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alltheirdamn · 4 months

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Lilies | dom!joel x sub!f!reader

Song Inspo: Lilies by Ethel Cain

Summary: Joel gives you everything, but you’re beginning to crave more. Rating: 18+ Explicit MDNI Word Count: 5.5k (sorry lol) Warnings: dom/sub dynamic, a teeny tiny bit of Stockholm syndrome, lingerie!kink, reader has long enough hair to braid, brat taming, jealousy, angst, names (little flower, sir, whore, slut), degrading!kink, anal play, anal sex, orgasm denial, oral (m!receiving), throat fucking, ball-sucking/worship, rough sex, creampie, slapping, spanking, aftercare, joel is kinda a meany but also kinda sweet A/N: this just kind of tumbled out of me and yeah… here we are lol very far out of my element with this dynamic, so hopefully i did it justice. (i am very horny for dom!joel right now, please don’t perceive me)

Masterlist | Ko-Fi

The rules were simple:

You were to be at Joel’s home at exactly four pm every Friday and stay with him until Sunday evening

Your hair must be in a braid at all times

You could only wear lingerie (selected and purchased by Joel)

That was your routine.

You had been Joel’s submissive for half a year, and nothing had changed. You submitted to everything he asked without question. Yes, there were safe words in place and long conversations about wants and needs, but none of that mattered to you. All that mattered was Joel’s unwavering attention every weekend.

As time passed, though, you started wanting more. Three days weren’t enough for you. The rules weren’t enough. You wanted all of Joel. Not just his commands. Not just his cock. You wanted him to be yours in every way.

Nothing within Joel’s rules explicitly stated you could only see one another. As far as you were concerned, he only tended to one submissive at a time, and you had been with him the longest. Pride swelled inside you when you thought of that; Joel kept you because he wanted you. He enjoyed the pleasure you brought him, and in return, he cared for you deeply. But you wanted to see how deeply he cared about you and if he was as committed to you as you were to him.

That's when you devised a meticulously thought-out plan to prove Joel’s possessiveness. The desperate need to make him realize there would be no one else to make him happy.

You clicked the door open at precisely four pm and entered Joel's home. He kept it spotless, an immaculate representation of his attention to detail. Nothing went unnoticed, and everything had its place and purpose. Within his home, you had your purpose as well.

Tip-toeing through his kitchen, you brushed your hand over the marble counter, the stone cold to touch as you walked into the living room. Floor-to-ceiling bay windows compromised the room's side wall, looking out onto the brick terrace. Joel’s view of the city was the best money could buy, and you spent most Saturday mornings curled up on the patio sofa, watching the sun rise over the skyline.

The plush, gray couch in the center of the living room faced a large flat screen, one rarely used when you stayed on the weekends. Joel insisted on being present with you, whether it was fucking you into oblivion inside his bedroom or dotting over you with aftercare and affection. The lines blurred between strict rules and faltering emotions. He wasn’t a man of many words, but the feelings expressed through actions were enough to make your heart grow fonder.

Joel was to arrive home in less than thirty minutes, giving you enough time to piece yourself together in the new lingerie he had purchased. Wandering into the bedroom, you looked over the sight of his king-sized bed, covered in a white down comforter and scattered with an array of luxury pillows. The sheets beneath the comforter were silky soft and cool to the touch, but the press of Joel’s body against yours during the night kept you wrapped in a blanket of warmth.

The master bath was beyond beautiful, with its white trimmed crowning and alabaster bathtub under the window. Two sinks were carved into a marble counter: one for Joel and one for you. Countless times before, Joel bent you over the counter, forcing you to watch him through the bathroom mirror as he ruined you from behind. You came to learn that was one of Joel’s favorite activities: making you watch him while he fucked you. You loved it, too.

You loved everything he did.

Setting your overnight bag on the counter, you laid out your lingerie piece by piece. The white lace bustier was practically see-through, with a detailed pattern that left little to the imagination. The only part of the top that wasn’t fully transparent was the fishbone wiring that traced the underside of the bust. The matching underwear was no better; your neatly trimmed sex would be fully seen under the lace that comprised the tiny bodice. In Joel’s words, he wanted you to look “angelic and ethereal.” Once again, the thrumming in your heart increased knowing he saw you as such. He worshiped you head to toe, and you were so eager to give him anything he wanted. Slipping the garment over your body, you worked on your hair, plaiting the strands into a perfect braid you had mastered over the last several months. You secured it with a silk bow—just as Joel had requested—and settled it between your shoulder blades. Admiring yourself, you smiled into the mirror. Joel would be pleased with you.

But first, you needed to do something.

Reaching into your purse for your cell phone, you adjusted the camera to capture your lace-clad body in a teasing portrait. The photo wasn’t for Joel. Scrolling through your phone, you found the contact of your latest man of interest—well, not a genuine interest, so perhaps, the latest victim? You were only using him as part of your plan, and you hoped it worked in your favor.

As your finger hovered over the send button, you heard the unmistakable sound of the front door lock sliding open. A thrill of anxiety rushed through your body; you would do this. Pressing send, you ran to the bedroom and placed your phone on the nightstand. The ringer was on, which Joel did not favor during your time with him.

His large frame shadowed the bedroom door as he stepped into the room. In all his glory, Joel Miller was yours for the next seventy-two hours. But if you had it your way, he’d be yours forever. Clad in his usual work attire, his broad shoulders and chest stretched out his business suit, the white button-down peeking out beneath the jacket. His thick thighs were covered in well-tailored trousers, and his shoes were pristine and polished as he liked. Gazing up, you drank in the neatly trimmed scruff along his jaw, the silver patches thickening as they neared his ears. The mustache over his upper lip was just as clean, the edges dipping close to the curve of his mouth—which was currently tipped up into a satisfied grin.

“Hello, little flower,” he greeted.

Little flower.

That had always been his preferred name for you. “You’re so delicate, like a little flower. I could marvel at your beauty but crush you in my hand in seconds.”

Such a sentiment shouldn’t ignite something so visceral inside you, but it sounded so sweet when it fell off his tongue in honey-drench syllables.

“Hello, sir,” you smiled, your body situated on the edge of the bed.

You watched as he shed his suit jacket, folding it carefully and draping it over the dresser. His eyes stayed trained on you, the rich brown of his irises boring into you with a softness so tender it toppled something inside your stomach. Working at the cuffs of his shirt, Joel rolled them in perfect sections until they hugged the thick muscles of his forearms just below his elbows.

“You look radiant in the new set,” he said, his eyes dragging over your body.

You preened at his compliment, a blush crawling over your chest and neck.

“Thank you, sir. I love anything you pick out for me.”

Joel cracked a wide grin, pleased with your response. He curled his pointer finger at you, beckoning you closer. You obeyed his command wordlessly, stepping into his warmth. Rough, calloused fingers trailed over your bare skin, trailing higher up your arm until his hand came to cup your cheek.

Your eyes fluttered shut as he rubbed a thumb over your cheekbone, the touch you craved when you weren’t in his presence. You craved tenderness at all hours of the day; you lay awake sometimes at night yearning for more. Always more.

You craned your neck to kiss his lips softly, gently. If you could choose how you’d die, it would always be in this moment, where the world dissolved around you, and it was just Joel’s body against yours.

The moment shattered away as your phone shrilled from the nightstand, the vibration rattling the wood. Joel broke from your lips, his eyes set ablaze and swimming in darkness. Disappointment washed over his features, the crease between his brow forming and his lips set in a thin line. Without a single word, he strode to the nightstand and stared at your phone screen, no doubt flooded with texts from the man you had sent the photos.

Your heart thudded in your ears, the sound pressurizing inside your head. On bated breath, you waited for him to say something.

“Kneel,” he ordered, his voice cold. He didn’t even glance at you as he said the word.

You did without hesitation, your knees dropping to the carpet floor without a sound. The tension in the room was palatable as Joel walked into your line of vision. He held the phone in front of your face, his fingers tight around the edges.

“Read.”

Your eyes scanned the words on the screen, a slew of text messages… each more vulgar than the last. You didn’t want to say them aloud.

“Read,” he repeated.

“I—I don’t want to, sir,” you whispered.

Joel’s body was foreboding, a shadow swallowing you whole as you sat perched on your knees before him. He could do anything he wanted to you, and the truth was that you’d let him. You’d let him do anything because you wanted it. You wanted him so desperately.

“I didn’t ask if you wanted to read it,” he said. “I am telling you to read it.”

You swallowed thickly, your voice barely above a whisper, as you began to read off the text thread.

Damn, I need to know what your pussy looks like.

Let’s meet up tomorrow.

Send another picture. I want to see your legs spread wider.

Bet you would let me cum inside you.

Line after line, word after word, you were embarrassed. Embarrassed and afraid, neither settled well inside your stomach as it churched together.

Tossing the phone to the ground, Joel crouched to meet you at eye level. It was the first time you felt terrified by the way he looked at you. Several times, he had been rough—almost always, as it was what he enjoyed—but there was always a glimmer of softness even when he hurt you.

“You did this for a reason.” Joel didn’t ask; he said it like a calculated realization.

You bowed your head, too ashamed to meet his eye. Oh, but he didn’t like that. Gripping your chin with merciless strength, Joel lifted your face to meet his. A breath apart, but so far away.

“Explain yourself, little flower. I’m growing rather impatient.”

“I wanted to see you jealous, sir,” you admonished. “I wanted to know what you would do.”

“Jealous,” he echoed, rolling his tongue over his teeth.

He ripped his hand from your face, letting your head fall between your shoulders. You started at the polished tips of his work shoes, the black leather shiny and without marks. No detail went unnoticed.

“Undo my belt,” he instructed, stretching himself back to his full height.

Straightening your spine, you reached up to his belt and began to unclasp the metal, holding it tight around his trousers. Joel continued to stare down at you unamused. You worked at pushing his pants down his thick thighs, shoving them far enough to reach his kneecaps.

“Take out my cock. Let’s see how well I’ve trained your throat.”

You hooked your thumbs into the waistband of his boxers, giving them a good tug until his thick cock sprung free. It bobbed against his stomach, the reddened tip weeping with precum. Your hand came up to grip the girthy base, but Joel tutted in protest.

“Hands behind your back, little flower.”

Clasping your hands at the base of your spine, you peered up at him with an eager expression. Joel arched a brow, waiting for you to comply and give him his request. Shuffling your knees forward, you dragged the tip of your tongue over the slit, lapping at the salty precum that dripped down. You peppered him with kitten kisses, your tongue tracing the veins on the underside of his cock. Joel rewarded you with a satisfied hum, bucking his hips forward until the head of his cock parted your lips wider.

Dropping your jaw open, you welcomed each girthy inch of his cock into your warm mouth, the faint smell of his body wash mingling with his musky scent as you took him deeper. The moment the head of his cock brushed the back of your throat, you sputtered softly and felt the tears begin to well in your eyes as you squeezed them shut.

Joel ripped himself from your mouth, his hand coming down to squish your cheeks together.

“Keep your eyes open.”

“Yes, sir,” you said sheepishly.

He released his grip on your face and adjusted himself back at your wet lips. Sucking in a deep breath, you wrapped your mouth around his cock once more. Joel jerked his hips forward, sending his cock to the back of your throat. You swallowed around him, keeping your tongue flat against the underside of his cock. Your nose brushed against the trimmed curls that framed his pubic bones, the hairs tickling your nose as he held you there.

“I’m going to count to ten, little flower. Be a good girl, and show me how well you can take it.”

You nodded, your mouth suctioning tighter around him. Joel’s eyes darkened, his lips parted as he readied himself to count.

“One,” he barked.

You blinked away the tears springing in the corner of your eyes. You could do this; you had done it before.

“Two.”

You unhinged your jaw, your senses invaded by his scent as you pressed further into his pubic hair. Somewhere between breaths, Joel counted three and four with a loud grunt, and you continued to focus on exhaling through your nose.

“Five,” he gritted.

The urge to gag around his cock grew harder to ignore, and the tears flowed freely down your cheeks. Your chin was coated in drool as you anticipated the next count, your eyes foggy as you stared up at him. Joel tilted his head, admiring how he stuffed every crevice of your mouth.

“Six.”

“Seven.”

More saliva pooled in your mouth, and you hollowed your cheeks to avoid sputtering around him. Joel’s lips curled into a devilish smirk, and he nudged his pelvis closer until your nose smashed into his skin. You coughed around his length, the corners of your mouth dripping saliva onto your neck and chest.

“Almost there, little flower. Doing so good for me,” he crooned.

Joel brushed a finger over your throat, tapping the bulge protruding against your aching flesh. Eight and nine were a blur, your eyes barely staying open. Every flutter of your lashes garnered a dissatisfied tut from Joel, his body tense and throbbing with anger.

“Ten,” he sighed.

You tore away, coughing violently as you sucked in jagged breaths. Twisting your hands behind you, you squeezed your eyes shut to push the remainder of the tears down your cheeks. Joel wrapped a large hand around the base of his cock, stroking himself slowly and lazily.

“Stick out your tongue,” he ordered.

The words he said were far and few, which terrified you. Deep within yourself, you knew you had enraged him with your little act. It garnered no affection as you hoped, but he still gave you the attention you yearned for. Good or bad, you would take it. You would take anything he gave you.

A trail of saliva, salty and thick, dripped from the point of your tongue as you did what he instructed. Joel rested the velvety skin of his balls against your mouth, the weight of them heavy on your tongue. You didn’t need his commands as you slipped one of his balls into your mouth. Above you, Joel shuddered and clenched his fists at his side. You worshiped each with equal measure, alternating between gentle caresses of your tongue and sloppy suctions of your mouth.

“That’s it, little flower. Just like that,” Joel cooed.

A desperate moan left your lips as you lapped up the salty wetness covering his silken sack, swallowing down the remnants of your drool. Joel pumped himself faster, the sound of his jagged breathing mixing with the lewd noises of your mouth. His release was nearing; you could sense it in the way his thick thighs flexed around your face.

“Please,” you whined, your words muffled into the hair around his balls.

Joel’s hand slowed around his length, his thumb brushing over the slit as more precum leaked out. Staring up at him helplessly, you waited for his release to paint your tongue. He gave you a stern look, nodding toward the bed.

“Hands and knees. Now.”

“But—,” you protested.

Joel smoothed his palm over your cheek before pulling back and delivering a sharp smack against your face. You jerked at the sting of his touch radiating through the layers of your skin. He undoubtedly left behind a reddened mark across your cheek and jaw.

“You’ve already angered me once,” he warned. “Get on the fucking bed.”

Your knees scuffed against the ground as you scrambled onto the bed, situating yourself in the position he commanded. The unmistakable sound of the leather unsheathing from his pants ignited a new wave of fear through your body. Joel discarded it beside your face before coasting a hand down the center of your spine.

“I’ll give you another chance to explain yourself,” Joel said.

The bed dipped under his weight as he pressed a knee into the comforter beside you. You glanced over your shoulder, watching through teary eyes as Joel quickly unbuttoned his shirt. Dark chest hair scattered over his broad chest, spattered lower until it tapered into a thick trail down his pelvis. A thin sheen of sweat glistened over his golden skin as he discarded his shirt carelessly onto the ground. Careless…it wasn’t something you were used to with Joel.

“I just wanted your attention,” you muttered, your head hanging between your shoulders.

Joel tugged your braid, forcing your neck to crane backward. Despite the harshness of his words, his touch, his demeanor… your body throbbed with an unavoidable need. It throbbed at the apex of your sex, the lace rubbing against the slick that pooled between your thighs. Joel paid no attention to the way your legs shifted side to side, his unwavering stare penetrating you.

“Do I not give you enough attention?” He questioned.

“You do, sir,” you nodded, the strain on your neck growing uncomfortable.

“Perhaps you don’t deserve attention at all,” he mused.

He released his grip on your hair, your head falling forward and hanging low between your shoulders. Joel moved behind your body, his thick fingers tearing apart the lace hugging your ass. You yelped at the sheer force of it, the chill of the room skating up your bare sex. Joel’s fingertips traced over the back of your thigh, lingering close to the outline of your weeping pussy. Just one touch. That’s all you wanted—just one.

His touch disappeared, leaving you whining and frustrated. Joel huffed a laugh before bringing two fingers to your mouth.

“Suck. Get them nice and wet for me.”

You obliged, rolling your tongue over the thick digits as they pressed down into your mouth. He pulled them away, a web of drool connecting from the tip of your tongue to the pads of his fingers. Joel knocked your legs open further, and you waited in anticipation for his fingers to give you what you needed. Except, he didn’t.

A gasp left your lips as he pushed the calloused skin of his fingertips against the tight ring of muscles above your slit. With one hand gripping your ass, Joel spread you wider, humming at the sight of you fully exposed.

“Maybe you don’t deserve the attention you want. You’ll take what I give you, and you’ll thank me.”

“Please,” you whined.

“No,” he growled. “Desperate little sluts don’t get what they want.”

Joel’s finger dipped into your clenching hole, prodding you open despite your whines of protest. It wasn’t the first time he used this way, but it felt different. It wasn’t kind. It wasn’t meant to be focused on your pleasure. He was determined to prove a point, and you would comply because you were so greedy for anything he could give. He pressed the second finger to your hole, stretching you wider as he pushed them to his second knuckle. Wider and wider, he stretched you, uncomfortable but not unwelcomed.

“I see how wet you are, little flower. I know how greedy this pussy can get, but you know what? You don’t deserve it. This pussy doesn’t deserve my attention at all.”

“Sir!” You cried.

“You’re going to take my cock in your ass like the pathetic whore you are,” he growled.

Joel curled his fingers inside you, slipping them deeper until they were fully seated inside you. If you felt full now, it would be nothing compared to the way his cock would split you open. The sheer thought of it sent a shockwave to your clit, the aching bud pulsating painfully. Joel laughed at the way you squirmed underneath him, rewarding your cries with a jarring smack against your ass. Fuck, it hurt.

Tearing his fingers from you, Joel disappeared from the bed and riffled through his nightstand drawer. You heard the familiar sound of the lube squirting into his hand and the rough breath of Joel as he realigned himself with your loosened hole. The initial intrusion of his cock sparred stars into your vision, the tip of his cock tearing you open. Even in his angered haze, Joel was slow—careful.

“Breathe, little flower,” he urged.

You barely managed a full gulp of air before Joel bottomed out entirely. A scream erupted from your lips as you adjusted to his size, each inch of his length stuffed inside your tightening hole. Your body flexed and tensed under Joel’s touch, one hand pressing into your lower back, the other looping a finger through the plaits in your hair. Beneath him, you were helpless, entirely at his mercy for whatever he wanted.

With a slow retraction of his hips, Joel snapped his hips forward hard enough to send your upper body into the comforter. The rugged momentum of his thrusts tore you apart; piece by piece, Joel diminished you into nothing but a hole for his use.

“Greedy fucking whore,” Joel grunted, each thrust weighted and heavy inside you. “How’s it feel, huh? You love being used like this?”

“I love it, sir,” you cried.

Joel pulled out to the tip, a heavy breath expelling from your mouth. He ripped into you again, resolving you into a heap of tears and shallow whimpers. His finger in your intertwined hair tightened, pulling your neck back until you had no choice but to connect with his piercing stare. With blown pupils and curled lips, Joel was the epitome of carnal rage. You did this. You spurred him into this embodiment of anger.

“Is this enough for you, little flower?” He demanded.

Arousal dripped between your legs, the snap of his balls against your clit radiating pleasure through your body. You writhed under his hold, a pleading cry leaving your mouth as you stared at him helplessly. Usually reserved and stoic, Joel’s emotions washed over his features, speaking louder than his words. You didn’t just anger him; you hurt him. You questioned his role as a dominant, which was an unspeakable thing to do.

“Answer me!” He raged.

“It’s enough!” You sobbed.

Joel fucked you into abandon, your asshole sore and pained with every cantation of his hips. He was tearing you apart from the inside out, unrelenting and punishing. Your safe word balanced on the tip of your tongue, yet you withheld. You knew Joel would stop the moment you said the word, but you didn’t want him to. You wanted to prove you could be everything and more. You wanted to prove yourself until he wanted no other but you.

The pulse between your legs was unbearable. You were stretched out and gaping around his cock, void of any chance of release. Joel knew how your body responded; he was aware of how your hole contracted and flexed around him. Yet, he gave you nothing. He wouldn’t.

“Taking my cock so well, little flower,” he muttered between labored breaths. “Swallowing every inch of me.”

“Please, sir. Please, I want to cum,” you babbled.

The sting of his palm against your ass was his response to your pleas, a simple gesture to shut you up. You took it, though your body buzzed with pleasure in every limb.

“I know you do,” he crooned softly. “But you don’t get what you want. Only what I give you. So fucking take it.”

The world was caving around you, your vision blackening at the edges. Joel wound your braid over his fist and quickened his thrusts. Your body sagged into the bed, limp and pliant. Guttural sounds fell off Joel’s lips as he fucked you into the bed. Your ears deafened to the noise, your mouth hanging open and dripping spit into the soft bedspread beneath you. The erratic drive of his cock was the only warning you had to know he was close. Jagged, deep thrusts speared into you as Joel toppled over the edge with an animalist growl as he pumped his release into your fucked out hole. You twitched under his body, your knees slipping lower as your body gave out.

Despite the haze inside your mind, your lips tipped up into a satisfied grin. He used your body just as he wanted, and you proved fealty to him—ardent, unwavering submission to the one man who wove his way into your heart.

Joel pulled himself from you, slow and gentle, until the roll of his release was falling between your slit. You clenched around nothing, the tight ring of muscles aching painfully. He reached up to undo the silk bow holding your braid together, his fingers working through the soft waves as they floated over your back.

“Little flower,” he whispered, kissing your sweat-coated spine.

You flinched at his touch, not out of fear but of shock that still radiated through your muscles. You hadn’t fully returned to your mind, and Joel took notice. Working you onto your back, he roamed a hand over your breasts; his hand pressed firmly against the thrumming pulse of your heart. You stared up at him blankly, the tears now dried against your cheeks. What had been the face of cruelty only moments ago had now morphed into the soft, longing gaze you always yearned for. Joel’s pupils had returned to normal, the flecks of amber and rich chocolate boring into you with a look of concern.

“Thank you, sir,” you whispered.

He bent over you, pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead. Your eyes fluttered close, relishing in the softness of his lips on your skin. You wanted this. You ached for it fiercely but could not form the words to beg for it.

“Stay here a moment,” he said.

You lay against the bed, your limbs twitching as you rolled onto your side. Curling into yourself, you fought off the tremors still wracking through your muscles, a steady pulse rhythmically beating within your clit. Joel denied you your orgasm, which he never did. It was your punishment for wanting too much—a miscalculated attempt at proving your worth.

The sound of running water drifted from the bathroom, followed by Joel’s heavy footsteps nearing the bed. With a quick unclasping of your bustier and a firm hand under your knees, Joel lifted you from the bed. You became weightless in his arms, cradling you to his sweaty chest. Wrapping a shaky arm around his shoulders, you rested your head inside the crook of his neck and exhaled an exhausted sigh.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he said softly.

The pungent aroma of lavender and vanilla tinged your nose as Joel guided you into the bathtub. Immediately, your muscles unwound in their tension, a relieving groan expelling from your lips. The heat of the water soothed your tender flesh, the bubbles running over your bare skin in small clusters. Joel was dedicated to aftercare, especially after rougher sessions with you. This was no different. He always remained beside the bathtub, soothing you with praise as you tipped further into its warmth.

You blinked up at him, giving him a tired smile. He gave you a silent nod, then motioned for you to slide forward. He never bathed with you. It wasn’t a rule, per se, but he never granted it to you. This was different—foreign.

You slid your body as far as it could go, your knees pressed to your chest as Joel dipped into the water behind you. Hooking a strong arm around your abdomen, he pulled you flush with his body and dropped his mouth below the shell of your ear.

“You chose to anger me today,” he muttered. “I need the honest truth as to why you did it.”

You twisted your face around to meet his steady gaze, your bottom lip quivering while you debated if the truth was worth voicing.

“I wanted you to be possessive,” you admitted. “I wanted to know if you cared for me the way I care for you.”

Joel’s eyebrows raised slightly, the words shocking him.

“Of course, I care for you. Do I not show it well enough?”

“No—no, you do, sir. I just…I want to be the only one you care for.”

“You have been, little flower. There’s been no one else the entire time you’ve been with me,” he insisted.

You turned your body around, your knees bruising against the tile as you cupped his face. Never had you been so vulnerable with Joel, but you needed him to see your desperation. You needed him to see how committed you were to your role in his life.

“I want to be the only one,” you repeated. “I don’t want you to have another.”

Joel’s hands rested at the curve between your waist and hips, prodding your flesh soothingly.

“Is that what you want, little flower?” He questioned.

“It doesn’t matter what I want, sir. What matters is if it’s what you want.”

He pressed his forehead to yours, creases forming near his temple as he shut his eyes. Silence fell between you, so loud it fractured your heart. No answer was an answer. You failed in your attempts to prove yourself. You failed to make him want you more. He didn’t want you, no matter—.

“My sweet, little flower,” he sighed.

Fresh tears slipped down your cheek, and you made no effort to swat them away. It was useless when you knew you lost the one thing you wanted the most. Joel brushed his lips against yours, and you let a muffled cry escape.

“Rules can be rectified,” he started. “If this is something you wish, I’ll happily oblige.”

“Really?” You asked, pulling away.

You studied him for any sign of doubt, any stolen glance that may prove his words a lie. But he looked at you with complete devotion, irrevocable certainty.

“I want you just as badly. All you had to do was ask. There was no need for defiance or jealousy.”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“I think you’ve proven yourself more than enough today, little flower. Turn around so I can care for you properly.”

You slipped back into his warm embrace, your legs widening and pressed against his. Joel smoothed a hand down your stomach, his fingers tracing the swollen lips of your sex. You bucked into his hand, chasing the orgasm that still swam within your stomach. He drew slow, tantalizing circles over your soddened clit, muttering soft words into your ear.

“Such a good girl,” he cooed. “I know what you need. I’ll take care of you.”

“Yes—yes,” you panted, arching into his touch.

The pad of his finger pressed into the throbbing bud, the surging pleasure inside you growing agonizing. Bathwater sloshed around your body is rivulets, the push and pull of the waves crashing into the space where your skin didn’t touch. Closer and closer, he drove you to the edge until a delicious rapture tore through your body. Every muscle beneath your balmy skin seized upwards, a wail of relief echoing around the empty bathroom as you caved into your climax.

“That’s it, little flower. So beautiful when you come undone for me,” Joel mumbled into your ear, his teeth nipping at the lobe.

Shockwaves trembled over you as you slumped against his solid frame, your head falling back onto his shoulder. You had what you wanted. Body and soul, Joel granted your wish. Ecstasy wasn’t a strong enough word to describe the swelling inside your chest.

“Stay with me. More than just the weekends. I’ll have your things brought here, and you can stay permanently,” Joel offered. “This house is rather lonely without you in it, anyway.”

“Okay,” you submitted, a grin stretching across your face.

He was yours.

#joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #dom!joel miller #sub!f!reader #dom/sub #joel miller x you #tlou fanfic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut

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princessofmarvel · 1 year

Text

Business and dates

summary | when grace leaves, it leaves the shelbys with a heartbroken thomas. polly takes this as an opportunity to get him with the girl she's always wanted him with

pairing | thomas shelby x fem!reader

word count | 2.30k

genre | fluff! with just a tad of angst!

requested? | yes! thank you so much for your request! i had so much writing it, and i am kind of proud of this one, lol.

warnings! | mentions of bullying, and the reader not eating from being worried! and, i have not proof read this yet!

author’s note! | Hi! Thank you all for being so patient as I worked on this! Requests are open for drabbles, and headcanons only at the moment for these characters! And as always, I do I have really bad OCD that causes me to write in some random capitalization, and punctuation, But I think that we don't have to worry about that in this fic lol. And let me know if there are any mistakes, but please be kind!

No one knew what had happened that day. All anyone knew was that Grace was suddenly gone, and that she had left the Shelby family with a heartbroken Thomas. And the person left to pick up the pieces was his lifelong best friend, who has been in love with Thomas since the day they met back when they were just small kids.

Thomas was having a decent day, school had just let out and he was walking back home (alone because his older brother Aurther thought that it would be funny to run off before Thomas got out of class) when he saw a young girl getting picked on.

“Stop it! This is my favorite skirt!” Thomas heard her yell to the kids that had her on the ground, kicking dirt onto her clothes while laughing and taunting her. Thomas knew that these kids were practically afraid of him, so he knew he could get them to leave the girl alone. He also knew that his mother would scold him if she found out that he didn’t do anything to help her.

“Oi! Leave her alone, or I'll put a curse on you!” Thomas called out as he made his way up to the group, and pulled a razor blade out of his pocket. The kids practically scattered the moment they heard Thomas’ voice. Leaving just him, and the girl with dirt on her clothes.

“Thank you” He heard the girl say in a quiet voice as he put his hand out to help her back up.

“What caused that?” He asked, curious as to what the girl could have done to anger the other kids so much.

“I-I told them that I wouldn’t do their homework.” She said back to him, as she tried to get the dirt off of her skirt. Thomas told himself that he should have known it was something like that. There wasn’t anything serious that this girl could have done to upset them so much.

“Come on, I’ll walk you home, you live on Watery lane, right?” He said as he started walking, with the girl running a bit to catch up with him. He knew her name, he recognized her from school. She lived right across from him, but they never said anything to each other. She had been over to play with Ada sometimes, but they never spoke.

Neither one of them said anything as they walked, it wasn’t until they got to her home that Thomas spoke up.

“They shouldn’t bother you again, no one should.” He said as he stood outside her doorstep, seeming almost sorry since he knew his reputation, and how kids would stay away from him in fear of getting cursed.

“It’s alright, I don’t really have any friends anyways.” The small girl said, while rocking back and forth on her heels.

“Why don’t you come play at my house? I know my family won’t mind.” He said to her with a small smile. Truth be told, Thomas didn’t really have many friends either, and he saw an opportunity to make one.

Ever since then, the two were inseparable. They did everything together, they were even each other's first kiss. Her family was weary at first, but soon saw how protective the Shelby boys (and the rest of the Shelby family) were over her, and grew to like them. The two were like this up until Thomas was called to war

“Tommy, this has to be a mistake.” The girl cried into Thomas’ shoulder as he held her. “All three of you at the same time? What kind of cruel joke is this”

“The universe has a funny way of doing things.” He mumbled into her hair, his hand resting on the back of her head. “I’ll come back, sweetheart.”

“You don’t know that, Tommy” The girl said as she pulled her head out of his shoulder, and looked up at him, eyes red and puffy.

“You really think I'm leaving you yet? You think I'm going to leave you before you get married? Please, your future husband doesn’t get off that easily.” He said with a small laugh while trying to lighten the mood as he held her face with his hand. “Nothings taking me from you, not yet.”

“You better come back, Shelby.” She said as she looked up at him with glossy eyes. “Or, I’ll bring you back just to kill you myself.”

Thomas laughed and kissed her head, as the air in the room changed. He didn’t know why, but he leaned down and kissed her lips softly, all he knew was that he couldn’t leave without giving her a kiss, even just a light one. “You’ve got nothing to worry about” He said as he pulled away.

She believed him, she tried not to worry. She didn’t worry until his letters stopped coming. After a month of not hearing from him she worried so much she got sick. She wrote him everyday, sent him a letter at least once a week, if not twice. No word of his death ever came.

The day Thomas arrived home, she was sitting at the kitchen table with Polly. His heart broke when he saw her, she was paler, and her face was skinny, all signs to her not eating properly. Neither one of them said a word to each other for a week. It wasn’t until (Y/n) decided that she had enough, and stormed into his room.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” she shouted, growing red in the face.

“What are you talking about?” He asked, not meeting her eyes, already knowing what she was talking about,

“You! You come back, and are completely different! You’re cold, and mean to everyone, which maybe you were that way to some people before, but never to me! Never to your family!” As she yelled at him, she started to sway as if she was about to faint. Before she could hit the floor, Thomas grabbed her and set her down on the bed beside him.

“You need to eat something.” He mumbled, not looking at her which infuriated her more.

“I thought you were dead.” This caught his attention as he heard her start to cry. He finally turned to her. “You stopped writing.”

“I didn’t know how to write to you, you would ask me how I was, and I couldn’t find it in myself to tell you about how I had just watched a man die. I thought it better to not write.” He said, pulling her into his chest. “Why are you not eating?”

“You worried me, anything I ate just came back up.” She mumbled into his chest.

“I told you not to worry.” He said with a small laugh coming from his chest, the first in a long time.

“Tough shit, Shelby.” She mumbled back, while pulling her head out of his chest.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, just staring at the other, until Thomas finally spoke up. “I’m trying to get back to normal.” He mumbled, barely loud enough for her to hear, she wouldn’t have if they hadn’t been so close.

“I know, it will just take some time.” She said while she caressed his cheek. “And, I’ll be here to help you heal.”

After that day, nothing ever really went back to how it was before the war. But it was like that for everyone. Thomas had gone back to normal as much as he could. He had his moments, but everyone did. And, (Y/n) didn’t lie, she was there every step of the way, even in the bad times she never left.

The two never fought again until the day Grace left. She had tried telling Thomas before that something was up with her, but he just wouldn’t listen. The only other person that seemed to notice it was Polly.

“He’ll never go for it.” John pipped into the conversation. Polly was currently trying to figure out a way to cheer Thomas up, and the idea she had was to put Thomas with (Y/n). She already considered the girl a daughter, and she always wanted her with Thomas. To her, it was the perfect plan.

“That's why we don’t tell him! All we tell him is that he has a business meeting at the new restaurant, he’ll show up, expecting some business man to be there, but instead (Y/n) will come in wearing the most beautiful thing I can find, that he’ll just have to stay.” Polly explained to the boys and Ada.

“Alright, but how are you going to get (Y/n) there, dressed up, without suspecting anything?” Ada chimed in.

“We’ll tell her a boy stopped by and asked to take her out.” Polly said, as if it was obvious.

“Please, she’s not going to just agree to go out with someone, especially if she doesn’t even know who it is.” Arthur muttered.

"Actually she might.” John announced to everyone. “Just to make Thomas jealous, she mentioned it back when Grace was around.”

The Shelby’s set everything into motion that night. Polly told Thomas he had a meeting, then she told (Y/n) about the secret man that wanted to take her out.

So Thomas sat in his suit, waiting for this man to show, when he saw (Y/n) walk through the door, dressed like a vision in her red, drop waist, beaded dress, with an old pearl necklace to match. She looked around the room, until her eyes landed on Thomas.

“What are you doing here?” She asked him, as she walked up to his table.

“Business meeting, what are you doing here?” He asked, suddenly growing jealous at the thought of her being here for another man.

“A date, and what business meeting? I know your schedule, there wasn’t one planned, did you make one?” She asked, wondering who on earth Thomas could be meeting for business at this hour.

“No, Polly told me I had one, who’s the date?” He asked, his jealousy rising.

“Not sure, Polly told me-” A look of realization crossed both their faces “Polly” The two said in unison.

She decided to sit down, now laughing to herself. “You’re the date.”

“You’re the business.” Thomas responded, a small smile growing to his face.

The two sat there for a minute, before Thomas spoke up. “You do look stunning.”

“Polly picked it.” She said, with a small laugh.

“I bet she did.” Thomas said with a laugh, and a sigh. “She’s wanted us together for ages.” He mumbled.

“And what do you want?” The girl asked. Thomas had always had a feeling that (Y/n) liked him, he was just never sure how much, until he looked up and met her eyes that were filled with nothing but love and want.

“You in my life.” He said, keeping his eyes on her. “I thought a relationship between us would mess everything up. I couldn’t risk losing you.”

“Thomas.” The girl said, grabbing his hand across the table. “You could never lose me, even if we did have a relationship and it failed, I would still love you. But, I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this.”

“I have distracted myself from you for as long as I can remember. I wouldn’t let myself fall for you.” Thomas said, standing up from the table, (Y/n) following.

“It’s okay to fall, Thomas, who knows, maybe it won’t hurt.” She said, as she placed a hand to his face. Without thinking, Thomas leaned in and kissed her with everything in him, causing her to hit the table, his hands on the side of her face being the only thing to keep them from falling. The pair kissed until they needed air. When they pulled away, he rested his forehead on hers.

“Let’s give this a try.” He whispered, looking into her eyes.

The girl smiled and gave Thomas a quick peck, before they left the restaurant, her holding his arm. The walk back to the Shelby home was mostly quiet, until she spoke up. “Thank god for Polly.”

#thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine #tommy shelby #tommy shelby imagine #cillian murphy #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby fic #tommy shleby fic #thomas shelby fanfic #tommy shelby fanfic #thomas shelby fluff #tommy shelby fluff #thomas shelby angst #tommy shelby angst #thomas shelby peaky blinders #tommy shelby peaky blinders #peaky blinders

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bumblebeesfromvenus · 7 months

Text

Here are some German specific quirks I think König would have <3

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

(yes, I know he's Austrian, but the difference is really only that they talk funny and have better desserts)

♡ he HATES fans and air conditioning. Like I'm talking disdain from the deepest pits of hell kinda hate.

Ceiling fans and AC are not a thing here, and literally every German looks at it with a very disapproving look if there happens to be one somewhere.

König absolutely refuses to sleep with the fan or AC on, just open a window, Liebling!

He's so upset that he can't put the window "auf kipp" :( (pls Google it, it's so hard to explain lol) like he's crushed that he can't keep the windows "auf kipp" all day.

You have a ceiling fan? Nope, not anymore. That thing is getting taken down the minute you move in together. But if you insist on keeping it, he'll secretly cut the cable to the switch.

Everyone knows all they do is whirl around dust and make you sick! He's not having it.

König acts like artificial ventilation is his worst enemy (I agree with him) and he'd rather suffocate than turn on the goddamn AC.

♡ Sundays are strictly lazy/rest days. Nothing's open on Sundays here, so we're forced to relax and not run around like headless chickens trying to get things done.

He's absolutely baffled if you have plans to go somewhere on a Sunday. What do you mean you need to run errands? What do you mean you're going out? And if you want him to come along?? Yeah, no.

His brain stops working. After the many years he's been alive, not once has he gone somewhere on a Sunday that wasn't his Oma's house for Kaffee und Kuchen.

You're not going anywhere. Plans are canceled, and you better spend the day on the couch with him.

♡ König probably misses all the beautiful old architecture Vienna has to offer. You don't quite appreciate it as much when it's just there all the time, but now he wishes he could quietly people watch in the city center :(

In my mind he's a bit of a history nerd, so he probably frequented museums and castles, admiring the delicately sculpted ceilings and wondering how people lived back then.

He'd be most fascinated by the masonry work done on the outside of most buildings. I mean, that's stone, but it's so smooth and carefully crafted.

♡ there are some very weird sayings in German that you just can't translate because they don't make sense. König is sick of having to awkwardly try to explain what they mean after he's been caught muttering one under his breath, only to realize halfway through that he looks like a maniac.

