#n then i rushed home again to put on makeup for dinner

[calpicowater]

Week 44.8/52: October 31st - November 6th 2022 | Reunited with Esther! 💄

I’ve lost count of how many hot pots I have eaten this week. This blog is turning into a hot pot specific review blog LOOOOOL the past 3 consecutive posts have been exclusively just hot pot. Anyway, I finally saw Esther again for the first time since her last shift in March. Was good to catch up after 6+ months. 喜欢跟小姐姐聊天!!! We had Yushang Hot Pot and it was my first time. Their soup bases are SO delicious to drink. We only ordered three things (meat/shrimp ball platter, beef slices, and fish slices) because we drank like 2.5 pots of soup each and got full off of the sauce bar fruits/side dishes LOL. I got the fish gelatin/chicken golden soup and it was very yum and flavourful. Feels so healthy too. Yay, good (and surprisingly affordable) meal!

[cactus-cuddler]

Thanks for the request! I had some issues with tumblr and had to delete the previous answer and now I don't have the question anymore. I hope whoever asked me can still find it and like it <3

𝑨𝒏 𝒊𝒓𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒂𝒔𝒔

ੈ✩‧₊˚ Pairing: dom!Natasha Romanoff x Sub!female!reader

ੈ✩‧₊˚ Word count: 1,5 k

ੈ✩‧₊˚ Plot: Natasha can't resist your ass in a pair of jeans

ੈ✩‧₊˚ Warning: contains explicit sex scenes

Shopping with Natasha is like shopping with a child. She just doesn't enjoy it and doesn't even make the effort to pretend. The only part she likes is when you're in the dressing room, showing her the clothes you want to buy and asking for her opinion on whether they look good on you. But even then, it's not very helpful, because in her eyes, everything looks good on you-from garbage bags to actual trash cans.

Today, you need to buy a pair of jeans. You've noticed that the ones you have don't fit quite the way you'd like-some are too loose, and others too tight. "Am I gaining weight?" you ask Natasha, and her alarm bells immediately go on. It's a dangerous question, and she knows she could find herself single at any moment, so she carefully measures her words. "Absolutely not, you're just growing, little one," she replies, placing her hands on your hips and kissing your lips so you won't respond. She even convinces you to measure yourself, and you find you've grown almost an inch (with your shoes on).

You select a few pairs of jeans that might suit your curves best and choose three to try on. You head to the dressing rooms and ask your girlfriend to wait outside while you show her each pair one by one. The first pair fits well, enhancing your legs and hugging your hips perfectly. The second pair is similar but looser and doesn't show off the shape of your legs. The last pair makes your ass look amazing, and Natasha can't help but be captivated by it. "I understand why your jeans don't fit at home!" she exclaims enthusiastically, staring shamelessly at your divine ass. You look straight into her eyes as her cheeks flush with the color of her hair. Seeing your ass so perfectly wrapped in this jeans has her blood rushing to her head-and between her legs, she feels a warm sensation. "Your ass has grown!" she exclaims, and you giggle. You know it's not true; it's just the effect of the jeans. You change back into your clothes and decide to buy all three pairs. You pay with your card and, satisfied with your purchases, head home in Natasha's car.

Natasha treats you like a princess, even though she knows you don't need that kind of attention. But you enjoy it. She opens the car door for you, lets you use the mirrors freely, and allows you to keep your essentials like hair ties, makeup, jewelry, and creams in her car. To say that you love her is an understatement.

You've invited some old friends over for dinner this evening, which is why you were motivated to buy new jeans, and for this occasion, you plan to show off your new purchase. You put on the jeans Natasha liked so much and pair them with a t-shirt that's short enough to leave your ass in plain sight. "Y/N, we forgot to buy drinks!" Natasha exclaims as she sets the table (she sets the table while you cook) while you're in the middle of choosing the right earrings. You're bent over, not sitting on the chair, so you can look at yourself in the mirror while putting them on. Natasha is once again entranced by the sight. "We still have an hour, and they're always late. Let's go buy them now," you reply calmly as you put on the last earring.

Natasha grabs her car keys, you you bag and then you head to the nearest supermarket, taking the opportunity to pick up a few other things you're missing at home.

When you arrive at the supermarket, your fantastic ass doesn't go unnoticed. Natasha, feeling jealous, decides to walk behind you, while you push the shopping cart so she can be the only one enjoying the view. In her head, she's already imagining several scenarios where she'll rip those jeans off to get her hands on your amazing butt.

Making sure no one is watching, she reaches out and squeezes your buttocks, making you jump in surprise. You smile at her and playfully slap her hand before returning to your shopping.

Once you're back home, you barely have time to put away the groceries before Natasha scoops you up onto her shoulders and carries you into the bedroom. "That ass is illegal," she says, throwing you onto the bed and flipping you onto your belly before straddling you. "Nat, they'll be here in half an hour!" you exclaim, reminding her of dinner. "That's cute that you think you'll last that long," she teases, and you blush. A warmth spreads throughout your body as you feel the heat between your legs. "I've been holding back all day. Don't I deserve a treat?" she whispers in your ear. "You're right, you do deserve it," you reply.

Your body is on fire now and waiting when the night with your friends finishes would make the both of you explode in front of them.

Natasha slaps your ass and then starts massaging it with your jeans still covering it. She tries to take them off from behind but there is a zip and a button that won't allow it so she makes you turn on your back and with a brusque gesture she removes the button and the zip.

Because of the force used you were afraid she would tear your recently bought jeans. She puts you in doggy style to have your ass well exposed in front of her. She leaves a few little slaps on it and then she digs her fingers in.

“What a fantastic ass," Natasha says before putting her face in between and focusing her tongue on your ass. She penetrates your ass with her tongue and then inserts a finger inside which she pushes carefully, making sure to give you only and exclusively pleasure.

You arch your back from the pleasure she is giving you and in the meantime, unable to resist the calls of your pussy, you start to touch it making circular movements on your clit. You start moaning in pleasure asking Natasha to give you more as she licks and penetrates the entrance of your ass while your fingers focus on your hot little cunt. She stains your ass with her delicate bites and while her mouth is focused on that she reaches out a hand to touch your breast still covered by your shirt and bra.

She gently makes you lie down on your back and decides to take care of your pussy too, which is wet and just waiting for her tongue.

She positions herself between your legs and starts sucking your clit, looking straight into your eyes and forcing you to watch her suck it. Now, to your displeasure, she leaves your breasts aside for the short time she has available. She wants to make you come by focusing only on your lower abdomen, as she is good at doing.

Your hands move into her hair and you push her closer to your cunt. She starts to penetrate your pussy with two fingers and while she holds your clit between her lips, your sighs become ever louder and more desperate.

“Nat, I'm about to come,” you tell her, biting your lip to keep from screaming.

"Come for me baby," she replies, continuing to penetrate you and looking straight into your eyes to admire how beautiful you are while being overwhelmed by the pleasure she gives you.

Without making you repeat it, you come on her fingers while your body still trembles. Once you come, she grabs you by the throat and kisses you with wish and feeling your taste between her tongue make you even more excited and you would like to lick her pussy to feel her sweet taste and make her come with your tongue but she gets up leaving your mind fantasizing about her cunt.

Nat gets up and opens a drawer. That drawer you know all too well and pulls out a purple strap-on but before she can make another move the doorbell rings. The red-head bites the inside of her lip as you grab a pair of slacks and your jeans.

You order Natasha to go and open the door only after changing her T-shirt which is wet with your pleasure and try to make yourself presentable.

"As soon as they leave, I'm going to fuck you until you forget your name," Natasha announces as she closes the door behind her. Oh, you know she's going to do it, you didn't need her to tell you.

You decide to change your jeans, you don't want to provoke her too much and you decide to put on the baggy ones and while you try to erase the expression of someone who has just been eaten out you hear your guests asking about you.

[lewisvinga]

sneaky link | jude bellingham x sainz! reader

summary; y/n knew it wasn’t the best idea to sneak jude in while her family was out at dinner. but she couldn’t help but risk it despite her overprotective brother

warnings; cursing

word count; 956

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1 @minseok-smaus @goldenmclaren @ollieshifts @lavisenri @graciewrote @xoscar03 @c-losur3 @fall-bambi

note; before you all ask no i’m not okay w the kroos news

masterlist !

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⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

“Oh shit,” Y/n mumbled as she heard multiple cars pull up into her driveway. She quickly gets up from Jude’s lap and looks out her bedroom window. She mentally curses when she sees the cars of her parents, brother, and sister in the driveway.

“What happened?” He asked curiously, lifting his head from her pillow.

She picked up his white t-shirt and zip-up hoodie from her makeup chair and chucked it at him. “My family came back earlier than expected. Hurry! Put your clothes back on!”

A laugh escaped from his lips as he sat up on her bed. He sets his phone down and catches his clothes. “You weren’t complainin’ 5 minutes ago when you were on my lap and-“

“Yes you’re very hot and as much as I appreciate you shirtless,” Y/n huffed, watching her brother shut the door to his Ferrari. “My brother wouldn’t.”

“I swear he’ll like me.”

“Just because you play for Real Madrid doesn’t guarantee that Carlos won’t go all crazy big brother on you.”

“Yeah but-“

“Y/n!” Her mother’s voice called out for her from the bottom of the stairs. “We came early and brought back dessert. Come down to the backyard!”

Y/n and Jude shared the same wide-eyed look. Whenever he visited especially late at night, the backyard patio was where he usually snuck out since there were cameras in the front door. With her whole family outside, it would be more difficult to get him out.

She hears the back door open and close, meaning they’re all outside. “You can get out from the side-“ She turned back to face her boyfriend and noticed he was still shirtless. “Stop distracting me!”

Jude couldn’t hold back his laugh from her panicked face. She glared at him as he wiped the tears from his eyes, taking deep breaths to try to stop laughing. “Okay, okay, fine! I’m sorry.” He said in between laughs, putting on his white shirt.

“I don’t know why you’re so worried though. I’ve met your mom already.”

Y/n sighed and grabbed her ugg slippers. “My mom. You’ve met my mom. Not my brother or dad.” She mumbled in reply. She remembered the time she brought a boy home when she was 15. Boy did her brother scare him away. Ever since then, she swore she wouldn’t bring a guy around Carlos not until she knew he was ready to see his baby sister be an adult.

“He can’t be that bad.”

She gave him a glare and he raised his hands up in defense. She grabbed his hand as she slowly opened her bedroom door. She looks down the lengthy halls before quietly and carefully dragging him towards the staircase.

“Now, keep quiet because I don’t need Carlos seeing you,” Y/n whispers to Jude who nods in response. They made it to the bottom of the staircase and were about to rush towards the side doors when a familiar voice stopped them.

“Don’t need me seeing who?”

The couple froze in their spots, both too scared to turn around. She felt her heart stop for a second when Carlos cleared his throat again. “Y/n.” His voice was stern.

She gulped and slowly turned around. She stood in front of Jude but that did little due to his height. She was met with her brother's stern gaze. His jaw was clenched, clearly unhappy at the sight of his baby sister with a boy.

Carlos knew who Jude was. Being a Madridista since birth meant he knew every player, especially one who helped them win the league. The Ferrari driver was a fan of the English player, at least he was until he saw him standing behind Y/n.

“He was just leaving-“

“Why is he here?”

“Hello, Jude, nice to meet you,” Jude said with a smile. He held his hand out but Y/n immediately slapped it down. “What? I’m trying to be nice!”

She glanced back at her brother and took a step closer to him. “Por favor, Carlos. No hagas de esto un gran problema.” [please, carlos. don’t make this a big problem] She quietly said. “Has hablado bien de él. No cambies tu opinión ahora solo porque el es mi novio [you’ve talked good things about him. don’t change your opinion now just because he’s my boyfriend]

Her eyes were wide and her eyebrows were furrowed up, showing how much she wanted her brother to be calm about her relationship. Jude was confused as he stared at the Sainz siblings. He only knew so much Spanish and certainly not to the extent of understanding all of what his girlfriend said.

Carlos lets out a deep sigh as he gently pats her arm. “Vale.” [okay] He says after thinking for a few seconds. “So what, is he your sneaky link?”

His words caused Y/n to gasp as the English player bursted into laughter once again. “Carlos! I just said he’s my boyfriend!” She exclaimed, ignoring the feeling of her face burning up as her boyfriend balanced himself on her and tried to stop laughing.

“Why’re you sneaking him out?”

“Because of you!”

Jude takes a deep breath before standing back up straight. “Yeah, sorry ‘bout sneaking behind your back. It did kinda seem like I was her sneaky link.” He said with a smile, gently poking her cheek.

Carlos gave him a glare which made the Real Madrid’s player smile fall. The Ferrari driver immediately smiled before pulling him into a side hug. “Oye, no more sneaking around with my sister. You’re an amazing player on the pitch and just because you’ve saved us many times doesn’t mean I’ll be easy on you for dating my sister.”

“Got it, no more sneaky link meet-ups.”

“Jude!”

[jammyjen26]

ALL PICTURE CREDS. TO THE OWNERS (FOUND THE PICTURES ON PINTEREST)!!

Simon Riley, late valentines post!

Simon unfortunately had to go on a 6 week long mission right as the month February started which made him unable to be there on valentines day.

Although you told him that you didn’t care about the holiday he decided to surprise you on his day back. He comes home and he just tells you to get dressed. (Your outfit at the end of page!)

Very confused on why he’s in a rush and telling you to get dressed, you question him.

“Why? Is something going on?”

You say as he’s undressing and rushing to get in the shower. Throwing the clothes in the laundry hamper without thought.

“You’ll find out later, mama. Be patient. Here, put these on.”

He kisses your cheek and hands you a bag with a box of shoes and clothes before heading into the shower.

You take each item out of the bag and gasp, smiling at the cute outfit once you’ve finished putting it on. You want to question him but you know how stubborn he is so you just do your hair and makeup and wait for him.

He gets dressed in an all black suit(his outfit at the end of the page also).

“Close those pretty eyes for me, mama?”

He asks as he grabs a blindfold, he notices your suspicious expression and just chuckles. Once he blindfolds you, he carries you downstairs, he sets you on your feet and locks the house door.

You can hear him unlocking the car and fixing things before your blindfold is taken off, he hands you a bouquet of money and a bouquet of red roses. His eyes light up at your shocked expression, tears welling up in your eyes.

“Simon.. I..I don’t know what to say..”

You hug him tightly and kiss him. His hands immediately find their way to your hips and pulling you closer to him.

“You didn’t have to, I told you that I did-“

He cuts you off by placing his finger on your lips.

“Shh mama, let a man love his pretty girl yeah? You deserve more than this if we’re being honest.”

He opens the car door and a basket of gifts is sitting in the passenger seat leaving you gasping once again. You can’t thank him enough, he puts the gifts in the backseat and buckles you up in the passenger seat.

“Where are we going?” You ask as he starts driving.

“It’s a surprise for a reason, if I told you it wouldn’t be a surprise.” His hand squeezes your thigh.

After a long car ride of you asking him various questions, you arrive at a restaurant. You walk in and notice how the place is decorated and there seems to be a curtain that’s separating half of the restaurant as if to not let you see. You also notice how it’s just you two and the workers.

“Did you reserve the place? No way..Simon Riley, this must’ve been so expensive.” You guys walk over to a table and sit down.

“Just enjoy it, Mrs. Riley. You deserve it.” He smirks and gives you a warm smile.

The table has wine and champagne inside an ice bucket, a champagne glass and a wine glass with plates as well. You put the napkin on your lap as the waiter gives you guys the menu.

“Woah, this is so cool.” You look around the restaurant with a big smile on your lips, not noticing the way he’s been staring at your left hand and fidgeting with his pocket.

After a great filling dinner, he blindfolds you again and leads you to where the curtains are. Walking past the curtains, he turns you around and makes you face a projector. He takes off the blindfold and a video starts playing.

It’s clips of him after his mission with Price, Gaz, Soap, Alex, Graves and more.

“Hello Y/N! We are Ghost’s aka Simon’s friends. And today we are here to deliver a message.” Price says.

“Before we begin, don’t turn around until we say so okay?” Gaz says.

Everyone introduces themselves and they both read something off of a paper.

As you’re busy watching the video, Simon is on one knee behind you. Waiting for when the video tells you to turn around.

After everyone made a speech that describes your relationship with Simon and how it’s made Simon a better person and how he truly loves and trusts you.

“And now turn around!” Everyone in the video says before the video cuts off.

You turn and immediately gasp, tears wetting your eyes as Simon is on one knee with a love sick smile on his lips. One hand holding a small box with the same ring that you’ve been talking about.

“Y/N, I seriously can’t describe how much I love you. I am a monster, I’ve killed thousands if not millions of people in my line of work. Yet you somehow still find a way to love me, my past, my scars, and even my trauma. You’ve been nothing but an angel to me, I don’t say it often and I definitely should say it more but I truly love you so much. So.. will you marry me?” He says, tears wetting his eyes as well.

“Yes!” You jump on him, making him fall to the ground.

After multiple hugs he puts the ring on your finger, as if on cue your favorite song starts playing and he starts dancing with you. You spend the day bragging about your proposal and clinging to him. Posting the proposal video on all your socials as well as his so everyone knows that he’s a taken man.

Of course you two fuck that night, the best fuck of your life from the man that you love.

————————————————————————

The pics:

[anadiasmount]

just a small blurb, y/n tries the pheromone perfume and tried to leave the house, but jude won’t let her

IVE SEEN THIS PERFUME GO VIRAL ON TIKTOK!!! 🤭 i didnt proofread so hope it isn’t to bad 😵‍💫

like always, you made plans last minute with girls to go out for dinner and drinks. you weren’t in that much of a mood to go out because you felt the need to stay home and be warm bc of the cold weather. but you also knew you had not seen them in so long and a night out was what you deserved together.

you quickly turned on your getting ready playlist and go ready. you didn’t know whether it was bc it was last minute but as soon as you saw your hair and makeup eating, it was go time. nothing had creased or spread and your blowout just looked so professionally done you felt a bubble of excitement grow in your tummy.

“babe a package came!” jude screamed out running to the room and placing it on your vanity, quickly placing a kiss on your shoulder then running back out to play video games. you opened it quickly, more excitement running through your veins as you saw the viral PH perfume come into view.

it didn’t smell like anything to you, shrugging and putting it on the side as you finished small details, brushing away any extra powder, applying lip gloss and making sure no flyaways were seen. you dressed quickly and placed some jewelry to finish the look. you decided to try the perfume quickly spritzing it on your neck, wrists and and chest, rubbing so the scent would last longer.

jude was in the living room playing whatever video game he was, talking loudly over the headset. he wore a black tight compression shirt and some grey sweats, leaning back on the chair as he stared into the monitor. you grab your boots and zip them up, walking over to where jude was.

“i’m leaving, babe! i’ll be home early so we can watch money heist again,” you say kissing his cheek and walking away. “okay baby-” jude cut himself off, smelling the air, a sweet and flowery scent overtaking his senses. he was drawn to it, like a spell that would be impossible to overturn. he looked over to you, following the scent that lingered in the air.

not only was he drawn by the perfume but also how gorgeous you looked to be going out. you turned around startled when you saw jude facing you with a frown. “come here,” he said motioning with his finger to come closer. you furrowed your brows in confusion but doing as he said.

he leaned down to smell your neck, feeling the tip of his nose brush against your sweet spot making you giggle and push him away. “jude stop! what happened?” you ask with a smile, still slightly confused why he was frowning. “babe, you smell so good. is that a new perfume?” jude asks, grabbing your wrist to smell it.

“yes, that was the package that came in”.

jude couldn’t tell why, but this perfume was different from the other ones you owned. he could smell it from miles away, it smelled rich and heavenly, going perfectly with you and your scent. this perfume didn’t make him feel dizzy or anything that he couldn’t tolerate, it smelled made just for you and only you.

“do you like it? apparently it supposed to fit with your body’s ph. honestly i couldn’t really smell it so i don’t how to take your reaction as a compliment or if i should go take a shower…” you joke, seeing his eyes soften and walk to you. “it smells so good, like really really good y/n… are you really gonna go out?” he muffled hands going around your waist stopping you from going anywhere.

jude didn’t want anyone else smelling you like this. a rush of jealousy waving over him at any man approaching you and complimenting you bc of the scent. if he liked it he knew other people would too. which is why he was making any excuses for you not to go. “sorry jude but i promised i’d go,” you try to let go of his grip but he only pulled you closer.

“you’re not going. not when you smell this good. i don’t want any men falling in love with you because of it,” jude states his ground, watching your eyebrows twist in a “are you serious way?”. “jude it’s just the girls and i, im going and that’s final,” you scoff.

“no you’re not. you’re staying here with me watching money heist like you said. tell the girls to come here,” jude suggested making you laugh. “jude it’s just a perfume,” you say watching his eyes go crazy as he sees you twisting the knob. “uh where are you going?”

“to dinner! why are you being so weird,” you said, stopping your movements, feeling goosebumps as you felt the cold air from outside. “because that perfume will drive others crazy and they will come talk to you,” jude says walking over to shut the door and put his back against it making you laugh again. “you’re not serious right?”

“just stay here with me? it’s cold and you can get sick…”

“i wish i could believe i wish i could, but i haven’t seen them in so long. plus i didn’t get ready for nothing,” you say walking over to him and tip toeing to reach his height. “i’ll come back straight home to my sexy bf who’ll be waiting for me,” you say kissing his lips lovingly.

“yeah there’s no way you’re going now, and leaving me like this, princess.”

[lady-of-tearshed]

Rude awakening

A/N: Here's a little treat while you wait for the Azriel fic that's coming this week.

Summary: Eris has to, once again, bring Lucien along with him on the long-awaited date planned with you. He can't help but wonder how having a child with you would look like...

Word count: 961

Warnings: Based on true event 🤣 maybe like slight angst.

The house had been cleaned and now smells delightful, you were wearing the pretty red dress Eris had gifted you on your last birthday, and you managed to do your hair and makeup perfectly… Everything was perfect for your long-awaited planned date. You and Eris haven’t been able to have much time together in the last few years, Beron delegated more and more responsibilities to his heir and eldest son since Lucien's birth.

 Adorable little Lulu brought a lot of tension between the High Lord of Autumn and his mate unconsciously. The eldest of now six brothers felt a huge sense of responsibility towards the new addition to the Vanserra family. His other brothers couldn’t care less about the youngling. No one would have thought that Eris Vanserra, older than the toddler by a little more than a century, would be the first one to rush to little Lucien and cover his ears, taking him out of the house on a fun adventure he would tell him when a fight would burst inside the Forest House. 

Beron was supposed to be out on duty in Summer Court for the week, which assured you and Eris to be able to enjoy a peaceful date at your little cabin you called your house without him worrying about Lucien’s safety, since the little one would be safely tucked in his mother’s arms back at home. 

You basically run to open the door when a soft knock resonates on the wooden surface. No words can describe the surprise, and just very slight disappointment, when Eris shows up with an overjoyed Lucien sitting on his shoulders. “Y/N! Y/N!” Lucien squirms on Eris's shoulders, making him groan in annoyance when his sibling tugs on his dark auburn hair. 

Lucien leans little grabby hands down to you, motioning you to pick him up into your arms. Eris leans forward slowly, leaving a quick peck on your lips, as you pick up Lucien from his shoulders. You spin the toddler in your arms which makes him burst into laughter. You kiss his pink cheeks before putting him down on the ground. “Hi, Lulu.” As soon as the youngling's feet hit the ground, he rushes to the living room and stares at your fish tank, like he always does when Eris brings him with him here. 

You move from the door to let Eris walk into the house. His eyebrows are slightly furrowed as he takes in the sight of you. He wipes a hand on his hand and you can clearly sense his stress and annoyance. You stroke his forearm slowly and move his hand from his face. He grins sadly down at you and kisses your lips slowly, sighing against them while he enjoys the taste he had missed for far too long. “Y/N… I’m so sorry… He came back earlier from Summer Court and-” 

“It’s fine, Eris. Really. You don’t have to explain yet…” You whisper and give him one last quick peck before pulling away reluctantly from his strong and warm embrace. You both didn’t want Lucien to know about the reason he and Eris needed to head out of the Forest House for at least a few hours.

—

The two of them are sitting down at the table, and you hum a song softly while scrubbing the dishes from the dinner the three of you just shared. Eris and Lucien were both drawing a portrait of each other, with the crucial rule of not looking at the other contestant's paper before their ‘masterpiece’ was done. You dry your hands on the towel and look over Lucien's shoulder at his… interesting portrait of his older brother. “Oh! I forgot something.” Lucien then turns his head to you and frowns. “Hey! No peeking!” “I’m not a contestant though…” You can’t help but giggle at the youngling's serious face. “Oh. Yeah. You’re right.” He says before sticking his tongue back out, concentrating on his drawing. 

You walk around the table and lean over Eris' shoulder to stare at his drawing. The portrait was a picture-perfect representation of Lucien. “Wow… It’s pretty.” You whisper, and kiss the shell of his ear, making his cheek heat slightly at your praise. “You should see the ones I draw of you…” You purr seductively into his neck. “Oh yeah? Guess you’ll need to bring them over so I can judge that by myself. Next date, maybe?” He smile and looks at Lucien's serious face, concentrating on his drawing. “Gods… makes me want to have kids with you when the three of us spend time like that…” 

You chuckle and quickly lean to capture his lips, but Lucien's voice stops you from doing so. “Done!” He shouts and lifts his paper in the air. He slides down his chair and runs to Eris to wave the paper inches from his face. He scrunch his nose and slightly move the paper away from his face to take a good look at the drawing. You clasp your hand on your mouth to prevent a wave of laughter from exploding. You just realized what ‘something’ Lucien had told you he almost forgot to add on Eris' portrait… 

Eris' finger drags to the corner of his brow and frowns. “Is it that noticeable..?” “Well, I can see it’s on your face! Mama says we have pimples when we stress too much, that’s why I have none!” Lucien speaks up, smiling brightly. 

It’s all too much to contain your laughter. You burst into laughter, holding your painful stomach, unable to stop laughing at Lucien’s innocence and pure honesty. “What did you say about wanting children now, Er?” He only rolls his eyes and thanks his little brother for the drawing.

A/N: Yeah. It happened. We brought my boyfriend's half-sister to the restaurant for her 8th birthday (they have an 11 years age gap), and they were having a drawing contest on paper aprons while we waited for our meals. She drew him with literally the ONLY pimple he had. 🤣 And I was like, "Lol. THAT'S what having kids is like!!"

[delulu-baddie]

 girl in the mirror

a/n the song uses a male figure as the focus just ignore that :)

summary you and paige have another fight which leads to the end of your relationship

warnings some swearing and slightly suggestive content

pairing paige bueckers x reader

Based on the song 'Girl In the Mirror" by Megan Moroney

Part 2

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The girl in the mirror

She's lost her damn mind

She's gotten too used to

Cryin' all the time

I'm not sure how our relationship ended up where it is right now. Everything started off so well, dates every weekend and never wanting to be away from each other turned into rain checks and not even wanting to sleep next to one another. Here I was again crying alone in our shared apartment after yet another argument with my girlfriend.

He puts her down

She puts him pedestal high

The girl in the mirror

She's lost her damn mind

The night started off so well, Paige and I had finally found a day that worked for both of us to go out like we used to. I wore her favorite dress of mine and she had even got me a new necklace to accessorize with.

“Hey baby, im almost done I just need to put on some lipstick” I said looking at Paige who had just walked into the bathroom through the mirror. “ No rush, I just wanted to come give you something before we head out” she replied, grabbing my waist and turning me around to face her. I was met with those dazzling blue eyes and the smile that never fails to warm my heart, “what is it?” I asked her, smiling back and wrapping my arms around her neck. She pulls out a small black box and opens it revealing a gold necklace with a small plate that had the word ‘forever’ engraved in it with our anniversary on the back. I gasped immediately hugging her “Oh my gosh it's beautiful” I quickly let out, “glad you like it” she responded with a slight chuckle, “I love it” i said correcting her, “here let me put it on you”. I turned around so that she could get it on easier running my fingers over the engraving on the front. I gave her a peck on the lips and told her I'd be done in just a second and we could head out after that. 

