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haetrack · 12 days

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your fate, my karma

jung jaehyun x fem!reader

wc: 11.7k

synopsis: jaehyun realizes he’s in love with you. it’s fucked, especially because he rejected you once before. he doesn’t want to ruin what he has with you. but he can’t help it, it’s like he was made to see and touch you. he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold in his secret.

warnings: angst, little fluff, friends with benefits, pining, one sided love, confession, argument, smut (MDNI), desperate jaehyun, unprotected sex (pulling out), possessiveness and jealousy, dialogue heavy at some parts

heavily inspired by somethin’ stupid - frank sinatra

part three to the how it all goes series!

you're laid back onto his bed, heavy breaths fanned across your face. on top of you is jaehyun, cheeks dusted with pink as his fingers are still move inside of you. “stop already,” you huff out a laugh, “i might die if you make me cum one more time.”

he chuckles at your words and slowly pulls his fingers out of you, sucking obscenely on them just to annoy you. it works, and you cover your eyes to get the image out of your head. you don’t offer to help him out, and he doesn’t ask for any favors.

he’s not really sure how his friendship with you got to this point. if he could put it simply, you told him that you had feelings for him, asking if he felt the same way. he said that he wasn’t ready for a relationship, that he wasn’t ready to be so vulnerable in front of another person. he still wanted to be friends with you.

he remembers seeing sadness flash through your eyes, but you just smiled at him and accepted the answer that you got. in a way, jaehyun wished he could like you back, he hated the way he hurt you, but he just wasn’t ready. you were wary around him, trying to hide the hurt that he caused you. he couldn’t bear to see it, and hated how much you were hiding from him.

which is how he finds you next to him, curled up in his bed after he’s made you cum. he knows it probably wasn’t the best idea to propose, but he didn’t know how else he could keep you close. when he explains it to himself in his head, it sounds shitty, makes him feel a little fucked up. he tries to justify it, but really, all of this is a temporary fix to keep you close to him.

despite all the grey areas in his friendship with you, he’s certain about one thing: he really does like having you around. he’s chalked it up to his feelings just being from how long he’s known you, but he knows that there’s something else he doesn’t want to admit. because one, it’s fucked. two, he’s rejected you. three, he can’t like you.

he can’t like like you. he doesn’t even want to imagine thinking about the other word, but it plays at the back of his head sometimes. he hears it when you’re both out at a bar together, watching you drunkenly cling to his side. he hears it when you’re at his apartment after work. he hears it when your eyes look up at his when you drop to your knees.

he can hear it even now as you lay next to him, curled up into his side as your breaths even out. it doesn’t feel weird that he can feel your naked body against his, his best friend comfortably laid up next to him. is it so wrong of him to want this? you became more comfortable around him again after he had sex with you. he knows it’s just a temporary solution.

he can feel your breaths across his chest, your face nuzzling closer to him. he could move you away, could create a clearer boundary between the two of you. he feels a little selfish when he lets you stay there, deciding to wrap an arm around your shoulders as he pushes you closer. it’s not fair to either of you, he’s not your boyfriend, he shouldn’t be this close to you.

it’s quiet in his room, save for the sound of cars driving down the road and the occasional huff you let out in your sleep. he isn’t tired at all, too lost in his thoughts as he stares up at the ceiling, the warmth of your body taking up all his thoughts. if he could, he would go back in time and stop you from confessing. he would’ve done it himself in the future, he just needed a little more time.

he can’t blame you though. it’s his fault for rejecting you, it’s his fault for thinking that he could make something happen out of this. there’s a small part of his heart that believes that you could like him again. you wouldn’t come back to him for sex every night, right? but the more realistic part of him knows that it could mean anything.

which is why he can’t stop you coming to him when you’re needy. it’s not even just those times, but he doesn’t think he could ever willingly cut you off. he likes spending time with you, and above everything else, you’re his friend.

he just can’t help but wish it could be a little more than that.

you always ask jaehyun to come over if he has the time.

as you both have grown older, it feels like you both have lost more and more time. when you were both college students, it was easy to skip a few classes and go to parties each night. but now as adults, it’s hard to find time for each other. which is why you ask him to go do mundane tasks with you, like buying groceries or trying on clothes.

today it’s going over to eat with him.

before he rejected you, it felt special to be invited to do these kinds of things with him. out of all the people he could’ve asked, he chose you. it didn’t take long for you to realize that, no, jaehyun asking you to spend time with him meant nothing but him being friendly. it’s weird looking back at how much you wanted jaehyun to like you more than a friend.

as you make your way to his apartment, you realize how much time you spent just wishing for something to happen between you two. you wonder if it was something that was ever supposed to happen between you, or maybe if the timing just wasn’t right. you used to find yourself thinking about the what ifs after he had freshly rejected you. but now, you try to focus on what you have.

he’s just your friend, and you’re close to accepting that it’ll probably never be more than that.

when you make it to his apartment, you don’t see him right away. you call out his name, hearing his voice from his kitchen. when you head over, you’re expecting a nice meal laid out for the two of you to eat. instead, you’re greeted by jaehyun standing by the stove, a stupid smile on his face as he greets you.

“so, you invite me over to come and eat.”

he nods, smile growing wider, “yes.”

“but i’m not seeing any food.”

“that’s because you’re gonna help me.”

you stare at him. he starts moving towards you, one of his arms wrapping around your shoulder, pulling you into his side. he starts dragging you towards where he was standing. you start whining, “you don’t need my help. you’re a whole grown man who can cook whatever he wants.”

he laughs, “but i need you to be my other chef… what are they called?”

you roll your eyes, “a sous chef?”

“exactly,” he points at you, as if you just solidified his argument, “what if i forget something and i need your help?”

you pat his shoulder, “then you call me while i sit over on the couch.”

he’s about to give up, but he swears there’s a certain look in your eyes that ask him to keep going. that’s how it always feels with you, a certain push-and-pull that you both can’t let go of. your fingers twitch against his shoulder, almost giving you away. he moves to hold your hand, “how about you at least watch me on the side. i just wanna talk to you.”

you almost want to point out his pouty tone, want to laugh at how there’s a frown on his face. but you can’t. he looks a little too sincere, and you don’t want to think too hard about the feelings he doesn’t have for you. you sigh, eventually giving into his words. it’s always like this, jaehyun acting like he can’t go on without you. that’s what got you here in the first place.

he smiles when you approach him, so close that his arm is touching yours. it doesn’t matter how long or how many times he’s had sex with you, to have you close to him like this makes his heart soar.

it’s like this for the whole time you both cook. your hands lightly grazing his, the sweet smile you show him when he does good, the laugh you let out when he messes up. you take over some parts for him without him asking you to. he can’t help let his mind wander, thinking this is how it would be all the time if you two were dating.

he wouldn’t have to beg you to do something with him, you would do it on your own accord. he wouldn’t have to hold back how much he wants to kiss you, he could press as many kisses on your cheeks or lips. he could stand behind you, wrapping his arms around you as you forcibly kick him off of cooking duty.

instead, he’s standing in front of the food he’s making, probably overcooking it as you point and laugh at him. you even take out your phone to take a picture of him, laughing as you fiddle with your phone. he swats at you, grumbling, “if you posted that on instagram, i am definitely blocking you.”

“you know me so well. i tagged you and everything.”

he chooses not to respond, taking out plates from his cabinet for the both of you. he can see you standing next to him, waiting to plate your food. he quickly decides to plate it for you, trying to hide his pink cheeks as he pushes the plate towards you. when he’s plating his own, you speak up, “wow, what a gentleman!” he can hear the teasing tone you use, “you’re really setting the bar for all men, aren’t you, jaehyun?”

he decides to tease you back, “just trying to show you how much nicer i am than you are. you should post this on instagram, too.”

“nope, letting all my followers know how mean and horrible of a cook you are. i’m ruining your chances of getting with someone.”

he shakes his head in amusement, moving to one of the seats on his small dining table. you follow, sitting right across from him. he messes with his phone a bit before you can hear that it’s connected to his speakers. an unfamiliar tune starts playing as you watch jaehyun’s head bob along to the song.

this is how it always is, eating together, listening to his annoyingly good music taste, and enjoying each other’s presence. the food he cooked is surprisingly good, but you try to denounce it because you did help him along the way. it’s quiet between the two of you, nothing really too important to talk about.

jaehyun notices your fingers tapping along the table to the beat of the song. he smiles, “do you like it? the song?”

you pretend to think about it, “hm... well, it’s good.”

“you’re not gonna secretly shazam it under the table like last time?”

“that was literally a one time thing,” you huff, “i’ll just go and find someone with the exact same music taste as you.”

he smiles to himself, “you know there’s no one else like me.”

you think about his words for a bit. he probably didn’t mean for them to have a double meaning, but you can’t help but find one. you wonder if you’ll ever be able to find someone who could’ve made you as happy as jaehyun does. you wonder if you do find someone, you’ll be able to forget jaehyun.

you feel like you’ve become so intertwined in his life that everything might lead back to him.

you eventually nod along to his words, “yeah, there’s no one else like you.”

“you’re kinda an ass for not picking her up yourself.”

jaehyun huffs at johnny’s words. it’s not that he didn’t want to, but you had assured him that you would make it on time. when he brought up your safety, you said that it was taken care of already. jaehyun couldn’t help but wonder who or what could possibly be more safe than him, but he didn’t want to argue.

but now that you’re a little late, he can’t stop himself from worrying. johnny makes it worse, tearing into him, teasing him with every word. jaehyun hasn’t told him about his surfacing feelings for you, but johnny is notoriously nosy, probably knowing the exact day jaehyun thought that he started liking you.

johnny takes one more jab at him, “she would’ve liked you more if you’d been the one who brought her.”

jaehyun’s shoulder bumps into johnny’s, “she already does like me a lot, so there’s no need for all of that.”

johnny shrugs, letting out an if you say so as he sips on his drink. as much as jaehyun wants to deny it, he really wishes he could’ve at least given you a ride. he would’ve immediately ditched johnny if you asked, would’ve been right outside your doorstep as soon as you said you were ready. he wants to tell himself that that’s just what friends do, but there’s something he doesn’t want to admit.

his hands move to pull out his phone, scrolling through your messages from the past hours. he knows he’s made a mistake as soon as he feels johnny’s eyes looking at his screen from over his shoulder. jaehyun makes a jokingly shocked face at johnny to try to distract him, but johnny’s face mirrors his own.

johnny’s about to say something with a teasing smile on his face and jaehyun’s ready to stop him. instead, a ding comes from his phone, calling their attention. it’s a text from you, letting jaehyun know that you’re outside. he sends a text to you, his eyes moving to the entrance as he waits for you to walk in.

and there you are.

your eyes scan the room, looking for both him and johnny. jaehyun can feel his cheeks heat up at the sight of you, your face illuminated by the warm lights of the bar. he thinks you look pretty all the time, but now that he’s seeing you like this, he wants to keep it in his memory forever.

you quickly spot them, your face brightening up with a smile as you make your way towards them. you greet the two of them, johnny easily bringing you into a hug. when you turn to jaehyun, you expect the same, but his eyes stay on you for a moment too long. he notices your teasing smile, quickly clearing his throat before wrapping his arms around you.

johnny starts, “always so fashionably late.”

you laugh, “if i don’t come, who else is gonna be the funniest and sexiest person in our friend group?”

johnny moves to tuck an invisible strand of hair behind his ear, “i was holding that position just fine before you came.”

you slap his shoulder, a fit of laughter taking over you. jaehyun watches the two of you, quietly laughing at the side. he likes the dynamic the three of you have, always mentally thanking johnny for introducing you to him. he’d endure all of johnny’s teasing for years if it meant to have you laughing at his side.

it stays like this for a while. the three of you drinking together, laughing when johnny tries dragging you closer to the middle of the room to dance. jaehyun can feel his cheeks get hotter, pink from the alcohol and the not-so-visible adoration he holds for you. he tries to quiet his feelings, but when you lean into his side, your warm body pressing against his, he figures he can give up the act a little.

it’s at times like these where jaehyun realizes that he can see the you from before the rejection. it’s a bit selfish for him crave this side of you, the one where you don’t care how much you touch him or how you continue talking into his ear all night. he thinks that if you were both dating, he could lean over and press a kiss to your cheek, watching as you nuzzle into his side.

for now, all he can do is wrap his arm around yours as you both sway side to side. johnny went off to get another drink, promising to be back quickly. jaehyun has this little time to have you all to himself, listening to the loud chattering around him and the bass of the music loud in his ears. your eyes are closed, humming along to the song.

jaehyun could easily whisper into your ear about his feelings. you probably wouldn’t remember either way, but he knows it’s not right. it’s not like he’d want to do it this way, wanting to tell you honestly. but there’s a growing part inside his brain that’s begging him to do something about it. he has you so close now, so why can’t just say that he likes you?

the thoughts dissipate when johnny comes back, smile on his face with three more drinks in hand. johnny quickly notices how your arm is intertwined with jaehyun’s, and jaehyun can physically see the moment johnny comes up with a plan. jaehyun doesn’t bother moving from his spot, though, willing to sacrifice his humility just to have you by his side.

as if jaehyun wasn’t having thoughts of kissing or dating you, the conversation turns back to normal. the three of you chatting, exchanging work gossip and taking drinks from your cups. it’s like every night this happens, it’s a regular routine of talking and him having to fight back his more than friendly thoughts of his friend.

except this time, while johnny’s explaining how he thinks his boss might be having an affair, you cut him off. johnny jokingly scoffs, turning to where you’re looking at. you both squeal, johnny’s hands finding your shoulders, shaking them back and forth. you gasp, “that’s him, right?”

johnny matches your tone, “totally him! i could recognize him from anywhere!”

raising an eyebrow in your direction, jaehyun asks, “and who exactly are we talking about?”

you turn back at him, “that’s jungwoo, someone we knew from college!”

the name sounds familiar to jaehyun. there’s probably been a few times you talked about him during one semester. he’s not sure which one it could be, but there’s a memory of a faint smile on your face while talking about him. it sets a weird feeling in jaehyun’s stomach, and he realizes you look a little too excited at the sight of jungwoo.

jaehyun’s arm is still looped around yours, a small frown on his face, “does everyone and their moms know jungwoo now?”

“he was funny in class and he bought me coffee once,” johnny hums.

you join in, “he is definitely funny and he did good when we worked on a project together.”

jaehyun pointedly glares at johnny when he speaks, but when you speak, he just holds you closer to him. he can see how johnny watches him, being reminded of how he looked like he was planning something earlier. jaehyun sees it now, johnny’s face darkening before he speaks, turning to speak to you, “i think you should go talk to him.”

jaehyun sends a pointed glare at him before looking at you, his eyes widening when he sees the shy smile on your face. you ask, “what if he doesn’t even recognize me?”

“why wouldn’t he? he always looked at you a certain way when you guys talked, he definitely remembers you.”

jaehyun wonders why no one told him more about this “jungwoo” and his apparent more-than-friendly feelings for you? if johnny knows, then does that mean the three of you hung out before without him? how much has jaehyun missed between you and jungwoo? jaehyun silently takes another sip of his drink, his eyes peering over his cup as he watches you get lost in your thoughts.

he thinks you might drop the conversation, but you breath out, “i’ll do it. i’ll go talk to him.”

jaehyun tries his best not to acknowledge the growing jealousy he can feel bubbling up in his throat. he has to bite back a remark that would probably make things worse for himself. he decides to let go of your arm, watching as you easily separate from him. johnny starts hyping you up, giving you encouraging words as jaehyun massages your shoulders.

although jaehyun wishes he could say don’t go over there or i’ll die, he decides to send you a thumbs up before you walk away. his throat burns, and as much as he wants to think it’s from the alcohol, it’s from seeing you walk away from him. you’re walking to someone that isn’t him, sharing your warmth that’s supposed to be jaehyun’s.

he realizes then and there that he shouldn’t be thinking that.

you’re pressed against jaehyun’s bed, his face burying into your neck as he leaves kisses across your skin. you had to tell him to not leave any marks when you feel his teeth nip at your skin, and you could’ve sworn you heard a huff come out of him when you did. he’s practically pinning you down, body barely hovering over yours.

there are days where he gets like this, too desperate to where he doesn’t realize he grips you a little tighter, his voice growing deeper, relieving all of his stress by making you both feel good. you can tell when he gets like this, a quick text of an you up? letting you know what he wants. you’ve grown to learn all his habits.

it does feel a little different today, though. he was quick to greet you, quick to bring you to bed to kiss you. there were no words of how work was hard for him or if he was stressed about something that happened. not that there’s anything wrong with him not saying, but there’s a certain desperation in his movements as his lips trail down your body.

you decide not to ask about it, not wanting to pressure him into talking about something he doesn’t want to talk about. you’re quick to forget about it when he presses a kiss onto your clothed clit. he calls your name, bringing your attention to the heavy gaze he gives you. he murmurs out, “gonna let me see this pretty pussy?”

you nod quickly, lifting your hips up so he can take off your panties. he moves to lay between your thighs, humming when he sees how you’re dripping for him. it’s embarrassing, trying to close your legs. you’re met with his hands keeping them apart, chuckling at the whine you let out.

“didn’t know you could be this wet for me. if i didn’t know any better, i’d think that you need me.”

you let out a small whimper when he traces a finger down your slit, “jaehyun, please, need you to- need you to do something!”

“tell me what you need, pretty. if you don’t tell me, how am i supposed to help?”

“need you, jaehyun! want your fingers, want you to touch me!”

“of course, that’s all i needed to hear.”

you can feel one of his fingers slide into you, your head falling back onto his pillow at the feeling. you clench around his digit, already begging for more, needing him to fill you up. he doesn’t tease you for being so desperate, quickly giving into your pleas as another finger slips inside you. you let out a cry when you feel his thumb circle around your clit.

“such a messy baby, dripping all over my fingers. needed me so bad, right?”

moans of his name tumble out of your lips when he curls his fingers inside you, hitting that spot that sends shocks down your spine. your hands are gripping onto the sheets, realizing just how fast you're about to cum. you’re sure he can feel you clench around his digits, especially when you manage to open your eyes and see him looking straight at you.

“gonna cum all over my fingers?”

“fuck, yes! please, wanna cum, need you to let me cum!”

his movements speed up at your words, “go ahead and show me how much you need it.”

you’re quick to fall apart, your orgasm crashing into you. your thighs shut around his hand that’s helping you ride out your orgasm. all you can hear are the sounds you make and the encouragement that jaehyun mumbles out to you. you’re too fucked out to realize that his clean hand intertwines with yours, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand.

before you can comment on it, he’s quick to pull away from you, hands moving to undo his pants. you move to try to do it for him, but he swats your hands away with a laugh. after letting you gawk at him for a bit, he takes his boxers off, a whine leaving you at the sight of his leaking cock. he tilts his head at you, “are you gonna let me fill your pretty pussy up?”

“please,” you moan. your legs move to wrap around his waist, bringing his hips flush to yours. his cock ruts against your cunt, still sensitive from your last orgasm. he shushes you when you let out a small gasp, one of his hands soothing the skin of your thigh. you let out a small cry when his tips rubs against your clit, the last of your patience running out.

you can tell it’s getting to him, too. his cheeks and ears are flushed, his eyebrows furrowed as he switches between watching your face and where he’s pressed against you. he bites back a groan when his tip catches at your entrance, trying hard not to push into you right then and there. he puts all his focus on you, “tell me that you want me to fill you up. tell me that you need me to fuck you.”

you whine, your head digging into the pillow. despite his flushed face, there’s a cocky look on his face as he stares down at you. you’re too desperate to try to fight back, losing the battle as you let out a whimper of his name. there’s almost a surprised look in his eyes as he sees you give up this easily, leaning down to give you a quick kiss to your collarbone.

“i know, baby, need you just as bad. gonna fuck you like you need it, okay?”

you whisper out a thank you as he moves to line himself up at your entrance. he slowly slides in, letting out a deep groan as he watches himself sink into you. he fights off his eyes from closing at the feeling of your tight cunt clenching around his length. you’re no better, writhing around in the sheets, whimpers of his name escaping you.

once he bottoms out, he lets out a grunt, “missed this pussy so much. so fucking warm, so tight, all for me.” you’re quick to agree, hands trying to reach at his shoulders to bring him closer to you. he gives in easily, huffing at how he can feel himself deeper inside you at the new position. he kisses the valley of your breasts, sucking lightly.

he starts off slow, teasing you as he thrusts into you, slow and deep. if you can listen past your own moans and whimpers, you can hear the quiet curses and sounds he lets out, trying to hide how much you’re affecting him. when your nails claw at his back, he breaks, “didn’t even mean to call you this late, i just needed you so bad.”

his words get to you, the fact that he wanted to call you because he was needy makes you clench around him. he can’t help but pick up the pace of his thrusts at the feeling, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. you don’t know what has him so worked up, but if he’s going to make you feel this good, you might have to figure it out.

you need just a little more, your hand trailing down your body to get to your clit. you moan in relief when your fingers circle your clit, clenching tightly around jaehyun’s length. it has his hips stuttering slightly, eyes making their way to your hand. he’s quick to push your hand away to replace it with his own, thumb making tight circles around the nub.

he move up to whisper into your ear, “only i can make you feel this good, right? i know you better than anyone else, even yourself.”

you shake your head at his words, but your hips roll up into his, trying to fit more of him inside you. he chuckles lowly at the sight, a small smile on his face as he watches you. he’s slamming into you now, any patience he had now gone as he nears the edge. he starts, “no? trust me, pretty. i know just how you like to be touched, how you liked to be fucked. i know you so well that i just know that you’re close to cumming.”

tears prick your eyes, because yes, you are close to cumming. you can’t help it, not when he’s fucking you like this. he’s not usually this talkative, choosing rather to focus on getting away from any stresses. but now, he’s letting you in on his thoughts, letting you know what could possibly be nagging at him. you’ll save it for another time.

you’re surrounded by all of him, chest touching his as his warm breath hits your neck. you used to wish for him to kiss you during moments like these, moments where you’re both so close, adrenaline too high. now, all you can do is whine out his name, begging for him to let you cum.

it’s easy for you to let go of any past emotions you had for him, but for jaehyun, he wishes he could kiss you. he wishes that you could want him again, wishes that he didn’t have to fuck you like this. this is what he wanted, though. he just didn’t think it would be this hard. he tries to ignore it by groaning into your ear, “gonna cum for me? gonna cum all over my cock?”

“y-yes, please! you make me feel so good!”

“yeah? show me then, pretty girl. show me how i’m the only one who can make you feel this good.”

at the sound of his voice, you cum. your chest arches up into his, nails digging into his back as you let go. he’s moaning at the feeling, his hips stuttering as he tries to fuck into your tight pussy. he has to bite down onto your shoulder at the feeling, holding back just how bad he wants to cum inside you.

when you start whining, he’s quick to pull out of your heat, quickly jerking himself off to the sight of how fucked out you look. with a moan of your name, his cum shoots out over your stomach, his cheeks a pretty pink as he does.

it’s quiet in his room, save for the deep breaths you both let out. he’s just staring down at you, saving the image of you covered in his cum in his mind. you don’t mind, too tired to notice the slight adoration in his eyes as he stares. it is embarrassing though, covering your face with your arm as you tell him to move.

he blinks away his thoughts, chuckling at your embarrassment. he pats your thigh, moving away as he goes to get a towel to clean you up. he’s being careful with you, his movements slow as the towel moves around your body. there’s a soft look in his eyes, a lazy smile on his face as he indirectly touches you. he’s quick to throw the towel into his laundry basket, even quicker to join you in bed.

in a motion that almost seems too soft for the fact that he just fucked you into his sheets, he pulls your back into his chest. one of his hands makes it to your side, letting it sit there. his breaths are evening out, fanning across your shoulder that he nuzzles into. his touches are hesitant against your skin, almost as if he was debating on whether or not he could touch you like this.

you almost want to push his hand away or try to make some space between the two of you. friends should not be holding each other like this, friends should not be letting each other bask in the warmth of their bodies. friends shouldn’t even be having sex, not like this.

but you figure just this once, you’ll let yourself have this moment. it’s a bit selfish, getting to have jaehyun like this. you wished he’d hold you like this every single time. you think if he did, you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from falling back in love with him. there’s no way for you to win when it comes to jaehyun.

as he presses a kiss and murmurs a goodnight into your shoulder, you make a promise to yourself: you won’t ever lose yourself over jaehyun again.

jaehyun realizes how little time he’s been spending with you recently.

he’s been hearing more about this jungwoo guy. you’ve told him can’t hang out, i’m with jungwoo right now or i’ll be hanging out with jungwoo later. you’ve been so busy catching up with jungwoo that jaehyun hasn’t had the time to talk to you. no more eating or shopping together, not when jungwoo’s around.

jaehyun doesn’t want to say he’s necessarily jealous of the relationship you two share, but can’t say it doesn’t sit right with him. jaehyun is still your friend after all, and he doesn’t like hearing you talk so much about him. during the small chances jaehyun gets to talk to you, you always slip in one mention about jungwoo.

what about jaehyun? what does jungwoo have that he doesn’t? he could totally treat and touch you better than jungwoo ever could. he practically does already. he can’t help but let these little thoughts enter his mind. if jungwoo’s in the way, how is jaehyun supposed to show you how much he likes you?

it’s one day that you’re both splayed across his couch, your legs resting over his as his thumb smoothes across the skin of your thigh when jungwoo is brought up again. out of the corner of his eye, he can see you smile and lightly laugh at your phone. jaehyun, being the nosy person that he is, can’t help but try to reach over to see what you’re laughing at.

you’re quick to push him away, chuckling at the sight of the small pout on his face. he tries again, and you decide it’s probably better just to sit beside him instead. you begrudgingly show him your phone, and he squints his eyes so he can read your screen better.

it’s quiet for a few moments before he hums at the texts between you and jungwoo. it’s a conversation funny enough to make you laugh. he tries not to roll his eyes at the cutesy way jungwoo texts, him being clearly interested in you. he doesn’t want to say anything about it though, doesn’t want you to know that jungwoo bothers him for reasons that he shouldn’t be thinking.

“he’s funny,” jaehyun muses, trying to stop the snarky remark he wants to say.

“way funnier than you,” you tease, watching him deflate back to his side of the couch.

“there’s been times where you’ve laughed at my jokes though, like laughed laughed.”

“i was either super drunk or bored out of my mind, so those don’t count.”

jaehyun rolls his eyes at you, deciding to ignore your words, choosing to believe that you think he’s the funniest man ever. he’s been finding himself having little competitions with jungwoo that only he’s a part of. jungwoo is funny? jaehyun is funnier. jungwoo is cute? jaehyun is cute, too, just give him a minute.

jaehyun tries to boil it down to the fact he’s always been competitive, but he knows it’s more than that. in his head, it doesn’t matter what jungwoo does better than jaehyun because right now, you're in his apartment, on his couch, deciding to spend meaningless time with him.

“what have you both been doing? i haven’t seen you at all this week.” he hates how his voice sounds, a little too clingy for his liking, but he hopes you don’t hear it.

“nothing, really. we’ve just been going out to eat or hanging out when we have the time.”

jaehyun figures you both somehow have all the time in the world in order to be hanging out this much. he makes his voice whiny before speaking, “i miss you, please don’t leave me forever.”

you laugh at the sound of his voice, pulling your legs away from him. “you’re acting like me spending time with jungwoo is gonna kill you.”

“what’s killing me is the fact i don’t get to see you that much anymore,” he grumbles.

he notices that you don’t respond right away, and when he goes to look at you, your eyebrows are furrowed and there’s a certain look in your eyes. did he say too much? before he can start panicking, you turn towards him, “don’t do that.”

“do what?”

“pretend like you miss me when we already spend a lot of time together. you literally called me up the other night.”

jaehyun lets out a breath, “sorry, but you’re still my friend. i do miss you, i’m jealous that jungwoo gets to see you that much.” although he says it jokingly, there’s definitely truth behind his words. it might not mean much to you, but the fact that jungwoo gets to see you in a way that only jaehyun feels like he deserves, it hurts him.

“i’m gonna tell jungwoo you’re being mean to him,” you huff.

“tell him then,” jaehyun slings an arm around your waist, “let him know that he needs to learn how to share.”

“first of all,” you slide his arm off of you, “don’t say it like that because you make it sound like i’m an object. two, i think you might need to learn how to share.”

he hums, “you were mine first.”

“i was never yours,” you grouch, “you made that clear when you rejected me.”

he can tell you’re joking, but he can feel his blood run cold at your words. it’s a reminder to him that the rejection is still clear in your mind, reminding him just how much he hurt you. it will always be a reminder of how he messed up what could've been a good relationship with you if he just had more time.

he can’t blame you for his own mistake. he can’t.

in the best way he can, he puts his hands together and grovels, “please, can you find it in your kind soul to forgive me?”

you scoff, rightfully so, before grabbing your phone to take a picture of him. you’re quiet for a few moments more, jaehyun knowing that you’re about to post the picture on your instagram story for everyone to see, including jungwoo. he doesn’t want to stop you, equal parts of wanting to show off how you’re hanging out with him and a little bit of embarrassment.

you set your phone down, placing your hands on top of his, “you can stop. now i kinda just feel bad for you. you do deserve it, though.”

jaehyun doesn’t move, staring at you with a certain look in his eyes. he can tell you right here, he thinks. he’s thought about what he’d say if he were to confess to you almost too much. he’s practiced his lines before, thinking up the perfect way he’d confess. it almost feels right to do it now, clearing his throat and-

your phone buzzes, pulling your attention away from him. he grimaces when you show him the notification. what seems to be jungwoo’s account liking your story, the story that has jaehyun begging for your apology posted on it. you sigh dreamily, “told you he’s funny.”

“not funny when it’s jungwoo.”

“jaehyun!”

you find yourself drinking at jaehyun’s place again.

it’s a slow night, both of you had stressful days. you choose to stay in jaehyun’s kitchen, laughing at unfunny words and pouring more wine for each other as the night rolls on. you didn’t mean to stay over so late, but jaehyun practically begged you to spend some time with him. you were quick to say yes under the guise that all he wanted to do was be with his friend.

before the night went too deep, you texted jungwoo saying that you probably won’t be able to call him tonight. he responds quick, a have fun! and i hope you sleep well :) flashing on your screen. you smile warmly at the messages, but quickly notice jaehyun also staring at them. you push at his shoulders, whining over how he’s invading your privacy.

his cheeks are rosy from the wine, a sly smile on his face as he asks, “how am i not supposed to look when i see you smiling like that.”

“you’re supposed to be a good friend and support me in my times of need!”

he puts his hands up in defense, that annoying smile still looking back at you, “thank you for being so vulnerable around me. and who’s to say i don’t support you in your times of need?”

you hear the double meaning in his words, swatting him away, “hey! you’re actually so gross.”

he just chuckles at your words, enjoying how easily you get embarrassed at his teasing. it’s been happening more often, and jaehyun can’t help but piece together that it might be because of jungwoo. jaehyun feels that you might be slipping away right in front of him, and he can’t really do anything to stop it.

you aren’t completely unaware of jaehyun trying to get you to hang out with him. he’s been sending more texts recently, nothing really important being said. you’re not sure how obvious you’re being with jungwoo, but you’re sure that jaehyun has at least an inkling on how you feel about him. which leads you to believe that jaehyun might be a little jealous.

it was never your intention to make him jealous. that night when you first saw jungwoo again was all unplanned. you never thought you would end up talking to him, never thought you’d like the way he treated you. he was so sweet to you, always trying to take care of your every need when prompted.

it’s bad to compare, but you realize that jaehyun’s only being so nice to you now is because jungwoo’s being nice to you.

that’s not to say that jaehyun was never not nice to you, but you could tell that it’s a different kind of nice when it comes to him. the relationship you have with jaehyun now feels more like a bandaid to cover all of the bad things that have happened, no one bothering to address it. you don’t want to either way, no use in bringing up what shouldn’t be talked about.

even now, as you’re here with him in his kitchen, feeling the cold air from the open window drift in, there’s unspoken words between the two of you. you can hear the music playing from his speakers in the other room, the melody sticking in your head. it’s weird to think that you would’ve never gotten to see jaehyun like this if you didn’t stay with him.

it’s quiet for a few moments, apart from jaehyun humming along to the song that’s playing. it’s dark, his warm lights low as they cover the both of you. it’s nice like this, a little drunk and a little quiet; you don’t have to think about anything you don’t want to. you don’t think before you speak, “i do miss you, too, you know.”

“yeah?”

“you’re still someone i appreciate, even after everything.”

he doesn’t respond, and you think he’s taking in your words. you’re not sure why you didn’t specify ‘friend’ but you know he knows better than to have his hopes up anymore. you see that the tips of his ears are pink, the lazy smile on his face showing that he’s a bit tipsy too. he’s not looking at you, you’re not really sure what he’s thinking-

“i think… i think i love you.”

“what?”

his eyes immediately snap to yours, widening as he realizes what slipped out of his mouth. slightly panicking, he stands up, trying to backtrack, “no, i- look-”

“what did you say?”

“i’m sorry, i didn’t mean it-”

“what does that even mean? you can’t just randomly say you love me and then take it back?”

he chooses not to answer right away, eyes darting all around as he tries to come up with an answer. he can fix this, he can help himself, it’s just… he doesn’t really want to. it’s almost selfish with how he feels a little relief with his confession. “since you’re asking,” he starts, “i… i like you. i’ve liked you for a while now.”

when he looks at you, the anger from before is still there. you’re biting down on your lip, hands balled at your sides as his words hit you. “jaehyun… do you know how wrong that is? since when? after you rejected me?”

“no, i- fine. yes, after i rejected you. i know it’s wrong and i know i shouldn’t but it clicked for me, even if it was a little late.”

“a little late? jaehyun, you’re telling me this after you know i’m talking to someone. you knew that there’d be a high chance that i wouldn’t feel the same. i know you’re not that dumb.”

“but that’s how you felt when you asked me out? even if there was a chance that i would say no to you, you still did it, right? that’s exactly how i feel, how bad would it be if i tried?”

a shocked laugh leaves you, “that isn’t fair! you’re not being fair! you’re not thinking about how i would feel knowing this!”

you think he knows that it’s not the same between you and him. you confessed because you genuinely thought you had a chance with him. jaehyun’s only confessing because you’re talking to jungwoo.

“i should’ve never let this happen! fuck, i knew if i kept talking to you, something bad would happen.”

he scoffs, wanting to call out your bluff. “i never forced you to come over and talk. you weren’t forced to come over and have sex with me. you could’ve stopped this at any time, but you kept coming back to me.”

you let out an exasperated sound, “we were friends, jaehyun. friends hang out and talk, that’s literally all we were doing.”

he snaps, “friends don’t fuck. friends don’t hold each other after sex. you can’t say that you didn’t feel anything between us. that’s the whole reason i called you for sex the other day, i needed you."

you can hear how loud your heart is pounding in your chest. your head hurts already, the faint song playing in the other room only adding to the pain. there’s nothing more that you want to do than just go home. you wish you could’ve been more clear, you wished you would’ve drawn a clearer line between the two of you. now you’re stuck like this.

you sigh out, mumbling into the quiet air, “if i had known that you were gonna be like this, i would’ve made sure to end whatever we had as soon as possible.”

“if you never met jungwoo, then this probably never would’ve happened. i could’ve asked you out the normal way, but you kind of forced me into drunkenly confessing to you.”

you send a glare straight at him, “do not assume how i would feel in any situation. the fact that you didn’t even want to tell me that you liked me says everything i need to know.”

“how was i supposed to tell the girl i rejected that i like her now?”

