#my brain is buzzing with implications

[howdomaddie]

thinking about roxas's chosen keyblades being the ones that represent sora's relationships with both kairi and riku. considering the implication of roxas being his own person but simultaneously the living proof of sora's connection to the two people most important to him. chewing on it, even.

[blistering-typhoons]

want to write so badly :')))

[mrbeeboi]

That moment when fanart inspiration hits you like a truck while you’re supposed to be sleeping and you have work tomorrow

[tamajam]

Same anon! And he'd definitely be Aphrodite given his relationship habits!! Possibly Hephaestus tho

i actually love that 👁️👁️ i could totally see aphrodite for the relationship habits actually. like the way he changes himself every time he dates someone new and aphrodite kids can inherit changing their appearances like that is sooooo accurate. the internalized insecurity is so real

goshh this ask about to make me make a percy jackson au smh anon 😌🫶

[jjjjisun]

Pre-Game Ritual (Final)

Minju X Male Reader | 10304 words

TW: Incest

—

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

—

Buy me a Ko-Fi.

Book commissions here.

—

[Minju... I can't stop thinking about you]

Minju's phone buzzed as she pushed her duffel off her shoulder and the door to her dorm room closed behind her. Looking at her phone, the smile returned to her face and Minju fell back onto the couch in the middle of her and Deborah's room. The old sofa her parents had given her when she moved in was the one that she and her brother used to battle on in the basement when they were younger. There were pulls all over it and one of the cushions definitely had a big tear in the underside where Y/N had once thrown it at her and hit the cabinet instead.

This was crazy. Minju could barely think what to write back as she quivered in pure excitement at what had finally happened with her and her big brother. He was apparently the man of everybody's dreams, or so all her friends said, but only she had gotten to do what they all wanted to, brother or not.

For a few moments between halftime and now, Minju had wondered if her brother was going to treat what had happened as anything more than the relationship that Y/N had with that awful ex, Eunju. But upon receiving his text, and even before that when she saw him staring as he was ushered off the field after the game, Minju knew everything was going to be okay.

-I could barely talk to anybody after we... it was like you made my brain melt!- Minju finally responded.

She had truly avoided people as much as she could after what had happened in the locker room. Perhaps her brother could go out and win a football game after that, but Minju felt completely overcome by the experience.

-You were so amazing out there Oppa. Everybody is talking about it.-

Y/N smiled at his little sister's compliment, almost seeing the pride on her face like she'd worn when he saw her after he scored the first touchdown in the second half.

[I wonder why that is... did you tell them about how you were the MVP?]

-The MVP huh? Don't I get some kind of reward for that?-

[Anything you want sis]

-Hmm... anything?-

[You name it]

Y/N wondered if he was being too forward, and the pause after he texted her made him feel a bit nervous. They were still in uncharted territory and the last thing he wanted to do was overstep with his little sister, no matter how badly he wanted to continue what they'd started.

[What are you doing right now] He asked, trying to continue the conversation.

-Laying on Mom and Dad's old couch. I just got home, what about you?-

[Still in the locker room. All of the guys are finishing up showers and I think coach wants to talk to us about the game]

-SO MANY NAKED DUDES, SO MUCH TESTOSTERONE.- Minju teased, always giving him a hard time about the easiest stereotypes.

[I think you know where I would be if I didn't have to be here]

Again, Minju waited to send something back. She knew he was hoping for her to play into his implications but it felt good to string him along. 'Make him work for it,' Minju repeated in her head.

[Are your girlfriends all going out tonight?] Y/N asked

-They said they were, but I'm thinking of staying in-

Y/N felt like begging to come over. He was near shouting into his phone.

-I'm looking at that spot on the couch that mom had to patch when you burned it with a firecracker right now. You're still a huge pyro aren't you?-

[Duh.] Y/N responded. Some of the guys were beginning to get clothes on and wander over toward the space where they usually gathered. He didn't want to stop texting his little sis, but the coach had a strict no-phones policy for this kind of thing.

-I love having this couch in my dorm, so many memories, so much stupid stuff we did in that basement-

God did Y/N love her. She was right, they had made so many memories together in that basement. Growing up, they'd fought and played together for hours on end down there, left alone to their own devices and to keep each other company. Somewhere along the line, he'd grown much bigger, and she much prettier and all the while he'd built up a love for her that meant he'd do anything to protect and take care of her.

And now Y/N was imagining his little sister laying out, wearing the tank-top she usually did after games and a pair of team gym shorts she always managed to roll a few times at the waist. Her lithe little frame would be stretching out and her smooth feet, with those delicate toes working their way under the arm-pad at the end. She wasn't exactly the same little sister who he'd held down on the couch until she shouted uncle. Maybe she was, he just wanted to be on top of her for an entirely different reason.

His phone buzzing in his hand brought Y/N back to the present.

-I think I know what I want as my prize for being the MVP.-

[What's that?] Y/N texted as his coach called them over to huddle up.

-I want you to come over so we can play together on the couch tonight...-

He was looking down at his phone and his heart was beating faster and faster as he approached the gathering team.

-Only I'm gonna be naked and mom and dad won't come down to check on us.-

-

Words were said, players were congratulated for spectacular play, the team huddled and broke apart and all the while Y/N was thinking of Minju. He couldn't help it; the thought of her lying on that old couch without a thing on, and waiting for him to come over made him mad with excitement.[U2] She was his baby sister, his own adorable college girl, and an unbelievably hot one at that. At a time when every girl at school would claw each other's eyes out to get with him, Y/N wanted nothing more than to rush off and meet his beautiful, eighteen-year-old sister in her dorm as promised.

She wasn't exactly waiting for him. In the time after she'd texted her brother what she wanted, Minju had laid on the couch, enamored, for a few minutes. But not for long, because suddenly she was feeling giddy and nervous like a girl who had finally gotten the attention of a boy in her grade. She got in the shower and shaved her legs, washed every inch of her body and then stared in the mirror primping and preening for what seemed like forever.

Minju felt particularly relieved that the hazing of the day before had included a spa trip and wax because she could feel how smooth her pussy was as she rubbed lotion onto her skin from head to toe. After texting her roommate to ask if she could sleep somewhere else that night and tidying her room, Minju wore only a towel and waited patiently for her brother to arrive.

Doing his best to be inconspicuous, Y/N put the hood of his sweatshirt up and took the stairs rather than the elevator to his sister's floor. He checked the hallway and had to wait for two girls to walk into their rooms before rushing over and turning the handle to his little sister's room. He closed the door behind him and backed up against it, letting out a deep breath he'd been holding.

The sound of the door opening made Minju's heart jump. She knew he was coming, knew what they intended to do: something they had technically already done it earlier that day. But this time felt different.

They hadn't yet met on any day other than a Friday before the game. They had only touched each other on the premise that it was in some way a service to the football team. Before, it was like they had an excuse, but as Minju stood up and watched her brother turn the lock on the door behind him, she knew that he was there for her and only her.

Y/N watched his little sister stand up from the couch with a towel wrapped around her. She was adorable. Petite, youthful and so nervous - he could see it on her as she stood there shaking. He almost felt bad as he saw the body language that seeming to be praying he would approve of her. That was, until Y/N watched his little sister tug at the towel and drop it around her feet.

It felt like the first time he'd seen her naked... wait, was it? His head was all jumbled up as she stood there next to the old green couch and turned a little bit, shrugging her shoulders sheepishly and causing her breasts to perk up for his view.

"Come here little sis," Y/N instructed her

She sidled over to him and Y/N immediately put his hands on her shoulders. The room was cold, and little goose-bumps were showing up on her skin, but his hands felt instantly warm.

"You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen." Y/N assured her.

She smiled, nuzzling her head against his arm. Feeling some of the confidence of earlier that day returning to her.

"What if some other boy had decided to stop by before I could get here, huh?"

"Well I probably wouldn't have gotten naked for him, for one." Minju quipped, grinning.

"PROBABLY?" Y/N retorted.

"I definitely wouldn't have let him fuck me if that's what you're asking?" Minju implied. Both of them were quiet as they absorbed what she said.

Feeling mischievous enough, Minju moved her hand to the long bulge in her brother's sweatpants.

"Is that what you're here to do big brother?" she teased. Looking down in wonder at the path her hand was tracing along Y/N's sizable erection.

He couldn't resist any longer, Y/N had to get his hands on her, his lips, everything. With a hand around his little sister's waist and one at her neck, he pulled her toward him and joined their lips. At first it was pure need, lust and magnetism that drew them together, but as their lips slowly parted, Minju's tongue found her brothers in a way that inspired them to take their time.

Minju felt her sibling's hand move its way from her hip to her stomach, and then from her stomach to her ribcage. Finally, he reached her breast and he tested it's weight under his thumb and forefinger before grasping the entire thing.

"Uhhhhh..." Minju mewwed into her brother's mouth as he touched her, loving the sensation of letting him be in control. His desire was obvious, but his touch was gentle. Slowly he felt her up and she let them take awkward little steps backward toward the couch while still kissing.

"Oppa," she broke away as her backside touched the couch, "I've wanted this for so long," she whispered with their foreheads touching and his eyes watching her breasts mound together as he massaged them.

"Not like I said... not just to help you with your games," she continued.

Y/N lifted her up, so easily it scared her, and set her naked bottom on the back of the old sofa. When she looked up, his eyes were directly in line with hers. They could hear girls talking in the hall, ambling to and from the bathroom and getting ready to go out. In the room, it was only them, and nobody knew that beyond her door, a little sister now sat completely naked and hoping that her big brother would soon make love to her.

Y/N put his finger under her chin the way he had so many times before.

"Minju," he soothed her, "I know you have, because I have wanted you for longer than I can remember."

"Really?" She asked, with big puppy-dog eyes gazing up at him. "You're not just saying that?"

"Duh," he said, making her crack a smile, "and you're not just my little sister anymore, you're this beautiful girl who knows what she wants and knows how to drive me crazy and..."

Minju stopped him with a hungry kiss, grabbing his neck and pulling on it so he'd let her at him. He reveled in her haste, reminding him of how she'd actually been like that since she was little, whether he'd just complimented her for growing up or not. Except now, with her naked little body in front of him, he knew she had.

Her breasts, young but full, were very different after eighteen years. Her hips were more womanly, wider and tapered to from her toned abdomen. And those legs she was starting to wrap around him to pull him closer... Y/N knew they had not always been so alluring.

"I do know what I want," she said between kisses.

Without explaining, she reached for the bottom of her brother's sweatshirt and pulled it up before he could utter another word, his undershirt with it. She revealed his upper body and felt a quiver in between her legs as each inch of his abs, his chest muscles and his staunch shoulders all came into view.

Minju had only had sex the once, and still she knew that the extreme desire she felt as she looked at him was for him to use on her... in her..., what she had yet to reveal from his jeans.

"Slow down..." Y/N chuckled as he felt her hands move quickly to his belt. Her breath was so hasty that she could hardly keep kissing him. She managed to push his jeans down and leave her big brother standing in his boxer briefs before he made a move.

Her hand had found his cock almost immediately, attempting to wrap around it through his underwear. It felt so good that Y/N nearly allowed her to do what she must and not stop her, but he'd seen what he wanted next when he had first lifted Minju up onto the couch.

With her beautiful legs spread, she couldn't hide the bare, pink pussy that he hadn't quite gotten to admire yet. It was pursed shut by her soft, little mound but even that couldn't hide that Minju was getting wetter by the second. A light sheen had caught her brother's eye when he stepped back to take off his pants and he knew he had to kiss her there.

Only Y/N had ever touched her, and it had happened so unexpectedly in the hotel room at the away game; so when she saw in her brother's eyes what he intended to do, Minju once again felt her heart flutter; she was the center of his attention.

First, he kissed gently around her inner thighs. Even that elicited a moan from Y/N's little sis and her bare hips writhed, inviting him closer. He took his time, kissing and licking closer and closer to her sweet opening. Minju was positively desperate for him to put his lips directly against her when, she finally felt it.

Y/N dragged his tongue from the little drip of her fluids at the base of her opening all the way up to the tiny peak of her clit. The excruciating care he took, the gentle pressure of his tongue, It was like nothing she had ever felt before, and Y/N didn't stop there.

Slowly and deliberately, Y/N began sucking at her tiny bud to the tune of Minju's repeated gasps.

"Oh fuck Oppa, ohmygod..." she called to him, her diaphragm expanding and contracting involuntarily, "keep doing that."

Y/N smiled right against the cooing brunette's quim as he felt her fingers grabbing at his hair greedily while he stimulated her with his tongue. The sounds of his little sister's cries were so soothing after a whole day of hits and crowds and competition on the field. He'd been thinking of her every free moment, seen her on the sidelines, and imagined all of the things he wanted to do to her. Now that he had her, Y/N didn't care that she was being loud. The door was locked and Y/N didn't intend to stop making Minju moan for him.

In no time flat, Minju knew he was going to make her cum. And for some reason, even though what he was doing was incredible, Minju wanted to feel an orgasm with her brother inside her.

"Oppa, wait," she begged him. Y/N didn't want to obey, to stop her from having the orgasm she seemed headed for. "Please...uhhh... I want to cum with you fucking me."

She urged him up with her fingers behind his head. Even though Y/N didn't want to stop kissing and licking her, the thought of sliding his cock into Minju's wonderfully tight pussy was too much to ignore. At the game, he had hardly the time to realize what they were doing, or how willing and desirable the eighteen-year-old brunette was to him. Now she was all his for the taking, naked and waiting for his next move on the back of their parents couch. He could really take his time and think about what they were doing.

"I love you so much Oppa," she told him as he came up to eye level. She never broke contact with him as he told her the same, but he felt her hands pull his hard cock out of his boxers and shove his waistband down and out of the way.

Her hand could hardly wrap him. Minju couldn't believe that she had managed to fit most of his big penis inside her earlier that day but it didn't worry her; she wanted to savor it this time, slowly, more than ever.

"Ohmygosh Oppa you're big," she told him,

Y/N returned his hands to her perfect breasts and then pawed her body while she stroked him a few times. A drop of fluid lingered at his tip already; Minju smeared it against him with her thumb.

"I've been dreaming of this forever Minju'," he said, getting his little brunette's attention and gazing deep into her big green eyes. "Tell me what you want sis," he encouraged her.

"Mnnhhh..." she called out, bringing him close enough to touch only the very tip to her sensitive clit. She loved the thought of rubbing his pre-cum right against her and feeling her own fluids coat the head of her brother's cock.

"I want to feel your big...mnnhhh..." Y/N urged his hips forward so the underside of his tip pressured her clit, "hard...ohhfuck..." he withdrew and lingered unmoving, "...cock in my pussy Oppa," she dared him, "Fuck me however you want me big brother."

Without another word, Y/N felt his cock line up perfectly to do what she asked. Try as they might to withhold, Minju's taut lips gave way and her brother slowly pushed inside.

It felt considerably better than before, but Minju's pussy was so wet that her brother's cock was able to slide in half-way before she could protest. Y/N held his little sister fast as she tried to adjust to being impaled on his big rod.

Minju and her brother looked down together at where he was inside her. Her recently virgin lips, bare and glistening, were split wide with Y/N's cock halfway in. The room was bright, not like that tiny office; they could see and feel what they were doing without any hesitation or doubt.

It didn't worry Minju one bit. An hour before she had asked her brother for this, for him to 'play with her' on the very couch she could now feel beneath her, in her own dorm room with so many nosy girls moving about all around them. Yet, all she wanted was for her big brother to fill her as much as he could.

When their eyes met again with clarity, it was Y/N's turn to groan. His little sister was using her heels around him to pull his hips closer and slide his cock deeper inside.

"Ouuuuphhh..." Y/N breathed out. He saw his little sister smirk with mischievous pride as they came together at the hips. Somehow, impossible as it seemed, Y/N was buried all the way into Minju's young tunnel.

Joined at the hips, Minju's soft breasts pressed against her brother's chest; she could feel his powerful heart beating. Her head nuzzled against him and his breath tickled her ear.

"You can fuck me now," she whispered, "I'm ready."

Minju enjoyed a few more seconds of the embrace before she felt her big brother move. His cock slowly slid out of her, almost all the way before he urged it back in. She was so wet, Y/N realized, a wonderful assurance of how badly his little sister wanted him. The slick sound of his penis sliding against her inner walls reached their ears and it was wonderful.

Their hips met for the second time, then the third. Minju held onto her brother's neck and leaned back, pushing her chest out proudly as Y/N thrust again.

Her whole body was displayed before his hungry eyes; causing his hips to collide with hers less and less gently. Each time, the space just below her tiny abdomen bulged just a hint, showing the siblings just how deep Y/N's head was inside his whimpering sister's pussy.

'It's okay," she told him, "you can fuck me harder."

Y/N loved her for that; a few thrusts more and the eighteen-year-olds breasts were bouncing mesmerizingly before his eyes. Minju found herself unable to contain herself from crying out in pleasure. She'd forgotten how close she was from her brother's mouth, but she remembered now.

"OhhhOppa," she gasped as he drove into her again, "mmmnhhh...you feel so good in me."

Her big brother could hear in her voice and the adorable sounds coming out of her mouth that Minju was once again near climax as she had been before. He adjusted the angle of his thrusts just a bit; Minju shuddered and dug her nails into his shoulder.

"Ughhhh.. ohhhGOD..." she panted,

Y/N grasped his little sister's soft butt, sinking his fingers into each cheek and kept fucking her. Each time he felt her young pussy fully enveloping him, each beautiful moan and pant, he was reminded of how lucky he was to be inside his beautiful baby sister.

When Minju thought she could take no more, when her climax was approaching and she thought she might turn inside-out with pressure and sensation, her hands fought to stop her brother from impaling her over the edge.

But he wouldn't stop; he just kept driving into her and Minju was powerless to stop the orgasm from coming.

He kept fucking her, even as Minju cried out,

"OuuwhhHHHhhaaa..."

Her legs locked around him, still trying to stop him from making the climax any more intense, but Y/N wanted the opposite. Seeing his little sister cum with such uncontrollable passion was something he hoped to never forget.

She gasped for air, and when Minju suddenly grabbed for his wrists and locked her arms straight to push herself up and off of him as much as she could, Y/N decided to give her a break.

She shook, her whole body shook. Her skin crawled with pins and needles and her entire pussy convulsed around the more than half her brother's cock still tucked inside her.

Y/N was close to laughing he was so happy to see Minju cum like that, and to sense how helpless she must have felt as the orgasm wracked her body. Around his cock, little droplets of Minju's wetness were peeking out, a few of them onto that beloved couch they'd known for so long.

It nearly killed her, but Minju had to go limp and fall into her brother's arms so she slid what she had managed to retreat from of her brother's shaft back inside and let him hold her up.

Y/N listened to her deep breaths and felt her back heave as she tried to regain her wits.

"You jerk!" she breathed into his ear.

"What? What did I do?" Y/N asked, leaning back to try and look into her eyes.

"You made me cum so hard!" She whined, "I couldn't even control my body and you kept fucking me..."

Minju knew she was being silly, and so did Y/N. He simply held her and let her catch her breath, though his cock, still buried in Minju's tiny pussy, hadn't softened a bit.

When Y/N couldn't take it anymore, and Minju seemed to be recuperated from her earlier near-loss of consciousness, he withdrew from his little sister a few inches and urged back in to see how she would react.

She didn't protest, so Y/N made a different move. Minju yelped as she felt her brother's arms around her back and then suddenly she was being lifted up from the couch.

"Where are you..." Minju started, shivering and glancing behind her when she felt her back come into contact with the cold surface of the door.

Looking back at him, she could see the excited look in his brother's eyes. He'd never felt so free and uninhibited with a girl before, and the way his little sister grinned as he pinned her against her dorm-room door assured him that she was perfectly content.

Once again, Y/N's hips began to move, and before long so did Minju's. She was starting to get the hang of it, starting to understand how her brother's body worked and what the best way was to help them fuck like long-time lovers.

The way her body moved, how her stomach muscles tensed against him and her butt wiggled in his hands as he held her up was irresistible to Y/N. She was the sexiest girl he'd ever seen and now she was proving herself the same as a partner.

The door jiggered a few times as he fucked her against it, and the surface slid against Minju's back each time her brother thrust up into her.

"I love you," he panted in her ear, pounding her again, "uhhhh...I am so fucking crazy about you,"

Minju grabbed his head and pulled it toward her for a kiss. Their tongues attacked clumsily before she pulled apart to tell him she loved him too.

He manhandled her and fucked her so easily against the door that Minju was positively smitten and impressed. She reached up to grab the top frame of the door. She could feel her tits jiggling as they hung higher now and her brother continued his thrusts, unrelenting. She knew that sex could feel good, but she didn't know it could be so fun.

Minju felt playful, diving in and nibbling on her brother's ear. She wrapped her hands around his shoulders and squeezed tight. Her nipples grazed her brother's chest and she shuddered at the added sensation.

Minju was giggling and panting and moaning, totally letting go of her reservations and letting her body tell her how to react. Outside the door, some girls were laughing and standing nearby to remark on the noises coming from Minju's and Deborah's shaking door. If only they knew who was fucking her senseless on the other side; if only they knew that her own brother was shoving his big cock inside her again and again... what would they say then?

Hearing it too, Y/N pulled away from the door. Minju seized the opportunity to gyrate her hips and fuck her brother back a little. He stood still, letting her go as wild as she liked. She held on while he supported her above the waist and she worked her little hips as fast and hard as she could. It felt incredible to them both.

When he started to feel like she might be getting him close, Y/N spoke softly into his sister's ear.

" I'm close sis, uhhhfuck, I can't take you moving your hips like that much longer."

"Oh yeah?" Minju teased, "like this you mean?"

With an intent look on her face, biting her bottom lip and leaning back like a gymnast, Minju rotated her hips around on her brother's big cock and felt his tip prodding her as deep as he'd ever been.

"Ohgod... yes," Y/N answered, firmly grasping her hips to keep her from continuing her dangerous movement.

"We shouldn't Minju!" he admonished her.

"Why not?" she whined, "you already did earlier today... and it felt so good!"

She wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him the most innocent, pleading face she could manage.

"Don't you want to cum inside me again Oppa?" she beckoned, pecking his lips to be even cuter.

"Didn't you like squirting all your sticky cum in me, in your little sister's pussy?"

Y/N was speechless. How could he tell her no? The way she was sticking out her bottom lip... the way her big green eyes were begging him the same way they did if she wanted something when they were little... It was so different now; his little sister was now his lover, with her beautiful body wrapped around him like a monkey. He wanted everything about her, every inch of her, and he'd already done it before...

Minju knew she had won as her brother carried her over to that shag carpet she'd felt so silly buying with her mom when they moved her into her dorm. Now it didn't feel quite so silly; it felt soft on her naked back when her brother set her down.

"You didn't know I was on the pill huh?" Minju asked naughtily as her brother positioned himself on top of her, "even when you came all over my pussy that night in the hotel?"

"I guess not," Y/N admitted, feeling guilty.

"It's okay, that was really hot...unhhh..." she let him off, cooing when Y/N slid into her as he hovered above her. "...I couldn't stop thinking about it all week."

"I wanna feel it again Oppa, go ahead," she asked, pulling needily at his hips with her feet,

"Fuck your naughty little sister and then fill me up with your cum,"

'Holy shit,' Y/N thought. It was so unexpected, Y/N had apparently opened Minju's eyes to being just as much a troublemaker as always, except now it included having sex with her big brother.

Immediately Y/N commenced sliding in and out of her. She was still dripping wet, her eighteen-year-old pussy had been waiting for this kind of attention from him for far too long.

Minju felt more full than she had ever before. Y/N was being less and less gentle, and Minju loved it. Over and over he shoved into her; she could feel his tip prodding her depths. Looking down, she wondered how it could possibly fit inside her.

But it did, countless times it did. When Minju looked up she could see the concentration on her brother's face and a look as if he was holding back. Her poor brother, all this and he was still too good to her to cum inside her when she asked.

"OhgodOppa..." she breathed, "I want it so bad."

"Fuck Minju', I'm so close," he told her. Minju knew it, and after being impaled so many times on her big brother's cock, feeling his weight as he buried inside her tunnel, she was too.

"Uhhhhhh..." she returned, "Cum inside me...unghhhh...cum in your little sister's pussy."

His motions became erratic, and suddenly Minju knew what was happening. Her brother's hips stopped their onslaught, pressed against her with his cock buried as far as it could be. As she watched his whole body, his big arms, rippling abs and even his neck tense-up she felt a gush of heat deep inside her.

From his head, Y/N shot forbidden semen deep into his little sister.

Holding the little teenager tight, he throbbed again, coating her cervix...

Again, he splashed her insides with sperm.

As soon as she felt it, there was an electric reaction in Minju's body. She hadn't expected it, thinking maybe her brother had worn her out before, but when the reality of her womb being flooded with Y/N's cum hit her, her little body went into a fit of sensation.

Minju gasped along with her brother. Again a wave of stimulation flowed from the places inside her being painted with her brother's cum to the synapses in her brain before firing out to the tips of her fingers and toes.

"Ohhhh Oppa," she called, "I'm cummmingggg,"

Blackness.

The room was perfectly bright, but Y/N and Minju could only feel each other as they lay on the rug being overcome by their mutual climaxes.

It felt like it would never end, or maybe Y/N didn't want it to. Every time he pumped another rope of semen into his teenage sister's pussy, she seemed to quake and pant again. He wanted to watch her like that as long as possible.

Minju's face was flushed, her eyelids fluttering with her head rolled back. Her chest heaved against her brother as he tried not to put too much weight on her. He felt weak, and he struggled to focus on anything but the squeezing sensation of little Minju's convulsing tunnel. Each time she breathed, her young quim ushered one more defiant rope of white from her big brother's cock.

Even when he had no more to release inside her, Minju's orgasm didn't seem to want to end. He could only watch her, wince when her tunnel massaged him again, and marvel at how beautiful she looked with the mane of hair about her head and the glisten of sweat on her cheeks.

She was something out of a dream: too adorable, too petite, too alluring to really be his little sister... his little sister who he remained buried inside on that dorm room floor. She finally spoke to him,

"I love you," she said, almost too quietly for him to hear.

Y/N leaned down and kissed her collarbone, then her neck, her cheek and finally a peck on her lips.

"Love you too," he promised her back.

Minju finally opened her eyes. Seeing her brother above her brought a smile to her face. She felt wonderful... warm and protected under his gaze. He was still hard inside her and she could feel all that cum he'd squirted into her trying to work its way out, though it would have a hard time finding a way with how well her brother's penis filled her tiny tunnel.

Her brother: the now famous... well, somewhat famous quarterback that every girl would be dying to get their hands on. A guy who could have been out scooping up girls on that Saturday night. Instead he'd snuck into HER dorm room, spent the night with ONLY her, and from the way he was looking at her now she didn't believe he had any intention of seeking another.

"You made me cum TWICE...AGAIN!" Minju yelled, almost sounding like she was scolding him. Her brother laughed and then his face showed of pride. He'd never had sex like that with any past girlfriends.

"I know, I guess I just liked seeing you so much the first time."

Minju was running his fingers over his arms as they held him off the floor around her. She giggled when she saw Y/N staring at her breasts like he usually did.

"No," Minju corrected him, "it happened when I felt you cumming in me! It was like one minute I wasn't and then all of the sudden it was so warm and...fuuuuck!"

Y/N couldn't help himself, hearing his baby sister talk about the feeling of him cumming in her pussy, he simply had to shove a little harder against her. They were already touching at the hips but she could feel him push in just a bit more.

"Y/N!" She yelled, slapping her hand against his shoulder, "dooooonn't, I need a little time!"

She smacked him again when she saw him smile like he knew he wasn't supposed to have done that.

"Did you like cumming in me?" she purred.

"Um... duh," he retorted, making Minju roll her eyes.

"I guess that was obvious, you came so much! I can feel it like...everywhere."

It made both Minju and her brother look downward again. He was still lodged inside her and the knowledge was heartwarming to them. Y/N decided to finally withdraw, and though it caused his little sister to growl in protest, he slowly slid his cock out inch by inch; he'd put it back later.

The naughty brunette may have loved seeing her brother's cock inside her, but she had no idea how sexy it would make her feel to see what followed. Right behind Y/N's tip peeked a bead of white cum, her brother's cum, from between her tiny lips. Little by little it snuck out while they both watched. Minju wiggled her thighs together and it made even more sperm flow out.

Y/N marveled at his little sister's incredulous, open-mouthed stare. She looked like the little sister he remembered again, fawning over some present she hadn't expected to receive. It made him unspeakably happy to cause that feeling in her again.

Minju lay there with her brother's spunk working its way out, at least the amount of it that wasn't still spread over every little bit of the eighteen-year old's insides that there was to coat. When she looked at her brother again, she could see that the way she felt about it was mutual. They knew exactly what they had done, the evidence was plain enough: thick and white on Minju's thigh. They knew that they had done something forbidden that would change their relationship forever: the tangible passion between them revealed that. But most importantly, Minju and Y/N knew it was exactly what they wanted, like maybe they'd always been meant to end up as they were now.

"Will you stay with me tonight?" Minju asked him sweetly.

"Ahhh, I don't know," Y/N said, raising his arms over his head and stretching, "I was thinking I might go out with the guys...:"

Minju scoffed, hurt.

Y/N let his teasing sink in, shrugging and letting her believe he might be serious. Finally he reached over and pulled Minju so she rolled partially atop him, flopping there like she had no intention of showing him any affection.

"Of course I'm staying with you Minju'," Y/N assured her. "You didn't really think I'd leave did you?"

"Well I don't know!" She said in a kind of sing-songy voice. "You're some kind of big-deal quarterback now, maybe you didn't want to be stuck in all night with your little sister or something."

"You're a little more than that to me now, don't you think?" Y/N asked. Minju was silent for a few seconds before looking up at him innocently.

"Just a little more?" She asked.

"A lot more," he corrected.

Minju and her brother lay there, thinking hard about what was happening between them and wondering longingly what might be next. Both of them were exhausted, so they slowly drifted off to sleep on that ridiculous shag carpet in Minju's dorm room.

It was hours later when Y/N awoke to find his sister spooned in front of him, clutching his arms and trying to wrap herself as much as possible within his embrace.

All of the realities came back to him at once. He was still in his little sister's room, she was still completely naked in his arms and little by little his erection was making its way between her legs until it pushed its way against the teenager's soft pussy.

"Mnnnnhhh..." Minju cooed sleepily, "what time is it."

It was still dark outside, it might not have even been past midnight. Most girls would be out of the dorms by then if they weren't staying in, so there wasn't a sound beyond Minju's waking breaths.

Feeling her against him, Y/N was helpless to prevent pressuring Minju's innocent mound. She hadn't done anything, but he knew she would feel the tip of his cock in that tantalizing gap between her thighs.

Minju was still sensitive from before, but she wanted him all the same. The feeling of her brother's cock hardening between her legs was so intimate that she sensed her whole body reacting. Without a word, Minju began rotating her hips to provide gentle touches of her inner thighs against the head of her big brother's unspoken contact.

'The way she moved her hips...ohhhman!' Y/N thought. Where did she get that? Did she know that it was the sexiest thing he could imagine? Somewhere along the line, his little sister whom he used to see as this awkward, all knees-and-elbows troublemaker, became irresistibly complicit in their forbidden act of incest. How could he have missed the way her teenage body had filled out, how her face had taken on model-esque features, and as he held Minju's squirming backside against him, how her most unspoken assets were now overpoweringly alluring.

When neither of them could stand it anymore, Minju reached down and gave her brother's desire the proper direction. Both siblings exhaled simultaneously, a sigh of relief at the visceral reminder of their unlocked passion for each other.

But the calm didn't last long, because yet another new position for the inexperienced brunette soon brought cries of ecstasy to each thud of Y/N's pelvis against her. Minju's hands grabbed the carpet, they reached back for her brother's hair, anything they could do to ground her as she approached another earth-shattering orgasm.

Y/N may have prided himself on stamina in the past, but he was no match for the panting, crying and writhing of his little sister. For the third time in however many hours, as she quivered and screamed her way through another climax, Y/N held his sister tight, buried deep in her sweet pussy and flooded her with cum yet again.

Minju cooed praises at her brother as she caught her breath, but he was pretty sure she fell asleep, exhausted, before he could even soften and slip out of her. She might have liked to look once more at the warm stream of her brother's spunk that found its way between her taut lips, but apparently she was content enough to know it was there as she drifted off without him. It was fine with Y/N, though; in the time it took for him to fade back to sleep, he got to hold onto Minju, caress her and marvel at the evolution of his unadulterated love for her.

When light began to peek through the old curtains of the dorm room and chanced across the carpet and Minju's pretty, slumbering face, it woke her from one of the most wonderful night's sleep she could ever remember. How many hours had it been?

Minju turned her head and smiled upon seeing her brother fast asleep with heavy arm over her. God was she crazy about him. Sometime in the future, she and her brother might have to answer some tough questions together, but now it just felt...right.

"Hey big brother," she called, wiggling against him.

Nothing. The big lug, he could sleep through anything. She gave him another jolt.

"Wake up, you big jerk."

Y/N smiled, infinitely happy that the first thing he heard when he woke up was his little sister's voice, and the first thing he felt was her naked body still pressed against him. Of course the second thing he felt was himself hardening.

So did Minju, but for once, reason got the better of her. If light was coming through the window, it was the morning. Depending on how early it was, girls would be stirring in the dorm rooms nearby. It wasn't uncommon to hear cries of passion coming from this room or that, but anyone who heard her last night would probably be curious who had been inside fucking Minju so thoroughly. Y/N had to get out before they were discovered.

