#so she certainly lived up to that promise! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sleepyhoon · 7 months ago

Text

✰ pairing. — emo!hs x reader

✰ genre. — early 2000s au, best friend's older brother, childhood friends to lovers, smut, light angst.

✰ word count. — 7k+

✰ warnings. — swearing, family issues, partying, mentions of drinking/drugs, friendship betrayal (?), smut [virginity loss, teasing, fingering, soft dom!hs, "i've waited so long for this" type shit], reader and hs are both 18+, minors dni. very cliche shit. reader doesn’t know much abt sex tbh.

✰ synopsis. — Love notes were slipped into your locker on a daily basis. Variations of messy, boyish handwriting on yellow sticky notes stacked upon themselves by the end of each school day. Every Friday night you were invited out with the promise of, "You'll have fun, just give it a chance."

You could have any guy you wanted, no doubt about it. Yet somehow, the only one you do want is the tattooed, gothic one that lives a few doors down from your best friend.

✰ a/n. revamping this from my bts acc with heeseung this time bc im absolutely obsessed with this couple and need them to exist in every possible universe :P revamping part 2 as we speak and ill post in a few days hehe

✰ perm taglist. @intromortal @aanniikkaa @meetletsinmontauk @lovelyyf @right-person-wrong-time

———

Two monumental events had been etched into your brain for eternity, the first being sneaking out in the middle of the night to meet up with your friends at the community pool. The second is fifteen minutes upon arriving at the pool, seeing your best friend's older brother emerge from the chlorine-scented water as if he were Poseidon and realizing you were utterly infatuated by him.

Lee Chaeryeong isn't blind to this, immediately pulling you away from the crowd to question the longing gaze on your face. "Out of every fucking guy here with us, you're making eyes at my brother? You do know that Heeseung is completely gross, right?" She was so furious, you're surprised no steam was blowing from her ears.

Deny it all you want (and you certainly did within that fifteen-minute interrogation); Heeseung very clearly had a hold on you that lasted many years following that fateful night. He wasn't even your usual type; he wouldn't be caught dead around the guys you're typically drawn to. He had a rebellious side; maybe that's why getting him out of your head was nearly impossible.

Of course, the eternal guilt of falling for your best friend's older, dumbass brother is also difficult to get out of your head.

It can't be helped, really. Anytime you'd visit their home, your eyes would automatically wander through the crack of his doorway as you'd pass by. Whether he was messily cutting his dark hair while blasting Pierce the Veil from his speakers or giving himself a new Stick-and-Poke tattoo as he waited for a CD to finish burning, you long to break away from Chaeryeong for a moment to speak to him. Ask him about his day or if his band had any upcoming gigs. You'd even talk to him about paint drying if it meant you'd get to be in the same space as him.

So it's safe to say you were completely heartbroken when he left for college. Chaeryeong, however, is over the moon. Or so you think.

"… He's your brother, though. You don't think you're gonna miss him at all?" You ask, watching Chaeryeong delicately paint your fingernails a pretty shade of purple.

She shrugs, "I mean… it's definitely gonna be weird not seeing him around the house every day, but he'll still visit sometimes. Maybe."

Deep down, Chaeryeong knows Heeseung won't visit much. He'd been craving freedom and independence from their parents for ages, and moving away for college gave him the perfect opportunity to live as he pleased. They weren't fond of the clothes he wore or the friends he had, and absolutely couldn't bear the music his band makes. They criticized every little thing about him, and he'd finally be getting a break from them.

As you're about to ask Chaeryeong if she's okay, she stands from her bed, screwing the nail polish closed. "I'll be back. I have to let Bam out." Her voice is shaky, and she doesn't look at you as she exits the room.

You take the opportunity to make your way down the hall and to Heeseung's door, which he has conveniently left wide open as he scrolls on his desktop. His knees are pressed against his chest as he's heavily focused on editing his Facebook page. There's a rock song playing lightly from another tab that you can't quite identify; he uses his free hand to gently tap along to the beat of the music.

His room is covered in cardboard boxes, soon to be packed into his parents' minivan and making their way to the University of San Francisco dorms.

Your knuckles tap on his wooden door, your heart fluttering when he turns around, and you realize he's changed the ring on his lip from black to silver.

He nods at you, "What's up?"

"Nothing. I just know you're leaving in the morning, and I wanted to say bye. And wish you good luck, of course." You're not sure why you're so heartbroken. It's not like the two of you were ever a thing. It's not like this would be your last time seeing him. Why were you so upset?

"Cool, thanks." You assume that was his way of indirectly telling you to get out until he reaches into his desk drawer and says, "Catch," before tossing something towards you.

Careful not to mess up your manicure, you easily catch the item, unfolding what appears to be a purple bandanna. "What's this for?" You ask, inspecting the material in your palms.

"To remember me by, duh. Plus, it matches your nails.”

It'd be silly to tell him you genuinely don't need this because there was no way in hell you could ever forget about him. Instead, you clutch the bandana tightly in your fist and make a silent vow to keep it with you at all times; have a piece of him with you at all times.

You thank him and tell him it's nice, but all you can wonder is why he even wants you to remember him in the first place. Maybe you're overthinking. He probably just didn't care for the useless accessory anymore.

When you turn to leave, Heeseung stops you with a gentle call of your name. He turns his head in your direction, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth. "Can I tell you something?"

"Anything." You whisper back, praying you don't sound overly desperate for a more extended interaction with him.

A beat of silence passes, and just as he opens his mouth to respond, Chaeryeong is stomping up the stairs and belting out your name. You gaze away from Heeseung to glance behind you, listening as his sister shouts about doing each other's makeup.

"Never mind, actually. It's not important." Heeseung interrupts, and you physically feel your heart sink to the floor.

You're about to be annoying and pry a response out of him until your eyes dart to his floor, and you see it. What slipped out from his drawer when he tossed the bandana at you.

A condom wrapper. An empty one, at that.

It's embarrassing how quickly your vision becomes glossy, salty tears threatening to release with each passing second. Of course, he's fucking someone. Of course, that person isn't you. Of fucking course.

You shouldn't be surprised; he's probably more into girls with a similar aesthetic. She's probably covered in tattoos and piercings, just like him. She's probably older than you and may even have her own car, unlike you, who still had to catch rides with your parents or older sister.

It's odd, though. You're not entirely naive; you know Heeseung definitely flirts with you here and there, catching his eye when his gaze lingers on you for a second too long. There's a noticeable tension between the two of you that even your parents have teased about. And this whole time, he's been screwing someone else?

Heeseung hangs out with so many girls it'd be useless to even attempt to uncover who this mystery person is. It's none of your business, anyway.

So you leave.

You tell Chaeryeong you'll get grounded if you're home past curfew, and with tear-stained cheeks, you run home.

The following day isn't any easier.

Chaeryeong posted a photo on FaceBook of herself and Heeseung posing together, arms wrapped around each other, with the caption "c u l8r alligator XD". The comments are already flooded with responses wishing Heeseung farewell, some from family members or friends of the siblings.

"Don't 4get abt me!!!!!! >:( "from a girl with red hair catches your eye because it's the only one Heeseung responded to. You can't bring yourself to read his full reply, fingers moving to quickly close the tab after seeing the word 'Never.'

It's probably her, you think to yourself, the one he's sleeping with.

Maybe it's for the best that Heeseung's moving away; it'll give you some time to get over him.

And you most certainly did.

The only time he ever crosses your mind is when Chaeryeong brings him up (which she rarely does) or when you pass by his empty bedroom. Deep down, you know you'll always care for Heeseung on some level, but time away from him was just what you needed. You were too attached to him for no fathomable reason, rejecting any guy interested in you with the premise of being loyal to a guy who didn't even want you. He'd probably been sneaking girls in through his window, with you a few doors down doing magazine quizzes with his sister; blissfully unaware of what was happening down the hall.

You’re better off without him.

That's what you've been telling yourself daily until now. It's the start of summer vacation, and Heeseung's been summoned home to spend it with his family before Chaeryeong (and you) transfer to the University of San Francisco.

Heeseung was hesitant about coming home, as he always is. In constant fear that his parents have some elaborate plan for him to change his major or set him up with someone they deem acceptable, nothing like the girls he hangs around and probably invites back to his dorm.

It took days of convincing until Heeseung finally agreed to come home, under the premise that his parents' intentions were pure and that they simply wanted one last summer together before Chaeryeong moved away for college. They also hoped he'd be able to house-sit and watch over Chaeryeong for a few days as they took their annual anniversary trip to San Diego. That, however, took some bribing and the promise of gas money on their end.

He's not due to arrive until tomorrow morning, and you've convinced yourself there's no reason for you to see him right away. You'd be fine if the next time you saw him was in a few months as you're moving into your dorm. After years of longing, you've finally moved on from him.

Some of you have debated telling Chaeryeong about your past feelings for her brother, but there's no point. It was a one-sided relationship with absolutely zero depth, nothing worth discussing. So when she nudges your side and asks if you're interested in anyone, you reply with a shake of your head.

Chaeryeong has no reaction to this; she can't remember the last time you've been into anyone despite having the entire male population at your school practically throwing themselves at you. "Maybe you'll meet someone tonight."

She's referencing the house party you're going to, which she practically had to drag you out of your room to attend. Parties are different from your scene, especially on a day like today when you were hoping to have a girls' night with Chaeryeong. She had other plans, however.

"Maybe," you respond, sighing as the house you're attending is finally in your viewpoint. "We're not staying long, right? It looks packed."

Cars are parked throughout the street, one house, in particular, being the center of attention with loud music and drunk people decorating the front yard of a suburban-looking home. Chaeryeong looks as ecstatic as ever, looping her arm in yours and picking up her pace. She doesn't respond. It doesn't matter. Her response would've disregarded your concern.

One car catches your eye as you enter the unfamiliar house; it's parked towards the end of the street, and you swear you've been in it before. You're not able to dwell on it for too long, though, because Chaeryeong has to practically yank you through the front door.

Your nerves are at an all-time high. The music is entirely too loud, and there isn't a single sober person in sight. You're not sure how Chaeryeong even found out about this party, but you really wish she would've left you out of it. You'd go now if it were acceptable, but Chaeryeong would've stayed regardless, and you refuse to leave her alone. So, you push your feelings to the side and take her hand as she leads you towards the kitchen.

"Thirsty?" Chaeryeong questions, forcing a red solo cup into your hand.

"Not at all," you respond, sighing as Chaeryeong pours something into your cup.

"It's just ginger ale," she reassures you, "I don't think either of us should get drunk here." For once, she's being reasonable.

Chaeryeong suggests you do a lap around the house in hopes of running into people you may have gone to school with. And to your surprise, a decent amount of your past classmates have decided to attend. You feel more at ease with them around, a bit more comfortable now that you're around recognizable people. Although you initially hesitated to show up, you're glad you did.

"Anybody catch your eye yet? Or are you still breaking hearts?" Your old classmate, Yeoreum, questions.

You shake your head, about to explain that you're not interested in dating right now, until she gestures behind you. "That guy is pretty cute."

You shift on the couch, looking around until you spot who Yeoreum had been gesturing towards. You locate him finally, and she's right; he is cute. He just seems so familiar.

That's when it hits you.

"Oh my God," you whisper, eyes locked on him, and you slowly rise from the couch.

It's Heeseung. And the car you recognized was his. He's here. What is he doing here? He isn't due to be back until tomorrow morning.

You almost don't realize it's him until you spot the mole under his lip. He's grown his hair out and stopped dyeing it, the slew of tattoos that decorated his arm (God, did he start working out, too?) nicely connected, now creating a sleeve, and he's given himself an eyebrow piercing. Your feelings for him come rushing back in full force.

Panicked, you reach for Chaeryeong's hand, but she's nowhere to be found. Careful not to be seen by her brother, you bow your head slightly, passing through a crowd of sweaty bodies until you finally spot her kitty heels. She's leaned against a wall, swirling around her cup while flirting with some guy you'd seen around school a few times.

Creating some much-needed distance between the two, you tug Chaeryeong towards you. "I think I just saw your brother."

"What? No, he won't even be in the city until tomorrow morning."

Frustrated, you quickly search the crowd until your eyes land on him again. You ignore the fact that he's now speaking to some girl with red hair and tattoos scattered across her arm and point in their direction, "Well, then that guy looks just like him."

Chaeryeong squints her eyes in disbelief at the boy in question until the doubt becomes confusion, and the confusion becomes realization. "Oh my God! The fuck is he doing here?" She turns towards you as if you're supposed to have the answer.

"The fuck should I know? You said he wouldn't be here until tomorrow morning!"

"Because that's what he told our parents! How was I supposed to know he was gonna be here? I never would've come if I knew!"

"What are you guys doing here?" A voice you haven't heard in so long interrupts. You don't even want to turn around.

"What are you doing here?" Chaeryeong throws back, and the two stare at each other in angry silence for a moment until Heeseung steps to the side. "Upstairs," he says, nodding towards the staircase.

"But—"

"Go."

Chaeryeong's clearly aggravated but makes her way towards the stairs. You remain in place with your arms crossed, raising a brow in confusion when Heeseung looks at you. "What?"

"You too."

"I'm not—"

"I'm not asking again," he says simply. You convince yourself that you only take his command because you don't feel like fighting. Definitely not because it's interesting to have him boss you around.

Trudging up the stairs behind Chaeryeong, you wait with her in the hallway until Heeseung arrives. "Come on," he says, entering a bathroom and turning the light on. Neither you nor Chaeryeong protest; there really isn't any point.

As soon as the door is shut, Chaeryeong is yelling at the top of her lungs. "What the fuck are you doing here?! You said you wouldn't be back until tomorrow morning! Mom and Dad had to push their trip back just to give you more time to arrive, and you're already fucking here?! The fuck is the matter with you?!"

"I'm not gonna respond if you're gonna be yelling like this." Heeseung says calmly, leaning against the sink, "Let me get my questions out first, then I'll answer any of yours, deal?"

Chaeryeong glances over at you, sitting on the bathtub's edge, and you nod. She returns her attention back to Heeseung, takes a deep breath, then agrees.

"Now, what are you guys doing here?! How'd you even get invited?! And you're drinking?!" The calm demeanor from earlier slips away in a matter of seconds, clearly a hoax just to get Chaeryeong to calm down enough to let him speak.

"It's just ginger ale, and we've barely even had any! We were invited by our friends, okay? We have just as much right to be here as you do."

Heeseung scoffs, clearly unamused. "Right, and I'm assuming Mom and Dad know you're here then, huh?"

Chaeryeong nervously tucks a hair behind her ear. You wonder why you even have to be in here with them. It's not like Heeseung is your brother, anyway.

"We told our parents that we were going to a birthday party at a friend's house." Chaeryeong mumbles, barely able to look Heeseung in the eye.

"And what did they say when they dropped you guys off?"

"They didn't drop us off," you interrupt, "we walked here."

"Well, I wasn't gonna tell him that." Chaeryeong glares at you, it takes every bone in your body to not to laugh at her.