“exactly! don’t you see how fucked up that is?”

he shrugs, closing himself off before you can start up again. you know how he gets, pretending that none of this really matters to him. it’s childish, and you know he knows it. you don’t know what else to do. if he can’t sort himself out, there’s no reason for you to be here anymore.

you’re quick to get up and out of the kitchen. he doesn’t look at you at first, but as soon as he hears you pack your stuff into your bag and your car keys in hands, he follows right after you. there’s a startled look on his face, you can tell that he didn’t think you would leave him. you watch as he raises a hand to stop you, but quickly puts it down after some thought.

you let out a breath, “i’m leaving. you can decide if you want to pull yourself together and grow up if you wanna talk. if not, don’t even bother texting me.”

he doesn’t try to argue, watching as you walk out his door. he can’t feel anything, doesn’t really want to do anything other than lay in bed. he walks over to his bedroom, the sound of a familiar slow song getting louder as he walks closer. he makes it inside, pausing the song before laying down onto his back. it’s quiet again.

he just ruined everything.

for the first time in a while, your life feels kinda normal.

there’s not a lot for you to worry about if you ignore a few things. work is fine, your friends are celebrating your freedom, and jungwoo comforts you in every way possible. you realize that jungwoo might’ve been everything you’ve been looking for in a person. he stays close when you need him and gives you space when you ask.

you tell jungwoo that you’re happy to have him right now. you tell him that you’re sorry for acting a little weird recently (he quickly denies your claim). you don’t tell him exactly what happened with jaehyun, but you can assume he at least knows a little. he doesn’t try to pry it out of you, choosing not to remind you of something you don’t want to think of.

and you’re not thinking about it. you haven’t gotten any texts from jaehyun, so why should you care?

as much as you don’t want to admit it, it does feel weird not having jaehyun in your life. you didn’t realize how much you thought about him or how much time was dedicated to being with him. it didn’t seem to matter at first because you thought it was because you both were friends, but you realize he was kind of stringing you along.

there’s a lot of time you have to yourself now. you don’t have to worry about jaehyun calling you randomly throughout the day or one of his spontaneous meetups. you don’t have to think about his you up? texts during the late hours of the night. you don’t have to think about any hurt he’s caused you in the past. none of it will mean anything anymore.

until you get a call from johnny.

“hey, johnny. what’s up?”

he skips right past your greeting, “why doesn’t jaehyun want to hang out with you?”

you’re shocked for multiple reasons. one, of course, johnny already knows your business. two, how dare jaehyun say he doesn’t want to hang out with you. you scoff, “what exactly did he say?”

“he said he was busy, but, like i know he’s not gonna be busy. and that obviously means that something is going on between you two.”

you want to scream into your phone’s microphone. jaehyun doesn’t deserve to set the boundary between you two. he was the one who messed it up in the first place, so why is he the one trying to put distance between you two? “johnny,” you start, “do you promise not to tell anyone about what i’m about to tell you? you can’t even tell jaehyun.”

he lets out a little shocked sound and you can imagine him sitting up straight. he whispers into the call, “what is it?”

“the other night, jaehyun told me he likes me. actually, in his own words, he said he thinks he loves me.”

he gasps loudly into the phone, “what? are you sure? like jaehyun said that? jaehyun?”

“exactly! it doesn’t even seem like something he’d do! he said it was because we were both drinking.”

“that doesn’t even matter,” johnny sighs, “you don’t go around saying that to your friend, especially not the friend you rejected before.”

“you get it! that’s literally what i told him! i need to sit down with you so we can discuss this.”

it’s quiet on the other side of the call, and by his silence, you can tell he’s planning something. it’s never good when he does, so you try to call out his name before he can think any more, but you’re too late.

“i think you should sit down with him to talk about what happened.”

you sarcastically laugh, “he hasn’t even texted me, there’s no way i’m talking to him first.”

“i didn’t say you should text him first, i’m just saying that you both should talk. you can’t just leave this off on bad terms.”

“and if i want to?”

“i know you don’t. plus, it feels like i’m a child whose parents are going through divorce, so you need to fix this.”

you whine into the phone, which causes johnny to laugh on the other end. he’s right, you don’t want this to end badly with jaehyun. even if you both decide to never talk again, you don’t want to have a strained relationship with him. after a few moments, you answer him, “fine, but don’t have your hopes up because even i don’t know what’s gonna happen.”

“okay, perfect, because i already kinda convinced jaehyun to meet up with you.”

“johnny!”

he defends himself, “like i said, i’m basically seeing you guys go through a divorce. please bring my family back together.”

“whatever, do what you want to do.” johnny cheers from the other end of the call, quickly letting out an you won’t be disappointed! before he hangs up, not even letting you say goodbye. as much as you try to hide it, a part of you is happy at the thought of jaehyun wanting to work things out with you.

even if you don’t know what you want just yet, you’ll get yourself ready.

you realize you’re no longer happy when a few days later, jaehyun shows up to your front doorstep, a frown painted on his face.

you almost want to slam the door on him when he speaks. his voice is quiet, “why did you tell johnny you didn’t want to hang out with me?”

as soon as he stops talking, it all clicks in your head. johnny tricked you both. you’ll have to get mad at him later, but for right now, you have to deal with jaehyun who’s pretending he didn’t just ignore you for almost two weeks. you reluctantly let him in, watching as he walks in almost too normally.

no one bothers talking, no one trying to make the first move. you’re staring him down and he tries to ignore the hard stare you’re giving him. while you’re glaring at him, you can see how he looks more tired than usual. the faint lines under his eyes give it away, and when he does finally make eye contact with you, it’s soft, no anger behind his eyes.

you step back, breathing in before speaking, “let’s go talk in my room.”

he sends you a soft smile, not needing you to guide him to your room. he knows the whole layout by now, feeling more like he’s leading you to your own room. he opens the door for you, choosing to let you walk in first. it’s awkward when you have to motion for him to step in, watching him not really knowing what to do.

you move to sit on your bed, and he moves to sit at your desk. it’s not as awkward as it is tense. you don’t know what to say, you didn’t plan on him coming over. his eyes are darting across your room, his eyebrows furrowed as he presumably tries to start the conversation.

“how are you doing?”

you roll your eyes at the simple question, “i’ve been doing fine. i feel like my life’s been a lot calmer since that day.”

he leans forward in his seat, “really? i feel like i’ve lost ten years of my life.”

deserved, you think. you gather all your thoughts before speaking, “i think the days that i spent without thinking about you really changed how i feel. i realized just how much i was entangled in your life. it wasn’t good for me.”

he looks off to the side, taking in your words. you see the hurt that settles in his face, you see how it’s going to be burned into his memory. he smacks his lips, “i think for me it’s the opposite. i realized during this time without you really solidified my feelings. i can’t lie and say that my feelings have changed, because they haven’t.”

you feel anger bubbling up inside you, but you can’t do that today. you take a few breaths, calming yourself down as you focus on what you’re most curious about, “why did you start liking me?”

“i don’t even know. i know it’s shitty of me to realize how much you mean to me after i said no to your confession. i understand why you said no to me.”

“i’m sorry for getting mad so quickly. it was just so out of the blue, i never would’ve expected you to say that.”

you pat the spot on your bed next to you, calling his name softly. he slowly moves to your side, his eyes focused on his hands splayed across his knees. after all this time without you, he wishes he could hold your hand in his, even if he tried to play it off as a joke. it’s been too long without your touch. you took away the only thing that kept him close to you.

“can i ask something?”

he nods, putting all of his focus on you. it feels intense when he does, you haven’t had him this close in a long time. you clear your throat, “this wasn’t all because of jungwoo, right?”

he sighs, his jaw clenching as he thinks of the right words to say. he’s deep in thought, and you almost want to tell him to drop it all together. he decides to speak up, “honestly? seeing you both together kind of made me realize my feelings. i was losing you to him, and i really couldn’t handle it. i’m not trying to ruin whatever you have going on with him, i promise.”

you don’t know what else to say. so much of this could've been prevented if you kept an eye out for yourself. you also wouldn’t want to go back and change what you’ve done. you don’t regret ever being jaehyun’s friend, you don’t regret all the memories you’ve made with him.

“so, this… this is really over then?”

you shrug, “i would think so.”

it’s quiet for a few moments, the both of you letting the thought seep in. “this” has never been defined between the two of you, but you can assume it’s almost everything you do together. what you’re feeling now is close to how you felt when he first rejected you. what’s different now is that you can’t help but feel just a little relieved, ending something that probably should’ve never happened.

in another world, you think you would’ve reciprocated jaehyun’s feelings. it would’ve been easy, pieces easily falling into place as you both fall for each other. it’s almost as if it were supposed to be something that was natural. but jaehyun had given the time for you to move on, and you did. it was too late for him to realize his own feelings.

“we can still be friends if you can handle that.”

he laughs incredulously, “if i can handle that? i’m a grown man, thank you very much.”

“yeah? well i think if i were you, i wouldn’t be able to hold back my feelings,” you tease.

he grumbles, “too soon, you’re too mean.”

jaehyun watches a pretty smile adorn your face, and if it weren’t for the current circumstances, he would tell you how pretty you look. he keeps the thought to himself though, opting to ask, “how about one last drink together as friends who are a little more than friends?”

you hum, pretending to think about it. you watch worry wash over his face, and you do feel bad a little bit. “one more time, just for your sake. you look like you might start crying.”

he groans as you walk away to get some wine for the both of you. you’re by yourself for a few moments as you pour the drinks. you feel awkward in here by yourself, left with thoughts and memories of all the things you’ve done together. all the times you’ve had sex, all the times where he’s felt like your boyfriend, but none of it holds to him being your friend.

you don’t know if you can continue being friends with him.

it would be unfair to jungwoo. you haven’t told him the exact dynamics of how your friendship with jaehyun worked, but you can assume he knows most of it.

you return to the sight of jaehyun looking around your room. he’s been in here too many times to count, and yet seeing him here now, it’s weird. he feels out of place, he feels almost like a stranger in your own apartment. despite the history you have with him, it seemed to fall apart so easily as soon as conflict hit.

he thanks you quietly when you hand him the glass. you take a small sip of your drink, watching jaehyun do the same from the corner of your eye. after the drink, he chooses to speak, “so how are you and jungwoo?’

“that’s how you want to start our small talk?” you splutter out.

“i mean, can i not be interested in my friends' love life?”

well it’s hard when you were directly involved in it. you shrug, taking another small sip before speaking, “i’m… really happy that i’m talking to him. he takes care of me, he’s always asking how i’m doing. it’s nice being with him.”

you can tell jaehyun is trying not to let your words affect him, “are you both… officially dating yet?”

his words make you shy, your facing feeling hot at the idea of dating jungwoo. brushing off his words, you laugh, “no! not yet, at least. i think i’d say yes if he asked me out.”

he nods, his head hanging heavy, hand twirling the wine in his glass. you know what he’s thinking, you don’t need to ask him. you can’t be his, you won’t ever be his. you think that this was never supposed to work out, no matter how hard you tried or how much you think he could’ve loved you. he wasn’t meant for you.

“okay, one more thing.”

he nods, turning his attention back on you.

“did you really mean it back then, like, when you said that you weren’t ready for a relationship?”

“yes, i was scared. i think back then, even though i didn’t realize it, i also had feelings for you. but it was… it just wasn’t the right time for me. even though i liked spending so much time with you, there were things i wanted to figure out first.”

you cock your head to the side, “like?”

he hums in thought for a bit, trying to remember times from so long ago. thinking back, you remember how you felt old, you felt like you were already an adult. but he’s right, there were still things you didn’t know about yourself, and you wonder if dating jaehyun would’ve stopped you from figuring them out.

“i guess… mostly wanting to decide what i wanted to do with my life. now that i’ve somewhat settled, i feel more confident in what i want. even though it came at the worst time, i was so sure that i could see you in my future.”

the confession doesn’t hurt as much as you thought it would. you can relate to how he feels. for the longest time, you felt that you needed jaehyun in your life. it wasn’t until after he confessed to you that you saw that there’s more to your life than him. you’re thankful for all the time you’ve had with him, but there’s still so much more for you to do.

it’s like this for a few more hours, the sunset bleeding into the night time. you both have a few more drinks, jaehyun eventually turns on music playing on his phone. you feel a lot better now. you only want the best for jaehyun, and you think that this is the best for the both of you.

jaehyun has to leave at some point, one of the last buses back to his place coming soon. you don’t want him to go, you don’t want him to leave the comfort of your bedroom. there’s a small part of you that’s scared that you’ll never see him here again. you try to remind him that this is what you both need, clear, distinct boundaries.

you walk him to your door, “you’ll text me once you're at your apartment, right?”

he shuffles over, “yeah, i will. johnny will make sure i get there safe.”

you nod, opening the door for him. he walks out, watching you with an unsure look on his face. a part of you wants to let him in, wants to let him give you one last kiss. it’s wrong, your grip on your door getting tighter at the thought. he still has a strong pull on you, your hand wanting to reach for his.

it’s not meant to be.

“goodnight, jaehyun. i’ll see you soon, okay?”

“alright, goodnight. i… i’ll be here if you ever need me. i’ll wait.”

you smile, “i know. thank you, get back safe.”

he nods, waving you off before he walks away. you close the door, locking it behind you. it’s quiet now, no soft conversations, no laughing, just the sound of your feet pattering on the floor.

you don’t really feel like crying. you don’t feel like there’s something missing inside you. jaehyun used to be a big part of you, but as time went on, he took up less and less space.

there’s more important things to worry about than someone who couldn’t make time for you. you have time to figure things out now, you have time to figure out what you really want, whether that’s jungwoo or someone else.

you’ve never felt better.

as jaehyun scrolls through instagram, he sees a post from you. it’s been a while since he’s seen you in person, so he’ll take anything he can get. the first few photos are of you, and the next few are pictures of things he assumes you found pretty. the last photo is what makes him pause, a photo of what he can only assume is jungwoo holding your hand.

he checks the comments, some of your friends replying with different emojis, all to tease you with. they all seem to know about your budding relationship with jungwoo. jaehyun’s glad that it’s going well for the both of you. it’s what you deserve after what he put you through.

he hung out with you and johnny the other day. as much as everyone tried to be normal, he couldn’t shake off the feeling that he changed the dynamics of your friendship. you and johnny were the same, easily laughing and joking around with each other. it’s not exactly awkward when you and jaehyun talk, but the air around you is certainly different.

it’s what should’ve happened, at the start of it all you both should’ve set rules. jaehyun realizes that he would’ve never gotten to see you in the ways he did. warm lights from his kitchen painting over your skin, or when the light from the moon would shine over your body while he holds you close. he wouldn’t trade those memories for anything.

you were all he had, and losing you is something he will always regret. he knows that you’re doing good now, not just with jungwoo. he doesn’t want to come in and ruin what you’ve built up. it doesn’t matter how much he wants to hold you in his arms or kiss you, you’re better off without him.

he just wishes he had more time.

a/n: hey people... what did we think of this ending... jaehyun is my friend i do not hate him i like him... anyways i hoped u like this... it took longer than i thought it would but im glad its out HOORAYYY

taglist: @froggyforyoongi @the-universe-in-you-jjh @ppeachyttae @omlhyck @hazyhae @haechology @jaehyunful @girlwholoveslpreppyattire @diorcities @hrts4doie @ohmytyong @ecvm5236 @faeryus @riri4andy @rjtulips @missesgirl @shiorebirth @sugaringgcaramel @camomillie @ninicornposts @il02isa @sincerelyneo @perfumejamal @justhgiwo @lovingyoulovinme2 @babyriannie @eunseoksimp @jeonreal @mawnehkah @shoetaroshoe (thank u all omg 🫂❤️)

#nct smut #nct fic #nct 127 smut #nct jaehyun smut #jaehyun fic #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun angst #jaehyun scenarios

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arlertwhore · 2 months

Text

pairing: paige bueckers x fem! reader

synopsis: paige is your sneaky link & you wear her jersey to surprise her after a game.

warning (s): smut → dom paige, slightly sub reader, power play, pussy eating, fingering, nipple sucking… etc MINORS DNI

word count: 1.5k

author note: not edited, wrote late at night, and rushed ending kinda.

Paige Bueckers was NOT your girlfriend. Neither of you even had the bandwidth to focus on romance — her, with an intense basketball career occurring outside of her dynamic with you, and you, an essential slave to your university studies.

That's what made it feel like fate when you guys first met at the Uni New Years Party. Genuinely, you both believed so, and had told one and other that before fervently making out in the washroom that exact night. Granted, you were both insanely drunk, but Paige could recount the story like it was yesterday that she saw you, single, hot, and dancing unbotheredly, though it'd been three months already."Gosh, you were just sooo cute. I was asking KK & all em', 'Who is she? How is she single?' And then they're like 'Oh, she's focused and questioning, not the romantic type,' and I was thinking, 'She's perfect.'"

Despite knowing that Paige and you are not dating, and that she really appreciates your understanding of casual, which is why she's consistently fucking just you, you can't help but feel butterflies when she describes your existence as perfect.

As an athlete, a great one at that, nothing was ever perfect to Paige. Except for you. And shit, whenever you recalled her slew of admirers at your school, on the net, and among her fans, the fact she deemed none of them were worthy of her undivided attention like she had with just you made you spiral.

You loved being her only girl. You loved being the epitome of perfection to Paige Bueckers, UConn's star. Her game tonight, televised, had ran late, and you thought she'd be too exhausted to come over and play, however, after winning, she was fired up and soon sent you a picture of her in an Uber, telling you she was on her way.

Most nights, sometimes early mornings, it was the same routine. She would come over, you would buzz her into the building, let her into your apartment, and she'd shower before fucking you into oblivion whichever way she pleased. It was always fun, varying some nights. This night though, to celebrate UConn's first win of the season, you surprised her by wearing her jersey. 'Bueckers' read the back, '#5'. When you opened the door, Paige was wearing a white shirt, grey sweats, and glasses, her hair in a half-neat, half-disheveled bun. She looked so hot.

You could feel yourself getting wet at the mere sight of her. She was on her phone due to the wait for you to open the door, and she hadn't yet looked up from the gadget as she chided playfully, "Let's start opening this door faster, ma. I waited long enough to get to you all-da—" She stopped; blue eyes fixed upon your body and her jersey and your body in her jersey. You giggled teasingly. "You like it, P?" you asked, guiding her much taller stature into your apartment by the wrist with considerable ease. Paige, who usually held control, was left dumbfounded at the sight of you. "My gosh, baby," she murmured softly, the wrist you'd just been previously holding pulling you closer into her body as the other hand rubbed down your smaller frame, smoothing circles into your lower back until she gripped a handful of your bare ass, making you moan. "Paige!" you whimpered, cheek against cheek, breathlessly. "C'mon, P, play nice with me." you purred sensually. She licked her lips, pleading, "C'mere," her voice low and laced with desperation. You wouldn't listen, though, reveling in your effect on her and how she was breaking, wanting to be in control for once. You buried your face in the curve of her neck, tracing tender kisses along her most sensitive spot, coaxing out heavy, breathless sighs from the taller blonde. Your hands found her hair as you sucked a spot onto her neck, intertwining into it and unraveling her updo as you worked on her, leaving it in disarray.

"Y/N," she exhaled shakily, "Baby, quit that, or I'm not playing nice with you tonight." she warned, tone determined to repossess her dominance. Paige never really called you 'babe,' or 'baby,' — nothing sweet like that. Typically, her nasty mouth — the one that satisfied you and degraded you all at once — was calling you a dirty slut or whore, and when it got intense, she'd make you call your ownself things. She was immensely losing it talking sweetly, and this was a stark reminder.

"Do you want me stop, Paige?" you murmured, pausing briefly only to speak before delving into her neck again, licking a hot stripe up her new purple hickey before nibbling on her ivory skin. Paige suppresses a groan, reducing it to a tiny indelible noise.

"I do," she responds positively, her hands on your waist, smoothing down your ribcage before gently lifting your jersey up until her hands were underneath it. "I don't know if I wanna keep this on you or take it off," she husked conflictedly, kneading your tits.

"You're so fuckin' pretty, angel, you'd look so good both ways." Paige surprised you when her hands fell low again, lifting you up and forcing you to cling to her body as she carried you toward your bedroom. The entire way there, your lips had been pressed against each other's, and though it was risky, you trusted Paige's coordination as an athlete. Before no time, you had made it safely into your bedroom, and she gently placed you down on the mattress before stripping off her white tee.

After discarding of it somewhere amongst the dimly lit room, she slides her body between your legs, pressing her pink lips against yours and her strong knee into your bare bottom half, the friction causing you to whimper into the kiss. Moments later, she pulls away from the kiss briefly and gazes down between you both, inspecting the now dark grey sweatpants for any signs of damage, her mouth slightly agape as she marvels at the sight of your slick that's coated her pants. "You're such a slut," she says in a sultry chuckle, "I can't believe you're this wet for me and I've barely even touched you yet," she breathes out in disbelief.

"I'm your slut, Paige. Touch me," you beg. She slips her fingers inside you, torn between focusing on the way your face contorts in pleasure as she scissors you open or on how effortlessly you accommodate her lengthy digits. She decides on both, using her free hand to push the jersey up before latching onto your nipple and sucking gently, as if she's unsure about how you might respond to the intense pleasure you're experiencing.

She watches you attentively, so beautiful and immersed in pure pleasure, your mouth parted with little gasps falling from your gorgeous lips as Paige presses against the sensitive pad inside your pussy that aligns with your clit on the outside. She ceases sucking. "I want to watch you play with it," she states. You're dazed, out of breath with your head cloudy, and you manage to murmur, "W-what?"

Paige doesn't say anything. She resumes her attention, this time on your left nipple, nibbling gently, and she guides your hand down to your clit with her free hand, assisting you in beginning the circular motions upon it. The stimulation of each pleasure zone on your body has you arching your back, whining out Paige's name in a mantra. "Fuck, P, mmph," you gasp, body on fire, "Please don't stop, mommy, I'm so fucking close." you plead, voice trembling with need. You swear you could hear your heartbeat momentarily, the intensity building to an unbearable crescendo as you teetered on the edge of release. But Paige did say she wouldn't play nice, and she smirks up at you deviously. “Tell P how good she makes you feel,” she commands, her pace slowing to an agonizing speed as she relished in the power dynamic at play. You knew the game she wanted to play; still tinged with the frustration from your earlier encounter where you had taken control.

Too horny to care, you proclaimed, "You make me feel so good, Paige,” voice filled with longing. “I love your fingers so much, yes,” moaning as she gently accelerated, indulging your desires just as you indulged hers: submission, each of you surrendering to the other’s needs, finding pleasure in the delicate balance of power and desire. "Good girl," she praises against your chest. "You're a good fucking slut, right?"

You nodded, "Yours." closing your eyes, unable to keep looking into hers. She looked too good. Paige was fortunate that you were rendered immobile by the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your body. If you could move, you'd pounce on her with an aggressive kiss. Her hair cascades around her shoulders, her glasses still perched on her nose, and that cute appreciative smile she gives you as she nastily, relentlessly fucks her fingers into you sends butterflies swirling in your stomach.

It'd been three months being with Paige and the fact that the golden star of UConn is here, with you, not even an hour after basking in the spotlight of victory, is surreal. She generally was. It was surreal to gaze upon such a stunning girl as you reached the peak of bliss, cries of pleasure mingling with the realization that you were climaxing, hard and long. And through it all, she maintained eye contact, talking you through it, her gaze unwavering. "Cum on my fingers, baby, I want to taste you. I want to see you do it. C'mon," she coaxes, her voice dripping with desire as she urges you on.

You were drowning in her. And soon enough, she was drowning in you, having creamed all over her fingers. Paige pumps thrice more before bringing her fingers to her mouth, her tongue swirling around them as she savored your taste, gaze locking with yours in a dirty exchange of desire. "Tastes as sweet as you are," she remarks, chuckling softly before offering her fingers to you to clean off the rest. "Say ahh," she commands, and you eagerly comply, seeing the benefits of giving into Paige, sticking out your tongue out to allow her to place her fingers into your mouth. "I want them spotless," she demands, her tone filled with authority as you bob your head, licking the remainder of cum off her fingers. "Suck on them," she says, her eyes smoldering with desire as she watches you suscept, eager to fulfill her wishes.

When she's satisfied, she kisses you deeply, her lips igniting a fire within you as you revel in her taste. As she stands up, removing her bottoms, you can't help but admire the sight before yourself. Paige, the girl you were with, had the most exquisite pussy you'd ever seen. You were grateful to be the only girl allowed to experience it, but it truly was a treasure. The harmony and balance of each feature always left you in awe, and you excitedly anticipate the pleasure of eating her out, knowing that it's a demonstration of your complete submission to her. You don't wait. The instant her sweats come off, you yank her by her bra, pulling her onto the bed. There's no time for her to assert dominance as you take control, dropping to your knees below the bed and holding her knees in each hand like they were stirrups.

Her underwear still on, you tease her, licking a stripe against her clothed cunt, tongue flexing at her clit and dampening the spot. "Love this pussy," you groan, voice filled with desire as you used a finger to play against her folds, eliciting a frustrated moan from her. "Stop, Y/N," she pleads, voice scorned with true confliction, torn between the desire to surrender to pleasure and the need to regain control.

"Just wanna hear it once, P," you smirk up at her. "Say please, Number Five." She bites her lip, throwing her head back, causing her glasses to fall off, her bare eyes now locking with yours. It's difficult to maintain your composure under her intense gaze, but you manage, licking another small stripe against her underwear, causing her to jolt. "A-ah, fuck," she moans, trying to close her legs, but you hold them open. "I just wanna make you feel good, Paige, and I can tell you wanna feel good too. Say it."

She exhales, her voice pleading, "Please, Y/N," as she pulls her underwear aside, revealing her glistening pink folds. Your mouth waters. "Can you eat my pussy?" she asks, so politely you wanna kiss her, but you wanna eat her more. She holds her underwear to the side, and you accept the invitation, tongue exploring her wetness with fervor. Her hands flies to your head, something to anchor herself onto as she squirms away from your powerful tongue. You coast her back, however, and suction her clit into her your mouth, moaning into her pussy. Paige isn't a loud girl, but she's having trouble restricting her moans. The scent of her arousal fills the air, driving you wild with desire as you delve deeper, savoring the taste of her essence. As you continue to lavish your attention on her, the intensity of her pleasure builds, her grip on the sheets tightening and knuckles turning white as she writhes beneath you. You feel her body quivering with each flick of your tongue, moans growing louder and more desperate with each passing moment. You spit down onto her, making it sloppy, merely adding as a plus to the rawness of the carnal energy between you two. Her wetness coats your lips and chin, the sound of your movements mingling with her cries of ecstasy. And as you bring her to the brink of release, a tear runs down Paige's face, a testament to the overwhelming intensity of her pleasure. But you don't let up, determined to bring her to the peak of pleasure and beyond. With each lick and suck, you push her closer to the edge, until finally, she shatters beneath me, her body convulsing in waves of bliss as she succumbs to the ecstasy of her climax. The night was far from done. Your jersey was still on, and you still wanted to play.

guys i wrote this because there’s lit no Paige smut on here pls pull thru

Send me req btw!! I’m def considering writing again masterlist

#paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers #smut bueckers #smut #uconn huskies #uconn wbb #iowa wbb #wbb #march madness #ncaa tournament #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers x reader #paige x OC #wlw post #pb #Paige x fem reader #uconn women’s basketball #uconn vs iowa #smutwccb

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shotmrmiller · 4 months

Text

soulmate au part 1

john price x f!reader

wc: 1.2k

unedited, forgive my mistakes.

since you were born, your world has been grey. you never thought anything of it, until at school, they started teaching you colours. the only ones in the room that could see more than just different shades of grey, apart from the teacher, were identical twins.

weird.

you went home and asked your parents.

"we are born missing half of ourselves. we have a fated one, and when you meet them, your world will look the way it was meant to."

oh. but... "in class, there were twins that could see colour. what about them?"

they look surprised for a second until your dad softly explains. "in rare instances, the soulmate bond will be platonic. which makes sense in this case, because twins grow up with a connection regular people like us will never understand."

you nod and lower your gaze to look at your shoes. you wonder if the person meant for you is interested in junie b. jones books like you are.

in high school, you crush on this pretty girl— a cheerleader. her hair is long and beautiful, her face is small and round, and she's so kind. just your type.

but no colour stains your vision, so you burrow your emotions deep and mourn the loss of what could've been.

in college, one of your friends ask you if you've met your soulmate yet.

"no, not yet," you lament. what she says after freezes the blood in your veins.

"my mom knew someone whose soulmate was already dead before they had even been born," she comments while stabbing a grape tomato with her fork. "it was really tragic, because she'll never know what it's like to know a love that has no equal."

your heart is in your throat, and you find it hard to swallow the food in your mouth.

what if your soulmate is already dead? oh, god. you might just throw up. your friend doesn't seem to notice the change in your demeanor and continues to babble carelessly about how she knew someone that knew someone who's soulmate had turned out to be a murderer.

oh my fucking god.

you quickly run to the bathroom and throw up your lunch.

how cruel is the universe? to have no control over who is meant to be for you.

you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and lean against the stall of the bathroom. you should've known that this soulmate business was too good to be true.

cupping your hands, you rinse the taste of bile out of your mouth before walking back to your friend who stayed in her seat.

"jesus, you look terrible, you alright?" she asks.

running your fingers through your hair, you huff. "i've certainly been better. just got a bit nauseous, nothing serious. maybe it's a stomach bug."

"oooh, you better not be pregnant! what of your dreams of working in the medical field?"

you giggle at her response. "that'd be impossible unless i'm the virgin mary."

she gapes comically then leans in and whispers, "you're lying! don't tell me you haven't dated anyone just because they weren't your soulmate."

you shrug, and keep your eyes fixed on your half-eaten plate of food. "i don't really wanna talk about it, if that's alright with you. besides, you've got bigger things to worry about, like the upcoming exam for mr. richardson."

slapping a hand to her forehead, she exclaims, "oh, shit! i totally forgot! shit!"

you watch her inhale the rest of her salad and toss her trash before waving goodbye and sprinting toward the library.

with a sigh, you look down at your food. grey. lifeless. shaking your head, you pick up your plate and toss it in the bin.

you decide to focus solely on your studies. you have dreams of being a doctor and pining after someone you haven't even met yet would only serve as a distraction.

your white coat grazes your calves as you walk toward your new patient. standing outside the room, you pick up the clipboard.

Price, John. 34, Active Military.

he's the head of the task force! god, you've only heard stories of them from the other medics on base who have met them, so to finally come face to face with the man, the myth, the legend? you wipe your clammy hands on the fabric of your scrubs and clear your throat.

be professional, be professional. he's just another patient, it's no big deal.

rapping your knuckles on the door, you wait a second before twisting the knob with a shaky hand. you nervously keep your eyes on the clipboard as you walk in.

"good morning, captain price."

"mornin', doc," he rumbles.

oh, his deep voice just might be the end of you.

"you don't sound all that happy to be here, captain," you tease while flipping through his medical history papers.

he lets out a low chuckle, and you squeeze your thighs together at the sound. delicious.

"nothin' personal, doc. just don't like bein' here, you understand."

lightly laughing at his joke, you finally steel your nerves and look up at him.

only to have your vision bleed in something you don't understand. is that colour? is this what colour looks like?

the clipboard drops, clattering to the floor. john— being the courteous gentleman that he is— quickly kneels to grab it and lifts his head as he hands it to you.

he freezes in place, the clipboard slipping from his hands as he stares at you.

you thickly swallow, and dumbly question, "do you...has your....colour? can you see colour?"

unblinking, john's eyes are fixated on you as he remains silent.

your eyes dart around to take in his features. his brightly-coloured eyes are framed by lines that hint at his age, his strong jaw adorned by a mutton-chop beard. his nose is specked with a beauty mark.

"what colour are your eyes, captain?" you softly ask.

he closes his mouth and takes in a sharp breath. "i've been told they're blue."

"blue," you smile. the eyes of your soulmate are blue.

but then, your delighted smile melts off your face, in horror.

there's a shiny band on his finger. he's married.

john price, your soulmate, is fucking married.

your vision distorts with the tears that threaten to spill and bite your bottom lip to stop it from trembling. it feels like there are shards of glass in your lungs, cutting you open with each quivering breath you take. your pain is red-hot, searing under your skin, flowing through your veins like molten lead.

john knows exactly what you're looking at.

"love—" he starts but you cut him off swiftly.

"don't. you don't owe me anything, captain. uhm, but uh... maybe it's best that we switch your doctors, yeah? conflict of interest, and all that."

you all but run away, away from that room, from him.

how terribly unlucky.

you head towards your office, which is down the hall, and slam the door closed. only then, do you cry, and mourn what should've been.

#call of duty #cod mw2 #cod mwii #john price x f reader #john price x reader #john price #captain john price #captain john price x reader #captain price

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elliesgaythoughts · 3 months

Text

Peek a boo

Perv!Sub Ellie x Dom!fem!reader

MDNI

Warnings: masturbation r! and Ellie, squirting, fingering, oral E!receiving, blindfold, tribbing, reader smacks Ellie’s face(non sexually), blood(non violent or menstral), dildo e! receiving💙

You knew Ellie like the back of your hand you knew what she liked you knew what she loved you knew her fears and what made her tick and apparently that all was you. Everything she does is you she lives and breathes you. Ellie obviously didn’t know you were aware of all this, to her all you knew is that you two met in collage and lived in the same flat to save money.

You both weren’t exactly close but you were polite to eachother you would say “hi” to her and she’d reply the usual “hello” shyly and scurry back to her room avoiding your gaze.

You’d be worried that she didn’t appreciate your company if it wasn’t for you catching her literally moaning your name in your bed with her nose nuzzled into your pillow, ass up and hands frantically moving in her boxers, the dark grey patch on the centre of the fabric standing out from the rest. You were supposed to be out all night but decided to come home early and head to bed because of a pounding headache, only to be greeted with such a pathetic yet ego boosting scene.

You never brought this up to her, instead you wanted to see how far she would take it and to be honest you loved the idea of this timid little nerd being completely obsessed with you.

Your tests started small, leaving your chapstick out in the morning just to find Ellie with a pink tint to her previously chapped lips and a guilty aura surrounding her when you got home but it grew thrilling to see just how addicted she was to you, you wanted to see her take this thurther leaving your white lace thong on the top of the dirty laundry pile, only to come home to all your clothes folded perfectly and smelling of fresh cotton outside your room door but your underwear was nowhere to be found and you’d have it no other way, to say the least, you found flattering and you loved the attention, so it became routine, you’d leave a pair of your underwear out every Friday morning and they’d be missing for you getting back home, only to show up randomly a week later.

What you loved to do was play with yourself moaning loudly into the night and no matter how late it was you’d hear little creaks on the floorboards outside your bedroom door and if you swallow your moans enough you can hear Ellie’s rapid breaths on the other side of your door and little wet squelches, after you came to the thought of Ellie getting off to just your moans you roll over tierd looking at the digital clock that read 4:32am. you hear her room door click close and a thud as she throws herself on her bed and sighs, you sigh with her. It was fun teasing her but you wanted more, you wanted to see her when she was whimpering and moaning and crying out in pleasure because of you, you wanted to see the tears stream down her freckled face and so you made it your mission..

You chose to give Ellie exactly what she gave you: a fucking show. There you were, in the exact same position you found her in that fateful night, ass up and head in your pillow your thong pulled to the side as you played with your dripping cunt, your room door swinging open and moans of Ellie’s name leaving your lips just loud enough for it to sound like your calling on her. You dipped your finger into your soaked entrance because just the thought of Ellie catching you like this had you fucking dripping, thrusting in and out of yourself and whimpering her name summoned her like magic, you heard that usual squeak of your floorboards knowing she’ll find you like this, you arch your back deeper and release the most sluttiest moan you’ve ever heard and shove a second finger into your weeping entrance “fffuck Ellie ri-right thereee ughh”. You hear a muffled groan, smiling to yourself you peek between your legs and you almost cum at the sight, Ellie leaning against your doorframe with a hand over her mouth, eyes close and her hand moving frantically in her trousers, her head tilted back in pleasure.

“ELLIE!??” you shout in faux shock pretending to try cover yourself, her eyes pop open and the colour drains from her face, she looks like she seen a ghost and tries to back away but trips up on her own two feet, falling on her ass, poor baby. You stand up walking towards her and she can’t even move. You admire the blush on her cheeks, the tears brimming in her eyes under her glasses and the slick glistening on her fingertips “i-i am so sorry” she sobs out and you shush her, extending a hand out to her, she grabs it fearing she could somehow make you more upset by refusing your hand. You pull her to her feet and regardless of height, she’s still practically cowering beneath you.

“aww Ellie were you watching me fuck myself?” You coo.

She doesn’t answer you, instead she stares at the floor silently.

So you slap her across the face, not too hard but enough for her to groan a little in pain as she rubs her cheek, staring at you stupidly, clearly in shock by your actions.

“answer me” you speak.

“yes” she practically barley whispers and she looks like she’s about to pass out, even in this situation she can’t help but scan your body in your underwear sheepishly admiring every curve. Wrapping your hand around Ellie’s wrist you walk her into your bedroom.