She felt her brother's hand on her hip and rolled back toward him. He wanted her, again. It brought the same feeling within Minju to know his desire for her, but she couldn't appease him this time.

"We can't Oppa," she pled, "I know you want to but we can't."

Y/N was confused, he couldn't just NOT react to feeling the eighteen-year-old's toned butt against him or the breast his hand was draped across with her pink nipple gracing his palm. He pulled on her hip again.

"Oppa!" she said, rolling away from him and getting to her feet. Seeing her brother stare at her in admiration made her grin, but it was only for a second because she squinted her eyes at him and continued.

"It's the morning Oppa, you gotta sneak out!"

He hated it, but knew she was right. After all the noise Minju was making last night, he definitely couldn't be seen in the room with her by any of the girls who lived around her. Still he didn't want to give up the access to the naked little brunette standing over him. Minju helped him to his feet and then tossed his clothes at him while Y/N dressed.

She'd put on a silky robe when Y/N looked up from tying his shoes. He loathed seeing her body hidden from his eyes.

"So, things are going to be...like...different now, aren't they?" Minju asked hesitantly, standing a few feet in front of him.

"Different how?" Y/N replied, reaching out and pulling her close with hands around her waist. Y/N continued before Minju could worry any further.

"Different like: I've never felt about anyone the way I do about you?"

Minju's eyes brightened as he went on.

"Different like: I can't imagine that better sex with a more beautiful girl even exists?"

Minju blushed at that.

"Or different like: I know who the first person I call is going to be after practice today, hoping she'll be done with her homework so we can hang out?"

Y/N had gotten to his feet and was looking down into his little sister's eyes when she jumped up and wrapped her legs around him. She kissed him wildly, unable to contain her emotions and joy at knowing everything was going to get better and better with her brother.

Minju didn't even notice that he had walked her across the room until she felt the wall near the door against her back. Reminding her of how he had pinned her and fucked her intently against the door the night before, Minju considered throwing caution to the wind and asking him to stay.

But after a few moments, Y/N let her down to the ground. She stayed on her tiptoes, trying not to lose contact with his lips while he pulled away.

"Wanna go on a date tonight or something?" He asked the disappointed teenager.

Minju looked up at him and shook her head excitedly. Once he got her reply, Y/N turned towards the door and opened it to peek out. The coast looked clear.

Before he could swing the door open, Minju grabbed his hand and pulled it toward her. "Wait, Oppa," she said.

He turned back towards her and admired her gorgeous face for one more time that day. Y/N wanted to remember that cute, recently woken smile she wore during practice that day.

"I love you so much," she told him, once again.

Y/N leaned in for one more kiss on her cute little lips.

"I love you too Minju'," he responded sincerely.

Y/N paused a moment, thinking better of leaving without one more thing. He reached down and uncinched the ribbon around his sister's waist and swiftly reached up to push her robe right off her shoulders.

"There," he said, "that's better."

The image of the nude little eighteen-year-old, his own baby sister, and the wide-eyed, open-mouthed look of astonishment at his shameless act would stick with him for the rest of the day until she was back in his arms again.

Y/N made sure he snuck out of her dorm unseen. He rolled his eyes, overwhelmed knowing that his newfound popularity was going to make visits to Minju's dorm-room almost impossible after last night. Still, all the way home, all the way to practice, every free moment he got Y/N was thinking of Minju. Likewise, Minju spent the better part of her day dreaming of him.

Together, their thoughts were free from doubt or worry, instead full of hope and excitement for what would come next. There was going to be a lot to figure out between them, thought Y/N as he reached for his phone after practice, but he'd do anything to make it work. As Minju's heartbeat danced upon seeing brother's call, she answered knowing that somehow her life was headed in a wonderful new direction.

"Hey you!" she said first.

"Hey, sis, what have you been thinking about today?"

[gabseyoo]

A WEDDING NIGHT — SAKUSA KIYOOMI (2)

content: female reader, pro volleyball player!kiyoomi, brother’s best friend!kiyoomi, angst. word count: 2,5k.

links: masterlist | part one | part three

note: helloooo. well, it never hurts a little bit of angst. hope you like it and thank you for reading <3

Kiyoomi should have knocked.

He’s not even sure why he didn’t. Maybe because he and Gin had been running back and forth all morning, prepping, shouting over ties and missing cufflinks. Maybe out of habit, or stress, or fate—or whatever force decided that today was the day he’d lose his mind—had made him open the wrong door without thinking. And now, hours later, he was still replaying it in his head like he could rewind and fix something that wasn’t exactly broken… just impossibly complicated.

He didn’t know how to name what he felt when he saw you in that room. In that dress. With the zipper halfway down and your bare back catching the light. He wasn’t sure what short-circuited in his brain when you asked for help. 

He could still feel it.

The soft slide of your skin beneath his fingertips. The slow, fragile lift of your breath when he touched your back. The way you looked at him in the mirror. The way you looked at him. How your lips were so close to his. The way his heart had pounded like it was begging him to break every rule he had. It all felt so unreal, but at the same time so natural, as if it was meant to be. 

He wasn’t even sure what it was. Only that he hadn’t stopped thinking about it since.

The reception was buzzing around him now—people laughing, glasses clinking, silverware scraping against plates. He was seated at a long table with a few of the groomsmen and bridesmaids, perfectly positioned with a clear view of the dance floor and, unfortunately, you. Sitting at a table with your cousins. You weren’t looking at him, and he was trying—really trying—not to look at you either.

But his eyes kept flicking back anyway.

You looked stunning. Well, you always looked nice, but tonight, you looked... so insanely gorgeous. Lit from the inside out, smiling at someone across the table with your whole face, your eyes catching the glow of the string lights above. 

From this distance, it didn’t even seem like all day, the air between you had been charged—so thick with unsaid words it was suffocating.

He shifted in his chair, jaw tight. 

This was ridiculous.

You were his best friend’s little sister. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He wasn't supposed to let it.

Even if Gin had never explicitly said you were off-limits, he’d never had to. There were implications. Subtle ones. Comments here and there. Things like “if she ever dated one of my friends, I’m out, it’d be weird as fuck”—half-joking, half not. Or that time when he was asked which of his friends he would like his sister to go out with, and he didn’t even think to answer “none”, adding a threat to all of them not to even think of his little sister that way. 

Kiyoomi always laughed them off. Played along. Buried the idea deep enough that he could pretend it had never occurred to him that if things were different—if Gin wasn’t his best friend—he was sure you’d be the one. 

But Gin was his best friend. And there were man-codes. Boundaries. Mutual respect. The kind of unspoken rules that kept friendships unshakable for years. Kiyoomi would never do anything to betray that. He would never want to put his friend in an awkward situation. Wouldn’t risk it, no matter how badly he wanted to.

So he decided to hold it back. In a failed attempt of convincing himself that if he ignored the feelings, they would disappear. 

For years, he ignored everything. The thought of how beautiful you were. How he loved the sound of your laugh. How every time he saw a picture of you he sighed with longing. The jealousy he felt when your brother told him you got a boyfriend years ago, and how relieved he felt when months later you broke up. 

Just ignore it, and it will fade away, he told himself every time. 

But it did not. 

Every day it grew stronger. To the point that it was not even a want—it was a need. 

And today, at his best friend’s wedding for god’s sake, apparently he could not hold back anymore. He got carried away, called you beautiful and, if it weren’t for your mother and cousin interrupting you, he would definitely have kissed you. But maybe the interruption was the universe giving him a second chance to not screw things up; although, to be honest, he didn’t know whether to be grateful or angry about that.

And that worried him as hell. 

He needed to talk to you. He needed to clear things up, that what happened—or was about to happen—could not happen ever again.

Even if he wasn’t even sure that’s what he really wanted. 

The nerves were impossible to avoid when he saw standing up and excusing yourself with a small smile to the others before starting to walk toward the hallway that led to the restrooms. This was his chance, and although his legs felt heavy, he stood up immediately and followed you.

He didn’t even know what he was going to say. Just knew he couldn’t let the night stretch on like this—with that moment still hanging in the air between you two like some stormcloud no one wanted to acknowledge.

He caught up just as you turned the corner, heels clicking against the marble, steps slow and graceful.

“Y/n.” He called, voice quieter than he expected. “Can we talk?”

You stopped. For a moment, you didn’t even look at him. Didn’t speak. Just stood there, back still turned, as if debating whether or not to keep walking.

Then you sighed, turned your head slightly over your shoulder. “About what?”

“About earlier.”

A beat of silence. Then a breath. You turned slowly, arms folding across your chest.

Kiyoomi hesitated, suddenly aware of the pulse in his throat. “Look, I—” He ran a hand through his hair. “I shouldn’t have done what I did back in the room.”

Your expression didn’t change. Not visibly. But something flickered in your eyes. He hated that he could tell. 

Still, he forced himself to keep going. 

“I don’t know why I did it. I think I got carried away. It’s been a long day, and—God, I’m not making excuses.” Your eyes narrowed, barely, and he knew you felt that. Knew those words hurt. Fuck, he didn’t want to do this. “I just... I think we need to forget it happened. It was a mistake.” 

You looked at him fully now. Your lips parted, just a little. Then curled, not in a smile, not really—more like disbelief. “A mistake?”

“You’re Gin’s little sister, Y/n. It’s not right.” 

Silence.

Kiyoomi hated this part. The stillness that followed. It  meant you were thinking, weighing what to say—and when you finally spoke, it was quiet but sharp.

“Are you sure you don’t know why it happened?” You asked, and, after he didn’t answer the question, you continued, “Because I know why, and I think you do too.”

His mouth opened. Nothing came out.

Kiyoomi wanted to say no. He wanted to shake his head and turn away and go back to pretending like it had all just been some stupid heat-of-the-moment impulse. He wanted to lie. God, he wanted to lie. To say it didn’t mean anything, that he didn’t feel anything, that this wasn’t killing him. But the words wouldn’t form. The truth was lodged in his chest, weighing him down. 

Still, he forced a breath. “It doesn’t matter.”

You blinked slowly, and he could see it—the disappointment, the anger that cracked underneath the coolness you wore like armor. Your eyes watered, but any tear came out of them. You just stared at him like he wasn’t the person you thought he was, and that hit harder than anything else.

“No.” You said softly. “It never does with you, does it?”

He looked back at you, and for a second, he thought you might say something else. But instead, you just nodded to yourself. Like that was all you needed to hear.

“Good talk, Kiyoomi.”

You walked past him. And he had to ignore that urge to stop you, forget everything he just said, grab you by the cheeks and kiss you with all that desire that had built up over the years. Instead, he turned his head slightly, eyes following as you disappeared around the corner.

He had done the right thing. He had.

But why he felt like he had done something truly unforgivable?

—

There was a bittersweet taste in his mouth as he returned to his seat with the rest of the groomsmen.

None of them seemed to realize that Kiyoomi was one step away from going insane. But maybe that was a good thing, the least he wanted was to have to be asked what was going on, because he didn’t even feel capable of giving a coherent answer that wouldn’t end in confessing that he saw his best’s little sister with different eyes.

So he simply took a sip from his glass of wine, hoping that the bitter taste would give him a momentary distraction and, for the next hour, concentrated on ignoring his thoughts and focusing on the mindless chatter of his tablemates as they ate what was possibly one of the best grilled steaks he had ever tasted (although he didn’t enjoy it as much as he would have liked).

Suddenly, the mic screeched a little as Gin stood from his seat, grinning and pretending to tap it like they did in cheesy movies. The room quieted quickly, laughter and clinking fading into soft attention. He cleared his throat, one hand holding the mic, the other clutching a half-full champagne flute.

“Alright.” He started, already smirking. “I had a whole speech written down, but then I lost it because I’m incredibly disorganized and a little drunk, so now you’re all getting the off-the-cuff version.”

Laughter bubbled across the tables. 

“I’ll keep it short. Mostly because my wife told me if I make her cry again and ruin her make up one more time, she’s walking out with the cake and I’m going home alone.”

More laughter. Kiyoomi felt himself smile faintly, despite everything. His friend always knew how to work a room.

“But seriously.” Gin said, voice dipping a little softer. He turned toward his now wife, smiling in that stupidly in-love way that made Kiyoomi’s throat tighten. “I didn’t know the moment I met Yuna that she’d be the one. Not really. She was just this pretty, smart, terrifying girl who told me I was annoying on our first group project together.”

A chuckle rolled through the crowd.

“But somehow, probably because I’m a bit of a masochist. The more that smart girl roasted me, the more I fell for her. And, for some reason, I couldn’t find it in me to ask her out. I convinced myself it was just a crush. I thought it’d fade and I told myself it wasn’t serious because that was easier than admitting it scared the hell out of me all this love thing.” He paused, glancing at her with that dazed, reverent look people always wore when they were talking about someone they really loved. 

“But, thanks to my best friend, Kiyoomi, who that summer afternoon told me it was time to act like a man and go get her—obviously in more offensive vocabulary—I did confess, and believe I almost fainted when she agreed to go on a date with me.” Gin let out a chuckle, as did Kiyoomi. He remembered that day like it was yesterday, it was the moment he got tired of seeing and hearing his friend’s laments about his hesitation to ask his crush out.

“I think, sometimes, I wish I’d told her sooner. You know? That I just stopped being so lame so we could’ve had more time together. But I’m glad I stopped pretending. I’m proud I told her. Because if I had not done so, I might have been haunted all my life by the thought ‘what if?’” Gin took a moment to take a deep breath, perhaps trying to hold back tears. “And I’m so happy that’s not the case, because now I get to spend the rest of my life being annoying in front of the one person who somehow loves me anyway.”

A quiet awe settled over the room, warm and gentle. Some people were crying. Some others about to. Then his best friend, as much as he made everyone sentimental, managed to lighten the mood. 

“And if anyone wants relationship advice, don’t ask me. Seriously. I once tried to flirt by sending her a meme of a lizard in a tuxedo. She blocked me three days. But hey, here we are.” Everyone burst out laughing again—including Kiyoomi. The bride buried her face in her hands, shaking her head fondly before raising her glass along with her husband. “To love, to timing, and to partners who are somehow patient enough to deal with us. Cheers!”

“Cheers!” The room echoed, clinking glasses.

Kiyoomi took a long sip of champagne. A sip that felt more like a need than just an act of toasting.

Gin’s words hit him harder than he will ever admit—I wish I’d told her sooner. I’m proud I told her. Haunted all my life by the thought, ‘what if?’.

And for a moment—just a breath—he let himself imagine what that could feel like. To reach across the space between you and say what he hadn’t dared to say. To stop pretending it wasn’t that deep. To tell you all the truth, not just about the almost-kiss, not just about today. But everything. That it wasn’t a mistake. That the tension, the gravity pulling him toward you, had always been there. That he was tired of pretending it wasn’t.

But that was all, he just imagined it.

The music was starting back up, and laughter was beginning to rise again as the waiters brought the dessert. Kiyoomi blinked, returning to the present. His eyes found you immediately, like they always did.

And as if you could sense it—sense him—you glanced his way.

Your eyes met only for a second. Then you looked away and took a sip from your glass, unfazed. Untouched. And that stung more than he expected.

Still, he kept looking at you. Because no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop. Admiring you, thinking deeply about whether what he had done was the right thing to do. 

It was. Right?

The thought caught in his throat like a stone, and when he swallowed, it didn’t move. His mind felt numb. His chest tight.

He looked away. He had to. Because for all the things he couldn’t say—right here, right now—the truth was too loud to ignore anymore. 

He didn’t want to spend the rest of his life haunted by what ifs.

But perhaps, because of his own fault, that was now bound to happen.

tagging: @anonymity-222 @hyori2 @sugacor3 @blvewave @k0z3me

[7-deadly-cats]

killing me softly | 10

K M S M A S T E R L I S T | <- P R E V I O U S | N E X T ->

✿ G E N R E ✿ she fell first, he fell harder | slice of life | drama

✿ P A I R I N G ✿ s1!rafe cameron x overthinking!reader (f)

✿ C O N T E N T W A R N I N G ✿ swearing, suggestive language, mild sexual references and implications, mentions of drug cravings (coke), rafe being unable to name his emotions or rather rafe being a pro at deflecting his feelings, just rafe being rafe let's be real

✿ S U M M A R Y O F L A S T P A R T ✿ while rafe was making himself something to eat, you felt comfortable enough to joke around with him openly. later, though, you thought you had annoyed him during the sketchbook discussion and brought it up. rafe reacted irritably which made you snap back at him. after a slightly tense back-and-forth, the argument ended with rafe inviting you to kelce’s party on friday night so you could finally shut your brain off for once. before you could overthink it, you agreed.

✿ W O R D C O U N T ✿ 2.6k+

✿ A / N ✿ after that last part i felt like it made sense to check in with rafe’s pov again aka him being confused as shit (he's so fun to write omg), plus i threw in more smau elements bc i felt silly (that’s also why the written part is shorter than usual). sorry if this part felt a little underwhelming, next part will be more in-person reader x rafe interactions again. anyway, as always, i hope you guys enjoy reading, pls lmk what you think <33

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

W E E K O N E // W E D N E S D A Y

Rafe set his phone back down on the kitchen counter, a frown tugging at his face. These fucking idiots weren’t worth his time.

Shit, he already regretted having mentioned you were coming on Friday in the first place. Now he had to deal with Kelce’s dumbass comments and Topper’s curious bullshit until then.

Already, his phone buzzed again—then again.

Fuck, should’ve just kept my damn mouth shut.

Annoyed, he put his phone on silent, tapping his fingers against the counter while listening to the faint sound of your voice through the door.

A few minutes ago, your phone had gone off at the table—your dad apparently—and you'd quickly excused yourself to take the call in the foyer.

You two had been working for two hours straight on this shitty project, writing stuff down, finalizing ideas and shit, and Rafe had used the moment to refill his water. Bored out of his mind, he’d decided to check the group chat.

And now, who would've guessed, he was pissed again.

What pissed him off the most was stupid Topper actually agreeing with Kelce. Fucking idiot.

Rafe wasn’t acting crazy, the fuck? He’d just made it very clear that the two of them shouldn’t act like brain-dead thirteen-year-olds in front of you on Friday.

You’d already been so fucking tense yesterday at Kelce’s place, and Rafe really didn’t need to soak up more of that nervous energy.

Then again, it wasn’t like he’d invited you as his date or anything. You were just a guest. He wasn’t your fucking babysitter—or boyfriend—or whatever.

At that thought, Rafe furrowed his brows. That’s the last thing he needed—some clingy girl who constantly needed his attention.

After his last situationship with Amelia Brooks, he was done with girls who wanted to talk his ear off or track him down at school to dump some unnecessary bullshit on him.

And honestly? He didn’t even know why he got into the whole fuckbuddies thing with her in the first place. Hanging out with her had been boring as hell and in bed? Same shit.

Shit, next time I get that bored, I’ll just get a fucking dog or something. At least that’d be more fun.

And even though, at first, he’d thought he’d drawn the short straw getting partnered with the quiet girl, he was honestly fucking glad it had been you—out of all the try-hard artsy girls and weird-ass hipster dudes in that class.

You only texted when necessary, never made pointless calls, and today you’d even tried to avoid him at school. Shit, even Kelce acted more like a clingy girl than you did.

Three days into the project, Rafe still couldn’t tell if you actually liked him or just tolerated him. One minute you were distant and off in your own head, the next you were all bubbly and cracking jokes.

So, like, what the fuck?

Either you had some kind of split personality or you were just fucking weird.

Shit, both probably.

Although, the way you’d snapped at him earlier when he'd called you out for overthinking? Yeah, that kinda pointed to the first option. It had thrown him off for sure, but holy fucking shit, more than anything, it had amused him.

Most people didn’t have the balls to push back on him—his annoying sisters being the exception. Girls usually just tried to act all whiny or pulled some pick-me-whatever-bullshit, and if he argued with a FWB chick, he’d just drop her and that'd be it. And guys? A punch usually did the job.

But you? Fuck, he really hadn’t expected you to actually argue with him without throwing curse words at him or some shit like that.

And weirdly, it was kinda refreshing. For once, it'd felt like he'd been talking to an adult, someone who took him seriously and not just started shit to provoke him.

What really caught him off guard, though, was how you could just slide back into a normal conversation afterward—no big blowup, no lingering drama.

How the hell you pulled that off, Rafe had no idea. Not that he cared enough to figure it out. Yeah, sometimes it pissed him off that you wouldn’t just say what was on your mind, but still… you were kinda chill to be around?

Nah. Rafe didn’t know how to describe it. Shit just didn’t feel like a total waste of his free evening, that was all.

The door to the foyer opened, and Rafe straightened up. Judging by your face, the call hadn’t been an emergency.

Rafe leaned back against the counter, a crooked smirk on his face, Topper and Kelce's bullshit forgotten. “Daddy pissed you’ve been gone too long?”

“Ugh,” you said with a frown. “Please never use that term again when referring to my father.”

Rafe chuckled. “Save that shit for the bedroom, I see.”

And holy shit, the way your face always turned red whenever things got even remotely sexual? Rafe found it deeply entertaining. The only dick you’d ever seen was probably in a high school biology textbook.

That’s exactly why you just needed to get it over with, then maybe shit like that wouldn’t throw you off so bad.

Shit, maybe Rafe would get you laid himself if he didn't fear you'd explode at the sight of seeing a cock in real life. Plus you'd probably make things unbearably uncomfortable during sex AND for the remaining project sessions and he absolutely wasn't in for that shit.

Irritated by his own thoughts, he just said, "So, you heading out or what?”

For a second, your brows furrowed for reasons Rafe couldn’t quite figure out. Then you just nodded with a small smile. “Yeah, uh, my dad and I usually do movie nights on Wednesdays and he just wanted to know if we were still in for that.”

Either that was another half-assed excuse or you had some weird-ass relationship with your—

“It’s kind of a tradition,” you added, this time with an awkward smile, “since my mom has her girls’ night every Wednesday. I kinda forgot about that.”

So this was like... a father-daughter bonding thing?

Rafe immediately thought of his dad and favorite child Sarah, and yeah, that pissed him right the fuck off.

He shrugged. “So?”

Your smile faltered a little which did something weird to his chest. “I don’t know, I mean—we got pretty far today, right?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Rafe muttered, arms crossed.

You crossed yours too, scratching at your upper arm. “Okay… so maybe we call it a night then.” There was an hesitation in your voice and after a small pause you added, “Unless you wanna continue.”

An awkward smile tugged at your lips, and the fact that you still looked uncomfortable around him irritated the hell out of Rafe.

He nodded slowly, shrugging the weird feeling in his chest off as annoyance. “Yeah, nah. I’m done with school-shit for today.”

You mimicked his nod with a subtle frown. “I think next time we can start with the final draft,” you said, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Depending on when you’re free.”

Didn’t you have art class together tomorrow? Whatever.

Rafe exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “No idea. I’m at the country club tomorrow, and Friday’s Kelce’s dumbass party.”

You nodded and let out a stiff little chuckle. “Yeah, no, definitely not in the mood to work then either.”

No shit.

“Yeah, Saturday’s off the table because of that, and Sunday’s that open-air movie thing,” Rafe added, half considering asking if you wanted to join but then, why the fuck would he? Just so he wouldn’t have to bear Topper and Kelce alone?

Yeah, nah. He’d just do a line before, and they’d be bearable enough.

You nodded again. “Okay, yeah, no big deal. We’ll figure something out next week then.”

But the smile on your face didn’t quite match the weird tone in your voice, and fuck—why were you so damn complicated?

“Yeah.” Rafe pushed off the counter with a quick nod and jerked his chin toward the dining room. “Don’t forget your stuff.”

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

After the door clicked shut behind you, Tannyhill fell into a weird kind of silence that made Rafe feel… off.

Not uncomfortable or lonely or any of that bullshit, he didn’t even know what it was exactly. It felt more like coming down from a line. And this being the closest comparison he could come up with?

Had to be withdrawals from last weekend or some bullshit like that.

And the fact that he’d sold his last damn gram to that bum Scott yesterday? Yeah, that wasn’t helping either.

In fact, it just worsened his mood.

Fuck, now that he thought about it—feeling that void—he needed it even more.

Jaw tight, Rafe made his way upstairs to grab his wallet. As much as it pissed him off to hand over the cut, Barry needed his fucking share if Rafe wanted to keep dealing.

At the door, he grabbed his motorcycle helmet, already halfway out, when he noticed—no phone.

Groaning, he set the helmet down and started searching the kitchen. He spotted it lying on the dining room table, and turned to head out when—

The fuck?

Something white caught his eye on the carpet: your dumbass Apple Pencil. He’d nearly stepped on it.

Annoyed, he picked it up. Usually, your brain caught every fucking thought in the goddamn world—how the hell did you forget this?

Fuck, no. If this was some kind of "girl marks her territory" move, holy shit, absolutely not.

He placed the pencil on the table and pulled out his phone, brows furrowed.

Rafe let his phone drop back into his shorts pocket and just stood there for a second, completely blanking on what the hell he'd even been about to do before having texted with you.

You’d scrambled his fucking brain again, and like, no joke, what the actual fuck was going on in your head? Or more like: what the fuck did you even base that occasional attitude on?

Because this? What. The. Fuck.

He’d gone into that damn chat pissed, annoyed at your dumbass Apple Pencil, and now he had another app on his phone and let himself get pulled into those fucked up weird-ass-creature-whatever-pictures.

And the fact that Sarah had been talking to Wheezie about you? Fuck, that nearly sent him into full rage mode. He legit wanted to crash Sarah’s stupid little hangout with her lame-ass little friends and tell her to keep her fucking nose out of shit that was none of her business.

Somehow though, there was this weird, lingering lightness in his chest that kept him from doing so. And he had no fucking clue what it meant.

Rafe rubbed the bridge of his nose, brows knit. Fuck, what—At this point, he wasn’t even sure anymore if it was withdrawals, because come on, his coke usage hadn’t even been that heavy lately.

Or maybe Kelce was fucking right. Maybe you really were a goddamn witch.

Because fuck, sometimes you made his nerves fucking boil, frustrated the shit out of him with that split-personality vibe of yours, but just as fast as that feeling came, it vanished again.

And what fucked with his head the most?

You actually seemed to care. Not in some fake or soft, pathetic way—but like… you noticed when he was pissed. And you tried to understand why.

Like today. With the sketchbook thing.

Rafe just couldn’t, for the fucking life of him, understand why you couldn’t just rip one goddamn page out of the sketchbook, set Wheezie’s pad aside, and be done with it. But no, you had to start arguing with him about privacy or whatever kind of bullshit.

That had definitely pulled at his nerves but he had seen the way you’d reacted yesterday when he picked up your iPad, and even though he still didn’t get it, he figured it must mean something to you.

Yeah, and then? You'd called him out on his mood.

And holy shit, you'd been like two seconds away from giving one of those weird-ass little speeches again that made both of you feel uncomfortable as shit.

So he’d cut just you off. Shut your bullshit down before you got any deeper. And that—fucking hell—that’s when you'd snapped.

But just as fast, you’d chilled out again, even gotten soft. And then you started with that “Overthinking is a me problem” crap.

Like dude, could you please just shut your damn brain off for one minute?

And since your nervous energy was starting to give him a migraine—and Rafe couldn’t stand one more goddamn second or project session of that kind—he decided he’d put an end to it.

Once and for all.

Or at least until the project was over. After that, you could go back to spiraling for all he cared.

Jesus. Just the thought of seeing you at Kelce’s party on Friday. He almost felt bad for you.

Kelce’s parties weren’t like regular Kook parties. Nah, that fucking idiot had to go big every time.

He’d invite like 200% more people than his parents’ place could physically hold, and 90% of them were some annoying bitches from school, the other 10% just random dudes Kelce was cool with or knew from the gym.

The music? Played at a volume that could probably be heard across the goddamn Cut. And the alcohol? Jesus fucking Christ. Liquor stores probably quadrupled their profit that weekend alone.

Not to mention the lineup of party drugs.

Rafe had once taken acid from some random dude and had ended up hallucinating his fucking soul out.

After that? He stuck with Barry’s shit. At least with him, Rafe knew that guy wouldn't try to kill him.

And girls like you? Shy and introverted: your spawn rate at those parties was basically zero.

Sure, Rafe had subconsciously noticed you at other parties or bonfires before. You weren’t new to the scene exactly. But a Kelce party?

Shit. Either you were gonna get eaten alive or throw your overthinking brain in the trash and actually let go for once.

And Rafe? He had no clue how you were gonna play it. Which, fuck, only made him even more curious for Friday.

Would you actually be down to do a line? Or would you just curl up in some quiet corner with a lame-ass beer?

If some annoying bitch tried to start a fake-deep convo with you just to squeeze gossip out of your shy little mouth, would you entertain her? Or let yourself get dragged into gossip on your own?

And what Rafe was most curious about—what really fucked with his head—was this: If one of Kelce’s gym-bro frat-type assholes came up and started hitting on you, would you let him? Or would you hide behind your friend, pretend you weren’t even there?

Then—bam—out of the blue, some random image popped into his brain.

You. With some dude. Making out in some dark-ass corner. Your hands in his hair. Your lips on his and—

What the fuck.

Rafe furrowed his brows, rubbed a hand down his face like he could scrub the image from his mind, and physically shook his head to throw it off.

Shit.

He needed a line. Two, actually. Shit, maybe three at this point.

He grabbed your goddamn Apple Pencil and shoved it in his backpack by the front door, grabbed his helmet, and shot Barry a quick text:

Because fuck. Rafe didn’t even know what was making his head ache this bad. Or this—Jesus Christ—this weird-ass feeling in his chest.

Like pressure. Or heat. Or fucking whatever.

All he knew was that it pissed him off to be stuck in his own brain like this right now with no one around to entertain him with their bullshit.

Because, shit, yeah, surprisingly Rafe found you—your nervousness excluded—oddly … easy to be around. And in just three days, he’d already gotten so used to your presence, this new, unknown variable in his life that entertained him that–

Fuck all that.

Why the hell was this even taking up space in his head?

Annoyed by something he couldn’t even name, Rafe slammed the door of Tannyhill behind him, mind already locked in on the high waiting for him at Barry’s shitty-ass trailer.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

K M S M A S T E R L I S T | <- P R E V I O U S | N E X T ->

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

T A G L I S T F O R M If you're only interested in this series, it's enough to drop a comment, no need to fill out the form

@ursogorgeous13 @my-name-is-baby @moneybaby07 @jjasmiineee @sttaejoon-blog @vogueprincess @princesspeaxhh @wtfisastiles @wefelldowntherabbithole13 @rafes4 @kathryn-maraudersversion @wuluhwuhmaster @torturedtypewritersdept @sfotiegiuls @ltristessedureratoujours @stoned-writer @lunaleah @akobx @cokewithcameron @b00klvrs @rafesdrew @mattyskies @yktayy9669 @beabafreakbee @c1gsafterwhat @drewstarkeyswife-7 @wtfdudesblog @akobx @wintercrows @miaaaoa @setmefreemyg @pogueprincesa @chimchimjiminie16 @drewstarkeysrightarm @wtfdudesblog @wolfstarsimpxx @emmiesummers @oreocheesecake-12 @brycesfav @ayy1234567 @rgeraldg @stanseventeen @louvrgirl @Chaoticromantic @drewstarkeysrealwife

[roxabellas]

People Like You Fuck People Like Me

｡･:*:･ﾟ༓･*˚⁺‧͙ﾟ+..｡*ﾟ+˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚₊✩｡˚☽

part one two three four

word count : 15,576

warnings : he's back. very long one to make up for the wait. sex work, cheating, age gap (19 & 38, then 39), phone sex, masturbation (him), fingering (reader), argument, i guess implications of a little drinking problem, missionary, TINY footjob, feet kink, daddy kink, hes a bit strange again, hes still sad

You'd only given him your phone number a few days ago, writing it on the back of his hand with a broken pen you'd found in one of the hotel bedside table drawers that barely had any ink left. He'd been circling the topic for a couple of weeks, always in that tone where you couldn't quite tell what he was trying to convey, whether he was joking or if he was completely serious.

“At my age, you know, it gets hard walking halfway across the city as often as I do, looking for you,” he'd muttered last time as he tied up the laces on his shoes. “And it's not like anyone else has got a hold on you, anyway.”

You'd known what he was really asking for from the very first subtle hint he'd dropped, but you'd just been waiting for him to ask you properly, to tell you what he actually wanted.

It was just past midnight when your phone lit up on your bedside table with a dull buzz against the smooth oak wood, and you reached over with a quiet grunt to pick it up, tugging the charging cable out of the port with a click.

You squinted your eyes as the screen bloomed to life, a gentle glow that was a little too harsh for your eyes after they'd adjusted to the dark casting across your face as you smeared a spiral pattern across the dots on the grid to unlock it, your homescreen wallpaper greeting you with familiarity as it blinked on.

You swiped your notifications down, and nestled between a notice from the bank and someone adding to their Instagram story, there was a text with his name perched above the message, reading, You awake, baby?

You shifted on your side, one hand coming up to rub at your eyes while you considered whether or not you should even reply. You could leave it. Turn your phone off, plug it back in, roll over and fall asleep. Deal with him the next morning. But there was that nagging feeling inside you, whether it was in your heart, your stomach or your brain, you weren't sure, but it was persistent, gnawing. The thought of him sat hunched over alone in bed, or on the edge of the bath, or on the couch, undoubtedly with his trousers around his ankles, his cheek slightly squished as he rested his face in his hand, and staring at his phone screen as he waited for your reply. It made your heart ache, in a strange way.

You sunk your teeth into your inner cheek, your lips pursing as you contemplated for a moment more, before you pressed on the notification, the screen opening up to your messages with him. You hadn't sent many to each other, and most of them had been sent by him, usually just a ‘hello’, or small updates on how his day was going.

