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theoldsports · 1 month

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SPONTANEOUS.

Art Donaldson x Reader

oops. it’s gonna be a series. i’m developing Lore. let me know what you think and where to go next.

warnings: 18+ please, drug use mention, drinking (underage), kinda sexual content.

LINK TO SORRY SERIES

Fancy parties were loathsome. [Y/N] thought so, at least. She hated being told to stop calling them fancy parties and shindigs and to call them by their proper names: galas, benefits, balls, whatever. It was exhausting. Her feet weren’t meant to be elegantly jammed into spike heels. [Y/N] liked the height she was, thank you very much.

Did supporting charitable causes have to feel so degrading?

Capitalism at its finest.

[Y/N] had been attending these things since she was a little girl. Seven or eight years old. So young, in fact, that she now can’t remember what demographic or ailment-research, or political party this goddamn yearly spring shindig was for. Mr. and Mrs. Zweig were always nice to her when she was a child. She wasn’t just a family-friend, she (and her parents) felt like friends that were family.

What made the lavish Zweig parties tolerable was Patrick Zweig. She had known Patrick as long as there had been parties to get dressed up for. He had scraped her off a marbled staircase step as a little girl when her polished pleather mary janes didn’t have the traction to keep her upright. She had cried when she fell. He had said: “you’re really loud, you know that?” And she had laughed. So they were doomed to spend eternity hiding in coat rooms and getting tipsy together at these things.

Patrick was never one of those boys that felt the need to turn his back on [Y/N] during the cooties years, or the so-she’s-your-girlfriend? years. The pair of them always managed to be simply themselves and that was enough. He was merciless and unapologetic, but he made a hell of a best friend.

[Y/N] was two months older than Patrick, and had been taller for their first two years of friendship. When his shift in stature occurred, it happened fast.

Patrick went away to boarding school and came back a gangly beast. [Y/N], though they hadn’t spent every waking moment (weekends and school days) together since he had left her for a racket and a tennis ball, was always pleased to see Patrick was still himself every time he came home. Louder and stupider each time, but still Patrick.

Though, one spring break was different. Eleventh grade, if [Y/N] recalled correctly. Patrick came home, tall and stupid as ever, toting a boy named Art Donaldson.

Art Donaldson was considerably smaller, and debatably less stupid than Patrick Zweig. [Y/N] understood that day why all the girls in her grade giggled about boys. [Y/N] could never tell Patrick that. He would have been insufferable about it.

Actually, [Y/N] felt jealous. That was also a secret. Because Art, unlike she and Patrick, was nice. Everybody liked him. Nobody ever talked shit about him. Adults loved him and his small-town boy manners. He actually was a rambunctious little jerk, but nobody else saw that. Everyone else got yes sir, yes ma’am, I’m well, how are you? He could turn that charm on and off like a faucet. Infuriating, right?

[Y/N] was also jealous because it was clear she had been replaced.

Patrick lit up like a Christmas tree when he was with Art. He never looked at her like that. Art must have been a better friend to him then she was. Patrick called her once a week to talk for years, but Art slept, like, six feet away from him. It simply wasn’t fair.

Because of that, [Y/N] remembers spring break was really hard. [Y/N] was acutely aware she had lost something she didn’t know she could lose to the human version of a fucking beagle.

[Y/N] couldn’t remember the grade they were in exactly, but she did remember the dress she wore to the Zweigs’ party that year. It was light green and had spaghetti straps. It was longer and more form-fitting than what she was used. Most of the girls her age had settled for lots of tulle and cheetah-print so [Y/N] looked more mature by comparison. It was the first time [Y/N] remembered feeling grown up at all.

To think she thought that all her excitement and contentment was wasted. [Y/N] sat in a plastic pool chair in the backyard curled up with her cork wedge platforms resting dangerously close to the water. She nursed a bottle of vodka she had swiped two months ago from her parents liquor cabinet to surprise Patrick. Meticulously, she had waited for them to be out of town and found the key to the liquor cabinet. A whole bottle just for [Y/N] and her best friend. [Y/N] had barely managed to keep it a secret that she had taken it. She had been so proud of herself and thought Patrick would be too.

Now, she was the only one around to drink it.

Patrick had put his warm, familiar hands on her shoulders and told [Y/N] to wait right there and that he and Art would be back in a sec. The two boys had vanished upstairs presumably to Patrick’s room with laughter spilling from their mouths. [Y/N] sat at the base of the stairs alone for twenty minutes.

According to the garish clock on the wall, at twenty-one minutes, [Y/N] disappeared to the pool. She officially hated Patrick too. He had left her alone at parties plenty of times, and she him. They’d dance with others, or sneak off for a makeout session with a pretty stranger. It had never been a big deal either way. This felt like deliberate abandonment for no good reason. That was a first.

“Whoa, save some for the rest of us.” A reedy voice called out. Art Donaldson. [Y/N]’s head glanced over her shoulder so fast at the sound that she almost made herself dizzy. It took little time to realize there was no Patrick with him.

[Y/N] pulled the bottle closer. “That was a really long one sec,” She replied. She planned to say that eventually in the wasted minutes she waited, but it sounded less cool now than it did in her head. [Y/N] sounded plain mopey and that was a shame. “What’d you guys do anyway? Where’s Patrick?”

Art shrugged and walked further into view. He looked a bit sheepish. “Being Patrick,” He didn’t answer the first question she asked. There was a half-smile tugging at his lips. Art looked nice. Brown dress shoes, navy jacket, white shirt. No tie. She could have sworn that had been a tie at some point earlier. His shaggy blonde hair was mussed, but she had yet to observe it being neat. It was fustrating how effortlessly nice he looked. [Y/N] thought that everyday from day one. “It’s getting kinda cold. You wanna head back inside? I was looking for you—“

“I’m alright here, but thanks,” she slurred slightly. “You head in. I’m not here to ruin your fun.” It had sounded bitter. She hadn’t meant for it to.

Art sighed and glanced away from her. He paused a moment and sighed. “I’m not here to ruin yours either, y’know.”

“You don’t have to make this into a thing. It’s fine.”

“Well, too late. Patrick’s being an ass. I don’t want you out here feeling like I’m some homewrecker. I’ve been on the receiving end of shit like this from him, too. He’s not trying to be nasty to you, ‘promise. Come on, I’m not gonna let you freeze out here.” Art said, stepping in a bit. The glow from the pool left green and white wiggly lines across his cheeks.

“It’s spring, It’ll warm up. Get back up to that party, man. Patrick’s waiting for you.”

“You’re being impossible.”

[Y/N] set the half-empty bottle down beneath her chair. “Nuh-uh.”

“Jesus… if you’re gonna be a jerk about it, at least take this.” Art frowned, shrugging out of his suit jacket. He seemed disappointed.

“Oh, Art, please—“

“No, no! You made your choice. Don’t let me spoil your fun with you and the… the vodka,” Art said, making a show of taking the jacket off and throwing it over to [Y/N]. The balled up lump of fabric landed in her lap with a soft thud. Her stomach churned. “All hunky dory now,” He said, holding his hands out to show he was no threat. Art’s brows were lowered protectively close to his eyes in what [Y/N] thought was an effort to mask slight hurt or rejection. He turned to walk away as [Y/N] clutched the fabric of his jacket between her fingers. Art turned back to to look at her for a moment. [Y/N] didn’t know what that expression was meant to mean. “Be careful, okay? For what it’s worth, you—you look lovely tonight. It would be a shame for such a, uh, such a pretty girl in a pretty dress to end up face down, stuck in the pool drain. ‘Night [Y/N].”

[Y/N] was glad for the dark because she felt her face heat up and dopey smile start to form at the compliment. Maybe she was drunk, but that had to be flirting. In the most fucked up way possible, but still. Why? Art Donaldson didn’t even like her.

Art had only managed to take a few steps into the dewy grass when [Y/N] begrudgingly called out: “Art, wait!”

She hated that she liked the smirk on his face when he turned around. He could tell what she wanted by her tone. What kind of fucker takes no for answer happily and still sets himself up for a yes in the end. “Yes?” He asked, trying not to smile.

“Listen, you’re right—“ [Y/N] stood up confidently, sliding Art’s jacket around her shoulders. And she stood up too fast and knocked her sandals into the pool. “Shit!” She cursed. She was still an age where cursing felt cool and unfamiliar. [Y/N] stood on her unsteady feet and watched her sandals bob out to the middle of the pool, propelled by her kick. She was embarrassed now as well. The stakes of everything felt so much higher than sandals in the pool of her best friend’s backyard. Booze will do that to the sanest of folks. [Y/N] dropped her face heavily into her hands. Great.

Quickly, Art cut his eyes between her and the shoes and back again. “Where do they keep the pool net?” Art asked calmly, without missing a beat.

“The shed.” [Y/N] said miserably and pointed a few feet away. Art bounded across the pavement around the pool to the shed. He tugged once, then twice.

“Fuck,” he said under his breath. “It’s locked,” He reported to [Y/N] from practically halfway in the pruned hedges. Art started the walk back to her. Once he was beside her, Art placed a hand gently at her elbow. “Come back inside with me. Please. Patrick may be able to get us a key and we can…”

But [Y/N] looked so sad from behind her hands. Even though all of this was so childish. She was also wearing Art’s jacket now and that did things to his brain. Her dress wasn’t not low cut and he froze for a second. All he could do was stare.

“Just do what I would do,” Patrick said. “It’ll be fine, man. She’s already into you, I can tell.”

“Well, if she’s into me, why would I do what you would do? That’s an awful suggestion, Patrick.” Art protested.

Patrick spun around in his desk chair to face Art as he rolled a joint. “I’ve known her since before I knew you. Just, like, be spontaneous. That’s what I mean. Spontaneous. She’s into that because she’s like that too. And she’s… wicked mean, so don’t start shit. She’ll surprise you, but like, in a good way. What I said before makes me sound like a jackass,” Patrick paused to laugh. “Be in the moment. Don’t get in your head about it. Which you’re doing right now— I can tell, Arthur…” Patrick drew out Art’s full name (which he hated) to get under his skin.

Art stood up from the floor in frustration. He glanced at his watch. Too much time had passed. The window was metaphorically closing. Hastily, Art dashed to the door. “I’m going down there. Poor girl’s been waiting all this time because you, my friend, are a shitty advice-giver.”

“Spontaneous!” Patrick called after him with a grin.

Art stared at [Y/N]. Then he blinked. Then tilted his head to the side. Spontaneous. Before he knew it, he was tugging his shoes and socks off and diving into the pool. Art had been right, it was getting decisively cold and the pool water reflected that. Art swam out to where the wedges had floated too, which had actually been fairly far. He wasn’t sure if the net would have gotten them that easily. Art nicked the shoes by the ankle straps and shook his wet hair out of his face. As he paddled back, he glanced at [Y/N]’s expression. She smiled wide with joy and surprise at Art’s sacrifice.

“Art! Thank you so much!” She said when he flopped the waterlogged shoes onto the concrete. Art looked up at her from the water and he only looked up her skirt a little bit.

“It’s no trouble. Repayment’s in order, though.”

“Repayment…? What do you—“

Art wrapped his wet, callused hands around both of [Y/N] ankles and flipped her into the pool. She screamed as she splashed into the pool. Then laughed hard. Art wanted to hear that laugh for the rest of his life.

“Wait, fuck, you can swim, right?”

Fortunately, [Y/N] could, and that’s the move that won Art Donaldson his wife.

—

“Honey, you have to get up so you can get ready…” Art’s mouth moved against the shell of [Y/N]’s left ear. His arm was tossed over her middle. Normally, it was Art that dreaded getting out of bed, but clearly they enjoyed switching roles once in a while.

A nap had turned into two-and-a-half hours of [Y/N]’s soft snores while Art held her. He couldn’t sleep much, but luckily he had something beautiful to look at. She ripped into him about his staring problem all the time. Art couldn’t be bothered to give a damn. “No.” She mumbled.

“Please…” Art’s hand trailed under her shirt and climbed up, up, up.

“No,” she sighed. Art’s hands groped her left breast and [Y/N] didn’t particularly mind. She shivered at the contact. Art had known every inch of her body over years. Neither was bored yet, though.

“It’s one night. One party. We don’t have to stay all night… He’s not going to be there, Lenora told me when I RSVP’d.”

They had an unspoken rule. They did not name Patrick in conversation when sober. The wound was too fresh still.

“Don’t talk about him, or his fucking mom when you’re touching me like that,” [Y/N] all but moaned as Art’s left thumb circled her nipple. “‘Thought we had to get up…”

Art smirked. “We do. At least you’re awake now.” He teasingly withdrew his hand entirely from out of her shirt and scampered out of bed in one agile zip of a motion.

“Art!”

She groaned. Rolling on her back to look at the ceiling, she glanced over at Art walking through the master bathroom doorway in his briefs. What an incredible ass that man has. “Motivation to leave the party early.” Art said and popped off into the shower.

Maybe it was selfish. Patrick and [Y/N] and Art hadn’t spoken in almost a year. It was no surprise to the Donaldsons that Patrick was an addict. He had been addicted to almost everything and everyone that crossed his path. What they hadn’t expected was him becoming so out of control that he missed the wedding of his two best friends and was sent into rehab once he was declared medically stable. The one person that both Donaldsons had fought to have in their own personal half of the wedding party. And he wasn’t there. And the wedding was expensive enough to go through with it amid all the bad feelings over Patrick.

Still, they were invited to the Zweig family’s charity or whatever gala. They would go like they always had, too. But it would be their first time alone, so to speak.

[Y/N] regretfully got out of bed while Art showered. She moved to the closet and unzipped her paper thin dress bag. The gown itself was beautiful, but not all too expensive. The year had been tight in terms of money. The wedding and the honeymoon were pricey enough before you added in rackets and competition entry fees and coaching. Art was an expensive husband to have. He made up for it. He was playing at his best too, so [Y/N] hardly cared. Who could put a price on seeing Art smile like that?

[Y/N] cringed if she had to pay more than two-hundred dollars for shoes or a dress anyway.

The dress was green. She’d worn a lot of green since she met Art. [Y/N] dreaded wiggling into shapewear and spending too long on her hair. Art had it easy. A tie, a jacket and trading his nasty watch for his nicer one. It wasn’t fair. It never was with Art.

She got ready all the same. The straps rested on her shoulders, thicker than the early 2000s straps she had been dumped into the pool in. It was longer than that dress. Almost floor length instead of mid calf. It was elegant for its price tag.

Once the dress was on, [Y/N] tumbled into the bathroom to do her makeup. The shared counter was way too small for both of their shit to sit nicely on. She would complain about that when there was more money in the bank account to do something about it. Art was taking longer than normal in the shower. Boner, [Y/N] thought.

As she started to put her face on, she could see Art’s face in the foggy mirror behind her. The sound of the water stopping and the shower curtain being tossed back had gone unnoticed. He was smiling slightly. “You look nice.” He said softly. Art toweled off his shaggy hair harshly behind her. He kept looking at her.

This is how Art was. He made these remarkable heart eyes at her every time he saw her. [Y/N] could be wearing a potato sack and she would feel beautiful. That look, that staring problem, was worse a hundredfold when she was dressed up. He kept glancing at her. She could see him in the mirror. He wanted [Y/N] to see. The blue and brown of his eyes cast further and further down her body.

“Staring.” [Y/N] said simply. She didn’t even look away from her own face in the mirror.

“Yeah. And?” Art smiled cheekily. His face was bright red not from the warm shower water. He wrapped his towel around his slim waist. [Y/N] applied too much concealer and less blush. “I, of all people, am allowed.”

“Idiot.” [Y/N] said. Art dried his hands profusely on his towel, knowing she would squawk at him if he left wet handprints behind on her dress.

Art’s hands wrapped around her waist. Great pains were taken to prevent other wet spots from splopping up her dress. So, so gently, he kissed the left side of her neck from behind. “I was thinking—” Art was always gentle in his own way.

“Ooh, dangerous.”

“Shut up. Y’know, this is the first Zweig party where your placecard is going to say Donaldson on it…”

[Y/N] nodded softly. “Huh. Yeah. That’s true.” She said, smiling a bit.

“I’m really, really excited about that. On the seating chart, we’re the Donaldsons. Isn’t that so crazy…?” Art whispered into her plush skin. “Plural. Two of us.”

Teasingly, she nudged him back with her elbow. The smile was still wide on her lips. “You’re being such a girl about it.”

Art didn’t let go or relent. He pressed feather-light kisses between [Y/N]’s ear and collarbone. “Am I? Hadn’t noticed.”

“We’re going to be late to this thing you want to go to so bad, Mr. Donaldson, if you don’t stop.” [Y/N] whispered, incapable of doing more. She did set down her makeup sponge and pot of foundation with a clack.

“Would that be such a bad thing? Only a couple minutes, right? We could-we could cut out some of the boring small talk and…” Art said, daring boldly to drag his tongue up her throat as the steamed up mirror cleared some. He never finished his sentence verbally.

[Y/N] gasped at the feeling. That was a brave move for Art. “You drag me out of bed early so we can be late anyway. You don’t make any s-sense, babe.”

He huffed impishly. Art spun [Y/N] around to face him. His face and shoulders were damp from the water collected in his hair, which desperately needed a trim. Carefully, Art brushed [Y/N]’s hair away from her face. “You’re right… I’m sorry. Please let me make it up to you?”

“How?”

Then, Art’s mouth quirked into that crooked smile she loved so much.

“Please.” Art said in a hushed voice and boosted [Y/N] smoothly onto their rickety counter. “Give me ten minutes.”

“You can do better than ten.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Clock’s ticking.” When she said it, she heard Art’s knees hit the tile in front of her.

#art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you #art donaldson imagine #art donaldson #challengers movie #challengers #patrick zweig #tashi duncan

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fillinforlater · 4 months

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SULLied MINd

Male Reader x Kim Minju, Seol Yonna (Sullyoon)

Length: 10.228 words

Tags: art-project all nighter turns threesome, secret crushes, softly making out, stripping, striptease, shy to bold, double blowjob, worshiping cock and balls, cunnilingus, fingering, clit play, facial, cumsluts, virginity taken, missionary, sweat, stocking kink, riding, rimming, stand and carry, cum drinking, lots of perverted thoughts, lucky!you

TW: I barely finished this in time, so the editing is not that in depth lol

Inspiration: Minju and Sullyoon just go together very well, dunno if @sinswithpleasure was the first to give this idea, but the pairing definitely comes from The Bunker... the rest is my own craziness

(A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY FAVORITE GIRL! Happy Minju day to everyone, I hope you enjoy this fic which was supposed to be like around 4-5k...)

“No, you gotta put it in here, not in there!”

“I-I can’t, my hand is too big for the hole.”

“Then try using your fingers, that should work.”

“Eh, okay, but you need to hold onto the legs, otherwise it’ll fall over.”

“Let me get in between the—ah, Minju, watch out! Now my hand is all white.”

“Oops, Sorry.”

The struggle behind you is real, the struggle in front of you—the unfinished essay due tomorrow that is—is real too, but those spoken words cannot be real. You know exactly what Minju and Sullyoon are referring to when talking about white stuff and holes and size. After all, they are working hard to wrap up the project all of you have procrastinated on for so long and it’s bound to be a mess.

You start to trip over your own unspoken words. The lewdness in your mind is unfathomable, a mess can be a mess without mess being the wild, chaotic, imaginary sex that seems to creep into your brain more and more.

No, focus. It’s just a mess because Sullyoon and Minju still don’t know how to put together the human-sized post-modern sculpture of a robot made from cardboard, newspapers and glue—white glue, that drips from Sullyoon’s hand as she tries to shove a painted cardboard cylinder into—

You did it again. Your thoughts are betraying you.

“What are you looking at?” Sullyoon nags, when she spots your dreamy gaze on her hand. Wait, are you drooling? What the fuck is happening?

“N-nothing, nothing,” you quickly turn around and look at the pathetic pile of words that neither make sense nor reach the required minimum amount to pass. “It’s just that—you two are too loud, I can’t concentrate.”

Minju throws you a concerned look, while Sullyoon aggressively wipes her hands on a paper towel and hits you over the head with a piece of cardboard. Now there’s some stickiness in your hair

“Oh yeah? You’re still the furthest behind—I’ll do the writing, I can’t build for shit—that’s what you said and you are still not finished.”

“Sully, please, don’t scream,” Minju groans and gets on her knees in between the sculptures legs, her head on level with what could be its crotch. “Let’s just focus, okay? Can you give me the, uhm, white stuff? I need to fix the butt.”

And now Minju is spreading glue all over the—it’s better you look away and focus on the task ahead. The essay should go over all the different periods of, uhm. Or maybe the various stages during, some-thing? Perhaps the teacher wants a concise summary of how you came up with the idea and created the illusion of Sullyoon sticking her fingers in Minju’s pussy and making her face contort into—

“You’re drooling!” Sullyoon shouts and hits you again.

“Sully, please!” Minju tries to calm the situation down.

“What? Can I not be angry that this lazy ass is just daydreaming—”

“Sully, language! And stop screaming!”

“You’re both screaming and shouting, how should I concentrate?”

“You—”

Sullyoon is about to throw hands. Though they both might give off a similar reserved, kind, beauty vibe to the unsuspecting outsider, Sullyoon and Minju are quite different. It shows now more than ever, when Sullyoon slams her fist on the desk next to you and stares you down into the chair, while Minju sits on her bed, one leg crossed over the other, head lowered in defeat and annoyance.

“Stand up,” Sullyoon orders, her grip on your biceps harsh, as if she tried to scar you with her nails. “I’ll do it, save the project while you can fuck off.”

“The fuck?” you shout back, face angry. Sullyoon’s hand is slapped away and you’re about to fight more if she doesn’t back off. “You won’t do anything, and don’t curse at me. Who do you think you are?”

“Guys—”

“Oh my God, you’re unbelievable!” Sullyoon interrupts Minju and opens her adorable eyes wide in rage. “You’re gonna fail us with that—pathetic excuse of a text.”

“It would be better if you could keep your mouth shut, Sullyoon, and let me finish this in peace. Also, the robot is still not upright. If he falls over, Miss Kwon will rip our heads off.” You can barely hold yourself together. The only positive thoughts for Sullyoon, if you can call them that, are the lewd ones, those imagining her naked, her navel exposed, her pussy bare.

“Guys, I—!”

“Oh and that’s my fault? I bet your drool will make it unstable. I swear if you turn around one more time—”

“Then what? You’ll beat me, assault me? I think Miss Kwon won’t give you a better grade then—”

An ear-shattering boom. The door is shut, the door to Minju’s room—Minju, who is not with you anymore. For such a kind and bubbly girl, this fight must have killed her. She was the one suggesting that you all do the project at her place, with her parents out of town. She made cookies beforehand and had something planned for dinner too.

“I-I think we overdid it,” Sullyoon sums it up with an usually soft whisper and you nod in shame. Minju has been nothing short of an excellent host for the two of you.

Suddenly, Sullyoon’s phone rings. She doesn’t get time to answer it however, as the caller seems to end the call within a moment's notice.

“I’ll be out, gimme a second,” Sullyoon says and runs to the door.

“Sure.” She didn’t even hear that, that’s how quiet your voice was. Outside, you hear Sullyoon hurrying down the stairs. There is turmoil in your head about what you ought to do. Should you just sit here and wait for them to come back? Is it better if you go downstairs as well, apologize to Minju, so the three of you can continue with the project? Should you continue alone, perhaps?

You decide on option four: sneak towards the door, carefully open it and then lay low while trying to pick up what they are talking about. They surely aren’t fighting anymore, but their voices are loud enough for you to clearly hear every word.

“It was stupid of me, okay? Can we go back upstairs and finish our sculpture?” Sullyoon asks with loving care.

“I-I don’t know if I can,” Minju sniffles. “This was embarrassing.”

“What do you mean? You weren’t embarrassing, we were. This fight was—”

“No, you don’t get it, Sully!”

Now things seem to get heated. You can hear Minju jumping up from a chair, while Sullyoon gasps.

“Then explain it to me, Minju!”

“Okay, screw it.

“I like him, okay? Two years, I have waited two years for us to finally be in a project—and now you two are fighting! You are ruining my chances with him!”

The silence is deafening. If you weren’t lying prone on the floor already, your knees would have collapsed and you would’ve landed in the same spot anyways. What a revelation! For the first time in your life, you believe that either your ears are deceiving you or that you’re in the most lucid dream imaginable. Never before has a girl had feelings for you—

“This can’t be real,” Sullyoon suddenly laughs out loud. “You like this guy?”

“Wha-what do you mean?” Minju hisses back, whiny, like she’s about to cry. “He is very-very handsome a-and I’ve seen his abs. He is also smart, have you heard him talk about history? It’s so attractive.”

“Yeah, of course I have, he is like talking non-stop in history class.” Sullyoon’s tone has shifted from shocked and dismissive to a bit dreamy, almost like she is admiring you. “And the way he pronounces all these foreign words, or how he gives it his all in PE—”

“Wait a minute,” Minju interjects and you can hear the grin as it forms on her face. “You like him too, Sully!”

“Not anymore, not after his lazy ass didn’t do a damn thing during our project.” Another second of silence, then both of them start laughing hysterically, one is stomping on the floor, the other tries to cover her mouth to muffle the loudness.

You’ve heard enough. No, seriously. At this point, you could die happily. Two of the prettiest girls in the entire school like you and both of them are in your project group which will surely last until the next morning at your current pace. What else could you want more? Countless guys would kill to have such an opportunity.

But you want more.

“Crazy, we have the same crush. Oh, have you seen the pictures of his abs?” Minju asks excitedly after the two have finished their laughing fit.

“No, but I was about to ask: how did you get those?” Sullyoon gasps again and then giggles while both start to whisper. The whispers are too quiet, you can barely pick up any syllables. This marks the perfect moment to get back in front of the PC so they won’t catch you eavesdropping when they come back up. It also gives you time to think about what you want to do.

The image of them and their crush on you hasn’t fully settled yet, however, you’re already planning how this night might continue, what might happen, what you should say. Unlike during exams, you don’t feel pressure or tension that’s about to crush you—there is just excitement and a feeling of being loved.

“Hey, we-we are back,” Minju says a few minutes later, her face all red when she enters her room. Sullyoon follows after her, her hair a bit messier than before. Unlike Minju, she is able to hide her feelings for you quite well, now that you know.

“Hey,” you respond with a soft voice. “Look, Minju, I’m so sorry about earlier. I should’ve done my job. I won’t let you guys down this time, I promise. Sullyoon, if you want to, you can write the text. Sorry that I was so rude earlier.”

“I-it’s fine.” Both their voices seem to break when you stand up and give each an apologetic bow. With your new knowledge, you assume that this is a good sign, like selecting the correct dialogue option in a video game.

“Are you sure you want to switch, though?” Sullyoon asks and you nod.

“It’s settled then.” Minju grabs a wrist from you and a wrist from Sullyoon and has this adorable, bright smile on her beaming face. “Let’s not fight anymore and finish this dang project!”

“You are absolutely right, Minju!” you gleefully say. “You two are pretty awesome, so I’ll give it my all.”

Both their breaths pick up in pace; who would have thought that you could make the hearts of girls flutter with just a bright, sunshine smile. Sullyoon and Minju quickly dive back into work, ears still red, and you pretend to be completely unaware. Unaware of their feelings, unaware of their hopes, unaware of their—potentially sullied thoughts.

But could those two angelic looking girls really have the same impurities in their minds as you do? Can it match your fantasies of one of them admitting their love to you tonight, you kissing, cuddling and fucking secretly in the bathroom, while the other continues to work on the project? Maybe they have similar thought, but did they ever consider—

“Can you, uhm, hand me the, eh—” Minju stutters and taps her temple in thought. She looks adorable doing so.

“Do you need the model? Some cardboard? Scissors?” you ask back but Minju shakes her head, a bit abashed that she lacks the focus to say which item she needs. Thinking of scissors, your fantasy does not stop at some one-on–one lovemaking. You’d want the other to join, all three of your tongues in a make out session while your hand is in the back of their panties. You want to fondle their butts and hear them moan before they would scissor, their wet pussies rubbing up and down your manhood until you explode.

“I need the… white stuff.”

“You need the white stuff—from me?”

A quiet whisper, Sullyoon could not have picked it up. Minju halts for a second, then her face turns beet red and she hides it behind her palms, while her eyes keep looking at your awfully-well played innocent expression. Worriedly, you reach for her face and Minju gasps. What does she expect? Certainly not what follows.

“Oh, there is some glue in your hair, Minju. Guess we should wash out the white stuff~”

With that said, you grab her hand and pull her out of her bedroom. To the surprise of Sullyoon, whose questions go unheard, you and Minju enter the upper floor bathroom. There you immediately find a wet towel and start to rub Minju’s hair, and with every second that you dishevel her hair, you also seem to dishevel her mind.

Minju is perplexed, trembling, unable to react to you, especially when you inch closer and really focus on that annoying spot. The two of you forgot to turn on the bathroom lights, so there is only the dim moonlight to reveal to you the absolute dream that are Minju’s eyes: full of love, uncertainty and want.

“I think I got it out,” you finally whisper and drop the towel. “Sorry for messing up your hair.”

Minju smiles softly: “N-no, thank you. You might have saved it, a-actually.”

“Minju—” A moment of silence, full of purpose, of tension, but you bask in it. You can hear Minju’s heart racing and if you’re honest, the muscle in your chest is pumping like crazy as well. “You, you are very beautiful, one of the prettiest girls on this planet.”

“Re-really!?”

“Yes. I wish I could

“Kiss your lips; they look so soft.”

They are so soft, no doubt about it, especially when they accept you so willingly at first and then won’t let go when you try to pull back a little. Minju is on cloud nine and she wants to stay. Her adorable hands hold onto your sleeves, while you hold the back of her head securely in the palm of your hand. There is no tongue movement, there is no tongue movement needed, because it all comes together for her—

A fairy tale moment, out of nowhere, for the girl with her crush.

But your play isn’t over. After a short while, you regretfully remove yourself from her lips and continue to hold her close, hand on the small of her back. When you look down you are greeted by a look—this look of mesmerized love, with teary eyes of joy and panting lips of desire on Minju’s flawless features. How could you want more?

This is how mankind moves forward: by wanting what they don’t yet have.

“Minju,” you take a deep breath and close your eyes. “I—before we continue, and I really do want to—I have to tell you something.”

“Y-yes?”

“I like you, I really, really like you.

“But you know how multiple people can have the same crush? I, my heart, has this issue that—I, I like multiple people! I can never escape it, there is nothing I can do. That doesn’t mean that my love isn’t real—I just want to be honest with you.”

Minju, in the midst of all these surprises and twists and turns for her, looks surprisingly calm and nods carelessly. Of course she is a bit dazed, after all, your lips were just on hers and she can take them back just by getting on her toes, but this should still be a bit weird for her. At least, that is what you assumed.

“I-I don’t care,” she suddenly blurts out and her arms wrap around you tightly. “Why should I judge you? There are probably so many pretty girls out there. I-I’m just happy that you… noticed me.”

“Are you for real?” In a sudden surge of happiness, you lift Minju up and spin her around. “You are so wonderful, I know why I fell in love with you.”

This should wrap up your Oscar performance—well, it’s already beyond that. At this point the feelings for Minju feel more than just acted. How could they not? She is gorgeous, light, her lips are tender, her character adorable and you cannot escape what your heart is telling you: love her, because she loves you.

There is however still—

“Pl-please! Please love me too!”

A loud scream, and Sullyoon bursts into the room. You may not be able to see the correct colors of her face, but you know she is either pale because Minju ‘stole’ you from her or she is red all over because she thinks there is a chance, a tiny chance that you also like her. Nonetheless, all these thoughts become irrelevant, because Minju almost collapses from shock. You catch her before she is able to hit her head on the sink.

The bathroom door still rattles, but the three of you just stare at one another, eyes wide open. The situation is so absurd, you must be dreaming, dead or in heaven—all at the same time, Minju’s entire existence is in your arms and Sullyoon seems willing to join her. She is close, her hands folded as if she is begging for your love. Her breath is hot, right in your face and so unsteady.

“Sullyoon.” Minju’s voice is faint, not even a whisper, but it’s loud. It’s both a statement and a question, a question directed at you. Is this what you were talking about earlier? Could it really be that the two who have a crush on you, would not have to fight? To put it very simply: Do you love Sullyoon too?

At least tonight, you do.

“I—

“I do, actually.” Those few words have you out of breath, before you can continue, Sullyoon has taken a spot in your arms next to Minju. The speed with which your dreams come true is mind boggling, but you play it cool and hold both of them close, an arm around each of their waists.

“You mean it?” Sullyoon has never sounded this cute, not in class, not during breaks and definitely not tonight. Who can resist her with those pouty lips that adorn silky smooth, perfectly symmetrical features? “You really like me?”

“Yes, I do, I like you both. This, this has to be a dream.”

“What, uhm,” Minju stutters and looks at you, similar expression to Sullyoon, her eyes also beaming, her chin tilted towards you—their similarities become uncanny in this dimly lit bathroom. “What are we going to do now?”

“I don’t know,” you whisper and smile.

“We still have a project to finish,” Sullyoon sighs and puts her head against your chest, which does not make for a good pillow with its constant up and down movement and Minju right next to her.

“I never thought I’d say this, but I think we should finish it. Let’s focus and then maybe our thoughts are a bit more… sorted.” Both girls nod, but it takes some more convincing before they let you go. The fear that they could lose you to the other makes them stay a bit longer until you have to push through them. It’s a playful struggle, which is only resolved when the three of you go back to Minju’s room.

All is quiet for a good, productive thirty minutes. The cardboard sculpture is finally painted and read to dry, the text only needs a few more tweaks, the project is in its final stage. All you can think about, however, are your groupmates, especially when your sight drifts away from the task ahead to their faces, their hands, their hips.

“Minju, can you help me?” Sullyoon groans. “I need to finish, this bottom part is so hard!”

“Of course, let me just—put this here and this into that—do you think it fits now?”

“It still looks too big, don’t you think? Maybe we should stretch it—”

“Or we could share it? I think if we both do it, it will be better.”

Hit yourself on your forehead, because the brain behind it once again can only think of the lewd. Minju and Sullyoon are trying their best to format this text and split it into fair portions for the presentation—yet all you think about is how they admire your big cock, share it in between their parted lips and then, Minju helps Sullyoon to go down on it with her throat.

After you are all covered in her spit, Sullyoon would grab your base and put it on Minju’s folds, ease you into her and all kinds of moans would fill the room and alert all neighbors who are still awake.

“I think this is good,” Minju ultimately concludes and turns to you. “Do you want to take a look too?”

You shake your head. “Uhm, no, I’m sure it’s excellent. Wow, looks like we really finished it.”

“Okay, so.” Sullyoon spins around in her chair, hands hidden in between her thighs and everything vibrates. “Are we going to talk now about… our situation?”

“I think we are all adults, we can talk about it.” Minju fidgets a bit and looks at you. They are both waiting for you to say something, but you just smirk without a worry in the world and lay down on Minju’s bed.

“Sure, we can talk. Let’s be honest, be free. Don’t care what the rest things, just

“Tell me what you feel.”

Sullyoon pushes the chair closer to you with her feet and Minju sits down on her bed, less bold than Sullyoon, because her eyes are fixed on the other end of the mattress. You get her attention when you fingers lock with hers, but the first to speak up is Sullyoon.

“I think I have a crush on you. Two years ago it started and I can’t explain why, but—you grew very handsome during that time a-and you’re pretty smart, so—”

“I feel the same!” Minju suddenly shouts and her fingers squeeze yours tightly. “And sorry, I-I once took a picture of your, uhm, abs when you changed your shirt. It was stupid, I’ll delete it right now—”

You laugh and pull Minju on top of you. Now her gaze cannot escape yours anymore and she has to see the true awe in your eyes. A natural awe for her beauty, her kindness and the way her honesty reveals all those secret feelings.

“Delete them if you like,” you hum and place the palm of Minju’s hand on your abdomen while flexing your muscles. “But you can take some more high quality pictures, if you want to.”

Jealousy overtakes a formerly hesitant Sullyoon and she pounces onto the bed next to you. Her hands are still hidden in between her thighs, but you can see that she wants to touch what Minju is already groping.

Sullyoon doesn’t even have to ask. You grab her wrist and slowly guide it under your sweatshirt. Though she tries to act shocked and abashed, you can feel her digits roaming all over your abs greedily as she visibly drools. Minju had most of your attention until now. Now it’s Sullyoon’s turn to feel your love in the form of a wet kiss pressed right onto her already wet lips. Unlike Minju, she tries to go all in on the first go, but you quickly pull away with a chuckle and watch her eager tongue searching for your mouth.

“Sully, open your eyes,” you softly laugh at her and drag a finger over her flushed, tender cheek as she does so. “Don’t be scared, I’m not going anywhere. If you are okay with it, I can love you both with all my heart.”

“I want to share you,” she says with determination and immediately contradicts her statement by lunging at you and starting a torrential kiss that has Minju hiding her face behind her long, cascading hair. It’s all faux, because in the meantime, she has rolled up your sweatshirt to your chest. Gently she pokes your pecs and you giggle into the kiss with Sullyoon.

“Good to know we are all on the same page,” you finally voice your own feelings when Sullyoon backs off to catch her breath. “I think I could cuddle you both for the rest of the night and forget every worry, every task, every stupid responsibility ahead of us.”

Funny how your dreams come true, again. An arm around each of their waists, you pull Minju and Sullyoon deeper into the softness of pillows and blankets generously spread on Minju’s mattress. Both your cheeks are quickly peppered with kisses, cute, hesitant ones from Minju, from chin to ear and wild, playful ones from Sullyoon, from the edge of your collarbone to your lips. She seals them again and this time you can hear Minju become jealous with a loud huff.

This back and forth of envy, you see no way to disrupt it anytime soon. Come to think of it, maybe you don’t want to. This dynamic pushes them further to reveal more of their love, so give them what they want. You are theirs to love and play with—but you will play with them too.

“Minju,” you say, your voice purposefully low and more serious than before. “You have such amazing hips. They are wide and look so perfect on you.”

You turn towards her and reach for the top of her skirt. Insert a couple fingers into it and let them glide along the waistband until you reach the outermost point of her hips. Minju tenses up when you begin to grab her hips, the skin of your palms right on her underwear, slipped into her skirt. You pull her even closer and she is back to holding onto your sleeves.

“Such nice hips.” Rub them, and Minju starts to rub herself on you, face on your bare chest and crotch on your thigh. Speaking of thighs, Sullyoon might have felt neglected for a second, so you find her mouth with ease and bully her tongue with yours while putting a hand on her inner thigh. Sullyoon shrieks the more you touch her jeans-clad legs, no matter if you go down to where her calves begin or if you go up to where her pussy is aching.

“Wow, Sully, your legs, your thighs are fantastic. I bet they are very soft.”

“T-touch them more, please,” Sullyoon softly whimpers and you nod. Minju is too enamored with her own thighs around yours, she does not realize her friend popping open her jeans and sliding them down. Your hesitation, your careful planning gets thrown out of the window when you slide your hand over her soft skin and go to bite her lips.

“They are the softest, damn, I could knead them all day long.” Your hot breath mixes with Sullyoon when you go from some basic thigh stimulation to cupping her sex and pressing your palm on her covered clit. “Your panties are cute too~”

No time to focus on Sullyoon’s embarrassed face, because Minju’s takes your entire view. You try to kiss her mouth but she backs off, even climbs off the bed and stands next to it. Both her hands firmly grasps the hem of her skirt, her knuckles turn white—that’s how hard she grabs it while her voice sounds absolutely love drunk:

“I-I have cute panties too,” she complains and lifts her skirt up, higher than you thought she would dare to. Not only you, her crush, that can see this most private part, but her friend can as well. Your eyes are glued to the small, pink garment with its tiny wet spot at the front, very cute indeed, maybe even cuter than Sullyoon’s baby blue panties which at this point become ruined on your hand.

“They are really cute, Minju.” You smile, she cracks a small smile. “I did not know you two had such lewd minds and wild fantasies.”

“Can we see y-your underwear now?” Sullyoon avoids your statement with a pout while simultaneously confirming it. Minju joins her nods, skirt still held high, her panties just a bit wetter at the thought of you. “Yes, please, we-we want to see it, it’s only fair!”

“Hm, how about a deal then, my two lewd girlfriends: I’m all yours, you can undress me and play with me until you are satisfied, but first you give me a show. I want you two undressing each other slowly. Sounds like a deal?”

At this point, everything is so out of control, you might as well ask for a favor that usually would get you kicked out. After all, this isn’t porn, not every girl is into girls and into threesomes, but Minju and Sullyoon have shown to be so needy for you, their libido will take over all reasoning. To no surprise, both only hesitate for a second.

“I’m okay with that,” Sullyoon whispers. “You too, Minju?” She leaves the spot in your arm and walks behind her friend. “Are you okay with me touching you?”

“S-sure.” They both get into it quickly. Minju drops her arms and lets them dangle while her needy face is directed at you. Sullyoon makes sure you can see her fingers play with the waistband of Minju’s skirt, just like you did, and she teases you by only pulling down one side, then the other. It’s only when you groan in disapproval that she moves upwards and pulls Minju’s sweatshirt over her head.

You totally expected a bra behind this comfy, cotton barrier, but no: Minju is wearing a white shirt underneath and the tease just continues. Sullyoon finds the lowest button first and works her way up, sending chills down Minju’s spine.

An amazing midriff, toned abs around a cute little navel; you can’t help but ogle when Sullyoon presses her fingers into them and gasps in surprise. No words need to be spoken—that’s probably how Minju likes it more as well. She struggles to relax, especially when the final button pops and her shirt opens like curtains to reveal her bra, the same color as her panties, erect nipples visible through the thin garment.

“May I?” Sullyoon asks, basically blowing the question into Minju’s ear as her hands already fiddle with the clasp of the bra. The sound of silence is nothing but hot breaths and the faint creaking of Minju’s bed as you adjust yourself to get closer with her still-covered breasts.

Still covered.

“O-okay,” Minju whispers, whines, it doesn’t matter, you finally get to see her upper body in all its glory, and you find glory to be an understatement: her breasts are perfectly symmetrical, not saggy but quite perky and a bit smaller than your hands. You could cover them up and knead them without much effort; it takes effort however to not look absolutely overwhelmed as your dreamy eyes focus on erect nipples and round arolae.

“What do you think?” Sullyoon asks the question with an answer that is obvious but hard to put into words.

“Minju, your body looks…

“... very, very hot. I-I’ve never seen something so flawless.”

“And you haven’t even seen what’s behind this~” Sullyoon’s voice is sultry as she taps Minju’s skirt. She once again teases you, her smooth hand under the skirt and once you hear Minju shriek, you know what she is about to do.

Sullyoon removes those stained panties, while Minju still wears her skirt. The miniscule petite underwear wraps around her ankles while her dainty digits wrap around the hem of her skirt. At this point, your drool cannot be held back. You need to see her most private place.

“Let, let me do it!” Minju says with confidence and as if she’s as impatient as you are, pulls the skirt up and shuts her eyes. Sullyoon chuckles lightly and gets a hold of Minju’s hips, while you are about to dive into those wet folds, small and pink and definitely untouched. You notice a small strip of hair above her clit which looks like it should twitch at any moment. Minju’s visible arousal becomes your visible arousal and before you can end the teasing session and start a new session, Sullyoon interrupts you:

“Shouldn’t Minju undress me now?”

“Wha—oh… yeah, sure,” you respond and hold your horny horses. Minju looks a bit dazed when she drops the skirt and opens her eyes again. You help her gain focus by reaching for her hands and holding them. “Nothing to be ashamed of, Minju, you are perfect down there as well.”

“Re-really?”

“Yes, I’d never lie to the girls I love.

“Now, why don’t you help Sullyoon get out of those… tight jeans?”

Sullyoon smirks. Without you noticing it, she pulled her pants back up and made sure that they showed the outline of her shapely butt. She is a tease like no one before or after; fortunately, Minju seems to not get what teasing is about: with you still right beside her, she puts all her strength at pulling the denim down—the denim and Sullyoon’s panties.

“Eh, what are you—Minju!” Sullyoon complains loudly.

“So-sorry, did I do it wrong?”

