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fairyysoup · 1 year ago

Text

easy living

pairing: eric (a quiet place: day one) x fem!reader

summary: You ran into Eric on accident. Now you're facing the end of the world together. How do you get to know someone when you can't make a sound?

tags: smut, oral (f receiving), dry humping, piv sex, silent fucking, angst, hurt/comfort, survival, discussions of trauma, slight suicidal ideation by reader, words of affirmation as a love language, stay silent or die (obviously), strangers to lovers, apocalyptic, the cheesiest ending bc it's me writing, billie holiday lyrics bc it's also me writing

a/n: here it is, the silent fucking fic i promised y'all a year ago when this movie was announced. it was supposed to be like 1-2k words of plain smut but then I got too into the theory of what one does when you can't show affection through words and I genuinely discovered a tidbit of trauma I didn't know I had while writing it so I will be talking to a therapist about it, and also I'm literally out here baring my soul lol.

i also want to thank @bigtiddythanos @raraeavesmoriendi and @maximoffwxnda for supporting me throughout this writing process <3 this fic literally would not have been finished or published without y'all

ALL MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

The rain has ended. Morose, you stare up at the ceiling, wondering when you’ll get something close to free reign with your voice again.

Of course the world had to end while you were at fucking Whole Foods.

You’ll miss certain things. Things you always took for granted, that you never even considered made a lot of noise until now. Typing on the computer. Making stir fry. Microwaving a burrito at 3am. Lighting a match, washing your face. Taking a shower.

And other things, too, that are more obvious, like singing while making cookies. Slurping the bottom of a milkshake. You’ll never be able to have a pet bird. You’ll never be able to see another concert again, and damn it if you didn’t really want those Glastonbury tickets a month ago. But it all just seems trivial, now. You don’t see why you shouldn’t just lay here on the couch forever.

On the other side of the coffee table there’s a gentle shuffling. Eric rouses as quietly as he can; at the very least, your apartment creates a hospitable enough environment that he isn’t startled awake. It’s so silent in the apartment that you can hear the slight shift in his intake of breath, the rustle of the pillow as he turns his head to look at you.

You want to look at him, but you fear that you’ll end up wanting to talk. So, you say nothing. You do nothing. You stare at the white paint on the ceiling and you wonder whether it would be better to get on one of the boats headed out into the water, or to move inland, away from people, away from sound. There has to be somewhere far enough away from the city that the… creatures won’t go, right?

Eric waves his hand in your periphery, so that you have no choice but to acknowledge that you know he’s awake. You have no choice but to turn your head and look into the depths of his eyes, and feel all the pain of the last 48 hours return to you. You’d been able to talk last night, just enough, in time with the rain and the thunder– enough to learn that he has family across the world.

You can’t imagine knowing that somewhere, across an ocean and half a world away, your parents may or may not be dead. No way to contact them, no way to know what’s become of them. You can’t even begin to fathom the fear that he’s feeling, as much as you’re despairing.

Eric’s big eyes tell you everything. Sadness and fear, and trying to grasp at the smallest hint of normalcy he can get. He blinks at you, and mouths, You okay?

No, you’re definitely not okay. Things are not okay. Things are broken and can’t be fixed. Things will never be the same again. He knows that, as much as you know that. But you nod anyway, even though you feel your heart beat a little bit slower than usual, like it wants to just go ahead and give up already. Tears prick at your eyes, and you have to close them before you let on that you’re lying.

Eric knows you’re lying, of course. How could anyone be okay, in this kind of situation? But he waits until you open your eyes, and then he mouths, Coffee?

You let out a small sigh of relief, and a smile that’s indescribably warm crosses your face. Even though he can’t make a sound, he knows exactly what to say.

You don’t have a coffee maker that doesn’t also make a ton of noise. But through some kind of witchcraft, Eric quietly empties two k-cups into a glass measuring cup and boils a soup pot full of water on the stove, and suddenly you have hot coffee in front of you.

On a notepad left on the counter, you write, Wish I had some tea for you.

Eric’s lips turn up at the edges, and he takes the pen from you. You’re able to doctor your coffee for about one second before he slides the notepad back to you.

Bloody American.

Your ensuing huff of a laugh is enough to make him turn pink around the ears, and he turns to place the dirty measuring cup into the sink. He reaches for the faucet, but then thinks better of it. You’ll have to figure out how to wash the dishes later.

You both drink your coffee in silence on the couch. You never considered yourself uncomfortable with silence; you’ve lived alone, you’ve gone for weeks without uttering a word before. But it’s so difficult to be sitting next to someone– someone you feel you could really get to like– and not be able to say a word. To make a sound, laugh or cry or snort or grunt.

You’ll never be able to know what Eric’s laugh sounds like, or listen to his favorite song with him, or watch some stupid rerun of Friends with him while ignoring your responsibilities. He’s right there next to you, he’s risked his life to save you once already, and yet he’s so far away. You’ll never get to know him in all the ways you want to. Will you ever really know him at all?

He’d created a diversion when one of the fucking things had you trapped in a corner, between a dumpster and a brick wall. He chucked a rock at a car and set off an alarm, and then ran with you down an alleyway, his arm wrapped tight around your waist. Eric looked so sad, following you like a lost puppy. He was fucking drenched, too, so you know he’d probably been through one hell of a morning. And then the rain started, and the creatures were confused and… well, you weren’t just gonna leave him, scared and alone.

You, too, were scared and alone.

Eric’s hand appears to brush away a tear that had begun to fall down your cheek, betraying your internal monologue. You look to him with puffy eyes, and he pulls his hand away, suddenly unsure of whether you’re okay with such an intimate gesture.

Your coffee cup meets the table with a quiet tap. You’re slow to move, but you scoot towards him, his arm still outstretched towards you, his eyes wide. Eric has the prettiest eyes in the world, you think. You want to tell him so.

But you’re a little too choked up to form words, anyways. Your forehead meets Eric’s shoulder, and his arm comes around you before you can huff the first silent sob that brims up. He coos softly into your hair, so softly that you can barely hear it, but it conveys enough. It does enough.

The world is fucked. Your life is fucked. You have tunnel vision and you can only see things getting worse from here on; the only good thing you know anymore is holding you and caressing your head so gently that it pushes your tears out for you.

You’ll never get to see a movie in a theater, and smell the stale popcorn again. You’ll never drive down the highway with the wind in your hair. You’ll never ride a roller coaster or sing karaoke. You’ll never go to a club and have a drunken heart to heart with a stranger in a bathroom.

“Do you think it’s worth it?” You whisper, so faintly that it’s barely above a breath, your lips pressed to the shell of his ear. “To try to exist in a world where you have to pretend like you don’t exist?”

Eric pauses, holding you to him. You can see the wheels turning in his head, while he tries to figure out what to say. Then he turns his face to put his lips against your ear, the same way you’d done to him.

“I think it’s worth it to try to survive.” His breath tickles your skin when he whispers, “So survive with me, yeah?”

You nod solemnly, your tears threatening to rise up again. “I can’t stand not talking to you.” It’s so hard to keep your voice from cracking, from rising above the merest hint of a whisper, directly to him and no one or nothing else.

Eric takes it in stride. “You are talking to me.” He pulls back and bats his eyelashes, and you think, he oughta fucking know what that does to me.

“Not like this,” you breathe to him, because that’s really what it is– it’s a breath. A sigh. A gust of air and nothing else, barely anything that registers on your vocal chords. Your hand on the back of his neck, pulling him close to you. His hand, tightening on the middle of your back, holding you there. “I want to talk– I want to get to know you.”

“Well, this isn’t so bad, is it?” Eric turns his head. His forehead nudges yours at the temple, and you swear you see a flash of a smile on his face. “What do you want to know?”

His forefinger traces up and down, up and down, a gentle pattern that keeps you grounded. You bite your lip, trying to keep from letting the sounds come out too loud. You say the first thing that comes to mind. “What’s your favorite song?”

“Easy Living. Billie Holiday.”

“You’re kidding.” You’re blushing, hot in the cheeks. You’re imagining it; slow dancing in the kitchen with him while oldies plays on the radio. You didn’t think such an innocent question would send you spiraling like this, but it hurts worse to know that it will probably never happen.

“Absolutely not.”

“Somehow… I can’t picture you listening to jazz.”

“Picture it all you want,” he whispers. Eric swallows, and continues, “My granddad used to have these records, and we used to play them on Christmas. But when– when he died, the records went missing. I couldn’t find the song until a couple years ago,” he explains, and his voice cracks just slightly into a murmur.

You both freeze. You wait for the sound of creatures coming down the hallway, busting down the walls… nothing happens. You let out a breath, and you pull his face closer to yours. His eyes flick over your face, and you put your lips against his ear.

“You have to be so quiet. Can you do that for me?” Eric nods in your hands. “I wish we could do anything but this. I wish that we could have met in better circumstances. I wish… I wish I had known you before all of this. I think we would have had a lot of fun. But if this is the only way I can get to know you, and hear your voice now, I’ll take it.” You’re nodding as well now, like you’re trying to convince yourself of it. “I’m telling you this because I don’t know how long we have. Together, I mean. And I don’t want to waste it passing notes. Okay?”

“Okay.” He sounds clipped. His hand fidgets on your back, and you pull away to find him misty-eyed, his brows turned up. He fishes for words that don’t come, and then he nods. “Okay.”

Neither of you move. The atmosphere around you feels heavy, like it’s pressing in on all sides. Eric’s hand slides up your back and to your face, and you remember that you’re still holding his. You’re near sitting in his lap with how close you’ve become, and the realization of that feels like a punch to the gut.

You think you should pull away. You don’t.

Eric’s thumb traces a gentle arc across your bottom lip. It’s so featherlight it’s barely there– his eyes are honed in on your mouth, clearly lost in thought. You’d let him stay there as long as he wants, but you want every minute you can get. “Eric–”

He closes the gap and kisses you. The way you’d said his name– or not said it, rather, you sort of mouthed it against his thumb– had done the job you wanted it to. It feels like this was the obvious conclusion to the system you’d worked out, the close proximity and your shared fears. He’s scared, he said as much last night. You’re scared, you said so just now.

Nowhere to go, nothing else to do except be right here, living. Alive, together. Kissing Eric, and him pulling you close by the waist, so that you do swing your leg and seat yourself in his lap. And as much as you love talking, and it breaks your heart that you can’t jabber at him, there are some things you just can’t put into words. Like the way that his hand on the back of your neck lights you up inside, or that you can’t think of anything other than all the areas where his skin is touching yours, and how you suddenly wish there was way more of them.

It’s stupid how much you like him already, really. You can feel your nonexistent friends clucking their tongues and shaking their heads, saying, “One day? That’s all it takes? You find some guy at the end of the world and you fall in love in 24 hours?” And they’d be right– maybe it’s not love. Not yet, anyways. But you could see it easily becoming that. And that fact scares you even more.

Your hands find Eric’s chest and the frantic beating of his heart tells you nearly the same thing. You break the kiss, trying to quietly catch your breath without gasping like you’re half-drowning. It’s harder than you expected.

“Been wanting to do that all morning,” Eric whispers. And just like that you’re falling again, faster this time, like he’s just melted your wings right off and sent you plummeting.

You struggle to keep from gasping aloud when he kisses your jaw, just beneath your ear. It’s the lightest touch but you swear it burns, sears your skin.

Your hands find the back of the couch, twitchy fingers digging in to keep you steady. Your mouth finds his again, his tongue tasting of coffee, and Eric kisses you a bit harder now, a bit sloppier.

Breaking away, you open your eyes to find his wide, starstruck, his mouth hanging open like he’s been shocked beyond belief. You didn’t honestly intend for this to happen– you wanted to talk. But somehow this seems better, more appropriate.

How do you get your feelings across when talking isn’t really an option? When innocent attraction becomes… whatever this is?

You press a single finger to his plush lips, signaling exactly what you mean without a word. Quiet.

Eric purses his lips, kisses your finger without breaking eye contact. His pupils are blown out so far that the barest hint of golden brown surrounds them, glinting in the sunlight from the window.

You lean forward, until your mouth touches his ear. “Your eyes are so fucking pretty, Eric,” you whisper to him, and your teeth latch onto his earlobe to tug gently. You can’t help it– you grind your hips down into his lap, without even thinking of doing it. “You’re so pretty.”

Eric whimpers. It’s a soft sound, hollow in the back of his throat, but it’s still too loud for the world that you’re in. You clamp your hand down over his mouth, and his breath comes out sharp and hot over your knuckles as he tries to regain composure.

“Do you want me to stop?” You ask him, whispering gently in his ear. Against you, he shakes his head no. “Want me to keep going?” Eric nods his head yes.

He’s shaking under you, his fingertips digging into your lower back like he can’t hold onto you hard enough. At the thought, your pulse pounds, blood positively humming through your veins.

You nuzzle his cheek, and give him the sweetest kiss you can while your hand is still clamped over his mouth insistently. “You have to be. Fucking. Silent. Do you understand?” He nods. “We can’t make a sound. Okay?”

Eric nods again, and keeps nodding until you let him go. If the rain was still pouring like earlier, you could tell him how much you want him, too. How you don’t want to be mean, you just don’t want to get hurt. This is a bad idea, all things considered. But Eric slides his hand down and cups your ass to lift you up a bit, and the words bad and idea suddenly fucking vanish from your vocabulary.

You stand long enough to kick off your sweats, your day old panties going down with them. You hadn’t dressed to be sexy yesterday, you dressed to get groceries. You don’t necessarily want Eric to see your faded cotton underwear with the stretched out elastic and multiple frayed holes. You don’t think it would add to your sex appeal right now.

He doesn’t notice the lack of a strip tease– he’s already taking you by the hips, not even waiting for you to shuck your t-shirt. He pulls until you’re stood in front of him, and then hooks your leg over his shoulder.

So. Eric doesn’t need to be asked to go down on you, he just does. The gentleman. His hands are firm on your ass as he nuzzles into the patch of hair between your legs, and the precarious balancing act makes you snatch onto the back of the couch again.

His tongue glides through the folds of your pussy slowly, methodically. You aren’t sure if he wants to take his time, or if he’s going slow so that he doesn’t make too much noise when doing it, but he latches onto your clit and sucks agonizingly softly, like he knows he should do it harder but won’t risk making you moan.

It’s so gentle, and it builds. Pretty soon, you’re having a tough time keeping your whimpers in, even when he’s basically just teasing you, flicking his tongue over your clit with even the barest pressure. Your head has fallen back on your shoulders, your hand now clasped over your own mouth to stifle your sighs.

Then, Eric’s hand glides up to splay across your lower back, and he sucks long and hard at your clit, and your hand squeezes murderously at the back of the couch while you ride out your orgasm on his tongue.

Knees buckling, you collapse into Eric’s lap. He has a doe-eyed look on his face that’s way too innocent after what he just did to you. With panting breath and shaking hands, you cup his rosy cheeks in your palms, shaking your head in disbelief.

Eric’s brows tilt in worry, like he did something wrong. He opens his mouth, but you put your fingers against his lips to silence him, and lean forward to breathe, “You’re too sweet for me, Eric.”

He traces his fingers lightly up your spine, and turns his head. “Maybe one day I won’t have to be sweet. Maybe then I can really fuck you.”

The sound of his whispering voice in your ear makes you shiver, your lust reaching a boiling point. The idea of him really fucking you– that this isn’t even him as normal, that he’s having to hold so much back– makes you burn hot all at once. That this isn’t something he’s planning on doing once. That there’s a ‘one day’ that he sees in the future with you in it.

With a nod, your breath catches in your throat. You find your way to his mouth again, kissing him desperately. You can taste yourself lingering on his lips, and your hips rock forward against his again.

Eric inhales sharply, stifling his own moan. You guess you have to take it just as slowly as he did, ease him into it. You work your hand beneath his unbuttoned fly and palm him, keeping your touch gentle against his hot skin. He shakes, his hands laid out against your spine, his eyes sparkling when he looks up at you.

You push your forehead against his as you sink onto his cock, letting yourself adjust to his size. His breath stutters as he tries to keep quiet, small puffs of air spilling out and meeting your electrified skin. You curl your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, rocking your hips just barely, settling into his lap.

This is more intimate than you can ever remember being with anyone, but right now it just feels right. Maybe it could be cathartic to fuck like a couple of animals in the face of doom, but Eric pulls your body flush against his, one strong forearm around your waist, and his nose nudges yours, and you think this is better. This is what you both need. Closeness. Sweetness.

There isn’t a lot of movement– you can’t risk it. You and Eric seem to be in agreement on that, because as soon as you start trying to move in earnest, he just pulls you back to him, his arm around your waist and his hand petting the back of your head.

Eric rocks his hips up into yours slowly, deeply, and it’s the depth of it and the slow sensuality that keeps you floating. Your clit catches on the patch of hair at the base of his cock each time you roll your hips with him, and you have to kiss him to keep from keening aloud. He doesn’t seem to mind it.

You know he’s close when he tucks his face against your neck, his arm tightening around you. “Feels so fucking good,” comes his whine in your ear, and you gently shush him, your hand resting on the back of his head to keep him muffled against your shoulder. You want so badly to look at his face when he cums, but there’s that pesky issue of staying alive, and that hinges on whether or not he can keep quiet when he does.

To his credit, he bites your shoulder and only whimpers a little bit. It’s just a squeak, but really, he could have been much louder about it, and then you would have both been in trouble. Imagine having to run for your life with your pants down.

Ever the gentleman, he keeps you there even after he’s spent and sensitive, his hand clamped down on your thigh to prevent you from moving. His thumb finds your clit, and he lifts his head to watch you, his hooded eyes trained on your face as he brings you to the edge and over it again. He watches the way your brows tilt up, the way you struggle to keep your own eyes open, and the silent moan that threatens to break past your parted lips.

Eric claps his hand down over your mouth before it can. Your eyes fly open, your cunt clenches down around him, and he bares his teeth as you cum hard. It’s cyclical, comes in waves as he continues to stroke you through it, as he keeps his hand clamped down on your mouth to keep you quiet.

To keep you quiet.

Feverish and exhausted, you come down with your chest against his, Eric’s head flopped back onto the backrest of the couch. Your knees fucking hurt and you have yet to get off of him, and you sort of dread the moment when you have to. But this means your mouth is positioned right next to Eric’s ear, and you’re nothing if not a talker.

“Eric?” you whisper, and he turns his head just enough to let you know he heard you. “I’m glad that I met you when I did. Even if it’s terrible timing, I’m glad we met.”

A sweet, tired smile flits across Eric’s beautiful face. He nudges his nose against your temple. “I’m glad, too.”

You shift off of him, and he squeezes your thigh just at the same time as he scrunches his face. He’s such a trooper about it, you kiss his cheek as you go, leaning over to grab a pair of earphones from the coffee table.

You hand one ear bud to him, watching as confusion crosses his face. He watches you type on your phone as he tucks the bud into his ear, and you the other.

On low volume, you listen to the soft piano and saxophone intro to an old jazz standard. Eric grins, his hand finding your cheek before he pulls you in for a kiss.

And then, Billie Holiday’s voice plays for only you two to hear.

Living for you is easy living, It’s easy to live when you’re in love And I’m so in love, There’s nothing in life but you.

#eric a quiet place day one #eric a quiet place x reader #a quiet place day one #roses*#eric x reader #eric a quiet place day one x you #eric a quiet place x you #eric a quiet place day one x reader #eric fan fiction #eric x you #joseph quinn

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puck-luck · 5 months ago

Note

Hi, girly. I hope I find you fine.

I'd like to make a request with Quinn. Could you write something where reader is feeling down, like after a day of dealing with friends/family drama and she is just drained, plus they are at the lake house and yk all the boys are there but she doesn't feel like having dinner or hanging out with them, she just wants to cuddle and recharge and Q just excuses himself to be with her and hopefully makes her feel better.

Thank you so much 💓

warnings: cockwarming. that's IT. other than that, it's just domestic bliss.

pairing: quinn hughes x fem!reader

word count: 1,229

note: thank you @skylershines for requesting this! sorry it took me a while to finish :,) this ask wasn't inherently sexual, but since i am a smut writer, i had to throw in a sexual element or two. i am not THE fluff girl on tumblr dot com LOL but love you girly

The boys are downstairs making a ruckus about something. You’re starting to wonder if they ever tire themselves out, or if they’re always full of energy like this. The day has been long and chock-full of activities and you’re… rather exhausted.

Maybe it’s because of all the sun you soaked up on the boat that’s making you sleepy. Maybe it’s the swimming you did or the wine with the big, filling, home-cooked meal that Quinn made. Maybe it’s from the flight from Vancouver to Michigan two days ago that’s making you so tired. Maybe it’s the knowledge that you’re working from home– Quinn’s home– tomorrow and you can’t dedicate all your time to the fun happenings in the vacation home.

All in all, you don’t know what the root of your exhaustion is, but you know that there’s no way you want to leave this bed again today. You’re due for a good rot. You’ve got a book in hand and you’re all tucked in beneath the covers and the fact that it’s only 7:30pm doesn’t matter to you one bit. The sun hasn’t even started to set, but here you are, ready for bed.

Between the lines in your book, you can piece together what the boys are talking about downstairs. Trevor wants a bonfire. Jack and Luke want to go wakesurfing. Alex doesn’t care, but he wants someone to make a decision. Cole wants to stay in and play ping pong. You’re secretly hoping that the fact that you can’t really hear your boyfriend arguing with his brothers and friends means that he’ll be coming upstairs to join you soon.

It isn’t long before you hear feetsteps padding up the stairs and making their way towards the bedroom you share with Quinn. You continue reading, paying no mind to the man entering the room, but there’s a hint of a smile on your face.

“Hey,” Quinn greets in a low, relaxed tone. He kisses the top of your head, hovering by your side of the bed. “The boys want to do something. Are you up for it?”

Not really. “What do they want to do?” you ask, not sure if they’d come to an agreement by the time Quinn joined you upstairs. You don’t really want to join the boys, but you don’t want to seem like a spoilsport during your first trip to the lakehouse. Being a recluse won’t get you any favors, no matter how much Quinn likes you. You might be able to go downstairs and sit by a bonfire or watch from the couch while the boys play ping pong. Sitting on the boat wouldn’t be that bad, but you’d have to change out of your pajamas (a cute little slip that you packed just for Quinn). You also know that “one hour on the boat” never actually means one hour on the boat. It always stretches into two or three. So, really, you’d rather stay in.

“Thinking about going out on the boat,” Quinn replies, because you’re really not that lucky when it comes down to it.

Again, you’re faced with a dilemma: you can go with them and feel tired and cranky or you can stay here and feel like you’re not being a good girlfriend by joining the group. There’s not really a good option. At least in this bed, you’ll be warm.

“I kind of just want to stay in bed, if that’s okay,” you tell Quinn with a small shrug. “But I don’t want them to think that I’m boring or anything. I’m just tired.”

Quinn lets out a laugh. “They don’t think you’re boring. Are you okay, though? I know your ‘just tired’ can mean something else sometimes.”

He’s so sweet. You’ve been with Quinn less than a year, but he’s still managed to note your idiosyncrasies and moods perfectly. “I’m okay, sweet boy.”

“Do you want me to stay?”

A wave of affection passes through you. “Do what you want, Q. You choose. I won’t say no to cuddling you all night, but don’t stay on my account.”

“Just let me tell the guys to go without me,” Quinn replies. He leans down and meets your lips. “Then I’ll be back.”

He departs, but his return is quick. He brings his own book and gets into his pajamas– nothing but his boxer shorts– before joining you under the covers. Quinn throws an arm over your shoulders and opens his book, settling in.

You read together in silence for a little while. You start to get bored and allow yourself two more chapters– after checking to see just how long those chapters were, six and eight pages respectively– before you close your book and set it on the nightstand. You slide down the bed a bit, wrapping your arm around Quinn’s waist and squishing your cheek against his chest.

Quinn rubs your arm. “Sleepy, babe?” he asks.

You hum, turning your face into his bare skin and planting a kiss there. “You’re warm.”

Quinn breathes out a laugh. He pulls you closer; you’re practically on his lap now. You might as well finish the job and get comfortable, so you straddle Quinn and bury your face in his neck, kissing the skin there. Quinn brings his hand to your back and runs his fingers up and down the expanse of it in soothing motions.

It tickles at first, making you squirm. After a minute or so, you relax into the touch– and a few minutes after that, you find yourself grinding down against Quinn’s rapidly-filling cock.

“Quinn,” you murmur in his ear. You pull back and meet his eyes, trying to convey what you want with just a look.

You don’t want much. You’re still tired and drained from the day, completely washed out from the swimming and boating and sunbathing you’d been thinking of earlier. All you want is to have Quinn close.

“Yeah,” he replies with a nod. He sets his book aside and encourages you to kneel up just enough that he can slide the waistband of his boxers down and free his cock.

Greedily, you try to grind against his shaft as soon as it’s free, but Quinn halts you with a soft touch from his free hand.

He fists the base of his cock and pulls the crotch of your panties to the side, using the pads of his deft fingers to spread your folds. His eyes are hooded and loving as his tip breaches your hole, and he starts to smile when you sink down and settle against him.

“Oh,” you breathe out once you take him fully, clenching down and loosening your grip on his cock a few times before melting into Quinn.

“Sweet girl,” Quinn praises in the tone that’s just for you. He plants his hands on your hips and kisses your lips.

Neither of you make an effort to move. In fact, you find yourself growing very drowsy in Quinn’s comforting arms. His distinct, tender touch has your head lulling forward, falling against his shoulder. Quinn breathes deeply and you follow, matching him. The smell of his bodywash fills your nose and you close your eyes, taking another breath.

It’s not inherently sexual, having Quinn’s cock inside you and his lips on your skin. It is, however, exactly what you needed after such an exhausting day.

#puck-luck's fics #andy writes anything🍄#quinn hughes #quinn hughes smut #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes x you #qh43 #quinn hughes fluff #vancouver canucks #nhl #nhl smut #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #hockey smut #hockey blurb

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theonottsbxtch · 11 months ago

Text

Cool for the Summer | LN4

an: i’ve been trying not to just blow up the timeline with a bunch of smau but thanks to @isaadore and @diycriptheory i finally chose one thing to post!

synopsis: in which lando goes to the same resort each summer and he befriends the owners daughter who works there

fc: pinterest!

2019

landonorris

liked by carlossainz55, maxfewtrell, yourusername and 592,362 others

summer break in full swing 🤘

*tap to load more comments*

userone: sun looks good on you

usertwo: look at those back muscles

userthree: WHO is that girl?

landonorris: her name is yn! she works at the resort we stayed at and was our personal guide, check out her dads resort @/resortname

userfour: just yn? 🤔

carlossainz55: why didn’t you invite me cabrón?

landonorris: “i don’t want to go on holiday with you, i see you too much” - do those words sound familiar?

carlossainz55: not at all, who said them?

landonorris: 😑

userfive: yn is us, reading on the beach

2020

landonorris

liked by carlossainz55, yourusername, danielricciardo and 864,436 others

much needed break 😴

*tap to load more comments*

userone: is that yn?!

usertwo: did he meet up with the girl from last summer?!

carlossainz55: i was also on that holiday

landonorris: were you? i must have missed that

carlossainz55: gringo

danielricciardo: there is no way this beats an aussie summer

landonorris: oh but it does

userthree: carlos went on holiday with him 🥲 my carlando heart

yourusername: i was quite enjoying the idea of a summer not working

landonorris: but unfortunately for you, your dad loves me

yourusername: wrong, he loves your money

carlossainz55: lol 😹🫵

userfour: don’t shoot me but landoyn

userfive: 🔫

2021

yourusername

liked by landonorris, carlossainz55, yourbestfriend and 2,371 others

he got some hours in this summer - also check out this vase i started earlier!