You pulled up your keyboard on your screen and typed, Yeah. You okay?

The two ticks tucked just beneath your words flickered to blue immediately after you pressed the send icon, and he replied quickly, Need to hear your voice.

There was a short pause after he sent that text, and your chest tightened, heart stuttering with something between dread and anticipation. You imagined him typing, deleting, then typing again, the hesitation palpable even through the screen, before he sent another message. Can I call you?

You let his message sit for a moment, your tongue poking out to wet your lower lip where the dryness had been spreading from your breathing, and you sighed before sending, Yeah.

Your phone screen lit up with the incoming call just a few moments later, softly buzzing against your palm like a heartbeat as it chimed. It felt heavier, as if just his name brought the weight of all of his burdens with it, no matter where it was. You answered it, rolling onto your back and looking up at the ceiling as you brought your phone up to your ear.

You could hear his heavy breathing on the other end of the line, coming in sharp, quick exhales and slow, quiet inhales. He didn't speak for a moment, waiting to see if you'd say something first, but when he realised you weren't going to, he said, “Hi, petal.”

His voice was rough, slightly gravelly, like he'd just been crying, or like he was trying his very best not to. You breathed in slowly. “Hi.”

You heard him swallow thickly before he asked, making an attempt at softening his voice, “I didn't wake you up, did I?”

One of your hands came up to your hair, your fingers fiddling with the messy strands, twirling and tugging, before you replied simply, “No.”

He exhaled and you heard the soft scrape of his hand rubbing over his face, over and across his stubble, and he murmured, “She's asleep on the settee downstairs. Told her I had heartburn. I'm upstairs. In the bathroom.”

“Are you?”

“Mhm.”

“You okay?”

“No.”

He sounded more tired on the phone, his voice weighted, and he sounded older, in a way, carrying a subtle rasp. “I've been thinking about you a lot,” he continued.

You smiled a little, and he heard it creep into your voice. “You say that all the time.”

“Because I'm thinking about you all the time.”

You didn't reply, letting the silence settle between you for a while, heavy, but not entirely uncomfortable, until his voice split through the quiet once more.

“What are you wearing, baby?”

His tone was gentle, sweet, coaxing, almost paternal, in an odd way. It made you feel warm, the tone of his words wrapping around you like a blanket despite the physical distance between you.

“Just my t-shirt. The one I sleep in,” you answered, idly running your fingers along the neckline of your top and fidgeting with a loose thin string.

There was another short moment of quiet, before he licked his lips, gripping his phone tighter. “Nothing else?”

You smiled. “No. Why?”

He didn't answer for a moment, his slow, slightly uneven breathing filling the silence on the other end. “I just wanted to imagine you. Safe and soft… all tucked up in bed…”

He trailed off, chewing on the inside of his cheek as a slow, coiling heat curled up through his belly like smoke from the end of a cigarette.

“I bet you look so cute…” he whispered, his voice slightly strained as he adjusted his grip on his phone, the stirring in his groin growing more pronounced and insistent as he imagined you. He closed his eyes with a small sigh, imagining you in a way he'd had you many times before, down on your knees in front of him, nestled between his legs, looking up at him with those devastating eyes that made his heart beat as loud as thunder.

You pictured him, whether he was sat on the floor, on the rim of the tub, or on top of the toilet seat, the harsh light of his bathroom throwing uneven shadows across his tired face. It sent a dull wave of warmth through your stomach like a tide at dawn, rippling up to your chest.

“What are you wearing?” you asked, shifting under your duvet and raising your back up off of the mattress, propping yourself up against the headboard before adjusting the neckline of your shirt around your shoulders.

He let out a small breath of something that resembled a laugh, just barely audible, and he said, “My top. Boxers. That's it.”

“No trousers?”

“Not at the moment.”

You heard a soft creak from his end of him shifting his weight, and he bit his rough lower lip. One hand rubbed along his thigh, over the soft cotton of his underwear, the fabric growing taut as his cock stiffened beneath it. He let out a small groan as he brushed his finger against his clothed tip, his eyes fixed on his crotch, and he murmured, “Wish you were here, love…”

The stems of the heat that had been rooted in your crotch made their way up your body, constricting and winding around your stomach, lungs, ribs and heart until they bloomed and blossomed in your chest, spreading a warmth through your, seeping deep into your bones.

“What would you do?” you asked softly, reaching behind your head to scratch an itch on the back of your neck “If I was there?”

There was a pause for a moment, and you pressed your thighs together beneath your duvet before crossing your legs at your ankles, and he finally replied with a slow breath, dragged out by tension and need, “I'd kiss you, baby… I've not been able to stop thinking about it. I haven't kissed my wife for days because I'm scared I'll forget what your lips felt like.”

He swallowed, his throat tightening as he heard your soft breathing on the other end of the line, uninterrupted, waiting, so he continued, thinking each word out to the best of his ability.

“Then I'd kiss your neck, all the way down… you'd be on top of me, baby. And I'd hold your hips, help you grind on me, feel how hard you get me…”

He cut himself off as he bit his bottom lip, his palm now working in slow, meditated strokes along his shaft through the thin fabric of his boxers, the friction of the barrier between his skin making his breath catch in his throat. A few of his particularly thick pubes poked through the soft cotton, scratching lightly against his skin.

You ran your hand through your hair as he continued to talk, his soft words laced with equal parts promise and lust. “I'd make you keep your eyes on mine… wouldn't let you look away, not once. And you'd call me daddy, wouldn't you, petal?”

“Mhm,” you replied quietly, letting him immerse himself in what he needed so desperately.

“Say it for me, baby…”

You could hear his breathing, thick and ragged, and you said softly, “Daddy.”

“Yeah…” he sighed, the sound melting into a whimper towards the end, and you heard the quiet sound of elastic snapping back against skin as he freed himself from the tight, constricting confines of his underwear, the cool air of the bathroom hitting his throbbing cock like a whip.

He wrapped his fingers around the base where his thick thatch of pubes had climbed up just a little like ivy, not too loose but not too tight, and he squeezed a little before you interrupted his thoughts, your voice gentle but enticing as you said, “Keep talking to me, daddy…”

He let out a small moan, dragging his fist up his shaft as he murmured, “I'd help you put it in, petal… make you feel every inch until it's all the way in.”

He rubbed his thumb over the tip, collecting and smearing the dewy precum that had gathered there along the swollen, angry red head before dipping it a little bit lower, using the pad of his thumb to rub small circles around that small ridge tucked just beneath the head.

He hissed out a moan through his teeth, pulling his hand up from the base all the way up to the tip, twisting his wrist to the left when he reached the top before bringing it back down again.

“Baby…” he whined, chewing on his lower lip as he felt himself growing so near to peak so soon. “Tell me you're touching yourself too, baby.”

You shuffled back down on your bed, resting your head against the pillow again before you said, your voice laced with a subtle, velvety rasp that he loved so much, “Mhm…”

You weren't, but that didn't matter. All that mattered to you was enabling him, letting him surrender to what he craved the most.

His chapped lips formed a soft ‘o’ shape as he let out a breathy, high-pitched moan, the noise raw and packed full of desire. The soft, wet squelch of his hand stroking up and down his cock bled through the small speaker on your phone, punctuated by his quick, shallow breaths, making your chest ache.

He choked out another few words, to keep the fantasy in his head going, his eyes fluttering shut. “I'd rub your clit for you, love… little circles… and I'd thrust up into you, just so you wouldn't have to do anything.”

He swallowed hard and tilted his head to the side, securing his phone between his shoulder and his cheek as he brought his other hand down to his shaft, planting his palm on the tip and rubbing in slow, tantalising circles, his hand growing slicker with each movement.

“You'd- fuck… you'd let me touch your feet, wouldn't you, sweetheart?” he panted, licking his lips at just the thought of them as a few of his sweaty strands fell in his eyes, and you hummed affirmatively in response.

The spark ignited in his lower belly as he tightened his finger around his shaft, his palm circling his slit as precum poured out of him like a fountain. The flame travelled up the fuse coiled inside of him, gradually burning and withering away the string as his grip on his cock tightened and his grip on his control loosened.

He managed to sputter out a few words in the midst of his haze, babbling, “Are- are you gonna cum too, baby?”

You smiled a little and let out a soft, fabricated moan before you hummed, “Mhm…”

He panted out a long, drawn out whine at your small noise, and he said, voice strained from both the angle of his neck and how close he was to the brink of his orgasm, just teetering on the edge, “Yeah- yeah, baby… gonna cum with me?” 

His voice sounded broken, ragged, similar to how his tone usually sounded before he cried, and you murmured, trying to mask the fact that you weren't even touching yourself at all, “I'm gonna cum, daddy…”

He bit down on his bottom lip, hard enough to leave marks, and his flushed face scrunched up and he shut his eyes as the flame finally reached the bomb, his hips twitching and stuttering as he desperately clawed after his release.

His orgasm exploded inside of him, shrapnel hitting every inch and corner of his body as he cupped his hand that was on his tip around the head while his other stayed tightly wrapped around his shaft, his fingers squeezing and his wrist faltering as his cum shot out and pooled in his palm.

His phone fell to the floor beside him from his shoulder with a clatter as he moaned your name between breathless pants and gasps as he wrung himself out, the last dregs of his release dripping down his shaft with each slow upstroke of his fist.

Phosphenes contaminated his vision behind his closed eyelids, black and white shapes morphing and stretching like an optical illusion, like a kaleidoscope of checkered squares on a chess board.

When he finally peeled his eyes open, a little dazed, his pupils sunk down to his phone that had fallen on the floor beside his hip, face up, your name still displayed on the screen. He dragged his eyes to his cock, pulsating and twitching tiredly, lay spent across his palm as it slowly deflated.

You were still able to hear his deep, raspy breathing, though it was distant due to his phone being on the floor next to him, and you heard him shuffle a little, the crack of his knees giving him away as he stood up.

He hobbled the few steps towards the sink, twisting the tap on and rinsing his hands beneath the warm, constant stream of water, watching the remnants of his milky release swirl around the porcelain before meeting its demise and washing away down the drain.

He didn't bother with soap, just got the worst of it off with water before flicking the tap off and drying them off with an old towel with tears and holes around the edges that was draped over the rack.

He came back to his phone, dragging his feet with each small step, and he bent over to pick it up before bringing it back up to his ear, and he exhaled before murmuring softly, “You still there, petal?”

You let out a small, tired groan in response, and he laughed quietly. “Are you sleepy, baby?”

“Mhm,” you responded, slightly muffled, and you could hear the warm, gentle smile in his voice as he continued.

“You all tucked in, nice and warm?” he murmured, each word feeling like a kiss. “Daddy doesn't want you to be cold.”

That made your stomach tighten, even with how tired you were. He never referred to himself as daddy, he just liked to be called it by you.

“I'm warm,” you replied, letting your drowsy eyes fall shut as he continued to speak, his gentle but gruff voice gradually lulling you to sleep.

A small huff of air came from his nose, accompanied by a little quirk of his lips. “I wish I could take care of you, baby… all the time. I'd look after you how you need. Promise.”

You hummed gently, barely a vibration of your throat, before he continued, his voice more fragile, making way for his stream of emotions that usually followed his orgasms.

“I'd cook for you. Or I'd learn to cook for you, then I'd cook for you. I'd clean the sheets. Clean everything. I'd rub your back when your tummy hurts. You'd never have to do anything, petal.”

You let your mind feed into and believe what he was saying, his words tugging and pulling at the strings of your heart. It's times like this that made you wish it wasn't so unconventional. Wish he was twenty years younger, wish he was never married, wish you'd never gotten yourself into the harrowing cycle of sex work.

“Are you free tomorrow, sweetheart?” he asked carefully after a moment of quiet.

You inhaled deeply, still sleepy, before you replied, your voice barely a murmur, “Yeah.”

His smile crept into his voice. “Great, love. Can I see you tomorrow night? At The Swan?”

You couldn't recall which pub he was referring to, your mind starting to slip into unconsciousness, and you whispered, bordering on sleep talk, “Mhm.”

“Good girl,” he said, softening his tone as he started to realise you were hardly awake anymore. “I'll give you kisses, okay, baby?”

He didn't expect a proper response, and you gave another half-hearted hum, before he murmured, “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

Before ending the call, he brought his phone from his ear to his face, his heart clenching as his eyes scanned over your precious name, and he pressed a kiss to his screen, closing his eyes, letting himself feel closer to you for a moment. He pulled his lips back with a quiet mwah sound, a subtle pop of his lips, and he reluctantly pressed the red icon at the bottom of his screen to end the call.

He stared at his phone for a few minutes after. You were on call for just over thirty-four minutes. He read the numbers lined up in your phone number over and over again, studying them. He never wanted to forget them.

When he tore his eyes away from the poison of his phone screen, he looked down, his now-soft cock hanging heavy between his thighs, the underside brushing against the fabric of his boxers which were left clung around his hips.

He swiped his thumbs beneath the taut elastic waistband and pulled them back up to his hips with a dull snap as it hit his skin, and he trudged towards the bathroom door, wrapping his fingers around the handle before pulling it open with a squeak and a whine from the hinges.

He dropped one arm to his side, the cool screen of his phone brushing against the side of his thigh with each step as he padded down the hallway towards his bedroom, while the other idly played with the hem of his shirt, his fingertips accidentally brushing against his belly every so often.

He bunted the door to his bedroom open with his shoulder, and he craned his head around the doorframe quietly, just to make sure his wife hadn't come upstairs while he was on the phone to you in the bathroom. The bed was empty, as it almost always was these days, so he pushed the door shut behind him with a click, bent down to plug the charger into the port on the bottom of his phone, and he set it on the bedside table before climbing into bed, settling on the left side where he usually slept.

There was an indent in the middle of the pillows on his side, further indicating which side was his, and he nestled his head into it, letting the softness of it surround him, block out what he didn't want to acknowledge. His hair was a little greasy, falling in thick strands around his face, but he told himself he'd have a shower the next morning before he saw you, despite knowing you probably wouldn't care. You'd very happily fucked him in worse states before.

He let his eyes fall shut, sliding a hand beneath his pillow as he steadied and evened out his breathing, letting sleep take over his aching body and bruised mind.

When he woke up the next morning, it was to a soft hand snaking around his waist from behind, thin, delicate fingers dancing along his side.

He pursed his lips a little, his face scrunching up. She'd been touchier recently, not necessarily with love, but something that made itself comfortable in the space where their love used to lie.

“Morning,” she murmured, her voice hoarse in a way that felt too forced, too fake, like she was trying to trick him into thinking she slept well, something so small, and it irked him.

He hummed, his back still facing her, and he spoke with a groggy voice, “Didn't hear you come in.”

She hummed vaguely, moving her hand up to his chest and fiddling with the short hairs there before adding, “Didn't want to wake you.”

Her fingers traced patterns over his sternum, occasionally brushing against his nipples in a way that made him feel disconnected from his own body. He didn't like it. It had been a long time since he had liked it.

She kissed his shoulder blade, pressing her lips to his skin once, twice, then a third time, and it felt like she was doing it more for herself than for him.

He sighed internally before forcing himself to turn, the small movement looking and sounding like it took a lot more effort than it should, all the weight on his shoulders and in his mind making it hard for him to move as effortlessly.

He glanced down at her, nestling against his arm like she wanted to be tucked beneath it, but he didn't budge. He brought a hand up to his face, rubbing at his eyes as he asked half-heartedly, “You alright?”

She nodded quickly, the tangled strands of her hair tickling his arm, and it made him sigh. “Just tired.”

She shifted closer to him, throwing a leg over his, wrapping a hand around his wrist, resting her head on his shoulder, all with zero reciprocation from him.

He'd thought that maybe she was just trying. An attempt to fix what they both knew had long since crumbled.

Her tongue poked out to swipe along her bottom lip, her fingers still tracing patterns on his skin that had begun to irritate him, and she said, “I was thinking we could go out later. For a drink. Just us.”

He blinked up at the ceiling, biting at the inside of his cheek, and he looked down at her again. “Tonight?”

“Yeah, tonight. It's been a while, hasn't it?” she said, but to him, it sounded rehearsed.

He paused, his lips slightly parted before he said, making something believable up, “I can't, I'm going out with my mates tonight. I thought I told you.”

“Oh,” she said quietly, though he could tell there was some semblance of relief laced deep into her tone. “You didn't tell me.”

“Sorry,” he muttered, propping himself up on his palms behind him, the mattress denting and sheets creasing beneath his hands.

She let her hand slip from his chest as he sat up, the silence stretching between them thin and sharp as a blade.

He carefully swung his legs over the edge of the bed, easing himself out from beneath the duvet, and he crossed the room to the door that she must've pulled to after coming in. He ran his hand through his hair as he walked down the hallway towards the bathroom, and it clung to his fingers slightly, the strands weighed down and a little limp.

He stepped into the bathroom, the harsh yellow overhead light illuminating the room as he flicked it on and stepped in. He could see the dark shadowed corpses of a few bugs above in the fixture of the light, but he brushed it off. I'll clean it another time, he said to himself for the thousandth time.

He closed the door behind him with a click before pulling his shirt over his head and peeling his boxer shorts down his legs, kicking them off and tossing them aside along with his top.

He reached over the edge of the bathtub, twisting the dial to turn the hot water on, and the shower head sputtered to life before turning into a steady stream. He scratched the corner of his eye before stepping in, the heat of the water hitting his skin and flushing it a soft red, like ruby roses blooming all across his body.

He tilted his head back, letting it run through his hair, over his shoulders, down his back and across his legs. It felt good, letting the steam envelop him like the embrace his body craved for, and he worked the shampoo through his hair, fingers scrubbing against his scalp a little harsher than necessary as the soapy water dribbled down his nape.

His hands travelled and explored his own body as he lathered the soap over his limbs. The scent was hard to put a finger on. It was undeniably very masculine. Almost minty, in a way. Musky. Woody.

He rubbed it into his skin with languid circular motions, the thin white bubbles spread across his body like sea foam. The water travelled through his hair and trickled down his spine, and he closed his eyes, damp lips parted as steam curled past his mouth, and he let out a long breath.

He let his mind wander to you, to later that night, picturing your sweet smile, your delicious moans, your soft hands. His cock stirred slightly, undoubtedly, twitching purely from the mental imagery of you. It was pathetic how easy it was for you to wind him up, even when you're not even there. Your warm mouth that just felt like home, your quiet whimpers whenever he coaxed you through it, your gentle voice calling him daddy in that tone that made his heart ache and his cock throb.

He swallowed thickly, his jaw tight and neck tense, and he rubbed his forehead, trying to distract himself from how much he missed you.

He rinsed off the rest of the soap in silence, slowly, dragging it out as much as possible to elongate his alone time. To try and gather his bearings, at least a little bit, before he had to pretend again. Pretend to enjoy her company, pretend to like the way she speaks, the jokes she makes, the opinions she has. Pretend to not hate the wallpaper plastered across the walls, the knick knacks tucked and perched on top of and in between bookcases and dressers, or all of the furniture that just looked wrong. All of which had been chosen by his wife.

But tonight, he'd see you again. Maybe he'd still hate the dated furniture in the dingy hotel room, despise the oddly patterned wallpaper stuck onto the walls of the rented space, but at least he'd be with you. And that was enough motivation to make it through another day.

Though it dragged on, like it was attached to two ball and chains, he pushed through. You were his prize for completing a tough day.

After his shower, he dressed himself quietly, quickly, a soft shirt followed by a black pair of boxers, then a pair of deep blue jeans that seemed to hang a little looser around his hips than they used to, and his black leather belt to hopefully hold them in place.

He made his way downstairs, the faint hiss of the kettle coming down after reaching its climax filtering into his ears as he stepped into the kitchen, and he saw her leaning against the counter, giving her a half-hearted smile before she asked, “Want a coffee?”

He shook his head, his damp strands shaking with the movement, and he said, “No thanks, love.”

He lingered in the middle of the room, watching as she tore open an instant coffee sachet and poured it into a black and white stripey mug that she often used before filling it with the boiled water, and he said, a bit awkwardly, “I'm gonna head out for a bit now.”

She turned her head over her shoulder. “I thought it wasn't until tonight?”

He dragged a hand through his hair, a few droplets clinging to his fingers. “No, no, it's not, I just want to get some fresh air.”

She peeled her eyes off of him after a moment too long, looking back down at her mug as she stirred, watching the foam swirl and spiral under the twirling movements of her spoon. “Okay.”

She didn't say anything else. Maybe she was happy he was going.

It was around mid-morning when he left the house, climbed into his car, and just drove aimlessly. He was on the road for a while, driving past familiar places as well as some places he'd only passed once or twice in his life before.

After about an hour, he finally pulled into a car park and slotted himself between two of the white lines on the ground, albeit a bit wonky.

He pulled out his phone and opened his messages with you, scrolling all the way back up to the start. You hadn't sent very many, usually just a few short words in response to something he'd said, but he cherished each and every one of them.

He pulled up the keyboard and typed, Can't wait for tonight x, before turning his phone off again and tossing it onto the passenger seat. His lips pursed as he chewed on the inside of his cheek, his eyes squinted against the gentle sun as he looked over the sparsely filled car park through his windshield.

He sat there for a while, in the quiet, in the still, indulging himself in his thoughts as he found a soft comfort in the silence. He thought about what he'd ask you for, if anything. Sometimes he just liked a cuddle and a chat, a shoulder to lean on and an ear to listen.

The sun travelled higher in the sky, heating up the black leather of his car seats until they burned to the touch despite it being so late in the year. It was boring, sat alone in his car, doing nothing, but it was better than being home. Anything was better than being home.

The hours passed like boulders as he sat alone in his car, grueling, slow and heavy as they rolled by. He didn't know what to do with himself until the evening, until 7PM when he'd told you he'd meet you. The birds chirped and sang as they flew through the air and perched in trees, and his eyes scanned over the skyline once more before starting his car up again, the small screen in the middle of the dashboard flickering to life. The clock on the screen was an hour ahead, something that had been an issue ever since he bought the car that he'd never been able to fix.

By the time 6:30PM rolled around, he had already driven back to town and was sat in the small car park of the bar, tucked behind a few other buildings and a small, dingy playground that looked like it had definitely seen better days.

He reached over and picked up his phone from the passenger seat and opened his messages before typing a quick text to you, reading, Here x.

He hit send before tucking it into the back pocket of his jeans and opening his car door with a creak. He stepped out, the gravel crunching beneath his feet as he made his way to the front of the bar. The exterior was nice, deep blue-purple lined with dark oak wood. You'd been here with him a handful of times, and he was sure the workers knew what you two got up to upstairs by now.

He pushed open the door of the bar, the hinges whining, punctuated by a small ring of a bell above the door. He made his way across the intricately patterned carpet, rogue pieces of chewing gum dotted across it, accompanied by a rather large beer stain contaminating the design of the floor in one corner.

He perched his elbows on the sticky oak wood of the bar, his eyes tracing along the edges of the rubber beer mat before asking the bartender for a whiskey.

His eyes scanned over the room as his drink was poured, over the group of elderly men in the corner who looked like they bet too much on the horses, over the woman with bleached hair and chipped nail polish chatting loudly on the phone, over the small group of lads who looked to be about your age dressed in football t-shirts with pints in their hands.

He took his drink to a small table in the corner, the chair squeaking as he sat down, and he set his glass atop a flimsy coaster. He took a slow sip, the liquor burning as it trickled down his throat, and he watched the clock, watched the seconds tick by with an embarrassing amount of concealed excitement.

He fished his phone out of his back pocket once more, more out of instinct than need, and he swiped it open with the pad of his thumb. No new messages, but he didn't mind. He opened the app anyway, your name perched at the top of his screen with a red heart beside it. It made him smile a little.

He wrapped his fingers around the short glass again, bringing it up to his lips for another swig. He drank a bit more this time, letting it fill his mouth half-way before he swallowed, the flame of the spirit tingling down his throat like the curling, blackened edges of a burning piece of paper.

He glanced at the clock mounted high up on the opposite wall. 6:44PM. Only sixteen minutes. Nine hundred and sixty seconds.

They crept by like years, 6:47, 6:51, 6:56. He shifted in his seat, the torn leather cushion beneath him on the seat creaking quietly, and he drained the last of his whiskey before setting the glass down with a quiet clink and wiping his palms on the front of his jeans.

He checked his phone again, lay flat on the shiny, tacky table. The read receipt nestled beneath his text had turned blue, indicating you'd read it, that you were on your way. His knee bounced and he fidgeted with his fingers beneath the table, but quickly retracted his hands when they accidentally brushed against a chewed up piece of gum that someone had stuck to the underside of it.

He licked his lips before lightly biting down on his bottom one. 6:58, 6:59, 7:00. His eyes darted to the door, but nothing. A couple more minutes passed, 7:01, 7:02, 7:03, and a miniscule flicker of doubt sparked in his chest, but he quickly buried it. He knew you weren't like that, but he knew what you were like. Usually late. But it didn't stop the small twinge of worry from festering in his heart, stemming from the strange paternal instincts he nurtured for you.

When the rickety door finally squeaked open, he smiled widely, his eyes squinting, and he tucked his phone back into the back pocket of his jeans. You looked beautiful in the dim light, making his throat tighten as he swallowed and his arm going still, thankfully preventing him from waving like an idiot.

When you spotted him in the corner, a smile spread across your face. He stood up as you crossed the room towards him, and he reached out to help you out of your jacket, just to touch you.

He pulled it loose off of your shoulders and bit down on the flesh on the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smiling too wide. “Missed you,” he said softly as he draped your jacket over the back of the chair opposite his. “Do you want a drink, love?”

You smiled, sitting yourself down in the chair he'd pulled out for you. “Please, yeah.”

He gave you another small smile before turning back towards the bar, the same bartender giving him a small nod.

He cleared his throat slightly. Vodka cranberry, please,” he paused for a moment before deciding to get another drink for himself. “And a vodka coke, please.”

He reached behind him into his back pocket and pulled out a few notes from his scuffed leather wallet as the bartender turned to pour the drinks.

He glanced around the bar quickly before asking, his voice more hushed, “Are there any rooms available upstairs? For tonight?”

The bartender looked back at him briefly over her shoulder. “Just for one night?”

He nodded.

She didn't ask any additional questions, just reached below the bar and pulled out a brass key with a wooden fob marked with a 3 in permanent marker. “Thirty for the night, then. Checkout by ten.”

He pulled a few more notes from his wallet and slid them over before tucking it back into his pocket along with the key.

He gave her a half-hearted smile and a muttered thank you before picking up the drinks and turning back towards the table.

He made his way towards you and set your drink in front of you. “Here you are, sweetheart,” he said before sitting down himself with his own drink. “I sorted the room as well.”

The corners of your lips pulled up slightly before you brought the glass to your mouth, the cold bite of the vodka and cranberry filling your mouth and travelling down your throat.

He watched, mesmerised in a way, looking adoringly at your lips pressed to the rim of the glass, the way your throat bobbed when you swallowed, the way your fingers wrapped around the cup.

When you set it back down, he murmured, his eyes dragging down your frame fondly, “What have you been up to today, baby?”

You sighed, swirling the ice around in your drink, the clink ringing in your ears. “I had work earlier.”

His heart stopped for a moment. Work? Did you see someone else? Was he not the only one anymore?

You looked back up at him and saw how his face had dropped. You brushed a few strands of your hair back before saying, “Petrol station. I have another job, I don't just do this.”

You saw a wave of relief pass over his face and he nodded, his dry lips slightly parted as he inhaled deeply. “Yeah, of course, cool. How was that today, then?”

As you started to tell him about your day at work, annoying customers, irritating managers, grueling tasks, his eyes drifted down your body, your curves carrying his gaze like a tide, and they landed on your fingertips, your nails still coloured with the deep, gloomy purple he'd painted for you. They were a little chipped now, a small gap between your cuticle and where the polish began from where your nails had grown, but it still made him smile, his heart fluttering in his chest.

When he looked back up at you, his cheeks lightly reddened, he gazed into your eyes as you continued to chat about your tiring day at work.

He glanced down to his glass, the carbonated bubbles swirling around the top of the dark brown liquid, weaving in and out of between the ice cubes floating in his coke like little islands.

When your ramble came to an end, you took another mouthful of your vodka cranberry, savouring the tart flavour as it embedded itself in your tongue, and you asked, “So, how was yours?”

He took a small deep breath, shaking his hand beside his upper arm with a motion similar to that of a tambourine being played, and he said, his voice coming out more awkward than he'd've liked, “Just, um… was in the car for a while. Drove around for a while. And that's about it.”

“You didn't have work today?”

“Not today, no. Just… a bit of breathing space.”

“Right.”

He brought his glass up to his lips, tilting it and taking a long sip as the sweet, fizzy liquid filled his mouth, chasing it with a gentle burn as he swallowed it down.

He shifted idly in his seat, feeling the key digging into his skin slightly through the denim of his jeans, and he murmured while watching you take a sip of your own drink, “I really missed you, petal.”

His lips quirked up in a small smile, and before you could reply, he added, “I loved our call last night.”

You let out a small huff of laughter through your nostrils, a soft sound that always tugged at the strings of his heart, and you said, your voice sweet, like honey drizzling into his ears, “I'm sorry that I wasn't very awake for it.”

He reached over the table, putting his hand over yours, feeling the soft, smooth, glossy polish on your fingernails against his palm, and he said, his tone full of reassurance, “Don't be sorry, baby. I know you were, and it's fine. As long as you were fine.”

You smiled and nodded once, the warmth of his strong hand enveloping yours. “I was.”

A quiet settled between you, comfortable and laced with ease, while the pub's murmur faded into the background. You both gradually finished your drinks, leaving just the melting ice cubes piled in the bottoms of the glasses, the water they exuded diluting the last dregs of the liquids inside.

He pushed himself up out of the chair with a slight scrunch of his face, his hand coming behind him to his lower back for a moment as he turned, before he picked up all three of the glasses and crossed to room towards the bar again, offering the bartender a little smile as he set them on the beer mat.

He came back over to you as you stood, and he reached behind you to grab your jacket off of the back of your chair before you could, and he draped it over his forearm.

With one hand ghosting lightly over your lower back, he guided you through the narrow hallway to the stairs that led to the second floor, and he let you go up first, gesturing towards the worn-down stairs, each wooden step a lighter shade of brown in the centre from years of being walked on and climbed up.

The click of your boots accompanied the creak that came with ascending the stairs, and he pulled the key from his back pocket, the metal cool against his fingers.

Once you reached the top, he slid past you, anticipation blossoming in his chest as he looked over the handful of doors, each one dark oak with a small sign with a number on mounted in the centre.

He slid the key into room three, twisted and unlocked it, before holding it open for you. You stepped in with a small smile, and he walked in after you, closing the door behind him, before he draped your jacket over the foot of the bed and toed his shoes off, kicking them aside.

His jeans followed, unbuckling his belt with a clink of the metal before he pulled the long strap of leather to one side, tossing it in the same general direction of where his shoes went, before he started on undoing his jeans, pushing the cool metal button through the hole and pulling the zip down with a metallic whir.

He slid his thumbs beneath the waistband and tugged them down his hips, off his ankles, and left them in a pile on the floor, leaving him in just his black boxers which clung to his thighs and ass like a second skin.

You watched as he undressed, your pulse quickening beneath your skin with each garment he shed, and you slipped your own boots off, tucking them neatly beneath the bed. Next came your jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping before pulling the fabric down your legs. They were tight at your thighs and hips but loose and flared at your ankles. You folded your trousers and draped them beside your jacket over the foot of the bed, now only in your underwear and loose t-shirt.

He let his eyes float over you, slow and reverent, drinking you in, and your skin tingled under his gaze. He crossed the small space between you, his hand coming to your waist like gravity, and the soft fabric of your top bunched and creased slightly beneath his touch. He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his pupils wide with adoration as his eyes met yours, and he whispered, “You're so beautiful… my girl.”

He tilted your chin upwards with his hand, his fingertips brushing against your jawline, and he traced your soft lips with his eyes before he leaned in, his eyes fluttering shut as he pressed his mouth to yours.

He pulled you close against him with his hand on your waist, his rough lips a stark contrast to the overwhelming gentle love he always gave you. His mouth moved against yours with patience and control, and his other hand moved from your jaw to the back of your neck, keeping you pressed to him.

You kissed him back, the chapped skin of his lips scraping against yours. There was no frantic urgency, no burning fire. At least, not yet.

He let out a soft whimper, a noise that seemed to escape him without him even realising it was brewing, and the kiss deepened, his nose pressing into your cheek.

When he finally pulled back, it was with a long sigh, and he rested his forehead against yours while his hot breath brushed over your lips.

He smiled, a little out of breath. “Told you I'd give you more kisses, baby.”

The corners of your lips tugged upwards at his words, and he glanced over your shoulder briefly, towards the bed, and he said, his voice low, “Come on. Let's get in.”

He gently helped you under the duvet, making sure you were comfortable, before he climbed in beside you, lying on his side to face you, and he slipped his hand beneath your shirt to feel your soft skin against his hand.

He propped himself up on one elbow, his head in his palm, and he looked down at you like you were the sun, like you were the stars and the moon, like there was nothing else worth even thinking about looking at.

His short fingernails grazed over your belly in soft patterns as his hand trailed over your body, and he said, his voice as soft and as sweet as a marshmallow, “Had a difficult day, didn't you, petal?”

You looked up at him, and you swore his pupils had turned to hearts. You nodded once. “Mhm.”

He trailed his hand lower blindly beneath the thick duvet, but using your body as a guide for his fingers, like following a map for treasure. “Want daddy to make you feel better?”

