ensure you’ll both have the most amazing first time.

As soon as you’re fully seated on his lap, your body goes limp against him, your face tucked in the crook of his neck as you adjust to his girth, and Bucky places soft kisses on your head while praising you through it all. “You’re doing so well for me, baby. Such a good girl for me, letting me take the lead and giving you exactly what you need.”

A small smile appears on your face as you look up at him with big, doe-like eyes, and he can’t help but smile back as the back of his fingers gently caress your cheek. He may have thought you were beautiful before, but nothing compares to this moment. 

“I love you, Y/N, and I promise to take care of you with every fiber of my being,” he whispers, his lips sealing his promise against your cheek. Your eyes fall shut at his words, and his hand moves down your side until it’s on your hip again, ready for you to let him know when you’re good to go. Your bodies work in complete sync with one another with every rise and fall of your chest, and his hands guide you beautifully as you slowly sink and rise on his length.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groans, and it doesn’t take long for both of you to find your highs for the first time, and they’re serving as a promise of everything else that’s still to come in this lifetime. A few days ago, you and Bucky didn’t even know you felt the same about one another, but now you’re sharing the start of the rest of your lives, and it’s all thanks to Tony. Because without him, you wouldn’t have been able to tell the man of your dreams how much you love him.

Masterlist → Bucky Barnes

GIF: Source → All the other graphics you see are made by @vintagebuckybarnes

[gukcnt]

BACK IN YOUR ARMS ⭒ JJK

in which jungkook returns from his military service to reunite with his girl, spending a passionate night filled with love and longing after their separation.

pairing — dom!jungkook x sub!femreader

genre — established relationship, reunion, military enlistment, long distance relationship, slice of life, angst, smut, fluff

warnings/tags — 18+, explicit smut, possessive!jungkook, soulmate vibes, hurt and comfort, longing, separation anxiety, love confessions, desperation, emotional intensity, heartbreak, lots of sex scenes, several orgasms, different positions, emotional sex, reunion sex, unprotected sex, creampie, oral sex (f. receiving), making out, hickies and marking, body worshipping, eating out, face riding, face sitting, tongue fucking, clit stimulation, cum swallowing, lots of breast play, nipple play, overstimulation, forced orgasms, pain from pleasure, dirty talk, praise kink, fingering, pussy inspection, hair fisting and pulling, oral sex (m. receiving), blowjob, deep throating, gagging and choking, face fucking, 69 position, mutual oral sex, rough sex, missionary, cum play, loving aftercare

wc — 7.3k

a/n — this one was requested by some of my lovies! I also decided to write this because our man just got discharged from the military and came home to us hehe, hope y'all enjoy this! <3

series m. list | main m. list

────୨ৎ────

The morning of jungkook's departure for his military service broke through, almost like the universe itself mourned for the separation.

You stood outside the recruitment center, the crowd around you full of chaos—families holding each other, lots of other recruits with their belongings looking sad and disliking the separation.

The air was thick with heavy grief.

And you could feel it press against your chest but all you could focus on was jungkook, your boyfriend, standing before you.

His presence intensifying all the emotions you were feeling.

His dark hair was slightly overgrown and messy from the restless passionate night you'd both spent.

His jaw was often set in a grumpy line when he faced the world.

To others he was almost unapproachable, a man who carried himself with intensity.

Pushing people away.

But with you he was completely different.

His dark eyes soften when they meet yours, filling with warmth that made your heart flutter, his smile—was yours alone.

A secret shared between you two.

To him you were his entire world, the one person who he could be himself with, who could unravel his distant personality and bring out the tender love he hid from everyone else.

Your hands tremble as you clutched his, fingers intertwining tightly.

A desperate attempt to hold onto him.

His hands were warm and calloused, his thumbs brushing over the backs of your hands in a slow, soothing motion.

As if he could take away the heartbreak inside you.

You leaned onto him, his scent enveloping you—clean male and his usual cologne.

It was a scent you were used to and it always surrounds you with safety and love, now it was a cruel reminder of what you were about to lose. His scent that will still linger in your clothes and your apartment once he's gone.

His absence undeniable.

“I don’t wanna go.” jungkook murmurs.

He leans down, pressing his forehead against yours, warm breath brushing over your lips.

The closeness was desperate.

He wished that he could stop time.

Plead for it.

His dark eyes search yours, filling with emotions—fear, love and anger at the separation none of you could stop.

“This is fucking torture, baby. I can’t do this… staying without you.”

Your throat tighten at his words, making it hard for you to swallow as tears welled in your eyes even though you promised him not to cry.

You could see the pain in his features, the way his brows furrowed and the way his lips trembled despite his efforts to stay strong for you.

“You’ll come back to me.” you whisper.

Voice quivering.

He lets out a shaky breath, hands moving to cup your face, thumbs brushing away the tears, his touch firm.

Grounding you.

Even though it felt like the world was crumbling around you.

“I promise, sweet girl. I’ll count every damn hour until I’m back holding you in my arms.”

His were were a vow

A lifeline.

You could hear the rumble of the bus in the distance, reminding you of the reality you both are going to face.

You looked at the other families clinging to each other for the last moment and everything was overwhelming for you, their sorrow matching your own.

“kookie…” you whimper.

Your fingers clutch the fabric of his shirt tightly, his heart pounding underneath your palm, a rhythm that seemed to increase now.

You press yourself closer as if you could mend your body to his, all while he's gripping your waist in such a tight grip it almost hurts, but it still wasn’t enough.

Like you could keep him from leaving.

“I’m scared. I’m so scared of what its gonna be like without you here.”

He pulled you into his arms, chin resting on the top of your head and you buried your face in his chest, inhaling his familiar scent.

Imprinting it in your memory.

“I’m scared too.” he admits.

His lips pressing on your cheek, voice raw and pained.

“I’m fucking terrified, baby, but you’re stronger than you think… you’re my brave girl and you’re gonna be okay, I’m going to be back before you even know it.”

“I’ll write to you every chance I get and call you whenever they let me. You're not losing me, you hear me? hmm?”

His words help with the ache in your chest and you tilted your head up, meeting his eyes, seeing the tears glistening in his eyes as well.

“Promise me you’ll be careful.” you breathe, shakily.

“I promise.” he said, fiercely.

His hands tightening on your face.

“I’ll come back to you… nothing’s gonna keep me away from you.”

The officer's voice came through, calling jungkook's name with an impatience that knotted your stomach, your knees getting weak as you clung to him.

Fingers digging harder into his chest, desperate to hold onto the moment.

“No, not yet please.” you beg.

His hand slides to your shoulders, gripping them.

“I don’t wanna let you go.”

His voice hoarse.

“Fuck, I’d give anything to stay here with you, to have you next to me...”

You sobbed as you buried your face in his chest again, his arms tightening around you, breath hitching as he pressed his lips to the top of your head.

“I love you.” you choked out.

Muffled in his chest, he holds you tightly, almost trying to anchor you to him.

“I love you more.” he says, fiercely.

He lifts your chin to meet his, eyes burning with a love so fierce.

That it stole your breath.

“You’re my only girl.”

His lips crash against yours, a kiss that was desperate, hungry and full of everything he couldn’t say.

His mouth was urgent, exploring everything and his minty taste fill your mouth.

An intimacy you’d shared so many times before.

His hands cup the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair.

His hands cupped the back of your thighs, you got the gesture and jumped, causing him to pick you up.

Your legs wrapping around his waist as he pulls you closer.

The kiss was a moment of connection before the separation and he pours every ounce of love into it, your tears mixing with his as they fell.

Both of you tasting the salt of the tears.

His lips moving against yours spoke of the months apart, the nights that will be spent with longing for a love in the distance.

The officer called his name again, sharper this time and jungkook reluctantly pulled back, both your breaths ragged.

His eyes locked on yours, his hands lingering on your face, thumbs brushing over your cheeks one last time.

“Wait for me, love.”

His voice a growl.

“Always,” you promised.

“until I’m back in your arms”

He pressed one last kiss to your forehead, lips lingering and then he steps back, his hands slipping from yours, losing his touch.

It felt like a physical wound.

He grabbed his duffel bag, slinging it over his shoulder, his jaw clench tightly and he looks at you one last time.

You waved, covering your lips to muffle the cry.

He turns, his tall and strong figure sulking down in sadness as he walks towards the gate.

Soon the crowd swallows him and you watched until he disappeared, your chest hurting beyond words.

You stood there long after he was gone, the coldness setting in your body, no longer receiving the warmth his presence provided.

You turn away from the center, steps slow, heart heavy.

The world already felt emptier without him.

۶ৎ

The months that followed were full of longing.

jungkook's military service was taking up all his time and the communication was very rare.

You sometimes wrote letters to each other, pouring your heart onto the paper.

The letters contained the simplest details of your life as you describe the weather, the new candles you bought or the way you wore his oversized shirts to bed.

To feel closer to him.

His letters back were hurried in his messy handwriting, but each word was so full of love and adoration.

“I miss your laugh.”

He wrote in one.

“I miss the way you scrunch your nose when you’re shy. I miss holding you… I can’t breathe without you.”

Phone calls were very occasional.

Only when he got a break but it was never enough.

His voice always heavy with tiredness.

“I’m counting the days,” he says.

“You’re the only thing keeping me sane here, baby.”

You'd cry after each call, clutching the phone to your chest, his voice breaking you more.

The apartment felt too big without him, the silence too loud, his scent still lingers everywhere, especially on his pillow that gave you company in his absence.

It was fading, you realized but you’d bury your face in it every night, chasing even the bits of his scent.

As you wait.

Counting the days, clinging to the promise of his return.

Your love for him the only thing keeping you tethered.

۶ৎ

The day of jungkook's discharge arrives.

For him the military enlistment was a place with tiring months—full of orders, work and a deep ache for the life he’d left behind.

Now, standing at the first day of his freedom, his heart raced with a single all consuming thought: you.

jungkook adjusted the strap of his duffel bag, scanning the crowd that had gathered.

Waiting for their own reunion.

But as jungkook's eyes raked over the faces, his chest tightened with a growing panic.

You weren’t there.

The one face he needed to see.

The one that had kept him awake at night was nowhere to be found.

You promised to be here.

In every letter, every phone call, you’d told him that you’ll be the first thing he sees once he comes back.

The memory of your voice was still in his mind.

“I’ll be there, jungkook. I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

He clung to those words but now, standing alone in the crowd of reunions, doubt came in.

Had something happened? were you hurt?

His fingers tightened around the strap of his bag as he forced himself to move forward, gaze darting left and right searching for your face and the way your eyes always seem to find his in a crowd.

Nothing.

He ran his hand through his hair, it was almost like a habit, one you'd always teased him about, saying he looked like a grumpy bunny when he did it.

You were his anchor.

His reason for enduring the sleepless nights, the training that sucked the soul out of him and the several days of separation

Without you here, it hurt him.

“Everything okay, soldier?”

A man that was with jungkook at the camp, another soldier he had a good interaction with.

“I don’t know…” jungkook admitted.

“My girl… she was supposed to be here.”

“Long time apart, huh? that’s alright, bet she’s waiting for you though... girls like to surprise you sometimes.” the man laughs.

jungkook forces a small smile.

“Yeah, maybe.” he whispers.

The man pats jungkook in the back before heading out.

jungkook decides to head out as well, knowing you are not here.

He approached closer to a cab, voice rough as he gave the address of your shared apartment.

The cab pulls away from the base.

He stared out the window as it was all familiar, he’d dreamed of this moment, returning back home.

Returning to you.

When the cab finally pulled up to the apartment, jungkook quickly came out, his heart hammering as his hands fumbled with the bills, paying the driver.

What if you weren’t there?

What if something had happened?

He slid the key into the lock, pushing the door open, stepping inside with urgency.

His duffel bag hits the ground.

It was quiet all over the apartment, your usual vanilla scent fills him, deepening the urge to see you.

You weren’t there.

“baby?” he calls out.

The stack of new books on the couch tightened his throat.

A reminder of the small promises left unfulfilled because of the separation.

He promised that he will listen to you read those aloud since he knew how much you loved reading novels and he loves hearing you read them to him just as much.

He finally reached the bedroom door, pushing it open, expecting you to be here.

He froze.

The sight before him stealing his breath.

There you were.

Laying on the bed, glowing with the slight sunlight from the window, the sheets on you did little to distract from the vision of you—naked and exposed.

Yet so breathtakingly beautiful.

All your curves exposed to him—the soft swell of your breasts and the curve of your hips, your hair down.

You look at him with wide eyes, full of shyness and also with longing that can be seen from the way your eyes glisten with tears.

Your eyes locked onto his, a flush on your cheeks, hands trembling slightly, betraying the nervous anticipation that was going through you.

Your nipples were hard, pebbled in the cool air and your legs were slightly parted.

A silent invitation that made his mouth go dry.

jungkook dropped to his knees beside the bed in front of you, his entire form filling with relief and desire.

His hands shook reaching for you, cupping your cheek as you closed your eyes, letting out a broken whimper at the feel of his touch after so long.

Your soft skin against his hand ached him with a fierce need.

Almost consuming him.

As his fingers trace your features, making sure that you were real and he wasn’t dreaming

His thumbs brushed away the tears that had gathered in your eyes, his own eyes watering.

“Fuck”

He breathes.

“Baby, you’re… you’re here.”

His eyes roam over you, drinking in every detail—your half lidded eyes, the way your breasts heaved with your shaky breaths.

Especially the way your lips part slightly, glistening with the faint trace of gloss.

His cock twitched in his uniform pants, the fabric suddenly too tight as he felt the heat through him.

He was hard, achingly so.

And the sight of you like this—waiting for him just as he’d dreamed—was taking up all the pent up frustrations and hunger he’d held back for months.

You sat up slightly, voice trembling with emotion.

“I wanted to surprise you.”

You whispered, eyes never leaving his.

“I read your letter, the one where you said… you wanted me waiting for you and I missed you, so I wanted to make it special.”

His heart clenched, his worry leaving him as he leans closer, forehead pressing against yours.

The scent of him immediately makes your heart race.

“I thought something happened to you.” he breathes.

A tear streamed down his face, mixing with yours and his grip on your face tightens as if making sure you were okay.

“I’m right here.” you croak.

Tears spilling down your cheek.

“I’m so sorry I scared you, koo.”

He shook his head, a guttural sound leaving his throat.

“Don’t apologize,”

“You’re here. You’re safe and that’s all that matters.”

His lips crashed against yours, no longer able to hold himself back, the kiss desperate, full of longing and relief after months apart.

His tongue slipped past your lips, tangling with yours, exploring all over.

That expressed exactly how much he missed you.

And how he won't ever let you go.

Your hands clutch at his uniform, bunching the fabric as you pulled him closer, needing to feel every inch of him.

His tongue coaxes out needy noises from you, making him groan in return, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

His hands don’t stay still as they start roaming all over your body, tracing everywhere, his fingers trembling with the need to memorize you all over again.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes intense.

“Waiting for me like this… my perfect girl.”

Your cheeks flush, a shy smile tugging at your lips despite the throb in your pussy.

“I wanna make you happy,” you whispered.

“I thought about you every day, kookie…”

He groans again, hands sliding down to your hips, gripping them as he pulls you closer to the edge of the bed.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he growls.

“Seeing you like this… fuck, I’ve dreamt of this every night.”

You reach for him, fingers brushing against the hard planes of his chest through his uniform.

“I love you.” he whispers.

“I love you too.”

He kissed you again, softer this time but no less intense, lips moving against yours, hands sliding up to cup your face once again.

His hands slid down to your thighs, parting them gently and your breath hitched, body already responding to him.

Your pussy was wet, clit pulsing with need, the anticipation of his touch made you dizzy and he noticed.

He always does.

He takes in the sight of you before him.

Ready and waiting.

“Goddamn,” he murmurs.

“What am I gonna do with this girl?”

He leans down, lips brushing against your collarbone, leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses as his hands roam higher, cupping your breasts, weighing them.

His thumbs brush over your hard nipples, drawing a soft gasp from you.

You arched into his touch, hands clutching at his shoulders.

“jungkook…”

All the pleas and begs in his name alone.

jungkook stood, taking off his military uniform, discarding it on the floor, eyes never leaving yours.

His black undershirt strained against his muscular frame that was even broader now after months of working out and training in the military.

His dark eyes rake over your naked form sprawled across the sheets like an offering.

And he was about to devour you.

There was a faint sheen of sweat coating your body, breasts heaving from your pants as your thighs remained parted.

Just enough to reveal the glistening evidence of your arousal.

jungkook snarls, his cock pulsing painfully inside his uniform pants.

The sight of you—his sweet, shy girl, so vulnerable yet waiting for him—lights something primal in him.

His hands shook, reaching for the hem of his undershirt and he yanked the shirt over his head in one swift motion.

His chest full of hard muscles, abs even more prominent now and defined, glistening with sweat.

The tattoos were highlighted on his arm and his body also had scars from training.

All these only added to his rugged look.

“Fuck baby,” he rasped.

“Look at you…”

Your pussy clenched at the adoration in his voice as you shift on the bed, clutching the sheets, a teasing smile on your lips.

“I wanted to be pretty for you.” you croon.

His gaze softens for a moment, a flicker of tenderness breaking through the hunger.

“You’re always pretty,” he said.

“But this… this is fucking torture, I’ve been wanting this for months.”

He stepped closer, hands moving to the buckle of his belt, the metallic clink making your pulse race.

His fingers hurried as he unfastened his pants, shoving them down, only leaving his boxers on.

His bulge was very visible, a wet spot forming on the fabric from the precum beading out of him.

You press your thighs together at the sight of him, instinctively, a soft whimper escaping your lips.

jungkook noticed, lips curling into a smirk that was almost predatory.

“You want me, love?” he teased.

His voice rough.

He finally kicks off his pants and you can see his body, full of power and strength.

Such a stark difference compared to his body before.

And his cock twitched, watching you check him out like the way he was doing to you.

“Please… I need you.” you whisper.

He hums, the sound causing you goosebumps as he climbs onto the bed, his hands find your thighs, pulling you towards him.

Manhandling you.

You let out a squeak.

“Gonna make you feel good.” he husks.

Lips brushing your earlobe.

“I’m going to make up for every fucking day I couldn’t touch you.”

His hands slid up your sides, leaving heat trails in his wake. He paused at your breasts, cupping them and squeezing gently, thumbs rolling your nipples.

It sent a jolt straight to your core and you arched into him.

“jungkook…” You moan, softly.

His eyes locked on your breasts, thumbs continue circling the buds.

“These tits,” he grumbles.

“I’ve been thinking about them… so soft, so perfect.”

He pinched the nipples gently, flicking them and you let out a whine, hips bucking towards him.

He lowered his head, lips closing around one and you cried out, hands tangling in his short hair, tugging.

His mouth hot, sucking onto the sensitive bud and his tongue swirls with a fast pace that makes your toes curl.

You let out a broken moan, his teeth grazing lightly over your nipple.

“Oh god… jungkook”

He moved to your other breast, giving it the same attention, lips and tongue working in tandem.

His hand continues to knead the neglected one, pinching and tugging until you were writhing beneath him, bunching the sheets.

Your nipples swollen, glistening with his saliva and the sight seemed to drive him wild.

“mm… you’re so sensitive.”

A deep chuckle rumble from his chest, lips brushing your skin as he speaks.

You could feel the slickness pooling between your thighs, coating your folds.

Your lips remain parted, panting.

“Please.” you signed.

Your hands tugging at his hair.

“I need more…”

He smirks, tongue coming out to lick his bottom lip in a sensual way that has your eyes dilating.

“Oh, baby… I’m going to give you exactly what you want.”

His hands spread your thighs, as far as they would go, exposing your pussy to his hungry gaze.

The cool air against your heated skin makes you shiver, but the real shock came when his fingers brush against your soaked folds.

A grunt leaves his mouth, taking in your quivering pussy.

Your clit pulse harder under his gaze, his fingers sliding through your wetness, coating themselves in your slick.

He parts your folds, thumb brushing lightly over your clit.

“Oh!”

Your hips jerk upward.

“So fucking wet for me… you’ve been thinking of this, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” you admitted.

“Every night, koo, I touched myself thinking of you.”

His eyes flash with an animal need, he leans down, the smell of your arousal hitting him, making his nostrils flare.

“Good girl.” he hums.

His lips brushing your clit.

“Now let me take care of you the way you deserve.”

He didn’t tease for long.

His tongue lapped at your clit with slow strokes as you let out needy murmurs, thighs shaking.

He holds your legs apart tightly, almost bruising them in the process, something you don’t mind.

You'll look at the bruises later, admiring them.

His tongue circled your clit before his lips close around the throbbing nub, sucking hard and you cry out, hips thrusting against his mouth.

“Hahh, jungkook, mhmm—”

He focuses on your pussy, letting out growls of approval at your taste as he eats you out like a starved man.

He has been away from you for so long and all the overload need has turned him feral.

His tongue switched between different motions, from soft licks to sucks that made your vision blur.

He flattened his tongue, dragging it from your entrance to your clit, tasting every inch of you and you felt your orgasm building quickly.

Your hips rocked, chasing it, stomach knotting faster.

His hands grip your thighs and the sting of his nails digging into you only heightened your arousal.

You let out a shaky cry.

“Please don’t stop!”

You were only capable of begging and uttering his name.

He pulls back just enough to speak, lips glistening with your arousal, some dripping on his chin and the sight makes you look away in shame and embarrassment.

“Never.” he snarls.

He dove back in, tongue plunging into your entrance, fucking you with slow, deep thrusts that made you see stars.

He would alternate between fucking you with his tongue and sucking your clit.

It felt like a delicious torture.

You were a mess, couldn’t think straight as your body trembled.

Your hands found his hair again, tugging hard and he moaned against your pussy, the vibration pushing you closer to release.

He slid one hand up your thigh, fingers finding your entrance.

He teased you first, circling you with one finger, spreading your slickness all over your mound before pushing in slowly.

You gasped, clenching around his finger.

The intrusion almost felt foreign yet familiar after so long.

“So tight,” he huffs.

“I bet being away from you for so long made you tight all over again… gotta stretch this cunt for me.”

He added a second finger, stretching you and you yelped, head falling back against the pillow.

His fingers curled inside you to find that spot that makes you scream.

He pumped them slowly at first, his tongue still working your clit, sucking hard as his fingers fucked you.

You were in tears.

The dual sensation too much.

“Nghh, kookie!” you screamed.

Your body almost lifting off the bed as your orgasm crashed over you.

Your pussy pulsed around his fingers, clit throbbing against his tongue.

He didn’t stop.

His fingers pumping faster, his mouth sucking harder.

You sobbed, vision going white.

“jungkook, oh god, ahh—I’m coming!”

His tongue lapped up every drop of your release, groaning in approval as his fingers slowed but did not stop, drawing out your orgasm.

Until you were an oversensitive mess.

“That’s it,” he coaxed you.

“I missed this… you taste so good.”

You collapsed onto the bed, chest heaving with your pants, jungkook pulls out his fingers slowly, making you whimper.

He brought them to his lips, sucking them clean, his eyes never leaving yours.

The sight making your pussy clench again.

A fresh wave of arousal pooling between your thighs.

He crawls up your body, lips finding yours and you tasted yourself on his tongue, mixing with his saliva and you moaned into his mouth.

Your hands roaming his broad back, feeling the hard muscle under his skin.

“I missed you.” you whispered.

Voice hoarse from screaming

“I missed you too, sweet girl.”

His voice rough with emotion.

He kneels between your legs, taking off the only garment covering his body, his boxers slide down as he throws them somewhere in the room.

Your eyes were closed, body still trembling from the orgasm he'd just given you, trying to catch your breath.

Your nipples still ached from his earlier attention.

You open your eyes slightly to meet his, his pupils blown wide with lust as he looks down at you.

You inhale sharply as you look at his cock standing proudly and heavy, like a promise of what's about to come.

It was thick, veiny and the tip flushed, glistening with precum that beaded at the tip.

The sight of it made your mouth water, throat going dry.

Your clit pulse as well looking at his thrashing length and you fisted the sheets in need.

It was bigger than you remembered.

The months of absence made it seem almost intimidating, his throbbing cock proving how desperately he wanted you.

You sat up.

Reaching for him, fingers trembling as they wrapped around his cock.

You felt the hardness of him along with the throb as you started stroking him slowly, thumb brushing over the tip, spreading the precum and making him hiss, his hips jerking.

“Fuck, my love,” he grunts.

“Your hands...”

You licked your lips, meeting his eyes.

“I wanna taste you.” you purr.

Your voice was shy but still laced with a boldness that surprised even you.

His eyes almost turn pitch black, a growl rumbling from his chest.

“Then take me,” he urges.

“Suck my cock like you mean it.”

You didn’t hesitate.

Leaning forward, you press a soft kiss to the tip, tasting the saltiness reminding you of the past memories where he guided you in the way he likes.

You both knew each other's body like the back of your hands.

Knowing exactly how to please the other, knowing what makes the others eyes roll at the back of their heads.

His hands tangling in your hair, not pushing but guiding but still holding back to take things at your pace, which you understood from his hold.

You take him into your mouth, tongue swirling around the head as his heavy cock fill your mouth.

You sucked gently at first, lips sliding down his shaft tracing the vein that pulsed beneath.

“Oh god…”

He hissed, head falling back as you looked up at him to see his adam's apple bobbing with his gulp.

The sight made your thighs clench, bare giving you any relief.

“Always so fucking good at pleasing your man.”

You moaned around him at his praise, the vibration making his hips buck and you knew from his actions that he wanted you to take him deeper.

You took him as far as you could, throat constricting as you fought the urge to gag, eyes watering.

But determined.

Your hand wrap around the base, stroking what your mouth couldn’t reach as your other hand cupped his balls, rolling them gently.

Feeling their weight, his grip tightens in your hair.

“Just like that, baby,” he grits out.

“You’re gonna kill me.”

You pulled back slightly as your tongue swirls around the head again, sucking hard and his husky growls were driving you crazy.

Each sound sends a jolt to your core.

You could feel yourself getting wetter, aching for his touch.

Any friction.

You tried to ignore your needs and focused on bobbing your head, setting a rhythm, his cock twitching in your mouth, hips thrusting slightly.

And you hollowed your cheeks, sucking harder, wanting to drive him as wild as he'd driven you.

But jungkook wasn’t content to let you have all the control.

“I need to taste you again.” he scoffs.

His voice fill with urgency as he pulls you off his cock with a gentle tug, his hands guiding you to straddle his face with your back facing him.

Before you could react.

You gasp, clutching his muscled body as he positioned himself so his cock hovered over your mouth, the tip brushing your lips while his face settled between your thighs.

His breath hot against your pussy that was still dripping from your earlier release.

The sight of him—his cock so close—made your mouth water again and you didn’t waste any time reaching up and guiding his cock back into your mouth.

Sucking eagerly.

At the same time his tongue finds your pussy, you moaned around his cock, his lips closing around your clit, sucking gently and you bucked your hips.

Your body struggling to maintain the overwhelming sensation.

He groans against your pussy, the vibration sending shockwaves through you while you can’t keep up with sucking his cock.

Now moaning against it.

His tongue relentless as he teased the sensitive bud before sliding to your entrance, gathering the arousal there.

“Oh shit, ahmm—”

You gasp, his nose nudging your clit.

“I could drown in you.” he says.

Voice muffled.

You tried focusing on his cock and not on what a squirming mess he was driving you into, cock sliding deeper into your mouth as he thrusts gently.

Your tongue swirling as you stroke the base, sputtering, eyes watering.

Your arousal drips onto his tongue.

You were basically riding his nose now, his tongue curling inside you was too much and you were letting out choked whimpers and moans around his cock.

His hands held you open and the wet sounds of his mouth against your pussy mingled with the sounds of your mouth on his cock.

Creating a lewd music that fills the room.

“kookie,” you sob.

“You’re gonna make me come again… stop please.”

He doesn’t stop his tongue moving faster, fucking you deeper, his movements feral as you didn’t back down as well, even though your thighs were shaking.

You took him back into your mouth, sucking hard as you deep throated him and you gagged, stroking while his tongue and lips drove you closer.

You both were lost in each other, giving and taking in equal measure while he fucked your mouth and worshipped your pussy.

Controlling you in all ways.

You came first, body arching, your sobs muffled on his cock, tears leaving your eyes as he laps up every drop.

You pulled off his cock, body shaking uncontrollably.

Your orgasm left you weak but you didn’t stop pumping his cock and he groaned, thrusting harder into your mouth, chasing his release.

“Fuck, baby, I’m close.” he pants.

You knew he was near from the throb of his cock.

You let out a needy whine around him and the vibration was enough to push him over the edge, cum spilling into your mouth, coating your tongue.

You swallowed eagerly, savoring the taste of him, tongue working until he let out a growl.

His hand cupping the back of your head.

You collapse in his arms, his chest heaving as you both lay there for a moment catching your breath, your bodies still humming with the aftershocks.

He pecked your lips, giving you the taste of both of you.

“I’ve missed this… missed us.” he whispers.

You hum, eyes watering, fingers tracing the lines of his tattoos as his hand soon starts roaming your body again and you know this is only the beginning of the night.

The hunger between you far from sated.

You both craved more.

jungkook hovered above you and you still felt your release dripping down your thighs, pooling on the sheets.

He breathes hard, taking you in naked and spread out for him, breasts still rising and falling.

“I need you inside me.” you whimpered.

Your voice filled with need.

A low growl rumbles from his chest as he positions himself between your thighs, the bed creaking under his weight.

“I’m gonna give you everything, love.” he promised.

“Fuck you so good... make you feel how much I missed you.”

He grips his cock, hand wrapping around the base and rubbed the tip against your slick folds, teasing your clit with slow strokes.

You gasp under the pressure, cunt clenching in anticipation.

You didn’t want teasing.

“Oh god, koo…” you huff.

Nails digging into his shoulder, he drags his cock through your slit, coating himself in your wetness.

Your pussy was swollen and ready.

The months of being apart have left you hypersensitive.

Even the slightest contact of his length sent sparks of pleasure through you.

You gave him pleading eyes, tears dropping.

He didn’t make you wait any longer, his own restraint fading and he pushed into you with a slow thrust, cock penetrating your pussy, inch by inch.

It was too much.

A delicious burn while your walls adjust for him, tightening further on him.

A cry of pain and pleasure leaves you.

He groaned, head falling to your shoulder as he bottoms out, cock buried to the hilt.

“Shit,”

“You’re so tight… so perfect around me.” he husks.

His cock pulsed inside you, hips rocking slowly at first, each thrust taking him deeper.

With each thrust of him, you let out “ohs” and clench the bedsheets.

“You like that, hm?” he asks.

“Like how my cock feels inside this little pussy?”

“Yes.” you sobbed.

Voice high and needy, hips rocking to meet his thrusts.

“Please don’t stop!”

He growls, his thrusts pick up their speed as his hips snap against yours.

The sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.

His tip almost brushes your cervix, making you see stars behind your vision.

He grumbles, his eyes locked on where his cock disappears into your pussy, puffy folds stretched around him and the quivering nub just above it.

“Taking me so well like a good naughty girl” he tsks.

He leans down, plunging his tongue into your mouth while his tongue performed the same sex act that his cock was giving you.

You struggle to breathe, just mumbling expletives while scratching his back.

Your breasts bounce with each thrust and he noticed, his hand sliding up to cup one, fingers pinching and rolling your nipple.

He leans down, sucking onto one and you cry out, arching your back as your pussy clenches on him rhythmically.

You were drooling now, brows furrowed.

You were mindless, not capable of feeling anything but the pleasure he was igniting inside you.

“jungkook. jungkook. jungkook.”

You chanted his name, voice breaking.

You didn’t know if you wanted him to slow down or keep going, his thrusts relentless now, cock pounding you while his balls slap against your ass.

He fucks you like a man possessed.

His cock was hitting your g-spot with every stroke, you were screaming now, biting into the sheets to ground yourself.

“You’re gonna cum for me?” he rasps.

His hands slide down to rub your clit, fingers circling it in tight fast circles and the added stimulation was breaking you, pussy clenching around him so tightly.

He hissed.

His thrusts faltering slightly.

“Come on my cock, sweetheart… let me feel you.”

“Ahh, hnn I’m gonna—”

Your words were cut off with a scream that ends with a wail as your orgasm hit you.

Pussy spasming around his cock.

Your walls milking him with you release

Your body shook, nails digging on his back, almost drawing blood.

“Shh, that’s it.” he calms you.

Even though his voice was strained from chasing his release, thrusts growing harder.

He kisses you, swallowing your moans and cries as he fucked you through your orgasm and he finally came, his cum hot and thick, filling you with spurts and spurts of it.

He moans your name, hips jerking as he empties himself, gripping your hips tight.

“Mine,” he growls.

“All fucking mine.”

Your forehead meeting his, both your breaths shaky and you cling to him, body spent.

Both of you didn’t have the strength to separate the connection.

Your pussy still pulsing around his softening cock that was filling you, grounding you both in this moment.

You lay there tangled together.

Both your bodies slick with cum and yet the room was filled with love.

“Always only yours, jungkook”

You murmur before your eyes fall closed.

۶ৎ

The room was filled with the smell of sex and sweat from your earlier intimacy and the sheets completely damp beneath you both.

jungkook's chest rose and fell steadily against your back, arms encircling you, one hand laying possessively across your stomach.

His fingers tracing small patterns that sent shivers across your skin.

You shifted slightly, turning in his arms to face him and the movement drew a low groan from his throat, his eyes fluttering open to meet yours.

His eyes were heavy with exhaustion, no hunger, that was present just a few moments ago, lips swollen from hours of kissing and he was still sweaty all over.

And you knew you probably look worse but he looked at you like you were the most beautiful woman in the world.

He always does.

The sight of him so close and so real after months of absence almost felt unreal.

It was like a dream.

Him beside you.

“Still awake, baby?”

He rumbles as his lips curve into a soft, sleepy smile, only reserved for you.

He reaches out, brushing a strand of hair from your face, fingers lingering on your cheek.

“Couldn’t sleep.” you murmur.

Your voice was shy now, a contrast to the boldness of your earlier actions and you ducked under his gaze, pressing your face into the crook of his neck.

He chuckled deeply.

“Don’t leave me again…” you breathe.

All the earlier giggles faded as a seriousness took over you, eyes glistening.

His arms tighten around you, pulling you impossibly closer, his hard chest pressing against your bare breasts and your oversensitive nipples grazing him still sent jolts of sparks through you.

“I’m not going anywhere.” he said fiercely.

“Not now. Not ever. You're stuck with me, babygirl.”

He pecks your nose, the action precious.

“I’ve waited too fucking long to be here with you and I’m finally home.”

The word “home” hit you and your throat tightened.

You tilted your head up, kissing him as you both tasted the salt and arousal from earlier doings.

He brought one of your thighs up, wrapping it around his waist, branding himself in you.

jungkook pulls back, eyes searching yours.

“Every day in that lonely fucking place. I thought of you… you kept me going.”

His hand slid up to cup your face and you felt the tremor in his touch.

“I’d go through it again if it means I get to be here with you.”

۶ৎ

The night stretched on with several positions and lots of whispered love confessions.

“I love you.”

He’d said with every thrust.

“So fucking much”

Your hands clutched his, fingers intertwining.

As dawn crept through the curtains, you lay together, bodies spent but your hearts full.

jungkook held you close and you smiled, body aching but sated as you rested against him.

“I’m back in your arms,” he whispers.

“And I’m never leaving you again.”

The night had been a desperate, hungry reunion as you both made up for all the lost time.

And now as you drifted to sleep in his arms, the world outside faded, leaving only the two of you.

Bound by love

And a promise of forever.

────

permanent taglist: @chaelvrx @wintaemoonjen @slutology00 @furioustrashlover @kelsyx33 @kooever @svnbangtansworld @xcviis @snuglymalicioussea @nellbyy @minewlove @l4yl44 @captainengineer-trixie @cristy-101 @fangirl-coco-goddess @lachesismoonmist @angelfuzzy2 @levisnumber1 @angelsdecalcomania @magicalnachocreator @hynjamkook @koodollylvr @withmuchluv-tannie @istarag @elmarimochi9513 @wtfanu @kooklv @endlesslysassy @nanisblogg @tatamicc @mokaliciouss @armybomb-infires @jiniminisworld @seokjinthescientist @gyeomibearr @xmiaacxio @n0chuprettykook @gizaspicebag @aaclariww @dollytingz @pokalunolino @bunnies-only @cuntygguk @avawants2havefun

[jincapableoflove]

A Jar Full of Us | one-shot

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: best friend! jungkook, best friend! reader, college! au, unrequited love (?), idiots to lovers, best friends to ??? to lovers, angst, fluff, implied smut.

Summary: You never meant for him to find them. Hundred little confessions, folded away, never meant to be read. But now, they’re in his hands. And Jungkook, your best friend, knows everything. But he doesn’t say a word. He just watches you, with that same unreadable expression, like he’s waiting for something. And this Valentine’s Day, you might just have to find out what.

Inspired by: To All the Boys I've Loved Before

Word count: 10.2K+

Warnings: arguments, jungkook is a jerk, misunderstandings (a lottt of it), angstttt, reader and jk are huge idiots, mutual pining, implied smut (its not too detailed so that the story maintains the emotional connectivity), romantic intimacy, tooth-rotting fluff.

MOODBOARD

A/N: HERE IT ISSS! this is the longest fic ive written! tysm for all the support yall have given me in the teaser of this fic. i put out a taglist thinking no one would actually want to be a part of it but so many of yall asked to be tagged 😭 im so grateful! tysm i hope you enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writng it. lmk ur thoughts abt it after u read too <3 ALSO HAPPY VALENTINES DAYYY (someone date me pls)

The door clicks shut behind you as you step into the dorm, kicking off your shoes with a tired sigh. The evening air still clings to your skin, carrying traces of laughter and the lingering warmth of Jungkook’s presence.

It had been another perfect night, one filled with inside jokes, stolen bites of each other’s food, and his usual exasperated attempts to get you to study.

Joy, your roommate, is nowhere in sight, giving you the solitude you need. You don’t hesitate. Your steps are purposeful as you cross the room, crouching down beside your bed. With practiced ease, you reach under the frame, fingers brushing against the familiar surface of a small pink, heart-shaped box. You pull it out carefully, as if it were a fragile secret, and place it on your lap.

A soft breath escapes you as you grab a nearby pen and a book, neatly tearing out a tiny slip of paper. The motion is second nature now. Without even thinking, you let your emotions spill onto the paper, crafting a fleeting moment into something permanent.

Tonight’s memory is simple, but it still tugs at your heart. Jungkook had sent you another blurry picture of the moon, captioned with a casual, “Looks kinda pretty, right?” He knew how much you loved the moon how it fascinated you in a way you could never quite put into words. And he had remembered. Of course, he had remembered.

A fond smile tugs at your lips as you write:

Jungkook remembers the little things.

Once the ink dries, you fold the note with care and add it to the collection. The box is almost full now, brimming with countless tiny confessions, whispers of feelings you’ve never had the courage to say aloud. A hundred little moments, a hundred little thoughts, all dedicated to the boy who had unknowingly stolen your heart.

Jungkook.

Jungkook, your best friend, who always saves you the last bite of his food, even when it’s his favorite. Jungkook, who sends you blurry pictures of the moon just because he knows you love them. Jungkook, who insists on studying with you, despite his major being entirely different from yours, just so he can make sure you actually open a book instead of procrastinating.

This little tradition of yours had started as a joke. One night, after an especially soft moment where Jungkook had wordlessly placed his hoodie over your head because you were shivering, you had scribbled on a piece of paper: Jungkook is warmer than the sun.

You had smiled to yourself as you rolled up the paper and dropped it into the box. It had felt oddly nice to preserve that moment, capturing the feeling of it in something tangible. So you did it again. And again. And again.

Until, one day, you realized you had written over a hundred of them.

You hadn’t meant to fall in love. And you certainly hadn’t planned to confess.

But each tiny slip of paper holds a truth your heart refuses to say aloud.

And you're going to keep it a secret forever.

You met Jungkook almost three years ago, during freshman year. The first time you met him, he had been infuriatingly kind.

You had been struggling under the weight of a precariously tall stack of books, barely able to see over them, when suddenly, a few disappeared from the top. Startled, you looked up to see Jungkook grinning at you, effortlessly holding the books you had nearly dropped.

"You looked like you were about to tip over," he teased, his dark eyes twinkling with amusement.

With a playful huff, you had responded, "Maybe I wanted it to tip over."

Jungkook had only laughed, shaking his head. "I'll catch you next time," he had promised.

That night, you had written a tiny note and slipped it into your box: He wants to catch me when I fall, even without me asking.

From that moment on, your friendship grew in ways you hadn’t even noticed at first. Midnight walks and late night study sessions became routine, pulling you closer together with every shared moment. What had started as swapping notes for the one class you had together turned into sharing secrets. Somewhere along the way, before you even realized it, Jungkook had become your favorite person.

The box was almost full now.

You had written so many things over the years, each note capturing a small piece of him, a fragment of your feelings. Some were simple observations:

Jungkook frowns when he eats something delicious.

His hair is always a mess in the mornings. He hates it, but I love it.

His eyes smile before his lips do.

But one night, you had written something different. Something deeper. Something that felt like the truest thing you had ever put to paper.

I love him.

The moment the ink dried, panic had set in. You had almost torn it up, almost removed it from the box as if keeping it there would somehow make it real. But in the end, you had left it. Because the box was safe. No one was going to see it.

Especially not Jungkook.

One afternoon, you came back from your classes, ready to relax and unwind before the stress of exams fully set in. You had been looking forward to a quiet evening, maybe even a movie marathon with Jungkook to take your mind off things for a while.

But the moment you stepped into your dorm, you felt something was off.

Joy was sitting on the couch, sipping her coffee, her expression smug... too smug. A knowing smirk curled at the corners of her lips as she watched you walk in, and instantly, your stomach twisted with unease.

You narrowed your eyes. "What did you do?"

"I did you a favor," she said casually, taking another slow sip of her coffee.

A cold shiver ran down your spine. "What favor?" you asked, dread creeping into your voice.

Joy grinned. "I found that little cute box of yours."

Your heart stopped. "What?"

"Don't look at me like that," she waved a hand dismissively, as if what she was about to say wasn’t about to shatter your entire world. "It was just sitting there collecting dust, and I thought—what a perfect Valentine's Day gift for Jungkook. So…I wrapped it up and dropped it off at his place."

Silence.

A deafening, all-consuming silence as her words echoed in your head.

"You WHAT?!"

Your entire body froze in place, your breath catching in your throat as horror washed over you in waves. Your chest felt tight, your pulse roaring in your ears.

Joy merely raised an eyebrow, seemingly unbothered by the sheer panic on your face. "You're welcome," she said cheekily before promptly sprinting out of the room for her life.

But you couldn’t chase after her. You couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think past the ringing in your ears.

No. No. No.

This couldn't be happening.

Still desperate to deny the possibility, you dropped to your knees and scrambled to check under your bed, your hands shaking as you reached into the familiar space where you had hidden the box for years.

Empty.

It was gone.

The tiny wooden box that held a hundred little moments, a hundred little secrets—your secrets—was gone.

And now it was in Jungkook's hands.

Of all people… Jungkook.

Jungkook lived in an apartment a little further away from your dorm. The second the realization hit, you bolted out the door without a second thought, heart pounding so hard it nearly drowned out the sound of your footsteps against the pavement.

Your plan was simple. Get to his apartment before he did. You knew his habits well enough to guess that he was probably grabbing a late lunch at that fast-food place near campus. If luck was on your side, you still had time.

He hadn’t seen it yet.

He couldn’t have seen it yet.

As you ran, your mind spiralled into chaos, bombarding you with every possible scenario, each one worse than the last.

What if he had already opened it?

What if he read through every single note?

What if he found the one that said I love him?

Your stomach twisted painfully at the thought.

Jungkook was your best friend.

He was your person.

And now, he might know that you wanted to be more than just friends.

The mere thought made your chest tighten as memories of the two of you flashed through your mind. The times you spent together at the arcade, the countless movie nights, the time you and Jungkook had crashed Jimin’s birthday party with a ridiculous amount of booze.

And then…there was that moment.

The moment you almost confessed.

"I wish I could find someone who truly understood me," he had said one night, his voice softer than usual, lost in thought.

And you had almost said it. The words had been on the tip of your tongue, so painfully close—"I do."

But you swallowed them down.

Because what if he didn’t feel the same way? What if saying those words ruined everything?

And now, thanks to Joy, you didn’t have a choice anymore. The truth was out there, sitting in a neatly wrapped box in Jungkook’s apartment.

The thought of his reaction sent your mind into overdrive.

Would he laugh?

Would he think it was weird?

Would he—

Would he reject you?

No. No. No.

You shook your head violently as you rounded the corner, lungs burning from the sprint. You’re going to get there before he does. You’re going to take the box back, and he’s never going to know about it.

That was the plan.

It had to work.

As soon as you reached Jungkook’s apartment building, you barely paused to catch your breath. Your legs ached from running, but panic kept you moving. You made a beeline for the mailbox section in the lobby, frantically scanning the names, searching for his.

Box 109.

You yanked it open.

Empty.

Your stomach sank.

Maybe his roommate took it upstairs? Yeah. That had to be it. Maybe it was sitting untouched on the kitchen counter, still wrapped, still safe, still unseen.

You latched onto that sliver of hope as you rushed up the stairs two at a time, unwilling to wait for the elevator. By the time you reached his floor, your hands were shaking. You raised a fist and knocked on the door, urgency making your knuckles sting.

No response.

You knocked again, harder this time.

Then, finally, you heard shuffling from inside. A few footsteps. The creak of the floorboards. A pause.

The door swung open.

And there he was.

Jungkook.

Standing right in front of you, framed in the dim light of his apartment, wearing an oversized grey hoodie that draped over his frame in a way that shouldn't have been so unfairly attractive. His dark hair was slightly damp, messy from a shower, strands falling into his eyes. His lips were parted in surprise, his brows slightly furrowed, and the expression on his face—confused yet soft, dangerously soft—made your already erratic heartbeat lurch violently.

But then, your gaze dropped to his hands.

And the world stopped.

The box.

The open box.

Your box.

Your secret, sacred collection of unsent confessions, of words meant only for the safety of your own solitude. The pieces of your heart you had never dared to show him.

You felt like you were going to be sick.

No, no, no, no—

"You—" You gasped, barely able to form words, chest rising and falling rapidly as you fought for air. "You opened it?"

Jungkook blinked, holding the box loosely in one hand, fingers curled around the edges as if he had been going through its contents just moments ago. He tilted his head, his expression unreadable.

"Yeah," he said simply, as if the weight of the universe hadn’t just come crashing down on you.

Oh. Oh no.

Your legs wobbled. You had to physically stop yourself from collapsing right there in front of him.

His gaze flickered downward, and you followed it instinctively. In his other hand, he held one of the notes. One of your notes. The handwriting was unmistakably yours, a little smudged, a little rushed, but still legible.

He cleared his throat, then read aloud.

"I don’t know when it happened. But one day, he became my favorite person."

Silence.

It stretched on for what felt like an eternity.

You thought you might actually pass out.

"Jungkook, I—" Your voice cracked, but before you could even attempt to explain, he looked up and met your eyes.

And then, to your absolute horror—

He smiled.

Not a teasing smirk, not an awkward grimace, but a real, genuine, knowing smile. A little shy, a little amused, as if the weight of what he had just discovered didn’t terrify him nearly as much as it did you.

And then—oh god—he spoke again.

"So… do you still think my hair looks best when it’s messy?"

Your breath hitched.

Your brain went blank.

You wanted to scream.

The change was almost instant.

In the days that followed, Jungkook became… different.

Not in the way you had imagined, though.

You had been bracing yourself for a talk, a conversation where he’d tell you gently, maybe even apologetically, that he didn’t feel the same way. Or, at the very least, a moment of awkwardness before things slowly went back to normal.

But instead, Jungkook just… pulled away.

It started subtly at first. He stopped texting as much. The late-night calls that once lasted for hours dwindled into one-word replies and seen messages. The casual lunch meetups, the spontaneous arcade runs, the easy, natural way he used to gravitate towards you in a crowded room. all of it changed.

And yet, despite the distance, he never fully let you go.

Instead, he turned it into a joke.

Like today, when he leaned in far too close for comfort, during your shared class. His voice was low, teasing, the warmth of his breath fanning against your ear.

"So, I’m warmer than the sun, huh?"

You stiffened instantly, your hands tightening around your pen. He pulled back with a smirk, his dark eyes glittering with mischief as he watched your reaction unfold in real-time.

It was unbearable.

He kept doing it.

Whenever you tried to talk to him— really talk to him —he would either dodge the conversation entirely or turn it into something lighthearted, something unserious.

Like the time you finally found him alone, determined to just get it over with, to ask what had changed between you two. Before you could even get the words out, he cut you off with another one of those smirks, his voice laced with amusement.

"So I look best in black? Good to know."

And then he walked away.

That was when you finally got the message.

Jungkook had taken it as a joke.

He didn’t care about your feelings.

It was like the caring, affectionate boy you had known for years had vanished the moment your heart had been laid bare. Like now that the truth was out in the open, he didn’t know how to handle it so he chose to mock it instead.

And worst of all?

He was pulling away from you completely.

The time you used to spend together? Gone. He was hanging out with other people now, filling his days with anyone but you. And when you did manage to cross paths, he only acknowledged you through those insufferable little comments, those cruel reminders of the things you had never meant for him to see.

It hurt. More than you wanted to admit.

Because maybe you had hoped that if he knew how you felt…

He wouldn’t push you away like this.

The next week brought the on-campus career fair an event mandatory for all students. You weren’t particularly excited about it, but at least it was a distraction, something to keep your mind occupied.

Or so you thought.

Because that’s when you saw him.

And he wasn’t alone.

He was walking around with Hana, a junior from your college. They moved easily through the crowd, side by side, completely immersed in conversation. And then, to make things even worse... he laughed.

A real laugh. The kind that made his nose scrunch up and his eyes crinkle, the kind you hadn’t heard in what felt like forever.

Your stomach twisted.

You weren’t expecting him to make it this obvious.

If he wanted to reject you, fine. If he didn’t feel the same way, you could live with that. But did he really have to parade it around like this?

Maybe this was his way of sending a message. Maybe he wanted you to know, without actually having to say it out loud.

A silent rejection.

What a jerk.

These days, you barely have the motivation to attend classes. You go through the motions, waking up, dragging yourself to campus, sitting through lectures. But your mind isn’t really there.

Because no matter how hard you try to distract yourself, the brutal reality of rejection lingers like a shadow, following you everywhere you go.

Jungkook threw away your feelings like they meant nothing.

You should have expected it, right? You should have known this was how it would turn out.

Maybe you were never meant to be anything more than a friend to him. Maybe, the moment he realized you held deeper feelings for him, he got scared. Or worse, maybe he just didn’t care at all.

The thought makes your chest ache.

Jungkook has always been a romantic at heart. You’ve seen it in the way he talks about love, in the way he watches romance movies with a dreamy look in his eyes. But clearly, you were never part of that dream.

And now, because of your stupid feelings, you’ve ruined everything.

You used to be his best friend. The one he joked around with, the one he trusted, the one he leaned on.

But now?

Now he barely looks at you.