German is a very literal language, and I think he misses speaking it. We have very specific words for some things and he probably struggles to talk in English sometimes purely because the words he wants to use just don't exist.

(I'm very upset they didn't give him an Austrian accent bc it's one of my favorites, but I can also confidently say that I think he wouldn't be taken seriously at all if he had one lmao)

♡ König goes on random ass walks sometimes. Where's he going? On a walk. No, like where is he going? HE'S GOING ON A WALK.

There's no destination, you just walk. No matter the weather. Ya walk until you feel like you've walked enough. (A very German experience and I hate it)

♡ dreams of his Oma's Kaiserschmarn (me too, König, me too.)

It's basically a giant pancake that you tear into little pieces (traditionally, it has raisins too, I think) and you eat with either cinnamon sugar or applesauce (or both) and you will drift up to heaven.

It's warm, it's fluffy, it's sweet;

It's perfect for a gloomy Friday afternoon spent with his Oma and Opa 🥺

(Can you tell that I'm projecting)

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

"Auf kipp" is a very specific window position where only the bottom two hinges stay attached so you can tilt the window towards you and a little crack is open so you can always have fresh air!

"Oma und Opa" grandma and grandpa, which he loves so much, undoubtedly.

"Kaffe und Kuchen" basically tea time. You get together and eat cake and have coffee! Mostly on the weekends :)

"Kaiserschmarn" what dreams are made of.

🩷

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sunrizef1 · 27 days

Text

big reputation pt 3

Pairing: Logan Sargeant x fem!reader

Warnings: Kelly piquet? Slight violence, canon divergent (Logan has a seat lmfao)

Authors Note: from now on every fic I post will be considered a period piece because I am NOT taking Logan out of that seat.

Pt1 Pt2

yourusername

📍Cardiff, Wales

liked by lewishamilton formulaone and 25,888,007 others

yourusername Cardiff, you were wonderful!!!!! We had never played a show in Wales before but we will definitely be back again! We all had a great time ✨ Thank you so much for coming out and having the night of your lives with me, I'm so grateful for every single one of you! 🖤 I’ll see you soon, Edinburgh…📸

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user1 I love you queen

user2 guys… I miss the drivers

user3 they miss one show like every two weeks and y'all say this every time 😭😭😭

user3 and they'll probably be back next week in Hungary anyway! 😭

user2 but that's like only one or two drivers or just their girlfriends or just f1-related people, its not the same 😭 I need them all together again 😭🙏

user4 my show 🥰

user5 we need more shows in wales…

yourusername ...✌️

user5 TWO??? AS IN LEG 2??? MORE CARDIFF SHOWS NEXT YEAR???

user6 RATATATATATATATATATATATA

user7 the camera emoji after Edinburgh??? And the dots?? …Ready for it? Music video announcement in Edinburgh???

charles_leclerc ✨🖤

liked by yourusername

user8 Logan going out of his way to make it to Cardiff... Not beating the boyfriend allegations

user9 THIS WAS MY SHOWWWWW

fernandoaloofficial Very good!!! 👍 🖤

yourusername thank you, Nando 🫶🏻

user10 🐍🐍🐍

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yourusername added to their story

oscarpiastri

damn he really is down bad

I'm assuming you mentioned the flowers once and he immediately bought them for you?

yourusername

That would be correct, yes

oscarpiastri

thought so 🙂‍↕️

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yourusername

📍Antwerp, Belgium

liked by landonorris killatrav and 15,888,777 others

yourusername Antwerp!!! This was one of the greatest shows of my life, the crowd was absolutely electric!!! We also got a rain show, which are always my favorites ☔ We also introduced my new favourite idea, mashing-up surprise songs, which is something I am so excited to continue and you all seemed very excited so I am thrilled!! 🫶

Next up, Amsterdam ☝️ 🇳🇱🇳🇱

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user11 WOOOOOOO

user12 I was there 🙂‍↕️🙏

landonorris ✨

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user13 guyssss I got mine x stay stay stay!!!! We won! 🥰

user14 I 🫶 rain shows

user15 guys notice how there's three exclamation marks… twice… 3… 3… 33… max’s old number… and then the ☝️ emoji… its a 1… max’s current number… Netherlands is next… she uses two exclamation marks at the end… two Dutch flags… Logans number is two…

user16 are you mentally okay

user15 no

user17 no drivers… what if I kms

user18 but we got the wags!!! 🥰

user17 and if I said y/n was the one true wag

user17 what then

user18 you would be correct 🙂‍↕️ 2️⃣🇺🇸

user19 wait the surprise song thing is so cute!!!!

user20 she's so prettyyyyy

lilymhe 💋💋💋

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user21 I was here!!! When I tell you everyone gasped so hard when she started singing stay stay stay in the middle of mine, we were all screaming!!!

user22 LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DO

alexandrasaintmleux ❤️

yourusername ❤️

user23 girl I did not know mash-ups were an option 😭

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alexandrasaintmleux

The best trio 🥰

yourusername

Correct 🤭🙂‍↕️

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lilymhe

I'm so glad you're here 😭😭😭

yourusername

Me too 😭😭😭

lilymhe

I need you back in Williams ☹️

yourusername

Soon…🤭

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INSTAGRAM

yourusername added to their story

logansargeant

Repping Ferrari today….

Betrayal doesnt look cute on you

yourusername

you'll be okay darling 💋

logansargeant

No ☹️

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yourusername added to their story

fernandoalo_official

Stay safe mija

you're going behind enemy lines

yourusername

Lol, thanks Nando

I'll be safe

fernandoalo_official

Just look out for anyone in orange….

They're a suspicious bunch

yourusername

I will 🫡

fernandoalo_official

Good 👍

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MESSAGES

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

yourusername

📍Amsterdam, Netherlands

liked by alex_albon alexandrasaintmleux and 21,008,008 others

yourusername Amsterdam, you were so lovely!!! I'll admit I was a little nervous for these two shows but you all showed me so much kindness and these crowds will definitely go down as two of my favourites of all time 🫶 I had a really great time and I really felt so connected to every person in that stadium, I can't thank you enough for everything 🤍

But these shows made me realize how much we've grown this past year. Reputation was such a scary project for me and the reception from you all was so much better than I expected. Its been a year of love and I'm so thankful that you've stuck by me, you don't know how much it means 🤍🫶

So thank you to the drivers, to my friends and family, to the crew, to Jack, to Lewis, Charles and Logan and, most of all, to you, the fans. I love you 🤍

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user24 wait night one was wild

user25 as someone who was night one, the atmosphere when people found max was crazy 😭😭😭 so much yelling 😭

user26 RIGHT like I was upper bowl and had no idea what everyone was yelling about 😭

user27 IS THAT LAST PICTURE HER BF

user27 FOLLOW UP QUESTION: IS THAT LOGAN

user28 LMAO the middle finger in the last picture, she really hates max 😭

user29 why did she talk about love so much during the show and then in the caption…

user30 conspiracy theory: its their anniversary

lilymhe 💋💋💋

liked by yourusername

user31 that second pic is so cute 🥹

lewishamilton thanks for the shoutout 😎

yourusername thank YOU for everything lew 🤍

user32 out of all the drivers she chose to name three specifically: Lewis (who featured on the album and also has producer credits), Charles (who featured and has all the piano credits), and Logan, (who…. Was the muse for the album???)🫣

user33 wait why is no one talking about how crazy the max thing is

user34 yeah every ones talking about Logan but the m*x appearance is actually insane behaviour

user35 girl I read jack and fully thought she meant doohan 😭

user36 WAIT who did she mean??? I also thought she meant doohan 😭😭😭

user35 jack antonoff girl 😭

fernandoalo_official proud of you mija ❤️

yourusername thank you Nando 🤍

user36 I adore them 😭

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yourusername

📍Las Vegas, Nevadaa

liked by logansargeant charles_leclerc and 32,008,998 others

yourusername about a year and a half ago, I thought my life was over. I was betrayed by the very same people I thought were my forever.

But, after months of hiding, I ran into you at a dive bar deep in the city of Miami and suddenly my forever was you. You were in your buzzcut phase and I had just bleached my hair. You recognized me, of course. We'd met a couple of times and I'd always thought kindly of you. We started to talk and hours passed without us even noticing. I'm not sure where your friends had gone but looking back at it now, I'm glad they left because I can't imagine the conversation we had being joined by other people. It was already vaguely awkward enough.

I wasn't exactly lighting up the room that night. It had been a rough couple of months and I'd only gone out in hopes of finding a sliver of happiness. Thank god I did because it brought me to now, where I'm the happiest I've ever been. It brought me to you.

You, my love, are so wonderful and beautiful and talented and I honestly can't believe you're mine. Thank you so much for sticking beside me and becoming my forever muse. I could go on and on about the lyrics I've written about you but I think I'll just keep that for the next album 🫣

We went from hiding out in hotel rooms, curtains drawn tightly so paparazzi couldn't see and taking back roads to the studio to avoid anyone who might recognize us to you coming to every single show and me getting to sing to you and every single night.

From the new years parties in New York to the bouquets in Dublin and to the rings in Las Vegas 💍, I love you forever, Lo 🤍

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user37 AWWWWWWWWWW

user38 THIS IS INSANEEEEE

user39 the hardest of hard launches!!! 🥰

user40 WAIT WHAT

lilymhe congratulations love! No one deserves this happiness more than you 🤍🥰

yourusername lilyyyy 🥹🫶

user41 IM SOBBING MY PARENTSSSSSS

user42 THE CLIP OF CHARLES CRYING AFTER SHE SHOWS THE RING?????? MEEEEE

charles_leclerc congrats ange, so happy for you ❤️

yourusername forever grateful for your super secret spy work last year, none of this could’ve happened without you 🤍

charles_leclerc 🫡

user42 OHHHHH Charles was digging for info on max that’s why he was friends with him last year 😭

lancestroll 🥳🥳🥳

liked by yourusername

user43 this is adorable 🥹

alexandrasaintmleux me and Lily are planning the bachelorette party as we speak 🥳🎉

yourusername as long as you guys are there it will be perfect 🥹🤍

user44 AWWWWWWW OMG

carlossainz congrats!! 😎💍

liked by yourusername

landonorris LETS GOOOOO

liked by yourusername

oscarpiastri now that you're engaged I can finally yell you that he's legit had a crush on you for years. I couldnt get away from the sound of him playing Fearless over and over and over again

yourusername he's adorable. And it sounds like you're… complaining????

oscarpiastri nope ofc not, fearless is great, aoty for a reason, best country album of all time, I'd never complain 🙂‍↔️🫡

yourusername thanks osc 🤍

alex_albon did u like ur proposal…? 😽

yourusername I've been informed of your involvement and am pleased to tell you that the proposal was wonderful. Thank you Alex 🫶

alex_albon well flowers can't arrange themselves 🫡 congrats y/n

alex_albon we’re grateful to have you in the Williams family 🤍

user45 my forever muse 😭

user46 the parallels between this caption and the five year one for m*x 😭

logansargeant you’re the love of my life and I’m so grateful for the time we’ve had together 🤍 I love you so much darling and I’m so proud to get the honor of calling you my wife 🤍🤍🤍 😊

yourusername love you lo 🤍🥹

user47 oh my god they’re so in love, I’m so happy that y/n got to have this relationship after everything with max 🥹🤍

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logansargeant added to their story

yourusername

My forever boy 💍

logansargeant

I love you baby 🤍😊

yourusername

I love you too 🤍🥹

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#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #logan sargeant x you #logan sargent x reader #logan sargeant fluff #logan sargeant fanfic #logan sargent x fem!reader #logan sargeant x fem!reader #logan sargeant smau #logan sargent fluff #logan sargeant x reader #f1 x fem!reader #f1 smau

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reysdriver · 27 days

Note

i need more dad James 🫣🫣🫣🫣

James comes home from a trip to the farm supply store with a wild surprise — dad!farmer!james x mom!reader fluff

warnings: a little bit of fighting but it's absolutely not angsty, some parental nervousness ig

words: 1.3k

a/n: I need more of him too lol (I'm gonna use this ask to test out my new au tho so I hope you're ok with that <3)

James came home right when you were starting to prepare dinner, much to the joy of you and both your children. You scooped up your baby girl from her play mat on the ground, then right on cue, your toddler showed up at your side, rushing to the front door with you.

“I guess you heard the door too, Haz?” You asked your son, holding out your hand for him to take.

As he looked up at you and nodded, he took your free hand so that the three of you were all going together to see James.

Once you saw your husband at the door, all you felt were the butterflies in your stomach that still hadn’t flown away even after all these years. But then, you noticed how he was leaving very little space between him and the door as he closed it, and how he was covered in little strands of fur even though he was just running a few quick errands.

Before you could even ask him about it, he wrapped his strong arm around your waist and pressed his lips against yours. It took you a bit of time to register what was even happening, but as soon as you started to melt into the kiss, James pulled away and flashed you a sweet smile.

He then bent down to greet both Ivy on your hip and Harry standing beside you.

“I have a surprise for you and the kids.” James said, mostly excited with a hint of guilt.

You raised an eyebrow at your husband. “What are you talking about?”

He shrugged and touched the door handle, ready to open it. “I can’t really tell you. It’s better if I show you.”

He opened the front door to reveal a ridiculously small horse standing fifteen feet away from you and tied up to the bannister outside.

It was half your size and incredibly fluffy. You had to resist going over to pet it just because you were so in shock at the fact that your husband came home from the farm supply store and surprised you with a whole horse—or maybe just a third of a horse, based on its size.

A thousand and one thoughts raced through your head but before you could make sense of any of them, Harry giggled loudly and began to run towards the horse in front of you all.

Panicking, you called your son back and walked him back to the porch. You used your free hand to hold him tightly against your thigh so he wouldn’t run back the animal James just surprised you with.

“You bought a pony on a whim?” You asked your husband.

“No, of course not.” He shook his head. “She’s a miniature horse. They’re totally different. The guy I bought it from told me all about them!”

Of course. Now that the horse’s title is settled, everything is fine.

“James, we need to speak in private. Stay here.”

His face flushed. He knew you were mad because you almost never called him by anything other than your various pet names for him unless you were upset.

You then ushered Harry back inside the house to the living room, where you set Ivy back down on her play mat.

“Play with your sister for a minute, Haz. If she gets fussy at all, you can come get me outside, okay?”

He smiled and nodded, sitting down next to the one year-old. “Can we play with the pony soon?”

You exhaled, unsure of how to respond. “Your dad says it’s a miniature horse, not a pony. And maybe, if you’re good.”

The boy seemed satisfied with that, so you pressed a kiss to the top of his head and walked back outside, where you found your husband looking extremely guilty as he awaited your return.

Once you closed the door behind you, he immediately tried to make the situation better.

“Lovie, I knew you’d be reluctant about all of this, but I swear I can explain—”

“You bought a horse, James! You were only supposed to be going out for a new shovel and some paint, then you come back with a horse?!”

“Well, I got the other stuff, too, it’s just in the truck. I just got to talking with a man at the supply store and he said he was selling some of those cuties right out of his horse trailer in the parking lot.”

You sighed and crossed your arms. “How much did it cost?”

“Not much at all! The guy was selling them for bottom dollar ‘cause he’s moving soon and needs ‘em gone!” James rested his hand on your upper arm and stroked lightly. His voice softened, and so did his expression. “Believe me, I wouldn’t have bought her if we couldn’t afford her. I’m always thinking about our family.”

You were trying real hard not to look into your husband’s pretty eyes because you knew the second you did, you would have no choice but to give in. You stared at the porch swing, the miniature horse, the chicken coop, anything but James.

And he could clearly tell you weren’t convinced just yet, so he kept going.

“Look, I know we got rid of most of the animals before Harry was born, but those were the more unstable ones, and that was back when we were nervous about everything. Now we’re more experienced, and she’s just the sweetest thing.”

You exhaled, peeking through the window to check on Harry and Ivy playing on the living room carpet.

“They’re just babies, Jamie.”

He bit back a smile at the use of his nickname, letting him know you were warming up to the idea.

“Harry’s already three, love.” He removed his hand from your arm and gestured at himself. “I was just barely older than him when I started riding the real horses, and now look at me!”

He smiled and posed with open arms, which in turn made you smile.

“I love looking at you.” You said sincerely. “You’re the best.”

“Your words, not mine.”

You giggled, then pulled him in for a kiss. And not just one to distract like when he first came home. A real kiss, and a good one too.

When you pulled away, you left your hands where they were and caressed softly.

“Next time you want to do something extravagant for the kids like this, talk to me about it first, okay? If you kiss me enough, I’ll say yes to anything.”

James raised an eyebrow, insinuating things that made you glad the kids were inside.

Your jaw dropped in mock stun. “Not like that, Jamie! What do you take me for?!”

The two of you both laughed, and he pulled you in for a sweet hug. “My wife, the mother of my incredible kids, the love of my life. I could go on.”

You would have claimed he was just flattering you as an apology for buying the horse, but you had already told him he could keep it. Plus, he says things like that far more than he had ever bought something crazy and needed forgiveness.

“So I can go introduce the kids to the horse for real now?”

Your gaze moved over to the animal a few feet away from you, and you nodded as a response to your husband’s question.

“As long as you have a saddle for that thing.”

He grinned, then kissed your nose quickly before darting away. “Thank you! It’s in the truck! I love you!”

You laughed to yourself, and shook your head amusedly while you walked towards the miniature horse that you now owned.

“Hi there, sweetheart.” You greeted, brushing her mane with your fingers. “Welcome to the family. James there can be a bit daft, but I think you’ll like it here.”

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x wife!reader #dad!james potter #dad!james potter x reader #dad!farmer!james potter #farmer!james potter #farmer!james potter x reader #james potter fluff #marauders era #marauders au #marauders fanfiction #dad!marauders #harry potter

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c0llisiion · 2 months

Text

NEED TO KNOW.02 — J.JK

Pairing: jeon jungkook + f!reader

Genre: smut

★: npr, slight angst, dadsbsf!jk x reader, older!jk, slight degradation, mentions of cheating, praise, dumbification, unprotected sex (practice safe sex plzzz), cunnilingus, slight bondage? Idk lol , rough sex, crying, breeding — lmk if i missed any!

W/C: 3,175

A/N: HIIIII ITS FINALLY HERE YALL WTFFFFFFF 😭😭😭😭 i defo spent too much time on this ( soz i have been very busy ) THIS ONES FOR ALL THE POOKS THAT HAVE BEEN ASKING FOR PART 2 <33 NJOYYY

.01 <3

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ This is strictly fiction. Any scenario or situation should not be taken seriously. Please refrain from reading if the topics make you uncomfortable. ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

The tension was there. A very thick tension. You stared daggers at the man sitting in front of you. He was being nonchalant. Giggling and laughing with your dad and acting like nothing had happened between you two.

Things were going well between you guys since ‘that’ day. You told him about your undying feelings for him, and he understood it. He had you wrapped around his arms as you rested your head on his shoulders and sat together in the warm bath water with Your back pressed against his chest. Even though the moment lasted for a short while, you still savored it. His warm breath was on your face, whispering sweet nothings that had made your cheeks flush. His soft heartbeat matched yours. He was so gentle with the aftercare. Had you propped up on the bathroom counter while he ran a warm washcloth down your sticky body, making sure to be gentle. He even washed you down with your favorite body wash. Hands gently ran water down your sweaty hair, making sure you were clean and ready before he left, and since then you have been dating him. Or so you would think.

It was a huge decision. This could affect both of your lives negatively if things go wrong. Of course, you didn’t tell your father about it. Imagine the betrayal he would feel if he found out his daughter was sleeping around with his best friend under his roof. In no way, shape, or form could he know. For the time being, He would eventually come to know, right?

Jungkook was always the ‘nonchalant’ type. He was very laid-back about you. There was not really a label to your relationship. He would treat you like his girlfriend, yes, but he would never outright tell you that you were his girlfriend. He would always go to clubs and other posh places where women younger than you would hit on him continuously. Who wouldn't, though? A rich, young-looking old man is the perfect eye candy for gold diggers. You of course voiced out your frustrations to him, but he again and again brushed it off, saying, ‘It’s nothing to worry about’ , ‘I only have my eyes on you, doll.’ Or the worst one so far: ‘We are not even that serious.’ It hurt a lot, but you brushed it off because you loved this man and, most definitely, the sex he gave you.

He was passionate in bed. Unlike anyone you have ever slept with. He would be gentle and slow with you most of the time. His girthy length slowly went in and out of you as your eyes tried to stay fixated on the movie. Hands on your hips, squeezing the soft flesh as he whispered in your ears in a sultry voice. “Taking me in so well doll… your pussy is sucking me in so good, has me controlling myself..” he darkly chuckles before adding. “Dripping all over my couch cushions… who is going to clean this up huh? making a sweet little mess.. dw i will help you with it baby…gonna have you staining this entire couch …” you shuddered as he trailed wet kisses up your neck and nibbled on your ears. His other hand squeezed and tugged on your tender breasts. Toying with your puffy nipples in between his fingers. You let out a soft huff as his cock hit your sweet spot. “What’s wrong, doll? Too much..? I thought my little slut liked it when i went deep..” he chuckled before thrusting into you with some force, making your stomach tumble and turn.

It was getting infuriating at this point. Your fork dug into the piece of filet mignon with great force, your hands shaking at the tension as your mind raced off to all those memories you made with him. And it all went down the drain because of a stupid mistake he made. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? You haven’t talked much this evening..” All the laughter and banter had died down, and the attention was on you. You were brought back to earth when your dad spoke up. But someone HAD to chime in. “Yeah y/n… What’s wrong with you? You didn’t even greet me at the front door… Don't you know how rude that is?” Jungkook yammered. His eyes had a glint of mischievousness. He had his stupid smirk on, and he talked to you in a tone he definitely knew you didn’t appreciate. You glared at him with pure anger burning in your eyes. Out of rage, you pushed your chair and got up before stomping your way upstairs to your room. Jungkook watched as you walked upstairs. That stupid smirk widening.

You were walking as fast as you could down the huge hallway. You just needed to lock yourself in your room, cry, and sleep. Your thoughts were interrupted when a rough hand grabbed you by the nape of your neck. His calloused fingers press the sides of your neck in a tight grip. Before you could protest and push him away, he- “Don't even think about moving or opening that fucking mouth.. Don't make me do something I will regret..” He whispered in your ears with gritted teeth. His hot breath and words fanned the lobes of your ears, sending a pulse to your core.

Jungkook pushed you into your room, making you stumble and fall to the ground. He quickly locked your bedroom door before turning around to face you. He grabbed you by your throat, making you stand up on your feet before speaking up. “What is wrong with you, huh? Can't you just act normal? Why do you have to put up a fit?” “You tell me!” You spat. Jungkook huffed angrily and rolled his eyes at your response. He let go of your neck before pushing you down on your bed. “Are you acting like this because of that incident? Why are you still hung up on it? Move on. Nothing happened between us.” Your eyes widened at his words. How dare he say that after what he did? “Move on?? MOVE ON?!” You bursted. “HEY! Quite down. Don’t raise your voice at me.” Jungkook quickly put you in place, making you roll your own eyes. “I can't believe you right now.. You outright went out and cheated on me and you are asking me to move on? What are you on jungkook??? You are supposed to be my boyfriend. You told me you wanted to date me. Marry me and for me to HAVE YOUR KIDS,” Jungkook sighed, lowered his head, and softly muttered, “i know what i told… in that moment…” Your face drained of all color. You stared at him in disappointment, as you knew what was going to be his next words. “What do you want from me!!!” You got up and screamed in Jungkook's face before walking towards your door. “Wait-“ Jungkook yanked you by your wrist, pulling you away from the door.

“Let go of me, you moron!” You tried freeing yourself from his grip, but he was quick to throw you back on your bed. He got closer and climbed on top of the bed, his legs on either side of yours. Jungkook had a sour expression as he started unbuckling his belt. “Don't fucking touc-“ a harsh slap landed on your right cheek before he grabbed you by your jaw and smashed his lips onto yours. It was a struggle for dominance. You were reluctant to let him in, but he pushed through and started kissing you sloppy and hard. Your protests were muffled by his hungry mouth. Muscular tongue swirled around you, tasting you. You eventually gave in. Eyes fluttering, and your hands reached to hold his face but was pinned down almost immediately by Jungkook's strong ones. He pulled back, and a string of saliva connected your lips. He gazes down at your fucked-out face with a dark glint. “So pathetic..” he said before cupping his hand over your clothed cunt. You gasp as you feel his palm push into your sopping hole. Dampening the thin fabric. He landed a harsh slap on your clit, making you buck your hips for more. “So eager and needy aren’t you?” He teased you before shoving his fingers down your throat, making you suck and swirl your tongue around his digits. "Yeah, thats right… just like that…” he hissed. He nudged his knee into your pussy, pressing harder against the heat. Your eyes rolled back, and your thighs quivered as he continued.

He pulled his digits out of your mouth, a thick layer of saliva coating the slender fingers, before he shoved all three into your little cunny. Your eyes shot out wide, and your mouth fell open as he curled his fingers into you. “Dont make any noise… don’t want Daddy to hear you cry like a bitch because of me, right?” You covered your mouth with your free hand and nodded. Jungkook smirked and increased his pace. His fingers went in and out of your pussy at an inhumane rate, occasionally pressing down hard on your poor clit making you whine and whimper. He loved watching you writhe and suffer under his mercy. Something about you becoming putty under him, and he is only using his fingers. Your pussy gave out quickly as clear liquid gushed out and coated his digits. “Coming so quickly, doll? I thought you hated me?” He darkly chuckled before pulling out and slapping your cunt once again. You winced and moaned.

Jungkook started removing his clothes, using his loose tie to keep your mouth shut. He ripped your panties off and pushed your dress to your ribs. He stood at the foot of the bed and pulled you towards him before attacking your sensitive pussy. You grabbed his hair and mewled loudly as his tongue started working on your pussy. You were still sensitive from the aftermath of your previous orgasm. Your eyes spilled tears and you tried pushing his head away. Jungkook landed a harsh slap on your ass making you stop your movements. His tongue lapped at your pussy. Plunging into your sensitive hole and sucking your nub. He pressed his face closer into your pussy as your thighs clenched around his head. He held you down with his strong hands, and you were completely at his mercy. Your moans were slightly muffled by the makeshift gag. You grabbed his hair tighter, making him groan against your pussy, The vibrations sent jolts of pleasure to your core. His tongue swirled at your core. His nose was buried in your clit and his chin glistened with your juices, running down his neck. Your legs quivered and shook as he ate you out like a starved man. He pushed your thighs up, pinning them to your chest. A guttural moan escaped your lips as he pushed his fingers inside your soaking wet pussy, his lips sucking and biting down on your poor clit. “Mmm.. you taste so fuckin’ good, doll…” His fingers went in and out, curling and twisting, making you arch your back against his touch. You were seeing stars, and was suddenly pulled back to earth as he moved away. He looked down at your disheveled state, a devilish smirk was plastered on his face as he watched your eyes fill up with tears. “Pathetic little toy…”

He climbed onto the bed, his knees on either side of you. His lips and neck glistened with your arousal making you shiver, his hair all over the place from your tugging and pulling. Your eyes landed on his hips as you watched him fumble with his pants, swiftly pulling out his aching cock. His cock stood hard and tall; you could see the precum leaking from the tip, and you couldn’t help but moan at the sigh- Your eyes almost popped out of your skull as Jungkook plunged into your pussy with no warning. His thick girth stretched you out perfectly. He groaned as he watched your pussy accustom to his size, even though he had fucked you multiple times. “So tight… mmf- so fucking tight…”. He started moving; slow thrusts quickly turned into fast, harsh ones. You grabbed onto his biceps for stability, digging your nails into his arms as he mercilessly fucked into your cunny. Your eyes were fixated on his face as you watched his face contort in pleasure and greed. He loved watching the little bulge that formed in your abdomen whenever he took you to pound town. “God.. you see that doll? Do you feel me in your little tummy? You’re so tiny… takin’ me in so fuckin’ well…” You glanced down at your abdomen and moaned, your shaky hand reaching down to feel the mound. Jungkook's hand found yours, and he pressed down on it, sending jolts of pleasure after pleasure down to your core. His thrusts never seemed to stop as he continued drilling your pussy. Your thighs and his pelvis coated in a milky layer of your arousal. You writhed and squirmed under his build, his cock hitting all your right spots.

Jungkook grabbed your arms and pinned them to your sides, making sure you didn't move. “Watch it doll… you better stay still and act like a good fucking girl for me.. or else im gonna stop all of this and leave you right here… all needy and bothered, got it?” You cried at his command and nodded, not wanting to disobey him. “Will you behave from now onwards?” He asks, landing a slap on your face before grabbing your chin. You nodded, looking up into his eyes with your tear-filled ones. Jungkook smirked at your submission. He couldn’t help but find it extremely arousing. “Yeah? Gonna act like a good -thrust- girl f’me? You’re a good girl for -thrust- daddy right?” He said, in between harsh thrusts, your body was jerking upwards at each one of them. Your body arched off the bed, and you nodded incoherently. Babbles and random words left your lips as Jungkook pounded into you. He leaned forward and trapped you under his body. His lips found your neck, leaving dark hickeys and bites all over. “You’re mine. Baby. All mine. And nothings going to change that.” You cried out and wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders, pulling him closer to your body.

Jungkook chuckled before going rougher on you. Your thighs shook inhumanely, and your nails dug into his back, leaving scratches and bruises. “Pussy was made for me… you feel so good.. so so good…” His mouth continued its relentless assault on your neck, marking you with as many hickeys as he could. Jungkook growled as he felt your pussy clench around his length, signaling that you were close. He lets out a low, rough moan against your neck as he keeps moving against you, his body responding to you and your body in all the right ways. He detaches from your neck for a moment and takes a handful of your hair in his hand, tipping your head back so that you’re looking up at him. “You close baby?” You nod incoherently, your only focus being coming around his dick. He slowly lifts himself up and throws one of your legs over his shoulder, gripping your waist as he helps you reach your climax. His fingers found your throbbing clit, before tugging and pinching the poor nub. You gripped the sheets and threw your head back as the pleasure got more intense. The makeshift gag coated in a thick layer of your saliva. You were a babbling mess. Your brain was mush, and the only thing that is getting registered in your mind is Jungkooks dick going in and out of your cunt. Jungkook found all of this hot and sexy. He loved watching you become putty under him. He loved how you were basically under his mercy. “Look at you… such a mess… and how were you acting minutes ago…? Shouting and -thrust- yelling…” he chuckled darkly. “You probably don’t even know what im saying right now… Cus you’re so cockdrunk and dumb to think of anything else but my dick…”

You screamed out a bit too loudly and buck your hips before squirting all over the sheets and jungkook. A stream of clear liquid gushed out of your pussy. His thrusts and words sending you to another dimension. He grins as he feels you release again, the sound of your cry and the feel of your body shuddering and trembling beneath him sending waves of pleasure through him. He keeps his fingers moving against you for a few moments, trying to prolong your pleasure for as long as possible before withdrawing them slowly. He continued fucking into you, trying to reach his own orgasm. He kisses you deeply and hungrily, his tongue exploring your mouth as his body continues to press down against you.

You were too out of it. Your eyes fluttered as you came down from your high. You weakly looked at him. His forehead was coated in a thin layer of sweat that ran down his body. You pulled him closer to your body and let him fuck into you. “Gosh baby… you’re so good f’me…” you whined and nodded, another knot starting to build up in your stomach. “Im gonna fill you up so well doll… gonna have you leaking my cum… would you like that? You want me to fill you up?” He asked, looking at you, and just smirked because he knew you were too out of it to reply.

He moves his hands down to your hips, grabbing them and flipping you over onto your stomach. His body quickly moves over yours once more, pinning you down on to the bed. He presses his body against yours from behind, his cock grinding into you in a slow, harsh rhythm, his chest pressed against your back, his lips close to your ear as he speaks. “You’re mine, do you understand that? I’m never gonna let you go…” with a few more thrusts, jungkook presses down and fills you up with his hot cum. His heavy balls emptying every last drop into your fucked out pussy. He groaned and moaned in your ears, holding you close to his body as he came down from his high. His breath was ragged and uneven.

He pulls out of you and watches it slowly drip out of your puffy lips. He collapses right next to you and pulls you into his chest. Stroking your sweaty hair and back. “I love you… I love you so much… and im sorry… i really am okay?” You hum softly, finally being able to register his words. “We will talk about this later, okay? I don’t want to lose you…” he pulls you in closer to his body and sigh, loving the warmth of your body against his own, but is quickly interrupted when-

“Jungkook??? Y/n??? What's going on in there???”

Shit.

A/N: THANKS FOR READINGGGG I HOPE YALL LIKED IT 💔💔💔💔 think i might js turn into a jungkook blog 🤣😹🙏

Masterlisssttt :3

#౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ yun’s silly fics #bts #bts smut #jungkook smut #bts x reader #bts army #bts reactions #bts fanfic #bts headcanons #bts scenarios #jungkook headcanons #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x reader #jungkook reaction #jungkook scenarios #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook

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landograndprix · 2 months

Text

woman ✾ l.n - viii

❧ you love max, you really do but your little brother has been getting more on your nerves each day as he tries to set you up with one of his friends.

❧ being in love is hard when there's people trying to sabotage it but they aren't aware of the strong bond you and lando have formed over the last few weeks.

❧ lads (gn), I'm so sorry it takes me ages to update this fic pls forgive me :( omce again, spelling mistakes add 🌟 character 🌟 charles' a lil weird and these fans can suck my **** 🥰 verstappen!reader.

❧ prev part – next part

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y/nverstappen posted to their story

➽────────────────────────❥

y/nverstappen

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 and 81,564 others

y/nverstappen celebrating iris' 31st the right way ♥️

tagged: irisxo, martingarrix

view all 1,654 comments

irisxo best birfday baby 😘

↳ y/nverstappen ♥️♥️

maxmaxmax my favorite party animals <3

charleslec lmao time to act like adults then?

↳ norry4 life doesn't end after 25 💀

hamilt44n man y'all so pressed about older women living their lives lmfao just say your jealous

verstappenmax my favorite people

mrsnorris am I the only one who thinks her and martin are together?

landitonorris at least she's not in monza bothering lando lol

↳ norstappen not to burst your bubble but max pretty much said he's flying to ibiza with lando after the race 🥰

landitonorris when did he say this?

norstappen in a dutch interview yesterday

landitonorris oh well as long as she stays away from lando 😇

norstappen lmao why, you think you have a chance with him or something?

norry4 honestly hope they get caught making our or something just to upset y'all fake fans even more 💀

versthappenm don't listen to the haters bestie, we still love you ❤️

charlesgirlies 31 and still not settled down, maybe iris should focus on that instead of partying all the time 🤡

↳ carlandooo pretty sad you have to go and talk shit about y/n AND her friends just because she talks to charles, you're the clown here 🤡

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y/nverstappen posted on their story

charles_leclerc replied to your story

charles_leclerc

You're in Monaco again?

y/nverstappen

Yes

charles_leclerc

hanging out with Max?

y/nverstappen

Yes

charles_leclerc

And lando? 😉

y/nverstappen

You think I don't know what you did?

what do you want from me charles?

charles_leclerc

alright, I'm sorry..can we talk?

y/nverstappen

nah don't think that's necessary

it was never anything serious and never will be anything serious.

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Woman taglist @hockeyboysarehot @beatricemiruna @starwarssavy23 @be-your-coffee-pot @thecubanator2 @ironmaiden1313 @hanniesdawn @leclercdream @alexandralibbre @elliegrey2803 @watersquirtpewpewboomm @laneyspalding19 @whoreks @cha-hot @luciaexcorvus @emma34501 @sunny44 @roseseraj @goldenharrysworld @18754389 @graciewrote

#lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris #lando norris x y/n #lando norris smau #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #lando x reader

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madelynraemunson · 3 months

Note

i need to know if we ever get jealous of eddie’s said short lived relationships. do we ever try to sabotage them? or are we the type to try and get along with them and thats when they’re like “oh no you two need to be together?”

(i know the answer in my heart but i want to hear what you think lol)

ex husband!eddie x reader

whaaat? sabotage eddie's relationships? 😵 that's diabolical. why on earth would we do that?

that one time we showed up to his house wearing a sundress after months of wearing sweats was TOTALLY unplanned! we had a date, after all.

and that one time we were dancing with eddie at the family bbq, rocking out to all our favorite songs like careless teenagers right in front of girlfriend #3 was all a ploy by our kiddos! right, kids? right? we do everything for the kids. they love seeing their parents happy and getting along. right, kids?

and are you really still on about the day of eli's talent show?? 🤦🏻‍♀️ we only asked girlfriend #9 to take a family photo of us because she was the only one that was around. that's all 😇 and she shouldn't be mad at us! eli LOVES taking pics with mommy and daddy. who is she to get in the way of a family, especially when kids are involved 🤨😤 (also, we didn't MAKE eddie place his hand where he did in the pictures. he literally did it by himself, on his own terms.)💋

...okay, bunnie you got me! we know damn well what we're doing 😅 but quite frankly, so does eddie.

you've got a date with david tonight. in fact, eddie knows was nice enough to house sit for you and help the kids with homework. an innocent, sweet little gesture. right?

you and david are watching a movie on his couch and things are getting steamy really fast. david is about to kiss you when...

RING! RING!

you pull away immediately. checking your phone to see who it is, you realize,

"it's my ex husband, that fucker. the house better be burning down." you go to answer it. "yes?"

“hey, sweetheart, this is eddie...the banished." he greets you. “i can't seem to find the measuring tape and was wondering if you knew where it was."

you're unsure as to why he would even need measuring tape. regardless, you reply,

"it's in with drawer of miscellaneous stuff. the one by the kitchen sink.”

"ahh, that's right. found it. thanks, babe."

but that's not the only useless call of the night. as your date with david continues, the calls keep coming through in seemingly calculated intervals. at the worst possible times. with the most irrelevant fucking questions.

“i can't find the baking soda." “where do you keep the batteries? the c batteries not the double As." "hey, just a heads up, you might wanna call somebody for this pipe." "what's the wifi password again?"

"EMUNSON1986!" you hiss. "the year you graduated high school."

"aww, really?" eddie coos. "that's endearing. thanks baby."

eventually after an hour, the calls stop. you and david were able to finish the movie, and get back to that steamy interaction before you were spammed mercilessly. david is now fiddling with your straps as you two are kissing, his available hand grazing your lower back, breath hitching when —

RING! RING!

"jesus h CHRIST!" you howl. "it's midnight for god's sake. this better be important. HELLO?”

"sorry," eddie mumbles on the other line. "remind me, i'm looking at your snake plant and was wondering how often these guys need watering? they look a little parched."

"once a day and i already did it," you say through gritted teeth.

"it's a new day, should they be watered again?"

"don't worry about it, eds."

"i always worry, sweetheart.”

david happens to hear this. giving you a side eye now, your date watches as you stay on the line with eddie for a couple of minutes. finally, you get eddie to agree to stop calling, which fills you with relief when you hang up the phone. your eyes then travel back to david, whom you begin to bat your flirty lashes at.