“You, you were too fast!” The shyness returns to Sullyoon’s face as she buries it in the crook of her arm.

“No reason to fight,” you ease the flames of conflict burning before you. “I think Minju did a great job and your butt is great, Sullyoon.”

“No, don’t say that, it’s too big!”

“I’m gonna say it again.” You emphasize your words with a good squeeze on both her cheeks while Minju’s wide eyes are on the dumpy before her. “You have a fantastic butt, not too big, definitely not too small, perfect.”

Your kneading hands leave Sullyoon a mewling mess, speechless, even as Minju goes and undresses her further. It’s all a lot quicker, the top is removed easily, the bra falls with a simple click and Sullyoon is the first to be fully nude. She stops your continued handsy attacks on her ass with a spin around. Unlike Minju, her pussy is freshly shaven and her entire body looks like it was made just for this moment.

“Someone is prepared,” you say with a smile and drag a finger up her midriff to her tits which are nice handfuls of their own, similar in size and shape to Minju’s.

“You are mean,” Sullyoon pouts and suddenly starts to embrace you. You gasp. Her body is almost scorching hot. “I waited so long for this.”

“I bet you couldn’t look better. No dream, no imagination can make your body look any sexier.”

“Thank you, I’m glad you like it.”

The sound of someone crawling onto the bed gets your attention. Minju lays next to you, her skirt finally kicked away and she stretches her arms forward in search of your embrace. That poor girl is desperate, however, you don't make it to her before Sullyoon unzips your pants.

“It’s only fair if we get to see you too, right, Minju?” Sullyoon asks, her tone making it clear that the answer cannot differ from her needs.

“Should I strip for you too?” you say with a witty smile, but Minju comes to Sullyoon’s aid.

“Enough teases, I—I can barely think!”

The striptease must have set something in motion within Minju: her shyness is only apparent on her fully red cheeks, her hands have already taken a different path. Boldly, they yank down both your pants and briefs in strong pulls, past your erection, which comes back swinging at her. Minju dodges it, because she can’t stop looking at Sullyoon behind you, arms resting on your shoulder, lips suckling at your neck.

“So big!” Minju can’t hold back her shock and awe at the shape, the bend, the size.

“Yeah,” Sullyoon dreamily adds. “We really have to share him from now on.”

Things are out of control. Every further plan of slowly getting to your dream threesome scenario are useless, laughable, when both your new lovers shove you down into the mattress and somehow find space on and in between your legs to intently stare at and past your phallus. Minju and Sullyoon are often not on the same page, sometimes polar opposites in class, but tonight they are more than united.

While Minju is in awe at how you throb and seemingly still grow into the air, Sullyoon eagerly spits into her hand and slowly spreads her saliva on your shaft. The thoughtfulness, carefulness and softness of her fingers make every pump of hers fade into absurdity. Right from the get go, Sullyoon’s handjob is already on the level of jerking yourself off.

“Have you ever done this, Minju?”

“N-no, never. Not even close.”

“I—only have with not real dicks.” The two blush, but there is no need to intervene. Unlike in most classes, they are eager to study for themselves, learn new tricks and test them on you.

“How about you start down at his… sac, while I go from the top?” Sullyoon suggests and Minju nods. However, you still see hesitance in her eyes, probably because she is afraid of screwing things up or making it awkward.

“They are full for you, Minju,” you softly coo and brush her hair as she almost puts her lips on them. Okay, maybe she needs the tiniest of pushing to finally— “Put your lips on them, give them a kiss. Nothing to be afraid of.”

Sullyoon is definitely not afraid. She wraps her mouth around your cockhead and begins to twirl her tongue around it. The taste of your precum must have urged her on, because she hums happily and sucks loudly. It’s like your cock is the straw in her favorite drink, that's how aggressively she sucks and her eyes roll into the back of her head. Meanwhile Minju sneakily tries to find the best spot to wrap her lips around your crown jewels, her adorable expression unpurified when she decides to go for it.

“Oh fuck!” you groan and your body arches involuntarily. More of your manhood is pressed onto their faces, into their eagerly drooling holes; it makes you wonder if you even need their pussies if this already feels so heavenly. The eagerness and playfulness of Sullyoon paired with the gentleness and sweetness of Minju makes for a double blowjob that could drain you embarrassingly fast.

Something inside your stomach tells you to just release it. Let them suck, let them play, until you just release it all over them without worry in deep bliss. Before that happens, you have to get back at them. It would be quite the disappointing night if this was your only load and they wouldn’t have any stimulation until then. You have to come up with a plan, while Sullyoon pops you from her mouth with a deep moan.

“Minju, let’s switch,” she suggests. “He tastes really good, you have to try it. Don’t worry about the size, I couldn’t take it either.”

“Oh, okay, his, his balls are quite hard. Does this mean they are full?”

“Fuck, yes,” you interrupt their horny conversation, ready to announce your plan. A plan that will surely distract you and them to the point all of you will have the best of fun. “After you’ve switched, how about you turn your butts towards me? You’re doing a fantastic job, I want to return the favor.”

They lock eyes, then look at you and nod. Sullyoon has this grin on her lips, as if she can’t wait for your fingers and tongue on her labia. Minju, again, might look quite abashed, but she is quicker than Sullyoon when it comes to showing you her behind. The sight of her bare ass, tiny pink pussy and thighs spilling out of black stockings has you drooling, almost neglecting Sullyoon’s equally remarkable offer.

Sadly, you only have one tongue and so you dive into Minju’s cunt first. In what has to be the most mind-melting moment in her life, the beautiful girl sucks in your addictive taste while for the first time, someone touches her virgin sex. Minju moans around your length while you lick all the way from her clit to her asshole in long quick swipes. You watch her body tremble and decide to put an arm around it so she doesn’t sway away from your mouth, which digs into her sensitive folds.

Speaking of sensitive folds, your other hand has found more of those. Sullyoon’s innie, beautifully smooth, spills wetness forth and guides you to the well-lubricated entrance. You don’t even have to see anything to slip your middle finger inside her. Sullyoon gasps and nuzzles her soft cheek against your balls, while a little bit higher, Minju has lost all shame.

“Yummy, yummy,” she babbles every half second when your cock leaves her mouth. The two of you seem to share the same thought: These perverted fluids are delicious, I better get as much as I can.

In your mutual delight, Sullyoon momentarily rips you out of it, just to make things even better. She bunches up Minju’s hair in a hand and starts to put her lips on Minju’s. Their tongues battle, luckily your tip is there to separate them, though it does not want peace: it wants all out war.

For this brilliant idea, you decide to switch and bury your face in Sullyoon’s ass then quickly move to her cunt and pierce it open with your wet muscle, the same muscle Minju’s twitching hole misses. She has to finish on your hand, so you decide to twirl her exposed clit in between your fingers.

The greatest trio in the world's most renowned orchestra could not compare to the harmonies your different moans produce. They are unfiltered, not played for a camera, not exaggerated—but still so loud, booming, climactic, when Sullyoon shutters. Her juices gush into your mouth, more when she leans back and presses her pussy on your face.

Minju follows quickly, almost sitting on and riding your hand as it lays there, fingers tapping upwards, against her nub. Her orgasm is not as wet, but you feel the bed shake when she cums and seemingly goes to another reality. You’re glad she physically stays, her tongue still eager at your slit—and Sullyoon is on the other side, making out with her and your cockhead.

You're incredibly hard, an iron-like rod, a tip that is purple and sensitive yet absolutely numb and only begging for what might as well be the best and final release. The thought of this ever happening again does not cross your mind, a void of nothing but pleasure. You have to give it your all now and so you buckle upwards in between their sandwiching lips and explode without warning.

“Fuuuck,” Sullyoon groans. Minju yelps, a high pitch as she still rides out her own orgasm on your palm. Your first is bombastic, a shot up in the air that rains down on their faces while the rest is equally distributed on their tender cheeks, silky lips, hot tongues. No need to mention that a lot ends up in places where the clean up will be more annoying: hair, bedsheets, even clothes have stains of white on them.

Who cares, really? Not Minju, who still laps up what leaks out of your aching, overstimulated cock. Not Sullyoon, who is out of breath and uses your thigh as a pillow. Certainly not you who literally passed out for a second and only returns because Minju sucks too strongly.

“Ouch, fuck, Min-Minju it hurts—”

“You tasht sho good, I want more.”

“Then, ahhh, get it from Sullyoon’s face, I-I don’t have anything anymore.”

Minju listens and obidies, unable to remember her shy nature when she sucks on Sullyoon’s skin to get all of your spunk off of her. Sullyoon is unfazed, mewling a bit before finding your gaze. She smirks and suddenly, the tip of her index finger touches your balls.

“You're lying,” she whispers. “You have at least one more in you.”

“I-I don’t think so.” Shake your head to emphasize your words, but Sullyoon emphasizes her belief more thoroughly by pumping from your base up. Slow strokes to keep the pressure in it, she makes sure to keep her mouth a literal breath away, a hot breath that takes your breath away. Your eyelids shutter.

“Are you sure he can keep going?” Minju cutely asks, the final remnants of cum she collected from Sullyoon’s forehead on her finger which she promptly puts in her mouth and cleans thoroughly. “I could really go for another.”

“Don’t you want him to take your virginity?” Sullyoon’s question somehow has the blush return to Minju’s ears, she turns around abashed. It’s unbelievable: a second ago, she was the biggest cumslut, now she is afraid of what feels like a logical next step if it weren’t for…

“We can’t, Sully,” you say and reach for both their heads and pat them. “Not going to do it if we don’t have condoms, and maybe we should take some time? This is all a bit—”

“Crazy?” Sullyoon climbs off the bed and searches through her backpack, to the confusion of both you and Minju. It takes her a while to find what she is looking for, so you enjoy seeing her ass in the squatting position. “Is it crazy that I have these?”

She throws you a pack of condoms. You blink.

“Is it crazy that I want you to take my virginity tonight?” Sullyoon sneaks back like a predator, adorable looking, dangerously feeling up your thigh to your once again hard length. You don’t let her have her way, grab her wrists and look at Minju.

“You are crazy. Look in whose bed we are! Minju, what do—”

“I-I’m fine with it!” Minju cups her cheeks and her gaze can’t fix on either your or Sullyoon’s face. “I can give you privacy, if you want.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Sullyoon laughs. “You should join us. I’d let you go first, if you want.” She licks her lips and even with her arms being held down by you, she gets her flat tummy to rub on your manhood, close to her heat which you can no longer resist.

“I’ll get some water, you… do you.” Minju’s words are hastily spoken, her sentence finished when she is already out of the door. This settles it for you. You’re going to fuck Sullyoon; her first time is yours and the way she rips open the wrapping of the first condom leaves no doubt in your mind:

This girl loves you and wants you now.

“How do you want it?” you ask and roll the thin, barely-there rubber down your cock.

“I want you to push in me, push my body into the bed, slowly at first. Be careful until I tell you to go faster. Fuck me, hug me, do it so good and hard that I forget that there was ever a time where you didn’t love me.”

“Sounds—

Let go of her wrists and Sullyoon lets her amazing body fall into the cushions. Her lewd expression shifts; nervousness, only a little, seriousness, a little more—thrill, endless amounts of thrill. The same counts for you.

“—good. Spread your legs for me, Sullyoon. Breathe and relax.”

Those wonderful legs not only spread for you, they actually wrap around you, their smoothness suddenly suffocating and now it’s you who needs to breathe. Your cock slips into her so easily, your tip parts her, enters and if it weren’t for her wince you would’ve gone hilt deep right away. Sullyoon’s eagerness momentarily comes to a halt as she realizes that you are a bit different from her toys.

“Wow,” she mumbles mindlessly. “You’re so wide and hard and warm—nothing like a… a…”

“Like a dildo?” you tease her and gradually drag your tip along her walls and then out of the blissful heat. Her legs make sure to push you back in and now she is even tighter. Sullyoon wants you to stay, you can’t leave without your permission. “Tell me when it hurts.”

“Actually—”

Her digits find your nape and pull you down to where her lips pucker.

“—I want you to hammer your cock into me now. Mold my pussy in its shape. Hold back only if I say stop.”

“Got it.” Kiss her lips. “I love you, Sully.”

Sometimes, you need to let go and let the reckless abandon of lust take over your body. Your hips become a tool for pleasure, as they gyrate, then move back and forth to bury your length deeper in Sullyoon’s cunt. Then you copy and paste their movements and repeatedly do them with your tongue as well to the point your new girlfriend desperately clings to you. It’s not only the sweat that sticks to you; her entire being keeps you glued down.

You pump, pump, pump into Sullyoon until you notice her eyes rolling back into her head whenever you hit that spot. The sweet spot that will eventually make her cum. Good thing that you already blew a load and that all your sensitivity has subsided—it gives you the power that makes you feel like a superhero, a superhuman. You will not stop at anything, you want to make her cum with just your dick and so you have to fuck harder.

“Oh God, you’re so big, so fucking big and perfect,” Sullyoon moans. As a thank you, you place a hickey somewhere on her neck. In hindsight, a bad idea. All your classmates will see it, unless she wears turtlenecks from now on. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, you’re so good.”

“Your pussy, Sully, it’s, it’s so tight. You’re choking me.”

“Spread me open more then, fuck, fuck, I want you to make me full.”

Hidden from the world, you place a hand on Sullyoon’s abdomen. Not to touch that tummy that alone can make boys fall instantly, though it feels nice to rub your fingers across it—no, your goal is further down, right above where your cock pounds into that wet cunt. Talk about wet, Sullyoon’s juices have spread everywhere, Minju will smell her friend in this room for days to come.

And talk about Minju: she has just returned, a huge bottle of water in her hand and eyes wide open. There is no shock at the sight of Sullyoon moaning and bending under the never ending attack of your hands, tongue and of course cock. Minju is more fascinated than anything else, you know she could watch for hours if only you didn’t notice her.

“Oh, hey,” you gasp in between groans, but your greeting is cut short by Sullyoon’s deafening scream.

“Minju, Minju, oh fuck, you have to try this. He is so good~

“Yes! My clit, right there! Oh my God, I’m going to cum, you make me c-cum!”

Sullyoon pulsates throughout her pussy, her arms, her fingers. Those pointy nails of hers dig painful bruises in your back while your blurry gaze tries to make out her face in haze, but all you see is the shape of her mouth being agape. She’s suddenly so quiet, except for her pussy, which tries to start your own orgasm. You won’t give it to her, not when Minju stands there, her stocking-clad thighs rubbing together, visibly stained with her nectar.

“You guys…” she whispers and watches closely as you pull out of Sullyoon and wipe away some beads of sweat that have formed on your temple. You’re not a construction worker, but your work was hard and it paid off: Sullyoon could not be closer to heaven above the clouds, no skyscraper or airplane can take her there.

“Can I have some of that?” you weakly ask and point at the water bottle. You’re quick to squeeze out a huge portion when Minju hands you the plastic container. From the corner of your eye you see Sullyoon, back from her crazy trip and you offer her some of the water. She rejects and suddenly, full of energy, jumps up and behind Minju.

“Minju, you have to try it.” Minju shrieks when Sullyoon places her hands on the hourglass body. “He feels amazing, I know you will love it.” All her fingers carelessly drift down to where Minju’s full thighs spill out of hr black thigh-highs.

“B-but didn’t he, like, fi-finish in you? He must be exhausted.” Minju’s excuse is met with a scoff from Sullyoon.

“Look at that thing.” Sullyoon points in between your legs. That’s right, you’re still solid and throbbing, aching to go for more. “He is a stud, he can go forever. He will make you cum on your first time, Minju~”

“I-I don’t know.”

“You don’t have to listen to her,” you tell Minju and take another sip from the bottle. “We can do something else if you don’t feel ready yet.”

Your words might be honest, but Minju does not get a fair chance to consider this other option. In front of her sits her crush, a guy with a big, super tasty cock. Behind her is a friend, mind controlled by lust, eager to share this big, super tasty cock. The sight of you teases her, Sullyoon’s hands on her hips, butt, crotch tease her. Can she really go for it now? Make this crazy night become nothing but madness, a story worth telling but no one will ever hear it?

“I want… you inside of me.”

“Perf—”

“I want you to cum inside of me!”

You gulp, thoughts tripping over each other. Even Sullyoon is perplexed and frozen. “R-really?” you both ask the still-virgin girl.

“No, like, in-in a condom of course! I just want to know… that my pussy felt good for you, that I can make you cum. I don’t want to get pregnant yet of course—oh God, did you think that?”

“Well…”

“Doesn’t matter!” Sullyoon suddenly laughs this chaotic misunderstanding off and pushes Minju on your lap. “Here, Minju, put a new condom on his cock. We don’t do creampies, but I totally get what you want.”

“I’m so sorry, that was a stupid thing to say,” Minju apologizes awkwardly, but you quickly forget about it when she expertly puts the rubber on your tip and has your entire phallus covered in no time. Her dainty fingers feel fantastic on your base, which she holds steady, awaiting you to do something with it. You can’t make up your mind however: should you pick her up and throw her into the sheets to fuck her like Sullyoon? Maybe spin her around and fuck her doggy, ass up, that beautiful face buried in pillows as you burry yourself inside her for the first time?

Sullyoon helps you come up with a third solution. She grabs your wrists and firmly puts them on Minju’s tiny waist and instinctively, you lift her up and over your cock. Minju looks down at your manhood and mewls, ready yet not ready to take it. Her starlit eyes, a few centimeters away, look down into yours and you swear you don’t want to hurt. You have to do everything to make this the best thing for her.

Give Minju a firm kiss on her trembling lips as both you and Sullyoon gently place her entrance on your spear. At first, she is scared, her body tensing up, but with your warmth radiating on her warm folds, she suddenly seems eager. More and more inches disappear into her and you leave her lips to hear her ultimate moan when her virginity disappears.

“Ouh, so big, so much, ahhh!”

“Does it hurt?” you ask her.

“A-a bit, but it’s fine—Sullyoon, what are you doing!? Don’t look at it!”

Sullyoon kneels between your legs. When she breathes out through her nose, your balls feel her hot and horny breath. She completely ignores Minju’s words and stares at how you leave and re-enter Minju’s pussy. “Minju, this… this is the best sight! Trust me, it feels good when he goes faster. Your pussy will feel so good.”

“This is embarrassing,” Minju mewls again, her hips firmly pushed down on your lap, almost the entirety of your cock inside her. You might not feel powerless in this position, not at all in fact, but you want this absolute beauty of a woman to do how she likes it. If she just wants to sit on you and slowly move her lower body in circles, that’s fine, if she wants to ride you with heavy thrusts, that would be to die for—

But Minju unexpectedly picks a third option. Seriously, these girls are full of surprises. She puts her hands on your shoulders while yours instinctively hover down to her hips and then she tightens around your cock again before moving up and down, up and down, up and down with perfect body control, at the same pace.

Minju rides you, fucks you, like she has done it a thousand times. You can hardly believe she never had a toy inside her. Every breath becomes more chaotic, her features disheveled, her tongue numb. It hangs out of her mouth, a perfectly ripe weak spot for you to attack. You suck on it, bully it in your mouth and Minju grabs your throat, accidentally choking you. No, no, she has to keep doing that. She has to suffocate you, with her pussy, with her fingers, with her stunning visuals as she fucks herself silly.

“Sullyoon, fuck,” you both simultaneously curse when the forgotten girl starts to lick all the way from your perineum over to your cock and Minju’s folds to Minju’s butthole, then back down, as if it were the longest, tastiest lollipop. She is not irritated by all the sweat, the lewd juices and Minju’s ass bouncing on your dick—Sullyoon laps it all up and even giggles when she hears both of you struggle with the added pleasure.

Minju gradually loses speed, which is of course not bad, after all, her cunt still tries to suck your Sullyoon-kissed balls dry, but you notice how completely out of breath and overstimulated she seems. With unfocused puppy eyes she tries to apologize for her lack of stamina, but instead of lamenting, you find a quick solution—a solution that sends Minju straight into her first ever crazy orgasm.

Hock your arms underneath her legs, securely hold her and stand up. Sullyoon gasps in surprise, her tongue still in Minju’s ass, which suddenly shakes when you start to fuck. Minju screams in bliss, covers your crotch in girl cum as you lose your grip on reality but never your grip on her hips. Minju can barely hold onto your nape as you pound her and send orgasm after orgasm into her.

“Ahhh, oh my God, it’s, it’s coming again!”

She deserves so many more so you steady your feet and thrust upwards harder, faster, gape her cunt wide open, all for Sullyoon to see. She remembers that you speared her open in a similar way, your cock hard and reckless. She starts to touch herself while sucking on whatever part of your base isn’t currently inside Minju. In the meantime, Minju’s stockings burn themselves in your memory. She always has to wear them, they look so hot, seductive, like they were made to cover her legs.

“So big, too much, too much, I—”

Minju explodes again. This time her ability to speak is replaced by mindless moans, which sound a bit silly through her constantly cracking voice. You look down and admire the ripple of her thighs, the way her small tits bounce up and down. Her hot cunt feels ready for a load, a load it will not directly receive unfortunately.

Unfortunately? No, it’s good! You can’t risk getting Minju pregnant, that would be insane.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you groan.

“Let me help you~” Sullyoon’s lewd voice and even lewder lips push you over the edge as she puts your balls in her mouth and sucks on them loudly. The added pressure makes you unload into the condom, testing its durability. Luckily it passes the test and Minju still gets to have that feeling of hotness inside her.

She smiles weakly, but cannot really react. Her body goes limp in your arms as you slip out of her wide open hole. You carefully drop her onto the bed, a bed that you definitely need too now. Soft sheets to finally rest in after this night of projects and—other projects so to say.

“Fuck that was insane. What’s going to happen now?” you ask no one in particular. Minju is already gone, deep in a dream.

“What do you think?” Sullyoon suddenly says and lays next to you in bed, her fingers pulling away the condom. When she sees the ridiculous amount of cum still covering your dick, she is quick to clean it up with her tongue. It seems that she is just as addicted to your taste as Minju.

“Fuck, Sully—”

“We have to do this every week.”

“Wh-what?”

“Aren’t we your girlfriends now? Don’t you want this—

“To happen again~?”

Yes, they are your girlfriends now—and yes: you have fallen for them.

Who could blame you?

#kpop smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #male reader insert #izone smut #male reader #male reader smut #minju smut #sullyoon smut #nmixx smut #happy minju day #kim minju smut

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acourtofwhatthefuck · 5 months

Text

Practice On Me — Finale — Azriel x Reader

Summary: The grand Illyrian ball is here. Reader is more than ready to return to Windhaven and Azriel, but daddy Fin throws a huge spanner in the works. Life as they know it is about to change.

Note — I’ve tried to tag everyone who’s asked but there are some people that it simply won’t let me tag 🥲

Word Count: 10.6k (oop, sorry 😅)

Warnings: There’s a looot to unpack here. Depictions of violence and gore. Some light smut. 18+!

This place is cold and unforgiving.

The air in your lungs is constricted before you’ve even stepped through the giant gates. They call it the Hewn City due to its entirety being hewn from cold, hard rock.

But you get the feeling these walls are more than that. You can feel the horror in the cracks, the loneliness that screams behind its surface.

You don’t know how Mor has survived so long here. You’re already itching to get out.

A warm hand splays across your back, and you turn to face Fin. It’s not the first time he drinks you in so hungrily, but you could be forgiven for thinking so, by the way his eyes heat all over again. He glances quickly at your lips, and in this empty meeting room that he’s stolen you away to, you’re not at all sure that he isn’t bold enough to act on that hunger.

“Focus, High Lord.” You murmur, brushing the lapel of his tailored jacket. “You’ve an audience waiting for you.”

Somewhat of an infantile groan leaves him — one you’re not sure he’d share with many others. He dips down and allows his forehead to drop against your shoulder, slowly breathing in your scent.

“And if I said fuck the audience,” he murmurs, “and decided to stay here to dip under this gown and ravish you? What then?”

“Then I wager your subjects would be mighty displeased that you brought them here for nothing.”

“I could make you moan,” his nose nudges your neck, “loud enough to give them a show.”

“Later.” You promise falsely, and the lie is sour on your tongue. You step back and straighten yourself out. “You have a duty to attend to.”

The way his eyes sweep you tells you that you are the only duty he wishes to attend to. But he relents with a sigh and inclines his head.

“I do.” He admits. “And I will have to play my role out there. I’ll be mostly unavailable for the duration of this ball, so…I want you to go and have fun. Just don’t stray too far. I’ve organised the evening’s entertainment with you in mind, and I want you by my side when you see it.”

For a beat, you can only blink at him. You’re…touched, that he would do that for you. And your mind immediately starts swirling with possibilities of what that entertainment might be. Perhaps a show of professional dancers or a theatrical performance.

You study him, attempting to glean information merely from the expression on that granite-hewn face. “It’s Starfall.” You remind him. “Is that not the evening’s entertainment?”

He merely smiles. “I’ll send for you when it’s time.” He leans down, coasting his lips over one cheek and then the other. “Enjoy yourself.”

Without another word, he turns. Rolls his shoulders and slips into his High Lord roll. But before he can take a step towards the door, you're grabbing his hand.

“Fin—” You blurt, and he stops. You swallow as you stare up at him. “Just…please don’t let Tathaln Baralas ruin the camps.”

His gaze searches your face. You can’t get a read on his expression.

But then the corners of his lips curve up, and he’s squeezing your hand.

“I won’t let Tathaln become a problem.” He says, and then repeats, “enjoy yourself.”

The way he prises his hand from yours has an air of finality that stops you from pushing any further. You want to ask — beg, if you have to — for his reassurance. But he strides to the door, sleek black shoes clipping against the marble floor.

And left alone, you think you may have done all you possibly can do. That the rest is out of your hands.

So you attempt to shake off your relentless anxiety, and you go to find your friends.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Weaving through the mammoth structure and the sea of Illyrians that fill it, you’ve already witnessed three fights and two couples damn near fucking in nothing more hidden than the alcoves carved into the walls. Pretty tame for your people, but alas, the night is young.

There are so many pairs of wings. There is such a thick air of arrogance and ego and brutishness. You’re not quite sure where you fit in here, but before you can find a refreshment that will dull that feeling, strong arms are wrapping around your waist and yanking you backwards.

You scream, and no one around you bats an eyelash. You thrash and buck, but the attempt is met with—

Deep, smooth laughter that you know so, so well.

You relax in the offender’s hold immediately, and their arms loosen enough for you to twist in them.

You glare up at Cassian and send a punch to his bicep. “Asshole.”

“Ow!” He chokes on another laugh, and then he’s grinning brilliantly, white teeth gleaming in the fae light. “Hello, Sweetpea. I’ve missed you.”

Fuck, you’ve missed him too. And that’s all it takes for you to throw your arms around him and squeeze.

He smells like Cass. That rugged scent of his that is such a comfort. And the way he hugs you back, firm yet gentle, warm and loving and present, tells you that any previous anger he had towards you is a thing of the past.

“Windhaven is fucking boring without you.” He pulls back, holding you at arms length — and blinks. “Holy gods, look at you.”

“Look at you.” Your eyes rove over him, from his tailored, maroon-coloured suit to his brushed, slicked-back hair. His wings are squeaky clean and flared proudly. He’s stunning. Breathtaking.

He cracks another Cassian grin. “Who knew we could brush up so well, hey, Sweetpea? You’re absolutely gorgeous. I’ll be the envy of all these Illyrian males, knowing I fucked you—”

“Cassian.” You land another hit to his bicep. “Don’t ruin the moment.”

“Sorry, sorry. I’ve actually been sent to collect you. A certain someone is waiting for you on a patio. I’ll give you a clue — he, too, has fucked you—”

With a roll of your eyes, albeit a fond one, you’re breezing past him with a feeling of…need. To see Azriel. To have him ground you in a place and circumstance of such unfamiliarity. You need that comfort.

Cass follows promptly, slinging an arm around your shoulder — not just because he’s missed you, but because the leering eyes of hundreds of Illyrian males follow your every step. Those gazes seem to drink in your dress bead by little bead. They’re hungry for sex and for violence.

“Out here.” Your friend steers you down a hallway, untouched by not only guests, but also the horrific brilliance of the rest of this place. This is an area that most aren’t supposed to see, with chipped concrete floors and peeling walls. It’s so cold, so ugly and uninviting, that you can’t imagine why Azriel would summon you here, of all places.

But then a door appears at the end of the winding hall, open just enough for a sliver of moonlight to touch the threshold. The fresh air has goosebumps spreading over your skin.

“He wanted some private time with you. Rhys and I said we’d keep watch.” Cass studies you and huffs a deep, dramatic sigh. “I’m trying really hard not to feel left out right now.”

“I’m sure you don’t really want to be the third wheel—”

“Sure I do. I’ve told Az that he wouldn’t even know I’m there, but no, he wants you all to himself. Selfish bastard.” He reaches out, pulling the door open wider for you. And then he calls, “I hope you heard that, fucker!”

Strong footsteps emerge from argent moonlight, and Azriel’s voice is a lilting shiver across your skin. “You know I heard it, you idiot.” He says. “You…”

His words trail off as he takes you in, and suddenly you don’t know what to do with your hands, your face, with any part of you.

His stare holds the weight of a very ancient love, so much older than the both of you. It somehow translates that you had his heart in a previous life, when you were different people entirely, and you’ll still have it in the next, when your souls begin anew.

He swallows, loud enough that you all hear it. And his voice is husky as he says, “There are no words worthy of you.”

And you’re hit with a strange urge to cry. Mostly because you feel exactly the same way about him.

He is…exquisite. He’s slicked his hair back, and that alone is a huge thing for him — to openly show each and every curve and line of his face, with no strands to hide behind. The curtain of his thick, dark lashes only accentuates the honey of his eyes and the gold of his skin.

And the suit he’s donned for the evening — that same maroon colour that Cass is wearing. You wonder if Rhys, wherever he is, is wearing the same. Whether the trio look as breathtaking together as you expect them to.

“No words.” Az repeats, shaking his head. “The Mother herself must have sent you to me.”

Cassian smirks and rests an elbow atop of your head, regardless of your perfected hair. “I said the same.”

You quirk an eyebrow. “No, you didn’t.”

“Well, I said something similar.”

“It wasn’t even close to that.”

“Be grateful of my winning charm—”

“Cassian.” Az cuts him off. “Why don’t you go and find Rhys?”

Cass lets out an infantile whine. “But he’s having private time with Zakai.”

“And I’d like to have some private time with Y/N, so. Run along.”

Your friend offers a great, dramatic huff that makes you grin, but he removes his arm from your head and turns.

“This whole coupling up thing is boring!” He calls, retreating down the hall.

And then it’s just you and Azriel.

Your love. Your heart.

You turn back to him with a coy smile, reaching up to fix your hair.

“Let me.” Az murmurs, and he steps closer, his fingers sinking into the strands of your hair. Up close, you drink him down even more, greedy and insatiable. You want to know every expression, every thought.

“There are no words worthy of you, either.” You whisper, and his eyes drop down from your hair to meet yours. “You’re a vision, Az.”

He studies you for a moment. And though his hands leave the strands, they lower only to cup your face. His thumb strokes your cheek.

“What I am,” he murmurs, “is yours.”

Your eyes shutter, and you drop your forehead against his. Every last bit of trouble and turmoil you’ve experienced has been worth it to hear those words. You want them to mark your skin.

You push up onto the tips of your toes, slanting your mouth over Azriel’s. He wastes no time in sliding his hands to your waist and hauling you close to him.

You kiss him like doing so here isn’t risky. Like you have the freedom to kiss him whenever and however you both want, and there are no outer forces getting in the way. You long for the day when that will be the case. When you can love, and love proudly.

Perhaps that luxury isn’t too far out of reach.

Az seems to think so, too, as he pulls away just enough to rest his forehead against yours once more, and he says, breathlessly, “Things are going to change — after tonight. I can feel it.”

You study him, searching for deeper meaning. And as though they can sense your anxiety, his shadows snake around your ankles in a soothing caress. “A good change, I hope.”

“Whatever it is, we’ll face it together. Me and you. I’m yours.”

You peck him once, twice. “And I am yours.”

Those words alone are enough to make heat blaze in his eyes. With adoration making way for passion, lust, he allows his gaze to rake over you, and he swipes his tongue over his bottom lip.

“So fucking gorgeous.” His voice is guttural. “If we didn’t have to attend this ball right now, I would—”

The door flies open behind you, and Az looks more than ready to throttle Cassian as he prances back into sight and announces, “Found Rhys!”

“And we brought booze.” Rhys swiftly follows with a smirk. “Raided personally, by me, from my asshole father’s stash.”

Sure enough, his suit matches the other two. And seeing the three of them together like that, looking so beautiful, so proper, so…matured—

A lump forms in your throat that you force down. You furiously blink away the tears that sting your eyes.

Because it hits you, just then, how much you’ve missed this — the four of you, just being together, like old times. You were always such a strong unit, always driven by your love for one another, and the dysfunctional, unconventional, beautiful family you became. It’s been a long while since you looked upon these three males without burdening thoughts always remaining a step away. You miss the ease. You miss the love.

But here it is, right in front of you, just like it always will be. And in that moment, nothing else matters but your little unit. Just you, Azriel, Cassian and Rhysand.

As you shake out of your thoughts, you realise Rhys is staring at you just as intensely. Strong emotion swims in his eyes.

“…What?” You ask, smoothing your hands over your dress.

“You just…look incredible.” He smiles softly. “Every single star that soars above our heads tonight will have nothing on you.”

Just as you think you’re about to get choked up all over again, Cassian smirks and declares, “I said the same.”

You scowl, reaching out to swat him. “No, you did not. Just accept you’re bad at compliments and move on.”

“I’m a master at compliments, thank you very much.”

Az slides an arm around your waist and quirks an eyebrow. “You took Sacha for a drink and complimented her by saying you look like you bathed. You’re hardly a poet, Cass.”

It’s Cassian’s turn to scowl then. “Well, what I may lack in poetry, I make up for in the bedroom. As Y/N clearly knows.”

A snarl rips from Azriel’s throat. “Watch yourself.”

Rhys rolls his eyes and smacks Cassian upside the head. “Don’t wind him up, dickhead.”

“Who are you calling dickhead?”

“I’m calling you dickhead, dickhead.”

The bickering becomes background noise as you prise the bottle from Rhys’s hand and take a generous swig — none of which he even notices, as he and Cass continue taking swipes at each other.

And as the liquid burns your throat, you meet Azriel’s gaze. Both of you grin. He takes the bottle from you.

In that moment, all you feel is happiness. Beautiful familiarity. Rhys and Cassian tearing chunks out of each other while you and Azriel watch and laugh from the sidelines. It makes your heart feel heavy with such warmth that it may just burst.

You do not need lavishness or luxury. Your life is nothing special, but you do not want for anything.

Just this. Only this.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

“Who knew so many Illyrians could dance?”

Rhysand��s steps are swift and flawless. It’s situations like these — ones of strict propriety and, dare you say, class — that you’re reminded he’s only half-Illyrian. The other males around you may be trying their hand at dancing, but Rhys flows through each number with barely a thought.

You smile up at him, secure in his hold. A dance floor full of Illyrians is a temperamental and, quite frankly, stupid idea. Anyone who gets too close to another’s wings is asking for a punch. Or five.

But so far, it’s been surprisingly uneventful. And you might even begin to relax and enjoy yourself — if not for the images you keep glimpsing in your periphery.

Every now and then, a flash of bright red will pass you by as Kaeda is spun from one set of burly arms to another. Her dress is the same shade as her hair. It’s alarming. Makes you think of blood.

And even more alarming, perhaps, is the pair of eyes that follow you from the dais. Fin spares only cursory glances to the rest of his guests, from where he sits on his throne in pensive silence, but his eyes linger heavily on you. Hungry, flaming eyes that follow your every move. And standing at his side — Tathaln Baralas.

The Lord of Fenlaros is even bigger than you remember. In a tailored suit, he looks…all wrong. That kind of finery will never work with him. He’s rugged, and cold, and something tells you that while Fenlaros is considerably more civilised than the majority of Illyrian camps, Tathaln Baralas feels most at home with the bare necessities. Luxury is nothing but a fly buzzing in his ear.

But he will tolerate that fly, you know — can tell, precisely from the way his dark, frightening eyes watch the room with more intensity than any single person should harbour. And that intensity is directed solely at one person. Azriel.

Tathaln watches the shadowsinger as though he’s weighing up whether he can kidnap him from this event and force him to Fenlaros. It makes your stomach turn.

“You seem on edge tonight.” Rhys’s deep gaze studies you. His hand presses firmer against the small of your back. “I won’t let anything happen to you, don’t worry.”

You’re not sure if he’s referring to his father, or to Kaeda, or to her father. Or even just to the evening in general. But you squeeze his hand, all the same.

“You’re the best.” You tell him. “And you should be dancing with Zakai.”

His eyes glimmer with his signature charm. “Oh, I will. But I always intended to save the first dance for my best girl.”

The sentiment is so…Rhysand, so comforting, that you almost — almost — start to think that everything will be alright.

But he spins you under his arm, and it’s like being spun straight back into reality. Because as you turn, that gaze from up on the dais meets yours again.

And this time, it’s not just hungry — but possessive.

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You dance and dance until your feet feel like they might fall off. Although, you’re not sure how much of that can be attributed to Cassian stepping on them throughout his uncoordinated prancing.

But the more the night wears on, the more your stomach churns with deep, unrelenting anxiety. You feel sick. Like a shadow of doom is looming over your shoulder and waiting to pull you into its thrall. By the time Cassian hands you over to Azriel, you’re not entirely sure that you won’t be sick.

Az studies your face with clear concern on his own — concern that doesn’t make his steps falter. He’s a natural dancer, taught and honed by Roza. Almost as good as Rhys. He moves as swift as flying, but his expression doesn’t hold the same ease.

“What is it?” He asks, and his thumb sweeps a stroke over your hip. “You don’t look well.”

So badly, you want to lean into his touch. But…not now — not with Fin watching. You dare a quick glance at the dais, and sure enough, his eyes stalk you. They follow everywhere Azriel touches your body. Strangely, the hunger in them intensifies. The hickory shade of them has darkened until it’s almost a stark black. He licks his lips and watches Azriel’s fingers caress you through your dress.

“I’m just…ready for this night to be over. You know all this luxury isn’t my thing.”

His hands press firmer against your skin. “I must say, as much as I’m loving this dress, I’m equally excited to rip it off—”

“May I?”

Two seconds. You look away for two seconds, and Fin is suddenly off the dais and behind you. The guests around you all watch with curious eyes.

Azriel pauses, his lingering touch letting you know just how reluctant he is to let you go.

But ultimately, he is wise. And ultimately, he concedes.

“Of course, High Lord.” He inclines his head. “She’s your special guest, after all.”

“Yes.” Fin’s eyes don’t stray from you. “She is.”

You know it’s deliberate — the way he makes sure everyone is watching as he scoops you into his arms with a small lift off the ground. And then he begins dancing, and everyone else resumes.

As you follow his steps, you allow yourself the chance to look at him. Look at him, and wonder if he’ll hate you after all this is over. You…you don’t want him to hate you. That complicates things, but gods above, it’s true.

He swipes his tongue over his bottom lip, and you may as well be the only two people in the room as he murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear, “When you look at me like that, Y/N, it makes me think I’m not such a bad male as most would think.”

“You’re not.” You respond almost immediately, and you mean it. “I think it’d surprise you to know how highly you’re regarded. Everyone in this room who is looking upon you—”

You yelp as he suddenly dips you, his lips at your ear.

“Everyone in this room,” he says, “is looking at you. And rightfully so. You’re a masterpiece — my masterpiece.”

The compliment — the possessiveness — all seems extreme. But then, you think everything about Fin might be a bit extreme. He doesn’t do anything by halves. The blush that dusts your cheeks seems to please him.

“You like it, don’t you?” His voice is like gravel. “That not a single male in here can take their eyes off you. You are the envy of every female. Stripped of wings, but not of raw, natural beauty.”

He straightens you out before you can reply, and your head spins — with the sudden movement, and with the whiplash of the comment. It both pleases you and reminds you how exposed your back is — the trauma that everyone can see.

“Charming as ever.” You swallow, hope the smile on your face is convincing. “I don’t quite know what to say.”

“Words are not necessary — not tonight.” The song you’re dancing to fades to an end, and he steadies you gently on your feet. His gaze sweeps you again, and he remarks, “The stars will begin their journeys soon.”

In the strange headiness of the evening, you almost forgot that this is, essentially, two events wrapped up in one. Starfall, and Fin’s lavish ball. Perhaps seeing those stars will bring you some semblance of peace — make you feel less lost than you do right now, as they travel somewhere unbeknownst to you, and perhaps unbeknownst to themselves, also.

“Will you be joining us outside to watch them?” You ask.

A strange smile curves his lips. “Indeed I will. It’s a magnificent sight to behold.” He steps back, bowing to press a kiss to the backs of your fingers. And then he straightens up. Retreats.

“However,” he says, “I do believe the entertainment I’ve arranged for you may just outshine those stars this year.”

He saunters away, back to his dais. And as he lowers himself into his throne, he meets your gaze.

That same old thirst in them is unquenchable.

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The males are treating the stardust like it’s the snow that so often coats your respective camps.

The first specks of it showering down on you were surprising, beautiful. But in true Illyrian fashion, what started as a cordial gathering to observe the soaring, luminous beings, has been reduced to little more than a drunken bust up.

You don’t know which camp launched the first clump of glimmering dust at another, but that was all it took for chaos to break out. The fray jostles you away from your friends until you can no longer feel Azriel pressed to your side or hear Cassian’s constant chattering. Try as you might to locate them, it’s impossible to see past giant, burly males with alarming wingspans. It’s a sea of dark hair and tan skin.

You push and push your way through, looking for a small exit through the gathered bodies. Your gown is trampled on, and you’re shoved this way and that, taking a few handfuls of stardust to your face and neck and arms. The feel of it is a cold contrast against your hot skin.

Just as you spot an opening to squeeze through, a male is careening into you and taking you down with him. It stuns you so much that you forget to brace yourself for impact. You’re about to tear your skin open against the sharp ground—

But huge, warm hands from behind catch you beneath your arms and keep you upright. Set you on your feet.

You turn, smacking straight into a broad expanse of chest. And a little higher up — long hair and wicked eyes. A taunting grin. Too-sharp teeth.

Tathaln Baralas seems to command the area around him so much that the fighting moves away from you both. A fact that makes him so incredibly smug.

“You’re welcome.” He sounds as rough and rugged as the mountain rock.

You clear your throat and incline your head in reluctant thanks. You’re not too keen on the idea of lingering for a chat with him.

But before you can so much as turn, his hand is fastening around your wrist. It’s not a tight grip, and yet it’s a warning — that it could become tighter if you tried to move.

“I’d like to go and find my friends—”

“I’ve been wracking my brain trying to work out why the High Lord is so taken by you.” He angles his head, and his eyes travel down, a smirk toying with his lips. “Besides a magnificent pair of tits, of course.”

Gritting your teeth, you attempt to rip your arm away. “You do him a disservice by thinking him so shallow—”

“Does Rhysand know you’re fucking his father?”

“You’re mistaken, my lord, and I’ll thank you to let go of me.”

“My daughter’s warning was clearly of no use. Perhaps I’ll be able to drive the message in harder. Whatever you’re planning—”

“There you are.” Out of seemingly nowhere, Rhysand’s voice saves the day. “I’ve been looking for you.”

The most minuscule, tiny beat passes — but Tathaln Baralas is no damn fool. With such blatant reluctance, he lets go of your wrist and takes a step back.

Rhys presses himself against your side, slinging an arm around your shoulders. He stares at Tathaln as he says, “My father wants everybody rounded up. It’s time for the entertainment he has planned.”

It’s a cloaked order, and you can see how much the Lord of Fenlaros wants to grit his teeth against it. But again — no damn fool.

“I’ll help gather everyone up.” He relents, and then he turns and pushes through fighting males as though they’re not there.

Rhys turns to you, concerned eyes taking you in. “Are you alright?”

“I will be.” You respond vaguely, linking your arm with his. “When this is all over, I will be.”

Little does he know, it’s not only the ball that you’re referring to.