*tap to load more comments*

userone: pottery queen

landonorris: child labour

yourusername: you’re 23

landonorris: exaclty 😞

usertwo: each summer i get excited knowing we get landoyn posts

userthree: if they don’t get together i may cry

userfour: and now they kiss

carlossainz55: best boat rider? driver? chauffer? ever!

yourusername: skipper! but thank you :)

carlossainz55: but you don’t skip?

yourusername: it’s a dumb name i know 😭

userfive: it’s the way she’s friends with carlos too

yourbestfriend: @/landonorris how does it feel to steal my best friend each summer?

landonorris: pretty good actually

yourbestfriend: 🔪

2022

landonorris

liked by yourusername, danielricciardo, carlossainz55 and 462,382 others

finally was trusted enough to see how pottery stuff is done

*tap to load more comments*

userone: i come alive once each year for the annual post

usertwo: lando is a summer child

carlossainz55: don’t lie. you paid her €100 to let you in the room

landonorris: that was not meant to be public knowledge

userthree: lando is such a simp bc why did he pay €100 to watch a girl do some pottery

userfour: but it’s not just SOME girl

userfive: it’s THE girl

yourusername: €100 well earned

landonorris: you and i are no longer friends

yourusername: whomp whomp

2023

yourusername

liked by landonorris, yourbestfriend, oscarpiastri and 3,472 others

spent the summer saving the people’s favourite driver from drowning

*tap to load more comments*

userone: thank you for your service

oscarpiastri: not my favourite driver

yourusername: facts me too

carlossainz55: @/landonorris: shots fired

usertwo: parents

userthree: okay maybe not this year but next year 😞

yourbestfriend: *cough* i actually was on lifeguard duty most of the summer

yourusername: shhhh

userfour: help can lando not swim

yourusername: no

landonorris: she’s lying, i can

2024

landonorris

liked by your username, oscarpiastri, mclarenracing and 934,635 others

ahead of the hungary gp i had a personalised helmet created to fit in with the rich culture of the country, following the gp i will put this up to auction for a children’s charity - see you on track!🏎️🏁

*tap to load more comments*

userone: SHUT UP SHUT UP SHE DID NOT

usertwo: i am sick

userthree: landoyn is so real

userfour: 2024 is the year

yourusername: nice helmet! wonder where you got it from?

landonorris: some pretty, talented woman made it for me

yourusername: what a lucky lady, you speak highly of her

landonorris: ☺️

userfive: THÉ COMMA. PRETTY. TALENTED. KILL ME NOW

oscarpiastri: does the artist take commissions for next year?

yourusername: potentially!

landonorris: back off piastri

twitter:

yourusername

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, yourbestfriend and 6,422 others

this summer i learnt how to do a handstand

*tap to load more comments*

userone: don’t freak out calm down too late i’m freaking out

landonorris: that’s a headstand actually

yourusername: chat to me when you have a olympic gold medal

usertwo: THIS IS NOT A DRILL

userthree: THE LAST SLIDE

oscarpiastri: photo credits?

yourbestfriend: i took that actually

oscarpiastri: that’s from my sunbed actually

yourbestfriend: we were on the same bed dufus

userfour: 👀

carlossainz55: the son of a bitch did it

userfive: CARLOS HELP

landonorris

liked yourusername, oscarpiastri, carlossainz55 and 937,361 others

i love summer

*tap to load more comments*

userone: I LOVE SUMMER TOO LANDO

usertwo: the way she looks at him 🥹

oscarpiastri: @/yourbestfriend we are feeding the landoyn fans

yourbestfriend: that we are

userthree: someone check in on the landoyn fan base

userfour: miss rabbit has fainted

yourusername: i think i may love summer too 🤭

landonorris: 🥰

yourdad: i approve

#f1 #f1 imagine #f1 smau #f1 fanfic #lando norris #lando norris fluff #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #formula one smau #mclaren formula 1 #mclaren #smau #oscar piastri #carlos sainz #daniel ricciardo #fluff

1K notes · View notes

melioraskz · 7 months ago

Text

Rather be your whore than a noble man’s wife.

A/N : I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately… this wasn’t based on anything in particular and is definitely not historically accurate, this is just another universe LOL!

Warning : brief mention of SA, mentions of whores, homophobia (not by any of the characters, just mentioned in a backstory!), giving head (female receiving), tiny hint of overstimulation, almost caught in the act, probably forgot something lol ! NOT PROOFREAD !!!

(Pirate) Han Jisung x (afab) Reader

Summary : After being captured by a gang of bandits you get saved by a mysterious man called Jisung, what you don’t know is that he is in fact something your parents always warned you for, a pirate.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

“Stay away from me!”

“Wow wow wow little lady, relax. I’m not going to harm you” the man in front of you said with his hands up in the air in surrender despite the small yet devilishly sharp knife still laid between his thumb and index finger.

“Do you want my help or not?” He asked, raising a brow as he looked at you up and down.

“I’ve got everything under control, thank you very much” you spat back, sighing deeply as you try to once again squirm out of the tight robe that was around your body and hands.

Everything was in fact not under control. There you were, bound to the pole, hands tied behind your back and hair stuck to your face with the sweat from your forehead, breathing heavy with your dress half cut up by the bandits who took you capture. Despite their desperate tries you had manage to keep them away from you enough for them to not take it further than some disgusting groping and touched here and there. However despite your deadly looks you shot their way it couldn’t take away the looks of desire they shot in your direction as another one tried to cut off a button of your blouse…

The aggravating man who had jumped on board of the ship all cocky started to whistle as he sat up on the edge of the boat, carelessly taking the knife and removed some dirt under his finger nails. “Just let me know when you need my help, missy” he sung, acting all nonchalantly as if he wasn’t also on a bandit ship, all alone against the 30 men that could show up any second. Not that you had any hope that he would survive one of the men for that matter. They were all buff, scary with scars everywhere, you could tell they were up to no good. This guy? He was skinny, lanky built, curly brown hair and despite his aura feeling like he would be a big man… he was quite a short guy.

“Fine, just get me out of here before they come back” you mutter, the guy looking up at you, stopping mid-through the melody he was whistling. Then he shook his head and his lips left a few of tsk tsk tsk to show his displeasure. “What sort of lady are you? Not even a simple please? I’ve met whores down at the red district with more charm and politeness than you” he stated and rose a brow. That awful awful cockiness would drive you mad but you were desperate.

“Please can you help me out of these fucking ropes? I’m not planning on becoming these bandits slave or sex toy” you state, earning a pleased smirk by the mysterious guy who by ease jumped down from the edge and walked up to you. He then easily cut off the rope using the knife before he put it back into the holder in his belt.

“There we go, now I suggest we leave before those idiots come back” he says, a smug smile on his lips. Within a second you had stepped away from the damn pole, singing deeply as you rubbed your previously tied up wrists with your hands to ease the irritation that the rope had caused. “Thanks” you sigh, walking over to the edge and looked out at the dock, multiple ships stood there and you could hear the muffled sounds of parties and people if you looked out to the town ahead of you… “where even are we?” You sigh, not sure where they had taken you, surely from the accent of the man it was far away from your home…

“Welcome to Incheon city, ma’am! The place filled with dreams, nightmares, whores, pirates and a great amount of cheap alcohol” the man burst out, now somehow standing on the edge walking around as if it wasn’t a 10 meter drop down to the ice cold water below. “Oh fuck! I’m Jisung, by the way, Han Jisung” he added. “It’s nice to meet you, what’s your name?” He asked proudly.

You were about to answer when you heard a voice behind you.

“She has escaped!” A roaring man’s voice yelled as he had climbed up the ladder on the other side. You remembered that man very well, after all he had tried to fuck you at least seven times since your capture a few days ago. Along with him came 4 others, you look back at Jisung with panicked eyes, but you were met by a pair of awfully calm ones. He let out a sigh in displeasure, almost as if he thought the whole ordeal were just bothersome.

“Alright boys, let’s say after me” Jisung started, grabbing one of the robes that the bandits used to climb up to the watch tower. “If you are despite to get a quick fuck, go to a whore house, not kidnap someone” he then continued, cutting the rope off with the knife he had previously used on the ropes that had you tied up. Then before the men could reach you he swung in the rope, using his legs and made 2 of the men fall to the ground in a loud groan. That’s when he grabbed both of the men’s revolvers, tossing one of them to you, which you catch in pure panic. Looking at the man, he easily got all men on the floor, despise them being twice his weight. “Close those pretty eyes for me, pretty lady” Jisung instructed, as if it was an instinct you did exactly like he said and as soon as your eyelids had fallen down so all you saw was darkness the ship echoed with a shot, another another, another and-

“All done, missy” a voice said, opening your eyes you saw the men’s lifeless bodies on the wooden floor, blood painting the deck that poured out of their head. It wasn’t the first time you had ever encountered a dead body before but it was certainly the first time seeing so much blood at the same time, despite being outside you swore you could smell the stench of iron in the red dark liquid ahead of you. Jisung however didn’t give you the luxury to take in the scene for more than a few second, he had other plans. He grabbed the rope he had used before and swung in it, grabbing your waist as you let out a screech, holding onto him with all dear might. You were certain you’d fall straight into the ice cold water below but before you could think twice you felt your feet hit a steady familiar sensation. You open your eyes you had no clue that you even closed in the first place and there you were, still holding onto the man with all your might but standing on the ground below…

“We should leave before more men come back and notice the tiny little mess I caused on their ship” he stated, you realise how damn close he was to your body… your heart beating fast in your chest, perhaps it was the adrenaline of being rescued or seeing the dead bodies that flooded through you, perhaps it was for the fact that this bold man had laid his hands on you and it wasn’t for the wrong intentions, at least that’s what you thought it was?

˖ . ݁��𝜚. ݁₊

The music was loud, people chit chattering even louder, women with dresses that enhances the chest area was practically fucking some men in the corners. But after what you went through? The dodgy bar that Jisung took you to was a luxury hotel from what you had been dealing with capture at that ship…

You get snapped out of your thoughts with about bang, in front of you stood now a large pint of beer, fizzing and foaming up to the edges. Jisung then sat down and took a large chunk of his own pint he still held in his hand. “There we go, don’t worry, the beer is on me. I figured you’d need it after that whole experience. I doubt those shitheads knows how to feed a lady” he stated, chuckling a bit, using the other chair next to him as a stand for his feet as he let out a groan in relief. “Now, what was that name of yours? I didn’t get catch it last time”

“My name?”

“Your name”

“Oh, right. It’s Y/N, Y/L/N Y/N” you whispered. When you said your surname you saw how Jisung choked on his beer, almost spitting it out again in shock. He hit his chest repeatedly until the beer had gone down the right pipe again.

“Fucking hell? As in the Y/L/N-clan? You’re their daughter? You’re a fucking high class noble woman! How the fuck did you end up captured by them then? Isn’t that miles and miles away?” He asked. Looking at you with huge eyes, the foam of the beer had given him a light moustache. You let out a slight giggle from the look on his face, then you take a big chunk of your own beer.

“I ran away, they set you marry me away 4 days ago, that night I couldn’t take it, I hated that old man they set me up with, he was at least three times my age but the wallet weight more than my family’s love for me I suppose. What I didn’t calculate for was that I’d be captured in the middle of the night by those men who had no idea who I was, so they said they’d keep me as their whore, slave or both. I sailed stuck to that pole until this evening, so thank you for saving me, I wish I could repay you but I don’t have anything of worth on me” you whispered, feeling a flood of guilt flush over you, he had saved your life and you couldn’t even repay him?

“I’m not asking for a payment, Y/N. I saved you because I felt like it, not from the goodness of my heart, not from whatever your noble brain can come up with, I saved you because I was bored and saw you on their deck. Alright? No need to pay me” he stated. Crossing his feet over the other on the chair next to him.

“But there must be something-“

“Enough. I don’t need anything I promise, we’re alright” he said quickly. Looking directly into your eyes. You could feel your heart beat faster again… it could possibly not be adrenaline now, right? For sure he is handsome, but is he even your type? Do you even have a type?

“So what will happen with you now? I’d say get a new dress is your first option, you can’t walk around with your tits almost hung out unless you want someone to accuse you for being a whore” Jisung stated, which made your cheeks flush in embarrassment. You quickly tried to gather the material that was left from what the men had cut off, looking down at your ripped and ruined clothings...

“I have no money and nowhere to go, but do not worry about me, I’ll find a way” I say calmly, smiling in a reassuring manner, even if you were terrified. When you had ran away from home you had no plan, you just knew you had to get out of there before it was too late…

“I may have an old dress or two for you to get, neither of my mates will mind, it’s not like they walk around in a skirt ever..”

“Your mates?”

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

Your chest was beating faster than ever, you felt like you’d pass out any moment…

“You’re a pirate?”

Your entire life your parents had warned you about the pirates that hunted the seven seas. They took what they wanted, murdered, fucked the women and ran off, your father had always said if you ever had the displease of coming a cross a pirate run away and don’t look back before you call the local sheriff. Perhaps if you had heard about this before he rescued you, you’d agree to your father’s words but now? Especially after spending a couple hours with the man you had come to quite enjoy his company. A sexy man who seemed charming enough with perhaps a bit too big of an ego than you’d like, how could he be such a criminal? Being a pirate is a death sentence if you get caught, you won’t even get a trial? Why would this man choose this path of life?

“What did you expect?” Jisung asked in an amused tone as he practically carried you up the rope to his ship, placing you down on the edge of the ships railing, letting you sit there as he climbed on the other side and then carried you bridal style over to the deck where he sat you down carefully.

“I thought you-“

“Were a man of honour and prosperity? Ma’am you’ve come to the wrong place if you’re looking for a hero or a good man” he stated as he fumbled up a key that was hooked on a piece of string around his neck underneath his shirt. He then unlocked the giant trap door leading to the inside of the ship. You both climb down there, you were met by the stench of rum and seawater which made you make a slight grimace.

“We should have some women’s clothing down here from when we raided this noble family all the way in Busan. Like fuck you should have seen those dumb posh faces when-“ he stopped himself, realising that you may take offence by his harsh words about the upper class since he now knew you were upper class as well. “Sorry..”

“No offence taken. To be quite frank, there is a reason I left that place, no money in the world could make me feel happy in that hell. I may have lived in a mansion but that mansion was a jail impossible to break out of in my eyes” you say, sighing deeply as you start to look around through bits and bobs that was scattered around the room. “To be honest I’m envying you. You’re free, away from responsibilities, marriage, birthing children, preferably sons and don’t even get me started on the dreadful gatherings, all the noble ladies wanted to speak about was money of men. I’m tired of it..” you say, slowly turning to a desk with a bunch of documents and paper on it, on the top of a shelf that stood right above the desk was a picture in a frame of 8 young men next to the very ship they were in right now, you could easily pick out where Jisung were despite the low resolution of the picture, with his arm around one of the other guys with a huge smile on his mouth.

“That’s my crew, you see the one with the hat is our leader, or captain, Chan is his name. It started when him and I met all the way in Australia where we stole this glory out of some poor bastard who used it for the queens guards, we decorated it and then before we could leave Australia we met this poor bloke called Felix who joined us” Jisung explained, then pointing at a guy with long bright hair who was winking with one eye. “He already had a huge penny on his head at home after his father found out he was a homosexual, we took him in, we don’t give a fuck who he sticks his dick inside, he is our brother nonetheless” he stated.

“That’s very beautiful if you ask me. You claim to be a bad person but a bad person wouldn’t do that” you explained slowly, looking at him, realising he stood right behind you, with his head almost hanging over your shoulder so that he also could view the old frame, you slowly chew on the inside of your cheek… he really was handsome for a pirate… Han clear his throat before he continues, slowly feeling a bit unease by her words, why would a lady like her truly find him, a criminal, that good?

“Well we figured as we were going to be pirates we already would have a straight way to the gallons if caught, adding hiding a gay man on the list didn’t seem too bad” Jisung stated, looking at you for a few seconds before his eyes quickly turn to the picture again.

“And that’s Seungmin and Jeongin, we met them finally enough at that raid in Busan, they joined us quickly, they’re young but extremely fun and always tells the best stories when we are up late at night around a campfire” he explains with a slight smile. “Oh and that’s Changbin, Hyunjin and Minho. Minho is second captain after Chan, he is also the head cook, probably the only one of us that can actually cook well. Changbin is also the fastest at climbing ropes you’ll ever see! I swear we have accused him of being a witch at least fourteen times!” He explained, smiling at himself as he thought of his dear friends. “And a little secret, we are fairly sure that Felix has had sex with Hyunjin before, we don’t know when but there is something with the way they act…However, whenever we try to get some information out of them they bulge, what a dumb bunch for thinking we’d judge them” he explained and laughed. “They’re all dumb but… they’re the only family I have left”

“Where are they now then?” You ask, realising you hadn’t even seen a trace of any of the said men since you entered the ship.

“Oh they’re in town, probably getting fucked up with all the alcohol, that was my plan too until… yeah” Jisung admitted. “I’m sorry for ruining your plans, Jisung” you sigh as you quickly turn around, face as close as it could be without touching from each other, his eyes looking almost black in front of you due to the lack of light in there… your heart racing faster and faster, he was dangerously close to you, with one hand resting on the shelf behind you, trapping you between the desk and his body…

“Trust me… I’m glad I had my plans changed, otherwise I wouldn’t have had the pleasure of meeting you” Jisung whisper, you can feel his breath against your skin, keeping you eyes at him you slowly placed one hand on his chest that was slightly exposed due to the buttons he had unbuttoned. You swore you could see a slight smirk on his lips perk up. You could feel his hand that wasn’t against the shelf behind you travel to your lower back in a firm get gentle grip.

Before you could even think of what you were doing, you kissed him. You didn’t know what went through your head fuck you liked it. You could taste the beer you had previously had in your mouth as the kiss progressed, deepening and becoming more rough as you became familiar with each other. He hadn’t even questioned it as he had kissed you back the moment your lips met his.

The kiss was hot, breathy, yet you felt more relaxed with this man than you had ever done with a man at home. You felt how his hand that was on the shelf met your hip on the opposite side as the other before he easily lift up up and placed your ass on the table behind you. Then for a moment he broke the kiss before his mouth traveled along your mouth down to your neck and collarbone. You let a moan slip through your lips, the only sound echoing through the walls was the sounds of your heavy breaths along with whatever sound the sea could make from the shore.

His mouth leads its way back to yours, unable to stay away from it for too long. You let your tongue run over his bottom lip and he opens his mouth for you. When you feel his tongue meet yours, blistering electricity shocks down your spine in pure lust. You kiss him harder, his tongue mapping out every inch of yours as if he is in search of the lost treasure in there. He pulls your legs apart so he can stand right between them, feeling his body pressed against yours. You let his hands roam your body, then as he grabs some of the poor material that still held your chest in decent coverage and you hear a loud skrratch. That fucker tore it! As if it was barely anything to tore anyways… his hands cupped your breasts, breathing heavy into your mouth. His hands was fucking cold, but oh it felt so good. He then stop kissing you for a moment, looking into your eyes as both tried to desperately catch your breaths. The tension was electrifying.

“Can I fuck you?” He ask out of the blue after a few seconds of being silence.

As the words left his mouth it took you by a surprise, asking that question when your tits was already free for him when you had willingly had him like this. Almost a comedic moment and a rather funny timing on his part. Instead of answering you grabbed his shirt, giving him a wet kiss on the mouth. He took that sentence as a yes.

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

You had never met a pirate before, let alone fucked one. But there you were. He had somehow managed to move you from the desk to the floor. His shirt tossed somewhere along the way along with his trousers. Your upper part of the dress torn a long time ago but your long skirt still intact, him? He was under your skirt between your legs, licking long stripes on your pussy, holding his strong hands around your thighs, partly for keeping you from closing them around him, partly because himself needed something to hold on to.

Your moans echoed through the room, your legs trembling as you covered your upper part of the face with your hand, moaning louder. His mouth doing wonders down there as you were slowly feeling like you’ll reach your peak any moment now.

“I’m gonna cum, Jisung” you breathe out, heavy breaths making it almost impossible for you to say a full sentence.

“Then cum for me, darling” he growled from under your skirt, a loud slap echoed as you felt his hand slap ass. That slap was almost like the last thing you needed, you felt the knotting feeling in your lower stomach build up to the point where it overflow. You let out a breath of pleasure as you came, breathing heavy as you tried to catch your breath. You felt how Jisung kept licking up every single drop of you, feeling your legs turn into jelly as you tried to catch your high along with handling the overstimulation happening.

That’s when you heard it…

“Why is it unlocked?”

“I don’t know”

Then you heard a click, they’re loading their revolver…

Jisung knew that voice extremely well, so the panic arose even faster. He quickly got out of your skirt, his lips glossy from your fluids. “Fuck fuck fuck” he whispered, trying to gather his clothes.

“Guys it’s just me” he yelled, hoping if they were faster than him it would lead to at least them not being shot. That’s when he also tossed one of the dresses he promised you your way, quickly trying to put on his trousers. You act fast as well, doing everything in your power to get the damn dress on and you threw the old dress into a pile of hay in the corner. If you had more time to think perhaps it would be more melodramatic, throwing away the last piece of your old life as if it was nothing. But now? You had no time to think.

You signalled to the halfway dressed man to help you with the zipper in the back. Jisung went right into action, rushing over to you, managing with a trembling hand to get the zipper up right in time for…

“Who’s that?” A voice Said, you remembered him from the picture, that’s Chan, the captain.

“Oh!” Jisung said, clearing his throat, quickly wiping his mouth from whatever excess that was left from you. “This is Miss Y/N. I.. I- uh-“ Jisung said in panic, not sure how to explain to his captain what the fuck he had been doing down here. “I-I was lending her one of our dresses, it’s not like we use them right? I accidentally ruined hers by dropping beer on it” he lies, giving the captain a half sided smile. “But now as you can see she is in the dress so I’ll just go ahead and help her off the ship, thanks” he said and practically pushed you up the ladder to the deck of the ship, leaving the confused captain to wonder what the hell he just witnessed.

“D-Do I really have to go?” You ask slowly, looking at him under the moonlight, a light breeze making his hair blow in the wind… you felt a lump in your stomach again, not like last time, this time you knew… you didn’t wanna leave him.

“W-Well we sail at dawn and perhaps you should find a new place to stay and-“

“Can’t I stay with you?”

“Y/N… I can’t ask that of you? You’ll become a criminal, a whore in the eye of law?” He say, his eyes giving such soft look yet so much pain behind them at the idea of you perhaps leaving for good… you slowly walk up to him, placing one hand on his cheek, making him look at you… he had shown you more humanity, more freedom and lust within these few hours you’d known him than anyone else… you knew you had to stay here…

“I rather be your whore than a noble man’s wife” you whisper, looking into his eyes, seeing how the pain in his eyes flood away and replace with happiness as he grabs your waist, lifts you up and spin you two around, letting out a loud laugh of happiness. You let out a screech and held onto his shoulders tightly as he spun you in case he would drop you, not that he ever would… As he sit you down again he remove his hands form your waits and cups your cheeks like you cupped his a moment ago, placing a couple chaste kisses on your mouth.

“Oh this is” kiss “going to be” kiss kiss “fucking great!” Kiss kiss kiss “I’ll show you the world, I’ll show you what real freedom is”

You couldn’t answer before you heard a voice. You look over at the trapdoor where Chans head stuck out, he held up the dress from the haystack between two fingers.

“Uh, guys? I thought you said it had beer on it, not that you ripped it apart..”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

#fanfic #imagines #writing #stray kids x reader #stray kids #han jisung #han jisung x reader #stray kids smut #Han Jisung smut #pirate au #melioraskz

881 notes · View notes

mimiruuna · 5 months ago

Note

Girrrrl pls write more mouth washing headcannons like you just did 🙏🙏 truly you are a good writer and I enjoy your posts (I saw your intro and happy belated birthday!!)

thank you so much anonny!! so sweet :) i honestly love you for this request bc that means i can ramble on and on and be super unserious 👅 i'll section this off into two, nsfw and sfw!! (adding the read more link bc this is long!)

(reader is afab and uses she/her pronouns)

୨⎯ sfw ⎯ ୧

anya ۶ৎ

strikes me heavily as the "stay at home and rot" typa gal

and she's so real for that!!!

dates w her would definitely consist of little picnics, sitting by the lake and having deep talks, stargazing, pottery, library dates, all that good stuff >0<

she's totally slavic

i can't exactly put my finger on it but she gives russian/polish

will def give you nicknames in her one of those! (im not listing any bc im gonna be so embarrassed if i butcher my own language 😭)

if you're good at it, she loves when you braid her hair or do it up in fancy styles, she'll wear it for literally the rest of the day

LOVES seeing you all dressed up

like if you have a job that requires you to dress formally, and you walk out that bathroom with a dress shirt and slacks on??? ur gonna be a little late for work

she makes GREAT pasta dishes

vodka pasta, shrimp/chicken alfredo, mac n cheese, lasagna, gnocchi, YUMM

likes baking as well, but isnt very good

the most impressive thing she's ever made was chocolate chunk cookies that had literal pockets of gooey chocolate

can you tell im hungry

she's toned asl

loves the gym!

i feel like she dresses modestly for the most part in public but at home she'll wear crop tops and teeny shorts

definitely the type of person to give great advice but never use it

likes your voice, will say whatever to get you to talk (even better if you're someone who just talks and talks and talks) (me)

very comforting to talk to

WOULD NEVER JUDGE YOU OMG

you almost ran someone over? we've all been there!!

you actually ran someone over? why were they jaywalking??!

they died on the spot? ...get the boat.

i feel like she displays all of the love languages

but her main one would be words of affection i think

calls you love, dear, darling, all that sappy mush

wife!!!!!

curly ۶ৎ

ever since i've read what the devs said abt him liking snow sports i genuinely cannot stop imagining this guy skiing or snowboarding w you LMAO

but besides his love for that, he likes summery sports as well!!

like surfing, volleyball, badminton, tennis, golf, etc

dont take this in a weird way but i rlly just see him as the sugar daddy type

like yes he's your significant other BUT he's a good-looking man who looks a bit older, so if you look a lot younger than him then yeah ppl are gonna raise an eyebrow

but they have the right to bc every time you two go out he buys you something expensiveee

showers you in jewelery

he loves the beach!! (same)

definitely the type to massage sunscreen on you EWWWW (im kicking my feet)

he likes to give you massages in general, those strong ass hands be at WORK!!!!

my friend said he looks german and i can't get it out my mind, pls gimme opinions bc i totally agree 😭

sosososo nice and friendly and caring

loves taking you out on cruises, swanky resorts, michelin-star restaurants, the works

and if you like to workout he takes you on gym dates

my favourite

sometimes when he doesn't feel like going he'll just use you as a weight lol

likes randomly lifting you up

loves to listen to you ramble while he's cooking

good at cooking!!

calls you darling, princess, baby, beautiful

gentleman!!!

daisuke ۶ৎ

dream gen z bf

has a skincare routine he does with you every night

and if you arent there with him in person he'll facetime/video call you so he can "make sure you're doing all the right steps"

(he just wants to admire your LETHAL face card)

pothead >0<

this man takes you on dates GALORE

the arcade, thrifting, the mall, walmart (if they in walmart together they fucking RAW /ref), go karts, amusement parks, the beach, more i can't think of

likes when you do his makeup/give him a full glam makeover, it's so fun to him

lots of piercings

you HAVE to have a good relationship with his parents (saw this somewhere on ao3!)

has HUNDREDS of pictures of you in his gallery

has pics of you sleeping, cooking, walking, eating, watching tv, doing work, drinking, just existing

the type of mf to take like a thousand pictures of himself if you leave your phone around him

his love language is 100% physical touch and sending sappy ass tiktoks/instagram reels/everything else

LIVES ON SOCIAL MEDIA

he totally has like a fashion acct and it's just him trying on clothes and giving reviews

he has an impressive following!!

omg speaking of fashion, THIS MAN.

he's not like wisdom kaye level (one of his biggest inspos) but he can DRESSS

he'd totally judge you for wearing like socks and sandals or something utterly unacceptable

"girl. take those ripped skinny jeans OFF."

kinda like swansea is, i can see him being a sneakerhead (no i am not projecting)

calls you babe, dude, pretty girl if he's feeling freaky

jimmy ۶ৎ

he's such a pos i need him so fucking bad

he tries to clean up for you

shaves more, wears cheap cologne, tries to keep his home as clean as possible (which...isn't very clean)

is EXTREMELY dependent on you, esp if you're well off

loves getting high with you

off of VARIOUS substances 😭

mostly powder or acid but you two will shoot up from time to time

you've bailed him out of jail several times

committing crime dates!!! like

oh and yk eating out (at mcdonalds off the dollar menu), road trips (in his rusty ass truck), facetime/videocalls (his phone is so fucked up, his internet is horrible, and his camera quality is disgusting) whatever

hes so pathetic but he loves you so so so much

even if he doesn't display it like a normal person

his love language is definitely physical touch and words of affirmation

because that's all he can afford

very jealous, the two of you got into an argument once bc he thought you were looking at curly

tries to keep him away from you as much as possible

dont hate me for this but he definitely abuses his partners

psychologically, physical, verbally, sexually

but i dont care we love you jimmy!!

tbh most of the headcanons i have for him are nsfw, hence why this list is so short

im sorry!!!

swansea ۶ৎ

now THIS is a sugar daddy

(he's not technically bc you don't use him for money) (you better not.)

anyway!!!

he absolutely LOVES to take you out on fancy dates

likes travelling!!!

i can see him being a big fan of italy, germany, thailand, the bahamas

(psa: guys once before you die you HAVE to go to the bahamas omg its so freaking lovely and the locals are very very sweet :) )

oh he definitely enjoys a leisurely game of golf

he's such a sweetheart like he'll make you breakfast in bed and cook you a romantic candle-lit dinner and give you back massages and urghh

gives THE most insightful advice

actually super smart, will help you with any college work you have

his strong suits are math and science!

very good at cooking, devs themselves said he makes a mean paella!

i can see him being rlly good at cooking cultural food

like dont let this man make butter chicken or pad thai 👅 it will be GONE.

he admires you very often! you're so beautiful!! yes you!!!

he really likes it when you cuddle him

like aww imagine he's just watching something on his macbook and then here you come curling up next to him

AWWW I LOVE HIM

he's not super affectionate himself but if he notices it makes you happy then he'll try to show you that he loves you more physically

his love language is gift giving/quality time

having long talks with you is a must, especially when you are tuckered and all snuggled in your bed, and the tv's on but you aren't paying attention to the plotless show because you're too focused on listening to each others life stories, revealing little bits of lessons you've learned and why the way you are

ily swansea

୨⎯ nsfw ⎯ ୧

anya ۶ৎ

very gentle

unless she's like super into it then she'll start gripping your thighs or tonguing you down more intensely

she def watches porn when you aren't around and imagines the actors are you and her

but only the amateur lesbian type. that produced shit makes her cringe and uncomfortable

lots of toys!!1!=1

has the softest cutest moans

isn't particularly loud in bed, the loudest you'll get from her is a long, shaky whimper

loves giving head!!!

she literally has a fucking waterpark like she gets SO wet

not the easiest to turn on, which is why sex is uber intimate and precious to and with her

she's very sensitive and he orgasms are intense

also doesn't have the best stamina, will go literally two rounds before she's knocked tf out

PILLOW TALK

ughh she can't keep her lips off of you

even when you two aren't making love she's always kissing you somewhere

do NOT let her get a hold of a strap-on.

her stroke game is so freaking good like where does she get the experience??!

she likes your tits, her hands are always on them even in non-sexual situations

no matter their shape and size, she thinks they were sculpted by the gods

she thinks you were sculpted by the gods!!!

if you're super loud in bed then you're in luck bc she can't get enough!! she cant!!

she only initiates if you two are laying down, she'll wrap her arm around you and kiss your jaw

then she'll ask "is this okay?"