We arrive at the restaurant and get seated fairly quickly before being greeted by our waitress. She was pretty and wasn't wearing much makeup, from what could tell she also had an obvious liking towards Paige. “Hi my name is Morgan, i'll be taking care of you guys tonight, how are you guys doing” she asked smiling, but staring at my girlfriend  we both said a quick good before starting to tell her what we wanted “I'll take the chicken alfredo'' I told her she grinned and wrote it down on the pad before turning to page with a smirk continuing to ask “And for you gorgeous?” . The comment caught me off guard, but the night was going so well, it wasn’t worth the headache of bringing it up. “Um I'll take the shrimp scampi,” Paige answered, unphased by the compliment. She told us that she would be back shortly with our orders once again making googly eyes at Paige. Of course with the popularity, I was used to other girls making comments about my girlfriend but none of them were ever made in front of me up until now and it made me feel uneasy, but nevertheless I still ignored bringing up the comment. 

We got our food and made light conversation about school and Paige's excitement to finally be back on the court this season. After about an hour it was time for us to get our check and head back home, I stepped away to the bathroom. What I didn't see was our waitress Morgan take advantage of my absence and leave Paige a note with the check.

He just walked out and she's standing right here

She loves the boy more than she loves the girl in the mirror

The girl in the mirror used to know who she was

Now she's up wondering why she's not enough

When we got home Paige immediately pulled me into a heavy kiss and things started getting heated very fast, that's until the receipt from tonight's dinner fell out of her pocket with a phone number and “just in case you get bored” scribbled on the back of it. I didn't know what I was more shocked about, the fact that she had the balls to give that to someone who was clearly taken or the fact that my girlfriend had kept it. I grab the paper before Paige can even though she did try “What the fuck is this?” I asked with an angry feeling I'm starting to get to know too well. “It's nothing” she said defensively, “Really, because it looks like you were planning to take up up the offer to use this phone number for a booty call, I knew she was giving off bad vibes. I should've never left that table.” I shot back. “Chill out, I didn’t even notice it” she said, “Oh please save the lies Paige you and I both know that's not true. What were you going to wait for us to get in another fight and go fuck her while I'm at home crying my eyes out” I replied with my eyes getting watery “well it would be nice to have someone to fuck, we haven't had sex in weeks, all you do is find something new to be insecure about and then cry because I don't want to hear you nag in my ear. Gosh y/n you're so freaking annoying sometimes I swear” she shouted, grabbing her keys and walking out the front door slamming it shut. Is that really what she thought of me, was I  just a placeholder until she found someone else just so she wasn't alone. I stood there for a second taking in what just happened and then decided to go get ready for bed, i wasn't going to spend my night crying even though it's all I really wanted to do.

She's wearing the dress that I wore out tonight

I'm the girl in the mirror, that's why

She looks just like me but I don't recognize her

She's got the same eyes but they're heavy and tired

I walk into the bathroom and look at myself in the mirror trying to take in the person I've become. I constantly look tired from the lack of sleep, I’m breaking out from the stress of fighting so much , I don't think I can take it anymore.I don't even recognize myself anymore. I used to be so happy and vibrant, now you can see the light in my eyes slowly dimming. I didn’t see what my friends were talking about until now. I'm fighting for a relationship that only one of us wants and it's becoming clear that I love Paige more than she loves me and honestly more than I love myself.

Why it didn't work, well, it's perfectly clear

That reflection was enough for me to realize that I can't do this anymore. I can't stay here wondering if she's okay all night and then have her crawl into our bed in the early hours of the morning and act like nothing happened until we get into another argument. I need to put myself first. So here I was packing a bag to go stay with my best friend for a while until I can find a new place to live and start over. I need this, we both do. We're turning into the worst versions of ourselves and as much as this hurts it's a must if either of us ever want to be happy again. I finish grabbing my last bit of stuff from the bathroom and look up in the mirror one more time catching a glimpse of the necklace she gave me tonight. It's ironic that the night she said we'd be forever turned out to be our last. I took it off  closing the clamp and went to sit it on the nightstand by her side of the bed. Finally with that I'm off to start a new chapter of my life, I grab my keys walking out of what's now just her apartment, i’ll come back to get the rest of my belongings, but this was needed, I'm making the right choice for both of us.

I loved the boy more than I love the girl in the mirror

You can't love the boy more than you love the girl in the mirror

[gigabyte-flare]

There's No Escape (Part 2)

Part 1

Summary: Just when you start to get comfortable in your new lease on life, your past comes rushing back to chase you down. Literally.

Pairing: yandere!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

Word Count: 2.8k

If any of the warnings below trigger you, please kindly pass on this fic 

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life; if you feel this way, please go touch grass

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT OR I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL YEET YOU INTO THE GODDAMN SUN. Thank you!

Warnings (may not apply to all parts): Sex, gaslighting, swearing, stalking, acts of violence, blood, dubcon, kidnapping, pet names (baby, doll, angel, sweetheart, etc.), PTSD triggers, unprotected sex, forced breeding, daddy kink, manipulation, oral (m and f receiving), choking, overstimulation, knife play, gunplay, masterbation. Long story short, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. More warnings may be added in the future

Tags: @lipglossanon, @ghostkennedy, @hxllfiredoll, @nexyswrites, @ilookatlater, @shroomietrip (Shoot me a message or an ask if you want to be added to the list!)

A/N: First off, holy shit thank you so much for over 300 notes on Part 1! This community is one of the nicest I've ever been apart of, I appreciate all of you! Again, please excuse any grammatical errors in here. Dinner is officially served!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

You had slept like a goddamn rock for the last few nights

They were the first nights in three months where you were able to get a full night’s sleep without getting abruptly woken up to Leon touching you. You recall at first it was fun, he was an absolute monster in bed; unfortunately as time went by you realized he was quite literally a monster. Each night that he was home, his sexual advances became more and more twisted. Especially that one time he made you suck the end of his loaded handgun.

You’ll never forget the sick grin on his face as he watched your helpless expression.

You jolt yourself awake and shake your head, dispelling the awful memory with it. You were safe now, well away from him. You slowly sat up and stretched your arms out over your head and let out a loud yawn. You slip out of bed and put on a pair of slippers before walking out into the kitchen. Becky was standing at the island reading the newspaper and chewing on a piece of toast.

“Mornin’!” says Becky with a mouthful of toast.

You give her a nod in response as you make your way to the fridge. You grab the jug of orange juice and grab a cup from the cabinet to fill. You fill the cup before putting the jug back into the fridge.

“Still no sign of him, right?” Becky asks.

“Thankfully no, he’s definitely back at his apartment by now. Haven’t heard a peep.”

You can only imagine how violent his reaction to you being gone was. He absolutely hated it when things didn’t go exactly as he wanted. That’s fine, he can have his hissy fit in D.C.. You took gradual sips from the orange juice before discarding the empty cup into the sink.

“Got work today?” Becky inquires.

“Yeah.”

Becky was able to secure you a tech support job at a law firm for when you moved into Boston. You were extremely grateful for that. Thankfully you had saved up money prior to Leon forcing you to quit your job in D.C., but that money was starting to wear thin. The job was entertaining from what you gathered in the last couple days. Lawyers were extremely tech illiterate to the point where it was almost impossible not to laugh on the phone. 

You go back into your bedroom to get dressed into a polo shirt and a pair of jeans with sneakers. You put your hair up in a ponytail before going into the bathroom to put some light makeup on. Work was extremely close by, you could walk to it, which you decided to do since the weather was so nice. You get into your cubicle and start taking calls.

“Did you charge it last night?”

“Thank you for calling tech support, how can I help you?”

“Hi, yes? My laptop won’t turn on.”

“You know what, no I didn’t. I bet the battery’s dead. Thanks!”“Thank you for calling tech support, how can I help you?”

“My mouse doesn’t work.”

“Is it plugged in?”

“Of course it’s plugged in! I’m not an idiot-- oh… wait… it’s not plugged in. Sorry to bother you.”

“Thank you for calling tech support, how can I help you?”

“Found you, sweetheart.”

Your eyes widen as you hold your breath. This has to be some kind of sick joke. You regain your composure and hang up on the caller; it sounded like Leon but you weren’t 100% sure. You try to track the number they called from, but it came up as an unknown caller. Whoever it was, they were using a burner phone number. The phone rings again immediately and you answer it.

“Who are you and what do you want?!” you scream into your headset.

“Whoa hey, what the hell!? I’m calling because my internet’s not working!” they say, the person clearly being a different caller.

You log out of the call queue to collect yourself. You rub your face into your hands. You hear footsteps walk over to your cube and you look up and find your boss standing there.

“Oh my god… I’m so sorry,” you rub your eyes before continuing, “I just had a prank call. Did you try restarting the router?”

“Oh ok, no worries! No I haven’t, I’ll do that now, thank you miss!”

“Everything alright here? I thought I heard you yell,” your boss asks.

“Yeah sorry, there was a prank caller. I think they were using a burner phone to call in.”

“Ah ok, that doesn’t usually happen here but there’s a first for everything. Definitely take a breather before you log back in, ok?”

You give your boss a nod before he walks away. Before logging back into the queue, you look into the call history. Your stomach drops when you see that the unknown caller called your phone directly, not into the tech support line.

It was just a prank caller, don't psych yourself out, you think to yourself as you close your eyes and take a deep breath.

There was absolutely no way Leon could have found out where you worked that quickly, it had to be a prank.You log back into the tech support queue and finish out your day thankfully with no other prank calls.

Even though your apartment was a 10 minute walk, you decide to order a taxi instead, the prank call still making you anxious. When the taxi driver arrives, you confirm your address for him and he takes you home, the drive takes less than 5 minutes. You thank and pay the driver and quickly enter your apartment. 

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Leon was thankful that you hadn’t turned around and seen his familiar lifted Jeep Wrangler with tinted windows parked across the street from your apartment as he watched you hurry inside. He turned his attention to the laptop he had open on the passenger’s seat. After a few keystrokes, several camera feeds popped up on the screen. 

At some point when you and Becky were both out in the last couple of days, Leon had broken into the apartment and installed several hidden cameras. He enlarged one of the cameras where both you and Becky could be seen standing in the kitchen and enabled the audio.

“Hey! How was your day?” Becky asks.

“Eh, it was alright,” you reply, “I got the creepiest prank call today.”

A smirk began to cross Leon’s lips.

“It wasn’t him, was it?” Becky inquires, the concern evident in her voice.

“No way! There is no way he figured out where I went that fast.”

Leon let out a laugh, “Underestimating me is your first and last mistake, dear.”

“I’m going to take a quick shower. Want me to order pizza when I come back out?” you ask.

“Yeah sure!” Becky replies.

Leon immediately switches the camera feed to one that is inside a vent above the shower. He hears you enter the bathroom and shut the door. As he hears the ruffling of clothes, he begins to undo the belt on his jeans, grasping his hardening cock in his left hand. He sees your arm reach into the shower to turn it on and let it warm up. 

If only you knew that you were putting on a personal show just for Leon to enjoy. Picturing your horrified expression only aroused him even more.

Your naked form then came into frame, his cock pulsing in excitement as he began to stroke it vigorously. His eyes were glued to the laptop screen as you lathered soap onto yourself. He began to let out quiet whimpers as he got closer and closer to his release, the whimpers getting progressively louder. Suddenly, with a shudder of his body, he let out a guttural moan and came all over his hand and his jeans. His moment of euphoria was short lived as the disgust of having cum all over himself overtook him. He slammed the laptop shut, grabbed a small towel from the back seat and wiped the cum from his hand and jeans as best as he could before throwing the towel back to the backseat. 

His ice cold eyes glare at your apartment door before he starts the engine in his Wrangler, driving off into the Boston night. 

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

You and Becky decide to go out that weekend into Chinatown to get hot pot. Becky knew of a great restaurant called Shabu Zen, she claimed they had the best hot pot in town. You haven’t had hot pot before, so you were going to have to take her word for it.

You both enter the restaurant and the hostess seats you two in the corner. You sit on the side where your back was to the wall, you never wanted your back exposed, ever. Your waiter comes over and takes your order for drinks, Becky ordered a margarita, you simply just asked for water.

“We got through the first week in Boston together!” Becky exclaims, lifting her glass, “a toast to being Bostonians and no creepy ass ex-boyfriends!”

“Hell fucking yeah, my friend!” you respond, raising your glass of water and clanking it against her margarita.

The waiter comes back over, and you both put in your order of broth and meats that you’ll be having for hot pot. You two make small talk about work before the waiter comes back over a short time later with plates full of different veggies, noodles and meats. Another waiter behind him sets the broth on the burner in the middle of the table and turns the burner on. 

“For real though, thank fuck you got out of there when you did, I know you haven’t told me everything that fucking prick did to you but… I’m just glad you’re not dead.” Becky states as she starts piling food into the broth.

“I know… I still need to look up a therapist that I can go to so I can move on. I feel like I close my eyes and his face is the only thing I see.”

Becky scoops out noodles, meat and veggies out from the broth and starts eating, “Who would have thought such a hot dude would turn out to be a fucking psychopath.”

“It’s always the ones you least expect, Becky. I should have seen the red flags,” you say as you also scoop food out from the broth. 

Your eyes happen to wander around the restaurant to the other patrons as you slurp up noodles; it was mostly younger people with one older couple seated at the table next to yours. Your eyes settle on a dark corner of the restaurant where you see a man seated by himself. You stop mid bite, your eyes locked on the man. You recognize his short dirty blonde hair immediately. His cobalt eyes burned into your skin. He was even wearing that fitted black shirt that you used to love so much. There is no doubt in your mind, Leon is in the restaurant.

Becky notices your freaked out expression immediately, “Hey, what’s wrong?”

You blink a few times to make sure he wasn’t a figment of your imagination. Much to your dismay, he wasn’t. You watch a devilish smirk spread across his lips before he puckers his lips at you.

You suddenly dig your wallet out of your purse, throwing several twenties onto the table before getting up, “we have to go. Now.”

“Wait, what? What’s going on?”

“No time, we need to leave,” you grab Becky by the arm and practically drag her out of the restaurant. 

You both bolt onto the sidewalk and you walk briskly down the street towards the depths of Chinatown, still pulling Becky along.

“Are you going to tell me why you just dragged me out of Shabu Zen?”

You look back and see Leon step out of the restaurant; he looks around and quickly spots you and Becky, giving chase.

Becky, seeing your panicked expression, looks back and sees what has you spooked, “Holy fucking shit how did he fucking find you?!”

“I don’t know but we need to lose him, got any ideas?”

“Yeah, let's get to the Orange line. We’ll lose him in the subway system.”

Becky grabs your hand and leads the way running. You occasionally look back, each time your heart sinking as you see Leon’s face in the crowd, running after you. Having a military background, it wouldn’t take him long to catch up.

Thankfully, you both get to the Chinatown stop for Boston’s T subway system and bolt down the stairs.

“Listen to me carefully, it’s going to get awfully confusing so I need you to follow me closely, ok?” Becky says, looking back as she scans her Charlie card and goes through the gate.

“Yeah, got it.”

Becky throws her Charlie card to you. You scan it and get through the gate and catch up to Becky. You turn around just in time to watch Leon vault over the subway gate with the grace of a panther. Thankfully, the next train was just pulling in as you two got to the train platform, you both bolt inside one of the cars and try to cram yourselves into the most crowded car.

“Ok, we need to get off at Downtown Crossing, then we pick up the Red line to Park Street and get on the Green line there. Then, we get off at Government Center which will then loop us back to the Orange line, ok?” Becky explained quietly.

You nod before scanning your eyes through the car, but you can’t tell if Leon’s on the train, you’re just going to have to assume that he is.

“Next stop, Downtown Crossing.” the T PA system called out.

“Ok, here’s our stop, as soon as those doors open, we make a b-line to the Red line to Alewife.”

As if on queue, the doors open and you and Becky practically launch yourselves out of the car, you don’t bother to look back to see if Leon is following you. Becky has a vice grip on your hand as you both get to the train platform for the Red line. Again luck was on your side, the doors for the Alewife train just started to open and you and Becky dove inside one of the cars and, once again, made your way to the most crowded car.

You repeated this same maneuver again at the Park Street stop and again at Government Center. Just like Becky had said, that eventually led back to the Orange line, which you both took back towards Forest Hills, getting off at the Back Bay stop, which thankfully was close to your apartment. You both ascended the stairs to the street level and stopped to take a breather.

“Holy shit I can’t believe that worked, where do you think we lost him?” you ask.

“I don’t know, once we were on the first train in Chinatown, I stopped looking for him.”

“Me too.”

When you both finally could catch your breaths, you proceeded to walk down the street back to your apartment.

Neither of you would be sleeping that night.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

He lost track of you and your friend after getting off at Park Street. He ascended the stairs to the street, kicking a trash can over in frustration. You were so close to being back in his grasp.

And you would have been if it weren’t for that bitch, Becky. He knew that she smuggled you up here away from him, convinced you to leave him. She filled your head with nasty lies about him, she must have, why else would you leave him? He let his anger boil inside him as he walked down the street. He couldn’t help but notice several women gawking at him as he strolled down the street. He winked at some of them, seeing them visibly swoon at him. Oh how he enjoyed toying with their hearts.

It was a small bit of enjoyment he had since the world started to repeatedly fuck him over. First it was his new life in Raccoon City, then Operation Javier, then the incident in Spain with Los Illuminados. It was a couple years after returning from Spain that he met you at a bar in D.C., you had noticed him sitting alone at the bar and walked over and talked to him. It was the first ounce of normalcy he ever felt in his life since he graduated from the Police Academy. When you two started dating, that was when he decided he was never going to lose you, no matter the cost. 

Again, his thoughts returned to your friend Becky. She took your princess away from him.

And she was going to pay dearly for it.

Part 3

[savemefromanepicoftimewasted]

In Every Trio There's Always A Duo Final Part

John Price X F!Reader

You nodded, resting your palm atop of his wrist with a soft smile. John worrying over you was becoming a pastime that neither of you were going to be able to break.

A/N: ahhhh! here we are! the final installment to this little fic series! I hope everyone that loved and read this, also loves this lol, as always feedback is highly appreciated WARNINGS: mentions of PTSD, flashbacks, mentions of past injuries, trauma, John being soft(i love that old man so much)

“Simon…”

Your heart was racing, it had been so long that you’d had to face him, hell you could see Johnny standing just a few feet behind him as if he was a scolded child. It sickened you in a way, they weren’t respecting your wishes to meet on your terms. Why were things turning out like this? You were doing just fine, physical therapy was starting to fix the damage done to your leg, and yes, while you knew it would never go back to 100% use, you were fine with that. This though, this was something you’d wanted to avoid for the rest of your life. Simon and Johnny had ruined your life for months, had made you feel so miniscule and small. You were nothing more than a nuisance to them until you’d been captured by the enemy. John had been the only person to pick up the pieces, to help rebuild you as a person.

“We wanted to talk with you about everything.” Simon’s voice didn’t hide his emotions, they were laid bare in front of you.

“Simon, you can’t be serious right now, I asked for you to give me more time, this is the exact opposite of that.” Anger was simmering in your veins, a pot slowly beginning to boil over.

“I understand that, but it’s been over a year and you won’t even look at either of us.” Simon’s brow furrowed, lips pulled into a harsh line.

Your teeth gnashed together as you tried to swallow the hurtful remark that laid on the tip of your tongue. If only he knew exactly how you’d felt about the entire situation, maybe he would begin to see the real you. John placed a palm on your lower back, hoping to help not only steady you, but also calm you if he could. He’d been against you speaking to Simon or Johnny until you felt truly ready, and right now he was ready to reprimand both men.

“I think it’s best if you two leave. Now.” John wasn’t going to take no for an answer, if push came to shove he would do whatever it took to protect you. You’d suffered enough.

“Sir, you can’t be serious.” Simon was astounded, was he really about to send the two of them away because you were upset?

“I am, I have to protect my fiance, and if that means the two of you leaving, then so be it.” John’s gaze hardened as he stared them down.

Simon opened his mouth as if he wanted to retort before thinking better and deciding to grab Johnny and leave. Tears slipped down your cheeks, ruining the light makeup you’d put on before you’d left to go to lunch. It didn’t matter, you could always do yourself up for a new date night with John, but knowing it was because Simon had ruined such a special day for you? You were angry.

No, you were downright livid.

“Can we go home? I’d like to lay down.” You huffed softly, loosening the tight grip you had on his coat.

“Of course, do you want any help? Or are you alright to head to the car?” John didn’t want to rush you, even though he wanted nothing more than to be home with you as well.

“I’m all right, the sooner we get there, the sooner we can leave.” Your steps were slower, your body still tense after seeing Simon and Johnny so suddenly.

You had thought you were passed all of this, that you could face them without the terror locking your muscles to the point you were a statue. Apparently that wasn’t the case, and now you weren’t even sure you’d ever be able to talk with them again. PTSD had plagued you for so long that you weren’t even sure therapy was helping anymore. You knew the people who’d taken you hostage were dead, John accidentally let it slip during a casual dinner. He wasn’t ashamed of it, he’d been on a personal rampage to find you, and damn anyone who stood in his way.

Of course you knew deep down you would do the same thing had John been stuck in the same situation. It was a need to protect one of the people you were the closest too, it didn’t matter that you couldn’t walk without a cane, or that your hip locked up most mornings. You would do whatever it took to make sure both yourself, and John were happy.

“How did they even know we would be here?” There was no reason for them to have shown up, not if John had only called Alex and Farah for the surprise.

“I’m not sure, the only thing I can think is Simon saw my calendar down at the station.” It was the only explanation you had at the moment.

“Probably, better keep a better hold on it in the future.” You waited until John opened the door, turning your body slowly as you got into the car.

John waited until you’d situated yourself, tucking your legs in before grabbing your cane and laying it on the back seat. He was always afraid something would happen if the two of you were to ever get into a car accident so he never risked your safety. It was another thing that had made you fall further in love with him. Neither of you were perfect people, there was no doubt in your mind that any normal person would think you were a monster. You’d killed people to make sure more didn’t die, went to defend innocent civilians from the war path of an angry person.

Your heart was racing as you watched the other man knock both John and Johnny down, muttering how this would be their final moments. Johnny threw himself off the ground, the knife he’d had strapped to his thigh plunged deep into the other man’s shoulder. His scream of agony echoed throughout the train station. The Scot wasted no time in pressing his gun to the man’s head, the single gunshot was deafening as you watched with bated breath. John threw himself up and off the ground, grabbing Johnny’s vest and all but throwing him to the bombs that were still counting down. It had only taken him mere seconds before the timer stopped, Simon and Kyle finally making their way down to where you were.

The two accomplices had fled, leaving behind their leader who now lay lifeless on the shockingly bright concrete. You stood up slowly, hands shaking as you swallowed the thick bile that creeped up in your throat. Had Johnny not gotten the shot off, who knows what could’ve happened? Would the five of you have been standing together, or would someone else have lost their life at that moment?

“You doing alright, soldier?” John laid a hand against your shoulder, noticing the way you seemed to flinch.

“Yes sir, just shaken up a bit.” You didn’t want to lie, not to someone that was mere seconds away from death again. 

John nodded his head before radioing to Laswell, letting her know the threat had been neutralized as well as the bombs.

“Sweetheart?” John pinched your chin softly, turning your gaze to face his.

“Hmm?” Your eyes focused on the way his lips pulled into a soft frown.

“You alright? Seemed a little dazed.” John knew things like this could happen, it had happened to him plenty of times before.

You nodded, resting your palm atop of his wrist with a soft smile. John worrying over you was becoming a pastime that neither of you were going to be able to break.

“Just thinking about the past, got lost.” That mission wasn’t even the worst you’d been on, but it was a reminder that everything could be gone within the blink of an eye.

“I know, I’m always here if you want to talk about anything.” John’s fingers released your chin, wrapping around your much softer fingers as he brought them to his lips.

Your smile was radiant as he pressed a kiss to each finger before pressing one final one to the ring he’d slid onto your finger just an hour prior. Everything in that moment, the two of you in your own little bubble, felt almost perfect. It began to sink in that, even though you didn’t want to, you would need to confront Simon and Johnny. They were people that meant a lot to John, and you at one point, and even after everything you’d want to invite them to the wedding.

“You’re thinking too hard, why don’t we go inside so you can get changed, and then we’ll discuss everything.” John raised a brow, waiting to see if you would be comfortable moving after what had happened.

“That sounds perfect, though you’ll need to get my cane for me.” You gestured with your free hand towards the cane that sat comfortably in the back seat.

John’s smirk raised sudden suspicion as he quickly got out of the car, slamming his door before rushing over to your side. John was careful not to swing the door open too quickly, lest your body get jerked and cause any unnecessary pain for you. He reached over, unhooking your seatbelt and pulling it away from your body.

“John, what-”

Your words were cut off as he scooped you up into his hold, not even a grunt slipping through his lips as he shut the door with his foot. Your laugh echoed as he walked up to the front door, stealthily slipping the keys from his pocket to get the front door opened. It was no secret you’d gained weight after the whole abduction, having to do physical therapy and not being as active had a hand in it. 

“You are one cheeky bastard, you know that?” Even though your words would sound harsh to anyone else, the smile on your face told John an entirely different story.

“Only the best for you, my love.” John quickly got the door open, shutting the door with his foot, again, once you were safely inside. 

You rested your head against his chest as he made his way down to your shared bedroom, depositing you gently on the bed before searching for comfortable clothes. He tossed over one of his shirts that you’d stolen in the past, laughing as it smacked you in the face. His own laughter followed suit as he’d realized what had happened before finding his own clothes. 

His hands were gentle as he helped you undress, slipping your shoes off before sliding off your pants, shirt, and lastly your bra before helping you into the much softer clothing. You ran your hand along the fabric of his shirt, smiling at the faded color. It had been one of his favorites to sleep in until you’d stolen it one night, he only ever wore it when he wanted you to smell like him.

“John?” You looked up at him nervously, your smile disappearing suddenly.

“What’s wrong dove?” John sat down beside you, taking your hands into his lap.

“I want to talk with Simon and Johnny. I know what they did earlier was completely out of line, but they’re our friends, I want them to be there when we get married.” It wasn’t a decision that had come lightly, even before John had proposed you always knew you wanted the task force there.

John was quiet for a few moments, soaking in the information and deciding on what would be the best thing to say to you in that moment. You deserved to be the one to initiate the conversation, and he was happy that right now it was your choice.

“I can call him, make some tea for when they arrive.” John’s voice was soft, even though he would always be slightly angry at what they’d done, he wouldn’t shun them out forever.

“That sounds perfect.” You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, you’d need time to prepare before they arrived.

John helped you down to the living room, offering assistance only if you needed it. He knew how annoying it could be when someone offered to help out because they assumed you were too weak. It was one of the reasons you worked so well together, he knew when to push you harder, and when to be the person you fell back on. 

Once you were comfortably seated with one of the books you’d been reading, did John call Simon, telling the other man that you wanted to speak with him and Johnny. The call was short, Simon stated they would be over within the next fifteen minutes, which gave John plenty of time to make some tea. He’d all but stopped drinking after finding out that most of the pain meds you had been taking couldn’t be mixed with alcohol. He only ever smoked on base, never when you would be around to smell any of the smoke.

Knock knock!

Your heart kicked up a beat before settling down once more. John walked over to the door, greeting them both quietly as they walked into your home. Johnny took his boots off quickly, not wanting to track mud inside. Simon followed suit, making sure their shoes stayed together so they could get them back on quickly if needed.

“Come on, let’s talk.” John headed into the living room, sitting down beside you as he pulled your feet into his lap.

Simon swallowed nervously. Funny how someone who could stare death in the face was suddenly afraid of upsetting you again. Johnny stayed close to Simon’s side, plopping down in one of the arm chairs as he waited for someone, anyone to break the silence.

“You can sit down, Simon, I’m not going to bite.” You tried to smile, but it felt almost wrong.

“I’m sorry for how I acted earlier. Johnny even told me that I shouldn’t have intruded but I was so afraid things were going to get worse.” Simon wrung his hands together, coffee colored eyes flicking down to the scarred skin.

You wanted to comfort him in that moment, to tell him that everything was perfectly fine, that he didn’t need to worry. Except it wasn’t fine, nothing would be perfectly fine anymore. You sighed softly, taking in a deep breath as you waited for Johnny to say something as well.

“I…had I known what was going on, I would’ve done more to help you feel included. I felt like such an arse for being such a piece of shite towards you.” Johnny didn’t like to mince his words, he spoke his mind to whoever was willing to listen.

“That’s in the past now, there’s nothing we can do to change that.” Yes, you were angry and upset that the people you had thought were your friends didn’t seem to share the same sentiment.

John squeezed your calf softly, it was his way of comforting you when he didn’t want to say anything out loud.