And if he does, it's only to throw some teasing remark your way like your feelings were some kind of joke.

The person you were most angry at was Joy.

Not Jungkook. Not yourself.

Joy.

Because none of this would have happened if she had just left that damn box alone.

That day after the box incident, the moment you stepped back into your dorm, she was there, lounging on the couch like nothing had happened. She glanced up as you walked in, a smirk already forming on her lips.

“I didn’t expect you to come back so early. I thought you guys would—” she wiggled her eyebrows—“get freaky after the whole confession, you know?”

She laughed, expecting you to groan or throw a pillow at her like usual.

But then she saw your face.

Her laughter faded. “Wait… what happened?”

You didn’t answer. You just walked past her and sank into the couch, staring at nothing, your mind still replaying every moment from earlier—Jungkook’s teasing, his smirk, his distance.

You heard Joy shuffle closer, her voice softer now. “I… I’m sorry. Did I send the gift too early? Did Jungkook not like it?”

You let out a hollow laugh. “Oh, no, he loved it.” You turned to her, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Thank you so much for your help, Joy.”

Her expression faltered. “Wait… what do you mean?”

You shook your head, exhaling sharply. “Jungkook probably thinks I’m pathetic now.”

Joy winced. She sat beside you on the couch, guilt written all over her face. “I— I really thought—” she hesitated, chewing on her lip. “I was so sure, though. That boy always had heart eyes for you.”

You let out a bitter chuckle. “Well, now you know he didn’t.”

Silence settled between you both.

And for the first time, Joy didn’t have anything to say.

The next time you see Jungkook, he’s with Hana again.

They’re standing by one of the campus notice boards, deep in conversation. You don’t mean to eavesdrop you’re not even sure why you stop but the moment you hear them talking, something in your gut tells you to listen.

Hana tilts her head, her voice low but clear. “Are you sure she won't find out?”

Jungkook sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know… Maybe it's better this way”

Your breath catches in your throat.

Your first instinct is denial maybe they’re not talking about you. Maybe it’s about someone else entirely. But deep down, you know.

As far as you’re aware, there isn’t another she in Jungkook’s life. Not before. Not when you were still close.

You’ve already been replaced.

Your chest aches as you piece it together. He doesn't want you to find out because he's probably in a relationship with Hana now. Because he doesn’t want to hurt you with a direct rejection, he thinks hiding his relationship with her is the kinder option.

It isn’t.

You swallow the lump in your throat and force yourself to step back, turning away from the scene before you can hear any more.

You decide then that no matter how much it hurts, no matter how pathetic it makes you feel, you can’t bear being apart from Jungkook.

Even if he doesn’t love you back.

Even if he only sees you as a friend.

Losing him completely? That’s not something you’re ready for. Maybe you never will be.

So, you do the only thing you can think of.

You wait for him after class.

Your heart pounds against your ribs as you watch the door, your hands clammy with nerves. When Jungkook finally steps out, your breath catches. He looks the same—same hoodie, same soft brown eyes—but everything feels different now.

Taking a deep breath, you step forward.

"I get it, okay?" you say, voice firm despite the way your throat tightens. "You don’t like me. And that’s fine. I hope she makes you happy."

Jungkook halts mid-step.

His jaw clenches. His fists curl at his sides.

"You don’t understand," he mutters.

"Then make me understand, Jungkook," you plead. You take a shaky breath, forcing yourself to keep going, even as your last shred of dignity slips through your fingers. "Can we still be friends, at least?"

Silence.

Jungkook doesn’t reply.

And somehow, that hurts more than rejection ever could.

There's a party happening, hosted by one of the biggest party animals on campus. Everyone is invited, and Joy insists that you go.

After much convincing, you finally give in. You've mended things with her and finally forgiven her. Maybe it wasn’t entirely her fault. Maybe you just needed someone to blame.

You decide to go, hoping for a distraction. Maybe the music, the drinks, and the endless chatter will help you forget, even if just for a night.

But you already know Jungkook will be there.

Probably Hana too.

And that's fine.

You'll just stay out of their way.

The party is in full swing when you arrive with loud music, flashing lights, bodies moving wildly on the dance floor, and the unmistakable smell of booze in the air. Bottles are being passed around, and the energy is electric.

A few friends from your classes spot you and pull you in, offering drinks. You take them all without hesitation, reaching for the strongest ones, letting the alcohol burn away the ache in your chest.

Jungkook is nowhere in sight.

Good. Maybe he didn’t come. Maybe you can actually enjoy yourself tonight.

With the alcohol settling in, your limbs feel lighter, your mind a little hazy. You dance to the outdated playlist blaring through the speakers, laugh with strangers, and let yourself let go just for a while.

But after some time, it all feels like too much. The heat, the noise, the overwhelming buzz in your veins. You slip away from the crowd and make your way to the rooftop, breathing in the crisp night air, letting it cool your flushed skin.

And then you sense someone else's presence.

You turn, your head spinning slightly, and there he is.

Jungkook.

You blink, wondering if you're imagining him, but his gaze is fixed on you, a slight furrow between his brows. There's something like concern in his expression as he watches you, taking in your drunken state.

Your heart stumbles in your chest.

The alcohol makes everything feel lighter, your body, your thoughts, your inhibitions. So when you see Jungkook standing there, looking at you with that unreadable expression, the words just spill out before you can stop them.

“I liked you, you know,” you mumble, swaying slightly. “But now I realize… I was just wasting my time.”

Jungkook doesn’t react. No apology, no denial, not even a flicker of emotion across his face.

He just exhales softly, shoving his hands into his pockets. “You’ll be fine,” he says simply, then turns on his heel and walks away.

Just like that.

The cool night air suddenly feels suffocating, the weight in your chest heavier than ever. You watch his retreating figure, your heart shattering all over again.

The next morning, you wake up with the nastiest headache ever. Your head throbs, your mouth is dry, and your body feels like it’s been wrung out. You groan, forcing yourself to sit up as the hazy memories from last night slowly piece themselves together.

Jungkook. The rooftop. The way he just… walked away like he didn’t care.

You shake the thought from your mind, dragging yourself out of bed. There’s no point dwelling on it. Your exams are approaching, and you need to focus.

Deciding to get some studying done, you head to the library. The quiet atmosphere should help clear your head or at least distract you from the mess that is your life.

But the moment you step inside, your breath catches.

Jungkook is sitting at the table you both used to frequent, completely absorbed in scribbling something into a notebook. For a second, you consider turning around, but then something catches your eye.

He rips out a small piece of paper, folds it neatly, and without hesitation, slips it into a glass jar sitting beside him.

Your heart clenches.

Is it for Hana?

You don’t stick around to find out. Before Jungkook can notice you, you turn on your heel and walk away.

February 10th. Your birthday.

You wake up with a small flicker of hope. Maybe today would be different. Maybe Jungkook had been ignoring you all this time because he was planning something, some kind of surprise. That had to be it, right?

Surely.

So you wait.

By 3 PM, your phone is filled with messages from friends, family, even distant relatives reaching out to wish you. Everyone but Jungkook.

Not even a single text.

The hope that had carried you through the day starts to crumble, replaced by a hollow ache in your chest. You don’t go to class. What’s the point? This might just be the worst birthday ever.

That’s when Joy bursts into your room with a grin.

"You got a package!" she announces, holding out a neatly wrapped box.

Your heart leaps.

Jungkook?

You rush over, fingers fumbling as you tear open the wrapping, only for your stomach to drop.

It’s from your parents.

Disappointment washes over you, but you push it aside. They went through the trouble of sending you something, and you should be grateful. You take a deep breath, forcing a smile as you pick up your phone and call them.

"Thank you," you say, voice steady. Because at least someone remembered.

There was still time.

It was only evening plenty of hours left before midnight. Jungkook would surely text before then. He had to.

Joy, noticing your gloomy mood, tries to lift your spirits. "Come on, let’s go out drinking. Have some fun, at least for your birthday."

But you shake your head. "I’m not in the mood."

She sighs, clearly frustrated but doesn’t push you. Instead, she flops onto your bed, staring at the ceiling. "I hate this," she mutters. "I hate seeing you like this. And I hate him for treating you this way."

Her voice is laced with anger, but there’s something else there too—guilt.

Because deep down, Joy still blames herself.

If she hadn’t sent that gift early, if she hadn’t tried to play cupid, maybe things wouldn’t have turned out this way. Maybe you wouldn’t be spending your birthday like this waiting for a boy who might never come around.

Jungkook didn’t text that day.

He forgot your birthday.

You waited all day, checking your phone every few minutes, hoping for a message that never came. Midnight passed, and still nothing.

The realization settles deep in your chest, heavier than you expected. You feel pathetic.

Pathetic for hoping. Pathetic for waiting. Pathetic for still caring.

It’s the day before Valentine’s Day.

You can’t afford to miss any more classes. You haven’t stepped foot on campus since your birthday, but today, you decide to go.

You have no motivation to see or talk to anyone. You tell yourself that you’ll just quietly attend your classes and head straight back home. No distractions. No unnecessary interactions.

But as soon as you reach campus, you notice a crowd gathering. There’s some kind of matchmaking event happening for Valentine’s Day tomorrow.

Great. Just great.

Everything about it feels like the universe is mocking you, rubbing salt on an already raw wound. Heart-shaped decorations, pink confetti floating in the air, and couples laughing completely oblivious to how suffocating it feels for you.

You try to move past the crowd, but suddenly, someone pushes forward, and you get caught in the chaos. You stumble, losing your balance and bracing for impact—

But you don’t hit the ground.

Because Jungkook catches you.

His hands grip your arms, steadying you out of instinct. His touch is firm and warm, familiar in a way that makes your chest ache.

For the first time in days, you look up at him. And for the first time in days, he looks right back at you.

He doesn’t let go of you immediately.

His grip stays firm, his fingers pressing into your arms like he’s grounding himself, like he’s hesitating. His throat bobs as he swallows hard, his lips parting slightly like he’s about to say something.

The music playing in the background fades into a distant hum. Everything around you slows. The laughter, the chatter, the festival lights it all blurs.

All that’s left is him.

Still holding you.

Your voice barely comes out, a whisper against the space between you.

“Do you even care, Jungkook?”

His hands tighten for a fraction of a second. His jaw clenches. And for a brief, fleeting moment, you think you see something something raw and unspoken flash through his eyes.

But then, like a switch flipping, he lets go.

So fast that you nearly stumble again.

"No, Y/N. I don’t."

His words cut through the air, sharp and merciless.

Then he turns. Walks away.

And you’re left standing there, alone in the middle of a festival meant for love.

This is it.

This is your answer.

Jungkook has made his choice.

And now, it’s time for you to make yours.

You have to move on.

That night, you decide. Jungkook was never meant to be yours.

It’s a painful truth, one you’ve been avoiding, but tonight, you accept it.

Needing a distraction, you start clearing out your closet, pulling out old clothes, forgotten trinkets, anything to keep your hands busy. That’s when you see it.

The pink heart-shaped box.

Your breath hitches.

You had snatched it from his hands that day, barely able to meet his gaze before bolting out of his apartment and driving straight back to your dorm. You had shoved it deep into your closet, hoping that if you buried it away, you could bury your feelings too.

For a moment, you consider throwing it away. What’s the point of holding onto it now? Jungkook knows. He read the notes, saw every piece of your heart laid bare. And in the end, it changed nothing.

Your fingers tremble as you lift the lid.

One by one, you pull out the little folded papers, unfolding memories you once held so close.

"I don’t know when it happened, but one day, he became my favourite person."

"His laugh is my favorite sound."

"I wish he knew how much he means to me."

Tears blur your vision.

You never wanted him to know.

Because you never wanted to lose him.

And now, you have.

The weight of it crashes over you all at once, and before you can stop it, the tears spill over, hot and relentless.

You clutch the notes to your chest as silent sobs wrack your body.

You’ve been holding the pain in for too long.

So tonight, you let the dams break.

And you cry yourself to sleep.

It’s Valentine’s Day.

You feel miserable.

Forget having a Valentine this year, you don’t even have a best friend anymore.

So you stay in bed all day, buried under the covers, refusing to acknowledge the world outside.

Your mind drifts, unbidden, to last year’s Valentine’s Day.

You and Jungkook had gone out for dinner not as lovers, not as anything more than friends, just two people who didn’t have dates. You remember how he laughed at the terrible restaurant music, how he stole fries from your plate like they were his.

You miss it.

No—wait. You shouldn’t be thinking about him.

Shaking off the thought, you grab your Nintendo Switch and start playing, trying to distract yourself.

Then the doorbell rings.

You ignore it. Joy is probably home she’ll get it.

But it rings again.

What is Joy doing?

Then it hits you that she probably stayed over at her boyfriend’s place last night.

With a groan, you push off the covers and make your way to the door. You swing it open, ready to shoo away whoever it is—

But there’s no one there.

Your gaze drops to the ground.

And then you see it.

A singular jar, placed carefully on the doormat.

You stare at the jar, a strange sense of familiarity creeping in, but you can’t quite place it.

Where have you seen something like this before?

Your mind scrambles for an answer, flipping through memories like pages in a book, but nothing surfaces.

With hesitant fingers, you reach down and pick it up, feeling the cool glass against your palm. It’s heavier than you expected.

That’s when you notice the writing on the lid, scrawled in red marker.

"To Y/N."

Your heart stutters.

You blink, trying to steady your breath, but the moment feels unreal—like you’ve stepped into a dream.

It’s only then that you notice the jar is filled with tiny rolled-up notes, crammed inside like secrets waiting to be unraveled.

Your mind starts spiraling.

What is this? Who left it? Why does it have your name?

Your hands tremble as you twist the lid open, the slight pop of the seal echoing in the silence.

You reach inside, fingers brushing against the countless little slips of paper.

With bated breath, you pull one out.

You carefully unroll it, eyes scanning the words scribbled in rushed, familiar handwriting.

"I lied."

That’s all it says.

Two words.

Your breath catches in your throat as your eyes trace the messy yet unmistakable handwriting.

Jungkook.

Your fingers tighten around the note as your pulse quickens.

It’s his.

The realization slams into you with a force that leaves you momentarily stunned.

Your breath turns shallow as the memory crashes into you—

Yesterday.

The crowd. The music. The overwhelming blur of people around you.

You had stumbled, nearly falling, only for Jungkook to catch you. For a fleeting moment, he held you close. His grip was firm, his expression unreadable.

You had searched his face, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Do you even care, Jungkook?"

You had wanted him to say yes. Even a little. Anything to make the ache in your chest feel less unbearable.

But instead—

"No, Y/N. I don’t."

His words had cut deeper than you ever thought possible.

And then he had let go. So fast, like touching you had burned him. Like you meant nothing at all.

You remember the way your heart had cracked, the way he had disappeared into the sea of people, leaving you stranded in the middle of a festival meant for love.

But now... Now you stand here, gripping a jar full of his words.

"I lied."

Your hands fumble as you reach into the jar again, pulling out another note.

Unrolling it with shaky fingers, you read:

"I thought if I pushed you away, it’d be easier for you to move on. But the truth is, I don’t want you to."

A sharp pang strikes your chest.

Your mind reels, and suddenly, you're back at the rooftop party—drunk, vulnerable, spilling your heart out in slurred words.

“I liked you, you know? But now I realize I was just wasting my time.”

Jungkook had stood there, silent, unreadable, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

No apology. No denial. Nothing.

And then, just as effortlessly, he had turned away.

"You'll be fine," he'd said before walking off, leaving you alone in the cold night.

The memory burns like an open wound, and yet, here you are, standing in your doorway, holding the truth he should have told you that night in the palm of your hands.

Your fingers tremble as you pull out the next note.

"I missed your birthday on purpose because I wanted to give you something that lasts longer than a text."

Your breath hitches.

He didn’t forget?

He chose not to text?

A bitter chuckle escapes your lips, but it fades just as quickly as the weight of his words settles in.

You reach into the jar again, pulling out another note, heart pounding against your ribs.

What you didn’t know was that Jungkook had spent hours writing your birthday note.

He had sat at his desk that night, a dozen crumpled papers around him, rewriting the same message over and over, never satisfied. His hands had been shaky when he finally folded the note and slipped it into the jar.

Because words were permanent.

Because he was afraid.

Because deep down, he knew that if he told you how much you really meant to him, he wouldn’t be able to push you away anymore.

And that terrified him.

Your grip on the jar tightens as you pull out the next note.

"I was scared you’d see me in the library that day. And you did. I almost stopped writing. But I wanted to finish this for you."

Your breath catches in your throat as a memory rushes back—

The library.

That afternoon, when you had finally dragged yourself back to campus to study for your exams, you had seen him sitting at your usual table, scribbling something into his notebook.

At the time, you thought nothing of it until you watched him tear out a tiny slip of paper and slip it into a jar.

A jar.

The very same one you now hold in your trembling hands.

Back then, you had turned away, assuming it was for Hana.

But it wasn’t.

It was for you.

Every note in this jar was for you.

Your vision blurs as you stare down at the tiny rolled-up messages still waiting to be read.

He had been writing to you all along.

By the time you reach the last few notes, your hands are trembling. Maybe you can’t even read them through the tears clouding your vision. The weight of all those misunderstandings, every ignored confession, every painful silence, every moment you thought he didn’t care, crashes down on you all at once.

Your breath is uneven as you unroll another slip of paper.

"You thought I didn’t care. But I did. I always did."

A sob escapes your lips, the ache in your chest unbearable.

You clutch the jar against you like it’s the most precious thing you’ve ever held because it is. Because it’s him.

Every unspoken word. Every hidden feeling. Every truth he was too afraid to say aloud.

And now, you finally know.

Your breath catches as you reach the bottom of the jar, realizing the significance there are exactly 100 notes, just like the box you once gave him.

With shaky hands, you pull out the 99th note.

“I was always bad at saying things out loud. So I wrote them instead. I just hope it’s not too late for you to read them.”

Your chest tightens.

You take a deep breath and reach for the last note, your fingers trembling. Slowly, you unroll it, heart pounding in your ears.

“Y/N, will you be my Valentine?”

The paper almost slips from your fingers as your vision blurs with fresh tears. A shaky laugh escapes your lips, somewhere between disbelief and overwhelming emotion.

After everything, after all the silence, the pain, the misunderstandings he’s finally saying it.

And suddenly, all that matters is what you’ll do next.

The moment the words register, you don’t think.

The jar nearly slips from your grasp as you scramble to your feet, your heartbeat hammering louder than the thoughts racing through your mind. Jungkook. He couldn’t have gone far he must have just dropped it off.

You fling the door open, barefoot, barely even stopping to grab your keys. The cold air bites at your skin, but you don’t care. You sprint down the stairs, nearly stumbling in your rush to get outside.

Your eyes dart wildly around the street, your breath coming out in frantic puffs. Where is he?

Then, you see him.

A few feet away, Jungkook is walking slowly, hands in his pockets, head low like he’s already bracing for disappointment. Like he’s already convinced you won’t come after him.

But you do.

“Jungkook!”

He freezes.

You don’t stop running until you’re right in front of him, breathless, clutching the jar close to your chest like it’s the only thing anchoring you to the moment.

His eyes widen when he sees you messy hair, no shoes, trembling hands still gripping his gift like it’s the most important thing in the world.

You swallow hard, voice shaking. “Did you mean it?”

Jungkook looks at you for a long moment, the night stretching between you like a fragile thread.

Then, barely above a whisper, “Yeah.”

Your chest heaves, breath uneven, voice shaking as you clutch the jar tighter.

"You absolute jerk." Your voice wavers, but the anger, the hurt, the sheer weight of everything he’s put you through spills out in every word. "You sat there, letting me think I meant nothing to you. And the whole time, you were—" You shake the jar, almost laughing in disbelief. "—writing these?"

Jungkook doesn’t answer. He just stands there, hands stuffed in his pockets, jaw tight, like he’s bracing himself for whatever you’re about to say next.

"You could’ve just told me, Jungkook. You could’ve just—" You pause, gripping the jar like it’s the only thing holding you together. "Why? Why lie to me?"

He exhales sharply, his voice rough, like he’s been holding it in for too long.

"Because I was a coward."

You blink. You weren’t expecting him to admit it so easily.

Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, looking away. "I thought pushing you away was the right thing to do. If I let you think I didn’t care, maybe you’d move on. Maybe you’d find someone who wouldn’t hurt you like I did."

Your throat tightens. Your fingers dig into the glass of the jar. "You were the one hurting me, Jungkook."

His eyes finally meet yours, and the weight of them almost knocks the air from your lungs. He looks wrecked.

"I know." His voice is barely above a whisper.

"Then why?" Your voice trembles, frustration bubbling over. "Why did you let me think I was chasing something that wasn’t even there?"

His jaw clenches, and for a second, he doesn’t answer. But then, his voice comes, low and raw.

"Because I was afraid you’d realize you deserved better."

Silence settles between you. A silence so thick it presses against your chest, making it hard to breathe.

You stare at him, your vision blurring. You should walk away. You should scream, cry, or do anything. But instead, you do the only thing you can think of.

You reach into the jar, grab a note at random, and shove it into his hand. "Read it."

Jungkook hesitates. Then, slowly, he unfolds the paper. His fingers tremble as he reads the words he once wrote.

"If I had been braver, I would’ve told you every single day how much you meant to me."

He sucks in a sharp breath, gripping the paper like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. His eyes flick back up to yours, burning with something you can’t quite name.

"Say it now," you whisper.

Jungkook's breath catches. His grip on the note tightens like it’s the only thing keeping him together.

You wait. Trembling, heart pounding, eyes locked onto his. Daring him to finally, finally say it.

He exhales shakily. His voice is low, rough like it hurts to speak, but he does anyway.

"Y/N…"

You don’t look away. Don’t let him run from this.

His throat bobs. His hand curls into a fist at his side, then slowly unclenches.

"I love you."

A sharp inhale cuts through you. Even though you were waiting for it, the words hit like a tidal wave.

Jungkook shakes his head, almost laughing, but there’s no humor in it just raw, aching regret.

"I loved you then. I love you now. And I don’t think there’s a single version of me that won’t love you."

Your vision blurs, the weight of everything pressing down on you all at once.

"Then why—" your voice cracks, "—why did you let me think you didn’t?"

Jungkook exhales sharply, raking a hand through his hair. His face twists with something close to pain.

"Because I was scared." His voice is barely above a whisper. "Scared that if I let myself have you, I’d ruin you. Scared that you’d wake up one day and realize I wasn’t worth it."

Your hands clench at your sides. "You don’t get to decide that for me."

He nods. Swallows hard. Takes a step closer.

"I know." His voice is softer now. "And if I could go back, I’d do it all differently. But I can’t. All I can do is stand here and tell you—"

Your lips crash into his, years of longing and heartbreak unraveling in a single, desperate moment. Your fingers fist into his jacket, pulling him closer, closing the distance like you’ve been waiting forever. Because you have.

Jungkook catches you. His arms wind tight around your waist, grounding you, anchoring you like he’s afraid you’ll slip away again. His grip is firm, unyielding, as if holding you is the only thing that makes sense anymore.

The kiss isn’t soft it’s frantic, raw, filled with all the words you never got to say. It’s a confession, an apology, a plea. His lips move against yours with urgency, pouring everything into it, like he’s trying to make up for every second he spent pushing you away.

Jungkook tilts his head, deepening the kiss, and a shiver runs through you as his fingers tangle into your hair, tugging just enough to make your breath hitch. His other hand spreads against your back, pressing you impossibly closer, like even this isn’t enough, like he’d fuse you together if he could.

You melt. Every wall you built, every ounce of anger, every misunderstanding crumbling, dissolving into the heat of him. The way he kisses you feels like an answer to a question you didn’t know you were asking. Like a promise.

When you finally pull apart, neither of you lets go.

Jungkook rests his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours, still uneven, still shaken. His hands remain on your waist like he’s afraid that the second he lets go, this will all disappear.

Your fingers stay curled in his shirt, gripping the fabric like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

His voice is raw when he finally speaks, barely more than a whisper. “I don’t deserve you.”

You exhale, shaking your head, the weight of everything still pressing against your chest. Your voice is quiet, but steady. “Then spend every day proving that you do.”

Jungkook lets out a soft laugh one that sounds broken and real, like he can’t believe he’s still allowed to have this moment with you.

“Deal,” he murmurs.

And then he kisses you again.

The door barely clicks shut before Jungkook is on you again, his hands framing your face as his lips crash into yours. There’s no hesitation now, no careful restraint only heat, only the raw, aching need that’s been simmering between you for far too long.

His body presses against yours, pushing you back into the door, and you gasp against his lips. He swallows the sound, deepening the kiss, his tongue sweeping over yours with slow, deliberate intent. He tastes like something addictive like want, like longing, like the kind of hunger that makes your stomach tighten and your knees go weak.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, needing him closer. His hands roam down, slipping under the hem of your shirt, fingertips skimming along your bare skin. His touch is scorching, leaving a trail of fire wherever he moves. He pauses, his breath ragged, lips barely brushing yours.

"Tell me to stop," he murmurs, voice rough, uneven.

You shake your head, tilting your chin up until your lips ghost over his again. "I don’t want you to stop."

The words break something inside him.

His mouth crashes onto yours again, hungrier this time, more desperate. His hands slide up your back, pulling you flush against him, and you can feel the hard lines of his body, the way his chest rises and falls unsteadily against yours. One hand grips your waist, fingers digging in just enough to make you shudder, while the other slides lower, gripping your thigh and hitching it up against his hip.

A quiet moan escapes you at the feeling, and he groans in response, pressing harder into you. His lips leave yours, trailing a path down your jaw, to the sensitive spot beneath your ear, where he lingers. His teeth scrape lightly against your skin before he soothes it with his tongue, sucking gently, enough to make you arch into him, enough to make your breath hitch.

"Jungkook—" His name leaves your lips in a breathless whisper, and he exhales sharply against your skin, like the sound is enough to undo him.

His grip tightens as he lifts you effortlessly, hands settling under your thighs. Instinct takes over, and your legs wrap around his waist as he carries you across the room. He lays you down on the bed with care, but there’s nothing careful about the way he follows you down, covering your body with his own.

He hovers above you, his breath warm against your lips, his dark eyes searching yours. His thumb brushes over your cheek, then lower, tracing the curve of your bottom lip, his touch unbearably light.

"You’re sure?" he whispers, voice thick with something heady.

Your only answer is a whispered "Yes," breathless, certain.

Something shifts in him at your words. His lips find yours again, but this time, he takes his time exploring, savoring, as if he wants to memorize every inch of you. His kisses trail downward, along the curve of your neck, across your collarbone, his mouth mapping out a path of heat and sensation. His hands move with just as much purpose, slipping under fabric, pushing it aside, fingers tracing bare skin with an intimacy that makes your pulse stutter.

Every brush of his lips, every slow, deliberate touch sends waves of electricity through you, igniting something deep and primal. Clothes are discarded in slow, teasing movements, the heat between you building with every layer that falls away.

His lips ghost over your shoulder, down your arm, over the curve of your breasts, his breath hot and uneven. He watches you, eyes dark with something intense, something almost reverent, as his fingers trace slow, lazy patterns along your bare skin.

"You’re so beautiful," he murmurs, voice filled with something deeper than desire.

You reach for him, pulling him back up, needing his mouth on yours again, needing more. He obliges, kissing you fiercely, like he never wants to stop, like this moment has been waiting to happen for far too long.

His hands explore moving towards your heat, his touch reverent yet possessive, like he’s memorizing every inch of you, like he’s making up for all the lost time. You arch into him, breath hitching, hands gripping onto his shoulders as heat coils low in your stomach.

"Jungkook," you whisper, his name falling from your lips like a plea.

His breath catches, and he exhales shakily. "I’ve got you," he murmurs against your skin, voice barely above a whisper. "I’m right here."

And then there’s no more talking only movement, only passion, only the feeling of finally, finally being exactly where you both belong.

The air is thick with warmth, bodies tangled beneath the sheets, hearts pounding in tandem as the last echoes of your shared breaths settle between you. The world outside might still be turning, but in this moment, it doesn’t exist. It’s just you and him, skin against skin, the weight of what just happened pressing down like the softest, heaviest thing in the world.

Your body is spent, muscles trembling faintly from the aftershocks, but you don’t move. You can’t.

Jungkook is still holding you. One arm draped lazily around your waist, the other tracing absentminded patterns against your back. His touch is slow, soothing, like he’s still trying to convince himself you’re real. Like if he lets go, you might slip away.

You stay like that for a while, chests rising and falling in sync, your head resting just above his heart. The rhythm of it is steady now, no longer racing like it had been just moments ago. Still, there’s a softness to it, an unspoken question lingering in the quiet space between you.

It’s you who finally breaks it.

“So…” You shift slightly, fingers trailing absentmindedly along his chest. “Hana knew about the jar?”

His hand stills for the briefest moment before he exhales a small, breathy laugh. His voice is thick with exhaustion, but there’s amusement in it too.

“She didn’t just know about it.” His fingers resume their slow, idle circles against your bare skin. “It was her idea.”

You blink. “…What?”

Jungkook hums in confirmation, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “Yeah. She was the one who told me to do it—to fill a jar with everything I wanted to say but couldn’t.” He pauses, then adds, “She also threatened to expose me if I didn’t.”

You scoff, though you can’t help the warmth blooming in your chest. “So let me get this straight… You couldn’t tell me how you felt, but you told Hana?”

Jungkook turns his head slightly to look at you, eyes still heavy with sleep, but the amusement in them is undeniable. “I didn’t tell her. She just… figured it out.”

Of course, she did.

You huff, feigning annoyance, but your fingers betray you, tracing soft, aimless patterns along his collarbone. “Still. She knew before I did.”

Jungkook grins, rolling onto his side to face you fully. One hand slips beneath the sheets, finding your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you. His voice is low when he asks, “Are you jealous?”

You glare at him. “Shut up.”

His laughter vibrates against your skin, rich and warm, before he dips down to kiss you, like he’s trying to pour everything he can’t say into it. When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the quiet.

Then, softer now, more serious, he murmurs, “Are you gonna answer me?”

Your brow furrows slightly. “Answer what?”

Jungkook leans over, reaching toward the nightstand where the jar still sits, its notes untouched except for the last one.

“The question,” he says, retrieving the single unfolded slip of paper. He holds it between you, and even though you already know what it says, your heart still stutters when your eyes skim over the words again.

Y/N, will you be my Valentine?

Earlier, you had left it unanswered, too overwhelmed by everything that had come before it. But now, after everything after confessions, after heartbreak, after finally finding each other again—there’s no hesitation.

You reach out, plucking the note from his fingers. Slowly, carefully, you fold it again, tucking it beneath your pillow like something precious, something worth keeping. Then, meeting his gaze, you whisper, “You never needed to ask.”

Jungkook exhales, slow and shaky, like something inside him has finally settled. His hand cups your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin like he’s memorizing the moment.

“Good,” he murmurs, voice thick with emotion. “Because I wasn’t planning on taking no for an answer.”

Your breath catches. Not because of his confidence but because, deep down, you realize you’d never wanted to say no in the first place. Maybe you had tried to fight it. Maybe you had convinced yourself that the past had built too many walls between you. But now, lying here in the warmth of his arms, the truth settles into your bones like something that had been waiting for you to accept it all along.

It had always been him.

Your fingers tighten in the sheets as you search his gaze, looking for hesitation, for doubt for something to make this feel less like a dream. But there’s nothing. Just him. Just you. Just this moment you both fought so hard to reach.

Jungkook watches you, waiting, always waiting, his hand still resting against your cheek as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

So you close the distance.

You kiss him slowly this time, letting it sink in. The warmth of his lips, the taste of him still lingering, the way he exhales like he’s been holding his breath for years. When you pull away, his forehead rests against yours, both of you breathing the same air, hearts beating in time.

And then, with a quiet, knowing smile, you whisper, “Then don’t.”

Jungkook’s lips part slightly, his expression shiftingas if those two words had knocked down every last barrier between you. And maybe they had. Because before you can say anything else, he’s pulling you against him again, tucking you close, his hand slipping into yours beneath the sheets.

Neither of you speak for a long time after that. You don’t need to.

Outside, the world keeps turning, time moving forward just as it always does. But here, in the hush of your dorm room, wrapped up in him, it feels like the universe has paused just for you.

Not to make up for lost time.

But to remind you that some things—some people—were never really lost at all.

And maybe, just maybe, they never would be.

EPILOGUE : Years Later – Valentine’s Day

The door clicks shut behind you as you step into the apartment, kicking off your shoes with a tired sigh. The evening air still clings to your skin, carrying traces of laughter and the lingering warmth of Jungkook’s presence.

It had been another perfect night one filled with inside jokes, stolen bites of each other’s food, and his usual exasperated attempts to get you to pick a restaurant instead of saying, “Anything’s fine.”

Jungkook is nowhere in sight, giving you the solitude you need. You don’t hesitate. Your steps are purposeful as you cross the room, crouching down beside the bed. With practiced ease, you reach under the frame, fingers brushing against the familiar surface of a small pink, heart-shaped box.

But this time, there’s something else.

Your fingers find the jar, the one that started it all.

You pull them both out carefully, as if they were a fragile secret, and place them on your lap.

Soft footsteps approach. Then, a familiar weight sinks onto the mattress beside you.

Jungkook’s voice is quieter now, fond. “Didn’t think I’d see those again.”

You smile, running a thumb over the worn edges of the box before glancing at him. “I don’t know what made me reach for them.”

He hums, gaze flickering between the objects in your hands. “Habit, maybe. Or fate.” Then, smirking, “You always did have a thing for digging up answers.”

Rolling your eyes, you pop the lid off the jar, fingers fishing out an old note. The paper is creased, the ink slightly faded, but you already know what it says.

"Y/N, will you be my Valentine?"

Jungkook watches you, expectant. “You never actually answered me, you know.”

You exhale a laugh, shaking your head. “Jungkook, we’re literally married.”

“And?” He leans in, teasing. “I’m just saying, a verbal confirmation wouldn’t hurt.”

You scoff but humor him anyway, fingers curling into his sweater as you whisper against his lips—

"Yes, Jungkook. I’ll be your Valentine."

His arms wrap around you, pulling you in. The jar sits forgotten on the floor, the pink box nestled beside it.

Once upon a time, you had pulled it out, searching for clarity. Looking for a sign.

You didn’t realize then you never needed the answers inside.

Because you’d already found them.

Because you’d found him.

And maybe that was the answer all along.

taglist: @iamstilljk @hirochan112 @withluvjm @amarawayne @jeon-has-left-you-on-seen @blueofocean @tattzjeon @tsick @stuti2904 @gukkiebabysblog @taekritimin123 @whisperingonyx @sadgirlroo @nerdycheol @hoshiskimchi @blueberriesm @kooksrqcer @minimoninini @dreamersparacosm @yok00k @whothefuckisthishoe @prxdajeon @darkangelfei @sunainasworld @kia091106 @khadeeeeej @welcometomyworld13 @noshametempo @bakuhoethotski @ohyeah35sworld

thank you so much for reading! let me know what u think about it <3

[joelsgoldrush]

“crawl home to her” | 7.5k

old man!logan x f!reader

SUMMARY: Will he be able to control himself once he's near you? In this moment, he feels more animal than human. Creeping, on the verge of crawling, back to you. OR Like a sinner seeking absolution, he finds his way back to you after every absence, as if you're the only salvation he's ever known.

WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni smut 18+ cursing. drinking. dirty talk. some fluff. comfort. feelings. self-deprecation. miscommunication. sort of established relationship. age gap (reader's in her late 20s). petnames. religious imagery. logan's POV. chauffeur!logan. dom!logan. reader wears logan's dog tags and clothes. pussy pronouns. phone sex. oral sex (f and m receiving). 69. fingering. masturbation (he jerks off in the limo). one (1) single spank. sort of rough sex. unprotected p in v. creampie.

A/N: i wrote this as a part 2 of this story, but still, it can be read as a standalone (i'd recommend that you also read the first part as well 👀 you'll understand their relationship better). hope you like this one! <3

Logan is tired. Bone-deep, soul-crushingly tired.

He takes a slow, deliberate drag from his cigar, letting the smoke curl inside his chest, teasing his lungs. Doesn’t even bother to crack the window open—why would he?—before exhaling, the haze lingering inside the limo like a fog.

One quick glance at his phone screen just to make sure his vision isn’t screwing him over—no older notifications. A pang of disillusionment settles in his being.

Not only is he fighting to keep his eyes open, exhausted from driving the same family around for the past few days while they enjoy their quality time, but he’s also bored out of his mind. 

Where the hell are you?

He adjusts his glasses, pushing them higher up on the bridge of his nose, preventing them from sliding down to his lap. When his phone buzzes, he jolts, nearly hitting his head on the roof of the limo due to his excitement.

His poor heart gallops as he fumbles with the screen, unlocking it with the same urgency as a man starved for contact.

But it’s not you. It’s one of his passengers.

We’re getting out in half an hour, the message reads. By we, she means herself, her husband, and their two kids.

Logan can’t bring himself to type an actual reply, so he leaves her on read. She knows he’s not going anywhere, parked outside the arcade as if he’s rooted in place with no way out.

Family after family enters that hell on earth, kids of all ages bouncing on their heels, voices shrill with enthusiasm. He watches, half-heartedly, as parents get dragged by their little ones, who negotiate how much money they are allowed to spend tonight.

He almost feels bad for those parents. Almost. He hopes that at least they know how to say ‘No’.

All in all, he’s got another thirty minutes of solitude ahead. The radio has long since ceased to entertain him. He’s been parked here for two hours, and his mind is starting to drift. He could stretch his legs, walk around, or maybe grab a drink—but damn it.

He wants to talk to you.

You’d said he could call you after dropping the family off. That was three hours ago. The last message he received from you was still stuck in his head, replaying over and over like a lifeline. Logan knows you must be busy, probably taking care of Charles and—

Okay, he’ll get back to that later. 

You: Just got out of the shower. Call me in five?

Right now, he could die a happy man. Were he a dog, his tail would be wagging furiously, anticipation already building for the simple joy of hearing you.

Logan: Got it.

The next five minutes feel like an eternity. He finishes his cigar, flicking the stub beneath the seat without giving it a second thought. For now, he doesn’t care about being a messy fucker. He’ll deal with the mess some other time.

Priorities.

A quick spritz of some cheap air freshener he picked up from a gas station fills the car, masking the distinctive scent of smoke. God forbid the kids start whining about how ‘weird’ it smells in the limo.

With a grimace, he sprays a little more—floral, of all scents? It feels insulting.

How kind of him to still be this considerate.

His thumb hovers over your contact, and he presses the call button with an agility he hasn’t had in years (thanks to you).

One, two, three rings, and then—

“Logan,” you say softly, your voice a little breathless, like you’ve been hurrying all over the place.

He stops grinding his jaw, the tension in his shoulders easing. He unclenches his fists, fingers uncurling one by one, as if letting go of some invisible burden.

Outside the vehicle, people stop dying, babies stop being born, and the world itself pauses just for him to listen to you.

You can’t see him, but he smiles either way. “Hey, baby.”

“Gosh, I’m so sorry. I lost track of time talking to Charles. We had dinner, and then I just—I felt so gross, you know? From cooking and all that. Took a shower, and it got pretty late.”

You end with a sigh, and he imagines you rubbing a hand over your face. “Please tell me you weren’t sleeping when I texted you.”

“Not even close. Still waiting for them.”

“They’re really taking their time, huh?”

“You wouldn’t believe it,” he murmurs, his fingers drumming a soft rhythm on the steering wheel. “How was your day?”

“Great! I’m already in bed.”

“My bed.”

You laugh, that sweet sound making his heart stutter. “Well, yeah. Where else do you want me to sleep if I’m at your place? On the floor?”

If someone had told Logan a year ago that he’d let someone live in his space, let alone take care of Charles, he’d have scoffed. "Pathetic," he’d have said, rolling his eyes with that familiar growl in his throat. Pretty sure he’d also puffed his chest while saying so.

Because Logan Howlett wasn’t one for accepting help. He’s been on his own since the earth was still cooling down.

But for you? He made exceptions. Plenty of them. And if it weren’t for your altruism, he wouldn’t have accepted this job—a job that pays well enough to cover Charles’ meds and put food on the table. He needs this rich family’s money.

“You’ve got a girlfriend now?” Charles had asked, when Logan explained he’d be staying with you while he went away for a few days.

“Big word you’re using there,” Logan had replied, placing two pills into Charles’ palm. The old man gave him a death stare. “Don’t play dumb. It’s not like you don’t know the drill.”

Mumbling something incoherent before swallowing the pills, Charles had taken slow sips of water between each one, sinking back into the mattress with a weary sigh. “If she’s not your girlfriend, then what is she?”

“A friend.”

“That’s nice. Is that what they’re calling it now?”

He shakes that memory away, forcing his mind back to the call. “Try not to be so kind to him. What if he falls in love with you?” he inquires, a mocking tone weaving through his words. 

And that’s when you drop the bombshell. “You mean like you did?” 

You laugh, but Logan… doesn’t. He can’t do it. He makes sure he’s breathing on command: in and out, in and out, in and out. 

The mention of love unsettles him. He doesn’t feel safe anymore, doesn’t know what game you’re playing. Where’s the rulebook?

Is he—could he be—falling in love with you? Is that what you’re implying? And if so, do you feel the same?

In the long run, you mumble: “It was a joke.” Only then do his lungs fill with fresh air, untainted by the weight of his unease. But he can’t let it pass, the fact you sound disappointed. Defeated.

He promised himself he’d never hurt you. Though he doesn’t intend to, it feels as if he’s just stabbed you in the back, twisting the knife further into your frame—unwillingly.

“Remember the—” he pauses a moment, throwing his head back in frustration, silently cursing himself. “The pills. You’ve been giving them to him, right?”

“Yes, Logan.”

“Please, remember it’s only—”

“Logan,” you try again, cutting through the wave of his spiraling thoughts. He can picture you behind closed lids, looking at him through your lashes, your hand resting gently on his chest. “I have it under control, okay? He’s doing alright. I swear I’m taking good care of him.”

“I don’t doubt that, honey.” Casting a glance at the rearview mirror, he feels an unexpected sense of longing for your presence there, like a ghost haunting his every move, confined to the limits of his brain. “Can’t help but worry. That’s all.”

A soft hum reverberates through the line. He hears the rustle of sheets, the sound of you tossing around in his bed, and his pulse quickens at the thought.

“You said you’re sleepin’ on my bed.”

“Good memory you have.”

“You wearin’ my clothes as well?”

 Thick silence, the kind he relishes.

“Yeah,” you finally reply, shifting the phone from side to side. You take a deep breath, and add: “I forgot to bring mine.”

He hates how you easily find a way to get him riled up despite being miles away. It must be the power of words.

“I don’t believe you.” He knows he shouldn’t, hates himself for doing it, but one of his hands palms the half-hard bulge in his black slacks, suppressing a low groan. “Think you did it on purpose.”

A rush of heat, sharp and urgent, washes over him. Is he really about to do this? Get himself off in the very car he uses for work? Twisted, incredibly sick of him, he thinks.

Still, he craves more. “Tell me what you’re wearing.”

You laugh at his demanding tone, fanning the flames of his desperation. “When did you turn into a horny teenager?”

“Always been, baby,” Logan purrs, undoing the button of his pants, followed by the fly. His eyes flick upwards for just a moment—no cars, no one in sight. He’s presumably alone. It’s all the confirmation he needs to say: “C’mon. Tell your old man what clothes you stole from him.”

He’s never done this before—phone sex. He’s heard about it, sure, but never imagined he’d fall so hard for the idea. The thrill of it sinks into him, electrifying.

What are you doing? Is your lip caught between your teeth? Do your eyes wander down your own body? Maybe your fingers are already skimming over your skin.

“It’s just a random shirt,” you murmur. “Plain, white.”

“What else?”

“There’s nothing else.”

Logan’s breath hitches as his hand moves to his cock, spotting the damp patch on his briefs where the tip has already started to leak. The moment he slides the elastic down past his balls, he fists his shaft in a slow stroke, going from the base to the head. “No panties? And you expect me t’believe this wasn’t planned?”

Your muffled whimper is like molten lava spilling into his ear, bringing him to full hardness. More shuffling follows on your end, driving him wild with the anticipation. “Why do you do this to me if you’re not here?”

“‘Cause I want you touchin’ yourself just like I’m doin’.” He thumbs the head, hips jerking involuntarily at the sensation. He aches to feel your mouth there instead. “Bet that pussy’s been cryin’ out for me, huh? Must’ve got used to me fillin’ her every other night.”

Your breathing grows more uneven, small gasps filtering through the speaker. “I need you here with me. This is—ugh—not enough.”

“What’s not enough, sweetheart?”

There’s a pause as the sound of your phone shifts again, and then he hears it clearly—the wet, needy sound of your fingers working between your legs, filling the silence with the loud squelching of your cunt. “My fingers,” you blurt out, more distant than before, like you’re merging with the bed, dissolving with every touch.

Logan spits roughly into his palm, the slickness of his saliva easing the drag of his calloused hand along his length, good enough to make the movement more satisfying.

He moans aloud, eyes shut tight, your name slipping from his lips, a whispered prayer, as if saying it could somehow summon you to his side. “I spoil you too much,” he rasps, wedging his phone between his ear and shoulder, using every resource available to him, anything to feel something real. “Seems like you’ve forgotten how to make yourself come.”

Your moans follow his, the breathy sounds a clear sign of how close you are, hanging on the edge, your release just a heartbeat away. But it’s not enough, and you need him. He wonders if you can feel his thoughts from miles away, because— “Want your cock so bad, Lo. I m-miss you.”

He has to stop jerking himself to hold off his orgasm, stomping his foot against the pedals. “Fuck, darlin’. You keep sayin’ those things and I swear I’ll be back with you by morning.”

His sole focus now is you—getting you to come. Driven by his growing frenzy, it’s the only coherent thought that claws through the haze in his mind. “Keep talking, please,” you plead, fingers still lost in the heat of your body. “Tell me what you’ll do to me when you see me.”

Logan picks up the rhythm again, his movements faltering as his chest heaves, ragged breaths spilling out while his hand works faster. “Gonna fuck you slow and deep, just how you like it. Face to face, so you can kiss me as much as you want, ‘cause I know my girl loves that, am I right?”

My girl. He’ll regret that one the second the high fades and clarity sets in.

Word after word falls from his lips without thought, uncontrollable, as though he’s surrendered to the storm of desire raging in his being—a storm in which your name is the eye of it all.

You are everywhere, and you take up all the empty spaces he thought were impossible to fill, sinking into the depths of his unconsciousness.

Not a single part of him is left untouched by you, by the power of your presence in his life, consuming him in ways he never imagined.

Your airy mewls ripple through the line, feeding his ravenousness, adding to the tightening knot of pleasure coiling low in his abdomen. His muscles strain, thighs tensing. Each stroke of his hand prolongs this sweet torture. 

“Come for me, princess. You’d make me so h-happy if you came right now.”

And you do, because it’s not just his touch anymore—it’s his voice, and the way he commands you without force. How you’ve become accustomed to him, nodding along to each instruction he mutters.

Beneath your fingers, your swollen clit pulses, and though he can’t see it, he imagines it perfectly, having spent enough time worshiping it.

He knows, even from a distance, what your body must be doing. Your back arching off the bed, thighs quivering and clenching tight around your own hand. Those perfect legs of yours trembling as you reach your so-desired climax.

Loud and unrestrained, you moan, and for a moment, he wants to be with you so badly that he ponders if the theory of traveling across time and space sounds that far-fetched after all.

Logan doesn't need much after that for the thread to snap at long last, his groans dying on his lips as he stares in awe at the spurts of his seed landing wherever his eyes fall: a bit on the top of his pants, on his hand, his briefs. His cock twitches in his grip as he continues stroking himself through the aftershocks, gulping when it becomes too much to handle.

So phone sex is off the list now. Great.

“Miss you, too,” he mumbles once he’s caught his breath, tossing his glasses onto the passenger seat. His forehead feels damp to the touch, and he contemplates when was the last time he came this hard.

The elephant in the room hasn’t been addressed yet. He knows you expect him to say more, something deeper and rawer, but that’s all he can force himself to spit out.

Sometimes, he forgets that you can’t read him all the time. Although you know him better than anyone else, there are certain thoughts and memories locked tightly inside him, things you'd never discover on your own. Secrets he admits he should share with you, but he’s at a loss for how. Words aren’t doable when he needs them the most.

Maybe it's a matter of age—you’re a natural at voicing your feelings.

At some point, you ask: “When did you say you were returning?”

One thing’s clear: he can’t afford to lose you. He’d be an idiot if he let that happen.

“In five days, I think.” Were he with you, he'd hold you in his arms, kissing your lips. God, how he misses kissing you. All of you. “I’ll keep you updated.”

“It’s okay,” you respond, and in his mind, a blank canvas fills with the familiar image of you lying on your side, curling into a ball the way you always do. “I should go to sleep. Talk to you tomorrow.”

“Sure.” Thank you for everything. “Get some rest.” Are you still in love with me? “Bye.” I’m coming back. You know how I feel about you, do you?

So much left unsaid, words he lacks the strength to speak. That, along with his come-stained clothes. And, of course, the limousine now perfumed like a flower shop.

Exhaustion clings to him again.

His luck has never been this good.

The next afternoon, one of the couple’s kids falls ill. Must be something he ate, the woman tells Logan, her voice light, though he can hear the shuffle of urgency behind her words.

Her husband packs their bags in the background, the muted thuds of luggage hitting the floor. You know how children are. Their hands are always filthy!

What she doesn’t realize is that Logan, in fact, doesn’t know how children are, because how could he?

He’s holed up in the hotel across the street, his only responsibility being to wait on their call, ready to drive whenever they needed him. Needless to say, his accommodations are nothing like theirs. Not that he minds it—he’s not one for luxury, has never needed it.

Truth be told, he’s no stranger to beds that groan if you shift slightly, clogged toilets that spit back water like they’re alive.

Joy rushes through him when he hears the news. He’s coming back earlier than expected, a thrill building in his chest. Twelve days he’s been away, his greed growing with each second in that desolate hotel room.

Now, the beating of his heart quickens, a faint thrumming as he stares out the window. He debates whether to let you know about his early return or keep it as a surprise. Would it be better if he just showed up?

How would you feel, knowing that, by the time the lights are out, he’ll be yours again?

He knows he should feel sorry for the poor kid, but all he can muster is a look of concern that barely reaches his eyes. Each time they pull into a gas station, he listens to the hurried slap of footsteps as the boy rushes for the bathroom to empty his insides.

He watches in the rearview as the kid’s father shakes his head, clicking his tongue with disapproval. “Do you have kids?” he asks, his voice forced into a casual tone, like he’s trying to break the silence that’s settled between them. 

Logan’s only response is to turn up the radio, some pop song he’s never heard spilling from the speakers. The lyrics are a blur of nonsense to him, but it’s enough to drown out the man’s words and the boy’s misery.

Some things never change.

As the sun dips below the horizon, he’s finally free, no longer at anyone’s beck and call. He contemplates the possibility of getting a speeding ticket, weighing his options. It hardly matters. The pull to see you, to feel you, is stronger than anything else.

Even though he tries to think of another time in his life when he felt such a raw need, no memory comes close.

