#shes known this guy for barely two weeks

[webism]

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎HOT ROD !

After getting hooked on your taste, pornstar!satoru invites you and your pornstar boyfriend to shoot a threesome in the countryside.

pornstar!suguru x pornstar!satoru x fem!reader | part one, two

cw; ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎she/her pronouns used for reader, unprotected sex, creampies, oral (m and f receiving), anal (m receiving), mmf threesome, voyeurism.

The sun has barely risen, the typical tangelo orange of a morning sky is yet to develop—instead, you watch a dull pink canvas the sky, turned more of a rose colour through the car's windshield. Suguru Geto, your lover and costar alike, keeps his hand on your thigh as he drives. Occasionally, he'll tap his fingers against your exposed flesh along to the beat of the old niche rock song blaring through the radio. You have the volume up too high—which isn't good for your ears, but is great for the soul—and the windows rolled all the way down. The wind is in your hair, which aids the setting heat of Summer in Japan. It's quite pleasant out here. You're filming at a location you can only reach through an open road that goes right past some very scenic hills, and you're having a lovely time just enjoying your lover's company. Nothing but the two of you. 

That being said—something sits at the forefront of Suguru's mind. You can tell his thoughts are preoccupied, having been with him so long gets you a sweet look into that pretty mind of his. So, when the strings of an electric guitar die out, you turn the radio down and shift in your seat to face him better. 

“Cold feet?” You ask. 

His hair is up and out of his face, save for a stand that falls over his eyes, though it’s pushed back by the wind regardless. He glances at you, smiles, and looks away.

“I don’t get cold feet," he says flatly, looking at you for half a second before his focus returns to the road. “I'm just interested to see if he'll fuck as good with me there, of if the poor guy will get performance anxiety."

Ah, jealousy it is. The flat kind, because your sweet-boned lover never gets openly jealous. You have to settle for half-bitten quips. You smile, "he didn't seem like the type to get performance anxiety."

Suguru hums in a noncommittal way, his lips pulling inwards. He squeezes the fat of your thigh and taps a finger against your skin.  Your skin heats under his touch, it always does. You might earn your living through the most sensual of touches, but none of them quite set you alight like Sugurus does.

Well, except for Satoru. You try to avoid closing your eyes, in fear of being met with the memory of his cock sinking into you rather than the darkness of your closed eyelids. You feel half-guilty, despite Suguru's obvious itch to see you laid out for Satoru Gojo of all people. You know him, you wouldn't be driving forty minutes through the countryside if Suguru wasn't at least a little bit obsessed with the fantasy.

Satoru Gojo, a known name in the porn industry, got to fuck you stupid only a week ago. He had asked you out for drinks after, and though you rejected him verbally, you’re starting to fear that your mind didn’t reject him in the same regard. You had come home that night to your sweet Suguru, and told him all about being hit on by your co-star, to which he laughed.

And oh the irony, that your Suguru was balls-deep inside of you that night when the two of you got an email from Satoru’s agent– an offer, an expensive one. One shoot, a week from then, a threesome between his new favourite love birds and, of course, him.

Suguru remembers Satoru like he was the season prior, like the winter that bled into you, the spring. They did a few films together, Satoru got a little too stuck in Sugurus mind and then, once their contracts were up, they never spoke again. 

The rising sun makes him squint against the road— he almost misses the turn off to the countryside estate you had been told to meet at. The place is nice, big, and you’re starting to wonder just how widely distributed this porno will be if the producer is shelling out so much money just for an estate to rent out for half a day. 

“With how much they’re paying us, I half expected the budget for location to allow for a crack den at most,” Suguru snorts as he pulls in through the large paved driveway. 

“No kidding,” you hum. With this paycheck, you’d just be greedy looking for work in the next few months. 

Suguru parks and undoes his seatbelt with a sideways glance in your direction. “We’re a bit early,” he notes. “But it never hurts to get a feel for the place, talk to our co-star for a minute or two.”

You smile. “Mhm, talk.”

“Ready to get fucked for cash?” Suguru snorts, and opens his door to get out of the car. You follow suit, rolling your eyes at his crude words when your feet hit the ground and you’re closing your door behind you. 

You walk around the car to meet your boyfriend, and he greets you with a pinch to your ass and a kiss to your temple. You’d recognise something poetic in the contrast of his actions if your mind wasn’t so preoccupied with thoughts of performing for him in only a few moments. 

Despite both being pornstars, you rarely take scenes together. Threesomes aren’t a frequent venture— this is something relatively untapped for the both of you. And though you’re sure it would never jeopardise your relationship at all, you can’t help but entertain the worries that creep in. Will Suguru really not mind sharing? 

You aren’t sure what’s worse— the thought of him getting overly jealous of Satoru and cutting the scene short, or the thought of Suguru not minding in the slightest as you get fucked stupid by another man. A little possession never goes unappreciated on your end. 

“Hey,” Suguru’s silken voice brings you back to the now. “You okay? We can turn around and speed off into the sunrise if you want to leave.”

You grin. “I’m good. Excited, even.”

Your boyfriend nods and leads the way to the estate's front door. It’s closed, which is a little odd considering the production crew will be coming in and out with equipment and the such. You furrow your eyebrows and realise your car is the only one here—maybe you’re earlier than you realised. 

“You checked the shoot time, right?” you ask. 

“Yes, love,” Suguru makes it to the front door and tries the handle only to find it locked. “Fuck, maybe I should have triple checked.”

He presses a thick finger to the doorbell button and glances to you as the sound of an overly upbeat chime echoes through the estate. Maybe it’s the wrong place, too lavish to be true. Maybe it’s the wrong date, even. Maybe—

The door swings open, and standing to greet you with a knowing grin is Satoru Gojo. 

His eyes meet yours first, and then drop to take in the rest of you. Something soft flashes over his face. Lust, perhaps, or appreciation, maybe both.  His arms cross over his chest, leaning his body weight on the doorframe as he flits his gaze to your boyfriend, and his eyes return.

“Long time no see, lovebirds. Just on time," he chirps, stepping aside to let you in. "Excuse the mess, I just moved in."

It takes a moment for your brain to register his words, and Suguru is right behind you in thought. "This is your place?" he asks, appraising the foyer as he walks in. 

“Mhm,” Gojo replies, and though you expect his lilt to be more cocky, he speaks smooth like silk. “The city is too… busy for me. Plus.. saves a dollar on renting out a house to film in, right?”

You can’t help the smile that pulls at your lips: from the looks of his home you doubt he’d blink an eye at paying rent for a night of filming. Still, you don’t know if he’s just trying to show off, or if he really wants his home to play backdrop for the shoot. But whatever the case, he definitely thinks it’s clever on his behalf to lead the both of you here. It worked, you give it to him, but damn.

You look around, taking in everything that catches your eye – the sleek furnishings, a wide kitchen to the left, and an elegant living room straight ahead. All of it feels clean and welcoming. You wonder, idly, what it's like for Gojo to live in a space like this all alone – if he is alone, that is. The question remains unanswered as Gojo leads the two of you down the hall until you reach another door and slip inside.

The bedroom you end up in is stunning; a double bed dominates the centre of the room with fluffy duvets thrown haphazardly over top, whilst the walls are painted a warm, calming shade of grey. The carpet is plush and dark brown in colour, the curtains hanging at either side of the grand windows allow for plenty of natural light to flood the room. There's a tripod set up with a very expensive looking camera pointed directly at the bed: Satoru points to it and grins at you and Suguru, "our camera crew."

You furrow your eyebrows, but Suguru speaks up before you can. "It's just us?" 

Satoru nods, crossing his corded arms and he flits his gaze between the two of you. "Yes. I did specify it was a private shoot, lovebirds."

Your boyfriend settles in closer beside you than before, you can feel the heat from his body as he crosses his own arms, a mirror of the white haired man in front of you. "I figured it was a private production shoot," he speaks cautiously. "The email I got was from an agent, not you directly."

Satoru looks unperturbed. "'Course," he says languidly. "She handles all my correspondence."

Gojo turns to the dresser and, from the top drawer, pulls out two white envelopes. Your eyes linger a little too long on his slender fingers as he hands them over to you, one each. As you peek into the envelope handed to you, you find an obscene amount of cash neatly sat inside. 

"As agreed, plus... a little extra for the commute," Gojo shrugs. "You can take it and go, if this isn't what you want. If it is, well..." He gestures to the bed. "I'm kinda dying here."

You glance down at his insinuation and find that he's beyond hard. His pants are tight and tented, making his arousal painfully evident. You have to force your gaze elsewhere – to Suguru, who is staring almost shamelessly at Gojo, his brows creased in the middle as he thinks.

The silence is deafening, you can feel the tension rising between the three of you, vibrating off the surface of your skin and permeating the air itself. Suguru seems to have made his mind up, because he turns to you with an awfully familiar look on his face: desire.

"Thoughts, darling?" he asks, and your stomach flips. 

There's no point in pretending that there aren't things wrong with how your mind still reels after Satoru's touch. This entire thing has been confusing and disorientating; you're confused about everything – your feelings, your career, your sexual desires – and now, in your current situation, you’re downright torn. And yet, despite that, despite all the questions swirling around in your mind, as soon as your eyes land on Satoru's again – you know you'd die without another taste of his pink glossed lips. That feeling, the desire, the forethought of how he'd pant and whine after you've fucked him senseless – you'll do anything to achieve it. 

This doesn’t feel like work anymore, not with the way these two men are looking at you. The camera isn’t even rolling yet, and yet you find yourself ready to fuck them both to the brink of oblivion.

So, without so much as a second of hesitation you pull away from your train of thought and turn to press your lips to Suguru's in a searing kiss. The action, so swift, causes Gojo's breath to hitch in his throat at the sight. Suguru kisses you back, of course, the hand that isn't holding his envelope quickly makes its way to your waistline and pulls you flush against him, leaving nothing but your clothes between the both of you. You wrap your arms loosely around his neck as Gojo watches the two of you intently, gaze burning into the meeting of your lips. You can feel him watching you, his spectatorship dizzying, and you bite Suguru's bottom lip in an attempt to stifle the moan bubbling up your throat.

“Jeez, didn’t know this was a cuckolding shoot,” Satoru sounds whiney, threadbare with lust. “Though I wouldn’t mind that… another time maybe.”

You place a hand on the planes of Suguru’s chest as you disconnect your lips and turn your head to the white-haired pervert with heart-shaped pupils. Your grin is sweet, sultry - "another time, huh?"

You pull apart from Suguru and move past Gojo, making a point not to glance in his direction, until you're crawling onto the bed and turning to rest with your elbows propping you up. Both Suguru and Satoru standing, your observers - admirers, is a sight for sore eyes. The camera sits between them, propped up and set on you. In spite of it, you feel oddly at home. The same sweet excitement builds within you that you normally feel when it’s just you and Suguru at home. You didn't know the air could weigh so intimately in front of a camera.

It takes a moment of staring at you, jaw slack, for Satoru to finally spring into thought. He steps towards the camera, makes sure everything is looking good, and then clears his throat as he presses record. He almost looks nervous, and if he weren't so cocky in his usual demeanour you'd think he's getting cold feet. But you remember the way his eyes glossed when he pushed into you, how that confidence of his melted into carnal need in just one thrust. You know what you do to him, and god does it seem amplified tenfold with Suguru here.

And your black-haired lover must know it too, because the second Satoru makes a move to speak, Suguru cuts him off with a step towards him and a burning kiss pressed to his lips. Satoru's sound of alarm at Suguru's lips on his is almost enough to send you dizzy, but the true aphrodisiac is the sight of your lover taking charge with him; lips locked onto one another, the lewd noises they make as Suguru cups Satoru's face with one hand and scratches into the back of his hair with the other. Satoru's moans become louder and more desperate, as Suguru's tongue explores the recesses of his mouth, sucking hungrily upon the flesh of his lower lip. When the two break apart they're both breathing heavily, panting as they catch their breath. An undoubted look of longing is etched into every last one of their handsome features.

You feel your stomach roil with anticipation as you watch them, realising the camera is only pointed at you, capturing your wanton expression. But then, it snaps, and suddenly your lovers are pulling apart to instead lay their gaze on you, resting back on Satoru's wildly comfortable bed sheets with a lust-driven smile pulling at your lips.

“You’re a fucking lucky man, Suguru,” Satoru coos, blue eyes raking over you in appreciation. You’re hardly undressed, and yet you feel naked under his gaze. “Don’t know how you can do porn when you’ve got such a pretty thing waiting for you at home. It’d ruin my performance.”

“I know,” Suguru says plainly, truly. "You've never been good at multitasking, have you Satoru?"

"Harsh words," Satoru pouts, giving his best imitation of an overly dramatic frown. "I can multitask just fine, do you need me to prove it?"

Without a word further, he plucks the camera from its tripod and points it at Suguru. "For example," he sing-songs, "I can fuck and film at the same time."

“Can’t do it dressed,” you point out, to which both men turn to find you already stripping yourself of your clothes. Satoru turns the camera onto you, finding it a sin to not capture you revealing yourself with such delicate fingers. You look into the lens, eyes sultry as you’re known for doing, and wonder just how many people are going to slip their hands under their waistbands at the sight of you. 

Once you’ve laid yourself bare, your naked skin feels static with the tension in the air, you reach your hands out and make grabby-hands at Satoru. “Pass the camera,” you hum. “It’s your turn.”

A glance between themselves, and then Satoru is leaning over the bed to slot the camera in your hands. It’s heavier than you’d thought it would be, but feels nice and cooling against your otherwise sweaty palm. Satoru’s fingers brush over yours as he hands it over, something electric stills the room for a moment, and then he pulls away with a cough.

He hadn’t realised that Suguru had fallen into place behind him, because when he steps backwards and his back hits your boyfriend's chest, Satoru gasps. You capture the pink blush that speckles at his cheeks, and the beautiful way in which Sugurus hands snake around his body to caress down his chest.

Suguru has always been gifted in the way of sparking intimacy. It’s why the porn he shoots is usually so artistic, he’s sensual. And Satoru, not for the first time, is falling victim to his seductive ways. The gentle traces of his fingers down Satoru’s chest is testament enough to just how narcotic Suguru’s touch is. When he reaches the hem of his shirt and starts lifting upwards, unwrapping his next meal, Satoru can’t help but lift his arms and help move the process along — he’s feeling beyond restless. 

Now exposed, Satoru’s chest and torso are now at the mercy of Suguru’s searing touch. Each trail of his fingers down the white-haired man’s chest, each tweak over his surprisingly sensitive nipples, each rough kiss against the column of his neck, they all elicit the most pornographic moans from Satoru Gojo’s throat. You study them both through the camera’s screen, and watch as Suguru presses his lips against Satoru’s ear.

He speaks in hushed tones, enough so that you know the camera isn’t going to pick up on his words. You can hear them though, only just, they're low and sensual and entirely full of sin. "You're lucky I'm letting you fuck my girlfriend for a second time," he purrs. "You know, she hasn’t stopped thinking about your last shoot. We watched it together the other night, I matched your rhythm, let her pretend it was you. She’s obsessed."

You're almost embarrassed by the confession, a burn sheens your skin, but the way Satoru's eyes darken impossibly further calms you. Suguru grins, catching your gaze from over Satoru's shoulder, and presses a kiss to his earlobe. "It brought me back, too," he says. "To when I got you to myself. You remember our films, hm? You're just like she is." 

Satoru nods, the tips of his ears turning redder. His breathing is shallow, ragged, needy; and in a split second he's turning around and returning his lips to Suguru's. Desperate hands lift at your boyfriend's own shirt, exposing his tattoo-laden skin underneath. His jeans soon follow, and then so do Satoru's pants.

For a moment it's just the two of them, all clothes bar their boxers discarded to the floor and hands exploring bare skin. The warmth of Satoru's fingers digging into his chest, his ribs, his hips, the hard planes of his body, their bodies pressed together as if to become one. Their lips connect again, hungrily, their teeth knocking together with every brush of tongues. Satoru takes Suguru's lower lip between his teeth and bites hard enough to elicit a choked groan from the back of Suguru's throat.

And when they part, it's obvious just how much heavier the air has gotten. Suguru turns your white-haired tryst and pushes him towards where you sit on the bed. "Move your ass before I fuck that too," he deadpans.

Satoru doesn't blush like you expected he would. Instead, he grins. "That would be a big change from last time, don't you think?" he sing-songs, eyebrows raised as he steps further towards the bed. "Or maybe you don't remember crying from how well I stretched you out, I sure do, all pretty and—"

This time Suguru does flush crimson, and you laugh out loud at this revelation. "I didn't know you bottomed for him," you shake the camera a little with your laughter, capturing the way Suguru glares at Satoru from beneath long eyelashes, "that's something I've got to see."

"Hah," Suguru climbs onto the bed and snatches the camera from you, settling on his knees as he points it down at your form. There, his fingers graze lightly against your bare skin, making you arch your back in anticipation. "Tough luck, pretty."

His black boxers are beyond tented, and he slips them off easily enough, allowing his cock to spring free, perfectly poised and ready for your hand. The sound of Suguru's moan as your fingers wrap around his length is paired with the shuffle of Satoru climbing onto the bed too. He hovers above you for a moment, watching you stroke Suguru through the camera, before taking it from him with a grin. 

Satoru returns the camera to its stand and checks its positioning before climbing back onto the bed and settling himself just behind you. You turn to smile at him, and then gasp as his hands tentatively find your shoulders. He peers over you, to the sight of Suguru’s drooling cock in your hand, and presses a kiss to the skin just under your ear.

“You know I’m fucking obsessed with you, right?” He purrs, glancing down to your boyfriend's cock before pressing another kiss to your shoulder. “Haven’t stopped thinking about you. I dreamt of breaking you and your boyfriend up until I found out it was Sugu, here. Wanted you all to myself, pretty thing, but I think I’m happy enough to share now, because god do I want to see your lips wrapped around his cock.”

“Mm,” you hum, turning your head to meet his gaze. “You haven’t even kissed me yet, and you’re making demands?”

Satoru smiles, his lips glossy and so perfect you could cry. “I want to taste him on you.”

His words light a fire in your core that licks through your body, ravenous. You can't help but oblige at his words, returning your gaze to sweet Suguru before dipping your head down and pressing a chaste kiss to the weeping tip of his cock. Suguru and Satoru both inhale sharply when you do so. You wet your lips with your tongue and then meet his cock again, drawing lazy circles across his tip before closing your lips slowly, reverently around the shaft of Suguru's cock.

Satoru's hand pushes down a little on your shoulder, and you're forced forward onto your lover's length. Your moan betrays you and sends narcotic vibrations down his shaft, making Suguru grunt and buck his hips forward a little. Satoru, who remains behind you, gently takes hold of your hips and manoeuvres you into more of a doggy-style position — your fingers splayed over Suguru's thighs to try and find purchase as Satoru leans over you. 

Gojo's chest presses against your back, skin-to-skin intimacy broken by the feverish kisses he presses to the back of your neck, down to your shoulder blades, your spine, His kisses become hotter, wetter, open-mouthed as he moves down to your waist, large hands playing with the flesh of your ass as he kisses a path down. You moan and shift against his grip, moving your hips in an effort to push yourself back against his boxer-clad erection, but Satoru only snaps you forward, and you choke a little as you're forced to take Suguru's cock even deeper down your throat.

"Fuck," Suguru hisses, pretty purple eyes meeting yours as you look up. Drool glosses his length, slick and hot and heavy against your tongue when he finally gives you a moment to breathe. 

Your mouth immediately goes back to work again once your breathing steadies, hollowing out your cheeks and dragging him down, deeper, faster, more desperately. The receipt of pleasure etched into Suguru's tight-wound face is enough to spur on your own needs, but you nearly choke when Satoru Gojo bites into the fat of your ass. Your body arches up and you squirm and whine, but Satoru is relentless, licking over the indentations left behind as Suguru snaps his hips into your open mouth over and over again.

You barely have room to move before Satoru is pushing your knees apart with a strong hand, the heel of his palm firm against your ass as he spreads you open. He takes a moment, heavy breaths fan against your exposed slick, and you’re suddenly all too aware of yourself. You’d protest, tell him not to stare if your mouth wasn’t full with your heavy-lidded lover's cock. You don’t even know why you’re embarrassed — you’re a pornstar, your job is to lie subject to the most intimate of ogling.

Your thoughts melt into the bedsheets, however, when Satoru groans and connects his lips to your pussy. Stupid off the taste of you alone, he whines against your slick heat, enamoured. His tongue flicks over you, circling your clit repeatedly and making your insides burn. You moan, and it comes out muffled and breathless around Suguru's dick.

"You taste so fucking good," Satoru speaks against your cunt. One hand slips between your legs, running two fingers through your folds in collection of your arousal, whilst his other hand tugs down at his own boxers, pulling his cock free and growling against your pussy as he starts to stroke at himself. "Fuuuuuckkk..." He pushes two fingers into you, easy with just how wet you are, and curls them in tandem with each pump of his cock.

Each thrust of his fingers pushes you just that little bit further onto Suguru's length. And you're thanking god that he's there, because without his muscled thighs to hold onto, you fear you’d be fucked too dizzy to keep yourself upright. You figure you must look a mess now, hair mussed and eyes bleary and drool rolling down your chin and all over Suguru's pulsing cock. 

You feel pathetic with how quickly your orgasm crests. Satoru must feel it too, how you clench around your fingers, the subtle tremor in your thighs, because his tongue only speeds up in its assault.  He's still stroking himself, keeping you open and willing as he sucks your clit harshly. Once you're right at the brink, teetering off the edge of ecstasy, Suguru pulls out of your mouth and leans down to crash his lips against yours. 

"Come," he orders into your mouth, tasting himself on your tongue. "Come for us, darling, come on now."

You're overwhelmed by Suguru's rakish lips over yours, and Satoru's relentless tongue over your sex. Before you can even try to present yourself for the cameras, you're cumming, hard. You writhe against Suguru, and your nails scrape across his thighs until you can hardly draw breath. The world slows down around you, leaving nothing but pleasure to consume.

"Holy shit," Satoru’s breath comes out in a hitched sort of laughter as he pulls back, not bothering to wipe away the sheen of your lust that coats his mouth and chin. “My head’s spinning, I think I’m in heaven. Do I still have a pulse?”

He makes a show of checking his pulse, despite the way you roll your eyes. You’re still coming down from your climax as Suguru peppers feather-light kisses over your face. Satoru, feeling more hungry than doting, brings his two fingers to his own mouth, licking them clean. Suguru catches sight of the action and gently pulls back from you, something knowing in his eyes.

You assume he’s going to redirect your head back to his cock, let you finish your job, but instead he tuts and nods his head to your shared tryst, who is still diligently working at tasting you some more on his fingers. 

“Think someone’s a little pussydrunk,” Suguru grins, and you do too at the sight of Satoru Gojo so blatantly desperate for more. Your eyes drift down to his cock, long and hard and weeping with precum. 

Though, you don’t want to neglect Suguru, so you turn back to him — “you didn’t finish,” you make a move to reach for his cock, still rock hard and achy-looking, but your lover shakes his head gently. 

“Got other plans,” he nods subtly to Gojo. “How about we show our stalker here just how much better the real thing is?”

You grin, catching onto his drift, and watch over your shoulder as Satoru rolls his pretty blue eyes. “You know, I’ve had the real thing, from both of you.”

“You haven’t had both of us,” Suguru shrugs. “And I know you’ve fucked your fist to the thought of it. Don’t lie, or you won’t enjoy this as much as you could.”

Satoru’s loaded remark gets stuck in his throat as Suguru pulls away from you entirely, though not without a gentle kiss to your forehead first. He stands by the bed, rolls his shoulders and nods to Satoru — “go on,” he gestures to you, still on your hands and knees. “Taste me on her lips.”

Satoru would probably blush if he weren’t so dedicated to the promise of a taste, because he’s got a hand under your stomach and is flipping you onto your back with ease in only half a second. You sigh at the reprieve of the strain on your hands and knees, and revel in how soft Satoru’s mattress is, when he’s collapsing on top of you with a strangled growl and his lips are meeting yours.

It’s a strange thing, to taste both Satoru, yourself, and Suguru at the same time. You taste Satoru in the way he kisses, hungry and listless, with knocking teeth and exploratory tongues. You taste Suguru in the remnants of his cock in your mouth, the precum that has coated your tongue, mixed with your saliva that now mixes with Gojo’s. And you taste yourself glossed on Satoru’s lips; your climax, the buildup of pleasure he had gifted you with both his mouth and fingers. 

A strange mix, maybe, but a perfect one nonetheless. You have to close your eyes to stop yourself from growing too dizzy, and also partly to stop yourself from worrying too hard — how were you meant to enjoy anything to its full potential now that you know how this tastes?

Satoru’s cock presses against the inside of your thigh; you can feel the gentle thrum of its pulse — a testament to his aching need. His arms box you in on either side, settled comfortably between your still-shaky legs. When he pulls back, a string of saliva connects your lips to his, and his eyes are darker than you remember. 

“I need to be inside of you, need. You’re fuckin’... god I can’t think.”

As if by instinct, your legs part further, allowing him the access he so craves. It’s a fluid movement, the way he moves one hand down to direct his cock to your slick folds. He rubs himself against you, his tip kissing your clit teasingly. You suck in a shaky breath between parted lips, and when he doesn’t hurry up despite his desperation, you feel like you could cry.

Though, before a complaint can leave your lips, you're watching as Suguru joins you two on the bed, kneeling behind Satoru and running his long fingers gently down the white-haired man's bare back. Satoru's head falls forward at the touch, and as your boyfriends hand runs lower and lower on his back, you realise exactly where this is going. 

"You're gonna fuck her good," Suguru purrs, graceful in his touch. "Because I'm going to help you -- that okay?" He reaches back up, brushing his knuckles from between his shoulder blades, down the curve of his spine until he reaches his tailbone. 

Satoru's eyes are locked on yours as he answers your lover. "Yes," his exhale is beyond needy. "Please, god. Yes."

And from there, things move with practised ease. It feels normal to submit yourself, your body, to Satoru. As Suguru takes hold of either side of his waist and guides him into you, the stretch is searing. You remember just how hard it was to adjust to his size the first time, having to try and keep your face melted neutral for the cameras. You don't feel that same pressure now, despite Satoru still filming, and your nose scrunches up at the feeling of Satoru inside of you.

"You're..." you try, words stuck in your throat as Suguru pushes Satoru's hips into yours a little more. "Please."

Satoru takes control of the pace, his breath hot and heavy on your cheek, his body moving in sync. You moan as he starts thrusting slowly in and out, stretching every muscle in your body as you get used to the feeling. With every thrust, you feel him getting harder and deeper within you, and his mouth dips down to trail along the sensitive skin on your neck.

It's a narcotic, the way he fills you. He's longer than Suguru, though not quite as thick, but he reaches depths that aren't typical for you. As he sheathes himself deeper and deeper inside of you, with the help of Suguru's hands on his waist, You slowly become spineless; relaxing into the pleasure of his sweet push and pull.

Sweat beads at your skin as Satoru quickens the pace, pulling out and plunging back in again with unbridled whimpers as Suguru works on taking his fill. Your boyfriend, domineering though still gentle, starts working your tryst open with one of his fingers.

"Ah- fuck," Satoru's words are heady with need, the initial discomfort of Suguru's fingers pushing into his ass are quickly forgotten, replaced with a deep yearning for more sensation. It sends his hips snapping into yours, bottoming out inside of you at such depths you can't help but cry out. It's a symphony of wetness and gasps of air, each syllable punctuated by Satoru's frantic movements. Your body grows tighter and tighter around Satoru with every pass as he gets worked open so beautifully by Suguru.

Your mind is clouded by everything Satoru has done to you and by the sheer force of him filling you with his cock and all that comes with it. You're completely and utterly lost in the moment, consumed by Satoru, who is consumed by Suguru, who is consumed in the pleasure of serving you both in turn. 

"More," Satoru is barely able to get the word out as he slams deeper and deeper inside of you. "Fuck, more."

And Suguru isn't one to deny a pretty thing like Satoru such pleasures; he's pulling his fingers out of him in seconds and replacing them with the head of his cock at his ass. Suguru is gentle, but unrelenting as he thrusts himself into Satoru in one fluid motion. The pressure is enough to prick tears at Satoru's pretty blue eyes, which you reach up and wipe away from underneath him. 

A moment is shared, a chance for Satoru to breathe the best he can, before he's testing the waters and pushing back a little, onto Suguru's cock, before thrusting his hips forward, into you. 

This is ecstasy incarnate. The two men seem to merge together, their bodies melting as they meet. Suguru fucks you through Satoru, each thrust into him is a thrust into you, into the both of you. It almost hurts, you'd wager, the way your whole body throbs in synchronization with theirs, the way Satoru moans as Suguru drives you both to insanity. It's a weird way to connect with your lover, but one that works nonetheless, the both of you seem to share an awful yearning for the man sandwiched between you, fucked mindless. 

And then he's driving your entire being towards the edge, and you feel the orgasm coming on, the rush of blood to your head, your muscles tightening around Satoru. It's a strange feeling of being connected to something bigger than yourself, a system working in tandem with each other to chase climax, but it's a feeling you're quickly growing addicted to. It's warm, it's comforting, and most importantly, it's yours. This man right here, his body pressed tight between yours and Sugurus, is yours. Even if only for the early morning.

"Gonna cum," you whine, lips ghosting against Satoru's. He nods, eyes locked onto yours. 

"M—fuck—me too, baby. God, you have to let me come inside of you, doll, can't deny me, please. You—"

"You better," Suguru cuts in, his voice biting from behind Satoru. He thrusts sharply into Satoru, sending him keening forward into you, pressing right into your sensitive g-spot as Suguru hits his prostate in a mirrored pleasure. "Wanna watch you claim her," he bears down, "gonna fill you up, you fill her — watch her face, Satoru. Watch what you do to her."

You gasp as Satoru's fingers dip down to rub frantic circles over your clit, pushing you closer and closer to orgasm with each knock of his hips into your, of Suguru's into his. the room is filled with a chorus of moans and whines and desperate pleas for more and more and more. You know you'll never recover from this level of arousal if you don't come soon, but before you can find purchase in your body and begin your descent into bliss, Suguru is first to come undone.

His hips snap forward into Satoru, head craning into his neck, biting down on the muscle of his shoulders for some sort of physical gag — ever the one to stifle those beautiful noises of his. And the feeling of being filled in such ravaging volumes must be enough to send Satoru over the edge, too, because he's knitting his eyebrows together and cumming ropes into you in only moments.

"Fuck," he whines, once again tears prick at his eyes, overwhelmed by the duality of his pleasure, of you and Suguru, so close to you but also never close enough. He wants to be one with you, a complete unit, bound by sex and soul and the sweet sounds of the most powerful orgasm he's ever had in his life. 

You come in tandem with him, it's completely blinding. Your legs fall apart as you cry out, nails scraping across Satoru's bicep as the world melts away and the sensations start swirling about in your mind's eye and the last thing you register is Satoru collapsing forward, breathing raggedly into your ear. 

You catch the salty flavour of him as you suck in a lungful of air and smile in response, fucked stupid and blissful and never ready to give this feeling up. Never ready to give anyone else this feeling- god, you already despise whoever gets to taste Satoru Gojo next. 

Suguru has to pull out of Satoru slowly, and you wipe at his face with the pad of your thumb when it scrunches up in protest of the loss of Suguru’s stretch. Before he can truly call the scene over, though, Satoru leans down and presses the most gentle of kisses to your lips. A myriad of ‘thankyouthankyouthankyou’s spill from his tongue as he does so, each word cut by a kiss to the expanse of your face.

And when he pulls out of you a sickening gush of his cum follows. It spills from your aching pussy and onto the bed sheets beneath you, though Satoru doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest. He swipes his finger through the mess he’s made of your sex, smiling when you hiss at just how sensitive you are, and brings his cum-coated finger back to his mouth, eyes never leaving yours. 

Your stomach flips at the sight. Great, he’s gone and fucked you lovestruck.

“Satoru,” a clean voice cuts in. Your head constricts in your fucked out daze when you turn to see Suguru standing by the tripod, his eyebrows raised and pretty purple eyes beyond amused. “It’s not even fucking recording.”

Instead of being confused, Satoru looks sheepish. He flops down onto the bed next to you, eyes glossy and cheeks blushed pink. “I…. can explain? I think I’d rather die than share the two of you with the world. But I’d really die if I didn’t get my hands on you both.”

You meet your boyfriend's gaze. Something passes between you, something knowing. In a weird, probably unhealthy way, you both feel the exact same. This was never a scene for the cameras, anyway— not when such strong… feelings are involved.

“I’m not proposing marriage here,” Satoru huffs when he catches onto your shared gaze. “I just, you enjoyed it, right?”

You giggle from beside him, your sweat-soaked skin cool against the air. Suguru chimes in with his laughter, melodic and beautiful. He folds his arms and watches the two of you laid across the bed. 

“Let’s get you both cleaned up, then,” Suguru hums. “I’m not fucking either of you again until we’ve shared a shower.

TAGLIST: @sugurubabe @fullbelieverheart @starrysho @meowforluv @ch3rryistheg @miizuzu @okayiamkassandra @inconcise @sexcults @hotgirlgoob @mistalli @ourfinalisation @graceloveslanadelrey @blessed-princesa @plinkuro @pe4rl-diver @sugojosgf @beachaddict48 @chimmysoftpaws @blendingcaramal @dongh9e @caramelised-onions @kyluskaye @sammywo @4evrglow @hiraethwa @stinkinstuffie @tomiokasecretlover @ser0t0nln @yuzu-ku @lagataprrr @dear-fifi @hel-lhound @kensqueent @sserafin @dabisdolly @zoroisminty @angelkazusstuff @reinam00n @kaeyakaikai @bunny416 @littletittygothgirl @glitterbitch1 @saccharine-nectarine

cont in comments !

[parkers-gal]

make-believe girlfriend J.B.

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader, a smidge of grumpy x sunshine

wc: 3.1k

warnings: use of nickname 'peaches.' long distance relationship

summary: after a three month long mission, bucky returns and he has a girlfriend. the team doesn't believe she exists

a/n: i loooooveeee this i hope u do too ! <3

⋆˚✶˚‧⋆｡˚

it was supposed to be a simple mission followed by a month long sabbatical. three months steve told bucky in between sets in the training room. two months to finish the mission, one month to just… explore. you need to get out, discover, to just- i don’t know… do something else besides be a soldier.

bucky had laughed at first. “coming from you? the world’s best soldier? that’s rich.”

“i know i’m not one to talk. but i care about you, buck. wakanda was good for you, i just want you to be at peace again.”

bucky hummed. “i’ll think about it.”

steve nodded, then after a beat, added “if not for you, do it for me.”

that was two weeks ago. now, bucky can’t even believe he’s packing his bags and loading onto the quinjet. alone. for the first time in almost 70 years, he’s afraid of something. of what, he doesn’t know. that’s what’s so nerve wracking about the entire ordeal – with hydra, he’d always known who to fear, who to submit to. when he was fighting on the field, there was always a bad guy, an alien, a man with a scepter. but this was out of his experience. 

footsteps sound behind him. dropping his duffel bag by his backpack, bucky turns around calmly, trying to read steve’s face.

“you can call every once in awhile… if you want to. or just- you know. don’t forget your check ins.”

bucky nods. “it’s just a couple months, steve. i’ll be fine.”

he laughs a little. “i know. i don’t want you to think i’m pushing you to get out.”

“i know you’re not.” a hesitant smile spreads on his face. steve can see right through it, but he doesn’t comment, merely offering a hug. he pats bucky on the back as they always do, and once again, bucky is alone on the quinjet. 

it was scary at first. chicago is so different from his little corner in brooklyn, safe in a bubble of familiarity. his apartment came pre-furnished, and felt more home-like than his bare apartment in new york. it was easy to play along, to act like he was playing a part on a mission.

but then he met you.

the walls of his facade started to crumble, and he found himself seeping into the soft sheets of his bed instead of a thin blanket on the hardwood floor. it became harder and harder for him to convince himself that he was faking the enjoyment of this trip.

you worked at the cafe nearby his apartment. his neighbor came home one day as bucky was leaving, and the smell of her coffee coupled with the croissant in her other hand was enough encouragement he needed to try out the restaurant. 

the bell at the front alerted you of a new customer. you smiled while frothing some milk for an order, “i’ll be right with you!” you chirped sweetly. 

the way you moved behind the counter had bucky in a trance the first time he laid eyes on you. the atmosphere around you was bubbling; it was as if bucky had walked right into a room of sunshine, and you were the star, beautiful and gentle and sweet. he wanted more.

dusting your hands on your apron, you stepped towards the register. “what can i get for you?”

a pause. worry was etched on bucky’s face.

“have you been here before?”

he shook his head. “i don’t know what to get, i’m sorry.”

you smiled again, soft and reassuring. it melted his insides. “that’s okay. would you like any suggestions?”

he finally grew the courage to look at your eyes. his mouth went a little dry, lips parted in shock. you were just so beautiful. he couldn’t describe it. “yeah.”

another comforting smile spread across your face and it soothed him immediately.

“i think our latte macchiato is one our yummiest drinks. i usually get the peach cobbler croissant. it’s amazing when it’s warm and gooey.”

“peach cobbler croissant?”

you nodded, “house original. don’t knock it ‘till you try it,” another smile. 

this time, he smiled back. “okay, i’ll have those, then.”

“great!” you finished registering his order before moving back towards the various coffee machines, lightly singing along to the music playing. a few more people trickle in and out, and bucky takes his time admiring the quaint cafe. 

“hey,” you lightly call. “i never got a name for that order.” you hold a cup of coffee in one hand, a sharpie in the other. 

bucky steps closer to the counter, a sudden surge of confidence rippling through him like it used to back in the 30s. “can i give you a number for it too?”

your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. with a shy nod, you place his cup on the counter and take out a notepad from your apron. he recites his phone number and, with a grateful smile, leaves the shop. his legs almost give out as soon as he steps outside. he’s never been so nervous around a girl before. 

he finished his mission two weeks earlier than planned. that gave him a month and a half to do whatever he wanted in the city. what he really wanted was you. every morning, he’d try a new drink and whatever breakfast special you had that day. and every day, at the end of your shift, bucky would walk you home. or sometimes, you’d walk to the park and sit on the bench and just talk. 

by the second week of this, bucky asked you out on that bench. 

⋆˚✶˚‧⋆｡˚

stepping into bucky’s apartment, you place your keys in the bowl by the front door, and drop your apron next to your shoes. bucky lounges on the couch, a book in his lap and the tv on low.

“peaches?” he closes his book. “why didn’t you call me? i would’ve come to get you.”

you hum, sliding onto the couch beside him. “didn’t wanna bother you.”

he tsks at you before kissing your forehead, pulling you into his side. “how was work?”

you shrug. “i saw the cutest dog. i gave her some whipped cream and it was so cute.”

he smiles, squeezing you close. “wanna watch tv and order in?”

you nod, shuffling to grab the remote and putting your feet in his lap. “wanna watch gilmore girls?”

he massages your sock-clad feet and hums in approval at your question. 

it’s odd how quickly he let go of his life at home. something about you made him want to be everything he thought he could be before the war, before hydra, before everything. he does miss home – new york city, the avengers compound, his clanky washing machine, steve and yes, even sam. but the longer he spends here, the more his home starts to feel like you. 

“i think i love you.” the words slip out before he can register them, and his hands freeze in the middle of massaging you. you turn your head slowly, eyes softening upon hearing his words. “i’m sorry, it’s way too soon to say that i don’t even know why i-”

“i love you too.” you cut in. “i think i’m falling in love with you, bucky barnes.”

his eyes well up and he tugs you closer. “really?”

you nod, a grin breaking out on your face. “really.”

seeing your smile makes him start to smile too. “i’m falling in love with you, too.”

when he kisses you, it’s tender and caring, and his hand cups your face gently. he tastes faintly of apricot jam, and you sigh into the kiss, tugging him closer. “i don’t want you to go.”

he rests his forehead against yours, frowning. “aww, peaches.” bucky places a feather-light kiss to your cheek. “i’ll miss you so much.” 

you nod in acknowledgement. “don’t know what i’m gonna do without you here.”

“i’ll visit as much as i can, honey.”

you huff, sniffing just below his jaw, inhaling his scent. “i know,” you pout. “but i really love being around you.”

bucky can’t help his smile from forming. you’re just so cute, missing him already when he hasn’t even left yet. 

“good thing i have two weeks left to spend as much time with my girl as possible.”

his fingers slip down to your waist, pressing into your sides. laughter bubbles from your throat as you try to pry him off you. bucky chuckles at you, the adorable giggles spewing from your mouth are enough to make him kiss you again. 

“you’re so pretty, peaches.”

you huff, out of breath from the tickling. “yeah?” it’s your turn. “you think so?”

“what are you doing…”

“…nothing…”

“peach- hey!” 

you attack his freakishly hard abdomen, squeezing the muscles with all your might until bucky pulls you up and plops you into his lap, laying back on the couch. satisfied, you rest your hands against his chest. 

“i wonder what stevie’ll think of you.”

your brow quirks. “you mean… captain america?”

bucky laughs, “that’s not his real name.”

you slap his chest lightly. “i know that, silly.”

“don’t know how i got so lucky.” his eyes twinkle at you.

lacing your fingers with his, you give his hand a squeeze. “me too.”

⋆˚✶˚‧⋆｡˚

bucky skillfully lands the quinjet on the helicopter pad at the compound. after showing you all the cool gadgets on the plane, bucky was reluctant to leave your side, but you kissed him and promised to facetime as soon as he was settled in, and bucky couldn’t say no to that, so he kissed you goodbye and waved as he took off, never having been so sad to return to his home in new york.

strolling into the compound, his backpack dangles from his right shoulder as he holds his duffel bag in his metal hand. he makes his way to his room, passing wanda and vision in the kitchen who say ‘hello’ while making some sokovian dish. 

while he unpacks, steve knocks on his door despite bucky leaving it open. 

“hey, buck. how was it?”

closing his dresser drawer, bucky shifts towards steve who steps into the room. 

“it was good. i think… you were right. i really needed that.”

“that’s awesome, man. i’m really happy for you. maybe we can talk about it tonight, have some beers and just catch up?”

bucky nods, already grinning to himself when he thinks about telling steve about you.

he showers, facetimes you for a good hour, before friday alerts him that dinner is ready. he finishes his call with you and heads towards the kitchen, finding sam and steve spread on a table with food. natasha and wanda have taken their plates to the tv, opting to watch a new episode of some show. peter and tony are too caught up in some math problem to leave the couch.

“what’s up, terminator?”

squinting at him, bucky grabs a beer and pops it open with his metal arm, taking a seat beside steve at the round table. “so,” steve talks in between mouthfuls of food. “tell us about the trip.”

taking a gulp of beer, bucky bites the inside of his cheek. “i… met a girl.”

silence overtakes the three of them. 

“what?”

“really?”

bucky nods, a blush already heating up his face. 

“so… are you dating?” steve put his fork down to really look at bucky, still shocked at the sudden news. his friend nods in response. 

“wow.” sam leans back in his chair. “i don’t believe it.”

“what?” it’s bucky’s turn to be shocked, eyebrows furrowing at sam’s confession. “what do you mean you don’t believe it?”

“you go on a three month long trip and suddenly you have a girlfriend for the first time in 70 years? no way.”

“sam, be nice.”

“i am being nice.” he loads up his fork for another bite. “i’m just saying i’ll believe it when i meet her.”

“well, she lives in chicago, bird-brain.”

“who lives in chicago?” natasha suddenly appears in front of them, an empty glass in her hand, presumably here to refill it. 

“bucky’s girlfriend.”

“sam!” steve slaps his shoulder

natasha’s mouth drops open. “you got a girlfriend?!”

bucky’s mouth forms into a disapproving line. “yeah, and sam doesn’t believe she exists.”

she laughs at this, beckoning over wanda and tony.

bucky wants to hide in his room at the sudden amount of people staring at him. 

“i’m with sam on this one.”

“really tony?” steve’s tone is teasing but he can’t help but feel bad for bucky. “you too?”

“i’ll believe it when i see it.”

“whatever.” bucky mumbles, his plate empty and beer gone. “you guys don’t have to believe me.”

“okay, buddy.” sam laughs. “good luck keeping up the act.”

⋆˚✶˚‧⋆｡˚

it’s been five months since bucky was first in chicago, and the team is nowhere near closer to believing in his relationship with you. they’ve walked in on him on the phone, smiling down at his text messages, him on call with you, even him calling a local flower shop in chicago to send you flowers. still, only steve believes you exist, but even he is starting to grow wary. somehow, bucky hasn’t shown any photographs of you, no letters, not even a video call to prove your existence. 

“i don’t know what else to do, peaches.” bucky pouts into the phone. on the other end, you laugh softly.

“they still don’t believe you?”

“sam thought i was texting myself today. myself! i told him i don’t even know how to do that! when i tried to show him photo of you, he said it doesn’t count unless i’m in the photo with you. then he said something about shop photo.”

“... do you mean photoshop?”

“yes! that!”

you giggle at him again. 

“this isn’t funny, peaches.”

“sounds awfully funny to me.” you can’t help but tease him. “why can’t you just put them on the phone?”

“they think i’m just gonna hire someone to pretend to be my girlfriend.” 

you don’t respond for a second, merely humming. “i’m sure we’ll think of something.”

the conversation changes and after a few minutes, clint comes by to get bucky for training. 

“hey, you’re late for training. steve is already downstairs waiting.”

“oh crap,” he pulls his phone closer to his ear. “i’m sorry, peaches. i gotta go. i love you.”

he hangs up after a moment and then moves to grab his gym bag.

“that your pretend girlfriend?” clint points to the phone.

bucky rolls his eyes. “not you, too.”

he raises his arms in defense. “sam has a good point.”

the two of them walk down the hall. “i don’t think he makes a good point.” he grumbles. clint laughs at him, entering the gym where nat and steve are sparring. 

“he’s here.” sam calls out, alerting steve. “what were you doing? calling your fake girlfriend?”

“she’s not fake.” 

“your make-believe girlfriend.”

“alright, sam,” steve interjects. “let’s just get started.”

by the time training ends, bucky just wants to cuddle on the couch with you and fall asleep. but you’re not here, and you haven’t texted him back since your phone call earlier. so, he’s stuck lounging on the couch, freshly showered, watching movies with the rest of the team for some “bonding” that steve insisted on. 

“why wouldn’t they just exchange numbers if they clearly like each other?”

“because,” wanda turns to bruce. “she wants fate to bring them together.”

“fate is not a five dollar bill. fate already brought them together! they’re just denying it.”

before anyone else responds, friday alerts them of someone’s arrival. 

“friday, who is it?” tony calls out. 

“she is not in the stark catalog or the shield workforce database, sir.” she responds.

“how did she get in here, then?”

“miss potts approved of her.”

they all exchange glances until the elevator doors slide open and in it, you with your overnight bag. 

stepping towards the group, you shyly call out. “bucky?”

he whips his head around, standing immediately. “peaches?”

a smile blooms across your face, dropping your bags to engulf him in a hug. he’s never hugged anyone so hard. 

“what are you doing here?” he kisses the top of your head. 

“i wanted to surprise you.” you speak quietly so only he can hear. “and i wanted to prove my existence” you giggle.

“who the fuck is that?”

“language.”

sam looks annoyingly at steve before focusing back on you two.

“sam…” natasha looks disappointed for him. “i think that’s bucky’s girlfriend.”

his jaw drops. “no way.” he scoffs. “no way she actually exists.”

“yeah, what?” tony looks around in shock. “and she just waltzes in here??”

you chuckle at the group of supers. “i thought you said they were smart.” 

bucky laughs at your comment. “sometimes they are.” 

“so you’re actually his girlfriend?” wanda studies you. “how did you meet?”

“bucky came to the cafe i work at.” you smile fondly at the memory. “we make the best peach cobbler croissants. i brought the recipe for you all to try.”

a few ears perk up at this. 

“what’s bucky’s middle name?” sam quizzes. “if you’re really his girlfriend.”

bucky wants to slap his forehead.

“uhm… pretty sure bucky is his middle name.” you laugh out. 

“oh.”

“that was a stupid question, sam.”

“i forgot!” he waves his hands around to dismiss what just happened. “what’s my middle name??”

“aren’t you supposed to be quizzing her about bucky?”

“not the point, peter.”

“you shouldn’t even be quizzing her.” bucky wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you into his side. “everyone, this is y/n. my girlfriend. my real girlfriend.” 

the sight of affection from bucky causes a silence to settle over the group, as if that was the definitive determining factor in this whole ordeal. 

“y/n, this is the team.” 

you smile, waving at them. 

“that’s steve.”

bucky points him out and steve immediately stands up, offering a hand. “it’s nice to finally meet you.”

you smile in response, the same soft one that had bucky falling for you in the first place.

“he’s the only one who actually believes you exist.” bucky whispers lowly into your ear, and the feel of his facial hair tickles you. “maybe we can all hang out later.” bucky announces, pulling you along towards the hallway to his room. 

he shuts the door behind you, pulling you into his arms. “i can’t believe you’re here.”

you tug at his henley, dog tags clinking as you pull him closer, wanting to kiss him after being void of it for so long. “kiss me already, barnes.”

and kiss you, he does. 

⋆˚✶˚‧⋆｡˚

bucky masterlist

[kingdomvel]

New season boring af pt2

Steddie | modern au | famous actor Steve Harrington | 4.9k | ao3

part one

“Are you talking with that guy again?” The sound of Robin’s voice startles Steve, who can only lock his phone and slip it into his pocket to hide it from her. He wasn’t even talking with Eddie, that’s the embarrassing part. He was looking at the pictures that he had shared with him over the months they have been talking.

“No,” Steve says, but he must not sound very convincing.

“Steve! I’ve told you he could be a weirdo, or a stalker!”

“And I’ve told you he is not a stalker, he was not that interested in me before we started texting. And he works in a record store all the way in Chicago. I’ve seen it.”

“Do you understand the concept of catfishes? He could still be a stalker.”

“Well that stalker has seen my dick, so” Steve shrugs.

“WHAT? You whore!” Robin shouts, Steve is very thankful that they are alone in the makeup trailer now. “When did this happen?”

Steve crosses his arms and grumbles, knowing what is coming. “A month ago?”

“A MONTH?”

“Yeah.” And what a fucking month it has been. Steve can still remember that first time in perfect detail. Steve had not expected Eddie’s picture. At all. He had been hoping for a reaction, that’s why he had chosen that movie, but Eddie had given him something much better. The sight of his tented pyjamas was only surpassed by the sight of his actual dick on the video call later.

Steve will admit – only to himself – that it was reckless and dangerous, but it was also the culmination of weeks of studying Eddie’s picture, of watching time and time again the little videos he posted in his close friends stories (the day Steve had been added to the list was another peak for him, as embarrassing as that is) playing guitar and dicking around with his friends (maybe he was the stalker of the two). It was Steve seeing how he affected the guy he had the hots for after months of being sexually frustrated with barely enough time to jack off between filming. Because of course Eddie wasn’t only funny and nice to talk to, he also had to be the hot friend of his group.

He had not been planning for that reaction, but he was not going to pass up that opportunity. Seeing the hand he had seen wrapped around guitar necks for so long wrapped around Eddie’s cock… Steve was never going to forget that sight.

“This is crazy, like, do you even know his name?” Robin interrupts his thoughts.

“Of course I do, he’s Eddie.” He’s always known his name, it’s in his profile.

“Surname?”

Steve pauses. “You don’t know the surname of all your friends.”

“I think in this case you should have asked, Steve.”

“Why can’t you trust me with this?”

“I just worry about you, and maybe I’m a bit sad that you didn’t tell me sooner.”

“I knew you would just nag me about it.”

“Hah! So you know what you did was wrong!”

“If you didn’t want this to happen then you shouldn’t have made me watch Notting Hill.”

“That’s different!”

“How.”

“Well, for one it’s a movie,” she says, putting up a finger. Steve rolls his eyes and puts his hands on his hips. That’s pretty obvious. “Two!” Robin puts up another finger. “They met in real life, not the internet.”

“It was the 90s, of course they met in person. Are you saying that it would be fine if I went to Chicago and met him casually in his record store?”

“No, maybe, don’t try to distract me.”

“Keep your points coming, come on.”

“Three!” Another finger comes up. “Hugh Grant is... hot?”

Steve snorts. “Eddie is hot too.” They wouldn’t be having this conversation if he wasn’t. “And anyways, you are a lesbian, you have no opinion on this.” He waves it off with a hand.

“I still have eyes, and that’s what everyone says.”

“Not valid. Your arguments are not accepted, I know you don’t think Hugh Grant is hot.”

“But that’s not the point! Ugh, okay.” Robin pauses for a few seconds, but Steve knows she’s not finished talking. “So, he saw your dick, did you see his? Wait, no, don’t tell me details. A month ago? I still can’t believe it. Have you done that again?”

And there she is. Steve laughs. “Yes, we’ve done it again.”

****

Steve.hrrgtn: hey, just a quick question

Steve.hrrgtn: what’s your surname?

Batking: why? trying to steal it for yourself?

Steve’s heart should not skip like that from that line.

Steve.hrrgtn: just so I know who I should address the restraining order to when you finally try to murder me

Batking: fuck youve been talking with robin again?

Batking: its munson

Batking: edward munson

Batking: you need anything else? my social security number or something? Ill send you a picture of my drivers license

Steve.hrrgtn: I think I only need that for now, thank you for your cooperation

Batking: you better not be lying about the reason

Batking: if I catch you writing one mr and mr munson in your diary you will need the restraining order for real

Steve’s heart should NOT skip like that from that line.

****

Steve takes a picture on the mirror of the dressing room, stylists still all around him. Nobody pays attention to him, they are all too busy for that, packing up and chatting. Steve should be taking the graduation gown off so it can be packed up with everything else, just so they can go home earlier, but he had to take the picture first. He had taken pictures with the rest of the cast, sure, but this is different.

He is smiling, cap held in his hand.

Steve.hrrgtn: *picture attached*

Steve.hrrgtn: just graduated

He sends the message and moves to take the costume off and his own clothes back on. When he takes his phone back, there is a message already waiting for him. A smile makes its way to his face in a second.

Batking: at the grown age of 25, took you even longer than me and I did my senior year three times

Batking: congratu fucking lations

Steve.hrrgtn: you are an asshole

Steve.hrrgtn: but do you know what this means??

Steve moves around the room, thanking everyone. It takes him a while, so he is confused when an answer is not waiting for him when he looks back at his phone.

Steve.hrrgtn: Eddie?

Batking: *Screenshot of the I’M FREEEE!!!!!! WORST EXPERIENCE OF MY FUCKING LIFE meme*

Batking: this?

Batking: sorry sweetheart I was looking for the meme

Steve.hrrgtn: EXACTLY THAT

Steve.hrrgtn: not like the WORST because I met Robin here and all but FUCK YEAH it’s over

Batking: these four months of waiting for the torture to finish must have felt so long

Steve smiles, typing as he walks outside. They are having a wrap party later, so he needs to find Robin so they can get ready together.

Steve.hrrgtn: hmm not really

Steve.hrrgtn: I had someone sending me memes to entertain me that made the time fly

Batking: must be one hell of a lucky guy

Steve.hrrgtn: assuming genders now?

Batking: oh sorry, are you cheating on me with another meme provider? Am I not enough for you now? You looked for someone else to keep you company?

Steve knows this is just teasing, that Eddie doesn’t believe that. Still.

Steve.hrrgtn: nah

Steve.hrrgtn: just you

****

Batking: okay were you going to tell me your mother is a fucking coppola

Steve.hrrgtn: she is a very respected lady

Steve.hrrgtn: also barely a coppola

Batking: still a coppola

Batking: you are a nepo baby

Steve.hrrgtn: every day it amazes me how little you know about me

Batking: I like keeping you humble

Batking: my brain doesn’t understand that the steve from my phone is really the Steve Harrington on tv sometimes

Batking: so I try not to see stuff about you on the internet

Batking: feels weird

Batking: MY ROOMMATE ON THE OTHER HAND

Batking: he was reading your wikipedia page and your mothers name was in blue so he started following the lead

Eddie had told him once that he hadn’t told his friends about what they had going on, that they just wouldn’t believe him. That must have changed. It makes Steve feel giddy.

Steve.hrrgtn: aw you finally told your friends about me?

Batking: they said they are happy to feed my delusions

Steve.hrrgtn: lmao

Batking: anyway that’s not the point here

Steve.hrrgtn: whats the point?

Steve.hrrgtn: you already knew I was rich and famous

Batking: yeah but this feels different

Batking: you are a nepo baby its like I should hate you

Batking: but you are such a good guy

Batking: from a rich family, hot, nice, funny…

Batking: you cant have everything its unfair

The rich family part doesn’t really do anything for Steve. It’s just a fact. But Eddie complimenting his personality and appearance? That always works on Steve.

Steve.hrrgtn: is this a way to get me to call you?

Steve.hrrgtn: because in the words of a metalhead I know

Steve.hrrgtn: flattery works on me

Batking: it wasnt at first

Batking: but I wont say no to a call with the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen

Steve lets out a huff. Eddie and him both know what he did there.

He taps the call icon.

****

Steve stands frozen in the middle of his living room, the smile that had been on his face now completely wiped off. For the first time since he started talking to Eddie, his heart has dropped to his gut at one of his messages.

He keeps his gaze on his phone, the screen staring back at him.

There is a screenshot of a picture of him and Nancy coming out of a restaurant at night. He has his arm wrapped around her shoulders. That was just last night, Nancy had been upset and he had been trying to shield her from the flashes. The picture is accompanied by the headline ‘Caught in the act! Steve Harrington back with ex?’. Eddie’s message is under it.

Batking: glad you are having fun now that filming has finished

It’s- not right. Steve knows Eddie’s snarky comments, knows the feel his teasing. This is not it.

Steve.hrrgtn: I thought you didn’t look for stuff about my private life on the internet?

It comes out as defensive, and Steve instantly regrets it, but it had been one of the things he liked about Eddie, how he learned about Steve from him and not from rumours and the internet.

Batking: turns out that talking to you makes it unavoidable

Of fucking course it does. Who was Steve kidding? He knew this was bound to happen, that the media was going to be a problem at some point. He tries not to blame it on Eddie.

Steve.hrrgtn: it’s not like that

Steve.hrrgtn: she’s just a friend

Steve.hrrgtn: she had a fight with her boyfriend and needed a bit of a pick me up

Batking: you don’t need to explain yourself to me

And that’s the thing, isn’t it? At the end of the day, they have not even met each other in person. That doesn’t make this feel right.

Steve tries to imagine how he would feel if he saw Eddie having dinner with an ex. He doesn’t like the feeling at all.

Steve.hrrgtn: I still want you to know

He needs him to know.

Batking: really steve it’s okay

Batking: I shouldnt have sent that

Batking: Im not sure why I did

Steve has an idea why he did, but he is not going to say it, too afraid of fucking everything up if he does.

Steve.hrrgtn: its okay

Steve.hrrgtn: you are giving me an excuse to bitch about the lack of privacy and how much I hate paps

Steve is sure Eddie is going to recognize it as what this is. A weak attempt at diffusing the tension. Steve hopes it works.

Batking: you know im always open to listen to you bitching about your lavish life

It’s still a bitchy comment, but Steve lets out a sigh of relief. He recognizes that heat.

****

Batking: holy shit steve

That’s the only message on Steve’s phone, it’s the only message from Eddie for a couple of hours. Steve very patiently (or not) waits for him to elaborate, growing more and more nervous when he doesn’t.

Steve.hrrgtn: Eddie? Did you get murdered?

Batking: sorry I texted you as soon as I got the call and then the guys came over and I got swept way

Steve.hrrgtn: that’s okay

Steve.hrrgtn: but what happened? Something good?

Steve really hopes it’s something good.

Batking: we got a gig

Batking: like an actual gig

Steve.hrrgtn: holy shit eddie!

Steve.hrrgtn: that’s amazing

Batking: can I call you?

He doesn’t need to ask, he knows that. They are way past the point of internet acquaintances or friends who sometimes jerk off together on the phone.

Steve hits the video call button, and Eddie answers almost immediately. He is walking away from the cacophony of his friends, a blush high on his cheeks and his hair a mess even as he tries to brush it down. He looks stupidly good.

“Jesus, you look great,” are the first words out of Eddie’s mouth.

Steve snorts, he had been lying on the couch thirty seconds ago. His hair is a mess, he hasn’t shaved in two days. He never lets anyone see him like this. Eddie is different.

“Shut up. You got a gig!”

“We got a gig!”

“How did it happen?”

“You know my friend Chrissy?” Eddie asks. He closes a door behind himself and the noise is now gone, they are alone. Steve nods. “She got a job at a venue that doubles as concert hall and club and they are doing a metal week or something like that. They are bringing some very cool groups from all around the country- I’m so excited to see some of them- but that’s not the point. They wanted to give an opportunity to a local band and that’s where we come in!”

“They gave it to you?”

“They said they really like our vibe.”

“Of course they do,” Steve says with a snort. If Steve didn’t know better, he would say that Eddie just came out of a movie set set in the 80s. Perfect vibe for a metal week.

“Don’t laugh!”

“I’m not laughing! You do have the vibe. Tell me more about it, when’s this happening?”

“It’s very short notice but-“

Steve listens as Eddie tells him all about it, with his excited gestures and the wide smile that splits his face. They talk until Eddie’s friends come to get him to go for celebratory drinks.

As soon as the call ends, Steve calls Robin.

“How do you feel about going to Chicago in two weeks?”

****

The venue is loud. It’s already full when Steve and Robin arrive, just a few minutes before the concert starts. It’s not big, Eddie had told Steve so, but it still has a proper stage, and actual, stablished groups have concerts here. It’s a big step from the bar where Eddie and his friends usually play to an audience more interested on their drinks and conversations than in listening to them. People had to pay for this, even if it was a ticket that included a drink or if it was included into the week pass.

Batking: we are about to come out and I’m nervous as fuck

Steve.hrrgtn: I thought everyone already knew you were gay?

Batking: shut up

Steve.hrrgtn: don’t be nervous

Steve.hrrgtn: I know you are going to be amazing

Batking: I wish you were here

Batking: its going to be the gig of the century

Okay so Steve has not told Eddie that he was coming to see him, so what? He really wanted to see him in his natural environment, just him, not influenced by the knowledge that Steve would be in the audience.

Steve.hrrgtn: I’m always with you

Batking: you know what I mean

Steve.hrrgtn: don’t worry about that

Steve.hrrgtn: you go give the best performance all these people have ever seen

They stay out of the dancefloor slash pit, up in the balcony next to the cloakroom. They have a great view of the stage and the only reason Steve can think for them being the only ones here is that it may not be allowed, but an employee starts walking towards them and just turns around when he takes a good look at them.

Batking: okay we are coming out now

Batking: ttyl <3

Steve.hrrgtn: <3

“It’s starting,” Steve tells Robin. Just a couple of seconds later the lights dim and four figures take up their positions at the stage.

When the music starts, it is loud.

Steve feels so fucking proud. He had seen videos of Eddie’s band performing at bars or jamming in the studio they rent, but they are not like this, they are nothing like this. It’s like they had been living in a cage and were now released in the wild. Steve was  fully prepared to lie to Eddie about what he thought of the concert. He has seen a lot of groups more experienced than Eddie’s that were not as good, that didn’t know how to hype up the audience like them, that weren’t so natural with it. Now, seeing Eddie on stage, he knows that he won’t have to lie about them being incredible.

Steve’s eyes can’t stray from Eddie. It’s like a magnet. Better than any video, better than any call. He can see the whole him, the way he moves, the way he smiles and his hair flows. The way his fingers move on the guitar. He can’t wait to be closer to him.

“Try not to ruin your underwear before you even meet him,” Robin yells into his ear. Steve pushes her away from him, but they are both laughing.

Steve has been wondering for days about how will Eddie react when he sees him for the first time. If it will be after the concert, when Steve inevitably makes his way to the green room, or if Eddie will be able to spot him in the audience. If maybe Steve will miss the moment Eddie’s eyes land on him.

The moment ends up being impossible to miss.

“Holy shit,” Eddie says into the microphone.

His eyes are focused on Steve, his mouth gaping. Steve laughs and waves to him and Eddie gives him a small wave in answer from the stage before his eyes jump back down to the audience.

“Holy shit you guys are great,” he tries to brush it off. “Keep the energy up for the next song!”

The concert continues, but now Steve catches Eddie’s eyes every few minutes, a smile coming to both their faces every time.

It’s not long before Eddie is speaking again.

“It is with great sadness that I must inform you that the next song is our last. Yes, yes, I know, very sad,” he says in response to the oohs from the audience. “I just wanted to take a minute to thank the organization for putting their trust on us and giving us this opportunity. Also to all of you good humans that decided to use your money to come see us, I expect your follows by tomorrow.” He starts playing, the others matching the rhythm. A repeating single note. “To all the metalheads and non-metalheads here,” he adds, louder, his gaze fixing on Steve. “I’m taking groupie applications. The requisites are: One! Be a male, sorry ladies. Two! Be 25 years old. Three! Have great hair. And four, have at least one teen choice award for best shirtless scene.” There are confused sounds from the audience, but Eddie is grinning and Steve is laughing. “Very easy to meet, the backstage door is impossible to miss.” He flicks his gaze to the side, and Steve follows it to see a door at the side of the balcony. He sends him a thumbs up. “Okay, lets rock this shit!”

The concert ends with a bang, and Steve and Robin scurry off to the backstage door before people start coming up to go out for a smoke, because not many people seem to be going home yet, the venue staying open as a bar. They don’t run into any problem because again, an employee takes one good look at their face and opens the staff only door for them. Steve has to admit that sometimes being  so famous has its perks.

The sound of the music gets muted the moment the door closes behind them. The corridor is long, but they only have to follow the shouts of exited boys.

Eddie is the first person Steve sees when they get to the green room. He is jumping up and down while hugging his friends and they all scream. Steve crosses his arms and leans on the doorframe with a grin, Robin next to him. Eddie must catch the movement with his side eye because he stops and turns to them with a grin.

“I told you you were going to do great,” Steve says as a greeting.

The other boys finally stop too, and Steve sees the confusion and disbelief down on their faces when they take them in.

“Eddie, tell me I’m not seeing your imaginary boyfriend,” one of them says.

“You are Gareth, aren’t you? The roommate,” Steve says, pointing at him while he walks over. “Eddie has told me about you.”

Gareth takes his hand with his mouth wide open and barely a coherent thought behind his eyes. Steve sees Eddie’s eyes land with a laser focus on their clasped hands.

“Can’t believe I owe Chrissy twenty,” another boy says with a groan. Jeff, Steve is pretty sure.

“You bet I was making it up?” Eddie asks, offended.

“I bet you were too deep into a parasocial relationship.”

“And I bet you were getting scammed by a catfish,” the other boy says.

Robin lets out a cackle.

“I told Steve the same thing!”

They start talking around them, but Steve doesn’t care. He is two steps away from Eddie, he can see the sweat from the concert glistening on his skin, the deep brown of his eyes staring into him. He needs to close that distance. Before he can take a step forward, Eddie speaks.

“Do you want to come out for some fresh air? There’s a fenced back area for deliveries, should be empty.”

Does Steve want to go with Eddie to a spot with just the two of them? Fuck yeah.

“Yes! The air is so stuffy here, I might die if I don’t come out for a few minutes,” Robin says.

Eddie moves his eyes from Steve to her, his smile turning awkward.

“Right, yeah. Guys, we are stepping out for a couple minutes, okay?” Eddie calls out, taking a leather jacket from the back of a chair. “Follow me.”

Steve’s gaze drops to Eddie’s ass when he walks past them and back into the corridor. Fuck. He needs to close that distance.

Eddie holds the door to the outside for them, gesturing for them to come out with his other hand. His fingers are twitching, his whole body is, for that matter. He’s nervous, Steve can tell.

The door closes with bang after them, and they stand in the dimly lit outside. Robin is talking, and Steve feels just a bit bad about how Eddie and him are very obviously not listening to her.

Eddie is fiddling with the zippers of his jacket, his eyes roaming Steve’s body and flicking to Robin for a second from time to time.

They stay like that for a couple of minutes before Eddie takes a pack of cigarettes from a pocket of his jacket.

“You smoke?” he asks Steve.

“I’m an actor,” Steve says as answer.

Eddie smiles and, before Steve can reach out to grab a cigarette, Eddie has grabbed two and put both in his mouth. He moves to put the pack back in his pocket before he seems to remember that they are not alone and offers it to Robin, but she declines and starts talking about how tobacco is bad for your lungs and teeth, actually.

Steve can only look as Eddie lights both of the cigarettes at the same time and offers one to him. He takes it, their fingers brushing and sending electricity all through Steve’s body, their eyes fixed on each other.