“But, I want you to understand that I am still hurt by what has happened. I had always thought that we were some sort of friends, and getting kidnapped really put everything into perspective for me.” You twirled the ring on your hand absentmindedly, almost like it was a fidget toy.

“I could live a thousand lifetimes and never deserve your friendship. What we did is something that you should never forgive, we left you to die and yet you’re acting like it’s water under the bridge.” Simon was angry, not at you, but at himself and the way he’d handled everything.

“Simon, I-”

Johnny stood up from his chair, the sound of the legs scraping against the hardwood.

“We were afraid you were going to pick one of us over the other and our friendships would be ruined. It was a childish and petty thing to do and every single night I have nightmares about hearing your screams from that fucking videotape. I’ll never forgive myself for letting someone like yourself get hurt because I was scared that the one person I’d seen as a friend would lose interest when they found out more about me.” Johnny’s chest heaved as his hands balled into fists.

Your eyes widened, he was afraid you wouldn’t want to continue being friends with him because of how he acted at times?

“Johnny, is that true?” You reached down for John’s hand, squeezing his fingers lightly as tears welled up in your eyes.

“Aye. I’d always been the weird kid, the loud one, so when you came along being so friendly I was afraid I’d make you run off by being me.” Johnny’s words broke your heart, it didn’t excuse any of his actions but knowing deep down he was a scared little boy? You couldn’t even imagine.

Simon cleared his throat, wiping his palms onto his jeans as he stood up slowly. It never ceased to amaze you how much taller Simon was than everyone else on the task force.

“He’s not wrong. When you’ve been scared of making connections with people, you tend to push away people without thinking about their feelings. I truly am deeply sorry.” Simon would never be able to deserve your forgiveness, let alone your friendship, but he was willing to try.

“You two are going to make me cry.” You laughed wetly, wiping away the tears that threatened to spill down your cheeks. 

Johnny smiled softly as he walked around your coffee table, pulling you into a gentle hug so as not to cause any pain. You pulled him in tighter, laughing softly as he knelt down onto his knees.

“Thank you, truly I’ll never deserve your kindness.” Johnny whispered into your shoulder, arms tightening around your middle.

“You deserve nice things, both of you do.” You patted Johnny’s back, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before turning your gaze to Simon.

The poor man looked ready to flee the situation entirely. He’d never done well with physical touch, not after dealing with so much death over the years, but a hug couldn’t hurt. He followed suit that Johnny had, dropping down to his knees beside the couch and pulling you into a bone crushing hug. Your laugh was wheezy as you tried to squeeze him back just as hard.

“Guess I forgot how strong you were.” Simon shrugged sheepishly as he pushed himself up and off the floor.

“Forgot you don’t spend more time in the gym, not like that one over here.” Simon jerked his thumb over at Johnny who stared back offended.

“Hey, no fighting in the house you two.” You raised a finger, like a mother scolding her two children.

They both stopped any arguing, staring away from one another as you and John laughed at their ridiculous antics. It felt good knowing that your friendship would start anew. John helped you off the couch, leading the two men out and saying their goodbyes.

It was nice knowing that even though they had their reasons for acting so foolishly, they knew it was wrong and apologized. Now the only thing you would need to worry about was planning your wedding.

You couldn’t wait to spend the rest of your life with John.

tagging: @gaylemonshark

[atsuwiee]

"...did you even like it?"

in which your boyfriend, ricky, wonders if you even enjoyed your day with him or did he just completely destroy it.

pairing: model!ricky x non-showbiz!gn reader genre: fluff, angst (if u squint), oneshot, self-indulgent fic :3

warnings: mentions of makeup, written in third person, slight cursing, grammatical errors, not proofread xian's note: first zb1 fic ?!?! holy moly forgive the errors as well it's currently 2am-3am in the making of this (fic under the cut!)

"check this, it'll suit you." ricky suggests as he holds a lip tint tester from the racks of the store. you sighed at him as if he wasn't already holding three shopping bags. "ricky, i still have that one lipstick you gave me, i haven't finished that yet." you say with a small smile. "that was a month ago, how 'bout a new one?" he asks gently.

"try it on, here," he gently rubs his ring finger on the product to put on your lips but then was tapped on the shoulder. ricky's motions to you abruptly stop. there were a few people behind him and you already knew what was happening. "you're ricky? shen ricky?" one of the girl asks.

well, in ricky's attempts to go unrecognized- most of the time he fails, a pair of sun glasses failing him because of his recognizable neck tattoo and flashy blonde hair color. ricky could not control the situation but only looked back and nodded. "ah! may we have a picture?" one of them said as ricky could only agree. you took a step back at a soon forming crowd, not wanting to be present or posted on the media. it was already known ricky was taken the public never knew who exactly.

in the midst of everything, ricky noticed every move you did. to when you lowered your head, letting go of his hand, stepping out of the makeup store; he noticed it all as he was smiling for cameras, deep down he was frowning knowing you had just separated yourself.

"i'm sorry but i have to get going," he says politely as he heads out and in a hurry rushes back to you who just stayed outside of the shop. "there you are" he says in relief. "sorry that happened" he says as he lowers his head. you smile at him and grab his hand again. "it's alright, i know these things happen," you say with a small chuckle. "you're very... hm... recognizable to say the least" you joked as he only tightened his grip onto your hand, walking around again at the mall.

ricky points at a display, an expensive necklace.

"y/n here," he says and scoots you over to him. "these would suit your earrings" he suggests again with a small smile. you look at the jewels in awe but his offers were now all too much. "no" was the word that only slipped out your mouth.

he looked dumbfounded. "no?!" he almost scoffs at your words as you sighed. "come on, i'm buying it for you anyways" you shake your head again. "i would love to, but oh my fucking god ricky, we've bought too much" you point out and it makes him almost frown at the thought he couldn't spoil you as much now. you chuckle at his antics and give a kiss on his cheek. "let's head to dinner now, yeah? i'm afraid staying in here longer will drive you to buy the whole mall" he chuckles at your statement but nods, taking your hand.

as you both walked, the same thing happens again, a few people coming up to him and asking for a picture or trying to get to talk to him. this wasn't new to you as he was famously known for being a model and you were almost used to it but you also wanted to keep yourself private from the public. you back away again and ricky quickly tries to wrap it up with these people to get back to you. he knew you hated crowds.

it happened during dinner again. mid-conversation with him some fan of his had tried to come closer.

"ricky-ah may i--?" "...so you were saying, dear?" ricky diverts his attention immediately back to you, driving the fan away and listening to your stories you didn't get to tell him in a while.

arriving back home, your feet were almost sore from being too hyper and checking every store but energy drained from the day. ricky helps you get ready for bed knowing how tired and drained you must've been trying to avoid the crowds that approached him.

as you tossed and turned in bed to get comfy, he only stared at the ceiling. after long silence, he taps on your shoulder.

"y/n? dear? may i ask you something?" "go ahead, dove, what is it?" you ask in between a yawn. his heart only beats rapidly when he hears the nickname dove- something he still couldn't get used to.

"...did you even like it? like, did you even like today?" he asks anxiously waiting for your answer. "did you even enjoy? and no, i don't want you to say 'of course', i want... i want you to be honest" you turn to shift positions, fully facing him as his voice softened even more and a small frown forms in the corner of his lips. "i did, ricky. i absolutely did, i missed you so much. i missed our dates- i'm being honest when i say of course i enjoyed" you say then tilted your head as he spoke again.

"it's just- god, those fans were something- i know you hate crowds and i couldn't help but- you know... think you didn't like that date because-" "because of a situation you can't control? nonsense, ricky" you completed his thoughts and it never fails to amaze him that you always know what he'd say. he nods at your words and you pull him close to you under the covers.

ricky holds you as well, taking in the scent of your hair's shampoo. "you spoil me so much and i enjoy every second with you. going out or just lounging around, nothing could ever ruin it for me" you were quick to reassure him. ricky sighs in relief kissing the crown of your head.

"get to sleep, dove, i know you rarely rest" you say and he chuckles. "says the one who sleeps at four in the morning" you pinch his nose at his statement and he playfully winces.

after that, he gazes at you, lovingly.

"i love you, so much. so damn much" ricky speaks in a hushed voice and kisses your lips softly before letting the both of you rest. "i love you more, dove" you sigh and finally rest in his arms

"i love you most-" "shut it, ricky, get to sleep. i win."

he chuckles. once again, kissing your forehead and finally resting as well. ricky in a state of peacefulness as his soul intertwines with yours for the night.

[bambikisss]

Take you out :: C.Guesung

-> NASCAR Champion! reader

-> After a race, your boyfriend comes to surprise you and offers to take you out to celebrate. However, after seeing what you're wearing, he gets second thoughts.

-> Warnings: car sex, rough sex, slight public sex, Guesung wants you all the goddam time and is always willing to get on his knees or pull down his pants for you, oral (female receiving), pussy worship, squirting, big D Guesung and knows how to use it

-> A/N:... this man got us all in a chokehold, huh? and with this man being tall (and having so much body) you know he has a big di- Honestly, this is just small plot + smut, lol.

Not proofread

TAGLIST: @minaamhh

"Congratulations again, Y/N on your win."

You thanked your manager again as you closed your front door, taking off your shoes as she went over your new schedule. You had just finished a racing tournament that made people from all around the world know about you, and with that came the need for you to be on shows so people could get to know you more. You didn't mind, though. It kept you busy.

"So, after practice tomorrow, I can look into pushing back the talk show appearance so you have time to freshen up." You mindlessly made your way through the living room as you listened to her, pausing when you saw your fiancé leaning against the kitchen counter, making you smile. "I'll call you later, something important just came up." You quickly said goodbye before hugging him, asking what he was doing home so early. You knew he had flown out to Spain for some training and wasn't supposed to be back until after two more months. Guesung pressed a kiss to your cheek before looking down at you, rubbing your back as he shrugged. "After hearing about your win I thought I'd make the trip to come see my lovely fiance to celebrate."

You met him when he first joined Korea Hyundai Motors as you had a few friends there too. You were at a party when Heung-min introduced you to him; the blond boy with the beauty freckles all over his face. For him, it was love at first sight and was attached to you at the hip. He would call and text you whenever he could, making Heung-min a bit pouty as he was used to being your best friend, but he was happy you were getting along with him. What he didn't expect was for you both to get together and then get engaged a year ago. If you were to ask him about it, he'd get teary-eyed and say "I put together the best couple." And, you honestly couldn't thank him enough.

"I already booked us a nice dinner at that restaurant you love. So, all you have to do is go get ready." He kissed your forehead before watching you rush upstairs to get ready. Once he was sure the door was closed, he went into the guest bedroom to get ready himself.

You were thankful he did that as you wanted to surprise him with your dress. As you searched through your arrays of dresses, your eyes landed on one that still had a tag on it. You picked it up as you bit your lip, smiling as the memory filled you.

"I bought it for you." You held up the dress as Guesung wrapped his arms around your waist, smiling against your shoulder. It was a beautiful dress; elegant yet sexy, just like you. "I thought we could save this dress until a special occasion."

That was two months ago. You both had become so busy that you didn't really have a special occasion to wear it to. To you, this was a perfect opportunity to wear it; it was a special event, right?

You got dressed before doing your hair and makeup, smiling at your reflection. The dress hugged you in all of the right places, showing off all of your curves. It gave you a boost in your confidence and made you feel so sexy. You decided to play into the feeling, putting on your favorite perfume before finishing getting ready, and admiring yourself in the mirror. You looked good; damn good.

After admiring yourself, you descended down to the stairs to meet Guesung, who was once again leaning against the counter. His hair was slicked back as he wore his signature ear cuffs along with his suit. He looked so good, which made you want to jump onto him. You decided to put it on the back burner and jump on him after dinner. Gueung, however, didn't have the same amount of control as you. When you reached the bottom of the stairs and asked him what he thought, his breath hitched at how beautiful you looked. He had secretly hoped that you would wear that dress and now that you were and he saw you in it, it made him wonder what was the point of going to dinner. Why couldn't you guys celebrate here?

"Are you sure you want to go?" Guesung wrapped his arms around you as you did the same, pressing kisses to your cheek as he held you. At his question, you let out a small "yes" as you laughed. Guesung continued to press kisses to your face, slowly moving down to your neck as his hands began to move over your body, moaning softly when he met the skin of your thigh before asking his question again. You ran your hands into his hair as he moved to press you against the counter, winning when he began to suck on your neck. Guesung had long forgotten about dinner, more focused on you than anything else. His focus was broken again when his phone rang, reminding him of the whole reason why you were wearing the dress. "Come on, baby." You gently moved away from him as he gently pouted, grabbing your keys as he followed you to the car.

Even though you were a champion racer, Guesung refused to let you drive. It was against a principle of his to let you drive when he was fully capable of doing it for you. You used to argue with him about it, but after a while you let it go.

Guesung, however, was now regretting not letting you drive tonight.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see you applying lip gloss, one leg crossed over the other which showed your thighs. He was a sucker for your body, willing to do whatever you wanted to worship it. If you let him, he'd go all night.

He could feel his pants tighten as you tried to adjust your dress so you could take a selfie, a soft groan leaving your lips as you switch legs. His grip on the steering wheel had gotten tighter, looking for any place to pull over so he could fuck you.

"Guesung, baby, what do you think of this picture?" He waited till he pulled up to the red light before looking at it, biting his lip as he tried to not groan. Your cleavage was showing, pushing up the necklace he had given you a few months ago while your face showed how confident you were. Yes, you were pretty and had put so much time into getting ready, but he honestly couldn't take it anymore.

You yelped lightly as Guesung made a U-Turn, slightly speeding towards a nearby parking garage. He was glad it was almost empty, whipping into a nice parking spot away from the other cars before he got out, slamming the door. You wondered if you had done something to make him upset, opening the car door as he neared your side. Before you could start your apology, you were cut off by him kissing you. His hands gripped your thighs as he yanked you toward his body, his face moving to stuff into your neck as he pushed up the skirt. "Guesung, calm down! Whats going on? What about dinner?"

"Dinner is going to have to wait, baby. Gonna have desert first." While you knew Guesung was a patient man, he was also desperate for you at all times, and who were you to deny him what he wants?

You tossed your head back to rest on the headrest as he kissed down your body, his hands spreading your legs as his knees hit the parking garage's concert floor. He placed one leg onto his shoulder as he moved your panties to the side, leaning down to kiss the inside of your thighs as he looked up at you. "No dinner then?"

"What's the harm with having desert first?" he placed one more kiss on your thigh before licking your pussy, moaning at your taste as he continued to lick you. Guesung took his time with you, whispering praises to your pussy as he licked and sucked anywhere he could. He was loud as he sucked on your clit, slowly pushing a finger into you.

"Fuck, Guesung hurry up. You're eating me out like no one can come by and see us," you moaned loudly as he curled his finger, placing your hand into his hair to pull him closer as he chuckled. "You act like I care if anyone comes by and see me eating out this beautiful pussy."

He did speed up though, adding another one as he continued to moan out praises, whispering for you to cum for him. You whined out his name as you did, gripping the seat as he added another finger before he continued. He curled his fingers chuckling as you tried to move away from him. "No, baby, let me make this pretty pussy squirt for me, come on."

"I can't, Guesung, baby," you watched through half-closed lids as he shook his head, before adding his fourth finger, curling them as his lips wrapped around your clit, showing no mercy as he moved. "Yes, you can. I can already feel how tight this pussy is around my fingers. Let go, baby. Be a good girl for me."

You let your eyes roll back as you did, wetting your seat along with his jacket sleeve. Guesung let his tongue run up his forearm to clean up your juices, removing his fingers from you before his tongue move to clean you up. You had to push his head away as the feeling became too much, your legs shaking around his head as he kissed your clit. He gently placed your leg back down standing back up to rest against the car as he watched you try to calm down.

When you had enough energy to open your eyes, they fell to his hard bulge, making you groan. Guesung was already removing his belt as you tossed away your panties, spreading your legs out once more as he picked you up, placing you into the backseat. He wrapped your legs around his waist, pushing into you slowly as you met his lips. His hips immediately picked up a rough pace, rocking the car as he cursed lowly. "Shit, baby calm down," you tried to press your hand against his chest to make him calm. He did slow down, gyrating his hips to meet yours as he rolled his body. "Calm down? Why should I calm down when I got access to the prettiest, wettest, fucking sweetest pussy a man could ask for?" He rested on his forearms as he leaned down to kiss your body, smirking as you moaned his name loudly. He didn't care that you both were fucking in a parking garage; as long as he heard you scream his name, he was ok.

You dug your nails into his shoulders as he picked up the pace, tilting his head as he noticed you tightening around him. He could tell you were close, his hands moving to play with your clit as he moved faster. He kissed your forehead as you arched your body to meet his own, his hands gripping you as he whispered into your ear "hold on, baby. Not yet."

Guesung placed you down next to him on the seat before having you straddle him, placing his hands on your hips, helping you sink down onto him. "Ride me, baby, that's it. Bounce on this cock," he kissed your neck as you moved, moaning softly as his hands gripped your ass.

You tried to hold off, whining into his neck as he started snapping his hips into you. "I'm going to fill you up, baby. Cum with me, baby," he pulled back to meet you in a kiss, rubbing your sides as you both came.

He breathed heavily against your lips, carefully laying you back down on the seat as you ran your hands through his hair, trying to coax him to keep going. Your words worked, as he continued to continue his rough pace into you, winning into your neck how much he loved you; "I love you, baby, my baby." "You make me cum so hard, I love you."

You welcomed the feeling as you both came once more together, running your hands over his body as he rested his body on yours. "I'll make it up to you... for skipping dinner."

"Don't worry about it, baby." You sat up next to him as he gently held your hand, taking a second to enjoy your embrace before cleaning you both up, then returned to the front seat as you relaxed in the back. When he began driving again, you asked where he was taking you both. "Home. We can get something delivered then I'll show you more about how much I missed you, if you can take it."

You met his eyes in the rearview mirror, smiling as he winked at you, showing you that tonight would indeed be a long one.

[dreamsgalore]

Star-Crossed Chapter Two (Supergiant) - NSFW [Suguru Geto x Reader]

Summary: [adj] (of a person or a plan) thwarted by bad luck. not favored by the stars. ill-fated. refers to any lovers whose affection for each other is doomed to end in tragedy.experienced! suguru geto x inexperienced! reader

❥ status: completed

❥ content warnings: explicit sexual content. smut. dom/sub undertones. fem! reader. shy reader. dirty talk. inexperience. virginity mention. pet names. teasing. kind suguru. fluff at the end. cunnilingus. overstimulation. foreplay. light manhandling. reader's first orgasm. fem orgasm. hints of size kink. praise kink.

❥ note: This story takes place before the Hidden Star Plasma Vessel Arc of JJK> It's also more of an AU, taking place when all characters are 18+.

AO3 LINK | Story Directory

Ever since your last encounter with Suguru, you haven’t been able to think of anything else. Even when you were out doing the simplest errands, you would get the most minor reminders of him. Whether it was the savory scent of his eucalyptus cologne at the florist or the taste of his favorite soba from the shop across the street, you couldn’t get your mind off of him.

 It had been a few days since you last saw him. He told you that Jujutsu High was going to keep him busy for the next few days but as soon as he had free time, he would stop by. 

You didn’t know much about Jujutsu High, only that Suguru and his friends were very dedicated to whatever they were doing there. Sometimes he'd come back to you after being gone for a week or so, stressed and worn out. 

You had to remind him to take care of himself mentally and physically or else he’d burn himself out. He would just smile as if nothing was wrong and tell you not to worry yourself. He felt he had to carry this burden on his own but you wanted to show him you were there for extra support.

Sugu

[3:23] Are you home, love?

You hastily grab your phone and read the message, a grin spreading across your face. 

(y/n)

[3:23] Yeah! I’m home!

[3:24] Are you coming over? I miss you.

Sugu

[3:26] I’ve missed you too.

[3:26] Yeah I’ll be over later. I’ll bring some groceries.

[3:27] I’ll cook for you tonight ;)

Dropping your phone, you rushed into your bedroom and started digging through your wardrobe looking for something to wear. Usually, you would wear whatever’s comfortable and call it a day but tonight, you wanted to wear something special. You wanted to convince yourself it was because Suguru was cooking for you but you secretly were wishing that there was a repeat of the other night.

Eagerly, you changed into a baby pink satin slip dress that hugged your curves in all the right places. You did a quick turn in the mirror, admiring yourself for a moment before opening your jewelry box and putting your favorite diamond studs in your ears. For makeup, you kept it simple and went for light mascara and eyeliner. You finished the look with a thick strawberry-flavored lip gloss. 

By the time you finished getting ready and tidying up around your apartment, you heard a knock at your door. Your heart throbbed and for some reason, you were starting to feel anxious once again. Maybe getting dolled was a bad idea. What if he thought it was too much for a home dinner? Groaning, you pause and take a deep breath.

“Just answer the door. Just do it.” 

Hastily wandering over to the door, you swing it open to reveal Suguru standing there casually with two bags of groceries in his hands. He was more casual in his dress, wearing an oversized band tee and baggy jeans to match. His long, black hair was tied up in his usual man bun and a silver chain carelessly hung from his long neck, glistening under the fluorescent lights of the hallway. 

“Wow, babe.” He grins at you, taking in you in all your glory, “You look beautiful.”

Before you could realize you’d moved, you had your arms wrapped around his waist in a warm embrace and your face pressed into his chest. The familiar scent of that high-end cologne you loved wafted over you, relaxing your every muscle.

“I’ve missed you so much.” You look up at him, “Are you feeling okay? Are you eating well?”

Suguru sighs and kisses your forehead, “I’m doing just fine, sweetheart. You’re always taking care of me so I wanted to take care of you for a change.”

You bury your face into his chest again, “You do more than enough…”

Suguru heart flutters at your softness. Only you could make him feel this defenseless. 

“Come on. Let me make you dinner.”

Suguru spent the next hour preparing delicious homemade ramen. He admitted to not having the best culinary skill and having to look up a recipe online but you didn’t care. As long as he was making it and having fun, you were happy. 

After fumbling around the kitchen for what seemed like an eternity, the meal was finally finished. He set the pot to a simmer and made you both a hearty bowl. The two of you enjoyed dinner at your kitchen island, talking about a myriad of things ranging from how your days went to the latest episode of a mystery series you both binge. 

The rest of the night was spent on your balcony stargazing and watching the restless neighborhood below you. Suguru had propped his feet up on the railing while you just laid back and enjoyed the sounds of the hectic city nightlife. 

As you sat in silence, you began to reflect on your blossoming relationship with Suguru. You thought about how lucky you were to find someone as kind and considerate as him. Not many men were patient enough to deal with someone as new to this as you were. You knew it was a turn-off to some but Suguru respected your boundaries. He didn't make you feel bad or insecure about learning at your own pace. No matter how slow that may be. He was perfect.

“What are you thinking about, sweetheart?”

“Nothing.” You purr.

He chuckles, “If you say so.”

“Suguru?” You play with your fingers nervously, “What made you come up to me?”

Suguru peers through his bang at you, a goofy smile on his face, “You were just so adorable. I couldn’t pass you up.”

“Suguru, I’m being serious!” You whine.

He snickers, “Okay, okay. Let me think. Honestly, you looked so sexy that day. That tiny, little skirt? Those thigh highs?"

Suguru's eyes meet your legs and you press your knees together anxiously. 

"Then when I finally got to talk to you and I realized you were as sweet and innocent as could be, you had me wrapped around your little finger. I thought maybe you were playing with me, but nope, you were the real deal. Honestly, it turned me on. You turned me on.”

A wave of heat washed over your body. 

“Is that really what you thought?” You whispered, your breathing slowing as you felt a dampness between your legs.

He props his cheek against his knuckles, “Mhm. I thought about eating that little cunt of yours, too."

“B-Baby!” You squeaked, turning away from him out of embarrassment. 

Suguru grins, “I’m sorry, baby. Couldn’t help myself. Was just being honest.”

There was a pause.

“Suguru? H-Have you ever done that before?”

He perked up, “What? Eat pussy?”

You nod, keeping your back turned to him, “Y-Yeah.”

“Yes. I enjoy it very much.”

You swallow the lump in your throat. 

“Do you want me to do that for you?”

You jump, “O-Oh-! I-I…um…”

You were actually considering this. If your face could get any hotter, you’d explode. You wanted to go further with Suguru but you weren’t sure you’d be able to handle something like this. He’s never even seen you naked before! What if he didn’t like what he saw? So many questions ran through your mind. You were scared, but you trusted him.

"You don't have to answer that if you don't want to, sweetheart."

“I-I…wanna try this with you, Sugu." You turn to face him, "I wanna feel…it."

Suguru studies you, "Feel what?"

"Y-Your tongue on me…"

His pants were feeling tight all of a sudden.

"Will you be gentle?” 

Suguru hummed, “Always, baby.”

Standing up from his seat, Suguru strode over to you and held his hand out. Obliging, you take it and allow him to lead you back inside your dark apartment and into your bedroom. The space was starting to feel foreign to you now that you were in it under these circumstances. Your whole body was starting to shake with adrenaline and Suguru stopped you right at the foot of the bed.

“You sure you’re up for this, sweetheart?” 

You nod, “Yes. I want to do this with you. Only you.”

You stand on your tippy toes and pull Suguru into a heated liplock. You usually weren’t the first to initiate kisses. Suguru wasn’t complaining, however. Snaking his arms around your waist, he pulls you in excruciatingly close, your body meshing almost painfully with his own. His hands crept up the curvature of your back before dropping themselves to your ass. He squeezes it firmly, a gasp escaping you much to his liking.

“So cute, baby.” He guides you to the bed and allows you to perch yourself right at the edge. Your hands fall to your lap as he towers over you. “Do you wanna keep your pretty dress on? It would be a shame to ruin it.”

You shake your head, dumbfounded. He smiles at this and dips a finger underneath the strap holding it up, carefully sliding it down your shoulder inch by inch until your dress falls to your waist, completely exposing your bare upper body. Your mind was whirling at this point, the urge to cover yourself with your arms rising in you. 

“You’re the most beautiful woman in the world, you know that?” 

Suguru leans over your body and kisses you, engulfing you in his own overwhelming heat. His necklace dangles wildly between the two of you, the cool feeling of the silver occasionally grazing your fevered skin. 

“Can I touch you?”

“Y-Yes, please.” You murmur.

A cold hand rests itself on your breast, tenderly massaging the supple skin. Suguru studies your expression, making sure you are content before moving to capture your perky nipple between his middle and index finger. He gives it a gentle squeeze, making you squirm uncontrollably. 

“You’re so gorgeous.” He whispers as he drops to his knees in front of you, letting his hands follow behind him to your hips as he settles himself in front of your legs. 

Looking up at you with unbridled lust, he peppers sugary kisses from your kneecap to your inner thigh, slowly prying your legs open as he moves in to get a better look at your core. His kisses felt like little sparks against your skin. 

“Fuck, you’re always so wet.” He mutters to himself, hooking his fingers into your lacy panties, “I’ve thought about this for a long time.”

“Y-You have?” 

“Mhm. Told you, I’ve been waiting to eat this pretty pussy since day one.” He slides the thin fabric of your undies down your legs until they're off your body. He then stops for a moment to examine you and you clamp up.

“I-Is something wrong?”

He shakes his head, "No, baby. I was just thinking you really do have a pretty pussy. And it's all for me. May I touch it?"

You shook and gave him a nod, "Y-Yes."

He hums and settles his hand right above your pubic area, letting his thumb rub tight circles into your swollen nub. A loud moan erupts from your chest at the sensation and you fall back into the cushion of your mattress, unable to keep yourself steady anymore.

"Look at you. My tongue isn't even on you yet and you're a wreck." His thumb speeds up, "If this is how you react to my fingers, I can't wait 'til I get to fuck you."

Suguru removes his thumb, earning a disappointed whimper from you but he'd make it up to you. Gripping your thighs, he nips at the skin and gets close to your opening. You were still so wet from his previous ministrations but the thought of him burying his face between your legs made your pussy practically leak.

"Suguru, w-what does it feel like?"

"I don't know, hun. Never had my pussy eaten before." He jokes lightly. You gave him a little kick to his shoulder with your foot and he giggled. 

"I assume it feels amazing. A lot of girls like it."

"They do?"

"Yes, especially when I do it."

Another shiver.

"Most men aren't too good at it. A lot of them are fucking mediocre at it honestly. But me," His eyes flick to yours, "I'm not."

His words hung in the air. They felt like a promise.

You took a deep breath, "Sugu-"

"One more time. Are you still up for this?" He hums.