"now." you say. "where were we?"

"you should probably go home," david huffs. "looks like the fort still needs holding down."

you're seeing absolute red now. you are seething. that motherfucker.

your drive home is an angry, and sexually frustrated one. you can't believe eddie would sabotage your date like this, your only fun night out this week. he's in for it now.

"date ended early sweetheart?" eddie pouts at you the moment you walk into your house.

"bedroom," you order. "now."

tagging peeps who seemed interested in this lil universe! as always thank you for reading 💋

@highinmiamiii @potatobeans99 @mediocredreams @joshlmbrt @eddiesxangel @enam3l @mmunson86 @davidblowies-blog @thatissonnina @oskea93 @aurora-austen @lesservillain @madeofmunson @xxbimbobunnyxx @eddiesghxst @munsonssweets @nailbatanddungeon @swiss-mrs @winchester-angel @belokhvostikova @curlyjoequinn @strangereads @marrowfrog00 @shadyunknowncreation @tuolcaniacoc @catherinnn @prestinalove @pleuviors @cinemabean @calumfmu @littlexdeaths @let-the-music-take-c0ntrol @meetmeatyourworst @b-irock @spencerssatchel

divider by: @cafekitsune

#maddy’s mailbox ✨#eddie munson #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #ex husband!eddie #ex husband!eddie munson #ex husband!eddie x reader #ex husband!eddie munson x reader

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ponderingmoonlight · 4 months

Note

Hii can you pls do a nanami and gojo(separately) make out fic pls??

Okay, let's do this with a little twist...

Getting caught while making out with JJK men

Pairings: Geto x fem!reader; Gojo x fem!reader; Nanami x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,2k

Warnings: well, it's getting heated babes, not 100% proofread because I wrote this in my work break (again lol)

Geto Suguru

You know how wrong it is. This is not the right time, not the right place to stand in a lonely corner with Geto Suguru’s hands all over you and his lips hanging onto yours like you’re air and he cannot breathe.

“Fuck, we should get going”, you whimper into the lonely hallway.

In fact, getting going is the last thing you want to do right now. Not when Riko is busy saying goodbye to her former life, not when your emotions are all over the place. You hid your feelings towards Suguru for so long, tried to convince yourself over and over that you don’t hold those kinds of feelings towards him. But when he allowed Riko some privacy, when you saw the glimmer in his dark eyes shimmering down at you…

You were lost.

And you lose over and over again with his lips worshipping yours like no one did before, with him pressing you against a nearby wall. Countless nights, you pondered about the way it might feel to get hold like this, to actually feel him this close. But reality? Way too bittersweet, way better than anything you could have ever imagined.

“I don’t want to leave you ever again”, he mumbles against your parted mouth before starting a dangerous dance with both of your tongues intertwined.

That man who pierced through Satoru could be here every time, you need to fulfill this mission, need to concentrate on escorting Riko to Tengen-sama. After all, this might be the only purpose you have here at Jujutsu High: Completing missions after missions, doing as you were told.

No, fuck that.

This right here is what you live for. The sensation of Suguru hollering over you like a shadow, of him holding you like no one did before, putting together all your broken pieces.

“I love you”, you finally hush.

“I think I always did.”

“I feel the same way, (y/n). God, I adore you more than anything else.”

Just when you thought your kiss couldn’t get any deeper, couldn’t make you lose your breath even more, he grabs your chin in order to gain better access of your mouth. Now you’re all yours, whimpering under his touch like a little girl.

Out of instinct, you wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, allow your fingertips to grab his soft hair for hold.

“Huh, really didn’t expect to find ya here like that. Well, having fun before dying isn’t a crime, ya know.”

Your blood freezes instantly as you pull away and get greeted by the coldest green eyes you’ve ever seen. The man who fought against, Satoru. Without any doubt.

But…You eye him up and down, blood sticking onto his tight shirt without a visible wound.

Where’s Satoru?

“Leave her alone”, Suguru instructs the man seriously while positioning himself in front of you.

“You’re better off protecting ya little girlfriend from me. She’s cute. Maybe I’ll take her on a date when I killed you.”

Fuck fuck fuck.

Your heart drops to the floor, Suguru’s widened eyes revealing the urgency of this situation all too urgently. Out of all people who could have caught both of you this vulnerable, why on earth does it have to be him? There is no way Suguru will allow you to stay here while that stranger now knows…

“She’s your weakness, isn’t she? Maybe I can teach you a lesson about how freaking dumb love is.”

“Get Riko and escort her to Tengen-sama as fast as possible, (y/n)”, Suguru speaks out firmly while your eyes make contact.

“I can’t leave you here alone, if he defeated Satoru-“

He doesn’t interrupt you with words. No, instead he pulls you close, presses his puffy lips against yours until you feel like drowning in emotions.

“Get going. I don’t want this to be the last time someone caught us together.”

Gojo Satoru

“Get away from me right now.”

Oh, how desperately you try to sound angry while the truth is, that you want Gojo Satoru as close as possible. Your eyes dart left and right, search for the unpromising opportunity that somebody catches you in this position.

This position.

You, caged between Satoru’s arms in the male dorm you aren’t even allowed in, to be exact.

“C’mon, you don’t want me to get away from you. After teasing me the whole day and giving me that looks, you want me to go? Try better next time, princess”, he teases you while throwing his sunglasses to the ground without thinking twice.

“If we get caught here by a teacher…I can’t afford bad reputation, Satoru! What would my parents think, what if I get grounded, what if-“

“I know something better than using that mouth for hysteric talking”, he purrs with his face drawing closer and closer.

“Please, you aren’t even listening to me!”

A mix of panic, excitement and desire rushes through your veins, makes your eyes widen in sheer horror.

If your parents find out you were caught with a boy while actually, you are supposed to be a good student, you’ll be screwed. Especially when they found out which boy you were making out with…

Even though Gojo Satoru is considered the strongest jujutsu sorcerer of your timeline, your parents seem to hate him to the core.

“I don’t care that he’s your classmate. If you ever get involved with him more than necessary, you will leave this school without a second chance.”

You swallow hard. No, there is absolutely no doubt in the fact that your father made his point very clear.

But Satoru does as well. When he wraps his arms around your waist, he catches you just in time before your wobbly knees give in. No boy ever touched you like that, no other boy ever swept you off your feet like that. The butterflies in your stomach become almost unbearable while you can’t help but stare at his eyes.

Those oh so gorgeous eyes.

“I don’t want to hide my feelings for you any longer. Fuck your parents, fuck their threats. As long as I’m here, no one can hurt you.”

You let out your shaky breath you didn’t know you were holding.

And then your lips collide with his. Slowly and sweet at first until your very own longing becomes too much. You grab his back, pull him closer, allow him to access your mouth. He tastes like your favorite chewing gum and strawberries, so sweet that you cannot escape. Longingly, you allow him to suck on your bottom lip until a whimper escapes your lips. This is so much better than you ever imagined, so much sweeter than you ever dreamed of. There will never be a boy apart from Satoru who sweeps you off your feet like this, who makes you feel this way.

“Out of all boys, why does it have to be him, (y/n)?”

Your heart drops so suddenly that you feel like dying right on the spot. That low voice you know so well by now, that low voice that means nothing but trouble at the moment.

“S-sir…Yaga-sama I…I”

You fail to find the right words. In fact, all you are able to do is staring at him with glossy eyes and messy hair that reveal oh too painfully what you just did.

You crossed the line you promised your father not to. You came to the boy’s dorms even though you aren’t allowed to. And you got caught by your teacher doing so.

“Why does a nice girl like you waste her time with trash like Gojo?”, he continues.

“C’mon, you don’t have to be this me-“

“Please don’t tell my father!”

You let yourself drop to the floor, your head resting on top of your hands.

“I know it’s not my place to ask for something like that. But if you do…I will have to leave Jujutsu High.”

Thick silence hangs in the air, so quiet that you’re able to hear your tears fall onto the ground. You shouldn’t see Satoru anymore, should end this relationship before it started.

But truth is…you love him. Despite all the differences and your father’s hatred towards him, you love Satoru. You don’t want to leave him and Jujutsu High, you can’t stand the sheer fact of never seeing him again.

Still, it’s Yaga-sama’s job to inform your parents about your behavior, that you were caught in the boy’s dorm. And from there on there is no way out for you, no way to escape this fate.

“What are you talking about, (y/n)?”

Your teary eyes dart towards him immediately while you have to blink a few times in order to process what he just said.

“You caught me in the boy’s dorm with Satoru. It is your responsibility to inform my parents about that”, you reply with shaky voice.

“And risking that you’ll have to leave Jujutsu High? You’re the only useful student of this year and probably the only one who is able to tame this idiot down. I didn’t see anything today.”

“I am not an idiot”, Satoru protests with a sly grin.

“You can call yourself lucky a girl like (y/n) decided to keep up with you. I hope you won’t hurt her, Satoru. Or else, I might tell her father about it.”

And with that, he turns on his heels and walks aways as noiseless as he came, leaving both Satoru and you standing there bamboozled.

“So…what’s the worst your father would do to me?”

“Oh, he’d totally kill you if he found we made out”, you reply instantly.

Nanami Kento

“I might be gone for a few days, darling.”

Gently, he caresses your back the way he knows you adore it while wearing a saddened expression on your face.

“What mission takes a few days? Why aren’t they sending Gojo like they always do?”, you question with a pout.

You weren’t really able to meet up with your boyfriend Kento for what feels like ages. During work here at Jujutsu High, you aim to be professional, to not show each other affection. After all, this is your job and both of you take that very seriously. But now that you haven’t really seen each other after works for weeks, you can’t escape the urge to simply hug him, to feel his warmth and take in his masculine scent.

Kento breathes out audibly while stroking your hair. Truth is, he misses you like crazy. Despite his desperate attempts to stay away from you at Jujutsu High, he finds himself wrapping his arms around you as well.

“This is something serious. I can’t let the students go out on their own”, he mumbles against your forehead before placing a gentle kiss onto it.

Your stomach drops in excitement immediately. After weeks without affection, just a tiny kiss on your forehead seems to be enough to drive you wild.

“I get that. It just frustrates me a little”, you reply.

When your eyes find his, they are clouded by a feeling you know all too well. Time stands still when his grip around you tightens and his gaze drifts towards your lips. Your oh so longing lips that cannot wait to get kissed.

Without hesitation, you close the tiny gap between both of you. Even though you’re standing in the middle of a classroom at Jujutsu High, even though you both agreed on keeping your relationship out of work life.

You simply can’t right now. A swift motion is enough for him to lift you off the ground with ease while pressing your back against the cool wall. A whimper escapes your lips before you’re able to stop it, all senses directed towards him with your eyes closed by the sheer sensation.

“I missed you so much”, he breathes against your lips before continuing his sweet torture.

“Missed you as well…so…much…”

You allow your hungry hands to re-discover the valleys of his muscular back, his broad shoulders, his oh so perfect face. How are you supposed to stay away from a man like him longer than a few hours? Him with his character of gold, body of steel and brain?

“Nanami-sensei, I-…Oh.”

Your eyes dart open immediately and find a utterly surprised Yuji Itadori staring at you with his mouth open.

“Yuji, what are you doing here?”, you mumble while picking on your messy clothes in the most awkward way.

“Why didn’t I know that you two are a thing?”, the pink-haired boy continues, ignoring your lousy attempt to distract.

“Because this is our private life. Why are you here, Itadori-kun?”, Nanami replies in all seriousness.

“But…That’s awesome! You two go so well together! And I always thought that (y/n)-san is totally into you!”

“Watch your words, Itadori.”

“Yuji, can you please just…leave?”, you literally beg.

“Oh yeah, of course.”

“Wait, Itadori”, Nanami instructs the boy just when he’s about to leave the room.

“Don’t you dare to tell Kugisaki about anything you saw today.”

Yuji blinks a few times before nodding and leaving the room with a smile.

“He will totally tell her everything. You know that, right?”, you comment, still trying to catch your breath.

“Unfortunately, yes.”

Tags:

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onlyswan · 1 year

Text

summary: in which jungkook is giving up on you but you have so much love left to give.

> idol!jungkook x f!reader / angst, fluff, suggestive / wc: 8.3k

> warnings: mention of infidelity (no one did u can breathe ily), mention of a classmate slipping their number in oc’s pocket and oc feeling unsafe, mention of puking, mentions & allusion to s/x, alcohol consumption, making out, boob!e fondle, gr*nding kinda? jungkook is hard™️ they’re so in love it’s sickening

> in which masterlist!

playlist! and if/or when - ruel / hate everything - jungkook cover (gsoul) / hits different - taylor swift / statue - lil’ eddie / i wouldn’t ask you - clairo (i had to get in the zone & this is so oc-coded i need u to listen i’m so srs)

next: in which you don’t want to give up jungkook (even when he gave you reasons to, even if they give you reasons to).

note: this was a journey. happened back in june 2019.!! i’m ripping off the bandaid <3 deep sigh writing this made me realize how my babies have come so far. hopefully will follow up with a fluffy fluff lowkey inspired by the underwear live soonest lols i’m excited for it 2 stay tuned 🫂 reblogs & feedback are much appreciated <3

—

you forgot the walls of the apartment building you’re living in are thin. a small portion of the white paint has been chipped off, it looks like a birth mark, you note — except it’s not, and you’re the one who caused the irregularity.

your favorite glass is scattered across the kitchen floor, reduced to shards and to sparkling pieces almost as miniscule as dust. you don’t know what came over you. you don’t know why you threw it at the wall instead of filling it with cold water to only drink three sips like you usually do.

just when you thought you’ve been faring well in holding yourself together today, a fresh wave of sorrow overwhelms you. your knees buckle as you begin weeping, the loudest you’ve been since this nightmare has started. it swallows the knocking sounds at your door, but it’s still not loud enough to quell jungkook’s quivering voice playing like a broken record on loop inside your head.

“we should end this… i think it’s for the best, before we get drained.”

the rain is coming down fiercely and you’re freezing inside his car, parked outside your apartment. after all, his balenciaga windbreaker can only do so much against the blasted airconditioner. your throat is painfully dry, and your hands and face are numb from the piercing cold. but those are the least of your concerns because you feel like your head had just been dunked in ice water. the sting in your eyes are burning warmer as the seconds fly by and the muffled sounds of the torrential raindrops drum frantically in your ears. they’re clouding the car windows, mirroring jungkook’s tear-stained cheeks.

“i’m leaving again in three weeks. and i’m leaving again next year… and i’ll be gone again soon after that for a long time. i-i don’t know when i’m coming home, ___.” he pauses. the heel of palms press against his eyes, as if that could possibly barricade the saltwater leaking from them. “i never know where my life is taking me and you have your own… there’s too much-too much going on. i think that i’m just wasting your time, that this isn’t- it’s not going anywhere.”

“open the door! hello?! ___!”

“what do you want?!” you seeth in annoyance, swinging the door open to reveal your pesky neighbor.

he scratches the top of his head awkwardly at the sight of the mess that you greeted him with, having not bothered to pretend that you weren’t wailing your heart out.

”hey, i know you’re going through something…” his lips remain parted as he struggles to find the correct word, his right eye twitching voluntarily. “soul-crushing? right now. but i heard glass breaking and i was concerned that you, uhm, might’ve hurt yourself.”

the apparent nervousness and sincerity in his actions pull you out from the isolating disassociation you’ve imprisoned yourself in. you feel humiliated, presenting yourself in your most pitiful form infront of a kid two years younger than you. you envy him for having it together after storming out of his parents’ house while you-

“i’m not hurt. it was just an accident.”

you’re shamelessly lying infront of his face because the truth makes you feel too ashamed of yourself.

he only nods, smiling in relief. “i don’t know how to help make you feel better, so i just brought honey like i used to do before.”

you sigh, the familiar jar of honey and its red checkered lid waving at you like an old friend. has it been a year?

“bro, i told you i can’t accept this anymore.”

“you and your boyfriend already broke up. what’s the big deal?”

you have never wanted to smack someone more, the genuine confusion painted on his face feels like an infuriatingly harsh slap to yours.

“he wasn’t threatened by your honey, you dipshit. we just found out my blood sugar was getting a bit high!”

“oh- i’m so-”

you angrily slam the door shut. the silence you’re left with is suffocating, and you find yourself breaking down again.

he jumps in surprise when you open the door again, yelling- “and we’re not broken up!” before ripping away the jar of honey from his sweaty palms. he’s left completely flabbergasted, an inexplicable heaviness weighing on his chest when he hears your sniffling from the other side of the hard-wood.

“does that mean i can deliver again next week? i have too much in my kitchen…”

he doesn’t receive a snarky answer, surprisingly, so he continues talking.

“and f-y-i, your left cheek is bleeding! you might want to check on that!”

—

“you didn’t even give me any signs…”

you inhale a deep, shaky breath in a fragile attempt of keeping your composure. you want to scream, rip apart this thick tension with your bare hands, and force him to admit that this is just some kind of sick joke. you finally see him in person after months and all he has for you is a gift bag filled to the brim with heartbreak. this is too casually cruel, not something you would’ve expected from your jungkook.

“do you really mean that? or is there something else you’re not saying…? look at me.” you plead, weakly tugging at the hem of his long-sleeved shirt. the horrors of long-distance relationship stories claw their way out of your skin, adding fuel to the fire of your deepest fear. “you didn’t cheat on me, right? that can’t be it. we- we always-”

after you ended your last relationship, you cried at the parking lot of your university and continued living your life the next morning as if nothing happened at all. you did it all for yourself, anyway. he was gradually tearing down your confidence and your dignity; and you didn’t want to become a person the future you would despise for not being wiser, stronger.

and here you are at present day: spending the cozy sunday night solving chemistry problems on your desk. you have a blue bandaid plastered on your face and a cheek full of fruit and honey. and you would say you’re fine, but jungkook wasn’t here to sweetly dote on you while treating your wound. he isn’t here to taste the honey from your lips with that coquettish smirk of his. he isn’t laying on your bed, fighting to stay awake because he wants to fall asleep with you as his pillow.

no matter how hard you try to shut out this thought, it keeps knocking on the door. he’s going to be doing these sweet nothings for a different person when he finally reaches a more stable place in his life. you want to kneel on the ground, beg the heavens to meddle with destiny and never let you hear about it.

because that means he will never set foot in your apartment again, and the personal belongings you left in his room will be thrown out to erase the traces you left behind.

so this is how it begins.

the ugliest parts of you are swimming to the surface, tying themselves around your ankles because jungkook took away the ground from beneath your feet after unearthing your soul and… nothing makes sense to you anymore. if you wake up every morning to tend to your garden, and you look outside the window to learn that the sun has stopped burning, what do you have left?

your lips inevitably curve into a frown, but you inhale a sharp breath, patting your eyes dry before they can smudge the black ink on your notepad. and then you dip a strawberry in honey for the third time.

—

“no, baby, no- that’s not it.”

the dread and insecurity weaved into the cracks of your voice fill him with nausea and panic. he captures your frigid hand with haste, firmly holding it to his pounding chest.

“i would never do that to you. just the thought alone fucking disgusts me… you’re the only one. you’ve ruined me for everybody else.”

“then why are you giving up on me? am i becoming a burden?”

jungkook feels painfully numb, mind floating as the buildings outside the window get left behind him as a mere, passing blur.

“yah, jungkook-ah. are you crying?”

a torturous moment of silence passes as he struggles to find his voice. his tongue is tied, and his lost eyes are betraying the nights he spent practicing how to explain himself to you. back then, the reasoning he curated made sense. but faced with the consequences of his actions, the love of his life’s brain running a thousand miles per hour, recording a tale of woe and heartache on his passenger seat — he has never felt this much loathing for himself and his weaknesses.

you release a shaky breath, patting his rosy cheeks dry with your sleeves. you smile at him kindly, and he watches you in sheer disbelief. he can’t fathom the perpetual luck he’s been blessed with that he met, who he believes to be, the purest soul to grace this corrupted world. they’re damp with your tears, so it’s practically useless, but the sweet gesture is a stray beam of sunlight in the midst of the dull gray clouds.

the comforting rubs on his shoulder extracts him from his torturous thoughts, and only then does he feel the wetness on his face.

“you’ve been holding it back for the past week. just cry it out.”

he nods wordlessly, hiding himself in the fleece blanket from his lap. yoongi can feel a lump forming in his throat as he witnesses his youngest brother breaking down, jungkook’s pain also being his pain. as a group who’s been living together for the past decade, no one will be able to empathize with them as well each other. especially during times like this.

“___ hasn’t called?”

jungkook shakes his head wistfully, wiping away the tears that slid down his nose. he is dying to send you a text message, worried sick, and still used to hearing about your day the same way he is used to sleeping on his stomach.

“hyung,” the sound of the word borders on a sob. “it’s over. this is killing me… it’s all my fault.”

“but isn’t that what you wanted?”

“exactly. so why am i crying?” his hands ball into closed fists. “i’m an asshole.”

“enough of that!” yoongi loudly whines out his scolding. ”we all know you had your reason.”

“but, hyung, i fucked up!” he tenses up, blurting out the acknowledgement that’s been haunting him day and night. “she told me the most romantic thing and i felt so… fuck, i’m so angry at myself. i ruined everything. and i’m scared that i’d end up making things worse if i try fixing it.”

“stop beating yourself up. we can’t solve things this way.” yoongi grabs a bottle of water from the cupholder between them, twisting the cap open before handing it to jungkook. “drink first.”

once he starts drinking, he realizes that his throat has been awfully dry and sore. it’s most probably best for him to rest his voice. he can already foresee the concert rehearsal being absolute hell tomorrow. if he can’t sing, he doesn’t know how else he’s supposed to keep himself sane.

“talk to me. what did she say?”

“you’re the first person i’ve fallen in love with, do you know that?”

and with that revelation, he loses the warmth of your touch, and he comes crashing down like a wingless aircraft.

“i also need time to think about it. that’s only fair, right? that i get to decide, too…?” you swallow thickly, lips parting as if the words are resisting to come out of your mouth.

he looks at you with an emotion you can’t name, a push and pull between longing and trepidation.

if this was a movie, he would brave the rain and somehow perfectly deliver a poetically romantic speech that would sway your heart. if this was a movie, you would take a warm bath together, make out in the bathtub, and make love on your bed. if this was a movie, the day would end with the two of you tangled up, peacefully asleep and rhythmic breathing in sync. but he knows you. apparently not as well as he thought, but to some extent, he knows you. if he pulls you closer in the heat of the moment, you would feel suffocated and defensive and you would push him away; and he would lose you for good. that much he knows. so he lets you leave and he stays in the car— heartbroken, crestfallen, and regretful, because he might’ve just recklessly thrown away the best gift the universe has ever given him.

“i was thinking about how she never would’ve made this much sacrifices and efforts for anyone else and i feel like… i- it’s all going to waste because our future is uncertain. i can’t be committed to her as much as she is committed to me. and, and i felt like the guilt was eating away at me, you know? i wasn’t thinking straight.” jungkook chews on his bottom lip, a last ditch effort to prevent himself from sobbing. “it just… consumed me? like i was drowning… and all i could smell and taste was the saltwater.”

“i see,” yoongi sighs, crossing his legs and intertwining his fingers infront of his stomach as he finds the right words to say. “that’s a normal response. our brain is a very complex friend… but you know, everything i’ve been through as myself and as a part of our team, hmmm, they taught me that there are times when a problem doesn’t necessarily need a solution per se. you just keep going until the fog clears up and then you move past it.”

fuck, jungkook needs a glass of whiskey. or two. or twelve. he listens intently despite seeming like he’s spacing out.

“this won’t last forever and time slips away from us without us even noticing. you should do what you want to do. if we’re going to deprive ourselves of good things, what will we have left after everything is over? money we can’t spend in one lifetime? there’s no happiness in that.”

yoongi frowns, wishing he could do more to alleviate the weight hanging on jungkook’s shoulders.

“you deserve love outside all the noise, too. focus on the present which you can still control and deal with the future when it arrives. if you do otherwise, you’ll just be tormenting yourself… and i know it’s easier said than done but! do you want to hear something i’ve had on my mind lately?”

with a flushed face and swollen eyes, he tilts his head to curiously spy on his hyung.

“what is it?”

“your motivation to work out after our shows is so you can stay awake and spend time with her. that’s why you fall asleep everywhere else. do you know how scary and endearing it is to watch that? is that what you call ‘not being committed enough’?”

yoongi fails to hide his gummy smile, body vibrating with silent laughter as pictures of jungkook falling asleep standing up flash before his eyes.

“seriously, you punk! you scare me! i just pass out and die straight after while you- really, you’re really unbelievable. i envy you. for being able to love with everything you have until they break your heart. i mean it!”

“but i’m the one who broke their heart this time.” jungkook somberly utters in defeat, bottom lip jutting out and chin quivering.

yoongi encouragingly pats his shoulder, shaking his body lightly. ”you can make it up to her. she’ll reach out before we leave. have some more patience.”

jungkook’s eyes turn into slits, suspiciously squinting at the man sitting beside him. “why do you sound so sure?”

“because she loves you. why else?”

—

you automatically pause from eating cup ramyeon when your phone lights up on top of the journals you’ve been reviewing for the past hour.

“ah, shit! shit!”

you abruptly cover your mouth with your hand, exhausted eyes watering because you accidentally bit your tongue after reading the name of the sender of your newest text notification. you take sips of cold water, peering at your phone as you do so. your hands itch to type out a response, but the screen dies and turns black, another of yoongi’s messages in the same pile of unanswered ones from your friends checking up on you tonight. you can’t talk to anyone right now; you need to get shit done.

after eating your dinner at the convenience store, you come home to a plastic of fried chicken hanging on the doorknob of your front door.

Eat lots and stay healthy! I’m feeding Jungkook well too. Don’t worry. — Yoongi

you peel off the blue handwritten note, sticking it on the cover of one of your books. you carefully carry the food using your free hand, and you can feel it radiating on your skin, the heat of a freshly-cooked meal. you were always worried of being a bother when you occasionally ask him how jungkook is doing on tour, but this made your heart significantly lighter. gaining a good friend after losing your lover, perhaps life can show a smidge of mercy when it wants to.

too bad you’ve always been one to be greedy.

—

“ah, seriously. why did you have to break up with ___?”

“we’ve been through this a million times!” jungkook exclaims in exasperation as he fiddles with the controller, bumping his knee with taehyung’s. “focus. you’re supposed to be helping me forget.”

“i don’t remember agreeing to that.” taehyung responds with a shrug, smirking when he picks up a booster and runs past his friend’s character. “you finally found someone who could put up with you and you let them go? i won’t let you forget.”

jungkook scoffs, eyes rolling upwards. “bro, i should be the least of your problems.”

“nuh-uh.” taehyung tuts with a grin, belly aching with laughter when jungkook’s car jumps over his to steal the lead. he didn’t even know that was possible. he plans on using the same trick against him later. “i’m making you my biggest problem so i don’t have to deal with mine.”

“they’re not married yet. you still have a chance, you know?”

“yah!” he gapes at jungkook in shock, entirely forgetting about the game. “take that back!”

“don’t act like you haven’t thought of it!”

“yeah, but i don’t say it out loud. it sounds too wrong! i still have my morals left!” he cries out, stomping his feet on the floor.

jungkook lightly punches his arm, eyebrows pinched in confusion. “i meant you have a chance if they break up. i have morals too! what do you think of me?!”

“oh…” taehyung blinks. “you know who else have probably thought of that too, though?”

“who?” jungkook boredly questions as he scrolls through the game collection, contemplating about which one to play next.

“all the other people waiting in line for ___.”

the realization renders him motionless, stirring up the possessiveness coursing through his veins. for the love of god, he doesn’t want to be petty but that struck a nerve. he wants to storm out of the house and look for you, beg on his knees for you to take him back.

“aish, hyung, you’re driving me crazy! why would you tell me that? are we torturing each other?!”

“are you crying? yah, jungkook-ah.” taehyung watches his hunched figure with a guilty wince, hesitant hands rubbing the expanse of his back. “i’m sorry- i’m sorry… do you want a hug?”

jungkook stays quiet, head hanging low to hide his face crumpling with anguish. the loose but affectionate hug that he gets pulled into prompts him to fall apart, catharsis blossoming in his ribcage and turning his bones into jelly.

he hears obnoxiously loud sniffles, and he abandons taehyung’s shoulder to look at his face. “are you crying, too?”

“stop ruining the moment.” taehyung groans, forcefully pushing down his head again.

namjoon comes out from his bedroom in search for another extension cord, still sipping on the half-empty iced americano he took from the fridge only ten minutes ago. the heartfelt scene on the couch causes him to halt on his tracks. how did they go from playing games to crying together? he silently observes the two members for a moment before deciding to approach them.

“what am i going to do with the two of you?” he grunts, ruffling his hair in frustration. “shall we go out for drinks to disinfect your wounded hearts?”

the mention of alcohol makes them perk up, jungkook’s tearful doe eyes sparkling at the prospect of temporarily erasing the pain that has uncontrollably spread throughout his system. he wants to drink until he forgets that he has hands, until he forgets what it feels like to touch you.

“thanks, monie-hyung. i’ll have my appetizer.”

and the iced americano gets snatched away from namjoon’s unsuspecting hand within the blink of an eye.

—

“this is not a barbecue restaurant.” you stare blankly at the orange neon lights spelling out the name of the night club your friends secretly conspired to bring you to.

“___, loosen up! the fastest way to move on is to find someone else. this is the best place for that.” aera turns around from the passenger seat of the taxi, her red lips painting a thrilled smile. “just forget about jungkook. we all knew this shit was going to happen. i’m surprised you even lasted that long!”

“i don’t know what you’re trying to imply but i don’t appreciate your tone.” you warn her with a sharp, threatening look. “and the ‘someone else’ that i found at a bar before turned out to be biggest fucking jerk i’ve ever met. i’m not doing this again.”

“things might be different this ti-” mi-ran aids in persuading you, but it only adds fuel to the fire.

“oh my god! fuck off!” you yell in irritation, aggressively getting off the car and slamming the door shut on their faces.

you never look back, ignoring the shouts of your name and half-assed apologies. you don’t have the slightest idea about where you’re going — your feet have a mind of their own and they chose to go the opposite way of home. this isn’t how you envisioned your night. you just wanted to listen to the sound of the meat grill and complain about life giving you a taste of true love just to cut your tongue with it until you bled. was that too much to ask?

you’re about ninety percent certain that you just lost two of whom you treated to be your closest friends. you think of ah-young, and you briefly consider crashing at your best friend’s band practice, but you’re too exhausted to travel to the other end of the city.

with eleven seconds left in the timer, you cross the street with swift and long strides alongside a crowd consisting mostly of employees wearing the same navy blue uniform. at last, you’re among the bright and lively restaurants, the inviting smell of good food making your stomach sting with hunger.

it’s only taehyung who recognizes you when you unknowingly pass by, almost choking on his glass of somaek, the combination of soju and beer. with his career on the line, he is confident that he can recognize that balenciaga windbreaker anywhere and anytime. meanwhile, instead of talking about you, the youngest is drunkenly reminiscing about the alleged ghost encounters he had in their old dorms. their leader is tragically left to tend to the grill alone. he deeply regrets not dragging any of the older members with them.

“everyone, i think i just saw __-”

a grimace of cluelessness is plastered on taehyung’s face when jungkook claps once, enthusiastically pointing at him as if he just announced something inspiring and life-changing.

“you’re right, you’re right! that’s it! what i’m kind of trying to say here is…” he pauses, facial muscles relaxing into a gloomy expression. he sniffles and rubs his nose, making it a brighter shade of red. “when we move houses again, i won’t have stories like these to bring with me. the new ghosts will be my memories with ___.”

none of the other two dares to speak after that, the oddly satisfying sound of meat being grilled and the chattering from other tables occupy the uneasy and heavy silence. instead, they begin filling their own shot glasses with pure soju. namjoon is the first one to spill it down his throat, slamming it on the table before dishing out his phone from his pocket. by this time, all of them are already drunk, double vision blurry and speech a little slurred. they gave up on counting the green bottles and cans of beer a long while ago.

“shit, that was a good metaphor. i need to write that down.”

“namjoon-hyung, he’s crying again!”

jungkook’s head slumps on the table with a thud, hot tears escaping down to his temple as he laments. “i miss her so much. why did i have to break up with her the second we got home? why…? am i so impulsive? what do i do if… if she agrees that we- h-how am i supposed to live with myself after that…? i’m never going to love again.”

they shuffle apprehensively on their seats, but still, they tell jungkook what he needs to hear since he won’t remember tonight’s events, anyway.

that’s not going happen. she just needs some more time. i’m sure she’s missing you too. everything will be okay.

but it’s been almost two weeks of radio silence. their flight is in nine days, drawing nearer and nearer as if it’s purposely taunting jungkook. everyone is thinking the same thing, and everyone is afraid to say it out loud.

—

it’s 7am when his work alarm goes off. with a disgruntled noise, a hungover jungkook drowsily drags himself out of bed, eyes still closed as he swings the bedroom door open.

“oing?” he creates a noise of confusion when his arm bumps against an object. he blinks at the brown paper bag hanging on his doorknob, removing one of the handles to peek at its contents.

he buffers for a moment, staring blankly at his belongings safely tucked inside. there’s his black mini bluetooth speaker, tinted lipbalm, wired earphones, bucket hat, facial cleanser, moisturizer, and shampoo. these are everything he left on top of your study desk and in your bathroom. neatly folded on the side is his windbreaker, which he recalls as clear as daylight, how you reveled in its comfort the last time that you were together. the fabric softener you use has replaced his perfume, the cherry scent forming a rain cloud of nostalgia and longing above his head.

if this is a nightmare, he is begging for somebody, anybody, to break into the room and to bring him someplace where hope is not desolate.

his wounded heart, as his namjoon-hyung described, is experiencing an excruciating pain he never even imagined was possible. he now understands, why the broken heart syndrome is a real thing.

he can’t read you. is this your way of ‘reaching out’? have you kicked him out of your house, out of your life? for good?

the dread of losing you forever is gnawing at his insides. nausea almost succeeds in knocking him off his feet. his brain hisses with static. he panics at the disgustingly familiar sensation brewing in his digestive system, sprinting to the bathroom to spill out his guts.

they say that you don’t realize what you have until you lose it. that early morning, jungkook realizes that he’s only a human being after all.

—

“when did i put that there?”

you’re sorting out your dirty laundry after showering when you notice a tissue paper tucked in the front pocket of your denim jeans. you huff out a sigh, ripping it apart into tiny pieces over the trash bin with raging vexation. you will never understand how men thinks that these kind of stupid tricks are supposed to compel you into seeing them anywhere near attractive and desirable in your eyes. if anything, they make you feel unsafe and if your paths cross again, you will run the other way. great. another person in the lecture room to avoid. just fucking great.

at this point, you want to mockingly laugh at your own misery. just when you thought your day couldn’t possibly get worse, it fucking does.

you tuck yourself in bed by midnight, texting a friend about your joint presentation next week, and then rereading your conversation with namjoon from this morning for the nth time. you’ve been hoping it will shine light on the right path to take, because you’re still lost and hurt.

Namjoon:

he’s been devastated since

can’t this be sorted out?

stuff’s just been overwhelming and honestly i’m as anxious as him

i'm not trying to force you into getting back together with him ofc but please talk for closure atleast..

you’re also my friend. i think you need it too..

you scroll a bit further down afterwards, and your heart drops to your stomach when you see the three dots under the contact name ‘my jungkook’. you click on it as it beckons you to, only to allow time to flow like a river with no sea to kiss, idly watching the bubble appear and disappear, appear and disappear. almost everyday, you catch a glimpse of him at the very least, typing a message and never sending it.

the same goes for tonight, it seems.

his silence is torturing you. in the car, in your inbox, in your call history. a person knocks on the door and a part of you foolishly predicts that it’s jungkook not using his copy of the key out of respect.

you succumb to the yearning, heading to your shared media and files that you’ve been actively resisting for the past three weeks… for this exact reason.

you randomly click a video sent by jungkook three months ago.

“i know you’re in class but i’m too excited to show what i got you today!” he beams at the front camera, bunny teeth cutely showing. he picks up the first item from the hotel bed with his free hand. “you already own this book but this one got a different cover, see? it’s hardback? they say it’s a limited edition.”

he eyes it fleetingly, obvious that there is something else he is dying to mention.

“i won’t show it too close. you can look at it when i go home. there’s a little surprise inside.”

he scrunches his nose before teasingly sticking his tongue out.

“and then here we haaave-”

following that, he shows you an adorable fluffy white bunny with red eyes. it occupies more than half the screen, and without a doubt, it is soft and huggable.

“cooky’s new sibling! we found it at a gift shop and hobi-hyung said it looks like me.”

he presses his cheek to the bunny’s. “i accept. we do look alike, but my eyes are so much bigger.”

in the upcoming seconds, the video is muted except for his breathing. he plops down on the bed while ruffling his dark hair, staring at the camera wordlessly, evocative of when you catch him dreamily watching you study while you’re on a videocall.

“i miss you.” he smiles sadly, deep dimples appearing on his cheeks. “don’t forget to text me when you’re on your way home.”

he drops on his back, the firm mattress breaking his fall.

“mmmwah!“ he kisses the camera, and your screen freezes on the final frame.

the silence in the aftermath is defeaning. you tear your glasses off your face, burying your face in the pillows. you arrive at your final decision then and there. you don’t care. you don’t care. you don’t care anymore. you cannot bear to spend more of your days like this. his things that used to live here might be gone, but you look for him everywhere. you look for his car in the parking lot. you look for his hair when you see flowers. you wait for his name to be called in the coffee shop. on your way home, you linger at the playground where you used to usually meet.

because if your relationship with jungkook is truly doomed to fail, you want to watch its foundation collapse on the ground, burnt down to gray and black ashes that disintegrate when you try to grasp them in your hands… with good grace, it’s the only way for you to believe that there’s no more home to come home to.

with a trembling hand, you press the call button and for the very first time, you beg someone to stay.

—

jungkook’s breathing ceases, heartbeat violently racing in his chest. the ‘chimes’ ringtone tickle his ears, his phone vibrating incessantly in his hands. the two features he specifically customized in your contact settings so he will immediately recognize that it’s you who’s calling.

it’s been four days since you dropped off his things. and here he was, laying on his bed and struggling to find the right words to say because he refuses to believe that this is how it ends. the paper bag is still hanging on the doorknob. he hasn’t touched it since the first time. he doesn’t have the courage to do so.

fuck giving you space. he wants drown himself in you and never come up for air. he’s more than willing to suffer your anger or your coldness. he’s prepared to prove himself worthy of a second chance every second of every day. he wants to occupy half of your desk and half of your closet again. he selfishly wishes to be the first and the last person you fall in love with.

but until the very end, you’re the braver one.

“love?” your voice is quiet, barely audible, but it’s there, and he hears the affectionate term of endearment distinctly. “i’m sorry. i tried, i really did, but i couldn’t do it…”

“baby,” he falters breathlessly, half of him in disbelief, convinced that he has officially lost his goddamn mind and delusion is bleeding into reality.