There it was again, referring to himself as daddy. You didn't question it though, didn't ask, instead, you smiled as you felt his hand gently rub over your thighs, slipping his fingers in between them to part them slightly. “Yeah…”

He rubbed his middle and ring fingers over the soft cotton of your panties, over that tender spot right in the centre, and he rubbed gentle circles over your clit through the fabric.

You let out a small noise, somewhere between a sigh and a moan, and he kissed your cheek. “That feel nice, petal?”

You nodded, and he pressed his face to the side of yours, his lips dragging along your skin as his fingertips rubbed along your clit through your underwear, the gentle friction making your breath stutter in your throat.

Your head tilted back against the pillow, and he took the opportunity to move his mouth to your neck, planting kisses along the side, accompanied by small licks or a light bite every so often.

He felt the dampness against the pads of his fingers through your underwear, and he moaned softly against your neck before he shifted his hand from between your legs, the sudden lack of contact making you frown, until he hooked his thumb beneath the lace trimmed waistband of your panties.

You lifted your hips slightly off the mattress as he gently tugged the fabric down, running his hands over the soft swell of your hips and giving a light squeeze to your ass before he pulled the cotton all the way down your legs until they were loose around your ankles, and you shuffled out of them entirely, losing them somewhere in the sea of the duvet.

He spread your legs a little wider before he slotted his hand right back between them again, the heat radiating from your cunt making his lips curl upwards against your skin.

He gently circled your clit, dipping his fingers lower and gathering some of the dripping wetness that flooded your hole, before tracing them back up and rubbing your clit with the slickness.

You moaned softly, your hand coming up to hold his that wasn't on your pussy, and he squeezed it tightly, reassuringly, interlocking your fingers with his.

He pressed a kiss to your jaw, his eyelashes lightly brushing against your skin, and he murmured, “How many, baby?”

His fingers continued their small, slow circles, and you panted softly, “...Two.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

He lifted his head slightly from the crook of your neck and pressed a kiss to your high cheekbone. “Tell me if it's too much, sweetheart. Or not enough.”

You hummed softly in response, and he dipped his fingers lower again, slowly easing his two fingers inside, and your muscles tightened around them straight away, holding them in.

He hovered his face above yours, looking down into your eyes as he gently slid inside. You let out a soft, airy sigh, the noise trickling into a whimper towards the end of your breath, and he pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose.

Your eyes flickered shut for a moment as he fed his fingers deeper, centimetre by centimetre, but you opened them again when he murmured, his hot breath fanning over your cheeks, “Look at me, baby…”

When he finally pushed them to the hilt, his palm pressing against your clit, he squeezed your hand with his free one, keeping you in the moment with him, and you moaned under your breath, “Daddy…”

“That's it… you gonna take them deep for me?” he whispered. “You're being such a good girl…”

His thumb brushed against that aching spot just above where his fingers were buried deep, tantalisingly teasing, and he began to gently pump his fingers in and out, curling and bending his knuckles against the ridges of your walls.

You whined, pressing your lips together tightly before they parted, letting out a long sigh. You did your best to keep your eyes on his as he coaxed you through it above you, but with the gentle rubbing from the pad of his thumb on your clit and the slow twisting and thrusting of his fingers inside of you, it proved very difficult.

He pressed his lips to yours, swallowing your moans and whimpers before you could voice them, and he kept up the pace of his fingers inside you, his own centre pulsing, twitching, straining against the tight jail of his cotton boxer shorts.

He felt your walls throb around him and he smiled against your mouth, taking your lower lip between his teeth and tugging gently before releasing it, just slightly reddened ghosts of a teeth indent remaining.

He kept your eyes locked on his, whispering your name whenever they fluttered shut if he curled his fingers a little too tightly or pressed a little too hard on your tingling clit.

His fingers moved with a purpose, now drenched with the slick that proved how strong your desire was, how badly you wanted this, how much you needed him. Your legs twitched as he plunged deeper, the pads of his fingers insistently pressing on that spongy spot nestled deep inside you.

“So pretty…” he whispered, his voice thick with lust no matter how quiet he made it, how low he dimmed it. “My pretty girl, aren't ya?”

You nodded, your lips parting and eyes widening slightly as he circled your g-spot in time with his movements on your clit, and you bit back a cry, your throat tightening around the noise before it was able to escape.

“Say it,” he murmured, voice husky and gruff.

“I'm- I'm daddy's pretty girl…” you stammered, voice hoarse and trembling from the intense sensations and pleasure.

“Yeah…” he muttered, lowering his head and pressing his lips to your cheek once more.

Your hips rolled up into his hand unconsciously, chasing the build up, chasing the climax, starving and greedy for any ounce of friction.

His lips lowered to your shoulder, planting open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone, sucking gently with every other press of his mouth against your skin.

You felt his length brush against your thigh, the heat scorching to the touch even through his boxers, and a choked moan came from your throat, a kind of sound you didn't even know you could make, and you promptly bit down harshly on your bottom lip to quiet yourself.

He felt the walls of your cunt fluttering and tightening around his fingers, and he smirked against your shoulder, licking a small stripe from the base of your neck up to the back of your ear, leaving a trail of faint sheen in his wake, and he whispered, nibbling on your lobe, “You gonna cum for me, petal?”

You whimpered, desperate and broken, and he smiled, licking his lips before it morphed into a grin, and he murmured, “Let go for daddy, baby. Come on.”

His coaxing words pushed you over the edge, and with a final press of his fingertips on your g-spot, a final flick of his thumb on your clit, you came. Your legs quivered, core tensed up and moans spilled from your mouth uncontrollable, babbling daddy for him, and he watched your face as the waves washed over you, slowing down but not stopping his hand movements.

He guided you through it as it tore through you, fast and hot, squeezing your hand and kissing your forehead while his fingers continued to move in slow, curling strokes inside of you, easing you down from the high.

“You did so good for me…” he whispered, his voice laced with pride, with love, and he gradually stopped the torturous movements of his fingers, leaving you breathless beneath him, spent, boneless, and twitching.

He pulled his fingers from you with utmost care, and he rested that hand on your stomach on top of your soft shirt, leaving a small patch of wetness on the fabric.

He didn't say anything at first, just dotted a few more kisses across your skin, on your forehead, your shoulder, your jaw. He gently stroked his thumb against your hand that was interlocked with his, helping you come down from your climax.

“You alright, sweetheart?” he asked quietly, his voice rough but doused in adoration.

You nodded, and he lay back, his head beside yours on the pillow, and he took his hand that had been inside you back, wiping the wetness off on his shirt. His eyes were fixed on a crack in the ceiling above, tracing it like it was fine art, and that's when it came. Like it always did, the words he'd been bottling up for a few days, waiting to be spilled in the safety of the silence he shared with you after the intimacy.

“This morning,” he began. “She got into bed with me. I told you, she fell asleep on the couch last night, but when I woke up, I felt her hand on my waist.”

You turned your head slightly, your chin nudging against his shoulder as he continued.

“She never does that. Well, I mean… I was sleeping in that bed alone for months, but every so often, for the past couple of weeks, she's been coming in and curling up like nothing's wrong, like we're all okay.”

He shook his head at the thought, his hair bouncing lightly under his movements. “It made my skin crawl. I felt… itchy. I don't know. It felt awful.”

You stayed quiet, just listened, like always. He never needed advice, just needed somewhere to store the ache, someone to listen, and that someone had become you.

“It's been like that recently, though. She's just been being… nice. Overly nice. It's never really been shouty, but… she's been trying to act like she used to. Like when we got married, when we were still good. But I can tell it's fake, that she's forcing it, and it makes me feel ill.”

There was a touch of venom running through his tone now as he drummed his agitated fingers against the mattress.

“She asked if I wanted to go out for a drink with her. Tonight. But she didn't seem too disappointed when I said no.”

Something inside you ached for him, either your brain or your heart, and you pursed your lips, contemplating for a moment, before you decided to say something, your voice soft as you spoke carefully.

“Maybe she's cheating on you too.”

He stilled, you felt his body tense up and stiffen against yours, and you regretted even opening your mouth, but that didn't stop the words coming.

“I've seen people do it. People get nicer when they're hiding things, it makes them feel less guilty. Like if they do enough nice things, it cancels out the bad.”

You turned to look at him. You'd made a mistake. But still, you added quietly, “Maybe she's got someone too. Someone she fancies.” you let out a small, awkward, self-deprecating laugh as you said, “Maybe she's got a sex worker too.”

The air froze cold.

He sat up slowly, his face unreadable in the dim light, but his jaw was clenched, his face hard. You'd never seen him look at anyone like that, letting alone look at you like that.

“Don't,” he spat sharply.

You blinked. “I didn't mean-”

“I said, don't.”

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood, grabbing his jeans from where he'd left them in a pile on the floor. The silence that fermented between you was loud enough to deafen.

“You don't get to say that,” he muttered mostly to himself as he tugged his trousers up to his hips, doing them up with more force than needed. “You don't know her. You don't know what she's like.”

You swallowed, the guilt mixed with confusion clawing at the backs of your eyes and constricting around your throat. “I was just trying to help-”

“Yeah?” he snapped, raising his voice. “Well, you fuckin’ didn't. Jesus Christ.”

You sat up, propping yourself up with your hands behind you on the mattress, your heart pounding and stomach clenching.

“She's not you,” he said, bitterness flooding his tone. “So don't pretend you understand her.”

He shoved on his shoes and picked up his belt before reaching into his back pocket, ripping out the brass key and wooden fob before throwing it on the bed. “There's the fuckin’ key. Now you can fuck off.”

Then, without another word, he slammed the door shut behind him hard enough to make the wooden frame rattle.

You sat there in the bed, heart aching, stomach hollow, like your organs had just been brutally ripped out, but your skin was still warm, still tingly from where he'd touched you just moments before you'd made the mistake of speaking.

The room was quiet. Far too quiet. Save for the occasional round of laughter or clink of glasses from the bar downstairs, it was uncomfortably silent. Your shirt clung to your skin, and your eyes drifted down to the key he'd chucked on the bed, and it made you wonder what exactly you said that made him so angry.

Because he was cheating, wasn't he? He was a married man constantly and consistently sleeping with another woman. So why did he get so offended when you proposed the idea that maybe, maybe, his wife was cheating too?

You lay yourself back down flat on the bed, head in the pillow with your hair sprawled out, and your eyes blurred as you thought to yourself about why. Why did you have to speak? Why did you have to break the unspoken rule between you, where he talks and you listen?

You weren't meant to analyse. Not out loud, at least. It wasn't what he wanted to hear. You were his escape.

You pulled the duvet up higher, every breath of air you inhaled choking you on the way in. The hollow had settled inside your chest, spreading and infecting like rot, like burning poison.

You didn't cry yet, though your eyes stung in the corners with the need to. You just lay there in the stale air, breathing in the scent of him on the sheets, the once comforting smell now making your stomach twist, wishing you could go back a few minutes, wishing you'd've just stayed quiet.

The loud noise of a woman laughing downstairs echoed up through the floorboards, the cackle cutting through the quiet, and you looked down at your hands. Trembling. You let the silence swallow you whole, the guilt pressing heavy on your ribs with each breath you dared to take.

He'd never gotten angry at you before, and you didn't know if he was going to come back.

He drove fast, almost too fast. Just barely under the speed limit. He gritted his teeth, his fingers clutching the steering wheel with a force that bleached his knuckles white. Your words circled in his brain like a toy train.

“Maybe she's cheating too.”

His brow furrowed, wrinkles creasing lines across his forehead as he scowled. You didn't know anything about her. Sure, he'd endlessly complained to you about her, but that didn't give you the right to say something like that. To intrude on his life in that way.

And yet you'd dared to say it, dared to say it so casually as if it was just a fleeting thought. As if it was just a simple observation.

The city blurred past his window, the street lights smearing across the glass. The car felt too hot and too cold at the same time, but he didn't care. He wanted to sweat, and he wanted to shiver. He wanted to give his brain something to focus on other than the churning in his gut.

When he pulled into his driveway, the house was dark. No bedroom, living room or bathroom lights illuminating the windows. Her car wasn't even in the drive.

She wasn't home, and it made his chest tighten.

He got out of his car and slammed the door shut with more force than necessary, the loud thud echoing through the otherwise silent, still street, and he fumbled with his keys in his pocket as he trudged over to the front door, cursing under his breath before he unlocked the door and let himself in.

It was silent. Silent in all of his senses, except for one. No lingering smell of dinner, no sound of the television, no lights on in the house, no warmth enveloping his body from the radiator. But there was one thing he could sense.

As he parted his lips to inhale for a deeper breath in, he tasted it. The chemically burn of her perfume hit the back of his throat as he yawned, making him cough and sputter in retaliation.

His tongue poked out and swiped along his lower lip, wetting it as he dropped his keys onto the entryway table with a clatter. Maybe she'd gone out with her friends. He'd said no to her asking him to go out that night, so maybe she'd gone for a drink with her girls instead. For an end of week wind down, a gossip.

He dragged a hand down over his face, his hair ruffled, his stubble scruffy and his eyes still stormy.

He moved into the kitchen with heavy steps, the burden of the night weighing him down. The kitchen floor was cold under his feet, and he didn't flick the light on. The moonlight that seeped in through the window was enough for him to guide him to the liquor cupboard.

He swung open the door to the cabinet, reaching straight for the back where he knew the vodka was. It wasn't open. It was one of the expensive ones that she insisted they save for a special occasion that never seemed to come.

He cracked the seal after a few tries, his sweaty hands making it difficult for him to grip the cap properly, before he grabbed a shot glass and set it on the countertop with a dull clink. He poured it in, right up to the top, and he downed it. He hissed quietly as it burned down his throat before wiping his lips with the back of his hand, a thin streak of the clear liquid glistening slightly in the pale light of the moon, before he poured himself a second one.

He felt warm, both from the alcohol and the leftover rage. The words still echoed in his mind, over and over again.

“Maybe she's cheating too.”

He swallowed the second shot without much more than a quiver of his shoulders, much easier than the first one.

How dare you suggest that, as if you knew. As if you knew anything about the problems that came with being an adult. You were still a teenager, just barely out of your childhood years, and there you were, trying to act like you could and knew how to psychoanalyse his own wife.

The third shot hit harder, burned hotter, and he braced his hands against the counter as it settled in his chest, simmering down into his belly.

He didn't feel sorry for you. You'd overstepped, and you'd hurt him by doing so. He had a right to be angry, or so he told himself.

He left the small glass on the counter, not bothering to put the bottle away either. He barely managed to will himself into putting the cap back on.

He dragged himself upstairs, his body much heavier than it had been half an hour ago, and he stumbled into his bedroom. The room was cold, almost sterile, in a way.

He lay down, fully clothed, even his shoes still on his feet, and he stared up at the ceiling, his breath reeking of vodka with each exhale.

Something aching gnawed at the edges and backs of his eyes, something he recognised but didn't want to admit to himself that it was what he was feeling. Guilt. It stung him uncomfortably, but it was the truth that he wasn't ready to look at yet.

You hadn't moved, not really. You'd tucked your legs up to your chest, lay like a fetus, but that was about it. The tears that were gathered in the corners of your eyes threatened to spill at any given moment, the blur obstructing your vision, so you opted for closing your eyes completely.

God, you should've just kept your mouth shut.

It wasn't your place, and you knew that.

The guilt chewed on your insides with its rotten, razor-sharp teeth. It felt like your organs were bruising.

At some point, the weight of it all became too much, settling in your stomach in a way that felt like you'd eaten your body weight in wet concrete, and now it was drying inside you. The endless pit in your stomach somehow deepened, the ache in your chest persisted, and the silent throb of being wrong in your body continued.

Sleep didn't come gently, though. It didn't approach, it dragged, ruthless and raw in its determination to make you miserable in your last moments conscious before finally letting you succumb to the all-consuming exhaustion.

Weeks passed like slow healing bruises.

Christmas came and went, but it didn't feel like anything. Nothing special, anyway. You didn't have anyone to spend it with. No family, no friends, just you behind the dingy till of the dodgy petrol station, fluorescent overhead lights buzzing as they blinded you with their harshness.

He didn't come back that night. Not to you or to the hotel. He didn't text you, not once. Instead, he spent more of his time with her.

You saw them once, twice, maybe three times, walking through town together, all bundled up for the cold. He wore a stupid bobble hat, a colourful scarf and mittens, holding a takeaway coffee cup in his hand while he carried shopping bags in the other. She wore a long, black puffy coat, mittens, and the same stupid looking wooly bobble hat.

He didn't see you, or he pretended not to. Either way, it felt like a punch to the gut.

New Year's Day passed by without even so much as a flicker of change. It just felt like another day to you, or what just another day had come to feel like for you. Even when the fireworks cracked through the air as midnight struck, it didn't feel any different.

But what did feel different was a certain day, a little less than a week after New Year's. The sixth of January. His birthday. His thirty-ninth birthday.

You remembered it from the moment you opened your eyes on the morning of, and it wilted like a fading bruise in your heart. Soft, sore, tender and inescapable.

You thought about texting him, just a simple happy birthday, maybe accompanied by an emoji, a heart or a smiley face, but you ultimately decided against it. You didn't want to shatter anything else anymore than it already was.

He woke up in a mood that he couldn't shake all day. Tight-chested and short-tempered. It had been building up for the past couple of weeks or so, and he'd tried to blame it on everything except what he knew it was. Chalking it up to the weather, the cold days and sludgy snow, or the pressure of ageing, the aching joints and heightened exhaustion, or the ache in his jaw from how he'd been clenching it all night, every night, due to the pent-up tension and irritation he'd been refusing to let blow off.

But deep down, a part of him knew what it really was. It was you. Or rather, the absence of you.

He hadn't seen you in weeks, not since he'd shouted at you and abandoned you in that hotel room alone. He thought putting distance between you two would fix it, would fix him, mend the breaks and cracks that he knew only you could, even if you didn't do anything physical. Being close to you was his medicine.

That night, his wife booked a meal at a fancy restaurant for dinner, saying she wanted him to feel special. She wore a slim red dress, the hem ending at her mid-thigh, the kind of thing she only wore once in a blue moon, and she curled her hair and coloured her lips in a shimmery crimson lipstick.

He wore a soft white dress shirt that was just a little bit too big for him, and his black tailored suit trousers. He only loosely wrapped a black tie around his neck when she told him he looked too casual.

He barely tasted the food, all of the flavours merging into one as he blocked out her rambling from across the table. The expensive wine tasted so bland to him, it may as well have been water.

Because all he could think about was you.

The meal ended with a bitter tiramisu he barely touched, followed by a quiet drive home, save for her soft humming to some cheesy romantic ballad playing on the radio. She had one hand resting on his thigh, fingers brushing against the linen of his trousers, but the moment she parked the car, he climbed out and stepped inside, letting himself in without waiting for her, without even holding the door open.

When she came in after him, she slipped off her heels quietly and tucked them beneath the entryway table with a soft click as they tapped against the floor once more, and she mumbled some complaint about her feet hurting. It made him scowl.

She made her way into the living room and curled up beneath a soft blanket in the corner of the couch, and when he stepped into the doorframe, she extended her arm towards him. “Come here, birthday boy.”

He pressed his tongue against the side of his inner cheek before sucking his teeth. He opened his mouth again with a pop as he said, “I think I'm gonna go see the lads for a bit now.”

She frowned. “Tonight?”

“Yeah. Haven't seen them for a while.”

“But it's late, Al. And it's your birthday.”

“Exactly,” he replied, pushing himself off of the doorway and moving back to the entry hallway. “I'll be back later.”

He yanked his tie loose from around his neck and hung it on the front door handle before pulling it open, stepping out and closing it behind him, undoing the top few buttons of his shirt as he quickly made his way to his car.

He hardly realised what exactly he was doing until he was halfway across the city, but he knew exactly where he was going, exactly which corners to turn and which roads to follow.

He'd dropped you off more times than he could count, always waiting for you to turn around a final time and give him that small smile and wave before he allowed himself to leave. He'd never been up, never even asked, but he could recognise the street name and the  winding of the roads that led up to it from a mile away.

When he parked, he sat there for a moment, the flickering street light reflecting off of his windshield, and it hit him. How much he missed you, how much he needed to see you again.

He stumbled out of his car, shut the door softly and made his way towards the opening of the block of flats. The lights inside were somehow even harsher than the street lights outside, but he climbed the first set of steep stairs, then the second, then the third before he stood in front of your door.

He took a deep breath, his heart weighing heavy in his chest, and he brought his hand up to knock. Just a couple short hits of his knuckles against the white door, the paint peeling off in more places than one.

When the first knock echoed through your flat, you barely blinked. It was far too late for anyone decent to be turning up at your door.

You were lay on your tattered old settee, knees hugged to your chest with an equally tattered blanket, held together by a few strings and hopes and dreams.

You hadn't even bothered to properly get dressed, just in a soft, worn t-shirt with holes and tears scattered around the collar, a pair of shorts you'd owned since you were fifteen, and mismatched socks with rips at the toes.

Your hair was a mess, every single strand going in a different direction. You looked tired.

When the knock came again, firmer, more insistent this time, you sighed and dragged yourself up, half-expecting it to be your landlord coming to evict you over a bill that was three months overdue.

But when you unlocked the door and swung it open with a cool draft, there he was. Alex. In the clothes he must've worn out to dinner, you assumed, and the moment his eyes met yours, he opened his mouth, and what came out was low and hoarse.

“I'm sorry.”

That was it. No excessive speech, no frantic excuses, no dramatic explanation. Just a word that sounded light, but felt like it carried the weight of the world.

You didn't say anything at first, just stepped aside to let him in, your shirt swaying slightly around your torso.

He stepped inside slowly, almost sheepish, tentative, and he glanced around quickly before settling his gaze back on you. His hands fidgeted in front of him as you closed the door with a click, and he bit the inside of his cheek.

“I'm- I shouldn't have-” he started, the words spilling out faster than he could structure them properly. “I was… I was really wrong that night. I know I was. I just… I was just angry. Not at you, not… not really. I just-” he stopped himself. “I'm sorry.”

You nodded, your lips slightly pursed, and you swallowed the lump in your throat, making room for the words to come out. “I'm sorry too,” you whispered. “It wasn't my place to say what I said.”

He looked at you properly, his eyes drifting over every crevice of your face, studying the details in a different light, and he slowly, cautiously took a step forward, and his hand rose to cup your cheek in his palm. His eyes searched yours for any sign of hesitation, any hint of doubt, but when you didn't pull back, when your lips parted just a little and the breath caught in your throat, he leaned in.

He pressed his lips to yours, your mouths fitting together like two puzzle pieces destined to be slotted together.

He gently sucked on your lower lip before tugging on your top one with his teeth, and he cupped the back of your head as you moved together, in perfect harmony.

When he pulled back, it was only by a breath, and he stroked your cheek with his thumb, gazing into your eyes like they were the only thing keeping him sane, and in a way, they were.

Your fingers gripped the front of his open shirt, clinging to him, your fingertips brushing against the soft hairs beneath it. “I missed you,” he murmured. “So fucking much.”

You swallowed, and before you could reply, reciprocate, his lips were on yours again, his tongue licking along your lower lip, tracing it like he was marking out a secret pass code to gain access, and you parted your lips slightly, letting his tongue invade your mouth. He licked along your tongue, along the sides of your teeth and tracing patterns on the insides of your cheeks.

When he pulled back again, his lips were wrapped around the tip of your tongue, and he released it before pressing his forehead to yours, his hands bracing on either side of your face.

“I don't know why I thought it would work. Trying to move on, I mean. You mean so much to me, petal.”

You felt your heart thud, and you were sure it was audible to him. “I missed you too.”

One hand gently travelled down your body, over your ribcage, your waist and your hips, down to your thigh, and he rested it there, thumb gently stroking the soft skin.

You pulled back just enough to look at him properly, but not enough to break contact, the tips of your noses still lightly touching, and you said, “Do you… wanna go to my bedroom?”

The corners of his mouth twitched, not exactly a smile, but far from a frown. He nodded a little, just once. “Yeah,” he said softly. “Yeah, I do.”

You nodded as well, a gentle smile playing on your lips, and you held his hand as you led him down the short hallway to your bedroom. Your flat was cluttered, a little messy, quite small, but it was yours. It was lived in, it was homey, it was cosy.

You pushed the door open with a squeak of the hinges and he stepped in after you, his hand slipping from your grip as you let go to pull your torn socks off.

The bed wasn't made, there were some clothes strewn across the floor, and there was a candle on the bedside table with a deep tunnel running down the middle from where you'd been too preoccupied with something else to scrape the wax off of the sides.

But none of that mattered to him. He was hyper focused, and only focused, on you. You climbed onto your bed, the mattress dipping beneath you, and you pulled the duvet up over your body, making his heart stutter.

He quickly worked on undoing his linen suit trousers, tugging them down his legs and nearly tripping over them as they pooled around his ankles in the midst of his desperation to get them off.

He burrowed into your bed beside you, faint, light hairs dusting over his thighs and brushing against your skin as he nestled into you, his lips finding your forehead as if you were a magnet.

He propped himself up above you with one hand, the sheets creasing beneath the weight, and he used his other to hook beneath the waistband of his boxers, tugging them down to his knees before lifting them one at a time to yank them down his calves and tossing them off of the bed.

He settled himself between your legs as you lay on your back before him, his cock hot and throbbing, twitching slightly as he rubbed his hands over your thighs, down your legs, and over the soles of your feet, and his length wagged slightly as he shuffled closer.

You let him maneuver and shift your legs however he pleased, and he brought one of your feet to his face and pressed his nose to the ball of your foot, breathing in slowly as his eyes fluttered shut, taking it in completely.

He rubbed his thumb over the arch before he set it back down, his reverent hands returning to your thighs.

He glanced up at you, meeting your gentle eyes, and for a moment, he felt a little embarrassed by what he wanted to ask.

“Will you, um… can you touch me with your feet?”

You smiled. You knew it wouldn't be long before he asked you for something as full on as that. You nodded, and murmured, “Of course.”

He took a deep breath, his face flushing as he tried to hide how much it turned him on behind a bitten lip and half-lidded eyes.

He guided your feet towards his aching cock, and he moaned, half-cry, half-whine, as soon as your toes just barely grazed over the sensitive skin of his shaft. He muttered a half-hearted apology, barely able to keep himself together as you stroked him with your soles, and he closed his eyes, knowing he wouldn't be able to last for more than a few seconds if he caught sight of your feet perched so beautifully around his dick.

He blindly held your ankle for something to ground him, to keep him from completely losing it, while you moved with ease, with grace, your arches cradling him like his shaft was something to be worshipped.

You smeared the precum that had beaded at the tip down over and along his cock, all the way down to the base where his wiry pubes lightly scratched and tickled your toes.

He exhaled sharply, a slight quiver underlying beneath the breath, and he forced his gaze downward, down to where your feet were wrapped around him, and his whole body jolted.

His thighs stiffened and his hips jerked forwards. You could have almost felt the surge of desperation shot through him.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his hands sliding up your legs, up to your knees and gripping tightly. “Stop, baby, stop…”

You stilled instantly, your eyes flickering up to look at him with a slight hint of confusion. “You okay?”

He breathed heavily, his chest that peeked through the open front of his shirt flushed, and his cock twitched and pulsed helplessly against your ankles. “Yeah…” he panted, peeling his eyes away from your feet. “Just… I don't want it to be over so soon.”

You nodded once, moving your feet away from his throbbing, dribbling shaft, and his fingers trailed along the soft backs of your thighs, before he hooked his fingers beneath the waistband of both your pyjama shorts and your panties, sliding them both down your legs at the same time with knew fluid motion. The air of your bedroom was cool against your newly exposed parts, but they were quickly heated up again by his fiery gaze.

You lifted your head up slightly, turning it towards your bedside table, and you reached over, tugging the drawer open before reaching in and grabbing a loose condom, still in the wrapper, that had fallen out of the small but battered little cardboard box they'd come in.

He took it with a gentle smile, before tearing the packet open and rolling it down his sensitive length with a small sigh.

He then leaned forward and pushed your shirt up until your chest was bare, your nipple tightened into small points, and the fabric bunched beneath your arms. He gently traced down your sides with his hands, loving and soft, before he gently pushed your legs up, one, then the other, placing them over his shoulders, the intimate shift bringing your bodies impossibly close.

His nose nudged yours, his face hovering just above yours while his cock brushed against your inner thighs, ghosting just over the spot where you craved him the most.

His hands came up to cradle your face, thumbs gently stroking your cheekbones, his palms warm against your skin.

“You're so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, thought his voice was gravelly and thick with the sheet weight of his desire.

You swallowed, barely breathing, your chest rising and falling against his, and he slowly rocked his hips as he adjusted his position, getting ready to slide in.

His grip on your face slightly faltered for a moment as he lined himself up, trying not to groan at just the thought of being inside of you.

He pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth and whispered, “Breathe in for me, petal…”

You did as he said, slow and steady, filling your lungs with the air that had likely already made its way around his body, just from how close your mouths were.

Then, with another subtle twitch of his hips, he slid inside slowly, carefully feeding every inch into your warm, welcoming cunt as it took him in, dousing him in slickness.

He moaned, the sound like a drug to your ears, and he continued his gradual, measured thrust inwards, stretching you with every inch that your pussy gratefully took in until your thighs trembled on his shoulders.

“There we go…” he cooed reassuringly as he finally reached the hilt, his thick cock nestled inside you like it belonged there. “There's my good girl…”

His hands didn't leave your face once, making sure you kept his gaze the entire time while he filled you, his thumbs brushing your temples.

“Being so good for me… fuck…” he crooned, his low hum faltering slightly as your walls squeezed him, pulling him deeper and holding him in. “Just like that.”

You whimpered something unintelligible, your voice quivering as he rocked his hips gently, filling you even more, helping you take even more of him.

“You feel so good… so warm and wet… I could stay in here forever,” he murmured, brushing a few of your stray hairs back with his knuckles.

His hips began to move, a slow, gentle roll as he eased you into it despite how many times you'd taken him by now. Each thrust was deliberate, careful, purposeful, and deep, and he held back the slight tremble in his thighs as he plunged further in.

His face scrunched up a little bit above yours, and he whispered, his tone bordering on a whine, “So fucking good…”

You whimpered in response, your walls fluttering around his girth, and you reached up, clutching at his shoulders, his neck, the collar of his shirt, just anything you could hold onto to anchor yourself.

“I know, sweetheart…” he murmured, his words sifting into your ears like sugar. “I know it's a lot. But you feel so good… taking me so deep…”

He was already close, you could feel it from the tenseness in his shoulders and the twitch of his shaft inside of you as his latex-covered tip kissed your cervix with each thrust.

“Squeezin’ me so tight…” he drawled, his tone dripping with sweetness like syrup. He nuzzled his nose against yours, fighting the urge to squeeze his eyes tightly shut and completely lose control over his body. “You're gonna make me cum…”

You kept your eyes on his, your gaze devastatingly heart-aching as you nodded, and he whispered encouragingly, “Yeah? You gonna cum too, baby?”

You nodded, your nose brushing against his as you moved your head, and he kissed your cheek, your forehead, your chin and your mouth, his hips still rolling into yours.

“You can let go, sweetheart. I'll be right there with you…” he cooed, coaxing. “Right there…”

And just like that, with your legs shaking over his shoulders and a daddy catching in your throat and spilling out somewhere between a gasp and a sob, you did.

You felt the muscles of your pussy spasm and contract around his length as you climaxed, your lower lip quivering from the intensity while you let out a long string of unintelligible curses.

He followed seconds later, his chest pressed tightly against yours as he spilled into the condom with a low, shuddering groan in your ear followed by a seemingly endless murmur of praises as he ground his hips into yours, riding out his high while prolonging yours.

He pressed his forehead against yours, squeezing his eyes shut tightly, and for a few moments, you both reveled in the comforting silence, punctuated by panting and the occasional whimper as he softened inside of you.

He pulled out slowly, his wide tip dragging along the sensitive ridges of your inner walls. He pulled the condom off, making an attempt to tie it once, then twice, before finally succeeding on the third attempt, and he lazily reached over and set it on your night stand.

He gathered you into his arms without another thought, your body still humming with the aftershocks of your gentle orgasm, and he peppered a few soft, loving kisses across your face, his stubble lightly scraping your soft skin.

For a long, tender while, neither of you spoke, letting the warmth of the silence envelop the two of you like an all-consuming cuddle, the only audible sound being the slow rise and fall of your chests as your breathing grew softer and slower as you came down.

You tilted your head up towards him, studying his face where time and age had left their marks, and your voice came, soft, barely breathless, and just above a whisper, “Happy birthday.”

He exhaled, his lips quirking up at your words before he looked down at you, his eyes reflecting a flicker of gratitude. “Thank you.”

He tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear before kissing the top of your head, his lips firm as he pressed them down, before the quiet took over again, holding you both in its calming embrace.

｡･:*:･ﾟ༓･*˚⁺‧͙ﾟ+..｡*ﾟ+˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚₊✩｡˚☽

can i post my art on here some time? im only asking because they wont be alex or am related, i havent even drawn him in a while but ive been making a few attempts again recently. it's just because drawing has been feeling like a chore recently because i have to do it all the time for work and i miss just doing it for fun. on a different note, thank you @crowpill3d ive used about five different ideas in this that you inspired. love ya x

[starseungs]

take a shot. ksm.

kim seungmin x fem!reader — it really shouldn't take a genius to figure out that you and your co-star didn't get along. you knew kim seungmin. you knew how life functioned despite the cameras. and you knew that it was harder to keep a good shot hidden than it was to delete a bad one.

genre/s — drama, angst, fluff, a sprinkle of comedy, actors au, enemies to lovers, slowburn • 19.4k words

warning/s — y/n gets referred to with she/her pronouns, profanity, implied death taken lightly (humor purposes), miscommunication to too much communication, y/n easily gets into a bad headspace, inaccurate depictions of filming a movie, the angst is strong = the fluff is strong, other idols are mentioned as characters along with skz members, mentions of alcohol in a scene

note — my longest fic yet !! it also took me so long to finish this (like three weeks i believe) and there were some struggles that happened in the making of this, but it turned out to be my most favorite work ive done ever. thank you for the people who patiently waited for this since the teaser, and remember that reblogs & feedbacks are greatly appreciated 🫶 i hope you enjoy the read !!