“Sit” you instruct tilting your head towards the bed and she does exactly as she’s told sitting on the edge of your bed. You don’t even glance at her as you walk to your wardrobe, leaning over to look through your drawers, putting your dripping pussy on display for her, your thong still pulled to the side, her breathing and squirming is the only sounds filling the room till you speak still looking through the drawers “strip”

“what?” she whispers

“don’t make me tell you twice Ellie”.

You listen to her shuffle for a bit before you stand straight and turn to face her, the sight of her in just her boxers make your cunt ache as trail towards the bed, a peice of pink fabric in your hands, you crawl on top of it and raise your hand to make a come hither motion at Ellie, the poor girl is practically shaking as she crawls towards you and sits between your legs, your hands trace her shoulders to try calm her down “did I look pretty?” You whisper.

“what?” She trembles between your legs

You huff “did I look pretty…with my fingers buried in my pussy ellie?” You place kisses on her shoulder.

She closes her eyes and squeeze her thighs together “Really pretty” she breaths out

“Did I make you wet baby” your lips graze her neck

“Y-yes” she whines

“You’re such a perv Ellie, I bet you wanna watch me suck on your pussy, do you want that?”

“Pleasee” tears are brimming in her eyes with desperation

“You don’t deserve that tho, do you ellie?”

She stays quiet, knowing the answer

“No you don’t get to see my lips wrapped around your pretty clit, do you?”

“Please, please”

You trail your fingertips to her inner thigh and her hips buck, her glasses sliding a little down her nose and she reaches up to push them back up but you stop her hand and pull the frames off her face placing them on the bedstand and she’s watches you curiously

“you’re not gonna need them” you reassure her.

She knows exactly what you mean, picking up the pink fabric, you hold your hand out and she places it gently in your hand “good girl” you say and peck her on the face, she whines at your actions “I don’t think you deserve to see me Ellie, not after letting me catch you being such a little perv”.

She squeezes her thighs together at the thought off you blindfolding her and fucking her “bet you wanted me to catch you, just want me to put you in your place baby huh?”

“Mmhm” she confirms,looking down, you follow her gaze and see a ridiculously large wet patch on her boxers, her slick literally leaking through them and onto your duvet, the sight makes your cunt throb, getting on your knees behind her, you’re squeezing your thighs together as you say “relax for me baby” she nods, playing with her hands in her lap and you reach round grabbing her chin pulling her into a sloppy kiss and she’s moaning into your mouth instantly, tongues rolling against eachother, wet smacking sounds filling the room, her drool landing on your chin as she grinds into the bed, your hand wraps loosely around her throat to get her attention

“you’re gonna do exactly as I say, and if you don’t I’ll stop do you understand?” She nods frantically “good fucking girl” you praise and her hand reaches down to touch her clit but you slap it and she yelps pulling her hand away “that’s mine now, understand?”

“Y-yes ma’am” you roll your eyes behind her head, of course she has a fucking ma’am kink.

“Your safe word is peach” you say placing the blindfold over her eyes and tying it behind her head “what’s your safe word?”

“Peach” she breaths out

“Good girl” you kiss the top of her head and stand off the bed “lie down for me angel”

“Yes ma’am” she whispers laying down, you look down at her admiraing her chest raising and falling with her heavy breaths, she looks so helpless like this, her hands gripping onto your sheets, all you want to do is make her feel good.

You stand at the bottom of your bed and Ellie gasps as you grip her ankle’s gently and pull her legs apart, crawling in between them, you kiss the tip of her pretty nose and you swear you see her lip twitch, it makes you blush, she truely is the most beautiful woman you have ever seen.

you place a barely there kiss onto her little smile “you’re gonna do exactly what I say and if you don’t I’ll stop, understand?”

“y-yeah” her shyness returning.

You hear her nervous breaths so you reach down and interlace one of your hands with hers, holding it besides her head to let her know that you’re not gonna hurt her..too much. She returns the touch by squeezing your hand tightly, you practically melt for this little geek.

You hold a kiss to her lips for a moment and pull away to kiss her jaw, your other hand trailing up and down the outside of her thigh, making goosebumps appear on her porcelain skin, your lips trail to her ear

“i could do anything I want to you…and you’d let me” you laugh

She’s nodding as you trail you teeth across the sensitive spot on her neck, she moans as you nip the skin there licking over it messily and pressing a wet kiss onto the purple skin, Ellie’s crying out like she’s already being fucked senseless.

You kiss the valley of her chest and peck your way to her pink nipple and flick it, she gasps as her hips buck into yours and you shush her “shh, I got you baby” you trace her waist as you suck on her sensitive nub, your hand catches her by surprise as it reaches up and tweaks the opposite nipple before your mouth laches onto it sucking and flicking, your spit practically coating her little breasts, it’s to much and not enough for her at the same time “p-please, please” she begs, defeated already, and you know what she wants, your lips barely touch her as you lightly trail them down her chest valley all the way to her auburn happy trail, you kiss the waistband of her boxers and press your lips onto her mound through them “can I take these off angel?” You whisper against her skin

“Please” she pleads, nodding.

You hook your fingertips into her waistband and pull, relishing in the sound of the fabric separating from her wet, sticky folds and the soft gasp that leaves her lips when your warm breath hits her throbbing clit. you trail both your hands lightly up her inner thighs and push them apart dipping your head and licking her outer lips that were already soaked in her precious slick, “ughh” her hips buck towards your face, one of your hands push onto her belly to shove her deep into the matteress, you experimentally lick across her clit and moan at the taste of her, suddenly becoming insatiable you begin licking and sucking on her precious clit messily, her slick coating your nose down, she’s squirming as you begin licking up and down her sensitive folds, tasting all her essence, you suck on her labia as you make your way down to her entrance and circle it, shes pulsing, desperately trying to suck you in.

“plea-ahh!” she squeals as you push your tongue into her warmth, your nose brushing her wet clit, she instantly laces her fingers into your scalp and starts to ride your face, her thighs pressing against your jaw and hips bucking up, you pull your pink muscle out and shove it in again, she’s practically crying out above you as you feel her belly contracting under your palm, you shove your face deeper into her suffocating yourself with her womanhood as you hook your arms around her thighs, her walls are squeezing on you, “d-don’t, don’t stop, umgonnacum uhhh pleaseee” she cries out.

You turn your face to the side cutting off contact with her and she practically starts to cry above you as she desperately humps your cheek trying to seek any friction, you lift your head “you cum when I tell you to cum” you instruct.

“Please please, I’m sorry” she sobs out, just desperate to cum.

“oh you will be” you breathlessly laugh out…

“Eleven, fffuck t-twelve-” she sobs out as you push your finger in and out of her leaking entrance, she wants to squeal your name but she knows if you she stops counting you’ll also stop, shes already fucked up once making you restart when you where in the thirties.

You ram into her harshly

“ahh please” her thighs are twitching

“Number?” You ignore her pleads

“Th-thirteen, can I cum”

“N-” you’re cut off when she interrupts you with her begging

“Pleasee” as she squeals as she clamps onto your finger

You slap the outside of her thigh harshly and shove a second finger inside her, thrusting to punctuate every word “no.ellie.you.can’t.”

You thrust into her a few more times and you feel her walks clamp tightly onto you, her thighs squeeze your forearm and she’s pleading “sorry” repeatedly, knowing that she can’t stop herself from what she’s about to do any longer, and you let her, knowing you can use this as a reason to punish her. she squeezes your fingers so tightly you can’t even move them anymore and she’s writhing above you, her hands dug into the sheet beneath her as she screams your name, pearlescent cum leaks from her, all down your fingers and palm, dripping onto your duvet, you kiss her navel as her breathing steadies she holds onto your hair gently, you slowly begin thrusting into her again and she can’t take it as she feels you speeding up “s’to much” she squeals clamping onto your fingers again, you pull your finger out her and she whines in disappointment, only to scream when you push in a third finger and slam into her repeatedly hitting her sweet spot, her nails are digging into your forearm, light specs of blood treakling down your arm “stop stop pleasee” she sobs

You lean down and suck her clit a few times

“doesn’t sound like the safe word”

“Please” she sounds so weak

“Thought you wanted to cum, fucking slut” you end the sentence with another hard thrust and flick your tongue across her clit and she can’t even speak as she wraps her legs around your head and squirts all across your face, you still inside her and flick her clit a couple more times, feeling her almost crush your fingers, you hear her sob and almost feel a little bad, pulling out of her and crawl up her to kiss her passionately “th-thank you” she says into the kiss.

You were supposed to be punishing her, but apparently she liked getting treated like a fucking whore.

“I hope you don’t think I’m done with you” you say.

“I know” Ellie confirms..

You’re thrusting the faux dick softly in and out of her, hand on the base as you roll your tongue across her bud, the taste of her had you literally salivating, you close your eye’s, listening to her whines and pleads and you fucking can’t take it anymore.

“Take it off” you beg but she can’t hear you past herself, moaning loudly. You squeeze her hip to get her attention and her head whips in your direction.

“Ellie, take it off, please”

Her hand reaches up and she shakily pulls the blindfold off, her teary green eyes locking onto yours, you look up at her, taking her whole clit into your mouth sucking and flicking at it, she grabs your hand that’s pressing on her lower belly, interlacing her fingers with yours and she starts to tremble a little “p-please ahh oh my god” her hips are twitching “don’t stohp” she whines as a white ring starts to form at the bottom of your dick as you quickly speed up your pace pushing in and out of her, her orgasm takes over her, legs spasming and belly contracting, you slow down your thrusts and lay your head on her inner thigh admiring as her bud twitches. You pull out hearing her whine at the feeling of being empty, you peck her pink fluttering clit and she hums at the sensation, you kiss her lower belly and look up to her face watching the tears roll down her freckled cheeks as her eyes are close in bliss, you crawl up her body and kiss her on the lips, both hands on her chest. She opens her eyes slowly and stares into yours her arm hooked around your waist, you pause admiring the sight you’ve made out of her.

Her hand reaches up cautiously and pulls your bra cup down a little and starts to play with your nipple, you moan at the touch “wha-ughh what are you doing?”

“you never got off” she says, concerned about your pleasure

“It’s okay baby”

“No, no it’s not” she huffs and kisses you again

You pull away “you’re right angel, you got one more in you?” you smile

she closes her eyes preparing herself for what’s about to come and takes a deep breath “yes”…

Your pussy is above hers, your slick landing on her clit, you press your warmth onto hers fully you both are breathing heavily as you drag yourself across her, moving your pelvis forward and backwards, her hips matching your rhythm, your holding each others hands, your face on the side of her neck breathing down her skin as you rut against eachother, tears welling in your eyes and squeezing around nothing, your clit is beating against hers as warm tears roll down your face your voice raising in pitch, the only thing you can think and feel is ellie, her name leaving your mouth like a prayer on loop

“D-don’t stop” she begs as your flesh becomes one, heat burning off each others skin as ellie desperately presses her lips to yours breathing life into you as she cums onto you, her body shakes, her clit banging against yours repeatedly and your head dips agains her chest as you tremble above her and your orgasm crashes over you, you cum, squirting onto her, your limbs growing weak, some of your release dripping into her as you collapse against her, chest to chest, both of you close your eyes and the only sound filling the room is the sound of each others gasps for air

You feel like your heart is swelling out of your chest as tears well in your eyes, you feel genuinely happy for the first time in years, “I love you Ellie” you speak into the silence.

“I love you too” she whispers, you press your lips to hers and she sobs into your mouth, you feel her hot tears against your skin “it’s okay baby, I got you” and now your the one crying, hands wrapping around eachovers bodies “I love you” she says again against your lips.

“I love you too Ellie” you reassure her.

You both lay there limbs and hands intertwined, head in the side of her neck as you fall asleep as one, the warm sunrise shining through your window and landing on your shared flesh…

#ellie x masc reader #ellie x black!reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie x you #ellie x y/n #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #ellie smut #ellie the last of us #sub ellie williams #ellie williams #ellie tlou #abby x black reader #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson #abby x fem!reader #abby anderson x female reader #abby the last of us

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cardansriddle · 6 months

Text

Sugar - (tom riddle x fem!muggle!reader)

Summary: Perhaps it was an accident. Or perhaps the fates were mocking him. He had not meant to venture into the little coffee shop and he had most definitely not meant to return. But he kept coming back and the waitress kept putting sugar packets near his coffee every damn time.

Warnings: Tom gets possessive halfway through so it's pretty tame for him. not proofread. oh also self-indulgent crime & punishment debate (got a lil carried away).

A/N: 5.5k words but it's kinda mehh. to the person who requested this, i hope you enjoy it at least a little <3

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

Tom felt as if he was a solitary figure in a world hushed by the winter's harsh embrace. With each step he took away from the desolate building of grey against the pristine canvas of winter, he felt lighter. He did not cast a look back towards the orphanage looming behind him, instead focused on the sound of the snow crunching beneath his feet as they led him further into the dark street cloaked in a thick layer of snow.

The wizard knew if he spent another moment in that cursed place he would have lashed out and killed someone, so he had hastily thrown his coat and emerald scarf around himself before slamming the door shut behind him.

Two more years. He thought to himself. Then he would be out and would never be obligated to return again. Perhaps he would even burn the place to the ground if his plans worked out in his favour.

The air was crisp, and his breath materialized in front of him with each exhale. His eyes quickly scanned the narrow empty alley for a suitable quiet place where he could pass his time. There was nothing interesting, except for the tiny bookstore nestled in the corner of the street that emitted a warm, golden light through its window. Tom quickly decided it would do, and he strode towards the place with purpose. A small bell chimed as he entered the place, which he quickly realised was a bookstore with a cosy coffee shop tucked inside.

He inhaled the pleasant aroma of freshly brewed coffee mixed with the scent of weathered books. Before he could lose himself entirely in the intoxicating symphony of scents, a sudden, loud thud echoed from behind the counter, jolting him from his reverie.

"Blimey!" someone cursed, their voice slicing through the tranquillity. Tom found himself rooted to the spot, curiosity piqued, as a figure suddenly emerged from underneath the counter.

It was a girl. Unabashedly, his eyes traced the lines of her features, noting the delicate curve of her jaw and the cascade of hair that framed her face. He assumed she was around his age if not younger and he stared at the girl as she rubbed her head, wincing when she hit a particularly soft spot before she realised that she was not alone in the shop. She froze like a deer caught in the headlights and he watched as her cheeks flushed a deep shade of red.

Tom, still an observer, saw more than just the blush; he discerned the subtleties of her response, the way her eyes momentarily widened before seeking refuge elsewhere, fingers fidgeting with the edges of her knitted cardigan.

She attempted to compose herself and met his eyes. "Oh! Sorry, sir. How may I assist you?" She asked cheerfully, resisting the urge to duck her head down to avoid his intense stare.

He crossed the small distance to the counter. "I'd like a coffee. Black."

"No sugar?" she inquired, to which Tom raised a single brow. Her blush deepened as she quickly averted her eyes from his face.

"Right, of course. You may take a seat while I prepare this for you." With a nod, she hurried to fulfil his request, leaving Tom alone with the lingering scent of coffee and old books that were now intertwined with a pleasant smell of vanilla and sweet—

It was her perfume, he realised with a start.

He hastily removed his coat and scarf before plopping down on the nearest armchair. His gaze remained fixed on the girl, absorbed in the rhythm of her practised motions as she prepared his drink, her movements seemingly both effortless and comforting. There was an almost lazy grace to her actions and he continued to watch as she sang under her breath so softly if he had not been staring so intensely, he would not have picked up on it.

He wondered how he had never noticed this place before. He had been passing through this little street for as long as he could remember but for some reason, he had only stumbled upon it today. His sharp eyes darted around, instinctively searching for traces of magic, half-expecting the discovery of a hidden passage to the wizarding world but he quickly realised the place was undeniably, disappointingly muggle.

Muggle.

He tore his gaze away from the girl at the mental reminder of what she was. He fished out a book from his bag and opened it to occupy his mind.

The subtle shuffle of her approaching steps drew his attention back to the present, and he met her gaze as she placed the steaming cup of coffee before him. A sugar packet sat innocently beside it. His eyes lingered on the packet for a moment before lifting coldly to meet hers.

She, however, was undeterred by the intensity of his glare. “In case you change your mind.” She smiled at him softly before turning on her heel and walking back.

His gaze lingered on her retreating figure, and then, almost involuntarily, it dropped to the innocuous sugar packet.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

Tom did not know why he had returned. Truthfully, he had not even noticed his feet had led him here until he was in front of the familiar wooden door that led into the coffee shop. Perhaps he had thought more than he should’ve about the disgustingly soft smile of that girl for the last five months. She was an insolent muggle, yet here he was, walking into the place as if he had never left.

The seasons had blurred since he had last been here. Winter had long surrendered to the warmth of summer. He had to spend at least a month in the orphanage, and he was hoping Malfoy would invite him over for the rest of the summer.

The place was just as he remembered it. The only difference was the lack of Christmas decorations. He faltered only slightly when he took notice of the girl behind the counter, already staring at him. She had not changed much. Her face was the same, less pale perhaps, but the same, nonetheless. The oversized knitted sweater that once enveloped her had been replaced by a little white sundress, and his gaze involuntarily lingered on the exposed smooth skin.

“Welcome back!” She greeted him cheerfully, and he was not surprised she remembered him. “What can I get you?”

“Black coffee,” he replied curtly

She nodded as if she was expecting it. "Coming right up." Gently shutting her book, she gracefully moved towards the coffee machine. Tom's eyes couldn't help but trail to the volume she had been reading, and to his pleasant surprise, it was Dostoyevsky. He had not pegged her as someone who would enjoy Russian literature, with its weighty and morally morbid themes. In his mind, she seemed more likely to be a Jane Austen enthusiast, with her intricately written romances and flowery prose.

“It’s 'Crime and Punishment'." He suddenly heard her soft voice declare, and he looked away from the book to give his attention to the girl. Then feeling as if she had said something silly, she blushed and looked away quickly. "Though I'm sure you figured that. I just wondered why you look so surprised."

He replied before he could tell himself not to. "I did not imagine you as someone who would enjoy this."

Emboldened at his words, she turned to face him, a hand casually resting on her hip as she sported a cheeky smile. "Am I to presume you imagine me often?"

His sharp inhale was audible as he absorbed the unexpected shift in her demeanour. He had not expected this shy, timid girl to tease him so boldly. She was a little vixen.

But he did not give her the satisfaction of getting a reaction out of him. A lazy raise of his brow was the extent of his acknowledgement before his gaze wandered towards the rows of bookshelves, feigning indifference. "Do you have another copy? Perhaps I shall like to reread this evening."

She frowned, walking over towards the table he had occupied last time to set his coffee down. He grimly took notice of the sugar packet placed near it. "I'm afraid not. But you can have mine."

"No, that is quite alri—" He began to decline but she had already crossed the small distance between them and was holding out the thick book. He hesitated for a moment before his fingers closed around the object, careful to avoid touching hers.

The girl smiled and walked away before he could even say thanks. Not like he was going to.

Settling back into the soft armchair, he opened the book only to freeze at the sight of a name scribbled on the front page and he knew it belonged to her. The wizard rolled the name around in his mind and determined that it suited her. He stared at her name for a minute longer before turning the page and delving into the content of the book.

He had been so immersed in the story that he had not noticed how the time had passed. The gradual hush of the coffee shop's ambient sounds finally penetrated his concentration, and he distinctly heard the girl approaching him.

"I'm sorry to disturb you but we're closing in five minutes." She looked at the book in his hands. "You may return it once you're done."

He hummed and looked down at where he had stopped.

"We sometimes encounter people, even perfect strangers, who begin to interest us at first sight, somehow suddenly, all at once, before a word has been spoken."

He wondered if the universe was trying to tell him something.

Tom found himself caught in the silent narrative of this stranger's presence.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

He returned the next day.

She looked up to see him enter, the sleeves of his button-up shirt rolled up.

Tom placed the book on the counter.

"You finished it in one day?"

He shrugged. "I'm a fast reader."

She gave him a small smile, turning to make his black coffee before he could ask for it. "Every time I reread it it takes me a few days." She paused for a moment, turning to look at him over her shoulder. "The usual?"

He nodded. "The usual." He debated whether or not to voice his next question, and decided one conversation with the girl would not hurt.

"Why do you read it so often?"

"Each time I find new details that make Raskolnikov's character more complex. Each time I discover these small little things I missed the last time I read it becomes so much better. Plus I enjoy his moral dilemma."

He hummed, his curiosity piqued. He took his usual seat and watched as she brought his coffee and set it down in front of him. "Enlighten me." He gestured towards the seat in front of him. She hesitated only for a second before taking a seat.

"Raskolnikov is obviously a complex character. His actions are driven by a desire for power and superiority, a belief that he is exempt from conventional morality. However, one could argue that his internal struggles and eventual remorse suggest a more nuanced exploration of morality."

Tom furrowed his brows. "I see him as a product of his environment, a desperate man driven to extremes by the harsh circumstances he faced. His morality shifts to the other side of the spectrum."

She cocked her head to the side, and he could see her getting slightly frustrated. "But morality is not just a spectrum; it's a complex interplay of values, societal norms, and personal convictions. Raskolnikov's guilt stems from the clash between his actions and the intrinsic moral compass within him. It's the consequence of recognizing the weight of one's choices."

He scoffed before he could stop himself. "Morality is subjective. What is right for one may not be right for another. Raskolnikov was weak and he was an idiot. Guilt is a useless emotion and it is for the weak."

Her expression remained unwavering. "But perhaps it's that recognition of guilt that separates the morally discerning from those who lack empathy. The fact that you can't comprehend his guilt doesn't make it foolish. It makes it human."

Tom's eyes narrowed a glint of impatience in his gaze. "Human or not, guilt is a hindrance. It's a sentiment for those too feeble to rise above their actions. If I were to make a difficult choice, I would do it without hesitation, without remorse."

He only realised the slip of his tongue after the words left his mouth. He stilled, gauging her reaction yet her response was measured but firm. "Raskolnikov's guilt is a testament to his humanity, his ability to grapple with the consequences of his choices. It's what sets him apart from those who operate without remorse."

"But—"

"So what you're saying is you would kill and feel no remorse?" She cut him off.

Yes.

"You do not understand." He did not intend his tone to be so harsh, yet the words left his mouth coldly. She visibly withdrew and nodded stiffly. "Right. Enjoy your coffee."

He opened his mouth to say something but realised for the first time in his life he did not know what to say.

He was left staring at the cursed sugar packet she had left near his coffee again.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

He did not return the next day. Nor the day after. Or after.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

Two weeks passed with no sign of him.

And then she saw him step into the coffee shop. He walked in with determination. He walked up to the counter, meeting her gaze with an intensity that mirrored the unspoken tension between them. "I'd like a black coffee," he said, his tone even, though a hint of something lingered beneath the surface.

She nodded, her expression composed but guarded. As she prepared the coffee, the air seemed charged with unspoken words. Her usual cheerful smile was notably absent. The absence struck him, and he realised he had enjoyed her smiles.

When she placed the coffee in front of him, there was a palpable pause. He glanced at the sugar packet, a subtle acknowledgement of the lingering disagreement. Without a word, he took it, his eyes meeting hers briefly before he poured the sugar into his coffee.

She looked at him, her gaze unwavering, before a small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

He returned the next day. And the day after that. And for the rest of summer.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

The next time he stepped into the familiar place, winter had covered the city with a snowy blanket once again. It had been a year since he first discovered this little place. And he had not seen his little waiter since he left for Hogwarts in September.

When he walked in, her eyes lit up visibly. "Hi!" She waved at him with a bright grin.

"Hello." He greeted as he unwrapped his scarf and settled in his usual seat. In a matter of minutes, she was bringing him his usual order. She was back to wearing her warm knitted sweaters. "How did you enjoy the book?"

"Oscar Wilde never disappoints," he said. She hummed in agreement, pleased at his words. He watched as her hands dropped to fidget with the bottom of her sweater. "You wish to ask me something." He stated. "Ask."

"Do you study in a boarding school?"

Tom hesitated only for a moment before replying. "Yes."

"Oh. Well, that explains the months of not showing up."

"Were you expecting me?" He teased her with an amused smirk, taking delight in the way her cheeks reddened.

"I was just wondering that is all," she admitted, a hint of curiosity peeking through. Tom observed her, noting the return of the timid, shy girl from their first encounter. It amused him how a few teasing remarks could momentarily whisk away her fiery boldness. He couldn't help but wonder what it would take to awaken it once again.

"And do you wonder about me often, little vixen?" he added, a playful glint in his eyes.

She blushed harder at the nickname but then as if a thought had struck her, she straightened and Tom watched as she visibly mustered up her courage. "I actually was wondering your name."

He bristled, but she must have not noticed because she continued. "I suppose I have not given you mine either." She mused out loud and announced her name to him. "But I thought it bizarre that considering all the time we've talked we never got around to that. Friends who do not each other's names." The girl laughed at the last notion and only then she realised that Tom had remained unnervingly quiet throughout the exchange. She raised her eyes from the frayed edges of her sweater, and the sight almost made her take a step back. His eyes had darkened, and she could have sworn she saw them flash red. There was no warmth, no familiarity in his gaze.

"Are you alright?"

Suddenly, he rose from his seat, an ominous tension permeating the air as he advanced towards her with every word. "We are not friends. You dare to think I would be friends with the likes of you?" His words were sharper than the keenest of blades, cutting into her with merciless precision. "Foolish, little girl," He spat out before grabbing his things and storming out of the place. As the door closed behind him, the little coffee shop seemed to exhale, the echoes of his harsh words lingering in the hushed aftermath.

She stood frozen in her place, helpless against the storm of emotions and the tears that began to veil her vision.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

Tom fumed for months after their last encounter. How dare the ignorant muggle insinuate that they were friends? He scarcely considered his Knights of Walpurgis as his friends, and she thought she would just appoint herself the title? Who did she think she was?

"Mate, you alright? You've been unresponsive for a while." Malfoy nudged him slightly, attempting to draw his attention back to the present.

Tom made a noise of acknowledgement before mentally shaking the image of his little waiter— no, not his, he berated himself— from his mind.

But no matter how he tried, he could not. He could not just banish her from his thoughts. He knew a part of him, a rather embarrassingly large part of him enjoyed her company, her passion, her conversations— just her.

And there, tucked away in the recesses of his trunk, lay her damned book— a taunting reminder of her. The temptation to burn it, to obliterate any remnants of her from his life, danced on the edge of his thoughts. He had shoved away, out of sight if only just to save himself the fury, the anger, (the longing).

He wondered if she was going through the same turmoil as him. He hoped she was. She had no right to make him feel this way and get away with it unscathed.

But she was too enticing to give up. He did not know what it was about her. She was a muggle, an ordinary, plain girl working at a forgotten little cafe. Sure, she liked books, but so did a lot of other people. Yes, she was pretty, but so were a lot of other girls. But none could even come close to stirring his emotions as she did.

Perhaps it was the ease with which she conversed with him. Or the entirely too cheery smiles. Or her endearing knitted sweaters— though he secretly favoured the sundresses.

He, of course, knew what it was. He had tried to deny the idea to himself, but there was no escaping it. Tom had never been able to be unequivocally authentic with another individual before. From his early childhood, he refused to allow anyone close to him. He never lowered his walls and rejected anything that would yield a genuine connection. It was refreshing with her. He had no cause to uphold a curated facade.

Had she not been a muggle, he would entertain the thought of her bewitching him. He would have been convinced the girl put some spell on him or slipped a potion into his drink.

It was maddening.

She was maddening.

He sighed upon realising that he had spiralled again thinking of her. He needed to return the book, and maybe that would ease his mind. Perhaps once he was rid of her possession, she would not haunt him anymore. (Though he knew he was only trying to reassure himself with the last thought.)

As summer loomed around the corner, it felt both too distant and too imminent, mirroring the paradox of his tangled emotions.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

The sound of her laugh rang out before he could even close the door behind him. His head snapped up so fast it was a wonder he did not get whiplash. But there she was, his little waiter, chuckling delightfully as some boy spoke lowly from behind the counter. Chuckles escaped her lips, and she bit down on her lip in a futile attempt to stifle the laughter, her hands deftly at work preparing a drink. Despite her efforts, laughter bubbled forth once more, forcing her to set the cup down to avoid any potential spills.

An immediate surge of anger coursed through him. Who was this boy? What business did have with her? What right did he have to elicit such genuine laughter from her? (Most importantly, how dare she replace him?)

Tom swallowed the lump in his throat, attempting to gather himself into some semblance of a composed, unaffected man that he most definitely was not at that moment. With a loud, purposeful cough, he sought to catch her attention.

She spun around, the practised smile reserved for customers settling onto her face as she readied herself to serve him. However, the smile swiftly vanished the moment her doe-like eyes locked onto him. She looked like a deer caught in headlights as she stared at him, wide eyes roving over his face as if to confirm that he was really standing there, in front of her, and was not a figment of her imagination.

Because despite their last encounter, despite the anger, and the hurt she had felt, she kept hoping he would return. She kept imagining him standing there, with his ridiculously fancy scarf as he spewed out an apology. She had delved so deep into her fantasies involving him that now that he was actually there, she did not what to do or to say. Her tongue was tied, and her brain was fogged. What was she supposed to say?

It seemed he decided to grant her mercy and be the first to break the tense silence.

“Hello.”

“Hi.”

He shuffled closer, though his steps were unsure, unlike his usual confident strides that she was used to seeing. “I wished to return your book.” He declared yet made no move to reach into his bag for the said book. He allowed his eyes to drink in the sight of her, her eyes that always seemed to glisten, her hands that were always fidgeting, her little sundress that he was afraid would drive him to insanity, (and her lips that he wished he could press against his own just so he could find out what they felt like, tasted like.) He shoved the last one into a drawer in his mind and locked it away. He could not fantasise about her. She was a muggle. He could not stoop so low as to hold affections for a muggle girl.

“Did you enjoy it?” The girl asked tentatively as if afraid one wrong word would set him off, have him spitting more harsh words that would dig deep into her skin and remain there.

“As always.” He replied. Because every book she gave him held another meaning. She was a clever girl, choosing the ones that she knew would have him coming back with a strong debate prepared in his mind. They always seemed to stand on opposite sides of every argument that the books posed, ensuring that their discussion would get heated, exciting, and thrilling.

While Tom vehemently disagreed with her views, he found pleasure in the way her mind worked. He admired her quick-wittedness, her ability to counter every argument he posed. No one else had engaged him in such stimulating conversations. She was a breath of fresh air, a captivating force he wanted to inhale and never release. He yearned to suffocate in the essence of her being, to be consumed and to consume in return. He wanted to own her— that irrational desire to keep her for himself was always there in the deeper parts of his mind that he was scared to venture into.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” She responded but he could detect the subtle undercurrent of uncertainty in her voice.

He hesitated. “May I have one black coffee?” He was extending an olive branch, and while it was not an outright apology, coming from Tom, it was a whole declaration.

“It’s five minutes until closing time.”

She would not be swayed so easily then.

Fine. Tom thought. He would make her come to her senses.

The boy who he had forgotten was still there suddenly came to stand next to him. Tom eyed him with disdain, his features curling into an unimpressed sneer, raising a lazy brow.

“I’ll help her close up, mate. You can leave now.”

“Daniel, that is not necessary.” She muttered, glancing between the two men nervously. Daniel? Tom clenched his jaw, enraged. In his absence, it seemed she had gotten on first-name basis with a boy. His mouth soured with the taste of betrayal at her blatant ignorance. How could she discard him so easily? Had she not suffered all these months at the mere thought of him? Had he been alone in his suffering?

“No,” Tom stated flatly. “You will leave.” He told the boy then turned to face his waiter. “We will talk.”

“Tom, I do not think—”

He cut her off with a hiss. “It was not a request.”

Daniel seemed wholly displeased. He opened his mouth to argue, but his girl beat him to it. “It’s okay, Daniel. I will see you some other time.”

“Whatever he has to tell you, surely he can say in front of me.”

She shook her head gently, trying to dissuade him. “It’s a matter between him and I. I would rather talk privately.”

Tom looked smug as he faced Daniel again, struggling to contain his smirk. He could see the indignation clear on the boy’s face as his eyes flickered dubiously between her and Tom. He knew the wizard was no ordinary acquaintance of her, he could feel the palpable tension in the air like a wolf.

Tom, of course, wished to push his buttons further, just to have the last word. “You heard her. Leave.”

Daniel scoffed. “I will see you tomorrow then.” He muttered and with one last long look, he squared his shoulders and left the café with as much dignity as his wounded pride could muster.

As the door shut with a final thud, they were left in pregnant silence, both unsure of the dynamics at play between them. The air in the café hung heavy with unspoken tension as if the silence itself had taken on a weight, pressing down on them both. The ticking of the clock on the wall seemed louder than usual, each second echoing in the quiet space.

She was the first to cave. "Well? You wished to talk." Gesturing towards him with a hand expectantly. "Talk."

Tom inhaled sharply, and for the first time in his life, he did not quite know what to say. How to proceed.

"Who is he?" The question tumbled from his lips before he could stop it.

She raised a brow. "Seriously? After how you walked out of here last time I would think your choice of words would be different."

"Different? I hardly think the question was unfair."

She huffed impatiently, discarding her apron as she turned from him to put everything away for the night. "Of course. How foolish of me to assume that you have no business inquiring about my life when we are not even friends." She chuckled bitterly. "You made the notion quite appalling if memory serves me right. You wish to know who is Daniel? For all you know, he could be my fiancee. Would it matter? No. Because you and I are hardly acquaintances."

An unfamiliar feeling began coiling in the pit of his stomach, and he suddenly felt sick. She briefly turned to fix him with a pointed glare and froze at the look on his face. The dancing flames of the candles seemed to mirror the flickering emotions in Tom's eyes—flames of irritation, discontent, and an unexpected pang of jealousy.

Tom could scarcely believe his fate. How was it that he— the most powerful wizard of his generation— had succumbed to the pathetic disease of— what was it? Desire? Lust? Infatuation? Such mundane urges were beneath him, he had no wish to pursue anyone or anything that was not remotely related to his quest for power. Yet there she was. In her infuriating fucking dress and those innocent eyes. Did she even know what sort of turmoil she had caused him?

All of a sudden he felt exhausted, defeated. His shoulders sunk visibly as he ran a hand through his hair. He would use a hundred of her sugar packets in his coffee if it meant she would just grace him with her bubbly smile again and just— just what? Leave him be? He did not want that. Treat him as if nothing had happened? Maybe. Release him from whatever enchantment she put him under? Yes.

"What do you want from me?" He asked at last, frustration clear in his voice.

She regarded him with disbelief as she rounded the counter to stand directly in front of him. "What do I want from you?" She repeated incredulously. "I want an apology! I want an explanation! I want—" she sighed, cutting herself off before she could finish the thought. "You cannot just show up here demanding things and ordering people around after how you treated me last time. If you wish to continue this conversation, you will apologise to me."

"You want me to say sorry?" He took a step towards her.

"Yes!"

"Fuck your apology."

Before she could register what was happening, Tom closed the minute distance between them and caved into his desire. He grabbed her face, fingers threading through her hair, and pressed his lips against hers. The kiss was not gentle; it was a collision of pent-up tension and bottled-up desires.

Tom's lips moved fervently against hers, pouring his frustration into the act. It was a silent declaration that transcended the boundaries of his complicated inner turmoil. Tom knew that. But he could not pull away from her— not after having tasted how her lips feel like.

Her hands, which had hovered hesitantly in the space between them, found their way to his shoulders, fingers gripping the fabric of his coat, pulling him closer.

She felt—tasted like God's favourite nectar, sweet and addictive and he knew he would never get enough of it. She might not have been a witch, but he was bewitched by her.

As they broke apart, breathless, the air between them hung heavy with the residue of their shared kiss. He dared not to ease his hold on her, only stared at her with darkened eyes, taking delight in the way her lips were bruised, and puffy, all because of him. But it was not enough. He needed to mark her for all to see.

He dove into the tender skin of her throat like a man starved, teeth sinking into her flesh with no warning, and a sick sort of satisfaction washed over him at the muffled moan that escaped her mouth. He sucked on the skin until he was sure there would be a purple mark blooming on the spot before running his tongue over the flesh to soothe the sting. He did not waste any second before moving to mark another spot.

"I do not even know your name." She managed to choke out in between her whimpers, hands moving of their own accord to tangle in his hair, and a particular tug had him growling deep in his throat.

"Tom." He whispered, pulling away from her neck only to return his lips to hers. "Say it. Say my name." He murmured in between the kisses, pushing her back until her back was pressed against the counter. He easily picked her up to place her on the surface, his fingers trailing along her thighs to her knees to nudge them apart so he could stand in between them.