You're so over this. You didn't want to attend this dumb party in the first place, and seeing Heeseung flirting with some girl who could've been his female counterpart was the icing on the cake. It doesn't matter if your feelings for him were gone before tonight; every little emotion you'd felt for him over the years had returned (as if they ever left).

"And how exactly did you two geniuses plan on getting home?"

"Same way we got here."

"Can you please just let me handle this? Jesus Christ…" Chaeryeong shoots another frustrated glare at you, and you can't help but roll your eyes at her. She turns back towards her brother, "Can you answer my questions now?"

Heeseung's eyes anxiously dart around the cramped bathroom, landing on you a few times before he's slowly nodding his head. "Alright, Mom and Dad basically forced me to spend the whole summer here, and I kept asking myself why they were so persistent about it. They finally told me they needed me to watch over you and the house for their stupid trip. I had plans too, you know? That I had to derail for them. My band could've spent this summer touring, making real money, and now we can't. So, they wanna inconvenience me? I'll inconvenience them right back."

"…Inconvenience them by doing what?" Chaeryeong asks the exact question you had.

Heeseung shrugs, "By telling them I'm gonna be arriving a day late, duh."

You and Chaeryeong exchange an awkward glance at one other before silently agreeing not to tease him about it. If this was his badass way of retaliating, who were you to rain on his parade?

"Are you gonna tell anyone you saw us here?" Chaeryeong questions, a noticible tremble in her voice.

"As long as you guys don't tell anyone you saw me."

It's a fair trade, you accept it. You're even more delighted when Heeseung says he's taking the two of you home. Chaeryeong, however, isn't too happy about this, claiming there were so many people she didn't get to speak to, and how'd this be the last time she'd get to see them before moving away for school. You're not sure if Chaeryeong is really good at getting what she wants, or if Heeseung was tired of hearing her complain, but he finally gives in and grants her ten more minutes to socialize before meeting him at his car.

"If you're not at my car in ten minutes, I swear to God I'm calling mom." Heeseung scolds, holding the bathroom door open as the three of you finally exit.

A loud, drunk voice suddenly shouts, "Woah, Heeseung! Two girls at the same time!? You fucking beast!"

"They're my sisters, you fucking pervert!" He shouts back.

You can't even dwell on how disgusting the original comment was, only being able to focus on the fact that Heeseung just referred to you as his sister. As conceited as it may sound, you're not used to rejection or guys putting you in the friend-zone. Whatever little game Heeseung had been playing with you over the years was completely new territory. And right when you think things couldn't possibly get any worse, he calls you his sister.

What the actual fuck.

—

The next ten minutes go by in a blur; Chaeryeong has ditched you for a second time that night to talk to the guy from earlier. When it's finally time to leave, you find her Sat on his lap with her arm hung across his shoulder, laughing at an unfunny pickup line he'd used on her.

"It's time, Chaeryeong," you interrupt, helping her stand.

"Wait, wait, wait," she persists, directing her attention back to the boy, "tomorrow at five, right?"

"And not a second later." He sends her a disgusting wink that makes your skin crawl.

Chaeryeong is so love-struck you're surprised there isn't an arrow lodged in her back. She can barely form a proper sentence, erupting into a fit of giggles every few seconds as you make your way to Heeseung's car. "Wasn't he just gorgeous?"

You shrug, linking arms with her. "He was alright."

Stunned, Chaeryeong gasps at you, "Just alright? He was literally like a Greek God."

"I'm not saying he's unattractive; he's just...not really my type."

"And what is your type, Miss. Never-Has-Been-Interested-In-Anyone?"

Now, there's the question of the hour. You have to word your response very carefully; don't be too obvious about the fact that your ideal type is her older sibling.

"I guess I prefer guys with an edgier look to them, you know? Tattoos, piercings..." Despite your attempt to sound as nonchalant as possible, your heart is beating out of your chest from the mild confession.

Chaeryeong snickers, then playfully groans. "It sounds like you're describing my brother."

Now, you really have to test the waters.

"Since you brought him up, would it be so bad if I did like Heeseung? Hypothetically speaking, of course." You're not sure what prompts you to even ask this. It's not like he's even interested in you; he literally just referred to you as his sister.

A beat of silence passes as Chaeryeong gathers her thoughts, then she says, "No."

"What?"

You've finally reached Heeseung's car at this point, beating him there. You sit atop the trunk, feet hovering above the ground as the cold, nighttime air swirls around you. Chaeryeong shakes her head, "Obviously, it wouldn't be the ideal situation, but I guess I wouldn't mind as long as you talked to me about it first."

"First?" You mimic.

"Like...assuming you'd wanna date him or something. Just so I'm not blindsided, you know?"

This is the last thing you would've expected your impulsive, hotheaded (yet oh-so-loveable) best friend to be reasonable about. Mainly because she lectured you for nearly twenty minutes when she first suspected you had a crush on Heeseung.

You go to respond, but Heeseung, finally arriving at the car, captivates both of your attention. He finishes off his can of Pepsi before crushing the aluminum and tossing it to the ground. "Ready?" He questions.

There's no point in giving him a speech about littering; you're just ready to go home.

He fishes his keys from his pocket and unlocks the car door; Chaeryeong opens the backseat and jumps in before you have the chance, sprawling across the aged leather. "Move over," you nudge her foot with your knee; she pulls away from you.

Heeseung calls your name, "Just sit up front. She's not gonna move."

Now, this is new. You've ridden in the backseat of his car with Chaeryeong more times than you can count; he'd never allow either of you to sit shotgun with him; typical annoying older brother bullshit.

Don't make a big deal out of this, you say to yourself, climbing into the passenger seat of his car.

Chaeryeong and Heeseung bicker the entire ride to their parent's house, partially out of annoyance with each other, but you also get the feeling that neither of them were genuinely ready to leave the party. You're surprised Heeseung even enjoyed parties; he spent most of high school either working, hanging out at skate parks, or practicing with his band in their garage. College must've really changed him, and you're unsure how to feel about it.

Heeseung parks a few houses down from their parent's house and unlocks the doors, "Get out," he says into the backseat.

"Where are you gonna spend the night?" Chaeryeong questions, stretching her arms outward.

"I checked into a motel this morning. I'll be back here tomorrow around noon. And, hey," Heeseung turns around, pointing a finger at his sister. "Don't tell them you saw me."

Mockingly, Chaeryeong points a finger right back at him. "Telling them I saw you would be exposing myself, cock-sucker. Leave me alone." She angrily begins to climb out of the car, annoyed at how little trust Heeseung had in her.

You turn to go, but Heeseung's cold hand on your bicep stops you, "Where you goin'?"

"I'm gonna walk home from here. It's only a few minutes away," you respond.

Heeseung shakes his head, "I'm dropping you off. You haven't moved since I left, right?"

"No, but it's fi—"

"Then your house is on the way to my motel. We're going in the same direction; might as well ride together."

It truly does make more sense to ride together, and rejecting his offer any further surely would raise suspicions. You don't want either of them to believe you'd feel uncomfortable being alone with Heeseung because that couldn't be farther from the truth. You're perplexed about your feelings now, and you don't want to do anything you'd regret just because of the confusion.

"Okay, then." You glance over your shoulder at Chaeryeong, "Will you need any help getting ready for your date tomorrow?"

Suddenly embarrassed, Chaeryeong shushes you, gesturing that Heeseung is literally right next to you and would prefer that he didn't hear about her dating life. Heeseung genuinely couldn't care less and is instead patiently waiting for his sister to get out.

She does finally, and Heeseung resumes his path to your house. He turns the radio on, switching between stations until he stops on one that's playing a song he's familiar with. You drive silently for a few minutes; the only sounds being heard are the distant noises from the car's motor and Heeseung humming along to the radio.

He breaks the silence by saying, "I was surprised to see you back there. You never really seemed like the type to enjoy parties."

You chuckle, "I could say the same for you; I don't remember you attending any in high school."

"That's 'cause house parties weren't my thing," he explains, "I went to raves or parties that would happen at the skate park. I don't really like being at someone else's house for too long; it feels too intimate."

Now that you think of it, skate park parties and raves seem much more like his scene.

"Well, I only went because Chaeryeong was going, and I didn't feel comfortable with her being there alone. Otherwise, I never would've gone." You admit, resting your head against the window.

"Thanks for looking after her, by the way. You're a good friend."

"I'd do anything for her." Your voice is barely a whisper now, getting quieter with every word you say.

Silence passes, and he says, "Did you know your guys' dorm room is gonna be right under ours?"

"Seriously?" You respond, genuinely curious.

"Mmm-hmm. My roommate, Sunghoon, and I are gonna be the worst upstairs neighbors ever." He teases as you roll your eyes. Your mind can't decipher whether this banter is playful & platonic or romantic. Everything Heeseung does confuses you.

"If that's the case, I'll be sure to move to an entirely new building."

"What, so you can have your boyfriend protect you?"

Pause. Boyfriend?

You nearly give yourself whiplash from how hard you spun around to look at Heeseung. "Boyfriend?" You ask.

He shrugs nonchalantly, keeping his eyes on the road. "I just assumed you'd have one by now. Do you?"

There he is again with his mind games. What the fuck was he talking about?

After letting out a very frustrated sigh, you mumble, "No, Heeseung, I do not have a boyfriend."

"Good. Focus on school."

Now he's pissing you off. You wish he'd shut up for the rest of the car ride. "It's nice to see you again, by the way."

Holy shit, you feel like jumping out the window.

"Yeah, great seeing you too. Oh, there's my house. I can walk from here." You make quick work of undoing your seatbelt.

"You sure? I can drop you off at the door."

"No, no. It's best if my parents don't see you so they don't accidentally tell your parents that they saw you." You lie, racking your brain for any excuse imaginable.

He nods, deciding it's best to drop you off a little further from your house. "Then, I'll see you tomorrow?"

"What?" You stop dead in your tracks, one hand clutching the door handle.

"Aren't you coming over tomorrow to help Chaeryeong get ready for her…thing? I'll be back home by then."

He's right; you'd be back in his house, and he'll be there this time. It's no big deal. You'd only be there for an hour (at most) to help her prepare, and then you could go the whole summer without seeing him again.

"Yeah, I'll see you then."

The following day, Chaeryeong is back to her unreasonable self, expecting you to wait at her house for her to return from her date.

"Please? We're just going to get pizza; we won't even be gone that long." She pleads, adding the finishing touches to her makeup.

You'd already spent over an hour helping her prepare, and now she expects you to do nothing but await her return. You know her heart's in the right place; she just wants to be the first to hear all the exhilarating details about her date. Still, a phone call would suffice.

"What am I supposed to do while I wait for you to come back?" You whine.

"Just hang out here! Watch a movie or something!" She suggests, trying her absolutely hardest to sound enthusiastic. Her phone buzzes in her hand before she has the chance to continue, eyes lighting up as they flicker across the bright screen.

Chaeryeong clutches her phone, locks eyes with you, then rushes towards the door. You're faster, though, quickly capturing her wrist before she's barely reached the hallway. "I'm going home."

"No! If you stay here, I'll bring you back pizza, and we can have a girls' night like we were supposed to yesterday! Come on, please?" She begs, pouting her lips.

You go to reply, but the bathroom door swings open, and Heeseung strides out. Just to your luck, he's shirtless; water droplets descend from his hair as he towel-dries it. As he enters his bedroom, he mocks his sister's high-pitched whine, earning a lethal glare and a slew of swears thrown at him.

Perhaps you should stay.

"Fine, but you're lending me your pajamas." You give in, earning an enthusiastic shriek from your best friend.

Chaeryeong wraps you in a brief, yet tight, hug before shouting, "Be back soon!" Then she's rushing down the stairs and out the front door. It's not often that Chaeryeong makes you wait for her return, but you absolutely despise it whenever it does occur. She's never back by the time she promises and gets upset when you try to call and check up on her.

And speaking of calling, you're sure your phone is dead by now. You insisted Chaeryeong bring her's along just in case, so you're left with one option.

Heeseung's door is wide open (as usual) when you go to knock. He's fully clothed now, pairing his black sweatpants with a matching black t-shirt. His hair appears mostly dry now, chaotic as ever, but dry. You don't think he's ever looked this good before.

He's sat on his bed, flipping through the latest copy of Rolling Stone when you arrive. He glances over at you and lets out a dry chuckle.

"What's so funny?" You ask.

"You're dressed like Bella Swan." He responds casually, eyes raking up and down your body.

"Who?"

"From Twilight. You know, that new movie that came out?" He seems genuinely surprised that you don't seem to know anything about this movie, not even the name of (who you suspect to be) the main character.

You lean against the doorframe, "Haven't seen it."

"It's a great movie, seriously. Some friends and I are seeing it in a few days if you and Chaeryeong wanna come." He suggests, flipping another page in the magazine.

You let him know you'll ask Chaeryeong if she's interested before remembering why you came to his room in the first place and ask if you can borrow his phone charger. Heeseung directs you to where it's plugged up by his desk, and you finally have the chance to stroll further into his room. You can't recall the last time you've been in here, but you know it looks much different than before. Many of the band posters that decorated the room were gone, his random trinkets and piles of clothes were gone, and not a single piece of his CD collection was in sight. It felt so lifeless, so unlike him. No wonder he always dreaded returning home; it probably didn't even feel like home to him.

"So," you say, attempting to break the silence, "you're here for the whole summer, huh?"

"Unfortunately." He mumbles, "Gonna try and go by sooner, convince my parents I have to sort out an issue with my dorm or something."

"It's nice to have you back, though." You admit, watching as Heeseung's gaze locks on yours.

"Yeah? It is?" He questions.

You shrug, "Of course. We practically grew up together; it was weird to not see you all the time."

He sits up now, closing the magazine and tossing it on his nightstand. There's something on his mind that he isn't saying; you can tell from the way his brows knit together and how he's anxiously tugging on his lip piercing. "It was weird to be gone," he mumbles and leaves it at that.

"By the way, I'm sorry about last night." He apologizes.

"For what? Calling me your sister?"

He laughs at this, shaking his head. "I didn't mean to do that on purpose, by the way. That guy was just...so weird, I kinda blurted out the first thing that would've made him feel weird for even thinking that."

Oh. That makes sense. You definitely overreacted.

"I meant," he continues, "I'm sorry if the whole boyfriend assumption thing upset you."

"Oh," you dismissively wave a hand at him, "that was nothing."

Heeseung raises a brow at you, "Are you sure? 'Cause you seemed pretty upset afterward, you were practically running out of my car."

There's no point in lying now, considering you weren't even the slightest bit discrete the previous night.

"If I'm being completely honest, I just felt a little awkward. But that's it, I swear." You assure him, moving to lean against the bedside table.

"Awkward about what?"

God, this was so embarrassing. Is he really going to make you humiliate yourself like this?

"Because I've never actually had a boyfriend before."

Heeseung looks genuinely shocked at your confession, eyes nearly bulging out of his head as he examines yours for any sign of deception. "You don't believe me?"

"I'm not sure. I only assumed you had one just based on how crazy guys were about you in high school. Not to mention you're, like, fucking gorgeous."