2024 ⓒ starseungs on tumblr. do not steal, repost, or edit.

00 : ZERO.

“I’m sorry, what?”

The car remained silent despite your words of confusion. You felt as though your world had come to an extreme halt, giving you a whiplash as the buzz of the road outside continued to pierce through your ears. There was nothing else to keep your mind away from the absolute bomb of news that was just given to you; your manager had turned it down before uttering the horrid sentence that brought your untimely demise.

The car may have kept on with its task of moving forward—but you were stuck frozen in place.

“You’re joking.”

Your world fell on seemingly deaf ears. The man up front, steering the wheel, rendered himself mute to your growing distress, finding the busy traffic of city life interesting enough to keep his eyes glued. But the urban chaos didn’t distract you one bit from brewing a storm of gunpowder inside your throat.

And just like that, a ghost of a click was heard.

“No—please tell me you’re joking,” you voiced out, tone betraying your attempts at keeping things respectful. It soon came to your attention that the effort was of no use, as your manager still chose to keep his peace. “Changbin!”

The car swiveled a bit off-lane for a second before returning to its correct course. Normally, such an abrupt action by a vehicle would concern you, as you would argue that you were still much too young to suffer at the hands of a road accident, but no such thoughts even made their way into your brain. Just like how time had stopped for you, there was no time for debating over survival either. One life-or-death situation was already enough for you.

You wanted answers, and you were going to get them.

Changbin exhaled audibly from the scare he just put both of you through. His hands shook with a slight tremor, and that was all it took for him to decide that pulling over to the nearest parking area was for the best.

“Don’t yell in the car like that!” You scoffed at his scolding, finding the whole situation ironic.

“Oh, so you can do it all the time, but I can’t?” You shot back. Changbin sighed tiredly, finally registering the extent of your agitation. "Plus, I have a perfectly good reason why I’m yelling!”

“Listen, Y/N, it’s really not that bad—”

“Yes, it is that bad!” The words spill out of your mouth in utter disbelief at his attempts at assurance. “I’m working with Kim Seungmin, of all people!”

“And that’s why it’d be fine!” Changbin argued, running a hand through his already tousled hair. You blinked at his reply, baffled by the sheer implication.

“—How?”

Changbin clicked his tongue at the question, finding it hard to digest just why you were so against working with the mentioned actor. With the mere sound of that actor’s name spat out of your mouth, one would think that he had somehow managed to offend your entire bloodline. But that kind of bitterness could only be achieved through a sour history, so you really couldn’t empathize with your manager’s mindset either.

Even you knew that this movie would be enormously successful from the director alone. Director Han Jisung’s influence and presence in the industry were not a laughing matter—in fact, you should already be trembling in anxiety just knowing that you snagged probably the biggest role you’d ever get in your whole career. He was only around the same age as you, but the winding list of his achievements was already one for the records. And yet, here you were rethinking your contract with him even before the project started.

Just because of who you were going to be acting alongside with.

“Seungmin is a nice person,” Changbin explained gently like he was coaxing a child, intentionally ignoring the way your face scrunched up at what he said. “I did my research, ok? Everyone only has high praises for him, both on and off-set. Isn’t that enough to be trusted?”

You bit your tongue to stop yourself from digging a deeper hole to lie in. The answer was no—it wasn’t enough to be trusted. Now, at this point, someone would’ve had half a mind to ask why you were so sure about your vendetta against the man. If a person was so well loved in a world where cameras were pointed at them in every waking minute, then shouldn’t all the dirt be found by now, if there was any?

To that, your answer would be yet another no.

Because you knew Kim Seungmin. You knew how life functioned despite the cameras. And you knew that it was harder to keep a good shot hidden than it was to delete a bad one.

“Turn the car around.”

Changbin’s eyes almost popped out of their sockets at your demand. Surely, he had heard you now. You crossed your arms and leaned back to rest comfortably on the car seat, turning your head to face the window and glare at the world outside, continuing on with their lives like a well-followed routine.

“Y/N, this is a big opportunity—”

“I said, turn the car around. I’m not attending this cursed table reading.” You pinched the bridge of your nose to keep the incoming migraine at bay.

“You really think I’ll willingly step into a room with the devil’s incarnate? I’d rather get shot—”

01 : ONE.

“—sensing a great shot!”

Director Han Jisung nodded positively at your performance, satisfied with your initial portrayal of the female lead.

“If we keep going like this, then I’m expecting this project to be a big hit. The casting team really did their pay’s worth on this one,” the young director hummed. “Especially you, Actor Kim Seungmin. I don’t know how they managed to get through your company's walls, but I’m glad they did. You’re perfect for the role!”

You felt your eye twitch as the figure bearing the name appeared within your vision. His mouth curled up into an arrogant smirk, hastily covered up by a bashful smile. You cringed at his actions that only you seemed to see. Why was this prick acting all humble?

“Ah, I always wanted to act in one of your films, Director Han. This is more of an amazing opportunity for me than you, honestly.”

That smoothed honey voice wrapped itself around the room’s premise, charming everyone around like it was coming from an alluring siren. All except you.

Your mouth filled with a coating of spite as his next sentence echoed through your ears. His eyes locked you in as a target, a wordless challenge shooting straight at your own.

“Plus, seeing who my co-star is, I’m quite thrilled to see the end product,” Seungmin grinned with a manic glint.

Fuck. You should’ve turned that damned car around yourself. Maybe then you’d be enjoying a relaxing time in the tub, surrounded by bubbling suds of fragrant soap, instead of being a frontliner in this mental war your acting counterpart seemed to subject yourselves to. Now, you had to withstand the feeling of your body instantly going on auto-pilot after his words.

It was commendable, really—how Seungmin could take over a space of this size filled with various types of people so easily. He had major talent in that field, which greatly accentuated his acting power. Seungmin had a way with words, and while you would never be caught praising him out loud, you couldn’t help but acknowledge the bitter truth deep inside the darkest parts of your brain. It was almost obsessive, the way your mind zeroed in on his presence. Even as you let the busy table chatter away into a buzzing noise that barely made its way coherently through your ears, your eyes stayed glued to the figure in front of you, carefully studying his mannerisms as he enthusiastically interacted with everyone. You weren’t someone who Seungmin’s charms would work on—instead, you felt like prey, waiting to be pounced on any second now.

Before you knew it, the table reading came to a close. You could faintly remember standing and packing your things quietly, more focused on the sudden stinging feeling you felt coming from your eyes, already threatening to water. “This is ridiculous,” you huffed in frustration. Why did you feel the need to cry like a child at this very moment?

“With the way your script is being shoved in that tiny bag, yeah, I would say that too.”

“Leave me alone, Kim.”

You hear him chuckle, causing your grip on your leather bag’s opening to become tighter, feeling the metal zipper bite at your palm. “There’s a lot of Kims here, Y/N. Be careful now; they might mistake you for being rude to them,” he chirps. Fucking chirps. Like a small bird who deserves to be doted on. Except the man before you was neither small nor deserved to be doted on—Kim Seungmin would never be described in any of those words in your world.

“Right. Since they’re also talking to me right now,” you scoffed back. Thankfully, that seemed to keep the tears at bay for now. You refused to break down in front of the most infuriating man in your life.

“Still stuck up as ever,” he sighs. Your eyes almost popped out of their sockets at his comment. You? Stuck up? If anything, that would be him! “This would be our first piece together after that charity drama our acting academy did way back a few years ago, so would it kill you to be civil?”

Ah. There it was. The infamous acting academy.

JYP Academy of Theatrics was admittedly one of the most successful acting academies in the country, known for producing many big name acts throughout its years of operation. Every aspiring actor has probably gone through the phase of wanting to be part of the academy’s carefully limited population of trainees—you included.

You remember the first time you brought up your plans on becoming an actress to your parents; their apprehensive faces telling you to try going to an acting academy first before giving up everything and running towards your dream blind. Young you didn’t realize the underlying implication that your parents were expecting you to be discouraged and give up on your thoughts of becoming an actress for good. Instead, you aimed high with the thoughts of their support, confidently applying for JYP Academy.

To your parents’ surprise, you passed both rounds of the screening, becoming a full-fledged acting academy trainee at one of the most prestigious places for it. It was also where you met the thorn in your life that was standing before you at the present.

“And frankly, I’m looking forward to this. So can we not ruin the mood on set?” He had the nerve to add. That was all you needed for your last string of restraint to snap.

“Why? So you could enjoy the power trip of watching me fumble around like a headless chicken after getting scolded a thousand times for my horrible acting skills?”

“What?”

You watched as Seungmin’s face morphed from exhaustion into a look of confusion at what you had just said. However, you knew better than to give him the benefit of the doubt—so you continued to shoot your bullets at him.

“I know you, Kim Seungmin,” you motioned towards him. “Don’t you dare think I’ve forgotten your days at the acting academy, especially that damned charity drama. But consider yourself lucky, since I won’t drag your ass down this time, Golden Boy. In fact, watch me shine on set even if it’s against your will or whatever is going on in that ego of yours, because I refuse to bow down to you. Things may have been different seven years ago, but I’ve grown since then. So if you want to prove to me that you have to, then know how to keep your mouth to yourself around me.”

After your little round of firing the pent-up rage inside of you, you snatched your bag from the table and stormed out of the room without another word. You had half the mind to worry if anyone had heard your little squabble with Seungmin, but you were already too far down the hall to go back and check, risking a blow to your conscience if ever you tried to go back. You only had the fact that you had managed to keep your voice surprisingly low throughout the whole exchange to console you.

With this, you continued your trek towards the parking lot to meet your manager once again—blissfully unaware of the state in which you left your co-star back in the room.

“What the fuck just happened?”

It took everything in Seungmin to not march after you and demand an explanation for what you had just said to him. In all honesty, Seungmin was baffled. Out of all the possible scenarios he had imagined to happen when meeting you, this was definitely not one of them. Sure, you two weren’t exactly the best of friends way back in your academy years, but he had at least considered you an acquaintance.

Even then, he didn’t remember your relationship being this bad. For all the times the both of you clashed heads, he couldn’t recall a single time serious bad blood was developed. The memory of you laughing joyfully as he messed up a line in your shared scene together on a monthly evaluation was still fresh in his memories—so just where did this hostility come from? If he were to base his conclusion off your words earlier, then it must have something to do with the charity drama, and that only made Seungmin more lost.

What you said earlier did hold some truth to them—you were scolded a lot by their advisor, slash project director, but in no way did you do badly in the production. Seungmin could testify to that. After all, he was witness to the amount of praise you got from fellow trainees as they watched you act out your scenes on camera, even though his younger counterpart was jealous of all the positive feedback. So now, he really couldn’t understand where your deep-rooted bitterness towards him came from. He even gave you some tips during the times you seemingly struggled with their advisor’s vision!

“Seungmin?”

He turned over to where his name was just called, seeing his manager approach him while bowing politely towards the small number of production staff left in the room. “Oh, did I take too long, Minho?”

“Yeah, but it’s alright. I knew you were going to catch up with a friend,” Minho looked around for a bit before continuing, “Speaking of which, did she go already?” Seungmin couldn’t stop himself from clicking his tongue at his manager’s words.

“It’s a long story.”

Well, two can play that game. If you truly knew him like you said you did, then you would know that Kim Seungmin isn’t one to give up when he sets his mind to something.

02 : TWO.

You wanted to give up right at this very moment.

Today was the first day of filming for the movie you were cast in as the female lead, yet here you were, one push away from having a mental breakdown. It was your first lead role—one that you had wished on countless stars to get ever since signing a contract with your current agency. Yet, now that you actually have it, you were left unsure of whether your acting could do proper justice to the character given to you. The confidence you flared towards Kim Seungmin a few days ago was nowhere to be found right now as anxious thoughts swirled through your head instead.

When you first read the script as one of your manager’s proposals for your next project, you instantly felt like the female lead’s role spoke to you the most. The plot itself was a masterpiece, clearly right up Director Han’s alley with its sentimental undertone and themes of self-discovery. It followed the male lead, returning back to his hometown for a high school reunion after just deciding to quit his job at a well-known corporation in the city. At the reunion, he meets the female lead, whom he remembers having the biggest crush on back in his teenage years—before he moved to the city for college.

In comparison, the female lead never left their homey countryside town. She attended the nearby community college and also settled her adult life in the same area. However, that didn’t mean that what she had achieved was all she wanted to do in life. Like everyone else, she too, had her own dreams. Unfortunately, she lacked confidence in herself to chase opportunities and got stuck right where her starting line was.

And in a way, she spoke to you.

You didn’t want to admit it, but perhaps you regret running your mouth like that at your co-star during the table read. It was a moment of weakness, you tried to tell yourself. Emotional you talked too big for what you could handle, so now you were left here to deal with the consequences of your actions.

But lies had their truths too.

It was true that you wanted to shine on set—outshining Kim Seungmin was just an added bonus to the thought. You’ve spent far too long in others’ shadows, never really feeling like you had the chance to show your fullest potential. That was something you fought for constantly, starting from your days at the academy up until the present, only to have no such luck. Maybe that was why you developed a habit of becoming pessimistic at the worst times, becoming your own enemy as you fall into a pit of self-sabotage, effectively going against everything you’ve ever wished for yourself. It was a cycle of keeping yourself confused with your own decisions, and it was a frustrating process.

You could only stare from the actors’ corner on the site as you watched the crew members run around making final arrangements for today’s shoot. Normally, you wouldn’t have seen this part of the process, as actors would often arrive later on when everything was nearly set, during their actual call time. You just intentionally went early, deciding that you weren’t going to get any more sleep even if you tried, seeing as most of the previous night was spent trying to make sure you had your lines all perfected. Sleep came rough yesterday, and you had no one else to blame but your own nerves.

At least the set looked great—today you were filming all the scenes needed for the high school reunion. The place was this quaint function hall in a small town about seven hours from the capital city, the same town you would be staying in to shoot for a little less than a week. You couldn’t help but think that maybe the new environment contributed more towards your slowly diminishing confidence, feeling yourself too far away from the strong presence of individualistic urban life. A defeated sigh was all you could do in attempt to ease yourself, even the slightest.

“I’m beginning to think this is going to become a pattern,” you hear a familiar toned voice comment. “Meeting you distressed, I mean.”

You spare the figure a half-hearted glance before rolling your eyes, forcing out an appropriate greeting. Or what was appropriate in your books, anyway.

“Oh, it’s you.”

Seungmin’s face displayed his feelings of amusement, which in turn made your frown deepen. “Not even a good afternoon? That’s harsh of you, Y/N,” he says in a tone made for mockery. “You really don’t like seeing my face, huh?”

“More like, I just don’t like you, period,” you grumbled in annoyance. “Also, why are you even here this early?”

Your surprise at his punctuality was real; you were not expecting to see him on set three hours early. But maybe you should have foreseen this behavior, seeing as the Seungmin you knew back then was also one to be on time during all lessons, activities, and practices. A part of you was then thankful for the question coming off as general because if you added any more comparisons, it would’ve seemed like you held on to too much information on him from the past.

“Just because I’m the main character doesn’t mean I should be fashionably late. Would it tick you off to know that I like being punctual with things?”

“Yeah,” was your immediate reply, not needing to think about it any further. “Since now, I have to time myself to arrive just before the call time.”

Seungmin lets out a deep sigh at your words. “You don’t want to spend any more time with me than necessary, got it.” He says, then lifting a finger up to tap against his ear. “But you know, you should really learn to keep your plans away from enemy ears.”

You tried your best not to show the inner war that just sparked inside of your head—you really shouldn’t have found that small gesture attractive, but the romantic side in you swooned so easily against your will. And for what? Kim Seungmin, of all people? You really should tone down all the enemies-to-lovers content you were consuming, because this was the last thing you wanted to happen. Real life just doesn’t play out like that.

Giving him some slack and perhaps a half-assed attempt at reverse psychology, you replied with a tired tone. “I’ll agree with you on that one, so you may walk away now, Kim.”

Except that Seungmin didn’t seem to catch the memo.

“Says the one who keeps talking,” he snarks at you. “For someone who told me to keep my mouth to myself around you, you’re the one who keeps the conversation flowing.”

You rolled your eyes for the second time since starting this conversation. At this point, you were convinced that Kim Seungmin was on a mission to dislocate it. “You just have to win everything, do you?”

“It’s my charm, I suppose.”

“And I disagree. The only charm you have is that mouth of yours you use to manipulate everyone around you.”

That seemed to snap something within Seungmin. “What the hell did I ever do to you?” He spits out furiously. “I would’ve already sued you for defamation if you acted like this around everyone else, so you should be thankful that I’m being tolerant of your attitude right now.”

“Thankful? Why would I be thankful?” Was your baffled response. “You know, I’m starting to believe that you don’t remember what you put me through all those years ago at all, and it’s only making me more upset that you seem to hold no remorse whatsoever.”

“If it’s that bad, then go ahead and tell me!” Seungmin hissed in an attempt to keep his voice down and not cause a scene. “I don’t have time for this roundabout game you have going on, and honestly, neither should you. We have a high-profile movie to film, and I would never let whatever this is ruin the hard work of a hundred people—so get your head out of your ass and either clench your teeth and save the working environment we have or be a dear and solve this issue with me right now.”

Now you were just barely containing your rage. It was at this point that you realized that Seungmin wasn’t faking anything; and that made it sting a lot more in your already scarred heart. Of course, someone like him wouldn’t understand why you were acting like this. Someone like him, born talented enough to be loved and praised by everyone, would never see the other side that you had to be dragged through—the side that existed all because of people like him, too.

“Fuck you, Kim Seungmin,” you croaked out through tears. “I knew someone like you would never understand.”

And you ran.

“What are—Y/N! Come back here!”

03 : THREE.

“Y/N, where in the world even are you? You need to come back to the actors’ tent right now!”

Changbin’s voice boomed through your phone’s speaker a lot louder than usual, causing you to jerk it away from your ear in pain. Well, you did deserve the scolding—after running off to God knows where in a relatively remote town you didn’t even know, you would be pissed as hell too if you were your manager. What kind of actress just leaves the set without a single thought like that?

“I swear, Y/N. Do not tell me you’re lost because I’m pretty sure I left you somewhere safe the last time I saw you,” you hear Changbin huff on the opposite end. “I can’t believe you told me that you were going to be fine on your own, and I actually trusted you. That’s it! I’m not letting you wander around the set anymore from this point onwards!”

You couldn’t help but find your manager’s rant funny, despite the clear threat being held above your head. “Really? I’m telling you that it’s almost call time, and you’re just laughing. Fine, go on your own soul-searching, or whatever it is you’re doing. I’m telling everyone you left your role to go play hooky—”

Oh, you could only wish. After your little squabble with Seungmin, playing hooky didn’t sound like a bad option. Sadly, you still had a conscience that weighed on you—even more hypersensitive to the people around it with your co-star’s earlier comment of ruining other people’s hard work. You hurriedly shook your head to get rid of the negative thoughts that were starting to plague your head once again, and instead focused on the group of trees that lined the path towards the entrance of the function hall.

“Changbin, I’m fine.”

“Damn right, you should be!” He screeches one last time before calming down. “But in all seriousness, you need to head over here now, or Director Han is going to chew me a new one. He knows my sister, and I don’t want to be berated for not doing my job properly by her of all people.”

You chuckled at the competitiveness in his voice. “Don’t worry, I just took a short walk for fresh air. You know how nervous I was earlier on the way to the set.” Changbin hummed in acknowledgement.

“And on the way to this town in general,” he teases. It didn’t last long, though, since he immediately followed up on your well-being with a soft tone. “Did the walk help? I can get you some hot tea too, if you want.”

“Look at you, finally being a proper manager,” you threw back at him, snickering as offended noises started to pour out of your phone. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll take you up on that tea offer. Plus, I’m just around the corner now.”

Once you saw his figure coming into view, you hung up the call and opted to wave your right arm to catch his attention. Changbin broke out into a frantic sprint towards you the minute he saw you approaching.

“Oh, thank whatever deity there is. You need to head over to the tent right now and—” He suddenly stopped mid-sentence, holding you still at arms length to give you a look of confusion as he scanned your face. “Did you cry? Why are your eyes like that?”

Shoot. You had totally forgotten about that for a second. “Ah,” was all you could muster in a sheepish daze. “It was just to let the nerves out, you know? It’s nothing serious.”

Changbin narrowed his eyes at your excuse, making you hold your breath unintentionally. It felt as though you were being picked apart, trying to find the truth that you desperately wanted to keep hidden. Eventually, the man before you decided to let it be, sending you off with an exhausted wave.

“Hm. Alright, and it’s already going away, so it must’ve just been a light session. Try to blink it out more so that it’s long gone once you step in front of the cameras.”

You silently breathed out a sigh of relief. “Will do. Thanks, Changbin.”

“Stop being a sap and head over to the tent already,” he chuckles before sending you a comforting smile. “Good luck. I’ll just be here.”

A grateful look found its way onto your face as you walked briskly towards the actors’ tent. You should really treat Changbin to dinner after all of this is over, you think to yourself, putting on your game face and entering the enclosed area with a newly steeled heart.

Now, Seungmin wasn’t the type to be overly concerned with others’ business. While he wouldn’t exactly call himself an extreme individualist, he still did have an appreciation for community. You wouldn’t catch him dead in the act of trying to mingle with someone else’s issues if it had nothing to do with him. However, all that seemed to somehow fly out the window whenever it had something to do with you.

To him, you were a person qualified enough to be considered intertwined with his own life. Sure, he hadn’t seen you in person for years, but that still would never be able to erase the fact that you knew him behind the cameras. Actually, even worse.

You knew the person he was before he even took up acting as a career.

Perhaps that was why he was so bothered by the way you were acting with him recently. He doesn’t even recall ever being that hostile to someone since his high school days, and that alone terrified him. It was like he regressed back to the days of his youth whenever he interacted with you—and that did more harm than good. The younger him was full of teen angst that he wanted to bury deep inside the confines of his past, but the animosity you seemed to harbor personally against him made him wonder if he was truly missing important information from that era of you both.

So when he saw you walk into the tent with fading redness evident in your eyes, just right after your small fight with him earlier, he instantly felt a punch in his gut. In all honesty, he wasn’t aiming to make you cry—it just so happened that the spur of the moment was so intense that he spat out things he barely meant. Sure, they still stemmed from the truth of how he felt since he did want to make amends with you, but even he wants to kick himself for the way he worded things so out of pocket. His reaction to the situation was so childish that it would be easier to think he finally went insane from the busy schedules he’s been doing than believe that what he did was a conscious decision. He was supposed to be the mature one at that moment, reaching out to fix the issue.

And yet here he was, feeling like a child in front of you.

He wanted to approach you, apologize for earlier, and maybe another one for whatever stupidity his old self did that was clearly bad enough for his mind to completely block out entirely. If you were reacting this much, it had to be at least somewhat of a traumatizing experience. Seungmin doesn’t think he ever got that bad back then, but everyone had different perspectives—and yes, young him had a tendency to be a prick. He still had friends, though, and no one ever called him in to discuss his behavior, so it wasn’t like he was a bully.

Either way, he felt the need to apologize—and maybe get an apology back, but his legs wouldn’t let him. A part of him knew that if he did approach you at the moment, you might run away again, and it was almost time for the briefing. Instead, he settled on looking at you across the pop-up room, hoping that his silent sentiment was delivered.

Which it was not. At all.

If anything, it added more pressure to whatever nerves you were holding back. Seungmin’s gaze was so piercing to the point that you didn’t even need to turn and look to know that he had his eyes locked on you. What does he want from you now? Oh, right—you two would be filming your scenes together in a matter of about an hour or two. Maybe this was Seungmin’s way of telling you to get your shit together while finally respecting your wishes to be left alone. Improvement is improvement, so you’d leave him alone to do his thing too.

“All right, is everyone here?” A lean man in his mid-twenties walked in, asking everyone inside. There was another person following him, yet seemingly younger. “It seems so. If someone you know is late, just fill them in with the details later.”

The first man lifted up a thick bind of paper, which you quickly recognized as the script. “I’m sure everyone has read their copy of this. My name is Hwang Hyunjin, and I’m the head scriptwriter for this film. Over here to my side is Yang Jeongin, my assistant. We’re here to give you a briefing on how this shoot will go for today since Director Han and Assistant Director Lee are busy with the filming crew as of the moment.”

So they were the ones behind the script. You felt your excitement levels increase as various questions about the story’s making filled your head—but you would save that for another day. Perhaps during the crew dinner after the movie’s filming was completed.

“Today, we’ll be filming one of the first scenes in the movie—the reunion. That’s why there’s a lot of you are here right now, despite the story only really having a few recurring characters. Still, whatever your role is, I hope you take this opportunity with pride. All of you here will be treated as actors for as long as you stand on this set, so have the dignity of one. Whether you have lines or not, what I expect from all of you is your best, and only your best,” Head Scriptwriter Hwang emphasized.

The briefing continued on with the necessary information for the reunion scene, with detailed clarifications and stage directions. If you weren’t locked in on all the information being fed to you, you would’ve had half the mind to acknowledge how strikingly handsome the man was upfront. A few others did, though, and you couldn’t really blame them. The guy could be an actor himself if he wanted to be.

“And I believe that’s all for now,” Head Scriptwriter Hwang clapped his hands in satisfaction. “Hair and makeup will take care of you all for about an hour and a half. I see that some of you already came prepared, so go ahead and touch up yourself if you want to. Main characters, you have your own booths,” he glances towards the stations at the end of the tent.

“You’ll be called up when needed. Actor Kim Seungmin, please get ready first since we need you for the entrance shots. That is all. Good luck.”

Head Scriptwriter Hwang bows politely to all of you before exiting the tent with Assistant Yang. With that, the battlefield begins.

You couldn’t remember much of what was happening other than you being sat down in front of a well-lit mirror and letting yourself become a doll in the hands of the make-up artists. The one assigned to your hair did start a short conversation about your previous works, to which you could only thank her shyly for her support. While you weren’t the most popular actress out there, you were still relatively well-known, with notable works under your belt. Seven years of experience wasn’t something someone could just laugh at, after all.

On the other hand, your co-star was a famous A-lister who was most likely getting paid significantly more than you for his role in this film. You glanced a bit to your right, where Kim Seungmin was happily chatting with his hair and makeup assignees, his voice effortlessly traveling its way over to your spot.

Ever the social butterfly, that one.

“Are you excited?” The woman assigned to your hair, who you learned was named Eunha, asked. You looked at her, startled by the sudden topic change. “Sorry—it’s just that you kept looking over at Actor Kim that it came to mind. He is quite the looker, isn’t he?”

“Oh.”

How should you even respond to that? It wasn’t like you could just go around advertising your personal beef with the man when, as far as you knew, he had a clean record on his plate. That would just be a lawsuit waiting to happen. You’d have to settle for something vague instead. “I guess,” you cringe at the evident pain in your voice.

“I’ve heard from others in the industry that he’s a great guy. You’ll have a blast filming this movie with him. I know it’s a bit awkward right now, but I’m sure you’ll warm up to him soon. After all, you’re both the lead roles.”

You’ll surely have a blast, alright—straight to the ego.

This conversation just gave you the unfriendly reminder that you had to act all lovey-dovey with this man, and if anything, it was triggering some unpleasant memories. By memories, you meant the charity drama from your acting academy days.

Your experience with that project was interesting, to say the least.

It had all started with Seungmin winning the prize of being the drama’s male lead after getting the top spot on the year-end evaluation for the junior level. Along with his prize came the privilege to choose who he would be acting alongside, only to surprise everyone when he chose you, a trainee who barely got recognition and wasn’t even in the top ten of your level. At first, you felt honored. It was like you were finally getting acknowledged, and by the top performer, no less. So you worked hard to do your part properly, wanting to repay Seungmin for his act of kindness; only for that kindness to turn out to be a mockery of you.

The difference in skill between you two was just too wide. Your shortcomings showed far too much, and your mistakes ended up being emphasized to the point that your level advisor became endlessly frustrated with you. First, it was the scolding. The woman clearly did not appreciate you holding back the entire production, especially since it was for a cause, so she would point out every problem in your acting, which quickly took a turn after you showed barely any improvement. Eventually, your advisor started to berate you—going as far as constantly referring to you as the reason the drama would fail. When you tried to raise the concern with her that it was affecting you negatively, she only brushed you off with a comment about how you should know to take constructive criticism this early to succeed in the actual industry.

At eighteen years old, you could only clench your teeth and accept your fate.

Things only got worse when you overheard Seungmin talking to his friends near the vending machines after practice one day—the same day they were talking about you.

“Dude, why did you choose Y/N to be the female lead?” One of Seungmin’s friends, Yeonjun, groaned aloud. “She’s awful at it. What? Do you like her or something?”

Seungmin only shrugged. “Not really,” he said, uninterested. “I just kept seeing her name during level advancements but never saw her doing anything to stand out. If she got this far, then I should give her a chance, no?” Yeonjun pursed his lips at the answer.

“That’s just cruel, man. The witch has it out for her now.”

“Then she can just do better,” Seungmin chuckles, taking a sip from his soda before continuing. “Not my problem anymore. If I do my role well enough, maybe they’ll pay less attention to whatever she’s doing.”

Beomgyu, another friend of his, scoffed. “So, like—you’re basically using her to your advantage.” You watched Seungmin wave him off without a care.

“Stop making it sound so bad like that,” he hums at the thought. “Let’s just say I’m saving her the embarrassment. Like you said, it was my fault she’s getting thrown around like this anyway,” Seungmin continues before tossing his empty can of soda in the trash.

And wow, did you feel like one after hearing that.

Starting from that point onwards, you held a dislike for Kim Seungmin. It did, however, give you enough spite to use as a driving force to do well in the charity drama—eventually climbing up to senior level right beside Seungmin, where you two clashed for the higher ranks before graduating and starting your own careers.

Despite this, the memory of the junior project still stayed ingrained in you, never really managing to fade away like you wanted it to, causing you to struggle in your quest to succeed in the industry. The deprecating thoughts came at the worst times, making you revert back to that eighteen-year-old who kept her tears at bay as the director shouted at her for the nth time.

It was particularly the worst right now.

“Cut! Bad take!”

You snapped your head towards Director Han, who looked so frustrated that he started to resemble a certain someone from the ghosts of your memories. Kim Seungmin was in front of you, his tongue poking at his cheek after hearing the comment. Right, you were at the set—shooting a scene. And you had just failed to say your next line.

“Actress Y/N, you can’t just keep forgetting your lines like this!”

04 : FOUR.

You really can’t go on forgetting your lines like this.

“Y/N.” Changbin sighs heavily. “Seriously, what’s going on?”

It would have been amazing if the gods could hear your plea. Your wish was fairly simple, after all—to be buried six feet under at the moment. To hell with being a popular actress; you wanted nothing more than to disappear right now after that stunt you just pulled. On the first day of filming, no less.

Should you just go dig your own hole instead?

“It won’t happen again,” you softly replied, like a child getting scolded by their mother.

Your manager could only take a deep inhale at your words. “And I believe you, I really do,” he says. “But I can’t just let this go like this.”

Of course, he couldn’t. You would do the same thing in his shoes. Changbin was a manager for an actress—an actress who clearly can’t even manage herself. Your job’s core had a simple description, and that was to act out your lines. Lines that you had to memorize, internalize, and perform. What was the point of having seven years of experience under your belt if you couldn’t even do the basics of your occupation?

“You have to understand, Y/N. It wasn’t just once, or twice, or heck—not even thrice! You had a minimum of five retakes per couple of lines, and that’s already concerning enough for me to have to intervene. Director Han was really disappointed today, and it’s only the first filming. The only reason you’re still coming back on set tomorrow is because, at the end of the day, we managed to get good takes despite the issues. So pray tell, is something wrong?”

The humble inn’s room you were staying in became devoid of sound from your lack of response, making the cicadas outside seem a lot louder than they actually were. Your sitting figure made you look small in front of the man before you, who was pacing across the room in distressed strides. In all honesty, you had nothing to say back to Changbin. As much as you trusted him like your own older brother, explaining your oh-so-stellar performance earlier would entail having to reveal your past with Kim Seungmin, which was the last thing on the list of secrets you wanted to get out. Thus, there was only one solution to your dilemma.

“Can we replace Kim Seungmin?”

Changbin’s jaw slacked. “What—him again?” He laughed humorlessly, completely baffled at your request. “And replace, you say? Y/N, at the rate we’re going, you’re the one in danger of getting replaced!”

Okay, you should’ve expected that. But the sting from your manager’s comment wouldn’t hurt any less, even if you did.

You were well aware of all of your shortcomings as an actress. The seven years you gained in this industry clearly taught you a lot of important lessons, but those same seven years barely did anything to your ability, no matter the amount of effort you desperately poured into your career. It felt like a futile attempt at pouring into a cup that had a big hole at the bottom—knowing you could be filled to the brim with the necessary factors to succeed exponentially, yet still letting everything go down the drain.