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Like petulant children, the bustling males don’t want to go back under the mountain for the remainder of the ball. They want to stay outside and frolic in the fallen stardust and maybe fight or fuck in it, too.

But somehow, Fin commands their return. And the silence with which they now all stare up at the dais has you wondering if there’s anybody he can’t get to obey him.

Roza, probably. The thought brings a smile to your face.

Gods, you’d love to be with Roza right now, Spending quiet, quality time together. Blocking out the world in its entirety. You’re glad, so heavily pregnant as she is, that she’s not here tonight — but still, you can’t help wishing she was—

A loud clap sounds through the room, jolting you from your thoughts. You force your eyes into focus once more, and though you’re buried a few rows back, Fin finds your gaze immediately. He smiles.

“I wanted to thank each and every one of you for coming here tonight.” He addresses the room. “I understand that Illyrians have a way of life that you like to keep loyal to, and that integrating with other camps is not normally a done thing. I appreciate you keeping your minds open and straying from your traditions to honour this event.”

The crowd stirs and murmurs, and every person packed within it must be wondering why Tathaln Baralas is the only camp lord up on that dais with the High Lord while the others all congregate on the floor, common as muck. They are not privy to the things that you are. You have a horrible feeling that that is all about to change.

“While there have been a few…hiccups, this evening, I have mostly been impressed by how well you were able to interact.” Fin goes on. “That is exactly what this little experiment was intended for. Because that’s what this ball was — an experiment. I address each and every Illyrian when I say this: change is coming.”

No.

Your stomach bottoms out. Hands turn clammy in an instant.

Surely…surely he hasn’t just ignored everything you’ve said. Surely this hasn’t all been for nothing.

“You may recognise the male behind me.” He’s not looking at you now. His eyes skim the room, but they don’t stray in your direction. “Tathaln Baralas — Lord of the Fenlaros camp.”

At that, a small burst of cheers breaks out from one section of the room. Fenlarions, you can only assume. You’re too panicked to care.

Tathaln takes a step forward, not quite in line with Fin, but almost. He seems to be fighting back a smirk. And as you feel another heavy set of eyes on you, you look to your left — to a few steps down, where Kaeda stands. She eyes you with what must be triumph in her eyes, and she doesn’t bother to hide her smirk.

This…this has all gone very, very wrong. You’ve fucked up — failed. Perhaps even doomed the lives of countless people. Fin may have poured sweet sentiments into your ear and boosted your confidence, but you so clearly weren’t enough. Weren’t enough to appeal yourself to him, and weren’t enough to save Illyria as you know it.

You’re not at all certain that you aren’t going to faint. Whatever is about to be said or done, you don’t want to be here for it. You want to gather up Azriel and Cassian and Rhys and get the fuck out of there, far away from this, from him. You look frantically around for them, but you’ve lost them again. Can’t even glimpse the backs of their heads.

“A short while ago, the Lord of Fenlaros came to me with a suggestion. A proposition.” Fin slides his hands into his pockets; a strangely arrogant gesture that tells you just how at ease he is. “But before I tell you all about that, I would like to speak to you about somebody else. Another one of your own who I have recently had the delight of spending my time with. Getting to know.”

It takes a delayed moment for you to realise he’s staring at you once more.

Staring firmly, unflinchingly at you.

He extends a hand in your direction, and everybody — every single fucking person around you — turns to get a look, also.

“Sweet Y/N,” He cocks his head. Smiles. “Would you join me up here, please?”

You falter on the spot, forgetting entirely how to move. Every pair of eyes…the attention…it’s all too much. Everyone is looking at you. Everyone can see you, your scars.

“Y/N.” Fin repeats. “This is for you, after all.”

Someone shoves you in the back, and snickers titter around you, the sounds swimming from one ear to the other. On shaking legs, you slip between bodies. Bodies with faces attached that won’t stop looking at you, staring at you, wondering why you, of all people, have caught the High Lord’s attention. A lowly Illyrian female without any wings.

Numb from head to toe, you climb up onto the dais. Fin takes your trembling hand. Pulls you to his side.

Only then do you find Azriel, Cassian and Rhys in the crowd. All staring up at you with alarmed, horrified expressions. They can sense something very terrible is about to go down, too.

“For all of you who haven’t had the pleasure of meeting her — this is Y/N.” Fin speaks loudly, clearly, his tone clipped. “She hails from the Windhaven camp. She is Illyrian in her own right. She has a brain wise beyond her twenty years, and a heart of solid gold. She cares for Illyrians — for all of you. Cares for your futures.” A very, very potent pause. His expression changes — darkens. He purses his lips. “But you all do not care for her, do you?”

Silence. Nobody knows where this is going. There’s a slight movement in the crowd, and out of the corner of your eye, you see your friends pushing closer to the front.

“You cannot claim to care about her — about your own females — when you are willing to do this.”

So quickly, Fin’s hands are gripping your arms, and he’s wrenching you around on the spot. Forcing your back to them. Forcing them to swallow down the sight of your ruined back.

But your scars poking through the sheer fabric is not enough for him, it would seem. Those hands of his, gentle at times and dangerous at others, skate over your shoulders. Stop at the top of your back, where you hate so profoundly to be touched.

And he rips the fabric open like he’s cleaving air.

The cold air hits your exposed back, and surprised murmurs ripple through the room. Each and every one of them will have seen clipped wings before — but not this. Not the brutal hacking you were subjected to.

On instinct, you’re fighting against Fin, trying to turn, trying to hide. He holds you steady.

“Her own father did this to her.” He announces. “As so many of you intend to do to your own daughters, no doubt. Look at her. Look at how she suffered, and believe me when I say, again, change is coming.”

“Father.” Rhysand’s voice reaches you from behind, severe, outraged. “Stop this.”

It surprises you that Fin immediately turns you back around. But you are under no illusion that he’s listened to his son’s plea. He simply isn’t finished.

There is not one part of you that isn’t shaking. You stare firmly at your feet, refusing to meet any of the gazes pinned on you. Some may be pitying. Most will be delighted.

“I understand that Y/N may not appreciate what I just did. And rightfully so.” With a theatrical wave of his hand, the rip at the back of your dress is mended. But the damage is already done. “She has a right to those feelings. A thing I believe you Illyrian males do not understand. That your females feel. That they can rightfully be hurt, and they can rightfully want to be avenged. Y/N?”

You know he’s addressing you, asking you to look at him. But you can’t move. You can’t…can’t stop shaking. Can’t stop feeling like you want to throw up.

“Y/N.” He repeats, softer this time. “Look at me please.”

You pause.

And then you do.

You turn, and you look at him with an expression that will never promise forgiveness.

To his credit, he studies your face. It’s like he’s searching for an answer as to whether his little stunt was irredeemable. His eyes swallow your expression, and a moment passes between you. One that doesn’t include everybody else in this room.

You imagine you look hateful. You imagine you are sneering, and clenching your jaw, and allowing him to see that you will not stand for such disrespect from anybody, including him.

And he…he looks upon you like he wants the rest of the room to disappear. Like he wants nothing more than to steal you into his arms and spirit you away, far away from this.

You take a small step back.

“I got you a gift.” He says, too quietly. Extends a hand again.

You feel yourself shaking your head. You cannot speak. But this does not deter him. He retracts his hand and murmurs to somebody — somebody you can’t see around the roaring in your head — “The box, please.”

As blurred movement stirs in front of you, you angle yourself towards the crowd — towards your friends. You search their terrified faces without seeing them, and you know that they are just as powerless as you are. Even Rhysand. That throwing themselves in the mix may just make the situation worse.

And you don’t even know what the situation is. All you know is that your heart is thudding and your ears are screaming. All you know is that you feel…betrayed…by Fin making a spectacle of you like this. That your body and mind are having such violent reactions because your vulnerabilities, insecurities, may just be the evening’s entertainment that you’re supposed to somehow enjoy—

“Y/N.”

Your eyes snap back to the High Lord, and a tear escapes the corner of it. You pretend it doesn’t exist, even if Fin’s gaze tracks it and softens.

“For you.” He holds a box out to you.

For a moment, you weigh up the likelihood that you could just dart off the stage and make a run for it. Find somewhere to hide and cry. But as your hands extend outwards without you telling them to, you know it’s no use. You’re seeing this through, however reluctantly.

Your trembles are violent as you take the box into your hands — and almost drop it. It’s heavier than you’re expecting. Fin smiles.

Every single person in that room watches you slide the lid off the box.

Every single person in that room watches you peer inside — and drop it. Stagger back.

“What the fuck is this?” You choke. “What have you done?!”

There are murmurs, people angling to get a look, as Fin casually strolls over to that box. As he reaches in.

As he lifts your father’s severed head by his hair and holds it up like it’s a fucking show and tell. And grins at it.

Steeled Illyrian warriors who have been bred for violence scatter back, curses and noises rolling off their tongues.

“Allow this to be a lesson to each and every one of you.” Fin speaks loudly, entirely unperturbed by the head dangling from his fingertips. “That while your camps are overseen by your camp lords, I am still your High Lord, and I am always watching, and listening, and waiting to act, if necessary. This male wronged somebody I care for. The only fitting punishment was this.”

Without a care, he drops your father’s head back into the box and kicks it away. You stumble back, back, toppling off the dais. Somebody catches you.

“I am your High Lord.” Fin repeats, seemingly unaware of the panic roiling in his audience. “I do not take kindly to being used or manipulated. I do not take kindly to somebody presuming to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do with my court. And Illyria is part of my court — no matter how much you try to distance yourselves. You are under my jurisdiction. What happens to you is my call to make.”

For a split second, you can only hear certain words; used, manipulated, presuming to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do. You think he’s addressing solely you, but he isn’t.

People are moving around you. Arms wrap around you. It takes a moment for you to register that it’s Azriel. That he’s tucking you between himself and Cassian and Rhys. They’re shielding you.

Fin is now pacing the dais, hands behind his back. “The Lord of Fenlaros spent months concocting –and perfecting — a self-serving scheme that he then presented to me, as though he has the authority to do so.” He stops, turning to Tathaln — a very pale Tathaln. “And while I agree there would be some benefits to what you proposed, your methods have pissed me off. And I don’t like being pissed off.”

Tathaln squares his massive shoulders. Steps forward. “I—”

“What gives you the right to delegate your daughter and sons to rival camps to do your bidding, without bringing your case to me first? I should have been your first port of call. I should have decided how this plan of yours should play out. Yet you schemed behind my back and tried to build power and gain favour in case I disagreed to your plan. So you could then build a cause against me.”

“My Lord, I assure you, that is not—”

“Yes — your Lord.” He reiterates.

And then quick as a flash, he’s drawing a sword.

Quick as a flash, it slices through the air and hacks Tathaln Baralas’s head clean off his neck.

It drops to the dais with a wet-sounding thwack. The rest of his body crumples to the floor.

You can’t breathe, or think, or hear. Can only stare at Tathaln’s open, glazed eyes, peering off into nothing. There are gasps and curses and panic. Hands claw at you. You can’t move.

And then a high-pitched, wailing scream rents the air, like nothing else you’ve ever heard. So loud, it snaps you out of your shock.

You turn, despite the hands that hold you firm and still. Through tear-blurred eyes, you glimpse Kaeda on her knees. Her beautiful face is screwed with despair. She stares at her father’s head, and she wails.

“Change is, indeed, upon us.” Fin says calmly, as though a river of blood is not pooling at his feet. “But it will be dealt by my hands, and my hands only.” He sheathes his blade once more. “This ball is over. You can all leave.”

Sliding his hands into his pockets, he strolls off the dais, tracking blood with each step. He disappears through a door without looking back.

And then chaos is erupting. Kaeda is still screaming. People are scrambling to book it out of there. You turn back to Tathaln’s head. Turn to your father’s, still in that box. You think you might be sick—

“Y/N.” Hands grasp your face tightly. Azriel is staring into your eyes, pleading with you to stare back. “We need to get out of here, okay? We’re getting out of here.”

You open your mouth, and a strangled noise escapes you. “I…I can’t…move.”

“You can. You can. Come.” His arms band around you. And though he holds you strong, you can feel that he’s shaken, too. “We’re leaving before the High Lord comes back. I’m getting you out of here. Hold onto me.”

You have no choice other than to comply. But your grip is as weak as you are. You can’t stop yourself fucking shaking.

You don’t hear the words that Azriel speaks to Cassian and Rhys. All you can hear is Kaeda’s screaming. All you can do is stare over Azriel’s shoulder at your father’s lifeless face. That face didn’t once look upon you with love in twenty years. Now, it certainly never will.

You keep on looking until Azriel spirits you both out of there, and the coppery tang of blood follows you all the way back to Windhaven.

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“Please try to drink some of that.”

Azriel perches before you, his eyes fixed upon the steaming cup between your hands. You can’t remember how long ago he handed it to you, or how long ago you made it back to Roza’s cottage, or how long ago you watched Fin cleave Tathaln’s head from his body.

The fire is roaring, and more than one blanket is draped around you, but you can’t get any warmth to seep into your bones. You shiver from head to toe.

“It’ll warm you up.” Az reaches out, pressing a hand to your cheek. “I added a drop of whiskey to take the edge off.”

“I need more than a drop.” Cassian’s voice comes from behind the sofa, where he’s been pacing pretty much since he entered. “What the fuck was that? Your father is insane, Rhys.”

Rhys hasn’t breathed a word — that you’re aware of, anyway. Just sat in the armchair and stared into space.

But his eyes shutter now, and he murmurs, “I know.”

“Absolutely insane.” Cass repeats. The pacing continues, up and down and up and down. “I didn’t realise you’d gotten so close to him, Y/N.”

As if you need reminding.

Fin had made it clear that in some fucked up way, everything he did tonight was for you. He’d slaughtered two people for you. You’d wanted to stop Tathaln, but not like that…never like that.

A tear rolls down your cheek, and you hear Azriel utter a quiet warning to Cass. Cass stops his pacing.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” He says, softer. “I just…didn’t realise there was so much going on while you were in Velaris.”

“I was trying to help.” You whisper. “I didn’t mean for…I didn’t mean—”

“None of what happened tonight was your fault.” Azriel moves to your side. He pulls you close against him, arms soothingly wrapping around you. “Don’t you dare start thinking that. The High Lord does what he wants.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of. What if he’s coming for me next? I was scheming, too.”

Az growls quietly. “He can try. He won’t get close.”

“My father doesn’t want you dead.” Rhys rests his head back against the chair. He doesn’t open his eyes, and you’re wondering if he’s replaying the picture of bloodshed as much as you are. “If he did, he would have killed you there and then, alongside Kaeda’s father and…yours.”

Cassian spits on the ground. “And may your father never know a shred of peace.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, allowing yourself to slump fully against Az’s body, be supported by it. You’re not sure you can hold yourself up right now.

And it’s not that you disagree with Cass’s statement…you’re just not sure what to feel right now.

You hated your father. Despised him. But—

But that kill was supposed to be yours.

Fin had taken that from you in some fucked up display of…of affection, you supposed. Maybe even of ownership.

“He may not want me dead,” you whisper, “but I don’t think he’s finished with me. He’s surely not going to let me come back to Windhaven as if nothing happened. And what of Roza and the babe? Are they safe with him?”

Rhys gives a slow, meditative shake of his head. He’s exhausted. You’re all exhausted. The smell of blood clings to you. “I checked in with her. Despite what he did, they’re always safe with him. As for everything else…I don’t know what he intends.”

“Change is coming.” Finally, Cassian sits down. “That’s what he said. Over and over again.”

You don’t want change. Not the kind that Fin is probably thinking. You don’t want extravagance or luxury. You just want…this.

This little cottage. Your friends. Your love. Your simple, quiet life.

It feels like it hangs in the balance more than ever.

Eyes open, you’re staring at everything you may just lose. But the second you squeeze them shut, you see such thick, alarming red. Hear the thwack of Tathaln’s head falling. Hear the carnal scream that rips from Kaeda’s throat.

Your heartbeat picks up, and tears prick in your eyes — but Azriel’s arms tighten around you.

“Easy.” He murmurs, pressing a kiss to your head. “I’m right here. All three of us are.”

You know he can’t possibly be as calm as he’s making out. But he’s doing it for you — staying strong for you.

“You should try to sleep, my love.” He murmurs into your hair. “We all should.”

You focus on his warmth, his scent, but the tears keep coming. “I’m not sure I can.”

“Try.” He kisses you again. “For me.”

All you can manage is a relenting nod. And that’s all it takes for him to slide down and pull you with him. He holds you so tightly, as though he’s terrified of letting go. He bundles you against him, wraps a blanket around you both. It can’t be comfortable for him, his wings, but he lays there like it is.

A soft snoring from the armchair tells you that Rhys has already succumbed to exhaustion. You bunch your fingers in the front of Az’s shirt and force your eyes to close, even despite the horrors that await you behind them.

But after a while, you’re aware of the sound of Cassian traipsing to the kitchen. Reaching for the bottle of whiskey that sits mostly drained on the side.

And you realise that in Azriel’s arms, you’d started to drift off, too.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

You wake with a gasping start.

It’s pitch black in the room, besides the dying embers of the fire. Their muted orange glow illuminates the space enough for you to glimpse Rhys, still fast asleep in the chair. Cassian is sprawled out and dozing on the floor.

Any one of you could have stowed away upstairs in the privacy of a bedroom, but…you need each other right now. Each other’s comfort.

You don’t know what the time is; the middle of the night, judging by how dark it is. But there’s a lot of noise and foot traffic that’s carried past the house. You assume it must be Illyrians who have attempted to drown the night’s events in alcohol and are now skulking home.

You try to block it all out. Roll over. But as arms tighten around you and pull you flush against a warm body, you glance up to find Azriel awake, already staring at you.

You stare back.

That’s all you do for a while. Just…stare. Drink each other in. He is so beautiful. So brilliant. Your friend, lover and so much more.

“Hi.” He eventually whispers.

You scan his face. Murmur back, “Hi.”

“You should be sleeping.”

“So should you.”

A small shake of his head. Strands of hair fall from where they were earlier slicked back. The grandeur of the ball seems like eons ago, now.

“I can’t.” He says. “I’m worried about you.”

It’s rare…for him to lay vulnerable thoughts and feelings out like that. You study him again. And you want to reassure him, tell him you’re doing okay — but you’re not. Not right now. And don’t you owe him honesty in return?

“I’m scared.” You admit. Keeping your voice hushed doesn’t stop it from cracking.

Azriel leans down, dropping his forehead against yours. His hand rests at the small of your back, rubbing soothing circles.

After a moment, he asks, “What went on in Velaris?”

You don’t know what to say. It was so easy, in the City of Starlight, to pretend to be someone else. Someone that Fin would desire and eventually trust. So easy to follow a plan unflinchingly.

But back in the frozen grips of Windhaven, you do not feel like that person. You do not know her.

“You said you were scheming.” Az presses. “What went on?”

“I told you…I was trying to convince Fin to reject Tathaln’s idea—”

“Convince him how?”

You swallow. Because you hate the truth. Back in the ordinariness of your Illyrian environment, your behaviour seems so, so bad.

“Did he touch you,” Az breathes.

“No.” You immediately shake your head. “I made him want me. I made him want me so badly that he would trust me and listen to me. I never wanted him to kill for me. And I never wanted him. Every single second I spent there, I just wanted to come back to you—”

His lips fold over yours, and he breathes deep and slow. You waste no time in kissing him back. That kiss is truth, and it’s love.

“Only you, Az.” You whisper as you pull away. “I’ve only ever wanted you.”

But he’s not done with you. His mouth is on yours again, and he promises into it, “I’ve only ever wanted you, too.”

Not merely wanted, but needed. And you need each other now. It doesn’t matter at all that you’re not alone in the room — that Cass and Rhys are sleeping mere footsteps away.

Your hands are on each other, grasping at each other, and your bodies come together. It’s unhurried and quiet. Azriel’s eyes don’t leave yours once, from the second he slides into you and you both gasp onto each other’s mouths.

Every slow thrust is one of love. Every one of them is a promise.

“Whatever happens,” he pants quietly, pleasure straining his voice, “whatever happens, we’ll face it together.”

“Together.” You vow. A tear escapes the corner of your eye, and Azriel leans in to kiss it away.

He holds you as both your climax and his build together. He holds you as you bury into his shoulder to stop you from crying out. He holds you as you clench around his cock and he spills every last drop into you.

And he holds you as you catch your breaths and press your foreheads together, exhaustion beckoning you once more. He’s held you through so much, and he’ll continue to do so to whatever end.

Only when your eyelids are threatening to close does he brush his mouth against yours once more. And he says again, “We’ll face it together.”

There’s a stirring behind you. Cassian rolls over. Croaks out, “Can you quit fucking?”

And then he snores and he’s back to sleep, the fire warming his wings.

You and Az stare at each other and pause. And despite it all — everything that’s happened tonight — you both break into laughter. It vibrates through his chest and into you, the feeling pleasant, reassuring.

He kisses your forehead, a smile still ghosting his lips.

It stays there as he drifts to sleep.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

“What the fuck is that?”

Your groggy eyes wrench open and squint at the weak daylight that filters through the cottage. Both Rhys and Cass have bolted upright. Az, too, is jerked awake.

A thumping lands on the front door, urgent, panicked. Anxiety floods your gut.

“I’m coming, fucking hell.” Rhysand clambers to his feet. He’s dishevelled and uncoordinated as he clambers to the door and rips it open.

“Rhys,” Zakai pants from the other side. “What the fuck is your father playing at?”

“What—”

It’s then that the sound hits you all. The sound of authoritative voices calling out. Of people shouting — arguing — back.

Rhys follows Zakai out of the door. You, Azriel and Cassian share a glance before the three of you are also following.

And what you find outside is…chaos.

The sight of Illyrians fighting is nothing new, but males are being ripped from their houses. Children and wives watch, tears staining their cheeks. Paper and clothes and belongings litter the ground as if they’ve been stolen and discarded. The sky is shadowed by the temporary night of soaring Illyrians

Your wide eyes swivel to a roof a few cottages down — where a male stands upon its tiles, his voice bellowing out. He’s leather-clad and puffed up by his own importance — one of Devlon’s cronies, you think.

He seems unperturbed by the pushback on the ground — the gathering, angered males, as he addresses anyone and everyone around him.

“If I call your name, you’re coming with me! You pack the bare necessities — we leave for Steelshore in thirty minutes!” He announces. “Rahu Sepheron, Venia Char, Falkon Galos, Telarion Krin—”

“He’s lost his damn mind.” Rhys grits his teeth, shaking his head.

“He’s actually doing it.” Ice shoots through your veins, nothing to do with the brisk spring morning. “The High Lord is actually splitting everyone up.”

“Zakai Athalar—”

“Fuck this.” Rhys grabs Zakai’s hand, turning to you, Az, Cassian. “Everyone get back inside. None of us are doing anything or going anywhere until I’ve spoken to my father.”

You don’t hesitate to turn on your feet and pull Azriel with you. You want nothing more than to hole yourself up inside the cottage and pretend that none of this is happening. That anxiety and panic isn’t turning your stomach—

But the second you step foot inside, you’re halting in the doorway so suddenly that Cassian smacks into you from behind.

Fin sits at the table, cleaning his nails with a dagger.

He drinks in the sight of you greedily. Glances down at yours and Azriel’s joined hands. Smiles.

“Do you want to tell me what the fuck you’re playing at?” Rhys pushes past you, storming over. “What the hell is all this?”

“This?” Fin sits back. “This, Rhysand, is the reality of war.”

His son grits his teeth. Clenches his fists. “What.”

“War is upon us. Days, weeks, months away. People will have to fight and people will have to die. It is my duty as High Lord to take necessary action to ensure we come out victorious. If I have to sever some relationships for that outcome, then so be it.”

Cassian barrels forward, nothing but anger given flesh. “And what is this supposed necessary action? Tearing families apart?”

Even he, with his quick temper and loose tongue, would never normally address the High Lord in such a way. But Cassian cares. He’s passionate about what’s right.

And what Fin is doing is not right.

But Fin vaguely smiles and picks an invisible piece of dirt from his jacket. “If need be, Cassian, yes.” He says. “I’m delegating Illyrians where they will serve me best in this war. That includes your cosy little unit here.”

“If we are truly at war,” Azriel says quietly, dangerously, “now is not the time to play games.”

“Who’s playing games, shadowsinger?” Fin shrugs. “Not me.”

You don’t think it’s accidental, the way the High Lord’s eyes slide to you in that moment. You look away, refuse to hold his gaze. You could swear he chuckles quietly as he stands up and tucks his chair in.

“So here’s how it’s going to be.” He rests his forearms atop of the chair. “Rhysand — you will be commanding a legion in Camp Theriel.” He glances — barely — at Zakai. “I do believe your lover has already received a summons to leave for Camp Steelshore, so he should probably run along, lest he gets left behind.”

“Father—”

“Cassian.” He interrupts. “You will remain here, in Windhaven — as a common foot soldier in this war.”

“A foot soldier?” Cass spits. “That’s beneath my rank and you know it. You’re only doing this because you’re threatened by Az, Rhys and I being together. How powerful we are. Everyone knows that.”

Fin simply tsks. “Watch yourself, foot soldier. You don’t want to slip further down the ranks, now, do you—”

“Fin.” Finally, you find your voice. You step forward, despite Azriel trying to yank you back. You stare pleadingly at the High Lord.

He turns to you. His eyes sweep your face. His expression seems to go somewhat…quiet.

You had begun to respect this male in some roundabout way. You don’t think you’d ever have fully trusted him, but…there was an understanding, for a time. An allegiance of sorts.

You’d seen a side to him that so few did. And though it’s nowhere to be seen now…you have to believe that it’s still under there somewhere. You have to.

“Please don’t do this.” You whisper, your eyes filling with tears. “Please. This is our home. Our family.”

At the first sight of a tear rolling down your face, Fin swallows — hard. He clenches his fists at his sides like he’s fighting the urge to reach out and wipe it away.

It seems like so, so long that he stares at you. So long that he seems to be fighting something internally.

So long that a small glimmer of hope ignites in you that perhaps he cares enough to listen.

But then his eyes are shuttering, and he’s looking away. He says, stiffly, “We all have to make sacrifices in war.”

“Fin—”

“Rhysand will go to Camp Theriel. Cassian will stay here.” His eyes open again. He looks from you, to Azriel, back to you. “You and the shadowsinger are coming to Velaris with me.”

“What?!”

“You’d better say your goodbyes.” He squares his shoulders, not looking at you at all, now. “It’ll be a very, very long time before you all see each other again. If you see each other again.”

You open your mouth — to say what, you don’t know.

But Fin disappears before your eyes, leaving you — your family — alone.

What sounds far, far away is Cassian’s outraged ranting. Rhysand cursing his father. Zakai trying to talk to him, calm him down.

You and Azriel are the only two who don’t say a thing. Just stand there in silence.

Because you know you can curse all you like. You can shout and throw things and damn Fin to a miserable existence. It may bring you some temporary reprieve.

But it will not change a thing.

Fin is your High Lord. His mind is made up. This is just the next round in his game.

Your family is being cleaved apart. You stand in that cottage where you all slept in each other’s company — not realising it might be the last time, ever.

Your head roars and your tears keep on coming. But you can do nothing but stare at Azriel. He stares at you, too.

You and the shadowsinger are coming to Velaris with me.

It makes you sick to your stomach. Probably makes Azriel sick to his stomach, also.

But your locked, silent, crestfallen gazes communicate one sacred promise to each other.

Whatever happens, we’ll face it together.

Authors note: Oooooof how are we all feeling? Good? Bad? Sad? Mad? Tempted to commit arson?

I just wanted to say thank you so much for coming on this journey with me. What started out as a fun little smut piece turned into a whole story I didn’t even know I had in me, but I’ve enjoyed every bit of it — especially hearing from all of you. Your likes, reblogs, comments and asks have meant the world to me through this. Thank you so much for the wonderful responses 🫶🏻

For anyone who didn’t see my answer to an ask regarding this last part — I understand it might not be the ending everyone wanted or expected, but I felt there was still so much potential in the story that I wanted to leave it open to — perhaps — write a sequel at some point. I have so many ideas, and I’m totally willing to talk about it and answer any questions about it you have any!

Thank you, again, for all the support, darlings. And I truly hope you enjoyed Practice On Me. 💕

pom tags: @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @sirenpearldust @queercodedcharacter @azriels-shadowsinger @ruler-of-hades @demi03 @magicaldragonlady @abrielletargaryen @ralsieq @v3lv3tf0x @achase2002 @feyretopia @hayrunnwr @don’t-feed-the-hipsters @brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @bloodicka @acourtofinkandpapyrus @riri-is-a-girlie @siriusement @4valyries @socmono @azriels-mate123 @acourtofbatboydreams @katherinearcheron @nesemi @lupinswolfsbanes @dreaming-unafraid @dxnniiix @cyrygher @liddyr03 @lmllsl @nightless @teenageeggscissorslawyer @brighterthanlonelythoughts @blitz-fall @maybefoxysouls @mschanand1erbong @juiceboxreads @bangtanbecks @florencemtrash @hyemishii @obixix @thenovarose @meshellexplosionmurder @angzlxna @lissy31xoxo-blog @supernatural99 @positivewitch @art3-m1ss @milfhunter-pdx @bbuckysbeardd @coralseacourt @towhateverend87 @sspookz @bird-on-the-wire33 @morrie-rose @megwan @catscanteleport @sevikas-whore @thickthighs-sadeyes @hihelloitsbooktimeppl

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huramuna · 6 months

Text

growing on you - oneshot.

modern aemond x (ex) girlfriend reader

content: smut (specifics under the cut), afab reader, angst, unhealthy coping mechanisms, descriptions of depression and its effect on the body, probably an unhealthy relationship, aemond being an idiot, probably ooc aemond, reader not described, no use of y/n, targtowers seek therapy: the story, fluff at the end bc hehe

work is 18+, minors do not interact or you shall be smited.

word count: 7.4k (oops)

a/n: i've had this one in the drafts for a while. tweaked to be a fun 'lil angsty end of year holiday fic. as is my motto: fuck it we ball. a/n 2: i pivoted from a third person pov fic to a second person pov fic 3/4 through writing this using the find and replace tool, so if there are grammar errors, i apologize! also my first time doing second person pov, weehee.

monsters - all time low ft. blackbear • why do i - set it off ft. hatsune miku

warnings: p in v, creampie, cockwarming, slightly tipsy sex

Everything in your life was enveloped by him. your clothes smelled like him, small strands of his hair were woven into every nook and cranny of your apartment together, his fitness regime protein powder and ketogenic supplements were littered in your kitchen cabinets.

You couldn’t get rid of him, not even if you tried. Aemond was all you'd ever known— you have known one another since the age of seven, and have been in a relationship since fourteen. You were both now twenty-six. Twelve years you’ve been together romantically (longer, even, but you were both too stubborn to admit it) and nineteen years you’ve been in each other's lives in some capacity or another.

You’ve been involved together longer than you’ve not known each other. You hardly knew who you were without Aemond— a thought that scared you deeply.

It’s been two weeks since he moved out, only temporarily he’d said. He needed space. He would still pay his share of the rent and you didn’t need to worry about that.

But what about everything else? What about him warming you at night? Comforting you when you had nightmares? What about his items in the fridge, surely you’d spoil if he didn’t use them soon. What about Vhagar? Their— no, his geriatric cat that he took with him to God knows where— she must be terrified, surely.

Was he giving Vhagar her medicine before bed? Of course he was— he was the more responsible one anyway.

You paced back and forth until the soles of your feet ached and then some. Knowing Aemond for so long, you had intimate knowledge on everything about him, you were woven into each other's DNA like vines on a trellis, growing and expanding until you swallowed all of the other plants whole.

That is what happened, wasn’t it? You grew too large, too comfortable and became stagnant. You weren't unaware of his rising workload at his firm, but he had always been a workaholic— throughout their teenage years, through college and grad school. It never slowed him down so you didn’t understand the change in behavior.

Aemond was closed off. He always was a bit emotionally stunted due to his upbringing or lack thereof from his father and everything that happened surrounding his eye, but he had a soft side for you, always for you. You could retrace every part of him perfectly from memory, always could make him laugh, could comfort him when he recused himself, and the rare times he did cry, you were there.

But the last few months there was a shift— a change in him. Where he had been hard to open before, like a rusty hinge just requiring some oil, he was now padlocked, ironclad and impenetrable. Attempts to talk were shrugged off, ignored or diverted.

“Please, just talk to me, Aemond,” you said one night as you sat on the couch. You were watching your collective favorite show and he wasn’t even commenting on it like he usually did, he was silent and deadpanned. “I don’t understand what’s wrong if you don’t talk about it.”

“There's nothing wrong, therefore, nothing to talk about. I’m just tired from work,” he responded gruffly. “Stop whining.”

His tone was clipped and harsh, sending a wave of hurt trickling through your body. you were overly emotional, where he was under emotional— usually, you balanced each other out and struck a good middle ground, but in times like these, during fights, things would get explosive.

The tears started right away, your little sniffling cries stifled by a hand over your mouth. You turned away, wrapping yourself in the blanket.

“Seriously?” he growled, “I didn’t even say anything and you’re fucking crying again.”

“I d-don’t appreciate your tone, Aemond— you’re being mean,” you sniffed, wiping away tears that were soon just replaced by new ones. “Please, don’t be mean to me.” you were always soft hearted, and it was one of the things Aemond loved about you— or he had loved at one point.

“I’m not being mean,” he pinched his brow, “you’re overreacting and I do not have the capacity to deal with your antics anymore.”

Of course, your mind hit the panic button. ‘Anymore’ meaning that he didn’t want to deal with you at all, ever. The tears increased and you recused yourself further into a ball.

“Fucking hell.” he cursed, getting up from the couch and stomping outside to the balcony, lighting up a cigarette. He was out there for about an hour— you had cried yourself to sleep.

It was many situations like that for weeks that finally just… broke him.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he said one day, slamming his keys down on the kitchen table, “I seriously cannot deal with your childish shit anymore— I’m working my ass off at the firm, actually bringing in money and I still have to come home and tend to you. you’re twenty-six, grow up and stop crying at every little thing. It’s fucking infuriating.”

“You know I can’t control that part of me!” you screamed back, your temper rising immediately to match his. The words flowing out of your mouth didn’t feel like yours, but some sort of defensive mechanism. “You can’t do this anymore? You’re not doing anything Aemond, except pushing me away. God, you haven’t even touched me in weeks.”

“Oh, so this is about sex?” he countered, getting closer to you, nostrils flaring. “You’re mad because I won’t fuck you? Are you that desperate?”

That one stung, to be sure. Aemond had been your first and only— you only ever knew him, only ever had him. “No, not just sex,” you murmured, “you haven’t even… just touched me normally. No hugs, no little caresses, nothing— it's as if I’m an aversion to you.”

He backed up from you, “Maybe we’re just too close,” he admitted, “We’ve been together too long. It's not fun anymore, it’s not new— it’s the same old, same old, going through the motions for release, not because I actually like it.”

“I don’t understand.” you said, your voice sounding disconnected from your body. The tips of your fingers felt numb, the numbness spreading through your body, your heart pounding in your chest as if it wanted to escape.

“I need space. I need to think about this.”

“This?”

“Us. I need to think about us and if this is something I really want,” he paused, “You’re… too much and not enough right now.”

“Wh— Aemond, please,” you whispered, your voice broken, “What can I do? I’ll… I’ll change, I won’t cry or whine anymore— please.”

He stared at you, his prosthetic eye unmoving while his remaining one bored into you, “I will think about it.”

“What… does this mean?”

“We are taking a break, alright? I’ll have my essentials out and I’m going to stay with Aegon.”

“Please— don’t go. I need you.”

That was the end of that conversation. That was the last time you spoke, two weeks ago. You expected him to text you at some point, to check in on you, to maybe try to talk things out.

Nothing. There's been nothing. Radio silence.

You felt isolated— you had no family, as your parents were estranged from you. you couldn’t go to Aemond’s family, as close as you were to them all, it just simply wasn’t an option.

You didn’t have friends. All you knew was Aemond.

It was early in the evening and you were in a deep pit of self-loathing. You decided to text him.

You swallowed thickly— the green meant he either turned off his phone or blocked you. You hoped that it wasn’t the latter.

The next few weeks were a blur. You felt like you were barely living, merely going through the motions to stay alive— not that you really were.

You woke up, went to work, came home, scrounged up food and then went to sleep. Rinse and repeat.

Weeks become months of your monotony, and no word from Aemond. He still had half of his stuff left in the apartment, you felt like you could barely breathe. At every turn there was something to remind you of him.

You’d lived in this apartment together for four years, the evidence of your relationship etched into the very walls. It was like the space was closing in on you and you couldn’t catch your breath, barely keeping your head above water.

You had to move out— you had to get away.

You managed to find a place, a cheap studio above a coffee shop downtown. The landlord was an old lady who was sympathetic to your situation and agreed to let you take the space quickly.

There was still the matter of your and Aemond’s current apartment— or, rather, it was just Aemond’s now.

Saving yourself the embarrassment of seeing if you were still blocked, you called Aegon. He was a better messenger than none.

“Hey, Egg,” you said, sitting on the couch. you bounced your knee up and down, biting at the skin of your lip. You and Aegon were amicable, not necessarily as close as you and Aemond, but you grew up together. Aegon ran in different social circles than you and you were somewhat polar opposites so you never really stuck— you did have your phases of friendship, though– which pissed Aemond off to no end. “Um, I don’t know if this is the right way to go about things but, do you mind relaying a message to Aemond for me?”

“Yeah, ‘spose I could. What’s up?” Aegon replied, his tone nonchalant like usual.

“I’m moving out of the apartment into my own place, so I guess he can go back. I’ll have all my stuff out by tomorrow.”

“Fuckin’ finally,” Aegon said, “He’s been driving me up the wall with his tidy, feng shui bullshit. He rearranged my whole place like five times and has taken up all the space in my cabinets with that nasty no-carb shit,” he paused for a moment, “I… didn’t mean that in a bad way to you, ‘course. I’m sorry it had to come to this. He’s a fucking idiot.”

That made you laugh, genuinely. Your first laugh in months. “Yeah– he… tends to do that. He left half of his stuff here, it feels like I’m living in the twilight zone. I just… gotta get away, you know?”

“Hey, I get that– you don’t have to explain yourself to me. He’s a dickhead and doesn’t understand how good he has it. If you want, I can bring my truck over tomorrow and help you move stuff.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, Egg.”

“I want to– please.”

Your brow furrowed– Aegon usually wasn’t so persistent on anything unless it involved drinking or drugs. But, you hadn’t had real human contact in eons besides at work so… maybe it could be good.

“Okay, see you tomorrow. Thank you, really.”

–

It was rainy the next day– nasty and wet, droplets pouring down like tears. It felt somewhat familiar.

But, Aegon showed up like he promised, rolling up in his old, fading yellow pick-up truck. His hair was much shorter than you remembered and he looked actually well kept– Aemond must’ve been whipping him into shape.

He waved and ran through the rain, standing under the eave, “So– it’s raining.”

You snorted, “I think I can see that,” you teased with a tiny smile, “Not sure when it’ll let up.”

“I brought uh…” he paused for a moment to think, stretching out his arms in a square shape, “Y’know?”

“A tarp?”

“Yup– that,” he gave a lopsided grin, inviting himself in through the open door, “you aren’t going to kick me out if I don’t take off my shoes, right?”

You glanced down at his boots– they were a bit muddy and definitely wet. Aemond wouldn’t have let him step two feet through the threshold without taking them off. But– you weren't Aemond. “No, keep them on if you want. It’s not my problem if you track dirt through the place anyway.”

He nodded, taking his phone out of his pocket for a moment and shooting a quick message to someone. “Sorry I haven’t been around, it’s just… he’s my brother. It would be kind of… I dunno, crossing some sort of unsaid boundary if I visited his… girlfriend?”

“Ex-girlfriend. I guess,” you corrected softly– but you didn’t really know yourself what it was. He wouldn’t talk to you, “It’s fine. I didn’t expect anyone to really reach out anyway, because of that… unsaid boundary thing.”

“We should’ve. you’re a part of our family with or without Aemond. Me, Helaena and Daeron have a whole group chat about it. Even mom asked where you’ve been,” he scratched the back of his head absentmindedly as he sent out another text, “Someone should’ve checked up sooner.”

“You’re acting like I’m some sort of neglected puppy, Aegon,” you turned to him, “... do I really look so terrible?”

Aegon glanced up at you, his mouth formed in a hard line. He cracked his knuckles, shrugging his shoulders. “I won’t lie to you. You look half dead.”

You blinked. Hard. Moving towards a mirror in the hall, you looked at yourself. Dark circles under sunken eyes, your skin was a pale pallor and your hair needed a trim desperately, your split ends curled and fettered. You were gaunt, as well– having lost a bit of weight over the months. “Jesus,” you muttered. Glancing over at Aegon, he was texting again. “Sending an update to the group chat, I guess? ‘Good news, she’s still alive, barely’?”

He snorted, “Yeah– something like that,” finally, he locked his phone and slipped it in his pocket. “I made sure to text Aemond, too.”

Your mouth felt dry at the mention. “Why?”

“He asked.”

“Asked?”

“He asked me to… make sure you were okay.”

Goosebumps prickled at your skin, the ever familiar feeling of nausea and despair swirling in the pit of your stomach. Nibbling at your lip more, you turned away, feeling a bit too exposed. “And what’d you say?”

“I said you were alive but you are not okay.”

Your lips pursed into a line as you tasted a bit of copper in your mouth from chewing on your lip. “I guess that’s right,” you muttered, “Why would he ask?”

“Aemond is… complicated. you know that better than anyone. I don’t know what kind of bug he has up his ass these last few months but… even through all of this, he still cares.”

“Like hell he does,” you snapped, feeling the sting of tears, “If he did, he would’ve given us a chance to talk it out, to… to try, maybe even go to therapy, I don’t fucking know– he would’ve reached out– anyone should’ve reached out,” your hand went to your hair, right at your hairline at your scalp, picking at the hairs there– another self-destructive habit you’ve picked up in your months of isolation, “I’m so fucking alone, Aegon. He knows… you all know I have absolutely no one else. I’ve been going through this on my own. I have no friends, no family– no brother to go live with when I need space, no family group chat. I don’t have shit, Aegon. All I’ve ever known in my life is him and you and Helaena and Daeron and mom. Why… why does it feel like I was cast off the island without even… a tribal council or something?” you sniffed, the tears coming in full force now.

Aegon was silent, coming up behind you. “I’m… sorry,” he murmured, putting his hands on your shoulders, as frail and skeletal as you were, “We should’ve been better. We… will be better.” he turned you around and pulled you into his chest, enveloping you in his arms. “We thought you would’ve been… fine without him. He made it seem like that– that you were strong enough. I only figured it out yesterday when he was up my ass about texting him as soon as I saw you. He needed to know if you were feeding yourself, if you were keeping up with your medication, if you still had nightmares. A fuckin’... laundry list of questions– I told him to stick his questions up where the sun don’t shine and to see for himself,” he took a breath, “He settled on one question– if you were okay.”

“I think he got his fucking answer, then,” you whispered, “I am not okay. I haven’t been okay in months. I… I need help.”

“I know,” Aegon shifted you slightly to look at your face, “We’ll help you– I promise, you won’t be alone anymore. Look, I’ll even add you to the group chat, okay? I’ll rename it to ‘Aemond Sucks’, how does that sound?”

You cracked a tiny smile, sniffling. “Yeah… I’d like that.”

–

You ended up moving your belongings to your new place the same day, effectively ridding yourself of the constant shadow of Aemond’s memory.

Aegon even took you to Michael’s and HomeGoods to get stuff for your little studio, so you could really make it yours. It was a bit intimidating at first– you weren't used to being able to decorate things the way you wanted, as Aemond always opted to keep things simple and minimalistic.

You, admittedly, went all out. Your new studio looked like a Pinterest board titled ‘cottagecore’. You were incredibly happy with it all, practically jumping up and down at it.

“It looks so good! I love these little mushroom chairs you picked out, Egg,” you hummed, patting some plush felted stools in the shape of mushrooms, which you put near the window. “I bet Helaena would love it.”

“Let’s take some pictures for the group chat, Hel will literally be all over this. you two always love that cottagecore, fairycore, fantasy… shit.” he grinned, stooping down to take some very out of perspective pictures of the mushroom chairs, making them look fifty feet tall.