When he does pull up to his place, he does it quietly. Parking the limo, he doesn’t honk, doesn’t announce himself. Fumbling with the keys ever so lightly so as not to wake you up, fitting them into the lock.

His wrist twists, and the door gives way with a soft creak.

Anxiety ripples through him as he steps inside. The smell of freshly cooked food hits him, but it only tightens the knot in his stomach, reminding him of how long it’s been since he last ate.

Later, he tells himself. After. Once he’s sated his true hunger—the kind of hunger that can only be satisfied by sinking his fingers into something real, fleshy, malleable. 

Hunger—yes, it’s animalistic, feral even. Will he be able to control himself once he’s near you? In moments like this, he feels more animal than human. Creeping, on the verge of crawling, back to you.

His feet take him to his bedroom, knowing the path to it very well. Fingers hovering over the knob, he takes a deep breath.

It’s already late, past midnight, yet energy courses through his veins as though he’s just woken from a long, ethereal dream.

He finds you asleep, your body wrapped snugly in the sheets, clutching a pillow close to your chest. Your cheek is pressed into it, breathing soft and steady, lulling him in. Kneeling on the edge of the bed, he kicks off his shoes, then slips in beside you, mirroring your position. 

A lamp sits on his nightstand, one that isn’t his, and he figures you must have brought it from your apartment. There has to be a symbolism for that.

It’s incredible how his entire world can fit into such a narrow bed.

The smart thing would be to let you sleep, to simply watch you for a moment longer. But he can’t help himself.

His thumb lingers near your face before gently cupping your cheek, and the very first contact with your skin sends a shudder through him, the warmth of your skin grounding him. He trails his fingers down to your chin, holding it with just enough pressure to remind himself that he’s here.

Leaning in, he presses his lips softly against your forehead, your typical perfume wrapping around him like a welcome.

Welcome home, Logan.

For the first time, he feels that someone’s been counting down the minutes until his return. He’d always believed a person like him didn’t deserve this. That he just wasn’t built for it.

Countless years had he spent convincing himself he’d never be the kind of man who could inspire love. His life had already been written long ago—predetermined by some cruel hand in the sky.

Destiny, fate, call it what you want—once the cards are laid out, there’s no escaping them. Or so he used to think.

You had taken that pen into your own hands, rewriting his future. You, of all people, had changed his life. No matter what the future held for the two of you, he’d always be grateful. Grateful that you’d seen the dim spark in him that others had chosen to ignore.

Thoughtlessly, his fingers continue their gentle strokes along your cheek, your hair. You stir beside him, shifting in your sleep. Your eyes flutter open, close again, and then open once more, blinking in confusion.

“Logan?” you croak, voice still groggy and thick with sleep, coming to your senses. Before he can respond, you throw yourself on top of him, smothering his face with kisses. “Why—how—”

“Sweetheart,” he says, attempting to hide his grin, but failing when your kisses shift to his neck, your nose nuzzling against his skin. A laugh slips out, warmth flooding his chest.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming home early!”

Home. Had he heard right? Had you used that word knowingly?

Peering into your eyes, he catches his reflection in your pupils, tiredness etched into his features. “Wanted it to be a surprise.”

“You could’ve told me,” you reply, fingers threading through his greying locks, massaging his scalp. You place a tender kiss on the tip of his nose. “I would’ve waited up for you at least.”

“Well, I’m here now,” he whispers back, gaze drifting to your lips, and you close the space between you, his sigh mingling with yours as one hand cradles the small of your back, fisting the fabric of his shirt. His other hand tilts your head, inviting your tongues to greet each other in an unhurried dance.

You move languidly on top of him, and he notices, breaking the kiss and pulling back. “You’re gonna fall asleep on me, are you?”

The way your lashes flutter in response should be illegal. “I could use a human-size pillow.”

“I should shower first.”

“No.”

“Baby, I smell like gas.”

“So?”

A smirk tugs at his lips at your insistence, and he gently lays you back against the mattress. Drawn to your charm once again, he licks into your mouth, mentally scolding himself when he gets carried away, letting the kiss linger longer than intended.

“I’ll be quick,” he promises, pulling the sheets over your body. Resigned, you simply nod, settling on your side.

Ten minutes later, you’re dozing off, teetering on the edge of unconsciousness when he slips into bed, wrapping himself around you from behind. One arm drapes over your waist, the other cushions your head, and there’s not a patch of skin between you left untouched.

Fatigue begins to delve deeper into his bones the longer he stays curled around you, but before the weight of sleep takes him, and the silence steals his chance, he huffs: “I missed you.” His beard grazes your skin in a soft, unintentional caress.

You pull his wrist to your lips, pressing a short-lived kiss to the inside of it. “Missed you, too.”

How the roles have reversed.

In the quietness of this starless night, you leave him no other choice but to believe you.

3:34 a.m. Still hostage to the lack of light outside. The world remains submerged in the gentle tides of sleep, undulating between dreams, except for him.

Logan wakes up at 3:34 a.m. because he’s rock hard, and being flushed against your back wasn’t helping him with his situation at all. If anything, it only heightened it.

He sits at the edge of the bed, his mind running in circles, debating whether he should jump to his feet and head to the bathroom for another shower—this time, a cold one. Returning to sleep, at least in this moment, is not a viable option.

His gaze drifts to the moonlight spilling through the window, casting its pale glow across the room. Is this your doing? The question lingers, unshakable, in his thoughts. It remains as just that: a question.

When you quietly rest your chin on his shoulder, he stifles a sigh, biting the inside of his cheek. Your voice breaks through the quiet.

“What’s wrong? Can’t sleep?” Wrapping your arms around him from behind, you circle his frame, in an effort to persuade him to sink back into the mattress.

“It’s nothing,” he says, pulse accelerating. Please, don’t look down. “I’ll be back in a second.”

“But what is—”

He doesn’t get to hear the rest of your sentence. You do look down, finding the outline of his hardened cock straining against his briefs, stealing your full attention.

“Wow.”

“Go back to sleep.”

“And leave you like this?” One hand creeps toward his waistband, your breath warm against his ear. “Wouldn’t miss this for anything in the world.”

Your nails trace a path through the coarse hair at his navel, and Logan tenses. His legs feel like jelly as you cup his balls, fondling them gently between your fingers.

Behind him, your low chuckle stirs something primal in him, making his blood thrum hot beneath his skin. He should be the one doing this to you, not the other way around.

“Darlin’, I don’t—” He’s cut off by his own guttural groan when you fist his length, pumping him in rhythm with his uneven breaths. “I don’t need this.”

“Seems like you do,” you whisper, momentarily halting your ministrations to place your palm in front of his face, hoping he takes the hint. You kiss his stubble, pausing just short of his mouth. “I want to take care of you. Always do.”

Your palm hovers before him, inviting. Grabbing your wrist, he licks it, coating it in his spit and guiding you back down to him. Together, your hands glide along his length, and his gaze locks onto yours, the intensity of it making his neck tense.

You beam with delight under his stare. That red organ caged within his ribs—a blood-pumping machine of passion—surges back to life as he sees you.

He had won the battle. He had triumphed over his past; had lived enough lives, endured enough years, to arrive at this moment.

This had to be the purpose of his existence: to share this part of his stay on earth with you.

“You’re so hard,” you say, twisting your wrist at the tip of his cock, reveling in every buck of his hips, each movement a reflection of his exaltation. “Guess you did miss me.”

With a quiet growl, he reaches behind, nudging your thighs apart until they find your mound, cupping you through your underwear. “I’m not the only one who’s been missin’ someone.” He pulls the fabric aside, sliding his fingers through your wet folds. His nostrils flare as he feels how ready you are. “Why am I not surprised?”

Your breath hitches, and you press yourself closer against him, your tits against his back, mouth teasing at his neck. “That’s what happens when you’re gone.” Another kiss on his nape. “You could take me with you next time.”

“Can’t do that,” he answers, teasing your entrance. “No work would get done.”

His movements cease to a stop. Yours do too. Turning his head just enough to glance over his shoulder, he scrutinizes your expression, pride swelling in his chest as he takes in your affected state.

“You’re not goin’ back to sleep, are you?”

There’s the shake of your head. A single word escapes your lips, imbued with pure fervor: “Please.”

He captures your mouth in an ardent kiss, tugging at your shirt (which is, in fact, his) to undress you, his wandering hands roaming beneath it.

As his mouth meets your neck, something cold brushes against his lips, drawing his gaze down to what’s hanging from your neck.

His dog tags. The ones he had given you before leaving for that job, as his way of telling you I’m coming back without having to say it aloud. And you, as always, understood; had even promised to keep them safe, though he hadn’t expected you to actually wear them.

Now, with your shirt discarded, they lay against your bare skin, his name resting in the valley between your breasts.

“You like ‘em?” His fingers grip the chain and give it a gentle tug, drawing you closer so he can breathe over your lips, his breath mingling with yours. “Like knowing you’re mine? You get off on it?”

You nod in agreement. Of course, you do. Though emotionally constipated and not the most expressive, Logan is a lover who knows how to awaken desire—a good lover, indeed. A decent one.

Which is why he agrees to any idea that crosses your mind, like the one you just whispered in his ear.

He may be older than you, but he’s always been more on the traditional side. You, on the other hand, are continually searching for new ways to innovate.

The round globes of your ass jiggle over his face as he spreads you apart, entrenched by how your skin moves above him, your glistening hole clenching around nothing, as if your body itself is calling to him.

With his head propped against the headboard, he watches you take him deeper, your saliva dripping down the wiry hairs of his cock. The slick heat of your tongue traces over his slit, back and forth, driving him to the edge.

When he hears you gag, it stirs something inside him—a deep need to return the favor, to match your devotion.

At the end of the day, he’s a man on a mission, and right now, that mission is you.

Right there, with his nose and mouth buried in you, he wonders why he hadn't thought of this sooner. If he could choose a natural end like any other man, he'd wish for it to be by suffocation—your body his last breath.

Logan inhales deeply, like a man starved, working two of his fingers inside your throbbing center, his tongue flicking relentlessly over your clit, punching moan after moan out of you. Each thrust of his fingers, each stroke of his tongue, sends waves of pleasure coursing through you.

His beard, streaked with gray, leaves a trail of fire wherever your hips meet his face, pushing back against him. Every so often, you pull off his cock just to ramble, panting, about how good he's making you feel.

From where he lies, you’re a sight to behold, nothing short of divine. “Just what I needed, doll. You taste so fuckin’ sweet,” he blurts out, your frantic cries pouring into his ears as he sucks the swollen bud between his lips. “Can’t believe you let me do this to you. You love makin’ your old man happy, don’t you?”

He used to think he'd burn in hell for indulging in the desire to know you like this—raw, ungraceful.

His judgment must be fucked up, because now, all he sees in you is heaven incarnate. You must be the closest thing to it he’ll ever find.

“Shit, I…” you trail off, gasping as he replaces his fingers with his tongue, drinking from your arousal and tasting every bit of you. “I thought about you every day.”

“Bet you did, just like that night I called you. You know how I felt when you told me you were wearing my clothes?” His hand comes down with a firm slap on your right asscheek, drawing a whine from you as your movements falter. “Can smell you all over these sheets. Makes me wonder how many times you made yourself come while I was away.”

You slip the tip of his cock back in your mouth, your hands and lips working in sync. His nose brushes against the plush skin of your thighs before his teeth graze your flesh, biting down just enough to leave a sting. His fingers curl inside you, hitting that perfect spot again and again, and you moan around him, your throat vibrating against his length.

He makes you come like this, knuckles deep inside you while his thumb circles your clit. Overwhelmed by pleasure, you let go of his dick, and it hits Logan’s stomach with a wet pop. His strong arms tug you closer to his face, eyes falling closed as you ride the wave of your orgasm against his mouth, palms pressed flat on his chest.

For a brief moment, he can’t breathe, can’t feel anything but you, your scent, your taste filling his senses.

Later, he rolls you onto your back and climbs on top of you, uncertain of how much time he has spent lapping at your wetness. His hard length glides along your folds, and he lines himself up without pushing in, looking right into your eyes. 

“Remember what I told you that night over the phone?” he asks, his breath coming in quick bursts, and you nod, head lolling back as he pinches your lower lip between his fingers. “Repeat it.”

“Logan—”

“You say it, and I’ll make it happen.”

Perplexity clouds your features. “You said you’d fuck me slow and deep, just h-how I like it. Face to face, because—”. The words escape you, a sob tearing through your throat as he eases the first few inches of himself inside you, your walls instinctively making space to wrap around him.

He’s home.

“Go on. What else did I say?” he teases, relishing in it. He’s guilty as sin. “Or were you too lost in thought touchin’ yourself?”

“F-face to face,” you slur, nails digging into his scarred back, and he keeps plunging his length into your interior to the hilt. Your lips part slightly, craving the kiss that only he can give you. “You said you’d do it face to face so I could kiss you whenever I wanted.”

He hums, low in his throat, as he gives the first thrust of the night, taking great pleasure in your expression: open-mouthed, eyes scrunched, and a slight crease forming between your brows.

Smoothing his thumb over your forehead, he tsks, pausing his movements. “None of that, princess. Look at me, c’mon.”

You obey, forcing your eyes open, and in that instant, he swears he can feel every tremor coursing through you. “Logan,” you coo, your voice aching as you stretch your neck toward his mouth.

The way you say his name—seductively, charged with a fascination that riles him up—manages to ignite a fire only you can kindle. It’s all the invitation he needs.

“I know. Too much, huh?” His tone drips with condescension, teasing in a way that feels almost cruel. He can’t help it, though: it’s in very his nature. “Need to hear you say it. Need you to tell me how much you want this.”

Like everything else in your world, your patience begins to wither, hips instinctively bucking beneath him, seeking even the slightest bit of friction. But he still withholds the kiss you long for, dangling it just out of reach.

“Please,” you beg, voice breaking as you plead. “Fuck me, baby. Missed you so much while you were away. Please, please, please—”

Logan enjoys hearing you beg. He won’t pretend otherwise. There's a satisfaction in knowing he holds this power over you, that he's the only one who can unravel you this way, your body splayed open beneath him.

The thought of others who may have once been in his place, making you fall apart just like this, sets his blood on edge.

Jealousy, sharp and corrosive, crawls up his spine, and it spurs him on, guiding the tempo of his thrusts.

He wonders if he’s ever fucked you this fiercely before, with a passion that pulses from every part of him. You’re given no space for thought, no moment to catch your breath—just his unforgiving pace and the sounds spilling from your lips.

He has a way of breaking you down, turning you into a trembling, whimpering mess beneath him, and you surrender willingly, craving each second of it.

So fuckin’ tight. Can y’hear her? How badly she needs me?

Sex had never felt like this before. He’d grown accustomed to quick, meaningless fucks in poorly lit bars, fleeting encounters that left him questioning if this was all there was. If this wasn’t the best he’d ever know. 

For a while, he’d tried to solve that emptiness, searching in nameless lovers and hollow hearts for the very thing he feared most: love.

And yet, he wanted it, yearned it, guarding his desire like a secret he barely admitted to himself. Until one day, you stumbled into his life, and all the strength he thought he had wasn’t enough to push you away.

He presses deep into the back of your thighs, bringing your chests so close they're nearly brushing. Claiming your mouth in a maddening kiss, all teeth and tongue, leaving no space for softness. As he nibbles at your bottom lip, he feels you tighten around him, your cunt pulling him under, clouding his thoughts.

“Close?” he murmurs, hips snapping against you with an utterly obscene rhythm that drowns out the world, better than any song ever made. “Such a good girl. Gonna come, sweetheart? Let me see how gorgeous you look when you fall apart, making a mess just for me.”

The constant, steady drag of his cock doesn’t seem to get old for you. He’s leaving his mark within you, inside you, carving a space for himself. His tip keeps hitting all the right spots, prompting you to tilt your pelvis to meet him halfway, telling him there, yes, there. More, please.

His hand slides down, rubbing your clit with his fingers. Doesn’t need any extra help when doing so, your arousal providing all the slickness he needs. He feels like a runner on the final stretch, the finish line within reach, so close he can almost touch it, savoring the euphoria and bliss of crossing it.

The way you sing his name never loses its allure, despite all the times he’s heard it spill from your lips. Especially at this moment, with him buried deep inside you, every thrust a promise to make you feel good.

You shamelessly come while he keeps driving into you, vigorous and untamed—like a caged animal unleashed, tasting freedom for the very first time.

Ankles digging into his lower back, a trail of persistent kisses along his beard. You want him inside, that much he can tell.  It’s not like he ever finishes anywhere else, but the reminder doesn’t bother him. It only serves as a reassurance: that you still want this, want him. You haven’t changed your mind.

He sinks his teeth into your neck the instant he feels his orgasm tearing through him, hips stilling and sagging as a string of grunts abandons his being, dampening your skin even more.  He loves to fill you up, it consumes him entirely.

Such an intimate, visceral act, and then he gets to see his seed trickling down your thighs. He realizes that he doesn’t need much to be happy.

You keep kissing him, his neck, his face. It may seem absurd to say that every kiss feels like the first, yet it’s true.

Even after he’s traced all the contours of your mouth and committed every detail of your body to memory, he can’t help but feel that same thrill of excitement he experienced months ago when he dared to push beyond the boundaries he had set for himself.

Staring at each other, naked, all the love in the world seems to fill these four walls. The compassion and tenderness in your gaze remain unchanged. You’re a dream come true.

It can’t end like this. He can’t allow you to drift back into sleep without saying what needs to be said. Something has to happen, something only he can conjure.

“I think…” He hesitates. Starting with I think carries an air of uncertainty. “I don’t—”

“Logan,” you interrupt, your hand finding his. “I know.”

Yes, you do. You always seem to know everything, but that can’t be enough. He can’t lean on your unspoken understanding of his feelings.

“You still deserve to hear it.”

“It’s not necessary.”

“It is.”

More silence. The moon is the solitary spectator of his upcoming declaration. 

“You were right,” he begins, drawing your intertwined hands closer to his face, pressing a soft kiss on the back of yours. His voice drops to a murmur. It’s not just his body that feels completely exposed anymore; something deeper within him stands bare. “I’m in love with you.”

You scrutinize him as if he’s revealing the secret to eternal life. Again, you kiss his cheek, cupping it gently with your palm.

“It won’t get any better than this. There are no more layers to peel away, okay?” He offers explanations you never even asked for in the first place. “This is what I am.” Much to his dismay, you overlook his choice of words: what instead of who.

He glances away, his gaze landing on the dog tags resting against your skin. The same old guilt threatens to engulf him, as it does each time without fail, and that seems to be your cue to lower yourself to his eye level, eyebrows raised.

“I’m not with you because I’m waiting for you to change. I like you just as you are, Logan. And I want all of you, both the good and bad stuff.” A gentle smile breaks across your face as you stretch your arm to retrieve his glasses from the nightstand. Placing them on your nose, your eyes twinkle with contentment. “Do they look good on me?”

“You don’t need them yet.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t pull them off.”

“Come here,” he mutters, sighing when you nuzzle his chest, cradling your head between his hands. He ponders what to say, what to do next, but no clear idea sounds promising.

And so it gives you the chance to speak up: “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

I hope I don’t, he thinks to himself as he brushes your hair away from your face, fingers caressing your temples. I hope I never do.

dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! <3

[sincerelyneo]

juno | l.hc

“one of me is cute, but two though…?”

💿now playing: juno by sabrina carpenter

❯ summary: Kids were never really something you thought about. But then you saw your sexy as fuck boyfriend playing uncle and now you can't stop thinking about giving him a baby of his own. What can you say...your hormones are high.

❯ pairings: haechan x fem!reader

❯ genre: smut, established relationship

❯ words: 2.7k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, unprotected sex (don't do this!), swearing, breeding and pregnancy kink, possessiveness, dirty talk, begging, praise, creampie, slight angst not really idk, fluff, reader uses she/her pronouns, literally just the reader getting baby fever from seeing hyuck with kids (very real el oh el.)

an: i know this is like my third haechan post in a week, but i literally don’t care. sue me x

You didn’t want kids. Well, that’s not true. You were indifferent to kids. 

That was until you saw your boyfriend with them. You didn’t think you could be more attracted to him, but then he had to go and check off the "great with kids" box. Maybe it’s just his playful side, but Lee Donghyuck is just so good with them.

And being forced to attend his niece’s first birthday party made you realise it. Honestly, you’d never given much thought to the idea of kids—cute yes, ready to give up endless nights of sleep, no. 

But the minute after you walked through his childhood family home and were done greeting his parents and siblings, a swarm of kids ran at him, hugging his legs and stomach. And he just melted into them, so gentle and excited. It was cute and made you smile. 

From then it was him letting his oldest niece cover his tanned cheeks in blush and stickers, to tossing a ball with his nephew after he announced he made the basketball team—and don’t even get started on him poking the chubby cheeks of his youngest niece, her soft giggles filling the backyard of the party. 

It was like he was in his element—soft, loving, and completely at ease. And even though his nieces and nephews had other uncles and aunts, they’d always say Uncle Hyuck was their favourite—even if they weren’t supposed to.

You watch him from the patio door in the kitchen, overhearing him tell his dad he’s “too young to be having the adult conversations,” which was really code for ‘let me play with the kids.’ 

Running around, telling jokes, creating games. It had your stomach turning and—were your heart strings being pulled? Seeing this absolute perfect man, so caring and playful, living just to make those little ones laugh and smile, had you seriously considering the sleepless nights that might come with having some of your own.

Wait. 

“He’s good with them, huh?”

You jolt, turning to see Hyuck’s sister standing behind you.

“Uh... yeah, I guess so,” you shrug. She steps beside you, and the two of you stand there, watching your boyfriend bounce his niece in his arms, soothing her gently.

She giggles, and you glance over at Hyuck’s sister again. “What?”

“Nothing,” she shrugs. “Just... you’re looking at him like you’re ready to add to the Lee family name.”

You gasp. “I am not!”

She gives you a knowing look, and you bite your lip, eyes shifting back to Hyuck. This time, he’s handing his niece a sippy cup, tapping her nose. Your chest tightens.

“Okay... I suppose he is good with them.”

Hyuck’s sister nods, humming in agreement. “He always has been. With every younger sibling, every cousin—even when I had my first daughter, Hyuck was the most excited.”

He’s sitting on the grass now, all his nieces and nephews swarming him, tickling him. He’s being extra dramatic, letting the younger ones tug at his hair just to make them laugh. You stare, warmth and wholesomeness filling you.

“He’d make a great dad, Y/N.”

The statement is completely sobering.

“Uh,” you stammer, running a hand through your hair. “I don’t know. We haven’t really talked about it.”

That’s not entirely true. You had spoken about it—once. You’d told him it wasn’t something you had planned for but weren’t necessarily opposed to, and the conversation had never come up again.

Hyuck’s sister blinks at you, clearly confused. “That’s crazy. Hyuck’s always said he wants to be a dad.”

Clearly. 

There’s no denying that. It’s so obvious—every second he’s cupping up the kids, tickling them, teasing them. He looks so profoundly happy, so perfect. And it suddenly clicks for you.

This could be yours. Forever. He wants it. And now... you’re starting to think you want it, too. Him, this, forever. His kids. Your kids.

“Y/N! Y/N!” one of the younger kids calls, waving you over from across the backyard. “Can you play with us? We need more people to play the monsters. Uncle Hyuckie can’t do it on his own.”

And just like that, you’re being pulled away from the baby fever conversation and coaxed into joining them—not that it took much convincing. Your thoughts were starting to scare you a little. You’d never seriously thought about kids—until now.

Because you’d never seen Hyuck look more attractive than when he was playing dad.

“I can’t believe she’s one already,” Hyuck beams from where he’s stretched out on your bed. He’s been talking about the party nonstop since you got home. “Did you see the little bows in her hair? So fucking cute.”

You glance at him through the vanity mirror where you’re sitting, watching the way his face lights up, animated and so full of joy. There’s a warmth in your eyes, your lips curved into a soft smile as you take him in. He notices, raising an eyebrow.

“What’s that look for?” 

You stand and walk over to him, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his lips. His eyebrows knit together, more confused now.

“Y/N, what’s going on?”

You smile, sidestepping his question with one of your own. “Did you have fun today?”

“Yess…?” he replies, but there’s a trace of suspicion in his voice.

“Your family’s really nice.”

“Oh, are they now?” He squints playfully. “I saw you talking to my sister. I hope she wasn’t embarrassing me—she loves doing that.”

You shake your head with a giggle. “She wasn’t.”

“Okay…” he draws out. “Then what was she saying?” 

“That you’d be a good dad. That you want to be a dad.” 

Hyuck’s eyes widen and you mentally add this moment to the short list of times your boyfriend has been rendered completely speechless—still countable on one hand.

He coughs, his cheeks turning pink. “S-She said that?”

You nod, biting your lip to keep from laughing.

“And…what did you say back?”

You spread his legs out on the bed so you can slide between them, sitting there and looking up at him as he waits, eager for your response. He’s so cute like this—adorable, even—clearly dying to hear what you thought.

“I didn’t respond,” you admit honestly.

You catch the flicker of hurt in his eyes, but he covers it with a laugh—though it’s not genuine. You can tell he’s trying to brush it off, trying to pretend that he’d be okay with the possibility that you might not want that kind of future with him.

“She shouldn’t have said that,” he mumbles, embarrassed. “I used to talk about it a lot as a kid. I don’t really think like that now. I can’t, you know… because of my job.”

“So you don’t want kids because of your job?” You ask. The tone in your voice takes him by surprise because now you’re the one sounding hurt. 

“Baby... is this a trick question?” He laughs nervously.

You shake your head, crossing your arms across your chest. “No Hyuck. But I want you to answer it truthfully.” 

He shrugs, looking unsure. “I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it.”

“You’re lying.”

He lets out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Baby, I don’t know what you want me to say—”

“The truth,” you insist. 

He pauses, his gaze softening. “I love you, Y/N. You said kids weren’t really part of your plan, and that’s okay,” he begins, his voice steady but sincere. “And yeah, maybe I always kind of thought kids would be in mine, but then I met you. And you became my plan.”

You grab a hold of his hand and squeeze. It draws a genuine smile from him before he speaks again. 

“I know we’ve never talked about it since. But I’m fine with anything—as long as it’s with you.”

You smile, his comment pulling at your heartstrings because you feel the exact same way. 

“Those kids absolutely adore you, Hyuck,” you say and he gives a half smile. 

“Well, I am their favourite Uncle.” 

You trail a soft finger up and down the naked skin of his arm. His eyes follow your touch and that furrowed expression is on his face again. 

“Y/N what’s going on with you? You’re confusing me—”

“You know—” you cut him off. “I think you’d be a great dad.” 

He stares at you, properly taking you in. He’s never seen this side of you before, and you’ve never given him a compliment quite like that before. The thought of you being into the idea of him as a dad… well, he didn’t expect it to turn him on this much. Maybe it’s the way your fingers brush his arm? Yeah no, it’s not.

“Today made me realise something,” you say, shifting to straddle his hips, your arms wrapping around his neck now. He raises a curious brow, waiting. “You look so hot with kids. The thought of you being a dad is so fucking hot, Hyuck.”

Hyuck smiles at the confession, and his hands move to grip your ass as he ground your hips forward on himself. You let out a small gasp of surprise as you feel him. 

“Please don’t joke like that, Y/N,” he whines, eyes squeezing shut. “Because I’ve been thinking about you being the mother of my kids since the day I met you.”

You giggle, biting your lip to stifle the soft moans escaping you as he grinds you slowly against his growing bulge.

“Well, why don’t you do something about it then,” you tease breathlessly, feeling the hardness of him through his sweatpants.

Hyuck’s mouth parts, caught somewhere between awe and shock, but before he can question how serious you are, your lips capture his, and your tongue is slipping inside his mouth to deepen the kiss.

The groan you both share is synchronised, and it’s all the encouragement he needs to flip you over, hovering above you with a renewed sense of urgency to make promise of your teasing. 

His fingers hook into your panties, sliding them off as you shift upward against your pillows, tossing your nightgown aside. Hyuck strips out of his own clothes, desperate to press his bare skin against yours, his need overwhelming any sense of patience.

He kisses you back roughly, passionately. Fuelled by your impossible hotness and readiness to be fucked—fucked by him. Your tongue dips deeper and deeper into his mouth, never satisfied, craving more of him. You cling to him, your hands and legs moving over his skin, desperate to feel every inch. Your hips roll up, slickness coating his shaft, causing a rippling gasp to leave his mouth. 

Hyuck pulls back with dark eyes. You—his girl—naked and desperate under him, begging him to do something about his baby fever—your baby fever. It’s the hottest shit he’s ever seen. His new favourite thing. His obsession. He loves seeing you like this, he decides—so willing, so desperate for him, for his cock. Needing him to bring you the pleasure only he can give. And he’ll make sure you remember that once you're carrying his child.

The image floods his mind—your stomach growing, swelling with his baby, the glow in your smile as you hold his child. A family, all with him. Only him. Because you want his kids.

The last thought pushes him over the edge, and with a low growl, he bites down on your neck, lips and teeth claiming your skin. He wants you marked by him—like always—but this time it’s different. It’s possessive. Primal. Feral. His saliva wet on your neck, dark bruises blooming over your breasts, his fingers burning prints into your hips, and his seed buried deep inside your soaking wet cunt.

His cock jumps when you roll your hips again, your whimpers causing him to groan and eyes roll back. You sound so desperate. Desperate to make him your forever. 

“Hyuck—” you sob as his teeth graze your nipple, sending it hardening under his touch. “Please, I need to feel you.”

His eyes sparkle with lust as he drapes your legs over his waist and leans down, capturing your mouth in a long, needy kiss. He aligns himself with your slick pussy, your fingers clawing at his back as he slowly eases into you. He fills you completely, lifting your hips to bury himself deeper.

“So fucking pretty like this,” he mumbles, pulling away to admire the way you take his thick cock. “Taking me so well, always so good for me, aren’t you, baby?”

You moan as his cock hits every spot inside you—so deep, so hard, so good. Each thrust drags along your walls in a way that feels divine.

“Can’t wait until you’re mine, so full of me,” he whispers, kissing your neck. You whimper, your walls clenching at his words, urging him to quicken his pace. “Do you want that, baby? Want my cum inside this pretty pussy?”

“Yes—fuck yes—please.”

“Say it for me,” he requests softly, a gentle yet desperate edge in his voice. “Please tell me.”

“I want to be yours; make me yours,” you breathe out.

Hyuck's gaze drops to your lips, entranced by the words spilling from them. He thrusts harder, your nails digging into his skin as you pull him closer. Your cunt swallows his cock whole, turning his thrusts sloppy, and he groans.

You’re practically sobbing with how fast he’s driving into you, so close to seeing stars.

“You’re so good at taking me,” he praises, his breath ragged. “Gonna make me fill you.”

You squeeze around him, and the thought of cumming inside you sends a shiver through his thighs, making his breathing stutter.

“Yes! Fuck, please keep going,” You pant. 

“Want you so full of me that it’s dripping down your leg. And then I’ll push it back in when I fuck you again.”

Your breaths grow louder and quicker, matching his as you both teeter on the edge. He kisses you deeply, your mouths suffocating each other as you grip his soft brown hair. His fingers dig into your hips, holding you tight.

“Hyuck—I’m gonna cum.”

“So fucking good, baby,” he moans in awe. “I’m going to fill you with my cum. I want you overflowing with my seed—fuck!” He grunts hoarsely, his body tightening with tension.

Your walls shatter around him, tightening and fluttering on his cock as you cum. Hyuck holds you close, so intimately, holding himself deep inside you as he feels the first spurts of his cum shooting from his cock. 

He doesn’t stop, his hips still moving gently, making sure you take everything, softening each thrust with tender kisses along your bare shoulders. You sigh dreamily, fingers threading through his hair, and he smiles, still half-hard inside you. You’re exhausted, and the sight of your sleepy expression makes his heart twist. Leaning down, he presses a soft kiss to your lips, and for a moment, you stay like that—so close, so intimate.

But as the post-orgasm bliss begins to fade, a flicker of panic flashes in his eyes.

“Fuck—” he mutters, pulling himself off of you quickly. There’s a gnawing feeling in his chest, a sudden guilt. “Y/N, I’m really sorry, I got caught up in the moment. Do you want me to run to the store—”

“No.” You shake your head and grab his arm, keeping him close. “I don’t want you to. If that’s okay…”

His eyes darken with lust before a slow smile spreads across his face.

“Y-yeah… that’s more than okay with me,” he says, nodding eagerly.

“Who knows?” You shrug with a teasing grin. “I might not even get pregnant this time.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “This time?”

You nod confidently. “Yeah, this time. Because we’re going to keep doing this until I am pregnant, Hyuck.”

His grin widens as he climbs back into bed, pulling you into his arms.

“I never thought I’d hear you say that, especially not when I woke up this morning,” he laughs, pressing soft kisses along your neck.

You giggle, leaning into his touch. “What can I say? Seeing you in dad mode made me so fucking horny.”

[hyunjinsmuze]

Paint me naked

warnings: Unprotected sex, humping, grinding, nipple play,creampie, slightly subby Hyunjin (at first)

contains: ⛔️smut, slight fluff, soft dom!hyunjin

summary: When Hyunjin asks you to model for a painting, a teasing joke turns into something much deeper—and much filthier.

pairing: hyunjin x reader

words: 4.8k

You met Hyunjin on a random afternoon backstage at one of Stray Kids’ early shows before the lights, before the world knew him as more than a trainee with a pretty face and a body full of nervous energy. You weren’t part of the industry, not really. You were there tagging along with your cousin, a stylist-in-training who forgot her phone charger and begged you to bring it to the venue. You remember bumping into him—literally, shoulder against chest, awkward apologies exchanged in a cramped hallway.

He laughed, soft and polite, tucking his hair behind one ear. “Sorry, I wasn’t looking.”

Neither were you. But after that, you couldn’t stop.

It was the beginning of a slow, easy friendship. The kind that unfolds like pages in a well-worn book, comfortable, familiar, occasionally surprising. You ended up in the same coffee shops, the same late-night ramen joints, the same cramped dorm rooms where he and the other members laughed over horror movies and convenience store snacks.

What made you and Hyunjin different was the silence. Not awkward silence—never that. But the kind of quiet that hung between two people who didn’t need to fill the space with anything but presence. You understood his introverted spells, the way he disappeared into notebooks and sketchpads for days. He understood your tendency to overthink, your hesitancy to open up to new people.

He became your person. The one who texted at 2AM just to ask what the stars looked like from your window. The one who bought you hot packs in winter and made playlists for your bus rides. You never had to label it, but he was yours in a way no one else was.

He painted you once. Just your hands. He never told you he was doing it, just asked you to hold a piece of fruit one afternoon while he adjusted the lighting in his room. Weeks later, he texted you a photo of the finished piece, captioned with a single word: ‘yours.’

You didn’t ask what it meant. You didn’t have to.

Through the years, you watched him become Hyunjin—Hwang Hyunjin—idol, artist, fantasy. But he always came back to you, in small ways. A voice note here. A sketch of your favorite flower there. Movie nights, even when he was dead tired. He always had time for you, and you never questioned it.

He had other friends, of course. You weren’t delusional. But the intimacy you shared with him felt untouched, sacred. You knew what made him laugh until he cried, what song made him tear up in silence, the scent of the oil paint he used late at night.

Somewhere along the way, things shifted. You don’t know when exactly it happened, but one day you realized that your skin burned when he brushed your arm. That his gaze lingered too long when you wore off-the-shoulder tops. That when he hugged you, he held on a fraction of a second too long. That you liked it. That you craved it.

But you never crossed that line. You didn’t dare.

Hyunjin was flirtatious by nature, teasing, coy, all pouty lips and sparkly eyes—but there was something else in the way he looked at you. A softness. A depth. A quiet hunger he never acted on.

He wasn’t just pretty. He was breathtaking. Tall and lean with that graceful dancer’s body, lips made for sin, eyes that carried galaxies. And yet, he only ever seemed to look at you like you were the masterpiece.

Maybe it was fear. Maybe it was timing. Maybe it was the fact that you were so close, so intertwined, that the thought of losing him kept your desires locked behind your teeth.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

It started with a text.

hyunjin:

‘hey’

‘weird ask maybe, can i paint you?’

You were in bed when it came through. Face half-buried in your pillow, doom-scrolling past fan edits of him—shirtless, smirking, in that sheer black stage outfit you pretended not to zoom in on. You sat up, reread the message five times, then typed and deleted three different replies before finally settling on:

‘you’ve painted me before?’

He replied almost immediately.

‘not like this’

Your heart gave one of those annoying little skips. You could feel the heat pooling in your cheeks even though it was probably innocent. Probably. You waited, thumb hovering, then typed:

‘what’s “not like this” mean?’

It took him a minute. Long enough for you to overthink it, to imagine him staring at his screen, debating what to say. When the next message came through, your stomach flipped.

‘i wanna do a full portrait’

‘not just your hands or your back or whatever’

‘just you, sitting for me’

There was something about the way he said just you that made your skin tingle. Maybe it was the bluntness. Maybe it was the fact that he trusted you with this—something intimate, something artistic, something that sounded like it was more than just about a painting.

You stared at the message until your brain caught up with your body, until your fingers stopped fidgeting and your breath leveled out. Then:

‘okay. when?’

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

His studio wasn’t what you expected.

It was just a spare room in his apartment, walls splattered with dried paint, a couple of canvases leaning against the corners, a stool in the center with a single warm light trained on it. Music played softly in the background, something instrumental and moody.

He met you at the door, hair tied back in a loose bun, oversized shirt smudged with black paint. He smelled like that cologne you always associated with him, clean, sharp, with a hint of something woodsy.

“You came,” he said, smiling like he didn’t quite believe it.

“I said I would.”

“Yeah, but you say a lot of things you don’t mean.” He wasn’t teasing. Not really. There was something searching in his eyes, like he was checking to see if you felt it too, whatever it was.

You stepped inside, took in the space. “This is nice. Very you. Chaotic.”

He laughed. “It’s better when the light hits right. You’ll see.”

You dropped your bag by the door, suddenly unsure what to do with your hands. “So… what do you want me to do?”

“Just sit,” he said, already turning to grab his sketchpad. “I’m gonna start with some quick lines, get the posture right. You can relax. We’ll talk.”

You moved to the stool, adjusting your position a few times until he gave a little hum of approval. He stood a few feet away, flipping the pad open, pencil already in hand.

“Is this for a project or…?”

“Nah.” His eyes flicked up to yours, then down again. “Just for me.”

That shouldn’t have made your breath hitch. But it did.

“So,” he said, voice casual, like he hadn’t just casually short-circuited your brain, “the comeback’s almost done. Title track’s crazy. Felix has this deep part that’s gonna blow people’s minds.”

You leaned back slightly, letting yourself settle into the rhythm of it. “Is it the angry sexy kind of comeback? Or the emotional sexy kind?”

Hyunjin laughed, head still down, wrist moving in soft strokes. “Definitely angry sexy. We’re in our fuck you era.”

You grinned. “Hot.”

There was a pause. You could feel his gaze on you again, flickering between your posture and your face.

“You look good tonight.”

Your stomach did a weird, slow turn. You didn’t reply right away, just tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and shrugged. “You always say that.”

“Because it’s always true.”

He said it so easily. So simply. Like he didn’t realize the way his words sank into you, slow and warm and deep.

You glanced around, needing something to focus on. “How many people have you painted?”

He paused, pencil stalling mid-sketch. “Like… properly? Not many. You’re the only one I’ve asked to pose like this.”

You looked back at him. “Why me?”

His eyes lifted. He didn’t smile. Didn’t deflect.

“Because I know how to look at you.”

You should’ve said something clever. Should’ve laughed it off or rolled your eyes or made a joke. But the way he said it—quiet, sure, honest, left no room for anything else.

So you just breathed. Slowly. Carefully.

Then you said, “You’re flirting with me.”

He gave a soft little smirk. “Am I?”

“You are.”

“Is it working?”

You blinked. Heat surged through you in a sudden wave, hot cheeks, warm chest, pulsing low in your stomach. You opened your mouth to reply, and instead said:

“You should paint me naked.”

It came out before you could stop it. You didn’t even really mean it. It was a joke. A flirty little comment, the kind you’d made a dozen times before in less charged settings. But the second the words left your mouth, you knew they landed differently.

Hyunjin’s pencil stopped. Dead still.

He looked up at you, expression unreadable. There was a beat. Then:

“…Okay.”

Your breath caught.

“I—what?”

“I’ll paint you naked,” he said, like it was the most normal thing in the world. “If you want.”

You stared at him, frozen. “Hyunjin, I was joking.”

“I’m not.”

Silence stretched between you, thick with tension. The kind of silence that made your skin prickle. You could feel something shift in the air, something new and heavy and inevitable.

You wanted to laugh it off. But part of you didn’t.

Part of you wondered what it would feel like to let him see all of you. Not just your face or your posture or your hands—but you. Bare and unguarded and real.

And part of you, maybe a bigger part than you were ready to admit, wanted to see what he would do.

He didn’t say anything else. Just looked at you, waiting.

And before you could second-guess yourself, you reached for the hem of your shirt.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You don’t even realize what you’re doing until your shirt is halfway over your head.

You pause for a second, arms tangled in fabric, breath caught somewhere between a laugh and a gasp. You want to say something, maybe still turn it into a joke, make it light, make it easy, but when you finally pull the shirt off and toss it onto the floor, the look on Hyunjin’s face shuts your brain down completely.

His mouth is slightly open. Eyes wide. Hands still clutching his sketchpad, but the pencil’s barely hanging on between his fingers.

You’re not even naked. Just in a bra, nothing fancy, black lace with a tiny bow in the center—but suddenly it feels like you’re wearing nothing.

“...Okay,” you say, voice way too breathless to sound normal. You try to smile. “You called my bluff. Happy?”

He doesn’t answer.

He just stares.

Like he’s seeing you for the first time. Like you’re not just his friend anymore, you’re something else. Something he can’t quite believe is real.

“I can put it back on,” you offer, and your voice is smaller now, not teasing anymore. “I was just messing around.”

“Don’t,” he says, and it comes out fast. Sharp. Then softer, like he’s catching himself. “I mean… only if you want to. But don’t because of me.”

You sit back on the stool, your bare skin suddenly way too aware of the air in the room. The studio light casts soft gold across your collarbones, down the slope of your chest. You can feel his eyes on you—like heat, like weight.

You glance at him. “Are you gonna sketch or just stare?”

He laughs once, short and nervous. “Sorry. Yeah. Sketching. Sketching.”

He fumbles with his pencil, nearly drops it, then clears his throat and lowers his eyes to the pad. You catch the way his hand is shaking a little. How his jaw flexes, how his tongue flicks out to wet his bottom lip like his mouth’s gone dry.

You watch him. Watch the way his gaze keeps dragging back to your chest, your stomach, your thighs. How hard he’s trying to not look hungry. How he’s failing.

“So,” you say, like your voice isn’t a little shaky too, “what’s the, uh—what’s the vision here? Do I get a Greek goddess moment? Or are we going full Titanic?”

“Stop talking,” he mumbles, not looking up. His cheeks are flushed. “You’re making it worse.”

That makes you grin.

“Oh? What’s worse?”

“You know what.”

You tilt your head. “You’re getting turned on.”

He doesn’t answer, but the tips of his ears are red, and he shifts in his chair like he’s trying to discreetly adjust something in his lap.

You bite your lip. Your skin is tingling. Your thighs press together, involuntarily. It’s like the heat in the room has changed—like the air between you is full of static.

“I didn’t think this would actually do anything,” you admit. “I mean, we’re friends.”

“Exactly,” he says, finally looking up at you, and there’s a raw kind of intensity in his voice. “That’s why it is doing something.”

You blink. “What?”

“You’re not just some model. You’re not just a body. You’re—” He breaks off, swallows. “You’re you. And you’re sitting there, all beautiful and confident and half-naked, and I’m supposed to just draw you like it’s nothing?”

You don’t know what to say. You don’t even know what you’re feeling.

You’d thought this would be a joke. That he’d laugh, roll his eyes, maybe throw a pillow at you. But instead you’re both buzzing. Breathing like you’ve been running. Hearts pounding. Every second that passes feels more and more dangerous.

You shift slightly on the stool, crossing one leg over the other, and you see the way his eyes drop. You see the subtle flex in his hands. The rise in his chest.

He’s hard. You’re sure of it now. There’s a subtle tension in the way he sits, a stiffness in his posture that has nothing to do with his sketch.

And the worst, or maybe best, part?

You’re getting there too.

You feel warm all over. Every time his eyes flick to you, you get this pulse between your legs—this low, throbbing ache that makes you want to move, to shift, to do something.

And suddenly you’re wondering what it would feel like if he touched you.

Not in some grand, dramatic way. Not all at once. But something small. The brush of his fingers along your thigh. The backs of his knuckles down your ribcage. His mouth on your neck.

You swallow hard.

“You okay?” he asks quietly, voice low and tight.

You nod. But then your voice betrays you. “Are you?”

His throat works. “No.”

And you don’t know what possesses you, maybe it’s the ache building low in your belly, maybe it’s the way his eyes look like he’s trying not to devour you—but the words slip out before you can stop them.

“Do you… want help?”

His entire body goes still.

You clarify, because you have to, because if you don’t you’ll explode. “With… with your hard-on.”

There. You said it.

And he looks at you like you just offered him something sacred. His lips part. His pupils are blown wide, chest rising and falling fast.

He nods.

Once.

Twice.

Three times, frantic and desperate, like the words aren’t coming fast enough.

“Please.”

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The moment the word please leaves his mouth, something shifts.

Hyunjin—your shy, soft-spoken best friend who blushes when you compliment his jawline, is staring at you like he’s about to fall apart. And you’re not much better. Your body is buzzing. Throat dry. Every nerve alive and humming.

You stand slowly, moving off the stool. The silence is so heavy it feels like a third body in the room.

He doesn’t move.

You step closer.

He still doesn’t move—but his breath hitches when you reach for the sketchpad, gently pulling it out of his hands and setting it on the floor beside the chair. His fingers graze yours, barely, but it’s enough to make your stomach clench.

“Okay,” you whisper.

Your hand moves carefully to the waistband of his sweats. You don’t pull, not yet. You’re watching his face, the way his lashes flutter, the way his mouth trembles with restraint. He’s letting you lead, nervous and desperate, completely open, like he’ll shatter if you stop.

You lean in, close enough that your breath fans against his ear.

“You’re so hard,” you murmur, almost a purr.

He whimpers.

Actually, whimpers.

You smile a little, heat pooling between your legs. “Thought you said you could handle it.”

“I can’t,” he breathes. “Not—not when it’s you.”

You kiss him.

There’s no hesitation. No second-guessing. Just mouths crashing together, all heat and hunger and months—years—of buried tension finally snapping loose. His lips are soft but eager, a little clumsy with how badly he wants you. He tilts his head, groaning into the kiss, hands gripping the arms of the chair like if he touches you too soon he’ll lose control.

You straddle him slowly, your knees on either side of his hips, settling into his lap.

And fuck, you can feel it now, his cock straining against the thin fabric of his sweats, pressing up against the soft part of your panties. It makes your hips jerk without meaning to.

He gasps.

“You feel that?” you whisper, brushing your nose against his. “You’re so hard for me, Jinnie.”

“Fuck,” he moans, head falling back. His neck arches and you take your chance, leaning down to kiss down the column of his throat, sucking gently just below his ear.

His whole body trembles.

You roll your hips, slow and deliberate, grinding down against him. The friction sends a shock through you, your clit catching just right against the fabric. It’s not enough, but it’s so good.

He’s breathing hard now, little gasps leaving his parted lips. His hands are twitching at his sides, and when one finally lifts, shaky, hesitant—you guide it to your waist.

“Touch me,” you say. “You can.”

That’s all it takes. His hands slide up your sides, warm and wide, fingers splaying across your back like he needs to hold you in place. He looks up at you like he’s still not convinced this is real.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, voice cracking. “I don’t—fuck, I don’t even know what I’m doing—”

“You’re doing perfect.”

You kiss him again, slower this time. Deeper. Letting your tongue trace his, dragging your fingers into his hair and tugging just enough to make him moan. He bucks his hips up into you, instinctive, needy, and the pressure makes you both gasp.

You whisper against his lips, “You want me to take it off?”

His eyes flick down to your bra. He swallows hard. Nods.

You reach behind you, unhook it slowly, then let the straps slide down your arms. The second it hits the floor, his eyes go wide—hungry. Like he wants to memorize every inch of you, paint you again and again, frame you in gold.

He reaches up with both hands, cupping your breasts carefully, reverently.

“Can I?” he whispers, thumbs brushing your nipples.

You nod.

He leans in, mouth warm against your skin, kissing along the curve before flicking his tongue over one nipple. You arch, grinding into him harder, and he groans, low and filthy, all breath and heat.

“Jinnie…”

“I can’t take it,” he gasps. “I need—fuck, I need more.”

His hands slide down to your hips, gripping tight, guiding your movements now. The rhythm builds, your clothed cores grinding together, wet heat meeting hard desperation, the friction slick and perfect. Your breath stutters. You feel yourself clenching around nothing, aching for more.

“Do you feel how wet I am for you?” you whisper. “I’m soaking through my panties.”

His hands tremble.

“You can touch,” you say. “If you want.”

His fingers hook in the waistband of your underwear so fast it’s almost funny, shaky and eager, like he’s scared you’ll change your mind. You help him slide them down, then press back into his lap, bare now, wet and swollen and hot.

The first touch is electric.

His fingers slip between your folds, slow and shaky, and when he finds your clit you both gasp.

“Holy shit,” he breathes. “You’re—fuck, you’re dripping.”

You bite your lip, rocking against his hand. “You make me like this.”

He kisses you again, deeper, hungrier. His fingers rub tight little circles, then dip lower, teasing your entrance.

“I wanna be inside you,” he whispers. “But I don’t wanna rush. I wanna feel everything.”

“We will,” you promise, kissing him back. “But I wanna make you feel good first.”

He looks up at you, eyes wide. “I’m gonna come if you keep doing this.”

You grin. “That’s the point.”

You reach down, slipping your hand into his sweats. The second your fingers wrap around him, he shudders—eyes fluttering, hips jerking into your palm.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” he moans. “Y/N—please—”

“You’re so big, Jinnie.”

He whimpers again, so pretty, and you stroke him slowly, matching the rhythm of your hips.

You’re both sweating now, breath ragged, moaning into each other’s mouths as you grind and stroke and kiss like you’re starving. You can feel your orgasm building—tight and hot and close.

“I wanna come on your cock,” you whisper. “I wanna feel you inside me.”

He nods like he’s possessed.

“I want that too,” he pants. “Please. Let me—let me fuck you—”

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You pause at the sound of his voice.

Hyunjin’s face is flushed, eyes heavy and glazed with need, hair sticking to his damp forehead. His chest is rising and falling fast, lips parted as he stares up at you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he blinks.

“Say it again,” you whisper, fingers resting against his bare stomach.

His jaw flexes.

“I want to fuck you,” he says again, this time firmer, his voice low and strained, like it’s burning his throat on the way out. “Please. Let me.”

You lean in close, letting your forehead press against his, your noses brushing.

“Then do it.”

He lets out a shaky breath. “I don’t have a condom—”

“I’m on the pill,” you whisper. “And I trust you.”

That’s all it takes.

