#all i have been up for is crawling to the couch and playing lil bits and pieces of ff16. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

venusiangguk · 2 years

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the art of trying | jjk (m)

>>pairing: jungkook x reader / dilf!jk x grocery store clerk!oc

>>genre: friends with benefits, smut, angst

>>word count: 29.3k 😁

>>warnings: dom jk, sub oc, age gap, oc club era 🪩🥂, oc heart to heart with…, enter mr park seojoon !!, budding friendships 🥰, mending of relationships, enter dilf !!, reconciliation finally, but still we yearn, and jk is still a little stewpid, however!! he is doing his best!!, mostly oc pov i think, warning for a little bit of sad bc she is sad !!, but not too sad 😼, enter jock !!, dilf jk stuff: asking for permission, saying thank u, etc., fore play in the form of a lil dry humping 🫶🏻, finishes (multiple),, oral (m & f), dirty talk, lovesick gross smitteness 👎🏻, jreampie 👍🏻, and finally, enter nari !! (🧋)

>>notes: finally am i right 🤣

this is part of my dilf jk series that can be found on my masterlist

>>summary: you’re trying to forget jungkook, but he’s trying to make sure you remember why you shouldn’t.

It’s the middle of January and I haven’t learned to be okay without you, yet. The wind outside is harsh and cold. It hurts my feelings sometimes.

It reminds me of you, sometimes, too.

I still miss you.

“Girl, what does that even mean?”

Your laptop gets slammed shut, and you whip your head around to see Binna. Your very best friend that has been caught red-handed, reading over your shoulder.

“Do you mind?” you say with narrowed eyes.

“I do actually,” she says, walking around the couch and plopping next to you.

You roll your eyes and rephrase with something she’s hopefully less likely to have an answer to. “Can I help you?”

Binna looks stumped for approximately .4 seconds –not nearly long enough to be satisfying– and then she’s saying, “No, but you can help yourself. Please go to therapy. I am begging you and also I will pay for it.”

“Die.”

“C’mon, you’ve been sad for like almost 2 months,” she groans, “and it’s like… tangible, ___. I walk into the house and I can feel it. It just permeates the air and– look, it even killed the plant.”

Binna’s pointed finger guides your gaze to the small succulent on the windowsill and it’s a bit pathetic how your eyes start to tear up because it is in fact, the tiny succulent Jeongguk gave you so many months ago. You had done a good job of taking care of it for a while, his occasional texts reminding you to water it had been helpful. But lately you haven’t even really been taking care of yourself, and the little plant has, unfortunately, become collateral damage.

You also don’t get those texts anymore.

With big watery eyes and a fat bottom lip, you turn back to her and she sighs. Grabs the remote and pauses whatever is playing on the tv. This makes Jade squawk, something about her watching it and it being the best part but Binna is having none of it.

“No, this is actually dire. She’s crying over the plant, Jade. We have to intervene, it’s time.”

Jade pouts for a moment, looking between the tv and you as if she can’t decide which is more pressing. When she crawls from her place where she was laying on the floor to your feet, it seems her decision is made. She rests her chin on your knee.

“Still sad over the dilf?” she asks.

You nod pitifully.

“She was openly writing melancholy about him… it's a public cry for help,” Binna adds.

With a nod of understanding, Jade says, “Writing can be a good way to get your thoughts together and work through them.”

Choosing not to tell them that you don’t think you’ll ever be able to work through all the thoughts because there are just too many and it hurts too bad, you stay quiet.

It’s not an awkward silence that takes over the living room, but you can tell that Binna and Jade are trying to think of something to say. Jade ends up being the one to interrupt the quiet.

“Has he reached out to you at all?”

The unanswered text on your phone started as a temptation, but it’s ended as a little memo that helps put things into perspective.

Did you get home okay?

Jeongguk made his decision and he only sent you that text because he let you leave.

He sent you that text after he made it so incredibly clear that he wasn’t going to let you stay in his life.

Despite you telling him you’d think about things, let him know what you decided in regards to you and him– he really didn’t leave much room for you to do that. He’s hard-headed and he’s extreme and when he makes his mind up about something… it’s not likely anyone will be able to change it. Especially if it has to do with Nari.

And it’s not like you don’t get it. You do, to some extent at least.

Nari is his baby and Nari is his priority. Just like she should be. That’s self-explanatory and easy to understand. If Jeongguk felt you being in his life somehow messed with his priorities and decided it wasn’t going to work out between you two after giving it some thought– it wouldn’t have been easy, but you would have accepted it nonetheless.

But part of you believes he didn’t give it much thought at all because one moment he was washing you, taking care of you, kissing you. Making you feel like you were his and he was yours and like he cared. Like he was always going to be there; like he was endless.

Then the next he was telling you it was all basically a mistake to him. That he didn’t know if he had the room or the time for you anymore. Like you were an amenity with a timeframe. Something that was worthwhile, until it wasn’t anymore. Something nice that was momentarily useful, something that perhaps made his life better, easier in a way… but something that ultimately wasn’t necessary.

The turnaround was too abrupt and too abrasive and too rash for you to accept that it wasn’t impulsive. That he truly thought it through. You think that’s what’s hindering you from moving on.

A part of you almost wishes that you could fool yourself into believing he did mull it over. That he simply ‘changed his mind’. Because that’s better than the uncertainty that comes with him cutting you out so heedlessly.

If Jeongguk had a change of heart– it means that, at one point, his heart was sure of you; his heart did want you.

It’s deceiving, but it hurts less than the uncertainty.

The ache that comes with longing for what was is concrete and irrefutable in a bittersweet sense because at least in that case, what you’re yearning for was something that you had; something that was real.

You can’t pinpoint the pain that comes with uncertainty. There’s too much room for doubt, too many times you can mistake a ‘what if’ for a ‘what was’. There are too many ways you can spin the past if you’re not certain of it. Too many different outcomes you can craft. There are too many ways that uncertainty can hurt

Jeongguk’s 180 took place barely within a few hours. Specific changes were instantaneous. Like the quiet unease that shrouded the atmosphere; the quick developing doubt that inevitably tainted both your affections. In all honestly, you could feel the shift as soon as he walked into the playroom after talking to Nari’s mom.

Dasom.

The things you feel when you think about her make you feel so ugly. Like your heart is rotten within your core, ruining you from the inside because it’s so easy to blame her and resent her for everything that occurred. Easy to pin the earth-shattering, tectonic shift in your and Jeongguk’s dynamic on her. It’s easy to hate her for the things she said about you, for the thoughts she put into Jeongguk’s head. But deep inside, right next to your rotten heart, there’s something small that’s telling you it’s easiest to hate her because you aren’t her.

An achy heaviness levels in your gut and you press your eyes shut tightly, consciously making an effort to not tear up. It still hurts so badly. In a way you don’t even really understand. You’re not sure if it stems from jealousy or insecurity or maybe both.

But there is something so excruciatingly painful, something that feels so devastatingly unfair, about Jeongguk and Dasom.

It’s absurd and it’s stupid to let an ex get to you. You know that and you’re aware that it’s the past and that it’s over between them… but when you think about all of the history? It’s enough to overthink and compare. To wonder ‘what if?’, ask yourself ‘why?’ and ‘does he still?’.

Because they loved each other; were in love with each other. They had the sweetest little baby girl together. Dasom will always know Jeongguk in a way that you won’t. She will always know versions of him that you never will. She will always have a part of him and be a part of his life. She will always know him longer than you. No matter what –even if you and Jeongguk had stayed together, fallen in love, and gotten married– she was still there first. In a sense, you won’t ever be able to catch up to her– to them or what they had.

You almost have to laugh at yourself for thinking like that because it’s so pathetically dramatic and pointless. Because yes, letting an ex get to you is both absurd and stupid. But especially so when you let it get to you after months.

Bitterly, you consider that maybe Jeongguk was right. Maybe you were too young for him, and maybe you really weren’t ready for everything that came with him.

When your thoughts are reeled back in, you tell Jade about Jeongguk’s text you never answered.

“God what a whore,” Binna groans. “What kind of person asks that after cutting you out of their life?”

“A man,” Jade reasons.

It makes you chuckle a small laugh, and the silence that settles this time is a little more comfortable. A couple of minutes pass with the three of you pretending to watch Jade’s show when Binna clears her throat.

She tries to keep her voice light and casual, acts as if she’s just making conversation. “You’ve been lurking, no?”

She will be disappointed when you admit that you’ve tried. But she’ll also be pleased to know that you simply can’t.

“He doesn’t have Instagram.” You shrug your shoulders as if it’s not a big deal and like your recently searched isn’t full of accounts that have some variation of Jeongguk’s name in the user.

“He probably has Facebook, he’s old,” Jade says absently, eyes glued to the television once again.

Binna gets a worried look on her face when she can physically see the lightbulb go off in your head. Then her expression shifts into one of tired disapproval. “Thank you for that, Jade.”

Jade’s reply is simply a preoccupied, half-hearted ‘My bad’.

But you do not care and your phone is already out.

You’re trying to move on, you are. Truly. One peek won’t hurt. Also–

“He’s not old, he’s only 29,” you say distractedly, waiting for the app to download before the phone is promptly plucked from your hands. “Hey–”

“Give me that,” Binna interrupts, “If you look him up, you will come up in his ‘people you may know’. I don’t want that for you, and you don’t want that for you. Trust me.”

With a frowny pout on your face, you settle back into that couch. “Well… I don’t want you coming up in whatever that is either, right?”

“You do not need to worry about that because I am a professional and I am crazy. What’s his last name again?”

Professional and crazy sound like adjectives that are not supposed to go together, but you don’t argue and when she pulls out her own phone, you answer her.

Binna’s sleuthing seems to be entertaining enough for Jade to abandon her show, moving from her place at your feet to a seat next to Binna looking over her shoulder. Nervousness keeps you from joining, quietly just waiting for the few moments it takes for Binna to find what she’s looking for.

“Ah! Jeon Jeongguk, 30, C–” she gasps, eyes wide as she looks at you, “you didn’t tell us he was a CEO!”

You shrug. “Didn’t seem important. And I told you already, he’s 29. Not 30.”

Binna’s brows furrow before she’s looking at her phone again, bringing it close to her face and using her thumbs to zoom in on the profile picture. “Is this not him?”

“No, that’s him,” Jade confirms, face close to Binna’s. “I’ve seen enough pictures of him in the groupchat that I also see him in my dreams.”

“Please don’t dream about him,” you say musingly, reaching to snatch the phone from Binna just like she did to you.

It is in fact your Jeon Jeongguk pictured on the phone. His profile picture is candid, him smiling wide with those puffs under his eyes, probably mid-laugh. But it still seems professional enough, he’s in one of his many expensive suits, with his tie on, and his hair done sleek.

And you can feel how a small, sad smile comes to rest on your lips. You carefully click on the picture to see when it was posted.

Just a couple of weeks ago.

And the small, sad smile gets even smaller and even sadder. He looks happy enough, and you hope he is. But it stings a little for some reason.

Then you remember why you pilfered the phone in the first place.

Looking over his profile, you see the basic information. His alumn, his job, his hometown. You click the ‘about info’ option below all of that and it’s then that you see his birthday, and that his age is indeed 30. And you feel silly, a little embarrassed, for not knowing. Or maybe forgetting?

Though, you’re almost positive you didn’t forget. That you wouldn’t have forgotten something like his birthday. That you couldn’t have because Jeongguk was your favorite person.

You trade Binna her phone back for yours.

The photos in your camera roll on his alleged birthday are from what you thought was a random day that Jeongguk asked you to come over.

It was kinda spontaneous for him. Considering he was someone that usually liked to plan, getting a random phone call from him while you were still at work was out of character. He simply asked if you wanted to come over. Just laze around with him, watch a movie, or something. Stay the night, maybe. He sounded slightly boyish when he asked, like he was trying to mask the hopeful excitement in his voice. You told him yes, of course, but that you wouldn’t be able to come until after work.

When you showed up at his, still clad in your work uniform, he was beaming. You barely made it through the door before he was literally giving you the shirt off his back to change into, helping you out of your polo and khakis.

In the photo you’re looking at, your head is in Jeongguk’s lap and he’s shirtless looking at the tv with his hand over your mouth. You had been purposefully asking too many questions, just like you always did. The picture was taken from below so the angle is a little funny.

And even though you’re smiling at the memory, the image turns blurry as you start to tear up. Something about it warms your heart while simultaneously breaking it.

Apparently, he didn’t want gifts, or anything extravagant. Seeing as he omitted telling you it was the one day of the year that everything was supposed to be about him, the one day he was supposed to be doted on. Jeongguk just wanted to be with you. Just your company was enough for him. Just you were enough for him.

“He never told me it was his birthday, but he asked me to come over,” you tell your friends, with your thumb swiping through the many pictures you took that day. “Like me just being there was a good enough birthday present or something?”

Jade can hear the waver in your voice, and she gently says, “Maybe we shouldn’t look at old pics if it’s going to make us sad, hmm?”

“Maybe we should delete them, hmm?” Binna chirps.

You hear them but you continue till you get through the whole night and the next morning. The tears are so heavy in your eyes, but you try to laugh, dabbing at your waterline with your sleeve when you say, “I like– really miss him, guys,” before you end up just covering your face with your palms and letting yourself have your moment.

Jade coos, scooching closer to you, pulling you to her side. She rubs your shoulder soothingly. “I know you do, ___,” she says quietly.

Your roommate has really come a long way since the first conversation you had with her about Jeongguk. The other roommate, however, seems like she is regressing.

“We have got to get you out of the house and onto another dick. Your vibrator is tired and your pillow probably smells like the ocean because of all the tears it’s soaked up. It probably needs a wash, too.”

“Binna!” Jade scolds.

“No, like I’m so serious right now,” Binna defends, “I understand being sad over a breakup, but it’s been months. And over a grown man who lets his literal ex-wife, whom he divorced, still have such a pull on him? Like c’mon. What the fuck is that?”

“She’s allowed to be sad! And those things you listed make her sadness even more warranted. You were holed up in your room for months too, at one point,” Jade reminds, “But it was over a boyband breaking up.”

“In hindsight, it was very good for Zayn to leave,” Binna amends before giving you her attention. “Listen I get it, but I just want you to be happy again… You know?”

When you peek up at her with a sniffle, she looks sad.

“I don’t want you to get stuck in the sad and the hurt, ___,” she says quietly, “because sometimes when people get stuck in the sad and in the hurt, they can’t like– get unstuck. You know? Nothing gets better. The depression just swallows them and they don’t ever feel better and– I want you to feel better.”

Binna’s not the most eloquent, but she has the biggest heart. And you know she means well, and despite how stuck in the sad and the hurt you truly are, you know that she does have a point.

You have to brood over it for a moment, and you kind of feel like you’re outside of your body when you agree. Like you’re hearing someone else say, “Okay, where are we going?”

~~~

The club lights are too bright and strobing too fast, just asking for someone to seize. Your feet hurt because the heels you’re wearing are too high. You figured the weeks following New Year’s would be less crowded, that everyone would be recovering from blackouts and bad decisions. The sheer number of people around you tells you otherwise. You’re not having a good time.

When you tell your roommates as much, their response is handing you a shot. A few shots.

And since alcohol is essentially magic, with every shot glass that is emptied down your throat, the night grows more enjoyable and less likely to be remembered. The lights turn pretty, and the ache in your feet becomes dull and muted, just like the one in your heart.

You’re dancing how a person who doesn’t know how to would. Hips swaying, arms occasionally going above your head before slinking back down and over your body. The bass in the club makes it feel like everything is vibrating and it makes you laugh dumbly, eyes squeezing shut as you giggle to yourself. You know Binna and Jade are close by, but it feels like you’re in your own little world.

“I feel good,” you yell over the music to no one in particular. Eyes still closed, a loose-lipped smile lingering at the corners of your mouth.

The warmth of a body can be felt behind you, though it’s not quite pressing against you yet. It doesn’t feel bad, and neither do the fingertips ghosting along the curve of your waist. You press into the touch, the heat, a little more. A chiffon chuckle is puffed over the crown of your head. The tentative fingers at your waist get more firm, their grip trying to steady you.

“You look good, too,” the body behind you says, lips brushing the shell of your ear. It makes chills prick at your skin.

You bite your lip to keep from smiling at the sensation, at the words. Your hand goes to cover the bigger one on your waist. You intentionally keep the touch constant when you turn around in their hold. Their palm slides along your body till it’s settling on your lower back just above the swell of your ass.

When you look up, your reply gets caught in your throat.

The owner of the warm body behind you is handsome, strikingly so. Tall, strong. Smile dreamy, and eyes dark. He gives you a soft grin accompanied by an encouraging nod, wanting you to say what you can’t seem to get out.

“Uh–” you sputter with a wince, before clearing your throat, “I– yeah, um… thanks, you too.”

You can’t hear his laugh over the music, but you can tell he’s amused by the way his chest rumbles, and how his eyes curl. The hand at the base of your spine moves to your hip, squeezing gently.

His other hand is moving, too, and your track it till it’s tucking some hair behind your ear. You go still and flush when he leans down to your ear again. “I’m Seo-joon,” he tells you.

Introducing yourself is the automatic reply he gets, and he hums, eyes scanning your face. The hand that tucked your hair trails down your arm until his fingers meet yours. They flirt for a moment before they lace together. His movements seem shy, but they’re actually very calculated. Well practiced. Like he does this a lot. Like he knows exactly how to get what he wants.

The realization sobers you some. Not enough to clear all of the drunken fog in your head, but enough to make you vaguely more alert.

“I think you’re a… a little too good at this for me, Mr. Seo-joon.”

Seo-joon briefly looks surprised, eyes widening like a child who’s been caught in a lie. Then he’s recovering, laughing. “Ah,” he muses, guiding your arms to drape over his shoulders, your hands interlocking behind his neck. His hands do the same around your waist as he pulls you a little closer. “I don’t know, you might be the one that’s too good? Too smart? Read me like an open book.”

There’s a flutter in your tummy that you haven’t felt in months and it’s exciting. Makes you giddy as you blink up at him sluggishly, eyelids heavy.

“Are you not?” you ask him, coquettishly referring to him being easy to read. “Aren’t you here for the usual?”

He looks up like he’s thinking. Then he’s shrugging, like there’s no point in denying the obvious. Crowding your space, cheek brushing yours as he talks into your ear again, he asks, “And why are you here, ___? The usual, as well?”

Seo-joon doesn’t move out of your space like the times he did before, instead pulling you into him a bit more, making your space his space too. Lips brush against the corner of your jaw, just below your ear. Teasing, yet sure.

“I’m here to forget–” Your hand twines into the hair at the nape of his neck when he nips softly at your earlobe, making you gasp quietly, interrupting yourself. “–about someone.”

He lets out a smug sound of understanding. “That’s about as ‘usual’ as it gets, ___,” you hear him say, before he purrs confidently, “Let me help you.”

And when he molds his lips to yours, you expect the kiss to feel as good as the lead-up.

You expect the butterflies in your belly to flutter wildly– not go still. You expect the hands roaming over your body to feel rousing– not misplaced, like they aren’t supposed to be there. When you open your mouth to let him lick inside, you expect it to feel right. But it doesn’t. Sure, it doesn’t feel wrong, necessarily. But it doesn’t feel like it should. He doesn’t feel like he should.

But you want him to. You want Seo-joon to feel right, and you want him to feel good. You want it so badly that you go home with him.

~~~

The cab ride is nothing but a precursor– something that needs to happen but not something that needs to be remembered. It’s just a soft blur that prequels his soft bed, his soft kisses, his soft pets.

Seo-joon is being gentler than he was at the club.

Under the hazy hue of the club lights, the strong hands that tugged at the straps of your dress were confident, cunning, audacious, and assertive. Boldly expectant of the outcome he was so sure he would get.

Under his sheets, those same hands are… not exactly timid, but ginger with their eagerness. Delicate, imploring, coy, and suggestive; tactfully encouraging, rather than expecting, the outcome that he hopes for. The way his hips brush against yours is unhurried and intentional. The crass, dirty movements from before that were careless and unrefined are long gone. Now he’s patient. Grinding into you slowly, deliberate.

However, the change in pace, in the scenery, and in his demeanor– none of it makes the kisses taste any sweeter; none of it makes the touches feel any better; none of it makes anything good enough in the effortless way you long for.

It’s counterintuitive but the lack of ease, paired with the desire for it, just makes you try harder. Redouble your efforts.

You press your lips against his in a kiss that’s harder, dig your nails into his shoulders with a grip that’s harder. When you cant your hips up against his just so– you do it harder. He gets a little harder in his pants, and the thoughts in your head get a little harder to ignore. Faking gets harder and pretending does too.

Seo-joon is smart enough. He’s probably been around enough, too. With experience under his belt, it doesn’t take him long to sense the shift. The way your energy dulls, the slight tension tugging at your frame underneath him. But still, it doesn’t stop him from testing the waters one more time, giving you a few more unsure, assessing kisses.

To no avail.

With furrowed brows, he pulls away. Seo-joon doesn’t look angry, though. Just confused as he braces himself on his forearms, lifting himself just enough to be able to take you in, most of his body weight still resting atop you.

He clears his throat. “You don’t uh– you don’t really… seem to be– into this? Anymore? Into me?”

Your expression probably mirrors his. Confused, and maybe a little lost as you study him. Because he’s handsome. Almost unbelievably so, with his high cheekbones and sharp eyes; his nose and mouth that appear perfectly placed; his smooth, airbrushed skin.

You should be into him. Superficially at the very least.

But you just aren’t because even though he is handsome, flawless even, he’s attractive in a very ordinary, classical way. There doesn’t seem to be anything signature about Seo-joon’s features.

When he smiled at the club, it was idyllic and exactly symmetrical. His cheeks filled out, but just enough. His teeth –a dentist’s dream– were pristine, perfectly proportioned, and all of them just the right size. So white that they were almost beaming in the dim lights.

And even now, when he attempts an uneasy one to shake awkwardness it’s… fine. His plush lips are fine and his straight nose is fine and his even brows are fine and everything about Seo-joon is perfectly fine.

But, to you, he’s not really anything special.

Surface level, Seo-joon’s perfectly fine. But so are so many other perfectly fine, classically beautiful, ordinary men. There’s nothing that sets him apart. No defining characteristics, nothing about Seo-joon that makes him him.

Yet you can’t stop yourself from thinking that even if there were, it wouldn’t matter.

Because you already know what makes someone special to you.

You’re well aware of the distinctive features that make your heart flutter. Like when someone smiles and their bottom lip tugs down just a hint farther on the left side. Or when they get little rounds under their eyes and scrunch their nose when they laugh. When he has things about himself that are slightly imperfect. Like big front teeth or a barely off-center freckle under his bottom lip. Like the deep scar on his cheek that he got from his brother when they were little. Or the faint one by his eyebrow from the piercing he had in college that had to be taken out before it was yanked out by a tiny hand.

The man you’re sharing a bed with could be the most uniquely attractive person on earth and it wouldn’t make a difference. It still wouldn’t make him special– not to you.

He’s not what you want.

You hum when you admit it to yourself.

“I’m not.”

Momentarily, Seo-joon looks taken aback by your seemingly rash rethink, but he takes your drunken bluntness in stride. He gives you a forced smile before he hangs his head in an apologetic bow, shifting from on top of you to lay next to you. “I see, I’m sorry if I assumed or overstepped or made you feel like you had to come home with m–”

Seo-joon sounds guilty, and it surprises you when a hint of guilt starts to bloom in your chest.

“You didn’t!” you interrupt, “I thought I was into you… or like I should be into you…”

His eyebrow quirks and he just looks at you.

“Ah…” you muse awkwardly, scanning the room.

It’s so very bachelor. Dark furniture, a big tv mounted on the wall, a little bar cart off to the side next to the mini fridge that’s kinda big to be called ‘mini’. Nothing personal at all that could tell you anything about him, except the boxers on the floor that tells you he prefers Armani. No hint as to what his goals or his hobbies are.

Perhaps it's a good thing you didn’t sleep with Seo-joon. Guys like him have the most brutal post-nut clarity and you’re not sure you could take another grown man hurting your feelings.

“I just don’t want you to think like– I don’t know? That you did something wrong? Or that you like coerced me into coming h–”

“Wait, I didn’t think that–”

“–I’m the one that should be sorry!” you assure him, “Because I don’t think I actually went out to try and forget someone; I think I was trying to find them?”

A couple of stilted seconds pass.

“In… me?” he asks, like he’s mentally trying to puzzle the pieces together.

“I guess? Maybe replace them with you? Or like… use you… as a placeholder?” You wince helplessly at your choice of words, unable to stop them before they spill out.

Seo-joon’s confusion is replaced by a quick, bright laugh which is followed by a small smile that seems almost pitying.

“You’re still young–”

You physically cannot stop the way you interrupt him with.

“Please shut the fuck up.”

The tired words are spat tartly before you can clench your teeth around them. It’s probably a defense mechanism– you’re not quite sure you can handle another grown man being mean to you, but you’re almost very sure that you can’t handle one lecturing you about how young you are, about how much life you still have left to live, about how your youth makes it difficult to know what you really want, about how–

“Whoa,” he laughs. He’s on his side, his head propped up on his palm. He eyes you for a moment before he tugs the strap of your bra back up, haphazardly covering you again. “Sore spot?”

Pulling his sheets up for good measure, you pout. “He was older.”

Seo-joon makes a noise of understanding. “Older like… older brother’s friends older? Or older like met him at your dad’s work party older?”

Heat floods the rounds of your cheeks and you look anywhere but at the man next to you. No photos in frames. Not even a dvd collection that could tell you what type of movies he likes.

“He’s like– dad old,” you murmur, chancing a glance at Seo-joon only to see him pull a queasy-looking face, and then you’re backtracking to defend yourself. “But only like baby-dad old! Not like– teenager-dad old!”

He looks unconvinced. “How big’s the gap?”

“7 years?” you try.

Seo-joon goes from unconvinced to shocked and then to puzzled. “That’s like… nothing? Probably around our gap too?”

Your hands fly up and you scoff a little as you exasperate, “That’s what I said!”

He joins in and you both laugh in his bed until the giggles putter out into lazy silence. You’re pulling at a little tuft of lint when he hums.

“He told you that you were too young?”

You open your mouth to reply immediately, but then hesitate.

Because your age was part of it. Of course, it was, but was it all of it? Was it the root of it?

“I mean you are; not too young, just… young. But–” Seo-joon grins smugly, giving you a pointed look when he sees you scowl, “–youth isn’t a bad thing. And you’re smart. I meant it when I said that.”

Rolling your eyes, you say, “We literally just met–”

“Yeah, and?” he counters, just for the sake of it because he still doesn’t allow a reply. “We only just met and I could already tell that you were smart. Even though I tried, I knew my… methods wouldn’t work on you. You read me like an open book,” he repeats what he said earlier that night, before speaking slowly like he’s spelling something out for you. “and I’m sure I’m not the only one you’re able to read like that?”

Your scowl intensifies. “What are you getting at?”

“This boy you’re trying to ‘forget’? ‘Find’?” The hand that’s not supporting him comes up and he makes some air quotes. His tone is a little softer, like maybe he’s trying to be gentle. Or maybe he’s just tired of talking to you. You can’t be sure.

“I feel like you’re smart enough to know if the whole thing is worth it or not. How long ago was it?”

“A month or 2… give or take 17 days…” you mumble, avoiding his gaze.

“Okay. But yeah… that’s a good chunk of time…” he says around a quick yawn. Then he hums thoughtfully to himself. “I feel like you could think back and read the situation a bit more clearly now? Like, reassess it to… you know… I don’t know just figure stuff out…”

“‘You know, I don’t know’, ‘Just figure stuff out’, ” you mimic dryly, “That’s all the advice you have to offer me when you’ve lived lifetimes longer than me?”

“Listen, you can’t hate all men because of one man–”

“Yes, I ca–”

“Okay but, you don’t even hate that one man? That’s the whole issue?” Seo-joon interrupts. He lilts his tone up in an inquisitive manner, like he wants you to confirm.

You refuse and choose to reply with petulant silence.

“Exactly. C’mon, use that big, smart brain in that pretty, little head of yours,” he encourages, “Look back and just figure stuff out. It might be hard, but not as hard as you think. I feel like time away from what we think we need or want, always puts things into perspective. Distance makes the heart fonder, or–” He pauses for dramatic effect. “It makes the heart indifferent.”

Not rolling your eyes is a feat, but you manage. “Clearly my heart did not become indifferent if I am laid up with you and still going on about it.”

Seo-joon hums again, carries on some more. But you’re not paying attention because maybe time didn’t put things into perspective, but his words just did.

Distance and time make the heart indifferent.

Jeongguk hasn’t been to your store once since you left his house.

You frown, connecting imaginary dots as a little wrinkle sprouts between your brows. “He hasn’t come to see me since he cut things off.”

Seo-joon pauses mid-sentence, mimes your expression. “Did you expect him to?”

You pause now.

“Um… kinda?” you start. Rolling to your side you copy his position so you can look at him. “I mean, I work at the grocery store he would normally shop at,” you explain, before tacking on, “That’s where we met. He lost his baby and I found her… Or– she found me I guess.”

A small twinge of pain pricks your heart at the mention of Nari. You wonder if she’s talking, or if she’s at least getting closer. If she still doesn’t keep the sock on her left foot, or if she’s grown out of that nerve-wracking yet endearing little habit of hers.

What Dasom said about Nari getting attached comes to mind and you hope the little one is doing well. It hurts a little to think about, but you hope for her sake, that she didn’t get too attached or too sad when you stopped coming around. You hope she forgot you quickly.

“Anyway,” you say, “Guess that means his heart became indifferent.”

Giving a half-hearted shrug with a single shoulder, aiming to come off unbothered. Trying to act indifferent yourself, and like your heart didn’t just drop. You blink a couple of times in an attempt to clear the glassiness you know is cloaking your eyes and offer a weak smile.

Regarding you with a slightly concerned color to his features, Seo-joon chooses to not address the passing mention of a misplaced child or the fact that you’re very close to crying while half-naked in his bed. Decidedly, he says, “I’m not sure if I would call avoidance indifference.”

You sniffle. “Huh?”

His eyes narrow and he looks like he’s debating something internally. Then he sighs. “Listen, I’m not trying to encourage you to wait for him or go back to him. Or like… give you false hope–”

“Gee, thanks–”

“No really,” he stresses, “because that genuinely could be nothing. Men are a bit dense. They do things that may seem calculated, but in actuality, they’re just daft and it didn’t even cross their mind. But in my opinion,” he continues slowly, a bit hesitantly, “Choosing to not go to the grocery store he –I’m assuming– frequented regularly? Right after a breakup?” He sucks a bit of air in through his teeth before he shakes his head. “Yeah, that seems like a very deliberate choice.”

“Like indifference would be more–” he continues before pausing briefly to choose the right words, “I picture indifference as more of– him still going to your work, despite the breakup, because he just doesn’t give a fuck.”

Whatever words you were planning to say get caught in your throat and you cough out a short laugh at Seo-joon’s straightforwardness.

He grins a little. “Right? Because that’s what it is– a lack of interest, lack of concern. Like he just doesn’t care one way or the other about you being there because you’re not important enough for him to be affected by you.”

You know he’s speaking in hypotheticals, but it still sours your expression. Makes your lips pull down at the corners.

“Personally, if I were him and I was truly indifferent, truly unbothered,” he places his hand on his bare chest, “you being there or not being there wouldn’t be significant enough for me to alter my routine.”

Your eyes flit quickly over Seo-joon’s torso. His gesture causes the sheet to fall slightly, pooling at the subtle curve of his waist. There’s a faint warmth flooding your cheeks as you swiftly and intently bring your gaze back up.

You swallow before replying with a simple, “Ah… yes… that makes perfect sense.”

Playfully, Seo-joon scowls at you. “You sure you don’t want to fuck?”

“Yup.”

“It may help–”

“Nope, don’t think it will actually.”

He shrugs, an amused grin still lingering. “Suit yourself–”

“I feel like your post-nut clarity would hurt my feelings and I’m vulnerable right now.”

It’s silent for 1, 2, 3 seconds before Seo-joon’s loud laughter echoes in his room. Failing to keep a straight face, he rolls on his back and rests his head on his pillow as he lets himself laugh to his heart’s content. Then he inhales deeply and scrubs a hand over his face and swipes a finger beneath his bottom lashes; catching his breath and regaining his composure and wiping away the wetness under his eyes.

A few seconds pass before he’s turning his head to look at you with a quiet smile. It feels a bit too tender, too sincere, and too heartfelt, for what was supposed to be a one-night-stand.

“See,” he says softly, “told you you were smart.”

You just look at him, trying to read him like he’s so sure you can. There doesn’t seem to be any ulterior motives, just him being genuinely kind to you because he wants to be. And for some reason that makes your eyes burn.