You settled into your new place quickly, having Helaena, Aegon and Daeron over quite often for drinks and movies. Your health steadily improved until you were mostly back to normal physically– there would be a lot of scars internally, however that would take longer to heal, if you ever would. You had developed a trust issue complex since Aemond’s unceremonious exit from your life and hadn’t gone on any dates, you didn’t know when or if you would ever be ready. They did you the courtesy of not mentioning Aemond, until Daeron said something odd.

It was about four months after you moved in, and almost a full year since you’d last seen Aemond. You were all a few mixed drinks in, Aegon had made them and you were heavy on the alcohol, light on the ‘mix’, and you were all kicked back on the couch, with Aegon laying on the mushroom chairs stacked next to each other, lazed back like a cat.

“Mom says she wants you over for Christmas dinner,” Daeron said, taking a sip of his drink, “She figured it’d be fine with Aemond going off with his new…” he blinked, catching himself.

Helaena nudged Daeron in the ribs as a warning, staring at their friend warily.

“... his new? His new what?” you asked, your voice so quiet that it must’ve been like a squeak.

“... new girlfriend.” he finished.

You were silent for a while before sighing. “I figured it would happen eventually. I can only hope that it… wasn’t too soon after we broke up– or whatever… happened.”

“We all told him it was fucked up that he just left and ghosted you, lovey. Even mom got on his ass about it, and he is her favorite child who usually can do no wrong.” Helaena put her drink down, wrapping her arm around you. “You should come to Christmas dinner, everyone would be super happy to see you! And Aemond won’t be there, so even more reason to come. Please.” she whimpered, using her best puppy-dog face.

You mulled it over in your mind for a few moments. You couldn’t think of anything more painful than being alone during the holidays, so you nodded.

–

It was snowing on Christmas day, the flurries coming down and melting against your skin as you waited for Aegon to pick you up. You were wearing a red checkered tapestry dress with a flannel jacket, a white fluffed scarf wrapped around your neck and lower face. As soon as you saw the familiar color of Aegon’s truck, you practically booked it into the passenger seat.

“Merry Christmas, you look fantastic,” Aegon mused, ever the charmer. “I’ve got the heater on full blast, I promise– but y’know my old boy’s puttering these days. We’ll need to get some speed for it to really warm up.”

“Mmm,” you murmured, your teeth chattering, “S’cold.”

He reached back and grabbed a well-used blanket, draping it over your legs. “Better?”

“... yeah– but,” you blinked, raising a brow. “What do you have this in the truck for?”

Aegon laughed as he began the drive to his family’s estate. “I think you know.”

“Please don’t tell me you’ve fucked someone on this blanket, Aegon.”

“Someones– not just someone. But I keep it clean, no worries!”

The drive to the Targaryen estate was about an hour and a half from town, nestled deep into an expansive forest where there weren’t any other homes in at least five miles. It was a gorgeous, Victorian style mansion and according to Daeron, was most certainly haunted. You had been here numerous times, of course, but it’d been a while. As you pulled up in the driveway, you saw Alicent standing outside the door dressed in a gorgeous red and green festive dress, hair curled to perfection. Nothing less was expected of Alicent, though.

“Oh, my darling,” Alicent cooed, holding her arms out to caress who she thought of as her fifth child. “It’s been too long, I’ve missed you.”

Your heart warmed under Alicent’s caress, someone who had become more of a mother figure to you than your actual mother. You sniffed, pressing your forehead into Alicent’s shoulder. “Missed you too, mom.”

“Come on, you both can cry inside in the nice toasty house, yeah? I’m freezing my balls off here, mom.”

Alicent huffed, ushering both of you inside. “Don’t be vulgar, son– it’s Christmas.”

Helaena and Daeron were already there, as well as Otto, who gave you a stiff nod as a greeting, as was his usual means of communication.

You settled into the kitchen, Alicent pouring everyone apple cider and dishing out at least six types of holiday themed cookies. About an hour after arriving, there was a knock on the door.

“Oh, that must be Rhaenyra and Laena. Can you answer the door, darling? I need to take the roast out of the oven. I’m sure they would be happy to see you!”

“Mhm!” you mused through bites of cookies. You loved Rhaenyra and Laena, who were technically married with husbands, as was Alicent, but the three of them were in a secret, not so secret to anyone with eyes, polyamorous relationship. It always amused all of their kids when they tried to hide it.

You turned the doorknob, fully expecting to see Rhaenyra and Laena. It was not.

Aemond.

“Fuck.” you blurted out, eyes wide. It had been the better part of a year since you had last seen him. His hair was longer now, gathered into a low bun at the nape of his neck, his cheeks a bit more gaunt. He still wore his earrings and his rings– including the one you had given him almost a decade ago.

“Shit.” he responded, seemingly caught equally off guard by seeing you again. The pupil of his non-prosthetic eye dilated until the iris was almost consumed in black, before he flexed his hand and reeled himself in.

You couldn’t help but notice he was alone– no ‘new girlfriend’ as Daeron had put it. “Aemond,” you breathed, feeling like you were outside of your own body, your head filled with fluff and static. “Merry… Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.” he responded gruffly, “Can I come in?”

“Oh– yeah, duh,” you chastised yourself, stepping aside to let him in. “Sorry.”

“Mm.” he grunted in his usual manner. That seemed to be a habit he hadn’t dropped.

You all but retreated to the kitchen, the expression on your face telling everything. Aegon, Daeron, and Helaena gathered around you.

“I didn’t invite him, I swear.” Aegon whispered.

“Well, neither did I!” Daeron professed.

“Don’t look at me, I didn’t invite him. He left me on read three weeks ago when I sent him a picture of a bug on my windowsill.” Helaena sniffed.

A new voice chimed in. “I invited him,” Alicent spoke, breaking up the little posse, “I told him to come over or he would be grounded for three months.”

All four of you stared at Alicent, deadpanned.

“Mom– he’s… almost twenty-seven. you can’t ground him,” Daeron said, confused. “And moreover, why? Wasn’t he busy?”

“Well, first off, he is my son, so I wanted to see him for Christmas. Two, I believe we have someone here who has some unresolved issues with him.” Alicent responded, staring right at you pointedly.

“... I don’t know… I… I don’t know if I can talk to him. It’s been too long… I feel like I was just getting over all of this.”

“Well, do I have any say in this?” Aemond barged into the circle, his hands in his pockets.

You suddenly felt overwhelmed, the familiar bubbling of everything being too much rising in your stomach. You were teleported back to months ago when you were barely alive, trapped in your own mind. “I… I need… I need a minute.” you muttered, your voice sounding distorted as you made your way to the bathroom, turning on the faucet. Chest heaving, you were already crying, the waterworks starting somewhere between the hallway and the sink.

“You’re always fucking crying, I can’t take it anymore.” Aemond’s voice from months and months ago echoed in your head, causing the tears to flow more. You bit against your lip, tasting blood right away as you willed yourself to stop crying.

“S-stop… stop crying,” you whispered, fingers messing up your hair as you held fistfuls of it. You couldn’t catch your composure for the life of you, sliding against the bathroom wall onto the floor.

Vision blurring, you don’t know how long you were incoherent for. When you came back to yourself, Aemond was in front of you, crouched down.

“Hey,” he murmured softly, the door closed behind him, “It’s okay.”

You swallowed, still numb as he pried your fists from your head, out of your hair, smoothing it down.

“Look at me, can you do that? Nod if you can hear me.”

You nodded slowly, the feeling coming back to your extremities in a sprightly tickling sensation. You blinked tears from your eyes, the liquid smearing your vision.

Aemond rasped a thumb over your eyes, effectively clearing the obstruction from your vision. “Just breathe,” he continued to whisper. It was ever reminiscent of when he would calm you down after a nightmare, voice low and scratchy in a way that comforted you. He was so close now, closer than he’d been in forever. He still smelled the same, the scent triggering a deep aching within your chest. A scent that took you forever to get rid of, but you never truly could. “Can… we talk?” he asked then, his voice sounding more vulnerable than ever.

It felt like whiplash, visions of your previous fights plaguing you, where he had been so closed off, so far away, so distant that you couldn’t reach him– and now, he was here. In the present, in the flesh. In front of you, opened. Not opened completely, but you could see it, like the slit of a cracked door, the light bleeding through. It was there.

“... yeah.”

“I… I’m… I’m sorry. What I did was fucked up. It was fucked up and wrong and you didn’t deserve any of it.”

“You’re right about that,” you muttered, pulling your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them. “I didn’t deserve it.”

Aemond’s mouth twitched slightly before he sat down next to you, propping up his legs in a criss-cross. He opened his mouth to speak a few times, before closing it. His hands flexed and unflexed in quick succession– he was clearly thinking very carefully about his next words. “... I’ve… got issues. You know that better than anyone. I don’t know what was going through my head those months that we fought. I can hardly remember it now, it was like… I was in a fog, a haze– I was working myself half to death, I just wanted dad to notice, to fucking… appreciate me,” he put his hands on his head, “I was so… tied up in this illusion that if I made junior associate at the firm so young that he would congratulate me on my achievement and…” Aemond let out a sigh, “And… in the process… I pushed you away.”

You looked at him, feeling your gaze soften ever so slightly. You knew that his father was a sore spot for him and that trauma ran deep. “You didn’t just push me away, Aemond,” you sighed, reaching out a shaky hand to pry one of his from his face. “... if you would’ve just talked to me, I could’ve helped. You didn’t push… you… you shoved, you shoved and ran in the other direction.”

His one violet eye danced towards you. “I know. I’ve been kicking myself for it. When Aegon told me you weren’t doing well… I almost left work to see you.”

“... you did?”

“Yeah. Aegon basically told me not to– that… this was something you needed space for. Kind of like I did but… maybe in a more healthy way.”

“A text wouldn’t have hurt.”

He reached into his pocket and took out his phone– his wallpaper was still the same as it was, a picture of you, him and Vhagar very unhappy in an elf costume. He scrolled to his notes app, which was filled with messages addressed to you. “... I thought it might, after what Aegon had said. I was… ashamed of how I acted, how I handled the whole thing– how I left you alone without a word. He told me how you looked… dead. I didn’t want to make it worse.”

Your eyes scanned the messages, picking out some words. The main ones that caught your gaze were ‘sorry’, ‘love’, ‘regret’. A huge breath left your lungs, feeling as if everything had been knocked out of you at once. You felt like you were being whipped back and forth in the wind, trying to grab onto anything. If you both weren’t so stubborn and just messaged one another– well, no. You did message him, one time. “I thought you blocked me.”

“... for five minutes, maybe.”

“God, we’re so fucking stupid, Aemond.”

“You aren’t– don’t say that. I’m literally a dumbass. All of my siblings told me so, even my own mother, and you know she never curses.”

The tiniest of smiles cracked onto your face as you jostled his shoulder. “Yeah… you are a dumbass. I am allowed to say it at least once. So, um,” you shuffled slightly, “Daeron kind of let it slip that you had a new girlfriend?”

Aemond pinched his brow. “Of course he said that. He is twenty-one years old and still doesn’t know how to use his goddamn ears. I said I was seeing a new therapist, not that I had a fucking girlfriend.”

“A therapist?”

“... things got really dark for me after I moved back into our… no, my… place. After you officially moved out. It felt lifeless, all of your things were gone, the fucking warmth sucked out of the place. It felt like it’d been sterilized of anything… good. I feel into something– I don’t know, a depression? I guess, that’s what Aegon called it. He suggested I see a therapist, citing me as ‘an emotionally stunted asshole who needs more therapy than him’.” he exaggerated the last bit with air quotes, rolling his eye.

“... he isn’t wrong. I mean, I love your family, but all of you are all kinds of fucked up. Maybe I am too, practically being a part of it.”

Aemond chuckled, giving a tight lipped smile. “We are fucked up. I realized that… I really do not give a shit what my dad thinks, because nothing will ever be good enough for him. He’s so far gone now that he probably doesn’t even know we exist. I’ve come to terms with that and honestly… it feels like a weight has been lifted.”

“I’m glad you could… work through some of that, Aemond.” you say sincerely, resting your cheek on his arm absentmindedly.

“... I want to talk about us.”

“... us. Okay.”

“I don’t expect you to want to jump right back into things. It would be unfair to think that– but… maybe we could try?”

Your chest feels a bit tight at his admission– he wanted to try. Every fiber in your being wanted to say yes and jump back into it like you’d never left. But you knew you couldn’t. There were still parts of you scarred by this whole experience, some parts that may never heal. It would take a long time and a lot of talks like this to even get some semblance of what the both of you had. “Well… before we were together, believe it or not, we were friends. Could we… try that for right now?”

His chest visibly deflated a bit, but he nodded. “Whatever you need, okay?”

–

The days following Christmas, leading up to New Year’s were… different. You and Aemond were back in contact, going out for coffee and lunch a few times.

On the day before New Year’s eve, you texted him.

Turns out, timing the movie to sync with 12 am on New Year’s day to Toby Maguire saying ‘Pizza time’ was difficult. Well, it wasn’t difficult for normal people– but you and Aemond were a bit tipsy, as Aegon had left some hard apple ciders in your fridge, to which you both indulged.

“Okay, okay,” Aemond stared at his phone, “5… 4… 2… wait, no, fuck, 3… 2… I think we fucked it up– just go, go!”

Quickly, you started the movie. “Maybe we should’ve practiced– can we start over?” you plopped on the couch, sinking into the sofa and taking a swig of the cider.

“Doesn’t work like that, sweetheart. Can’t turn back time.” he mused softly, squatting down on one of the mushroom stools. “Pretty comfy.”

“Aegon picked those out, nifty, huh?”

“Nifty.” he parroted.

The movie continued on, but as it went on, there was an unspoken tension growing. Aemond hadn’t sat on the couch, but rather, the stools that were on the other side of the room. It felt like a chasm had formed, the strain almost palpable.

You chewed on your lip anxiously, contemplating whether or not to say anything. But, you had both been trying a new technique called ‘communication’ – a pretty cool and helpful thing that Aemond’s therapist had taught him. You remember laughing when he posed it that same way– but it was extremely important. You cleared your throat. “Why are you sitting all the way over there?”

“... um. I wanted to try the mushroom seats, I guess.”

“You don’t want to sit next to me?” you countered, feeling especially brave.

“Is that… alright?”

“Um, duh. I invited you over for pizza and a movie so we could… sit together. Not for you to be half a mile away sitting on a mushroom.”

“As long as it’s alright with you.” he murmured, sitting up from the mushroom stool and making his way over to you, sliding onto the couch, still a few feet away from you.

You weren’t sure if it was the atmosphere, the pent up emotions, the small buzz of alcohol, or a destructive cocktail of all three, but you inched closer to him. Closer, closer… until your thighs were touching. You glanced up at him beneath fettered lashes. “Hi.”

“Hey.” he responded, his voice low and warm. It caused a balmy and comforting vibration to go through you, reverberating in your chest.

You became all too aware of your movements, your closeness to him, the skin of your thigh grazing against his jeans as you got as close as you could. Your lips parted slightly as he stared back down at you. “Can… we?”

“Can we, what?” he murmured, lacing his fingers through your loose hair, gently grasping it at the nape of your neck. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

“... kiss. A little bit.”

“Just a little bit?”

“Mhm. A teeny bit.” you leaned up, Aemond meeting you halfway as your lips came together. The culmination of your year apart, all of the emotions, the sadness, the frustration and anger, the passion, love, tears– all of it came together at this moment as the two of you melded together perfectly, as if you’d never left. You couldn’t help but let out a sigh of contentment, followed by what could only be articulated as a moan.

It caught both of you off guard, Aemond pulling away for a moment, his lips still ghosting over yours. “Fucking hell,” he breathed against your skin, sending goosebumps tingling from your tailbone up to the nape of your neck, the hairs on your body standing on end. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you,” you responded before latching onto him once more. It started off loving and slow, your lips moving against one another like two old lovers dancing together– then it began to heat up, your mouth parting to accommodate his tongue, gnashing against yours as their dance turned up a notch. Your hands roamed his body, everything you committed to memory for so many years still in its same spot. It felt good, it felt like home. “Please, Aemond– I… I need you. It’s been so long… too long…”

“Too long since I’ve had you, had this,” his hand reached down, cupping your mound still hidden beneath your panties. Somehow, you foresaw this moment before it happened and thankfully wore a light dress. “Let me in, love.”

You parted your legs, feeling the ever familiar crook of his fingers slide down the front of your panties, testing the waters. The pad of his thumb and middle finger locked on instantly to your clit, swirling the sensitive bud, sending electric shocks through your extremities. You bit your lip to stifle a moan, pressing your forehead against his. “Need you inside, now.” you all but growled as you peppered little kisses along the soft flesh of his neck.

He wouldn’t keep you waiting long, as it seemed he needed this as much as you did. He parted your panties to the side, propping you on top of him and sliding you down his length, earning a hissed gasp from both of you. It took all of his strength not to burst in you right then, as you enveloped him in your tight, wet heat. “You were made for me,” he breathed, biting down on your shoulder, leaving red marks. One of his favorite things to do was to mark you, leaving hickies in his wake as he worshiped every inch of exposed skin he could reach. “Melded so perfectly, just for me.” he grabbed the flesh of your bottom, squeezing gently at first, then landing a smack on it as he began to thrust up into you.

You nodded fervently, hiccuping little moans as you dug your face into his shoulder, biting him in turn. Your nails sunk into his skin, indenting against his spine as they always had, as they always were meant to. It felt much like a pianist resting their fingers on the ivories after a long break, the pads of your fingers sinking into the ridges of his very being. You were meant to be here, he was meant to be here. You could feel your end coming on all too soon, his cock filling every nook and cranny of you, bullying that spongy, delicate sweet spot just right. You began to clench, your tell-tale sign to him that you were close.

“I love you,” he whispered, panting slightly, using one hand to push your face back so you could meet his gaze. His wild, pupil-blown out gaze, cheeks reddened, mouth parted, brow furrowed. “I love you, I fucking love you. I missed you– fuck.”

“I l-love you,” you responded before he parted your lips with his thumb, “Love you so much– p-please, s’close.” you whined into his mouth.

“Let go, sweetheart, c’mon,” he grinned against your lips, nipping and biting at them. “Come for me.”

That was all you needed, the twine of your climax coming undone right in your core, snapping like a taut thread. Your usual habit was to hide your face in his shoulder when you came, whimpering and panting– but he didn’t let you this time. He held your face, staring at you intently as if you were a piece of fine art on display, and he was a connoisseur.

You clenched around him tightly, spurring him to his own end. His hard wrought fingers gripped your ass like it was a lifeline, grunting as he found his release deep within you, where it was always meant to be.

Coming down from your high, you slumped against his chest, mouth parted. Embarrassingly enough, a little drool wetted your lips. You were fully and thoroughly fucked out, not even registering that Tobey Maguire said “Pizza time!”

“Happy New Year, love,” Aemond murmured against your hair, nestling you tightly against him. He didn’t pull out– he preferred it this way, having you warm him through until you both fell asleep.

“... Happy New Year,” you whispered back.

–

Two and a half months later, it was Valentine's day. You and Aemond were officially dating again as of January 2nd, much to the surprise of no one.

You both took things as slow as you could, keeping separate apartments for the time being– but you’d given him a key to your place about two weeks in, and he was there all the time, taking much needed leave from work.

Unlocking the door to your apartment, you walked in, seeing Aemond lounging on the couch with a scruffy brown furball on him.

“Oh, Vhagar! You brought my baby,” you mused, dropping your items (with some grace, so as not to scare the geriatric cat), walking over, “Oh, I hope she remembers me.” you frowned, kneeling down and offering your hand to her.

“Of course she’ll remember, she yelled at me for a good three months at Aegon’s when we were without you.”

Vhagar sniffed your hand for a good minute before blinking her sleepy, lazy eyes at you, then promptly rubbing her scraggly cheek fur on your hand. You were elated, scratching her cheeks, hearing the tinkling of a little bell.

“A new collar?”

“Mhm, take a look.”

You swirled the collar around, looking for the name tag– only to find… a ring. An opal and moonstone ring. Your heart stopped in your chest as you stared at Aemond.

“I would get down on one knee– I was intending on you coming home and Vhagar running to you and then you finding it… but she’s on me, and I can’t get up. Cat rules,” he mused, unclipping the collar from her neck and slipping the ring onto your finger. “I know we’ve only been dating for… a month and a half, so stop me if it’s too soon.” he grinned, his toothy smile.

Vhagar gave a croaking meow, promptly jumping off of Aemond’s lap. As soon as the old cat was off, you threw yourself at Aemond, blubbering. “This… this…” you sniffed, unable to form words.

“Just so there isn’t any confusion… will you marry me?” he asked, wiping your tears away with his thumb.

“Yes, yes– I will,” you sniffle, burying your face in his chest and sobbing.

He let you sob on him, getting his shirt all snotty and wet, all while smiling.

After crying for at least ten minutes, you manage to take a picture, sending it to the group chat, with the caption: “I think we should add him to the chat now, guys.”

Ding.

“Is this group chat named ‘Aemond sucks’?”

#aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond x fem!reader #aemond #aemond one eye #hotd fic #aemond fanfic #aemond fluff #aemond smut #modern aemond smut #modern aemond #aemond targaryen smut #hotd smut #aemond angst #my writing

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sanspuppet · 6 months

Text

Horny thought about San (because he drives me nuts and i want to suck his dick so bad, yep, that’s it.)

W/T: explicit content

not proofread

[the end was the cause of all this fucking thought btw]

———

San’s breath grows more desperate as you keep swallowing his length till its tip hammers the back of your throat. Saliva escaping from your overworked mouth, your eyes squeeze when your body starts to shake, needy to take breath again. His fat cock’s making you choke, forcing you to pull away as you uncontrollably start coughing. San’s hands are caressing your hair, smirking at the sight of your red cheeks and wet chin. “So fucking good for me, taking this big dick inside your little mouth” you can’t help but smile, your heart flutters as he leaves a small peck on your forehead. You give a kitten lick on his cockhead, before taking his dick again inside your throat, head moving forwards and backwards as your tongue keeps licking the underside of his length. San’s mind feels blank, can’t think at anything but how perfectly you’re sucking him off. Lust and pleasure are too hard to handle, reaching his core as the only thing he wants and begs for is to cum. Fuck, how good can you take him? well, quite obvious knowing that you use to suck the shit out of him almost every night. You stare up at him, his eyes barely looking back at you, too fucked out to even pay attention. You try to make him regain his reason, by talking to him. Your palm holding his balls, leaving another lick at the tip of his cock, you chuckle when he groans desperately right after that. “Come on daddy, cum on my face, i know you want to” San suddenly looks down at you, his hand now pulling your hair back, your instinct making your mouth hangs open, tongue sticking out waiting for him. His other hand’s now stroking his cock at a speed that only his fucking muscular arm can reach. “Fuck, so close, nnghh, yeah take this cum, my beauty” You keep looking at his face when you finally feel wet ropes hitting your cheeks and nose, mouth trying to swallow what landed on your tongue. What you can hear is the sound of his pretty loud moans followed by the squelching sound his overstimulated dick makes when stroked like he’s doing. San lets his arms fall at his side, trying to cover from that dazzling orgasm. He opens his eyes again when his breath is regular again. He smirks at the sight of you: “Your face looks even prettier like this” he holds your chin as he starts to lick away his own cum off of you, his warm tongue tracking wet lines over your face, sending shivers down your spine. San moves then his thumb on your lower lip, rubbing it gently. He stares one more time at your hazy eyes, before spitting into your mouth. He immediately smiles when you swallow without any hesitation, his palms squeezing your soft cheeks. “What a nice girl, imma make sure you’ll get pleasured as well.”

oops didn’t think it’d get so long

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bluerosefox · 1 year

Text

The (Not) Normal One...

I LOVE the stories where Danny is deaged and later found by one of the bats and taken in as a son or he's Bruce's bio son and is either Damian's twin or half brother or little/big brother BUT I don't see a lot of reborn/reincarnated Danny into the batfamily (I can think of two but one of them he is Dick's son?clone?somewhat clone? And the other is an amazing story where Danny is reborn as Jazz and Jason's kid and I love it to bits)

So let's change that a bit and have some fun.

Here's the idea

Danny, either from finally aging to his death (it was slow and long aging but he is still partly human too don't forget that) or dying at the hands of GIW (or by his parents if we go the Bad!Fentons route), is reborn into the batfamily.

He could either be Bruce and Selina's kid after they finally tie the knot, or be a one more attempt by Ra's or Talia to get the heir they want but is immediately found out when Tim notices certain labs active and they find baby Danny. OR Danny can be an oops baby to Bruce's one night stands OR one of the batboys baby. EITHER WAY, Danny is reborn into the family from the start.

And he has his memories. (He has little hints of his powers btw, they dont fully come in until his 14th bday)

And his new family all swear to give him a proper and happy childhood (as best as they can seeing how it's Gotham)

Only I want Danny milking being a baby then toddler/kid and later a teen for all its worth. He's going to enjoy this new life with everything he gots.

Like imagine the chaos and shenanigans he gets into as a toddler. He's the king of hide-and-seek. He uses his tears to get away from whoever annoys him. He's mastered the puppy dog look to get away with things (it holds no effect on Alfred though, man is immune to all tricks).

But then of course there's the... odd things that happen around him. Sometimes they catch him talking to no one. Sometimes they spot a ball or a toy rolling to Danny despite him not touching it. Sometimes they think they see or hear someone in the room with Danny only to go busting in to find nothing. (One time someone busted his nursery door down they heard on his baby/toddler monitor the distorted voice of a woman singing him a lullaby (it was Martha who was soothing him to sleep after a tiny nightmare, boy was Bruce not ready for one of his kids to hum the tune in the morning)).

Danny asking for an extra drink and the newspaper after Bruce is done before he runs off to one of the many sitting rooms the manor has. There he leaves the drink and the newspaper near a chair, hops into another chair nearby and chats to someone (they all think its his imaginary friend but that honestly doesn't explain why the drink seems to slowly disappear without anyone touching it. (btw its Thomas, Danny is talking to they like chatting in the morning)

OR when Danny gives hints to cases his family is working on, how he knows? No one knows. Sometimes they chalk it up to a kid randomly saying stuff or seeing it from a different simple outlook but sometimes it seems a little too on the nose and they think Danny might know about their night jobs... (He does know, but he gets some info from Lady Gotham who visits him and gives him little hints to pass onto her fav Knights)

Basically what I want is a reborn Danny trying to get a decent childhood/teenage years before his powers kick in full swing, his family trying the same but they got no idea about the powers (maybe), and ghosts like to visit Danny. The shenanigans that follow will be amazing.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #dp x dc #blue rambles #batman #crossover #writing ideas #random idea #danny phantom dc #dp x dc crossover #Lady Gotham is a regular visitor to the manor since day 1 #Danny respects the heck out of her and drops everything to chat with her when she comes over #it confuses the others when suddenly he stops playing with them and goes to sit in random places and speak to the air #he has to be sneaky about the talks once he's older cause he really doesn't wanna be seen as crazy though #Martha and Thomas still 'live' at the manor but aren't strong enough to really show themselves #that starts changing with Danny around #his natural halfa state and powers kinda fill the space/manor with more ectoplasim #One time Danny got lost or kidnapped but escapes with Lady Gotham's help who shields him the entire time he's on the run #again Danny does have powers but they are no where near powerful yet #at most he can disappear from sight for a bit #phase into walls if he really tries #and floats in the air for a bit #if he's in danger there is a chance he can tap into the stronger stuff however #He may had frozen Joker into place when the clown went after him and triggered his fear when he was a toddler #the batfamily really want to let Danny have a childhood and are willingly ignoring some of the weird stuff #but sometimes things get a little too weird #they think he might be a budding meta though #is this silly? yes #do I want this to be a thing? Heck yeah #reborn danny

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soft-mafia · 8 months

Text

14 Days [Buggy x Reader]

warnings: fem reader, smut, cream pie, pussy slapping, not proof read oops, blue balling

a/n: I genuinely need more motivation bc work is kicking my assssssss😭I found that writing in kind of a half fic half headcanon style is much easier when I’m having a hard time writing out really detailed fics, so I might try this until I get some fuel back. I imagined this to be OPLA Buggy but I’m pretty sure this can work for anime/manga Bug too!

• Buggy had some berries to spare, so he blew it all on his own little private island. It wasn’t anything special, a small desolate island with a single cabin right in the middle of the forest. He figured he could surprise you with it, chill there for a couple of days with all the privacy you two could ask for.

• After arriving on the island, bringing a bag of some belongings with you, Buggy left Cabaji and Mohji in charge of the crew for the time being(which still managed to cause a fight between the two). He’d promise to send them a carrier bat when he was ready to be picked up.

• Buggy told himself only two days.. how that turned into two weeks was beyond his knowledge.

Y/n was sitting in front of the campfire that she and Buggy had built, she was wrapped up in his coat, staring into the flames until Buggy’s footsteps crunched up behind her. He kneeled down, then sat with her in between his legs, strong arms wrapped around her from behind. Y/n smiled and leaned into his embrace, leaning back and resting her head against his bicep.

“This is kind of nice actually.” Y/n said softly. Buggy looked down at her, a soft smile on his face, “See? I told you!” He chuckled, holding her closer and resting his chin on her shoulder, cheek pressed into the crook of her neck, “I told you I’d make some time for you.”

His long blue hair was down from its usual pony tails, letting it drape down his shoulders and back. Buggy tilted his head so he could place a kiss on Y/n’s nape, his stubble scratched against her skin lightly and gave her subtle goosebumps. “Mm.” She let out a soft moan at that action, earning a grin out of him, and more kisses trailing up her neck. He then brought a hand up to brush her hair back so he could kiss behind her ear.

He tilted her face towards him, then leaned in so that their lips could connect, he held the side of her face. Y/n tilted her head so his nose couldn’t get in the way and ruin the moment for him, their lips molded against each other, both of them letting out quiet noises with each smack of the lips.

Buggy let out a quiet, breathy groan as he turned, still keeping their lips centimeters apart as he slowly got on top of Y/n, laying her down onto the blanket they were sitting on, his jacket that was draped around her shoulders was now sprawled out around her, giving her a soft cushion for her to lay on. Once she was on her back he continued to kiss her, his hands moving up and down her waist. She wrapped her arms around his neck, one of her hands holding the back of his head so she could get a grip of his hair and run her fingers through his scalp.

Buggy then worked on taking his belt off and pulling his pants below his hips, as well as taking off Y/n’s shorts. They breathed against each other into the kiss, their breaths hot. Buggy began to hump Y/n through his boxers to get some friction going, holding onto her hips firmly. He let out breathy grunts rhythmic to his thrusts, one arm came up to rest beside of Y/n’s head to balance himself, hand on top of her head to gently pet her.

Y/n moaned, tilting her head back as she felt Buggy’s hard bulge humping through her panties. Buggy looked into her eyes, letting out a quiet, growly chuckle under his breath, “That’s it, baby..” he whispered, his voice gravelly and low.

Buggy sat up for a moment and yanked his boxers down to free his cock, it bobbed out freely, he then took two fingers to move Y/n’s panties to the side so he could slide his cock in. They both let out deep moans and groans. Buggy held Y/n’s waist as she arched her back snd whimpered, feeling him deep into her belly, “Mmmm.. f-fuck..” she breathed out. Buggy licked the corner of his mouth, thrusting forward and letting out a deep grunt when he pushed in deep, “There we go.” He chuckled before leaning back down to his previous position, still keeping a hold on Y/n’s waist to steady her. He buried his face into the crook of her neck again, his nose pressing up behind her ear as he licked and sucked on her neck, stubble scratching against her skin but it added to the sensation.

Buggy’s fluff of pubic hair tickled Y/n’s clit, making her tremble and mewl, “Aaahhh.. hhahh~” she whimpered breathily, Buggy growled and let out guttural moans as he thrusted, plowing into her. Y/n held onto his shoulders, wrapping her legs around his hips. Buggy grit his teeth, letting out grunts and strained breaths as he thrusted his hips faster and rougher, chasing that orgasmic feeling, “Fuck, baby..” he grumbled into her neck, making her shiver and moan out.

He sucked in a breath through his teeth and let out a growl, hips stammering a bit, but he gained his rhythm with a shaky grunt, “I’m so fucking close.” He growled, bringing his other hand up now so he could hold Y/n’s head, pressing theirs lips together once more in another heated makeout session as they both came to their orgasms.

Y/n was squirming, trembling around Buggy, whimpering throughout the kiss. Buggy laughed, tilting his head back before grunting roughly and thrusting deep, then pulling out quickly to spill his seed onto her stomach, painting her little belly with fat ropes of his thick cum. They were both panting heavily, Buggy held the base of his cock and gently rubbed his tip over Y/n’s clit, spreading her juices around. Y/n looked down at Buggy’s cum on her stomach, then looked up at him through her lashes.

Buggy’s hair draped down either side of his face like curtains, to which he flipped to the side before giving her another wet kiss on the lips.

• Afterwards, Buggy carried you back to the cabin to clean up, wrapping you up in his jacket like a little cocoon.

• He gave you a warm bath, hand feeding you cherries and other small fruits, finding the way the fruit rested on your bottom lip as you bit into it, paired with the way you leaned over the rim of the tub, so innocent yet arousing none the less.

He sat on the lid of the toilet right beside the tub, he goofed around a bit with her, splashing her face with some of the water while she nagged him about bathing himself.

“Bath water isn’t gonna fucking kill you.” She teased, “You’ve literally been walking around this place shirtless in the same fucking pants ever since we got here.”

“It’s only our first day here, babe. And I changed my pants twice actually.” He stated, as if that made anything better.

“You’re sweaty.” Y/n rested her arms on the side of the tub. “So?” Buggy scoffed, his elbows on his knees.

“Get your ass in this god damn tub.”

• The majority of the time spent on this island consisted of fucking, and goofing around, but mostly fucking. This had actually been the most times you two have had sex, and you two have sex a lot.

• Buggy literally lost track of reality inside of your pussy, 2 days became 4 days, and then that became a week.

• His crew began to get worried, their captain had promised to send them a heads up to come and get them after two days.. but what gives?! Was there some strange creature lurking on the island that killed Captain Buggy and his girlfriend?

Buggy sat on his knees on the bed, grunting softly as he pulled his shirt over his head to reveal his bare torso, fluffy chest hair that connected perfectly to his happy tail, all the way down to his belt line, it didn’t take long for him to wrangle his pants and belt off and toss them away.

Y/n was rubbing her finger over her clit, being a bit impatient while Buggy undressed— until he quickly snatched her hand away and gave her pussy a few good slaps, “Hey. I didn’t say you could touch.” He mumbled, sending an aroused chill through Y/n’s body, right down to her pussy which made her thighs press together instinctively.

She let out a giggle as Buggy forced her legs open again. He laughed under his breath after smacking his lips together, “Little tease aren’t ya?” He mumbled before motioning her to sit up and come to him with his hands, she quickly sat up and crawled over to him, the bed squeaking slightly underneath her. Buggy grabbed her chin and tilted her head so he could kiss her, licking over her bottom lip before taking it into his mouth, sucking on it until it was swollen before kissing her again.

Buggy hadn’t shaved in a while, so kisses were more rough, but Y/n adjusted pretty quickly, it added to the sensation when he ate her pussy.

Buggy leaned against the headboard and spread his legs out, letting Y/n come closer to straddle his lap. He slung his arms around her shoulders as they kissed again, he held the back of her head as she began to grind her pussy against his shaft, making him groan deeply. She whimpered into the kiss.

This was probably the 3rd time they’ve had sex today, the room smelled like cum and sweat, Y/n still had loads leaking from her pussy from previous rounds, pussy sore and still clenching, her mind completely fucked out.

Buggy just couldn’t get enough; he was having the time of his life right now. He was about to guide her hips onto his cock until—

“Captain?! Captain?!” The sound of the door breaking down, followed by Cabaji’s concerned voice along with the murmurs and voices from other crew members.

Buggy grunted and quickly stood up, “Wha- shit. Why the fuck are they here?!”

Y/n squeaked lightly as she was accidentally pushed back by Buggy standing up so suddenly, rushing to put on his boxers, “Probably because we’ve been here for two weeks, maybe!” She huffed, watching Buggy stumble to pull his underpants up.

The door to the bedroom was kicked down, “Captai—..!” Mohji shouted, about 4 crew mates were crammed into the door way. Buggy nearly fell over, trying to cover up his still exposed dick, “GET OUT!! GET OUT!!” He looked a wreck, his long blue hair tangled and messy, covered in sweat.

Y/n had covered up her body with a blanket, eyes wide and embarrassed.

“GET BACK TO THE DAMN SHIP WE’LL BE THERE IN A MINUTE!! DAMMIT!!” He detached one of his arms to shove everybody out of the doorway and slam the door in their faces, the sound of muttered grunts and curses from Buggy could be heard by the pirates from inside the room.

Buggy was blue balled, and grumpy as he made his way back to the Big Top with you. He didn’t want his crew to saw a damn thing, silencing all of them once he set foot back on the deck.

• Over time, trips to the island became more frequent once you two got a schedule going.

• Whenever you two had some free time to spare, you’d go on little vacations to this island for 3 weeks before the crew came to pick you guys up.

• Buggy got to do 3 of his favorite things during your little vacations; eat, drink, and fuck the shit out of you.

#one piece #one piece buggy #buggy one piece #buggy the clown #buggy x reader #buggy the clown x reader #buggy headcanons #buggy imagines #one piece headcanons #one piece imagines #one piece smut #buggy smut #opla #buggy opla #jeff ward #fem reader

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luna0713hunter · 1 month

Text

Wonder If She Loves Me

⊰⊹its 3 in the morning and Izana misses you.

˙❥˙ warnings : breakup,makeup, hurt/comfort, angst with happy ending

♫♪ music : Wonder if she loves me By JVKE

a/n : maybe this got too angst...oops? Hope you enjoy it tho, darling @milky-aeons

It's 3 in the morning and Izana can't sleep.

He's been staring at his ceiling for the past 2 hours or so (honestly he has lost the track of time),and something interesting about the cracks on the walls has his eyes wondering over to them every five minutes. his throat is slightly aching, but he cant really bring himself to get up and have a glass of water;so he just lays there,with his violet eyes wide open and his hands clamps over his chest. Usually,on these kind of nights,he would busy himself scrolling through his phone.

Not tonight though.

It's been a whole week since Izana had checked his phone; he's sure it's death already,but that's for the best. He doesn't need to look at his phone because there are only pictures of you greeting him.

He doesn't need a reminder of you.

But as time goes by,and the clock keeps ticking,Izana lets out a loud groan and pulls his pillow from under his head,and pushes it against his face;he desperately tries to stop himself from reaching out for his phone. To unlock it and find your contact.

To push a single button and call you, but he cant.

Because Izana is too much of a burden,and he knows that you deserve way better. You,who has the heart of gold,smile brighter than the sun,and gods above,your eyes-

Izana misses you. But he can't do anything about it;after all,he was the one who pushed you away. He was the one who suggested you two take a break. And like a coward he is,he just holed up inside his house for a week,not bothering to go outside or talk to anyone. But as each minute goes by, Izana's eye twitches more-

He reaches over and takes his phone.

Its dead,as expected;and he has to wait until the screen is lightened up again when he plugs it in. There are lots of missed calls and texts from his friends,and its a wonder that none of them have brought the door down already. They probably know he's not in the mood and just let him be for awhile. As Izana's scrolling down his texts,his phone vibrates in his hands and upon seeing the ID,he answers it with a sigh.

"What is it,Kakucho-"

"You have some balls to talk like that,Izana. I was about to grab an axe from the storage and knock your door down." Kakucho sounds mad. Izana doesnt understands why, "you've been ignoring our calls and texts all week. You've had all of us worried sick!we didn't know if you were death or alive or-"

"Why?"

"Huh?"

"Why have you been worried?"

There's silence on the other side,and the Kakucho sighs. Izana can particularly see him pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut.

"Stop with that. You know we..." Another pause. "..care about you." Kakucho finishes awkwardly.

And Izana doesnt get that; because all his life,no one's ever cared about him. Not when his own mother abounded him. Not when his older brother died and left him all alone.

And there's you.

Izana didn't know he loved you well pasted your friendship. He always though its just a friendship thing;like how he doesn't mind having Kakucho around. But as time passed by,he understood he didn't just like having you around;he wanted you all to himself. He wanted to call you his;to hold your hand and hear your sweet laughter. To be the reason for your every smile,and protect you just like how he always wished to be protected.

But now you're gone,and its his fault.

"Is this about y/n?" His friend's voice brings him back to the reality.

Because Kakucho could always read him like an open book.

So he rolls over,and lays on his side;his eyes have long adjusted to the darkness,and the faint light coming from the clock on his bedside has him staring at the staring at the small picture frame that's sitted upon it;a picture of you when he had taken you on a ride for the first time. You're grinning so brightly in the picture; your hair is slightly tousled and your cheeks are flushed. The sky is sunny behind you,but your smile is brighter than any star. He stares at the picture until its craved on his mind,and when he closes his eyes,he can see your face behind his eyelids.

"Izana..." Kakucho's voice is softer this time, "call her. You know she loves you."

"I was the one who suggested this. I broke her heart."

"She understands."

"She deserves better." And at last,after a week long of staring aimlessly at the pictures on the wall,Izana finally grits out the thought that hunted his every waking moment and sleep.

Because it was true;you deserved someone better.

That's why Izana did this;why he broke your heart. Why he invited you over to your favorite cafe and when you were laughing about something silly that your friends did,he blurted out those words.

"Let's break up."

And he had given himself a moment to admire you one last time;to see how your face had crumbled,and your pretty smile had suddenly vanished completely. He waited and felt that sickening twisted in his heart;like a knife had dug itself deep in his chest. But he was sure a knife wound would've hurt less than the defeated look on your face.

He hadn't waited for you to ask why; because he couldn't tell you the reason. He couldn't bring himself to tell you how much you mean to him, but you deserve someone who's not so broken and obsessed with revenge.

So Izana had left;had rode home, feeling absolutely nothing. He had turned off his phone,and buried himself under his covers.

It's 3:15 am,and gods above,he misses you.

As if sensing his every thought, Kakucho breaks the heavy silence.

"Call her,Izana." And with that,he hangs up.

Izana listens to the silence before opening his eyes once again. He stares at the too bright screen of his phone,but he's just lost in the picture of the two of you as his wallpaper. The smiling face of his own face feels alien,but your blinding one is all too familiar.

The picture is months old,his favorite one yet,but it feels like he'd taken it yesterday.

The day he'd asked you to be his girlfriend,he had promised you he'll always protect you. You had laughed,called him your hero with a cheeky grin,and kissed him softly.

He had promised you to be a better man in his heart,but he was always good at breaking his promises.

But now,as he stares at your contact,and the clock shows 3:30 am,his finger hovers over the 'call' button;he knows you're sleeping. You dont have any reason to dwell over someone like him. Because he's a rotten soul,and he knows it fully well. But he can hear your voice telling him he's wrong;that you love him no matter what. He can see you frown,your beautiful eyes shining sadly as you cup his cheeks and kiss his forehead.

He can still feel the ghost of your lips on his skin.

Izana sighs and closes his eyes;he drops the phone on the mattress beside his head,the screen laying down. Like this,he can't see your smile on on his phone. Like this,blinded by the light of his phone,he can't momentarily see the picture frame on his bedside.

Like this,he can pretend you never existed;that he was all alone since day one.

But that's impossible. Stupid even; because the day you entered his life with your smile and understanding eyes,Izana hasn't been alone ever since. And now that you're gone, there's a hole in his heart;right in the middle of it where you belonged. No, that's not right.

There's a hole where his heart used to be,and the day he left you in that cafe,he clawed his heart out and left it with you there.

There's a hole in izana's chest that he knows will never be filled.

His room is quiet, eerily so. So when his phone starts vibrating right next to his face,his eyes snap open.

He's ready to tell Kakucho off;that he doesn't need to call you and ruin your life any further. He's ready to yell at his only friend,and then shut off his phone and never turn it back on again.

But when he turns his phone over and is ready to press the 'answer',he sees the ID.