Unable to think, you just nod. Suguru didn't take this as an answer. He wanted verbal confirmation to ensure you were fully aware of what you were getting into. 

"I need you to use your words, sweetheart. Tell me what you want."

"Yes, Suguru. Please. I need your mouth on me."

He couldn't resist you. Propping your shapely legs against his shoulders, Suguru moves in close enough that his breath wafts against your drenched skin. He slowly proceeds and gives you an experimental lick up the entirety of your cunt. A sudden bolt of energy shot up your spine from his touch and you were arching up off the bed because of it. You didn't expect it to feel this insane.

"Fuck, you're just as sweet as I imagined." He moans, his fingers digging into the fat of your thighs to keep your legs from shutting against his face, "No one's ever eaten this cunt before?"

You shake your head, stunned.

"Lucky me." 

Suguru's ribbed tongue prods gently at your tiny opening, teasing you for a bit before circling your clit carefully. He diligently watches how you whine softly and tighten up every time he goes to playfully stick his tongue in your previously untouched hole. He could do that all night and have plenty of fun from it, but the urge to have you cum on his face was greater.

Skillfully, Suguru's tongue strokes your pulsating nub, gaining a loud, wavering cry from those pretty lips of yours. He was already getting hard off your taste alone but your sounds were making it much worse. He continues whisking his tongue around until one of your hands darts to his hair, seeking purchase of any kind to keep yourself from thrashing around.

"M-Mmph-" 

Your fingers faintly massage his scalp. You were no longer holding back your delicate sobs of pleasure, your hips hesitantly swaying with his motions. His dick was straining against the confinement of his jeans at the sight.

"Oh, I'm gonna end up addicted to you, baby. Those pretty moans of yours are driving me crazy." He grunts, slapping his hand against one of your ass cheeks. A ragged gasp follows.

Craving to hear more, Suguru wraps his lips around your clit and suckles hungrily, chasing your addicting sounds of ecstasy. The pleasure was starting to be too much to bear. Your moans were flowing freely from your lips now, loud enough to possibly wake the neighbors from their slumber. You were starting to feel it again. That feeling from the other night.

"Suguru-" You call his name in a pitched voice, "I-I feel it again-"

He moans into your cunt, the vibrations making you go numb for a split second. He had no plans on stopping but he wouldn't push you if you decide to pull back. Reaching upwards, his hands settle on your neglected breasts, giving them firm squeezes as he starts sucking harder on your abused core.

Your legs start to rattle and a thin layer of sweat covers your body as you creep closer to the brink of release. The muscle in your chest rapidly thrummed in your throat until it became almost painful. Your heart felt like it would give out any second and Suguru was going to be the one that caused it.

"B-Baby-", Your hands cover his own on your chest for support as you were finally teetering on the edge, "Please-"

You sounded so frightened.  He ached at hearing you in such sweet torment. His brain wanted him to back off. To let you gather yourself. But he refused. He knew that the pain would quickly fade. 

Flicking his tongue sporadically, Suguru harshly dragged you closer to him so you couldn't run off. His pointed nose was pressed flush against your skin and his mouth latched on for dear life. You couldn’t take it anymore. 

Gripping the sheets deathly tight, you slammed your eyes shut and you wailed Suguru’s name one last time into the cold air of your bedroom. You’d erupted, your body convulsing with every pulse of your walls around the empty space he left you with. Suguru secured your legs as you bucked wildly against his face, riding out the high until you were completely drained. 

Coming down from your euphoric peak, you lay motionless, utterly spent from what you just experienced. You could hardly catch your breath. You could feel Suguru press one last sloppy kiss to your core before backing away. Damn, did he look good.

He looked just as spent as you. His breathing was agonizingly slow, a thick layer of your juices covered his handsome face, and the sultry look of want was plastered over his features. He looked as if he was ready to crack and take you right there. He really did enjoy it just as much as you did.

“You alright, babe?” He asked, standing up to tower over you again, "Was it too much?"

“I’m okay. It was kinda scary.” You confessed.

“You did so well. I'm so proud of you.” He gives you a smooch and you could taste your essence lingering on his lips. “I know something like this wasn’t easy for you.”

You smile, “I’m glad I did this with you.”

You sit up and look between your bodies to see Suguru was still hard. 

“Did you want me to-?”

He shakes his head, “No, it’s okay. Tonight was all about you. We’ll have time for that soon enough.”

He rolls off the top of you and rests beside you on your queen-sized bed. He sets his hands on his abdomen and lets the chaotic energy of what had just occurred settle down. You both just took in each other's presence in tranquil silence.

"(Y/N)."

You turn your head to see him staring blankly at the ceiling.

"I wasn't completely honest with you earlier."

"What do you mean?"

"About the day we first met."

What could he have possibly meant? 

"I’m usually never nervous when I approach a girl, y’know? But you…you made me nervous that day." 

“I-I made you nervous?”

He nods, “I’ve never got involved with someone as soft and genuine as you. I was worried I’d scare you off. I come across as kind of cold to a lot of people. I'm aware of this. I'm not used to being so open with my emotions and that's something I'm working through. Honestly, I felt inadequate. Undeserving of your care. But you made me want to do better. To be better because…"

There's a pause.

"Because…I didn't want to break your heart. I don't think I'd be able to live with myself if I hurt the one pure thing in my life."

You hide your face away in his bicep, tears threatening to spill from your eyes at his heartfelt confession. He freezes when he notices this.

"I-I didn't mean to upset you-"

"I'm not upset, Suguru. I'm happy." You beamed, the salty droplets running down your cheeks one after another, "I'm happy that we met."

He sighs, "I'm happy we met, too."

<- PREVIOUS CHAPTER. || NEXT CHAPTER. ->

[berkmansimagines]

Vigilante Shit

A/N: This was really fun to write 🔪💋

Summary: You and Barry help out a family friend.

Pairing: Barry Berkman x hitman!wife reader

You don’t normally do pro-bono work but this was a special case. You’re doing it as a favor for your handler - Diane. Diane’s teenage niece, Sarah, has been getting some unwelcome attention from a stalker. The stalker is named Jeremy. He’s a twenty-something loser that works as a pizza delivery boy. Jeremy won’t leave Sarah alone. He has texted and called her so much that she’s had to change her phone number twice. The creep has even followed her to school a few times. Sarah tried going to the police for help but they did nothing. She has become so freaked out, she’s afraid to leave her home.

You used to babysit Sarah when she was a little girl. It was long ago when you first moved out to LA, before you got started down your current career path. Sarah’s a good kid. She doesn’t deserve any of this. So when Diane told you what was going on, you volunteered to take care of the problem. Diane demanded that you only intimidate the guy and not kill him. She doesn’t want to raise any suspicion from her niece. Neither you or Diane want Sarah to find out what you really do for a living.

While doing some pre-op, you discovered that the stalker lives nearby a restaurant that you and Barry have been meaning to check out. You asked your husband if he wanted to join you and he offered to help out with the job. You plan on getting dinner afterwards. Because this is sort of a date night for you and Barry, you’re more dressed up than usual. You're wearing a little black dress and did some cool cat eye makeup.

You and Barry broke into Jeremy’s place and are waiting for him to return from work. It’s a tiny studio apartment. There’s an entire wall covered with pictures of Sarah. Many of the photos appear to have been taken without Sarah’s knowledge or consent. You tear down the pictures before the stalker gets home.

You’re in the middle of perusing the liquor cabinet when Jeremy walks through the door. His jaw drops when he sees you. A hot woman is inside his apartment. He thinks he won the lottery or something.

“Hi. Uh, what are you doing here?” Jeremy awkwardly waves to you.

“Waiting for you,” you casually nod, “I was hoping to make myself a drink, but you have some terrible taste in alcohol. I mean, what the fuck is this shit?”

You hold up a bottle of Whipped Cream Vodka.

“Such a child,” you scoff.

You pour the vodka down the drain. Jeremy’s face drops.

“Hey! What the fuck?!” he yells.

Jeremy rushes toward you when you suddenly smash the vodka bottle. Glass flies everywhere. Jeremy stops in his tracks while you remain unfazed. You hold up the broken bottle like a weapon and slowly approach the stalker.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” you shake your head.

Jeremy takes a few steps back before bumping into Barry. He turns around and screams at the site of your husband. Barry is leaning against the door with his arms crossed against his chest and a gun in his hand. He coldly stares down the stalker. If looks could kill, Jeremy would be dead.

“What the fuck?! Who the fuck are you people?” the stalker asks.

“Oh don’t worry about him. You’re going to be talking to me. I’m Y/N. You don’t need to introduce yourself. I already know all about you, Jeremy,” you say coolly.

“What….what do you want?”

You smirk, confidently fiddling the broken bottle between your fingers. Jeremy is absolutely terrified. You’ve got him right where you want him.

“Listen, me and my partner over there have dinner reservations. And I’m nothing if not punctual so I’m going to make this quick. I know what you’ve been doing to Sarah. The stalking, the harassment, all of it. And it stops now. You understand?”

Jeremy quickly nods his head. He looks like he’s about to cry.

“Yes…yes, ma’am,” he stutters.

You put the broken bottle to Jeremy’s neck.

“I want you to promise me that you’ll never bother Sarah again,” you demand. “I promise!” Jeremy yelps.

“Promise what?” you press the glass shards against his neck. “I promise I won’t bother Sarah again!” he cries.

You take a deep breath and lower the bottle away from Jeremy’s neck.

“Great! Then we’re all done here.”

You nonchalantly toss the broken bottle behind you.

“Thanks for being a good sport,” you nod.

You put your fist out for Jeremy to bump. He gives you a confused look and reluctantly puts his fist out, when Barry abruptly grabs him. Your husband slams Jeremy against the wall. Jeremy shrieks in pain.

“Sorry I should’ve warned you that my partner is a little protective. He doesn’t like it when creepy stalkers try to touch me,” you snicker.

Barry puts a gun to Jeremy’s chin. You stand by your husband and get right in Jeremy’s face.

“Don’t talk to Sarah or go near her ever again. If you even so much as look in her general direction, my partner and I will come back and I promise you we won’t be as polite,” you threaten him.

Barry lets go of Jeremy and he falls to the floor. He’s crying in the fetal position.

“I think our work is done here. Come on, babe, let’s go,” you tell Barry.

And with that, you and Barry walk out. As you leave Jeremy’s building, the two of you do a cute little high five. You’re so happy you pulled this off. Now that creep will finally leave Sarah alone.

“That was kinda fun!” you giggle and scrunch your nose, “Did you hear him call me ma’am? I don’t think anyone’s called me ma’am before.”

“Yeah! You were so intimidating, babe,” Barry compliments you, “It was actually pretty hot.”

Your husband can’t help but check you out. You look so pretty. He’s impressed and proud of you. That’s my fucking wife.

“Awww thanks babe! You were good muscle,” you wink.

You and Barry get into the car. While Barry gets the directions for the restaurant on his phone, you check out your make up in the mirror. It still looks good.

“You know, I feel like I really had to hold myself back with that creep,” you quietly admit, “This whole situation got me thinking, what if we have a little girl one day and something like this happened to her? What would we have done?”

“If it was our kid, he would’ve been dead the moment he walked through the door,” Barry immediately replies in a low, serious voice.

You raise your eyebrows and coyly smile. Barry didn’t even hesitate with his answer. You’re kinda turned on by that.

“Babe…”

You rest your hand on Barry’s thigh.

“I know we made dinner reservations, but I want to skip right to dessert. How about we blow off the reservation and go home?” you suggest.

Barry’s face perks up. He stops the directions for the restaurant and puts in the address for home.

“Whatever you say, ma’am,” Barry smirks.

[w2soneshots]

Long time no see -W2S

words: 0.7k+

warnings: brief talk about a break up.

summary: you run into your childhood best friend and you remember the intense feelings you have for him.

Today it's my best friend's birthday and I'm currently getting ready to go on a night out to celebrate. I slicked my hair back, did my make up and picked an outfit. I got a text from Hannah (my best friend) that the uber was waiting outside. I quickly grabbed my bag and rushed out of my apartment.

Once we arrived outside of the club we thanked the driver and got out of the car. We walked into the club and immediately went to get a drink. After almost an hour we got bored and decided to go to another club that was just a 10 minute walk away from where we are now. We collected our things and started walking to the other club.

Me and Hannah were walking along taking when I heard my name "y/n?" I looked forward to see Harry Lewis. Me and Harry met during school in Guernsey and were great friends but lost contact when he moved away. Guernsey is where I grew up but I moved to London almost a year ago and only go back to visit. "Hey, long time no see!" I said pulling him into a hug. "how are you?" He asked as we pulled away. "good! I moved to London a while ago. I would have called but I lost your number." I said.

We ended up exchanging numbers and said goodbye. I spent the rest of the night getting pepperd and celebrating Hannah's birthday, I got home at around 3am and fell straight into bed after stripping my clothes off. The next morning I woke with one of the worst hangovers of my life. I spent most of the day rotting in bed until I started to feel a little better so took a shower.

Once I was clean and in a sweat set I grabbed my phone from my bedside table and started scrolling through my messages. Lots were from Hannah sending me pictures from last night and a sweet thank you text that read: "thank you for an amazing night, wouldn't want to have spend my birthday with anyone else❤️" I smiled at the text and replied to her.

When I clicked out of our conversation I spotted a text from "Harry Lewis" I furrowed my brows. I clicked on the text "nice seeing you again, hope you're not too hungover" I laughed. "you too, and I'm definitely hungover👍" I wrote. he text me back almost immediately "I was gonna ask if you wanted to meet up for dinner sometime, so we can catch up?" "free this Friday?" I asked. "7:00?" He sent, "perfect".

Friday came around quick, I spent the day working and got home around 5:00pm. I got straight in the shower, dried and styled my hair, put on some makeup and chose a casual outfit. Harry sent me a text saying he'd be at my apartment in 10 minutes (I gave him the location of my apartment the other day when he asked if he could pick me up). I grabbed my bag and headed down to the lobby.

Once Harry text me that he was outside I quickly ran towards his car since It was super windy. "hi!" he said before starting up the car. "hey." I said while putting my seatbelt on. We talked the for the whole 15 minute car ride and by the time we were getting out of the car to walk into the restaurant It was not at all awkward and felt like we were back in high school laughing on the way to one of our lessons.

When we got inside and sat down we ordered our food I started talking. "how's Katie?" I asked. His face dropped. "shit" I thought. "we're not together anymore." he said. I bit my lip "sorry." I said sympathetically. "It was for the best." he said. "well, Is Herb still alive?" I asked. he laughed and nodded. We continued to chat, laugh and eat as we sat in the restaurant. Once we finished our dinner we left and Harry drove me home.

"We'll have to catch up again." he said as we stood just outside of his car. "definitely. thanks for dinner Harry." I said smiling. We looked into each others eyes, leaned forward and our lips connected, my arms made there way around his neck and his at my waist. Once we pulled away Harry said "I've wanted to do that since I met you."

[tenderlyrenjun]

Married

re:preview no. 1 and no. 2

minors + bots do not interact; fic rec blogs without comments do not reblog

A/N: from a joke idea to a poor fic preview to a final fic ... here it is! and it took me a little less than 2 weeks to write this, so please take it with a grain of salt. also, ik that i said i hate childhood friends to lovers (for psych reasons), but jeno is just so friend shaped.

summary: you take jeno to be your lawful wedding date, in busan.

includes ... girl/afab reader, porn with feelings, mutual pining, strong!jeno, they’re both government officials with the city planning department, jaehyun (127) marries mingyu (svt) btw ... smut warnings ... sex dreams, lingerie, oral sex (f + m receiving), masturbation (f + m), fingering, spanking, 69ing/ish, big dick!jeno, choking/breath play, edging (kind of but not really), praise during sex but not like a kink, unprotected sex, and so, so much consent ♡

wc: 25,9k (again, i am so sorry)

again, minors + bots do not interact

“Hey … hey, wake up. The conductor hasn’t come by to punch our tickets yet, and you’re sitting on them.”

You gently pat Jeno’s face where the 5:30 sunrise glows, barely seeping down the half-shielded window; he immediately closed it, about five minutes ago, once the night ended, more irritated by the sun waking him up than moving beds from his apartment to train, but he still kept a small part cracked, as if wanting to relive the road trips home during Seollal, when you two, excided by leaving college at the earliest moment, would book the cheapest rides and get picked up before rush hour. Your long sleeves scratch along his freshly shaven jaw, like scrubbing pillowy softness into his cheeks, and he tries to ignore it – tries to ignore you, except you become extra annoying, squeezing his face harder until he has to slap your hands away to avoid sleeping on the empty hard seat beside him, the last one in this connected row, where his blazer, a less comfy pillow than your narrow shoulder, takes residence. Jeno slides his palm across yours, enveloping your wrists like handcuffs, fixing them on your thighs. You have to take a moment, tongue weighing heavy and dry. He never really lets you forget how strong he is, oblivious to it all.

Even last night, when you helped him last-minute stress pack (a.k.a. the real reason you stayed at the 00-Line apartment), you hopped on his overflowing luggage, complaining that one clap from him would snap it shut (or completely break it, but you felt optimistic!). Granted, your shoes sat on top of all his clothes, preventing it from zipping up without something weighing it down – which is why his blazer sits on the bench, not in his bag, or yours. You told him that he could put it in one of your bags, but you both knew there was no room, what with all your different wedding outfits. He deadpanned at you, hearing that revelation – the multiple wardrobe changes –, throwing his facial cleanser at your loose makeup bag (the one you ended up shoving in his backpack too).

But not everyone can just wear one suit like him! You have the pre-wedding outfit, before you change into your attendance dress at city hall while you help Jaehyun set up; then, there’s the dinner dress, which you plan on also using at the rehearsal dinner, and a dress for the real reception, and of course you need a backup in case something happens to one of those, in addition to the matching shoes, because shoes (and accessories) elevate the appearance, as you reasoned, which made him visibly nervous for some reason, as if you would leave him looking like an outsider with your family, the same family he has known since middle school. You reassured him that he will always match with you, and if not, Busan has a thousand stores to buy a tie … which would have the potential to also not fit in his bag, like the blazer, but you two – he – can make it work! He makes everything work, like a superpower.

Jeno end up wearing the blazer over his hoodie, to the station, giving him a needed second layer against the dark 16-degree weather. He looked more put together with it on, than he probably actually felt, especially considering that he only had 10 minutes to get ready before Mark drove you to the KTX station. Although, the façade breaks now that it’s just the two of you in the booth – no strangers, no coverups, no friends, no expectations; so when he picks his head up and his hoodie falls, navy fluffy hair sticking out at random angles, you stop staring at your hands below his and catch his bangs, tucking them back gently into place. You want to move him into your lap (it might be more comfortable), but not yet; the conductor still has to punch your tickets, and you don’t want to repeat Chuseok 2020 when the conductor scolded you for laying across the bench. Plus, you never really get the chance to do this with him, be this close to him, not that you don’t want to, or that it’s too hard.

You just … never get the chance.

“How are you this awake,” he groans, raising his analog watch into squinted view, nearly crying laughter as his eyes close again, cheek pressing into your shoulder, “at 5:37 AM?”

You roll your head dramatically, provoking more grumbles out of him that make you giggle as he jostles. “Some of us actually go to sleep earlier when we know that we have a schedule at dawn.” You graze your recently manicured nails into his scalp, mumbling through a smile, “You knew we were going to leave for Jaehyun’s wedding a few days in advance; you were there when I booked our tickets; he invited us to lunch because of you.” Jeno makes an objecting noise. “Ah, maybe I should’ve invited Haechan instead.”

“Hey.” Jeno smacks your thigh, his long fingers curling behind your knee to pull you closer. You gulp, praying that he cannot hear the knot in your throat. Apparently, his displays of strength are inversely related to his energy levels; the less energy he has, the more he uses his strength with you. But thankfully, he remains oblivious, poking your stomach with his furthest hand. He slinks up your shoulder, massaging down your tension to get selfishly comfortable, warm breath exhaling into your neck. “You fell asleep maybe 20 minutes before I did,” he objects, arguing the root of the problem, as if knowing that he will always be your first choice, “and that was, like, four hours ago.”

“Ha,” you laugh sarcastically, masking the new sweat on your palms under your sweater paws. You rub your hands together for a second, bouncing the heels together, before pushing him up, with all your strength, holding him there long enough – despite a series of complaints – to take the tickets from under his ass. “I wasn’t the one who said,  ‘No,’ to coffee when Jaemin offered.”

“He went to sleep when I woke up!”

“Eh,” you wave off and lay him on your shoulder again, “Excuses.”

“You’re so mean to me,” he whines, pouting, cuddling you so tightly that your revolve falters, “I’m doing you a favor, and you’re being mean to me.”

You comb his hair again, soothing all the wrinkles in his forehead, not denying it. He is partially correct. You do take advantage of his kindness – merely because he offers it so nicely, on a silver platter; it is a reason why you lo… why you … why you return it so easily, albeit quietly, like now. He will attend your cousin’s wedding this weekend; he lets you overpack his luggage; he opens his apartment to you with wide arms. And in return, you paid for the KTX tickets and hotel; you reserved a slot at a shooting range in Jeonju where your layover stops; you let him fall asleep on your shoulder right now, even though you are tired as hell, too.

Besides, your cousin, Jaehyun, probably would have invited Jeno to the reception anyways. He invited everyone, on a limited occupancy, from Eunwoo to Jihyo. And Jeno , who once wished Jaehyun to be his older brother, is pretty close with your family. There is no way he would not end up in the family photos.

“Ugh.” Jeno sits up, rubbing his eyes single handedly with the arm detached from you. “Why did we agree to lunch? We could be sleeping right now.”

You laugh at him, tugging him back down easily, and ghost your fingers in his hair. “Mingyu has to finish up some work project before they can go on their honeymoon, so Jaehyun suggested lunch to give his fiancée some uninterrupted time.”

“Boo, they’re just going to fuck,” Jeno yawns, starting to fall asleep again. “You stay over at my apartment all the time, it’s like you practically moved into my room, and there’s no way you get any work done.”

“Ha … ha .. a .. yeah …” Totally not distracted by him, or how much freer he is in his bedroom, always wearing basketball shorts without underwear as it seems, always manspreading enough for you to see. It is definitely not the same thing. You lift your head to look over the seats. “Where is that conductor? We need to get moving.”

Jeno slides you back down. “But really, you got this?”

“Ye-yeah.”

“Alright.” He nuzzles into your neck, almost kissing your skin when he tilts his chin up. Your entire body freezes for a second, anticipating, hoping, that he kisses you, any part of you. But he doesn’t. And you press your lips together, eyes closing too, just briefly, as not to fall asleep. “I’m going to take a quick nap. Wake me when we get there?”

“Yeah, okay.”

As he settles into sleep, Jeno’s head slowly nods forward, and you cup outside his cheek, catching him before he falls, lingering your nails behind his jaw for a moment, for this moment, until you spot the conductor. Amazing timing. You sigh. Jeno’s fingers twitch closed, briefly, like a reassuring hug that you misinterpret – willingly misinterpret – as something more, like this is okay, it is okay to have feelings during arbitrary moments. You inch apart from Jeno again, shifting on your hip, into the aisle, and pick up the tickets again, holding them so tightly that little veins fold onto the papers.

The conductor comes by, moving ever so slowly, like he wants to help you preserve this moment, with your best friend unconscious on your shoulder, and as though he could read your heart, he says, “You’re a cute couple."

"Ha ... thanks," you smile politely, biting your lip, grounding yourself with a look a Jeno. He spasms in his sleep, hand squeezing your thigh again. “Oh, right.” You hand the tickets over, reality resuming. You try to cease your shaking hands between your thighs, shoulders raised as awkwardly as the smile on your face, but Jeno’s hand, his strong hand, splits your legs, so you give up.

“We still have some chocolates left from White Day,” the conductor informs softly. The entire world seems to calm down, or stay asleep, for Jeno’s sake, and you don’t blame them, lowering your own tension too. “I can bring some for you and your boyfriend if you like.”

You swallow thickly, licking the corner of your mouth, considering it selfishly because why would anyone reject free candy?, but you shake your head. “No, I’ll – I’ll, ah … wait for my b-boyfriend to wake up first. H-he really likes chocolate.” Oh, my God; be cool, you scold yourself, but the nerves make you feel bad, like you are too close to Jeno or you make him uncomfortable with other people’s assumptions.

“Alright,” the conductor nods, smiling at the two you, practically repeating cute couple, “Let me know. I’ll save some for you.”

After he punches your tickets and hands them back – an archaic practice, and vain, since you checked in electronically around 5 AM – you grab Jeno’s hand.

And, in his sleep, he weaves your fingers together.

Attention, passengers: we are approaching Jeonju Station in five minutes. Please collect your items; we will be stopping shortly.

Jeno yawns awake, lulling his neck tall along the line on the backrest, kneading the kink in his spinal cord that keeps forming after he sleeps on your shoulder (he should really move onto your chest). Speaking of you, Jeno reaches at his sides, left and right, fingers dancing into the empty seats, not even finding his blazer. He peaks an eye open, wincing as the full morning light assaults his vision, then he actively looks for you, and finds you easily, already standing, pulling down your bags from the overhead hanger. A wheel jams on the railing, making you lean on your toes, shakily, to get it down, but you look unstable, so he immediately gets up, the second he sees your ankles wobble, and steadies you by your lower back, using one strong hand to bring down the luggage by its handle, his palm lingering too long.

The timing hasn’t been that great lately, these last few days – months, if he’s being honest. Like, yeah, you practically spend every waking moment together, a side effect of knowing each other since middle school and now working together on a project for urban revitalization in the lower Seoul district, but there are little things that still separate you from him. Not enough to make him feel as if you are drifting apart as best friends, as childhood friends; only enough for him to notice that he relies on you to be his personal comfort, his home away from home. And maybe, he thinks, this trip can recenter your relationship.

So, he starts by closing the distance.

Except, as strong as he might be, Jeno knows he is unaware of how much he uses at any given moment, and you tense in front of his hand, instinctively jolting up and hitting him square under the chin with the back of your head.

“Ow!”

“Sorry!” you scream, equally cringing and grabbing your hair, before finishing lamely, not knowing how to help, “sorry. You scared me.” You step into his personal bubble, practically into his chest, and grab his chin before he can cover up the temporary pain, holding him almost as long as he touched your back, except he didn’t have a valid excuse to you that long. He holds his breath, as if a doctor started the inhale-exhale stethoscope check, but you stop talking.

“You could’ve woken me up,” he tells you, moving your hand with his jaw, staring at your lips, willing you to talk or break the beat. “I know the bags are heavy,” he says, which translates to I would’ve helped you.

“Yeah, but you looked so cu … so peaceful. I didn’t want to wake you until I absolutely had to.”

Jeno nods, fair; he’s done the same in the past when you were in college, especially after exam season, after you pull multiple all-nighters in a row but still make plans with your friends. Like, there was this one time, you stayed over at his apartment, a different one than he lives in now, one closer to Uni, for Haechan’s birthday party later, and you fell asleep on his bed while he played League with Jaemin and Jisung. He ended up waking you up about ten minutes after the party started, to give you a bit more than an hour of sleep. Needless to say, neither of you were the first to wish Haechan happy birthday, for which he only accepted monetary penance, but Jeno thought it was worth it, no amount of money enough, to see your smile refreshed and echoed in your posture.

“Hey, is that my blazer?”

You glance at the lapels, slightly raising your arm as well, as if you forgot that you were wearing it. “Yeah, sorry, I – I got cold.” You slowly take it off, shaking the sleeves off your shoulders. “Do you – Do you want– ?” Do you want it back?

“No,” Jeno interrupts, fixing his jacket by the lapels over your shoulders again. “It’s alright. Wouldn’t want you to get hypothermia”

Once it situates correctly on your body, Jeno trails his hand up your arm, rubbing your bicep, sensing that the cold probably got to you, given that the loud air conditioner in the back contradicts the clear sunny sky. Then, the train stops, violently, and you both reach your arms out to steady one another, ultimately falling against the chairs, his waist pressed tightly against yours. You inhale sharply, first, and he copies you, hands brace above and below each other’s elbows. Neither of you really stand this close to each other, having too much respect for your friendship. He can name less than a handful of moments: 7 Minutes in Heaven at the beginning of 9th grade; an awkward dance at your first high school dance in 10th grade; truth or dare during sophomore year of college; accidentally pressing against you in the copy room at work after the shelves in the supply closet broke and the handyman shoved a thousand boxes next to the printer. Jeno doesn’t know what is different now; this, too, is probably another rare occurrence. He has loved you forever, never making a move, but …

“Th-thanks,” you whisper, quickly pulling away your hands.