What?

"I'm what?" You ask, not entirely sure if you heard him correctly.

He repeats himself again, and you make him do it a few more times until he's too embarrassed to say it again. You somehow manage to get back on the topic of never having a boyfriend before when Heeseung asks you another question. "Have you ever...?"

He doesn't need to finish the sentence. You know what he's asking.

You shake your head.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked. It's none of my business." He berates himself, and you assure him it's no big deal and that it shouldn't even be a shocker to him.

After a half hour of talking about whatever comes to mind, you wind up sitting opposite Heeseung on his bed, legs perched up underneath your body as you go back and forth, questioning one another.

"So, when are you gonna admit you had a crush on me?" His voice is barely a whisper.

"I never did." You lie.

"Really? That sucks?"

"Why?"

He shrugs, leaning his back against the headboard. "I just always thought that maybe you and I would've ended up together at some point."

You don't remember who leans in first; it doesn't matter; all that matters is after years of longing, your lips are finally intertwined with his. He must've smoked today; you can taste the nicotine on his breath. But it doesn't matter; you don't make the slightest move to pull away. Neither does he, placing his hands on the small of your back to guide you onto his lap.

Your body is moving on autopilot, limbs moving to do whatever feels right as you silently pray not to ruin the moment. Heeseung can spot your nervousness from a mile away and stop you, "We don't have to do—"

"I want to," you pant, breathless, "I've wanted this for so long."

"Do you trust me?" He asks.

"More than anything."

He kisses you again before adjusting your current position, slowly twisting yourselves until you're lying flat on your back. He moves his lips down towards your neck, leaving a trail of kisses in his path as he settles between your legs.

You reach up to grab a handful of his hair, nearly jumping out of your skin as his delicate fingertips creep up your inner thigh, inching closer and closer until his ghosting over your clothed pussy. "This okay?" He mumbles.

You nod, unable to form a coherent sentence. "Cute," he replies, "you're already so wet." His fingertips stroke your clit through your damp underwear; you don't think to wonder how he managed to get to it so quickly, all thoughts leaving your brain as he makes small circles using his middle and index finger.

"Heeseung…" You moan, pleading for him to do more.

"I know." He assures you, using a single finger to pull your panties to the side, making just enough room for him to slide a finger into your aching cunt. "Am I really your first time?"

You nod again out of fear that a moan would slip from your lips if you even tried to speak. His eyes are locked on yours, studying your expression as he coaxes a finger inside you. You're embarrassed at how quickly your wetness coated his finger, but Heeseung doesn't care. He likes it, makes him feel fucking amazing knowing the effect he had on you.

"Take your shirt off." He says, and you do as told, pulling your top up and off your body and tossing it to the floor; making quick work of undoing your bra before he even has the chance to ask.

His lips are back on your neck instantly, trailing down to your collarbone until he reaches the curve on your breast. He halts his actions momentarily before your pitched nipple is caught between his teeth and your back arching off the bed from how overstimulating everything feels.

You curse under your breath, and Heeseung makes another comment about how cute you are, though you feel far from it. He apologizes by lapping his tongue around your nipple, easing the pain slowly as he inserts a second finger into your cunt.

You can feel his bulge against your thigh, though he doesn't even care about getting himself off. He moves over to your nipple, licking and sucking until it's completely hardened, leaving himself breathless. The two fingers that had been working your cunt had picked up the pace now, and there was an unfamiliar feeling in your gut that you couldn't identify.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…" You groan, legs trembling.

Heeseung is all too familiar with these actions and asks, "You're already close? I've barely done anything to you." He teases, chuckling to himself.

You know he's being lighthearted, but you can't help but feel embarrassed at the tears forming in your eyes from how good everything feels.

Suddenly, he's pulling his fingers out of you, and now you feel like crying for a different reason. You go to protest but stop to watch as he takes his shirt off. If you weren't sure then, it's obvious now he'd started attending the gym.

He makes quick work of tugging his sweatpants down his legs, tossing them into the abyss before reaching into his bedside table and retrieving a condom. "You're okay?"

You nod.

"Use your words."

“I’m okay, Heeseung.”

"You're still okay with this?"

"Yes."

"You sure?"

Jesus fucking Christ, the saint this man is.

"I'm positive." You assure him.

You move to pull down your skirt and underwear, but Heeseung catches your wrist. "Leave them on," he says. There are so many things going on that you choose not to question.

He pulls off his boxers in the meantime, hardened cock slapping against his abdomen with precum leaking from the tip. Though you had nothing to compare it to, Heeseung was obviously slightly larger than average. You shouldn't be surprised; it's always the guys that you'd least expect.

He tears the condom wrapper with his teeth, retrieving the rubber inside before tossing the remains to his floor. Despite being fully erect, he fists his cock a few times before sliding the condom on.

He crawls over you, left arm at the side of his head, while he uses his dick to nudge your panties to the side. "This still okay?"

"I already told you—fuck!" He cuts you off, the tip of his cock slowly making its way inside you. You feel so stretched out from this alone you don't know how you'd manage to fit all of him into you.

Heeseung must be feeling the same, swearing under his breath and commenting about how tight you feel around him. Second by second, he coaxes himself into your pussy until you feel like you could split right open. "Are you all the way in?"

"No, can't take anymore?" He asks, leaning his head down against your ear.

You're embarrassed to admit he's too big to handle on your first time, but it's the truth. You don't want to overextend yourself just to please him and end up hurting yourself.

"You can move, just…not too much. Please."

Heeseung nods, "Whatever you want, angel."

He pulls his hips back and rocks himself back in, being sure to ask if you're okay with his pace. Once you confirm you feel fine and want him to keep going, he continues his movements; his eager hips snapping against yours and his cock hitting your G-spot with each deep stroke. You feel like you're on cloud nine, hands tangled in his hair as he swallows your moans.

That unfamiliar feeling from earlier returns; you feel it through your entire body this time. A moan of his name escaping your lips lets him know you're close. How he can always sense these things is beyond you; it's not worth overthinking.

"Close?" He asks, and you nod frantically.

Heeseung picks up his speed slightly, careful not to overwhelm you, but just enough to reach your climax, until finally, the bundle of nerves in your abdomen snaps, and your back is arching off the mattress as you come around his cock.

He's only a few seconds behind with his orgasm, erupting in a loud grunt when he finally reaches it. The two of you lay in silence for a moment before Heeseung finally pulls out of you and slides the condom off, tying it in a knot and tossing it into his trash bin.

"Are you okay?" He asks for what feels like the millionth time.

"I'm fine." You respond, and it isn't a lie. Physically, you feel terrific; mentally, it was an entirely different story. "Are you?"

"I'm good, I'm good."

As much as you would love to lay naked with Heeseung in his bed for the rest of the night, you know Chaeryeong will be home anytime soon. "I think I'm gonna go wash up."

He nods, crawling under his covers once you stand from his bed, tugging your skirt to its proper length as you search for your remaining clothing. "Oh, it's um…your shirt, it's over there." Heeseung awkwardly gestures towards a pile of clothing by the end of his bed.

Almost as quickly as you shred yourself of them, you snatch your clothing and bundle them up against your chest.

"Listen, I know right now isn't really ideal, but I meant what I said about liking you, and really think we should talk." He says nervously, barely even able to look at you.

You almost want to laugh at how cute he is; instead, you agree to talk to him about it soon. You're about to head out into the hallway when Heeseung reminds you about your charging phone over by his desk.

You retrieve it and scan the area again, ensuring you haven't left anything else behind. When everything seems clear, you stand upright, but your eyes fall toward the trash bin near his window with the discarded condom. You're embarrassed to even look at it until you realize something seems off. It looks…empty.

Now, you're no sex expert, but imagine that if Heeseung had finished, there'd be something to show for it in the condom. Right?

Did he fake his orgasm? Was this another one of his fucked up mind games you'd been subjected to?

You don't know what to think as you step into the bathroom; your emotions are all over the place, and all you really want to do is go home. But you promised Chaeryeong you'd be here when she returns, so you stay.

The next time a Lee sibling asks if you're okay is twenty minutes later when Chaeryeong finally arrives and asks why your eyes are so watery.

"I'm fine." You respond, and you're lying for the first time that night.

#enhypen smut #enhypen #lee heeseung #heeseung smut #enhypen imagine #heeseung imagine #lee heeseung smut #enhypen scenario #heeseung scenarios #kpop smut #kpop imagine #kpop scencario #heeseung x reader #enhypen x reader

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kingkaisen · 4 months ago

Text

REUNION! — Satoru Gojo.

♡ — SUMMARY; you & gojo are childhood friends who haven’t seen each other in years. while he went on to become a sorcerer, you went down a dark path. but he’ll certainly have no problem on his mission to stop you, right?

♡ — CONTENT; 18+ ONLY // MDNI — SPOILERS IN THE WARNINGS: fem! reader, friends to strangers to lovers, angst, smut, grinding, blindfolded sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, violent death, drinking, reader is a curse user.

♡ — A/N; sorry for the long word count! no im not!

♡ — WC; 7k

“Y/N, Y/N, make me a promise, okay?” The white-haired kid ran up to you, high green grass tickling his knees as he did so, his childish grin as bright as the summer sun shining above.

At such a young age, still a boy and not yet a sorcerer, you were still taller than he was despite him being one year older, something he reminded you of quite often.

“Y/N!” He shouted again, “I said we need-we need to make a promise.”

“Okay, okay, stop shouting, ‘Toru,” you pushed yourself to your feet, abandoning your previous spot among the grass where you admired the colorful flowers growing. You knew one thing for certain — flower crowns were going to be made for you and Satoru this afternoon.

And he’d wear his until his clan members yanked it off of his invaluable head.

“Okay, hold out your hand,” Satoru huffed, out of breath, but still grinning. He held a closed fist behind his back, and you looked at him distrustfully. The last time he did something similar to this, he planted a bug on your skin.

“Nuh-uh! What’s behind your back?” You frowned.

“You gotta trust me, c’mon, pleaseee?”

After a moment of hesitation, you extended your arm and held out your hand.

Satoru wasted no time placing something on your palm. Something small. Circular. Cold.

When he pulled his hand away, a ring glistened back at you, and you stared at it with wide, curious eyes.

“What’s this for?”

“It means you’re my wife now. That’s how marriage works, okay? We promise to get married ‘cause I gave you a ring, and now I’m your huz-band.”

Suddenly, Satoru whipped around as fast as he could, running away as he giggled, leaving you alone and dumbfounded in your front yard.

But you didn’t bother chasing after him. The aroma of your mother’s delicious soup seeped through the front door and into the yard, traveling under your nose, and you knew that Satoru would return for dinner. He always did.

—

YEARS LATER

—

SATORU GOJO recognized this room. The old-fashioned furniture — which, years ago, was considered stylish — hadn’t been changed in decades. The couch that he once sat on was covered in a thick layer of dust. The TV set across from it was an outdated little thing, and as he touched the black box, he remembered when you and he would sit in front of it and watch reruns of your favorite cartoons. He smiled softly at the bittersweet memory.

But, that smile quickly turned into a concerned frown when he heard footsteps coming from the nearby kitchen. You appeared, stepping through the archway.

“She’s really here,” Satoru thought.

After all, he felt your presence, but he wasn’t certain if it was because you were nearby, or if it was from being inside of your abandoned childhood home.

“Y/N . . .” Satoru called out.

He didn’t know why he called your name. Maybe it was to confirm that it was actually you. After all, he could barely see your face due to the surrounding darkness thanks to the lack of power. All he had to go off of was the information his Six Eyes presented him, and the moonlight shining through the big living room window that illuminated half of your body.

But he couldn’t blame the lack of light for why it was so difficult to recognize you.

He hadn’t seen you in years. Years.

The last time he looked into your eyes, they were glistening with tears from falling and scraping your knee during a game of tag.

“You look well. You look . . . strong,” you said.

The sound of your voice was startling. He had forgotten what it sounded like after so many years, but then again, his memory of it would have been inaccurate, because you no longer sounded like a child, of course.

“What’s going on? What are you doing here? Where the hell have you been?”

Satoru had more questions. Hundreds. Thousands.

“I came here because I needed a place to hide. Figured my parent’s old house would do the trick. Looks like I was wrong,” you put your hands into your pockets. “What are you doing here? How’d you find me?”

“There was . . .” he couldn’t think. After spending so much time imagining his reunion with you, his dear old friend, he never imagined that it would be so strange. So odd. “There was a mission. Someone spotted the curse user who killed four humans this morning fleeing into this neighborhood. I’m guessing that was you.”

You didn’t respond immediately. You only looked the tall man up and down.

“If they sent the inheritor of the Six Eyes out for a little mission like this, you didn’t turn out to be as strong as everyone predicted, huh? And it was six, right?”

“I volunteered for this mission because I recognized the neighborhood. They were going to send my students, but-”

“But you knew I’d be here. You hoped I’d be here.” You interrupted him, smiling as you spoke, as if you were both having a lighthearted conversation, chitchatting like good ol’ pals. “You have students? So you became a teacher? That’s interesting.”

“And you became a damn curse user.” Satoru spoke through gritted teeth, briefly snatching his blindfolded eyes away from you and looking out the window, taking in the moonlit sight of the overgrown grass in the front yard. “I’m going to ask you one last time, Y/N. What happened, and where have you been? Why’d you just disappear?”

You took a few steps in his direction. He debated backing away from you, but he didn’t want to. He wanted to be close to you, even if it was dangerous.

“I disappeared?” You raised your eyebrows. “I might’ve left, but you were the one who disappeared first.”

“How did I-”

“You stopped coming around, ‘Toru.”

Satoru’s heart skipped a beat. The rest of the world might’ve called him Satoru, or Gojo, or the World’s Strongest Sorcerer, but to you, he was simply ‘Toru.

“We hung out every day together, played outside, and ate dinner in that room right there,” you nodded towards the kitchen, “but you had forgotten all about me by the time we were eleven or twelve. I get it, you were the rich kid from a prestigious clan. Had to learn how to control your power and fight. I get it. But you still left first.”

“Why did you kill four people today, Y/N?”

You were both only a few inches apart, close enough to feel each other’s warmth in such a cold room. When your head turned away from him, your body soon to follow, Satoru interrupted your movements by grabbing ahold of your chin. He forced your eyes back in his direction — back up at his face.

“Answer me.” Gojo’s words carried the weight of anger and sadness in them, and that misery created a lump in his throat that he couldn’t swallow. “Why’d you do it?”

“Didn’t have a choice.”

“Don’t be vague. Tell me what happened.”

“What does it matter?”

“It matters because unless you explain yourself, you’ll-”

“Don’t pretend to care about me now.” You smiled softly, staring at his blindfold, leaving him to wonder if you could somehow see through it — if your stare was powerful enough to glare through his cloth and into his shielded eyes. “We don’t know each other anymore. We’re strangers. If I was strong enough, I’d kill you and not feel a thing afterward. Could you do the same?”

“I might not have a choice,” Satoru mumbled. “Unless you surrender, I won’t have a choice.”