HELL YEA

curly ۶ৎ

oh man

he's 100% the type to put you in the most absurd positions

one i think about him doing all the time is like he'll be standing and he'll be drilling into you while you're UPSIDE DOWN

he's such a gentle giant, if you like it rough you'll have to beg him to stop being so nice

makes the hottest noises when you give him head

aughh he'd totally shut his eyes and keep a hand tangled in your hair and curse under his breath and buck his hips

when he initiates, it's always by lovingly running his big hands up and down your waist and pressing tender kisses to your neck while he whispers "i love you" and "so beautiful" in your ear

ooh that'll do it!!

you trying to initiate though? literally just kiss his neck and all of a sudden you're on your back

you call him "grant" when things start to get hot

like imagine moaning "curly"

doesnt watch any porn whatsoever

if he's horny and alone he'll just pleasure himself thinking about you

very very romantic, don't let this man find out it's valentine's day or your birthday or ANY holiday for that matter

like yk those tiktoks where someone is showing off a hotel room that their spouse decorated all romantically for their birthday, and then it cuts to the morning after and everything is all messed up after a few rounds?

YEAH THATS CURLY

for the love of god PLEASE SIT ON HIS FACE

likes risky/public sex

definitely part of the mile high club

loves fucking you in the kitchen

he seems like the type to grope you

but in a 'husbandly' way

like before he leaves for work he'll kiss you and smack your rear

or while you're cooking dinner he'll just squeeze your tits/ass

he loves ur ass!! i see him as an ass man

LMAO ASS MAN

good stamina, can go a FEW rounds

he will ALWAYS let you come first. no exceptions except for when you're sucking him off

he's so fucking good at giving head it's genuinely unbelievable

he likes his nipples played with

guys i NEED you to hear me out on this, he'd eat your ass/he likes anal

BUT LIKE ONLY IF YOU WANTED

but c'monnn don't tell me he wouldn't spit on it and get it real wet before slipping it in

daisuke ۶ৎ

THE freak of mouthwashing

canonically he's always horny lol

other ppl say he'd be a virgin but i cant see it 😭 he been to all those parties and he looks that good, are you sure he didn't get him some?!

watched a shit ton of porn before you two got together

and lemme tell you

HE DOES NOT DISCRIMINATE

big ass, petite, goth, ebony, asian, latina, blonde, brunette, bbw, interracial, WHATEVER.

enough of that

he's soooo noisy and sensitive like it doesn't make ANY sense

ESPECIALLY from head like he'll be gripping the bed/couch and moaning like a girl into the air and his thighs will be twitching and-

loves to edge himself

like if you're sucking him off and he's close, he'll tug your head off of him and take a breather before letting you do your thing again

LOVES recording you

literally i can see him downloading snapchat for the sole purpose of the 'my eyes only' feature

he's absolutely down for anything you wanna do

he would let you peg him tbh

gives super sloppy head

like it's not bad but he's just so eager and excited to please you that he gets kinda carried away

his tongue piercing feels so good

he noticed how much you loved it so he bought a vibrating one

literally wants sex like everyday and his stamina is insane

GENUINELY he can go all night

worships tf outta you

he is so obsessed w you and loves you so much like pls ride his face

dry humping is a lost art and he is bringing it BACK

he's like a fucking dog he's so noisy and messy and sloppy and horny and ugh

i love him so much he's literally me

jimmy ۶ৎ

extremely rough

like hardcore shit

he will actually choke you until you pass out and then fuck your unconscious body

same with whenever you go down on him, he hold you there until he feels your body go limp and then fuck your face

he loves getting head so fucking much

he has lots of...philias

i REFUSE to name any of them pls

intense groper

complete disregards the idea of consent

he's gonna take what he wants, whenever he wants it

and im okay w that!! 😻

wakes you up with head every morning

has a super high sex drive

the littlest, stupidest things turn him on

you spilled water on yourself? he's hard. you burnt your hand from super hot tap water and yelped? he's hard. he sees you cry? he's hard.

his stroke game is actually insane

if his goal was to make you finish (it's typically not) he'd succeed in a very short amount of time

he likes anal and he doesn't care if you like it either

ugh he doesn't even lube you up correctly

he just spits on it and goes on

he loves when you mark him up

leaves insane hickeys like that mf will look like you got SOCKED

he totally bites...just look at him

has sickkkk fantasies and expects you to mold yourself to all of them

likes torturing you for no reason whatsoever

he has a bunch of whips and paddles

something i always imagine him doing is coming home from a long day of work, pulling down his pants the minute that he sees you, and just going at it

swansea ۶ৎ

he would spank you

just to get that out the way

like if you're pissing him off he'll tell you to bend over his lap and he'll strike your ass until it's flushed red and tears are streaming down your face

but it's okay because then he'll kiss you all over and fuck you oh so nicely after

he's kind of but not really the brat tamer type

ehhh

as i said before: pussy slapping, face slapping, clit pinching GALORE >0<

kinda mean

like a mixture of praise and degradation

he likes when you spread your legs wide for him

sex drive is not high whatsoever

i mean he's like 50

neither is his stamina 😣 but he gives it to you super good

he usually just lets you ride his thigh or has a snack between your legs

he's so good at fingering

like imagine just sitting on his lap writhing around while two thick fingers are plunging into you and two more are rubbing tight, fast circles on your clit

loves kissing you during the act, he knows it makes you feel good

loveeess seeing you squirt/cream

he loves your moans as well, they're so cute to him and they're letting him know that he's doing a good job pleasuring his baby

he honestly believes that his job as your partner is to please you as much as possible

and he does that

girthy as FUCK

doesn't make a lot of noise

but when he's close he'll grunt quite a bit

another position i imagine he likes is one where you're lying on your side and your leg is in the air, and he has a grip on it while he fucks the shit outta you ahhh

after the deed you two will lay down and simply make out while his hands roam your body

that's how it starts sometimes too!!!

#mouthwashing #anya x reader #curly x reader #daisuke x reader #jimmy x reader #swansea x reader #anya smut #curly smut #daisuke smut #jimmy smut #swansea smut #i love exclamation points!!!#goingdownondaisuke ۶ৎ

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hoonieyun · 5 months ago

Text

locked in

part two to "locked up" read part one first! pairing: lee heeseung x reader "y/n" summary: you and heeseung have been texting everyday since you first met that night and although he tries to ask you out on a date everyday, you've turned him down and have decided to play hard to get. but after not hearing from him for a whole day, you begin to worry that he's no longer interested. warnings: mentions of jail and getting arrested, consensual skinship, kissing, overall 18+ not proofread lol genre: bad boy!heeseung kind of lol, strangers to lovers, down bad!heeseung x down bad!reader, romance, a bit of angst, fluff!

wc: 2867

you weren’t sure why you were playing hard to get with heeseung, i mean, he was cute and charming, and typically you probably would’ve taken the chance to jump his bones if he let you– and you know he would, but with heeseung, you wanted to play the long game.

was it the fact that he was mysterious? you barely knew anything about him yet he was so alluring and you just seemed to find yourself constantly thinking about him.

or maybe it was because he was kind? he did after all pay for ningning’s bail after they got locked up that eventful night.

no matter the answer, heeseung was constantly on your mind. like he was locked up in your heart and your ribcage were the bars keeping him in.

you and heeseung have been texting back and forth for the last few months and since that night, he’s asked you out everyday and to which you’d respond with a dismissive maybe or change the subject completely. of course you wanted to go out with him but you were having a bit too much fun playing the long game and making him work for it.

after all, you were a prize to be won and it wasn’t going to be easy.

heeseung on the other hand definitely knew what you were doing. he could tell you were making him work for it and he was willing to do whatever it was to get you to go out with him. he was on the same boat, ever since that night you had been on his mind and the more you played hard to get, the more he wanted you. playing hard to get was really working for you.

heeseung texted you everyday and you truthfully looked forward to talking with him. every now and then you guys would call or facetime at night until the two of you would fall asleep. even if you guys would just go about your day with the other one the phone or he would text you briefly to just ask how you are doing and if you’ve eaten, you loved talking to him.

however, today… he hadn’t texted you. it was 4pm and you were constantly checking your phone to see if his contact would pop up but nothhing. the last text he sent you was the day before during breakfast and nothing since then. not even a phone call, a little text asking how you were doing, or even an emoji or random photo.

nothing.

you had even texted him good morning and a photo of your lunch, instant ramen, because he had mentioned how much he loved it and there was still nothing. you were getting worried… had he grown tired of you? did he no longer find you desirable because you were playing hard to get? had he found another girl and you were simply just a pitstop for him? you weren’t sure but your mind was running to the worst case scenarios instead of simply thinking about how he’s probably just busy and preoccupied.

it’s around 9pm at night when you receive a phone call from an unknown number and typically you wouldn’t answer numbers you didn’t know but something was telling you to pick up. and so you did.

“this is the correctional facility, this phone call is being monitored and recorded for security purposes; if you would like to accept this phone call stay on the line…” and so you did just that. the phone rings for a few minutes and soon enough you can hear several voices and other sounds in the background before someone speaks up.

“hello? yn?” the caller says and your brows furrow at his voice.

“hee? why are you calling me from a correctional facility?” you ask, utterly confused and equally relieved that he wasn’t ignoring you on purpose… he was just locked up… again.

“yeah.. haha about that. i may or may not have gotten arrested again. do you mind coming to get me?” he asks and his voice sounded so soft and gentle in contrast to the situation he was in and it made your heart melt. you felt so bad for him even if you hadn’t known what he was in there for.

“of course, i’ll be right there. hang tight ok?”

“thank you, love.” he says and the line ends.

your mind was running wild with questions but the only thing you were focusing on was the address of the correctional facility so you could pick up heeseung and get the answers you were looking for.

𐐪♡𐑂

you’re sitting on the trunk of your car as you wait for heeseung to be let out. the parking lot was very empty, like this correctional facility wasn’t an active location, but the light inside the building said otherwise.

your heart was beating out of your chest as you waited for heeseung and quite frankly, you didn’t know why. its almost 10pm when you arrive and it seems like forever as you wait because it’s not almost midnight and heeseung has yet to be let out. you had attempted to walk inside and ask for an update about heeseung but the guard at the front didn’t even let you walk through the entrance, turning you away before you could even utter a word.

after waiting for another half hour without heeseung emerging, you decide that you would just wait in the car; so you hop off the trunk and make your way to the driver’s seat when a voice causes you to whip around.

“leaving without me?” heeseung says, a smirk on his lips as he saunters over to you. hands in his pockets and the same mysterious allure from the first night you two met. “heeseung!” you say while running over to him and you don’t know what comes over you as you jump into his arms, your own arms wrapping around his neck as he lifts you into the air with an embrace.

“hi, love. i’m so happy to see you.” he whispers into your ear as he lets you back down onto the ground. “i was so worried..” you mutter as the two of you lock eyes and you can see the sincerity in heeseung’s eyes as he hears your words. “i’m sorry, love. i didn’t mean to make you worried..” he says, softly cupping your face and brushing some hair out of your face. you pout at his words and his expression, clear that he was exhausted and although you didn’t want to pry about why he was here in the first place– you couldn’t help but wonder why especially when you were the one to come and get him.

“we should head home, yeah?” you ask, taking his hand into yours as the two of you guys walk to your car and you could tell that heeseung was tired from the heaviness in his footsteps as they dragged across the concrete.

heeseung lazily steps into the passenger seat of your car as you do the same into the driver’s seat. the air in the car isn’t awkward but the silence added to the atmosphere, like it was a situation that is supposed to be filled with tension but the silence was comfortable.

the drive back to your apartment wasn’t long but you drove extra carefully because at some point heeseung had fallen asleep in the passenger seat and was silently snoring next to you. every now and then he would mumble something in his sleep.

you could barely make out what he was saying until a very coherent sentence leaves his mouth just as you’re pulling into your parking lot. “too pretty for me.. too good for me.. i love her ok?” heeseung mutters and your eyes widen at his words.

love? he loved you? you weren’t even sure that you were the one he was talking about but that was until your name slips from his lips. “yn.. so sweet to me..” he whispers while stirring in the seat and your cheeks burn a shade of red. you weren’t sure that you were ready to drop the L word just yet but you knew that heeseung made you feel warm on the inside. like the warmth you felt when you hugged him earlier.

like the warmth you felt the first night you met him.

and the warmth you felt whenever you’d see his name pop up on your phone.

𐐪♡𐑂

heeseung crashes onto your couch and before you could even take a few steps; heeseung’s arms wrap around your waist and pull you onto the couch in his embrace. “so warm..” heeseung whispers into your ear as he cuddles up to your body in his arms, unconsciously placing a soft kiss on your head before dozing back to sleep.

you were a bit shocked at the sudden action but you weren’t necessarily opposed to it. his strong and toned arms around your body provided comfort and a sense of safety that you didn’t know you were looking for.

warm.. just like he mentioned and just as you thought. to you heeseung was warmth and for him, so were you.

𐐪♡𐑂

the next morning is something different from your usual routine. when you wake up, the warmth of heeseung’s embrace is no longer enveloping your body. you look around to look for him only to find his spot on the couch gone. you were a bit saddened to see that he had left without as much as a message or text but are instantly relieved when your him in the kitchen.

“you’re awake? hi, love.” heeseung says, a pot in his hand and chopsticks in the other as he stirred the contents of the pot. “i made us some ramyeon! come on, let’s eat it while it’s still hot.” your eyes light up at his words and you smile at his eagerness to eat his favorite food, the warm feeling returning to your body as you think about how happy heeseung seemed to share his favorite food with you.

the two of you silently eat the food heeseung prepared and although it was just ramyeon, it was delicious. he explained in great detail how he likes to cook and prepare his ramyeon and you could tell how much he loved it.

“so… about last night..” heeseung starts and you look up at him from your bowl.

“i’m sorry that i called you so late.. i didn’t know who else to call and i figured if i called one of my friends they’d just dog on me for getting arrested again.. plus i don’t even know why i called you either because i was scared that it was going to leave a bad impression. i mean come on, i haven’t even taken you out on a date yet and i’m already asking you for favors like picking me up from jail..

thank you by the way. for picking me up.. you really didn’t have to–” at this point heeseung was rambling and you could tell he was getting a bit anxious so you gently place your hand over his and you could see his shoulders drop as the lets out a sigh.

“it’s ok, hee.. i was happy you called me– obviously not the best circumstance but i was happy to hear from you.

honestly i was a bit nervous that you didn’t like me anymore or that you got tired of me because i was playing hard to get and hadn’t heard from you all day. but then you called me and i felt better again, although i wished it wasn’t from a jail phone.” the two of you laugh at your response and heeseung nods with the same dashing smile you’ve grown to love about him.

“are you kidding? i could never get tired of you.. this cat and mouse game we play is cute and i think you’re cute.. you could reject me today and i would still ask you tomorrow.” heeseung says and your cheeks once again are flushed with a warmth; a shade of red creeping onto your skin.

“so do it.. ask me.” you say, looking at heeseung and he just blinks at you a few times before thinking about what to do next. heeseung suddenly grabs the wrapper from your pair of chopsticks and folds it meticulously into the shape of a circle.

he rounds the table and gets on one knee in front of you, presenting you the paper ring.

“yn.. will you do me the honor of going out on a date with me?” he says as if he was proposing to you and as fun as it may be to reject him right now, you were done playing your game.

“i would love to.” you respond and heeseung’s eyes light up at your words, eagerly slipping the paper ring onto your finger. “one day, it’ll be the ring of your dreams.” he whispers, looking up at you afterwards when you suddenly grab hold of his face and bring him in for a kiss, one that he returns with just as much passion and haste as his arms once again find its way around your waist.

“i’ve been waiting for that for a while now..” you confess, causing the two of you to laugh.

“you would’ve gotten it a lot sooner if you hadn’t rejected me so many times..” heeseung says playfully and you roll your eyes.

“true– but hey i’m not the one who confessed that he loved me last night..” you say teasingly as you get up and using his shocked reaction as a way to slip out of his grasp so you could put the dishes in your sink.

“w- what? come again?” he asks, bewildered at your remark.

“last night.. you said you loved me.. while you were sleeping.. in my car..” you say, taking a step closer with each word until you were right in front of him, looking up at heeseung’s big doe eyes as he takes in your figure.

“don’t tell me you didn’t mean it?” you tease further, a pout on your lips.

“of course, i meant it.. i just didn’t think i was a sleep talker..” he explains and you smile at his cute response. “it’s okay, i think it was cute plus i perhaps may or may not maybe… love you too?” a confession of your own, causing heeseung’s already wide and bright eyes to widen further.

“really?” he asks and you nod, placing a kiss on his cheek.

“dropping the L bomb before we even go on our first date… hmm” he says and you can’t help but laugh.

“i mean, you practically proposed to me just now so we’re basically married.. and this can be our first date!” you explain, pointing to the pot of ramen still on the table.

“this is lame though!” heeseung exclaims, arms loosely wrapping around your shoulder.

“then i guess the night at the club was our first day!” you tempt and he instantly starts shaking his head, “definitely not that..” heeseung says.

“we’ll have a proper first date, ok? i’ll plan everything, think of it as not only our first date but my way of making it up to you for having you come down to the precinct twice..

the date will be perfect just as long as you’re there.”

you couldn’t help but melt into his touch as you listened to him speak. you obviously didn’t mean it when you said those two instances were your first date but seeing heeseung’s continuing eagerness to take you out on a date and have it be perfect meant so much to you even if it was something simple. you could tell that he was going to be someone in your life that would provide comfort, safety, warmth, balance, and happiness. even if its just from the few interactions, texts and phone calls the two of you have had.

“speaking of.. why were you arrested last night?” you say, peering away from his chest after going into an embrace.

“haha.. yeah so about that.. let’s leave that story for another time hmm?” heeseung says and once again the room fills with the sound of both of your laughs.

“i’m sure it’ll be a great story for our kids one day.” you say without even thinking and although you were a bit surprised it came out of your mouth, heeseung agrees as the two of you continue to stand in your dining room. your body melting into his as both of your arms wrap around each other. warmth emitting from your bodies as he softly rubs your back.

this was only the beginning of your relationship with heeseung and with the most untraditional start to your relationship, you knew that he was the one for you.

in a lot of ways, him getting arrested was almost like a representation of your relationship. heeseung being locked behind bars at some point was only a symbol of the way you held heeseung in your heart and your ribcage being the bars that kept him there.

he was locked in and so were you.

copyright 2024 - present © hoonieyun all rights reserved all writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned. if you enjoyed reading this please consider reblogging and following <3

special notes: @ikeuverse i know you've been waiting for this and i wanted to wait until your birthday to release >_< happy birthday love! i hope you have a great one <3

ᡣ•.•𐭩♡ @pagemiah @jiiyen @jnysaln @xh01bri @rairaiblog @laurradoesloveu @17ericas @manaah02 @heeseung64 @zorange13 @firstclassjaylee @leipforggy

#kiki diaries #enhypen #en-diaries #kpop #kpop au #kpop fic #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #enha #fanfiction #enhypen au #heeseung x reader #lee heeseung #enhypen heeseung #enhypen x reader #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines

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leclerc-hs · 1 year ago

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ex's and oh's - CL16

pairing: ex!charles leclerc x fem!reader summary: in which you and your ex-boyfriend are in complicated territory OR your ex fucks you in the drivers seat of his car warnings: 18+, SMUT under the cut, badly translated french (pls correct me), not proofread!!!! word count: 2.4k author's note: ok I just want to sincerely apologize for my long absence on here!!! i know you’ve been waiting for me to finish this for a while now LOL but I've been insanely busy balancing life with two jobs lol. So I'm going to leave this here. I can honestly say it's not my best work and I apologize for that but I really wanted to give y'all something in the mean time. I have a bunch of drafts I plan to work on whenever I get the chance. Love you all!! pls forgive me and don't forget to leave me some comments and thoughts xoxo

THERE WAS NOTHING that could’ve prepared you for this fight. You weren’t drunk, as promised. Although you weren’t sober either.

You and Charles were...complicated. Exes but…. still, something more. You would always be something more. Your history stretched back almost forever, and that alone made it challenging to stay apart from each other.

There was a point in time when the aftermath of your breakup made it impossible for both of you to share the same space. It invariably led to bitter arguments over seemingly trivial matters. One such instance was during a movie night with your group of friends when you showed up in a sweatshirt that was far too big for your body, obvious that it wasn’t your own. Charles simmered with silent resentment in the corner until he could no longer contain it. The memory etched vividly in your mind, recalling the knots in your stomach throughout the night, feeling the intense burn of Charles’ gaze upon you. He didn’t cast a single glance at the movie that evening.

“Who’s fucking sweatshirt is that?”

“Already fucking other people, hm?”

As you slid into the familiar supple leather seats of his Ferrari, you felt the warmth of the car hug you like a blanket, providing much relief from the contrast of the cold air outside. In the process of slipping into his car, your skirt had ridden up higher than Charles would’ve preferred, your panties nearly exposed if it weren’t for the sheer tights providing more coverage. Did you really go out dressed like that? He felt his hands grip the steering wheel tighter than normal as a waft of your perfume enveloped the car.

“Did you have fun?” His tone was neutral, but his body posture was tense. He barely turned his head to check if you placed your seat belt on before peeling out from the curb at a speed much too fast.

Sober you would’ve caught onto his attitude almost immediately. But tipsy you, thought nothing of it.

“Oh Charlie!” You exasperated, the click of your seatbelt filling the car as the radio was turned on the lowest possible volume. “It was so fun!”

He dropped one of his hands from the wheel, bringing his hand to rub the scruff of his unshaven jaw, as a deep sigh falls past his lips. He was annoyed—more than annoyed. The sole fact that you left him unanswered for hours wasn’t his only issue. What had his muscles all tight and the permanent frown on his face was the images of one of your guy friends being way too close to you. Too close for Charles liking. It was the same guy that his friends had briefly mentioned weeks ago on his boat.

“Cha, l’aimes-tu toujours?” Do you still love her? His friends sat around the table; half-eaten food left on their plates. He didn’t answer the question immediately. But everyone knew, subconsciously, that he did.

“Elle et Nick été proches récemment,” Her and Nick have been close lately. The phrase alone made Charles choke on his water. In that moment, he thanked the lord for the sunglasses covering his widened eyes. The burn in his chest began simmering as the conversation continued.

“Oui, ne sont-ils pas partis ensemble l’autre soir?” Yeah, didn’t they leave together the other night?

He couldn’t blame his friends for the discussion. They didn’t know that you two were still in complicated territory. Everyone always figured you two would rekindle, but it’s been so long, no one knew if it would happen anymore.

So, although Charles felt like the air was being sucked out of his lungs, he plastered a big smile on his face while throwing his arm around the back of the chair beside him. “Nick, hm?”

He made a genuine effort to control his anger. Honestly, he really did try. However, as you persisted in discussing the night, particularly when the name ‘Nick’ slipped past your lips, he couldn’t help but lose his composure just a little bit.

His voice took on a lethal edge as he maneuvered the car to the side of the desolate road. The act of driving demanded attention, but his mind was a whirlwind of a million thoughts. He was consumed by anger, it oozed from every pore of his skin as he scoffed and turned to confront you. Your eyes were already fixated on him, and his gaze instantly met yours.

“A-t-il touché à toi?” Did he touch you? His voice rumbled like a low growl, and the green in his eyes was so deep and intense that it masked their actual color, making it nearly impossible to discern the green hue. But you memorized those eyes. His eyes. You were familiar with every nuance of shade that adorned them. His breath was slow and even as he awaited your answer.

The idea drove him insane—the notion of another man laying his hands on you. And even worse, you wanting another man’s hands on you.

For a moment, you found yourself taken aback, only to fully comprehend his tense posture and the sharpness in his tone. Suppressing any inclination to react visibly, you wrestled to maintain a neutral expression, ensuring your lips didn’t betray a hint of a smirk at his jealousy. You didn’t even need to ask who he was.

“Et est-ce que cela aurait de l’importance s’il l’avait fait?” And would it matter if he did?

The fact that you didn’t need to even address who he was talking about, only caused him to spiral further. As if you were confirming that Nick is the only other option.

The car felt increasingly smaller as the anger in Charles grew. His knee was bouncing with impatience as he clenched his jaw. Yes. Yes, it fucking mattered. He wanted to shout until his lungs gave out that it mattered. He began to lose the evenness of his breathing pattern, becoming more erratic as you didn’t answer the question.

“Dis-le-moi et nous le découvrirons,” Tell me and we’ll find out. His eyes traced your every movement as your eyes narrowed at him, a scowl forming on your lips. The lips he dreamed about almost every night.

The silence in the car heightened, and with each passing second, you could feel your heart rate quicken. His gaze remained fixated on your face, unwilling to divert elsewhere. It was as if he were a predator, and you, his prey, captivated under the unrelenting focus of his eyes.

“What? No snarky remarks for me?” C’mon play with me. Although he felt like his chest might crack in two, he needed to mask it. Needed to be nonchalant.

The tension lingered until you took a sharp swallow, the muscles in your neck twitching, that his eyes shifted, descending to the nape of your neck. They fixated on the subtle gleam of your collarbones, still glistening with a thin sheen of sweat from the night’s dancing. His gaze traced the gentle rise and fall of your breasts with each breath. He wanted to devour you whole.

You felt your thighs clench slightly from his pressuring gaze. He is so fucking hot. His hair in complete disarray from running his hands through it. He wore a pair of grey sweats and a black hoodie that made you want to cling your body around him as soon as you saw him.

“Y a-t-il quelque chose entre vous deux?” Is there something between you two? His patience was wearing thin. You still haven’t answered his question, and the silence was eating him alive.

You detected a subtle waver in his tone, prompting a softening in your gaze. Your hand gently reached for his face, and he allowed his head to lean ever so slightly against the palm of your hand. It was as if your touch alone had the power to appease the turmoil of anger and jealousy rising within him.

And as much as you loved to get under his skin like he did yours sometimes. You couldn’t find it in you to provoke him. To cause him any pain. “No.”

The corner of his lips twitched up slightly as your thumb brushed against his jawline. His hands tremble when they reach for you, pulling you out of your seat and across the center console into his lap. “Est-ce que cela aurait de l’importance?” Would it matter? You repeated the question as your legs straddled him. His hands slid around your waist, resting on your backside in a tight grip, so you couldn’t move.

His mouth formed into a hardened line, as if he forced it to show you just how serious he was when he answered. “Bien sûr que cela a de l’importance,” Of course it matters.

“Porquoi?” Why?

“Why?” He repeats your question. Scoffing at the fact that you even had to ask him. As if you didn’t already know why.

You suck in a sharp breath as soon as his warm tongue meets with the nape of your neck, trailing hot and wet kisses up until his lips meet yours for a moment before pulling away.

“Mon coeur t’appartient.” My heart is yours. There was no questioning in his words. “Il a toujours été tien.” It’s always been yours. As those words hung in the air, your breath caught. You love this man. You love this man with every fiber of your being.

His fingers gripped onto your thighs with an almost bruising intensity, as if he needed to confirm your presence by feeling you in his hands, ensuring you weren’t a figment of his imagination. His nails traced along the thin fabric at the apex of your thigh, before digging them in and tearing them open instantly. You let out an audible moan as his fingers found immediate solace to the damp spot on your underwear. Of course, you were already wet just by looking at him.

“Est-ce que tu m’aimes?” Do you love me? He questioned, adding slight pressure to your cotton covered clit.

You moaned in delight at the contact but did not answer his question. It drove him mad.

His fingers slipped past your underwear, shoving them to the side, and slipping his fingers into your heated core. His fingers curled, hitting the spot you needed him most just right. Your back arched, barely grazing the horn of the steering wheel. Your hands were frantic, reaching for the waistband of his grey sweats as Charles lifted in hips off his seat to help you.

“Oh fuck,” You moaned out loud. The pace of Charles’ fingers had you careening forward with a cry, before he pulled them out of you completely, leaving you shouting “No!”.