“If it doesn’t hurt too badly to revisit everything that went on with the boy,” Seo-joon begins, interrupting the light hush that settled between the two of you, “I really feel like you’ll be able to see things clearer; read the situation better. Figure stuff out. And then, things will start to fall into place for you. Everything will start to make a little more sense. You’ll know if you’re wasting your time being hung up on him, and if it’s worth your happiness. You’ll know if looking for him is worth the effort, and you’ll be sure that ‘finding’ him is actually what you want after all.”

You’re definitely going to cry.

“And when I said you were still young, and that your youth wasn’t a bad thing,” he continues, “I meant that if you decide that you do want to look for him, and you do find him again– you still have enough time to try with him again.”

With a wobbly bottom lip, you feel your features slowly morph into a scowl.

It’s self-directed because it’s then that you think about what’s happening and how ridiculous it all seems.

Because why are you on the tail end of being drunk, half-naked in the bed of a grown man who you met just hours ago? Why are you telling him bits and pieces about the person he was supposed to distract you from? The person that caused you the most delicately painful ache that’s been festering for months? Why are letting this man give you advice? Why are you letting him comfort you? And why does it feel like he’s done a better job of it by just listening to you for the last few hours, than friends you’ve had for years?

And why do you feel like you’re going to cry about it?

The self-directed scowl morphs to a Seo-joon-directed glare.

“He’s not a boy,” you begin in a voice that shakes just a hint, arguing just to be difficult, “he’s a man with the cutest baby and he’s 30 now and–” The urge to cry cuts you off and you feel the first tear leak from the corner of your eye.

Seo-joon’s soft, sincere smile turns slightly sad as he tracks the salty drop. “Hey, don’t cry–”

“Shut-up,” you spout, your tone somewhere in between short and like you’re begging him to be quiet because it was him speaking that brought you to this state in the first place.

A short staring contest ensues.

“Also– I bet you would’ve been the worst fucking one-night stand,” you add on for good measure.

Seo-joon’s ability to keep from laughing is impressive. It’s only for a second that an amused smile overtakes his features– a natural reflex he isn’t able to stop. But it’s barely there at all before he’s schooling his features into something that he hopes looks receptive, like he’s taking in what you’re saying, absorbing it like it’s Gospel.

But he’s also a curious motherfucker, and he wants to know why you think that.

“That is baseless and an unfounded assumption,” he defends himself, because he may be receptive, but he is also a damn good one-night stand. “With that being said, please tell me why you feel that way.”

“Because I’m crying! And it’s because of you! You and your making of us bare our fucking souls during pillowtalk! Who does that?!”

It’s huffy and snippy and you both know you’re being mean just for the sake of it.

With lips pressed into a tight, smile-proof line, Seo-joon nods easily; agreeable and understanding.

He knows you’re fragile and that you’re tired– so he chooses not to voice how he considers what you talked about very surface level. How he thinks you may be more hurt and affected by whatever took place between you and this guy than you even realize yet. How he feels like you still have so much to work through, so much to learn.

Seo-joon lets you win and reminds himself that, right now, it’s not his job to help you soothe the things that hurt or fix the things that are broken. Reminds himself that you’re smart enough to figure stuff out on your own.

There’s a brief lull in the conversation that’s not as awkward or tense as it probably should be.

You sniffle. Then you hiccup.

And Seo-joon laughs, loud and brash and fond as he leans towards you. He gives you what feels like a platonic kiss on your forehead.

“Can I get your number?”

~~~

It’s an early Thursday morning in late January and Jeongguk is feeling troubled. Plagued, if you will, as he towels off after his morning shower. Plagued with the ever-growing, ever-evolving urge to check up on you. To see how you’re doing.

Lurking, as Taehyung calls it, doesn’t happen all that often. Jeongguk makes a point to not let himself do it daily. Or even weekly. It was his New Year’s resolution, in fact. That being said, it’s been exactly 12 days since he’s used his friend’s 8-year-old son’s instagram account to see what you’ve been up to.

Typically, he can talk himself out of the sudden notion. Put it off until he forgets, or just doesn’t feel he needs to so badly anymore. Currently, however, he’s blaming his inability to nix the restlessness in his fingertips on the fact that he hasn’t had Nari around to keep him busy. It’s been a long week.

Because Jeonggk’s been doing his best to keep himself from opening your page for what feels like days. Resisting the pesky pull even though he doubts you’ve even posted. Out of the times he’s given in over the last few weeks, he thinks you’ve posted maybe once. And it was just a picture of some clouds at that– vaguely heart-shaped, wispy, white puffs against sky-blue. The caption was just two emojis, the wind-face lady next to the white heart.

So frankly, even though he’s not exactly keen on how strong and itchy the urge to check on you is– he’s also not exactly sure why he’s fighting it. Not when merely scratching it isn’t going to change anything.

After shrugging on his work blazer, Jeongguk admits defeat– his inner demons having won yet again. He resigns to apathetic, easily accepted complacency as he swipes through the pages on his home screen till he gets to the very last one that houses the small, sunset-colored camera app. He figures he should probably just get it over with.

As he touches the application open, Jeongguk reasons that he’s just been putting off the inevitable– that he knows an itch can’t be ignored and that it won’t be quelled until it’s scratched or soothed. Tells himself that a quick peek before heading out for work won’t matter.

As he clicks on the mini magnifying glass at the bottom of the screen, Jeongguk reminds himself of lurking’s insignificance. Thinks back to all the times he’s done it before and how it never made a difference.

As he sorts through the random selection of 8-year-old boy searches till he finds your user in the mix, he reassures himself that checking on you won’t do anything but alleviate the nagging in the back of his head and the tingling in his fingertips.

As he taps your profile, he convinces himself that lurking will be relieving and nothing more.

As Jeongguk sees that you have posted, he realizes that this time, lurking does matter and that he is so very stupid for assuming it would bring him relief.

The picture is blurry, not unlike a handful of others he’s seen on your feed.

But the setting captured is new. The pink-tinted lighting isn’t familiar, and neither is the purple and blue hues. The crowd you captured is much more… abundant than what he’s become accustomed to seeing when he pulls up your page.

Jeongguk scans the photo for just a bit longer and then swipes to the next one in the post. This one is the final stupid nail in the coffin of Jeongguk’s stupid demise. The couple shot glasses grouped together in blurry cheers are all the confirmation he needs to know exactly where you were. His eyes flick to your caption, and then his features pull into a pensive frown with furrowed brows.

BUT FOUR DRINKS IM WASTED !!

Jeongguk taps open the comments.

flickthebinna: you’ve had exactly two (2) shots

ocstagram: i am Wasted !! 🤬

jadedjade: can u let her be wasted and focus on getting our drinks @flickthebinna 🤨

He can’t help but chuckle at your and your friends’ interactions, but as he closes the app he catches himself doing a certain habit of his. The little tick where he tilts his head and juts his jaw out quickly. His telltale sign of irritation.

Irritated with himself, of course. Partly because of the obvious. The spying (from a child’s social media account nonetheless), the moping that he’s been doing for months, the procrastinating and avoiding that’s been going on for almost just as long.

But also because he feels so embarrassingly immature for allowing what he finds out from the spying to affect him so deeply. It seems so very juvenile to get this worked up over an instagram post.

He’s irritated at the emotional rush and the way his hands are shaking. At the way his mind is jumping to conclusions and conjuring up all sorts of sour scenarios. He’s irritated with himself for the way unwarranted jealousy burns in his chest.

The irritation stews; sits in the passenger seat as he makes the drive to work– right next to the sudden instinct to act on a restless whim. The irritation festers; accompanies the worsening impulsive urge that makes it hard to think and ultimately pushes him to make a wrong turn.

The irritation is only sated when he pulls up to a curb and his car comes to a stop.

Jeongguk’s irritated with himself for a lot of things. But mostly because it took him so long to get here.

~~~

He’s not sure why he anticipated you answering the door. Karma wouldn’t be so kind, and he wouldn’t be so lucky. Obviously.

“And why the fuck are you here?” This is how Binna greets him, after taking him in with a groggy, borderline bored stare.

With a wince, Jeongguk tries, “Hi Binna–”

“Don’t you have a job?” she interrupts, the volume of her tone increasing with every word. “Aren’t you so busy? So busy, in fact, that it’s so hard to find the time for–”

He opens his mouth to try and get a word in but stops abruptly. So does Binna when she feels a soft hand on her shoulder, and hears a grumpy ‘Why are you being so loud?’.

Right in front of him, you’re still half-asleep. Drowsily using the sleeve of the oversized sweatshirt you’re wearing to rub over your face tiredly. Seeing as he decided to show up at a little past 8 in the morning.

After a few slow, dreamy blinks, you direct your attention to Jeongguk and he feels like he can’t breathe.

It’s unconscious, how his lips turn up a smidge when he really sees you for the first time in what feels like forever. When he sees the warmth that lives inside of you color your skin with the softest, natural flush.

Jeongguk is still so jealous.

He watches you and he studies you. Now that he’s not relying on his memories or the pictures in his camera roll or the ones on your socials– he’s trying to pick out what’s the still same; how you’ve changed. Your hair is a bit longer, a shade or two darker as well. Maybe it’s the big hoodie you’ve got on, but you look smaller than he remembers. In his chest, he feels his heart tug but he can’t dwell on it too much as he refocuses on your features beginning to stir.

They shift from dazedly blank to shocked, as if your still-sleepy brain has just now registered him being there, and the smallest gasp sounds from your lips. Then an expression that’s a cross between confused and angry takes the place of prior surprise. The doe-ish look becomes sharp and stern; your narrowed eyes are framed above by scrunched brows and below by shadowy circles. Your mouth goes from slack with your plush lips barely parted, to pouty and pursed in a deep frown.

Jeongguk knows he should say something.

Explain.

Say sorry.

Ask for forgiveness.

But he feels mute, like his heart is stuck in his throat. Like he can’t do anything but stand there and hope you show him a little bit of undeserved grace. That you give him a moment, and then another, to get himself together. Even though he’s had too many moments already to do exactly that.

In the few seconds that go by you shoo your roommate, and after she’s gone, your face changes once again. Softening just enough to not be so harsh. You stand in your doorway as he flounders and you watch with intent, almost curious, anticipation. And Jeongguk doesn’t want to be too optimistic– but he thinks there might be a hint of relief, an inkling of eager, hopeful expectation hiding in the way you’re looking at him.

As if you’ve been waiting for him; wanting him– and now he’s finally here; almost yours.

He’s so caught up in that –the minute chance of reconciliation that he only thinks he caught a glimpse of– that he doesn’t get out of his head until the movement of your shoulders slumping, and your chest deflating rips him out of it.

Jeongguk would prefer the air your demeanor carried just moments ago. The quiet, masked hopefulness you gave off before you made yourself smaller and breathed that tiny, dejected sigh. God, he would even take the calloused, puzzled hostility you had when you first realized it was him in standing in your doorway. Anything over how you look currently.

Definitely disappointed, maybe a little bit embarrassed, and just so sad.

It’s what he expected, at least to some extent. He’s foolish, but he can only fool himself so much. There’s a limit on how many fantasies of effortless forgiveness he can have before he has to face reality.

Jeongguk knew you would be sad, and he knew you would be disappointed. He was ready to take responsibility for the role he played because he was so sure that it would be his fault.

But what makes how you’re looking at him right now so awful, so unbearable– is that you’re looking at him like it has nothing to do with him.

You don’t look disappointed in him. You don’t look sad because of him.

It looks internal, so personal.

Like you’re sad because you naively allowed yourself to hope– let it glimmer, shining so obvious in your eyes. Only for the brightness to dim, snuffed out by the foolishness that so often goes hand in hand with naivety.

Like you’re sad because as soon as you saw him, you had expectations– preconceived notions about how it would go when he came back, how he would act. Only to learn that with enough preconceived notions, you can turn expectations into daydreams.

Maybe that’s why you look a little embarrassed, too. Because you so quickly let yourself hope, like a child who hasn’t learned from their mistakes. Because you immediately conjured up expectation-disguised daydreams of Jeongguk. Still, after all this time. After everything he’s done, you still expected good from him.

You look like you’re disappointed in yourself, not him, because you should have known better.

He doesn’t find his voice until you’re shaking your head like he��s let you down. Until you’re turning away from him and edging the door closed.

“I’m sorry!”

Jeongguk blurts the words out, and he didn’t say much but his chest is heaving and he’s got this frantic way about him and a panicky feeling flooding his veins. When you look up, surprise flashes across your face, but it’s gone in an instant and is replaced by incredulous anger. Like you can’t believe him.

Despite your trying to stand your ground and hold his gaze, a gleam still shines in your eyes.

“I am,” he assures breathlessly, his eyes darting across your face, “I’m so sorry, ___. And–”

When Jeongguk tells you he misses you, he notices how you almost flinch. How your eyes snap shut tightly –like you can feel his words, but still aren’t sure if they’re real or if they’re true; like you’re scared of finding out– and the heavy tears pooling on your lashline finally spill over.

As the salty droplets drip down the apples of your cheeks, Jeongguk feels an ache that hurts so badly that it’s visceral. Like if he could crack open his chest, he could get a hand on the it and just rip the pain out and make it go away. If only that was the case.

“I–” you start, but your voice gives out. You clear your throat with a small cough, and talk to the ground because it’s easier to talk to than him. “Maybe we’re better like this, Gguk.”

Jeongguk’s heart drops, and it’s a struggle to get out even just a whispered a plea of your name.

When you speak up this time, you force your eyes to meet his. Your brows are upturned and your bottom lip quivers for just a second before you take a deep, self-soothing, breath and school your features into a facade of indifference and resolve.

“I hope Nari’s been okay. And you. I hope you’ve been okay, too.”

Jeongguk’s brows furrow. He’s confused but gives you an unsteady nod. “She– she’s good, yeah.”

You scan his face, trying to keep your own expression neutral. But how he only mentions Nari and not himself doesn’t evade you. A faint heartache murmurs in your chest, but you mimic his nod. “That’s good. I’m glad–”

“What about you? Have you been okay?”

Jeongguk’s words come out overhasty and too eager. But after such a long time of replaying old dialogues in his head– talking to you just feels so nice. He doesn’t want to stop, even if the conversation feels stilted and trivial. He’s still going to hang on to every little marginal thing you say, and he’s still going to do his best to keep the empty words flowing between you.

He doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath while he awaits your answer. Not until he hears you say, “Yeah, I’m happy, I think” and the air inside his lungs vacates. Making room for a thick cloud of melancholy that isn’t surprising, but still makes it hard to breathe all the same.

Guilt mingles with the suffocating hurt because you being happy shouldn’t make him sad.

But then you smile and Jeongguk responds with a frown and a skeptical shake of his head.

Because the smile– it’s so fake, so unconvincingly artificial and staged that when it turns your eyes to half moons and causes their corners to crinkle– it also forces a fresh wave of tears to tumble down your cry-flushed cheeks.

He doesn’t believe you, but that’s no surprise. You’ve never been a good liar.

A dim, defeated laugh putters from your lips. Trying to portray nonchalance, you give him a weak, half-hearted shrug, like you know you’ve been caught but it can’t be helped.

He knows it hurts you to dismiss him. He can hear it in your shaky, wispy tone when you say, “Take care, Gguk.”

Take care Gguk.

Jeongguk knows it’s a ‘goodbye’. A goodbye that he’s having trouble processing.

It feels like a lifetime, but really it’s only a few seconds that Jeongguk stands there trying to make sense of your words. It’s only a few more before the door closes on him.

Jeongguk couldn’t process the goodbye, but the telltale click of the door locking somehow makes perfect sense.

~~~

Like you are the starlet of your very own coming of age, lifetime, hallmark romance drama– you don’t let yourself cry until your back is pressed against the closed door. Then you cover your mouth to keep quiet as you slide down the wood.

The moment is short-lived.

“Where’s Jeongguk?”

The voice seemingly comes from nowhere, and you jump slightly before swearing and directing your puffy, bloodshot eyes at your roommates. They both have their head peeking out from behind the kitchen wall. Nosy.

“What do you mean ‘where’s Jeongguk?’” you groan, knocking your head back against the wood.

Binna and Jade exchange a look.

“Are you guys like… not gonna… talk?”

You slow blink at them a single time.

An awkward quiet permeates the pumpkin-spice-scented air of your shared home. It’s not even Fall anymore.

“Well,” Binna starts, and then cuts herself off like she spoke before she knew what she wanted to say. She elbows your other housemate. “Jade?”

Jade gives you an instinctive, reactionary smile that’s far too big. “I mean… communication is key… right? And that’s mainly what was lacking before? Talking now could give you the oppurtunity to say all the things you’ve been wanting to. And maybe he can explain his side–”

Binna raises a hand to cut her off, “Too much credit, he is still a man.”

“Fair but–”

The two bicker for a bit before looking at you again.

“Wait, did you not want to work things out?”

You roll your eyes. “Of course I wanted to.”

“Of course you did,” Jade agrees easily.

“Of course you did,” Binna mimics before groaning and asking, “So why the hell is he not here, and why the hell are you not talking and ‘working things out’?”

Crossing your arms, your posture becomes defensive. “Wouldn’t that be too easy? Like he shows up at my door after all these months of virtual silence and I just let him in? Aren’t I supposed to make him grovel and cry and beg?”

“You have to let the man speak for him to be able to grovel and cry and beg, I’m afraid…” Binna informs.

The narrowing of your eyes is the simple response she gets. Only because Jade speaks up before you can.

“You know…” Jades starts, then ponders momentarily. “If it was you that showed up at his house out of the blue at 8 in the morning on a weekday? Then yeah,” she nods to herself, “I would say that it was too easy for him. But he came back to you. And just talking to him?” she shakes her head, “That’s not forgiving him. He still has a lot of work to do– and you should make him prove himself. Prove that he’s grown and changed,” Jade says before she gives you a gentle smile. “But him knocking on the door was also him taking the first step.”

He came back to you.

It’s what you wanted. But now that it’s happening, you have no clue what to do next.

You don’t know what to say. Are you supposed to lie and tell him you’re thankful that he pushed you away; that it helped you realize that he was right? That you are too young? That you’re happier without him, better off being free like he wanted you to be?

Or do you tell him the truth? Do you tell him about how hard it was without him? About how painful it was to go from having so much of him, all of the time– to not having none of him at all, ever? Do you come clean about how hollow and lost being alone made you feel? Do you tell him about how much it hurt every time you thought about how all it took was a few words from his ex– and you were gone; cut out so easily and carelessly? Do you admit that it still hurts to remember?

You don’t know what to do. Do you resist the fight you’re expected to make him put up? Or do you not fight it much at all and welcome him with a second chance and a fresh start? Do you pretend like you didn’t miss him? Like you didn’t fantasize about him coming back? That you didn’t look for pieces of him everywhere you went; in everybody you met?

You don’t know how to feel. Happy because he came to you? Sad that it took so long? Scared because him coming back is just another chance for him to leave again?

You were already crying, but the trickle of tears grows steadier. The sleeve of your sweatshirt is swiped angrily at your eyes, the light grey material dampened a few shades darker.

“Bro,” you cry, “I can’t even look at him without crying, I’m not gonna be able to talk to him. It hurts too bad.”

Jade looks down at you, gives you a pity pout. “If it’s any consolation, I think he will cry too.”

Binna agrees with a sympathetic nod of her head. “He’s probably hurting just like you, but it’s what he deserves.

“___,” Jades speaks up again, “It doesn’t have to be so– painstaking. Like you don’t have to drive yourself mad thinking about what you should do. Just do what you want to do. If you want to talk to him, then talk to him.” She shrugs like it’s really that simple.

And maybe it is.

~~~

It definitely isn’t.

Because if it was, you would not have opened with, quote, ‘I let you put your finger in my ass’, unquote.

And Jeongguk wouldn’t have replied with a slow, painfully dumb sounding: ‘I– yes… I remember…?’

You don’t even really know how it happened.

One second you’re hit with a burst of inspired adrenaline and then the next you’re knocking the wind out of both you and Jeongguk by barreling into his chest. The collision must have knocked the sense out of you, too. It’s the only explanation for your behavior.

All the same, the blame can’t be entirely yours– Jeongguk has to take some of it. He was standing directly outside of your door, after all. He claims he was working up the courage to knock again but that’s beside the point.

You keep your thoughts to yourself, as you pretend not to catch the way that he rolls his lips between his teeth to keep a smile off his face when you lead him into your room and slyly try to kick a few things under your bed. A stuffed animal, a bra. A few too many socks.

It’s a stupid attempt to make your space look a little more tidy and less like you’ve been rotting in it for the last few months. The room’s not too messy by any means; definitely not unkempt enough for you to feel embarrassed or like you need to straighten it up to impress him. But you hope he chalks it up to your nerves getting the best of you.

He’s nervous, too. If how awkward he’s being is anything to go by.

Just standing at the foot of your bed with his hands in his pockets while you situate yourself in front of your headboard. He doesn’t take a seat until you pat the mattress a little, letting him know it’s okay and that you want him to.

There’s a quiet hush that fills the space. It’s slightly tense, but it’s not entirely uncomfortable; stilted but somehow familiar.

You’re sitting with one leg dangling and a pillow in your lap. It’s hugged to your chest. Perhaps a make-shift shield to put something between you and Jeongguk. Fiddling with a loose pillowcase string helps you avoid eye contact by making you look occupied.

Jeongguk’s sat before you, stiff and looking down at the floor between his feet. Similarly evading your gaze just like you’re doing with his. He’s clenching and unclenching his hands, rubbing his palms restlessly over the material of his slacks.

Thinking back, Jeongguk feels like he did so much of the talking that night in his living room. Probably too much, if he’s being honest. He feels he never really gave you the time to say your side or a proper chance to explain yourself.

So this time, he wants to let you do most of the talking. Let you be the one to initiate, at the very least. He wants to give you all the time you need to start the discussion how and when you want, with what you want and feel has precedence.

Jeongguk stays patient right up until you say in a huff, “Well say something, I’m obviously not good at this.”

His lips twitch at your stubborn, slightly irritated tone.

“You’re the one that showed up at my house when I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to be at work, so,” you wave your hand at him, indicating you want him to get on with it. “Must have something important to say.”

The small laugh he allows himself is barely a chuckle, but it tumbles from his lips before he can stop it. Blames it on instinct and the simple fact that he just misses you.

“It is important,” he confirms, giving into your bait and starting the conversation for you. He considers staying quiet, getting another little reaction out of you, but he reminds himself that this isn’t the time for that. If he plays his cards right, maybe then he’ll be able to joke with you. But as of now, that’s not his place anymore.

Shifting to face you a little more, so that when he says, “I wanted to apologize to you, ___,” you have his full attention.

When he speaks, you don’t look at him. Instead, you only give him the faintest nod with your eyes cast down. Still fixed on the pillow in your lap. But Jeongguk notices how your lashes flutter quickly before you press your eyelids together tightly; just like you did earlier when he said that he missed you.

Your shoulders lift when you take a deep inhale, and your face is more or less neutral when your eyes meet his.

“It’s been months,” you tell him.

As if he doesn’t know. As if he hasn’t been driving himself mad day in and day out trying to muster up the courage to do precisely this; as if time doing what time does hasn’t been the bane of his existence. Because with each passing day, he knew he was that much closer to going from ‘it’s been so long’ to ‘it’s been too long’. He’s all too aware of just how long it’s been.

Regardless, he doesn’t want to give you excuses; choosing to be easily agreeable. He offers a small tilt of his head as acknowledgment.

“Why now?” you question him.

Jeongguk tries to keep the sadness off of his face when he hears how you sound.

The tone of your voice is unsure; hurt. But the pain is elusive. Only heard when your subtle heartache peeks through the veil of composure you’re trying to hide behind.

While he racks his mind for a worthy explanation, his eyes scan yours. Overflowing with so many different emotions and so expressive just like he remembers.

“I wish–” he begins, “I wish that I could tell you that I’ve been working toward this for ages and that I thought through all the steps and knew exactly what I wanted to say to you…” He gives a small self-deprecating chuckle, “But I can’t tell you that. After earlier, it’s clear that I didn’t have any idea or plan,” he offers you his bared palms. “I wish I had a good reason for ‘why now’, but I don’t.”

Your brows furrow with affronted confusion. Jeongguk speaks up before you can.

“That’s not to say that I haven’t been thinking about this since you left–”

“I didn’t leave, you got rid of me–”

The correction is hissed before you snap your mouth shut like you didn’t mean to say it. But you don’t take the words back and Jeongguk can’t control his expression this time. His face falls and he sighs as he looks down at the pattern on his pants.

“I’ve been thinking about this since I told you to leave,” he tries again, slowly. When you don’t comment again after a small pause, he continues, “but I wasn’t actively figuring out how to do it. I’ve come to learn that plans are essentially useless, so planning out what to say to you seemed pointless. In hindsight, it just made me look stupid,” he muses.

“Honestly, having you on a constant loop in my mind wasn’t intentional; I didn’t want that,” Jeongguk admits. But he doesn’t even chance a glance, not keen to see your worsening scowl. “Remembering you just made me so miserable? Like, thinking about you all the time made me miss you all the time. And missing you made me so fucking sad– like the kind of sad you can feel? Like it hurt to think about you. But you never left my head, so the hurt never went away…”

Jeongguk’s words slowly come to halt, his cheeks reddening to a bright cherry when he realizes that he’s rambling. As he’s mentally trying to dull his blush to something more faint and less conspicuous, he notes that your expression changed. You still look a bit angry, but now, there’s a pastel hue. A soft, muted sadness toning down the harshness.

He stumbles a little when he says, “I– Truthfully– I guess the–” Then he takes a quick, staccato breath mid-sentence to get himself together. “I guess the most truthful explanation for why I took so long is… avoidance? And guilt? Fear?”

When he frustratedly combs a hand through his hair, he pretends not to notice how it’s shaking. And he’s grateful that you don’t mention it when you track his movement.

The conversation gets stuck in a momentary limbo while Jeongguk thinks about what he said. It’s the truth. He was scared before– it’s what got him in this mess and it’s what kept him away for weeks too long. But he’s still scared. Despite getting the most intimidating part over with –actually coming to you after finally working up the nerve to– the fear of fucking up still hasn’t waned.

He’s still just as scared as he was.

Scared of saying the wrong thing. Of not being able to put what he feels into the right words. Of not being able to convey how truly fucking sorry he is for hurting you, how much he regrets it. He’s scared of hurting you again. Scared of you not forgiving him for the first time he did.

He is still just as scared of lying in the bed that he made.

Jeongguk digs his fingertips into his thighs and his nails are dull, but he does it hard enough for a minute pang of discomfort to still be felt. He makes himself puff out a lame chuckle. It sounds strained and resembles a scoff more than anything, but he’s trying to lighten the mood; make the air in the room lighter and easier to breathe.

“I’m sorry,” he says on the tail end of the scoffing chuckle, shaking his head lightly. His voice has a light waver, shaky due to his nerves. “I– I’m just–”

When he feels your small hand settle over the one he has working into his leg, his head whips up quickly and a reactive reflex almost has him pulling his hand away.

But he stops himself before, and he’s so happy he does. Because when the initial shock wears off, your touch feels good. Familiar and comforting. He’s happy he catches himself because your touch feels nice and when he looks up from it, he gets to see you.

It’s like you stopped hiding and came out from behind that veil. Or maybe it’s an accident and you just forgot to keep it up. Either way, it doesn’t matter because he gets to see you watching him so artlessly, so openly honest. With a look that feels like a reminder.

A reminder that your heart has always been so soft, so sweet– that it still is. Softer than the hand you have settled gently over his and sweeter than its touch when you coax his own into being gentle, too, but with himself. A reminder that you’ve always been soft, sweet– that you still are. You look at him –softly; sweetly– like you’re reminding him that you’re still you.

It makes his eyes water and he has to look away. The thin, pinstripes on his slacks blur together, blending into thick lines as unshed tears muddle his vision.

“It’s okay, you can–” he hears you tell him, starting hushedly. You sound hesitant, like you’re not sure if you want to finish. “I… want to know what you’re trying to say. So– you can take your time... I’ll wait for you.”

And if someone asked Jeongguk to describe the ache that fills his chest at your words– he would tell them that it hurts like he imagines the kindest, most tender, undeserved compassion would.

“It took me so long because I was a coward, ___,” he says quietly. But the word is spat from his mouth like something foul. “I was so scared of feeling the hurt and facing the guilt that came when I thought about you; what I did to you–” Shame runs through his veins and he shakes his head at how spineless he was– unable to face the consequences of his own actions. It’s humiliating to remember.

He’s still talking down to his lap when he admits, “I– just avoided it altogether. I was so busy trying to keep it away that I didn’t give much thought to owning up to everything. I didn’t even know where to begin or how to go about fixing things with you.”

Jeongguk’s not crying yet. With that being said, his vision is still bleary and his eyes are red-rimmed from fighting the stubborn tears. He turns the hand he still has underneath yours palm-up. Covers yours with his other on top. Your tiny hand sandwiched between his big ones. He tilts his head back, blinks the wet in his eyes away.

“I wanted to so badly, though,” he tells you, bringing himself to look at you, “To fix things with you. To just try with you. It took me way too long to understand something that should have been common sense: That things don’t always happen the way you plan for them to; That pieces don’t just fall into place just because you want them to. If I want something… It takes effort to make it happen. I have to work for it and try my best to put the pieces where they belong.”

Jeongguk gives you a small smile and your hand a little squeeze. “I needed someone’s help to figure some things out,” he rolls his eyes playfully, almost fondly exasperated by the memory. “Like how to start altering the way I think and how to stop with all the wallowing and self-commiseration. How to stomach self-reflection. But when it finally clicked and I really got it? Fixing things with you was the only thing I wanted to do.”

There’s a tiny flicker of something coming back. A sanguine glimmer replaces the chagrin in Jeongguk’s eyes and you try to mirror it, reflect it back to him. Because the things he’s saying all sound so good. Perfect and promising and like everything you could have hoped for.

But when he says the thing about needing someone’s help? Anything he said before gets repressed. Unclear and hard to recall, as if his words are stuck inside a wayward memory. Anything he says after is indistinct. Muffled and hard to hear, as if there’s water stuck inside your ears. Similar to the rot that’s stuck inside your heart; ugly and hard to get rid of.

Such a gross, sickly feeling suddenly comes over you.

It takes so much effort to swallow it down. The green-washed insecurity that’s wanting to crawl up your throat and out your mouth. Masquerading as untrusting accusations that will make you seem paranoid. Heartsick questions that will leave you too vulnerable.

Who was it? Was it her? Was Dasom the one who helped you?

Of course, she’s going to be a sore spot and you know that. But the thoughts fluster you and catch you a little off guard because it’s not like you to think like that.

It’s never been like you to be paranoid. To feel so self-conscious and easily threatened. You’ve never been the type to chastise. To interrogate, or pry. To accuse, or assume.

The doubt came from out of nowhere– crept its way into your head during a brief lapse of emotional awareness and into your heart when it erringly opened and was left unguarded. At first, quieting the intrusive thoughts and dispelling the negative feelings was a challenge. But in the end, you managed and it was fleeting and passed quickly.

Shaking the residual embarrassment that follows the bad thoughts and emotions, is much more difficult.

Unlike the momentary doubt, the sudden flash of insecurity that it comes with is so intense that it lingers, so strong that it fogs your head. It distractingly hangs out in the back of your mind making it hard to focus.

It takes a few moments longer before you’re able to suppress it and push it down, down, down. Down far enough that you’ll be able to forget about it. At least for a short while, you’ll be able to convince yourself that the feelings won’t come back because it’s just not like you.

Wanting to omit it altogether, you gather your composure and fully give Jeongguk your attention again. You give him a small but genuine smile and wiggle your fingers that are still between his hands.

He smiles back softly, while you sit quietly. You’re working to piece together the things he said while you were lost in your head, trying to come up with a decent response.

“I was scared too,” you reveal quietly, “The whole time I was scared.”

“Will you tell me what you were scared of?”

“There were so many things, Gguk.” You don’t tell him that there still are. Jeongguk nods attentively. You gingerly untangle your hand from his, catching his eyes before looking around your room.

“The finger thing was a really bad example,” you begin trying to explain. You shake your head with a sheepish smile, embarrassed and horrified at your past self. “and it wasn’t the actual act. It was more of what it meant that was scary for me? Like the fact that I let you do something that I always swore I would never let anyone do? Ever.”

Laughing lightly, you think back on all of the times that your friends would make jokes. How they always told you that there would be a time that you would be horny enough to let it happen. The times when they had more class and said it was fine if you never wanted to and never did, but that they still thought you would end up giving in one day. For the right person, you would.

But you always remained adamant– so sure that nobody would ever make the act appealing enough, that nobody would ever make you feel comfortable enough with them for you to allow them to touch you like that or see you like that.

“But then I met you.”

Jeongguk’s brows furrow slightly, like he doesn’t quite understand. But he just stays quiet and nods again, waiting for you to continue. And honestly, you can’t blame him. Anal should never be such a serious topic or something that feels like such a pivotal point in a relationship. You certainly wish that it wasn’t.

But alas.

“All it took was a couple of months… Just a few soft touches and some dreamy words and I was putty in your hands.” Your hands that are folded lightly in your lap open up to show your palms before they squeeze shut into tight fists. “I feel like I would’ve done anything for you; anything you asked me to.”