There it is.

“No, um, no problem.”

Wordlessly, you go through the unloading motions: you stacking his backpack on the roller luggage, him taking the duffel bag that you claimed was heavy. Jeno closes the distance again, putting his hand behind the small of your back, walking you preemptively down the aisle. You slump against his palm, resting your cheek occasionally on his bicep as more people file out in the front, and he lets you, slinging an arm around your shoulders, because the fatigue is probably hitting you now that you have to force your body to move.

Once you get to the front of the train, an exit almost like a plane since you sat in the middle of the cart (not the most coveted place, since you can’t recline or get out quickly, but the easiest to snake), the conductor greets him:

“Hey, you’re awake!”

Jeno points at himself, lines forming between his eyebrows.

“Yeah,” the conductor confirms, handing over a small bag of chocolate hearts. “I saved these for you.”

“Thanks?” He tilts his head to the side as he unwinds himself from you, accidentally bumping his elbow on your head, and accepts the candies with two hands – a clear bag of shiny pink and yellow Hershey’s mini-chocolate bars. “Why us– ?”

“Okay, thanks, have a good day!” you shout, pushing him into the station, barely stopping to bow before exiting the train.

Jeno manages to catch the conductor’s last words, something about good-bye and being cute. “Do you know what that’s about?”

“Nope,” you lie badly, and he gives you a skeptical look, which you ignore. “But fr-free chocolate.”

So he lets you ignore it, eating one. It tastes good, but he swears he hears you exhale in relief.

The layover in Jeonju lasts two hours, until a little after 10:30 AM, but it feels like two minutes.

You spent the entire time latched onto Jeno, supporting your caffeinated body through all the laughter and smiles – yours and his, as you surprised him with activity after activity, a thank you for coming, for willingly enduring gossipy aunties practically cross-examining him on the reception floor and drunk uncles at the karaoke machine who would otherwise be tone-deaf without the drinks in their hands. After the first activity – a short 30-minute session at a shooting range – Jeno picked you up with his knees, spinning you around outside the building, repeatedly crushing your torso between his beefy arms. And when he thought that was it, you Uber’ed to the Jeonjuchun River and rented a couple bikes next to one of the pretty pavilions (big mistake; you had to go back to the start and wait for him there because you couldn’t keep up without your ass catching on fire!). His dumb, wide smile made you want to keep going, plus you had a last planned surprise to grab coffee and pastries at the Mural Village, having called ahead two days prior to reserve a couple of their signature glazed donuts, his favorite.

So, it makes sense that when you get on the last train to Busan, exhaustion hits your entire body full force.

As Jeno packs the bags on the overhead hanger, you sit sideways on the chair, watching him, noting how his hoodie slightly rises, right under his belly button, confined neatly by the prominent outlines in his abs. To really sell whole ‘not-checking-out-your-best-friend’ bit, lean into the spine of the booth, lazily leaning your head against the leather cushion, half-closing your eyes, lazily leaning on your own shoulder, arms folded comfortably across your stomach. You don’t know where the lie and truth meet, but you still wear his blazer, and the earthy cologne keeps you awake, as a (poor) substitute for his proximity, until he kneels down next to you.

“Tired?”

You can hear the smile in his cheery voice.

“Mmhm.”

If he were Jaemin, you might’ve cancelled every surprise (or just not planned them) and accepted his offer to take a nap in the station while the next train arrives. If he were Renjun, you might’ve left later in the day, or the previous day, or maybe not even planned lunch with your cousin, since the two don’t really know each other that well. If he were Haechan, you might’ve gotten teased after the second you stared wobbling on your toes, needing his support to get you on the train, or he would have driven all the way to Busan in that newly painted car, taking turns at rest stops. But no, this is Lee Jeno, your best friend since middle school. You used to joke that you had a platonic crush on him, that you manifested being his best friend from the moment you saw him; you just didn’t know that it meant this.

“Short on words?” he jokes. Earlier, you were more talkative than him, a side effect of being as awake as he is now, before you ate a peanut butter jaffle, nearly falling asleep as you finished breakfast, like a child after Seollal dinner with the grandparents. “You had so much to say when you were willing to let me, your best friend, starve.”

You roll your eyes, leaving them closed when he takes his seat, offering his arm as a plushie for you to cuddle; you also shift your hips, invading his personal space to lean even deeper on him. “As if you would starve. How many donuts did you eat? Six? A dozen? How many sandwiches?”

“Are you calling me fat?”

You slide your arm across his abdomen, letting your hand dangle on the other side. “I’m saying you’re just giving me more surface area to hug.”

Jeno rolls his eyes, his entire head, mocking your actions from the first train ride, “Excuses.” You slap his chest, accidentally groping his pec (you were aiming for his arm), and leave your hand there, slowly dragging your wrist down his abs (again, not intentional – and hopefully he feels that way too) to hug his waist. He brushes your hair behind your head, equally running his thumbpad along the curve of your ear. “I got this one; take a nap.”

“You got the tickets?”

“Eung.” He pulls them out of his front pocket. “Freshly printed from the KTX terminal –“ He grabs your fingers, gently rubbing them between his like helping you wash your hands. “- ink smudged under your nails.” You groan when he drops your hand.

“Bags put away?”

“Yeah, all four of ‘em.”

“Make sure the pastries–”

“Shhh.” Jeno curls his hand over your mouth. And you are tempted to lick his palm, except your mouth is too dry, so you resign to breathing through your nose above his long fingers. “Sleep; I got this.”

“You know, these seats recline …”

“Shh,” he repeats, laying you back down on his shoulder.

Unfortunately, you wake up the next hour after a train attendant bumps your booth with her snack cart. Ironic, since you had a weird dream involving Haechan as a Domino’s delivery boy (even though he hates American fast food!), dropping off a pizza with all the pepperoni replaced by Jeno’s eye smile, and you paid using a ₩100,000 bill with Renjun’s college CSA (Chinese Student Association) presidential portrait in the middle. Eh, you’ve had weirder. Like that dream – after Jeno started working out more … diligently, in college – where you basically pounced his bones at the end of multivariate calculus in the middle of the lecture hall. That, and the one with a young Bill Nye.

You inhale deeply and push your palms on either side of your legs, inadvertently groping Jeno’s thigh in the process, making him jolt too, when you get yourself upright, leaning a little more on him than the chair.

“Everything good?”

“Hmm?” you yawn, stretching your limbs under his arm, which somehow blanketed you during the ride. You spare it a glance before looking up at him again and answering his question, “No, yeah, all good, just –” Another yawn escapes you. “– tired’s’all.”

Jeno squeezes your torso into his chest. “You can go back to sleep. We have a little more than an hour until Busan.”

You nod into his hoodie, almost accepting it.

Then an egg sandwich with your name scribble on it appears in front of your nose. And you reluctantly wake up, shaking Jeno off your shoulders as the train attendant hands you a small paper food-box, the lunch that you reserved with an extra ₩10,000, in case the jaffle place was closed on Thursday mornings. With the professional photos and multilingual descriptions, you practically could not say no to the gilgeori toast.

Except, you can and you do. One bite into the brioche, after the attendant leaves, you barf the mashed pellet onto a napkin, quickly washing away the taste with some water.

“Don’t like it?” Jeno teases, giggling loudly. Then he takes a bite of his caprese katsu sando and immediately regurgitates it into an empty paper cup on the table. “Oh, ew.”

The two of you exchange raised eyebrows and nod at each other, verbally confirming, “Switch.”

As you finish your second sando, of three, occasionally nibbling Jeno’s food, just to make sure that you really don’t like it, the train unexpectedly shuffles forward, making a fast stop as if it almost missed the station – not the Busan Station, which you aren’t sure whether to be happy about. On one hand, it would mean that the conductor almost missed your stop in Busan (literally impossible, since it is a major station), if you were in Busan; on the other hand, reality, it just jerks the entire cart, your bags and everything loudly jangling above. You hear the rumpled plastic tote bag, full of pastries from a local shop near the Mural Village, squish between the luggage bags, and you immediately get up to save them.

Jeno’s hands stabilize you as equally quick, when you crossover his legs to enter the aisle. His strong fingers dip into your skin that exposes after you grab the pastries, your hoodie lifting right below your belly button. You exhale shakily and look down at him. He concentrates on reading the stats on the game he lost when you got up. You come back on your heels. Then the train jolts again, stopping for real. And Jeno grabs you harder, probably more surprised than you, given the way his wide eyes ask if you’re okay. You nod, then dig through his backpack, pulling out a Tupperware in addition to the pastry bag, and take your seat again – all while aided by Jeno’s massive hand.

He takes the bag from you, holding it in front of him on the table, as you open the Tupperware, to check if everything was all good – no broken cookies.

“Oh, thank Go– Hey!”

Jeno takes one of the cookies with bigger chocolate chips, although the edges are distorted, curved out of shape. “Yum, I love your mom’s recipe.”

You frown, whining, “I made those for Jaehyun and Minghyu.” You pinch his arm, closing the box and taking the bag before he eats everything there, too. “Plus, you ate an entire bakery in Jeonju. How are you so hungry?”

“Nothing compares to a mother’s recipe.” Jeno bites into the cookie again. You cross your arms under your chest, trying to emulate your best mom-caught-him-with-his-hand-in-a-cookie-jar state. He doesn’t crumble, but he coaxes the last bite into your mouth, smiling after you comply.

You roll your eyes, sighing, “God, these are good.”

Jeno rolls his eyes too, munching on his last sando again. “I love that you’re so humble about your baking skills,” he laughs

But all you catch are the I love you and his crinkly eye smile.

Attention, passengers: we have arrived at the Busan station. Please gather your belongings and departure the train at your nearest exit.

The actual stop is even worse, if that’s possible, than the other 500 it took to get here. And Jeno finds that he doesn’t like this train very much – the stop is too abrupt, and there was no warning like the previous ride. He might even file give a comment or two on the feedback card, assuming there is a box somewhere for it. Once, he gave a thumbs-down on a YouTube video for not effectively helping him tie his boxer hand wrappings. Or, maybe, the driver sucks.

He just hates that you wobble so much every time you stand up in the cart, even though the ride is over now. Not that he hates helping you. He doesn’t mind, almost enjoys it, if he were being honest – holding your waist between his long fingers, under the guise of steadying you or warming you up, given that he never really gets to be this close to you. And he takes advantage of the moment, of your exhaustion, inhaling the remnants of your shampoo as you nestle into his chest, face first.

You mumble something incoherent against his shirt, then groan when he laughs.

Jeno pushes you back up, for less than a second because you fight him, trapping his waist in your arms. He laughs a little bit louder, and his shoulders rise to his ears, allowing him to hug you around your neck, practically suffocating you between his beefy biceps. “I didn’t quite catch that.”

“I said –” You lift your chin, pouting at him through your eyelashes. “– the Uber will be here in five.”

“Oh, then should, um, should we …?” He gestures to the exit.

“Yeah,” you doze, shaking yourself off him, shoving your hands in his blazer pockets. Jeno frowns. He hopes you can get more sleep tonight, especially since the hotel is, like, 20 minutes away from the train station. “Let’s go wait over there.”

Jeno throws his arm over your shoulder, guiding the two of you through the automatic double doors, his hand hanging in the air above your chest. Outside, you slant onto him more, wrapping your arms around his waist again, turning your cheek on his pec, eyes half-closed too. He can smell his own cologne on your skin. But, scared that you might hear his heart skip a beat, Jeno rotates you into his neck, resting his face on your hair. He only gets half-a-second though, until your phone beep beeps, altering the Uber’s presence two meters away, which is even closer than he thought. Seems like everyone wants time with you, at his expense. But as the car pulls up, honking, confirming your ride, you yawn one more time and fix his hoodie, with your arms circling behind his head, before packing the luggage in the trunk. It takes Jeno another moment for his body to move. He waits until you have to pat the car seat to grab his attention – because no matter what, he’ll always leave an eye out for you, an ear open for you, an arm free for you. And he follows.

Everything goes fuzzy during the 15-minute drive (the driver took the freeway, rather than the streets), without an object to distract him. He basically ordered you to sleep, as if the car vibrations weren’t a strong enough lullaby, shushing you into the crook of his neck, like he leaves that place specifically for you.

“– cute couple.”

Jeno snaps his neck up. The driver’s – an older man – eyes reflect a smile through the rearview mirror, and he repeats it:

“You two,” he clarifies, “You look like a cute couple.”

The sentiment echoes later, again stealing the air from Jeno’s lungs, once you arrive to the hotel, accurately predicted by the app on your phone, not that he was counting down the meters until you arrived …

Jeno barely lets you thank the driver, shoving you through another automatic double doors set with renewed vigor. You give him a weird look that he cannot quite narrow down, so he ignores it, pointing to the front desk, unaware of how much time has passed, not wanting to block the entrance. You turn slower than him, and he thinks his cover has blown, that you will know that the Uber driver said something weird, something he has pondered since, basically, middle school. But instead of asking question, you answer the concierge’s questions: Name and ID? Credit card? Reservation for … two? Jeno taps his toes into the ceramic tile, tempted to pull out his phone, but he doesn’t, in case you need him.

Then, she makes the point that snaps his neck up again: “You two make a cute couple – oh,” she frowns, typing into the computer. “A room with two beds?”

“Yes,” you confirm, sounding like gritting through your teeth. Jeno cranes his neck forward to confirm, but as he does, the concierge grants you the room tickets and you move on, pulling him by the hand – interlaced fingers – toward the elevator, avoiding the topic.

Silently, again, Jeno follows you through Floor F to Room 23, only stopping when you roll his luggage in front of the TV and dresser. He copies you, unsure what to do or say without knowing exactly when Jaehyun, or Mingyu, will stop by for lunch; although he expects it to be soon. You put your hands on your waist, staring at the floor. He almost asks you what you’re thinking about, but you cross your arms under your chest, sheathing your hands under his blazer.

“S-sorry about that,” you whisper, so quietly that he has to step closer. “Be-because she thought that we, um, th-at we are –” You wince. Jeno reaches out, squeezing your shoulder, thumb rubbing harder to reassure you further. “– were a couple.”

“It’s o– ”

“The same thing happened with that train conductor.”

“What?”

Maybe he sounds too surprised, because you look mildly offended, mouth agape. And he pauses, for what feels like eternity, until you laugh. Then, he laughs. You sway forward a little bit, both hands landing on his chest. He catches you, steadies you, again, laughter fading into a smile.

“Sorry, about that,” Jeno apologizes honestly, by the tone of his voice: soft and comforting. He rubs the back of his neck, feeling like he owes you some sort of explanation. “I guess I was too close to you.”

But you disagree.

“No, it’s fine!” you reassure him right away, as if all his worries are ridiculous – which they might as well be, since you are his best friend (don’t tell Jaemin; although, Jaemin tends to be more affectionate than you in social settings, and they have been mistaken for a couple on quite a few occasions, even with you present). Then, you glance at your hands, darting between your fingers on his shoulders and his eyes. “I w-was probably too close to you to-too.”

And with that, you retract your hands.

But he catches them, puts them back.

“It’s okay,” Jeno promises, his palms stroking small circles into your waist. “The Uber driver also thought we were a couple.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

A beat passes.

And in that beat, Jeno realizes that neither of you are like this with your friends – you don’t hang off his arm; he doesn’t spend an entire night staring at you from the corner of his eye – and neither of you were like this as kids – you weren’t each other’s first kiss; never have you been called out for cuddling, justifying it as “we’ve been doing this since we were young!”. But this could be the residual pent-up energy from forcing his body not to immediately find you in every setting. Like, his judgement can lax while the real world pauses outside the Busan border. You know, he has let you borrow his clothes from middle school through college, to now; he has held your hand across the sidewalk, making sure that you stay on the side furthest from the cars on the street; he has hugged and kissed (your forehead) and cuddled you in the past. And each time, he shoved any inkling of feelings back down.

“I –” Jeno starts, but you are too close to his face and words fail him. He needlessly brushes hair away from your face, as if the action would bring him clarity. It doesn’t; it gives him more questions than answers, especially in the way that you slowly crawl toward his face, eyes trained on his lips. Jeno returns it, mouth parted on the last syllable he said, shoulders falling down, down, down. He slides your hips over his, stuttering his hand onto your cheek, letting you rest in his palm, your head turned, ready if he closes the distance.

You lean forward on your toes, standing tallest on his shoulders. He mimics you, getting smaller, as a way of asking for your consent, and this time, you copy him – copy what he usually does – flickering your gaze to him until enough time has passed. You get closer … closer … closer …

Ping!

“S-s-sorry,” you mumble, pulling out your phone from your back pocket but not pulling away from him. Jeno bites the inside of his mouth, unsure whether to move, since you don’t. One breath escapes his lips, mutually breaking the moment. “It’s – It’s Jaehyun – Oh,” you exclaim, as if realizing the proximity for the first time. You step back, escaping his grasp, pointing toward the bathroom at the front of the room. “I-I sh-should get ready. He – He – Jaehyun, my-my cousin, um,” you stutter, shaking your head at the ground, “I don-I don’t know why I’m telling you that; you know him.” You grab your duffel bag, but it pounds the floor. Jeno thinks you weren’t aware of how heavy it is, and he raises his eyebrows. “Anyways, -” You smile at him, hands pressing into your hips. “- he – Jaehyun – will be here in 30 minutes. I-I’m gonna go change an-and get ready in the bathroom. Yeah, uh, bye.”

You slam the door.

Another five minutes later, after he collapses on a bed, it hits him: Jeno almost kissed you.

Lunch goes off without a hitch. Mingyu picked an Italian place called La Bella Citta, which was originally meant to cater their wedding, until Jaehyun decided that he wanted traditional food at the reception. It is a pretty expensive place, hence why they paid (partially because you and Jeno are the siblings he never got). And the lunch followed a simple formula: Jeno makes a (bad) joke; Jaehyun brings up an unrelated anecdote, chuckling prematurely at just the thought; Mingyu laughs too hard, accidentally spilling champagne; and you get a bunch of memories, smiling fondly as Jaehyun cleans Mingyu’s shirt with a Tide pen.

Well, there was this one thing.

Your risotto didn’t taste very good – the rice was overcooked; butter had been added over oil; the dish lacked its creamy texture, more soupy in consistency. Thankfully, Jeno exchanged half his steak with you (not the tenderloin part, of course). No one would have noticed; had you not been so obviously gawking at him for the gesture, because it sparked Mingyu’s clumsy ass to comment something about doing the same for Jaehyun in the past. And then Jeno turned it into a competition for which of them has exchanged more meals with the Jung family (although you don’t share the same last name; you are part of the family by extension).

While they battled it out, with Jeno winning since he did take your egg sandwich on the train earlier, Jaehyun poked you in the arm. “So you brought him?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Is that a problem?”

“No, no,” he shook his head, “I just thought you might bring Jaemin or Renjun – I never see Renjun, and he buys really good gifts.”

You snorted. Yeah, right. Renjun bought a choco pie for Jaemin’s birthday, like, at midnight, from a convenience store; he bought Jeno PJs, even though Jeno doesn’t wear pyjamas (you can attest); and he bought you a thrifted candle holder which broke after you put an electric candle in it. If Jaehyun wanted a good wedding gift, he should have told you to bring Jaemin. Still, you would’ve brought Jeno; like, no matter what, you would have asked Jeno first, and he would always say yes. Even during that awkward orientation week in college when his physics professor caught him shotgunning two beers at the same time right before class (it happened twice); you begged him to go to office hours with you, needing constant reassurance that you did not, in fact, sound like an idiot.

“And I thought you liked Jeno,” you frowned.

“No, I do; probably not as much as you, but of course I do. If you didn’t tell me before the wedding invites went out, I would’ve sent one to him myself.”

After that, everything everywhere happened all at once; you didn’t have time to contradict him, or self-reflect – Mingyu spilled more champagne; Jeno leaned his arm behind your chair, using his other hand to pull you closer, to help you avoid touching the entering wedding party; Jaehyun tilted his big ass forehead at you knowingly. You were almost relieved to head back to the hotel, instantly collapsing on your bed without changing out of your Sunday finest clothes instead of responding to Jaehyun’s cryptic observation.

“I’m dead; I’m dead,” you complain, throwing your arm over your eyes to block out the golden hour seeping into your room. Dramatically, you fall backwards onto your bed, relaxing your entire body into the comforter. You peak under your arm to find Jeno when he doesn’t respond, and he smiles back at you, hanging up his blazer before taking a running start.

“Oof!” Jeno flops like a fish beside you, covering his eyes too. “All of us are dead,” he jokes, referencing the drama he started last week. You started it first, binging it a couple days after it aired, but when he told you about it, you didn’t have the heart to tell him that you’d already seen it and watched half the season with him. It became part of your daily lunch routine, not that you know how long it will last. Your urban revitalization project is temporary, a bit long term temporary, spanning until maybe October, but still temporary.

You shift onto your side, hands folded in prayer under your head as a pillow, scanning his peaceful face. “Hey,” you whisper tentatively. You wait another few seconds (maybe even a minute) before opening your mouth, hand reaching out to touch him. “Jen, I –”

“Yeah?” his voice rasps.

“I j-just wanted to thank you for coming with me today,” you change your mind, recoiling before he opens his eyes, which he does, peering at you with the same wide curiosity as the day you met him, “And switching meals with me all day. I – I –” You inhale. “– I really appreciate it, really … appreciate you.” You whisper the last bit, hoping that he doesn’t catch it.

But he does.

“Of course,” he tells you, like he could never say no. And suddenly, you cannot recall an instance when he has ever denied you the thing – he shares his food with you; he helped you spontaneously paint your apartment at 3 AM; he gives you his clothes at the crack of dawn. “You’re my best friend.” Now you can remember the moments – he wouldn’t do the laser tag tournament with you (and Jaemin); he turned down your invite to The Griffin Bar; and worst of all, he outright refused to go to Renjun’s Single’s Appreciate Day party with you. “I’d do anything you ask.”

You roll onto your back, facing the ceiling, and close your eyes.

“Jen-Jen-Jen-Jen-Jeno, Oh!” your rapid legato whimpers wake Jeno up.

First, his body reacts, an involuntary twitch from his feet to head. Next, everything above his torso moves, his arm covering his eyes. He turns into his elbow, away from the window that isn’t as bright as he thought it would be. He, then, remembers that he, somehow, fell asleep on your bed, or you two fell asleep on the same bed; neither of you really got the chance to figure out the sleeping arrangements, since yesterday had so many activities. Not that it mattered, or was a bad thing; you did spend the previous night in his apartment, in his bed. Granted, you slept feet to head, him on top of the duvet with another blanket.

Jeno drops his arm down his cheek, cautiously opening an eye to the other half of the bed.

His hand and jaw fall.

You moan his name again, mouth gaping at the ceiling, eyes twisted shut while your back arches off the mattress. At some point in the night, you must’ve changed, or you wore that lingerie set under your dress the entire time at lunch. Jeno cannot help it; his eyes find your tits spilling out of your teeny-tiny mesh cups that don’t look like they would cover up very much skin anyways. He tries to move to your face, but his willpower fails, and he looks for the source of your moans: your hand between your legs. Unfortunately, you still wear the matching, lacy panties, and your palm hides just how wet you are, the other fisted into the sheets by his thigh.

Jeno bites his lip. Why would you wake him up like this? Do that next to him? … Unless …?

Experimentally, Jeno leans onto you, pressing his still-clothed chest over you bare arm, the one attached to the blanket, clawing it roughly. He kisses your shoulder, ghosting his index finger down your naked stomach. Your moans get louder, more encouraging, so he doesn’t stop. God, Jeno wonders how you have this pornographic glow at golden hour, before the day even starts, that he cannot get enough of. You arch further off the bed, into his touch, making his fingers pad deeper into your skin, increasing their pressure until he gets to your pussy. He cups around your hand, guiding the way you grind into your own hand. But desperate for more movement, maybe more of him, you scissor yourself. And he can feel it, feel your knuckles flex, forcing your thighs separate for the deepest stroke.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.”

“To-touch me, please, Jeno, touch me.”

Jeno inserts his fingers with yours, simultaneously rutting his fully erect penis on your leg, which makes him realize that he is too clothed, but he doesn’t want to pull away from you. Instead, he straddles one of your legs, grabbing the opposite side of your neck. Blindly, using his tongue to find your most prominent vein, he sucks at your throat. He kisses you, kisses your neck, sloppily, repeatedly, until you whine even louder. Jeno has to break away, moaning into the air, his chest sweating through the white whore shirt. The two of you might get a noise complaint; is it bad that the potential turns him on? He barely gets to return to your neck, barely gets to make that wet mark even more tender, when you reverse the positions.

You push him back down, temporarily, just long enough to flip your hair over your shoulder and climb his waist. And apparently, he makes a strangled sound, because you release his shirt, smoothening out the wrinkles, mumbling something about buying him a new one later, but the entire action makes more of your hair fall down, so Jeno sits up quickly. You slide down his lap, only stopped by his long, thick cock standing under his pants. His dick outlines your ass curve, pushing your cheeks further apart. With the new position – the better position – he shoves your hair back, fisting it into a ponytail the same way you fisted the sheets, exposing your neck again. He starts a new hickey, too impatient to find the last one (it is on the other side), sucking his way down. Your bra straps fall down your biceps at this point. The plastic little adjuster springing free with your tits as Jeno bounces you in front of his cock, too much acceleration rolling your body on top of his chest that he has to force his body to slow down before he cums prematurely. He wants to cum inside you.

The decision to end the foreplay, the juvenile grinding, occurs when you rip his shirt open, mumbling something about buying him another later. Your nipples rub on his pecs, almost purposefully missing his, circling around the areola. He grunts throatily, catching your ass and pulling your cheeks apart, slapping them twice, fast, as a punishment for your sopping pussy teasing him, ghosting his cock.

“I want you,” he breathes, “I want you so bad.”

“Then, fuck me.”

Jeno hooks a finger around your panties, moving his knuckle slowly over your clit until your legs shake as much as his do. He gives you a quick look, a quick kiss, before lifting you on your knees, positioning his cock between your legs. You brace your hands on his shoulders, lowering yourself with his hand on your hip. He gets halfway in your pussy, the both of you throwing your heads back, moaning to the ceiling. After a brief recovery, he trusts in all the way.

Jeno stutters his hips down, preparing the next thrust, his eyes shut tighter than your pussy walls around his dick.

Then, he wakes up. For real.

He jumps, in a cold sweat, the birds chirping outside. And maybe, Jeno should be concerned now. Initially, he just looked for you, as the first thought crossing his mind while he opened his eyes – eg, when you slept over at his apartment, feet to head, him too scared to sleep next to you in case he accidentally confesses murder, or close to, during his sleep; when he slept on your shoulder in the train; this current moment.

Yeah, technically, he is in your bed – hotel bed, but still. Jeno fumbles around the mattress, untangling himself from the blanket that you probably put on him last night. When he stands up, in the small aisle between the beds, unbuttoned pants slipping off his waist, the hem covering half his feet, he recognizes that these are yesterday’s clothes, from the lunch with Jaehyun and Mingyu. He stumbles toward the night, every part of his body warm, his cock burned by the teasing memory of almost pounding you in the very bed he just woke up in. Of course it was a dream; it was too good to be real. Jeno grumbles, palming the small table for his glasses. As he puts them on, he finds the hotel stationery branded with your messy handwriting:

Left for coffee xx be back in 30 ♡

Jeno nods his head. Half an hour. The other half of the bed was vaguely warm, he remembers. He looks to the other bed – still made, pressed enough to bounce a ₩500 coin off. Evidently, you fell asleep next to him, too, and even though he cannot recall who fell first, he can recall who woke up first and how he woke up. His cock writhes, twitches under the waistband of his Calvin Kleins, no longer swinging between his legs; it wants to know how deep your vaginal canal is, and Jeno steadies it, groaning because he spent half the day steadying your pretty waist. The thought makes him involuntarily squeeze tighter, makes him realize that his underwear constricts the blood flow that rushes to his cock head, stopping at the base like a spiteful cock ring. So, he frees his entire length, shimmying his bottoms below his ass, and hops onto the empty bed, with what he assumes is enough time to finish what his dream started.