“i tried living without you like you wanted- but i can’t-” you hiccup in between small sobs on the other line. “i love you, jungkook. i can’t live carrying around all this love with me. it’s too heavy…”

exploding and breaking apart, jungkook’s heart is a meteor that has entered the planet’s atmosphere, and he doesn’t know where to begin digging for the fragments so he can piece himself together again.

“we are too young and we don’t know what the fuck we’re doing and i love you too much. you don’t have to protect me… i’ll take my fair share of the responsibility, so just-” he hangs on your every word, and then you pause, your following words eliciting a powerful punch to his gut. “just let me love you and let me learn my lesson the hard way… let’s do that, okay?”

the walls of him room ebbs and flows in like the sea. he rests his forearm over his eyes, his skin gradually dampening with tears. he once promised himself that he would never put you in this position. he should be the one begging for forgiveness, repenting and crawling on his knees. but rather than wasting his time with surfing through another tsunami of self-blame, he reminds himself: i want to be a better man.

“okay, baby. let’s do that, hmm? let’s do that. it’s what i want too.” he coos softly with a hoarse voice. “are you at your apartment?”

you hum in confirmation, sniffling. “come home.”

—

a half-naked jungkook abruptly opens the door to yoongi’s room, wearing gray sweatpants with his left arm awkwardly inserted in one of the black t-shirt’s armhole.

“hyung! can i borrow your car? mine’s getting a check-up.”

yoongi tears his eyes away from the computer, hanging the black headphones on the nape of his neck. he merely shrugs before throwing the car key, and jungkook catches it in one hand with ease.

he sighs in relief, politely bowing his upper body to express his gratitude. “thank you, hyung.”

“what are you doing?!” yoongi half-smiles with fondness, jokingly waving him off. “just go- go. leave!”

—

jungkook nervously stands before your front door, head woozy with anticipation and fear. what if things have changed? what if your relationship never goes back to the way it was?

“oh. you’re back together?”

he whips his head back to find your neighbor arriving home from his part-time job. huh, he just realized that he has never really learned what his name is. the only information he has on him is that his sister owns a bee farm.

“how did you even know?” he asks with knitted eyebrows. “you haven’t been giving out honey again, have you?”

“she only accepted it once.” the stranger puts his arms up in surrender with a roll of his eyes. “and don’t make her cry again, will you? she blasts sad songs late at night.”

and with an unpleasantly forceful shut of the door, jungkook is left alone in the hallway. his jaw clenches as he glares at the next apartment, but he rubs his face to release his frustration before he goes to meet you.

“we need to move in together.” he grumbles to himself as he enters your unit, relocking the door behind him. he removes his sneakers, neatly setting them down beside your pairs of shoes by the doormat.

he pads on the wooden floor with his white toe socks, looking around the dark and quiet living room. a faint orange light is seeping under the gap between the floor and the bedroom door, which he recognizes to be your favorite mode on your multi-colored nightstand lamp. he cautiously cracks the door open, and he is instantly greeted by your curled up figure, peacefully sleeping.

it’s muscle memory when he hangs his backpack on the backrest of your study chair before anything else. he also brought the paper bag you sent, putting it down on the floor.

he squats down infront of you, lightly prying away the phone you’re hugging to your chest and placing the device on the bedside table. the light is shining over your skin, and there are a thousand of photos and videos organized into the most treasured folder in his gallery, but not a single one of them will ever do you justice.

god, he missed you so much. it hasn’t been two years, but the life he had before he met you feels like an extremely distant memory.

he sighs, talking in hopes that he appears in your dreams. “how do you do this? you make it impossible not to love you.”

he unconsciously frowns at the sight of your puffy eyes. never again. never again. never again. he chants inside his head. he plants a kiss on each of your eyelids, taking his time to bask in the feeling of your weight under his lips.

he climbs on the opposite side of the bed, tucking you underneath the blanket before securely holding you from behind with his thigh hanging over yours. the warmth of your body and the scent of your shampoo cures the headache that’s been bothering him the whole day. he drifts off to sleep soon after.

—

the feather-light brushes through the silky locks of his hair pulls him out of his slumber half an hour later. he can make out your silhouette through his half-open eyes, the little-mermaid-like scene feels too vivid for a dream.

“why didn’t you wake me up?” you whine, sulking with a pout.

“i’m sorry.” he answers quietly, sitting up to engulf you in a tight embrace as endless apologies tumble from his tongue. “i’m sorry. i’m sorry that i gave up. i’m sorry that i hurt you. i’m so sorry… are you angry at me?”

“i’m upset.” you admit after a few beats, not seeing the point in sugarcoating it. “it hurts when i remember you saying that. and i understand you but… but i don’t like that you decided alone for us. if you do that again… then it will be over between us.”

he has an arm wrapped around your waist, his other hand firmly holding the back of your head. it’s a little hard to breathe, but it’s so reassuring to feel that he doesn’t want to let you out of his embrace. because you hated it — hated how it felt like letting you go was so easy.

“i regret everything. i’m sorry.” he whispers, concealing his tears by nuzzling his face on your neck. “and you’re not a burden. that’s not true.”

he knows that you mean your every word, so he lifts up his head to gaze directly into your eyes, showing that he is as sincere and true to his.

“from now on, all i’ll think about is what i can do to make you happy and safe without compromising our relationship… i’ll do better. i’ll love you better. i promise that i’ll be stronger for us. i won’t make the same mistake twice.”

you wish jungkook could be kinder to himself, treat himself with the same gentleness that comes so naturally with you. why is it that humans find loving themselves so laborious? why does being have to come with such a curse?

taking glimpses at the past, you should’ve been reminding him of these affirmations everyday.

“you don’t have to be strong all the time. i’m not asking for that.” you shake your head, voicing out yourself in a tone so soothing and illuminating. “i don’t want to go anywhere far away from you so think of yourself, too. i told you before, it’s okay to hold on to me. i’m also strong.”

jungkook feels so safe at home. he doesn’t remember what he was so worried of anymore.

“and you know what? if you really see it that way, then i’m telling you now. i want to waste my time on you. you can’t stop me.” your threatening eyes widen in conviction, provoking a sheepish smile to tug at the corners of his lips. “i always get what i want.”

“and you want me?” he innocently points at himself.

“love you.”

“i love you.” he replies, nosing at your neck before leaving a chaste kiss on your skin. “so much.”

“then put yourself in my shoes.” you hum, combing his hair with your fingers, lightly tugging to initiate eye-contact. “i want to take care of you just like how you want to take care of me. i think we have something rare and beautiful…” you pause, self-conscious about coming across as too needy now that you’re face-to-face, but an epiphany shatters your apprehension with a bow and an arrow.

this is what he needed to hear from you that day.

“so stay with me.”

jungkook’s vision becomes unfocused. he’s speechless; the only sound in the room is the humming of the airconditioner, but it’s almost as if you can hear the gears of his brain working their hardest. the pain that glossed his enchanting doe eyes has been replaced with a devotion you’ve never seen expressed so passionately in them before.

“all the time i own is yours.” he declares, cupping your face, the pad of his thumb daintily stroking your cheek. “all of it. we can do anything you want to do. let me make it up to you.”

“anything?” your face lights up with joy and mischief, and the butterflies in jungkook’s stomach come alive. he wants to make it his life’s mission to make you smile everyday; and that, he will do. “then i want you to kiss me.”

the sultriness of your enticing voice makes him go haywire. it’s been too damn long. he has forgotten what it feels like to kiss you. he slowly inches closer, his lips brushing against your lips before he pulls you in deeper, a fervent display of his yearning and apologies. he swallows the needy moan that escapes you as he slowly lays you down on the mattress, stripping off his shirt and mindlessly tossing it somewhere when you impatiently tug at it with another whimper. you cage his face in your hands, bringing back his lips on yours as if he’s the air that you breathe.

he wants to grieve for all the wasted time because everyday, he craved for this. to be honest, he forgets his name when he’s kissing you. outside, the crowds scream his name for being the best at what he does best, and he happily lives for the euphoria of it all. but in this room, there is only you and him. you communicate using the unspoken language of love with your lips. you bare the soft animal in yourselves with your teeth sinking in the other’s skin. you allow your rawest desires and truths to unravel with a slip of the tongue. he exists beyond his name, becomes an indecipherable enigma even to himself. what is the use of an explanation if there is no meaning anyway? all he knows is that he loves you despite all the reasons, against all the reasons.

he sneaks under your shirt, fingertips teasingly exploring your skin as if he’s drawing a map. he feels you quiver when he finally reaches your chest, gently kneading the soft flesh in his palm. this makes you mewl in pleasure, arching your back as your hand unconsciously curls around his wrist, the cotton fabric separating the two of you. the action electrifies jungkook, makes him lose himself a little more, which he didn’t think was still possible.

“touch me, please- jungkook. need you-” you choke out a desperate whimper, nearly sobbing as you guide his hand between your thighs. you can’t bear to spend another second untouched; the last time you made love feels like an eternity ago. he slips past the waistband of your underwear, the only article of clothing you’re wearing below. but to your disappointment, he gently caresses your hip bone instead of dipping his long fingers into your wetness.

“shh, hold on, baby-” he forces himself to break away from the kiss, swollen and red lips glistening with spit. “baby, look at me. you didn’t drink, right? i don’t want to take advantage.”

you gape at him with your chest heaving up and down, dumbfounded. “how could you even think of that right now?”

his eyes widen in panic, worried that he might’ve offended you. “no, no, no-” his palms skim your thighs, guiding them to wrap around his slim waist. you gasp when he presses up on you and his hard length rubs on your folds, sending jolts of electricity up your spine. a gush of arousal dampens the thin material covering your center.

“i want you so fucking bad that it hurts.” he gingerly wipes away the tears that you didn’t even notice streamed down to your temples. you can’t remember the last time you cried before today, they must’ve gotten tired of asking for your permission. “but you were crying when you called, baby. i had to make sure.”

“oh, my boyfriend is such a gentleman.” you muse dreamily. pepper his face with delicate kisses, lips curving upward with an adoring smile. “look at him enjoying my kisses.”

you playfully squeeze his cheeks together, making his pillowy lips pucker.

“you really wanted to break up with me in this case, huh? you wanted to live without me and my kisses? no way.”

his eyelids flutter open, and he shakes his head as he dips down to kiss you. “it was hell without you…” his teeth captures your bottom lip, nipping at the supple flesh. “going to build a life with you. i’ll build furniture, and they’re going to be ours.”

“good. you better.” your high-pitched giggles bounce off the walls as his lips trail down to your neck, licking a bold stripe over your ticklish spots. “i don’t have the patience for it, but i’ll be your trusty assistant.”

it’s ridiculous, how even the sound of your laughter turns him on even more.

—

jungkook learned that you finished your exams yesterday, having spent majority of the past two weeks pulling all-nighters to prepare for them. you seem to be confident about the results, the way you talked about it without concern. he never once doubted that you’re resolute and persevering, but acing your exams in the middle of a breakup is beyond what he can digest. it must’ve been a grueling experience, he can only imagine.

he presses a sweet kiss to your forehead, and then your lips, before dragging the blanket higher over your naked figure, a thicker one he brought out from the cabinet. poor thing, you fell asleep on his lap while he was drying your hair, incoherently murmuring about how tired you are.

he walks to your study space, fixing the loosening towel wrapped around his waist. one by one, he pulls out the items from the paper bag, returning them to their old places on your desk. he toothily grins at the windbreaker, ecstatic due to his plan on wearing it at work today. he wants to give it back to you smelling like him again.

an index card lands on the ground when he unfolds it, making him peer down in curiosity.

“what’s this?” he mumbles, bending down to pick it up.

jumbled thoughts. a letter shoved at the back of the mailbox. a hesitant confession. a bittersweet reminder that says: a wound does not magically disappear overnight. it requires the proper treatment to heal correctly, and even then, it might still leave a scar.

These are only a few of many. Why is this the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do? I’m usually the more logical one. Was it really so bad that we weren’t going anywhere?

and messily crossed out at the end,

I miss you.

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask / dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook one shot #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook au #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut

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yoongifis · 2 years

Text

💌 “fxck a fxckboy!" | myg

where you sort of hooked up with one of the school’s biggest fuckboys but end up leaving him hanging and never contacting him because…well…why not? somehow the universe brought you two together and now you’re left with dealing with him because he apparently caught feelings for you.

; pairing: flirty/smartass!y/n x fuckboy!yoongi

; warnings: ass grabbing, ass slapping, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, fingering, creampie, cock warming, blowjobs, breastplay, mention of sex toys, mention of masturbation, usage of mature words, some dirty talk, jealous yoongi (my fave hehe)

; genre: smut (18+), pwp (?)

; wc: 11k+ (the most i’ve ever written 🤯 sorry hehe)

a/n: fuck fuckboys or fuck a fuckboy? 🫣 honestly really wanted to write something for that pic of yoongi (jeeeesus😮‍💨) and thought “yeah i think he should be a fuckboy or something” lol…also peep the namaikizakari pic heheh—one of my favorite mangas!! 🫶

He led you to his bedroom in his currently empty but shared apartment he lived in, your soft hand in his.

The two of you had just gone back from the bar, the two of you slightly tipsy—more him than you. You didn’t drink much compared to him. You knew your limits and you made sure that you stayed away from being severely, passed out drunk. To keep things short, you both had shitty days and you both just wanted to let it all out with a little one night stand—no biggy, right? But who would've thought that you would be doing a quick fuck with the one an only Min Yoongi, a fairly popular boy at your university who’s only interested in just fucking without any feelings. You could probably answer your statement, actually: the man is just down to fuck anyone he sees. You’ve heard it everywhere—all the little chitter chatter about him that goes around the school—he’s a man who doesn’t want to settle with one person. He wants a quick fuck, but never twice with the same person, and afterwards he won’t do anything else but sleep and ignore you as you leave.

He guides you over to his bed, making you sit on the edge while he goes ahead and locks the door from behind.

It’s not everyday where you get this sort of chance, so before you gave into coming to his place to hook up with him, you decided that you wanted to toy with him a bit—have him remember who you are.

He walks slowly over to you, scanning your body up and down as he licks his dry lips.

“Mm, so what’s your plan?” You hum, looking up at the tall man who stood in front of you. He’s bringing up a hand to twirl the loose strand of your long hair around his finger.

He smirks, removing his finger from your hair and taking his thumb and index finger to hold your chin.

“I figured it was kind of obvious with what’s going on, no?”

You snort at his remark, gently grabbing his arm by the wrist to pull his hand away from yours.

“I’m well aware of the game you play, Min, and obviously I’m completely up for it. But how about we change it up a little—let me take control this time?” You bat your long eyelashes at him, giving him a sweet and innocent look on your face. You release your grip around him, brushing your fingers up and down his forearm before placing your hands back in your lap.

Yoongi scoffs with a smile on his face, amused with your offer.

“Sure, princess. But if it gets bad, I’m gonna take over.”

You place a hand on his stomach, gently pushing down on him to get him to move back, which he does. You stand up in front of him, spin the two of you around and push him over again to make him sit on the edge of the bed.

“Alright,” you hum, now looking down at him.

His hands instinctively reach out to you to caress your curves, but you’re quick to give him light slaps to his hands to prevent him from doing so.

“We’ll go over some rules—one of them being no touching unless I say so. Two, I don’t like to kiss on the lips if I’m just doing a one night stand—.”

“—Pfft,” he cuts you off, “that’s stupid. But you’re willing to have sex?”

“I think kisses are more intimate and they deserve to be used in a place where feelings are there.”

He thinks to himself for a second, quietly considering your comment.

“I guess you can think that way, princess.”

You roll your eyes at him, removing your black leather blazer to reveal the little black cropped tank top and your short black miniskirt a little better.

God, he was drooling over you. Every curve of you looked absolutely delicious—he had to touch you but, of course, he wasn’t allowed to. He was even able to see your hardened and pierced tits through your shirt, which made him chuckle a bit. He was too excited to see them.

“No bra? Is that all for me?” He grins, licking his lips again.

You lean over, your face coming closer to his as you ignore his words. He was ready for you to just plant one on him, so he instinctively closed his eyes. You place your head on the side of his, lightly giggling at him.

“Cute,” you mumbled near his ear, making him immediately open his eyes, all embarrassed. Your hand slides into the front pocket of his button up shirt, taking out a large handkerchief. You pull away, looking back at him with a cheeky smile. “I was surprised to see that you had one of these in your pocket. It’ll be handy for today.”

Yoongi raises his eyebrow at you, unable to put one and one together.

“Last rule is that you’ll be blind folded until I say so. If any rules are broken, I’ll stop and leave.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“Should I just get going now?”

His dark eyes scan you up and down again, undressing you in his mind. You stood there in your all black outfit, playing with the long handkerchief by loosely wrapping it around your hands. You looked heavenly, it was screwing up his thoughts.

“Fuck,” he swears under his breath.

Something in him was also telling him to give this a try—see if he’s into it or not. It wouldn’t hurt to try, would it?

“I’ll play along with your little game, princess.”

“Great,” you hum with a smile on your face.

—

It didn’t end the way the two of you (possibly him more) wanted it to be.

Spoiler alert—you ended up leaving him while you were in the middle of teasing him, your hand wrapped around his long and hard cock, making him desperate for more of your touch.

Of course he was absolutely furious with you leaving him without having the chance to get to his release or even fuck you. You didn’t care, though. It wasn’t your problem anyways. He broke the rules and you left just like that—exactly what you told him before you started.

You kind of already expected Yoongi to slip and end the night short. All he wants is his dick to be wet—and you didn’t want to fall into that trick of his. Instead, he fell right into your trap—all left with blue balls and not a single taste of you.

Now, it’s not like you hate him or anything. It’s more like you wanted to teach him a little lesson. This whole thing was never planned ahead, of course—you just got lucky enough to come in contact with him on one of those rare days where you actually decided to go out for a drink.

You internally laugh to yourself, barely focusing on what you’re doing behind your laptop.

“Y/n, how about we take this get together to my apartment? I can feel myself trying to fall asleep. I’ve been awake since 5 in the morning.”

You look over to the boy, watching him rub his eyes with the back of his hands and then stretching afterwards.

You chuckle at him, agreeing with his idea before the two of you start packing up and heading out of your school library.

The universe is actually pretty crazy. Or perhaps you’re just really lucky because who would’ve thought you’d be here again in the same apartment that you were in a while ago. However this time you’re here with Yoongi’s roommate, Hoseok—your classmate that you’ll be working on a project with.

You’re carefully scanning the place again as you enter, not being able to recognize a thing in the living room since you barely had a chance to look around the last time.

“Don’t worry, no one’s here right now. I think my roommate is out right now.”

You nod your head, somewhat hoping that you get to leave before Yoongi makes it back home.

“Make yourself at home, y/n! Don’t be shy! Grab some water if you want. I’m just going to use the restroom real quick!” He doesn’t let you answer as he scurries over down the hallway. Dropping your stuff down on the couch, you make your way towards the kitchen.

You were opening each cabinet one by one, in search of some cups. Honestly, you couldn’t care less if they were glass, plastic, or paper at this point since you still weren’t able to find any. Hoseok wasn’t that descriptive—matter of fact he didn’t really tell you—where things were, so it just looks like you're ransacking his kitchen.

Squatting down, you look in the cabinets of their kitchen island. Rummaging through things until you find the stupid cups.

“Hoseok, what’re you makin’?”

You froze in your stance, the two glass cups in your hands. The voice you heard was definitely not your classmate’s. It was lower, a bit gravelly as if they just woke up. This was most definitely the one and only Min Yoongi. Of course, the universe made you lucky enough to meet him again.

You muster up the courage, mentally slapping yourself to gain some more confidence to face him again. You slowly stood up, placing the glass cups on the countertop.

He looks up at you with a raised eyebrow, rubbing his eyes again to make sure that he wasn’t seeing things.

A lopsided smile grows on his face, as he moves closer to rest his arms on the counter.

“Back for a redo? Did you miss me or something?”

You snort, amused with the words that came out of his mouth. He definitely didn’t learn anything with your so-called “experiment”. Since you were already in this position, you made a quick decision to keep toying with him until he’s at his limit.

“Of course not. I’m here for your roommate.”

His sleepy eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets, his neck slightly extended forward.

“My roommate? Hoseok? You’re about to go fuck that guy right now?”

Before you could answer, you were immediately cut off. The two of your heads both looking over to see the owner of that voice.

“Ah! Hyung! You’re home?!” He’s looking at Yoongi, to you, and back to the boy as he mentally took in the situation. “I see you’re already introducing yourself to y/n! She’s in my biology class. I’ve got a project to do with her.”

You couldn’t tell if the air around you guys was awkward, uncomfortable, or very tense. Honestly, it didn’t bother you at all that you were seeing Yoongi again for a second time—more like it just caught you off guard that you were actually lucky to see him for a second time.

Yoongi takes a glance over at you again and then back at Hoseok, silently observing the two of you.

“Yeah,” he pauses, “I skipped class ‘cuz I wanted to sleep.”

The other boy nods to acknowledge his words and the room goes quiet again. You clear your throat to break up the silence and make way to the water dispenser to fill up your cup.

“Are you thirsty Hoseok? I’ll bring some water to the table if you want me to.”

“Ah, no I’m fine,” his voice sounded like it was getting further as he spun around to go sit back down in front of the coffee table.

“I’ll take a cup.” You hear the other boy’s low voice even closer to you than before, so you glance over your shoulder to see him now standing behind you, body leaned against the island of the kitchen.

Turning around with one full glass in your hand and the other on the counter, you shoot him a quick smile and ignore his request before you walk past him to head over to Hoseok. He scoffs, his eyes following your body and then his whole body turns to watch you sit your pretty ass right next to Hoseok—all giggly and shit.

Standing behind the kitchen island became his favorite place to be at whenever you came over. He pretends to be on his phone or laptop, clean a little bit, or even cook up a little snack and eat it there. If it’s not already obvious, Yoongi was solely there to see you. (And monitor whatever was going on between you and Hoseok.)

There has been zero progression between the two of you within the past few days and he was growing impatient. The way Hoseok has been having you all to himself was pissing him off. Were you really going to fuck his friend? But why not him? Why’d you have to play games with him and leave him high and dry with no care in the world?

It was also pissing him off that you weren’t all over him like how other girls are with him. I mean—you made it pretty clear to him that you knew what kind of guy he is and how you didn’t really want much to do with him. I guess seeing the attention being only on Hoseok made him a bit…jealous…

..Yeah

…he was jealous…

That’s something he rarely feels.

Hoseok takes another bathroom break which gives Yoongi the chance to steal you away and get the ball going between the two of you. He quickly grabs his math textbook, a piece of paper, and a pencil from his desk in his room and sits right next to you on the couch with the sides of your thighs and arms both touching each other. Your head immediately turns to him, watching his movements with a raised eyebrow. He puts his textbook on top of Hoseok’s, flipping to a random page and points at a problem.

“Teach me how to do this,” Yoongi mumbles, eyes only on you and not whatever he was pointing at.

You look at him, a little thrown off. You glance over at the book and quickly scan the text, trying to see if you could actually help him at all.

“Calculus? You’re in calculus?”

He silently nods his head, patiently waiting for you to do something.

“I’m not really the best at math, but I can tell you what I know and maybe you could try to put things together with your knowledge?” You didn’t even bother to look up at him, pulling the textbook more towards you so that you could read the problem again.

All you did was talk him through the problem and explain what some things are, but none of it managed to stay in his brain when all he was focusing on was your voice. God, he could listen to you for hours.

He was scribbling stuff on his paper, working out the problem as you softly spoke to him.

“Ah, hyung—! You’re working on homework?!”

You immediately stood up from your spot, moving over to the side a bit to give Yoongi some space until you felt a grip around your wrist. You feel him pull you back down, making you sit right next to him with the side of your body touching his.

“You’re fine where you’re sitting,” he says in a low voice, head leaning closer to your ear.

Hoseok observes the two of you, getting a gist of what’s going on. He doesn’t sit down next to you like you thought he would, instead he starts walking away again, leaving you confused.

“I forgot—I have to make a phone call real quick.”

“Since when do you make phone calls?” You retort.

“Y/n, I’m a busy man. Don’t worry about it.” His eyes go from you to Yoongi, wiggling his eyebrows at him. You turn to look at Yoongi, watching the way he glares at Hoseok.

Yoongi blankly stared at him, not giving a fuck about whatever Hoseok this or Hoseok that has to do. He turns to look at you again once the other boy is out of the room.

“Could you quit looking at Hoseok like that?”

“Like what?”

“You know already.”

You scoff with a laugh.

“Yoongi, be more specific with me. I can’t read your mind.”

“You give him the prettiest smile while batting those long eyelashes of yours—he’s gonna fall for you and I don’t want that shit to happen.”

The pout in his voice is noticeable, you found it cute.

“Why don’t you want it to happen? Didn’t I tell you I was coming for him next?”

He clenches his jaw, a firm line on his lips. Hearing that just pissed him off even more. Of course he would never want that. He wants you to himself, even though he can’t explain why he wants you so badly.

“You should be going for me. Not Hoseok.”

You force a fake smile on your face, placing a hand on his bicep. You gently rub your hand up and down before letting it sneak up to the back of his neck, pulling him closer to you. Your fingertips play with the ends of his long hair, slightly massaging the back of his head—doing all this just to tease him again.

“Yoongi, I’m not going to be one of your easy picks. You can look for another girl who can fulfill your needs.”

You’re about to remove your hand away from him until he grabs your arm and places it right on top of his shoulder where it rested before.

“I don’t want “another girl”, princess. My eyes are set on you.”

“All you want me to do is to get your dick wet and then you’ll just toss me like every other girl you've hooked up with,” you scoff.

“But if I don’t plan on doing that to you, then what?”

“You want a gold star for finally not thinking like a little fuckboy? Finally being a decent human being?”

He rolls his eyes, annoyed with the fact you were right. He is an asshole and he’s known to be that type of asshole. But he wasn’t going to be that asshole to you.

“Yoongi, how the hell am I supposed to trust you?”

“I can prove to you that I’m serious about you.”

“How can you be so serious about me when all we’ve done is hang out with each other once for a semi-hookup?”

“I guess you can call it love at first sight, doll,” he’s lazily smirking at you, a sight that makes you feel a little tingly inside.

You scoff again, hiding the little smile you had on your face from his stupid silly words. “Yoongi, you probably say that to every other girl just to convince them to hook up with you.”

“Alright, since you think all I do is think about sex, let's start by making it not about sex. I’ll go two weeks without masturbating or fucking any other women—which should be easy because all I want is you.”

There he goes again. He’s way too good at poking at your heart, making you feel something. God, you felt stupid but you can’t help but react that way.

You slowly move your arm off of his shoulder and slide your hand over to his chest, taking your index finger to play with the string of his hoodie by wrapping it around your finger.

“Make it four weeks.”

He’s taking one of his hands and gently sliding it over the side of your waist, caressing that area by moving his hand up and down.

“When did that hook up between us happen again?”

You furrow your eyebrows, thrown off by him asking this at this moment.

“2 weeks ago, I think?”

He’s smiling, leaning his head over to the side of yours, his breath tickling your ear.

“I’ve got two weeks left then, princess. You can ask Hoseok to confirm it if you want.”

You stare at him with a puzzled face when he pulls away from you.

“Hoseok knows when you jerk off?”

He lets out a low laugh, one of those throaty ones. You watch him as he smiles big with his teeth and gums all out.

“No—,” he chuckles, “he doesn’t. He knows that I haven’t been with anyone since I met up with you. I can confirm for myself that I haven’t jerked off at all these past 2 weeks—if that’s what you’re more worried about.”

You gently shove him away by the shoulders, annoyed by his teasing. But his grip around your waist tightens, and he’s pulling you closer to him.

“Alright, go ahead then.”

“Atta’, girl,” he hums, “but know that if I want something, I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure that I get it.”

To be completely honest (and kind of stupid to admit), you didn’t expect him to last this long. Hoseok knew about the deal that was going on and he always brought up the fact that Yoongi hadn’t been going out or seeing anyone whenever he saw you in class—kinda funny, right? He only had a day left and you were sure you were going to lose.

Now, instead of accepting defeat, wouldn’t it be better to spice things up before you could come to terms with losing?

You were chuckling to yourself as you took pictures of yourself as you laid in bed. You pressed your arms together, making your breasts look larger in your plain black bra. You couldn’t leave out the matching black, lacey thong you had on too, so you took a couple snaps from the front and the back. Soon enough, you were already pressing the red button on your phone screen. Legs spread out as you teased yourself on the outside of your panties, creating a little wet spot.

Sent.

You take another clip of you massaging your breasts, slowly pulling down on your bra to reveal your hardened and pierced nipples. You gently flick your nipples with the tips of your finger nails, grazing against them ever so lightly, making sure your video clearly captures your little whimpers.

Sent.

From your bedside drawer, you took out your pink dildo, recording another clip of you sucking on just the tip of it before bringing your head lower to lick a stripe from the bottom and back to the tip. Holding the toy by the base, you release the tip with a little ‘pop’, bringing that hand to slowly move it up and down.

Sent.

You knew he had to fold. He just had to do something. I mean, not to be so full of yourself or whatever, how else would someone react if they received explicit videos and pictures from a person they liked?

This just had to be one of your greatest plans. You were sure that Yoongi was going to lose. He just has to text you any second now—or even tomorrow morning. With that being said, you were able to sleep comfortably for the night.

The uneasiness of Yoongi not texting you started to grow when you saw no new messages on your phone when you woke up. It continued to grow little by little as hours passed by—still no response coming from him.

You eventually gave up on the thought of you almost winning once the clock struck about 11:40 pm.

It was most definitely over for you.

You just had to accept it.

Maybe you might’ve gone a little overboard—or a little too confident in yourself. You really thought he would take the bait.

“Hoseok, give me a second. I think someone’s at my door.” You glance up from your paper to look at him on your propped up phone.

“At this time?” He asks, concerned for your safety.

You shrug, not really giving the situation a thought.

“I’ll keep you on facetime but I’m muting you. Just keep an eye out for me if I don’t show up on your screen after more than 5 minutes.” You’re already reaching over to tap on the mute button and getting up from the floor before you stride towards your door.

You figured that it was probably your neighbors or some student from school. The apartment complex was primarily made up of students, so you were sure it had to be a student knocking. Honestly, you were used to the noisiness coming from outside, the occasional parties, or the ding-dong ditching that a little knock on the door at this time doesn’t really bother you.

You were met with another view—in fact, an insanely rare view—that you would have never expected. Standing face to face in front of you—with your oversized big shirt and skimpy panties underneath—was the one and only Min Yoongi.

He looks you up and down, a smug look appearing on his face. You look up at him with a raised eyebrow, slightly scoffing before turning around to your phone to unmute it and leaving the boy at the door.

“Never mind, Hoseok, it was nobody. Just give me a minute.”

You immediately muted your phone again once you heard the door being locked and a little chuckle.

“A nobody—hm,” he hums.

He sticks his hands in his pockets, slowly making his way towards you as he takes a couple glances around your apartment. He stops and stands in front of you, leaving a couple feet in between.

“Yoongi, what the hell are you doing here?

“The photos and videos you sent me.”

You smiled, but quickly dropped it. A bit excited to hear him finally bring up the topic you’ve been waiting for.

“Oh? Shit—I must’ve sent them to you by accident. They were for someone else.” You watch as one of his eyebrows furrowed together, clearly concerned with what you just said.

“Who?”

“Hoseok, of course.” You knew by saying this he would go mad—and that’s what you wanted to see. You wanted to push his buttons, make him frustrated with you, and see what he would do.

“And the outfit? You’re wearing that while you’re on facetime with Hoseok?”

“Well, yeah—wouldn’t it be easier to give him a little show this way?” You say teasingly.

After that being said, his whole demeanor shifts. He’s clenching his teeth, causing his sharp jawline to be more defined. His eyes on you felt heavier, as if they were burning holes into your own. His flirty, teasing self that he usually had on him was gone. The change slightly scared you, but you didn’t want to show him that.

He was mad.

He never wanted to hear that come out of your mouth ever again.

“Guess so?” Is all he says.

“Did you like the pictures at least?”

“Did I like the pictures?” He repeats, his tone strong.

He scoffs again, chuckling right afterwards.

The two of you turn to your phone when you both hear Hoseok calling out for you. Taking the phone in your hand this time, you unmute to quickly apologize to him. Before you know it, a pair of arms are wrapped around your waist and a head is resting on your shoulder.

“She’s busy, call later,” Yoongi mumbles, glancing over at your phone. You were too stunned to say something, his actions completely catching you off guard.

“Hyung?! There you fucking are! You could’ve told me where you were heading to before running out like that—.” Yoongi quickly hits the ‘end’ button before the other boy could keep going. He’s taking your phone away from your hands and tosses it over somewhere on your couch before his arms find your waist again.

“I didn’t like the answer I heard earlier,” he hums.

“Which one?”

You let out a little yelp when you feel him gently sink his teeth on your shoulder.

“Don’t play stupid with me, doll. You already know.”

“Ah,” you laugh a little awkwardly, “suddenly I do remember what you’re talking about.”

He snorts, rolling his eyes at your comment with a smile on his face.

“Were they really for him? Because I feel like they couldn’t be.”

“Why couldn’t they?”

It’s quiet for a second as he thinks to himself.

“You drive me crazy, you know that? You and that little attitude of yours—just makes me want to fuck it right out of you.”

He lowers his head closer to your neck. His lips lightly brush against your skin before he slowly kisses a line down your neck.

“Doubt you could.”

You keep your composure. Internally screaming at yourself that none of this was phasing you.

Because it definitely wasn’t.

Well, it shouldn’t—at least.

“Yeah? Should I try?”

He released an arm from your waist, his hand already creeping up underneath your baggy shirt. The rough pad of his fingers caressing your soft skin.

Butterflies.

It’s all you could feel at this moment.

He’s too smooth at this—that dumb, experienced but fine asshole.

You shouldn’t.

You really shouldn’t.

It was a bad idea—I mean, does this man actually have a drop of interest in you?

You turn around while in his hold, wrapping your arms around his neck. You’re massaging the back of his head with a hand, then play with the ends of his long, black hair. His hands rest on your waist.

“Shouldn’t you be doing this with a girl that you genuinely like?”

He looks at you with a raised eyebrow again, a face filled with disbelief. He scoffs, but a light chuckle comes out of his mouth right afterwards.

“You just really like to rile me up, don’t ya, princess?” He lowly mumbles.

“Yoongi—!” You yelp, holding onto him tighter.

He’s hooking his hands underneath your thighs, lifting you up and carrying you over to lay you on the couch. You remove yourself from him, allowing him to hover himself above you.

“I don’t know how clear you want me to be, but I feel like I made it pretty clear that I’m serious about you.”

“You think that not jerking off or not hooking up with random girls for a whole month is really proof that you’d change just for me?”

“Well, wasn’t that the deal?”

“I mean I accepted it because I felt bad and it just seemed like you really wanted to prove something to me.”

“Yeah—because you won’t believe me that I’m actually into you.”

“This feels like something you’d say to every other girl you hook up with.”

“God—will you quit bringing up other girls?! I couldn’t care any less about them if I have you in front of me.”

Butterflies. It’s the stupid butterflies again.

“Shut up,” you mumble, turning your face away from him to avoid his gaze.

A quick pause of silence. Not enough time to collect your thoughts.

“What? Did I get your heart to skip a beat? Is that why you won’t look at me right now?”

Without saying anything, you shook your head with your head still facing the other way.

“Cute,” he chuckles, his breath hitting your face.

You feel the weight of him above you disappear. His hands were wrapped around your ankles, tugging them towards him as he sat near your feet.

“At least look at me when I eat you out.”

“Shut up,” your face grows a shade of red out of embarrassment.

He couldn’t help but keep the teasing smile on his face. Yoongi positions himself that allows him to place your legs over his shoulders. He slowly lifts up your t-shirt that’s covering your lower half, leaning more towards your core.

“Such pretty panties,” he hums, “just for me to see, huh?”

“No,” you say without glancing down at him, “it was for Hoseok.”

With no warning, Yoongi’s taking his thumb to rub circles on the outside of your panties and against your clit. You slightly gasp in surprise, mumbling a “Yoongi, wait” under your breath.

“Of course you would say that. You really make me want to fuck that brattiness out of you. Turn you into a girl who wants just me—my girl.”

Lowering his thumb to where your hole would be at, he brings his face to your covered core and tries to bite on your covered nub but instead gently grazes his teeth against it. He takes his tongue and flattens it against it, making the fabric even wetter than before.

You gasp, immediately covering your mouth with your hands to stop yourself. You felt a shiver run down your spine, shots of electricity on the places he touches.

“Hmm, was that little gasp from me or him?”

You already knew you wanted to keep messing with him, make him mad just for fun. But before you could answer he’s already pulling your baby pink skimpy panties to the side, licking a long stripe from your hole to your most sensitive part.

“Ah—Yoongi!” You yelp with an airy voice.

He’s pulling back, chuckling, very happy with your answer.

“So sweet, princess. I think I’m gonna be addicted.”

The boy goes back to your heat, mouth going straight to your clit. He’s sucking on it, swirling his tongue around it as he does so. You remove your hands from your face, quickly bringing them to his hair. Your fingers get tangled in his long, black hair as you tug on him to bring his face closer to you. Yoongi laps up your essence that flows out of you, coating a little bit of his chin. You’re whining as he sloppily kisses your clit, feeling how wet you are from the mixture of his saliva and your own wetness.

You yelp again once you feel Yoongi’s thick, long finger slowly enter your hole.

“It just slid right in. Fuck—you’re so wet, baby.”

He hums against your clit, thrusting his finger slowly in and out of you, causing you to groan in pleasure.

“Yoon..gi—please—,” you whine with a choke, already feeling yourself go blank.

He’s already adding a second finger, curling it upwards and picking up the pace as he thrusts them into you.

“Fuck—pleasepleaseplease!!”

You didn’t know what exactly you were begging for, and neither did he. But it got him chuckling when he heard your little pleads.

“Cum on my face, baby, and I’ll give you whatever you’re asking for.” He places a couple kisses onto your inner thigh before he dives back into your pussy.

Your eyes are rolling back, your whole body feeling warm. Yoongi doesn’t waste any time on sucking on your little sensitive bead. Your body speaks for itself as loud squelching noises and your whimpers fill the room. He can feel you tightening around him already, a sign he knew that you were about to come undone. He’s plunging his fingers into you, making sure you’re fully taking them in. The slurping sounds and grunts he makes get louder, but not as loud as you were.

“Ah! Yoongi—!” You cried, digging the heel of your foot to his back, which allowed you to raise your hips up. He’s immediately pushing you back down, his free hand wrapped around your thigh in an attempt to stop you from moving.

“Cum,” he says, humming into your core, then immediately flicking his tongue against your clit.

Something in you snaps—it was as if he was able to control you, your legs start to shake as you finally cum on his fingers. He helps you ride out your high, slowly thrusting his fingers into you and moving his face to your inner thigh to pepper kisses onto it again.