His thumb stroked the skin of your cheek, and although the touch was foreign — strange, even — you didn’t shudder.

“You won’t do it.”

“Oh yeah?” His hand fell away from your face as he spoke, taking the warmth his touch brought with him. “What makes you so confident? I’ve had to kill an old friend before. I’m just hoping I won’t have to do that today.”

“The reason why you’re going to let me go right now is because you feel guilty. You left an old friend behind because your clan told you it was the right thing to do. You didn’t know better. That isn’t your fault. But you still feel guilty, because my parents died and I went down a pretty dark path, and even though I wrote you a shitty letter telling you to never look for me, I couldn’t have stopped you if you really wanted to find me. But you didn’t. And now you’re thinking to yourself that, maybe, if you ignored my letter and searched for me anyway, I wouldn’t have become a curse user, right? Blaming yourself for everything is a burden you’ll have to carry for the rest of your life, and if you have to carry the weight of my death on your shoulders too, you won’t be able to handle it. You might end up going down the same dark path as I did. Or as the friend you killed in the past did,” your soft smile never faltered. “So, you’re gonna let me go, tell whoever you work for that I got away, and we’ll never have to see each other again.”

You started to turn away, much like you had done earlier, but this time, it wasn’t Satoru’s touch that halted your footsteps, but the sound of his voice.

“No,” he mumbled.

“No?” You raised your brows.

“I don’t know how the rest of this night’s gonna go. We might try to kill each other, I might let you go, you might surrender, I don’t know. But right now, I don’t wanna . . .” He paused, searching his overworked mind for the right words to say. “I wanna talk to you. Can we?”

During your childhood, your little talks amounted to the both of you sitting side-by-side on your porch, making flower crowns, discussing which animals were the coolest or the lamest. Now, Satoru unfolded an old, blue blanket he found in a hallway closet and tossed it across the wooden floor. He sat down. It was muscle memory — sitting on the floor in front of the couch rather than on it, as his subconscious mind still remembered the days when your parents occupied the tiny sofa, leaving you and him with no other choice but to flop down on the ground in front of them if you wanted to watch television too — not that either one of you minded.

The floor creaked underneath your booted feet. Satoru looked to his right and took in the sight of you approaching with a special bottle of aged wine.

“Hope you don’t mind drinking out of a bottle. The glasses are all dusty, and I’m not putting my lips on those,” you said, gently plopping down beside him.

There you both were, sitting on the blanketed floor in front of your couch and across from the lifeless television, but with the gorgeous moon and stars bright and visible through the big window; the night sky itself was a show of twinkling beauty.

“I’m surprised you agreed to this. You’re pretty hardheaded.” Satoru watched you remove the thin foil wrapped around the top of the wine, insert a corkscrew, and twist it with great expertise. One certainly didn’t need a master’s degree to open wine, but he couldn’t help but wonder if you often sought the solution to your woes at the bottom of an alcoholic beverage until it ran dry.

“Yeah, I’m pretty stubborn, but I’m not a devil, and I’m not angry with you or anything, so why not?” Pressing the bottle to your lips, you took a sip, letting the earthy flavors slip down your tongue and throat. Gently, you gulped. “At the end of the day, I wanna talk. I’m curious about you too.”

“Right, well, I have a hard time believing that, considering you just said you’d kill me and not feel a thing, huh?”

“That’s just life. Nothing personal.” Your hand held the neck of the bottle as you passed it to Satoru. He thought about you both passing a juice box back and forth in a similar way to this, once upon a time.

“So, did you actually have something you wanted to talk about, or are you just stalling before your comrades get here?” Your distrustful eyes stared at the side of his pale, moonlit face as you spoke. “Nevermind. Dumb question. You wouldn’t need backup. You’re the strongest, so I’ve heard.”

“Earlier, I asked you why you killed those people, and you said you didn’t have a choice. Care to elaborate?” Satoru spoke as if you had said nothing only moments before, and it was crystal clear that his mind was elsewhere, and there, it would stay, until he found the answer to why his old best friend became a curse user. A murderer.

“Not really,” your mouth stretched as a yawn escaped you.

“Care to try?”

“There’s nothing to tell. You were born to be who you are now, a damn hero or whatever, and I was born to do . . . this.”

“Do you honestly believe something as stupid as that?” Satoru took a sip of the wine. His face scrunched up as if the beverage was both poison and yet, an antidote to his problems. “Own up to what you’ve done. Don’t blame it on your birth or the way you were raised. I knew your parents. They were good people-”

“They were good people, and that’s what got them killed,” you interrupted. The air was as thick with tension as it was with dust. You sighed. You took the wine bottle back from him, taking a sip before you spoke — softer, this time. “Listen, if we’re just going to sit here and talk about my sins, then I’m gonna leave.”

“The last time I saw you, you were crying because you accidentally squashed a ladybug, can you blame me for wondering what happened to you? What turned you into a curse user? And you still haven’t told me where you’ve been before now.”

“I’ve been right here.”

“That’s not true.”

“Oh yeah? And how would you know?”

“I know because I did look for you even though you told me not to.” Satoru’s voice was shaky but his tone was undoubtedly sincere. It was impossible to deny that his words were honest. “I looked everywhere. As soon as I got your letter, I destroyed it, and ever since, I’ve followed every trail and clue that I thought would lead me to you. Every time I traveled to a different country for a mission, I wondered if you were there. I spent the rest of my childhood, my teenage years, and my early twenties looking for you, until I realized the only reason it was so difficult was because you didn’t want to be found.”

The floor became your new point of focus. You stared holes into creaky wooden boards, processing Satoru’s words. “Why didn’t you say that earlier? I had no idea.”

“Would it have made a difference?” Satoru hooked his finger underneath his blindfold and pulled at it casually for a moment, playing with it. Neither one of you touched the wine bottle. “So, after covering your tracks all this time, why didn’t you cover them now? You wanted to get caught, right? Why?”

“I don’t know,” you mumbled.

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Oh my god, you’re annoying.” You released a light breath of air in both humor and frustration. “After all these years, you’re still annoying as hell.”

“Damn right I am,” Satoru smiled as he looked over at you, and, surprisingly, not only did you glance over at him, but you smiled too — which made his heart skip a beat — and it wasn’t one of your false grins from earlier, but a genuine, heartwarming smile.

Satoru couldn’t help but stare at the beautiful expression on your lips.

“Hey, can you take off your blindfold?”

Your question made his eyes dart from your mouth to your curious gaze.

“Hm? Why?”

“I wanna see your entire face. Just for a minute,” you said.

A faint memory of little ‘Toru slumping around and complaining about his severe headaches crossed your mind. Your mother would make him rest on the couch right behind you both, close his eyes, and she’d place a wet towel across his forehead. You figured that was what the blindfold was for.

Satoru hooked his finger around his blindfold — the top of it this time — and pulled the black cloth down his face. He was going to let it dangle around his neck with the intention of placing it back over his eyes momentarily, but suddenly, your fingers were curling around it. You pulled it across his neck and head, taking it off of him.

He watched you with amused, yet curious bright blue eyes. You tugged the cloth around your own eyes, adjusting the blindfold until it sat perfectly on your face.

“I can’t see a thing, what the hell,” you said, glancing around though your vision amounted to nothing except darkness.

During such an ordinary moment, Satoru discovered something about himself.

Though he admired your irresistible voice, captivating smile, and pretty lips, there was something — something — so incredibly intoxicating about seeing you wear his blindfold. More intoxicating than the wine.

God, he could barely handle it.

He shifted his position. It might have looked like he was simply uncomfortable sitting on the hard floor despite the blanket serving as a bit of cushion, but in all actuality, he was trying to prevent his cock from hardening against the fabric of his pants.

But he couldn’t do a damn thing about the light shade of pink that dusted across his cheeks.

He half-heartedly hoped you’d keep the blindfold on so you wouldn’t notice, but you soon took it off, handing it back.

When you tossed the little black thing to him, your eyes locked with his. Yours widened a bit. Distant moonlight reflected off of your eyes as you did so. Shocked, you seemed.

Satoru felt like an exposed nerve. Had you suddenly realized what was happening? Had his blushing face revealed his secrets; that he wanted to both kiss you as hard as he could and fuck you, right here, as you wore his blindfold?

Suddenly, you started to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Satoru asked.

“Nothing, nothing, it’s just the alcohol, I’m sorry.” You shook your head. It was a lame excuse, considering you hadn’t had enough wine to feel tipsy. “It’s just that, uh, in the kindest way possible, you turned out to be way more handsome than I expected.”

“Excuse me?” Satoru raised his brows, amusingly pretending to be more offended than he actually was.

“I’m sorry, but as a kid . . . you were kinda funny-looking. You had . . . like . . .” Putting your hands up nearest your head, you spread them apart, emphasizing that, in your opinion, little ‘Toru had a really big head.

“Okay, so you thought I was the ugliest person to ever exist, good to know,” Satoru playfully shoved your hands down.

“Oh my god, I didn’t say that. You’re so dramatic,” you laughed, and he joined in on your joyous little chuckle.

After a few moments, the sound of laughter drifted off into a comfortable silence. Your eyes met your lap, but Satoru couldn’t bring himself to glance away from you as he questioned, “You have anyone in your life that you care for? Any loved ones?”

“Nope. Just me,” you mumbled.

“Sounds lonely.”

“What about you, then?”

“I care about my students. One of them I’ve looked after since he was a kid. I have a couple of friends, but aside from that, I think it’s safe to say that I’m lonely too. Pathetic, right?”

“Pathetic, but unsurprising,” you shrugged. “Now I get why we’re both talking to each other right now. Who else do we have?”

After all, being a god and being a devil — being an Honored One and being a Disgraced One — were both lonely businesses.

Suddenly, you got up off of the raggedy blanket, nearly knocking over the wine as you rushed into the kitchen.

“Where are you going?” Satoru asked, his eyes following your urgent movements.

“I’ll be right back.”

Momentarily, you returned. You cradled two small white bags in your arms, and upon recognizing what it happened to be, Satoru both scoffed and laughed.

“Snacks? You brought snacks?”

“Well, yeah, I planned to hide out here for a while,” you tossed Satoru a bag of Goldfish crackers. “There you go. Bon appetite or whatever.”

The old floor croaked as you sat back down on the blanket. Gentle squeaks of your bag being opened filled the air, but Satoru hadn’t yet opened his.

“You can have that bag, ‘Toru. Don’t be shy. These things are hard to find.”

“No, here,” Satoru reached out, bag in hand. “If you’re gonna be on the run for a while, I’m not gonna make things harder on you by eating what little food you packed.”

“What?” You froze, nearly dropping the Goldfish crackers within your grasp. “You’re letting me go?”

“There’s no other option. You don’t wanna turn yourself in, I can’t make myself kill you, so . . .” Satoru sighed. Though he too had what most would consider childish taste buds, he had no desire to eat any Goldfish crackers. He did, however, reach for the much-needed wine bottle. “I’m gonna regret this tomorrow. Maybe the higher-ups will fire me and I can finally go on a decent vacation. I’m thinking the Bahamas, what do you think? I could use a little sun-”

“Hey,” you interrupted. “You know just as well as I do that if you wanted to overpower me without killing me and turn me over to the higher-ups, I couldn’t stop you. One twist of the ankle, and I’m all yours. Don’t tell me you can’t even bring yourself to hurt me a little.”

Satoru pressed the wine against his lips, swallowed a tiny sip, then spoke.

“I don’t necessarily want to see you locked away either, assuming they won’t go ahead and kill you for what you’ve done lately. They’ve executed for less,” Satoru's face grew long, those powerful eyes of his filled with sadness. “You should leave.”

“Thank you, Toru.”

A beat of silence passed. Neither one of you moved from your spots. Instead, you swallowed half a handful of goldfish.

“Maybe you didn’t hear me,” Satoru blinked. “I said you should leave . . . I mean now.”

“I’m not ready to leave right this second,” you grabbed Satoru’s hand, flipped it over, and poured a few pieces of Goldfish crackers into his palm. “I’ve missed you, ya know? Who knows if I’ll ever see you again?”

“So, when you said you’d kill me and not feel anything, that was a lie, right?”

“You keep bringing that up. Did I hurt your feelings?”

“Of course you did. Don’t let my ego fool you,” Satoru smiled. “I’m a little sensitive.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, it was a lie. I can’t kill someone and not feel a thing, and you wouldn’t be an exception.”

“Tell me why you killed four people,” Satoru faced you, but, yet again, your eyes weren’t on him. “Why did you say you didn’t have a choice?”

“Stop asking me about that.” You tossed a few more of the tiny crackers into your mouth before folding the bag shut.

“Sorry,” Satoru said.

“You’re not gonna keep prying?”

“Not if it’ll make you leave quicker.” Satoru couldn’t stand it — your pretty eyes on anything and everything except him. He gently cupped your chin, turned your head in his direction, and said, “I like getting to know you all over again, even if it isn’t pretty. I can’t believe I’m gonna lose you in a few minutes.”

“It doesn’t have to be in a few minutes. I could stay longer,” you spoke softly. There was something about looking into his eyes that made your insides crumble. You found yourself rather grateful that he hadn’t yet put his blindfold back on.

Satoru ran his thumb over your lips. Those gifted eyes of his might have the power to deliver extraordinary information to him, but right now, all they did was convey his greatest desires to you as they repeatedly darted down to your soft lips.

“I could stay . . . maybe a few hours. When do you have to report back?” You whispered.

“In a few hours.”

Satoru leaned in, pressing soft kisses along your neck. He had planned on being gentle, but when the softest moan fell from between your pretty lips, he couldn’t help but suck on the skin. Nibble at it. Do any and every little thing that would make your sweet noises even louder as his large hands gripped your hair.

The sorcerer had a dream; he wanted to worship every inch of you. He wanted to taste your perfect skin, memorize the way it felt against his lips, but you were both pressed for time.

Damn it all.

His grip on your hair tightened as he trailed his lips across your collarbones, but he came to an abrupt stop when your shirt prevented him from going any lower.

“Take this off,” he demanded.

Though the command was for you, he hooked his fingers around your top and pulled it off, leaving you in nothing except your bra — Satoru’s cock started to harden in his pants again. He was rather certain he could and, perhaps, would, cum from the sight of you, topless, underneath the moonlight pouring through the window.

You expected to feel his lips on you again. It was quite a surprise when, instead, he practically lifted you and placed your back on the soft blanket. He moved in between your legs, his body hovering over yours until his clothed cock was pressed against you.

“‘Toru,” You spoke, breathless, as the sight of his gorgeous face above yours rendered you nearly speechless. “What are we doing?”

“Saying goodbye,” He said.

“It’s dusty in here. Aren’t you worried about your allergies?”

“I don’t have any allergies,” Satoru gave a humored smile, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.”

“You’re driving me crazy,” Satoru shook his head, but his grin never faded, nor would it.

Well, for the next five seconds, at least, because he started to grind, and gentle moans poured from him as soon as he rubbed his dick against your clothed pussy.

“Faster, go faster,” you gripped his white strands of hair.