Focusing on the upper half, Jeno dry rubs his tip, roughly massaging his finger around the head, expediting his orgasm like a college freshman testing out the sock-on-the-door myth with a solo session. His fingers curl tightly around the circumference, slowing down his thrusting. Pre-cum quickly dribbles above his navel, leaking into little pools in the crevices of his defined abs. He slathers it along his entire cock, twisting his palm up and down, moans loudly bouncing off the walls. The wetness creates the foundation for his fantasy, conjuring the image of an equally moist mouth choking down his fully length, your mouth choking down his full length. Jeno knocks his head on the wall, whole body panting into the air. His hips float, too, and he chases his hand, a poor replacement for pussy or a sex toy; ass coming off the blanket as sweat builds up on his body. He unbuttons half his shirt, sliding his fingers to his nipple. That familiar tension in his stomach creeps into his chest, and his moans get more desperate, louder.

Then, as if his dream were a premonition, you come out of the bathroom, wearing a low-cut sports bra and matching tight, black leggings.

“Ah!!” you both scream.

A beat passes, maybe an hour, Jeno cannot discern between his exhibition rising and your gaping mouth.

You react first, running into the bathroom.

“I thought you were out getting coffee?!” he shouts, covering his dick with the blankets. It twitches underneath.

“Why would you think that?!” you scream back, before calming down and cracking the door open a little bit, “I got back five minutes ago. I was putting stuff in the bathroom for my shower.” God, his dick really twitches. He might even cum untouched. You sound like the beginning of a bad porno, and maybe his fantasy was an actual bad porno, but the thought of you, with so much exposed skin, willing to expose more skin under hot water. “Why are you –”

“I thought I had time!” he interrupts. He stands up and pulls his pants on, silently screaming at his boner to go away. It doesn’t. And he resigns, praying that you won’t see it. “I thought I would hear you bring me a coffee too and have time t-to-to cover it up.” You usually buy him a coffee too; you did it all four years through college – barged through his heavy apartment door, or announced it, pressing the iced coffee on any bare skin available.

“It’s in the fridge! I didn’t want to wake you after yesterday.” You slowly come out of the bathroom, and he turns around, wincing when his still-hard penis bounces against his hip. “It’s an iced coffee,” you tell him, biting your lip and avoiding eye contact. You cross the room toward the mini fridge. Jeno sucks in a breath. The coffee is inside. Of course it is.

When Jeno coughs, you immediately turn around then look away as equally fast, having accidentally made eye contact with his penis (and him with your tits, again, just like in his dream). “Do you, um, do you still want to take a shower first, o-or can I, um, get in there?” He scrunches his nose at the poor choice of words.

“N-n-y-you can go first,” you stutter through a mirrored cough.

His shower lasts the half hour he thought he had.

Overcoming awkwardness has, surprisingly, never come up in your relationship with Jeno, not even through the ungainly middle school phase, during when you confidently kept your fleeting crush on him a secret. Well, you hoped it was a fleeting crush. Those feelings bubbled up on and off for years, and currently, they were on. Last time they turned off (aka when you suppressed them), Jeno had a girlfriend, a long-term girlfriend, for two years. You thought you were in the clear, thought you were over it, permanently, especially after they got stupidly expensive promise rings, but habits are hard to break. And you crawled right back to him.

You step out of the bathroom, towel shaking out the water droplets from your hair, casually dressed like you arrived from Hongdae. The oversized shirt doesn’t stick to your skin as much as your sports bra earlier after your quick run in the streets, or the blouse that you nearly sweated through at lunch yesterday as the afternoon temperature increased to accommodate for spring. You jump on your bed. Well, you guess this is your bed, the one closest to the entrance and bathroom, because Jeno … occupied the other one. You glance at it, instinctively hiding your hands under your tousled covers, then shake your head. As you look away, you see your handwriting on the hotel stationery crossed out in perfectly straight lines (a symptom from majoring in architecture, you know) above Jeno’s cursive:

Went down to the lobby for breakfast. It ends at 11.

You flicker at the digital clock beneath a disconnected lamp: 10:05 AM. Still early. You got up some time around 5:30 or 6, your body absorbing too much sleep, having passed out almost right after getting back to the hotel from lunch. Unfortunately, Gwangbok-Dong doesn’t open until mid-morning, about 10:30, so you couldn’t buy a wedding gift yet (you have an envelope of cash for the reception, but Jaehyun added a registry link qr code on the invites). You also hoped to give Jeno more time to sleep, knowing that he must’ve gotten five interrupted hours total in the span of 36 hours. Shopping without him would have knocked out a chore, the only chore really, and then you two could buy him a tie or just wander around the area, which, come to think of it, costs a lot of money. It costs money to breathe, Jeno once joked during an ECON 305 lecture sophomore year, so now, you might as well take advantage of the complimentary bibmbap.

By the time you get downstairs, the chefs have disappeared, and only three plain bibimbap dishes remain amongst the sparse assortment of other breakfast snacks. At least this moment has somewhat perfect timing; you didn’t have very good timing earlier when you caught Jeno with his dick in hand (or did he not have good timing? You have no idea). You snake around the buffet-style tables, picking up a small mango juice and a few side dishes in addition to the main. Once you have a decent portion, you walk toward the half-empty seating area, scanning the chairs for a place to sit. You kinda look like a new high school transfer student searching for a clique – do you sit with the band geeks and their giant brass instruments? Do you sit with the chem nerds and finish the homework that’s due tomorrow? Or do you latch onto the one person you vaguely know so that people don’t stare at you for standing too long?

Yeah, you immediately find Jeno playing some cart rider game on his phone under the table. Nice to know that the sentiment is returned, ha.

“He-hey,” you mumble, clanging your tray on the metal table. “Do you mind if I sit here?”

Jeno looks up at you and puts his phone in his pocket. He gestures to the seat already pulled out, as if it were waiting for you. “Yeah, of course.”

You eat a few bites, hoping that the tension will go down the longer you are in his presence, but he fidgets by your side, rubbing his feet together loudly over the wood flooring. He gives you an apologetic stare, waiting for you to break first. Slowly, you finish chewing part of the egg and wash it down with juice, equally marveling at him, unsure how exactly to say alright, we both know that I caught you masturbating and you probably finished off in that not-so-short shower without (1) scarring the other guests and (2) completely altering your relationship. Like, you didn’t even have sex!

“About this morning,” you start, “I should’ve knocked.”

“No, no.” Jeno shakes his head. “I should’ve … not … done … that. We’re sharing a room for the weekend, an-and it’s your space as much as mine. I’m sor-”

“I mean,” you interrupt, pushing your spoon around the bowl of rice, “it happens. You – Guys get … those,” – morning wood, hard-ons, boners – “an-and it’s not like you were thinking about me. I get it.”

Jeno makes a strangled noise, so you whip your head at him. Suddenly, you notice his proximity, and you push all the way back into your chair, accidentally skidding it across the floor. Your eyes go wide, eyebrows more talkative than your sputtering mouth. You aren’t stupid; he knows that, but Jeno is too honest for his own good, even at the expense of his own thoughts. He bites his lip, evidently saying more than intended, and that is how you have known him for the last decade – overly blunt, blurting out his thoughts easily, every answer written on his face, stuck on the tip of his tongue.

And you cannot help yourself when the memory of his massive cock resurfaces, his pre-cum pooled at the neglected slit as his fingers massage right under the head. Your fight-or-flight response activated before you could make a conscious move to take the leap, to get even closer on him than the train allowed. You wonder, breath hitched, whether you idealize his cock – whether he idealized sex with you. On your end, it has been a while since you last got laid, a couple months, bit of a dry spell hitting you at the start of this new urban revitalization project to fix up the arts district around the SeMA. The initial funding took some convincing, both the government and museum not seeing the necessity, but once your team got the ball rolling and you were able to pull in Jeno, the lead architect, and Renjun, a graphic designer, you figured that time would be more in your favor.

That was not the case.

Your team leader divided the project based on skill-level, meaning that you had to cooperate on the ground level with Jeno and Renjun, planning every move from point A to point B. So, while half your coworkers enjoy hoesik, probably out there hitting on clubgoers and getting laid, you stay at the office past witching hour, hunched over blueprints and maps and expense reports. The only saving grace, really, is working with your best friend. … Your best friend who just inadvertently admitted that he jerked off to the thought of you. … Your best friend whose dick you currently think about, trying to revisualize whether you remember it correctly. Maybe you need a refresher.

“We don’t,” Jeno clears his throat, still avoiding eye contact, hands rubbing on his jeans, “um, we don’t need to talk about it.”

You bite your tongue.

Because you do want to talk about.

Geotechnical engineering, in college, was easy. Jeno received A-level marks all three terms, nearly a 100% in the second term. Designing a new plaza around the SeMA, for your project, was easy. Jeno got his first design approved by the MOLIT and the Cultural Heritage Administration, based on a 4AM napkin sketch. Fuck, even finding your G-spot in his dream was easy (although, credit is due to the movie magic directed by his subconscious). But all of those have something in common: a template. You know, like, engineering follows a basic algorithm, as do project designs. And he’s had years of experience giving people orgasms, even made a few squirt, so he can just manipulate a technique to best suit your pussy.

With this, with you, with the real you, Jeno doesn’t know what to do, or where to start, when you are so close to him, concentrating on straightening out the main knot in the tie you wrap around his neck. I’ll buy you a new one echoes in his mind, the assurance you whispered in his dream, now that you are actually out shopping. He can smell your own body wash this time, compared to the cologne on his blazer in the train station. And you probably don’t even know how hard it was for him, then, to not kiss your neck. Maybe that’s why his subconscious creates a pattern out of it: bring you close (like at on the KTX), taunt him in his dream (give him the kiss he wanted and set up something more), bring you close again.

It took a moment, both times, to actually build up tension. The first time, he scarcely kept his eyes open, couldn’t really appreciate your body, half-tired, half-scared; probably why his subconscious went easy on him last night, as if having mercy for all the dick veins in his heart. And when he caved, you caught him. Jeno spent the better part of this shopping excursion keeping his distance – e.g., even though you browsed home appliance stores together, he walked a few meters behind you, only stopping to make commentary:

“What if we get them an air fryer?” he suggested, to get out of there as soon as possible and relieve the awkwardness.

You refuted, “They already have an air fryer. Mingyu bought one, since Jaehyun can’t cook.” Right. “Makes him feel like Baek Jongwon.”

So, you settled on a nonstick, ceramic, pink Always Pan set (in addition to the cash envelope) that Mingyu might get more use out of and help lessen the dish load. But you let Jeno pick the color.

“There,” you finish, eyebrows unfurrowing. You turn him toward the adjacent mirror, arms crossed over his chest. He doesn’t immediately scrutinize your work (not that it was necessary; you have been tying his ties for formal events since MUN championships in high school). Your hands linger, warm, on his shoulders, falling slightly on his pecs. Then, you let go, palms up as if an AED machine alerted you about the next incoming shock. “I’ll either do this same knot –” A cape knot. “– or an Eldridge knot, depending on which dress I choose, but both look good for a solid color tie, like this one.”

“What about a trinity knot?”

Jeno cannot believe that he is making small talk with his best friend about the various types of knots; the same best friend who vomited into a cup 0.2 seconds after entering a bar, resulting in your entire group getting kicked out, and then fell asleep on the sidewalk outside, resulting in a cop arresting all seven of you for the night because you made it seem like you were all blackout drunk. Your relationships survived that whole mess, despite everyone losing the ₩25,000 entrance fee (although, Haechan and Renjun refused to go out with you for, like, a month). Most importantly, your relationship with him survived that; actually your relationship with him didn’t even take a hit. He nursed you back to health the next day, which might have, or not, been a symptom of his excessive drinking – tucking you into bed with a thousand blankets, bringing you 35 water bottles, taking your temperature every 4 minutes.

“Mmm,” you consider, fixing your gaze back at his neck. “Probably not. It’s not really formal enough for a wedding, and I’m already on the fence about an Eldridge knot, in case Jaehyun or Mingyu want to wear one – it’s like if I wore a white dress to their wedding. People would think that we were getting married.” Jeno raises an eyebrow and is met with silence. You drop into your hands, twiddling your thumbs, a forced laugh bubbling through your esophagus. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s, um, it’s fine,” he reassures you. He should be sorry, for making you deal with his emotions. “You could, um, tie it change it at the wedding hall, or, um, at the reception. I don’t think I’ll end up wearing it all night.”

“Or you could learn how to tie something better than a half-Windsor,” you tease, slowly lifting your head.

An identical smile breaks onto his face. “It’s a classic for a reason!”

“Call it what it is: basic.”

“I haven’t had to learn how to do other knots!” Jeno pushes your shoulder, laughing when you do. “Besides, it’s never about my clothes. I’m just the accessory, your arm candy.”

Your giggles fade, then almost as if remembering the distant morning, you separate from him. And he has to close the distance again. He tentatively reaches for your hand, boldly threading your fingers together. You don’t react, instead choosing to focus on the glass display case under the mirror. Your hair moves just a little, the strands loose from your ponytail blowing, slightly, in the wind. His hand could replace it – the hair tie – if you wanted (it’s what his subconscious wants), but you focus on the glass display case under his reflection. You fiddle with the blade of a tie that you both rejected earlier (ha, you seem to be rejecting a lot of things today). The color didn’t suit his skin tone or the garden wedding theme; Jaehyun made sure to include a sample of his bouquet in every invitation. How is he going to be a good wedding date, to you, if you can barely look at each other?

“Did I sa–?”

“Let’s buy this one,” you decide, interrupting him simultaneously. You pull the purple off him, as if un-marking him. Another stark contrast to his dream, which has him wondering whether his fantasies are boring. “Then, we can get dinner at that bistro down the road. I know you’ve been craving steak, and Jaehyun is doing a chicken-or-fish style reception.”

Jeno shakes his analog watch into view: 3:27 PM. You finished breakfast before noon. Should you leave now, you might be able to finish dinner just as quickly (or long), based on your pace eating bibimbap, and grab coffee before the café by the hotel closes.

“Yeah, okay. Sounds good.”

Jeno pays for the tie and an extra two white dress shirts (just in case), as well as a chocolate bar from the tiny stand at the register, stacked near the gift cards. You thank him, but it is the least he can do – (1) he feels really bad for this morning, and (2) you essentially paid for every other part of this trip except the food. He reassures you that you need not apologize; you are his best friend, but then you throw that back in his face when he brings up money. Both of you keep parroting “don’t worry, it’s fine” at each other, only to retreat into awkward silence.

You hold the shop entrance open for him, gesturing him out the door, then walk a pace behind him. The medium-sized, paper shopping bag swings between the two of you; well, it would, if he stood next to you.

Jeno stops.

“What are we doing?”

You pause too, body freezing mid-motion for a second, then you look over your shoulder, eyes looking him up and down. When his head tilts to the side and his eyebrows furrow, you turn around.

“We’re going to the bistro,” you answer, as though it were obvious.

But Jeno already knows that. He made the plans with you half an hour ago. “No, I mean this. Why are we –” He shakes his head again; he knows why, too. His reflection in a department store catches his eye, so he pulls you from the middle of the sidewalk around the corner, somewhat hidden behind another building. “What are we doing?”

“Jeno … are you okay?”

“I’m serious! We practically spend every day together, it feels desolate when you’re gone, and … and –” He steps into your personal bubble. “You’re not here with me right now.”

“Jen,” you drag out his name, looking away from him, “I don’t think you know what you’re saying.”

You are not hearing him.

Jeno cautiously withdraws his hands from his bomber jacket. His nails accidentally scratch the pocket inner lining, giving him a chance to back out, to reconsider his declaration. But he doesn’t need a second chance; he just needs the first chance. So, instead, Jeno grabs your palm, inching his fingers up your elbow, and scans your eyes. Without resistance, you draw him closer at his waist. The shopping bag falls down low on your wrist, drumming against his thigh and yours. He feels your leave his waist and slide up his cheek; he has to close his eyes, not entirely believing the way his body betrays him, leaning into your face.

“I … I …” he pants, head spinning.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you assuage. He can feel your breath on his lip, so he sucks in air, lips parted slightly, scared he might ask for too much. And maybe that is where you get a signal – get the signal – because he feels you rise to the tips of your toes and kiss him. “Let’s just order room service.”

Why did you say that? Let’s just order room service. The suggestion prolonged the time before you could kiss him again, because once you got back to the hotel, heels practically floating off the ground, you had to wait.

Luckily, the hotel was just around the corner. If you ran, you would have been upstairs in 10 minutes, but the two of you took your time, practically strolling through Gwangbok Road. He walked beside you this time, his pinky occasionally grazing behind your hand.

And in the elevator, Jeno became bolder. His entire body, previously trembling, gravitated toward you, latching onto every part that you would allow, and you gave him permission, made it known that you wanted him to touch you. You almost pressed him into the reflective wall, trapping him on the cold metal railing, but you restrained yourself; you already made that initial move: kissing him (well, it was the next move, since you caught him masturbating, earlier, to the thought of you. Then, he was the first person out the elevator, practically dragging you into the bedroom, nearly detaching your arm. Outside your hotel room, Jeno kissed you. Your hips knocked beside the key swipe, making it easy to fumble the key card out of your pocket and through the lock. You didn’t open the door immediately, choosing, instead, to stand on your toes, and wrap your arms behind his neck, essentially climbing him, like a tree, in the empty hallway, the shopping bag floundering on his back. Jeno paused the kiss, trailing his lips away, ghosting his breath on your tongue. His gaze flickered from your parted mouth to your eyes, and you saw his dilated pupils grow bigger. He pointed his eyebrows to the green light, right before it turned red. You scanned his face for another rejection, and seeing none, you opened the door.

But once you got inside, Jeno sat you on the bed, perching you where you fell asleep next to him last night. You dropped the shopping bag and your jacket to the floor, staring up at him the entire time, hopefully inviting. While he towered over you for this second, you admired your work – bruised lips, static hair, flushed skin, even his breath bated. Subconsciously, you touched your bottom lip, dragging it down to see if it were equally swollen (it was). Jeno took a step forward, but changed his mind, ordering room service from the restaurant downstairs through the phone on the nightstand.

Now, you flicker your gaze over his body, checking him out like a man who convinced his foreigner girlfriend not to dress modestly at the clubs. Your eyes flicker slower, up his tiny waist (that makes his flat ass appear a little plump) to his strong biceps, sleeves pushed up to reveal more skin, back to his lips, which mumble a swift thank you before returning to the edge of the bed. You slide to the very tip, spreading your legs wide open enough for him to stand between. Jeno curls his thumb under your jaw, lifting your chin, maybe admiring your features too. You hope that you look equally disheveled.

Jeno gently pins you on the bed, slithering up your torso, brushing his pecs on your tits. He grabs your waist, fingers dipping toward your butt, dragging you to meet his pelvis.

“You have to tell me,” he says, eyes closed, millimeters from kissing you again, “right now, that you want this, want me, before we do anything more.” His thumb comes under your shirt, drumming an indiscernible beat directly on your stomach, just around your belly button, almost unsure which direction to go – toward your pants, toward your bra, outside your shirt. Your breath hitches, and you feel your body sink lower into the mattress. “I need to know that we’re on the same page.”

“Can’t you feel it?” You guide one of his hands down your pants, his long middle phalanges driving cautiously into the seam. He cups your pussy, falling level on your chest. His lungs pant heavily into the back of your neck, tickling the hairs into standing up. “I want you.”

Jeno chases your lips, barely managing, “Not what I meant.” With your consent, he kisses you again, and you, consumed by his undivided heat, ignoring everything that isn’t his touch, like the white sheets rusting under your long hair as his shirt grinds into your abdomen, riding your clothes up. He hooks a hand under your thigh, switching the positions for you to straddle him. His legs stretch forward, feet planting into the ground, which gives him the leeway to sit up and brush your hair back into a makeshift side ponytail. Jeno scans your eyes, darting side-to-side, all the tension melting away after you smooth his shoulders. “I … I …”

You caress his cheek, having mercy on his dick (currently hard under your ass), and lift his chin higher. “I know what you meant.” You press your lips into his, chastely. He responds, puckering his lips each time you peck him, but he also frowns – frowns deeply enough for you to really pull away; his frown looks more intense than you felt. “I …” you whisper, sliding your arms on his shoulder, fiddling with his hair. You teeter on your knees, shifting your weight across his lap. He stops you. “I like you so much. More th-than friends.” Then you kiss him again, to wipe your confession away, because you can live with it. You can live with the repercussions of his mistake; you can be his mistake. This doesn’t have to be a whole thing. You don’t need to finish your confession with his rejection.

Jeno whimpers your name, tugging you away by your hair. “I –”

“It’s okay,” you whisper, “You don’t need to say it. Just me –”

“No, I need to –” He sucks in a breath. “Can I kiss you?”

You shake your head, an actual mistake because he freezes; you only meant it in disbelief. So, you lower down again, sliding your hands under his jaw. You turn your head to the side and mumble, “Don’t stop,” before reconnecting.

Jeno pats his palm on your pussy. His opposite hand, the one above your hip, fingers your waistband, scratching continuous circles, waiting for an affirmation. “I meant kiss you here.” He pouts at you through his eyelashes. “Can I kiss you lower?”

You shimmy off his lap, pushing him into the bed. “Everywhere,” you answer hastily. He helps you glide off your pants, and his veiny hands are all you can concentrate on, everything else blurring until he fondles your clit, above your black panties.

“Do you like this?”

“God, yes,” you pour moans into his mouth, holding his throat straight, like a tall glass for iced tea. When he inserts a single, long digit between your wet pussy lips, he winces, as if being penetrated himself, as if you found his prostate on the first try without any lube other than your spit. He adds a second finger, his longest finger, the middle finger, the ‘fuck you’ finger (literal in this case), prompting you to hump his hand. Your hips roll forward, increasing intensity. You gasp when he scissors his fingers wider and crosses them over one another, like a promise, then you bounce higher, your ass cheeks squeezing together. “Fuck, I didn’t know you could do that.”

Jeno slips in another digit, curling all three forward, his ring finger (the free one) twitching unrestricted. “I guess there’s still a bit you don’t know about me,” he blows into your gaping mouth, your moans following his rhythmically to the beat of some song you cannot think of while riding him.

You sink all the way down his hand, grinding your clit on his palm, and take off your shirt. Before your tits can spring free, Jeno pulls you close, trying to suck marks above your bra. You grate broken ah, ah, ahs, growing louder whenever his fingers sheath completely inside you. As if goading you, he slaps your jiggly ass, twice for every once you shake down. You yank Jeno away by his hair, darting through his swollen lips, his flushed cheeks, his narrowed eyes. Under you, his dick twitches.

“Should I –“ you pant, slowly stopping on his hand. But he seems not to like that response and drives his fingers back up. “Can I,” you correct, “ah, ah – Can I help you with-with that?”

“I want you to cum.” Jeno squeezes your ass cheek, and you fall into his lips again. Your tongue falls out, stiff, virtually asking for something to occupy your mouth. He takes his free hand, shoving it between your lips, pushing your tongue down, saliva pooling under his fingerprint. “Are you close, pretty girl?” His hand moves faster, rougher. Your thighs twitch. “Feels like it.” Your panties threaten to slip back into place, so he rips it. “Sorry,” he mumbles carelessly. You don’t blame him, too focused on your legs tensing up but his thumb on your tongue pushing you back down.

“Don-don’t worry,” you whimper, “I, ah-uh, have a – ah – nother pair. They’re also black, fuck, but lace. Hides better under my-my dress.” You skid lower down his waist, and his cock stands up on your ass.

“Fuck, you’re going to ruin me.”

“Untouched?”

“Maybe.”

However, you don’t like the thought, considering it unfair – unfair to him that he has to settle for a cheap orgasm; unfair to you that you cannot milk him dry between your thighs. So, you descend his legs, prying him open at the knee. You spare it a glance, covered by his jeans, wondering what it would be like to bend over it, ass in the air, spanked harder.

“Hey,” Jeno calls, snapping you back to attention. You relieve your thighs, unclenching, to stare at him. “Is this –” he inhales sharply, possibly trying to come off nonchalant, like it would be okay if you decided to stop, decided that you didn’t want this anymore; you swoon. “Is this still okay?”

“Of course.” You meet his eye. “Always.” You loop the tops of your fingers under his waistband, above his Calvin Kleins, the name brand embroidered as thick as his veins leading under it. “Can I help you with this?”

“God, yes, please,” he finally answers, throwing his head back on the pillows.

You unzip his pants, the sound bouncing off all four walls without any moans to cushion it; you could practically hear a pin drop. Jeno props himself on his elbows, and his abs crunch forward, tightening his impeccably defined six pack. Like, you already knew – since college – that he sculpted his body at the gym like Pygmalion did Galatea, but it adds pressure, not because your hand wraps around his cock (you have yet to touch him), rather because his gaze burns holes through your hands.

“You don’t,” he mumbles, “You don’t have to take it all. If you can’t. You don’t.” Jeno shakes his head, his hair shyly hiding his eyes. “I just want you, so it’s o – Fuck.”

You lick the premature bead of cum, digging your tongue in his slit to clean all of it out. Your thumb and index fingers wrap, tightly, below the glans. You bob your head a little lower, tasting just the tip, flittering your eyes to gauge his reaction. While your inexperienced days are behind you (pun intended), Jeno has this magical first-love quality about him, that makes sucking his dick seem like your first, like when two rom-com leads finally have sex, except it’s in a car on a cliffside for added drama. He appears to agree – how? You don’t know exactly for sure, but people outside your relationships have mentioned that you make a good first girlfriend.

Jeno involuntarily stutters his hips higher, pushing half his cock past your lips, making you gag. Evidently, there are many things about him you still don’t know – namely, how big his dick is. You always suspected him to be above average, especially after his sporadic growth spurts in high school, but you never imagined that this would be your way to measure him! He can barely fit half his shaft through the rim of your lips. And it gets worse (better?) when you hollow your cheeks, scraping your tongue above your teeth, because your mouth squeezes him out. Jeno mumbles a string of curse words, nearly screaming them as you suck harder, his fists twisted in the blankets. You pull off his cock, replacing your mouth with your hands, albeit tighter, and spiral your saliva down to the base, leaning tall on your knees to spit more on his tip, in the slit from where precum bubbles out.

“I told you: I want you.”

“Fuck.” Jeno throws his head back. “Okay, sit on my face.”

You stop moving your hand, subconsciously throbbing your palm to the beat of his (dick) pulse. “What?”

Jeno’s fingers tap on the blanket, his voice increasingly whiny, “Sit. On. My. Face.”

You comply, kneeling around his cheeks, knees brushing his shoulders – which still wear his shirt, nothing but his abs and penis exposed. All the cloth touching your skin makes you feel more vulnerable, most likely more vulnerable than Jeno, and he might regret this in the morning. So, as he anchors his extra-large hands under your thighs, digging into your muscles, you pinch his shoulder, like a safe word, a safety action. And he stops.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, curving his neck to see you better. Maybe you frown too deeply or maybe you are on the verge of tears, because he sits up again, immediately spinning in front of you. “Hey, -” He gingerly reaches for your cheeks, holding your chin above his fingers. “- We don’t have to do this, if you don’t want. It’s okay. I want you to want this.”

“I,” you swallow, cautiously looking into his eyes. You cover your chest, hide your boobs by your bra – the only clothing on your body - and naked arms. “I just,” you mumble before finishing lamely, face warming with his hand, “feel really naked.”

“Oh,” Jeno says simply. He scans your face indiscernibly, so you, not wanting any of this to end, raise your eyebrows suggestively and glance at his shirt. “Oh!” Jeno takes it off, elbows crossing on either side of his ears, showing off his Dorito torso. And you must have been leaning forward, because you fall into his chest, a hand bracing widely on his obliques. You sheepishly raise your face, slightly ducking under his perky nipple; you lower eye-level with it and hesitantly lick it. “Fuck. Is this why you wanted me to strip?”

You flatten your tongue under his areola, then flick upward, tentatively building more pressure until you have his waist in both your hands, holding him steady while you massage his nipples. Your opposite thumb pushes small circles where your mouth neglects, almost kneading him like that time he taught you, in Chem 224, how to use a mortar and pestle properly, holding the ceramic bowl firm against the thick pestle breaking apart various solids into fine powders. Deeming his left pec marked enough (by your nails and lips), you move to the right, leaving a moist path between his boobs, but, rather than fondling the other side, as you did when it was dry, you fist his dick, dragging him forward. You assume Jeno gets the hint, given that he traps you on the sheets, under his flexed biceps. He kicks off the rest of his pants and slithers up your body, pressing his completely naked body into yours, only your bra left as a barrier. Jeno straddles across your hips, his cock spasming, as if asking you to do the last honors while he gropes your entire lower half, massaging your ass with the heels of his palms.