“Okay, this is too much, I’m going inside.” Robin says, both boys turn to her. There is a beat of silence, and Steve realises she was waiting for one of them to say something, but they are both too late. “Your friend Chrissy was at the bar, right? I’ll tell her to get me a drink, you boys just… do whatever, no rush. Just- be careful or whatever.”

They stare at the door until it closes, the bang the one thing that makes Steve snap back towards Eddie. The boy is taking a drag of his cigarette and Steve mirrors him.

“Sorry, I just-“ Eddie starts. He is flicking the barely there ash. Steve can guess he needed something to do with his hands more than a real smoke. “Part of my brain is still trying to keep up with the fact that you are actually here and real and not a creation of my imagination.”

“Why? You fantasize about me that much?”

“Oh, you have no idea sweetheart,” Eddie answers with a sly smile.

Fuck. Hearing that directly from Eddie, looking at his face while he says it with no phone screen separating them is making the metre between them feel unbearable.

“You know what they say, sometimes you need to touch to believe.”

Eddie chuckles. “I’m not sure that’s right.”

But he still takes a step forward and the next thing Steve knows is that Eddie has a hand cupping his face and their lips are squeezed together in a messy kiss. Steve barely has time to answer to the kiss, drop the cigarette and grab Eddie back before the guy is pushing away and putting a hand up between them.

“Sorry, I should have- very real by the way.” Eddie says, punctuating the last part with a wave of his hand. “Great advice there, I-“

He can’t say more, because now it’s Steve pulling him closer into a kiss. There is no interruption now so the kiss goes on, and on, and Steve makes Eddie open his mouth to kiss him deeper, pulls him closer to him. This is everything he had hoped for and more. Eddie matches him beat to beat.

They get lost into it, until some voices come from their side, and Eddie pushes him away against Steve’s protests. He doesn’t allow him to go too far, one of his hands holding Eddie’s face and the other his hip close to his.

“You want to wake up to some scandalous headlines?” Eddie asks with a smile.

“Maybe they will get the memo if they find me on my knees for a guy.”

“Getting ahead of ourselves here, Steve,” Eddie says, but Steve sees how his eyes darken.

“Sorry, did you have better plans for tonight?”

Eddie shakes his head, “nothing that could beat corrupting the golden boy.”

“You think our friends will forgive us if we just leave?”

“Jesus, I really hope they do, I’m not stepping back inside and getting distracted.”

Steve laughs and kisses Eddie again, just a short press of lips. “Lead the way then.”

****

Steve.hrrgtn

New instagram story

Image id: a group playing on a stage, the lights surround them, a sea of hands holding drinks and heads below. There is a caption on it

“The gig of the century”

@/corrodedcoffin

ClubHarrington: Steve Harrington just shared an Instagram story from a metal concert in Chicago.

        MrsHarrington: since when does steve like metal??

        Stevenation: omg!!! He’s in my city Whats he doing here!!!

        Stebitch: guys a friend of mine went to the concert and told me that the guitarist said he was taking groupie applications and started describing Steve when he listed the requirements

               + What???? That’s just creepy, I hope Steve gets away from that fast

               + omg!! Did anyone record it?? I need the video! I need to see Steve’s reaction to that!!

Stebitch: they are a very small band so no one was recording but I swear he did

               + do you guys think they are…. You know….

                       - Your mind

****

Steve walks back into the room with two glasses of water and kicks the door closed behind him. Eddie is still naked on the bed -Steve hasn’t put any clothes back on himself- and he is lying on his side, snickering while he looks at his phone. Steve stops, takes a second to admire Eddie’s naked back.

Steve’s phone pings on the nightstand. There’s only one person he has his sound on for.

“Did you seriously just send a meme to me?”

Eddie turns his face to look at him, “sorry, force of habit.”

Steve lets out a sigh and puts the glasses down on the nightstand. He gets on the bed and hugs Eddie from behind, hooking his chin on Eddie’s shoulder.

“Come on, show me what’s so funny you had to send me now.”

Eddie scrolls back up.

tag list (sorry if I missed someone): @steddiefication @tailsfromthecrypt @orionchildofhades @coralineinwonderland @theohohmoment @what-if-a-dragon @juiceicicles @margaglitterdeath @sofadofax @estrellami-1 @dreamercec @bisexual-chaos-demon99 @queenie-ofthe-void @scoops-aboy86 @me-ig7 @efratfangirl @what-if-a-dragon @juiceicicles @margaglitterdeath @sofadofax  @estrellami-1 @dreamercec @bisexual-chaos-demon99  @queenie-ofthe-void @scoops-aboy86 @me-ig7 @efratfangirl @live-laugh-love-dietrich @yesdangerpls @nerdyglassescheeseychick @agree2disagre-kicks @fuzzyduxk @saramelaniemoon @disrespectedgoatman @aol19 @yikes-a-bee @adealwithher @coralineinwonderland @sanctumdemunson @comedictragedy @marklee-blackmore @karakro @yusukesmomjeans @lumoschildextra @pondypip @xtraordinarally @bridget-malfoy-stilinski-hale @child-of-cthulhu @shrimply-a-menace @ravenfrog

[salem-s]

02 ── PLAYING THE PART UNDER THE SICILIAN SUN (18+) ── RAFE CAMERON

SYNOPSIS when your image-obsessed mother catches you and Rafe Cameron ─ your friends with benefits ─ in a compromising situation, you must lie and say you're dating. It spirals out of control when your mother invites him to your cousin's upcoming wedding in Italy, and spirals even further when he says yes. SERIES MASTERLIST | NEXT PART

WARNINGS language, fingering, oral sex (fem receiving). 18+ mdni. prooooobably not perfect italian translations.

WORD COUNT 7.5k. need to learn how to reel it in.

SONGS OF THE CHAPTER julia by sza and yuck by charli xcx

Of fucking course Rafe manages to get a first class seat on the flight.

You want to slap that stupid smirk off his face for the umpteenth time when he boards before you, especially when he sends you a farewell wink and over-exaggerated kiss.

Rafe's parting words echo in your head over and over again like a tortuous mantra: “Can’t wait to date you, baby.”

You tap your foot impatiently as you wait for your boarding class to get called, cursing at yourself for your bruising pride when refusing your family’s money when buying the ticket. You absolutely hate using their money, their trust funds, their anything since you barely talk to them, much less feel entitled to their money.

There’s also the thought of wanting as little contact as possible, so the idea of your parents, more so your mother, having some sort of leverage over you makes you a little nauseous. 

Whatever. Basic economy will do. Regardless of the seat, you will get from point A to point B. 

Although that nonchalant philosophy nearly goes out the window as you pass his seat as you board towards the back, Rafe's stupid smirk making your blood boil. The bastard is already strapped in with that stupid night mask settled over his forehead. 

Priiiiiick, you think as you sit in the middle seat between a priest and a middle aged man. 

The flight itself isn’t bad. You don't manage to sleep much due to the overwhelming anxiety of your impulsive decision, and constantly teeter back and forth on the topic of if bringing Rafe along was a mistake. 

The pros are that he’ll help give your mother a topic to brag about to your family and friends since she claims everything else in your life is boring and not meaningful enough to boast about.

Plus, you might even get a little action if you're lucky.

The con is that it’s Rafe Cameron: the notoriously known prick prince of your campus. The guy who gets under your nerves with every opportunity that presents itself, the guy who will fuck anything with a vagina and flirt with a brick wall if it meant getting his dick wet, the guy who can put on a charming facade and woo you to where the horizon meets the sea without feeling a shred of likings towards you. 

No, you need to realize. No real liking.

He likes your pussy and your mouth when it doesn’t speak. He doesn’t do relationships. He doesn’t have girlfriends. He rarely fucks the same person twice, you being an exception due to your arrangement, and even then it’s a stretch.

It gnaws at your heart, knowing the next week is going to play with you mentally and emotionally in two different directions.

Truthfully, the only reason you continue sleeping with him is that you knows for certain he’s never going to want to take that next step with you.

Rafe’s made it perfectly clear it’s purely casual, and you agreed wholeheartedly (at first). Despite the toll it takes, you know better. You know that it’ll never be more than sex because of his track record, because relationships are a dying breed when it comes to the two of you, because the thought of being someone’s first choice makes you sick to your stomach. 

You groan when the plane lands with a jerk, lulling you from a sleep that you just fell into. 

It doesn’t take long for you to meet Rafe as he waits by the gate, looking more refreshed than ever. You conclude you probably look like you've been hit by a truck, the only thing keeping you awake and motivated is that you're seeing your nonna soon. 

Rafe has way too much energy while you stand in customs, talking your ear off about whatever nonsense movies he watched on the way here, relishing on how relaxed and well-rested he feels after all that time. The words go in one ear and out the other, as you can solely focus on standing on your own two feet right now.

God, you've never wanted to hit someone more in your life than you do right now, especially because he has the audacity to look good with his long hair falling over his bright eyes. 

It isn’t until they get in the taxi that you feel somewhat relaxed. 

Sure, it’s the smallest sports car you've ever seen in your life, your thigh and shoulder are smushed against Rafe’s in the backseat. It’s comical how he looks cartoonish the way his long legs are folded and how his head nearly hits the roof of the car, but you don't have the energy to laugh or even tease him on his grumpy facial expression.

“Via di dodici Ardoino, per favore,” you mumble to the driver as you close your eyes, feeling the car move a few seconds later.

You miss the incredulous look that Rafe gives you when you speak Italian so effortlessly, his dick twitching immediately – to his utter dismay. But he barely has the chance to comment on it before you're shutting your eyes and down for the count.

While you sleep, Rafe pulls his head out of the gutter to admire the Sicilian scenery as you drive through the countryside. It’s beautiful: the vast mountains, colorful houses, acres of farmland. It seems nice. Quiet. Quaint. The coast is to his right, the country on his left. He toggles looking at both, a small smile making its way to his lips without it meaning to. Rafe meant it when he said that he always wanted to visit Italy. 

The driver tries making small talk with him a few times, but Rafe sheepishly nods, not understanding the language in the slightest. He wishes you were awake to translate for him, but decided against waking you up due to how tired you looked after the flight, probably getting no sleep in whatever economy seat you were sitting in.

There’s a slight twinge of guilt in his chest when he thinks of you trying to get comfortable in the small seat, sitting thigh to thigh with strangers, neck straining and tossing and turning in frustration. 

Rafe then curses at himself. He should’ve given his seat to you. Why didn’t he switch?

Shit. He’s already doing horrible as a boyfriend. 

But his worries slowly start to fizzle out when you unconsciously rest your head on his shoulder, drooling ever so slightly onto his t-shirt and nuzzling into his side. 

He can’t help but laugh at the irony of shooting him death glares all day and practically cursing his bloodline with every pointed look you threw at him, but ultimately ending up seeking refuge in him. There’s a small swell of pride in his chest, the notion of you needing him. Even if you don't realize it. 

The opportunity is too good to pass up. Rafe takes a selfie with you, setting the incriminating photo as your contact picture, trying to ignore the stupid grin that etches on his face when he looks at it over and over again.

He tries to snap his mind out of it, taking pictures of the scenery, but his focus always reverts back to you, making sure you're still sleeping when he moves too quickly or if there’s a bump in the road that has him hitting his head on the roof of the car. 

The car slows at a countryside villa with a low stone perimeter fence, just on the edge of a cliff leading to the ocean. Rafe doesn’t have time to stop and admire as he notices the Euro meter displaying the charge of the ride, and he straightens his posture at his first task as a boyfriend: paying for all things under the sun for you. 

He carefully digs his wallet out of his pocket, stacked with Euros that he got in exchange at the airport before you could catch him and interrogate. He pays the driver the set amount, making sure he pockets it before shrugging his shoulder to coax you from your beauty sleep, his palm gently resting on your cheek.

You snap awake, blinking the bleariness out of your eyes as you take in your surroundings: the driver already out of the car and unloading bags from the drunk, your nonna’s cottage in sight.

And Rafe Cameron staring down at you.

“Hi, baby,” he says gently. “Sleep well?”

You hum and nod wordlessly. You stretch and frown at the wet spot on his sleeve. 

Rafe follows your gaze and raises a brow. “You drool when you sleep.”

“I do not,” you grumble, fishing around for your purse, ignoring his stupid grin and stupid laugh and stupid hair that falls right over his eyes. “That was there before we got in the car.”

“Hmm,” he hums unconvincingly. “Must’ve missed that.”

Sleepily, you grab your bag, sticking your hand in to grab your wallet but when you pull it out, Rafe opens the door with one hand and covers yours with the other one and squeezes once, twice, and the motion makes you dizzy all over again. 

“I already got it. Let’s go.”

Your mind spins. “Wh–?”

Rafe tugs on your arm to coax you out of the car, and he sighs in relief being able to stretch his legs. “I paid already.”

“What? Why?”

He shrugs as he watches you get out of the car slowly, like a baby deer trying to find its footing. “Boyfriend tax.”

You roll your eyes and shove him with little to no strength at all to where he doesn’t even budge, ignoring the way your heart lurches at the thought of him casually putting himself in the role he appointed himself to. The driver sets the remainder of the bags on the side of the taxi, and you offer a soft grazie to him before he drives away, kicking up some dirt from the path that has you waving your hand in front of your face. 

Rafe takes a long look at the house, nodding in approval. “This is real nice. Cozy.”

A snort escapes your lips. “What were you expecting? A barnyard?”

You're no stranger to the fact that Rafe comes from money. Heaps of it, even. He’s the type of rich that isn’t voiced, but rather shown through his demeanor, like how he wears a ratty old graphic t-shirt and jeans to class along with his hundred thousand dollar watch, or how he casually replaced your computer after you told him once that the sound stopped working, or how he always seems to smell nice even after he comes home from parties.

Maybe Rafe’s never stayed in a place like this, somewhere cozy, as he describes it, instead of a giant mansion with a yacht waiting in the water. Something tells you that his life before college was far from quaint or homey based on the content expression on his face as he takes in the scenery around him.  

“An old building, I guess.” Rafe looks down at you. “Like in The Godfather when Michael flees to Sicily.”

And there it is. You roll your eyes. Of course he’d find a way to bring that movie up. 

“You’re never beating the performative film-bro allegations, Cameron.”

You grab your bags and start hauling them towards the house, ignoring his spluttering attempts to defend himself. He follows suit, wishing he could take the bags from you and carry his own at the same time. 

As you trek on the cobblestone path, Rafe takes in his surroundings: the quaint cottage with a fenced in garden, two metal garden chairs planted next to a matching circle table, a tabby-cat lazily perched on the stone fence, a shallow rectangular pool that can’t be longer than fifteen feet filled with natural leaves and stones.

He sighs. He could die here peacefully in a place like this, somewhere remote yet warm and inviting. 

A dog barking breaks him from his thoughts as a shetland-sheepdog barrels out of the house and runs up to you and greets you like an old friend. You crouch down and swallow up the attention, scratching the shaggy brown fur. 

“Ticino!” you coo. “Che bellino!”

The dog, Ticino, eventually makes his way to Rafe, sniffing him cautiously and inspecting the stranger. Once he decides that Rafe isn’t a threat, he allows Rafe to pet him all over. His hands run over the smooth coat, scratching his back, head, ears, and eventually belly when Ticino collapses on his side, throwing a leg in the air as Rafe rubs his tummy with utter enthusiasm. 

He nearly sighs in relief at the set-up, as he’s always wanted a dog or generally any animal ever since he was a kid. His father never allowed amenities such as pets, claiming they tainted their family home’s appearance, and would ultimately end up with him paying the staff more to clean up after it (despite Rafe’s constant promises that he’d take care of it).

Rafe figures he can settle, only if it means having one for a few days.

“Ah, lui ha incontrato il tuo ragazzo, sí?” (He met your boyfriend, yeah?)

The unfamilar voice causes Rafe to pick his head up, meeting the gaze of your nonna standing in the dark blue doorway, a crayon-sun yellow apron loosely tied around her waist as a pair of reading glasses flatten the unruly grey curls on top of her head. Her arms are folded, studying the scene in front of her.

The only factor that reassures Rafe’s nerves is the tiny smile seeping onto her lips, more so as she looks at you approaching her. 

“Penso che Ticino avrà un nuovo amico,” you sheepishly respond, giving your nonna a warm hug, an embrace that feels genuine. (I think Ticino will have a new friend)

Something in Rafe’s chest tightens, a phantom ache in his heart.

He doesn’t remember the last time he hugged someone in his family like that – or anyone, for that matter – as the Camerons aren’t big on public displays of affection (at least towards Rafe, that is). He watches from the outside peering in.

Despite the unfamiliar feeling bubbling in his stomach, Rafe swallows the lump in his throat and manages to stand and offer a friendly smile. Ticino gets back up on his feet and looks up to Rafe, anticipating more pets. 

The older woman releases from the much needed hug and you step aside as Rafe approaches the door cautiously. 

“Uh, nonna, questo è Rafe.” You turn to Rafe. “Rafe, this is my nonna, Lorenza.”

Rafe offers the same polite handshake extension he offered Paulette back in the tiny dorm room. But your nonna takes one look at his hand, rolling her eyes in you-like bravado and pulls him in for a hug, one with the same ferocity as she had for her faux grandchild.

He chuckles nervously at the tight – but seemingly genuine – squeeze, reciprocating the quick hug with a wink towards you, who watches the whole thing with an uneasy smile as if your nonna is going to see through the whole facade. 

Then Lorenza releases him, hands gripping his biceps as she inspects him head to toe. “Lui è troppo magro. Ha bisgno mangiare,” she mutters, flickering her gaze to you as you snort unattractively at the words. 

“Basta.”

You wave her off as Rafe chuckles nervously again, fully aware you're talking about him in a language he doesn’t understand. 

He suddenly feels stupid. Like, really stupid. 

Because he should’ve studied some common phrases or words that wouldn’t make him feel like such an idiot. Rafe didn’t factor in the whole wait, your grandmother-like-figure doesn’t speak English situation when thinking about the itinerary of the trip.

After all, the wedding is the main event of the mini vacation. This is just the calm before the storm, the prelude.

Rafe nearly slaps himself at the idiocy of his lack of planning, worried that his inadequate knowledge will score him less points with the grandmother, the person whose opinion matters most to you.

Oh, god. He’s already fucking up. 

Lorenza steps inside the house, beckoning you to follow. “Vieni. Ho fatto un'insalata." (Come. I made a salad)

She disappears in the house and Ticino follows her, leaving the two of you in the warm breeze as you grab your bag, a small smile creeping up on your lips as Rafe is sure his is dripping in anxiety. 

“Uh, what did she…what did she say about me?”

You stand in the doorway, looking him up and down. He isn't sure if you purposefully wait a few moments to respond to prolong his nerves. Given the shit-eating smirk on your face, he assumes this is your own sweet little way of messing with him.

“She said you’re too skinny. You realize she’s gonna try and fatten you up before we leave, right?”

Phew. He can work with that. 

Even though he has no idea what she’s saying without your translation, Rafe decides he really likes Lorenza. Obsessed, even.

Obsessed in the way he wants a miniature version of her to keep in his pocket as constant amusement in this grim world. She’s bright, witty, and effortlessly way cooler than what he expects. Her all-yellow kitchen is her safe space, and he laughs out loud when she tells him – or rather when she tells you who proceeds to tell him – that she loves her kitchen, only partially for the cooking, but mainly for the cleaning and maintenance of it all.

Something about the domesticity of it makes his chest warm, especially with the way you're chuckling along with him.

It’s nice to see you unguarded, and Rafe can’t help but shoot teasing glances every time you show an ounce of niceness towards him. 

You weren't wrong about Lorenza making him do all sorts of chores around the house. He’s already lifted heavy pots and moved them to different cabinets, reached a spot on the top shelf that she couldn’t quite get with her paintbrush, rearranged some furniture and plucked two tomatoes from her garden outside (and he doesn’t even complain about the worm he saw slithering in the dirt).

His chest pathetically swarms with pride when he completes another task for Lorenza, happy to be of service, and also privy to the way you watch him and translate his next assignment. 

By the time he feels like he can sit down, the sun is already setting. 

You help Lorenza with the cooking, jabbing at him in both English and Italian that he should be nowhere near a kitchen setting after he nearly set their friends’ house on fire (neglectfully forgetting to add water to instant noodles), as he sits at the kitchen table and watches you. 

There’s a moment where you struggle to open a jar and Rafe instantly shoots up from his seat, placing his hand on the small of your back as if to coax you into giving it to him.

The touch lingered longer than he meant it to, opening the jar with ease and handing it back to you with a focused furrowed brow. You nearly teased him with how quickly he jumped out of his seat, but your words died in your throat when your nonna shoots you a knowing smile, a genuine one. 

That shut you right up. 

Rafe shamefully watches you, how you chop the fruit, pound down the chicken, speak so eloquently that he tries to listen to every syllable. You maneuver around the kitchen with ease, you and Lorenza talking a mile a minute as Ticino sits right next to his chair, laying his head in Rafe’s lap as Rafe strokes his forehead absentmindedly.

He doesn’t even break his stare when the cat, Po, jumps on his lap too, sitting upright as if to claim his stake with the new guest. The aroma of dinner has his stomach rumbling and by the way it’s looking, it’s ready soon.

Rafe helps set the table and tries to make it look pretty the only way he knows how, trying to recall how the chefs at his house make the dinner table look presentable. He does nowhere near the same level of pretty, but Lorenza thanks him gratefully nonetheless. She swats his hand away as he tries to get up and serve himself, but she points at the chair, insisting he sits down, as she fills his plate up with the primo piatti, pasta with homemade pesto sauce.

You sit to his left, filling up the wine glasses with a light white as he fights the urge to push a stray piece of hair behind your ear. 

Once Lorenza sits down, she sighs in mock exhaustion and grins. “Buon appetito, ragazzi.” She begins to dive in and so do you, so he takes that as the hint to start eating.

Sitting here at the small wooden table with barked laughter and a warm feeling in his chest, Rafe tries to remember the last time he sat down with his family and had dinner that didn’t result in a screaming match.

He keeps tensing, waiting for something to happen. But it never comes.

Despite there only being three people, it’s the most lively and comfortable he’s ever felt at a meal. It doesn’t even feel like an interrogation when Lorenza spews question after question, to which you translate, and Rafe answers and asks his own questions, and so on. 

She asks about his life: what he’s studying, where he’s from, what movies he likes (Lorenza’s a big film lover like him which warranted a giant tangent that he almost feels bad for, making you roll your eyes), and eventually starts asking about your relationship, or at least that what he assumes she asks about given sharp hitch of your breath and your nonna's darting gaze between the two of you.

Rafe doesn’t understand, but the way you shift in your seat and brush off the question with a light chuckle all but confirms his suspicions. Lorenza side-eyes you, dropping the topic. 

You know you'll have to tell your nonna about your relationship at one point or another, but you figure you'll brush it off for now in order to get the story straight for later. 

After two giant plates of pasta, three pieces of chicken, and a salad, Rafe is spent. He hasn’t been this graciously fed in what feels like forever, yearning to lay down for a little while to catch his breath.

He politely tries to help Lorenza clean, but again she waves him off and he’s selfishly a little grateful for that. She also waves you off, gesturing to your unpacked bags loitering in the doorway and nodding towards the bedrooms at the end of the hall. 

Before you walk away, Rafe gently grabs your forearm.

“Um, how do I say thank you?” he sheepishly asks. “You know, for dinner.”

Your lips curl into a pretty smile, a genuine one. It’s quickly replaced with a teasing one and he hates how the tips of his ears turn pink. “What? Didn’t take your Duolingo lessons?”

Rafe bites his lip, looking away from you bashfully. “Shut up. What is it?”

Recognizing the soft gaze in his eyes, your heart skips a beat.

How dare he look so pretty right now?

Then, you tell him. “Grazie per il cibo.”

“Grazie per il cibo,” he repeats slowly, feeling a bit stupid at his over-Americanized pronunciation but turning around to face Lorenza nonetheless. He clears his throat, causing her to pause her dish-washing. “Uh, grazie per il cibo.”

Lorenza beams. “Bravo, Rafe. Adesso, vai, vai,” she waves them out of the kitchen.

You grab his forearm. “C’mon. I’ll show you the room.”

You two exit the kitchen and grab your bags, waiting until Lorenza’s out of earshot even though she won’t understand anyway, ducking low to ghost over the shell of your ear.

“One bed, I hope.”

He’s met with a swift backhand slap against his chest but it only riles him up further, the thought of sharing a bed with you makes him nearly jump in excitement, the cherry on top of the whole trip. 

You two enter the room and you flick on the lights, stifling a chuckle as you turn around to gauge Rafe’s reaction, whose cheeky smirk falls into confusion. 

Two twin beds. 

On opposite sides of the room. 

You full on belly laugh at the stupid pout on his face, moving your bags into the room and claiming the bed on the left side as he remains unmoved from his spot in the doorway. His gaze alternates between the two beds, dumbfounded at the ridiculous amount of space between you.

He grumbles something incoherent as he trudges over to the other twin bed that is so small it’ll probably have his ankles poking over the edge when he sleeps. 

“This is worse than separate rooms,” Rafe practically whines.

You roll your eyes, lounging on the twin. “You’re such a baby. Not everyone has the luxury of a king mattress with Egyptian cotton.”

Rafe frowns, his grumpy facade simmering into confusion and slight irritation.

Is that what you think he’s bitching and moaning about? 

He pushes the thought down.

“Baby, I don’t care if I sleep on the floor or strung upside down like a bat. I hate that there’s this,” he gestures between the two beds, “much space between us. How am I supposed to be able to sleep knowing you’re right there?”

“Uh, I don’t know, maybe start by having an ounce of self control for your fake girlfriend?”

He rolls his eyes. “Now is not the time for jokes. I’m in mourning.”

You sit up, faux concern. “Of what? My vagina?”

Rafe shakes his head with a scoff of disbelief as you bark out a laugh. He hates the way he almost stomps his foot like a toddler. 

“Whatever,” he mumbles, running a hand through his hair. “I’m gonna shower. Do I have to do that separately, too?”

“Yes, you do.” You stand, crossing the room to end up right in front of him. The centimeters between your bodies is palpable, and these rare moments where he's undoubtedly flustered only fuels your playfulness. “Sometimes, boyfriends need to suck it up.”

Oh, he hates the way the tips of his ears turn pink.

That word, the b-word, sends a foreign chill down his spine as he squirms away from you, grabbing the pajamas at the top of his bag and moving towards the door.

It’s okay when he uses the word, but when you use it… 

Rafe pauses in the doorway, looking back to see the smug look on your face that has him automatically rolling his eyes, irritation blooming. He grumbles something incoherent and heads off to the bathroom, ignoring the way your laughter echoes in the hallway and can even be heard after he shuts the door.

When he exits the much needed shower, you aren't in the bedroom. 

Rafe dries his hair messily with the towel as he throws it on his bed, leaving the bedroom in his thin pajama pants and a plain white t-shirt to search around the cottage. He enters the living room and sees no one, then peeks into the kitchen and sees no one. But he pauses, hearing muffled laughter beyond the kitchen.

Moving quietly, he gently pats Po's head, who sits on the kitchen table as he looks towards the yard. Rafe follows the cat’s gaze, settling on you and Lorenza sitting at the garden table, each nursing a half-smoked cigarette. The moonlight behind you casts a pearly hue on the ocean as your faces are lit up by the dim kitchen light.

You laugh at something Lorenza says, and he swallows the bile of emotion in his throat at the sound. 

He almost leaves to go back into the bedroom, to give you some time to catch up, but there’s nothing subtle about his six foot something stature as Lorenza notices him standing in the kitchen and waves him over with an exaggerated hand, cigarette ash spewing on the cobblestone.

You follow your nonna’s gaze and settle on him, fresh out of the shower in a white tee that snugs his biceps a little too well. 

Jesus. You physically have to look away as Rafe approaches. But as he gets closer, you frown when Lorenza stands, ashing her cigarette in the tray as the light slowly dies.

“Vado a letto,” Lorenza announces, flicking her gaze between the two of you with a knowing smirk. You open your mouth to protest but your nonna gestures for Rafe to sit down and take her seat. “Ecco. Buona notte, ragazzi.” (I’m going to bed. | Here, goodnight guys.)

You watch your nonna saunter into the house, Ticino following close on her tail as Po joins them as they all head to the master bedroom. 

There’s a calm quiet between you as Rafe plucks the cigarette out between your fingers and brings it to his lips for a long drag.

You find the strength to face him, and much to your dismay he’s already looking at you as he blows the smoke out, gaze intently focused on you with a sort of…

Softness? 

Suddenly, you squirm, the whole situation feeling weirdly intimate as you hastily grab the cigarette back from him. 

“Leech,” you mutter, taking a drag. 

Rafe snorts, putting his elbows on the table and leaning closer to you. “So? What’s Lorenza’s verdict?”

“Hmm?”

“Does she approve?” he teases, but there’s a small part of him that’s bleeding anxiety at the thought of not being liked. Rafe tries not to let it show and if you can see right through his facade, he can’t tell. “Do I need to pick the couch up with one arm to prove it?”

You take a long, painful drag, each second feeling like steel in his chest. “She didn’t say she doesn’t like you.”

“That’s a horrible way to phrase it. This is detrimentally important.”

“Jesus, relax.” Another drag. Rafe steals the cigarette from you, and you let him. “What’s the big deal?”

“Baby, I’m supposed to be your loving, doting boyfriend. I’m losing my mind here.”

You roll your eyes at the pet name. “She likes you, alright?” God, you want to smack the giant grin that spreads across his face. “Stop grinning.”

“I’m not grinning,” Rafe mumbles, still grinning. 

You hum low in your throat, forcing yourself to look away from his piercing blue eyes and charming smile that creates a fuzzy feeling in your chest.

Instead, you settle your gaze on the horizon, looking to where the moonlight meets the sea and honing your focus to try and hear the distant waves crashing.

Taking another long drag, you ignore the feeling of his intense stare burning in your peripheral.

“I told nonna that we’re going to the beach tomorrow,” you say after a few minutes of silence. “Supposed to be nice and sunny.”

“Oh? Didn’t think to ask me?”

“I want to lay in the sun. You’re free to stay here and do laundry with nonna, though.”

Rafe snorts. “On second thought, the beach sounds great.”

One of his arms dips under the table to absentmindedly run the pad of this thumb over your kneecap. You nearly jolt from the contact.

Despite it, you hums to appear indifferent, offering him the roach of the cigarette that no one wants. He rolls his eyes but takes it anyway.

“It’s only a twenty minute walk. Figured we could go in the morning, bring some lunch, then come back in the afternoon. What do you think?” 

Finally gathering the courage, you turn your head to look at him, a soft expression on his face as if he’s soaking in the moment before you find something to jab about to him. His hand still rests on your knee and you have every urge to nudge it off, because you don't like how you have the urge to brush his damp locks away from his pretty eyes. 

No, you reel. Not pretty. Just normal eyes. Nothing more. 

“Sounds good, pretty.” His voice is saccharine. 

You tear your gaze away from his face to his hands, watching Rafe put out the cigarette in the ash tray with a lingering smile that has undertones of honey.

Suddenly, despite the fresh air, you're suffocating.

Nope.

This is too intimate right now. It’s all too much: his eyes, his voice, his hand still seeking refuge on your knee. 

Standing abruptly, his hand leaves your body as he looks up at you in adorned confusion. You really don't like this mushy-gushy voodoo in the air right now, because his gaze is far from teasing, from his normal playful, and instead emulating that of candor.

This whole thing is pretend, fake, faux for show. The person that you're putting the show on for isn’t even here, so there’s no reason to milk the part. All you both do is fuck and argue. Why aren’t you doing either? Why are you pretending to act like you can do anything outside of that?

“I’m gonna shower,” you say almost awkwardly, the sudden movement startling both of you. “Just, uh, lock the door behind you.”

“Wh–?”

You spin on your heel and leave him sitting at the table before he can retort, entering the kitchen and refusing to look back. 

You purposefully take an elongated shower, trying to rub off the grime from the plane and airport and the sweat from milling about in the AC-less cottage.

Additionally, you try to shake the foreign feeling in your chest, trying to decide if it’s from the jet lag or from a certain dirty blond playing his part a little too well. 

Before you know it, you're contemplating the latter so intensely that you don't know how long you've been standing under the water for.

And of course when you turn the water off you realize you didn’t bring any pajamas into the bathroom, just a measly towel that barely covers your ass.

You just pray that Rafe immediately fell asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow, or better yet, he’s still outside scratching his head about you leaving so abruptly. 

Poking your head into the hallway, you notice all the lights are all off and you nearly groan.

So, he’s definitely in the bedroom and definitely awake due to the lamp light radiating underneath the door. 

It’s fine. Totally fine.

Rafe’s seen you naked more times than you can count. It’s no big deal.

You open the bedroom door quietly, taking in the surroundings cautiously. Rafe lays on his back on the twin bed, ankles propped off the edge. One arm rests under his head as the other holds his phone against his shirtless tummy, lazily scrolling through social media without giving you as much as a courtesy glance.

Normally, you'd laugh at his large frame on the small bed, but that’ll bring attention to yourself.

Maybe later, you note. When I have clothes on.

You slip in the room and nearly sigh in relief when he doesn’t bother looking your way. He’s probably salty at your premature departure, because you know if Rafe hates one thing, it’s not getting what he wants. He’s a primadonna when it comes to holding grudges, and normally it drives you up the wall but now it’s a blessing in disguise. Maybe he won’t even look up at all. 

But the worst comes into fruition when you slightly lean over to unzip your suitcase on the bed, fingers brushing your pajamas when you hears a harsh breath hitch.

“Jesus, baby,” Rafe groans.

Fuck.

You spin around as if you were caught stealing, clutching your flimsy pajamas with one hand and desperately trying to keep the towel up with the other.

You take in the sight in front of you: Rafe’s arm is draped over his eyes as he sighs so gutturally deep that he almost sounds irritated, as if it's your fault he decides to look up your towel. His phone is long forgotten, thrown about somewhere on the bed as he pinches his eyes shut. 

Rafe takes his arm off his eyes and looks at you sinfully, scanning the water droplets on your chest and bare legs. He lazily lets his arm hang off the bed as he mentally undresses you with no shame at all.

You shift your weight between feet, feeling hot under his gaze. 

He likes to do this: watch and prolong the inevitable and get you all hot and bothered and ready for him. It's shameful how well he knows your body, how it reacts to him. He's calculating, precise, and uses his ever-growing knowledge to his advantage. Every. Damn. Time.

It feels like muscle memory when he silently nods towards his bed and your feet instantly pad over the tile towards his side, throwing your pajamas on the floor absentmindedly.

Rafe wastes no time bringing his arm to trickle up your thigh, skirting under the towel and catching a glimpse of your heat. He groans, pulling you onto him by the back of your thigh as you fall onto him, moving to straddle him.

Your hands flatten on his broad chest to stop yourself from collapsing fully onto him, as he wastes no time fisting the towel and ripping it off your body, letting it hit the floor with a damp thud.

Shamelessly, Rafe’s gaze travels to your bare chest, tummy, waist, lower and lower until he sighs gutturally again when you moves your hips against his to tease. 

His eyes roll back as his hands grip the curve of your ass, guiding your movements over his thin boxers. Rafe huffs as he moves to sit up, your chests bumping as he pulls you into a bruising kiss as one hand tangles in your hair.

“Fuckin’ tease,” he mumbles against your lips. In retaliation, you push your hips down further and his grip on your hair tightens. “Barely covering anything.”

“You’re the one who can’t control himself,” you retort, biting back a whine when he rubs over your clit. 

Oh, but he notices and hums in baritone. “Never can around you, baby. You drive me fucking crazy.”

Rafe can’t take this position anymore because he knows at this pace he might — no, will — get embarrassingly closer to release.

Pathetic, he thinks to himself as he pulls away and slides you off his lap, pinning you down as gracefully as a twin bed will allow and slotting himself between your legs. He ducks down and harshly sucks on that oh-so-sweet spot under your jaw, eliciting a saccharine sigh from you. At the same time, his broad hand skims over your tummy as he presses the heel of his hand against your clit. 

You moan, then slaps a hand over your mouth as Rafe chuckles huskily against your burning skin. God, you hate the way that the noise only edges you on further, the vibration against your throat sending a warm feeling to your core. Your other hand finds the nape of his neck, pulling at his hair harshly when you feel a finger enter you effortlessly. 

Rafe hums low. “So tight for me, baby. Feel so fucking nice.”

The sudden realization of where you are, what you're doing, and everything in between hits you with a ragged breath. 

“Shit,” you whisper breathlessly, mind reeling. “Rafe, we can’t.”

“Can’t?”

“Shouldn’t,” you retort, biting back another moan as he enters another finger, thumb pressed firmly on your clit. 

Rafe feels the way you're squirming as he peppers wet kisses down your torso, roughly sucking your breast in the way he knows you like.

The strangled moan you let out goes straight to his dick, painfully straining his boxers. He licks a greedy stripe over your bud, then moves to the other nipple, giving an equal amount of attention as he practically bruises the swell with how hard he’s sucking. A pang of possession fires in his chest, hoping his marks will litter your soft skin with the bikini you'll wear tomorrow.

You whine when his fingers leave your cunt, bringing his hand up to you mouth. You know the drill, taking his fingers in his mouth and sucking sultry. Meeting his gaze, his pupils are blown dark in arousal as he watches you with pouty parted lips. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs low before retracting his hand, moving lower and lower over your body before his lips ghost over the softness of your inner thighs. 

Rafe’s eyes nearly roll back at your glistening cunt ready for him as he places chaste kisses closer and closer to your heat.

Then, he scoffs, “Separate beds,” to himself before connecting with your sweet pussy, lapping up and plunging his tongue deep into his favorite meal. 

Your back arches, biting down on your knuckle to refrain from letting a shameless moan out, fingers tangled in Rafe’s hair and wiggling your hips to chase your high. But his forearm comes up and pins you down, rending you unable to buck up and ride his face. Which is torture, essentially, because his nose keeps hitting your clit and his tongue flattens and licks and sucks.

If there's one thing you've learned about Rafe through your time sleeping with him, is that he has no problem wasting away an afternoon between your thighs.

You've never understood it completely, but you never complained about it.

Why would you?

Despite how selfish he may look on the outside, it detrimentally contradicts how he really is in bed. There'd be times where you'd get a text in the middle of a lecture from him, simply the female head emoji with a question mark, and that'd be enough for you to understood what he wanted from you.

One afternoon, Rafe went down on you for hours. Literal hours. You remember seeing the sun, then seeing it set, and suddenly it was night. The only excuse he offered was that he had a bad day, and needed a distraction. Apparently, whereas other people used drugs or alcohol, he found solace between your thighs.

God, he’s your favorite eater by far. 

Especially now, even though it's embarrassingly frustrating to settle at the pace he's picked: unhurried. It's almost possessive the amount of time Rafe's spent going down on you, ruining every other experience you've ever had with another guy (not that you'd ever tell him that).

It always turns your mind to mush. You consider the cause: his mouth, and the effect: dumbification.

Rafe adds two fingers, looking up for a moment to see your head thrown back as you bite back moans, teeth pressing hard on your knuckle, and, fuck, if that doesn’t drive him insane. He pathetically ruts his hips against the bed in rhythm with his movements, feeling pent up from all the traveling and stolen glances and batted eyelashes he's been enduring all day.

His hot mouth is everywhere it needs to be. When he found your clit the first time you'd slept together, Rafe never missed it again. In fact, he could pin point it every time after that first try. A part of you would be flattered at how well he's mapped your body out by now, but most of the time it simply drives you crazy.

Like now.

You writhe particularly harshly and it makes Rafe groan into your cunt, knowing you're close by understanding your body language: shallow breaths, furrowed brows, incessant bucking of your hips that he has to physically flatten against the mattress. 

He prides himself on being able to tell.

“Rafe,” you moan breathlessly.

He’s never heard a prettier sound: his name falling from your lips.

“I know baby,” he mumbles against you. (He is too.) “Come for me.”

The vibration of his voice, his fingers, the scandalous situation in general has you reeling over the edge towards your high, biting down so harshly on your hand as you come embarrassingly fast.

And Rafe’s right there lapping it all up, groaning into your cunt as he, too, releases in his boxers. You ride and wriggle against his face as he no longer tries to hold you down, the heel of your foot meeting his spine as you pull him closer subconsciously. 

After a moment, your pants start to settle as you catch your breath, letting out a small whine of overstimulation when he continues lapping up every last drop lazily. And he takes his damn time, too, making sure nothing is wasted. Unashamed, one of his favorite places is between your thighs, so excuse him for wanting to prolong the moment.

Anything to get a rise out of you.

His warm breath fans on your core as Rafe places one last kiss against your cunt, adjusting out of his uncomfortable position on the twin bed and climbing up your body, nearly collapsing on top of you with little space you have. 

Your hand stays locked in his hair, smoothing down the parts you gripped harshly earlier, partly out of guilt but also out of endearment. His face nuzzles in the crook of your neck as he sighs in contentment, getting comfortable for the night as his brain slowly starts shutting off, feeling content and pleased and everything synonymous to that.

Despite your exhaustion, a small bubble of excitement rumbles in your tummy, eager to reciprocate. You move to get him off but he throws an arm and leg over your body, caging you in.

“No.”

You frown. “What about you?”

Rafe just hums tiredly against your jaw, shutting his eyes and holding you down to further render you immobile.

You try to wiggle out of his trap. “Rafe.”

“‘m fine,” he murmurs. 

The realization hits you. A teasing grin rises to your lips. 

“You–”

“Go to sleep.”

You bite your lip. “Awe, baby. I’m flattered.”

“Sweet girl,” he drones out in warning. 

“Want me to clean you up?”

“Shut up.”

You bring your fingers to his abs, tickling him. He doesn’t budge, and instead huffs in irritation. Regardless, you open your mouth to dig further, but he senses it and nudges you with his nose.

“Go to sleep,” he repeats.

With a quiet laugh, you relax against the pillow. You sigh with a subtle chuckle embedded into it, but the moment of solace comes and goes when you realize how incredibly naked you are.

Yikes. You picture your nonna walking into this scene right now with a gasp, and probably followed by an hour long interrogation and a lecture on the importance of safe sex, which is a conversation you're not ever ready to have with someone you consider family. 

The thought of it makes you shudder uncomfortably.

Attempting to move from underneath his hold again, Rafe refuses to let you get up and murmurs something incoherent. The sound is so fucking precious that you nearly stay, but the disaster of your mother walking in on you two settles fresh in your mind.

“I need to put my pajamas on,” you whisper to him, almost cooing. 

Rafe huffs and shakes his head like a toddler. 

“Dude, my nonna could walk in.”

“Let her.”

“No.”

“Stop talking. I’m trying to sleep.”

You try again to no avail. “They’re right there on the floor. You can reach them with your long ass arms.”

He hums. “I’m asleep.”

“Stop being a baby.”

“Sleeping.”

You groan. It’s like talking to a brick wall, sometimes. 

You eventually succeed in slithering out from underneath him, the boy falling asleep almost immediately when you started scratching his back gently.

As much as he loves to flaunt his tough boy act, he sure folds quickly when it comes to cuddling, or scratching, or massaging, and you usually like to use it to your advantage to get what you want. He melts in your touch, and usually with a low mmrrph, he’s down for the count. 

You quietly get out of bed, nearly bursting out laughing when you see his one foot hanging off the bed, the other hiked up across the sheets, snoozing contentedly. The urge to push the hair out of his eyes comes into fruition, and you do it light enough to be sure not to wake him.

A soft smile unintentionally comes when you study his figure. He looks younger when he sleeps, a stroke of innocence coating his features in a way you never see. A mild wave of disgust rises in your throat at the mushy-gushy thoughts, but you can’t help but swoon at his small furrowed brow and parted lips and how his chest heaves in and out deeply. 

It’s uncommon to see him at peace, because Rafe is usually bitching and moaning about something, or being obnoxiously arrogant, or sulking in his own brooding. 

You let out a breath you're unaware you're holding, snapping yourself out of the moment and picking up your pajamas off the floor and slipping them on. God forbid he woke up and saw you staring down at him like a righteous freak.

He'd never let you hear the end of it.

Tiptoeing back to his side, you frown as you notice he's completely taken up the bed, arrogantly spreading all over the twin mattress in Rafe Cameron fashion.

You wonder if he still thinks you're there, even in his sleep. Or maybe the added room is a relief, even to his unconscious self.

You shake the thought away. Girl, stand up.

The final decision is that there's definitely no room for you anymore, that you probably won’t be able to slip back in without waking him up. Or worse, not waking him up and being left to adjust and awkwardly settle back into your original position.

So you settle on your own cold bed with a pout, turning off the lamp and settling into the cold sheets.

Despite the loneliness, sleep finds you almost immediately.

© salem-s please do not copy or replicate work without permission. mdni.

note bit of a filler, just fyi lorenza isn't blood related (more of a family friend). also, a few people have asked me about a taglist and i actually have no idea how to do any of that??? if anyone could enlighten me that would be greatly appreciated!

[xiranjayzhao]

Iron Widow College AU

Zetian: Poli-sci major, gender studies minor. Goth. Worked at Arby's as a teenager but now findoms as a side hustle. Coordinator in the campus' Women's Centre and fighting a war with a rogue TERF faction trying to ban trans people from accessing it.

Yizhi: Chemistry major, pre-med. In a shady elite frat. Shockingly, not one of Zetian's paypigs. Known Zetian since highschool but they didn't go to the same one. They just met in the Arby's parking lot when she was taking a smoke break during the short time she picked up smoking (she has since quit).

Shimin: Literature and philosophy double major, 4.33 GPA. Becomes Yizhi's sugar baby when even working two jobs can't keep him afloat but doesn't realize he's a sugar baby because he thinks it's totally normal to get paid thousands of dollars to tutor Yizhi for like 20 minutes per week.

Wan'er: History major. Friends with more profs than fellow students. Completely different demeanour online vs offline. You'd never guess she's a Reddit moderator (of r/ShitLiberalsSay).

Taiping: Economics major, in a shady elite sorority. Goes clubbing every night and barely shows up to class yet still manages to ace her exams.

Qin Zheng: Poli-sci major. Shows up to class in a leather jacket and Che Guevera shirt. Regularly embarrasses Zetian when they have to do projects together. Is the guy with the megaphone at every protest. Has a definitive list of best places to hook up on campus.

Qieluo: Never went to college as a student but got a job in administration anyway. Tired of dealing with Qin Zheng's shenanigans.

Helan: Legacy admission nepo baby. In Yizhi's chemistry class. Will join protests but draws the line at property damage/occupation. Got roasted on r/ShitLiberalsSay.

[planetaryupscaled]

She Was Never Yours

Male OC x Sana

Tags: 16k, smut, cheating, gb, oral, creampie

The story is not ours, we alternate the original story to match our desired settings.

The densely packed car was brimming with excitement as Sana and her boyfriend, Minkyu, sped along the final stretch of highway to their destination. The couple had been looking forward to this camping trip for months, and they could barely contain themselves when the week-long break arrived. This was their third year together, and it had become somewhat of an annual tradition to drive out to their favorite secluded spot to celebrate.

“I can’t wait to just be there!” Minkyu exclaimed with enthusiasm.

“Yeah!” Sana agreed, adjusting the straps of her white crop top she had just purchased a few days ago and was eager to show her boyfriend. She knew how attractive she was—petite and toned, with perky, full breasts and a round ass that always had men stealing glances.

Sana rubbed her smooth thighs together in anticipation. She was looking forward to lots of hot sex this week, as the stresses of their busy lives had left little time for the deed lately.

The car's cabin began to vibrate violently as Minkyu drove off the paved road and into the rocky, open desert. After about a half-hour of off-roading, they'd arrive at the familiar rock formation known as “camp”.

“Woo! Finally!” Sana cheered as the long drive came to an end. She giggled as her small body bounced around in the seat, the rough terrain testing the limits of the vehicle's suspension. Her swelling breasts were barely supported by the small fabric, threatening to spill out from under her low-cut top.

The towering series of rocks finally came into view, and Minkyu’s heart sank. “Shit... I think someone’s in our spot,” he muttered, squinting to make out the distant objects at the base of the formation. As they got closer, it became clear that their ostensibly hidden, makeshift campsite was occupied. “Dammit,” Minkyu cursed under his breath.

“It’s okay, babe. We can find another spot nearby,” Sana tried to mask her disappointment to keep the situation positive.

“I mean... Look around. This is the only decent rock for miles, and having zero shade all day is not gonna be a good time...” He answered with frustration.

Sana peered at the barren desert surrounding them. Her boyfriend was right. Without the dependable stone shelter above them, the blaring sun would get old pretty fast.

“Let’s at least see what their plans are. Maybe they’re packing up to leave right now,” Minkyu suggested with newfound optimism.

As their car approached the site, the couple got a better look at the unwanted campers. A large trailer sat parked amongst four cars, and some tents, forming a semi-circle around a smoldering fire. Sana counted about half a dozen men scattered around the camp. The sound of obnoxiously loud music soon became apparent, indicating that the group of strangers was partying hard. The ground was littered with empty beer bottles, and two men were chanting at the top of their lungs as their friend chugged one and threw it into the pile.

A tall, shirtless guy was the first to notice the advancing vehicle, and he stood up from his chair to meet the outsiders at the edge of the site. Minkyu came to a stop, and rolled the passenger window down as the stranger approached Sana’s side of the car. She couldn't help but notice the man's lean, chiseled torso, which appeared to be in excellent shape. “Hey,” the hopeful boyfriend greeted.

“What’s up,” answered the man. He was clearly intoxicated, and leaned an elbow on the window, getting a little too close for comfort. His eyes widened at noticing Sana and fell to her swelling cleavage before he added, “What can I do for you, gorgeous?”

Sana, suddenly feeling quite exposed, blushed and quickly pulled her top up to conceal herself.

“We were hoping to camp here... How long you guys planning on staying?” Minkyu asked shortly, clearly annoyed that the stranger was openly ogling his girl.

“Oh... We just got here this morning. Probably sticking around for at least a few days,” the stranger answered, not taking his eyes off of Sana. He extended his hand to her and smiled, “I’m Yejun by the way. You?”

Sana hesitantly raised her hand to shake his, not wanting to be rude. “I’m Sana...” Yejun’s hand was warm and coarse, dwarfing her own. An awkward moment passed when she met his piercing eyes. “Oh! And this is my boyfriend, Minkyu.” Sana’s heart was racing. Something about the way this guy was staring at her made her feel like prey. An anxious tingle ran down her spine as she tried unsuccessfully to pull her hand away. There was an undeniable hint of excitement though, to feel so intensely desired.

“Good to meet you,” Yejun responded, finally releasing his grip. “Anyway, you guys are welcome to join us, I know the boys wouldn’t mind having a beauty like yourself hanging around the camp,” he chuckled.

“No! I mean... No, we were hoping to have some privacy,” Minkyu stammered.

Yejun laughed. “Hey, I get it,” he said, eyes running down Sana’s body suggestively. “You know... there's plenty of room. You could just camp on the other side, and you'd barely notice we were here.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Minkyu said hurriedly, abruptly rolling the window up and pressing the gas pedal. Yejun stumbled from his position and disappeared in a cloud of dust behind.

“What an asshole...” Minkyu muttered, fuming.

“Yeah...” Sana agreed.

“I can’t believe how openly he was checking you out right in front of me! Did you really need to have your tits halfway out?” Minkyu accused her.

“I didn’t do it on purpose!” She argued. “Don’t blame me!”

“I’m just saying guys are gonna get the wrong idea if you don’t stand up for yourself,” he added.

“Ugh... Whatever. Can we just figure out what we’re doing? It’s getting late,” Sana stated angrily, crossing her arms and looking out her window at the darkening landscape.

“I guess we better scope out the other side of the rocks... At least for tonight. We don’t really have any other options,” Minkyu suggested. A quiet tension was in the air between them. He knew he had fucked up. “Sana... I’m really sorry. I was just mad about the whole situation. Can we please pretend that didn’t happen and make the best of our time here?”

“I’ll think about it...” Sana muttered. Her boyfriend’s apology was genuine enough, but she needed a minute to cool down.

The couple had reached the far side of the rock formation and were delighted to find that it was an adequate spot to camp. The rowdy campers on the other side could not be seen at all, and there were plenty of spots that offered shade from the sun.

“I think this is gonna work out after all!” Minkyu announced with renewed cheer. He swung his door open and jogged to the bed of the car, rummaging for the cooler. After producing two ice-cold beers, he trotted over to Sana’s door and offered her one. “Please forgive me?”

Sana rolled her eyes and gave in. “Fine...” She took the drink and cracked it open, enjoying the bubbly beverage that felt so hard-earned. By the time they had both finished their first drink, the couple was back to smiling and hurried to unpack.

The sun was setting as they finished the job, and they enjoyed a second beer while admiring their cozy campsite. Minkyu started a fire while Sana opened the food they had prepared for a simple first-night meal. The pair sat near the flames and munched their dinner, drinking in the vast landscape around them. Sana was about to comment on how soothing the silence was, when they both heard it. The distant booming of the noisy neighbours’ music was even louder than before.

“Seriously?” She cringed at the disturbance.

“I know... But hey... Let’s just try to ignore it. I’m not gonna let them ruin this for us,” Minkyu encouraged.

“You’re right. By the look of it, they had been drinking all day and will probably pass out soon,”

“I hope so... Hey babe?” Minkyu, starting to feel the effects of the alcohol, looked at his girlfriend with remorse.

“Yeah?”

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry again for getting jealous earlier. The way that guy was looking at you just really triggered me... and it probably didn’t help that he looked like a damn model...”

“Aw, I forgive you,” Sana comforted, stroking her boyfriend’s back. “I guess I’m more used to that sort of thing. Guys are always behaving like that around me, especially drunk ones. But I’m a big girl; I can handle it. And I’m not going to lose control just cause some dumb hot guy flashes his abs at me. I love you.”

“I love you too. Thanks. Yeah... I mean it’s hard to fault him... You are sexy as fuck...”

“Thanks! Oh, that reminds me,” Sana said, rising to her feet. “I got a little surprise for you under these... Wanna see?” Minkyu nodded, and she began swaying her hips and slowly pulling her top over her head. The young girlfriend’s full, fleshy tits bounced into view, the tiny, triangular fabric of her bikini top barely covering her nipples. Her boyfriend gawked at her admiringly as she turned her back towards him and peeled off her shorts, revealing her perfectly round ass, fully exposed in her g-string.

“Damn... How did I get so lucky?” Minkyu murmured, staring longingly at the striking beauty in front of him, illuminated by the flickering light of the fire.

“You’re about to get even luckier. Put on a condom and get in that tent, Mister,” Sana ordered playfully. Her boyfriend wasted no time climbing into the small shelter and removing his clothes. Seconds after securing the protection on his modestly sized erection, she climbed on top of him.

The couple kissed each other deeply as Sana ground her hips along his shaft. She was wet, and couldn’t wait to feel his cock inside of her. She reached back and took hold of it, positioning his throbbing tip against her slick entrance. With one smooth push, her pussy enveloped the entire length of his cock, causing them both to moan.

Sana rode her boyfriend slowly at first, relishing the feel of his hardness while he gently held her hips and groaned in pleasure. “Oh fuck baby, that feels so… good,” Minkyu cooed.

“Mmm... Yesss...” She moaned back in encouragement, slowly picking up the pace. Her tits swayed as she pressed harder against his pelvis. She was already feeling an orgasm building, and closed her eyes in anticipation. Suddenly, Minkyu moaned loudly and frantically pushed her off of him. Feeling abruptly empty, Sana watched her boyfriend’s covered dick twitch wildly as he came into the condom. She wasn’t on the pill, so they were always very safe.

“Unnngh... Fuck... Sorry babe. Shit...” Minkyu cursed under his breath.

“It’s okay,” she tried to reassure him.

“It’s just... been a while, and you look so fucking hot. I couldn’t help it...”

“Don’t worry about it. We’ve got plenty of time,” said Sana, masking her disappointment. She was still incredibly horny, but wanted to save her release for the next round with him.

Minkyu yawned and rolled onto his side. “I think I’m gonna pass out. Good night.”

“Oh... Okay. Good night babe.” Sana snuggled up against him, her pussy aching with need. Before long, they had both drifted to sleep.

—

Sana was jolted awake by loud, popping, explosive sounds. After a moment of confusion, she gathered that the neighbouring campers were probably setting off fireworks or something. “Those fucking dicks,” she muttered. Sana looked over at her boyfriend, who was still fast asleep. “Minkyu?” She jostled him a bit, but decided to just let him be. He had always been a deep sleeper, even without alcohol, and nothing short of dumping a bucket of water on him would stir him at this point.

Sana tossed and turned in frustration for what felt like an hour. The day had not gone as planned, and now she couldn’t even rest up for tomorrow. She checked the time to find it was three in the morning. She decided to have a few more drinks, hoping it would be what she needed to get back to sleep, but it wasn’t enough to overcome the disturbing noises. Emboldened by her intoxicated state, Sana decided she was going to give them a piece of her mind.

Slipping back into her shorts and top, and grabbing a flashlight, she started an angry march towards the jerks’ camp. As she rounded the giant rock formation separating the two groups, she realized she didn’t really have a plan for what to do or say to them. She mainly needed to vent and let them know what inconsiderate assholes they were.

Eventually, the rowdy campers came into view. Sana’s eyebrows furrowed as she approached the crowd, stiff-armed. The men were yelling, laughing, and throwing some form of small explosives into their fire pit.

“HEY!” Sana shouted at the top of her lungs. No one heard her. She stepped closer and was about to scream at them again, when one of the guys caught sight of her and alerted his friends. The group finally quieted down, but the sudden silence was eerie. The young woman felt several pairs of eyes on her, accompanied by a lump in her throat, but she couldn’t back down now.

“What the FUCK, you guys!? It’s three in the FUCKING morning, and we’re trying to sleep over there!”

“So what, bitch?” One of the men yelled back. A few of them chuckled.

“How about a little fucking common courtesy!?” She added, red in the face.

“You wanna be courteous? Come suck my dick then!” Another guy taunted.

“Woah, woah. Hold up guys.” Sana recognized Yejun from earlier, who stepped to the front of the crowd to address her. “Sana, right? I’m sorry about all the noise, but give us a break. It’s the middle of nowhere, and we didn’t even know you guys decided to post up back there. Where’s your boyfriend anyway?” He stepped closer to her.

Sana felt deflated after being confronted with Yejun’s logic. “He’s um... back at camp.”

Yejun laughed. “So, he sends his hot girlfriend to fight his battles?”

“No! I couldn’t sleep and decided to come here myself,” she replied defensively.

“Well, you’re as tough as you are beautiful then,” he said through a smile. “We’ll quiet down for you. Our bad.” Sana silently cursed the bare-chested smooth talker for de-escalating the situation so quickly. She wanted to remain angry with them, but he turned out to be so much more reasonable than expected.

“Tell you what. Have a quick shot of this drink, and you'll be sleeping like a rock with your boyfriend in no time,” suggested Yejun, who produced two cups and handed one to her.

Sana didn’t make a habit of drink heavily, but she did indulge on occasion. Much to her own surprise, she impulsively reached for the cup and took a shot.

Yejun chuckled and playfully said, “Alright! Now we’re partying! Guess you’re not such a stuck-up bitch after all...”

“Just had kind of a rough day I guess,” Sana replied, cringing a bit at her corny defense, and unsure of why she cared what he thought of her in the first place.

“Troubles with your boy?” He inquired.

“No... I mean... Not really. Maybe a little...” She responded hesitantly. She could feel the effects of the drink swiftly creeping up on her.

“Let me guess. He got all jealous on account of the obvious sparks between us earlier,” he said confidently.

“Sparks!?” Sana laughed nervously. “What sparks? There weren’t any sparks...”

“Mmm, Hmm... Whatever you say pretty lady,” Yejun teased smugly.

She scoffed. “I don’t even know why we’re talking about any of this. And you should really stop calling me stuff like that.” She stated more sternly.

“Why? So your protective boyfriend doesn’t get his panties in a bunch?” He challenged, grinning.

“No! It’s just... rude.” Sana’s mind was getting cloudier by the second.

“Well, I think you like it.” His bright eyes narrowed and slowly ran down her body, as if he was looking for physical evidence to prove his claim.

“Pshh, whatever... Don’t look at me like that.” She hated how openly he sized her up as if she were a snack, and it made her blush.

“Like what? What’s wrong with admiring a flawless woman like yourself?” Yejun took another small step towards her.

“It’s just... kinda creepy.” Sana felt uncomfortable with his increased proximity, but something about his presence had her temporarily frozen in place.

“Creepy? You expect me to believe being showered in compliments by a guy like me doesn’t excite you a little?”

She hesitated, and then deflected, “And what sort of a guy are you?”

“The kind that women throw themselves at. Especially when they have a secret desire to be dominated,” he said, looking straight through her.

Sana’s spine tingled at his cocky explanation. “Well, you must be very proud of yourself.”

“I could say the same about you, marching over here in the middle of the night in that tight, little outfit. I think you know perfectly well what sort of effect that has on men.”

“Oh please. I didn’t wear this for your enjoyment.”

“Well, I’m enjoying it anyway...” Yejun openly gawked at her curves again, this time moving a hand to his crotch and adjusting his shorts. She couldn’t help but follow his movements with her eyes, spotting the outline of a massive bulge running down his inner thigh. It looked far too big to be a penis, and her curiosity held her gaze for a moment too long.

“I-I should really get back,” Sana said, snapping her eyes away and feeling her warm face grow flusher.

He smirked at her knowingly. “Why? Afraid you might not be able to resist me much longer?” Yejun reached out and lightly stroked her hair.

“You wish...” She murmured, grabbing his wrist and tossing it away from her.

“At least have a stay with me for a while?” Yejun asked.

“Um... No thanks. I gotta... go,” she stammered. She could tell she had mere minutes before she was fully cross faded.

“Well, if you ever feel like having your mind blown, you know where to find me.”

Sana turned and started walking back to her tent when Yejun called out, “Come back anytime, gorgeous! Nice ass by the way!”

“Perv!” She jabbed back as she stepped into the darkness and out of his view.

“What an arrogant asshole...” Sana murmured to herself as she carefully strolled through the still night of the desert alone. She’d become quite intoxicated, and a flood of thoughts were swirling around in her brain. On one hand, she felt proud of herself for successfully confronting the disorderly campers, but it didn’t exactly go as planned. Had she flirted with Yejun? She reassured herself that she was simply trying to smooth things over after basically erupting on them. Sana knew deep down that something about that interaction excited her. There was an unmistakable moistness in her pussy, but she chalked it up to the drugs and alcohol, on top of not being satisfied earlier.

Sana quietly climbed back into her tent and was relieved to find that her boyfriend had not moved an inch. She decided it was probably better not to mention her night-time venture to him, especially given his reaction earlier. “It’s not like I did anything wrong,” she convinced herself. After undressing and getting into her sleeping bag, the tingle of desire in her groin had not subsided. She might have given into it if not for the overwhelming urge to sleep that soon washed over her.

—

Sana woke a few hours later to the warm sun in her face, and her hips being lifted off of the ground. She was beyond groggy, and had a slight headache.

“Morning, babe,” Minkyu said softly as he positioned his girlfriend’s bare ass. “I woke up so horny. Care for some hot morning sex?”

“Mmm... Yes please,” she cooed lazily as he pressed his swollen cock head against her folds to prepare for entry.

“Damn, you’re already soaking wet!” Her boyfriend exclaimed as he thrust into her from behind.

“Ooh! Yess... Fuck me baby,” Sana encouraged.

“Mmpf! You feel so slippery and warm. God yes... Did you have a sexy dream about me or something?”

Sana’s eyes widened as his question connected the dots in her memory. She had in fact had a sexy dream, only it didn’t involve her boyfriend. She shuddered at the memory, and her nipples stiffened as her lust kicked into overdrive. “Ungh... Yes... Yes I did. Fuck me! Fuck me hard, please!”

Minkyu answered her pleas by thrusting more forcefully into her. “Like that?”

“Harder! Deeper! Fuuuuck!” She met his thrusts, slamming her round ass into him in an effort to get more. Her boyfriend was already fully bottoming out in her pussy, but he did his best to comply and fucked her as hard as he could manage.

Minkyu moaned as he watched his sweet girlfriend’s round ass knock into his hips; he knew he wouldn’t last much longer. Her tight cunt squeezed his dick so wonderfully, and her wild enthusiasm was driving him crazy. “Mmmpf! I’m gonna cum baby!”

“NO! DON’T STOP!” She demanded, desperate to get off.

He closed his eyes and tightened his muscles in an effort to prevent the inevitable, but couldn’t hold back and pulled out of her gripping tunnel just in time to jerk his cock with his fist, filling the condom with semen. Sana practically cried in frustration as her pleasure came to a halt.

“Oh my god babe, I don’t know what got into you, but that was so fucking hot. I couldn’t help it,” Minkyu explained.

In her sudden guilt from her inner thoughts, Sana tried not to make a big deal about it. “It’s... fine, Minkyu. You were fucking me so good too... We’ll get plenty of other opportunities.”

“Thanks babe. Yeah, we’re gonna be doing it all week long,” he said, leaning in and kissing her. “Anyway, I'm going for a jog. You in?”

Sana hardly gotten any sleep, and desperately needed to hydrate. “Uhhh... I’m pretty hungover. I think I’ll chill here for a while.”

“You sure?” Minkyu asked, pulling on his clothes eagerly.

“Yeah, yeah. Have fun babe. I’ll join you next time.”

“Okay then. Hope you feel better,” he said while exiting the tent.

The mostly naked Sana adjusted her tiny bikini, sliding the minuscule piece of fabric over her creamy pussy and concealing her hard nipples with the equally small triangles on her top. She sat up, gulped down a nearby water bottle, and stepped outside into the bright sun. After applying protective lotion to her body, she stacked a few towels on the ground and lay on her stomach.

As Sana dozed off, the images of her naughty dream played through her mind again.

—

When she woke, Sana was covered in a layer of sweat. Unsure of how much time had passed, she rolled onto her back and sat up to reapply the lotion. She looked curiously at a large wet spot where her groin had been and realized her pussy was absolutely drenched.

“What the hell is wrong with me?” She wondered. The horny young woman scanned her surroundings. Her boyfriend hadn’t come back yet, and there was no one in sight. She figured her body was desperately trying to tell her its needs, so she decided to take the edge off.

Sana slipped her fingers under the soaked fabric and started rubbing her clit. She started slowly and gently, but was soon squirming around on her towel and frantically pleasuring herself. She couldn't control her moaning or the dirty thoughts of being dominated, just like in her dream, that kept invading her mind. Sana allowed herself the fantasy, and imagined the manly stranger tossing her into her tent and having his way with her.

“Fuck, fuck, FUCK! YES! FUCK ME! FUCKING USE MY BODY YOU- OHHHHH MYYYY GODDDD!” Sana’s eyes clamped shut and her back arched as her long awaited orgasm finally exploded within her. Her body writhed and her legs twitched uncontrollably as she rode through the all-consuming waves of pleasure that were thrashing her. Her mouth hung wide open, but no sounds came out until her climax finally started subsiding, at which point she let out several long moans of relief.

Sana lay there panting for several minutes, dumbstruck by the immense satisfaction of her release. There was some guilt too, but she minimized it by reminding herself that it was only a fantasy, and that fantasies were perfectly normal things to have.

The sound of a distant vehicle approaching startled her out of her reverie, and she quickly adjusted herself. She flipped the towel over just in time to lay back down when Minkyu pulled up.

The couple had a relatively peaceful rest of the day, playing cards and drinking. The boyfriend had been boozing particularly hard and Sana insisted they do their best to wash themselves with the large tank of water they'd brought. She took the opportunity to clean her 'dirty' bikini before putting it back on.

Just before they called it a night, the familiar annoyances of the neighbouring camp began picking up in volume. “Ugh, not again,” sighed Sana. The thought that she would have to go confront Yejun again briefly occurred to her, causing her pussy to moisten, but she shook the idea out of her mind.

“Those ash holesh must be nocturnal or shomething,” said Minkyu, slurring his words.

“Let’s go to bed, babe.” Sana suggest, standing, and offering a hand to help her boyfriend steady himself as he rose from his chair. She managed to guide him into the tent, at which point he collapsed, muttering something unintelligible.

“Minkyu?” She shook him, but to no avail. He was out.

The frustrated girlfriend once again found herself horny and unsatisfied while her boyfriend snored in a drunken bliss. She was pretty tipsy herself, and decided she would just try to get a good night’s sleep. There was plenty of time for the sex she needed.

However, Sana's plan wasn’t working out though, as the disturbances from the neighboring camp grew worse throughout the night. “Fucking hell,” she cursed under her breath, deciding it would be simpler to tell them to shut up again. This time, however, she promised herself she would not stay there any longer than necessary. The task was simply to silence them so she could get some rest.