“Good girl,” he coos, removing his fingers and lifting your legs off his shoulders to set them on either side of him. He watches as your breathing evens and your eyes flutter open. He’s rubbing circles with his thumb on top of your thigh as he holds onto them, enjoying this small moment.

“Use me like how you used that toy of yours in the photos and videos you sent me. Show me how you play with yourself, baby.”

“You’re too bossy.”

“But you like it,” he’s smiling, sitting against the armrest of the couch on the other side.

You sit up, closing your legs and tugging your t-shirt to show some modesty.

“Mmm, I do. But I think you’d like it even more if I was the bossy one.”

“Alright,” he chuckles, “go ahead and be bossy, princess.”

You carefully get up with wobbly legs and stand in front of the boy, who immediately turns his whole body so that he’s seated properly. You get on your knees and then sit on your heels, looking up at him with innocent yet slightly fucked-out eyes.

“I won’t be blindfolding you this time. But there’s still going to be no touching, so put your hands under your thighs and keep them there.”

He’s rolling his eyes with a small scoff.

“Not this shit again. You’ll leave me like last time.”

You laugh, giving him a gentle slap to his thigh.

“So do you not want me to do what I did in that video I sent you?”

He’s already shoving his hands under his thighs, impatiently waiting for you to start.

You start to pull down his sweatpants, along with his boxers and he helps you by lifting his bottom up. There you’re met with his hardened cock, sprung up and against his lower torso. Your hand immediately goes to the base of it to gently squeeze him, your fingertips barely able to touch. You glance up at him, carefully watching his strained face that’s asking for more.

You move your head closer, leaning in more a bit to gather up the saliva in your mouth and spit onto the tip of his cock. You slide your hand up and down to spread it around. Finally, you take your tongue and press it against his slit, your touch instantly making him hiss. Wrapping your lips around just the tip, you suck on it and swirl your tongue around the shape of it. He was on the thicker side, but with a decent length. You were unsure if you would be able to actually fit him in your mouth (or even in you), but nevertheless you were determined to make him cum even if you had to completely stuff him in your mouth.

Slowly, you push your head down on him. You begin to bob your head, taking him in little by little. Having him barely halfway in your mouth already verified that he was in fact pretty big. You used your hand to wrap around whatever else you couldn’t reach, pumping his cock at the same speed as your mouth.

“Fuck—,” he hissed, “don’t push yourself too hard, baby.” His teeth were clenched together, doing what he could to stop himself from groaning.

This was what he has been waiting for: to be intimate with you. It’s what he was anticipating at the beginning, but he feels that the wait for it was making this whole experience feel too damn good.

Yoongi’s throwing his head back, listening to the most vulgar sounds coming from you as you choked and gagged on his cock. He’s looking back at you, watching the way you took him in with tears running down your face.

What a fucking sight.

“Look at me, baby. Eyes on me,” his voice gruff.

You follow his directions, looking at him through your eyelashes and eyes all watery. Your eyebrows furrowed as you push yourself down on him more, a trail of saliva leaking out of the corner of your mouth.

“So pretty,” he grunts. The only thing that he was missing right now was his hands being all over you, but he wasn’t willing to take the risk and make things turn around like how it did the first time.

You pull away with a little ‘pop’, giving him a sweet and innocent smile before using the tip of your tongue to trace the long and bulging vein underneath his cock. Once you make it back to the tip, you stick out your flattened tongue. With your hand still on the base, you move his cock against your tongue, moving it side to side and then roughly hitting your tongue with just the tip before taking him in again. You hum around him and swirl your tongue around him as you quickly bob your head.

He lets out another strained groan, followed by a hushed mumble of your name. You wanted to get him to cum, to make himself lose control just like how he did earlier. However, giving him head and seeing the way he was right now was turning you on. You could feel yourself throbbing, selfishly wanting a little more. Yoongi, on the other hand, didn’t want to finish off in your mouth. He wanted to be inside you; he had to finish inside you.

“Fuck. I can’t do this.”

Yoongi quickly takes out his hands from under his thighs and removes you from him, halting your movements. Quickly, he stuffs himself back into his sweatpants. He’s lifting you up again, his arms under your thighs and his body pressed against yours. You hold him tightly around his neck, clinging on to him like you were a koala.

“Room. Tell me now.”

“The first door down the hallway on the right.”

He’s speeding his way down there, sitting down on the bed first while he is holding on to you. Yoongi lays back, scooting himself upwards so that his head is more on your pillows. He positions you to sit on his crotch, but you move back onto his thighs to prevent yourself from grinding on his hard-on.

He’s caressing your sides as the two of you look at each other, eyes filled with lust.

“Let me see you ride me like how you do with your dildo. I won’t touch you this time, I swear,” he’s putting his hands behind his head, “please, baby.”

He was desperate. Insanely desperate.

And he looks cute to you when he’s desperate. You couldn’t blame him for feeling that way because you were feeling the same. Without saying anything, you lift up your hips and hover above his thighs. You pull his hard cock back out of his pants, holding it up as you position yourself above it.

“Wait—condoms—damn it!” He mumbles, “I didn’t bring any because I wasn’t really expecting to go far.”

You watch him groan in frustration, clearly mad at himself.

“Fuck–sorry. I’ll go buy some. I think I saw a gas station down the road? Just–fuck–please don’t lock me out, y/n.”

He finally looks at you, eyes met. He looked desperate. Absolutely desperate.

You’re biting your bottom lip out of habit, quietly thinking to yourself. You let go of his cock, allowing it to hit his lower stomach. You place yourself on top of it, your wet, bare folds against the length of his cock.

“Am I going to be the last person you’ll ever be fucking?”

You move your hips, gently grinding yourself against him to rile him up a bit, causing him to swear under his breath.

“You’re the only girl I ever want to fuck.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes with a smile on your face.

“I better be.”

He’s chuckling now, a big lopsided smile plastered on him, and a little less tense.

You’re raising your hips again, grabbing his thick cock and placing it under you. With your panties pushed to the side, you drag the tip of his cock against your wet folds, causing you to clench around nothing. The excitement and nervousness was causing you to shake a little, and he was immediately able to notice it. He grabs you by your wrist, your eyes follow along his arm and fall onto his face.

“If you don’t want to do this, don’t force yourself, okay?” He’s looking at you, his eyes soft and concerned for you. A whole different side to him.

You smile at him, leaning over to place a kiss on his lips—completely forgetting your meaning behind kisses and catching him off guard.

“I want this as much as you do.”

He’s looking at you, nodding his head with a dazed look, questioning his whole existence.

Did this mean…? Or was it an accident?

He still shouldn’t try to initiate another kiss from you—what if you just leave him again?

…Right?

Before he could get his thoughts together, he was already feeling your pussy wrap around the top portion of his cock. You’re letting out a whine as you slowly ease yourself down on him, just like you would with your toy. Yoongi hisses at you tightly squeezing onto him—god it was making him go insane.

“Y-yoongi,” you gasp, “t-too bi-g!”

You stay still on top of him, squeezing onto him uncontrollably as you wait for yourself to get used to him. Having him inside you definitely confirmed he was on the thicker side; it immediately had you rolling your eyes back at how full it made you feel. Although you weren’t moving, you were a little noisy—little mumbles of swears and his name or airy whines. It turned him on a lot, and it took a lot in him to not take over right now.

“Good girl,” he grunts, eyes focused on the look at your face. “You take me in so good.”

Your face felt hot, your mind was fogging up. The feeling of being stuffed was too good, but you were wanting something more. Your hips, as if you had no control over them, started to grind against Yoongi’s. You lean back, holding yourself up by placing your hands on top of Yoongi’s thighs. Your mouth hangs open as your hips move in circles.

“So pretty, baby,” he coos.

His eyes couldn’t leave at the view of your pussy sucking him in. It’s like you didn’t want him to ever remove himself from you. He takes his hand to move the front part of your panties to the side, exposing more of you. He brings his thumb to his tongue and gives it a little lick before bringing it back to you. He presses his thumb against your swollen and sensitive clit, drawing circles around it.

“Yoongi!” You squealed, your hips stuttering.

“Keep moving baby, you can do it.”

You’re begging for who knows what and mumbling his name in between. The sweetest moans and whimpers escaping your mouth was all music to his ears. He could listen to this all day.

The sight of you nearly losing yourself from his cock, how noisy you were from just barely grinding on him—Yoongi loved it all.

Fuck, he really loved it all.

He craved for more, though. This wasn’t enough.

“God, I can’t hold back. I’ve got to kiss you.”

He’s extending his arm out to you, placing his large hand behind your neck, pulling you closer to him. You press your body against him as you lay on top of him. Your lips immediately find his. He’s kissing you with hesitation, afraid of you pulling back and ending it all. But your arms travel to its way to wrap around his neck, holding him close to you. It gave him the sense that you were okay with this. Both of his hands slither to the sides of your ass, gripping onto them as he spreads them apart and slaps your ass with a loud smack. His hands end up resting on the top of your ass, guiding you up and down as you bounced on his cock.

You’re groaning in pleasure, head going blank. He was kissing you as if he wanted to make sure he memorized every curve of your lip, the way your tongue felt as it was trying to fight for dominance with his, and how it felt too good to suck on your tongue to get a moan out of you.

He’s already pulling away, but your body didn’t want him to stop.

“Yoongi—,” you whimper with a pout on your lips, eyes glassy, “—more please.”

“More what, baby?”

“Just kiss me again, please–,” you whine.

He thought he was going absolutely insane.

Just those few words made his chest feel so heavy.

While keeping one hand on your ass, he takes the other and brings it to the back of your head, crashing your lips against each other. You keep yourself there, his hand moving back to your ass to help you move down on him as his hips continue to thrust upwards into you.

You’re moaning loud. Way too loud. And all he could do was swallow your moans—tongue exploring all over the inside of your mouth— or press his lips hard against yours. You part away from his lips, burying your face against the crevice of his neck.

“Yoongi—ah-,” you squeal, “fuck, please—!”

He’s chuckling at the way you weren’t making sense, mumbling anything that you could even spit out. It was cute—he was making you go dumb in the brain.

“You’re doing so good, baby—fuck,” his hold on your ass tightens, as he’s thrusting into you even harder.

He could feel your movements slowing, getting tired. It came to the point where you held your hips high while hovering over him, letting him thrust upwards as you’re leaning over and moaning into his neck.

With a couple more thrusts, he’s easily sliding out of you.

“Yoongiii—,” you whined, but he ignores it. Instead he’s sitting you two up, standing up and holding you up with his hands under your bottom, turning around and laying you on the bed this time. He pulls you down closer to the edge of the bed by your legs. You’re slowly pressing your legs together, missing him being in between you.

“Don’t leave,” you mumble softly with a pout on your lips. Your eyes glistening yet were filled with lust.

Yoongi’s eyes soften as he looks at you with adoration. He could feel his heart become fuller. And the urge to wrap his arms around you just to squeeze you tight become stronger.

Fuck—call him crazy because he must be really in love with you.

He had to make you his—it just felt right to have you.

He’s moving your legs to the side, allowing him to lean over and peck a soft kiss on your lips.

“I would never.”

Yoongi stands up straight, removing his hoodie and t-shirt to reveal his toned torso. He then sheds off his sweatpants and boxers, standing completely naked in front of you.

He’s tugging onto your panties, helping you remove them and tossing them somewhere in your room.

“This—,” he starts to push up your baggy shirt, “—off.”

You lift your arms and head up as he helps you get the shirt off of you, but your arms immediately fall on top of your breasts, covering them up.

His eyes roam around your body, taking mental photos for him to think about later.

“Don’t hide, baby,” he hums, taking his hands to pull your legs apart, exposing the lower part of your body. His hands go for yours, removing them from your breasts and pinning your hands above your head.

“Yoongi—!” You squeal.

“God, I’ve been waiting for these especially.”

He’s staring too hard at your perky, soft tits. A silver metal bar with two balls at the ends of it pierced right through both of your nipples. He knew you had them; he saw them right through your top the first time he met you. He just wanted to see it all underneath and in-person. Fuck, you were sexy. Too fucking sexy. Just looking at you makes him way too goddamn hard—he could probably just cum just like that. Even earlier with just your oversized t-shirt and your hair down, you were just as sexy.

He keeps one hand around your wrists and takes his free hand to your left breast, gently massaging it with your nipples in between his index and middle finger. He leans down to encase your hard nipple in his mouth, swirling his wet tongue around it, fiddling with the little piercing, before sucking on it.

You let out his name in an airy moan, arching your back instinctively. He releases you and moves his head higher, placing his lips on the soft skin of the upper part of your breasts, sucking and nibbling on it until it turns a nice shade of red.

“My pretty girl,” he’s mumbling against your skin.

He’s leaving a trail of kisses that lead to your other breast, switching hands so that he’s now groping the other breast he was just giving love to. Yoongi flattens his tongue against your nipple, allowing it to graze against it before he's using the tip of his tongue to draw circles around it. It seemed like it wasn’t much, but the sensations you were getting from it was just making you wetter. Your nipples were just so sensitive that your little moans and gasps were inevitable. Soon, he’s marking you up—a couple of love bites scattered around the flesh of your breasts.

“Yoongi—want your cock—please,” you mumble.

Pulling away, he looks at you—helpless and vulnerable underneath him. No bratty attitude or little unnecessary comments. Just you begging—wanting him and just him. It’s a sight he could definitely get used to.

He lets go of your wrists, but you keep them there. He’s grabbing his length, giving it a couple strokes before he runs the tip down your slit to collect your wetness, causing you to shiver.

“Anything for you, princess,”

He’s lining up himself in front of you, the tip slowly starting to sink in.

“Let me know if you want to stop–please. The last thing I want to do is hurt you,” he’s leaning over, head positioned next to your ear.

You nod your head, not trusting your mouth as he’s slowly sinking in. You’re scrunching your face, wincing a bit from still not being used to his size. He waits again for you to adjust again, making sure you’re doing okay.

He’s spreading your legs apart more, pushing your bent legs down to make more space. His hands rest on your waist, pulling back to slide himself out before going back in slowly. He was treating you as if you were fragile, his thrusts more gentle than how he was earlier. Despite how vocal you are with your little whimpers, it still wasn’t enough for you.

“Yoongi—more,” your eyes flutter open, “fuck me like I’m your slut.”

Your words threw him off, but it did manage to make him feel something.

He pulls all the way back and rams himself back into you with a hard thrust. You let out a loud moan of his name, eyes rolling back and closed shut. He keeps himself at a steady pace, making sure his thrusts are hard enough to get you to keep babbling nonsense.

“‘Like you’re my slut’, hm?” He’s chuckling, bringing his thumb to your bottom lip, tugging it gently. “Guess I forgot my baby likes being rough,” he starts to push him thumb into your mouth, your lips instantly wrapping around it.

“Suck.” He demands, and you do it shamelessly. Your hands go up to your breasts, cupping them underneath before massaging them.

He’s admiring the way you looked again—stuffed both ways. You’re making a mess around him and his thumb, while you were fondling your marked up tits, and your pussy just can’t help but keep sucking him right back in. Fuck. It’s heavenly.

“You look so pretty, princess. I want to be the only one who gets to see you this way.”

He’s snapping his hips harder, grunting with every move. He’s removing his thumb, but your mouth hangs wide open.

“Yoongi—fuck—ngh—!” You’re whining a lot, chanting his name as you beg for no reason.

“Yeah? Is my pretty slut going to cum?”

He brings his thumb to your clit, applying some pressure onto it before he starts rubbing it in circles. You were feeling lightheaded, vision blurry as tears started to form in your eyes. He thrusts into you as hard as he can, the sounds echoing off the walls.

“—Nnghh—Yoon—gi!” You choked.

He’s hovering over you, his free hand next to your head as it’s holding him up. Your thighs were almost pressed against your chest, sort of folding your body in half. This position allowed him to penetrate you even deeper, hitting you in all the right places.

“God!” He slams himself, beads of sweat dripping down his forehead, “fuck!”

Yoongi quickens his speed with his thumb on your clit, making you clench tightly around him. He knew you were about to come. He’s already memorized your signals from earlier. You were on the brink of doing so, and he was just about at his limit too.

“‘m gonna fill you up with my cum,” he growls into your ear, “sluts like you like that, huh princess?”

“Please—!” You squeak, “want it so bad!”

Fuck—that does it.

He just couldn’t say no to you.

He’s standing up straight, hands back on your waist to hold you steady. If it was even possible, he was drilling into you even harder and faster. Eager to get the two of you to cum. You grip onto his muscular arms, fingernails digging into his skin, arching your back. Your panting becomes louder, but the obscene, wet squelching noises start to drown your moans. The knot inside you was about to come undone, you just couldn’t handle it anymore. With another moan of his name—and a couple other words—, you finally reach your high, cumming on his cock.

Yoongi could’ve sworn you mumbled a little ‘I love you’ as you came undone. Triggering him to not be able to hold it in anymore. He stutters in his movements, taking a couple long thrusts before he releases load, painting the insides of your walls white.

He gives you a couple weak thrusts, wanting to keep his cum deep in you before he removes himself. As he pulls out, he watches the mixture of you both slowly spill out of your abused hole. He’s running to grab a kleenex from on top of your dresser, cleaning up the mess you two have made.

Before he could even ask you if you were okay, you were fast asleep. You just couldn’t help it when your body was just so exhausted.

He’s chuckling at your sleeping figure, finding it cute that you fell asleep right after fucking.

—

Yoongi lifts up the notebook paper up to his face, squinting at the words scribbled onto it.

‘Thanks for the night. Went out for a little, so feel free to leave whenever. I’ll take care of cleaning :)!’

Fuck.

A ‘one-night-stand.’

Yoongi scoffs in disbelief.

He got played by you.

A quick fuck and that was just it.

He’s running his fingers through his dark, disheveled hair, hand moving down to rub his face. He groans into his palm, plain annoyed.

He’s quickly getting up, putting his sweats over his boxers as he searches for his hoodie.

Standing there near the edge of the bed, his eyes scan the room to see it nowhere to be found.

Perhaps you wore it out?

He's smiling to himself, the thought of that happening actually making him feel giddy.

He opts to just wear the shirt he was wearing underneath, dragging his feet across the floor as he heads over to open your bedroom door. It then finally hit him that he had the freedom to roam around your apartment, wait for you to come back home, or make an attempt at figuring out where you might’ve gone.

He entered the awfully quiet living room, your papers still scattered on your coffee table.

He could still smell the faint aroma of coffee that’s lingering in the room, as if someone just recently made a fresh cup of coffee—he knew you still had to be around here or that you had just barely left.

Yoongi’s looking around, checking to see if you’ve taken your keys with you—nope.

But you did leave the door to your balcony open.

Ah-ha…

And there you were.

Outside on the small balcony of your apartment, body against the railing. You were watching the calmness of the morning, or whatever that was out there, with a coffee mug in your hand. He’s walking up to you, admiring how tiny and cute you looked, drowning in his hoodie before pressing his back against yours. He wraps his toned arms around your shoulders. He takes his hand and cups your chin, tilting your head back so that you can see him upside down. Yoongi brings his sleepy face close to you, pressing a firm yet tired kiss against your lips. Your lips immediately reciprocate, feeling his hand that was on your chin slide down to your neck. He pulls away with a low groan—either because of you or that he's tired (probably a mix of both).

You tilt your head forward, looking back at the mellow street.

“Too much creamer,” he mumbles sleepily, licking his lips. He brings his head next to the side of yours, resting it on top of your shoulder. His breath hits against the side of your neck as he exhales.

You chuckle at his comment.

“Did I scare you?”

Yoongi’s quiet for a second, tightening his hold around you. He brushes his lips against the side of your neck, then leaves gentle kisses on the same spot.

“A little…but I am at your apartment, so I would’ve waited for you to come home.”

You’re smiling big.

Damn. He got you. He’s really got you smiling like a whole doofus. Guess you didn’t think this through.

“Ah—,” you groan with a laugh afterwards, bringing up your hands to push him away, “go home already.”

His hold loosens as you push your way free. He’s chuckling too as he watches you walk away all flustered and to the door. He’s quick to catch up with you, closing the door behind him as he enters. You don’t realize that Yoongi was still following you when you felt his arms wrap around your waist again once you set your coffee on the counter.

“There’s enough space for both of us here.”

“What makes you think I’d want you to stay here?”

He hums, resting his chin on top of your head.

“Mmm, weren’t you the one who told me that you loved me first?”

“It was in the heat of the moment.”

“Ah…,” he pauses, “and the kisses you were begging from me?”

“Also in the heat of the moment.”

Yoongi scoffs, turning you around so that you’re facing him. He’s bending down to pick you up with his hands under your thighs, sitting you on top of the counter. He leans in to kiss you slowly and you reciprocate, arms already wrapping around his neck.

When he pulls away, catching you with a little pout on your face which makes him chuckle.

“‘Heat of the moment’ my ass—you seemed to like that kiss and you’re giving me a look that’s telling me you want more, hm?”

You shook your head.

He leans in to peck your lips once, twice—a third time.

“Shouldn’t you be pushing me away since you don’t like me that way?”

You roll your eyes at him, shaking your head afterwards. A small pause of silence.

He wanted to hear you say it. Loud and clear.

“I do like…,” you mumble, trailing off. You turn your head away, looking over to the side.

“Louder for me, baby.” He takes his hand and brings your face to look at him again.

You sigh, rolling your eyes.

“You’re cute and all—,” you mumble, but quickly add on, “—but I want to get to know you more first.”

You watch the side of his lips slowly turn upwards. He’s smiling big, as if he finally won the gold medal in a marathon. Then he’s chuckling—both in relief and because of you being so cute.

‘Finally’ he thought. He’ll take what he can get.

“I told you baby,” he’s bringing his hands up to cup your face, a thumb caressing one of the sides of your cheek, “if I want something, I’m going to do whatever it takes to get it. Even if that means taking you out on a million dates to get you to be my girlfriend. That’s been my plan for the past few weeks.”

Rolling your eyes again with a smile. You pucker your lips, signaling for him to give you a quick kiss, which he does with no hesitation.

“You’re so annoying.”

With his hands still cupping your face, he squishes your face, your lips even more puckered which makes it hard for you to speak.

“I’m all yours, got that? I’m not going to have a one-time-thing with you.”

“You sure about that?”

“You really think I’d just let you go just like that?” He scoffs, with a smile. “You’re mine.” He’s removing his hands from your face, resting them on the sides of the counter top, trapping you in between.

“Okay, okay,” you snort with a chuckle, “d’you want breakfast at least?”

He’s eyeing you up and down, a small smirk on his face. You watch the tip of his tongue peak out, then licking his lips.

“Yoongi…,” you whine, “it’s too early,” you roll your eyes with a small smile on your face.

“It’s never too early, baby.” His hands move around to your waist, quickly embracing you into a tight hug, pulling you close to his body.

“Can’t you give me some more time to rest?”

He’s bringing his head to the side of your neck, lighting pressing his lips against your skin, leaving a trail of kisses from the base of your neck to below your earlobe.

“I’ve given you plenty,” he mumbles against your skin.

“God you really are annoying.”

“You still like me though.”

As if he already knew what you would say, he gently bites down on the spot on your neck that he's been stuck on, causing you to let out an airy yelp.

“—I didn’t say anything!”

“You were thinking about saying it.”

“How would you know?”

He’s laughing at your attitude—he found you so fucking cute. He’s resting his head on your shoulder, his breath hitting the side of your neck. He’s tightening his hold around you a little more, while you bring a hand to his head to comb your fingers through his hair and gently massage his scalp.

There’s a small pause of silence. It wasn’t awkward—in fact it felt comfortable between the two of you, almost as if it was needed. This was all sort of new to Yoongi, and he found himself liking this a little too much. Sharing the same bed, waking up to you still around and in his clothes, morning kisses, your little attitude that he enjoys poking at, and the warm and tingly feelings he gets when he’s wrapped around you.

Maybe this is what he needed in his life—someone to finally smack him around and hold him down. Make him work harder than usual to get what he wants—or not give him immediately what he wants. Someone who will switch things up and surprise him. It just so happens that out of everyone he’s hooked up with, you managed to do all of that—and now you even got him wrapped around your finger.

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heegyukeluv · 1 month

Text

love-battery (lhs) - req

pairing: heeseung x afab!reader

synopsis: Heeseung always would make you feel recharged just by being around. And you did the same to him.

my's note: hi hello here's a very fluff cute little thing! it's a request (thank you for requesting <3), so i hope you like it!!!! (have to say that when i chose the name of this fic, the jinyoung's song with similar name started to play on my head non-stop help)

warnings: skinship, established relationship, fluff, pet names, explicit language (i can't help myself. i'll always use at least one 'fuck' lol).

wc: 3k

NOT PROOFREAD.

Even with your boyfriend’s tight schedule and the fact you both lived quite far from each other, you and Heeseung always managed ways to meet up and hang out for at least an hour or so – enough to work as a full recharge for Heeseung.

However, for the last whole month you only saw Heeseung three times. You were used to seeing him almost every day, either by going to his and staying for a bit or he coming to yours for the same reason, and it was pissing you off how annoying adult life was being so far, unabling you to do your daily basis chores, let alone drive to Heeseung’s studio to be with him.

Heeseung normally had a tough routine as a producer by spending long hours in his studio, staying up all night working on his music and constantly dealing with tight deadlines. Your favorite hobby was to grab a coffee and some snacks to surprise him by showing up unexpectedly; and of course, to sit on his lap while he kept doing his things.

But now you were the one fighting against time, as you had to deal with your last year in college, struggling with your final project and with your respective project partners – who would have thought that working with people would lead you to be that stressed, huh?

Your life was a total mess at this point, your sleep schedule chaotic, your body aching, begging for a pause to get some proper rest, but you really couldn’t give yourself that luxury; all the submission dates getting closer and closer making you go crazy in desperation.

And on top of that, you haven’t seen your boyfriend, the main source of your happiness, in almost two weeks.

“This is so frustrating, Hee,” you said with a realistic sad tone, when you decided to ignore the blank page on your laptop waiting for a new plot to pop up in your mind, and give your love life a little more attention, calling Heeseung. “It’s almost like the world doesn't want us to be together.”

“Don’t say such things, my love. Not even as kidding,” he interrupted you to say with a gentle voice. “We’re going to figure out something, yeah?”

“I’m sorry, Hee. But– I’m dealing with a bunch of stupid assignments with stupid deadlines in this stupid degree I chose, and you’ve told me early this week that you were pretty chill with your work. But I didn’t even have time to invite you over the days you said you’re free! Not to mention that if you were here I’d be paying more attention to you and getting fucked with my project.”

“Y/N–”

“And when I’m free you’re the one swamped with work! And, please, I’m not blaming you, babe, please don’t take it the wrong way. I love you and I love that you can work with the thing you’re passionate about. I’m just… Frustrated,” you unloaded with a long sigh, voice trembling a bit since your feelings were, also, a mess and your heart aching. “And I miss you so much. I wish we lived a bit closer, so we could meet more often in moments like this.”

You heard Heeseung soft breathing through the phone. He decided to let you vent instead of cutting you off, because he, more than anyone, knew how overwhelmed you felt whenever you had to deal with submission dates and projects. It was your third project in your whole degree, this one being the most important one, and Heeseung saw you in shambles during your working time in the smaller ones, fully understanding how hard it has been with this final one.

“I’m sorry you’re having to go through all of this, pretty girl,” you could feel the comfort in his tender, sweet tone. You wiped out a single tear that tried to escape your eyes, curving yourself into a little ball on your couch. “But you don’t have to do this alone, my love,” you heard a weird noise through his phone, very similar to a door unlocking. Your door unlocking. You frowned. “Don’t freak out, bae. I’m entering your apartment right now.”

Your heart dropped in your chest. “What?” You whispered in disbelief, your phone falling off from your hand, your eyes widening as you watched your boyfriend walk through the front door, smiling big and bright at you.

His dark red hair was attractively messy because of the motorcycle helmet. He also carried a big backpack on his back and a plastic bag with the logo of your favorite food place.

“You’re kidding me,” your voice was barely a whisper at this point, your lips curving into a smile that grew bigger and bigger, still finding it hard to believe that the man talking to you on your phone was now in front of you. Your beloved boyfriend was now in front of you. “Lee fucking Heeseung!” You almost squealed, walking in his direction right after he put his helmet and his backpack on the ground, to jump on his open arms which were waiting to embrace you in a tight hug.

Your legs instantly wrapped around his waist and your arms on his shoulders, his firm hands gripping on your thighs to hold you close and steady as you buried your face on his neck, inhaling his scent as if it was your favorite drug. You heard Heeseung chuckling at your reaction and you finally noticed how fast your heart was beating, everything feeling unreal. All the frustration you felt waving off your body quickly.

“Hi, baby,” Heeseung said in an affectionate way, with you still hidden on the curve of his neck, making him let out a small laugh at your adorableness. He missed you so much.

Your fingers tangled in his soft hair, pulling him into yourself as if you could become one before you started to kiss every piece of his exposed skin, from his jawline to close to his ear, to his cheek, the tip of his nose and finally his glistening, dreamy lips.

Heeseung let out a contented sigh when he felt your sweet taste, walking carefully through the living room so he could sit on the couch with you on his lap, the contact never breaking. He deepened the kiss by slightly brushing his tongue on your bottom lip, electricity running all over his body once you let him in to feel him closer, so intimately; his hands sneaked into your shirt, caressing the bare skin of your waist just because he needed to touch, to feel you more.

“I missed you so much, my love,” you whispered when you parted away to catch your breath, pecking his lip countless times as you said “Missed. You. So. Much. Oh. My. God,” and the last one lasted a bit longer, making Heeseung giggle and kiss you properly one more time.

“I missed you too, pretty.”

Heeseung was looking at you with so much love, his eyes sparkling in joy for finally having you that close, touching, kissing you. He caressed your cheek while his gaze wandered all your face features, as if he was trying to memorize every one of them, completely endeared by your beauty.

Heeseung looked at you as if he just discovered what love is.

You weren’t different, though. Your soft touch on his strands of hair, scratching slightly as your contemplated every piece of your very good-looking boyfriend, not holding yourself when your fingers started gently to trace his face; his big deer eyes now turned into little crescents, his pretty nose that you loved to kiss, the little charming mole on his forehead, and his so, so attractive lips adorning the most beautiful smile you ever had the chance to see. You were so in love.

Heeseung felt like he could stare at you all day and he would never feel tired, actually to have you close always worked as a battery recharge. And for you, Heeseung did the same, making all your bad feelings wash away easily because you had him, and you knew you could rely on him.

Ironically, the sound of your laptop on the coffee table indicating that its battery was running out, pulled you both out of your little love bubble, startling you slightly. The reality check hit you with full force, and the bottom of your stomach sank immediately.

You gulped, looking at Heeseung with a hint of sadness before you sighed and said, “Don’t get me wrong, I’m super happy you’re here, but I–”

“You have things to do, I know,” Heeseung cut you off mid-sentence. His kind voice, the small peck on your cheek, and his cute smile making you shiver and melt. “But don’t worry about me, okay? You do your things, I’ll be around for whenever you finish, and then we can cuddle,” he said simply, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“You’re staying?” You questioned with eyes sparkling in confusion. “I don’t want you to mess up your sche–”

Heeseung now stopped your talking with a sweet kiss, and then another, and another, and one more just in case. “I’m staying, baby,” he chuckled at your tilted head, expressing that you were very much confused. “As I said before, I’m pretty chill this week,” he explained with a warm smile, mirroring yours. “Anything I have to do, I can do from my computer or phone, so I’m all yours this weekend, my love.”

Heeseung fell even deeply for you when he saw your eyes shining like you received the best news of your life. And for you, you actually did. To have your boyfriend for a whole weekend after days without being able to see each other, you truly thought you were dreaming.

So to have Heeseung feeding you while your hands worked on your writing was definitely something that you hadn’t planned for your friday. He was openly giving his opinion as well after you cutely asked him to, paying attention to every detail you shared with him about the plot you were working on.

“So your idea is that after he leaves the house, you give an extra zoom on the door knob because someone is going to open, even though the house is supposed to be empty?”

“Yes! And then it’s revealed to be actually his ‘dead’ twin!” You explained excitedly, noticing Heeseung gazing very passionately at you. You blushed, feeling suddenly too aware, because your story now has been read by someone other than you. “I– I know it’s kinda simple and boring, but I mean– I got the approval to keep working on it, so…” You shrugged, trying to act cool, but your pout was showing how insecure you actually felt.

“It’s not simple or anything bad, my love,” Heeseung couldn’t resist the urge of kissing your small pout as he reassured you. “It’s impressive how your creative mind works, I’m really proud,” he said with his voice filled with sincerity.

You gave him a shy smile before going back to writing, heart beating fast with his genuine words.

Heeseung never left your side. You needed him around you every single second, not only to compensate for the days you were apart, but because Heeseung was really your source of energy. So to write on your computer while having his fingers intertwined with yours became a natural activity during the moments you were working on your project. You could feel Heeseung’s love stare at your face during those moments, completely in love by your focused expression.

Sometimes he would leave your touch to reply to some of his co-workers on his phone, giving them the attention they needed, but in the meantime his head would be resting on your shoulder, completely addicted to your touch and to having you close – his hair tickling your neck making you lose focus for a few minutes.

You both wanted and needed each other with the same intensity. Heeseung always loved your clinginess, emphasizing how lovable you looked with your pouty face whenever he had to leave the bed to go to the bathroom or grab some food in the kitchen and “leave you to die alone”, like you normally would say in a very dramatic way. Especially because he himself was pretty clingy too, holding you in a tight back hug whenever you had to go back home after visiting him at his studio, refusing to let you leave his side.

To move in together was a big dream. However Heeseung always talked with you about finishing your studies first before committing your relationship on that instance, so you could have your freedom without him disrupting your focus; he also knew that he wasn’t ready to have you so close for that long, afraid of scaring you off by how much he would be around you, maybe losing his own concentration on his work.

And this behavior was being shown at that moment, by you doing the lunch and him hugging you from behind.

“I have to be honest, I don’t really see this as ‘helping’, Hee,” you said with a playful chuckle, not really bothered by his big hands resting on your hips as well as his chin on your shoulder while you did all the work. He was clinging like a koala, making it challenging to move around the kitchen.

“What do you mean? I’m clearly helping you,” he said with a babyish voice, making you giggle. You could tell he was pouting too. “What if you get hurt? I have to be close, y’know? To save you from danger.”

You laughed hard, throwing your head behind and profusely resting it on his chest. “The danger?”

“Yeah, the knife and fire and stuff…” He explained like it was obvious.

You turned down the heat on the stove, moving away from it so you could face your boyfriend, just to meet his big, adorable eyes looking at you with a dramatically pleading expression. “You’re right,” you said softly, cupping his cheeks and planting a kiss on his lips. “Thank you for protecting me from the dangers of my kitchen,” you added a hint of sarcasm to your very affectionate tone, without holding your smile when he nodded proudly, before pulling you closer to kiss you properly as now your self-proclaimed hero.

After you finished cooking – with Heeseung’s help, of course –, you both shared the meal, doing constant “love shots” but with your food, just so you could feel each other’s touch.

Heeseung didn’t let you go back to work on your project when you finished eating, saying you needed a bit of resting time with him. And how could you oppose such truthful words?

So you spend quite a long time of your Saturday afternoon embraced in Heeseung’s arms and scent all over you, making it difficult to choose anything different from being on the bed cuddling him.

After changing positions many times, you now were on top of Heeseung, face buried on his neck while he hummed some random song, hands gently caressing your back and scalp, making you wonder if taking a quick nap at that moment would mess up too much with your project work.

As if a sense of responsibility hit you, remembering all your deadlines and especially that you had to finish at least the plot writing by Monday – in two days –, you forced yourself to try to move away. Your body refused, though.

“I should go,” you said, muffed into his skin.

“Yeah, you should…” Heeseung added, not moving an inch to help you with that. In fact, he held you closer. Your warm body against his own helping him to relax.

“Like, reeeally gotta go…” You didn’t move as well, trailing kisses all over his neck as you refused to get up.

“Definitely you do…” His voice was a bit raspy in a sweet, tender way that made it even harder for you to leave. He was about to fall asleep.

You sighed, “I missed being like this with you.” You lifted your head just enough to see his serene expression; eyes closed, lips slightly parted and a calm breathing. You almost cried with the fact that you truly needed to go back to your life instead of staying there with Heeseung.

Your hands caressed his face with all the care in the world, making him open his eyes, “I missed it too, pretty. I miss you every moment I’m without you, actually.”

You noticed a soft flush on Heeseung cheeks and giggled at the sight of your ‘so cool’ boyfriend blushing in front of you.

You always appreciated how Heeseung was not only a good listener to your worries and maybe overwhelming thoughts, but also unafraid to show you his most sensitive and vulnerable side in order to make you comfortable on doing the same. You cherished his presence in your life with all you had, not being scared of loving him so openly, because he did the same for you.

“I love you,” you whispered, leaning in to tease a kiss. He smiled against your lips, closing his eyes again.

“I love you too, my love,” he murmured, mirroring your tone and capturing your bottom lip with his own, to pull you near and finally kiss you.

You decided to stay for a bit longer, because Heeseung’s hands roaming your body with such care and tenderness, his sweet mouth working on yours, and his loving whispers against your skin were too irresistible.

The best excuse you found for yourself was that you were revitalizing so you could work better, your creativity would flow easily and you would finish it in no time.

And, well, he would be around you anyway, because he just couldn’t never get enough of your pretty face, or your joyful presence, or your addicting warm touches.

After all, Heeseung always worked as a recharger to your love battery, and for him, you were no different.

#heeseung x reader #enha fluff #heeseung fluff #heeseung imagines #heeseung fanfic #heeseung soft hours #enha soft hours #heegyukeluv reqs #heegyukeluv works

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fqirysim · 10 months

Text

untitled--

genre(s): angst, some fluff at the end, exes to best friends to lovers, highschool au, lowercase intended, lots of pov changes

requested: nope !

pairing(s): yang jungwon x reader, ft. yuna (itzy), and intak (p1h)

word count: 7.2k (my longest fic yet ! )

warning(s): cursing, underage drinking, a tiny bit of infidelity

synopsis: you had been in love with yang jungwon since the day you met him.

note: lowercase is intended, lots of pov changes! (read carefully so you don’t get confused lol). this took me a year to make PLEASE don't judge too harshly i put my heart and soul into this 😭. took me a year to make but could not come up with a title for the life of me, hence why it is called untitled, silly silly me. this was really fun to make though and although it took me a while to make, i'm very proud of it. lmk if you want to be added to my taglist and i will gladly do so !! special thanks to my bestie abby and my bf dean for proofreading love you both <3333

—------

you were certain this was the end of your friendship with jungwon. again. but this time you knew it would be permanent.

he was the boy who lived next door. growing up, you had always admired him from afar. the class president who everyone, including the upperclassmen, seemed to get along with.

you had liked him until freshman year, when you got tired of pining over someone who didn’t seem to hold any interest in you. as comical as it seems, that was around the time that he had started to take an interest in you.

and so he courted you, bringing you your favorite drink, walking you home, even coming over for dinner and hanging out at your house. this helped blossom a friendship that no one saw coming, and it wasn’t long until people started to wonder if you two were an item.

it took two months for jungwon to muster up the courage to ask you to be his girlfriend.

you were sure you were over your crush on him, that it was just a silly childhood crush. but as you hung out with him more and more, you couldn’t help but fall for him all over again. of course you said yes, because who wouldn’t say yes to the pretty starry-eyed boy standing before you?

jungwon was a nice boyfriend; going on dates quite often, never fought, and he would buy you flowers without being asked.. maybe the latter was why the whirlwind relationship only lasted five months.

you remember the day so vividly, sitting on the bench at your favorite park; the same park where jungwon had asked you to be his, and here he was, asking you to break up.

it seemed poetic in a kind of way, starting as his, and leaving as no one’s.