His only response came in the form of a groan escaping his throat. He couldn’t speak just yet. He could only increase his speed. Never did he think he would start to come undone from simply grinding against you, but it was you.

Satoru moved his hands down to your thighs, his large hands gripping them and holding them apart in an attempt to grind himself harder against your clit. He didn’t mean to be so rough, to risk leaving bruises on your delicate skin, but he couldn’t fucking help it.

“You’re gonna make me cum right in my pants. They’re brand new,” Satoru whispered in your ear. You felt his breath against the shell of it, then suddenly, his teeth gave it a small nibble, followed by a slow lick with his warm tongue. “I think I’d rather cum inside of you. ‘s that crazy?”

This time, it was your turn to offer moaning as a form of response.

“What’s the matter?” He cooed. “Can’t answer me, baby?”

He released one of your thighs. That hand raised you up just a little, enough for Satoru to unhook your bra, drag the straps along your arms, and toss it across the living room.

His hand made its way to one of your nipples. He rubbed it with his thumb.

“‘Toru, please,” you whined.

“Please what? I can’t read minds.” He smirked yet again. Oh, was he enjoying this. “You had the audacity to become a curse user, but you can’t find the nerve to tell me what you want right now?”

Satoru adjusted himself, moving lower and lower until his mouth hovered over your other nipple. He wanted so desperately to toy with you longer, but you were tantalizing. His tongue was flicking at your nipple without a second thought. He latched his mouth around it, sucking, sucking, and sucking.

His hand had a mind of its own, unbuttoning your pants and running his fingers across your underwear, dancing over your covered clit until the fabric of your panties was soaked.

How, just how was he supposed to let you go after this?

“You’re such a damn tease,” you could feel the tips of his fingers gently apply pressure to your clit. “That’s . . . all I gotta say.”

“Oh?” He was quick to snatch his hand away from your clit, and his mouth away from your nipple. Though he would have preferred to simply die than do either. “You’re saying you don’t want me to fuck you then, right?”

“Careful,” your moonlit eyes met his. “If you do, you might get too attached, and you won’t be able to let me go.”

There it was. That stubborn, bratty behavior he was madly addicted to.

“Then let’s make a deal,” Satoru leaned up, taking off his zip-up jacket. He then started to unbuckle his pants. “If I cum first, we go our separate ways. If you cum first, I’m thinking . . . I’ll go with you.”

“Wait, are you serious? You’d really go with me?” You propped yourself up, your elbows digging into the blanket underneath your back. “You’d throw away your entire career and ruin your reputation for a curse user you’ve been reunited with for an hour?”

“It’s only been an hour, huh?” Satoru paused, looking into your eyes as he shrugged off your shoes, pants, and your underwear. “An hour means nothing when I’ve loved you my entire life.”

His blue eyes darted across your face. They were gathering information. Searching for even the slightest twitch or sparkle in your gaze to understand how you processed his confession.

But there was no need. Your words were a brutal reflection of your feelings.

“Those are pretty words, but I don’t believe you.”

Satoru sighed, but he smiled. After all, he knew you, and he had expected those words, albeit a bit heartbreaking, to fall from your lips.

“Then I’ll just shut up and show you.” Satoru reached for his blindfold that had gotten mixed up in the pile of your discarded clothes.

The sound of angelic moans and wooden floorboards creaking underneath you and Satoru’s thrusting weight was much too loud, considering you were supposed to be hiding out. But it couldn’t be helped — his big cock stuffed your insides with every bump of his hips, and you couldn’t see a damn thing.

The white-haired man tugged his blindfold over your eyes right before he entered you, which was a wildly stupid move on his part, being that seeing you wearing it earlier is what led to him wanting to fuck you in the first place. Therefore, putting it on you when he was trying to use all his unimaginable strength to hold back his brewing orgasm wasn’t the wisest decision.

Not that your idiotic deal mattered.

He wasn’t foolish enough to truly rest such an important fate on his ability to not cum as soon as he sunk his cock into your awaiting pussy; his mind was already made. Nothing would stop him from going with you. Nothing.

“Damn it,” Satoru’s eyelids fluttered closed. “I can’t stand you. You’re gonna make me cum already.”

God, you were utterly perfect. His hard dick was soaked in your sweet juices, and with every pump, your tight hole seemed to not want to let him go, as if it was on a mission to milk him for all he was worth. His balls felt heavy, though his legs felt as if they were going weak. He was close, so close to shooting his pearly white load deep inside of you.

But you were the one starting to become undone.

You started to squirm around, back arching off of the ground, nails digging into the flesh of Satoru’s muscular back. That damned Honored One knew what he was doing when he put his blindfold on you. Having no sight forced you to focus your other senses on the way his cock stimulated your sweet spot, weighty balls slapped against your ass, and delicious moans gushed into your ear.

“I-I can’t, ‘Toru, I . . .”

“What are you blabbering about now, sweetheart?” Satoru moved his head a little ways lower. His tongue ran from your jaw, across your cheek, and stopped right beneath the blindfold. There, he kissed you.

His question was answered in the form of a toe-curling orgasm suddenly possessing your body. Shouts of his name spewed from your lips like a prayer, and that? That was all it took for his own orgasm to overtake him as well.

“Look at you, cumming all over me,” he hooked his hands underneath your trembling knees, shoving your legs back. “I’m right there too. Hold still. I want you to feel every last drop of it.”

The end of his sentence started to trail off into a whisper as he started to cum. And he could only moan and cum. Cum and moan.

“Fuck- oh, fuck,” He shoved every inch of his dick inside of you, rhythmically rocking his hips again, fucking his seed into you deeply. “That’s it. Take it. You’re so perfect . . . perfect for me.”

The last droplets of his cum were still filling your insides when Satoru’s phone started to ring. It was an obnoxious disruption that made you whine with great annoyance, and Satoru sighed. But, after all, he was still on a mission.

He didn’t yet fully pull out, but he leaned up, took the blindfold off of you, and patted around in the mess of your bundled clothing for his cell phone.

“Who is it?” You asked tiredly.

The phone screen illuminated his frowning face much like the moonlight did yours.

“A bunch of fools,” he mumbled.

Satoru answered the call — he had no choice.

“What?” he pressed the phone against his ear, grimacing at the sound of a higher-up’s voice.

You couldn’t make out what the caller was saying, but Satoru’s disinterested facial expressions told the story of a sorcerer getting scolded like a child.

“Yeah . . . I know . . .” Satoru ran his hand over your nude upper body, toying absentmindedly with one of your tits. His thumb graced your nipple, and trying not to moan was a challenge you lost.

“Shhh,” he frowned down at you, pulling the phone away from his ear momentarily.

He adjusted his position. That, in turn, made him drive his cock deeper into your slick walls, which ejected a sharp, loud moan from you. Satoru Gojo was a smirking asshole, and that asshole shoved two of his fingers in your mouth, silencing you, all before bucking his hips again.

“No, I haven’t found her yet, but don’t worry, she’s-” he thrusted again, “close.”

Suddenly, Satoru’s face changed from a cocky grin to one of disappointment. His grip on his cell phone tightened.

“You want me to come back? Right now? But what about the-” The caller interrupted Satoru, who pulled both his fingers out of your mouth, and his cock out of your pussy.

Whoever was speaking to the sorcerer wasn’t yet done talking, but that didn’t stop Satoru from rolling his eyes and promptly ending the phone call.

“What’s going on?” You sat up, reaching for your bra.

“This entire thing is just one big shit show.” Satoru grabbed his pants as he continued, “I have to give a mid-mission report to those stupid old fools because they don’t trust me.”

“Well, in their defense, you did just kinda fuck me, and you’re planning on letting me go,” you smiled.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. We weren’t finished.” Satoru scrunched up your top, pulling it down over your head and across your chest for you. “So much for our reunion, but at least I got to fuck a curse user. Still, though. I had big plans.”

“Such as?”

“Oh, you know,” he suddenly rested his hand on your pussy, giving it a gentle pat. “Eating you out. Guess I’ll just have to hurry back.”

“You’re coming back? That dumb deal wasn’t a joke?” You shook your head, putting your feet through your underwear. “No. I can’t let you throw your life away. You’re crazy.”

As Satoru finished dressing, he spoke, “You came before all of it. You were there before I could even spell the word jujutsu. I regretted not putting you first my entire life for years now, and I won’t make that mistake again. I promise, so, shut up.”

He stood up. Leaning down, he pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead, noting the look of distrust in your eyes.

“I know you don’t believe me, but I’ll be right back, alright?” He planted another kiss on your soft cheek. “Wait here.”

And, with that, Satoru was gone, leaving you alone on the blanket in the dusty living room of your deceased parents.

There, in the darkness, your only source of light being what the moon had to offer, you pulled both the bottle of wine and your Goldfish crackers closer to you. Despite your lack of belief that the World’s Strongest Sorcerer would return, you waited.

—

TWO HOURS LATER

—

The higher-ups talked endlessly, and by the time they wrapped up their impromptu meeting, Satoru had decided that he would soon murder every single one of them.

Only towards the end of the meeting did they inform him that he was no longer assigned to the mission of capturing or killing you, but other sorcerers were dispatched to your exact location.

Other sorcerers who didn’t plan on capturing you at all.

Other sorcerers who had been sent to your hideout 45 minutes prior.

He returned to your parent’s abandoned home as quickly as he could, standing in the patchy grass of the front yard, but it was much too late. The cursed energy that radiated from the destroyed property made him go weak at the knees. And, oh, was it destroyed.

The front door was ripped from its hinges. The living room window was shattered, surrounding walls crumbled to ruins, and he could see where the blanket you had both made love on just hours prior used to be. The couch you both leaned your backs against while chatting with wine and snacks was now split in half. Foam covered the blood-soaked floor.

He could see all of that from the front yard.

Going into your parent’s house made the sight significantly worse.

You locked eyes with him.

Relief flooded his senses, his lips nearly upturning into a smile.

That was, until he trailed his eyes down and saw that nothing remained of you except your upper body.

Below your chest was a horrifying mess of human destruction — blood, guts, and pieces of bone and flesh from body parts he could no longer identify.

Satoru’s entire body trembled violently. How . . . just how the hell could a sorcerer kill someone so brutally?

He’d figure out who did this to you. He’d kill them too. He’d make it fucking hurt. He’d-

His eyes caught sight of the familiar white bag in your grasp. Splotches of blood coated the smiling orange goldfish on the front of the snack bag. You were holding it against your chest, and unfortunately, your childhood friend knew you all too well, and you weren’t looking to swallow one last handful of Goldfish crackers moments before your death.

Satoru crouched down beside what could not even be considered half of your body.

When teardrops splattered on the scarred skin of your arm, only then did he realize he had been crying.

He had to yank your lifeless hand away from the bag as gently as he could. There was nothing on it when he turned it over in his palms, but when he opened the top and peered inside, there was a folded piece of paper.

He didn’t want to read it.

He wanted you to be here.

Brimming hot, angry tears blurred his vision, but he pulled the letter out of the bag, unfolded it with shaky hands he couldn’t wait to wrap around someone’s neck, and he read your final words.

Dear Toru,

Sorcerers are surrounding the house. It’s only a matter of time before they come inside and find me, so I apologize for my messy handwriting. I’m trying to write fast.

I could fight back, and maybe, just maybe, I’d win and I could find you and we could run away together, but you mentioned that you had students and friends who were also sorcerers, and for all I know, they could be the ones who are here right now. I won’t kill anyone who might be important to you.

I can hear someone outside arguing for me to be arrested rather than killed. He sounds young…a naive teenage boy, maybe. I appreciate him.

Satoru, you asked me why I killed four people today. Well, I did it to avenge my parents. After all these years, I found the group of bastards who murdered them. Now you know. I didn’t want you to spend the rest of your life wondering.

I’m sorry about this. I really am. We found each other again, and we have to say goodbye already. It sucks. It isn’t fair.

Please, don’t try to avenge me. Don’t ruin your life for me. I’m not worth it.

I can hear them coming to the front door, so I should wrap this up. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t afraid to die. I’m scared. I’m alone.

I love you, ‘Toru.

Sincerely, your “wife” (remember that?) & childhood friend

Satoru folded the letter and tucked it into his pocket, or, at least, he thought he did. He no longer felt in control of his own movements. He wasn’t certain if he was moving at all. Or blinking. Or breathing.

But he was.

He moved your head onto his lap, trying to gently scrape away the flakes of dried blood on your face. Satoru couldn’t speak — grief had snatched his voice away — but even if uttering a few words was a possibility, he wasn’t certain he could make the promise of respecting your dying wish to not seek vengeance.

All he could do was lean forward and plant a kiss on your forehead. Then, he ran his fingertips across your eyelids, closing your lifeless eyes, which the moonlight still shined upon.

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yungistiny · 4 months ago

Text

rage mode

[ J. Yunho ]

╚═════════

summary: in which yunho’s roommate likes to test his patience

warning: pissed off yunho, brat reader, slight audophilia, wooyoung is a little perv, slight choking, spanking, unprotected sex

pairing: gamer yunho x afab reader

genre: smut

word count: 2.2k

part two

masterlist

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

“Damn it, y/n, stop fucking killing me!”

Yunho’s voice sounded beyond annoyed, borderline completely pissed off. You could hear it in the way there was a slight growl undertone in his deep, tired voice. It was well past midnight, himself and his two roommates along with some of their friends had been playing this new online co op game for the last… 4…. 5 hours? Honestly, Yunho had lost track of the time.

“That’s what you get for getting me killed earlier.” Y/N replied back, her voice filled with amusement and dripping with pettiness. Yunho had half a mind to pause the game, march across the hall to her bedroom and unplug her pc. She had been nonstop killing him for the last hour or so and Yunho was starting to reach his breaking point.

“It’s not fucking funny, y/n! And it wasn’t my fault you and Wooyoung are using the same character.” Yunho snapped into his headset. He had even told his two roommates that choosing the same character to play as would be confusing for everyone and a bad idea. Did they listen? Of fucking course they didn’t. “Y/N, I swear to god!” He growled, avoiding just being shot once again.

“Swear to god,” Yunho could practically hear the smirk she had as y/n teased him, sniping his player with quick precision, a frustrated snarl echoing in her ears from her headset as Yunho was clearly pissed. “what would your mother say?”

“Could you two like… I don’t care, fuck and shut up already?” Jongho was tired of their back and forth bickering. He could practically feel the tension between the two and he was three blocks away in his own apartment.

Yunho and Y/N both shut up, their silence suddenly very loud and noticeable. “Well that shut them the fuck up.” Wooyoung was snickering, San and Jongho both joining him. Both his roommates probably thought Wooyoung was oblivious to their little tryst they had going on but their walls were thin and y/n was very vocal.

“It’s after 2:00 am, I promised Seonghwa I’d meet him for lunch tomorrow.” Y/N was lying straight through her teeth but the guys were none the wiser as she left the game. Yunho sighed in relief to not have her constantly up his ass, actually being able to try and explore the new game and have fun without getting killed every few minutes.