His features fall, and the expression he wears is laced with so much guilt. “Wait– Did I… make you feel like you had to do certain things?”

You can’t help but smile at his concern as you shake your head sadly. “No, no… nothing like that– I always wanted to.”

Jeongguk frowns, not certain of how truthful you’re being.

Promising him that you’re not lying, you elaborate. “That’s part of why it was scary for me, I think. There was just something about you that made me so…I don’t know, willing? So yours?”

The admission makes pesky pinpricks of tears sting the backs of your eyes. “And I was. I was so yours the whole time even though you weren’t mine–”

“I was–” Jeongguk chimes softly. Interrupting, if only for the sake of trying to convince you.

“Not really,” you argue. The tone you use comes across as somewhat detached. Like you’re just stating a fact.

Using the silence that nestles between you as an opportunity to think, you consider what you’re wanting to tell him. How vulnerable you’re willing to get. Your mouth opens before you feel like you’ve even made your decision.

“I knew you liked me,” you acknowledge because you don’t want to be unfair, “but part of me always wondered: ‘how much does he?’ and ‘for how long will he?’. I was already scared that I was just a phase for you. Before Dasom ever said it.”

Jeongguk tenses just a touch at the mention of his ex and you pretend not to notice, continuing with, “So when she said that I was just something you needed to get out of your system and you didn’t defend me? God, Jeongguk,” you get out, eyes squeezing shut. Wincing at the ghost of pain the memory brings back. “That hurt so much.”

Despite your wanting to look him in the eye and come off strong while you relay how his actions made you feel; it’s impossible. Despite wanting to seem as though you’ve healed and grown and matured and like it just doesn’t hurt so bad anymore; you can’t face him.

“And then everything happened so quickly?” you continue before he can get a word in, your words coming out rushed and frantic, “It felt like you didn’t even think about it, and like it was just so easy for you to let me go? Like I really was nothing just like she said–”

He can’t stop himself from reaching out and quieting you when he hears the way your voice breaks. Jeongguk doesn’t want you to cry, not sure he could handle it if you did. Your hands are in your lap still, clenched together, so he rests a palm on your knee.

“___,” he says gently, “I need you to believe me when I tell you that none of that is true.”

You keep talking like you don’t hear him.

“It almost seemed like you were already over it, bored of me. And her saying those things was a convenient way to– ” you shake your head before sighing. “I was always scared that you’d end up getting tired of me, that you would stop wanting me and just get rid of me. And after what she said, it felt like you finally did. Like you used her words as an excuse so you could finally leave me.”

“That’s not true, baby,” he reiterates, tongue slipping as he tries to console you again

At the pet name you look up. Your red-rimmed eyes locking with his.

He stutters a bit as he backtracks, barely able to get out a stiff apology.

And your lips pull down in a deep frown, and your brows turn up confusedly. “You said you wanted to… fix things with me?”

Jeongguk’s lips part, dim surprise taking over his face before he breathes a small yes.

“I want that too,” you breathe back, “but I’m still so afraid Jeongguk.”

“I know, I know you are– I am too–”

“Not like me,” you counter, “You may be scared, but you’re not scared like me. You can’t be scared like me.”

Your words come out sharper than intended, too emotional for the facade you’re trying to portray. But you don’t dwell on the tone of your voice. Nor do you dwell on the brief ire that flickers in Jeongguk’s eyes.

“I’m scared that I’ll never catch up to you. You won’t ever know what that feels like because you’ll never be the one that’s worried about falling behind– you’re the one that’s ahead of the curve. I’m scared that I’m not good enough for you and Nari– that I can’t be. You have no reason to be scared of that.”

The fight to keep your voice level and in control dwindles. Every ounce of your pain can be heard as you let out the burdensome ache in your heart, little by little.

Each word is heavier than the last when you ask Jeongguk, “Why would you be afraid of not being good enough for someone who never made you question it?”

Jeongguk flinches. Visibly recoils as if your words are abrasive enough to hurt.

Which is what you wanted. You wanted to hurt him, but it doesn’t make you feel better like you anticipated. If anything his reaction makes your pain ricochet right back at you. Hurting him, hurting you.

And then you consider that perhaps, you didn’t truly want him to hurt– that you might have just wanted him to be aware. To know what you’re scared of; how it hurts to be scared.

“Maybe you are scared, too,” you amend, “Maybe there are even a few things that we’re both afraid of… but being scared isn’t something we have in common.”

The hurt from before is replaced by barely-hidden defensiveness. Jeongguk does try to hide it as he listens to you, though. You give him credit for that.

“Being scared that you’ll realize that I actually am just some stupid kid that doesn’t know what she wants, exactly like you thought, is a very specific fear,” you try to explain. “I’m scared that one day you’ll look at me but you won’t see me anymore– you’ll see a mistake that could have been avoided if you never came back. That I’ll cross your mind. But instead of thinking fondly… you’ll end up thinking about how you wish you had just stuck by your decision when you said you wouldn’t let me stay.”

A defensive urge to argue the validity of his feelings comes naturally– he’s only human. His emotional side finds it unfair of you to determine, decide, and define his fears but the irony of the situation dawns on his logical side just as quickly.

The fact that you’re speaking to him in a manner that mirrors how he spoke to you all those months ago, doesn’t escape him. Instead, the similarities make him stop and think. Something he regrets not doing that night in his living room.

He concludes that arguing with you would be pointless. He knows you’re right and it doesn’t take him long to realize.

Yeah, Jeongguk’s scared. But just like you said– he’s not scared like you. Not scared of what you’re scared of. Jeongguk’s fears are more or less internal and he’s had a few of them for most of his adult life, since he became a father. Some of the fears may concern you in some way or another, but none of them manifested because of you or something you did or things you said.

He’s scared, but he’ll never be scared like you. Not when the things you’re afraid of only exist because of him.

The thought of it never going away, of you never being the same or free of the ache he caused, even after the insecurities and fears are dug up by the root– it makes Jeongguk feel like he’s going to be sick.

“I know you didn’t mean to hurt me,” you end up saying after a few moments of watching Jeongguk struggle to get words out. “And I know you regret it. You showing up here proves that.”

The small, sad smile you give him is too kind for what he did.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” Jeongguk says, “For you, for Nari. I never thought– I’m so sorry, ___.”

“I know,” you reassure, gently.

And you truly do know how sorry Jeongguk is. He obviously doesn’t have the words to express his remorse, but sincerity is written all over his face. His big doe-eyes dark and glassy and so genuine. Full of regret; the longing to go back and undo what can’t be undone. Somehow so full of warmth, just like you remember.

“I don’t want to fight anymore,” you say.

It doesn’t sound like you’re at your wit’s end or like you feel as if the conversation has reached it’s breaking point. Just sounds like what it means. Like you don’t want to fight. Not with him. Not with yourself. Not with what you’ve been wishing for since you lost it.

Jeongguk agrees, nodding. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make it a fight. I want you to be able to talk to me about–” He’s flighty, moving his hands all about, like he’s nervous and has too many things he wants to say. “about everything, really. So, I promise, I’ll just listen–”

You watch him for a few more seconds, letting the corners of your lips turn up just so. Then you reach for his hands, ceasing their movement with your own.

“Shush,” you laugh faintly, “There’s still a lot we have to talk about. So much– we can’t get through it all with one conversation. It’s gonna take a lot of them and a long time, probably. But I think we’ve covered the most important stuff, right?”

You’re aware it’s going to take time to get through the maze of problems you and Jeongguk have created between each other.

But you can’t help but think about all time that you wasted while making them.

And you don’t want to waste even more time by waiting till everything is figured out before you start letting yourself get past it. You don’t want to hinder the process of moving forward by getting lost trying to navigate the maze. Not when you’ve finally made your way back to each other.

So while the labyrinth hasn’t been solved, and all your issues haven’t been fixed, at least now, you don’t have to do it alone. You can resolve everything and find a way out together.

It’s possible that you’re too willing to push things aside, that you’re too keen to move past it all. That you’re not standing your ground, being too easy and too soft, too quick. That you’re not giving yourself enough time to consider what you haven’t touched on yet. To process what you have.

But as you told Jeongguk, you feel like what needed to be addressed has been. With time, everything else will be talked about. Which is enough for you and your eager heart. You don’t want to wait anymore, not when you’ve been waiting so long already.

Jeongguk’s wearing a flush when you grin at him and he looks down at the pair of your hands, still slightly entangled on your duvet. His thumb rubs softly over your knuckles while he says, “If you’re sure?”

Vaguely aware of Jeongguk absently toying with your fingers while he awaits your reply, you think it over just for the sake of it and end up remembering something.

You hum musingly, making sure he can hear the smile you decorate it with. An attempt to diffuse the heavy air in your room till it’s something more buoyant; lighthearted and easier to breathe. You curl your manicured finger around one of his, trapping it briefly before untangling both your hands.

“Actually,” you start.

So very attentive, Jeongguk whips his head up.

“Now that I think about it, you told me why it took you so long,” you reflect, “But you didn’t tell me why now.”

Jeongguk opens his mouth to reply before he’s furrowing his brows, puzzled, pursing his lips into a line. It’s quiet while he thinks.

A weak, hopeless simper sounds, and he shakes his head while running a hand through his hair. “Again, I wish I had a better answer for you.”

You roll your eyes and change positions, now sitting criss-cross in front of him. “Okay, well, you didn’t just randomly show up! There had to have been something that made you come now; today.”

Light, but genuine laughter rings in your room– it starts off sounding like it’s accidental, cut-off chuckles only heard because the person laughing can’t hold it in, and it ends as cute giggles that lilt throughout the space softly.

And it’s all Jeongguk’s fault.

“No,” he says, around a breathy giggle, “I really did. I probably shouldn’t admit that, but I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and I ended up caving and looking at your–”

It’s now your fault that sounds of amusement continue to filter in the air– Jeongguk’s eyes getting wide and his face turning pink is too funny and you can’t not laugh at him.

He stutters when he tries to backtrack, “Y… Your– pictures? On my phone? In my camera roll?”

You narrow your eyes suspiciously, impishly. “Which of my pictures, hmm?”

The flush coloring his cheeks runs down to his chest, the silver LV pendant of his necklace would probably be warm if you reached out and touched it. He would probably be warm too if you reached out and touched him.

“No! Oh my god, not those! I did not look at those, okay? Anyway,” he rushes out, “I really was on my way to work! But add a couple of turns and a few steps–” he shrugs, “I guess now because I physically couldn’t keep myself from you any longer? Because then I was at your door and now I’m here. With you.”

The giggles have finally ceased, and now it’s just your paired breathing that acts as low background noise while you both take the other in.

“Now you’re here with me,” you repeat softly, with an even softer smile.

Jeongguk’s eyes drop to your lips for the briefest of moments. He darts his tongue out to wet his own.

“___. You were right,” he tells you, “It didn’t have to be all or nothing like I thought it did.”

You nod once.

“I’m sorry for not listening to you. For deciding for you and not letting you make your own choices. And for not even letting you explain your side that night. For how bad I hurt you and for all the things the hurt caused.”

“Okay,” you breathe.

“I should have listened to you.”

Again, you nod.

“I should have chosen you.”

It’s almost instantaneous when tears well in your eyes.

“But I was so scared of the way I wanted you and how badly I wanted it,” Jeongguk confesses, “I’ve never felt the way I feel about you before. For anybody.”

Mild confusion makes a home in your eyes.

He expects it before he sees it stir your features, so he’s not surprised when it appears. He finds himself smiling. Maybe because he’s wanted to tell you that since he realized it. Or maybe he wants to finally do what he should have done the night of the fight, and even before then.

Jeongguk smiles at your uncertainty because this time, he gets to make it go away. He gets to reassure you of your place in his life, of how important you are to him. Of how you’re worth trying for. He’s quick to shush you when your lips part to speak.

“No one,” he insists, “You’re so different, ___. And I feel so differently for you. I feel different when I’m with you. That’s part of why I was afraid. I was scared to want you because I didn’t know how to have you.”

Tears are making his eyes gleam, glassy in the morning light that streams through your blinds. Yours are a mirror and you don’t know how you’ve kept the drops from spilling over.

“I’m still fucking scared,” he admits, “Like you said, we’re both still scared. Because we have no god damn clue how this will turn out. If we’ll even be able to fix it and get back to the way we were. Who might be collateral damage if we can’t. If one of us will end up changing our mind. Or if we’ll end up even better; if we –me and you, together– will be the only thing that we’re sure about.”

The urge to tell him that you’ve been sure ever since you found his round little bug of a baby in your grocery store is so strong– you think you may burst because of it. Maybe the lovestruck feeling in your chest has gone supernova.

“I have no clue about anything other than the fact that I want to be with you, ___.”

Let the record show that between you and him, Jeongguk is the one to let the first tear fall during this conversation.

“I want to try.”

“Yeah–”

“If you’ll let me, I want to try for you. And if you’ll have me, I want to try with you. Because if we don’t at least try– I think I’ll wish that we did forever.”

When you beam at him and exhale a simple, ‘Okay’ and Jeongguk echoes it, he thinks this is all too easy.

But then he remembers how everything with you has always been that way. Maybe not too easy, but just right. Concerning you, the hardest thing he’s had to do is be without.

He brings your hand to his lips, brushing your knuckles with a sweet, kiss. “I want to be with you,” he tells you again.

You bite your lip to suppress your smile. “Then be with me.”

This time he’s the one saying ‘Okay’ and you’re the one echoing.

Until backtrack with a pout. “What… what am I? Like– to you.”

“What do you want to be?”

“Yours.”

Your answer is breathed so quickly, like you didn’t even have to think about it to know that’s what you wanted. Like that’s the only thing you’ve ever wanted. How fast you reply gives Jeongguk butterflies. Makes him giddy while he tries to calm himself as he confirms, “Mine,” before he adds quietly, a little shy, “I’ll introduce you as… my girlfriend?”

Jeongguk is so endeared when you close your eyes, wistful when you ask him to say it again in an airy voice.

“My girlfriend,” he whispers, squeezing your hand in his.

When you open your eyes to look at him and he sees unshed tears heavy on your lashline, his heart pulls in his chest and it breaks a little when you murmur, “I didn’t know if I would ever hear you say that.”

“I’m sorry it took me so long.”

A teardrop escapes the corner of your eye when you shake your head, smiling so sweetly, so happily. Jeongguk’s distracted, just taking it in and getting lost in everything that is you. So much so, that he doesn’t see it coming. Not until your arms are wrapped around his neck, his reflexively coming up to wrap around your waist like muscle memory.

Jeongguk takes a deep breath when he has you in his arms, nuzzles his nose into your hair. Pulls you impossibly closer, and he can feel how he squeezes the air out of you when you puff out a dulcet laugh into the crook of his neck.

When you bring your hand to the back of his head, the feel of your nails on his scalp and your fingers in his hair is enough to make him sigh, sink into the touch. It’s familiar. Feels like a natural progression, just like the way your cheeks brush when you pull away just slightly, only to come back. Closer this time.

His nose bumps yours, and he inhales your shaky sigh.

“I…”

“Yeah?” Jeongguk breathes.

The shift is swift. The temperament of the atmosphere smoothly transforms– going from something saccharine and tenderly sentimental to something decadently rich and heavy. The air all at once becomes thick and intoxicatingly heady; plush and ardently warm.

The build-up is gradual. At first, the sudden heady note of warmth that makes your room hazy just feels like a blanket. Like it covers softly, tickles the skin lightly. Then it begins to seep in so slowly, gradually, that it’s not noticeable until the heat of it can be felt bone deep. Until fingers shake with the desire to touch.

It starts with Jeongguk nosing along your jaw; down the length of your neck when you tilt your head to the side for him. It starts with the occasional, accidental brush of his lips against your skin. It starts with your hand gripping tight in his hair, a subtle try at pulling him in to keep him near.

It ends with a kiss.

Albeit, a fleeting one– but still a kiss nonetheless.

Pulling himself back, Jeongguk’s features are tensed. Eyes squeezed shut, teeth gritted as he struggles with himself. He’s rough when he gets a hold of you by your waist. His fingers digging in harshly; almost like he doesn’t realize how he’s handling you. But he’s gentle when pushes you away to put some space between you.

“Why–” you whisper, needy, as you bring your palms to cover his grip at your waist. You pet at the backs of his hands, coaxing him into letting them roam. You guide his touch down to your hips when he gives in briefly, encouraging him to touch you.

“I don’t know if– Maybe we shouldn’t–”

You crowd his space, bringing yourself to your knees and pushing his palms down to where the hem of your too-big sweatshirt grazes high on your bare thigh. Jeongguk groans after he loses his short internal battle. Can’t rob himself of squeezing at the meat of your thighs just for a second before he’s trying to pull his hands from yours.

He doesn’t get very far because you end up cradling his face in your hands, angling his head up to look at you. And Jeongguk’s always been so easy for you. It’s no surprise how easily he yields to the movement; how easy his eyes slip shut. How easily he parts his lips when your tongue teases the seam; how easy it is to get lost in the taste of you.

“Shouldn’t what, Gguk?” you ask in a soft voice. Each word spoken between the kisses you’re trailing down the column of his neck.

Jeongguk keeps his hands mostly to himself. Awkwardly letting them hover by your sides as he searches his brain, trying to recall the reason why he’s clinging to his resolve. It is so hard though, when you’re right in front of him. So willing and eager to let him have you. He finds himself following your lips when you barely let the plush center graze his cupid’s bow.

“Maybe we should… take it slow?” he offers, dazedly. It wasn’t supposed to sound like a question, but Jeongguk can’t help the way his voice carries up at the tail end like he’s not sure that’s really what he wants.

A little giggle falls from your lips, puffs hotly over his. And Jeongguk’s never thought you evil before, but right now he’s certain that you are. Because, with wistful mirth still in your voice, all you do is nod like you’re simply humoring him and say, “Yeah, maybe.”

Then you kiss him again, sighing a delicate, ‘Touch me’ against his lips.

You bring his awkward hands to your body, placing them on your tits, urging him to cup and squeeze over your sweatshirt.

Jeongguk exhales shakily, unable to keep himself from rolling them in his palms.

“Yeah,” you whisper, “Please.”

His hold on your chest turns rough, accidentally letting his pent-up frustration out through his touch and taking it out on you. It doesn’t hurt, not really, but you still whine. Let out a high, airy keen as your eyes slip shut and your head tilts back.

There’s no warning. Only Jeongguk’s hands moving to your shoulders, followed by a push and then a tumble, ending with you on your back and Jeongguk hovering over you. He’s got your wrists pinned by your head, and he looks down at you with dark eyes. The frustration in them juxtaposes the surprise in yours.

“You know that’s not fair, ___,” he chides. His tone is harsh, trying to sound stern, maybe angry– but there’s a slight waver in his voice that tells you he’s struggling to stay collected.

Fussily, you squirm under him. You tug against the hold he has on your wrists, only for him to squeeze tighter. You cant your hips in an attempt to rub up against his, only for Jeongguk to just lift them higher. A laugh of incredulity pairs the disbelief on his face when he glances between your wiggling frame and your irritated pout.

“I’m trying to do things right,” he explains around his bemusement, as he roughly presses your wrists deeper into the mattress. “I’m trying to be good.”

You stare up at him with pinched brows. He looks so pretty above you. Flushed a pretty pink with his lips parted and plumped by the kisses you managed to steal. A stray, misplaced strand of hair flutters with his heavy breathing. His eyes keep flitting down to your lips, and you can physically see how much he wants you; how hard it is for him to fight it.

When he finally lowers his body to yours, it’s almost defeatedly. Jeongguk gives in and just rests his weight on you. Presses himself against you, hot and hard between your legs. Finding his place easily when you open up and make room for him.

He keeps that pressure on his cock while he exhales a trembling, almost relieved sigh. His nose brushes yours but when you tilt your head to connect your lips, he pulls back. He does it again, taunting you with almost-kisses until you’re craning your neck again.

He doesn’t kiss you back when he lets your lips connect. In fact, you can feel how he purses his stubbornly. You stay determined, unswayed by his resistance. Your soft kisses inch from his mouth to pepper cute, all over his blushing skin. The scar on his cheek, the bridge of his nose. The just barely off-center freckle beneath his bottom lip. When your palm naturally settles on his neck, fingertips over his pulse point, you let out a breathy noise of wonder when you feel how fast his heart is racing.

And he feels his cock kick shamefully in his pants, letting out a breathy noise of his own. You feel it too and you coo, soft and fond, as you trail your other hand down his spine until it’s flat on the small of his back, pressing encouragingly.

Pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, Jeongguk hangs his head to get closer to you. He bites gently at the pudge of your cheek, letting his teeth drag lightly until he’s mouthed hot, all the way to your ear.

“Why won’t you let me be good?” he whispers.

He croons prettily against the shell of your ear before he nips teasingly at your earlobe. A heat curls in your belly, making you suck in a short, whiny breath. The insides of your thighs clamp tight around his frame.

“Be good to me,” you gasp, arching up into him.

Jeongguk moans quietly and buries his face in your neck when he can’t stop his hips from stuttering into a clumsy rhythm. Sloppily rutting his cock over your panties, uncoordinated and eager.

Maybe he’s overly sensitive, hyperaware of your body underneath him, but when you begin to roll your hips, meeting his and matching his pace– he can feel how the little bit of added pressure has you opening up for him. Just enough for his hard-on to slide between, barely pillowed by your panty-covered pussylips. Even through the clothing, he can feel the difference. Like he knows you can.

He hears the unexpected moan you let out when you feel his cock rut over your clit and he feels the way your nails dig into his back at the sudden enhanced pleasure before he shifts to rest on his forearms so he can see too.

And what a pretty sight you are.

Eyes hazy and heavy, half-lidded as you look down your body to where he’s making you feel good. Cheeks flushed a rosy pink with arousal and maybe a little bit of abashment when you glance up at him and see him already watching you. You give him a small, shy grin before letting your eyes flutter closed. Basking in how he’s making you feel, your mouth falling open in a silent moan.

As he takes you in, his lips part with a low groan. His own pleasure coming from pleasuring you; heightened by every noise, look, and movement you make. Jeongguk gets such a specific satisfaction and gratification from making you feel good. From being good to you.

“Is this what you want?” Jeongguk whispers, slowing down some. He settles into a steadier pace, rutting his cock up and down on your cunt with slow, lazy drags.

He grins to himself because of how quick you are to nod and let him know that, yes, this is what you want. His hand comes up to smooth some of the flyaways that have sprouted from your squirming and he cups your cheek when your turn into his touch.

“Hmm?” he prompts, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

You huff, annoyed, and he can’t help but coo, smitten.

“Yeah– yes I want this, but I–,” you start off strong. You hold his gaze until shyness wins and has you focusing on the necklace dangling from his neck. The LV sways some as he continues to rock his hips. “I want more, too.”

“Yeah?” Jeongguk asks, a smile lacing his dreamy tone. He gives a quick, soft peck to your red-bitten lips in lieu of letting you answer. “I know you do,” he tells you, murmurs it with open-mouthed kisses against your throat. He pulls at the neck of your sweatshirt, draws a violet into your collarbone, using his lips as the pen. Then he tugs the thin skin between his teeth briefly, making you inhale harshly before he kisses it better.

“Gonna take care of you,” he promises, “take my time with you.”

Jeongguk proceeds at his own languid speed, lingering on every new inch of skin that’s revealed as he rids you of your sweatshirt. Of your panties.

He allows you your own pace as well.

Doesn’t spur you on when you’re slow to open up his dress shirt, doesn’t goad you into nimble quickness when your fingers stumble and it takes you far longer than it should to undo all the buttons. He doesn’t hurry you when your touch drags over his skin, or when your palms falter at his shoulders, or when your fingertips lag all the way down his arms when you finally slide the button-up off. When your shaky hands bide their time, hesitating at the buckle of his belt, he doesn’t rush you.

Jeongguk takes his time –and lets you take yours– as if time itself doesn’t exist when it’s passing between the both of you. As if each moment that comes and each moment that goes is inconsequential because moments are meaningless and time is simply a concept when forever is right now.

Nothing really matters and there’s no need to rush when he’s in your hands and you’re in his arms and forever is in his heart.

“Not yet,” he lilts, grabbing your wrists and sliding the flat of your palms up his tummy and away from his waistline.

“But I–”

“But I–” he flirts coyly.

Your mouth opens to argue, but the words never get a voice. His mien makes the words in your throat fall mute and causes a feeling of wistfulness to rouse in your heart.

Knelt on his knees between your legs, smiling down at you, playful and flirty. Happy. Wearing a pink full-body flush– Jeongguk is stunning. Distractingly so.

He’s glowing; gentle yet radiant. A quiet fondness reflected in his eyes as he looks at you with that well-worn adoration of his. It’s a familiar affection. One that you’ve missed, yearned for, and memorized– one that you’ve tried to unlearn and tried to forget, too, because of how much it ached to remember.

Nostalgia is a wonted thing that taints good memories until it hurts to remember them. It warped the memory of Jeongguk’s adoration until even just a fleeting thought about it hurt. It made you want to wipe your memory clean just to be freed from the yearning.

But with him looking at you the way he is, with that same raw adoration, you can’t fathom how you wanted to forget how it made you feel. How it still makes you feel. Because how good does it feel to be adored? How good does it feel to be wanted? How good does it feel to be finally his?

You dig your nails into his skin at the thought, and his tummy tenses. His grip on your wrists tightens and he lets out a soft hiss, the sound buoyed by a light, airy chuckle.

His thumbs run over the pulse points in your wrists. “Lean against the headboard for me? Get comfy?”

Cushioned by a few pillows, you do as he says, sinking into the down. Your knees are bent, and your arms are wrapped over your middle, now hyper-aware of how exposed you are comparatively.

Jeongguk’s top half is just as bare as you, only his necklace still on. But even though his lower body is covered, his bottoms are unforgiving. Dark slacks belted at his hips, the slight dip by his hipbones accentuated and his v-lines disappearing into the waistband where his cock is tucked away. Too hard and heavy to disguise, clothes doing almost nothing.

Not that he’s trying to hide it much at all. He’s palming himself casually, his touch light and his eyes dark. Tracking your movements while he waits for you to get settled.

When you are, Jeongguk makes his way to you, his hands resting on your knees as he lets his gaze roam. From your eyes to your lips, to your pillowy tits, to your closed legs. You feel a light pressure, almost tentative like he’s asking for permission with his touch.

He’s on his best behavior though, so he asks you as well. And when you hear how his voice comes out a little deeper, with an almost imperceptible tremble, as he gently asks, “Can I?”, your lashes flutter and your thighs reflexively press together, before you let him guide them open.

Time isn’t real, but any time in your bed shouldn’t go to waste. So he swiftly resituates himself, resting between your spread legs with his lips naturally finding their place on your neck, his hands on your skin.

Jeongguk’s quick, but attentive, as he relocates his mouth. The spit from his kiss marks leave a faint, wet trail from where they start at your neck down to the swell of your tits. He sighs when he gets a hold of them, jiggling a bit and squeezing. He glances at you through his lashes, as he plays your nipples, teasing them till they’re hardened by his touch. He smiles to himself when he sees you bring your bottom lip between your teeth to keep quiet.

When he uses his lips to tease, he hears you sigh an airy, pleased sound. He’s smug as he swirls his tongue, flicks lightly over the stiff little peak. You take a deep breath, your chest expanding and pushing into him, before it’s released in a stuttery exhale. When you get a hold of his hair, the strands curl around your fingers, softly, like how you hold him close and cradle him to your chest.

He gives the paired nipple the same attention. Has you mewling prettily with each lick and suck. Whining with each bite and tug.

As he follows the length of your body, he does so with small, suctioning bites. A little nip just below your sternum, a little nip under your ribs. One at the softest part of your lower belly, right next to the pink heart of your belly ring. He gives the jewel a tiny, baby kiss.

“This is the same one that you had in the first time we…” he stammers, too aware of the blush that simmers just under his skin at the thought. “We… you know… right?”

Jeongguk’s laying on his front, his head resting against your inner thigh. His arms wrapped around your legs, resting on your belly. The tattooed fingers of his right hand absently toy with the dangly part of the jewelry.

Something warms you from the inside, pleasantly surprised by the mushy, lovesick feeling that washes over you. Your heart beats, rapid in your chest, and you wonder if Jeongguk can feel the whirlwind of butterflies in your tummy under his palms.

You nod, blushingly and shy. “Yeah, it’s… yeah.”

“Just as cute as I remember,” he nods back. The puffs under Jeongguk’s eyes form when he smiles and adds, “This one is my favorite… Gonna make you feel good now, okay?”

He says it so casually, that you want to laugh a little, but the anticipation it sparks makes you tense. Your pussy clenches on nothing, and you can feel that tell-tale heartbeat pulse between your legs.

“Okay… yeah…” you whisper dumbly, trying to hide how eager you are. You slowly open your legs a little wider so you can see him better, so he can touch you better.

Jeongguk switches from having one of his hands wrapped around your thigh to it resting palm down on your mons. He uses his thumb to lightly run along your plump folds, up and down. His eyes are fixed on your pussy, and his tongue peeks out to wet his lips a little before he nibbles on the inside of his lip, a soft smile making the corners curl.

“Just as cute as I remember,” he says again, his tone playful and a little wistful this time. He kisses just above your slit.

Past lovers had said your cunt was pretty or maybe perfect when they found themselves between your legs, but Jeongguk has always called your pussy cute. It’s just a thing he does. And you don’t know why, but it never fails to make you blush, a little giddy and shy– something just so simple and sweet about his word of choice.

Even now, it has you wiggling and trying to inch your legs closed as you bring your hands up to hide your face. It’s whiny, but you both know you don’t really mean it when you say, “Stooooop” the word dragged out and laced with pleased flattery.

You can feel Jeongguk’s warm laughter puff over your cunt as he urges you to keep your legs spread. He hums as the giggles subside and says, “Don’t be shy now, I’m just getting started.”

A wistful sigh sounds, and it’s soft and cute and taunting when you say, “Okay well, hurry up.”

You shift slightly here and there to get more comfortable, running a hand through your hair as you resist the urge to smile back at Jeongguk when he gives you a look. When you bring your arm down from your hair, Jeongguk snags it, guiding your hand to your cunt. But when you start to play yourself he stops you, tuttingly.

“Don’t touch, just– open up for me,” he instructs, “Show me.”

Jeongguk groans under his breath when you do as he says. When he stroked over your pussy lips just a moment ago, they were plush and smooth, soft to the touch with your arousal tucked neatly between your folds. But with them spread, he can see how you’re glossy with slick; so dewy when he’s barely even touched you.

“You’re already so wet. How long have you been like this, hmm?” he wonders aloud, gathering a small bit of the sticky clear at your opening with his finger before just barely pushing it inside. Kind of like he’s trying to put the little droplet back where it came from; not let it go to waste. Then he brings his touch to your clit and your pussy slick aids the up and down swipes of his thumb.

“Ah– fuck,” you faintly gasp.

Jeongguk’s cock pulses as you bring your other hand down, using both to spread yourself open more and pull back the hood of your clit. Making sure his touch is direct and the sensation feels as good as possible. The thought of you already being so greedy for pleasure is enough for him to leak, precum surely leaving a wet patch in his briefs.

Even though he’s being gentle, when he rubs over your exposed clit, you shy away from his touch despite being so fiendish for it. Jeongguk babies you with a coo because he knows that you’re probably so sensitive. You gave yourself almost no time to warm up, afterall.

“Too much?” he asks you.

With a shake of your head, you say, “No, no… just– slowly, please.”

Your words make him smile and he gives your inner thigh a honeyed kiss for being so good. The smile lingers because slow is the pace he always intended to use, at your request or not. It’s how he intends to finish you too. For the first time, at least.

Jeongguk keeps that slow speed until your body relaxes and another few drops of clear slick drip for your cunt. The thumb of his other hand rubs softly over your taint as he collects what you leak and tucks it back inside. Your pussy clenches and your hole puckers at the sensation every time, and it makes him fucking throb.

The thumb on your clit only speeds up enough for it to not be torturous or agonizingly slow, the pace satisfying but remaining lax and unhurried, like he has all the time in the world. Once he finds a good rhythm, he keeps the motions constant and consistent.

When you start to get antsy and fidget, he smiles to himself knowingly.

“Feels good, baby?” he asks you, and when you nod, he whispers, “Yeah? Look so pretty…”

And you didn’t lie. It does feel good. But he doesn’t go any faster. He doesn’t push the fingers at your opening in any farther. And after a handful of seconds that feel like minutes that feel like hours– there still isn’t any indication that he plans to.

When you roll your hips, trying to hint at what you want, Jeongguk stops you with a scolded tsk, telling you to stay still. The sound you let out is frustrated and petulant.

There’s a taunting note in Jeongguk’s voice when he says, “I thought you said it feels good?”

“It does,” you tell him, “But– faster?”

Jeongguk’s expression is entertained, chuffed even. “I told you I was gonna take my time with you. Need you to be patient for me, baby–”

“Please–”

“Hush, ___.”