“i’m sorry. i’ve just lost romantic feelings,” jungwon stated, staring down at the grass as a breeze of wind came, the blades of grass swaying slightly. “it’s just that we’ve both been so busy with other things, and i guess we kinda just like, drifted apart because of it.”

“yeah, i think so too,” you replied nonchalantly, ignoring the slight sting in your heart.

his head snapped up, your eyes finally meeting his, “wait, actually? you’re not lying?” the sound of relief in his voice made your heart feel like it was being squeezed.

“do you want to get rid of me that bad?” you instead teased with a grin.

“no!” he exclaimed with wide eyes. “i still wanna be friends with you. i might not like you romantically anymore, but i don’t wanna like, lose the friendship we have, you know?”

“yeah,” you replied, “we can still be friends.”

and you two meant it. there were no tears, and no broken hearts (that you would like to admit). it was just a simple case of the right person and the wrong time, and as the years continued, you tried to convince yourself that it was just nothing. that jungwon was not your “right” anything- he was just your best friend, nothing more, nothing less.

you were almost successful. until your last year of high school approached.

you and jungwon kept your word, you stayed friends. always being seen together; walking to class, walking home, studying in the library, eating lunch in the cafeteria.

people still believed you were together, and you always had to correct them, because no you and jungwon were no longer together and no you were not a thing.

they never believed you, though.

there was always a small part of you that wanted to say yes when someone would ask. that you and jungwon were a thing and that he was yours and you were his. but you never did, callingyourself crazy for even thinking of doing so.

you found yourself doing it again as yuna had asked you earlier in the week.

yuna was the new girl this year, having transferred from jyp high. from what you heard, she was nice, smart, and she was gorgeous. you were never one to put yourself down, but you couldn’t say that you didn’t feel insecure standing next to her.

“no, jungwon and i are not dating,” you smiled politely. it was almost like a script at this point. “we’re just good friends.”

“that’s good to hear,” yuna smiled, her eyes sparkling. “i just wanted to ask him out, but i wasn’t going to if you had a thing!”

“oh, you’re thinking of confessing to him?” you questioned. there was that little part of you again. the part that always said no! tell them you’re a thing! tell them to not do it!

“yeah, he’s in a bunch of my classes. he’s super smart and polite and he always knows how to make me laugh. and he has such pretty eyes,” she sighed dreamily as her mouth formed into a lovesick smile.

“well, he has that effect on people,” you grinned.

i would know, you thought.

“i say go for it! he’s not particularly interested in anyone, you have a good chance.”

“you really think so?” she asked, eyes wide.

god, i hope not, you thought. as shitty as it was, you didn’t want jungwon to move on. you felt sick at the thought of him being with someone else.

“why not?” you said instead. “he’ll be at the library after school today studying, i’m supposed to meet him, but i can just tell him something came up.”

“oh my god, you’re the best!” she squealed, engulfing you in a hug. “thank you thank you thank you.”

“you’re welcome,” you smiled, wrapping your arms around her, ignoring the green monster growing within you.

—----

it had been four days since your conversation with yuna. every time you saw him, you waited for him to bring up the date with baited breath- but he hadn’t said anything. not yet at least.

or maybe yuna simply didn’t ask him on a date. that’s what you were secretly hoping, at least.

it seemed hoping wasn’t enough. on the fifth day jungwon approached you from down the hall with those twinkling eyes and a bright smile you love so much, he seemed more energetic than usual with a little hop in his step.

“you’re not gonna believe what happened today!” he exclaimed as he reached you at your locker.

you could believe it. you were the one who hooked yuna up after all. yet you feigned curiosity as you looked at him quizzically, “what is it?”

“yuna asked me on a date! me! of all people! she’s so cool and smart and nice and pretty,” he said with a dreamy look on his face.

you knew that look. the far away gaze as he thought of her. it was one you would never forget. it’s how he used to look at you. that lovesick grin and those twinkling eyes.

it had never bothered you before when jungwon had crushes on other girls, because well, that’s all they were. they never escalated into anything more. looking at his lovestruck expression, realization hit that jungwon wasn’t yours anymore.

you shouldn’t have thought of it that way. you should be happy for him! you should’ve been celebrating with him and cheering him on!

you couldn’t help the bittersweet smile on your face as you replied, “oh, well that’s nice.”

his smile faltered slightly at your expression, concern slowly forming on his face.

“are you okay?” he asked.

“i’m fine, don’t worry,” you said, regaining your composure. “i’m happy for you! and don’t worry about spending less time with me, you’re gonna be a busy guy now! with a girlfriend…”

“okay, she is not my girlfriend. and even if she was, I would never ditch you!”

“yeah whatever you say, loverboy,” you joked, giving him a playful nudge with your shoulder.

“no seriously, y/n,” he replied, softly. “are you okay with yuna and i being a thing? i just don’t want it to be weird because you and i used to be a thing, and i know we’re both over that but i just wanted to make sure-,”

“what, me?” you scoffed, cutting the boy off. “what you and i had wasn’t serious, it was just some dumb high school fling.”

even as you spoke those words, you knew they weren’t true. it was more than just a fling. you loved him and maybe you still did.

silence hung between you, the hallway getting quieter as the remaining students scrambled to their classes, the late bell ringing, leaving you and jungwon in the hallway alone.

he looked hurt at what you said. you immediately wanted to take it back, to say you didn’t mean it and that he was your first love and you didn’t want him going on that date with yuna.

“sorry, i shouldn’t have said that,” you muttered, not being able to meet his eyes and instead turning to close your locker.

“no, you don’t have anything to apologize for,” he replied, as he started to back away, making his way to his class down the hall. “you’re right, it was just a fling, and honestly, it’s so weird to think of us as a couple.”

it was like your world was falling apart around you as he spoke. did you interpret his hurt expression wrong? maybe this all was one-sided. did he not feel his heart breaking like you did? did he not wonder occasionally (or everyday) how his life would be if you were still together? did he not miss what you had?

maybe there really was nothing between you and jungwon but friendship.

“yeah, so weird,” you awkwardly smiled, walking to catch up with him. “but you and i, we’re good, right?”

“yep, no worries,” he grinned back.

“good,” you smiled. “so when’s your date?”

his eyes brightened ever so slightly as you asked. he started to describe his date– how he was going to take her to the beach and have a picnic and play in the sand.

you nodded along, your mind wandering off to when jungwon would take you on beach dates, burying him in the sand, splashing him with water and swimming away before he could splash you back.

you looked over at the boy in question, his starry eyes wide as he talked about his date plans, his smile wide and giddy, his tone as sweet as honey as he talked about her.

you knew you shouldn’t villainize yuna– she was a nice girl, a very nice one. it wasn’t her fault you were still in love with jungwon, and it surely wasn’t her fault that she liked him. it’s not like you could choose who you could fall in love with.

you of all people would know.

so you smiled and nodded along as you walked him to class, listening to him go on and on about his plans. you finally settled with the fact then and there, that jungwon would never be yours again. you had to let go.

—--------

it has been six months since that day. the day that you had decided to give up. yuna and jungwon have been inseparable since then.

he kept to his word though; still studying with you after school, showing up when you needed him, hanging out together. sometimes yuna would tag along, which you didn’t mind. she was fun to be around.

you also didn’t mind being the third wheel when she was around, instead teasing the couple and even offering to take pictures for them. they were a lovely couple and they were seemingly happy– jungwon especially, and that was all that mattered.

the school year was coming to an end, and seeing as it was your senior year, people were throwing parties almost every weekend.

you went every once in a while, had some fun, did some underage drinking, even flirted with a couple of people.

tonight was the party though.

intak was throwing his first party of the year, and everyone knew his parties were legendary.

you sat in the uber with jungwon and yuna, anticipating the night before you. you were excited, to say the least. the last time you went to a party was a month ago, and you were ready to have fun. you even put on your best party outfit for tonight!

you arrived at intak’s house (or more like a mansion), and started to make your way inside until jungwon stopped you.

“wait! before we go in, i think we should go over some basic safety rules!” jungwon exclaimed.

you rolled your eyes with a small laugh as you replied, “only you would go over safety rules at a party.”

“i’m serious, y/n, really bad things could happen,” he shot back with a pointed expression.

“okay wonie, go ahead, we’re all ears,” yuna smiled supportively.

you ignored the slight heart ache at yuna using your old nickname for jungwon- the one you used when you were together.

get it together, y/n you thought. letting go, remember?

you instead smiled and nodded reassuringly at jungwon, who looked over at you to make sure you were paying attention.

he sighed before continuing, “okay, i won’t be doing any drinking so i can babysit you guys all night. if you need to use the bathroom give your drinks to me so i can watch them. and y/n, if you leave the party at any point, for any reason, please let me know first.”

“sir, yes sir,” you muttered.

“now let’s go have some fun!” yuna exclaimed, dragging the both of you by the wrists.

you finally entered the house, where there seemed to be everyone from your school. even kids who graduated last year were in attendance, and as you searched the party for a familiar face that wasn’t jungwon or yuna, intak strolled over, a wide smile on his face.

“you guys made it!” he shouted over the loud thumping of the music. he was wearing a letterman jacket with a white shirt underneath, and a pair of baggy straight legged jeans. the outfit looked so good on him that you had almost forgotten that you were talking to intak of all people.

“you look nice, y/n,” he grinned.

you would’ve had a crush on him if he didn’t flirt with every girl he laid eyes on, and it seemed like his victim of the night was you. but damn did he look good right now.

intak wasn’t a bad guy, he seemed harmless, not like the guys who wouldn’t take no for an answer. he just always flirted, with no intentions of making anything serious. most of the girls he talked to never knew the latter though.

but you thought it couldn’t hurt, you were here to have fun, and if flirting with intak was the way to do it, then so be it.

you saw jungwon step forward, about to tell intak to back off and go flirt with someone else, causing you to put your hand on his arm to stop him.

you also noticed how yuna examined the scene in front of her; jungwon trying to be your knight in shining armor, and you with your hand on his arm to stop him. her eyes narrowed slightly in thought as you dropped your hand and turned to intak.

“why don’t you get me a drink and then we can talk?” you smiled dazzlingly. you usually reserved smiles like that for when you wanted to flirt and get wasted, and just as usual, it worked like a charm.

“i’ll be right back then,” intak smiled, before making his way through the crowd of bodies in search of a drink for you.

“really, y/n, intak out of all people?” jungwon questioned, arms crossed.

“yeah, and what about it?” you replied, feeling slightly annoyed at his tone of voice. he had never acted this way towards you before, but you didn’t like it. it wasn’t his business who you flirted with. he talked to you like you were an idiot and you hated the thought of him looking down on you.

yuna awkwardly stood between the two of you, not wanting to be in the middle of your fight, but not wanting to go off by herself at a party filled with people she barely knew.

“‘what about it?’” jungwon mocked your voice in a high pitched tone. “you know how he is, don’t be dumb.”

“dumb? i’m here to have fun, jungwon, not to play third wheel again,” you snapped back. “and why does it matter, you’re not my boyfriend, and you’re not my brother, so it’s really none of your fucking business.”

yuna had been looking back and forth between you and jungwon, watching as you glared at each other, waiting for someone to say something. it was like watching a tennis match.

at that moment, intak arrived, back with a red solo cup in hand.

“a drink for the prettiest girl here,” he announced, handing the cup over to you.

“why thank you love,” you replied with an innocent smile as you looked over at jungwon, still glaring at you, his arms crossed against his chest.

ignoring him, you took a sip of the drink you were given, your face scrunching up at the bitter taste.

“hey intak, why don’t we go dance?” you asked, reaching for his hand.

“that sounds like fun,” he replied with a smile of his own before you led him to the dance floor, leaving an enraged jungwon, and a slightly annoyed yuna behind you.

—-----

yuna had seen the way jungwon looked at you. she might have been a bit oblivious at first, but as time went on and she spent more time with the two of you, it became more and more apparent– jungwon had never gotten over you.

at first yuna thought she could sway him, to get him to fall for her the way he fell for you. but it never worked. he looked at you like you were his own personal angel. no matter where you were, who you were with, how you looked, he was absolutely enraptured by you, and oh, how yuna wished he looked at her like that.

it had been fifty minutes since your small tussle, and yuna and jungwon sat outside, occupying two pool chairs as he angrily took sips of his water.

“it’s like she doesn’t even care, she just ran off with him knowing he’ll never want anything serious, knowing he’s gonna lead her on, and i swear when she comes crying to me, i’m gonna tell her ‘i told you’ right to her stupid dumb face,” he rambled, placing his bottle of water harder on the table than he intended to, spilling droplets in the process.

“well, she’s young and single, and she just wants to have fun baby, there’s nothing wrong with that,” yuna replied. “and she has a point, you’re not her brother or anything, so why do you care so much?”

jungwon looked up at yuna, not being able to ignore the bitter tone in her voice, “wait, you’re supposed to be on my side.”

“i’m not on anyone’s side, i’m just asking as your girlfriend why you care so much. because honestly, if i didn’t know any better, i would think that you were still in love with her,” yuna sighed, exasperated.

“i am not in love with her, i like you!” he exclaimed, way faster than he should have.

yuna wanted to believe him. she wanted to ignore every bit of doubt in her body and believe every lie he fed to her, but she couldn’t. not when she knew you loved him too. it was heartbreaking, really. to watch the person you love pine over someone else. but it was even worse knowing the feelings were reciprocated.

“don’t lie to me, jungwon,” she deadpanned, feeling her eyes start to water with tears of frustration. “i see the way you look at her, and i know for sure you haven’t gotten over her. you have never once looked at me the way you look at her, and if you like her, just say that. just say that and we can end things here, without having to make this any more heartbreaking than it already is.”

yuna didn’t want to cry. the last thing she wanted to do was cry, but the feelings of anger and embarrassment had overwhelmed her, causing a few traitorous tears to spill. she was angry at herself for letting it get this far, for falling in love with a boy that she knew would never love her back.

but she was also embarrassed. embarrassed that she had even tried to make an effort, that she had thought she could win him over.

she wiped her face with the back of her hand, only for more to spill out, a sob fighting for an escape from her quivering lips.

jungwon raised his hand to wipe the tears away for her, to cup her face and tell her everything would be okay and that he was sorry. but what was he sorry for? sorry for trying to keep you away from intak? or sorry that maybe yuna was right and he did still love you?

just as he opened his mouth to speak, you stumbled out, words slurring and barely able to walk as you stumbled your way over to them.

“hey guys!” you exclaimed, as a worried intak came rushing out the house behind you.

“oh god, y/n, are you okay?” jungwon asked, immediately walking over to your side to support your stumbling figure. yuna would have felt bitter over jungwon rushing to your side faster than he had ever run to hers. yet, despite the devil on her shoulder that told her to be petty, she instead felt worried for you. you could barely even stand up straight.

“what the fuck did you do to her?” jungwon asked, throwing an accusatory look at intak.

“nothing dude, i promise! she was the one who wanted to drink, she had like 5 drinks within the span of like, 10 minutes,” intak replied, panicked. “is she going to be okay? does she have a way to get home safely?”

jungwon looked from yuna to you, who was falling asleep just standing there.

“just take her home,” yuna sighed. “i’m not gonna make you choose because we all know who you’d choose every single time.”

“yuna it’s not like that,” jungwon groaned. “listen, i’ll bring her home, and then i’ll come over tomorrow and we can talk this out, okay? i promise.”

“okay, just get her home safe first,” yuna replied.

you might have been the biggest obstacle in her relationship, but you were still a nice girl, and you had technically done nothing wrong, so yuna had no reason to want to keep you and jungwon apart. you were also wasted as fuck and there was no way you would be able to get home by yourself without something horrible potentially happen to you.

jungwon grabbed his almost full water bottle from the table he was sitting at, muttering that he would “need it to sober you up”.

he gave yuna one last reassuring smile before he walked away, you on his back as he tried his best to carry you home.

yuna sighed as she watched you go. she felt like something bad would happen today, something worse than her argument with jungwon, and she wanted nothing else but to go home and cry.

all she could do was trust jungwon, even if she knew she already lost him, even if she knew she was never a contestant in the first place.

—------

jungwon almost did it.

he almost carried you all the way home, but his legs felt like they were gonna give out once he reached the park near your house, and he decided then and there that he needed a break.

he sat you on the playground set, sitting beside you with a huff.

you were awake by this point, taking long sips of the water bottle jungwon had given you. you wanted to sober up by the time you got home, but it wasn’t really working, with your words still slurring slightly and your mind all dizzy.

the two of you sat in silence as you gazed at the stars and jungwon thought of his argument with yuna.

maybe she was right.

even now, as he glanced over at you, studying the stars, his heart skipped a beat and he felt his face warm up.

“do you remember when you asked me to be your girlfriend in this park?” you chuckled. “we were so young then, it feels like forever ago.”

jungwon was thrown off by the sudden conversation starter, but still smiled, “yeah, i remember it very well. i felt like i was gonna throw up because i was so nervous.”

you turned your head to look at him and giggled as his smile grew wider.

“what, what are you laughing at?”

“nothing, i was just so in love with you then. i used to think that we would be together forever and ride off into the sunset in a carriage.”

jungwon inspected you as you talked, trying to decipher if there was any meaning behind your words or if it was just the liquor talking.

“i just thought we were some high school fling?” he half-joked as he nudged you with his shoulder. he didn’t want it to seem like he was serious if you were sobering up.

he felt his heart start to race as he stared at your slightly flushed face from the drinks you had, your hair fluttering as a soft breeze blew by. you were everything that jungwon had ever wanted, and here you were, telling him how much you used to love him.

wait, no, what the hell am i doing? jungwon thought to himself. it wasn’t fair to yuna. it was already unfair to her that he only started to date her to get over you. he thought that if he dated her long enough, he would stop loving you and love her instead.

and he genuinely thought it worked. fuck, he thought. i’m such a shitty person.

until he saw you with intak, flirting, dancing with him, laughing at his jokes, he had never felt so jealous in his life, and yuna had noticed. and she was upset, which was fair. what wasn’t fair was jungwon using her to get over you.

use. he hated the icky feeling that word gave him.

“i lied,” you muttered, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“what did you say?” jungwon asked, making sure that he had heard you right.

“i lied,” you repeated, eyes on everything but him. “i loved you, and i think i still do.”

your eyes finally met his as you continued, “you are everything to me, jungwon. i’ve been in love with you since forever, and i only agreed to break up because you said you wanted to.”

jungwon could feel his heart starting to beat faster as he searched your eyes for any hesitation, any sign that this was a lie, or some sort of joke. his heart beat so fast he felt like he was gonna explode as he looked into your eyes, so earnest and so genuine and so filled with love that he knew you had sobered up.

you reached for his hands in his lap, interlacing your fingers with his.

“i can’t keep this from you,” you breathed. “i love you, yang jungwon, and i know you’re dating yuna, but i just have to tell you that i love you, that i always have and it’s okay if you don’t feel the same. i don’t expect you to leave her for me or anything, but i can’t help it anymore. i love you, i love you, i love you.”

silence hung over the two of you as he tried to form a coherent sentence after your confession. it felt like suddenly his brain didn’t know how to make him talk, to make him say i love you too, or to make him do anything, really.

a minute passed, and then two as jungwon searched your eyes with the same desperation yours had– desperate to love and to be loved by the person sitting in front of you.

jungwon didn’t know who leaned closer first. he thought it was you but maybe it was him. he didn’t even feel like he was in control of his body as he leaned closer and closer, his hand moving to hold your face, searching your face for any hesitation, for any kind of doubt.

you were so close that he could smell the perfume you sprayed before you left your house and the drinks that you had earlier that night.

impatient, jungwon finally closed the gap between the two of you, your soft lips colliding with his. he could have kissed you forever, wanting to stay forever in time there. until realization hit him.

yuna.

he pulled away abruptly, your eyes still closed as you chased his lips with yours. he would have found it cute if he weren’t trying his best not to panic right now. he just kissed you. while he was still dating yuna.

he thought of the look on yuna’s face if she found out– the angry, hurt expression that she had at the party, and even worse, the tears. he would break the poor girl’s heart.

“i should go,” jungwon breathed, quickly standing up from his seat beside you. “it’s almost past my curfew.”

“wait, jungwon,” you said, grabbing onto the sleeve of his shirt before he could walk away. “i think we should talk about this before you go.”

“yeah, we can talk later,” he replied dismissively. “i just need some time to think.”

you opened your mouth to say something else– anything else to make him stay, but closed it as you saw he was already speed-walking in the direction of his house.

you thought that you would lose him forever after your breakup. you had almost lost jungwon once, and you were nearly positive that you won’t be so lucky to keep him this time.

you felt sick to your stomach, and you didn’t know if it was from the drinks or from the events that had just occurred, but nonetheless you felt nauseous.

you hunched over as you started to gag, your vomit flowing out of your mouth, tears streaming down your face.

you wiped your mouth with your sleeve, rinsing your mouth out with water as you started to tear up.

before you knew it, you felt sobs rising, your nose stuffed from crying, your throat getting dry from the sobbing. the embarrassment and sorrow was finally catching up to you– all of the years of repressed love you felt for jungwon, all of the embarrassment from him leaving after you confessed, embarrassment from being a homewrecker– it all came crashing down on you.

you couldn’t go home like this. you were sober enough to know that, with your tear streaked face, ruined makeup, and vomit smelling breath your parents would put two and two together.

your hands shakily reached for your phone in your back pocket, dialing your brother’s number and waiting for him to pick up with baited breath. your brother was your only hope.

“hello?”

“chan?” you breathed into the phone. “i need to sleepover at your place.”

—----

yuna hated this.

the waiting, the feeling of dread as she sat on her bed, awaiting jungwon’s arrival.

the fight that had ensued was horrible, but she believed she made a valid point. if he likes y/n so much he should just go be with her, she thought bitterly.

jungwon had texted her last night at around 1 in the morning, just to make sure she got home safe. yuna didn’t respond. she instead left him on read, still pissed off from the fight.

she used to get butterflies when he would send her texts to make sure she got home safe. but now she didn’t know if he did it because he liked her or if it was just out of common courtesy.

yuna was about to just walk to his house herself before she heard a knock on her door.

“hey it’s uh, me,” she heard jungwon’s muffled voice through the door. “is it okay if i come in?”

“yeah, let’s get this over with.”

she couldn’t meet his eyes as he walked in, striding over to the corner of her bed. yuna hated waiting, but she now felt dread as the pair sat in silence for a bit, the tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. she had sat nowhere near him.

usually she’d be cuddled into his side, but she instead opted to sit at the head of her bed, seemingly as far away from him as possible. she was worried that if she was too close to him, she’d crack; she’d look at his doe eyes and forgive him and that would ruin the entire point of her argument.

“so,” she cleared her throat, interrupting the silence. “did y/n get home safe?”

“yeah, she’s at her brother’s apartment. he texted me when she got there.”

“‘when she got there?’ did you not walk her there?”

“no, he picked her up from the park near our houses. but anyways, i have something important to tell you.”

yuna felt even more dread seeping into her as he finished his sentence. she should’ve seen this coming from the start. here it comes: the breakup.

“i kissed y/n last night.”

yuna’s eyes widened in surprise. she had expected the breakup, yes. she knew jungwon was emotionally cheating, but now he was physically cheating?

“wait, are you being serious right now?” she laughed in astonishment. she couldn’t believe the audacity of the man sitting in front of her.

“i know it’s bad. i feel horrible, because an amazing woman like you should never be treated as horrible as i’ve treated you, and i am so so sorry,” jungwon started, tearing up from how bad he felt. “all of the apologies in the world could never make up for how i’ve treated you. i’ve made you feel terrible and i’m just making it worse by breaking up with you to be with her.”

“i love y/n, yuna. and i’m sorry that i didn’t tell you, or that you had to find out for yourself before i even knew. you are so so perfect yuna-,”

“but i’m just not perfect for you?” she replied, tears starting to form as she breathed those words.

the silence that followed was more than enough to answer her question.

she hated this. she hated this so so much. but she didn’t hate you, or jungwon. she just hated how love worked, how she had to fall in love with the one boy who couldn’t love her back. she hated that she gave her heart away to a boy that was never going to belong to her– not fully.

she wanted to scream, to throw something, hell, maybe even hit him. she instead took a deep breath, composing herself before she said, “okay. go be with her then.”

jungwon looked over at her, wanting nothing but to comfort yuna. he may not be in love with her, but he did love her, and he still cared for her.

“i’m sorry, yuna,” jungwon said instead. “you’re an amazing girl, but you should never be anyone’s second choice, and i’m sorry for making you feel like mine.”

yuna couldn’t even look at him, fidgeting with the strings of the hoodie she wore.

“just leave, please,” she muttered.

she didn’t want him to see her cry, he had already broken her once, she didn’t want him to see her fall apart again.

with a guilty expression, jungwon hurried away, also not wanting to see her cry again. he felt gross. he felt disgusted with himself for treating her that way. he didn’t like the person he was with yuna, and he felt sick thinking about how heartbroken she was; how she was so hurt that she couldn’t even look at him.

—------

it has been two weeks since your kiss with jungwon, and you hadn’t heard a word from him since. not a single call or text, hell, he didn’t even acknowledge your existence when you walked by him in the halls.

you had seen yuna around, but seeing as jungwon wasn’t joined at her hip like he used to be, you assumed that things didn’t end quite so well between the two. knowing that you were the cause made you want to never show your face ever again, especially because of the dirty looks yuna’s friends have been giving you.

you were relieved it was the last day of the school year; you’d never have to see yuna again and feel the guilt at seeing the sadness in her eyes.

you walked into the bathroom, wanting to wash your hands after eating your lunch, when you saw yuna, touching up on her makeup in the mirror. she looked at you through the mirror above the sink, before going back to her makeup.

the tension was so thick you didn’t know if you should just leave or hide in a bathroom stall until she left.

“i’m not gonna bite, you know,” yuna chuckled.

you smiled back nervously as you started to make your way to the sink.

“yuna i’m really sorry,” you sighed, mustering whatever courage and dignity you had left.

“it’s okay,” yuna replied, finally meeting your gaze. “although it was wrong for you guys to have kissed, i saw the breakup coming from miles away. he was never mine to begin with.”

you were taken aback just by how calm she was, with the way she spoke those words with such elegance and grace. she had every right to be angry with you, to yell at you and call you a homewrecker.

“even if you did think you were going to break up, that still doesn’t excuse what i did, and i really am sorry,” you said, trying to project every feeling of sympathy and sincerity you could in that one sentence. “i’m not asking you to forgive me, or jungwon, but i just wanted to tell you that you really are a cool person, and you’ve always been so kind to me, even now. all of this for a boy, and he hasn’t even talked to me in the past two weeks.”

“wait, he hasn’t reached out to you at all?” yuna asked, confused. “i thought he would say something to you at least.”

“did he say he would?” you replied, confusion reaching you as well.

“no,” yuna replied, fixing her hair in the mirror. “i just assumed so because he’s in love with you.”

once again, you were stunned by her nonchalance. “he’s not in love with me.”

“don’t be silly,” yuna smiled softly. “i can’t tell if dating jungwon was the best or worst six months of my life, to be honest.”

“don’t get me wrong, he was a good boyfriend,” yuna backtracked quickly after seeing the guilt on your face. “he did the usual boyfriend stuff, and he really did try, but i could just always tell that his heart was always yours.”

you couldn’t meet yuna’s gaze as she said this, your face hot with shame. you felt so bad for her, and you didn’t quite know what to say in response.

“i’m sorry that things ended this way,” you finally said.

“it’s okay, it was gonna happen sooner or later,” yuna replied. “but if i’m right, then you should probably go talk to him, he’s probably going insane with guilt right now over me, and over you. bro’s got a lot on his plate.”

you gave a small chuckle at the last sentence, making yuna smile a bit.

“well thank you for the talk yuna, but i’ve gotta go. i think i need to go find jungwon.”

yuna felt her heart break a bit at the words, but she smiled anyways and said bye as she watched you leave the bathroom. yuna didn’t know if she was supposed to cry or feel happy for you and jungwon, but she did know that she was right. again. she knew his heart had always belonged to you. anyone could see that.

—--------

trying to find jungwon was easier than you expected. he was sitting on a swing, at the park that you became his, then wasn’t his anymore, and then confessed your love to him. there was so much that had happened at this park that it made your head hurt a bit just thinking about it.

“is it okay if i sit here?” you asked, motioning to the swing beside him.

“of course you can,” jungwon replied.

the two of you sat in silence.

“i don’t think we should be friends anymore,” you finally spoke up.

he jerked his head to look at you, shock coursing through him. “wait, why not?”

you took a deep breath before saying, “i can’t be friends with you anymore because i’m in love with you. there hasn’t been a moment since i’ve met you that i haven’t been.”

his heart skipped a beat at your words.

this was it, this is what you’d been waiting for since the day you laid eyes on jungwon. but you didn’t think it would go quite like this. you sat there for a moment as jungwon studied you, and you wished he would say something, anything.

“but did you ever consider how i felt?” he finally asked, his voice cracking ever so slightly. “have you ever considered that maybe i’ve felt the same way?”

you felt your breath catch in your throat as he continued, “i’ve seen you everyday since we were five when your family moved in next door. but i didn’t really see you until freshman year, sitting in class by the window, your hair flowing from the breeze that came through, doodling in your notebook instead of paying attention to the lesson. and when you caught me staring, you smiled and waved, and i swear i fell in love with you that day. that day, i knew my heart would always be yours.”

“so please,” jungwon pleaded. “please, do whatever you want with it. you could break it a million times over and it would still be yours.”

now this, this was exactly you had always dreamed of.

you couldn’t stop yourself from kissing him, trying to convey all the repressed love you’ve had for him for years through the kiss. you loved him. you loved every single part of jungwon, every flaw, every imperfection, everything that made him him.

“so does this mean we’re official?” jungwon grinned as he pulled away, a playful look in his eyes. you smiled back, feeling the heart eyes in your gaze and the way your heart melted just by looking at him.

“took you long enough.”

802 notes · View notes

skzdarlings · 8 months

Text

verisimilitude ; hyunjin x reader ; one-shot

masterlist.

( READ ON AO3. )

You are a self-identified no-nonsense curmudgeon. Your best friend is an eccentric pretty boy. You accidentally send him an explicit video of yourself. What's the worst that can happen?

pairing: hwang hyunjin/reader content info: romantic comedy. best friends to lovers. curly-haired reader because mood. accidental sexting. accidental voyeurism. sexual tension. resolved sexual tension. very explicit sexual content. not so much dom/sub but hyunjin explicitly prefer control. sexual discovery. very horny leads lol. (word count: 19500 words.)

You look like Hyunjin’s lawyer again.

Your best friend has gravitated to a somewhat more punk persona in recent years. You say somewhat because you are not sure it runs deeper than aesthetic, though he would probably be forgiven on account of his perfect face. His good looks combined with his natural charisma lets him get away with most things.

His vibrant red hair catches the sunlight like a painted flame, a perfect stroke of red against the beige canvas of the art gallery’s exterior. He is slouching against the wall, hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, squinting in the light. He looks like a rather put upon a vampire given the dark garb and eyeliner.

Then he turns his head and sees you. You are wearing one of your usual blazers and modest skirts, your untameable mess of curls twisted into an updo that is fighting (and losing) against the wind. You try not to feel too preposterous, peeling bits of hair out of your mouth as you approach him.

He smiles. Some people think his smiles look a bit smarmy and you suppose they are not wrong, his lips perpetually quirked like a punchline just occurred to him, but you know your best friend well. Despite the intimidating ring of dark eye-make up, his eyes are alight with a great deal of affection. If you were prone to sentimentality, you might concede a heart flutter.

You clear your throat and march ahead. He saunters up the path to you. You meet halfway.

“Hi, pretty girl,” he says.

He is the only person allowed to call you that.

“Hello, Hyunjin,” you say. You lack his playful charm so you do not have a nickname to return. You are more comfortable around Hyunjin than anyone else on earth, and you are still awkward around him. “Thank you for the invitation,” you say. “I appreciate you might have otherwise wanted the time to yourself, so I hope I am not imposing by accepting.”

He laughs. When all you do is blink at him, stone-faced, he covers his mouth with a delicate touch of his long fingers, still smirking behind them.

“Sorry, why wouldn’t I want you to say yes?” he asks. “We always go to the new exhibitions together.”

You tuck back an errant curl only for another to whip across your brow.

“Well,” you say, tucking that one back too. “Since I am temporarily living with you, I thought my company might grow wearisome in a way it usually does not. Familiarity breeding contempt and all that.”

Though you state this observation with your usual pragmatic detachment, you are very insecure about it. You gave this risk a great deal of consideration prior to moving in with Hyunjin. You are only staying in his apartment’s spare bedroom for a few months while your disaster of a townhouse undergoes repairs (the upstairs bathroom flooded again), but you have never lived with Hyunjin before. You are aware of your short-comings and you were very worried that your best friend was going to tire of you within a week.

It has been a month now and he has shown no signs of despising your existence, but it is still best to brace oneself for every eventuality.

He just smiles and puts both hands in his pockets.

“Are you getting sick of me?” he asks.

Another ringlet whips across your face.

“Good grief,” you say, frantically pushing it aside. “Of course not! How could anyone ever get sick of you?” What a preposterous thought. Hyunjin just has to wink for the universe to re-arrange itself. People adore him. He is handsome and funny and charming and talented and intelligent. You have known him for most of your life and you are still unearthing his many intricate layers. As if you could ever grow tired of him. “I think that’s the most foolish thing you’ve ever said,” you say with complete sincerity.

He laughs some more, tossing his head back so all that red hair flutters behind him. The wind co-operates with his hair, of course, working in tandem with the sunlight to flatter him.

“Are you sure? I’ve said a lot of foolish things,” he says.

You sputter when a curl flies into your mouth. You push it away.

“Yes, well,” you say. “That much is true too.”

He looks at you for a moment. You can’t imagine why. The sunlight is beaming right in your eyes and the wind is beating you to a pulp. Maybe you look so hideous that he is contemplating a means of escape.

Then one hand lifts out of his pocket, long fingers reaching for you. It is very unexpected. You stare into his face, a stoic mask concealing your confusion. His eyes do not meet yours, his gaze on a loose curl. He is gentle in the way he scoops it up and smoothly tucks it behind your ear. A shiver erupts under the brush of his fingertips, that heart flutter loosing itself when his touch lingers.

Then he smiles and puts his hand back in his pocket.

“Sweet?” he asks.

“Excuse me?”

“Do you want a sweet?” He whips an open bag of gummies out of his pocket.

“Oh.” You look at the bag. “Um. No.”

“Are you sure?” He shakes the bag. “It’s your favourite.”

“Oh.” Your attention went awry with the race of your heart but you do observe the candy is one you enjoy. “Okay. Thank you.” You take a few and pop them in your mouth.

He upturns the bag over his mouth, finishing off the sugar. You hope your eyes don’t widen at the flick of his tongue. Oh, it really is cumbersome when your nether region gets an idea about Hyunjin. You try to ignore the heat down there.

“Come on, pretty girl,” he says, already striding away. The man is at least 80% per cent leg so it puts him ahead rather quickly.

You are too refined to scamper-and-scurry, but you might pitter-and-patter to catch up.

You are able to lose yourself in the art exhibition. You and Hyunjin share a meal afterward, discussing everything at length. Hyunjin is a little quieter than usual so you apologize for speaking too much. He is gazing at you, his chin is propped in his hand. Surprise flickers in his expression when you apologize, but he recovers, waving his hand like it’s no matter.

You return to his home and separate for the evening. You to your studies, him to his evening work-out.

You are in the apartment’s quaint living room when Hyunjin gets back from the gym. He is an absolute sight, bare-faced, his red hair yanked into a half-ponytail. There is a subtle, rolling musculature to his arms, proudly displayed in his sleeveless shirt, and he is glistening with sweat from top to bottom. It should be gross. You pride yourself on cleanliness.

But good grief. He is gorgeous.

You are sitting cross-legged on the couch, comfortably dressed down in a sweatshirt and pyjama pants. You peek at him over the top of your book only to find him already staring at you. He is rubbing the back of his neck with a towel, his arm flexed. When he catches you looking, his lips pull into a lazy smile.

You duck behind your book again. It is a poor shield, or maybe he is a cunning adversary, because your heart keeps racing anyway.

“Whatcha reading?” he asks. You can hear his slow approach. The towel is tossed somewhere.

“A book,” you say.

“Funny,” he says. He is in front of you now. You have no time to strategize before he plucks the book out of your hand and holds it over his head.

“Hyunjin!” You muster all the indignant attitude you can. “That’s not funny. We’re not children anymore. Return my book at once.”

“I want a hug first,” he says, his full lips in a silly pout.

“Out of the question.” You hope you do not sound as flustered as you feel. “You’re disgusting. Look at the state of you.”

“Please?” He blinks his long lashes at you.

You stand up and try to look imposing, hands on your hips. His smile does not diminish. He waves the book in the air.

You lunge, diving at the book and failing spectacularly. He holds it out of reach, laughing, then he tries to wrap you up in a hug. He smells like sweat and exertion and it makes you think of sex. This is sufficiently startling enough to cause a fumble. You spill backwards, a frantic hand thoughtlessly grasping for an anchor. Your fingers hook in the neck of his shirt which has the predictable outcome of dragging him with you onto the couch.

His more athletic reflexes kick in, just enough that he drops the book and catches himself with his hands. He successively suspends his weight above you, which is nice, but you still thump your head on the arm of the couch, which is less nice.

“Are you okay?” he asks when you hiss and grab your head. The laughter has left his voice, replaced with genuine concern.

“No,” you say, petulantly. “A horrible sweaty man stole my book and beat me up.”

He laughs, a twinkling sound that enchants you despite everything.

“Poor baby,” he says. “That sounds so disgusting. Will a hug help…?”

“Don’t you dare—hmmf!” He lowers himself and squishes you. You can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of you, partially because he swipes his nose on your neck and it tickles, largely because his laughter is infectious. “Oh,” you say, pushing his face away. “You are a horrible person.”

He giggles with boyish mirth. It is at odds with the man he is, all hard planes and sturdy lines, an unfamiliar twinkle in his dark eyes. You look back at him, at a loss for words. Even if you were the sort of person to confess attraction, you would surely seem strange for finding his dishevelled appearance so desirable.