Yunho was so focused in the game now he didn’t see y/n open her bedroom door across the hall, he himself had left his bedroom door open. Y/N glanced down the hall towards Wooyoung’s, his door was shut and she could hear him yelling at Jongho over something in the game. Dropping to her knees, y/n smirked, biting her bottom lip as she crawled quietly across the carpeted floor into Yunho’s room.

She paused a second, taking in his big frame in sitting slightly hunched over in his gaming chair, completely focused on the game, the clicking of the keyboard and mouse loud. The only thing he had on clothing wise was a pair of baggy gray sweatpants. His headset sat atop his messy dyed dirty blonde hair.

Yunho couldn’t hear her movements over Wooyoung and Jongho now the ones arguing in the game through his headset, but he certainly felt her when she brushed against his leg, crawling under his desk. He looked down at her as the game was on the load screen, y/n peeking up at him now between his legs. “What are you doing?” He mouthed so the others wouldn’t hear over the headset.

Y/N only smirked at him. This was payback for not only getting her killed in the game but how he left her edged and on the brink of orgasm the day before. They had gotten into an argument in the living room, something about someone going into Yunho’s room and turning off his pc while he had a game paused.

An argument that eventually lead to Yunho having y/n bent over the couch, a hand gripping her hair, head pulled back as he was hitting it from behind, the lewd noises loud, echoing in the apartment along with y/n loud cries and moans mixed with Yunho’s filthy words.

“You do that shit on purpose, don’t you?” His hand came down hard on her ass causing y/n to jolt forward and giving Yunho the perfect opportunity to grip her waist and yank her back, dick thrusting all the way back inside her aching, edged cunt. “Fucking brat.”

His hand was tangled back in her hair, yanking her up, y/n back against his chest just as keys could be heard at the front door. Yunho had pulled out of her and darted to his room, trying not to trip over his own feet. Y/N had snatched her discarded clothes up and darted to her own room just before Wooyoung walked through the door.

Yunho clenched his jaw as y/n glided her hands up his legs, fingers grazing his bellybutton before dipping into the waistband of his pants and pulling them back just enough to be able to pull his hardening dick free.

His dick always betrayed him when it came to her. “This is what you get for leaving me to finish myself yesterday.” She wrapped her hand around him, working a steady rhythm up and down his length until Yunho had to bite his lip to keep from moaning, his dick now fully hard and aching to be buried inside her, mouth, pussy, he wasn’t picky.

“Dude, you good?” Jongho asked when a deep moan escaped Yunho, echoing in his friend’s ears through their headsets when y/n tongue started licking at his tip, hand still jerking him, thumb tracing a prominent vein that had Yunho almost whimpering.

“I…. I yeah… I just stubbed my toe under…. my desk.” It was a terrible lie and it wouldn’t be a good enough excuse to cover up the almost growl that left him when y/n removed her hand to bring his entire length into her mouth, his tip hitting the back of her throat and causing her to gag at the fullness and stretch.

“Ok, what the hell?” This time it was San who called him out. Yunho switched his movements from the mouse to the keyboard, using one hand to continue playing while reaching down to tangle his other hand into y/n hair, gripping it and gaining control, making her slow down the sudden messy, gagging, bob of her head on his dick. “Wooyoung, you just ran right into that fucking sniper!” Yunho ignored San, heart racing, that familiar tightness in his stomach growing.

How Yunho managed to play with one hand y/n had no idea but then again, he was annoyingly good at everything. She could feel he was close, his dick twitching against her tongue as he continued to move her head, fucking her mouth at a steady pace as he continued playing the game. He was biting his bottom lip so hard to keep from making anymore noise, it would be suspicious if he just muted his mic, his friends are nosy and would ask questions.

Suddenly, a loud “FUCK!” left Jongho when his player was killed, loud enough to muffle the deep moan that left Yunho as he came, y/n swallowing every last drop of his release, tears slightly forming at the crease of her eyes due to Yunho pushing her head down as far as he could get her, y/n nose pressed against pelvis.

Yunho released the grip he had on her, his hand moving to cover his mouth as his breathing came out in shallow pants. Y/N gasped for her own breath, wiping at her face before crawling up into Yunho’s lap. He had to mute his mic then. “Are you fucking serious right now? Wooyoung is literally down the hall, my door is open and…”

“Shut up.” Y/N rolled her eyes at him because she honestly just didn’t give a shit anymore. They’d been sneaking around for over two months now and she was tired. So what if their friends found out? The worst they’d do is tease them before finding something else to throw dumb jokes at. “Besides…” she smirked, reaching without Yunho seeing her to unmute his mic. “you’re already getting hard again.”

If Yunho would just look at his computer screen he’d notice the way his friends players were no longer moving. If he wasn’t so distracted by the taste of himself lingering on y/n tongue as she kissed him, he probably would of noticed how Wooyoung, San and Jongho had all grown dead silent through his headset.

“Wait…” Yunho pulled his headset off, carelessly placing it onto his desk, pausing his game. He’d tell the guys he had to use the bathroom or something, whatever. He’d make something up. “Take this off.” He was pulling at y/n shirt, helping her take it off, tossing it behind him somewhere on the floor in his room.

Of course she had no fucking bra on, Yunho dove in, arms wrapping around her, helping y/n to get some friction through her pajama shorts against his dick as he pulled one of her nipples into his mouth.

“No teasing, you did enough of that yesterday.” Y/N pulled at his hair, yanking his head back, Yunho’s lips so plump, face flushed, ears red. “Just fuck me.” Yunho was so lost in her, the mere thought of having his dick buried inside her that he completely forgot his door was open, still no idea that his mic was not on mute.

“Look at you” Yunho was smirking now, hands gripping her waist to hold her still. “so desperate for my dick you almost got us caught.”

Almost? Y/N refrained from smirking back at his cluelessness, instead putting on her best pleading face, lips pouting, moaning his name as she could feel him, hard, pressing against her aching cunt through the silky lilac fabric of her shorts. “Come on, please…” She barely ever begged but she was damn horny. Another reason why she liked to push his buttons, angry Yunho was a complete turn on for her.

Yunho let her go, nodding his head at her as y/n was quick to crawl off his lap and remove her shorts, him lifting his hips in his chair just enough to give space to shove his sweatpants on down his legs, kicking them under his desk. “Ride me.” Yunho’s voice dropped, so deep it had y/n clenching around nothing as he guided her back to straddling him.

Yunho gripped a hand against one of the little arms of his gaming chair to help steady them as y/n own hands pulled herself up using his shoulder for leverage, Yunho’s other hand reaching to help guide his dick into her, moans leaving them both as he filled her to the hilt. Both of Yunho’s hands went to grip at her hips, y/n own going to tug at his hair, the other around his throat.

“Why are we still listening?” San exclaimed over his headset. The lewd noises echoing in their ears from Yunho’s end made it very clear what was going on. “Because it’s fucking hot.” Wooyoung stated, practically whimpering towards the noises of his roommates.

“Wooyoung, you fucking freak.” Jongho teased him before clearing his throat as a rather loud moan escaped Yunho, y/n name on his lips. “Dude, go do something! They’re your roommates.” He could go and tell them to shut the fuck up. The sound of them together a little too hot for all three of them listening. They all had a boner.

“Fuck…. you always feel me up so…. good….” Y/N was a gasping, crying mess. Legs shaking, breathless. She could feel her orgasm ready to burst with every touch of Yunho’s dick hitting her g spot. Her stomach was in knots, eyes practically crossed as he held her arms behind her, using his knees as leverage to pound into her from where she straddled him in his gaming chair.

Yunho was close too, thrusting sloppy and fast, kissing at any part of her skin he could reach from his position. “So fucking good….. so fucking good for me…” he was mumbling, moaning, whining against her throat.

“Mine.” He pulled back, smirking, pupils blown. “My brat.” Two more deep thrusts and y/n was coming with his name a scream ringing from her lips. Four more thrusts and Yunho was coming, filling her so fucking full his legs shook.

They both yelled, Yunho groaning when he broke the fall as their movements caused the chair to rock off balance, plummeting them both to the floor. Yunho’s arms were wrapped tightly around y/n, dick sliding out of her as she slipped up his body. Both of them were panting, breathless, both from post orgasm and the fall.

“Holy shit…” Wooyoung was standing in the doorway, gaze dark as he had been watching them from Yunho’s open bedroom door. It’s not like he meant to, he was gonna knock on Yunho’s door but then… well… he couldn’t fucking look away. His roommates were so fucking hot together. He knew they had to of noticed the prominent hard bulge in his loose black pajama pants.

“You guys want a third?”

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

note: am I putting together a gamer yunho full story? well yes!

tag list: @autieofthevalley @hannahlilibet411 @lovinjjong @wisejudgedragonhairdo @soupbinlily @georgeanabanana @yunyuniverse @minkioswoo @ateezswonderland @thuyting @hum4n-e4ter @atinyyuyu @zerefdragn33l

#yunho #jeong yunho #yunho x y/n #yunho x reader #yunho smut #ateez #ateez fic #ateez fanfic

1K notes · View notes

dilf-docs · 4 months ago

Text

I Can Fix Her (No Really I Can)

jackson!joel miller x younger fem!reader

summary: jackson's loud mouthed spoiled princess has suddenly gone quiet. what or who could be behind such miracle?

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (20s/50s), pwp, p. in v., oral (m. and f. receiving), brat taming, dacryphilia, pussy spanking, fingering, humiliation kink, dom!joel, sub!joel if u squint, soft!joel (look at that switch sandwhich fr), brat!reader (she's annoying and v mean, you've been warned), denial is a river so take this before the world mourns joel miller again

word count: 5,391 words

side note: new layout my citizens! will eventually update all of the blog but as for now, enjoy this one and the masterlist. quick thing, i just wanted to say that i had a very shitty week and for the life of me, can't find a way to make ttdik pt. 4 not oversaturated with angst bc i wish all men a very pleasant die or how to connect what i've written so far. note that this was kinda rushed; i feel confident of some parts and not the whole thing. just hoping it works for y'all! (based on this request)

Joel Miller isn't who he used to be before.

Life in Jackson has made him... soft. This version of him, tired of a life of killing and running, tainted with blood and regret. But he's now an uncle and a father. Well, used to be. Ever since Ellie had found out the truth and wanted nothing to do with him, he had somewhat become downright pathetic. Joel could be both Jackson's most useful man, even at his age, while also being their biggest wretch. Ah, yes: Joel Miller, the man who lived in the house down the street, alone and certainly worth the townsfolk's pity.

Maybe that's why you couldn't bother to be nice to him. In your eyes, a man like Joel just didn't deserve your time or respect.

But it wasn't personal, really. He happened to, unfortunately, be in charge of your patrol. That, in your eyes, made him your enemy: a person to be defied and picked apart. And the worst part is, in his current position, Joel just didn't have the energy to fight you back.

"You want me to cross that wearing this?" your protest comes in the form of a whiny pitch. "Ew, no. I'd rather be dead"

At least dead, you wouldn't be a bother. He rolls his eyes, rubbing his face tiredly. The rest of the group watches the interaction in silence, expressions pretty much the same.

"I promise 'cha, princess. Ya' wouldn't want that"

The nickname should irk you, but you let it pass. It is no news to anyone that you are indeed a princess: Jackson's resident little spoiled brat.

Sheltered from early starts of civilization's downfall, maybe your parents had done more bad than good trying to protect you and settling early on in Jackson. You had grown to be a pampered bitch who made Joel's patience wear thin. Of course, to keep him busy and distracted, Tommy had assigned you to Joel. And while he'd rather not spend his days on a house too big for a person, he too wasn't exactly excited about having to deal with you on your patrol shifts.

(If you could call them that. You did anything but patroling)

You cross your arms, petty. "I'm not moving unless you carry me"

Maybe your need to defy him also came, partly, because of this: the way he's looking at you right now, a quiet rage simmering in those big round brown eyes that remind you of a kicked puppy, but when they burn, they seem like a forest fire, old remnants of the hunter that had been tamed by domestic life and a broken relationship resurfacing.

It excites you.

All your life, people seemed to bend to your will-- a force of nature: to your cruel harsh icy wind. You kept Jackson down at their knees, but it wasn't kindness, rather your shoe up their throats what put them to your feet.

Yet, Joel... he could be a loser to you, but he was probably the only one you'd met to be insane enough to defy you. The only man who didn't succumb to your fluttering eyelashes, pink lips and princess manners. No, he ignored the way you looked at him and your constant begging for attention, leaving the job to those men who seemed to follow your every step, ready to be themselves a carpet for you to step in. He'd roll his eyes and walk past you like you were the most bland, boring and uninteresting thing in the world: not worth a second of his attention. Joel simply wouldn't entertain your spoiled attitude past replying to a few snarky comments.

And that revolted and aroused you in equal parts.

It's not like you could escape your obligation, but perhaps, the bigger reason you chose to not skip patrol like you used to before his arrival, is to see Joel Miller's sinking ships for eyes try to wash over your rebel flame.

"Be free to stay then" he replies, but you don't miss the way his grip on his rifle turns white. "I ain't carryin' no one"

"I can carry you" one of the guys from your group offers.

(You can't remember his name)

"Sure" you chuckle, victory smile dancing on your lips at the sight of him looking above his shoulder in a barely stolen glance, thinking you won't notice.

But you do.

Joel Miller fucking hates you.

After five decades alive, he simply can't stand the idea of breathing the same air as a spoiled little brat like you.

Joel's seen destruction, loss, hopelessness and blood up close, and the thought of you walking around like the world owes you a favor fills him with vitriol.

He's been alive for fifty-six years so he's simply just tired. Too tired to give a damn about your attitude, despite how you manage to press all his buttons every time you open your mouth.

He still remembers the first time he met you, how you laughed like people did before all civilization was destroyed. You walked with a confident strut, boots clicking against Jackson's streets, every step made with determination. Like you knew just where you were going.

He envied you, in a way. After Salt Lake City, he seemed to have lost his path, all in the name of love. Then, that warm feeling had turned cold and cruel like all things in this world ravaged by pain, and he felt even at more loss than the first time he experienced grief.

But you? You lived everyday with a dismissal so cold it seemed like nothing could hurt you.

He missed that part of him who just survived: hardened by the world around him.

But Jackson tamed him. Ellie made him soft.

And then you brought up that old dark part of him: the putrid black liquid that spewed through the cracks of his new character that made him loved by Jackson. The same one that made people fear one of Boston QZ's most brutal smugglers. It was that vicious anger, red on his vision like the ichor that would splatter on his clothes or cover his bruised knuckles.

He hated you for it.

But that was in the past, and Joel Miller simply didn't care.

Yet, you made him care. Outright forced him to.

In a way, it seemed like you enjoyed this: the banter of contained rage and practiced patience, dripping as a leak until it overflew. You'd shot your bratty remarks and petty complains until he'd turn around and see you. Then, you'd smile, like that's all you needed to feel better. Far superior. And he hated it. Knew your little game, and fed into it, even as he told himself he wouldn't. Like a drug: a destroying addiction.