Sana once again made her way around the rock formation to the camp on the opposite side. She was more nervous this time, even though her last trip was productive. After getting close enough to be in earshot of the group of partiers, she cleared her throat and yelled, “Seriously, guys? I thought we addressed this shit last night!”

“She’s here!” Announced a stranger who was the first to notice her arrival. Cheers and applause suddenly echoed throughout the camp, leaving Sana frozen in confusion.

“Oh! Fuck me! Yesss,” taunted another guy, causing the group to erupt in laughter.

Sana’s heart sank to the floor. “Are they... quoting me?” She realized in horror what they were referring to. Her face bright crimson, she challenged them, “What the hell are you guys talking about!?”

One guy answered immediately, “You know, how you want to “Use your tiny body,” I think it was.”

“To use her LITTLE body!” Another man corrected him. This got another big laugh from everyone.

The absolute embarrassment was beyond anything she had ever felt. “You fucking pervs were spying on me!?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, bitch. I just happened to be rock climbing earlier and there you were going to town on your cunt out in the open!” A third man, the apparent witness, chimed in.

“So you run back to camp and tell EVERYONE!?” Sana screamed defensively.

“Well, actually-” He was interrupted by the trailer door suddenly swinging open. Yejun walked down the steps and approached Sana, looking beyond smug. The crowd fell silent, not wanting to miss a single moment of the drama.

Sana let him have it, “This is so fucked up, Yejun! I can’t believe how disgusting you guys are. Aren’t I entitled to a little privacy!? I mean... UGH!” She turned to the group and added, “Fuck you! I don’t want to see any of you ever again. And don’t come near my camp!” With that, she spun around and began strolling away from them.

“Sana,” Yejun called out behind her. “Sana!”

“I don’t wanna hear it. I’m done trying to be cordial with you assholes!” She snapped back, not breaking her stride.

“We have video,” Yejun added calmly, just loud enough for her to hear.

Sana froze in her tracks. “You’re lying...” She muttered, her voice trembling.

“Come and see,” he said, gesturing for the rock climber to hand over his phone.

She didn’t know what to do. She had to know if there was actually video evidence of her doing and saying such things. “You better be fucking kidding!” She stormed back over to Yejun, who had the phone extended in his hand, on display.

Sure enough, a video was playing that depicted her, sprawled out in the sun, dropping her hand to her mound. She could hear the man behind the camera whisper, “Oh shit,” and duck behind a nearby boulder. Sana watched, mortified, as the scene from that morning unfolded before her eyes. The video zoomed in and it was unmistakable that it was her, skin glistening, bucking her hips as she pleasured herself. Then came the finale. Her depraved cries could be heard clear as day as she flopped around in ecstasy on her towel.

She was in shock. A sense of dread washed over her from head to toe, and yet a fiery heat had been building in her pussy. “DELETE IT!” Sana demanded suddenly. She tried to swipe the phone from Yejun, but he quickly raised it above his head and out of her reach.

“Nah ah,” he said, chuckling. “Why would we do that? The boys get horny out here, and with no Internet, this is the best we got to work with. This video is gold.” He leaned in closer, “And if you ask me, this is far superior to porn. It has a certain... personal touch, you know what I mean?”

She took the chance and slapped him across the face. He simply laughed and rubbed his cheek. His arrogance was disgusting, but Sana knew she was powerless. She had to convince them somehow. “Just please delete it, for fuck’s sake.”

“Maybe we could come to some sort of arrangement,” he suggested.

“I know where this is going. I’m not gonna let you fuck me,” Sana answered quickly.

“I figured you’d say that, even though we both know you don’t really mean it. That’s fine though. I was thinking something a little more harmless... and group-oriented,” Yejun stated with a devilish grin.

“Group? Not a single one of you pervs is laying a finger on me!”

“That’s fair. How ‘bout this. Since you’d be depriving us of our prized jerk off material, I think the only logical trade would be a live demonstration, so to speak.”

“I’m not doing that either! You know what, enjoy your dirty video. See if I care!” Sana tried to get the upper hand, motioning that she was leaving.

“Okay, then I’ll just share this with Minkyu. I’m sure he’d be very interested to see what his little girlfriend was up to while he was away,” argued Yejun confidently. He knew he had her backed into a corner.

“God dammit!” Sana shouted in frustration. There was absolutely no way she could allow Minkyu to see this video. It would crush him. It would undoubtedly ruin their relationship beyond repair. Her eyes dropped to the ground in defeat. She knew she had no choice. “Fine...”

“So you’ll do it? You have to strip for us and then pleasure yourself to completion.” Yejun asked eagerly.

“Pleasure myself... right here? In front of everyone?” The task seemed beyond daunting to her.

“That’s right. You just give us a quick little performance, we delete the video, and everyone rests easy tonight. So, do we have a deal?”

“Ugh... I guess so... But NO touching, NO cameras, and you delete ALL records of that video right in front of me.”

“Agreed. You have my word. Hear that boys? We get a show tonight!” Yejun announced, drawing cheers from the men. “Alright... Let’s get you set up over here by the fire,” He said to her, gesturing towards an open space. A couple of guys threw some towels down, while the others moved the chairs so that they were all facing the spot that she was to occupy.

“Got any shots?” Sana asked. She figured if her fate was sealed, she might as well make it easier on herself and get a nice buzz going. The men fetched a plastic shot cup and a bottle of tequila. She took three shots back-to-back in an effort to numb her anxiety.

Sana hesitantly stepped towards her “stage”. She couldn’t believe this was happening. She had never done anything like this before, and the whole situation felt surreal. She reached the towels and turned to face her audience. Her heart raced in her chest as she counted six men; six pairs of eyes eagerly waiting to watch her fully expose herself.

“Show us the goods!” Yelled one of the guys.

“Take your time! Get into it!” Added another.

Sana glared at Yejun, who simply nodded. She felt so incredibly vulnerable, but knew it would be best to just get it over with as soon as possible. “Fuck it...” she pushed herself over the mental hurdle, and pulled her top off in one smooth motion. Her bikini clad tits bounced into the open and the crowd went wild. The alcohol was beginning to kick in, and she felt the pleasant warmth from the drinks spreading throughout her body. She reluctantly peeled her shorts off, earning herself another thunderous applause.

She couldn’t help but grin the slightest bit, if only for a second. She was determined not to enjoy this forced exhibition, but something about how thrilled all these guys were to simply see her body was exciting her. She felt powerful, witnessing them lean in with wide eyes as her hands traveled to the thin straps of her bikini top. The feeling was a welcome one, giving her a sense of control in this otherwise helpless position.

“Don’t be shy! You’re so fucking hot!” Someone shouted.

“I’d give my left nut just to take the rest off myself,” another said.

Sana untied the strap around the back of her neck and the fabric covering her nipples flopped over, much to the delight of her audience. She had never felt so desirable and appreciated. She grabbed her sizable tits and squeezed them together, playing with them seductively for a moment while swaying her hips. The men were out of control, and she could barely make out what they were saying to her and one another over the music.

She had finally gained the courage to look at them more directly, and saw that some were sporting bulges that they couldn’t keep their hands off of. Not wanting to lose the momentum she had built, Sana spun around and made a show of her shapely ass. She slowly pulled her thong down and it dropped to the floor. She was completely naked now, all of her most vulnerable parts on display for this group of strangers she knew almost nothing about.

“Slap your ass!” A voice suggested. She did so without a second thought. The whole ordeal was beginning to feel natural. Everyone cheered. “Bend over and do it again!” She complied. Her inhibitions melted further with each passing moment. She wouldn’t admit it to herself yet, but she was starting to enjoy the attention.

“Get on your knees and pinch your nipples!” Sana obeyed, lowering herself and rolling her stiff nipples in her fingers. She could feel her bare pussy getting wet as she followed the lewd instructions. “Touch your pussy!” Her hand fell between her legs, and she glided her fingers over her slippery lips, sending a bolt of pleasure through her.

“Spread your legs so we can see!”

“Are you wet?”

Sana nodded, and rested her ass on the towel, parting her legs and fully revealing her glistening pussy. She started lightly rubbing her clit, her drooling sex begging for more attention. One by one, she witnessed the men freeing their erections and stroking themselves to her performance. She had never seen more than one cock at a time, let alone six. At least four of them were noticeably bigger than her boyfriend’s, and she felt herself captivated, curiously examining the various shapes and sizes.

“Damn, that pussy looks tight!”

“Oh my, it’s perfect!”

Her eyes found Yejun, who had been surprisingly quiet throughout the ordeal. His cock was shockingly thick and lengthy, just as she had imagined. He gently massaged the spot where the shaft met his swollen mushroom tip, causing it to visibly throb. She briefly wondered if it would even fit inside her.

Sana openly moaned in pleasure as she publicly stimulated herself. When Yejun laid out the details, that she would touch herself to completion, she’d thought the degrading act would end with her faking an orgasm and getting out of there as soon as she could. It was now clear though that her body was responding well beyond her expectations.

“Why is this turning me on so much?” Sana thought to herself. She felt like such a slut, getting herself off while six horny strangers rubbed their hard dicks right in front of her. Sana’s mind was overcome with lust, and increasingly dirty thoughts infiltrated her innocence. She imagined the men losing control and taking her right then and there, using her body to satiate their big cocks. The vision made her shiver with wicked delight.

One guy moaned suddenly, grabbing her attention, and she watched as he began shooting ropes of cum onto the ground between them. The sight of it fueled Sana’s desire even further, and she whimpered with need as the nameless camper drained his balls for her.

“Fuuck... You made me cum so hard, you slut,” he said to her.

The naked Sana nodded slowly at him; her face scrunched in apparent pleasure as she worked her clit with fervor. She was getting close, desperate to achieve the massive release that this unbelievably dirty scene was building in her.

Two more of her audience members soon hit their limits, grunting as they pumped their hardness, and spewing their creamy loads all over the desert sand.

“Ungh, Yes!” Sana squealed. Watching the big cocks explode for her was driving her mad. She had no idea that being the center of attention for a group of horny men would turn her on so much, but she couldn’t get enough. She finally hit her peak, and screamed in pleasure as a powerful orgasm shook to her core. The men cheered for her, but their voices were drowned out as her senses focused on nothing but her overwhelming climax.

Sana lay there twitching wildly for a solid minute before finally opening her eyes. Yejun was standing over her, pumping his fat cock in his fist. “Oh fuck...” She cooed, biting her lip, as he seized up and pointed his pulsing meat at her. A long, sticky rope of semen shot out landed across her torso. Another splattered all over her tits. The next reached as far as her chin, pooling in the crevice below her neck.

Sana, still in the aftermath of her orgasm, watched in amazement as Yejun painted her smooth skin with his warm cum. He had pushed the arrangement further than they had agreed upon, but at that moment, she didn’t mind it. In fact, she was glad he did. Being covered in the copious seed of the dominant stud jabbed at something primal in her. She felt like she might cum again right then from the mere sight of him.

Yejun’s last few dribbles landed directly on her mound, trickling down her tender pussy and mixing with her own juices. “That was quite the show, wouldn’t you say, gorgeous?”

Sana simply nodded, still catching her breath.

“God, you look so fucking beautiful all covered with my cum.”

She moaned lightly. If he had wanted to fuck her right there and then, she would have let him. Her soaking pussy felt insatiable.

“Well, my cum slut, I’d say you definitely earned your right to delete the video,” Yejun said.

“Okay...” She murmured, still panting. She hardly even cared about the video anymore. Things felt different now.

“I’d ask if you enjoyed yourself, but I think we all already know the answer,” he teased. The other men agreed.

“This slut is fucking wild. Are you gonna stay the night with us, sweetie?” One asked.

“Shit,” Sana muttered, a bit of reality coming back to her. “How long has it been? I need to go.”

“Up to you. You have my permission,” Yejun said with authority.

“Oh, thaaanks,” she responded with sarcasm. She was learning to enjoy the way he talked down to her. He offered her his hand, and she took it, rising to her feet. She could feel his cum drizzling down her skin.

“You should wear my cum all the way back to your boyfriend,” he suggested, groping her ass with one of his hands.

“I... can’t do that...” Sana picked up the towel and wiped herself off. As much as the thought of going right to sleep with Yejun’s cream all over her turned her on, she could never be that cruel. Yejun smacked her ass with a loud crack, causing her to yelp. “Hey! No touching!”

“Oh please. You love it. Want another?” He asked, grinning.

“Screw y-AH!” She was interrupted by another firm slap. Sana tried her best to maintain a disapproving look, but she knew he wasn’t buying it.

Much to everyone’s disappointment, the sexy young woman got dressed and said her goodbyes, trotting out of the camp. Her mind was racing. The gravity of what had happened hadn’t fully settled in yet, and the dull pangs of guilt were overshadowed by her incredible lust.

She climbed into her tent to a snoring boyfriend, and immediately got to work on her ravenous pussy. Sana pleasured herself relentlessly, soaking the fabric of her sleeping bag and losing track of how many times she came. She could still smell the faint scent of Yejun’s cum on her, and wished she hadn’t wiped it off. Her hand did not leave her cunt until she eventually passed out.

—

The next morning proved to be troublesome right off the bat. Sana was woken up by Minkyu climbing on top of her. He had opened her sleeping bag and was presumably attempting to stir her in the hopes of having sex.

“Good morning,” he said, kissing her. “Ah, last night was a blur. Apparently I came all over you?”

Sana looked down at her skin and found she was covered in several white streaks of dried semen. Her hasty wipe down had not even come close to actually removing all of Yejun’s enormous load. “Oh... Yeah. I was drunk too, but I do remember us fucking and you wanting to cum on me,” she lied.

Minkyu laughed. “That’s so weird, I never do that. It must’ve been some crazy good sex. That seems like a lot of cum!”

“Oh my god, yeah... It was so much.” She could feel her pussy getting drenched as she recalled the previous night.

“I didn’t accidentally cum inside of you too, did I?” He asked worriedly. Sana’s heart skipped a beat, unsure of why he would think that. He motioned to the large stain in her sleeping bag where her crotch had been. It was surprisingly big, and she could see how it could be mistaken for dried semen. It was cum, for sure, but hers.

“Uh... No. It wasn’t inside me, don’t worry. I just wiped it off my body and onto that spot.” It was a lame explanation, but she hoped it made enough sense. Sana crawled over to the pack of water bottles on one side of the tent and Minkyu gasped.

“Holy shit. Did I spank you too?”

“Huh? Oh! Y-yeah. You did...” She tried to get a look at her ass cheek and could see part of the large, deep red prints. “Damn, Yejun marked me good,” she thought.

“What the hell got into me last night? I’m never rough with you. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry babe. I had an amazing time last night,” Sana reassured him. “Anyway, you really wore me out, so I’m gonna drink this and try to get some more sleep.”

“Aw, I was hoping we could do it, but yeah if I did all that to you then I understand.”

“There’s always later.” Sana kissed him.

“Well, I guess I’ll go for a drive,” Minkyu stated.

“Okay, have fun,” she said, between big gulps of water. Sana waited for the sound of her boyfriend’s car departing to let out a big sigh of relief. That had been way too close for comfort, and she was angry with herself for jeopardizing their relationship. Now that she was sober, the guilt was really starting to weigh on her. As much as she was enjoying her new-found naughtiness, she needed to put a stop to it before things got even more out of hand.

As Sana tried to sleep, her mind was constantly bombarded with visions of her dirty exhibition. She gave in and rubbed her pussy to the thought of Yejun and his huge, juicy cock showering her; claiming her. She wished he had not let her leave and fucked her cum-covered body all night. Maybe if she had just gotten to experience him inside of her, she could finally be released from this spell of perpetual lust she was trapped in.

After a series of quality orgasms, Sana’s arm was tired and needed a break. It hadn’t been enough though; she needed more. “What the fuck is going on with me?” She decided to give her swollen clit a break. She slipped on her tight bikini and lay on her stomach just outside of the tent.

She didn’t realize she had dozed off, and woke groggily to strong hands rubbing her lower back. “Oh, hey babe. How was your drive? Mmm... That feels nice.”

“I couldn’t just stand by and let you burn your perfect skin.”

“Yejun!? Wh- Y-You can’t be here!”

“Shhh... Just relax and let me make you feel good,” Yejun said calmly, pressing his strong thumbs into her and expertly rolling them along her spine.

It did feel great, but she couldn’t risk Minkyu showing up and seeing Yejun with his hands all over her. “Yejun. Seriously. This is wayyy too far.” Sana tried to push up from the towel, but he pressed a palm between her shoulders, firmly holding her in place. “What the fuck! Let me go!”

“Just go with it, slut. I know what your body needs,” He insisted. His oily, free hand roamed down her backside and reached her bare ass.

“Don’t call me that! Last night was a one-time deal, and it never should’ve happened in the first place,” Sana argued.

“Psh. You fucking loved every second of it. Don’t lie.” He squeezed her shiny ass cheek and jiggled it around.

“I didn’t! You took advantage of me!” She held firm, and wasn’t going to let him manipulate her. Yejun swiftly brought his open palm down on her, spanking her exposed flesh. “AH! Stop!” He struck her again. She whimpered and tried to wiggle out from under him. He countered her attempt by sitting on her back and pinning her arms to her sides with his legs. Yejun now had full access and groped her slick cheeks with both hands.

“I’ll make you a deal. If your slutty little pussy isn’t soaking wet, I’ll leave you alone,” he said. Sana squirmed and kicked her legs as he forced her thighs apart. She knew she had no chance with those terms. He slid her tiny thong to the side and ran a finger over her exposed pink lips. “Ha. Beyond soaked. Let’s check inside though, just to make sure.” He pushed two of his thick fingers deep into her cunt. She couldn’t help but moan. “Wow, you couldn’t be more drenched, you horny little thing. Guess that means you DO want this,” he stated.

“No! Ungh... Stop!” Sana continued to protest, but his fingers were feeding the growing fire in her. He worked them carefully, thrusting in and out of her, and curving them in different directions to test her reactions. She tried her hardest to block out the pleasure, but her involuntary moans were increasingly frequent. Her pussy was clenching around him, desperate to be more fully stuffed. The helpless girlfriend’s secret fantasy was becoming a reality, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Despite her best efforts, Sana was about to cum hard.

Yejun sensed a change in her breathing, and tensing of her muscles. He quickly withdrew his fingers, and she groaned in obvious disappointment. “Nooooo,” she whimpered. He plunged back in, thrusted a few times, and pulled out, grazing her clit as he passed it. “Yes-Oh my god-fuck-NOOOOO!” She cried out the words in quick succession as he gave her more, and complained with further desperation when he denied her again.

“I’m getting mixed signals here. What do you want?” He asked, smiling smugly. He continued the torturous pattern, keeping her right on the edge.

“Fuck! Just-Ungh-Do it!”

“Do what?”

“Make me cum!”

“Are you sure?” He rubbed her clit frantically, only to stop after a second.

“UGH! YESSSS!”

“With my cock?”

“PLEASE!” It didn’t even register to Sana what she had agreed to, but it was too late. Yejun immediately jumped behind her, pulled his shorts down, lifted her hips, and pushed his hard cock straight into her dripping pussy. She shrieked as his giant cock invaded further and further into her depths, stretching her to her limits. Sana screamed and moaned wildly as each inch of his thick, veiny cock entered her. Before he was even half-way in, she exploded in orgasm. Her entire body quivered uncontrollably, and her pussy pulsed around his meat as the incredible pleasure rocked her.

Yejun grunted blissfully as he bottomed out in the sexy, young girlfriend. He paused for a moment to savor her tight, gripping hole, and the way her full ass rippled as she shook beneath him. He had finally claimed her; speared her precious cunt at the camp she shared with her boyfriend. He began slowly easing in and out of her as Sana’s screams turned into drawn out moans.

“You loving my big dick, slut?” He asked confidently, smacking her on the ass.

“AHGH! Yes! Ohhmm my fucking God! It’s soooo - Ungh! - huge!” Sana couldn’t believe how fully stuffed she felt, nor how amazing the feeling.

“You’ve been secretly hoping I would force myself on you, haven’t you?”

“Fuck! Yessss... Oh... You made me cum so fucking hard...”

“Do you cum that hard for your boyfriend?”

“Ungh... No... Never,” she felt bad for a brief moment at admitting it, but she was far too caught up in the heat of the moment to care.

“If you ask nicely, I’ll give you another one.”

“Mmmpf... Please... Please make me cum again...”

Yejun, pleased with her submission, grabbed a fistful of her hair and began ramping up his pace.

“Oh, fuck! Fuck me, Yejun! Yes!” Just like in her fantasies, he was being rough and dominant with her. It was something she didn’t know for sure she would like until this moment. He pulled her hair back tightly and started ramming into her. The repeated cracks of his skin hitting hers echoed against the rocks looming over them.

Sana clutched the towel in her fists as Yejun forcefully pounded her from behind. He was not holding back, slamming his entire length into her while she moaned loudly in encouragement.

“You love being fucked hard by a real man, don’t you, bitch?” He asked with authority.

“Anngh! YES! It’s so fucking gooood! Ohhhh! I’m gonna! Fucking! CUM!” Sana’s pussy clamped down hard on Yejun’s throbbing cock as he slammed into her one last time and flexed his meat, causing it to swell and stretch her even further. He released her hair and caught her chest, firmly squeezing her tits and pinching her nipples. She flailed in ecstasy in his arms as her senses were overwhelmed with pure pleasure.

Before her mind-shattering orgasm had run its course, he aggressively flipped her onto her back and crawled on top of her. Yejun rubbed her clit with his mushroom tip, making her squirm around beneath him. He then pressed into her sopping wet folds and filled her spasming pussy again. He pressed his mouth against hers, and drove his tongue into her welcoming mouth. The two kissed deeply and passionately while he slowly eased in and out of her, moaning into each other’s mouths.

“Oh my fucking God, Yejun...” Sana was at a loss for words. She couldn’t believe how incredible she felt. She hadn’t the slightest idea sex could be this good.

“Mmm...” Yejun was relishing the moment, drinking in the sight of the beautiful woman who was finally under his control. She was clearly captivated by him, her eyes telling the story of a girl who just had a sexual awakening. He pressed his hard body into her soft chest and kissed her again. “You know you’re mine now, right?”

“Ugh... Yes... I’m all yours...” She whispered back, kissing his neck. She didn’t overthink it. Sana just gave into the moment, and at that moment, he owned her.

Still gently working his full length in her, he said, “You’re staying with me tonight.”

“Okay...” She agreed automatically.

“You like sneaking around and being my little cheating slut, don’t you?”

“Yeah...”

“Isn’t it so fucking hot to be used behind your boyfriend’s back?” Yejun started thrusting more forcefully again.

“Mmm... Yes... It is...”

“You want me to use your little body a lot more, don’t you?”

“Ugh... Fuck yes. So much,” Sana admitted.

“Good. Now beg me for my cum like the little cheating whore you are.”

“Mmmpf... Yes. Please cover me with all your hot cum again,” she pleaded.

“Hmm... I was thinking of unloading inside of you this time,” he stated, as if her opinion didn’t really matter.

“But, I’m not on the pill,” she explained quickly, just then realizing that she had been enjoying this raw, uncovered cock that whole time.

“Even better,” he said devilishly. “But ok, we’ll save that for next time.” He shifted gears, and started driving into her more harshly. He brutally fucked her into the ground while grunting more dirty things to her.

“Take that dick, you cheating slut!”

“Yes! Fuck me hard!”

“Who fucks you the best?”

“You! Ungh! You do!”

“Better than your boyfriend?”

“Oh my god! So much - Fuck! - Better!”

“Don’t forget it, bitch!”

“Ahh! I won’t! Hngh! I’m gonna cum again!”

“Do it! Cum on my cock slut!”

On command, Sana’s eyes rolled back as her third explosive climax with Yejun rippled through her. He pulled out of her and jerked his slimy cock over her writhing frame. His first several creamy ropes shot out across the entire length of her body, streaking her from her belly to her hair. The next thick strands flung in different directions, splattering her skin as he aimed his twitching dick in an effort to cover as much of her as possible.

Sana watched in awe as the chiseled stud towering over her coated her in his warm seed. She couldn’t believe how much sticky semen was spurting out of him as he claimed her. It was the most erotic thing she had ever witnessed.

Yejun breathed heavily as he admired the freshly glazed woman beneath him. He lazily wiped his oozing cock along her swollen pussy. “Damn... I could get used to seeing you like this.”

Snapping them both out of their orgasmic bliss, the distant sound of a vehicle was suddenly apparent. “Oh shit! Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Sana cursed frantically. In her panic, she started rubbing the cum into her skin and wiping the excess onto the towel. Yejun grabbed his shorts and scrambled to the nearest boulder, ducking out of sight.

Minkyu’s car came into view and halted in its usual spot just as she adjusted her bikini back into place. Sana’s heart was racing as she inspected her skin, hastily smearing the patches she had missed. “Hey babe!” Her boyfriend said, stepping out of the car and approaching her.

“H-Hi! I um, was just reapplying,” she stammered, trying desperately to sound calm.

“Cool. You feeling better?” He said, drawing closer.

“Sooo much better...” She said truthfully. Minkyu was getting too close, and she feared he would notice something was off. “Wait!” She jumped to her feet. “Let me wash up really quick, I smell terrible,” she said, scurrying to the water tank.

“Uh, okay. I thought you just put more lotion on though,” Minkyu said suspiciously.

“Oh... yeah. Well, I didn’t know when you’d be back, but I’ve had enough sun for now,” Sana stated through her nervously clenched jaw. She doused herself with a generous amount of body wash and splashed herself with water, trying to erase all the evidence of her steamy sex.

“Hey, neighbors!” Sana’s eyes widened in horror as Yejun emerged, smiling and waving at the couple. “Oops. Am I interrupting shower time?”

Minkyu stepped in front of Sana, who had just been scrubbing the small patches of skin under her bikini. “Uh, yeah. What are you doing here?” He asked, furrowing his brow and trying to conceal his nearly naked girlfriend.

“My bad. I just thought I’d stop by and invite you guys to party with us tonight. I know we haven’t been on the best terms, but it’s our last night here, and I thought it could be like a peace offering or something,” Yejun proposed.

His invite caught them both off guard. To Minkyu, it seemed to come out of nowhere, and Sana was shocked by his boldness. Minkyu replied first, “I dunno, You guys have been kind of a headache since we got here, to be honest.”

“I know, and I am sorry about that. That’s why I wanna bury the hatchet. Free food and drinks on us, and then you guys can have our spot when we head out,” Yejun reasoned.

Sana stepped out from behind her boyfriend and looped her arm into his. “That could be fun, babe. Maybe we should give them a chance to make it up to us.” She shot Yejun a quick grin.

Minkyu recoiled the slightest bit, partly in surprise that his girlfriend was considering the invitation, and also in annoyance that she was now fully visible to the unwanted visitor in her skimpy bikini. The fact that she was hanging on his arm though, put him at ease. “Hmm... We’ll think about it.”

“Alright, well. Come on over as early as you’d like! See you guys,” Yejun said warmly as he turned to walk back towards his camp.

Sana’s pussy tingled, wondering what he was up to. “Aw, I think he actually feels bad. We should go. Get drunk for free, and then enjoy the rest of our week how we intended.”

“I guess you’re right. Something about that dude rubs me the wrong way though. Plus I thought you hated them even more than I did,” Minkyu argued, conflicted.

“C’mon, he doesn’t seem that bad. We can always leave if the party’s lame.” Sana insisted.

Minkyu sighed, but finally agreed, not wanting to disappoint his beautiful girlfriend.

—

As the sun dipped below the distant desert hills, the young couple set off towards the rowdy camp, which unsurprisingly could already be heard loud and clear. Yejun was the first to notice them approach, and jogged over, two beers in hand. “You made it!” He nestled between them and draped his arms over their shoulders, filling their empty hands with the ice-cold bottles. “You guys have some catching up to do,” he said, squeezing Sana’s ass and winking at her.

“This is Sana and Minkyu, boys! Let’s show ‘em a good time,” he announced to his friends. The men shouted their greetings towards the couple. Sana noticed them stealing knowing glances at her, which she had fully anticipated. She wore a tight, white tank top and a short, black skirt. The thought of the big group of hot guys lusting after her again was exciting, but she hoped they understood not to make it obvious that they had met her before.

The gathering quickly proved to be a good time for both Minkyu and Sana, who played a few rounds of board games, and enjoyed tasty burgers one of the men had cooked up. Everyone was becoming quite intoxicated, and a little less sneaky when checking out Sana. Minkyu hadn’t seemed to notice, though, as he was constantly being offered drinks and distracted by various conversations. Every so often, Yejun would grope Sana when her boyfriend wasn’t looking, and she’d smile slyly at him.

At one point, she announced she had to use the bathroom, and Yejun was quick to offer the facilities in his trailer. He gave his friend, who was engaging Minkyu in a detailed discussion about their cars, a nod, and quietly slipped into the large enclosure behind Sana.

As soon as the door swung shut, they were all over each other. They made out hungrily, and had their hands in the other’s clothes within seconds. “Couldn’t wait to sneak off for some of this, eh?” He asked, as she wrapped her fingers around his hard cock.

“I need your fucking cock,” Sana cooed.

Yejun laughed, “You’re such a slut. Get on your knees.”

Sana complied immediately, kneeling at his feet, and pulling his waistband down until his erection sprang out in front of her face. She realized she hadn’t seen it this close before, nor had she felt it in her hand. It was so girthy and warm. Admiring his impressive erection was making her salivate.

Once again, Sana found herself wondering how she had changed so much in a matter of days. She had enjoyed the pleasures of sex for years, but never to this extent. She was becoming obsessed with being dominated by a huge cock like Yejun’s. She felt compelled to worship it.

She rested the massive appendage on her face, savoring the musky aroma and weight of it. She snaked out her tongue, and savored her first taste of it, teasing him with little licks up the length of his shaft. Upon reaching the bulbous, velvety head, she flattened her tongue and massaged the bottom ridge.

Yejun let out a small moan, fixated on her mesmerized face. She swirled her tongue around the circumference before pulling the head into her mouth and sucking on it. He pushed forward slowly, and she accepted more of the thick meat until it hit the back of her throat. Sana tried to pop it out of her mouth, but he placed a hand on the back of her head and held her there. After several seconds, he finally pulled her face off of him by her hair, causing her to cough. A large string of saliva hung between her tongue and the tip of his cock.

“Mmm... I love how your big cock feels in my mouth,” she murmured, stroking his sticky shaft with her slender hand. A clear bead of precum formed at the tip, and she lapped it up with the end of her tongue. “Mmmpf...” Sana slurped him down to the back of her throat again, gagging slightly, and began sliding him in and out of her mouth.

“Ughhh... what a hot cum slut...” Yejun moaned under his breath. “God damn you’re a natural. Better milk that cock like your life depends on it. Minkyu’s gonna be wondering where you are soon,” he warned teasingly, resting his hands on the back of his own head and letting her do the work.

Sana sucked him off with her warm, wet mouth with as much effort as she could muster. Her gargled moans synced up with the squelching of her pumping fist. “Don’t forget to look up at me,” Yejun instructed. “A good cocksucker always shows her eyes.”

She obeyed, and stared up at him with an expression that conveyed, “Please give me your cum.”

He started tensing up and sucking in his breath sharply. “Ungh... Here it comes...”

Sana felt him twitch against her tongue, and soon felt strong blasts of creamy fluid hitting her throat. She tried her best to swallow it fast enough, but the enormous load was overflowing her tiny mouth. Some of his semen spilled out past her lips, and Yejun grabbed her head and rammed his spurting cock straight down her throat.

“Breathe through your nose. Good girl. We don’t want to be making a mess just yet.”

She felt Yejun’s warm cum sliding straight down her throat, and choked through the forceful hold he had on her. Sana was finally able to relax her muscles, and allowed him to drain his balls directly down to her stomach. Her pussy was absolutely drenched, responding to the way he continued to roughly manhandle her. She didn’t understand why she craved the abuse, but was becoming addicted to being used like a toy.

When the last of Yejun’s unbelievably copious load had been swallowed, Sana licked him from balls to tip one last time and pleaded, “Please fuck me Yejun. I’m so wet for you.”

“Later. For now, you need to get back to your little boyfriend,” he answered dismissively.

She pouted, but knew he was right. She had been away for long enough. Sana straightened herself up, fixed her hair, and quietly exited the trailer. She was relieved to find Minkyu hadn’t moved from his chair, and approached him from behind, putting her hands on his shoulders. He reeled around to look at her, and she could tell from his eyes that he had continued getting drunker.

“OH HEYYY! Where did you go?” He inquired through a crooked smile.

“I just had to use the bathroom,” she answered simply.

“Well we just took shots. You want one?” Minkyu asked her, motioning to the bottle of tequila on the table nearby. She agreed, quickly pouring and gulping down her shot. It instantly warmed her belly and was the perfect thing to mask the strong taste of Yejun in her mouth.

She noticed the guy her boyfriend had been talking to was staring at her, grinning. “He probably knows I was in there messing around with his friend,” she thought. To her surprise, it didn’t embarrass her in the slightest. She found it hot that all these random guys knew what a slut she had been recently. Sana noted the alcohol setting in, and it made her even more horny.

“What’s your name?” She asked the attractive man sitting across from Minkyu.

“Brad,” he replied, flashing his exceptionally white teeth.

“Brad’s pretty cool, babe. He has almost the exact same try-”

“Can you toss me that beer Brad?” Sana asked sweetly, interrupting her boyfriend. He threw her the nearby can, which she caught, opened, and tipped into her mouth. She then proceeded to spill a generous amount of the cold liquid all over her top, completely soaking the white fabric through. “Oooops!” She feigned the accident and smiled gleefully at Brad’s open mouth stare. Her large chest and black bikini top were clearly visible under the now transparent garment.

“Babe, how drunk are you?” Minkyu asked, laughing heartily at her clumsiness.

“I guess a little more than I thought,” she lied. “I’ll just have to take this off. At least everything underneath is waterproof.” She had raised her voice for that last comment, peering around from her peripheral to see how many heads she turned.

“Sana, wait!” Minkyu shouted to stop her, but it was too late. His girlfriend pulled her top off and stood near the center of the camp almost completely naked from the waist up. “Avaaaa...”

“Babe, relax. It’s just a bikini. I would wear this at the beach,” she tried to reason with him.

“You’ve never worn anything even close to that small! Your tits are like completely out!” Minkyu’s argument backfired, as his loud comments had drawn everyone’s attention to her. A few of the men exclaimed their approval as Minkyu’s face grew red with anger.

“It’s okay love,” she said as she approached her jealous boyfriend. “Guys are going to look at me sometimes, but I’m all yours. I promise.” She kissed him deeply, feeling his tension melt away as she pressed into him and reassured him of their status. “Now take another shot with me.”

“Okay...” Minkyu finally agreed, sheepishly. The couple downed another dose of the brown poison and everyone cheered at realizing Sana would be nearly topless for the rest of the night.

Yejun reappeared at some point during the commotion and grinned slyly at Sana. “I’ve got a fun idea!” He announced. “Minkyu should do a body shot off his hot little girlfriend!”

“Oooh that would be sexy. Let’s do it babe!” Sana liked where the plan was going.

“I dunno... I think I might’ve hit my limit,” slurred Minkyu, stumbling a bit.

“Okay, someone else’s turn then,” Yejun suggested, still smiling at Sana.

“No, wait, wait, wait... I’ll do it,” Minkyu said.

“Alright, let’s do a titty shot.” Yejun boldly squeezed a lime wedge over her chest, getting it all sticky with the sour juice, and sprinkled some salt on top. He then carefully pressed a full shot cup into her cleavage. Sana helped by squeezing her tits together to secure the drink. “Okay, lover boy. Got her all set up for ya.” He said to Minkyu, staying next to Sana and placing a hand on her lower back.

The drunken boyfriend stepped over to her and straightened himself up. “Lick one, take the shot, and lick the other. No hands,” Yejun instructed. Sana giggled as Minkyu gently tongued her left breast and then struggled to get the shot securely in his mouth. He threw his head back clumsily, spilling most of the alcohol on himself. The onlookers laughed.

“No prob, let’s try it again. Just open your mouth and put it right here between these delicious tits,” Yejun suggested. His hand had slowly wandered down her backside and was now under her skirt. As Minkyu got into position at the base of Sana’s chest, Yejun held the tequila bottle over her and slowly tipped it downwards. A stream of alcohol poured down through her fleshy crevice and straight into Minkyu’s waiting mouth, which quickly filled to maximum capacity.

Minkyu reflexively swallowed the mouthful, choking a little, and stumbling backwards. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna be sick,” he winced, clutching his stomach.

“Go throw up behind the trailer. That’s kinda our spot.” Yejun motioned towards the

large vessel at the edge of camp.

“You alright, babe?” Asked Sana, sweetly. She felt guilty for letting her boyfriend drink so excessively, but he was going to do that anyway, she reasoned.

“Y-Yeah, I’ll be - hich - fine... Jusht gotta...” He staggered into the shadows, mumbling.

“Who’s next?” Asked Yejun, firmly squeezing Sana’s plump ass beneath her skirt.

Brad was first to fill the space in front of her. A tight circle of men had formed around the much smaller girlfriend, her breasts glistened as they rose and fell with her breathing. She was beyond excited, and was flooding her tiny thong in her juices; right next to Yejun’s exploring fingers.

Brad placed his hands on Sana’s bare waist, just above the hem of her skirt. “You’re so fucking hot,” he said admiringly.

“Thanks! Not so bad yourself,” she replied, smiling widely.

Yejun abruptly pulled at the strings around her neck and the small patches of fabric slid up to her collar bone. Sana squealed and bounced a little as the concealed parts of her breasts came into view. Her hard nipples pointed straight at Brad, who was looking at her like she was a meal. Yejun lightly drizzled some tequila over her naked tits and Brad pounced. He noisily slurped at her smooth skin, licking and sucking her chest dry.

Sana softly moaned as the burly man took her stiff nipple into his mouth and rolled his tongue around it. Yejun had begun tracing his finger back and forth along her covered, wet slit. She was beyond horny, sandwiched between the two strong males. One attacked her tits ravenously while the other teased her pussy. She arched her back, sticking her chest out and placing her hands on Yejun’s thighs behind her to steady herself.

Yejun called for the next round, and Brad stepped away disappointed. One by one, the other four men took their turns ridding Sana’s tits of alcohol. They grew bolder over time, roughly squeezing and pinching her fleshy orbs as they sucked at them. A couple guys even licked up her neck and ended up forcing their tongues into her mouth. Her moans intensified as they took more liberties with her. Yejun had slid her thong to the side and was firmly rubbing her slippery clit.

As the last stranger was biting her sensitive nipples and groping her chest in his rough hands, Sana murmured, “Oh my God... I’m gonna cum, you guys...”

Just then, Minkyu could be heard dragging his feet through the dirt. “Sana?”

“Minkyu!” She shouted, her volume influenced by a mix of surprise and her rapidly approaching climax. Luckily, her half-naked form was concealed behind the wall of taller men. “You feel okay, babe?”

“Ugh, I dunno...” He collapsed into a nearby chair. “What are you doing?”

“We’re just tnghh - talking. Be right THERRRE...” Sana lost control of her voice as she orgasmed. Yejun clamped his free hand over her mouth as he massaged her throbbing clit. If not for the men holding onto her, she would have fallen over. The pleasure bolted through her and made her legs quiver. The audience was overwhelmed with lust from the display, and several hands were extended to cop a feel of her curves. Her hips bucked against Yejun’s firm touch as she silently came. She was on cloud nine, countless hands exploring her body while she ground her needy pussy through the pleasure. Someone eventually undid her skirt, which fell to the floor. She rode out the final waves of her orgasm in nothing but her g string thong.

When Sana had control of her body again, she peered through the large frames in front of her and saw that Minkyu was slumped over in the chair, seemingly passed out. She made a move to squeeze through the men and check on him, but they didn’t budge, and Yejun didn’t let go of her hips. “He’ll be fine, gorgeous. Just let him sleep it off while we take care of you.”

“But... I should at least-”

“Nope.” Yejun interrupted Sana by lifting her and draping her over his broad shoulder. “Save your breath, slut. You’re gonna need it.” He carried her towards the trailer, the rest of the group following closely behind. The parade of horny men passed the unconscious boyfriend, and piled into the shelter.

A few of the guys hurriedly rearranged the furniture, collapsing tables, and extending the sofa. Soon there was a large makeshift bed in the middle of the enclosure, surrounded by padded cushions. Yejun threw Sana down in the center of it, and the six red-blooded males closed in on their prey.

The young girlfriend felt completely helpless as strong hands grabbed at her from every angle. Yejun forcefully ripped her stringy thong from her and dove mouth-first into her juicy, swollen cunt. Sana squealed in delight as he tongued her pussy with fervor. She gazed up and witnessed a variety of stiff cocks springing free all around her. She had seen each of them the previous night, but they were distant and non-threatening. This time, however, she was closely surrounded by them, and they all pointed at her aggressively. Sana knew that every single one of their hard dicks was going to have a turn with her, whether she consented or not. It was definitely more than she bargained for, but the feeling of being utterly powerless to do anything to stop them drove her mad with lust.

“Oh fuck... Unghh... You guys are all so big...” The overwhelmed Sana cooed.

“You ever taken multiple cocks before, bitch?” One deep-voiced man asked, shoving his way to her face and stroking her soft cheek.

“N-no... hohhh... it’s so fucking hot...” She admitted shakily as Yejun assaulted her sensitive clit with his tongue. Sana could hardly believe what was happening. She’d been a sweet, faithful girlfriend for years, and within a matter of days had transformed into a cock-loving slut. A cheating whore who was about to let a group of strangers use her body for their pleasure. The depraved thought triggered an orgasm, and she squirmed around on the bed, moaning in ecstasy and squeezing Yejun’s head between her thighs.

The deep voice boomed at her, “Suck my dick, you slut.” He tapped his meaty erection against her lips, and she parted them, allowing him to drive it into her warm mouth. As Sana bathed the thick cock with her tongue, two other throbbing hardons were pressed against her cheeks. The horny men jabbed at her face, trying to get a turn in her wet mouth. She wrapped her fingers around each of them, and started pumping her fists as she focused on pleasuring the velvety skin poking the back of her throat.

Yejun rose to his knees on the bed and started rubbing his purple head along her dripping entrance. “Mmmmpff! Ohmm yes... Give me that big cock Yejun... Glrrmp...” Sana begged, pulling her mouth off of one dick and swallowing another. He grunted as he slipped into her folds and pushed forward as her clenching pussy swallowed him whole.

Sana moaned intensely through the rod in her mouth as Yejun began rhythmically fucking her. She could barely focus on attending to the three slick cocks looming over her as Yejun stretched her tight cunt. Her tits bounced in circles on her chest as he pounded into her again and again.

One man grabbed her jaw and turned her towards him, promptly filling her abused mouth again. He fucked her face harshly, pulling globs of saliva from her as he jerked in and out of her. The men waiting their turn anxiously groped the parts of her within their reach. One guy was rubbing his dick against her bare foot.

Sana closed her eyes and tried to relax, completely submitting and allowing the brutes to do whatever they wanted to her. She felt another strong orgasm building as the fat cocks pumped her mercilessly from both ends. The cheating girlfriend was completely smothered in hot men, their combined musky smells and animalistic grunts overwhelming her senses.

Without warning, the cock sliding in and out of her mouth jerked, and started slathering her taste buds with warm cum. She darted her tongue around, savoring the salty flavor and sensation of the pulsing meat. She gulped the man’s semen down noisily and her face was immediately stuffed with another needy dick.

“Fuuuuuck,” groaned the guy whose cum was still sliding down Sana’s throat. “That tight little mouth is perfect. I couldn’t hold back. Thanks for sharing, Yejun. How’s that little snatch feel?”

“You said it, Dave - perfection. I’m about to bust in her. Start flooding that little unprotected womb,” Yejun answered through heavy breaths. He was slamming into Sana with all his might now, lightly rocking the trailer back and forth.

“Unprotected? Dayum, that’s fucking hot. You ever been creampied, slut?” Dave asked her.

“No!” Sana barely managed to answer between moans. She had never had someone cum inside of her, but the thought of it seemed irresistible now.

“Hohoo... You our breeding bitch now... We’re gonna fill that little pussy up to the brim.”

“Ungh! Fuck yes! Cum wherever you want!” She shouted in encouragement right as Yejun tightly gripped her waist, holding her in place, and pressed himself fully against her, jabbing her cervix as his cock exploded deep within her. Sana could feel his warm semen splashing against her inner walls, and her cunt spasmed wildly. The cock in her mouth popped out as she thrashed around wildly, her pussy tightly milking the seed from Yejun’s dick.

“OHHH MYYYY FUUUUCKKKKK! I CAN FEEL ALL YOUR HOT CUM FILLING ME UP! UNNNGHH YESSSSS!” Sana screamed in pleasure as he released his massive load into her.

“Jesus, this whore is too damn sexy,” muttered one of the guys she had been sucking off. He jerked his dick over her and started shooting ropes onto her face and tits.

“UGH! GOD I FUCKING LOVE CUM!” Sana was beside herself, becoming the crazed slut they were all treating her like. If Minkyu had not been completely unconscious outside, he would have easily heard her depraved confession.

By the time the most recent finisher had coated her in his semen, Yejun was still soaking his softening cock in her completely filled pussy. He finally pulled out of her, and watched with great interest as his cum began dribbling out of her freshly fucked hole.

“I’ve waited long enough. Get on your hands and knees, bitch,” ordered Brad, who impatiently grabbed her thighs and roughly twisted her around. He positioned himself behind her and plunged right into her dripping cunt. Sana screamed in delight as he fucked her relentlessly, his balls loudly slapping against her clit.

Hours passed while the assault on Sana continued. Between the six, horny opportunists, there were no breaks for her, and at any given time she had a hard cock slamming into her pussy, mouth, or both. She was treated like a common whore, tossed around the room, and bent and folded every which way as they pummeled her. Her mind had gone numb, and she’d been reduced to a fuck doll to be used however they saw fit.

The heavy scent of sweat and cum was unmistakable in the cramped trailer, and Sana was covered in both. She lost count of how many creamy loads were shot into and on her, as well as how many times she had orgasmed.

After most of the men had finally passed out or hit their limits, Sana found herself on top of Yejun, lazily grinding his fat cock while they kissed each other.

“I can’t believe you’re still so hard...” she whispered to him.

“I’m honestly shocked you’re still going, too. I think I finally met my match,” he replied.

“Ugh... I just... can’t get enough... tonight has been fucking amaz-” She was interrupted by a series of quick knocks at the door.

“Sana!? Are you in there?” Minkyu had finally woken up.

“Minkyu! I - Yeah. I got really sick and have been in the bathroom,” she explained.

He pulled at the locked door a couple times. “Let me in!”

“Uh, no babe. I’m a disgusting mess right now. I don’t want you to see me like this - Unngh...” She had stopped moving her hips in her panic, so Yejun clutched her ass in his hands and did the work for her.

“Who cares, I’m a mess too. Just let me take care of you.” Her boyfriend was determined to get to her. It was obvious that he was still quite out of it himself.

“I’m gonna - fuuuck - throw up again. Please just go back to camp. Ohh... I’ll meet you there as soon as I’m done.” The cheating girlfriend was having trouble stifling her moans as Yejun steadily increased the intensity.

“Sana, that’s stupid! C’mon...”

Yejun put his hand over her mouth, and called out to the doorway, “Don’t worry dude, she’s better off finishing up in here with a proper bathroom and stuff. I’m taking good care of her.” He punctuated his last sentence with a stern thrust upwards into her pussy. “I’m making sure she gets plenty of fluids. Get some rest man. You don’t sound so great yourself.”

“Just let me in, Yejun.” Minkyu pleaded.

Yejun replied sternly, “Minkyu. People are trying to sleep and you’re becoming a nuisance. Listen to your girlfriend and go back to your tent.”

“Yeah, b-babe. Let me finish up - Ohhh fuck - I’ll be right there. I promise,” Sana insisted, losing control of her moaning, and hoping they would be mistaken for sickly sounds.

“Fucking bull shit...” Minkyu muttered, the sounds of his uneven steps trailing off away from the door.

“Maybe I should go...” Sana whispered, feeling guilty.

Yejun ceased his movements, abruptly pausing the stimulation they had both been enjoying. Instead of answering, he took a moment to look into her eyes, studying her silently. The conflicted Sana pondered, but her instincts took over, and she started grinding into him again.

“I knew you wouldn’t be able to stop,” Yejun said proudly.

“Just shut up and fuck me,” she demanded.

“Slut...” He teased.

“Asshole,” she fired back.

“You got all riled up again. You like almost getting caught, don’t you?”

“Ngh... Maybe...”

“You know, all he’d have to do is take a quick peek around to find the rest of your clothes on the ground out there.” Yejun grinned smugly, still sitting back and watching Sana squirm around on his lap.

“Oh fuck...”

“Even then he’d probably be clueless to the fact that his sweet girlfriend is secretly a big cock slut.”

“Hnngh...”

“Spending the whole night getting passed around like a rag doll and bred by a bunch Just mere feet away from him.”

“Fuck... Yejun...” His words were driving her crazy. She was grinding him as hard as she could, but she needed more.

“God, you’re a needy little bitch,” he laughed, smacking her ass.

“AH! I need you to fuck me so hard! Right now!”

“Like Minkyu never could?”

“Ngh... Please!”

“Say it!”

“YES! You already know you fuck me way better! Now just fucking do it!”

“Admit you’re a cheating slut.”

“I’m a cheating slut! Ughhh!”

“And who do you belon-”

“I belong to you, Yejun! I’m yours! You’re better in every way! Now just please, for the love of God, fuck my slutty, little pussy!” Sana spouted everything she thought he wanted to hear, and it finally satisfied him. Yejun lifted the already impaled woman into the air, and slammed her back into the nearest wall with a crash. She could only hang onto him for dear life as he thrust into her like a caged beast.

The trailer shook back and forth wildly as Yejun gave her everything he had. Sana’s legs flailed helplessly in the air as she was smashed repeatedly against the enclosure. “YES! YES! OHHH FUUUUCK!” She screamed for him over and over, the thoughtless words being pumped out of her with each harsh jab at her cervix. Her body was electrified with immense pleasure, and her cunt was drenching Yejun’s cock with thick cream.

“I’M... GONNA... FUCKING... CUM... SO... HARD!” She squealed as her climax crashed down on her. Yejun didn’t miss a beat, and continued to pound away at her through her mind-numbing orgasm. Her pussy sprayed clear liquid violently, coating his thrusting lower half in her juices. Still, he did not let up, and she continued to cum for longer than she thought was possible. Sana felt as if she might black out, her vision blurring as he overwhelmed her.

With one last mighty thrust, Yejun bottomed out and his cock exploded. He groaned as he flooded her deepest depths with his virile seed. As he emptied the last of his balls into her, his legs began to tremble from his exertion. They both fell backwards onto the bed together, a sweaty, twisted heap of flesh. Beyond exhausted, the pair lay there in a daze, breathing heavily. His semi-hard dick still planted deep within her, they eventually dozed off.

—

Sana’s eyes opened abruptly a few hours later to the sound of aggressive knocking at the trailer door. She cursed under her breath as she regained consciousness in the midst of the depraved aftermath around her. Her naked body was draped over Yejun’s, who was still asleep. She peeled her sticky skin from his, and rose to her feet. The room was an absolute mess, evidence of the brutal gangbang wherever she looked.

“Sana? I know you’re in there. Just come out and talk to me... please,” Minkyu said from outside.

“Give me a minute, babe. I must’ve passed out on the toilet...” She looked around frantically for an idea of how to make herself half-way decent. She heard him sigh heavily as she scrambled to the bathroom, careful to not step on one of the several naked men sprawled out on the floor. Sana felt a surge of relief to find that her clothes were in a neat pile near the sink. She hastily splashed her face with water and pulled her clothes on over her soiled skin. She grabbed a towel and draped it over her shoulders in an attempt to conceal more of her body, before heading towards the door.

Sana slowly opened the door and slipped outside into the bright desert, careful not to reveal a single square-inch of the interior. Minkyu stood at the foot of the steps, looking beyond disappointed.

“I’m so sorry, Minkyu...” She said, throwing her arms around him in a tight embrace.

“Are you okay? You look horrific,” he asked, clutching her shoulders with extended arms and inspecting her.

“I’m alright now... I don’t remember much, aside from hugging the damn toilet all night,” she lied.

“Aw, me neither... I can’t believe how drunk we both got. I was so out of it.”

“Yeah...” Sana was eager to hear how much detail her boyfriend could recall, before needlessly trying to cover things up.

“I do remember being super pissed that you were locked in there. And that you guys wouldn’t let me in. They could’ve done really bad things to you, you know?”

“You’re right, babe...” Images of the wild orgy flashed through her mind. “That was not safe. I couldn’t think straight, and just wanted to be left alone. Luckily, no one laid a finger one me. I know they can be jerks, but those guys treated me very well and took care of all my needs.”

“Well that’s a relief. I just wish I could’ve been the one to take care of you...” Minkyu seemed convinced already that nothing unsavory had happened.

“I know. I wish you had been there too. I guess we both let a night of free drinks get a little out of control.” Sana felt she was finally in the clear, and could relax a bit.

“Seriously... crazy night. Did I do a body shot from your tits?” He asked, smiling.

She laughed. “I think so, yeah. That was... interesting.”

“I guess we both got to show off a little, then. The guys were probably so jealous that I got to lick your boobs and stuff,” he said proudly.

Sana couldn’t help but laugh again at the irony. “Oh, I’m sure they were. I gotta admit, it was pretty fun being basically topless for everyone. Thanks for being okay with that.” She decided to reveal a small shred of truth about her feelings, as it felt natural in that moment.

“No problem. I suppose I’m learning to be less controlling. Trying anyway. I trust you, and you deserve to cut loose and flaunt your sexy side a bit under the right circumstances.”

“Thanks babe. That’s very mature of you.” Sana could hardly believe how well the exchange was progressing.

The reunited couple turned towards the trailer in unison as the door creaked open. Yejun, shirtless as usual, stepped towards them with a wide smile.

“Hey, big guy! Sorry about last night. I think we all got more toasted than we meant to. Glad Sana’s okay. I stayed up as late as I could to make sure she was still breathing. No hard feelings?” He extended a hand towards Minkyu, who shook it without hesitation.

“No worries, man. My bad for getting all... shitty... towards you. I was just concerned about her. Anyway, thanks for looking out for her.”

“Happy to do it. It was a damn fun night overall. You guys are welcome to party with us any time. We’ll be heading out soon, so feel free to move your stuff and claim the spot for yourselves.”

“Thanks, Yejun,” Minkyu said.

Yejun started back up the steps, and then added, “Oh! Sana, I think you left something of yours in the bathroom.”

“Oh woops. Be right back, babe.” Sana climbed up the steps and hurried inside behind him.

The second they were out of Minkyu’s line of sight, Yejun grabbed her wrist and pulled her into him. He held her tightly in his strong arms as they kissed ferociously. Their hands clawed at each other’s bodies as their tongues swirled together. Sana wrapped a leg around him, and broke the kiss, staring into his blue eyes.

“Will I ever see you again?” She whispered.

“Of course, you will.” He stuffed a small strip of paper into her cleavage, and pecked her with his lips on her soft chest and up the length of her neck. He let go of her finally and patted her ass. “Till next time. Don’t forget what you are.”

“Your slut.” Sana smiled at Yejun one last time, before exiting the trailer and joining her boyfriend.

[sunsetmade]

Rumored Heartbreak

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: After Ruthie makes her believe her relationship with Rafe was all a bet— she runs. But Rafe catches up.

She had only just started seeing Rafe—barely two weeks ago. It was new, a little strange, but in a way that kept her curious. Nice, even. Fun in a way she hadn’t expected from him of all people.

Because Rafe Cameron wasn’t exactly known for being soft. He had a reputation that stretched longer than his shadow—fights, flings, short tempers, and even shorter attachments. He was the kind of guy people whispered warnings about, especially to girls like her. Sweet girls. Trusting girls. The kind of girl who always tried to see the best in people, even when it was buried under layers of smoke and sharp edges.

But this version of Rafe was… different.

He stayed up with her at night, texting until their phones overheated and the sun started to rise. Not just surface-level stuff either—real conversations. He remembered things she told him. Asked follow-up questions the next day like he actually cared, like he wanted to know what made her nervous or excited or sad. And when she rambled—about books, or her favorite kind of music, or random childhood stories—he didn’t tune out. He listened. Really listened, eyes on her like she was saying something that mattered.

And maybe that was what caught her off guard the most.

Because people didn’t believe it. Not her friends. Not even strangers who’d overheard his name. They all said the same thing: Rafe Cameron didn’t do real feelings. He didn’t get attached. He partied, he played, and he left.

They didn’t believe the soft glances he gave her could mean anything. Told her he was probably bored or playing a game or waiting for her to fall first so he could disappear like he always did.

But when he pulled her in a little closer during their late-night talks, when he looked at her like she was something fragile he didn’t want to break—she believed him.

It felt real.

Seemed real.

And maybe that was reckless. But she didn’t question it. Not yet.

The sharp buzz of her phone cut through the quiet, pulling her from a light sleep. She blinked groggily at the screen, disoriented for a second, then fumbled to answer as it rang again.

“Hello?” she murmured, voice still laced with sleep as she brought the phone to her ear.

His voice came through, smooth and familiar. “Were you asleep?”

Her spine straightened instinctively, a sleepy smile tugging at her lips. “No. Why?”

Rafe chuckled—low and amused. “Pretty sure you were. I called you twice and got ignored. Sounds like nap time to me, pretty girl.”

She rolled her eyes, biting back a grin. “Okay, maybe I was. Barely. What’s it to you?”

“Just makin’ sure I’m not boring you already,” he said, clearly grinning on the other end.

She looked down at her hands, admiring the fresh paint on her nails, and tucked her feet under her on the couch. “You’re not. You’re just calling at the most inconvenient times.”

He made a thoughtful sound, the kind she’d already learned meant he was choosing his words carefully. “So what you’re saying is I should’ve come over instead of calling.”

Her laugh was soft. “You would’ve woken me up either way.”

A pause.

Then his tone shifted—still him, still confident, but a little more careful now. “Hey, uh… there’s this dinner thing tonight. At my house.”

She perked up slightly, surprised by the change in energy. “Dinner?”

“Yeah. Just some of the boys, their girls, nothing huge. My dad’s making a whole thing of it, I don’t know. But…” He exhaled, the faintest hint of hesitation in his voice. “I thought maybe you’d come.”

Her heart skipped. Not just because he was inviting her into his world, but because for a second—just a second—he sounded nervous. And Rafe Cameron didn’t get nervous.

“You want me to meet your friends?” she teased gently, but the blush was already creeping into her cheeks.

He scoffed, but it lacked his usual bite. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?” she grinned.

“Like I’m soft or something.”

She let the moment breathe, heart fluttering. “I’d love to go, Rafe.”

Silence hung for a second, almost like he was caught off guard. Then he cleared his throat. “Cool. Yeah. I’ll pick you up around seven.”

“Cool,” she echoed, still smiling when the line went quiet.

And even after the call ended, she sat there for a moment—phone still in hand, nails still drying, butterflies doing laps in her stomach. Rafe Cameron wasn’t soft, not with most people. But maybe that was starting to change.

⸻

As Rafe’s truck eased into the long, winding driveway, her stomach twisted. The house—more like a statement piece perched on the edge of the island—was already lit up and buzzing with movement. Music thumped from somewhere inside, and the soft glow of string lights danced off the parked luxury cars lining the property.

People were already milling about the porch and spilling out onto the front lawn—men in stiff button-ups talking with glasses of bourbon, girls with glossy lips and fake laughs, and groups that clearly knew each other in a way that made her feel immediately out of place.

She inhaled slowly, trying to hide the nerves pulsing beneath her skin.

Rafe stepped out first, rounding the truck to her side and opening the door with ease. Always smooth. Always collected. That signature half-smile was already plastered on his face—his “showtime” look, the one he wore when he had to be the version of himself people expected.

He reached for her hand, linking their fingers casually as if to anchor her as they walked in.

The house smelled like cologne, catered food, and money. Laughter echoed through the open rooms. There were faces she recognized from magazines, from news articles, from whispered gossip—but none she knew.

She stayed close behind Rafe as he navigated the crowd effortlessly, greeting people with nods and sharp grins, tossing a quick joke here and there. She could feel the eyes on her. Curious. Judgmental. Measuring. She wasn’t wearing anything special—just a simple dress and her best attempt at looking polished—but she suddenly felt like a fish out of water.

Then she spotted her—Ruthie.

Leaning against the wall, red cup in hand, that smug grin already pulling at her mouth the moment she laid eyes on them.

It wasn’t friendly.

It wasn’t welcoming.

It was the kind of grin that made her pulse tick up—like she knew something she didn’t.

Her fingers tightened slightly around Rafe’s, but he didn’t notice. Or if he did, he didn’t show it.

He led her into the living room, where a few people were lounging with drinks and music played low in the background. With a gentle tug, he gestured for her to sit on the edge of the deep leather couch.

“I’m gonna go grab us some drinks, alright?” he said, voice low, like it was just for her. His thumb brushed against the back of her hand before slipping away.

“Stay here?”

She nodded, even though her stomach gave a little dip at the idea of being left alone in a room full of strangers.

“Be right back,” Rafe promised, flashing her one last grin before disappearing into the crowd like he belonged there—because he did.

She exhaled slowly, running her hands down the front of her thighs as if trying to shake off the nerves. Her eyes flicked around the room, scanning for a familiar face. There was none.

The cushion beside her shifted slightly, dipping under someone’s weight. She barely registered it at first, still trying to settle the nerves in her stomach, until a voice broke the silence beside her.

“Hey,” the girl said casually. “You’re Rafe’s… well, you’re with Rafe, right?”

She blinked and turned her head, offering a hesitant smile when she realized it was Ruthie. Topper’s girlfriend. Always perfectly dressed, always perfectly smug.

“Uh—yeah,” she replied, unsure where the conversation was headed. “I came with him.”

Ruthie tilted her head, her glossy lips curving into a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. It was sweet, but too sweet—like candy laced with something bitter.

“That’s what I thought,” she said, her voice light but laced with something she couldn’t quite place. “So how’s that going? What’s it been—like, a month?”

She shifted uncomfortably, brushing invisible lint off her dress to keep her hands busy. “It’s going good. Almost a month, yeah.”

She tried to sound friendly—open, even. Maybe this was Ruthie’s way of being nice. Maybe she just wanted to talk. Might as well make some friends while she’s here.

But Ruthie just gave a soft, humming laugh and leaned back against the couch like she’d just been let in on a private joke.

“If I didn’t already know about the game him and Topper have going on…” Ruthie paused, eyes scanning her face like she was watching for a reaction, “I would’ve thought he was, like, head over heels for you.”

Ruthie laughed again, but this time it was low and chilling—like she was amused by something only she could see.

The words didn’t make sense at first. They hung in the air for a second too long, sticky and cold, like a drink spilled down her back. Her brows furrowed as she tilted her head, trying to make sense of Ruthie’s strange tone.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, her voice laced with confusion. “I—I don’t know what you mean?”

Her eyes searched Ruthie’s face, hoping for a smile, a laugh, something to suggest it was a misunderstanding. But Ruthie just looked back at her with that same unreadable expression—half amused, half pitying. Something about it made her stomach twist.

Ruthie smiled, but it wasn’t kind. It was sharp at the edges, like she enjoyed watching her squirm. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, tone light like they were discussing something casual—harmless. But the words that followed hit anything but soft.

“You know…” Ruthie began, drawing it out like she was savoring it. “The bet that the two of them have going on? Rafe and Topper?”

She blinked, not following.

Ruthie tilted her head, eyebrows raised like she was surprised she had to explain. “To see how many girls Rafe can get to fall in love with him.”

Silence.

For a moment, the noise of the party faded. The music, the laughter, the crackle of the fire—all of it turned into a distant hum in the background. Her heart was suddenly loud in her ears.

Ruthie shrugged one shoulder, like it was no big deal. “I mean, I’m honestly surprised you haven’t told him you know yet. Most girls figure out it’s not worth their time.”

Her chest tightened. She blinked again, but this time it was slower, like she was trying to reset reality. “Wait… what?” she whispered, her throat tightening. “What are you talking about?”

The word bet echoed in her mind, over and over, like it didn’t belong there. Like it had no place near the version of Rafe she knew—the one who rubbed circles into her back when she was nervous, who whispered compliments just loud enough for her to hear, who kissed the inside of her wrist like it meant something.

Ruthie leaned in a little, voice lower now. “You really didn’t know?” she said, with a glint of something cruel in her eye. “Rafe made this whole thing with Topper, like… months ago. Some stupid game to prove he could get any girl to fall for him. Doesn’t matter who she is. How sweet she is. How real she thinks it all feels.”

Her stomach dropped. Cold swept over her skin. “That’s not—” she started, but her voice cracked before she could finish.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong,” Ruthie went on, like she was doing her a favor. “You’re the longest one yet. So, props for that. I think you might actually be winning him the whole thing.”

Ruthie was still talking, but her voice had become a distant hum—background noise to the way her world suddenly tilted. The living room seemed to blur around her, the laughter and music muffled beneath the roar of her own heartbeat pounding in her ears.

A bet?

Her mind reeled. Every look Rafe had given her. Every lingering touch. The way he whispered her name like it meant something. Like she meant something.

All of it… fake?

A tightness gripped her chest as realization hit. None of it had been real. Not the quiet drives, not the way he tucked her hair behind her ear, not the way he smiled when she laughed. It was all part of some sick game—another round in whatever twisted competition he and Topper were playing.

Money. Pride. Ego.

Not her.

Not them.

“I—I’m sorry,” she breathed, voice trembling as she rose to her feet, legs unsteady beneath her. “I need to leave.”

She didn’t wait for a response. The room spun as she pushed through the crowd, her hands trembling, eyes burning. She didn’t even realize she’d started crying until the cool night air hit her skin and tears slipped down her cheeks.

The front yard was dimly lit, but she welcomed the quiet. The heavy bass of the party dulled behind her as the door shut, leaving her alone with the crashing weight of betrayal.

Her hand instinctively reached for her phone, desperate for comfort—something familiar, something safe. But when the screen stayed black, her stomach dropped. Dead.

Of course.

She cursed under her breath, pressing her fingers to her eyes for a moment to hold herself together. She’d ridden here with Rafe. The one person she couldn’t face right now. The one person she’d trusted.

She scanned the street, thinking quickly. Her friend lived in a neighborhood not far from here—ten minutes by foot, maybe less if she walked fast.

Heels dangling from her fingers, she padded barefoot down the driveway, gravel biting into her skin with each step. She didn’t care. Not about the dirt on her dress or the chill in the air or the tears still falling.

She just had to get away.

From the house.

From the party.

From him.

From the lie she’d been living without even knowing.

⸻

Rafe weaved through the crowd, careful not to spill the two drinks balanced in his hands. The music thumped around him, bodies brushing past as people danced and talked, but his mind was somewhere else—on her.

A soft smile tugged at his lips, rare and unguarded. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this light, this grounded. She was different. She didn’t flinch at his past or look at him like a ticking bomb. She laughed with him. Talked to him like he mattered. For once, it felt like he didn’t have to perform.

He stepped into the living room, expecting to see her curled up where he’d left her on the couch, maybe talking with someone or scanning the room with that quiet curiosity he found so damn adorable. But the spot was empty.

Rafe’s smile slowly faded.

He blinked, shifting the cups in his hands, then turned, scanning the room. Maybe she got up to use the bathroom. Maybe she ran into someone she knew. But a strange knot started to form in his chest as he checked the kitchen, then the hallway, then the stairwell. No sign of her.

His pace quickened, shoes thudding softly against the hardwood as he made his way through the house.

He pushed open the sliding door to the back porch and spotted Kelce and Topper standing in a cluster near the railing, beers in hand, talking with Ruthie. He walked over, the red Solo cups still in his grasp.

“Hey,” Rafe called, voice steady but clipped. “Have you guys seen her? She was just—” He glanced back at the house. “She was just inside.”

Kelce shook his head. “Haven’t seen her, bro.”

Topper mirrored him. “Nah, she dipped?”

But Ruthie let out a quiet, smug little laugh that made the hairs on the back of Rafe’s neck stand up.

“Oh, she left,” she said casually, swirling her drink. “Guess she finally figured it out.”

Rafe narrowed his eyes. “Figured what out?”

Ruthie shrugged like it was obvious. “The bet, Rafe. The one you idiots made? To see how many girls you could get to fall for you? You know—the one you’re winning.”

Rafe’s brows furrowed. “What the hell are you talking about?” His voice was sharp now, the drinks in his hands suddenly feeling like dead weight.