There’s still lingering amusement in his tone, but there’s also a sharpness, a hint of disapproval and something stern that wasn’t there before. It’s enough of a warning to silence the begging on the tip of your tongue.

“I’ll get you there, baby,” he says, his voice sweet again. “It’ll feel so good, I promise.”

It’s quiet for a moment. Then–

“I changed my mind, it doesn’t feel good.”

Jeongguk doesn’t even look up from your pussy when he asks a preoccupied, “No?” Then he peeks at you, and when you give a pouty nod he hums. It’s smiling and mirthful when he dismisses you. “Well, don’t worry. It will soon.”

Jeongguk is content between your thighs, still playing with your clit slowly. He only checks on you when your squirming mostly stops and you become suspiciously mute.

He snorts when he sees you scowling at him. “Don’t look at me like that.” After a few seconds with no response, he continues with, “Oh, so you’re going to be difficult now?”

You shrug, snooty.

Laughing, he asks, “You’re really gonna act like it doesn’t feel good?” The corners of his lips curl softly and his eyes narrow like he’s scrutinizing you. His head tilts a little when he continues with, “Like you’re not leaking, right now? Like you wouldn’t be making a mess on your sheets if I wasn’t helping you?”

Jeongguk watches your cheeks steadily turn a deep pink at his words until you look away from him, turning your nose in the air. You probably would have covered your face with your hands to avoid his gaze had they not been occupied.

He chuckles again when he’s only met more silence. Just the slightest squirm when he tucks another leaked droplet back into your cunt. To make a point.

“That’s okay, you can be mad at me as long as you’re patient, too,” he says, tone grossly fond and a perfect example of the patience he wants from you. “Still gonna make you cum. Still gonna be good to you and give you what you want.”

And it seems what people say about patience being a virtue and all that, is true. Because just like Jeongguk said, with just a bit more time and some decorum, it does start to feel even better.

Like the way he’s been touching you, the come-up is slow and steady. The hot waves of pleasure that ebb in your lower belly. The rise and fall of your chest that gradually gets faster. The noises that get harder and harder to keep in.

Jeongguk doesn’t need to hear you, though, to know he’s getting you there. But he’s enjoying this brattier side of you –he remembers you being difficult every now and then, but overall you were always so good for him; never fought him too hard on things– so he humors you by asking, “Starting to feel nice, baby?”

Everso tart, you shrug again, looking off to the side.

Still, Jeongguk doesn’t need to see your face to know he’s getting you there. Your pussy is a whistleblower, telling him everything he needs to know. Your cunt– leaking non-stop, contracting constantly. Your tiny clit– now puffy and swollen from all his attention.

Your fingers holding your pussy lips apart for him have a mild tremor. Your brows are arched when you finally give him your attention again, watching his thumb swipe up and down, over and over again. Your legs are beginning to tremble beside him. Your head is lulling back, and your lungs are exhaling a lewd sigh.

“I– I’m close,” you whisper, breathlessly.

Jeongguk purrs, is just about to tease you and your stubbornness with something along the line of ‘Really? Thought it didn’t feel good, ___’. But he doesn’t get the chance because of how close the string in you is to snapping. How it’s pulled so taut that it has you near tears, that slow and steady come-up finally peaking.

“Oh my god, Gguk– my– my pussy’s gonna cum,” you cry quietly, legs shaking as you struggle to keep them open.

“Mhm, I told you, baby,” he hums, smug, “Let me see how good it feels.”

Your face is turned into your shoulder, but you nod for him. Focusing on the ruining, slow, consistent rubbing of his thumb. The pleasure is so mind-numbingly good that, as much as you want to cum, you try to make it last as long as possible.

Which isn’t much longer at all, only a few more vertical swipes over your clit is all you can handle before you’re mewing a soft warning and cumming so hard your body convulses.

“That’s my girl. So pretty, baby. Did so good; always such a good girl for me,” Jeongguk praises, full of lust-filled awe as he watches you finish. He feels your clit pulsing under his thumb and he sees your cunt squeezing repeatedly around nothing and now he that he’s not preventing it, he sees how your pussy cums– leaking everything that he tucked away and dripping down to your sheets. Making a mess like he knew it would.

He continues to rub your clit until your body twitches, curling in on yourself as you close your legs and bring them to your chest. Wrapping your arms around the backs of your knees and pulling your legs to your chest, you curl into yourself for protection as Jeongguk moves to shed himself of the rest of his clothes. Then he sits on his heels while he watches you, amused.

Even though you’ve made a great attempt at hiding your pussy away, with the way you’re positioned it still peeks out from between your thighs. Puffy and shiny.

You’re on your back with your eyes closed, still catching your breath. The feel of Jeongguk’s hands on you makes you jump, and when his touch moves form the backs of your thighs closer to your sensitive cunt, you whine, kicking at his arms weakly.

“Shh,” he murmurs, “I won’t touch, I just want to look.”

Somewhat soothed by his words, you begin to shift to a more relaxed position but Jeongguk pushes your legs back together and your knees back to your chest.

You gripe at being manhandled. “What if I want to see, too?”

“You don’t need to see if I tell you what I see,” Jeongguk reasons.

“It’s mine,” you argue.

“Ours,” he corrects.

After telling Jeongguk that he’s dumb and asking him to please shut up, both of you dissolve into a fit of laughter. When you kick again, trying to get his shoulder as punishment, he gets a grip on your leg before you can land the hit and he kisses your ankle. You sigh.

It’s quiet, and you’re content letting Jeongguk pet at you, listening as he tells you about what he sees. He says cute a few times. Wet, messy. His fingers brush over your folds, even plumper than before, and you can feel the sticky wetness that stays behind when he moves his touch to somewhere else.

When he uses his thumbs to part your pussy lips, you hear him whine. The breathy noise makes you grin, and you hum lightly.

“Still cute?” you ask aloud. Eyes on the ceiling, smile still on your lips.

Jeongguk knows he said he wouldn’t touch, but he doesn’t think you’re too sensitive anymore. He still bypasses your clit just in case when he slowly runs his fingertip to your opening. When he presses into the second knuckle, you moan sweetly and the sound mixes with the audible wetness. There’s a crystalline string still attached to his finger when he pulls away.

“Mhmm,” Jeongguk hums, answering your question. “But so messy.”

You bite your lip when Jeongguk slips his finger in again, a little father this time.

“Clean me up, then,” you whisper, airy and wispy.

Jeongguk hums and when you look to the sound, you can see him peeking at you over your bent knees that are still pulled to your chest. He scrunches his nose at you cutely, and you mirror the curve of his lips.

“I guess I should, since I’m the one who made you make such a mess,” he hums, like he’s mulling it over. But the fact that he does so while lowering his face to your cunt shows that he’s already made his decision.

In this position, you can’t see him and it makes you tense in anticipation while you wait.

Jeongguk knows it’s a little mean to keep you waiting, but he can see you so perfectly like this. Can see how you’re trying control your arousal and calm yourself down with deep breaths. He can see how it’s not working.

“You’re shaking,” he observes dreamily.

Your pussy leaks and he watches that glossy slick drip down. He uses his pointer finger to play with the droplet at your hole, swirling the dewiness around the cinched muscle.

The sigh you let out is stuttered, and your hole clenches under his touch before you force yourself to relax again. You swallow your embarrassment before you admit, “I want it really bad, Gguk.”

You sound like you’re close to crying and Jeongguk soothes you with wet kisses on your thighs.

“All you have to do is ask, baby,” Jeongguk tells you gently. His kisses move till they’re right next to your pussy, his tongue poking out to lick just outside your folds. His thumbs pull you open and he blows lightly.

“Oh my god,” you whimper.

Jeongguk’s voice is full of flirty, mirth when he asks, “What do you say? Hmm?”

The heartbeat in your cunt is the only thing you can focus on. The pulsing is so loud and strong that it drowns everything else out. You don’t even really hear it when you sigh a hazy, “Please, sir.”

Predictably, your words go straight to his cock. But weirdly enough, he also feels them in his heart? He can’t explain it but somehow the lust thrumming through him melts into something fond? A lovesick impulse has him opening your legs so he can slot himself in between.

He doesn’t lay on you but holds himself above on a braced arm. His free hand comes up to cup your cheek as he looks at you. The corners of your eyes are damp, confirming the tears he thought he had heard in your voice earlier. Your lips are redder and a bit swelled, probably from you pulling them between your teeth.

Jeongguk kisses the corner of one eye, then the other, and then your lips. His thumb glides over your cheekbone. He sounds gentle when he says, “No ‘sir’ today, okay? Just Gguk.”

You nod in his hold.

“Good girl,” he smiles, soft and sweet. “I’ll clean you up now, won’t tease you anymore.”

You breathe a relieved sigh as Jeongguk kisses all the way down your tummy and you think about how good it’s going to feel, after all this time, to have his mouth all over your cunt. To feel his tongue licking into you, deep and slow. To feel his lips wrapping around your clit with light sucks.

The closer Jeongguk gets to your pussy, the harder it is to keep still. He smiles as you squirm and you can feel it in the juncture of your inner thigh where his mouth has strayed. It’s not too long before he gets back on track, kissing his way to your pussy till his lips are tucked between your plush folds and the tip of his tongue is circling your clit.

Your mouth drops open in a silent moan as you sit up, resting on your elbows to watch him. Just the sight of him is enough to make the first surge of heat curl in your belly. He’s got his eyes closed, lashes sitting pretty on the highs of his cheek as he licks at you. Cleaning you up and making a mess of you all at once.

“You look so pretty,” you whisper as you card a hand through his hair, pushing the stands off his forehead and out of his face.

Without stopping his tongue, Jeongguk glances up at you, his eyes half-lidded and hazy. He moans pleased and happy into your pussy. Only pulls away for a second to whisper a cute ‘thank you’.

His tongue is busy and so are his hands, running them up your body. When he gets to your tits, he’s harsh. Digging in and squeezing with palms that are just as greedy as his mouth. He uses the hold he has on them to pull himself closer, push his tongue deeper. The harshness of his touch makes you hiss, the hand you have in his hair tugging.

Jeongguk’s eyes roll back a little before he loosens grip, squeezing your tits once more, gently this time, as an apology. Then he’s smoothing his palms along your waist till one’s wrapped around your thigh and the other’s resting on your tummy.

He pulls away briefly to look at you, offering a sheepish grin before he pecks just above your slit. The hand he has on your belly absently fiddles with your bellyring.

“Sorry,” he says, “I just– I don’t know, I didn’t notice how rough I was being.”

You hum while you rest your feet on his back and wiggle your toes.

“I think I’ve just been wanting you for so long…” He turns his head and nuzzles into your leg by his head, his hair tickling the sensitive skin. “And now that I have you, I–” His lips graze your inner thigh with every word and when he’s at the softest part, he bites gently.

On a sigh, you ask, “You what?”

Resting where his teeth just were, he tilts his head, looking up at you. “It’s hard for me to control myself. I just– can’t get enough of you.” His words are said with a sigh and uttered in between roaming wet kisses.

After he promises he’ll be more careful with you, he begins to lick broad stripes over your cunt. When you spread your legs wider, you can feel the flat of his tongue against your clit. But it’s just slightly, just a brush of his tongue.

“My clit,” you moan, looking down your nose at him, “Play with my clit.”

He hums, pulling back a little. With your legs parted so wide, your pussy lips are spread just enough for him to see the little bud. He watches you as he uses the very tip of his tongue, flicking repeatedly over the sensitive spot just under your hood.

Your brows pinch and your legs twitch as they naturally try to inch close, the feel of Jeongguk’s tongue so good and so much that your body is already on the verge of being overwhelmed.

“Ah– yeah, like that, Gguk,” you sigh letting your head roll back, basking in how good he’s making you feel, “Keep licking my pussy like that.”

Your eyes lull shut while you let him make you feel good, and it’s then that you notice his hand on your tummy is still toying with your piercing. It’s distracting only for a moment, only before you realize that every time he does something to your clit with his tongue, he does the same to the dangly part of the jewelry with his fingers.

When Jeongguk circles your clit, he twirls the charm. When he licks up and down over your clit, the little heart gets flicked too. When he suctions his lips and sucks your clit in and out of his mouth, he tugs gently on your belly ring.

You can’t be sure if he’s doing it on purpose. One part of you thinking the patterns match up too well for it to be unconscious, the other part thinking it could just be an absentminded coincidence. You also can’t be sure why the nuanced touches are making the pleasure in your gut curl so tight; burn so hot.

“Gguk– you’re gonna make me cum again…” you drone, lustdrunk.

He smiles while his tongue continues to lick lightly. “Am I?”

While looking down your body at him, you nod. Your body already pulling taut with the tension that always preludes your orgasms.

Jeongguk’s lips wrap around your clit and he gives a quick sucking kiss before he pulls away with a little pop! sound. “Not yet, I’m not done cleaning you up.”

Groaning, you throw your head back. “You said you weren’t gonna tease anymore.”

“I did,” he confirms, his big palms finding the backs of your thighs and pushing them back, “But not so you could cum– so I could clean up your mess–”

“Your mess–”

“Our mess,” he amends, the tips of his fingers straying to the newly exposed parts of you. Jeongguk brushes over your hole, and you suck in a small gasp. “You’re messy here too, baby.”

Whining softly, you squirm as Jeongguk presses light, sucking kisses into your skin and there’s a subconscious urge to close your legs to keep him from getting where he so clearly intends. At the first signs of subtle hesitance, you feel his hands hold your legs open more firmly

“Let me?” he breathes, “Please?”

And something about how his voice is so soft –hazy and dreamy and full of so much lust and desire– has you relaxing, giving in. Docile and pliant in his hands.

You suppose some things may never change.

The first feel of his tongue tasting you where no one has before makes you exhale a shaky sigh. Your hole puckering under the featherlight licks he gives. When he circles the cinched muscle, your mouth falls open and you look down your body and between your open legs to where Jeongguk already has his eyes on you.

His eyes get little puffs under them when he sees your reaction and smiles. The confusedly pleasured pinch of your brows. The tense way your hands grip the sheets under you.

Giving your cheek a quick peck, he asks, “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

It makes the memory of him –hot and hard and leaking with your tongue on his hole– flash in your mind. It reminds you that he knows what he’s doing to you, that he knows he’s making you feel good because you made him feel the same way. Sure the anatomy’s different, but a tongue is a tongue and a hole is a hole.

In lieu of being difficult, you answer him with a moan; with your head hitting your pillows again.

That’s confirmation enough for Jeongguk as he echoes your moan with his own. He wraps his lips around the tight muscle in a nasty wet kiss and then drags his tongue up and along your leaking center till he’s at your clit where he plays until he works you into a whiny mess.

You’re tensing, and he can feel how your body shifts as your chest expands with the deep breaths you’re taking. Like you’re trying to focus and keep yourself earthbound by delaying the impending high.

It’s a high that’s inevitable though, and you have a warning on the tip of your tongue only for it to go to waste when Jeongguk makes his way down again as soon as he senses it.

And he repeats this– alternating between rimming you tauntingly and eating you till he can tell you’re right on the edge. You can feel how he smirks and you’re sure it’s amusement that you can hear prettying up little noises he purrs. His continuous teasing has you letting out barely contained whiny keens.

But Jeongguk can tell you’re doing your best to behave. The brattish way about you from before is nowhere to be seen. Not even when he feels your body slump for the nth time, panting from another almost-orgasm he takes away.

“You’re gonna cum aren’t you?” Jeongguk wonders aloud, pulling back a little to see how your pussy clenches in anticipation.

He hears you swallow, flicks his eyes up to watch as you bring a hand up to tug a little at your hair. It trembles a little as you bring it down to his locks.

“I- yeah… just… please…” You tug, pulling him to your clit by the crown of his head and holding him there with both hands. “Just stay there, please…”

You can’t help the way that you start to roll and grind against his face. Jeongguk’s lips and his tongue rubbing against you repeatedly with the up and down motion of your hips, and his nose bumping your clit a little every now and again.

His hands dig into your waist like he’s trying to pull you closer, suffocate himself with your cunt. It’s when he shakes his head with subtle little side to side motions over your clit that your pleasure peaks with your legs shaking before they’re closing around his head.

You cum hard and quietly, hushed ‘don’t stop’s and ‘keep going’s tumbling from your lips as you hold his mouth against you until you can’t take it anymore. You use one hand to pull him away by the hair, your other coming down to press against your still pulsing pussy.

With the hold you still have in his hair, you deliriously guide and maneuver him upwards. You’re still trying to catch your breath, so the quiet awed, ‘Whoa…’ you voice sounds airy

The position you’ve got Jeongguk in now has him straddling you across your upper torso with strong thighs caging you in. His cock bobbing a little right in your face. Heavy and flushed, the tip an angry shade of pink and shiny with precum. It’s instinctive when you reach out with your small hand to wrap around the base. And again, something awe-filled tumbles from your mouth.

“You’re so hard…”

The words float past your lips in the form of a breathless whisper, your lashes fluttering as your gaze jumps from his cock to his face. Your hand strokes lightly, just your fingertips running over the warm, silky skin.

“Missed you,” Jeongguk says with a tiny, unabashed shrug. As if that’s explanation enough for the state he’s in.

He smiles with his bottom lip tugged between his teeth and you smile back.

The pad of your thumb rubs at the underside of the crown when a drop of precum leaks, massaging it in messily. “Can I use my mouth?”

“Mhmm,” Jeongguk sounds, not trusting his voice enough to not shake.

You begin by placing weighted kisses along his length, starting at the base till your lips pucker around the slit. The heady taste of precum makes you purr, moaning softly. Jeongguk’s hips cant forward, and when you glance up you can see how his head has rolled back.

Smiling at how affected he already is by the smallest things, you run your teeth over the sensitive head. You anticipate the hiss that Jeongguk sucks in. Your tongue swirls around to soothe and to taste before your mouth opens to swallow.

The tip of his cock barely grazes the back of your throat before Jeongguke is pulling his hips back and choking just slightly on the whiny gasp that gets caught in his throat. He threads a hand in your hair and tugs you off.

Your forehead is resting against his lower tummy, and you giggle a little before you kiss at the slight jutting of his hipbone. His cock throbs, and he groans.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, smiling into him.

You can feel his fingers massage lightly at your scalp, and when you glance up at him, he’s looking down at you, lovesick as he rolls his eyes at your playfully.

“Go slow, okay?” he asks softly, “Tease me a little?”

Closing your eyes briefly as you let the sound of his moonstruck voice wash over you, you kiss sweetly at his hip once more before giving small kitten licks to the warm, flushed skin of his cock. He sighs like he’s in love.

“Like this?” you ask, coquettishly.

Jeongguk nods when you look up at him with your mouth open and the tip of your tongue flicking lightly.

“Lick the tip,” he whispers while he gets a hold of himself and guides it to your mouth.

You keep your eyes on him as you slowly drag the flat of your tongue with long licks.

“Good… that’s good baby…” he says airily.

Jeongguk glances down his nose at you for just a moment longer before his head is rolling back, and he’s moaning. His little sounds are quiet, but they’re almost constant. And you’re really not doing much, just licking softly at his frenulum, but you can already feel how his cock is getting stiffer, can see how the muscles in his tummy tense and untense… like he’s already getting close.

Kissing the crown, you pull away, stroking over him lazily. Squeezing at the base when he kicks in your palm. “Already?” you ask gently.

Jeongguk’s eyes are squeezed shut, like he’s trying to keep his composure, but at your choice of words, he laughs lightly. “Yes, already,” he tells you, pointedly. “That’s why I said to go slow.”

Slow is good for you. Slow lets you take it all in. Take all of him in.

Slow lets you tease drop after drop of precum out; lets you coax your name from Jeongguk’s lip over and over again until you’re sure you’ll hear his lovechants in your dreams tonight. Slow lets you memorize the way that his hands twitch wherever they touch you, how he gasps when your tongue does something that feels extra nice, how he whines when you bring your free hand up and roll his balls in your palm.

He’s a bit predictable, endearingly so with the blush on his cheeks as he urges the hand toying with his balls a little farther back. You smile to yourself as you touch him, rubbing at his taint and taking a moment to just watch his face.

Jeongguk’s eyes are shut, mouth just barely parted. His brows pinch just slightly when you inch your touch farther back and the cinched muscle clenches briefly under your fingertips, before he relaxes. It’s light and hazy when he whispers, “Yeah, baby…”

The light circles you’re tracing around Jeongguk’s hole have his cock throbbing. You have to wrap your lips around the head to keep him still enough to taste and properly tease, sucking with tiny bobs of your head as you drink down everything he leaks.

“I– ___, oh my god–” Jeongguk pants, looking down at you, like he can’t believe you or your mouth, can’t believe how good it feels to have you again.

You hum, lips still wrapped around the tip of his cock as you smile up at him as best you can. His chest expands with a sharp inhale when you press your fingers a littler firmer against his hole.

“Want me to put them in?” you ask between the soft open-mouthed kisses you press to his cock.

The sound that Jeongguk lets out makes your kisses cease and has you sinking your teeth into your bottom lip. Your thighs rub together, and your pussy is needy between them.

Jeongguk’s never done it before, at least not fully and with someone else. But the thought alone is almost enough to make him finish. It would be a first for you and him, together. Something he’s been wanting, craving.

He’s still trying to get his thoughts in order when you prompt him with a patient, ‘Hmm?’.

“I- No, no–” he ends up saying, “Just– just play with me.”

It’s sighed, laced with lust and contentment. Having you right now, just playing as he said, is more than enough for him. The anticipation does feel nice though, hot and sweet like a whispered promise of next time. Jeongguk wonders if you’ll ruin him.

“You just want me to play?” you ask, “You don’t want to cum?”

And Jeongguk’s sure you will. Ruin him, that is. If you haven’t already.

Your voice comes out lovily teasing, and your hands stay busy while you look up at him, eyes big and so pretty. Lips glossy with spit, maybe a little bit of his precum.

“Not– not yet?”

Jeongguk’s voice sounds unsure in your ears, and his actions contradict his words when you bring your lips to his leaking tip. His hips roll forward seemingly on their own accord, the most sensitive part of his cock rubbing against your tongue that you’ve pillowed underneath the crown.

A choked little whine falls from his open mouth before his head is lulling back and his hands are coming to your hair. Humming, you suction your lips around the head and bring the hand you don’t have busy to his hips, urging him to keep rocking his hips, slow so you can keep the pressure from your tongue constant.

“Oh my god– baby… baby–” Jeongguk moans, his gaze back on you. His brows furrowed and arched up, his mouth agape.

Under your touch, you can feel his muscles tense. How his breaths come out huffed and strained. How he sometimes tries to pull his hips away before he pushes them in like he rethought it, maybe like he never meant to. How no matter how hard he tries to keep from doing it, the stalling pace of his hips picks up.

And you can tell he’s going to cum.

He keeps muttering these fucked out little whispers of your name, of baby, of my baby. Almost like they’re warnings, maybe pleas. But not pleas for you to stop, or tease him anymore. You can hear the difference, can feel it in the way he touches you. Can taste it on your tongue with every heavy drop of precum that he’s leaking.

It’s like a string snaps in him, when he groans something deep and dissonant and his hips stop all together and his hold in your hair turns almost painful as he uses his grip to work your mouth over his cock.

“Yeah,” he breathes, “Don’t fucking stop… Gonna make me fucking cum–”

His cock is throbbing in your mouth before he even finishes his sentence. Coating your tongue in so many thick, hot shots of white. You hum, moving your fingers from massaging his taint so that you can roll his balls in your palm.

Jeongguk’s hand is shaking a little when he brings it down to cup your face, when he gently pulls you off him. His cock still fat and bobbing with the aftershocks of his orgasm. He guides your gaze to his.

He’s bracing himself above you with his forearm against your headboard, looking down at you a little sweaty and so flushed. Chest rising and falling with deep breaths. He’s got a little smile on his face when he runs the pad of his thumb over the plump of your bottom lip. Your mouth opens instinctively. The little smile on his lips grows before he’s biting it down.

His thumb presses down on the fleshy muscle, and you naturally let your lips wrap around it.

“Good girl,” he says, softly.

His words are tangible, and you close your eyes and you smile as you just let the praise glide over your body. It’s almost like you can feel each letter press a kiss into your skin.

Jeongguk’s a copycat as he too presses kisses here and there while he resituates himself. Going from straddling your ribcage to finding his home between your legs. Until you manuver him once more. He’s still home, between your legs, but on his back with you straddling him now.

Jeongguk doesn’t complain at the manhandling. Just looks up at you, rubs little nonsensical patterns just above the creases of your thighs.

“Can we do it now?”

His laugh is bright and loud at first before he gets a hold of himself, but he’s still smiling as he lets his shining eyes and his hands wander. His fingertips trialing over your skin until his gets his hands to your tits. His thumbs flick over your nipples while he hums, amused.

“Now you have to wait for me to be ready again,” he tells you conversationally, still teasing you.

You pout playfully, letting your own fingers explore, tracing the line of ink where his sleeve comes to an end on his shoulder. “So boring, Gguk,” you jest.

He scrunches his nose at you. “Why do you think I told you, ‘not yet’?”

Rolling your eyes, you reposition yourself; less over his torso and more over his hips. “Well,” you start, lowering your pussy down to where his cock lays flat on his tummy, “Waiting doesn’t have to be boring.” You drag your cunt over his still plump, but not-quite hard cock.

One of his hands quickly jerks down to get a hold of your hips and stop your movements. He hisses..

He says something about how he never said it had to be boring as you reach between your bodies and get a hold of his half-hard cock. Goes on about how he literally just came and how he needs a second to recuperate as you bring the head to your wet opening.

“Can I?” you ask vaguely, interrupting him.

He doesn’t say anything more, just gives you the littlest nod and he squeezes his eyes shut while you squeeze him into you. He’s not there yet, but he’s still sensitive and its still a tight fit.

Jeongguk looks down his chest to where you’re sitting prettily on his slowly hardening cock. His eyes roll back slightly before he’s scrubbing one of his hands over his face. “You’re–”

“Did you watch our video?” you interrupt again.

Stuttering a little bit, and winching some, Jeongguk uses the couple of seconds it takes for you to bring yourself down to him, to think.

“No, felt guilty… tried to hold out completely but ended up giving in and thinking about you…” he says, his hands finding their place at your hips..

His answer isn’t what you expected but it still has you smiling softly, chest to chest, resting on your elbows, and playing with his hair. “And what did you think about?” you muse, words breathy and flirty.

Jeongguk’s eyes instinctively dart to your curved lips. “Your mouth.”

You scrunch your nose at him cutely as you ask, “On your cock?”

He gasps when you grind your hips just a little, the movement stiffening his cock up that much more. Jeongguk can feel his cheeks heat up as he shakes his head, the hands he has on your hips moving to your thighs and then back up, squeezing and making little chills crawl across your skin.

“On my lips…” he admits quietly, licking them. “Missed kissing you.”

With a heart that grows fond in your chest, you lean down and give what he missed. Jeongguk sighs into your mouth, melts underneath you. He cranes his neck and the kiss deepens, his tongue slipping in between your lips. It’s not until you having him moaning softly into your mouth that you disconnect from him and make your way to his ear.

“Thought about you too,” you tell him, “touched myself to the thought of you missing me; wrapping your hand around your cock with me on your mind.”

Jeongguk’s fingertips dig into the fatty part of your ass, latches his lips onto the junctre between your neck and your shoulder. He sinks his teeth in just a touch to quiet his moan.

The whiny moise that you let out precedes the, “I fanatasized about the way you would fuck me when you came back to me–”

“I wanted to, but I just felt so bad–”

“Shh,” you hush him, “Doesn’t matter now…”

You finally make to move your hips for real this time, but lifting them has you letting out a tiny hiss of pain that’s followed by a cute, airy laugh. “Almost forgot how big you are.”

Jeongguk’s heart was just tugging inside his chest but now his cock is throbbing inside of you. Even as he wonders if there’s been anyone since him.

But once you get over that first hint of pain, past the initial sting of him stretching and filling you up, the only wonder is how Jeongguk survived without you for so long.

The light from your blinds peaks through your hair; wild and messy and draping over your shoulder. The long strands almost act as a curtain, hiding you and Jeongguk away. Spots of sunshine come through here and there, and they hit different parts of your body as your body becomes his body. On the tip of your nose, over the curve of your breast, the tops of your thighs.

And Jeongguk’s knows he is so fucking lucky. Not because he gets to have you like this –warmed by his touched and sunlight– but because he gets to have it again. Because he gets another chance at having you at all, after fucking it up once already.

“Gguk,” you pant, “I feel so good right now.”

You’ve gone from bouncing on his cock, to griding on it, feeling his tip rub against the deepest parts of you. Your palms are flat on his lower tummy, and when he grabs your hips, helping you move back and forth on him, your nails dig into the muscle.

It makes him moan, quiet like the little sounds that you can’t stop making.

Jeongguk knows he was basically on the verge of tears just a second ago, but he is still a man and he can’t stop himself from asking, “Who’s making you feel so good baby?”

He can tell how fucked out and how close you are because of how easily you answer him. How being stubborn and bratty doesn’t even seem to cross your mind when you moan, “You, it’s always you.”

Pulling you to his chest and fucking up into your cunt is much sweeter than it probably seems. He does so to be close to you, to feel your chest against his, to feel how your body shakes as you get closer, to feel how you bury your face into his neck to try and muffle your moans and cries.

“Yeah–” you sob into his skin, “you’re gonna make me cum– please– please, can I cum?”

Your words come out staccato and irregular, punched out one by one by his cock as he fucks you faster. But Jeongguk doen’t say anything yet, just focuses on the slick sounds your pussy is making everytime he bottoms out, on the feeling of his cock sliding in and out of the slick, velvety heat, on how his fingers sink into your ass as he squeezes and tugs and pulls your cheeks apart to bury himself as deep as he can when he cums with you.

“Fuck, baby cum for me,” Jeongguk pants, his words a little rushed as he feels it all come to a head, “Cum all over my fucking cock while I cum in your pussy.”

You don’t say anything when you cum, and neither does Jeongguk. Both cumming with nothing but gasps. Your’s sounding sweet, almost awed, as you just let your cunt squeeze and contract around Jeongguk’s cock, almost like you forgot you could cum that hard. Jeongguk’s are more guttural as his cock throbs, pulsing with each shot of cum he pumps into your pussy.

~~~

“Your roommates are actually terrifying.”

The voice makes you smile, laughing sleepily, eyes closed for just a moment longer before you turn your head to see a dishevelleddly dressed Jeongguk, holding a single glass of water in his hand.

He shrugs off his blazer that he’s wearing over his briefs (you’ve helped yourself to his button up), and sits next to where you’re laying down. He nudges you his foot till you sit up and take the water from him.

It’s a content type of quiet while you both pass the glass back and forth, sharing. It only last for a minute or two before Jeongguk is clearing your throat.

“So… what happened to your plant, hmm?”

He must have seen the pitiful looking succulent in your living room when he went to get the water. And you know he’s just messing around and that he only said it to strike conversation and fill the silence, but still, it makes something ugly stir in your gut.

“You didn’t remind me,” you say, trying to literally shrug it off and give the topic a quick stop.

But Jeongguk is giggling as he says back, “Oh, so it’s my fault?”

“Everything is your fault.”

It’s snappy and said with enough bitterness that Jeongguk is physically taken aback. But then he thinks and then he softens.

“Hey,” he says gently.

You look at him, eyes swirling with a mixture of anger and hurt.

Jeongguk brushes a little bit of your hair out of your face as he looks you over. “I know,” he acknowledges quietly. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am, but I hope with some time, you’ll be able to see it.”

You frown a little before giving him a sad small smile and you bring your hand up to cup his cheek. He turns into the touch and gives your palm a soft kiss.

“I know you’re sorry,” you tell him, “I know you are and I forgive you –my head knows that but– my heart is still sad.”

Something about how you say it reminds Jeongguk of how young you are. But not in the way it did before. Not like your youth is a burden, or a red flag. It just reminds him that he needs to be careful with you.

“I know, and that’s okay… I know it’s going to take time,” Jeongguk gives you a sad, yet understanding shrug.

And for once, it’s a good thing that time does what time is meant to. It passes and it allows things to grow; for things to heal.

“Speaking of time,” you say, lightheartedly trying to change the subject, “How long do I have you?”

“As long as you want me.”

Jeongguk’s reply is met with the most underwhelmed, flat stare you have every given him. He snorts before he says, “Till tomorrow afternoon– I have to pick up Nari.”

His heart feels like it’s going to explode in his chest when he sees how your eyes light up at the mention of his daughter, at how you jabber on with questions about her. How has she been?, Is she talking yet?, Does she still have that narwhal?

There’s a chance that he might regret it, but there’s also a chance that he might not.

So he asks, “Do you want to come with me?”

~~~

However long Jeongguk said it takes to get to his ex-wife’s house, all those months ago, escapes you.

But right now, it feels like 10 years and 10 minutes all at once.

It’s dramatic, yes, how terribly you’ve been fidgeting in the passenger seat of the Mercedes. Even Jeongguk’s big, warm hand petting at your knee can’t quell the nerves.