Joel didn't understand why you took the time to enrage him, having even heard once when he was late for patrol (he overslept), how you talked bad about the, in your words, Lonely Pathetic Man From The House On The End Of The Road.

Joel Miller has been patient. God knows he has. But he isn't religious, and was never the type to let things pass by.

No. Joel Miller was born with impel, and no matter how many love he had to give, the world around him constantly reminded him of the power hidden behind the exertion over others, how alive he'd felt with the gift he'd been given by heaven.

He isn't patient. He isn't a fool. He isn't pathetic: and Joel Miller will take matters between his rugged hands.

Tommy had arched an eyebrow first, looking at just his and your name on the patrol schedule.

"What's going on?" he narrowed his eyes suspiciously at his brother.

"Found a cabin deep on the forest" curt, "I'ont need lot'a people to scavenge the place"

In the end, he agreed. Who didn't? You, obviously, the reason so many before him had gotten rid of their obligation of you. To flirt with you at the Tipsy Bison? Hell yeah. To have you in their patrol team? God, no.

"Where is everyone else?" you cross your arms above your chest, bracing yourself because of the weather. "Also, isn't this climate not patrol appropiate?"

Joel's not dumb, of course he knows that-- he can feel his aching joints shiver and bones creak because of the temperature. But he also knows he's sick of your shit.

"Ain't you little Ms. Know it all" he mocks, brushing past you, shoulders clashing with the same harsh force the icy breeze does to your face.

"And you're an asshole" you're quick to counter, "bringing us out here in the cold. If you wanted to kill me, you could've made it easier for both of us and done it way back in Jackson"

He rolls his eyes at your incessant bickering.

"Watch y'er mouth" is all he says, the brat hanging dangerously close to the tip of his tongue.

"I'd rather watch my step, thank you very much" you purse your plush pink lips, annoyed. "Have you seen the size of this roots? I will trip and break myself"

He chuckles at your hyperboles and the way you jump in a rather exaggerated manner, more in amusement than irritation.

"Don't think ya' can handle all'at?" Joel taunts. "Gon' break like a doll?"

Doll. It hangs in the air, like the snowflakes that fall into your hair and his eyebrows, the white fusing with his own.

"I'm strong" but it comes out weak.

"Don't seem like it" he's laughing at you again, a sharp annoyed edge to it. "With all that complainin' ya' do"

You huff, your incredulity condescing in the air.

"What's wrong with that?"

"With bein' annoyin'?" Joel quips.

"With voicing out my concerns"

He's walking ahead of you, yet you see his shoulders slump, like he does when he disagrees.

"Those ain't concerns, jus' moanin' and bitchin'"

It's still inside the fun banter you're carrying, harmless, but for some reason, it strikes you in the face.

"If you can't stand me so much, why don't you quit on me, like the others?"

You may seem cold, but there's that cut that always bleeds. Or it may be the need for something that blurs the line between you and those survivors out there who've outlived the worst a man can endure.

Like Joel.

You just can't help wanting it all.

Joel stops on his tracks at your words, response barely above a whisper:

"'Cause I ain't a quitter"

As if that could bring any sense into what had started the moment he layed eyes on you.

You finally reach your destiny in silence, the old cabin hanging by a thread.

"This looks like shit" you comment out loud.

Joel lets out a laugh, a deep rumbling sound coming out of his chest. For a reason, red dust makes it's way into your warm cheeks.

"No, doll. In this world, this ain't shit. It's decent"

You don't miss the way your breath hitches and heart skips a beat at the petname. He doesn't miss the way his tongue burns and his jeans squeeze at the sight of you: powerless.

God, Joel could go to hell for this. (But he'd probably be fine)

"Decent? You're one to talk" it spills out, your fear attacking the only way you know how when you're nervous.

Bite.

You hate feeling weak. You hate how your own game has turned on you.

It seems, Joel Miller isn't just a pathetic man but one who knows how to play.

(You knew this. But now, it's real, not the image you touch yourself to during nighttime, and it's equally both exciting and scary)

The red desire for hunger is there on his eyes. "What's that s'pposed to mean?"

You tilt your head, tone feigning innocence. "I think you know what I mean"

He paces around the room, like your floral scent is too suffocating and the cold isn't enough to shake the fire that burns inside him.

"Spit it" he dares, stopping midtrack. You remain silent, so he walks over to you, face so close, some spit lands in your face. "I said, spit it"

"I think you're pathetic, Joel Miller" yet, for some reason, your heart wavers. What were you even doing? Never had you doubted yourself once, sometimes even finding pleasure in the wicked cutthroat words you'd spew, but today, as his face stands dangerously close to you, his breath ghosting over your lips as his eyes roam over them and you count his wrinkles, it feels wrong.

"'S that what 'cha think, doll?" he chuckles, leaning forward. His lips barely brush against yours by mistake, yet it's enough to send shivers all over your body. "Wanna know what I think? I think you're da' real pathetic burden here. Fucken annoyin' and unuseful. All you know how ta' do is complain' and be a bitch"

"A bitch?" your voice is loud as your roar back, probably because it's coming into your face with the force of a train. But that's how truth feels, and it hurts like hell. "Did you just call me a bitch?"

He laughs, bitterly so, equally irritated as fascinated by how easy it's to see you crumble.

Joel made you out to be this unbreakable force, but at the end of the day, you're human, just like him.

"And y'called me pathetic, s' I guess we're even"

You look crazy: hair disheveled by the wind, chest going up and down and that same craze look on your eyes.

"Fuck you, Joel Miller" you seethe.

It's a simple comeback. No witty retort, no elaborated plot. Just four words, yet it's the way you said it, venomous, with such hostility, like his presence alone made you sick. Your skin crawl. Like the thought alone of being equals couldn't pass through your thick skull, and you had to get rid of just the concept; an ofense.

You pull back, realizing how truly close you were. You then march to the bedroom, slamming the door behind you.

With Joel, there's always a first when it comes to you.

(The first man to catch your attention. The first man to show lack of interest or amusement to your well-known tactics that worked every time. The first man to make your skin crawl like seeing yourself in the mirror. Like you would stare until your image would imprint on your brain, and you'd pick apart every small detail you don't like about you. That was Joel fucking Miller, rolling like thunder, ready to strike over your walls, like he knows where to hit to make you crumble, as if the façade you've built is as much in vain as the hate you carry even with the easy life that's been given to you)

He may be the first man to make you cry.

"Come here!" he shouts, roaring voice reverberating against the walls of the cabin. He swings the door of the bedroom open, finding your satisfied expression as you sit over the old worn out mattress, wiping your tears quickly with a harsh tug of your sweater, coat lying on the dirty floor.

"What?" you ask, as if you hadn't started the fight five seconds ago.

"Ya' think y' can shout and then leave like that?" he spits, "you fucken brat!"

A weird wild spark settles in the pit of your stomach.

"I can do whatever I want"

(The fire. It burns)

He scoffs at your childish response. "Not when y'er under my watch. Like it or not, y'r ma' damn responsability, kid"

Now it's your turn to sneer. "Don't call me that. I'm not a kid"

Of course you fucking weren't: he's got eyes. But goddamn, didn't you act like one all the time?

"Good" his voice adquires a weird tone to it, dropping. "Then strip"

It's like the air's been knocked out of your lungs.

You scoff. "Excuse me?"

"I know you ain't deaf" tone stern, "nor stupid. Are you?"

"Did you just call me stupid?" you raise your voice. Was he going to pull out every single insult from the book? Fair, you think, after you had told him to fuck off in the way you did.

(You were aware your words shoot to kill when you were mad. You had a lot of regrets about that)

"I asked 'cha if ya' were. If there's no answer, I s'ppose that's it"

"I'm not stupid" you counter.

"What?" he's asking you to say it again, like he hasn't heard you.

"You aren't deaf" you repeat his earlier words, eliciting a chuckle out of him.

The windows of the cabin rattle, the cold winter slipping inside the cracks. You shiver yet stand still, not wanting him to misinterpret your body language.

As if you'd ever surrender to him. As if.

"I'm sick of your bullshit" he seethes, "thinkin' ya' can make a clown outta me infront of everyone else, and then look at me like I'm sum piece of meat. Now it's your turn"

"My turn to what?" but this time, your voice wavers. You walk closer, eyelids fluttering.

His uneven breath condensces in the air with a shaky gelid exhale.

"Y'e don't know what you're gettin' into" he warns.

You smile at his barely contained temper. "I think I do"

Joel's body is completely surrounding yours in the bedroom. Before you register, he pulls you by your jaw with his hand.

"Still thinkin' that?" he mocks, thumb pulling your bottom lip down, forcing your mouth open. "Answer me"

But he's pressing his finger on your tongue. You feel yourself starting to drool.

"Ya' really want 'tis, don't 'cha?" his eyes darken, "droolin' like a fucken cockstarved slut. Now strip" his grip tightens, "I won't ask again"

Your body shivers, but no longer because of the temperature drop. A treacherous jolt runs in between your legs at the very first instance of someone putting you in your place. It feels too good to backtrack, but the last remaining drops of sanity plead you to quit.

"Joel" you say his name like a prayer, and he thinks he'd like to see you beg. "I was fucking around-"

"Don't make me repeat myself"

You sit on the edge of the bed, getting rid of your clothes. It's like your mind has stopped working and your body belongs to someone else.

But you want this. Fuck, you had begged for this: sharpening your knife to make your words cut deeper with him until the bleeding was too big to ignore.

You wanted this. Craved it. Needed to satisfy whatever foreign feeling you'd now attribute to your rebellious and spoiled nature.

(You had never been denied anything, and even now, Joel knows this, but can't help and too give in)

"Not so loud now, are we?" he jests, "but 's worth the view, lettin' 'cha run your spoiled tongue off"

He hums with approval at the sight of your body, your pliant energy making his hard cock twitch in his pants.

"You like what you see, Joel?" you ask softly, despite your resistence.

He groans at that, calloused digits grazing the soft skin of your virgin collarbones.

"I do, princess" he answers, lifiting your chin up. "I'll show ya'"

He takes your hand into his bigger one, moving it right onto the spot between his legs.

"You've been bad, little spoiled brat" Joel's voice rasps as your thighs rub together. Y'er lucky I like that"

He pats your cheek. "Wanna make it up to me?" you eagerly nod, desperate for Joel's approval. You hate not having the upper hand, and a part of you thinks you'd get it back if you behave well. "Good girl. Now sit"

He sits next to you, patting his thick thighs. You salivate just at the thought, moving your body over his denim clad lap. "Right'ere"

"Look at 'cha" he parts your legs, a hoarse tks falling from his lips. Joel chuckles at the wet mess that's created. "So fucken wet and I ain't even touched yet"

You feel his rough digits ghost over your dripping cunt, just as his lips had done minutes ago. The teasing sets you on edge, thrill coarsing through your veins. Without warning, his big palm slaps against your cunt, and you feel yourself soaking your folds like you had never ever before.

"Fucken dirty whore. You ain't no princess, gettin' wet to 'tis" he mocks, "what would daddy say"

"Shut up" you sneer, but your body is full of hormones and treason.

"Not when I'm above 'cha, darlin'. Wouldn't wanna piss me off when I'm the one who decides if 'tis pretty pussy comes or not"

"What makes you think I'll take shit from you?" but it comes out as a whimper. Smack. A jolt runs straight from your pussy, stinging from the contact. "Didn't take it when we where in patrol, why should I do now?"

He laughs, darkly. It's haunting.

"'Cause you want 'tis. And I know you'll be a good girl for me to get it"

You feel yourself dizzy, head spinning as you land on the floor.

"Let's see if I get 'cha to shut up if that dirty bratty mouth of y'rs is stuffed full of ma' cock"

He pulls down his worn-out jeans, getting rid of his belt on a harsh pull. The clinking sound makes you rub your thighs together in a new found anticipation, instead of taking the time to run away from this, whatever the hell this is.

No. He's right.

You want this as much as he does.

(Isn't that the scariest part?)

"Ya' like what 'cha see, y/n?" he's smart to use your same words back, but it's the way he's said your name, like he was always meant to say it, or the angry throbb of his cock, what makes you drool at the red furious tip, dripping with rage and need.

"I think it's your dick who's more excited than me" you taunt, tracing the inner soft skin of his thick thighs. "Practically begging for me to lick it"

His adam's apple bobs.

"Tell me, Joel, when was the last time someone made this pretty big cock feel good?"

"Enough" his fingers grab your hair, pulling you harshly until he drags your mouth onto his cock. "I'm tired of y'er bullshit"

You aren't a stranger, he thinks, with the way you kiss his tip, tongue making a wet circle through the head of his cock. You take him into your mouth, pulling out in a second.

"W-what you do that for?" he asks, breathing rapidly. Strained voice.

You smirk.

"To watch you"

To watch how his eyes had closed as soon as your breath ghosted over his leaking cock, how he threw his head back and gripped the sheets viciously at just your shameless lazy circling. Joel Miller could be in charge, but God, wasn't he touch-starved?

(And for a reason, that was so fucking hot. And, in a way, adorable)

"J-just 'cause I'm-" he cuts himself off, probably out of need or out of embarrassment. "You're not in charge, so don't fuck around with your chances, slut. Imma show you y'r place real quick"

His grip tightens in your hair, forcing himself back into your mouth. Joel was punishing, with the way he's pushing your head down until it was at the base of his cock. You gagged for a moment, eyes closing at the weight of his thick girth on your tongue.

"Takin' it like a champ, princess. Usin' that mouth of y'rs for good" and then, with a softer tone he adds, "like ya're made for me"

You moan around him as he starts fucking into your mouth, pulling you off quickly, saliva slipping out of your mouth as you gasp for air.

"Joel" you whine his name, legs pressing together in order to get any friction.

"Now you beggin'? 'S gonna take more than jus' that, doll" he taunts, but there's a certain wicked softness to the way he traces your cheek as you scramble an attempt. "Try harder, princess"

"I'm sorry, Joel-"

He moves his head, clearly dissatisfied.

"Not Joel. Ya' call me sir when I fuck you"

A mewl escapes your lips.

"Sir" comes out like a faithless prayer, begging to be heard. "I'll do anything, sir, please, touch me"

"Al'ight, but still, it ain't 'nough"

Oh.

The hot tears in the corner of your eyes shouldn't arouse him this much, but the watery promise makes his cock twitch.

"I-I'll do anything, I swear" you beg, the salty tears stream down your cheeks in cascades. "It hurts, Jo-" you whine, "sir, please. Just fuck me goddamit!"

Your once poised voice, now reduced to a whimpering begging mess. Your red rimmed eyes, beginning to puff. It's the way a gloss seems to coat over them, making you look like a doe-eyed deer and not the brat who challenged his every decision and word.

Fuck, isn't he aroused.

"Lookin' so pretty when you cry" he smiles, but instead of wiping the tears, it's his tongue that licks them off your face. "You beggin' that bad to take my cock"

You nod, eagerly so.

"Please, Jo- Just, please. D-don't make me beg" your face feels hot and wet again, "I-I can't take it anymore. Just fucking give it to me!"