Maybe this was the wake up call you needed to acknowledge that you’re the only one holding yourself back. And you had the slight inkling that you knew all along where this whole mess stemmed from.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what, even?” Changbin ran a hand through his already tousled hair. “Look, if you really don’t want to tell me, then fine. I’ll respect your wishes. But you can’t expect me to understand where you’re coming from if I know nothing. Deal with how overbearing I could be, or I don’t know, just keep that in mind.”

“I understand.” You meekly nodded. “Sorry, again. I’ll do better tomorrow.”

With your vague words, Changbin eventually came to the conclusion that you weren’t going to speak about the issue today. Walking towards you, he finally accepted your decision with a light pat on the head. “You don’t have to say that to me, Y/N. Maybe to the crew tomorrow. And Actor Kim Seungmin if you want. Just promise me a better performance tomorrow, and we’ll be good.”

You chuckled dryly. “Yes, I’ll do that.”

“Alright.” Your manager rolled his shoulders back, releasing the tension that built up from his pacing. “I’ll go to my own room now. Get some good rest. You need it after what happened today,” he chuckles.

“Okay, good night.”

You plastered a small smile for him, only letting it drop completely after you heard the door shut. After that, it was just you and your mind, ready to play the most depressing thoughts all through the night to beat you down once again. However, you weren’t going to fall for that today. You had already promised a better performance on filming tomorrow.

And what better ways were there to achieve both than practice until the sun rises?

Well, that surely did it’s work for you because you walked into the set the next day looking like a few years had just shaved off your lifespan. But as long as you could still function well enough to participate in the shoot, then you would consider your little sacrifice worth it.

A certain someone would beg to disagree, though.

Seungmin has never felt more concerned in his life. Just what in the world did you do all night to come out of your room looking like a literal zombie? To make matters worse, no one was even batting an eye at your less-than-ideal state! He watched you get your makeup done from across the tent with a thoughtful expression.

“Is it just me, or did Y/N get no sleep whatsoever?”

Minho cringed at Seungmin’s blunt comment. “Oh, you noticed it too?” He purses his lip, feeling uneasy. “I feel bad for her, but after the mishap from yesterday, I wouldn’t be surprised if she stayed up all night trying to make sure it doesn’t happen again. No sleep is better than no role in this industry, after all.”

Seungmin frowned at his manager’s words. That can’t be right. Sure, as actors, getting roles to play was their bread and butter—but no project was going to be worth more than their own well-being. If your condition was bad, then how were you expecting to have the proper mindset to act well? That should be simple logic.

He huffed. “I’m going to talk to her.”

Before he could even take a step forward, a strong force had already pulled him back. “Stop right there, Seungmin.” His manager gripped his shoulder in warning. “I know you mean well, but please do not do anything to agitate Actress Y/N any further.”

Seungmin turns back in disbelief. “What are you even talking about?”

“Aren’t you two close? I know how you joke around when you’re comfortable, and I’m just letting you know that this might not be the best time to do so.”

The actor narrowed his eyes at the implication being thrown his way. “You know, you’re making me out to be a major ass right now.” Minho shrugged.

“That’s because one wrong move, and you might as well be,” he sighs. “Look, all I’m saying is that what she probably needs right now is support. Someone who would give her motivation to get through the shoot today.”

Seungmin deadpanned at his manager’s sudden advice. He wasn’t expecting Minho, of all people, to lecture him about how to properly interact with others. “Exactly?” The younger of the two raises a brow. “What else do you think I was going to do?”

Minho looked hesitant for a second. “You and I both know that you’re not exactly the most—” he trails off, making random expressive movements with his hands instead. Seungmin scoffed.

“Spit it out.”

“—Motivating. You’re probably the least motivating person here.”

Seungmin visibly blanched at Minho’s admittance. Truth be told, he wasn’t expecting the older man to say anything particularly nice, but the actual reveal was just completely out of his radar.

Even when he was young, Seungmin never struggled with making friends. He’s always been well-liked by the people around him, which has made him fairly popular amongst his peers. With such a positive response from a lot of people regarding him as a person, Seungmin was clearly gifted in the art of making friends. So now, being told that he lacked the skill of uplifting others greatly confused him. If that were true, then shouldn’t he have had the opposite experience with socializing?

“I—” He stutters, caught off guard. “Do my social skills not prove to be enough for you?”

“Those are two completely separate things,” Minho barely managed to suppress a sneer. “Seungmin, you’re great at casual talk—that’s no surprise. But you also have the tendency to be dense. And that’s putting it lightly.”

“Oh.”

That would make sense. A part of him also admitted that his younger counterpart did struggle with connecting to others. Yes, he had a lot of friends, but that didn’t mean he saw all of them equally. As harsh as that may be, the old Seungmin had this unfathomable standard for people he could call friends, which he used as a strict criteria for judging others. He still kicks himself whenever he gets reminded of how big his high horse used to be, for no reason. Seungmin was more than willing to leave that time of his life at the back of his mind to collect dust. His life has been so much better without it, and he would do anything to maintain this satisfactory present he has carved for himself.

His manager chuckled. “Who knows, though? Maybe you could finally practice your empathy with this conversation. You’ve been around professional robots for far too long.”

“That sounds like an insult,” Seungmin says, expressing his doubt.

“I’m just saying it as it is.” Minho patted his back twice. “Now, I already warned you enough. If you still want to talk to Actress Y/N, then go ahead. Just know that whatever comes out of that mouth of yours is completely your responsibility, and I will not cover for you if you come out of this one with a broken friendship.”

Seungmin let the words sink in.

“There you go, all done!” Eunha exclaims, lightly pushing your hair forward to make the volume more noticeable. You gave her a thankful smile.

Eunha was someone you'd only known for two days, but she was already becoming your favorite person on set. The way she manages to lighten your mood every time made her worthy of being on the list of people you greatly appreciated, especially with how things were going for you recently. Today too, her positivity was very welcomed.

“Thank you,” you say while admiring her work. “It looks pretty today too.”

The hairstylist beamed. “Of course it should be,” she huffs in pride. “You need to be the prettiest one here on set. After all, you’re the female lead!”

You knew she didn’t mean it to be, but her words felt like little stabs to your heart. The prickly ache spread slowly, like poison that was meant to be discrete. You chuckled to offset the pain.

“Right.”

Female lead. The character you worked so hard for—only for you to also ruin the chance with your own hands. You couldn’t help but think of how ungrateful you were being, and for what? A personal grudge towards your co-star, who was being more professional about the situation than you ever tried to be? It was almost laughable how belatedly you realized that the situation was never going to be in your favor. You weren’t someone looking to be pitied, so why were you hypocritically trying to paint yourself as the distressed damsel?

Eunha sent you a troubled glance as she fixed the tools on the table. “Are you alright? I—” She sighed. “I didn’t want to point it out earlier, but I guess my concern got the best of me. The bags under your eyes looked deep earlier—Yerin did a great job covering them up, though! You don’t worry about how you’ll look on camera, but I’m just worried about your condition.”

You sheepishly scratched your arm at being pointed out. “Sorry for worrying you. I just forgot the time last night and fell asleep late. You could say I was too excited to shoot again today.”

“Well, that’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one.”

You jumped in your chair, startled by Seungmin’s voice suddenly joining the space on your side of the tent. Eunha’s eyes gave you a silent apology before bowing to Seungmin and heading out of the tent, indicating that her task was finished. Your gaze fluttered toward your co-star, who was looking at you in a disapproving manner. It was then that you remembered his comment.

“And that was rude of you to disrupt a conversation that had nothing to do with you.”

Seungmin wasn’t fazed by your bite. “Why didn’t you sleep?”

“I asked a question first, Kim.” You crossed your arms at being ignored. “Also, I did sleep.”

"No, you didn’t,” he pressed on. You could feel your blood pressure rise at his insistence. “Even a twenty-minute nap could do wonders. You just look horrible.” You scoffed at the insult.

“Gee, thanks. Exactly what I needed to hear.”

Seungmin’s eyes widened comically, and you almost laughed at the sight. Almost. He looked so guilty of what he had just said that you felt the urge to tease him as revenge.

“Wait, no—”

“An explanation isn’t necessary,” you hummed. “Even if that wasn’t a joke, I could really care less right now.”

Your reply made Seungmin flail his hands around like a madman. “It was a joke. I didn’t mean anything about it,” he coughs out before composing himself after realizing how silly he was acting. “Sorry.”

“Ok. Thank you for apologizing.”

“Sure,” he trailed off. Seungmin was now unsure of what to even do.

Oddly enough, your heart warmed at his reaction. A part of you was thanking yourself for finally becoming more rational, as you thought that maybe he wasn’t so bad. Sure, your past together was still rocky territory, but you had to remind yourself that time had also passed. Seven years at that. That detail took you back to the conversation you two had back at the table reading. You remember the way you hissed at him that you had changed—what made you assume that he couldn’t do it too? Everyone was allowed to become better versions of themselves, and Kim Seungmin wasn’t exempted from that. He was but another person living amongst others in this world, after all.

Changbin was right. Seungmin also deserved an apology.

“I guess I also owe you an apology,” you say softly. “About how I’ve been towards you the whole time—it was immature of me. I hope we can continue to work well until the end of this project, like you said yesterday.”

“Now, this is just odd.”

Seungmin was now utterly lost. He recalls approaching you despite Minho’s warnings, deciding that he had enough self-restraint to not screw it up—only to end up insulting you without meaning to. But that wasn’t the confusing part.

It was your reaction.

In Seungmin’s experience, you weren’t one to let something go like that. Even back when you both were in your senior level days at the academy, a simple jest from him would set you off into flames. The you he knew would immediately choose to chew him out, hoping that he would get burned by a rogue ember of your fury for even just attempting to speak such words. But the person in front of him right now did none of that. The you in the present simply took the accidental insult and even apologized for the ones you’ve spat out over the previous days. It was a whiplash, to say the least—just yesterday he was still fighting to keep you in a flowing conversation. So, what was this he was witnessing?

“Is it?” You snicker. “Just think of it like winning. You were right. This is a high-profile project, and I’m over here messing around. I’ve prepared a better performance for you all to see today, so be rest assured.” Seungmin still wasn’t assured.

“Y/N, are you sure you’re alright—”

“Main characters on set!”

Damn. So that’s how it feels for your conversation to get interrupted by someone unrelated to it. Seungmin internally acknowledged your annoyance earlier and kicked the memory of himself from a few minutes earlier.

You turned back to him, tilting your head. “What was that?” Seungmin refused to admit that he found the action cute.

“No, it’s nothing,” he said, clearing his throat. “Let’s have a good shoot.”

05 : FIVE.

Okay, you do not think this was turning out to be a good shoot.

You were already regretting pulling another all-nighter the day after you got absolutely no sleep. This meant that you were already nearing 48 hours of no sleep, to which you were surprised you were still even capable of functioning. You had never gone this long without sleep, and it was both thrilling and terrifying to you at the same time.

Honestly, you were already expecting to feel lethargic after the shoot yesterday, especially after staying up the entire night to master your parts and was planning to go to sleep early to make up for it. However, after getting nothing but praise from the directors and filming crew the whole day for your stellar performance that day, you came to the conclusion that perhaps your sacrificial act was exceptionally effective. A little too effective since your manager even said that your acting became much more alive than the takes you did the previous day, despite feeling the complete opposite internally.

Now, while you normally wouldn’t describe yourself as someone who was peer pressured easily, it still felt really nice for your hard work to be acknowledged after the disappointing performance you had the day before. Which also led you to your current predicament—woefully repeating the same magical process that helped you gain your reputation back.

“You’re yawning an awful lot.” Seungmin raised a brow in question. “Don’t tell me that all the praise you got yesterday already got to your head, and you suddenly find all this boring.”

An irked look made its way onto your face, pinching hard on Seungmin’s arm. You watched in satisfaction as he yelped audibly at your damage, jerking away in reflex. “What the fuck, woman?”

“It’s what you get,” you say nonchalantly while shrugging. Seungmin scoffs at the response.

“Just because we have a truce now doesn’t mean you can abuse me whenever you like,” he snarls. “What happened to the Y/N who didn’t want me to talk to her unless, quote on quote, necessary?”

You cringe at the unwelcome reminder of your previous activities. “I apologized! Would you rather have me act like a total bitch again?”

“Well—no. That Y/N was a pain to deal with.”

“Then be grateful for what you have right now.”

Seungmin lets out an amused snort, crossing his arms and leaning backwards closer towards the living room’s walls, where you two were on standby. “Oh, believe me. I’m more than grateful.”

The set right now was in a cozy cottage house, designed to imitate what the female lead’s family home would look like. You had already moved past the beginnings of the main characters’ romance yesterday and were now heading into the development stage, where they spend more time together until they realize their feelings. A domestic scene in one character’s home was a popular trope—which was, of course, also included in the movie.

If today’s shoot goes well, then you only have one day left in the filming process before everyone packs up to head back to the city. Not for Seungmin, though. The male lead still had to film the first part of the movie where he quit his job at the company. You’d have to laugh at him about it on the last day.

First, you had to get through this shoot without fainting flat on your face.

It was a particularly hot day too, which made your drowsiness even worse. The rural countryside cottage didn’t have an air conditioner set up, so you had to make do with fans all over the place. But that barely did anything to cool you down, as the air around the place itself was humid. At least you weren’t shooting out in the sun today.

“Geez, my makeup might melt even before we start filming,” you groan. “That’s if my head doesn’t explode first.”

Seungmin chuckles. “Blame your character for being a sweater enthusiast. That outfit must be torture in this weather.”

He wasn’t wrong about that. The thick baby blue cardigan you were wearing felt like a punishment to wear at the moment. It was unfortunate that you felt really cute in this get-up because you wanted to trash on it so badly.

Actually, fuck it. Comfort matters more.

“I don’t understand how she does it,” you whine dramatically. “Every scene she’s had has her wearing some kind of version of a sweater. Does she not get hot at all?” You pull on your slightly weighted cardigan.

“I do think she’s plenty hot enough.” Seungmin smirks, glancing at you while waiting for your reaction.

You hummed in agreement. “She’s probably just tolerating it since it's her clothing style. I’ve had my fair share of those moments too.”

It wasn’t something you could see since you were more preoccupied with watching the staff prepare for filming, but Seungmin’s ears were slowly turning red. He took note of how his less than savory joke completely flew over your head, now leaving him to drown in the embarrassment of his original intentions.

Internally, he was already having a boxing match with himself. He thinks she’s plenty hot enough? What does that even mean? You were the only image he had of the female lead since you had her role! Seungmin wanted the ground to suddenly swallow him whole at the implication.

You, on the other hand, were fighting a completely different battle. The combination of the heat and your severe lack of sleep was becoming dangerous. You could already feel a growing pounding in your head, the world’s noise becoming more muffled by the second. It seemed like your vision wasn’t affected yet, though—and for that, you were relieved. That meant you could still stretch yourself out until the shoot was finished. You’d already done this once yesterday, so a second time wouldn’t be that bad, right?

Wrong.

Seungmin’s voice as he carried out his lines in the scene seemed so far away to you already, and it had only been an hour since the cameras started rolling. Internally, you were already sounding the sirens. Something was definitely wrong—you don’t think Seungmin was supposed to sound like he was underwater.

Your co-star seemed to notice that you were out of it too, except he couldn’t exactly stop the scene as you were still conducting your parts as proficiently as you could. Director Han hasn’t called a cut yet, either. So, he settled on carefully watching you for signs. You also thought you could last until the scene was over—until you couldn’t.

The last thing you remember was a figure rushing over to you before your sight went pitch black.

“Y/N!”

“Cut!”

Seungmin felt his heart race as he dashed over to catch you from crashing to the ground. What was going on? You were completely fine a while ago. How did you end up fainting? Could it have been the heat? He didn’t think it was going to be that bad for you since he was dealing with it pretty well. The heat wasn’t exactly unbearable. So what was it?

“Actor Kim Seungmin,” D.O.P. Bang called out. “We should take her to the medic tent. Someone, call her manager.”

Seungmin had never agreed more to a suggestion in his life.

“Seungmin? What’s—” Minho’s face paled in shock at the sight of your limp figure. “Oh, shit. That’s why everyone is running around like headless chickens. Quick, let’s get her to the medics.”

Minho sped over to give the actor a helping hand on steadying you, only to be stopped. “We’re wasting so much time.” Seungmin clicks his tongue.

Everyone could only watch as Seungmin positioned his arms on your back and behind your knees, hastily pulling you up towards him in a bridal carry and speeding away to the medic’s tent. Minho’s jaw dropped at his talent’s actions before recovering from the shock and tailing him.

“Seungmin!”

“What?” Seungmin responds half-heartedly as he sets you down on the cushioned stretcher, stepping back as the medics do their job.

“You—” Minho squeaks out. “What was that?”

“What was what?”

“That!” He gestured towards you, still unconscious and being checked on by the medics on standby. “Did you just carry Actress Y/N?”

Seungmin ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “And what about it? Did I commit a crime or something? I was just helping!”

Minho was conflicted. In all the years he had been working as Seungmin’s manager, the actor had never shown this much attention towards his other co-workers, despite maintaining an approachable and friendly image. Of course, that wasn’t particularly a bad thing—especially in an industry where caution towards everyone around you was basic common sense to prevent yourself from going down a road that would lead to your demise. The view was great up where it was high, but the fall was just as immense.

What Minho did acknowledge was your past with Seungmin. Because of that, he was inclined to think more about your friendship with his talent and how that played into your dynamic. Yet, over the course of the two days you two had been filming, he hasn’t exactly seen the kind of relationship he was expecting. There were discrepancies in what he knew about you and Seungmin, as well as gaps in the bond his actor painted a picture of. In times like these, there were only a few reasonable explanations that Minho could think of, which made him uneasy.

Something big was coming in the future—one that he needed to prepare for as early as now.

Hurried footsteps could be heard nearing the tent as Seungmin and Minho diverted their lines of sight towards the entrance, just in time to see a fairly muscular figure come in all frantic. “How is she?”

Minho immediately recognized the man from a conversation he had in the personal staff area, recalling his introduction as your manager. The former bowed slightly in greeting. “Manager Seo Changbin.” Seungmin felt his blood boil after seeing your manager’s late entrance.

“Where even were you?” He asked coldly, intentionally making his tone sharp. “You know, for her manager, you sure are practically nowhere to be found during shoots.”

Changbin splutters at the accusation. “Y/N doesn’t like it when I stay to watch! She says it’s pressuring!”

“Sure. But it’s your job to be on standby in the event that she needs you. How come you weren’t?”

“I—”

“Okay, that’s enough.” A new face entered the space, who Seungmin quickly made out to be Assistant Director Lee. The second-in-hand gave him a disapproving look. “Actor Kim Seungmin, please stop lashing out at Actress Y/N’s manager.”

Seungmin felt like he was seconds away from committing arson. “I’m not lashing out if it's a reasonable argument!”

He felt someone grab a hold of him, forcefully pushing him down to sit. It was only then that Seungmin seemed to finally be conscious of how emotionally he had been acting—accepting Minho’s foresight on his actions. Assistant Director Lee, on the other hand, did not appreciate his recklessness.

“That it is, but we’re going to need you to stay calm,” he states. “The situation is sensitive enough as it is.”

Seungmin felt like he had no choice but to agree. He couldn’t risk making an unreasonable scene in such a respected project set, and knowing you, a tension-filled tent wasn’t going to be your preferred area of rest. Glancing back at your unconscious figure still being tended to, he let out a sigh to release the extra pressure in his chest.

Just what was he doing right now?

Once Assistant Director Lee saw him calm down a significant amount, he clapped to disperse the heavy silence. “Great. Now, can someone inform us when she wakes up so we can restart the shoot?”

So much for calming down, because Seungmin’s temper flared up again in an instant. “Are you kidding me?” He growled. “No, we are not proceeding with filming today!”

“Actor Kim, we don’t have enough time—”

“I’ll pay for all the expenses for the extension and rescheduling of all the remaining shoots. Put all of it under my personal bank account.”

Minho’s eyes almost popped out of their sockets in shock. “Seungmin, what—”

“I said what I said,” Seungmin continued. “Now go do it. Both of us won’t step in front of the camera for the rest of the day.”

“You can’t just decide that for Actress Y/N,” Assistant Director Lee reasoned in disbelief.

Unluckily for him, Seungmin had already made up his mind—and when that happens, he isn’t one to give up on it.

“Then we’ll tell her it’s cancelled because I’m sure as hell won’t be filming today. You can’t make her act out the scenes prepared today without me.”

Assistant Director Lee was conflicted. Taking a day off so suddenly when they’d already had everything set up was going to be such a waste—and frankly, Director Han was already on edge about it. Granted, this wasn’t the first time he’d come across this situation, and certainly won’t be the last in his time in the industry. Now, an actor telling them that they’d pay for the cost of their demand? That one was new.

Kim Seungmin was notorious in the field for being a perfectionist, so he honestly came in here expecting him to agree with their plan. Maybe he should’ve considered the rumors he’d heard around the set that Actor Kim and you were closer than they initially thought. With that, Assistant Director Lee could only sigh. He’d just have to deal with Director Han’s displeasure.

Along with being a perfectionist, Kim Seungmin was also incredibly stubborn.

“I understand,” he concedes. “I’ll inform Director Han.”

Seungmin tried not to show his surprise on his face. He didn’t think he’d actually get this result so easily, but it was welcomed. “Thank you.”

“Let us know if you change your mind.”

“I won’t.”

Assistant Director Lee chuckled at Seungmin’s firm reply before announcing his leave. The atmosphere in the tent improved as he stepped out, but awkwardness still lingered in the air. Minho dropped down to slump on a plastic chair, leaving Changbin to stand stiffly near him.

“Y/N is totally gonna kill you, dude.” Minho groans, completely letting go of formalities in stress.

Seungmin had half the mind to be embarrassed by his choices. “And to think I’m doing this all for her sake,” he scoffs good-naturedly before turning to your manager. “Did something happen before the shoot? She couldn’t have passed out like this just because of the heat today.”

Changbin scratches at his neck. “Uh, I’m not sure—”

“—It’s exhaustion,” one of the medics spoke up. “Her body seems to be completely fatigued, as well as slightly dehydrated, but that must be the heat’s contribution. Has she not been getting enough rest?”

They watched as Changbin’s face morphed into shock, completely unsure of how that could’ve even happened. “But she said she was going to bed early yesterday!”

Your manager was slowly getting on Seungmin’s nerves. First, it was his constant absence from the set. Next, it was his blatant disregard for your well-being. The last time he checked, a manager was supposed to be aware of their talent’s condition as much as possible. Any less and it would be neglect.

He narrowed his eyes. “The picture you’re painting for me is not a good one, Manager Seo.”

“What are you implying right now, Actor Kim?” Changbin pounced back, Seungmin’s tone stirring negative emotions inside him.

Seungmin refused to back down. “You know damn well.”

“Kim Seungmin!”

“Watch your mouth—”

A rustling noise interrupted the three men’s small disagreement. “Ugh,” you groaned in pain. “What in the world?”

“Y/N!” Seungmin jumps up without a second thought to rush over. In the distance, Minho and Changbin’s eyes meet in mutual speculation.

“Seungmin, sorry, but please shut up.” You raise a hand to cradle your head. “My head is pounding.”

You could vaguely make up a medic handing Seungmin some pills and a bottle of water, saying something about how you were stable enough to just need rest and hydration. The next thing you knew was feeling a hand gently take your chin to create an opening and a pill being dropped inside, along with a water bottle pressing against your lips. You gulped it down in shock.

“The fuck—” You coughed. Another hand came up again to wipe some of the water you spilled around your mouth before you pushed it away. “Kim Seungmin!”

Your co-star rolled his eyes at your dramatics. “Would it kill you to stop being so fussy?”

“Not when you’re treating me like a child!”

Changbin clears his throat, effectively stopping your bickering. “Uh—I’m going to go get us lunch,” he meekly informs you two. “The medics also already went out to get food earlier, so I think we need to get our share before it’s all gone.”

Minho nods at Changbin’s words a bit too enthusiastically for your liking. “I’ll come with him. You two can talk while waiting.”

The two of you watch as your managers dash out of the tent like cartoon characters, raising a suspicious brow at their sudden change in behavior. Seungmin clicked his tongue in annoyance before turning back to you and flicking a finger at your forehead without warning. You squealed at the added pain as Seungmin’s suppressed laughter filled the room.

“You are such an asshole!” You shriek while bringing both hands to shield your forehead belatedly.

“And your hair looks like a nest,” he replies with a snicker.

You gave him a glare at his comment, rubbing the sore spot gently. “Shit,” you whined, feeling the ache from inside your head again. “I can’t believe I fainted. How long was I out? What about the shoot? Are we resuming after lunch?”

The questions you were asking him only served as Seungmin’s reminder of his actions earlier, causing his mouth to run dry. Truth be told, even he was unsure of how to tell you everything that happened while you were away in dreamland. He couldn’t just drop the ball at you that he made sure that the shoot had been cancelled just for you to have the rest of the day to rest up. At the same time, there was practically no other way to convince you that the cancellation wasn’t your fault unless he told you the truth.

But Seungmin had already caused you enough misunderstandings to last a decade—and he wasn’t about to add another one.

“You weren’t out for long,” he told you. “I’m actually surprised you even woke up right away. The shoot’s cancelled.”

He watched you pause to let the words sink in. What did he mean by the shoot’s been cancelled? Wouldn’t that be too costly? After all, you were literally renting a place far away from the city to shoot this movie. A shoot cancellation meant an extension, which also meant new arrangements needed to be made. You curled up into a ball, wanting to evaporate into the clouds at the heat of the sun. How much more were you going to screw up everyone’s experience with this project?

“Is it because of me?” You muttered.

Seungmin felt something inside him break at how small you made yourself seem. This was exactly what he was trying to avoid, only to once again fail to prevent it. That one was on him, though—he didn’t manage to tell you right away that he was the one responsible for the shoot’s cancellation. He felt the need to chase away your negative headspace as fast as possible.

“Why do you always blame yourself first? I cancelled the shoot, so just get some more rest.” He sighs.

Your eyes snap upwards to meet his. He had got to joking. “What?” You ask, bewildered at the statement. “And they agreed? I can still continue!”

Seungmin immediately acts to lift your legs back up on the stretcher when he sees you trying to get up. He places a heavy hand on your calves to lock them in place before sending you an unamused stare. “Land a single foot out of this stretcher, and I’ll make sure the shoot gets moved to next week.”

“You can’t just do that!” Your mouth gaped open like a fish. “Do you even know how bad the cost is going to be to extend for that long?”

“I’m more than capable of shouldering the expenses.”

That single statement made your stomach drop. “You cannot be serious,” was your horrified reaction. “Seungmin, did you pay for the extension costs?”

The man before you only shrugged, like he hadn’t just dropped significant information. “What about it?” You blanched at his unconcerned attitude.

“What do you mean, what about it?” You asked, absolutely outraged. “I swear, you’ve always been like this! You think you could just play around with everything around you, since you can. Why can’t you take things seriously for once?”

It was Seungmin’s turn to look offended. “Now, when did I ever do that?”

“The charity drama!” You cry out. “Yeah, I knew all about your little plan back then. If you acted well enough, they wouldn’t pay attention to whatever mess I was making, was it? I even overheard you telling your friends you chose me to become the female lead just because you were curious about how I kept advancing levels when I barely met the standard—and there I was foolish enough to believe that you chose me for my skills!”

“I—” Seungmin stammers. “I don’t remember that.”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” you held back a sob, feeling emotional as you poured out your inner insecurities. “Why would you? Someone of your caliber could go around bending things to your will, and no one would bat an eye since they would justify it with your talent. I’m the complete opposite, Seungmin.”

Seungmin was quite alarmed, to say the least. These were your side of the story—the side that he never got to acknowledge. He could only watch you try to keep yourself together in front of him, clearly struggling as your emotions ran wild at the release of what seemed to be years of suppressed experiences. His body was screaming at him to move and comfort you in any way he knew how, but for the first time in his life, Seungmin was completely frozen in guilt.

“I’ve lived the life below people like you. We were the ones that were always stuck in the shadows, where stepping on us became the norm. People like us were the pieces in your games of chess who couldn’t even speak out in the fear of being thrown out.” You inhaled deeply before meeting his gaze. “It was a life you would never even begin to imagine experiencing at your ability, Seungmin.”

Your words were like spears thrown at Seungmin’s heart. They all rang true in his head. He would never understand what you went through because he was part of the problem. Seungmin thought back to his past, trying to recall where it all started.

He was a young child, only ten years old, when he discovered his passion for acting. His class decided to do a play for the school festival, and he got the role of the main character completely by chance through drawing lots. Young Seungmin didn’t think of it too much and agreed out of obligation. It wasn’t until practices started that he started to take an interest in it after receiving constant praise from his classmates and homeroom teacher. This fascination only bloomed more on the day of the festival, where he found out that performing for people could be this exhilarating.

From then on, Seungmin made it his lifelong dream to become an actor. Seeing his talent in the field, his parents supported him wholeheartedly, eventually leading to them suggesting he join an acting academy to improve. The praises didn’t stop even after he joined the academy—in fact, they only doubled in frequency, making Seungmin come to the conclusion that he must’ve been some sort of prodigy. Perhaps it was due to that mindset of his that he paraded around like the world was his. To his defense, none of the adults around him saw the wrong in his behavior and even went as far as encouraging it.

It was when he graduated from the academy and started his work as a professional actor that he got humbled by all the talent around him. Everyone seemed to be on his level or greater, which completely shattered his worldview. During those times in his rookie years, he learned the importance of hard work and how much it could really make a difference. There was one time that he thought to himself—maybe this was the reason he felt so attracted to you.

You were the first person he ever associated with the difference that hard work brought. Seungmin first noticed you on the first day of intermediate level. He had gotten to that level first and thus kept an eye out for notable candidates from the beginner level. The thing is, he had never even heard of you or any of your performances—so it was a complete surprise to see you climb up to intermediate level. From then on, he observed you from afar, never really approaching. To him, you seemed plain; someone who didn’t even exude star quality. So eventually, he forgot all about you again.

Until he saw your name on the same paper as his, indicating that both of you would be in the same batch that got promoted to junior level.

The charity drama was another project Seungmin gained an unexpected opportunity from. With the privilege given to him as the top ranker for the year-end evaluations, he chose you as his female lead. All Seungmin wanted was to see what kind of shine you had as an actor, and he was rewarded greatly with your stellar performance after days of painful practices. When you were once again bumped up to senior level right alongside him, he was ecstatic. You had changed since the charity drama, and your aura started to take up more space in their small practice room. Seungmin wanted to get closer to you, but the two of you would only end up clashing every time. He guesses that you and him were just complete opposites in everything, down to your work ethic. He still tried to interact with you in any way he knew how, though—which led to his friends teasing him about his little crush on you.

Now, he couldn’t help but think that maybe they were right.

Seungmin pulled his hand away from your calves, letting his hands fall down on his sides before bowing deeply. “I’m sorry. There would be no excuse for my actions, and it’s even worse that I have no recollection of the details when I’ve obviously affected someone. I know an apology wouldn’t erase everything that has already happened, but it would be the start of my attempts to make sure it doesn’t happen again. At this point, all I can ask for is your forgiveness.”

You quickly reached out to grasp his arms, trying to pull him up from his act of remorse. “Get up—oh my god. It’s fine, Seungmin. Really. I’ve already forgiven you yesterday, honestly. My behavior also had some faults towards you, and it was unacceptable.”

“Knowing why now, I think it was more than reasonable.”

You let out a laugh at his words. “You’re just trying to make me feel better,” you teased. “Now, I think the other crew members also deserve an apology from us.” Seungmin’s face paled at the reminder. Just imagining Assistant Director Lee scolding him for his audacity earlier was sending him into early retirement.

“Yeah,” he coughs. “But can we not take back the shoot cancellation? It would be so awkward for me if we did, and you still need the rest.”

“Fine, you big baby.” You pinched his cheek after seeing his childish pout. Seungmin was quick to swat your hand away, despite the burning sensation he could feel heating up his ears. “So does this mean we’re friends?”

Even if he could feel a crack form in his heart from your innocent words, Seungmin refused to show it.

“Sure. Friends.”

06 : SIX.

Being friends with Seungmin was odd.

Granted, you already got a taste of what that felt like for the two days that flew by since you two decided on a truce. However, you didn’t really feel much of a change in your dynamic in those two days—not until things took a turn after your conversation in the medic tent.

After your little heart-to-heart session, Seungmin had begun acting strangely. And by strangely, you meant becoming a complete one-eighty from the Kim Seungmin you were used to. It was almost like he was replaced by a softer, more warm-hearted version of himself. In one talk, you were suddenly subject to his endless affection, albeit still exhibiting the Kim Seungmin flare that you were comfortable with. Overall, it was just weird to think that four days ago, the two of you were fighting like cats and dogs. Now, you watched him bounce up and down as he gave himself a pep talk to prepare for the kissing scene.

“Are you that nervous?”

Seungmin flinches at your question, seemingly not expecting your voice to enter his head while he was seconds away from a meltdown. Your co-star looks at you sheepishly. “Is that bad? This is driving me insane.”

That was another thing different about Seungmin after the medic tent incident. He acted a lot more endearingly in your eyes. You faintly recall a comment you made a few days ago about how Seungmin would never be akin to a small bird who deserved to be doted on. But seeing the Seungmin in front of you right now, you might just take back your words.

Kim Seungmin had a lot more layers than you thought—and you found yourself wanting to uncover them all.

“I’m sure this isn’t your first kiss on camera,” you snort. “Just go do it like you usually do. Act like how your character would act in the moment. You have my whole consent, anyway.”