He moves fast—like something inside him just snaps. His hands slide down to your ass, gripping tight as he lifts you up placing you on one of his tables in the room with surprising strength, mouth crashing onto yours in a bruising kiss. He’s not shy anymore. His body presses into yours, fully, completely, like he’s trying to mold himself against you.

“Tell me if I do too much,” he says, breath hot against your mouth. “Tell me if you want to stop.”

You nod, breathless. “I won’t want to stop.”

He kisses down your chest, licking over your nipples until you’re arching under him, legs falling open on instinct. His hands trail down your stomach, your thighs, until he’s slipping a finger between your folds again, and this time, it’s so much slicker. You’re soaked.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “You’re so wet for me.”

“For you,” you pant, gripping his shoulders. “Only you.”

He groans like he’s in pain, rocking his hips forward just once, grinding his cock against your entrance, dragging the thick head through your folds. The friction makes your whole body tense, hips lifting to chase the sensation.

“Please, Hyunjin,” you whimper. “I need you inside me.”

He presses his forehead to yours.

“Look at me,” he says, voice ragged. “I want to watch your face when I’m inside you.”

You do. You hold his gaze.

And then—slowly, carefully, he pushes inside.

The stretch is dizzying. He’s thick, long, and he goes slow, easing in inch by inch, his jaw clenched tight like he’s trying not to lose control. Your body clenches around him instinctively, and you gasp, your hands flying to his arms.

“F-fuck,” you stammer. “Hyunjin—you're so big—”

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he pants, voice shaking. “I’ll stop. I’ll wait—”

“No,” you gasp. “Don’t stop. Don’t you dare stop.”

He groans, deep and guttural, and finally sinks all the way in.

For a second, you both just breathe. Your bodies flush together, your chest pressed to his, every inch of him filling you perfectly. You feel split open, wrecked, full, but in the best way.

“I’ve wanted this,” he whispers. “For so long.”

You cup his face, pull him into a kiss, and then he starts to move.

The first thrust is slow, testing, dragging his cock out almost all the way before pushing back in deep. You both moan, eyes fluttering shut. His hands are everywhere now, your hips, your waist, your face, like he can’t decide which part of you to hold onto.

The pace builds quickly.

Soft grunts spill from his lips as he fucks into you—deep and rhythmic, grinding with each thrust. He’s still gentle, still careful, but the desperation is bleeding through. His hips slap against yours, the sound obscene in the studio silence, and you can’t stop the way you’re clinging to him—fingers tangled in his hair, thighs wrapped around his waist, pulling him in harder.

“God, you feel—” he chokes on a breath, “you feel so fucking good.”

You tighten around him, intentionally this time, and he gasps.

“Fuck…don’t do that,” he groans. “I’m not gonna last.”

“Then come,” you whisper. “I want you to. Come inside me, Hyunjin.”

He growls, actually growls, and pins your wrists above your head with one hand, the other gripping your hip tight as he starts fucking you harder. Not rough, exactly, but deep, urgent, hungry. Like he needs to bury himself in you and never leave.

Your orgasm builds like a tidal wave, tight and sharp, curling through your spine.

“I’m-fuck…I’m gonna~” you cry out, legs shaking.

“Come,” he gasps. “Come on my cock, baby. Let me feel it.”

And when you do, it rips through you like fire, your whole body seizing, walls fluttering around him as you scream his name. He’s right behind you, cursing under his breath as he thrusts deep one last time, spilling inside you with a loud, broken moan.

You stay like that, panting, trembling, pressed together, for a long moment.

Then he lowers himself gently onto your chest, still inside you, kissing your collarbone.

“...Holy shit,” he whispers.

You laugh, breathy, dazed. “That’s one way to end a sketch session.”

He huffs a laugh too, then kisses your neck, your jaw, your lips.

“I’m never gonna be able to paint you the same again,” he says softly.

You smile.

“Good.”

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The studio is quiet now.

No more breathless gasps, no desperate sounds of skin on skin, just the slow hum of the fan in the corner and the afterglow settling between your bodies like a blanket. You’re lying on the floor with him, tangled together on a half-unrolled canvas drop cloth, skin sticking slightly where your legs are wrapped around his.

Your chest rises and falls slowly. He’s beside you, arm slung around your waist, cheek resting on your shoulder. Still catching his breath.

He hasn’t said much since.

But he hasn’t let go of you, either.

You glance down at him, brushing your fingers through his messy, sweaty hair. “Hey.”

He lifts his head a little, just enough to meet your eyes.

“You okay?” you ask, and the softness in your voice surprises even you. You’re still breathless, still flushed, but the concern is real. You care. Maybe too much.

Hyunjin nods immediately. “Yeah. Yeah—I’m okay. Just…”

He pauses, lips parting, eyes searching yours.

“I don’t want this to mess anything up.”

Your heart clenches.

“Me neither,” you whisper. “But… it doesn’t feel like a mistake, right?”

He shakes his head. “No. Not even close.”

A pause.

Then he reaches beside him and grabs one of his oversized hoodies from the floor, black, soft, probably worn to death. He helps you pull it over your head, careful and gentle like he’s afraid of hurting you. It’s warm, smells like him, and falls way past your thighs.

You watch him quietly as he tugs his own shirt back on.

There’s a faint pink flush still on his cheeks, but his eyes are softer now. Sweeter. He leans in and presses a kiss to your forehead.

“I’m glad it was you,” he says. “If it was ever gonna be anyone, I wanted it to be you.”

Your heart twists, full and aching. You nod.

He walks you to the door like a gentleman, hand at the small of your back. When you step outside into the cool night air, he hesitates.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asks.

You grin. “You better.”

And when you walk away, his hoodie hanging off your body, your thighs still tingling from the hours before,you realize this isn’t just a shift.

It’s a beginning.

@hwangjoanna @penguins-in-space @sammhisphere

A/N comment if u wanna be added to the tag list, and if you have any request, feel free to send them on my profile

[ikeukiss]

BUT DADDY I LOVE HIM | 심재윤

⟢ PAIRING: sim (jake) jaeyun x fem!reader ⟢ WORD COUNT: 10.2K ⟢ GENRE: fluff, angst, smut ⟢ TAGS: badboy!au, innocent!reader, opposites attract, sexual tension, corruption kink, dirty talk, fingering, oral (m + f receiving), 69, pet names (baby, angel, etc.), face sitting, protected sex. ⟢ SYNOPSIS: Just because there's a new and seemingly bad influence in your small town, it doesn't mean you have to fall privy to his charms, no matter how beautiful he is. But when he takes notice of you, none of the gossiping wine moms can stop him from getting what he wants. ➸ shoutout to @kwanisms and @mini-mews for helping this fic come to fruition, ily guys sm and this is genuinely one of my favorite pieces ive ever written aaa.

“Have you heard about the new family who moved into town? The son is a real piece of work!”

“He’s twenty-one but acts like he’s still sixteen on that damn motorcycle. No class or consideration whatsoever!”

“Maybe they’ll keep him in check if they decide to come to church this weekend. You know Reverend Park has no time for miscreants and delinquents.”

The familiar crowd on your mother’s front porch greets you as you’re attempting to exit the house. They cool themselves off with their makeshift fans and drink your mother’s homemade lemonade in the Saturday sun, continuing to harp on the locals in town that they’ve known for years.

Somewhere in their conversation, they drifted to the topic of the new family that moved in across the street. Three days was all it took for them to begin spouting their judgemental observations, every act from the new middle-aged couple and their son fodder for their discussion.

You smile politely with every fiber of your being, despite your instincts to snap at them and be on your merry way. If only they knew how ironic they are, pointing fingers at others from their high horses when the town kept enough space for their dirty little secrets. “Nice to see you this morning, ladies.”

They say your name with grace, their tones all air with little substance. “On your way to bible study?” Mrs. Choi asks, gazing at you from the rim of her glass.

You shake your head. “Just tutoring.”

“With the Nishimura boy? What a sweet kid.” When Riki’s name leaves Mrs. Lee’s lips, all the women hum in agreement. “Such a bright future ahead of him.”

“Of course, as long as he passes English,” you joke. The women’s faces don’t change, not taking your teasing with an ounce of anything but seriousness. The bags under their eyes, lipstick smudged in the tiny corners of their teeth, and piercing attitudes begin to damper your excitement for the day. You bid them goodbye quickly with another smile, walking down the stairs and onto the path down the street.

As you turn down the sidewalk, still hearing the resounding chatter from the women, your thoughts run wild. Is this what life would be like when you were older, doing nothing but kicking your feet up on a neighbor’s porch with only other people’s business to fill your time? Spending endless days and nights at church, listening to the same sermons leave Reverend Park’s lips until you become as overly critical as they all are?

The screech of tires halts your thoughts in their place. “Watch it!” A young man’s voice pierces the morning air, making you step back even further. You hadn’t realized how far you had walked into the road until you were back on the safety of the sidewalk. You trip on a crack between the two slabs of concrete, falling backwards and meeting the ground hard.

“Shit, are you okay?” He takes his helmet off, immediately hooking it to his handlebars to check on you.

Sim Jaeyun.

You had not met him formally until this moment, but the motorcycle and undeniable looks gave away his status as your new neighbor. Your parents had decided to let the new family settle in before trying to visit and introduce themselves. If they could see you now, your maxi skirt hitched up to your knees and the boy barely a foot away from you, they would have had a field day.

Sure, you both are of age. Butlike Mrs. Choi, Mrs. Lee, and other local townsfolk always do, people will talk about such a compromising position if you aren’t careful.

All those thoughts fade away though when Jake kneels beside you, his face flooded with concern. His eyes linger on the broken skin on your legs and then across your flushed face. “Does it hurt?”

You shake your head. “It’s barely a scratch. Sorry I almost ran into you.”

“More like almost ran into my bike.” He laughs, his expression one of relief as well as humor. “I’m just glad you’re in one piece.”

“Thank the lord.” You brush your hands on your skirt and begin to stand up, but Jake grabs you by the hand to help, taking all your weight with him.

“Thank you,” you say, brushing the free hair from your braid out of your face.

“You’re welcome.” He unclips his helmet from the bar and gestures back to his bike. “I can drive you to wherever you’re going if you want. I don’t have a second helmet, but–”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes your lips, the thought of riding on the back of a motorcycle too ridiculous to envision given your status as the deacon’s daughter. What would people say?

Jake just furrows his brows, his lips turning up at the corners. “Is my offer that funny?”

“No,” you say, “I would love to, it’s just–”

“Sim Jaeyun!” The shrill sound of Mrs. Choi’s voice makes you take another step away from Jake, unaware you were as close as you were to him. His presence seems to be magnetic, just like his smile. “Stay away from her or so help me God!”

Jake turns to the old woman down the road and nods his head, trying to be respectful but clearly irritated from her meddling. “Yes ma’am,” he yells, stepping back and getting closer to his bike.

“Maybe another time,” Jake says, “when you’re not flocked by the whining wine moms.”

You laugh and nod. “Maybe.”

Jake rides away on his bike, the wispy ends of his hair your last picture of him before he makes a sharp turn at the end of your street.

“Why do I need to learn this?” Riki groans, laying his head flat against his desk. The church bells ring as he knocks his head in the same rhythm against the polished wood.

“Because you need to be able to interpret text if you want to go off to college, Nishi. Otherwise you’ll be illiterate and an embarrassment to the entire town!” You put on your best harping, disapproving voice. It makes Riki laugh as he lifts his head. You’re glad at least the younger kids appreciate your sense of humor, unlike the older brood flooding your hometown.

“Alright, fine.” He opens his copy of Heart of Darkness, beginning to read the page in front of him. “I avoided a vast artificial hole somebody had been digging on the slope…”

A knock on the classroom door makes you and Riki turn. Yeri opens it with a shy grin, saying your name with the same nature. “Someone’s here to see you!”

“Who?”

“Some cute guy on a motorcycle? But don’t tell Jungwon I said that!” She runs back out the door and leaves you puzzled. Surely it’s not Jake. You just met him; he wouldn’t make the effort to try and follow you to your tutoring session, especially at the church of all places.

You head to the window to see Jake sitting against his bike, looking around at his surroundings. He’s wearing the same leather jacket and gray jeans, his white shirt marked with several spots of sweat. Riki comes up behind you, making a sound of acknowledgement. “Oh, that’s Jake!”

“Jake?” You look closer. “I thought his name was Jaeyun.”

“Yeah, but I call him Jake.” He laughs. “He’s my cousin.”

You nod your head, taking in his words. Jake’s sudden move made a lot more sense, seeing as Riki’s mother was getting sicker every day. She must have needed some help from her family to not only manage her household, but make sure Riki stayed on track.

“He probably wants to see you. Yeri must’ve gotten it all mixed up.”

Riki grabs his phone, scrolling through texts with his thumb. “Actually, he did mention almost running over a cute girl on his way to work.” The young boy smirks. “I’m gonna assume that’s you?”

You blush, the flush on your cheeks making you feel hot. “Whatever. He’s probably just picking you up!”

“I brought my own bicycle, dude. And as cool as Jake is, his driving makes me nauseous.” Riki begins packing up his belongings on the desk as you wonder what Jake would want to say that hadn’t already been said earlier. Surely he had no interest in talking to you beyond another apology for almost killing you earlier, not that you would have noticed.

As your thoughts continue on, you barely hear Riki’s parting words. “Have fun making out with my cousin!”

You venture outside and are greeted to Jake’s soft smile as he looks you over. “Didn’t expect you to be teaching my cousin how to read.”

You laugh. “When would that have come up? Before or after I fell face-first on the sidewalk?”

“Technically, you fell on your ass.” He looks over the cuts on your leg again. “Still doesn’t hurt?”

“Barely remember it.”

“Damn. Didn’t realize I was so forgettable,” he teases. You shuck your backpack over your shoulder, pretending his joke didn’t land. But you can’t help how your mouth curves into a grin. “Wanna take me up on that ride now? I don’t see any wine moms in sight.”

Being clear headed and not in the midst of a compromising position, you take a better look at Jake. He may look rugged from the neck down, muscles standing out through his jacket, but his face is incredibly youthful and vulnerable without a touch of hardness. Maybe the wine moms had gotten it wrong; maybe Jake’s actually a stand-up guy bundled up in a lot of leather.

Before you can answer, your father seems to appear from thin air. He wraps his arm around your shoulder. “Mr. Sim, pleasure to meet you officially.”

Your father holds out his hand for Jake, and Jake takes it with a steadfast grip. “Nice to meet you too sir. My mother was telling me how much you’ve been helping my aunt since she can’t attend services anymore.”

“Akemi is a pillar of our church. It’s only right to take care of one of our own as the deacon.” Your father squeezes you tighter to his side. “Glad to see you and my daughter have met. I hope she’s made a good impression upon you.”

“Yes sir. Very much so.” He smiles in your direction. The dimple in his cheek makes your heart flutter in your chest, the butterflies undeniable.

“Well, please tell your parents to come to ours soon for dinner. It would be a pleasure.” Your father begins the quick walk to his car, the silent request for you to follow him clear in his stern posture. You give Jake an apologetic smile before you leave, hoping your eyes hold the promise of taking him up on that ride someday.

When you’re both out of earshot and in the confines of your father’s car, he turns to you with a frown. “Do not get yourself involved with that boy. He doesn’t strike me as very forthcoming.”

You stutter out an excuse. Surely the first day of knowing Jake wouldn’t be the last. “F-Father–”

“Listen to me, sweetie. I know what I’m talking about.” He starts the car and begins the drive home, tightening his fists on the steering wheel. “I mean it. Do not see that boy again.”

The next morning, you’re sitting in one of the front pews with your mother, Yeri, and her mother. You see your fellow townsfolk in attendance in the other pews, Jungwon being one of them, Yeri’s longtime boyfriend. Mrs. Choi and Mrs. Lee look like they are partially focused on the attendees, but also on their own gossip.

All of you are dressed in your best outfits, your hair wrapped in a bun to maintain the peak of modesty. It doesn’t seem particularly realistic for a higher power to be judging you for your hairdo, but you gave in to your mother’s ridiculous requests as always. “We are important people in this community, darling,” your mother said as she stuck the umpteenth bobby pin in your hair. “If they can’t trust us, who can they trust?”

Riki sits behind you, his pew empty save for him. When you offer the empty spot next to you before the procession starts, he shakes his head. “Jake and his folks will be here any second.”

Your gut tightens, the words of your father playing over in your head. You know you have to heed his orders at all times, but the excitement you feel at the prospect of seeing Jake is unavoidable.

A minute before your childhood friend Heeseung sits at the piano to play the beginning of How Great Is Our God, Jake and his family walk inside. Jake’s impeccably dressed, clad in a red dress-shirt and suit pants. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, revealing a handful of tattoos you didn’t notice the day prior. He has his mother’s arm in one hand and a bible in the other, looking completely out of place but incredibly mesmerizing.

He winks at you when he sits down, making you turn your head back to your friend at the piano. You follow in your mother’s and Yeri’s lead, singing alongside them and forgetting the new buzz in your veins. You can feel his eyes on you throughout the songs and sermons, and you should say that you don’t enjoy it, but you don't kid yourself. His attention makes your body tingle in all the right and wrong ways.

You excuse yourself in the intermission, walking outside until you’re a good ten paces away from the church. You take several pins out of your hair, grunting. The incessant tools had been scratching your scalp uncomfortably for the past three hours, and it feels like freedom taking them out one at a time.

It isn’t that you don’t believe in a higher power or the teachings your father and Reverend Park have supplied you with your entire life. The town is just too suffocating on days like these, setting you up to feel like you aren’t good enough no matter how hard you try every day to perfect yourself.

The fashion show of your humble, presentable outfit, the whispered chatter from your community, the watchful eyes of holy men. They all make your skin crawl, that itch only intensifying with every day that passes. How could you stay in such a small room for years and feel misunderstood by everyone? 

Jake saunters up to you, making you gasp in surprise. “Jesus Christ!”

He smirks, hands stuffed in his pockets. “I thought you weren’t supposed to say his name in vain.”

You shrug, smiling in relief to find it’s just him and nobody else. No-one to meddle, judge, or question your absence. “I’ll just say a few words of penance. I’m sure he’ll forgive me.”

“I knew there was a reason I liked you.” Jake chuckles and steps closer to you, his eyes lingering on your dress. It’s incredibly modest, the only skin showing high above your cleavage. but the look in his eyes still makes your nerves tremble.

 You wonder what thoughts are swimming in his head and if a majority of them are impure. Would it be so wrong to confess that you feel the same? That whatever he’s imagining mirrors your own fantasies ten times over?

“The updo doesn’t suit you,” he says finally.

You giggle and cross your arms. “It doesn’t, huh?”

He steps closer, so close you can feel his breath on your skin. It lingers across your neck and shoulder blades. You shudder, hoping he doesn’t notice how his presence affects you. He reaches behind you and takes hold of the hair tie keeping your bun together. He expertly undoes it, your hair falling in waves around your shoulders.

Before he walks away, the church bells signaling the recommencement of the procession, he whispers in your ear, “Much more breathtaking with your hair down, angel.”

The next time you see Jake, he’s across from you at your family’s dinner table, all laughs with Jungwon and Yeri as your father passes out the rest of the side dishes. Riki is also there, discussing his mother’s treatment with your mother and Jake’s parents.

You can’t help the way your eyes attach to Jake across from you. It’s almost a form of punishment that you were made to sit in such close proximity, the weight of his stare on you swallowing you whole.

The feeling of his hand in your hair, his mouth against your ear–it was all so incredibly inappropriate. You shouldn’t have thought about that day last week with such excruciating frequency, but you did. You thought about it when you heard the wine moms whispering about Jake on your porch, when Yeri and Jungwon talked about him as you studied, and when you were alone at night. 

In your dreams, it was even more painful. In a perfect world, he would take his hand from your hair and keep it on your neck, holding you close. He would move his lips from the shell of your ear to the side of your neck, kissing and tasting what skin was available to him in that moment to make you come undone.

Yes, sitting across from him is torment. But the alternative is worse, not seeing him at all and having to conjure images of him alone in the quiet of your bedroom.

“Deacon, sir,” Jungwon pipes up from his spot next to Jake, addressing your father directly. “I was going to study with Jaeyun and Yeri at my house if you wouldn’t mind your daughter tagging along.”

The muscle in your father’s jaw clenches. He’s clearly unhappy with one of the attendees being Jake, but he hides it behind a smile. “It’s up to her. What do you think, sweetie?”

On one hand, you should absolutely say no. Jake may take you into a random spot of Jungwon’s house and make any resolve you still have disappear with the flick of his wrist. Even in the company of your friends, you know no place is safe when he’s around and close to you. And were you willing to crumble so easily?

At the same time, the distance is eating away at you. You can’t take another charged glance in your direction, words unspoken but begging to be released. If you have to catch his bedroom eyes on your body one more time, you may just snap in front of everyone, and care little when you do.

“Sure. I’d love to, Wonie,” you say with a grin. “Nishi, you want to come too?”

Riki shakes his head, enjoying the fruitcake your mom set out. “I’ll stay. Someone has to help clean up.” Jake’s mom squeezes one of his cheeks. Riki’s face suddenly turns pink from his aunt’s affection, making everyone laugh.

On your way out the door, your father catches you by the arm. He whispers, “No later than midnight. Understood?”

On the cusp of 10 PM, you want to protest that time with your friends is already so limited, but you obey with a nod and walk out the door. 

When you get in the backseat of Jungwon’s car, Jake too comfortable beside you, you feel your body flicker to life. “So,” you say, “your house then, Won?”

Yeri and Jungwon laugh, a conspiratory look in both of their eyes. “We’re just gonna make a quick stop first.”

Kiss ‘Em Creek was the unofficial name of the lake that ran through your town, a spot for teenagers to spend a few hours alone with their friends or partners. It wasn’t scientifically-correct, but it stuck nonetheless, many of the locals taking advantage of the not-so-secret hideaway. What went on there you only heard about through Yeri and the wine moms’ conversations, their voices littered with disappointment and condemnation.

Jungwon parks his car and turns his eyes to meet yours in the rearview mirror, that scheming smile still playing on his lips. “Ready to take a dip?”

Your eyes widen. You shake your head at a rapid pace, making your friends and Jake chuckle. “No way,” you say.

“C’mon babe, live a little!” Yeri winks and exits the car, Jungwon hot on her heels. The two of them begin to strip to their underwear, eager to jump in the water together. Jungwon picks her up in a bridal carry, Yeri laughing the entire way as he takes the first step into the awaiting lake.

As the two lovebirds continue heading towards the water, you and Jake sit in comfortable silence, your heartbeat slowly rising at the prospect of being alone in the car together. No distractions, no disappointed parents, no judgemental hags. Just the two of you under a cloud of stars and beautiful moonlight.

“I didn’t know if you would come tonight,” Jake says, filling the silence with a quiet chuckle. “Thought you were avoiding me at all costs, like I’m some kind of plague.”

“No!” You turn in your seat to face him. His expression is teasing but holds undercurrents of disappointment, clearly confused where your feelings lie. And he has every right to feel that way. One minute you’re wishing he would pull you closer, and the next you feel it’s better he keeps his distance. “I just don’t know what your intentions are.”

His eyes darken and his lips curve into a beautiful but intimidating smile. “Is it not obvious?”

You squeeze your thighs together, a wave of heat spreading through your bones. “Maybe I just want you to say it out loud.”

He scoots closer to you, his chest a heartbeat away from yours. “Well, to start,” he says, “I would really like to kiss you.”

You smile. A breathless laugh leaves your lips, eager to know what it would feel like to touch his mouth to yours. “I’d like that too.”

Jake runs a hand through your hair and rests it on your cheek. His touch is as fragile as the tension between you. “Then what are you so afraid of?”

You shut your eyes, trying to come up with the right words and falling short. “It’s just everyone–”

“Fuck everyone else.” He forces you to look into his eyes, the words leaving his mouth being some of the truest ones you’ve ever heard in your life. “You’re not a bad person or a sinner for wanting what you want.”

“I know that.”

“You may know it but you don’t believe it.” Jake’s lips ghost over yours, his breath tickling your cheeks. “Stop thinking about what everyone else thinks of you. Think of yourself for once.”

Maybe Jake’s right. All of your choices in life have been dictated by what your parents, friends, and total strangers have felt. If you listened to your own heart, you would have left all of them in the dust by now, chasing what you really wanted far away from this place.

At the same time, you’re glad to be in this car with Jake. He’s so close to you, telling you to take the leap and choose yourself for the first time in a long time.

When you press your lips to his, the feeling of his mouth on yours soft and tentative, you know you can’t wake up tomorrow the same person. This choice will ripple into all the choices you make from this moment on, but you don’t seem to care.

All that matters is his mouth, taking more control and setting a fire deep in your belly. He presses his tongue to the juncture of your lips, diving inside without protest.

You moan into his mouth, feeling one hand firmly pressed on your neck as the other runs down your shirt to squeeze at your breast through your clothes.

“Fuck, tell me to stop,” Jake says with a heady whisper, still kneading your breast with his palm. “Tell me to stop if you don’t want this.”

You shake your head, moving closer to him to the point you’re halfway on his lap, legs intertwined with his. “So help me God, don’t stop now.”

He snickers, pecking your lips again. “You said his name in vain again.”

You roll your eyes as he chuckles into your neck. “That wasn’t the first thing on my mind.” You move your lips to his cheek. “Or the second.” They trail down to his neck, taking your fantasies and etching them into his skin. “Or third.”

“Fuck,” Jake curses, holding you tight against him. “You’re too good at this.”

You smirk. “Contrary to popular belief, you’re not the first person I’ve ever kissed.”

He laughs, the rumble of it vibrating against your mouth. “I don’t care as long as you keep kissing me.”

“Wasn’t planning on stopping.” By the time you reattach your mouth to his, you’re straddling his lap. His hands are nestled on the small of your back, wanting to inch down further but unsure where or what your boundaries are.

You take the initiative, suddenly bold, and put both of his palms on your backside. “If you wanted to touch my ass, you could’ve just said so.”

Jake licks his lips, his accent coming out in a husky whisper. “I want to touch you in a lot of places. Your ass just happens to be easily accessible right now.”

“Oh really?” You giggle. “Care to enlighten me?”

Jake sharply switches positions, your back against the expanse of the backseat as he towers over you. He rubs his hands across the outside of your thighs, eager but patient. “Gladly.”

He kisses your neck, suckling and licking with perfect pressure, making you whimper. “Jaeyun,” you say out loud, his name coming out like a question more than a statement.

“Use your words, angel. Tell me what you want.” His eyes pass over your face, your kissable lips and lust-blown irises. You’re too entrenched in him now to walk away from this car the same girl, and you wouldn’t want it any other way.

It may end badly, crash and burn completely like everyone expects it to, but that’s the last thing you care about right now.

“I want you to touch me.” You take one of his hands on your thighs and place it over your underwear, its center damp.

“Jesus,” he says in wonder, rubbing his fingers against the cotton.

“You just said–oh,” you stop short when you feel Jake’s fingers against your clit. The sensation makes you buck your hips up into him, him discovering the bundle of nerves without trying hard. He’s clearly happy at the wetness he finds. He rubs your folds in the same fashion, biting down on his bottom lip hard.

“You feel so good already. So perfect,” he whispers, taking hold of your lips again with his own while he swirls his fingers in and around your essence. He switches between teasing your clit and rubbing along your pussy, his movements lewd yet graceful. Only when he puts a finger inside of you do you gasp and look at him directly, your eyes clearly giving away your fear.

“What’s wrong, angel? Did I do something?” Concern floods his face, but he doesn’t take his hand away.

“I’ve never gone this far,” you confess, looking to your side to hide your embarrassment.

“Hey, look at me.” He turns your head to face him again, fingers laying under your chin softly. “We can stop now if you want. I don’t want you to feel pressured into doing anything you don’t want to do.”

His response makes your heart clench. Most guys, you’d imagine, would be pissed off or pleading with you to continue on, to do what they wanted and enjoy the moment. That was how Jongseong was, pouting the entire time after you told him to pump the brakes on your makeout sessions.

Somehow, with Jake, it feels right to continue. You suddenly have no anxiety clouding your thoughts or expectations weighing on your heart. You kiss his lips tenderly and shake your head. “No, I want this. I want you.”

A cheshire-cat grin spreads across his face before he goes in for another kiss. He runs his tongue along the inside of your mouth as his finger slides across your folds once again. He plunges it deep inside of your heat, your body adjusting to the new sensation with surprising ease.

You thrash lightly underneath him, matching the tempo of his finger with abandon. He slips another digit in, groaning at the feeling of your soft, gummy walls becoming accustomed to him. “You’re taking my fingers so well, angel. ‘S fucking incredible.”

You gasp and feel the fire from earlier heightening in intensity, spreading from your belly into the other seams of your body. It makes your toes curl and your hand press against one of the doors of Jungwon’s car, needing something to clutch onto while feeling yourself losing what’s left of your control.

“Jaeyun, I think I–”

“I know baby,” he says, pressing his lips to your forehead. “You’re going to feel so good in a second, I promise. Don’t be afraid.”

His thumb makes contact with your neglected clit, rubbing in rapid motions as he pumps his fingers faster in and out of you. You suddenly become overloaded with pleasure; its immensity is something you’ve never felt before. You feel it coat the back of your mouth and take what’s left of your rational senses, your body moving on its own accord as you ride out what’s remaining of your orgasm.

You blush furiously when you come back down to earth, giggling like a schoolgirl as Jake kisses your sweat-drenched cheek. “That was…amazing.”

Jake chuckles, a smirk painting his features. “You’re amazing.”

You tuck your face in your hands, embarrassed but still enraptured by what you just experienced. He pulls one hand away, taking it in his own, his expression suddenly shy. “So, I guess this is the part where I ask you on a proper date.”

You laugh and sit up, placing your panties back around your hips and adjusting your skirt. “I would hope so!”

Jungwon and Yeri choose that moment to run back into the car, their hair drenched but their bodies properly dressed once again. Jungwoon looks at the two of you in the backseat and grimaces. “Not in my car, man!”

Despite the warnings from your parents and the wine moms, you and Jake had become inseparable within a month’s time. It took many late-night impromptu meetings and secret rendezvous to keep your relationship private, but you had succeeded thus far. And it only made the moments you both shared that much more special.

Riki had kept your secret, keeping his eyes out for any prying townsfolk and covering for his cousin and you if need be. Yeri and Jungwon also cheered you on from the shadows, hoping one day you could be public like they were without criticism.

Sitting in the field near the lake, a picnic blanket set across the grass, you have your head in Jake’s lap while he absentmindedly turns strands of your hair into miniature braids. It’s a beautiful Wednesday afternoon, the two of you occupying the resounding forest with no outside influences.

“Have I told you lately how beautiful your hair is?” Jake asks, kissing your forehead before he takes another batch of strands in his hand. If he has to pick one of your best attributes, in his words, he’d say it was a tie between your lips and your hair, the two of them constantly making his heart race. You called him a liar, but as time revealed, he was nothing but honest with you every day, and not just about what turns him on. 

Over time, you discovered his fears, his ticks, his aspirations past the small town you both found yourselves in. You admire his vulnerability, how open he is when sharing the thoughts that occupy his mind.

“At least three times already,” you tease, running your hand across his leg.

“It’s not bad to hear it a fourth time, right?” He plants another kiss to the crown of your head. He drops the braid he’s just made across your face, making you laugh.

“I’d rather hear how work went today,” you say, getting up to press your back to his chest, snuggling into him.

He shrugs, wrapping his arms around you tighter. “Not much to talk about. Working with roofs all day isn’t exactly exciting, angel.” 

You know Jake doesn’t want to work at his dad’s construction company for the rest of his life. However, it provides stability, and that matters a lot to him. He knows what it did to his aunt when Riki’s father walked out early on in his cousin’s life, and he wouldn’t wish that lack of support on anyone.

“At least you’re not running a tutoring center and a daycare in the same church,” you joke, your tone anything but humorous. The brood you dealt with every day was completely unlike Riki. They were kids that were carbon copies of their parents, children that would one day become exactly like their absentminded fathers and speculatory mothers. It put a taste in your mouth you couldn’t stomach.

You fall into steady silence, the uptick in both of your nerves ebbing away the longer you hold each other. Sure, Jake hates roofing as much as you hate disciplining whining toddlers and helping apathetic tweens with mathematics, but it doesn’t matter at this moment.

All that does is each other, enjoying the midweek sunset and the sounds of the birds flying overhead.

“What would you do if you were somewhere else?” Jake asks into the crook of your neck.

You grin, imagining a world of possibilities. The question never came up before, not from him or anyone else. It opens up a plethora of choices in your mind, but you narrow them down quickly, knowing what your heart truly desires.

“I’d like to teach,” you answer. “Really teach, maybe at a university. Something like poetry.” You turn to look at him, a newfound fire in your eyes. “Yeah.”

Jake smiles back at you, moving stray strands of hair from your shoulder to rest his head there. “I think you’d be great at that.”

“What would you do?”

Jake ponders the question, going over it in the same way you were moments before. You see realization wash over his features, and it makes you smile. “I think I’d write. Not literature or anything, but songs maybe? Teach music in the meantime. Still have to make money somehow, y’know.”

You giggle and push him down on the picnic blanket, running your fingers through his hair. “Sounds like a plan.”

He nods, sharing your happiness. “Maybe a kid and a dog can fit somewhere in that plan.”

Chuckling, you raise one eyebrow. “As long as I’m not having a baby out of wedlock, that sounds perfect to me.”

He turns you both over, covering your body with his and kissing you intensely. The passion runs from his body to yours, your heartbeats matching in their strong beats against your chests. “Perfect,” he whispers, his lips meeting yours once again.

It may be too soon to call it love, but you know you’re tiptoeing that line, and you wouldn’t mind falling headfirst on the other side of it as long as Jake’s there waiting for you.

“Are you sure they don’t know I’m here?” Jake asks, hesitant to walk up the stairs to your bedroom.

“It’s fine! They’re at a seminar all weekend with Reverend Park and his son, I promise.” You kiss his lips before running up to your room. Still on the fence, you hear his tentative footsteps trudging behind you.

Another few months rolled by, and your parents had softened to the idea of Jake being around more often. He showed up with his parents to church every Sunday, even if you both snuck off to make out in the backwoods when nobody was paying attention.

He’d stick around for the deacon’s sessions with Akemi, brightening her spirits with his guitar and a couple of songs to replace the ones she missed during normal processions. It helped that she seemed to be getting better, slowly but surely, with treatment and daily prayer.

When you heard your father call Jake a “nice kid,” you knew they were turning a corner in their relationship that you wished for since the night Jake kissed you in Jungwon’s car.

Now, that doesn’t mean they would be happy with finding him in your bed on a Friday night, but you’ve broken enough rules at this point. What’s one more?

“You’re trying to get me killed,” Jake jokes as you rip his shirt from his body, discarding the article of clothing on your bedroom floor. You sit on your bed and marvel at the muscles on his chest and stomach, all of it yours to caress and kiss at any time.

“Don’t worry, babe. I’ll follow you to heaven,” you tease, pulling him closer to kiss his body. Each press of your lips to his skin makes him tremble, cursing quietly to himself at the feeling.

“With the way you’re touching me, I doubt either of us will make it there.”

You giggle and link his mouth to yours. You moan when his tongue hits the roof of your mouth.

The intentions you had for tonight definitely involved numerous bouts of kissing, but the way Jake’s making you feel will certainly end up with his face or fingers between your legs. And as good as that sounds, you don’t want him derailing you from completing your mission.

There had been so many moments of him giving you pleasure up to this point, you wondered how he had stayed so composed and content after without expecting anything in return.

So, tonight, you decided to give him a bit of satisfaction, even if you’re walking into such activities without any kind of road map. Yeri gave you a handful of tips, but doing it for real is another beast entirely.

“Jaeyun, wait,” you say, taking his face in between your hands.

He looks up at you with eager eyes, wondering why you pulled him away from your neck. “What is it?”

“I want to take care of you this time.” You say, hoping your expression gives off the confidence you’re trying to portray. “I’ve never done it before, but—“

“And you don’t have to, angel,” Jake says with a dopey, relaxed smile. What on Earth and heaven did you do to find a guy like him?

“Please,” you beg, scooting closer to the edge of the bed. “I want to try.”

Jake’s conflicting feelings are evident in his eyes. Surely any man wants his girlfriend to go down on him with the same eagerness that you're giving him right now, but he doesn’t want you to feel obligated. 

In his mind, pleasure isn’t about some sort of trade-off. He makes you feel good because he wants to, not because it’s some duty he has to fulfill and expects to be paid back for later.

But, you asked so nicely and your eyes shine up at him so beautifully. He feels his resolve crumble enough to concede and do what you want.

You begin to unbutton his pants, your fingers twitching not from fear but excitement. When you pull down his jeans fully and see the outline of his bulge in his briefs, your mouth falls open slightly at the size.

Could it fit in your mouth if it was that big?

Jake chuckles and takes your hand to press to the gaping material covering him. “It won’t bite.”

You look up at him and begin to stutter, unsure how to continue once you take off his underwear. “D-Do you want me to use my hands first?”

“Whatever feels right to you, angel. I trust you.” He rubs his thumb across your cheek, and it calms all the nerves that came to the surface.

It’s in those three words that you find the courage to pull the remaining article of clothing off of him, taking in the sight of his cock in all its glory.

You gulp hard, trailing your eyes from the tip to where it adjoins to the rest of him. You’ve never seen one up close before, and you feel like you’re invading his privacy as you stare at it for another long minute. But who can blame you?

“It’s all for you, baby,” Jake whispers. “Do whatever you want.”

You feel a sharp pang of heat at the center of your thighs, his words spurring you on. You spit into your hand, as Yeri instructed, and wrap your hand firmly around Jake’s cock. With an easy but deliberate pace, you look at Jake directly to see if you’re starting off on the right foot.

And boy were you.

Jake hisses at the feeling of your hand encasing him, loving the tightness of your fingers as they continue sliding up and down his dick. He had envisioned this many times in the solitude of his bedroom, images of you and your beautiful body writhing underneath him enough to get him off. But those nights were nothing compared to this.

“Are you ready for my mouth now?” You ask timidly. Jake wants to laugh at how innocent you sound, the words coming so naturally off of your tongue.

“Yes, angel, please,” he answers, wanting to caress you by the hair and guide you down to his awaiting, leaking cock.

You move closer until you're an inch away from his tip. Flattening your tongue to take it into your mouth, you keep watching Jake’s face for the right signals.

His mouth opens, a satisfied whine leaving his lips. You feel a wave of pride at the fact he’s enjoying it so much, egging you on further.

“Your mouth feels so perfect wrapped around me,” he confesses. He soaks in the sensation of your lips and teeth softly running over the veins of his cock, your head bobbing across his length skillfully. How can an innocent and dutiful daughter like you give such mind-blowing head?

He can’t ruminate on the answer long, releasing a guttural moan as he feels his tip hit the back of your throat, the gag that rumbles from you making his cock even more sensitive.

“Angel, I’m gonna come soon,” Jake warns. “If you don’t want me to come in your mouth, let me know now.”

You look up through your lashes at him as you continue sucking on him with fierce passion, swirling your tongue across his tip. 

His hand is wrapped firmly in your hair now, fucking your face as softly as he can without forcing anymore of himself down your throat. When you take a hand to cup his balls, softly kneading them between your fingers, he’s done for.

He whines pathetically as his seed shoots inside your mouth. The taste isn’t particularly pleasing, but you milk it for what it’s worth to watch him fall apart so perfectly under your attention.

The orgasm rocks through him with an unshakeable amount of pleasure, his body completely helpless as he continues to spurt into your mouth. He can only hiss and whine as you continue to touch him, letting him come down fully and taking all of him without complaint.

Jake breathes in deeply when he gains clarity again, taking you in his arms and shoving his tongue deep in your mouth. “That was probably the best blowjob I’ve ever gotten,” he states, running his fingers over your face with adoration.

You scoff and roll your eyes, his words making you shy. “I doubt it, seeing as that was my first one.”

“It was!” Jake puts a hand on his heart. “Swear to the savior himself.” Before you can rebut, Jake takes your legs in his hands and moves you to the edge of the bed.

You wake up to the hard knocks at your bedroom door, the morning sun peeking out of your window to prove the previous night has long gone.

“Honey? What did we say about locked doors in this house?”

Your father’s booming voice makes you jump up from bed, smacking Jake hard on the shoulder and chest to wake him up.

“We had an odd feeling at the hotel, so we came home early,” your mother says as you shake Jake from his sleep.

“Ow, what the fuck,” Jake grunts, his voice not quiet enough to go unnoticed. You curse yourself and the reality in front of what’s about to happen, knowing full well your parents heard him on the other side of the door.

“Sweetie, who’s in there with you?” Your mother’s shrill but concerned tone makes you cringe. Jake’s eyes bulge in response, quickly leaping from the mattress to pull on his clothes in haste.

Just when you throw your dress from last night over your head and Jake buttons up his pants, your father slams open the door with his shoulder. Your parents gasp and yell at the sight before them, the man they began to grow comfortable with in a compromising position with their only daughter and precious child.

“What in God’s name is he doing here?” Your father asks no-one in particular, stomping towards Jake’s shirtless figure and yanking him by the neck.

“Daddy, stop!” You plead, scratching and clawing at his frame to pull him off of your lover.

Your mother begins blubbering, teary-eyed before you. “Oh honey, what did he do to you?”

“Nothing,” you scream. “Please leave him alone and let us be.”

“I told you to stay away from him.” Your father stares you down, eyes blazing with fury. “Not only did you betray me, but you betrayed the sanctity of your purity. It’s a disgrace.”

Jake coughs, your father’s hands tightening around his neck. “The only disgrace is the two of you holding her back, like she’s some weak bird in a cage,” he croaks. “She can make her own decisions.”

“You stay silent, you insolent pest,” your father growls, yanking Jake out of your room and down the stairs. By the time you and your mother make it out to the bottom step, your father has thrown Jake out and onto the porch.

“Stay away from my daughter, or you’ll have another reason to pray you don’t end up burning in hell.”

“Stop it!” You step in between your father and Jake, the latter putting on what’s left of his clothes. People begin to hover too close to your family home, suddenly entrenched in the scene playing out before them.

Jake kisses your forehead and walks away in the direction of his parked bike, unsure what else he can do unless he wants to truly end up six feet under. 

 Your father grabs you by the upper arm and pulls you in the direction of your porch, but you resist with all your might. “You can’t make me go back in there.”

“I am your father and you will listen to me,” he grunts, holding on tight.

“Daddy, I love him!” You scream as you yank your arm away from your father, your inner strength giving way. “If you can’t accept that, I guess I’ll just have to burn hell with him. Better than wasting another second here.”

You run toward Jake’s bike and sit behind him, cinching your arms around his waist. He smiles to himself, feeling the press of your chest to his back as he puts his helmet over his head. “Are you sure about this, angel?”

You nod furiously, not bothering to look back at your red-faced family. “More than I’ve ever been.”

All you focus on is his motorcycle rumbling to life before you speed away. Your hair blows in the wind as you both escape the horrified stares of the local vipers.

You end up at a motel on the other side of town, far away from the scandal that’s surely rocking your small community by now. The deacon’s daughter running away with the bad boy next door? What a tragedy!

You run inside to miss the upcoming rain, both of you shivering from the barrage of pellets that did land on your skin. You settle onto the mattress as Jake drops the small amount of belongings he had in his possession on the dresser.

He turns to you with quiet concern, arms splayed out on the furniture as he looks at you, searching your face for any lingering doubt. “No regrets?”

You shake your head, exhausted but glad to be out of that house. “None at all.”

He breathes out a sigh of relief and sits down beside you on the bed, rubbing your thigh with his fingers. “I’m sorry.”

Your brows knit together, confusion pouring over you. You take his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers. “You have nothing to apologize for. If anything, I should be apologizing to you.”

 You feel tears build at your eye ducts, your voice suddenly growing thick when you recall the scene from an hour ago. “I’m sorry my father was so horrible to you.”

“Hush, it’s okay,” he puts his other hand on your face. He kisses your lips tenderly and gracefully. How did nobody else but you see he possessed the most kind nature of anyone you’ve ever known?

Jake moves his head, his lips curving into the smile that always takes your common sense away. “I love you too, by the way.”

Your confession from earlier hits you like a heavy rock, your eyes going wide and your face turning pale. “That wasn’t the way I wanted to say it.”

“Then say it now,” Jake urges, your face resting gently between his fingers.

There’s no fear or pressure when the three words leave your lips, only the feeling of a weight lifting off of your chest. “I love you, Sim Jaeyun. I love you with my whole heart.”

His face lights up, the words seeming to set aglow something deep within him. The only right reaction seems to be in the form of his lips attaching to yours in a passionate kiss, your shared love creating a beautiful path forward for the both of you.

He whispers his next words so lightly, you almost assume the statement is a figment of your imagination. “Marry me.”

You feel your face contort into a mixture of disbelief and elation, needing to hear him say it again for it to truly resonate. “What?”

“Marry me,” he repeats, his smile stretching across his face. “Marry me now, or in three months from now, or whenever you want. Just say you will.”

You exhale a breath of astonishment, unsure if he knows how much you want to say yes, to make this as real as it sounds on his lips. He leaves your side with a kiss to your temple to grab something from his jacket. 

He comes back in record time, standing in front of you and twiddling the black box in both of his hands with anxious fingers. “I brought it with me to your house last night, I just didn’t know how to ask then. But I do now.”

Like in all the stories you’ve read and movies you’ve seen in your lifetime, he sinks down onto one knee before you. You place a hand over your mouth as he opens the box, a ring with an opal-shaped diamond cushioned in the center.

“Would you please do me the honor of being my wife?” Those words on his lips, visibly shaken from his own question, make a thousand butterflies flutter inside your chest.

Months ago, if you knew then you would end up here, from the edge of the sidewalk to now, you would not change a single moment. The world had been so gray before, you didn’t know what it was like to step in the sun until he came into your life. What other answer is there?

“Yes, yes, yes,” you respond, tears flooding your eyes as he shakily places the ring on your finger. It fits just right, the stone at the center sparkling in the darkness of the motel room.

You kiss Jake’s lips with all the force your body possesses, certain there’s no better future than right beside him.

The feeling of the gold band around your finger makes Jake shudder as it touches his cock. Your body is nestled perfectly on top of his as you take what you can’t put in your mouth between your fingers.

He laps up your essence with his tongue, ecstatic to have his face covered in your juices and smothered if need be by your wet cunt. If people think wedding nights are magical, engagement nights have to be a step up.

“Fuck, Jaeyun, yes,” you roll your hips into his awaiting mouth, his tongue available for you to lay your slit onto. The expletive leaves your mouth like honey, the feeling fitting for such a dirty word.

He knows exactly how to make you fall apart and be put back together, and the thought of doing this for the rest of your life makes you want to cry again from the pure happiness inside your core.

Jake takes his lips off of your pussy and sits up. Before you can ask what he’s doing, he takes you into his lap on the bed and kisses you fiercely. You taste yourself on his tongue as he skillfully takes your breath away with his lips. When you part, he says, “Angel, I know we said we’d wait, but I don’t know how much longer I can handle not being inside of you.”

You whimper at his words and suddenly rock your center into the tip of his cock, making him groan in the process. “I mean—we’re just starting early, right?” 

Jake releases a joyous laugh and kisses you hungrily, his face in a constant state of ecstasy since you said “yes” hours ago. “Right.”

 The anticipation makes you even wetter, crawling to the head of the bed as Jake grabs a condom from the bedside table. If there was one thing he had promised, he swore he wouldn’t get you pregnant. Not yet, anyway.

He rolls the rubber over his cock before joining you on the bed, lining up perfectly with your center. He rubs his tip against your folds, biting his lip at how easily it gets coated in your essence. “Ready?”

You nod eagerly, a smirk filling the entire bottom half of your face.

He pushes the tip in, the pressure a foreign feeling you had never experienced before. It took time and practice to get used to the size of his fingers, but this is another level of fullness that takes your breath away.

Once Jake’s partially inside and gives you a moment to adjust, he asks, “Can I move?”

You nod your head, holding onto his shoulders for support as he begins to thrust inside of you. He loves to see his cock disappearing between your legs, your body eagerly taking him in and stretching itself out to accommodate him. He loves the way you whimper at the movement of his hips and the pleasure you’re receiving.

Better yet, he loves you. He loves all of you, from the nonsensical words you speak in your sleep to the wrinkle between your eyebrows when you get mad. You’re all his, and he’s grateful to be the only one you call yours.

“We may never leave this motel,” Jake says, his words breathy as he continues moving his hips. “I could stay inside of you for the rest of my life, angel.”

“I love you so much,” you say, inching your hand between your bodies to roll your clit between your fingers.

“I love you,” Jake says. He takes your face in his hands and kisses you like he wants to pour all of his emotions from his being into your soul, just so you know how deep his love for you goes.

It’s all so overwhelmingly beautiful, you feel the swell of your release cresting over you like a tidal wave. “Baby, I’m gonna come,” you whisper, your mouth open wide from the moans and cries you cannot suppress.

Jake groans and slams his hips into you harder, filling you to the hilt repeatedly. “Come, angel. Come for me.”

You cry out as the orgasm takes hold of your body, your fingers working on their own accord on your clit as you fall off the edge.

Jake stills not a second later, releasing into the condom and taking the last remnants of his energy to thrust inside of you a few more times.

He pulls out and throws the rubber in a nearby trash can. His sweaty body clings to yours, hands rubbing up and down your arm tenderly as he kisses the curve of your shoulder.

You see the flash of your ring in the glow of the motel’s neon sign, and you think about how the night could not have gone any better.

Jake may be a bit reckless and not what you initially imagined for your future, but now that you have him, you wouldn’t give him up for anything. All the parts of you that stayed buried for so long have resurfaced because of him, and you could not be more grateful.

With your left hand a touch heavier than it was some hours ago, you fall asleep to the sound of the rain hitting the window and Jake’s rising and falling chest.

You walk out of your mother’s house, happy to have made a visit with her before she ran off to do her morning errands.

What you’re not pleased to encounter is the same crowd of women huddled with their homemade fans and cups of lemonade. They weren’t there when you arrived a few hours ago.  Of course they show up when you have no chance of escaping them, like the vultures they are.

“Mrs. Sim,” Mrs. Choi says, her tone entirely made of stone with little warmth. “Pleasure to see you.”

Your new surname gives you indescribable amounts of happiness. It took your parents some time to get used to, but eventually, they realized you put your heart in the right place. Your father took his sweet time getting there, begrudgingly admitting a short time ago Jake is a very acceptable son-in-law, the turnaround of his perception of your husband complete.

You give the crotchety ringleader a fake smile and attempt to walk away, but Mrs. Lee interjects. “How’s your mister doing working at the church now?”

“Great,” you say, genuinely happy to talk about a topic you care for. “Jaeyun loves the kids. Little Yuna might actually be a guitar prodigy from what he’s told me.”

They all coo, practically synchronized in their sips of lemonade and fan flurries.

“Soon enough you’ll have one of your own, I’m sure,” Mrs. Choi remarks with sarcasm, her red-lipstick-stained front teeth on full display.

“Not too soon now,” Jake suddenly says, walking up the pathway to your mother’s house and taking you in by the waist. “My wife has to finish her Masters first. How else is she gonna start teaching at the community college?”