"Tom." She breathed out in a daze, and he smirked in delight.

She was his. He had already branded her, and he would do much more to ensure she knew it was him she belonged to.

He leaned to brush his lips against the shell of her ear. "I hope you know there is no going back from this. From me." He whispered, fingers slipping under the strap of her dress and dragging it down her shoulder slowly. "You are my dirty little secret now. Mine."

She shuddered under the weight of his words but he was already snaking his hand around her throat as his lips found home on her own once again.

No going back.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

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#tom riddle #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle one shot #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle x y/n #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle fanfic #tom riddle fic #tom riddle x muggle!reader #tom riddle x fem!reader #tom riddle x you

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ma1dita · 4 months

Text

a wish your heart makes

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 1.4k

summary: (established relationship) The one where you share dreams, burn cookies, and it still reminds him of home. You try to do something nice for your boyfriend and everything goes wrong, or so you think. Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader

a/n: I thought about May Castellan, alone in her kitchen, baking cookies and making sandwiches for a son who would never come ho—OH FUCK OFF, UNCLE RICK. sidenote this haunted me.

(posted 1/26/24 unbetad)

—

Luke’s dreams were always different from yours.

Both when he’s awake and holding your hand up until sleep finally rips him away from your earthly embrace, he’s always been certain of who he was and what he wants to achieve. To be a hero providing salvation for the needy, to be a half-blood son worth the love of a god, and to be a fierce soldier, leading his troop into battle for glory. These are the thoughts he routinely pounds into his brain, so much so that anyone who knows him knows of his aspirations.

You don’t think you’ve ever met anyone so insistent on wanting to be remembered. Luke wants to leave a legacy worth dying for, worth talking about for millenia to come. And your boy persists, despite the trials of life, the ignorance of his father, and the strings of the Fates.

Your dreams, however, were always much simpler.

Cuddled under your covers and brushing your lips against Luke’s forehead to quell the growing unease that occupies his brain, you whisper what you deeply wish for.

“We’re getting old,” you mumble, and the breath of his laugh tickles your ear. He lazily runs his nose against the slope of your collarbone, sighing when he finally hears the steady beat of your chest, “We’ve definitely surpassed the average life expectancy of a typical demigod. Look at us…” he jests.

Your breath jumps in amusement as you feel his lips against your sternum, and then your boyfriend is smiling against your heart, using you for comfort as you both pass the time waiting for Hypnos to come calling.

“In a year, we’ll be nineteen…And I know you never wanted to stay here forever, so… What’s next?”

You hold in a bated breath, always unsure of where to place yourself in rank of his priorities. Who were you if not his biggest supporter?

Luke contemplates for a moment in the silence of your bedroom. It’s much easier to think and have more adult… conversations… without the many meddling children of cabin 11 always asking for one more lullaby, one more glass of water, and one more tuck-in goodnight. Here in the privacy of your room, he gets to be a boy void of his responsibilities besides hiding under his girlfriend’s duvet, giving her another shirt of his to wear, and kissing her until Apollo’s rays of light gently help you wake.

“You tell me, trouble. What does the future have in store for us?”

Us.

He’s sweet to indulge in your fantasies like this, and you stroke your fingers through his curls as you speak, ‘I think it’d be nice to go to college. Made it this far, so maybe being normal won’t be so hard…”

A soft noise leaves his throat, urging you to continue as you bite your lip and smile.

“Maybe someday, we could get a house. One on top of a hill. I don’t need much, something like the Big House, but one we can call home.”

You can feel the teeth of his sleepy grin against your skin as he whispers the next words into your heart.

“We could do that. House with big bay windows, and the smell of my mom’s chocolate chip cookies in the air. Sounds nice, baby.”

And it does.

Luke’s eyes flutter shut shortly after, but your mind is awake with how to make the dream you now share a reality. Perhaps you couldn’t give him glory, or pray hard enough to Hermes so that he’d talk to his son, but you reckon that chocolate chip cookies would be easy enough.

—

At least, it was supposed to be—until you set off the smoke alarm again.

“Oh for fuck’s sake!”

Clouds of grey are billowing from the communal kitchen oven after your multiple attempts of trying to get this right. The dryads had both partially given up on the havoc you wrecked upon their workspace as well as your increasing frustration towards them. It wasn’t their fault, you knew that—but as a perfectionist who followed the recipe to a t, how was it possible that everything was still going wrong? The first batch, you got too excited and mixed all the ingredients together, making them lumpy and inconsistent. The second batch was over-creamed, and you had to scrape them off the tray, and with this one… well you had the oven setting on a bit too high.

You sigh deeply, pressing the palms of your hands into your eyes as you try to will away the mania creeping up your neck. Being the daughter of the god of insanity was hard, having to consistently control your emotions for the sake of others. Taking a shaky breath, you stare blankly at the darkened cookies, close to being burned to a crisp. The jingle of the windchime against the door rings across the room and you barely hear it until you feel Luke’s hands skate past your waist to go open a window.

“What’d you get into now, trouble? Been looking for you,” he says, coughing lightly from the smoke.

You groan, trying to cover the mess behind you on the counter and accidentally catching your arm on the hot tray, making you flinch.

“Ow! Ugh, babe, you’re not supposed to be here yet! I thought you were still sparring…”

Your boyfriend approaches you, squeezing your arm to examine if you’ve gotten hurt and tugging you towards him.

“That was an hour ago—how long have you been here, baby?” Luke pulls you into his arms, placing a kiss on your warm wrist, instantly soothing your anxiety until you see his eyes meet your latest failure.

“You bake now?”

“Clearly not, Luke, I’m sorry…I tried but I kept getting it wrong and then I got mad at myself for fucking up something so…” your voice weakens, tears welling in your eyes again thinking you’ve disappointed him.

Luke steps away from you and towards the kitchen counter, warm cookies browned to a crisp. He reaches out to pick one up before you can stop him, crunching down on it, the bittersweet taste filling his mouth as he sniffs.

Just like his mother would make them, through her madness and all.

He’s transported back to a memory of a house with big bay windows, kind of like the one you two dreamt up last night, but he’s nine and sitting at the kitchen table drinking Kool-Aid while his mom makes peanut butter sandwiches. May Castellan forgets the cookies in the oven again, and for a moment, Luke forgets that the last time he saw his mother was a lifetime ago.

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until he feels your fingertips brushing away the saltwater from his cheeks.

“Didn’t mean to make you cry, angelface, I’m sorry…” you mumble, but stop speaking when you see him take another bite.

“They’re great.”

“What?”

He chomps on another singed cookie, his lips quirking into a soft smile. Luke’s not going to let you throw the rest of this batch out. Chuckling weakly, he lifts you onto the kitchen counter as he slots himself between your legs, rough hands patting your thighs.

“Well, they’re not great. But they’re perfect. Just the way I remember them,” he smiles, kissing the furrow in your brow. You don’t bother trying to comprehend his statement, happy that you didn’t mess up a memory he holds dear.

Luke wonders if maybe he’s been blessed by his father after all, to have such extreme luck to exist at the same time as you. He doesn’t answer to the gods, to fate, but he does answer when you call his name, and settles into your arms. Love is an action after all, uncontained by just words, and he knows you tried your best, which makes it more than enough.

“She would’ve loved you, I’m sure of it,” he says rubbing his nose against yours before you can interject again, “I love you, so I know she would’ve too.”

Luke presses a tender kiss against the palm that caresses his jaw, before meeting you in the middle and finding your lips. It’s a dance you two have memorized, sweet and breathless as you meld both of your grins together. To him, you taste like chocolate chips and feel like home.

“I love you too, angelface. Almost burned the kitchen down for you,” your chuckle is cut off when he goes to press against your pout again hungrily, tracing patterns against the soft skin of your thighs as he just eats you up. The sound of your moans escapes between kisses as you wind your legs around his waist and it dampens the sound of the kitchen timer when it goes off.

(You forcibly have to detach from Luke’s embrace, much to his displeasure so that you don’t burn the next batch too.)

—

"Your name is humming inside my chest. I think this is what it means to love. I think this is what it means to be living." -Emma Bleker

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#luke castellan x dionysus!reader #luke castellan x reader fanfic #luke castellan x reader #pjo x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan fluff #made by ma1dita ♥︎#trouble!verse #thank you for reading my love ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

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sehnsuchts-trunken · 2 years

Note

MORE GREY REQUESTS COMING IN!!!! 🥸 asking for grey with electricity!fairy reader and a first kiss.

OMG YES. GO ON PEOPLE HIT ME WITH ALL THE GREY REQUESTS. I kinda forgot this was supposed to be electricity fairy tho so um, sorry lmao

again, same disclaimer as always. haven't finished fate yet, might not be accurate, blah blah.

ALSO IM SERIOUS FUCKING UPLOAD MORE GIFS I AM BEGGING I AM SOBBING PRAYING

You laughed as you watched him swim, paddling on his back like a starfish. Grey had been training and then you had joined, sitting down on the riverbank and not making a sound, and when he'd spotted you, he had begun doing all these ridiculous things until your stomach had started hurting and you'd had to bend over to catch your breath.

You were wiping at your eyes when you eventually heard him wade out, straightening your back and throwing his towel at him, watching him catch it with ease. He was grinning at you, that lovely, beautiful grin of his, and had you not already been doing so you were sure you would have too.

"You okay?", he asked, shaking his hair and letting the water drops fly everywhere. You heaved yourself up from the ground.

"More than just okay", you smiled, taking the few steps towards him and grabbing the towel out of his hands again, leaving him with his mouth hanging open as you danced away, waving it through the air and sticking your tongue out at him.

He shook his head and laughed.

"You're unbelievable."

You took a step back and gasped theatrically, holding the towel above your head and raising your eyebrows.

"What? You want this? This?", you asked, pausing for a second.

"Come and get it."

And then you ran.

The forest was dry - it hadn't rained in days and the ground was perfect to run on. But you weren't as athletic as he was. He was fast, swift. And you heard his steps way too quickly way too close behind you.

Of course you hadn't started running thinking he would not catch up with you. But you had indeed believed he'd take more than two seconds to wrap his arms around your side, catching you and holding you in place as you laughed, laughed and laughed and laughed, and turned around to look at him, making him grab your waist instead, and laughed some more.

"Here", you said with a giggle, dropping your head against his chest and throwing the towel over his shoulder.

When you had finally calmed down, you exhaled deeply and looked up at him, the last chuckle dying on your lips. He was already watching you.

Your cheeks heated up all by themselves, but your lips twitched upwards regardless.

"You look adorable", you muttered, running one of your hands through his wet hair.

"I do?", he asked.

"Yup", you breathed, finally catching his lips in a kiss. You'd been waiting for too long to do that anyway.

#grey x reader #grey ftws #grey winx #grey fate #grey #fate winx saga #winx #fate series #x reader #fate #ftws

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kitkatscabinet · 9 months

Text

Always been you

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x f! childhood friend reader

Summary: From the moment you first smiled at him as children Simon knew it would always be you.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: some nsfw content so minors keep scrolling

It starts like this, he’s 9 years old feet listlessly guiding himself to the rundown park desperate to be somewhere, anywhere that wasn’t the oppressive confines of home. The weather, as was typical of Manchester, wasn’t exactly cooperating. A dreary grey drizzle that served to keep most of the general populace indoors. Few parents were willing to stand outside and supervise their rowdy children.

That’s not to say the area was completely devoid of activity and for a while Simon was content to sit idly on the swing set and people watch. Trying desperately to ignore the clench in his chest and the sting of tears in the corner of his eyes as he watched the loving interactions between child and parent. Bitterness and wanting in equal parts threatened to consume him.

A voice from the side quickly pulls him from the harrowing thoughts, though he quickly thinks maybe they’d be easier to deal with. It’s a boy, around his age, maybe a little older and he’s boring like Simon’s deeply offended him.

“Get off the swing, I want a turn.” The demand leaves Simon more than a little flabbergasted. Apparently, he takes too long to not follow the sudden command as the boy's face twists in even more displeasure.

“I said, move!” He’s taller, and maybe it's because Simon had already been scared by Tommy that morning but he freezes.

Or maybe it’s just because he’s pathetic, his father’s voice whispers traitorously in his mind.

Thankfully, the thought doesn’t get to stick around for long as a new voice enters the fray. “Hey! Fuck off!” Both boys whirl around with wide eyes at the newcomer, neither sure how to respond to the loudly swearing girl. However, when the boy responds with what Simon assumes to be your name it becomes clear that you already know each other.

“I don’t have to listen a girl.” That proves to be exactly the wrong thing to say, Righteous indignation lights up your face and before Simon can even blink the would-be bully is on the ground, clutching his nose with a cry. You’d punched him, hard enough that Simon could see the blood spilling out from over the crying boy’s hands and down his chin. Not wanting to suffer the same fate, Simon had let you pull on his hand, keeping it in a deceptively strong grip as you marched the two of them away. When you make it far enough from the crime scene you turn to him with a toothy grin, introducing yourself and promptly claiming the title of his new best friend.

It’s not quite love at first sight, but years down the line Simon will recognise it as something close.

The fourth time you meet at the park, not even two weeks from the initial greeting, you ask after his parents. It wasn’t unusual that Simon didn’t talk much, content to listen to you chatter away but you must have noticed something different in that instance of silence. You were alarmingly perceptive like that when it came to him, your eyes feeling as if they were staring directly into his soul, seeing all the shattered hurt he tried to hide. Nodding to yourself you grabbed his hand, an occurrence that he hadn’t quite gotten used to yet - your gentle touch, and tugged him along. You walk him all the way to your house, open the door with an excited bang and march straight up to your parents.

“This is my best friend, Simon, he’s gonna sleep over tonight!” Your parents are rightfully not amused but their protests quickly die down. He has no idea what convinced them in the end, but from then on he’d somehow become a permanent fixture in your home. Dinners became a regular thing which often became sleepovers as you attempted to keep him out of the house that had caused him so much fear and pain. It was about as subtle as a brick to the face but Simon never complained, especially if it meant you’d pull him into your bed as often as possible to sleep.

He hadn’t minded the first two ‘boyfriends’, they had been nothing serious, silly childhood infatuations. Because at the end of the day, it was always him that you returned to. Crawling through his window late at night and pouting that you couldn’t sleep without your favourite pillow, because somehow, despite his protests you always wrestled him into being the little spoon.

No, it isn’t until he’s 17 and more than aware of how painfully in love with you he is that the boyfriends finally become a problem. Simon wasn’t a violent person, didn’t want to be, not like his father was. But as he holds you in his arms after you’d climbed through the window in tears, cuddling up to him under the blanket covering his bed that he swears for the first time in his life he could kill somebody. He offers too, you simply laugh and tell him he’s the best friend you could ever have. You think he’s joking, Simon’s not entirely sure he is.

You’re his first kiss, something that had only occurred at your aghast knowledge that he’d never kissed anyone at all. He’s not sure why you’re surprised, you’re the only person he ever lets near him let alone touch him. It’s simultaneously the best and worst moment of his life because now he actually knows what it feels like to kiss you. Knows that nobody will ever live up to you.

It’s then he realises that you’re his first everything really, first friend, first crush, first and only love.

He reads some of your smutty books, the ones you giggle at, a secret he’ll take to the grave, just to learn what you like. It comes about after a drunken confession on your part, liquor loosening your lips just a tad too much as you detail how much your last boyfriend sucked in bed. It’s a mistake, because now every time he looks at you he can’t help but imagine the way you’d taste. How you’d sound begging so prettily for him.

His decision to join the military was not made lightly, you’d gotten accepted into some fancy university and it’s then Simon starts to realise just how much his entire life has started to revolve around you. As much as he wants to follow, he knows that life isn’t for him, and he knows how much you want him to flourish in whatever path he chooses.

Training isn’t easy, but it’s far from the hardest thing he’d ever done. That title was reserved for telling you about his chosen career path.

“Promise me you’ll always come back home to me” you demand, parting just slightly from your hug to look into his eyes. Simon knows he shouldn’t, after all there’s never any guarantee that he will, but as has been the case since you were both 12 he can’t bare to say no to you.

“I promise love” it’s barely a whisper but you still hear it, your fingers clutching at the back of his shirt starting to shake a little.

He wants to kiss you, he always does, but standing before him now, eyes glassy from the tears you’re trying to hold back, Simon swears you’ve never looked more ethereal. As much as he wants to lean down and finally taste your lips he doesn’t, it wouldn’t be fair. Not to you or to him, so instead he presses a soft kiss to your hairline, keeping you held tightly against him.

You send him more care packages than he can count, photos, letters and little trinkets he kept tucked safely away in his bunk or on his person when he could get away with it. He gets teased for it but Simon couldn’t give less of a fuck about their poorly hidden jealousy, not when you cared for him so deeply. Not when he gets to fall asleep with your words in his head and faint scent rubbing off on him.

He’d thought that perhaps the distance would do him some good, would finally douse the blazing flames of his love for you. He really should have known better because as the day's drone on you start to consume his every thought both waking and asleep. His life becomes a series of training and missions that only serve as a way to pass the time until he gets to see you again. Because no matter how much blood stains his hands he knows you’ll always be there to wash it away. He’s aware how selfish it is, to place the brunt of his longing and emotional baggage that only continues to grow in your careful hands, but Simon’s never claimed to be a good man.

Some of the darkness slips out one night, after his brother's wedding, after the revelry had died down and it was just the two of you lying on the grass and looking up at the stars at your insistence. He’ll forever blame it on the alcohol, descriptions of the violence he’d tried so desperately to keep from you pouring from his lips in confession. He can’t bear to look at you, heart roaring in his ears as he waits for the moment you’ll run, the moment you’ll finally realise what a monster he is. That moment never comes, instead, you ensnare him in your protective grip, hands cradling him far more softly than he deserves. It’s that moment that finally cements the fact that you’re never leaving in his mind. You’re never leaving so it’s up to him to pull away before he tarnishes your light, but Simon is weak and so he stays.

It happens after his third tour, the one where he’d had too close a call, the one he’d thought for a few moments he wasn’t coming home from. In those moments he’d thought of you, of your smile and god he regretted. He regretted never telling you how he felt.

It feels like he’s barely off the plane, eyes searching desperately for you before he hears the shout of his name. He spins just in time for you to launch yourself at his chest, gripping desperately onto him. You’ve always tried to keep your affection for him private, knowing he wasn’t entirely comfortable with people staring. Neither of you cared in that moment though and Simon’s already dropped his bags, engulfing you in a near-crushing grip.

It’s an eternity before you pull away, but it’s still too soon. He briefly glimpses the tears in your eyes before he leans down and kisses you. Something in the back of his mind is screaming at him, but he doesn’t really care to listen. At first, you don’t respond and Simon finally panics as the consequences of his actions set in. You don’t give him the chance to run away though, hands grasping his face and keeping him in place.

When you pull away you don’t say anything, simply taking his hand in yours and tugging him out to your car. The drive to your apartment is silent, but not uncomfortable. It isn’t until you’ve pulled him into your bed, in a mirror image of your younger years that you finally break the silence.

“I never thought you felt the same.” The same? The implications of your words seared into the forefront of his mind.

“Silly girl, why would I ever even look at somebody else when you exist?” You let out an adorably embarrassed squawk at his words, lightly hitting him on the chest as you bury your burning face against his neck.“It’s always been you” he murmurs, the confession settling over you like a wave.

For a split second, he fears your relapse into silence means he’d pushed too far too fast. Years of pining bubbling up and over the surface at the slightest bit of reciprocation. You’re quick to shut down his internal spiral with another earth-shattering kiss, pulling away and resting your chin on his chest.

“Yeah, you’ve always been it for me too Si. From the moment I pulled you from that swing." It's a little embarrassing, how fast his heart races at the confession. Tears build in the corners of his eyes as he finally, finally lets himself fully succumb to your love. You're quick to wipe them away though, because you would always take care of your Simon.

#x reader #cod mw x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #cod ghost

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undiscovered-horizon · 7 months

Text

"Everywhere is good but home is..." - Mihawk x Reader

@thetempleofthemasaigoddess wondered why Mihawk doesn't quite get along with his mother-in-law and who am I to keep such secrets to myself?

SUMMARY: Mihawk is not exactly fond of his in-laws. Nevertheless, he compliantly tags along whenever you pay your parents a visit. If it makes you happy, he's willing to bite his tongue. For a day, at least.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 2.6k

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Imagine, if you will, an angry boar. A large, stout boar with birse as dark as the night sky. As boars do, it will gore with its tusks to let out the frustration and get rid of whatever it was that made the animal seethe. Now, if you take away its tusks, what can it do? Angrily dig for truffles?

Or maybe stand beside you, a scowl on his face and a begrudging “I am fine” every time you ask about the bitter expression?

Mihawk doesn’t like visiting your parents. It’s the sickeningly sweet familial atmosphere that suffocates him. Don’t misunderstand - he’s fond of the thought of having a family with you but the aura of your childhood home is a little too… overwhelming for him. A little too picture-perfect. But being the man he is, Mihawk has never outright talked about his dislike because he’s aware of how much that would hurt you. Still, you know your husband a little too well to disregard his sighs and frowns. This piece of secret knowledge always makes you love him more - he’s willing to suffer for a day or two just to make you happy. If it’s not love, what else could it be?

The farmhouse looks different than it did last year when you visited: the roof tiles have been changed, the outside of the building has been repainted and even some of the fence surrounding the land is new. Clearly, your parents have been busy with their retirement.

Despite the irate expression on his face, Mihawk silently overtakes you and opens the shabby wicket gate to let you enter first. He gives you a questioning look when you suddenly stop.

“It’s going to be fine, Mihawk,” you reassure him.

“So you’ve been saying, darling.”

Comforting warmth spreads inside his chest as you smile at him and kiss his cheek. He turns his head, hoping to catch your lips but you’re already on your way to the older man raking leaves in the distance. Mihawk clenches his jaw and lets out an exasperated sigh. With a loud bang, he closes the gate behind him. He follows you in slow steps, naively putting off the fateful moment of meeting your family.

Walking down the path leading to the farmhouse and the fields behind it, Mihawk looks around the desolate landscape. It’s quaint, he thinks to himself. Tall trees sway on the chilly, autumn wind. Right above their peaks, although far away, are mountains with their tops covered in snow. Uncut grass brushes against his clothes. A flock of cranes flies high in the sky, disappearing and reappearing as they fly through grey clouds. Their key is directed south, towards warmth that will shield them from winter snow. The area is a bit too colourful and bright for his liking but with a nice “please” from you, Mihawk could see himself settling down in a place like this.

Dracule just comes into earshot and has the displeasure of hearing your father yelling:

“Pumpkin!” The older man’s voice is filled with excitement. He lets go of the rake, letting it fall on the ground. Despite his age and clear exhaustion from the work, he wraps his arms around you and hugs you almost to death. “Honey, come out!” he shouts towards the farmhouse. “It’s Pumpkin!”

Mihawk almost can’t stop himself from rolling his eyes. You’re a grown woman, married at that, and they still call you by a nickname they had come up with while you were still in diapers. ‘When I asked where children came from, they told me that they found me between pumpkins in their field,’ you once explained to him.

The door to the building flies open. Soon enough, your mother is running to you. Her greying hair is braided into a plait. She’s wearing an apron with traditional patterns hand-stitched into it. Half of the motif had been done by a skilled hand, stitched with precision and perfection. The other part, however, is a lot more crooked and amateurish, probably done by a child’s hand. Your hand.

Tears glisten in your mother's eyes. Despite her older age, there’s vigour and youth inside those irises - a certain love for life that you’ve taken after her. She quickly wipes her hands on the apron and hugs you.

“Oh, Pumpkin!” A stray tear leaves her eye. “I haven’t seen you in ages! You could have said you’re visiting.”

“You’ve always loved surprises, mum.”

She lets go of you and redirects her attention to Mihawk. Her face lights up as though he’s her own son, beaming with love and pride. To his absolute horror, your mother puts her hands on the sides of his face. He almost pulls away to avoid the unwanted affections.

“Sweetie, you look handsome as ever!” she exclaims. Her expression falls as she looks him up and down. “But you’re a bit thin, aren’t you? And that open shirt, tsk. Winter is coming, sweetheart, you’ll catch pneumonia if you don’t cover up.”

“Delighted to see you again, ma’am,” Mihawk lies through his teeth. To some degree, you’re impressed with how honest he sounds.

"Oh, sweetheart, I told you to just call me mum!” She laughs. “We're family now."

You can see the relief in Mihawk’s eyes as your mother lets go of him. Some part of you wants to burst with laughter as you recall countless moments when you’re the one cradling his face and Dracule is more than overjoyed with the tender touch. It feels like there’s something beyond special about you, that he welcomes such intimate things. Although, truth be told, when it’s your hands on his face, you usually lean in to kiss him and that’s definitely not something he wants to think about while standing in front of your mother.

“He’s a grown man, honey.” Your father nags at his wife. He waves his hand in a dismissing manner. “Leave him be.” Mihawk’s terror returns when a heavy hand reaches for his shoulder. “Come, son, you’ll chop some wood for the night. I’m too old for this. The last time I tried chopping firewood, I got sciatica.”

“Pleased to help,” Dracule drones his words. He gives you a glance like a silent plead ‘Look what I do for you’. Then, he follows your father further into the garden.

You feel your mother put her arm around your shoulder. “Boys are off to have fun and we have a dinner to make.”

Something inside you stirs with excitement - cooking and baking used to be your bonding activities with your mum. Since you’ve married Mihawk, you’re not allowed to do any housework. Everything is taken care of by servants. You find that you’ve grown to miss the rhythm of mundane life, although it would be a lie if you said that you dislike the life you have with Mihawk. It’s just… different.

The sound of pots, pans and knives hitting the cutting boards is like a symphony to your ears. An aria to your childhood. If you closed your eyes, you could almost see the world as it used to be, your eyes right below the level of the countertops, always standing on a stool to help your mother.

But the thoughts of your younger years dissipate as you stare out of the kitchen window. You have the perfect view of your husband chopping firewood with your father raking leaves in the back. Mihawk’s skin glistens in the afternoon, autumn sun. There’s not a bead of sweat on his torso. He appears completely relaxed as he swings the axe with one hand. Some logs are already cracked or particularly dry and those he rips apart with his bare hands. Those same hands that tear pieces of wood into matches have caressed your skin with almost fearful softness; the arms that bring destruction have tirelessly shielded you from the dangers of the world.

Your dad looks over his shoulder at the pile of firewood with a nod of awe. If Mihawk keeps up his tempo, he’ll prepare enough fuel for the next week.

“You remind me of your dad and me when we were younger.” Your mother’s face shakes you awake from your thoughts. Suddenly remembering that you were supposed to be helping her, you look down at the awfully chopped carrots. At least you didn’t cut off your finger. “Always stealing glances as though we weren’t already married.”

A sigh of yearning leaves your lips. What did you do in your past life to deserve a man like him?

“Dad still looks at you in an uncomfortably intense way,” you answer, a smile on your lips.

Your mother’s laughter brightens up the small, crowded kitchen. It’s not hard to correctly guess what your dad saw in her that made him want to spend his life with that woman. “He does the same when you’re not looking,” she says while vaguely pointing at Mihawk.

Her words make you blush. A deep shade of red covers your cheeks, making your whole face hot to the touch. “What do you mean?”

She looks at you with sympathy. “I saw it the day you introduced him to us. And each time you come over, he seems to be a little worse in his affliction, staring at you like you’re the one who hung stars in the sky. It made your grandma remind her of grandad so much, that she cried at your wedding.”

Listening to her, your longing gaze returns to Mihawk who appears oblivious to your undivided interest in him. “Mum, does it ever get boring?” you ask without looking away. “The sense of calm when you’re around him. Like everything could be ruined but it’s fine because he’s there.”

“It’s the only thing in the world that never gets tiring.” A flustered, juvenile smile decorates her face. Even with wrinkles and greying hair, she looks barely older than you at the moment, reliving the flame of love inside her that has never dwindled. “Now, let’s finish with the sentiments and stuff the duck, eh?”

Mihawk is reaching for another log when something makes him momentarily freeze. There, in front of the stump he’s been chopping wood on, sits a dog. It’s clearly a mutt, each feature taken from a different breed. The fur is an amalgamation of markings in different colours: orange, grey, white and black. As the dog notices Mihawk’s interest, it gets up, restlessly stomping in place or rather hopping as the pet is missing one of its hind legs.

“Gulliver,” Dracule recalls the name of the mutt you’ve told him so much about. Your first and only friend growing up in the countryside.

The name is taken as an invite and so the dog places a drool-covered, chewed-out ball next to the piece of firewood. The pet sits again, tail wagging as fast as it can.

For a moment, Mihawk is torn. He wants the dog to leave him be but that would mean he has to put his hand on the slimy toy. Then again, the pet is sure to continue disturbing him now that he has acknowledged its existence.

Cringing at the wet and warm sensation of the ball, Dracule picks it up, only furthering Gulliver’s excitement.

"This means nothing," he drones his words and throws the toy so far it almost disappears from sight. The dog, overjoyed, runs after the ball.

Considering that your dad’s throw has gotten weaker with age, Mihawk might have dug his own grave with the distance he made the ball fly. Gulliver will probably want another run. Or ten.

For a moment, Mihawk goes back to the fantasy of settling down with you in a mountainous wonderland. Maybe you could have a dog too? Not a mutt but a hunting hound? They look very noble.

But he shakes those thoughts away and continues chopping wood.

The dinner went well. Homemade food, family you haven’t seen in a year, the cosy and sentimental atmosphere of your childhood home… And Mihawk didn’t look as miserable as he probably felt. Although you’re enjoying this little family reunion, you seize the opportunity for solitude when it arises:

Your parents go to the kitchen to put away the dirty dishes, plate the dessert and brew some tea. Tugging on Mihawk’s arm, you pull him outside the house.

The old flooring of the porch creaks under your weight. A bright, melodic tune is carried by the wind as it brushes against the chimes hanging under the roof. The sun has recently set and the sky is still in a lovely, indigo shade. Birds croak in the distance, announcing nightfall.

His warm hand rests on your lower back. The touch makes you momentarily take a deep, relaxing breath. Your thoughts become both orderly and fuzzy as though Mihawk’s presence turned all of your wandering, useless ideas into static you can easily ignore. How can a person have so much control over you?

Mihawk is towering over you. He tilts his head downwards to look at you. Something about his looming aura makes you feel not only protected but also well-cared-for, as though you could give yourself up to him completely and you’d still live like a queen in a castle.

“If you keep frowning, your face will stay like that,” you say to him.

Mihawk’s expression relaxes at the mere mention of his visibly bitter mood. Or maybe it softens because he’s looking at you. “I was under the impression that you’re rather fond of my face.”

“And you’d be correct. But I do have to say that seeing you tear wood apart was much better.”

You lean closer to him as you put your arms around his neck. He welcomes the gesture, allowing his hands to travel an inch or two downwards, a little too low for when one is in the vicinity of others. Especially someone’s parents.

“So my wife likes to see me do manual labour,” he states, his warm breath brushing against your cold cheeks. There’s no surprise in his voice and there shouldn’t be. He’s noticed the way you look at him when he wields a sword and Mihawk would be an awful liar if he said he doesn’t enjoy those glances.

“I like seeing you, full stop. Chopping wood is just a nice variation to the scenario. Strong arms and all that.”

The said arms pull you by your hips into a kiss. Although he’s spent only a day in this part of the region, he already smells like fresh mountain air and pine needles. Mihawk groans, feeling the curves of your body against his. He will never get enough of this. Enough of you.

“Tea is served!”

Your mother’s exclamation makes you pull away from Mihawk. He instinctively chases after your lips before letting out an annoyed sigh. A chuckle rumbles in your chest. Dracule rolls his eyes but lets you thread your fingers with his and pull him back inside the farmhouse. There, you interrupt an interesting conversation:

“Darling, when’s the cake tasting again?” your father asks while flipping through the calendar, a pencil in his hand.

“On the 25th, honey,” she answers. The dining room is immediately filled with the aroma of bergamot as your mother pours the tea. “At 6 in the afternoon.”

“Cake tasting?” you repeat in confusion. “What’s going on?”

“Our golden wedding, of course!” the older woman beams with joy. “We’ve yet to send out the invitations, though, so don’t tell anyone. Especially your aunt. Gods know she runs her mouth like it’s a marathon.”

As though you’re thinking the same thing, Mihawk and you glance at each other. The miserable, irate expression in his eyes elicits a burst of bright laughter from you. He just can’t catch a break, can he?

#mihawk fanfiction #mihawk #one piece mihawk #mihawk one piece #dracule mihawk #mihawk x reader #op mihawk #dracule mihawk fanfiction #dracule mihawk fanfic #dracule mihawk x reader #one piece #opla #one piece fanfiction #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece fanfic #one piece imagine #one piece live action #one piece netflix

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itneverendshere · 2 months

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erase all of my memories without you - rafe cameron.

part 2 of can't remember anything before you.

pairing: rafe cameron x thornton!reader; brother's best friend! trope or best friend's sister! trope lmao; fem!reader.

word count: a lot??

WARNINGS: boyfriend!rafe <3; rafe being the biggest lover boy; tooth-rotting fluff if im being honest; topper's a dick but just for a sec; rafe is down bad; so cute.

“rafe, i told you, no hickeys!”

“can you blame me?” he has that mischievous gleam in his eyes, like he's testing just how far he can push your boundaries. “you’re just so pretty, baby.”

you roll your eyes, trying to maintain a serious tone despite the playful grin pulling at your lips. “shut up.”

being with rafe cameron was not on your yearly plans, but every single day, you thank your lucky stars for finally doing something right. he's a total game-changer, your personal slice of heaven.

who would have thought the universe had that kind of surprise up its sleeve?

he leans in closer, breath warm against your ear, arms wrapped securely around your waist, and you feel a shiver run down your spine. "i should visit more often if that’s how you’re going to greet me each time.”

you can't help but lean back into his embrace, savoring every moment of closeness.

"you should." you reply, your voice barely above a whisper, your fingers gently tracing circles on his hand. “wouldn't mind that at all."

you’d been together ever since that fateful night in your garden, months ago.

sneaking around had its thrills, especially with your brother always lurking nearby, but nothing compared to the challenge of a long-distance relationship. late-night calls, stolen moments of intimacy over video chats, and endless messages are your lifelines.

so when rafe finally stepped through the door of your new york apartment last night, after weeks apart, it was no surprise that you couldn't help but pounce on him, eager to make up for lost time. his slutty grey sweatpants, his choice of comfortable for a flight, were imprinted into your brain.

“so, so pretty." he murmurs, lips brushing against your earlobe, “y'know i can't resist leaving my mark on you."

you playfully swat at him, a grin spreading across your face despite your half-hearted protest, “topper would kill you."

rafe snorts, the sound traveling through your body as he presses a kiss to your temple, “he can try.”

you can't help but feel a twinge of guilt at the thought of keeping your relationship with rafe under wraps. it’s not like you don’t want to make it official, god, you do. but you’ve spent the last four months having him all to yourself, you don’t want other people to butt in and ruin everything with their unsolicited opinions.

being with him feels right. he's your rock, your constant in a world that's always changing.

“can we go back to bed now?” rafe’s warm breath tickles your ear as he speaks, his voice laced with a hint of grogginess, sleep still clouding his brain, “it’s fucking freezing.”

you chuckle quietly at his sleepy request, the sound mixing with the gentle hum of the heater as it struggles to combat the winter chill.

“course." you murmur, unwrapping yourself from his arms to press a tender kiss to his cheek, "let's get you warmed up."

his fingers don’t let you move an inch away, circling your wrist to pull you closer against his chest again, big cheeky smile on his face as he looks down at you. “you gonna warm me up, peach?”

"i might." you reply with a sly smirk, trailing a finger down his shirtless chest. "but you might have to work for it a little."

rafe's eyes widen with mock surprise. "is that so?" he asks, his voice low and husky as he pulls you closer. “well, lucky for you, i’m up for a challenge."

you’d never felt butterflies in your tummy until you started dating this man. he has you wrapped around his fingers, and you don’t want out. it physically hurts you to even think about a time when you didn’t have rafe like this.

you can't imagine being anywhere else but here, wrapped in his embrace.

with a playful giggle, you give him a knowing look. "’m counting on it," you murmur, as you pull him closer. you stand on your barefoot tiptoes, arms lacing around his neck. “really missed you.”

rafe's arms tighten around you as he pulls you impossibly close, his warmth enveloping you like a cozy blanket. his gaze softens, filled with a tenderness that makes your heart flutter even faster.