Your name, along with the heart emojis you'd insisted he put beside it,makes him stare at the too bright screen until his eyes are burning.

Its almost 4 in the morning. There's no way you're calling him.

Maybe its just a dream;he hasn't slept well these past few days,always tossing and turning until the dawn. Maybe he'd fallen asleep the minute Kakucho had hang up. He's sure he's dreaming, because you're supposed to forget all about him;to move on with your life and forget someone as rotten as him.

Izana's sure he's dreaming.

He presses the 'answer' button.

There's a moment where neither of you say anything;he can hear the sound of your trembling breathing,and he closes his eyes. It must be a dream;his worst nightmares. That you always call,but doesn't say anything and he has to suffer through it knowing you will never talk to him ever again.

"... Izana?"

His eyes snap open.

"Iza...?are you there?"

And Izana doesn't know what to say; this isnt like any dream or nightmare he ever had. Usually, in his dreams,he watches you suffer because of his selfishness;cryin, bleeding.

Dying.

But now,as he hears your soft and gentle voice (always so caring with him),he knows he's not dreaming.

That its 3:47 am,and you've actually called him.

"Yeah," he chokes out, "yeah, I'm here."

At that,you let a shaky exhale and grow quiet.

"I-... I'm sorry I called at this hour.you were probably sleeping."

"I wasn't."

"You.. weren't?"

Izana laughs breathlessly. Bitterly.

"No,i wasn't." His fingers play with a loose thread on his sheet, "why..."

"I never got the chance to ask why, Iza." Your voice sounds broken,hurt. Izana wants to rip his heart out;maybe bleeding hurt less than hearing your broken tone, "was it...was it something i did?i wasn't good enough?"

And gods above,he was never so tempted to kill himself in his whole damn life.

Because,how even for a second did you think that you were the problem?

That you were anything but perfect?

"No baby, no" and Izana hates how his voice shakes; his body trembling because he doesn't have the right to act this way when he was the one who broke your heart, "it was never you. How could you think that?"

"But you left," Izana squeezes his eyes when your first sob comes out, "and didn't even tell me why."

And this is his punishment,Izana thinks;to listen to your muffled sobs at 4 in the morning and not being able to reach out. To comfort you,to hold you close and tell you how sorry he is.

Because Izana is a rotten, rotten man. He doesn't deserve someone like you.

"Iza," you say between your sobs, "its been a week and you didn't call. Kakucho-kun said he couldn't get a hold of you. I was worried sick!" When your voice cracks, Izana clenches his fist so tight his knuckles turn white.

Even after a whole week of suddenly breaking up with you and not even bothering to tell you why,you still worry about someone like him.

"Babe, listen to me." His voice is calm,if not slightly shaky, "nothing was ever your fault,i just..."

"Then why?"

You sound so small. Izana can see you burying your face in your pillow;your tears already soaking through the sheets.

"Because," he chokes slightly;voice cracking, "babe...i..."

He takes a deep breath.

"You deserve so much,much better.i couldn't have done that to you."

You're quiet. You don't even breath.

Izana shuts his eyes and sighs.

"Y/n...baby doll,you were everything to me;my whole life,my only reason for living. But..." And Izana doesn't cry,he doesnt. But his eyes burn and his throat is closing up, "but i had to let you go."

"So you gave up on me. On us?"

"I never gave up on you. But i couldn't -"

"Iza," you softly cut him off, because that's all you've ever been with him;too gentle,too caring, "the things that's going on in your head,i cant stop them. But babe...i love you so much."

"I'm broken."

"No one's perfect,darling." You tell him. Ever so patient, "broken or not, you're still my Izana. And i..." He can feel you biting your lips, "still love you too much to let you go.."

And for the first time in the entire week,he thinks he can breath a little better.

"I love you too." He whispers,eyes glued to your pictures frame.

"Then..lets try again?" There's a hesitation in your voice,a slight quiver. "This time,no hiding secrets though,alright?"

And Izana smiles,for the first time in forever and nods.

"Deal." Then he glances at his digital clock, "can i...come over?"

"Its 4:15 am,babe." You sound surprised;like he hasn't done this before. Izana rolls his eyes, "dont you wanna sleep?"

"I cant sleep without you in my arms. Please?"

And when you giggle, although voice slightly hoarse from all the crying,his grin widens more.

"I take that as a yes." But even before saying that, he's already grabbing his jacket and keys,and rushing out the door toward his motorcycle.

"Be careful!!"

And your laughter,makes him let out a laughter on his own;how could he ever,even for a second,think he could let you go?

Oh,he has a lot to makeup for.

#izana kurokawa x reader #tokyo revengers izana #izana kurokawa #izana x reader #tokyo revengers x reader

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when-pigsfly · 22 days

Text

// hello, neighbor

modern day arthur morgan x female reader. mdni. voyeurism (oops), masturbation (m & f). reader is in college. brought to you by: my phone! again!

“with the blinds open?”

“...with the blinds open.”

a two-way confessional on the campus plaza turns into a harsh spotlight the second the admission leaves your lips, though you suspect that the heat would have driven you down this road at some point.

the next page you turn in your textbook is a little harsher than necessary, and you take the slight tearing noise as a sign to shut it. you could hardly focus enough to digest it, anyway. you turn to your friend, their work long since abandoned next to the half-empty bottle of soda gone flat.

"i mean," and you pause, trying to build your next sentences with the utmost care. "it doesn't seem like he's got malicious intent. he's...he's a nice guy, you know?"

"did you come to that conclusion before or after you caught him jacking off with the blinds open?"

before, without a doubt. you're not sure you can bring yourself to dislike someone who'd helped muscle your furniture up four flights of narrow stairs.

running into arthur morgan on the street that day had been the closest you've come to justice in a while. he hadn’t made an offer to help—just pulled the cardboard boxes right from your arms and told you to point him in the direction of your apartment door, and you’d said yes, because the shame of knowing he’d seen you struggle for the last hour had been too much to bear.

after the first trip up, your reprieve turned to torture. not because of the tremor in your thighs, or the burn in your lungs, but something far more sinister: the trail of hair dipping into the waistband of his jeans. the rivulets of sweat dotting the back of his neck. the flex of his back each time his grip shifts to accommodate the weight of the boxes.

his cheeks, flushed with a pretty scarlet, had deteriorated any semblance of self-preservation you could ever buy off of amazon (pepper spray was getting rather expensive), and the lopsided smile he’d given you—a meek little thing—nearly sent the glass of lemonade you’d poured for him sliding to the floor.

it was embarrassing. and more importantly, pathetic. but the only feeling with the balls to surmount your shame is that eager throb of unadulterated lust.

it’d only grown worse once you’d started pestering him with questions. turns out, he lived in the apartment right across the street from yours.

“s’only temporary, though. just till an acquaintance of mine gets back from overseas.”

temporary. that was fine. though, you do feel a little uncomfortable at the thought of fucking him in someone else’s apartment. not that you were planning on it. but…his “acquaintance” would have to have some heavy pockets though, right? so you find out one relatively non-invasive question later that arthur actually worked as a security guard—because of course he does.

you think it might have to do with the way his fingers drum against the cold countertop as he speaks. the sag of his t-shirt collar doesn’t help much either. but some harebrained part of you convinces your synapses to fire just enough to ask for his number.

to help with…appliances.

it only hits you after he leaves that working in security didn’t mean shit when it came down to appliance repairs, but you thank your lucky stars arthur was nice enough to hand over his number anyways.

from there it’s straightforward.

or, it should have been.

flirting doesn’t exactly fall under your area of expertise, but you do know how to observe. not stalk—that would be weird.

observe and observe only. just until you can work up the nerve to talk to him again.

arthur couldn’t seem to close the blinds, which made it a little easier. he was a creature of habit: he’d leave in the early morning, returning just after the sun sends the last of its rays to cascade down the walls of the building. he always seemed to return more weary than the day before, which did at least put your envy of the condominium complex to rest.

but you weren’t quite sure just what you were getting into until around two weeks after your move in.

your apartment is submerged in darkness when you finally manage to jiggle the key into the lock. the only source of light comes from the warm glow of arthur’s apartment, the sun to the moon of your window, spilling out over your desk and onto the floor.

changing out of your clothes is a quick and efficient affair, as per usual; an oversized shirt and underwear are all you can manage with the faulty air conditioning. you’re about to shut your blinds when you catch familiar skin.

your pulse is tapping out a strange rhythm in your throat.

no. he couldn’t be, could he? but that definitely was—

you clap a hand over your mouth with a shiver. creep just close enough to the edge of your window to avoid being spotted without losing your vantage point.

arthur is splayed across the couch, one leg draped over the side while the other remains bent on the cushions. you can see how you’d nearly missed it—he looks strangely relaxed.

but you’ve committed that flush in his cheekbones to memory. the rapid rise and fall of his chest. his eyes are pinched shut, and you trace down the length of his body to where his hand works in languid strokes over his cock.

oh god.

this was wrong on so many levels. but you can’t help the way your thighs rub together, or the pulsating heat of your cunt.

you slide your hand away from your mouth, snaking it lower and lower till you’re pushing aside the gusset of your panties, paying no attention to the angle of your wrist. your fingers find you already wet, clit throbbing with assured interest.

a moan snakes its way out of you as you follow the pace of arthur’s hand. he’s still pumping lazily on the couch, but his hips have begun to undulate in slow circles, punctuated by the occasional jerk.

fuck, this was getting bad. but you follow his lead, stopping when he stops, exhaling when he exhales, and there comes a point when mirroring him is no longer a conscious effort. a lock of hair falls over his sweaty forehead and you nearly cry; you’d have been able to brush it aside in a heartbeat. it only reminds you of how long it’s been since you’ve been touched by someone else like this.

you reach a fever pitch when the two of you begin to increase the pace, and you have to brace a hand against your desk for support. your eyes haven’t left arthur once. wouldn’t leave even after you catch that scrunch of his crooked nose, the tightening of his fist. but your eyes flutter when his head tips back, and his mouth falls open (so wide you can almost hear him in your ears), and shit, you think you’ll be right there with him—

—until fingers snap in front of your face.

you open your eyes. turn your head.

"hey, you good? you're drooling."

#EARLY MORNING HORNY!#don’t ask me how i got here #it’s a long story #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fanfic

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cupidjyu · 6 months

Text

good for you

jacob x reader (requested by the one and only @zzoguri!!)

the 3 times you and jacob could have had something more and the 1 time you actually did.

genre: best friends to lovers, university au, pining by mostly jacob, confessions, misunderstandings, mentioned exes, reader has abandonment issues oops, kissing for practice, cuddles, their love language is sleeping together, gentle kind understanding sweetie jacob notes: i hope you enjoy this !!! i loved writing this request!!! <33 and again, im sorry this took so long :( see you whenever i can! word count: 14.7k

“You’re a lifesaver,” You groaned once you noticed Jacob entering your dorm with a paper bag of freshly baked cookies in his hand. You jumped off your bed, slightly crumpling the endless papers of notes laid out across your sheets. Stumbling over to where he was staring at you with concern, you clung to his arm, cupped his face with one hand, and pressed an obnoxiously loud kiss on his cheek.

“Is it that bad?” He stared at you, unimpressed.

“Yeah?” You narrowed your eyes at him before snatching the bag from him and bounding back to splay out your bed.

“Didn’t you say that you were going to stop eating sugar? Yesterday?” He followed you further into your dorm. He set down all of his things and put back all of the clutter that was laid out on your table and the floor. He knew where everything went after the countless times he’s lounged around here.

“Okay but I cannot stay awake without sugar and I have an exam tomorrow,” You grumbled, gesturing for him to sit next to you. You turned back to your computer, rolling onto your stomach and scrolling through the endless slideshows to try to pretend like you were retaining any information. Frankly, you were more focused on the delicious cookies melting in your mouth.

He shrugged, silently reaching over and organizing your papers. He knew that you often got stressed when your environment was messy. You made no effort to keep it clean though because he always did it for you.

“And how was your day, Cobie?” You mumbled, glancing at him briefly before turning back to your notes, You shifted slightly on the bed, allowing him space to lie down next to you.

“Boring. And you shouldn’t be studying on your bed, you know. You always fall asleep.”

You huffed. “Just because you’re my best friend doesn’t mean you have to dote on me.”

“You know I’m right.” He smirked.

“I won’t, I promise.”

“But you always fall asleep. Like last time.”

You rolled your eyes, burying your face in your arms. “Stop bringing that up. It’s been five years already.”

“But I’ll never forgive you for embarrassing me in front of Sunwoo.”

“C’mon, you always let him tease you anyway,” You retorted.

Your eyelids threatened to shut any minute now. You had managed to find a spot to finally escape the stress that was called high school responsibilities. It wasn’t the most comfortable spot though–against the brick wall of the building, sitting on the concrete floor. Still, you couldn’t care less, enjoying the sun that perfectly hit the side of your face as your uniform fluttered in the wind.

After that point, you didn’t know what happened until you woke up. But Jacob had vividly described it to you because he found it that amusing. Though, he always told the story with a fond smile on his face.

“Can you pass the ball?” Another student called out to you. His uniform was messy and crinkled after playing with his friends for so long. When he noticed no response, he jogged over to pick up the soccer ball that rolled over and knelt down. He snickered slightly, tilting his head to peer at you curiously. “That can’t be comfortable…” He muttered.

Silently, he contemplated what to do. Ultimately, he stood up. Not to leave you, but to kick the soccer ball back to his friends. Then, he turned back to you and gently lowered himself down to your side. Almost immediately, like a magnet, your head found its way to his shoulder and you were already dozing away. This time, with a lot less neck pain.

His lips quirked up as he played with his fingers quietly. He ignored his friends who were gesturing to him in the distance to come back, instead choosing to lean closer so you could sleep more comfortably.

But then he heard footsteps approaching.

“Oh, shit!” Sunwoo gasped, slapping a hand over his mouth after appearing from around the corner of the same brick wall.

Jacob jumped, waving with his hands frantically to tell his friend to go away. But Sunwoo only began to jump up and down in excitement.

“Shhhh–” Jacob whispered. “They’re sleeping.”

“You’re dating someo–”

“I don’t even know who the hell this is.”

You smiled to yourself, long roused awake.

You had already heard the whole conversation but found it all too amusing so you ended up pretending to sleep for a few more minutes. Once you were sure that his friend had wandered off somewhere else, you blinked your eyes open. The curiosity got the best of you as you slowly lifted your head up to peer at the mysterious student’s name tag. He’s got an amazing shoulder for a pillow.

“That’s a bit rude, Jacob.”

He jolted once again, turning to you in surprise. You smiled lazily back at him.

“You’re awake.”

“Yeah,” You yawned. “And thanks for your shoulder but also I don’t thank you for not even bothering to look at my nametag.”

“Even if I knew your name, I wouldn’t know who you are.”

“Fair,” You hummed. You looked him over. He had a friendly look to him. Gentle eyes, a nice-looking smile, and brown tousled hair that shone in the sun. “You look like a Jacob.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He raised an eyebrow. “You do know that I gave up my soccer time to let you sleep on my shoulder, right?”

“Shush.” You stuck your tongue out. “It’s not like I forced you to. You’re just too nice with your super nice smile.”

“I can’t tell if you're insulting me or complimenting me.”

“Both.” You leaned your head back against the wall with a tired sigh. Then you turned back to him with a mischievous smile before setting your hand out for him to shake it. “Friends?”

He blinked at you. And then he smiled back and took your hand in his. “Friends.”

“I’m tired of this,” You whispered, thumping your forehead against your now-closed computer.

“At least look this over.” He held out one of your papers, with a title clearly underlined with red. “Looks important.”

“It is but—“

“Just one,” He encouraged. “I’ll hold it for you.” And just as he said, he shuffled closer to you, holding the paper for you to read. You sighed but obliged, your eyes scanning over the words. Gradually though, the sentences began to grow blurrier and more jumbled. His arm looked awfully comfortable right now.

“Jacob,” You warned, turning to him. He stared curiously, his face surprisingly close to yours. “Jacob, I’m gonna go.”

“Go where?” He furrowed his eyebrows.

“To sleep.” You grinned before slumping down. No longer were you propped up on your elbows. Instead, you laid down, your cheek squished against his forearm as you snuggled close to his body warmth.

You heard a disappointed yet fond sigh leave his lips. He put down the paper and cleared the bed of everything so you could properly cuddle up to his side.

“You always take care of me,” You mumbled quietly. “Why?”

And for some reason, even with your eyes closed, you could sense his soft smile—the one with the gentle gaze and warm cheeks.

“Because you deserve it.”

—

“You flunked it, didn’t you?” Jacob grinned, standing up from where he was leaning against the wall. “I told you to stop studying on your bed.”

You scowled, walking alongside him. “You shouldn’t have waited for me, I’m getting coffee with a friend.”

He smiled wider. “Right now?”

You froze, staring at him sheepishly. You shifted on your feet. “…no. But soon.”

He hummed. “Good, cause I’m giving you this.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a necklace. It was beautiful with an opal charm in the middle.

You stared at it with awe in your eyes and then turned your gaze up to Jacob. Already, you could feel tears prick your vision at which he only chuckled at the sight.

“Don’t cry,” He giggled, reaching an arm around you to pull you close to his chest.

“Why?” You pouted. “Did I miss my own birthday or something?”

“No,” He laughed. “I just wanted to give it to you. I thought of you when I saw it.”

You narrowed your eyes through sniffles before slapping his chest weakly. “How much was it?”

He shook his head. “It was on sale, so it was cheap.”

You nodded before lightly touching your own bare neck. You smiled at your best friend.

“I want to put it on,” You stated, reaching your hand out.

“Okay,” He whispered. But instead of placing the necklace in your palm, he stepped forward and reached his arms around your neck to clasp it on himself. He moved any strands of hair that were in the way, his fingertips just grazing over the back of your neck. You shivered and stayed completely still, staring straight ahead into his chest with wide eyes.

It felt like hours but he finally stepped back with a soft smile.

“I knew it would suit you.”

You beamed. Just before you were about to say anything else, you heard a voice call out your name. It was your friend, standing just meters away waving excitedly.

“I have to go,” You said, looking at Jacob with bright eyes.

“See you at your dorm?” He joked.

You thought for a moment before nodding. “Sure, I’ll bring ramen.”

“I was jok—“

“Still, I need my pillow to sleep on tonight.”

“My arm or my chest?” He lifted an eyebrow.

“Still deciding!” You called out, running towards your friend. You skipped over to her and immediately started rambling about your new necklace.

“It’s pretty!” She fawned. “Sometimes I think you’re actually dating.”

You gawked and immediately started laughing. “No! That’s— that’s so wrong.”

She blinked at you, completely confused.

“Have you seen the way he looks at you?”

It was stuck in your head–what your friend said. He looked at you like any completely normal person. He always had a friendly, caring expression on his face simply because that was his nature. There was nothing different and nothing more in your relationship except friendship.

You couldn’t focus on that anymore though since you were now caught up in a game of truth or dare. After exams, the whole floor of your dorm decided to gather for a party. You hated going alone and so of course, you had to bring Jacob.

The two of you tried to sit together on the floor but quickly became separated by the amount of people crowded into one room. You frowned, settling onto the floor next to two complete strangers.

Help me, You mouthed to him.

He shrugged. Wanna leave? He mouthed back.

You shook your head. This will be fun.

He nodded and turned his attention back to the bottle spinning in the middle of the circle, about to choose its first victim. It slowly came to a stop, landing on a guy who you remembered his name to be Sangyeon. He was nice. He once let you borrow his umbrella.

“Truth or dare?” Eric leaned excitedly.

“Dare.”

“I dare you to… text the person you have a crush on and ask them out on a date!”

Sangyeon’s eyes widened in horror. Reluctantly, he pulled out his phone and soon, it was like the whole population was crowding around him, cheering giddily when Sangyeon began to text a message.

You locked eyes with Jacob who’s across the room, obviously out of place. You smiled with amusement and silently shuffled over to him.

“I don’t get this game,” He grumbled.

“You don’t get any fun. You only like soccer and basketball since you’re so good at it.” A familiar image appeared in your mind of Jacob, left only in the white dress shirt of his school uniform, wiping sweat off his forehead as he easily shot a goal.

“Thanks.” Jacob grinned stupidly.

“I wasn’t complimenting you.”

“Alright.” He eyed you skeptically. “So can we please not get separated again?”

“We can try,” You mumbled. Without a warning, your hand trailed down to his, grabbing hold of it and placing your intertwined hands in your lap. He stared at it briefly before clearing his throat and looking away.

“Is that the most effective way?” He muttered.

“I said I’d try,” You whined, your eyes traveling over to where the crowd around Sangyeon began to dissipate back into its circle. You were confident that no one would notice that you had switched places. But of course, Sunwoo, who was so adamant about going to the exact same college as Jacob because he “admires him so much” (he actually just wanted someone to pay for his meals occasionally), noticed your connected hands.

“No PDA!” He dramatically yelled, covering his eyes with his hands. Everyone immediately turned to look at the two of you.

Jacob immediately pulled his hand out of your grasp almost like you burned him. You groaned and glared at Sunwoo.

“And go back to your normal seat,” Sunwoo smiled teasingly. “Get off your boyfriend for just a minute.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” You gritted out, standing up and stalking back to your original seat. You plopped back down on the floor and stared at Jacob with clear anger in your gaze.

He’s annoying. You glanced at the smug boy who was still smiling proudly over the fact that he separated two perfectly normal best friends.

Tell me about it. Jacob rolled his eyes, leaning back against his palms as his eyes wandered down to where the bottle was spinning again. This time, it landed on the stranger next to you. He wasn’t bad-looking and had a polite aura to him.

Eric gasped excitedly. “Juyeon! Truth or dare?”

The man thought for a second, humming. His voice was deep, you realized.

“Dare?”

Almost instantly, Eric was leaning forward. He must have rehearsed this dare like his life depended on it. “Kiss the person on the left of you.”

It took Juyeon a while to process what Eric just said. But when he finally did, he whipped his head to look at you with wide eyes and flushed cheeks. You stared back, completely bewildered.

“That’s cruel,” You groaned, staring at Eric in disbelief. “We don’t even know each other that well.”

“Fine,” Eric huffed. “On the cheek at least.”

Juyeon continued to stare at you, his gaze gentle and understanding. “Sorry,” He whispered sheepishly. “I can’t drink this one off. I’m a huge lightweight.”

You shook your head with a kind smile. “It’s fine. Just get it over with.”

Juyeon nodded and he leaned in. You turned your head slightly so that he wouldn’t have to twist his neck in an awkward position. Just as you were about to focus on the lips being pressed to your cheek, your gaze locked with someone else’s. More specifically, Jacob’s.

Your breath hitched and your heart seized. There was something different about his gaze. It was filled with a flame and you could see that his jaw was clenched ever so slightly. His hands fidgeted as his eyes stared straight into yours, his eyebrows slightly furrowed.

It felt like time had slowed down. You watched as he leaned forward, propped his elbows on his knees, and tilted his head, obviously annoyed. Over what? You weren’t too sure. But you could see through the way his jaw tightened further that something was genuinely bothering him. Yet why was he only looking at you?

You were so focused on Jacob that you didn’t even realize that Juyeon was already pulling away.

Everyone in the room was cheering over the measly cheek kiss but it all felt silent to you. Your ears began to ring as you stared straight at Jacob, his eyes filled with a clear anger tinged with a small bit of hurt.

You tilted your head worriedly.

Are you okay?

He blinked, his eyes softening. It was like what came over him just magically disappeared. Yeah.

You stared at him quietly before nodding. One more and then we leave.

He eagerly agreed, his head bobbing much like a puppy’s. You huffed out a laugh. You should have never dragged him out with you.

“Who’s next?” Eric spoke up loudly. Everyone’s attention turned back to the bottle that was spinning. You held your breath watching as it slowly came to a stop. You turned your gaze up to see who it was pointing at and—

You winced.

Jacob stared at you with wide eyes before pointing at himself. You nodded with a grimace.

Sorry.

He shook his head with a smile before turning to face Eric who was practically brimming with excitement.

“Truth or dare?”

Jacob sighed. “Truth.”

Eric groaned. “Boring. But fine, I can make this fun.”

Jacob waited patiently. He was always patient—so patient that it annoyed you. You were always the one to tease and annoy him yet he took it like it was his sole job. Even if you could tell he was getting ticked off, he continued to smile and play along.

“Don’t you want to see my performance?” You twirled in your new outfit.

Jacob shook his head. “Not now, I have an art project due. You look pretty though.”

And you should have stopped there and said thank you. But instead, you continued to cling onto him and ramble in his ear.

At some point, in a flash of color, you knocked over the cup that Jacob used to wash his paintbrushes.

You watched in horror as it spilled over his painting. He only stared silently.

“I-I’m sorry, Cobie,” You whispered.

“It’s fine,” He muttered, standing up and picking up the soaking-wet canvas. “I’ll just go dry it off.”

You gulped, searching his face for any sort of frustration. He definitely looked disappointed but… nothing else.

“Wait.” You stopped him, your hand coming to his wrist. You promptly ignored the cold feeling of the water that spilled over your new clothes as well.“Are you mad? Let me make it up to you. I can do the whole project for you if you want.”

Jacob turned to you, his expression blank. But much to your surprise, his face softened into a reassuring smile, his gaze gentle and warm. He set the canvas down and stepped forward, pulling you closer in the process.

“No,” He whispered. “You make everything look more beautiful anyway.” He turned to look at where the canvas which was previously plain and gray, was now splashed with a mix of colors.

You frowned. “But—“

“I’m more mad that your new clothes are ruined.” He paused, stepping back and looking you over. Then, he scrunched his nose teasingly. “It was pretty.”

“Jacob,” You huffed. How could he be so unbothered by this? You ruined his project that he had been working on for days yet he was more worried over you? “This is not about me.”

His eyes sparkled.

“I can always make it about you.”

“Okay! I got one!” Eric exclaimed, sitting up. “If you could date anyone in this room, who would it be?”

Everyone fell silent, staring at Jacob like curious cats. You weren’t any different, desperately wanting to know his answer. Jacob never spoke about his dating life. In fact, whenever you asked him if he had a crush on anyone, he would immediately reply no.

Much to your dismay, he didn’t say a word. His lips were shut as he stared around the room like a deer in headlights.

“So?” Sunwoo pried.

Jacob gulped, his cheeks slowly turning red. And then his eyes landed on yours. When you stared back, he instantly tore his gaze away. But you quickly noticed a pattern. He would look at something, then back at you, at something else, and then back at you.

Your breath hitched.

Why are you looking at me?

He widened his eyes and adamantly stared at the floor instead. I’m not, You could see him whisper to himself. The two of you always had conversations across the classroom during your high school days, hence your great skill of reading lips.

Jacob, you have to answer.

I can’t—

“It’s Y/n isn’t it?” Eric finally spoke up, wiggling his eyebrows with a knowing look.

His head shot up and his eyebrows furrowed. “I didn’t even say anything.”

“You were looking.”

“No, I—“ He groaned, his cheeks reddening further by the minute. “I was looking because I always look for them. Not because I would date them.”

Sunwoo snorted. “Do you hear yourself?”

“What?”

“I always look for them.”

Jacob froze. And now, he refused to look you in the eye. “I…”

“Hey,” You spoke up with a frown on your face. “He doesn’t want to answer, let him off. It’s obviously not me.”

Jacob’s gaze wandered to yours. There was a sparkle behind his pupils this time, his lips parting as if he’d been keeping a secret all of his life.

“But it is you.”

You inhaled sharply. Tension filled the air, thick enough that even Juyeon stiffened next to you. Eric had grown quiet which was a very rare occurrence and Sunwoo’s jaw was dropped.

You forced yourself to shake out of your trance. Abruptly, you stood up and grabbed your things.

“We’re leaving.” You forced a weak smile. “Have fun!” You tried to wish a farewell but instead, your voice came out shaky.

You didn’t even need to look back. Jacob was always behind you.

The walk back to your dorm was painfully quiet. You walked down the hallway, your fists painfully clenched as you periodically squinted your eyes and tried to make any sense of what Jacob had just said. You were filled with a jumble of emotions–a wave of immoral anger for Eric to ask such a question to lead up to this situation in the first place, a relief that you finally escaped that tension-filled party, but most of all, confusion over the fact that Jacob, your best friend of multiple years, had just said he would date you.

When you finally reached your dorm, you took in a sharp breath before whipping around. Jacob, who was biting his lip nervously, came to a halt to stare at you almost in… shame. He refused to look you in the eye which began to annoy you, considering the fact that he kept on staring at you when asked that stupid question just previously.

With a frustrated huff, you walked forward, pinned the side of your forearm against his chest, and pushed him against the wall.

“Jacob, look at me,” You warned, your eyebrows furrowing.

He finally did a guilty look on his face much like a puppy’s. “What? And why’re you pinning me to the wall?”

You scowled. “Because.”

“Because?”

“Just shut up,” You groaned. “Did you mean it? What you said.”

He only gazed at you, completely calm. But something was different. His gaze didn’t just keep its place on your eyes. Occasionally, it would slip down to your lips.

You stepped forward, close enough that you could feel his body's warmth against. You tilted your head, trying to intimidate him. But still, he continued to stare at you like you were a bright flower in the midst of a gray landscape.

“Why aren’t you answering?”

“Because you told me to shut up.” A small grin appeared on his lips.

You groaned once again. “Please, just answer. Did you mean it when you said that you would date me? If so, then I…”

What were you going to say? You weren’t even sure yourself. Would you reject him? Or maybe consider changing the whole trajectory of your life?

But this wasn’t just about you. It was about your relationship which was what you feared most. If he said yes, then surely, your relationship would change. In what way, you didn’t know. But you were scared. A bit curious, but mostly terrified–terrified of losing him in some way.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a quiet sigh.

“Of course not.”

You blinked, looking at him in surprise.

He laughed. It was a weird laugh though–nervous, almost like he was still hiding something. But you chose not to dwell on it anymore.

“There was no one else I knew, so I just said you to get out of the situation,” He weakly joked. His eyes darted away.

“Oh,” You stuttered, stepping away and letting your arm fall from his chest. You felt a bit weak. Maybe it was from relief that you didn’t have to consider the possibilities if he said yes. “Yeah, I get it.”

“Mhm,” He hummed, his eyes softening. “You should get some rest. It’s dark.”

“Okay.” You smiled. But before he could turn away, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into a tight hug. As an immediate response, he pulled you closer by the waist though he let out a small, confused sound.

“What’s this for?” He squeezed you closer.

“I felt like it.” You nuzzled into his shoulder. Even whilst being surrounded by beer bottles and drunken peers, he still manages to smell good—like a warm cup of sweet tea. You pulled away and peered up at him. “Stay the night?”

He gulped, his eyes widening slightly. “T-to do what?”

You snorted. “To sleep of course. You’re the only one who helps me sleep, you know.”

He followed you inside though he was still hesitant. After the two of you changed into something more comfortable (Jacob even has a change of clothes and a toothbrush in your dorm), you climbed into bed and immediately rested your head on his chest.

“Are you sure you’re in the right state of mind?” He murmured, gently rubbing your side. “You won’t regret this tomorrow?”

You shook your head. “I didn’t drink at all tonight. Why’re you being so cautious all of a sudden?” You pouted. “We always sleep together.”

He hummed. “Just making sure.”

After what you said earlier?

You wouldn’t lie and say that you definitely felt a bit different about asking him to stay over. But he already said that it wasn’t a serious statement. You chose not to think about it any longer, instead choosing to just doze off into his warm embrace.

He was just your best friend. And a great pillow.

ii.

“I’m going on a date.”

You both hated and loved that phrase. You loved it because it left a thrilling, exciting feeling in your heart. But you mostly loathed it. It left your lips far too many times for your liking. The phrase never ended well. You’ve had a few relationships and obviously, they didn’t work out.

You put much effort into those relationships but never received the same amount. You were always regarded with a weirded-out stare or a quick roll of his eyes. But those were somehow on the higher end of the scale. At the lowest, was when you were insulted and pushed around. It was Jacob who first noticed.

“He’s hurting you.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, your fists clenching with denial. “But he apologized. He said he was just in a bad mood.”

Jacob frowned and took your hands in his, gently spreading your fingers to relax your fists. “No one in a bad mood should insult you or call you names.”

You gulped, tears starting to well up in your eyes. You knew that Jacob was right yet you were afraid of letting go of someone that held so many bright and fun memories.

“Love is hard,” You whispered.

“It is,” He sighed. “But I’m always here for you.”

You exhaled shakily. You ran through multiple scenarios and possibilities. Some of the imaginary outcomes were positive but most were negative.

“It’s your choice if you want to stay with him. But promise me that if you’re ever hurt, just come find me,” He spoke softly. His hand gently came up to your cheek and wiped a stray tear away. It was at that moment that you realized what true care felt like. It was in the way he never pushed you into making a choice. It was in the way he promised you that he would be there for you. It was in the way his fingertips brushed against your skin.

That was what true care was.

And because of that realization, the very next day, you appeared outside of Jacob’s dorm room with a proud smile on your face.

“We broke up.”

His eyes widened and you could tell he was searching your face for any trace of tears. “Did he–”

“No, I did.”

His expression melted into a softer one. “I’m proud of you.” His lips pulled into a soft smile as he pulled you into his dorm and hugged you to the point that you had to repeatedly shove him until he let go.

“With who?” Jacob looked up from his computer. He watched nonchalantly as you started discarding your coat and bag on his bed. It was normal for you to crash at each other’s dorms. It was so normal that some people had even assumed that you were roommates. That didn’t make sense since there’s only one bed.

You reached into your bag and started pulling out the outfit you chose. “This guy in my literature class. He asked me first and he seems sweet.” He had a kind smile and he was polite. He even helped you pick up your books when you clumsily dropped them on the floor.

He was almost like Jacob. Though Jacob could go to… concerningly high extents sometimes. He tended to drop anything, even if it was a glass cup if he noticed that you were hurt or upset.

But still, this man who asked you out seemed better than your other dates. It wouldn’t hurt to try.

Jacob nodded, turning back to his computer while you used his bathroom to change into your date outfit.

A few minutes later, you open the door and walk out. You don’t even bother to twirl or ask him about his thoughts as you were too busy digging through your bag for your wallet. But then you paused, interrupted by a sharp intake from none other than your best friend.

He was staring at you with his eyes round and his cheeks slightly colored. His gaze wandered down before coming back up to your eyes, his body utterly frozen.

“What?” You asked in confusion. “Does it look bad?”

“No!” He blurted out suddenly. He teared his eyes away, clearing his throat. “It’s just… different.”

You peered at him nervously. Why was he acting so weird? “In a good way or a bad way?”

“Good,” He breathed. He gave you a small yet sweet smile. “You look beautiful.”

“Oh.” Your frown quickly widened into a grin. “Thank you.”

After finally confirming that you did not forget your wallet, you took a seat beside Jacob on his bed. He used to be focused on his computer but it seemed that after you changed outfits, his eyes were darting elsewhere. He was losing his composure for some reason.

You let out a long sigh, rubbing your thighs with the palms of your hands. “Cobie, I’m nervous.”

He turned to you with a soft look in his eyes. He even shut off his computer, turning his undivided attention to you. “Why?”

You pouted as memories came flooding back of your past relationships. It was always you who was left alone, broken into pieces until Jacob came along to put you together and patch you up. After your failed dates, you began to lose confidence in being able to keep anyone in your life, even if it was someone as loyal as your best friend.

He always reassured you though.

“I won’t leave you.”

You laughed bitterly through your tears. “How do you know that?”

After disappearing for almost the whole day, Jacob finally found you, sitting in the dark corner of your closet. You remembered him crouching down next to you and tucking a tear-soaked strand of hair out of your face.

“Because I don’t think that in any universe or timeline, I could stand being torn away from you.” He smiled.

You frowned, blinking away the tears that continued to trail down your cheeks. “Even if I’m undesirable?”

He looked at you taken aback. “Who told you that?”

“Him,” You whispered. Another one of your past dates that didn’t end well. When you had asked him why—why he didn’t want you, he began to list heart-wrenching words that still spun in your head. “He wouldn’t even hug me back because I’m undesirable or whatever.”

And in just a second, you felt a pair of strong arms being wrapped around you.

You inhaled shakily.

“You’re hugging me.”

He hummed and nodded, placing a hand on the back of your head to pull you in closer if that was even possible.

“Because you’re not undesirable. I will always want to hug you. And care for you. And lo—“

He cut himself off. You were too exhausted from crying to figure out what he was going to say anyway.

“Just because,” You sighed. “It’s been so long since I started dating again. What if I mess up?”

“You won’t,” He immediately replied. “You’ll do amazing. Just be yourself.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Easier said than done.” You could feel Jacob wince beside you because he already knew what you were talking about–how even if you acted like yourself, you were never accepted or loved enough.

“Sorry.”

You shook your head. “Don’t be.” You looked down to play with your fingers nervously. Multiple scenarios began to play through your head like a jumbled-up movie. What if you laughed at something he said when it wasn’t meant to be a joke? What if you blurted out your deepest darkest secret and caused him to look at you weirdly? What if–

“What if he kisses me?”

Jacob froze, turning to you in disbelief. “That’s what you’re worried about?”

“Well, one of the things I’m worried about,” You mumbled, shrugging.

He searched your eyes as if to make sure you weren’t joking. Which, you definitely weren’t, as your jaw clenched unsurely.

This time, his tone was softer and more gentle. “Are you not confident?”

You sighed, slightly embarrassed. “No– I don’t know, maybe? I just don’t want to… disappoint.”

You can see a small smirk appear on Jacob’s lips. “I’m sure you won’t.”

“How would you know?” Your eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“I just assumed,” He whispered. And you could have sworn his eyes darted down to your lips for a split second. Then, he took in a deep breath and scooted just a bit closer, facing you so that your knees touched. He raised an eyebrow. “You’ve kissed before, haven’t you?”

“Yeah.” You furrowed your eyebrows. “Not enough to be good if that’s what you’re wondering.”

He seemed to be deep in thought before something shifted in his gaze and his lips parted to ask you something. It wasn’t teasing anymore, nor was it questioning. It was a serious look in his eyes, almost heart-stopping, as he stared at you as if to contemplate if what he was about to ask would change anything. And it definitely did, as it was already sending you choking on air.

“Want to practice?”

“With who?” You stared at him, acting innocent as if you didn’t already know what he meant.

“With me.”

“Oh,” You breathed. You didn’t know why but in the deepest part of yourself, reserved only for the most important secrets, you knew that your heart thumped erratically when he spoke those two words. “I mean– okay. I-I guess.”

He was just doing it as a friend.

He smiled softly and you watched as his hand very slowly came up to cup your cheek. He leaned in but stopped just before your lips connected. You peeked an eye open–yes, you already shut your eyes–and stared at him in perplexion.

A corner of his lips lifted. He must have already noticed your eagerness.

“Promise me, you’ll tell me if you don’t want to do this.” He looked you in the eyes, searching you with almost what you could tell was affection.

You nodded quietly.

He seemed confident but you could tell he was feeling nervous too with the way he swallowed thickly and his eyes darted across your features unsurely.

“Can I kiss you?” was his final question.

“Yes,” You whispered.

And then he leaned forward, attaching his lips to yours. You felt your heart stop before it came back to life again, this time, much faster than before. Your eyes carefully fluttered shut as you allowed yourself to melt into his touch. His hand stayed on your cheek, gently caressing your skin with his thumb as he slowly kissed you, almost as if he was savoring the moment.

You would be lying if you said that you didn’t also want to savor the moment.

You let out a small involuntary sound once it registered in your brain that he was deepening the kiss further. He tilted his head and soon enough, his hand was leaving your cheek, trailing down your side, and grasping onto your waist. You gasped and furrowed your eyebrows in concentration.

You were lost. Completely lost from the fact that this was supposed to be a practice kiss for your future date. That kind man from your literature class was long gone from your mind. Instead, every coherent thought of yours was replaced with one single person. Your best friend. The person you were kissing right now.

Jacob, Jacob, Jacob.

“Jacob,” You rasped in between kisses.

Even though your hands rested on his chest, creating some sort of distance, you didn’t make any further move to end the kiss. You felt butterflies erupt every time his hand ever so caressed your side.

“Hm?” He kissed you like he meant it. He kissed you like he actually loved you and that was what sent you reeling.

Shivers traveled down your spine once his hand wandered from your waist down to your lower back. The warmth of his palm and fingers splayed across your skin as it slowly lifted up the fabric of your outfit, leaving cool air to make its way through.

That small breeze was what sent you out of your trance and what led you to finally pull away.

“I think- I think that’s enough,” You panted, your heart rate refusing to go down.

Your lips felt sore and almost bitten and when you looked up to meet Jacob’s eyes, he was staring, stunned yet with a slight smug expression.

“Yeah,” He whispered. It took him a while for him to let go of the small of your back. “Sorry.”

You huffed out a laugh, patting at your cheeks to let them cool down. “Sorry for what?”

He smiled shyly. “I got carried away.”

You snorted. You were glad that there wasn’t any lingering awkwardness after that… kiss no matter how oddly real and passionate it felt. “Am I at least a good kisser? Am I set for the date?”

It looked like he was just shocked by lightning. “Your date. Yes, your date.”

You stared at him with confusion. “My… date. That’s what we were practicing for.”

He gulped and nodded quietly. “Yeah, yeah.” And then he leaned in again. But this time, he positioned him right by your ear, his breath that you just recently felt shuddering against your lips, now lingering on your earlobe. You hated yourself for closing your eyes and bracing for a kiss. What were you thinking? You swallowed nervously.

“You’re a great kisser, just as I thought.”

You resisted the urge to choke on air. “Th-thank you,” You blurted stupidly before abruptly standing up to grab your bag and aiming to run out the door.

But he stopped you, gently taking your hand and pulling you back.

“What?” You squeaked, your hands growing sweaty and your heart speeding up for the nth time.

“It’s a bit…” You felt his fingers brush against your skin once again, creating flashbacks back to the kiss. You heard the sound of the zipper on the back of your outfit being zipped up. Since when was it undone? You were pretty sure you pulled it all the way.

“My fault,” He teased. So it was him who unzipped it.

“Perv.” You tried to elbow him. But of course, he caught your arm and turned you around.

“Have fun on your date,” He smiled gently.

You breathed out shakily. “Okay.”

—

You were not having fun. Well, your date was all but a gentleman. He pulled the chair out for you, shielded you from incoming cars, and everything. But you couldn’t help but let your mind wander, distracted by the fact that Jacob already did all this anyway.

You were also distracted by the kiss. You could still feel the sensation of his lips moving fervently against yours and the warmth of his hand moving up your back and unzipping your outfit unnoticeably. You still wondered why he did that in the first place.

The two of you stopped on the trail that beautifully looked out to the sea. It was the perfect scene—the kind man in front of you, waiting for something. More specifically, a kiss. You could just lean in and kiss him right now but you… couldn’t.

“May I?” The man's voice interrupted your rushing thoughts.

“What?” You dumbly replied.

“You know.” He grinned shyly and stepped forward.

“Oh, I—“ You cleared your throat. Why wasn’t your heart beating fast like it did with your best friend of all people? Why didn’t your cheeks feel warm like how they did when Jacob looked at you with such a soft gaze? Maybe you were just going crazy, you figured. Maybe after this kiss, everything would go back to how it was. “Okay.”

But just as the man was leaning in, you suddenly planted your hands on his chest, pushing him away. When the man stared at you in alarm, you stuttered, “S-sorry. I actually don’t think we can.”

His expression saddened. “Why not?”

You didn’t know either. You could only offer a pathetic shrug.

“I just don’t think we’ll work out.”

His jaw clenched but he eventually stepped back. “Alright then, I guess. Want a ride home?”

You gave him a weak smile and shook your head. “It’s fine. I’m sorry.”

He never accepted your apology.

—

When you called Jacob to pick you up, he looked you over in worry.

“Did something happen? Did he break it off with you? What—“ He didn’t even start driving, rather he parked and turned his attention to you.

You laughed and shook your head. “We didn’t kiss. And it was me who ended it.”

He frowned. “It was only your first date.”

“I know but I decided not to look for anyone right now. I’d rather just stick with you.” You smiled sweetly. Jacob replied with an incoherent sound as he abruptly turned away to stare out the window.

“That’s fine with me,” He muttered, his ears red even under dark evening light.