My wife. No matter how long it’s been since you officially got married in your church, that day a year ago forever ingrained in your memory, it still warms you to the bones hearing those words leave Jake’s lips.

The women all express signs of agreement, some nodding while others hum.

“We better get back home now, but you ladies have a nice day!” Jake bids them goodbye and walks you both down the stairs with his hand on the small of your back. Even if he were to be more than the perfect gentleman in front of them, they would still linger around with pesky eyes and constantly moving lips.

“They’re still betting we’re gonna crash and burn, aren’t they?” Jake whispers, teasing you with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

You shake your head. You fall more in love with him every day that passes, no matter what the people around you do or don’t see. They may have their opinions, but it won’t shake the foundation you’ve built. “Well, they’re sure to be disappointed if I have anything to say about it.”

Jake’s eyes widen, his expression humorous yet surprised. “Easy, angel. Don’t want to have to tear my wife off of a nosy wine mom.”

Your heart aches at his words, him fully aware of what two of them in particular do to you. “I love you.”

Jake grins, inching his face closer to yours. “I’d love nothing more than to kiss you right now, but what would everyone say?” He asks with a mock face of horror.

You shrug without much care, grinning. “Someone once told me ‘fuck everyone else.’ And right now I couldn’t agree more.”

Jake laughs before he places a gentle kiss to your lips, the sun radiating off of him in waves as he pulls you closer.

No matter what anyone in your small town has to say, your choices are yours; you’re perfectly happy with how your life has turned out whether they think so too or not. And you will always choose Sim Jaeyun, now and forever.

@yvnempire @sjylouvre @mini-mews @jayparked @heesuncore @yoursjaeyun @sungbeams @jenoslutie @loserlvrss

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 ౨ৎ˚₊

@kvanity-main @sweetvenomnet @onedoornet @sayxonet @violetanet @svthub @whipped-kpop-creators

[sundives]

Anti-hero ✶ sjy.

Pierced through the heart, but never killed.

Summary: Jake Sim has gained his status as Decelis University's "golden boy." Intelligent, a good track of extracurriculars and organization, and did I mention good-looking? He's the front-runner to become the batch's valedictorian, and everything seems to be perfect in that way.

"You need to get laid," his roommates pointed out one day, ruining his perfectly planned college life. Thinking that his roommates were just looking out for him, Jake found himself in a world that he seems to be unfamiliar with — having a fuck buddy, and that's with a little help from you, Decelis University's "golden girl."

✰ Song Inspiration: Anti-hero by Taylor Swift, Strong Girl by Niki, The Bolter by Taylor Swift (trust me, there’s a reason why this is my song inspo.)

✰ Word Count: 26.5k (damn.)

✰ Tags: Fuck buddies to lovers, no strings attached, plot with porn, a bit of fluff and angst, some hurt/comfort, college au, scandals and rumors, Jake’s POV (but there’s some POV switching somewhere), Jake Sim is a T, (he’s so serious with everything and it’s fucking hot tbh) reader has imposter syndrome, (actually reader is also a T), they have nicknames for each other, mentions of enhypen members, OC characters. Huh Yunjin and oc character as Jake’s roommate.

✰ CW: smut, plot with porn, sub! reader, dom! jake, BIG DICK JAKE RAHHHHHH, consensual noncon (proceed with caution.) choking, oral (m receiving) public sex, shower sex, car sex, praise, kinda dirty talk, pet names, fingering, unprotected sex (pls don’t do this), use of condom…once, creampies, aftercare, cockwarming, just filthy smut, they’re so chaotic during sex.

✰ Asul’s note: Jake’s story is here! I was so in love with his character in My Kink Is Karma, and here we are now. I've tried hard with this plot and is a bit unsatisfied so I hope you'll love his story. Warning but proceed with caution since there’s a part that explicitly shows consensual noncon. Read with caution. But shitty smut ahead since I gave up detailing it midway.

Also if you have read Heeseung and Jay’s story, (If you haven’t you can check their story!) Their gfs are also the reader, but I gave them names here in Jake’s story because they have a lot of cameos in this fic. (They’re still considered as y/n in their own story.) Yeah, kinda confusing start because this wasn’t really supposed to be a series from the start, but here we are! The fourth installment of Arcanum series! Enjoy reading! :D

You can check the other member's stories here: Jay | Sunghoon | Heeseung

✰ Taglist: @kiikiisblog @chuuyaobsessed @dearestdreamies @jakessrealwife @heeseungsgf26 @kamiliora @st4rg1rlies @fancypeacepersona @k1ttyjwon @yazmike @dulcetnostalgia

-

The last semester of the year had arrived. The air in Decelis falls coolly as spring season is about to arrive, mixing with the remnants of the cold winter, the university welcomed the students for the second semester of the academic year. 

Wearing their jackets and coats to their first day of class, Decelis University became warm as noise filled the campus. Students meeting their friends, teachers smiling as they greet their students welcome back, and couples holding hands like they’re in their own world. 

At one of the gates of Decelis, three students ran their way inside the campus, bright laughter escaping their lips as they stopped midway to catch their breath, not even caring for the students they halted on the walkway.

“Text us if you’re done okay?” Yunjin said, patting Jake’s shoulders. “We’ll be going now!”

“Bye guys,” Jake hugs his roommates before he turns around to walk towards an opposite direction — towards his department building. 

Clean and ironed uniform, his school id hung loosely around his uniform’s collar along with his neat tie which Jake, himself tied for a good minute. His square, black-rimmed glasses rested idly on his buttoned nose that complimented his overall visual. With the way he walked, his short black hair neat and proper, and how casual his smile was, it wasn’t hard for students to turn their head towards him. 

Sim Jaeyun or Jake Sim for others, is Decelis University’s “Golden Boy.” The top student of the engineering department, president of the student aid organization, a member of Decelis physics club, former soccer player — the list goes on.

No one can top his intelligence and achievements. Records full of 1 and a good moral track. He is considered as a well-disciplined student, that even the teachers love him because he’s not some top student who befriends teachers for the sake of grades. Jake was naturally intelligent and diligent in his studies. Not to mention, he has a warm aura around him, although Jake always wears a small smile or neutral expression, he is considered approachable among his peers. 

As he entered the classroom, eyes darted to him. Smile and warm greetings which he only reciprocated before sitting on the first row near the entrance. His usual seat wherein it’s enough for him to sprint out the moment the bell rings. 

With the last semester of their college life starting, professors are preparing them for all the possibilities — Latin honors, failed subjects due to unreasonable reasons, even suspension, anything that may happen in the span of five months. Jake could only listen to their professor, who also just happens to be the Dean of their department, explain everything that they should look forward to for their last days in college.

Jake, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to be reacting largely compared to his classmates. His mind is thinking of his post-graduation plans — have a one-week beach trip with his friends. Go home to Australia for a break, then return to the city to review and take the board exam to get his engineering license. Get a job with a high-paying salary, and find a girlfriend somewhere there if he has time. All the usual shit that he had planned ever since he was a freshman. 

Jake has always been a planner. His perfect college life was curated based on his schedule and time, and so far, everything is coming into pieces. All he need was to not fuck-up his presidency term, attain latin honors, and follow his plan without any distractions or new ventures.

“We’re rooting for you Jake,” their department dean laughs. A bright smile was only Jake could give as the old man pats his back. “No one can top your excellence, not only in our department, but the whole university.”

“Thank you for the kind words sir,” Jake answered, having heard that since last year. 

“That valedictorian is for you, and I’m going to use all my powers to make sure that it’ll be yours,” with a short pat on his back, Jake watched as the Department Dean walked away. His smile immediately turns into a thin line as he returns back to his classroom.

Jake Sim never planned to become the valedictorian of their batch — nor did he work hard to become Decelis’ “Golden Boy.” It just so happens that he has a lot of extracurriculars, is smart, and probably has a good personality, hence, giving him that unofficial title. There were a lot of contenders for that title, that’s why Jake wondered why it was given to him. Maybe it just happens that everyone fawns over him. 

He didn’t mind the attention, but it did place a lot of pressure on him. It meant that everyone is watching every move he makes, and he knows being known meant one thing — one wrong move may cause your entire downfall. But it’s not like he’s going to do some rash actions, Jake knows he’s not stupid to put himself in trouble. 

After class, Jake finds himself in the club room of the student aid organization, which is just an information and help center for students and incoming students, except it’s being led by students. Jake volunteered to become part of it since it helped him tremendously when he was just a lost, foreign student back in his freshman year — never would he think that he’ll end up as its president. 

But it feels nice helping other students, everyone in the organization is a helping hand, and the overall vibe was healthy and light. That’s why instead of stressing himself with the grievances, Jake finds joy in the organization. 

As he opened the door, the place was a bit crowded. Some students need some help while his staff are busy helping them. Jake greets them warmly, asking if there’s any problem and so far, everything’s good. 

Jake sat by the table beside Jiwon, who’s the executive assistant of his team. A smile greeted him as he placed his bag down. 

“Most of them are just problems regarding enrollment and transfers, you know, the usual problem we encounter during the first few weeks of the sem,” the girl explained as soon as Jake sat on the table. Having worked together since freshman, they’ve memorized each other that Jiwon knew what to do without Jake giving her instruction.

“They’re fewer than last sem, thank god because last sem was stressful,” Jake muttered which only left a chuckle on Jiwon’s lips. 

“Well, we got new students last semester, that’s why it was stressful,” Jiwon replied. “Oh by the way, I’ll be clocking out around four-thirty.”

“Let me guess, you have a date with Heeseung?” Jake pointed out, and only a blush on the cheeks was her answer. “You know, you didn’t have to tell me all of this.”

“I have to, what if you keep looking for me!? You can barely function without me.” the girl teased making Jake smile. He knows himself that he can't function without his assistant.

“Shut up, I can handle all of this, go have fun with your date.”

Work continued until one by one, his staff told him that they’ll be going now. Same excuse from them — dates, hanging out with friends, even family events, which Jake doesn’t mind. He knows that the organization shouldn’t be their top priority. It’s just an extracurricular for extra credits and something that you can put in your work resume. 

Jake remained alone inside the club room. The soft lofi music coming from his laptop serves as a noise while he sorts the reports. The sun is about to set and he’s on the last grievance that they received today. After this, he’ll be meeting his roommates by the Pho stall for dinner. 

Jake looks towards the window, watching the campus life unfold in front of him. He sees a group of friends laughing with each other, some are by the benches eating some snacks. He watches as teachers run their way towards their next class, while some student couples are having too much display of affection. A bitter smile formed on his lips as he realized that he’s alone inside the club room.

Will his remaining months in Decelis be like this? Jake feels like his college life is missing something. Is it the thrill? The fun? But he has friends though. They go out and drink during their free time. He parties when he can. That’s the thrill right? Jake stopped his task, deeply pondering on his thoughts.

“And it irritates me,” Jake opened up. 

The coffee table is filled with opened bags of chips. Empty bottles of soju scattered on the floor, while cans of beer remained on the table. On the couch sat Yunjin, Aera, and Jake who are all huddled up, alcohol on their system.

“So let me get this straight,” Yunjin started, sitting upwards to glance at Jake. “You, Mr. Decelis University’s Golden Boy, is lacking something? Dude you’ve got it all, what else is missing!?”

“I don’t know either! That’s why I’m telling you guys this!” Jake frustratedly shouted.

Aera laughs loudly, before clapping her hands as she points at Jake. “I know what it is!”

“That sounds like a bad idea.” Jake commented.

“You need to get laid!” Aera delightedly announced.

Jake cringed, “Yeah, bad idea.”

“No it’s not! You probably have a lot of pent-up frustrations in your body! Jake, when was the last time you even jerked off?” Aera boldly asked, Jake scrunches his nose out of disgust while Yunjin laughs out loud. 

“We’re absolutely not going to talk about that.” he takes a chug on his beer while Aera rolls her eyes. 

“Come on, it’s scientifically proven that having orgasms can release serotonin or whatever happy hormones we have, but you get my point!”

Aera continued laughing, while Yunjin and Jake only remained quiet, convincing themselves that their roommate is so drunk that she started to blurt random stuff. 

“She’s just telling that because she has a boyfriend now,” Jake explained, before taking a few chips. 

“Well she’s not wrong,” Yunjin asked, making Jake side-eye her. “Having sex can be a form of stress reliever. I bet that you have a lot of stress in your body that parties and alcohol cannot relieve.”

“And you guys think that sex is the answer?”

“What else is the answer? You used to love sleeping around back when we were freshmen, you were so carefree back then and now, you look…so pent-up Jake. I know that you have a lot on your sleeve right now, but that’s probably why you don’t notice that you’re pent-up. You need to loosen up! Find romance and pleasure!” Aera spoke enthusiastically. 

“I am not getting myself a girlfriend during the last semester of my college, do you know that college couples tend to break up after graduation?” Jake stated.

“And I hope that doesn’t happen to me and Jay, but Jake, you don’t need a girlfriend, maybe you just need someone who you only exclusively hookup with.” Aera rebutted.

“Like a fuck buddy?” Yunjin asked.

“Yeah, a fuck buddy! There’s nothing wrong with it, you have a fuck buddy Yunjin right?” Aera pointed out. 

“Oh right, I can vouch for that. Remember Chaewon? Yeah, we were fuck buddies since sophomore.” Yunjin casually shared, making Jake glance at her, surprised. 

“Up until now? I thought you two were together?” and that sentence made Yunjin laugh.

“We’re not. It’s a no-string attached agreement. We only meet each other to have sex, that’s the agreement! No dates, no emotional attachment. Just sex.” Yunjin explained. 

Jake becomes quiet for a moment. His roommates made some points. Maybe he does need to get laid, or have sex, or maybe find a fuck buddy who can relief all his stress. Seeing that it doesn’t affect Yunjin at all with her long-time fuck buddy, maybe it can be applied to him too. 

He’s not sure if it’ll work, but there’s no harm in trying, right? His roommates may be chaotic most of the time, but they know him from some angles that he doesn’t notice. 

“So, how do I even find that?” Jake asked, making his roommates freeze.

“Wait, you’re seriously going to do it?” Yunjin asked, appalled.

Jake shrugs, “well, if yours works, maybe it’ll work for me? I hope so?”

“Just go to a dating app, a lot of students use that — wait, let’s set it up for you.” Yunjin suggested, and the next thing they knew, they installed a popular dating app called Blind. Both roommates helped in creating Jake’s profile, something that will make him look decent, not just some random fuckboy. 

“Holy shit, this is so exciting! You’re finally getting some action Jake Sim!” Aera excitingly shouts, shaking Jake’s shoulder which only made the three of them laugh.

-

Jake stared at a profile of a girl. She’s fine, pretty, and shorter than him. She’s not from Decelis but she’s alright. He wondered if he should swipe left or right for a minute before swiping to the left. 

He found it impressive how Blind can show him preferences, starting from their height up to their intentions on the app. Yunjin wrote his profile as someone who’s looking for something casual, stating that if he placed that if he’s there for a hookup, he’ll end up looking like a horndog — which he wasn’t. 

Jake’s been in the app since last night. Yunjin helped him picked some girls along with Aera, and one thing he learned was that it was hard to find the right girl that he could ask to be his fuck buddy. He had matched with some other girls, took the courage to flirt (though most of the time Yunjin was the one who’s writing the message,) but it seems like it’s not working on his side.

“Hey pres!” a feminine voice greets, startling Jake who tightly grips on his phone.

Jake immediately closed his phone before looking up to see you standing there in front of him. You have a wide smile on your face. Makeup neat with an excessive amount of blush but it suits your round cheeks. Your black shoulder bag hangs on your left shoulder along with the trinkets and keychains on its handle.

If Jake Sim was Decelis University’s Golden Boy, you’re the female version of him — the Golden Girl. A senior communications student, you’re one of the top students of your department. You have a bright and friendly aura around you. During sophomore year, you welcomed students back when you were a radio jock in Decelis 1009 radio station which also led you to opportunities to host a lot of school events.

You’re also part of the student aid, a huge helping hand to other students that you’ve become its vice president this term. Last year, you were hailed as Decelis University’s “Selene.” which was a pageant to become Decelis University’s official student model and image. With your beauty and brains, along with your popularity, you’ve won the heart of every student and staff in the university. Which also hailed you the golden title. 

Although you and Jake hold the title, the two of you were never linked with each other. Both living in two different worlds, you two were only acquainted due to the student aid organization. Jake finds you nice, a bit talkative, but he sees that you have a lot of confidence and boldness in you. 

“You weren’t here yesterday,” Jake said sternly.

“I did remember sending you a message that I had a short interview at 1009 radio station,” you grinned before glancing at his phone. “You seem to be busy with something.”

“It’s nothing.” Jake answered immediately.

You raised an eyebrow, “Nothing really? Scrolling through a dating app during class hours? That’s so not you pres.”

Jake’s eyes widened. “How did you —”

“Funny, at first thought, someone is impersonating you but it really is you,” you said, hands resting on your hips as you looked at Jake teasingly. 

“What?” the boy asked, surprised.

You let out a small laugh before grabbing your phone. You opened your phone and showed Jake its screen — a screenshot of his Blind profile. You noticed how his eyes widened further, but as he glanced at you, his expression became neutral once again. 

“You’re there too?” Jake blurted out, and you amusingly tilted your head. 

“Why wouldn’t I be there? I use it when I’m bored and pent-up, it’s a place for hook-ups, not all are looking for serious relationships here.”

“What makes you think I’m looking for a serious relationship in Blind?” Jake rebutted. 

Now, it was your turn to be surprised. “You weren’t?”

Jake stares at you for a minute. He wonders if it’s worth sharing to someone he’s not that close to, but you seem to be open to this topic so he only clicks his tongue as he looks at his phone. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but my friends, they convinced me that I need to get laid because I’m all stressed and they think sex is the solution.”

You stifled a laugh, but Jake’s expression never faltered, so you held yourself back but your grin was too obvious. “And you believed them?” 

“Never know until proven true, so yeah, here I am scrolling through hundreds of profiles until I find a decent girl who’s I don’t know, won’t be intimidated to have sex with me,” Jake casually explained. 

“I can do it for you.” you casually replied.

That’s when Jake glances back at you, who blinked at him innocently. He was waiting for you to say that you were joking, but you only smiled at him. 

“I’m not kidding pres, instead of finding another stranger who you have to make connections with, why don’t you go with someone who, let’s just say, is already acquainted with you?”

You made good points with your reason. The first problem Jake faced was finding a decent girl who he won’t be awkward with. Sex is still intimacy, and knowing that it’s been so long since he even touched a girl, he knows that this is a challenge to him. 

With you proposing to him, he quickly thought about it for a minute. You, who is ironically the girl version of him, is offering to be his fuck buddy. You seem to be chill about this one, and it did surprise him that you’re into this kind of setup. 

Noticing that the atmosphere has becoming too quiet, you only cleared your throat before saying, “I’ll give you time pres, but my offer still stands —”

“Wait,” Jake halted you immediately. “Sorry, I’m just really new to this kind of setup. This doesn’t make you uncomfy? Especially when we’re orgmates too.”

“Whatever happens inside the room, remains in the room. That’s my rule.” you smiled. “We can talk more about our setup of course, we’re not only complying with my rules, you should set boundaries too.”

“Okay,” Jake breathes, nodding as it seems like he’s set with having you as his fuck buddy. “How soon should we…you know?”

But you only laughed, “so you’re taking my offer huh?”

“This is better than finding some girls on Blind.” Jake reasoned out. “Let’s talk more tonight? How’s that sound?”

“Already? I don’t mind, if you’re already down to fuck, but you need to buy condoms for us,” you winked. “We got to stay safe pres.”

Jake would never have thought that conversation would lead him to cleaning their dorm. Their floor has always been clean since the three of them are clean freaks, but Jake has to make sure that it’s squeaky clean before you arrive. 

It was his first time clocking out of the organization on time too. His roommates coming home to him doing a last minute vacuuming on the floor. That’s when they realized what the hell was going on with their only male roommate. 

“I can’t believe that we were just talking about it last night and you already found one,” Aera spoke up while tying her shoes. 

“And here you are, kicking us out because your fuck buddy is coming,” Yunjin fakingly sobs.

To ease your first meeting, Jake bribed his roommates to have the flat all by himself for that night, (and fortunately, they agreed, knowing that they advised him to do so in the first place.) Jake knows where the two will end up staying the night, so it’s still a win for the three of them. 

“I’ll treat you guys with ice cream tomorrow, don't worry,” Jake compensated, sitting on the couch as he had changed into a shirt and sweatpants. His legs thumping nervously as he glanced at the clock. It’s almost 7:30 in the evening, which was your agreed time. 

And before his roommates could go, a ring on the doorbell stopped the three of them. Aera, who’s just near the door, opens it, surprising you who’s standing in front of the door. 

“Y/n hi!” Aera brightly greeted, having familiar with your face, before turning back at Jake, mouthing “what the fuck!?” 

Yunjin stood there frozen, surprised that Jake’s fuck buddy is none other than Decelis’ golden girl, talking about small world. It really has to be you out of the thousands of available girls in the city. She gasps in disbelief while Jake stood up from his seat. 

“Come in,” Jake gestured. Aera opens the door wider for you to step inside, both his female roommate stared at you making you wary. It didn’t cross your mind that Jake had female roommates, and that made you somehow confused with your setup with him. 

“Hi I’m Yunjin, and this is Aera, we’re Jake’s roommates, but don’t worry! We’ll be going out, you have the place all by yourself,” Yunjin greeted all of the sudden, and you felt embarrassed intruding on their place just because you can’t offer yours. 

“Oh no, I’m sorry for intruding too,” you immediately apologized but Yunjin only smiled as she and Aera grabbed their bags. 

“No worries for us! It’s been a while since Jake brought a girl to our place, so enjoy! We’ll see you guys at school!” Aera laughed, waving goodbye to the two of them before leaving the place. 

You stood there frozen before you turned around to see Jake groaning in disbelief. 

“So,” you cleared your throat. “Why didn’t you just ask them —”

“Aera is Jay’s girlfriend, and Yunjin’s a lesbian.” Jake quickly explained. 

“Oh.” you’re not familiar with most of the students in Decelis. But you did remember that there was gossip last semester that Arcanum’s Jay was dating someone, and turns out, it’s Jake’s roommate. While you do recognize Yunjin since she’s part of Decelis Theater. 

“They’re the ones who told me to get laid.” Jake added. “They’re also like sisters to me, that’s why.” 

Another “Oh” escapes your lips. You thought that it’s those male friends of Jake that convinced him to this setup. Now, you found yourself in a more awkward situation. 

“Do you want some ramen?”

A moment of silence hovered between the two of you before you spoke. “What?”

“You seem tense, have you eaten dinner yet?” he offered, sounding genuine with his words. 

“Really — I mean, ramen?” you laughed because of his words. Usually, your casual hookups is just you showing up to your hookup’s place, fuck, and then go home. The usual quickie or sex wherein both bodies do the work, while your mouth sucks their dick instead of talking to them. No string attached, only bodily pleasures, and it works all the time.

But then again, this is the first time you and Jake will be meeting. Plus, this isn’t just a hookup, this is a fuck buddy set-up — a temporary monogamous situation for you. So you agreed, and that’s why you found yourself by the kitchen, watching Jake grab a pack of Buldak Carbonara, with him sharing you a homemade recipe of his. 

“So, how about we talk about it?” Jake suggested as he waits for the noodles to cook. “How do we even do this? I’m sorry, I’m really new to this.”

You only smile at him. He still maintains his professional talking voice that he’s been using to everyone else. Your mind started to wonder what would his voice sound like in bed — would he be making sounds that’s far from the serious and stoic Jake Sim?

“It’s okay, I’m here to help you,” you assured. “Let’s start from the very start. Do you want this to be an exclusive thing? Just the two of us?”

Jake became quiet for a second, “I’m going to keep it exclusive for me but I don’t mind if you sleep with other guys.” 

“Okay, since you’re going to stay loyal, I’m going to stay loyal too,” you smiled, hoping that you’re not going to regret it. “This is a no-string attached set-up, we’ll only meet for sex, and it has to be mutually consented too, is that okay with you?”

Jake only nods, busying himself with his cooking. The smell of the buldak sauce steaming inside the kitchen. You stopped for a second because Jake hands you a bowl of his carbonara buldak risotto. Murmuring your thanks, you took a bite on it and had your eyes wide open. 

“This tastes good,” you shared, while Jake quietly smiles before eating his own food. 

“Oh by the way, we shouldn’t do things like this,” you added. 

“Why not?”

“Because this is too wholesome! We’re here to fuck, not act like lovers.” 

“Alright, what else?”

“Any kinks you have in your mind?”

Jake almost spat out his ramen. He looks at you who only gave him an innocent stare. 

“Why? If we’re going to fuck, then we should atleast make each other feel good!” you pointed out before a thought crosses your mind. “Oh my god don’t tell me you’re still a virgin?”

“No, I’m not,” Jake coughs. “I just forgot what I’m into.”

That’s when you let out another laugh. “Jake Sim you’re really something else. When was the last time you even had sex?”

Jake became quiet for a moment. “Uhm…summer before junior year.” he barely recalled it. It was just a drunken one night stand. On a three-day-and-two-night trip to the beach with his friends. He was drunk, flirted with a stranger, and had sex, and before the sun had risen, he left the hotel room. 

“Woah, that long huh?” you smiled. “You never thought of having a girlfriend?”

“It’s proven that college couples tend to break up after graduation,” Jake repeated. At the same time, Jake thinks that he couldn’t prioritize commitment when he has a lot of things to focus on. 

“Not now, but during that duration,” you pointed, and that question made Jake quiet. 

“I did like someone back in junior year,” he confessed. “But she — someone else got her first.”

“Do you still like her?”

“Of course not anymore,” Jake only smiled bitterly. Regrets rushing into his heart. “She’s my friend’s girlfriend — they got together last year coincidentally. From there, I threw away my feelings immediately.”

“She must be lucky that you like her.”

“I feel like she’s happier with my friend now.” 

Silence faltered inside the kitchen. You only stared at the half-full bowl before taking another bite. You couldn’t even think of another word to say. 

“What about you?” Jake asked, making you glance at him. “What about your kinks? Let’s not delve into our lovelife since we’re not here to act like lovers.”

A faint blush rushed on your cheeks, usually things like this will be discussed during sex, during the heat of the moment, so it felt weird saying it out of blue. “It’s embarrassing.”

“How can I make you feel good when I don’t know what you want?”

“Fine, I’m submissive. Use me however you want, rough that it’ll leave me limping. Choke me, that’ll make me cum, but don’t you ever use degrading words, that’ll make me cry.” 

“So, that means you’re into praise? Like good girl or something?”

You became quiet. Jake quickly observes how you stared at him, eyes wide. You can feel your heart beating fast, words stuck at your throat as Jake’s words keep replaying in your mind. 

“That fast? I’m surprised,” Jake teasingly said. “What else?” 

“Let’s talk about it the other time, but that summarizes what I want during sex,” you explained. 

Jake hums for a moment. “Alright. Then should we discuss our setup somewhere more, private?”

Your heart beats faster than before. You only nod as both you and Jake left the bowls on the sink, before following him towards his room. 

You’re used to a guy’s room. The smell, the mess, and probably unwashed sheets for weeks. You didn’t care about it during sex, but after sex? Those guys are getting blocked. Personal hygiene is your number one must, and if Jake Sim’s room is a mess, then he’ll just have to kiss this setup bye-bye. 

As Jake opens his room, you’re surprised to see a clean and neat room that smells like sandalwood and men’s perfume. His bed is neatly done, bedsheets in navy blue and white. Side table filled with nothing but a night lamp. On a corner is a pc set-up and a study table where his books are placed on a small shelf along with some pencil holder and his laptop. 

Of course this is Jake Sim that we’re talking about. He holds a good reputation in your university so he’s likely cleaner than the rest of the guys you’ve slept with before. 

Jake sits on the edge of the bed, watching you look around his room, probably amazed by it. Then, you turned around and smiled at him before sitting next to him. 

“So, anymore questions?” you asked. 

“You told me that you can’t offer your place, you live with your parents?” Jake asked. 

“Not my parents, but my older sister. It’s a one bed apartment room, that’s why I can’t offer mine. I don’t mind hotel rooms but I don’t do cheap ones Jake, so if you want it, we can do it here,” you explained, then another thought flew inside your mind. “Why? Do you like public sex or something?”

Jake only shakes his head. “I’m not going to throw my roommates everytime we do it, so being quiet is an option.”

You stared at his lips before glancing back at his stare, you shifted your body towards him, knees touching each other as you lean close to him. “Don’t worry, I can be quiet.” 

You two stare at each other for a minute. No one said a thing. You were waiting for him to say another word, while he only slowly observed you.

Then, Jake teasingly grins, which is a new, unfamiliar expression for you, “you seem eager to get fucked tonight.” 

“If you don’t want it, I don’t mind,” you smirked. “We can take things slow pres.”

That nickname. That damn nickname that always electrifies him. Jake’s ears deafened as the vixen smile on your lips widened. 

“I bet you want to call me other names,” Jake said, suddenly there’s a change in the atmosphere. You held your breath as his hands gently rested on your thighs, thumb caressing your bare skin while the smile on his lips became a smirk. 

“Pres? Sir? Daddy? While I call you a good girl as you take my dick inside your tiny little hole? You want that baby?” his deep, raspy voice sent chills through your spine. Your heart started beating fast, minding starting to float — wondering what it feels like to hear more of his heavent-sent voice praising you. 

But you didn’t want to back down that easily, so a scoff in disbelief was your answer.

“Maybe it’s you who wants to be called those names,” you spat back at him. Hands finding its way towards his jawline, your sharp, acrylic nails cupping his cheeks while Jake remains unfazed, his eyes shifted immediately to a bored one.

It’s dangerous. You’re convinced that Jake’s dangerous for you. He’s not rushing anything. Guys usually just throw you to bed and fuck you senselessly, while Jake only sat there, lazy eyes staring at you. Tempting and alluring like he’s teasing you to take the lead.

He doesn’t move. He’s patient with you, like he’s waiting for your next move. And it only leaves you impatient and wetter than before. You only glanced at his lips, luscious and thick, thumb grazing on its soft skin, cursing why Jake Sim has to be so perfect?

“You want it?” he whispered to you, voice crashing in you like a siren. 

“Please…” you only breathed, tone high-pitched almost on the edge of whining that Jake chuckled darkly because of it. 

A throb on your heart was all you felt as he crashed his lips on yours. Gently, he cups your face as he tilts his head, pressing his lips as it starts moving to get a taste of you. You kissed him back with much force, lips expertly responding to his kiss.

You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck before you moved to his lap, hips immediately moving against his thigh to feel him underneath, only for Jake to groan against your mouth. The sudden movement of your hips flinches him. 

Jake knows that it’s been a while since he had sex, he barely recalls when was the last time that he had masturbated. Due to his hectic schedule and tired body, it never crossed in his mind to pleasure himself. He’d rather sleep than rub it away.

Maybe his roommates were right, his pent-up frustration is just him being sexually frustrated. Maybe it’s the peer pressure too. While his peers are living their life in adventures and parties, his college life becomes too nerdy and academic-focused that it leaves him too serious to deal with emotional attachments like love or pleasure. 

But in Jake’s mind, what’s the point? Can he even have a girlfriend when he himself is too tired with his other priorities? Aera was right to advise that he just needs to get laid, at least with the no-strings attachment, he doesn’t have to deal with its aftermath. 

His hands find its way through your hair, brushing it softly until he tugs it out of nowhere, earning a moan from you. He pulls your face away from him — his stare at you menacing and that both knew that something awakened in Jake.

But it only made you needy, biting your lips before crashing your lips onto him, rough and aggressive which he reciprocated, hips bucking upwards to meet your clothed cunt. His tongue slipped out of his and slid its way inside yours, battling inside your mouth as whimpers escaped from you.

You pulled away from him. Eager for more, you could only tug his hair, staring at him darkly and boldly. “Don’t hold back on me,” you challenged. “I’m not fragile Jake Sim, let all your frustrations out on me.”

That was the trigger. The way you begged for him, and recalling all the kinks that you said to him. He found you not only bold but also a pleaser. — and that made him want you to writhe underneath his touch.

What is it like to have the golden girl on her knees and worship him? “Get on your knees,” Jake ordered. Almost throwing you away from his lap. You scurried your way down to the floor, knees touching the soft rug underneath as Jake stood up. Hands caressing your head as you look up at him, round sparkling eyes that’s ready to submit to him. 

“Show me how good you are at pleasing a guy.” Jake unties the drawstrings of his sweatpants, pulling it down until it hits the floor.

You only stared at the tent on his boxer, eyes filled with curiosity on his cock, making you glanced back at Jake. 

“Come on, show pres how good you are, vice,” he smirked, and the nickname only sent chills to your cunt. Never would you think he’ll give a good rebut with your nickname for him.

But you’re used to this. That’s why in one big tug, you pulled down his boxer, eyes wide at his hard length. Out of all the dicks you’ve seen, this might be the biggest you’ve ever seen. It’s beautiful, looking straight out of a porn video. Its mushroom tip is enough to tear your pussy apart. You unknowingly let out a small mewl as you wrapped your hands around it, stroking it lightly before you sinked it inside your mouth.

You wasted no time. Licking all the length that your mouth could reach. Cheeks hollow as you suck it in and out before releasing it with a loud pop. strings of saliva connecting your mouth and its tip. You lightly stroke it, teasing it around your fingers as you squeeze its tip, feeling the way it twitches as you do the action. 

You looked up to Jake and saw how unamused he is. Like he’s not satisfied with it, so you slowly let out your tongue. Giving soft kitten licks around his cock without breaking eye contact with him. You can see how he’s holding back, so in one swift motion, you swallow his cock once again and start sucking it in a fast motion. 

In contrast, Jake is slowly losing his mind. His cock is has become sensitive, soft groans started escaping his lips as you continue bobbing your mouth in and out. It’s warm and tight, and he loved the way your tongue licked along your movement. 

He bucked his hips to meet your mouth, a whimper escaping your lips as he continued thrusting it, loving the way his tip hits the back of your throat. That’s when he decided to pull out of your mouth, dick twitching as you only had your brows furrowed. 

“What happened —” you weren’t able to finish your sentence when Jake pulled you towards the edge of the bed, your back hitting against it as Jake stood in front of you. Its erected cock just an inch away from your mouth. 

“Open your mouth, tongue out,” Jake ordered using his usual professional tone. You’re not going to deny that it just sent your cunt throbbing. As you opened your mouth with your tongue out he slammed his cock inside yours. The sudden action caused you to bump your head against the side of the bed. Jake holds his dick inside you for a few seconds, feeling it twitch as Jake groans in satisfaction. 

“Fuck —” Jake moans, finding hold on his bed as his hips started to fuck your throat roughly. His tip hitting the back of your throat that it’ll leave your voice hoarse tomorrow. His thrust was erratic, you’re slowly feeling yourself dizzy by the way his dick suffocated you.

Your head continued bumping against the bed and mattress while your hands could only grip against the rug as your legs started to writhe. Your pussy’s throbbing that it hurts, wanting to touch it but you’re patient as you let Jake use you first. 

A gagging whimper escapes your lips as Jake sheathes inside you once again, holding it for a few seconds before pulling out and thrusting inside you again. 

“Look at you good girl, taking my cock so well,” Jake smirked, his thrust has becoming sloppy as he can feel his dick twitching, readying himself to cum, he pounds into you relentlessly and he swore that he never felt this fucking good.

“Fuck, drink my cum, take it,” he breathlessly moans, thrusting a few times until he felt his orgasm crash. The feeling was so new that his loud groan echoed around the room. Jake grips on the sheets tightly as his stomach tightens, hips pushing forward to sandwich you between him and the side of the bed. You couldn’t escape, eyes rolling upwards as his cum spilled downwards your throat, forcing you to drink the bittersweet liquid. Choking as the mouthful of cum was too much that your eyes started to water while drool dripped out of your mouth. 

Jake pulls out his twitching cock, still hard and aching while you gasp for air. Slowly, you can feel his hands on your hair before he pulls your chin upwards to look at him. Smiling at you devilishly like he’s proud to see your messed-up face with drool and cum on your lips.

“You did good,” Jake mumbled and you could only whine from the praise. 

“Don’t worry pretty girl, you’ll get a reward from me,” and before you could say any word, Jake lifted you up to his bed. He cages you between his arms and glances at him.

His hands went tracing the outline of your body, towards your stomach until it reached the button of your shorts, but before he could even open it, you called him out, eyes darting at you immediately. 

“You’re not going to eat me,” you told him. “Nope, I don’t do that.”

Jake’s face distorted into a confused one. “You’ll let my dick inside your mouth but not the other way around?”

“I find it weird!” you reasoned out, before grabbing his hands. Seeing its long, slender fingers along with the pulsing veins brought an idea in you. “Look, it’s either you just drill your dick inside me or use your fingers, just not your mouth, I’m not going to let a man’s mouth near my private area.” 

Jake could only laugh in disbelief. Someday, he’ll get you to let him eat you out, but for now, he’ll just let his fingers do the work. 

“Take off your clothes,” he ordered, before turning around to place his glasses on his side table, taking off his shirt and kicking his sweatpants out of his ankles. 

Jake turns around to see you sprawled on the bed. He stopped for a second. God, you look like a goddess with your body, but what amazes Jake more is your confidence as you only gave him a seductive smile. Your nipples were already erect against your breasts, which Jake unconsciously grabs the left side, fondling with it as his thumb grazes on it, sending shivers to you.

Slowly, he pushes you down the mattress, sitting beside you as his hands trailed all over your body. Hitching your breath as you watched his gorgeous hands feather on your stomach and stop just right on your pussy. 

“Keep your legs open for me,” he ordered and you did so. Legs sprawled as his fingers slid on your core. A dark chuckle escaping his lips — “fuck, you’re soaking wet already, did you got wet sucking me of?”

“Yes,” you mewled. “Please Jake — need you.”

But Jake hushes you, slender fingers sliding up and down its lips. “Stay still for me or you won't get to cum.”

And a soft whine escapes your lips. “That’s not fair.” 

The next thing you knew, his free hand was around your neck, a moan escaping on your lips as his fingers dipped on the right place.

“Stay still.” he said with a serious tone and you could only whine as Jake rubs your clit in a circular motion. His hands dipped further on the side of your neck, strong arms keeping you still as you shut your eyes while his fingers do magic in pleasuring you. 

“Jake —” another moan escapes your lips as you feel him slide two fingers easily inside you. Immediately pumping in and out before pulling it out. Opening your eyes to see Jake licking your slick out of his lips, his eyes locked at you as he removed his fingers out of his mouth with a small pop.

“You taste fucking good and you’re not going to let me taste it?” he teased, you could only shake your head as answer and Jake understood it already — he’ll be patient, but for now, it’s all about pleasuring you. 

He places his fingers inside you again, making you arch your back as he slides his fingers in and out, scissoring your walls open making you moan as both hands are doing god’s work to make you feel good. You watched as his left hand remained in your neck, holding you down so that you won’t move, large hands and pink knuckles wrapped around you making you hold onto it. 

“You like my hand that much?” Jake laughs, and a breathy “yes” was all you could answer. 

A loud cry left escaped your lips as Jake inserted another finger inside your pussy. You never tried having three fingers shoved inside you and it only stretched you wider. His pace became faster as it began to pump in and out, curling at a spot that made you legs shake — that’s when Jake knew. He remained at his pace, abusing the spot as he heard your uneven breathing, feeling you writhe against his hold. 

“Need to stretch you wide baby,” Jake darkly taunted, leaning against your ears as he whispered. “Going to make sure your pretty pussy can take my whole cock.”

That took you to cum, legs shaking as his finger fastened its pace when he felt your pussy clamming. You cry out his name making him slam your head deeper on the mattress using his other hand, tightening his grip that the pleasure from both actions only made you moan mutedly. 

Jake removes both his hands from you, legs still shaking as you try to catch on your breath. You closed your eyes as you felt Jake’s large hands patting your hair as a form of comfort, he leaned and kissed your lips which you immediately reciprocated, arms instinctively wrapping around his neck while you two got lost in each other’s taste. 

“Fuck me please,” you whispered against your kisses, and you could only feel Jake smile before leaving another breathy kiss on you. He separates from you as you watch as Jake grabs something from his drawer, you leaned on to see him sheathe the condom on his shaft. 

He glances back at you, and your heart starts beating fast. Damn it. You curse internally. Wondering how the fuck Jake still looks so fucking handsome despite the disheveled hair and flushed face. You can’t help but rub your thighs together as your eyes remain at Jake. 

He’s handsome, smart, and serious. He respects you but at the same time complies with your kinks. Even his performance and dick exceeded your expectations. You feel like you’ve hit the jackpot when you offered him to be his fuck buddy. 

“What position do you want?” he asked.

“Missionary,” basic, but you wanted the guy to do all the work. Smiling back at him as you asked his preference. 

“I’m okay with any, let’s just go with yours,” Jake said, smiling before pulling your legs towards him. 

You only lay down as Jake stretches your legs open, resting it on his strong thighs as he kneels in front of you. His eyes staring at your wet pussy before he positions his cock on your entrance. You could only bite your lips as you watch his tip disappear inside your cunt. Feeling it stretch your walls, already clasping for more, making Jake groan. 

“Shit — you want my dick so bad?” 

“More — Jake, please,” you whined. 

Jake slides his dick inside you within a second, earning a sultry moan from you as this is the first time you ever felt so full. He started his pace fast immediately, both hands on your waist as he lifted you like a ragdoll. Pounding on your warm walls, moaning with the way your pussy clamps his cock. 

“Jake — ugh — rougher please —” you weren’t able to continue your words when Jake wraps his hands on your neck once again. Followed by a sharp thrust, Jake leans over you with a serious expression as his grip tightens, knocking you out of breath making both your hands grab onto it, trying to grasp for air but at the same time, your pussy tightens around his cock. 

“You’re going to take my cock however you like, got it?” he ordered and you could only cry as his thrust became rougher like you wanted it. Eyes rolling in pleasure as he continued to abuse your holes.

Jake’s thrust hits right where you want it, his moans dragging out of his lips as he shut his eyes harshly. The pleasure was becoming too intense for him, your walls were sucking him harshly, warm and soft against his hard length. He can feel stomach tightening, dick twitching as a sign that he’s going to cum. 

Jake choked on his breath as he continued pounding inside your pussy, his shaft sliding in and out as your cries became louder. If it wasn’t enough, Jake pushes you down the bed, fingers pressing hard on each side making you arch your back. He can feel your legs kicking its way out, your hands trying to remove his hand around your neck but he only tilts his head in amusement, hips never stopping its movement.

“Jake! Fuck! —” you started babbling incoherent words. Eyes wet with tears as you tried to get away from his grasp. 

“You’re gonna cum now?” Jake amused, using his free hand to circle his thumb on your clit, earning a loud cry from you. 

“Please — I want —”

“You can cum pretty girl,” he whispered darkly. “You did so good, so you deserve to cum.”

You let out a muted moan as you stop writhing from his touch but instead, you started shaking. Jake lets go of his hand from your neck and replaces it with his lips, leaving feathered kisses as he continues to thrust inside your tight pussy. 

“Jake hhhh — too much!” you pleaded, feeling sensitive from your orgasm.  

“Just wait alright? You’re a good girl, you can hold it for me right?” he convinced, and those words only went straight to your abused cunt, nodding as Jake thrusts became uneven. It didn’t take a while before he let out a pornographic moan as he cums inside the condom. 

Jake was catching his breath as he lay down beside you. The heated atmosphere was followed by a quiet yet awkward silence. The two of you only stared at the ceiling, energy dying down along with the tension around.

“Woah” he could only say, both of you letting out a small laugh after sinking in what just happened between the two of you. 

Your eyes are drilling holes on the ceiling as you feel satisfied yet wanting for more. The sex was intense. You loved the way his cock abused your hole but it felt like it wasn’t enough. 

“Jake —” you hesitated for a second, looking at him who immediately caught your words.

“You want another round?” he asked, almost smiling. 

“Please?” your eyes pleading innocently that it made Jake’s dick twitch. A sharp inhale escapes his lips as your hand reaches for his half-hard cock, stroking it lightly before pulling the soiled rubber away.

“Want you more,” you said softly like a kid asking for candy.

“Of course pretty girl,” a kiss on your temple was all you got before he reached his drawer once again — but his actions stopped when you pulled his arms. 

“I want it raw,” you said. “Want you to fill me. Please Jake, we’re safe. I’m on birth control.”

Jake felt like his ears deafened with his words. You look at him with the pout on your lips becoming visible as you continue to stroke his dick, palming his tip and squeezing it at every chance you can. 

“Fuck — you want it raw?” Jake asked in disbelief. 

You nodded feverishly. You never tried raw. Even though you’re using birth control, you still need to be extra careful, that’s why condom is a must when it comes to your hookups. 

But with Jake, something in you is asking to be impaled by him raw. You wanted his semen to fill you up full and warm. You want to feel his seeds inside you — like how it felt earlier on your mouth. 

It didn’t take a second for Jake to grab you by the waist and flip you. You had your stomach flat while Jake raises your hips, ass up in the air as his hands are on the curve of it. A sudden slap on your right cheek made you whine, and if it wasn’t enough — Jake shoved his dick inside your pussy without a warning. 

His hands gripped on your waist tightly, thrusting in and out harshly, watching as his dick disappeared inside your pussy while your ass bounced against his groin. Jake groans at the sight as your walls felt more heavenly without the condom. 

“Should’ve said earlier —” Jake grunts. “I’ll fill you full baby, you’re going to be a good girl and take all my cum right vice?” 

“Fuck —”

“Look how you’re sucking pres’ dick, you really fucking want this do you?” he pulls a fistful of your hair making you whine in pleasure. 

“Yes! God! fill me up pres!” you shouted loudly. You felt another slap on your ass as Jake continued drilling his dick inside you. Hitting your deepest part that no one had ever reached. 

“Take it like the good girl you are.”

The room smelled like sex and sweat. Bodies slapping together echoed around the room along with each other’s moans and whimpers. The continuous action caused the bed to creak, headboard slapping against the wall, but both of you were too lost in the pleasure to care. 

“I’m gonna cum,” Jake spoke, hand letting go of your hair making you fall flat on the pillow. 

Your only response was a cry, before feeling your stomach coil again. Cumming unannounced with continuous, unstable whimpers followed by a moan. Hands shaking as it grips on the sheets so tight that your knuckles are turning red. 

Jake came shortly after, letting out a loud groan as his hold on your waist tightened, fingers pressing on the skin making you whine in pain. His warm seeds started to fill your insides, making you whine loudly as he dumped every last bit of his semen inside you. Thrusting sloppily until his energy is all drained-up. 

Jake pulls out, cock dirtied with both of your cum, he could only stare at your hole as his cum dripped out of it. Unconsciously gathering it using his fingers before shoving it inside your pussy once again, a soft whimper escaping from you before he pumps in and out until he is fully satisfied with it. 

You shifted to lay down on your bed, which Jake followed, brushing the sweaty strands on your forehead. “You did good.” he whispered to you, hands massaging your legs and knees while you closed your eyes to his relaxing touch. 

“I should go,” you said while your eyes remained closed. 

“Wait, clean up first —”

“It’s okay, I can handle it myself,” you insisted. That’s when you sat up on his bed before looking at him. “No aftercares okay? It’s too wholesome for me.”

Jake raised an eyebrow, “it’s not wholesome, it’s decency. I’m not going to let you go home with my cum dripping inside you.”

“What if I want that?” you teased, but Jake only chuckled on your words before scooping you up, startling you that you could only hold on his shoulders. 

The two of you reach their bathroom, Jake makes you sit on the toilet while he grabs a small towel, wetting it before handing it to you. “If you don’t want me to do it, it’s okay. We did it raw, I don’t want to risk you getting sick after sex, you need to pee too. I’ll be outside to get your clothes.” 

You only accepted the towel while he left you there, closing the bathroom door. Staring at the towel, you could only quip a small smile. Jake never failed to surprise you with his gestures, but then again, what else would you expect from the golden boy? He seems like he has everything sorted in his life. 

After you wipe yourself clean, you hear a knock on the door, revealing Jake who offers you your clothes again. You only smile at him, muttering your thanks as you wore your clothes. 

As you stepped out of the bathroom, you saw Jake fully-clothed in the living room, he glanced at you which made you walk towards him. 

“So,” you cleared your throat. “I guess our setup’s okay — you’re okay with it? Because I’m totally okay with having us as fuck buddies.” 

“If you’re okay with it, then I’m okay with it too,” Jake nodded in agreement. “It’s getting late, let me drive you to your home —”

“No, it’s okay Jake, we’re just here to fuck remember?” you reminded, and Jake didn’t rebut. “I’ll just book a car ride home. Don’t worry about me, I’ve been doing this many times.”

Jake could only quip a small smile as he walked you towards the door. 

“At least text me if you got home safe,”  Jake told you, and you let out a small chuckle.

“Alright, if it’ll make you sleep peacefully at night,” you teased. 

“Goodnight y/n, see you in Decelis?” Jake said hesitantly.

You tip-toed to land a kiss on his cheeks, winking at him as you said, “no, see you when we fuck again.”

-

It’s been two months since you and Jake had officially became a fuck buddy.

The set-up wasn't typical. It’s raw (maybe because you let him hit you raw,) but it’s intimate. The two of you also had discussed a lot of kinks to make each other feel good. Everytime you two meet, things spice up in bed and you two always end the night satisfied.

You’ve learned that Jake likes being a dom who complies to your wishes, which makes your set-up better. You consider him as a great fuck buddy especially when soft gestures and aftercares would follow after the rough sex, showing you that he’s not the only one benefitting on this set-up.

Outside the bedsheets, you two talked like you two aren’t each other’s fuck buddies. It was one rule that you had established and Jake complies to it. 

There were no wariness and subtle glances at each other. You’re used to guys texting you after, asking for dates or another hookup, they aren’t even subtle when greeting you inside the campus with eyes filled with lust. But Jake? Jake maintained his boundaries with you. 

He talks to you using his usual tone, acting like he didn’t shove his dick in your mouth many times. But you like it. You finally found someone who’s respectful with your boundaries and complies to whatever set-up you two had agreed. Despite the many times you two had sex, the two of you haven’t crossed the line. Both handled it maturely and were really just there for the sex. 

“Jake, I’ll be going now, y/n, bye-bye!” Jiwon announced, waving at the two of you who reciprocated it. The smile on her face was wide since her boyfriend’s waiting by the doorsteps of the club room. 

“Hey Jake! Don’t study too much, you’ll be out of our reach now,” Heeseung teased before grabbing Jiwon’s bag.

“Get lost you lovebirds,” Jake laughs, before waving goodbye to his friends one last time. You observed how Jake’s eyes lingered on them for a few minutes before continuing his task.

You hummed lightly as you focused on your report. The two of you remained inside the club room, stuck with tons of reports that became mishaps last semester. Incomplete documents and missing reports, Jake couldn’t help but to work overtime due to it along with you. 

“Did you ask your staff regarding this?” Jake asked in a serious tone, a pissed expression written on his face because some cases weren’t even during his term — some were even during his sophomore years, and it only showed up during his term. 

“I already sent a message on our group chat but no one’s responding to me,” you answered, checking your phone again but your message was left on read. “I’ll look more, it must be here somewhere.”