Finally, you push him, diverting your gaze with an eye roll.

“All right,” you say. “That’s quite enough now. There’s a shower at your disposal and I recommend you make use of it sooner than later. Go on, get.”

He obliges, but not without a cheeky kiss to your forehead. It flusters you more than a chaste kiss should.

He just winks, because of course the charmer is unaffected by such an innocent touch. Hyunjin is too gushy and romantic to womanize, but he is certainly liberal with his sexual appetite. You had the displeasure of running into a one-night stand your first weekend here. Hyunjin left for work and let her sleep, assuming she would show herself out. She was a pretty chatterbox and she bounded into the kitchen to strike up a very one-sided conversation with you in your bathrobe.

He did apologize for that. He knows you do not like unexpected visitors at the best of times, never mind first thing in the morning, and certainly never mind ones he knew intimately. Fortunately, it was the first and last time you made scrambled eggs for his hook-up.

You are not in the habit of hook-ups, to say the very least, preferring a serving of scrambled eggs for one. You had one boyfriend a few years ago but he was not the sort of man to tackle you onto the couch in a sweaty, flirtatious tangle. You would have bopped him on the nose for trying, in fact. Hyunjin really does get away with everything.

Your nethers are getting ideas again. The territory below your belt is usually well-behaved but unfortunately it lacks any sense when it comes to Hyunjin. More time spent in proximity appears to be worsening its condition.

You assume a blank face in the hopes of concealing any trace of arousal, watching Hyunjin amble his sweaty way to the bathroom.

Oh dear. You are very wound up. Something will have to be done or you will never sleep tonight.

You are blessedly granted an opportunity to satisfy your baser urges when Hyunjin emerges fully dressed for an evening out. Some friends are at a bar down the street and they invited Hyunjin to join them. Hyunjin tries to cajole you into joining him, promising it’s just a few drinks and teasing that your book won’t go anywhere, but your book is not how you intend to pass the time alone so his encouragement does not tempt you.

“I’ll be back soon,” he says, shrugging on a leather vest. His back is to you so you openly admire his form, his arms on display, his long legs, his ringed fingers as they gather his hair to tie in a knot. He turns around before leaving, giving you one last finger-wiggle wave and a bounce of his eyebrows.

He looks sinfully good. You hope you look casual. Innocently awaiting a quiet evening.

Fifteen minutes later you are sitting in front of the full-length bedroom mirror, admiring yourself in a white satin babydoll. Flaws like frizzy curls or unflattering shapes seem insignificant in the soft lighting and lingerie. Your curls seem curlier, your face lovelier, your body more tempting than ever.

Though the idea of pursuing a real fling is mortifying, you lament the lack of company in an abstract way. You feel pretty and ready and wound up. When such a fancy strikes, the best form of satisfaction is found in self-appreciation.

The taboo of filming yourself always triples your arousal. Even if there is no real audience, you can’t help but feel regarded.

Eyes closed, phone camera filming, you imagine a certain pair of dark eyes on you. You make the vaguest attempt to think of something else, peripherally aware that you shouldn’t fantasize about your best friend like this, but the attempt is useless. It will always be Hyunjin. Hyunjin with his fiery red hair, his smirks, his expressive brows and dark eyes. Hyunjin’s hands, his fluid hips, his athleticism. Hyunjin in black and leather, so contrary to your modest simplicity. Hyunjin sweaty and raw and determined, pinning you under him.

Hyunjin, the person you know and like and love more than anything.

You lift the babydoll and twist, filming yourself through the mirror, showing where a thick toy disappears inside of you. You rock a little, so wet you can hear it, every nerve tingling as you become someone else in your reflection. With the apartment to yourself, you don’t restrain any noises, especially when you sit back and fuck yourself with the toy. You stop filming because you need that hand to finish, but you are so close that it only takes a few touches to climax.

You slump back, satisfied for a while, then a little embarrassed. You have a quick shower then climb into bed where you can’t help but watch your video. You imagine a particular someone else watching it and it winds you up all over again. You are still wet and sensitive, your fingers slipping smoothly into your shorts. Your put the phone down and think of Hyunjin’s long fingers, his breath on your neck and his lips grazing your skin as he works his lovely hand inside you.

When you are finished, truly finished, you feel momentarily miserable in your loneliness. You try to imagine a version of yourself that went with Hyunjin to the bar, but even that fantasy only gets you so far. Nothing would have happened. Nothing has ever happened.

Hyunjin interrupts your wallowing stream of self-pity. He texts you a rather exasperated-looking selfie, captioning it with, I miss you, I’d rather be at home.

It makes you smile. It is probably foolish, but suppressing it is useless so you surrender to the warm glow in your chest.

You text back a heart. He replies, you never told me what you were reading. He must be truly bored if he is texting about your books, but you dutifully reply like there is nothing unusual about the question. He sends back a smiling emoji and a string of hearts.

You fall asleep after that. You wake in the morning to a slew of missed text messages, Hyunjin insisting that he is having the worst night of his life because you didn’t come with him. This is nonsense, of course, but he attacks you with an arsenal of teary-eyed emojis so you send an obligatory heart his way. You are too sleepy to formulate a rejoinder, much less type one, so it will have to suffice.

You click through your phone to wake up, still foggy after exhausting all notifications. You open your photo album and find your video from last night. You click on it just as a message alert swings down. You instinctively swipe it away, but your clumsy finger opens the messenger. You click around a little haphazardly, finger flying everywhere.

After a bit of sleepy swiping, you close everything then check the message. The text you just swiped was from Hyunjin, some goofy good morning remark with a squinty-eyed selfie under it. Hyunjin does his make-up so severely these days so you like his softer, bare-faced selfies, especially because you know he sends them to no one else. He will post elaborate photos all over his social media, but the simple stuff is for you.

But you have no time to enjoy the selfie, because you are distracted by your own unwitting reply.

Oh no.

You snap up so quickly that it nearly causes whiplash. You are wide awake now, staring at the paused video of you in a white satin babydoll.

You slap a hand over your mouth. For a long moment, all you can do is stare. Your head feels fuzzy, a radiating aura of fantastical insanity clouding your periphery. Then you realize it is actually just your hair, because you fell asleep so suddenly and didn’t put on your bonnet.

You look in the mirror. You look like someone electrocuted you. Fitting, because that’s what you feel like.

Your phone buzzes. In your silent but sublime mania, you dropped your phone facedown on the blanket. You are tempted to hurl the demonic device across the room but that will solve nothing.

You pick up the phone. This is probably what execution feels like.

Hyunjin, perpetually artistic in every capacity, even the literary, summarizes the exchange with one poetic text:

You fling yourself facedown on the bed and kick your legs like a petulant child. The sky does not open, you are not struck by lightning, and the earth does not gobble you up, so you roll over and shakily type a reply.

That was an accident, you write. Surprisingly, once you start typing, it is hard to stop. You continue:

Oh my good gracious, Hyunjin.

Hyunjin, I am so sorry. I cannot apologize to you enough.

I assure you that was a complete accident.

I would never accost you so unsuspectingly with unprovoked licentious content.

An ellipses appears in the corner, Hyunjin typing a reply. It feels like your stomach has folded in on itself. You lay there with your hand cupped over it, willing yourself to explode. But no, it would be very rude to explode in Hyunjin’s spare bedroom. Bad enough you have attacked him with your inappropriate spank fodder, it would be uncouth to make him clean your spattered guts off the wall.

Hyunjin finally replies, that makes sense… you aren’t the unprovoked licentious content type usually…

I assure you I am not, you reply. I keep these videos to myself. I would never intentionally spring them on you.

There’s more than one?? he replies, and you are mortified all over again. Maybe you should just explode after all.

I assure you I will keep those where they are, you reply. I cannot apologize enough. If you want me to leave, I will pack my things immediately. You are not one for extreme emotion, but you feel an unfamiliar stabbing in your eyes. You realize with horror that it is the threat of tears as you imagine Hyunjin banishing you from his life forever. Other people come and go but there is only one Hyunjin. He is irreplaceable in your esteem, even if he dresses like a goth Las Vegas showgirl.

His replies come flying in, one after the other:

Whoa whoa

it’s okay

calm down

pretty girl hey hey hey

I don’t want you going anywhere

You take a breath and calm yourself. You do Hyunjin a great disservice by thinking he would destroy your friendship over an accident. You blame your embarrassment for your poor rationality.

I should be apologizing to you, he says. He continues swiftly:

I kinda clicked on it…?

I didn’t know what it was. But I stopped once I did

I feel really bad

See baby now we’re both embarrassed idiots <3

You can’t help but laugh, just a little, the entire mishap suddenly comically preposterous. You smile fondly at your phone. The unexpected address of baby gives you a heart flutter, but then the rest of it makes you pause. A different embarrassment creeps into the corner of your brain, something gross and mean that interprets his words ungenerously. Stopping would be the gentlemanly thing to do, so you should commend his restraint. Still, some half-insane part of you is offended that the only emotion it invoked in him was “bad”.

It made him feel bad. Goodness. Talk about an ego blow.

The least you can do is soothe his conscience. You have already put your foot in your mouth, not to mention toys in unspeakable places, so you figure another penetrative misstep cannot hurt the situation. You write, I don’t mind you watching it. I just feel horrific for sending it in the first place. I really am sorry.

The ellipses appears. Then disappears. Then appears. Then disappears. Then appears. Then disappears.

You start to wonder if you should check on him. He is just one room over, after all. But you would rather explode once and for all than face him right now.

The buzzer goes off in the main room, signalling a visitor outside. Hyunjin finally texts, one sec. Then you hear him clamouring around in the next room. Hyunjin is very graceful when he deigns to apply himself but other times he has the equilibrium of an overgrown gazelle. All those limbs clatter around his bedroom and you think he knocks a lamp over.

It sounds like the visitor is just a package delivery. You leave him to his devices. In the face of chaos, routine is a reliable companion. You get up to dress yourself for the day. Your hair is trying to force its way into a new dimension so it should take a while to fix.

Everything will be fine.

Everything is fine until it is not. Well, Hyunjin’s complexion is red as his hair when you meet face-to-face, but he recovers with an expected degree of poise and equanimity. Despite your own internal chaos, you feign a similar indifference.

Verisimilitude, you tell yourself. Pretend everything is fine and everything will be fine.

You think there might be an undercurrent of awkwardness to your interactions, but your social ineptitude makes it difficult to discern. Your usual frankness fails as deliberately enquiring after Hyunjin’s opinion would consequently highlight the very issue you are striving to ignore. Verisimilitude means nothing if you look him in the eye and ask if your pussy has made the friendship awkward.

After a few days of polite camaraderie, you opt to solve your problems by running away. You inform Hyunjin you will be occupied with a research project and thus mostly absent for the duration of its completion. By the time you emerge from the depths of the university library, hopefully this entire embarrassing situation will be forgotten.

You throw yourself into your academic distraction. A truly comprehensive research project encompasses obstacles, minute quandaries you inevitably resolve, but this time it feels like there are no answers to be found. No resolutions, no conclusions.

Your anxiety is ultimately exacerbated. Even your dreams suffer. You wake multiple nights in a row from nightmares caused by stress. Your usual pragmatic thoughtfulness abandons you in the dark, every shadow just another terror waiting to unleash itself.

You wake from yet another nightmare. Your heart is palpitating and you are too hot under your covers. You kick to freedom and swing out of bed, whipping your silk bonnet onto the floor in a rare display of aggression. You are frustrated with your seemingly inescapable burdens. You want to pick up your phone and text Hyunjin despite the late hour, but that is the one thing you vehemently cannot do right now.

You sigh and leave bed. It is the middle of the night so you cannot start the day, but maybe a glass of water will refresh you.

It seems your friend had the same idea. Hyunjin is puttering around the kitchen when you stumble into the soft golden lamplight.

“Hey,” he says, not unfriendly but maybe a little uncertain.

“Hello,” you duly reply.

You are definitely awake now. Hyunjin is standing there wearing a pair of black boxers and a t-shirt. His red hair is loose around his bare face, unkempt but somehow still charming. He is so effortlessly beautiful. You feel like a mongrel in your baggy shirt and panties, your hair down like a messy lion mane.

You try not to stare at him, meeting his gaze politely only to find him blinking quite wildly, a stuttering breath spilling over his full lips. He clamps his mouth shut and returns your stare, smiling a thin smile that does not reach his eyes.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

It is a thoughtless query, no doubt. The sort of inane question one poses because decorum dictates it is appropriate chatter. Are you okay. Yes, how are you.

But you are looking at the beautiful and completely unattainable man you are so irrevocably in love with, and you feel horrible and disgusting, and you sent an embarrassing video that somehow humiliated him even more than you, and even your reliable books and academic joys are lacking these days.

You can count on one hand the number of times you have cried over the years. It is not something that comes easily to you. You are not made of stone, despite the occasional lambaste at your expense, but your emotions seldom manifest according to the unspoken rules of human conduct. But right now your eyes strain and your throat feels rough. You sniff and shake your head.

“No,” you say. “I’m not okay.”

A single tear falls. From you, that is practically a waterfall.

Hyunjin snaps out of whatever trance had him so enthralled. You cannot see him clearly through your watery eyes, but you feel his hands as they wrap around your arms. Hyunjin is an artist, those long fingers deft and nimble and steady. You shiver when he brushes your hair off your neck, when he cups your face in his hand and strokes your cheek tenderly.

“Hey, hey, pretty girl,” he says. “What’s this? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you say automatically. You hate being a burden. Feelings belong in bottles, not streaming down faces in salty rivulets in the middle of the night when everyone is in their underwear.

But it is too late to spare your dignity. Hyunjin is wiping away your tears and looking at you with abject concern, his expressive dark brows furrowed and his eyes so intensely locked on yours. You heave a sigh.

“A lot of things,” you admit. “I’m sorry, Hyunjin. It’s just stress. My research. You know how it is.”

He does not look satisfied, all that concern still scrawled across his face. He swipes his thumb across your cheek again. Then he is pulling you towards his chest, arms open for an embrace that makes no demands but simply offers. You are usually stiff and awkward when people hug you, but Hyunjin is not just people. You fall into his arms and all but collapse there.

Your next sigh is filled with relief, your head on his shoulder and your hands curled up on his chest. He runs his palm down your hair, soothingly, his other arm secure around you.

You do not know how long you stand there. Long enough he stops catching his pinky on errant curls. Soon he is smoothly running his fingers down your hair, a gentle rhythm that lulls you to drowsiness even while standing on your feet.

“Come on,” Hyunjin says when he sees your drooping eyelids.

You blink to attention, looking at him questioningly. He gives you a quick smile then takes your hand. To your surprise, he leads you to his bedroom. The lights are off but the blinds are open and an ocean of blue moonlight floods the room. It is bright enough you can make your way around his bed without stubbing any toes.

While he folds back the bedcovers, you stop at his desk, brow crinkling at the scraps littering his work space. His canvas depicts something floral, half-painted and oversaturated but clearly a bundle of flowers. The rough sketches scribbled in the margins of his drafts do not depict flowers. They are little portraits, some doodled distractedly with wiggly lines, and others more precisely drawn, painstakingly, almost lovingly.

That’s me, you think, looking at the woman who overwhelms his art. It must be. The unmistakable cascade of curls makes it irrefutable. But the likeness is far too flattering to bear your full resemblance. This girl is extremely pretty, even if she does have your quirky, lopsided smile. Either Hyunjin has met your better looking doppelganger, or… this is simply how he sees you.

“This is your room,” you say instead of that drawing is me. It would be embarrassing if he denied it. It would be even more embarrassing if he confirmed it.

“Ha-ha, yes,” Hyunjin says, none-the-wiser. He is arranging pillows for you. By the time he looks your way, you are facing the bed. He beckons you over. “Come on,” he says. “Like the old days. It’ll make everything better. I promise.”

Your heart is working overtime in its rushing and pounding. You shuffle to the bed, smiling your quirky smile then feeling even more feverish, thinking about him having your smile memorized. Oh dear, why is that so deeply embarrassing? It should be a compliment. Maybe it is because no one else ever looks at you that closely, at least not with such affection.

You are not good with attention. You were bullied for your peculiarities quite badly in childhood. Invisibility became something you sought, because the alternative was always much worse. Attention meant derision. If someone was paying attention to your half-smiles or awkward reactions, it was for the express purpose of mocking them.

When you were ten years old, Hyunjin and his family moved in next door. Those ramshackle houses, long weathered and much loved, leaned towards each other as if magnetized. At the closet joining, the sill of your bedroom window touched his.

An elderly widow previous owned his house. She had a puppy who would scamper up to that window. You were quite devastated to learn a boy would be replacing the dog. Boys and dogs were both slobbery creatures, but at least puppies could fetch.

You were resolved to ignore your new neighbours. You spared a fleeting glance at the moving van then occupied yourself with a book.

A few hours later, your peace was forever disturbed. A toy car flew in your window and landed at your feet. You popped your curly head over the sill to face a dark-haired, dimple-cheeked boy.

“Meet me downstairs,” he said. He did not wait for an answer, dashing away before you could even blink at him.

You picked up the toy car and marched downstairs, determined to return it and explain to this boy, in no uncertain terms, that he was not allowed to throw things in your window, that he could have hit your head or one of your dolls, and unless he was prepared to offer financial compensation he should keep his cars to himself.

The second your feet touched the lawn, he was there. He grabbed your hand and dragged you off, already prattling about where he came from and where he was starting school and his favourite food and – everything. You did not speak for a whole ten minutes.

“My name is Hyunjin,” he finally said, after regaling you with the detailed events of his decade-long life. “What’s yours?”

You told him. You also returned his toy car but you could no longer remember the script for your lecture. He smiled at you, took your hand, and raced off again, towing you behind him.

Hyunjin was very loved, even as a child. It never occurred to him that someone might not like him. He made friends so effortlessly. His confidence was easy, his gravitas electrifying even at that age.

His congeniality was infectious and you found yourself reciprocating his enthusiasm. He was a natural showman and a creative visionary even at that age, coming up with detailed games of pretend with very involved storylines. You ran amok in your yards, dressed in your costumes, and at night you giggled at your windows, close enough that if you stretched out every finger you could clasp hands.

Climbing across that meager gap was an obvious inevitability. When you were teenagers, your parents expressly forbade spending the night unsupervised. The boy-girl dynamic concerned them despite your ardent protestations that it was not like that. It just meant you got good at sneaking around.

You sit on his bed now, remembering the many nights you curled up together just like this. You would talk about utter nonsense and you would talk about your deepest thoughts, at least until the sound of your father’s footsteps sent Hyunjin hurtling back towards the window.

There are no interruptions now. You lay down beside him. You squeak when he tugs you across the bed, pulling you closer to him. You find yourself clinging to him, like you are suspended in that blue ocean of moonlight and he is your only life preserver. He does not seem to mind, wrapping his arm around you, fingers tracing circles down your spine.

“Your research will be fine,” he says. “I wish I could help with those things, but I’m not smart like you are. You’ll figure it out, okay, baby?”

You hope he does not notice how the pet name makes you shiver. It really is quite unfair. How is a person meant to maintain verisimilitude if Hwang Hyunjin is calling them baby so nonchalantly?

The flattery brings discomfort so you deflect. “I’m not that smart,” you say. “I’m just pathetic enough to waste my life in a stack of books.”

You concede the self-deprecation is fishing for reassurance. You burrow yourself deeper at his side.

“Hey,” he says sharply, tugging on a lock of hair so you look up at him. He tsks and shakes his head, wisps of red hair appearing dark in the moonlight and falling into his face as he gazes at you. “Don’t talk about my girl like that,” he says with another playful tug. “You know what happens when people do that.”

You find yourself smiling despite yourself. Because, yes, Hyunjin has often defended you. One time, when you were about fifteen, you were at his house with him and his school friends. You were all in the yard and you excused yourself to wash your hands. You returned just in time to see Hyunjin backhand one of the boys. The boy stumbled then swung back. Soon everyone was trying to pull the pair of them apart while they bit and kicked and swung at each other.

When everyone went home, you and Hyunjin sat on his bed. You were cleaning a nasty cut on his cheek, where the other boy’s ring broke skin.

“Stop that now,” you said, because he was dramatically hissing and cringing while you rubbed ointment in his wound. “You brought this on yourself,” you scolded him. “I hope you learned your lesson. There is absolutely no argument worth escalating to that degree of violence, you understand?”

“There is,” he said, pouting.

“No.” You pinched his arm and he yelped. “There isn’t.”

“This time there was,” he said. Your mouth opened with a ready retort, but he interrupted, “It was you.”

There was a moment of silence, your hand still on his cheek. He was pouting into the distance and avoiding your eyes.

“What was me?” you asked after a beat.

“He called you strange,” Hyunjin said. “And other things. I told him to stop and he didn’t. So I made him stop.”

It honestly never occurred to you that someone might stand up for you. You hardly even defended yourself, long since resigned to the reality that some people were just not nice. You were stunned into silence at your friend’s confession. Only when he looked at you, a tentative sideways glance, did you clear your throat and nod.

“Well,” you said. “I am strange. If you’re going to get into a fight, then next time make it about something worthwhile.”

He smiled. You smiled back.

You are quite certain you fell in love that day. Curling up in his arms felt different after that. You felt flustered and feverish, though you hid it very well. You could not bear the thought of losing his friendship and, besides, it was such a cliché. You at your nicest still looked like the before shot of every romance movie makeover and he got stopped by model scouts while lounging in his sweatpants. Cliché indeed. That story never ended well. You could not abide by it. It was better to repress and deny those feelings.

You are laying on his chest now, listening to his heartbeat, yours skipping erratically in your chest. You think your affection has only grown more over the years, despite your effort to quell the brunt of it. Those efforts seem ridiculous in the calming midnight blue, this comfortable little haven with no reality beyond the perimeter of the bed. Your thigh drifts over his naturally, your bodies angled to each other. He continues stroking your back.

“Please don’t say those things again,” he says, his voice gentler in the calming quiet.

“Sorry,” you grumble.

“So many people admire you,” he continues. “I… I do. I know I’m a dumbass and my opinion isn’t worth much… but I think you’re the best. You know that, right?”

“Yes,” you say in a weak voice, feeling watery again. You sniff. “And you’re not a dumbass. Your opinion means a lot.”

His hand slides up and dives under all that hair, then he cups the nape of your neck. You hide your face in his shoulder when he pulls you even closer. Your palm is over his heart. You feel the racing thrum.

“Were you having nightmares?” he asks, because he knows you too well.

“Yes,” you admit. “The usual stress dreams.”

“Poor baby,” he says, massaging your neck. “I wish there was something I could do.”

Keep touching me like that, you almost say, your frankness compelling you to blurt that vulnerable truth. That his touch feels so good it makes you forget all your insecurities and grievances. You will think clearly when he lets go, but right now his deft massage loosens the tension in your neck and shoulders. You feel yourself go lax against him, limbs like jelly, and warmth spreading from somewhere low and deep within you.

Your hand leaves his chest. Dreamy and absent-mindedly, you reach to touch him like he is touching you.

All you do is tuck some hair behind his ear, then trail your fingers ever so lightly down the side of his neck. It is barely a caress.

Despite the lightness of the touch, you feel his reaction. Quick and unquestionable, his breath catches like he is surprised and his whole body jerks toward you. Your leg is still thrown over his middle. You can feel how fast he gets hard.

Men just do that, you think, even while remembering your ex-boyfriend did not react that way, not that fast, and not to that kind of touch. You try to reason with yourself regardless, coming up with a million biological reasons why your best friend is getting turned on. It has absolutely nothing to do with you wrapping around him in bed wearing nothing but a t-shirt and panties and tickling sensitive places on his neck.

No. It must be something else.

Feeling awkward, you lift your head to deflect. You force a smile and a weak laugh.

“You cannot judge me in the morning,” you say. “I am going to look awful. My hair is going to be standing up in ten different directions. You must promise me right now you will be gentlemanly and not deride me for the untameable monstrosity that latches onto my head overnight. Do you promise?”

He replies in a most ungentlemanly manner.

He kisses you.

His hand still cups your nape. He pulls you close. His lips are so full and his mouth so warm. You must seem limp in comparison, so shocked that you just lay there, mouth and eyes wide open. It is considerably more difficult to convince yourself this is not what it seems, that it has nothing to do with you. Unless he is in immediate need of CPR. Perhaps he is seeking resuscitation because he is feeling lightheaded.

That is ridiculous. It is you who is light-headed, eyes closing as you succumb to the dizzying dark. He takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, opening his mouth against yours.

For all that his kiss is very thorough, it is not overly demanding. He coaxes rather than takes, all slow seduction as his lips take yours, as he sucks your bottom lip then licks at your open mouth. He swallows down your gasp.

It feels like his hands are everywhere. In your hair one moment then around your waist the next. You think you are floating but then you are being pressed into the pillows. When you open your eyes, he is half on top of you, propping himself up on one arm while his other hand tilts your face up.

A stuttering thought dances on your lips, your eyes wide and breath short. Is this real? This cannot be real. Can it?

That bemused thought, tangled in your breath, dissolves into a surprised whine – a pretty, mewling sound that you did not know was inside you. You have never made that noise, not once, not even alone.

Hyunjin draws it out of you, gracefully manoeuvring himself, his thigh pressed between yours. He nudges your legs apart, somehow spreads your thighs with a gentle push of his hips. Your shirt rides up over your belly and you feel so hot and flushed, realizing you are barely clothed. Somehow, before now, it did not truly occur to you. It was a mere observation as you fumbled through your various anxieties.

Now it is all you can think about it, how vulnerable you are, how little there is between you. You gather fistfuls of his t-shirt when he presses against you, when he keeps your thighs open with his own and brings your bodies together. You make a surprised sound, embarrassed because you are so wet and so hot where he is so hard and touching you. A million nerves come to life under his weight, sending sparks shooting to every extremity. It is a lot. It is so much. Too much?

“Hyunjin,” you rasp, clutching his shirt so tightly that your hands are shaking. “Wait.”

He stops immediately, holding himself above you.

He is out of breath, his chest moving as quickly as yours. His hair is as dishevelled for once, though it makes him look ruggedly sexy. There is already a sheen of perspiration on his hairline. His heart is thundering where you touch his chest.

“Okay?” he asks, breathlessly.

You nod, taking a few deep breaths before your voice is under control. “I just… overwhelmed… I think…”

It all happened so fast. One moment you were thinking about how he would never want you that way, and then suddenly he was kissing you like it was the only thing keeping him alive.

Hyunjin is something of a rakish libertine, but his partners are always so enthusiastic and friendly, all his pursuits fully consensual even in their brevity. He would never use and discard someone. He would certainly never use you. But your heart is brimming with emotions and this is causing them to bubble and boil over. You cannot, under any circumstances, be physical with him and just move on. You do not work like that.

You have written papers, won awards for your ability to string sentences together. You cannot find two words to put together right now. Nothing to explain why you have to stop, how you do not want to stop, how desperately you love him, why you want him. Why is it so hard to say? Is it hard for everyone or is this another peculiarity of yours? It is always so hard to tell.

You close your eyes and catch your breath. He gives you space, laying down beside you while catching his own breath. He runs a hand through his hair, smoothing it back.

You look at each other at the same time.

“I still want to sleep here,” you say. You hope the words are enough. You are not upset. You still want his company.

He nods. “Of course,” he says, his voice rough in a way you have never heard before. It sends an electric shock through your body, igniting between your legs. You push your shirt down when his gaze wanders there and he swallows, hard. He lays flat on his back and closes his eyes, his lips moving like he is murmuring to himself. You think he might be counting.

You lay back as well, looking at his handsome profile then up at the ceiling. You are not sure that counting will slow the race of your heart or the muddled mess of your mind. You try anyway, backwards from one-hundred.

You are asleep before fifty.

You wake to a predictable mess of hair. You yawn and stretch and scratch your head.

Then you remember why your hair is a mess. Why your bonnet is on the floor in a different room. That you are in Hyunjin’s bed and last night—

You look at his side of the bed. The shape of his body indents the sheets and the space is still warm. He must have just left. Your heart is already pounding like it wants to leap out of your chest. It does not feel like the healthiest way to the start the day.

You are not sure if you are giddy or terrified. How do other people cope with the sheer inundation of sensation that is wrought by desire for another person? How are you expected to carry it inside of you, all day every day, with absolutely no reprieve? How on earth are you expected to walk into the next room and start a conversation with a man who had his tongue in your mouth last night, especially when that man holds a lifetime of friendship in his hands?

At least the video you sent was an honest accident. Verisimilitude will do you no good here. There will be no pretending it did not transpire.

You should have just exploded when you had the chance.

You slide out of bed and cross the room. You poke your head out the door. The bathroom door is closed and you can hear the shower running. You take the opportunity to scurry across the apartment, back to your temporary room where you close the door then slide down it.

You turn yourself into a boneless lump on the floor. Then you huff and stand.

Something will need to be done. Conversations will need to be had. That is simply the rub of it. If he clarifies it was all a physical reaction, you will politely inform him that such a dynamic will be impossible to pursue. If he claims it was because he likes you the way you like him –

It doesn’t matter. That will not happen. You convince yourself of this, running several scripts through your head as you get yourself dressed for the day. You have a conversation with your reflection in the mirror, making some very good points to the abstract Hyunjin of your imagination. He is very compliant. If only real people could stick to your pre-determined scripts the way their imaginary counterparts do.

You stand in front of the mirror, assessing your appearance one last time. Your hair is neat as possible, the more unruly ringlets pinned back. You are wearing a modest sweater and a long skirt. You slip into your shoes and finally leave your room. You hope Hyunjin is still home. You want to talk to him while the script is fresh in your mind and your appearance is composed.

But then you see Hyunjin, making his morning coffee, also dressed for the day. He is wearing all black, shirt and suit jacket and trousers and boots, with a sparkling slash of a silver necklace. His make-up is breath-taking, severe but beautiful. It leaves you slack-jawed. He looks sleek and sexy, but still this side of rebellious with his vibrant red hair and dark make-up.

You cannot help but stare, thoroughly looking him over before you blurt, “Wow. Why do you look so good today?”

A surprised little laugh bursts out of him, almost like a yelp

“I’m taking some photos today.” His gaze is very intense. Or maybe it is the make-up. It makes your heart palpitate regardless, dark eyes fixed so resolutely on you as he smiles and says, “Thank you. You look lovely, pretty girl.”

“Nonsense,” you say quickly. “I look no different than usual.”

“You always look lovely,” he says without any hesitation.

“Be quiet,” you reply. He is already preposterously off-script.

It makes him laugh again. He covers his mouth politely, shaking his head as he pours his coffee. He offers you some but you decline. You want to speak your piece and be done with this awkward situation once and for all.

Hyunjin takes a sip of his coffee, looking at you over the rim of the cup.

This should be easy. You have the words prepared; all you have to do is say them.

“I have to go,” you say instead, because your good sense flitters into oblivion and takes your words with it.

Hyunjin chokes on his coffee, sputtering while you dash to the door. Your purse is sitting on the shoe rack so you snatch it. Your heart is racing like a prey animal, your predator a red-headed pretty boy wiping coffee off his chin as he stumbles after you. He says your name but you ignore him, fumbling around for your keys.

“I’ll be back after dinner,” you say. “Lots of research. Reading. You know how it is. I might lose track of time. We’ll talk later, yes? Yes. Okay. Goodbye.”

He reaches you when you open the door. You can see he wants to talk. You know you should talk. No good ever comes from prolonging the inevitable. But you suddenly cannot face him.

You know you are being cowardly. You know it is unkind because he might want answers too. But you are not good and open like him. You are shut off and shut down and shutting doors.

You stand in the hallway, the closed door between you. Your heart is still pounding. You take a deep breath then turn to leave. You are halfway down the corridor when you realize you need your work bag. Your purse has basic necessities but no study tools.

You stomp your foot, frustrated with yourself and this stupid emotional tempest. If only you were as cold-hearted as people said. But you feel everything with so much burning intensity that you fear it will burn you down to cinders.

You pace in the hallway for a few minutes. It accomplishes nothing but stalling for time, because you cannot go anywhere without your bag. You don’t even have your parking pass or library card. With a resigned sigh, you glumly unlock the door and step back into the apartment.

Fate has opted to spare you a chagrined return. Hyunjin is in his bedroom and does not hear you come in.

You hurry to your room. If you grab your bag and bolt, he might not even notice you returned at all.

Unfortunately, you are a disaster.

You were so frustrated yesterday, overstimulated and erupting at the slightest provocation. Then your bag strap had the audacity to catch on the doorknob, sending papers flying. In mature retaliation, you dumped all the contents of your bag on the floor. It was a mildly satisfying expulsion of frustration at the time. Now you want to shriek because it will take a few good minutes to organize and pack everything again.

You lean your door closed, leaving it cracked just a sliver. You plan another mental script, despite what little good it did last time, explaining to imaginary Hyunjin that you have deadlines and, yes, it is inconvenient, and, oh, maybe we should order take-out for dinner, yes, because everything is normal between us and no one needs to grapple with the onward progression of time and the subsequent shifting relationship dynamics therein—

You hear a creak. You pause, kneeling by the door, holding a stack of papers. You peer through the sliver to see Hyunjin, sighing to himself as he ambles across the room and plops down on the couch. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, scrolling on his phone.

You find yourself once more arrested by the sight of him. He looks so beautiful but also starkly masculine, sophisticated but dangerous. A gentleman and a bad boy and every other dreamy amalgamation of boy crushes.

He tucks some hair behind his ear and you feel hot, remembering how you touched him just the same, remembering the reaction it garnered.

You fantasize about a braver version of yourself, someone brash and confident enough to approach him. He would look up at you with those smoky eyes, curious but wanting. You would touch him, that same simple touch, and he would rear up and kiss you with abandon once more. You would not even need a conversation because action would speak for itself.

Instead you are peering through cracks in doors, separated thanks to your own cowardice.

He touches his fingers to his chin. Whatever is on his phone is causing a great deal of deliberation. He turns off his screen and lays his phone facedown. His contemplation looks almost painful.

You want to comfort him because he is evidently perturbed by something. But the longer you wait, the more awkward it will be to reveal yourself.

He heaves a great sigh, doubling over, his face in his hands. He shakes his head. He looks truly forlorn, so you finally lay the papers down and try to think of something to say. You watch as he leans back, as he picks up his phone again. He stares down at the screen.

You are still psyching yourself up, preparing yet another useless script.

Then he turns up the volume.

You have rewatched the video you sent him more than once, assessing the details to torture yourself. Maybe, also, secretly, sometimes… imagining him watching it. Then shaking your head and turning it off, because he said himself it made him feel bad and nothing else. So that was impossible.

So why is he watching it now?

Because he is. Unmistakably. You know the sound of your own voice. You know the sounds in that video. You sit there, wide-eyed, staring at him as he stares at you – the you in the video, the you in white satin, the you moaning and touching yourself, fucking yourself while you thought of him.

He puts the phone on his knee, not moving his eyes from the screen as he peels off his jacket and chucks it aside. You can only blink, stupefied. This does not feel real, just like that kiss. Except that kiss was real, this is real, and you are watching Hyunjin as he slouches back and parts his knees and cups his hand between his legs. He touches himself with those long fingers, fingers you imagined while touching yourself in the very video that has him captivated.

He picks up the phone to rewind, all while undoing his pants then reaching inside.

You realize he is about to get his dick out, right here, right in front of you, completely unwittingly, and that snaps you back to reality. Far too quickly, because you make a surprised noise.

He freezes and looks up, first to the front door, then to your bedroom door. You make eye contact very briefly.

Then you slam the door shut.

You do the only logical thing.

You do not go to the library. Hyunjin leaves for his photography session and you pace your bedroom about a dozen times, then you sit down and write. You make a chronological notation of every emotional turning point in your friendship. You chart the data and sketch a few rough diagrams. You arrange all the appropriate paperwork and laminate a few important spreadsheets. Then you clip them all in a binder and pick up your phone and think of how to succinctly summarize three hours worth of deliberation.

The facts fall thusly:

You accidentally sent your best friend a sexually explicit video of yourself.

You granted him permission to watch it.

He watched it.

You caught him in a compromising position with it.

You made a spreadsheet.

Based on your calculations, the probability of Hyunjin returning your feelings seems fairly substantial. But you are not sure how to articulate any verdict based on the facts presented. Your spreadsheets contain data, not a resolution.

Hyunjin is a romantic and soulful creature. You wooed your last boyfriend with a portfolio but he was nothing like Hyunjin. That courtship was an amicable affair and little more. The break-up was cordial and tearless. You shook hands then walked in opposite directions.

A memory comes to mind.

You and Hyunjin. Starting university together. Back when the world first offered itself to your young adult selves.

One day he skipped class and you went to check on him, only to find him curled up in bed in his baggiest sweatshirt, sniffling away. He was blonde then, a burst of starlight in every room he occupied. It was so strange and so wrong seeing him so grey and dejected.

He laid his head in your lap and let you pet his hair. It took some cajoling to get the story out of him. His secondary major was dance studies and he spent months preparing a showcase. Apparently his instructor did not offer him the same thorough critiques he gave other students. You tried to say that was a good thing, but he insisted it was not.

“He doesn’t think I’m worth improving,” he said. “He told me I’ll get by because of my looks. That’s the only thing I have. No one really likes me or thinks I’m worth anything.”

“I know it’s hard because you are a natural drama queen, but don’t be dramatic, Hyunjin,” you said. “Plenty of people like you just fine. They adore you, in fact. And you are very talented. It is not your fault if this one person cannot see past appearances.”

“It’s not just one person,” he said. He sat up to wipe his tears.

You sat awkwardly beside him, hands twitching with the desire to do something helpful but at a complete loss. You never intentionally sought comfort, keeping your feelings to yourself, so you were bad at giving it.

You put a hand on his shaking shoulder. “Hyunjin,” you said, imploringly.

“No,” he said, miserable, his face all scrunched up. “Everyone leaves me when I’m not what they want, and I’m never what they want, because I’m just a worthless face and nothing else.”

It was very strange to hear him express such a sentiment. Hyunjin was always surrounded by doting crowds. But you supposed he had his share of heartbreak as a consequence of knowing so many people. He gave away his heart so easily and it was sometimes returned in pieces. It did not stop him from trying again, which you always commended. You wished you knew how to express that.

“We’re friends, are we not?” you finally asked. “I care for you very dearly.”

“You do?” he asked. Even his voice sounded wet. You grabbed a tissue and shoved it at him.

“Of course I do,” you said. “Though statistically no one can be truly unique in every capacity, and friendships and relationships are often founded by chance and choice, I nonetheless consider your amalgamation of parts to be quite magnificent, and I find your character irreplaceable. You are, indeed, very handsome, but also witty and playful, dramatic to your detriment but nonetheless entertaining, creative and soulful, and you have a defensive streak and natural bite, but a fragile heart beneath that, and I rather admire that. I am afraid I will like you forever, regardless of our proximity or friendship status. Such is the nature of affection. Why are you still crying?”

You were immensely confused when your consolation generated more tears, but you accepted your best friend was an emotional riddle.