“Relax cherie,” He clicked his tongue before pulling your chest flush with his, raising you up an inch to slide his cock right into you. He groaned as your pussy clenched tightly around him, squeezing him so tight he could barely focus on anything else. He held you down against him, letting neither of you move.

It wasn’t until you fully sat, completely full of him, that he rips the buttons of your shirt open, revealing a lacy ensemble across your chest. He traces the tip of his finger along cup of your breast and says, “Did you wear this on purpose, hm?”

You shook your head, wiggling your hips with a groan. You needed to move, needed to feel the force of his cock into you, but he wouldn’t let you. He just held your hips down as if he was waiting for something.

"You feel so good," He groans. "Squeezing me so tight."

“Cha, please.” You begged, getting agitated at the lack of movement.

“Est-ce que tu m’aimes?” Do you love me? He repeats again. A grin stretched across his features at your obvious struggle. The fact that you needed his cock this badly, had him only growing harder.

You bit your lip as Charles’ fingers sprawled across your neck in a tight grip, pulling your face to his. Close enough that your noses were touching.

“Réponds, et je suis tout à toi.” Answer, and I’m all yours.

“Est-ce que tu m’aimes?” Do you love me?

You don’t know what held you back from answering before. Because you did. He knew you did. He just needed to hear the words from your lips. Needed the reassurance that this was more than a quick fuck to you.

“Oui!” Yes! You half-shouted, eyes blown wide with need. “I will always love you!”

His hand released your hips, giving you the immediate go-ahead. You wasted no time, working yourself over his cock, moans eliciting from the both of you almost instantly. His hands slid to cup your ass, controlling your movements as he urges you to move faster.

“Mon dieu,” Charles groaned, his fingers dipping into the cup of your lacy ensemble, rolling your nipples between his index finger and thumb. “Je t’aime,” I love you.

The mere utterance of those words had you instinctively squeezing his cock with an intensified fervor, bringing you perilously close to the brink of ecstasy. A sly smirk played on his lips, a silent acknowledgment of the effect his declaration had on you.

You moved your hips faster, the bounce of your breasts had Charles in a trance before he brought his eyes back to your face, looking you deep in the eyes. “Je t’aime,” He muttered again, bringing his lips to your mouth, swallowing your moans as if they were the oxygen he needed to breathe. “C’mon, give it to me.” He begged, thrusting his hips upward into you as much as he could, eyes rolling to the back of his head until you both reach that point of ecstasy you both needed.

His face was bright red, cheeks flushed, as you worked yourself over him in a hurried pace. His sweatshirt no doubt, making him feel like a furnace, as sweat forms near his eyebrow. His eyes were wild, unsure where to look until they met with your eyes. His cock twitching inside of you from the clench of your pussy on him, and the gaze of your eyes.

“Je t’aime!” You shouted, releasing all over him and falling forward in exhaustion onto Charles chest.

Charles groaned hotly into your ear, his release catching him completely off guard due to the words you uttered. You could hear his heart pounding in his chest as you rested against it.

“Mon Coeur est à toi.” My heart is yours. His fingers caressed the ends of your hair behind your back. The both of you made no attempts to move.

“Mon Coeur est à toi.” My heart is yours. You repeat back to him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc angst #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #charles leclerc x you #cl16 x reader

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kingkat12 · 3 months ago

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hurt people hurt people (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: alcohol consumption, ANGST, throwing up, gore, jealousy schemes, Roman calling people uncouth mongoloids which is literally the same as in the book lol, and major risk of emotional damage (I warned you)

summary: this night would turn out to be the worst of your life-- of our lives. I hope you don't mind that I'm talking to you directly this time?

word count: 11,273

← previous chapter |

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･seven minutes in heaven masterlist

a/n: this is absolutely insane to me... I cannot believe I've FINISHED WRITING A BOOK?? thank you all SO so so much for being a part of this wild ride and for supporting my work, I couldn't have gotten here without all the love and all the comments, I couldn't have gotten this far without you all; therefore, I'm so so excited to give you the ultimate gift-- the last chapter of seven minutes in heaven!! ENJOY!!<333

... Alright.

We've gotten this far. It's Friday, and I need to give Roman an answer, so I'll be quick; after all the shit that has gone down these past months, after everything I've brought you along with me for, I only have one question for you...

Have you understood it yet?

Have you really?

I could sit on Jasmine's front porch for hours and tell you the story of Roman Godfrey over and over, but nothing would ever change. You'd still love him, you'd still ache for him, just as I've done since the moment I saw him. We're in the same boat, after all-- you and I.

Oh, and speaking of Jasmine; her party was the best I had attended in years. Catch the irony? The bass from the music inside thudded through the floor of the porch, vibrating up through my shoes, through my bones, syncing with the frantic rhythm of my heart, and I was therefore glad to be outside now; the ceilings had felt too low, the walls too close, and the crowd swelled like a living, breathing thing-- loud, erratic, suffocating. I couldn't think. I couldn't breathe.

But out on the porch, right now, I could. Even when I thought about the fact that one week had passed, that I was supposed to have an answer for Roman regarding whether we could get together again or not, I could at least breathe.

I let out a sharp laugh for no one but myself, clutching the bottle of rosé I had managed to steal from my parents' cupboard. It was almost empty now, which was a first for me; I wasn't the biggest drinker, initially. Or was I? I couldn't make up my mind.

Being drunk, alone, and vulnerable at a party wasn't the smartest thing I could be doing, I know. As if she would magically appear, I swayed a little where I sat on the porch step glancing around for Letha-- I remember her smiling at me when we walked in together, but... wait, had she actually? Maybe she hadn't? Maybe that was someone else? Or maybe I just wanted her to smile, so I made it up? You'd believe me, wouldn't you? You'd have no choice but to.

You have no choice but to see what's gonna unfold tonight through my eyes, actually. And maybe I'm finally talking directly to you because I can't deal with it all alone?

... Don't click away just yet, please.

Stay, just a little longer.

Yes, you.

I made sure to drink the last few drops left of my rosé before saying bye to the quietness of Jasmine's front porch. My steps were heavy as I dragged my feet back into the house, yet the soundwave that hit me when I opened the door nearly knocked me to the ground nonetheless-- it didn't take long before my head started pounding to the beat of the music again.

All I knew, was that I needed to look busy. I needed to not stay too long in one place, just in case I'd run into people I didn't want to run into; I was still a bit scarred from my hellish prom-night, where I hadn't managed to get away from Daniel when he dragged me down the hall. However, he wasn't here tonight, so my biggest evasions were Letha and Roman. Sometimes, you just have to be drunk and miserable in peace, no?

Instinctively, I toyed with the vial of Roman's blood around my neck for comfort, letting the chain slip through my fingers; I had missed the weight of it. Missed the feeling of having him so close to my heart. I twisted it in the light-- red, gleaming, sharp. It had felt right to wear it tonight, and I thought it would serve as a comfort (and it did), but at the end of it all, I was still at a party I didn't want to be at.

The music was too loud. The lights were too bright. Everything moved too fast, or maybe too slow?-- I couldn't tell. I wasn't even sure of anything anymore, except that this place smelled like beer and sweat and smoke, and I put away my rosé on a nearby table and switched it with an unopened cider a bit further away. As long as no one caught me stealing, I could get away with it, right? Now that I was at it, I also grabbed the jacket closest to me hanging on the rack in the hallway, wrapping it around me despite it not being mine-- the weight of it nearly made it stumble, yet I persisted.

The cider was cold in my hand, and shockingly so. Nonetheless, I slipped it into the pocket of my jacket as I choked back a drunk hiccup-- it was only when a couple stumbled past me, bumping into me rather harshly, that I realized I had to get away from the main event of the party, which was downstairs.

I felt so dead. So, so dead. My body was simply dead weight-- dead, dead, dead. Broken. I couldn't handle this feeling, so I climbed the stairs, clutching the banister like it was the only thing anchoring me to this earth. My legs felt heavy, but my brain felt heavier, and every step echoed through my skull. Thud. Thud. Thud. I stopped halfway up because-- I don't know? I forgot why I was going up in the first place. There was an empty spot at the top of the stairs, a place where the purple lights didn't reach, where the music was muffled, where I could pretend for a second that I wasn't completely falling apart. So I slumped down, pulling the jacket tighter around me as if it could protect me from the cold that had nothing to do with the air.

And that's when I felt it-- the pack of cigarettes in the pocket.

Not mine.

Roman's.

It took me a good few seconds before I realized I had picked his jacket out of all the people that had put them away on the rack, and I could only groan. Suppressing another hiccup, my fingers brushed against the familiar cardboard, the worn edges, and the faint scent of cinnamon that clung to the paper. With some further rummaging in the pockets, I found his blood-red lighter, yet the back of it felt rougher than before; I had held it out for him several times, you see.

I flipped it, holding my breath--

Only to realize that Roman had carved our initials into the back of it.

After all the times he had made fun of me for doing that exact thing to a tree a while back, I could only huff at the irony as some people stepped over my body to get up the stairs. The thumping of my head only worsened, because honestly? In this state? It felt like an invitation. Roman could've literally carved I-know-you-stole-my-jacket-so-take-a-smoke-you-pretty-little-fucker, and it would've been the same thing. Or did the carvings make it more private? Should I maybe not be touching this at all?

... Fuck it.

I took one out, hands trembling like a damn idiot, and lit it. The flame flickered, tiny and fragile, and I stared at it like I was seeing fire for the first time.

Then, I inhaled--

And holy fucking shit, you wouldn't believe how awful it was. Sharp and spicy and bitter, and it clawed at my throat like it wanted to kill me. Maybe that's what Roman secretly wanted? To kill me with these fucking cigarettes? I coughed, choking on the smoke, but I didn't stop. I took another drag, then another, until my head was spinning and my chest felt tight, and I didn't care. I wanted to feel it-- the pain of it all. I wanted it to be physical, wanted it to kill me. I wanted it to set my lungs ablaze, and I wanted it to burn me up from the inside with slow and tortuous flames.

Pained, I sat there, legs pulled up against my chest, with the cigarette between my fingers like it belonged there, and I let the smoke sting my eyes, sting my lungs. Over and over, I told myself it was just the smoke that made me want to cry... nothing else.

And then, of course, of fucking course, I saw him.

Appearing into the hallway with a careless laugh, I watched Roman through the banister of the stairs, standing there like some kind of vision, like the universe just wanted to punish me for giving in to a sinful cigarette. He hadn't seen me-- not yet. But I couldn't take my eyes off him, couldn't stop the way my heart leapt and sank all at once. He looked beautiful. Terrible. The kind of beauty that ruins you. Dark hair, unruly shirt, his eyes flickering with something I couldn't read from across the room; and then I saw who he was with.

Jessica was there, breathlessly clinging to Roman. My Roman. It was clear that she revelled in the arm he had lazily draped over her shoulders, and she giggled as her hand clutched at his shirt like he was the best thing that had ever happened to her, like she was blessed to be getting even a sliver of his attention.

But Roman wasn't looking at her, not really.

No-- he was scanning the room like he was waiting for something, someone.

And when his eyes found mine, everything stilled. The music, the voices, the haze of smoke and bodies; all of it faded when our eyes locked.

I froze on the stairs, the cigarette hanging between my fingers-- I inhaled, slow and deep, trying not to fall apart, and exhaled like it could push him out of my system as I refused to look away.

But Roman didn't move. Not yet.

It was subtle-- the way his mouth curved, not quite a smile, not quite a sneer. For a second, I thought he was proud to see me smoking, finally, until the glint in his eyes turned sharp, predatory. He glanced at Jessica like he had forgotten she was there, and in that split second, I knew.

And you know what's gonna happen now, too, don't you?

Roman shifted, turning toward her, and his hand came up-- fingertips tracing her jaw, slow, almost lazy, just like he used to touch me. Jessica leaned in, her eyes fluttering closed, hungry for him, oblivious to who, what, she was keening against.

And then he kissed her, right there, right in front of me.

Deeply. Lovingly.

Roman's plush lips moved against hers, his hand tangled in her hair, and the sight of it was absolutely brutal-- it was the kind of kiss meant to calm someone, to soothe them, to show them you love them, and it was exactly how he used to kiss me. The sight of it nearly made me throw myself down the stairs, my body aching with the pain and betrayal of it all, but the kiss wasn't about her; it would never be about her.

Because the whole time, Roman's eyes stayed locked on me.

I couldn't look away, not when he commanded my attention in this way. He kissed her like he was punishing me, like this was the type of psychological warfare-discipline I needed to properly understand that I wanted him just as much as he wanted me. And all I could do was sit there like the pathetic fucking loser I was, the cigarette burning down to the filter, smoke stinging my eyes, my throat, my heart. I felt myself grab at the vial of his blood tucked away under my shirt; I couldn't look away, but I couldn't stand to watch it, because I wasn't just watching him destroy me-- I was letting him.

When Roman finally pulled back (after a millennia passed, surely), Jessica looked dazed, like she'd just realized she was the luckiest girl in the world, her lips swollen and red. But Roman didn't even glance at her-- his thumb brushed his own bottom lip, that wicked smirk carved into his face, and he stared at me like he knew exactly what he had done.

He wanted me broken-- broken enough to come running right back.

But I wasn't going to break this quickly.

It took everything that I had in me to get up, yet I somehow managed. With a shaky breath, and with my heart actively falling apart, I slid up along the wall for support, hoping I wouldn't fall right down the stairs-- I wasn't exactly making it easier for myself, because I was simultaneously throwing away my used cigarette and lighting a new one.

Wrapping myself further up in Roman's jacket, I let the cigarette hang loosely from my lip as I hoisted my arm up to raise my middle finger at him.

Roman chuckled, clearly having expected it, before responding with draping his arms around Jessica, cupping her face as she continued talking up at him, oblivious that he was having a stare-off with me. Roman dragged his fingers through her golden locks like he loved her above anyone else in the world, urging me to come down and fight for his attention, for him, for us--

But God, he was insufferable. I could see it all the way from here; he was mouthing come on.

Come here.

I know you want to.

... And I really wanted to, believe me.

But instead, I snorted, rolled my eyes, and shook my head-- and this turned out to be one of the worst ideas of the night. Shaking my head in this state, full of nicotine and rosé, was certainly not one of my brightest moments. With quick steps, I turned around on my heel and marched up the stairs, away from Roman and his fucked up antics as the back of my throat filled with acid. I couldn't throw up on the stairs, now, could I?

The first bathroom I found ended up being occupied, hence why I stormed into the kitchen on the second floor-- how massive was this house? I had never seen a kitchen on any floor but the first. In retaliation of what Jasmine had done to me earlier this year, I stumped my new cigarette on the wall and dragged it along the tapestry, wasting it. My thoughts were racing with how infuriating Jasmine's stupid house was, and how pissed she'd be when she saw how I had trashed her wall, but I pushed my way to the sink, hunching over it just in case I was about to barf up my whole left lung.

The kitchen was loud, hot, too hot, and filled with the thump of the party music bleeding in from the living room. It pounded through the walls, muffled the laughter around me, and people shouting over the music blended into a hum that made my temples ache-- I was two seconds away from bursting into tears.

Thankfully, my only source of comfort appeared behind me with a soothing hand on my back, reaching for my hair as I leaned over the sink; Letha. Her touch gave me a major deja vu from the night Roman and I first kissed, when she had held my hair back when I felt sick.

Roman and I-- kissing.

Roman... kissing.

Roman kissing Jessica.

I let myself gag at the memory as tears welled in my eyes. "There, there," Letha cooed, bending down to catch the look on my face. I wondered whether she smelled the cigarettes on me, or whether she had noticed the fact that I was wearing Roman's jacket. "What's got you like this, hm? You just disappeared, and now..." She leaned in, sniffing me. "Girl, you smell like a bombed whorehouse! Who have you been hanging around? Jack?"

The memory of Jack Edwards almost made me laugh-- I caught myself, fighting back the acid in my throat as I made sure the vial of Roman's blood was safely tucked beneath my shirt and out of Letha's sight. "I drank the whole bottle of rosé," I confessed.

"What? You had barely touched it the last time I saw you, how on earth did you manage?" Letha's laugh was teasing, her voice laced with that soft concern she always wore like perfume. Heavy. Suffocating. I wondered whether this was how it felt like to live in East Germany after the Second World War-- watched.

"I don't know," I muttered, placing my hand over the vial again. If I really focused, I could imagine that it was beating, like Roman's caged blood was still pumping to his heart. "I don't feel good."

Letha hummed, patting my back over and over. "You can take it just a little more, though, right...? I told Jack you felt bad about what happened on the bleachers the other day, and he still wants to have a chat with you!--"

"No!" I sucked in a sharp breath, gagging on the vomit threatening its way up my throat. Grabbing the counter to steady myself, I rocked back and forth to keep myself grounded.

Yet Letha pressed on as she pushed people away from the sink; this party was way too damn crowded. "But Jack could be the perfect distraction for you!" she insisted. "He's cute, he's kind, he's nothing like Roman, he's!--"

"I said no!" Jack hadn't told Letha that Roman and I had fucked; that was all that mattered to me. Nonetheless, I somehow managed to not throw up when I straightened up, taking deep breaths as I turned to her. "You're really fucking insistent, do you know that?"

Letha raised an eyebrow, setting her drink down with a soft clink. "Christ, what's wrong now?"

I didn't answer right away, hoping my offence would sift through my fingers. The question hung heavy and loaded in the air, too simple, too dismissive. The noise of the party pressed in from all sides, but here, with her, it felt like we were in a vacuum, the tension building by the second, and just for a moment, I had the oddest thought-- Letha would've been a good KGB agent. Her interrogation techniques could be polished, sure, but somewhere in that blonde girl was an intense, manipulative Russian.

... God, I was way too drunk.

With a sigh, I leaned back over the sink, trying to keep myself steady. "Guess I'm just tired, Letha--"

"Tired from what, smoking?" Letha tilted her head, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "I can smell it on you, y'know? You smell like a Godfrey. Is this about Roman again?"

Something about her tone set my teeth on edge. I didn't answer, but my silence said enough; I was afraid I'd start barking if I opened my mouth.

"Are we really going back to this?" Letha huffed, softly, like she was doing me a favour, like she hadn't been the one dragging knives across my heart for weeks. "How many times do I have to tell you that you need to start taking active steps to get over him? It's like you never listen! My words go in one ear and out the other!"

I felt the first sparks of anger flare in my chest, hot and sudden; "You've told me a lot of things,"

"What's that supposed to mean?!--"

"It means," I hissed, gripping the counter so hard my knuckles were going white. "That I don't think you've ever really been honest with me. Not about him, not about anything."

Letha let out an offended laugh before her smile vanished-- the look on my face was unmistakeable, and it set her off. "I've always been honest with you, unlike what you have been with me!"

"Bullshit. Do you really not get it, or are you just pretending as always?"

Her brows knit together; "Pretending?"

"Yeah, pretending. Like how you pretended to support me, to be my friend, to have my back? I've let you do this for weeks!" My chest tightened, each word tumbling out sharper than the last. "God, Letha, you reacted like I murdered someone when I told you about Roman and I! I was honest with you, I fessed up, and you basically spat in my face!"

Every inch of Letha seemed to tighten. "You're drunk," she said through gritted teeth. "Calm down, please, before you throw up all over yourself!--"

"Oh, fuck you,"

"... What?!"

I had to suppress a grin; I had waited too long to say that.

Letha's mouth opened slightly, stunned. She glanced around the party, making sure no one was catching the verbal beating she was taking-- I knew she'd care if someone noticed. She'd care a lot. "You know why I reacted the way I did!" she hissed, lowering her voice as she got closer to my face. "He's been getting with my friends for ages, and you were getting yourself into something dangerous!--"

"No!" I cut her off, voice rising along with my nausea. "No, I told you about it because I trusted you! I didn't lie, I came clean to you, and fucking hell, Jesus treated Judas better than you treated me!--"

My yelling, along with the mix of rosé and cigarettes, finally pushed my body over the edge. Gagging, I threw myself over the sink to finally throw up; "O-Oh, fuck!--" The concoction that left me was beyond anything I had ever secreted. All my pain, all my anger, balled up into whatever the fuck it was that left my mouth.

Immediately, Letha's hands flew to my hair, holding it back as I threw up in Jasmine's sink. Despite our fight, despite the verbal abuse, she was still making sure I was alright-- it made my heart ache. Everything about this night was tearing at my heart, actually; images of Roman kissing Jessica flashed before my eyes as my body burned. Was I maybe about to have a heart attack? I was surely susceptible of one.

As I cried into the sink, sobbing with pain, Letha traced soothing patterns into my back, hushing me gently. "Shh... You'll be alright," she tried. "I know it feels like your world is ending, but you'll be alright. Someday, you won't even remember this."

My chest felt like it was caving in on itself. How could I ever forget any of this? How could I ever forget Roman?

"I'm sorry if I've been a bad friend," Letha continued, carefully stroking through my hair. "I hope you can forgive me... and I hope that we can someday forgive each other. Because at the end of all of this, through it all, all I ever wanted was for us to be friends again, and... for me to have someone in my court if everything goes down." Her words were small, fragile; "I just wanted my friend back."

I garnered the strength to look back at Letha, heart pounding, and before I could think it through, my drunken confession came tumbling out; "I slept with him,"

Letha's eyes rounded out as she slowly let go of my hair. "What?" she breathed.

"Yeah," My words were quiet as I pulled my shirt down to expose the hickey on the peak of my shoulder. "On the library floor, a week ago." I was sure she could spot the outline of the vial around my neck as I adjusted the jacket draped around me-- I could see in Letha's eyes that everything in her mind was actively falling apart.

And therefore, I delivered the final blow; "Can you forgive me now? Truly, Letha?"

The silence between us that followed was crushing, all-taking. It felt like I had been sucked into a plastic bag, with the air being drained with me stuck inside of it. Letha's lips parted, ready to speak, yet I saw that she couldn't find the right words to say.

But what followed would flip the narrative completely.

"Yeah... I can,"

My face ticked, and I felt my eye twitch as my words left me with my next breath; "What?" The music pounded through the walls, bass-heavy and relentless. Voices swelled, laughter spiked, but here, in the dim glow of the kitchen, everything felt suffocatingly small. My stomach was still twisting, nausea rolling in waves as I clutched the counter-- what was happening?

Letha's breath was unsteady, but when she spoke again, her voice was calm and unshaken. "I can forgive you," she repeated, like she was offering me the grandest admission of mercy.

I blinked at her, the words catching somewhere in my throat.

With a sigh, Letha brushed nonexistent dust off her dress before smoothing down her hair. "Because that's what friends do. We forgive, even when it hurts... And you're my best friend, so this time, I forgive you,"

Somewhere behind us, someone let out a shriek of laughter, bottles clinking in celebration. My head was spinning, my stomach churning from more than just the alcohol-- this felt wrong. Was this really happening?

Letha tilted her head slightly, watching me struggle. "I'm not going to pretend this doesn't hurt," she admitted, voice barely audible over the chaos outside the kitchen. "But I mean it. I just want you to be okay, and it's okay to... slip up, I guess. You're human, unlike a big part of him." She took a step back, giving me space-- she was the gracious one here, as always. "Because that's what friends do, right?" Her lips curved, not quite a smile. "We forgive. We put each other first."

The weight of her words settled in my chest in the most unpleasant way possible. "I'm supposed to tell him whether I want to give us another chance," I confessed. "Like... tonight. Right now."

Letha's hand found my back again, fingers light. I was scared she'd get mad, that she'd start cussing me out, but alas... nothing. "Okay, I see," she said, softer now. "I know you love him, but love doesn't change what he is. It doesn't change what he could do to you. Keep that in mind when you make your decision."

I swallowed hard, nausea curling tight inside me. Did I know? Did I really? My grip tightened around the counter; was I getting swayed?

Letha shook her head, her brows knitting together, like she hated to be the one saying this; "You don't have to prove anything. Not to him, not to me. You just... have to do what's right," She sighed, giving me one last careful look. "And I hope you know that I'll be here for you, no matter what."

... Fuck.

Roman's pack of cigarettes felt heavy in my pocket again, and I hated it. Hated the blood-red lighter in the other, next to the cold cider. Hated the way he had carved our initials into it like some twisted promise. But fate had a tight, deadly grip around me that I couldn't get out of-- I somehow managed to wry myself away from Letha and the kitchen with a red solo cup filled with water, downing it as I made my way down the stairs.

It was time to give Roman an answer-- the answer I didn't want to give him, the one I never thought I'd give him.

I shoved my way down through the crowd with my heart thumping in my chest. Was I gonna find Roman with Jessica? This was giving me an intense case of deja vu from all the times I had actually seen him with other girls, before we ever started dating. Was I gonna catch him making out with Jessica somewhere, even after he had sent me that excruciatingly long voice mail where he could only profess his love for me over and over?

But that wasn't love.

Him kissing Jessica in front of me like that-- that couldn't be love.

Letha had been right all along, hadn't she?

I pushed through the people dancing in the living room downstairs, trying to ignore the laughter and the small talk that surrounded me. It felt like a different world, one that had nothing to do with me right now. I was desperate for a moment of clarity, and the only person who could give me that was Roman... yet I didn't dare to find him. I didn't want to see him with Jessica. I couldn't bare the sight of it.

I shoved open the back door to the yard, and cold night air hit me like a slap. I welcomed it. The darkness out there was different from the party lights. It was real. Still. Empty.

I wasn't alone for long; I heard footsteps behind me, and the soft, deliberate crunching against the floor of the porch quickly become unmistakeable. The door closed shut as I leaned against the wood structure leading to the garden-- I knew who this was. Letting out a sigh, I reached for the cider in my pocket, cracking it open with a hiss despite knowing I shouldn't have any more drinks tonight.

The first sip was sharp, bitter, but it cut through the lump in my throat I got from knowing Roman was here with me, alone. I let my eyes follow him when he walked into sight, leaning against the wooden frame opposite me with that Godfrey nonchalance I was used to from him. His shirt had been tucked back in, his hair had been combed back into place-- something told me he had prepared to corner me since he watched me leave with his jacket.

Roman's eyes were so mesmerizing, so green. It was the most beautiful shade of green. It was such a shame to see them glossed over by that searching look in them, the exact look that gave away his hidden anxiety. Finally, he spoke, nodding to my drink with his usual charm; "I don't think you should be having more of those,"

It only made me clutch the cider harder, steading my footing on the porch so that I wouldn't tumble into the grass to my side. "Fuck off,"

"Oh, yeah? You wanna go there?"

"Yeah," After seeing him kissing Jessica like that? Sure.

Roman rolled his eyes, clenching his jaw to stop himself from arguing back right away. He looked so strict like this-- it was painfully arousing. He plucked the bottle from my grasp with ease, lifting it to his lips as if daring me to stop him; his smirk widened when I didn't.

Forfeiting my cider allowed me to dip my hand back into my pocket and fish out the lighter and the cigarettes. Roman's eyes widened as he watched me put two cigarettes in my mouth, about to light them both, before he snatched one of them from between my lips; "Careful, there," he said, throwing it away somewhere. "Don't get too excited. You'll go into nicotine shock."

"Don't care," I lit the one I had left, but not without glaring at him properly. "I already threw up tonight."

"You did?"

"Yeah,"

"Oh, you fragile thing," he cooed, amused. "You're going to ruin yourself like this."

I bet that some part of him would've loved to see that. I snorted; "Don't care,"

Roman's brows drew together when he realized I was completely serious, when he saw that my empty look wasn't wavering. "Yeah... I got that," He mumbled, shaking his head. "Jeez, you're dramatic tonight."

I let the silence stretch as I simply glared at him; if he thought this was me at my most dramatic, then he didn't know me at all.

Roman watched me, waiting for me to argue, to snap at him, to give him something to work with. When I didn't, his smirk faltered and his voice softened; "What is this, then, hm? You trying to prove a point?"

I inhaled deeply. "Nah, that's your way of doing this," The smoke burned, stung my throat, but I needed it, needed something to hold onto as my pulse pounded against my ribs; it made my pain about his kiss with Jessica physical. I needed it to be, so my brain wouldn't fry itself.

Roman sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Listen, I get it, alright? You're mad about Jessica. You wanna play hard to get, fine. But let's cut the bullshit, cause you're not going anywhere," He said it like it was a fact, like it was already decided-- "Not really."

He was so sure of it.

So sure of us.

I couldn't look at him anymore. I couldn't watch Roman fall apart all over again when he would realize what I had chosen, not when I was still so irrevocably angry with him. My gaze fell to the floor as I remained silent, waiting for it to dawn on him.

Roman's smirk wavered in the cold night air. He searched my face, waiting for the usual pattern-- for me to scoff, roll my eyes, shove him and say something biting but not final.

... I did none of those things.

His fingers twitched with nervous anticipation. "You're mad," he said, slower this time. "Say something. Humour me, yeah? Pretend that you actually love me, just for a second."

"Fuck you,"

"Baby, come on—"

"Don't say I don't love you. If I didn't, I wouldn't be standing here after you pulled that crap with Jessica just now! If I didn't love you, I would be inside running around to find Jack,"

Roman's green eyes widened— was it the shock of the threat, or the fact that he had made that threat a reality he had to fear? The party seemed so far away, and our life together felt even further away than that. "I'm sorry about Jessica," he breathed. "You know it's nothing personal, you know I can't stand her guts. I just thought you'd... I thought it would be good to show you what life's gonna be like if we don't end up together."