She rolled her eyes, tone airy. “Don’t play dumb. She knows. I might’ve mentioned it. Oops.”

For a second, Rafe just stared at Ruthie, expression unreadable, like he couldn’t quite process what she’d just said. Then, slowly, he turned to Topper—his eyes narrowing when he saw the guilty look already plastered across his friend’s face.

“What is she talking about?” Rafe asked, voice low but laced with sharp agitation. “What bet?”

Topper sighed and dragged a hand through his hair, visibly squirming. “Look, man—don’t freak out, alright? But I… I might’ve told Ruthie that me and you had this bet going. To see who could pull the most girls.”

The silence that followed was heavy.

Rafe’s jaw tightened, a muscle ticking as he took a step back, his grip on the solo cups tightening until the plastic crinkled. “Why the fuck would you say that?”

Topper rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding Rafe’s eyes. “So she’d start going out with me,” he mumbled. “Dude, she wasn’t taking me seriously. I thought if she thought we were playing around, maybe she’d let her guard down.”

Rafe stayed silent for a couple of seconds, letting Toppers words register. His chest heaved as the weight of it sank in. The girl he’d been falling for—hell, maybe even in love with—had left his house tonight thinking she was just another name on some imaginary scoreboard. All because Topper wanted to impress someone.

“You better pray she lets me explain,” Rafe muttered under his breath, eyes still locked on the front door. “Because if she doesn’t…I swear to God, man…”

He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t have to.

Without another word, he shoved the untouched drinks into Topper’s hands and stormed off through the house, heart pounding, desperately hoping it wasn’t too late.

⸻

Her feet throbbed with every step, the unforgiving pavement digging into her soles. She hadn’t realized just how long the walk would be—or how painful. Blisters had already started to form, and she hadn’t even made it out of the neighborhood. Her heels dangled uselessly from her fingers, no match for the jagged road beneath her, and every breath came out shakier than the last.

Tears slipped down her cheeks, hot and silent. She didn’t bother wiping them away. Embarrassment burned in her chest, tangled up with anger and something even heavier—shame. Everyone had warned her. Everyone. And she hadn’t listened. She had wanted to believe he was different. That Rafe was different.

A sudden, cold drop landed on her shoulder. She froze, tilting her head up to the sky just in time for another to splatter across her cheek. Then another. And another. Within seconds, a soft rain had started to fall, peppering her skin, her arms, her bare, aching feet.

She let out a disbelieving huff, the sound breaking halfway into a sob. Of course. Because somehow, heartbreak wasn’t enough—it had to rain, too. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to shield against the chill, but it was no use. The tears kept coming, blending with the rain, soaking into her hair and slipping down her neck.

She felt stupid. Used. And worst of all, completely alone.

Cars zoomed past her, their headlights blinding and cruel in the rain, casting fleeting shadows across her soaked frame. Her steps had slowed to a miserable shuffle, the pavement digging into her her blistered feet. Every part of her ached—physically, emotionally. All she wanted now was to disappear, or at the very least, be home. Be with him.

But that wasn’t an option anymore. Not after everything.

Another engine grew louder behind her, creeping closer than the rest. She instinctively shifted to the very edge of the road, expecting it to pass like the others. But it didn’t.

The car came to an abrupt stop, tires hissing on the wet asphalt.

The door flew open with force and slammed shut again almost immediately. Her heart stuttered in her chest as she turned, eyes wide, breath caught in her throat.

It was him.

He was storming toward her, his strides long and urgent, a mixture of panic and sorrow carved into every angle of his face. His jaw was tight, clenched so hard it looked like it hurt, and his suit jacket—once perfectly tailored and dry—was now completely soaked, clinging to his frame as the rain poured harder.

“Are you kidding me right now?” he barked, not with anger, but with fear—fear layered beneath his voice like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “What the hell are you thinking, walking out here like this?”

Before she could answer, his hands were already on her, pulling her into his chest like he couldn’t stand the space between them for even a second longer. His grip was tight, too tight, but she didn’t move. Not yet. Not when it felt so good to be wrapped up in him—even if it was just for a moment.

And then the moment broke.

She started to cry again, shoulders shaking, her sobs barely muffled against his shirt. The pain in her chest swelled because she knew this—this—wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.

With trembling hands, she shoved against him, creating space where warmth had just been.

“Don’t do that,” she choked out. “Don’t pretend, Rafe. Don’t pretend you care about me.”

The words hit him like a slap, and he staggered back half a step, blinking through the rain that streamed down his face. He looked at her like she’d just taken the air out of his lungs.

“Don’t pretend?” he echoed, breathless. “You think I’m pretending?”

His voice cracked, just slightly, as he stepped closer again, slower this time—like he was afraid she’d disappear if he moved too fast.

“I care about you,” he said, low and rough. “I care about you so fucking much it makes me feel insane sometimes. And whatever Ruthie said—whatever bullshit about some bet or game—it’s not true. It was never true.”

His hand twitched at his side like he wanted to reach for her again, but didn’t know if he was allowed to anymore. His eyes searched her face with quiet desperation.

“I would never do that to you,” he said, voice breaking. “Not you.”

She shook her head, backing away from him, the cold rain soaking her clothes and hair until she was trembling. “I heard her, Rafe. I heard everything,” she whispered, voice cracking. “You don’t have to lie.”

But Rafe didn’t flinch. He stepped toward her again, hands out like he was scared she’d disappear if he moved too fast. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, breaths shallow like he’d been running. Maybe he had. “You didn’t hear me,” he said, softer now. “You heard Ruthie twist shit like she always does. But you didn’t hear me say it, because I didn’t. I never said anything like that.”

She looked down, arms still crossed tightly over her chest. Her lip quivered and the ache in her throat grew heavier. “Why would she say it then? Why would she—why would anyone think it was a joke? That I was a joke?”

Rafe looked like he was in pain—like the words themselves had hit him. His jaw clenched again, but not in anger this time. In guilt. “Because people suck,” he said, almost brokenly. “Because I never should’ve brought you around them. I should’ve known better. I should’ve protected you.”

She let out a bitter laugh, tears still streaking down her cheeks, mixing with the rain.

His face twisted like he wanted to argue but couldn’t. He dragged a hand down his face, pushing wet hair off his forehead. “You have no idea how much I care about you,” he said again, more desperate now. “You think I’d chase you down in the middle of a storm if this was a game to me?”

She chewed on her lip looking down. His hand landing on her waist pulling her closer.

“And if I had—if I had heard her say that shit to your face, I swear to God I would’ve lost it. I would’ve. You know me.”

She blinked, hesitating. She did know him. She knew that flash in his eyes. She knew the unfiltered honesty in his voice when he was like this—raw, heart on his sleeve, drenched in rain but still more focused on her than anything else.

“I don’t care about Ruthie,” he said, stepping even closer now, gently wrapping his hands around her arms. “I care about you. I’ve never brought anyone into my world the way I brought you in, and maybe that’s why they didn’t take it seriously. But I did. I do. I fucked up not noticing sooner, but don’t tell me I don’t care. Because I do. So much that I can’t even think straight when you’re not okay.”

She looked up at him through soaked lashes, her heart pounding, unsure if it was from anger or sadness or the overwhelming relief threatening to crack through her.

He exhaled shakily, brushing a wet strand of hair from her face. “Please don’t walk away from me like this.”

She sniffled, her lip trembling as fresh tears welled in her eyes, and before she could talk herself out of it, she threw her arms around his neck and held him like she never wanted to let go. Like he was home.

Rafe didn’t hesitate—his arms wrapped tightly around her waist, pulling her into him with a desperation that matched her own. His suit jacket was soaked through, rain clinging to every inch of them, but he didn’t seem to care. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling the scent of her through the storm. She still smelled like something soft and warm—like comfort—even in the middle of all this mess.

“I’m not walking away from you,” she whispered after a long, shaky moment, her breath brushing his ear.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to see her face, and she rested both hands gently on either side of his jaw. Her palms were cold, but her touch was tender, grounding him. Her thumbs brushed along his cheeks as she looked up at him, eyes wide and sincere.

“I believe you,” she said softly, her voice thick with emotion. “And I’m sorry… for running. For not asking you. I should’ve talked to you—”

“Don’t apologize,” he cut her off gently, shaking his head as his hands slid to the small of her back. “You were hurt. I should’ve protected you from all of that before it even got to you. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

His voice was hoarse, low and rough from the lump in his throat. The space between them buzzed with everything unsaid. Her fingers tightened slightly on his face, eyes flicking from his to his lips—just once, just enough to make his heart stutter.

And then he leaned in.

Slow at first, like he was giving her the chance to pull away. But she didn’t—she only leaned up to meet him halfway, her breath catching as his mouth finally pressed to hers.

It wasn’t rushed. It was gentle, aching, full of emotion that neither of them had been able to put into words. Her hands slid into his damp hair, and his grip on her tightened like he was afraid she’d disappear again.

There, in the middle of the rain-soaked road, under the gray sky and headlights of his still-running car, they kissed like they meant it. Like it wasn’t fake. Like it had never been a question.

And now it never would be.

[roosterforme]

Explicitly Yours | Bob Floyd x Reader

Summary: When Bob met you, he fell for you hard and fast. He thought you might be his perfect match, the one that would make his days feel full instead of lonely. He never would have dreamed you had a secret. But secrets are known to be revealed at the most inconvenient of times, and Bob's surprised hesitation could cost him the thing he wants most.

Warnings: Smut, oral, fluff, angst, misogyny, language, mentions of adult film industry

Length: 11k words (what have I done?)

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Former Pornstar!Female Reader

This was written for International Bob Floyd Fucks Month hosted by @attapullman. Check my masterlist for more! Banner by @thedroneranger

Bob was fresh off of a long deployment when he returned to work at North Island on Monday morning to find he would begin training as part of a new taskforce. He was tired and antsy, still overstimulated from being around so many people on the aircraft carrier, but he was also realizing how lonely he was. 

He'd arrived back to a sterile, empty, dusty apartment, slept for two days, and now he was back to work. He couldn't even have a cat or a houseplant. He really would like to have a cat or a houseplant. Mostly he thought about how nice it would be to have a girlfriend. A sweet one who would wait for him to return home so his apartment didn't feel so sad. One who didn't mind that sometimes he preferred it to be quiet. One who would let him dote on her a little bit when he was home.

When he was told to report to Classroom Six in his uniform instead of the tarmac in his flight suit, Bob knew it was going to be a long day. That idea only grew as soon as he walked in and was accosted by his friends. "You're back!" Natasha screeched, streaking across the room like a brunette cannonball and slamming into his arms. "It's not even fair that we weren't deployed together. I missed you!"

"Missed you too, Nat. Thanks for all the emails."

Then he felt Bradley, Jake and Javy all jostling him around until his glasses were crooked on his face. That's probably why he did a double take when he saw you. There was no way you were that beautiful. His glasses must need to be adjusted on his face. But he was wrong. You looked the same after he pushed his wire frames back into place. 

He swallowed hard and whispered, "Who's that?"

The guys all looked at him with matching smirks, and Javy told him your name. "Civilian. She's Warlock's new assistant. Got reassigned from a different department last week."

"She's real cute," Jake added. "And she looks so familiar."

"Why does she look so familiar?" Bradley asked, and Bob realized that the whole group was staring at you where you were conversing quietly with Warlock. "We've been trying to figure it out for a week."

You didn't look familiar to Bob. You just looked pretty with bright eyes and a friendly smile, both of which were trained on him now. Of course you were looking his way now, because everyone had mussed up his hair and wrinkled his uniform. He didn't mind so much that you caught him staring, because you were the kind of woman who must get that a lot.

"Lieutenant Floyd," Admiral Bates said as he stood, and Bob saluted his superior officer immediately. "Welcome back."

"Sir," Bob replied, doing his best not to let his gaze drift back to you. "Thank you."

Then Warlock called the room to order, and Bob ended up sitting in the front row, directly across from you. Barely six feet away. You were so pretty, it wasn't even funny. The curve of your face and your neck and the way you moved were mesmerizing. Smooth and fluid. Confident. Beautiful. You kept Warlock on task and seemed to have all the pertinent information about the class memorized. But all of it was lost on Bob, because he was way too distracted. 

By lunchtime, he had sweat through his undershirt, and he was sure his uniform shirt wasn't looking much better. The way you turned to look directly at him with a slightly guarded expression when you stood made him blush. It must be obvious to you that Bob couldn't keep his eyes off your face.

"Hi," you greeted. "Lieutenant Floyd."

Bob swallowed hard before something that sounded vaguely like Hello came out of his mouth. 

Your smile was tinged with a little sadness as you stuck out your hand. "I've been looking forward to meeting the last team member. Welcome back from deployment, Lieutenant."

And then you were walking away, but Bob was still sweating.

--------------------------

For the next four days, Bob got there early to ensure he had that same front row seat. He had a full blown crush. Heart pounding, palms damp, unable to focus on anything other than his crush on you. When he wasn't at work looking right at you, he was daydreaming about you. When he wasn't daydreaming about you, he was asleep and having actual dreams where you were his girlfriend. In one of them, you gave him a back massage, and he woke up with an erection. 

He could barely even look at you for the nauseous feeling that took up residence just below his pounding heart, but he couldn't look anywhere else. He'd never been like this before. Sure, he'd been attracted to many women in the past, but this was something else entirely. 

"But why is she so familiar looking?" Jake asked Bradley at lunch. "You sure you didn't fuck her?"

"Oh, I think I'd remember fucking someone that looked like that," Bradley replied with a chuckle. "Wait... did you fuck her?"

"I don't think so?" Jake replied, looking a little panicked. "She's not the one I went home with on my birthday, is she? Because you know I can't remember that night. And if I fucked her and can't remember it, then I deserve to be executed."

They both erupted into laughter with Javy, and Bob felt deflated. One of the three of them was definitely going to ask you out sooner rather than later, and instead of getting an occasional guarded glance in his direction, Bob would have nothing.

That night at the bar, he sat with his cup of peanuts and talked with Nat about work while everyone else played pool. "I guess we have another week or two of lectures ahead of us, but I can't wait to get back in the air."

"Yeah," Bob replied, glancing around the room in case the Hard Deck was your Friday night scene. It wasn't really his, but he came for his friends. And if he got to spend another week or two in the classroom, he wasn't going to complain; there would be no way for him to look at you when he was in the cockpit. 

"Bob!" Javy called as if he'd been trying to get his attention for a few minutes. He was waving a pool cue. "Take over for me. I need to go shoot my shot."

As Bob stood, he watched Javy head off into the crowd toward a woman who looked like you. He did a double take, his heart leaping up into his throat as Bradley started to push him closer to the pool table. Javy saw you. He was going to ask you out. A feeling of devastation filled his lungs, but then the woman turned around, and it wasn't you. Her smile wasn't nearly as pretty, and she didn't have the same eyes. 

Relieved, Bob sank the seven ball before running the table like he was some sort of pro. But he knew deep inside that he was going to have to ask you out himself or miss out on even having a chance with you. 

Every day the following week, he tried to give himself a pep talk. He could do this. Even if you said no, it would be fine. It would be good practice for him. But he knew it would not be okay. He liked the sound of your voice and the way you moved, and he thought about you in every room of his apartment doing a wide variety of things. Some of them made him blush.

He couldn't tell if it would be worse to never even try or to have to live with himself after you looked at him and said you weren't interested. At least if he kept things quiet, the guys couldn't find a way to make fun of him. And although they all liked to talk about you at lunch, to his knowledge, none of them had asked you on a date. Maybe they were as intimidated as him.

On Wednesday, you dropped your pen, and Bob picked it up for you. He got a "Thanks, Lieutenant Floyd," in response along with a cautious smile. Then on Thursday, he helped you move the projector before class started, and you said, "Thanks. You're a lot stronger than I am." He felt like he floated to his seat after that. 

On Friday, disaster struck. You were organizing your stack of notes at the end of the day when Bob stood. But then Bradley was there, leaning on the table in front of you after everyone had been dismissed. "Hey, so the guys and I were wondering if you ever made it out to the Hard Deck on Friday nights? I'd love to buy you a drink."

Bob nearly collapsed back into his seat as he watched your eyes searching Bradley's face like you were trying to tell if he was lying. "No, actually. I play Dungeons & Dragons most Friday nights."

A strangled sound escaped Bob. "You play D&D?" he asked before he could think better of it. 

"Yeah," you replied easily, giving him a little smile. "Been into it for years."

"Me too," he added, and you set down everything you'd been holding. 

"It must be hard to be part of a campaign when you deploy on occasion?" you asked, and Bob was convinced he wouldn't notice if a freight train was about to hit him. 

He nodded and took a step closer, watching you stand up. "It can be, yeah. But I've been in the same campaign for a few years, so I'd like to think I'm an integral enough part of it that everyone else doesn't mind waiting for me."

You laughed. It was so pretty. "I'm sure they don't mind one bit, Lieutenant Floyd."

"You can call me Bob," he blurted out, eyes going wide as you licked your lips and grinned. 

"Okay. Bob."

He could do this. He was already part way there, he thought. Just a little further. "Maybe you and I could get coffee this weekend and talk about our characters?"

When he was met with silence and your softly parted lips, he wanted to disappear. But your expression was trained on his face, and even though you still seemed a little hesitant, you asked, "Like a date? Because I'm free on Sunday."

-------------------------

You were laughing so hard, you had to set your coffee cup down next to your scone, and Bob was basking in the sound of it. "No, Bob! That's why I made my character a Rogue! Because I could never be such a scoundrel in real life!" He just listened to your laughter taper off while he grinned in the middle of the crowded cafe where you only seemed to be focused on him. 

"Well, that's why I made mine a Sorcerer. I don't know if you knew this about me, but I can't actually cast spells."

You started to laugh again. "Could have fooled me." But he must have been looking at you for too long, because you brought your hand up to your lips and asked, "Do I have crumbs on my face or something?"

"No, your face is perfect," he replied without considering his words, but your look of slightly embarrassed delight outweighed the tinge of mortification he felt.

You searched his eyes, seemingly always trying to gauge his sincerity. Then you surprised him when you said, "You're really sweet. It's refreshing." 

Bob looked down at his hands, unsure how to respond but pleased nonetheless. "Will you let me take you to a movie? Or dinner? Or both?"

"Yes."

The following morning at work, you were as focused on Bob as he was on you. The sweaty palms and erratically beating heart were back, only exacerbated by your alluring gaze and the promise of a second date on Thursday night. You agreed to dinner at an Italian restaurant, and Bob was already excited. 

"Why are you acting so strange?" Nat asked at lunchtime. "You're like both weirdly quiet and also talking so much?"

Bob laughed and said, "I went out on a date yesterday." And when he said it was with you, her eyes went wide. "We're going out again on Thursday."

"Bob!" she gasped, and now all of the guys were looking at him, and there was no way he would ever recover from this as Nat told them he got coffee with you.

"Welcome to the big leagues, buddy," Jake drawled, while Bradley glared at him. "Just wish I could figure out why she seems so familiar. Like it's just stuck in the back of my mind somehow. Like I know her."

"None of you know her as well as Bob does," Nat said with a laugh that made him smile. Before you and he parted ways at the coffee shop, you'd squeezed his hand in your smaller one, and it was already one of the sexiest moments of his life.

"Fuck you, Bob," Bradley grumbled. 

But it didn't matter. Bob really liked you and the fact that you talked about your Dungeons & Dragons character for a full hour. And your pretty face and your laugh. And the way you seemed interested in what he had to say. You were checking off all of the boxes for him. Smart, funny, kind of nerdy, interesting. He wondered how many dates he should take you on before asking you to be his girlfriend.

On Wednesday, as soon as Warlock dismissed everyone, you handed Bob a folded up note.

I can't wait for dinner tomorrow night. Here's my number.

He waited until he was home and sitting on his couch before he texted you. Less than a minute later, you responded. And that's how he spent the rest of his night. He didn't even eat until after nine, too wrapped up in what you had to say. Those intrusive thoughts and daydreams and real dreams about you in his apartment were starting to seem like they could be a reality. That's what he wanted. He could already picture you on the couch, wrapped up in the afghan his mom made, watching a movie with him. Or in his kitchen, helping him make dinner. 

He fell asleep on the couch in his uniform, too absorbed in this conversation to even go to bed properly. But that was fine, because suddenly it was Thursday, and not only would he see you all day at work, he'd get to eat with you and learn more about you.

Once again, Bob slid into that front row seat, and you had to work at keeping the smile from your face all morning. When you did look his way, he felt his breath catch in his throat. He was sure he'd pass out if you kissed him, and suddenly that was the only thing he could think about. Warlock talked about aggressive maneuvering, and Bob thought about your lips. Warlock talked about safety protocols, and Bob thought about your lips touching his.

It would be a miracle if he made it through dinner, but he had to try. You stood and started walking out of the classroom at the end of the day, but you turned back and said, "I'll meet you there at 7:30."

Bob offered to pick you up, but you said you'd drive yourself, and now he had more than two hours to kill. He took a long shower and fixed his hair before dressing in the outfit that Nat had pre-approved for him. He made sure his glasses were straight and that he had his credit card. The only other thing he could do was hope the conversation would come as easily for him this time, as it had over coffee.

He shouldn't have been worried about that. What he should have been worried about was the way his heart stopped when you walked through the front doors of the restaurant and directly for him, wearing a pretty blue dress with your face all made up like he was someone to impress. 

"Hi, Bob," you whispered. Then you kissed his cheek at the same time that he started to turn his head, and his lips nudged yours. He stood there shocked as you slipped your hand into his, and you started to tug him toward the waiting table when his name was called. 

His ears didn't stop burning the whole night. His brain kept circling back to the idea of another kiss. An intentional one. A kiss after a second date was not something he'd ever attempted before, but he was going to do it tonight. Based on the way you were looking at him, he had to. 

"Do you want more wine?" you asked, holding up the bottle. 

"Yes, please," he replied, because that would definitely help his cause. 

You smiled as you poured him some. "You have lovely manners." When you set the bottle down, you added, "And really pretty eyes."

Bob counted to three and then said, "I know we didn't even eat dessert yet, but I really like you. And tomorrow is your D&D night, but maybe you'll let me take you to a movie on Saturday?"

After dinner, in the parking lot next to your car, Bob kissed you. Intentionally. The first tilt of his head was hesitant, and when his lips met yours, he started to get nervous and pull away. But you let your fingers tangle in his hair, and you chased him for another kiss. "Which movie are we seeing?" you asked as you rubbed your nose gently along his.

"You can pick," he replied before kissing you again. "I just want to be around you." And then his hands found the small of your back and you inched yourself closer until your chest was touching his and your knee was bumping his leg.

You were smiling when he finally pulled his face away from yours. "I'll text you my address and the movie I want to see."

Bob smiled, too. "And then I'll pick you up, and we can go to the theater."

This was probably the best week of his life. He watched you pull out of the parking lot, and you waved to him through your window after you blew him a kiss. He went home and thought about what he might be able to cook for date number four. Perhaps you'd want to do the movie on Saturday and then have dinner at his place on Sunday? He'd figure it out. Either way, he was excited for more. 

"A third date?" Nat asked on Friday when everyone was taking a break in the classroom. "Damn, Bob." 

He eyed you where you stood talking quietly with Warlock, and you glanced his way, a soft smile on your lips. "I really like her. She's different. In a good way. And she makes me feel comfortable."

Nat rubbed his back in slow circles. "Make sure you put your arm around her during the movie. She might be expecting it. But if she doesn't snuggle against you, then you should remove it."

He nodded and swallowed. "Right. I can do that. Is it too soon to invite her over to my apartment for dinner?"

"I don't think so," she replied softly. "And maybe you should buy some condoms."

Bob's cheeks immediately flushed, but he didn't mind too much, since it was just Nat. "I don't think I'm ready for that yet."

"She seems sweet. Just tell her what you're feeling when the time comes."

Now everything was making Bob a little nervous as he drove through your neighborhood on Saturday night. He passed modern beachfront house after modern beachfront house, and then his GPS told him he had arrived. He saw your car in the driveway, but the house was gorgeous and must be worth a ton of money. Maybe you had a roommate? 

He parked his old truck and headed up the sidewalk with butterflies in his stomach and a bouquet of flowers in his hand. You opened the door before he even knocked, and then you were in his arms and invading his senses. "Are those for me?" you asked, kissing his cheek and poking the flowers. 

"Yes," he whispered, silently begging you to let him hold you for a few more seconds while he caught his breath and got himself under control. You turned him on in every way, and he'd never encountered this before. 

Your soft voice next to his ear as you chuckled and said, "Thanks, Bob," was not helping. You led him inside, and your house was incredible. There were no signs of a roommate, but there was a view of the ocean from the windows along the back of the house. He watched you bend in your little dress to find a vase for the flowers, and he felt completely overwhelmed. 

"Ready to go?" you asked, reaching for his hand a minute later. Your eyes were eager and sincere as you gazed up at him. Your fingers were laced with his, and Bob realized if he wanted to get to the next step with you, he needed to get through tonight.

"Yes." He kissed your lips softly, and you leaned against his arm as he walked you out to his truck. 

You spent the drive to the movie theater telling him all about your Friday night playing Dungeons & Dragons, and of course Bob felt more relaxed. He bought the tickets, and you got the popcorn, and when he put his arm around your shoulders, you snuggled against him, so he kept it there. By the end of the movie, the empty popcorn bucket was on the floor, and you had your palm resting on his thigh. 

"Did you like it?" you asked softly while the end credits scrolled. 

"Yes, I liked it," he promised, accepting another of your kisses.

"It's still early. Want to grab a drink somewhere?"

Bob really only knew one place, because he spent an awful lot of his free time there. "Should we hit up the Hard Deck? And then I can take you home and hopefully get another goodnight kiss?"

You had one eyebrow raised as you considered him. "Even after the third date? You're not going to try to make a move?"

Embarrassment flooded his cheeks as he muttered, "Not yet." And then your lips were all over his like he'd answered your questions correctly, even though he felt like his thoughts on the matter were actually probably wrong according to most people.

Eventually the two of you made your way to the bar, but visiting the Hard Deck was a mistake that he didn't see coming. You were tucked perfectly against his side as Bob walked across the parking lot and listened to you tell him how much you liked working for Admiral Bates. Then you ordered two vodka sodas, and Bob had to pluck your credit card from your hand to keep you from paying for them. 

"Hey!" you complained, but he just smiled. 

"I'll give it back later." He was rewarded with another kiss on the cheek, this one very close to his lips. 

"Well, look who's here," Jake drawled obnoxiously over the music from the jukebox and the noise from the crowd. "Bob and his friend."

You rolled your eyes and laughed, but you kept one hand linked with his as the drinks were set down. "Should we say hi to your friends?" you asked, and Bob nodded even though he really wanted to just find a small table on the other side of the room. But Nat looked excited, and the other guys looked annoyed, so Bob thought a short detour might be fun.

"Hey," Bob greeted everyone as you sipped your drink. 

"How was the movie?" Nat asked, elbowing Bradley in the side before he could say anything.

"Pretty good," you replied. "You know, for one of those Academy Award bait films." 

Bob laughed and looked at you. "I liked it a lot, actually." Or maybe he just liked sitting with his arm around you for two hours at a time, but he wasn't going to say that in front of everyone else.

Javy tapped a pool cue on the ground and asked, "Do you like to see a lot of movies?"

You nodded with a bit of an apprehensive look on your face that had Bob just about ready to pull you over to the table that another couple was vacating. "Yeah... I like films," you replied softly. 

And then Jake's jaw dropped open and he slapped the edge of the pool table. "Oh my god!" His green eyes were wide as he looked you up and down from head to toe with a smirk that made Bob want to stand in front of you. "That's why you look so familiar! You're Roxy Luxxe."

"Oh, fuck," Javy said as he dropped the pool cue on Nat's foot, and Bradley choked on his beer. 

But Bob just stood there and watched your posture stiffen and the look of apprehension on your face grow. "Who?" he asked softly, but you wouldn't meet his eyes.

"She's a porn star, Bob!" Jake said a little too loudly as he hooted. "A very memorable one, too. Played up different movie genres. Everyone I Did Last Summer. Sisterhood of the Traveling Sluts. Laid in Manhattan. Some real classics!"

"I retired," you said firmly, holding eye contact with Jake even though your voice sounded strained. "I left the industry five years ago."

"Guys," Nat said with a warning tone as she looked at Bob who was frozen in place, his head swarming with wild thoughts. An adult film star? You? But you worked at Top Gun and played D&D and liked scones. You went on three dates with Bob of all people.

Now Nat was physically moving Javy, Bradley and Jake back toward the game of pool, snapping her fingers at them as they continued to ogle you in your pretty dress. "So..." you whispered, turning toward Bob, looking anywhere but at his face. "That was... yeah..."

He had no idea what to say right now, and the longer he went without saying anything, the worse he felt inside. You used to have a job making adult films? Bob couldn't even handle watching those without blushing and stuttering. You must have had sex with dozens and dozens of different men and probably women too, and Bob suddenly realized he could go home and watch them for himself if he really wanted.

"Right," you said, finally looking at him as your eyes started to fill with tears. "Well... no hard feelings, Bob. I'll see you at work on Monday." Then you set your drink down, covered your mouth with one hand and made a beeline for the door.

Bob looked at the drink in his hand, and then at the one you set down. He left his on the table next to yours and followed you out to the parking lot. He looked around, calling your name and checking to see if you were by his truck, but you didn't respond. You were gone. 

Roxy Luxxe. That name was made up, and he didn't think it suited you as well as your real name. That one was perfect, and he liked it. He liked you. He could drive back to your house, but if you didn't want to talk to him, then what was the point? He'd already embarrassed himself by clamming up. But even worse, he thought he might have embarrassed you. 

"Damn it," he muttered, angry at Jake and all of them for making you feel small, and angry at himself, too. He got in his truck and drove himself home.

----------------------------

Well. You got three perfect dates before it all blew up in your face. Three amazing dates with Bob who was going to look at you like you were no longer worthy of his time now. Sure, you would have told him eventually. After another date or two, you would have brought it up in such a way that perhaps could have been a little bit more flattering or at least slightly tasteful. But of course you should have been expecting this. It wasn't the first time. Getting older only did so much for your face, and it didn't matter how much you changed your hair and makeup: Once Roxy Luxxe, always Roxy Luxxe.

You really thought none of them recognized you. It was almost refreshing that Bob had never heard of your alter ego. He probably never saw a single video of you having sex with Sam Slick or Dickie Divine. He didn't know exactly what your tits looked like, because you'd never taken your shirt off for him in person. He didn't know how you sounded when you faked an orgasm. As you ran down the block and got an Uber, you could hear Bob calling for you.

You weren't ashamed or embarrassed. You were not. This was your life, and you made every decision along the way for yourself. Nobody else. You put yourself through school. You bought the house of your dreams. You had an amazing job at Top Gun now for fuck's sake. But Bob was the first guy you met in a long time who made you think you could have a relationship with someone who wouldn't judge you for your past.

You walked from your Uber into your house and kicked your shoes across the entryway. More tears were filling your eyes, but you didn't want to cry again. Not over this. "But he was sweet," you whispered to your reflection in the hall mirror. His friends were kind of assholes, but he wasn't. Even if he didn't want to be with you now, which was understandable, those three dates were something else. Dungeons & Dragons discussions and coffee and pasta. 

You sighed wistfully at the flowers in your kitchen. Maybe a few more years and you'd look even less like Roxy Luxxe. That might make things easier to navigate. You made yourself a cup of tea and grabbed some crackers and sat out on your back deck where the moonlight reflected off of the ocean. The way Bob had wrapped his arm around you during the movie made it easy to imagine him here with you, keeping you warm. Instead you grabbed a blanket and snuggled in as you thought about how he would have been an excellent boyfriend. 

"You win some, you lose some," you told the night sky. If he was bothered by your past which you had designed so you could have a future, then he wasn't the one for you. You fell asleep outside in your dress, and the rising sun eventually woke you up. When you stretched and stood, the chilly air sent you running inside and toward your shower. 

The memories of last night were hanging out in the periphery of your mind. Going to work tomorrow was going to be awful. If you didn't like Admiral Bates so much, you'd request to work under someone else. But then again, why should you have to go to work feeling bad? Yeah, it was going to sting to see Bob, but it was still your job, and you deserved to be happy. 

You showered and took your time until all of your skin felt fresh and new, and then you threw on some oversized sweats after you moisturized. After breakfast, you could see if one of your friends from D&D was free to hang out. You were finally just about to check your phone to see if Bob had attempted to reach you when you heard a knock at your door. 

Bob's truck was parked in your driveway just behind your car. You could see it through the front window. According to your phone, he tried to call you twice, and he'd send you a handful of texts. But now he was here and knocking again. It was obvious you were home, so you wrenched your front door open and stood before him with your chin held high.

"What do you need?" you asked, already feeling weak at the sight of his pretty blue eyes and his glasses. 

"Hi," he said softly, just staring at you. He looked exhausted, like maybe he hadn't slept. Then he fumbled around in his jeans pocket and pulled out your credit card. "This is yours."

You plucked it from his hand and started to close the door. "Thanks for returning it. I'll see you at work."

Then he said your name. Your real name. "Wait. Please?"

You pressed your lips together. "What do you want, Bob?" 

The soft rise and fall of his solid chest held your attention while he started stuttering. "L-Look. I'm really sorry about last night."

You nodded. "Me too." It wasn't like you wanted to know, but you couldn't stop yourself from asking, "I take it you went home and looked up my videos?"

His eyes went wide as you crossed your arms over your chest. "I didn't."

You actually believed him, but you felt like making yourself hurt anyway. "Your friends have all seen me naked. Watched me getting fucked."

He seemed surprisingly calm as he half shrugged and kind of nodded. "So what?"

As you shifted your weight from one foot to the other, you said, "I'm not ashamed of anything I've ever done, okay? And I would have told you about it after another date or two... before we slept together." When he remained silent you added, "I started out in the adult film industry when I was eighteen. I quit when I was twenty five. I just turned thirty last month, and I guess I was silly for thinking enough time had passed. But last night was a prime example of why I haven't even tried to date anyone. Ever, really."

Bob was gaping at you now. "Not ever? But you're... you're so..."

"I know," you said, cutting him off before he could finish. "I'm hot enough to do porn, but nobody wants to date me." 

You started to close the door again, but he scrambled. "N-No, that's not what I was going to say. I was going to say you're flawless. A-And I shouldn't have let you leave the bar like that last night."

Your fingers loosened on the door, and soon it was drifting away from you, opening wider for Bob as he stood there with an eager expression. God, you just really liked him. And he seemed like he was being sincere. "What would you have done differently last night?" you whispered. 

He started to reach for you before tucking his fingers in his jeans pocket. "I would have taken your hand in mine as soon as I saw tears in your eyes." You bit your lips as he added, "And I would have told you that I like you so much. And if you wanted to leave, then I would have driven you home right away and walked you to your door."

He liked you so much. If there was a chance that Bob could be the kind of guy who still liked you with your past as Roxy Luxxe but also wasn't just trying to get in your pants and meet her for himself, then you wanted to give him a shot. "What would you have done after you walked me to my door?"

He was breathing deeper like he was nervous, and you wanted to touch him. "I would have asked you for that goodnight kiss that I'd been hoping for all day."

You were rushing for his arms, clearly surprising him in the process, but he held onto you as you gave him just the softest kiss. "I would have let you have it." Bob's hands found their way to the most respectful spot on your back, and you kissed him a little deeper. 

As soon as you broke the kiss, his fingers flexed against your back, and he said, "I want to go on another date with you. A bunch more. But I want you to be sure about me. I don't really care about Roxy Luxxe. I'm sure she was lovely, but I like you." You laughed. You couldn't help it. And he smiled as he asked, "Maybe you can think about it today and let me know at work tomorrow?"

"Okay."

He nodded and let out the breath he was holding. "Okay. I'll see you tomorrow."

Your back felt cold where his hands used to be as you watched him walk back to his truck. He waved to you as he pulled out of your driveway, and you waved back with a different feeling in your heart than you had twenty minutes ago.

---------------------------

Bob was disappointed to find he would be in the air on Monday. When he arrived on base, he changed into his flight suit instead of his khaki uniform, wondering what that would mean when it came to seeing you. He'd slept poorly, wondering what your answer would be, hoping you'd say yes to another date.

"Hey, Bob," Jake drawled as Bob zipped up his flight suit. "How was your night with Roxy Luxxe?" He had a devilish smirk on his face, and Bob's skin was crawling. All of the other guys were looking at him now, and he knew his face was beet red. 

"I guess she was as good as she looks on film if she rendered you speechless," Jake added with a laugh. 

"Whoa, no," Javy said, shaking his head at Jake before looking at Bob. "Cut it out, man."

Bob counted to five, took a deep breath and then raised his forearm, and at least Jake had the decency to look panicked. Bradley stepped into the fray as Bob used his arm on Jake's chest to push him back against the lockers. Sure, Jake was more muscular, but Bob was no slouch, and he had a couple inches on him. "Don't call her that again. Don't even talk about her. While you're at it, don't look at her either."

Jake raised one eyebrow and nodded slightly, and Bob released him, walking right out of the locker room and making a quick detour to the classroom. But you weren't there. He ran his hands through his hair before he headed outside to find Nat. 

"Hey, there you are," she said gently. "You okay? After the bar and everything?"

"I'm fine," he replied, still looking around. "Have you seen her?"

"Mmhmm," she hummed, pointing behind Bob, and he whirled around in time to see you walk out of the tower with Warlock and Cyclone. You looked as pretty as you always did, and Bob found himself wanting you the same way today as he had last week. All of the daydreams about making breakfast together after holding you in his arms all night were still there. So were the thoughts about you snuggled up, laughing on his couch. But now he could also imagine taking walks on the beach where you lived.

Your gaze met his, and he watched you excuse yourself from the admirals before heading his way. Nat squeezed his bicep, and muttered good luck before making herself scarce, and then Bob was standing there with you a respectable three feet in front of him. 

"Lieutenant Floyd."

He smiled softly. "Good morning."

"So..." you began, looking down at his boots and pressing your lips together. "I'm free on Wednesday night. Or pretty much all day Saturday." Your eyes trailed up his body until you were nervously examining his face. "What did you have in mind for our fourth date?"

He felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. He'd been so apprehensive, afraid you were going to tell him to beat it, he hadn't bothered to come up with an actual date idea. "Cooking dinner at my place?" he blurted out.

You nodded like that sounded good to you. "Wednesday night then?"

He couldn't remember if he already had plans, but if he did, he'd cancel them immediately. "Yes. Wednesday. The day after tomorrow. Wednesday."

Your soft laughter filled him up as you turned and started to walk away, giving him just one word. "Wednesday."

--------------------------

You showed up to Bob's place with just a bottle of wine. He promised to take care of the rest. An hour later, a completely homemade pizza with fresh mozzarella and herbs was baking in the oven, and you had your arms draped around his neck. His lips tasted like the pinot noir the two of you had started drinking while you made the pizza, and his body felt strong and sure. As of right now, you thought you'd made the right choice by coming here.

"I really like you," he whispered for the third time this evening, and you believed him. You liked yourself. Why shouldn't he? 

"I like you, too, Bob." You reached up and adjusted his glasses before letting your fingers trail back through his hair. As his hands slid slowly down to your hips, it was easy to imagine how he might be in bed. Authentic. Meticulous. Earnest. Just like he was at work. The thought thrilled you to no end, but you were also afraid of the way you'd feel afterwards if you rushed it just to get the first one out of your system. So you let him hold you like you were important. 

The timer buzzed, and Bob laughed as you jumped further into his arms. You buried your face against his neck. "It's not funny." But you were laughing, too, and his lips met your hair. "Okay, it's kind of funny."

His stomach was growling, so you slowly pulled yourself free of his arms so he could put on his oven mitts. "Looks good," he remarked, but your gaze was fixed on him. "What do you think, Honey?" 

Bob's eyes went wide as he set the tray down, like he couldn't believe what he'd said. Your heart was absolutely thundering in your chest. "Looks good," you whispered in agreement. You hadn't looked at it. You were sure it was fine. You'd eat anything anyway. But he called you Honey, and you didn't mind it one bit.

You shared the pizza side by side on his couch along with the rest of the bottle of wine, and Bob listened to you tell him about your friends you meet up with on Fridays. And then he told you about his deployment as he finished the last few drops of wine. 

"I never really talk about this with anyone but Nat. This is nice," he said softly.

"Is it lonely?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper as he set down his glass and looked at you. 

You didn't want to rush him, because you could tell what he was going to say was important. And it was. His voice was a little rough as he looked at you and said, "Somehow it's lonelier when I come home. It's worse than being on an aircraft carrier in that I can't really have anything for myself here. There's nothing waiting for me. And a lot of the time, I feel like it would be too much to ask someone to do that. To wait for me. It would be a lot for someone to accept."

When you crawled onto his lap, he didn't stop you. And when you tilted his face up to make him look at you, his cheeks flushed pink, but his hands found your hips again. "I understand exactly how you feel." 

Then you kissed him, and you didn't stop for probably hours or maybe days. It felt that good. When you ended up beneath his warm body, you were so happy he came to your house on Sunday morning with your credit card. "Bob," you whimpered, and that seemed to bring him back from wherever his head was while he kissed his way down your neck and along your chest. His hair was a mess from your fingers, and his lips were a little puffy from the kisses, and you were pretty sure he wouldn't let you down again even if his friends were idiots.

You'd broken the spell, but he didn't seem to mind as he stood and pulled you to your feet. "It's getting late. We have work in the morning. Let me walk you to your car?"

At this rate, you were afraid you'd let him do anything he wanted, because he held your hand the whole way there. And he kissed you just right and told you he'd love to spend part of Saturday with you.

"Come over," you told him, and he promised he would.

----------------------------

It was chilly as Bob watched the sunset over the ocean from your back deck, but his body was warm from the combination of having you and your fleece blanket wrapped around him. You fit perfectly in his arms. Frankly, you seemed to fit pretty perfectly in his life. He wouldn't mind spending all of his Saturdays like this, listening to your gaming recap from the night before while you occasionally kissed the side of his neck. Your fingers were laced with his, and when you asked if he wanted to share a bottle of wine you got when you were in Napa Valley, he responded with a different question. 

"Is there any chance you'd want to be my girlfriend?" You shivered in his arms, so he wrapped you up a little tighter. "I can't stop thinking about you being the one waiting for me to get home from a deployment."

You didn't speak right away which made him apprehensive. He'd somehow been the one to push things too fast. This was something he'd never managed to do before. You tightened your grip on his hand as you said, "Bob... people are going to recognize me. It's going to happen sometimes, no matter what I try to do about it, and I-"

He cut you off with a kiss. "I don't care about that, Honey." Then more kisses. The bottle of wine in your kitchen was left forgotten as you carefully slipped one leg over Bob's lap and sat straddling him. You kept the blanket wrapped snug around both of you, your body nestled against his as your foreheads met. "I just really like you."

The sun had disappeared below the horizon. Everything was pink and purple and dusky and dreamy as your cheek nudged his glasses making him smile. "If you think you can handle being my boyfriend, then I'm not going to try to stop you."

Heart pounding, he asked, "So is that a yes?"

"Yes." Your kisses were slow and soft, and Bob kept chasing the smile on your lips, because he couldn't get enough. With his eyes closed, all he could hear was the ocean below and the soft sounds you made. All he could feel was your body everywhere. You smelled familiar. You tasted good. 

As you ran your fingers through his hair, your other hand trailed down to his shoulder, along his bicep and then across his chest. When Bob dared to let his hands dip from your waist to your hips and butt, you scooted a little bit closer. He realized when your fingers skimmed his abs that he had an erection. 

Embarrassed, he tried to break the kiss and move his hands, but as soon as he started to move, you pulled away first. In the dying light, he could see your wide eyes and the alluring rise and fall of your chest. Part of your lace bra strap was showing, and your nipples were obviously hard. His cock throbbed in his jeans as you asked, "Do you want to stop?"

He knew you could read the desire on his face. When he started to shake his head, you rubbed yourself against his jeans where he was hard for you. "No," he grunted, head tipping back as he panted. "I don't want to stop."

"Good," you whispered next to his ear, lips barely grazing him. "Neither do I." You took his hands in both of yours and brought them back up to your body, encouraging him to touch every curve.

He gasped your name as he watched you slowly rolling your hips against him, seemingly in no hurry as you bit your lip. When he reached for the hem of your shirt, you didn't stop him, and he tossed it aside. Your body looked magical in the twilight, and as he reached for your bra clasp, realization hit him. 

You were used to a certain caliber of partner for these kinds of activities. Standards he probably couldn't meet. "You're hesitating again," you whispered, voice breaking a little bit on the last word. "If you don't think you want to do this with me, I completely understand, Bob."

It was getting difficult to read your expression in the darkness, but when you stopped touching him and pulled your arms to your sides, he started to panic. "It's not that," he promised. "But you've been with... p-professionals. Guys who know what they're... doing." He ran his hands through his own hair. "And I'm not the most experienced. I've only had two partners."

"Oh, Bob," you moaned, and his cock ached at the sound. He wanted you. His whole body was screaming for it, and then he watched as you unhooked your own bra and let it slide down your arms and fall from your fingers. Your body was flawless, back arched, every curve designed to make him crazy. He made a sound somewhere between a groan and a whine as you leaned in closer and kissed him. "You'll be so much better."

Your bare skin was everywhere as the blanket slipped from around you. Bob's hands splayed across your back to keep you warm, but the supple feel of you had him thrusting against your core as he gingerly ran his thumb along the side of your breast. "So much better!" you whispered before pulling his bottom lip between yours.

He was still a little nervous, throbbing against you in his pants like a teenager as he cupped your breast in his rough palm. When you trailed your lips down his neck, he said, "I just want to be good enough for you."

Bob was thankful it was dark and you couldn't see him blushing as you nipped his earlobe and giggled. "Bob. You're better, because you're real. And you're turning me on, because we're not faking anything." You moved your right hand down between your bodies and squeezed his cock through his jeans as you sucked on his neck. "There's nothing fake about this."

He was gasping as he reached for your hand. "Honey." He couldn't take too much more teasing, or at this rate, he'd finish before his pants were off. "Can we go inside?"

You were off his lap and reaching for him with both hands, pulling him to his feet and closer to you. "My bedroom sound good?"

"Yes." 

It was honestly difficult to walk. You led him through the sliding glass door and inside where the soft lighting somehow made your topless body look even more stunning. You brought him down the short hallway to your room, walking backwards and looking up at him with a smirk as you unzipped his jeans. He made another unintelligible noise as he watched the way your breasts swayed and bounced with each movement. 

Your bedside lamp provided the only light, and Bob was still looking around, trying to get his bearings, when you pulled his shirt and undershirt off. "Oh," you gasped, running your palms up his flat stomach to his slightly broader chest. "God." He couldn't fathom that you liked what you saw and felt enough to leave you panting his name, but you definitely were. Then your hand was down the front of his unzipped jeans, and he grinned as you tried your best to wrap your hand around his length, your eyes growing wide. "Bob."

And now he wasn't really nervous, because this actually felt really easy and good with you. You were giving him all the queues that you wanted more. You were kissing him as you stumbled to the bed. You were trying your best to get your hand around his cock, but you couldn't. He picked you up and hauled you up to the pillows, and you squealed. All he could see was your beautiful smile as you kissed him over and over, only pulling away to run your nose along his cheek and whisper his name. 

He watched you shimmy out of your yoga pants and underwear and push them aside, and it was no wonder you were able to make a career out of using your body the way you did. But if most of that was just acting, then he wasn't going to let you down now. He watched as your head tipped back, and you pressed yourself up against his hands when he gently squeezed your breasts. Mesmerized by all of this, he let his hands drift down over your ribs and along your sides until he was met by your hips.

Bob worked his hands slowly back up your body and down again, pausing to press his lips to your breasts as you arched for him again. You felt soft, and you were sensitive, running your bare foot up and down his leg as you whimpered. When he squeezed your hips again, he let his gaze fall below your belly button.

His voice was soft and deep as he asked, "Is it okay if I taste you, Honey?"

You instantly spread your legs a little wider, grabbed him by his hair, and said, "Please."

---------------------------

Bob's hands were huge, with thick veins and graceful, calloused fingers. All he was doing was touching you and kissing you, and you were very fucking worked up. This was already a treat, just being with a guy who wasn't grabbing at you and trying to shove his cock in your mouth. But it was more than that. It was the soft tone he used when he said your name and the way he was looking at you. 

Gentle but strong. That was how you'd describe your newly minted boyfriend. You smiled at him as he stroked his fingers down your sides. You hadn't had a boyfriend in years, and Bob was so sweet and handsome, it was absolutely outrageous. 

"Is it okay if I taste you?"

All of that and he wanted to go down on you? "Please." Your voice was needy, and your body was so ready for him. You eased your thighs further apart so he could see all of you, and you let your fingers tangle in his soft hair. You were so excited, and when the wire rim of his glasses brushed the inside of your thigh, you shivered with pleasure. 

Then his lips met your pussy, and you almost went through the fucking ceiling. Those big hands were at your waist, holding you in place on the bed as he licked up along your slit, slowly tasting every inch before he hummed softly. You wanted to watch, but you could barely lift your head off of the pillow as he licked up again and again before kissing your clit. 

When you managed to prop yourself up on one elbow, you got a great view of his big cock hanging out of his unzipped jeans when he lifted his head away from your body. "Does it feel good?" he asked, and you laughed. He pulled away from you further, concern on his face as you started to reach for him.

Your nails scraped along the day's worth of stubble on his cheek as you sat up and kissed him, tasting yourself. You licked at his lips and chin, cleaning up the wetness before you whispered. "It feels better than good."

A few seconds later, you were on your back again, legs over his shoulders as he ate your pussy with fervor. All of your nerve endings were singing his praises. He had you spread with his rough thumbs, and when he looked up at you, even his nose was wet. Your hands were fisted at your sides while you gently rolled your hips against his mouth and whined at the perfect feel of him. "Shit. Fuck," you gasped. He sucked on you with just the right amount of pressure, and your toes were literally starting to curl. "Bob!" 

All you got in response was another hum of pleasure that made you squeal followed by some seriously lewd, wet sounds. His broad shoulders pushed against the backs of your thighs, and you felt him teasing at your opening with the tip of one finger. Tongue circling your clit, he glanced up at you over his crooked glasses. His cheeks were pink, and there was a sheen of sweat on his forehead as you reached for his hair again. "I want you to fuck me."

"Okay," he agreed, nodding his head like he hadn't brought you close with his mouth. He looked a little dazed and pussy drunk, and you thought you could fall in love with that expression on his handsome face. 

"Come here," you whispered, kneeling so you could kiss him. "You taste like me," you added, licking his cheek and chin. "And I love it."

"Honey," he growled, and when you looked down, you could tell he was aching. You pushed him onto his butt and helped him the rest of the way out of his jeans and snug briefs, his thick cock bouncing for you. Then you looked at him there in just his socks and glasses, and your entire body clenched with a need you'd never known before. 

You took his cock in both hands, leaned down and kissed away all of his precum while every muscle in his abs and both legs tensed up. "Holy shit," he gasped. When you tugged on his shoulders, he moved with you, covering your body with his own. His weight and warmth against your bare skin felt essential to your happiness, and when you kissed him, he said, "And you taste like me." 

His cheeks flushed a pretty pink as you ran your tongue along his lips. You couldn't get enough. He shifted his body slightly, and his cock came to rest on your slick clit, making you moan into his mouth. You arched away from him, moving your hips back and forth a few inches at a time, using his body to bring yourself pleasure as you clung to his arms. "God, Bob. You haven't even been inside me yet, and I'm a mess." 

The veins in his neck and forehead were more prominent as he panted, a bead of his sweat rolling down to the tip of his nose. You licked it away as you shifted your hips so he was positioned at your entrance. He was thick, and even though you were soaking wet now, you had to use one hand to help guide him. You shook your head from side to side, your body taking him slowly. He buried his forehead to your neck, and the bite of his glasses against your collar bone kept you grounded. 

"Honey," he moaned, clutching at your hips as he finally, finally bottomed out. You were completely full, already clenching around him softly and enjoying the rough feel of his trimmed hairs against your clit. He thrusted a few times like he couldn't help himself, and you kissed his forehead. "Am I hurting you?"

His neck was a little slick against your fingertips. You'd been fucked too rough or without enough lubrication to the point of it being painful several times before, but this was the exact opposite. "Bob, you feel incredible." He lifted his head and kissed your lips, rewarding you with another thrust. Your legs tangled with his as you pushed his hair back from his forehead and kissed him harder. 

His lips found their way to your neck and breasts, and his thrusts started coming quicker, but every smooth movement left you gripping at him, your body begging for more as you whimpered and whined. He murmured your name against your skin, sucking on your nipples until you were seeing stars. And each thrust filled you somehow better than the last. And every movement left you grinding your clit up for more. 

You were going to come. You were going to come so hard. You could feel it. The buildup was delicious. Lips and stubble and glasses on your breasts. Hands on your hips. Bob everywhere.

"I'm not wearing a condom. Honey," he panted. "I'm not wearing a condom."

"It's okay," you whined loudly, suddenly gasping and clawing at his shoulders for leverage. "You can come wherever you want."

He chose inside you. And you came, hard and long and loud, hands on his face while you kissed him. You knew he was going to be so much better. You called it from the start. From when he surprised you by asking you out for coffee. He was immediately better than anything else you anticipated for yourself, and even when he fumbled, he recovered. You ran your lips along his cheek and back to his ear and whispered, "You're so much better than faking it."

He rolled both of you onto your sides, facing each other while he was still deep inside you. "Please don't ever do that. Fake it," he said, voice deep and raspy as he ran his rough palm along your cheek. "I want to know I'm good enough for my girlfriend." 

You smiled and tucked your head under his chin, and he wrapped his arm around you. His skin was warm beneath your lips, and his words were soft and gentle. When he climbed out of bed, he asked where he could find a washcloth, and he came back with it a minute later, ready to help you get cleaned up. He even held your robe out for you and waited while you used the bathroom, but you did that quickly, finding you wanted to be right next to him as much as possible.

Bob looked delicious in his briefs and undershirt, and you wrapped your arms around his waist as you asked, "Do you want to go back out under the blanket? With the bottle of wine? We could look at the stars. Listen to the ocean before bed."

He kissed your forehead. "As long as I'm with you."

-------------------------

Six months later...

After eight weeks away, Bob was excited to get home. He really hoped this was the start of his deployments feeling lonelier than the time between them did. Especially since he was going home to you and the house where he moved all of his stuff as soon as you asked him to live with you. He couldn't wait to hold you all night and hear all about your Dungeons & Dragons campaign and ask how you'd been enjoying work.

As soon as the aircraft carrier started docking in San Diego, he was at one of the lower railings along with the other aviators, and he spotted you immediately. You were bouncing around at the front of the crowd shouting his name and waving like a lunatic, and he had missed you so much. "Hey, Honey!" he shouted, and you just jumped higher. 

"Damn, Floyd. That's your girl?" asked one of the guys he'd flown with.

"Yeah," he replied, never taking his eyes off you. "That's my girl."

Six and a half minutes later, he was practically running down the long ramp with his duffle on one shoulder to the spot where you were waiting for him. 

"Bob!" you screeched as he scooped you up in your tiny dress and kissed you until you were as breathless as he was. "I missed you. I love you so much, and I missed you."

"I want to go home, Honey," he said, kissing you again. "Take me home."

"Gladly," you gushed, grabbing his hand and leading him toward his own truck. "I have big plans for your big cock," you announced to everyone around you, and Bob felt his cheeks warm up. "Well, and the rest of you, too. We can make a pizza together and eat out on the deck."

"Anything you want," he promised, tossing his bag in the truck bed and pushing you against the door. "And I love you, too." 

You only let him kiss you for a few seconds, before you were pushing him away. "I know you do. Let's go home." You held his hand on the short ride, and when he pulled in the driveway, you yanked him right out and led him inside the house. 

This felt incredible, knowing you wanted him as badly as he wanted you, running hand in hand to the bedroom. Then you stopped short and turned to face him as he bumped into you with a laugh. "You know how you're kind of your alter ego right now when you're in your uniform? Lieutenant Floyd?"

"Yeah?" he whispered, leaning down to kiss you, but your lips curled into a smile as you backed away.

"Well... I thought you might like to meet my alter ego?" you asked softly, easing that little dress up to your hips and along your torso before pulling it over your head. You were standing there in the tiniest black thong and bra set known to mankind. "Do you want to meet Roxy Luxxe?"

Bob just nodded and reached down to palm himself through his khaki pants as he gaped at you and grunted, "Uh huh." If Roxy was just a playful extension of his girlfriend, then yes, he wanted to meet her. 

You bit your lip and coaxed him toward the bed, running your hands down your body to your hips where you played with your underwear. "Good. Because she wants to meet you, too. And she wants you to know she's only going to be available exclusively for Bob Floyd's enjoyment."

---------------------------

Thanks for reading this long one-shot! I wanted Bob to get to fuck a former pornstar, because nobody deserves such a treat the way Bob does! But then I got attached to them and had to make it special. Bob and the artist formerly known as Roxy Luxxe are adorable together. Thanks to @mak-32 @beyondthesefourwalls @thedroneranger and @sylviebell for your help!

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[fulloflambing]

࣪ . ִֶָ๋ KINICH: ❛ it's not the alcohol, i swear! ❜ ♡

pairing: kinich x reader (uses she/her) synopsis: kinich never touches alcohol. the one night he does, he has a very pleasant secret to spill. banner artist: @/Lion_2929 on twitter/x !! wordcount: 1.7k words warnings: lots of alcohol consumption, kinda crack, kinich is drunk the way i feel like he'd be like if he was drunk (talkative and childish) cho's notes: heavily inspired by beer by the itchyworms. hihi happy reads!

Maybe it was a bad idea to go to this party.

“Believe me! I AM the hydro archon!” mualani cried, weakly shoving at chasca’s shoulder.

Definitely a bad idea.

The ignited torches set a cozy atmosphere into the weary inn, the instruments being strung by performers and high spirits of the natlanese only made it more comforting. It was a cold night out, and you had been invited earlier in the day to a party to celebrate the victory of Natlan over the abyss, a week after the intense battle.

Mualani was the one who sent you the invitation, giving another one to kinich when your group were lounging together. kachina threw a small tantrum, whining: “why can’t I go?” making mualani sigh, patting the small child on the head, “sorry kachina, it’s strictly an adult party. And i mean it! I really can’t sneak you in this time.” “I can’t believe they’d send a kid to war, but not to a grown up party.”

Mualani mentioned there would be alcohol, which made your eyes immediately dart to kinich, your close friend along with the other two. You knew he absolutely despised alcohol and he didn’t want to be anywhere near it, given his past surrounding the vice. You noticed how his shoulders had slightly tensed, only to slowly relax again. 

“So? Are you guys going~?” mualani coed, trying to convince the both of you to attend.

“I dont know.. I don’t think it’d be fair if only the both of us will-”

“I’ll be there.” You and mualani’s jaw immediately hang, looking at the stone-cold kinich absolutely bewildered. You quickly composed yourself as kinich raised his brow at you, almost saying ‘do you want me to change my mind?’ with his expression alone.

“A-Alright. We’ll be there.”

It was supposed to be a calm party, with only a few drinks. 

You only indulged in a glass or two, to join in on the festivities and to really be in the spirits of the party. You were barely tipsy, just a bit flushed with slightly fuzzy thoughts.

Mualani had almost gulped down 4 bottles of beer on her own, thinking and speaking had become one action to her. But that was normal. Mualani was known as the party girl anyway, it was her who carried the mood and laughter, even when she wasn’t making sense. What wasn’t normal, was when kinich decided to become drunk too.

“You.. are not the hydro archon. Stop.. *hic* disrespecting Fontainians.” He mumbled grumpily, slamming his glass onto the wood table with a thud. It was a rare sight; Kinich with his hair a little messier, with rosy cheeks and sleepy eyes. You felt your heart beating a little harder at the sight.

You knew you liked kinich, but there was never a perfect opportunity to confess it. And in the end, you had just decided to keep all the sappy feelings to yourself, not wanting to ruin the perfect friendship the both of you shared.

It caught everyone off guard, when kinich had asked for a taller glass of cold beer after the initial toast. Then he ordered another one, then another.. Then some more. 

“But I am! It came to me in a dream!” Mualani continued crying, drunk-stupid tears flowing down her face, frantically turning to him.

“Well i dreamt that i had normal friends, do you think i do?” he spat bitterly, looking at her with narrowed eyes. Kinich was a bit meaner while he was drunk, but he didn’t mean it. 

Again, It was supposed to be a calm party, with only a few drinks. 

But mualani started trying to turn one of the tables into a surfboard, citlali encouraged her behavior and was even trying to show her ‘how to do it properly’, chasca was nowhere to be found, and kinich was about to release ajaw. The atmosphere was still borderline calm, but if the circus continued to unfold you knew it wouldn’t end well.

You quickly grabbed kinich’s wrist before he could do anything, and suggested a walk. “We do not need ajaw making things worse. Let’s go take a breather.” Kinich’s eyes seemed to fill with some sort of determination for a second, before going back to being expressionless. He took one last bottle of beer with him, and followed your steps.

You brought him out of the weary inn, the cold atmosphere stinging your skin for a moment— It was a beautiful night. The moon was suspended high into the sky, illuminating in its beautiful full circle. with only a few clouds around. It was the perfect night to greet after a party. You walked with kinich out of the stadium, following a random path of pavement.

“I didn’t expect you’d want to get drunk tonight kinich.” You looked at him with a small smile, and admired the new side of him no one really knew.

“Do I always come off boring and lame to you?—” he sighed, bringing the bottle close and popping the cork off with his fingers easily. A subtle flex of his strength. “—I just.. wanted to try something different.” he said, picking his words carefully.

Something about kinich was different.

“Are you alright? You seem.. A little out of it.” you mumbled. He looked like he was avoiding something, or his head was filled with thoughts he so badly wanted to address. His breathing was heavier, his hands were trying to find purpose, and he avoided your eyes. 

“I-i’m fine. Just drunk. What’s the big deal?” he mumbled, still apprehensive and shuffled his steps. “..Just drunk, nothing more. Nothing less. Not hiding anything. Hiding nothing at all.”

“Okay okay. Fine.” 

You decided to fall silent, and let your eyes linger in the nature around you; Your heart ached a little. The trees slightly swayed to faint music, chatter, and crickets. The stars twinkled high above your heads and it was almost the perfect night. One more thing was missing: Kinich, but sober. 

in your mind, the night would've been perfect, if kinich loved you too.

“I can do this.” you turned your head to the dark-haired boozer next to you talking to himself, only to see him drinking the large bottle whole. “ki-kinich! slow down!” You tried to snatch the vessel out of his grasp, but he only turned his head until it quickly ran half-empty, a loud gulp coming from his throat.

He stopped in his tracks and brought the bottle off of his mouth, and wiped the extra carbonation off of his shiny lips and let out a hiccup before meeting your eyes.

“Y/n. I like you.” 

“Huh?”

“I like you. Like.. the romantic kind of like. Not the friend kind of like, I mean that I really want to be your boyfriend, kind of like.”

Kinich was a lot more talkative while he was drunk, but you prayed he wasn't a joker too.

Your mind fell silent, running out of words to say. You could suddenly hear your heart beat in your ears, and feel like the world shrunk around the both of you. ‘he's just drunk-'

“And before you say anything.. No. it’s not *hic* the beer. It’s not the alcohol. In fact, i-it’s the beer that’s helping me say everything right now. And if you decide to reject me right now, it’s *hic* also what’s going to make me forget this i-in the morning. Which is why i’m *hic*  drinking so m-much.”

He looked so serious, you knew he truly meant his words. His deep emerald eyes stared right into your soul, you almost felt violated. A deep heat rushed to your face, but you were still out of words.

You tried to speak. “B-but.. How? I mean. You never seemed to take interest in me. I thought-”

Kinich quickly takes the bottle back to lips, drinking down the rest and tossing the bottle to the side, burying it into the tall grass. He breathes out a ‘ha!’ sound before his liquid courage started speaking for him again:

“Never took interest in you!? All I ever do is stare at you, *hic* and listen to your stories, and br-briing you fruit, and help you whenever *hic* you break something! All free of charge! And I am a man of mora! Its literally my ancient name!” he whined; it was so unlike him. He was always so composed, mature. He had transformed into a whiny child throwing a fit in 5 bottles of alcohol.

“I’ve always wanted to tell you, but it was you who never seemed interested.” tears started pooling in his lower eyelids, and you feel a sense of panic combining into the butterflies causing a frenzy inside of you.

“Y-you always seemed to *hic* stiff up when i-i tried to compliment you, or you’d always go to other people when you wanted to *hic* ask for an opinion on how you looked or what you should wear. I have opinions too!” tears started streaming down his face. You quickly take his arm and put it over your shoulders, supporting him before he’d drop face-down into the dirt.

“Okay okay! I’m sorry i never asked for your opinion!”

“A-and you always gave a forehead kiss goodnight to kachina and mualani during sleepovers. Why did i never get one!”

“B-because i thought you didn’t want one!”

“Well I did! I really, *hic* really did!” 

“okay i’m sorry please stop crying now!” your free hand reaches out to wipe a tear off of his heated face, before your lips planted a quick kiss on his skin. “Can that make up for it for now?”

His cheeks get impossibly rosier, and he thinks to himself, before humming. “...mhm.” his tears slowly coming to a stop, until he's just snifling.

an awkward silence fell between the both of you, as you continued walking down the path. your face still hot, your trying to piece every memory of kinich and you together, trying to see a different angle where he was trying to show you his affections.

“Wait..” his eyes look away from you, and its almost like he tried to piece together a jigsaw puzzle in his head. Like a lightbulb had turned on, he turned back to you with his eyes livelier than they’ve ever been before, a sparkle appearing back into his gradient eyes.

“So do you like me back?” he mumbled meekly, like he tried to hide while asking.

“I do. I really, really do.”

[thoughtfulfiction]

Friend zone? End zone.

Author’s note: Anon requested🧡

July

Packing everything up and moving to France with no idea where you'd live or how you were going to make money, to study under some of the most well known pastry giants in the world was...crazy. But somehow, opening up your own bake shop in Cincinnati felt even more like you were losing the last hold on your sanity. You didn't know anyone here, no friends or family nearby, but Velvet Clementine was your dream. And today, the dream smelled like vanilla, caramelized sugar, and the bright zest of fresh clementines, located in the middle of the Queen City. You had your own staff, granted it was four people but still, you were the owner, the boss, of your very own place.

Cincinnati had been your home for six weeks when the bell chimed, and two men—tall enough to make your display case look like a dollhouse—ducked into the shop. They moved with effortless confidence, their voices a low rumble of laughter as they scanned the display case with the focus of someone choosing their last meal. You watched them pile on various pastries, looking through the rows of mini pain au chocolat, almond croissants and pastel de nata. The mini fruit tarts featuring clementines and red velvet cakes were the items that made you fall in love with baking, hence the name of the place. The shorter man reached for a tart, its glossy colorful slices glistening under the bakery lights, nestled in a bed of creamy white chocolate mousse. You watched as the other one picked up a croissant, giving it a slight squeeze—a soft crackle of delicate layers breaking beneath his fingers. They seemed satisfied with their various selections, happily walking over to the register, the tall one flashing his almost sinfully perfect smile as he paid for everything. You thanked them for coming in and sent them on their way.

"You can't be serious, how did you not say anything?" Your sous chef Quinn let out a breath she had probably been holding since the two guys walked through the door.

"What are you talking about?"

She scoffed, remembering the fact that you’d lived in Europe the last few years so their presence didn’t hold much weight. She tossed a dish towel over her shoulder as she turned to face you, “they’re Bengals, babe. Like, literal football gods. Also, it helps that they’re stupidly attractive."

You hummed, processing everything she just threw at you. "Well, that part I did notice. And they’re freakishly...big. Good thing we made extras of everything, because I think they just wiped out half the front shelf."

Quinn laughed, stepping around you to check for herself. "I have a shelf they can—sorry."

"Okay easy tiger,” you let out a laugh, “they're gone. Are we still on for drinks tonight?"

"Oh absolutely, I definitely need a martini or three after seeing the best receiving duo in the game, in person. My boyfriend is actually going to lose his mind when I tell him."

You shake your head with a smile on your face, walking back to the kitchen to restock, the scent of butter and cocoa bean filling the air as you slip behind the counter to arrange the freshly baked tarts.

Much to your surprise, they were back three days later. The door sounded again, and the tall one walked up to you, his broad shoulders barely fitting in the doorway. "I'm Tee."

"Hi Tee," you smile, surprised. "Didn't expect to see you back so soon. Or your friend over there." Tee turns around to find Ja'Marr loading up on cheesecakes this time, not paying attention to anything else. The sight of him, mouth half-full of a pastry, causes you to chuckle.