You stood up from your seat, going towards the files on the corner table. Grabbing it one by one to check if there may be some stray documents inside it — not noticing how Jake’s eyes were glued at you the whole time. 

Your hair was messily tied with a claw clip, revealing your nape that’s too tempting for Jake, completely a contrast against your immaculate white blouse that’s too thin, he can see the silhouette of your black bra. Then, his eyes trailed downwards to your skirt, the short navy blue skirt of your department. It’s a few inches above your knees but enough for him to see your gorgeous thighs and legs. 

Jake gulps tightly. Suddenly, his pants are too tight and his body starts to feel hot, making him loosen his tie. Eyes still glued to you, observing you who’s oblivious about his stares.

Jake’s mind started to haze, wondering why the room’s suddenly too hot despite the white noise coming from the air conditioner. But he remained glued to you — who suddenly dropped a document.

And of course, you don’t pick it up by bending your body, revealing your ass at him like a whore. You kneeled on the floor and picked it up with much demurity. Brushing the dust off your skirt as you stand up before going back to your task. 

His knuckles tightly gripped on the edge of the table, eyes watching you like a hawk. An obscene idea formed in his mind. And an idea that he knows isn't allowed and will surely lead him into trouble. That the act of indecency is prohibited by Decelis — but you’re just too tempting.

It’s almost seven in the evening. Usually there were only a few students around the building. A little stunt won’t hurt right? Jake thought before he stood up from his seat, strutting towards you and trapping you with his arms. You were startled, mouth about to open when you felt Jake’s hot breath on your nape — sending chills on your spine. 

“You’re going to be the death of me angel,” he whispered to you, tone dark and lustful that you felt yourself shivering. His body pressed closer to you, feeling his hard-on against your ass. 

“Jake —” you halted a breath when his lips landed on your neck, peppering kisses and soft nibbles making you bend forward. “Not here — someone might walk in.” you tried to push him away but he immediately grabbed your wrists, unable to tug it as he pressed himself so that you could feel his chest against your back. 

“We’re the only one here,” Jake assured. “Can’t wait any longer for you.”

“Jake stop — ah!” The next thing you knew, Jake had you bended on the table, cheeks pressed against the surface with his huge hands stabilizing it. Jake groans softly as he grinds his clothed dick against your skirt, moaning loudly as he rutted on it harshly.

Your heart started beating fast, body shaking and feeling violated with his actions — but at the same time, you can feel yourself heating up. It felt so wrong but your body couldn’t do anything, not even an attempt to struggle your way out was done.

“You want this too do you?” he whispered to you, your eyes widening as he hunches your skirt up to your waist, revealing your black cotton panties underneath. His hands fondling the curve of your butt, making you writhe from his touch.

“Stop —” You shake your head but Jake only pressed your face harsher, tears started to form from your eyes. 

“Be a good girl and behave for me? You don’t want to see their golden girl being a bad girl don’t you?” he taunted, and that thought had your heart racing. 

You two can’t do this. Someone might walk in any minute now. The door’s unlocked and the small window of the door was enough for you two to be seen. That’s when you struggled your way out but Jake grabs your wrist and holds it on your back. 

“We’ll be quick angel, it’ll be nice and you’ll feel good with it,” Jake said, fumbling with his belt with his free hand. He unzips his zipper and releases his cock free from its strain. Angry red and twitching, Jake was eager when he swiftly pulled your panties on the side, slightly rubbing his tip on its entrance which made you move away — but Jake hovered over you.

“Just be quiet for me, going to fuck you real quick you won’t feel any pain —” but it was the complete opposite of what you felt when his huge tip slides in without a warning. You let out a muted cry as Jake sheathes inside you nice and slow yet his huge cock is still too big for you for the sudden penetration. 

It felt so wrong in many ways — but you like it. You like the way that you couldn’t do anything about the situation. You couldn’t do anything but take his cock as he pounds on you senseless. You know that Jake isn’t going to stop unless you say so. Even if you tell him to stop a hundred times, he won’t — unless the safe word comes out of your mouth.

But it never did. You enjoyed the way his dick penetrated inside you, your pussy hugging it making you cry in pain and pleasure. 

“Jake — ah! It hurts —” you cried, feeling his thrust faster and harsher with his protruding tip kissing your deepest parts. 

“It hurts? Don’t fuck with me angel, you love it don’t you? I can feel you getting wet around my dick,” Jake taunted, giving sharp consecutive thrusts leaving you moaning incoherent words.

Your cries filled the whole room, along with the wet slaps of bodies as Jake pounds your pussy with no resentment. His groans lustful and dark, big hands gripping your wrist so tight that you couldn’t do anything but to accept your fate. Heart beating fast that it’s the only thing you can hear against the lewd noises. 

Then you felt it. You’re on the edge of your orgasm. A whimper escapes your lips which signaled Jake. He removes his hold from your wrist before wrapping his hands on your neck, choking you tightly as he presses his body against yours, body sticking together, uniforms getting creased as his hips never stop abusing your holes. The table beneath started to creak, shuffling against the marbled tiles while you crunched against the papers that your hand could reach.

“You’re going to cum now? See how you like it? My angel wanted to get fucked wherever she wants to,” Jake whispered against your ears, reminding you that you’re doing something scandalous inside your campus, and the risk of getting caught is there.

That’s the thrill, there’s nervousness inside you that had your pussy tightening against Jake’s length. Earning a sharp groan from him, as he teasingly chuckled. “With the way your pussy’s sucking me in, I can tell you love this angel.” 

With his expert thrusts, Jake made you cum in no time. A soft sob escaping your lips as the coil in your stomach tightened, knees and legs shaking that you lost your footing — finding balance on Jake’s pressed body against yours. 

Jake follows you shortly after. Filling you with his raw seeds making you whine too loudly that Jake covered your mouth with his hand. He pulls out immediately and starts pumping his dick, spilling a few strands on your ass and skirt, staining your uniform while his cum drips against your inner thighs. 

Jake could feel his cock twitching at the sight. You bent over the table inside the club room, uniform messed and creased with his cum stains. He couldn’t believe that he had the power and confidence to do an act that might risk not only his reputation — but also yours. 

But in the moment of silence that’s when Jake gently holds you, removing you from the table before facing you towards him — his face filled with a worried expression like he didn’t just violate you earlier. His hands go through your wrists as he lightly massages it. 

“You okay?” he asked. 

“What the fuck just happened?” you asked, still having a post-orgasm haze.

A hint of nervousness hit Jake, hands on your shoulders as he said, “I’m sorry —”

“No, don’t say sorry Jake, I like it —” but you slapped his chest, eyes glaring at him. “But what the fuck was that!? I didn’t know you’re into public sex!”

“It’s your fault, you’re just too tempting,” he admits, sensing a rush of relief to see that you’re fine with it. “You like it though.”

You two have talked about it a few weeks ago. Jake’s eyes widened when you shared that you’re into non consensual things, you love the way that you don’t have control on some things especially in bed — Jake understood what you meant, and you two established a safe word. 

You like it, you just didn’t expect that you two are going to do it inside the club room. Somehow, you felt nervous at the thought of breaking school rules. 

“Yeah, but what if we got into trouble?” you asked hypothetically, knowing that you two aren’t just students — you two are considered as the role models, it’ll be a huge scandal if they’ve discovered what you two have done.

“But it feels good right? Breaking the rules,” Jake grins, his hands on your waist while his half-hard cock poking your thighs. He seems to be confident about it while the worry look on your face still remains. 

“Jake, I’m serious,” you told him, heart still beating fast. 

“I’m not going to do it if I’ll be risking something,” he assured, hand brushing your hair as he lightly grazes on your cheeks. “Don’t worry pretty, I won’t give you trouble.”

Jake leans closer for a kiss from you, you could only close your eyes as you wrapped your arms around his neck, giving him a heated, torrid kiss that had you two immediately gasping for air after a few minutes. 

“I can’t believe we just did that,” you whispered against his lips. “I can’t believe we broke some rules.”

“And I don’t mind breaking more with you,” Jake whispered, and you don’t know what he meant, but as Jake pulled you for another heated kiss, you couldn’t feel anything but the rapid beating of your heart — something indescribable and only would you feel whenever you’re with Jake. 

-

If there’s one thing to describe with Jake is that he is rational.

He abides by every rule and condition given to him. One mistake can be a risk, and Jake, although a risk-taker, still will play safe if he doesn’t gain anything good from the risk. 

Even with your little set-up, Jake respects your conditions and abides by it. That little stunt a few weeks ago wasn’t part of your conditions but you two promised to never do it again inside the campus. Risk is still a risk, and it just sinked into him that his action was too impulsive and risky for you two. 

Fortunately, there weren’t any rumors circling around. Jake was assured that no one had witnessed the scene. Over the past weeks, you two returned to your usual setup — meeting only to have sex, nothing more, nothing less.

Inside his room, Jake was in the middle of his break. His laptop is left open while his notes are spread through the table. He leans against his computer chair as he plays one round of online games, something to relax him in between his study sessions. 

Suddenly, his phone’s ringtone pings, and although he’s in the middle of the game, Jake stops — abandoning his game because that ringtone is specifically for you. Jake looks up to his phone, receiving a notification from you. It wasn’t the usual message that you’d send if you down to fuck. Something about your message had Jake staring at it for a moment.

Hey, can you pick me up here? Just need someone.” your message says. It was straightforward. No flirty remarks or horny subtexts. Not even an emoji and that period — you don’t use periods. 

Jake thought about it for a moment. Wondering if you just sent it to the wrong person. After all, you two only meet to fuck. But in Jake’s mind — in his rational thought, you might be in trouble and the first person you’ve thought of was him. 

So hurriedly, he grabbed his jacket and left his room, going towards the room next to him and knocking a few times before it swung open. 

“Aera, can I borrow your car?”

Jake arrives at the location you sent. A convenience store wherein he can see you from its window. Sitting alone while fiddling with your phone. Jake calls you from his phone and as you look up, your eyes meet.

“Thank you,” you only mumbled as you sat on the passenger seat.

Jake looks at you for a minute. Compared to your usual perfect getup, you were a mess. Your hair is tied in a disheveled low ponytail, eyes red and puffy, obvious that you had cried, you were even holding back your sobs as you only cling on your jacket. Inside it was a tank top and pajama pants. 

You didn’t spare a glance at Jake, your eyes glued at the window of the car. The car was filled with nothing but silence. Jake didn’t want to push you to talk, so he decided to drive away — somewhere that’ll give you a peace of mind. 

The drive brought you two to the highway road, somewhere on the border of the city and its neighboring town. Jake had known this route since Aera brought him and Yunjin to her hometown. Turning right and leaving the highway, the car slowly drove towards a less traveled road. Almost empty and dark if it wasn’t for the few orange streetlights to give light to stray cars. 

Jake stops by the side of the road, somewhere dark and uphill. That’s when you realized you two had stopped. Glancing at your side, only to see that the top view of the city is in front of you. It’s beautiful against the dark night. Hundreds of buildings and establishments flickering like stars, showing you that you’re just a small piece of the huge city. 

“How did you find this?” you asked, almost a whisper.

“Aera, Yunjin, and I took a wrong turn one time,” Jake smiles, remembering the chaos it brought.

It was late in the evening, Aera was panicking while steering the wheel because she took a wrong turn. Yunjin was shouting how this is how a horror movie starts, while Jake was trying his best to find a signal from his phone. They were driving in the dark for so long, screaming and panicking until they passed this road, they eventually stopped. Relief came into their senses because they weren’t trapped in the middle of a haunted road.

“It’s beautiful,” you mumbled, staring at the view for so long. 

“It has become our secret place ever since,” Jake said, smiling. “When we’re tired, stressed, or just need to escape the city, we go here. You’re the only one I brought here, I don’t know about my roommates if they ever brought someone here.” 

You ignored the way your heart faltered with his words. This feels nice. You think, being away from the noise of the city. And as you clutch your phone, that’s when you remember the reason why you even left your place. 

“My sister and I…we had a fight,” you opened up slowly, making Jake glance at you. “We’re close. Very close, she’s my best friend, my ride or die you can say.”

But a bittersweet smile formed on your lips. “But sometimes she doesn’t understand me.”

“It's just a silly fight about chores and keeping the apartment clean, but —” a choke sob escapes from your lips, trembling as you inhale deeply. “Why does it always have to be me? I know she’s tired from work, but I get tired with school too. She always belittles my tiredness and it’s getting annoying — it’s like I don’t have the right to get tired.”

You let out a deep sigh before aggressively wiping your tears. “She thinks I’m all this smart and good at everything girl and I wish I wasn’t. Sometimes I regret excelling in my studies, all this extracurricular shits and being the golden girl because I can’t fail, I don’t want to disappoint everyone.” 

Jake quietly listens to your rant, realizing how you two are so similar yet different too. 

You both got the title because you two met the standards. He doesn’t care about the title, it wasn’t a crowning glory for him. While you hold onto it like it’s your pride, it’s something that will prove your worth. You may seem so alike but you two see the title so differently. 

“She doesn’t understand that I am not that smart, I study hard, yes, but I am not that intelligent. And everytime I bring that up, she thinks that I’m just lowering my self-esteem, but it’s the truth! I’m not good with everything! Do you know why I’m a communications student? Because I hate math Jake, that’s a cursed subject and it’s my lowest in my records. A fucking 2.5.”

Jake, being an engineering student, merely laughs at your rant. You had a pissed expression written on your face but the sobs never stopped. Jake wonders whether to take you seriously or not. But he nods at your words, trying to understand your sentiments because even he isn’t that great at some fields, like literature or anything with subjective essay writings. He hates those kinds of subjects.

“I’m sorry I dragged you into this,” you apologized immediately, realizing that Jake hasn’t said a word throughout your whole rant. “I know I told you that we shouldn’t do things like this, but I just really need some escape.”

“Don’t you have friends?” he asked, a curious question that seems to be far from your worries. 

“I have but they don’t study at Decelis,” you laughed, finding his question funny yet comforting. “That’s why I love being in the student aid, it feels nice talking to students and helping them. Some juniors look up to me, they don’t know I’m just this imposter who’s not really great at everything.”

“You’re not an imposter y/n,” Jake said. “You’ve worked hard to gain the title. They gave it to you because you deserve it.”

“Do I? Or is it because there weren’t any candidates this year? That’s why they just chose me since I’m the last option.” you rebutted.

“Maybe you’re sister’s right,” Jake said with a serious tone. “Maybe you’re just lowering your self-esteem. Y/n, you were last year’s Selene, you used to be the head radio jock of the radio station, and you never left the department honors’ list every semester — fuck, you’re the vice president of the student aid, everyone loves you! Is that enough proof for you that you deserve the title?”

You don’t know why but your mouth shut down when Jake rambled. You never thought that those words would come out of Jake’s mouth. Shock? Perhaps, asking how Jake knows you this much while you only know him through his touch and golden boy image?

Then it struck you and your setup with him. Like cold water pouring on you as you realized that you might have slightly broke the rule because you went to him and instead of asking to be fucked, you vented out your frustrations on him.

A curse left your lips as you glanced at Jake, eyes pleading and yearning as he only stared at you with his usual neutral expression, like he was waiting for your response.

But you only grabbed Jake by his hoodie and pulled him for a kiss, aggressive and salty as tears still continued to fall from your eyes. Strong hands managed to push you away but your hands remained at his clothes. 

“What the —”

“Forget everything I said Jake, we only meet to fuck remember?”

Jake wasn’t able to rebut when you pulled him for another kiss. At first he doesn’t move, but slowly he responds to your kiss, light and slow, like he’s careful of breaking you. 

And you hated feeling like you’re fragile. You pulled out of the kiss to grab the gear to adjust Jake’s seat — enough to give you space to sit on his lap and give him another heated kiss. 

Jake lets you dominate him as you straddle on his lap. Kissing him hurriedly as your quick hands immediately went between his thighs. Palming his cock, making him groan against your lips. You’ve done this many times and you know where this will lead — you being fucked out of your sadness.

But slowly, Jake stops responding to your kisses. Suddenly, he grabs your face, separating it from you. Seeing him with his angry expression and flushed lips, you could only whine as you grind against his cock, hoping that he’ll give you what you want. 

“Y/n stop —” Jake sternly said. “You’re vulnerable. We shouldn’t do this.”

But you bitterly smiled at him. “Jake, do you know why I do hook-ups? Because it’s my escape, so please, just make me forget everything.” 

“Not with this y/n —”

“Jake please! You might think I’m weak and vulnerable but I know what I am doing.” you said with a serious tone, pleading as you grabbed both his hands, placing it on your waist as your hips continued to move beneath him. 

Jake stared at you for a minute, thinking that he had no choice but to agree. It’s your setup with him. You two are just there for pleasure. If you can fuck him out of his frustration, why can’t he do it with your sadness? It felt unfair to go against your want. 

The two of you moved on the backseat. You lay down as Jake prepared you, scissoring your insides hastily, curling at the spot until you’re wet enough for him. He pulls his pants down enough to release his cock, pumping it lightly, smearing his precum for lubrication, and quickly aligns it on your entrance. Slowly, Jake sheaths inside you, earning a moan from you that he started moving. 

Jake’s thrust was frantic. Fast but wasn’t harsh, like he was trying his best to make you cum. He could only close his eyes shut as he pounds inside you, leaving you in heaving moans. His hands are both on your waist while your hands could only hold onto it for support.

“Faster, please —” You begged but Jake can’t and instead he closes his eyes because he couldn’t bear to see your face. Your eyes red and puffy from crying — yet it haunted him even in his mind. Your conversations replaying in your mind, Jake suddenly halted his action. 

“I’m sorry —” Jake could only groan, taking a sharp exhale. “I just can’t, I know you want this, but this is still wrong.” 

Jake removes his hands from your waist, almost feeling himself disgusted to do the act. He looks down on you whose eyes watered and that even breaks his heart more. 

“Fuck, I just can’t fuck you out of your sadness y/n, you don’t need sex to escape your worries.” he said to you. 

And softly, you said, “I’m okay with this.”

“And I’m not, you can forget your worries without me using you.” Jake stated, his tone became serious but there’s a hint of worry on it.

You only stared at him. Eyes wide as it just sinked into you what happened. Jake didn’t want to have sex with you when it’s the only thing that you two should be doing. But he did it out of respect for you, because he knows that your emotions are all over the place. 

“I’m sorry,” you only cried, making Jake pull you upwards, wrapping you close to him as you cried. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry —”

Jake hushes you, “it’s not your fault, I’m not mad don���t worry. Just let it out.”

“I just want to be seen.” you confessed, holding tightly on his jacket. “It’s like everything I do is not enough for everyone.” 

“You’ve done everything, you’ve worked hard for the title. Everyone loves you y/n, don’t ever forget that,” Jake softly said. Hands possessively around your waist as his other hand drew circles around your back. 

“It’s not enough —”

“You’ve proven your worth. They gave you the title because they know that you deserve it,” Jake said. “Don’t ever think that you’re worthless — that you’ll find your worth using sex, you’re more than that.”

“I’m sorry for forcing you,” you mumbled, feeling guilty all of the sudden.

“I understand your part, but I just can’t do it with your emotions all over the place,” Jake reassured, and that made you better than before. He knows his boundaries with you, agreeing to each other’s condition but at the same time, he doesn’t want to take advantage of your vulnerability. 

“Thank you,” you only breathed. “I — it’s just — I just need to distract myself.”

“That’s why I brought you here,” Jake explained. Hand patting the back of your shoulder. “This could be your breather. Don’t worry about anything.”

“Then, can we stay like this?” you asked suddenly, glancing at him who only remembered that he’s still inside you. 

Jake became quiet for a moment. “Do you want to?"

You only nod, snuggling closer to him, resting on his chest as you can feel the faint beat of his heart. “You’re warm, and it eases me…I don’t know, I know we said we shouldn’t do this but…I think this is the closest thing that we can do as sex.”

Jake only brushes your hair softly, a kiss landing on top of your hair before he said, “if it eases you, of course we can — and don’t worry about it, we can break a few rules just for tonight.”

“Just for tonight,” you mumbled back. Jake’s willing to break the rules just for you and it reminded his words back at the club room, leaving you questions if those rules also applied to your setup.  

But you remained laying on Jake’s chest, while his arms were around your waist. The two of you laid there in silence. Warm bodies eloping underneath the cold hum of the car’s air conditioner. Jake didn’t try to move, worried that it might stir you. His swelling cock still inside you, pulsing as your warm, gummy walls enveloped it. 

Jake knows that this is against the rules. Cockwarming is something you two agreed to use for foreplay but this one? It’s different, and new, — and rawfully intimate. With you finding comfort to have him inside you, making you at ease, Jake thinks that this one is out of each other’s conditions. 

He let out a sigh as he remembered how you two shouldn’t act like lovers. His mind racing with thoughts. Thinking if he should’ve just fucked you earlier, it wouldn’t lead to this kind of warm between you. 

But his conscience wouldn’t let him. So he lets you sleep in his chest, and as you deeply fall into your slumber with the night becoming deep, Jake decides to slowly remove you from him. You whimper a little but Jake managed to put on your pajamas back. Pulling his sweatpants up before driving back to the city.

Back in the apartment, Yunjin was in the kitchen, drinking a glass of water when she heard the door open. She quickly leaves the kitchen and her eyes went wide to see Jake carrying you behind his back, gripping tightly to your sleeping figure.

And as he makes eye contact with his roommate, he remembers everything Yunjin had advised him. 

“Sorry, I don’t think it’s appropriate to bring her to her home,” Jake excused immediately. 

Yunjin raised an eyebrow, “attachment is what will ruin what you two have, I’m just saying Jake.”

“I know. It’s just that she has nowhere else to go.” 

“It’s fine, but I’m just reminding you.”

Jake only nods. He went straight to his room wherein he places you gently down in his bed. He changes into his sleepwear before laying beside you. Hands instinctively brushing your soft hair like it was on auto-pilot. 

Then he stops — ponder for a moment, wondering if what you two did is still part of your setup.

But he knows that it wasn’t. You two didn’t have sex and he seemingly broke the rule. Everything that you two did was too intimate for a pair of fuck buddies. Attachment — as what Yunjin said, might ruin what you two have. It’s not too late for him to distance himself. 

Jake knows it was the rational thing to do. The moment you two established this setup, no rules were broken until tonight, and it’s because of him.

It was rational for him to fuck you to escape your worries. It’s the agreement that you two agreed on. Regardless of whatever emotions you had because at the end of the day, you two are just there for sex. 

But maybe, Jake wanted to break some rules. Ruin whatever you two have, and just be a mess — far from his golden boy image who always had sort things right. 

And he couldn’t believe that he’s having those thoughts. Jake has always been rational. He thinks ahead before making a choice. But with you, he somehow mixes his emotions and thinks about what might affect you.

You probably put a spell on him, and Jake wanted to curse you for entering his life as a hurricane, ruining his perfectly planned college life. — but he didn’t, instead, he planted a kiss on your forehead as he whispered good night to you. Because he knows deep inside that he wants the chaos too. 

-

By morning, Jake found himself alone in his bed. Blinking, he stares at the empty side for a moment before he sits up to grab his phone, seeing that it was a Thursday. He had no classes that day but maybe you had, that’s why you left early. 

Quickly, he left his room, brushing his bedroom hair that became messier as he walked towards the  kitchen when he heard bright laughter by the dining table. Familiar voices that are talking together. Jake’s feet stopped for a moment, listening to their soft murmurs and chuckles, sleepy mind trying to process everything before entering the area.

There he found you, sitting along Yunjin and Aera, with plates of full breakfast on the table. The three of them stopped, glancing at Jake who seems to be still drowsy in the morning. 

“There he is,” Yunjin laughed. “We were just talking about you.”

Yunjin’s words became mute as Jake’s eyes never left you. You’re still wearing your clothes from last night, sitting beside his roommates, who he cherishes so much, with a wide smile on your face. It wasn’t your typical smile, it was full of laughter and bright. A total contrast from your sobbing expression last night.

A relief rushed in Jake’s chest, seeing how you’ve become comfortable immediately with his roommates. He didn’t even realise that he was staring for too long that Aera had to literally shout his name — snapping out of his thoughts.

“Dude, are you still asleep?” Yunjin asked, laughing as Jake started to move. 

“Sorry, maybe I was.” Jake apologized before sitting on the empty chair. 

Jake remembered how you said you don’t have any friends in Decelis, that’s why seeing that you’re warming up with Yunjin and Aera, he was glad that you somehow found some female friends that you can comfortably talk to. He overhears you three talking about skincares, novels, even their chaotic love life was shared to you who only gasps at the details. 

By ten in the morning, Yunjin and Aera left for Decelis, leaving Jake and you alone inside the dorm, volunteering to clean the dishes on their behalf. 

“Do you have a schedule for today?” Jake asked, after rinsing the last plate. 

“I do, but it’ll be later in the afternoon,” you answered. “You?”

“I’m free for the whole day,” Jake said. “I should drop you off at your place so that you can get ready.”

“Okay, sure, thanks Jake…not only for that, but for last night too.” you softly said, making Jake stop for a moment but he gives you a small smile.

“It’s no worries, you can stay there, I’ll just go take a shower.” Jake excused. “...do you want to join me?”

Your eyes widened, an unusual invitation but you only muttered your “yes’ before Jake reached for your hand, instinctively, you accepted it as he guided you towards the bathroom. 

You wonder where this will lead. You sit on the closed toilet seat as Jake goes back and forth from his room towards the bathroom, lending you a clean towel and some spare clothes of his. 

“I don’t know if you use specific products, you can just steal some from my roommates. I'll just buy them in exchange,” Jake stated. That’s when you noticed the pile of toiletries on a holder beside the shower. Three tiers that contain different products, finding it nice how organized that roommates were. 

It made you smile, “you sure love your roommates, and they love you too.”

“They’re like sisters to me, we’ve been living together for so long that it feels like we’re a family,” Jake shared as he closed the bathroom door before glancing at you. “Let’s go?”

The two of you stripped off from each other’s clothes before going inside the shower. Jake opens the shower, cold water hitting your bare body startling you. You close your eyes as you brush your hair slowly making it wet. 

“Can I?” you heard Jake ask, and you don’t know what he meant, but he grabs the white bottle of shampoo that smelled like sakura flowers. He lathers it in his hands before carefully starting massaging your hair. 

His hands were gentle, soft and careful as his long fingers brushed the tangle strands. Strangely the act was so intimate and gentle, which you two shouldn’t do. It’s not part of your setup. But no one said a word about it, no one reprimanded the other for the act. The two of you stood there as Jake continued massaging your hair. 

Then he massaged a certain spot on your head, which you mindlessly moaned. Eyes wide when you realized your action, but Jake only chuckled as he continued his action before rinsing off the shampoo out of your hair.

“I can do it from here,” you said. Grabbing the bottle of conditioner, before glancing at Jake who immediately lets you be. 

The two of you continued showering together. Quiet in your own world, with the raindrop-like sound of the falling water as a noise. It felt odd for you, never tried showering with a male, the proximity felt uneasy since you two are bare without the act of sex. You become wary of your movement but at the same time, you’re at ease because you’re with Jake.

It’s not obvious that his eyes darted on you at some moments. You’re not that dumb to feel it, but you ignore it, immersing yourself with the cold shower as you rinse off the conditioner from your hair. 

Then there was it. A kiss on your shoulder was the next thing you felt. With the cold water trailing down on you two, Jake’s warm body pressed against yours and slowly wraps his arms around you as he continues to pepper kisses on your shoulder, towards your neck making you tilt it to give him more space. 

“Let me make up with you,” he proposed. “Make you feel good, more good than you think.” 

A soft gasp was only your answer. Closing your eyes Jake tightens his hold on you. His lips were busy with the way he kisses your body nonstop. Showering you with love and warmth as a form of apology from last night. 

You turned around to face him. Eyes locked on his drowsy ones as you brush his wet bangs before trailing your fingers on his cheeks down to his jawline. Memorizing every detail of his face as he remained staring at you. 

You wanted Jake — no, you need him. You can’t have him because it’ll break the rules, but you need his warmth and closeness. The same warmth that gave you comfort last night. Your eyes were pleading as you wrapped your arms around his neck before standing on your toes to kiss him. Jake automatically leaned on, kissing you back with much tenderness — reciprocating the way you kissed him. Warm, and sensual, different from the heated makeouts you two had.

No one said a thing about the way the atmosphere felt different. You two stood there, drowning in the way each lips moved and tasted each other like it’s your last moment on earth. 

You didn’t know how long the kiss lasted. But the next thing you knew, Jake had you cornered against the tiles, the shower continued to run cold water yet you can feel the warm of each other’s skin — not lustful, not hungry, something intense and dangerous that both of you know are too risky to bring up. 

You stared at him once again. Hands brushing against his wet hair as the thumping beat of your heart becomes too fast and loud, but the serene silence inside the shower deafens it. 

“I don’t want you to make me feel good,” you whispered to him. “I just need you close to me Jake.”

And Jake complied. He made you melt deeply into his touch. He made you sure that you felt like a goddess and he’s your devotee. His hands found their way to touch every part of your body, tracing and remembering every inch of it, like he’s scared that he’ll forget you. Making sure not a single part is left behind as he takes you against the wall.

The loud echoing moans mixed together with the continuous rain shower. Your whimpers and groans drowning as each other’s lips find its way with much tenderness — the bathroom has become hot yet intimate as you pull him closer, so close like you don’t want to let go of him. The proximity between you two only made it more special and different from the times you two had sex.

You’re taking Jake all the way in, holding him closely to your body, chest pressed to each other as your hands clasps on his wet hair strands as he thrust his huge cock to you until you’re seeing stars. 

Jake follows after, painting your insides white as he captures your lips once again. His cock softens inside you, but he remains glued to you as your arms are wrapped around his neck, feeling safe and warm against his body. 

“You okay?” he asked, breaking the silence. His eyes searched for you, hoping that your puffy red eyes won’t meet him. 

“I’m good,” you answered, feeling the haze coming as you smiled at him. Jake felt relieved to see that your eyes looked fine and normal unlike last night. 

After the act, the two of you finished showering. In tranquil silence, bodies and hair were dried before putting on fresh clothes. With that, Jake picks up the car keys and drives you to your place. 

As you reached the entrance of your apartment, you took off your seatbelt but remained there, glancing at Jake whose eyes were on the road. Now that everything has come down, you two realized that everything you’ve done starting last night had completely ruined your setup. 

Sure you two had sex inside the shower, but it was different. And Jake knows that too. There’s no way to deny the rapid beating of your heart, and as much as you wanted to acknowledge what you’re feeling right now, it still feels so wrong. 

“Thanks Jake,” you started. “Let’s just pretend everything didn’t happen.”

“Alright,” Jake shortly answers, not even batting an eye at you, and that earns a harsh tug on your heart. So quickly, you went out of the car and closed the door, leaving Jake who’s too quiet that he hadn’t realized that your words had crushed his heart. 

-

It’s been a week since you last saw Jake mainly for sex. You still see him in the club room, still in his serious president mode while you do your duties. You two haven’t talked personally and it sort of scared you. Wondering if you had hurt his feelings that day. 

But then again, no feelings should be involved, so why should you feel guilty about a possibility that shouldn’t happen in the first place? You chose to ignore it and decided to maybe take a break on your setup since things have been pretty busy lately, especially when graduation is in a few months. 

You only hum your way towards your department building, listening to your daily playlist — oblivious to the stares you’ve been receiving. You’re used to stares, but you didn’t notice that the stares were different from the usual looks you always receive. 

When you arrived at your classroom that’s when you realized that they suddenly felt cautious around you. Your forehead creased with confusion as it didn’t take you a minute to process everything because a classmate approached you. 

“They’re talking about you,” she said, tone filled with curiosity. “Is it true?”

“What’s true?” you asked, confused with her question. 

“Someone saw you having sex with Jake Sim in the club room.”

You felt your world shattering. Eyes wide as you looked at her as you freezed from where you were standing. 

“Where did you hear that?” you asked, trying to stitch up a lie because not only your image is in danger, but also your standing as a student. 

It’s a grief offense. You know what this may result. Suspension. Community service or maybe being stripped off the honor’s list — which is what you’ve been aiming for. No. This can’t be. 

“It’s circulating around the campus,” she said. “Everyone’s talking about you and Jake.”

Fuck, now it’s a hot topic inside the campus. You know how fast words can spread, and there’s no escape from it. Your lips started to tremble as you tried your best to try and make out a good excuse but another classmate approached you. 

“Hey, you alright? Mr. Choi is looking for you,” she whispered, an assuring pat on your back was all you felt as you nod at her. Nervousness hitting your body as the university’s disciplinary officer is looking for you. 

So it had reached the higher-ups? You could only let out a bitter smile as you turned around and left the classroom. Shame hitting your body that you couldn’t help but to lower your head as you walked your way towards the administration’s building. 

As you entered the office, you saw Jake sitting on the couch. Both looked at each other but no one said a word. Mr. Choi gestured to you to sit on the couch beside Jake, sitting on it while the man sat on his chair behind the table.

The air was cold and the tension was too suffocating. You’re there frozen as Mr. Choi stares at you two. 

“There’s a rumor circulating around the campus that you two were doing some…indecency inside the club room,” Mr. Choi started, both glancing at the two of you. 

Your hand finds its way to your finger, prickling on the skin of your thumb as your heart starts beating way too loud that it’s deafening your surroundings.

This is it. No more Latin honors. Suspension at a prestigious university, and you’re probably not going to graduate this year. Your parents will be disappointed with you, they’ll throw you out and —

“Is there proof?” Jake asked, snapping you out of your thoughts. 

“There isn’t, but it’s spreading outside the campus,” Mr. Choi rested his hands on the table, and somehow that made you relieved. “You two are the image of a good Decelis student, so to hear this rumor — we wanted to take abrupt action.”

“As the image of a good Decelis I think me and ms. l/n knows that we should oblige to the rules of the university, and such indecency shouldn’t be done inside the club, even within the campus,” Jake answered. Blatantly lying through his breath as he gave Mr. Choi a smile —the professional one that he uses to talk to higher ups. That smile that convinces the higher-ups that he’s a good student and it’ll work, they’ll fall for it everytime. 

“Ms. l/n? Do you want to say anything?” you flinched as you looked at the disciplinary officer. 

“Mr. Sim is right Sir. Choi, acts like that are forbidden according to the school rulebook, we aren’t that stupid to ruin the image of Decelis” you simply said, nodding before quipping a small smile.

The man only looked at you for a minute before letting out a sigh. 

“I’m sorry for causing you two troubles,” Mr. Choi apologized. “I believe you two — it’s just, rumors can be true, and we’re just surprised it involves you two who are great students. I know that you two aren’t prone to pre-marital sex and relationships, but this just shocked not only me, but also other concerned staff.”

Jake lightens the atmosphere by chuckling softly. “We understand Mr. Choi. It's no worries on our part and we’re glad to cooperate with you. Whoever started the rumor must be bored with their life.” 

“Are you two together?” Mr. Choi asked all of a sudden, glancing at the two of you. 

“We’re not, we’re simply acquainted,” you answered quickly. Too quick that Mr. Choi noticed how your voice was a bit defensive.

The man merely chuckles. “Alright Ms. l/n, you two may go back to your class.”

As the two of you left the office, Jake’s racing heart slowly slowed down. He only stood there frozen as he would never have thought that in his life that he’ll lie to a higher-up — or even be sent to the disciplinary officer, or just find himself denying a rumor. 

His knuckles turned round, nails digging on the palm as he tried to calm himself down. But his mind was clouded, he tried to compose himself as he started walking mindlessly — not until he felt you grabbing his shoulders.

You had a worried look on your face. Eyes trying to look for his stare but he’s just too numb with everything that just happened. 

“Jake —”

“Can you give me time to think y/n?” he said with a cold tone, making you stop. Jake didn’t notice the way he talked to you. His mind is still hazy as he lets out a deep sigh, frustration written all over him but he’s trying hard to act rational.

“Give you time to think?” you inhaled, disbelief written on your face. “Did you even had time to think when you bended me on that table and fuck me all of the sudden?”

A glare was given to you before Jake scoffs. “Suddenly? You liked it too, didn’t you? I would’ve stopped if you just said the safe word — but you didn’t, you fucking enjoyed it too. So don’t put this blame only on me. We’re in this together.”

You didn’t argue back. Jake’s right. You liked it too. The risk and anxiety of getting caught, there was adrenaline when you two did it. It was consensual, that's why there’s no one to blame between the two of you. The only problem was that the rumors floated, and even if you two had denied it, people would still talk no matter what. 

Both your reputations are on the line. There’s no guarantee that there’s no proof. It might circulate in a few days or maybe weeks. You don’t know when but it’s scaring you. Even right now you’re scared, everything is at risk now. 

“I did enjoy it Jake,” you snarled at him. “And you’re right, we’re in this together, but I hate how you’re suddenly cold to me. Pushing me away like you weren’t so caring and gentle with me a few days ago.”

“You shouldn’t have given meaning to it,” Jake rebuts. “And the last time I recall, it was you who told me that we should just pretend it didn’t happen.”

“I am not giving meaning to it. It’s just that you’re so quick to suddenly be cold to me like it was my fault that there's a rumor spreading about us.” 

“Because you’re suddenly confronting me! Do you know how scared I was inside the office? Everything is at risk y/n, my title, image, my academic standing — I’m on the verge of not graduating this year!” Jake vented out. 

“You think you’re the only one who’s at risk? I’m also at risk Jake!”

“Then what do you want me to do? Comfort you? Make you feel better like I did that night? Can you live your life without getting validation from anyone!?”

That’s when Jake stopped — realizing that he crossed the line. The shocked expression written all over your face as your lips started to tremble, and yet, it formed into a thin line, holding yourself back as you raised your chin to face him.

“Is that what you really think of me? But what do I expect from you? You’re still a guy at the end of the day. You’re no different from other guys I’ve slept with.” you took a step forward. Eyes wide filled with frustration and anger. 

“You know what, you’re right Jake,” a bitter smile forming on your lips. “And it’s unfair because I trusted you that night, you assured me that we won’t be in trouble. But look at us now Jake.” 

“Then, you shouldn’t have trusted me,” Jake coldly rebutted. “Maybe I’m just an imposter just like you deep inside.”

“You really are Jake Sim,” you nodded in agreement. “Maybe you aren’t who I think you were, and I can’t believe you gave me enough validation and respect for me to think that I still have enough dignity left. And I’m not saying this because I gave meaning to it, I’m saying this because you still respected me despite our setup — but in the end, you’re going to throw me away like everyone else did, just because we got into trouble, for something both of us have done.” 

Jake didn’t say a word. You only heave out a sigh as tears start forming in your eyes. “And now, you’re looking at me like you’re so disgusted of me, like I’m the one who spread the rumors. But you know what? I don’t want to cause more trouble for you Jake. Let’s just end our setup, since you care more about your image than me.”

“Fine by me,” Jake simply replied. “And in the first place, I shouldn’t care about you, we’re fuck buddies remember?”

That was it. The final nail to the coffin. You can feel your heart crashing into thousands of pieces and you hated that feeling since it’s prohibited in the first place.

“You’re right Jake, and that’s what you’ll think of me, not the golden girl, not your vice president — or maybe a graduating student who’s also involved in the rumors. It’ll be easy for you to throw me away since no emotional attachment should be involved between the two of us.” 

You walked away first. The heavy feeling inside you becomes more heavier as the tears start to form while Jake’s eyes never leave you. He wanted to follow you, grab you arms and maybe, correct every word he said to you. But he remained glued from where he was standing, frustration still clouding in his mind and anxiety still high.

The whole day passed by in a glimpse. The rumors still circulated, Jake ignored it even though there were some strangers approaching him to ask if the rumors were true. He only walks away from them, especially when your name slips out of their mouth. 

You never left his mind. Not even when he returned to his apartment. Dropping his bag as he reaches to sit on the couch. He lets out a deep shaky exhale as his heart is still beating fast due to his anxiety, feeling it exploding any minute.

The door of the apartment opened, revealing his roommates. Shock written all over their faces and Jake immediately knew why. 

“The rumors,” Yunjin breathes. “Were they true?”

Jake didn’t answer Yunjin’s question. He only sat there frozen, creating a staring contest with his roommates.

“Shit it was real?” Yunjin asked, eyes almost popping out of its socket, “you two were so fucking horny that you two banged inside the club room!?”

“Wait, are you serious?” Aera stated. “I didn’t fucking expect that you two, Decelis’ supposed role students would have sex inside the club room.”

And the more they pointed out, the more guilt swelled in Jake’s heart. 

“Mr. Choi called us to his office,” Jake shared, earning a gasp from his roommates. 

“What happened?” Yunjin asked.

“Nothing, they don’t have proof, Mr. Choi thinks that we didn’t do it,” Jake explained, letting out a chuckle of disbelief. “Stupid people, if they’re going to spread a rumor like that at least show some fucking proof.”

“Are you okay?” Aera concernedly asked. 

“I’m fine —” Jake stops for a moment, lips tightly sealed as he glances at his roommate. “I was just shit-scared for a second. I just didn’t expect this would happen.”

“You two should be glad that there were no videos or photos,” Yunjin stated. “Really, what went through your mind to do it in the club room.”

“I don’t know either, it was just the two of us left there, and we’re like the last students there,” Jake replied. “I did it out of impulse.”

“Jake, you never act out of impulse.”

“I know but —” Jake lets out a sigh. “I wonder what their reaction would be to see that their golden students are doing something indecent inside the campus.”

Yunjin raised an eyebrow, “is that a fucking kink or something.”

“No, it’s something I’ve been thinking about, the feeling of disappointing people,” Jake answers. “Thinking of what their reaction would be if they realized that I’m not as “golden” as they think I am.”

“And you involved y/n in that impulsive idea of yours?” Yunjin angrily asked. “Jake, do you even know the cause of your impulsive idea?”

Jake didn’t answer. He suddenly remembered your confrontation earlier. Remembering that it’s not only him or his image that’s at risk. So is yours, and he just happened to make it worse even though it was his idea who brought you two here. Jake curses under his breath sharply, making both Yunjin and Aera looked at him. 

“You know it’s not only about what happened in the club room that’s been talked about right?” Aera added.

That’s when Jake glances at both of them, forehead creasing, “what do you mean?”

“You don’t know?” Aera exhales. “Her sex life has been spreading inside the campus, guys left and right are sharing that they slept with her, they think that she slept with almost every guy in Decelis.”

“You’re fucking kidding me?” Jake angrily asked.

“They’re going around calling her a hypocrite because she’s the golden girl but she sleeps with a lot of guys. They think she doesn’t deserve the title —”

“She got the title because she was intelligent and met its standard, why does it correlate with her sex life?”

“That’s just how people are Jake,” Aera answered. “No matter how intelligent or beautiful you are, the moment a scandal is linked to you — you're done.”

The guilt inside Jake’s heart became heavier. He doesn’t know that but it doesn’t matter, what mattered was that it was his fault why two got involved in a rumor. And instead of assuring her just like what he had promised that night, he pushed you away — even carelessly spat words that didn't mean anything.

“I fucked up,” he whispered. 

Yunjin raised an eyebrow, “what did you do?”

“I fucked up —” Jake deeply lets out a sigh, standing up from his seat, startling his roommates. “Shit, I said some things to her and —”

“Jake, stop,” Yunjin said, approaching Jake. “Breathe for us, calm down."

"How can I? I need to talk to her —"

"Give y/n space first, she might not be ready to talk to you.” Yunjin immediately interjected while she slowly pushes Jake down to sit on the couch once again.

“If it eases you, we can talk to her and ask how she is doing.” Aera suggested, with Yunjin agreeing.

“Please,” Jake breathed. “Tell her I’m sorry and —”

“You’re going to tell her that the next time you two meet,” Yunjin stated. “But for now, take some rest, we know that you’re also affected by what happened.”

Jake merely nods. He could only lower his head as all he could feel was guilt, shame, and anxiety. He didn’t even notice that Yunjin and Aera sat beside him, both arms wrapping around him as they lightly brushed Jake’s back.

“I’m sorry,” Jake only apologized. 

“We’re not mad at you,” Yunjin insisted.

“You’ve been thinking a lot don’t you? Failing?” Aera lightly asked.

“Yeah, in the end, I was still scared of it,” Jake explained. “I just realized that there’s still a hint of pride in being the golden boy.”

His roommates only nod, “but don’t ever do it again Jake. We still need to see you give the valedictorian’s speech.” 

“That’s not my goal you know?”

“Right, and if it was given to you, you’ll end up loving it still,” Aera argued, making the three of them laugh once again.

In the midst of the noise and chaos of today’s event, Jake finds himself in the tranquil comfort of his roommates, thankful that he had them by his side. 

-

It’s been a few days since the rumor aired — and you and Jake had called it off.

A few days and yet your name still lingered inside the campus. New rumors and false information that seem to be an exaggeration. At first, you were scared to go to Decelis, knowing that all eyes will be on you. You attended class and tried to be invisible as much as possible. You skipped your organizations and went straight home immediately. You didn’t want to cause more noise, knowing that your image is ruined and there’s no point of redeeming it. 

But today seems to be different. Jake was surprised to see you inside the club room, doing your duties as the student aid’s vice president. You had a serious look on your face as you talked to your assistant who seemed to be following your orders without any wariness.

Jake stood there for a moment before Jiwon called him out, snapping out of his thoughts as he sat beside Jiwon who immediately started her report. He lets his assistant talk but his eyes never leave yours. Wondering if he had approached you, would you push him away? Or talk to him and act like he’s just an acquaintance to you? Pretend everything about you two doesn’t exist?

It’s been a few days and you and Jake haven’t talked. The last thing he knew was that you don’t want to talk to him anymore. Yunjin told him that you don’t want to cause him trouble and Jake wanted to tell you that it’s not your fault — it’s his. He wanted to explain everything.

But everything’s ruined. His harsh words cut deep through you that not even a simple “sorry” could fix it. It didn’t help that you’re still being thrown off by everyone, so what’s the point of talking to Jake? Will it fix everything? Your only wish was that the remaining weeks would be peaceful because you just can’t wait to get the hell out of Decelis.

Hours passed inside the organization. The atmosphere was peaceful yet for Jake, it was suffocating with you still acting like he’s a ghost. 

“Jiwon, my team’s report is done now, I had it sent to your email,” Jake lifts up his head to see you standing in front of their table. But your eyes weren’t on him — you were talking to Jiwon like she’s the president of the club and the one you’re directly reporting to. 

Jiwon looks at her laptop, clicking a few buttons before glancing at you and giving you a smile, “All clear for me, you’re leaving now?”

“Yeah, I have errands to do,” you told Jiwon casually. “I’ll be going now, bye-bye.”

“Bye! Take care on the way home,” Jiwon smiled, and you gave the girl a smile — a small smile that Jake knows is out of decency. 

As you exit the club room, whispers start to murmur inside. Foul words and remarks about you began to echo around the room, making him tilt his head as he turned around to look at his staff. 

“Do you think that she’ll agree if I ask her to sleep with me?” a male sophomore snickered, and that was Jake’s breaking point. He was about to stand up when Jiwon’s voice got to him first. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are? Does your mom teach you manners?” Jiwon angrily said to the sophomore, creating tension inside the club room. “Before you say anything about y/n, check the fucking mirror first, you really think she’ll sleep with that face of yours?”

The sophomore apologized immediately, but Jiwon wasn’t having any of it, “she’s still your senior, the vice president of this organization — if you can’t respect her just because of a dismissed rumor, then fucking leave, we don’t want shitty people here.” 

No one dared to reply to Jiwon. Jake could only nod as Jiwon returned to her seat, going back to her work like she didn’t lecture the whole room. 

“It’s always the ugly guys who have the audacity,” Jiwon muttered under her breath, making Jake chuckle softly.

“I just hope y/n is okay,” she added, with a concerned look on her face. “I was surprised that she’s here today — have you talked to her?”

Jake was surprised with Jiwon’s question, “why would you think of that?”

“Because you’re the president!? And I know that the rumors about you two were quickly dismissed but you should’ve told her to lay low for a while, people still talk.”

Jake doesn’t know what to say to Jiwon. How can he tell her the whole context of the mess? It’s not that Jiwon will judge him, but it’s hard to explain everything to his friend.

So he only gave him a small smile before nodding, “I’ll tell her tomorrow, you seem to be worried about her.”

“Of course! Why would I? She’s kind and sweet, and what she does outside the campus doesn’t reflect her image inside,” Jiwon answers, and Jake wishes that you could’ve heard those words. 

-

But Jake wasn’t able to get the chance to talk to you the following day because a photo of you and him circulated around the campus. 

You heard it from a classmate of yours. Showing the photo which you only stared at for a minute. It was taken from outside. It was a bit blurry, but it’s the two of you kissing, clothes still intact, thankfully. You had your arms wrapped around his neck, fully covered by Jake who was leaning towards you.

Your heart dropped on your stomach. You wanted to cry or maybe throw your classmates’ phone out of rage. But you returned it to her, giving her a bitter smile before putting on your earphones — deafening your surroundings, knowing that they’ll be talking behind your back. 

It had you wondering what’s the intention of the owner of the photo? Does it satisfy them to ruin one’s image? Why now? When they could’ve just posted it along with the rumor a few weeks ago. It’s like step by step, they wanted to ruin you two slowly. You don’t even know if their target is you or Jake or maybe both of you.

But as you sat there, you know it’s no use confronting that person. You’re just preparing for Mr. Choi to call you and give you a suspension for not only lying to him — but also for breaking school rules. 

But it never happened. The whole morning passed by with ease. Classes acted like normal, you listened to your teacher’s lectures like there’s not a photo of you circulating around. 

During lunch time, you decided to just skip the rest of the day and go back to your home and maybe, cry all of it because even though you’ve become numb from the past few days of being shamed by everyone, this one is just the cherry on top of everything that happened. 

You know that the stare will be there the moment you exit your department building. You didn’t care about them anymore, they’ve been talking about you a few days ago, this one isn’t new to you at all. So you walked with your head high, not caring if they're talking about you. You know they don’t see you as the golden girl anymore and honestly, you don’t care about them either.

“Y/n!” you stopped your tracks when you felt someone grabbing your shoulder. Turning around to see Yunjin and Aera along with her boyfriend, Jay. 

“Hey,” Yunjin was first to hug you, followed by Aera which confused you but you could only melt to their hug, grateful for the sudden comfort. 

“Are you okay? You know what, I shouldn’t have said that,” Yunjin quickly said as she broke from the hug. 

“I’m fine, I’m just — I don’t care about what people say anymore, they don’t even know the whole story,” you explained. “How’s Jake?”

Both of them only stared at each other, and it made you raise an eyebrow.

“Is he okay?”

“Jake’s going to owe up everything,” Yunjin confessed. “He’s talking to Mr. Choi at the moment.”

You felt your ears deafening at the sudden revelation. “Wait — why!? Why would he do that? He’ll be suspended.”

“Why do you think so y/n?” Aera smiles at you, and for a moment, you were confused by it. Then it just sinked into your mind. 

“It’s not because of me isn’t it?” you slowly asked.

His roommates only exchanged a fair share of glances. — that’s when you knew. Your feet quickly turned around to run towards the office of the student affairs, while Yunjin and Aera watched as you disappeared in their sight. A small smile tugging both on their lips.