It’s making the atmosphere tense, and you feel bad when Jeongguk sounds like he’s walking on eggshells when he tells you, “Thank you for coming with me, I’m really happy you did.”

You feel even worse when you respond with, “I don’t think I want to go to the door with you.”

The ever-soothing hand on your leg stutters for barely a second before continuing just as it was.

“That’s totally fine,” he assures you, eyes on the road and one hand on the steering wheel. “You don’t have to, but if you change your mind, you can. It is your choice.”

The hand squeezes your thigh reassuringly.

And it’s quiet for the rest of the drive. Until Jeongguk is pulling into an empty spot in the driveway of a very big, very nice house. Right next to a Porsche.

“Of fucking course.”

“___.”

“No, you’re right,” you say, raising your hands appeasingly, “You’re right, I shouldn’t even be surprised–”

Jeongguk interrupts you with his hands on your cheeks and his lips on your.

“Shut.” He gives you one kiss. “Up.” He gives you two kiss.

His affection makes the tension in your body dissipate and your shoulders slump. “I’m sorry.”

With his thumbs rubbing over the apples of your cheeks, he gives you a small, understanding, patient smile. Then he asks if you’re sure about not coming to the door with him because he is stupid.

You tell him as much as you reiterate how you do not want to go to the door and this time, Jeongguk is the one raising his hands in surrender as he exits the car.

Leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Should you get out of the car? Wait inside? Should you have brought Nari a gift? Will she remember you? What if she doesn’t?

When you hear a distant, familiar baby-giggle, you end up opening the door and standing between Jeongguk’s car and Dasom’s. You feel a little dumb until you hear the pitter patter of little feet on the brick driveway.

“I have a surprise for you Nana,” you hear Jeongguk sing cutely.

And you hear Nari gasp excitedly in response, even cuter.

As the pair get closer, you can see Jeongguk’s top half over the car, how his arm is swinging back and forth because of the tiny hand that’s holding his where you can’t see.

Nari is dressed in a black jumper dress with a long-sleeved heart-patterned shirt on underneath when she pops out from behind the car and next to her dad. Kept warm from the slight chill in the air by her knitted tights and her teeny-tiny ugg boots. She’s still round, but she’s gotten taller and you coo softly to yourself.

But Nari hears the little noise you make and when she sees you, she stops in her tracks. Her little bobble head looking between you and Jeongguk. Then she’s tugging on her dad’s pinky that she’s got a hold of.

“___!” she says as she nods towards you, like she’s letting Jeongguk know that you’re right there. She sounds sure, almost a little bossy. Doesn’t stutter even a second to remember you. Kind of like she never forgot you.

“Ah– what’s with the nodding missy?” Jeongguk tuts, then he looks at you and shakes his head exasperated yet amused.

Nari has the nerve to giggle, a big girl no longer brought to tears by her daddy’s scoldings. She looks up at him grinning before she shrugs, like she doesn’t know what got into her. As she raises her little shoulders, her free hand comes up too for emphasis. And gripped tightly in her little hand is her stuffed narwhal.