“missed you too, more than you know." he murmurs, his breath mingling with yours as he leans in to press a docile kiss to your lips.

“always thinking about my girl.”

as his lips meet yours, a wave of warmth washes over you, melting away any lingering traces of cold or distance. fuck, you’re in love with him and if he keeps kissing you like this, you might confess earlier. you’re way in over your head.

you sigh contentedly against his lips, savoring the feeling of being so close to him after being apart for so long. his touch, his scent, his presence—all of it feels like home to you. breaking the kiss reluctantly, you rest your forehead against his.

“stop staring at me like that peach.” he scolds, but there’s no bite to his tone as his fingertips brush your cheek lightly. “gonna end up buying this fucking building if you keep that up.”

you smile again, that’s all you seem to do around him anyway, as his beautiful eyes sweep up from your lips to meet your own. “rafe cameron living in new york? i’d pay to see that.”

rafe chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest and sending pleasant vibrations through your body. his fingers trace lazy patterns along your cheek, his touch sweet and affectionate.

“you'd pay to see it, huh?" he teases, a playful glint in his face as he leans in closer to you, his breath warm against your skin. “’m that good of an investment?”

you can't help but laugh at his playful banter, shaking your head. you love that you get to see this side of him, how soft he is with you, only you.

“you’re alright cameron.”

"jus’ alright?" he feigns offense, his hand moving to rest over his heart in an exaggerated manner. "take it back.”

“nop.”

rafe lets out a dramatic sigh, pretending to be wounded. "no?”

you can't help but giggle at his theatrics, finding it endearing how he always manages to lighten the mood.

"you big baby." you tease, poking him playfully in the side.

“oh, i’ll show you big.”

before you can even wrap your brain around his innuendo, you’re being thrown over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. he does it so effortlessly you almost swoon.

you squeal in surprise, the sudden movement catching you off guard. "rafe, what the fuck?" you laugh, squirming slightly as he carries you effortlessly across the room. “what are you doing—hey!”

his palm smacks against one of your cheeks, covered by nothing except a pair of his ralph lauren boxers. “taking you to bed, where you belong.”

you play along, pretending to protest even as you secretly enjoy the attention.

"and what if i don't want to go to bed?" you retort, trying to sound defiant.

rafe stops in his tracks, his grip tightening around your legs. "oh, trust me, peach," he says, his tone turning serious for a moment, "you definitely want to go to bed."

“hmm, not sure.”

“it’s okay brat, you’ll be sure soon enough." he teases, deep voice making you want to do the most immoral things on every single surface of your apartment.

a repeat of last night.

you play along, feigning uncertainty as he deposits you gently onto the queen-sized bed, his stare burning with desire as he hovers over you, thick arms caging you in. one of your hands wraps around his bicep, nails grazing the skin as you glance up at him, head tilted to the side.

rafe’s eyes instantly move to your neck as your hair slips behind, tongue poking out to wet his lips, "i don't know, baby, might have to convince me."

he leans in closer, his breath warm against your skin. "consider it my pleasure." he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours in a tantalizingly gentle kiss.

you feel a shiver run down your back as rafe's lips meet yours, his kiss sending a surge of electricity through your body. you’ll never get used to this. his touch is both tender and assertive, his lips moving against yours with a practiced finesse that leaves you breathless.

it's like every nerve in your being wakes up, responding eagerly to his touch.

as he deepens the kiss, his hands roam over your body, tracing the curves of your waist and hips with a possessive urgency, with a sense of familiarity as if committing every curve to memory. his fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss even further, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips before delving into your mouth in a hungry, desperate kiss. you melt against him, surrendering.

you feel a surge of heat pooling in the pit of your stomach, your breath catching in your throat as he explores you with a hunger that leaves you trembling.

“better than alright?” he mumbles against your lips and you find yourself unable to resist the pull of his touch, arching against him in silent invitation. his lips trail a path of fire along your jawline and down your neck, leaving a trail of kisses in their wake, “lost your voice, huh?”

he’s so addicted to sucking harshly on your skin, nibbling it playfully to drag out and elicit the sweetest sounds from your mouth. a melodic moan escapes your parted lips.

“you’re such an asshole.”

“there she is.” rafe's husky chuckle fills the air, sending pleasant vibrations through your body as he continues to pepper kisses along your neck, each one igniting a fiery trail of craving in its wake. “’m your asshole though.”

“not if you keep teasing.”

his lips pause their trail, hovering just above your skin as he looks up at you, one of his brows raised, "teasing?”

before you can protest his lips are on yours again, hungry and demanding. his hands roam over your body with a newfound urgency, tracing every corner and eliciting a gasp of pleasure from your lips. he has the audacity to hush you when he pins you harder with his hips, clothed cock rubbing perfectly against you.

your nails can’t help but dig into his shoulders, pulling at the skin. the way he's moving against you makes you feel like getting on your knees and letting him do whatever he wants to you, for however long he wishes to.

but then, your stupid intercom is buzzing.

you both freeze, caught in the throes of passion interrupted. rafe drops his head on your shoulder, groaning.

"seriously?" he mutters, his voice tinged with frustration as he rolls off you, giving you space to sit up.

“it’s probably breakfast.” you’re smoothing out your rumpled clothes— if you can call an oversized tee and boxers an outfit.

rafe lets out an exaggerated sigh, flopping back onto the bed, “’m so hard it hurts.” he whines, throwing an arm over his face.

“you’ll be fine.”

“can’t even see you right now, might cum in my sweats.” he mutters, his voice muffled by the fabric of your pillows.

you stifle a laugh, shaking your head at his melodramatic response.

"you're ridiculous." you tease, moving to sit beside him on the bed.

rafe peeks out from under his arm, giving you a glare, his bottom lip jutting out in a comically exaggerated pout. “and you're making me harder, stop touching me and go get the door.”

you lean in to press a quick kiss to his cheek, feet planted on the ground as you attempt to get up, but he’s quick to pull you down again. his beefy arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you back on top of him.

“rafe.”

“gimme a kiss before you go.”

“though you didn’t want me to touch you.” you tease, leaning down to press a short kiss to his lips. it's meant to be quick, just a peck, but his hand snakes up to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss. settling on your lower lip, he draws it into his mouth, sucking lightly, pushing you even closer. he runs his hands along your sides, one stopping just below your covered breasts—

“the door,” you manage to stutter out between kisses, “behave.”

when he finally pulls away, both your lips are slightly swollen, red and you’re both breathless.

"there," you say as you push yourself off the bed once more. but this time, rafe lets you go without protest, admiring you with a lazy smile as you make your way to the door.

when you moved back to new york three months ago, you chose to do it independently. while your parents owned at least three penthouses in the city, you needed something smaller. what was the point in living alone in such big apartments? you’d be miserable and alone most of the time.

you chose a smaller studio, fancy enough to be your type, but cozy enough to make you feel at home, even though you were miles away.

as you reach the door, you glance back to see rafe still lounging in your bed, arms crossed lazily behind his head. you shake your own, turn back, and open the door.

your heart immediately falls through your ass.

“topper?!”

he ignores you, pushing you aside to enter as he focuses on removing the thick scarf around his neck, struggling to get it off as he rants.

“about damn time, you know how long i was outside?! swear to god i hate this city, it’s freezing for no reason and—is that rafe fucking cameron on your bed?!”

you freeze in place, feeling a knot form in your stomach as you watch topper's reaction unfold. rafe, ever the cool customer, sits up in bed, a smirk playing at his lips as he meets your brother’s incredulous gaze head-on. you can feel a headache forming in the back of your head.

"hey, top." rafe geets, his tone casual as if he's just encountered an old friend. which he has because that’s his best friend. "long time no see?"

topper's eyes narrow as he takes in the sight of rafe lounging on your bed, “okay, okay. what the fuck is going on?”

he's going to freak out on you.

you clear your throat, trying to find the right words to explain the situation, “he’s visiting.”

top nods, not leaving his best friend out of his sight, “clearly! why are you in my sister’s bed, cameron?”

“was i supposed to sleep on the floor?” rafe replies, tone nonchalantly as he shrugs casually.

you’re going to kill him.

topper's jaw clenches as he shoots rafe a glare, clearly unimpressed by his answer. "you know damn well what i mean." he says, his voice menacing, so different from what you're used to.

rafe's smirk only widens, “relax, man," he says, his tone dripping with casual indifference. "we were just hanging out."

and about to have sex, but your brother doesn’t need all the details.

topper's expression darkens further at your boyfriend’s flippant attitude, and you can practically feel the terrible outcome.

"in her bed?" he asks, his voice dangerously low.

you step forward, hoping to defuse the situation before it escalates any further.

"topper, it's not what you think," you begin, but your brother holds up a hand to silence you.

“and why are you wearing his clothes?”

you glance down at your choice of outfit, flustered, you try to come up with a plausible explanation, “uh—well—it's a funny story, i-i'm out of clothes actually, who knew doing your laundry took so much work?”

his attention flickers between you and rafe, suspicion evident in his expression. you can practically see the gears turning in his head.

"out of clothes?" he repeats, his tone incredulous. "and you decided to borrow his?"

you shift uncomfortably under his scrutinization, trying to come up with a better explanation, but you can’t. “yeah?”

he squeezes his eyes shut as if he’s in pain, “please tell me my sister isn’t fucking my best friend.”

you swallow hard, feeling the weight of his scrutiny bearing down on you, but rafe speaks before you can conjure the words.

“your sister isn’t fucking your best friend, happy?”

you shoot rafe a warning look, silently pleading for him to play along and not make the situation worse.

you step forward, again. “topper, please, it's not what you think,” you say, your voice tinged with desperation. “rafe just came to visit, that's all.”

topper's stare softens as he contemplates, but his expression remains guarded. “and you didn't think to tell me?”

you bite your lip, feeling guilty for keeping your relationship with rafe a secret from your brother. “i wanted to, i just... didn't know how.”

rafe interjects, his tone more serious now. “top, i know this probably looks bad—”

“it looks really bad,” topper interrupts, his frustration evident.

“but nothing's happened,” rafe continues, ignoring the interruption. “we're just friends.”

but your brother is still inspecting you. and it’s only when his eyes descend to your neck, you realize what he’s looking at.

“is that why she got at least three hickeys on her neck?”

you feel a flush rise to your cheeks as topper's accusation hangs heavy in the air. you stare nervously at rafe, hoping he'll come up with a believable explanation, but he just shrugs nonchalantly, as if the hickeys are no big deal.

“they’re not hickeys, i burned myself with my curling iron.”

“yeah and i’m fucking adriana lima on my spare time.”

“okay?” you quickly turn your head back to the wall because you think you're about to puke up everything you just ingested.

"oh fuck, not you." top groans in frustration, seeing where rafe googly looks are directed, “not you two! you can't be serious?! that's my sister, dude; come on!"

rafe finally stands up from your bed, his tone is firm, his expression serious as he steps closer to your brother, his hands held out in a placating gesture. “it’s not like that.”

topper glances back and forth between you two, focusing on the blush of your cheeks and the adoration in rafe’s face now that you are looking back at him. a sick, knowing feeling had been building inside of him since he walked through the door.

“i can’t fucking believe this.”

“it’s not like that,” rafe repeats, walking to your side, hating the way your eyes are starting to water. he keeps his hand on your arm, thumb brushing circles over your cold skin, “we’re together. and watch your fucking tone when you speak to her.”

“don’t tell me how to speak to my sister!"

rafe's jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek. despite that, his hand remains steady on your arm, offering you a silent anchor of support. you feel a knot tighten in your stomach as you testify the tension between the two most important men in your life escalates.

"guys, please," you interject, your voice trembling, "this isn't helping anything."

“you’re in love with her, cameron?”

topper’s question makes you want to dig a hole in the middle of your studio and run.

what the hell?!

he can’t just barge in and make everything a mess. this is what you were afraid of, people meddling with your relationship. you and rafe haven’t discussed it yet. yeah it’s clear you’re in love with him, but you want to be the one to tell him and vice versa. you don’t want him to feel pressured to do it.

rafe's hand tightens on your arm, anchoring himself with the feeling of you beneath his fingertips. his eyes search yours for guidance. you can see the conflict in his expression.

he doesn’t shy away from the question, and his gaze never leaves yours. he traces every line of your face, “yeah, i am.”

the words hang in the air, a declaration that changes everything and nothing all at once. then time stops. your stomach turns unhelpfully, and you feel your skin turn clammy.

from the corner of your eye, you see the shock register on your brother’s face before he can hide it. strangely, he seems to understand now, perhaps more than you realized he would. for a moment, there's silence in the room, the weight of rafe's confession settling over all of you. but then topper lets out a heavy sigh, his shoulders sagging with the weight of understanding.

"okay," he says, his voice softer now, lacking the edge of anger from before. "okay."

you let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding, feeling a sense of relief flood through you. despite the uncertainty of what comes next.

rafe's hand finds yours, intertwining his fingers with yours in a silent gesture of solidarity. you squeeze his hand, feeling the warmth of his touch grounding you.

"thank you," you say to topper, your voice barely above a whisper but brimmed with gratitude.

he nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "just... take care of each other, okay?"

“can you leave now?” rafe all but interrupts the sentimental exchange, “kinda need to properly confess.”

topper raises an eyebrow at his abrupt request, clearly caught off guard by the bluntness. but after a second of hesitation, he nods, pushing himself off the wall where he's been leaning.

"yeah, sure," he says, giving you a meaningful look before turning to leave. "just... be careful, both of you. i’ll stop by later for dinner."

you offer him a small smile in return, feeling a shit ton of emotions swirling inside you as you watch him go. once he's out of sight, you let out a sigh, the tension in the room finally dissipating.

rafe releases your hand, moving to close the door behind topper before returning to your side. his expression is softer now, focused solely on you.

"you okay?" he asks, his voice soft as he brushes a strand of hair away from your face.

you nod, offering him a shaky smile. "yeah, think so. that was... unexpected."

rafe pulls you into his arms, holding you close as if he never wants to let you go.

"m’ sorry peach," he murmurs against your hair, his voice filled with regret. "didn't mean to drop that bomb on ya like that."

you sink into his embrace, finding comfort in the warmth of his body and the steady beat of his heart. "t's okay," you whisper, your voice barely audible as you nuzzle into his chest. "just wish it had been different."

he presses a kiss to the top of your head, arms tightening around you protectively. "i know," he murmurs, his voice a soothing balm to your frazzled nerves.

then, as if a floodgate has opened within you, the words spill from your lips, raw and unfiltered. "i’m in love with you too, rafe."

his arms around you tighten, as if to reassure himself that your words are real.

"i love you," he murmurs against your hair, "more than anything."

you feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, “you’re gonna make me cry.”

he pulls back slowly, cupping your face in his hands and wiping away the tears that have started to fall. "hey now, no tears, baby. only happy ones, yeah?"

you nod, sniffling but managing a watery smile. "yeah, happy tears. because i love you, rafe cameron."

he smiles back, a gentleness in him you've never seen before.

"and i love you, more than anything in this world."

you can't help but lean into his touch, feeling the warmth of his palms against your cheeks. his stare is full of tenderness, his thumb gently brushing away the last traces of tears.

"you're everything, y’know that?" he murmurs, his voice overflowing with sincerity.

you nod, feeling a lump forming in your throat at the depth of his words. "yeah, i do. and so are you.”

he leans in closer, lips capturing yours in a sweet kiss. he moves against you with a gentle fervor, his hands cradling your face as if you're the most precious thing in the world to him. and in that moment, you know without a doubt that you are and as you pull away, breathless yet content, you rest your forehead against his, savoring the closeness and the warmth that surrounds you.

"i love you," you whisper.

"i love you too, always," rafe replies, his voice a gentle caress against your skin.

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milswrites · 3 months

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Failed Dates and Fated Mates

~ Azriel X Fem!Reader

Summary: Azriel had finally asked you on the date he has longed for ever since he met you. Only now the day has arrived, everything seems to be going wrong. Can Azriel still make this a night to remember or will his failed attempts of romance be enough to drive you away?

Warnings: None? (Ok maybe like one mention of snapping necks…and one mention of jumping someone)

The first thing that went wrong was that Azriel was late. Horribly late. In hindsight, planning a date on the same day that Rhysand had asked him to go and check on a rebelling war camp in Illyria was a terrible idea. Azriel had spent the latter part of his day glaring at the sinking sun, willing it to stay glowing in the sky for just a little while longer. Praying to the cauldron that the tedious meeting he had found himself trapped in would soon draw to an end, enabling him to promptly take his leave and fly back to Velaris as swiftly as his wings would allow.

But Azriel wasn’t so fortunate, the dull arguments still ongoing without an end in sight, the traitorous sun now beginning to softly kiss the horizon. The disgruntled shadowsinger sat and listened to the endless disagreements with a clenched jaw, resisting the urge to snap the camp leaders neck in order to put an abrupt end to this fruitless task Rhysand had assigned him.

Foot tapping impatiently against the floor, Azriel restlessly shifted in his uncomfortable seat as the final few words were spoken. The monotonous tone of the male speaking finally came to a blissful halt. Launching from his chair the very moment the meeting was finally over, Azriel flared his wings as he exited the dull tent, shooting up into the now night sky. The sight of the twinkling stars illuminating the swirling black canvas was usually a picture Azriel admired, yet now he found himself swearing at their appearance, their beaming light mocking his tardiness.

The cold bite of the wind numbed his reddened cheeks as he sped through the grey clouds. Cursing himself, Azriel wished he had never taken the mission. Anger building in his chest for being stupid enough to plan a date on the one day this month he was away from his home. Bitter that he had been too cowardly to ask Rhysand to move the meeting once he realized his mistake. So here he was, wings beating forcefully to carry him back to Velaris in as little time as possible, hoping that you would still be waiting for him. Praying that he hadn't spent months working up the courage to ask you on a date only to ruin it by not being there.

~~~~~

His heart never failed to cease its incessant pounding, even as he circled over Velaris in search of a florist where he could buy you some apology flowers in hope they’d make up for his tardiness. He practically threw his money at the startled vendor, snatching the first bouquet he laid his hands on, before once more furiously taking flight, this time in the direction of your home.

He landed roughly, knees buckling with the force at which he had landed. Anxiously stepping over the blooming plants he had crushed during his descent into your garden. Speeding to your door, he raised his shaky hand to knock against the wood. But before he even had the chance to do so, you opened the door as if you had been waiting there for him.

Azriel took the opportunity to admire you as he struggled to catch his breath after the exhaustion that had washed over him during his frantic flight. Allowing himself to take in your beautiful features he had spent the past few months admiring from a distance, noticing the extra effort you had put into your appearance for the date. The light dusting of rosy blush across your rounded cheeks and the deep rouge carefully painted onto your lips. Azriel was captivated, amazed at the skilled way you had highlighted your already perfect features. Trying to resist the hypnotizing urge to lean in and place a testing kiss against your plush lips. Wondering if the rouge would transfer onto his own, marking him as yours.

Chest still heaving, he pulled his arm from behind his back. Revealing the bouquet he had hurriedly bought you as an afterthought. Only, once he pulled them out to hand them to you, he was met with the sight of tangled stems, the violet petals having dropped from the flowers due to the hasty speed at which he had traveled.

Expletives rolled from his tongue at the disastrous direction this evening was already heading in. The date hadn't even begun and everything was already going wrong. But you, sensing his increasing frustration, happily grabbed the mangled stalks from his shaking hands, a teasing grin on your face as you spoke in an attempt to calm the male, “Looks like someone was desperate to see me! Surprisingly not the worst gift someone has given me on a date, I once got a half eaten bar of chocolate.”

“I’m so sorry,” he explained feverishly, beginning to ramble about the horrendous day he had endured, “Rhys sent me to some camp in the middle of buttfuck nowhere and I’ve been in meetings since dawn and I never thought they’d end and I tried to get here on time, I really did and-”

You interrupted his panicked explanation, “It’s ok Azriel, truly. We still have all night ahead of us. Unless you’d prefer to rest after the day you’ve had, in which case I don’t mind if you want to come in for a tea and we can just rearrange it.”

His nerves lessened at your gracious understanding, pounding heart beginning to settle in his chest. “I’d still like that date if I haven't messed up my chances?” he asked hopefully.

Flashing him a pleased smile, you lifted a hand to his hair and plucked out a rogue violet petal from your bouquet, laughing as you said, “you may want to prune yourself before we head off though.”

Azriel raised a scarred hand to his hair, attempting to shake out any of the petals which had found their home in his windswept locks, “better?”

“Almost” you hummed, carefully picking out the last few leaves from his unruly hair. “There,” you said, satisfied at a job well done, “back to your usual handsome self. Although I must admit purple is a good colour on you.” He blushed a deep shade of red at your words, shyly breaking eye contact before he offered a tentative arm for you to take, nervously mumbling as he did so, “shall we?”

~~~~~

The two of you walked contentedly through the cobbled streets of Velaris, Azriel helping to keep you steady as the thin points of your heels kept getting stuck between the uneven stones. He was leading you towards a fancy restaurant he had booked specially for the occasion, remembering how Cassian had raved about the good food and romantic atmosphere after he had taken Nesta there one evening. Swearing that his mate had never shown her appreciation of him more than after she was satisfyingly filled with their delectable food. Azriel hoping that you would enjoy it just as much as Nesta had.

You approached the hostess stand placed outside the heaving restaurant. Walking past a large, winding queue of people who hadn’t booked, eagerly waiting to see if there was a spare table available. Azriel, having walked here a week prior to make the reservation, ignored the line as he went to speak to the staff at the door, “Uh, a booking for Azriel please, party of two.”

The stern-faced hostess checked her books, haughtily flicking through the pages as her brows furrowed, stopping as she finally found the male’s name. “I’m sorry,” she said sharply, no remorse in her voice, “your reservation was for over an hour ago, we gave the table away to someone else.”

Azriel blanched, his face going deathly pale in his flustered panic. You tightened your grip on his arm in hope of easing his worry, opting to speak to the hostess for him before he sank into the shadows in embarrassment, “Is there any chance we could get another table? His work kept him for longer than expected. It was an unforeseen circumstance, we would have sent a message your way if we knew.”

The stone faced woman directed your attention to the long line of people which ran all the way down the street until it curled around the corner, flooding onto the next, “you can join the line like everybody else. Or get this, don’t miss your booking next time.” A miserable Azriel had to hold you back to prevent you from jumping the woman, showing her just what would happen if she continued speaking to you with her sour attitude.

“Fine. Fine!” You huffed, “we’ll find somewhere better. Come on Az.” With that it was your turn to lead the male, dragging him as far away from the restaurant and its insufferably rude staff as you could. The male groaned despairingly at the situation, “Cauldron I’m so sorry. I’ve really made a mess of things.” Brushed his negative words away you scoffed, “I think it’s for the best, wouldn’t want to eat at that snobby place anyway.”

Azriel’s sorrow-filled eyes landed on yours, “maybe we should call it a night? We can try again another day if you’d still want to? this night is a total failure.”

Rolling your eyes at Azriel's pessimistic attitude, you disagreed with the males intentions of ending the night early, “What? Azriel it’s fine! Come on we’ll find somewhere else, there's bound to be hundreds of better restaurants.”

~~~~~

Determined to find a better place than Azriel had booked, which by the look of things wouldn’t be difficult to do, you moved together through the winding streets. Azriel relaxing little by little as you worked to clear his memory of the bad day he’s been having as you talked animatedly with him, hungrily eyeing up every restaurant you passed.

The more and more you walked, locked deeply in an enthralling conversation, the further away you headed from the bustling streets which were full of life. Instead, finding yourselves in the remote backstreets of Velaris, the narrow winding streets home to a different type of breathtaking beauty than the rest of the swarming City.

You passed an empty restaurant, the sign bearing its name hanging on by a single rusted nail. Crooked wooden tables set outside, laden with slightly grubby checkered tablecloths. Anyone would have walked past this, opting to instead go and find a busier, better looking place to eat. But to you, the small restaurant was the perfect place for your date. “This one!” You enthusiastically declared, pulling slightly on Azriel’s hand to stop him from walking past the quaint building.

“Are you sure?” Azriel sounded unsure, having assumed that you would have wanted to be taken to somewhere nicer for your date than a hidden, grubby hole in the wall. “This one’s perfect,” you confirmed with a grin, leaning into the open door to speak to the elderly waiter who was sat in boredom at the counter. Gesturing to the table outside, you stirred him from his daydream, “Are you open? Do you mind if we sit here?”

The man startled to life, disbelief crossing his face that there were actually willing customers before him, ones he didn't have to drag in from the street. “Yes…Yes! Of course! Please, do sit down" he cheered, jumping to his feet before scurrying away to grab some menus.

Azriel helped you take a seat at the wobbly table before moving to sit himself. You closed your eyes in bliss, appreciating the cooling breeze which made the humid night air slightly more bearable. The exited waiter returned with a candle for the table and a cold bottle of wine which he poured into the two glasses for you, “On the house for such a beautiful couple.” The pair of you blushed, thanking the kind man for his generosity, ordering your food from the menu before he scurried off into the kitchen, undoubtedly going to make the food himself.

“I think this is much better than my choice” Azriel mused, eyes now seeing the hidden beauty of the place, smiling at the twinkling fairy lights above you which cast a warm yellow glow over the silent street. It was quiet enough that you could both enjoy a pleasant conversation together, not needing to shout at each other to be heard, nor needing to whisper lowly to avoid annoying any other customers. No, the two of you were free to fall into your own little world, loosing yourselves in a stimulating conversation.

~~~~~

The words flowed easily, never fading into an awkward silence. No, you could talk to Azriel forever and he would be all too happy to listen, so long as it meant getting to spend time with your magnetizing presence. His anxiety now forgotten, he allowed himself to enjoy what had turned out to be a perfect date, the two of you already able to joke about the previous events of the evening.

The food was divine, portions large enough that you could eat your fill until you were satisfied. Stomachs happily full as you continued to sit and drink at the rickety table as you talked for what must have hours.

Testing the waters, Azriel stretched out a tentative hand, hoping to connect it with your own which was resting on the table. Warm eyes never leaving your face as he slowly moved his hand along the top of the table, failing to notice the glass full of wine which was placed before you. Clumsily, he knocked over the glass. His shadows stirred to life, catching the glass before it completely fell over, yet failing to be quick enough to prevent the liquid from spilling all over your lap. The cold temperature of it causing you to squeal in shock.

“Shit!” Azriel cursed as he jumped from his seat, grabbing napkins to come and help pat the wine from your dress, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to do that! Cauldron I'm such an idiot.”

You placed a gentle hand on his wrist, stilling his panicked wiping which was making the damp stain on your dress worse. “Don’t worry Az,” you smiled sweetly, “it’s just some wine. It will wash out.”

The male sighed deeply, pinching his brow in exasperation, “this night really isn't going the way I wanted it to.”

“Oh yeah?” You asked, smile never faltering for a minute, even when you were faced with the sullen male, “and how did you want it to go?”

Roughly plonking himself back into his seat, Azriel inhaled a deep breath before speaking, “well I would have been on time for starters. Then we would have eaten that nice meal, I definitely wouldn’t have spilled your drink all over you. And I booked us tickets for the theatre…which we have definitely missed by now. I just...I wanted to impress you."

“I’ve never really cared for theatre” you dismissed, “it usually puts me to sleep. And Az we did share a nice meal! You don't need to try and impress me, you already do that every day.” You lay your hand upon his, smoothly completing the move he had attempted to do to you, thumb lovingly caressing the scarred skin of his hand, not put off by the uneven skin that made Azriel feel self-conscious.

You sat in thought, thumb still absentmindedly brushing his skin, “you know what? Come on, this nights not over yet.”