Hyunjin has many layers. You have always known this. You told him as much. You have done him a terrible disservice by assuming the worst, that he would be shallow in regards to you. He has always exhibited a fondness for your own depths.

It is more difficult to accept him finding your surface just as attractive. It seems conclusive, though. There is no shortage of sexual content in the world. He could have watched anything. So it is safe to say, touching his dick while watching you fuck yourself might have been a demonstration of a certain level of attraction. Possibly.

You sit on your bed, staring at your phone. You jump when it buzzes with a text alert. You open it, your heart skipping beats when you see it is from Hyunjin.

I’m sorry for this morning, he writes.

I can stay at Felix’s place until you’re comfortable okay.. Please just tell me

i deleted the video now. and the message where you sent it. I should have done that right away

I know you said you didn’t mind but still. I should have just

just done it all differently

The messages come flying in one right after the other. You imagine him a mirror to you, sitting somewhere, slouched over his phone. Hair dishevelled from jamming his fingers through it. A shaky breath on his lips.

You look up, picturing him across from you. You want to reach across the space between you, stretch out every finger, and clasp his hand. You never want to let go.

Your phone buzzes again. You read his words and your heart floods with more than desire. Rich with sentiment, it leaves you more breathless than a kiss.

you mean everything to me.

He is still typing. The ellipses in the corner flashes. You suspect he will send you an endless stream of consciousness if you do not reply soon.

You look at your binder of data, then you look at your phone, then you look at your binder, then you look at your phone. You take a breath. The decent and logical approach would be patience. To study everything you have compiled. To see if he concurs. To communicate the best way to move forward, what that looks like, and how it should happen.

You are not someone who intentionally takes risks. You are not wild and spontaneous. You are not brash or confident. You are not sexy.

Verisimilitude, you remember. Act like it is true, maybe it will be.

You type.

Hello, Hyunjin.

His ellipses disappears.

It is true. I sent that video by accident. But I did grant you permission to watch it.

You open your photo album. There is the video, so inconspicuous, one of a dozen. It is not your most extravagant nor the longest. You were too eager in the moment to prolong anything. You could film it better if you did it again. But it is nonetheless the video that started this whole thing.

Even though you were not trying, the video turned him on. You are hot all over, remembering how he warred with himself before submitting. You remember the amorous look on his face, how desperately he watched you while touching himself. He could not rip his gaze away for even a moment.

You click on the video. You send it with your next message.

This is for you.

You can keep it.

Then you take a chance and write, I want you to keep it.

There is a long moment with no reply. Or maybe it feels longer because you are holding your breath. You exhale with a whoosh and a breathless laugh when he finally replies.

fuck.

are you trying to kill me

You smile, though even that gets you hot, remembering your portrait doodled in the margins of his art. A lightness fills your heart, recalling that, picturing him now. You can imagine his wide, startled eyes, expressive dark brows lifting as he stares at his phone.

No, you write. You are not sure how to respond to a flirtatious overture so you opt for simplicity. You are not one to colour your statements with unnecessary artifice so you state your intentions without colourful obfuscations. To clarify, you write, I fully consent to you masturbating to it. It is only fair. I was thinking of you while I made it.

You wonder if he is still at the photography studio. You can picture him sitting behind the camera, waiting for the next set, his make-up touched up, his black ensemble pristine, and his face humorously contorted.

so you are trying to kill me, he writes.

and i thought you weren’t the unprovoked licentious content type....

You are fairly certain he is playing with you, but texts are even harder to construe than verbal tones. You tilt your head, staring at the message, imagining his voice. The little ellipses flashes in the corner, then you smile when his next message comes through.

I’m just teasing you baby.

He knows you so well. Years of friendship have fortified the affection between you. You were so foolish to ever think otherwise. Of course he can picture you like you can picture him. You feel as if he is holding you in those steady hands, comforting you with that loving touch as the tension leaves your body. You feel safest curled against him and you always have. The only difference now is he calls you baby and your heart does a flip.

I see, you write. Well.

Technically that was not wholly unprovoked. It was very much within the context of our discussion.

This one, however, is entirely unprovoked.

You send another video. This one you filmed a while ago, back in your own bedroom at your townhouse. You are wearing a sweater he bought you. The gift was touching because there was no occasion. He saw it and thought of you so he got it. And he knows your tastes so well, your fit and size and style. He knows you prefer a more modest ensemble in the world.

This video is not modest. You filmed the sweater from every angle then laid down, wearing nothing else. You held a vibrator between your legs and arched your back and filmed yourself, every whimper and sigh and breath. You stopped just before coming, dropping your phone to focus on your orgasm.

You send the video and wait. His ellipses appears and disappears then he finally writes:

fuck.

You flop back on the bed, biting your lip as his rather frantic messages fly in one after the other.

god. pretty girl. you know i'm obsessed with you right?

jesus we did all this backwards. i wanted to be cool when i told you but I’m a stupid mess.

fuck I’m about to have my photo taken

hiding in the bathroom because christ

what are you doing to me

where are you right now??

After all that, you simply answer, In bed. You realize it sounds suggestive only after the fact, but you do not retract it. Nerves gather inside you, blending into adrenaline and anticipation. You know him well but you are not sure what he will say now. This is new territory. It is exhilarating. You do not remember feeling this way with your ex. He was too much like you, so there was nothing to discover between you.

Hyunjin is so different but he fits with you like a puzzle piece, complimentary rather than contradictory. You feel sweltering hot, thinking he must reciprocate those feelings. Maybe he likes your hidden depths. Maybe he likes knowing it is all for him. He is romantic that way. So maybe he likes to see your articulate and intelligent self let go of inhibitions. Maybe you like it too, becoming a body and sharing it with him.

Show me, he writes, echoing that very sentiment.

Be polite, you reply, mostly to buy time while you temper your racing heart. It melts at his next words.

Please.

Show me you want me. want this. want us.

Pretty girl.

My girl.

Please.

Okay, you type. You are quivering but the sensation is not unpleasant. Last night was overwhelming, so much at once, but this you can do. This you want to do. There is a breath of distance, so it is a step rather than a leap. You are no stranger to aiming a camera at yourself.

Before you prepare, you take a breath and write, You show me too.

You get an idea. While he formulates his reply, you jump out of bed and hurry to the front room. He has an array of leather jackets hanging by the door, because of course he does. You rifle through them, looking for the one he wears the most. It smells like him, that rich cologne, a hint of his hair product. If your knees were not already knocking, it would send you swooning. You clutch it to your chest as you make your way back to your room.

You close the door, as if it matters, but this is between you and Hyunjin, the rest of the world insignificant.

You strip down to your underwear then don the jacket. You keep your hair pinned so you do not look like a mess, then you arrange yourself on the bed as neatly as you can. You try not to overthink, even though overthinking is your speciality. You pretend this is a video like any other.

Except the scent of his masculine cologne surrounds you. He is inside your mind, completely and irrevocably.

You open your phone to a new message, a video from him. The lighting is dark in the small studio bathroom, backlit in red. It makes it all the more erotic.

You have never unwittingly clenched. You did not even know you could be so aroused that your body would form a mind of its own. But you are, and it does, pussy very literally throbbing as you watch the video. His artist hand, long fingers curling around the hard curve of his fly. He lowers the zipper and you clench again, making that meek little whimper.

Apparently you like watching videos just as much as making them. You are a mess by the time he gets his dick out.

You turn up the volume to hear his breathing. You know he has to keep his voice down, but it makes his breathy little fuck all the hotter.

Oh Hyunjin, you write. Your vocabulary otherwise fails. There is no other word.

Yes please, he writes.

My pretty girl.

Say my name.

Your next sound is embarrassing and guttural. You are a little glad you were not filming yet.

You clear your throat and position yourself, holding the camera above you. You start recording. With your free hand, you touch the collar of the jacket. You rake your teeth over your bottom lip then lower the camera. The jacket falls open just enough to hint at every curve in contains. You skim down your body. You touch yourself and you are so wet and so ready that you cannot help but make another noise. Unlike him, you are free to be noisy, so you do not restrain yourself.

It feels so different, knowing someone will watch this. You have never been so wet in your life. You cannot even tease yourself, so desperate that you quickly push two fingers inside you. Oh, dear, god, you really sound filthy, ridiculously wet as you fuck yourself with jerky little thrusts.

“Hyunjin,” you murmur, the name that has often perched on your tongue while you do this. It feels so good to say it out loud.

You send him that much, continuing to stroke and fuck yourself while the video sends. You close your eyes and stimulate your clit, rubbing and circling, finding a rhythm. You need it. You need him.

Your phone buzzes and you turn your head. You open the message. You clamp your thighs around your hand, your pussy clenching around your fingers as you read his words.

God I wanted to film it but I just came all over myself

baby you are everything

I wish I was beside you I need to say so many things

god..

pretty girl if I ask so politely will you come for me? will you let me see your pretty face when you come? Please.

You do not type a reply because it is too difficult with one hand, and you will not stop touching yourself, not when you are so close.

It is just a few flicks of your thumb to open the camera again. You frame your face and hit record. You come only seconds later, releasing such a desperate cry as you unravel. It is so much yet not enough. You thoughtlessly shove your own fingers in your mouth, closing your eyes, imaging it is his hand, his wet fingers dragging over your tongue. You want to taste him. You want to choke on him. You just want to feel him so much that the rest of the whole world will fall away. You don’t need to be anyone else. You don’t want anyone else.

You say his name again. Your pussy clenches as if already trained to react to it. You stop filming and send it, breathing hard in the aftermath.

As your adrenaline dwindles, you feel a modicum of embarrassment, but no regrets. Your logical brain does make a grudging return, however. As much as you want him, you know if you rush into things that you will end up balking again. You need a proper conversation. You need spreadsheets. You need to do it his way and your way too.

But for now, you smile, giggling to yourself as you read his replies. Half of his texts are unintelligible gibberish, the other half completely and utterly worshipful.

Nonsense, you finally write.

I’ll come home right now and prove it to you, he says without hesitation.

Except by right now I mean in two hours, because I caught the train out here and it doesn’t leave until then.

Then you’re all mine.

You laugh in spite of yourself, curling up in his jacket. You take in a breath, the scent of him. You type.

I’ve been yours for a long time. I can wait two more hours.

Then… can we talk?

Yes, he answers quickly. Absolutely. I have so much I want to say to you.

Me too, Hyunjin.

He caught the bus to the train station but you offer to pick him up. He enthusiastically agrees, evidently eager to see you again. You find yourself laughing, such a light in your chest that it cannot help but spill out. You are somehow both anxious and excited, but so happy that you do not mind.

When the details are settled, you lower your phone and look at your binder.

You have two hours. That is enough time to laminate a few more spreadsheets.

You tell yourself you will be resilient. You are notoriously stringent and a self-identified no-nonsense curmudgeon at the best of times. Given you have expelled the brunt of your sexual frustration, you figure there will be no problem. You will meet Hyunjin at the train station, you will come home, you will share a meal and have a conversation, and everything will go smoothly from there.

Except Hyunjin changed clothes. It is not anything extravagant by any means. He is in black jeans and a red shirt, his black dress shirt shrugged overtop. The wind tousles his hair just so, and his make-up has been redone, a little less severe but still so sharp. It is more casual than you expected, and somehow that undoes your perseverance.

You are gawking at him, staring through the car window as he strides over. He gets into the passenger seat like nothing is remiss, tossing his bag into the back. He is wearing heavy boots that thunk when he sits. He closes the door and looks over at you with a smile.

“Hi, pretty girl,” he says.

He is so atrocious at keeping to your script. Imaginary Hyunjin is much more accommodating.

“Hello, Hyunjin,” you say.

You sit there for a long time. It is getting dark outside, which makes it easy to forget you are in a parking lot outside a train station.

Then he has the audacity to be sweet, at such odds to his daring appearance. He looks so rebellious and you look so meek. He is all vibrant colours and dark slashes, while you are in a blazer and a long brown skirt. Your shirt is buttoned all the way up to your chin and, despite your best efforts, your hair has come unpinned. The wind has never been your friend.

You are certain you make a funny sight, but he is not laughing at all. His gaze is so affectionate but so warm, burning you up. You gaze back at him, your heart already skipping beats. Then he reaches out and tucks a loose curl behind your ear. You remember him doing that at the art gallery. He was looking at you then like he is looking at you now. You realize you have been such a fool.

You lean in at the same time. This kiss does not even pretend at patience. It is a hungry collision, his hand in your hair and yours on his chest. You make a wanting noise when his fingers hook through the curls at your nape and he tugs just a little, just enough to move your head where he wants it so he can deepen the kiss. He makes a noise too, something low and needy. He licks into your mouth, far too hot and far too dirty for a parking lot kiss.

You remember yourself, vaguely. You break the kiss with a gasp. Your fingers curl on his chest and his grip tightens in your hair. Your foreheads touch. The only sound in the car is your mutual rough breathing.

“Right,” you say, your voice raspier than you expected. “Um. We should. Go.”

He nods. But then he proves he is as evil as he looks, because he tilts your head and exposes your throat. He leans in, presses his full lips on that soft vulnerable skin and kisses it so delicately that your whole body is wracked with a shiver. He exhales, warm breath fluttering over your pulse. Then he finally lets go and leans back.

“Okay,” he says. “Let’s go home.”

Home. You have a discussion on that very subject upon arrival.

Prior to departure, you arranged your papers on the kitchen table. You deposit your take-out boxes alongside it, then sit down to eat and discuss.

He furrows his brow as he holds up a spreadsheet.

“Is this laminated?” he asks. “You brought a laminator with you?”

“Of course I brought a laminator with me,” you say unflinchingly. “What kind of question is that?”

He cracks a smile and nods, then waves you on. He listens diligently to your proposed contingency. You prepared index cards so you would not be distracted and led astray. You are glad you did, because when he finishes eating he just stares at you, and he still looks hungry, but not for sustenance.

You clear your throat and try to disregard this, but it is difficult. You unbutton the top button of your shirt to breathe a little easier and he looks at you with more voracious intensity than a single button warrants. You might as well have stripped down naked.

You suppose you already have, halfway. You swallow hard.

“Look,” you say, lowering your index cards to speak frankly. “The bottom line is this. I desire you greatly. I believe there is some reciprocation in this regard. But we are living under a shared roof temporarily and I fear this may cause us to progress faster than I am ultimately comfortable. I would like some longevity in our blossoming dynamic. You are very important to me, Hyunjin. I want us to succeed. I would feel more comfortable if we waited to sleep together, at least until I am back in my townhouse. That means no sharing a bed too. When I am back home, we can properly date, and see how this grows between us. What are your thoughts?”

“When will your place be ready again?” he asks. He is sitting back in his seat, arms crossed, looking thoughtful. You appreciate he is not grabbing at you or immediately trying to convince you otherwise.

You knew he would not pressure you. Regardless, you cannot help the skip in your bloodstream, the natural nerves that surface when he looks at you. You have known him for years. You wonder if these sensations will ever diminish. Present research dictates no.

“The last estimation was six more weeks,” you say.

He smiles. It soothes your heart. You stare at his hand as it crosses the table, as he gently laces your fingers together and squeezes. You blink up at him.

“If you asked me to wait a year, I would,” he says. “If you told me there were things you never wanted, we would make it work. I’ve waited years for you, baby. Six weeks is nothing.”

Goodness gracious. Exactly how is a person meant to be strict and curmudgeonly with this man? He really is the universal exception to every rule. You have just outlined your rubric and you are already considering breaking it.

“Kisses are okay,” you say, hot under your skin. Writing your flirtations was easier than speaking them. Your tone is brusque because you are bad at this, but it just makes him smile. “Maybe other things when the circumstances arise. But we will wait for the rest.”

He lifts your hand to his mouth and places a soft kiss on your palm, holding your gaze all the while. You are quite certain your insides turn to complete mush.

It occurs to you in bed.

You have long since said good night and retired for the evening. You pick up your phone and sigh. You are already skirting the edge of your rules, fully aware you are about to poke a sleeping beast but unable to resist. The realization plagues you, the subsequent questions burning in your chest.

And you are wet. So, so wet, and so, so needy. Because Hyunjin walked you to your bedroom door like a gentleman. Then he kissed you like a scoundrel. He leaned you against the door, his hand planted beside your head and the other holding your face. He kissed you long and slow, like he wanted to draw it out, like he did not want to say good night. Your hands were clasped together because you did not trust yourself to touch him. If you did, you would have dragged him into the bedroom and regretted it later.

But in the moment, it felt so right. You are certain that no kiss, ever, since the dawn of time, had ever felt as good as that one. He took his time with each gentle press, each touch of his tongue, each shared breath. Your chests rose and fell in tandem, your legs turning to jelly where you stood. He fiddled with that one undone top button. You would not have resisted him tearing them all open.

He did not. He kissed you slowly. He kissed you sweetly. With one last peck, he whispered, “Good night, pretty girl. Sleep well.”

You could not find your voice. You made a weak gurgling noise and nodded frantically. He smiled. You rather suspect he knew his effect on you, the rapscallion.

Now you are in bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about something he said at dinner. You debate texting him. It will open a floodgate. You lower your phone a few times, but ultimately determine you will not sleep until you have settled your mind.

Hyunjin, you write, if you liked me for years, that means you were already inclined towards affection when I accidentally sent that video. Correct?

Correct, he answers with a little emoji face, one with a quirked eyebrow. Why do you ask…?

I was just wondering…

If when I saw you was your first time watching it.

The ellipses is there for a while. Your heart is pounding in your chest. You are certain this man is going to send you into cardiac arrest one of these days. Then you will finally explode at the most inopportune moment.

You sink into the bedsheets, pressing your legs together when his reply comes through.

Honestly… I watched it more than once. I did stop when you first sent it. even though it got me hard in seconds. then you said i could watch it.. and i honestly thought i was still dreaming.

You cannot help but laugh a little. You turn on your side, smiling as he types some more. Then his message comes through and you swallow, flush with heat.

I tried to answer. I tried to flirt with you. I tried to be funny. It all sounded stupid. Then I got back in bed and tried to think of something to say… but god.

god..

Baby what was I supposed to do? if I resisted that they would have made me a saint.

You laugh again. You marvel at his ability to make you smile and get you hot at the same time.

Did you masturbate to it? you ask. It sounds too frank to be seductive but you are not sure how else to pose the query.

You really don’t pull your punches, he says. You think you can somehow hear a smile in his words.

yeah baby, he writes. I did. More than once.

I see, you reply. Okay, thank you, I was just wondering. Good night.

The ellipses flickers again. You release a torrent of giggles into the blankets when he sends you a very tortured looking emoji.

This is going to be a long six weeks.

He is not wrong. It is simultaneously the longest, most arduous six weeks of your life, but also the fastest, the most lively, and the most fulfilling.

You spend the first week stealing kisses. He is good to you, respecting your boundaries. He never asks to share a bed and he does not initiate anything beyond your established desires. He leaves space for you, his arms always open, but he does not force you.

This is sufficiently more seductive than if he started yanking on your clothes in the corridor.

You are watching a movie one night. He puts an arm across the back of the couch but makes no further demand. You settle under that arm, nestling closer at your own pace. You are not watching the film, all your focus on him. He has a foot propped on the coffee table, his arms spread across the couch, and he bops his head along to the music. Of course, he does that even when the music stops, so you think he not paying attention either.

Eventually, you succumb to the butterflies in your belly. They flutter free with an exhale. You touch his cheek and turn his face. He requires little convincing, kissing you without a word.

His foot thumps onto the ground. You find yourself in his lap. You do not know how you lose your head around him. One second, you swear you are on solid ground, the next you are floating. Someone should study this phenomenon. You, yourself, have no idea how to parse its logic.

You straddle his lap, your arms wrapped around his neck. He is dressed in all black again, black jeans and a black t-shirt, his eyes still smudged with black eyeshadow. It makes him look so utterly devastating, his eyes so dark and searching.

It makes you bold, coming to life under the intensity of that gaze. It is like some subliminal message passes to something rooted deep inside you, something primal and animal that he plucks with ease.

You dive in for another kiss, burning too hotly under his gaze. He cups your head with both hands. He tosses little hairpins everywhere, grunting with displeasure when he finds them. When you are completely free, he groans, a deep and ravaging moan as he buries his fingers in your hair and pulls you close.

“Hyunjin,” you say, once more at a loss for any other word.

He cannot even manage that much, nothing but a guttural sound leaving his throat. It makes you melt against him. Your body really has a mind of its own these days. You find yourself rocking against him, making his breath catch.

He tugs your hair a little more viciously, thoughtlessly, so entangled that it cannot be helped. You make another ridiculous mewling sound that will embarrass you later, but in the moment it slips free.

He holds you in place, palm cupping your head, keeping you steady while he rolls his hips under you.

It makes you dizzy. Your mouth opens and your eyes close. You slowly rock back. You dig your nails into his shoulders and you are amazed it does not hurt him. But, then again, he is tugging your hair inadvertently and if that hurts you do not notice. The seam of your own pants presses deliciously against you, the hard line in his jeans grinding against the softest part of you, again and again and again.

“Oh,” you say, or rather sigh. Your shoulders shake and surprise thunders into your racing heart. You realize are going to come like this. “Oh. Ohh.”

“Yes,” he says, and holds you steady, and keeps rolling his hips until you come apart in his arms.

You slump against his chest after, resting your head on his shoulder. You can feel him flicking your hair out of his mouth, but he doesn’t complain. You are breathing hard, clinging to him, still surprised you did what you did.

Eventually you find a modicum of strength in your arms. You somehow push yourself upright. You deposit a single apologetic kiss to his shoulder, which is doubtlessly riddled with crescents from nail bites.

He looks at you with a smile, a little breathless himself but evidently pleased.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, so reverently you actually believe it. Instinct still compels you to argue, but you cannot find your voice to do so. You just make a little noise and look down at your hand on his chest.

His heart races under your palm.

You think you need to see him come too.

You were previously too nervous to strike the endeavour. You sexted again in bed the night before, but leaving him to his devices is different than taking matters into your own hands. Literally. You are not inexperienced, but he is certainly more experienced. It is another reason you cannot rush into things.

He does not rush you. You arrive at the moment in your own time. And in this moment, it stops mattering. His heart beats under your palm and he looks at you with such an outpouring of affection, it makes your own heart stutter. You are tingling with aftershocks, feeling so alive and vibrant with his eyes on you.

You trail your hand down his chest to his belt. His eyelashes flutter, surprise crossing his own face. His hand covers yours and he lifts a questioning brow. You nod and he lets you go.

You get his belt open with a little struggle. You are a prestigious academic decorated with multiple literary awards, but a belt stupefies you.

He lets you work, twisting a curl around his finger, smiling a lazy smile. You pry the belt open and get his fly down, satisfied when some of his cockiness dissipates as your touch overwhelms him. It is a good overwhelming, given the noise he makes as he rests his face on yours. He murmurs your name and presses kisses all over your face as you work him in your hand.

The jeans are thrown into the laundry hamper immediately after.

The second week is mostly comprised of your usual routines. You have both shirked some responsibilities, too busy flirting like horny prepubescents to get any work done. You eventually return to your books and make remarkable progress on your research project. Hyunjin edits the photos from his latest shoot, uploading them to his profiles and collecting his sponsorships.

You go to your favourite café. You accompany him to his favourite bar because it’s a trivia night and you enjoy it more than you anticipated. You return to the art exhibition then rehash your previous opinions over dinner.

Some moments feel like dates, like when he holds you hand or gets the door or you dare to kiss his cheek in public. Some moments feel like the comfortable friendship you have long enjoyed, and for that you are glad. Gaining Hyunjin as a boyfriend would mean little if you lost him as a friend.

But he is still your Hyunjin.

He just puts his tongue in your mouth now.

The couch becomes a site of utter debauchery. It is the apartment’s no man’s land, given the beds have been relegated to solitary confinement. It really is for the best. For now. You will enjoy yourself more when you are truly ready.

Until then, the couch is subject to repeated episodes of defiling.

You and Hyunjin sit down with the intention of reading your own books, but they are both on the floor and you are on your back and Hyunjin is on top of you. It is not unlike a few weeks ago, when he stole your book and pinned you down. It feels like a lifetime since then. You never would have imagined yourself in this situation for real.

But it is real. You know that, because every nerve in your body is alive and shooting sparks. You make little moans, weaving your fingers in his bright red hair as he kisses you deeply. His jeans are blue today. You are in a long skirt. It makes it a little easier for the material to fall on its own, gathering around your thighs as he presses against you.

You take his hand and guide it up your skirt, resting it on your inner thigh. When he squeezes the soft flesh, you arch your back. A shaky please leaves your lips, breathing the word against his own.

He nods quickly, thumb stroking a circle high on your inner thigh. “What do you want, baby?” he asks.

“Hand,” you say, thinking about that video of him unzipping his fly, how many times you have gotten yourself off to his perfect hand sliding into the frame. His deft and nimble fingers, so precise for his artistic crafts. You blink up at him, hoping you do not look so dishevelled that it is ridiculous.

He clearly likes what he sees. He reaches under your skirt to slip your panties down and off, shoving them in his back pocket so they are not lost. His jeans have a long chain on the hip that he pushes out of his way when he kneels upright on the couch. He guides your thighs apart and angles your hips up, your thighs resting on his.

“Sorry,” you say when he touches you, because you are already so wet from just kissing.

“Sorry?” he asks in a rough voice, very lightly touching you, gathering all that desire on his fingertips and making you shudder. “For what?”

“Just… so… ready…”

It sounds ridiculous to say out loud. He must agree because he laughs incredulously. But you do not have time to feel ashamed because he slides two fingers inside you, your body offering no resistance to him. Then he starts curling up and putting pressure on your inner walls in a way that makes your head spin.

“Poor baby,” he says, his other hand sliding up your waist, holding you steady. “What should we do about that?”

You are coming minutes later, your shirt half-off, your breasts mauled with hickeys and your pussy spasming around his fingers. It feels so good, you do it again, and he ends up coming before you even touch him once.

Next time, you are not on the couch, but standing by the front door, preparing to go out. He is fully dressed with his leather jacket and boots, but you are missing a sweater and one shoe. He is standing behind you, your cheek pressed to the door as he works his hand under your skirt. You cant your hips up and back, grinding against him while he finger-fucks you.

You come so hard your knees buckle. Fortunately, he realizes what it is about to happen and catches you. He does not slow down, though, the bastard, and you keep coming, balanced in his arms.

You are halfway to the ground when you are satisfied. He puts you down gently. And maybe it is being half-dressed at his feet, maybe it his boots or his belt or that leather jacket, or maybe it is the way he looks down at you, but your mouth waters and you swallow hard.

“We don’t need to—” he starts, but you interrupt by opening his belt. You are much better at unbuckling it now, hardly wrestling with the leather at all.

You are acutely aware that you are not very good at giving oral. You are sensitive to sensation and it can be a bit much, but you like the noises he makes and the way he grabs your hair. You are certain he has had better, but you would not know from his reactions. He curses and sighs and groans, alternating between looking at you lovingly and ravenously.

He gets down on one knee after and cups your face and kisses you.

And that is just week two.

By week six, an amendment has been made to the bedroom rule. You will not share a bed overnight, but the morning is a different matter entirely. When the sun is up, the day is starting, so there is nothing wrong with climbing into bed together to talk about the day.

To be fair, sometimes you do just talk.

Other times, like now, your shirt is pushed up to your breasts and his face is buried in your pussy. He is wearing boxers and nothing else, his face bare. You like to look at it, his soft eyes glancing up at you as you push his hair back.

Unlike you who still administers oral with something of a polite and fastidious air, he gets messy with it. You are both drenched when you come, your pussy and thighs a mess while he wipes his face on a discarded shirt.

“So,” he says. “About the townhouse?”

When you finally step foot in your townhouse again, it is an abominable mess. You stand in the foyer with your luggage, slack-jawed and already so overstimulated that you nearly start vibrating.

Hyunjin joins you a second later, carrying the rest of your bags. He knows better than to yank you around when you get like this, but he does guide you to the couch to sit you on a clean cushion. He gets you some water and makes you drink. It helps, marginally.

“Oh dear,” you finally say, an understatement.

You made dinner plans, mostly to dissuade you from desecrating the foyer before you had an opportunity to unpack your bags, but those plans are cancelled in light of all the work that needs doing to make the place habitable again. You are immensely glad there is no longer a river of water leaking out of your shower and into the living room, but the contractors were not overly kind regarding dust and debris, to say nothing of plain dust and dirt.

Your poor bookshelves have been so neglected. They are the first thing to get a good dusting.

It is not an impossible task, when all is said and done, but pizza delivery replaces a dinner out. Whatever plans for seduction you might or might not have had, all evaporate, because you are so exhausted from cleaning that you fall asleep on the couch before it even gets dark outside.

You wake with a start in the middle of the night. You dreamed about giant dust bunnies devouring your poor innocent bookshelves. It takes a minute to ground yourself in reality, your surroundings unfamiliar. You have grown so used to the spare bedroom at Hyunjin’s apartment that you forget your own bedroom for a sleepy moment. When you fully come to consciousness, you remember where you are.

Then you remember you fell asleep the couch, a half-finished plate of pizza in your lap. Hyunjin must have gathered you in his arms and put you to bed. The thought is a little touching but also embarrassing, because that was not the plan for tonight. You suppose your provisos merely outlined not sleeping together until you were in your townhouse, not that it was a requisite for moving back in, but you still miss his company.

You search around for your phone. He left it on your bedside table for you. It is not as late as you thought it was, probably because you fell asleep so early. You text him an apology. You assume he went back to his apartment but you are not sure if he is awake or asleep.

You always liked living alone, but you suddenly lament the empty space. You miss the comfort of another person just one room over. No, not just another person, but Hyunjin.

hey it’s okay, he texts back. you were tired. you should go back to sleep it’s late

I am unfortunately wide awake now.

Yeah me too.

Why are you so awake?

Thinking about you.

If you were not already wide awake, that would have done the job of waking you all the way. You sit up in bed, all your attention on your phone now. You type a reply.

Oh? What about me?

You are not sure if his tone is flirtatious or not. You are getting better at verbal cues but it is still impossible to read someone, even Hyunjin, over text. You cannot even read your own tone, uncertain if it comes across as flirtatious or just curious.

That I’m kinda glad you fell asleep.

Don't laugh at me.. but I think I am nervous

About sleeping with you

You expect any number of answers, but not that one. You struggle with a reply for a moment, not sure if he is seeking reassurance or he just wants to speak his mind. When he starts typing again, you decide to wait.

I know it sounds stupid.

We spent all this time waiting

And god I want to. my girl

I’m so scared of messing this up and letting you down.

Hyunjin, you finally type, before he can descend in a spiral. You told me you would wait a year, or that we would work something out for ourselves if it was necessary. Do you not think I would do the same for you?

The ellipses appears and disappears as he contemplates this. His answer comes a moment later, You’re right.

Of course I am, you reply. I always am.

You hear a laugh. It startles you so bad, you drop your phone on the floor. You snatch it up quickly as possibly and frantically type, Please tell me that is you laughing in my living room.

Oh yeah sorry I just slept on your couch.

This man will be the death of you one way or another, that much is for certain.

You frightened me half to death. I thought you left.

Ah sorry baby..

Do you… want me to come upstairs?

That restless heart of yours skips beats for another reason, a different type of fear, one not unlike his own. You are not sure how the night will progress, but you know one thing for certain, one thing that is true and will always be true: you want Hyunjin. You want him with you, and beside you, now and always.

Yes please, you write, then wait.

His footsteps creak on the stairs. The human body really is a peculiar creation, because your fear seems to bleed right into newfound arousal.

You look up as he opens the door, using his phone flashlight as a guiding light. It is facing upward, illuminating him. Your phone screen is on, offering some light over your own features.

You are still wearing the sweater and sweatpants you cleaned in, absolutely not a sexy outfit for a first time sleeping together. You considered ordering special lingerie for the occasion but you are still quite bad about feeling embarrassed about those things. You made yourself nervous and balked every time you pictured walking in the room with them on. You think you will do that one day. You will probably have to make yourself comfortable with it first. Maybe you will send him a video.

You look up at him, your heart pounding just thinking about it. He gazes back at you. He is wearing jeans and a t-shirt, also not an especially fancy outfit to celebrate any firsts.

His face is bare. Your hair is loose. There is something about the shadows and a new room that makes you feel like strangers for a moment. You tell him as much, mostly to fill the silence, because he is staring at you and his gaze is far too amorous to be directed at a silly woman who fell asleep in her cleaning clothes at suppertime.

He tips his head as he looks you. You shiver, as if it is the first time he has ever looked at you, as if he has not made you come a dozen times on his face and hands, as if he has not known you for most of your life.

He turns off his light. The room is plunged into darkness. That ridiculous heart of yours starts leaping around like it has an electric current.

“Hyunjin,” you say, reaching blindly. You gasp when he captures your hand, leading it onto his shoulder. Then you feel his whole body, his hair brushing your face, his hands on you. Your eyes begin to adjust to the darkness and see you him a little better, the muscle definition in his arms, the necklace dangling when he leans down towards you.

“I’d fall in love with you again,” he says. “If we were. Strangers. If I was seeing you now for the first time.” He touches your cheek, brushes his knuckles up your temple then slips his fingers into your unruly hair. “I think I’ve fallen in love with you a hundred different ways. I think I will again.”

“You know I am not good at speaking with poetic embellishment,” you say, swallowing around the lump in your throat, one caused by both sentiment and nerves. “So I will have to speak plainly with you. I love you too, Hyunjin. I always have. If we were meeting for the first time right now, though, I would probably be screaming and throwing things at you.”

He laughs and the sound make you feel like you are glowing. You need no other light. You reach up and touch his face and you see him perfectly, can picture his smile even before you trace your thumb across his bottom lip. You cannot draw like him, but if you could, you would scribble his likeness in the margin of your work as well.

“Good thing we’re not strangers, then,” he says. “Because I’d really rather make love to you.” He swoops down and kisses your forehead. “My friend.” He kisses a sensitive spot below your ear, the place he teases when he wants to rile you up quickly. “Baby.” Then he is tipping your head at the perfect angle to lean down, his lips brushing yours when he says, “My pretty girl.”

“Nonsense,” you say breathlessly, because of course you do.

And of course he kisses you.

He kisses you deeply, holding the back of your head as he gently lays you down. You push the covers away, opening yourself to him completely. You wrap around each other, sinking into the sheets, arching your back to feel more of him.

You gasp when he tugs your hair. He has already found so many ways to make you plaint and needy, to forget your skills of articulation and lose every word but his name.

“That’s it,” he says, hooking your legs around his waist. “Show me what you want, baby.”

You reach between your bodies, cupping where he is already hard in his jeans. Everything about him is so hard against you, you in your soft sweats with your pool of curly hair, losing yourself as his strong hands work their way down your body. He lifts your shirt off and tosses it to the side, then gathers your hands because you always have an instinctive moment of covering yourself. You are modest by nature, but you trust him with everything. It is exhilarating, when he takes your wrists and pins them by your head.

For a moment, you do imagine every version of yourselves. You and him, old friends turning into lovers. You and him, established lovers, finally coming together. Two strangers, finding each other for the first time. There is always something new to discover. You love him again and again.

“Say my name,” he says, working his way down your body. He is still fully clothed when he has you fully naked, writhing under him as he pushes his tongue in you. It is a slow seduction with his mouth on your pussy as he kisses you there as thoroughly as he kissed your mouth. “Say it.”

“Hyunjin,” you say, repeating it as you come, your legs wrapped around his head.

He spares you only seconds before his fingers are inside you. You cling to his arm, making noises that still surprise you, begging him with your eyes and hands and little cries. When he cups your face after, you open your mouth wide, wanting. He fucks your mouth like he fucked your pussy, two fingers gliding across your tongue until you are bucking and pleading, sucking on his fingers and staring at him with wide eyes.

“Fuck,” he says, then whips off his shirt.

He kneels and you help tug his jeans and boxers down to his knees. You curl towards him, situated so he can finger you while you wrap your lips around his cock. You are usually very neat about it, but you cannot think clearly with his fingers inside you. You mostly wet him, barely blowing him, but he still kisses you when you pull back.

When he gets the last of his clothes off, he surprises you by sitting back against the headboard and pulling you into his lap. He surprises you even more by folding your arms behind your back and pinning your wrists at the base of your spine. He holds them there in one hand, the other between you as he helps you settle on top of him.

He does know you well. The second his cock so much as brushes you, there is an instinct to cover up. You hands twitch but he holds you, speaking to you gently, soothingly. He eases you through it, breathing just as hard as you sink down until he is fully inside you. Then you are clenching sporadically around him, almost a mini-orgasm just from the initial thrust. He is still holding your arms behind you, guiding you through it with him completely in control. It seems to be the way he likes it, but you don’t mind at all. You can be a stern stickler everywhere else; here you can be his.

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” he says, free hand on your hip, holding you as he rolls his hips under you. “That good, baby?”

You answer with a mewl, dropping your face to his shoulder and staying there. He laughs, eventually lifting your head. Then he puts you on your back and lifts your leg onto his shoulder, and he fucks you in a way you once could only imagine.

He pushes your knees back, presses his body so close to yours. A sheen of perspiration covers his skin and you are certain you are not faring better. It feels good, it feels free. You wrap your arms around him and hold tight.

“My girl,” he says, with a strong thrust, then another. Sounding as deliriously inarticulate as you when he says, “Mine.” And thrusts again. “Mine.” And again. “Always.” Again.

You seek his hand blindly. He offers it, lacing your fingers like the romantic he instinctively is, but you lead it right to your throat where you want him to hold you. When he does, your body goes completely soft for him, like every worry flees at once. You are always so in your head, to be a body feels good, to share it with him even better. You hum with pleasure, mouth open like a good girl for your dreamy bad boy as he leans down and kisses you, his tongue fucking into your mouth with the same vigour he takes your pussy.

When he rubs his thumb over your clit, you last only seconds, your whole body shaking as you lose complete control. He holds you through it, rocking into you, kissing your face and neck. He pulls out and strokes himself to completion, coming on your thighs and pussy.

You wrap around each other after, rolling into the middle of the bed. You somehow migrated horizontally during your lovemaking. You will need to move eventually, but sleep is finally hitting you. You feel Hyunjin clean you up with his t-shirt, but you only stir when he kisses you. You wrap around him and return a few sleepy kisses down his neck. He slides a hand in your hair, cups the back of your neck, and stays like that.

“What next,” you ask sleepily, not fully conscious of your words.

“Mmm.” He sounds just as sleepy. “Still need our dinner date,” he murmurs. “Can decide in the morning.”

“Okay,” you say. And even though you are half asleep and barely conscious, you add, “I can make a spreadsheet.”

He smiles. You think maybe you should learn to draw just so you can draw that smile after all. Maybe there is an artist and a romantic inside you, or maybe it is just the parts of him so entwined with you, forever embedded in your heart. You are actually excited to learn.

You give him one more sleepy kiss. It is early morning now.

You fall asleep together at the start of a new day.

#hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x reader #skz x reader #hyunjin smut #skz smut

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