I almost chuckled-- did he really think that was a good plan? Did he really think that'd work? My eyes darted to the cigarette between my fingers while I wondered whether or not to torture myself with another drag. "You wanted to show me that you'll go back to sleeping with the cheerleaders while I become a chain-smoker?" I snarked. "Sounds like a wet dream of yours."

"That's not what I meant!—"

"What did you mean, then?!"

"I don't!— I don't want to keep talking about this!" Roman flailed his arms, frustrated; "It's not relevant, because we're not going to be apart, and because we're going to my place later and!-- and you're going to fall asleep next to me again, and your hair will be all over my pillow in the morning, and we're going to be okay!"

Oh, how I wanted us to be.

But the way he described it made me realize he might've not fully developed his consequential thinking. Did he really think that was a realistic end of this night after what he had done?

I felt tongue-tied by my shock, frozen like an icicle to Jasmine's stupid porch. What he had just described, was all I wanted. I wanted to go to Roman's place later, wanted to feel his arm around me as he pulled me closer in his slumber, and I wanted to lie around in bed while fighting sleep to get a few more minutes with him. Swallowing hard, I did my best to waft away the memories flashing before me, yet I soon realized it was an impossible task.

Roman's eyes rounded out with his next breath, his heart visibly breaking--

"Cause... you're choosing us, right?"

My mouth repeatedly opened and closed, stuck. How could I, after everything?

Meanwhile Roman's gaze flickered over my mine, searching for some confirmation, some reassurance that I was just being difficult, that I was still his-- it was a heartbreaking sight. It only made me grip the cigarette tighter, feeling the heat against my fingers. It was dying out, just as I was, just as we were.

Something cracked in Roman's expression. "You're serious," he breathed.

It broke me to realize that I was.

This had to end.

It had to.

Roman's face hardened as he took a step closer. The air between us thickened, turning heavy with something more than just tension-- something sharp, something raw. "You're seriously doing this?" he muttered, the disbelief in his tone prevailing. "After everything? After all of this time, you just-- we're done? Like that?"

My throat was too tight, and all the words got trapped inside. In a way, it felt like I was choking on everything said and unsaid.

Roman's hands were clenched, and the tension in his shoulders made him seem even taller, more imposing. A part of me was scared he'd pounce, that he'd be overcome by whatever upir instincts he had beneath his pretty appearance-- I didn't want to think about it. I was afraid I'd scream and run away if I did. To distract myself, I put my cigarette out on the ledge nearby; I didn't care about the state of Jasmine's house.

I wasn't sure whether my quiet motions read as nonchalance, but it seemed to shove Roman closer to the edge. "You're pushing me away, even after all my fucking reassurance? Even after your voicemail? I gave you everything, I showed you that I'm nothing to be scared of, and you're just... walking away like I'm nothing, over some kiss? Did you ever even love me?"

That question knocked the air out of me. "Some kiss?!"

"Yes!"

"Roman you've— you've proven yourself to be exactly who I feared you'd be all along!" I yelled. "Someone who hurts me!"

Desperate, Roman grabbed my arm, his grip tight, but not enough to hurt. His eyes searched mine, pleading-- "Come on," he begged, his voice shaking now. "I love you. I really fucking love you."

"No! Because you if truly did love me, you wouldn't be hurting me as a means to get back together with me! You're a child!" I snapped, finally giving in to my frustrations. Drunkenly trying to wry myself out of his grip, I felt my tears burn in my eyes, blurring my vision. "This has to end! You and I, it has to end! Letha's right, you will always want to fuck the cheerleaders, and you will always be a upir, and that will never change!--"

My breath stopped in my chest-- fuck.

Letha.

It was the first time I had verbally confirmed it, and I knew I had shot myself in the foot with it.

The name hung in the air like poison, and Roman looked like he'd been gutted by it.

He stared at me for a long, horrible moment, his eyes wide with disbelief. His grip loosened around my wrist; "You--" he started, his voice hoarse. "You're... serious? So that's it? You're throwing us away because of her? Because of the shit she's been feeding you to take revenge on me?!"

"It's not all because of her, Roman, but she's right! Letha is right that you'll always be dangerous, that you'll always have some underlying urges, and that you'll never be safe to be around!" My voice cracked as I said it; there it was, a cold, harsh truth I couldn't ignore anymore. "You said you'd never hurt me, but you're like a ticking fucking bomb in more aspects than I can count on my fingers!"

That was it; Roman snapped, his fist slamming into the wooden structure I was leaning against with a deafening crack, making it shake. "Bullshit!"

The boom of it made me flinch and squeak in terror, and instinctively, my hands shot out to push him away, shoving him with all the strength I could muster in my panicked state. "You're scaring me again!" I yelled, heaving for air. "Stop it! I beg you, just stop it!"

Stunned by his own outburst and its consequence, Roman allowed me to push him. He could've planted himself to his spot, could've resisted with no problem, but he took a step back for my comfort.

My heart was pounded against my ribs as tears filled my eyes. I couldn't have him barging at me like that, not when I was this hurt, scared, and drunk. A man that truly loved me wouldn't be doing this, right? My legs shook with the remnants of the heaviness of the conversation, and I heaved for air with terrified gasps as I decided to turn on my heel.

Immediately, Roman went into action-- "Wait, please!" His voice instinctively softened as he rummaged through his brain for the best course of action. "I'm sorry, okay?! I just don't want to lose you, I'm freaking out here!" He reached out for me, but it was too late.

I was already backing away, not looking back, not waiting for any more apologies— I knew I wouldn't believe them anymore.

Even the heaviness of Roman's jacket couldn't slow me down, not when I was this desperate to get away from my terrifying breakup-- the sound of music and chatter met me when I opened the door back to the house, but the pounding of my heart nearly drowned it all out.

Roman's voice followed me inside, each word an attempt to reel me back, but I wasn't turning around. I couldn't look at him; I couldn't do that to myself.

"Come on!" he yelled through the deafening noise. "Are we really doing this again?!"

I made my way through the living room, not looking for anything but an escape. The staircase loomed ahead, and without thinking, I shot up the stairs, taking them two at a time as my legs shook with adrenaline and fear. The air in the house felt suffocating now, the walls closing in as I reached the top of the stairs and darted down the hallway. This was not happening. This was not happening. I was too drunk for this-- were the walls actually moving? The more I looked at them, the more I had a feeling they were pulsing, inching closer to squeeze me to death.

Speaking of death-- Roman's footsteps grew closer, and his voice got louder; "Please, we can fix this! Just hear me out, please!—"

With my heart hammering in my chest, I glanced back to calculate how long I had until he caught up to me. Panicked, I grabbed at every room in the hallway, pushing past the people blocking my way as I desperately suppressed my tears from running down my cheeks.

This was not happening.

Roman dragged a hand through his hair, angry, desperate, as his long footsteps allowed him to chase me down with ease. "You're making a mistake!" he pleaded. "Let's talk it out, okay? Please, please, just listen, I love you, I'll calm down, I'm not going to hurt you, I promise!--"

With a scared squeak, I finally managed to force a door open; thank fuck. But before I could even step fully into the room, Roman's leg shot forward, forcing the door back, and in an instant, I realized there was no way I could keep him out-- I stumbled backward, eyes wide and frantic as I turned away from him to start planning my escape.

And then, my breath caught.

Because what I saw inside the room, was Letha half-naked on the bed--

With Peter beneath her.

My body froze for a split second before a scream ripped itself from my throat; I shrieked, mortified as I stumbled backwards.

What...

... The fuck?!

Letha and Peter scrambled to untangle themselves, their eyes widening with panic as they tried to hide the obvious. Peter's shirt was half undone, and Letha's hair was a mess, both of them completely caught off guard. The sight of them in that moment, exposed and guilty, made my chest tighten in a way I couldn't describe; I knew exactly what I had just walked in on.

And Roman, in a blur of motion, rushed forward-- his arms wrapped around me from behind, pulling me to his chest with surprising force. One hand covered my eyes, blocking my view of the chaos I had just walked in on to shield me. "What the fuck?!" he barked, kicking the door shut behind us. "What's this?!"

My mind was actively melting against Roman's chest. It didn't help the situation that I could smell his usual cologne better than ever— God, I'd miss that smell in the coming years, wouldn't I?

But Peter and Letha were still scrambling, wide-eyed, and before they could say anything, Roman continued; "Are you out of your fucking minds?!"

Was this maybe just a drunk hallucination of sorts? Was this really happening? Letha and Peter? I should've listened to Jack earlier this week-- I should've listened to myself, because I had suspected something for a while, hadn't I?

Peter was the first one to talk, visibly panicking; "Ro, calm down!--"

"Don't fucking tell me to calm down! What the fuck are you doing with my cousin, man?!"

"Letha and I were just!--"

"Yeah, I see what you were just doing, you filthy piece of shit!"

"Dude, I'm sorry, I tried to tell you! Over and over, I swear, I tried to!--"

"Tell me what?! Is this not a one time thing? Is that what all your bullshit has been about?!" Roman yelled. "You calling me at prom and then not saying shit? All the times you've said you were busy when I knew you were just at home?" I could feel his chest raise with the air he forced inside his lungs-- a part of me was scared he'd faint from the anger. "You've been fucking my cousin?!"

"And you've fucked all the friends I've ever had!" Letha yelled back, protecting Peter while struggling to straighten her dress. Then she pointed to me, eyes drilling into Romans'; "I begged you not to touch her all those months ago too, but you didn't listen either!"

A sick laugh ripped from Roman's throat, and when he finally pulled his hand away from my face, I saw it; the pure, unfiltered rage in his expression. "You have got to be fucking kidding me!" He stepped forward, eyes locking onto Letha. "You have been in her ear for weeks-- weeks!" He jabbed a finger toward me, his voice breaking slightly. "You've been telling her to stay away from me, telling her I'm dangerous, that I'll hurt her, while you've been making my life a living hell for the same thing that you have been doing too all along!"

"Roman, I!--"

"You sick fuck!" he barked, and the sheer volume of it made me flinch.

My head was spinning to the point where I thought I'd throw up again. It felt like a painful vibration in the front of my brain, and I squeezed my eyes shut as I pressed my palm to my forehead. Without thinking, I put my free hand on Roman's arm, silently telling him to give me a second. "How long has this been going on?" I tried.

Peter and Letha anxiously glanced at one another, looking like they were both ready for the world to swallow them whole. "I don't--" Letha started.

"-- Don't know," Peter mumbled, looking guilty as ever. "Three months? Maybe four?-- Ouch!"

Letha smacked his arm, visibly upset that he had admitted that. "Stop talking! You've already stressed me out with wanting to tell Roman about us, you've done enough!"

"He deserves to know!" Peter tried. His brown eyes were big with disgrace; "I told you I didn't want to hide this, I told you he might understand!"

This kicked Roman into the next gear. "Understand...? Understand?!" The boom of his voice made Peter turn white, and Letha grabbed the sheets of the bed as though they would somehow shield her. "Dude, you're fucking my cousin! I could rip your fucking head off right now if I wanted to, and you best believe that I do!--"

In timely manner, I suddenly gagged, clasping a hand over my mouth; that thankfully shut everyone up for second. This was too much for one night.

"She's gonna throw up," Letha mumbled. In true Godfrey fashion, she used this as an opportunity to start slowly scooting toward the edge of the bed, hoping for an easy escape. "We need to get her back to the kitchen sink, and then we can all talk about this when she feels better in a few days!--"

My hand shot up into the air, holding my pointer up as I recovered.

It was a very clear sign of shut up.

Shut.

Up.

I straightened my back, feeling my eye twitch with newfound anger. "Is that what you meant earlier, Letha?" I asked, my voice frail and quiet, yet steady. "When you said you wanted to have someone in your court if everything went down? Have you... been setting everything up for this?"

The silence in the room was deafening.

Letha swallowed hard; "Look, I just--"

"Have you been breaking Roman and I up so that I'd be on your side?" I continued, cutting her off. "You knew that Peter was going to tell Roman about you two eventually. And when he'd find out, you... needed me to be your friend again so that you wouldn't be alone. Because this will... this will cost you everything, Letha."

I gagged again at the realization-- Roman's arm shot forward to catch me from tumbling. I held onto him, feeling the tears press on in my eyes. "You didn't want to be friends with me," I breathed, my words coming out as clear whispers. "You just needed someone that was isolated. I was vulnerable, I was scared, and I was perfect for your plan, wasn't I?"

Letha's lips parted, but no words came out. She was staring at me, the usual sharpness in her eyes replaced with something I had never seen before-- guilt. Real guilt. Not the performative, self-righteous kind she always weaponized, but something raw, something vulnerable.

I could barely stand to look at her.

"Oh my God," I whispered, turning away from the scene. "You planned all of this."

Letha shook her head, frantic. "No!-- I mean, not like that, I!--"

"You what? What now?!" Roman snapped, stepping closer to the bed. His presence was suffocating, his fury burning through the room like wildfire. "You're always talking about morals, and you're always acting like you're so much better than me, but look at what you've done! So tell me, Letha, where's your moral high ground now?"

Letha's breathing was ragged, frozen in the most mortifying moment of her life. She looked back at Peter like he could somehow save her, but he just rubbed his face, looking more done than ever. "This is so fucked..." he muttered under his breath, almost like he was annoyed.

Roman's attention snapped back to him in an instant. "Oh, you think this is fucked?" He let out a humorless laugh; "You didn't even have the fucking balls to tell me yourself! You knew that Letha's been making my life hell while you've been doing God knows what with her behind my back!"

"It's not that simple!" Peter barked, scooting forward on the bed to shield Letha and give her space to breathe. "We've-- I've been into Letha for longer than I can remember!"

Letha immediately protested, and her face turned more and more red by the second; "Stop talking, stop talking, I swear to God! I'm going to die of a heart attack at this rate!"

But her pleas didn't stop Peter. He was ready to fess up, just like he had been for a while, now. His shoulders slumped as his eyes locked with Roman's, getting ready to face his biggest secret. "Letha and I used to date, man. We used to be... together-together. She was my girlfriend for a while, but we broke up because we didn't want to hurt you, Ro, and because it was getting out of control. It was just too big of a secret to keep. But then you got together with her..." He nodded to me with a sigh. "And Letha said we were free to do whatever we pleased, and I gave in because..."

Peter turned to face Letha with a sweet shimmer in his eyes-- the type of look I recognized from all the times Roman had looked at me like that.

"Because I love her," Peter whispered.

I could only watch as Letha slowly dared to place her hand on top of his, and they exchanged a painfully sincere silent vow.

The cherry on top for this moment, was when I started loudly gagging-- not because of the sight of them all loved up, but because all the drama, the stress, the alcohol, and the new sensation of nicotine. Acid crawled up my throat as I buckled over, crouching down as I tried to keep my breaths deep and steady; my brain felt like it was shutting down, and probably because it was.

Roman immediately bent down, trying to get on my level, but I wafted him away. He wouldn't be able to comfort me no matter what he did, not after how I had seen him kiss Jessica to get back at me.

I couldn't believe that I hadn't seen the signs. I couldn't believe that I hadn't noticed them being together when it had been right in front of me, all this time. Gathering strength, I spoke; "You're not really going to study philosophy, are you?"

Peter's head darted down to my crouched-over body. "What?"

"When I met you at the library," I breathed. "All that time ago, when you were reading tons of books about guilt...and you said it was because you were going to study philosophy. You've been lying to Roman and I, just like we've been lying to you. After all this fucking time... Fucking hell. We're, like, the shittiest group of people ever."

Roman, who had frozen to his spot in a mixture of disgust and shock, couldn't watch it any longer. His silence was worse than shouting. His chest rose and fell in sharp bursts, his nails dug into his palm, he had bit his teeth together so hard that I feared they might crack. The air in the room had changed; it was suffocating, thick with tension that pressed into my skin.

Peter dared to break it. "Roman--"

"Shut up," he hissed. "Enough."

Peter snapped his mouth shut, looking like he had just walked into traffic. Letha was frozen, her hand still resting on Peter's like she was drawing strength from him.

It didn't matter anymore— I wanted to get out. I needed to get out. Now.

"Rome," I mumbled, voice thin. "I need--"

His head darted to me immediately, and his eyes; God, his eyes. They weren't just angry anymore... they were desperate. He was coming undone too.

Letha seized the opportunity once more. "She needs air," she said quickly, standing up like she could actually be of help. "Let's just-- let's all go back down and talk about this later, okay?"

"Later?" Roman let out a sharp, breathless huff. "You don't get to decide that! Do you really think I'm ever talking to any of you uncouth mongoloids again?"

Letha huffed at the names. "But we should really figure out everything later, because you're about to lose your shit!"

Roman took a threatening step forward, and Peter immediately shifted off the bed to step in front of Letha. It was so instinctive that I nearly threw up all over again-- he truly loved her, didn't he? After all this time?

"You're protecting her, dude?" Roman snarled, nodding to his cousin. "After everything?"

Peter's expression twisted with something I couldn't quite place. "I don't expect you to get it,"

"Oh, I get it, alright," With a smooth, final move, Roman bent down to help me stand up straight.

I swayed in my shoes, my breath catching in my throat to stop myself from immediately barfing all over the carpet. "I need air," I breathed. "This night has been too much. Too many lies, and one too many upirs-- because I assume he knows?"

Briefly, I glanced over at Peter after spilling the secret, but he only looked more guilty the longer my stare cut through into him. Of course he knew that Roman was a upir. Of course.

Everything blurred together, spinning too fast, and the weight of my decision pressed down on me so hard that I thought I'd collapse. The room was suffocating, the walls were closing in again, and the heat was unbearable-- I just needed to leave, I needed air, I needed space.

So I pushed away from Roman, staggering toward the door. "I can't-- I need to go,"

Enough was enough.

My whole life had fallen apart, and I couldn't do anything to save it. ｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

I wrapped myself further up in Roman's heavy jacket as the world around me kept on swaying. I couldn't go home like this. I didn't even know how to get home.

How was I supposed to carry on after everything that had happened tonight?

But life is a tricky thing-- it doesn't let you go until it's your time. So my legs kept carrying me forward, down the driveway, past the parked cars, because I needed to go on. The streetlights above flickered, casting long shadows across the pavement; I barely registered where I was going, only that I needed to move. Somehow, my feet worked faster than my brain did-- I crossed streets without looking, stumbling over cracks in the sidewalk, the distant hum of the party fading behind me as I passed the houses in the neighbourhood.

All of this distracted from the heaviness of my heart.

I had lost everything.

But behind me, just far enough away that I couldn't hear his footsteps, Roman followed. My everything.

He didn't call out to me.

He didn't rush.

He just walked. With his hands tucked into the pocket of his pants, he walked like he was tethered to me by destiny.

And maybe he was? A big part of my believe it, but tonight? Tonight, I couldn't take it. I turned around to face him, my breath unsteady as all my emotions ravaged through my chest; "Could you please stop following me? I can't-- I can't think when you're near,"

Roman came to a slow halt. He swayed slightly, his shoulders slumped, his hair a mess over his face. He looked at me like he wasn't really seeing me at all, like he felt nothing and everything at the same time. Then, in a voice so quiet it barely carried, he muttered, "I just... I don't know what else to do,"

The admission hung between us, hollow and tired. He sounded so wrecked-- something cracked inside me at the sight of him, at the way his lips barely moved when he spoke, at the way he looked like he could fall apart with the wind. He had nothing left to give. Not to me, not to himself, nothing at all.

Looking at him any longer than this would kill me; I knew it. My heart trembled in my chest as my eyes welled with tears at the sight of him. "Me neither," I breathed, turning back around to continue my stride, too drunk to think clearly, too pained by the events of the night.

It didn't take Roman more than a beat to keep following me. What else could he do?

I didn't know where I was going, but a park came into view and seemed like the most peaceful option. The playground, the swings, the hollow quiet of a place meant for children, was abandoned at this hour-- my feet dragged through the wood chips as I made my way toward the middle of it, taking in the quiet of the landscape. Maybe this place would give us peace?

But Roman's steps came to an abrupt stop a few feet away. "Did you know?" he called out. "Are you sure you didn't know about Peter and Letha?"

I turned to look at him then, to really look at him. The streetlights cast shadows across his face— he was in the dark, where he certainly belonged. "I had no idea," I confessed. "I would've told you if I knew."

Roman let out a weak, bitter breath as he ran his fingers through his hair. "This is too much," he choked out. "This night-- I can't take any more of this. I feel like I just died."

A long silence stretched between us, thick with something neither of us could escape. There was no anger in his eyes now, no fire, just hollow emptiness, and I couldn't tell if that was worse. "I'm sorry about Peter," I tried, softening my eyes. "I always knew Letha was a bit of a cunt, but I would've never thought Peter would do something like this to you... I'm sorry."

Roman couldn't look at me anymore-- he raised his chin to look at the pair of crows sitting at the top of a nearby tree. It was at this moment that I saw the tears in his eyes, and the single one that rolled down his cheek. "I don't care about Peter," he breathed. "I don't care about him, I don't care about Letha, I-- I don't care about anything anymore."

My heart hammered in my chest— what?

"I feel at fault, because I should've known," Roman mumbled, his voice full of resignation as he rubbed away his tears with the back of his hand. "I should've known this would all fall apart... because it always does. People always leave. You always leave."

Fuck. "Roman," I whispered. "That's not—"

"I've been running after you, hoping that if I tried enough, if I did more, that you'd choose me... but you won't," he choked out, lower lip quivering. "Not even my best friend chose me. No one ever does, so... I'm done. I can't change what I am. I'll always be a upir, and if you can't trust that I'd rather die than hurt you, then there's nothing more I can do."

Roman turned away, and his shoulders slumped with the realization; at the end of the night, I wasn't the one who made the final decision about us-- it was him. His next breath seemed to be one of pained relief; "I can't keep doing this. Congratulations... You're free. I can't love you anymore. I won't love you anymore,"

He took a final, slow step back. "You're right... this has to end. It's over,"

And then, Roman Godfrey turned around to leave me drunk and alone in a park long past midnight.

... What?

Roman was done?

He couldn't love me anymore...?

I won't. I won't. I won't.

It echoed all over. It's over. I can't. I won't. But that's surely not how love works? Can someone just decide not to love someone?

My reaction to Roman leaving felt like a stolen breath-- painful, instant. It felt like my words clawed their way out of my mouth, forcing my jaw apart with one quick snap of bones, and exited with one quick, panicked yell; "Wait!"

It echoed through the park.

Over and over.

My hand laid over the vial of his blood which I kept around my neck, feeling it burn into my skin. "Roman, wait!"

... And it's around here that you'd assume this would end, right?

You're probably holding your breath, waiting for the moment when Roman's gonna turn around hear me out, tell me he loves me after all, that he's gonna forgive me and we'll live happily ever after, blah blah blah--

But this is not that kind of a story. I'm sorry that I made you believe it was.

Do you finally get why I've needed you along with me this time? Why I've been talking directly to you for once?

... No?

Fine. I'll be more clear. I'll show you the rest; I'll show you why.

My breath was stuck in my throat as I anticipated the sound of Roman's voice, the sound of his forgiveness coming out to soothe me. This was probably proper karmic retribution for me, sure, but could this really be the end?

Now that he was truly walking away, it hit me like a freight train; I didn't want it to end.

I didn't want to let him go, especially now that he was letting go of me.

It could work, right?

Every nerve in my body screamed at me to move, so I did. When I realized Roman wasn't turning back around, I choked down a brewing sob and hurried to keep up after him. "Rome, please!"

The nickname had him twitching; it was clear that he was upset about his choice, his forced resignation, and the doubt in his body was a consolation to my momentary panic. But in that moment, his head also turned to the side, and I saw something flicker in his eyes. In no time, completely out of the blue, Roman picked up his pace and started walking in a completely different direction like a dog in a fox-chase. His nose flared, his posture shifted-- he wasn't just walking away from me, he was sensing something.

What was happening?

"Wait!" My voice cracked, rising with panic. He wasn't stopping. He really wasn't stopping. "Stop it! Where are you going?!" Would we ever stop chasing each other? "Do you really expect me to be okay so easily after you kissed Jessica like that?! This is-- This is too much pressure, this is insane! Give me a minute to think at least, stop running!"

Roman's movements were so fast, so precise, that it felt like I was trying to catch up to a ghost. The distance between us seemed to stretch, and I could feel my limbs growing heavier with each step, the weight of my emotions and alcohol pulling me down. But I kept going, desperate, with my heart drumming in my ears.

And when Roman finally came to a halt in the outskirts of the park, I lunged forward; I tugged at the sleeve of his shirt, stumbling as I clung to him, forcing him to see me, to hear me. I let out a choked sob against him, desperate to not let go of the man that I loved. "Hear me out, okay?" I cried. "Just give me a second, I'm too drunk to think!"

But Roman didn't react.

Didn't look.

Because his gaze was frozen on something completely different.

There, tucked into one of the small, plastic playhouses, was a shape. A person.

Confused and broken, my gaze followed his. At first, it barely registered-- it was just someone that had passed out, curled up in the cramped space like a drunk trying to sleep it off. It was the kind of thing you might see after a party, someone who never made it home. That was normal; I didn't think much of it, confused by Roman's entrancement, until I recognized the pink clips in the person's hair.

That was Brooke Bluebell, wasn't it?

Fuck-- it was.

Then, I saw the way Roman's face shifted, the way his nostrils flared, the way he inhaled. It immediately made me step away from him and toward Brooke. Something cold crawled down my spine; "Roman?" I whispered, instantly feeling beyond nauseous once again. "Maybe we should?--"

His arm shot out, barring me from moving any closer. "Wait," he snapped, his voice coated with warning and concern.

The smell hit me a second later.

Coppery. Thick.

I gagged when I finally got a proper look, and I stumbled back as the truth crashed over me.

Brooke Bluebell wasn't sleeping.

She was laying in her own blood, her eyes wide open as her drained body looked frozen in a scream-- her intestines had been dragged out of her stomach, scattered along her torso, and her legs were gone, as though mauled from beneath.

Slowly, Roman turned to me, pupils dilated beyond normal; I knew his upir senses were screaming inside his head. "I thought the smell of blood was thicker because you were on your period or something," he breathed. "I thought-- fuck."

My mind was spinning beyond control, and only the sound of our heavy breathing filled the playground until the distant wail of sirens cut through the silence. I flinched, feeling my heart-rate spike; "Shit!-- Roman, we can't be here!" I grabbed his arm, trying to pull him away. "Please! You can't be exposed to this, we've gotta go!"

But Roman didn't move.

He wouldn't.

It was clear that he was trying to drown out whatever his upir senses were telling him to do, and I had no idea how I was supposed to reel him away from the edge.

The sirens howled closer, and the wind picked up, scattering the scent of blood into the cold night air.

... Brooke Bluebell was dead.

And we were about to be caught at the scene of her murder.

(a/n: AAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!! WELCOME TO THE PLOT OF BOOK 2! I WILL BE MAKING AN ANNOUNCEMENT THIS WEEKEND, BUT BEFORE THAT--- THANK YOU SO SO SO MUCH MY SWEETHEARTS FOR READING THIS FAR!!🥹🌸 I have been building towards the Letha and Peter reveal since the STARTTTT AHHHH FINALLY IT'S YOURS!!! FINALLY I CAN SHARE IT!!! MY HEART IS YOURS, AND SO IS MY WORK, SO THANK YOU<3333 AND I'M SORRY FOR THIS OH GOD???)

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authorhjk1 · 8 months ago

Note

Idk if you saw but Yuri of SNSD posted a bikini pic, hoping we can get a sunbae series out of that or just a quickie one shot? She’s driving me nuts lol.

Shore leave

(Kwon Yuri X Julie X Belle X Natty X Haneul X Male Reader)

"Captain!"

You tear your eyes off the controls and turn around. Your XO is standing behind you.

"We've just reported back that our mission was a success. We will enter Honolulu Harbor within twenty minutes."

"Prepare to surface the boat."

"Aye, captain."

Jackson turns to his left.

"Chief of the Watch, blow main ballast tanks!"

The chief of Watch replies.

"Blow main ballast tanks, aye. Blowing main ballast tanks."

You start to walk towards the captain's cabin to finish your report. There is no need for you to be standing around the control room. The thirty man crew can do this while asleep.

"All ahead one-third, surface!"

"Raising the planes!"

"Clear the baffles!"

Opening the door, you look back into the control room. Jackson is standing at its center, overlooking everyone's actions.

"Periscope raised."

The man behind him, Miller, is making sure that it's free to surface.

"Surface is clear!"

You step inside and close the door behind you.

"Surface! Surface! Surface!"

Jackson's command is the last you hear as your submarine is about to see daylight once more.

Stepping foot on land feels odd after forty days underwater. You try to walk as normal as possible, while your crew follows you off the boat. A group of soldiers walk in your direction.

"Captain."

The man salutes you and you do the same.

"Major."

He extends his hand for you to shake.

"Happy birthday, old man."

"Thank you."

You laugh, happy to see him again for the first time in years.

"You and your crew deserve some rest while you're here."

He hands you a couple black cards, which look like key cards to hotel rooms.