You huffed out a quiet laugh and sat back in the car seat. Jacob started driving, the low hum of the engine lulling you to sleep. Slowly, you shut your eyes and let out a content sigh. “I’m tired.”

“From what?” He mused.

You grinned to yourself. “From kissing you. You’re quite the rough kisser.” You paused. “Not that I didn’t enjoy it of course.”

And thank god for your seatbelt because, for some odd reason, Jacob suddenly slammed on the brakes.

But even after that throwaway comment, the two of you never spoke about the kiss again. Except, speaking and thinking are two different things. For the next coming days, you thought about the kiss again, and again, and again, even if it didn’t turn into something more.

iii.

“So you really didn’t kiss?” Jacob questioned a few days later. The two of you walked down the main street of your campus, window shopping and sipping on warm lattes. It was the perfect day, slightly chilly with clear skies. You loved moments like these–the ones where all you could do was chatter about random things that came up in your mind and Jacob would always listen intently.

“No, we really didn’t.” You rolled your eyes. If you peered just a bit closer, you could see a wave of relief wash over his face.

As the two of you walked together and as more time passed by, you began to realize that what you and Jacob had wasn’t the most normal friendship. You had other friends too and you certainly did not act like how you did with Jacob. You glanced down to where you two were literally holding hands, intertwined fingers and all.

“So you don’t get lost,” Jacob whispered when the two of you graduated together. “I can’t lose you.”

Your mind wandered back to when Jacob fixed your hair oh so gently after it had gotten just the slightest bit messy from the wind.

“Why do you always fix my hair for me?” You narrowed your eyes.

“I like it when you look up at me when I do,” Jacob teased, pinching your cheek. “Your puppy eyes.”

You always thought he was just joking, but the more you thought about it, the more it felt like he meant it. He always seemed to love yet hate eye contact. Sometimes, he would stare back with a soft, admiration-filled gaze. Other times, he would tear his gaze away because he was flustered.

There was also the jealousy. You weren’t a blind fool to never notice it. He was always supportive of your dates and he always comforted you whenever they didn’t work out. But for some reason, what really ticked him off was physical touch by any guy that’s not him.

“What were you doing with him?” Jacob had asked you when he walked in on you hugging one of your classmates.

You widened your eyes. “Well he– he lended me some notes that I missed, that’s all.”

“And that earned him a hug?” Jacob’s eyes, ironically turned into those irresistible puppy eyes.

You stared at him in awe. “Are you…?”

Jacob gulped. “No.”

And that was the first time Jacob asked you to fall asleep on him instead of the other way around. You would never complain though. His chest was very comfortable.

Then there was the kiss.

It was one. You never kissed him again after. And at the moment, it seemed like a perfectly normal thing to do. In your mind, you thought he was just offering you an opportunity to practice.

But every time you thought of it at night and in your dreams, you began to realize that it was anything but practice. There was no need for him to caress your side, cup your cheek so gently, tilt his head for a better angle, and for him to deepen the kiss.

Your friendship wasn’t a typical one. It was something more. Yet, you didn’t know what to do with it.

You turned to look at him, wondering if studying his features would give you a clearer answer. But much to your surprise, Jacob was already staring back. There was a small smile on his lips, his eyes sparkling as he looked—as he looked at you.

“Why?” You blurted out.

“Why what?”

“Why do you always stare at me?”

He paused in his tracks. It took you a moment to realize that it was really only the two of you on the sidewalk. The sun had already set and so everyone had gone home. He turned to you, pulling you closer, causing you to stumble slightly. He then brought your connected hands up to his chest. You inhaled quietly once it registered in your head that you could feel his erratic heartbeat. You looked up at him, searching for any sort of answer. Yet he still remained like a book in a completely different language that you didn’t understand.

“Because you never fail to take my breath away.”

Your heart felt like it was caught in your throat. And as dumb as it may seem, you looked down at yourself, wondering if you had dressed up in a particular way for him to say that. But then you felt a gentle hand on your cheek, turning your attention back up. He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear.

“Always,” He replied quietly as if he read your mind. “You always, always take my breath away. Even on the day you fell asleep on me in high school. Even when you say that you look bad, I think you’re beautiful.”

“Jacob… I—“ You stopped once you felt a stinging cold on the very tip of your nose. It was a snowflake, you soon realized. You used to love it when it snowed, up until you found out that you had a horrible tolerance for cold. But who was it who took care of you when sick? It was always Jacob. It was always him who wrapped you up in blankets and cuddled you, even when you warned him that he would also get sick.

His eyes filled with worry as he glanced up at the sky. “Let’s run before it gets too slippery.” He smiled mischievously, grasping your hand once more and leading you toward your dorm. You laughed loudly, trying to catch up with him.

“Too fast!” You complained.

He turned back to look at you and oh, how handsome he looked even while running. That pretty smile with his bright, even prettier eyes. “I don’t want you to get sick,” He replied, accompanied by a cute laugh. “Do you want me to carry you?”

You flushed and shook your head immediately. “Let’s just keep running,” You huffed, allowing Jacob to lead the way.

The whole run back was filled with giggles and giddy smiles. You couldn’t have it any other way. The two of you, panting, finally managed to burst into your dorm. There was this exhilarating feeling in your chest. No matter if you stopped running or not, you would feel so… out of breath. It could be because of Jacob, it could be the beautiful snow, or it could just be the constant pounding of your heart. It could be all three.

You finally let go of Jacob’s hand, completely missing how he instinctively chased after your touch. Then, you stepped away to brush off the snowflakes that’s built up on your coat. Once you were sure that you were free from looking like a sugar-powdered donut, you looked up to where Jacob had already closed the door and was leaning against it.

His hair was messy, but what caught your eye the most, were the flurries of snow trapped between his locks. Somehow, he made looking like a sugar-powdered donut a good thing. He grinned at you with slightly rosy cheeks and gentle, gentle eyes.

He looked attractive. Since when did he look so attractive? You weren’t completely unaware that he was a fairly good-looking guy, but with the way his coat slipped off one shoulder and how his smile shot straight for your heart, you began to realize he was a lot more than just good-looking.

You were frozen, your arms straight at your sides, completely distracted by your best friend’s smile and the annoying thump of a heart–specifically, yours.

And one would think that he was looking at you, weirded out by your staring. But instead, he was gazing at you just the same. And this time, you had an explanation for all those lingering, soft looks he would give you for the many years that you’ve been friends. His words rang in your ears.

Always. You always, always take my breath away.

His smile slowly fell and before you could even register the way his gaze fell away from your eyes and downwards, he was walking towards you and cupping your face. Not even a second later, you felt a pair of lips being pressed against yours.

And just like before, your eyelids were already fluttering shut. This time though, you stayed without movement, simply allowing him to kiss you ever so gently and lovingly.

When he pulled away, that was when it finally hit you. You didn’t have a date to practice for, nor was this some sort of dare. Jacob, your best friend of multiple years, just kissed you on his own accord.

You brought the back of your hand up to your lips, staring at him in startlement. “Why’d you do that?” Your voice came out weak.

“What?” He blinked, and you could see how his cheeks began to flush. “Oh, I just– you know, in case you were thinking of going on another date with another literature class guy. It would be good practice since I know that you’re nervous so I just– I kissed you.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Is that really it?”

He gulped, his eyes searching yours before he sighed. “I’m sorry. You just looked really pretty.”

“You kissed me because I looke–”

“Yes,” He blurted out, wincing. “And I’m sorry. That was stupid of me and I should have asked before and now you think that I’m–”

“Jacob.” You stepped forward, placing your hands on his shoulders. “Jacob.”

His eyes softened. “Yeah?”

“Be completely honest,” You looked him straight in the eyes. However, it began to feel a bit hard not to let your gaze fall to his lips because my god, was he a good kisser.

“I just was,” He muttered shyly.

You huffed. “Not that. I know you already answered that question. You kissed me because I looked pretty, which thank you, by the way.” You batted your eyes teasingly. Jacob let out an incoherent sound and tried to look away. But instead, you cupped his cheek and turned his attention back. “I have another one.”

He frowned, which would be a sorrowful sight if it wasn’t for the fact that he was blushing like crazy right now. You held back a smile.

“Do you like me?”

Jacob’s eyes widened. “What?” He squawked.

The puzzle pieces were already coming together for a while now. The longing gazes, acts of kindness, his occasional kisses (definitely not normal)–you knew there was a root to all those. But you still had that small feeling of insecurity. Well, up until now. That kiss just confirmed everything.

“Do you like me?” You repeated. “Last time, when you said that you would date me, you weren’t lying. You meant it, didn’t you?”

“I…” He trailed off. The room was dead silent. All you could do now was see, smell, and feel. You could see Jacob’s eyelashes as they fluttered when he blinked profusely, trying to come up with some sort of excuse. You could smell his cologne, which always smelled good especially when you buried your face into his chest. And you could feel his hand hovering just over your wrist.

He let out a low sigh and he looked you in the eye, his gaze nervous yet filled with something new–hope.

“I did,” He finally whispered. “I meant it. I would love to date you. And I like you. So much and for a very long time now.”

And even with all that evidence that you’ve thought about late at night, you still couldn’t help but be taken aback. You swallowed thickly and took a step back. “Oh.” It all felt real now. Deep down, you were hoping that he denied it. You wouldn’t have to actually think about your feelings for him like you had to do now. You weren’t prepared for this.

“I– I was just curious,” You stuttered. But that hand that was hovering over your waist suddenly grasped it and pulled you close. You yelped quietly before finding yourself right up against your best friend’s chest.

“And you don’t have an answer?” He asked, his voice teasing yet trembled slightly.

“Why do you need an answer?” Your heart thumped.

He hummed, his eyes glinting with mischievousness. “I want to know. You’re the one who brought this up anyway.”

“Yeah, well–” You inhaled sharply when you felt a hand on the side of your face, cautiously tucking a piece of hair back. “I’m fine.��

“You don’t look fine.” He looked you over in a way that made you feel warm and fuzzy inside. And for some reason, it wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling. You’ve felt this before, multiple times, which was what baffled you even more.

You didn’t know when it started happening and you didn’t want to dwell on it either, but everytime he ever so smiled or placed his hands on you, you felt that weird thing in your stomach. All the recent times that you’ve cuddled and fell asleep with him began to do just the same. Sometimes, you couldn’t even fall asleep because your heart was beating too fast. The only way you could fall asleep was by pressing your ear to his chest and counting his heartbeats.

Jacob quickly noticed your silence and hesitance. His voice quieted down to that caring version that he always used when you were on the verge of falling asleep—whether that be on his shoulder or chest.

“Y/n,” He gently spoke, grabbing your attention.

“What?” You winced.

“I’m sorry if I pressured you or anything. You don’t have to answer right n—“

“I like you too.”

His breath hitched. You couldn’t see his expression though, as you had shut your eyes with a grimace.

“Oh,” He breathed. You heard him step closer. “You do? You… like me too?”

“Yes,” You whispered in a small voice.

And yet again, your stomach did that funny thing because when you opened your eyes, Jacob’s face was a lot closer than before. He had a shy yet cautious smile on his face as he watched you silently.

“So…” He tilted his head expectantly. “We both share feelings. It’s up to you what you want to do now.”

This wasn’t even the bad part, you realized. It was the next words that left your lips that was.

“Nothing, let’s just move on.”

Immediately, it was like something had stabbed him in the heart and oh, did it feel the same for you. You bit your lip, willing your tears to go away. All you wanted to do was reach for his hand and pull him in and let everything else fold out naturally. But no, you stayed back against the wall, refusing to look him in the eye.

“What?” He muttered, a clear look of confusion in his eyes.

Your voice wavered as you forced sounds out of your clenched-up throat. “I said, that we should just move on.”

He let out a breath in disbelief. “Why? Is there something wrong? Did I do something wrong? If so, I’ll fix it. Is it because I didn’t let you borrow my hoodie that one time? I’ll let you borrow it whenever you want from now on.”

“It’s not,” You cried, your heart aching at the fact that he still tries to take the blame. “I want to be more with you, Jacob. I just can’t. It’s my fault, not yours.”

He fell quiet, watching you with care. “What’s stopping you?”

“Me,” You shamefully replied. “I’m afraid.”

“Afraid?” He inquired quietly. “Of what?”

“Of taking you for granted. I don’t want to possibly lose you and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“You don’t have to worry about me.” He frowned.

“But I should.” You furrowed your eyebrows. “Because what if I push you away, then what?”

He looked like he was going to say something else but he ultimately swallowed his words and let out a low sigh. “Okay,” He whispered. “I understand.”

You felt the need to apologize over and over again. You hated the look on his face as he tried to hide the pain he was feeling.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” You began to say over and over again. “It’s not because of you. It’s—“

“I know.” He gave you a soft look. He always remembered and could always tell when you were sensitive about a past relationship, no matter if it was just a fling or not.

He slowly stepped forward again and he carefully rested his palm on the back of your hand. When you didn’t flinch or pull away, he gently wrapped his fingers around your hand, holding it firmly.

“So why did you tell me?” He finally asked. “If you didn’t want this to go further.”

You tightened your hands into fists—a nervous habit you had. But, he was quick to soothe them back open as he quietly whispered a small, “You’ll hurt yourself.”

“I don’t— I don’t know.” You paused. “In a perfect world, you’re aware of my feelings and we go further. But that’s in a perfect world. I just thought… if I told you it might magically happen but it didn’t and that’s stupid, I know.”

Jacob never took his eyes off you and he never pulled his hand away. That’s what you liked so much about him. He never failed to be your anchor, the one to ground you when you felt like floating away.

What confused you though, was that he wasn’t saying anything. He seemed to be deep in thought as if he were changing his mind about something. But, he wasn’t changing his mind about his feelings for you. You could tell by the way his eyebrows furrowed slightly when you tried to hide away from his soft gaze and by the way he never let you clench your fists, holding both of your hands tightly but never enough to hurt.

You were lost in his eyes—those who have seen you at your best and lowest. He’d seen you smile and come running into his arms and he’d seen you cry and break down until you fell asleep in his embrace.

“Then I’ll wait for you.”

You inhaled sharply and widened your eyes. “What?”

“I’ll wait for you,” He repeated, a small yet reassuring smile on his lips. “That perfect world you talked about–it’s a possibility, right? So I’ll wait. I’ll wait for your perfect world to come.”

“Jacob.” You stared at him unsurely. He didn’t even know when that would happen. You didn’t even know either. So why was he so sure of waiting for you?

He leaned in and you felt a hand leave yours. And almost like he read your mind, you felt the warmth of his palm on the side of your cheek, caressing it soothingly.

“No matter how long it takes.”

Your brain was rushing with a million red warning signs. Multiple questions threatened to spill out of your mouth yet the only one that could leave was a choked, “why?”

“Because all I want is for you to be happy. Why should we rush when it means you won’t be happy? That’s all that matters to me.”

“But you—“ You let out a frustrated sigh. “You might lose interest. Or what if we do get together and something happens and—“

He grinned. “You’re thinking too far ahead. Didn’t I tell you I would wait?”

You grumbled, yet the weight in your heart lightened at the change in the surrounding mood.

“Whenever you’re ready, we can talk about this again,” He said. “In the meantime, we can go back to what we were before.”

You rolled your eyes and bit back a shy smile. “Okay.”

“And…” His eyes sparkled as he leaned forward. Immediately, as if on instinct, you shut your eyes and expected a kiss on the lips. Instead, though you felt him press one on the very top of your forehead, almost as if that was his final move of showing how much he respected you. “If you ever decide to go further, I promise that I will be good for you. I’ll be so, so good for you.”

That was when your legs began to feel like jelly. You could feel yourself melt and your brain go fuzzy.

But just as you expected, Jacob was always there to catch you.

+ 1

It was one thing to be best friends with Jacob and another thing to be best friends with a guy who recently confessed his feelings for you. No matter how hard you tried to bring things back to normal, it was of no use.

Every smile, which would be a normal thing whenever you crack a joke, now was a smile that caught you off guard and made you stumble over your words. Whenever he touched you somehow, whether if it was simply to guide you down a sidewalk or to pull you into a hug, you felt a spark that never quite left you until you fell asleep.

But still, despite the many times your heart had beaten towards Jacob, you could never find the courage to take things further. Even so, he always made it clear that he would wait.

“You can stop waiting,” You once blurted out when you noticed him hesitating to grasp your hand.

He looked at you in slight alarm before softening his expression. This time, without hesitation, he took hold of your hand, pulling it into his lap so that he could play with your fingers, bending them and squeezing them.

“Tell me the reason first. Then I’ll decide.” He eyed you knowingly.

You blushed and looked away. However, you never made a move to pull your hand away.

“Just… I feel bad,” You muttered. “It must be awkward or difficult. So you can just leave if this is bothering you.”

“Ah,” He breathed. He didn’t say anything after that, instead turning his attention back to your hand.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion and turned to him. “So you’re going to stop waiting?”

He smirked slightly before shaking his head. “No.”

You gaped at him, pulling your hand away in shock. “What?” You stammered. “But I just said–”

Your words were cut off by Jacob taking your hand and instead of bringing it back into his lap, he brought it up to your lips and left a soft kiss on the back of it. You immediately choked on your spit as you blinked, flustered.

“So your reason is that you’re worried that I might get impatient, correct?” He looked up to you, smiling.

You nodded your head, too lost for words.

“Then that’s not a valid reason,” He whispered. He set your hand back down, but still held it in his lap. “If you feel uncomfortable, then I will stop waiting. But me? You don’t have to worry about me.” He leaned in, staring at you completely endeared. You tried to glance away. “Like I said, I’ll always wait. No matter how long it takes.”

You breathed out shakily before nodding.

It always ended like that. It didn’t matter how hard you tried to convince him to give up, he would always come back to you like a lost puppy.

Jacob also started to take care of you more. At first, you thought it was some way to win you over like your exes liked to do right after an argument. But, over time, you began to realize that his actions were genuine, though silent and hard to notice.

“I’m hungry,” You mumbled to yourself one day. Jacob was walking behind you, seeming busy on his phone. Turns out, he wasn’t, because a few hours later, you found a bag of food placed at the entrance of your door.

Or, the other time when you just finished up your upcoming assignments and could barely walk straight with how exhausted you were. All you could remember was a pair of worried eyes that belonged to Jacob who was guiding you to bed. When you woke up, you were wrapped comfortably in blankets and most of all, his sweater that seemed to magically appear on you.

And then there was that one time. The most important of all.

“Which one is better?” You asked, holding up two scarves for your classmate to see. She peered at it curiously before pointing at the one in your left hand.

“Who’s it for?” She wiggled her eyebrows.

You scoffed, putting the other one back on the shelf. “Jacob.”

“Are you really sure that you two aren’t a thing?”

You hesitated before shrugging weakly. “It’s complicated.” You tossed the scarf into the cart before turning away, yawning. On nights when Jacob was too busy to visit your dorm, you never were able to sleep well. “I’m going to order a cup of coffee, I’ll be right back.”

You stretched your limbs and walked over to the nearby coffee shop. Buying gifts was a hard task, especially when it came to Jacob. He always made these intricately crafted gift baskets for you, filled with everything you could possibly want.

“Y/n?” A gruff voice called out to you.

You froze in place. You recognized that voice and oh, how you despised it. Still, you plastered on a smile and turned in the voice’s direction.

“Hey, it’s… you.” You looked the man over. He was the ex who stated so bluntly that you were undesirable. He certainly looked worse for wear—dark circles under his eyes, clothes with unknown stains on them, and an unkind sneer.

“How’ve you been?” He took a step forward. You were quick to backtrack, your fists clenched.

“Fine,” You forced out. “You?”

“Could be better.” He shrugged. Something suddenly shifted in his gaze though, as he looked at you differently. It was in a way that made you feel sick to your stomach, as opposed to the butterflies that would appear when you two were still together. “Listen,” He started. “I’m going to get straight to the point.”

You stared at him, perplexed.

“Get together with me again.”

You jerked away, your hands coming up defensively. “What?”

“You heard me. I’m sorry that you got offended by my words before…”

You scoffed. And he still won’t apologize.

“…but after we split, I realized how much I missed you. C’mon sweetheart, you know you feel the same, hm?”

You felt like you were about to throw up as you glared at him in disbelief. “Do you hear yourself right now?”

The man feigned innocence.

“Okay, I guess not. And I don’t have the energy to explain it to someone like you,” You spat. “So no. My answer is no. Besides, I have a boyfriend.”

That last sentence you sort of didn’t think through… but everything else you’ve practically perfected after rehearsing it with Jacob many times before.

“If you ever see him again, promise you’ll tell me,” Jacob muttered, his fingers trailing circles on your arm. It was late at night and you could barely keep your eyes open. But, it was always at this time that Jacob became sentimental and protective.

“Okay,” You whispered, your voice muffled in his chest. “Don’t worry, I’m over him.”

“That’s good.” You could hear him breathe out in relief. “And if he ever wants something from you, say no. You deserve so much more than he can ever give you.”

You smiled and snuggled closer to your best friend’s warmth. “Okay, okay. In love with me or something?”

“...go to sleep,” He mumbled, pulling the blankets closer over your figure. Completely forgetting the fact that he never answered your question, you peeked over his shoulder and realized that he was barely covered.

You frowned. “You’ll get cold.”

And instead of readjusting the blankets, he tightened his arms around you, burying his face into your neck. “I won’t.”

“Boyfriend?” Your ex’s jaw clenched scarily. “What do you mean boyfriend? Who?”

You gulped but still lifted your head high. “Jacob,” You lied straight through your teeth.

The man’s sneer only grew further as his eyes narrowed. “Of course,” He hissed. “Of course it’s always him.”

You nodded slowly, slightly confused of his response. “Yeah, so…” You couldn’t help but stifle a laugh at the sight of the man, red-faced and with almost smoke coming out of his ears.

“Just leave,” The man grunted. “I’m fine.”

“I never asked if you were fine.” You suppressed a laugh which quickly fell short when he snapped his head towards you in a warning. “Okay, okay,” You snorted. “Have a great day!” You waved and ran away before the man could explode once more.

As you walked back in the direction of your classmate, you couldn’t help but smile stupidly to yourself. To be truthfully honest, you were always terrified for this day to come. That you would run into one of your failed dates and absolutely freeze up, making a complete fool out of yourself. That was what you thought for the longest time.

But now, you realized that the interaction you just had was a lot easier than you thought. Sure, it left your heart seizing nervously, but after having someone–Jacob–stay by your side everytime even a single tear left your eye, you realized that you were healed.

–

You swung the bag in your hand, smiling brightly. You’ve never felt so happy before. Your eyes wandered across all the stores, casually window shopping until you suddenly came to a stop.

You squinted your eyes and stepped closer. There, on the display of one of the most famously expensive jewelry stores, was the necklace worn on your very neck–the exact same one that Jacob had gifted you. You peered in and spotted the price tag. That was when you stumbled back, slapping your hand over your mouth.

You stared in astonishment at the necklace. “He said that it wasn’t expensive…”

But of course, it was always Jacob who said not to worry about him. You sighed all too knowingly though you couldn’t help but bite back the smile that was forming on your lips.

Just as you were busy admiring the bracelet just like you’ve done many times before, you heard your phone ring.

“Jacob?”

“Y/n,” He sounded breathless. Almost like he was… running. “Where are you?”

You blinked in confusion. “Where are you?”

“The park. Are you–”

You accidentally hung up. You winced and whispered a quiet sorry before heading to the local park.

–

It’s a common occurrence for Jacob to find you wandering around the park, clearing your mind after hours of studying. It was not a common occurrence for you to find Jacob standing in a secluded garden area, looking around frantically for something–someone.

You bounded over to him, ready to greet him cheerily. But, as soon as his eyes landed on you, he was immediately reaching forward and pulling you into his arms.

“Oh,” You breathed stiffly. His hold was tight and protective, yet you had no idea why.

He pulled away and looked you over worriedly. His eyes were soft and his hands held gently onto your shoulders. “Are you okay?” He asked. Then, his hands came up to your cheeks as if to check for invisible tears. “Did he hurt you?”

You stared at the man in alarm, your lips parted in confusion. “Who?”

“Your ex.”

Your mouth fell further open. “How’d you know I met him today?”

Jacob sighed and pulled out his phone. “I got a text.” You couldn’t help but melt at his small, worried pout. “He said that he had just talked to you and sent you home crying.”

You blinked. And then you snorted, much to Jacob’s surprise.

“That weirdo said that?” You laughed. “He did not. I was the one who sent him home. He’s bluffing!”

And even though the man in front of you looked slightly embarrassed, you could tell that he was relieved. He stepped forward and pulled you back into a hug, his hand stroking the back of his head. “Thank god. I thought you were hurt.”

You shook your head, smiling as you listened to his beating heartbeat. “Don’t worry, I’m okay.”

It was you who pulled away first but it quickly became a regret. You so badly wanted to melt back into his arms. You’ve never been treated with so much care before–the way he held your face so gently to make sure you weren’t crying and how he held you close. God, how he made you swoon.

You cleared your throat, completely forgetting that you were staring in awe into your best friend’s eyes. Jacob smiled shyly.

“So!” You blurted, playing nervously with the sleeves of your coat. “What brings you to the park? You never come here.”

Jacob seemed to choke on something. Hm, you didn’t remember seeing him eating anything. He glanced around and you quickly noticed how red his ears had gotten.

“Oh, I–I was on a run and this was part of the… route.”

“Really?” You wondered, looking around. This area of the park was more closed off though, surrounded by more plants than people. “Interesting.”

“Yeah,” He laughed nervously.

It grew awkwardly silent then. The two of you were simply facing each other without anything to say or do. But that silence gave you more time to observe and notice the small details like how Jacob’s hair was tousled in multiple directions, meaning he wasn’t running in one straight path, but rather on multiple. His shoes were untied, which didn’t make any sense with his run, but instead showed that he was in a hurry. And then there was the phone call. The first thing he asked was where you were and as soon as you met up with him, it was like he was looking for…

“You were looking for me,” You breathed in realization. “You ran here because you were looking for me.”

Jacob’s cheeks immediately reddened as he stared at you like a deer caught in headlights. He winced as he tried to avoid eye contact. You leaned forward, making him breathe in sharply.

“I…” He sighed in defeat. It seemed like your best direction was simple eye contact. “Fine, I was looking for you. I was worried about you.”

Your eyes softened as you reached a hand up to fix his messy hair. “Why? You know that I can take care of myself.”

He frowned and you couldn’t help but think how adorable he looked when he was protective. “Still. I hate to see you hurt.”

You smiled, endeared. “Oh, Jacob…”

“Ever since you told me that you were afraid that one day, I wanted to take care of you more. And I’m sorry,” He whispered, slightly leaning into the touch of your hand. “I’m sorry if I intruded too much or made you uncomfortable. I promise that I’ll step back if you want. Or if you–”

He let out a muffled sound though, as you grabbed his collar and pulled him in to plant a kiss onto one of his cheeks. When you peeked an eye open, you smiled when you realized that his eyes were wide open in shock. Stifling a laugh, you pulled back and softly poked the spot that you just kissed.

“Wha… you…” He stared at you, completely dazed. Then, he giggled, completely flustered, as his hand came up to touch where you had just kissed.

You finally let that laugh escape, hiding your face in his chest. Then, you looked up at him, smiling widely.

“You really do know how to make me fall, don’t you?”

He smiled goofily, almost like he was drunk after that one kiss. “You’re still standing though.”

You huffed fondly and slapped him bashfully. “You know what I mean.”

“Wait, but–” He widened his eyes. You felt his hands sneak around your waist, holding you securely and protectively. “Are you sure about this? I told you I’d wait. You don’t have to…” He bit his lip shyly. You could tell that the feeling of your lips on his cheek came rushing back. He shook out of his trance though he was still blushing. “You don’t have to kiss me if you’re not ready.”

You smiled softly and shook your head. You knew it was the necklace that did it for you. It served as further proof of how much Jacob cared for you–that he always thought about you even when you were apart and lied about the price so that you wouldn’t worry. Jacob was always like this. He always had you in his mind and would do anything if it meant that you would smile. Sometimes, he would even tell you that he liked your smile.

“But I am ready. I want to go further with you.”

That was what made him jump in surprise. “You– you want to be more? Like me as your boyfriend? And you as…” He paused, his smile giddy and so in love. “Mine?”

You nodded excitedly. “Yes, Jacob.”

“But you said…”

“I’m still afraid,” You replied, looking down at where there was barely any distance between you two. “But I would love to try with you.”

“Are you sure?” He furrowed his eyebrows slightly which you couldn’t take seriously with the way his eyes were filled with so much eagerness.

“Yes.” You copied his expression jokingly.

“One hundred percent sure?”

You sighed fondly and instead of replying, you stepped forward and pressed yet another kiss on his cheek. That seemed to be a good enough answer because Jacob was staring down at you as if you were the brightest star in the sky.

Jacob then used his finger to tilt your chin up. His smile was what left you feeling breathless. “Then I promise you, Y/n, that I’ll be good for you. If I do anything wrong, tell me. I will be my best for you. All the time. I like you so much”

You felt your composure melt as you couldn’t even control your grin anymore.

“Okay,” You giggled. “I like you too. And this time, I want to do more. Only with you. You are my perfect world.”

Then, your expression quickly changed into a teasing one as you leaned in and fluttered your eyes shut. You expected Jacob to become flustered but instead, he smirked and tightened his hold on your waist. You were glad that the park was empty right now as you peeked an eye open, slightly flustered.

“What are you doing?” He teased.

You smiled shyly. “I’m asking for a kiss. And not as practice this time.”

“Of course, beautiful.” He drew circles on your hip before yanking you close and against his lips. It felt like fireworks going off in your stomach. And the fact that this was real was what made every sensation stronger than it was before.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and tilted your head slightly. Jacob smiled against your lips, holding you close without any intention to let go.

Jacob suddenly pulled away, leaving you to chase after his lips. When you stared at him with both confusion and want at the same time, he smiled knowingly before muttering, “You taste sweeter each time.”

Instantly, you were coughing with a rising blush on your cheeks. The fact that this wasn’t even your first kiss is something to think about. But still, his eyes watched your every move, completely smitten before he leaned back in.

He made it feel like your first kiss everytime.

A few months later

“Why didn’t you tell me that the necklace was actually expensive?” You mumbled, your question briefly cut off by a yawn. The two of you were cuddled up in bed, late at night. It’s not like you two didn’t cuddle before so there wasn’t much of a difference–the only one being that there were now kisses added.

He hummed, the vibration resonating through your chest. “Because I knew you would worry too much and make me return it.”

You huffed grumpily and turned away, your back facing him. He let out a small sound of confusion and peeked over your body to poke your cheek.

“Did I say something wrong?” You already knew he was pouting.

“Yes,” You whined before quickly turning back around. You punched him in the chest though he didn’t flinch one. “Why do you always tell me not to worry about you? This is a teamwork thing. I want to worry about you.”

Jacob stared at you, a completely smitten look on his face. His gaze was soft and you yelped as he suddenly wrapped his arms around you and pulled you back to his chest.

“Okay,” He replied.

You froze. “That’s it? No arguments?”

He laughed quietly. “No, because you’re right. We should be taking care of each other equally.” Then, he tilted his head back to look you in the eye. “Plus, I like when you worry about me. So do that more from now on.”

“Good.” You rolled your eyes. “I will. You think I don’t notice when you’re shivering from the cold?”

He frowned. “But you need the jacket or else you’ll get col–”

“Jacob,” You warned.

“Fine, fine.” He scoffed, squeezing your arm playfully. “But you do know that you deserve the best? So in my defense, you deserve that jacket.”

You bit your lip and sighed, defeated. You were glad that the room was dimly lit so that he wouldn’t notice your blush. As you were getting lost in your thoughts, you felt a hand caress the side of your face, turning your attention back.

“Can I ask something?”

You tilted your head, willing yourself not to melt into his touch. You couldn’t handle that stupidly loving smile he would give you everytime you did.

“What is it?”

“How have I been as a boyfriend? I told you I would treat you well. If there’s anything, let me know. All I want is for you to be happy when you’re with me. Of course, if you want…” You could tell he was nervous with the way he began to ramble.

You smiled fondly and leaned in to kiss his jaw. “Jacob, Jacob,” You spoke, interrupting his fast-paced words.

“Yeah?” He looked at you like an eager puppy.

“Don’t worry,” You whispered. “You’re doing amazing. You’ve been the sweetest boyfriend ever.”

“Oh?” His focused expression quickly turned into a teasing one. “That’s a relief. I love being good for you.”

“My god.” You tried to act nonchalant, but you couldn’t ignore the skip of your heart. You were about to add on, but your words were muffled by him leaning in and kissing you. His lips moved against yours as if you had all the time in the world which you did–you loved to savor the moment.

You barely noticed that he had shifted his position so that you were caged under his arms. You could feel him giggle against your lips, his hand coming up to comb through your hair. You would never get over the fact that he had been a good kisser all this time. You wondered just how many kisses you’ve missed out on.

But then again, his kisses were all for you from now on. You liked–no, loved–the thought of that.

It was still late at night and so, your kisses started to grow more slow and relaxed. Your arms around his neck slowly fell to your sides.

“Hey, don’t fall asleep on me now.” Jacob smirked, pulling away as he stared down at you, your eyes fighting to stay open.

“Can’t help it,” You mumbled. “Come down already.” You grabbed his arm that was holding him up as he hovered you and pulled him back down to lie with you. Automatically, you were climbing into his embrace and it didn’t take long for you to fall asleep.

“Does my kissing make you sleepy?” He teased.

“Yes. I sleep when I’m in love,” You huffed, your thoughts jumbled and messy from both the kiss and your drowsiness.

“That doesn’t really make sense.” He still kissed the top of your forehead anyway.

“Shut up and go to sleep.”

“Okay, beautiful.”

#deoboyznet #the boyz reactions #the boyz imagines #tbz fluff #the boyz fluff #the boyz x reader #tbz imagines #the boyz scenarios #tbz x reader #jacob bae x reader #jacob bae fluff #jacob x reader #jacob fluff #fics 💞#requests 💞

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from-the-clouds · 1 year

Text

lost in the fire - kendall roy x f!reader

| masterlist | succession sideblog: @kendollroyco | my kendall playlist

chapter summary: your boyfriend works too much. a oneshot, but if we're being real, i was thinking about kendall and the reader from thinking of a place, because i miss them. pairing: kendall roy x f!reader words: 4.6k warnings: SMUT (18+ only). soft dom Kendall. Somewhat unhealthy/jealous/co-dependent relationship but this is a Succession fic so like…what do we expect? Alcohol consumption - I don't know what Kendall's definition of sobriety is but he drinks a cocktail in this. a/n: i'll get back to tlou but i've had this partially written for like a year at this point. It started out as more of a manic Ken on a power trip type of fic but then it got really soft and fluffy because I am feeling touch-deprived lately so I’m sorry if I didn’t deliver enough evil ken for ya’ll. :/ OOPS!

**ALSO! I got rid of my taglist. Please follow @ftcwriting and turn on notifs if you would like to be notified when I update my works :) **

"We're like the Lewis and Clark of fucking." - Kendall Roy

Teetering down the hallway, you attempt to quell the outrageously loud click, click, click of your stilettos against the marble floor by shifting most of your weight into the ball of your feet and shuffling forward. It only makes it harder for you to balance while you attempt to put on the flashy gold hoop earrings your friend had insisted you’d wear. Of course, being quiet didn’t really matter, because you were the only person inhabiting the Hudson Yards penthouse.

As usual, you are running late. Famously, you always underestimate how long it will take to get ready for social events – your friends could attest to that. It is a bad habit that, despite years of trying to correct, you can never quite shake.

Beelining for the double doors of the multi-million dollar home, you are interrupted by your name being called out in a sing-songy voice. There is a blur of movement out of the corner of your eye, and you turn towards the familiar sound to find your boyfriend rounding the corner, a drink in hand.

The sight of him at home is rare these days, that for a second, you aren’t even sure if it’s really him. Maybe the place is being haunted by an eerily similar lookalike, or it could be some new ridiculous billionaire technology that he’d invested in– holographic messaging, or something similarly dystopian that you’d roll your eyes at when he tries to explain it to you. It’s fuckin’ next level, I’m telling you. I’m a fucking tech pioneer. You can practically hear him trying to sell you on it despite your distaste.

“Ken?” you cling to the clutch under your arm, unable to stop the shit-eating grin that works its way onto your face. “Hey. When did you get home?”

“Hey yourself,” he answers, poorly hiding a bemused smirk behind Baccarat crystal. “I just got in.”

That much was clear, even though his briefcase and coat had already been cleared away from the table in the entranceway, and his suit jacket draped over the back of a barstool. “Are you going out?” He lowers the tumbler and leans against the counter, but still keeps it close, one finger sliding along the rim.

“Yeah,” you approach Kendall cautiously. “...did you get my text? I thought I’d get ready here, we’re going to that place around the corner.”

He’d given you a key to his flat, even though the relationship was still pretty new – but decidedly not that new, given your history. Things were still moving quickly though, if you compare him to your past flings.

Kendall’s eyes close briefly in recognition, his brows pulling together as though he is scolding himself. “Oh, uh-huh, yeah….right.” It’s then, and in closing the space between you, that his haggard appearance becomes clear. You’re one of few who would probably even notice it. To the untrained eye his white dress shirt is impeccable, crisp and stark as usual – save for the lack of cufflinks, which you notice he’s discarded on the counter alongside his drink. His tie is still fastened tightly around his neck in a perfect half-Windsor. But salt and pepper stubble is sprinkled across his jawline, faint red hazy in the whites of his amber eyes.

Work has consumed him in the last few weeks. It’s been nonstop. And he is still home earlier than you have expected, even though the sun had gone down long ago.

Kendall’s hand wraps around your waist and you lean against him, accepting his affectionate peck on the cheek. “Hey, honey.” The cedar notes of his cologne, the acidity of the vodka on his breath, and the weight of his arm around you makes your stomach flip, even as he draws back, releasing you so he can sit on a barstool. It’s probably for the better, as the impulse to throw yourself into his arms and abandon your plans will become impossible to resist if you don’t leave soon.

It would be a lie to say his career hasn’t put a strain on things lately. Business trips, dinner meetings, weekend conventions all seem determined to keep him away from you. For the past few weeks, you’ve been deprived of him, forced to accept only minutes of his time – mostly sweet nothings and apologies whispered as falls into bed beside you, then presses of his lips on your cheek, still half-asleep in the early hours of the morning as he leaves the next day. You have been forced to savor those moments, even though they are hardly substantial. But you know yourself, you aren’t better off with someone else. He has always been what you wanted.

Still, lately you have been thinking about all his failed past relationships. There is certainly a…pattern. You’ve seen enough, and sometimes it feels like you are purposely ignoring the signs – Watch Your Step!, before falling into a pit of daggers.

He needed a break or he’d burn out, but you’ve learned when to bite your tongue and save those suggestions for when you are sure they won’t erupt. And you both aren’t always good at keeping arguments good-natured.

Kendall shifts in his chair so he can look you up and down – this time up close. “Is this what you’re wearing out?”

“Uhhhh, yeah,” you answer hesitantly, feeling your face heat up.

“Turn around,” his resting facial expression is already kind of indignant, but you can tell right now that he’s definitely frowning.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he says. “I want to see.”

You shrug, but obey, unable to hide the way your lips quirk when you are back facing him again, hands on your hips. All you have to do is read the look on Kendall’s face to know that he doesn’t approve. And even though there is no way in hell you are going to change, the slight blaze in his narrowed eyes makes you think this is about to become a controversy.

“Do you have a problem?” you ask, feigning innocence, glancing down at the getup. The red dress barely covers your ass – is far more revealing than anything you’d normally wear, accompanied by stiletto heels that lace up your calves. Sure, it’s a lot, but you look good, and you’re going out.

“You’ll definitely be getting a lot of attention,” he conveniently doesn’t answer your question.

If you weren’t wearing lipstick, you would’ve bit your lower lip to keep your composure. Instead, you tilt your head and give him a coy smile. “You should come with me.”

Kendall glances down at the countertop and shakes his head, the comment causing him to drop the subject of your attire entirely. “I can’t. I’ve got a meeting first thing.” To be fair, he avoids the club scene most of the time, so it’s not a well-thought-out offer. Too much temptation. “But you look good,” he concedes.

“A work meeting on a Saturday?” you ask, ignoring the compliment. “Fuck,” you reach to take a sip from his tumbler. The vodka he keeps here is always chilled to perfection, so smooth it tastes like it’s melting off a glacier. “It’s that bad?”

He takes the beverage from your hand when you return it, shrugging before throwing the rest back, then standing to pour another. “Just the usual, la-dee-fuckin-dah….corporate bullshit.”

You frown and stare at your shoes, flexing your foot and inspecting its soles.

“Those heels don’t look very comfortable,” he remarks as he passes you.

“They aren’t.”

“Well then I’ll guess I’ll have to take you shopping to replace them.”

You feel yourself flush. “Let me know when you can fit me in your schedule.”

“Uh-huh,” Kendall ignores your jab, changes the subject. “How’s your job?”

“Same as yours. La-dee-fuckin’-dah corporate bullshit,” you repeat his words from earlier, lowering your voice slightly to mimic his cadence of speaking.

The sound of his warm chuckle makes your stomach flip again. “You want me to, uh, pour you one?”

“No, I should probably get going.” You sigh, pulling out your phone to text your friends that you are running behind, and you hear the clink of ice against crystal.

Then, his voice, deep and husky, directly against your ear. “Who’re you texting?”

You jolt in surprise at his sudden proximity. “Fuck! Sorry,” you clear your throat. “Uh….the group chat.”

Kendall’s arm reaches past you to place his drink on the counter, and you feel his fingertips brush the hair away from the nape of your neck. Then, his lips follow, pressing there gently, his thumb trailing down your arm and then back up again. You shiver at the contact, and it dawns on you how touch-deprived you are.

“Pretty girl,” he murmurs against sensitive skin. His hands land on your shoulders and begin to knead at the taut muscles there. You try to keep yourself tense, even as you feel your phone slipping out of your hands, the drafted text all-but forgotten.

But instinctually, you shift backwards to feel the weight of his chest pressed against you.“You’re all wound up,” Almost chastising. Every part of your body below your bellybutton clenches. It’s those hands, his hands. Hands that used to wrap around your throat, thread into your hair, hold your wrists in place. Pin you down, spread you open…. While you think about them, you let him work at the tension that he is partially responsible for, nodding and letting out a long exhale.

“Just a little.”

“When are you gonna quit that job?” he asks you.

You first, you want to say, but let the retort die before it could leave your mouth. “Hmmmmm,” you pretend to mull it over, but you’re only half-aware of things he’s saying to you. “I don’t know.”

“What kind of uh, feminist would I be if I let a girl as hot as fucking you have to worry about a job?”

You can’t help but snort, turning your head so his forehead bumps against your own. “Is that how feminism works?”

“Uh-huh,” he chides, breath tickling the shell of your ear. “Fucking whatever. I wish you’d just let me look after you.”

You are unable to find your voice to answer, because you remember through your needy haze that you are running late, and when he says things like that, it certainly doesn’t help you regain composure. It’s only after you straighten, trying to pull yourself out of the trance he’s worked you into, that you discover how close he has pinned you to the countertop.

“Ken-” you try to protest, but the way it comes out sounds more like you’re pleading.

“What is it?” Kendall asks, returning his lips once more to your neck, beginning to work them tenderly up the column of your throat, which makes it impossible for you to finish the rest of the objection. “I’ve missed you so much,” he pulls you back against him by your waist.

“Me too,” you sigh. “But I-,” you’re cut off when he grinds against you, already half-hard, and your pelvis hits the granite lip of the countertop. It hurts, just for a second, but the pain is quickly replaced by warmth. Kendall pulls his hands away and you’re only held in place by his hips, the metal of his belt buckle cool against your sacrum. The dress you’re wearing is so thin it feels like there’s nothing separating him from your bare skin.

“You what?” he prompts when you remain silent. You know him well enough to hear the self-satisfied smirk on his face, and his nails rake up and down your arms.