You’re happy.

~~~~~~~~~

aaaaand SCENE. omg heyyyy long time no see girlfriends <3 i hope that u think this was worth the wait but am debilitatingly scared that it did not meet ur expectations so i am hiding <3 im sorry for how long it took but it is here now n that is all my tiny hands have to offer!! i would love to know what u thought, so please do al the things: reblog, like, comment, send an ask~~ thank u for waiting for me and for reading ily muah :*

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cheonstapes · 11 months

Text

geto suguru stars in... 'CHOKE ME OUT' (☆_@)

a/n ~ thinkin about when kenjaku was drooling as he choked himself...yeaaaaaaaa

summary; play fighting with your man leads to some...interesting discoveries.

wc; 700+

pairing; geto suguru x reader

cw; SMUT!!, m!masturbation, choking kink, switch!geto, switch!reader, thigh kink, cumplay, they tussle a lil, geto wants reader to suffocate him basically, nawt proofread - surprise!!

you knew your boyfriend was 100 times stronger than you, but that didn’t stop you from trying.

he always went easy on you anyway, he sees you as his delicate little princess - he doesn’t want to hurt you — but he still always won. that is what made you wanna take him down even more. you were standing on opposite sides of the room, circling each other all predator like. “c’mon baby, you scared?” fuck no. in fact, he didn’t know that you’d been training for this - you were gonna take. him. down.

“shut up, ‘guru.” you murmured, dipping behind the couch as you crawled on the floor to sneak up on him. “huh? the fuck are you doing?” he couldn’t help but laugh at how serious you were taking this, standing with his hands on his hips as he looked around for you. ok, now he was a bit lost. it’s like you no clipped through the floor, he couldn’t see you at all. “baby? where’d you-“

you suddenly sprung up from behind, jumping on his back. he let out a little gasp, gripping your thighs as they wrapped around his waist. “what-!” both of you fell onto the couch, his body shuffling down to try and get out of your grip. his hands pushed and prodded your thighs, trying to pry them from around his neck but they wouldn’t budge. you tightened them, grabbing his wrist in your smaller hands to restrain him further. “looks like you’re in a bit of a predicament, babe. you gonna give up?”

you knew you won, finally. his body relaxing slightly as he let out a small groan. snickering quietly as you let go of his wrist and peered over at his face. seeing him like that, was the last thing you expected. his face was flushed, eyes rolled back as drool slipped from his lips. the more you looked, the more desperate he got - his bulge fat and aching, twitching under the weight of your gaze. “fuck…stop- stop lookin’ at me like that.”

he’s never felt so turned on in his life. having his girl wrap her beautiful thighs around him, choking him out within a inch of his life was his biggest dreams — if he died in between your thighs, he would die a happy man. your smile was downright sinful as you realised what got your boyfriend so worked up - wrapping your legs even tighter around his thick neck. “oh-ho, you like this?” he nodded as best as he could, a hand slipping under his waistband to fish out his cock whilst the other roamed your thigh.

“harder, baby. need you to choke me with those sexy thighs of y’rs.” his large hand worked his cock, lips coming down to bite your flesh, sucking little red marks along them. he couldn’t believe this was happening. he could practically taste your slick pouring outta your cunt, you clearly liked it as much as he did or else you wouldn’t be so fucking wet. “harder? god, you’re such a masochist.”

his hips chased his fist like a madman, body trembling as he could feel himself getting lightheaded. the way you panted above him, your hips now starting to grind softly — searching for some kind of friction. you were just so cute, if he wasn’t about to pass out — he would eat you out like it was his last meal. “bout to cum, angel. s-shit, gonna bust ‘cause of your pretty fuckin’ thighs.”

his whines were so pretty. his hair tickled your skin as he writhed under you, veins in his hands bulging as he fucked his hand to completion. “fuuuck me! i love you, baby, so — so perfect f’r me.” thick ropes of gooey cum jetted out of his red tip, his thighs trembling and mouth salivating. the dopey grin he had when he looked at you melted your heart, and made your clit throb — you so badly wanted to suffocate him with your cunt till he was begged you to stop. he was too cocky for a guy who was just begging his girlfriend to choke him out.

he shuffled out of your grip as it loosened around his neck, raising a cum soaked hand in between your thighs — spreading his cum on the crotch of your panties.

“want me to choke you with my thighs now?”

“not a chance, suguru.”

-cmere ill let you choke me

#cheonstapes #cheonsshowreals 🤍#geto smut #geto x reader #geto suguru #jujutsu geto #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #geto suguru smut #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #geto suguru x y/n #jjk smut #jjk x reader #cheonstapes films!🪷

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ultralightpoe · 11 months

Text

Haunted Pub Crawl - Tangerine

Authors Note: HAPPY HALLOWEEN

Word Count: 774

Warnings: a lil violence

Description: Small halloween blurb.

This is apart of my Halloween event, stay tuned for a new story every hour!

Happy Halloween!

“This is so bloody fucking stupid.” Tangerine snaps, reaching a hand out to slap the jello shot Lemon had been holding without even having to turn around to see. “What fucking-”

“You agreed to come.” Lemon sighs, staring at the jello shot as his brother fixes his jacket beside him once more.

They are waiting by the bathroom in some dingy bar as the pub crawl worker calls for everyone to begin making their way to the front. Tangerine rolls his eyes, watching the woman dressed as a ladybug read off names off her clipboard.

You were in the bathroom behind him, and Tangerine reaches a hand to rap at the door quickly, not that it mattered since you were already on your way out with a drunken smile on your face.

“Hey baby, hey Lemon.” You greet, tripping forward as his hand shoots out to wrap around your waist tightly and keep you upright. You kiss as his cheek and leave a bit of lipstick behind in it’s wake before turning to grab at Lemon.

Tan leads you both to the front of the bar, nodding to the ladybug to let her know you were there before she begins to lead you all outside for the next bar. He keeps a tight hold on you and an eye out for his brother.

Parties like these were never really his style, but both the people he loved and cared about had begged to go and here he was, donning his best suit that made him look like he was from the 70s. Not that people really understood, because next to your 70’s supermodel they all only thought one thing.

The wind of the night whipped around you both and people in their costumes were passing your own group, whooping and hollering.

Some fucker in a toga blinks at you, smiling wide in a way that makes Tans chest tighten and his blood boil, images of breaking his jaw flashing through his mind.

“Pimp and hooker, fuck yeah!” Toga shouts, passing by. You blush a bit and Tan freezes, stopping completely. You look up at him with wide eyes, shaking your head.

“Tan, baby, it was just some drunk guy-”

“No lovey.” Tan sighs, making sure Lemon has a hold on you before whirling on his heels and whistling. “Hey, Frat fucker!”

The toga douche turns around. Mouth falling open in a comical way as he stares.

“The fuck did you say to my bird?!”

“I was complimenting your guys’ costumes. Chill man.”

“No I will not chill because you just referred to her as a fucking hooker! You stupid fuckin cunt!” He yells, marching up and hitting him square in the jaw in a way that has you gasping in the background.

The Toga Douche lands on the concrete beneath him with a quick thud, the crest of Tans ring etched onto his face.

“TAN!” You shout, seeing the cop car sitting down the block flash his light. Two sets of hands grab his arms, and then you three are off, dashing into the alleyway to meet out the otherside and hop a fence.

“Can’t we ever have one night of fun?!” You snap, tripping up a bit as you rush down a hill.

“He called you a fucki-”

“I heard. But I really didn’t care. He was just some douchebag in a toga.” You sniffle, swiping at your cheeks as he rushes to move your hands away from your face and do it himself.

“I care, because you’re my lovey and no one calls my lovey a hooker. Kay’?” He asks softly, kissing your forehead.

“Kay’.” You mumble, playing with the lining of his vest, kissing his chin. “But…. and don’t get mad. We kind of do look like-”

“Guys! The thomas halloween special is doing reruns on pbs!”

The next morning you are curled up on the couch, nursing a huge hangover, holding a cup of coffee as the news plays slowly in the background.

“-And reports from last night state that Kyle Harold, a young bartender had been attacked by a man. The attack was sudden and unexplainable.” The news reporter explains before they cut to the video of the interview.

“Yeah, I was walking past this friggin bar crawl thing and then this dude in a pimp costume just ran up and hit me.”

Your eyes snap up to the screen where the yoga douche from last night, sporting stitches and a black eye.

You can’t hear the rest of the interview, laughing too loud when Tan gets home and gives you a weird look. “What is so fucking funny?”

#tangerine #tangerine smut #tangerine angst #tangerine fluff #tangerine imagine #tangerine fic #tangerine fanfiction #tangerine bullet train #tangerine x y/n #tangerine x reader #tangerine x you #tangerine and lemon #bullet train tangerine #bullet train smut #bullet train x reader #bullet train fluff #bullet train angst #halloween #halloween fics

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7ndipity · 1 year

Text

Taking care of you

Jungkook x Reader

Summary: Jungkook taking care of his s/o after a rough day

Warnings: a lil bit of crying, but it's mostly just comfort & fluff

A/N: first off, we just 300 followers?! Thank you all so much! This was another lovely request from @tpiliper, I hope y'all like it! I'll also be trying to post several other requests this weekend.

Masterlist

Requests are open

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

You dragged yourself through the door of your apartment, movements slow and brain hazy from another exhausting day. The only coherent thought in your mind being the desire to crawl into bed and forget about everything for a few hours.

You'd barely kicked your shoes off before you felt two strong arms wrap around your waist.

"Hi." Jungkook mumbled, planting a small kiss against you neck. When you only hummed in response, he pulled back to look at you properly.

"Long day?" He asked, taking note of your tired eyes, to which you only nodded, too fatigued to elaborate at the moment.

"My poor baby." He cooed, taking your face in his hands and pressing a kiss to your lips before pulling you into a tight hug. Jungkook gave the best hugs; if it were up to you, you would never never leave his arms, forever wrapped in the sense of warmth and safety that only he could convey.

"How about you go grab a shower and I'll order us some food, okay?" He suggested.

"I'm too tired to wash up." You groaned against his shoulder.

"You'll only feel worse if you don't." He said pulling back and taking your hand, tugging you towards the bathroom. "C'mon."

He sat you down on the edge of the tub and carefully removed your makeup for you before gently helping you into the shower.

You don't know how long you stood under the warm stream from the shower, but by the time you finally emerged, now in pajamas, he already had food set up and waiting in the living room. He was quick to pull you to the couch, giving your hand a little squeeze before moving to sit on the floor in front of you.

"What are you doing? There's plenty of room up here." You said.

"I like sitting here." He defended.

"You like it because I play with your hair." You teased.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." He lied, flopping his head back as he spoke, so his hair brushed against you.

You weren't too far off with your comment, he did love it when you played with his hair, but also knew you loved it even more, having said before that you found it soothing to just sit and run your fingers through it, something he thought you might need at the moment.

The two of you slipped into a comfortable silence as you watched TV, with him coaxing you to eat a few bites of food here and there, when you began to feel all the emotions of the day that you'd been trying to push down starting to catch up to you.

At the sound of the first sniffle from you, Jungkook immediately whipped around.

"Baby? No no no, why are you crying?" He quickly moved to hold you as you cried. "It's okay, I've got you."

After a couple minutes, you calmed down. "I'm sorry." You said quietly.

"Don't apologize, everyone need to let it out sometimes." He said gently, wiping under your eyes. "You feel better?"

You nodded. "Thank you, for always taking care of me."

"Of course." He pressed another kiss to your temple. "Anytime."

You suddenly let out a yawn, making him chuckle.

"You wanna go to bed now?" He asked with a smile.

"Yes, please."

#jungkook fluff #jungkook reaction #jungkook scenarios #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook drabble #jungkook comfort #jungkook imagine #bts #bts scenarios #bts one shot #bts x y/n #bts x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x reader #bts requests #7ndipity

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setsugekka · 2 years

Text

❥just like magic (m)

↳ San is insatiable, and you are willing.

choi san x fem!reader — established relationship, explicit sexual content. [2.3k wc] cws: penetrative sex (no barrier method), a lil dominant san, dirty talk, creampie, light anal play, light choking (kinda not really), light humiliation, lil bit of rough sex.

Being with San was easy.

A man that seemed effortlessly just the right amount of any and everything — from the way strands of long, black hair would cross into his vision as he turned to glance at you with nothing but adoration in his eyes — to the way he would place his hands on you, not too delicately but not too rough (even when requested), always just right. The perfect amount of all things.

“Kiss me.”

Never a demand in spite of it sounding as much, fingers gently dipping under your skirt as you crawl into his lap with arms wrapping around his neck as if that be precisely where they’re meant to go, you barely notice him shifting your panties off to the side to allow him access to you as you settle into him more comfortably and with mouths pressed together.

Light nips against your lower lip and only the mere ghosting of his tongue against yours — his attention quite evidently on the goings on between both of your legs as you feel the delicate press of fingertips between your folds and seating themselves slowly inside of you with tender ease.

A heavy sigh into his mouth with both of yours ajar at the feeling — for you, the fullness of having him inside of you, and for him, the enamoring, comforting squeeze of your velvet walls encompassing his digits. Lips twisting upwards and into a bit of a devilish grin, San hums as he pulls back only enough to meet your own eyes with his — slightly hooded already with lust, with want, as his other hand snakes around to your behind to pull you even further against him — if there were any distance between the two of you before, the man was seemingly on a mission to close it.

“I’ve missed you, been so long,” he sighs into your lips before dragging them down your jaw and eventually the column of your neck. “Shouldn’t make me wait so long, don’t know what I’ll do.”

“What are you going to do?” You playfully question, the feeling of his fingers digging as deeply as they can into you as he preps you for a part of him that will offer you far more than his fingers could ever hope to offer.

In ways, you’re egging him on. An already insatiable man by his own admission, and as doting and moderate as he tend to be in all other engagements, you found it to be in the bedroom that he truly allow himself the room to take.

You’re a little interested in seeing how far that extends. Perhaps not tonight, and not in totality.

But an inherent curiosity about the ‘what if’ proposed to you after so many late night chats and sexting sessions.

“Trying to get me riled up?” He asks against the warm skin of your neck as he stretches you open to accommodate him sooner rather than later. “Want me to flip you over and fuck you into this couch cushion without a care? Hm?”

Come to think of it, sort of.

“I want you to do what you want to do,” you groan out, San’s teeth dragging against your neck as his fingers do the same to your insides. “Maybe I do.”

You always did get a kick out of playing a little bit coy.

But quicker than anticipated, San has you pushed up and off of his lap — only enough to pull his hand from you and brush you off to the side of him — chest down and lengthwise across the couch of his living room before he’s crawling back up and now settling atop you; straddling the back of your thighs just behind your ass as the sound of him fumbling with his belt jingles through the apartment and over the sound of a long since ignored sitcom on the television mounted upon the wall.

Shifting forward, San places a hand to the back of your neck, gently pressing you down and against the couch — a previously unexplored expression of dominance, in a way — it’s not rough, and it certainly doesn’t hurt or cause any interference to your breathing, but rather, a mental and visual display of power.

A man who has obviously dabbled in this before, and knows all of the right moves.

“Ah, I see, you could have just said so,” he whispers as he finally pulls the leather through the loops of his jeans and discards it on the ground next to where the both of you now lie. “Do you like this?” A gentle squeeze of his fingers to the sides of your neck from behind — questioning any and all transitions of this specific sexual encounter before carrying forward.

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Given the positioning, you don’t have much of a visual on the man behind you, but from the movement you can gather enough of what goes on: shifting off of you just enough to drop his pants to the floor before climbing back on top of you, it’s the warm, weight of his cock against the back of your thighs that truly is what begins to ignite the fire of lust within your gut — an anticipation of what he’s going to do, and how magnificent it almost certainly is going to be.

One hand still firmly planted on your neck (and presumably, without any intention of removing it from that place), San’s other hand begins pushing up the fabric of your skirt over your behind to expose the flesh of your ass, along with the ever so slight coverage offered by your panties — though, not for long, as deft fingers once again dip down between tightly shut legs to fish the fabric out and away from your already moistened pussy.

A single fingertip grazing up the slit of your outer labia, you hear him chuckle under his breath. “You’re so wet already.”

“You were just finger fucking me,” you whine out in response. It’s a half-hearted attempt at arguing against the inherent humiliation that the man sets out to impose upon you and your eagerness for him to fill you up. “Don’t be like that.”

“Are you ready for me, then?” He whispers out just as quickly, tone laced with hedonistic desire. “Ready to take me?”

You feel him shift once again, this time up and along the length of your legs to inch closer to your behind. Shortly thereafter, the familiar prod of the tip of his length against you from behind as he begins spreading you open to make room for him.

“Rather, shall I take you?”

It’s involuntary in reaction, the way you arch yourself up in an attempt to press yourself down and onto him — even without a verbal answer, the physical response evident enough in the way that your body begs to have yourself impaled upon him.

And he wouldn’t dare deny you what it is that you seek from him.

Slowly pressing his hips forward, San begins his smooth drive inside of you — no rush or urgency to the motion, and with no intention of forcing or jamming his way in, when met with the slightest bit of resistance, he slows, gently pulling from you and repeating the delicate push against your velvet walls all over again until finding himself fully flush against your behind — and you, filled to the brim with his cock, just to your liking.

“Feel good?” He sighs out from behind, barely withdrawing before just as mildly as before filling you. The sigh expelled from your lips reflexive as you once again attempt to push your hips back and against him to meet his thrusts, however benevolent they may be even now.

“Yeah,” you whisper against the cushion beneath you as your fingers curl into it all the same. “God, you feel so good.”

“I can tell, so needy for it the way you’re pushing into me.”

With that, a harder thrust against you and ever so slightly sending you up the length of the couch. You can’t help the moan that escapes your lips.

“Harder, San—”

Decidedly giving up the ruse and allowing yourself to fully succumb to your need for him, you’re thankful enough when the man opts out of answering back to the request with words and rather does so with actions — settling into a hard, steady pace into you — feeling every inch of the thickness of his shaft drag against your walls as the fingers still comfortably settled into your neck dig just that much more into the flesh there.

With no intention to cause pain, but instead, a rather implied articulation of power and domination over the submissive.

After all, domination and sadism be not one in the same.

The sound of skin meeting skin lewdly bouncing along the walls of the living space, mixing with your steadily growing moans and whimpers at the impact of him against you, San growls into the thrust as his free hand settles down atop the small of your back — keeping you steady for the relentless snap of his hips.

“Take me so well,” he huffs out between hard drives into you. “Gonna take my cum, too, right? Be so good for me and let me fill up this pussy? Do you think you’ve earned it?”

Dirty talking was nothing new for your sexual romps with the man, but this, this was a whole new level.

And it was twisting the arousal in your gut in ways you hadn’t ever imagined before.

“Y-yes, I’ve earned it,” you stutter out in response, in hopes that it’s enough to receive precisely what it is that the man is offering you. “I’ve earned it, please.”

“How about you cream around my cock and I’ll let you have it, huh?”

His voice so low and wicked when he says it that you can feel the way the words go directly to your cunt — clamping down hard around him as he never lets up his relentless drive to bring you over the edge. It certainly doesn’t take much, and you think it might be much faster than usual as your abdomen tightens and nails dig harder against couch cushioning that offers you nothing in return. You know that the man can tell as he fucks into you even harder and faster to get you there as your moans are reduced down to pathetic whines and whimpers at the promise of orgasmic release.

“Yeah baby, cum for me, god you’re so good for me, let me give you what you deserve.”

The praise in and of itself, you find, might be enough to do your head in.

With a sharp, high pitched whine you cum — San fucking you through it all the while and never relenting as you do. Showering you with hefty, filthy praise all the while as you have what you think might be the longest orgasm you ever have had.

And now, it’s his turn.

Impressive enough that he make it through your own high without cumming, but it’s not long after that his thrusts become shorter, more erratic, less evenly and fluidly paced as he hisses out expletives sandwiched between adoration and praise for you and how good you feel.

“You’re so pretty like this,” he begins, voice airy and throat dry as he does. “Stuffed full of my cock, can’t wait to see how you look full of my cum, too. You want that, baby?”

Your response comes out more akin to babbling, than a logical affirmation of such desires. Repeating over and over the same word, ’yes,’ and it’s then that San’s drive into you picks up once again — similarly to when he fucked you through your orgasm, but now in an effort to chase his own.

One long, drawn out, throaty groan as he buries himself as deep inside of you as he can, San cums hard — the throb and pulse of his painting your inner walls with ropes of his release so heightened to your senses as he gently falls forward and closer to meeting your back with his chest — catching himself instead with a palm planted firmly into the plushness just below you as he exhales heavy breaths in the afterglow of his orgasm.

The both of you take a few moments before immediately moving — not that you have all that much of a choice with San’s softening dick still nestled inside of your pussy as his cum begins to seep out at the loss of the same plugging that his thick, hard dick once offered — he chooses not to waste too much time, only granting himself a minute or so before hoisting himself back up into his fully, knelt position behind you and now pulling both of his hands down to your bottom to pry your cheeks apart gently.

Admiring his work.

Bringing a finger down, San dips his middle finger between your legs and wetting the tip with the mixture of both of your cum, he ever so gently slides it up at to the rim of your tightest hole — all the while and ever so slightly beginning to fuck into your messy, cummed in cunt all over again with cock that already begins to show life once again.

Feathering over the puckered hole to spread the wetness, he carefully and shallowly dips in just as the feeling of his cock beginning to press against your walls all over again starts to send your nerve endings into overdrive.

“What do you think?” He whispers with the same sinful tone that you feel you’ve had more than a little bit of responsibility in unlocking tonight. “Care to find out just how much of me you can take?”

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ hope you enjoyed! please check out my navigation for more (´｡• ᵕ •｡`)

—this is a oneshot, there will be no part 2.

#choi san smut #ateez smut #choi san x reader #choi san x y/n #choi san x you #ateez x reader #ateez x you #ateez x y/n #choi san fanfic #choi san imagines #choi san scenarios #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios

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cunt-dracula0 · 1 year

Text

𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐬/𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐬!!

pairing(s): implied billy loomis, stu macher, mickey altieri, randy meeks, tatum riley + sidney prescott x gn!reader

warning(s): none, just billy being a dick as per usual lol. some slight mentions of dog shelters. (if you’re anything like me it hurts your heart thinking about places like that)

BILLY

• Is this man necessarily a pet person? No.

• Billy will literally tell you to get a fucking grip if you cry over a fish..

THIS MAN IS AS BLUNT AS THEY COME. CMON NOW.

• He finds cats more peaceful than any other animals.

• He’d much rather a kitty cat being able to snuggle with him than a dog drooling all over the place..

(This most certainly changes the minute you show him the crazy ass cat compilations 😭)

• Billy hates nothing more than people giving pets (dogs specifically) the most dumbass names. Buddy, Max, Milo, you know where i’m getting at, lol.

• If you have a baby lizard, he actually enjoys sitting holding the little creature as it slowly moves around on his hand. (I LOVE LIZARDS SM MAN)

• Though this is him if any animal comes into your room and pisses him off:

• OH BILLY BOY YOU WILL NEVER CHANGE..

STUUUU

• SMOTHERS YOUR PETS WITH EVERY BIT OF AFFECTION HE HAS IN HIS BIG OL’ HEART!

• Dances with your snake around his neck to Britney Spears’ “I’m a Slave 4 U” playing in the background.

• Yes this man will honor Britney in any way he can, shush..

• There’s a few animals he’s allergic to so he might be a lil sneezy here and there.

• His eyes get that red and puffed up until the point Billy thinks he’s fucking high or smth..

• But if he loves one of those animals THAT much he’ll just buy allergy meds and tell himself to suck it up.

• Giggles at the vids of dog owners letting their pooches stand up and dance with them.

(So much so, he tries it with your dog himself)

• Has a special thing for Labradors and Great Danes!

• Nah, spiders are def a big NO NO..

“Hey babe, look!” You said, both hands open wide as a fat, hairy black creature sat in the middle of them.

Stu stared at you from the other couch, standing up as he began to back away. “Nah, put that shit down.”

“BUT LOOK.”

“BABE STO-”

• Cannot go into a dog shelter whatsoever. Even if the pair of you were to find one perfect for you guys, his heart aches for the other ones being left behind.

• Would love nothing more than to lay down with a dozen puppies crawling on top of him whilst he plays with the little cuties. OMG.

MICKEY

• I just know y’all would have a black cat named Salem.

• Takes multiple pics of husky puppies in the snow.

• Feels all fuzzy inside when you say you’re the “Momma” of your shared pet and he’s the “Daddy”

• Always lets your pets sleep at the bottom of the bed with you two! (Maybe even further up and snuggled in if he’s feeling particularly nice that day)

• When he’s not busy with his film studies, he’ll watch some movies with your furry friend, letting them sit on his lap whilst stroking/patting the cuddly creature.

• I imagine he wouldn’t necessarily bother with getting a pet that’s not a house cat or a regular dog. But if you decided to go out and get something extremely different from those two sorts, he’d probably be intrigued to see what it was and what it could do.

RANDY

• Randy is most certainly someone who doesn’t mind animals. He’s the kind of person who wants one for the sake of having some extra company.

• He has a golden Labrador of his own, so he certainly won’t be fussed if you tell him you have a dog.

• Stu threw a bit of meat onto Randy’s back without him noticing. Well, until he was screaming when he realised a fucking PIT BULL had been chasing him half way down the goddamn street!

That sort of messed up his thoughts on certain dog breeds for quite a while..

• Unlike Billy, Randy LOVES having popular dog names for his pooch. In fact, Buster is actually the name of his doggie!! :D

• No joke, if you tell this man you have a Tarantula he will avoid your house at all costs. ALL. COSTS.

• He would try and phone you to have a movie night and it would go a lil something like this:

“Hey, my mom’s out of town and Martha went to her friend’s house for the night, you wanna come over? I picked up some movies when I was finishing my shift earlier. I was thinking a horror seeing as it’s fall, ya know?”

“Don’t be silly! Come over to mine! I’ve got Halloween and plenty of snacks at the ready! Jamie Lee Curtis, hello?” You giggled.

“Uh- you know what babe I think i’m *COUGH* coming down w- with um- something.”

“Wait wha-”

“LOVE YOU, BYEEEEEE!!”

• No matter how much begging you do, he’s not coming over.

*You, Randy, Tatum, Stu, Sid and Billy walking home*

“Who’s house are we having that dumbass ‘movie marathon’ at tonight?” Billy snorted.

Randy gave him a look of pure offence. “Hey! It’s not dumb! It’s a HORROR marathon!! That’s what people do in October, Billy. Jesus.”

“Whatever.”

Tatum glanced towards you. “Y/n, I was thinking your house because you have the full Nightmare on Elm Street boxset-”

“ADIOS!” Randy shouted, practically sprinting back the way you lot had already came.

“PUSSY!!” Stu added with a loud echo of booming laughter.

TATUM

• Tatum loves animals so much, especially BUNNIES!

• As much as she may like your animals who are fluffy as HELL, she always carries a lint roller around with her. She hates hairs on her skirt.. (I feel you girl 🥲)

• Does not understand why so many girls freak out at dogs licking their faces. She knows it’s their way of giving affection like chill out??

• Her and Dewey had rabbits as kids, so don’t be surprised if she gets extra excited over the fact you have some aswell, hehe.

• Always asks if she can pet people’s dogs in public. If they appear friendly enough, of course.

• Snakes are definitely not her thing, so if you have one, perhaps keep it hidden when she comes over.

• She’ll try and get you to let her hold your rabbit whilst you watch a movie. (I mean, why not?)

SIDNEY

• Sidney is 110% a cat lover. So much so, when Christmas time came around, you decided to gift her a little kitten as a thank you for how supportive she always is towards you.

• It would be a beautiful little grey kitty named Daisy. And I imagine Sid would definitely spend time with her 24/7. Daisy was one of the only things that made Sidney truly happy, despite you, of course.

• She likes dogs too! She’ll always giggle her head off if your dog gets overexcited when she comes around to visit.

• Literally finds mini turtles so fucking cute. (She is definitely interested to see unordinary pets too!!)

• Much like Stu and Randy, our girl Sid is a big fan of Labradors. Especially black ones. She finds them beautiful creatures, standing proudly with their big chocolate brown eyes.

hey guys! headcanon requests are open if you’d like to see some specific types of hcs with a certain one of these lovely characters! remember to drink plenty of water and take care of yourselves! i love you my darlings, you are always welcome to have kj’s blog as your safe place. always. <3

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butters-flower-mom · 9 months

Text

It's my OC and comfort character and I'll be cringe with them if I want.

"Crap!" Butters cursed, thankful his parents were unable to hear his potty mouth from inside the kitchen. He scrambled up onto the couch, crossing his arms in anger. "Figures you'd be a girl!"

The girl in question frowned, turning her gaze to the floor as she fidgeted with the arm of her dinosaur plush. Unsure of how to respond to such a remark she simply uttered a soft "I'm sorry…"

Butters' parents had told him to be on his best behavior while their new neighbors were visiting. They'd informed him there was a kid his age he could play with and he'd gotten so excited as the prospect of making a new friend. What they neglected to tell him was the gender of this new kid. They couldn't honestly expect him to play with a girl! Girls are dumb and boring! All they ever wanna talk about is dating and makeup and shoes!

Butters looked at the little girl he was stuck in the living room with. She shifted on her feet, scanning the room as if she were also looking for some escape out of this. After a period of awkward silence, Butters hopped off the couch and stomped towards the stairs.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm goin' to my room to color. And no girls allowed!" He'd advanced halfway up the stairs when he paused and peeked through the bars of the railing. She was still standing there, not making a sound and clinging to her doll. She looked very small from this position… and very alone too. With an exasperated sigh, Butters continued into his room.

Pepper hugged her t-rex as tight as she could, wishing she could somehow teleport back to her house and her own room. She could hear her mom and Butters' parents laughing and chatting from the kitchen. It sounded like she wouldn't be going home any time soon. A noise at the coffee table behind her made her jump. She turned to find Butters had come back down the stairs and was now setting up a small arts and crafts space at the coffee table. He took a seat and began doodling on a sheet of construction paper with his crayons.

She watched him quietly, mesmerized with his drawing. When he caught her staring, Pepper looked away in a panic. She shifted her weight again.

"You can sit down, y'know." Butters had much less anger and annoyance in his tone. "Ya look uncomfortable standin' there."

Pepper hesitated before taking a seat on the floor in the same spot where she had been standing.

"Do you, uh... like colorin'?"

Pepper looked directly at him for the first time since she'd gotten there and gave a small nod. "Mm-hm."

"You can color if you wanna. Just don't break my crayons, ya hear? It's a brand new box." Butters moved the box of crayons so Pepper could have easier access and placed a small stack of construction paper on the other side of the table.

Pepper slowly crawled over to the table and situated herself across from Butters. Selecting a crayon from the box, she got to work on her own drawing. The two worked quietly until Butters eventually spoke up again.

"So, what'cha makin'?"

"Baxter."

"Who the heck's Baxter?"

Pepper pointed to the stuffed dino she had been holding since she arrived, who was now seated on the table beside her drawing.

Butters smiled. "I was wonderin' about him. Kind of a cute lil' fella. Can I see him?" Butters moved for the doll but Pepper immediately snatched him up, holding him out of reach.

"No!"

After hearing nothing but softly spoken responses from her, this sudden outburst took Butters a bit by surprise. That surprise gave way to offense. "Aw, c'mon! I'm lettin' ya use my stuff! The least you can do is let me look at yours!"

Pepper mulled it over before she reluctantly obliged. "Okay… b-but I gotta hold him so he doesn't get scared."

Butters joined Pepper on her side of the table. Still clutching Baxter tightly in her hands, she presented the stuffed tyrannosaurus to him. Butters gave him a few gentle pets on the head.

"He's soft!" he exclaimed. The young boy began speaking to the toy in a kind voice as he continued stroking its head. "Hiya, Baxter. I'm Butters. You're a good dinosaur, huh?"

Pepper watched as Butters sweetly interacted with her treasured stuffed animal. A small smile spread onto her face, which Butters couldn't help but notice.

"You got a nice smile."

A slight blush appeared on the girl's cheeks as she pulled Baxter back, hiding her shy smile behind him and letting her hair fall into her face. Butters giggled at her reaction before moving his drawing over to his new position. Pepper placed the box of crayons between them and they resumed coloring.

"I like Baxter," Butters stated, replacing his yellow crayon and taking a blue one.

"He likes you too," Pepper replied softly, grabbing the crayon Butters had just placed in the box.

Hearing this made Butters smile. He paused his coloring to look at Pepper. "You're not so bad either. Uh, for a girl, I mean." This made her hide her face with her hair again, but Butters could still make out the smile she had.

"Pepper, sweetie, about ready to get going?" The kids looked up to see their parents leaving the kitchen.

"Aw, aren't you two just precious?" Linda fawned over the sight of her son and the neighbor girl getting along. "You've been playing nice, right, Butters?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Atta boy," Steven lightly praised, reaching down to give Butters' hair an affection tousle.

Pepper glanced up at her mom, then to Butters. "Do we have to go right now?"

"'friad so, pumpkin. I gotta get home and start dinner, and I'm sure Butters and his parents are getting hungry too."

As the adults began to say their own goodbyes, Pepper sadly collected Baxter off the table. "Bye bye," she somberly muttered to Butters.

"Aw, don't be sad," Butters assured. "We can play again tomorrow. I mean, if you wanna, that is."

Pepper immediately brightened up upon hearing this. Her mom took her hand and began leading her towards the exit. She and Butters waved goodbye to each other before his new friend disappear out the door.

"How's spaghetti sound for dinner?" Linda asked.

"Ooh, yum!" Steven voiced his approval.

"With garlic bread?" Butters inquired excitedly.

"Can't have spaghetti without garlic bread," his mom replied.

Steven plopped onto the couch, turning on the news. "Why don't you put your stuff away and give your mom a hand?"

"O-kay!" Butters was always happy to help out in the kitchen. As he returned his crayons to their box and began gathering up the papers from the table, he stopped to smile at the drawing Pepper had made. As she'd said, the drawing depicted Baxter though he was much bigger than the plushie actually was. And there, riding on the back of the t-rex, was Pepper and Butters.

#and thus a lifelong friendship began #just a reminder that this isn't a ship #pepper's just shy and doesn't know how to take a compliment #also an opportunity for me to have butters' parents being nice to him #south park #my chaotic sonshine #pepper posts #lotus talks to herself

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cams-cozy-corner · 11 months

Note

if youre still doing writing requests, maybe post-cyclone regressor constance?

Absolutely!!!

Drabble under the cut :)

(I threw in a lil bit of cg Penny/Jane <3)

Constance is still getting used to her life. Not much has changed, but at the same time, everything had. She usually spends her nights in bed lying awake, staring at the glowing stars on the ceiling until her alarm clock buzzes.

It’s terrifying to think about, she could have lost her entire life, everything. Her mom, her dad, her brothers, everybody she knew and loved.

And to think, all the horrible things she thought about them. Her mother, the kindest person she had ever known, was nothing but an obstacle holding her back. She wishes she could go back in time, before she had gotten to that awful mindset.

She tugs the blanket over her shoulders, and looks down at her friend. She slept so peacefully, with her hands laid across her chest. Maybe ignorance really was bliss.

Penny would always spend the night whenever she asked. Sure she was scared of her at first (maybe even still), but she had slowly grown more attached to her. She was tall, and gentle but in her movements. Her hands were always cold, but in the most soothing way possible. Hugging her was like flipping your pillow over so you can fall asleep better on the cool side.

Penny hadn’t changed much since they had all gotten out of the hospital. It still felt wrong to call her Jane Doe after they learned her real name, even if she wasn’t any different yet. She wasn’t quite mature herself, but was oddly comforting in her own way. Penny always loved to play dolls with her, she didn’t mind if it was childish. She did it with her anyways.

As Constance tossed and turned in her bed, she kept finding her field of vision drifting to the floor. There was just too much in her head, too much regret, too much pent up frustration.

She just missed her childhood so much. Watching movies on the couch with her family, and popping the popcorn on the stove. Playing on the playground, and spinning so fast on the tire she thought she would pass out. Even just saying “I love you” to her mom with a big hug before bed. She’ll never stop regretting all those past couple years where she purposefully left herself out of it all.

She could feel the lump swelling in her throat. There was a persistent pain in her sinuses when ever she tried to breath.

She hesitantly got down on the floor besides her air mattress on the floor and nudged her awake. She needed somebody to know what she was feeling, even if it just went right through her ears. She woke up almost immediately.

“What is it?” She asks with a genuine a curiosity.

She froze up. What was she supposed to say?

“I want-,” She cuts herself off with a pent up fit sobbing, finally breaking and burying her head into the the pile of blankets that Penny always stacked on top of herself, “I don’t know.”

She just needed a break. She needed to forget everything she had ever done in high school. She needed to remember being young and innocent, and happy with herself. She had mostly been feeling a little better since the accident, but at the same time, she could never undo what she already did.

“Oh. Your sad.” Penny points out, “Or… what’s a better word for sad?”

“I dunno,” she whines, “I just don’t feel good.”

“Oh. That’s okay.” She says calmly, her voice playing out like a music box, “You can sleep with me if you’d like.”

“Mhm,” She forces out a pathetic plea, again feeling the ache in her throat as she does, “Yes please.”

She crawls under her pile of blankets and embraces her cold arms wrapped around her, hugging her closely like a teddy bear. She cuddles up close under her chin, clinging to her side.

It reminds her of when she was just 5 years old, and would crawl into her mommy’s bed every time she had a bad dream. Closing her eyes, and resting her head against, feeling her slow breathing against her chest. She could fall asleep right there.

Penny takes the time to tug the blanket up to her chin and rest her hand on her back, patting it gently. She hums a mellow lullaby like she can just flip a switch to do so. It’s like heaven running through her ears. Enough of the bad feeling melts away to leave her finally feeling in the present. Only a part of her mind is stuck in the past, thankfully the side that likes to remember the happier times.

She sniffles through her nose, following Pennys steady deep breaths. Her brain gets groggy with tiredness, hardly awake enough to open her eyes. Her mind dazedly drifts around all her childhood memories, it almost feels like she’s right there. It feels like her mother is right there, just like she remembered.

“Thank you Mama,” She quietly slurs, gently twirling Penny’s curly blond hair around her finger. Her heavy breathing calms down, and she pictures the stars on her ceiling. Pretty yellow glowing stars.

“Okay,” She says simply, mimicking the same action of playing with Constance’s hair, “Good night baby doll.”

#sfw agere #sfw age dreamer #sfw age regression #sfw little blog #ride the cyclone agere #rtc agere #agere fic #sorry I’m just a sucker for hugs and sleepy #I didn’t proof read to well so just lmk 😭

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tinytinybumblebee · 2 years

Note

thinkin about how tyke ed just has angry days sometimes. not constant screaming angry, just moody and huffy angry. but mama still loves and takes care of him, and by dinner time, ed feels a lil bit better.

Oh absolutely!

Regressing isn't always sunshine and rainbow. Sometimes being tiny is trying to work on all those big feelings that have been bubbling and festering inside, the ones big Ed doesn't wanna deal with/have been pushing on the back burner

Tyke Ed will pout and huff at everything somedays- whining when told he can't wear his underwear over his pants (they're underwear for that reason Stede tries to explain), little foot stomps when something doesn't go exactly how he saw it go in his mind and, just crawling under the writing table and pouting.

And Stede knows these days just require some extra patience and love ;w; helping Ed know it's okay to feel these emotions, Mama isn't mad/disappointed in Ed's actions/attitude, he knows his little one is just expressing how he's feeling and Mama is proud of Ed for working out his biiig feelings rather than bottling them up!♡

Sometimes Ed doesn't want to be close to Mama while feeding angry, so, Stede will sit on the couch, reading a book while tiny Ed is under his lil blanket fort, just within eye sight of Ed.

Then, a little while later, Ed will peek out from his fort, looking to Stede until Stede catches his doe eyes.

"Hello lovely, do you need something?" Stede ask.

Ed nods, holding his arms out. His nonverbal way of saying "Okay, I want held now please and thank you"

Stede smiles, walking over to Ed and scooting into the fort. Ed slithlers onto Stede's lap, idle-y playing with the buttons on Stede's frock- Ed doesn't want to talk, or play, he just wants his Mama close now♡

And by dinner, Ed is asking if he can have some marmalade for dessert, which of course he gets💖💖

#agere #age regression #sfw #fandom agere #mailbox #ofmd #stede bonnet #edward teach

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hansolmates · 3 years

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silent night | 10

banner made by the iconic @dnrequests / @dee-ehn

summary; while you wait, unexpected closure finds their way to you pairing; dilf!jk x best friend!reader (f) genre/warnings; fluff, angst, longing, pining, mc is a homebody, unrequited love (or is it?), potential idiots 2 lovers, best friends 2 lovers, mentions of sex, haru probably sounding a lil too old for her age but she’s fictionally very intelligent w/c; 793 a/n; wow pt 10?? the amount of violence in my inbox this week has been so entertaining thank you so much for being so invested, ty for waiting! [day by day masterpost]

“Please, take my car and drive back to your apartment,” Jungkook says quickly, unclicking yours and his seatbelt, “take Haru with you, say you’re having a sleepover.”

“Wait, what?” it’s not you who should be leaving, it should be Sena! “Jungkook, you can’t be serious.”

“I don’t want Haru to see her,” Jungkook looks frustrated, his knuckles white as he grips the wheel, “what if Sena says something that throws her off? Things were getting so good.”

Were? You’re so confused. You couldn’t stop your jaw from dropping at his statement.

You’re trying hard, so hard to understand Jungkook’s situation. Seeing him crumple like this at the sight of his ex-girlfriend and Haru’s biological mother makes your stomach churn, but you still feel unsettled at the fact that Jungkook is going to be alone in his house with her. Wouldn’t he want to be in a united front knowing that his daughter and you are there to support him?

“Please,” Jungkook begs again, his voice is so soft and panicked, his blazing eyes darting back and forth between Haru’s sleeping ones and yours, “I’m sorry, I’ll call you later.”

As you helplessly drive away from his house your lips burn for a kiss goodbye, reassurance that everything will be alright.

Somehow you ended up making your way home, all with Haru unaware of the fact that Sena is no less than fifteen minutes away from her. It’s all too easy to ignore the copious amounts of luggage the three of you packed, grabbing your duffle on one arm and Haru in the other as you make your way to your apartment.

Haru goes to bed without any problems, immediately reaching for your vast mountain of plushies to bury herself in.

It’s you that’s left awake to mull, wallowing in your own self-pity as you think about how many crossroads your life has come down to. After reaching multiple dead ends over the years, you’re hopeful that the road you’re on now is the longest yet. After all, you, Haru and Jungkook have been the constant for so long.

You play a random sitcom on your television, the soft buzz far too low for any neighbors to hear, but you’ve watched this show one too many times to know what’s going on. You sigh when you see the best friend finally kiss the other best friend after years of pining and chasing around each other, finally meeting in their loft elevator.

Before you know it, you’re crying, worried about Jungkook. It’s already 11PM and he’s made no indication that he’s okay or how things are going. You hopelessly throw your phone between the couch cushions, knowing it will only break you more waiting for him.

Soft, sock-clad feet pad into your living room, and you wipe your eyes roughly when you notice Haru is toddling over. She rubs her own eyes, trying to will the sleep away as she crawls on top of you.

“Wha’ wrong,” Haru asks with a frown, handing you the Eeyore plush you purchased for her this week. She’s been attached to it every night since, “hug, makes you feel better.”

You shake your head, kissing both Haru and Eeyore’s forehead, “Nothing, just silly stuff.”

“Do you miss daddy?”