You excitedly pulled the Illyrian to his feet, thanking the generous waiter as you tipped him nicely before taking your leave. This time walking through the streets of Velaris with a destination in mind.

~~~~~

Hand in hand, you and Azriel walked along the Sidra, admiring the way the water glistened underneath the moonlight, Approaching a small empty beach, comprised of small rounded pebbles rather than sand, you removed your shoes so you could walk along it. Holding them in your free hand, the one which wasn't locked in Azriel's warm hold, the two of you made your way onto the beach. Walking towards the Sidra, you released Azriel's hand, allowing your bare feet to be submerged by the chilling waters of the river.

“Do you come here a lot?” Azriel asked, appreciating the way you seemed at home here, feet happily kicking through the flowing water as it soaked through the bottom hem of your dress. You looked like a nymph, wandering the shores of a City that appeared alien compared to the natural beauty of this small hidden piece of paradise.

“Sometimes,” you shrugged, “it’s a good place to think. Nobody ever really comes here.”

“It’s beautiful” he concluded, eyes not straying from your angelic form, the moon perfectly placed behind your head like a halo.

“The perfect way to end an incredible date don’t you think?” You grinned, leaving the water to come and walk by his side, his wing moving to curl around you to protect you from the wind which was steadily getting cooler as the night progressed.

Azriel snorted, shoulder bumping against yours playfully, “I’d say it’s been far from perfect. You deserved a better night I’m sorry.”

“Will you stop saying sorry?” You begged, eyes rolling at how pathetic he was making this pleasant evening seem, “I didn’t say yes to a date because I wanted to go to a fancy restaurant or the theatre. I said yes, Azriel, because I wanted to spend time with you. I never cared about what we were going to do. I still don’t! I just wanted to be with you.”

Azriel suddenly stopped in his tracks, you turned around in order to face where he was stood. The male looked like a god. His large winged form illuminated by the soft, warming light of the City which was now far behind, his tangled mane of hair blowing lightly in the wind, as his well-structured face held a picture of surprise due to your words.

“But isn’t that what you’re supposed to do to get someone to like you?” He asked in confusion, Cassian had always told him how you had to treat a woman like a princess. That if you took her out and spoiled her there was absolutely no way in hell they would be able to resist your charm. But what you were saying, that you didn’t need to be spoiled because you just genuinely wanted to spend time with him, had Azriel questioning everything he thought he knew about women.

“You don’t need to do anything to make me like you Azriel. I already do, I always have. From the very moment I first laid eyes on you" you shrugged, unafraid to reveal your emotions for the male who made it all too easy to love him, "you’ve had my heart for longer than you realize, and one - admittedly slightly failed but not completely terrible date - isn’t going to convince me otherwise.”

"But why" Azriel questioned, still not quite understanding how you were so willing to look past everything that hand gone wrong, all caused by his own wrongdoing.

"Azriel I would sit through a million failed dates with you, it doesn't matter! Not if it means we're doing it together." You sighed as you took in his still bewildered expression. Were you really going to have to spell it out for him?

"Cauldron Azriel, you're my mate!" you revealed, trying not to laugh as the males face contorted from confusion to a catatonic stupor, his eyes widening in alarm at your confession. Grinning at his reaction you continued, "If being your mate means I have to love your tardiness, ruined gifts and incredibly poor taste in restaurants then Azriel I would happily sit through every failed date we have. Nothing is going to change how much I long to be with you."

"Mates?" he replied, a crooked smile forming on his face at the realization. Liking the way it sounded on his lips. "Yes!" you beamed, stepping towards his relaxing body so you could throw your arms around him. "So I didn't blow my chance?" he whispered into your ear as the two of you hugged tightly.

"For my mate? I'd give him all the chances in the world!" you answered truthfully, "Although hopefully on the next date you won't freak out as much if things don't go as planned."

"Honestly?" he shyly spoke, "I think there's going to be even more pressure on the next one now I know we're mates. I'm talking major freak outs." You laughed at his words, making a move before he could say anything else, pulling Azriel closer towards you and sealing your lips against his in a passionate kiss.

Lightning struck, and the heavens opened. Torrents of rain falling from the dark clouds which had suddenly blown in from the mountains. It took less than a minute for the rain to soak through your clothes and a minute more for the male to reluctantly pull away from the kiss with a groan. Raging eyes glaring up at the sky as if his anger could cease the heavy fall of water.

Giggling you pulled his chin down so he would face you once more, the rain flowing down your face aiding in cooling your warm skin, which had heated up from the burning desire that was birthed from the lustful kiss you had exchanged.

"Don't" you whispered through swollen lips, admiring the claiming way your lipstick had smudged against his skin, "It's perfect. You're perfect". The uncomfortable way his sodden clothes were clinging to his skin forgotten, Azriel connected his lips with yours once more. The storm that raged around you not enough to deter him from deepening the kiss, tongue meeting yours as you allowed yourselves to get lost in the moment, hidden away on the desolate beach.

And as your lips sensually worked together as one, Azriel finally came to the same conclusion you had. It wasn't how well a date goes that determines whether or not it's perfect. It's the person who’s with you. The kind of person who can find the humor and beauty of a moment whether it’s good or bad. Azriel had found that person, his other half. His mate. And perhaps, he mused to himself as the searing kiss continued, perhaps tonight wasn’t a complete and total failure. Something good did come from it after all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Notes: My first time writing on my laptop and boy what a difference it makes lol. The half eaten bar of chocolate given as a gift on a date unfortunately actually happened 🙃

#acotar #fanfic #acotar imagine #sarah j maas #a court of thorns and roses #azriel x reader #azriel imagine #azriel oneshot #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel

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pirateprincessblog · 9 months

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Strawberry Mocha

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫.: your favorite café has a new barista, and he seems oddly familiar, especially when you see his hands move when he prepares your favourite beverage 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jung wooyoung x reader, ft yunho 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 24.7k 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: barista!wooyoung, student!reader, camboy!wooyoung, virgin!reader, hopelesslyinlove!yunho 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: masturbation, mutual masturbation, sexting, public oral, public fingering, blindfold, slight bondage, toys, edging

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: swearing, v-card loss, angst on yunho's side 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: pussy drunk wooyo idk man also i imagine wooyo as bouncy wooyo here with that hot ass hair purr but make it oreo like he had it in aotm

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫s 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲.

nsfw link(s): one

anastasya wants to chat! click here to see one new message.

"hello, gorgeous. want to see my pussy?" - tina, less than 10 km away.

luciano is more than ready to show you the 8th world wonder.

"close. close. close." your words are synchronized with the clicking of your mouse. with each minute passing, each click is getting more aggressive.

sick and tired of all the sex ads interrupting your studying over an illegally found textbook, you bury your head into your pillow. your back hurts from laying on your stomach for hours, but it is the only position that helps you with period cramps. the laptop makes a noise again, one you've heard enough of for the last few hours.

"i really don't want to fuck you, nick." you whine, clicking at the x in the corner of the new ad. when it opens three new tabs, all you can do is groan and close the laptop. you have an exam tomorrow, today is your first day of the period, which means tomorrow it's going to be worse, and to make things better, you are bombarded with photos of nude men and women, with attached locations, chat boxes and quotes. you feel sick.

yet again, you have just a little more of this lesson left, and if you could manage to spend so many hours fighting the virus bots, you can do it for ten more minutes. all out of motivation and will to live, you turn the laptop back on. the screen brightness almost blinds you, you forget how dark it has become and how bright your screen is. your eyes skim over the words, your brain so focused on focusing, that you forget to focus. you are frustrated, in pain, your hair is so greasy you could model it like clay, and your are nails half bitten off.

three minutes until your sleeping schedule starts, and five more long paragraphs to read. taking a deep breath, you click the arrow to scroll. as if the laptop is mocking you, it delivers you another message.

wooyoung (23), offers both mental and physical relief. check it out!

the ad flashes across the whole screen, the x not even visible on this one. you don't feel anything anymore. you've gone completely numb. accepted your fate. this will be your reminder to not study the last day ever again. you stare at the pink letters, then the picture on the side of it. it shows a young man, and oddly enough, not all oiled up and naked on it. it is a selfie, and in it he lays on the bed in the same position as you. how odd, to put a normal and clothed person on a sex ad.

"fuck it."

you drag the arrow over the highlighted letters, sighing. months, maybe even a whole year spent without a sexual contact. you didn't crave it. nothing in real life turned you on. maybe you didn't pay enough attention. maybe you've overgrown simple flirting and poor tries of having one night stands at parties. maybe all those young adult fantasy books on your shelves have raised your standards. looking back at the things that used to get you going makes you cringe. you've evolved from poorly acted out porn videos, to pages full of dark haired morally grey characters, blindfolds, leather gloves, candle wax, and whatnot.

you have yet to try out anything other than poor rubbings over the jeans you've received, not even orgasming. one night, three whole minutes of a drunk guy almost irritating your skin from harsh rubs, and a fake moan later, you start to wonder if you're the problem. proposing the idea of anything other than missionary and oral would make you the weird one, especially since you're a virgin. men here are shallow, and would rather jerk off to an amateur movie than try to match your standards and make the whole thing actually enjoyable.

the link you've clicked on doesn't open multiple tabs like the previous ones did. instead, it opens a single site, which first asks you to register and confirm your age. eager to see if the man in the picture was really the one offering such services, you log in with your google account, which unknowingly to you, used your picture and real name to set up the new account. your notes and pens are discarded on the floor, and your focus is on the man currently showing off his rings.

his hands are veiny, that is the first thing you notice. decorated with silver rings, nails neatly trimmed, with the pinky one painted black, and fingers oddly satisfying to look at. he brushes those same fingers through his hair, making it change colour for a split second. you notice that he is half blonde, which just makes you realize that sleep is not an option tonight. at least not yet.

"anyone want to open today's topic before i start?" he offers, scrolling through the comments.

you watch as people comment various topics and requests, the main one being for him to start touching himself already. for a sex cam, he does quite a lot of talking. maybe that's why you haven't left the site yet, but are staring at the way his teeth are biting his lip while his eyes focus on the bright screen.

"your friends are shaming you for having a threesome?" he reads out loud, then sighs. "they're probably virgins. or inexperienced girls who got fucked once then dumped. only they shame people for their sexual desires. they have no creativity at all. i can't imagine jerking off with just my hand anymore. feels bland. don't worry about them."

your fingers are quicker than your brain, and before you even register it, you hit send.

a soft laugh travels to your ears, and you just know it's because of your comment.

"you beg to differ?" he says, brushing his hair back again. he takes a moment to think. his rings shine under the dimmed lights, and you can't help but wonder how it would be to feel that cool sensation on your body.

you'd love to have him feel you up and down with this rings on, a cold contrast on your hot skin. you wouldn't budge if he were to put that hand against your neck, giving it light squeezes just enough to give you a thrill. you'd even let him do it in front of that camera of his, make all of these thirsty girls jealous because you're the one moaning his name. shit, you're really into him. or rather this whole situation. and he hasn't done a single sexual gesture.

"a virgin on my page. interesting." the young man hums, his eyebrows scrunched. "isn't life boring as a virgin? i mean, what do you do?"

i study, you're quick to reply again.

"i meant sexually, love." he laughs, somewhat fondly.

was it that obvious that you're a virgin? your cheeks feel hot, and you now wish to exit the page. but by doing that, you'll just prove him right. he'll make fun of you too, just like he did to those friends. you sigh. he doesn't know who you are, so it doesn't matter. you'll be honest, and maybe he'll give you a solution.

using hands isn't that boring

"ever tried a toy? or a person?"

tried a person. got disappointed.

"ah, what a shame. let me guess, gave you blisters from rubbing?"

oh just how did you know?

"poor thing," he coos, "if you had come to the right person, i would've given you just what you need."

the words come out raspy, and there's a sudden change on his face. you wonder if you said anything wrong. if he was thinking about banning you. but instead, a notification pops up in the corner of your screen.

wooyoung has sent you a message request!

oh.

"anyways, let's move on. am i in a hotel? ah, no. i recently moved houses, this will be my new filming room now. not as special as the previous one, but i need time to decorate it."

he keeps talking, eyes glancing at his phone every now and then, as if expecting you to answer right away. you are shaking, your head feels dizzy, and you find it hard to swallow. was he going to tell you privately to fuck off of his site? how embarrassing that would be. you wouldn't ever recover.

wooyoung has sent you a message request!

two of them now, yet you're still debating whether or not to exit and delete your browsing history. it won't hurt to look. you don't have to reply. you can just take a peek, leave him on read, and fuck out of there. it's not like he will see you on the street tomorrow. he could be on a whole different continent, and yet, he could be five houses away from you. either way, you're feeling vulnerable. those messages are either humiliation, or something entirely different. both of those make you feel uneasy.

then again, this is the only thing that sparked something inside you in these few months of feeling burnt out from reading all that erotica. the only difference is, this is happening. really happening. a whole man is in your chat, while he has an ongoing sex stream with more than five thousand people watching and commenting. and so when you say fuck it, you mean it.

wooyoung: ever tried an innocent soft little pillow?

wooyoung: guaranteed, feels better than a horny teenage boy.

your breathing is shallow, and you fear that you might collapse. his next message contains a phone number, and then, you watch him drop the phone on his bed. his focus is now on the camera, and the way his eyes stare into the lens, makes you feel as if they're searching for you. deciding to further test the waters, and see if he is just trying to have a little fun, or if he really has taken an ounce of interest in an inexperienced watcher, you send a text back.

he stops mid sentence, glancing at his phone. he fails to hide a smirk, and you're not sure whether it is the one of amusement or mocking.

am I, a boring old virgin, good enough for a pillow?

being a virgin doesn't mean you're all that innocent. quite the opposite, in your friend group, you are the one who leaves them all shocked when you speak of your desires. yet, who guarantees that this guy can accomplish what you want? they all want to "rock your world", show you how "good" it can be, until the make-out session is over and they come in their pants from simple dry humping. and you? who cares about if you came. your job is done the moment they come to their senses, and you are left to your growing disappointment in young men your age again.

wooyoung: does the boring old virgin know how to use one? perhaps some assistance is needed?

you swallow. you've never used anything other than your hand before. for someone with such a creative mind, you were quite a bore when it comes to pleasing yourself. you were used to your own touch, and you desperately needed someone else to fill the spot.

you glance at the screen. he is now holding something in his hand. it's clear, and long, and you're not sure if you've seen that before. your mind doesn't get enough time to form a thought, because he sticks two fingers in his mouth. he swirls the tongue around them, coating them until they're shimmering like the rings. sensually slow, he takes them out, making sure to give the camera a dreamy gaze. he turns the gadget towards the camera, and just when you figure out what it is, he brings his wet fingers to the hole in the toy. he circles the entrance, causing your tights to squeeze. you are so mesmerized by the way he slowly inserts his fingers into the toy, that you don't realize you are almost panting.

"need to prepare her for me." he says, giving it a few slow pumps.

you can almost feel his fingers on your cunt, he is just that good at this. each pump of his fingers sends a wave of butterflies straight to your abdomen. it's so painful, to be horny on your period. otherwise you would've came twice by now.

"think I've prepared her enough?"

comments are flooded with positive feedback, and the young man smirks. he readjusts the camera, and sits with his back against the bed frame. he wears short sweatpants, perfectly showing off his not so humble size. he takes his sweet time to undo the knot on them, driving the watchers (including you) insane. he laughs at the comments, and decides it's enough teasing.

"for all the virgins here tonight," he says, then glances at his phone.

finally, he pulls his sweats down. his cock find its place in his hand, not allowing you to take a better look. wooyoung gives himself a few slow strokes, head falling against the headboard as he does so. he hums, licking his fingers and pressing them against his cock. you have stopped breathing. his gaze is fixed on the lens, eyelids half closed, and breathing shallow. your eyes watch his movements, carefully documenting and engraving them in your brain so you can replay them for the next few weeks. he takes the toy, sliding it on his cock. your mouth drops when you see the absolute relief on his face, followed by an eyeroll and a deep moan. you figure that the toy serves him as a fake pussy. why a fake one, when he can have anyone he likes? his watchers must get jealous. you would be too, if you saw someone so hot that gives you such attention fuck someone else.

a few strokes in, and he is already bucking his hips upwards and moaning. wet noises travel to your ears, paired with multiple curses and sighs. suddenly, he sits up, grabbing two pillows from behind his back. he places a pillow on the mattress, the toy, then another pillow on top of all that. you almost gasp when you see him spit on his fingers, rubbing his cock, then slowly insert it into the toy. he grabs the pillows, then plunges his hips into it. he groans, and stays inside for a moment. then, he starts off with slow thrusts.

you've read so much about rough sex, that you didn't even think about the sensual side of it. how good it must be to savour every caress, every lick and every stroke. to actually take your time, like he is taking it with a simple toy. to be at his mercy for hours, what you'd give. helpless, deprived of senses, only him and you. you feel your heartbeat slow down as he stares into the lens, hips moving with such pace that has your stomach almost exploding.

overwhelmed by the situation unfolding in front of you, you shut your laptop down. you see your face on the black screen; cheeks puffed, pupils dilated, and mouth dry. fuck, what was that? did you just watch live porn? and did you interact with the person doing it? you check the time, and with a loud groan, you place the laptop on the floor and roll over. you have so little time to get some quality sleep, yet you're wide awake. your studying is nowhere near done, and you just know that a prayer won't save you tomorrow. from the exam, nor from the cramps.

surprisingly, you passed the exam. everything you've read last night managed to stick to your brain, despite the crazy situation that had interrupted you. you have already forgotten about it. when you woke up, it all seemed like a part of your dream. a very real dream. today, you didn't have time to think about it. your hair is a greasy mess, and an oversized hoodie hangs from your shoulders, covering your bloated stomach. you've dreamed about a cup of your favorite pink beverage all morning, and when the clock finally showed a sweet number four, you were the first one to run out of the building. your phone lays forgotten at the bottom of your backpack, mind too cluttered with the upcoming projects and cramps.

the coffee shop isn't as busy for a monday morning, and the timing is just right. you cannot stand anymore, so when you get next in line, you are relieved. you take a good look at the menu above the counter, happy that you've made it through such a tough morning.

"good day, how can i help you?"

your smile fades as quick as it arrives. you feel like all the blood in your body has pooled down in your feet, making it hard to move.

"oh, do you need to sit down? you look very..." the voice pauses, and you can feel an intense gaze on your face, before he continues "...pale."

you drop your gaze, slowly, feeling like the person is going to catch on if you do it in normal pace. right in front of you, stands the man who you watched fuck a pillow last night. he is very much real, not a fruit of your imagination combined with exhaust. he smiles sweetly, showing you towards a chair. you don't move. instead, you blink, and let your mouth run.

"i'll have the strawberry mocha please."

he scrunches his eyebrows, but begins to tap on his screen anyway.

"whipp-?"

"with whipped cream, thanks. just, uh, extra syrup. and pearl sprinkles."

he raises an eyebrow, looking at you suspiciously. you can't tell if it's because of your relation to his odd interaction last night, or simply because you are acting weird.

"that'll be-"

you interrupt again, pressing your credit card to the gadget near the cash register, eyes not leaving the wooden surface. with behaviour like this, he will soon figure out why you are acting this way. you must stop, before you embarrass yourself more.

"name?"

"anna," you blurt out, just in case.

"right," you think you hear him scoff, and if it weren't for your brain slowing down with each second, you would've asked what's so funny.

once he types in everything he needs, he points towards an empty section, gesturing you to take a seat. sitting on that chair has never been more uncomfortable for you. you feel like you sat on thorns, and no matter how you adjust, you are just making annoying creaking noises.

you glance at the man behind the counter. a lump forms in your throat as your eyes scan his hand movements. he is invested in the shaker, fingers skillfully moving it in the air. your concentration gets stolen by his face, loose strands falling on it eyes focused on the drink, and eyebrows scrunched. even if he was a aware of you staring, (you doubt he didn't notice), he doesn't spare you a glance. he pours the drink into the iced cup, spilling a little on his fingers and on the counter. you follow his hand, which takes a straw and drops it into the cup, and then moves towards his mouth. your breath stops in your throat, and your eyes almost drop on the floor.

he sticks the two wet fingers in his mouth, slowly, and looks up right at you. he catches you red handed, or better said, red cheeked. you're flustered by his hot, unprofessional, but hot move. and as if that wasn't enough, he has the audacity to maintain eyecontact as he brings you your beverage, a slight smirk dancing on his lips.

"your drink, anna."

"thank you, woo-" you freeze.

idiot. fucking idiot.

"ah, you managed to read my name tag."

he saves you, perhaps unknowingly. the amount of attention that his hands are gaining from you should be concerning, yet you still can't stop admiring those strangely attractive veins peeking from under his rolled up sleeve, going all the way to the fingers which are fixing the name tag.

"wooyoung, your shift ended ten minutes ago!" the voice behind the counter calls.

"oops." he snickers, then makes his way towards the counter, allowing you to take a look at his back too.

the thin white shirt is a little tight on his body, just enough to show off quite a few lines on his back. funnily enough, even though you've seen him naked, something about those clothes giving you a teaser is much more of a button pusher for you. the anticipation and buildup were always more interesting to you than the actual thing they lead to.

you laugh at yourself. as if any of that is going to happen to you any time soon. deciding you've spent enough time out of your comfy apartment today, you decide to put a lid on your coffee and leave the shop. at the door, someone tries to get out before you, but once they realize it's a bit tight for both, two hands gently find their way on your waist. a strong scent of jasmine washes over your senses, warm and firm body pressed against your back.

"oh, watch it, love."

and with that, you stand on the entrance, watching the familiar man run off to his car, the barista apron resting over his shoulder.

wooyoung: disconnected mid show?

wooyoung: was it too overwhelming for your first time?

wooyoung: shame, i put my all into that orgasm, only to see you disconnected long ago

you are rolling in your bed, listening to the messages that are being read out loud by your very best friend. disbelief evident in his voice, he reads, over and over. you haven't yet replied, and having an actual encounter with him today didn't make it easier for you to do so.

"he's, like, a hundred percent real?"

"he very much is."

"are you sure? because ai is getting very scary these days-"

"yunho." you sit up, face inches away from him. "i stood this close to him."

the tips of his ears turn red, and you manage to catch a single glance he sends towards your lips. you ignore it, trying to convince yourself that if you do not notice, it will not happen. his behaviour will stop.

"he is very much real."

"o-okay," he stutters, turning his head sideways as to avoid being caught staring again, "so what now?"

"i don't know. what is there to do? he's just some porn guy, and i was just an accidental watcher. nothing is going to happen."

"and-"

your phone pings, as if knowing what yunho was about to ask.

"-the messages?"

"i'll just..." you stall, glancing at the phone and trying to see the notification, "...delete it all."

the man in front of you scoffs, believing in your words as much as you. he gets off your bed, picking up his jacket along the way.

"i'll see you in class tomorrow."

you only nod, feeling guilt pooling up at the bottom of your stomach. yet, as soon as you hear the door shut, you grab your phone. indeed, messages from wooyoung are taking up your phone screen.

wooyoung: out of curiosity, you didn't happen to try the pillow thing?

wooyoung: need to borrow mine?

you bite your lip, and your eyes fall on the pile of pillows yunho used to make himself comfortable.

i haven't tried it. and no, i have four of them.

wooyoung: shame. bet they'd love to be suffocated between your legs.

you choke on your spit, eyes skimming over the message multiple times.

that one of your fetishes? being suffocated with female tights?

wooyoung: you have no idea.

a few minutes pass,and you are thinking of various replies to send to him. do you keep talking to him? do you start flirting? is this considered flirting? if yes, are you doing a good job? a few more minutes pass before your phone dings again, wooyoung interrupting your thinking process.

wooyoung: well, i see that you're extremely disinterested in my tries of communication, so i shall just leave you be. hope my actions and i weren't overwhelming for you. if that's the case, my sincere apologies. you're always welcome to my lives though.

wooyoung: oh, and good luck studying!

"no, no," you whisper, seeing the online tag under his name disappear. your lack of communication with actual confident men and your awkwardness in general made him back off. it all felt too real to be true, but it was real. and you let it slip away. your only chance at gaining experience and living out your fantasies.

i'm not disinterested!

shit, you shouldn't have sent that exclamation mark. he will think you are desperate now. he doesn't reply, nor does the tag under his name reappear. you wait, minutes, half an hour, just rolling on the bed and switching between apps, trying to see if he at least went online. maybe he only read it from his notifications, and that wasn't enough to make him come back. you pick up the last few ounces of desperation you have left, and grab a pillow. you sit on it, crushing it between your legs, and pull your oversized hoodie just enough to cover your bottom and expose your thighs. you have discarded the pants the moment you entered the house, already used to walking around in yunho's old comfy boxers. you snap a picture, once, then twice, until you are satisfied with the angle and all the details that he may not even notice; like your chipped nail polish or the messy notes from yunho's studying.

instantly, wooyoung comes back online. he begins typing, then stops. he types again, and stops once more. you are biting your nails, regretting already. now that he knows how desperate you are, he will lose interest in you. you would too if you were him. you zoom into the picture, trying to figure out if anything is wrong with it.

wooyoung saved the picture in the chat!

oh.

wooyoung: fuck, that's

wooyoung: wow

wooyoung: those are the smoothest and softest thighs i've ever seen in my life

wooyoung: you know when you look at something and you know the texture of it? i bet i could just sink between them just like that pillow

wooyoung: could you ride that for me, angel?

the nickname sends arrows to your core, and you gulp. he knows his way with words, and you are so here for it. you can feel yourself dripping, and not from what you're supposed to drip from. your horny levels hit the sky on your period, and oh, how convenient that all of this is happening on the second day of it. he doesn't have to know, you could keep him hooked, until your period is done. but then what? what guarantees that he will not lose interest once he has a little fun with you with all the dirty talk?

your hands work against your brain, and soon enough, you are grinding on the soft material, one hand holding the phone and the other one covering your mouth so that no noises come out of it. if it feels good with so many layers on you, how good can it feel with your bare clit rubbing against it?

wooyoung: atta girl

wooyoung: feel good?

you only moan at the praise he delivers you, hips speeding up the pace.

yes, you manage to quickly type in.

wooyoung: can you type and work it? is it hard for my good girl to multitask?

you set the phone aside, focusing entirely on the object between your legs. you roll your hips, dedicated to chasing the sweet pleasure that has abandoned you for so long. at the memory of his skilled hips last night, the orgasm washes over you so quickly. his choice of words significantly sped up the process, and you aren't to complain. you take your time to calm your breathing, before taking the phone in your hands again. it was new, and different, but most importantly, fucking good.

the euphoria doesn't last long, the look of horror replacing the one of pure bliss on your face. right under wooyoung's message stood yours.

voice message sent.

it is you shamelessly whimpering and grunting, mere four seconds of it, yet enough to make wooyoung save it in the chat.

wooyoung: is it christmas already?

wooyoung: i keep getting present after present. what did i do to deserve it?

wooyoung: i better go fix the problem you've created.

wooyoung has sent a picture! tap to view.

the picture is dark, but there is just enough lighting for you to see his defined v-line and the bulge in his sweatpants. you bite the inside of your cheek, suppressing a smile. you made someone horny. not just anyone, but wooyoung, a porn creator. he has surely seen lots of things, how come a fully clothed picture and a four second audio could get him in the mood?

you have saved the picture in the chat!

in the next few days, you ask yunho to pick up the beverage from the coffee shop while you grab something to eat. he is happy that you started including breakfast in your day, and isn't yet aware that you are only avoiding the man he also knew about. perhaps wooyoung worked different shifts, and they didn't have an encounter yet? it's a bit cruel towards yunho, but you can't make yourself go in there. not until you've grown some dignity.

today, yunho isn't here. he has only answered to your message, saying that he has a flu, and that he will be resting for a day or two. which leaves you to getting the coffee on your own. you run from the rain, your umbrella broken and swimming away somewhere down the road. you would've picked it up and threw it away, really, if that lighting wasn't so close to you and you started running for your life. you are soaked, the hoodie stuck to your skin and the shorts uncomfortable and heavy. you hurriedly enter the coffee shop and exhale, the warmth of the place caressing your cold cheeks. you notice the place is empty, and the chairs are neatly tucked under the tables. the surfaces have been freshly wiped, and no menus or decorations were on them.

you approach the counter, ready to grab your beverage and leave before you make a bigger mess. nobody is there, the syrups and coffee cans are neatly placed on the shelves, not a drop of water visible on the counters. your eyes notice a little board, with pink letters on it.

due to sudden illness of two out of three workers, we are forced to work short hours this week. thank you for understanding!

underneath, you see that they work until four in the afternoon. you check the time, and upon noticing that it is just two minutes before four, you sigh. you turn around, ready to leave and rid the poor worker of trouble after they already prepared the place for closing.

"oh, i'm terribly sorry, i didn't notice you!"

the voice makes your blood run cold, and once again, you find yourself frozen in spot. only this time, you are all alone with him. no people surrounding you. just him, you, and the crazy weather outside.

"please, feel free to order. you have a minute and a half to place it!"

you turn around, eyes locking with brown ones. he is smiling sweetly, pointing towards the menu above his head.

"i don't want to bother you. you've cleaned the whole place and-" your eyes drop on the see through shirt hugging his body "-you've already taken your apron off."

"luckily, my boss is sick too so she can't give me crap about it. i can make your drink without it."

you make your way towards the counter again, eyes skimming over the menu, knowing damn well what you're going to order. you just have to buy yourself time so you can calm down. the scent of jasmine is taking over your senses, creeping into your mind and bringing back memories you wish so hard to forget so you can move on with your life. he is tugging you into the void, and you have nothing to get you out of there. you haven't heard from him since the day you rode the pillow for him, and you didn't have time to watch any of his lives.

"well, then. i'll have a strawberry mocha."

"ah, so it's your usual then."

"yes. extra syrup. and the pearl sprinkles, please."

"and whipped cream, yes", he types in the order, then looks behind. "you know, we have some strawberry cupcakes that didn't sell today due to the weather. would you like one? on the house!"

you hesitate, not wanting to waste his time. he could be home by now, doing something important. like filming himself. or texting you after you've left him on seen. or better said, saved.

"i really don't want to waste your time."

"you're not wasting my time, trust me. besides, i'd rather stay here a little more until my phone finishes charging. i don't want to get stuck in that weather outside with no battery."

he sees you hesitate and eye up the pink pastries, desire obvious in your eyes. he chuckles, then brings the whole tray on the counter.

"tell you what," he grabs the items needed for your beverage, not breaking eye contact with you, "i'll make us two strawberry mochas, and we'll eat those cupcakes so they don't get wasted until the weather calms down. sound good?"

you gulp. the look on your face is a complete opposite of him, as well as your body language. he is relaxed, beaming with confidence, and has a smile on his lips. meanwhile, you are stiff, your face is blank, maybe even scared at the fact that you're gonna be alone with the man who made you cum without touching you. but when thunder echoes through the place, you agree.

it doesn't take him long to make them and bring them to your booth in the corner of the shop. the smell of strawberries is the only thing keeping you sane at the moment. he sits across from you, shirt half unbuttoned, as if it's the warmest day of the spring outside. he doesn't have a care in the world. he silently enjoys the cupcake, occasionally glancing at you. you are slow with yours, careful not to stain your clothes with the pink icing.

"want to try?"

you look over at him. he brings his glass closer towards you, and aligns the straw with your lips.

"isn't it the same?"

"well, no." he laughs awkwardly. "try it, trust me."

you try taking the glass from him, but he is persistent in holding it for you. you wrap your lips around the straw, eyes locked with his dark ones.

"atta girl." he hums.

you swear you could orgasm right there on the spot. you pull at the liquid, cheeks hollowing and creating a perfect scene for him. he is dead serious, the smirks and chuckles long left behind the counter. the moment your tongue tastes alcohol, you push the drink away from you, creamy liquid dripping from your lips.

"fuck, is that whiskey?"

you wipe your top off with your sleeve, not yet realizing wooyoung's intense gaze on your lips.

"yes." he replies, as if it's the most normal thing in the world.

"god, why?" you finally lick the cream off your lips, ridding wooyoung of more fantasies forming in his head.

"it's good. why, don't like alcohol?"

you never really did. sure, you drank some tequilas, and a little gin of course, but not to the point to get drunk or actually go for a full round or two.

"i'm actually quite a virgin when it comes to alcohol."

the words are left hanging in the air, silence wrapping you both up. one might think that you knew exactly what you were doing with the choice of words, but you were plain dense. and wooyoung was here for it. he was whipped for all the innocent sides you were unknowingly showing him, but lord forbid he tells you anything. otherwise, you might stop talking at all.

"you can come over for classes if you want..." he brings the glass back in front of him, a smirk dancing on his lips, "...anna."

"yeah, i don't want any alcohol after my real classes, thank you."

the conversation stops, the only sound being quiet chewing and the rain pouring. wooyoung takes his time to think, and so do you.

"that yunho guy-"

"what do you do in your free time-"

you start at the same time. yunho? how does he know his name?

"you go first," you offer, unwrapping another cupcake.

"that yunho guy, he orders a single strawberry mocha with extra syrup and pearl sprinkles every day when you don't come. whipped cream too, of course. for you, assuming?"

you nod, poking those same sprinkles with your straw. yunho has been a little more absent in your life since this whole thing has started, and you feel bad to admit that you didn't really miss him. you weren't using him for coffee or homework, of course. you still like to occasionally chat with him, just not like before. especially since his feelings are coming more to the surface.

"yes, for me."

wooyoung hums, not asking further questions.

"so uh, wooyoung, right? you're new here?" you opt for a different question, seeing that he didn't remind you to finish the previous one.

"jung wooyoung, yes. i moved from los angeles recently, didn't find my luck there."

"ah, what do you do?"

"porn."

and just like that, the conversation stops. at least from your side. your head hangs low over your paper cup, fingers now playing with the cupcake wrap as you feel his gaze on you.

"are we going to act like you don't know what that is?"

"i know what it is," you stutter, fingers ripping the wrap apart and playing with bits from nervousness, "i just don't quite, you know, fit in that area."

"you sure fit in that night."

you choke on your spit, eyes shooting up to look at him. his elbow rests on the desk, supporting his head, while his other one plays with the empty cup. his finger grazes the corners, slowly circling it, as if trying to help you remember that night and the way the did it to the toy. your mouth goes dry, and you feel at his complete mercy.

"how-" you clear your throat, the roughness of it a dead giveaway that he caught you, "-how did you, uh, know?"

"you're telling me you saw nothing wrong with entering the coffee shop with that hoodie on, knowing full well i work here?"

you look down at the hoodie you're wearing. how fucking ironic, that it's the same hoodie you posed in for him. you really are that dense.

"i should get going."

"i can drive you home. you're not thinking of walking in this weather?"

him and you? in such a small space? for such a long time? what if you blurt out more stupid things, as if you haven't embarrassed yourself enough today? you wouldn't blame him if he left you on the side of the road.

the train of thoughts is interrupted by your name rolling off his lips so sweetly, dripping milk and honey. your actual name, not the fake one you gave him.

"yes?"

"i'm not camboy wooyoung now. i'm just wooyoung, your friendly barista. and when i say i can and want to drive you home, i mean it. no funny business. the last thing i want to do is make a loyal costumer uncomfortable."

it doesn't take long for him to clean up the table and grab his phone from the charging station. you patiently wait by the door, ears and cheeks warm from the unfamiliar situation you've found yourself in. you follow his commands, such as coming behind the counter and slipping through the staff door so that the cameras don't catch you. you squeeze into the pantry, waiting for him to lock the doors one by one.

"so, that yunho guy didn't take your virginity yet?" he blurts out, as if it is the most normal question he could ask.

"what?"

"well," he turns around, facing you, "he is your boyfriend after all, isn't he?"

"that's not quite- oh-" you are pressed into the corner, with wooyoung blocking the way out. he puts his hands on the wall, trapping you between his arms and forcing you to look at him.

"does your boyfriend know that you watch filth and film yourself for another man?"

"he isn't-"

"does he know that his innocent little girlfriend is alone with that same man inside an empty coffee shop, away from everyone?"

you fail to answer, instead opting for silence. your eyes fall on his exposed chest, fingers yearning to touch. you feel a hand under your chin, gently lifting your head up so that you can look at him again. you see pure desire in his eyes, and now you know exactly what the authors mean when they say that his eyes darkened with lust. you are witnessing it first hand, and now that you are finally here, you are not acting the way you did in your mind.

he brings his face close to yours, his loose hair strands tickling your cheeks. his breathing is shallow, much like yours, and when he slowly presses his lips against yours, you breathing stops completely. he holds your chin in his hand, thumb gently rubbing your cheek, while his other hand finds its place on your hip. he pulls your body into his, and ever so gently bites down on your bottom lip.

your first normal kiss ever. with the man you watched masturbate on a crucial studying night. he pulls away, just enough to move your hair out of the way.

"am i making you uncomfortable?" he asks, concern taking over his features.

"no," you whisper, not trusting your voice.

"you sure?"

"please keep kissing me." you look up at him, and wooyoung swears that he has never seen such big pleading eyes in his entire life. just how can he deny you such a thing, when you asked him so sweetly and innocently?

wooyoung loses control, and lets his heart take over. his hands grab your waist, picking you up and seating you on a nearby surface, knocking some cups and cutlery over in the process. his lips are pressed against yours again, moving slowly until you get used to it. your hands hesitantly wrap around his neck, fingers playing with the hair on it. wooyoung exhales into your lips, absolutely whipped for your little gestures.

you are soaking wet. you hope he doesn't feel it, considering he has your legs wrapped around his waist and your cunt pressed against his firm torso. with each kiss he so generously delivers you, a new batch of butterflies gets released in your stomach, making you feel all giggly and excited. he smells absolutely heavenly, and the way his tongue is grazing your lips is driving you mad. his fingers press into your thigh, feeling the flesh and lightly squeezing it. so he really does have a thigh fetish.

you whine when he pulls away from you, only to attach his lips to your neck. he drags his tongue down the side of your neck, to your collarbone. his hands sneak under your hoodie, lingering on your bare skin for a moment. you realize he is waiting for a sign to keep going, so you help him raise your hoodie right under your chest.

"should i stop?"

you didn't quite picture him as a man who would ask for consent multiple times. but then again, he is a man. not a boy. and just like he said: right now, he isn't camboy wooyoung. he is your friendly barista wooyoung. a particularly touchy friendly barista wooyoung. not that you're complaining.

"angel?"

absolutely lost in the way he is looking at you, you fail to answer. you feel so small in his arms, and so inexperienced when it comes to simple kissing. god, what if he wants something more right away?

"i need to know you're comfortable. i won't do anything if-"

you stop him by taking his hand and placing it on your breast. he gulps, gently squeezing the soft flesh. why does he seem so nervous? doesn't he fuck multiple people in a span of a month?

he rubs your tense buds, sending little shockwaves to your core. as soon as you lift the hoodie to your collarbones, wooyoung is quick to take your bud into his mouth. he teases with the tip of his tongue, making you twitch and yelp in his grip. you aren't used to this type of pleasure. it's new, and intensive. you love it.