"I didn't either but...damn. You the owner?"

You nod, hesitant but flattered.

"Excuse my language, but yo, this shit fire—like man. We had to come get some more. Everything’s made fresh, from... scratch?"

"Yeah, every morning I get here at like 5:30 and we bake everything. From scratch."

Ja'marr appears next to him, holding a mini crème brulee. "You are VERY good at your job. You'll be seeing a lot of us now that we're back for the season. Swear you weren't here when I left Cincy, how long you been here?"

"Stop, it's not that great.” You wave him off as he continues to nod profusely, holding up his latest find with wild eyes as you laugh again. “And I've been here a little over a month, just moved to Cincinnati actually."

"From?" Ja'Marr pipes up, curiosity dancing in his eyes.

"France, lived there for a few years to perfect my pastry skills and really focus on my craft."

"That's crazy, I just got back from Paris for Fashion Week. The food was amazing and looks like the classes worked cause you definitely know what you're doing."

"Thank you guys. And spread the word will you? I heard you two are kind of a big deal around here."

"Something like that, we appreciate you for these," Tee flashes a wide grin, holding up the bag as he thanks you one more time, "you'll see us back here soon."

The next day they returned the favor and since you'd been feeding them, they wanted to take you to a special spot downtown to really introduce you to the city. Of course you brought Quinn with you. Her boyfriend didn't believe this was actually happening until he Facetimed her and saw the guys for himself. It was nice to finally feel like you'd met people you got along with without having to try to be anyone but yourself. Over the next few weeks while exploring the Cincinnati food scene, you found out that Tee and Ja'marr were funny, sweet and kind, just two guys enjoying the last few weeks of the offseason before training camp ramped up. Both of them were in the midst of contract negotiations, having to explain to you the ins and outs of NFL life. They appreciated that you didn't care about their status and never asked unless they started the conversation and you loved having people around that made this city feel so much less like a foreign country.

Ja'Marr strolled in one morning with a grin, practically bouncing on his feet as he leaned across the counter. "Hey, so listen...you gotta make those mini cakes for my housewarming on Saturday. I mean, you have to be there, since we’re your best friends now and all. It’s only right."

Quinn, who had been wiping down the counter, stopped mid-motion and squinted at him. "Excuse me? So now I’m invisible? You’re just gonna act like I wasn’t the one keeping her entertained before you waltzed in with your designer sweatpants and phenomenal taste in bakeries? Some people." She shakes her head in mock disbelief.

Ja'Marr smirked, completely unbothered. "Anyway, Imma ignore that. Jealous isn't a good look on you Quinn." He quickly turns his attention back to you, "so...you'll be there Saturday right? I'll text you the address."

"Yes, I'll be there."

"And so will I, since we wanna exclude people from the conversation." Quinn adds in from behind you.

Ja'Marr, clearly pleased with his victory, flashed a grin as he turned to leave. "Speaking in third person? You know what I'll just see y'all Saturday." Before heading out, he shot you one more look over his shoulder. "Don’t forget, mini cakes."

As he walked out, Quinn glanced at you, a teasing glint in her eyes. "Looks like you’ve got some serious new friends now, huh?"

"We," you correct her, "we have some serious friends new friends now."

As a business owner, you prided yourself in being a professional. Even at your friend's party, you wanted to be more than on time and make the cakes look as pretty as possible. Quinn had joined you in the last-minute preparations, both of you arriving an hour before the gathering started to get things in order. The large living room was already buzzing—caterers setting up a lavish buffet, trays full of appetizers being placed on side tables. Some of Ja'Marr’s friends, who you assumed were visiting from Louisiana, lounged in the corner, their laughs echoing over the low hum of video game sound effects.

You and Quinn worked in tandem, setting the delicate mini cakes on a table near the center, the soft scent of the various flavors filled the room as you arranged the treats just so. You hadn’t even noticed Ja'Marr and Tee walking towards you until Ja'Marr's voice cut through the conversation.

"You brought my favorite ones, that’s so sweet. I am gonna tear. These. Up." His grin was wide as he took in the display of your pastries while wiggling his fingers.

"Be classy, please," you teased, glancing at him, "we don’t want your neighbors thinking a wild animal moved in next door."

"Nah, it’s cool," Ja'Marr shrugged nonchalantly, glancing down to check his phone. "I think one of the neighbors just got here."

The door clicked open, and in walked a tall figure. Your breath caught slightly in your chest as your gaze followed the man’s movement. His striking blue eyes swept across the room, a faraway intensity to his expression that made it seem like he was seeing more than just the people around him. There was a quiet confidence to his posture, the kind of calm authority that made him impossible to miss. His light brown hair, a little tousled in that effortless, perfect way, gave him the air of someone who had just stepped out of a high-end catalog.

"Burrow!" Ja'Marr exclaimed, his voice shifting into an easy familiarity. "Damn...I’m really surprised you here. Didn’t think you were leaving the house for a year after your little world tour."

"We went to the same country," Joe replied, his voice steady and slightly dry. "And it was just one." He gave Ja'Marr a side hug, but the moment was strange—a quick pinky shake that made you tilt your head, wondering what it meant. Something about it felt oddly intimate.

Ja’Marr turned his attention to you. "You remember that bakery we been tellin' you about? This is Y/N, the owner. We kinda best friends now so you need to get used to seeing her around. And that's Quinn, they're a package deal."

"Nice to meet you both." Joe’s voice was smooth, but there was a slight tension in the air as he extended his hand.

You reached for it, but Quinn—who had been standing beside you—was frozen. Her eyes were wide, staring at Joe like he was some kind of myth brought to life. The words she'd been about to say caught in her throat, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to process the moment. The seconds stretched on, but she didn't seem able to move, her usual confidence wiped away by her starstruck shock.

You nudged her lightly with your elbow, snapping her back to reality. She blinked, her expression changing in an instant. “Sorry,” she said quickly, her voice higher-pitched than usual as she shook Joe’s hand. “It’s just—um—I'm, like, a huge fan. My boyfriend, too. He’s gonna lose his shit when I tell him I met Joe Burrow.”

Joe’s eyebrow raised slightly, a small, amused smile pulling at his lips as he noticed her flustered reaction. He let out a soft chuckle. "Well, nice to meet you, Quinn."

You laughed softly, shaking your head at Quinn, trying to play it off while feeling your own pulse steadily increasing. Quinn, still flushed from her sudden nervousness, was no longer frozen but her eyes were still glued to Joe, unable to hide the awe on her face.

"Okay, now that we've got that out of the way," Ja'Marr said, clearly enjoying the shift in energy. "I know you don't play about your diet but when I tell you these cakes are the best thing I've ever put in my body? I'm being serious."

Before you can roll your eyes or downplay it, the homeowner stops you. "Don't even think about it, I don't wanna hear none of that. We just need to get him to try one."

Joe grabs one with a Biscoff cookie on top and takes a bite, completely unfazed by the fact that everyone is watching. "Wow, this is. This is incredible. I get why they won't shut up about your place. This is really good."

"Thank you," you laugh softly, trying to push down the weird sense of nervousness pooling in your chest. "And thanks for breaking your strict diet to try it, that means a lot."

He nods and more people start to show up so Ja'Marr leaves to greet them and Tee grabs a few tiny cakes for himself, Quinn asking him if he wants a plate. Everyone moved on from the previous conversation but as you made eye contact with Joe, something unexpected happened—a flicker of recognition, of something unspoken, passing between the two of you. His gaze held yours for just a heartbeat longer than usual, and for a moment, it felt like the rest of the room had melted away. Although you didn’t really want to, you ignored that feeling and focused on enjoying the night.

You and Quinn moved around the party, getting to know different groups of people, mingling with different players on the team, their significant others and she had to explain to you who all these people were. Of course you'd heard the names before, the buzz around the city the closer the players got to training camp and to the season actually starting. But if years in Europe had taught you anything, it was that sports fans are obsessively dedicated and somehow now you had also become an honorary Bengals fan because of Ja'Marr and Tee. And you couldn't wait to cheer them on. But right now? You couldn't wait to be home and in bed.

The exhaustion of the being up since 4:30 in the morning was continuously creeping up on you. The noise and the laughter mixing with the smells of rich food and the clinking of glasses was all becoming a bit too much after a long week of work. Your mind was constantly racing, your body tired and your spirit longed for some peace and quiet.

You slipped outside into the cool evening air, the chill of the night sky a welcome relief from the heat of the crowded room you'd successfully slipped out of. The city buzzed faintly in the distance, but it felt like a different world out here, away from the chatter and the constant movement.

You leaned against the porch railing, closing your eyes for a moment to just breathe.

The door clicked open behind you, and for some reason you knew exactly who it was. His presence was unmistakable.

“Didn’t expect you to be out here,” Joe’s voice was low, a little gruff but soft in the quiet of the night.

You didn’t answer right away, too focused on the quiet of the moment to form any words. You’d seen Joe around the party—he’d been laughing and chatting, looking perfectly at ease, but now he seemed... different. There was something in the way he stood, in the way he gazed at the horizon, that told you his social battery had run out just like yours had.

“You all good?” Joe asked after a beat, his voice a little more concerned than you expected.

You nodded, finally turning to face him. “Yeah. Just needed a minute. It’s...a lot, sometimes, you know? New city, new life, always on the go.”

Joe looked at you for a long moment, as though weighing something in his mind. “I get it,” he said quietly. “I’ve had days where I just need to...step away for a second. Guess we both needed some air, huh?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the irony. Two people who seemed like they could handle anything, both seeking a quiet moment to themselves, at the same time. You glanced at him, noting the way his hands were shoved deep in his pockets, his jaw slightly tense. He wasn’t trying to fill the silence with empty words or forced jokes, and for that, you appreciated it.

Neither of you spoke for a while, just standing there in the cool night air, the sounds of the party muffled behind the door. For the first time, you felt the world slow down a little.

Joe shifted, and you glanced over, catching the faintest flicker of a smile playing at the corner of his lips. "Tee and Ja’Marr won’t shut up about you. Guess it’s my turn to see what all the hype is about."

You smiled back, the moment stretching on, neither of you in a rush to move. "Hope I don’t disappoint."

Ja'Marr had you over a few nights later to go over some film with you to get you ready for "the most important season of your life." Tee walked into the living room holding an iPad full of notes, including the presumed depth chart for week 1. Joe sat on the opposite couch, a water bottle on the table in front of him. They gave you a rundown on what everybody's role is on the team starting with Joe.

"He's QB1, you know. Heart of the team, he's our leader." The more he talked, the more it sounded like he was reciting wedding vows to his quarterback, who looked like he was bored out of his mind. You glanced over at him, but he didn’t react, just sipped his water and let Ja’Marr ramble on. You had barely spoken to him all day—just small glances here and there without taking it any further.

The same thing happened the next day. And the day after that.

Finally, you spoke up. "You're not a man of many words, are you?"

Joe barely looked up as he responded, "Depends on who it is and what they're asking." His tone was casual, but there was a weight to it, like he didn’t give away words freely. Like almost every human interaction he had was a secret interview prying into his personal life.

"Okay, well, you've attended three sessions of my exclusive Bengals 101 class, and you've barely said a word," you pointed out, shifting on the couch to face him. "But yet, every day, you're here."

"I love football," he said simply, taking another sip of water. Then he set the bottle down, finally looking at you. "And I would hate for the newest football fan of the crew to be confused in the middle of the Jungle."

"Is that what they call it? The Jungle?" you asked, raising an eyebrow at the fact that he may have just cracked a joke.

Joe gave you a half-smirk and nodded. "It gets pretty wild, Y/N," he said, standing up and patting you lightly on the back as he walked past. "You better be ready."

He always kept interactions short, never going out of his way to talk to you in group settings, refusing to join the group chat that Tee had created with you, Ja'Marr, and Quinn. Instead of treating him like an onion who needed to be peeled, you just went with it and tried to lean in and embrace his dry sense of humor.

One night, you plopped down next to him on the couch. "Hey," you said casually, tilting your head to study him. "I was just wondering—do you ever smile? Like, unprompted? Or do you just reserve happy Joe for the comfort of your gigantic house when you're alone watching SpongeBob reruns?"

Joe turned his head slightly, his lips twitching into a smirk before he quickly looked away, trying to hide it.

Too bad for him—you caught every second of it.

A few hours later, as you cleaned up after another “film session”, you caught Joe watching you from across the room. Not in an obvious way—more like he was trying to figure something out, like you were a broken play he was seeing on his tablet.

He left without saying much, as always. You figured he preferred sticking to his usual routine—keeping his world small, guarded and unbelievably predictable.

So, when you saw him on the other side of Quinn's door after days of radio silence holding several bags of food, you almost dropped the bottle of wine in your hand.

"You know, you probably shouldn't have tipped that delivery guy. He just handed me these bags when I told him I was coming up here. I could've just been some horrible person stealing a perfectly good breakup recovery meal."

"I think because you're...you know—you? He probably would've handed you anything. I’m surprised he didn't ask for a selfie."

“Oh, he did,” Joe deadpanned, shifting the bags in his arms. “I signed the receipt instead. How's Quinn?"

"Honestly? She said she saw it coming, but it still sucks. You can come in."

Before long, everyone had found a spot, the coffee table now covered in takeout containers, the aroma of fried rice and lo-mein filling the air. The soft glow of the TV flickered across the dimly lit living room as Quinn sat curled up in the corner of the couch, picking at her food while Tee animatedly recounted his worst breakup story.

“At least your ex didn’t break up with you via emoji,” Tee said, waving his fork.

Ja’Marr nearly choked on his drink. “You lyin’.”

“Bro, she deadass sent me a salute emoji and just—gone.”

Quinn let out a weak laugh, shaking her head. “Okay, that’s tragic.”

“Exactly. So if I survived that, you’ll survive this.” Tee nudged her with his elbow.

The weight in the room had started to ease, the heaviness of Quinn’s breakup quickly turned into a lighter and softer energy. You sat on the couch sharing a blanket with her, almost having to force yourself into finishing your food because it was unfortunately your first real meal of the day. Joe sat beside you, close enough that you could feel the heat of him, his knee brushing against yours every time one of you shifted. You told yourself it was nothing.

Every once in a while, your eyes met—quick glances during a particularly funny scene, a knowing look when Ja’Marr started yelling at the TV. He was more relaxed tonight, his usual quiet guardedness giving way to something looser, something easy.

For the first time since moving to Cincinnati, you felt it. That feeling of belonging. Of finding your people.

Quinn let out an exaggerated sigh, leaning her head against your shoulder. “I guess I’ll survive.”

“You definitely will,” you reassured her, placing your hand on hers, giving it a squeeze.

Joe shifted beside you, his voice low. “You picked a hell of a crew to stick with.”

You turned your head, meeting his gaze, something unreadable in his expression.

“Could be worse,” you teased, nudging his leg slightly.

He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. For a second, it seemed like he might say something else—but instead, he just reached for an egg roll.

After that night, things started to shift more toward football. The usual late-night hangs became less frequent, the group chat more active with reminders about packing lists and schedules. Training camp was looming, and you could feel the weight of it, even though you weren’t the one suiting up.

One night at Ja’Marr’s, Tee stretched out on the couch, scrolling through his phone. "This is our last free weekend before camp. Y’all better soak it in.”

Quinn groaned. “Ugh. That means my social life is about to take a massive hit.”

Ja’Marr snorted. “Don’t act like we don’t have days off. We just gon be tired as hell.”

Joe wasn’t there that night—he’d taken off for a few days on his annual lake trip, something about needing to “reset.” Not that you were keeping tabs on his whereabouts or anything, but the house felt quieter without him.

Then, two nights before camp started, he walked into Ja’Marr’s house like nothing was different.

Except, everything was different.

Tee was mid-sentence when he noticed, his words dying in his throat as he squinted at Joe. “Boy, what the hell?”

Ja’Marr turned, eyes widening. "Nah. No way."

You blinked. “Did you—did you shave your head?”

Joe barely reacted, setting his keys down like this was any other day. “Yeah.”

“And bleach it?” Quinn added in, looking intrigued...and a little scared.

“Yep.”

Tee leaned forward, inspecting him like he was some rare species. “You look like a villain in a Fast & Furious movie.”

Joe smirked, rubbing a hand over his buzzed, bleach-blond head. “Perfect.”

Ja’Marr was still in shock. “Bro, what possessed you?”

Joe shrugged, completely unbothered. “Felt like it.”

You tried to stifle a laugh, shaking your head. Of course. The most dramatic change of the offseason, and he acted like it was nothing.

Quinn tilted her head, appraising him. “You know what? I don’t hate it.”

Ja’Marr ran a hand down his face, groaning. “Man, now we gotta deal with this version of Joe all season.”

Joe just grinned, casually grabbing a side salad off the counter like he hadn’t just broken everyone’s brains. Training camp hadn’t even started yet, and he was already causing chaos.

Quinn, Tee, and Ja’Marr burst out laughing, looking at each other with wide grins. "Hold up—do y'all realize what this means?" Tee pointed between them. "We all got buzzcuts now."

Ja’Marr gasped, nodding. "Oh, it’s a sign. We're about to be in sync this season. Chemistry off the charts."

Quinn snorted. "What, like you're the bald-headed Avengers?"

Tee clapped his hands. "Nah, we’re like…an Olympic relay team. Faster, stronger, better communication."

Joe shook his head, amused. "You guys are ridiculous."

"You say that now, but just wait," Ja’Marr said, stroking his chin like he was cooking up a master plan. "I'm over here manifesting greatness."

Joe just rolled his eyes, taking a bite of his food, but then he caught your expression. You were dying to say something. "Go ahead, tell me what you really think. I've heard a few. Cody Rhodes, Eminem..."

"I was gonna say a more attractive version of Jonah Hill in the 21 Jump Street flashback scenes."

Tee and Ja’Marr lost it. Ja’Marr literally had to grab the counter for support, and Tee was staggering away, gasping between wheezes. "Bro, I can see it!"

Joe stared at you, lips pressing together like he was physically restraining himself from laughing. "That’s just hurtful."

"You asked." You bit back a grin.

The chaos continued around you, but somehow, it ended up just the two of you standing there as the others got distracted by something else.

You hesitated. You shouldn’t ask. But you did.

"Why did you do it?" You tried to sound casual. "Your hair looked fine—I mean, more than fine—but… why?"

Joe leaned against the counter, arms crossing over his chest. His lips twitched like he was about to say something stupid. Then—

"I want frosted tips."

You blinked. "Excuse me?"

"And I’ve never seen anyone actually look good when they just go get them, so I’m doing it the natural way."

You just stared at him. "Joe. This is the most insane way to get blond highlights, and you know it."

"Sorry you feel that way," he said, totally unbothered. "But I don’t do things halfway. Go big or go home."

He said it so casually, but the way he was looking at you? That was dangerous. The kind of look that made the room feel a little too warm, made your stomach do an annoying little flip. His icy blue eyes held yours just a second too long—long enough for you to realize that you should run for your life.

Because if you stayed here any longer, you might have to admit that you were developing a teeny, tiny, completely inconvenient crush on Joe Burrow.

August

Having a crush as an adult kind of feels like you're having a heart attack. You could be completely fine one second and then suddenly your entire being was consumed with thoughts of him so vivid it made your chest hurt.

The first preseason game was finally here, giving you the perfect excuse to focus on literally anything else. Your first tailgate was an experience, that morning of the game was by far the busiest day you'd ever experienced. Pre-orders were being picked up left and right, mini pies and cheesecakes were snatched off the shelves before 11am and the only thing that remained by the time all of you left the shop at 2pm was a lone batch of cupcakes that you ended up giving away for free at the stadium. It was easy promo.

Paycor Stadium felt like magic. A chaotic, slightly unhinged kind of magic. Fans were everywhere—some already drunk, all of them decked out in orange, fully prepared to dedicate their mental health to a 53-man roster for the next several months. You just wanted to see your friends do what they loved—well, at least two of them, since Ja’Marr was in the middle of a holdout. Or, technically, a hold-in, since he was still around the building but not practicing. You were still trying to grasp the nuances of contract negotiations, and honestly, you needed a few more Bengals 101 cramming sessions to feel more confident in your abilities to explain the situation, if anyone were to ask.

Time slowed when Joe stepped onto the field. And the stadium erupted when he threw a touchdown to none other than Tee. You swore you saw a couple of fans crying, which was kind of heartwarming but also a little funny, considering they didn’t know him personally.

Joe hadn’t talked much about his wrist injury or the recovery process after surgery, and you never wanted to pry. You figured he’d open up when he was ready. But as you watched him out there, commanding the field like nothing had ever been wrong, you couldn’t help but wonder if it had been as easy as he made it look.

He commanded the field like he commanded every room he entered. You met up with him, Ja'Marr, Tee, Quinn and a bunch of his friends from Athens along with his family to gather at his house, not only because it was the beginning of the season, but it was also a new beginning for him post surgery. The celebration was on, laughter and quiet music filling every corner of the house. You couldn't really hear it, but it had to be from Joe's never ending playlist filled with Gunna and Kid Cudi songs. People drifted in and out of conversations, drinks in hand, taking in the importance of indulging in the calm before the storm of the regular season.

At some point, you found yourself in the kitchen, away from the noise, refilling your drink. You weren’t alone for long.

Joe lingered in the doorway for a second before stepping into the kitchen, leaning against the counter beside you. His presence was quiet but steady, like he was still deciding if he wanted to speak.

For a moment, the two of you stood next to each other silently. You were perfectly happy listening to the muffled sounds of the party happening in the next room. Then, finally, he exhaled, his voice low enough that it almost got lost in the noise.

“I um—I cried last night.”

You turned to him, startled by the sudden confession. His gaze stayed on the counter, fingers idly tracing the grain of the wood.

“There were nights when I thought I wouldn’t make it back here,” he admitted. “Like, really about thought it. More than I ever have before.” He swallowed hard, jaw tightening for a second before he let out a humorless laugh. “I’ve never been afraid of failure. Not really. But this time… it was different.”

You could only imagine what that felt like—to have the thing you built your whole life around suddenly feel uncertain. To sit in the unknown and not be able to do anything but wait.

“I don’t know what to say,” you admitted softly, shifting so you were fully facing him. “I can’t even imagine what that must’ve been like for you.” You hesitated, searching for the right words. “But I do know I’m glad you’re here. That you made it through. And that I get to see you come out on the other side of it.”

Joe finally looked at you then, really looked at you, and for the first time that night, the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease.

Before you could stop yourself, you sighed, "I think about failure all the time."

His brows furrowed slightly. “What do you mean?”

You glanced down, running your thumb over the rim of your glass. “Every single day at the bakery feels like a risk. Like one wrong move, one slow month, and it all comes crashing down. I try not to let it eat me alive, but it’s always there in the back of my mind.” You huffed out a quiet laugh. “Every day is either a risk or a victory. Some days, it’s both.”

Joe was quiet for a moment before he nodded. “Yeah,” he said, almost to himself. “I get that.”

And you knew he did. Probably more than anyone else. Maybe that was the thing about him—he understood the weight of expectations, the pressure of something you love being both the best and hardest thing in your life.

The party carried on around you, but the two of you stayed there, in the quiet.

Joe wasn’t sure when it started, but sometime after the day he met you, he’d found himself wanting to be near you. To talk to you. To hear what you had to say.

Now, standing here, watching the way your eyes softened when you spoke, he realized something that both excited and terrified him.

He liked you. He really liked you.

And when you smiled at him—soft, understanding, like you really saw him—something in his chest tightened. He was absolutely fucked. And he knew it.

The day after his ill-timed epiphany, he had to figure out a way to see you, without making it completely obvious that he wanted to see you. So he did the one thing he could think of.

"THE Joe Burrow, gracing my humble bakery with his presence?" You place a hand over your heart in mock surprise. "Did hell actually freeze over? Or did you finally crack under the pressure of living a sugar-free life?"

The quarterback looks around and shrugs, "told my parents about this place and I wanted to grab them something before they head out. What should I get? What's good here?" He laughs and you glare at him.

"Everything," Quinn interrupts before disappearing in the kitchen to go over their fall menu, "you know this."

"Well…surprise me." Joe says, when it's just you again. "You're the professional here. And I trust your opinion."

You pick out a few things, putting them in a box and handing them over to him after he tapped his phone on the tap to pay. His fingers brushed against yours on the box, just for a second. Just long enough for his slightly calloused touch to settle into your skin. He didn’t pull away immediately. Neither did you. And then, just like that, the moment passed.

Joe thanked you, turning on his heel and walking out without another glance. He told himself not to think about it. About the way your hand felt against his. About how his skin still felt warm where you’d touched him.

He spent a considerably long time staring at his palm in the car before shaking his head, gripping the wheel, and driving himself home.

September

The month came with the promise of real football. Instead, it delivered losses. Three straight. By the end of the month, they were 1-4, and the frustration was suffocating.

Losing wasn’t new to Joe—football was a game of highs and lows. But this? This felt different. This felt like clawing for air and only inhaling more water. He’d been playing pretty well but that hadn’t translated to team success so needless to say, he was frustrated.

And when Joe was frustrated, when the weight of the season pressed down on him, he did what he always did: he shut people out.

His routine became even more rigid. Early mornings. Earlier nights. Film. Practice. Ice baths. Rehab. Study. Sleep. Repeat. No distractions. No detours. Just football.

No one took it personally. Not really. This was how he was wired. How he dealt with things. But that didn’t mean you didn’t notice the way his texts became shorter, the way he started disappearing from the group chat, the way even Ja’Marr and Tee could barely get more than a few words out of him after a loss.

You weren’t even sure if stopping by was the right move. Still, you showed up at his house the day after their first win, peanut butter oat cups in hand and a ton of nerves in your stomach. You just…wanted—no needed to see him. To lay eyes on him and know he was okay.

Joe opened the door a few moments later, looking like a guy carrying a losing record on his shoulders. His hoodie was slightly wrinkled, his hair, which had already grown out tremendously, was still damp from a shower, and there was something unshakably tired about the way he stood.

But when he saw you, his posture relaxed just a little.

“Hey,” he said, voice low.

“Hey.” You offered a small smile, holding out the box. “Figured you’d be on lockdown mode, so I won’t keep you. Just wanted to drop these off.”

His lips twitched like he was debating whether or not to smile. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know.” You shrugged. “But I did.”

Joe exhaled, running a hand over his face before glancing down at the box in his hand with a small smile. You were definitely going to consider this a win.

You let the silence settle between you for a moment before finally saying, “I know this is my first season actually paying attention to all this, but…I do know one thing.”

He looked at you then, a softer expression on his face as he shifted his weight from one foot to another.

“This season isn’t over,” you said firmly. “Not even close. I know you well enough to know you won't just give up without a fight.”

Joe swallowed hard, slowly nodding his head. He didn’t respond right away, but you didn’t need him to. Instead, you reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder—just for a second, just to ground him.

“I’ll let you do your thing,” you murmured. “I just needed to see you for myself.”

Something flickered in his expression, something almost vulnerable, but before you could place it, he sighed, releasing a significant amount of tension in his muscles.

“Come on,” he said, closing the door behind him. “I’ll walk you out.”

The morning air was cool as the two of you walked in quiet steps toward your car. When you reached the door, you turned to say goodbye, but before you could, Joe pulled you into a hug.

It caught you off guard at first, the warmth of him, the way he held onto you like he needed this moment more than he was willing to say.

And then you felt it.

The steady, rapid beat of his heart against your chest.

You weren’t sure what it meant. If he even realized how much he was giving away just by standing here, holding you like this. And as much as you wanted to say something—to push—you got in your car holding back a smile.

October

The guys were riding on a high after beating the Giants, allowing themselves to celebrate for a total of...four hours.

By the time Joe made his way to Ja’Marr’s place, the energy in the house was still buzzing. Most of the guests had gone home and it was just the core four cleaning up in the kitchen, while others made their way in and out of the house. For once, nobody was sulking over film breakdowns or injury reports. It was rare for Joe to show up to things like this—especially in-season—but a win after weeks of frustration made it easier to step outside his routine, even if only for a little while.

He kept to himself for the most part, sitting back and listening while his receivers talked over each other about plays, what went right and what they could’ve done better. But the conversation took a sharp turn when Quinn, comfortably stretched out on the couch with a glass of wine in hand, looked up and announced, “Oh, by the way, I got her on dating apps.”

Silence.

Then all hell broke loose.

“Wait, what?” Tee sat up so fast he almost knocked over his drink. “Are you serious?”

“Like, for real?” Ja’Marr leaned forward, grinning. “Ain’t no way.”

“Oh, I’m very serious,” Quinn smirked, pulling out her phone. “Took some convincing, but she finally caved. And now I get to be the supportive best friend who helps her swipe.”

Ja’Marr rubbed his hands together. “Hand it over. We gotta see this. Make sure ain’t no weirdos on there. Last thing I need is for you to end up on some true crime Netflix special.”

Joe stayed quiet, gripping the neck of his water bottle a little too tightly as you handed them Quinn your phone and she pulled up the profile. Tee and Ja’Marr crowded around, making dramatic noises every time they scrolled past a new guy.

“Absolutely not,” Tee muttered, swiping left.

“Oh, hell no.” Ja’Marr swiped even faster. “Why he posing like that?”

“This one’s kinda decent, though,” Quinn argued, nudging the phone toward them. “Look at him.”

Joe didn’t look. He didn’t join in on the commentary, didn’t make a joke, didn’t do anything except sit there, staring at the condensation rolling down his water bottle, wondering why there was a weird feeling sitting heavy in his chest.

It wasn’t like he had a right to feel any type of way about this. And he knew what it meant.

But that didn’t stop him from feeling it anyway no matter how hard he tried to ignore it.

Between the temperature fluctuations and the sudden boom in business, your head was spinning. The bakery had never been more popular. What had started as a hidden gem over the summer had officially become one of Cincinnati’s go-to spots. Lines stretched out the door on weekends, with customers raving about the new fall menu: cinnamon swirl snickerdoodle blondies, apple cider donuts, maple pecan scones. You barely had time to catch your breath between managing the chaos and perfecting each batch, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Meanwhile, the Bengals’ season remained a rollercoaster. A solid win against the Browns gave everyone a glimmer of hope, but that optimism came crashing down when the Eagles steamrolled them by twenty. After that game, no one heard from Joe. His silent rage wasn’t unusual after a loss, but it was nevertheless, felt from miles away.

The next week, they bounced back in a big way, blowing out the Raiders at home. The scoreboard said it was a dominant win, but Joe was still visibly pissed, seen on the sidelines venting to Zac Taylor about missed offensive opportunities and a shit ton of penalties that should've been avoided. The moment went viral—clips of his animated rant flooded social media, with analysts debating whether his frustration was a sign of his competitive fire or a deeper issue brewing in Cincinnati.

That night, everyone met at Jeff Ruby’s for dinner, but Joe didn’t show. To the surprise of absolutely...nobody.

Toward the end of the night, the restaurant manager approached your table with a takeout bag in hand. “This is Joe’s order,” he explained. “He called it in, but something came up. He asked me to give it to you, is that okay?"

You hesitated for a second before nodding. “Yeah, I got it.”

It wasn’t long before you were standing outside his house, takeout bag in hand, knocking on his door. When he opened it, he looked exhausted. Not physically—no visible bruises or signs of injury—but mentally. His eyes were dull, his usual composed demeanor carrying an edge of frustration.

You gave him the bag. “Figured you should still eat.”

Joe took it with a small nod. “Thanks.”

For a second, you considered just leaving, letting him sit with whatever was weighing on him. But instead, you crossed your arms and leaned against the doorframe. “You wanna talk about it?”

He let out a slow breath, rubbing his jaw before stepping back to let you in. You followed him to the kitchen, watching as he set the bag down on the counter but didn’t open it.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, finally breaking the silence. “I just—” He sighed. “I’m playing well, but I don’t know if we as a collective have what it takes to close out games when it actually matters. We can beat shit teams, but the moment we go up against a real contender, it’s like everything falls apart. And I hate feeling like we’re right there but just not good enough.”

You nodded, understanding the weight of what he was saying. Joe wasn’t the type to be satisfied with mediocrity. He needed to win, and not just in ways that looked good on paper. At this point, to get back on track they needed to look dominant— unstoppable. Not like kids throwing together a project at the last minute because they forgot the due date.

“I get it,” you said softly. “This is your job, your career. You don’t half-ass anything, and you don’t want to settle for middle of the pack.”

Joe’s lips pressed together, his gaze flickering to yours. “Exactly.”

He ran a hand through his hair before exhaling sharply. “I’m sorry for missing dinner. Just…had a lot on my mind.”

You tilted your head, a flash of curiosity taking over. “Anything besides football?”

For a second, he was quiet, debating whether or not to answer. You could see the internal battle written all over his face, his jaw tensing and flexing as he pondered the risks of honesty.

Then, he muttered, “Fuck it.”

Your brows lifted, but before you could ask, he looked at you—really looked at you—and said, “I’ve been...thinking about you.” His voice was low, steady, but you could hear the weight behind it. “More than I want to. More than I should.”

The words knocked the air from your lungs.

You should’ve said something, but for once, you had no idea what to say. Instead, you took a step forward. Joe’s eyes tracked your movement, and when you didn’t pull away, he closed the distance. His hand brushed against your waist, his gaze flickering to your lips, leaning in ever so slightly—

“Yo, have you seen my phone charger?”

Ja’Marr’s voice shattered the moment like glass.

Joe immediately stepped back, cursing again under his breath as Ja’Marr walked into the kitchen, completely oblivious to what he had just interrupted.

Your entire face was on fire and you were sure your heart was seconds away from bursting out of your chest.

Joe looked like he wanted to murder his best friend.

November

Neither of you brought up what almost happened. Maybe because neither of you were sure it should have happened. Or maybe, deep down, you were both afraid of what it would mean if you admitted that it did.

So, instead, things carried on like normal—except they weren’t normal at all.

Joe still came by the bakery, though now he had a habit of showing up under the guise of casual excuses. Like when he walked in one morning, a familiar water bottle in hand, and placed it on the counter in front of you.

“You left this at my house,” he said, completely straight-faced. “Wanted to make sure you’re staying hydrated.”

You blinked at him, then down at the bottle—one of many you’d undoubtedly left behind at places far more inconvenient. “You drove all the way here for…this?”

Joe shrugged. “Seemed important.”

Quinn made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. You didn’t have to turn to know she was giving Joe a look—one that said she saw right through him.

Still, nothing was said.

The two of you danced around the elephant in the room for 17 days. Then came the bye week, and as fate would have it, or your own personal hell, you ended up at Joe’s house, standing side by side in his kitchen as you baked a pumpkin pie together. The whole thing came randomly, he mentioned in passing that it was his favorite and he was spending his entire bye week on the couch so naturally you came up with a solution. Nobody else was free so it just ended up being you and him. Of course.

The kitchen smelled of cinnamon, nutmeg, and warm sugar, the scent pulling you into your natural element. This was your Paycor Stadium, your stage. R&B played in the background, filling the comfortable silence as Joe rolled out the pie dough with slow, concentrated movements. The counter was dusted with flour, the remnants of your work scattered across the surface.

"You’re pressing too hard," you murmured, stepping in behind him. You placed your hands gently over his, guiding his movements. "You want it even, but not overworked."

Joe huffed out a breath, the warmth of his chuckle brushing against your cheek. "So what you’re saying is, I’d be terrible on a baking show?"

You grinned, your fingers brushing against his as you both worked the dough. "I’m saying, there's some room for improvement for sure."

Joe turned his head slightly, just enough for his blue eyes to catch yours, his expression hard to read but there was a certain glimmer in his gaze. You didn’t move away. Neither did he. This was how it had been for months now—a quiet understanding, an unspoken closeness that had slowly built between you. It was in the way he showed up to your bakery with your favorite coffee, the way you memorized his weekly schedule, the way he looked for you after every home game, his gaze scanning the crowd in the player guest section postgame until he found you.

The pie crust was ready now, but neither of you were ready to move to finish it.

Joe’s hands lingered under yours, his thumbs lightly grazing your knuckles. "I like this," he admitted after a moment, his voice low. "Us. Doing this."

Your breath caught in your throat. "Me too."

It wasn’t just about the pie, and you both knew it.

You helped him move the dough into the pan, your fingers brushing again, sending little shivers up your spine. The pumpkin filling sat ready in a glass bowl, waiting to be poured, but Joe seemed far more interested in you. His eyes traced over your features, cataloging every detail as if he was afraid he’d forget them.

"What?" you asked, suddenly self-conscious under his gaze.

Joe shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Nothing. Just thinking."

"About?"

He exhaled slowly, rolling his lips together as if debating what to say. Then, instead of answering, he reached out to touch you, his fingers trailing down to your jawline, resting there a smidge too long. His movements were gentle, almost hesitant, as if he was giving you the chance to pull away.

You didn’t. You couldn't.

The space between you evaporated, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss so delicate, so achingly tender, that it stole the breath from your lungs. It was slow, unhurried, as if he was trying to memorize the feel of you against him. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer, and you let yourself sink into him, fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie. The warmth of his body, the faint scent of his cologne mixed with vanilla extract—it was intoxicating.

Joe deepened the kiss, a quiet desperation laced within it, months of lingering glances and fleeting touches culminating in this moment. You felt his hesitation fade, replaced by something raw and real, something neither of you could ignore any longer.

But then he pulled away.

And you saw it—regret, creeping into his expression before he even said the words.

“We shouldn’t have done that,” he muttered, running a hand over his face. “This was a mistake.”

A sharp, bitter laugh escaped you before you could stop it. “Are you serious?”

Joe exhaled, looking anywhere but at you. He was still standing somewhat close but his hands weren’t on you anymore, making the temperature in the room instantly feel like it had dropped 20 degrees. Even the expression on his face was a little colder than before. “I don’t want to ruin what we have.”

Your heart was pounding, anger curling hot in your chest. It was the only thing fueling you and keeping you warm. “I think it's a little too late for that. Joe, things have already changed. These past few weeks—hell, these past few months—we’ve been dancing around this. We’re not in fucking high school. Just tell me the truth.”

You took a step closer, forcing him to face you. To look at you. “Do you honestly have no feelings for me?”

Silence.

Then, finally—too quiet— “I don’t.”

You flinched like he’d slapped you.

Joe must have seen it because he let out a heavy breath and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m just—overwhelmed. The team is losing, and I’m playing the best football of my life, and I just—I can’t add another thing to my plate right now.”

You studied him for a long moment, jaw tight, hands clenched at your sides. Then, finally, you nodded.

You stared at him, waiting for him to take it back, to say something—but he didn’t. He just stood there, shoulders tense, eyes locked on the floor like he was hoping if he didn’t look at you, this would all just go away.

“You’re such a coward.”

Joe’s head snapped up, but you were already shaking your head, anger and frustration crashing into you all at once.

“You are so stuck in your own head,” you continued, voice sharp, unrelenting. “You keep everyone at arm’s length so you don’t get hurt. So you don’t have to admit that you actually feel things like a normal human being. You’re not some heartless football machine, Joe. You don’t have to live, breathe, and die this sport 24/7 to be fulfilled.”

You took a step forward, forcing him to face you, forcing him to hear you. “And you can stand there and act like this isn’t real, like there’s nothing between us, but I know there is. And you do too. Maybe it’s new, maybe it’s always been there, but I’m not stupid. At least I didn’t think I was.”

Joe’s jaw tightened, but he still said nothing.

And that? That pissed you off even more.

You scoffed, blinking away the sting in your eyes as you turned on your heel, grabbing your things off the counter. “If you want to pretend none of this is real, then fine. I won’t fight you on it.”

Joe didn’t move. He didn’t stop you.

You lingered for half a second, hoping—praying—that he’d snap out of it. That he’d reach for you, say your name, give you anything.

But all he did was stand there, motionless, watching you go.

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head one last time before you reached for the door.

“Don’t burn my pie,” you muttered, then stepped outside, slamming the door shut behind you.

December

Joe told himself, over and over, that he’d made the right decision.

That pulling away had been necessary. That it was better this way.

But as the weeks passed, the reality of it settled in like a dull, persistent ache in his chest. The group dynamic wasn’t the same anymore. Quinn was firmly on your side, and Tee and Ja’Marr were caught in the middle, trying their best to act like everything was normal when it clearly wasn’t.

You only hung out with them if Joe wasn’t going to be there, and eventually, he stopped showing up altogether. Left the group chat, too, because what was the point?

So, yeah. He told himself this was what he wanted. That it was for the best.

Then one day, the night before his birthday while the Bengals were in Dallas, his house was broken into.

It was everywhere. The footage of the smashed window. The grainy security cam stills of showing the inside of his house. The headlines dissecting every detail—what was stolen, how much damage was done.

For a second—just a fleeting, stupid second—he thought maybe you’d reach out.

But you didn’t.

And why would you? It wasn’t your place anymore.

You were moving on. Meeting new people.

Like Cory.

Sweet, mature, honest-about-his-feelings Cory.

More than Joe could say for himself.

Joe wasn’t trying to eavesdrop.

At all, really.

But when he overheard Tee and Ja’Marr talking about you, about how you’d been going on several dates with some guy named Cory, he couldn’t help but listen.

“Seems like a good dude,” Tee said, scrolling through his phone. “Takes her out, treats her right.”

“She actually looks happy, too,” Ja’Marr added. “Not whatever the fuck that was with Joe.”

Joe rolled his eyes, slamming his locker shut. “The hell is that supposed to mean?”

Ja’Marr turned to him, unimpressed. “It means you fumbled, bro.”

Tee nodded. “Big time.”

Joe exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his jaw. He wasn’t in the mood for this. But they weren’t letting it go, so he told them. Everything. The kiss, the fight, the way he let you walk away because he was too caught up in his own head to admit how he really felt.

By the time he finished, Tee and Ja’Marr were looking at him like he was the dumbest man alive.

“You fumbled twice,” Tee corrected.

“She’s moving on,” Ja’Marr added. “And from the sound of it, dude’s actually putting in effort. You had your chance.”

Joe didn’t respond, just sat there, feeling more irritated by the second. He told himself he didn’t care.

The restaurant was dimly lit, the soft hum of jazz playing in the background as you swirled the last bit of your wine in the glass. Across from you, Cory was smiling, eyes warm and excited in a way that made you feel a little guilty. He was sweet, thoughtful, and easy to be around. The kind of man that you bring home to your parents and settle down with. But that was the problem, wasn’t it? He was easy. There was no tension, no unsaid words, no history thick enough to make the world stand completely still for a minute.

You were on your fifth date now, and even though you liked him, you knew deep down you weren’t feeling it the way you were supposed to.

“I, uh—I actually got something for you,” Cory said, reaching into his jacket pocket. “Well, it’s more of a surprise, really.”

You set your glass down, watching as he pulled out a sleek envelope and slid it across the table toward you. “Go on, open it.”

You hesitated before peeling it open, your heart practically stopping when you saw what was inside. Two tickets to the game—Bengals vs. Broncos. A must-win. And VIP passes for the postgame meet-and-greet.

You felt like the wind had been knocked out of you.

“I wasn't snooping in your house or anything but I did see a Bengals cup in your cabinet the other day. But you never really said anything about being a fan?” Cory said, clearly proud of himself. “i don't know, I figured you might like it. And hey, you can finally meet some of the players.”

Your stomach twisted painfully. You swallowed down the instinct to refuse, to make up an excuse, to say absolutely the fuck not. But what reason did you have? To Cory, there was nothing complicated about this—just a thoughtful gift for someone he was getting to know.

You forced a smile, hoping it didn’t look as fake as it felt. “Wow, Cory. This is...really sweet of you.”

“So, you’ll come?” he asked, his grin widening.

You nodded, the weight of your own decision pressing against your chest. “Yeah,” you said, voice quieter than you meant it to be. “I’ll go.”

And just like that, you sealed your fate.

Admittedly, it was their best game of the season. A win in OT, a Tee touchdown to keep their playoff hopes alive, and all the players riding on a high of a multiple game win streak. A month ago, you would've been celebrating right along with them. But tonight you really needed to get through this meet and greet without throwing up. And without blowing your cover. If nothing else, this was Cory's opportunity to have a once in a lifetime experience and the last thing you wanted to do is ruin that.

And then you saw him.

And Joe saw you with...him.

He saw how the guy next to you couldn’t wait to shake his hand—Joe thought it was a joke. Thought maybe this was some kind of sick cosmic punishment for all the terrible decisions he’d made in the last few months.

You looked good, unfairly good in your jacket and Bengals beanie, one that Tee had given you and Joe felt his irritation morph into something else entirely.

You weren’t even looking at him.

Cory, meanwhile, was beaming. “Man, it’s so cool to meet you. You played great tonight.”

Joe barely managed a nod, jaw tight.

Cory didn’t seem to notice the tension thickening the air, but you did.

And when your eyes finally met Joe’s, there was something there—something that made his pulse jump—before you quickly looked away.

Yeah. Joe was pissed.

The moment Cory got distracted meeting some of the other players, shaking hands and taking pictures, Joe saw his chance. He stepped toward you, lowering his voice.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

You scoffed, folding your arms over your chest. “Attending a football game, in the city I live in. Apparently that's a crime now.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“Then be more specific," you bite out.

Joe exhaled sharply, running a hand through his damp hair. “Him? This?” He gestured vaguely in Cory’s direction. “Really?”

Your expression hardened. “Yes, really. He’s kind, honest, actually says what he feels instead of hiding behind excuses and—” You stopped yourself, shaking your head. “You know what? No. I don’t owe you an explanation. I don't owe you shit.”

Joe clenched his jaw. “So that’s it? You’re just—what? Moving on like none of it mattered?”

“Oh, now you want to talk about it?” You whisper yell. “You didn't have anything for me when I asked you, remember? All you could do was look at the floor like a freaking idiot. It was crickets and now you have the nerve to ask me what this is? You don’t get to do this, Joe. You don’t get to push me away, call me a mistake, then act like you suddenly care when you see me with someone else.”

He stepped closer, voice low and tense. “You know damn well I care.”

You swallowed, blinking up at him, and for a second—just a second—Joe thought you might let your guard down. That you might admit there was still something there.

But then you shook your head. “If you actually cared, we wouldn’t be having this conversation here. We actually wouldn't be having this conversation at all. I would've been here, with you. Not looking for pieces of you in another guy, a perfectly nice guy who just wanted to meet the freaking Bengals today. So if you don't mind, I'm gonna go meet Tee Higgins and Ja’Marr Chase...for the first time.”

Joe didn’t know what to say to that.

So you left him standing there, walking back toward Cory with a smile, pulling him in for a hug like Joe wasn’t just barely holding himself together.

January

Exactly seven days later, while Cory was over watching the game with you, Joe took a hit and stayed down. This time you were hanging on by a thread, on the inside. On the outside, you shoved some popcorn in your mouth and sipped on ginger ale, hoping the bubbles would bring your heart back to its rightful place instead of where it currently resided...in your stomach. You didn't know if he had a concussion but he definitely looked out of it, missing throws he usually made and the Bengals escaped Pittsburg by the skin of their teeth, securing a two point win on the road, their destiny up to chance. Ja'Marr called you in the locker room after the game to tell you he needed you at the watch party for good luck in praying on the Dolphins and the Broncos downfall. You told him you'd think about it, part of you didn't mind being in the same room as Joe, especially after you caved and watched his postgame press conference to make sure he wasn't lying about being concussed. Maybe the two of you could be cordial with each other and leave the past behind.

You woke up on the couch with NFL Network still on tv. Something about it felt embarrassing, because it felt right. Months ago you were watching an introduction to football PowerPoint and now you'd regularly catch yourself having football withdrawals. Just as you were ready to call it a night, turning off the tv and mentally preparing yourself to head to your room, you heard a knock at the door. Who could possibly be coming over at 2 in the morning?

You stood frozen in the doorway, gripping the edge of the door like it was the only thing keeping you upright. Your stomach dropped—hard and fast—like missing a step in the dark. Joe was standing there, still in the clothes you had seen him wearing during in his postgame press conference. His hair was a mess, the shadows under his eyes deeper than usual. He looked exhausted. But that wasn’t what made your breath hitch. It was him. Here. Now. After all this time.

“Joe.” Your voice was barely above a whisper. “What are you doing?”

He exhaled heavily, a far away look in his eyes. “I don’t know.”

You crossed your arms, trying to steel yourself, ignoring the way your pulse was racing. “You don’t know? What do you mean you don't know? You just drove around after you landed and magically ended up here?”

“I don't know, I just—I couldn’t go home. Not without seeing you.” He swallowed hard, eyes flickering over your face like he was searching for something, anything that might give him an answer. “I know I shouldn’t be here, but when I got on the plane, all I could think about was you.”

Your heart clenched painfully. Damn him.

“You scared the hell out of me tonight,” you admitted before you could stop yourself. “Watching you go down like that—” You shook your head, gripping the fabric of your hoodie. “I hated it.”

His eyes softened, a flicker of something unspoken passing between you. “I know. Can we just—can I come in?”

You stared at each other, the weight of everything unsaid pressing in around you.

“Joe.” You sighed, your resolve crumbling at the sight of him standing there like that, like he wasn’t sure you’d let him in.

“Please,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “Just for a minute.”

And against your better judgment, you stepped aside.

Joe ran a hand over his face and took a shaky breath. “I don’t even know what the fuck I was thinking on that play, the pocket collapsed so fast I didn't even have time to throw the ball away. And when I hit the ground, all I could think about was you.” He let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “Not football, not the game, not the playoffs. You. And how I’d fucked everything up so badly that you wouldn’t even reach out. That I wouldn’t get a chance to apologize.”

Your throat tightened, but you forced yourself to keep your expression unreadable.

“I’m so, so sorry. I was a coward,” Joe admitted, his voice breaking. “I am a coward. I’ve spent my whole life trying to be in control—of my game, my career, my emotions. It's kind of my thing. And you…” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “You fuck all of that up for me. The way I feel about you scares the living shit out of me.”

You blinked, stunned into silence.

“I’m not some heartless football robot,” he continued, his voice raw with emotion. “I’m a man who’s been terrified to feel anything real because it means I can’t control it. And when I’m with you, it’s real. It’s been real for months, and you were right. About everything. I was too much of a fucking idiot to admit it.”

Your heart was pounding, your breath shallow. You wanted to believe him—God, you did—but you couldn’t just let him walk back into your life like he hadn’t wrecked you before.

“I need you to give me a chance to fix this,” Joe pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper now. “Please.”

You swallowed hard. “Joe…”

“I swear to you,” he interrupted, stepping closer, his hands almost reaching for you before he forced himself to stop. “I promise, I will prove to you that I’m not that coward anymore. Just… just say you’ll let me try.”

You studied him carefully, searching for any sign of doubt, any hesitation. But there was none. Only raw, unfiltered desperation and a kind of vulnerability you had never seen from him before.

Your walls were still up, but something inside you cracked. Just a little.

“You have to earn me this time,” you whispered.

Joe nodded instantly. “I will.”

After a hard conversation with Cory in the morning, you decided to attend the watch party the next day to test the waters. And to see your friends all in one place again. The atmosphere in Joe's house had shifted from tense to comfortable, a soft kind of warmth that had been missing for a while. The room was still, save for the quiet hum of the television, which was showing the Broncos slowly dismantling the Chiefs, much to the frustration of everyone else in the room. Joe had been quiet for the most part, lost in his thoughts, but you could tell he had already come to terms with the inevitable.

You weren’t sure if you should be relieved or sad about the Bengals missing the playoffs, but you did know one thing: it didn’t feel like the end for you and Joe. Not anymore.

The room had cleared out, the others heading to their respective homes after the game, leaving you and Joe alone. The snow outside had started to fall heavier now, creating a peaceful stillness that you couldn’t help but love. Joe seemed to notice the shift in the air as well, his eyes softening as he glanced over at you.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. His concern was still there like that first night he found you outside the housewarming party, that need to take care of you even now.

You nodded, even though there was a part of you that was more uncertain than you wanted to admit. “Yeah. Just…just thinking.”

He leaned back against the couch, eyes flicking to the window as the snowflakes danced in the cold air. “You want me to drive you home? It’s getting pretty bad out there. Or, you could stay? Only if you want to."

You hesitated for a second, a small part of you wanting to avoid the drive, to stay with him just a little longer. Maybe it was the way he looked at you—like he was sure this time. Like there was no more running. “I think…I think I want to stay,” you said quietly, meeting his gaze.

Joe didn’t need any more convincing. He pulled you in close to him on the couch, his arm wrapping around your shoulders as he let out a slow sigh. “I’m really gonna miss football," he murmured. “But I’ve got a lot of work to do with you, so I guess I’ve got some time now. I messed up before. I’m not messing this up again.”

You smiled, the weight of the past few weeks lifting off your shoulders just by being close to him. “I can’t wait to put you to work, 6am at the bakery tomorrow morning. And the next few mornings. For a while.” you teased, your voice barely audible.

Joe’s eyes darkened for a moment, a quiet promise in his gaze. He cupped your face gently, leaning in with a tenderness that took you by surprise. When his lips met yours, it was slow, deliberate, as if he was savoring the moment. A kiss full of unspoken apologies, solidifying what was to come, and the quiet declaration that he was willing to do whatever it took to make things right between the two of you. Even if some of that ended up with him getting covered in flour for the foreseeable future.

You didn’t pull away. In fact, you melted into the kiss, your heart swelling in your chest as his hands slid to the back of your neck, holding you in place like you were exactly where you belonged.

He pressed one more slow kiss to your lips before his eyes flicked to yours, searching. “So… does this mean our friendship over?” His voice was low, careful, but there was something else there—hope, maybe.

You didn’t even have to think about it. You let out a small, breathy laugh, shaking your head and running your fingers through his hair. “Absolutely. It’s dead and gone.”

Joe exhaled a soft chuckle, shaking his head before reaching for you, fingers curling gently around your wrist. “Good,” he murmured, tugging you closer. “Because I really didn’t want to be your friend anyway. Got much bigger plans in mind.”

[bratbarzal]

The Secret of Us (LH43) 1/3

aka the sequel to let it happen

Pairing: Luke Hughes x Fem!Reader

WC: 21k (oops)

I felt it, you held it, do you miss us? wonder if you regret the secret of us.

General Warnings: angst (lol), a severe lack of proofreading, mentions of injuries, a couple of angsty flashbacks with avoidant behaviour and fade to black type smut

A/N: just want to say thank you guys for liking this so much 💖 seeing all the comments and the messages and people recommending this to others and the sweet things you're all saying (even if I betrayed you lol) made me so unbelievably happy!!! I could never let these two go out like that, I enjoy writing this dynamic way too much, and I also have way too much discussing this fic with people!! shoutout to the let it happen film club lmao!!! I hope you guys enjoy this sequel, and I hope it lives up to LIH, they really are my babies!!

and I know what you're thinking, maggie how could we ever trust you again after let it happen??? you can't!! and you shouldn't!!! but I wouldn't do that to you twice.

or would I???

I wouldn't 😌

OR WOULD I?!?!?!?! 😏

You need to start getting more comfortable saying no to people.

It’s something you tell yourself all the time, that being a people pleaser is going to lead to your downfall - it’s something you’ve always known.

So why you would ever possibly agree to attend a football game with your sorority sisters after weeks of hiding away in the safety of your childhood bedroom, you have no idea. You’ve spent the last 4 weeks alone convincing yourself to grow a backbone, and you’ve only been back in town a week. 7 whole days and your resolve has crumbled to pieces.

And now you’re squeezing yourself through a crowd of sweaty, yelling men to find your seat in the cramped spaces of Michigan Stadium, after already being packed like a clown into the back of your friend Molly’s car, and your head is throbbing, already.

A football game.

You at a football game.

It’s absurd.

Dressed in team colours with a ridiculous yellow M painted on your cheek like you’re some sort of local.

It’s your own version of a living hell, and you can’t wait for it to be over.

“Are you guys always sat this low?” You yell out to Molly as the rest of your friends amble in, surrounded now on all sides with no way out.

“Aren’t the seats, great?!” She yells back, louder than you, causing you to wince a little at the shrill sound in your ear.

The seats are not great, but you wouldn’t be happy anywhere in here.

You can barely even see the field, the sidelines packed with God-knows-who, and your back hurts already, and all you want is to go back to the version of you that was first asked if she wanted to come with. A version of you that should have told Molly straight up that you’d have rather sat at home plucking at any remaining body hair with a pair of pointed tweezers than to come to a Michigan Football game.

“Oh, look!” Molly jumps, and you’re assuming she’s just going to point to her boyfriend, following her finger with a bored gaze. You’ve seen him, before. You don’t need to see him again.

Only Molly’s finger doesn’t point to her boyfriend.

It points to the sidelines - to a group of guys stood with a shorter girl with curly blonde hair.

Ellie’s down there, dressed in team colours, too. She’s stood next to Jack, who’s stood next to Quinn.

And you don’t even need to look past Quinn to know who’s gonna be stood beside him.

It’s way too late to go home, now, you fear.

Not when Molly is digging her phone out and pressing immediately on Ellie’s contact, and you can see the whole situation unfold in front of you. 

Ellie never has her phone on silent, and when it rings, it rings loud - a high-pitched, horrific tone that honestly sets off your fight or flight, and you can see the immediate reaction the boys have to it chiming in her hand. 

She answers, instantly, and you can hear Molly’s side of the conversation, guiding Ellie to where your group are up in the stands, waving like a lunatic until Ellie finds you all - and, as if your life isn’t bad enough, she then starts gesturing at you.

“Look who I managed to convince to come with!” She yells, still pointing like you’re some circus attraction, and, if you could remember what the ground felt like, too long in the stands, now, that you miss it, you would honestly want it to swallow you up.

Because obviously Ellie isn’t the only one looking.

Jack is looking.

And Quinn is looking.

And you know, once again without looking yourself, that the person beside Quinn now has his eyes on you, too.

The weight of them takes you back in a dizzying flash, and all of a sudden, you’re back in the lake house, sobbing into your hands until you were pulled into the soft embrace of your best friend.

“Hey, you’re crying, what’s wrong?” Ellie cooed as she came over, throwing her arm around your shaking frame and rubbing a hand up and down your back. “What happened?”

“It’s nothing, I’m fine,” you tried through shaky breaths, attempting and entirely unconvincing smile, like it would at all mask the flood pouring down your cheeks, “Go back to your party, I’m just being dumb.”

“I’m not gonna leave you like this,” she told you, “What's going on, is it Luke?”

The mere mention of his name brought back the onslaught of tears, your face scrunching as you tried to hold them back, but it was no use. Every single part of you ached with regret, your throat, your chest, your limbs - and all you wanted to do was curl up and cry it out. “I fucked it all up, El.”

“No,” she reassured you, “He fucked things up, he should never have spoken about you like that, it wasn’t fair. Not if the two of you are into each other, he shouldn’t be saying things like that.”

“He was right, though,” you sobbed, “I’m a mess, I just ruin everything good, I don’t even know why.”

“Aw, babe, no-,” 

“I told him I’d go out with Cole. I don’t even know why, I just wanted him to stop trying to make things work, he kept trying to tell me that he didn’t mean any of it, but I know he did.”

“Do you?” She asked, “Want to go out with Cole?”

“No, of course I don’t.” You shook your head, although you didn’t know how obvious it was, especially to everybody else, how little you wanted to be with anybody that wasn’t Luke. “I just want to go back to this morning, before I heard him say any of that stuff.”

“Why don’t you come downstairs, huh? We can find him, and the two of you can try to talk again-,”

“I can’t,” you refused, the thought of trying to communicate your feelings while you looked the way you did - eyes red raw and face all swollen - filling you with anxiety. “Can you just tell people I’m sick if they ask? I know it’s your birthday but I can’t go down there, Ellie.”

“Okay,” she had agreed, although the worry in her eyes made you feel even worse - missing your best friend’s birthday party because you were too chicken to face your feelings?

What sort of friend does that?

“I’ll come check on you, though. And tomorrow, you’re gonna have a serious conversation with Luke, alright? You can’t keep pushing people away, it isn’t good for you.”

“I know,” you sniffled, “I promise, I’ll try tomorrow.”

But trying had been futile. Luke wanted nothing to do with you - he could barely even look your way. He didn’t come downstairs for breakfast the next day, and when he finally did, he turned straight back around. Every time you tried to talk to him, he would shut you down, and by the tenth day of trying, you’d given up, entirely - booking yourself a ticket home, packing your things up one night and leaving the morning after. 

The following weeks were spent wallowing back home with your mom - texting Ellie, waiting for him to reach out, even though you knew he wouldn’t. Watching sad movies, staying inside, spending your days alone, while your mom was at work, and trying not to miss him so much.

And coming back to Michigan had only been made easy by the fact that he would be gone - due to go back to training in Jersey, and the two of you wouldn’t cross paths.

It won’t hurt as much, you had thought, if you didn’t have to see him.

But now here Luke is, following Ellie’s gaze as she waves up to you in the stands, stood on the sidelines of the football game you’d only attended to finally get yourself out of the house - still in Michigan, stood at the end of the path you thought no longer led to him. 

This might be the first time he’s met your eye in a while, and there’s a visceral feeling that shoots straight through you - your heart falling into an alarming, irregular thump that reverberates through your entire body, and it’s a strange sensation, like the slowing of time, the blurring of everything around you but him. 

His arm is held to his front with a sling, and you try to ignore the way your stomach turns at the sight of it. It’s nothing to do with you, he doesn’t want you to care. He doesn’t even want to talk to you, and you don’t want to talk to him, either - not anymore. Not after almost 6 weeks of silence - of forcing yourself to think about anything but him, like you even could.

You offer a tight lipped smile and a wave to Ellie, and try to ignore his presence for as long as you can, try to watch the game, to focus on your friends in the stands beside you - only, he keeps looking back. Craning his neck, surveying the crowd as it fills up just to find you, and your heart starts to hammer in your chest every time you catch his eye.

What happened to him avoiding you at all costs? What happened to ignoring your attempts to talk, the knocks at his door, the pleading, persuasive looks you’d try to give him when it all got a little too much in the end. 

Why can’t he just let you slip away into nothingness, like it would be so much easier to do?

Your phone buzzes in your back pocket as you’re trying to focus on the game, the desire to flee growing by the second - cramped and claustrophobic in your seat, dying for a drink and a minute of reprieve away from the crowd, away from Luke and whatever weird telekinetic powers he has on your heart.

Luke: can we talk?

Luke: I’ll be at the closest concessions in 5

You slip your phone back into your pocket without responding, and by the time you look back down to where he had been stood, he’s gone. 

You should be relieved. 

Maybe if you ignore his message, he’ll stop looking at you.

Maybe this is where it ends, and you can finally let each other go - too far gone to fix, nothing left to say.

Only your legs are now moving, side stepping Molly and the other girls, along with the rest of the people in your row, and your mouth is apologising to those you bump into, and your feet are carrying you down the stairs to where you know he’ll be, sneakers squeaking against the sticky floor as you search for him in the small concessions queue.

He stands taller than most, waiting by the counter, facing the other way, and you take the second that his back is turned to you to reconsider.

Stuck in place, staring at broad shoulders you’d once spent tracing the freckles between while he slept, and wondering which might hurt more - walking away or hearing him out. 

He turns before you get the chance to choose, his eyes meeting yours , widening in surprise, as much as they can, considering his current predicament, and he immediately heads your way.

“Didn’t think you’d come,” Luke just about says as he precariously holds onto a plastic cup between his teeth, offering you the one in his free hand - what you assume is diet coke with ice sloshing a little over the rim and onto the already sticky floor. 

“Can hardly leave a one-armed man to navigate the concession stand on his own. Not one with your appetite, at least.” Your brows furrow when you notice the distinct lack of snacks in his hold, but you figure he prioritised using what little carrying capacity he had to get your drink. “Do you want me to hang around while you get something to eat? I can hold your drink,”

“I don’t have much of an appetite,” he says, clearer now that he can hold his cup in his hand instead of his mouth. “I’m on some pretty strong painkillers, can’t eat without feeling sick.”

“Oh,” you frown, eyeing the sling that holds his other arm. He had been fine when you left the lake house - and even last week, in Ellie’s story on instagram, he hadn’t seemed injured then. It must be a recent development, and so close to the season, for him to be out in public wearing a brace, it can’t be good. “What happened?”

“Took a pretty bad hit on the ice,” he shrugs with his other shoulder, lips turning down like he’s trying to play it off, “Been telling myself it’s karma.” The way he chuckles is distant and noncommittal, and not at all like all the ways you’re used to seeing him smile or laugh. His eyes don’t squint, his mouth barely turns up, barely pushes those tell-tale folds into his cheeks that you used to press at when he was close enough to do so. Back when being in such close proximity made your heart thump in a different way.

But maybe that’s for the best.

Maybe one of Luke Hughes’ signature crooked grins might have made you do something stupid, like touch him again. You’ve worked too hard to push away the feeling of wanting to for the past month. 

“Karma for what?” You ask instead, head tilting to survey the damage, like you’d even be able to see anything through the thick yellow hoodie he has on. It’s better than looking him in the eye, you think.

“For what I said to Cole,” he tells you, the shame that lines his words doing little to alleviate the way they so quickly jab at you, all the memories of that day and that conversation rushing back at you full-force. Memories you’ve worked really hard to suppress. “For hurting you. I probably deserved to get hurt, too.”

“I’d never want you to be hurt, Luke.” You say before you can think better of it, narrowed eyes meeting his finally, watching as they soften slightly, let your words sink in and melt like warm butter, seeping into his every pore and breaking down his hardened exterior. 

“Me neither,” he almost-whispers, “For you, I mean. I wouldn’t want you to be hurt.”

You nod, momentarily pressing your lips together, your focus dropping to a patch of lint on his hoody, clenching your free hand into a fist behind your back to save yourself from reaching out to pluck it off. 

“Is that all you wanted to see me for?”

You don’t want to be rude to him, but it’s hard, especially when every instinct in your body is telling you to push him away - to keep him at arms length where he can’t pull you back in. 

“No,” he utters quickly, his feet shuffling as if he wants to step forward, reduced the metaphorical distance you’re trying to force between the two of you. “I was hoping we could talk.”

You just about save yourself from having your jaw drop wide open.

You’d tried to talk to him last month, before you left, and he had wanted nothing more to do with you. 

“In the middle of a football game?” You frown, daring to glance up - taking notice of the panic in his eyes when he reads you like a book, can recognise your retreating form from a mile off, by now.

“No,” he blurts out, “No, I mean later, if you’re free. Somewhere else.”

“I don’t know-,”

“We’re having a barbecue back at the house,” he interrupts, a look on his face like he couldn’t possibly accept no for an answer. “Like an end of summer send-off thing, you should come over, I know the guys would want to say goodbye properly.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” you finish your earlier thought, “Besides, your family probably all hate me.”

“Why would they hate you?”

“Because of what happened with us,”

“Oh,” He frowns, “No, they don’t hate you, I promise, not even Jack.”

“I find that hard to believe,” you scoff - when he had helped Ellie move rooms back in the sorority house last week, he could barely even muster a smile to send your way. He hadn’t been his usual stand-offish self, but he had hardly been friendly, either. You didn’t expect laughs and hugs and welcome-backs, but after the two of you had kind of made up back at his cousin’s wedding, and things were finally solid between him and your best friend, you thought some kind of bridge had been built.

Apparently not.

“I didn’t tell them.”

“Oh,” you don’t know whether you feel relieved or disappointed. He can’t have been that heartbroken about the whole thing if he never told a soul, right? Even you told your mom when you got home - granted, she was a whole bottle of rosé deep into the night and seconds from falling into a wine coma, but you still at least acknowledged your feelings to somebody. 

What did he do, just bottle all whatever feelings remained up and send them off down the lake? Enjoy the rest of his summer like you never happened?

“I didn’t think you’d want me to,” he continues, “You never really liked me talking about us with other people, so I didn’t.”

“Right,” you nod, biting your tongue to save from throwing out a bitter, thanks. You spent the last month watching heart-wrenching sad movies in your bed all day and he just went about his life like the two of you were nothing That’s fine. That’s cool.

“Ellie’ll be there,” he tries again, like she won’t be attached to Jack’s hip all night and you’ll be left on your own. “And a few of the Michigan guys, if you need a ride back to campus. I’d offer to drive you, but,” he nods down to his arm, “Or you can stay, your room is still free.”

Yourroom. Like you have any claim on any part of his world, still.

“I’ll think about it,” you tell him, because you can’t fully bring yourself to say no to his face. It’ll be easier when you’re back home, later, and can just ignore his texts, if he even cares enough to send any. “I should get back.”

“I can walk you back,”

“You shouldn’t be in a crowd with your arm,” your head shakes and you step back, your body language saying more than your lips even dare. “It’s fine. Thanks for the drink.”

“No problem.” He chews at the corner of his lip as he watches you retreat, like he has more to say. 