You huff, smiling helplessly at the beautiful little girl. She’s so intuitive. “You’re so smart, Haru. I miss him a little bit, I guess. Daddy says he’ll meet up with us soon though, so don’t you worry.”

The little girl doesn’t immediately reply, awkwardly trying to squeeze herself between you and the blanket that wraps loosely around your arms.

“Why,” Haru asks, “why can’t you be my mommy?”

She’s shy when she says it, black bangs falling over her brows as she looks up at you through her lashes. Fiddling with the ear of her depressed plush donkey, she waits patiently for her answer.

It’s then you sob harder, unable to keep it together for the sake of Haru.

“Oh bubby,” you open your blanket further so that Haru can burrow herself between the warmth of your body and the sherpa, “what matters is that we’re in each other’s lives. I would love to be your mother but, things are complicated.”

It’s probably the shittiest excuse to tell a little kid that the reason things are is simply because they’re complicated. Yet, it’s the only thing you can think of.

“What’s so comp-i-cated,” Haru mutters into your shoulder, piecing the syllables together, “daddy loves you, I love you. We love each other, that’s good enough? Mhm?”

#jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #btswritingcafe #btsghostie #kwritersworldnet #dilf!jk #bts fic #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts angst #jungkook angst

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potter-imagines · 4 years

Text

Left Waiting at The Three Broomsticks (Fred Weasley x Read)

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Request: Hi! I was wondering if I could have a Fred Weasley imagine where he pisses off his gf somehow and so she gives him the silent treatment and only talks to literally everyone (including George) but him so he gets all jealous and pouty lol. Eventually he gets her to start talking to him again and then it’s all fluff etc. Hopefully this wasn’t a confusing request! Thank you!! :)

Warning: Tiny bit of sexual content towards the end, little bit of swearing, kinda angst at the beginning ?? and a lil towards the end ?? I think that's all, a lot of fluff scattered about

Word Count: 9.5k (I am so sorry I got carried away)

Two hours. Y/n had spent two hours waiting for him. Two stupid hours on a Saturday night that she could have spent elsewhere making something productive of her day but no. The last two hours Y/n had been seated in a small booth in the corner of The Three Broomsticks waiting patiently for her boyfriend, Fred Weasley.

The thing that infuriated her the most was that it was his idea in the first place! Originally, the couple had planned a stay-in date in her dorm room for the night before, Friday, but other plans came up. Fred got tangled up in a prank with George that had landed him in detention with Snape for the night. Yes, it annoyed her but what could she do? It wasn’t like Snape would excuse Fred because she tells him they have a date. If anything, Snape would hold him back longer.

When Fred and George were finally dismissed, it was nearly eleven at night and Fred was sprinting down through the dungeons to the common room. Their arrangement was for eight and he was praying to anyone listening above that she was still awake, but not furious at him.

Skipping up the transporting stairs, Fred basically shouted the secret password at the Fat Lady making her narrow her eyes at him. She swung open, not without muttering about how rude he was, and Fred jumped inside. Ten or so students were scattered around the common room, chatting amongst themselves. Hermione, Ron and Harry sat around the couch near the grand fireplace. They sent Fred a wave, which he frantically returned. The golden trio watched in curiosity as Fred darted up the stairs of the girl’s dormitory.

Hermione looked back to the group and asked,

“Wonder what that’s about- he seemed in a hurry.”

“Heard him and George got detention. They put stink-bombs in the Slytherin common room! Heard it stained some of the furniture maroon!” Ron chuckled at his brother’s antics then resumed his debate with Harry over their thoughts on the Quidditch World Cup happening every four years. Harry tried to explain the concept of the Olympics to Ron, but Ron was too focused on how amazing it would be for the World Cup to happen each year. Hermione went back to her studies, blocking out the mindless bickering of the boys.

Above the common room, Fred Weasley was scurrying to his girlfriend’s dorm room. He hoped Angelina and Alicia were out so he could be alone with her. Their time spent together had been oddly less than usual the last few weeks. Fred had no change of heart- actually, he found himself falling more in love with her every day, but their final year at Hogwarts was creeping up from the woods and he was working on a dream career behind the scenes with George that was eating up his time with her. He had shared this idea with her before- but it was just an idea then. Fred and George planned on putting their dreams to action once they finished up the next year. He wanted her to come- George did as well, but he didn’t want to mention it until it was a reality.

Reaching his destination Fred took a second to compose himself. A thin line of sweat was forming near his forehead. This was the first chance he had to take a breather since detention ended. Fixing his dark robes Fred knocked against the door, quiet enough not to startle her but loud enough to hear.

“Y/n… Y/n… love, are you awake? It’s Fred-“

Abruptly, the heavy wooden door cracked open and a weary looking girl poked her head out into the quietness.

“Darling, did I wake you up? I’m so sorry.” Fred stepped forward and wrapped the girl in a tight embrace. Y/n’s head fell against his chest out of instincts. His arms fastened around her waist as he invited himself in the room, slowly walking her back.

“Here, go back to bed, love. You look exhausted.” Fred led the sluggish girl to her familiar bed. Throwing back the covers, he readjusted her pillows so there would be room for him to fit as well. Fred then walked back to Y/n and took her hand softly. Kissing the back of her hand, Fred helped Y/n get into bed then slipped in beside her. His arms snaked around her body without thought. The naturalness of holding her in his arms made Fred feel confident in his dreams of starting a future with her. All the tension in his body collapsed when she leaned into his frame. Fred held her close and kissed the side of her cheek lovingly.

“I’m sorry about detention tonight but I promise I’ll take you out Saturday, alright? We can have a date at Hogsmeade and spend the night together, does that sound nice?”

The sleepy witch gave a tired mumble and nodded her head. She was cuddled under a stack of blankets, wearing Fred’s sweatshirt which made him smile. He’d usually crack a joke at this and tease her but, she was already asleep when he looked back to her. Fred couldn’t help but stare at her for a while. There was never a moment that went by where Fred didn’t think of Y/n as anything other than beautiful but in these moments, she looked ethereal.

Moonlight poured in from the open window and splashed across her s/c cheeks. Her hair was sprawled against the white pillowcase. Fred smiled at the sound of her light snores. Fred wouldn’t leave until he was sure she was deep asleep. It was their thing. She hated going to bed without him there.

“Okay, I love you, Y/n. Get some sleep, angel.” Fred whispered.

He pecked her forehead, then kissed her lips gently. Removing the covers, Fred tucked them back into Y/n so she could keep warm. He closed the open window then tip toed out of the room. Instead of rejoining his friends, Fred decided to head to his room. He felt too guilty for missing out on their plans to go have his own fun. Anyways he did have a Potions paper coming up and if he was going to spend the day with you Saturday, he surely wouldn’t be doing any homework.

So, the plan was confirmed the next morning, Friday. Y/n ran into Fred on her way to breakfast and they discussed where they’d meet and a time. They ate breakfast together, walked to class, then headed in different directions when six rolled around. Fred had a Quidditch match and she had a group project, so they didn’t cross paths for the rest of the night. Even though he refused to admit it, Fred absolutely hated when Y/n missed one of his games. His favorite thing to do was search for her in the stands during each game and it made him sad not to see her smiling face standing out in the crowd. Y/n entered the common room around midnight and went straight for her bed. Gryffindor had lost so there wasn’t a single housemate sitting in the common room. She could only imagine how upset Fred must be, she’d be hearing about it tomorrow. Y/n giggled to herself at the recollection of Fred’s angry rants about his teammates to you in private. She basically crawled to her bed, dreaming about the handsome, goofy, witty twin that had captured her heart.

Which would bring us to Saturday night. Fred and Y/n had made specific plans; they were to meet at The Three Broomsticks at seven then hangout for a while and spend the rest of their night sneaking around the castle with the help of The Marauder’s Map. Fred had practice at six so he was planning on meeting up with the girl at the pub. Y/n expected him to be running late- it wouldn’t be Fred if he didn’t show up a good twenty minutes late.

Only Fred never showed up at seven thirty, not at eight, and by the time nine neared, he was still nowhere in sight. The Three Broomsticks would stay open for a few more hours but the thought of sitting there alone for any longer, jumping at the sound of the door every time it opened, it made Y/n feel less than sane.

Throwing a handful of coins on the table, Y/n thanked her server then exited through the front doors. The walk back to the castle wasn’t long but being with Fred made it a lot more amusing. He’d pick her flowers, give her piggy back rides, play games, race, and hold her hand the whole walk back.

This time, Y/n walked alone hugging the material of her raincoat to her chest. A light drizzle had been pouring on and off for most of the day. Earlier, it was perfectly bearable- hardly noticeable. Although the weather had only worsened as the night grew darker. Hard rain drops crashed against Y/n coat, cascading down her covered arms and bouncing to the wet ground. Her black boots were soaked. She could feel the water rising to her socks, one of her biggest hatreds. Wet socks.

The hood of her jacket only helped so much before the pelting raindrops started to seep to her hair. Typically, Y/n loved the rain. If Fred was here, they’d be dancing right now. But he wasn’t, she had no clue where he was and that was exactly what Y/n was headed to find out.

By the time Y/n made it back to the castle and up to the Gryffindor common room, it was past ten.

Much as Y/n had expected, the common room was lively with energy and conversations. Katie, Alicia, and Angelina were all sitting in a circle with Fred, George, Lee Jordan, Seamus, and Dean. A dark bottle of Dragon Barrel brandy and Daisyroot Draught were being passed amongst them. Y/n watched as Fred leaned into his brother’s side, obviously tipsy and slurring his words while he practically shouted to their friends who were only sitting feet away.

His frame twitched with every small hiccup he let out. The whole group was smiling, they were happy. Y/n wondered to herself if Fred even noticed that she wasn’t there. She wondered if he liked it more when she wasn’t there, they were having fun and although the group was also her friends, no one was interested enough to invite her. Biting on the tender skin of her bottom lip, Y/n bundled her fist to her sides. The anger refused to simmer, only continued to boil. Her dripping clothes weren’t helpful to her sour mood.

It wasn’t the fault of her friends, no, but they were bound to get caught in the crossfires. Fred was the one who left her waiting for hours on end. Her chest was tight- livid yet sad all at once. It was an aggravating feel, unfamiliar. Y/n hated the suffocation entering her drying throat. More than anything she longed to handle situations like these in an aloof fashion. The last thing wanted was to wear her emotions on her sleeve, but she couldn’t help it. Her head screamed ‘just go to bed, ignore him’ but her heart wanted to scream at him and let him know just how bad he had hurt her. Her breathing quickened, each inhale received a choppy exhale.

For the first time, Y/n decided not to join her friends or to even say a word to Fred about how he stood her up. She was sick of it- completely exhausted and drained from his lack of care and presences in their relationship the last few weeks. If he wanted her as bad as he claimed, he’d find a way to show it. And leaving her sitting alone in a noisy pub while he partied and drank with their friends, showed her the exact opposite of his words.

Diverting her leer from the inebriated group and studied the rest of the room, hearing voices near the sitting area. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville were all staring at Y/n in mixed judgement. Harry, Ron and Neville looked concerned by the appearance of Y/n. Hermione on the other hand, she was absolutely flabbergasted, Y/n could see the pity written on her face. You had mentioned having a date night with Fred in Hogsmeade to the four the night before. Harry had invited Y/n to hangout with them and visit Hagrid, but she politely declined and informed them about the special night Fred had planned for them.

Harry and Hermione stood up at the same time ready to comfort the teary-eyed girl. They motioned her over but just as she started towards them, Angelina Johnson noticed her friend who had been absent for most of the night. Setting the bottle of brandy down, Angelina wobbled up to her feet and smiled giddily,

“Y/n! Come- come drink with us! I was wondering where you- why… why’re you all wet?”

As the words fell from her mouth, a crowd of eyes planted on Y/n. Her fists clenched, bone white knuckles visible, at her sides. Angelina scurried over to her friend and wrapped her in a tender hug. If the scenario had been different, she’d gladly join in the fun but there wasn’t an ounce in her body that desired a drink.

Y/n’s eyes found their way to the boy she had been longing for all night. Her lips quivered, the anger and sadness reaching it’s overpour. He looked so handsome, so happy, but it meant nothing to her.

Pulling back, Angelina squinted in confusion at Y/n. The lack of embrace given back had thrown her off. The group had been awaiting her arrival, no one was quite sure where she’d gone off to. Angelina scanned Y/n’s reddening face, noticing the emotions bubbling under the surface.

Moving away, the dark-skinned girl turned to her friends. No one else seemed to notice the offset of Y/n’s attitude.

“Angel, where have you been? I missed you!” Fred’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. Quickly standing up, he held his hand out to his girlfriend. Y/n shot a dangerous look to his outreach, then up to his face. Usually she’d find his toothy grin and childlike state loveable but for obvious reasons, it made her irate.

Stepping back, Y/n sternly scowled at Fred,

“Missed me? You’re the one who left me waiting all goddamn night, Fred Weasley.”

A part of Y/n felt guilty for forcing her friends to witness their unpleasant exchange. George was now to his feet standing behind Fred, just as lost as the group he had been sitting with. Despite the alcohol running in his veins, George could sense an argument budding by the second.

“Not like any of you really seemed to care where I was.” Y/n kicked herself for this cold statement.

Her friends weren’t at fault- not in the slightest. But everyone was at risk of becoming a victim to her fiery wrath. In actuality, it did hurt her a little that no one had gone searching for her. It had been hours! Tears welled in her eyes as she took in the reactions of the group. George took his arm off Alicia and nudged his twin.

“What- I don’t know what you’re talking ‘bout, love. I think you should have a drink and loosen up-“

Y/n couldn’t take it. She just couldn’t take it anymore. Scrunching her face, she used every bit of strength to force her salty tears to hide at bay. Although her emotions screamed to be heard and saw right through her façade. Sweeping her hand across her cheek, Y/n caught the stray tears that rolled down her rosy cheeks. Huffing all her emotions out at once, Y/n shook Fred away from her and hurried towards her room.

Fred stood appearing dumbfounded. He could only gawk in perplexity. Blame it on the alcohol, but Fred’s mind was drawing a blank when surveying her words. For most of the night, he was the one thinking she was leaving him waiting. No one else had a clue as to where she’d gone off to, so he assumed she was in the library or wanted some space.

“You’re an idiot, Fred.” Hermione’s sharp voice cut through the thick air. The happiness and drunken laughter was extinct. The girl’s shared an exchange, all confused as to what just happened. The glass bottles didn’t help clear their judgement. Dean and Seamus took small sips from the Daisyroot Draught. The tension was unbearable, it felt wrong for their friends to be a part of it.

George set a hand on Fred’s shoulder, pulling him back slightly. Leaning forward, George whispered to his twin,

“I reckon it’s best if we turn it in for the night.” Fred gave a tug of protest. His intoxicated fought against him though he knew he did something wrong and needed to find Y/n. In spite of his desire to chase after the girl, George couldn’t let him do that. It was obvious Fred had forgotten something and Y/n was more than upset. Sending his brother up to drunkenly apologize to his hurting girlfriend for a reason he can’t even recall, that was a recipe for disaster and would only cause a bigger mess.

“Fred, you’re going to bed. You’re too drunk to talk to Y/n right now, okay? We’re going up the boy’s stairs, not the girls, okay? You two can talk in the morning, maybe you’ll remember where you fucked up tonight by then.”

Suddenly, Fred stop moving and let out a low groan,

“Oh shit… merlin’s sake, I fucked up, George. Oh my god- Hogsmeade… shit! I told her we’d meet at Hogsmeade and I forgot-“Fred whipped around in his discombobulated state. Everything clicked at once. Fred had been so concentrated on Quidditch that once practice had wrapped up, his exhausted body dragged him back to the common room out of muscle memory. It was his typical routine; Quidditch practice, head back to his dorm, shower, change, eat, work on some possible products with George, then hangout with his friends. How could he be so neglectful?

George sent his brother a comforting look then grabbed him by the shoulders, helping aid him up the winding staircase. It came as a shock to him that Fred had forgotten about their date. All he spoke about was Y/n, it was a rare occurrence for the couple to

“So that’s where she’s been all night?” George pushed open the door to their room, looking to his twin sternly. Fred had most of his weight piled on George, trying his hardest to remain upright. Lee had decided to stay back, allowing the brothers a chance to talk.

George helped his frantic twin in the dark room, then gave him a light push towards his bed. Fred plopped down, burying his face in the fluffy pillow. Pulling off his jumper, George threw the large maroon comforter over Fred’s tall frame while he wailed,

“I’m a terrible boyfriend. I planned the bloody date too! I left her-“

“How ‘bout you get some rest? You can find her in the morning and apologize to her and… hope for the best. It’ll give you more time to think of a way to make it up to her. You’re just a rambling mess right now.” The alcohol was not wearing George down. He had been on an adrenaline high since his second shot. This was the first moment of the night where he had stepped back. His tiresome hands rubbed against his face as he made his way to his bed and collapsed on it.

Fred was still moaning on, the sound of his drunken voice making it harder for George to fight back the urge to sleep,

“She’s gonna dump my sorry ass-“

“Go to bed, Fred. It’ll be okay.”

George let out a sigh of exhaustion. The twins had been best friends with Y/n since they were just children, new to Hogwarts and unfamiliar with the power of magic. It pained him to see his brother hurt, but it also hurt to see Y/n upset. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Turning his head, George let out a breathy chuckle at the sight of his twin passed out cold. The worry that dripped from his voice was now gone as he eased into his dreamland.

George wanted to scold him, knock him upside the head for skipping out on Y/n again. He cared a lot about her, she was basically a sister, a triplet to him. If Fred was gonna win her back, it wasn’t going to be easy, George knew this. Y/n was stubborn, and the twins had witnessed this first hand for years, it was a trait they loved, when not directed towards either of them.

As George’s head hit the pillow, all he could do was pray to Godrick that the morning would bring good news.

Sunday morning arrived much faster than Y/n had hoped. A bright, loud, light interrupted her sleep as the gears in her head started to turn. Her mind was groggy, the events of last night were foggy. Warm sunlight broke through the glass stained windows. Y/n wiped her eyes and slowly sat up. Her mouth was dry, screaming for a drink of water.

For a minute, she felt calm- happy almost. The room was half empty; Angelina’s bed was bare and Alicia laid in a star-fish position, a snore sounding from her mouth. The image made Y/n laugh.

Standing up, Y/n’s hands flew above her head as she stretched. She cracked her back, a morning ritual for the girl. Just as she reached for the knob of her dresser, a wave of recollection nearly knocked her off her feet.

Fred had stood her up, of course, how could she forget? The irritated skin under her eyes and nose suddenly made sense. Leaning against the wooden cabinet, Y/n huffed. It was times like these she wished she could crawl into bed and stay there for eternity. Nothing would get better though if she didn’t at least try to fix it.

As quick as the thought came, it had evaporated once more. Why did she have to be the one to put forth the effort to fix things? There was no use in fixing their relationship if Fred wasn’t willing to try too. More than try, Y/n thought. It took a piece of her when she came back to the castle just to see him drinking with their friends, not thinking a thought of her. She needed to see that he cared. His words held no value to her anymore, not until he could prove he meant what he said.

Y/n went through her morning routine like a snail, wanting to drag out her time. Eventually, she was fully dressed and ready for the day. She liked to take advantage of the days her school robes weren’t required. The cooling weather led her to a fuzzy black sweater, and light washed jeans. Sliding her delicate wand into her back pocket, Y/n exited the room and took the stairs down to the common room.

Approaching the bottom of the steps, Y/n could hear familiar voices exchanging hush words. She stepped into the room and was surprised to see the lack of students. The only ones present were sat one the long leather couch on the left half of the massive room. All of their gazes fell on Y/n.

Fred, George, Ron, Angelina, Harry and Hermione were all relaxing- well all of them except Fred. He on the other hand was frantic- disheveled. His knee bounced in anticipation. The clock was sneaking

“Oh, uh, hey Y/n!” Ron Weasley moved his hand side to side, waving to Y/n. The temptation to admire the handsome boy at his side leaped into her heart. Using every ounce of strength, Y/n trained her eyes on Ron, not allowing a single peek at Fred.

“Hey, Y/n/n!” The voice of Angelina brought a perk to Y/n’s head.

“Hi.” She greeted the younger Weasley and her close friend back, then headed for the portrait. Before she could make it half the distance, the tall figure of her boyfriend appeared.

“Angel, how did you sleep?” Fred was by her side in an instant. He was desperately trying to read her expression, testing the waters to see her mood. He had hardly slept, he spent most of the night thinking about this exact moment, when he’d have the chance to apologize and make it up to the girl he loved. “Can we please talk? I’m really sorry for last night, honestly, I am so so sorry, darling.”

Y/n stared at him, or rather, through him. It was like she didn’t see the tall wizard in front of her.

“I’m gonna go study, I’ll meet you with you guys later.”

“Y/n, love-“ His warm hand took hold of her of her own, an action she’d typically love. The familiar grasp sent a burst of comfort in her stomach, but she ignored it.

Wiggling out of his grip, the girl shot him a look of displeasure then rushed off. Hermione chased after her, no one else brave enough to step in. Besides, Hermione was one of her closest friends. Watching the younger girl follow after her roommate, Angelina walked after them. Fred stomped like a toddler having a tantrum as the portrait swung open then closed. He knew he had to do something- anything to get her to talk to him again, and that was his plan.

For a Sunday evening, the school library was relatively empty. A majority of the students occupying the tables were studying away for their O.W.L.S. The exams weren’t for another two months but hardly anyone dared to procrastinate until the last week before opening their books. The stress of the exams was enormous, but the students still had other classes to keep in mind.

Y/n Y/n/l and George Weasley were sitting across from on another at a study table. Three hefty textbooks were open as the two discussed their Potions paper. Y/n had been stuck on hers and George had yet to start so they decided to head to the library together and get it done.

Fred was usually right by their side, his hand wrapped around Y/n’s shoulders, but she neglected an invite for him. About an hour after their exchange in the common room, Y/n had apologized to each friend she had snapped on the night prior. They were understanding, clearly seeing where her frustrations had come for. They also felt bad as she was right, no one had even checked to see where she’d gone, and George especially felt terrible for not searching for his friend.

At least three hours had passed since the two Gryffindors started their study session. Y/n was sneaking up on her last two pages while George still had three left. They collaborated every few minutes, then returned to tranquil silence, scribbling away.

Y/n was in the middle of sharing her idea for the last section of her paper when George’s eyes brighten and he interrupted her,

“Fred, how nice of you to join us.”

Turning in her chair, Y/n found her boyfriend standing behind her with a nervous smile. She hated how perfect he looked, even in the poor lighting of the library. He still managed to make her breath hitch in the back of her throat.

“Hi, Y/n. You look beautiful as always.” Fred announced himself softly. George scoffed teasingly, muttering a ‘hello’ to himself to make up for his brother ignoring him. Freds words were genuine though didn’t make much of a difference. Y/n was still hurt and a compliment wasn’t going to mend that. She needed to feel it, to see him truly show that he cared- that she meant something to him. That she was deserving of his time. Sweet comments didn’t not add up to that feeling.

George closed his textbook, then glanced up at his twin,

“Should I leave?”

Before Fred could answer, Y/n slammed her hand on top of George’s Potions book. Wide eyed and frightened, the boy gaped in shock. Even Fred was taken aback by her unexpecting movement. Leering at her friend Y/n replied,

“No. I want you to stay, we were in the middle of a conversation.”

Fred’s heart dropped at her words. It was heartbreaking to have the girl of his dreams now shunning him- brushing him off with ease. It was driving him mad. All he wanted was for her to acknowledge him, give him a little hope that he can earn his way back in her heart. He loved her, every bit of him loved her.

All he wanted was to make it up to her for his mistakes the night before. He couldn’t stop thinking about the look on her face when she saw him sitting with their friends. She was miles exceeded hurt- more devastated at his negligence than hurt alone.

Maybe it was the fear of meeting the reality that losing Y/n was a possibility, but Fred experienced a new sort of emotion when his girlfriend asked for his brother to stay. Yes, they’re friends, all three of them are. Fred had to remind himself of this like a record on repeat. He couldn’t fight the envy off though.

It made his heart twist as she stared at George. Never did he think he’d be jealous of his own twin, but Fred was livid. The seething stream of covetousness overtook his veins. Fred wanted to be the one you ran to for comfort, not his brother. His entire life he had shared everything with George, Y/n was far too meaningful to Fred for her to be shared.

Now it does take two for a turn of events like that to happen. Fred knew, clear as day, that George had no romantic feelings for Y/n and she had none for George. This was true, but for some reason, it didn’t help tame Fred’s envy.

He knew causing a jealous scene would do no good for anyone, so Fred realigned his train of thought and asked,

“Could I steal you from that conversation, please love? I really need to apologize to you.”

Fred allowed his hands to reveal themselves from their previous position hiding behind his back. When he moved them, a full bouquet of colorful flowers and small green plants of different shapes and sizes. The flowers were a display of fuchsia, pink, orange, red, and yellow. They were beautiful, so beautiful, Y/n thought to herself. She couldn’t help the gasp that slipped past her lips.

Fred had gotten her flowers their first-year dating but since the last month or so, she hadn’t received many of his heartwarming gifts. It wasn’t the monocle value of a present but the thought and attention to care that captured Y/n’s heart. Fred had always been the best at creating meaningful gifts on a tight budget. Whether it was flowers he stole from school grounds, or necklaces he made out of stones she found around the Great Lake. He’d make her perfume- proving rather excellent in the Potions department. He also asked Molly to teach him how to knit in order to make Y/n a sweater. This of course delighted Molly over the moon.

George bit on the skin of his knuckles to keep for laughing at his brother. He recognized the flowers, as did Y/n. Fred had picked them from the garden outside the castle- something that had earned him a detention before. George decided not to comment on his observation, Fred was sure to murder him in his sleep if he put his apology in any jeopardy.

Fred extended the bouquet to his flustered girlfriend. He felt a sense of accomplishment while watching her reaction. It was small to most, but for as stubborn as she was, it was big in his eyes. The girl reached forward, accepting the gift with a tiny smile rising to her lips, one she didn’t force down.

For the first time since the night before, Y/n fully saw Fred. She peered directly at him silently. George glanced between the two, stuck between a dual. Without speaking, Fred took some steps forward and pulled the chair next to Y/n out. He slipped into the seat, the couple still staring at each other. Y/n studied his demeanor, he didn’t push her anymore, but he wouldn’t leave her side. Not that she would tell him but, she was happy he joined in. She didn’t want him to leave, she had missed being around him. Tearing herself away, Y/n focused herself back on the other twin.

“As I was saying, George…”

Fred drowned out the words but accepted the fact that Y/n didn’t reject him from sitting down. She also didn’t set the flowers down for the rest of their study session. The remained clutched in her hands, resting in her lap the whole time.

Monday night came in the blink of an eye. Classes had resumed and the castle was bustling in stress. When the end of the year neared, the time spent sitting through lectures was an eternity, while the weekends flew by. Fred had always hated summer break, actually, that’s not entirely true. His dismissive of break budded around the same time his relationship with Y/n became official.

Their first two years, she would spend the holiday back home in London with her family. She loved her family but once she experienced her first holiday at the Burrow, she never wanted to miss another. Her family was a bit distant, not the warm and welcoming pure-bloods like the Weasley’s, but not as cold as the Malfoy’s. Y/n’s family had no issues with her spending breaks at the Burrow, as long as she had Molly and Arthur Weasley’s approval. Molly insisted each time that there was no need for her to even ask to stay. They accepted her with open arms, ecstatic to see Fred had found such a lovely girl.

The end of the school term was coming up and Fred needed to fix things with Y/n before that happened. She planned to spend the break at his family’s home and he feared she’d take her agreement back if things weren’t improved between them. Spending almost two days stuck in the anger of his love was two days too many. Fred was going to fix this and he planned the best idea he could think of, good thing he had their friends happily available to help.

Unbeknownst to Y/n, while she was resting up from her illness Harry, Ron, Lee and George were helping Fred create his masterplan. Hermione helped in her own way by remaining near Y/n’s dorm, sitting in as the lookout. It gave her an excuse to get her school work done so she didn’t protest.

Alicia and Angelina stayed in the room. Once Y/n started to feel better, thanks to Madam Pomfrey, the girl’s altered Hermione who passed the news along to Harry as the chain continued until it reached Fred. At the confirmation, his plan was set into action. Ron was sent to retrieve the girl after Alicia and Angelina convinced her to get some food from the dining hall.

She walked through the common room then down the moving staircase, when her redheaded friend popped up. Ron scared the girl, making her stumble back, her hand placed over her chest.

“Y/n! I’m so glad I ran into you! No one has seen you all day- Angelina said you were feeling ill this morning.” Ron rambled at a fast pace. Y/n, still surprised by his sudden arrival, took a deep inhale, nodding to the boy,

“Yeah, I saw Madam Pomfrey this morning when classes started. I just had a stomach bug and she said I’d have to wait it out but the medicine she gave me seems to be doing the trick.” Y/n gave Ron a kind smile. Ron was two years younger than her but they had always been great friends. Y/n would travel to the Burrow as a guest of the twins during the holiday breaks, so Ron and her had spent a lot of time hanging out together. It was sweet of him to ask how she was doing, but he didn’t seem that her health was the reason for their conversation.

“That’s good to hear. You wouldn’t happen to be heading anywhere, are you?”

“Just to get some food. I’m starving-“ Ron nodded eagerly, cutting his friend off in the process.

“That’s great! I mean, not great, just… well… uh, follow me please!” Scrambling like a mess, Ron clasped his hand over Y/n’s wrist and abruptly dragged her down the stone corridor. She couldn’t find the words to question him and allowed Ron to lead the way. Her curiosity was far too big to ignore his odd request.

Ron carried on for another five minutes then took a sharp turn, heading for the courtyard. Two figures ran off around the side of the castle in the darkness. Y/n swore she recognized the pair as George and Lee. What were they up to? Snapping her head to the younger boy, Y/n waited for him to fill her in on why he had dragged her halfway across the castle to the freezing courtyard.

“Okay! We’re here- I’m just gonna… head out. See ya, Y/n!” Ron rushed his farewell then ran off towards the direction George and Lee had escaped to. What in the world is going on? Left by herself without any explanation, Y/n threw her hand up in annoyance.

“What?”

Alone in the cold, Y/n wrapped the opening of her fuzzy cardigan against her body, attempting to keep warm. Although warmth entered her vein as a pair of arms snaked around her waist, snatching her backwards into a firm surface. She gasped, thrown off by her attacker and tried to turn in retaliation, but their grasp was far too firm. The familiarity of the hold made her body ease up. As much time as the spent together, she could recognize his touch anywhere. Fred.

His touch released a swarm of butterflies through the girl. She could feel the anger washing away as she leaned her body into his chest, having pined for his arms for two too many days than she was accustomed to.

The tall Gryffindor held her tightly. Moving forward, Fred pressed his lips against the shell of Y/n’s ear. The heat of his breath causing her to shudder as he whispered,

“I’m so happy you came, darling.”

Y/n smirked, looking up at him. The concurrent willfulness of her nature could only carry on for so long until her headstrong demeanor crumbled. A pang of chagrin still grumbled in her stomach but the sight in front of her certainly was a runner in her change of heart.

Soaking in her surroundings, Y/n realized they were just a few hundred feet outside Hargid’s hut. This explained the garden full of massive orange pumpkins. In the middle of the path was a small gazebo decorated in fairy lights and sunflowers. A small table set for two was tucked inside. Small teacup white candles line the path, creating a runway of sorts. Another candle, larger and purple, sat flickering in the breeze in the center of the neat table.

Y/n stood motionless absorbing the creation her boyfriend made- all for her. Speechlessness was not common for Y/n so Fred undoubtably began to second guess if his efforts were good enough. His fears were stomped in a matter of moments when Y/n harshly yanked at the material of his collar and placed a brisk, short kiss to his lips. Fred was startled, losing the opportunity to kiss her back but Y/n didn’t want him to. It gave her a sense of control- they still had issues they needed to work out, but she loved him nonetheless. Besides, avoiding and staying mad at Fred forever? Impossible. In two days, Y/n had to stop herself a million different times from approaching Fred and sharing a laugh with him, or kissing him, or holding his hand and giving him a hug. She didn’t want to fight off the urge anymore- and Fred couldn’t handle the distance spaced between them. Thus, being the motivation for his grand, heartfelt, date.

“I’ll assume that means you like it. I won’t take all the credit- it was my idea, but our friends are the main reason I was able to pull this off. I feel really bad and… I need to do something special for you- I don’t do that enough lately. I forget sometimes to remind you how important you are in my life and how much I love you.” Fred sheepishly smiled, nervously awaiting her reaction.

The small table was set, a new bundle of crimson red roses placed on her seat. To the side of her plate was a small box with a beautifully wrapped ribbon tied to the top. Fred had a special way of showing his love and adoration for his girlfriend, but even this was new to her. Never before had he gone so over the top to prove his feelings to her.

Y/n lifted her hand and intertwined it with Fred’s, smiling up at him,

“It’s gorgeous, Freddie.” The bashful smile made Fred’s heart melt on sight. He had prepared himself for the repetitive rejection she had been sending, so when she whispered those sweet words, his chest tightened, and his pace stopped.

Fred almost fainted in shock at the sound of her voice. He squeezed her light hand and drew it back, forcing her body into his own. Y/n couldn’t help the laugh that fell from her lips. She missed his playful ways. With the foreheads pressed against each other, Fred grinned,

“I’ve missed your voice, love.”

Although his words made her heart take flight, the reality of her hurt was still roaming. Y/n detached herself from his grasp and rested her hand on the black metal table. Her fingertips fumbled with the white cloth, it served as a distraction only for a short period of time. Fred sent her a sorrowful look. Her shift in moods was confusing to him, he only wanted to make things better.

Y/n sighed and ran her hand through her h/c locks. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply then asked,

“Why don’t you have time for me anymore, Fred?” The question of the night- or rather month. His date was beautiful, absolutely stunning. As riveting as it was, it couldn’t erase the hurt she had been experiencing.

Fred shook his head frantically, dismissing the accusation. He knew why she would think that way, he understood. It wasn’t true, though. Actions speak louder than words and Fred despised the fact that recently, his feelings for Y/n weren’t lining up with his actions. His words could only do so much. But he also knew soon, things would be different. Missing the Hogsmeade date was his fault, and he paid for it. Two days might seem minute to most, but when you spend essentially everyday attached to someone’s hip, two days of them purposely ignoring you and speaking to every soul expect you, it can feel like a lifetime. He realized a few things in this time.

Fred remembered how fun it was to act as if he was still trying to win her over. Gifts, no matter their cost, always brought a gleam to her face which never failed to make Fred grin. However, it was much more entertaining when she wasn’t upset with him and would throw the flirtatious comments right back at him. He was also reminded of how lucky he was to be with Y/n. While she ignored him, Fred found himself envious of every living being Y/n spoke to, as they were not him. When he started engulfing himself in his plans for the joke shop, his effort in his relationship had decreased and this was something he vowed to never let happen again.

“I’ll always have time for you, darling. And if I don’t, I’ll make some. I truly am sorry about this weekend- you don’t deserve that.”

“It just seems like you’re distracted, like you don’t care anymore.” Y/n batted her reddening eyes, finally throwing her worries to the air.

“No, no, Y/n, not at all. I’m so sorry I made you feel that way, love. I’m a terrible excuse of a boyfriend, I never meant to create this mess. I love you so much.” Fred’s head bowed down. It tore him up to know the way his actions made her feel, the only girl he loved.

“I love you too, Freddie. I really do but I can’t feel alone in this relationship. I let our date Friday slide, even though I was annoyed, but Saturday night? I feel like it broke me. Just knowing you forgot about me-“ Y/n fought back the burning sensation in her eyes as the tears began to brim.

The anxiety blooming inside her was clear to Fred. Suppose that was the downside to dating your best friend, they can always tell when somethings wrong. Before a tear could hit the floor, he whisked her to the iron garden chair, then kneels before her, his hands holding her face as if it was a priceless, dainty piece of china.

“I didn’t forget about you, darling, that’s impossible to do. I’ve been… well I’ve been working on something with George for when we leave school next year. It’s real important to me and I wanted to share it with you but I was scared that it might not happen but… if I have your support and you with us, I know it’ll happen.”

“What’re you rambling on about, Fred?”

“Remember how I told you that George and I wanted to open a joke shop? Well, it’s happening… I think. We’re really close, we just gotta make it through next year then we’re free! We’ll have our own joke shop and get to sell our own products and start our future.”

A silence overtook the atmosphere. Y/n’s lips were stuck open in a small ‘o’ shape, eyes glued to the floor. Was he really going to leave her all alone next year? Would they have to break up? Surely, he wouldn’t want to be in a long-distance relationship.

She was snapped from her own mind when her skin registered the touch of Fred’s lips as they traced her knuckles, kissing each finger as he did. His eyes then peered up to meet her own. She could tell he was serious by the feeling of his stare. Then he continued, making Y/n perk up,

“But none of that can happen without you… Y/n I want you to come with me. Move in with George and I, start a future with me. We want you to be a part of the shop. I want you there. You’re the only girl I want, for the rest of my life.”

Her once open mouth clamped shut in a swift motion. Ever since she met the twins, Y/n wanted a future with Fred. Everyone saw it as a childhood crush, but she always knew it was more. She never stopped loving him- never could. Even when his pranks took a step too far over the line. They always found their way back to each other and would work through it. Fights such as the most recent were rare- but Fred’s admission filled in a lot of empty spaces that had left Y/n sleepless for days. Finally, the crushing weight was lifted from her chest as she choked out a shaky breath.

Leaping forward from the chair, Y/n threw her body into her boyfriend’s body and clamped him in a koloa like hold. Fred chuckled in amusement, falling onto the near ground at her jump.

“Why do you have to be so lovable? I hate it. I should be angry with you, but I just love you too much. Besides, I think you did enough suffering.” She giggled as she pinched his round cheeks in her hands. Fred poked his tongue out at her and grabbed at her sides. Y/n swatted his hands away, giving him a stern glare saying, ‘don’t push it’.

Slowly, she leaned down and brushed her lips against Fred’s, smirking down at him. It was a change in roles. In their more adult situations, Fred was typically the one on top with Y/n pinned below him, but that’s a story for another time.

A small, almost whimper, sound came from Fred. He hated being teased- that was his job. Dragging out the moment, Y/n tugged on the skin of his bottom lip with her teeth, earning a groan of approval from Fred. She grazed over his mouth one last time before dipping her head down to meet his and interlocking their lips, still straddling his waist. Fred’s hips pushed towards her core out of instinct. Not ready to give in quite yet, Y/n lifted her body and shifted forward, entrapping Fred even more so in the heated kiss.

They parted for seconds to sneak a bit of air, then continued their needed make out. It had been a while since they proved their love to each other in this way. For the last month, it had been small kisses here and there when the couple had a chance to see each other. Y/n needed his touch- she needed him. Fred longed to have under him, pleasuring her. He desperately wanted to sink his head between her legs and really show her just how much he loved her.

The coldness of his fingertips hit Y/n’s skin as his fingers dug into the sides of her waist. As much as she longed to keep the exchange going, the last thing either of them needed was a detention.

Y/n plucked herself away, a small pout lining Fred’s lips. His hands remained tied up in her own, lying them on his stomach. The weight of his question seeped in like molasses. Opportunities like this presented themselves once in a lifetime, there was no way Y/n was going to let it slip by.

Rolling off his lap, Y/n plopped down on the ground to the side of Fred. Their heads turned simultaneously towards each other, Fred winking to Y/n.

This is what she wanted. To see him care for her, show his love. His attention. It was the one thing she had been striving for but now that the cat, or rather joke shop, was out of the bag, Fred didn’t feel the need to hide anything from her anymore and keep his work to himself. He was over the moon with excitement to have her join George and himself. It was everything he could hope for.

Coyly averting her peer, Y/n asked,

“Do you really mean it, Fred? You really want me to come with you and George?”

Kindly, Fred swiped his thumb under her chin and raised her head up so their eyes were level.

“I wouldn’t want you anywhere else in the world then with me.” The serenity in his voice didn’t go unnoticed. Y/n propped herself up to her elbows and brought Fred in a bone crushing hug. Heavy chuckles croaked from Fred as she smothered him lovingly. He managed to sneak in a tiny peck to her check and she hugged him. Placing her head on his shoulder, Y/n poked the side of Fred’s cheek, commenting,

“You’re gonna be stuck with me forever, Fred, I love it!”

Throwing his arm around the elated girl, Fred just smirked.

“Duh, that’s kind the whole point of you moving in with me.” He replied in a matter-of-fact tone. The night was growing darker and the steady wind was escalating. In an hour, two if they were lucky, Filch would be surveying the grounds in search of students, mainly Fred and George, out past curfew. It was a sport to him, catching students breaking rules and getting to turn them in. It was part of his job, yes, but Y/n hated that he never took it easy on anything for the Gryffindors like he did the Slytherins. Fred looked at the scenery around them and remarked,

“Y’know, angel, as much as I’d love to spend the rest of the night laying with you in my arms, we can do that in my dorm room tonight… in an actual bed instead of dirt. I mean, we didn’t set up this whole thing for nothing! If I knew laying in the dirt would win you back, you should’ve told me!” His sarcastic words were received with a light slap.

“Smart ass.” Y/n rolled her eyes teasingly and started to sit up. Before she could get to her feet, a pair of hands planted themselves at her waist and lifted her. Fred had his moments, but he was always a gentleman to her. His teasing ways were comforting to Y/n, reminding her that they were good now, in comparison to the recent downfalls.

Fred helped Y/n to her seat, then jogged over to his own. He presented the girl with a cake he made for her. Hermione brought him to the kitchens and taught him how to make one. It took about three hours, he burnt the first, put too many eggs in the second, then forgot to add eggs to the third. Finally, on the fourth attempt, Fred created a passable cake. Hermione had no desire to spend any more time in the kitchen, so she quickly frosted it for him, not wanting him to ruin it this far in, then covered it and locked it in the fridge. Much to Y/n’s surprise, it was one of the best homemade cakes she’d ever had. Her teeth were practically chattering from the intense amount of sugar, but she had to keep in mind it was Fred who baked it.

After eating, Fred and Y/n took their sweet time strolling around the castle. Fred swung his hand back and forth, causing the same effect to Y/n’s. They laughed feverishly as Fred chased Y/n up the moving stairs as they raced to the common room. When they entered the room, they sprinted straight for Fred’s, still in a chase. Hermione, Ron, Harry, George, Angelina, and Lee all watched in amusement as the couple seemed to be reunited.

“Wonder if they’re back together. You guys think the date worked?”

Everyone shared glances at the obliviousness of Ron. There were times when social cues and context clues just didn’t exist to Ron. George scoffed at his little brother and shook his head. The rest of the group roared with laughter as Ron’s face scrunched in irritation.

“Not sure, Ron. Why don’t you go out to our room and ask them?” George smirked mischievously causing Ron to turn white as a ghost in realization. A faint ‘oh’, tumbled out of his lips and his eyes went wide.

Despite their assumption, up in the top room in the Gryffindor boy’s dormitory, Fred Weasley laid snoring in his large mattress, still in his school robes. Squished against his chest by his arms, Y/n was sound asleep, similarly dressed. The two didn’t care what they looked like or who came in, as long as they were together, that’s all that mattered.