Seungmin wanted to tell you how much you didn’t understand his dilemma right now. In all fairness, even he was somewhat unsure of what was happening to him the past few days. All he did know was that he was right in what he thought during the first day of filming—he really did feel like he was turning younger in front of you.

It was almost embarrassing how easily he slipped into that carefree attitude around you, especially after your conversation in the medic tent. He was doing so well up until then, so what happened? Seungmin couldn’t be more curious about his own actions. He did have an inkling of what it was, but he needed more proof to act on it. Seungmin couldn’t risk becoming more of an idiot in your eyes. You already had too much of that experience with him during your filming yesterday, which was the rescheduled shoot of the one he demanded to pause.

That also meant that this was the last day you two had on set together before everyone packed their bags and headed back to the city. After that, it would be just him again on set to film the movie’s first scenes of his character.

Seungmin wasn’t disappointed. He totally wasn’t.

“What are you going to do if I lose control and give into my character, huh?” He argues. You stopped reading your script to give him an unamused stare.

“Seriously?” You scoffed. “If you really must know, then I wouldn’t do anything. If that’s what the male lead feels, then the female lead just needs to reciprocate if they’re really in love with each other. As their actors, we need to deliver those same emotions.”

You didn’t get what was making Seungmin so on edge about the scene. Reviewing his past works, this certainly wouldn’t be his first on-screen kiss, nor was it his first romance project as the male lead. What made you so different from his other co-stars that was making him act like a rookie?

“If anything, I should be more nervous than you. This is actually my first kiss scene!”

“That’s just even worse!” Seungmin whines, burying his face in his hands. “This is gonna be terrible.”

It was then that you finally had an idea as to why Seungmin looked like he was having a mid-life crisis this early in his life.

You felt a grin creep up on your face and paste itself there. “Did you want this to be a good memory for me?”

Seungmin groans at your poking. “Stop teasing me! So what if I do? Did I commit a crime, huh?”

“The crime of stealing my heart, yes.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“Thank you,” you laugh. “I try my best.”

Seungmin mutters something beneath his breath—something you couldn’t hear because of Director Han calling for the two of you. He watched as you skipped away, leaving him to follow in your footsteps. Seungmin smiled at the picture painted in front of him.

“I know.”

You stopped at your designated place in front of the camera, turning back to look at Seungmin beside you, who was already sweating bullets. Your hand unconsciously lifts up to wipe them off, which startles the both of you. Seungmin opens his mouth to say something but was cut off by Director Han’s loud voice.

“Alright!” He claps. “This is our last scene for the day before we call it a wrap! I’m sure you two already know what it is, so all I’ll say is don't think too much about this. Enjoy it, or whatever you want to do—as long as it looks natural. Sounds good?” The two of you nod at him.

“Okay, camera starts at three,” he says, motioning towards D.O.P. Bang. “Two, one. Action!”

You took the opportunity to appreciate the scenery around you as the camera started rolling. The scene was set on a hill with a breathtaking view of the rest of the town. Hues of orange and pink start to tint the surroundings as the sun sets in the background. It was nothing less than ethereal, and you almost envied the female lead for having this moment in her life.

“I’ve always wanted to take someone here,” Seungmin says, reciting his lines. “When I was younger, I told myself that I was going to bring my true love here and propose. It was unfortunate that I moved away—this was my favorite spot in the whole world.”

You let yourself completely immerse in the situation. “Propose, huh? I’m sure the lucky person would love it up here. It’s so serene, like it's taking away all your stress just by being here.”

Seungmin gently grabs your hand into his, making you turn to meet his eyes. You almost gasped out of character after seeing the immense amount of love swirling in his gaze. Love looked great on him, you pointed out in your head. One day, Seungmin was going to look at someone else with the same gaze—someone that he loved with all his heart. A tinge of hot green jealousy burned in your stomach at the thought.

Part of you yearned for someone to look at you even just a fourth of the way Seungmin portrayed the male lead’s longing for the female lead. But for now, you had a role to fulfill. You could just lock these feelings up for later.

“Do you?” He asks. Your breath hitches at his question. “I’m not proposing—well, not yet. But I brought you here for a similar reason.”

Seungmin reaches for your other hand, now holding both of them. “I love you so much. I know our time together hasn’t been the longest, but it seems like my heart has found its way back home. Honestly, I first thought that it was just because I was back in town, but eventually I realized that I felt at home with you too.” He caresses your knuckles with his thumbs. “Maybe my heart knew where it belonged long before I did. I loved you back then, just like I love you now.”

You couldn’t help but genuinely tear up at Seungmin’s monologue. It was such a beautiful feeling to be loved, and you hoped that someday you could experience the same kind of love you acted with. “So, I’ll ask you this question,” Seungmin continued.

“Will you be mine?”

“Yes,” you sobbed out.

Seungmin lifts his hands to cup your crying face, bringing you closer to his own. The moment your lips connected felt so magical that you ended up leaning in more, savoring the moment with your fluttering heart. Seungmin reciprocates the act, kissing you with more emotion than he did just a second ago. His lips felt like smooth pillows, coaxing you to release all the tension you had left and rest—with him. Seungmin was being careful yet passionate at the same time, leaving you to drown in the sheer magnitude of the butterflies.

You couldn’t help but love every passing second that you were lost on his lips.

When you two pulled away due to the lack of air, he kept his forehead to yours, noses touching. The soft sound of both your laughter filled the surrounding area.

“Cut! That’s a wrap for today!” You hear everyone start cheering at Director Han’s words. Seungmin chuckles at them as he slowly steps back, missing the way your body followed after his warmth.

“Congratulations,” he says gently. You felt your heart skip a beat. “Your first on-screen kiss, done. How did I do?”

Oh, this was going to be dangerous for your heart.

07 : SEVEN.

There’s been an empty feeling in your heart since yesterday that you were trying to ignore.

It was currently the day after you returned to the city. You watched the bustling streets of urban life filter through the car’s tinted windows while Changbin continued to drive you back home after a busy day in the company. Something you had never expected to happen was getting attached to the small countryside town you filmed in enough to miss it like this.

You felt it when you stepped out of the car yesterday to head back to your apartment—the polished concrete floors of the parking building suddenly felt foreign to you. The abundance of luxury cars was evident in the space, reminding you that you were once again in the city. It felt almost cold and lonely with the way you couldn’t see the hills you got used to seeing all day long. But it would do, you think to yourself.

The city could also be warm if you wanted it to be.

“Oh? I think they’re filming the first scenes of the movie in a building around here,” Changbin pointed out from the driver’s seat. “Minho mentioned this street a day ago.”

You raised a brow at his words. “Since when did you and Seungmin’s manager get so close?”

“Ever since you and his talent did,” Changbin snickers.

Heat rose to your face at your manager’s teasing. It was no secret to anyone who witnessed the movie’s shoot that you and Seungmin got extremely close after the fainting incident. You were sure that his efforts to stop the filming from continuing that day was also the talk of the town with the crew members. After all, who would go so far as to pay for rescheduling costs for their co-star? Sure, you and Seungmin were friends, but the two of you were barely talking in the first few days of the project. Anyone in their right mind would find his actions out of the blue—just like you did too.

Maybe it was just Seungmin’s way of making up for all the things you both went through. At first, it made you mad at how he flaunted his blatant disregard for the people affected by his decisions. The image of younger Seungmin came to mind, triggering the part of you that still held a slight resentment for what he did before. However, you found yourself slowly changing your mind as you two apologized to the crew members for the sudden decision, promising them swift and quality scenes the next day. As Seungmin walked you back to your inn’s room, you couldn’t help but feel a tinge of happiness bubble in your stomach at the thought of someone caring enough to do this for you.

You watched as the evident signs of a film crew appeared in the distance, right in front of an office building. The same tents you’ve come to familiarize yourself with stood strong, indicating that this was indeed filming the same movie you were working on. It was already early in the evening, so they should be wrapping up any time soon. Should you stop by and say hello?

“Do you want to stop by and visit? You don’t have any schedules left for the rest of the evening,” Changbin suggests, getting ready to park near the building if you give confirmation.

Maybe you could repay Seungmin for his support over the past few days by visiting him. You smile at the thought of catching him off-guard.

“Sure, why not?”

The summer air of June was starting to make itself present despite already cooling significantly due to the sun saying its goodbyes an hour or two ago. Bright lights scattered across the vast street, a mixture of car lights, building lights, and streetlights morphing into the familiar image of a city that everyone knew. You walked towards the set peacefully, effectively going under the radar with a black mask covering your face. It was just a few steps more until you reached the barricade, when a familiar voice called out your name.

“Y/N?” Eunha squinted her eyes to determine if it really was you, only for you to watch them widen in surprise when her conclusion was proven correct. “Oh, it is you!”

You waved as you got closer. “Hi, Eunha. I saw you guys while passing by and thought I’d give you a visit,” you say shyly. Eunha beamed at your explanation.

“That’s so sweet of you; you’re always welcomed here!” She gives you a hug, quickly separating to drag you over the barricade. “Come on, I’ll show you to the others.”

Witnessing the set as a visitor was interesting. Despite the multiple people that greeted you on the way, it still felt as if you were an outsider with a V.I.P. pass to tour the set. Normally, you would be somewhere near the center, where the main scene was going to be shot. So staying back and watching the other crew members do their own things on the outskirts of that area was a new experience. In a way, you felt giddy like a child on a field trip.

“Actress Y/N is here!”

Eunha’s ecstatic voice traveled throughout the main area of the set, catching the attention of the directors, who had a figure you knew all too well standing right beside them. His eyes snapped up from the monitor D.O.P. Bang was showing him, eyes searching around for yours. Once he caught sight of your face, his eyes lit up.

“Y/N?”

If anyone asks, you totally weren’t checking him out. The clean black office suit he was wearing was incredibly flattering on his features, along with the formal brush-up the hairstylists put his hair in. You had only seen him with his hair down for the past few days—with his character supposedly portraying the look of someone who was comfortably back home to rest. And while that Seungmin was also objectively handsome, the way his hair was framing his face right now was stirring something more inside of you. Swallowing the feeling away, you straightened yourself.

“Hi, Seungmin.” You laughed. “Missed me?”

Seungmin abandoned his post with the directors and sped towards you. “Why are you here? It’s getting late,” he says, worried. Seungmin lets his eyes wander behind you for a second before a frown finds its way to his face. “And where’s that damned manager of yours?” You sighed at his obvious complaint.

“When are you going to let down on Changbin?” You say, unamused. “I swear, he means well. I came from the company, so he’s guarding the car since it’s just on hazard.”

“Still—” Seungmin tries to argue, only to be cut off by you waving your finger like he had been a bad child.

“Stop that. We talked about your coddling.”

He clicks his tongue in disapproval. “Maybe I’d stop once you actually learn how to take care of yourself.”

A series of claps interrupted the conversation you two were having. “Okay, break it up, lovebirds,” Minho says while inserting himself between you two. “It’s so nice to see you again, Actress Y/N. But we have a crew celebration dinner to attend, so I’ll borrow Seungmin first over here.”

Your co-star resists his manager, staying firmly on spot to prove a point. “Wait, I’ll walk her back to her car first.” Minho gave him an odd look.

“What do you mean walk her back?” He questions. “She’s attending. You just need to get changed out of that suit.” It was your turn to look confused.

“Huh?”

That was how you suddenly found yourself sitting at a long barbecue restaurant table with the other female crew members, silently listening to their energetic conversations while downing as much meat as you could. You didn’t know if this was a curse or a blessing in disguise, but you would surely regret it if you didn’t make the most of what was handed to you. Free food is still free food, even if it was a sponteneous invitation from the directors.

“I’m so happy we finished filming!” The woman assigned to your makeup, Yerin, said aloud. “Now it's those computer bastards’ turn to slave away.”

You couldn’t help but feel guilty for a portion of her hardships. “Once again, I apologize for all the trouble I caused you on set.” You slightly bowed while still sitting. “Hopefully, it will be better the next time we get to work together.” Yerin only waved off your apology.

“Oh, please—don’t be such a worrywart! Having you on set was a delight,” she squeals. “Plus, we had a blast seeing the development between you and Actor Kim Seungmin.” Eunha’s face quickly turned into one of horror.

“Yerin!”

You paled at her words. “I’m sorry, what?”

What did she mean by that? The inside of your mind turned into a battlefield at Yerin’s implication. Your eyes immediately turned to search for Changbin, feeling the need to inform him of a possible issue in the near future. In your experience in the industry, scandals always started like this. You didn’t want this to affect Seungmin’s career negatively, so it was always better to prepare early than late.

“Don’t listen to her, Y/N,” Eunha frantically says, trying to get a hold of her co-worker. “She’s just drunk.”

Yerin pushed her hands away, albeit weakly. “Eunha, stop being such a party pooper,” she whines. “We all know they’re dating now. Oh, our crew has tight lips, though! We won’t sell you guys or something.” That didn’t ease the panic that had already formed in your stomach.

“We’re not dating.”

You could only watch as Yerin’s showed genuine shock at your revelation. “Wait, for real?” She gasps. “That’s too bad. You two look great together!”

“Yerin, seriously!”

“Sorry, I’ll just go get some fresh air.” You excused yourself as politely as you could before standing up to head out the front door.

The now-cooled air pricked at your skin, making you breathe a bit more easily than in the humid interior of the restaurant. You lowered yourself to the narrow road’s curbside, choosing to sit down and admire the quiet neighborhood’s lights. It felt a lot better out here than inside, making you feel guilty for not enjoying the celebration more than you should have as one of the main characters for the project.

If you had refused, it would’ve been a bad look. You didn’t have a schedule for the night to use as a reason, and lying to the people who gave you the opportunity to work on your biggest project yet was out of the question. At the same time, you think of what you would’ve been doing instead if you had said no to their dinner offer. Laying down in your apartment while eating takeout wasn’t such a bad scene. The sliding of the aged wooden door brought you out of your thoughts.

“See? Just what I said,” a monotonous voice pointed out. “No self-preservation skills whatsoever.”

You rolled your eyes at the comment. “It’s just the outside of a family-owned barbecue establishment, Seungmin. There’s practically no one out here at this time.”

“Does that not make it worse?” He gave you a look of disapproval, crouching down slowly to join you on the curbside. “You have a knack for making people worry, do you?”

“Then stop worrying!” You snapped—his words reminding you of the situation you had just fled from to find peace.

Seungmin raised his hands in surrender. “Woah,” he exclaims. “Alright, something is clearly wrong. Talk to me.”

You could only turn away, feeling yourself unable to face him. It was an awkward subject to bring up, and you told yourself that Yerin had already promised that the crew was tight-lipped. Objectively, there was nothing more left for you to worry about. Subjectively, the implication bothered you. Seungmin furrowed his eyebrows at your reaction.

“Hey,” he calls out softly. “Did someone say something to you back there? You know I can beat them up, right?”

You grimaced at his attempts to comfort you. “You’re so violent,” you frowned. “What if it was a woman?”

“Oh, then I’m out of that. Sorry.”

“So full of shit, that’s what you are.”

Seungmin chuckled. “And that I am,” he replies, amused. “But seriously, I’m all ears if you want.”

A bitter taste announced its presence on your tongue, your mind forming a whirlpool of thoughts once again. “Why? Since we’re friends?” You spat out.

The space around you turned silent with Seungmin’s lack of response. You fought the urge to give him a discrete glance, just to see the damage you created. It took a few more seconds of the evening breeze being the only one talking between you two before Seungmin eventually spoke up.

“I’ll let you in on a secret,” he says in a low voice while running a hand through his hair to pull it back. His hairstyle from earlier was long gone, leaving you to wonder how he got rid of the hairspray so easily. “I actually don’t like that we’re friends.”

He watched as you deflated rapidly at his confession.

“Not in that way!” Seungmin splutters. “It’s just that I—ugh.” He brought up a palm to rub across his face.

Now, you were lost. The path of where the conversation was going became lost to you, making you stand in uncharted territory. Seungmin stayed silent for a few more seconds, trying to collect his thoughts. You let him have the time.

“You might curse at me for this or even put a distance between ourselves. But since this is our last day seeing each other on set until the movie’s release, I’ll take the chance now before I end up regretting I didn’t.”

“Seungmin, what—”

“The thought of staying just friends with you has been bothering me for a while now. It was like I was subjecting myself to my own personalized torture, where I couldn’t get away even if I tried. I’m still not sure what this entirely means for me—for us, but what I know is that platonic would never satisfy me at this rate.” He purses his lips, contemplating how to continue.

Eventually, Seungmin raised his head slightly to meet your eyes. “It’s odd. Admittedly, I’ve had my fair share of romantic relationships in the past, yet none of them could compare to what I was feeling now. At first, I thought it was just an obsession with you. Something that stemmed from my previous interest in you back at our senior level of academy—”

“You had a what?”

“I know,” he laughs humorlessly. “My friends used to tease me that I had a crush; that was why I was bothering you so much. Back then, I just brushed them off as jokes, telling them I only saw you as a rival. Well, look where that ended up.”

You were frozen in shock at his confession. “Seungmin,” you start. “I don’t know what to say.” He shakes his head.

“You don’t have to. Just let me have this moment to pour everything out,” he says. “Y/N, to put it into words, I feel at ease when I’m with you. At the same time, it always felt as if I was constantly worried about when it would end. That I would be left on my own again once you had finished your business with me. I tried to reason with myself, to put an acceptable distance between us in the case that what I had wasn’t the best for you. But I couldn’t do it, Y/N. Every time your voice entered my ears, it was like becoming a child. Unable to control their emotions and doing things without a second thought just because it felt like the right thing to do at the moment.” Seungmin looks up to the sky.

“That kiss we had—I think it was the happiest I’ve been in a while. It might have been just a job to you, because you could say it really was, but for me, it was finally a chance to express everything I had been holding back for the past few days. All I want you to remember is that nothing from that act was faked,” he exhales. “I really don’t think this is something you feel for a friend, so—”

“Let’s see where this takes us.”

“—What?”

“I’m not sure how you expect me to top what you just told me, but I’ll try with my own words.” You teased him with a genuine smile. “Seungmin, I feel strikingly similar to what you feel about me. Just maybe not as intensely yet.”

You let yourself move at the need to cup his face as he continues to look at you in shock. “I’m sure you already know that I spent quite a long time hating your guts, so the fact that I even started to feel an attraction towards you was shocking, to say the least. I was never one to believe in fictional tropes, despite my lifelong yearning to experience a love like that even once. As an actor, I’ve made a career out of acting those scenes out for people to see. But also as an actor, I knew more than anyone else how much real life would never be able to compare to the scripts I’ve seen brought to life on set. They were methodological, a feeling so carefully put together to achieve its maximum potential—real life isn’t like that.” You inhale deeply.

“Things happen for no reason, like they don’t for no reason either. And in a way, I felt both with you.” Your hands lowered themselves towards his hands to hold them tightly. “Enemies-to-lovers? It was laughable at first, but as the days went on, everything just fell into place as if it always belonged there. You feel like a child in front of me? I feel like I’ve never felt warmth in my entire life until you came along. When I first got out of the car yesterday, it was only then that I described urban life as cold and lonely in my entire life. I thought that maybe it was because I got too attached to the homey feel of the countryside that everything I’ve ever known somehow became foreign in a few days. But maybe it was just because of you.”

You found yourself giggling at the dumbfounded look he still had on his face, mind slow to take in what was happening in front of him. “What I’m saying is that I would love to see where this takes us. Right now, you can’t expect me to fall in love all of a sudden, especially considering our past. Though if you try hard enough, perhaps that might be just around the corner. What do you say?” Seungmin finally broke free from his trance, eyes watering.

“I’ll show you hard work that you’ve never seen before in your life.”

“And I believe it.” You pinch his cheek before standing up. “Now, let’s go back inside? The party is still ongoing.”

Seungmin clumsily follows, calling out just in time before you opened the door. “Wait—I still don’t have your number.” You gave him an astounded stare.

“Seriously?” You breathe out. “We went through all that, and we still don’t have each other’s numbers?”

Seungmin voices out his offense. “Well, I’m sorry that I was missing all my shots!”

“So, does that mean you’re gonna take a shot now, loverboy?”

“For you, yes.”

taglist 🔖— thank you for waiting ! 🫶

@fairyki @hysgf @euncsace @comet-falls @starlostseungmin @ameliesaysshoo @hyunverse @djeniryuu @lixxpix @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @feelikecinderella @abbiestearsricochet @heelovesmeknot @floating-moon-dust @yoontaethings @hwangism143 @jazziesssss @hwangflora @vixensss @yourlocalstayyxi @dollce-exe @bambispostsblog @authentic-65 @dandelions-143

[princesskenny1998]

Big Mouth | Judd Birch x female!preppy!reader ~ Babysitter, PT.2

It was another quiet evening at the Birch household, and once again, you found yourself babysitting Nick Birch and his best friend, Andrew Glouberman. You’d gotten used to their quirky personalities by now—the strange debates about puberty, their awkward jokes, and the occasional outbursts of weird questions that caught you off guard. It wasn’t the easiest babysitting job, but it paid well, and honestly, there were worse ways to spend a Saturday night.

As Nick and Andrew busied themselves with a new video game, you settled into the oversized armchair in the living room, scrolling through your phone. The evening was uneventful, the boys occupied and the house quiet, except for the occasional exclamation from the two of them when one beat the other in the game.

You almost started to relax, thinking tonight would be smooth sailing, but then you heard it—heavy footsteps coming from the hallway. Your stomach flipped in recognition.

Judd Birch.

The last time you had seen him, he had left an impression that had stuck with you all week. You couldn’t shake the memory of his dark, brooding eyes, the way his leather jacket hung off his broad shoulders, or the smirk that made your heart race. Since then, your Hormone Monstress had been practically buzzing in your ear non-stop, urging you to see him again, to do something about the crush that was rapidly spiraling out of control.

"Oh my God, babe, he's back! Are you ready for this?" your Hormone Monstress purred, her voice dripping with excitement. "We need to get him alone. Just imagine the things he could do to you…"

You tried to ignore her, feeling your face flush as you heard the footsteps getting closer. You told yourself to stay cool, to act like you didn’t care, but the truth was, you were anything but calm. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and you felt like you were on edge, waiting for something to happen.

Then, just as you expected, Judd appeared at the entrance to the living room.

“Yo,” he greeted you, his voice low and casual, like he hadn’t noticed the way your breath hitched when you saw him. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, his expression unreadable. “Babysitting again, huh?”

You swallowed, trying to keep your voice steady. “Yeah. Same as last time.”

Judd’s eyes flickered over to Nick and Andrew, who were still engrossed in their game. He smirked, then turned his attention back to you. “Must be pretty boring.”

You shrugged, trying to act nonchalant even though your mind was spinning. “It's not too bad.”

There was a pause, and you could feel Judd’s gaze lingering on you. It made your skin tingle, a mixture of nerves and excitement bubbling up inside you. You wanted to say something—anything—to keep the conversation going, but your brain seemed to be short-circuiting. Thankfully, your Hormone Monstress had no such problem.

"Girl, he is looking at you. Like, not just looking, he is undressing you with his eyes. He knows you’re into him. Go on, talk to him, keep the conversation going, babe."

You shifted in your seat, feeling awkward under the weight of her words. “Do you, um, need to watch Nick sometimes, too?”

Judd’s smirk widened, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Me? Nah. Not really my thing.” He glanced at you again, then added, “But maybe I’ll start hanging around more often.”

You felt your heart skip a beat at the implication in his words, and your Hormone Monstress practically squealed in delight. "Oh, we are so close. Just keep playing it cool, babe. He’s into you, I can feel it."

You bit your lip, trying to suppress the smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Well, you know, it’s not always boring. Sometimes watching them is actually pretty entertaining.”

Judd raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by your attempt to make small talk. “Yeah? Like what are they doing then?”

You racked your brain for something witty to say, but before you could come up with anything, Nick’s parents came home. Nick and Andrew ran off to greet them, leaving you alone with Judd for a moment longer.

Mrs. Birch entered the living room, smiling warmly at you as she thanked you for watching the boys again. Turning her head towards her eldest son, she spoke again. “I’m so sorry to ask, Juddie, but it’s gotten pretty late. Would you mind driving [Y/N] home? I wouldn’t feel comfortable sending her out alone at this hour.”

Your eyes widened, and you couldn’t help but glance at Judd, who was watching you with that same unreadable expression but nodding. Judd… driving me home?

Your Hormone Monstress practically screamed with excitement. "This is perfect! A ride home with Judd Birch? We couldn’t have planned this better ourselves! Ohhh you could hook up in the car, oh my gawd!"

You nodded quickly, flushing beet red but trying not to let your nerves show. “If Judd is okay with that, then that’s fine by me, too.”

Mrs. Birch smiled gratefully and waved the younger boys goodnight as Judd grabbed his keys and motioned for you to follow him. You walked out to his beat-up car, your heart pounding in your chest. The cool night air did nothing to calm you down as you slid into the passenger seat, feeling the tension between you and Judd rise with each passing second, as you told him your address.

He started the car, the engine rumbling to life, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. You stared out the window, trying to act like this was totally normal and not the most nerve-wracking moment of your life.

Then, Judd broke the silence.

“So,” he said, his voice casual, “you babysit a lot, huh?”

You glanced over at him, surprised by how relaxed he seemed. “Yeah, it’s, um… it’s good money.”

Judd chuckled, the sound low and almost… teasing. “Bet it is. You must be pretty popular with the parents, huh?”

You blinked, not sure what he meant by that. “I guess?”

Judd glanced over at you for a second, his eyes flicking down to your legs before he looked back at the road. “Yeah, I can see why.”

Your face flushed, heat rising to your cheeks. Was he… flirting with you? No, it couldn’t be. He was probably just teasing you, right?

Your Hormone Monstress was having none of it. "Oh no, babe, he’s definitely flirting. And you’re going to flirt right back. Just give him something to work with. It’s Judd Birch, for crying out loud! I mean just look at those hands, how he's gripping the steering wheel, think about how they would feel wrapped around your pretty little neck~"

You swallowed hard, your mind racing as you tried to come up with a response. “I don’t know if babysitting makes me popular, but… I do a pretty good job, I guess.”

Judd laughed again, a little softer this time. “Yeah? I’m sure you do.”

There was another pause, and you could feel the tension thickening in the small space of the car. Every time Judd glanced at you, your heart sped up, and your Hormone Monstress practically purred with delight.

As you neared your house, Judd slowed the car down and pulled over in front of your driveway. He turned off the engine but didn’t make a move to unlock the doors. Instead, he leaned back in his seat, his gaze settling on you with an intensity that made your stomach do flips.

“So,” he said, his voice low and a little teasing, “you’re a preppy girl, huh?”

You blinked, thrown off by the sudden shift in the conversation. “What?”

Judd smirked, his eyes glinting with amusement. “I’ve seen you around. Always so put-together. Nice clothes, perfectly styled hair. Kinda… preppy.”

Your cheeks burned, and you fidgeted in your seat, unsure how to respond. “I guess I am. Is that… bad?”

Judd shook his head, his smirk widening. “Nah. Not bad. Just… different.”

You bit your lip, your mind racing with a million different thoughts. Did he like you? Was he teasing you? Did he think you were some stuck-up rich girl, or was this his way of flirting?

Your Hormone Monstress was practically vibrating with excitement. "He likes you! He’s playing it cool, but he’s into you, babe. Come on, say something! Flirt back!"

But you were too nervous, too inexperienced to know what to say. Instead, you just sat there, your heart pounding in your chest as Judd continued to look at you, his gaze never wavering.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Judd leaned forward, unlocking the doors with a casual click. “Well, better get inside before your parents think I’m kidnapping you or something.”

You managed a small laugh, though your voice came out shakier than you’d intended. “Yeah, wouldn’t want that.”

Judd smirked again, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer before he nodded toward your house. “See you around, Preppy.”

You blushed at the nickname, your heart still racing as you grabbed your bag and opened the door. As you stepped out of the car, you couldn’t help but glance back at Judd one last time, your pulse quickening when you saw him watching you.

You walked up to your front door, your legs feeling like jelly, and as soon as you were inside, you collapsed against the wall, your heart still pounding in your chest.

Your Hormone Monstress let out a triumphant laugh. "Oh, babe, we are so going to see him again. He’s into you. This is only the beginning."

And somehow, deep down, you knew she was right.

[thr0wnawayy]

Chapter 429 has been my Dabi's Dance

I can't stop smiling.

I wanted to start off by saying thank you. Not to Hori, but to you all. Every last one of you in these tags for your contributions. Be it analysis, re-reads, fan works or simply your perspectives. I look forward to seeing what you will make in the future.

So, Thank you.

I suppose I should start at the beginning. MHA was always in the background of my life and I hated it. I don't watch anime and yet still MHA related media would make it's way onto my socials in all it's obnoxious forms. This went on for years.

And then suddenly, it stopped. It seemed like MHA's craze had died down, I'd still see it from time to time through merchandise but never to the consistency it had prior.

That was until Dabi's Dance was published and the net went wild.

I knew a few things about Endeavor from my past exposure, he was universally hated and abused his kids and wife (to the point she scalded her son in a fit of psychosis).

Deciding I had nothing better to do, I found myself searching to see what kind of consequences would befall such a monstrous character.

Would he fall like Icarus, be torn apart by the public, how would the family he ruined react to the news?.

And then, nothing. No punishment, no reaction. Just dead air.

I recall that my face dropped internally. My blank expression mirrored my phone screen's sterile nature, as it displayed the information in front of me.

He got away with it. So I did some digging and it got so much worse.

Bakugo's evasion of any consequences or damages, coddled and shielded by Hori's inability to go through on anything.

Hawks who murdered a near crippled man on a hypothesis, for the mere crime of having the "wrong" quirk, for not giving up, for being "unlucky"

Aizawa, Hori's little mouthpiece. who decides to play judge, jury and executioner with the futures of students he's supposed to be teaching. Only for the Nedzu and the narrative to allow him, his friends turned into lapdogs that agree to the letter.

The Commission who strive to keep theirrotting husk of a system alive through assasins, child soldiers and indoctrination.

Even if it's gears must be lubricated with blood, even if it means lying to the world and having them clean up the mess. They MUST stay on top, the illusion must be upheld.

I just couldn't fathom how this was seen as a good thing.

And somewhere along the way I began to feel something akin to hate. Not your typical ire, one powered by anger, no.

I wanted to see how low Hori would go, just how horrifically he would mangle a series that everyone had once praised.

I wanted to witness what wonders a jaded community would create, to show what they were capable of (to create and understand MHA in a manner Hori wishes he could even emulate a fraction of)

I wished to see your own expressions of love and hatred.

The thought of witnessing the breaking point, the dust settling to expose all the glaring flaws and infested wounds of MHA. It buzzed in my brain like electricity.

The idea that when all was said and done, you, the people would do what Hori couldn't/wouldn't and forge the bones and salvagble bits of MHA into a story worth remembering.

One where abusers are punished for their crimes instead of rewarded

Where victims can have a voice, feel and grow, carve their own paths and move forward from their trauma.

Where the implications of MHA's rotting and disingenuous society get explored instead of swept under the rug

Where people get a chance.

I waited eagerly for the day it would all fall apart.

So, do you know what I did when I logged onto the tag and saw your posts!?.

I laughed, the shrill giggle in the back of my throat quickly surging into an almost manic cackle. It was like lightning, vindicating and sobering all at once. My face was stretched to it's absolute limits with how wide my grin was. I could almost hear the shattering of MHA's last bit of integrity and I loved it.

The realization MHA's greatest threat was the author himself, It's one that I grasped long ago (as far back as the Dark Dekiru Arc) and I'm sure most of you understood this as well.

But to see that more of you are starting to get it, to realize there's no going back. That as the curtains draw near and the lights begin to dim, there is no other side here. Violence begets violence and Hori's gone past the event horizon.

It feels, hopeful. Perhaps we can build something worth saving.

It's been a wild ride so far and it's still ongoing. Hori's time is long over, it has been for a while now, so I suppose what I'm asking Is:

Now It's Your Turn, what's your play?

_______________________________________

Update:

IT'S FINALLY HAPPENING!

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Bela + Morning/Aftercare

Not requested, just felt like giving myself a prompt. This was originally just Bela + Morning but my brain kinda shifted it, so oops, guess this technically isn't a one word prompt fill anymore. Features a gender-neutral reader, Bela's implied to be your wife (I don't think I used the word, but y'all have rings), and there's the heavy implication that the two of you fucked the night before (maybe a bit roughly, at that, but she is a vampire lady, so...).

Under read-more for length, at 1200 words.

-----

Always being the first to wake had its perks, at times, even if it often meant overcoming pangs of loneliness. Most mornings have Bela going for a short walk, then perhaps taking care of a few things for her slumbering siblings and mother. Other times she simply used the opportunity to relax in peace. Today was one of the latter days, and for good reason, her body still pressed tightly against you, the soft blanket your only protection from the cool morning air.

Last night had been… eventful, for the two of you. Undoubtedly you would eventually awaken to find yourself sore, perhaps with a few light bruises, but with the bite on your shoulder freshly bandaged. Bela never neglected aftercare. Most of it had occurred before you fell asleep, of course, some tasks simply bear repeating now.

Carefully, slowly, Bela untangles herself from the sheets, leaving a gentle kiss on your brow when you instinctively reach out for her. All the air in her lungs becomes pointless at the sight of your sleeping smile. Even in the depths of your dreams, her touch was something to savor, a source of great comfort. Bearing a grin of her own, she forces herself to turn towards the ensuite. She’d get to admire you plenty while taking care of your scratches.