"You should stay at a fancier place than the barracks. Order from the lieutenant colonel."

"I appreciate it. Please give him my thanks."

"I will. Now get out of here."

The two of you pat each other's shoulder, before you keep walking.

"Skipper."

You acknowledge lieutenant Kang's presence. The young man is barely 22 years old, but his career has been impressive so far. The worst thing about him? He found out that you used to listen to kpop.

"Have you talked to the major yet, sir?"

"I did."

The two of you walk in silence, while the crew walks after you, until Kang can't hold it in anymore.

"Did he give me permission to-"

"He did. But you have to behave yourself, lieutenant. No drinking, no fights, or any other way to get yourself into trouble."

You know that he has a short temper. But you trust him not abuse your trust.

"Everyone is on leave. And you're allowed to go to their concert."

"Thank you, sir."

You sigh as you reach the car that the major has left for you. Most of your men will head to the barracks. You, Jackson and Miller all got a room at a hotel, being the highest ranking officers on board. And you're letting the young lieutenant tag along.

After checking in, you decided to head to the hotel's pool. Being trapped in a steel cage several miles underwater with thirty men can get on your nerves. And since it's your birthday, you're more than happy to relax and clean your body. Although the number one reason to why you're not in your room, taking a well deserved nap, are the women. You don't remember the last time you talked with a woman for over ten minutes within almost a year. Living in your barracks, training younger soldiers and going on missions that take more than a month, don't leave you with a lot of free time. And the last months had been stressful and draining.

You realize that there aren't many empty deck chairs left as you make your way through the rather crowded area around the pool.

"Skipper!"

You turn your head to see Jackson, who is already sitting on one of the chairs. Miller is sitting to his left, while one on the right still seems to be empty. Skipper is usually not the term captains are addressed with, and some would tell them to shut the hell up, but you're easygoing. At least on land, when you're not on a mission. As long as your men know that you're in charge, you don't really care what they call you.

"Well, you guys came out here really quick."

"Forty days. I need some sun, sir."

You smirk at Miller's complaint, before getting comfortable on the empty chair.

"Do you know how long we have, until we get going again?"

You shake your head at Jackson's question.

"I don't. But I know what our next mission is about."

The two men don't ask for more information, knowing full well that you're not gonna tell them in a public area like this one.

"Let's hope we can relax a little longer than last time."

"Agreed."

You close your eyes, while you listen to the two men chatting.

"I like it here. The weather is nice."

"Just the weather?"

When you open your eyes again, you realize that you've fallen asleep. Quickly looking to your left, you don't see Miller or Jackson.

"Bastards."

You mumble, knowing what they're up to. The three of you have been become good friends over the years. It would surprise you, if they weren't out and about right now, looking for a bar to take you to later today.

"Excuse me?"

You turn to your right, only now realizing that someone is sitting there.

Her face is hidden by her bucket hat and her sunglasses. But it's not her face you're focused on right now anyway. Your eyes quickly scan her barely clothed body. Her white bikini matches the bucket hat. Even without seeing her face, you can tell how beautiful she is.

"I apologize. I wasn't talking to you. I just realized that my friends ran off without me."

"Those are some great friends you have."

"Well, I can't blame them. I already overheard them talking about a party this morning."

"Oh a party? What's to celebrate?"

"It's my birthday today."

"Congratulations. I hope you have a great year."

"Thank you. It would already improve my year quite a lot, if I knew your name."

You see her chuckle at your attempt to flirt with her. She hesitates for a moment, before she answers.

"Yuri. Kwon Yuri."

"Nice to meet you."

You reach out your hand and she shakes it as you tell her your name.

Hers does sounds familiar, but you can't really tell.

"Are you here on vacation as well?"

You shake your head at her question.

"Not exactly. Me and my crew are just having a shore leave, while we wait for our next mission."

"Oh, you're in the military?"

"I am. Navy."

"Oh, that's so cool. Do you work on one of those big ships that are lying in the harbor nearby? I walked past them yesterday."

"No, I'm the captain of a submarine. We only got here a couple hours ago."

"Submarine? You don't hear that everyday."

You try to steer the conversation in another direction. There isn't much to talk about when it comes to your job anyways. At least not something you're allowed to talk about.

"So you're here on vacation?"

You haven't had the pleasure of sleeping with a woman for way too long. And you have to admit it's getting harder to restrain yourself. If your lucky and Yuri is down for something more than just talking...

"I am. I've been working a lot recently and thought I would take a break, now that my project is done."

"Your project?"

"I'm an actress."

"I'm actually not surprised to hear that. It would be a shame if someone beautiful like you didn't show her face on TV."

You bite your lip, knowing that you're going a little fast here. But if this the opportunity you were hoping for, you're definitely going to take it.

"Thank you. Although I like to think that I got this far because of my skills. Not because I'm pretty."

You nod in understanding.

"That's true. Have I seen you in anything? Or have you just started acting?"

"I've been doing this for a while, but I doubt you've seen me before."

"Okay, then. What genre do you usually do? Action? Romance?"

"I played a love interest of the male lead for my last project."

"Damn. Now I'm jealous of the guy who played him."

Yuri laughs, covering her mouth with her hand.

"You can't keep complementing me like this."

"Why not? I haven't seen a woman in over a month. I have to get everything out of my system at some point."

"Well, there are a lot of beautiful women here. I think you're being a little unjust by only giving me your attention."

Her smile tells you that she doesn't really mind at all. You make a point of looking around the area and the pool.

"Nope. I think I'm talking with the most beautiful woman here, right now."

"You can't stop, can you?"

Her amused smile makes you smile too.

"Like I said, I need someone to let this all out on."

You didn't expect Yuri to slightly bite her lip at your words. And then you realize that one could take your words in a different way.

"You really seem to be in need of some.... release."

You clear your throat.

"But you can keep going of course."

Yuri takes off her sunglasses and now smiles at you with her eyes as well. You already knew she was beautiful, but this is on another level. At the same time, you do feel like you've seen her before. Maybe in a movie?

"It's not like I don't like it..."

"I need more."

Yuri gives you a happy and proud smile, before you capture her lips once more. You pin her against your hotel room's door. The two of you engage in another kiss. It's filled with passion and lust. You've been waiting for this for months. You don't know the last time Yuri got off. But judging from how hard she is kissing you back, you guess that it has been a while for her too. Or she's just turned on as hell.

Your hands leave her waist and start to explore her exposed skin. Yuri yanks off her bucket hat and throws it behind you. Her hair is a little more messy now as her own hands roam your body. While one of yours trails along the strings of her bikini towards the knots on her back, one of hers uses a finger and slowly travels down your spine, giving you goosebumps. Your second hand is lazily drawing circles on her flat midriff before it playfully tugs at the strings right beneath her chest. Her other hand mirrors your circles, but on your chest. You can feel her paying extra attention to your large tattoo, which she looked at earlier a little too long.

While you keep your lips locked with hers, you start to slowly undo Yuri's knots on her back. She draws along the lines of your tattoo. A big anchor. An equally sized dragon is winding itself around it.

Once you are finished with the first knot, you feel Yuri's breath shake a little as you both give each other a second to breathe. But soon, you're back at it again. Her hand, previously on your back, is now on your hip as she plays with the waistband of your trunks. Another knot follows the first.

You are getting bolder, now that she allowed you to undo her bikini. You let your hands travel along her waist and up to her chest. Yuri breaks the kiss as she feels your hands over her top. You give her tits a squeeze, making Yuri let out a moan. She has a smile on her face again, her arms now loosely placed on your shoulders. Her head slowly rolls back as you keep kneading her soft mounds.

"Your hands feel great. I love it."

Yuri now lets her own travel down your figure, until they're reach your trunks once more. You reach behind her and finally undo her top, before slowly taking it off her. Taking in the sight of her tits, you stay in place for a moment. But then you feel Yuri undo the tie on the front of your boxers agonizingly slow. You finally look into her eyes. She stares back at you as her fingers do their work.

Once she is done, you feel her thumbs glide between your skin and the waistband. Slowly she pulls them down. Around halfway past your hips, your trunks fall to the floor on their own. Yuri has a satisfied smile on her face as she looks down on you.

After you'd taken off her bottoms too, there wasn't much time or need for foreplay. You led Yuri to your bed, where you lied down and had her lie on top of you. Now you're enjoying yourself, tasting her delicious pussy, while you feel her soft lips glide up and down on your shaft. The position enables you to freely do with her lower half what you want to. You knead her full cheeks and pull them apart occasionally, while you let your tongue glide along her labia, before sucking on her clit. Yuri's moans are almost silenced by your dick in her mouth, which sends shivers up your spine. You feel her hands on your thighs and as she picks up the pace, it almost seems like she is fucking her face onto your cock. Just the thought of that makes you put in even more effort.

Soon, they both of you have made a mess of each other. You can't help but groan into her pussy, whenever Yuri takes you as deep as she can. And Yuri moans and sometimes let's her fingernails glide over your thighs, whenever you let your tongue flick against her clit.

When you both feel the increasing need to finally be as intimate as possible, Yuri momentarily gets off you, before turning around. Her face gets closer to yours once more as she sinks herself down on you. Her soft mounds press against your chest, you feel her nipples rub against your skin. But that's not the best part. The best part is the way Yuri's tight snatch slowly takes you inside. It leaves you breathing a little faster, her wet lips wrapping themselves around your shaft as tight as possible. A satisfied smile lingers on Yuri's lips as she leans down to kiss yours. She is now lying flat on top of you. Her hands are playing with your hair, while yours rest on her lower back, occasionally darting out to give one of her cheeks a playful squeeze.

The two of you take it slow, enjoying each other's warmth and closeness. You were afraid you wouldn't last long at first, but the slow love making enables you to go longer than you expected. Yuri barely moves on top of you, slightly circling her hips, making your cock move inside of her. The two of you share one kiss after another. Her fingers comb through your hair. And she gives it a slight tug, whenever you hit the right spot inside of her. Yuri's breasts are pressed against your chest, her nipples rubbing against your skin.

Having your hands on her cheeks, you carefully start to move her back and forth. It brings more motion into the two of you. Yuri's lips find yours once more, while she lets out a moan, feeling her pussy glide along your cock. The more you make her move, the better it feels for the both of you. Your fingers begin to dig into her flesh and Yuri leaves a bite on your skin here and there. Looking up at her, you see her eyes are only half open, her eyelids heavy with pleasure.

"Oh my god."

Yuri lets out a loud sigh into your neck. It's the first time she spoke, since she took you inside. You feel her moving on her own now, so you let your hands travel along her back. Her hair is covering the both of you right now, serving as a makeshift curtain as it blocks out the sunlight.

Closing your eyes, you just enjoy the moment. How Yuri moves herself along your body on top of you. How her pussy glides along your shaft, her wet walls squeezing every inch. How her nipples move over your skin. How her moans reach your ear, whenever she doesn't lock her lips with yours.

"Yuri..."

You took too long. Focusing on the moment, feeling this gorgeous woman on top of you. You realize there is no turning back, the moment you open your eyes. Yuri bites her lower lip, looking down on you. She nods, giving you permission to finish what the two of you started.

You quickly reach down her back, your arms wrapping around her lower back, right above her ass. Instinctively, you let your legs slip out from underneath her and raise them, burying your heels into the mattress.

"Oh wow."

Yuri lets out a gasp. To her it feels like you just gained another inch. You start to fuck her now. A little faster than she moved before. Her arms now lying next to your shoulders, supporting her weight as she pushes her upper body higher. You can't stop yourself. Taking in the sight of her beautiful tits right in front of you, you fuck Yuri harder. She can't help but smile down on you, flattered by the way you seem to love every single part of her body.

"Yuri..."

You sigh her name once more. Yuri let's out a moan herself a moment later. She feels your cock twitching inside of her. You raise your hips a little higher, which makes you lift hers too. More and more of your cum invades Yuri's tight cavern, making her head sink onto yours once more.

The two of you stay in place, even after both of you have calmed down. Yuri is still lying on top of you. She has moved a little further down though to be able to comfortably place her head on your chest. Her toned midriff is pressed against your cock. You feel her fingers trace over your tattoo once more.

"You know...."

Yuri starts to talk after a while.

"My room is two floors higher. 5003. Just in case you..."

You crack a smile, your hand slowly stroking her hair.

"I will keep that in mind."

"Are you telling me that everyone is coming?"

You sigh, already knowing that this night will not end well. You expected the three guys to throw you a low profile party at a bar. Just the four of you.

"Yes, everyone. Plus, everyone else who is at the barracks and gets to go out tonight."

"Oh that's just great. How many men is that?"

Miller shrugs his shoulders.

"Fifty?"

You give him a disapproving glare. Now you wish you'd have stayed longer in bed with Yuri.

"Oh come on. They all love you. You know you have a reputation, right? No failed mission? Highest success rate?"

"So?"

Miller leads you down a long street which is taking you further to the beach.

"That doesn't mean I have to like that you invited fifty people."

"Relax, skipper."

He gives you a pat on the shoulder as you two reach the bar the three of them found earlier today. Looking to your right, you see the sunset. The sea is coloured in a beautiful orange. You'd have loved to take a moment and take in the view. You haven't seen a sunset in over a month. But Miller destroys your plan by opening the door. Music and shouts invade your ears. You walk inside, followed by Jackson, Miller and Kang. Most of the tables, around 10, are filled by men in uniforms, while two are occupied by other guests. One group looks like tourists, while the other makes you look at four gorgeous faces. Even after you were able to have sex with Yuri, you can't help but glance at the four girls a second longer. They all look significantly younger than you, with the girl on the far right looking like she just got fresh out of high school.

"Captain!"

One of the men spotted you and is now standing up. The laughter and chatter dies down. The other soldiers follow his example. You wait until everyone is standing. You hear Miller's voice behind you.

"Told you. Reputation."

You sigh as you look around. It seems like some of the men already had a couple of drinks.

"At ease."

As everyone sits back down, you notice how the group of tourists and the four girls all look very surprised by what's going on.

Suddenly, you hear Jackson groan in annoyance and you quickly realize why. There aren't any empty seats. Or rather, the only empty seats left are the ones at the table of the four girls. You see Miller stepping towards the nearest table, probably to get you a place to sit, but you grab his shoulder.

"It's fine. I was hoping for a relaxed night anyway."

The four of you walk through the bar and past some of the tables. Some of the men greet you individually, raising their glasses, or congratulating you.

"Hi. Are these empty, or are you waiting for someone?"

"No, they're empty. Please."

One of the girls spoke and is now gesturing towards the empty seats. You walk around the table and sit against the wall, next to the girl who looks the youngest. Jackson joins you on the bench, while the other two sit opposite from you.

You take one more look around the table. You can tell the girls are a little shy to restart their conversation now. The girl next to the youngest tugs her short black hair behind her ear, before taking a sip of her drink.

The girl across from her is the one who invited the four of you to sit down. You can't help but stare at her lips for a moment as she finally says something to the girl next to her. You can't understand it, but it sounds like Korean.

The girl she is speaking to is sitting next to Miller. She looks cute. Not as cute as the girl next you, but still kinda adorable. She seems to answer the other girl, before she takes out her phone.

When the waitress reaches your table, the four of you order. The girls seem to have picked up their conversation. At one point it looks like the girl next to you asked a question. A question none of them seems to have the answer too. You're surprised when Kang suddenly says something in Korean. You've noticed that he has been unusually quiet this entire time. You can't blame him. The four girls are stunning. But somehow it seems like something else has held him back so far.

The girls are surprised by Kangs answer. They probably didn't expect him to understand them.

Haneul's cheeks burn red with embarrassment. Why is he only saying now that he knows Korean? Her worried face glances at the man next to her. The man who seems to be in charge. She didn't expect anyone to understand her, apart from her members, when she admitted she found him hot, barely four minutes ago.

She was already afraid that he had caught her glancing at him from time to time. But now, she has to worry that his friend will tell him what she said. Haneul bows her head and thanks the man who spoke Korean, hoping he won't say anything. The other girls already teased her enough about her confession.

When the waitress comes back and placed the drinks in front of the soldiers, Haneul can feel how the man next to her relaxes further. He spreads his legs wider to get more comfortable. Now hers touch his. She can't help but bit her lip at the seemingly innocent connection. She isn't as bold as Julie or Natty, who would've placed their hands on his thigh and flirted with him. She hates herself for that. Haneul knows she needs to at least practice. Talking to her fans is easy. So why can't she do that with strangers as well?

"I'm surprised you know Korean."

Haneul looks up at Julie's words, which were directed at the man who answered her question.

"My parents are Korean. It's like my first language."

"Ah, that's cool."

"I have to admit, I'm a fan of you, girls. I'm going to the concert tomorrow."

"Oh, that's amazing."

Natty seems genuinely happy. While the three girls deepen the conversation with their fan, Haneul glances at the man next to her once more.

"Oh, fuck!"

Her inner self screams when he suddenly locks eyes with her. Haneul doesn't know if she should look away or not. But he smiles at her. And turns a little towards her.

"What's your name?"

"I'm Haneul."

Haneul gives you one of the cutest smiles you've ever seen. And the words slip out of your mouth, before you can think about them.

"You have a beautiful smile."

As the night deepens, you step outside, feeling the cold night air on your face. Haneul is walking out behind you. After her come Jackson, Miller and Kang and the other girls. It was one of them, Julie if you remember correctly, who suggested all of you should go for a walk on the beach.

You got to know all four girls quite well, who seem to be in a kpop group called kiss of life. They are all charming and beautiful, but it seems like you and Haneul have hit it off very well.

The two of you continue to talk as you walk past the palm trees and finally reach the sand.

"This is so beautiful."

Haneul can't fight the urge to take a couple of pictures of the star glazed night sky.

"It is."

You look at her and Haneul seems to catch on as she lowers her phone and turns to you. Her shy smile makes you chuckle, before you focus back on the stars.

"Haneul... Your name means sky, right?"

She looks at you in surprise.

"You speak Korean?"

"A little."

"Oh, you should've told me earlier."

You see her biting her lip and her cheeks slightly becoming darker. Is she embarrassed about something?

You hear laughter behind you. The two of you turn around. You roll your eyes as you watch Miller kissing one of the girls.

Haneul lets out a gasp as she sees Julie and one of the soldiers exchange a kiss. His hands are on her waist and Julie's are on his shoulders. Haneul is embarrassed, but at the same time, she is glancing at you, wondering how it would feel like to kiss you. Then she sees Natty and your other friend laugh together, arms locked. She watches how he slowly leans down, capturing the Thai girl's lips with his own.

You can tell Haneul has gotten more nervous over the last ten seconds.

"We don't need to do what they're doing, if it makes you uncomfortable."

"Huh?"

Haneul turns to you, her eyes wide open. You hesitate, but it seems like she does want you to kiss her. You place a hand on her shoulder and eventually lower it a little. Further and further, until you reach her small waist. Haneul's eyes are glued to yours the whole time. But you catch them darting down to your lips from time to time.

Once your hand is on her waist, you pull her closer. You press her body against your own and you can feel her perky tits rub against your body, right underneath your chest. Leaning down, you see Haneul closing her eyes.

She seems so different from Yuri. Maybe it's her age or inexperience. But it doesn't make her any less attractive.

Your lips meet and you have to admit that Haneul's lips feel softer than you thought they would. You let your hand slowly wander over her back as you deepen the kiss. Haneul melts into you, her own hands pulling slightly at your shirt.

"Look at those two lovebirds."

Your kiss is interrupted by Julie's cheeky remark. You realize that you and Haneul have been standing like this more than a couple of seconds. For you, it felt like a short moment. But the other six are all looking at you.

"We are waiting for your answer, skipper."

"For what?"

You seem to have missed the question. A proud but shy smile appears on Haneul's face.

"Are you okay with all of us heading to the nearest hotel?"

You wonder why they're asking. They could just take off. It's not like they're on duty or something. But then you catch how Natty is casually leaning against Jackson, while her hand seems to be placed on Miller's back. While Kang, despite having his hands on Belle's waist, seems to exchange a knowing smile with Julie.

Their plan quickly dawns on you and you look down at Haneul. By now, you're pretty sure that Haneul wouldn't oppose to a night together. But, even if you have to share, the idea of being able to be with all four of them almost makes your head spin.

"What do you say?"

Despite the darkness, Haneul's cheek are laced with a darker red than ever before.

"I-I wouldn't mind."

The way to the hotel room was uneventful. You could tell Haneul was still nervous, but you managed to calm her down by taking her hand in yours while you walked. The receptionist raised an eyebrow when you told her all eight of you would share a room for the night. But she didn't say anything and just gave you the key card to a slightly bigger room.

Now you sit on the edge of the bed, looking down on Haneul. She is fumbling around with your belt. Miller is sitting on your left with Julie kneeling in front of him. The other four are on the other side of the bed behind you.

You can't help but watch as Julie opens her mouth and takes Miller's cock into her mouth. She is definitely more experienced than Haneul, who only got your pants off now. You catch her hesitating, but a moment later, she pulls your boxers down as well. Her wide open eyes are focused on your cock. She slowly opens her mouth as well. Reaching out, you take her cheek in your hand, encouraging her. Haneul's eyes smile up at you as her pretty lips close around your tip.

Your head rolls back as you feel her tongue moving around. You're so glad you and Yuri had fun earlier today. Otherwise, Haneul's cute face would've made you cum right there.

She lets her tongue dance around for a moment, before pressing it underneath your cock. You feel her taking more of you inside her mouth. On instinct, your hand moves up to the top of her head. You can't help but stroke her hair as Haneul does her best to pleasure you.

"Good girl."

You groan, when you feel her sucking on your cock properly. You expected her to have no experience at all. But it seems like Haneul does know just enough.

You glance to your left once more as you hear someone choking. Julie has placed her hands flat on Miller's thighs and is almost face fucking herself onto his cock.

Haneul can feel that you got harder by looking at those two. She takes a deep breath and then lets her lips glide further down your shaft. The younger girl can't compete with Julie, but you're more than happy with what she is doing. You reach behind her to hold her hair back, focusing only on Haneul.

"You're doing great."

You can't help but praise her. She looks so cute, while she sucks you off.

Haneul places her hands on your thighs as well and looks up at you. Almost as if she's asking for permission. You nod, curious to see what she's going to do.

"Damn."

You groan when you feel her throat tighten around you as she pushes her head down further. She quickly begins to cough and choke. Haneul's spit starts to leave her mouth. It gets all over your cock, your lap, her shirt and her thighs. But she tries to keep going, bobbing her head up and down.

"Don't close your mouth, open it wide."

You almost jump when you hear Julie's voice right next to you. She is kneeling next to Haneul, her arm stretched out as she keeps jerking off Miller's wet cock.

Haneul retreats, letting your own cock fall out of her mouth.

"Relax your throat when you first take all of it. It makes it easier."

Haneul listens closely to Julie's words.

"Like this."

Your hands dig into the sheets as Julie suddenly decides to deepthroat you. You can feel how she is forcing her jaw open wide enough to take all of you inside. Haneul watches in awe as the other girl bobs her head up and down. Julie doesn't even choke this time, her throat relaxed enough to take it all.

You notice how she still doesn't stop stroking Miller's cock. From behind you, you hear Jackson groan something.

You have to distract yourself like this, not wanting to cum early. Julie is doing an amazing job and now backs away to give Haneul another chance.

The younger girl tries to imitate Julie and takes most of your cock inside her mouth at once. You feel how she is able to take more now, her throat almost greedily sucking on your cock.

"That's it."

Julie smiles at her, before letting go of Miller's cock. She spits into her hand and wraps it around his length once more, making sure her saliva is all over shaft.

Haneul has now lifted her once more, letting her lips glide along your length.

"You're doing great."

Julie pats the back of Haneul's head. When she looks up at you, the older girl gives you a seductive wink. Before you can react, Julie pushes Haneul's head down, deep into your lap.

"Take it all, baby."

Her voice is still sweet and carrying, but her hand on Haneul's back makes the younger girl choke and gag.

And then, Julie uses Haneul's mouth to jerk you off. She lifts her head up and down, making her lips glide along your cock.

You barely notice that Miller is now standing next to Julie. She's sucking him off once more, but making sure she is fucking Haneul's face onto your cock at a steady pace.

You feel bad for Haneul. But at the same time, you can barely hold it together. Her tight throat just feels so damn amazing. The way her whole mouth almost takes in all your cock. The way her saliva gets everywhere. The way she gags whenever your tip hits the back of her throat.

You sigh in relief when Julie lets go off Haneul's head and focuses back on Miller. Haneul takes you in deep a couple of times more, before she finally backs away. Her big eyes and the strings of her saliva connecting her lips with your cock make her look so cute but sexy at the same time.

You reach out and wipe the spit off her lips. To your surprise, Haneul sucks on your thumb in return.

"Get on the bed."

You guide her to her feet and make her lie on her back. She watches you as you now undo her shorts. Glancing behind her, you can see how Natty is giving Jackson a titjob, while Belle is giving Kang head too.

But you focus back on Haneul as you pull her pants off of her.

You push the small piece of fabric that is covering her pussy to the side, exposing her snatch.

Haneul gasps when she feels your lips touch her thighs. She expected you to head straight for her core, but you tease first. It only takes you a couple of kisses, before her eyes silently beg for you to pay attention to her pussy.

You take both her thighs in your hands, spreading them apart so you have enough room. You kiss her right next to her lower lips, making her sigh in frustration. When you finally do let your tongue glide along her lips, Haneul's head rolls back. Her eyes close and her hands grab the sheets as you begin to eat her out.

The young girl's moans echo through the room. She occasionally lets out a small squeal or sigh whenever you suck on her clit. By now, one hand has moved to your head as she is slightly pulling at your hair, trying to get your tongue deeper inside of her. The other covers her mouth as Haneul tries to reduce the volume of her moans. She doesn't want to be the loudest in the room. Embarrassment is still colouring her cheeks.

But she doesn't have to worry much, when she hears Julie moaning shamelessly next to her. Miller is lying next to Haneul on his back, while Julie is riding his face. The older girl throws her head back and grinds against him, while his hands hold her waist.

Haneul almost jumps when Natty's face suddenly appears above her head. Jackson made her get on all fours on the bed and is now eating her out from behind. Natty basically moans into Haneul's face. The younger girl can't help herself. The Thai girl just looks so amazingly hot like that. She reaches upward with her free hand. Natty gladly follows Haneul's guidance and lowers her head. The two girls share one deep kiss after another.

As they both loose themselves in the sea of pleasure, Natty's limps grow weak. She gets lower and lower as they break their kiss. Finally, Natty is almost lying on top of Haneul. The younger girl's face meets Jackson's. She hesitates, but eventually she captures his lips with her own. She can taste Natty's juices.

You do the same with the Thai girl. You share a deep kiss with her, while she slowly inserts a finger into Haneul's pussy. The younger girl moans louder now, but you pull away and stand up. Natty follows your movements and invitingly opens her mouth. You push your cock past her lips.

Looking past her, you see that Jackson is doing the same with Haneul. While the two girls lie on top of each other, they give the two of you head.

"Damn."

You groan, acknowledging how skilled Natty is. She definitely did this more often than Haneul. You feel her tongue doing all kinds of tricks as she keeps her lips sealed around your length. You place a hand on top of her head and give her mouth shallow thrusts.

As you use Natty's mouth, you watch Julie, who keeps riding Miller's face. Seems like she got a hold of the lieutenant as well. Kang is standing on the bed, right in front of her. One of Julie's hands is wrapped around his length, while her lips are sealed around his shaft as well. Her other hand is entangled in Miller's hair.

Wait, where is Belle?

She catches your eye as she slowly crawls over the bed towards you. Just when she's about to reach you, you reach for her face, pulling her up by her chin. Belle smiles at you, before the two of you share a kiss. It doesn't last long, because Belle now reaches down to have a taste of your cock as well.

Natty starts to moan all over your cock when Jackson slowly pushes his cock inside of her. You watch her eyes roll as she suddenly finds herself trapped between the two of you. When Jackson pushes forward, he basically makes her take you down her throat. Belle makes sure that even your base is cared for, while Natty becomes helpless.

Belle suddenly gasps in surprise when Miller reaches around her waist and pulls her body towards him. Julie is already an all fours while Kang fucks her from behind. The older man now puts Belle into the same position. But instead of fucking her, you catch how he starts to eat her ass. The younger girl quickly turns into a moaning mess. Her and Julie both exchange one kiss after another.

Looking down on yourself again, you notice how Natty is starting to drool all over Haneul's beautiful pussy. It now looks so wet and so good, you can't help yourself. You almost have to push Natty's head off your cock for her to leave you alone. Now her moans are louder. You reach down and place two fingers on Haneul's clit. You feel her jump at the sudden touch, but when you start playing with her, you hear her moan as well.

"Damn, Natty. Haneul is such a tight girl."

"Yeah, she is. Such a tight cunt."

You make Natty watch as you slowly penetrate Haneul's glistening folds. The older girl keeps drooling all over the younger girl's pussy, coating your cock in her saliva as well.

"Does she feel good for you? Is she being a-"

A particularly hard thrust leaves Natty speechless for a moment.

"Is-Is she being a good little girl for you?"

"Yes, she is."

You take a hold of Natty's chin and make her look up at you.