Despite spending the last month doing everything in your power to wipe your thoughts clean of Luke Hughes, you want nothing more than to hear it - but where you’ve been suffering and relating every pathetic, sad song you hear back to him and fighting every urge to reach out through fear of rejection, he’s been ignoring your entire existence. Repressing whatever feelings he may have had and neglecting any instinct he might have had to reach out, too. 

“Promise me you will?” He calls out when you’re a little ways down the tunnel, causing you to turn back to see him in the same spot, “Think about it, I mean. I’d really like to talk to you.”

Your fingers tense at the mere mention of a promise tumbling from his lips, your pinky sending signals to your feet to run straight back to him, practically itching to reach out and link with his. Instead, you nod, eyes darting to the big M that stretches across his chest, easier to look at that and lie than into his hopeful gaze. 

“Sure,” you tell him, because you can hardly make a promise you can’t keep. 

Not to Luke.

You’re not coming.

Luke realistically knew as much when Ellie arrived on her own - immediately going over to Jack and sparing Luke a glance out of the corner of her eye as she whispered to his brother.

But it’s taken him almost 2 hours to really come to terms with the fact - to stop keeping an eye on the door and whipping his head around any time a newcomer enters the house. 

He should have known when you refused to make a promise to him - not like you owed him anything in the first place. Should have known when the few attempts you made at joking around with him like old times, you’d barely mustered a smile - that familiar glint in your eye that shone only for him watered down into a dull gaze you refused to hold. 

God, he’s an idiot, he thinks.

He should have spoken to you when he had the chance - those few times you had tried to offer an olive branch, pushing a pre-poured glass of juice his way at breakfast or making space for him on the couch he’s now conveniently slumped on, all alone.

It feels a little like a lost cause now, trying to reignite some sort of spark between the two of you - not when you won’t even hear him out.

He’d felt a bit of hope when you’d met him at the stadium, thinking his text might have been left on read - and even though he’d made the effort to buy you a drink, he hadn’t entirely expected you to turn up. 

He thinks maybe that had been the first thing to throw him for a loop - arranging a meeting on a whim and you actually making an appearance. Maybe that’s why he couldn’t form a coherent sentence, or relay any sort of confidence in himself or what he was trying to sell you on. 

Maybe that’s why he couldn’t convince you to come.

He can’t blame you - your last 10 days here at the house had been miserable, on his account, and if he was in your shoes, he wouldn’t come back, either. He wouldn’t hear himself out, wouldn’t forgive himself.

The night of Ellie’s party should have been where he drew the line at avoiding you - the initial aftermath of your fight still sizzling, too hot to touch while the both of you were still reeling.

The morning after, he had been hungover - throwing back drinks like nobody’s business just to drown you out - and there was no chance of having a serious conversation, then, even though he had woke up alone in his bed wanting nothing more than for you to be there.

He’d gone downstairs sometime in the early afternoon, ignoring his growling stomach until he couldn’t do it any more , and had trudged into the kitchen only to find you there with Cole.

The bitterness within him fought violently with his need to puke, and he stormed back up to his room, no longer having any sort of appetite, and stayed there for the rest of the day.

The days that followed were no better - avoiding you at every given opportunity, ignoring your pleading eyes, leaving no chance for you to speak to him, despite all the times he could see that you wanted to. He’d leave every room you entered, turn away from every conversation you joined, and the final nail in the coffin was probably the time he ignored you knocking on his bedroom door one night, the soft call of his name feeling like a knife that twisted in his gut. 

You were gone the next day - your bedroom door open and the room empty when he walked past, your seat at the table vacant when he came downstairs for breakfast, and he seemed to be the only one who didn’t know. Ellie seemed unbothered, already having moved into Jack’s room, Quinn was drinking the green tea you had bought, that no one else was supposed to touch, Alex probably wouldn’t have cared either way, and Cole was already talking about meeting up with some other girl.

“Wow,” Luke had scoffed, throwing himself into the chair beside Cole’s and sneaking a peak at his phone screen, suddenly feeling a burning need to call the guy out. He was to the entire reason you called things off with Luke, and now he was talking to someone else? “Her bed isn’t even cold and you’re already moving on, huh?”

Ellie had glared at him from across the table, and Jack had frowned too, no doubt wondering why after 10 days of complete silence about the whole thing, he was daring to bring you up now.

“What are you talking about?” Cole chuckled, leaning back in his chair and raising a brow at Luke, who just said your name in response, with a pointed stare. “What about her?”

“Thought you were ending your summer with a girlfriend.” 

“Dude, where the hell have you been?” Cole snorted, amused, if anything, “She couldn’t have turned me down quicker if she tried. Man to man, don’t ever follow instructions from that one,” he pointed over to Ellie, “She led me on a wild goose chase all summer just so that I’d help her get her guy.”

“Hey!” Ellie called from across the table, “It’s not my fault you have no game. And I would have gotten my guy just fine without your help.”

Before Cole could retort, spurred on by the way Jack was chucking by her side, Luke frowned, straightening in his chair. “She didn’t want to go out with you?”

“No, but before you say anything, it has nothing to do with my game, alright? She’s into someone else, I guess.”

“Someone else?” Luke’s eyes darted over to Ellie, who just rolled hers in response, turning her attention back to Jack before she excused herself from the table.

“That’s my guess,” Cole shrugged, “She said she wasn’t into me like that, but come on.”

Wasn’t into him?

That wasn’t what you had said to Luke.

“Sorry man,” Luke offered, absentmindedly, head craning to see which direction Ellie left in. “As you were.”

He jogged out of the kitchen and up the stairs, just about catching her before she disappeared into her and Jack’s room. “Hey, wait,” he had called, watching as she let out a heavy sigh and turned to look at him with narrowed eyes. “She turned him down?”

“Did you not just have this exact conversation with Cole?”

“Ellie, c’mon,” he pleaded, desperation creeping up inside - feeling a little too much like guilt, and causing a serious discomfort in the pit of his stomach. “She said she wanted to date him.”

“You’re so unbelievably stupid.”

It didn’t quite hit the same as when you said it, shame washing over him at the way Ellie was glaring at him. 

“She heard you tell him that she wasn’t girlfriend material, and that she would just be hard work, and not worth his time. Lucky for you, she didn’t hear the bullshit you said before that.” Regret formed like a heavy ball in his gut, the weight of it almost pushing him to keel over. “She said whatever she had to to get you off her back because it hurt her less to push you away.”

“I don’t-,”

“And you’re the dumbass who just let her do it.”

That’s not fair, he thought. What was he supposed to do, just watch you move on without a care in the world, cheering you on with a stupid grin on his face while his whole heart crumbled to pieces at the thought of you being with anybody else?

“I’m not a mind reader, Ellie,” he tried to defend himself, “I can’t keep pushing at a door that won’t open.”

“My God, do you have a peanut for a brain, Luke?” She had shoved at his chest, “She’s been holding the door open for the last ten days, and all you’ve done is walk past it. She wanted to talk to you, and you wouldn’t even look at her!”

“I wasn’t ready! I thought she-,” 

He had thought you had taken Cole up on his offer of taking you out - had thought that’s the conversation he had stumbled into the day after the party - and he didn’t want to risk hearing anything about it, or seeing it in action.

“She said it didn’t matter.”

You had said that - he had asked you straight up, so there was no confusing it, but when he tried to remember, he can’t picture your eyes as you did. He must not have been looking, he thought, or maybe you weren’t looking at him. Either way, how’s he supposed to muster up a clear idea of your intentions if he can’t remember the look in your eyes as you spoke them. 

You couldn’t lie to him - you never could, even in the beginning, pretending to be aloof, pretending you weren’t into him, he could always see through you, back then, so why didn’t he try harder when it was something he didn’t want to hear?

“She’s really gone home? Not just back to Ann Arbor?”

“What are you gonna do?” Ellie scoffed, folding her arms across her chest, “Chase her down?”

“I don’t know, if I have to. We need to talk.”

“She’s probably back at her mom’s by now, she left pretty early. And I think it’s for the best if you leave her alone, Luke. She gave you a hundred chances to talk.”

“What am I supposed to do? I can’t just leave things like this, I made a mistake, I need her to know that, I need her to know I’m sorry.”

“It’s better if you both just cool off a little. She’s hurt that you’ve been ignoring her, it isn’t fair to keep playing hot and cold with her feelings.”

“That’s not what I-,”

“I know.” Ellie sighed, leaning against the wall and giving him a pitiful look as she finally took in just how panicked he had become, running hands through his hair and shifting between his feet. “Just give it time, that way you can both think about it, think about what you want to say without just saying things and not meaning them.”

And that’s all Luke has been doing since then.

Thinking about what he wants to say to you - thinking about how to fix things. All without knowing when it is that he would even see you again, or if you’d be willing to listen. 

He’d distracted himself with it - his mind stuck on just how bad he had messed things up, and it had put him into a rut - so much so, that he ended up hurting himself in training, an injury that would have him out for a good couple of months. And he had meant it, when he told you he thought it was karma, because he deserved a reality check, he thinks. It had shifted things into perspective, at least - because now he could stay in town a little longer, could try and make amends before he had to go home and properly start his season.

And when he’d noticed Ellie scanning the crowd back at the game, had followed her beaming smile all the way to you in the crowd, he thought his heart had stopped.

It had been 4 weeks since he’d seen you last - almost 6 since he’d spoken to you. Since he’d touched you, or kissed you, or seen you smile, and when your eyes meet his from the stands, widened and hesitant, he could tell you were feeling the same.

An insurmountable longing for something the two of you should never have thrown away.

He saw the truth, then, even as you looked away and diverted your attention back to Ellie - the truth he was too hurt to notice all those weeks ago back in your room in the lake house. 

That you felt the same way - you always had - you just weren’t used to it. Weren’t used to loving someone, or having them love you.

But he can’t quite tell if you still feel it.

He can’t expect you to, not with how reserved you’ve become.

He sighs, sinking into the cushions of the couch, legs stretched out and head thrown against the back as he squints against the light - the noise around him dwindling to a constant buzz. 

He’s too caught up in his head to notice when Ellie sinks down beside him until she nudges at his side, and he slowly looks her way.

“If it helps at all, I could tell she wanted to come.”

Luke snorts out a humourless laugh, eyes rolling. “If she wanted to come, she’d be here.” He says, the muscles in his jaw tensing. “She doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

“She doesn’t really open up to people,” Ellie sighs, and he can tell from the way she’s looking at him that’s only divulging this from a place of pity, although he guesses that’s better than her saying nothing at all. “It took us years to get to where we are, and even now I’m not sure she lets me all the way in, and we’re supposed to be best friends.”

“I feel like I don’t even know if she was ever into me in the first place,” he mutters, tracing at a scratch in the surface of the table. Even if he had thought different, back in the stadium, he can’t be so sure now that you haven’t shown. You’d have come if you still cared. “I’m still confused by the whole Cole thing-,”

“That was my fault,” Ellie interjects, “I thought I was doing the right thing, I didn’t realise that you two were-,” her teeth clash as she bites down, as if to stop saying the word, together. “Whatever you were. And she just got all in her head after she heard you saying all that stuff, it’s what she does, keeps her cards close to her chest until she loses them all.”

“That’s the problem, El,” Luke groans, “If she really liked me, she would have told you. If she was ever serious, you’d have known something was up. She wouldn’t have hidden it from her best friend and told me that she was gonna go out with Cole after all.”

“You know she turned him down, Luke, he said himself, she was into someone else.”

“Yeah, or so he assumed,” he grumbles, recalling the feeling he got when Cole had said as much, back on the day you left.

“And you know on my birthday when she overheard that conversation, she’d literally just told me that she liked you. That’s big for her, Luke. It might have taken her a while but she got there in the end. It’s your own fault for having such a big mouth and ruining it.”

“I told her I didn’t mean it,” he can’t help how whiney he sounds, lips pouting and a crease forming between his eyebrows. “I told her I was sorry.”

“And then you ignored her for almost two weeks until she had no choice but to leave. You don’t get to claim the moral high ground here, I’m sorry.”

“So what am I supposed to do? She won’t talk to me.”

“You just have to give her time, don’t give up again.” Ellie nudges him a little too forcefully, the sharp jut of her elbow in his ribs causing him to wince. “Really think about if there’s a version of you that could be friends.”

“What if I don’t want to be friends, what if I don’t wanna keep taking one step forward and three back?” 

“Then think about if you’d rather be nothing at all.”

“She hates me that much?”

“I don’t know, she stopped talking to me about it.” Ellie huffs, leaning back a little more into the couch. “But I’d take that as a no. If she hated you, neither of us would hear the end of it, trust me.”

He knows that’s true - all the odd comments you’d drop about Jack back in the beginning of summer. He knows you never hated Jack, but there was always a clear dislike, and you were never shy about voicing it to anyone willing to listen.

If you’re not talking about him at all, it means one of two things. You either give so little of a shit about him that you don’t see a use in bringing him up, or you don’t want to show vulnerability by admitting how much he hurt you.

He knows what he’d put his money on.

“Can’t you talk to her for me? Put a good word in?” He pleads, rounding his eyes in the hopes that Ellie’s pity extends to doing him a solid - he dedicated his entire summer to getting her and Jack together, after all.

“I think it’s best for the both of us if I stay out of her love life. My meddling is what got you guys into this mess in the first place.”

Luke sighs as he resumes his previous position, neck thrown against the back of the couch and eyes cast to the ceiling. 

Your room is right above - the bed on which you’d kissed him that first time, away from your scheming at the mall, still made and empty. The bed where you two would lay atop the covers, watching movies on the old staticky TV, sharing snacks between you and spouting commentary into the night.

He wonders, then, if you’d watched anything since the last time - before you left - and it’s that thought that has him pushing himself up and making his way up the stairs. 

Despite the amount of time since you were in here, it still kind of smells like you - like melon sunscreen and passionfruit perfume - and he casts a glance around for anything that might remain.

There’s nothing, though. No loose hair ties, forgotten jewellery, not even a book left behind.

And then he checks by the TV - the shelf below it housing a DVD player, and he powers it up just to press eject.

After a few seconds, a disc spins out.

Silver Linings Playbook, with Bradley Cooper and Jennifer Lawrence.

He might have seen it once or twice, can vaguely remember some of the storyline, but it isn’t until everybody has left the house a good hour or two later that he thinks he should watch it - if it’s the last movie you watched before you left - just to get an idea of your headspace. 

When he’s lounging on his own bed, the movie playing on his TV, Jennifer’s Tiffany saying to Bradley’s Pat, “I used to think that you were the best thing that ever happened to me, but now I think that you might maybe be the worst thing. And I'm sorry that I ever met you.” And it turns his stomach in a way he isn’t prepared for, tears pricking at his eyes at the thought of you watching this and thinking the same.

And then Pat responds, and Luke sits with the line for a good minute, pausing the movie as he ponders the response, "Good for you. Come on, let's go dance.” 

He wonders if you smiled the same way - soft and small, hopeful that one day the punches you throw to defend yourself are met with the same resistance, with a hand that grabs at them, and instead of fighting back, just pulls you closer.

It’s almost by instinct that he pulls his phone out, loading up the same app he always does when he’s watching a movie, ready to fill in a review when it gets to a part that resonates with him.

And there you are, on his friends feed - the last movie you logged being an hour ago, La La Land, which you had unsurprisingly given 5 stars, and had reviewed with just a quote - It’s pretty strange that we keep bumping into each other. Maybe it means something.

And he grins, really and genuinely beams, for what feels like the first time in a while, a small chuckle rumbling up from his chest as he checks for your review on Silver Linings - the same quote he loved so much sitting there under your 5 star rating. 

He doesn’t want to be nothing, he decides, then, like it was ever in question. 

And he realises it’s up to him to do something about it.

Luke’s first thought when it comes to fixing thing is to text you.

It’s simple, and it should be easy, but he sits staring at your name in his phone for 30 minutes trying to think of what would be best to say.

A casual, hey, in the hopes that you’d just instinctively type it back.

A call out, like, Bummed you couldn’t come over the other night, thinking you might have been feeling guilty.

A question, or even an invite, along the lines of, Do you want to meet somewhere? Because leaving someone hanging on an invite is just plain cruel.

But then he feels like he doesn’t want to force your hand - weirdly inspired by that La La Land quote you loved so much, about bumping into each other.

Only orchestrating a chance encounter was hard when you weren’t going out. Ellie had mentioned everybody going for drinks at one of the bars on campus, and you never turned up.

She told him your favourite coffee shop, and despite him hanging around all day one time, like a total creep, he didn’t catch sight of you once.

You weren’t with Ellie when he bumped into her at the mall, or at the diner, when he had gone for burgers with the guys and seen a few of your sorority sisters on the other side of the restaurant.

And even when Ellie had told him to come over to the house, that she’d take him into town to pick up some suits, because he was still in his sling and couldn’t drive himself, he had been disheartened to find out you wouldn’t be there - that you had a morning class, and Ellie hadn’t even seen you.

He settles for looking at the cute photo of you and Ellie on the mantle, greek letters painted on your cheeks, beaming smiles as you looked straight into the camera, and he still gets that twinge in his chest even looking at a photo.

A twinge that only grows when he hears a gasp from behind him, and he swiftly turns to see you at the bottom of the staircase, looking back at him, alarmed and surprised.

Luke’s eyes trail slowly up your bare legs, his throat going dry as they land on the oversized shirt you’re wearing - his shirt, he’s pretty sure, although he knows it’s probably best not to comment on that - before cutting up to your face, wide eyes staring back at him.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, stepping back toward the staircase where you rest your hand on the bannister, putting as much distance between the two of you as you can without completely retreating up the stairs. 

“I uh-,” he stutters, losing his train of thought as he stands there with his mouth agape, taking you in.

He hadn’t been prepared to see you, that much is clear - and especially not like this, dressed in his shirt, which you’ve obviously slept in, hair a little messy, skin bare of any makeup. It reminds him of those mornings in his bed, waking up before the rest of the house, your body bathed in the soft glow from the rising sun, trading sleepy kisses until you would sneak back off to your room.

It makes him yearn for that, again, and feelings like that need some kind of forewarning, otherwise they serve nothing but to make him ache.

“I said I’d drive him to an appointment,” Ellie says as she emerges from the kitchen, car keys in hand, “I though everyone had class this morning, you’re not gonna hand me in for having a guy in the house, are you?”

“I’m not a snitch,” you frown, tugging at the ends of his shirt, “I slept in, I didn’t think anyone else was here either.”

He didn’t exactly need the confirmation, considering your current state, but knowing you slept in his shirt makes the heat creep up his neck, his chest puffing as he really takes in the meaning of it.

So many things about you are screaming that you want nothing to do with him, but you’re sleeping in his old Michigan shirt, one you’d borrowed when your shoulders were burning out on a wakeboarding trip one day, he’s pretty sure - one he never even realised you kept.

“Do you need a ride?” She offers, stepping beside Luke, close enough that in order to look at Ellie, you pretty much have to look his way too, and every time you glance at him, he catches you. “We were gonna go get a drink before, so we’re heading your way anyway. Or you could come with, if you’re skipping."

“Uh, no,” you decline, without even thinking about it, Luke’s chest feeling a little tighter at just how quick you are to avoid being near him. “I’m gonna go to the library.”

“I could still drive you. I doubt you’d mind a detour, would you, Lukey?”

“No,” he breathes out, almost immediately, eyes staying on you. “I don’t mind.”

“It’s fine,” you offer Ellie a tight lipped smile, “I’ll walk.”

And that’s that - your figure retreating back up the stairs before Luke has anything to say about it, his shoulders slumping as Ellie offers a friendly pat to his back.

“C’mon then, I need to stop for gas, you’re paying.”

He follows Ellie out to the back of the house, where the girls usually park their cars off the street, and just as he’s climbing into Ellie’s Mini, he glances up to the one of the windows, just in time to catch the quick shift of a curtain.

“Don’t worry,” Ellie says as he adjusts the passenger seat, folding his long legs into the limited space, an assured smile sent his way before she starts up the car. “I’ve got a plan.”

“What happened to no more meddling?” He huffs as he buckled himself in.

“I can’t sit back and watch my best friend become boring trying to avoid you, Luke,” she sighs, “It’s borderline painful.” 

—

You don’t know when managing your social life became Ellie’s full time job - as if the two of you aren’t tumbling into the depths of your final year of school with very little direction or guidance - but you’re growing tired of it, quick.

First, it had been, you’re coming to the bar and I’m not taking no for an answer, except, she had taken no for an answer, she just relished in making you feel bad for it after.

Then it had been, I need your opinion on halloween costumes, and she had insisted you join her at the mall, but you had an appointment with the careers counsellor that you really couldn’t miss, and she had to settle with sending you photos, again adding incessant messages about how she wouldn’t let you turn down the next invitation out.

Never mind trying to avoid bumping into Luke during his extended stay, avoiding Ellie was becoming a real task - slipping out before she can corner you in the mornings and staying out most of the day.

She caught you off guard, the other day, though - inviting Luke around. Sure, you were supposed to be in class - would have been, if your alarm had gone off on time - but still, bringing him into your space was like crossing a line, breaking an unspoken rule.

She’s supposed to be on your side. She isn’t supposed to be bringing the guy who hurt you into your house and driving him around town like his personal assistant, all from the good of her heart.

She’s just trying to kiss up to Jack.

At least, you thought so, until she sent you a text later that day - a bunch of pictures of Luke in different suits, tailored perfectly to his lean figure, shirts that stretched taut across his broad shoulders and pants that clung perfectly to his hips, followed by the message, thoughts?

You had many, but none that you could possibly sent to her - only replying with a question mark until she apologised, claiming they were meant for Jack’s approval.

It became clear then, what she was doing - flaunting him in front of you until you burst at the seams, like one of those jackets looked like it was going to do in a few of the pictures from the back of Luke in the tailor shop. Sending you those had been no accident.

And that’s why you were sceptical when the weekend rolled around, and she was begging and pleading for you to go with her to a party at the hockey house - promising you that he was finally heading back to Jersey, and definitely wasn’t going to be around.

She’d buttered you up with groans of, I feel like I never see you anymore, and, school is stressing me out, already, I just want to let loose with my best friend!

And it was the promise that she’d let you wear a skirt you’ve been eyeing in her closet for the past two years that sealed the deal - a vintage Diesel mini that she had thrifted and guarded like her whole life depended on it. 

You can’t help it, anyway - it’s been so long since you’ve been out like that - probably summer being the last time - and you need to let loose too.

And that’s how you end up walking hand in hand through the front door, Ellie having styled your hair, the two of you looking like a million dollars, and it’s the first time in months that you aren’t disturbed by the feeling of eyes on you.

You kind of feel like your old self - confident, self-assured, like there isn’t a soul on earth who could possibly make you doubt yourself.

You wish the universe gave you at least five minutes to sit with that feeling before you saw him. 

Before you saw Luke, sling-free, bottle in hand, leaning against the wall, talking to Victoria Anderson, a girl you know he has history with - a girl you have history with, yourself.

You hate how quick the switch within you flips - the slight slump of your posture, the tension in your jaw, all your self-worth seeping from your pores like your body is actively trying to kill it.

Your hand slips from Ellie’s, immediately heading in the opposite direction to where Luke is - making a bee-line straight for the kitchen, straight for a drink.

Ellie is hot on your heels, grasping at your arm to keep up, “I’m sorry,” she calls after you.

“You said he wouldn’t be here,” you grumble, shoving through the swinging door and heading straight for the line of bottles on the counter. 

“What am I, his keeper?” She scoffs, trying to play it off as a lighthearted joke, but you can see it in her eyes that she knew. “I don’t know where he’s gonna be at all hours of the day.”

“You said he was going back to Jersey.”

“Yeah, well, I must have got my days mixed up!”

“Yeah, right,” you scoff, pouring out a shot from the first bottle you find without even reading the label, and throwing it back before you can think twice. You pour yourself a proper drink, after - a vodka with diet coke - and sip at it just to cool your nerves, trying to calm yourself down.

You don’t want to be mad at Ellie - whatever she’s doing, she’s doing it because she cares - but you’re so tired of overthinking this whole thing. All you want is a break from it all, and no one is willing to give you one.

“I’m gonna go find Ethan,” you tell her, figuring you can kill two birds with one stone - ask him about the class you missed the other morning, and avoid speaking to Luke, “If you want to make this up to me, I need you to tell Luke to steer clear, okay?”

“Fine,” she scowls, rolling her eyes as she has to pour her own drink.

You storm off back toward the door, and just as you get close, it swings open, the edge of it knocking straight into you - into the hand holding your freshly poured drink, which is now dripping down your front.

Your whole body tenses at the sensation of the liquid seeping through your shirt, only momentarily thankful that you hadn’t added ice before you remember the coke - remember the vintage skirt, with the light denim wash.

You hear Ellie groan from behind you, and you squeeze your eyes shut in the hopes that you’ll magically gain some sort of time travelling superpower - a rewind button, like Click.

“Are you okay?”

Of course it had to be him, you think - because you’ve somehow unsettled the entire balance of the universe, and this is how it’s decided to repay you, your eyes opening to find those concerned, grey-green eyes peering back at you. 

He takes the empty cup that’s being squished in your grip and tosses it into a trash can to the side before you feel a hesitant hand on your side, watching as he surveys the damage.

“And here I thought that skirt couldn’t get uglier.”

Victoria’s piercing blue eyes gleam back at you, a sinister smirk plastered on her lips, and you’re lunging before you even know it until a strong arm curls around your waist, the heat of his skin slipping straight into the gap between your skirt and t-shirt, and sending a shiver straight down the spine that’s now pressed to his front.

“Hey, c’mon,” he warns, pulling you back with enough force that there’s a good couple of feet between you and Victoria now, and her eyes narrow at all the points he’s touching you. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You think you only let him guide you away to piss her off - and it isn’t until he’s ushering you into the small downstairs bathroom and closing the door behind him that you realise how little consideration you put into that.

You watch as Luke retrieves a towel from the small cupboard by the door, forgetting he probably still knows this place like the back of his hand, and starts to work at the front of your t-shirt before you snatch it away.

“I’ve got it, thanks.” You snap, entirely frustrated with the whole situation than you think you are with him, a small swirling of guilt immediately bubbling up inside you. 

You dab at the skirt, first, hoping there’s some way that it’s salvageable, or Ellie’s going to murder you. You lean against the counter by the sink, and glance down at the damage. It looks just like a water stain, for now, unfortunately placed, but you won’t know for sure until it dries, and dabbing at it with a towel isn’t really going to fix that.

“Did she hurt your hand?” Luke asks, low voice breaking the silence you were starting to cherish, and it’s only then that you realise where the door hit you. Your knuckles ache a little, but you can still flex your fingers, so you figure they’ll just be bruised tomorrow.

You do wish you could have bruised them another way - maybe with a fist to Victoria Anderson’s smug grin - but you’re supposed to be a pacifist, so maybe not. If anyone’s going to break that pattern, it would be her - your rival in every way ever since you came to Michigan. Academically, in all the same classes, socially, in opposing sororities, and even romantically, with her somehow always looking out for the same guys.

She’d even been at one of the parties back at the lake house, with her hands all over Luke - you remember hearing her shrill laugh and feeling like someone had just drug their nails down a chalkboard, all semblance of peace instantly lost. 

You’re brought out of whatever fiery daydream even her name elicits with the touch of Luke’s fingers to yours, the soft brush of his thumb over your knuckles as he checks for any real damage.

“I’m fine,” you croak out, dazed a little by the feeling before you tear your hand away, “It was just a knock.”

“You want me to kick her ass?”

You blame the shot you took for the way you snort out a laugh - caught by surprise and unable to even consider the reaction, slipping straight back into your unguarded self around him - like the walls you’ve tried so hard to rebuild just dissolved. Not even a knock or a tumble of bricks, just them fading into nothing like magic.

Luke smiles back, soft and hesitant, like he’s waiting for you to fade away, too.

And then there’s that silence you thought you wanted - heavy and tense, and it’s too much for you to handle, so you slip past him, wordlessly, and head straight back to the door. 

And just as your fingers grasp at the handle and you prepare yourself to pull, a large hand lays flat on the surface beside you, trapped by a warm chest closing in on your back.

It’s quiet for a minute, the dull thump of the bass from the music somewhere else in the house now distant and fading, and the room feels charged way beyond the atmosphere of the party you’ve been away from a little too long.

You see the bend in his elbow before you feel his breath on the back of your neck, and you can feel the distance closing - an inch or two now, so close that you have to stay vigilant not to take even the slightest step back.

“Luke,” you breathe, your throat stinging in preparation for some sort of hurt, and your lip trembling until you start to chew on it.

“Just one more minute.”

“You have to let me go.”

“Please, I just want to talk.”

You turn, slowly,  and you don’t know why you do it to yourself, because it’s inevitable you’ll fall prey to the pleading look in his eyes. Your back falls against the door, and you’re craning your neck to look up at him, blinking slow as his eyes flicker between your own.

Every passing second feels like a minute, and just as you’re about to give in - to tell him to go ahead and talk, the door vibrates behind you, a fist banging into the other side.

“Please tell me the skirt is okay!”

You press a hand flat to his chest and push, wedging some much needed space between the two of you - enough that you can swing the door open and face Ellie, and save yourself from plunging into whatever rabbit hole that would have taken you down.

“I won’t know until it’s dry, but if it’s bad, we’ll take it to the cleaners, okay?”

“Ugh,” Ellie groans, grabbing you by the hand and dragging you back to the kitchen for another drink, “I’m so running her ass over the next time I see her on the street.”

You look back at Luke, still stood in the doorway, watching the whole way until you disappear around the corner, and it’s only when you can’t see him anymore that your heart rate returns to an acceptable speed.

You successfully manage to avoid Luke for a good couple of hours, almost forgetting him, miraculously, despite being in a house filled with his closest friends. There’s even a point where you think he might have left, until you stumble out into the backyard to a group setting up a small fire to keep warm.

You’re too buzzed to comment on the legality of it, so far gone that the thought of campus police coming around barely even crosses your mind, and you throw yourself down into one of the camp chairs with a drink in hand as the group discuss how to pass the time.

You can’t remember who suggests Never Have I Ever, too distracted by the figure settling down on the opposite side of the fire, long limps stretching almost comically out of the small chair, meeting your eyes for a moment before you look away at the arrival of Nick, who comes with cards in hand. 

You’d usually make some sort of comment about how juvenile it is, but there’s this part of you that’s probably trying to cling a little to that, lately, so you let it pass, leaning almost sleepily back into your chair as it kicks off.

The game is pretty tame compared to other times you’ve played it, stuff like, never have I ever crashed a car, and, never have I ever broken a bone, coming from the top of the deck, and there’s only a few complaints about it needing more spice before it gets to Ellie’s turn to pick, a few people down from you. 

“Never have I ever,” Ellie drags out before picking a card, flipping between her manicured fingers and smiling slowly as she reads the rest, “Been in love,” she coos, turning it to show the rest of the group with a love-struck grin.

A chorus of groans sing out from around the circle, Luca reaching to swipe the card from Ellie as she takes a big chug from her red cup. “That’s so lame,” he huffs, “Pick another, this isn’t the Ellie show. We get it, you're happy, doesn't mean the rest of us should suffer.”

You glance down at your empty cup as the two of them start to argue about the rules of the game, Ellie grumbling how she didn’t write the cards, and Luca retorting with how she could have at least gone off-script to make it a little more interesting.

If you had any semblance of your inhibitions, any control of your reactions, your gaze would have stayed on the last few drops swirling around the base of your drink. Your eyes wouldn’t have trailed up slowly, past the dancing flames of the makeshift-campfire, and fallen onto another cup at the opposite side of the circle.

It wouldn’t have watched intently as long, slender fingers raised to bring said cup up, pressing to parted lips, the contents gulped down as you stare at the movement of his throat around the liquid.

When you dare to look higher, you find him already staring back at you, piercing green eyes burning hotter than the fire between you, and your own throat goes dry as you watch. 

And of course he makes a show of it, squaring his shoulders and swiping a thumb across his bottom lip to make sure there's no residue. No evidence of all that he had just admitted to. Nothing but the memory of it burned already into the back of your retinas, lingering like an ache all the way down your spine.

No one else seems to notice - but you suppose that’s just how things go between you and Luke. One more secret to add to the ever-growing pile.

Your hand trembles as if it wants to copy him, but you’re thankful for the last shred of dignity you have that tells you that even if you wanted to drink - even if you could play it off as assuming the question had been vetoed, and you were just quenching your thirst in the brief break in the game - there’s nothing left. Even if you wanted to drink - which you brain is so loudly telling you that you don’t - you can’t.

And when Luke’s gaze shifts, lowers painstakingly slow as everything else fades to background noise around the two of you, you don’t know why you find yourself tilting your cup when his eyes land on it, making a show of just how empty it is.

“You’re not gonna drink?” Ethan frowns from beside you, a nudge of his elbow knocking at yours and bringing you back down to earth with a painful splat.

Why would he assume that?

“What?” You ask, frowning as you meet his chocolate brown eyes, the reflection of the flames basking them in a warm, melting glow. 

“He said never have I ever been kicked out of a bar,” he chuckles, quirking a brow as your face morphs from one of confusion to one of recollection. “I know for a fact you have.”

“Oh, right,” you laugh, nervously, the reaction coming out more like a stuttered breath as the panic swirling in your chest dissipates just the slightest. “I’m running on empty. I’m gonna go get a refill.”

Ethan nods as he shuffles a little to let you out of the circle, watching with narrowed eyes as you lift yourself from the chair and edge your way out of the group and back towards the house.

The kitchen is thankfully empty when you get back inside, sliding the door shut behind you to block out the noise, your thoughts overbearing enough without still being able to hear everyone yelling out in the yard.

You move almost on autopilot, heading for the row of bottles on the counter and reaching straight for the vodka you’ve been mixing with diet coke all night.

You pour out a measured shot first, swirl it in the cup before lifting the it straight to your lips, leaving little room to think much more about it, and throwing your head back.

The liquid burns the whole way down - all the way from the back of your mouth, past your aching chest, and into the pit of your stomach, pooling there in a nauseating bubble of heat and regret - and you don’t know entirely if the need to drink was just to quench your thirst, to alleviate the warmth spiking up your neck, to quell the rampant beating of your heart, or to play along with the game. With Luke’s game.

Maybe some mysteries are better left unsolved. 

He wasn’t in love with you.

You think you’d know. He would have told you - he’s hardly shy about voicing his opinion, you learned that the hard way. 

He’s just being cruel, now, you’ve convinced yourself - probably payback for earlier, for leaving him in the bathroom and telling him to let you go. One final act of defiance, because he has to have the last word.

God, why would you even play along?

You shouldn’t have even looked his way - should have kept your eyes down, then you wouldn’t still be feeling like your whole body is on fire. 

Your eyes dart up at the sound of the screen door opening, and your heart thuds in your chest at the sight of who walks through.

You hold your breath as he slowly makes his way toward you - cautious steps carrying him toward the counter where you stand, and he places his empty cup on the surface beside yours, 

“You can’t avoid me forever.”

“I don’t have to avoid you forever,” you shrug, circling around him and trying not to let him trap you again, “I just have to avoid you until you go home.”

“I don’t want to go home without us talking,” he grasps at your wrist before you can fully get past him, levelling you with a tired look, one that says he’s resigned to his fate, but he can’t rest until he tries one last time. “Please.”

“Luke,” you groan, the remnants of intoxication slowly fading into exhaustion. 

“Just one conversation.” He begs, “Then you can be done with me, I’ll leave you alone.”

Your lips twist as you try not to give under the weight of his softened, pleading gaze. He’s persistent, you’ll give him that - and he’s technically surpassed the efforts you had made back before you left the house toward the end of summer, now almost 3 weeks since you had turned him down back at the football game. 

And do you really want him to leave you alone? You’re not entirely sure. Maybe talking to him can help you finally figure that out. 

“Fine.” You acquiesce. “One conversation.”

“You want me to walk you home?” He asks, his voice soft and low, a tilt to his head that makes his curls shuffle and a caring glint in his eye that makes your legs feel like jelly. It’s probably for the best if he does, you think, you’re at a serious fall-risk now. Tired and buzzed, a lethal combination.

You nod, wordlessly, watching as he seemingly tries to fight a small smile, straightening up to swipe your cup, stacking it with his own and throwing it in the trash. 

“C’mon, I already gave Ellie a heads up, I’ll come back for her.”

You soften a little at the thought of him considering her - even if it isn’t about you. If it’s on Jack’s behalf, and he’s just being a good brother, him looking out for your best friend is still sweet.

You let him guide you out of the house, and it’s quiet in a way you can’t stand, walking side by side down the otherwise empty street.

“You’re out of your sling, then?” You don’t know why you feel better to make small talk - but waiting with bated breath for him to say what he’s been trying to for so long now makes your heart pound almost painfully against your ribcage. 

“Yeah,” he flexes his arm a little, as if to prove a point. “I’m back in Jersey at the end of the week, will probably be doing no contact training for a while.”

“How long until you’re playing again?”

“They’re saying it’s looking like November,” he tells you, “Which sucks, but at least I don’t need surgery like Jack.”

“Do you miss it?” You ask, conscious of the way your steps are slowly turning toward his and trying to straighten yourself up. “Being back in New Jersey with your team, with Jack?”

“Jack doesn’t give anybody a chance to miss him, you should know that by now.” He grumbles, "In my texts 24/7 like it’s his second job.”

“Ellie’s too,” you tell him in a breathy chuckle, crossing your arms over your torso just to keep your hands busy with something as he shoves his back in the pockets of his jeans. “I don’t know where he finds the time,”

“He doesn’t need time, he’s annoying to his very core.” Luke scoffs, “I do miss the guys though, but there’s a couple group chats. And I’d probably miss the guys here if I was back there.”

“So either way you’re missing somebody?”

He gives an affirmative hum, kicking a rock down the side of the curb, figuring you don’t quite realise just how true that question rings to him. The sorority house is at the end of the path, now - closer than either of you really anticipated, and you almost start to panic, like the walls are closing in on you, like you’re running out of time.

“Listen-,”

“Look-,”

You both stop in the middle of the sidewalk, looking at each other wide eyed until you press your lips together, and gesture for him to carry on.

“I miss you,” he says, plain and simple, like it’s all he can muster up - and if you’re honest, it’s all you want to hear, an acknowledgement that without you in his life, there’s this gaping hole that no one else can fill. “I know that if I want to fix things between us, that I should give you this huge speech about how much I fucked things up, and that I should have trusted you, and listened to you when you tried to talk to me, and I do think all those things. I know those things, but I’ve been trying to figure out how to say them without it sounding like some bullshit excuse, and I figure I just need to be honest with you.

“I feel like the whole time we were together, I was waiting for the other shoe to drop, you know, like I could never just be in the moment with you because I felt like it was gonna end. And I think maybe you were doing the same.”

It’s crazy, you think, how well he knows you.

“And neither of us were ever gonna be ready to be anything more, because we weren’t even acknowledging that this thing between us probably wasn’t healthy.”

You’re quite thankful for the sting in the back of your throat, because you don’t know what you’d say to that, if you could speak.

It hurts to hear it, but he’s right. 

“I just wanted to believe it was a good thing for as long as you’d let me, and when you said you’d have dated Cole, and that you’d have thrown it all away, and I just left without a fight, I-,” he blinks, like he’s trying to rid himself of the tears welling in the corners of his eyes, like he doesn’t want to give in and let them shed. “I don’t know, I thought it was best to avoid you all together than watch you put that final nail in the coffin, or whatever.”

“You know I never went out with Cole, right?”

“I know. He told me before he left for training camp. The day you left. Almost considered running after you to apologise for being such a dick. Even thought about flagging you down in departures at Wayne County.”

You let that thought sit for a moment - Luke chasing you down like something out of one of the romantic comedies you would watch together - like the angsty movies you watched after you went home, laying on your bed and wishing the two of you could have had a happy ending. 

“Probably for the best you didn’t chase me through the airport,” you tell him with a wistful smile, “declarations of love freak me out,”

“I thought they might.” He chuckles, breathily, his heart not entirely in it.

“I also took the greyhound.”

“You know serial killers get those things, right.”

“You watch too many movies.”

His eyes flicker to yours, then, knowing and amused - like a new inside joke has cemented itself into your dynamic. 

“I don’t want to be nothing with you.”

It’s a weird statement, almost nonsensical, but you get it.

It’s what you’ve been trying for ever since you left Michigan, after all, and especially after you returned.

You let the thought settle for a moment, your lips twisting and your eyes tearing up as you watch him wait for a response.

“You really hurt me, Luke.” Your voice trembles as you say it, and you think you’re only part spurred on by liquid courage, the rest of it probably the incessant need to open up to somebody.

“I know,” he practically whispers back, choked up as much as you are. 

“I don’t think I can do that again.”

He nods, pressing his tongue to the side of his cheek like he’s trying not to press you on it, stepping back ever so slightly and huffing out a deep breath.

You almost think he might retreat, entirely - accepting your reluctance this final time and letting you go, just like you’d asked, earlier.

“What about if it’s not,” he shakes his head, sighing as he tries to think of the best way to say it, “What if it’s not romantic, between us?”

“You really think we could be friends?”

“You don’t?” He asks, wincing a little like the thought of anything else is painful.

“We’re hardly gonna see each other,” you tell him, “Is there really any point in keeping it up?”

“I’d like to try.”

You don’t know what concept hurts you the most, the thought of trying and failing, or not trying at all. Either way, you lose him.

You wish, for a moment, you were in any way good at math - that you could work out the statistic for the other option, the one where it actually works.

The option where neither of you get hurt, and you get to keep him.

You imagine that it’s slim.

“I don’t know, Luke,” you sigh, unable to shake the heaviness of your doubt, “It feels like we’re just stretching out the inevitable, here.”

“I don’t think so,” he fights back, taking that step forward that he just took back, “Just friends, it doesn’t have to be anything more than that. Hell, if you want to build up to friends, I’ll take that, too. Just not nothing. I miss you too much to be nothing.”

You miss him, too. You missed him the past 3 weeks while he’s been in town, and the two of you have somehow managed to avoid seeing each other for the most part. You missed him for the month you were back at your mom’s house. You missed him those ten days over in the lake house, when he was still technically right in front of you the whole time.

“Can I think about it?”

“Yeah!” He nods, eagerly, the slight etching of a smile spreading across his lips. “Yes, you can think about it.”

You nod back, then, hesitant and before you can do something stupid, like wrap your arms around him as a goodbye, you step away.

You bid him goodnight, offering a thank you for walking you home, and you retreat into the safety of the house, watching through the window by the front door until he disappears back down the street. 

The start of your semester passes in a chaotic blur, and you very quickly, and very frantically, find yourself panicking a little about the what’s-next of it all.

With the last few months of your headspace occupied entirely by a certain brunette, you realise quickly that you really need to knuckle down and figure out what you’re going to do with yourself once school is over.

And that’s what brings you to New York City in the middle of October - one of your very few prospects for the aftermath of your college career discussed over iced teas in Midtown, Manhattan, before you’re crossing state lines through the Holland Tunnel and scrambling to get ready in the hotel room you and Ellie had booked.

You don’t know how you managed to hide all of your efforts behind a veil of secrecy, but Ellie had been all too distracted by you agreeing to accompany her to Jack’s team halloween party in Jersey City, and so she had little brain power left to question where you disappeared off to, or why you’d possibly have any sort of appointment anywhere near here as soon as you told her she could pick up a costume for you.

You should have known it would be something ridiculous, evidenced by the poofy yellow dress and cartoonish crown she had left on your bed for you to change into. 

When you emerge from the bathroom, fully dressed, she’s stood in her Princess Peach costume - the colour palette a lot more complementary to her than the yellow is to you, but you can hardly fight her on it now - especially knowing Jack is out there somewhere dressed as Mario.

You don’t know how it slips your mind that he and Luke play for the same team, or that they’re brothers, or that he could possibly at the same party, dressed as Luigi. Not until you and Ellie are walking into the party a little after it starts, and you meet his eye for the first time in a couple of weeks, your mouth falling agape as you realise just what Ellie has done.

You don’t even have a second to call her out before she’s prancing off to some far side of the room with Jack, all over him after their own extended time apart, and you literally have no option but to sidle up to Luke, tail between your legs, cringing at the entire situation as you stand beside him in a room full of his peers after you had only just shut him down not long ago.

Thankfully, it’s Luke - and he would rather choke than make you feel uncomfortable about it.

He offers an easy smile, amused, even, as he greets you from the tall table he’s occupying, handing you the beer he just opened for himself and reaching for another from the table behind him. 

“I don’t even know why I agreed to come with them, I knew they’d just split and make out in the corner,” you roll your eyes, taking a swig from the bottle and grimacing a little at the taste. “I don’t even know anybody.”

“You know me,” he shrugs, “I don’t mind keeping you company.”

“Yeah right,” you scoff, “You literally just came back, the last thing you need is to be lumped in a corner with me all night when you’ve hardly seen your teammates for months. I’m just gonna duck out in a little bit, no one will care.”

“I’ll care,” he chuckles lightheartedly, the ease in which the statement slips out and the certainty in which you feel it sends a slight shiver down your spine. “I’ve been back in training for a week, trust me, I’ve already had enough.”

You sigh, trying to ignore the convincing look he’s giving you - head titled, a lopsided smile and eyes filled with hope.

It was only just under two weeks ago that you told him you didn’t want to be friends, so you can’t really understand why he’s so intent on you sticking around. He should be personally ordering you an Uber back to your hotel and pushing you out of the door, but he’s giving you this pleading pout now that’s making you think his night would fall to pieces if you left so soon.

The thing is, you’re not that great around people you don’t know, not lately, anyway - especially not when those people are all big, bulky high performance athletes (and Jack) and their drop dead gorgeous partners. You feel like an intruder, like you don’t belong, and you can’t imagine anything happening to change your mind.

“I still feel like such an outsider at these things,” Luke huffs, elbows resting on the tall table in front of you, his body leaning onto it in the absence of any stools nearby until he’s more around your height. “This is the first time Jack’s brought anybody with him so I can’t exactly stick to his side like normal.”

You frown.

Is he serious?

Luke has never been the type to stick to his brother’s side - not from what you’ve seen, anyway, and you’d pretty much spent your entire summer observing the guy - you’re way past the point of trying to deny that, now.

“Isn’t that Seamus over there?” You point to the opposite side of the room, where you’re pretty sure you recognise another of yours and Luke’s previous classmates. “Aren’t you two friends?”

“We got into a pretty heated discussion during Thursday Night Football the other night, we’re on a break.”

You almost forgot how quick Luke can be, the slight quiver in the corner of his mouth giving away his attempts at deception, but you’re hardly in any position to call him out on it.

He’s trying to do you a favour, after all.

“In fact, I need you to stay for my protection. He might be out for my neck, you can’t let me die in a Luigi costume, that would be cruel.”

You snort as you take him in in his entirety, from the ridiculous hat, to the stretched out one-piece outfit topped off with a pair of white sneakers.

“Speaking of, aren’t you supposed to have a moustache?”

“It’s in my pocket, didn’t want to make Jack feel bad, ‘cause he can’t grow one and all,” he mutters, reaching into the front of the outfit to retrieve the stick-on prop, the back still taped up and in-tact. 

“Right,” you scoff, taking it from his hand and peeling the tape, “Jack can’t grow facial hair.”

You reach forward and press it to his upper lip, holding it in place until it sticks, careful not to actually touch his mouth in the process.

“I can grow it,” he rolls his eyes, “I just don’t suit it.”

“I don’t know,” you shrug as you pull back, admiring the results and trying not to laugh, “I’d say you suit it just fine.”

You reach into the pocket of your own dress to retrieve your phone, and snap a picture just to show him, pressing your lips together as you see his eyes widen in horror.

“Delete that,” he huffs, and you just about manage to stop him before he rips the thing off.

“No,” you whine, “Keep it on, it’s funny!”

“I don’t want to look funny, I want to look cool and hot.” He huffs, frowning when he seemingly realises how ridiculous that sounds.

“Halloween costumes aren’t supposed to be hot.”

“Easy for you to say, Princess,” he gestures down to your dress, and you once again have a visceral reaction to how natural it is for him to say things like that. You feel your ears going warm, and you break eye contact just so that he doesn’t see straight through you.

“I meant to say, sorry about this,” you gesture down, too, all of a sudden feeling every fibre of the costume that’s covering your skin, “I don’t know why I didn’t connect the dots sooner when Ellie said she and Jack were doing Mario and Peach. She just said she’d get me a costume, I didn’t think that we’d be-,”

“A couple?” 

“Yeah.”

“It’s no big deal,” Luke shrugs, sipping at his drink with a nonchalant frown. “S’just a costume. Besides, what else could you have been? I don’t think they sell sexy Goomba outfits.”

“Please,” you scoff, swatting lightly at the blue overalls stretched across his chest. “Don’t be ridiculous, if anything, I’d be sexy Toad.”

“Hmm,” he considers, with a long glance down your figure. “That might have actually worked.”

You feel the heat creep back up your neck before you can regulate yourself, not concealed at all by the sweetheart neckline of your dress, or the way Luke’s eye linger on any exposed bit of skin.

You press your lips together and divert your attention to Jack and Ellie in the corner, feeling every extended inch of Luke’s presence beside you, your heart thumping at the mere proximity of him, and you start to chew on your bottom lip. 

“Can’t believe we tried so hard to get them together,” you mumble, watching as they start to kiss, “They’re disgusting.”

“Absolutely revolting,” he agrees, “We were out of our minds all summer.”

You know he’s referring to the scheme you two kept up, you’re the one who even brought the topic into conversation, but you can’t help the instinctive way your chest starts to ache again at the mere mention of summer.

The two of you had talked about this, back in Ann Arbor, before he had come back to Jersey. You’re supposed to be over it, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. You swallow thickly before reaching for your drink and chugging down the contents, avoiding his gaze as he watches you.

The thought of leaving crosses your mind again, but there’s a larger part of you that has missed this - missed him, maybe - a little too much, and those weeks back in Michigan last month had only served to weaken your resolve.

Keeping your distance had been a giant failure from the second you started to attempt it, and Luke is persistent - that much has always been obvious - so denying him any sort of contact is just pointless, now.

You had thought, back when he had dropped you off at the house the other week, that turning down his offer of friendship had been the right thing to do. You’d told him you would think about it, but it was always going to end up in rejection.

He’s in Jersey, you’re in Michigan. He has a really hectic schedule and career, and you’re supposed to be putting your head down and studying for your final year.

He broke your heart, and you broke his right back.

But you realise that you were naive to think that your paths would hardly cross.

Your best friend is dating his brother. You have so many mutual friends that you can hardly avoid him when he’s back in town. And beyond all that, you miss the versions of the two of you that just got on - before it all got messy in the summer. 

The banter, the inside jokes, the deep understanding of how each other worked.

And you had regretted it since - turning his offer down. 

Bringing it back up again is daunting, though. Opening yourself up to him, to say that you’d been thinking about him this whole time, and feel a deep, ever growing pit in your stomach now at the thought of being nothing, just like he had said he felt.

“Listen,” you start, with all intentions of figuring it out as you go along, only now feeling a serious urge to fix things, somehow, before you go back home, tomorrow, “I-,”

“Hold on, I gotta introduce you to someone. Hey, Pesce,” he calls out to his ever so-slightly taller teammate as he passes nearby, waving him to stop by the table the two of you are at before he walks away. He introduces you both by name, and you don’t miss the silent interaction between the two of them as he does, wide eyes and wiggling brows, a telepathic taunt from Brett and a wordless warning from Luke. “She’s my friend from back in Michigan, and he’s been my rehab buddy.”

You allow yourself to be distracted by that - not Ellie’s friend. His. Not a plus one of a plus one, or an outsider hovering around the edges of a private party. Someone he wants his teammates to know.

You like it more than you ever thought you would.

You feel your lips turning up into a natural smile, and a weight lifting off your shoulders - 7 words erasing the need for an entire conversation, already.

You probably could have told him to go fuck himself and that you hated his guts back on the street outside your sorority, and he’d still be out here calling you his friend.

Persistent.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you tell Brett, reaching out to shake his hand, matching his firm grip and meeting his steely gaze. 

“You too,” he smiles back, “I’ve heard-,”

“Lukey! Finally got a girl to notice you, huh?”

Another of Luke’s teammates approaches the table, and the absolute comedy of being introduced to a bunch of people in ridiculous costumes isn’t lost on you as he comes closer, a gigantic, teasing smirk almost overshadowed by a glaring red headpiece he wears.

“Nice to see ya, Curtis,” you watch as Luke embraces his other teammate, a wry, crooked grin on his face as he rolls his eyes fondly, and you try to ignore the weight of Brett’s discerning gaze on you. When he introduces you this time, Curtis shows no sign of recognition at your name, offering you a kind smile and extending his hand for you to shake. 

“Not talking your head off, is he? We’ve tried to train it out of him, but he’s a stubborn thing,” he chuckles, ruffling Luke’s hair like he’s petting an excitable puppy. 

“I’m used to it by now,” you shrug back, smiling when Luke scoffs, returning to your side.

“Nice costume,” Curtis looks Luke up and down, and it’s like you can see him trying to formulate a joke in his head, your lips twisting as you notice Luke anticipating the same, watching with a raised brow and a bored roll of his eyes. “That might be the closest we ever come to seeing you with facial hair.”

“Big talk coming from a dude dressed as shrimp.”

“I’m obviously a lobster, Luke.” 

“Obviously,” Luke mimics back like a child, his face sour and his lips pouted as his older teammate just laughs in his face. 

“C’mon, man,” Brett claps a hand on Curtis’ back, “Enough bruising the kid’s ego, you owe me a drink, remember?”

He knocks his free fist against Luke’s as he passes, offering you a wink and a nice to meet you before he’s guiding Curtis over to the bar and leaving the two of you alone, once more. 

“Sorry about them,” Luke mutters, “I could save them both from a burning building and they’d still treat me like their annoying baby brother.”

“It’s cute,” you shrug, sipping at your drink and catching his eye as they narrow toward you, clearly taking further offence at your choice of adjective. “They do it ‘cause they love you, Luke, it’s sweet.”

You try not to react to what you’ve just said - try not to think of that sentiment in the context of your own interactions with Luke, lightheartedly poking fun at him just to get a reaction because he can be so gut-wrenchingly adorable. 

It’s not the same.

But you can tell he’s thinking it too, looking at you with eyes that see straight through you, and a tilt to his head that’s almost mocking. 

“I uhm,” he sighs, stepping back a little closer to you and leaning down on the table so that he has to look up to meet your eye, “I told Pesch about you. About us.”

You blink back at him, waiting for him to say more - not really knowing how to respond, because you kind of had a feeling anyway. Brett has the worst poker face you’ve ever seen in your life. 

“It’s just been me and him training together, and we were getting to know each other, and you know how it is, he asked me about how I spent my summer, and about girls, and there’s just you for both, so it sorta just came out. Plus, I kinda felt like I had to talk about it with someone or I was gonna go crazy.” 

You look down, giving a slight nod of understanding - because you do get it. 

Also, the confirmation of something you’ve been wondering is kind of a relief. He hadn’t started anything with anyone else after you left, or back in Michigan, when you were making everything so hard on him.

There’s just him for you, too.

And it’s really hard, having one person consume your thoughts in such a way when you have no outlet to properly talk it through with anyone.

You never felt like you could talk to Ellie about any of it, and having all these feelings fizzing up inside you for so long is starting to make you feel like a volcano on the brink of eruption. 

Luke had done the sensible thing, finding an unaffiliated third party and seeking advice from someone with no bias. No scathing comments from his brothers, judgement from any of the guys back in Michigan or pitiful looks from your best friend.

“I didn’t say anything bad,” he assures you, “Not that there is anything bad, I promise I don’t think poorly of you or anything, and I wouldn’t go around telling random people if I did, especially not my teammates, I don’t want you to think-,”

“Luke, it’s fine,” you place a hand on his forearm, his eyes snapping up to meet yours at the slightest touch, wide and alarmed, like he feels like he’s digging himself into a hole. “I get it. Sometimes I feel like I’m gonna go crazy, too.”

“You do?” He frowns, like that was the last thing he expected you to say. 

You had told him you were hurt, so it can’t come as that much of a surprise that you feel some type of way about everything that went down between the two of you.

You’re not that heartless.

“What did you say to him?” You ask, hoping to engage with his incessant need to talk, rather than any attempt to eke information out of you. “About us?”

“Just that I didn’t like how we left things,” he tells you as you lean beside him, “It’s hard, not knowing where we stand, or what it’s gonna be like when I see you again. I still get the urge all the time to text you, even about stupid things. Someone was telling me about this Matthew McConaughey movie the other day, and I thought of you. Wanted to ask if you’d seen it.”

“It’s probably safe to assume I’ve seen all the Matthew McConaughey films. Even the bad ones.”

“It wasn’t on your Letterboxd.”

You swat at his bicep, your lips turning slowly into a grin as you can’t help but laugh at how little he cares about hiding his intentions.

You’d caught onto him monitoring your account somewhere between him coincidentally watching Notting Hill a couple days after you did while he was back in Michigan, the five star rating he gave to Call Me By Your Name, and him somehow knowing all the most obscure but gut-wrenching quotes from all the movies that really tore your heart out - writing them in his reviews like he was talking to you in some secret language that only the two of you spoke.

I think I’d miss you even if we never met, from The Wedding Date. 

I’ll do anything to make you happy. Tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it, from Past Lives.

There will be a piece of you in me always, from Her.

All movies you had listed after going home from the lake house - had laid in bed with teary eyes and trembling lips for the most part, and associated all those same quotes with him, too. And even without you putting them in your own reviews, he just knew every time which part of the movie made you think of your relationship.

You’d even tried baiting him out with Barbie, the other week, snorting to yourself despite your heartache when you imagined him seriously typing out, I only exist within the warmth of your gaze, without it, I'm just a little blonde guy who can't do flips, and hoping you would see it.

If anyone else had done it, it would probably have been corny. You’d have blocked them, the level of perception and lowkey invasion of privacy making your skin crawl - but Luke seeing you was different. Him being on the same wavelength - feeling the same feelings, thinking the same thoughts - was something you couldn’t ignore. 

“You’re not supposed to admit to cyber stalking me, you idiot.”

“What?” He chuckles, rubbing at his arm, “I missed watching movies with you.”

He shrugs at that like it’s nothing, but you can feel your cheeks go warm even if his don’t. You missed watching movies with him too - missed the long stretch of his legs far surpassing yours on top of the sheets, and the way he’d hold out candy for you to get some every few minutes. 

“Plus, you were stalking me, too. Why else would you be watching The Mighty Ducks on a Saturday night?” 

“I thought it might teach me about hockey.” You frown, although you’d been all too caught up with just how cute those movies were. You still know very little about the sport, but you can still appreciate the charm of a young Joshua Jackson.

Luke smiles, lopsided and gentle, but you know by now that’s his version of cocky - the kind of smile that shows you that something you’ve said has scratched at his ego, and he’s banking it somewhere in the back of his head.

“I can teach you,” he says, his voice an octave lower as he leans in - and you know he isn’t doing it on purpose, but it makes the hairs on the back of your arms raise, how he almost purrs over to you. “Can give you a crash course if you want?”

“Now?”

“Nah,” he sips at his drink, “Another time. Need an excuse to text you remember?”

“You can text me whenever,” you tell him, chewing at the corner of your bottom lip as he smirks at you, “Just so you know.”

You don’t tell him that you’ve been waiting for him to do it, anyway.

That for those first few days after he finally left Michigan, every buzz of your phone had your heart rate doubling. 

The first instant you had started to regret your decision, you had been hoping he would still try to change your mind.

You don’t tell him you started following a random team update account for news on how he was getting on with his injury, because he wasn’t letting you know, himself, or that you once spent an hour reporting people trolling him or talking smack in the comments just for something to do.

“What about FaceTime?”

“Don’t push your luck.”

To say you were planning on leaving as soon as you had arrived, you enjoyed yourself way more than you thought you would with Luke and his teammates - in fact, you’d probably go as far as to say it’s one of the best nights you’ve had since the summer.

Luke had introduced you to pretty much everybody, flitting around the room and making the rounds, and it had been nice to see how normal and nice everybody was - instantly making you felt like you belonged, to the point where you figured out that Luke had only said all that stuff about feeling like an outsider because he knew that was how you felt, knew it would tug at your heartstrings and make you stay.

You know from how close he is with the guys back in Michigan that Luke loves his teammates, but seeing it in action for the first time had been sweet. Seeing the other guys ruffling at his hair, play fighting, throwing their arms around him and indulging him in his corny jokes kind of made you feel less tense about the way you’re so instinctively affectionate with him. 

Even after what had happened toward the end of summer, and swearing off any sort of romantic connection since, you still want to touch him, still want to be near him, and while you don’t think his teammates exactly have those same thoughts, it makes you feel a little more normal, how much they all love him. Makes you feel less like you should be wedging all this distance between the two of you - because if they all love him like this, then why can’t you?

You don’t even realise that Ellie and Jack have long snuck off until you get a text to say not to come back to the hotel, and that Jack’s bed is freshly clean for you to sleep in. The thought of it is gross, but you figure that two athletes will have a comfy couch, so you’re not all that bothered in the end.

Plus, it gives you more time with Luke - to have a proper conversation, to figure things out. So, when it’s time to leave, and he ushers you out of the bar with a hand on the small of your back, you let him cross the boundaries of being nothing, and lean into his touch until you’re out in the cold, wrapping your arms around yourself as he shrugs off his jacket.

“Put this on,” he demands, throwing it to you and watching as you catch it with a clumsy grip, “We’re walking.”

“Walking?” You ask, stumbling to catch up with him as he starts to make his way down the street, his long strides making it incredibly difficult, especially in the stupid costume heels you’re wearing. You ease into his jacket as you move, shaking your arms until your fingers just about peak out of the ends, and relishing the warmth that encapsulates your body.

“Yeah, it’s 10 minutes. I know that sounds like a lifetime in campus terms, but I’m assuming you still know how to walk.”

You scoff as you pretty much jog to keep up, taking rushed, small steps until you just about make it to his side. “I don’t have a car, remember, I walk everywhere. I just assumed we’d be getting an Uber or something."

“S’good for you,” he shrugs, “Clears the mind. And it’s only a few blocks back to the apartment. I can show you all the best breakfast spots for you and Ellie to visit before you leave tomorrow.”

“But it’s dark out.”

“What, you’re scared of the dark, now?” He looks down at you from the corner of his eye, his height advantage meaning you can so clearly see the amused way in which his mouth curves up on the side closest to you. 

“I’m scared of being abducted in a back alley and brutally murdered so that my organs can be sold on the black market.”

“That happens more on the other side of the river,” he hooks a thumb in the general direction of what you assume is the Hudson, but it could be anywhere for all you know. This is your first time in New Jersey, and your brief expedition into Manhattan in the morning had done very little to clue you in on the lay of the land.

“Murder is an international issue, Luke, I don’t think they draw the line at what state they do it in, look it up.”

“You watch too much TV,” he chuckles, “Who’s gonna mess with you when I’m around? Look at me,” he gestures down to his ridiculous costume, “I’m the picture of intimidation. You don’t think I’d protect you from the black market organ thieves?”

“You’re dressed like an Italian plumber, you dork, and you’ve got arms like toothpicks, they’d probably kill you first just for fun.” You retort, grabbing at his arm to bring him back to your pace. You almost can’t believe that in the brief expanse of one evening, you could possibly have returned to this level of comfort, but you’re trying not to think too hard about it - especially with a mind partially loosened up by a couple of drinks. “Could you at least slow down? Your legs are like twice the length of mine.”

“Aw,” he pouts, “Do you want me to carry you?”

“Don’t joke, I’d pay good money for a piggy back right now.”

“Shame I’ve got such toothpick arms then, isn’t it?” he fakes an exaggerated smile, and you narrow your eyes until he drops it.

You huff as he carries on, thankful at the slightly slower pace he seems to have adopted, and the way his chin keeps jutting in your direction to check on how well you’re keeping up.

“What about a fireman’s carry?” You suggest, looking up at him with pleading eyes and pouted lips.

“The best you’ll get is me giving you my gloves to wear as socks and I’ll carry your shoes for you.”

“And if I step on glass, cut into a vein and bleed out?”

“I suppose then I’d carry you.”

This feels familiar.

Feels comfortable and right, and when you look back on those nights in September when you had seen him - at the football game, in the living room back at the sorority, and the party at the hockey house, this is what you’d felt like you had been missing.

It doesn’t have to be awkward, or charged, or tense between the two of you. 

Maybe it can be like this again.

Like it was in the beginning, before everything got messed up.

“I meant to ask earlier,” he nudges at you with his elbow, “Ellie said you had an appointment over in Midtown,”

“You’re such a stalker,” you snort, shaking your head with a wry smile as you glance over at him, “Literally the snoopiest guy I’ve ever met.”

“Snoopiest?” He scoffs, “It’s called curiosity. I can’t wonder what my friend did with their day, now? I’m snoopy?”

“There’s a masters programme at NYU,” your eyes dart down to the floor as you start to tell him, figuring that you’ll feel less nervous if it just feels like you’re speaking in general, instead of confiding in him. There’s also a part of you spurred on by his immediate adoption of you being his friend - still reeling from the ease in which he had been introducing you as such to everyone all night. Opening up to him is just as easy, and now that you’re embracing the dynamic, it’s like the pieces that form all the resistance within you are shifting out of place, creating a bunch of cracks for him to seep straight into. “One of my sorority sisters has a cousin who’s in her final year, she set up a meeting so that I could talk about my application.”

“You’re applying to NYU?” He asks, quickening his step until he is a little ahead of you, turning on his feet until he’s walking backwards, giving you no chance of ignoring his presence anymore. 

“I’m thinking about it,” you shrug, “It isn’t a done deal, so don’t tell anybody.”

“I can keep a secret,” he promises, and that same ache starts to form in your chest again, at just how well you know that to be true.

“Plus, it’s a long-shot, so even if I did apply, I probably wouldn’t get in, and I don’t want to get Ellie’s hopes up that I’ll be sticking around.”

You have a job lined up elsewhere already for when you graduate - an entry level role in a PR agency over in Chicago, close to home, close to your mom - but the more you’re considering it, the less sure you are. The job would be pretty much you getting taken advantage of for being a recent graduate, and furthering your education could help secure something bigger and better. But throwing away a sure thing seems stupid, and you don’t really want to do so if you don’t have something else secured.  

“Getting into the NHL is a long shot, and you’ve just spent the night in a room full of people who made it happen,” Luke tells you, ducking his head a little lower until you look him in the eye, “Don’t underestimate yourself, you’re really smart, you’ll get in if you do end up applying.”

The way he says it is so sure - so different to anybody else, who you feel like is just saying it to make you feel better. Luke believes it, you can see it in the way he looks at you, confident and certain of your abilities more than you’ve ever been in yourself.

“I don’t think you can call you getting into the NHL a long shot, unfortunately,” you tell him, your lips twisting in the corner as you bite back a smile when he starts to frown. 

“Not you too with the nepotism stuff,” he scoffs, only partially feigning offence.

You swat at his chest, “Hey, I’d never,” you gasp, “I meant ‘cause you’re so talented.”

“I bet you did,” he snorts, falling back into step beside you, a little closer this time, your elbows knocking as you continue to walk. “Haven’t even played yet this season, what would you know about my talent?”

You think it’s the way he’s leaning in a little that seems to hypnotise you, rendering you a speechless, practically-spluttering mess as you struggle to form words or a single, coherent thought. You wonder if this is how he felt, all those times when you turned on the charm and innuendo and purposely tried to push his buttons. Defenceless and weak. 

“I’ll tell you what I do have a talent for,” he straightens up a little, increasing the space between you so that you feel like you can at least breathe again. “Important old man voice. If you ever need to put someone down as a phoney reference.”

“I’ll bare that in mind when the NYU admissions board loosens their policy on Kevin McAllister level schemes, thanks,” you chuckle, your smile lingering when he returns it, cheeks folding into a lopsided grin. 

“Hey, give a guy some credit, there’s a little Ferris Bueller in there too.”

“Yeah, ‘cause schools love Ferris Bueller types.” You scoff, “You’re such an idiot.”

You glance over to see him pretty much beaming in response, and, if you were a betting person, you’d put all your money on knowing his exact train of thought.

You have a tell, after all, you remember, for when you’re enjoying yourself more than you think you should be.

Walking back to his apartment gives the two of you a little time to properly catch up - away from tense conversations and teary admissions - he tells you about his training, you tell him about school, and it feels like seconds pass before he’s ushering you into his building with that same guided hand on your lower back, the heat of his touch felt even through his jacket, and into the elevator. 

You stand by his side as it slowly ascends, hands buried in the warmth of his jacket pockets and ever so often meeting his eye in the reflection of mirrored doors before you glance away with a flush to your cheeks.

Every time you look back, he’s smiling a little, soft and small, but sure of himself in a way that makes all those hardened parts of you melt a little inside. 