his other hand keeps up the pace his tongue has set, rubbing slow circles on the sensitive buds. you struggle with breathing, and your hands are reaching out to grab anything; the counter, his shoulders, his hair, the counter again, and so on. your head falls back, and the feeling of pure bliss pools in your stomach. you feel like you could orgasm any moment, yet it never happens. wooyoung switches between each bud, treating them both equally. a particularly breathy moan leaves your mouth, making wooyoung hum. he is pleased with the way you're responding to him, so jumpy and whiny while he feasts on your body.

when he pulls away, you see a string of saliva connecting his lips with your breast. you moan at the sight, feeling adrenaline running through your veins and waiting to explode somewhere in your body. wooyoung drops down on his knees, fingers hooked in the elastic band of your shorts.

"if i don't get crushed between your thighs right now, i don't think i'll live to see another day."

even from that position, he is emitting insane dominant energy, and you are just a marionette in his hands.

"please."

you raise your hips just enough to help him pull the shorts down, along with the panties. you are thankful that they are the new ones you had discovered this morning since buying them a month ago. though, they were ruined with your arousal anyway and wooyoung probably couldn't care less. but instead of tossing them aside, he raises them in front of his eyes, admiring them.

"that's so fucking adorable."

they are plain pastel panties, with a small row of lace on the top of it. you figure he is used to strings and thongs, and how new a normal set of panties must seem to him. wooyoung folds the panties, and stuffs them in his pocket. too taken aback by his action, you do not have time to react when he places your legs over his shoulders.

"you don't have to cum. i just want to show you how good it can be."

you mean you want to leave me yearning for your touch as if i am not desperate enough?

"is that alright? can i lick you until you pass out?"

he knows exactly which words drive you insane. as if he was living in your head since you discovered the first young adult fantasy book. you nod, then breathe in. the sudden lighting outside makes you aware of where you are. you are about to have your cunt devoured by none other than the new barista everyone around you is crushing on, in one of the staff rooms. soft café music is heard in the distance now that the rain has calmed down, and it is only adding up to the rather odd, but once in a lifetime situation you are in.

a flat, wet muscle presses against your folds, softly licking up your arousal and stopping at your clit. you try to close your legs at the new feeling of pleasure, but wooyoung is quick to grab your thighs and keep them apart just enough so he can get you used to the feeling. your legs shake as the tip of his tongue massages the tip of your clit, pure pleasure taking over your body and completely shutting your brain off. you are a whining mess, shaking in his arms, pulling at his hair, and whatnot. his eyes never leave your face, memorizing every eyebrow scrunch, every eyeroll, every moan and every hand movement. he is entirely mesmerized by your existence. he has never seen anyone let their guard down like this and put themselves at his complete mercy.

he switches between techniques, not yet allowing you to work up your orgasm. he figures you like circles with the tip of his tongue best, they have you being more vocal and squirmy in his hold. wooyoung then snakes his hands under your bottom, gently lifting your lower body so that your head and shoulders lay comfortably on the wooden surface. your hips are in the air, and your legs hang off his shoulders. you are confused by the position he has you in, until he dives into your cunt once more. you moan, fingers reaching to pull at his soft hair. this time he doesn't separate your thighs, but instead presses his face further into your arousal and squishes your flesh against his cheeks, licking every drop you have to offer him.

"wooyoung-" you whine, hips subconsciously grinding against his face.

"good, good girl." he hums, lips closing around your bud and sucking on it.

you clench, body tensing up upon feeling the orgasm approaching.

"fuck- fuck-" you whine, hands gripping the shelves above your head.

wooyoung slows his movements to the max, carefully sliding his tongue up and down your clit, driving you insane with the orgasm delay. you want to cum so bad, but everything feels too much, you are sweating so bad, and the position you are in is making you more vulnerable and sensitive.

"please, please, please, pretty please" you beg, voice already betraying you and cracking at the end.

wooyoung groans against your cunt, then moves away. you gasp with surprise. all the pleasure leaves your body, and you are now laying on the surface again. you support yourself on your elbows, enough to look at him and ask just why he stopped.

"prettiest cunt i've ever seen in my life." he caresses your skin above it.

"why-" you breathe out, "- why did you stop? i was so, so close-"

"i had to, angel. i don't want you cumming in a pantry on an uncomfortable surface."

you watch him lick his lips, disbelief evident on your face. he chuckles, picking your shorts up from the floor.

"panties?"

"i'll get you new ones."

were the panties really that interesting to him? wooyoung reaches for something above your head, pressing his lips on your forehead before grabbing paper towels. you are sensitive to his touch, feeling overstimulated and irritated even though you didn't orgasm. he patiently wipes you, then pulls your shorts up, not forgetting to caress your thighs along the way.

"come here." he instructs.

you sit up, feet swinging from the counter. the man in front of you pulls you in for a kiss, this time a short one.

"you did very good. i hope you get your real orgasm somewhere comfy."

he hopes? was this a farewell? he had his little fun with you, and now he is no longer interested?

"come on, the weather is calmer now. i'll still drive you home though."

and just like that, he proceeds outside, leaving you with thoughts for a few moments. you feel a little humiliated, and very vulnerable and exposed. still, you follow him outside, and get into his car. it is a neat car, that you notice. it smells like an ocean breeze, and he has a camera above his steering wheel.

"not for porn," he interrupts your thoughs.

you have forgotten about that side of him. in the moment, it seemed like he was just a normal guy who hooked up with you because he thinks you are cute. in reality, he is probably bored of all those skilled partners and wants something new, so he used you as a little project. you feel hurt, tears gathering in the corner of your eyes as you look out the window. you haven't spared him a single glance, scared that he might be pitiful towards you. that's the last thing you need.

"right, then left?" he asks, steering the wheel with one hand.

"yeah."

it doesn't take long before the car stops in front of a familiar building. you don't see yunho's car, and just then remember that he is sick and resting at home. wooyoung has clouded your mind so much that you don't have any other thoughts, only ones about him.

"thank you for sharing the cupcakes with me." he winks, then unlocks the door.

you aren't ready to say goodbye just yet. if you leave the car, will everything be back the way it was? him acting like he doesn't know you, and vice versa? are you supposed to go in there and order your strawberry mocha from him like it doesn't associate you with today's event?

"wooyoung?"

"yes, angel?"

you play with your fingers in your lap, deciding which words would be the best to make him stay in your life just a little longer.

"can you teach me?"

"teach you?"

"yes. you are so experienced, and i am just a dumb virgin with a big imagination."

he stops to think. he bites the inside of his cheek, and you mimic him.

"i'd destroy you."

you clench around nothing, hearing his raspy voice say such words to you. you know he means them, you saw him mean them. but you are up for it. anything, just to get another taste of him.

"i don't mind."

he sighs, smile still dancing on his lips. "just what are you?"

since the day you had your first orgasm denial, you have heard from him only once, and only because you sent the message first.

i'm not seeing those panties again, right?

wooyoung: nope.

okay

okay? okay??? you could at least put some effort into flirting. you are only pushing him away, instead of inching towards another meeting, this one preferably ending with an orgasm. the notifications about his lives were now regulars on your phone screen, and though you never quite watched them, you like to think he does it for you. slight jealousy has appeared, and you have to stop it before it spreads. but after all, you are the one that has gained his attention.

you decide to visit yunho. he has been sick for quite some time, and has been rarely answering your messages. you have prepared him his favourite soup, and bought his favorite chocolate bar.

"yunnie, you're alive!"

you jump into his arms, forgetting that he might still be weak from being sick. but he catches you effortlessly, a fond smile on his lips as he keeps your body close to him.

"feeling better?"

"almost." he replies, gently setting you down on the floor. "how have you been?"

"bored, honestly. i miss gossiping with you and getting yelled at by other students. oh, turns out mark did cheat on jenna!"

"knew it."

yunho makes his way to the kitchen to grab you a drink and put away the food you brought him, and you can't help but notice how buff he has gotten since the last time you saw him. he was probably well built before too, but you've never seen that man in anything other than oversized t-shirts and hoodies. right now, he is wearing one of those compressive exercise sleeveless tops, every bump and curve visible on his toned body. you notice how big his arms are, and just how tall he is.

you feel familiar warmth between your legs, and you have to sit down to stop any funny business. he is speaking, but all you can do is stare at the way his hands are handling the drinks. his hands are much bigger in comparison to wooyoung, and his physique overall is making you melt right there on his couch.

"so? sound good?"

you look up, pupils dilated and cheeks warm and red. he is confused by your sudden change in expression, before he realizes that you weren't even listening. he sighs, giving up on the weekend trip proposal.

"what is it with you?" the man hands you a glass of apple juice, along with a granola bar he knows you love to steal from his cupboard.

"nothing, why?" you reply too quickly.

he laughs, mixed confusion and amusement. he sits next to you, leaving a little space in between. the way he drops his head back on the backrest and manspreads isn't helping your situation. wooyoung has opened a door that cannot be closed anymore.

fuck, wooyoung.

"you know, i thought i was gonna die. my headache was so bad i heard thumping inside it."

"does it hurt now?"

"not really, no. but i do think i still have a little fever. can you check?"

you lean over on your knees, fingers gently moving his hair out of the way. upon reaching over for the thermometer from the coffee table, you slip between the couch cushions, making yunho jolt and grab your waist. you have to close your eyes for a moment, sensory overload getting the worst of you. your clothes suddenly feel so tight and itchy, his breathing is loud and right there in your ears, and his hands are burning on your skin over the fabric of your top.

"watch it, little one," he says.

you know he means the nickname as a sign of fondness towards you, but in the situation where you're acting like an animal in heat, it is doing wonders to you. knowing that he is big, much bigger than you, and calling you that is making your stomach boil.

you want to make a move. no matter how wrong it would be. you want to lean in and kiss him, make him feel you up and down, make him touch you right here on the couch, where you cuddled and watched movies since knowing each other.

"why are you looking at me like that?" his voice is suddenly raspy.

"like what?" you whisper, afraid of your infamous cracking tone.

"like you want to fuck me."

not far from truth. not exactly fuck, rather just have a little fun to get some heat out of you. his hands never leave your waist, instead pulling your body into his lap. you've been in this position many times, mainly being tickled and begging for mercy. now? you're ready to beg for his tongue on you.

"i-"

a familiar ringtone interrupts you, and you feel him tense up underneath.

"pick it up." he says, lazily looking at you through half closed eyelids.

"uh, yes," you stutter, reaching towards the table to grab your phone.

you almost faint seeing the name on your screen. you don't want to pick up. not now. any other time, yes. but right now? not quite convenient.

"go on, answer it." yunho encourages, not knowing the consequences of his action.

but you do it anyway. what is there to lose? lose yunho, gain wooyoung. and vice versa. how fucking evil of you. acting like a bitch in heat, listening to your pussy instead of your morals.

"yes?" you answer, breath hitching when yunho starts caressing your sides.

"hi, angel."

yunho's touching stops. he is now focused on the male voice coming from your phone, the name of the contact not visible from your hair.

"let me see you tonight? i'll take you out for a ride and a dinner."

"tonight?"

"yes. unless you have plans? i just got my motorcycle back from the auto mechanic, thought i'd show you there's thrilling stuff other than an orgasm denial in a public space."

yunho removes his hands completely from you, but lets you sit on his lap. you witness his face morph from flirty to mixed anger and disappointment, though he is trying very hard to hide it. the red tips of his ears are a dead giveaway, and you wish you could feel guilty.

"i have no plans. the ride sounds nice."

"good girl. i'll pick you up same place i dropped you off the other day, six o'clock?"

"sound good."

"good. i'll see you in around two hours then?"

"yes."

"chatty as usual, i see. i'll get you to talk tonight, no worries."

and with that, he hangs up. it is only then that yunho sits you on the couch next to him, while he stands up. you are numb to his reaction, excitement boiling in your veins in anticipation for tonight.

"do you enjoy hurting me?"

he shoots the first arrow through your heart.

"do you love seeing me suffer? do you enjoy bringing me to tears almost every time we meet?"

you have just uncovered something that has been cooking for a long time, and you know you are at fault. you just fail to feel wrong for it.

"it was fine at the beginning, you showed no signs of interest whatsoever. but now? the last month or two? you are driving me fucking insane."

when yunho starts swearing, you now it is bad.

"and to think that i'd actually have a chance. that you'd open yourself up for me so i can prove to you how well i can treat you. i deserve a global idiot award."

you don't speak. you let him rant, knowing that he would only get worked up more if you spoke. none of the things you had to say were comforting, so being silent was the better option.

"get the fuck out of my house."

it is the first time you see him so angry and aggressive. with full right. so you silently take your belongings, turning your back on him without a proper goodbye.

"and take this with you. i don't need anything from you." he shoves the box you had brought him into your hands.

he looks at you, teary eyed, fighting hard to keep them from spilling. you've never seen yunho cry. ever. of joy? yes. but almost shaking while holding back tears and biting his lips to keep them from quivering? perhaps it's just anger and frustration. either way, you fucked him up. and there's nothing you can do, other than leave him be.

"i hate you."

six o'clock rolls around quite quickly. you stand in front of a motorcycle, quite bigger than you imagined. wooyoung takes his helmet off, then steps off the motorcycle. he examines you, from head to toe, a little puzzled.

"skirt? odd choice, considering that i told you we were using a motorcycle."

wooyoung then pushes your hair back, removing it from your face and letting it fall on your back. he puts the helmet on you, a slight smile on his lips as he secures it.

"you're so fucking cute it hurts. look at you in your skirt and ballerinas."

your cheeks burn from his compliments, your thighs rubbing under the delicate material. wooyoung plays with the ends of the skirt, then slips his hands on your bare skin.

"want to sit at front?" he purrs, gaze gentle and lips turned into a fond smile.

"i actually never... well, this is my first time seeing it up so close."

"so i'm your first motorcycle too? i feel honoured."

"I don't really know how to... you know, anything."

whenever you're around him, your vocabulary becomes very limited and poor. for someone who reads so much, you're struggling quite good with putting together simple sentences.

"your only job is to sit still and be pretty for me. got it?" he cups your face with one hand and gently caresses your jaw with his thumb.

you nod, not trusting yourself with speaking while he touches you in such ways.

"come on now. hop on."

you are sat in front of him, hands trapped under his while gripping the handles. you are stiff, and even if he notices, he doesn't react. he starts off slow, enough to not scare you off immediately. at one point, right at the last traffic light before exiting the city centre, he speeds up, the front of the motorcycle hanging in the air for a split second, but enough to make you gasp and fall back against his chest. you hear him chuckle near your helmet, his hand coming to rest on your hip enough to comfort you.

"i got you," he says, squeezing your hip.

you now lay comfortably against him, enjoying the smooth ride on the highway. you are alone on the road, the opposite direction crowded due to people returning home from work. you haven't felt such thrill ever. the way wooyoung controls the vehicle and smoothly changes lanes, to the way he speeds up and does the wheelie again, this time a little higher, is making you see stars. you scream, but the playful way. adrenaline rushes through your veins, and you are laughing, having the most fun of your life. he isn't saying much, and even if he was, you don't hear him. you feel comfortable in his embrace, trusting him with your life on this silent road lit by neon lights on the fences.

you gasp when you feel his cold fingers on your thigh, the texture odd. you look down, only to see that his other hand has a leather glove on, and is slowly dipping between your legs. he slows down, enough to pay more attention to you without any danger nearby. the cold leather touches your folds near your panties that have slightly moved from the reckless driving. he realises the advantage, and proceeds to rip apart the fabric. you moan at the action, remembering all those worn out pages of your books describing men ripping women's bras and panties. and now, you're a character in that page, hopefully about to have an orgasm of your lifetime.

the cold leather touches you once again, a single finger toying with your soft bud, just enough to have you panting. your head falls on his shoulder, searching for support. he circles your clit, playing with the soft flesh and checking just how wet you are getting.

"want me to stop?" he asks, and when you shake your head, he dips his fingers below your clit.

you flinch at the unfamiliar feeling, not feeling the pleasure anymore. he notices, but tries to enter once again, this time more gentle and slow. you flinch again, your head no longer resting on his shoulder. he removes his hand, gripping the handle again as he slows the vehicle. he stops at the nearby platform, the neon fence lights shining on the stone table and two benches. he gets off the motorcycle, then helps you off too. your ripped panties hit the floor, your folds caressed by the highway breeze. he takes his helmet off, hanging it on one of the handles, then helps you with yours.

you are suddenly hyperaware of the situation you are in. far from the city and people, alone in the dark with still a complete stranger, with nothing but a top and a skirt on. nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. nobody to call.

"shit, hey." wooyoung cups your face, seeing sudden anxiety on it. "do you want me to drive you back?"

you take a moment to think. if he really meant evil, wouldn't he do something by now? he wouldn't comfort you, right? wouldn't offer you a ride back? or is this just a little foreplay for him before he does something to you and leaves you to rot here?

"i mean it," the man caresses your cheeks with his thumbs.

"no, i'm good. i think."

"i am not doing anything until i am sure of it."

"no, no, i really am. i just..." you trail, looking around, "...i am very new to all of this, that's all."

wooyoung takes both of your hands, guiding you towards the stone benches and table. he sits you on the table, and he sits on the bench in front of you. he doesn't break eye-contact with you as he rubs your thighs, slightly squishing the flesh for your comfort and for his pleasure. he doesn't go further though. he gives you time to relax, until your feet start slightly swinging off the table from boredom.

"tell me about yourself."

"like what?"

"anything. just talk. i want to hear you speak. you don't do much of it, and you have such a pretty voice, especially when you make those little moans."

your cheeks are burning, and you can only look down at your hands playing with the hem of your skirt.

"come on, tell me. what do you do except studying and riding pillows these days?"

you want to say that you don't ride pillows, but the playful smile on his lips is too sweet to ruin it.

"i read, like, a lot."

"what genre is your favorite?" the man's voice is now low and raspy, his hands now slowly sliding underneath your knees.

"take a wild guess?"

"erotica?" he laughs.

you laugh with him, not yet aware of his little plan and the reason he brought you to a place far from people.

"well, tell me. what did you learn from it?"

it's like a switch was found on you. wooyoung is taking in every word you are so excitedly giving him, every expression you make as you remember various paragraphs that had you touching yourself late at night, or sometimes in the middle of the day at most random places.

"no way, you touched yourself in your college bathroom?" he is in disbelief.

"believe it or not, it becomes stronger than me. so, yes. multiple times, actually."

"what exactly did you do?" wooyoung asks, genuinely interested.

you have passed the shame barrier. the way he is caressing your skin and so comfortably talking to you about these things have you finally dropping your walls down. not even your friends have made it this far into the conversation without a smart remark or a grimace.

"just, rubbing myself, i guess? ah, i once used a water bottle to do it. it was so hot that day, and my bottle was wet and cold, and my brain just clicked."

wooyoung seems impressed, nodding his head with approval.

"i might have touched myself a little in the last row of the classroom."

"oh?" he is intrigued, mind already picturing you hidden in the last row behind your studying laptop, faking the writing while your other hand played with his new favorite thing in the world. "like this?"

the sudden contact with your clit makes you jolt, a gasp escaping your lips. he spins it in slow circles, much like you in that boring class. you breathe slowly, mouth already running dry from the sight in front of you. wooyoung stares deep into your eyes, tongue wetting his lips, and his hair messy from the highway wind. he looks incredibly good in his leather jacket and the chain necklace. you can hear yourself becoming wet, noises making both of you breathe shallow and feeding your lust drive. you feel exposed under the neon lights, under wooyoung's stare, on the side of the road. yet the pleasure is overpowering everything, and you find yourself shamelessly grinding your hips against his thumb. his confidence is affecting yours, and seeing him not give a single fuck about the location or the passerbies, it is unleashing something inside of you.

"fuck, angel, even your cunt sounds so cute."

you give yourself a moment of bravery, fingers hooking under his chain necklace and pulling his body towards you. your lips touch his, warm plush making your thighs clench. he chuckles against you, then leaves a few pecks on your bottom lip. he tugs it between his teeth, gently biting it and swiping his tongue on it. you give yourself to him, completely at his control, and only follow what he does.

he removes his hand from you, resulting in a whine leaving your mouth. he laughs again, pulling away for a moment.

"patience, baby. you're doing very good."

he kisses you again, his hands snaking around your waist and under your top. he feels your skin, the lace of your bra, plays with the hook, but doesn't undo it yet. he grazes your spine with his trimmed nails, giving you goosebumps. you shiver in his hands, wanting nothing more but to relax in his hands and have him do that to you all night long.

his tongue is restless against yours, gently rubbing against it, teeth accidentally clashing from the passion getting the most out of him. he wants all of you, right here, right now. but he can't have you just yet. like he said, he would destroy you. he can't hold back that much. he almost melts when he feels your fingers gently tug at his hair, your other hand subconsciously resting on his chest. he thinks it's cute how you are at a position above him and higher than him, yet he still has all the control over you. he also thinks it's cute how your legs are still swinging from the stone table, while you kiss him back and try to keep up with him. your kisses are short, your tongue soft, and your hair is tickling his cheeks, a complete opposite of his deep and long kisses, with an occasional teasing bite.

"wooyoung," you mumble, pulling away.

he hums, waiting for you to respond. you rest your forehead against his, taking a moment to breathe normally again.

"i want to cum on your tongue, please?" you ask so sweetly, big eyes staring into his.

"i had something else in mind, though. but i'll see what i can do, since you asked me so nicely."

he isn't sure how he can feel so soft and so hard for someone. you are the first one that is actually taking his time with him and listening to him to make it all more enjoyable. the rest of them wanted it quick, and frequent. he prefers it this way now, with more lust building up, and he knows the result will pay off. maybe you are growing impatient, maybe you'd just smack him right there on the spot, but he is very fixed on his idea, and he loves that you are listening him so patiently.

"lay down for me."

you lay on the cold surface, elbows digging into the uneven stone while they support your upper body so you can look at him. your breath hitches when his hand slides up your body, between your breasts, and up to your lips.

"open up."

and you do, taking his two fingers into your mouth. you swirl your tongue around them, slow, maintaining eye-contact with him. you are pretty sure you're dripping all over the table now, if not all over his pants too. he toys with your tongue for a while, too immersed in the way you're licking him up.

fuck, how good you'd take his cock. he'd push so slow between your glossy lips, which he would coat with his precum, and he would gently test your limits and have you gagging around him. wooyoung stops the train of thoughts before it was too late, and pulls his fingers out of your mouth. he then runs them up and down your slit, toying with the folds more than the clit. you want to groan from frustration, but you have to be patient, just like he said.

he spreads your folds, tongue diving right into the tip of your clit. your fingers reach into his hair, pulling at the dark strands and burying his head deeper into your cunt. he is loving every bit of it, willingly pushing himself deeper between your thighs and squishing them around his head. you hear him suck and lick, setting your heart on fire, and making your blood boil.

"wooyoung-" you gasp, clit abused by his restless muscle.

he only hums against you, lips sucking you slowly but with power. you don't know how loud you are, nor do you care. you let your voice loose, calling out his name, whining, bucking your hips into his mouth, moaning and chasing the orgasm that has already started to pool at the bottom of your stomach.

his fingers let go of your folds, instead focusing on a new place. he toys with your entrance, sending weird sensations through your body. ever so slowly, he pushes one finger inside, making you hold your breath at the uncomfortable feeling.

"that hurts-" you whine, all the pleasure gone.

"you can take it, right? for me?"

you look down at his eyes, the neon lights shining inside them.

"watch," he mumbles, nodding his head towards your drenched pussy.

you do as told, watching as his finger disappears into you, each pump a little less uncomfortable. he curls his finger upwards, unlocking a whole new sensation for you. you moan, more at the sight than the feeling. something about his veiny hand working on you and disappearing so smoothly inside of you is more arousing to you than a whole movie sex scene.

"i'm adding another one, alright?"

you gulp, then nod. you watch him carefully insert two fingers, slowly stretching you out. inch by inch, he fully inserts them, all the way to the knuckles, and stays there for a while.

"atta girl." he says, tone low and raspy, dripping with desire.

"it's too much," you whine, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes.

"just a little more, angel. i promise, it'll feel good." he coos, cupping your jaw with his other hand and caressing your cheek. "can you do that for me?"

you nod, fighting hard to push the tears back. the last thing you want is to turn out a coward, after all those erotica books you've told him about. reading about all that monster porn, fairy porn, and whatnot, yet you can't take two human fingers. pathetic.

"look at you, taking me so well." he praises, moving his fingers at a faster pace now.

you feel your hole stretching for the first time, and you are not sure if the sensation you are feeling is enough to make you cum. you stay still, watching him work on you, and focusing on relaxing your muscles around him. he curls his fingers up again, and another moan escapes your lips. he leans in, just enough to feel you breathe into his mouth. proper moans finally leave your mouth, and you leave all the gasps and shallow breathing behind. you shamelessly moan into his mouth, hands gripping anything they can; from his clothes and chain, to his hair and shoulders. you rock your hips along with his pumps, finally finding a path towards the sweet release. but wooyoung shows no intention of speeding up, even though you tried taking the matter into your own hands. you feel like spilling over any moment now, but the way he switches between slow and slower is driving you crazy.

"shit," he curses, suddenly pulling your body into his lap.

you moan when you sit on his fingers, knuckles trapped deep in your hole. you don't have time to process what is happening, a bright light shining into wooyoung's eyes and your back.

another motorcycle stops beside his, two people your age getting off of it.

"hey, what's up?" the stranger greets, politely waving.

the girl doesn't spare you a glance, but instead opts to stare at wooyoung.

"we're just gonna take a five minute break, sorry to bother you guys." the young man explains.

"that's fine," wooyoung smiles back.

the stranger then leaves behind one of the trees, and the girl takes a seat on the opposite of you two.

"aren't you, like, jung wooyoung?" her voice is pure torture, squeaky and fake.

"uh, yes."

"you have an enormous dick, babe. fuck, i masturbate to you almost every night."

your heart clenches, but apparently, so does your pussy, because wooyoung is quick to give you another stretch of his fingers inside you. you bite your lip, head falling on his shoulder. your back is turned towards the girl, so you cannot see if she is doing anything to get wooyoung's attention away from you. you don't like it.

"glad you enjoy my content," he replies calmly, as if he gets that every day.

maybe he does. and just then, you remember what wooyoung is. he is a cam boy, a porn star. he isn't a guy who took you on a date outside of the city. he is just someone who got tired of fucking experienced people and wants to try something new. you bite the inside of your cheek, tears gathering in your eyes now for a whole different reason.

it's his fault that he's so nice to you. didn't he say he would destroy you? you have developed a crush on him, and you didn't even realize. you need to back off, as soon as possible, before you become one of his toys for views. and with his sweet talk, it could happen without you even processing it first.

"do you do those live fuck invites anymore? i'd love to be your guest sometimes. maybe you know me, i was at top five performers last month?"

"ah, rosiedesires?" he is quick to answer.

his fingers slowly move, and you have to bury your head into his neck to keep yourself from making any noise. he smells heavenly, the scent of musk making you a little dizzy. you don't realize you are panting and whining, until he leans down to your ear.

"be good." he whispers with a little stern tone, nuzzling his nose into your cheek and leaving a quick peck there. if his fingers weren't up your pussy right now, you would've felt butterflies.

you don't know if he is mad at you, or if it's just a part of his play. either way, as bad as you are feeling, you don't want him to stop. you want him to make you cum, so that you can leave and cut all communication with him. you'll manage on your own without him, and there's still yunho. well, was. but knowing his feelings for you, he'll be quick to make up with you.

"friday night sound good?"

"yes, of course. perfect! can't wait, our followers are gonna be so excited."

did he just make a dick appointment while his fingers are deep inside of you? while you are holding back tears on his shoulder? while you are almost biting off the inside of your cheek?

"but wait, i don't do taken people. is that your partner or something?"

"ah no, that's just my coworker. he drives me home every night, we live in the same building. and uh, that..." she trails, probably pointing at you, "...is not your girlfriend?"

"no, no, of course not. she's also someone i've met on the site."

someone i've met on the site.

of course, what else did you think? that he was also falling in love with you? how stupid. now you know how yunho felt. you know exactly how he felt, when you made him feel dumb for having a one sided love. though, this isn't love yet, but still.

"shy, i see. hello, do you speak?"

the way she is talking to you is making you feel humiliated and small. as if you're an alien, asking if you speak.

"whore." you mumble.

"what?" she asks, confusion evident in her voice.

you finally raise your head, cheeks puffed and eyes red. wooyoung finally sees how bad he fucked up, and his heart breaks a little at the sight.

maybe it was just the sexual frustration. maybe it was the anger. maybe the disappointment. or maybe just the way she chewed that gum and looked at you like you were a piece of shit on the side of the road. whatever it was, it gave you enough of confidence to repeat yourself.

"whore."

"you stupid bitch," she scoffs, and you almost laugh when you see red lipstick smeared on her teeth as she calls you more names.

"openly talking about fucking a random guy and then getting offended by a single word? fucking weirdo." the words are quicker than your mind, and you feel wooyoung's fingers leaving you and instead gripping your waist.

"listen here, you fucking prude, i will fuck you up-"

"alright, let's take you home." wooyoung interrupts. "rosie, i'll reach out to you these days."

"sure thing, baby."

not so gentle anymore, wooyoung hands you the helmet. the change in his behaviour in front of a different woman is baffling to you. you feel like throwing up, and dropping right there in the middle of the road. anger is building up inside of you, enough for you to push the helmet back into his hands.

"put that on." he orders, brows knitted.

"no." you spit out.

"i will not repeat myself." his tone lowers, yet his gaze darkens.

"you don't have to." you strike back, not aware of the consequences building up.

"do you want to fucking hurt yourself? put this on right now, before i put it on for you."

fear creeps into your body, slow, and grows more with each second that passes and his gaze stays on you. you gulp, suddenly finding yourself in a mental conflict. you do not want to go with him. you want to stay here, curl up under the table and cry until morning, and mourn that little hope you had left and that he crushed. yet he is your only way home. but it is such a long drive, and you don't have the energy to be near him.

so you turn your back, and start walking towards the city lights.

"and just what do you think you are doing?" wooyoung grabs your elbow, pulling your body against his.

"leave me be."

"i asked, what do you think you are doing?" he asks again, gaze not softening.

"i am going home."

"you're-"

"jung wooyoung," you say through gritted teeth," i. am. going. home."

and with that, you start your way to the distant skyscrapers. it hurts you that only two minutes after, two motorcycles pass by you, one of them very familiar. he only spares you a glance through the mirror, then speeds up and disappears.

finally, you cry. loud sobs, chest heavy and body shaking. you drag your legs for what seems like hours, yet the buildings remained the same. you pull out your phone, searching through contacts. nobody is close enough with you for you to call them and pick you up. except your only fast dial, yunho.

what is there to lose? you've reached the bottom anyways.

it takes only two rings for him to pick up, and you fail to greet him. instead, a sob leaves your mouth.

"tiny?" he calls, voice concerned.

"can you please come get me?"

to say that yunho was furious would be an understatement. you haven't told him anything yet, but it was enough to find you sitting alone on a bench outside of the city, on a road where prostitutes and dealers often met, with ripped panties laying on the floor.

his heart is tight, and he feels his throat closing as he approaches you. dark lines decorate your puffed cheeks, the makeup you always so happily put on now a fluid disaster. you run into yunho's arms, finally warm and secure. he buries his noise into your hair, leaving kisses on top of your head as he rubs your back. he knows what to do when you're upset, and you are grateful for that. you need silent support, no questions, no getting you to talk, just someone's presence and comfort. you finally look into his eyes, and just when you thought you cried it all out, you start sobbing again.

"it's okay." he assures you, cupping your face.

"can i stay-" you hiccup, your lungs having a hard time to balance breathing and speaking, "can i-"

you sob again, frustrated because you can't form a sentence. you feel like ripping your hair out because of your stupidity.

"you can stay at my place," yunho understands, gently guiding you towards his car and opening the back door for you.

"no, no-"

"there's more space for you to lay down. trust me, you'll be comfortable."

"i want the front."

"but-"

"please."

yunho doesn't immediately drive to his place. he drives past the highway exits for the city, and you are too tired to question it. you fight to stay awake, but the burning sensation of your eyes is making it quite difficult. every now and then, yunho glances at you, making sure you're alright and comfortable. you have your seat pushed back, and your body turned towards him. it makes you feel safer when you open your eyes and see him in front of you.

the lights are fading, allowing the moonlight to take over and illuminate yunho's face. has he always been this pretty?

you're skipping classes, opting to stay in yunho's bed instead. you're rotting in his room, only watching him come and go. he has a job, and classes to attend, and by the time he finally gets home, you are fast asleep. the food he so carefully prepares you stays cold on the counter, flies getting to it before you do. it is making him sad, seeing you in such a state. you didn't speak of that night, and he didn't want to ask in case you go further into your shell.

today was no different. you are awoken by his alarm, then him tossing and turning on his side. he is careful to leave a distance between you two, even when he is asleep. you feel the warmth leave the space behind your back, then hear footsteps. you hear shuffling, and you open your eyes to see what he is wearing today.

he wears a plain white t-shirt, black ripped jeans, and a leather jacket. the weather is still confusing, and you are glad you don't have to tell him to bring a jacket with him. he also wears his signature boots, sitting on your side of the bed as he puts them on.

"yuyu?" you call.

"yes, sweetheart?"

"when are you coming home today?"

he stays silent. you think he doesn't hear you, so you repeat. yunho sighs.

"i don't have classes today. and i have a day off."

"oh," is all you can say. you aren't sure if it's a sound of disappointment or surprise. either way, you are not thrilled.

"i'll be back in a few hours."

he doesn't look at you. instead, he stands up, picking up his bag and house keys. you finally sit up straight, blanket still wrapped around you.

"where-" you clear your throat, voice coming out raspy and cracking, "-where are you going?"

"a date."

yunho finally spares you a glance, one enough to let you know that he grew tired of you playing with his emotions, and is tired catering to you when all of his efforts have gone to waste.

"there's food in the fridge if you get hungry. i'm having breakfast outside."

then there you are, again in the dark room, alone with your thoughts. you think about both of them. yunho, who has been by your side for so long, and has respected your boundaries despite his strong feelings. and wooyoung, who is there just a few weeks, yet has such a strong impact on you. you feel discarded by both sides. yunho? justified. wooyoung? not as much.

yes, he is just a porn star. yes, you may be delusional. and yes, he might fuck other people. but the urge in you to feel him just one more time, to let him teach you so you can be good enough for someone you truly care about, is burning inside of you.

bullshit. you want to be good enough for him. you have always been way more intrigued by things you cannot have. wooyoung is an unattainable goal, something you can only dream of having. then again, what do you actually want with him? you only know him sexually, you know nothing about him as a person. you only crave him physically, while you crave yunho emotionally.

but you can't have both, and the way the tables have turned, you are left with neither.

the day is slow, and the sun is going down with the tiktoks on your phone screen. when you feel your stomach tighten and growl, you finally glance at the room around you. it is dark, it smells like old clothes, and the lack of fresh air starts suffocating you. yunho's washed, unironed work clothes sit on his gaming chair, waiting to be ironed by him. it would have been done long time ago, if you didn't take up his whole room.

you switch between the apps, from tiktoks to reels, to youtube shorts, then back to reels. you've seen every video possible, not a single one funny anymore. you feel numb. your stomach is giving you signals, which you so successfully ignore. much like your bladder. it is hitting your ovaries, causing indescribable pain, yet you choose to lay there and mourn over your will to live. you return to the instagram homepage, and when you see yunho's icon in the stories, you just have to click it. when you do, you see him posing with a young woman your age, at the breakfast place you used to visit the first year of college. he has ordered his usual, you notice. and she has ordered yours.

he looks genuinely happy, his smile wide, and his eyes squinted. his arm is wrapped around her shoulders, and the other one holds the phone taking the picture. she is busy holding his face in her hand, lightly squishing his cheeks, just like you like to do.

"fuck me." you groan, then shut your phone off.

as if a switch has clicked inside of you, you run to the bathroom, eager to end your suffering. it takes you less than half an hour to take a shower, put on clean clothes, and do the basic skin care you have ignored for a few days now. you use yunho's expensive products, of course. he won't mind as long as he doesn't know you used them.

by the time the sun sets, the room looks brand new. you have put on new sheets, dusted the shelves, vacuumed the floor, and even ironed his clothes and neatly put them in the closet. the messy notes on his desk were now waiting for him in the drawer, with an attached pink note from you of the solution to the math problem he has been trying to solve on four pages now.

in the kitchen, you fish for ingredients. you decide to make his favorite for when he comes home, to at least thank him somehow for giving you comfort and support these days.

what time do you think you are coming?

yunho: around half an hour to an hour, i think. why?

i am making dinner, i didn't want to start early so it doesn't get cold.

you see the three dots on his screen popping up a few times, then disappearing. you set the phone aside, focusing on the garlic and onion in the pan so they don't get burnt. he loves your pasta bolognese, and won't eat it anywhere but from you. special flavor, he says. you don't have the heart to tell him that you just add in one more spice that the restaurants don't. you don't want to break the little tradition of you making pasta late at night for the two of you.

your phone pings, twice.

wooyoung has started a live! tap to watch.

yunho: i'm not coming for dinner. sorry x

and it's all it takes. really, that's all.

it takes less than five minutes for you to shut off the stove, then settle in the freshly made bed, yunho's boxers already pooling at your ankles. you realize how pathetic you look, getting ready to touch yourself to a guy that left you on the side of the road, in your best friend's bed. but to be fair, you were stubborn too. maybe you just didn't expect him to let you go so easily. maybe you expected him to stay back and comfort you, say sorry because of his harsh actions. or at least reach out to you afterwards. but no, jung wooyoung kept his distance. you checked the messages, regularly. not even an online tag from him. nothing.

until now.

wooyoung has started a live with rosiedairies! tap to watch.

your stomach tightens. is it friday already? time for that dick appointment. your finger hovers over the notificaton, mind working hard to figure out whether or not you can handle looking at something like that. you convince yourself that you can. it's just sex. it's not like you've never seen it before.

your finger taps the notification, and your screen take up two naked bodies, already going at it. it isn't hot at all. you could swear that all your arousal has dried up within two seconds.

wooyoung has the camera showing her face as she stays in doggy position and only his lower body is visible behind her, hips snapping harshly into hers. it doesn't look real. it look so staged and fake, ugly and raw. but she seems to love it, judging by the way her eyes roll to the back of her head and the noises overpowering the ones of skin clapping. wooyoung pulls her hair, and even though you've fantasized about that too, it isn't quite like this. all that hair pulling in your fanfics and books was indeed harsh, but still with a note of passion and love. this? this was pure pain.

"harder, harder-" she chokes, seductively looking at the camera.

what she asks, wooyoung delivers. the grip on her waist makes her skin white, likely to leave bruises afterwards. he picks up the camera, angling it on her bottom and his pelvis. the sight isn't a turn on for you, but you notice the condom, the bruises on her skin, and the scratch marks on his body. the people in the comment section are going feral, giving him orders on what to do to her, on what they'd like to do to him, and sending lots of money. you're grossed out, and just when you are about to exit the site, you hear the front door shut.