“Do – do you-you still want me to sit on your face?”

“No,” he heaves instantly before doing a partial push up (push down?) to kiss you, aggressive and instant. You can feel his broad deltoids pinch together while you ground yourself on his muscles, using the moment as an excuse to grope him. He swirls his tongue in your mouth, simultaneously smacking his wet lips to you, making you constantly chase him, come up only to be pushed down again. “Fuck, mayb-maybe later.” Later. You’re going to do this again. Jeno holds his torso still, slowly moving his cock between your pussy lips, lubricating himself prepared. “I want, uh, I want to be inside you,” he moans, voice breaking, “Can I fuck you? Please?”

You guide his tip into your cunt. “Please.” And when he stretches your hole, urging his girth past the involuntary tightening, you arch your hips up. “Full, full, fuck.” He shallowly thrusts, pulling out a little bit, only to push in more. Your thighs shake, and you point your feet down, curling your toes, to keep your legs separated enough for him to go faster. But you notice that, while he pistons in and out of your cunt, you cannot feel his balls slapping your ass; you cannot hear the distinct skin-on-skin noises – that’s when you realize: he’s not completely in you, despite the full feeling practically in your cervix. “Jeno,” you whine, “Fuck me.”

“I am,” he answers, breath quivering through gritted teeth.

“Harder,” you beg, fidgeting to give him additional access, little grabby hands wriggling along the outline carved around his muscles. “More.” You claw into his well-defined six pack. “F-fill me up all the way.”

Jeno mattes your hair down with his thumbs, coaxing your eyes open again. You peak through just one, then slowly open the other; you can feel the lines in your forehead melt away. Just for a second though. Because he uses your temporary relief to bottom out. You barely process any of his movements, until he kisses you again, his thrusts stuttering too gently. His breath trembles, controlled, masking the way his hands fight some urge to bruise your hips, so you hook your shin around his strong leg and topple him. When you sink down on his dick, taking every inch, pussy working overtime to accommodate him, the both of you groan. You honk his pecs, matching each squeeze with your breath. The bedsheets rustle, having come undone with all your tossing and turning, and Jeno kicks the blankets off the bed, sitting up. He mouths your perky tits, tilting his head to the side, jaw dropping with his tongue to suck as much skin as possible. You grab the headboard, accidentally slamming it into the wall, once, twice, three, four, five times, when he circles his hips, dick flopping around inside your cervix, ridiculously deep. Jeno grabs your ass, strikes your skin hard to start bouncing you on his lap. He helps you keep his cock inside your pussy, guiding you less than halfway up and banging his skin against yours. The position pushes you forward, allowing his shaft to graze your sopping clit, vulva pinning opened.

“Ahh,” you scream, “Je-Jeno, I’m-I’m –“ You throat tightens, words choking, “Oh, shit, I’m gonna cum.”

Jeno brings his lips to yours, half a millimeter away. He grunts, abs tightening too. “Cum, baby, you can do it. You can do it. Come on, baby.” He grabs you by the throat, holding you in place as he licks into your mouth, eating up every moan, every breath, and fucks you faster. Your pussy gets wetter, more malleable, and you finally cum, toes curling, unwinding in his chokehold, tongue flopping out. He kisses your pink, plump tongue, lips smacking heavily, moaning out his nose and mouth, “Uh, uh, uh, fuck. Can-can I –“

“Cum inside me,” you finish for him, answer for him.

Jeno propels his cock a couple more times, the last one driving both of you into the air. Thick spurts of cum shoot into your pussy, almost adding another inch, the tip of his cock hitting, jerking, on your G-spot. You sit there for a little bit, your bodies slumping down the headrest, possibly addicted to the way your walls continuously milk even more cum out of him.

When he finally finishes, cum forcing its way down your thighs, he kisses you. “So … about sitting on my face?”

Your face lights up, the thought of him eating his own cum out your cunt way too exciting, and you push him on the bed, immediately popping his cock out and straddling his mouth.

An obnoxious ringing interrupts Jeno’s dream, way too early (well, anything that wakes him up is too early), and he whines at it, preferring to sink into his heated mattress pad. But the default iPhone ringtone seems especially heartless, right now, for whatever reason – even though he probably wake up earlier than this during the work week. He buries his head in his pillow, trying to force the alarm into snoozing. His nose brushes into the soft pillowcase, inhaling the aromatherapy. Then, it moves … you move. And Jeno remembers the night before. It wasn’t a dream this time.

You slam your hand on the nightstand, briefly sliding out of his arms. The alarm – your phone – persists though, falling to the floor. You mumble a small fuck under your breath, softer than last night; the memory makes his dick twitch. He feels you crawl over the edge, rustling the bedsheets, your ass brushing his dick away. You dip heavier into the side with a Herculean effort, reaching for your phone, then slide it onto the mattress under your pillow. He tries not to react, tightens his already closed eyes, but his dick twitches. Thankfully, you seem blissfully unaware, nuzzling back into the pillows, a hand crossed over your chest, breathing deeply.

Jeno exhales through his nose, relieved. You must’ve fallen back to sleep – good, honestly, with work and then the whole train ride mess a couple days ago. Maybe he can use the time to finish what he started yesterday morning. Unfortunately, when he grabs his cock, points it up, his pelvis scrunching his abs, your thighs part, just briefly, then close again. The tip catches between your ass cheeks, trailing toward your pussy, sliding with back and forth, aided easily by how wet you are. Jeno internally groans at the thought of you having a sexy dream, hopefully about him. You start swaying, and your arm starts shaking, and your breath labors – you are touching yourself: your neck, your arms, your stomach, your clit. All the shifting spurs Jeno into action. He slowly and shallowly rocks his hips forward, spreading your natural lubricant across the top half of his cock. You lean into him, hands changing to claw his burly naked shoulder, and guide his fingers to your cunt. At the new position, the closer position, he sloppily mouths the part between your neck and shoulder, his breath as hot and heavy as his tongue.

You freeze for a second, stiffening your posture, and he thinks that maybe he misunderstood or that you changed your mind, so he slowly pulls back. His cock springs free from the tight crevice, wet and warm and hard, twitching on your round ass.

“I’m sor – Did you not – I thought – I’m sorr –“

You turn around and kiss him quiet, throwing a leg over his hip. Your heel digs into his lower back, above his flat ass, lodging the tip in your pussy again. Slowly, you lower yourself on his cock, kissing him harder the further you sink down. Once he is completely inside, you pull your face back and wrap your arms around his neck, practically fusing your bodies together. Everything moves too fast for him. Jeno is unable to appreciate your touches. He makes it known with a mewl, chest beating quicker than yours. And as if you sense it – best friend intuition, you might say in any other situation where his dick isn’t in you, like wordlessly handing over a bag of ramyeon that you ‘borrowed’ from Renjun’s room – you brush a few strands of hair away from his eyes, and he opens them this time. You’ve always been good at comforting him: when he had a panic attack over losing his wallet, when he got reprimanded at work for shredding the wrong abstract, etc. He has always known it. Well, not always; he doesn’t know where it began, but he knows the feeling will last forever, like a vow. Jeno hugs you around your waist, tighter, asking you to move for more or to stop for less, because, much like last night, should you give him an inch, he’ll take a meter.

“Don’t be sorry,” you beg, humping his cock again. “I want you.”

Jeno loses balance and falls on his flat ass, his thighs sandwiched densely between yours. He fumbles around the bed, pushing away the thin sheet to see his cock disappear in your pussy. It should be impossible; you should be tight, having nothing to prep you beforehand, but maybe his stroke game last night was enough, you came twice on his cock alone, the stretch evidently lasting through now. The mattress creaks and the headboard hits the wall as you bounce firmly, knees jabbing into the bed. Your breath shakes, abs visibly flexing, and you fall forward, hair splaying over his shoulder. He licks his middle finger, then drags it under your thigh, trapping his cock in a V, using his lubricated finger for added pressure on your clit, his dick abusing its underside. His free arm belts behind your back, index finger teasing outside the rim of your asshole.

“Oh, oh,” you scream, biting your lip, pawing the comforter for some stability while he rams your little cunt. “F-f-ffuck.” He spanks your ass, dragging the meaty flesh up with a glowing hand mark. “Cu-cu-cumming. Mmm, oh my god, I’m so c-close.”

“Already? Shit.”

You tuck your hips forward, and he takes advantage, moving his hands under your torso, massaging your clit with all his fingers and sucking your tits. The repetitive sounds synchronize – your whimpering, his whimpering, your skin slapping into his, the bed springs screeching, your cunt squelching. All of it overwhelms his senses, and had you not been so close to his ear, Jeno would’ve missed your mantra:

“Jeno, Jeno, Jeno,” you squeal, moans getting increasingly louder, “I’m cumming, I’m cumming, cumming.” Your pussy drools cum down his legs, and he gradually decelerates, riding out your orgasm.

A beat passes, full of tense heavy breathing, before he pants in your face, nearly screaming (as if you hadn’t done so a moment ago, in his ear, with his face buried in your neck). “Breakfast,” he says simply, loudly, trying to hear himself through the ringing in his ears that preserves the way your moans sound, as if this could end on Monday morning when you get back to your real lives – which it could. You never said what this is. “Should we, um, should we get breakfast?” He remembers your alarm, trying to suppress the hardness in his cock, as if this were all just a formality, a complimentary wake up call not provided by the hotel, and he looks away, but he doesn’t go far, only dropping to your lips, not wanting to part, even in his view. “You know, that first meal of the day, typically eaten during moan-morning, often in, um, including rice, eggs, milk –”

Jeno flickers his eyes away from your lips, catching you gazing at him. Somehow you make it less creepy than when he does it. There was this one time at the end of high school when he checked on you, in the next cubicle over, in the library, only to find you asleep on your textbook, relying on osmosis rather than flash cards to study for the CSAT; 15 minutes passed and he felt like he regressed into that middle school nerd who just stood there, wheezing. Or that other time in international student building during college when Renjun slapped him on the arm because he was staring at you too long; he lied, saying that he was just making sure you got the right coffee from the vending machine, but Renjun knew. Jeno is convinced that his entire friend group knows how he feels about you – Haechan tried setting him up with you back in high school; Jaemin practically read his diary; Mark … Mark might actually be the only one who doesn’t know, for sure, but he definitely suspects something!

You grab his chin, snapping him out of his thoughts, and search his face before kiss him, your eyes fluttering closed as you grind him through the overstimulation. “Cum in me,” you order, “I’ll milk your cock dry.”

“Fuck,” Jeno breathes, never detaching his lips. He hugs low on your waist again, slapping your ass with both his hands. And when he can’t take it anymore – take the grinding, the clenching, the bouncing – he mumbles your name in your mouth, “Baby, I ne, uh, I need to cum. Let me cum inside you,” he takes you up on your offer, like the more-than-decade-long pining stops at a dam, at your answer.

Wordlessly, you shove you tongue in his mouth, cradling his cheek as he leans deeper between the pillows. You grab whatever length of his cock that is not in your pussy, and he whimpers when you throb your hand around him, teasing the other half inside your cunt. Jeno scoots forward, using the momentum to slap himself all the way in you, making your hips stutter. Fuck, you’re tight. And he knows that it’s a dumb myth for the vagina to be this compact, narrow canal, but your wall muscles barely conform to his girth, and the thought boosts his ego, so he holds you steady against his chest, repeatedly ramming your pussy with long thrusts. Your tits jiggle off your chest, scraping his pecs, almost slapping him in the jaw as he tilts his head up to suck more bruises under your chin, to soothe you from all the choking last night.

“Je-Jen,” you stammer, “I don’t –“ You swallow, shaking your head. “My legs are-are going to giv-give out.”

“It’s okay, baby, just breathe,” he tells you. He punctures your hips at a faster pace, like giving your pussy CPR, ordering your clit to administer a shock, blowing the kiss of life for the both of you. “In, out, in, out, in, out,” he guides, “You can do it.”

Jeno flips you on your back, an oof resounding the room, yelps and giggles following. He gives you a second to gather your composure, regulate your breathing, then pistons his cock repeatedly in your pussy. His tip catches on a particularly hard clench, and your walls refuse to let him go, trapping him in a spot that abuses your G-spot. He pushes the entire length inside you, practically fucking your cervix again, driving your back arched. You writher along the mattress, hair splaying among the sheets. His fists outline your obliques, thumbs erroneously pointed outward, trying to support your back. He accidentally slips on a particularly hard thrust, but before he can save himself, he protects your skull from hitting the headrest or your arm from getting crushed by his chest. Phew. Maybe if he were weaker, he would hold you on the bed, thrusting in a way that lets the both of you fall into the pillows, or maybe if he were stronger – mentally and physically – he would be able to stay up, not tempted or dizzy at the sight of your slightly parted mouth. Jeno readjusts his hands – one pushing your waist into the comforter, for his own support, and the other creeping toward your neck. You lift your chin up, giving him consent, and it takes him a second to move forward; he didn’t think he would get this far, that you would completely let him manhandle you. But, he guesses, he doesn’t know everything about you, and he is so excited to discover more. He pads his fingers on either side of your esophagus, squeezing just enough to make breathing a little harder for you, make it harder for you to follow the breathing pattern he ingrained in your cunt.

“Fuck, baby, breathe just like that.” Jeno peeks an eye wider, glancing at the blanket tosses away. Cautiously, he drifts his gaze to your stomach, and his cock twitches. You moan loader, almost confirming him thoughts – is he really that deep? Your pussy clenches. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” Jeno kisses you. “Cum with me,” he moans your name.

You used to make fun of him for being such a romantic, always cooing when he’d swoon over Knox and Chris, until he decided that he didn’t like their romance anymore. It’s too possessive. Although, he understands the sentiment, because the way you look at him, now, face contorting over your second building orgasm, incomprehensible whines spilling into the air. He should have done this sooner, should have kissed you sooner, and he would have, if he had known it would lead to this, because he can do it; he can bury the depth of his feelings while you sort yours out. If he can have you this close, like this, he would do anything.

Jeno draws his hips back, your name snagging on his moan. He feels your fingers dig in harsher as your legs tense up, tension building in your stomach. His knees chafe against the sheets, rocking an imprint into the mattress that keeps your legs open. Jeno slows his thrusts, instead hammering his entire cock harder. He tries not to cum prematurely, wanting to see your second orgasm of the morning overstimulate, but as he abrades your clit, holding your thighs wide, he feels himself shoot a thick rope of cum deep in your pussy, and it’s not long until he spills everything else, fucking you through his own orgasm, fucking his cum into you, your hole greedily drinking it all. You follow a few hits later, shaking your ass to help yourself along, then Jeno collapses, sweaty hot body enveloping your matching one. He presses sloppy, wide, open-mouthed kisses on your clavicle, steadily trailing up your neck, your cheek, and pecking you on the lips.

“Better than your dream?” you giggle, returning a kiss.

“Way better.”

Getting out of bed takes forever. The first time you tried to leave, you sat on the edge, stretching your arms upward. You bent over, standing on the ground, reaching for your toes, shaking off the jelly sensation, but Jeno, equally awake, rejuvenated from the twenty-minute rest since his cock was in you, leaned over the edge as well and made out with your pussy, licking all the way to your rim and back. Rather than shoving his head away, you pushed your hips back, for more, and eventually returned to bed, kicking up your legs and giggling your way into another blow job. The second time you tied to leve, you had to cross over Jeno’s body to get to the aisle between your beds, since your bed was pushed against the wall). You slithered a leg over his waist, balancing your palms on his shoulders, his cock twitching on your ass. He grabbed you by the waist, holding you there. You raised your eyebrows, pretending to be innocent (even though you really did want to get out of bed) as his cock hardened.

And now, the third time, your legs shake on your way off the mattress, having experienced way too many orgasms in less than thirty-minutes.

“Come back to bed,” Jeno whines, patting the empty warm spot you previously occupied.

“No,” you laugh, holding your arms out for balance before you fall again. You slap his grabby little hand away from your ass, much to his dismay, and pick up one of the new shirts you bought him yesterday that slipped out of the bag after Jeno kicked over a blanket. “I’m hungry,” you pout, facing him and buttoning up the top few buttons. “I need something to eat.”

“You have something I want to eat.”

“Real food, dork.” You walk over to your luggage, hunching over, ass on display but too far away from him. He groans, and you can hear him flop back onto the bed. You slip on a pair of panties, and his groan gets louder, making a smile instinctively spread on your face. “Come onnnn,” you complain, crawling onto the bed with a blouse and bra in hand, inching into his face, “Let’s grab something at that bistro. We won’t have a lot of time tomorrow at the wedding, and it’s already 5.”

Jeno sits straight, back against the headrest, his arms behind his head, showing off his thick muscles and tiny waist. He looks you up and down, a frown settling into his lip as he releases his arms with another groan. “Are we doing this backwards?”

“Doing what?” you ask, focused on exchanging his top for yours, another long-sleeve but black this time. You creep onto his lap, legs folded over the edge. He instantly goes to stabilize your waist, and you replace your arms around his neck, giving him a chaste (albeit sensual) kiss on the cheek, the corner of his mouth. “I just want to get dinner.” You put a hand on his arm, doing your best to give him a set of puppy dog eyes that you hope he cannot refuse. “Please?”

Jeno throws his head back. “Okay, let me put on some pants.”

The wait time at the bistro exceeded the amount of time it took to get ready and Uber over there, so you decided to look for something else. It seemed as though the universe wanted to punish your feet, everything else either closed by noon or surpassing an hour wait. You know that Jeno hates waiting more than 45-minutes. If he even knows that the restaurant is trendy or high-end, he won’t leave the apartment.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble and stop in the middle of the sidewalk, an empty sidewalk around the corner from yet another restaurant. Jeno slows down ahead of you, a hand coming out of his blazer to rub the frown lines in his jaw. “I didn’t think everything would take this long.”

“Hey,” Jeno calls, stepping into your personal bubble, preventing you from looking away by cradling your cheeks, “Hey. It’s okay. We’ll find something.”

“No, it’s not okay,” you shake your head, tearily looking into his eyes. The night sky almost obscures them, but Jeno led you close to a building with motion sensor, external lights. “It’s ridiculous, honestly, and you keep comforting me, but I’m starting to feel like a bur –”

You are cut off by your own gasp when Jeno kisses you, effectively shutting you up, and you melt into his arms. He simply puckers his lips, kissing you as long as he inhales before breathing out, just enough to regulate your heartbeat. The whole world slows down around you, every sound muted except the gentle smacking of his lips. One of your feet pops, kicks up, and you lean into his touch, fully assuaged.

Jeno pulls away first, leading you over to an open hotteok stand without a line. He orders two for each of you and a large soda to share, paying quickly. The vendor compliments the two of you as a couple, but when you go to correct him, Jeno interrupts you again, a hand on your lower back, thanking the guy, and walks you down the street. Once you get to a bridge, streetlamps connected by strung lantern lights, he relaxes against the railing, using the warm pancake to heat up his hands. You look him over again, then glance at your attires; it seems weird – you both wearing nice date clothes but eating ₩10,000 snacks, sharing a soda instead of wine.

“What?”

“I just …” You turn the wrapper around in your hands, gaze falling to the chewy dough. “How are you so nonchalant about everything?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are w-we going to pretend that the stuff in the hotel room didn’t happen? Like I didn’t confess that I like you, more than platonically?”

Jeno sighs, casting his gaze to the floor. But, like, why? You are the one vulnerable right now. In the last 24-hours, you confessed, to liking him more than friends. You only ever came close three other times; three times in 12 years: at the beginning of high school, motivated by your friends to take control; at the end of high school, before graduation, when you thought that he would go to KAIST instead of Yonsei with you; in the middle of college, during volunteer work at a soup kitchen. And each time, you chickened out. You thought that maybe, after you entered the workforce, like a real adult, you would face the music, face these constantly lingering feelings, and maybe, this is it; this is the music, but something about him, about this, regresses you back to that teenage girl feeling: shy and insecure.

“I –” Jeno inhales, crumpling the hotteok wrapper into his pocket, then waddling over to you. “I don’t think you know what you’re saying.”

You frown. He is not listening to you. Why else would you repeat the friendship-shattering phrase? You thought that this was it, that you could live with being his weekend mistake, but that involved getting a solid response from him, something tangible to let you know how he feels.

“I just … You don’t …” You lick your lips, gradually dropping your gaze to the floor, unable to face him with all this uncertainty. “I,” you emphasize, pointing your middle phalanges above your heart, “don’t know what you’re saying. Jen, I want some cl –”

For the second time tonight, he cuts you off with a simple kiss, long and chaste, holding you by the neck, as if the action exempts him from explaining himself. And maybe you are easy to sway, because you let him kiss you in the middle of a bridge overlooking the Busan city streets, convincing yourself that having him physically close is the same as having him emotionally close.

Jeno hopes that he won’t be like Jaehyun on his wedding day – absolutely insane. Well, he hopes that he won’t be like this on his wedding day, with you, oscillating between awkward silence and carrying out his childhood, assuming that he marries you. Granted, the wedding cake did melt, and another groomsman, the best man, Yuta, is running late (delayed flight from Japan), and Jaehyun did rip his tie, hence why Jeno, now, runs around the Park Hyatt Hotel, searching for any front desk attendant to point him toward a sewing kit at the very least. He should have brought his back up tie, a skinny black tie that he definitely does not know how to turn into a cravat, and he cannot ask you, not after last night when he evaded your question by sleeping with you.

Left. Right. Left again. Jeno looks around the empty, second-floor hallway, above the equally empty front desk, adjacent to the imperial staircase. Promptly, he shuts the door, inhaling and exhaling under the weird single lightbulb at the center of the ceiling, eyes shut, trying to imagine his happy place.

“Jeno?”

He sighs, shoulders dropping, face finally relaxing without the groom-zilla pacing and spiraling without “his soul mate” to calm him down, but Jeno cannot refute very much. Even in his dreams, you exist. And maybe he talks too little, or you talk too much; maybe he doesn’t say enough, or maybe you don’t say the proper words, but he could live in the in-between, in the that moment after you say something and right before he doesn’t. So, he sinks into your enveloping voice, engrossed by just the sound of his voice, no pressure behind it – pressure to answer your ‘I like you’ confession with his thousand-word ‘I love you’ confession; pressure to have the ‘what are we’ conversation; pressure to face your inevitable rejection that, although you feel something more than friendship for him, you don’t feel the same way. Except, Jeno doesn’t just feel the warmth from your words.

Your fingers slowly touch his tall shoulder, pads of your fingers dipping in harder to grab his attention. And he screams.

And you copy him.

It takes a moment for him to turn around, a hand over his heart, patting down his lapels. But when he does, when he finally looks at you, as if he were the groom this wedding, waiting for you, the bride, to surprise him at the end of the aisle, Jeno’s breath stops. He cannot discern whether it’s due to the shock value of being in close proximity to you again, in an intimate setting almost rivaling 7 minutes in heaven (though he can say that he’s had more than 7 minutes in heaven with you, outside a closet); or it’s because you look absolutely stunning, somehow making the lime green garden wedding theme work for you – Jaehyun practically shoved a floor-length dress in your arms the moment you both arrived, absolutely exhausted, half-filled coffees pressed against your foreheads, above your sunglasses blocking the sunlight, as if you two were hungover (you weren’t; neither of you have drank more than water this weekend so far), before he directed you to Mingyu’s “side of the hotel”, even though you are his cousin, and took Jeno to his side. And, when you initially asked him to be your wedding date, Jeno didn’t expect to stand with the wedding party, thought he would just have to sit in the audience, watching you stand at the altar in front of the wrong man (granted, your cousin and his groom), but Jaehyun gave him a matching green tie and the second groomsman spot.

“Ha-ha-hi. What, um, what are you doing in here?”

You, staring at the floor, feet squirming clickty clack in your heels, hold up a tiny sewing kit. “Stealing some supplies for Mingyu. He brough an extra cravat and wants me to sew in tie, as a precaution, in case something happens to the current one.”

Jeno lets out a small laugh, and you slowly look up at him.

“What?” you frown.

“Nothing,” he smiles at you. “Just … they’re really meant for each other. Jaehyun ripped his tie, and he sent me looking for a sewing kit to fix it.”

You furrow your eyebrows and tilt your head to the side. And Jeno coughs weakly into his hand, trying not to think about the way you kissed him, last night, head tilted again, eyes half-lidded, lips parted slightly. “What about Yuta?”

“Delayed.” Jeno jingles his watch into frame. “He should be arriving at Incheon in the next few minutes, but he won’t be here until, like, 20 minutes be-before the wedding,” Jeno trails off slowly at the end. The ceremony, the intimate short portion of the early afternoon, starts in two hours. Except, right now, the closet seems more intimate – perhaps 50 people will be accommodated later, the ballroom, and if he translates that into this space, about a tenth would be in attendance. And they probably would not like to witness him undress you with his eyes.

“Mmhmm,” you hum, stumbling your fingers onto his lapels. You feel the material once, under your thumb, then smooth out imaginary wrinkles. He has to wonder what you see that he doesn’t, but he says nothing about it, not wanting you to leave him. “Luckily, Jaehyun has you then, huh?” You press your palm into his jacket, just the one time, above his rapidly beating heart, then start dropping your hand.

But he catches you.

“I’m lucky,” he says, the words falling from the tip of his tongue, like breaking the dam, letting all the pent-up and unresolved feelings flood, “to have you.” Jeno subconsciously tugs you forward, by your hand, until you stand just a hair away, your dress breathing like a Lee Byung-Ho sculpture for SeMA’s Aging World installation a few years ago (he took you and spent the whole time scribbling your name next to the notes that he had to decipher later for his extra credit essay). He flickers his eyes across your face, waiting before he gets an approval. You stay still for the longest second in history, and he mirrors it, mirrors you. When you appear to move away, he also copies that. “Sorry. Sorry. I know we’re in a kind of uncomfortable spot, and I probably shouldn’t’ve –“

“Jeno?”

“… Yeah?”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Please.”

You fist his jacket, ruining the lapels more obvious for him to see, making him stagger forward. He braces a hand on the bookcase storage behind you, pulling your lower back toward his pelvis to help you evade ramming your spine into the shelves, but he still falls, face first into yours, one strong arm keeping you close, the other hovering above your cheek, too scared that he might crush you with the impossible weight of his crush, his feelings. You try to comfort him – as you always do, like a rock – fluffing his hair. Then, your foot slips, stiletto heel snagging on a loose roll of toilet paper. And he catches you, of course, always, holding your waist so tightly that you might crack. You echo him, this time, grabbing, groping, gripping every surface that you possibly can. To stop himself from toppling you, he bunches your silk dress at your hip and shoves his strong leg between your thighs. He drags you up his knee once, twice, thrice, and you moan.

“Jeno,” you barely manage to breathe, after one kiss, lips tight. You go lax in his arms, fawning over his arm like a damsel in distress – head thrown back, hair starting to tangle at the roots, leg hooking onto his waist. He moves down to your neck, your collarbone, your chest; he slides down the spaghetti strap for easier access, peppering wet kisses onto your skin. “Oh, my God,” you moan, arms tightening around his neck, drawing him impossibly close and thrusting your half-exposed tits in his face. “Don’t stop, don’t stop.”

Jeno kisses you harder, his tongue barely poking out, bottom lip dragging up. His inhales feel – and sound – heavy, trying to inhale everything about this moment.

“I want you,” he mumbles, nose brushing your cheek. He stops kissing you, open mouth panting into your ear. “But not like this. Not right here.”

“Jen,” you whine, sliding your hand under his jacket, clutching the back of his dress-shirt slightly untucked. “Please. I want you.”

“I – “ he gasps. “I –“

Then your phone rings.

I want you so bad, but not like this. I want to make love with you.

“He-hello?” you answer. You press your forehead to Jeno’s, and he takes the opportunity to analyze your face, the face he has memorized in his daydreams. Jeno twirls a loose, long strand of your hair, tucking it behind your ear. “Yeah, I f-ff-found it.” He presses a singular kiss under your jaw, tongue hunting for a prominent vein. And when he finds it, he pushes, harder, sucking just light enough not to create an ostentatious mark. “Mmm,” you nearly moan wantonly, legs giving out, “I-I’ll br-bring it by right now. O-okay, yeah, bye.” You quickly hang up the phone, dropping it to the floor, and wrap your arms around Jeno’s neck, returning one kiss, the final kiss, long and chaste, everything spilling out. “I have to go,” you whisper, sliding down his thigh.