There’s something different about him that you can’t quite put your finger on - something in the way he carries himself, around his teammates, around you, even just in general - like he stands taller, somehow. Like here in Jersey, he makes a point to hold himself up a little more, and it makes you cherish the version of him you had, those months ago - vulnerable and raw.

You hadn’t appreciated at the time, just how much of himself he gave to you - all the little quirks and insights you got to see - but you appreciate them, now. 

“I had fun tonight,” you tell him, smiling instinctively when he meets your eye, “Thanks for not letting me leave.”

“Thanks for not leaving,” he chuckles, the doors opening in front of you and that hand going straight to your back again until he’s guiding you towards his apartment. “It’s been nice just talking to you again, I missed it.”

“Me too,” you admit, because there’s really no use in keeping it bottled up when he’s so freely opening himself up to you. He so easily tells you that he misses you, and wants to speak to you, and it enjoys your company, so you not doing the same only feels like you’re doing yourself a disservice - especially when admitting as much back to him earns you one of those cute, crooked smiles he’s so good at giving. 

He holds open the door for you and you have to brush past him to go in, but your hesitance to touch has long dissipated throughout the night, so you don’t entirely mind when he follows you straight in, and you can feel the heat of his presence.

“Are you wanting to go straight to bed?” He asks, hand on your waist as he passes you and heads for the kitchen, flicking on the lights under the cabinets and getting two glasses down from one of the cupboards.

“I probably should,” you huff, despite wanting to stretch this out with Luke - your mind going back to I miss watching movies with you, and considering flopping down onto the couch and putting something on, for old time’s sake. “Is your couch comfy? I don’t really want to sleep in Jack’s bed.”

“You can sleep in mine,” he offers, before he even has a second to consider it.

“Oh, I don’t know-,”

“I’ll go in Jack’s, it’s fine,” he nods down the hall, gesturing you to follow as he carries two glasses of water, knocking the handle to the room on the left until the door opens and letting you go in first. 

The sheets are the same as on his bed back at the lake house, and it’s the first thing that takes you aback, a familiar grey-blue comforter that you already feel the softness of from across the room, and a cream throw haphazardly thrown across the top. 

You can tell the sheets aren’t entirely fresh - slightly crumpled, and not-very-neatly made, pillows askew - but if you’re sleeping in Luke’s bed, weirdly enough, you would probably prefer it that way.

“Sorry, I should have tidied up a little,” he chuckles nervously as he passes you to place a glass down on the nightstand. 

“It’s fine,” you shrug, stepping forward just to fall down onto his bed - the mattress plush enough that you already feel yourself sinking into it, tension easing away from your muscles. 

You’re kind of glad you kept an eye on him, watching his gaze shift to the way your dress now rides up on your thighs, and the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows thickly before looking away.

“I’ll just get something to change into then I’ll get outta your hair,” he mumbles, trying to busy himself with something else as a distraction. Just before he can pass you to his closet, you reach out to grab at his wrist, and it’s almost like muscle memory is forcing you to do so - something within you not allowing him to get away.

He’s in front of you now, close enough that you kind of have to crane your neck the whole way to look up at him, and you watch as his eyes drag slowly from the point of contact to meet yours, every movement he makes unhurried and purposeful. 

“I just wanted to say thank you again, for tonight,” you start, speaking without any real plan as to what you want to say, but wanting to keep him just a little longer, “For keeping me company, and letting me stay in here-,”

“It’s no big deal-,”

“And for not letting me push you away.”

It might be the first time you’ve ever owned up to it - being the master of your own downfall, or the downfall of your relationship with Luke, and anything you still could have been after the fact - and it isn’t easy, admitting that you’re the problem.

But you feel like you owe it to him, as a reward for all this resilience in the face of your constant rejection. He’s been nothing but patient, and you’ve been nothing but hard work, and you’re willing to admit, now, that you’re done with it.

He smiles, eyes knowing, the relieved, breathy sigh he gives dissolving all the guilt that’s building in the depths of your gut, and sinks down beside you on the bed, his thigh brushing yours as he settles in. 

Hours ago, being this close would have terrified you. You’d have shut down, turned away, shuffled across the sheets until there was a healthy distance between the two of you, but you don’t move. You just turn, a little, to be able to meet his eye.

“Are you saying you’re done with that?” He asks, a little hesitant, assuming, probably, that you won’t be entirely open with him.

But you nod, chewing at the corner of your bottom lip as he presses his own together, eyes darting a little lower.

“So we’re friends?” He asks, his voice low, the depth of it causing a weird vibration to wrack down your body - a buzz that won’t go away, now that he’s this close, and he’s looking at you the way he is. 

“If that’s what you still want to be.”

The thought of him changing his mind makes you a little dizzy, an ache growing in your chest again at the thought of being nothing - but you’d deserve it, you think, after all the times you turned him down. 

It would hurt, but, as always, it would be your own doing. 

“And we won’t ever be more?”

The pleading tone in which he asks makes the back of your throat go dry, and all you can do to respond, now, is shake your head. Slowly, and hesitantly, but it shakes all the same, tears welling in the corners of your eyes as you take in his resigned acceptance.

And then, something shifts.

A subtle shake of his head, as if he’s fighting an inner monologue, and then an assured switch in his demeanour - a tilt of his head as he surveys your reluctance, and the swipe of his tongue to wet his lips, like he’s preparing to fight back.

“If I kissed you right now,” he asks, voice still low, eyes lower, pinned to the curve of your lips as they part as if by instinct, “Would you tell me to stop?”

“Luke,” you warn, no more than a whisper as you watch his lips too, “We can’t.”

“That’s not what I asked,” his eyes trail slowly up until your gazes meet, and his head tilts again in question, blinking heavily before he asks, “Would you push me away?”

Your lips form around a response that you can’t even think to give back, opening around an answer you’re not ready to give at all, and all your body wants to do is deny. You fight the urge to shake your head, but you think that it’s a losing battle, especially considering how much your brain feels like it’s being rattled around anyway.

You don’t know what you do to make him move forward, but you figure by now you don’t actually have to do anything. He can probably read your mind at this point, spurred on no doubt by the way your eyelids flutter closed when he’s close enough, and the tip of his nose presses to yours, slow, heavy breaths falling into the decreasing space between the two of you. 

You should stop him. You know that.

It isn’t good for either of you, letting this carry on, leaving the edges of your relationship so frayed that even the smallest tug could pull the whole thing apart, thread by thread. 

You should tell him to stop, should push him away, should hold a lighter to the loose ends and singe them together to prevent further damage. You’ve only just settled on friends, and now you’re not sure, again.

But the second he gets this close, you’re not in charge, anymore.

It’s like some force of nature takes over, brings the two of you together like tectonic plates meeting, and causing unfathomable destruction to both of your hearts in the aftermath.  

His kiss is so instantly tender that it hurts already, tears prickling at the seams of your scrunched-closed eyes, and all you can do is push through the pain. You kiss him back, lips closing around his again and again as your faces smush together, and you start to feel the passion consume him - something takes over almost like an urgency, where you’re clawing at his the front of his costume and he’s clutching at your waist, doing anything physically possible to close whatever gap still sits between you.

The pressure of his lips is almost bruising, now, but you like it that way - soft exhales puffing out from his nose so that he doesn’t have to part to catch his breath, fingers pressing so hard into your flesh that you hope they leave a mark.

He tastes just how you remember, and it takes you back all those months to summer - to stolen kisses over centre consoles and making out in his bed when everyone else was out. There’s a part of you that feels giddy with it, just like you had then, partaking in something so precious that was just for the two of you, and it starts to distract you from what this actually is.

A mistake. 

You pull away instead of pushing, bringing your chin back until your lips part with much effort, a hmmph and a furrow of your brow, and you can’t bring yourself to open your scrunched eyes, not yet, but you know when he’s going to chase.

“Luke,” you whisper in warning before your eyes flutter open and you peer up at him through your lashes. He looks so soft, you think, despite all the ways he tries not to. Despite the sharp line of his jaw, and the hardened look in his eyes. You feel your walls crumbling at just the sight of him - defenceless to his charms, once again, because how much could Luke possibly hurt you? “Friends don’t do that.”

“Maybe our friendship starts tomorrow,” he hums back, “Maybe we get this out of our systems one more time.”

And it’s sitting on the precipice of that feeling you’ve been chasing since July that has you considering it - ever so close to finally getting closure on whatever the two of you were, or could have been.

Getting it out of your system sounds healthy. Sounds like a clean slate, a fresh start, and you have no doubt that if you’re going to be friends with Luke Hughes, that it’s exactly what you need in order to do so. 

Because, if you’re honest, it’s that exact thing that’s been holding you back this entire time - closure. With such an abrupt end to what the two of you had, how could you ever possibly close that chapter mid-sentence? How could you ever move on?

“One more time,” you try to sound stern, try to convince yourself of your own words, “Then we have to let this go.”

“You got it.”

“No more Luke, I mean it.” You have to push down this feeling of impending doom, or you’ll never get anywhere, but you need to warn him one last time, just to be safe. “Strictly friends after tonight.”

“I already agreed, can you please just let me kiss you again?”

“Okay, fine, just,” you huff, hands splayed across his broad chest and pushing until your bodies part, his butt shuffling back on the bed. “Take the costume off, first, I’m not feeding into whatever dorky cosplay fetish you probably have.”

You’re only part joking, but it’s the only way you know how to relieve the tension a little, and your nerves start to dissipate at his reaction.

He chuckles, with the kind of cocky smile that makes your heart jump, reaching behind himself to unzip the back of his costume with an affectionate shake of his head. He stands, then, to shuck it off, the whole thing dropping off of him until he kicks it across the floor, towards his laundry hamper, then stands in just his briefs, which are slung low on his waist. “You can keep yours on, I don’t mind,” he tells you when you’re distracted by the taut, defined lines on his stomach, eyes trailing slowly up to meet his, gleaming back at you.

“You’d love that wouldn’t you,” you scoff, watching as he draws closer, shuffling back a little on the bed to accommodate him, “You absolute freak.” 

“You can’t sit there and pretend you don’t want me to call you princess again.” He smirks, bending down until his hands are on either side of your hips, and you’re leaning back with your fingers pressed into his sheets and your head craned back to meet his eye, “Saw you getting all flustered about it, earlier.”

“Shut up,” you huff, curling a hand around the back of his neck and pulling him down into you - the two of you colliding in a clumsy, messy kiss. His body crawls over yours, encapsulating you entirely in an intoxicating warmth, and you find yourself melting into his every touch - large hands running down your sides, settling on your waist, and the other easing its way under the skirt of your costume. 

You put both hands to use too, one remaining behind his neck, scratching into the grown out curls that sit there and tugging when he starts to tickle up your thigh, the other on the warm skin of his chest - the rampant thud of his heart beating against your palm.

One more time, just to get him out of your system.

And then you can be friends.

What could possibly go wrong?

another a/n: I'll try to finish the next part asap!! thank you for reading, I know this was long lmao!! would love to hear your thoughts!!!!

> PART TWO <

[7-deadly-cats]

killing me softly | extra

rafe buying reader a gift at the gas station

K M S M A S T E R L I S T | <- C H . 1 7 | C H . 1 8 ->

✿ C O N T E N T W A R N I N G ✿ swearing, suggestive themes and implications, awkward!rafe, cougar behavior from an older woman (age appropriate but still gross), mention of alcohol consumption (flashback), one-sided flirting, kinda ptsd!rafe lol, rafe going insane (again)

✿ W O R D C O U N T ✿ 2.8k+

✿ A / N ✿ thx @wefelldowntherabbithole13 for requesting this. hope you guys enjoy this little extra and lmk what you think <3

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

// READ CHAPTER 17 BEFOREHAND IF YOU DON'T WANNA GET SPOILED

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W E E K O N E // S A T U R D A Y 2 : 5 5 P M

Rafe was so close to ripping off the fucking gas cap of his fucking Benz because why the fuck wouldn't it close, HUH?!

Or better yet: why the fuck did this stupid shit piss him off so goddamn bad in the first place?

OH RIGHT. Probably something to do with how he’d just dropped you off in the fucking Cut, at that rat-infested shithole where his stupid sister and her loser rat friends always hung out.

FUCKING GREAT.

No. No, you hadn't exactly told him who’d be waiting for you there besides your loud-ass friend and some dude she apparently needed help with. Seriously, Rafe still couldn’t wrap his head around how you of all people were supposed to help her. You could barely grasp the concept of flirting—how the hell were you supposed to be of any help besides driving everyone in a five-mile radius absolutely insane with your crazy head?

Rafe exhaled. Finally punched the damn gas cap shut with his fist.

Knuckles throbbing, he rubbed at them, though it hurt less than his damn head.

Like, Jesus fucking Christ, that stupid-ass conversation you two had just minutes ago? Rafe didn’t even know how the hell he’d managed not to crash the fuck out. He deserved a fucking gold medal or trophy for keeping his cool and actually calming your crazy ass down.

And the best part? Not even a whole fucking minute after he’d defused the ticking bomb that was your brain, you were already ready to ditch him.

Seriously, was Rafe just some fucking joke to you?

Sure, yeah, okay, your friend had indeed called, and apparently you’d promised to hang out with her anyway today. But that wasn’t exactly a solid reason to dip immediately. You could’ve stayed just a little longer and… yeah. Done what, exactly?

Under different circumstances, it would've been late evening, and Rafe would've gone to your place because no way in hell was he bringing a girl around his nosy-ass family. And of course, you'd have the house to yourself—Rafe had zero interest in dealing with a random girl's parents (except that yours actually were pretty chill). You'd have giggled at the door, walked in, one thing would've led to another, and he'd have you moaning into the sheets. Or well, not moaning, considering at this point he’d rather shut you up and feel you choke on his—

Fuck, he really didn’t need to get hard at a damn gas station.

And yeah, just like with his occasional (!!!) hookups (again, he wasn't a fuckboy, alright?), he’d either crash at your place, too lazy to drive back, or show up at Kelce’s or Top’s, do a line, and pass out on the couch.

That’s it.

But those hadn't been the circumstances. It had been the middle of the fucking day, and Rafe knew better than to expect some quick fun with you. Hell, he’d be out of his fucking mind if he even tried making a move. You’d probably lose it, that whole exhausting conversation would start all over again, and even more likely: You’d freak the fuck out, dip, and that’d be the end of whatever the hell this was between you two.

Oh right, now there actually was a label. Apparently you were aiming for a friendship, or rather you thought he wanted one.

Cute, really. You two had barely known each other for, what, a week? Not even? And you’d already pressured him into deciding where things were going after the project because apparently, your brain needed to "make space for new people if they decided to stay" otherwise your anxiety would eat you up.

Aight.

Like, dude. Chill the fuck out for once. Why couldn’t you just live in the fucking moment for a second? But no, you had to constantly leap a thousand steps ahead and dissect every possible outcome.

You were literally the least chill person Rafe had ever met, and somehow, he still couldn’t bring himself to dislike you. How? He didn’t fucking know. Probably better if he never figured it out, because unlike you, he didn’t need every single answer to every goddamn situation.

Jesus Christ.

But yeah, sure, why not. Rafe loved collecting annoying people as his friends for a living. One more wouldn’t kill him. Bonus points to you, though, because for some fucked up reason, he actually had fun with you. Sometimes more than with Kelce and Top. And well, he didn't have the option to flirt with those two. But with you? Shit, it was his new favorite activity.

Which brought him back to the original question: What the fuck was Rafe supposed to do with a female friend?

Like, with Topper and Kelce, he’d hit the country club, hang out at one of their places, smoke some hookah, hit some beach bar or the gym.

Wait. On second thought—dragging you into the gym, you wearing tight leggings, squatting in front of him, and—

Rafe rubbed the bridge of his nose. He seriously needed to think of some other shit.

Another reason he desperately needed a fucking line right now. This whole situation—he was actually going insane.

First things first: pay for the goddamn gas.

The Benz gave two clicking sounds as Rafe locked it and headed into the station.

Good thing he’d driven back to the north side of the island. No way in hell he was about to get robbed by some cracked-out junkie at a Cut gas station where they probably laundered money and sold kidneys on the side.

“Pump Three,” Rafe said as he stepped up to the counter, eyes on his wallet, fumbling to get that fucking credit card out of the sleeve. Seriously, his patience was really being tested today.

“Oh, honey, what happened to your face?”

Rafe looked up—and his heart dropped.

Fucking shit. Not her.

Agatha Woods. 44, widow, Pogue, and the fucking woman Rafe had almost hooked up with last year at a bonfire party.

She’d been working the bar (which—let's be real—grown woman hanging out at a teenager party? Fucked-up), and Rafe had been doing shots one after the other with Top. And then Topper—holy shit, that was the party the idiot almost hooked up with your friend—dipped, and Rafe got left behind. And for some goddamn fucked-up unexplainable reason, he'd stayed at the bar with cougar Agatha and let her keep pouring him drink after drink.

Fucking shit, he'd been so wasted and desperate anyway because he'd dropped Gracie a week before and then there had been fucking Agatha with her triple Ds, her purring at him and fuck, Jesus Christ, his whole body literally tensed at the memory. His horny, almost-blackout self had almost followed her to her truck if Kelce hadn’t intercepted him.

Actually no, Rafe's entire skin was covered in goosebumps right now.

Shitshitshitshit. Just ignore her. She won’t remember. She probably pulls this shit on every guy who'd just celebrated his 18th birthday.

He shook his head and shrugged like it was no big deal, avoiding her eyes. “Golf club accident.��

Now Rafe was forced to meet her eyes, only because he was trying so fucking hard not to look down at her way-too-exposed cleavage as she leaned forward on the counter.

“I’m off soon, want me to take a look at that?” she said, fluttering her lashes in that sweet—actually, no, raspy smoker’s voice of hers.

Rafe kind of wanted to go back to Barry’s and let the guy shoot his brains out, because what the actual fuck. Why was he getting hit on by a woman twice his age? For the second time.

He just shook his head, letting out a tight chuckle. “Nah, I’m good. So, uh ... Pump Three.”

“I heard you just fine the first time,” Agatha said with a smirk, leaning back. “Just thought maybe you’d wanna pick up where we left off last time.”

Please just let me fucking pay. Holy shit.

Rafe gave a strained smile. “How much?”

Agatha chuckled. “Oh, sweetie, this is a gas station, not a brothel.”

What the—fucking shit, what?

His neck and cheeks were suddenly burning, and for a second he genuinely considered walking out and setting the entire gas station on fire, himself included.

Jesus Christ. This day was just getting worse by the goddamn second.

“I’m well aware,” he replied but his fucking voice cracked, and FUCKING HELL.

The hunting knives on the counter suddenly looked way too inviting, even though they were sitting right next to a blindingly pink stand full of glittery, oversaturated plastic bags with little rainbow-colored horses printed on them.

Okay. Seriously. The fucking universe—or whatever sick fuck ran it—was messing with him, because guess what was printed in bold letters on that stand?

Friendship Bracelets: Pick Your Pony, Share The Sparkle.

What. The. Fuck.

This had to be some serious joke. Hadn't he just made fun of the idea of making you a friendship bracelet a few minutes ago, just to shut you up?

“Four bucks.”

Startled, Rafe snapped his eyes back to the cougar, blurting out, “Huh?”

She laughed. “Looking at that thing with that big eyes of yours. You got a friend you wanna share the magic with?”

“Girlfriend, actually.”

The words had left his mouth before his brain could even catch up.

Shit.

Even worse than calling you his girlfriend in front of the cougar trying to bag him: he seriously considered buying one of the dumb bracelets.

See? This was your fucking fault. Riling him up with your psycho brain, then bouncing to Sarah’s rathole where she was most likely also hanging out. And now, here he was, about to buy you some glittery-ass children’s bracelet just to… fuck, he didn’t even know. Just the idea of you owning something he got you, it made his blood rush in a way that genuinely concerned him.

Well. One upside to the sudden topic shift: Agatha was backing off, now that she thought he was taken. Just like he’d intended, of course.

Guess she has some standards, at least.

“All grown up now, got yourself a girl, huh?,” she said with a giggle. “You oughta invest in a real bracelet then. Ain’t no girlfriend gonna want some kids’ toy meant for little girlies.”

“Nah,” Rafe muttered with a frown, cheeks warm. “She’ll like it.”

You loved sending fucked-up, crazy-ass crackhead pics to express your emotions. You’d absolutely love some discolored, shitty plastic bracelet from some shitty-ass horse cartoon.

And the fact that Rafe even knew that fucking cartoon in the first place was reason enough to buy one of the hunting knives as well and end his misery right here. Wheezie used to watch that crap when she was younger. He remembered those smiley, ugly-ass horses now.

Nonetheless, Rafe stepped closer to the stand, scanning the different packages. Apparently, each bracelet was themed after one of those LSD-tripping ponies.

There—that one. The obnoxious blue one with rainbow hair. He hated that smug, loud, egotistical piece-of-shit horse. Friendship bracelet for the Rainbow Dash in your life.

Yeah, no thanks. He wasn’t putting that asshole on your wrist.

“You need help choosing?” Agatha asked with a chuckle. “Otherwise move that sweet little ass of yours. Got another customer waiting.”

Rafe furrowed his brows and moved to the side, trying his best to ignore the heat crawling up his chest. First thing he’d do once he got out of here was a fucking line in the car, because fuck this day.

Okay. So what shitty-ass horse should he even get you?

He remembered the purple one with the emo bangs and that dumb little dragon sidekick. Wheezie’s favorite. Twilight Sparkle the package read.

Jesus, how the fuck did they all have shitty names like that?

Then there was the pink one. Of fucking course, she was called fucking Pinkie Pie. Rafe remembered her being all over the place and screaming and bouncing and just... no. That bitch reminded him way too much of Kelce for some reason. Or your best friend. Which was basically the same thing. Hard pass.

The weird cowgirl-looking horse just looked straight-up ugly. No way he’d let you wear ugly shit like that. Plus, it gave off full-on Pogue energy, so yeah, fuck that too.

Which left him with two fuckers called Rarity and Fluttershy.

And for some reason, Fluttershy just... felt right. Rafe couldn’t explain it, but he knew that was the one. Soft colors, none of that oversaturated eyesore bullshit. And her smile on the packaging—kinda sweet, kinda shy (well duh, the bitch was called Fluttershy for a reason), and she just radiated your vibe. Quiet, soft, but like... deep (in thought about some unnecessary bullshit probably).

He even remembered her being eerily like you. Awkward, kind, and anxious.

Jesus Christ, why the fuck did he even remember that?

Rafe grabbed the package with a grimace. It read Friendship Bracelet for the Fluttershy in your life. He seriously questioned his fucking sanity as he dropped it on the counter.

“Oh, so you finally picked one,” Agatha said, scanning it in with a smirk and raising an eyebrow. “I’m just gonna assume your girlfriend’s of legal age.”

HUH WHA—FUCKING SHIT, EW.

The audacity of that woman to say that of all people.

Rafe smiled crookedly, holding up his card. “Listen, lady, I’m in a fucking hurry, alright?”

Agatha chuckled again, holding out the reader. “That’ll be 110.55 then.”

The moment the confirmation beep rang out, Rafe snatched the bracelet and bolted the hell out of that goddamn gas station slash cougar pit. Before he ever stepped foot in there again, he’d rather make out with a fucking Pogue or shoot himself in the face.

In the car, he dropped the plastic package along with his wallet and keys into the center console and slammed on the gas. He needed to get out of there before that cougar actually chased him down.

And then the overwhelming urge to just crash his car into the nearest wall or tree rose up because:

Did he seriously just buy a fucking horse bracelet for a girl who was driving him completely insane, which also had the most fucked-up brain he’d ever witnessed?

Oh, and the worst part? He knew damn well he wouldn’t get anything in return. No sex. No blowjob. Not even a basic makeout. Probably just some awkward little smile and a confused “Thanks". Worst case? Another fucking discussion about what this meant, what Rafe’s intentions were, whether he was just trying to get in your pants, blah blah blah.

And the most fucked-up, goddamn infuriating part? He didn’t even seem to mind.

Sure, if you'd show him your gratitude on your knees, he wouldn’t complain (shit, just the thought almost made him hard), but Rafe had pretty much (almost) accepted that nothing like that was ever gonna happen between you two.

And guess friends without benefits didn't do this kinda shit, right? Like, Top and Kelce basically fit into this category and he'd never in a million years...just fuck no, what. Then again, they didn't have tits and a cute ass like yours, so. And moreover, Rafe would never ever gift them a cringe-ass fucking friendship bracelet. And definitely not one week after getting to know them.

Shit. The bracelet wasn’t supposed to mean anything anyway. Rafe just felt like he needed to make his point clear one more time, once and for all because he had this gut feeling that words didn’t cut it with you. Two days from now, you’d be whining again because Rafe made some harmless flirty joke, and your fucked-up head would twist it into some manipulative scheme of him wanting to get in your pants.

So when he'd give you this dumbass bracelet, he’d make fucking sure you read what it said:

F-R-I-E-N-D-S-H-I-P Bracelet.

Unfortunately, the gas station didn’t offer a bracelet that read “For the girl I got stuck with in a school project, who I kinda wanna bend over but I'm also fine with not doing so, even though she’s batshit crazy and wants a label six days in for a FUCKING HANGOUT, and for reasons only God knows I’m still putting up with her shit and guess I'm her fucking friend now and buying her this crap just to shut her spiraling brain up AND to make it loud and clear I'm not toying with her crazy ass”.

Jesus Christ.

He was losing it. He was actually going insane.

And the only reason for it?

You.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

K M S M A S T E R L I S T | <- C H . 1 7 | C H . 1 8 ->

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

T A G L I S T F O R M (taglist for this series is CLOSED but you can sign up for my other stuff through this link)

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[jupiterpilgrim]

Beneath the Quirky Petals

Lee Chaeyoung x male reader

word count: 13K

You're at home, sinking into the leather couch while your brain is still trying to detach from the numbers, charts, and spreadsheets that the finance department throws at you like a machine gun loaded with pure bureaucracy.

A toast to surviving another week.

You pop open a beer can with the most satisfying sound you've heard all day. Friday night. No charts. No reports. No one-

The doorbell rings.

You freeze, the beer halfway to your lips. Who the hell shows up at your house on a Friday night? The delivery guy already came by, and your Chinese food is in the kitchen.

Maybe it's a neighbor?

Curious, but low on patience, you open the door. And that's when reality seems to collapse, because what you see doesn't make any sense. It's Lee Chaeyoung, popularly known as the weird girl from the finance department. And she's standing right there in front of you, holding a ridiculously colorful bouquet of flowers and a... box of chocolates?

"Surprise!" she exclaims, a big smile on her face.

Your brain blue-screens.

Surprise? That's the word she chose? Because you can think of several others: confusion, fear, panic - all of which seem way more appropriate. But you keep your composure, at least on the surface.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, trying not to sound like a malfunctioning robot. It's 8 PM on a Friday, and this is definitely not on your schedule.

She smiles again, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "I came to confess my feelings!"

Ah, of course, she came to confess her feelings.

Because that's totally what you do to a coworker you've barely exchanged more than "good morning" or discusses work formalities. You feel your mouth open and close, desperately trying to summon words that make sense.

You fail miserably.

She doesn’t wait for rational responses. She simply walks in, as if your house is hers, handing you the bouquet of flowers and the box of chocolates like she’s offering you a promotion to Love of My Life™.

You look at the flowers, then at the chocolates, then at her. “What’s all this?” The question slips out before you can filter it.

“It’s for you, of course!” she says with a creepy sweetness. “Do you like it?”

“Err, sure…” you reply, with a smile more fake than your boss’s expense reports. You set everything down on a table, your hand discreetly reaching for your phone in your pocket. “Loved it…”

As she continues to ramble on about how you two have so much to talk about, you open one of the chat groups (the one reserved only for questionable banter) with the most evil creatures you know - your coworkers.

Your fingers fly across the keyboard:

"HELP!! LEE CHAEYOUNG IS AT MY HOUSE WITH FLOWERS AND CHOCOLATE!!!! SOS!!"

“I already know everything,” she says, grinning from ear to ear.

You freeze. You think your ears must be playing tricks on you. "Know everything about what?"

She giggles, the lightest, most annoyingly satisfied laugh you've ever heard. "You don’t have to hide anymore, silly, the feeling is mutual."

Right.

This.

Is.

Happening.

You force a smile that probably looks more like a grimace and try again, like you're talking to a very confused child. "I don’t know what you’re talking about, Chaeyoung."

She raises an eyebrow, as if you're the weird one here. "The guys in the department told me everything. I know you’re in love with me."

And at that exact moment, your phone vibrates with the fury of a thousand demons. You glance at the group chat. Messages are pouring in, a flurry of "lol" and laughing emojis. And that's when the truth stabs into your brain like a dagger: they set you up.

The bastards planned this.

“Who told you that?” Your voice comes out hoarse, like you've swallowed a cactus.

“Hmm, pretty much everyone in the finance department, and a few people from HR.”

You gulp. And that’s the closest you’ve ever come to a heart attack.

Chaeyoung tilts her head, her eyes sparkling with unshakable sweetness. “I... didn't expect you of all people to fall for me.” She says this with a tone of shyness that’s supposed to melt hearts. But yours, right now, is pounding so hard it feels like it might break through your chest and run for the door.

You’re about to say something - anything to get out of this mess - when she continues. “I guess now I can be honest and say I haven’t been able to take my eyes off you since I joined the company.” She brushes her hair aside, clearly rehearsing what’s coming next. “You were one of the few people who tried to help me fit in. I’m really grateful for that.”

That last part hits you like a metal bar to the face. Because, yeah, you helped her out. But only because... well, it’s what you do. You were kind to her like you would’ve been to any other lost newbie in the corporate jungle. But now that you think about it, you realize the only person she's remotely close to at the company is you.

And, worth noting, looking at Chaeyoung now, outside of work, she seems… different. Even… put together. And pretty. Not the same clumsy Chaeyoung you bump into at the printer every day.

"Hmm... Want a beer?" you ask, because when your brain’s about to explode, your body decides beer is the solution to absolutely everything.

“Oh, sure, I love beer,” she replies, sitting down on the couch and placing her little purse on the coffee table.

You head to the kitchen, still dazed. You grab another beer. The sound of the can opening feels like a muffled cry for help. When you return to the living room, there she is, sitting peacefully, looking around. “Your place is really nice,” she comments. “So neat. I figured it would be, it matches your personality.”

You hand her the beer and sit down, wishing the couch would swallow you whole. Maybe, if you sit still enough, the universe will decide none of this is happening, and you’ll be back to a Friday night of just beer and silence. But no. Chaeyoung is there, on your couch, and she brought you a bouquet of flowers that you have no idea what to do with (do you need to water those?).

“So…” you try to start, but your mind is emptier than a ghost town. "What exactly do you think we’re talking about here?"

She smiles, that shy smile that makes you want to look anywhere but at her face. "I already said. The guys in the finance department told me you're in love with me."

You feel sweat trickle down the back of your neck, but you keep smiling. It’s the smile of a man walking straight toward a cliff, knowing it’s there. "Oh, they said that, did they?"

"Yeah," she nods eagerly. "It wasn’t just one person, practically all your friends confirmed it. They said you were just too shy to confess."

Shy.

The word floats through your mind like a bad joke.

"Look," you say, choosing your words like you're defusing a bomb, "this seems like a huge misunderstanding."

She blushes, her cheeks turning pink as if just talking about feelings is enough to trigger a nervous breakdown. "I... I know it seems strange. I mean, I never expected you to fall for me." She looks down, nervously fiddling with her hair. "You're the type of guy that all the girls in the department notice, you know? I thought... why me?"

“Why you?” you repeat, stunned. She’s talking like you’re some kind of soap opera heartthrob, when in reality most of your days are spent trying to figure out whether it’s time to replace the printer or if it’s just out of toner.

She smiles again, a small, shy smile, almost as if she’s apologizing for existing. "It’s just... I’m not like the other girls in the office, right? Saerom is so confident. And Jisun, she’s always so put together, knows how to talk to everyone. I'm not like that."

You don’t disagree.

Because, well, she is weird. But, for some reason, that weirdness now feels a lot less annoying than it does at the office. Maybe it’s the fact that, outside the corporate setting, she actually made an effort. Her hair is down, styled, without the usual scrunchies. The dress is simple, but... it works.

“I never thought someone like you…” she continues, clearly uncomfortable, “could like someone like me."

You almost laugh, because the irony of all this is that you’re not in love. But now, suddenly, the idea of someone like you falling for her doesn’t seem as absurd as it did twenty minutes ago.

She actually seems like a pretty dateable girl at this point.

“Chaeyoung,” you begin, and it comes out softer than you expected. "I’m just a regular guy. I’m not exactly the Prince Charming they’ve made me out to be."

"I know, but… you were the only one who was kind to me from the start. You always helped me with the reports, even when I didn’t know what I was doing. And I… well, I like you too."

And that’s when you feel a slight tightening in your chest. Because, unlike everything else, this feels genuine. It’s not your coworkers' prank, not the misunderstanding about you being in love. It’s Chaeyoung, the girl everyone calls weird, admitting she likes you. And somehow, that makes you want to rethink your whole life. You never participated in the jokes about her, and when they threw the ball your way, you just stayed silent. But you also never cared enough to do anything about it. In a way, you were complicit, and now, for some reason, it’s making you feel bad.

“I’m still so impressed with your house. It’s exactly how I imagined it would be, you know? Neat, elegant. It suits you.”

“Suits me?” You chuckle, because the idea that your house suits you means you must be the most generic person in the world.

“Yes!” she replies, excited. “You’re always so organized at work, always knowing what to do. I kind of… admire that… in a man.”

Now you’re treading dangerous ground, and you internally question if maybe you’ve been a bit too nice.

As she looks at you with those big, hopeful eyes, you realize you’re back at square one. What do you say now? How do you break the fantasy she’s built without breaking her along with it? A headache starts to form, not one that builds slowly, but one that hits you like a megaphone blast. You’re trying to pretend nothing’s out of control.

But it is.

“How did you get my address, Chaeyoung?” you ask, trying to sound calm.

“Oh, it was your friend, the one with the loud laugh,” she answers innocently.

Of course. Him. The idiot with the laugh that sounds like a train on fire. Internally, you promise that, at the next happy hour, you’re going to strangle him with a phone charger cable.

You take a deep breath, trying to choose your words very, very carefully. “Look, Chaeyoung... I think there’s been a big misunderstanding here-”

“It’s okay! You don’t have to run from what you’re feeling.”

You blink a few times, trying to process what she just said. “I… what?”

She looks even more excited now, like she’s at an amusement park and you’re the main attraction. “I’m so happy about all of this. It’s a little embarrassing to say out loud, but you’re going to be my first boyfriend!”

That catches you off guard in a way even the cruelest budget spreadsheets couldn’t. “First?” you repeat, the word coming out more like a confused echo.

She nods, looking a bit shy now. “Yeah... I’ve never dated before. Guys never paid attention to me, you know? From high school till now.” She looks away, sadness creeping into her voice like a shadow.

Damn. That hits you hard. A part of you feels a pang in your chest. You try to be kind – as always.

“Hey, Chae, you look... really nice today.”

Her face lights up, practically filling the room with her smile. “Really? You like it? And my dress, do you like it too?!” She stands up from the couch and does an awkward little twirl, like she’s showing off a wedding gown.

“Yeah, yeah,” you reply, not thinking much. “It’s lovely.”

She stares at you, her eyes shining like two stars about to collide. “I know you've probably heard this a lot, but you're so beautiful. The most handsome man in the office!”

You swallow hard again, feeling your throat dry as a desert. “I… Look, I’m not sure what to do… I didn’t have plans for tonight.”

“This is perfect! Just being with you is enough.”

Now, the desperation starts crawling down your spine, spiraling. You’re in a pit, and the more you move, the deeper you sink. The phone in your pocket keeps vibrating with your friends laughing virtually.

How do you get out of this?

“Are you really staying here?” you ask, awkwardly, unsure if you even want the answer.

She smiles, content. “Of course! We’re getting to know each other better now, aren’t we? That’s important for... our future together.”

Suddenly, she lifts her nose and sniffs the air like a puppy smelling steak. “What’s that? It smells so good.”

You feel your last thread of hope shatter. “Oh, that’s... Chinese food. I was thinking of eating it later.”

Her eyes light up again. “I love Chinese food!”

You look at the floor, the flowers, anything but her, and finally surrender to the tide that’s drowning you. “Err, wanna… share?”

She smiles, genuinely happy, as if this is the night of her dreams.

And you, well, you’re going to need more beer.

As you drag yourself to the kitchen, you feel the weight of the situation piling on your back. The microwave beeps, and all you can think is how it’s mirroring your brain: spinning in circles, overheating, and on the verge of exploding. Suddenly, Chaeyoung’s voice cuts through the silence from the living room, terribly cheerful, of course:

“I remember my first week at the company! Gosh, I was so lost, but you were amazing. Remember? When I stood by the coffee machine, trying to figure it out? And then you showed me the right button! It was so obvious after you explained it! You’re so good with that kind of thing.”

You’re tapping your chopsticks on the counter while glancing at your phone, checking the friends - or traitors - group. It’s chaos. A sea of messages. “HAHAHA dude, you’re FUCKED,” “new couple in the department?” and the inevitable flood of “congrats!” You type quickly: "THIS WILL HAVE REVENGE!!"

Chaeyoung continues, her voice full of admiration. “And that day when you helped me set up the emails, remember? I was SO confused with the passwords, and you explained it so patiently. You have this way of speaking that… it’s so calming, you know? Like you have everything under control all the time. It’s adorable.”

Adorable. That word echoes in your mind as you pretend to focus on the chow mein, trying to ignore the fact that your friends are turning the group chat into a stand-up comedy show at your expense. The phone buzzes again. “GO GET LUCKY, CHOSEN ONE” flashes on the screen, and you sigh, tapping your chopsticks on the kitchen counter. “All of you, DIE!”

“Oh, and I’ll never forget when you helped me with that mess at the copier!” Chaeyoung now seems to be narrating the greatest hits of your life, as if every moment was a milestone of heroic kindness. “You just pressed a few buttons, and suddenly the machine stopped choking on the paper. I was so impressed! And that serious look you had, like you knew exactly what you were doing… it’s so… cute!”

Cute. Of course.

Now, besides being the victim of a coldly calculated prank, you’re cute. While the rice continues to warm up, you open your phone again. Your friends are losing their minds laughing. “She’s already at your place, bro, it’s happening!” “Go for it with the weird girl!!” and “Is her dress sexy? Lol”. Your fingers fly across the keyboard: Seriously, FUCK YOU ALL!!!

Chaeyoung is still in the living room, completely oblivious to the mental storm you’re going through. “You’re always so… grounded, you know? Even when we’re in the middle of crazy deadlines, you never seem stressed. I find that amazing. Sometimes I watch you at your desk, the way you press the keys on your keyboard, so focused... It’s like you have a superpower!” She laughs at herself, that light, childish laugh that makes you feel like you’re in a rom-com scene – one you never wanted to be in.

You open the microwave, steam rising in slow waves. “You know, Chaeyoung? I just… do what everyone does at work. There’s nothing special about it,” you shout from the kitchen, trying to bring some reality to the conversation.

“Oh, but you are special!” Her voice returns with renewed enthusiasm, as if she’d been waiting for that cue. “Most people don’t even notice, but I see how much you care about the details. Like when you organize your desk! I love how your papers are always stacked neatly, the post-its all lined up. And that basic black mousepad? It’s so you.”

You rub your face, trying to process how your life came to this: your silent obsession with organization becoming the object of romantic fascination. All you wanted was to eat Chinese food in peace and maybe watch something mindless on TV.

The phone buzzes again, and you glance quickly. A meme of a wedding ring with the caption “Tonight’s the night.” You grit your teeth, but before you can respond, Chaeyoung appears in the kitchen doorway, smiling.

“Did you know you’re the only one who always says good morning to everyone when you come into the office?” She walks closer, holding a pillow like it’s some emotional prop. “I noticed that since day one. It’s the kind of thing that makes a big difference, you know? Little gestures like that… they mean a lot to me.”

“Yeah… I just try to be polite.”

She smiles as if it’s the greatest declaration of love ever made. You head back to the living room, placing the food on the coffee table, seeing no other way out, and murmur a final silent prayer: that fate, karma, or whoever is in charge might have mercy on your soul.

—

Somehow, you’re now sitting in your armchair, watching Babe on streaming. You’re not entirely sure how you got here. One minute, you were sharing Chinese food with a slightly unhinged coworker, and the next, she was excitedly explaining how this was her absolute favorite movie ever.

And, of course, Babe is now playing on your TV, while Chaeyoung sits on your couch, completely at home, narrating the movie as if you were blind and deaf.

"This part is so cute!" she exclaims as Babe tries to herd the sheep. "Look how determined he is! I love how he never gives up, you know? He reminds me of myself!"

You barely had time to grab a second beer before realizing, yeah, this is your night now: you, Chaeyoung, Babe, and the creeping feeling that reality is unraveling around you. With each new scene, she adds commentary, providing deep analysis of the pig’s nearly tragic determination.

"I related so much to Babe because he’s small and out of place, you know? Kind of like me at the company. No one expected anything from me. But I also want to herd my sheep someday!"

You blink slowly. "Uh… yeah, I can see the comparison."

"Right?" She’s thrilled, completely absorbed in the movie and her esoteric life metaphors. The movie plays on, and you try to focus on the pig, hoping he'll herd some clarity into your own situation.

Then, without warning, she gives you that look again - the dangerous one you don’t dare hold for too long. "Hey, why are you sitting over there in the armchair? Come sit on the couch."

You freeze for a second. The armchair, now that you think about it, feels like your last bastion of emotional safety. The couch is the battlefield, and she’s calling you to the front lines. "Oh, no, I’m fine here," you reply, trying to be polite but sounding like someone who just saw a ghost.

"Seriously? Come on, the couch is way comfier. It’ll be fun, we can watch together!"

The word together echoes in your mind like the sound of a giant hammer about to fall. You pretend to think about it for a moment, as if you still had a choice. "Alright, sure," you finally say, getting up with all the enthusiasm of someone walking to the electric chair.

You sit on the farthest corner of the couch, as far from her as you can without being rude. Okay, you think, this isn’t so bad. But then, little by little, she starts edging closer. First, she leans slightly toward the middle. Then, without ceremony, she practically leaps from one cushion to the next.

The proximity is becoming undeniable. You can almost feel the warmth of her beside you. And, of course, she keeps narrating the movie as if nothing else in the world mattered but Babe and his adventures.

"This is the part where Maa dies mutilated by dogs! I always cry here," she says with a sad expression.

Meanwhile, you feel a tear forming inside - not for the Maa, but for the situation that spiraled out of control long ago.

She glances at you, and you try to focus on the movie, but now it’s impossible to ignore how close she is. Until, suddenly, she leans her head on your shoulder. Gently at first, testing your reaction. And you, with the grace of a wooden post, sit there frozen, trying not to look like a department store mannequin.

"This is so nice, isn’t it?" she murmurs, her eyes still on the screen, but her voice soft, almost too sweet.

"Yeah… the pig. It’s… cool." You can’t even form coherent sentences anymore, feeling like the trap has fully closed around you. She’s there, nestled against you, and you’re more trapped than ever in this bizarre night.

Hours pass, and the movie finally ends with Babe herding his sheep like an unlikely hero. Chaeyoung jumps up from the couch, clapping her hands like she’s in a theater. Her eyes are shining, completely caught up in the emotion of the moment.

"Bravo! Best movie ever!" she exclaims, grinning from ear to ear. You, sitting on the couch, can’t help but chuckle. She really is a character.

Who claps while watching a streaming movie at home?

She turns to you, full of expectation. "So? What did you think? Isn’t it just wonderful?"

You allow yourself to relax a little, shrugging playfully. "It’s a fun movie, for sure… But, so, what are we watching tomorrow? Garfield?"

You threw the comment out there with a hint of sarcasm, certain she’d catch the joke. But, as with everything tonight, Chaeyoung takes it the wrong way.

"Garfield?! I love Garfield!" she exclaims with an enthusiasm you’d never associate with a conversation about Garfield. "We’re totally watching that tomorrow! I knew we had so much in common!" Before you can even open your mouth to clarify, she’s already hugging you with such excitement that you almost trip. "We were made for each other!" she murmurs, her face pressed against your chest.

And there you are, being squeezed by someone’s unshakeable devotion, who clearly didn’t catch the joke. Worse, you are starting to feel unwell. Not for the hug - though that’s plenty awkward - but because, well, you don’t want to hurt her. Chaeyoung may be odd, but she doesn’t deserve to have her heart shattered over a cruel prank by your coworkers.

You clear your throat, uncomfortable. "So, Chaeyoung… it’s getting kinda late, right? Maybe you should… head home."

She releases the hug, stepping back a little, looking genuinely sad. "Wow, you’re right. I didn’t even notice how late it was," she says, biting her lip, clearly regretful about leaving.

You mutter something almost inaudible, like, "Me neither..." which, let’s be honest, could be interpreted in several ways. Before things can get any more awkward, you grab your phone and call her an Uber. While you wait in a slightly tense silence, Chaeyoung picks up the box of chocolates and offers you one.

"This one’s special. Try it," she says, smiling.

You take it, because, well, what else can you do at this point? You bite into the chocolate, and to your surprise: it’s incredible! The dark chocolate and creamy filling are like a gourmet explosion in your mouth.

"This is delicious!" you admit, genuinely impressed.

Chaeyoung’s eyes light up even more. "I made it myself!"

You really didn’t expect that. "Really? Wow, it’s perfect."

She beams, clearly flattered, and suddenly seems even prouder. "Now that we’re together, you’re going to have these every day! I’ll make you sweets all the time.”

You swallow hard, not because of the chocolate, but because, honestly, you didn't expect this level of commitment in any relationship, let alone one that started with a huge misunderstanding.

But before you can respond, the Uber driver honks outside.

Chaeyoung stands up, grabbing her bag and getting ready to leave, but suddenly stops at the door and turns to you with an almost childlike expression of expectation. "Wait, aren’t you going to kiss me?"

You're standing there, in your living room, and the world seems to have frozen at the exact moment Chaeyoung says something you never thought you'd hear.

The air gets heavy, as if someone suddenly turned off gravity. You look at her, blinking, almost waiting for it to be a joke, but the gleam in her eyes... that gleam of absolute expectation... suggests it’s not. What do you do now? Jumping out the window doesn’t seem practical, and no convincing excuse comes to mind, leaving you with only one option:

"Ah... yeah, sure..." you begin, but the words betray you. Your brain is already short-circuiting. You think about saying it's not a good idea, that this is all a mistake, that maybe she should think a bit more before asking questions that make you want to vanish. But before anything sensible comes out of your mouth, you sigh and slowly approach Chaeyoung. The sparkle in her eyes grows brighter, almost as if it's about to explode from sheer excitement. Your feet feel like they weigh a ton, and your mind is screaming a chorus of don’t do this, while your body, for some unfathomable reason, propels you forward.

You lean in, and for a second of pure eternity, you’re both just inches apart. Chaeyoung is still looking at you like she's waiting for you to recite some kind of vow. There’s no escaping this now.

Then, before your mind can stop you, you kiss her.

At first, it’s like kissing a wax statue. She’s completely still, tense, as if she doesn’t quite know what to do with her own lips. And for a terrible moment, you think you’ve made the biggest mistake of your life. But then, slowly, she begins to relax. You feel her body soften, and the kiss, which initially felt so mechanical, starts turning into something… different.

Her hand unexpectedly rises to touch your arm, and you feel the warmth of her touch seep through your skin like static electricity. Without even realizing it, your own hand has slid to her waist, gently pulling her closer. Her perfume - a mix of something sweet and floral, maybe jasmine, maybe some kind of unknown magic - floods your senses, and for a moment, as absurd as it seems, the outside world completely disappears.

Chaeyoung is the first to pull away, her eyes still wide, as if she’s just reached nirvana. "That... that was amazing!" she says breathlessly, her voice full of awe.

You swallow. "Yeah... it was..." You try to find words, but your mind is still in a total void.

She smiles, so sweetly it’s almost disconcerting. "Did you know that was my first kiss?"

You freeze, the words first kiss echoing in your head like someone rang a giant bell beside you.

First kiss.

You just gave her her first kiss. And now, guilt starts flooding you. Because whatever this is, whatever is happening between you two, it definitely shouldn’t have gone this far.

And yet, here you are, with Chaeyoung still smiling, radiant like a ray of sunshine.

Before you can think of anything to say, the Uber’s horn blares outside again.

"Oh! The Uber!" she says, hurrying to the door, but before she leaves, she turns one last time with that spark in her eyes that makes you want to run to the other side of town. "I’ll come earlier tomorrow, okay? That way we can spend more time together! Thanks for the unforgettable night!"

And without waiting for a reply, she disappears through the door, leaving you standing there in the living room, trying to understand what on earth just happened.

—

You wake up Saturday to your phone vibrating on the nightstand. Still groggy, you glance at the screen. 6 new messages. All from Chaeyoung.

[08:22]

"Good morning! 🌞"

[08:23]

"Last night was magical... I can still feel your touch on my lips 💞"

[08:23]

"I can’t wait to see Garfield tonight!"

[08:24]

"Are you up yet? :)"

[08:40]

"Look at my scrambled eggs! 🍳"

(accompanied by a pic of... scrambled eggs, naturally).

[08:55]

"And my cat, Lily, is waiting to get to know you better! 🐱"

(a pic of her cat, apparently with no clue of what’s going on).

You sigh, rubbing your eyes to wake up fully. The day has barely started and Chaeyoung is already in fifth gear, ready to drag you along. But before you can come up with a response, your work group chat starts blowing up too. And now, less tired, you realize that it wasn't a good idea to tell the embarrassing details.

Strictly Serious and Professional Coworkers Group:

"GOOD MORNING LADIES!

Oh, especially to our Brad Pitt haha"

"By the way, how was the kiss? 😘"

"Does she already call you 'baby'??"

"I can't believe that even Chaeyoung is dating and I'm not 😂😂"

"Admit it, you’re in love!"

"Never thought I’d be excited for Monday"

You roll your eyes at the group messages, cursing your fate. "I need help, you guys took this way too far!" you type quickly.

“LOL chill, man, you’re in a rom-com!”

“Have you picked the wedding venue yet?”

“We helped you find the love of your life and this is how you thank us???”

“Hey, but seriously, take care of her, she seems really into you”

“Good luck, you’re gonna need it!”

“Is Garfield gonna be the best man?”

You put your phone down for a moment, hoping breakfast will bring some clarity. But the battle is only beginning. Chaeyoung keeps filling your inbox with updates about her morning, pictures of her next steps, and even a video of Lily scratching the couch.

Finally, you reply: "That’s nice, Chaeyoung. Have a great day!" She responds with a heart emoji.

The rest of the day passes agonizingly. Every half hour, a new message arrives. Pictures of her at the mall. Pictures of her eating ice cream. Pictures of Lily. She’s basically creating a diary just for you. You respond sporadically, with generic replies like "Cool" or "Cute cat," but without much enthusiasm. All in a desperate attempt not to encourage her even more.

Then, at 5:45 PM, you receive the most dreaded message: "I’ll be there at 7:00!!! :)"

You knew this moment was coming. You spent the whole day trying to come up with an excuse, and nothing brilliant struck your mind until this critical moment. But finally, you have an idea. The old, never-fail excuse: you’re going to say you’re sick.

"Ah, Chae… I think tonight’s going to be tricky. I’m not feeling well. I’ve got a fever and a headache"

You even add a sick emoji.

Who wouldn’t believe that?

Her reply comes almost instantly. "OMG!! What happened? Are you okay? Do you need me to bring medicine?"

"No need, I’ve already taken some. I just need to rest. We'll watch Garfield another day, I promise," you respond quickly, already feeling the vibe of a peaceful weekend.

"Aww, that’s a shame… I was so excited... :( Get better soon, sweetie 🥺"

You let out a long sigh of relief, finally thinking you're free, at least for a while. Silence falls like a comforting blanket over your house.

Peace at last.

Hours pass. You’re sitting on the couch, content, with a pizza, a cold beer, and a documentary about the Vietnam War on TV. Everything is as it should be, the natural order of things restored. Until… the doorbell rings.

You pause with the pizza halfway to your mouth.

"It can’t be her. I said I was sick."

Convinced it must be just a neighbor, you open the door with the skepticism of someone who’s seen too much of life.

But no, it’s not the neighbor.

It’s Chaeyoung.

And she’s holding a huge bag, with that cheerful smile like she’s been hired to keep you company in a cold medicine commercial.

"Surprise!" she says, walking through the door as if she already had a key. "I came to take care of you!"

Your mind freezes. For a second, you wonder if you’ve slipped into a parallel reality where "I’m sick" translates to "please come over and take care of me like I’ve broken both legs." She opens the bag and starts pulling out medicine, tissues, and even a thermos.

"I brought tea, meds, and I even made some soup!" She says it with the enthusiasm of someone who thinks they’re saving the day.

"Chaeyoung... you didn’t have to come..." you begin, trying to hide the confusion and panic already bubbling up inside you.

"Of course I did! What kind of girlfriend would I be if I didn’t take care of my baby?"

“Girlfriend?!”

Your brain almost short-circuits at that word.

"Yes! We’re in love with each other, we’re basically dating. You just need to make it official. And couples take care of each other!" She’s already taking off her coat and heading to the kitchen with the ease of someone in a '90s sitcom. "Don’t worry, I’ll handle everything. You just need to relax."

You’re left standing there in the living room, paralyzed. All you wanted was a quiet Saturday. Now, you're engulfed in the smell of soup and the absurd idea that you have a girlfriend who thinks Garfield and cold remedies are the foundation of a relationship.

She comes back with a steaming bowl of soup, handing it to you with a smile. "Here, love. This will make you feel better in no time!"

"Just… put the soup anywhere. I, uh, need to go to the bathroom real quick," you say, abruptly leaving the room.

You lock yourself in the bathroom, pulling your phone out of your pocket like a man on the edge of a breakdown. As the world outside gets increasingly... Chaeyoung, you open your friends' group chat, furiously typing:

"You're all dead. Every one of you!"

The reply comes in seconds, like hyenas circling a carcass.

"HAHAHAHA dude, you still haven't told her??"

"Seriously, someone help me. This girl’s completely in love, and it's getting out of hand. I can’t just tell her it was a prank, she'll be crushed"

"Imagine her face when she finds out, it’ll be like when Babe realizes he's NOT a herding dog"

"For the love of God, is anyone going to help me?"

A notification appears: Saerom was added to the group.

Great, Miss Nosy has entered the chat.

"I just found out what you guys did. You’re all jerks. Honestly, this prank went way too far!!"

You breathe a sigh of relief. An ally.

She continues:

"Don’t tell her it was a joke, or she’ll never step foot in the office again. You need to be more... gentle"

"Gentle? How am I supposed to be gentle?"

"Just make something up about being scarred by a past relationship, something unresolved. Say you like her but you're not ready"

"Past relationship? All my relationships were healthy... as much as they could be"

"Then use your imagination, genius. Lie and say it was traumatic. You need to talk to her before this gets out of control"

You thank her, knowing it’s going to be a disaster. But at least it’s a plan.

—

She takes another bite of your pizza, chewing absentmindedly while you take another spoonful of soup. The soup, to your surprise, isn’t bad. It's actually good, which only makes the situation more depressing. As you eat, your attention shifts to Chaeyoung, who’s happily nibbling the last slice of your pizza. You feel a pang of sadness and resignation; life really isn’t fair, but at least the soup is decent.

And then, out of nowhere, Chaeyoung starts talking about the past. Of course, she starts talking about the past, because what else did you need right now, besides a dive into emotional tragedies?

"You know," she says with a long sigh, as if recalling an old wound, "I was never one of those popular girls. Not in high school, not in college. I was always... invisible. Like, the kind of girl who’s in the group, but no one knows her name."

She leans in a little closer, her wide, bright eyes locked on you. "When I was in high school, there was a party that all the girls in my class were invited to. Me? Not even a mention. Not even an invitation. And the boys? They didn’t even know I existed. They were all more interested in the girls who wore lip gloss and knew how to walk in heels. I just... I just wanted someone, anyone, to notice me, you know?"

You feel the soup thickening in your mouth. "Yeah, I... I know what you mean." Of course, you know. Who doesn't? You’ve met plenty of girls like that, from middle school to high school.

But you also know that none of this is about you, so you swallow her sadness along with the soup.

"Then, in college, I thought things would change. I even made an effort, you know? I started dressing up more. I wore contacts instead of glasses. I tried to seem more... approachable? But guess what? Nothing changed." She shrugs, like she’s used to it, but you see a flash of pain in her smile. "I tried so hard to be nice to people, to be the perfect friend, the hardworking student... And I always ended up being the one who got forgotten when they made lunch plans after class. The other girls would get together to take cute pictures with their boyfriends, and me? Well, I took selfies with my cat."

You give a smile, and this time it’s not forced. There’s something genuine about the way she talks, a kind of sweet sincerity, even if a bit overdone. "Lily?"

She smiles. "Lily! Yeah. She’s the only one who’s been there for me, you know? Always listening, always understanding... She never judged me. And now, baby," - because of course, she keeps calling you that - "now I have you. And I never thought this would happen. I guess it was worth waiting all this time."

There’s something touching about all of this. What starts as a slight discomfort slowly turns into self-reflection. You always thought these stories were, deep down, about other people. But as she talks, you realize that maybe you understand exactly how she feels: that invisibility, the sense that the world keeps spinning without even noticing your presence.

And, before you know it, you start sharing a bit of your own past. Not the big details, but enough to fill the conversation. You talk about how quiet you were in school, how you had friends but were never the center of attention. "I was more the guy who stayed in the library while everyone else was playing basketball," you say.

She looks at you, almost shocked. "Really? You seem so... popular now. I mean, you talk to everyone at the office. People always listen to what you say."

You smile with a hint of irony. "I guess I learned to adapt."

"That’s amazing." Her eyes shine again, this time with genuine admiration. "I was never good at that. Adapting, I mean. That’s why it was so hard when I started at work... If you hadn’t been so kind to me at the beginning, I don’t even know how I would’ve managed."

And then, in a flash of courage you can’t quite understand, you let out a compliment. "You’re more adaptable than you think, Chae. And honestly, you look... really pretty today."

The smile she gives you could light up a stadium. "You really think so?”

"Yeah," you say, trying to keep your tone light, not wanting to put too much weight on the compliment, but already feeling the growing responsibility behind every word. "The makeup, the way you styled your hair. Everything."

She looks so radiant that you almost regret saying it. Almost. "Wow, you're the best! Seriously! I never thought a guy like you would even notice me. I know, for you, it must be normal to be... amazing." She looks down, her cheeks turning pink. "But for me, all of this is so new. It's like, all of a sudden, I’ve found... the perfect person."

Oh no.

The perfect person.

That phrase hits you like an invisible anvil.

Desperately searching for a way out, you look away. "Well, sometimes I think... a young bird shouldn't be trapped in a cage." You start rambling, hoping the metaphor will get through to her, but she just blinks, confused. "You know," you continue, already sweating internally, "birds should fly free, explore the world."

She nods, smiling. "Oh, yes, I totally agree! I think cages are cruel. I would never keep a bird trapped. They need to be free." And there goes your metaphor. You try to force a laugh, but it sounds like the creak of an old, rusty door. "Everyone should realize that, it's so obvious." Chaeyoung smiles, fully absorbed in her own romantic vision of things. "Like I was saying, I’ve found my person. And now, with you, I feel like I can finally be myself."

“Err, excuse me for a second,” you say, standing up from the couch, “I need to go to the bathroom.”

The tiled walls around you feel like the only safe place in the house. A precious moment to breathe, and of course, update the group:

"Dude, this is harder than I thought. She's opening up about her whole life and... God, it feels impossible to escape without breaking her"

The group chat starts popping off like popcorn in hot oil.

"Man, for the love of God, just tell her you have a traumatic past. Like, 'Oh, my heart's been broken and I'm not ready for this"

Naturally, someone else chimes in.

"Seriously, that excuse ALWAYS works. Girls don’t question it, they just give you that ‘aww, poor thing’ look, and you’re good"

"I'm scared she’s going to start crying. I can't handle girls crying"

You can almost hear the collective sigh of frustration from the other side of the screen.

"Crying? That's the least you're gonna have to deal with if you keep dragging this out. Seriously, if you were more direct, she’d be out of there by now"

"YOU’RE the ones who put this ridiculous idea in her head! It’s not like I asked for this mess"

"Yeah, but you’re the one letting it go on this long. We picked you as the target because you’re all mature and polite; we thought you could handle it"

"Dude, man up. What’s a few tears? You’ll survive. She’ll survive"

"Survive? I’m the only one here who had to hear about how her cat is the only being who’s ever loved her unconditionally since college! What do you want me to do? Crush her dreams with a sledgehammer?"

"Yes. That’s exactly what we want"

You’re about to type another angry response when Saerom steps in with a message.

"Guys, seriously, the problem is he's a coward. He’s afraid of a cute girl who just wants love. You're dragging this out unnecessarily. I'd say you’re even enjoying having a girl at your feet..."

Oh, Saerom, this is the same Saerom who was doubled over laughing at lunch yesterday when Chaeyoung smiled every time she looked at you. You take a deep breath before typing.

"Excuse me, WHO set this up in the first place? I know it wasn't me. And don’t pretend to be all sensible now, Saerom, I remember you making jokes about Chaeyoung when she first joined the company. Just a reminder: this fucking prank was NOT MY IDEA"

Saerom replies:

"And who’s feeding her delusion, pretending everything’s fine?

Exactly, YOU"

You lean against the sink, letting out a heavy sigh. This conversation is going nowhere. You didn’t ask for this, didn’t ask to be dragged into the emotional life of someone as intense and awkward as Chaeyoung. But here you are, suffering because you’re too nice, while your so-called friends are more interested in watching you struggle.

The mental alarm bell of "just end this already" rings in your head, but like a soldier without ammunition, you find yourself fighting through a minefield of hopes and expectations.

The truth is, as you type, you already know you won’t be able to be direct. Not with Chaeyoung, not with that strange mix of awkward sweetness and infectious enthusiasm she brings.

You don’t want to be the villain in her story.

"Fine, I’ll do something about it. But if she starts crying, that’s on you guys. You’ll all pay"

Taking a deep breath, you leave the bathroom, ready to put the plan in motion. But when you return to the living room, there's no sign of Chaeyoung. The TV is still on, some random show playing, but she... is gone.

"Chae?" you call, wandering through the house.

Nothing.

Then, you find her in the music room, admiring your vinyl collection. She’s standing in front of the shelves, her fingers gently brushing over the album covers.

"You have an amazing collection!" she exclaims, spinning on her heels to face you, her eyes full of admiration. "I had no idea you collected records!"

You try to downplay it. "Oh, it's just a silly hobby. I like music... and vinyl. There’s something more authentic about the sound, you know?"

She picks up an album, inspecting the cover art. "Wow. Led Zeppelin, The Smiths, Pink Floyd... You have great taste. This is so... you!" She smiles, as if that explains everything.

You chuckle. "Well, they’re classics, right?"

Chaeyoung moves from one record to the next. Each vinyl is treated like a relic, something precious, and you, watching from the other side of the room, can’t help but smile. It’s strange, but something about the way she marvels at your collection makes you... happy.

"Oh my God, you have The Beatles! I love them. Did you know I once painted a picture inspired by ‘Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds’? It was all in shades of purple and blue, kind of psychedelic, with floating stars and... Well, I’m terrible at describing it, but you get the idea!" Chaeyoung talks so fast that the words seem to trip over each other, as if they're racing to get out of her mouth.

"Wait, you paint?" The surprise in your voice is genuine. So far, Chaeyoung has been full of surprises, but the fact that she paints is something you definitely didn’t expect.

She beams, excited, putting the Beatles record back and turning to you with shining eyes. "Yeah! Ever since I was a kid, actually. In school, I was that weird girl who would be painting instead of paying attention in math class. Not that my teachers liked that, but I always thought art was more important than calculating angles."

You nod, genuinely intrigued by how interested you are. "And what do you paint besides psychedelic Beatles scenes?"

"Oh, a bit of everything! Nature, flowers, cats, starry skies... Mostly when I’m sad, I paint the night sky. The stars make me feel... less alone."

The image of Chaeyoung painting in silence, surrounded by colors and stars, fills your mind. And it’s impossible not to find her endearing in this moment. The energetic and slightly crazy girl who’s now in your house has a depth you hadn’t noticed before. You find yourself curious, more interested than you expected.

"I never imagined you were a painter," you say. "It must be nice to have something like that, to express how you feel."

She shrugs but smiles proudly. "Yeah, it helps. Sometimes life gets confusing, you know? And so do people. But when I paint, none of that matters. It's just me, the colors, and the rest of the world disappears."

You smile, stepping closer to her. "I'd love to see one of your paintings someday."

Her eyes widen, and for a moment, she’s speechless, something rare for her. "Really? You’d like that?"

"Of course," you respond, without realizing just how honest you're being. "I think it’d be amazing."

Chaeyoung smiles so openly that you almost feel the room warm up. "I’d love to show you! I have a bunch at home. I thought about sending you some pictures today, but I wanted you to see them in person. I wanted it to be kind of a surprise."

You find yourself torn.

Now, seeing her here, excited about your records, almost dancing with every vinyl she picks up, you begin to feel something uncomfortable. Something that nags at your conscience like an itch.

Maybe, just maybe, you weren't as eager to end this as you thought.

Yes, all of this started as a big prank. Yes, your coworkers are a bunch of jerks who threw you into this situation without mercy. And yes, Chaeyoung… well, she’s a bit eccentric, to say the least. But there's something about her, a sincerity, a disarming purity, that makes it hard to keep thinking of her as just "the weird girl from the office."

You look at her now, smiling at something she found - a David Bowie album you’d almost forgotten you had. The way she interacts with your things, as if she’s discovering every part of you with the same enthusiasm a child would have opening a Christmas present. There’s no pretense in anything she does. Chaeyoung isn’t trying to impress you. She’s not here to prove anything. She’s just... herself. And as scary as that is, it’s also, in some way, comforting.

Suddenly, the excuse you were about to use - "I'm not ready, I'm still recovering from a bad relationship" - seems too fake to you.

A small voice - the kind that always knows more than the rest of you is willing to admit - whispers that maybe, just maybe, you’re overcomplicating things. Maybe it wouldn’t be the end of the world if you just… let things happen.

“Are you okay?” Chaeyoung asks suddenly, turning to you with a smile.

“Yeah, just... thinking.”

“Thinking about what?” She approaches with her usual curiosity.

You hesitate. “I was thinking that... maybe I’ve been too quick to try and figure all this out.”

She frowns for a moment, trying to read between the lines. Then her face lights up. "You’re worried that things are moving too fast?"

"Yeah, something like that."

"Look, I'm not good with this stuff. Dating, friendships, these... relationship rules. But I know I like you. And I know you make me happy. I don't know what else I should be thinking about besides that."

And in that moment, reality hits you hard. Maybe the problem was never Chaeyoung. Maybe the problem is you, stuck in an idea of how things should be, when in fact, what you’re experiencing now is as real as anything you could’ve planned.

"You're right," you say finally, feeling a strange mix of relief and acceptance. "I think I was overcomplicating it… By the way, can I ask if you're free tomorrow night?"

"Yes! Why?"

"I... was thinking... maybe I could take you out to dinner."

If she was excited before, now she looks like she’s won the lottery. "REALLY? Oh my God, yes! Of course, I’d love to!" She starts bouncing slightly, barely able to contain her excitement. "Oh wow, this is going to be amazing! I can't believe you want to take me out to dinner!"

"Yeah, well... I just thought it’d be nice. Nothing too fancy."

"Nothing too fancy?" She looks at you incredulously. "It’s the best thing ever! It’s going to be so romantic!" And then, without warning, she hugs you. "I knew you were a gentleman from the start!"

You clear your throat, feeling a bit awkward. "Well, uh... since it’s raining outside... do you want to stay over tonight?"

And if you thought she was happy before, now she’s absolutely over the moon. "OF COURSE I DO! Actually, when I came, I thought you were still sick, so I brought my pajamas. I thought maybe you'd need someone to take care of you."

She smiles with such genuine innocence that you almost forget you were plotting to end this a few minutes ago.

But the truth is, deep down, you’ve always found her oddness at work kind of... cute. Like that day she showed up with dinosaur socks under her business slacks. The whole office laughed behind her back, but you thought, in some way, it was adorable. And brave. She didn’t care about the unspoken rules of the workplace. She was just being herself, and that took a kind of strength you, for some reason, had never given proper credit to.