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shoutogepi · 4 years

Text

Worth the Wait

Todoroki Shouto

word count : 9.2k

[ ☁︎, ☀︎, ✘ (nsfw 18+) ] (v lowkey angst//fluff)

themes : virgin!Shouto, experienced!reader (well, more than Sho anyway lol), praise kink?, lil baby couples quarrel, make up sex, and also he’s kinda hung lmfao idk if that’s relevant 💀

bio : You can’t help but notice that every time things start to heat up with your Pro-Hero boyfriend, he shuts you down. After politely ignoring his initial rejections, your frustrations build up, and you decide to confront him.

author’s note : so this fic was inspired by a conversation with the lovely astrid ( @todoscript ), who is becoming my cherished shouto confidante! we didn’t talk about it for very long, and it was awhile ago... but my brain would not move on so… this happened. i figured if i’m going to type so much about him i may as well write a fic. thanks for listening to my constant yelling, hope you enjoiii <3

side note : both shouto and reader are meant to be young adults in this fic!! i was thinking somewhere around 25-30 (i didn’t specify the age in the fic) but i thought i would make note of this as that’s considered “old” to still have your v-card, by American society at least (hence why sho kept that info from reader)

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

🅃he first time it happened, you tried to play it off as if you hadn’t made a move.

The last few of your friends had finally departed from the Saturday game night you had thrown, leaving just you, Shouto, and the slow, hot tango of your tongues. You hadn’t seen each other all week— with him being busy with his hero work, and you being busy with your comparatively-mundane job, you didn’t get to spend as much time together as you would have liked. Although it was an obstacle for your relationship, you were both young adults as well as devoted professionals, which allowed the two of you to remain on the same page most of the time. It was typical for you to text and call one another for a few hours after work (granted you both had the time to spare) before passing out mid-conversation, your phone screen still lit up and gentle snores exchanged through the speakers. But like any sane girlfriend, having him in person, right in front of you, was always your favorite.

What had started as a peck had quickly evolved into a full on make-out session— Shouto had pulled you halfway onto his lap when you tried to move back from your initially-stealthy kiss, an appreciative hum rumbling through him as his large hands cupped around your face. You didn’t fight him as he brought your lips back to his, and you failed to stop him when those very same hands began to glide down your back, parking just above your ass. His fingers had gradually started to fiddle with the tops of your jeans, thumb running over the denim and dipping down to graze against your skin through your thin blouse.

Yet when your hands slipped underneath the bottom of his shirt, he pulled back from you, heterochromatic eyes guarded as he removed your hands. You had immediately picked up on his reluctance, and threw yourself off of him onto the other side of the couch, embarrassment scorching the back of your neck. Shouto left not long after that, for you had made up some lousy excuse that you were tired and would like to go to sleep, when sleep was really the opposite of your innermost desires.

This would have been all fine and good— because consent was consent after all, and you had no intentions of pushing him to do something he was uncomfortable with— had the same thing not happened just two weeks later. There you were thinking it would be a cute, coupley evening of watching movies and tossing popcorn at each other, resting your head against his shoulder and being content with just that— when then all of the sudden he was pinning you onto the sheets and kissing you til you couldn’t breathe. His hands, once again, wandered all over your clothed torso, palms mapping out each dip and curve as his tongue entertained yours in your mouth.

You were hesitant to kiss him at first, recalling how you had horrifically killed the mood last time, but as his advances became more passionate, you slowly allowed your defenses to slip back, excitement building inside of you. It was only when your legs tightened around his waist, your core brushing up along his thigh and causing you to let out the softest moan did he pull back. That same calm, cool expression was on his face, though his eyes were a bit wider than usual. There was also the tiniest hint of pink dusting his pale cheeks, his lips parted as he gathered himself. It was rather awkward after that— neither of you really knew what to say— so you crawled back to your spot and sat in silence for the rest of the movie, your hands eventually wandering out to hold onto each other. After sharing a soft kiss and exchanging “goodnight”s, you returned to your place, ready for an extra long appointment with your vibrator.

Unfortunately for you, this became a common occurrence. It wasn’t that you hated the steamy make-out sessions with your as-hot-as-they-come boyfriend, no— you thoroughly enjoyed them. The part that you absolutely loathed was returning to your place with your panties soaked all the way through, your sexual frustration meter only climbing higher and higher.

You loved your boyfriend! And of course you respected his wishes. You would wait for however long he wanted, because you wanted your first time together to be special. But fuck, did he have to heat you up just to leave you hanging every time? If he wanted to wait, then fine! But, God, what had you done to deserve this torture? You couldn’t get past first base— you’d never even rubbed your body erotically against his except for that time on his bed, and that was by accident!

And that was what you told the ladies during your Thursday night all-girl conference call, finally needing to vent and get this selfish feeling off your chest. It had been a long time coming, quietly brewing over the many instances of him stunting your advances that you came to a realization.

Enough was enough! You were going to ask him why he wouldn’t go any further with you, and whatever his answer may be, at least you would know what he was thinking! You felt like a weight had been lifted off of you, the girls cheering you on and wishing you luck as you said goodbye, ready to confront him.

— - — - — - — - —

Now that you’re standing here in front of his door, it seems like a foolish plan you’ve made. Your heart is beating out of your chest, thumping frantically against your ribcage as your fist is frozen in the air, knuckle about to connect with the door. Your stomach feels tight and low, throat dry with apprehension as your brain runs through every possible outcome. What would he say once you ask him your question?

Perhaps your breath stinks and it turns him off? Or maybe he doesn’t like the perfume you wear— or is it the way you dress that he doesn’t like? What if the reason he always stops you… is because he’s not sexually attracted to you?

Now that you think about it, you’ve never seen him pop a boner during your tongue wrestling matches, and the realization nearly causes your soul to leave your body. Even though the thought horrifies you, you try your best to reassure yourself that’s not the case. You had caught Shouto checking you out on multiple occasions, his eyes igniting a delicious heat on your skin. Whatever the case, you’re in this too deep to chicken out now. So with that, you let your knuckles rap on the door, steeling your nerves.

There’s a moment of quiet shuffling before your boyfriend opens the door, a pleasantly surprised smile on his face. His hair is wet and freshly washed, shining droplets collecting at the ends and making him appear even more handsome than usual. The gray tee thrown over his broad shoulders has damp spots from the runoff, and you take a second to admire the way his chest looks in the clingy material. “Hey, love,” he says, his voice alone causing goosebumps to rise along your forearms.

You allow him to guide you into his apartment, the door clicking shut behind him quietly. “Hi Sho,” you greet back, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and leaning up to kiss him.

Shouto chuckles against your eager lips, long arms gathering you into his chest. When he pulls away, he tucks your head underneath his chin, placing another kiss on your crown. “I missed you.”

Your heart throbs, happiness surging through you and butterflies bursting into your stomach. “I missed you more,” you reply playfully, burying your face between his broad pecs and inhaling his warm, wintery scent. The smell of fresh detergent lingers on the fabric, mixing with his clean aroma and making your tummy flip in circles.

“Impossible,” Shouto quips back, holding your waist tight as he dips you backwards just enough for your feet to leave the ground before he presses his lips to yours again, rendering you breathless. He pulls you back upright after a moment, a cheeky smirk on his face as you try to remember what you were talking about before. “Come in, sit down. I was just finishing up some work, I’ll get you something to drink.”

Following his instruction, you move further into his apartment, gravitating toward the couch and inspecting the files laid out on the coffee table before you. The words blur together for you, the foreign hero work forms long and in what might as well be another language. You lean back onto the cushions as Shouto returns, a glass of water in his hand. Frost forms on the glass as he hands it to you, taking a seat beside you with his knee brushing against yours. You smile at his consideration, taking a small sip even though you’re not really thirsty.

“Was there something you came over here for specifically, love? Forgive me if I’ve forgotten, but I don’t believe we had plans?” He’s looking directly at you, eyes locked with yours as his hand comes to land on the top of your knee. Even just an innocent movement like that has you on alert, your breath catching in your throat as he gives a gentle squeeze.

“Uh… no reason,” you answer lamely, crumbling under the pressure of his watchful eyes. “Just wanted to see you.”

Shouto’s gaze lingers on you carefully, and for a second you feel like you’ve been caught in a trap. But he lets it go, his lips forming a soft smile as he lays his arm around your shoulders. “Well, I’m glad to see you too,” he replies honestly. His fingers caress your arm as his hand falls down to your waist, and he leans in to press another kiss to your cheek. You lean into his affection, mouth curving in content. “So, what would you like to do?” Shouto asks as he shuffles the files away into their manilla envelopes, creating a neat pile in the far corner of the table. He leans back into the cushions, fingers fondly stroking at your side. “We could go out to eat? We could try this new bar afterwards, too, it’s across from my agency. If you’re alright to go out.”

You can’t focus on his words, really— you’re too lost in your own thoughts. Why does he have to touch you like this every time, when if you act on it, he’ll only push you away? You’ve been together for a long while now, and still, he doesn’t take initiative to further your relationship. Every bone you’ve thrown his way has been perfectly deflected, with no sign of weariness from him. If he doesn’t want you, is it because he’s not into you anymore?

An ugly thought rears its head in the midst of your anxiety’s dark clouds.

Maybe he never was.

Taking your silence as an answer, Shouto continues on, looking towards the kitchen over his shoulder. “Or we could buy groceries and make dinner. I think I have bok choy in the fridge, but we’ll have to buy some meat. And noodles, if you want those instead of rice. I’m sure I have that sesame sauce you like, I—” He pauses as you grab his hand, your fingers looping tight around his warm palm, sliding them to rest on your thigh.

With the summer just fading into fall, you were wearing something to showcase the smooth expanse of your thighs, and as you guide his hand to touch your soft skin, a delicate blush blooms across Shouto’s cheeks. The flustered expression on his face only goads you on, and you lean in to capture his lips.

A muffled noise escapes him, your hand coming up to touch his jaw and rub your thumb against his chin. It only takes him a moment to recalibrate before his free hand rises and copies your actions, gliding down the back of your neck before pulling your face closer to his.

You run your tongue against the seam of his mouth, and he swiftly grants you access as his lips move to follow yours. He tastes like mint and sweet herbs, the tea he was entertaining before you came lingering on his tongue. His hand slips out of yours to curl around your waist, grabbing onto your hip and squeezing. As your kisses start getting heavier and slower, your once-occupied hand moves to land on his chest, your thumb pushing into the tender muscle located there. His flesh jumps beneath your touch, but he allows you to continue groping at him through his shirt, his own hands beginning to knead at you. Before you know it, your knee swings over his thighs and you’re hovering on top of his lap, not sitting down on him just yet as you realize the position you’ve put yourself in.

You can notice the change— you’ve faced this exact scenario many times before. Shouto’s hands freeze up, locking into their current position, and he only returns your passionate kisses, not allowing his body much more movement than that. You try to just keep kissing him, but all the doubts and fears quickly pile up inside of you, and you pull away from him. You can’t even look at him. You’re too scared to speak, and too reluctant to get off of him, only leaning back to create a divide between his face and yours. Trying to hide your face before he can see your defeated expression, you dive into his chest, arms folding tight around his neck.

Shouto’s still frozen in place, but he seems to sense your distress. His arms slowly circle around your waist, fingers moving to trace up and down your spine. He softly exhales against your hair, letting out the breath he was holding in ever since you swung onto his lap. “Y/N? Are you alright?” he asks quietly after a brief pause, his voice soft and low, soothing to your wary ears. “You haven’t been acting like yourself today…”

After a long pause, you sigh, trying your best not to get emotional. “It’s just…” I’m so fucking attracted to you but you won’t let me touch you, you want to say, but you’re too terrified to say it aloud. What can you even say to him that would be better than that?

Shouto’s arms around you squeeze gently, indicating his patience in awaiting your answer. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, his lips grazing over your ear and placing a discreet kiss there. “Whatever it is, we can face it together.”

You let out a soft sniffle and Shouto pulls you tighter into his chest, his heart cracking at your sound of sadness. But his words bring a surprising amount of comfort to you, and you clear your throat before you lean back again, looking into his two-toned irises. His gaze is sympathetic, his eyes holding a visible amount of affection and support. “Well, I…”

He nods slightly, leaning forward to show his encouragement. “Go ahead, love…”

“Are… Are you attracted to me?”

It comes out more high-pitched than you would’ve liked, but at least it’s out— and he definitely heard you, judging from the wide-eyed shock painted across his face.

“Am I— What?” He stutters, his head tilting automatically in confusion. “I— of course I’m attracted to you, I’m… you’re my girlfriend.” Shouto looks at you incredulously, his arms falling to his side so that only his hands remain on your hips. “You’re the most attractive person I know, love. You’re gorgeous, inside and out,” he elaborates. “The whole package.”

His compliments butter you up, a small smile forming on your lips as you shyly look to your hands folded in your lap. “Not the whole package…” you mumble, squirming slightly as his hands come to hold either side of your face.

“Yes, the whole package,” he insists, nuzzling your nose against his. “Beautiful,” he declares as he kisses your cheek.

“Kind.” A smooch to the other cheek.

Your heart beats excitedly in your chest, thumping loudly against your ribs with each compliment.

“Courageous.” A kiss to the chin.

“Witty.” A peck to the forehead.

“Sexy?” you blurt it out just as he swoops in to press his lips to yours.

Shouto falters, pulling back just a hair as he looks at you in shock. “S-Sexy?” He doesn’t mean for it to come out as a question, but by the way his cheeks and ears are tinged a bright pink, it’s clear your suggestion was a bit too much for him.

The way he stutters out the adjective in confusion has your heart tearing in two. “Y-You don’t…?”

You’re staring directly at him, his wide eyes locked with yours and his body frozen to the couch. His lips are slightly parted, but no words come out of him.

Silence.

This is not how you want this conversation to go— you aren’t prepared for it to go like this. The tears you had successfully fought off before come back with vengeance.

Only once Shouto sees you hang your head in embarrassment, your eyes getting glassier by the second, he springs into action. “Hey, no, that’s not…” he starts to speak, sounding more worried by the second. His hand goes to cup your face, the warmth of his quirk evident in his touch as his finger dries over a fresh track of tears on your cheek. “I… of course I think you’re sexy, love. I’m sorry, you just caught me by surprise… You don’t think I know how sexy you are?”

You can only reply with a lame shrug, unwilling to let his eyes meet yours as you hide your face behind your curtain of hair. You try to slide off his lap, ready to retreat to the bathroom and wipe away your pathetic tears, but Shouto doesn’t let you move away from him, his arms locking tight around your waist and forcing you to lean against his chest.

“Talk to me, baby,” he pleads, nuzzling into the side of your face. His voice is more gentle than you’ve ever heard before, and you hate to admit your stomach is doing cartwheels at how sweet he’s being. “I love you no matter what, and I hate to see you so upset. I’m not good at figuring these things out on my own, just tell me what’s wrong, love. Please?”

He gives you a few moments to gather yourself, his fingers massaging your stiff muscles as you cling onto him. Once you’re confident enough to speak, your words come out barely loud enough for him to hear. “It’s just that… whenever I think we’re about to take it to the next level, you pull away. I want to respect your boundaries, Sho, but I can’t help but feel like it’s because you don’t… want me.” The hands on your body still at that, your boyfriend taking in a sharp breath as you pause, then decide to continue. “I’m just… so attracted to you, Shouto… I want to be mindful of your limits, but I can’t help but want to touch you all the time. I’m— I’m sorry if that sounds indecent.”

Shouto murmurs your name lowly against your ear, his large palm once again rubbing over your spine in an effort to comfort you as he tries to piece together the correct words. “This is… a terrible miscommunication, and it’s all my fault...” he sighs, his voice dropping lower and becoming quieter, his insecurities leaking into his voice. “I’m so sorry to have made you feel like this… I promise that’s not the case.”

His words are enough to numb your worries, and you lean back so you’re able to look him in the eye as you wait for him to continue. He takes a deep breath before he sighs again, knowing he has to tell you the truth now, but worrying that he’s about to ruin everything the two of you have built over these past months.

“The reason that I push you away every time is… well, I—” he gulps nervously, and it’s your turn to look at him with encouragement. You take one of his hands in yours, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles as he tries to find the best way to explain his reasoning. “It’s not because you’re unattractive, it’s— I mean, if anything, you’re too… too attractive, and I get…” he trails off, his cheeks now a bright shade of pink that you’ve never really seen before. It’s the first time you’ve seen the usually collected man so flustered, and a part of you feels guilty for causing him such discomfort. Just as you’re about to cut in and tell him he doesn’t have to continue, he does. “I… I’ve never been with anyone… like that before.”

You blink at him in confusion.

Shouto just seems to get even pinker, and he quickly starts explaining himself as he takes in your dazed expression. “I know you probably thought I had all this experience because I’ve been a top Hero for some time now, but I just— I never met anyone before that cared about me like this and I just never wanted to do— well, to do that with a stranger.”

“You’re… a virgin?”

Shouto’s red at this point, his hot side nearly catching fire as he buries his face behind his hand, too embarrassed to face you at this point. “Yes, I’m sorry to disappoint you, love. I just… I’ve never felt like this about anyone before and I— I wanted to impress you so badly, Y/N. I… I should’ve told you this from the start, I’m so sorry to have caused you such doubt.”

His voice is just above a whisper now, his fingers clutching onto the fabric of your shirt as if he’s afraid you’ll get off his lap and walk straight out the front door at his confession. “Shouto…” You can’t stop the smile that begins to curl the corners of your mouth. This is the reason he wouldn’t go any further with you? Not because he didn’t find you attractive? Your heart feels heavy thumping against your ribcage, giddiness flooding your bloodstream.

Your boyfriend gapes at your smile, brows furrowed in confusion. “Wait, you’re not… disappointed?” At the instant shake of your head, his discomfort eases significantly. “R-Really? But everyone thinks I’m, well… kind of a womanizer I guess, I thought you’d at least expect—”

You click your tongue at him, shaking your head as you tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. “When have I ever given a shit about others’ expectations of you, Shouto? I love you for you, Sho… you make me so happy just as you are.”

Shouto melts at your words, a sigh of relief escaping his lungs as he crushes you to his chest. Your sweet scent fills his nose as he kisses the top of your head, and you bask in his touch as you hug him back. “You’re right, love, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner… I hate that you felt unwanted because of me. I promise, you’re the only one I’ve ever felt this way about, I— I’m so attracted to you as well. I love you so much.”

Your lips meet his in a passionate kiss, all the hurt and doubts that built over the last few months dissolving into the shadows. Only the light, warm feeling of your love is left behind, glowing brighter than ever before.

Shouto’s fingers crawl up the back of your neck, bringing your face closer to his as he deepens the kiss, his tongue sweeping across your lips before you allow him entrance. Your fingers push into his silky hair, nails gently scratching at his scalp and he groans at the action, letting your tongue take control and invade his mouth instead. Your breaths starting to become ragged, you both pull away for a moment to breathe. As you look into each others’ eyes, you both begin to laugh softly, the pair of you equally content with how your heart-to-heart had gone.

“So, you do think I’m sexy, then?” You smirk, pleased with this new knowledge.

Shouto chuckles, nudging your face to the side so he can place a trail of kisses down the column of your throat. “Is that all you got from that?” He teases, nipping at your skin playfully.

You close your eyes, enjoying how his love bites feel on your quickly-heating flesh. “One of a few things…” Your breathing becomes deeper as his lips begin to gently suck on the faded marks he’d just made. “Mmm, Sho~”

He hums as your arms wrap tight around his shoulders, tongue caressing the skin he’s sucked into his mouth. Your thighs twitch on either side of his lap when he pulls away, cold breath cooling the wet, darkened patch of skin on your throat. He swears under his breath as his hands trail down your waist to your hips, thumbs resting on the top of your bottoms.

“Would you, um… want to try something new, then?” You offer, sitting back to look him in the eye, ready to catch any amount of uncertainty in his two-toned gaze. But you find none, for he captures your lips again and nibbles on your bottom lip, another hum or approval vibrating against your mouth.

From there he hands the reins to you, opting to lean back into the cushions of the sofa as your tongue guides his in a slow embrace. Your palms both land on his chest, fingertips starting to massage the thick muscles underneath his t-shirt. Shouto sighs as your hands slide down his torso, and just as they dip underneath he sits up slightly, tearing the flimsy material over his head in one quick sweep. With the fabric out of your way, you try to keep yourself calm, your eyes now feasting on his broad, sculpted chest and abs. Saliva begins to pool in your mouth at the wonderful sight, your tongue poking out to wet your lips as you scan over his physique again and again.

Just as he’s about to make fun of your lustful stare, you move in to place a few light kisses to his jaw and neck, the action making him tense up and flex his gorgeous torso for you. Careful not to leave any marks on his throat, you make your way down his chest, taking a moment to leave a ring of wet smooches around his nipple. The muscles jump again for you, his body sensitive to your foreign touch as you slowly take the bud into your mouth, sucking just enough for him to squirm.

“That kind of… ahh, tickles,” Shouto mumbles as your tongue traces over his skin, his bottom lip between his teeth as you move to the other side of his chest and repeat the action. He sighs as you pull away, welcoming the kiss you place on his lips afterwards. His abs become rigid underneath the slow trail of your fingernails that move south, his eyes opening mid-way through the kiss as your hand grows closer and closer to his pelvis.

Just as he’s about to pull away, you move back from his mouth, your shirt flying over your head and onto the floor behind you. Shouto can barely breathe as he looks at your bare skin, the smooth expanse of your shoulders to your hips on display for him, save for the bra covering your chest. He’s fixated on the tops of your breasts, the round, smooth flesh mesmerizing him completely. Sure, he’s seen your cleavage before, but in comparison to this, that’s nothing.

“W-Wow…” he falters, struggling to tear his gaze off of them. There’s a little bow in the middle of the cloth contraption, and he can’t help but compare the sight before him to a present. Oh, how he wants to unwrap it…

You giggle at his awe-struck expression, your self-esteem soaring higher than it has in months. Just as you’re about to instruct him, he moves a hand to cup one side of your bra, his thumb running over your skin. A whimper escapes you when he squeezes you, his face moving closer so that the tip of his nose runs across your collarbone, his lips ghosting kisses across your chest. You wonder if he can feel your heart racing beneath his lips as they trace the cusp of your bra— how it races when he presses his face between your tits, inhaling the warm, clean smell of you that lingers there. “M-Mphhh, Sho…” you sigh as he sucks a hickey into your skin, his mouth pulling your flesh out from under the fabric cup.

Your hands fumble as they move behind your back to undo the clasp, but Shouto doesn’t have time for that, it seems. Instead, he opts to push the straps from your shoulders, tugging the bottom of the material down your ribs and completely exposing your chest to him without ever moving his mouth from your skin. You still manage to unclasp the confining material, letting it fall to the ground without a care. When he does finally let go of you, he moves back to examine your naked chest, his lower lip disappearing between his straight, white teeth. His eyes are half-lidded, and he dives straight back into your chest, circling around your areola with swift kisses and teasing licks, repeating the same process you had done to him. His warm mouth enveloping your nipple makes you let out a stifled cry, your hips jerking against his lap on their own accord.

Shouto moans at the movement, his hand gently squeezing your other breast as he sucks on the pert bud in his mouth, tongue swirling around it with ease. You reposition so your legs are on either side of one of his, placing your clothed core against the rough material of his jeans and beginning to move your hips in slow, wide movements. It only urges Shouto on, for he switches his attention to the other side of his chest and repeats the same ministrations there, one hand coming to cup your ass and move in tune with your slow gyrations.

At this point you can feel yourself leaking onto your panties, your excitement only multiplying as he allows you to grind against him. You’d never imagined he’d be so eager to touch you, after so much time of him rejecting your advances. But you couldn’t care about that now, with your pussy brushing all over his muscular thigh and his mouth attacking your bare chest. The thrill only increases further when you readjust your hips, moving closer to him and feeling the hardness of his erect cock tucked into the front of his pants. You can feel your cunt twitching around nothing, drooling even more for him as you rub yourself against his front, your head falling back as you start to pant.

Shouto whines at the friction, his face falling into the corner of your neck as he tries to gather himself. Was this what he had been missing out on all this time? He sighs as he wonders what you look like completely naked— how you would look with your legs spread for him, wrapped around his skull, or better yet— his waist. The knowledge that you want him is too tempting— he can’t get enough of you, can’t stop himself from shoving his thumbs under the hem of your bottoms. And then you’re standing, letting your clothing hit the floor and leaving yourself exposed for his eyes, save for your panties which have another little bow at the front. His eyes travel up and down your legs— a part of you that has always attracted him, perhaps a bit too much. They look delicious presented like this before him, bare and inviting all along your calves and thighs, then leading to the panties that barely cover your hips. His cock twitches in his jeans as he inspects the marks he’d just made all across your chest, a possessive conscience inside of him murmuring its satisfaction.

“Is this okay?” You ask as you sink to your knees in front of the couch, looking up at him with cautious, yet lust-ridden eyes. The recognition of your desire makes his own appetite spike, and he nods his affirmation to you.

You smirk up at him, moving closer to him and sliding between his legs. He holds his breath as you start to kiss up his thigh, starting from the inside of his knee and moving your way toward your destination. Your hand reaches up to soothe down his chest, your other hand cupping the underside of his thigh and moving in sync with your mouth. Your fingers finally meet the button on his jeans, and he lets out the breath he was holding as you undo the metal zipper. He helps you peel the denim off his thighs, leaving the material bunched at his knees as you inspect his hard member through his tight, black boxer-briefs. You take a moment to thank whatever God there is for blessing you with such a nice cock; you can tell even through his underwear that he’s long, and thick.

The very tip pokes out of the band at the top, him having tucked it up at some point when the pair of you were initially making out. What you can see is dark pink and glazed with a pearlescent sheen of pre-cum, the material at the top of his briefs slightly damp. The legs on either side of you keep tensing and fidgeting, and as you reach a hand for his shaft his hips shift backwards, away from your touch.

“Hey,” you murmur softly, stroking his thigh as you look up at him. His expression is guarded, but you can see the uncertainty that shines through his gaze, the mask that successfully keeps others out futile to you. “Are you sure you want to continue? It’s okay if we stop here, baby.” You push yourself to sit taller using the tops of his knees, placing a long kiss to his cheek and giving him a nuzzle of understanding.

Shouto frowns, leaning into you and taking a deep breath. “No, I want to… I just, I guess I’m a little nervous? I’m not quite sure what to do…” he explains, unsure of himself.

“You don’t have to do anything,” you reply, kissing his cheek again as you continue. “Just sit back and relax, baby. I promise I’m gonna take care of you, gonna make you feel so good. Let me know if you want to stop at any time, alright?”

He smiles at your understanding, nodding and verbalizing an “Alright” before you capture his lips with yours. You kiss him with all the passion you can muster, and it distracts him enough to relax into the couch cushions, your hand coming up to cup his sharp jawline. Your tongues are busy tangling together when your hand lands on his abs, which jump under your touch but eventually they, too, relax after a few minutes.

When your fingers wrap around his cock through his briefs, he tenses underneath you again, his hips pushing toward you as your hand starts to move up and down. Shouto makes a muffled noise as your hand finds a steady, torturously slow rhythm, your hand squeezing around his thick shaft through the dark, cotton material. His hand comes up to the back of your neck to deepen the kiss, fingers curling into the hair at the nape of your neck and pulling slightly. You move your hand in accordance with the muffled sounds that escape him through your kiss, his hushed moans adding fuel to the inferno in your stomach.

After a few minutes of your slow, over-the-briefs handjob, you move back from his searing kiss, a string of saliva extending between your mouths. Your eyes lock with his, intensity sizzling as you both move the briefs off his legs, his cock springing upright in the bottom field of your vision. His length jumps when your fingers brush against the tip, gathering the silvery slickness of his pre-cum and using it to coast your fist down around his shaft, squeezing just enough to create a pleasant tightness around him.

Shouto swears as you start to jerk your fist around his thickness, your smaller hand creating a different sensation and much more appealing visual than the sight of his own fingers wrapped around himself. He moans when your hand glides over the head of his cock, his grip tightening on your hair as his eyelids flutter closed. You kiss his cheek again, catching his attention as he turns to you and allows your tongue to enter his mouth. You take all the whimpers pouring from his lips and greedily swallow them, your lips dancing with his in tune with your strokes.

Slowly you move away from his face, his lips following yours until you gently push him back to rest against the back of the sofa again. He allows you to move him backwards, heaving for air as your hot and heavy kisses leave him breathless. Once you lower your face to his lap, he tenses up, although his hips shuffle forward eagerly. You make sure to lock eyes with him as you move your mouth towards the flushed head of his cock, and you keep his gaze steady as your lips wrap around the very tip of him.

“S-Shit Y/N,” he gasps, watching as his member gradually disappears into your mouth. You glide your lips down his thick length slowly, trying not to overwhelm him as you start to suck on the tip, your hand beginning to jerk his shaft at the same time. When your lips move down, so does your hand, and as Shouto becomes accustomed to the wet, tight heat of your mouth, you slowly take more and more of him into your mouth, until the head of his cock brushes the back of your throat. Shouto throws his head back onto the top of the cushions, a hand pushing his hair off his forehead and backwards as he loudly voices his pleasure in a cacophony of moans.

The noises that slither out of the man underneath you are delicious, and you can’t seem to get enough as your pace begins to pick up. Your hand is still wrapped around the base of his length, his cock too big to fit all the way in your throat, but that doesn’t stop you from trying to take him anyways. Pulling back just long enough to take in a breath of fresh air, you smile at his wrecked expression above you, tongue tracing over your lips. “Mmm, does that feel good, baby? Do you like when I suck your cock like this?”

“Ahhaaaa, fuck— y-yeah, like that, baby… yesyesyes you feel so good,” Shouto blabbers nearly incoherently as your throat glides around his aching member. Given his stuttered response, you happily service him, content to finally have him at your disposal. His length is too impressive to comfortably fit in your mouth, your jaw stretching to accommodate him as you swallow around him, successfully stealing a broken gasp from him in response. You close your eyes and allow yourself to focus on keeping a steady rhythm for both your mouth and hand to follow. His moans just keep getting louder, a breathless array of oh, fuck, shit, yeah, ahh, and yeses with every bob of your head.

As you’re diligently sucking him off, Shouto is barely keeping it together underneath you. His cock is twitching and leaking pre-cum down your throat, his balls heavy with the need to release. He watches your lips move up and down his length, your hand following suit at the very base. His mind wanders as he wonders where you want him to finish; inside your mouth, on your tits, on your face? He groans as he pictures all three, imagining you covered in his sticky seed, wherever it may end up, has him feeling close much too quick. But he can’t stop himself, and he can’t bring himself to stop you, either— you feel so fucking good on his cock. You’re better than he ever could imagine, and it’s just your mouth that’s wrapped around him— he can’t even imagine how between your legs will feel. He barely manages to mumble your name in warning as he feels his climax coming, too charged for him to do anything to stop it.

Luckily you already know he’s about to finish, for his muscles tighten up and strain as ample warning for his imminent release. You move your lips down his cock, taking in as much as you can before he’s calling out your name and shooting a thick, heavy load down your throat. You choke on his release, not much room in your mouth to begin with, with how long and thick he is already. He’s still gushing cum as you pull off of him, a few ropes of white spraying across your lips and chin while his body shakes in ecstasy.

You sit back and wipe his release off your face with your wet hand, licking the excess off your skin as you watch Shouto’s soul return to his body. He’s struggling to catch his breath, eyes barely open as he looks down at you sitting between his legs. Despite the heaviness in his limbs, he still gathers your arms in his hands, pulling you up onto the sofa to hover over his lap. He sighs as he nuzzles his face into your neck, your soft skin helping to draw him back from the euphoric heaven you had just sent him to. His arms wrapping around you loosely, he starts to kiss your neck, his long eyelashes tickling your jaw as he showers your skin in affection. His attention makes butterflies flap around inside your stomach, and that scorching heat ignites again as his fingers slide down your waist to the band of your panties.

You try to draw back to look at him, but Shouto’s grip on you is too secure, and he won’t let you pull away from him as he just nuzzles deeper into your neck. You can’t help but gasp when his fingers dive underneath the sides of your panties— his palms gliding against your bare hips and digits splaying across your ass. “S-Sho,” you whine as he cups your ass cheeks, pulling your hips to slot above his, his cock already erect again. You whimper when he guides you closer to him, the very tip of his cock catching at just the right angle to brush against the wet patch on your underwear. Hell, the whole underside of your panties is soaked with your arousal, your pussy probably more saturated than ever before. You’re so turned on, you can’t think straight as your hips begin to weakly shift back and forth, rubbing his cockhead along your clothed slit.

Shouto sighs as his hand recedes from your panties, instead moving to rub your dripping slit through the drenched material. You moan at the feeling of his hand through the fabric, your slick in such quantity that when he pulls his hand away, a thick string of your arousal trails after his fingers. He groans at the sight, rubbing his thumb and forefinger together to test the viscosity. He makes a mental note that this must be what’s meant when one has a “wap”, or “wet ass pussy”, as he recalls from a certain song. His heart is racing in his chest, the discovery of your cunt so ready for him only making his cock strain harder against your sopping panties.

“So wet…” Shouto mumbles as he touches you again, cupping your core through your underwear and rubbing his palm against your clit. He watches intently as your face contorts in pleasure, and he rolls his palm against your front again experimentally, making a mental note of your increased sensitivity there.

Before he moves any further though, he presses his lips to yours in an intense kiss, successfully distracting you as he slides your underwear to the side. He can feel your pussy twitch and contract against his hand when he lines the tips of two fingers up with the hole that your slick is pouring out of. And he can definitely feel you spasm around him as he slides the digits inside with ease, remembering to curl the tips of them just as the countless guides and videos he had watched in preparation for such activities suggested.

“Y-Yes, ahh my God, Sho—” you gasp at the intrusion, your walls fluttering around the fingers.

His long digits slowly move in and out of you, the tips curling into your spongy walls as they sheath inside you completely. You moan at the sensation of his fingers inside of you, moving a hand to your front to rub your clit. It’s not long before you’re humping his hand, your arousal leaking onto his palm as you seat your hips back and forth on his fingers. Your mouth is hanging open, intense pleasure emanating from his fingertips rubbing that gummy spot located just deep enough for your fingers to be too short to reach. You can feel your orgasm building with each roll of the hips, a slow and steady escalation toward certain ecstasy.

Shouto moans along with you, watching the look of bliss on your face each time you sit back onto his fingers, and committing it to memory. You look absolutely captivating getting off on his hand, but the urge to feel you wrapped around his cock is too strong to ignore. He pulls his hand out of your cunt, watching as the syrupy slick trails after his fingers before severing, the warm, slimy wetness returning to your spread pussy. The sight is too enticing to just look at— he grabs his cock and jerks himself a few times, watching your slick spread across his length. It feels unlike any other lubricant he’s used— spit, lotion, shampoo all nothing in comparison to the sweet nectar your body produces just for him— simply divine.

If he thinks that’s divine, pressing his cock into you is as if the gates of heaven have been exploded open with dynamite, drowning him in a pool of ethereal ambrosia that he never wants to escape. Your walls stretch around his girth and hug him like never before; it’s wetter, tighter, and hotter than anything he’s ever imagined, and if he hadn’t already cum from your mouth just minutes before, he’s sure he would’ve cum right here and now.

You’re just about there, only a third of his cock managing to push into you before your walls start to clamp, that tension in your abdomen intensifying at an alarming rate. You throw your head back and moan unabashedly as his cock glides into you entirely in one movement, your cunt wringing snug around him as you cum. You’d be ashamed if it were with anyone else, but Shouto’s so thick and long that you just let yourself ride out your orgasm, your cunt pulsing and squeezing him tight. It feels like a religious experience cumming on his cock— he’s by far the biggest you’ve ever taken, and it’s been so long since you’ve had sex in the first place that you’re too turned on to care. A fresh wave of slick begins to leak from deep inside you, the aftermath of your abrupt orgasm coming in handy as you finally come-to enough to move your hips.

Shouto’s holding onto you for dear life at this point, knuckles white as his fingers dig bruises into your hips. He’s never been squeezed so tight before— never felt anything like your pussy, like you cumming on his cock. And even though he’s overwhelmed with the mesmerizing feeling, he still manages to keep his cool somehow, now evening his breath as he begins to thrust up into you. He decides he loves your moans— every noise you make from being impaled by his huge cock is music to his ears, a symphony he never wants to end.

“A-Ahaa ha, Shoutooo~” you cry, fireworks bursting across your nerves. “You’re so big, ah— it— it feels so gooood.”

You can’t seem to close your mouth— it’s too hard to focus on anything besides what might as well be his third leg thrusting into you over and over. His movements are relentless; never allowing you to come down from the high you’d been catapulted into with just one stroke of his cock. He’s so big inside of you, he’s probably the largest you can take while still feeling pleasure instead of pain. You feel like you’re the one losing your virginity here, not him— because, God have you never felt so filled to the brim in your life— his cock stretches and penetrates you so deliciously that you feel like any orgasm you’ve had before this doesn’t really count. It can’t count, can’t compare to this, to him.

Shouto is on the same page as you, desperately drilling into your sloppy cunt as if his life depends on it. It feels so good to be squeezed by your tight little hole, to have your fingernails dig crescent-moons into the skin on his shoulder blades, and hear your desperate cries for him. “Fuck, you— you feel so good, baby,” he pants, letting your pussy fall onto his lap and swallow his cock inside of you. “You’re so fucking sexy, y-yeah… so wet for me, so good for me.”

His praise causes a wave of goosebumps to rise across your skin, a burst of energy surging through you as you start to move your hips in sync with his thrusts. Shouto’s pace weakens as he lets you take control, sitting back and absorbing the pleasure that flows through his entire body at the quick snap of your hips. He feels like he’s in a trance as your hands move to grip the tops of his shoulders, leveraging yourself so your hips swing in a perfect arc that allows his cock to glide in and out of you completely. He watches as your hips swing back, the head of his cock slipping out of you halfway, only to be slurped back inside your tight heat all the way to the base.

Sweat is starting to accumulate and drip down your bodies, but neither of you are paying attention to that— Shouto reaches out and gropes your chest, fingers trapping your nipple and rolling it gently. You mewl at the sensation, your hips working even faster now, the dull ache of another climax forming in the pit of your stomach. You furiously hump his lap, your thrusts becoming off-beat and sloppy as your muscles scream with exertion. Frustration blooms in your heart— your stamina must have reduced in the past few months of abstinence.

“Sho, I’m… gonna cum again, fuck I’m so close,” you whine, pushing your ass onto his lap and stirring your guts with his cock as you swivel your hips.

Shouto hums at your confession, an arm winding around your hips and his hand landing on the plush underside of your thigh. His fingers dig into your flesh as he supports your body with his arm, his hips rutting up into yours with force. Each thrust has stars dancing along the borders of your vision, the power behind his hips much stronger than your desperate humping from before.

“I wanna feel you cum on my cock again, Y/N,” Shouto moans, tongue poking out to flick against your nipple, your tits in his face due to the change of position. “Want you to squeeze me and milk everything out of me, y-yeah…”

You nearly scream when his thumb finds your clit, rubbing the bundle of nerves with vigor as those two-toned eyes bore into yours. The surprise quickly morphs into bliss, your cunt wringing around his length as you feel yourself hurtle toward your orgasm for the second time. It’s not long before you’re there, ecstasy rushing through your entirety as you clutch onto him tightly, your toes curling and body shaking from the rush.

“Fuck,” he swears, both hands moving to grab your hips and pound his cock into your quivering cunt, delivering another level of pleasure to your orgasm. His bottom lip is trapped between his teeth, eyes darting between your face and your wet pussy that keeps swallowing him whole. “Ahaah— c-cumming—”

Shouto lets out a loud groan as he pulls out of you, hot, white ribbons of cum spurting across your stomach as he climaxes. Your hand reaches down to jerk him off and he continues to paint your skin with his seed, his body shaking as his orgasm ripples through him. His throbbing length is slick with your love juices, making it easy for your fingers to slide around him.

His head hits the back of the couch as he releases the last of his load, chest heaving while he tries to collect himself. The devastating pleasure of your climax leaves your body feeling weightless and your brain loopy, and all you can do is lean against his athletic physique and catch your breath.

“I love you,” Shouto whispers seriously in your ear, fingers deftly playing with the ends of your hair. He means it; he feels like his heart is so full of happiness, and he’s so comfortable basking in the afterglow of his orgasm with your naked skin on his.

You stifle the laugh that bubbles up in your throat, a small smile playing on your lips. “So sweet~” you tease, cuddling your face into his neck as his hands rub the length of your back. “I love you too, Shouto.”

Shouto hums in content, arms hugging you tight against him for a brief moment before he relaxes again. “I’m so lucky to have you,” he confesses softly, nudging the side of your face with his nose. He can feel your lips turn into a grin against his chest, and he smiles at your content.

“You’re being so sappy right now,” you point out, unable to stop smiling as you turn to look at him. “I really like this side of you, I’m happy to see you like this.”

“I’m happy, too,” he murmurs, his lips pressing against yours in a sweet and short kiss. “I kind of wish we did this sooner though…”

You laugh at that, and his soft smile turns into a grin that he doesn’t bother to conceal. “Mmm, I think it was worth the wait,” you disagree, snuggling closer to him and rubbing your skin against his affectionately.

Shouto looks down at you resting against his chest, examining your blissful smile and eyes closed in content. Yes, he thinks.

You were worth the wait.

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

wow that ended so soft pls excuse me im on my period and so emotional at the moment lmfaoooo... okokokok but post coitus snuggly sho is KILLING M E ... anywAYY lol let me know if you enjoyed!! this was kinda different from the usual smut i write so! i’d love any feedback i could get :)

as always, thanks for reading! 💗

➥ masterlist

#todoroki shouto smut #todoroki shoto smut #todoroki smut #bnha smut #mha smut #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #todoroki x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #my fics

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