"You like it when your friend is a slut?"

She eagerly nods, another moan leaving her mouth.

"Do you want to see how I use her tight pussy like a fleshlight?"

You talk a little louder, making sure Haneul can mentally prepare herself.

"Yes, yes, yes. Fuck her like the slut she is."

As Natty talks, you feel Haneul's legs close around you in conformation. It seems like the younger girl has lost all of her shyness by now.

You properly take a hold of her thighs and start to fuck Haneul's pussy. A moment later, you hear a string of moans and whines leave her lips. You watch how Jackson momentarily pulls out of Natty and thrusts down into Haneul's wide open mouth. You doubt the young girl has ever had two cocks inside of her at once. The two of you alternate between both of their mouths and pussies, turning the two of them into begging messes.

"Are you really going to-Oh god!"

You glance to your right as you hear a loud yelp. Belle is now on top of Miller, who is sitting on the bed. Her feet are planted on his thighs, her hands are holding onto his wrists. His own hands are on her waist.

"You're so big, oh god!"

He makes Belle take his cock into her ass. Slowly at first, before he starts to pick up the pace a little. You can't help but notice how good her pussy looks as well. Not as good as Haneul's to be honest though.

You don't really remember how you ended up in this position. After Haneul, you do remember being inside of Julie and the Belle. Now, you're lying on the bed and Haneul is on top of you. She's facing you, her hands on your chest, supporting her weight. To your left, the other three couples have gotten into the same position. The three guys and you are all lying down, while the four girls are each riding someone. At some point, the four of them all got into the same rhythm. They all lift themselves upwards and then impale themselves on their partner below at the same time.

"I-I think I'm gonna...."

Haneul's voice gets cut off when your cock is finally too much for her. You could tell she's kept it in for a while now, just to be on the same level as the other three. But now she finally becomes undone, shaking on top of you. Her snug pussy twitching around your cock. You hold onto her waist, making sure she doesn't fall down.

The next one to go is Belle. She is riding Jackson, who's lying next to you. With a loud gasp, she joins Haneul in her orgasmic state. When Haneul finally calms down, she looks at you.

"I-I need a break."

You nod, noticing that she really is out of breath. You help her with climbing off of you. As Haneul lies down, you get up. The fact that she just came on top of you has you longing for more. And the way Belle has started to pick up her pace once more, indicates she can take more as well.

Now kneeling behind her, you reach around her body and cup her breasts. Her bounces slow down and you move a little closer. Jackson reaches behind her and pulls Belle's cheeks apart.

"Why are you-"

She gets the answer a second later as she feels your tip push pass the tight ring of her ass.

"Oh! Oh, god! I've never taken this much before!"

You thrust inside of her, making Belle almost fall forward.

Jackson and you start to work together. Whenever you push inside Belle, his hands on her ass push her upwards as well. It makes her take even more of you, while her pussy glides along his shaft. And then you almost pull out of her as you pull her down with you, impaling her on his cock.

"Oh, yes! Ruin me!"

Belle quickly gets into it, the feeling of having two holes filled overwhelming her.

"Fuck, that's so hot."

Julie sighs on your right, who is riding Kang's cock. Next to her is Natty doing the same with Miller. The two guys exchange a look.

"Hey, wait!"

Natty complains, but Miller ignores her. He pushes her off of him and kneels behind Julie. The oldest has a mischievous grin on her face.

"Oh, yes. Give it to me, boys."

She moans loudly when the two of them start to fuck her ass and pussy as well. She doesn't seem to care at all that Natty just lost her own opportunity to feel good.

You motion her to come closer and Natty quickly crawls towards you. After she lies on her back, you hold Belle with only one hand and insert two fingers of your other one into Natty's wet pussy.

All three girls are now moaning together again, while Haneul is still lying on the side. Still recovering.

"Fuck."

You groan into Belle's ear, desperately trying to fight the urge to bite into her naked shoulder. Her ass is just so tight. It feels so good. That tight ring of her muscles keeps squeezing the life out of you, while you feel can feel Jackson's cock inside of her as well.

"Oh my god."

Belle sighs and moans. By now, she has become dead weight. It's up to you and Jackson to move her up and down, while you use her holes. Eventually, her strength leaves Belle's whole body. She collapses on top of Jackson. He's still inside her pussy and now you start to fuck Belle's ass a little faster. You make her body rock back and forth on top of him.

Natty seizes that opportunity and quickly climbs on top of Belle. You hear Jackson groan, you can't tell if it's their combined bodies on top of him, or just Belle's snatch. Either way, you're now able to switch between the two girls.

You pull out of Belle's snug ass and push inside Natty's pussy.

"Oh, yes. Fuck me hard."

The older girl sighs, backing her ass up a little bit more.

"Oh, that's it. You're gonna give us your cum?"

Julie's words push you towards the edge as you feel her hand quickly stroking your cock. The four girls are all kneeling on the floor in a circle, their backs up against each other. The four of you each stand in front of one of them.

Kang is the first to finish. With a loud groan, he cums all over Natty. Her face and her tits are painted waited after only a couple of seconds. Belle is the second one to get hit. Miller unloads all over her face as well, some of his cum hits her hair and Haneul as well.

Julie puts your cock into her mouth as well, urging you on to not leave her hanging. At the same time, Jackson orgasms too, painting Haneul's face. The youngest gasps at the rather unfamiliar feeling. But before she can say anything, Belle already captures her lips with her own. The two girls engage in a messy, cum filled make out session.

You suddenly feel a second pair of lips on your cock. Natty's painted face greats you as she eagerly lets her lips wander along your length.

"Fuck."

You groan, the two girls quickly getting you to the point of no return.

When they realize you're about to cum, they both lean back. They use their hands to push their tits together. Mouths wide open and tongues out. Natty closes her eyes, while Julie looks straight up at you.

You finally finish, painting both of their faces and tits. The sight in front of you almost makes you hard again already as you see the two girls sharing your cum.

You thought your birthday would've already been the highlight of your shore leave. But you're proven wrong, when you wake up the next day to a snap from your new friend.

#ask #anon #kpop #kpop smut #kpop girls #kpop gg #male reader #snsd yuri #snsd smut #snsd #kwon yuri #yuri smut #julie kiss of life #haneul kiss of life #natty kiss of life #belle kiss of life #kiss of life smut #kiss of life

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geeeemmmmmmm · 3 months ago

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"Cant take my eyes off you"

A/N:Ignore how the title of my post wouldn't work lol. Bro I cannot get the gif working but thank you to the person that showed me the gif<3. Just finished rewatching TFATWS and that last scene with Bucky on the boat with the kids playing on his vibrianium arm as he talks is just "chefs kiss" As always sorry for any mistakes and enjoy:)

Summary:You and Bucky go see Sam and his family on their boat on a nice warm summer evening.

Warnings:Mentions of beer, fluff

WC:956

"C'mon already Y/N" Bucky called in that fake irritated way he loved to tease you as he waited at the front door of your house. "Yea yea, here I am" you said while you walked out looking breathtaking in your creamy white sundress that flattered your body in every way possible and quite frankly you knew it as you did a fake model strut, swishing your silky smooth hair in the air as you made your way down the hall to see Bucky's jaw practically sitting on the floor. He always did this when you came down the hall from your guy's shared bedroom, even if you were in the mundane outfit he was always in awe of how he managed to get a girl like you in his life. "Not so bad yourself" You smirked taking in how handsome your boyfriend looked even if he was only wearing his dark red short sleeve that really made his arms just look unreal with a pair of his usual black denim jeans but the thing that sealed the deal was his beautiful ocean blue eyes just gazing at you with all the love in the world. "C'mon already Buck" you teased him as you made your way out the door as he completely forgot about the outside world as he admired you, you laughed as he stumbled back into reality while locking the door and running up to you hastily putting his flesh arm around you as you just sighed in bliss as you started the about 15 minute ish walk. Bucky has always preferred walking to places, no reason at all but as long as it gave him more of an excuse to wrap his arm around you and press kisses to your soft hair.

The sounds of distant chatter and laughter became louder as you two approached the Wilson's boat as you were greeted by Sam's nephews charging at you two, they had been anticipating you and Bucky's arrival for ages just wanting to be near you guys. Kids have always been drawn to Bucky, he may not be the keenest of kids but he always stays a gentleman even to them but it was your calm and kind personality that always drew them to you. "Guys, guys we'll come see you all soon" Bucky tried to direct them away in a fake serious voice as he pulled you off to come see Sam with him as the kids just looked disappointed while a collective sigh came from all of them.

"Feels like I haven't seen y'all forever" Sam gushed as he got two beers for the pair of you "We saw you recently when you revealed the fixed boat to everyone" you giggled to Sam as he just swatted his hand in reply. Before Bucky could speak, someone dinged their glass to begin a toast "To Captain America and the greatness he has already achieved and for all the pride of the country to come with him!" Sarah cheered glowing with pride for her brother. Bucky and you clinked bottles with Sam "To Cap!" you and Bucky celebrated while Sam pulled you both in a big hug.

As the sun began to set you both made your way to sit down making small talk with friends and family of Sam. "1...2...3!!" hushed whispers were heard right as the nephews tried to begin a playfight with Bucky but he just smirked and held his metal arm up while they tried and tried to bring him down, not knowing the true strength Bucky held. The whole table laughed seeing Bucky unphased and still talking while the kids used all their might to just move his arm "Give them a chance" you whispered in his ear as you patted his chest watching him look down in defeat as he dropped him arm for the kids to again try pull him down while you saw the sparkle in his eyes as he glanced at the boys seeming to be having the time of their lives as his eyes made their way back to yours as he pressed a small kiss to your lips.

Just as the clock hit 9PM Sarah grabbed the two young boys with an actual serious tone "Bed. Now" as they reluctantly let Bucky's arm go moping as they walked "I'll rematch you next time" he whispered to the boys in a mischievous tone as their faces lit up and suddenly they ran to their room already making "battle" plans. "I want front row tickets to that" you breathed out in a sleepy tone as you fell more into Bucky's side "I'll need you ringside Doll but for now let's get you home" He whispered back as he began getting up and reaching his hand out to help you up. You took his hand gracefully and smiled at him as you two embarked home, but of course you two did your rounds hugging and saying goodbye to everyone as Sam and Sarah only let you go if you two come back soon. Bucky smiled faintly and waved at them while you waved quickly after him trying to look a little more awake.

The walk home was peaceful, while you were sleepy you took your time admiring how the street lights lit up Bucky's face perfectly and how you could really see his eyes gleaming their beautiful ocean blue colour. "You've been staring at me all night" he declared before he cupped your face in his metal arm, noticing how you shut your eyes and leaned into his hand "Can't take my eyes off you" you mumbled sleepily with a cheeky smirk on your face as you reached your front door with relief you could cuddle up in bed with Bucky

A/N:This was so fun to write, I hope you all enjoyed!!

#x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #sam wilson #tfatws #geeeemmmmmmm

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sincerelyneo · 13 hours ago

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death by a thousand cuts | l.hc

“but if the story’s over, why am i still writing pages?”

💿now playing: death by a thousand cuts by taylor swift

❯ summary: If you get more than one love in a lifetime, why does your heart still beat for the boy who wrecked you completely?

❯ pairings: haechan x fem!reader

❯ genre: angst, second chance, cheating trope, smut.

❯ words: 9.6k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, smut, cheating (booo), exes, toxic relationship, a therapy joke, lots of angst, swearing, heartbreak, a whole lotta hurt, drinking, insecurities, jealousy, arguing, heavy petting, protected sex, nipple play, oral sex (fem receiving), i can’t lie this is just 9k words of heartache and sex lol.

an: this fic will not be for everyone!! i do not condone cheating in any way, you’re a loser if you cheat. i just felt like writing something heart achey, and this is my favourite taylor swift song that inspires cheating fics whenever i listen to it.

“Give me that!”

Yeji snatches the phone out of your hand with the kind of urgency only a best friend possesses—the kind forged after too many years of watching you do the stupidest things when it comes to boys. Her eyes flare the moment she spots the familiar username.

@ haechanahceah

“Oh my god. You’re kidding.” Her thumb hovers accusingly over the screen. “Y/N, it’s been a year. A whole year. Why haven’t you blocked Hyuck yet?”

You don’t answer immediately. Just tilt your head back with an exhausted exhale, reaching for the phone. Not because you want it back, but because it feels incriminating in her hands. Like a wound she’s now inspecting. And you don’t need her inspecting it.

“Because we’re okay,” you say, not entirely convincingly. “Mostly.”

It was just a like. On an Instagram post. Of him—with his friends.

(Some of them girls. Most of them girls. All of them tagged. And you definitely weren’t planning on clicking through their profiles in the middle of your best friend coffee date with your screen brightness criminally low. Definitely not.)

“And because we’re friends,” you add breezily. Then you pluck the phone from her hand and tap back into the app, your thumb moving faster than your brain, already leaving a comment beneath his photo.

Something flippant. Something funny. Something that screams: See? I’m a functioning, emotionally stable adult who can totally be friends with the boy who annihilated my heart while he gallivants around Europe on a boat with girls.

Except probably subtler.

Yeji stares at you like she’s witnessing a slow-motion car crash. “Oh, absolutely. And when that guy drove me home from the bar last weekend and told me I had pretty eyes, we were just friends too.”

You roll your eyes, swatting the air with your hand. “That’s different. Hyuck’s my childhood best friend. I can’t just cut him off now that we’re not…” you pause, the words catching in your throat like they always do, “you know?”

“No. I don’t know,” she says, arms crossed and chin lifted in that annoyingly perceptive way of hers. “Because you two are in a loop. An exhausting, toxic, ‘I-don’t-know-where-we-stand-with-each-other’ loop. And staying in touch with him is why you can’t move on.”

“We are not toxic.”

You are.

But you’d already said it out loud like a reflex, before you even had time to make it sound believable. So, you try to fix it.

“We’re just…”

You trail off, blinking hard like the answer might fall from the ceiling.

“Co-dependent?” Lia offers helpfully.

You sigh. “Yes. That. Thank you, Lia.”

“It’s weird, is what it is,” Yeji says.

You lean back in your chair, arms folded across your chest like armour. “Ugh. You wouldn’t get it.”

And they wouldn’t. They never have.

Because nobody gets you and Hyuck. Not Yeji, not Lia, not even the therapists you’ve paid a concerning amount of money to explain it all to you. No amount of therapy or psychoanalysis can remove the him-shaped hole inside of you. The way he exists like a second heartbeat.

How many times does a person truly get to fall in love? Not the practical kind. But the kind that rewires you completely. That makes you wonder how you ever existed before this person, and fear who you might become after.

If love were fair—the answer would be simple. Once. Only ever once.

Because to love someone—truly love someone—is not just to hand over your heart. It’s to fold it delicately, wrap it in every part of your soul, and place it willingly in that person’s pocket. Trusting that they won’t ever give it back frayed or barely beating.

And if they do (and he definitely did) well, what remains might resemble a heart, but it never beats the same again. You don’t think it ever will.

So yes. One love. One person. One boy—him.

Yeji calls it nostalgia. Says that since he was your first everything, it feels bigger than it was, and that’s why he’s taking up too much space inside your chest. She says you're scared of forgetting. But that’s not it.

You’d give anything to forget. It’s better than remembering everything. Of living in a world where he’s everywhere and nowhere all at once. Where songs feel like him. Where movies feel like him. Where your own body sometimes feels like him because he’s marked it so damn much.

But if you did move on, if you could—you’d still have to ask yourself: where does all that breathless, foolish, all-consuming love go?

The common consensus is that love turns to hate when it stays too long without being fed. But you can’t imagine a universe cruel enough to make you hate the very boy who made you believe in soulmates.

So you don’t hate him. Even though you should.

“Fine,” Yeji slumps back in her chair, arms crossed, eyes sharp with that familiar fury she reserves exclusively for you—when you’re being like this. “You’re right. I don’t get it. I don’t get why you’re still in cahoots with the same boy who cheated on you and left you a complete mess.”

Lia gasps. “Yeji!”

But the thing is—Yeji has a point. And you know that. But knowing something and truly understanding it is two different things.

You don’t understand how he put his hands on someone else. How his mouth touched a body that wasn’t yours. How he delivered that line—“I didn’t mean for it to happen”—with the kind of ease that made you wonder just how many times he’d practised it in the mirror before he had the balls to actually tell you.

You didn’t understand, yet you knew all the same.

You were wearing his shirt when he told you. Still in his house. Still in the space you thought was yours too. And all you could think was: how many nights did he lie next to you like nothing was wrong? How many times did he touch you with hands that had already betrayed you?

He never told you when, or who. Just a sorry. A soft one. A useless one. And a vague promise that he’d do anything to fix it.

But there are some things sorry can’t fix.

You clear your throat, suddenly too aware of how loud your heartbeat feels in a room full of people who love you enough to hate him.

“Because we’re not in cahoots,” you correct. “We’re friends, Yej. Him and I have always been friends.”

It’s not a lie. Not exactly.

You have been friends with Hyuck ever since he moved in next door to your family when you were six. And even then—when you climbed trees and shared crayons—you think your heart was already beating for him. So much you don’t know what life is without that pulse anymore. Without a hint of him running beneath your skin.

It’s why you plaster on a smile and say, “In fact, I even invited him to my birthday party next week.”

They look at you, eyes full of pity and sympathy. And that hurts way more than him breaking you ever did. Because now your friends are staring at you like you’re some sad, shattered, pathetic thing he left behind.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Lia asks weakly.

“You’re seriously a lunatic,” Yeji cuts in before you can respond. “You’re just dragging this out for yourself. Death by a thousand cuts and all that.”

“I am not a lunatic,” you say, shrugging her off. “It’s just... he’s still part of my life. It’s not like I’m inviting a stranger.”

“He fucked up your life,” she huffs, the words stinging. “He hurt you.”

“Yes,” you breathe. “But I love him anyway, don’t I?”

And you do. Because some loves don’t end—they just rearrange themselves.

Yeji yanks her chair back so hard the legs screech against the floor.

“He’s gonna hurt you again,” she spits. “How many times are you gonna let him rip you apart before there’s nothing left? Before you’ve sacrificed yourself and everyone else around you and you’ve got nothing left to give?”

You want to say something, but the words get stuck, because she’s right.

Lia reaches out, “Yeji—”

“If he’s there next week, Y/N,” she says, eyes burning over her shoulder looking from you to Lia, “then I won’t be.”

When Hyuck got a DM from the only girl he’s ever loved—two days ago, now—he sobered.

Which, if you asked Mark, was some kind of divine miracle. Because Mark had been watching his best friend drink himself into oblivion for the better part of a year. A slow, intentional kind of fucked up that was clearly a desperate, pathetic attempt to forget you.

But no shot, no spirit, no stranger’s skin pressed to his could ever do the trick. Not really. Because no matter how hard Hyuck tried, the hangover was always the same: he’d wake up, and you still weren’t his girl.

So when he saw your username light up his phone, he paused.

Because the preview didn’t give anything away. It did that annoying thing that said “2 new messages.” No hint. No breadcrumb. Just a loaded gun of a notification staring up at him.

And, of course he clicked it. He had to. You knew he would. You’d sent two back-to-back messages on purpose—he’s certain of it. Because that’s exactly the kind of person you were. Always two steps ahead. Always orchestrating even your vulnerability.

You wanted to see when he’d read it.

And he did.

At 2:36 a.m. Because you’d definitely be asleep by then. And that meant he had enough time to draft the right response—measured, brisk, detached—like the past year hadn’t cracked him open.

He read it in the half-light of Mark’s living room, surrounded by people he didn’t really like and a bottle of something he couldn’t quite remember picking up.

hey. i’m having a thing next friday for my birthday—just a chill party. nothing major.

you can come, if you want.

Hyuck stares at the two messages.

It’s not because of the party. He couldn’t care less about the cake or the candles. That’s not what has his heart in his throat. It’s the fact that—for the first time in a year—you actually reached out. None of that accidentally bumping into each other nonsense you two pull. No one buys that it’s an accident.

At least, it’s not an accident on his behalf.

It’s not an accident when he keeps frequenting the same coffee shop you once claimed made the best lattes in the city—always at the same time. It’s not a coincidence when he drives through your favourite places on rainy days, just in case you need a ride and are too proud to just call him. And it’s definitely not a coincidence that makes him take the long way to your house. He does it deliberately. He selfishly takes more of your time than he deserves.

Because saying goodbye wasn’t an option for him. Not until it had to be. He’d take prolonged suffering. Death by a thousand cuts.

And it’s not his fault. Well. It is. All of the ruin, anyway. But in the twelve months since he blew it all up, you’ve still lingered. You always do. You always will. So he just keeps showing up in your life when he knows you need to move on. Because he doesn’t want you to.

Because everything in his life is still half-yours. And he won’t board up the windows of that love—not even now. Not when some part of you still flickers inside it, and half of his heart is still in your chest.

Hyuck stares at your message again. He types something. Deletes it. Types something else. Deletes that too.

what kind of thing is it?

Too uninterested.

who’s gonna be there?

Too nosy.

sure, if you want me there.

Too honest.

Everything felt like a trap—too much, too little, not enough to win you back, but equally too honest and would remind you of his actions that hurt you.

How was he supposed to respond to the girl who once memorised every mole on his face? Who was the muse of every song he’s written? Who still makes his hands shake on the keyboard? Who he cheated on? Who he destroyed completely?

Eventually he landed on:

might swing by, angel. happy early birthday, btw.

He hit send before he could change his mind.

11:27PM

Thirty-three minutes left of your birthday, but you’re not celebrating.

Instead, you’re sitting on the edge of the kitchen counter with one leg dangling, the other tucked beneath you, whilst your dress wrinkles and bunches around your thighs because you stopped caring how ruined you looked an hour ago.

You don’t care that your lipstick is all but gone or that your mascara is smudged under both eyes. You don’t care because he’s not here.

You were supposed to be smiling by now.

But he didn’t walk in.

He still hasn’t.

And you don’t even know why you’re surprised. He’s not your boyfriend. He’s not your baby. He’s not your Hyuck anymore. He doesn’t owe you a goddamn thing—not a happy birthday, or his time. You gave that privilege up the night you stopped being his. Or maybe the night he stopped being yours. You still haven’t decided which one came first.

Still, you hoped he would come.

It was the only thing keeping you remotely sane—delusional hope that he might still show up. That maybe he’d walk through the door like he hadn’t betrayed you and still want you. You still wanted him.

You hated that he broke you and still got to keep the pieces. Hated that even now, on your birthday, all you could think about was him. Hated that you still wanted his birthdays, his weekends, his forever.

You take another drink. Cheaper vodka this time, and let it burn your throat as it goes down. You want the sting. You deserve the sting. Your eyes drift (again) to the front door.

Still nothing.

“You need to stop doing that,” Lia pads barefoot into the kitchen, coming right behind you to smack both her hands on your shoulders. “Stop watching that door like a hawk. Yeji would kill you if she saw you pining after him on your birthday.”

You press your lips together and glance away like you’ve been caught red-handed. Because, well. You have.

“Yeah, well. Yeji isn’t here,” you mutter, taking another sip—longer this time.

Lia raises an eyebrow. “And why’s that?”

You drain the last of your drink and look her straight in the eye. “Because I invited him.”

Lia looks at you expectantly. You know she hates being caught between you and Yeji, but it’s clear she thinks you were wrong to invite Hyuck tonight, knowing full well how Yeji would react.

And maybe she’s right.

That’s why you sigh.

“Look, he said he might come,” you say finally. “He didn’t promise anything. Yeji was overreacting.”

“He never promises,” Lia says gently. “And yet, you keep prioritising him like he’s still that sweet boy we both used to love, who used to buy your favourite cookies before class, or pick fights with the boys who made fun of you. But he’s not that boy anymore, Y/N. And he’s not yours anymore either.”

You flinch.

She notices. Regrets it. “Sorry.”

You shake your head. “It’s fine.”

But it isn’t, not really. Because this is the first birthday he’s missed since you were kids. Since you were eleven and he showed up with a homemade card.

It’s not fine because his absence would say something that the cheating weirdly never quite did—that he’s not the boy you fell in love with. Maybe he hasn’t been for a long time.

Lia leans against the counter beside you. “It’s allowed, you know? Being hurt.”

“I don’t get to be,” you reply, glancing at her. “He doesn’t owe me anything anymore. I was the one who didn’t want to forgive him that night. I said I was done. I don’t expect him to grovel forever.”

“No,” she agrees. “But you deserved something. More than a half-assed apology at least.”

That lands in your chest harshly. You press your tongue to your cheek, the way you do when you’re trying not to cry. You’re not drunk enough to cry yet. Give it another hour.

“Come on,” Lia sighs and wraps an arm around your shoulders, tugging you into her side, “I’m not letting you stay in here staring at that door and giving him the power to ruin the rest of your birthday.”

But even as she says it, your eyes flicker to that door again—still no him.

Lia doesn’t let go of your hand as she leads you out of the kitchen and into the living room, where people are scattered across the sofas and floors. They all feel like strangers at your own party because you’ve spent the whole night looking for one person who never came.

“Y/N,” Lia says, squeezing your hand, “this is Hyunjae.”

You blink. The boy in front of you is pretty. Dark eyes, strong jaw softened by the curve of a perfect smile, black hair pushed back sexily. He’s holding a drink loosely in his hand as his eyes sweep over you.

“Happy birthday,” he says. “You look—”

Please don’t say beautiful. Please don’t say gorgeous. Please don’t say anything he would’ve said.

“—pretty,” Hyunjae finishes. “Really fucking pretty.”

You smile. Or try to. “Thanks.”

And look, it’s not that Hyunjae isn’t nice—he is. You can already hear Yeji telling you to give him a chance. He’s the kind of boy who’d text back, who’s safe, who’d never leave you staring at a door wondering if he’ll show up on your birthday or not. Hyunjae is the kind of boy who wouldn’t cheat on you.

But the truth is, you don’t know if you can be the girl who lets someone call her pretty and fawn anymore. Not without wondering if they’ll still mean it once they see someone better, shinier, hotter than you.

Just like he did.

You nod along when Hyunjae talks. You laugh where you’re supposed to. Play nice. Be sweet. But everything he says sounds like static. Everything he is feels like a placeholder.

And then, you hear it. That deep, honey-smooth, familiar voice saying: “Happy birthday, angel.”

It slices through the room. Through you.

Because there’s only one person who ever called you that. One boy. Lee Donghyuck.

You didn’t even hear the front door open. Typical. But there he is, leaning in the doorway, all tan skin and messy hair. His hands are buried in his pockets, his jaw set tight—too tight, like he’s seconds from grinding his teeth into dust.

But it’s not you he’s looking at. It’s Hyunjae. Sitting far too close. Arm tossed lazily behind you on the couch, thigh pointing into yours, almost grazing like he owns your space.

And Hyuck notices. You know he notices.

His eyes narrow. Lips parting slightly as his tongue presses against the inside of his cheek. You know that look. You’ve seen it before. That blend of heat and hurt and possessiveness he has no right to anymore.

It hits your chest all at once—shame, hurt, lust—and you fumble. Your hand twitches with the red plastic cup still clutched tight. The drink tilts before you even realise it’s slipping. Cranberry vodka sloshes, causing sticky, cold liquid to spill down the front of your dress, dripping into the neckline.

“Fuck—” you hiss, jerking upright as the cup lands onto the coffee table. You paw uselessly at the now soaked fabric, trying to blot it with the hem of your sleeve, but it’s only smearing it worse.

Hyunjae starts to reach for a napkin, concerned. But your eyes have already found Hyuck’s again. And the way he’s looking at you now…

Your throat goes dry. “I—I’m gonna go change.”

You don’t wait for a reply. You’re moving before anyone can stop you, heart hammering against your ribs because this wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

You barely make it up the stairs, breath coming fast, fingers trembling as you reach for the door to your room. You close it. But you don’t get the chance to lock it. Because the door creaks again behind you. And then it clicks shut. You spin around. And there he is.

You don’t say anything at first.

Just stalk over to your wardrobe like it’s perfectly sane to have your ex-boyfriend—your ex-best friend, the boy you used to see every single day, the only boy you’ve ever slept with, the only person who knows all the tells on your body, the boy you still love—in your bedroom for the first time in over a year.

You wrench the closet door open. A pair of heels fall out and land with a little thud. You don’t flinch. You pretend to rifle through hangers, but you’re not looking for anything specific. All of it is just something to do with your hands, because looking at him right now would be a sick kind of torture.

“What are you doing here!?”

Hyuck doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, you only hear the soft thud of his shoes on your floor, the creak of your floorboard by the dresser. He’s closer than you want him to be.

“You invited me,” he says, like it’s obvious.

You spin around. “I invited you to my birthday party. Which started five hours ago.”

He lifts his phone, the screen glowing in the dark. “As far as I’m aware,” he says, tapping it once, “you’ve still got thirteen minutes left. So again, happy birthday, angel.”

You stiffen.

There it is. That.

That fucking word. The one that used to make you feel warm and wanted. Now it feels like an insult wrapped in silk.

“Don’t call me that.”

That stops him. Just for a second. Then, slowly, he lowers the phone. Shoves it back into his pocket.

“I thought you liked it when I called you that.”