You remember when she opened her lunchbox during the lunch break, revealing a work of art made of food: rice in the shape of a heart, seaweed bears, and vegetables so well-arranged they looked like a painting. Everyone laughed, called it childish, but you... You found yourself admiring it. You didn’t say anything, of course. Stayed quiet. But, honestly, you thought it was incredibly creative.

And when she was in charge of organizing the year-end party? Everyone was horrified by the PowerPoint full of emojis and bouncing animations. To them, it was “corny”. To you, it was a genuine attempt to make something fun. Something you secretly admired. You could see how hard she had tried. But, as always, you bit your tongue, let the moment pass, and hid in the mediocrity of consensus.

Now, as she smiles at you, you have this epiphany: maybe you’ve always liked her. Not in the obvious, immediate way the rest of the world expects. But in a subtler, quieter way. The kind of attraction that comes from admiring someone for being authentic, for being weird in a way the rest of the world finds unsettling, but you... well, you’ve always found fascinating.

And then, there's the other thing: all this time, you weren't worried about her. You were worried about what others would think. That invisible weight you carry when you're around people who judge you for everything, even the way you look at someone. Your friends, the office, the behind-the-back laughter. They shaped you more than you wanted to admit. You stayed silent when they laughed at her, you let them guide your perception, even when, deep down, you knew something was off. And this makes you think that things would have to change now. No more complacency. No more jokes at Chaeyoung’s expense. Everyone in the office would treat her well from now on, and you would ensure that.

You realize it wasn’t her who pushed you away. It was your own cowardice. The way you let others influence what you felt. And now, seeing her here, surrounded by your records, you realize you’re more comfortable than you’ve ever been with anyone else.

"Can I kiss you?" you ask.

She stares at you for a second, maybe surprised by the softness of the question, but then she smiles. "Of course you can!"

And then, without further hesitation, you lean in and kiss her. It's the kind of kiss that makes time stop - or, at least, makes you wish it would. Her arms naturally find their way around your neck, and for a moment, it's just the warmth of her lips, the way she fits into you.

When you finally pull apart, breathless, she sighs and says, without any filter: "I like your lips."

You laugh, a little surprised by her bluntness. "That's a pretty... direct comment." But you can't help agreeing. "I like your lips too." And, without thinking much, you brush a strand of hair behind her ear. That gesture that should be cliché, but somehow, it fits.

You look at her, trying to guess what's going on in Chaeyoung's mind, who now has her eyes cast down, biting her lip, and you know the atmosphere is about to change.

"Do you... find me attractive?" The question comes out of nowhere, as if it escaped from the deepest corner of her mind. Her voice was a bit hesitant, but there was a raw honesty there. The kind of honesty you only find in children or in adults who've had more disappointments than they could count.

You stare at her, astonished, for two reasons. One, that she truly doesn't realize how attractive she is, and two, that the question seems to come loaded with a raw expectation of approval. "Of course you are," you say, with more certainty than you intended. "You're very attractive."

She blushes, and her fingers begin to nervously play with the fabric of her dress. "It's just... I've always wanted... you know... to experience that thing. And with you, the desire only grows," she admits, the words coming out in a nervous whisper. "I keep imagining all sorts of things... many things."

It's rare for you to be speechless, but here you are, completely disarmed by her confession. "I understand," you respond, trying to ignore the weight of it, but there's something in the way she looks at you, like she's trusting you with an immense secret, that makes your voice come out softer. And then, before the conversation can unravel, she rushes to continue:

"I don't want you to think I just... just see you like this, as if you're only... an object of desire , you know?" Her voice is a flurry of words, as if the mere act of speaking is the only way to keep from drowning in her insecurities. "I love everything about you - the way you care, the way you talk, the way you dress, your quirks... It's just-"

"Chae," you interrupt her with a smile, gently taking her hand. "It's okay. I get what you mean."

She seems relieved, but still a little lost, as if trying to realign her inner compass. You hold her hand more firmly, the warmth and firmness grounding her. "And if you want, if you feel comfortable... I don't see any problem with... well, us doing this."

The color deepens in Chaeyoung's cheeks, which seemed impossible, and she lets out a small sigh, almost as if absorbing the gravity of what you just said. "Do you think... it's not too fast?" Her voice is quieter now, more vulnerable. "I... I thought we'd only do this after, I don't know, getting married ." She laughs nervously.

You laugh too, the kind of laugh that makes the nervousness dissipate a little. "Married? That would take a long time." You lean in a little closer, lowering your voice as if sharing a secret. "And honestly, it would be torture to wait that long, you know... with you being like this."

"Like what?" she asks, and there's genuine curiosity in her voice, almost childlike, as if she doesn't realize just how much Chaeyoung is... her.

"Like... you. So beautiful, so unique," you reply, your eyes locked on hers, hoping she understands that you truly believe this.

She looks away and murmurs, "I... I wouldn't be able to wait that long either." And then, with a kind of honesty that only Chaeyoung could muster, she adds, "Especially with you being so... hot."

You almost choke on the sincerity of her response, but before you can react, something inside you, perhaps an impulse you didn't even know you had, makes you act. With a sudden movement, you scoop her into your arms.

Chaeyoung lets out a small gasp of surprise, her arms wrapping around your neck. "W-what are you doing?" Her surprise is genuine, but there's a laugh hidden behind it.

"Taking you to the bedroom," you respond with a calm smile.

She looks at you, her face flushed and her eyes shining. "Are we... doing this now?"

"If you want," you say calmly.

Chaeyoung seems to reflect for a moment, but her eyes meet yours, and something shifts in her. "Yes," she murmurs, her voice soft but resolute. "I want to."

As you carry Chaeyoung to the bedroom, the rain continues to patter softly against the windows, as if providing the soundtrack to a scene even the gods of romantic comedies couldn't have predicted. When you lay her gently on the bed, you feel the weight of something larger than yourself approaching, a mix of desire and uncertainty that seems to hang in the air. But when your lips meet hers, all those thoughts simply... vanish.

She's warm, soft, and each kiss you share seems to last longer than the one before, as if time is slowing down, or maybe the rain outside is trying to set the pace.

You pull back for a moment, removing your shirt in a gesture you've probably done a million times, but to her, it seems incredibly unique, and Chaeyoung can't hide her surprise. Her eyes widen for a brief second before softening into something like admiration.

"Wow," she says, almost reverently, as if she's admiring a Renaissance masterpiece in a museum and not your body, which, to be honest, is far too generous a comparison, but let's go with it.

At that exact moment, your phone vibrates in your pocket, and for a second, the cruel and merciless universe reminds you of your friends' existence. You pull out your phone, read the messages - something like "so, did it work?" - and without thinking twice, you turn the device off.

"You... look so... sexy," Chaeyoung murmurs, then laughs a little, clearly fighting the shyness that's winning. "I've never... touched a man's bare chest before."

You smile slightly, moving closer again. "Then savor the moment," you say, and she hesitates before sliding her hands over your abdomen, her fingers exploring your skin with a shy curiosity, almost innocent. Her touch is light at first, but soon gains a bit more confidence.

Meanwhile, you kiss her neck, breathing in her sweet scent, and the way she shivers under your lips makes you lose yourself even more.

You begin to slide the thin straps of her dress off her shoulders, moving slowly, kissing every inch of exposed skin. When the dress reaches her waist, Chaeyoung, in a way that is both shy and determined, sits up slightly and pulls it off completely, letting it fall in a forgotten pile on the floor. Now, only in her panties and bra, she looks at you with wide, nervous eyes, as if waiting for your assessment.

And, of course, you can't hold back. "You're so beautiful, Chaeyoung." Your words are simple but carry a truth that, by the way she immediately blushes, impacts her more than any grand compliment ever could.

She looks away for a second, a shy smile playing on her lips. "I... I never thought that... anyone would think that." She shifts uncomfortably, but her discomfort only heightens her innocent charm.

You also stand, beginning to unbutton your pants, the sound of the buttons echoing almost like a beat amid the rain outside. "Lie down, Chaeyoung," you say softly, your voice gentle but firm.

She stays still for about three seconds before obeying, lying back on the bed, her body now completely surrendered to you, and to the moment that, suddenly, no longer seems so full of uncertainty.

Then, you gently spread Chae's legs in a way she didn't expect. Her eyes are fixed on the ceiling, but you notice the nervousness in her trembling fingers and the slight tapping of her feet. "It's okay," you whisper. She lets out a small laugh, the kind that only happens when someone is scared but wants to appear brave.

Kissing the inside of her thigh, you feel the shiver that runs through Chae's slender body. She can't hide the tension but says nothing, as if waiting for you to guide her through this unknown art. Your fingers glide against the thin fabric of her panties, and you feel the growing heat between her legs. "Relax," you say, even though you know relaxing is the last thing she's going to do right now.

When you slowly remove her panties, like you're unwrapping something fragile, Chae's scent fills the air. She holds her breath for a moment, and her eyes, once lost on the ceiling, now close. Vulnerable. You know she wants this, but you also know she has no idea what she's about to feel.

You move closer, gently running your fingers over her swollen lips, parting them slightly. Your mouth follows the touch of your fingers, but you don't go straight to the point. No, that would be too easy. Instead, you kiss around, intentional kisses, your tongue tracing paths on her sensitive skin. She lets out a soft moan, her hips trying to follow your mouth, but you don't let her dictate the pace.

With one last glance at her face - where her eyes are closed and her mouth is parted in a sigh - you finally touch her clitoris with the tip of your tongue. The reaction is immediate: a small jolt, a moan that echoes in the room, like her body was just switched on. You circle her clit slowly, alternating between soft and firmer licks, feeling the smooth texture under your tongue. Chaeyoung is starting to lose herself in the pleasure, and you know because her moans are getting louder, more insistent, her hips lifting off the bed in search of more.

"Mmm, p-please," she whispers, barely audible, as if she's afraid to ask for what she really wants. You answer her request, sucking on her clit more firmly as your fingers begin to explore deeper. You slide them inside her tight pussy slowly, while continuing to lick, feeling her body's response on your tongue. The warmth around your fingers, the pressure from her inner muscles that seem unwilling to let you go.

Tasting more of her with each new lick, your mouth becomes increasingly hungry, as if the only thing that matters in the world is how her body reacts to you. The heat radiating from between her legs is almost overwhelming, and her moans, once restrained, are growing louder, more desperate. She's no longer trying to hide anything.

She just wants more. Simply more.

You stop fingering her pussy for a moment, just to hold her thighs, your hands firm as you keep her legs open, which keep trying to close, your tongue sliding over her clit in quick, intense movements. Her taste is strong now, a mix of salt and desire that makes you want everything. You feel her body tremble, her hips moving against your mouth, seeking more contact, more pressure. She is completely surrendered.

“Mmm, please… don’t stop!” she moans, her voice shaky and almost sobbing. You laugh against her skin, the sound muffled between Chae's legs, and reply with a quick glance, your eyes fixed on her face, contorted in desire.

"Are you going to come for me, Chae?" you murmur, your voice husky as your fingers slide back inside her, filling her completely. She lets out an even louder moan, her body arching, her inner muscles tightening around her fingers. "Tell me, Chae... tell me what you want," you tease, your mouth not stopping, your tongue focused on her clit while your fingers penetrate her deeply, each movement a new shock of pleasure.

“I... I'm gonna... Oh my God! II can't..." she tries to speak, but the words are lost among the moans. She's on the edge, holding on by a thread, and you can feel it. She's struggling to maintain control, but she won't last much longer.

“Go ahead,” you whisper against her, sucking her clit harder now, your mouth fully covering it while your fingers continue relentlessly. “I want you to come. Now. In my mouth.”

It's all she needed to hear. With one last loud moan, almost a scream, her body completely loses control. Her hips lift off the bed, pressing your mouth against her pussy, as if trying to swallow you. Her taste explodes on your tongue, a hot, salty rush that you devour like a reward. Chaeyoung comes hard, her body trembling violently, each moan louder than the last until she's practically sobbing from the pleasure.

You don't stop. You keep sucking, drawing out every drop, as if you want to prolong the moment, wanting more of her, wanting to feel everything. "That's it, baby… Come more, " you murmur against her, your voice almost a growl. Her moans are wild now, completely out of control, and you know you've pushed her past a limit she never knew existed.

“Please, stop! Mmm, I c-can’t anymore!” she moans, her voice trembling, as if begging for mercy, but you can tell that part of her wants you to take her even deeper. Every part of her body tightens, surrenders, and you only stop when you feel she's completely exhausted, her muscles still pulsing around your fingers.

You move up her body, her taste still on your lips, your breath heavy. Chae's face is a beautiful mess of sweat, pleasure, and confusion, but you smile, knowing what comes next.

You love this part.

“Now,” you say in a low, almost commanding voice, “I want you to feel what I did.”

Before she can process what that means, you kiss her, deep and wet, your tongue slipping into her mouth, letting her taste herself. At first, she hesitates, but soon her moans turn into something new, something that mixes with the taste you just took from her. She kisses you back, hungry, and what started as vulnerability is slowly turning into something much more lustful, more intense, and carnal.

You trail kisses down Chae's body, every inch of her skin seems simply irresistible. Her breathing quickens as you descend, her hand brushing the sheets as if searching for something to hold onto, something stable. When you reach her small, delicate breasts, you slowly pull down her bra with deliberate slowness, exposing them as if standing before something precious. Your lips touch one of her nipples, soft at first, a light suction that makes her arch her body. A soft, trembling moan escapes Chae, and you feel her fingers tighten around the fabric of the bed.

“Are you enjoying it?” you murmur against her skin, your hand now playing with her other breast, fingers teasing, squeezing lightly.

She just nods, her eyes closed, lips parted as she whispers a faint “Yes, so much... Mmm, keep going...” barely audible. There's a vulnerability in her tone, something between desire and the fear of being completely consumed by it. You obey, sucking her nipple harder, her moans growing louder, more uncontrolled, as your other hand continues to explore.

But you don't want to rush anything.

You want every touch to be a memory, something she'll feel even after it's all over.

When you stop and stand to grab the condom from the nightstand, Chae looks confused for a second, her body shifting slightly, as if sensing the absence of your touch. You pull off your boxers, the cool air brushing your skin, and her expression changes. Chae's eyes, once full of nerves, now sparkle with something different, something curious.

She watches in silence as she takes off her bra, almost mesmerized, while you put on the condom. There's something intense in that moment, in her silent admiration, like she's processing everything at once.

“I'll go slow,” you say, kneeling back on the bed, gently lifting her legs around your waist. “If it hurts too much, let me know, okay?”

Chae bites her lip and nodes, her eyes locked on yours. “I trust you... just... take it easy.”

You position yourself, the tip of your cock touching her entrance, warm and tight. The moment stretches, the air heavy between you. Slowly, you begin to push in, and the sound she makes is a mix between a moan and a sigh. The sensation is intense, her tightness almost painfully constricting. You move forward slowly, every inch feels like a battle against her body, which gradually adjusts and gives way, millimeter by millimeter.

Chae bites her lip hard, her face flushed, her hands gripping her arms as if seeking something to hold onto. “Are you okay, baby?” you ask, pausing for a moment, noticing the slight tremble in her lips.

She nods, her voice is soft and hesitant. “Yeah... I'm okay. It’s just… it’s too big.”

You smile gently, wanting to reassure her. “I'll go slow, I promise.” And with that, you start moving again, pushing in slowly until you're fully inside her. Chae lets out a long moan, her eyes tightly shut. She's so tight that every movement feels like a challenge, but you hold back, maintaining control.

Then, as you pull out slightly, you notice a small trace of blood. Her hymen had broken. “Chae,” you say, your voice filled with concern. “There's a bit of blood... how are you feeling?”

She opens her eyes, still flushed, breathing heavily. “I'm... I'm okay. It's just... strange... but... it feels good too...”

You watch her for a moment, searching for any signs of discomfort beyond what she admits. Then you continue, moving a little faster, a little deeper, and her moans start to shift in tone, the pain slowly giving way to pleasure. With each thrust, you feel her body adjusting, relaxing, the initial resistance fading away.

“Fuck, you're so tight,” you whisper as you keep thrusting into her.

You lean over her, her body trembling beneath you, her small breasts pressed against your chest. Her skin is warm, sweaty, and you can feel every shaky breath she exhales as you move inside her. Your cock slides deep, her tightness gripping you like a vice. She lets out a loud moan, her arms wrapping around your neck, her legs tightening around your hips, holding you as if afraid to let go.

“Do you like it, Chae?” you ask, your voice low and rough in her ear. You can feel her heart racing, and it only makes you want more.

She tries to answer, but everything that comes out is a moan, a broken sound of pleasure. You smile against her neck, kissing the delicate skin, tasting her sweat. “Talk to me, baby. Tell me what you're feeling.”

“Fuck, y-you're driving me crazy...” she manages to mutter, her voice cracking as you thrust deep, each stroke making her arch against the bed. “I've... I've never felt anything like this.”

You kiss her neck, sucking the sensitive skin, leaving marks that will last. “Your pussy's so wet,” you murmur against her skin, lightly biting her earlobe. “Feels like your body was made for this... for me .”

Chae lets out a high-pitched moan, her hips trying to match your rhythm, but you're in control. You thrust deeper, harder, feeling her body write with each push. “Do you feel how deep I am inside you? My thick, hard cock filling every inch of your pussy.”

She can only moan in response, her fingers digging into your back, scratching the skin as pleasure overwhelms her. And you love this, love seeing this beautiful, naïve, innocent girl lose all control because of you. It's like you're sculpting every sensation, molding her pleasure to your will. And the fact that it's her first time only makes it more addictive.

“You sound so sexy, moaning in my ear while I fuck you… Tell me, Chae, do you want more?” you ask, your voice dirtier now, and she nods frantically, her eyes squeezed shut, her face flushed with both shame and excitement.

“Yes, please... don't stop!” she begs, her voice cracking as you continue to fuck her. “You fuck me so good!”

You pick up the pace, the sound of your bodies colliding echoing in the room. Your cock slides deep, as deep as you can go in this position, and she lets out a loud, desperate moan. “You like it like this, huh? Getting fucked hard, knowing how much I'm loving fucking this virgin pussy!”

Chae writhes beneath you, her moans growing louder, faster.

She’s losing herself, another orgasm is close.

And you’re going to take it from her.

“Now let’s lie on our side, princess,” you say with a final kiss.

You turn her over carefully. She obeys, her body already limp, fully surrendered to you. Now, you position yourself behind her, your bodies aligned, so close that you can feel every breath she takes, every nervous twitch.

“Yeah, like this, Chae…” you murmur in her ear, a filthy undertone hidden in the words. With one hand, you guide your cock back inside her, the tight, wet sensation making both of you moan at the same time. Your hand now slides slowly down her side, feeling the warmth of her sweaty skin, the uneven rhythm of her breathing.

“You like this, don’t you?” you tease, your voice low, as you continue to thrust slowly, each stroke deep and calculated. Chaeyoung responds with a loud moan, her eyes closed, head tilting back, resting on your shoulder.

“Y-yes, yes! I love it…” Her voice trembles with each word, as if the pleasure is making it difficult to even think. The raspy sound of every moan only spurs you to go deeper.

You kiss her slender shoulder, your hand moving up the curve of her waist to her breasts. Her skin is hot and slick with sweat, her entire body vibrating with the intensity of the experience. Your fingers squeeze one of her breasts, firm enough to elicit another moan from Chaeyoung, who begins to move, her hips pushing back against you, craving more.

“Ohhh, that feels so good! Harder…” she begs, almost breathless, her voice cracking with need. And you comply, the thrusts becoming faster, more intense, the rhythm of your bodies crashing together, primal and instinctive.

“You’re so tight, Chae… you’re driving me crazy…” you whisper, your mouth moving from her shoulder to her neck, sucking and nibbling softly as you keep thrusting deeply. She moans louder, her nails digging into the sheets.

“The first time… I never imagined it would be like this…” she murmurs between moans, her voice almost fading, as if she’s on the verge of losing her ability to speak. “It feels so good… so… Oh, you fuck me so well!”

You chuckle softly, satisfied. “You’ll remember your first fuck forever, Chae... You’ll remember how I made you come.”

And somehow, that ignites something inside her.

You feel Chae’s body start to writhe, her moans growing louder, more desperate. She’s close, you can tell. The hand that was on her breast now slides slowly down her body, and without warning, you grasp Chae’s slender neck, your fingers wrapping around it firmly, just enough to show her the control you have over her.

She gasps, her eyes widening in surprise, and her body responds immediately, arching against you, tightening around your cock. “You like this, don’t you, Chae?” your voice comes out hoarse, and she answers with a moan, the most primal sound you’ve ever heard.

“Y-yes, fuck!... yes, I… I love it!” She can barely form the words, her moans mixing with her ragged breaths. And it only makes you hungrier, more eager to push her beyond her limits.

You pick up the pace, thrusting harder, the sound of your bodies colliding echoing through the room, and you squeeze her neck a little tighter, feeling her shudder under your touch. “Tell me, baby… Tell me what you want.”

She’s panting, her whole body drenched in sweat, her eyes shut. “More… please… Fuck me faster… harder…” Her voice breaks between the pleas, her moans becoming nearly screams of pleasure. “Fuck my pussy good, make me your little slut!”

“Like this?” you ask, and before she can respond, you obey, pounding into her with even more intensity, your cock driving into her with such force that Chae’s body slams against you, nearly folding under the impact.

“Ahhh… yes! Like that! Fuck… keep going, don’t stop!” She’s losing herself, her body responding instinctively to the pleasure, and Chae’s face twists, her eyes rolling back as you fuck her relentlessly. “I-I’m yours, baby… all yours! Fuck me harder!”

You pull her body closer, your fingers still gripping her neck, controlling every movement as you continue to pound deep, without pause. “You’re becoming such a dirty little girl, Chae. A slut who loves my cock!”

She bites her lip hard, her eyes barely open enough to meet yours. “Yes! I’m… I’m your slut… please, don’t stop… make me come again!”

You fuck her even faster, your hand tightening on her neck, dominating her completely. Each thrust is harder, deeper, until her body starts to tremble again, her moans growing louder, more intense.

“You’re going to come again, aren’t you?” you murmur, your face close to her ear, your breath hot against her skin. “You love coming on my cock, don’t you, Chae? Such a dirty slut! I want to feel you come… now!”

And that pushes her over the edge.

Her body explodes against you, writhing, trembling, and she screams as the orgasm overtakes her. “Ahhh… fuck… I'm cumming … I'm… ahhh!” The pleasure ripples through her like an electric shock, her muscles squeezing your cock so tight you can barely hold back.

You keep fucking her as she comes, drawing out her orgasm, her moans oscillating between pleasure and despair. “Yeah, that’s it, Chae… come for me… come on my cock, baby.” And she does, her whole body shaking, completely surrendered to the pleasure you’ve taught her to feel, until the tremors slowly subside, and she’s completely spent, her body limp in your arms, breathing heavily.

But you’re not done yet.

You feel Chae’s body still trembling in your arms, but you don’t give her even a second to rest. You lift her from the bed with a near predatory strength, your arms wrapping around her slim, delicate waist, and in one firm motion, you hoist her into the air, her legs instinctively wrapping around you. The look on Chaeyoung’s face is a mix of surprise and pure lust, her pupils blown wide, her body molding to yours as you hold her aloft.

“You’re going to fuck me like this?” she asks, her voice shaky, almost disbelieving, but clearly begging for more.

“Yes, like this,” you reply with a lascivious smile, positioning her so your cock slips back inside her. Her weight only amplifies the intensity of each thrust, and the sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the room, mixed with Chae’s high-pitched moans and your heavy breathing. Her body rises and falls, her arms wrapped around your neck, her legs clinging tightly to your waist.

“You’re loving this, aren’t you?” you ask, your lips brushing her ear, your hot breath making her shiver. She’s completely vulnerable, surrendered, and the feeling of power only drives you deeper into this lust.

“Yes… yes… more…” Chaeyoung whispers between moans, nearly crying from the overwhelming pleasure. “It feels so good… please… don’t stop…”

The way she says it, with so much need, with so much desperation, only drives you further. You fuck her harder, the intensity of each thrust ripping short cries of pleasure from her. She can’t control the sounds escaping her throat, and you know she’s loving every second, loving the way she’s being taken by you, losing her virginity in a way she never imagined.

You fuck her mid-air with almost animalistic force, your hands firmly gripping her slender waist, guiding her movements. Your lips meet hers with urgency, a wet, clumsy, heated kiss. Her tongue searches for yours with desperate hunger, and you respond, exploring her mouth as you keep thrusting deep, each move making her moan louder than the last.

“Can you feel my cock being shoved deep into your tight little pussy?” you murmur between kisses, your voice low and hoarse, sweat dripping down your body as pleasure begins to blur into exhaustion.

“Yeah!! Please… don’t stop!” Chaeyoung practically begs, her voice thin, loaded with desire. Every word she speaks is a breathy gasp, her eyes half-closed like she’s lost in a storm of pleasure.

“Look at you... so submissive... clinging to me like your life depends on it,” you tease, nibbling her earlobe as you fuck her even harder. The sound of skin slapping against skin is loud, dirty, and her body moves wildly with each thrust.

“I-I love it! I love being yours!” Chae confesses, her eyes fully closed, her body trembling as you feel the spasms tightening around your cock. “Fuck me more... dominate me... use me however you want!”

Her filthy words make you lose any remaining control. Your mouth trails down her neck, sucking and biting hard enough to leave marks, to remind her later of how you claimed her that night.

“You want more? Want me to fuck you until you forget your own name?” you whisper against her sweaty skin.

“Yes, baby! Yes… I want it,” Chae moans, her lips trembling as pleasure overtakes her.

You feel the heat rising, the climax almost at the door, and in one quick, rough motion, you sit up on the bed, Chaeyoung on your lap. “Then ride me,” you command, your voice raspy and authoritative, locking eyes with her.

She hesitates for only a second before letting out a low moan and beginning to move. Her legs trembling, she adjusts herself on top of you, your cock slipping back inside her. Her hands rest on your shoulders as she starts to ride, her breathing heavy, each movement eliciting short, sharp moans.

“That’s it, like that! Faster, Chae,” you urge, your hands gripping her waist, helping her keep pace. Her body moves up and down, each motion driving you deeper inside her, each moan louder, more desperate. “You’re so fucking tight… so good… I won’t last much longer, baby,” you warn, your eyes narrowing as you watch her face contort with pleasure, her lips parted, eyebrows arched in pure ecstasy.

“I want you to cum…” Chae responds, her voice barely audible from how breathless she is. “Please cum for me… I want all your hot cum in me.”

You grip her slender waist tighter, your fingers digging into her warm, soft skin, guiding her firmly, demanding more.

“Come on, Chae, I’m almost there... Faster,” you command. “I want to feel you really fuck me.”

Chae bites her lip, her messy hair falling over her shoulders as she tries to speed up, her legs trembling with the effort. With every move, her body sinks deeper onto you, drawing sharp, desperate moans from her. Your fingers dig even harder into her waist, guiding her, controlling the rhythm, forcing her to go faster than her body was prepared for. She has no choice but to follow your lead, her entire body surrendering to this frenzy.

“Your pussy is so wet, Chae, fuck…” you groan through clenched teeth, pulling her closer until your bodies are pressed together. “Can you feel how hard you’re making me? How much horny you're driving me?!”

“I... I feel everything,” Chae responds between moans, her voice breaking from the overwhelming pleasure. “I can’t... I can’t stop... it feels so good...” She keeps grinding on top of you, her movements faster, more intense. Sweat drips down her body, shining under the soft light of the room, and you get lost in the sight of her - her face twisted in uncontrollable pleasure, her legs shaking as she struggles to keep up the pace.

Without warning, you lean forward and capture one of her small breasts in your mouth, sucking hard. The taste of her skin is salty with sweat, but addictive. You suck her nipple intensely, your tongue playing, teasing, while one hand moves to the other breast, squeezing, tugging, teasing the sensitive nipple.

“Oh, fuck!” Chae cries out, her body shuddering violently from the impact of your lips on her breasts. “Please... Please, don’t sto- Oh god! I love your mouth on my breast!!” She throws her head back, her hands digging into your shoulders as you keep her moving, riding faster than ever.

You suck harder, your teeth grazing lightly, making her moan even louder. Each thrust she makes over you brings you closer to the edge, and the feel of her trembling body, mixed with the taste and texture of her delicate skin, makes you lose all control. Your fingers keep gripping her hips, guiding her with a speed she can barely keep up with.

“Come on, Chae... faster... ride me hard!” you growl, your teeth still around her nipple, your eyes half-closed in pleasure.

“I... can’t...” she moans, her eyes filled with pleasure and desperation, but even so, she tries. Her hips rise and fall faster, her movements nearly frantic as she tries to push you over the edge.

“Yes, you can,” you whisper with a wicked smile, your hand sliding down her sweaty back to grab her ass, pulling her down hard each time she rises. “And you’re loving every second... look at you, so obedient... so submissive...”

“I am... I love it! Fuck, I never thought it would feel this good!” Chae can barely speak between moans, her body now practically convulsing with pleasure. “Fuck me... fuck me more, baby... please!”

You continue to suck her, switching breasts, leaving the other one equally sensitive and swollen, while your hands squeeze her ass.

“You’re going to cum again, aren’t you?” you tease, your tone cruel, feeling her on the verge of losing control.

“Yes... yes... I’m going to cum... again... I can’t take it anymore...” Chae cries out, her face contorted with pure pleasure, and you can feel the spasms starting to tighten around your cock. Each of her movements becomes uncoordinated, but that only brings you closer to your own climax. Her body contracts and explodes into a devastating orgasm, her moans loud and uncontrollable, her hips nearly frozen as she’s overtaken by the overwhelming pleasure.

You don’t stop, even as she trembles beneath you, her moans turning into sobs from the accumulated pleasure.

“You know what’s the best part?” you say between ragged breaths, your mouth close to her neck, kissing gently. “You’ll never forget this… how I made you cum so many times.”

Chaeyoung responds with a long moan, her body completely surrendered to you. “I know... I want you to fuck me like this... every day.”

You continue to move her hips slowly, as she’s too weak to do it herself. Each thrust inside her takes you closer, the tight heat of Chae’s body making you lose control. “I’m almost there... where do you want me to cum, Chae?

She hesitates for a second, then timidly murmurs, “On my face, sweetie.. please, cum on my face.”

The way she says it, with that soft, almost innocent voice, is enough to push you to the edge. You feel the lust explode inside you, and the image of Chae’s delicate face covered in your thick cum only heightens your desire.

“Fuck, baby, you're such a naughty girl,” you tease, your voice deep, filthy, as you keep moving her trembling body against yours. “You want me to cum all over your pretty little face, huh?”

Chaeyoung just nods, unable to form words, her moans now almost whispers. “Yes, baby, please... please...” She’s nearly crying from so much pleasure, her body completely at your mercy.

“Then get on your knees for me. I’m gonna cover your face with my thick load.”

Chaeyoung slowly slides off your lap, carefully kneeling on the floor, still trying to regain control of her trembling legs. Her eyes are fixed on you, wide and full of anticipation.

You take off the condom, your breathing fast and uneven, and she immediately wraps her lips around your cock, sucking with such intensity that it almost makes you lose balance. Her taste is still on your dick, and she seems to savor it, her eyes closed, her tongue’s movements deliberate, slow.

“Suck more… Yeah, just like that, baby,” you groan, your fingers tangled in her hair, guiding her as she obeys, sucking with an almost insatiable hunger.

You feel your climax approaching, control slipping away with each passing second. Chae's body is kneeling in front of you, her wide eyes full of anticipation, fixed on you as if she's ready to receive something precious. Her chest rises and falls quickly, her breath heavy, mingled with the palpable excitement in the air. You can’t hold back any longer.

"Are you ready, Chae?" you ask, your voice hoarse, your body trembling with tension as you grip your cock, holding it tight at the base.

She nods quickly, her eyes shining with desire. "Yes... yes... I want your cum on my face." Her voice carries a shy, exciting tone, and it only makes your need grow. You start jerking yourself harder, your cock throbbing in your hand. "Cover my face with your hot cum, baby!"

Those dirty words, spilling from such a delicate mouth, make your cock twitch in anticipation. "Fuck, I'm so horny!!" you growl, holding the base of your cock and pointing it directly at her face.

"Yes... make me filthy... I've always wanted to feel this," Chaeyoung replies.

You can’t hold back anymore. "Fuck, I’m cumming, Chae!" you say through gritted teeth as the pleasure builds to a breaking point.

She can only whisper, "Yeah, please, cum-" before the first spurt hits her cheek directly. Chae gasps, but doesn’t look away. Your fingers continue moving quickly at the base of your cock, another thick shot hitting her other cheek, chin, and a little bit of her forehead.

“Oooh! Yeeaah! Mmm, that’s so fucking good,” you moan, overcome with pleasure. "You look so beautiful covered in my cum,” you groan. “I knew you’d love this… look at you, all messy.”

Holding the base of your still hard, throbbing cock, you guide it toward Chae’s face. Her body is completely surrendered, panting, her eyes half-closed, a lazy smile of satisfaction forming on her lips.

“Look at me,” you command, as the tip of your cock touches her cheek, spreading the remnants of your cum across her delicate skin. Chaeyoung obeys, lifting her face with a gaze filled with adoration and bliss. You begin brushing your cock against her face, slowly, savoring the warm, sticky sensation.

The remaining cum smears and glistens on her skin under the soft bedroom light. First her cheek, then you move to her mouth, tapping your cock lightly against her lips. Without hesitation, she opens her mouth slightly, running her tongue lightly over the tip. Just seeing her, dirty and submissive, sends another wave of pleasure through your body.

“Tell me how much you're enjoying this,” you tease, the tip of your cock tracing her chin, spreading your cum over every inch it can reach.

Chaeyoung only moans, a low, satisfied sound, moving her face to meet each brush of your cock as if wanting more. “I'm… loving it,” she murmurs, her voice broken with desire, eyes closing again as your cock glides over her forehead, leaving a trail of cum. “I love being yours… your dirty little slut.”

“This is what you wanted? To be like this, all marked by me?” you ask with a wicked smile, leaning forward to rub your cock against the tip of her nose, dirtying her even more.

“Yes...” Chaeyoung whispers, her tongue trying to reach the head of your cock again. “You're making me feel so slutty.”

The way she speaks, the devotion in her voice, just makes you want to keep going. You cover her completely, your cock painting her face with cum, the sides of her mouth, her eyes, everywhere. And each time you touch her, Chaeyoung seems to enjoy it even more, her eyes closed, as if she’s in pure ecstasy from being covered in your cum.

Chae licks her lips, savoring what’s left of your cum, her gaze locked on you, more lustful than ever. “I want more, baby…” she whispers, her shy tone now replaced by something more primal. She leans forward, and without hesitation, closes her lips around the head of your cock again, sucking with a pressure that makes you see stars.

“Fuck, Chae! Fuck…” you moan loudly, your body arching involuntarily as she sucks slowly, each of her movements intentional, prolonging your pleasure as the last spasms of orgasm ripple through you. She plays with her tongue around the head, exploring, savoring, while her hands softly caress your balls.

“Your cock tastes so good,” Chaeyoung murmurs, and then her lips press back against your cock. “I like making you lose control like this,” she says with a small smile.

She gives another slow lick before releasing your cock with a wet pop, her eyes rising to meet yours, her cheeks and chin still gleaming with your cum. You can hardly believe the sight before you: Chaeyoung, your awkward workmate, covered in your cum, satisfied, with a new confidence shining through her former shyness.

“Wow, Chae… you're beautiful like this… Seriously, so beautiful,” you say breathlessly, the words escaping as an admiring whisper.

Chae lowers her eyes, a small, embarrassed smile playing on her lips, but there's pride in the way she wipes the corner of her mouth with her hand. “D-did I do it right?” she asks softly.

“Fuck, you have no idea.”

—

The hot water falls like a liquid curtain, each drop seems to soften the moment, making your touch even more intimate. You're gently soaping her shoulder with a tenderness that can only come from that strange mix of desire and affection now hanging between you. Chaeyoung is quiet, which, you note with some surprise, is a rarity. Maybe she's still processing what just happened. You decide to break the silence because, frankly, the idea of stillness while sharing the same space with her feels strange.

“So... was it everything you expected?”

She lifts her head, blinking as if she's just emerged from a dream. And in a way, you think that's exactly what's happening. A slow, wide smile spreads across her face. “It was better ,” she says, with a restrained enthusiasm that would melt anyone's heart. “I... I never thought it'd be like this. I mean, I always imagined it would be good, but not this good.” She giggles, a giggle that starts shy but bursts into full laughter. “You're really perfect!”

This word again.

You feel the blush rise to your face, and it's not just from the hot steam. Perfect is too strong of a word for you; Honestly, it's too strong of a word for anyone. "Me? Perfect? I don't know if I'd say that.”

She hugs you suddenly, her wet arms wrapping tightly around your chest, as if she's making sure you won't disappear like a soap bubble. “I'm serious,” she murmurs against your skin, her voice muffled but full of sincerity. “The way you made me feel... I never... never imagined it. Three times, do you know? How is that even possible?” She laughs again, this time with a slightly mischievous glitter in her eyes. “It was so intense. But now, you're being so gentle with me. You're not just amazing in bed, you're amazing outside of it too.”

The mention of “three times” makes you smile.

Okay, you're a little proud, not going to lie.

But what strikes you the most is the way she talks about you, like you're some kind of medieval knight who rescued not a damsel in distress, but a damsel who didn't even realize she was venturing into unknown territory.

“I just wanted you to feel good,” you say, not really sure where to put your hands, despite them being occupied with her. “And I also... felt really good, Chaeyoung. It was special.”

She looks at you with those big eyes, as if the whole world is contained within the four walls of the bathroom. “I feel so lucky to have found you,” she says, her tone pure reverence. “It's so perfect it feels like a dream. I guess that's why I feel this need to hug you, to make sure you're real."

“Someone like me? Chaeyoung, you're amazing... And adorable. I'm nothing like that, I'm just a man.” She makes a doubtful face, but you continue. “I mean it. You have this... this thing that no one else has. You're genuine, do you know? No filters. It's rare to find someone like that. I'm the lucky one to have you here with me.”

She blushes, the steam from the shower intensifying the pink glow on her cheeks. “Do you really think that?”

“Absolutely,” you reply, without hesitation. “You know, maybe it took me a while to realize it... but yeah.”

She smiles shyly, that smile that suggests a mix of insecurity and hope. “I... I know I'm a bit weird. But I'm so happy that you like me like this, that you are not ashamed of me. I w-want to be with you.. I want to be with you forever!”

And it's at that moment that you feel the weight of those words.

Forever.

You know how amazing emotional that sounds. The idea of "forever" should make you back away, fill you with panic. But... it doesn't. Strangely, you don't feel that natural and immediate urge to run when a girl you barely know says something like that.

You look at her and, in that instant, accomplish something. Maybe that stupid prank your friends pulled on you dragged you into something you would've never chosen on your own. But, and here's the irony of fate, now it doesn't seem like a bad thing. Maybe, behind all the laughter and the initial confusion, something genuinely good has emerged.

You smile at her, a smile that starts light but turns into something bigger, something real. “You know, Chaeyoung... I think this whole thing... this mess... maybe it's the best thing that's happened to me in a long time.”

She blinks, a little confused, but the smile never leaves her face. “What? What mess?”

You laugh, this time with genuine lightness. Of course, she has no idea what you're talking about. “It's hard to explain. But you... I think you're exactly what I needed.”

“We're like... you know what?" She leans in to give you a kiss. "Like ice cream and fries!"

You raise an eyebrow.

“Ice cream and fries?”

She nods enthusiastically. “Yes! Two things you wouldn't think go together, but when they do... it's perfect. Sweet and salty. Hot and cold. Like us.”

“Ice cream and fries, huh? I guess it makes sense... in a very Chaeyoung way of seeing things.”

“Exactly!” She pulls back a bit to look at you, her face lit up by a smile. “Maybe some people would say we're an unusual couple. But you know what's unusual? It's that these strange combinations end up being the best ones.”

Now you lean in, kissing her lightly on the lips. “You know what? That makes total sense.”

When you finally leave the bathroom and get dressed, the rain outside still taps against the window, rhythmic, like a reminder that the world keeps spinning. Chaeyoung puts on her pajamas - the ones she brought to "take care" of you - and, with a satisfied expression, throws herself onto the bed with a carefree joy.

You sit beside her, admiring her for a moment.

“Now,” she says, with that sudden excitement you're starting to recognize as her trademark, “we should watch Garfield! After all, you promised, remember?”

You chuckled, shaking your head.

Of course she'd remember.

“Alright. Let's watch Garfield.”

[chxrryhansen]

𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐌𝐁 𝐀𝐔

Pairing; Dark!Club Owner Ari x Shy!Reader

Warnings; dark themes, unbalanced power dynamic, daddy kink, no smut in this part but as usual Minors Please DNI!!

Summary; You knew it was a bad idea showing up to the most notorious club in the city, but it’s your best friend’s birthday and you can’t say no, right? So, what happens when the owner himself, Ari Levinson, spots you at the bar, claiming you as his own from the moment he laid eyes on you.

It’s finally here! The first instalment of my very first series, apologies for no smut but i promise the next part will be very smutty to make up for it 👀 bare in mind this is just the introduction!!! please don’t be afraid to ask questions and remember to reblog and comment💗 i love to hear your guys feedback!

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐

You climb out of the uber, reaching to pull the hem of your dress down as you and your friends stumble towards the club.

You had finally agreed to try out the biggest club in the city, "Cherry Bomb.” Since it was your best friend Sarah's birthday your group decided it was only fair she could choose which clubs you were going to tour for the night. You had been putting it off ever since the opening night a few months ago, the reputation not being something you had particularly wished to be involved with.

All you knew was bad things happened there, and from what you had heard the owners, Ari Levinson and Lloyd Hansen, two brothers in arms, were so cruel and unforgiving that even the richest men in the city dared not to step foot in the place, and those who did shortly regretted it. Their names were known around the streets, the most notorious club owners to exist, 70% of clubs in the city all belonging to them, more money under their belt than the government itself.

An incident a few weeks back had became the talk of the town, according to Sarah a well known patron had gotten a little handsy with one of the clubs dancers and when he was given a warning to back off, he refused. Claiming he spent enough money in the club grounds to do as he pleased, including groping innocent dancers without permission.

Long story short the bouncers ended up forcibly removing the man, cussing and struggling on his way out of course, you know, the usual druken male rage and feeling of entitlement. Seemed like a pretty convenient coincidense that the exact same night the man was found beaten to a bloody pulp in a back alley, his face practically unrecognisible.

It wasn't long before the 'rumour' was quickly snuffed out. They were good at that, making things.. people, dissapear. Almost as if it never happened... as if they never exhisted.

Now that you were standing infront of it, you couldn't deny, it was beautiful. Even from the outside, the bright neon sign glowing in the moonlight, multiple bouncers blocking the large glass stained doors, making sure to check each persons id before unhooking the stanchion, allowing said persons entry. The queue seeming endless.

Lucky for you, your friends had been gifted VIP tickets, you didn't even bother to ask who they got those from, or how. You didn't want to know. You flashed your id at the pretty bouncer, his buzzed hair, large muscles and stern face making it quite obvious as to why he had the job he did.

You bounced your foot as he scanned over your card before opening the barrier and letting you inside. Sarah was quick to grip each of your hands, practically dragging you inside once you began to hesitate, not wanting you to change your mind so soon.

"Come on, babe, let's get those sweet legs moving!" Sarah hollers from ahead, her hand intertwined with your own as the rest of the girls hurried towards a booth.

"I-I don't know if this is a good idea, Sare.." you mumbled, fiddling with your fingers as she tugged you towards your friends and giving you a slight nudge into the cushioned seats, the red velvet material instantly soothing your hot thighs as you sat.

She reached down, holding your cheeks in both hands and facing you towards herself, sliding into the booth next to you "Listen, i know you're worried and if it makes you feel better i promise we can leave and go somewhere else, but just give it a try, please...for me?" she pleaded, giving you her famous puppy dog eyes.

"You know i can't resist that face." you whined as she cheered.

As you slowly got more drunk you began to forget why you didn't want to visit. The atmosphere was astronomical, the whole club being fit for royalty. The girls hooted and hollered as you trotted off towards the bar on your way to buy in a round of drinks. You waited at the bar with your card in hand but as you went to hand it over to the bartender he paused you.

“It’s on the house.” he says while he wipes down the bar with a rag, a smile on his face. He was handsome in all fairness, standing at around 6'2, his bright blonde locks and pretty blue eyes causing you to pause for a moment before giving him a puzzled look, tilting your head sideways.

“Is it a nightly special or something? I didn’t see anything about free drinks on the poster outside…” you begin yet he’s already scuttling off to take another couples order, shooting you a sly smile over his shoulder. Leaving you even more confused than before.

You slowly reach for the tray of shots when you feel a large hand on your shoulder, causing you to spin around in shock, ready to fight off any unwanted men. You pause yet again, having to look up to catch the mans face.

His 6’5 form towers over your much smaller figure, dressed in a dark purple suit and tie, his pearly blues shining in the colourful strobe lights, looking down at you with a slight smirk. His dark beard covered most of his face and his long curtains framed his godly sculpted face. Even with his suit on his arms bulged through the material, his thick biceps almost bigger than your head.

You shortly snapped out of your daze as his leather gloved hand squeezed your arm. “C-Can i help you, sir?” you stammered, worried incase you had been caught gauking.

He laughs “Not even a thankyou, Sweetheart? I thought you’d have better manners than that.” he teases, his rough voice sending shivers down your spine. You stutter as you try to find your words, seeming as they were lodged in the back of your throat.

“I’m kidding, name’s Ari…you gonna’ give me the curtesy of knowing yours or you just gonna’ keep starin’ at me with those pretty eyes?”

“A-Ari as in… Levinson?” you question, swallowing harshly as the nerves quickly built in your stomach.

He shakes his head gently with a smirk "So you know me, huh?"

Your eyes widen at the realisation of who the mystery man is, your arms instantly beginning to shake, your card still in hand. You were never good at dealing with situations such as this one, always being labled as the 'shy girl' of your group. Sarah being the complete opposite. Usually men in this situation would back off, sensing your uncomfortable trembles and leaving you alone, but not Ari. If anything the smirk on his face grew wider at the sense of your fear.

"Steve, why don't you head over to booth two, give the girls their shots." Ari calls out towards the handsome bartender from earlier.

The man, Steve, is at your side in an instant "No prob man, have fun you two." he winks, collecting the glasses and sauntering off with a wink.

Ari shakes his head with a laugh, “Why don’t you come with me.” he leans down to whisper in your ear. The vibration of his vocals in your ears sending shivers down your spine before he struts forwards, holding out his thick palm for you to grab on to, and almost as if your in a trance, you begin to trail behind him without hesitation. Sliding your smaller palm into his own as he led you through the club.

Your nerves never allowed you to talk much, or make your own decisions, that being the reason you followed the stranger without any question asked, which is exactly why Sare was usually always there to do it for you. But, your drunken confidence had allowed you to go to the bar alone, which you were beginning to really regret. Your confidence being blown out of the park as the attractive beast watched you from infront with a careful eye.

Shortly you arried at the unknown destination, trailing nervously behind Ari as he unlocked a large door, which was infact bolted shut. He pushed open the door, looking down at you, edging you to enter, and so you did. Your eyes lit up as they searched the vast room, expensive furnature lining the room, bottles of champagne worth more than your house filling the cupboards above his desk.

Ari pushed the door closed, moving to sit on a cushioned purple chair, his thick thighs spread wide as he removed his gloves, pouring himself, and you, a glass of his finest drink. His cold eyes beckoned you forwards, your legs shaking as you stepped towards him, standing inbetween his spread legs.

He patted his thigh with one hand "Sit." he called out, his voice sweet yet stern.

You looked at him shocked, your lips parting slightly, were you really going to sit on his lap? A man you just met? Who you didn't even know? "I-I don't think i should Mr Levinson." you whispered.

His eyes grew shades darker at your refusal, not even giving you time to debate your decisions he reached out, gripping your waist in his thick palm and pulling you down, sitting you sideways on his lap as you gasp in shock. His other hand pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear as you squirmed under the pressure.

"Pretty girl, next time i ask you to do something, you do it. No questions asked. You understand?" he asked in a low growl.

You swallowed your nerves and nodded gently under his deep gaze, your body trembling.

"Ah ah, words baby."

"Yes, M-Mr Levinson, I-I understand."

Ari groaned underneath his breath, not understanding how lucky he had gotten that a pretty little thing like you would just waltse right in at the perfect moment, almost as if you were made for him. Like a lamb in a lions den. "As much as i love the way you say my name, call me Ari, sweet girl."

Again, you followed his command. "Yes, Ari."

"Good girl." he rumbled, pulling your bottom lip gently inbetween his index and thumb, loving the way you felt on his lap. Your innocence and submissive nature automatically triggering his dominance, his cock growing hard in his slacks as your plump ass squirmed on his knee.

You keened at his praise, a fluttery feeling appearing in your lower half. Of course Ari noticed this, the way your pussy pulsated on his thigh told him all he needed to know.

"You ever been with a man before, sweetheart?" Ari asks while he strokes your hair, not even having to shout due to the soundproof room blocking out the clubs music.

"Um, n-no i haven't, my Grandma wouldn't really approve of that sort of stuff, she said i should wait till m-marriage." you whisper shyly.

Ari blows out a puff of air at your innocence, desperately trying to control himself. All he wants is to ruin you, in every way you can imagine, and more. He smirks, leaning into your shoulder, pressing his nose against your sensitive neck and taking a deep inhale. Groaning softly, your sweet scent driving his instincts wild.

"Your Grandma seems like a very smart lady, little girl. You live with just her, huh?"

"Yeah, i never really knew my m-mom and dad, and my grandpa died shorly after i was born s-so it's pretty much always just been me and her. She does her best to take care of me, taught me everything i know." you speak with a bright smile, Ari notices how your stutter stopped when talking about her, he thought it was sweet, how much you must care about her.

However, the dark side of his mind was quick to take a seat, the realisation that you never had a father figure making his cock impossibly harder. Knowing he could be that for you, and knowing you needed a strong man like him in your life to make all those decisions for you.

"I think i changed my mind, baby. Why don't you call me daddy from now on, mkay?" he spoke softly, yet the edge in his tone still clear.

"D-Daddy?" you muttered, confused as to why he would want you to call him that.

He moaned hearing your sweet voice call him by his new found title. Taking a deep breath, he sighed, choosing not to elaborate on his previous statement. "Good girl. I'm gonna' take care of you from now on, yeah? Anything you need, you come to me. Pass me your phone, sweet girl."

"Oh, i-i don't have a phone.. daddy."

Ari's eyebrows knit together softly "You don't have a phone? Why not?"

You shake your head, your cheeks flushing in embarrassment. "We uhm, w-we can't really afford that sort of stuff."

"Well that just won't do." he speaks in a teasing tone, tickling your waist making you giggle softly.

Suddenly a loud bang causes you to shoot upright, you quickly dash off Ari's lap, moving to stand away from him, his office door slamming shut as a tall moustached man enters. Your eyes widen in fright, knowing how violent the man standing infront of you truly was. You knew who he was too, Sare had told you plenty of stories about the cruel Lloyd Hansen. You often wondered if he even had a soul.

"Man it's fuckin' packed down there, what the fuck are you doing up here." the man groans, not even noticing you until he turns. He lifts his sunglasses, staring you down, his eyes scanning over your figure, pausing and licking his lips at the soft flesh beneath the cut of your dress, your pretty pink dress having ridden up your thighs.

"Lloyd." Ari bellows, sighing in annoyance at his disruption.

A smirk similar to Ari's appears on the man, Lloyd's, face. "Well, well, well. What do we have here?" he speaks in a sultry voice. He begins his descent in your direction and the second gets a little too close, Ari shoots up out of his seat, moving to stand infront of you. A low rumble vibrating through his chest.

Ari stood slightly taller than Lloyd, with broader shoulders and thicker legs, the muscles in his back visible as he stood infront of you, almost as if he was protecting you, a hand wrapped around your hips rubbing his thumb in circular motions over your dress….and of course the most important detail, his luscious full beard compared to Lloyds 90s porn stache. They stared each other down, asserting some sort of dominance over one another… Ari seemingly winning as Lloyd begins to back up.

He lets out a chuckle, lifting his hands in a surrender position, taking a few steps back. "I mean no harm, just wanna' ask the pretty girl for her name, s'all."

You begin to quiver yet again, Lloyd's presence scaring you back into your shell. His dangerous aura sending goosebumps across your trembling figure. "I-I think i sh-should go." you whisper, tugging at the hem of your dress in a desperate attempt to calm your nerves.

"Don't move, sweets. Lloyd. Get the fuck out of here man." Ari bellows.

“I think you’ll find this club is mine just as much as it is yours, big bro. C’mon. Introduce me to the beauty.” he chucked yet again, probably at Ari’s fury. Steam was practically pouring out of his ears at this point. He didn’t even want Lloyd looking at you, nevermind talking to you.

“I mean it Lloyd get the fuck outta’ here man-“

Before he can stop you, you make a quick dash for the door and at the sound of Ari's resistance your legs carry you quicker than you could've ever imagined. Not looking back once as you pull the door open, swiftly shutting the door behind you.

You take a deep, your chest heaving at the stress of the situation, wiping your sweaty hands on your dress and making your descent down the club stairs, shaking your head in confusion and fear, eager to find your friends, craving their comfort and hearing a hushed "You fuckin' asshole." in the distance.

[berrryparfait]

sweet, sweet dessert ⋆୨୧˚

❥ req by: @sadfragilegirl | prompt

— ༉‧₊ᐟ featuring: xavier x fem-afab!reader

— ༉‧₊ᐟ premise: the food is delectable, the ambience serene. your first date with xavier is going perfectly—so much so that you just might decide to grab dessert on the way home instead. 「you're taking me to new places...」

— ༉‧₊ᐟ tags/cws: [nsfw] fluff and smut, wholesome dinner date, not-so-wholesome car sex, reader realizes she's falling in love

— ༉‧₊ᐟ word count: 1.6k

— ♫₊ᐟ soundtrack: touch – keshi

✧ a/n: sorry this took a while! i loved this prompt so much i wanted to make sure i did it justice XD

Everything about tonight is perfect.

Soft, jazzy music plays in the background, their sensual symphony occasionally interrupted by the soft clinking of champagne flutes and idle chatter between lovers. Everyone here is dressed to the nines, including you.

You take a seat opposite your date, fanning the underside of your dress out elegantly and trying not to let your nerves get the best of you. Your heart is pounding so loudly you’re afraid he can hear it—afraid he’ll figure out he’s the cause of your anxiety. How could he not be? He looks undeniably gorgeous in that finely-pressed suit, his hair styled neatly and his skin almost glowing in the warm candlelight.

But the gentle expression on his face reassures you. You notice the way his eyes light up when you sit down across him, and it calms you. “You look beautiful,” he remarks shyly, and you reply with a simple thanks.

Is this what a date between two introverts looks like?

You tell yourself to stop freaking out and enjoy the evening. After all, how many times in your life will you get to dine at a fancy place like this, with a genuinely good guy like him?

“I took the liberty of asking the chef to prepare his finest, no specifics included. I hope that’s okay with you.” He looks away then, a sheepish blush spreading across his face.

“Of course. I love food surprises,” you giggle. Was that weird?

Xavier smiles at the sound of your laugh, and your breath catches in your throat. God, he’s so sexy. “Me too. I also sleep a lot, if we’re revealing fun facts about ourselves.”

You laugh at his “fun fact”, relieved. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for a deep sleeper.” A lie. He looks sleepy already. But not in a way that implies he’s bored—more so that he missed his daily afternoon nap. “My turn. I think you’re very charming, Xavier.” It’s a bold statement, bolder than you would’ve tried with any other guy.

But he makes you feel safe, somehow. He’s not like the others. It’s a strange feeling; you’ve barely known each other a week and you already trust him with your life.

He blushes furiously, smirking. That was a really hot smirk. “I think you’re quite charming yourself, <y/n>.”

Suddenly, the temperature in the room skyrockets. The air has shifted—at least from your point of view. All this flirtation has escalated things from zero to a hundred, and you’re shocked—maybe even scandalized—by the thoughts that materialize in your head. Slow down, you ravenous slut. The guy doesn’t even know your favorite color!

You decide to shove those thoughts aside for later tonight. This is your first date, for goodness sake. Why are you thinking about his—

“Where do you work?” he interrupts your train of thought, a favor you’ll have to repay him.

The two of you fall deep into possibly the best conversation you’ve ever had, switching from topics like movies to siblings and music to lifelong dreams. He’s an incredibly insightful person, yet he never speaks out of turn and waits patiently while you fumble for the right words. He’s a great listener.

It turns you on.

I’m a horrible person, you think to yourself, berating your cycle for ringing in ovulation week now. “Are you alright?” he asks, mildly concerned.

Fuck, he noticed you zoning out. “Yeah, of course! Sorry, you were saying?”

That little smirk again. “I asked if you wanted to get dessert.”

“I never say no to dessert.”

“Shall we drive out?”

…

You step into the passenger’s seat of his car and try your best not to gape. It’s the most beautiful car you’ve ever seen, maybe, all smooth surfaces and shiny metal plates. He climbs in next to you after shutting your door, and instantly you’re consumed by his scent; pine leaves and fresh herbs. It leaves you feeling thick and heady and pools right in your core.

Stop. Thinking. About. It.

“Ready?” He starts the engine and waits for your cue.

You nod, unable to form words. Think about dessert. Strawberry shortcake. Crème brûlée. Lemon sherbert. It works for a while, before you notice the thin veins on his hands and the way his side profile looks in the dim moonlight.

This is the most painful drive ever. “Where are we going?” you ask, hoping for a distraction.

“There’s this really good ice cream place not far from here. I was thinking I could drop you home after.”

“That sounds great. Thanks.”

You sit in silence for the next fifteen minutes, watching the trees pass as he expertly navigates his way through the darkness. You aren’t exactly in the most accessible of areas right now, driving from one town to another and all.

He slows down then, staring at his GPS. A crease appears between his brows. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to park in this corner for a little while to check if we’re going in the right direction. This GPS can be faulty at times.”

If it were anyone else, your suspicions would’ve been raised. But Xavier has a way of making you feel completely at ease. You know in your heart that he wouldn’t try anything on you. Besides, you told a bunch of your friends about your date tonight, and they know who to call if anything were to happen to you.

As he fiddles with the GPS, pushing all these little buttons you would’ve had no idea how to work out, you attempt to avert your gaze from his slender fingers and that annoyingly seductive scent. It doesn’t work this time. Thoughts of dessert can only get you so far when there’s a whole dish sitting right next to you.

On an impulse, you do something you would’ve never done before tonight. You lean in close and gently kiss him on the corner of his mouth.

It’s a small peck, but his eyes go wide. He straightens and looks at your lips, struggling to even speak. “I—You—”

“Shhh…” you whisper, suddenly feeling brave. You stretch over the gear stick to plant another kiss underneath his eye, then one on his cheek. You’re in an uncomfortable position right now, back arched across two seats with your ass up facing the foggy window, but you don’t care. You’re so turned on right now he’s all you can think about.

He doesn’t pull away from your advances, instead slowly running his hands around your waist to guide you onto his lap. Every few seconds, a car zooms past. It’s exhilarating.

You settle inches away from his groin, placing your elbows on his shoulders and your hands on the back of his seat. When your lips meet, sparks explode from your chest, and your brain is flooded with him. The way his lips taste—feel. The warmth growing between your legs.

He kisses you back eagerly, his breath against your lips as he mutters, “What…about…dessert…”

“Fuck dessert… Later…” You grind against him, and he whines at the sensation. He’s hard as a rock, and he knows it.

Fucking on the first date? Why the hell not.

You reach for his belt, but he gets there first. He fumbles a little, too engrossed in your kisses, but he pulls it free with a single, devastatingly sexy tug.

Your hands grasp at his zipper and boxers next, and with one fluid movement his hard length is exposed to you. Fuck, he’s big. You clench at the sight of him, your clit throbbing.

Realizing that precious time is being wasted, you lift yourself up on your knees and pull your dress up to your waist. He pulls your wet panties to the side, drowning in the sight of your dripping pussy mere inches from his tip.

You slide onto him, feeling the length of his cock rub against your walls for the first time. It’s too much—the pressure, the friction. He throws his head back in pleasure, eyes squeezing shut as you clench around him.

Slowly, you begin to bounce on his dick, your moans echoing within the car as every pump sends your mind into a thoughtless spiral. His thumbs are digging into your waist, his fingers around your ass. “Fuck— You’re so—tight—” he bites out, his breaths belabored and strangled. He pushes the neckline of your dress down, freeing you tits and letting them bounce in his face.

It’s overwhelming. The feeling of your clit hitting the hard plane of his stomach. His tip planting wet kisses on the back of your cervix. The wet noises and vulgar squelches permeating the air. His cock pounding against your g-spot. The thought of you fucking a guy you just met in his car.

A guy you may or may not be falling in love with.

“I’m going to cum— I’m—” You both come undone at the same time, warm spurts of cum filling you up as you shake uncontrollably in his grip, your mind completely blank save for the blinding intensity of your first orgasm in ages.

When you’ve slid back into your seat, cum still dripping from your pulsating cunt, you’re both utterly exhausted. He’s the first to recover, his pants growing softer as he reaches for a blanket in the back seat and drapes it over your body. “Do you…need anything?”

You smile at him wearily, a warm glow emanating from every inch of you. He’s so sweet.

“I’d really like some dessert.”

— ⋆˙⟡ ©berrryparfait

《 please do not copy / plagiarize / translate my works or publish them on any other platforms. 》

[planetveensz]

RETRIBUTION — vi (arcane)

— you are pitfighter!vi’s newest devistating lesbian situationship. tw: fem!r, angst, sapphic longing, sapphic heartbreak, mentions of drinking/alcohol/being drunk, mentions of sex (mdni 18+), lowercase intended i'm a sadboy rn, wk 1.4k, art cred an: act two hurt me bad guys, had to take a breath and sit down to write out my feelings. please send any trauma response ideas or otherwise if you have them, i needa write this pain out fr. (i listened to vampire empire by big theif while writing this)

you’re jerked from sleep by a loud pounding behind your door.

blood turning to ice, a trickle of fear runs down your spine as your heartbeat picks up. the banging begins again, a loud rapping so violent you imagine the wood of your door bending from its force. you slide out of bed as quietly as you can; avoiding the weak, creaking spots on your floor.

you pick up the bat placed next to the threshold of your front door, fingers sliding up the handle as you inch towards the door knob. there are another three booming knocks that make you jump back with a small ‘eep!’ before gaining up the courage to rip the door open. other hand reaching to grip the bat handle, you raise it above your head, prepared to strike.

you don’t.

violet wobbles in your doorframe, a sly smile creeping on her lips when she sees your vicious state. “hey, sweetheart,” she croons, stumbling to the side and barely catching herself on the trim of your entryway.

great. she’s belligerent.

“vi,” you say her name like a statement, “what are you doing here?”

you met vi months ago, amidst the beginning of her winning streak in the pit. she spotted you on the dancefloor adjacent to the bar she frequented after her fights. she’d approached you with one thing in mind. the sex was amazing, passionate and fiery, it would have been perfect if she didn’t keep calling you by someone else's name.

“‘cmon, sweetie, don’ be like that,” she slurs, “i missed you.” you roll your eyes, but can’t help the fond smile that responds to her words. you'd kept seeing her after that first night despite every red flag, showing up at her matches just so that she could find you again. you cherished every drunken night with her.

you knew what you were doing was going to get you hurt in the end, but you supposed you just didn't care. and it wasn’t just the sex, there was something else about her that you couldn’t ignore.

among the moments of intense lust, you saw her for what she truly was. lonely. broken, sad. kind.

rubbing at your forehead, you sigh, then step aside so that she can make her way into your apartment. “i thought you said we couldn’t see each other anymore.” you tell her, manipulating your voice into a teasing lilt, but silently begging her to say what you wanted to hear. she slips past you and inside your home like she has dozens of times before.

“you know that was bullshit,” she laughs drunkenly, “i can’t stay away from you.” she says it matter-a-factly, like it is something well-known and studied. you scoff, disbelief sinking into your gut.

some nights when you ended up together, long after you first entangled, instead of sex, you would listen to her drunken rambling. while you attempted to feed her grilled cheese sandwiches and water to soak up the alcohol in her stomach, she would reveal things to you that stunned you into silence.

her father, her sister, mylo and claggor. silco, the lanes, her time in stillwater, she told you all of it. when her name — caitlyn’s name — first tumbled out of her mouth, you nearly vomited. that is what she had been calling you the first few times you hooked up. “caitlyn,” she’d whisper it into your collarbone, murmur it against your breast.

you couldn’t see her for a couple weeks after that revelation, avoiding the bar, the pit, wallowing in your self-pity. it didn’t last long. she’d shown up, much like this, begging for you to tell her what she’d done wrong. tears streaming down her cheeks as she sunk to her knees in front of you.

you just couldn’t abandon her after that night, no matter what she did. it didn’t matter anymore what she’d call you or what she wanted from you, the empathy you had for this suffering person overtook any self-preserving thoughts you had.

she was going to break your heart. you accepted it.

vi flops onto your beaten couch, laying her arms along the cushions and tipping her head back until she’s staring at your ceiling. the last time she was here it was more than three weeks ago, the longest you’d gone without her since you met her. she’d told you that she couldn’t see you any longer; your time with her was up.

you guessed it had something to do with how close you two had gotten, emotionally. not only were you discovering every way to make each other shiver in bed, you were also exploring each other's deepest thoughts and highest dreams.

your heart races in your chest as you settle yourself next to her on the couch. she lazily turns her head to set her eyes on you, the glimmering gray of her irises makes every emotion for her you’ve tried to dissolve come flooding back. “you’re so pretty,” she whispers.

you immediately feel sick, wondering if she’s having another hallucination of caitlyn. how had you gotten into this mess, fallen so deeply into the chasm that is violet’s grasp? you turn your head away from her, resting your cheek on your shoulder while you contemplate your next move.

she says your name, your name, with such clarity it shocks you. you whip your head back around to see her leaning forward, looking at you with a sobriety you haven’t seen from her before. then she kisses you.

you melt into it, allowing her to pull you against her, on top of her lap and into her arms. you sigh, it feels like coming home. she’s gentle with you, cradling and stroking your neck and arms. you sag into her.

her pouty lips are soft and warm, her tongue swipes along your bottom lip and a shudder runs down your back. when you open your mouth for her, it’s heaven.

it’s retribution.

you pull back, stumbling over your feet as you remove yourself from her lap. her chest is heaving, and you catch yourself watching her ab muscles clench with every breath. you scrub your forehead.

“this is wrong,” you say.

“what?” she scoffs a laugh, “baby—”

“this is wrong and you know it.” your voice cracks, the emotion you’ve been shoving down all these months finally coming back to suffocate you. “you’re in love with her.”

violet flinches.

“you’re in love with her, not me, and i—” a sob leaves your throat, “i’m falling in love with you and i can’t keep sacrificing myself for-for this.” you gesture between the two of you. “it’s not enough.”

“you—” vi starts, standing to meet you, “you—i can’t lose you, too.” you can see her own tears forming in her eyes. “please. i can’t.” the desperation in her voice is unparalleled, you've never heard her so emotional.

the dam breaks. you fall into her arms, wrapping yourself around her neck as you cry into each other’s shoulders. you both crumple to the floor, she is gripping you like you’re her salvation. neither of you say anything.

time passes and she falls asleep in your hold; you eventually heave her onto the couch. tucking her in with a spare pillow and blanket, you watch for a few silent moments as she peacefully breathes in her sleep.

a thought crosses your mind, maybe you could lay down next to her for the night, but you shake it away with surprising willpower. leaning above her, you press a longing kiss against her temple and squeeze your eyes shut. a murmur leaves her lips, it sounds a lot like your name.

when violet wakes her head is pounding in retaliation for how much she drank the previous night. a groan leaves her lips and her eyes flutter open as memories come streaming back to her. she gasps, sitting up too quickly. ignoring the way her stomach turns, she glances around your empty apartment.

she finds you sleeping in your room, curled up in bed, snoozing quietly. her heart clenches. she knows that you deserve better than what she's been giving you, she knows how much damage your heart has taken the last few months. she’s like a parasite, draining you of all the affection she needs and in return inflicting you with the illness that comes with caring for her.

but she can’t make herself stay away.

she knows why, too. she just doesn't have the strength to admit it.

instead, she leans above you, pressing a longing kiss against your temple and taking a shuddering breath. she pulls away and watches as a murmur leaves your lips, her name.

she wipes the crippling onslaught of tears off her cheeks as she approaches your front door. muffling the sounds of her cries with a tight hand over her mouth, she leaves, gently shutting the door behind her.

© planetveensz 2024