You were catching your breath as you reached the second floor. Turning left towards the long hallway where Mr. Choi’s office was. Sprinting towards there, your feet halted when the door swung open, revealing Jake who seemed to be at ease. 

The two of you stood there, staring at each other. For a minute, no one said a word but Jake looked at you and then smiled. 

“What did you do?” you asked, catching your breath.

“Everything’s settled now,” Jake simply said. “There’s nothing for you to worry about.”

“I’m not worried about myself, people are already calling me names Jake, I’m worried about you,” you pointed out. “What about your reputation? Your candidacy for valedictorian?”

“And let you take all the blame again? It’s fair that I’ll be punished too.”

“I don’t need you to that for me Jake, I don’t want to cause you trouble anymore —”

“It’s my fault in the first place why we’re here,” Jake owns up. “It’s right that I receive disciplinary action from it.”

“No —”

“It’s okay, it’s fair,” he assured. “You’re not going to be alone in this one. I won’t let you.”

At that moment, Jake slowly walked towards you who stood there frozen. You don’t know why but the moment Jake’s a step closer to you, you could only wrap your arms around him, face hiding against his chest as he embraces you warmly.

Even after everything that happened between the two of you, you feel like it felt right to be in Jake’s touch. You missed him so damn much. 

“I’m sorry.” you could only say.

“Don’t say that, I should be the one apologizing,” Jake insisted but that only made you hide in his touch. 

“What will happen to you?”

“They only gave me warning,” Jake heaves out a breath. “They’re looking for the photo leaker, and they might receive a bigger punishment for taking photos without consent and ruining Decelis’ image — Mr. Choi thinks that we were just kissing inside the club room.”

Then you realized, the angle of the photo made it look like you two aren’t doing something indecent, just a light makeout. You don’t know if you’ll be relieved hearing those words. 

“You okay?’ he asked you, hands on your back as he lightly rubs it. 

“Yeah,” you only nod.

There should be a relief in you. Everything’s all settled now. Jake only received a fair warning. He wasn’t suspended and owned up to everything. He took the blame but you still feel anxious, you couldn’t help but worry that there’s more to come. 

“Are you sure?” Jake asked once again.

“Of course,” you nodded once again. 

“Do you want to get away from here?” he asked, that’s when you look at him. 

“Can we?”

And the only thing Jake did was grab your hand, squeezing it tightly before giving you an assuring smile. 

-

You two found yourself at the same spot. It felt different going there during the afternoon. But the gentle breeze of spring dissolves completely the afternoon sun. Jake had parked the car on the side of the road. Noise of cicadas and rustling leaves gave nothing but quiet comfort. 

Sitting by the hood of the car, the two of you munched on the burgers that you two bought through a drive-thru. Eating in silence as no one has the courage to bring up the elephant in the room. 

You only stared at a huge city that almost became a solace for you for the past few years that you’ve been studying in Decelis. It felt vaguely weird to stare at it during the day. But you come to realise that in a few months, you’ll be deciding whether to go back to your hometown and work there or maybe stay in the city, opening another opportunity for you. 

“Looking at the city,” you mumbled quietly. “I realized that we’re just small — no, just a tiny part of a huge place. That there’s a thousand strangers there who don’t know us.” 

Then, it crossed your mind all the things that happened to you for the past few days. Making you bitterly laugh as you take a sip on your drink. 

“In the end, we’ll graduate in Decelis and everything that happened will just be a memory for everyone.” you added, but there’s a deep sigh escaping on your lips. “I know that but right now, it’s so shitty. It’s like suddenly, my dignity is gone — I only slept with eight guys throughout college! And three of them don't even study in Decelis!” 

Jake didn’t say a word. He only gazed at you as you munched on your burger angrily, smiling softly at your cute expression. 

“But you know what? I’m just convincing myself that in the end, these people don’t know me at all, and they can talk shit about me all they want, spread lies and false information, I don’t care about it anymore. At least I don’t badmouth other people the moment gossip spreads inside the campus.” 

Jake kept quiet. Watching you take a sip on your drink before taking a bite on your fries. Jake’s stare remained at you for a moment. Hearing nothing but the faint beating of his heart against the breeze of the night, Jake knew that you have a lot of resentment in your heart. And he could feel nothing but guilt with it.

Even if he had owed up the rumors and only received a warning, he knows that it wasn’t enough for you to forgive him. Jake looks at his half-bitten burger before glancing back at you. 

“I’m sorry,” Jake started. “I’m sorry for causing harm to you, I shouldn’t have done it. And I’m sorry for lashing it out to you because the truth is, I was scared too.”

You remained glued to the view, but hearing that Jake was scared? That surprised you. It shocked you to hear that Jake, the person who you always considered as stoic and rational, was scared of something. 

“I thought, I don’t care about my title. That corny piece of title that only brings weight to my shoulders.” Jake spat, frustrated by the thought. “It’s not my fault that I’m like this, and it had me wondering, what would happen if they placed the title to the wrong person? Someone who isn’t who they think he is?”

Then, he lets out a bitter laugh. “What we did inside the club room was an impulsive idea. When we got caught, I was scared. I was afraid of disappointing people, and I realized I’m not going to let everything I’ve done become a waste just because of an impulsive idea.”

“Then I heard from Yunjin and Aera, that you took more damage than me. They were right, the whole day there weren’t any disgusting remarks about me — but you, you’re hearing worse and I pushed you away. I hurt you, I said words out of anger and told you I didn't care about you.”

“And I fucked up, I’m sorry I fucked up. You don’t have to accept my apology y/n but I’m sorry, I care for you — I don’t see you as my fuck buddy, you’re more than that and you know that. I just want to let you know that I didn’t mean every word that I’ve said back then.” 

“Is that why you confessed to Mr. Choi? Because you feel guilty of what happened? Did it ease your conscience when you did it?” you argued. 

“I did it because it’s the right thing to do,” Jake argued. “It’s my fault we’re here and I’m going to owe up to it, I didn’t do it just to clear my conscience.” 

You only laugh at his words, “wow, that’s so rational of you. You really are the golden boy, you even managed to save your image. Lucky you.”

Then, quietly you glanced at him. "You owning up to the rumors doesn’t change anything Jake. I’ll still be called a slut but this time with evidence, so I don’t know why you went through all that trouble when the damage has been done.”

“I don’t want you to get involved today, that’s why I told Mr. Choi, it was my idea,” Jake explained. “I don’t want your latin honors to be stripped away from you.”

“And in exchange, you let go of yours, Jake I don’t need you to do that,” you protested. 

“I know you don’t need to, but I want to,” Jake insisted. “Because you deserve it, you deserve to go up on stage and receive a medal. You’re the golden girl and you’re going to prove those who wronged you that you deserve that title.” 

You didn’t say a word, you only stared at Jake who only gave you a small smile. Cold wind passed by the two of you as you remained quiet because of Jake’s words. With everything that happened, you have completely lost the title. You don’t see yourself worthy of it and so does everyone.

“You really think so?” you asked. 

“You deserve it more than me,” Jake genuinely said. 

You wanted to cry, but all of your tears have dried up. So you gave him a bitter smile which made Jake stretch out his arms, and a small smile which you knew, so you scooted over him who only wrapped his arms around you. That’s when you felt at ease once again. Heart tired yet comforted when Jake’s warmth touches your skin.

“You’re more than just the golden girl y/n, you’re everything, remember that,” Jake breathes once again. 

“It’s hard to think of it when everyone doesn’t see you in that way anymore,” you let out a deep sigh.

“They’re just jealous of you,” Jake lightly teased, and that made you laugh.

“That’s right, they’re just probably jealous of me,” you lightly smiled. “In the end, I still have the title, my GPA's still higher than them. — and I’m just going to assume that those who talked shit most about me are virgins and guys with small dicks.”

That’s when Jake let out a laugh, making you laugh as you nuzzled more in his shoulders. 

“That’s a crazy thing to say.” 

“We’ll never know if it’s true or not,” you smiled. “Those guys who bragged sleeping with me, should be lucky because if I’m so petty, I would’ve shared a list and rated their dick and size performance.”

Jake hums, “I wonder what’s my rate in there.”

“Ten out of ten, you weren’t called the golden boy for nothing,” you sarcastically replied. 

Both of you burst into a fit of laughter. You could only feel Jake’s cheeks pressing against your head as silence hovered the two of you. A silent truce between the two of you was made. Both knew that there’s no point of arguing anymore since people will talk shit no matter what. 

“Do you think, if we don’t have our title, people wouldn’t bat an eye on what we did?” you asked out of blue.

Jake only hums, his hand patting your shoulders in soft beats. “People still talk.”

For a moment, you were quiet, then a frown formed on your lips. “A lot of students did it at the lover’s garden, but I don’t hear them dropping names.”

“Maybe it really has something to do with our reputation.” Jake concluded.

“I wonder what would happen if we told them the actual truth,” you blurted out. 

“Let’s not go there, I still want to graduate.”

And a chuckle escapes your lips. “So do I.”

“Maybe in five years or more, during homecomings. That’ll cause a stir.” Jake laughs, making you chuckle. “In the end, it’ll be just a small memory of our college life — but hey, at least we had a core memory.”

You two fall under silence once again. Enjoying the peaceful tranquility as slowly, the sun deepened and the city slowly started to fall to its golden hour. You could never be not in awe with the view, and you were glad that Jake brought you here. An escape from everything, somewhere in the middle of a small road, you suddenly remember the first time he brought you there.

“You know, this isn’t the right timing, but do you remember that time you brought me here the first time?” That's when you separated from his touch, looking at him with an innocent look.

Jake raises an eyebrow. “What about it?”

“I was really down for sex that time,” you laughed. “I was curious what car sex would be like.”

For a minute, you two were quiet before Jake could only let out a soft chuckle as he said “Get inside, backseat.”

Both of you jumped out of the hood of the car. Heart racing as you open the backseat, watching Jake open the car’s engine first, turning on the air conditioner before shuffling towards the backseat. 

Eager, you two immediately crash each other’s lips onto another. Teeth clashing, sloppy, and breath-stealing as Jake’s hand’s grab your waist and push you to lay down, head resting on the car's window as he continues to makeout with you. 

Hastily, you fumbled the belt of his slacks, pulling it down along with his boxers so that his cock sprang free from its strain. A soft gasp escaped his lips as you started stroking it fast and tight. You missed this. You missed his touch and the way he pounds inside you, you can already feel your core getting wet by the thought that you’ll be fucked by Jake again.

The two continued making out inside the car. Tasting each other's lips like you two were starved for years, it was rush and eager. The temperature started to rise, fogging the window as you two were too lost to care if any car might pass by and witness the obscenity inside the car. 

“To think we’re still wearing our school uniforms,” Jake mumbled between your kisses. His hands finding its way on your blouse, unbuttoning it hastily to reveal your pink bra which hugs your breast perfectly. 

“I guess this is the real scandal for us,” you teased before lightly grazing the tip of his cock on your clothed pussy. Soft moans escaped on each other’s lips as Jake couldn’t help but to rut against your cunt.

“I can’t wait anymore —”

“Me too, just fuck me Jake.”

Quick and hasty, Jake helped you slide down your panties until it hangs on your left ankle. One leg lifted on his shoulder while the other one was sprawled on the floor. 

It was cramped and small but your mind was now in haze. Jake was eager as he pushed his shaft inside you, your cunt pulsing on its bulbous head, as you forget how big his dick was, making you deeply gasp. You moaned loudly when Jake began thrusting inside you that the sudden pleasure left you choking on your breath. Mouth wide as you gasp for air — until Jake instinctively wrapped his hands around your neck, making you roll your eyes in pleasure. 

The car started creaking against the ground. Windows fogging up as your hand clasped on the windows while Jake continued pounding inside you. Bodies were starting to sweat, wetting and creasing your uniforms but the ministry didn’t stop. You two wanted to make up for the lost time, the pleasure becoming too intense that only cursed words and breathy sounds escape on each other’s lips. 

“Shit —” Jake cursed as he raises your hips and slams his cock at a new angle, earning a whimpering moan from you. “So good, all mine — want to make you mine.”

You gasp for air as those words haze your mind. “Jake —” 

“You don’t know how crazy you drive me y/n, shit —” Jake started blubbering words. Messy, word vomits as he continues pounding inside you. 

“You can’t just say that — ugh, hngh! while railing me —” you grabbed his tie, tugging him closer until he’s an inch close to your face. “It's not fair!”

Jake realized the words escaped his lips, he knew it was wrong and whatever you two have is still blurry. “Then forget it —” 

“No, fuck you! Is this real?” you snarled at him. “Jake, tell me, is this real?”

“I’m serious,” Jake answered immediately, and your eyes only widened. 

“Jake —”

“I’m fucking serious —” he presses his forehead on yours, thrusts turning into slow, sensual grinding, something that made you even fell his hard cock penetrate your walls full. “At some point, we’ve broked our setup the moment you we were together but didn’t fuck.”

“But pretended like we’re nothing —”

“And it kills me every damn time. You don’t know how it pains me to ignore you, to not cross boundaries but fuck — I want us to be something else aside from this set-up.”

You were stunned. You never thought that Jake would confess. You know that there were a lot of times were the lines were blurred, there were moments that were too intimate to be considered as something fuck buddies would do.

And you like every bit of it. You know that emotional attachment is prohibited, it’ll ruin your professional, monogamous set-up that’s only for the sake of pleasuring each other. 

But you’re ruined for Jake enough to not care about the rules. After everything that happened between the two of you, the least you could have was having him by your side, and it seems like the gods are in your favor because Jake is also in the same whirlwind as you are. 

“I like you too Jake,” you confessed to him. “The truth is I didn’t want to talk to you because I was scared of my feelings. I like you enough that I don’t want to cause you trouble anymore.”

“Fuck — and that had me spiraling, you’re ruining me you know?” and with that, Jake plants a kiss on your lips.

“What happened to being rational?”

“All gone the moment you let me fuck you,” a sharp thrust stabs your pussy, earning a moan from you as you look at Jake who only smiled at you. “All I need is your words baby, and you’ll be mine.”

“Take me Jake,” you told him. “Want to be yours.”

Jake moves his hips once again. Grabbing your other legs as he folds it onto your chest, slipping out his cock and slamming it with one sharp thrust, earning a loud moan from you. 

He continued pounding on you harshly. The new angle hitting your sensitive spot which made you cry further in pleasure. Jake grunts as he stabs your tight, warm walls with his huge length nonstop. Pride swelling inside him as your juices started to coat his dick. 

“Fuck!” you mewled, stretching out the word as you felt your stomach knotting in a pit.

“You’re gonna cum now? Cream my cock baby, show me who owns this pussy,” Jake ordered as he continued thrusting inside you. 

The car creaked more aggressively as you reached your orgasm, crying loudly as Jake followed after. Groaning loudly as warm cum painted your walls white. He brings down your legs after a few seconds, lightly massaging your thighs as he hovers over you and peppered your face with kisses.

“You did good, baby,” Jake whispered to you, kissing you on the lips softly while you only whined as he pulled out from your pussy.

“We’re not doing this ever again,” you told him, and that made him stop, surprised by your words. “It’s too cramped! I’d rather be in bed, at least we’re comfy there.”

It took a minute for Jake to sink what you said before laughing and kissing your temples. “Ever thought of trying it in the kitchen? Maybe you’ll let me eat you —”

“Not going to happen,” you gritted your teeth. “God, were still acting like we’re fuck buddies.”

“At least we can finally act as lovers now,” Jake teasingly said before hovering you once again for a deep kiss. Full of love and yearning for you. 

-

Epilogue.

The huge convention hall was filled with thousands of graduating students. Wearing their best formal dresses and suits, the atmosphere was lively and bolstering with noise and excitement. 

It was the annual graduation night. The opening for the university’s graduation season. Every graduating student was invited to celebrate the end of their college life — and the beginning of another chapter in their life. It was their last night to socialize and meet new people. 

You entered the hall clad in a long maroon dress that gives your body a silhouette along with a pearl set from your mother. But that wasn’t the reason all heads turned to you.

Next to you was Jake, heavenly to look at with his black button-up, sleeves folded revealing his strong arms, right hand holding your left hand. He stood there proud with his clean brush-up hair, suiting his sharp godlike face along with his black-rimmed glasses. 

After you two decided to be together, your relationship remained a secret since you two don’t want to add fuel to the fire even though you two don’t care about each other’s damaged reputation anymore. You two remained professional inside the campus, no glances or subtle touches, which made everyone assume that the photo is just a hoax since you and Jake kept quiet about it. 

The rumors disappeared after a few weeks. You heard that the photo owner got suspended due to some violations. Whatever Jake negotiated with Mr. Choi worked in your favor. People still talk, but you’ve learned to prioritize your peace and just let people wander. 

Yet, you were still a petty girl inside. So you two dropped the bomb during the graduation night by attending it with Jake, close like lovers and it made everyone wonder — what’s the deal between the two of you? Were you two together because you two hold the same title? Or were the rumors actually true?

As their eyes remained at you two, you could only smile as you focused on the photographer’s words, telling you to pose like lovers which only made you smirk before resting your head on Jake who instinctively placed his hands on your waist while the two of you posed for the camera. Jake heed no attention to the strangers around, all he thinks is that tonight is a night of celebration with you and his close friends. 

All eyes remained at you two as you walked towards your reserved table where Jake’s close friends and roommates were seated, watching the scene unfold earlier. 

“You guys know how to make an entrance,” Jay teased, arms resting on Aera’s chair who’s smiling ear to ear. “You guys beat Heeseung and Jiwon in stealing tonight’s attention.”

“A few months ago, you two got caught into some scandal, now you decided to attend the night together? You guys are just stirring the rumor again,” Heeseung obliviously laughed, the whole table was laughing but Jake and you only glanced at his roommates who were holding back their laugh.

“Let people wander,” you only smiled. 

While waiting for the program to start, you only socialized within the table. Listening to their stories and jokes, you find yourself laughing at the embarrassing things they share, especially when it involves your boyfriend who only looks away with a small smile on his face. His hands rested lightly on your thigh while both your hands circled around it. Fidgeting with the rings on it, giving you a sense of comfort on it.

“Just in time, you two are here!” the two of you turned around to see Yunah, the new editor-in-chief of Decelis Publications, approaching your table. “We’re interviewing graduating students for our post, and of course, we couldn’t miss interviewing you two.”

Jake glanced at you who only smiled at the girl. “Sure, we don’t mind.”

You two follow Yunah at a corner where it wasn’t that crowded, she explains how it’ll be done, giving you two one question: what’s the one thing that you’ll miss in Decelis?

“The student aid,” Jake answered without any hesitation. “They helped me during my freshman year, and I’ve been with them from the start. I hope that the new set of officers will continue the act of helping each other and becoming a support system to our students.”

Yunah only smiled at them, “as expected from the president of the organization, how about you ms. y/n?”

“Same with me! I’ll miss helping students and its communal unity, the organization is a safe space and I hope it continues to do so, especially to incoming freshmen.” you explained. 

“That’s such a wonderful answer from both of you. It’s no wonder that the students this year were at ease. Both of you were in charge of the organization,” Yunah shared, and that thought eases your heart. 

“It’s not just us, but it’s the whole organization who made an effort,” Jake rebutted, and you only nodded in agreement.

Yunah only smiled as she jots down the answer. “Okay, I have a bonus question just only for the two of you. Since you two currently hold the title of the ‘golden boy’ and ‘golden girl,’ who are you eyeing to pass the title to?”

But both you and Jake only looked at each other, a meaningful smile before glancing back at Yunah who’s waiting for your answer. 

“We don’t know honestly,” you laughed. “You have to earn it, and it’s not something we can pass to someone. But to whoever will be the next after us, I hope they wear it with confidence.”

“And, don’t let it be a weight that you’ll have to carry. They gave it to you because they know you deserve it, just like what y/n said, wear it with confidence.” Jake added.

“Woah, no wonder the title was given to the two of you,” Yunah said. “Thank you for the interview, but between you two and me, are you two together?” “We’ll keep that one a secret.” you winked.  

The program started a few minutes later. A few messages from the directors and administrators of the university, inducing a warm applause from the students. It was followed by the formal proclamation of the awards and student leaders while food was served to every table. 

One by one, the people at your table would go up and receive their honors. You could only smile as they receive their achievements with a smile. Soon, the table was filled with certificates and glass trophies.

“And for this year’s batch valedictorian,” the director announced. You only looked at Jake as your hands found his, fingers intertwining as a stranger’s name was called by the director. A pity smile was all you can give but Jake squeezes your hands. 

“It’s okay,” Jake smiled, knowing that it wasn’t his goal. “I’m still the valedictorian of the engineering department.”

You only laughed at his comment, watching him tug your clasped hands near his heart. “Plus, you're mine now, and I think that's a bigger win than being the batch’s valedictorian.”

A smile and blush on your face was all he could see before you looked away. “I hate you and your flowery words Jake Sim.”

“I love you too,” he whispered to your ears, making you smile before stealing a kiss on his cheeks, taking it as an opportunity to rest your head on his shoulder. Feeling at ease as you listen to the student’s speech.

“Hey, do you wanna know when I knew that I had fallen for you?” Jake asked out of blue. 

You hummed for a second, curiosity killing you. “Shoot.”

“It was when I saw you talking to Yunjin and Aera by the dining table,” Jake answered. “I remembered how you said your friends aren’t around, and seeing you laughing with them, I don’t know, it feels like you fit with them.”

You felt your heart swelling with joy as you looked up at Jake who only had his boyish smile. 

“Jake, that was so sweet — I can’t believe you would think of that,” you smiled, eyes gleaming bright as your free hand found its way to Jake’s nape, brushing his hair delicately. “Wanna know mine?”

“Go on,” he grins. 

“When we had sex at the club room,” you straightforwardly said, watching Jake’s eyes widen and smile turning into a thin line. 

“Kidding! It was when you didn’t want to have sex with me because I was vulnerable,” you explained, the teasing smile on your face shifted into a genuine one. “It made me realise that there are guys who still respect me even if I'm okay with it.” 

Jake could only scoff in disbelief before pinching your cheeks, making you whine as he grins teasingly. “So somewhere in our setup we really broke the rules.”

“And I’m glad we did,” you stated, tapping the end of his nose. “And I’m kinda glad you confessed first because I’ll most likely bring my feelings for you to my grave.”

“It was a swirl of the moment!” Jake rebutted, and it only made you laugh. “What happened to ‘it’s proven that college couples break up after graduation?’” you reminded.

And before he could answer, Jake steals a short kiss on your lips, surprising you as the smirk on his lips formed. “We’ll prove it wrong then.”

[endlessapples]

Summer's Paradise | 1 The Warmth

xia yizhou | caleb x reader

synopsis:

Waking up in a different world where you have to pretend you have amnesia to get by is one thing. Waking up in a different world where you're married to a complete stranger and have to pretend you have amnesia is another. Yet, this stranger seems to know you well. Too well. And with everything this world seems to be hiding from you, he's the only one you can bring yourself to trust. But when distrust wedges itself between you and your newfound connection with this stranger-turned-husband, you begin to doubt if you can ever find a way to leave this world and return back to yours.

tags: eventual smut, amnesia, eventual forced imprisonment, transmigration, yandere!caleb, dark!caleb, domestic fluff (weirdly enough), manipulation, themes of forceful confinement, slight angst, married!au

word count: 5.1k

1 the warmth | 2 the smoke | 3 the heat

When you wake up in the hospital, blearing white light fills up your vision. And when it clears, your gaze settles on a stranger sleeping on your small cot.

He’s entirely too big for the room. You can see that from the uncomfortable position he’s in, on his knees and bent over so that he can keep his head propped up on your bed. His hat, black to match the uniform he’s in and broad-capped, rests next to his feet.

And then you look down and realize that he’s clutching your hand tightly in his. Even though he’s asleep, you notice almost aimlessly that his grip is so tight that you’re almost certain blood isn’t even properly flowing to your fingers anymore. You try to wiggle your fingers. Yup, an hour more and you’d probably lose that hand.

He twitches. And then he jolts up, almost knocking his head against yours. His eyes are shockingly purple—the shade of the night sky of the last sunset of summer, right after the sun dips below the horizon.

Your mouth gapes open in shock, and you almost fall back. His reflexes are quick—before your head even dips down, he’s already caught you by your waist and settled you back down on the bed. Gently. Cautiously.

“Whoa there, Pipsqueak!” he laughs. And then concern flashes through his eyes, and his hands have reached up to cup your cheeks. His touch is slightly warm. His voice softens all of a sudden. “How are you feeling?”

You flush under his intense scrutiny. He’s really a handsome man. Pause, you mentally smack yourself, this man is a stranger and he’s in your hospital room!

Wait, why are you in a hospital room?

You remember your desk at your apartment. You had been running off of no sleep and pushing towards an all-nighter, scanning through papers and spreadsheets desperately to meet your project’s deadline. And you remember setting an alarm for a 20-minute nap. And then you fell asleep...and now you were in the hospital?

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, finally finding your voice. You crane your neck to try to move out of his grip. “Um, who are you?”

He pauses. He looks hurt, concerned, sad, and weirdly enough, almost numb to your words. He withdraws his hands from your face.

“I’m Caleb.” A smile strains onto his face, almost like it was rehearsed and repeated, at the blank expression on your face. “Xia Yizhou.”

Caleb. Xia. The characters ring with familiarity in your head for a second. And then the feeling is gone.

“I’m—,” you begin to say, but before you’ve even finished saying your name, it’s already fallen off his lips.

Weird. How did he know your name? Alarm bells are ringing in your head all of a sudden. Just because he’s a good-looking guy doesn’t mean you should be okay with him being all up in your personal space. After all, he could be a killer or a weirdo. A good-looking one at that. And you’re his next bed-bound victim.

Your gaze falls down, and you begin to notice the band-aids wrapped tightly around you. One peek down the collar of your hospital pajamas has you noticing that even your chest is wrapped with white gauze. Even underneath your sleeve, you can see the band-aids. And your palms, on closer look, there’s a scab over your healing scrapes.

“Did I get hit by a car or something?” you muttered to yourself.

The stranger—Caleb, you correct yourself in your mind—shakes his head fiercely. “You got attacked by wanderers. When you were with me. I...” He stops speaking and drops his head.

Wanderers?

You stare at him even more blankly. And then your hands fly to your mouth. Your voice comes out in a hush, as your eyes dart around anxiously: “Is this like a zombie apocalypse or something? Are they surrounding the hospital right now? Are we going to die?”

A laugh of disbelief leaves his mouth before he can stop it. And then he stops, his head raising up and his eyes squinting in confusion, and then he looks even more concerned. Were there actually zombies? At that rate, you should’ve just been left for dead. Or Undead.

“Wanderers. They’re monsters that roam around after coming to earth, and you are a hunter...,” he pauses, “were a hunter who hunted them down.”

You feel relief dawning on you for a second at the fact that zombies aren’t part of this new weird reality you had awakened yourself to and then horror dawns on you when you realize that perhaps, these wanderer monsters perhaps aren’t any better to deal with. Especially when it seems like it is...or it was your job to deal with them.

“Like, with weapons?” you whisper, in shock. He nods. You are sure the only weapon you ever wielded was pepper spray walking home at night from overtime. Hell, you often had to ask your neighbor to help you bring up the heavier packages from the mailroom to your place.

But true to his words, you can feel that you are stronger, more muscular and toned, despite being what looks like hospitalized and severely injured.

Okay, so everything is seeming much less than a caffeine-induced nightmare and more like a twisted version of your normal reality.

“So I’m not a...hunter anymore?” you speak carefully.

He stares at you, in silence. He looks like he was contemplating a hard decision. And then he shakes his head.

“No, not anymore.”

Sure, you are certain that this version of you on the outside is still very much capable of swinging some heavy sword. But the you on the inside is someone who finds public-speaking during your meetings terrifying. Much less having the courage that it takes to slay monsters.

But you still tentatively ask. “Why?”

His eyes crinkle all of a sudden. His left hand reaches out, and he fondly strokes the top of your head. You don’t find it repulsive or jarring. His touch is...familiar.

“You tell me, Pipsqueak. After all, you decided to quit after we got recently married.”

Married? You blubber at his response. Your index finger reaches out to point at him, and then back at you, and then back at him.

And then your vision goes black.

🍏🍎

When you wake up, you are hopeful that what will meet your gaze would be the black screen of your overworked laptop and a drool-covered notepad with smudged ink. But instead, you can hear hushed whispers speaking with each other.

“Amnesia...Might be long-term...Recovery unknown...”

You peek an eye open. Damn, you are still in the hospital room.

Caleb somehow immediately senses that you had awakened, and in a flash, he’s by your side with the doctor—an aging man with a couple of gray hairs in his otherwise black hair—next to him. He reaches out and pats your cheek lightly, drawing your attention up to his face.

“Look, Pipsqueak, the doctor said that I can bring you home starting next week. It looks like most of your injuries are close to being fully recovered and being home will be good for your psychological well-being and might help you remember anything.” He flashes a confident smile.

The doctor beside him nods before adding. “These cases are rare, and we don’t know if there’s a cure, but taking some time to rest more will help stabilize your body and your mind. We’ll release you once it looks like you can fly, and I can refer you to a neurologist for support.”

Caleb’s smile temporarily strains before it relaxes. You feel like it was a trick of your eyes with how subtle and quick it is. He speaks, not to you but to the doctor. “But no pressure, right? She’ll need to take it slow and then we’ll reach out to one in Skyhaven once she’s all adjusted.”

His gaze slides down to you. “Right, Pipsqueak?”

Well, until you return to your normal reality, it seems like you are stuck here. And Caleb knows you—hell, he’s married to this version of you. And the doctor doesn’t seem to question your relationship either.

You nod. Or try your best to with the stiff muscles in your neck.

It looks like you’ll just have to enjoy being married to a hot guy while you still can. Not that that will be hard. But it seems like everything else in this world will be difficult to deal with...

🍏🍎

You can’t sleep well that night in the hospital. It’s almost funny—it looks like the you of this universe has caught up with her sleep debt from her coma. Instead, you lay on your back on your bed.

Your gaze falls onto the table next to the bed. You spot a phone. Your phone.

Caleb had dropped it off by your side before he had left. “Fully charged,” he had grinned down at you. It seems like you had a phone addiction even here. He looked like he didn’t want to leave, really, but you had squinted at him earlier as he had begun to slide a chair to your bedside and gone: “Have you even changed your clothes since you’ve come here? Slept in a proper bed?” He had shamelessly averted his gaze.

You had shaken your head at him in an almost maternal disappointment and crossed your arms in front of you, grimacing. “Okay, from your uniform, it looks like you’re financially secure. Get a hotel room for the night. Take a shower. Get a change of clothes. And sleep not on the floor with my already small bed as a pillow but on an actual bed with actual pillows and an actual blanket. I don’t want even the idea of a whiff of stinky man near me for the rest of the night.”

He had looked like a kicked puppy then, and you swore you could see drooping ears and a tail on him. And even more so when he had left. He had lingered by the door, staring back at you with pitiful eyes. You had a feeling you would have given in if you looked at him any longer, so instead, you turned so your back was facing him. “Go!” you spoke fiercely. And then your voice softened. “I’ll see you in the morning?”

“I’ll see you in the morning? Good night then, Pipsqueak.” He whispered, gently. And then the door closed.

Hours later, you are still awake, and your phone is taunting you from the bedside table. It looks like an exact carbon copy of your phone back in your universe. It has a cute phone case with little apple designs and an attached wallet where you had tucked in the cards you needed.

You turn it on, and it recognizes your face, letting you in. The search engines look different to the ones in your Universe, but with some exploration, you are able to take yourself to what resembles closest to the search engine you usually used.

You pause before typing in.

Wanderer.

Images of wanderers pop up, and a wiki page categorizing their types is the first link. You squint. Okay, they are scary. And dangerous. But weirdly enough, less scary than the zombies in the tv shows you sometimes watch.

You then try another search.

Hunter.

You see a link to the official Hunters Association page show up. You click on it, and the page opens up to a simple emblem. There’s a description that you quickly read, and then you close out of the page. Next, news articles about the heroic deeds of hunters pop up and you read through them.

A woman in a gray uniform pops up. Jenna, is her name. She looks familiar. Really familiar. Is she your former boss? And then you scroll down even more and even more before stopping when a title popped up out at you, dating three years back.

Meet this year’s newest hunter admits.

You see a picture of you in the crowd. It is you, but it feels different somehow. This you, dressed in what you had identified as the hunter uniform, smiles at the camera with a confident ease. She feels almost alien, even though she wears the same skin as you. Or you’re wearing the same skin as her. You immediately exit the page.

You try one more search.

Waking up in another world with a husband you don’t even know about meaning?

Nothing relevant pops up. Except for some transmigration novels recommendations you spot. Glad to know those exist here too.

 You turn off your phone in defeat and roll onto your side. Staring outside at the sliver of the night sky that your blinds don’t fully cover, you let out a sigh and close your eyes. Maybe when you wake up next, you won’t even need to worry about wanderers and hunters and broad-shouldered men in uniform with puppy-like purple eyes who look at you in ways you can’t really decipher.

🍏🍎

Caleb doesn’t leave your side for the entire week, even though you’re certain from his uniform that he’s definitely in a higher-up position in one of the however many government organizations existing here—Farspace Fleet, you confirm when you eavesdrop on him during one of the many  times he’s in the hallway grumbling on the phone with someone.

It’s almost abnormally normal how much ease you feel letting this random stranger into your life. He knows you—or this version of you—well. Every detail, from the temperature you like in your room to the type of shows that you’d like to watch on the tv to your food dislikes and likes.

When you try to discreetly pick out the veggies you don’t like for a dish, he catches you and insists you finish them. “Just because you don’t like them doesn’t mean you can avoid them. You won’t get all better without them.”

When you pretend not to hear him, he lets out a long sigh and plucks the spoon out of your own hand. “Ahh,” he hums.

You puff out your cheeks, annoyed all of a sudden. “I’m not two-years-old, Caleb. I’ll eat my veggies by myself." When you try to yank the utensil back, he leans back just out of reach.

“Uh-uh,” he tsks, poking at your cheek with a playful smile on his face, “I know what you’ll do. You’ll eat them and then try to spit them out into the napkin when I’m not noticing. Now open up.”

Yikes, how did he know?

Unfortunately for you, Caleb’s grip on the spoon is much stronger than yours, and unless you want to rely on your hands to eat your food, which seems like a bigger pain for the butt, you’ll have to settle on this approach. So you reluctantly oblige. But you notice with a pointed look the small pile of cilantro he has nudged aside on his own plate. He pretends to ignore your look and pokes the spoon to your lips.

Vegetable force-feeder aside, honestly, having Caleb around is almost like having a built-in helper robot, one that is attuned to your every need. Except instead of wires and cold metal, he’s made of hot flesh.

When you go on walks outside, he’s right behind you, watching carefully as if to make sure you won’t fall. He’s a hoverer, that’s for sure.

When you narrow your eyes at him and ask him “Do you even have enough PTO to be lurking around me like this”, he always pretends like he can’t answer the question and shamelessly changes it to a different topic.

The week passes by in a flash, with Caleb showing up the moment the sun rises and leaving back for his hotel late at night. And before you know it, you’ve become used to him. Almost too used to him.

🍏🍎

Caleb shows up early at 7am, even though he had told you the previous night that he’d be here at 8am to pick you up. You had insisted last night that he go home early—9pm sharp, in fact, instead of the usual midnight. He still looks like he hasn’t had enough sleep, and now that you’re less frazzled by your current reality, you can spot the dark circles clearly brimming underneath his eyes. Still, you mentally wolf-whistle, he’s gorgeous.

He’s back in his uniform. And before he comes near you, he tries to subtly sniff himself. Obviously, your comment about stinky men still rings loud and clear in his mind. You feel a bit sorry for him. He didn’t even stink when you had brought it up. In fact, he smelled good still. Annoyingly good.

But here you are, his supposed wife who’s not really his wife but is actually another soul who temporarily slipped into his wife’s body. But you try to assure yourself that hygiene really is the most important thing every human should prioritize.

 “Did you sleep well?” you ask. He peers up at you through his lashes, pitifully, as he helps peel the blanket off of your legs and assists you to your feet before pulling a set of clothes out of his bag. He looks like a kicked dog, and you feel a little bad at how you’ve been pushing him around.

“How can I? I’m used to you being at my side every night. And last night you didn’t even let me stay to my usual hour,” he shrugs. He unfolds the set. It’s a plain baggy t-shirt and some loose pants. When he reaches out as if he’s about to reach for the buttons of your shirt, he hesitates and drops his hands.

“You should get changed.” He takes a few steps back, until his back hits the wall of the room.

You squint at him. “Aren’t you turning your back?”

His face flushes red and then he swiftly turns around. You can see that his ears have turned a bright red. Cute. You laugh to yourself.

But he really is big. There’s not much space, and you have to keep your arms from swinging into him as you take off your pajamas and pull on the change of clothes as swiftly as possible. It’s quiet, the only sound the rustling of your clothes.

When you’re done, you poke your finger into his back. “I’m done.”

He flinches, like he’s been jolted by your touch. He turns around, and you can see that his cheeks are rosy. In the past week you’ve been with him, he hasn’t been this flustered. But maybe it’s because you’ve been in your usual baggy hospital pajamas set and messed up greasy hair. Now, you look refreshed and energized. Like a civilian instead of a sick patient.

Still, as his flush fades and he reaches to adjust the crumpled collar of your shirt, you think to yourself that it’s odd that he looks pretty comfortable touching you but not with the other way around.

You take a step back and almost wobble. It looks like despite all your perceived muscle, laying in a coma for a week without any movement has really weakened you. And your adventures out into the hospital courtyard don’t seem to be serving you that much justice in the physical movement department.

“Whoa!” you gasp out. In a flash, Caleb has swept you up onto his arm so that you’re comfortably nestled in his hold above the ground. He effortlessly holds your bag of items in the other. Unconsciously, you had reached out and wrapped your arms around his shoulders in a panic at your shift in gravity. And by the time you stabilize yourself, he’s already out of the room and in the hallway.

“You know...you’re pretty reliable and everything but uh, next time, give me a heads up?” you see the shocked expressions of the people in the hallway, including a nurse you had become familiar with in the past week, and bury your burning face into his shoulders. You knock your fist against his shoulder when he doesn’t respond, and he just laughs.

“Got it, Captain,” you can almost hear the cheeky grin in his voice, and you whack him again with your fist. But to him, it probably just feels like something barely grazing against him with the way he continues without care.

He eventually sets you down when you make it to the station. Caleb catches your look of confusion, and he provides the name. “Coelum Express. It’s not a long trip.” He then stares at your band-aids peeking out underneath your sleeves. His face twists into a frown. “I’d fly us in if I could, but security’s been tighter because of the frequency of Wanderer attacks lately. If anything starts hurting, let me know.”

You don’t like worrying him. In fact, you never liked worrying anyone. Back in your other world, when you had been sick and about to pass out, it was only your neighbor that took care of you because he had spotted you half-conscious in the stairwell. Other than that, you even refused to let your family know that you weren’t feeling well.

You wonder if a version of him exists here. He had moved in a few years back and rarely spoke to anyone. And he always wore a black mask. You couldn’t really remember if you had ever seen his face, oddly enough, but if he resembled anyone, it would have to be the big puppy of a man next to you.

You realize that Caleb is still looking at you. You shake your head free from your thoughts. “I’ll be fine.”

He doesn’t look convinced.

“Really,” you nudge him. “I’m a grown adult. I can handle myself. And what, it’s only a few hours?”

He reaches out and ruffles your hair. You try to duck and bat away his hands, and when you focus back on him, you can see that the smile on his face is almost rueful. “Even when you forget all about me, you don’t seem to forget that you don’t need me.”

You don’t like how bitter he looks. Something takes over you, and you run a tentative hand across his chest. Your fingers bump the silver chain around his neck—dog tags, with a small apple charm. When U Come Back. Those words sound familiar in your head again. But like with everything else about this world, the moment you try to grab onto it, it’s already dissolved.

“Caleb, I need you,” you whisper before you can stop yourself.

You won’t tell him that you’re a stranger possessing the body of his wife, that the person you are in your other world is someone entirely different from the person he knows here. But it’s true. He’s the only one you know in this unfamiliar world. And you need him.

He’s staring at you in that way again. Like he’s trying to read your mind, while helplessly offering to you something you might want to read from his mind. Vulnerable, in a trance where you’re the person leading him into it and you’re also the only person who can lead him out of it.

And you know he’s seeing someone else through you.

Silver glints in your field of vision again, and you step back. You offer him an awkward smile, averting your gaze. “Come on, let’s not miss the train.”

🍏🍎

The train ride is, as Caleb says, quick. Clouds pass by you in a flash, and you stay with your face pressed up against the glass in aware. The world here, as familiar as it is in some ways, is much more high-tech than yours in other ways. Caleb doesn’t say much to you during the ride. He sits there, watching you.

Before long, the two of you are back at his place. Our place, you correct in your mind. This is the home of Caleb and the version of you that he’s married to.

It’s cozy and decorated exactly to your taste. You can see some peeks of Caleb through it—the airplane diagrams on the wall, the models neatly organized on the black shelves, and some large books with bugs on the front. Everything else though feels familiar and comfortable to you. Like Caleb, this place is catered to your every liking and taste.

He’s setting your bags down behind you as you begin to roam around. You peruse through the framed pictures set around. There’s a picture of you in a pretty white dress smiling at the camera at him. And another of the two of you with your fingers up in peace signs at the camera. You move on from the frames.

“Are you hungry? I can make something for lunch.” He throws the comment at you as you’re burying your head in the pile of throw pillows on the sofa. You peek up at him and nod your head eagerly.

He’s about to leave into the kitchen when you glance at your finger. Your ring finger.

“Hey, Caleb,” you call out. He stops in his tracks. “We’re married right? Where’s my ring?”

You’ve seen the ring on his finger. It’s a silver band with a small airplane embedded on it. And it made sense that the hospital probably took the ring off of your finger after the incident. But Caleb hadn’t even made a mention of it.

You can’t see his face when he responds, his back turned to you. “It’s getting repaired at the shop. It got damaged during the wanderer attack. It’ll be back, good as new.”

You open your mouth, about to ask something else, when the phone in his pocket beeps. Before you can say anything, he’s already turned to give you an apologetic smile as he picks up the phone and heads off into the kitchen.

When he comes out, he’s already heading to a different room. You watch him with curious eyes as he comes out, his hat in his hand.

“Shoot, it’s something urgent at the Fleet.” He walks over to you and reaches down to pat your head. “I’ll order some food to the door, and I’ll be back tonight. If you need me, call me. My number’s in your phone.”

And then he’s gone.

With Caleb away from your side during the day instead of the night, you’re once again left with your thoughts. Here you are, married, in the home of newlyweds, when the you of your world has only had your job to worry about and a practically nonexistent love life to shoo away from your mind.

You flop to your other side, grimacing a bit at the impact. You’re still bruised.

You can hear the faint ticking of a clock, but other than that, there’s nothing to stimulate your mind here. In your boredom, exhaustion creeps up on you and you fall asleep.

Your sleep is restless. You hear a loud screech echo in your ears, your feet are covered in mud as you sprint in the darkness, and you can feel the ground shaking underneath you as something behind you scrambles to catch up to you.

You’re getting tired. You know that you won’t be able to run any further before it catches up to you. And then you’re falling. Tree branches scratch at your body as you sink deeper. And then you’re in a room, confined to a chair.

Someone’s watching you. You can’t see them, but you can hear their soft breathing. You call out, demanding: “Who’s there?”

Footsteps sound in front of you. Your head whips up, and a loud gasp falls from your lips.

“Caleb?”

You jolt awake, your heart racing. A quick glance to the window next to the sofa shows that the sky is already getting dim.

The house is still silent. Caleb’s not back yet.

It isn’t until this realization that you can relax. And you feel guilt prod at you because of it.

Because this is Caleb. Familiar Caleb. Caleb who’s supposed to be your husband and has taken care of your entire need during your recovery. It’s just your mind playing tricks on you. You shake your head and get to your feet.

As you’re about to head to the front door to check on the delivery food you’re certain has already grown cold, you decide to change direction and head towards the bedrooms. It’s not until you’re in the hallway that you spot something small glinting on the floor, right in front of the large wall in the hallway.

It’s a ring. Almost identical to Caleb’s ring except it’s daintier and shaped in a way that it would fit comfortably on yours. Odd, didn’t Caleb say that this was supposed to be at the repair shop? You look closer at it, trying to figure it out even more underneath the dimming light of the setting sun.

And then you notice the faint copper on the silver.

It’s blood.

You glance up at the large wall. You reach out, just about to press your hand firmly against it, when you hear the front door open and a voice ring out.

“Where are you, Pipsqueak? You didn’t eat the delivery food?”

You quickly scoop up the ring and hide it in the pocket of your pants. Getting up, you wander back out into the living room.

Caleb’s back. He looks tired, but when he spots you, relief washes over his expression. And then his expression turns slightly cold. “What have you been doing until now?”

You can feel the weight of the ring in your pocket. But you try to forget about it, not when Caleb seems to have a sixth sense in detecting your lies, and you seem to not have that same sixth sense for detecting his lies. Even now, you can’t tell if he’s hiding something from you. You don’t like to think that he is. After all, he’s the only one you have here that you can trust.

“I fell asleep on the couch, and when I woke up just now, I tried to find the bathroom.” You shrug. “And I got lost.”

He relaxes a little. “It’s in our bedroom. The first door in the hallway. Since you didn’t eat anything today and I didn’t either, I’ll make something. It’s not good to eat delivery food left out after all.”

You nod, almost mindlessly. When you turn to find your way to the bathroom, because really you did have to go use it, you don’t even notice that he’s still standing there, his eyes not leaving you.

A/N: it's been a while since I've written fanfic for any fandom, so I hope it isn't too rusty!! Let me know your thoughts/theories about what's going on with Caleb and why you're in this new world (where's the other you/).

You can also find this published on AO3 as well under my user applesanonymous :) but both shouldddd be published at the same time!

[arinapop]

Reprise

LE SSERAFIM Kazuha x M Reader

Tags: Fluff, Smut

10k words

You’ve always loved the carnival. The yellow lights splash across the land like streaks of fire, growing ever more alluring the closer you get. The Ferris wheel is the first to appear—giant, unmistakable. Then the merry-go-round with the painted horses comes into view. Nearby, a huge tent hides the mirror maze underneath.

When you’re right up there, the stalls selling popcorn and potato snacks pop up, filling the evening air with salt and warmth. Maybe you’re a little too old for most of the rides now, but that doesn’t really matter. It’s about how it makes you feel, right?

You thought you’d noticed all the highlights on your way there. But something still feels just out of sight, like the memory is yet to fully take shape.

Then you see. You’d missed something—no, someone important. She might just be the most important attraction here for you.

You don’t remember her being this beautiful.

Your gaze locks onto Kazuha, wearing a sporty white crop top and a baseball cap. Fits the theme. Her jet-black hair dances in the wind, but never blocks her view as she aims a long air rifle at the board of balloons—a fierce look in her eyes.

And when dawn breaks, she’ll disappear, like the carnival itself. Again.

“Still awful at aiming, huh?” Your voice catches her off-guard as she’s reloading for a second try.

She turns sharply—bullets slip from her fingers and roll towards you. You promptly stop them with your feet. “Careful, butterfingers,” you add as you bend to pick them up.

Her eyes stare at you for a moment, flickering with something unreadable, before going back to the natural cockiness you’ve always seen her sport.

She snatches the bullets out of your palm with a scoff. “Not awful. I was compensating for the wind—it changed direction at the last second.”

“Right,” you reply, amused.

“And someone I haven’t seen in years randomly shows up? I think some shock is warranted.”

She takes another shot. This one almost hits the operator a few feet away from the target.

“You know you’re supposed to hit the balloons, right?” You gesture to the board. “Let me have a try before you end up hitting some poor kid around here.”

Kazuha grits her teeth at that comment. As competitive as ever.

“I’m going for the harder balloons at the back. They keep moving.” She puts all her focus on this shot—posture adjusted, wind analyzed and eyes narrowed.

The bullet flies, and this time, hits her target. The balloon pops with a loud crack, startling some kids nearby.

“Yes!” She punches the air. The operator hands over a big teddy bear to her. Kazuha flips you the finger with a smug smile, hugging the bear to her chest.

“You still have a couple bullets left,” someone reminds her. She reaches for the gun—but before her hand can get close, you quickly pick it up. You point it at the same area she was aiming at and fire off two quick shots in succession. Both hit your target, much to her visible displeasure.

Two plushies for you. You turn towards Kazuha and hold them up in mock triumph, taking in the spite written all over her face. It only makes you feel warmer inside.

“Being the gentleman I am.” You offer her both the bears. “I will let the lady have her prizes.”

She rolls her eyes at that and gives the bears to some kid roaming around. He snatches them from her hands and runs away, without so much as a thank you.

A woman nearby, likely his mother, stops and chides the kid. “Go on, thank the nice lady. You can’t be rude like that.”

“Yeah, thank the nice lady who couldn’t win a single thing till I showed up,” you whisper into Kazuha’s ear. She endures the lecture with a tight, polite smile.

”No, no, it’s completely alright. I know how kids can be sometimes.” She grabs your wrist as an excuse and pulls you away with her.

Soon enough, the pair annoying her disappear from view. ”I hate kids,” she mutters, not realizing she can let go of your wrist now.

“That’s funny.” You let her lead. “Because the last time I saw you, you were one.”

Evening slowly dips into night, and more and more lights are being switched on. Kazuha adjusts her cap, tying her hair back with a rubber band. Her perfectly fitting crop top slides up a little as she raises her arms, revealing more of her toned midriff. But the view is fleeting—her hands drop back down, searching for your wrist before she notices she doesn’t need to hold you anymore.

The smell of burnt sugar and frying oil thickens as more stalls open up. Laughter from kids on nearby rides echoes through the air. You’ve walked these places with Kazuha before. But the way her fingers brush her wrist now—you hope, maybe it was yours she was reaching for.

You get the lightest feeling you're seeing her differently this time.

“Gosh it’s been…” She tries to count the years, but gives up. “Forever. Didn't even know if you were alive. Or if you offed yourself for losing to me in too many games.”

“You could’ve known, you know, if you ever bothered to reach out after disappearing.”

She ignores that comment. You want to press again, but the night is just getting started. Maybe you'll get your answers later. Maybe. But for now, you'll let it slide.

“Speaking of games in which you lose to me—” She stops, revealing where she’s been leading you: a big toy hammer leaning against a massive target, and a tower of numbers climbing all the way up to 1000.

You know you’ve been had.

“Remember this?” she asks with a cheeky grin—planned all along.

“Clear as day.” You deadpan.

“Thought I'd give you one last chance to try and beat me.”

The sting of losing to her all those years ago suddenly feels fresh and piercing. There's no way you're still worse than her at this, right? You are a grown man now, and she’s just a girl.

“Loser has to buy the other marshmallows, same rules,” she continues, sweetly. You curse yourself under your breath. You’ve given her way too much money in this stupid game.

“Fine. Who goes first?” You pick up the hammer, feeling its weight.

”Since it’s already in your hand, I’ll let you go ahead, gentleman.” She hands over some change to the operator nearby.

You cannot let her beat you. Not again. Not this time.