“I used to like it,” you spit. “Back when it meant something. You know, before you fucked someone else behind my back.”

His jaw tightens. Good, you think. The truth hurts; you hope it hurts. And maybe that makes you cruel. But then again, he was cruel first.

He rubs his jaw, then exhales. “We’re really doing this now?”

You laugh dryly. “Oh, sorry. Would you prefer we pencil it in for next week instead? Talk about it over brunch sometime, yeah?”

You turn back to your wardrobe, suddenly too irritated. Your fingers find the old grey hoodie you always loved. It looks soft. Comfortable. Definitely not party appropriate. But you don’t care because you don’t want to go back out there. Not after this.

You peel your dress off in one motion, leaving you in the black lace set you picked out this morning—because it was your birthday. Not for anyone else. Not for a boy. Certainly not for him.

Him.

You forget for a moment that he’s still behind you.

It’s like your brain short-circuits in his presence. Like it still confuses this boy for the lifeline he used to be. Like your heart can’t shout loud enough to warn you: this boy broke us, this boy hurt us, this boy is bad for us. All it says is: this boy is Hyuck. This boy is sweet. This boy—we love.

You only remember when you hear him inhale—sharply—and turn around.

He’s looking at you like that again. Like he did back when he loved you, and you loved him, and he hadn’t ruined everything yet. He looks hungry, and like the only thing that might satisfy him is you.

That thought makes you clutch the hoodie to your chest. “Turn around!”

He does. Obediently. But then:

"So, did you wear that for me?"

His voice is so annoyingly smug it makes you roll your eyes as you reply. “No.”

But your cheeks betray you. Hot. Guilty. Flushed. Thank god his back is still to you, because if he turned around now and looked at you, he’d know. Because he knows all your tells. Always has.

And from just a simple flush, he’d know that yes, you wore this set for him. That yes, despite pretending you were over him in his Instagram comments, your traitorous heart had hoped that he might come tonight and rip the set off of you.

And just in case he caught your second tell (the tremor in your voice), you twist the knife a little more.

“I wore this set for Hyunjae, actually.”

A silence. Then the fucker starts laughing.

Not a little laugh. A full-bodied, head thrown back, belly laugh. You hate how much you’ve missed that sound, how it still makes your stomach flip.

“Five minutes ago, I might’ve believed that, angel,” he says, turning slightly. Just enough for you to catch the outline of his grin. “And it would’ve driven me fucking crazy.”

Your heart stutters when he nods toward your chest.

“But I wasn’t talking about your underwear,” he says, eyes dipping lower.

You follow his gaze down to the delicate gold chain resting just above the swell of your breasts. The one with the tiny heart pendant. The one with the H engraving.

“I was talking about that necklace. The one I bought you for your sixteenth birthday,” He cocks his head. Smirking now. “Did you wear it for me?”

Your fingers fly to it instinctively. You hadn’t taken it off. Not even after finding out. You always wore it underneath your clothes, tucked away like a secret, because Yeji would have a field day if she knew you still wore his necklace.

But in the heat of the moment, stripping down to your underwear, your brain hadn’t realised that he’d see it again.

“I thought I told you to turn around,” you snap, furious with yourself.

He lifts his hands defensively. “I am turned around.”

“I meant your head, not just your body, Hyuck.”

And so he does, again. Obediently.

You pull the hoodie on. It swallows you immediately. The sleeves dangle past your hands, the hem skims your thighs, and it smells like dust and weirdly like…the boy behind you.

“I’m decent,” you mutter.

He turns around, eyes flicking down before he smiles. Not smug, this time. Just soft and… a little sad?

“That’s mine.”

You roll your eyes, tugging at the sleeves. “No it isn’t.”

“Yes, it is. It’s massive on you. And unless you’ve got a secret stash of men’s hoodies in your closet, that one’s mine.”

You glare. “Oh yeah? And who says I don’t have a collection of men’s hoodies in my closet?”

“I do.”

So fast. So sure.

You scoff, a single sharp laugh. “God, you think so highly of yourself.”

He crosses his arms—all tensed jaw and too-tight t-shirt—and it’s irritating, how stupidly good he looks whilst being smug.

“Yeah,” he says, deadpan. “I do. Because, despite us being broken up, you still wear my necklace.” He nods toward your nightstand. “You still have a photo of us beside your bed.” And then, one step closer. “And you fucking invited me here tonight.”

You lift your chin. “I invited everyone. It was a mass text.”

“Funny,” he says, a fake smile forming, “Mark didn’t get a text.”

“Aww,” you coo, mocking. “You still talk to your friends about me, Hyuck? Christ. Now I’m gonna start thinking highly of myself.”

“You should.”

For some reason, those two simple words hit you like a slap across the face. Because no.

“You don’t get to do that!” you snap at him. “You don’t get to tell me I should think highly of myself when you’re the exact reason I can’t even imagine the top anymore, Hyuck!” You laugh bitterly. “I don’t know my worth because you had me. But you wanted something else.”

And in that moment—maybe it’s your tone, or maybe it’s accountability—a flash of hurt crosses his face, that makes him wince.

“Y/N, angel…” His voice cracks a little on your name, as he runs a hand through his hair. “Fuck! It was one mistake. You don’t understand—”

But you don’t want to hear it. You’ve already heard it.

You hold up a hand, stopping him from wasting his breath. “I don’t want to understand anything about the night you decided to fuck another girl, thank you very much, Hyuck.”

“Of course, I get that but—”

“But?” you raise an eyebrow in disbelief.

“Yes, but, Y/N,” he fires back. “Because I don’t know what you want from me. You say you don’t want to forgive me—and I get it. I don’t deserve your forgiveness.” He’s pacing now. “But you string me along. You comment on my posts, you let me drive you home, you still have my fucking hoodies—”

His eyes flick down to the one you’re wearing now, oversized and drooping around the neckline to show that gold chain.

“—you wear my initials around your neck, and you asked me to come tonight—you. And now you’re mad that I’m here?”

His voice rises and you swallow—hard. Like maybe if you keep swallowing, you’ll stop the tears from climbing all the way up your throat. Because it’s all too raw. All of it. Him. You.This.

He’s unraveling in front of you. And even though you know—deep in your bones—that he doesn’t have the right to be this angry, a part of you gets it. Because this awful, splintered, aching love you have for him is confusing. It’s contradictory. It fucks with your brain so much that it doesn’t matter that you’re hurting because he’s hurting too.

And that’s all you can focus on.

It’s like you said: nobody gets you and Hyuck.

“I don’t know what you want from me, angel,” he says again, quieter this time. He takes a slow step forward. Close enough to reach out and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, like he used to.

His hand lingers.

“I don’t know what you want,” he breathes, “but if you tell me—I’ll give it to you.”

Your breath stutters. Your throat tightens.

And then, so quiet you almost miss it: “Because. I. Love. You.”

You close your eyes. You don’t want to. You don’t even mean to. But those three words wrap around you tight.

“Don’t,” your voice cracks. “Don’t say that to me, Hyuck. Not after everything.”

When you open your eyes again, they’re full of tears. Angry ones. Bitter ones. Hopeful ones too—because you’re weak, and stupid, and still a little bit in love with a boy who shattered you.

“I mean it,” he says instantly. His hand twitches at his side—you see it. He wants to touch you. Wants to wipe your tears like he used to because he hates them. But he doesn’t know if he has permission anymore. (He does, but he doesn’t know he does.)

“I’ve always meant it.”

“Then why’d you throw it all away?” You spit the words out like poison. “Why did you ruin us for a quick fuck?”

“I don’t know,” he breathes, stepping back. “But I do know I hurt you. And I’ll hate myself for that forever. But I never stopped loving you. Not for a second.”

You laugh. But it sounds more like a sob. “You have a funny way of showing love.”

“I know.”

“You know everything,” you say, “except why you did it.”

A beat passes. Two. Three.

“You should go,” you whisper. “The party’s over. You’ve said what you needed to say. And I thought I could do this but I can’t.”

“No.”

Your eyes fly to his. He’s shaking his head, tongue in his cheek again as he sniffs.

“No,” he says again “I’m not leaving us like this.”

“I don’t want you here.”

“Liar.”

“Hyuck—”

“You want me to say it again?” he asks, voice rising just slightly. Not angry. Only desperate. “You want me to beg? Fine. I will. I’ll fucking get on my knees if that’s what it takes.”

And then, to your absolute horror, he does.

“Hyuck, stop—”

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out. “I’m sorry for everything. For all of it. For her. For the lies. For shattering everything good we ever had. But I love you, Y/N. And I’m not sorry for that. I’ll never be sorry for that.”

You’re trying to stay angry. Trying to hold onto the rage but it’s slipping. Because you want him. You love him.

He’s still on his knees. Still looking up at you. Still pleading. You wish he’d just stand up. You wish he didn’t look so much like the boy you fell in love with instead of the man who broke you.

“Please,” he says again.“I know I don’t get to ask. But I’m asking anyway. I’m asking because I love you. I never stopped. I swear to God, I never—”

“Stop it,” you say, too fast.

It feels like your chest caves in. Because the thing about love is: it’s loud. Louder than hurt. Especially right now. You love him so much you could scream. But instead, you drop down to your knees. Right there in front of him. And before you know it, your hands are reaching for him. Stupid, traitorous things.

“Stop,” you whisper. “Please, stop.”

But he doesn’t.

Of course he doesn’t.

Because he’s Hyuck. And Hyuck never knows when to shut up.

“I know I ruined it,” he’s saying. “I know I don’t deserve a second chance. I wouldn’t forgive me either. I wouldn’t. But I can’t stop loving you. I’ve tried. God, I’ve tried so hard. I’ve kissed girls who weren’t you and I’ve gone home wanting to claw off my own skin.”

You suck in a breath.

“You don’t have to forgive me now. Or ever. Just let me prove it. Let me try. I’ll wait. I’ll wait for you for fucking ever, I swear—”

You’re kissing him.

You have no idea why, but it just feels like you have to. Because you physically can’t not. Because the love of your life, him, is bleeding out in front of you and you’re the only one who knows how to stop it.

And when your mouth crahses into his, it tastes like heartbreak and history and every stupid, selfish thing he’s ever done. But you keep kissing him. Because just as much as it hurts—it feels like home. Like you’ve finally been returned to the place you belong. Like his lips have been waiting for yours all this time.

He’s kissing you back just as fiercely. Like he might die if he doesn’t. And maybe he would. Maybe you would too.

You don’t know who moves first. You think it’s you, but maybe it’s him. You’re both equally desperate—lunging backward until his back knocks against the foot of your bedframe and you’re straddling his hips.

His hands find your waist, landing heavy and possessive around you. But you don’t mind, because your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging just hard enough to make him groan into your mouth—and God, you missed that sound. Missed him like oxygen.

His mouth moves to your neck, lips skimming every slither of skin he can reach, greedily not wanting to miss a single piece of you since he’s trying to make up for all the parts he used to take for granted. And you tilt your head back, giving him that access, because you’ve never been able to deny him anything.

“Tell me you’re still mine,” he breathes against your skin, half-choked.

You should tell him no. Should tell him he doesn’t get to ask things like that—not when he gave himself away so easily. Not now when he’ll never solely be yours like you’re solely his.

But your heart is so tired and so in love it’s ridiculous, so instead you whisper: “I never stopped being yours.”

And then he’s kissing you again—deeper, this time. Until he pulls away and his forehead presses to yours, and he pants against your lips. “Let me love you,” he begs. “Please. Let me love you right this time.”

He feels solid beneath you. It’s making your brain fuzzy. It’s making you whimper.

“Okay,” you pant, tugging harder at those soft brown strands, as your hips shift and grind down against him, making him groan lowly.

His hands clamp tighter around your waist, dragging you down harder, closer, like he’s trying to fuse you to him. And suddenly your skin feels too tight. You’re too aware of the clothes between you—what little there is.

Because you didn’t put on pants. Just that hoodie of his over your pathetic pair of black panties—thin, useless fabric—and now your pussy is rubbing right up against the thick outline of him through his jeans, and it’s overwhelming. You can feel absolutely everything you’ve missed.

Heat blooms in your stomach and you roll your hips again. It’s so shameless. So needy. But you don’t care. Not when it’s been this long. Not when it’s his fault it’s been this long—because you never would’ve let it be anyone else.

And he meets you in it. Each grind matched with one of his own, more harsh than the last. Until his hips are moving on impulse, chasing you like a man starved. His head drops to your shoulder, and his breath stutters.

“Fuck, angel, slow down,” he chokes, “You’re killing me.”

You press your lips to his temple, to his jaw, anywhere you can reach, and whisper, breathless, “You deserve it.”

He groans—louder this time—like he agrees.

His hands slide beneath your hoodie, fingers splayed wide, dragging up the warm skin of your back like he’s relearning it.

“I can’t believe this is happening again,” he breathes into your neck. “You can’t be real.”

But you are. You’re right here. Straddling him. Shaking for him. Letting him touch you like he never stopped having the right to.

He kisses your collarbone. Then lower—your sternum, the tops of your breasts, the edge of lace peeking from beneath his hoodie. His hoodie. That fact alone seems to snap something inside him.

“Fuck,” he mutters, and then he’s pushing the fabric up and up and up, until it pools around your ribs and the cold air hits your bare stomach. You shiver.

“Take it off,” he murmurs. “Please. Want to see you.”

You raise your arms, let him peel it over your head, and suddenly you’re half-naked in his lap—wearing nothing but that black set you wanted him to rip off, then didn’t, then did… and now, he is. Fingers working at the clasp, slipping the straps from your shoulders and tossing the bra aside in your room somewhere.

And then, he takes his time letting his eyes drag over you. Taking a sick pride in seeing his initial rest in the valley of your breast.

“Jesus,” he whispers. “You’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

And something about that word—still—makes your stomach twist.

Your arms fold over your boobs on instinct, shielding yourself from the one person you’ve always felt safest with. Because still means there’s someone else now. Someone he’s looked at. Someone he’s touched. Someone you had to beat—and somehow did.

But you shouldn’t have had to.

He notices the shift immediately—how your arms cross, how your body goes stiff, how the room, warm just a second ago, chills.

“Hey. Hey,” he says, brows furrowing. He cups your face, thumbs brushing just beneath your eyes. “Talk to me, angel. What’s wrong? What happened?”

You’re still straddling him, half-naked, kissed raw and dizzy, and yet you feel like you’re a million miles away. You try to speak, to explain, but the words choke you. How do you tell him something he’s never known? How do you make him understand? You’ve never done this to him before—and just knowing how much it hurts—you don’t think you ever could.

“I just—” your voice cracks. “I can’t stop thinking about her.”

He flinches—just enough for you to know it landed. But he doesn’t pull away.

The thing is, he doesn’t say her name. Doesn’t even mention her. Never has. But she’s here. Right here. In this room. Your room. In the silence. In his presence.

He shakes his head like he’s trying to wipe the thought away. “No. No, don’t do that. Don’t think about her. This—” his hands cup your face tighter, gently desperate, “—this is you and me. Always you.”

Your jaw clenches, your eyes sting. “Then why wasn’t it only me?”

He swallows hard, his gaze dropping to your lips before flickering away. He doesn’t answer—of course he doesn’t. He never does. And that’s been half the war between you. He doesn’t want to tell you the why.

Instead, his hands drift from your face to your waist, pulling you in like proximity might somehow make up for his silence. Like touch could smother your insecurities.

His breath ghosts over your skin as he leans in.“Forget her. Just for now. Right here, right now, it’s only you. Only us.”

You hate that you melt. Hate that the ache in your chest loosens its grip the second his hands coax your arms from where you’d folded them. Hate that even after everything, he still knows how to make you feel safe inside the wreckage he caused.

He’s infuriating.

“Let me show you,” he whispers. “That it’s always only been you for me.”

His hands skim up your sides, thumbs brushing delicately beneath your tits. His eyes never leave yours—not for a second—as he kneads and explores and feels your body in his palm. And then his mouth follows.

Lips warm, slightly chapped, close around your right nipple. Your breath punches out of you. You can’t help it because his tongue flicks once, then again, then again until your spine arches and pushes the bud further into his mouth.

“Hyuck,” you moan, helpless, feeling the curve of his smirk drag against your skin.

His free hand trails up your other side, rolling the neglected peak between calloused fingers so deliciously because he remembers exactly what used to make you fall apart, and now he’s hell-bent on proving he hasn’t forgotten.

“God, you’re fucking unreal,” he murmurs against your skin, then bites gently, just enough to make you gasp.

His words make you ache. Everywhere. Especially between your legs, where you’re still pressed tight against the thick, unrelenting shape of him through his jeans. And he hasn’t even touched you there yet, but it’s coming—you know it is.

His mouth keeps going, warm and wet whilst he stays sucking just hard enough to turn your bones to water. And whenever you whimper he groans.

“Please, Hyuck,” you plead. “Need more.”

He lifts his head, murmuring, “Yeah? You want me to show you how much I missed you?”

You nod, dizzy.

“Fuck,” he groans and wastes no time lifting you off the floor like it’s nothing, carrying you to your bed. He lays you down gently, spreads you out beneath him like something precious. And then he peels off his t-shirt.

That tan skin—scattered with moles you’ve memorised, counted, traced with your fingers and your mouth—is on full display, just for you.

“I’ll give you everything,” he says, voice low as he drops to his knees, crawling between your legs. “Absolutely everything. As long as you don’t regret this. Don’t regret me.”

Your fingers sink into his hair before you can think. “I won’t,” you whisper. “Couldn’t.”

And then he dips down.

His mouth finds the inside of your thigh, open-mouthed kisses dragging tantalisingly up your skin. He’s not rushing. He never does when he gives head. It’s his favourite thing to savour. You. On his tongue.

“You’ve no idea how long I’ve thought about this,” he murmurs, nipping at your skin, making you gasp. “How many times I’ve had to stop myself from texting. From begging you to take me back.”

“Who said anything about taking you back?” You say, hips shifting, dying for friction, but he pins them with strong hands, keeping you right where he wants you.

“I did,” he says, a smirk ghosting over his lips. “Am I wrong, Y/N? Because if I am, we can stop right now?”

“No,” you whine on a trembling breath.

He smiles. “I didn’t think so.”

Then, finally, finally—his mouth finds the place you need him most.

He licks a slow stripe up your center, groaning from the taste of you in his mouth. He does it again, and then again, until your legs are trembling and one of your hands fists the sheets, the other tangled in his hair, pulling and tugging at it, just how he likes. Just how you like.

He flicks his tongue, circles it, moans when you cry out for more.

“God, you taste the same,” he says hoarsely. “Still fucking perfect.”

You try to respond, to say something, but then he sucks again, so hard, you almost shoot clean off the bed.

“Hyuck—please,” it’s half a sob, a half moan, one hundered percent completley ruined.

He growls, arms locking around your thighs to keep you still, mouth relentless as he licks and sucks and worships like this is his penance.

“Shit, Y/N,” he mutters between licks, “I missed how fucking responsive you are. Always so good for me.”

You whimper. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

“Not gonna,” he promises. “Not until you fall apart for me. Right here. Right now.”

He hums, the vibration making your stomach flutter, and you swear your heart forgets how to beat.

“Let me make you come,” he says, voice completely ruined now too. “Wanna feel you fall apart on my mouth. Please.”

And you do. You let him. Because you want this. Want him. Still. Always.

Your entire body coils, legs shaking, hands clawing at the sheets as your orgasm crashes through you. It’s shattering, making you cry out, his name falling from your lips repeatedly.

Hyuck doesn’t stop. Not until your body finally slumps back to the mattress, boneless and trembling. Only then does he lift his head, lips wet and shiny. He crawls up your body, kissing your thigh, your stomach, the underside of your boobs, your jaw. Everywhere. Until he’s hovering over you, and you’re staring up at him, glassy-eyed and overwhelmed.

“You okay?” he whispers, brushing hair gently back from your face.

You nod, breath catching. “Yeah. I just... I can’t believe you’re here.”

“I never really left,” he says. “Even though I know I should have. I’m too damn selfish.”

Your throat tightens. You reach up, tracing his jaw with shaking fingers. “I want you to fuck me, Hyuck.”

He blinks, then his eyes darken. “You’re sure?”

You pull him down until your foreheads press again and then whisper a soft, “Yes.”

Then he kisses you. Slowly. Passionately in a way you know this about to be more than just fucking. It feels like the before. The soft. His hands coming up to your face, thumbs brushing your cheekbones. Everything so tender and full of love.

And somewhere between the kiss and the forgetting, his pants are off. His boxers too. He’s about to fuck you completely raw—like he used to—and for a moment, your body almost lets him. Because it remembers. The blind trust.

But this isn’t then. And that’s why you reach out, fingers curling gently around his forearm. Stopping him.

“Condom,” you whisper, cheeks flushing as you glance toward the nightstand.

Because it shouldn’t have to be like this. Back then, you were on the pill. You were his. He was yours. There was no one else. But now? Now you’ve had to share him—with her. Maybe with others too.

He freezes. And for a second, you swear he looks gutted. But then he nods.

Wordlessly, he reaches into your nightstand, gets one open and rolls it on his cock. He doesn’t protest. He never would. Because it’s not the condom that guts him—it’s what it means. It’s that reminder that everything’s different now. And why. A barrier he put there himself because he was reckless, drunk, stupid and ungrateful. A consequence he crafted with his own hands.

But he doesn’t let that thought linger too long. The past is the past—he hates thinking about it. It’s what wrecked him. What wrecked this. What wrecked you.

Now, all he wants is the present. Not even the future. Just this. Just you. Because you’re here. Beneath him. Asking him to fuck you. You’re his—if only for now. And that’s enough.

He slides back over you. And for a second—just one—you both just… look.

You’re looking at him like maybe this could fix it. He’s looking at you like he knows it won’t. Sex doesn’t fix anything. It’s what broke you two in the first place if you really think about it . But he’s still doing it. And so are you.

He pushes inside of you slowly and your breath stutters, nails digging crescent moons into his biceps.

“Fucking hell,” he groans, voice tight and thick. “You feel like—”

“Home,” you whisper, beating him to it.

Because you do. And he does. And it’s pathetic. And perfect. And completely going to destroy you in the morning.

His forehead drops to yours and he lets out a shaky breath, like the kind that comes right before someone starts to cry. But he doesn’t cry—he moves. Gently. Tenderly.

You cling to him, every nerve alight, oversensitive in that desperate, raw way that makes you breathless beneath him—letting him kiss you through it, through the pain, through the slow, aching stretch of him inside you.

And in between those kisses and the thrusts and the way your fingers tangle in his hair again, he whispers:

“Missed you.”

“God, I missed you.”

“I’ll never stop being sorry.”

He fucks you like he’s trying to put you back together with every snap of his hips. And maybe he is.

So you let him.

You let him fuck you until you’re both a mess of moans and apologies and, fractured I love yous. Until you’re panting in time with each other. Until you’re cumming—together.

After, it’s quiet.

Not awkward or bitter or biting, but comfortable. You’re tangled in each other, limbs overlapping, as Hyuck brushes his nose against your temple. Eventually, he slips out of you, careful to not hurt you, but you flinch at the loss. He presses a kiss to your forehead, one to each cheek, and then he’s moving—disposing of the condom, finding his way back to your side.

“Let’s shower,” he murmurs, thumb storoking your jaw. “Let me take care of you first. And after… we’ll talk, yeah?”

You don’t say anything—because you can’t. Your throat is raw from all the moaning and the whimpering. And also because you’re scared of the talking. Terrified, really. Of the hurting that’ll come with addressing it.

So instead, you swallow and say softly, “I’ll be a minute. Just... need a sec before I move.”

He pauses, like he’s checking you over again, brows pinching. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Not in the way he means.

“No,” you whisper. “Just… been out of the game for a while.”

He pauses but doesn’t argue. Just leans in and presses the gentlest kiss to your cheek.

“Okay,” he murmurs, brushing a damp strand of hair behind your ear. “I’ll start the shower.”

He slips out quietly, to the bathroom attached to your room. You hear the soft creak of the cabinets. He still remembers where everything is.

And then—of course—his phone buzzes.

You glance over. You don’t mean to look. You really, really don’t. You know you shouldn’t if you wanna rebuild trust and whatever. It’s just…It’s on the floor, fallen from his jeans with the screen lighting up.

It was taunting you.

And anyway, he’s the one that broke your trust first. He’s the one that made you so paranoid. He’s the one who made you like this.

Yeji

if i find out you went to that party tonight, hyuck, and didn’t tell her the truth, i will.

Your stomach drops straight through the mattress.

Another buzz.

Yeji

i’m serious. how long are you gonna keep it from her that it was lia you cheated on her with?

you’re ruining our friendship!

And suddenly you’re not warm anymore.

Suddenly you’re freezing. And hollow. And very, very awake and out of the afterglow sex haze.

You can’t breathe.

You feel sick.

Are you sick? Are you dying? Are you about to have a fucking panic attack?

Because it feels like something has clawed its way into your chest and is now eating you alive from the inside out.

Lia?

It all makes sense. It all echoes.

“That sweet boy we both used to love.”

“He’s not yours anymore.”

The door creaks again. Hyuck walks back in, towel slung low on his hips. Completely clueless.

“You okay?” he asks, soft and smiling. “Shower’s warm.”

You don’t answer because your heart is hammering against your ribs and because you physically, viscerally, cannot breathe.

His smile falters, just a touch.

And then you say it.

One word. One name.

“Lia?”

You’re not even sure if you want to scream at him, or sob, or laugh—because how dare he. How dare he touch you like that, kiss you like that, look at you like that, when he knew—he fucking knew—he’d fucked your best friend and said nothing.

The same best friend who held you while you cried over him for a year. Who told you it wasn’t your fault. Who had her arms wrapped around you less than an hour ago trying to comfort you about him.

You hold out his phone, pointing to the screen. “You fucked my best friend, Hyuck?”

He freezes. He lifts an arm reaching out towards you or towards his phone, you can’t tell. Probably the phone to see how much you know so he can spin it. Twist it. Try to manipulate this—manipulate you—again.

“Angel—”

“My name is Y/N.”

The words are a blade. His hand drops.

“Y/N,” he breathes, swallowing thickly, “it’s not what it looks like—”

But it is. You both know it.

“Yeji seems to think it’s exactly what it sounds like.”

And then it hits you. All over again. Yeji knew. Your other best friend. She knew.

Did everyone know? Everyone you loved? Everyone you trusted? Everyone you thought was safe?

And suddenly your knees give out. You drop to the floor, spine hitting the edge of the bed on the way down, but you don’t even register the pain. You’re already somewhere else, hands trembling, vision blurry, gasping like there’s no oxygen.

That fucking necklace around your neck—the one he gave you, the one you swore you'd never take off—isn’t fucking helping. So you rip it off. The chain snapping in your fist and you throw it. It lands at his feet.

It’s the first time you’ve taken it off since you were sixteen.

“Y/N—”

Hyuck’s voice sounds panicked now. Hurting. He kneels in front of you, eyes wide, reaching for you—

“Don’t you dare touch me!”

You flinch so hard you nearly hit the nightstand. You can’t stand the idea of him touching you now, even though you know there isn’t a part of you he hasn’t touched.

He freezes. Arm stopping in the air. His face furrowed. And you know that face. The face from the night, the one carved from guilt and horror and regret—but it’s too late.

It’s so late.

You’re sobbing now. And it’s ugly—gasping and choking and curling up on the floor.

“I—I didn’t mean for it to happen like that,” he whispers. “I never wanted to hurt you—”

You laugh. Actually laugh.

“You didn’t want to hurt me?” You shake your head, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, spit and snot and mascara streaking your face. “Hyuck, you fucked my best friend. And then you came here, tonight, and touched me like…like I was still yours.”

“You are—”

“No. No, I’m not!” You snap. “I don’t even know who I am right now. But I definitely am not—and never will be—yours again.”

“Please, Y/N,” he whispers. “Let me explain. It wasn’t—”

“You’ve had time to explain.” Your voice trembles, but the words are steel. “I gave you so much of myself. So much trust. So much love.” You swallow hard. “But it wasn’t enough, was it? You needed to fuck my best friend. And keep it from me. And somehow rope the other one into it too, so now—”

Your voice cracks.

“So now I can’t trust anyone.”

He opens his mouth, maybe to argue, maybe to lie, maybe to beg. But then he doesn’t. He doesn’t say a word. He just looks at you, regret written in every line of his stupid, beautiful face.

He doesn’t deny it. And that’s the last straw. You fold in on yourself. Arms wrapping tight around your knees as you bury your head and whisper: “I need you to leave.”

He doesn’t move.

You look up—eyes glassy, voice so quiet and weak.

“Get out, Hyuck. Now, please”

And this time, he listens. And you’re glad he listens. Because this time it feels different. This was it. The final fracture. Whatever you had with him? It’s dead now. You just wish you hadn’t kept it on life support for so long—wish you hadn’t clung so tightly to something already bleeding.

That thousandth cut finally bled dry.

#nct smut #haechan smut #nct dream smut #nct 127 smut #nct x reader #haechan x reader #nct dream x reader #nct 127 x reader #nct hard hours #nct angst #nct dream angst #haechan angst #nct 127 angst #kpop smut #may a love like this NEVER find me

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