It’s a little petty, but you are hesitant to give yourself over so easily to him. To abandon your evening, just because he’s finally decided to see you at a reasonable hour. Of course, if your friends knew you were late because you were with him, they wouldn’t care. Kendall had been a well-kept secret until it was impossible to deny his existence in your life. But they were all a little too supportive of the relationship, since it meant they suddenly had guaranteed access to any club VIP section - and you perpetually pick up the bill. Not to mention the first-class, luxury accommodations they get on girls trips.

There was more to it than just being late, though. You had always been willing to do anything for him, even before you were dating. He told you to jump, you asked how far? He gave you one pleading look from underneath those thick lashes – and you folded. And Kendall is very aware that he’s your weakness. So you constantly try to convince him otherwise, lest he get too comfortable. And really, after his neglectful behavior, did he really deserve you without any opposition?

“Kendall,” you manage to turn slightly. “I’m going to be late.” Wriggling some more in his grip, but it’s only enough to bring you face-to-face, looking up into his stormy eyes.

He studies you carefully, like he might let you leave if he senses enough conviction. “I don’t care.”

You might’ve laughed, if it weren’t for how stern he sounds. It almost scares you. Almost. Hoping to soften him, you fit your thumb into the dimpled fabric of his tie, and use it to drag him forward, offering a tender kiss on his cheek. Returning the embrace, his stubble scratches your face as he smiles against you. He reaches behind you for another sip of his drink and his unoccupied hand slides down your back, squeezing your ass through the silky fabric.

You are burning, fire licking up your arms, your neck, your face. It’s too much, to have him so close and not be able to have him. All the tension building with nowhere for it to go. When he pulls back, you lean forward.

It’s a little rough at first, because you are so desperate, tasting the vodka, drawing his bottom lip between your teeth. Kendall is the one who softens you, cradles your jaw to draw you closer, opens his mouth and deepens the kiss, so deliberate and practiced that you’re unable to speak when he pulls away.

“Tell me something,” full lips so close to yours that they brush your own when he speaks, your eyes fluttering shut. His touch coasts up your sides, up your arms, landing on your shoulders. “Who are you showing off for in this?” Kendall hooks his pointed finger around a spaghetti strap of your dress, and lets the elastic snap back against your skin. You savor the sting it leaves behind.

Admittedly, there’s a third reason why you’re being so withholding. He’s so spoiled, so used to getting what he wants, whenever he wants it. Not just from you. And when he doesn’t get it, he becomes petulant, fiery. You’ve learned that if you piss him off just enough, you don’t have to ask him to fuck you within an inch of your life. He just does.

So, you decide to poke the sleeping bear, shrugging and crossing your arms like it’s nothing, giving him a demure smile. “You wouldn’t know him.”

Kendall’s nostrils flare as his hand rises to grip your jaw – tightly. “Uh-huh.” Even if you’re only joking, the very idea of you dressing up at all – let alone like that – for anyone except himself, pisses him off. “Fuck you.”

“You’d like to, wouldn’t you?” you try to keep your voice even, but it sort of loses the steadiness you were hoping for when he hooks a finger behind your knee, dragging it up across the expensive, soft wool of his slacks to peg around his hip.

The bruising kiss that answers is clearly intended to erase the smug look on your face, and it works – your breath hitching, the hand on his tie tugging him closer. Kendall seems to speak without saying anything at all, grabbing your opposite thigh and lifting until you are perched on the edge of the countertop.

It’s getting real, but you still haven’t decided if you are actually going to stick around. The way he looks right now, however, swings the pendulum farther into the side of staying in – red lipstick left behind on his cheek, shirt wrinkled, tie hanging loosely around his neck. You wanted to make him look even more wrecked.

Kissing him again, his hands begin to roam, tugging the dress off your shoulders and freeing your tits. “Shit,” He dips his head to sloppily mouthing at the newly exposed skin. “Knew you weren’t wearing a fuckin’ bra.”

“Ken,” you squirm when he latches onto one of your nipples, pinching the other between two fingers. “I really need to get going.”

“Not yet,” he hums, the vibration of his voice against your skin makes the space between your legs ache. “If you’re going to go out in this fucking dress, I don’t want you to forget who you belong to.”

You squirm in his grip – not because you want to get away from him – but because you want to see if he’ll pin you in place, be even rougher. He does. He is. “Stop that. This isn’t a fucking negotiation.”

Well, okay.

He kneads into your thighs now, one of his hands dipping beneath the skirt of your dress that’s already so short he’s only an inch or so away from your already-soaked panties.

“Fuck,” You tilt your head back to look at the ceiling, like you might find some self-control there, some will to resist him, but it’s about as cold and uninspiring as the rest of the apartment. “Please.”

Kendall lets out a dark chuckle, pushing aside your thong and brushing his knuckles against your damp cunt. He loves to tease, and right now is no exception. His touch isn’t enough to satisfy, so you press yourself forward to seek it out yourself. You don’t dare meet his eyes, which you can feel are watching you intently, admiring how you keen and arch and whimper in frustration. Still, you aren’t quite ready to beg.

Thankfully, you don’t have to. Without warning, he pushes two fingers inside you, groaning as he does, his thumb finding your clit.

“Yes, Kendall, that’s–” you don’t finish the thought because you aren’t entirely sure what you actually have to say. His digits curl, attentive, practiced – tuned in to exactly what you like, what you need. You grip at the fabric of his shirt that’s bunched around his elbows. Despite how intense meeting his gaze right now will be, you turn to look at him anyway, surprised by the affection and warmth you find in his eyes.

“You try so hard not to be,” he says while he continues to stare you down. “But you’re always so fucking good for me.”

Your stomach flips, partly in shame, partly because of how good it’s always felt to be seen by him. Throbbing around him, feeling your pleasure build, but he withdraws his fingers from you before it can crest. An embarrassing noise leaves you, squeezing your eyes shut.

The clink of his belt unbuckling immediately snaps you back to reality, and you hike your dress further up your hips, shimmying out of your thong. It’s pitiful, the way you don’t want to delay any longer the feeling of him inside you.

He strokes himself in his hand, lines his cock up, and pushes a piece of hair off your face.

“You want me?” he asks, and you bob your head enthusiastically. “Tell me, then.”

“I want you, Kendall. Please, I want you so bad.”

“Yeah you do,” he mutters, and wastes no time jerking forward to enter you.

Though you’d had him plenty of times you never could quite get used to the feeling – he’s big, of course, and it’s always electric, the blood in your veins buzzing, your hands tightening on his shoulders.

“Relax, honey,” Kendall says, feeling the way your body tenses at the intrusion, placing a hand on your sacrum, one between your shoulder blades to steady you.

He presses his hips forward until they are flush against your own, bottoming out inside you, pausing. It’s welcome at first, a chance to catch your breath, to let out a shuddery exhale - temporarily appeased by the way your cunt stretches to accommodate him, and he’s so close to you after so much time spent away. You’re embarrassed at how badly you’ve needed this, how reliant on him you’ve become, but he always feels so good.

Kendall stays still for long enough that you grow frustrated, and you use his tie to pull him closer, loosening the knot and rutting against him until he presses his thumb into the crease of your hip and thigh so hard you are forced to stop. Once you do, he starts to move, thrusts slow but deep, lips pressing hastily between panting breaths.

“Fuck, it’s been too long,” he laments.

Despite everything, you can’t help but talk back. “You don’t say?”

Kendall doesn’t like that at all, his hips snapping at a punishing pace, which seems more like a reward than anything else, his hand clasping your jaw roughly, forcing you to look at him.

“Don’t speak to me like that,’ he warns.

An involuntary, low moan leaves you. It’s overwhelming – always is. You aren’t used to sex with someone you feel so connected to, or with a lover who is so attentive to your needs, who effortlessly strikes a perfect balance between rough, passionate, and tender.

You wrap your legs around his waist, fingers fumbling with the buttons on his shirt, anxious to run your hands through the smattering of hair on his chest, feel the warmth of his skin under your palms. Even if it’s not possible, you want to be closer to him. Needy. So needy. You’ve heard it from him before, and would probably hear it again. He is right, and in moments like this, you can never bring yourself to care. You like it.

He’s watching you so intently, and the rest of the city might as well be too. He basically lives in a fishbowl, you’re surrounded by windows that offer panoramic views of the glittering lights of the city. The only reason you have any privacy at all is because of just how high up you are, no one else can actually see you right now. Even if they did, what could possibly happen? Kendall loves to take advantage of this – he’s taken you up against the cold glass windows, has let you sink to your knees in front of him out on his balcony.

“What are you gonna tell your friends when they ask why you were so late tonight?” he asks. “Gonna tell them you were letting me spread you open on the fucking counter?”

“God,” you stutter out, always shocked by the things that come out of his mouth when takes you like this, voice deep and firm, enunciating each syllable like he’s giving a speech – frustratingly collected. It makes you ache that much more. “I missed you,” you whimper, pulling his shirt off his shoulders. As much as you want it fully off, not just hanging loose around his elbows, you don’t want him to release you from the bruising hold he’s got you in. This would have to do.

“Uh-huh,” Kendall answers by fucking into you even harder, his pelvic bone kissing your clit with every thrust, and your nails etching crescents into his biceps. “I know. I’m sorry.”

His head falls to your shoulder in a brief moment of humility, lips working on your neck, and you feel your release fast approaching. In moments like these, you don’t doubt how he really feels. He gives it all away, tries his best to make it up to you, and it’s so easy to forgive him. Kendall’s fist wraps around one of the stiletto heels of your shoes, lifting your leg to hook over his shoulder and drive his cock deeper into you. He’s perfect, feels perfect, there’s no one else who makes you feel the way he does. When his thumb begins to rub delicate circles around your clit, you’re gone.

Your body tenses up for so long, you actually think you might’ve psyched yourself out. And then everything releases. Kendall coaxes you through your orgasm, deep voice muttering things that are either unintelligible or that you wouldn’t dare to repeat out loud, and you cling to him while your cunt pulses in waves. It lasts for a long time, or at least it feels like it does, he slows just to fuck you through it, so you can both savor how good it feels. That’s it. That’s my good fucking girl. When he tries to kiss you, you oblige, but it’s open-mouthed and sloppy since you’re struggling to breathe and can’t stop whispering his name.

“Ken, you’re so good, it’s so good–”

You know he likes to be praised just as much as you do. He cuts you off with a deep kiss, moaning into your mouth and vibrating every nerve in your body as he follows you over the edge, spurred on by your own release. He buries his cock inside you as deep as he can, you feel warm and full and complete.

For what feels like a few minutes, you remain tangled with one another, his face buried in the crook of your neck. You can feel the soft puffs of his breathing against your skin, which is now damp.

Eventually, he draws back, kisses your cheek and tucks himself back into his underwear. You pull the straps of your dress back into place and when you push yourself off the counter, realize your legs are trembling and you wobble.

Kendall reaches to steady you. “Go sit down,” he squeezes your arm and you barely manage to stumble to his couch before you’re slumping against the cushions and struggling to unlace the strappy heels you’ve still got on.

He joins you a moment later, placing a glass of cold water on the coffee table and kneeling to help you out of your shoes. You can only imagine what you must look like, because he looks disheveled, shirt still hanging open, pants unbuttoned, your lipstick still smudged on his cheek. Exhausted as you are, it makes you want him all over again.

He settles next to you, pulls you to his chest, and you wrap your arms around his waist, leaning up to whisper softly in his ear. “Ken,” he turns his head slightly, cheek pressed against your forehead. “I love you.”

From this angle you can only see the corner of his eyes, the way they crinkle as he looks down bashfully, eyelashes nearly touching his cheeks at your admission, words he so rarely has heard before. Words you have vowed to repeat until he believes you – because sometimes you think he doesn’t. Still, he answers. “I love you, too.” You close your eyes a moment, your heart rate returning to normal, and take in one final deep breath. Content.

“I don’t want to keep you from your friends,” Kendall says eventually, hands in your hair, tugging gently so you’ll look up at him.

“Right,” you nod. “Honestly, I don’t know if I even want to go out anymore.”

“But you got all dressed up,” he smirks.

“Look where it got me.”

He laughs. “Uh-huh. You knew what you were doing what you fucking put that shit on.”

You don’t deny it, feeling your cheeks grow warm. It’d be too easy to stay with him, to slide across his lap and kiss him until he takes you again. But your phone dings on the counter, and you know you can’t abandon your friends entirely. You sigh, pulling away from Kendall and looking him in the eyes.

“Don’t worry,” he encourages. “I’ll wait up for you.”

#succession #succession writing #kendall roy #kendall roy x reader #kendall roy imagine #kendall roy smut #kendall x reader alliance please rise!!!!

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ldrfanatic · 3 months

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love made me crazy

Theodore Nott x Reader "13" Series pt 3 warnings - cursing prob, smoking, etc, idrk no major triggers

translator series masterlist <previous chapter next chapter>

slytherin boys masterlist navigation

As you walked through the stone corridors at Hogwarts, you tried to ignore the stares. A few of Theo's groupies had taken to staring you down and whispering behind your back. Ever since you found out about the dare, Theo had been all over you. Flowers, carrying your books, bringing you gifts, large romantic gestures and the like. It was causing his fangirls to dump all of their frustrations onto you.

A few girls in yellow and gray were staring you down with unsatisfied looks. Their apparent ring leader approached you. Her face was twisted in mock surprise but there was a mean glint in her eyes. "Now someone tell me how is that a girl like you has had Theodore Nott drooling over her?" You rolled your eyes and shoved past her.

She grabbed your arm pulled you back. The hallway fell silent and all heads turned towards you. She pulled an ink bottle from her satchel and poured it over the top of your head.

"Oops."

Everyone in the corridor starting laughing at you. Suddenly, Theo appeared behind her. He whispered something into her ear with dark eyes. Heather's face blanched and her eyes started to water up. She turned and fled quickly down the corridor, her friends scurrying after her.

Theo offered you a hankerchief, the letters T.N. embroidered on it. You wiped your face and hands with the cloth and then passed it back to him.

"This doesn't make us even Nott. It is still your fangirl that did this."

Theo rolled his beautiful eyes at you and you used all your might to smother the butterflies that stirred for the first time in weeks. In fact, you hadn't actually spoken to Theo in weeks. His deep voice caught you off guard when he spoke suddenly.

"I didn't do this to be even with you. I did this because people should know better than to threaten my girl. And now everybody knows your my girl."

The butterflies vanished as the more unbearable side of Theo made its appearance. However, it was different this time. Usually he was arrogant with a fully inflated ego. This time it wasn't arrogance. You'd been studying Theodore Nott long enough to tell the difference. The way that his italian accent slipped and thickened his voice. The way that his eyes lost their usual bored look and darkened with jealousy.

The kind of signs that made you want to be careful with his heart even though he'd been careless with yours.

Your eyes softened as they met his.

"I-" You took a deep breath and tried to ignore the way that your heart cracked. "I'm not your girl Theo." You spoke softly. Soft enough to hear the way that his heart cracked too. "What did you say to her anyways?"

You hadn't noticed, but the two of you began walking together down the corridor.

"I just reminded her that she was threatening the girl that held the heart of the son of one of the most powerful and dangerous Death Eaters in the country."

"But you hate your father."

Theo stopped and grabbed your hand softly. "I'd do anything for you. I'd kill my father if you asked me to. I'd..." He breathed deeply. "I'd kill everyone if you asked me to."

Your breath caught in your chest. "How can you say that?"

"You can't blame me, sweetheart. My love for you has made me crazy." A corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk. He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to your now cleaner forehead. "See you later, dolcezza."

For the rest of the week, you tried not to think about Theo. It was hard. He'd actually been doing better. He'd quit smoking. After he caught the snitch at the last quidditch match, he'd flown over and given it to you. Much to Madame Hooch's displeasure.

Now, rolling the small golden ball around in your hand, you tried to ignore the bubbling feelings in your stomach. Whether or not you'd reacted too quickly to his betrayal shouldn't have caused you guilt. It shouldn't have mattered. He lied to you.

Yet you couldn't find it within yourself to be angry any longer. And the urge to hear him out on whatever he had to say was getting more and more unbearable.

Which is probably how you found yourself pacing in the Slytherin common room waiting for Theo to come down from the boys dormitory after you'd asked Lorenzo to retrieve him. "You wanted to see me, bella?" You stood there looking like a fish out of water with your mouth wide open like an idiot.

"I did."

"Why?"

You sat on the dark green couch and pat the seat next to you gently. Theo crossed the room and spread out in the seat next to yours. "I just thought you might deserve a chance to explain yourself. I never really let you before." You looked down bashfully at your hands.

"There's no reason to be shy. We've known each other for years. And while I do appreciate the opportunity to explain myself, I hope you know that you don't owe me anything doll."

"I know, Theo."

Theo sat up a little straighter and took your hand in his own. "I want you to know, I truly never intended to hurt you. When the guys found out that you had a crush on me, they wanted to play a game with you. They bet me 25 galleons that I couldn't break your heart in a week."

Your eyes welled up with tears. It was true. Theodore Nott had gone out with you on a dare.

"But the dare never mattered to me, Y/n." He scooted closer to you on the couch and took your face in his hands. "I never accepted the money. Even after. I only accepted the dare because I wanted an excuse to get closer to you. And I told myself that it didn't matter if you found out or not. That either way I'd win. But it does matter. I don't want you to get hurt. I just want to be with you."

"I can't Theo."

He stood abruptly from his seat next to you. "WHY? You asked me to explain myself and I did."

"I'm sorry Theo. But explaining yourself does not give you any right to my love. I forgive you. I understand now. But I can't trust you, so I can't be with you. I'm sorry."

Theo scoffed and walked briskly out of the now silent common room. The same one who's floor was covered with the shattered pieces of not one, but two hearts.

3.28.24

#Spotify #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x reader #taylor swift #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys #slytherin

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mrsmikaelsxn · 1 year

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Tears Of The Sky

masterlist

pairing: niklaus mikaelson x female reader

warnings: fluff and kissing, also a pinch of jealous nik

summary: a rainy day with klaus - requested by @viavolterra-wp

a/n: via i'm gonna get to the angst request for klaus but i suck at writing it and i'm trying to come up with something depressing to write about lmao, i hope this fills the void in your soul <3

song: valse sentimentale, op. 51, no. 6 - pyotr ilyich tchaikovsky

You groan as you hear your alarm go off. You contemplate on whether or not you should throw it out the window.

"Shut off the bloody alarm," Klaus says from his spot next to you on the bed.

You reach over and press the stop button before looking outside. A smile makes its way to your face when you see the rain pouring down. You turn and kiss Klaus on the forehead, "Nik, get up, it's raining!"

"So?" He pulls the blankets closer to him, effectively ripping them off your body. After dealing with that for so long, you don't even bother trying to steal them back.

"Well, we can't let a good rainy day go to waste, can we?"

"Of course we can, love."

You roll your eyes and huff as you fall back on the bed, "Well, if you don't get up, I guess I'll have to find someone else to spend the day with. Maybe that brunette Salva-"

In an instant Klaus is up and on top of you on the bed, "I think my company would be better than his anyday," he narrows his eyes at you.

"I don't know about that," you push further, "he was good company that one night a few weeks-"

You are cut off as Klaus starts tickling your sides, "What was that, love?"

You squirm under him as you try to break away, "Nik! I c-can't breathe! Stop! Please!" Your laughs make him smile, showing his beautiful dimples that you love so much.

"Hm, since you asked so nicely," he stops and falls next to you on the mattress. His head is resting on his arm and he looks at you with adoration in his eyes. "You're so beautiful, sweetheart," he whispers.

Your face heats up at the compliment. "I also think you are very pretty, Mr. Scary Original Hybrid."

He grins, "You think I'm scary?"

"Oh, not at all, you are a soft puppy," you take a hand and squeeze his cheeks.

He playfully scoffs and grabs your wrist, "I am not a puppy."

"Sure you aren't. Anyway, I was thinking we could bake some cookies."

"Great idea, love."

You two get out of bed and go to the bathroom. You both brush your teeth, hair, and after having a small water fight, you wash your faces.

You head to the kitchen with Klaus behind you. You grab a bowl and place it on the counter, "Nik, can you grab the butter, flour, eggs, sugar, and chocolate chips."

He nods and gets them while you grab a whisk, pan, and preheat the oven.

"Thank you." You two now add the ingredients into the measuring cups so everything is prepared. "Okay, do you want to do the honor of pouring the first ingredient," you ask him.

"'Course I do," he grabs the flour and holds it over the bowl.

"Pour it slow-"

It was too late. He flipped the cup upside down and although most four stayed in the bowl, there was a good amount now floating in your faces. Klaus and you swat your hands and cought a bit at you breathe in the flower.

"Oops. Now I know for next time," he shrugs.

"Who says you are going to pour it next time?"

"Me-"

"Let's add the softened butter and eggs now," you put them into the bowl and handed Klaus the whisk. "Stir gently, please."

He nods and as he stirs you slowly pour in the sugar and then the chocolate chips.

"Perfect! We can start rolling them and placing them on the pans."

You two roll them into balls and space them out on the baking pans before putting them in the oven. After washing your hands, you and Klaus go into the living room as he picks a movie, "The Parent Trap? Nik, you know me too well."

"What can I say," he grabs a blanket and tosses it onto the couch. You sit down and cuddle with him on the couch as you wait for the cookies to finish.

The timer on the oven goes off and you stand up, place the oven mitts on, and take the two pans out, putting them on the stove. Nik appears next to you and he goes to grab one but you slap his hand away. "No! They are too hot, Nik. You'll burn yourself."

"Pfft, I'm an Original, love. A cookie isn't going to burn me," he goes back to grab one. You sigh and watch in amusement as he places one in this mouth, jumps around while it burns him, rushes to the garbage to spit it out, and then goes to the sink to spray cold water in his mouth.

"What happened to, 'i'M aN oRiGiNaL, lOvE. a CoOkIe IsN't GoInG tO bUrN mE.'"

He crosses his arms and walks out of the kitchen back to the couch. You laugh and follow him to continue the movie while the cookies cool down.

Now you were laying on a couch in Klaus' art room as he painted you. "Nikkkk, this is taking forever," you groan.

"Don't move, love. I'm almost done."

You think for a moment, "Isn't the butterfly effect crazy?"

He lets out a deep sigh, "Not this again, love. Last time you made my brain hurt."

"It's just like, interesting to think about. If I take one step in another direction, that changes my whole life. That brought me to thinking about other dimensions."

"Other dimensions?"

"Yeah. I heard somewhere that there could be other dimensions where there is every other choice you could possibly have made. That's a lot of dimensions."

"I'm confused," Klaus glances at you and continues to paint.

"Here's an easy example, if there was a fork in the road and I chose one choice option, in another dimension I would have chosen the other."

"Ohh, that makes sense."

"Yeah, so then I was like, wondering if there are several versions on ourselves living on earth in the same timeline."

Klaus drops his head, "Sweetheart, I don't know how much more my brain can handle."

"Okay, I'll save that one for another day. It's hard to explain anyway."

"I'll hold you to that, love. I just finished anyway, come and see," he says excitedly. Although he has hundreds of drawings and paintings of you, he gets just as excited to show you them each time.

You head over to where he was sitting in front of his canvas, "Nik! It's stunning!"

"Not as stunning as you," he winks at you.

"I love it, Nik."

"And I love you," he pulls you to him and places his lips on yours. You pull back after a bit and leave him in a daze.

It's now afternoon time and Klaus said he was going to take you out to dinner. He told you to dress up but you were stuck on picking a dress. There was only one person you could call for help on this matter.

You go and grab your phone, scrolling through the contacts, before calling the number. After about two rings, the call is picked up.

"Bex!"

"Hello, angel," you hear the voice of your best friend come through the phone.

"Bekah, I miss you so much."

"I miss you, too. Is Nik being tolerable? If not I can come and rescue you and we could run away together."

"Yes he is, but I'll take up that offer any day."

"Great! I'll start planning."

"Before you do that, I need your help. Nik is taking me to dinner and I can't pick a dress. I have three top choices but I need you to pick from them, please," you say while grab a perfume you are going to put on.

"Sure! Send me seperate pictures of each one and I'll text you which one I think you should wear."

"Thank you! You're a lifesaver, I love you so much."

"Love you, too. Call me again soon!"

"Of course, bye Bex."

You hand up the phone and send pictures of the dresses. A minute later you get a response from her and you smile. You throw on the dress she picked and you go into the bathroom to do your hair and makeup.

You finish getting ready and put your heels on. You go downstairs and see Klaus on the couch waiting for you. He hears you and turns, he has you clench his jaw to keep it from dropping.

"Are you ready to go, Nik?" You stroll towards him and grab his hand.

He blushes and stutters out a yes. He grabs his car keys and you grab a large umbrella. Klaus grabs you by the waist and speeds you both into the car so you were barely wet.

On the drive there, Klaus let you choose the music - which barely ever happens. You, of course, took that to your advantage.

You get into the diner and the waiter takes you to a booth. You order drinks and Klaus glare as the waiter as he takes your food order.

He walks away nervously and you put your head on your hand as your elbow rests on the table.

"Is it really necessary to glare at the poor boy?"

"Yes it was. He was staring at you."

"Usually when you are talking to a person, you look at them."

"He was stuttering."

"Probably because you were scaring him."

"But-"

"You get jealous too often."

"I can't help it, you are too gorgeous."

"I promise you that you don't have to get jealous, Nik. I love you," you smile at him.

"I love you, too," he grumbles.

The waiter comes back with your food, "H-here you go, enjoy."

You smile at the boy and whisper, "Sorry about him."

He nods and smiles back before walking away.

After Nik pays for the dinner, you too go back to the car. Once you arrive back home, Klaus carries you inside and speeds you to your shared room.

He tosses you onto the bed and goes on top of you. He kisses you so passionately that it speaks so many words.

You tug on his hair in the back and he puts a hand on your waist and one resting on the bed next to your head.

He bites your bottom lip and slides his tongue against it. You open your mouth and move your tongues against one another. You both pull back breathlessly after a few minutes.

"I've been waiting for that all night," Klaus says.

"Of course you have. Do you want to get ready for bed?"

"Sure," he kisses your cheek and rolls off of you.

Klaus speeds to the bathroom across the hall to get ready and you use the one in this room. You take off the makeup and jewelry. You do your nighttime routine and throw on one of Klaus' shirts and a new pair of underwear.

You hop into bed and pull the cover over you. Klaus joins you and you hand him the remote, "You can pick what we watch this time."

"Hmm, decisions, decisions."

He finally picks a movie and you are surprised to see it was Twilight. "You enjoyed the movie?" You recall back to when you introduced him to the saga and he seemed like he hated it the whole time.

"Not exactly, but it's fun seeing the way they made vampires and werewolves."

"Touché."

You lay your head on Klaus' chest while he plays with your hair. Your eyes flutter shut about an hour and a half into the movie. He kisses your head and whispers, "Goodnight, my love," before falling asleep.

553 notes · View notes

killshotbabe · 1 year

Text

Title | Acquainted

Pairing | billionaire!Jaehyun x bodyguard!reader ft. NCT

Warnings | minors dni! slightly rude!Jaehyun, Jaehyun and reader “don’t get along”, use of swear words, brief mention of a bad injury (not to main pairing) sexual tension, solo masturbation, voyeur tendencies, fingering, face riding, choking, smut, slightly rough, unprotected sex (please wear protection!) creampie, slight breeding kink?

Word count | 4k (Got carried away oops!)

Song(s) | My All - Larissa Lambert (cover), Hopeless - Always Never

A.N | This was so goddamn long than originally planned but enjoy!

“Maybe you should leave.”

He suggested, cutting you off mid-sentence as you were explaining why it would better for him to take another route you’ve spent some time going over with the private personnel.

It had gone through the approval of your chief in charge as well having to have earned his full trust in the past but what you didn’t expect was for Jaehyun, your current boss in flesh, to reject your entrance and exit plans for the upcoming 50th charity ball he’s going to be attending in a few in two weeks.

The charity ball that was supposed to be tended by his father but after suffering what happens to be his third stroke, he made an ultimate decision to pass his head of position down to his only son, Jaehyun, who’s going to eventually earn it anyway by the time his father succumbs into old age and eventually die and be buried six feet under but due to his worsening health, Jaehyun officially took over.

Not one blinked an eye after such huge announcement has been made.

Some would say it’s a bit “pre-mature” you think, but it was the only right thing to do.

After all, no one wanted the Jung Empire to crumble into its last feet and from what you heard, Jaehyun is quite popular despite being the youngest from the line-up of old, obnoxious balding men.

It wasn’t like as if he preferred to live a different life — he had the option to do so, but he’s always wanted to follow his father’s footsteps since the very young age. He went from eavesdropping to his father’s meetings behind the door, and sometimes he would bring his toy cars into his father’s study and sit on the plush carpet as his father spoke to the phone, ball point always on-hand, glass of wine to the side. Jaehyun did this for as long as he can remember until they began to fit him into custom tailored suits to wear when he goes to his father’s meetings with him or without him which he had been tending to for the past few months, so this was not something new to him.

The new thing, though, was you being appointed his new private bodyguard due to the increasing tension coming from the outsiders who are threatened by Jaehyun’s sudden take-over. From what you do know, they have been keeping an eye on his father since the news of his illness (which the private sector has tried to keep in the shadows) leaked to the press, spiking gossips and rumours from nobodies. This also caused a major rift, threatening the future of the company Mr. Jung has been taking a great care of for decades, and even if he may be the nicest person in the world of business — he’s more prone to having enemies waiting for him to fall apart and now that Jaehyun has begun his long journey as the new head of The Jung enterprise, a new target has now been placed on the back of his head.

All was left is for him to try and dodge the bullet with your help, of course.

But that wasn’t going to happen easily — not when he’s not been a good sport to you.

At first, you thought he was just getting used to being the new chairman so you decided to back off and let him take a breather, but soon you find out he does have a rather mean streak and preferred to be alone and do everything alone. He doesn’t really speak to anyone at home too. You would see him chat with the head maid from time to time and maybe greet the security and other staff guarding his home but that was about it, he had no close relationship with them even if they worked with him and Mr. Jung for a while, which you find quite sad, but it was still none of your business.

You’ve only been here for around two weeks and you do reside in his home as well, but it did feel like you lived else where.

His luxurious house — composed of a total of four levels, shiny marbled floors and expensive hand-picked art adoring the wide plains of the black tourmaline walls felt rather strange to you. It was often quiet whenever you walked into the hallway at the dead of the night with the occasional swoosh from the french windows gracing your sharp hearing. You’ve only spent an ample of time doing security checks around his home but you haven’t been to any specific rooms even if you do memorize the entire floor plan and know which room is which, including the hidden underground bunker built into the house which you hope you wouldn’t end up using at all if shit does hit the fan.

Other than yourself, the security and the rest of the morning staff do not reside in his home but in a separate complex nearby so technically, it was just you and Jaehyun confined in such a huge space.

Mr. Jung lived somewhere else which you have been once or twice but compared to your first impression to both, you’d rather stay at Mr. Jung’s just because it felt like someone was actually living there and you don’t really mind the smell of tobacco. Here, at Jaehyun’s however, didn’t feel like that at all. You wouldn’t even know if he’s at home if the cctv didn’t notify you of his arrival (and your phone too because you can actually track his whereabouts) or until you see a faint light from his study or anywhere else really.

Jaehyun didn’t like keeping bright lights on so his house appeared to be more eerie and colder when the sun is no longer in the horizon. You got used to it rather quickly though. It was peaceful, maybe too peaceful for your taste but it’s better than sleeping at your old apartment where the next door neighbours would often fight, their harsh words penetrating your thin walls, and plus, the head chef and maid cooks great food. You couldn’t complain about that when you have been given the chance to not worry about any groceries anymore to keep you alive and kicking.

You like to think you’ve hit a jackpot since accepting this newly-appointed job: to be Jaehyun’s second eyes and iron shield and you thought it was simple but things were never simple.

Life didn’t work like that but at the very least, you’re alive and breathing.

At least I’m alive and breathing.

You chanted like a mantra as you forced a lump in your throat, still holding your ground in front of Jaehyun who made no effort to even took at you in the eye.

“Jaehyun.”

You try again, stressing that he needs to approve your plan before you can fuck off the premises which you’ve been wanting do the moment you stepped a heeled foot into his spacious study. If it wasn’t for the low murmur of jazz playing softly from the turntable close to his mahogany desk, you would’ve yelled at him by now but you chose not to.

You pride yourself as his main bodyguard and you didn’t want him to treat you like some doormat.

“Didn’t you hear what I said?” He flipped through a couple of pages from a stack of papers he’s been reviewing for God knows how long and there was more, but he kept it tidy and very organized, and yet you can’t help but feel his mind may not be the same right at this moment. “I said no.”

“You could end up in a bad situation. Had you not realize your enemies are trying to threaten you lately?” You say, tone coming off stern than how you’d like it to be. “Have you not been noticing the extra security we’ve been adding for you this past week?”

He paused, sighing and you think you may have won a little but if anything, you just pissed him off even more.

“Just do whatever the fuck you want, alright? Your job is to protect me so take it upon yourself and move. No need to run it by me.”

You fought not to grit your teeth, composure still straight. “Well, you could’ve just said yes to begin with. Easy as that and I would be out the door.”

“Your plan has too many unnecessary changes.” He began to type on the keyboard, still not sparing you a glance. “I don’t like it but whatever makes you sleep at night.”

“I’m doing this for you.” You reminded, ready to turn your back to him and out. “A simple “yes” would’ve been easy and I follow a protocol which involves me to ask you for an approval first. Like it or not, this is in my contract and you, out of everyone else here, should know. Have good evening, Sir.”

You found yourself out of his study just like that and made your way to your room wanting to take a cold shower after your useless exchange with Jaehyun.

When you were gone, all he did was lean his head over his leather seat, eyes fluttering close with an exasperated sigh leaving his lips.

For the next week ahead of the charity ball event he’s sponsoring as one of the main ambassadors, you stuck by him always walking three steps ahead to clear the area before it’s deemed safe for him to move. You and your team stayed alert and hot on heels, especially when there have been a surge of crowds garnering for him and it did nothing but bring stress to you and your team. Not only had the threats against him and his family empire had gone worse, but his own “fangirls” as well.

You thought it was over once you and Jaehyun make it back home until you found two young girls that couldn’t be younger than eighteen taking pictures of the car he has used on the way back from a meeting.

The meeting was short and it was his only schedule this afternoon so you didn’t tag along but still dispatched two personnel from your team to be with him so you can finish your annual report your chief wants you to complete before the end of this week. It was by chance actually — you typing away with the security panel on your other screen when a lone taxi drove by the gates two times. Anything more than that was deemed suspicious you had to watch carefully and soon enough, you found yourself outside with girls’ camera on your hand which you had confiscated.

You recognized one of them as one of the socialite’s daughter which you do consider as a major threat — The Chois were just as powerful but they haven’t been on their A-game lately especially when they’re competing with Jaehyun.

You drummed your hand on top of the taxi’s roof, peering closer to the girls who are now blinking owlishly at you. One of them looking like they’re about to pee their pants after seeing your gun holstered to your belt loop.

“Are you girls here to see Jaehyun? He doesn’t give autographs.” You joked, other hand sifting through the gallery of their DSLR. “Do you guys work for some damn magazine I don’t know about?”

“No—um we,” The bleached blonde one stuttered as you deleted all of the shots they got of Jaehyun’s. “We’re fans of his…”

“Well, what do you know about him?” You raised a brow, satisfied with your neat work but refused to give it back to them yet. “Last time I checked he’s just some really powerful billionaire dude… Aren’t you supposed to be in school?”

The brunette smacked the blonde’s one knee, attempting to stop her from responding to you and further reveal why they’re here to begin with. She did know who you are and you being a total cutthroat by your poise and how you held yourself whenever you’re with Jaehyun and she was scared of you, truly.

“We… won’t be back here anymore. I’m sorry.” She begged, round eyes trying to make you feel pity even if you already know the way she behaved whenever she’s there on sight when she’s not supposed to. “Please give the camera back to us…”

But you didn’t make it easy. If it’s not for their family then it’s possible that they’re working with whatever media outlet is after Jaehyun too.

Nonetheless, you decide to give the camera back considering it wasn’t chipped or anything which you checked before you cleared all of Jaehyun’s pictures.

“If I see you two out here again, you better stop what you’re doing and if you’re working for someone, put an end to it.” You tossed them the camera with a glare. “I’ll let you go this time but I won’t next time, then you’ll wish you never met me at all.”

The girls nodded quickly, blood draining off their faces as they begged for the taxi driver to floor it. You wait until they’re out of sight before heading back, meeting Jungwoo, one of the security personnel, on your way in to the foyer.

“Just some girls.” You shrug. You do make a note to do some more research about them later though. “Is he upstairs?”

“Yeah. He said he was going to sleep so I’m leaving now and rot out there. Don’t tell him I stole an orange from the kitchen.”

He grinned, showing you the round fruit in his palm.

Jungwoo was a new addition too, but you do think he built a better relationship with Jaehyun considering the fact that you caught them joking around at one point and you think that wasn’t fair.

You couldn’t blame Jungwoo though. He’s super chill and smiled a lot unlike you with your permanent scowl embedded in your face. It did bother you from time to time, but your relationship with Jaehyun has gone to shit since the beginning (for a reason you don’t know) and you think it’s because he just doesn’t like having a tail following him around even if the nature of his work required one.

To this day, you have already accepted your fate when it came to him. You were here not become his friend after all, and you can tell he sure he feels the same way.

Work was work and you had a contract to fulfil until then. You weren’t here for the sake of having your feelings involved.

“Bold of you to assume he’d notice.” You smiled, sending him away. “Just help yourself whenever!”

“K! Have a good rest of the afternoon! Mark also says he’ll be late for security check!”

“Got it!”

Once you heard the front doors shut, you climb back upstairs and back to you room to resume where you left off. By 7:30 pm, you find yourself waking up from an accidental nap you took in the middle of conducting your report. You cursed and planned to do your finishing touches but not without a cup of newly-brewed coffee on your side so you find yourself in the main kitchen, helping yourself up when the head maid padded down the hall, calling your name upon seeing you.

“Have you eaten yet?” She halted just beside you as you stirred a spoon into your coffee. “You can’t be drinking that without eating anything? I made mushroom soup for dinner. Made steak too with potatoes.”

“Maybe later I will, thanks.” You smiled sheepishly as you take a sip from your mug. “I just had a snack so…”

“You could’ve just joined Jaehyun earlier.” She whispered, teasing you with a pinch on your elbow which caused you break into a sudden yelp. “He looked really tense…Almost felt bad for the steak.”

You shook your head, placing your cup on the counter, folding your arms to mimic the head maid.

“Isn’t he always?”

“True, but he just looks lonely being alone there I keep wondering why you two won’t just eat together.”

You could only shrug, the visual of him sitting alone eating dinner in a huge table wracking your brain.

“We don’t get along.”

“Oh c’mon…” The older lady rolled her eyes at your predicament. “I’m getting real sick of watching the two of you avoiding each other like the black plague unless you’re out to chaperone him. We thought you’d would work especially when you’re around his age, and I know he can be a pain in the ass but why not try with him? This house is too damn big already.”

“You know I’m just here for work…” You murmur, letting her words affect you a little anyway because she was the only one who could sense how you really felt no matter how many times you voluntarily plunged yourself in denial.

You remember the first time they introduced you to him just a couple of weeks go.

It was on sunny day and the start of fall. You always liked fall because there’s always a positive shift in the air even if it slowly got colder. You like to think of it as letting go of the dead things you can no longer care, or hold closely to your heart that you’ve wanted to get rid of as your life went by.

From your old position to becoming Jaehyun’s bodyguard did raise a lot of new opportunities and new surroundings as it required you to move to his place. You were giddy and quite excited, wanting to leave you former apartment situated in busy area from not-so-good side of the city. The raise was also splendid— you think if you keep this position for one year you’d be able to buy a better apartment elsewhere and have a whole space for yourself and you know you will eventually get there.

But what you didn’t really expect was how rude Jaehyun had treated you since the beginning.

When you were introduced to him by your chief, all he did was nod and went on his day with you tailing after him as you shadowed his old bodyguard days before they were to be dispatched overseas permanently. It was nice when the bodyguard was there until you woke up in his shoes, now calling all shots and leading the whole team which had been exhilarating at first, but you knew your capabilities and thought highly of yourself, even if Jaehyun doesn’t really acknowledge or has ever initiated a conversation when you’re alone in a room with him.

You can’t really pinpoint what his deal was — you thought he might be misogynistic but that wasn’t the case. There were women in your team and he treated any woman no different like how he treated the rest, at least from what you noticed. You didn’t want to confront him about it as well seeing that it might just sound dumb and too far-fetched but your gut have been telling you there’s more to it. You just didn’t know how to approach him about it, not when he’s too busy and has other priorities to tend to than listen to what you have to say concerning your feelings.

He doesn’t even like the plans and changes you make for him regarding his entire safety, what more about how you really feel?

But you were still a human being and you know you will be treated as such so eventually, you’ll bring it up but not today, not anytime soon at least.

“And work it is…But try to get along, okay? I may not be here all the time but I can sense the sour atmosphere whenever I clean up.”

You chuckled, leering close to her. “Maybe it’s just the dead souls buried under the house trying to get your attention…”

“Hey, don’t say stuff like young lady! You know how superstitious I can get.” She backs off you, not liking the fact that you just brought up “ghosts”. “…Maybe I’ll sage the entire house the next time you guys are away again! Don’t want Jaehyun to smell it and complain.”

“I don’t think he’ll care. He hasn’t been to anywhere else but his floor lately.” You laugh, placing your hand on the shorter woman’s shoulder. “So do it anytime. I like the smell of it.”

“Fine, I will. Just because I like you like that.” She pats your hand, thanking you for your little massage before sending you off with your coffee. “And don’t ditch dinner!”

You make sure to eat around midnight, completely lost in you report.

You ate more than you could possibly take in one sitting but didn’t care if it was going to give you a stomach ache which you had attempted to sleep off, but around 3 am, you find yourself unable to go back to bed so naturally, you sat upright and leaned against your headboard, laptop on-hand and see if you maybe watch one of those scary indie games on youtube.

You found them weirdly comforting and often watched them but before you could put one on and have it lull you back to bed, the live footage of Jaehyun’s dim-lit room suddenly flashed into your screen in full-size.

You can’t help but panic a little since you were not supposed to watch him at such ungodly hour. You were given this specific access from hours 6-9 pm. That was the arrangement, but it didn’t mean your master access would disable the live feed during after hours. You have full control of it so it was all up to you, and it’s not like someone is actually keeping track of how many times you’d watch him, not when his room is only for your eyes and nobody else’s.

You were just about to hover your mouse to the top right corner of your screen and exit out of the window when he stirred in his sleep, calling your attention. Not even a couple of seconds later he, too, sat up and leaned against the headboard, mimicking your current position.

You raised a brow, feeling a little intimate with the current situation — he’s literally sitting there with his eyes closed and he had no shirt on, showing you what was hiding beneath his usual suit jacket.

You blinked, rubbing the sleep from your eyes before you found yourself peering closer, unable to take your eyes off him and his bare skin riddled with great abs. You knew he did work-out but still…

“What the fuck am I doing…” You shook your head in utter disbelief, feeling like a total creep now. “I should probably go to sleep.”

You smack yourself on the cheek and tried to exit out of the window when your peripheral vision caught him slide his hand under his blanket, palming himself with closed eyes, a serene look on his face.

You suddenly forgot how to breathe.

Your pupils practically quivered when he parted his pretty lips just slightly so he could spit on his hand before rubbing his bare cock with it again and again for you to see, instantly making you snap your thighs together as you became more hyperaware of what he was doing in front of you. You tried so hard to look away from the screen, shut your laptop close and forget this ever happened but you simply couldn’t look away — not when he just pulled the comforter down to his knees, revealing his hard cock — standing upright, hypnotizing you to come closer and see which you did, jaw going slack upon realizing he was, in fact, big too.

You watched him give himself a few generous pumps before he laid back down, a half-grin on his face as he continued to fuck himself in his fist. You like to think he’d made a sound from what you’re seeing and it only did nothing but make you wet, your arousal already soiling your underwear as you forced yourself not to do anything about it at all. You think you should feel any ounce of guilt right now, having to watch a very private moment, but your head had gone to mush and you just couldn’t bring your hand to exit out of the feed.