“Yeah,” he mumbles back, “Me too.”

During the wedding, you did this a lot.

Thankfully no one noticed, or you hoped that no one noticed – you and Jeno staring at each other, across the altar; you behind Jeonghan, Mingyu’s best man; him behind Yuta, Jaehyun’s best man. You wanted to pay attention to the grooms, and their lovely ceremony, but seeing Jeno, just a few people away, had you quixotically imagining him at the forefront of the room, surrounded by your own friends and family. Who would be his best man: Renjun, Jaemin, Haechan? Would you get married in his hometown, or maybe abroad? What would you wear – Leehwa, Vera Wang, custom Prada?

Everything faded in front of you, when he met your gaze, staring you down over Yuta’s shoulder, closest to the officiant. You thought that the venue’s organization had it out for you, putting you on a pedestal below Jaehyun, but as Jeno returned your acknowledgement, you realized that the venue was, really, protecting your feelings, because the moment you locked eyes, the entire weekend flashed through your memory – almost kisses, actual kisses, accidental touches. You had to suppress all those feelings, make sure none of it was written on your face, like they meant nothing, like you don’t know what his current suit looks like crumpled and on the floor of your hotel room, like he belongs closer to you. The cheers following Jaehyun and Mingyu’s ‘I do’s were the only thing to bring you out of your own head, to draw the details of reality again, as if you willed time itself to move into the reception so that you could have Jeno to yourself again, restoring the intimacy of this affair to the grooms.

Unfortunately, it took a bit longer to even breathe in Jeno’s direction.

Both the Jung and Kim families shuffled everyone down to the reception ballroom, where even more friends and family and colleagues waited. You had to go back upstairs, without Jeno, to change into your party dress – the silk purple one, a shorter material that matches the tie you bought him. And then, the tables separated you as well, sending Jeno to mingle with other singles and you with your distant cousins, through the first course as both grooms, together, made their rounds, greeting every guest and expressing their gratitude in low bows for coming to celebrate their union. You finally found an escape during the main dish, which forced everyone to pull food from a buffet table rather than be served the same appetizer.

“Hey,” you bump elbows in line with Jeno, stealing his attention from the galbi-jjim, a small smile fighting your cheeks. “I – I can’t believe we got separated there. Do you think I can sneak you back to my table?”

Jeno chuckles and places a rib on your plate, using the obnoxiously large tongs to fix a batonnet carrot atop the meat. “I hope so,” he answers honestly, nose crinkling as a sign of it. “You’d think that they would put us together, since I’m supposed to be your plus one.”

“But I guess not,” you finish for him. You look over your shoulder at your table – nearly empty, like the preceding pew taking communion, then whisper, like making a tryst between spies, “Meet me at my table when you’re done. You can take my aunt’s chair; she’s dreadfully boring.”

You finish plating the traditional food that Jaehyun picked out for the occasion (according to Mingyu) and return to your table (Table No. 3) ahead of Jeno, who stopped to wait for a restock of japchae right before the dessert platters. He is easy to please – and they do say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach – because after he plates his noodles, he looks over his shoulders and sneaks a bite, eyes prettily fluttering closed, lips puckered around the tips of his manicured nails, licking his fingers clean. You try not to laugh, biting it behind an inevitable smile. Jeno finds you, easily, as he always does, tilting his head in confusion, but you wave him off, gesturing for him to finally join you, make you feel at little less alone among the extended family branches.

“Here, take some of the japchae,” he says, already unveiling a nearby fork from the dark green napkin cloth and piling it next to your rice. “It tastes –” He kisses his fingers. “- chef’s kiss, amazing.”

“You two make a lovely couple,” your aunt interrupts – not the dreadfully boring one; a different aunt, a younger aunt, who, just two years ago, claimed that she wouldn’t be like the rest of the peanut gallery, gossiping and leaping to conclusions about everyone younger’s love lives. You and Jeno sink into your respective chairs, deliberately avoiding touching each other. She leans in, over your arm, almost daring Jeno with her excited Princess doe eyes. “Can we expect another wedding soon?” He coughs. And you drop your metal chopsticks. And your aunt leans back, shrugging as if she hadn’t dropped a bomb. “It shouldn’t be a surprise. I’m probably not the only one who is expecting it. You graduated college – what – 10? 13? months ago. Right now would be perfect for you to get married, while you’re still young.” She briefly points a spoon at Jaehyun and Mingyu, before chopping up her almon bowl. “They got married young, and now they’re going to honeymoon across Europe. I’m just saying –“ She shoves a bite of food in her mouth. “It’s better to get married young – you grow together; finances are easier to manage; your health is in good shape, etc. etc.”

Your other aunt, her wife, finally joins, too, and smacks her arm. “Are you bothering another couple about getting married?” She turns to you with sympathetic eyes. “Sorry, after we got married, four years ago,” she emphasizes more to her wife than you or Jeno, eyes slightly narrowed (although playfully) on the last syllable, “she has been obsessed with weddings.”

“Happens when you marry a wedding planner.” They kiss.

You turn away, shyly looking at Jeno, mouthing an apology.

Surprisingly, he leans into your ear, whispering. His initial breath, before he even says anything, sends shivers down your spine, and he grabs your arm, rubbing your naked forearm for warmth. Oh. He mistook it. “Just play along,” he instructs. You can feel a hair move from its place. “It’s easier to say that you don’t know when we’ll get married than to explain why we’re, um, you are not dating.”

“W-we don’t actually know when we’ll get married,” you answer, gradually building your voice to conversation decibel.

“See! I told you they were a couple! There is no way that they wouldn’t be. Look at them!”

You cautiously glance at Jeno, stopping at his matching purple tie (he must’ve changed when you changed; and lucky him, a simple tie is easier than an entire dress), because you do not want to be so obvious about your lie. The train conductor, the Uber driver, the hotelier … they all thought the same, but since then, the start of your trip, you discovered that he does want you to touch him, in all the ways that carry meaning (and then some). You just do not know to what extent. He never said anything, never explained anything, not that you are entitled to his feelings. And you tried to reason it all – maybe you say too much, not really letting him, or maybe he says too little, constantly shocked to silence by all the secrets you spill.

You open your mouth at the round table, but another aunt of yours comes by and pinches Jeno’s cheek, saying something about how handsome he is, the statement echoing far off in your ears. And thank God, honestly; you did not quite know what to respond, merely hoping that, if you simply opened your mouth, your Broca’s area would follow. It didn’t.

“Yes, yes, but as you mentioned, my lovely date does not have a drink, so we best fix that,” you hear Jeno express. You peek to your side, then up, seeing him having stood at some point in his conversation. He throws you a look, eyebrows raised, eyes wide, smile nearly rectangular, and nods toward the open bar. Oh! You stand up, too, albeit clumsily, knocking your thigh into the mahogany, the silverware and ceramics jostling; you give your aunts a hasty bow and apology before taking Jeno’s arm. “See,” he says to your other aunt, “We must be going. There is a long Island iced tea out there with my name on it.” They laugh together, then you let Jeno drag you away to the open bar, away from prying aunties.

“Long Island iced tea?” You quirk a single eyebrow. He refused to drink those ever since the 2020 trip to Germany when you, Jaemin, and Renjun got so fucked up on Long Island iced teas, consuming more and more, claiming that it just wasn’t hitting, until it did, that the four of you missed your nonrefundable trip back to Incheon.

Jeno rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, I, uh, couldn’t think of a different drink.”

You flutter your eyes to the drinks menu, reading through the specialties until you find the Long Island iced tea … right above the Sweet Pink Punch, a fruity pink margarita that is definitely right up his alley, had he had a few drinks in his system already. You raise your eyebrow even further up.

“Okay! I wanted the pink drink,” he pouts. “Is that what you want me to say?” The bartender immediately pops one up on the counter for him, pointedly fluffing the pink little petals over the equally pink salted rim. Jeno groans. “So not what I wanted.”

“Here,” you laugh, flagging down the same bartender. “I’ll take a six blueberry kamikaze shots and a whiskey smash.” It is Jeno’s turn raise an eyebrow at you, and you laugh harder, lightly smacking him on the stomach. “Don’t look at me like that. We’re just gonna take a couple shots to take the edge off this whole party, –” A bit of liquid luck, if you were being completely transparent. “– then, we’ll make a few rounds and leave early. The key is – thank you –“ You pass him half the shots and put your drinks close together, making it ambiguous which belongs to whom. “– The key is to make a strong impression, and since we were at the altar today, I think we’ve got a free pass, but, just to be safe, –” You down a shot. “– we’ll take a few more photos, schmooze Mingyu’s cousins, note a talking point for later, then –“ You click your tongue. “– we’ll bounce.” You down another shot. Just one little glass remains, filled on your side of the bar, while your date has yet to even touch the table, so you look up at him. Jeno has an arm folded under his chest, opposite fingers dragging his bottom lip down, intermittently padding inside his mouth. And you swallow, throat suddenly dry with only liquid courage to drink. “Is … Is that okay?”

“Huh?” He drops his hand, and your eye follows, mouth drawing a continuous blank. “Oh, yeah,” he answers. “But, um, we don’t have to leave right away. It’s your cousin’s wedding; it might be fun to hang around with everyone for a bit.”

Jeno doesn’t know why he said that – We don’t have to leave right away, and it might be fun to hang around for a bit. Those few rounds you talked about (not the shots ☹) turned into hours, even more after you offered to stay while everyone else left, to help clean the reception hall. Jeno stood up, also, to start piling dishes into bus tubs, but you, and the others helping, only gave him easy-to-complete tasks or shooing him away. He eventually just sat down, sporadically drinking a bottle of soju, watching you laugh with your aunt and Mingyu, now your cousin-in-law, over something he couldn’t hear from so far away.

And when Jaehyun approaches, Jeno misses him, too caught up in the way your eyes almost physically light up at Mingyu’s umpteenth gawky faux pas of the night.

“How long?”

Jeno jumps, straightens his back. He relaxes after seeing Jaehyun, who looks far calmer than a couple hours ago. Maybe marriage suits him, brings out the vulnerability that no one really sees unless they get a few drinks in him. Jeno wonders if marriage would change him. Would he be more conscientious? Introverted (if that were even possible)? Would he have the same level of self-control? Or would his sex life get worse? And what if he didn’t marry you? He wants everything that marriage entails, even the compromises he might not be able to think about right now, but he isn’t sure that he would want it if it wasn’t with you.

“I …”

“How long have you been in love?” Jaehyun repeats, a knowing look quirked into his smile.

Jeno inhales, once, twice. He opens his mouth. Then, he puts down his bottle. “Forever,” he answers quietly, “maybe.” He winces. That sounds wrong, so he corrects himself, “Probably. Your cousin …” he starts, not saying your name, because if he does, he might accidentally confess something that he wants only you to hear.

Jaehyun chuckles, possibly more intoxicated than Jeno. It feels like that time in high school (Jeno cringes at how often he’s thought about his teenage years, like someone stuck in the past, but he cannot help that he has spent half his life with you) – that time in high school, near the end, when you invited him to his first college party, Jaehyun’s college party. So many things happened, so many firsts happened: his first beer, his first time losing his wallet (it was in the garage refrigerator), his first hickey; he emerged from a random bedroom, tugging up the collar of his shirt, and accidentally bumped into Jaehyun who was coming out of the bathroom from a different – but similar – experience.

“Dramatic,” Jaehyun comments. And Jeno whips his head to look at the groom, but he finds him looking at Mingyu. Jeno turns, too, but his eyes find you instead, instantly forgetting about the wedding party, until Jaehyun starts talking again. “Though, understandable.” Jaehyun spins his chair to Jeno, crouching a little closer, like he is about to reveal a secret. “You know, I almost asked you to give a wedding speech too.”

“Me?” Jeno points to himself. Jaehyun nods, re-affirming. “Why?”

Jaehyun shrugs, leaning back. He takes Jeno’s soju. “Because you give good speeches.” He tilts his bottle to Mingyu and you dancing and singing (Mingyu off-beat; you off-key). “My husband –” He smiles (that annoying and sickening lovey-dovey smile … that Jeno can’t help but want too). “– thought it might make you confess.”

“What?!”

Jaehyun shrugs again. Then, a beat passes, and Jeno opens his mouth, but Jaehyun gets up to join you and Mingyu; you pulling him up by an imaginary lasso. He hands back the soju, shimmying toward his husband. Another jealous pang bubbles in Jeno’s chest, and, yeah, he may not be the best person to let give a speech, or he might be the best. Sure, he wants that – to be called someone’s (your) husband and dance the night away with them (you); and yeah, he thinks about what it means to be in love, or what love itself means, and he comes to the same conclusion, every time. He comes to the same conclusion as you gesture for him to join the mini-after party, starting up an old SHINEE song on your iPhone that everyone knows.

More muzak fills the silence, albeit awkwardly now, through the first floor of the hotel. Jeno holds the sensor open, allowing you to enter first and push the Floor F button. He takes a place next to you, leaning on the cold wall, flushed face finally starting to mellow. You stare at the red numbers increasing on the monitor above the door, adjusting the hem of your purple cocktail dress lower than his tuxedo jacket hanging off your shoulders, rubbing your thighs together at your knees. The reception lasted longer than you anticipated; weddings, especially those so deep in Busan, tend not to exceed two hours, but you stayed passed 7 PM, since 11 AM, helping around where you could. And maybe it started out as a way to avoid Jeno, after the previous night, then all the discomfort and embarrassment faded, once you got a kiss and liquid courage. It seems to have faded by now though.

“Beautiful, um, beautiful ceremony,” Jeno mumbles, scratching the back of his neck and biting back a smile.

"Yeah,” you agree, breaking into a nervous smile. You fumble with the silver cufflinks, the memory of the last time you were confined to a small space with him – the closet at the Park Hyatt Hotel – at the forefront of your brain, and you wonder if his breath would be warm, or warmer, on your neck now. A glimpse of Jeno crawls into the corner of your eye, so you look him up and down. He doesn’t appear tired, rather lost in thought, like you, lips sucked in as if preventing another secret from falling out (or maybe he has to throw up). It becomes harder to ignore the weekend tension, the unsaid confessions, the sex. “Jeno, I lo –”

“So –”

Silence pulses, and the elevator goes up a floor.

You both close your mouths again. Perhaps you should have taken the stairs; the huffing and puffing would help you break the quietude. Beautiful ceremony was the first thing he said to you since getting into the Uber from the reception hall. And before that, he only made small talk, interrupting you if he even sensed a deeper conversation. It was frustrating, but you also understood. You kept bringing it up at inopportune times. Either the next task (eg, the wedding, the not-your wedding) or the atmosphere (eg, too many people) prevented you from really talking it out.

“Oh, you go first.”

“No, you were talking first. You go.”

You inhale. “Jeno, I lo –”

Ding. You have arrived at Floor F.

There it is again.

Jeno shrugs his shoulders sheepishly, gesturing for you to leave ahead of him. “We can talk about this in our room.”

Our room. Funny enough, since you two moved into the new gender-neutral dorms, at the beginning of college, people assumed that you were roommates (oh, my God, they were roommates) and were quite shocked upon finding out that Jeno chose to stay with Jaemin and you with an upperclassman, Yoohyeon, who had the same major as you but was in her last year. And similarly, to this hotel, your room – our room – is in the middle of the Fth Floor. Yay, more awkward silence to tread through. :|

You fall into routine with Jeno, as you step foot in your hotel: he takes your his jacket from your shoulders, hanging it in the closet by the door, and you saunter towards the closest bed, eyes trained on the ground as if an officer asked you to for a walk and turn test. You kick your shoes off by the heels, nearly moaning when the straps release your feet, and rub the bottom before a blister appears. Jeno, equally shoeless, joins you, sits beside you, his thighs parted widely on the space you give him.

“Jeno, I lo –” you start. But he leans over, caressing your cheek, and kisses you, slow yet passionate. His thumb rubs long, comforting lines above your jaw, helping you to relax further and you accept, holding onto his arm for stability. You add another hand, behind your back, supporting yourself as he guides you down on the neatly pleated duvet. He almost tries to say something through the embrace, his tongue clicking a syllable or two above your teeth. “Are – are we doing this again?”

Jeno pecks your lips and rests his warm, exposed forehead against yours. “As much as you want to.” He kisses you again, falling alongside you on the open bed, turning you from the edge. “I,” he pants, eyes closed, chest rising. You brush away his hair, pushing back all the strands you can bunch, stealing the moment to selfishly admire him without the weight of ruining an already intimate affair with your affair. “I – I can’t do a onetime thing with you.”

“Me neither.”

Jeno opens his eyes, instantly analyzing your face. “What does that mean?”

“It –” You peck his lips again, rolling him under your body, straddling his waist. “– means that this feels good.” You grab him by the collar, a button falling undone. He immediately finds your waist, just like the train ride, hands belting through your short dress, dragging the silky material up your thighs. You can feel his shirt scratch into your skin as you both find the most ideal spot. He winds up further on the bed, arms mingling with the sheets, and you slide down his hips, slipping to his dick, teetering on your knees, preemptively riding him. “Do-do you like it?”

His body freezes, and you fear that you did something wrong, touched something wrong, said something wrong, but then, Jeno shimmies his hips, sliding down his trousers. You feel his cotton Calvin Kleins touch your own cotton panties; your pussy practically activated by the twitch of his cock. He taps high under your thigh, drumming hard enough to jiggle your ass, almost contemplatively.

“I … like it,” he decides to say, but his easy-to-read face frowns and he opens his mouth again, “I … I love it.” He bites his lip. “I love … I love you. So much.”

“You do?”

“Yeah.” Jeno gazes into your eyes, and you try your best to reciprocate, because you do reciprocate everything: the looks, the feelings, the love. Slowly, he sits up, rolling his spine toward you. When he gets in your face, millimeters away, he tucks your hair behind your ear again. You trap his hand there, clamping it between your cheek and shoulder, leaning into him. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same,” he whispers, but you both know that your relationship would not survive the depth of either one of your feelings, not after all these years.

“I love you, too, Lee Jeno,” you answer, kissing him before he can say anything else.

He slithers his fingers under the sides of your underwear, twisting them up, his face pliantly moving in your hands. You grind through your panties, and after a moment, you find his dick, grazing just the tip through your ass, all the way to your clit.

“Shit,” he moans. His hands readjust on your waist, gripping tighter, making you moan. “Are we doing this again?” You nod your head, holding him still and diving a bit lower. Your thighs adapt to the new curve in your back as you sloppily kiss his neck, tongue exploring his clavicle. “Then, sit on my face.”

Jeno helps your legs around his face, licking the wetness up your knees. His constant eye contact tells you to watch him, and you have to fight the urge to completely melt on his washboard abs. Jeno pulls the crotch of your panties to the side, a finger hooked around the black lacy material you once mentioned, that you looked forward to wearing after he ripped the other pair. You nearly lodge a complaint at the silence and the emptiness, but then, he moves. He flips you over, simultaneously tearing away your underwear, clawing your ass to ride his face; his chin lifting, abrading just under your clit. Your forehead falls to his groin, nails scratching into his bare legs – smooth and muscular. He starts peppering tiny kisses all over your vulva, tongue probing the further you soak his face. As a distraction, you unbutton his shirt, from the bottom up, fisting the hem, dragging up his torso. You walk backward, on your knees, punching holes into the mattress, exposing his abdomen. Experimentally, you lick a stripe through his well-defined abs. His knee kicks up. You do it again.

“Princess,” he whines, forehead resting on your inner thigh. “I won’t be able to control myself if you touch me like that.”

“I’m barely doing anything,” you mumble, crawling to his leaky cock again. Jeno, vindictively, adds a finger, and another, and another. He licks your pussy, swirling his tongue near your rim, then jumping back to your cunt, joining his three fingers. You fall forward, groaning, and take his cock, clothed, in your hand, drawing his tip along the lines of your lips, suckling the head.

“Fuck.” His head hits the mattress. It makes you feel attractive, sexy, to turn him on like this, and you love it.

“God, I love you,” you whisper.

“I love you,” Jeno returns. He almost nips your skin, lips barely covering his teeth in time. “So much,” he breathes, almost awed.

“Jeno, I’m gonna cum.”

“Wait!” He pulls his face off. “I want to see you.”

Romantic. And you guess it’s the season, that heightens, if not adds, to the sentiment. So, you contribute, trying to give him everything and more – that is what you have been doing all weekend with the train ride and the food and the hotel and the clothes, giving him your whole self.

You scramble off his chest, turning around, to face him. He flickers from your eyes to your hair and combs the staticky baby hairs back down. And you like to think that you’ve gotten to know him more, the last couple of days, think that you’ve gotten more accustomed to the little gestures, the tender indicators which show you something lasting. You lean down again, slowly, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. He rolls you under him, trapped by his strong biceps, humping his dick between your legs, not allowing you a single moment of refractor. With his lips sewn into yours, he extracts his cock, lubricating it with your vaginal spit, teasing your hole. You swivel your hips, trying to push him inside. And just you think he might taunt you further, your orgasm hanging by a thread, he presses forward, centimeter by centimeter.

“Fuck,” you both groan, heads thrown back. A beat pulses, letting you, and him adjust to the size, the tightness (even though you spent 24-hours practically attached to his pelvis, skin sticking in this same way).

“Okay,” you exhale, “Okay. Move, please.” But Jeno keeps his head glued on your shoulder, breath shaky, chopped by tiny whimpers. You groan his name, elongating it when your voice chokes on a sob, feeling his thick cock throb inside you, raw and bare. “Jeno, please, I wan – I need to cum.”

Without looking at you, Jeno pulls back his hips, thrusting shallowly, his tip flopping around your cervix, searching for your sweet spot. And he knows when he finds – you know that he knows he found it – because your face contorts, eyes twisting shut, body relying on his touch to see. At some point, he meets you in the middle, greedily rolling his torso on top of you, roughly dragging you through the bed sheets. Jeno kisses you again, the same tender passion rising but more fervent, like he needs to chase the moment, like he missed out on chasing you all these years. So, you slow down, gasping into his mouth, showing him that you are here, with him, for him, forever, if he wants. And you let out a strangled cry, repeating his name like a mantra, hooking your arms under his shoulders:

“Jeno, Jeno, Jeno, Jeno, Jeno.”

He starts fucking you faster, increasing his pace as his name disappears into a series of blurry sobs on your tongue; he smashes his lips on yours, slamming his hips hard – hard even for him, judging by his own low-pitched whines. Your dress chokes your waist, the straps having slid down your arms, off your wrists, and your boobs spring free, somewhat free, since he holds you so close. You pull him in, nails clawing his back, flexing your legs away to give him the freest access to your cunt. He finds some stability in your clit, pushing the pulsing nub into his thrusting cock.

“Tell me you’re going to cum.”

“I’m so close. Please, please, please.”

Jeno pinches your clit. Your back drives off the mattress, trailing his abs, grinding every inch of skin that you possibly can, both of your outfits doing little to obstruct the tension, only adding strenuous friction. His hand punches the mattress, to avoid losing balance, and gives him more leverage to move faster, if that were even possible. In, out, in, out, yank, pull, prod, in, out. You babble more nonsense, brain barely processing quick I love yous and his name, before an earthquake shatters your sympathetic nervous system, breaking down the walls that blocked your orgasm. Your body trembles, rolling upward, accidentally meeting his thrusts, and your pussy spasms, coaxing out weepy hiccups from Jeno. You push two fingers between your bodies, around the base of his cock, helping his orgasm. And you feel the first ribbon of cum shoot deep in your cervix, his shoulders shuddering, but he keeps going, jamming his cum far up your cunt.

You lay there, curling around his arm, taking his cum while he planks above you, watching your spasms lessen. Jeno moves first, removing your clothes and situating the two of you by the pillows. He pulls you into his chest, shimmying your dress off your legs and his shirt off his shoulders. You let yourself close your eyes, melting into his arms, into the weekend, into finally getting the love of your life. And maybe minutes, or an hour, passes, not that you’re counting, because you’ll have him as long as he will have you. And you think he feels the same, know he feels the same when he whispers a phrase that only people who want to be together for a long time say:

“So, when are we getting married?”

[classickook]

your love is sunlight | peter parker 

pairing: tasm!peter parker x fem!reader

summary: your loving boyfriend comforts you after a bad day.

warnings: hurt/comfort, fluff

word count: 0.9k

a/n: i just know he gives the best hugs :(

You huffed out a breath as you trudged your way up the stairs to the apartment you shared with your boyfriend, one shoulder weighed down by your work bag, filled to the brim with supplies and documents you needed in order to catch up on tasks for your internship. 

You were practically dragging yourself up the steps, hands grasping the railing and feet slipping out of your loafers with each step.

Today had been the worst day you could possibly imagine. College assignments kept piling up, your internship was taking up too much of your time, and your boss, who was supposedly the best in the industry, was just a grumpy middle-aged man with a horrible combover and a chip on his shoulder who took out all of his frustrations on you, to the point where you didn’t even think you wanted to continue in this line of work due to the horrible experience you’ve been having so far. It was like your whole word was crumbling down around you and you had no idea where your life was going or what you could do to fix things. 

One straw kept stacking up, one after another, until the proverbial camel’s back was way past just breaking: it was beaten down until nothing but bone fragments and loose skin were left in its wake—just an empty shell, completely sucked dry of life.

Upon reaching the entrance to your door, you jiggled your mess of keys into the lock until you heard a click, and stumbled inside. 

Peter was standing in the middle of your small kitchen, seemingly attempting to prepare some sort of dinner, maybe? Pots and pans covered nearly every inch of counter space, cabinet doors were swung wide open, and something smelled like it was burning.

He turned around to greet you, and the way his smile lit up his entire face held the similar appearance of a puppy seeing its owner after a long day by itself. You would have laughed if you didn’t feel so drained. 

Peter rushed toward you, relieving you of your bag and coat, quickly setting them aside so he could wrap his arms around you. You immediately melted into him, waves of his cologne and fresh air and the faint scent of burnt toast filled your nostrils. He felt like home. “Hey, pretty girl,” he said softly. 

After a few moments, he started to pull away, but you didn’t make any effort to move, hands locked together where they were wrapped around his waist.

“What’s wrong?” 

Silence.

“Hey, talk to me. What’s going on, baby?” He gently nudged you back to see that your eyes were watering and his heart dropped. 

“I just missed you, is all,” you said, not ready to tell him about your day just yet, swatting away some of your tears with the sleeve of your sweater. You could only imagine how awful you looked right now: red-rimmed eyes and tear tracks in your foundation probably weren’t the best look you’ve ever had. 

His expression fell. “Baby…”

Without warning, Peter picked you up and walked you down the hall and into your shared bedroom, setting you down on the bed and pressing a kiss to your forehead before moving over to his side of the dresser and pulling out a t-shirt and sweats for you to wear. He placed them on your lap. “Why don’t you change, and then we’ll lay in bed, yeah?” 

Nodding, you grabbed the clothes and made your way to the attached bathroom, peeking down and noticing that he chose your favorite shirt of his—of which you’d mentioned to him time and time again, constantly complimenting him on it each time he pulled it out. You smiled to yourself at the sweet gesture.

You quickly ran a makeup wipe over your tear-stained face and slipped out of your clothes while he unzipped his jeans and got under the covers. “We could talk,” he offered gently, “or not talk. I could put on a movie. Or you could sleep. Whatever you want.” 

Your heart melted at how sweet he was, always knowing what you needed and how to lift your spirits. You couldn’t have asked for a better boyfriend.

You pulled his t-shirt over your head and offered him a small smile as you re-entered the bedroom.

“There’s my girl,” he said, eyes drinking in the sight of you. “You look so pretty in my clothes.”

“Oh, your clothes are pretty, are they?” you teased. You crawled into bed beside him and he wrapped an arm around you, tugging you in close to his body, the heat radiating off his skin immediately warming you up more than any heated blanket ever could. 

Peter affectionately pinched your side. “Definitely not, but the girl wearing them is.”

You felt yourself blush, never growing tired of his sweet compliments. You burrowed deeper into his embrace, tucking a thigh between both of his. He slipped his hand beneath the back of your—his—shirt, fingertips tracing over the bumps of your spine.

Relief washed over you from head to toe, finally feeling relaxed, like your worries and burdens couldn’t affect you in here. You hadn’t felt this at peace all day.

Just when you were starting to drift off, a thought popped into your head.

“Peter?” you asked suddenly.

“Yes, pretty girl?”

“What about the mess in the kitchen?”

He chuckled. “I’ll clean it up in the morning.”