You take two practice swings. Grip firm. Stance solid. Hammer lined up dead-center. This can’t go wrong. On the third swing, you go for it, hitting it hard with a satisfying thump which makes the marker shoot up. It races past the initial numbers, and your heart kicks up with it. Maybe this is it. Maybe this time you finally win.

To your dismay, the pace drops rapidly near the top. 800, 850, 900, and the marker comes to rest at 950. One square away from a 1000.

“Not bad.” She almost seems genuine—then the corners of her lips slowly curl up. “But clearly, there’s room for improvement.”

“Oh, cut it out, Zuha. No way you’re making 1000.”

She doesn’t respond right away, picking up the mallet and trying to block out the crowd noise. Her fingers curl around the handle, and that familiar smirk returns. No practice strikes for Kazuha—she’s going all in. But just as she’s about to bring the hammer down, her foot catches on a rock. The swing goes wide, and the hammer almost slips out of her hand.

You burst into laughter, but she’s unfazed. She takes another swing, making sure her feet are clear this time. The sound the button makes is enough to cut through your laughter and let you know she’s smacked it.

The marker shoots up again, and it’s hard to tell if it’s faster than yours. The pace drops like it did for you: 850, 900, 950—and then it ekes out a slow, grinding climb to a perfect 1000.

Not again.

”Streak still alive. Guess you just lost a strength game to a girl, again.” Not trying to be subtle today.

Her arms don’t look remotely like they pack that much power. They’re long, slender, and smooth—not the kind that throws down 1000s like it’s nothing.

What does she even do to be so strong? Although it’s weirdly attractive in a way you don’t quite know how to explain. You don’t know how to explain a lot of things about her tonight—her eyes sparkle with the reflections of the lights surrounding you, and if you stare into the golden streaks in them long enough, it’s almost enough for you to feel something.

Though that could just be the nostalgia talking, you argue.

You have no choice but to add to the already large amount Kazuha has looted from you in this game.

“The lady in the food stall is still the same.” She dips a marshmallow into the chocolate dip and nibbles on it.

“Maybe she loves—” A running kid bumps into Kazuha, pushing her off balance. Her chocolate spills all over your fingers.

“You little shit!” you shout, but he’s long gone already. You steady her with your clean hand. “You okay? Didn’t knock the wind out of you or anything?”

“No, I’m alright.” She brushes herself off. “Was the same kid from before. I suppose this is what I get for trying to give him some teddy bears.”

“Did earn him a lecture.” You hold up your fingers, showing them coated in her dip. “He made my hand a mess too.”

“Well, can’t let my hard-earned snacks go to waste now.” She pops a marshmallow into her mouth and lifts your fingers to her plush lips. She pauses for a second, then slides them into her mouth, sucking the chocolate off like it’s an everyday occurrence.

In her defense, it could have passed for one. A few years back. But right now, it does not feel so everyday to you. Kazuha’s warmth envelops your fingers, savoring the sweetness from you so casually. You hope she doesn’t catch the flush creeping on your face. She’s quick with it—you’re in public after all, but it’s enough to get your pulse racing. Her tongue slips out to lick the remaining off her lower lip.

“Mouth clean?” she asks.

You wish it weren’t (maybe you could have offered to clean it off).

But it is, and you report that truthfully.

You were staring at her face maybe a bit too long—her delicate lips, fierce dark eyes (soft underneath, you know), strands of hair framing her face like she’s a photograph—a moment to be captured, and it’s long enough for Kazuha to notice. She tilts her head, amusement slipping into her eyes.

”All okay? Did I suddenly turn too beautiful for you to take your eyes off me?”

(You have no idea.)

“What—no, no.” You stumble over your words, eyes darting around for an excuse to change the topic. The gigantic rotating structure right behind her catches your eye.

“I was admiring the Ferris wheel behind you. Brilliant architecture, right?” And if your memory serves you right, this might just prove to be the best excuse.

“It’s alright. What’s so brilliant about it?” You can feel her smug exterior crumbling ever so slightly.

“It’s the biggest attraction here and we should definitely go on it once.” (Second biggest.)

“Nuh uh.” She knows your intentions.

“Oh my, the strong and mighty Nakamura Kazuha still pisses her pants at heights.”

“That happened once,” she protests.

“Do you know what happened every time we went on the wheel? You holding—no, crushing my hands and not letting go no matter how much I cried.”

”That won’t happen again, because we aren’t going on it,” she says with an air of finality.

“Can’t believe you’re still afraid of heights.” You shake your head in disappointment.

“I’m not.”

“Then we’re going on it—right now. Even little Zuha wanted to go on the ride. Every single time. Have you really become more of a coward?”

A long sigh leaves her mouth. She’s conflicted, but you can sense the side you’re rooting for is winning the battle.

“Are you gonna hold my hand again when we get to the top?” you ask, waiting in line after getting the tickets.

“Not a chance,” she retorts.

The queue is short, and your turn comes quickly. Kazuha’s denim shorts ride up her thighs as she sits down, and you try not to stare too long. You take your seat next to her in the cramped cabin. The operator pulls the metal bar down with a clang, locking the two of you in place.

The wheel moves a little, then stops for the next passengers to get in.

“The worst part is the loading, really.” She leans forward a bit to look at how far the ground is from her.

After peeking down, she immediately snaps back in place. “Nope, shouldn’t have let you talk me into this.”

“Hey calm down. Let’s maybe try to talk about something else. What have you been up to? My guess is training to be a professional athlete.”

The wheel is set into motion, and Kazuha breathes again.

“Good guess.” She snorts. “But no. Regular adult life, mostly. Nothing as glamorous as that.”

The wheel stops for the next loading, about halfway up now. You are suspended several dozen feet in the air, feet dangling below. The cart rocks unevenly, making it worse, at times tilting almost perpendicular to the ground. Kazuha’s face is red. She looks like she’s about to throw up.

“Hey, think this is a good time to ask—” She turns to you nervously, voice shaking. ”Are you seeing someone?”

“Not currently, no.”

”So I won’t get jumped by some girl for holding your hand, right?” Her hand slips into yours, palm in palm. She grips you hard—the usual, but you were the one who got her on this time, so you’ll bear it.

“Only if I won’t have to deal with any jealous boyfriends or exes either.” Your other palm moves on top of hers, affirming her grip. She relaxes a little at the touch.

“Boyfriends, no; exes, I’ll trust you to defend yourself if it comes to that.” She rests her head on your shoulder. Her hair falls behind you, brushing softly against the back of your neck.

“Tell me something. If you’re so afraid of heights, why did you want to go on it every time we came here?”

The wheel is moving again, and you’re on the way to the top now.

“Look.” She motions towards what you’re already seeing. The small-town houses look like mere dots across the landscape, none of the buildings tall enough to display any of their features. Rolling green fields surround the town, broken only by the occasional winding road.

Below, the carnival stretches out, cheap decorations and all, but charming in its own right. The striking yellow lights tie it all together. A scene worth the ride.

“I love the view. The town looks absolutely stunning from here.”

“So why'd you just up and leave one day? Seems rather unfair to the town.” (To the town.)

“Because.” She shrugs. “How could anyone be content where they are?”

“Dunno. I could be pretty content staying right here.” You turn, looking into the eyes which effortlessly held your attention the entire evening.

The wheel comes to a slowing halt right at the very top.

“Talking about the view or me?” Her eyes look back at you, pupils dilating in the lush ambient glow around. You could stare into them forever.

“I mean the view—” Your throat tightens. Words stuck in your mouth.

"Is that all you were gonna say?"

“You, you look so beautiful.” You barely manage to get it out.

“Kiss me, then.”

What happens next is a blur. Purely instinctual.

She pulls you in, your lips connecting like opposite poles of a magnet, finally allowed to meet. Your hand wraps around her waist, and her fingers thread through your hair. Her lips are soft and warm—perfect.

There’s still a trace of chocolate from earlier, not that her mouth needs any help being sweet. Her nose brushes slightly against yours, and you keep her lips locked in place, almost like you’re afraid she might disappear again.

A soft whimper leaves your mouth, letting her know how much you’ve wanted this. She tilts your head towards her, finding the perfect angle for you to feel her lips full against yours, her body moving closer. The air between you carries her scent—fresh, floral, sharp.

You wish you could freeze this moment: Kazuha’s lips pressed to yours, the kiss full of everything neither of you could say aloud.

She pulls away for a second, her fingers still tangled in your hair, not willing to let you go. She looks into your eyes, searching for a reaction to what she did.

“Didn’t think I’d ever see you like this,” you murmur.

”Feels right.” Her lips part in a soft smile.

You cup her cheeks and pull her back in, her lips crashing onto yours. You aren’t satisfied with one round. You couldn’t be satisfied with a million rounds.

The wheel is back in motion, the cart rocking gently. Neither of you care. In your world, the two of you are still, existing only for each other.

The night is warm; it’s still summer, but there’s a cool breeze flowing through you now. You’re unsure if it’s because of the ride or the released tension. No—it has to be the kiss. Normal breezes don’t feel this freeing.

The rest of the ride passes in a mix of fervent kisses and dodging onlookers whenever the cart dips too low for comfort. Kissing you seems to work better than any antidote for Kazuha’s acrophobia—you don’t hear another complaint from her. All her attention is on you.

Eventually, the ride slows to a stop. You lend her a hand getting off the cart (though she'll deny ever needing help with that). Palm in hers, barrier lifted.

“Next time, maybe I won't have to fight to get you on this thing?”

“Maybe you will.” She steps out of the cart, getting on the trimmed grass with you.

”I’d do a lot worse things to kiss you like that again.”

The lips you just kissed waver into a smile as she sweeps a few strands of hair out of her eyes.

“Didn’t know you had a flirt in you.”

“You weren’t around for my best years.” The thought reminds you. “You never told me why you left.”

She takes your wrist in her hand and starts walking, going who knows where again. Her eyes drift toward the fields far away, like she could find her answer there if she tried hard enough.

“Not my call, really. Mom wanted a fresh start, I think.” She kicks a stone. It skips past a nearby stall. “Said I'll get more opportunities in a big city. More exposure, yada yada. Probably just excuses.”

Her voice trails off for a second, like she’s holding back the rest. Excuses for what? But instead of continuing, she just keeps walking. You decide to give her space for now.

“So, did you? Got into any new stuff?”

“One or two.” Her gaze drops to her feet.

“Like what?”

“Ballet.”

You break into a smile. “Didn't peg you for a pirouette. All that inhuman strength—and you chose ballet?”

“Shut up. I’m good at it.”

“Yeah, I'm gonna need to see a performance to decide, live.”

She scoffs. “In your dreams.”

The walk keeps going. She pulls you past the stretched-out haunted house and the bumper cars. The carnival music fades, speakers switched off one by one as the night gets deeper.

“Do you have a place in mind, or are you just taking me in circles?”

”We are going somewhere. It’s been waiting since we got here, you’ll see.” She rounds the corner and stops in her tracks. Lifting your hand, she points to the huge tent in front of you. “We're here.”

Mirror maze.

“Why does it feel like you've been calling the shots the whole night and I'm just following you?”

“When have I ever taken a bad decision?”

You don’t even bother with a response, and just look away.

“Come on, you’re really gonna pretend we didn’t have fun here?” Kazuha continues, half-challenging. Truth is, there's a spark in her eyes you'd follow anywhere.

You shrug. “Don’t know. Don’t remember much of this.”

”So the onus is on me to make this memorable for you.” She nods like she’s been expecting this.

“What does that even mean?”

Ignored. You turn to the ticket stand—only to find it shut down.

“Zuha, it’s closed. Guess we’re too late.”

A playful smile creeps on her lips. “Just as planned. Follow me.” She heads to the back of the tent, where there’s no one around. Lifting a loose flap, she pulls you in and lets it fall shut behind you.

Shiny is the first word you’d use to describe the place. Disorienting the second. It feels like you’re in one of those high school physics puzzles: Given k mirrors at various angles, calculate how many images you’ll see. The answer to this one is millions. Millions of yourselves and Kazuhas surround you, some even intersecting at odd angles.

You take a step—only to hit yourself on the head. All the Kazuhas around you grin widely as you rub your forehead.

“Watch and learn,” she says and strides forward. Not an obstacle in her path. Eyes locked ahead, no hesitation, almost like the mirrors themselves part to make way for her.

“Caught that grace? Ballet.”

“If you brought me here just to show off again.” You roll your eyes at her. “I'd rather leave.”

She keeps walking, taking right and left turns at specific spots like she's memorized the entire map. You follow. The way she moves—self-assured, hips swaying ever so lightly—is captivating nonetheless.

Your thoughts spill out before you have a chance to catch them. “Though I’d be content just watching you like this.”

That’s not how you talk to your childhood friend.

A soft laugh slips from her. “I thought you wanted to leave a minute ago. Anyway, I didn’t bring you here to show off. I brought you here to show something, if it still exists…” She taps behind the panel of one of the mirrors. “We're in luck.”

“What the heck are you talking about?”

“Shh.” Her finger brushes your lips—light, deliberate. It lingers there a second longer than it needs to. Your heartbeat stumbles. You want to kiss her fingertips, suck them into your mouth like she did yours, but you don't.

“I know you said you can't recall much. But try jogging your memory, do you remember when we used to play hide-and-seek here?”

You take a look around, and in the reflections, the past becomes clearer. Environmental memory and all.

“Somewhat. Didn’t you always vanish for way too long?”

“Precisely. I'm about to reveal to you where I used to hide.” Kazuha motions with a flair suited for revealing a lifelong secret.

She pulls at a mirror. It gives way to a relatively small space—just enough for the two of you to fit, with a little room to spare. Brown walls, a break from the bright and shine everywhere, make it feel like a private spot made only for you both.

You step in first, Kazuha slips in after you. As she moves past, her chest brushes against your hands—slow, almost like she wants you to touch her. You can hear—no, feel her breathing. Steady. Yours isn’t.

A second later, she's in place. The mirror slides shut behind her, darkness swallowing you both.

“Give it a minute, your eyes will adjust,” she murmurs, her hand settling on your shoulder to steady you. “Unless you’d prefer to feel your way around instead.”

You’re facing each other, backs against opposite walls.

“Is this the first time you’re here with someone?”

She nods. Kazuha’s floral scent hits you stronger now that you’re this close to her. You’re almost scared to breathe her in twice.

Your eyes adjust, just enough to make out her face. You can’t help but admire how gorgeous she is, right there in front of you, even if you can barely see her in the dark.

Almost like she knows what you’re thinking, she stands on her toes to reach a panel behind you. She pushes it open, letting a few rays of light in. They illuminate her face a little, her features even more striking in the dim golden light. The light carves across her cheekbones, emphasizing their sharpness.

And yet, it’s the same Kazuha you’ve seen a million times.

“What if someone sees us?”

“Nobody will. It leads nowhere, I know this maze inside out. We have this place to ourselves.”

Her thighs touch yours as she settles back into place. It’s incredible how sure of herself, confident, she can be even when she can’t see anything. Or maybe it’s because you’re here with her.

“Why are we here?” you ask softly.

“I’m not staying here long.”

Her words land like a stone in your chest. It wasn’t exactly a surprise, you had no idea why she was even here, but it was easy to get lost in the memories with her and pretend this was permanent.

It’s not though, and her words remind you—maybe both, that this night is fleeting. You need to make it count.

She brushes the back of your neck. The warmth of her body is comforting, even in the summer, heating you up. The silence hanging tells you exactly what you have to do.

You cup her cheek and pull her in, lips meeting yours. You slip a hand around her waist, impossibly slender against you. Maybe there was truth to her claims on grace after all.

Her fingers are tangled in your hair again, messier this time—like she wants to show you exactly how much she wants this. Wants you. She pauses for a second, her lips grazing your ear, breath hot on you.

“And when I said you can feel your way around,” Kazuha whispers. “I meant my body too.”

You don’t move at first.

Not because you don’t want to—God, you do—but because this version of her, the one offering herself to you in the dark, feels almost too surreal to touch. Like one wrong move and she’ll vanish. Disappear into thin air. Again.

“You okay?”

You nod. “I just... I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

Her fingers find your chin. She tilts it toward her. “I’m here now. So touch me.”

Your hands trace the outline of her figure. You've touched her before—games, scrapes, fights—but never like this. Never with intentions like this. You slide down the curve of her back, her skin damp from the heat, before finally resting on her ass.

Your fingers hang there awkwardly—hesitant, unsure what to do. Kazuha notices. She places her free hand on yours, guiding, and presses your hand into the soft curve of her ass. It’s plump, yielding, and fits perfectly in your palm.

“Feels good?” she asks, voice low.

“Mhm,” you breathe.

Satisfied, her lips return to yours. You squeeze her ass cheeks again. A soft moan escapes her, caught by your mouth before it can go anywhere else.

The tip of your tongue grazes her lips, asking for entry. And her lips part willingly. Your tongue slides against Kazuha’s in her mouth—hungry, slick, and deep.

For once in her life, she’s happy to lose to you. Her tongue submits to yours, letting you savor her mouth at your own pace.

Her hand drifts down, fingers tracing the outline of your hardness, already heavy against your pants. She cups it with her palm, groping, gently stroking through the cloth. It only makes you harder. Throbbing. And a grunt slips out at how she's touching you.

She tugs at your pants, asking for more. You grab her wrist and lift it away.

“My turn.”

Her brow lifts slightly, but the corners of her mouth curl in approval. “Someone’s feeling bold tonight.”

You sink to your knees, planting kisses on the abs you've seen all night, but never really admired how fit they are. Tight, slim, built to be shown off, worshipped. And worship them you will, tasting her skin with your tongue, licking across her midriff. Her skin has a hint of salt, sweat glistening under the light, but she still manages to taste sweet.

“Can we at least take my shorts off?” she huffs.

You look up, meeting her eyes. “We've got all night.”

Still, you decide not to torture her further. You unzip her denim shorts and slide it down in one fluid motion. Her black panties greet you, fabric stretched over the shape of her lips, outline clear. You only need one touch to feel how drenched she is, and it’s immediately clear why she needed them off.

Her inner thighs are a creamy, milky white, tempting you to taste more of her. You start with kisses, then drag your tongue slowly over her soft skin. Her flavor is stronger on her thighs, more intense, addicting. You can't get enough.

Her muscles tense beneath your tongue, and Kazuha's fingers weave into your hair. Every flick of your tongue leaves her trembling, you're getting closer, but never close enough. She shifts her body, trying to press down on you, wanting something you won't quite give her.

It’s not like her to beg for anything. You’d probably laugh if someone told you she ever did. But now, for the first time, you hear her beg. Kazuha herself, whispering for release.

“Please.”

Your hands reach behind her and pull her panties down. Her pussy presents itself for you—bare, pink folds slick with a mix of sweat and arousal. Your tongue finishes its ascent, giving her core a long, slow lick. She whimpers, so satisfied. She’s warm, the heat on your tongue telling you just how much she’s been holding back.

Her grip tightens in your hair, urging you closer.

But you tease her instead, giving slow, deliberate licks—agonizingly gentle. You love how each moan slips out in rhythm with your touch, music only you get to hear.

“Someone might hear us,” you murmur, fully aware you’re the reason they might.

“Fuck,” she hisses. “Let them, then. Feels too—fuck, good.”

She gets wetter with every lick, your saliva mixing with her arousal, coating her pussy in a translucent mess. Some of her sweet nectar trickles into your mouth, and you savor every drop. Your hands wander to her ass, groping handfuls of her flesh, driving her further, closer, deeper into ecstasy.

“Clit too, please.”

You wrap your lips around her clit, one swirl of your tongue, and she’s squirming. Kazuha arches her back, trying to push herself further against your tongue, wanting all of you on her.

You pick up the rhythm, quick swipes of your tongue at her clit, and she melts into a moaning mess. Her hands clutch locks of your hair, not daring to let you go.

“Had no idea you were so fucking good at this.”

Her thighs lock on either side of your head, pushing you further and further into her heat. You can barely inhale anything but her pussy now—her sweat, slick, lust for you. You wouldn’t have it any other way. The more frantic her hands grow in your hair, the more you reward her with your mouth.

And it’s no surprise she’s already getting close. She grinds her pussy on your tongue, chasing her release. Her knees go weak, and her fingers dig deeper into your scalp, as if needing you just to stand upright. You press her further against the wall, steadying her.

Her wetness is all over herself, thighs, abs, pussy, coated in her own desire. Her moans take over the entire room—someone’s definitely hearing, and she couldn’t care less.

She’s screaming all sorts of things, your name included, and it’s the first time you’re hearing it in this flavor out of her mouth. You could get used to it.

As she finishes, a gush of juices flows into your mouth, and everywhere else. Your cheeks, lips, and neck are all a mess. Kazuha’s slick is all over you, and you could stay like this forever. (Not literally forever—good thing she always carries tissues)

“Maybe I did miss out on a few things,” she says between heavy breaths.

You look at her with an expression that says, I told you so.

You climb up and kiss her lips, offering her a sample of her own juices. Her tongue slips out to swipe at your mouth, tasting the mix of her slick and your spit, and she laps it up into her own. She lets you go once she’s satisfied.

“Not bad. Been a while since I’ve tasted myself.”

“You're kidding right? You taste incredible.” You wipe some off your mouth.

“Since when do you shower me with praise like this? Maybe I should disappear more often.”

She rests for a good few minutes, catching her breath. Once she's steady, her hand slides down to your pants once again, finding your cock pressing through it. “Can I have my turn now, Mr. Decision Taker?”

“Sure, but I don't see how anything can match up to the performance I just gave.”

“Ooh, shouldn't have gone there,” she purrs, dropping on her knees in front of you. Your pants are tugged down quickly, your hardness even more obvious on your underwear. “You have no idea what you started.”

“Or maybe I know exactly what I'm doing.” You grin, hand slipping through Kazuha's hair.

There’s no hesitation in her grip as she fondles your boner through the cloth, trying to familiarize herself with the shape before she even sees it.

“Brat…” She rolls her eyes as her fingers tighten on you.

“Just the way you like it.”

She slips her hands into your underwear and pulls your cock out. You’ve known those eyes your whole life—seen them light up over dumb jokes and game nights—but now, they’re locked on your cock like it’s the only thing that matters.

“Someone must have been feeling a little… constrained.” She runs her fingertips along your length, barely brushing. Every touch sends sparks dancing across your skin.

She glances up, catching the way you squirm. “Two can play at the teasing game.”

Your cock is throbbing, twitching for anything more than the ghost of her touch. Your thighs tense without permission, breath catching—shallow, uneven. You want to grab her hand, make her finish what she started. But you also want to stay still, because somehow the way she looks up at you, barely touching, is better than anything else could be.

Once she decides she’s done playing, she wraps her palm around you, slow strokes gliding up and down your length. You let go of a soft moan, ”Zuha…”

Her eyes meet yours and she strokes you firmer now, steadier. “I like hearing you say my name like that.”

“Keep going and you’ll be hearing it a lot more.”

She brings in her mouth close to your tip, tongue about to slip out—

—instead, a hot breath rolls over your skin. It hits you like lightning. Your cock pulses harder than before.

“Oops. That wasn’t intentional.” The smile tugging at her lips says otherwise. Her hand rubs gently over your tip, like nursing an injury. She holds your base firmer, leans in near your tip again—breath careful this time—and kisses it. Another, then another, and plants a line of kisses to your base.

Finally, her tongue slips out, and she licks you all the way back to the tip.

Kazuha gives you a few more licks, slow and deliberate, making sure not a single spot is untouched. Your cock is lathered with her spit, giving it a glossy finish.

“You taste good.” Her eyes glint up at you. “Could suck on this all night.”

You’re already getting weak for her. “Not sure I can last that long. But we’ll try.”

One of her hands drifts down to your balls, massaging you gently. Suddenly, she squeezes too hard.

“Ah—careful,” you wince, hips pulling back instinctively.

She lets go instantly. “Fuck, I’m sorry. Was that too hard?”

You nod.

“Should I stop with my hands?” A flush spreads over her cheeks, as if she’s second-guessing herself. Doesn’t happen often.

“Hey, it’s okay.” You stroke her hair, trying to soothe her. “I know you didn’t mean to. You can still do it if you like, just be a little gentle. They’re sensitive.”

“Okay, I'll be careful.” Her hands return to your balls, fondling with a calculated care.

“You look cute when you’re flustered.” You cup her face with one hand. “Don't think I've ever seen you like this.”

Her cheeks only flush a deeper red at that comment. She tries to ignore it and focuses her energy on your cock instead, trying to wipe that smile off your face.

Her hand spreads the slick mess all over your shaft. Your fingers dig deeper into her hair, urging her to take you in—and to your surprise, her lips immediately part open. Guilt always did make her more agreeable. Her hands rest on your thighs, steadying herself, breath hot against you.

Then she takes you into her mouth.

She’s soft. So warm. Incredibly wet. Her mouth wraps tight around you, tongue flat underneath, her spit making you slick as she slides deeper. Her cheeks hollow—sucking hard enough to pull a sharp gasp out of you. You twitch inside her mouth, and that is all the encouragement she needs to keep going.

Her tongue swirls around your cock, slurping loudly as she sucks, like she’s convinced it’s the best thing she’s ever tasted.

She keeps you there for a while, her eyes gripped on yours, watching them roll back deeper with every passing second. Drool slips from her tongue, soaking your cock until it runs down and lands on her own midriff.

“Your mouth feels unreal.” It takes effort to even pronounce words. “Zuha.“ More moans of her name, as promised. You see the glimmer in her eyes every time you say it.

She slides you deeper into her throat, her lips brushing against your waist. Her throat constricts around you—so fucking tight. Kazuha’s making the dirtiest noises you’ve ever heard.

And when she finally can't take it—she pulls back. Her face is a mess. Strands of her spit glide from her lips to your cock. It almost feels wrong to see Kazuha like this, but then why does it feel so fucking good?

She steadies herself with a breath, then plants kisses down your length, getting ready to take you back into her mouth. You brush a few strands of hair out of her face and lock them in your hand, still gripping her hair. Her lips envelop your length again, the sensation drawing a grunt out of you.

Her mouth bobs up and down on you, taking you deeper with every round. Your knees go weak, and you look around for something to hold onto—but nothing.

“Is it okay if I hold your hair tighter?”

She nods, unbothered, and barely reacts when you tighten your grip on her hair like your life depends on it—focused on worshipping your cock. If anything, she takes it as a sign to go harder. Her mouth moves faster on you, suction tighter than ever.

The wet, slick sounds of her lips on your shaft are somehow louder than your moans.

Her lips release you with a pop, and her hand takes over—lips kissing your tip as her grip tightens, almost possessive of you. She strokes you, steady and firm, and for once, your moans rise louder than the obscene sounds she makes. The sensation makes your back arch, every movement pushing you closer to release.

“It’s okay, you can cum on me.” Her hand keeps working you, milking you for all you’re worth, her face right below your tip.

And then you let go. Thick ropes shoot out of you, landing across Kazuha’s face—forehead, cheeks, chin, and some in her mouth as well.

A few drops drip down to her chest and midriff. She’s a total fucking mess for you—and somehow still manages to look like the prettiest woman you’ve ever seen.

“So, not matching up to your performance is out of the question.” She swipes a streak from her cheeks and licks it off her fingers.

You struggle to form a response. It takes a while before you can say, “Ouch. And here I thought you were doing all this because you were into me.”

“Of course I am, you dork.” She gestures to the sticky trails from her hair down to her body, like that alone should be proof. “And I pull off this look too, by the way.”

“Sure you do. Thank God you always carry tissues though.”

“Yeah, God,” she mutters, already digging through her bag—only to come up empty-handed. “Not this time.”

”What the fuck? We are not going out like this.”

”Yeah, I gathered.” She lets out a quiet breath while she takes one last look in her bag. “I can’t walk out covered in cum and spit. You’re gonna have to go grab napkins for me.”

”Your juices are all over me as well, ma’am.”

“All this is definitely worse. So you are going.” Her tone leaves no room for argument.

You stand there, staring at her, she is right. There’s no way she's stepping outside like that. Which means it's on you to dodge a dozen eyes and sneak your way to a food stall for napkins.

She looks at you, eyes glinting, lips pursed like she’s trying to suppress a smile.

”Not funny, Zuha.”

She shrugs. “A little funny.”

The packet finally comes out from her bag, and right when you’re about to grab it—it slips from her hands.

“Jesus. At this rate I might have to actually go out like this.”

She picks it up and offers one to you. “If I were you, I’d be thankful someone actually brought tissues.”

You grab it and start wiping yourself off. “We should take this someplace a little more… intimate. No point taking risks like this again.”

“That, I agree. But where?” She's dabbing at her face too. These are the wet deep-cleanse ones. Should do the trick.

”Same as usual, my place? Nobody’s home—whole reason I came here.”

“Works.”

—

“So what did you use to do there before you, you know, had a guy to play around with?” You plop on the couch beside her, packet of cookies in hand. The air conditioner drones in the background, a welcome break from the heat outside.

“Play with myself,” she says casually, grabbing a cookie.

You turn to her, brows lifted. “Excuse me?”

“Not like that, dumbass,” she shoots back. “I meant doodle, sing songs, dance.”

You flip through TV channels, stopping on some old sitcom. “Prefer my company to that?”

“It’s close, but I’d say so.”

“Ever think about what life would’ve been like if you’d stuck around?”

“Sometimes.” She pulls at the strap of her top, then lets it snap back.

“Maybe we wouldn't have had to wait so many years for something between us.”

“Or maybe things would have never gone this way.” She leans back on the couch. “We were around each other all the time back then. And still—nothing.” Her eyes drill into the ceiling.

The TV screen flickers, static crackling from the speakers.

“Does that sometimes. Let me go check the connection.” You head behind the TV stand, feeling for the loose wire. You crouch down, out of her line of sight.

“Did you miss me?” Her voice is quiet, distant, like she’s not sure she wants the answer.

You don’t reply right away, spending a few seconds fiddling with wires that aren’t even loose.

“Sometimes. Like when I got sick, I half expected you to show up with juice and stupid movies again.”

Silence stretches between you.

“I’m sorry. I fucked up.”

You get up and walk back to the couch. “I never understood why you ghosted. Just had to make peace with it—no other option.”

“You really wanna get into all that?”

“Of course I do, Zuha. We were best friends for a decade. Whatever this is now, barely a night. I still care about you. That’s the issue, really.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She lets out a long sigh.

“Life got… weird when I moved. My new school was awful. I tried. But people either acted off or pretended I didn't exist, so I just stopped”

She shifts in her seat, adjusting her posture.

“And home wasn’t much better. Dad rarely visited, guess that was always the plan. Everything sucked. I wanted to text you—God, so many times. I’d open our chat and just sit there like an idiot.” Her fingers tug at a thread on the couch, eyes somewhere else.

“I couldn't. I was scared. Scared you'd moved on. Scared I'd look pathetic like that.

I wish I did though. Tonight… felt easy. Felt right.”

She meets your eyes now. “And more importantly, it was fucking unfair to you. I'm so sorry.”

Her words hang in the air, heavy.

“Hey… that sounds rough. Must have been hard to reach out with all of that going on. I had a sense things weren't great with your parents but not the full extent.” You pull her head to your chest. “I’m glad you told me though. Are things better now?”

She nods. “Yeah, I’m alright now. I still think about you from time to time, but it felt like the door had closed by then.”

She stretches her legs, resting her head higher up your chest. “Shit, we've been talking all about myself. What about you? How’s life been?” Her eyes glance up at yours.

“Nothing that dramatic.” You chuckle. “Stayed at the same school. Then college. Got an internship starting soon, offer came through just a few days back.”

“Wow. Someone’s been busy winning.” Her voice softens. “I’m proud of you. If we’d still been in touch… I probably would’ve been the first person you told.”

“Nah, you never were.”

“Shut up, I so was.” Her palm covers your mouth. “You came running to me to celebrate after placing second in a sack race.”

“Hey, it was a highly competitive—” You fight to lift her hand off. “—race. Millions would’ve killed to get on the stage and collect that medal.”

”Sure.” She laughs—the sound so sweet to you. Infectious. You can’t help but join in.

Both of you sit there for a second, smiling, catching your breath. It's easy like this. Familiar.

You nod toward your bedroom. “I suppose we should be making up for the missed movie nights.”

“You wanna watch something or just sleep with me?” She grabs your wrist, tugging you along.

“Wow, that reminds me. One of those sleepovers, you fell asleep first, as usual, on me and I had the most confused boner ever.” You pause. “Maybe I shouldn't have said that out loud.”

“Were always into me, huh?” She looks back over her shoulder at you.

Your memories tug at you, almost like they're trying to say something. “I'm not sure. Which is what made it weird.” Her step slows a little.

“What’d you do?”

”What could I do? I waited till it went away, then went to sleep.” You reach the bedroom and shut the door behind you. “Can't believe our parents never suspected anything, with how close we were. Not that we ever crossed the line back then, but still.”

Kazuha gets on the bed with you, pulling the blanket over you both. “My mom did. She had the same two lines every time I left the house—‘Tell your boyfriend I said hi,’ or, ‘Have fun on the date.’”

“Boyfriend, huh?” Your lips twitch into a smile. “How come I never heard about this?”

“Because I told her if she ever called you that in front of you, it'd be the last day she saw me.”

“Sounds about right. Didn’t she question your tragic outfit choices for a ‘date’ though?” You pull up Netflix, and hand her the remote. “Your pick for the night.”

She scrolls through the options. “You want me in some short little dress or what?” Her nose scrunches just at the idea.

“Obviously. Don’t you do ballet anyway?”

“Performing’s different. I’d probably cancel the date if I had to wear one outside.” She eyes your watch history. “What kind of trash do you watch?”

You sit up, facing her. “Let’s up the stakes of our next hammer game—marshmallows are boring. If I win, you’ll wear a dress on our date.”

“And if I win, the dress goes on you?”

You stare at her, deadpan.

“Kidding.” Her hand reaches for yours, intertwining fingers. “And you're never winning against me. So if you really wanna see me in a red dress, choose a different bet.“

“Why red specifically? Maybe I’d rather see you in green.”

”Wasn’t red your favorite color?” She finally settles on a cheesy romcom.

“Didn’t know favorite colors are still a thing after you grow up.” The movie begins—opens on a girl monologuing that she’ll never settle down. “Wow. You called my taste bad, and now we’re watching someone explain why love isn’t for them for the hundredth time?”

“Best I could salvage from your recommendations list. And hey, fits the mood at least.” She slides her fingers up your arm, and they settle on your shoulder.

“And what kind of mood would that be?”

Her grip tightens on your shoulder as she leans in. “It’ll take her the whole movie to realize that love is, in fact, for her.” Her hair hangs dangerously close to your face, brushing your cheek. “We can skip to the ending.”

You breathe her in. “Why does your hair smell so good? What's that scent?”

“Same shampoo I've always used.”

“No way. Didn't smell like this before.”

She laughs. “Maybe you had rocks for a nose back then.” She moves even closer, and you can feel her breath, hot against you. “You smell it better now?”

“Mhm,” you murmur, moving in to kiss her neck. Kazuha wraps her arm around your waist. A low moan slips from her lips as you leave a trail of soft pecks down her neck. She tilts her head back, letting you find the curve of her neck better. You keep kissing her—until a crop top interrupts your descent.

“Want it off?”

You nod and help her lift it off. You continue your path, lips brushing on her collarbone. Your hand finds her chest, cupping her breast through her bra. Her breath hitches. Her soft sounds grow louder at how you’re touching her.

She lets her hands wander down your body, feeling your hardness poking through your pants. “Already hungry for more?” Her fingers grazing you like that don't help at all.

“Hungry for you, Zuha.” It feels so good to tell her that. Your lips find her cleavage, kissing at the tiny bits peeking out from her bra. The chatter of the movie—the female lead’s friends urging her to text someone—fades into the background, replaced by the sounds Kazuha makes just for you.

Your hands reach behind and unhook her bra, freeing her tits. Her breasts are soft and creamy, perfectly shaped for your hands and mouth. You taste them—tongue gliding over her sensitive skin.

Her nipples are already taut, and you take one into your mouth, savoring the texture of her arousal. Her hand tangles in your hair. She’s not willing to risk letting you go.

You feel her other breast with your hand, taking her in your palm and gently squeezing—more moans for you. She leans back, pushing more of her flesh into your mouth, urging you to have more of her.

You take your time with her. Quick swipes of your tongue, gentle sucks on her nipples, your hands massaging her tits, and with every motion, soft sighs slip from Kazuha’s mouth.

“Figured you’d be thorough with this too” She lets out a breathy laugh. You can feel her body getting hotter—and one slip of your hand beneath her shorts confirms what you were thinking—she’s soaked. You gently push her onto her back, climbing over her.

“These aren’t needed.” One swift motion—and her shorts are off and on the bed. Her juices are already soaking through her panties, leaving damp spots on the sheets.  You kiss your way downwards, moving to her abs—before she stops you, clutching your shirt.

“Can we please take this off too?” she asks.

“You’re so adorable being polite during sex, you know?”

She smacks your shoulder—

—”Ow, that hurt.”

“Yeah, kind of the point. Now shut up and get naked with me.”

“What's wrong with me finding you cute like that?” You shrug and let her help you take your shirt off.

She shifts her gaze. “I don't know. That's not… our thing.”

“Going down on each other wasn't our thing till tonight. Didn’t stop us.”

“Good point. But that doesn't mean everything will change overnight.” She drags a line down from your chest—coming to a stop at your waist. “Do your pants need a separate invitation?”

You take off your pants and underwear, and she’s wrapping her hand around you again. She grips you tight, stroking your length.

“I want you in me.” Her hand glides naturally on your cock this time, like she knows exactly how to please you best.

“Come here.” You help her get her panties off, her hand not letting go of you—almost like you’d disappear if she did. You stare at her beautiful bare folds, coated in her translucent arousal, aching for you.

Kazuha’s hair is spread across the pillow, framing her face, almost angelic. She breathes short, needy gasps; even having your cock close to her core is too much for her. You line up your tip against her lips, her heat brushing against you. Every graze sends sparks flying through both of you.

Her hands come up to your face and tilt it toward her. “Look at me, please,” she whispers.

You meet her gaze as you slide inside her. Your cock is immediately wrapped in her warmth, drowning in her wetness. “Fuck,” she hisses. Her walls clench down on you, gripping you tight, almost making you lose control.

“Zuha, you feel amazing.”

Her lips twitch into a smile. You can tell she needed that. You want to throw in another unnecessary quip but you decide against it—enough smacks for the night. Her walls stretch around you as you go deeper, adjusting for your thickness. Your hips meet finally, your cock fully enveloped by Kazuha’s warmth.

“Go ahead,” she sighs, arching her back slightly to give you a better angle. Her juices spill all over your cock. “Give it to me.”

You start slow, drawing your hips back leisurely. Her eyes flicker—caught between wanting to shut them and savor the feeling, and keeping eye contact with you.

“Ah!” She parts her lips when you thrust back into her wetness. Your fingers roam her body—the curves of her chest, the tightness of her abs, the softness of her thighs. A satisfied smile tugs at the corner of her mouth.

Your hand comes to rest on her hip, gripping her to steady yourself. You find your rhythm, your cock disappearing into her with every slow, deliberate thrust.

Your fingers press deep into her as you build momentum, little by little. You take a quick look at her reaction to make sure it doesn’t hurt her—all clear. If anything, the lip bite says she likes how possessive you’re being with her.

Each time you push into her, she lets out a louder moan—soft, breathless gasps spilling into the space between you. Her cheeks flush, teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she gives herself over completely. God, you could watch her face look like this forever.

It’s mesmerizing, really, how easily you can push her into the depths of ecstasy.

One of her hands grips your waist, grounding herself against you as she basks in the feeling of you fucking her.

“Fuck, just like that,” she squeals. “Just like that, sweetheart.” Sweetheart. The last word comes out somewhat awkwardly, but with how much of a moaning mess she is, it’s hard to tell. “Feels so good. Please, don’t stop,” she gasps, her perfect tits bouncing with every thrust.

“Not—” You grunt, hips rocking into her. “—planning to. You feel so—fuck—fucking good, Zuha.”

She fights to keep control of herself—loses. Her back arches, then sinks deeper into the bed, eyes closed shut as she melts into you. Her legs hook behind your back, thighs tightening around your waist, locking you in. Kazuha surrounds your entirety.

“I’m gonna cum.” Her mouth cups into an ‘o’, her body trembling as the pleasure crashes through her. You already know: It’s an image that’s not leaving your mind so easily.

One of the (several) things you’re getting to know about Kazuha tonight is that when she cums, she leaks like a waterfall.

Her juices gush all over your cock, somehow drenching it even more than before. Her body first tenses around you, then she quivers in pleasure, trembling. Her eyes flutter open to meet yours.

“Are you close too?” she asks. You nod in response. If you weren’t already—the sight you just saw was enough to nearly push you over.

“Keep going, feels so good.” She drapes an arm around your neck—the motion almost too much for her spent body. “Kiss me, please.” You lean in close to her, Kazuha exhales softly when your lips touch.

The kiss is lazy, lingering, a complete contrast to the rhythm of your thrusts down below. You pull back just enough to ask, “Zuha, where should I—uh, cum?”

Her brow furrows briefly. “Wherever you want… but I wanna feel all of you in me.”

“That’s what I want too.” You drive into her with a few final pumps—climax fast approaching.

“Cum in me, sweetheart,” she whispers against your ear. Your lips go back where they belong—pressed firmly to hers.  Thick streams pour into her. Her soft, drenched pussy pulls you in, clenching tight around you.

“Give it all to me,” she breathes. “Every single drop.” You keep pulsing inside her, each spasm dragging more of you out. She takes it so well, her body milking you dry like her words promised.

You slowly pull out of her, your cock slipping from her soaked core. Your release drips out of her, trailing down her thighs. You collapse beside her, every muscle sore. Kazuha clutches the sheets, still breathing hard next to you.

"That was nice," she sighs.

"Nice sounds like a participation award."

"Fine, it was fucking amazing."

“I hope you mean that." You drape an arm around her shoulder. "Wanna go sit on the fields later? Big cities just don’t have skies like these.”

“Yeah. Been so long since I’ve properly seen stars.” Her head rests on yours.

“Can’t say the same, seeing one right next to me.”

“Gosh, enough flirting for the night, Romeo.” The way her cheeks turn red disagrees with her words. “Starting to miss the days when you’d just call me names all day.”

“Who says I can’t do both, loser.”

“There we go. Much better.”

“Besides, you were the one who called me sweetheart earlier.”

“Never happened. Oh, and we don’t have to leave right away, right?”

“No.”

“Good. I wanna rest here for a while.” She snuggles up to you and shuts her eyes.

—

You lie down on the damp grass, the air cool this late at night. The blades are soft but cling to your skin, carrying a faint earthy scent.

Kazuha settles beside you. The sky above is wide and clear, scattered with stars. In the distance, the Ferris wheel still glows in yellow.

Balloons are being popped, stalls shuttered. Leftover food dumped into buckets. The painted horses are lifted from the merry-go-round, loaded piece by piece into trucks. Teddy bears crammed into plastic covers. The tents are gone—replaced by bare ground with nothing to offer.

“Sweet spot to light one.” She flicks a stray blade of grass at you.

“You smoke?”

Her shoulders rise in a shrug. “You heard my whole story. What do you think?”

“Thought that was just a TV trope. Guess not.”

The wheel lights glow brighter with every minute, while the rest of the carnival dims.

“Would be cool if the carnival lasted all year.” She exhales, like she knows it's wishful thinking.

“Don't know if it'd feel the same. But still, does feel weird watching it get packed up like this—like seeing a school after hours. Or an empty mall.” You wrap a strand of her hair around your finger.

“Liminal space,” she says.

“Hm?”

“Places of transition—or something like that. Exactly what you said. Felt the same to me when I saw it from the train window. The first time I was leaving town.”

The quiet stretches between you. A faint pop echoes, cutting through the silence—maybe another balloon meeting its end. The carnival getting taken apart suddenly feels like the only thing worth seeing.

“So…” You clear your throat. “You’re leaving tomorrow?”

She tilts her head up, like she’s just noticed the stars. “I lied about something.”

“Wait—you're staying?”

“No. I’ve got a ticket.”

Something in your chest crumples, slow and painful. “What is it?”

“About why I always wanted to go on the ride with you, even when I was scared of it as a kid. The view was nice and all, but I never got the appeal.”

“Then why?”

“You liked it. I wanted to confess to you at the top.” She draws her knees up, curling into the thought. “Cheesy, I know. But I saw how your eyes lit up at the view. I wanted some part in that.”

She pauses, then adds, “And felt nice to have an excuse to hold your hand.”

It takes a few seconds to respond with a question that only sounds smaller out loud. “Why didn’t you—you never told me.”

“Chickened out every time. It hurt, not being able to tell you. Whenever you smiled at me there, it felt like I was drowning. And when I was leaving the last day…” She takes a long breath.

There’s a heavy thud of something getting thrown in a truck.

“But I could never risk what we had—could never risk hearing that you didn’t love me back.”

“You don’t need to worry about that.” You say it with such conviction that it silences whatever doubts were still in her eyes.

“The second I saw you here today, knew I had to take my chance. Wasn’t getting yet another one.”

“Guess you took it.”

She shifts slightly, turning towards you. The grass rustles beneath her. “What I’m trying to say is, yes, I have a train to catch. But no, I’m not disappearing again. Not without you.”

Her words echo in your ears. They settle somewhere deep in your chest, humming.

All those nights you spent wondering why she stopped replying. Why she left without a word. Wondering if you were the reason she never looked back.

“So, what—I just drop everything and follow you?” The words come out uneven, rougher than you expected.

“No, but that doesn’t mean this has to end here either.” Her voice wavers, choking in her throat. “That doesn't mean I can't still have you in my life, right?”

Something in her tone sounds different this time. Like she’s scared to lose you too.

“True.” A soft gust of wind ruffles her hair across your cheek. “Suppose our date with you in a red dress will have to wait.” (But not forever, right?)

For the first time in all the years you’ve known her, you see her eyes pool. They shine—stars caught beneath the tears. One drop falls onto your shirt, sinks through the fabric, straight into your skin. Burning.

Her hand finds yours and squeezes, probably harder than she means to—as always. She whispers, “I’ll wait for it.”

The Ferris wheel flickers once, then goes dark.

—

[cherrygirlfriend]

── LITTLE SURPRISE 🍓

...or mother's day with your husband.

🍓 pairing: farmer!rafe x farmer’s wife!reader

🍓 summary: how farmer!rafe and reader’s first child came to be.

🍓 warnings / tags: fluff, smut, unprotected piv, MDNI! WC: 1k

🍓 author's note: how farmer!rafe and his wife ended up having their first child!! thanks to mother’s day.

FARMER'S WIFE MASTERLIST RAFE MASTERLIST

you woke up to the feeling of rafe's lips pressing kisses on the back of your neck, causing the hairs there to rise as you let out a quiet gasp, still half-asleep. your husband hummed out a deep chuckle as his lips attached themselves onto the smooth skin on your shoulder, biting and sucking on it.

"mmm, rafe, we're not teenagers 'nymore, hickies are tacky..." you mumbled, your voice still laced with sleep as you turned around in his arms to face him, looking at him with half-lidded eyes, "what're you starin' at, cowboy?"

"i got you something." rafe grinned, sitting up in bed, and you were sure rafe stretched his muscular abs on purpose while he was reaching for something from the nightstand, pulling the top drawer open and swiftly closing it, before he sat back up and handed you an envelope, "what's this?" you asked in amusement, "open it and see."

you rolled your eyes, ripping the top part of the envelope open. inside, there was a... card of some kind. you pulled it out, your brows furrowing when you read the text on it.

happy mother's day!

"rafe, do you have something to tell me?" you asked with a humored chuckle, "because last time i checked, we don't have kids, and i'm not pregnant."

before you were able to react, rafe grabbed the card and the envelope, throwing them onto the ground before picking you up by your waist with such ease it made you squeal, and forcing you to straddle his lap, "not yet." he said in a gruff voice, his hand sliding up your thigh as he looked up into your eyes, "but i think i can change that."

the oversized shirt that you wore to sleep was pushed up to reveal your tits, one of the hardened buds sucked into rafe's mouth as his hips rocked into you, a gasp falling from your lips with every thrust as you threw your head back in a bliss.

your hands were tangled in his hair, tugging on the strands as if trying to get him to speed up, to be less gentle with you, while your husband simply chuckled against your sensitive nipple, causing shivers to run down your spine. "use your words, sweetie..." rafe mumbled, detaching his mouth from your nipple, pressing a kiss on the sensitive bud, "poor girl... so sensitive..." he tsked in a slightly mocking way, looking up at you with a dazed look in his eyes, thrusting into you. "what'd'ya need, dove?"

"need..." you moaned, "need'ya, rafe..." you tugged him closer, making him chuckle again, giving another harsh thrust of his hips, making you gasp, "all you have to do is ask, love..."

rafe pressed his lips on your neck, one of his hands sliding down to your clit, and you could feel his thumb starting to draw circles on your clit, the pace and occurence of his thrusts speeding up, "you're gonna look so good with my baby growing in you, dove..."

"god, rafe..." you moan, arching your back off the bed, rolling your hips to meet his thrusts, too blissed out to even know what's going on "i've wanted this for so long..."

every ridge and vein on his cock felt like pure heaven as the tip of his cock kept kissing your cervix, your gummy walls starting to clench around him as you felt yourself getting closer and closer, the room filled with the lewd squelch of your pussy whenever he thrusted into you.

"god, i love you so much..." rafe mumbled into your neck, his teeth nipping at your soft skin, the headboard of your bed starting to bang against the wall. the hand that was on your clit stopped its movements, making you let out a disappointed whine that only seemed to egg him on. rafe moved your leg to rest on his shoulder, stretching you out before his thumb went back to your clit to continue what he'd been doing before.

the new position let him get so much deeper, your shared bedroom filled with your moans and your husband's ragged, groaning breaths. "rafe, 'm close, 'm close..." you whined, your grip on his hair tightening. "come for me, dove, come for me..." rafe moaned, "need to feel you come around my cock, sweetie... need it..."

you felt yourself come undone, the knot in your stomach coming undone, your gummy walls clenching around rafe's cock leaving him weak and groaning as he tried to drag himself out of your tight walls, only to plunge back into you, making you let out a loud whine.

"gonna cum..." rafe mumbled as he drew back slightly, before thrusting back into you until the head of his cock met the spongy spot inside of you, "gonna give you my baby..." he drew back, and thrust back in, "gonna make you a mama..."

once again, he drew back, but this time, the words he was trying to let out were muffled by the intensity of his orgasm, causing rafe to groan as he spilled warm spurts of cum into you, his cock throbbing inside of you, every vein throbbing at its own accord, your husbands breaths heavy and intense.

when rafe finally started getting down from his orgasm, he grinned, his softening cock still inside of you as he looked down at you, a sheen of sweat covering your skin, "you're so gorgoeous..." he pressed a soft kiss on your forehead, "can't wait until you're all round and full of my babies."

"you do know that once we have babies, it'll be harder to have time for this, right?" you grinned.

"i'll find a way." rafe grinned down at you, bringing the thumb that had been on your clit to your lips, making you taste yourself, "i always find a way, dove."

TAGLIST: @nemesyaaa @inbred-eater @raahosh @rcsbabydoll @dollyfiles @drewsephrry @cameronsbabydoll