you pull the boxers up, jumping out of the bed and making it. you lock your phone, throwing it on the nightstand, before rushing to the bathroom and shutting the door. you hear footsteps, and not double ones like you expected. you fix your hair in the mirror, trying for that i woke up like this look.

"it's me," he announces while entering the room.

"back already?"

"wow."

you fail to hide the smile because of his reaction. he was probably expecting to find you laying under a blanket with your phone on full volume, like he did for the past few days. you didn't even take care of yourself, let alone help him with chores. you wanted to redeem yourself, at least a little bit.

you exit the bathroom as nonchalantly as you can, as if you didn't just do a 180° in the time he was out. he looks even more dashing than when he left. his hair is messy and skin glowing, and his lips have that red tint that suits him so well.

"how was your date?"

"it was great," he avoids your gaze while scratching his neck, "we're going on a second one sunday evening. making it fancy this time."

"that's so awesome! i'm happy for you."

your acting is so convincing, it has yunho feeling disappointed with your behaviour. sure, you wouldn't be jealous. but wouldn't you be bothered at least a little bit? a random girl entering your lives and taking up his free time instead of you, and you are happy?

"what do you say we go out for breakfast tomorrow, and i'll tell you everything?" he tests the grounds.

"sounds wonderful." you don't drop your guard.

you forget that yunho doesn't know the actual situation with wooyoung. so when he stops in front of the coffee shop the next morning and holds the door open for you, you rather enter than make a fuss out of it. you slide into your usual seat, letting yunho take the orders. the familiar man exits the pantry, smile dropping when he sees his next costumer. he immediately searches for your figure in the seating area, and upon finding you, he fails to hide a smile. you, on the other hand, don't. you stand your ground, poker face on and emotions on standby. for now.

"iced americano and a strawberry mocha?"

"yes," yunho confirms, "extra-"

"extra syrup, whipped cream, pearls. got it."

yunho looks annoyed, but doesn't say anything. he almost throws the money at wooyoung, tells him to keep the change, then joins you at the table.

you finally take a good look at him. each day, he is getting more attractive in your eyes. did he always dress this handsomely? was he always this tall?

"you like my coat?" he laughs, noticing your stare.

"well, yes. suits you. the turtleneck too. when did you get a fashion sense?"

"i've got to attract the ladies somehow." yunho jokes, then becomes serious once he sees wooyoung approaching with the beverages.

the cup is placed in front of you, and right away, you see a difference. knowing that you'll let it slide, yunho decides to speak for you.

"pearl sprinkles. not this rainbow puke."

"i only have rainbow puke." wooyoung scoffs, throwing the paper straws on the table. "drink it, or don't. i don't care."

"you should've told me that when i ordered." yunho keeps pushing, and the tension between the two is making you squirm in the chair.

"well guess what?" wooyoung leans in, one hand on the table, the other on the back of your chair. his face is inches away from yours, eyes fixed on your widened ones.

"get away from her, that's highly unprofessional."

"if she minded, she would've said something," the barista looks over at yunho for a split second, then returns his gaze on you, "but she doesn't mind, do you, darling?"

stuck between not wanting to hurt yunho, and wanting to subconsciously submit to wooyoung, you remain silent. wooyoung stays in the position for what seemed like hours, even though it was mere three seconds of it, then finally takes his position behind the counter.

"right, forgot he's your new boyfriend," the man on your opposite scoffs and takes a sip of his beverage.

"he's not-"

"kiyomi will be here any minute, by the way. can't wait for you to meet her."

"woah, is she okay with meeting me so soon? i mean, your first date was yesterday?"

he shrugs, glancing at his phone, "i don't see why not. you're just a friend. it's not like you're a relative or someone closer."

ouch.

"right," you clear your throat.

as promised, she arrives, breaking the silence and interrupting yunho's twitter scrolling. she's pretty, just like on the picture. the moment she sits next to him and starts talking, you see she is obsessed with him. she is joyful, talkative, optimistic, everything that you currently aren't. you notice wooyoung looking over multiple times, but what you don't notice is the way yunho is examining your face, looking for any clues of jealousy or discomfort.

you seem unaffected, and it makes his heart ache. just what does he have to do to get to you? getting a girl just to experiment didn't work, and now he has to either let the poor girl go or keep fueling her hopes and leave her later, until he gets a reaction from you. yumho hates himself for doing that. but yunho hates you too, as much as he loves you. you break his heart every day, but every time you look at him, you put it back together so easily. he wants to kiss you, as much as he wants to push you away from himself. he is lost in his own emotions, and doesn't know what he wants anymore.

"excuse me, i'll be right back."

"where are you going?" yunho betrays himself, asking you too quickly.

"toilet. wanna come?" you try to lighten the situation with a joke, seeing his date tense up at his reaction.

"ah no, thanks. gross. you go enjoy yourself. don't fall in." he joins in the joke, also taking notice of his partner's body language.

you enter the toilet, ignoring the cash register where wooyoung has busied himself with typing something on the screen. the you in the mirror looks like she is mocking you, your clothes and your behaviour. you've put on the newest dress you had, and you don't even know for who. both of them? you like yunho's soft lingering gaze on you, yet you enjoy the way wooyoung looks a second away from devouring you on that table. it's a simple long sleeved dress, really, paired with knee-high boots yunho had bought you for christmas.

the door swings open, bumping into you and pushing you against the wall. you only catch a glimpse of the familiar apron, before the man cups your face and presses his lips on yours. you are taken aback, body frozen against the cold tiles. wooyoung holds your face gently, lips moving slow as to not scare you off more.

"i'm sorry, i'm so fucking sorry," he whispers against your lips, pecking them a few times before apologizing again.

"wooyoung-"

"please, let me make it up to you. i don't care what that cunt outside says, i don't believe him anyway, just let me make it up to you."

you're having a hard time thinking rationally. do you really trust him enough to not hurt you again? fuck, but his lips feel so good. but oh, how yunho's hugs feel like home.

but nobody has ever shown desire the way wooyoung does.

yet nobody has more patience for you than yunho.

"you're thinking too much. let me fix that."

your lips are trapped by his once again, this time more rhythmic. you give into the touch, erasing the man outside completely from your mind.

"you're so sweet."

you hum against his lips, hands tugging at his white ironed shirt, the first two buttons separated as always.

"so cute." kiss. "so pretty." kiss. "so adorable." kiss. "so perfect."

you're not sure where it is going, but you do not complain. you do not complain when he lifts you on the counter near the sink either, flipping your dress up and ripping your panties again. you feel your core tighten, and you think you'll just never get enough of the picture of him ripping your clothes apart.

"let me make you melt on my tongue. please, god, I need it. i so desperately need you, all of you."

"here?" you ask, glancing at the door.

"here, out there, in the pantry, at your place, my place, everywhere. i'd take you to the roof if you told me to."

"anyone could walk in-"

you gasp mid sentence, cold metal pressing against your clit. wooyoung intentionally rubs your folds with his knuckles, giving you the cold sensation of his rings. your head rests against the mirror, hips already grinding into his hand.

loosing his patience, wooyoung sinks to his knees, your legs resting over his shoulders. he dives in, like it's his last meal. he licks hot stripes up your clit, pointy part of his tongue flicking the tip of it. you moan each time he does so, feeling your bud already becoming abused.

while he usually takes his time with you, today he is quick to separate your legs and go feral on you. his tongue is quick, so quick that it has you shaking uncontrollably against his mouth. you're shuddering, begging, pulling at his hair, all at once. a blabbering mess, as he eats you like there's no tomorrow. he dips his tongue into your arousal, letting out a moan of satisfaction.

"can i please cum?" you ask, knowing that he never lets you. why would today be different?

"no, no. not yet." he moves away, standing up and getting back to your face. "it needs to be special."

"it's just an orgasm, how special can it be?"

"mine always are, believe me. i want to be your first real one. i want you to remember it." wooyoung says as he continues to caress your cheeks with his thumbs.

the action is affectionate, as if he just confessed to having a crush on you and didn't just eat you out. funny how every time you meet him, you end up getting absolutely devoured by him in ways that you didn't even read about. he is passionate about it, to the point that it makes you think that he does it for his own pleasure.

"come over to my place."

"what?" your voice comes out louder than you wanted it.

"my place. i'll take good care of you. give you what you deserve."

you don't have time to reply, he is pulling you off the sink and disappearing into a stall. a quick glance in the mirror is enough to make your hands shoot up to your hair, straightening it and fixing the smeared mascara on the corner of your eyes.

"hey?"

yunho's head peeks inside, scanning the room. he sees you alone, and immediately feels at ease.

"yes, yunho?"

"i just got worried, you've been here for a while." he admits.

"so you left your date alone?" you can't bear to look him in the eyes, not when you just finished messing with the person he saved you from the other night.

"to be truthful, i saw that shitass barista disappear somewhere, and i thought he came after you. i'd hate to think that something happened to you and i was sitting just outside."

you appreciate his truthfulness, and don't have the heart to tell him just how weak to your instincts you are.

"don't worry, i'm good. let's go."

wooyoung: it's been almost a week

wooyoung: you don't think about me at all?

wooyoung: my offer, i mean. not me.

you don't know if you're being delusional, but you feel like the tables have turned. which is why you have reached out to another friend, one that doesn't have feelings for you and won't try to sabotage, well, whatever this is.

"honestly, from all these messages, you have unknowingly made him chase you. notice how you don't say much and he comes back texting you multiple times?" choi san is quick to explain, using his own flirting skills to decipher the conversation.

he lays on his stomach on your bed, pillow under it and legs swinging in the air. his freshly dyed blonde hair is a dry mess, struggling to hold onto his scalp. you wonder why his job requires him to ruin himself this much.

"now what do i do?"

"well, luckily for you, your lack of communication is what got you an advantage here. let's face it, you're dry as fuck."

"thanks."

"welcome. anyways, in your case, that's good. see? instead of giving up and leaving, he keeps coming back to you. and eating your pussy every time you two meet? are you kidding me? that man is obsessed with you."

at the mention of him eating you, your thighs clench, almost feeling his tongue down there. it is driving you crazy, having so much pleasure yet not reaching the peak. he is torturing you, on purpose.

wooyoung: i'll make you cum so hard you'll never wish for anyone but me

wooyoung: and that's a promise.

two new messages light up your phone, san grabbing it before you can. he covers his mouth, eyes wide as he reads the messages over and over. he unlocks the phone, and begins typing.

"no!"

"i'm doing you a favor!" he exclaims, running around the room and still typing.

you hear the sending sound, and your face heats up. he throws the phone on your bed, and sits right next to you.

"what have you done?"

"see for yourself. that, my dear, is called not being dry."

bold of you to think that i'll only wish for you

"that doesn't sound like me at all! you blew it!"

you are quick to bury your face in a pillow, already mourning all this time you've spent and regretting inviting san to help. but when another notification decorates your screen, you almost jump.

wooyoung: why don't you come over for a demostration?

"you do realize that if you go, you might lose your v-card?"

"i know."

"and you're sure that's the person you want to do it with?"

"yes."

he believes you as much as you believe yourself. you always thought your first time would be somewhere romantic, pre-planned, with the person you love and loves you back. not in the apartment of a porn star. and not with someone that only knows your name.

"you know, my heart really hurts for yunho."

"i invited you to avoid him. why are you bringing him up?" your fierce tone takes him aback, and it takes you aback too, you just manage to not show it.

"wow." san exhales.

"sorry, just- it's none of your business."

"how is it none of my business? i mean, i tried to not get involved, even came here to help you hook up with a complete stranger and help you throw away the best thing that can and will happen to you. i introduced you to yunho, knowing full well on his harmless little crush on you, and knowing full well that you were perfect for him. only to have you-"

"wait a minute, you can't guilt trip me into liking him."

the man in front of you is baffled with your reply, and you feel like you're not looking at one of your close friends anymore. now, you are looking at yunho's best friend, almost his younger brother. you forgot that before you, there was the two of them.

"someone seriously needs to fuck that attitude right out of you. you're acting like an animal in heat."

"well i'm fucking trying to!"

"well you're trying the wrong fucking way!"

"do not tell me who and how to fuck!"

the phone is pinging on your bed, not helping the situation at all. san is looking more disappointed than angry, his eyes becoming scarily dark.

"the fuck do you even know about fucking?"

"i know enough." you don't drop your guard.

san takes a step towards you, examining your face. then another, and another, until you are pushed in the corner of your room with him towering over you. there is nothing attractive about it in this situation, and you wish

"you may know about fucking, but you don't know shit about loving."

"shut up," is the only thing you manage to say, biting back tears.

"i am not guilt tripping you to like or love anyone, but the least you could do is let him down gently and stop playing push and pull with him. giving him hope, then shattering him right after it? not quite moral in my book."

"look, i'm in a difficult situation. i just- i like them both."

choi san laughs, sarcastically. he doesn't find it funny. he just doesn't know how to respond anymore.

"you don't like them both. you like wooyoung, and want to keep yunho as a backup."

"excuse-?"

"save it. i don't even know why i came here, helping you hurt my friend. you have started thinking with your pussy more than your brain, and you're losing people because of it. if you're horny, watch fucking porn."

with that, he grabs his leather jacket off your bed, and storms outside. you are feeling frustrated, angry, and sad. he is right, you know it. but you don't want to admit it. because somehow, in your head, if you don't admit it, it isn't like that. ignoring a problem makes it go away. simple as that.

you want to keep yunho, and his love, and his affection, but you want a taste of wooyoung so bad. so bad that your clit aches when you open his messages, yearning for his cold fingers and hot tongue.

wooyoung: do you like movies?

wooyoung: i thought we could watch the live adaptation of that book you like reading

wooyoung: what was it again?

wooyoung: if you want to, of course

wooyoung has sent a picture! tap to view.

you stop breathing for a moment, thinking of all the things you could expect in that image. you breathe out when you open it, seeing a pullout sofa and a blanket on it, along with snacks and two bottles of soda.

wooyoung: i'd be happy if you joined me :)

why, rosie unavailable?

wooyoung: i'm gonna go ahead and ignore that, for the sake of both of us

whatever that means

why are you the one sabotaging yourself now? yunho isn't here, and san has left too. then why?

wooyoung: it means that i don't like it when people mock what i do

wooyoung: and when people mock me, i become angry

wooyoung: and angry and horny don't go well together

wooyoung: unless you want to put it to test?

wooyoung angry fucking you? you grimace. would it be the kind of sex he did in his last live with that rosie girl? if yes, you are feeling very turned off right now. he must've sensed the lack of replying on your side, and is quick to respond again.

wooyoung: can't help it, sorry

wooyoung: just come over and we can hang?

your phone pings, sending you a message with a different name on top.

choi san: bet his new live will bring him a fortune. who else has taken someone's virginity live on a porn site?

what the fuck are you on about? there's no live.

choi san: that's what you think

choi san: or that's what he'll make you think

choi san: unless he convinces you to willingly do it

he wouldn't. would he? wooyoung who has asked you before each contact whether you're sure, or whether you're feeling nervous. wooyoung who already had his hands on your tits, and still wanted to ask if you're sure. he wouldn't secretly film you. he wouldn't.

what do you consider a hang? and why?

wooyoung: just hang? watch that movie and talk?

wooyoung: because

wooyoung: idk

wooyoung: you're so stiff and awkward yet i wanna know more about you and see you

wooyoung: i guess i want to be the one to unstiff you?

wooyoung: NOT LIKE THAT

wooyoung: i dropped my cool guy vibe just like that

wooyoung: look at me texting you multiple times in a row

wooyoung: i've never ever done that in my life for anyone

wooyoung: so...?

so san was right. you did unintentionally make him chase you. played hard to catch without even knowing it. you have a whole porn star folding for you, and offering you all you ever wanted. or at least you think you wanted.

ping!

yunho: hey just wanted to ask if everything is alright?

yunho: sorry if i somehow hurt you

yunho: you seem a little distant, and i know it might be because of the kiyomi situation, but i promise i care about you so much

yunho: if you want you can come over and we can make that pasta together?

yunho: i also want to talk to you

yunho: properly

it's now or never.

you gonna pick me up or?

you sit in the familiar car, the smell of it relaxing you. he knows how to make scents work and not make them literally bite your nose. you take a good look at him. he wears a simple short sleeved black t-shirt, along with grey ripped jeans and black boots. his hair is a little messy, but it only adds up to his look. every time you see him, you forget just how good he looks.

"angel?"

"wooyoung?"

he laughs, eyes not moving off the road.

"are you okay?"

"yes." you simply reply, shifting your attention to the surrounding houses.

you don't speak the rest of the way, just enjoying his humming and wheel tapping. it isn't uncomfortable silence. at least not for you. you can also hear faint vibrations coming from your phone in your bag, and you know exactly who they belong to.

"whoever that is, they sure are persistent." wooyoung comments.

"sorry. i'll shut it off."

"oh, no. please. i was just noticing."

you finally take the phone out, screen bombarded with his notifications. just when you wanted to clear the notification tab, he calls, and you click the green phone.

"shit."

"hello?"

wooyoung glances at your phone, eyebrows furrowed. he keeps driving, not saying a word.

"hey, yunho, now is not a good time-"

"it never is lately anyway. listen, i will just say what i wanted to like this."

"yunho, no-"

"i love you. i don't even think about the words like or crush anymore, i know, i'm sure, that i love you. and i know you're slipping away from me, and i know there's no way to stop it."

you stare at wooyoung, who is carefully listening to the voice coming from your device. you are shaking, thoughts running wild. you are becoming more aware of your feelings towards yunho, and aware about the situation you are putting yourself in. you are on your way to shatter everything you've ever had with him, and everything you could've had with him. for just a taste of what seemed to only exist in your mind.

"i won't blame you if you go with him. i'm just afraid of you getting hurt, maybe worse than that night. and this time i might not be around to fix it. i do not have the energy anymore. i'm sorry."

san was right about this too, and you hate him for it. all this time you subconsciously kept yunho as a backup. you've convinced yourself that he isn't your type, and you did so good at it. until now.

"i'm not saying you should respond to any of my feelings, but it would've been nice if you came to me and said something along the lines of "sorry yunho, i don't think we will ever be what you want us to be" instead of luring me in and pushing me around. calling me when you need it, then ignore me when you get what you want. i hate that i love you, and i hate that i have to humiliate myself like this every damn time. but i promised myself this would be my last. unless you really wish to discuss all of this properly, and whether or not you want our friendship to continue despite all this. tonight is your last chance. i am speaking to you as a friend now. i want to know where i stand."

you are speechless. he has touched the darkest spot in your heart. that dusty corner reserved for love. the kind of love san accused you of not knowing. how are you supposed to respond when there is a whole man next to you, a man who has also asked you to hang and talk tonight?

"i'll wait until midnight. if you don't show up, that will also help me know where i stand. but then, know that you might not hear from me anymore."

the phone call ends just in time when wooyoung pulls up in his parking spot. he silently exits, opening the door for you. still overwhelmed by the one sided conversation that just happened, you remain seated.

"if you're going to be sulky like that, i will just drive you to him." wooyoung offers, annoyance clear in his tone.

you feel a little irritated for his lack of empathy. but who would empathize with such an awful person like yourself? wooyoung sighs, then crouches in front of the open door on your side.

"you can't sit on two stools at a time, angel. i understand that emotions are hard, and love is complicated. right now, i am offering you something simple, and something harmless. i am not looking for love, i think. i just want to help you discover, and i want to discover you."

not looking for love, that you know. but it feels different hearing it out loud. the i think part right after it went right over your head, only adding to the you really are dense agenda.

"yunho is offering you commitment. real love. something i'm not quite capable of giving you, or anyone. i think with my dick, and he thinks with his heart. that creates a problem for you, because you want to be loved, but you also want a dick to make you stop thinking."

you aren't sure if he is dirty talking, or if this is just the way he speaks about these things. you finally look at him. his hand reaches for yours, gently guiding you out of the car.

"you can sit down and think inside."

but there was not much thinking. you were quick to lay on top of wooyoung, entirely relaxed in his arms as his nails grazed the skin of your thighs. non sexually. just innocent pleasure and the movie playing in the back. but you can't relax all the way, because you know where tonight will lead. you squirming under wooyoung's touch, the only emotions present being lust and yeaerning. you liked yunho. you really did. but the way wooyoung handles you is not like any other. you need to have it, at least one more time.

"you're not watching the movie."

"i know."

"then what are you doing?"

"thinking."

wooyoung sighs. his hands halt on your waist, then help you sit up on his lower stomach as he stays laying down.

"be honest with me. what exactly do you want? i won't judge you."

"i don't know." you lie.

"let me try a different approach. what do you want with me? be completely raw, so we can both know where we stand."

and you do just that. tell him all about your desires, about the feeling of lust which you've mistaken as a crush towards him, about loving how desirable you are feeling when it comes to him, and everything that comes to your mind. he listens, slowly nodding his head as you speak.

"i guess i want to have a little fun with no commitment before the, you know, actual commitment."

"i understand. now, what do you want with yunho?"

"everything."

you do want everything with him. from the kisses he is dying to offer you to whatever kinkery he has hidden behind those shiny eyes. yunho is a man every girl wants, including you, yet he only has heart eyes for you. and you'd be stupid to let that go.

"then go for it."

"see, the thing is- i already got a taste of you. and i want closure. i want to finally get that orgasm you've been delaying for so long."

wooyoung nods, eyebrows a little scrunched. he is focused on putting a stray hair behind your ear, and when that hair refuses to obey him over and over again, he huffs, and finally gives your sentence attention.

"we need to discuss first. what kind of orgasm are we talking?"

"what do you mean?"

"well, now that you've finally come to terms with your feelings towards that yunho dude, taking your v-card is off the table?"

"yeah, i guess." you shrug, as if it was just a hug you were talking about.

"just to warn you, it hurts like hell."

"that i know. thanks."

"he can reach out to me for some tips if he wants. just saying."

"got it."

he smiles, then proceeds.

"filming is off the table?"

"uh-"

"just asking, not forcing. if we are going to do simple oral and, or, fingering, then you know... i'd maybe like some footage. at least for me to enjoy sometimes."

come to think of it, it is risky, and it is something that you wouldn't do ever again when or if you become yunho's partner. this is maybe a once in a lifetime opportunity, and you don't want to waste it.

"i'll give you back by midnight, baby." he winks.

"okay." you agree.

you feel your heart beat faster, and louder. you have just agreed to be filmed, in a stranger's house, touched by that same stranger, and the video will be up for so many people to see. so what? you'll ask him to blur or cut the face out of the frame. simple as that.

"come on then."

the young man stands up, giving you his open hand. little do you know that the gaze you're giving him from below him on that couch is making his pants feel very tight.

you accept his hand, and allow him to lead you to his room. your eyes land on the bed. the very same bed and pillows where he filmed that live, and many other lives after that. wooyoung then gently pushes you towards the bed, hands grazing your waist while his eyes admire your outfit. it looks so easy to take off.

he carefully pushes you on the bed, and you swear you've never felt a mattress so soft. he climbs on the bed, hovering over you and giving you one more head to toe scan.

"so pretty." he whispers.

"thank you." you say, not knowing what else to do.

he laughs, then leans in to give you a kiss sweeter than those cake pops you used to eat throughout your whole high school. he kisses you again, again and again, until you start yearning for more. you reach for his shoulders, hair, neck, anything to make him deepen the kiss and give you one of his passionate ones. he takes his time, playing with your bottom lip and tugging it between his teeth.

"patience." he instructs, then untangles your hands from his hair.

he reaches towards the nightstand. the same nightstand from which he pulled that clear toy out that night you discovered him. instead of something crazy, he pulls a single piece of long fabric. the fabric is shiny and pink, with lace decorating it.

"you trust me?"

"completely."

"that's a good girl." he kisses your forehead before putting the silk over your eyes. "raise your head for me a little bit."

you do as told, enough so he can tie it up behind your head. he adjusts your hair, letting it fall over your shoulders, then traces his finger down your neck and to your collarbones. you almost shiver at his touch. he continues his journey to your shoulders, gently pulling down the sleeves of your dress, then does the same to the other. you feel like everything is ten times more intense, since you can't see anything anymore.

he pulls his hand back, then shuffles on top of you for a while. you hear something hit the floor, and then feel the mattress dip between your legs. wooyoung takes your hand, guiding it towards a source of warmth. you breathe out when you touch his warm skin, nails yearning to dig into it. he helps you trace his abs, his formed chest, and all the way down to his defined v-line. you feel a few veins leading to a place of heaven, or hell, and you have to bite your lip to keep you from smiling.

this is exactly what you want.

"can i see?" you ask nicely.

"no. just feel." he declines, and you hear him smile as he says that.

"okay." you comply, using the opportunity to touch a little more

he then gets off the bed again, and you hear slight rattling. he must be setting up the camera. it doesn't take long for him to come back, placing an object next to you at a certain position.

"i'm only going to be filming myself and your lower body, alright? something like your point of view? you okay with that?"

"yes."

"you sure?"

"yes." you breathe out, feeling his hands caressing your hips.

"we need a safe word, angel."

"god, i don't know, just touch me already. please." you beg like a pathetic slut.

"i know you're impatient, but i really need you to think of a word."

"i don't know." you're becoming annoyed with him.

"how about..." he hums, then kisses your jawline, "mocha?"

"y-yes, that sounds good." you stutter as he plants kisses along your jawline, going down your neck and stopping at collarbones.

"so when you say mocha, i'm stopping everything i'm doing. got it?"

"yes."

"good. i'm turning it on now."

you hear a click, then a short sound. he waits a little, probably for people to join.

"hi, my favorite people. i would do some talking, but to be honest, i can't wait to dive into today's special."

you don' t have time to process his words, he is shuffling through the drawers again. wooyoung then takes your clothes off, and you help him by raising your hips, pulling your arms out your sleeves, all to make him satisfied. he plants a kiss on your knuckles, thumb grazing over them before he sets your hand back down. his lips hover above your skin, blowing cool air along the line of the lingerie bra you wore.

"i like you more in those pastels." he admits.

the man cups your breasts, slowly massaging them and letting his thumbs graze your tense buds over the thin black lace. you squirm under his touch, feeling the pleasure pool in your lower stomach. you swear you could cum from only nipple touching if he did it long enough. you could try that once.

"she's awfully quiet, isn't she? what should i do to her?" he speaks to the camera.

he then takes a few seconds to read the written suggestions, and then chuckles.

"take off the bra? oh, but i quite like it like this. it makes the situation sexier and more intimate. doesn't look like that raw porn you can find on pornhub, right?"

he is right. you got all dolled up for him, would be a shame if he took everything off so soon. you feel a warm wet muscle trace around your areola, building anticipation. his other hand plays with it too, not once touching the nerve ending that is angrily sticking out and demanding attention. he finally gives in, closing his lips around the tense bud and ever so lightly grazes it with the tip of his tongue.

you gasp, arching your back from the mattress. his hand is quick to find its place on your stomach, pushing your body back down and caressing your skin along the way.

"atta girl." he praises, seeing just how obedient you are for him.

his teeth graze your nipple, then gently tug at it. you twitch, hands flying towards him in hopes to grab his hair. he is quick to grab your wrists, pinning your hands above your head.

"i'm the one doing the exploring, angel. you lay there for me like the patient pretty doll you are."

you nod, immediately becoming still. his fingers find a path down your stomach, to the line of your panties. he caresses the skin right above your clit, circling it, grazing the inside of your thighs, your folds, all while ignoring the burning place right in the middle of all that. your hips almost buck into his hand, but you remember to be good. he pushes the panties aside, revealing you to himself and the camera.

"oh, so pretty." he exhales.

you hear him put his fingers in his mouth, coating them in saliva, then dip between your folds. you whine when he touches the tip of your clit, spinning it in circles and making you gasp for air. your hands are still pinned above your head, and his knee is fast to hold your legs open by pressing the inside of your thigh into the mattress. he then dips his fingers below, first one, then two. the feeling of strange and a little uncomfortable is back, but when he starts pumping in and out at a slow pace, occasionally curling his fingers up, you are a moaning mess. you can hear just how wet you are for him, and each time he buries his fingers deep inside of you, you have to fight the urge to moan louder.

"wish you could see just how well you're taking me."

you remember how absolutely hot it looked that night, seeing his fingers disappear inside of you.

"good, good girl. one more? think you can handle?"

there is two already, but you still nod. he adds another finger, deliciously stretching you out and giving you trouble breathing. it seems like hours have passed, and wooyoung is still content with fingering you at a pace that is too slow even for you. he is enjoying the sounds and view you are offering him, and is too mesmerized by the way he is so smoothly disappearing inside of you, all while you breathe heavily and buck your hips into his hand.

you feel your wrists become free. sore, but free. wooyoung then grabs something from the nightstand, and shuffles with it for a few moments. you hear light buzzing, and your heart jumps a little. fuck, he is doing everything just right. as if he entered your mind and stole all your wishes.

he brings it to your nipple, circling it just like his tongue is circling your clit. you are overwhelmed, struggling to keep still like he instructed.

"wooyoung-" you whine.

"i know, baby. feels so good, doesn't it?" he coos, sending shivers up your spine.

"yeah," you whine again, not quite capable of doing anything else.

"yeah," he hums. "you're doing a very good job, angel. hold on tight for me. don't let go just yet."

he is taking his sweet time, acting like this is only the beginning of a very long movie. you feel like cumming, and you don't want to do that just yet. you're having too much fun, and the buildup is much more pleasurable than the orgasm itself. at least you think so. his voice is soothing, low and raspy, and that alone is enough to make you feel like you came ten times already.

his tongue dives between your folds again, adding the third source of pleasure and shooting arrows to your core. you tremble under his passionate licks, thighs struggling to stay open. he hums into your clit, vibrations matching the ones on your nipple. he spins the gadget around your buds, slowly, then teases the areola again. you hear yourself become louder and louder, and he doesn't seem to mind. it's killing you that you can't see him. he must surely look gorgeous between your legs, working his tongue on you like it's his last feast.

his plush lips close around the tip of your clit, gently tugging it, tongue spinning it in slow circles just how you like it. but today, it all seems a little too slow. you are eager to see just how he will make you cum. maybe you can take two?

"how much longer?" you ask, feeling a bit stupid.

"oh, so much longer. i'm not letting go of you just yet."

the time is slow, and pleasure still bearable. you don't know how much longer you can hold. luckily, he pulls away from you, just in time. you feel his wet digits trail your bottom lip, as if asking permission to enter. you open your mouth, taking in the arousal that exists just for him. you taste yourself on his fingers, working your tongue around them so that you don't just lay completely useless. he hums, watching you swirl around them, and letting them go with a little suck at the end.

"i'm going to make you feel so good, princess. give you the best treatment you'll ever get."

you feel all fluttery and fidgety from his words. you could listen to him forever.

"come here."

you feel him sit behind you, back resting against the wall, and his hands pull you into his lap. your bare back rests against his built chest, and you can't help but hum at the sensation. he chuckles, loving every bit of reaction you have to give him.

"face reveal?" he reads a comment, and you become tense in his hands. "no."

the firm no has you grabbing his thighs, legs automatically spreading for him to continue abusing your clit and hole. his fingers move your hair out of the way of your chest, and gently tuck it behind your ears.

"so pretty." he coos again, leaving a kiss on top of your head.

you melt into his arms at his never ending praises, and you can't get enough. you wish to be called pretty all day long. you wish to be kissed like that for the rest of your life. you love how desired he makes you feel.

"are you real?" you mumble, lost in the soft vibrations that are circling your entrance.

he laughs, then kisses your shoulder. "very much, sweetheart."

"it feels too good. you feel too good."

"i know, baby. i know."

the gadget on your cunt is small, and still at a low speed. he uses his other hand to spread your folds, enough to start inserting the small vibrator inside. you yelp a little, the stretch wider than his fingers.

"easy," he whispers, "just like that..."

he fully inserts it, and you feel so full and in pain.

"i'm not going all the way, don't be afraid."

he pumps the toy in and out of you, enough to get you used to the new stretch. his other hand toys with your clit and tricks your brain into focusing on the pleasure rather than pain.

"wooyoung?"

"yes, love?"

"i thought you said you'd destroy me."

his movements stop. you bite your lip, trying to keep the smirk spreading on your lips. a gasp leaves your lips as his hand grabs your jaw, pulling your head back so that he can look at your face. he gets close, so close that your lips almost touch.

"is that what you want?"

his hot breath is so inviting, but when you reach to kiss him, he moves away, and grabs your jaw firmer.

"you want your tight little cunt to be destroyed? you want me to throw you around and use you like that toy you watched me fuck? you want me to fuck the feeling for the other guy out of you? so that you don't see nobody else but me? so that your pussy only fits on my cock? so that your body only responds to me?"

you are breathless as he spills all his intentions out, with each sentence sending goosebumps all over your body.

"that what you want? for me to fuck you dumb?"

"yes." you simply say.

you expected him to push you down on the bed. you expected him to pull your hair. you expected him to degrade you, spank you, and whatnot. but what you did not expect was the gentle tug of the blindfold, and a caress of your cheek as his grip on your jaw softened. you open your eyes, and meet his dark ones.

"are you sure?" he asks quietly.

"what?" you act dumb.

"you want me to...?"

"i want you to fuck me." you finally say it.

it seems like he has stopped breathing for a moment. he takes a few seconds to examine your face, looking for any signs of hesitation. when he sees none, he places the silk on your hands, tying them up and placing them in your lap.

"i meant what i said," he speaks to you and only you now, back turned towards the camera. "i am going to take a good care of you. remember your safety word?"

"mocha."

"good girl." he places a kiss on your forehead, then pushes you to lay down.

you watch him unbutton his pants, finally seeing more of that v-line you are suddenly very obsessed with. he throws them on the floor, along with the boxers, letting his cock free from the grip of the fabric. your jaw drops at the size. not enormous, but still too big for your virgin self. this is going to hurt like hell.

"can i suck you off?" you ask, subconsciously doing the big eyes thing he so much loves.

"are you sure? i wanted this to be about you."

"i'm sure." you say, eager to get a taste of him. "just, uh... guide me?"

"with pleasure."

he lays on the bed, elbow holding his upper body up as his other hand brings your face close to his cock. you didn't think it would look this clean and... pretty. you stick your tongue out, finally getting a taste of him. he hums, throwing his head back. you lick up from the base to the tip, immediately taking him in your mouth. he gasps, not expecting it so soon. he fills your mouth deliciously, resting against your tongue as his precum spills down your throat. he feels smooth, and very hot.

"god, so good," he groans, hand reaching for your hair to guide you up and down.

you bob your head up and down, too impatient to go slow like he did. you want to hear him more, knowing that you are the reason for those sounds and words.

"even your mouth is so tight, i might cum if you continue." he pulls your head away.

"you're so mean," you whine.

"i know," he coos for the third time today, knowing just what it does to you. "let me take care of you."

you try to lay down, but he holds you in place. you are confused. does he want to jump to some insane positions right away?

"missionary hurts. we will try something else. that good?"

you nod, and he sits against the wall again. he pulls you towards him, finally kissing you again. he showers you with soft kisses, and even though he promised whatnot, you are still experiencing a very soft and gentle version of him. you like it, but the thought of all the things he has listed for you is making your blood boil with excitement.

his hands cup your ass, raising your body and slowly bringing it towards his cock. you look down, noticing that a condom is already sitting on it. when did he manage to do that?

"slow," he whispers, guiding your hips so that you slowly start to sit on him, "just like that. good job."

you yelp at the uncomfortable stretch, and knowing that the pain is yet to come, you put your still tied hands around his neck and rest your head on his shoulder. inch by inch, he disappears inside of you, leaving no space empty. you feel so full and uncomfortable, your teeth sink into his shoulder to stop the loud moans of pain.

"hold onto me, love. it'll be better."

you forget the camera. you forget yunho. you forget san. you forget your feelings towards the other man. you will enjoy this, even if it was your last.

"can i move?"

"yes."

he keeps you close to him, lifting your hips slowly up and down. you hear the comment section flooding, and glance over at the laptop on the nightstand. each money donation makes a sound, and right now, there is tons of them. you enjoy all the praises written in the comments, talking about how well you are taking him, how obedient you are, and how innocent you look. you like it all a little too much.

wooyoung speeds up the pace, hips finally colliding with yours with a bigger force. you don't let go of his shoulder just yet, still focusing on the pleasure and trying to ignore the pain. he is a groaning mess, and little did you know that he has to use every ounce of self control in him to not just slam you on the bed and fuck you open for him. he grips your hips, sure to leave bruises afterwards, and keeps the same pace for a while.

"feeling okay?"

"yeah," you stutter between little gasps and moans.

"can i speed up?"

"yes, please."

the man finally lets himself loose, picking up your body by your waist and moving his own hips instead in a fast pace. your jaw drops, and your eyes roll back from the newfound point of pleasure. you are completely lost in his touch, scent and voice. he is grunting with each push, reaching deep inside of you and touching a particularly sensitive spot you didn't know you had.

"fuck, you're so wet." he hisses. “look how well you take me.”

having enough of the position, he finally throws you against the mattress, yet his gaze still has a hint of worry for you. when you smile, it's his sign to dive into your gardens again. the new position feels odd, and good in a new way. he reaches for a pillow, putting it under your hips for easier access, and finally fulfills his promise.

his hips dive into yours, colliding with force and awaking the orgasm inside of you. the pace isn't fast, it is just right. you have enough time to savour every delicious pump he delivers you.

"i want to cum so bad, please." you beg, feeling a bit overstimulated.

"just a little longer, hm?"

he speeds up the pace, grabbing your waist and practically slamming you against his cock, while his hips stay resting. you feel like that toy, being used like this. you can't help but develop a secret size kink, seeing how easily he is handling you and throwing your body around how he likes it. your eyes catch the gadget near him on the bed, and you grab it. his eyes are focused on the place you're connecting, admiring the view with scrunched eyebrows. he is so into it, that he doesn't even see you put the vibrating gadget on your clit. it is the sudden flood of comments again that makes him look away.

"chasing that orgasm like a thirsty little cumslut?"

you nod eagerly, focusing on the pool of pleasure threatening to spill over. a volcano waiting to erupt. a bottle of champagne waiting to pop.

"wooyoung-"

"go on, baby. i've tortured you enough."

you moan, grabbing his hand for support as you slowly reach the peak.

"cum on my cock like it's your last." he grunts.

it takes you over the edge. a river spilling over the highest cliffs, hitting hard against the pond and creating waves all the way to the shore. it is ripping through your body, and you swear you feel in in the ends of your hair and the tips of your toes. your back arches from the mattress, shaking as shock waves continue to exhaust your body. you are a moaning and whining mess, grabbing anything you can, from his arms and hair, to the mattress and pillows above your head.

"fuck, angel, i'm close too." he warns.

"use me," you whine, still in a hazy state. "use me like that fuck toy."

hearing you speak that way sends him over the edge too, fingers digging into the skin of your waist, and eyes rolling back as he moans and groans. his hips become sloppy, and you feel something warm spill inside of you. it takes a few more pumps for him to come down from his high, and when he is done, he lets himself fall on top of you.

he doesn't speak. doesn't move. just breathes and holds you in his embrace. you lay there for a while, trying to calm your breathing and come back to your senses. with a single tap on the keyboard, he shuts the live off, not even looking at it. he does it that often, he doesn't need to look.

his head finds peace in the space between your shoulder and neck, and his arms caress the place that is full of red marks from his hands. his breathing slows, and when you look down, you realize he has dozed off. you do too, holding him against your chest and replaying everything that just happened.

when you wake up, you see that the sky has gotten darker. you reach for the phone, checking the time so that you won't be late to your arrangement with yunho. but then, you see a notification just underneath the digits showing a young night.

a single message, with an attached screenshot of a very familiar room and familiar nude people.

yunho: i think i'm ready to let go. you've made it so much easier. goodbye.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

@minimoniac @miriamxsworld @kodzukein @woomyteez @mulletdaddyjayjo @bae4choi @haatohwa @marvelahsobx @jxhnnyfav

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