Glancing down at her nails, she can’t help but pause, inspecting the dried blood under the edge. Perhaps her grip on your back had been tighter than she remembered. Making a mental note to grab some soothing salve from the cupboard, she quickly cleans up by the sink. It’s not thorough, mostly just taming her hair and washing off the aforementioned dried blood, but she fully intended to save her bath for when you can join her.

By the time she returns to bed, you’ve started to stir. Briefly, your eyes open, squinting up at your beloved, and you offer her a meek murmur for a greeting. With the way you look at her, but don’t quite see her, Bela can only assume that you aren’t truly awake yet. Allowing herself a chuckle, she sets up her medkit next to your weary form. Ever so gently she sets about removing the temporary bandage from your shoulder. Instantly the scent of dried blood hits her, making her dizzy for a split second, and she looks at your bite marks with both pride and desire.

Part of her is eager to bite again, to further mark you as her own. But she quashes those instincts, suppresses them, knowing that there is no need to be so possessive. Not only are you loyal in your affections, the ring on your finger makes it clear to others that you are her partner. When she leans in close, it is not to reopen wounds. Instead, she allows herself a single, slow lick. Not much comes from it, the metallic taste less strong than she preferred, yet it still sends a shiver of pleasure down her spine.

“My sweet darling,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to your collarbone before beginning to dab a wet cloth against the bite. Each touch is gentle, soothing, only barely enough pressure to clean the dried blood. Bela begins humming one of her mother’s songs as she works. It’s a light melody, flowing and curling around itself, that fills the air with a pleasant buzz. “There we go, much better,” she speaks, applying an antibacterial cream, continuing her humming until the bandage is in place.

At last, you stir further, blinking up at her with growing awareness. Something warm blossoms in Bela’s chest when she sees how quickly you light up at the sight of her. Immediately your hands are reaching for her, wanting to cup her face or intertwine your fingers with hers. The first she allows, the latter she pulls back from, making a clear display of wiping her hands off on a spare cloth. No need to get medicine all over your hand. With the way you pout, she wants nothing more than to kiss you until you’re both desperate for air.

“Soon, draga mea, let me finish tending your wounds, understood?” Bela says, taking on a playfully stern tone. Although it takes a moment for you to process her words, having forgotten the ache of your body until now, your pout soon subsides. Then you cautiously shift, allowing her easier access to the pattern work of scratches across your back. “Very good.” This time her voice is more intimate, reminiscent of the night before, sending blood rushing to your cheeks. Once more she kisses your skin, this time where the back of your neck meets your shoulder.

“I love you,” you murmur, voice muffled by the pillow you cling to. Naturally, it’s the same pillow that Bela had been laying against half an hour ago. Your own was pushed off to the side, forgotten, teetering dangerously close to the mattress’ edge. The sight amuses Bela, and she has to stifle a chuckle, lest you think she’s laughing at your affection instead.

“And I love you. Now hold still, this may sting but for a moment, then the pain will fade,” she explains, a smile evident in the curl of her words. She waits for you to give a hum of acknowledgment before beginning to rub the salve into the skin of your back. True to her word, it has a slight burn, but it’s not enough to make you wince or whimper. Compared to the pain you gladly endured for her love-bites, this was hardly even a nuisance. If anything… the feeling of Bela’s touch, the gentle kneading of your flesh, is rather pleasant. Of course she notices, and leans down to murmur something teasing in Romanian.

Even if you don’t understand the specifics, you get the gist, and once again feel heat rushing to your face. This time Bela does not try to hide her laughter, the sound almost lilting. It’s bright. Warm. Entirely perfect, just as she is to you.

A few minutes pass, far too quickly for your liking, before you hear the sound of the medicinal jar closing with a satisfying click. For a moment, Bela makes no move. It’s not until you try to turn to look at her that she shifts, a hand on your shoulder keeping you down, the feeling of her breath fanning against your neck making you freeze. Pleased with your obedience, Bela releases you with a soft hum. Then she slips into bed next to you, in a familiar position, gesturing for you to lay on top of her.

“Come closer, draga mea, let me savor your warmth while the salve does its job. We can bathe once the medicine is absorbed,” Bela explains, and you start obeying before she even finishes speaking. As you curl against her, ensuring your back remains off of the bed, she quickly glances at the clock. Good, she muses, still plenty of time before breakfast. 

Yes, there are many perks to being such an early riser. The grandest of which is that she can enjoy this time with you, her duties fulfilled, her only work left to care and cherish her darling.

[lets-just-daydream]

Hello!! I absolutely love your writing and I love the way you write astarion! I wanted to request an astarion x reader where the reader is a virgin and he pauses before doing anything bc he feels like he’s tainted many peoples firsts when he brought them to cazador and feels like he doesn’t deserve it 🥺

you all are KILLING IT with these requests I'm having so much fun 😭😭😭 and thanks so much, I'm glad you think I write him well!

Finally writing smut for Astarion! Been a while since I've written smut so I hope this doesn't suck. I tried my best to make this gender neutral!

*

It was the first big thing you'd accomplished in what you felt like would be more work to do before actually getting these stupid tadpoles out of your brains. Since crashing the nautiloid ship it's been full speed ahead with hardly any respite.

You'd come to an agreement between the Druids and Tieflings and the latter had decided they wanted to celebrate. Who were you to say no? You could certainly use an evening to let loose and judging by your rowdy companions dancing and laughing with the Tieflings, they were in need of this, too.

But, you noticed one pale elf missing from the mix of cheery bodies. You looked around until you spotted him in front of his tent, drinking wine and staring across the camp at everyone with a sour look on his face. As he looked around, his eyes met yours and his expression softened, offering you a smile that you couldn't help but return.

Of course you couldn't help it. He was gorgeous and you, foolishly in his mind, latched onto every bit of attention he gave you. It was so easy. A smile here, a well-placed compliment there, some flirting sprinkled in and you had practically fallen for him. Tonight he would begin the next step in his plan - seek you out for a late night tryst and further cement himself into your affections.

As he knew you would, you wandered over to him and struck up a conversation. You had had some drinks and were feeling pleasantly buzzed, enjoying chatting with Astarion, your gaze lingering on his lips and raking over his body, wondering what it would be like to have sex with him. Astarion noticed your clumsy staring and preened internally. This was perfect.

"This party is fine, I suppose," Astarion eventually said. "But I prefer… other forms of entertainment."

You stared at him, a brow raised. "What kind of entertainment?"

Astarion stepped forward and brushed your hair away from your ear, leaning in to whisper. "The more… carnal sort," he whispered, sending a violent shiver down your spine.

"Oh," you breathed. "I-I'm sure you could find someone to…"

You looked around at the camp and then back at Astarion who only offered you a smirk and half-lidded gaze. "I think I already have."

You gulped, your cheeks and body flushing with heat at his implication. He wanted to have sex with you? You didn't think you could say no to his offer but he was clearly experienced. Obviously, with you being the complete opposite. Worried that you would make a fool of yourself if you went through with this, you faltered and opened your mouth to decline his offer when he stepped forward, took your hand and pressed it to his lips.

"Come find me in the woods, later. After everyone has retired for the night," Astarion whispered against your skin before dropping your hand and turning to enter his tent.

After the laughter and drinking had died down and your companions and guests retired for the evening, you sat in front of the fire, fidgeting and biting your lip in anticipation. You'd been stuck in your own mind ever since your conversation with Astarion. You very much desired him and very much wanted to go through with this but you were still nervous.

You looked around at the rest of camp and shivered before joining the rest of the party. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't shake your conversation with Astarion from your mind. Your companions noted that you were a little scatterbrained or not quite all there. You apologised and chalked it up to the wine you'd all been indulging in.

Fuck it. You had a tadpole on your head, you were on a huge adventure and you could die tomorrow. What could be better than losing your virginity to a super hot vampire?

Now more confident, you strolled into the woods to search for Astarion and get this party rolling. You stepped lightly and you heard a twig breaking as Astarion alerted you to his presence. Turning to look at him, you realised he was shirtless and you couldn't help the way your heart jolted a little. You were really going to do this.

"There you are," Astarion said smoothly. "I've been waiting for you. I almost thought you weren't going to show."

He made a show of a small pout as he stepped closer toward you.

"I'm here now," you said, trying to make sure your voice didn't waver.

"That you are," Astarion replied, finally reaching you and wrapping his arms around you.

He pressed his lips against yours hungrily and you nearly reeled back from the intensity but his hand snaked up the back of your neck and held you in place as he ravaged your lips.

You let out a slight moan and he claimed your lips entirely, sliding his tongue inside to taste every inch of you.

His other hand slid to grip your hip and pull you flush against him. You gulped, feeling his arousal against you and you pulled back, breathing in the night air.

"I've been waiting for this, you know," Astarion said, his fingers delicately brushing against your neck. "Waiting to taste you. Waiting to have you."

"Oh…" You shuddered.

That didn't help to quell the nervousness you felt. You hoped you weren't going to disappoint him, so you put on a brave face and met his smirk with a smile of your own. "I could say the same."

You wrapped your arms around Astarion's neck and he grabbed you and laid you down on the ground. He pulled one of your arms from around him and kissed the inside of your wrist, trailing up your arm as he kept his eyes on your face, drinking in every expression you made. You were already putty in his hands and you couldn't know his devious plan, but it was all working out perfectly.

He shimmied down your body and kissed the slightly exposed skin just above your pants before pulling them down. Your breathing hitched and you tried to keep it together as Astarion removed your clothes and left you lying naked and bare below him. He gave you a smirk as he stood and discarded the rest of his clothes before kneeling above you, softly placing his hand on your neck.

You let out a soft whine as his other hand pumped his length, lining himself up with your entrance.

He gazed at your face as you tried to hide the nervousness on your face, your heart pounding in your chest. He pushed in slowly and you winced at the dull, aching pain. You inhaled a sharp breath as you squeezed your eyes shut.

"Now, now darling," Astarion said smoothly. "Don't go all shy on me."

You opened your eyes and tried to maintain your composure as he pushed in further but you let out a squeal and tears brimmed in your eyes.

At this, Astarion halted his movements and his eyes narrowed at you, trying to connect the dots. At the realisation of what was happening, he slowly pulled out and you let out a soft whine. Partly grateful the pressure had stopped, but partly because it also felt a little bit good.

Astarion stared at you as he sat back on his knees, his hands on his thighs. You could see the gears turning in his head as he frowned.

"Is this your first time?" Astarion asked.

You glanced at the trees beyond him, too embarrassed to make eye contact. But that was all the answer he needed.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He asked. You figured he was angry but he sounded more… sad. Conflicted, even.

"I don't know," you whispered. "I didn't think it was such a big deal."

You didn't want to tell him that the real reason was because you were worried he'd laugh at you. At your inexperience.

Astarion let out a soft sigh before speaking again. "I'm… not the person you want to share this moment with, trust me."

You sat up and shook your head, taking his hand in your own.

"If I didn't want it to be you, I wouldn't be here. I know we haven't known each other long but… I do like you. And I trust you," you said with a soft smile.

You saw his expression falter for a moment, he looked… sad. He paused, deep in thought before his usual smile returned.

"Well, if you're certain you want to continue," Astarion said. "Let me treat you properly."

He leaned forward and you laid on your back again, Astarion hovering above you, his lips barely touching yours.

"Tell me if it gets too much," he whispered against your skin before pressing his lips to yours in a deep, slow kiss. "And tell me if you change your mind."

You wrapped your arms around him and you both froze for a moment when you felt… scars? On his back. You weren't sure and you were about to verbalise your confusion when he buried his face in your neck and gave it a slight nip, distracting you. He then brought his fingers up to your lips and you looked at him confused before he came up for air and simply said. "Suck them."

You opened your mouth and complied with his demand, sucking his fingers until they were properly coated with your saliva. He pulled his fingers from your mouth and stared into your eyes as he lowered them to your entrance, easing them in gently.

"Trust me, I need to do this," he said.

You nodded and your grip on him tightened as you spread your legs slightly, a huff escaping your lips as he worked you open. It felt tight and almost uncomfortable but he scissored his fingers expertly before pumping them in and out of you, earning him a slight moan from you. Astarion watched your face as you relaxed into him, pleased that you seemed to be enjoying this. He stopped after he deemed you were worked open and ready for him.

"Darling," he whispered. "I think you're ready for me."

You looked up at him, wide-eyed and trusting. Almost too trusting. He grimaced slightly and pulled his fingers out of you, inhaling your addictive scent as it lingered in the air. "I want to make sure, this is what you want."

Your brows furrowed and you almost huffed in annoyance. Why did he keep asking? You already told him you wanted this. Was he trying to embarrass you or make you beg? But you couldn't know the internal tug-of-war he was having. How could you when he was so closed off?

You simply nodded but that wasn't enough for him.

"Tell me in no uncertain terms," Astarion breathed.

"Yes, I want this," you said.

Without wasting a moment, Astarion leaned back and gripped his cock between his fingers and navigated to your waiting hole. He pressed the tip into you and your breath hitched, watching Astarion's face as he stared down at where your bodies joined.

He pressed in further and your body practically sucked him in, a shaky breath escaping lips. Gods, you were tight. He may even actually enjoy this more than he thought. He thrusted in and out, letting you get used to the sensation before finally pushing all the way in, bottoming out. When his hips finally met yours, you felt filled. You felt like your body was finally making way for the pleasure and you called out Astarion's name, his eyes snapping to you before he leaned down over you and pulled out before thrusting in again.

You let out a moan and he did it again, your body moving against the ground as he fucked you, your walls fluttering around him as he slammed his hips into yours, forcing the sweetest gasps and sounds from you.

It felt good, amazing even and you couldn't keep your eyes off of Astarion. You curled one hand into his hair and one gripped his shoulder. You looked into his eyes, to see if he was enjoying this as much as you were but when you looked into his eyes, something seemed… off.

You furrowed your brow, concerned. Astarion noticed the shift in your body and his gaze snapped to yours with a smirk as he reached down to play with you. You let out a surprised gasp, not expecting the feeling of pure ecstasy to grasp your body. He continued to fuck you as he rubbed and lavished attention on you, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips as his thrusts became harder.

"Astarion," you cried out as you moved your hips in time to chase your own release.

"Yes, yes…" Astarion groaned into your neck.

He let out a cry of your name as your soft walls squeezed around him, spasming as you raked your nails down his back. You moaned out his name in a prayer, your voice fading to nothing as you felt the most intense orgasm of your life rip through you. Every nerve was alight and Astarion thrust into you a final time, his body finally slowing to a halt as he collapsed atop you, his breathing labored.

You laid there on your back, your legs twitching slightly and your entrance felt wet and slightly sore. But you were satisfied nonetheless and you couldn't help raising your hand and running your fingers through Astarion's curls.

"That was amazing," you breathed. "I… didn't know I could feel like that."

You felt Astarion shift above you and he pulled out of you, his cum oozing out of you. He offered you his trademark smile and dropped beside you on the ground.

"I'm happy I could make you feel that way."

The conversation reached a lull and you looked back up at the sky, the moon and stars out, lighting the forest around you. You looked over at Astarion and he looked gorgeous being bathed by the moon. You could see yourself falling for him. You hoped he might feel the same too, but you couldn't know that that was not his intention with you.

Beside you, Astarion closed his eyes and tried to keep his thoughts at bay. He just did that. With you. You who were so pure, so trusting and willing with him. You genuinely liked him and he used it to his advantage. He felt… Shame? Disgust? He felt like he didn't deserve you. But he did what he had to to cement himself in your good graces and to secure his safety. It was nothing personal, of course.

[hiskillingjar]

i love the gender swap version so much ! if you’re accepting request can you please post part 2 i love your work <3

let's go lesbians let's go!!

i took this literally btw. as in this is just continued from my last girlfriend to death post. 2500+ words, lesbicious daddy kink usage dubious consent on all levels lol

🥀

"No, no, no, please, don't-"

The begging words from the laptop were cut off by the buzz of a chainsaw and a blood-curdling scream, a shower of blood and viscera covering the camera lens recording…whatever was happening.

You had found that people generally didn't beg or plead for mercy in the videos Law showed you, and it was a little strange that this person was.

Most were just stoically resigned to their fate and completely dissociated from their own mortality, eyes dead and skin pallid, and didn't struggle or even scream that much when a gun was pressed to their temple or a knife was plunged into their throat.

It seemed peaceful, you thought, and a little like the current state you were in.

Law kept her fingers tangled tightly in your hair while your head bobbed up and down in her lap, taking her cock deep into your throat and stimulating it with your tongue whenever she gave your hair a tug, expecting more effort from you, demanding more without words.

Your cunt was throbbing from the implication of her using you like an object, a sex toy, while she smoked a joint and watched her gory videos still playing on her laptop, but you couldn't touch yourself to the idea of your depersonalisation while your hands were cuffed to the foot of her bed, keeping you pinned, keeping you prisoner.

You didn't put up much of a fight, though. You didn't struggle or scream.

You were resigned to your fate, much like the sadsacks in her videos.

"You like this, don't you? You like when I…"

Law's breath, stained with the smell and intoxication of weed, came out lowly, like she was speaking from the very back of her throat between desperate, heavy gasps and her grip on your hair was starting to tighten again as her short nails dug into your scalp.

"You like it when I use you? Mph, when I fuck your mouth like my own personal sex toy?" She finished, stammering a little around the uncharacteristic words, raising her joint to her lips for another steady inhale. "Ahh…you're so pretty," She added with a dreamy smile (barely visible in your peripheral vision), a stream of smoke falling from her pretty lips as she set the still-burning joint down and pushed her palm into her bralette, palming her small breasts. "So pretty when you're sucking my cock."

She pushed your head down as far as it would go, your lips stretched tight and barely reaching the base of her, despite how much you were panting and spluttering.

It really was true what they said about trans girls.

"Mmm, god, I can't even fit it all inside you," She mumbled deliriously to herself, letting her body flop back against the bed as she groped herself even more and tried to force your head down, tried to force her cock even deeper down your throat. "Your mouth is so tight…ahhh…"

A thick string of glistening drool and pre-cum (sharp tasting like saline) pooled down your chin as she pushed in deeper, almost triggering your gag reflex and cutting off any and all oxygen going to your brain.

Triggered out of your haze of dissociation, you tried to pull back, not to stop in anyway, just to give yourself a breath of air, but she kept your head pinned down in her lap, not relenting for even a second, winding your hair around her palm so she had an even better grip of you.

"I could suffocate you," She mused airily, her fingers rubbing soothing patterns against your scalp, her voice a gentle (and again, sickeningly maternal) coo. "It would be so easy. Just keep you on my cock until you're convulsing and begging for air, and just…watch you wilt." She chuckled to herself, cutting herself off with a low moan as her back arched, her hips raising against your face and pushing (somehow) even deeper into your throat. "You probably wouldn't die, either, not for a long time, anyway. So I could keep you forever. Just like this."

You moaned helplessly against her cock, unable to meet her eyes as your own rolled back into your skull and you pulled at your cuffs hard. You weren't as much scared of the threat as you were endlessly turned on and eager for any kind of relief that she'd let you have.

But this wasn't about you. It was about her.

You were hers, and you were there for her to use as she wanted, even if you had to die for her to get off.

It was almost peaceful. Blissful.

You couldn't think of a better way to go.

🦊

"Ahhnn…ohhh, oh god, Ren!"

You moaned, loud and desperate and open-mouthed, as your back arched against the bed, the chains of your cuffs rubbing against the hotel room's bedframe, a harsh noise that did nothing to distract you from your own searing pleasure.

Ren hadn't let you take off the cosplay despite stripping herself off to her underwear as soon as you got back to the hotel. So, you were lying there, clothed and bound and totally disheveled with your petticoats shoved up around your waist, bucking your hips up restlessly against her hungry mouth on your cunt and the dangerous little toy she was holding against your clit.

Each time she indulgently suckled your cunt, the pornographic slurp of her tongue running along your wet slit, was so hideously loud, even over the constant buzzing of the toy, inching up little by little as she grew even more desperate for your pleasure as you were, but those sounds were nothing compared to your desperate keening moans, whines, and whimpers.

"God, you look fucking possessed," Ren said with a yipping laugh as she looked up at you, her golden eyes wide and almost manic while they were staring so intently. Her lacy bra and panties were almost see-through, exposing her dark areolas and the soft bush of pubic hair that dusted her cunt, and made you all the more desperate for her as she sat up, licking her jaws. "Mm, your cunt is soaking wet, baby. Like I could slide my biggest toy inside of you and you wouldn't even feel a thing."

You bit your lip with another needy moan, your eyes glazing over as you thought about her toys back home, the strap-on that she could switch out and change, depending on how much she wanted to torture you.

What you wouldn't give to take that fucking strap on now?

"Mmph, please, please-"

"What are you begging for?" She said with a mean smile, leaning close to you but not moving the buzzing toy for even a moment. "You want me to fuck you, to let you cum?" She tilted her head, her ears tipping forward on top of her head as her tail began to wag a little more. "Hm? What is it, sweetie?"

"Fuck meeeee~" You pleaded, looking up into her eyes, pleading for her mercy with everything you still had left. "Please, I'm desperate for it, please..."

"Oh, silly girl, your voice is slurring." She interrupted with another laugh, yipping and barking like a hyena, taking the utmost pleasure in how much you needed her. "Wow, you really must have been way drunker than me! I'm already sobering up, but you?" She ran her tongue over her lips again as she slid the slider of the vibrator up, making it buzz louder and faster against your sore clit. "Hah, you sound so cute and dumb when you're tipsy!"

You shrieked as she pressed a little more weight against the vibrator, pushing it harshly against your clit and rubbing each ridge against the throbbing muscle, making the pain (and pleasure) all the more intense.

"Ren, pleaseeee," Your voice was a near sob as you pulled hard at your cuffs, almost wanting to hide your flushed, sweating face from her hungry gaze. "Please, please, I can't, I can't-"

"Maybe we shouldn't go to the con tomorrow, hm?" She mumbled softly, rubbing a tight, little circle against your cunt with the vibrator, stimulating even more, making your body thrash erratically. "Maybe I should just tie you to the bed and edge you all day long." She grinned again, the way she did when she had a particularly hideous idea to tell you. "Let in the housekeepers too, so they can get a good look at you."

"Nooooo," You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to pull at your cuffs again, opting to hide your face in your trembling bicep, against the scratch tulle of the cosplay's blouse. "No, no no, noooo…"

"Yessss~" She giggled and reached up to your face with her free hand, pushing your head back into the pillows and forcing your eyes together as she brought her face down to yours. "C'mon, baby, you know you're way too dumb to make decisions for yourself right now. I mean, just look at you. You're a mess." She tilted her head to the side, her ears flat, a condescending look of sympathy on her pretty (pretty) face. "That's why I'm here to take care of you."

"And I'll always take care of you. That's what we agreed to, right?"

🔨

You gasped brokenly each time you were pulled down onto Strade's strap-on, words slurred into helpless gurgles and grunts as her full hips slammed against your backside loudly, rhythmically, like a well-oiled machine, the leather of her harness sticking to the sweat running down your arse and hips.

She kept one hand on your shoulder, the other on your hip, both grips authoritative and controlling as short nails dug into your soft flesh, sure to leave a mark, a bruise, and remind you of the encounter for days to come.

"God, you're taking it so well, fraulein. I knew you were a needy, little whore, but this is something else." She growled with an unseen smirk, her accent even thicker as she grew even more aroused, pulling you down even more on the massive toy, to the point of discomfort (to the point of you moaning even louder, any protests slurred into whines.) "Mm, taking it like the dog you are, aren't you?"

"Uh huh," You slurred in idle agreement, your head still swimming from the drink as she pushed a hand into your sweaty hair and pulled your head back, forcing your back to arch and your arse to be raised even higher, the grip probably better than the one on your shoulder and much more painful for you.

You had a sense that that was Strade's ultimate goal.

"Yeah? Kleiner hündchen, little puppy, is that it?" She asked with a rasped chuckle, hooking her chin over your shoulder as the hand on your hip slid up to palm your chest, her own (covered by a sports bra, her shirt haphazardly unbuttoned to reveal a soft stomach) pressed to your back. "Wanna prove that to me? Bark then, if you're a dog."

"Ahhnn…" You moaned helplessly as she rolled one of your pierced nipples between her thumb and forefinger, pressing somehow even deeper inside you, the head of the strap-on so deep that it felt like it was penetrating one of your organs. "F-Fuck…"

"That doesn't sound much like a bark to me, little dog," She laughed again, pressing her drooling mouth against your shoulder, nipping your skin and leaving behind even more bruises as she continued to palm and grope your chest. "Do as you're told or I'm gonna have to get nasty."

You whimpered feebly as she slowed down her thrusts, angling the massive toy even deeper inside you and idly thrusting up against the sensitive bundle of nerves that made up your g-spot, making you clench tight and your body stiffen in shock and brain-melting arousal.

"Come on," Strade then rasped, her voice dipping down lowly as she pressed her lips to your neck, warm and wet and waiting to bite. "Bark for Daddy, or I'll look for something else big and sharp to stick into your guts, hm?"

Your body spasmed as you clenched even tighter around the toy, letting your head drop down to your sweating chest.

"Wuff wuff," You mumbled softly, your voice a slurred murmur as she continued to fuck into your body like a toy, a pile of meat.

"What was that?" She asked airly with an evident smile to her voice, the hand on your chest reaching up to your chin to force your head back up against hers, hips once again smacking against your backside as the pace picked up. "Come on, that was nowhere near good enough! Let me hear you properly."

"Wuff wuff!" You yapped a little more loudly, going as far as to subtly wag your arse to prove how good of a dog you could be for 'Daddy'.

"That's it! That's perfect!" She praised, as the hand on your hip descended to your front to idly circle your clit, her thick fingers toying with the muscle as you whimpered and whined and arched forward for even more, consequences be damned. "Such a good dog, fraulein. So good for your Daddy."

You whined needily as your shaking hands reached up to hers. The hand on your chin ran down to your neck as she grabbed your throat and pulled you even closer against her, and as each hand circled her thick wrists, you found yourself unwilling to push away each of the sensations, the shortness in your breath pushing you over the edge all the more.

"That's a good girl," She whispered against your neck, running her tongue over each sensitive spot and leaving behind a mean little nip against your jaw. "Such a good, well-behaved pet for me."

Her voice was filled with an almost cruel and predatory kind of amusement, but you barely had the brain about you to care, focusing only on the pounding heat in your cunt and her fingers rubbing your clit.

You'd be a good dog as long as she wanted, just as long as you kept feeling this maddeningly delicious torture.

[kindlingkeen]

Hello!! o/ I was curious about your opinions on the whole Jason Todd is immortal idea, this post lays it out pretty well & kinda mentions him using it to his advantage:

https://www.tumblr.com/forestlingincorporated/672020812528779264/so-jason-todd-might-be-immortal

If in your asymmetrical warfare series he was immortal in this way (dies but comes back) would that change anything? Would he use that ability at all?

Thank you :D

Hello!! I’m very normal about this ask. 👀

Friend, I think about this all the time. Like this is my #1 go to I-can’t-sleep-let-me-ponder-the-nature-of-Jason-Todd’s-existence thought wormhole.

‘Cause here’s the thing. Batman 💯 killed Jason at the end of Under the Hood. This, right here, is undeniably, unquestionably, arterial spray.

He would have bled out in minutes from a severed carotid. This kind of blood loss is not a survivable.

And then ofc there’s the whole…

Argue in the comments with me if you want, but I will die (bloody from hypovolemic shock) on this hill. Bruce killed Jason with that Batarang.

But, clearly, Jay comes back. Somehow. Those purple space sparkles at the end of Under the Hood sure look a lot like the purple space sparkles that bring Jay back initially.

And then there’s that beautiful bit of narrative text that goes along with Jay’s initial resurrection:

“The strange truth of this anomaly, this wave that set so many bits of time on a different path did not change history … but set it right.”

To me, this says that there is a right way for Jason Todd to die, and Superboy Prime’s ripple in time isn’t going to stand for it going down any other way. Ethiopia was the wrong way. À la Batarang wasn’t right either. So, immortal? I don’t know. But there are definitely conditions in place surronding his exit from this plane of existence.

But how does that ripple fix Jason’s death, exactly? After Under the Hood, does Jay wake up buried in the rubble sometime later? Or has Jason’s initial resurrection become fixed in time—a nexus point, if you will, that keeps pulling Jay back in. Now that’s fun to daydream about. 👀

I agree with the Tumblr post you cited that it seems like DC was building toward something with Jason in that era, and then just dropped it. And it seems pretty in character for how Jason was being written post Infinite Crisis, that if he thought he couldn’t die, he would use that to his advantage.

So, those are my thoughts in a nutshell surrounding the possible immortality of Jason Todd.

If in your asymmetrical warfare series he was immortal in this way (dies but comes back) would that change anything? Would he use that ability at all?

Right now, AW Jason is on a path to reclaiming pieces of himself—to building something for himself outside of Batman and the Joker—things that canonical Jason didn’t have or do. I think all of that would make AW Jason less cavalier about dying, less willing to chance it, than what DC was implying for a post Infinite Crisis Jason.

It certainly hasn’t occurred to AW Jason that he could be immortal. If something were to change that, depending on the nature of those circumstances, well … I guess we’ll have to see.

Thanks for the fantastic ask, friend. Hope you enjoyed my ramblings. The implications of all of this in Asymmetrical Warfare are going to be buzzing around the back of my brain for some time to come. 🩵

Images from Batman: Under the Hood by Judd Winick.

[2n2n]

Although it is impossible (from my perspective) to predict what Aida Iro thinks. What do you think will happen in the next chapter?

Since from my perspective your theories and analyses always seem quite credible. I love the way you write. I would love to hear your opinion, if you don't mind. 😁😉

Thank you for appreciating my brain............

I've said it before, but I don't tend to think in terms of immediate-next-chapter, but about the overall arc, what we've accomplished, what we're waiting to accomplish, and what the story is missing on the whole, what would seem to contrast what's happened (since we don't expect things to be repetitive within the same arc ... more likely it could echo or dive deeper or even disprove a way of thinking or behaving in a previous arc!)

..... my main feeling is that, we still need to investigate Tsukasa, in order to answer or correct anything about this world. We've had a lot of leading scenes with him... Amane doesn't seem to be a reliable resource... I would like to be stuck with the other Yugi.

We have the 'Tsukasa-kun' in the school, and we have this kitty, who may be some remnant of Tsukasa... the only past we could be looking to 'turn back' would have to be Tsukasa's, as it's not safe to return to the Red House itself to turn back Amane's.... and of course, Nene-chan's past doesn't turn back that far. So there's no use in her using it on herself. As far as I understand. even if the kitty has a connection himself to Tsukasa, he has no memories, so he could simply accompany Nene-chan to tracking down the rumor.... and there is some mythology to 'ask Tsukasa-kun questions', so, well, that feels intended to lead us back to him.

just going off of vibes, I'd assume the kitty is going to impulsively start helping Nene-chan, because she's charmed him... the Clockkeepers don't seem kind to him....Nene-chan prepared him a tasty warm (alcoholic) beverage, also he might be slightly buzzed from that .............. I think the two could form a dynamic not dissimilar to early-series HanaNene in some ways... though I would kind of love for it to have its stark differences... maybe she could just expect or command the kitty to help; maybe as more of a pitiful servant figure, he'd be easy to bark at... he's not an egomaniacal leader like Hanako hah.... haha. I wonder what happens if she takes the hourglass... does she gain some dominion over him, if she can control time, if he's property of the power....? Tsukasa has wanted her to take over this power from the start of this festival arc............

one of my earliest wishes for this arc was for Nene-chan to become Tsukasa's kannagi... I would really love for her to become bound to this cat in order to progress... we know binding to a mortal increases a kaii's ability, so maybe it would be mutually beneficial.... but since becoming a kannagi, binding, is symbolic with marriage, relationship forming, it could be loaded. I would like Nene-chan to deal with that sort of difficulty... no longer only bound to Hanako. Its possible she herself wouldn't think twice about it, but the cat might... Hanako obfuscates the implications of binding, but the cat seems more honest...? Would love to have even a tiny bit more perspective on being a kannagi....................... and I would like Nene-chan to be bound to both Yugi.

This is so molecular, but I've wondered HOW we will reveal the kitty's identity, will it be more of a pure text thing, if his memories of living life will return to him as he assists Nene-chan in investigating this timeline & the Yugi's history, or if binding to her could free his mind from the fog the Clockkeepers may be enforcing upon him, or like, could some circumstance come to pass that has kitty manifesting his human form again physically? Could the binding do that? THOUGHTS...

We don't know what Natsuhiko or Sakura are doing in this arc at all, so a thought put to them... will they become pieces? or maybe they aren't relevant? In our main timeline, Sakura is some sort of overseer to the Mysteries... it seems to be her burden, perhaps something she was born into... we don't know. The Mysteries don't exist in this arc, and neither does Tsukasa as yorishiro instigating Sakura to make moves... I can't even be sure she exists, or if she's still a magical entity in some way.

Natsuhiko, we know next to nothing about, so he could be anything in this world... I don't know what he could act like without Sakura.... we don't know what he was like before her. We don't know why he's so cursed with stinky blood....

well....................................................

much potential.

I think I'd like the takeaway from this whole arc to be a greater curiosity towards Tsukasa, from Nene-chan... some sort of lingering attachment to the kitty, sadness to have to 'leave him behind', maybe a wish to help or 'fix' his sorry life, too (useless, can't do it.... have to pursue what you already love... and I doubt kitty will care to be helped, as fine with submitting to his fate as Hanako is in our usual timeline, uninterested in ideals or dreams)... and an understanding that circumstances, not nature, make the Yugi what they are .... friend or threat.