He was too beautiful, fucking himself into his fist like that with a lazy smile gracing his face — the type of smile you’ve never seen him do in person.

Oh, you wished you’d be the one making him feel good like that..

As he rutted himself into his fist, on the way to reach his peak, you found yourself snaking your hand between your legs now spreading it wide in front of the feed. You swore at how incredibly sensitive and soaked you’ve become as you moved your thong to the side, biting your lip when you smeared your wetness all over your aching pussy before eventually sliding two fingers in, your eyes blown with nothing but pure desire as you watched Jaehyun attentively, slowly pumping your fingers inside you in the same rhythm he was going.

When he eventually did come, rewarding you with spurts of his cum landing on his toned abs, you did too, with your hand clamping around your mouth to prevent yourself from moaning too loud.

He went back to bed like that, his expression so peaceful as you tried to catch your breath, your own wetness slipping out of your cunt and on to your bedsheet between your trembling legs.

You didn’t sleep that night.

The morning hours before the commencement of the charity ball, you begrudgingly delivered Jaehyun’s three piece navy suit to his study thinking he wasn’t inside but at the rooftop pool.

Much to your horror, however, he was in fact inside his study and he was shirtless with just some grey sweats hanging low to his hips, jet black hair combed backwards and still damp from the shower he just took. You almost dropped the neatly-wrapped black box onto the floor when he advanced to your side to retrieve his phone from his desk. You cleared your throat, backing off. “It’s from Prada.”

“Yeah, and you were supposed to pick them up, right?”

You stopped on your heel, halfway his wing already. You didn’t think he’d catch on to be honest. You knew you were supposed to pick it up for him but because you didn’t get any sleep, you ended up sleeping in for a couple more hours until Mark, one of the night personnel, knocked on your door to pass you his daily report after he couldn’t find you somewhere in the ground floor.

“I’m sorry. I just missed my alarm.”

You lied, hoping he would just let it go. You didn’t even think he’d care about it at all. It’s not like you overslept the entire day and completely forgot about your tasks today.

You thought about him last night again, a flush of warmth creeping on your cheeks but you fought to push those sinful thoughts away.

“Well, don’t be late next time then?” He turned his back to you so he can open the box and examine what’s inside.

You scoffed, trying to look away from his nicely-sculpted back muscles and proceeded to be on your way out when he suddenly called your name for the first time since the first day you’ve been appointed to be his bodyguard.

It caught you off-guard for a second there but you refused to provide him with any type of reaction when you spun around and met his eyes.

He has an unreadable expression on his face — something you couldn’t quite read but it did nothing but make your heartbeats pump faster than normal.

He leaned his hips to his desk, lean and muscular arms perched behind him to the flat surface.

“You have a good eye, do you?”

You raised a brow, trying so hard not to cast your gaze from his neck and down south, his grey sweats mocking you. It was the same one he wore last night.

“… Maybe?” You trailed off, not that confident like he presumed you to be with your chin high, eyes almost as dark as the evening sky and your signature red lipstick painted perfectly on your lips.

You somehow didn’t have that on today like the usual and your long black hair, always pinned and tied, just flowing smoothly on your back.

He sensed there was something off, but he liked the look you sported today. It made you look younger and innocent-looking.

He wasn’t going to lie, it did tickle his fancy.

“Then come by later and help me choose what looks good.”

You feel his wondering eyes scrutinize you for the first time, and you couldn’t help but stay still, not breathing at all until he turned around and disappeared into a corner of his study, leaving you stranded in the middle of it all.

For how many times you wished he’d learn to acknowledge you, you now sincerely hoped he never did because with the way he was looking at you just now, you couldn’t help but feel there is something else in those dark brown eyes.

Whatever it was, you think you wouldn’t be ready for it.

“We’re taking my route.”

You announce as you got on the passenger side with Jungwoo behind the wheel.

You’re on your way to the charity ball right now with Jaehyun on his phone, conversation seemingly boring but you still listened, taking notes.

He’s put on a patterned suit jacket instead of the navy one Prada brought for him and he looked too gorgeous in it like he always did but today, you think this might be your favourite look of his so far — jet black hair pushed back with a strand falling on his forehead, his neck adorned with a dainty silver necklace accentuating his regality… You were quite bummed you didn’t end up choosing anything for him due to an emergency meeting he had to be a part of when he was getting ready too so you chose to take your time getting ready instead, picking a total of three outfits you’ve laid to your bed before eventually gunning for the satin number in ivory.

You like to think you didn’t do so bad yourself too. If not, this has been the most dressed you’ve been for this type of occasion. You think you could get used to this at some point but it was still a little overwhelming for you.

You didn’t like being a part crowds reeking of nothing but money and gin, and chatting with any socialites at all even if you had to just because you’re Jaehyun’s bodyguard. You wished you had Jungwoo’s or Johnny’s post, only situated up the corridors hiding from plain sight to watch for any suspicious and unusual activity. You had to be more alert for it, but at least they stayed in the shadows unlike what you’re going to be doing once you and Jaehyun arrive to the ball.

“Don’t keep a long distance but stray closer to him, alright?” Your chief instructed at least two days before the event. “Just received a note from the sector and said someone from there might try to harm him, so be on the look out. I’m sending more back up in case.”

Saying you’re not that nervous might be an understatement.

You practically shivered on your way out of the car, cursing at the lack of clothing you wore for the event. You did have an option to wear slacks, but you wanted to wear a dress this time around since slacks was your regular uniform, and you wanted to look like you’d blend into this type of crowd as well, not wanting to stand out like a sore thumb (which you already do) but least you could do is pretend.

Pretend that you’re a socialite for once and what chief said, “Act like his equally rich girlfriend.”

“I’m off. Rendezvous in…three hours?” Jungwoo hummed as Jaehyun took off, leaving you with Jungwoo by the staircase. You scoffed. “And…he’s off. Ugh, tell him not stay here for more than three or i’ll eat my fucking fist.”

“Make it two and a half. I hate shit like this.” You sighed, waving him off. “See ya. Don’t fall asleep.”

“Ay-ay Captain!”

Midway into the charity event, you started to yawn as you watched Jaehyun having a pleasant conversation with a group of older men, some of them without an arm candy or if they did have one, they were from the overseas — all tanned and blonde with a variety of luxurious brands all over their outfit.

You thought they were rather tacky so you looked away, reaching for another flute of champagne to get rid of the nasty taste of some fancy snack you tried earlier. Something about an “escargot,” which caused Jungwoo to cackle devilishly from your earbud before translating what you just ate.

You felt like gagging, hating the thought of snails being digested in you right now but since you couldn’t leave Jaehyun alone as he continued his rounds to mingle with every damn guest in the room, you had no choice but to suck it up and hope the champagne can help get rid of the taste.

You could only stand there, watching everyone like a hawk before your gaze eventually fell on Jaehyun who was casually smiling to a girl dressed in dainty blue chiffon, accentuating her slim build.

She was cute, couldn’t be younger than him and she’s patting him on the chest now, getting a little brave with her manicured hands.

“Butter knife just arrived.”

You cupped the earbud plugged in your ear, still keeping an eye on Jaehyun.

“He’s here? Jungwoo, is he alone?”

“No… wait— Johnny says there’s one more coming from south. White van — fuck, it’s Sanchez!” There was a harsh whisper on the other side. “You have to get Jaehyun out of there.”

“He’s fucking surrounded with girls, I just— continue reporting to me I’m getting him out now.”

You suppress the panic surging through your veins as you slowly approach Jaehyun now being flocked around by female socialites right in the middle of the ballroom.

“I don’t think anyone is suspicious in the ball right now — Yuta said but just, yeah get him out. Chief found Sanchez being a part of the Amos cartel. He’s a fucking traitor.”

“Yeah, I know. They’ve been on the radar for days. They’re invited aren’t they?”

You stop by your tracks before you proceed, finding a small gap between several bodies you can snake through and hopefully get Jaehyun out of there soon.

“Yeah. They’re under that old bastard, Brekker, so leave. Jaehyun did his talk part anyway.” Jungwoo snapped. “Mark is waiting right in front of your exit, right behind Centennial. Go.”

And so you did, now latching a hand around Jaehyun’s wrist, pulling him out of the growing crowd and into you.

“Sorry, ladies. Judgment calls!”

He waved, a little tipsy as you dragged him towards your left exit and into the hall, not letting him walk on his own without you tugging his hand.

You whipped your head around, noticing Jeno one of the back-up posted up far away from your left. You share a brief nod before you proceed to one of the shortcuts which led to a narrow dim-lit hall, dragging Jaehyun behind you, his hand now clasped around your wrist.

“Wait, wait— slow down!” He half-yelled, unable to catch on.

“No, we keep going and I’ll tell you after. Just let me do this, okay?” He was about to say something else when you called Jungwoo, using your free hand to tell him to shut it. “Jeno’s on watch. Is Chenle okay?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about that kid. Are you almost out? Should take you no more than two minutes.”

“Yeah,” You walked hastily as Jaehyun jogged beside you. “I got Jaehyun with me. Will be out soon.”

“Okay, okay great you’re almost there and — what? Who?” There was a murmur and a static noise interrupting you conversation which caused your brows to furrow but you kept going, the sight of one of the unused doors just a couple of steps ahead of you.

“Shit! Hey, you guys keep going. I’ll call you later.”

You blinked rapidly, free hand fixed to your earphone. “What? No — what the hell?” You grumbled but let it go as you made it out of the building with Jaehyun who’s now looking at you, noticing your worry but decided to leave it be until you found yourselves on the backseat of Mark’s car.

“Jungwoo just ditched me and I don’t know what the hell is happening inside.” You pushed Jaehyun to the side, your arm fixed to his lap as you spoke to Mark, now exiting the back alleyway and into a different route avoiding the main street. “You got any updates?”

“They’re saying one of Amos’ people got into the corridor.” Mark said, eyes focused of the road. “Chenle found him but he wasn’t alone. He should be fine though, I trust him.”

“But who’s on that floor? We made a last minute change just earlier.”

“Renjun — hey, strap yourself up though I’m about to speed so we can get off the intersection. Don’t worry about the guys.” He said rather sternly to try and get your mind off the gutter but something felt wrong and you can feel it in your gut — and you were always right.

“You have to tell me when Jungwoo’s on.”

You sigh in defeat, still quite tense when you felt Jaehyun tug your seatbelt for you, coaxing you to slide it without saying anything on which you eventually did. You were so glad he didn’t even bother interjecting but kept quiet, letting you and Mark talk and fill in the creeping silence.

You muttered a “thanks” to Jaehyun but made sure to stay alert until Mark gets any updates or maybe yourself, but for some reason you had a feeling it wasn’t going to come to you.

“There has been a break-in the corridor. Surveillance team are okay, and Chenle’s in the ER. Cops are on site. Had to get everyone out of there but no one sustained any bad injuries. Chief’s on duty and says you did a good job. They will control the press when this gets out.”

Mark closed the door behind him, eyes on his phone. You swore under your breath and started to pace around of the hotel room you had booked in advanced when something like this takes place.

You thought of Chenle and clenched your jaw, glaring at Mark.

“It’s not your fault. He just miscalculated. Assailant went for his leg.”

“With a knife?” You exhaled and sat back down, Jaehyun just on the other bed, gaze falling on you and a slightly nervous Mark who couldn’t help but loosen his tie. “Please tell me it was a damn knife and it wasn’t deep.”

“Yeah, a little deep but he’ll live. Hey.” Mark squatted now as he levelled with your gaze with his. “I promise I’ll update you but I’ve gotta meet up with Jungwoo and Johnny and check surveillance around the compound, alright?”

“Yeah… Go, I’m sorry but please, please update me about Chenle, okay?”

“Will do. I know he’s your fave just because he’s the youngest. He’ll be okay. Yeah? Mark smiled, tapping your knee attempting to sooth you. “If he finds out you were so worried about him it might get to his head so simmer it down and try to get rest.”

“Okay…”

You watched Mark leave into the hallway as the door automatically closed, trapping you and Jaehyun in a hushed silence.

It didn’t fully sink in that you were alone with him in one room until he voluntarily broke the silence, tiredness in his deep voice so evident.

“Who was it this time?”

You slowly twisted your torso to face him.

“Brekker.”

“I trust that he’ll soon find himself behind the bars by you, right?”

His eyes remained closed as you slowly found yourself tracing the outline of his black slacks and all the way to his patterned suit jacket, and finally, his peaceful riddled face — the exact one you saw through the live feed last night as he gave you a slice of heaven.

A scarlet hue spread on your cheeks. He looked like he just jumped out of photoshoot whilst you sat there, looking a little out of it, dress semi-wrinkled and with your lipstick drying out into the cracks, eventually making it ooze out some blood. You rubbed a finger across it, flinching from the sting.

“We’re working on it and trying our best.”

You say a little quietly as your ear perked up to his relaxed “hmm”.

You attempted to distract yourself from the sheer worry coursing through you, so you decide to get up and head to the en suite bathroom to wash the minimal make up from your face and only slipped out after a quick bath, wearing a spare night wear as you darted back into the now dim-lit room, seeing Jaehyun had already fallen asleep in the same clothes.

You could only exhale, feeling like you’ve been holding your breath for so long.

You gave him a slow glance as you occupied the other bed adjacent to his, sliding yourself further to the other side of your bed before you switched your phone on to read two new messages from Mark. Chenle was still okay, but he will have to be confined in the hospital for a few days due to a nasty blow he endured by the ribs requiring immediate treatment.

You sighed, texting him back and Jungwoo before you placed your phone back on the bedside table, leaving the yellow glow from the lamp next to you, gradually lulling you to sleep.

You woke up at 3 am, all parched so you went for a drink then back to bed. You couldn’t go back to sleep, however, which resulted in a series of rolls and turns trying to find a position you’d be comfortable sleeping at.

“Can’t sleep?”

You gasped, back fully turned from a sleepy Jaehyun lying somewhere in the darkness.

Was he awake this whole time watching and hearing you struggle?

“I think.”

You pulled your comforter over your shoulder, now awake, glazed eyes staring up the ceiling. You traced the victorian details on the ceiling above you as you hear Jaehyun move.

From your peripheral vision, you can see the outline of his arm, his long sleeve now rolled up to his forearm, making you clench your jaw.

“You’re still thinking about Chenle?”

There was a genuine concern on his tone, which surprised you, but after what happened today, you knew he couldn’t afford to make you feel like you want to shoot yourself in the head, and if he hadn’t, you’re not sure if you’d even let him sleep. You could fight him if he did try to frustrate you more but this wasn’t bad — the calm was good. It soothed you even if you felt like you were about to cry earlier because of what happened to Chenle, though you did keep in mind that this was your first.

Just as long as they’re safe…

“A bit.” You chewed on your bottom lip. “He’s the youngest… I think I’d go crazy if something happened to him.”

“But he’s okay. And that’s all that matters, right?”

“Yeah.” You swallowed a lump in your throat, your back still facing him.

You could feel him stare at you now and it did nothing but send goosebumps all over your skin.

There was a suffocating silence that seemed to last for eternity and you thought you’d be able to just force yourself back to sleep somehow until you hear Jaehyun talk again.

“You did a good job today.”

His words alone made you blink owlishly.

You thought you were going to melt right there and then and you, so badly, want to hear him say that again than deal with his usual condescending tone but you couldn’t be greedy.

“Do you hate me?”

You asked out of blue, seeing as this might be the only right time you could have a heart-to-heart with him. The both of you are stuck in one small space after all.

You didn’t need to find him and vice versa, so you went for it after a sudden bravery shot up into the surface.

But he didn’t answer.

You were about to repeat yourself again when he cut you off.

“Maybe.”

“Really?” You scoffed, tongue poking to the side of your mouth. “You never really acknowledge me, you know?”

He was quiet as you tensed up, continuing on with your little rant anyway now that you had suddenly developed the nerve to try to find out what his deal was and why he seemed to not be fond of you at all.

“Since the day we met… We don’t eat together…We live in one house and yet—“

“I don’t think you want to know.”

Upon hearing him say that, you pulled yourself up from your bed, fists falling to your side as you stared at him in the dark. You could make out his face and everything else. It didn’t even seem like he moved any muscle at all, so you allow him to bask in his short-lived peace before you stood by the foot of his bed, fury embedded in your eyes.

“Don’t you have some basic human decency?” You try not to lose it. “You treat every body else nice but when it comes to me…”

“Don’t start.” He warned, still laying down but he’s now staring back at you, his dark eyes penetrating yours in an endless battle you drew upon yourselves.

“I want to know why and you will tell me.” You declared, not taking what he said as a warning. “Right. Now. Jaehyun.”

“You really want to have this conversation right now?” He was back on his feet now, towering over you as he inched closer to you, a bite of sheer frustration and anger in his next words. “You just piss me off. I didn’t want you.”

“Did I even do anything to you for you to hate me?” You barked back, chin up high as you attempt to stand your ground but you soon found yourself backing away as he continued to advance, threatening to trap you. “I don’t get you at all! I’m the best from the recruits and I don’t care if you have little faith on me—“

“I don’t care if you’re the best.” He jammed a hand just above your head, caging you against the cold wall. “But your chief shouldn’t have given you to me.”

“Why not? God, just stop being fucking cryptic and tell me!’ You yelled, one hand pushing him off by his chest only for him to grab your hand and spin you around, your cheek meeting the wall with a small gasp knocked out from your chest as he locked your arm behind you.

“You’re a lot. Fiery and always held your chin high no matter what. Makes me want to mess you up a little.” He rested his chin on your tensed shoulder, his next words in a light whisper, and yet it had venom, poisoning your bloodstream. “Calling all the shots, bossing me around, trying to fight me while you look like this?”

You let out a wanton gasp when you feel his callused hand run up and down your inner thigh, his intoxicating, manly warm scent invading your senses.

You think you might have blacked out for a moment when his warm hand made its way to the curve of your waist, the soft material of your camisole being lifted by his fingers as he rubbed your bare skin, his darkened gaze attentive to the pleased expression you made for him.

“Jaehyun—“

“Do you understand now?” You feel his plush lips brush your nape, his hand snaking all the way up your skin. “I thought I could get rid of you without having to do anything, thinking one day you’ll just walk out and leave but you stayed. Then I catch you touching yourself in your room a couple of times because you couldn’t be bothered to shut the fucking door close. You know I’m home.”

You feel your pussy throb as he proceeded to grope your bare breasts, fingers playing with your hardened nipples. “You keep doing it so many times I was starting to think you’re fucking crazy.”

You genuinely thought he wouldn’t be able to find out knowing he doesn’t lurk in your floor — but now you know he does and maybe, there was always this sick fantasy you kept to yourself, thinking that one day he’d catch on and have it all figured out. It was only a matter of time until he can pin you to the wall like now, and have him ruin you when he hates you so much, might as well use that to intensify the obvious sexual tension between the two of you with no romantic feelings involved.

Or…was there?

“I think you want to pursue this for me to fuck you like I hate you, yeah?” He chided, a low chuckle gracing your ear. “Answer.”

“I—“

“What happened to being confident?” You let out a small whine as he palmed your clothed cunt. “If I find you wet, you lose sweetheart.”

He didn’t even let you speak as he slipped his fingers into your underwear, rubbing your clit in circles. You can feel the sudden rush of wetness ooze out of your pussy, soaking the fabric and you couldn’t help but groan, your face heating up.

“Jaehyun… Please…”

You moaned, struggling with the way he has pushed you further down, back arched for him as he continued to play with your pussy, the hard ridge of his cock in his slacks grinding on your ass.

“You want me to fuck you?”

“Yes…” You huffed, any ounce of anger being replaced by pure arousal surging through every part of your body. You don’t even think you could say anything as you attempt to tighten your legs around his hand, not wanting to come right there and then when he hasn’t even plunged a finger or two but he didn’t waste time, cutting you off as he eventually pumped a finger into your pulsating cunt, earning a matching groan of relief from the both of you.

“You’re so fucking wet.” He grinned deviously as you cried onto your arm, muffling the loud moans trying to escape from your throat. “Bet you can come without me fucking my cock into you.”

“F-fuck!” You screamed, eyes clamped shut when he rammed his fingers into you faster, building a steady rhythm until your legs started to shake under your weight, already about to reach your peak when he noticed, cursing at the way you would repeatedly squeeze your walls around his fingers.

“Do you wanna do me a favour?”

He kissed the side of your jaw as you shuddered beneath him, mouth hanging open but no sound threatening to spill out. You thought he has successfully rendered you speechless as your gaze started to blur, teardrops sliding down your rosy cheeks from how good he was giving it to you.

“Sit on my face.”

You almost came on his fingers after he said that if it wasn’t for how fast he slid his fingers out of you to drag you to his bed.

You literally collapsed on his chest as you weakly spread your thighs a part, his strong arms helping you out as he urged you to hover on top of him before he slipped your clothes and underwear off, letting it fall on the carpet.

Once you braced your hands on the headboard, a pinch of hesitation wracking your nerves, you feel him raise his head willingly and push your bare pussy into his waiting mouth, sucking and licking your surging wetness from your pussy, feeling like you’re about to explode.

“Jaehyun— f-fuck, right there…”

You hissed, knuckles turning white on the headboard as he slipped his tongue inside your hole, fucking you with his jaw flexing, hands tight around your waist you were so sure he was going to leave a mark. You fucked his face ruthlessly, him being the most eager one who kept pushing you down and down until he his tongue jutted in and out, licking your slick walls before he lapped onto your clit, ultimately bringing you to the brink of an intense orgasm about to knock you down.

You came in his face in no time, a loud cry leaving your lips as you shuddered violently, wanting to get off his face due to over-sensitivity but he forced you to sit still, his plush mouth tasting the mess you’ve made for him, his free hand cupping his hard cock in his slacks.

You clutched your chest, unable to contain how fast your heartbeats were as you tried to calm down, sliding off him. He unbuttoned his dress shirt, eyes on you, his now moist mouth where your pussy has been, spreading into a contented smile which you lazily returned. You sat there, mouth agape as you watch him unzip his pants, palming his cock right in front of you.

“Come here.”

You crawled to him, his hand reaching out to trace your jaw, thinking he wants you to taste him but he shook his head, his dark brown eyes blown with nothing but carnal desire. He was going to give you the chance to suck him off, but he just couldn’t wait to fuck you, so he urged you to sit, hand positioning the pink head of his cock for you to sink into as you begin to tremble, getting more soaked at the sight of his cock being offered for you to use.

“I want to feel you,” He groaned into your ear as you lifted your ass and brushed your pussy on the head of his cock, letting it rub some off dripping wetness all over your pussy before you carefully sank in, whimpering just halfway in. “Good girl… You can take it.”

Once he was fully in, Jaehyun sunk lower to his pillow, bringing you with him so he could fuck you relentlessly in this position, disabling you from doing anything else but rest on his toned chest and have him fuck you hard as he pleased. You arched your back, one hand fixed to the headboard as Jaehyun thrusted into you, causing you bounce up and down of his cock, his sweet mouth latched on one of your breasts, sucking and biting your nipple ever so lightly.

“H-harder… Fuck, Jaehyun-n!”

You drove your fists to his pillow as you and him shared an intense gaze after he sucked onto your breast and let go. He bit his lip, in complete awestruck with the way you were losing it for him like a good girl. You almost cried yet again from how fierce he was looking into your eyes when he reached out to grab the base of your throat, lightly pressing to the side and choking you as he drove his cock harder and faster, simultaneously hitting your g-spot too to bring you into another mind-blowing orgasm.

“Fucking cum.” He said between gritted teeth as you tilted your head backwards, tears sliding down your face, his cock disappearing in and out of your cunt, the muffled loud noise of lewd squelching between your bodies bouncing off the walls, disrupting the quiet at such ungodly hour. “C’mon pretty girl…Fuck yourself on my cock just like that, yeah? Good, good— fuck you’re so good to me…”

You rode Jaehyun harder, panting as you met his own thrusts, nearing to the edge until you felt something snap in you.

You screamed into your open palm, free hand locked around his wrist choking you when you came for the second time, trembling around his cock, squeezing him until he pulled out, about to ask you where you’d like it when hastily slipped his cock back into your pussy once again, leaving him no choice but force him to spill inside you.

“On pill.”

You chuckled breathlessly, feeling his cum slide out of you and into the base of his cock.

You watch him arch his back with a deep groan, his hands flexing on your waist as you slowly lifted yourself off him only to leave a trail of open-mouthed kiss down his toned abs until you’re just inches away from his cock. You didn’t even let him stop you when you licked the leftover cum from the base of his cock, not wasting any drop which caused him to grab you back up, his thumb wiping some off your lips and slipping it into you mouth for you to swallow.

“You’re fucking nasty. I guess I do like you.”

“Makes the both of us, don’t you think?”

You feel him circle a hand around your waist as you laid there with him, naked, eventually joining him under the covers.

“I agree. What do you think the head maid would say if she knew?”

“That her manifestation worked…? Jaehyun you should know this things. She’s into crystals, for God’s sake.”

“So far, it’s all clear. We’ve enhanced the security everywhere so I think it’s okay. It’s up to Jaehyun though if he’s good with staying at one of the rotational houses within the perimeter. Of course, you’d have to move with him too but you can take one of the personnel with you. We’re gonna have to suspend his public schedules for now until they finish the investigation. “

“Great.” You sighed as you padded down the white-washed hall with Mark, getting sick and tired of the strong antiseptic scent of the hospital. “Watch out for Chenle, too. He looked like he wanted to pluck his IV drip away and fuck out of here.”

“He did want to try it many times, but will do, and hey?”

You spun around as Mark gave you a brown envelope. You tucked it into your purse as he scratched the back of his neck, lips all pursed.

“What.”

“Make sure you don’t have the earbud activated when you’re alone with uh…Jaehyun.”

You blinked, a little confused until you felt your face go in flames, swearing at Mark and then playfully whacking him on the shoulder.

“Whatever!” You rolled your eyes, starting to bolt into a different direction to catch the elevator as Mark broke into a high-pitched laughter, giddily waving you off.

“I won’t tell chief! But I think you gotta buy Jungwoo some condolence wreath!”

#jaehyun smut #jaehyun x you #jaehyun x reader #jung jaehyun smut #nct smut #nct 127 smut #billionaire!jaehyunforever #kpop smut #killshotbabe #one shot smut #imsorryjungwoo

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ss-skyearn · 1 year

Text

Walk With Me

❝In love with the idea of loving you.❞

PAIRING : Lee Minho x female!reader.

WORD COUNT : 4k.

GENRE : Smut, Fluff (wow no angst for once.)

WARNINGS/CONTENT : Past angst, established relationship, feelings and emotions, they're in love (to no one's surprise), Minho with long hair, mentioned Soobin.

SMUT WARNINGS : First time together, hair pulling (not the rough kind; minho realises he enjoys his roots being tugged at oops-, this bit inspired by this post by @tasteracha), voyeurism, public sex (late at night, so one witnesses it), unprotected intercourse, sweet lovemaking, so much love and feelings *sob*

A/N : Writting fluff is nowhere near what I'm good at, so feedback is really appreciated. Enjoy, lovelies. ♡

"Everyone can see."

It's a little too late for that now.

But it's not a complaint, not a protest, an objection. It's a simple statement, divulgence of facts, a declaration made by your brain that has long since lost the ability to conjure lucid postulations.

"Let them. Let them see," quickening of thrusts, desperation rearing its head in the most sinful of ways.

"Let me show them how much I love you."

"Meet me outside?"

The laughter of your girlfriends drowns out behind you as you weave your way out of the single room you've all gathered in, despite having been allotted seperate ones.

"Outside?"

"Yeah, outside," you don't need to be next to him to know that he's anxiously bouncing off the balls of his feet, rocking back and forth with his bottom lip caught between bunny teeth you flick your tongue across everytime you kiss him, without fail.

You'd have to make it a point to let him know of your adoration for them the next time he decides to take your breath away with his hot mouth.

And make no mistake, that's what kissing him is like, like losing your breath, like gaining your breath all over again; like being locked in an airtight, evacuated room, like being put on the ventilator with nothing but pure oxygen being pumped straight to your lungs.

It's dizzying either way. Whether it's being deprived of the gush of wind through your airways, or being forced to choke up on all the withheld supply of air all at once, it hurts.

It hurts to be with him. But you'll choose to be hurt, to be on the receiving end of the pain, if it means he's the inflictor, the hand on the trigger.

"Right now?"

"Yeah, if that's okay," he's nervous, something you both are a lot around each other from time to time.

"Uh, okay. Okay, yeah, I'll be out in a minute."

"Okay, good. That's good," you hear shuffling, and imagine him moving from one foot to the other, "I'll be waiting outside the dorms."

"Outside the— what if someone sees you?"

"They know anyway."

Which is the truth. Inherently the private person, you'd asked Minho to keep your newly budding relationship a secret from your peers, a request he'd agreed to almost immediately. Ever the understanding and gentle soul, he'd not once asked to go public with you, even though Hyunjin told you how he sometimes drunkenly mumbles about wanting to hold your hand when Soobin gets a little too close, about wanting to get you coffee on 7 A.M. Tuesday lectures when he knows you haven't slept for more than two hours, about kissing you under the lights on prom night when all couples got their fancy on and indulged in each other after a tough semester.

He wants, yearns, craves.

But you'd been cruel enough to deny him that. Trust issues and fear of commitment aside, you'd been afraid to tell people, to introduce him as your boyfriend, because saying that aloud would make it all the more real, and you'd no longer be able to control the flutter to your heart every time he appeared in your peripheral vision, you'd no longer been able to hold back the intensity of your feelings that seeming only grow with each passing hour, minute, second you spend looking at him.

It had scared you. Understandably so.

Caught up in over your head, you hadn't stopped to consider what it all meant for him, what he might perceive this as. He had no way of knowing what you actually felt, not unless you told him.

It all happened a week ago, when your phone dinged with a notification from Hyunjin. Instead of telling you, he sent you a video this time, a video of Minho slumped back against the wall of the speakeasy you both frequent, eyes shut with his head resting on the concrete.

dumplin [2:57 A.M.]

VID_3653833_219389.mp4

he's been like this for half hr

"I love this place," his intoxicated form had rasped in the video.

Hyunjin who was behind the camera had snorted, asking the reason for the sudden confession.

Minho had grinned, all toothy, bunny smile on display, "I come here all the time with my girlf—" only to stop dead in his tracks, eyes snapping open, neck suddenly ramrod straight with panic all over his drowsy features.

"Your girl..?" Hyunjin had prompted from behind the camera, barely stifling his chortle.

"Uh, my, my. Oh god, I don't know. I don't know what I was saying."

He always was a bad liar. Even in his hazy eyes, even through the shaky video, you could see the hurt, the pain behind his actions as he rubbed the heel of his palms against his eyes, chugged a bottle of water to sober himself up.

"It's okay, Minho. I know. We all know."

"Know what?" he had asked, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth.

"We know you're dating the dance society president."

His eyes had widened, a fresh surge of agitation creeping its way onto his otherwise relaxed face.

"No. No, that's not true. Who told you that?"

Hyunjin had chuckled and told him he was the one who introduced you guys, and the other six seated on the table were among the very few people who did know of your apparently secret relationship.

"I don't know what you're talking about. She and I are just frei—"

The video had cut off there and half an hour later, you found yourself asking the local security guard for directions to 'The Late Bite'.

The bejewelled smile he cast your way as you entered the dining space lasted only a fraction of a second, him going back to pretending you were mere acquaintances and your heart had all but given up.

Marching to him, you had gotten him up on his feet. Ignoring the confused, almost frightened look to his face, you had for once asked your brain to shut the fuck up, and finally given in.

You kissed him. You kissed him on the mouth, swallowing the gasp he let out, ignoring the gasps the people in the diner let out, cradling his face with care befitting a porcelain doll, for truly, he was. As fragile as fine china, as delicate as the first rays of sun hitting the horizon.

Not the tough guy he pretends to be, the hard exterior, the unbreakable shell. You know him to be none of those things.

The dazed smile, the look of blatant relief he'd given you before collapsing on you, mumbling a small breathy, "thank you," was all you needed to know that you'd made no mistake. This was how it was supposed to be, always.

And so it had began.

He held your hand when Soobin got a little too close, he got you coffee on 7 A.M. Tuesday lectures when you were running on two hours of sleep, he held your nape and kissed you under the nightlights, because prom had passed by then but it didn't matter to him, he had kissed you, kissed you, and kissed you some more, till your head got fuzzy from the lack of air supply, till it was physically impossible to stay connected for even another second.

And that's how you find yourself here, making your way out of the girls' dorm in the quiet of the night, it being well past midnight by now— not before checking your reflection in the common bathroom once, fluffing out your hair, splashing some cold water onto your face.

He's standing under a street lamp with his hands into the pockets of his fleece jacket, unmatching with the track set he wears underneath.

He's the single most picky person you know when it comes to styling outfits, deciding what goes well with what, which colour compliments the undertones of another one. Well, besides you of course. Your friends teased you both about how you were practically cut from the same cloth, the same material but different textures, so alike in all the places that mattered, so different in all the places that didn't so much.

So the beige jacket atop the cherry red track set stands out a little too much, and your heart thumps a little too fast at the possibility of his eagerness to see you outweighing his need to look presentable at all times.

You shuffle forward, heart picking up its erratic staccato, the same way it does every time he's within a mile's radius, threatening to jump out of the confines of your ribcage, trying to lunge for what was once so out of reach, for far too long.

He's reclined against the street lamp, eyes closed, head thrown back against the cool metal pole, allowing the ombre light to fall straight onto his fluffy mop of hair. It's unstyled, freshly washed. The caramel tone compliments the muted yellow light streaming down his face, painting him, drowning him.

Your heart aches from running a mile a minute.

Or from feeling so full. You aren't exactly sure.

"Hi," you squeak tentatively, not wanting to disturb him when he looks so peaceful. And beautiful. God, he looks beautiful.

His eyes flutter open. Your heart breaks open with them.

He forgoes pleasantries in favour of wrapping his arms around your shoulders, pulling you flush against his chest, and you hold him back, hug him back, squeeze him like you never want to let go. Because really, you don't. Not now, not ever.

"Where's your jacket?" he mumbles into your shoulder, stroking his face back and forth against it, much like the stray cat that visits your dorm room at nights does.

"Mm?"

He chuckles, "It's cold out. Why didn't you put on a jacket?"

"Oh," you pull back, there's pink dusting your cheeks, and you really hope it passes as the consequence of the chilly night, "I guess I forgot."

He smiles wide, affectionate and all kinds of pretty, and the tear in the front of your heart deepens, curling a little to the back, threatening to split it into two.

It's not so impossible a situation, you suppose. Lee Minho is very much capable of shattering your heart into a million pieces with a single smile, then healing it back with a kiss to your temple, breaking it along new cracks, then moulding it back together with the same blowtorch he uses to melt sugar atop his Crème Brûlée, the blue flame made all the more hot with searing kisses, aimed at trapping you into this cycle where he plays with your heart, keeping it with him to do as he pleases.

And you'd let him. Let him have his way with you, to make you, unmake you, only to make you again.

You're his clay, and he's your artist.

You're brought back to the present as a sudden warmth engulfs you, and when you look over your shoulder to see the beige fleece jacket dropped around you, it warms you from the inside too.

"Hey, you'll catch the cold, you have an assessment tomorrow too—"

He shrugs, "I'll live."

"Minho, seriously I'm fine, here take it back—"

"It doesn't match my fit anyway," he entwines your fingers together and begins slowly walking, guiding you along.

It's then that it clicks. Glancing down, you take note that the jacket actually goes with your outfit, and you refuse to pick up on the reason for this coincidence, for certainly, it's not one. It's planned, thought out.

You'll ignore it all the same. For the well being of your poor heart that's working overtime, your senses that are on high alert, your hand, so so warm engulfed in his large one.

"Where are we going?" you ask instead.

"Just a night walk," he begins, and you've spent enough time with him by now to know that his voice sounds bashful, the little shy lilt to it endlessly endearing, "wanted to spend some time with you."

You clutch at your chest with the other hand, exhaling a deep sigh, and squeeze his hand, praying that it's appreciation enough, that it compensates for your inability to verbally acknowledge his thoughtfulness.

But if there's one thing that he's, without a doubt, mastered about you, is your tells.

He knows when you're too abashed to outright admit it out loud that you appreciate him.

He knows when you're too overwhelmed to downright confess you're having trouble staying focussed.

He knows when you're too exhausted to unequivocally divulge your reluctance to anything social.

He just knows. But you don't; you don't know what you did to deserve this, to deserve him.

You still don't think you do, truth be told.

When you snap out of your daze, you both are no longer on campus grounds, walking along a lone street you don't recognise, lit by flickering lights threatening to give out any moment, but in a moment of vulnerability that surprises even yourself, you find you're not scared. Because Minho is with you, and as long as that stands, as long as you're lucky enough for that to stand, you know you're safe.

"Where are we going?" you echo your previous question.

But this time, he grins with a mischievous glint to his eye, looks you over and his pupils dilate, as if merely looking at you is enough to kickstart his heart into overdrive, "You'll see."

And see you do. Twenty minutes later, here you stand, bare feet pressed into the wet sand by the shore, both arms wrapped around his bicep, head resting on the trusty shoulder, humming along to the sound the breeze makes as it whisks past you.

"Are you cold?" he whispers, despite there being no one except the two of you on the beach at this time of day, taking your hands in his and swiping his thumb over your knuckles, assessing the answer for himself, lest you lie to not worry him. "Mm. No, you're not," he hums to himself, guiding your head back where it rested against the crook of his neck, only this time wrapping his own arms around, engulfing you in an embrace that speaks of warmth, of comfort, of love.

But for some reason you aren't sure of yourself, you resist, not taking his lead in going back to your previous stance, instead just staring into his eyes with something you don't know, but it seems he does, for his facial expression turns from surprised to lovestruck in the matter of a second.

He leans in, granting your silent request. Really, you don't know how he does it, almost like you don't have to say anything at all, for he hears you loud and clear without you having to utter a single word.

If what people say about having a soul person is true, he is yours.

And as your lips slot together, the waves behind you crash the loudest they have today, as if the nature is rejoicing, the elements exuberating, witnessing the collision of two beautiful souls, their stitching together into a single bracelet in the form of two bright pearls.

He is the black one, burning passion and quiet peace.

You are the white one, inherent perfectionist and loud existence.

You compliment each other, matching almost every piece of clothing in the wardrobe, neutralising when the other gets too much, burning along when the other gets dim.

"I love you."

You don't know what love means, what it stands for, what it entails.

But you're in love with the idea of loving him.

"I love you," you echo into his mouth, forgoing the "too" at the end because it makes it sounds like a passive confession, a favour returned, when it's easily the truest statement you have had to utter in all the time you've spent thinking about him, him, him.

"I love you, I love you," and alas, once you say it, you can't seem to stop, you want him to know, you want the whole world to know. You want to write it on the stars for the universe to read, that you are his, and he yours.

"I love you so goddamn much."

It hurts, it hurts so much, more than it did an hour ago when you caught sight of him standing outside your dorms. Now that your heart is aware of the gravity of what it feels for him, it just hurts.

When he pulls back, it's to hold your chin in the care of his palm, making you look at him, his eyes glittering with the beginnings of perspiration.

"I love you," he says simply.

To any onlooker, it might have seemed tame, insane maybe, for you two haven't been saying anything except the same three words in the last ten minutes.

But you know, only you know that they aren't the same words.

The first time he said it was to test the waters, to see if you would run away.

The first time you said was to check for yourself, did you love him?

The second and third time you said it was to tell your heart that yes, yes you did, you loved him more than you did anyone before, and it's a wonder how it took him saying it first for you to realise that.

The final time you said it, it was to him, to let him know that you did.

The final time he said it was to say yes, he knows, he knows that you do, that he knows the first two confessions were for your heart more than they were for him, that he's proud you've let down your walls enough to let him in, that he's grateful you've chosen him.

You suddenly find yourself descended on the shore, your back pressed into the cool sand that tickles your nape, Minho hovering over you with a look that can only be described with three words.

I love you.

"Be mine?" he says with wet kisses trailing up your jaw, stopping after every one to take in a deep inhale.

It's silly maybe, to say that when you're already dating but you know what he means, for you feel the same.

"I already am," you say as your body cants upwards, up, up, up, towards him, towards safety.

His hands trail down your body to where the waistband of your sweats sits, tracing along the diameter it transcends, looping his arm to the back to lift you up a tad more.

"Can I?"

You don't know what he's asking for, your motor and sensory neurons having stopped working, still chanting the same words over and over, 'iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou'.

So you nod, letting him undo the knot that rests on your lower stomach, letting him expose you in a manner most intimate, letting him have you for him, surrendering to the onslaught of pleasure.

When he sinks down on you, stretching you open for the very first time, it's with a groan you wish you could record, paste onto your eardrum, for every time a sound reaches the tympanic membrane, it would vibrate, carrying with it the symphony of the voice you want to hear every second of everyday.

As the initial euphoria of letting him in wears off, with him buried to the hilt, you look up at him, his soft brown hair falling down like curtains on either side of his temple, spilling over his nape that's suddenly too narrow to contain all the strands. And it's then that you remember saying you loved it whenever he was too busy and pushed back going to the salon, his long locks a guilty pleasure, your indulgence.

You reach your hand forward, entwining it with his silken strands, just holding, feeling, "Did you grow them out for me?"

"Yes," he whispers without a beat, as though waiting for you to take note of it without him having to say it first.

This time, the tears do trickle down your eyes, staring up at what you only appreciated from a distance.

"I can't believe t-this—" you choke out the last word when he begins moving, ever so slightly pulling back, pushing forward with a little more force, a little more ardour, the veins in his neck all the more prominent with the strain it takes to hold himself back from going faster.

You tug at his roots, a sharp hiss emanating from somewhere deep in his throat, the roll to his eyes evidence enough of how there's now another reason for him to keep his locks long enough to pull at.

He presses his body closer to yours, coming down on his elbows, kissing down the trail of your hot tears on even hotter skin underneath. It's his way of saying he's listening, an unspoken encouragement for you to continue, but also that it's okay if you don't.

But today is the day you've decided to bare it all to him, to not coware back, to let him know what only you have for what seems like forever.

"I s-saw you on the day of the orientation," you barely get out, coherence slipping past your fingertips much like the fine sand particles you're currently making love atop.

He stills, looking into your eyes, searching for something, "The very first day of college?"

You nod, stretch your lips into what you hope is a smile for your tears are cascading down with a current, sweeping anything and everything that dares come in the way of your route to him.

"That was like, five months ago," he seems incredulous, unbelieving that you were, in fact, the first to notice him and not the other way around.

Entangling your other hand into his hair, fingers brushing the one already slotted in there, you chuckle, "Yeah, it was like, five months ago. I had my eye on you for quite a while, pretty boy."

He doesn't buy the distraction you only half hoped he would, tenting his eyebrows into an upside down V, "And?" he prompts, yet again knowing that there's more to what you're saying.

"It's silly," you mumble, turning away from his gaze that puts your well being at risk.

A gentle finger to your chin, a swift sway of your face to pin you under the same gaze.

"Tell me." Simple as that, with no way out.

Maybe you don't want one.

"I-I saw you on the first day, a-and… I just, god you were so pretty, I thought— I wanted you already, but I thought you were a little too pretty, you know? And, and that eveyone would want you too, and you'd have so many options, ones better than me, and I'd have to get in line, and then—"

A firm press of lips, locked together in love and lust, in lieu of reassurance that you know is still coming.

"It was you for me, always," he says when he pulls back, "there's no line, no one else, just you. And me. Just us, hm?"

"Mm," you hum, losing yourself in the rhythm of his hips that have begun moving once again, small whimpers escaping right into his ear that is pressed against your cheek. Whether it's deliberate or not, you don't know.

He grasps onto one of your ankles, winding it around behind him, the space thus created allowing him to push in all the deeper.

"Oh god, Minho—"

His pace picks up when you pull his hair enough to cause a faint sting on his scalp, in addition to being a direct result of the way his name keeps overflowing past your lips.

You gasp, fighting for air, clutching onto his shoulders, afraid he'd slip away if you let go, "Everyone can see."

It's a little too late for that now.

"Let them. Let them see," quickening of thrusts, desperation rearing its head in the most sinful of ways.

"Let me show them how much I love you."

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