"Easy, baby. Can't understand a thing you sayin'" Joel teases. "Where your manners at, besides?"

"Please, sir" he gently pulls you up, humming in satisfaction.

"Goin' crazy over my cock, baby? Y'sure have a nerve to call one pathetic if you gon' act like this, you little brat"

But he is the one moaning when his lips cature your mouth with a fierce impulse, like he wants to devour you whole and swallow your vocals, as to never speak up again.

(But then, he wouldn't hear his name on your sweet albeit snotty voice, and that's a privilege he can't forbid himself from, no matter how annoying you can get sometimes)

"Please" you whisper one last time. He wipes a stray tear with his rough thumb. "I'm yours"

"See, baby? It ain't that hard to shut that mouth of y'rs"

He guides you to the old bed while renewing the kiss, tongues now engaged on a battle for dominance, like even without using your words you'd still need to assert your power over the other. You moan into his mouth when your body slams against the mattress and Joel lands on top, his weight sinking you in the old bed, that creaks.

"I just want to be a good girl for you" you whimper.

"You sure of that? Not gon' be a brat?" and despite his harsh tone that seems to humiliate you, his wandering fingers are gentle with each touch, like if he were to put any more force, you'd break. Joel thinks it's not necessary with you: just with you begging for his cock, he's broken you.

"No, sir" and then you whimper as his mouth dives to the collarbones you had taunted him with before. Joel takes his time, inhaling the musk and savoring the sweet of your skin. Needy whines leave your lips, and he's having the time of his life seeing you surrender so easily, like you had no idea what limits to push, where they'd take you and how you'd pay for that.

"C-Can I touch you?" you whisper, hands itching to tangle on his grey parted hair. He chuckles at the eagerness and tenderness you don't seem aware of.

"S' you can be sweet if ya' want to, huh?" he leaves a fluttering kiss to your chin. "Needy and desperate too. Do ya' want to touch, princess? Remember to use y'r words"

"Yes, sir. I-I want to touch you"

"Thought I disgusted you, hmm? I take you've learnt y'r lesson now?"

"Yes, I've learned. Please, sir, won't do it again" you plead.

"I'll allow ya' to touch, doll" he gives you a smirk, "but 'ts all you get for now"

He lets your hands cling to his coat, taking it off. Then, you proceed to his buttoned shirt, fingers flidding with buttons until you grown annoyed and desperate, pulling the fabric over his head with need.

"Look at 'cha" but there's only adoration, proven so when he starts to kiss the trail of soft skin that goes from your neck to your stomach, making you squirm. "Easy, baby. 'M gettin' down there"

He finally reaches your core, kissing the inner side of your thighs with wet and sloppy lips. His hot breath tingles over your clit, and a beat later, his mouth presses into your cunt, your back arching at the cold contact of his chapped lips against the humid hot of your folds.

You muffle a moan, embarrassed at the whole situation.

"Ain't need to worry 'bout nothin', doll. Nobody can hear us" he grins, tongue flicking your clit. "Wanna listen to your pretty whimpers as I make 'cha feel good"

You cry out of pleasure, the sound escaping past your lips. Joel has a laugh.

"Good girl"

Joel rewards you with another series of minstrations on your bud, licks made with determination only the expert man knows of. He then slides one finger into you, slowly moving it in and out of your soaked trembling heat.

"M-more" you beg, eager to get more fingers inside you. "Please, more, sir"

You buck your hips to try to get closer to him, meeting his thrusts.

Joel tuts, "What're you doin', spoiled brat? Did I tell ya' to move? You were doing such'a great job... guess I gotta punish you-"

"No!" you shout. "Do anything you want, but touch me, please- touch me!"

He introduces a second finger, raising his brow at the immediate way you clench around him. Joel curls them, robbing another moan out of you.

"Feels good?" you can't answer, as a hard thrust robs another moan from you. "But I'ont want 'cha to think we done, princess. Think I'd let you come, jus' like that? After all's happened?"

"Need you" you tug him closer with your arms holding onto his. "Joel, sir- please"

"Oh, princess" he smirks, "I think you don't know what you askin' for"

Joel grabs his hand around his length, coating the tip in your slicky juices, and then, he presses his length into you in one thrust.

"You're big-" you pant as he gives you time to adjust to his size. Joel then picks up an unrelenting pace that makes moans spill out of you like a fountain, the pace of his thrusts sending you closer and closer to the edge.

"N-need to-"

"Don't" he seethes. "Ya' won't 'till I tell ya' can"

All you could do is moan, helplessly pinned between his body and the bed. Your whole body shakes in an effort to contain as his hips loose their rhythm, his groans louder as he gets closer and closer to the edge.

"Al'ight. 'Cause you've been good" his cock drives through your walls with rhythmic melodies. "Cum, princess, but when ya' do, look at me"

You're seeing stars the moment your toes curl and his head falls to clash against your forehead.

(The beads of sweat roll down out of him like trails to follow, and his scarred rugged skin doesn't compare to your soft one, painted with the maroon of his bites and kissing at the skin of your collarbone. The dried up trails of tears. Your begging and desperate voice. His name on your lips)

It only takes a few more thrusts before he spills in you, cock twitching until every last drop of thick hot white cum is pumped into you.

Joel then pulls out gently, pressing a kiss to your forehead before flopping onto you, the mattress dipping even further. With his hand, he removes a stray strand of damp hair, putting it behind you ear with such tender kindness, your heart strings pull.

"In fact, I want ya' to look at me next time y'even think 'bout defying me. See if that mouth of y'ers can talk after 'tis"

A week later, you're back at patrolling.

"Anyone got anythin' to say?"

The group looks at you. You're about to open your mouth, but Joel cocks an eyebrow.

Just like that, and you're gone. Great job, y/n.

"Whatever" you sound meek as you push past him, yet he catches a glimpse of your warm cheeks. "Let's go"

The rest are too stunned to speak, the silence only cut off by Miller's laugh.

"Would 'cha look at that?" he whistles. "Ain't nobody tell ya' miracles don't happen anymore on this goddamn world!"

credits: divider @kodaswrld / gif @chappellsroans

2K notes · View notes

ncteez · 6 months ago

Text

M.I.L.F. (Make It Last Forever) ― L.DH

Haechan, a favorite among classy wives to hire during the hot summer season for a nice, thorough pool cleaning, seems to have a favorite wife of his own. You. Or the one where Haechan was the pain-in-your-ass son of the family you used to babysit for, but now he’s making it his mission to be the pain-in-your-ass pretend husband that you never asked for, but very clearly need.

minors dni

PAIRING ― lee haechan x afab milf!reader

WORDCOUNT― 18.9k

CONTENT― age gap: reader is 31 and haechan is 24, milf trope/single mother reader, college pool boy haechan (turned part time babysitter), reader has 1 kid and haechan really wants to give her another, reader has morals!! haechan just doesn’t see it as a moral issue, he is actually very sweet

!WARNINGS! ― age gap, haechan is somewhat of a manipulator, he’s gentle but won’t take no for an answer. dub-con in one instance. major breeding kink and kind of a mommy and daddy kink (domesticity), angst regarding reader and her ex husband, reader has huge tits

NOTE ― this was written for jay from enhypen over on my other blog, but i am gifting it to you guys here as well! I WROTE THEM BOTH!!!! NOT PROOF READ.

nsfw tags under cut

nsfw tags― thick big dick haechan, small instant dubious consent, tit obsessed haechan, groping and grinding, mommy/daddy kink, breeding kink, unprotected sex, cum stuffing-ish,pussy eating, fingering, basically it’s haechan doing stuff to you, this ain’t smut this is making love, also reader doesn’t shave her coochie and haechan fucking loves it.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Having a stray eye isn’t typically something you afford yourself when it comes to men. Things tend to change with time though, that much you know is true.

It was proven to you for the first time when your ex husband decided to up and leave you three weeks before your due date for a woman–well, girl, fresh out of highschool. Years of trust and promises crushed with just a single sentence and a slam of the door. Time must’ve changed you for him to leave so heartlessly. Time must’ve changed him to become so cold.

It was proven again when you were able to heal despite never believing you could. Seconds of pain turned to minutes, to hours. Days. weeks. Months. Years of pain before being able to wake up and feel somewhat numb to it all. Like a flip switch in your head that told you that you can be happy now even if as a single mother. After all, the hard part was over.

It took some four to five years, but it did happen. Time did change you, it healed you, it matured you. As your child grew, so did you. And for the better, you think. You count your blessings of living a life far more lavish than you ever could have anticipated given the circumstances that had been thrown at you. Even to the point of nesting, wanting another child, wanting a big and happy family. But alas, your ex husband had better things to do.

At the end of the day, you’d never be able to call this home yours if you had stayed with your ex husband. He didn’t like this kind of “flashy” lifestyle, and to him, everything you wanted seemed too flashy for him. Perhaps he was right to some extent, as you recognize the brand name goods you now own, solely because you had promised yourself in the depths of your despair that you’ll get to a point in life where you can buy yourself everything you not only need, but want. So, here you are, owning an expensive home, in a nice neighborhood, with a nice car and a nice pool.

Your daughter has everything she could want and need too, aside from a sibling, it’s certainly still more than what you had growing up and it’s all because of you. A fully decorated bedroom drenched in glitter, purples, creams, yellows, and pink, her favorite color. All sorts of play houses, costumes, dolls, a few lego sets, and even some plastic swords and knives for the days she wants to pretend to be her favorite movie characters. Clothes she can grow into, and a nice little fund building up for her as she grows up. Her first car, college, help for a downpayment on her own first house.

Both of you have everything you could ever want or need and for that, you’re so proud. Especially knowing your husband would have never believed you could make it this far without him. Still, despite having everything you could ever ask for, there’s something in you that feels empty.

Time changes things.

Time changes a lot of things, you note more than usual, as the man you’ve been ogling for the past three weeks makes himself far more known to you than you ever wished he would.

The interaction with him was always so quick before today and given the fact that he was a complete stranger, you never quite invited him into your home considering–you know, small child and all. You had hired him over text. Haechan, your neighbor said his name was. His handsome features didn’t offer you anything more than a clean pool and a wandering eye.

Your neighbor apparently has a friend who has a cousin that has an even nicer pool than you do. Given, it’s only a nicer pool due to the fact that this young man, Haechan, tended to it weekly and made damn sure it could be drunk out of if a person had a craving for chlorine.

You feel like an idiot now that it didn’t dawn on you quick enough. Sure, he looked a bit familiar to you but who doesn’t when you’re always out and about seeing so many different faces on a daily basis? His name, Haechan, didn’t ring any bells. Now though, the shame of staring at his sweaty pecs and biceps came crashing down the moment you realized who Haechan actually is.

He didn’t do a damn thing to remind you either, if anything, all he did was walk around all sweaty in the afternoon heat with his tank top either sticking to him, or off entirely. It appears that you had just been too busy running errands with your child, considering his shifts were always when you were home. Too busy cooking, cleaning, reading, lounging. Too busy looking at…well, not his face.

Too busy to give the man a glance more than that of a slice of pie behind a bakery window.

Haechan.

Since fucking when was that his name?

“Lee Donghyuck.” You whimper near mortified, three weeks too late as you hand him his pay with nervous hands. “Spray-cheese in my hair Donghyuck?”

“Ah, was wondering when you’d pick up on that.” He smiles at you with that crooked grin, a knowing look that any man at a bar would give you if he had caught you checking him out. Then, he pockets the hefty amount of cash that you hand to him. “I go by Haechan more often these days.” He trails off, an amused smirk half-falling as he looks at your expression of realization. “You can call me whatever you want though.”

He’s well aware of how often you’ve checked him out since he started intentionally taking his clothes off. After all, it’s mid-july by this point and the sun baring down on him doesn’t quite call for a fucking turtle neck sweater. Or a T-shirt, or a tank top, for that matter. It calls for all skin baby, beautifully tanned and toned for you and any of your neighbors to look at if they so wanted to.

Haechan doesn’t work out for nothing, after all. Summer after summer, he’s found himself to be quite fond of the rich women that hire him for their pool services. Always wanting an attractive young man to wander around half naked and satiate their lack of sex life with their husbands, or boytoys, or what have you. He knows all that extra pay isn’t because he does a good job either. He’s gotten winks, small comments, even a few offers of his body for more pay.

He’s turned them all down, of course. For a full-on affair, anyway. Haechan has gotten a few blow jobs and quickies as a tip before though, and a lot of that is why he keeps getting referred to more women. Richer women. Never single women.

Until you.

He quite enjoyed catching you looking at him. Especially given the fact that he knew exactly who you were when you introduced yourself to him via text. That little childhood crush on you came back within an instant upon actually seeing you again. Truly, he had forgotten all about you up until that fateful day three weeks ago.

If he’s being honest, he’s been pining something fierce since he first stepped foot on your property. Excitement swelled inside of him just to see you again. To see if you’re still hot, to see how you’re doing, what you’re doing. How your life is going.

He knew you didn’t recognize his nickname through text, and he definitely knew you didn’t recognize him to be eating him up with those eyes of yours either. So, he played along, enjoying it while he could before it would inevitably dawn on you. Still, he remembers you so well from back then. Crazy to know that he rarely thought of you for the past twelve years or so, and how all those little butterflies of his came back in a far more mature way. He was only twelve back then, but he’s a man now.

Twenty four and perfectly sound as a man who knows what he likes. The fact that you happen to fall into that category is no fault of his own, honestly. It’s your fault if anyone’s at all. Haechan is a man that likes a specific type of woman too. Woman. Not a girl, not a young lady, not a free spirit, nor a prude. He is drawn to the idea of experience, to the idea of settling down. It’s not easy to find that at his age, in college, surrounded by party girls and casual drug use.

And, well, imagine his smile upon seeing your lovely, lavish home with the large pool, no ring on your finger, a whole fucking child, and your motherly instincts when you buckle her into the car for an errand. Oh and the broken fence in the far back of your yard.

You’re a single mom.

A hot single mom who lives lavishly. One who could probably use a man’s help around your house.

He half expected you to be able to recognize him when he appeared for work the first time. He even had a monologue in his head on what to say to you, and how to present himself. You didn’t seem to take notice though, introducing yourself to him as if you hadn’t spent all that time in his childhood home when you were a teenager. Like you never mothered him, or put him to sleep with the soft stories when you let him watch all those scary movies before bed. Even at twelve, he was a scaredy cat.

Clearly you’re too busy experiencing life to notice the way he fawns over you too. Hating how you’re more reserved than the other lavish, fixed-up women. You seem to have standards, or maybe it’s just priorities ... that's so hot. Truly, it only makes him want you more because by now, the other women would already be rubbing all over him. The ones who shouldn’t be wanting him the way they do. So, yes, he’s always stealing glances at you with sparkling dark eyes, fantasizing in his head that this pool is his to clean now, because that’s what a good man would do for you, right? With him around servicing your pool and lawn, you’d never need to hire or spend money on another broke ass college student again.

Yes. That’s how quickly he fell into this infatuation solely because you looked at him like you want it without realizing who he was. Hell, without realizing how perfect you are in terms of what he wants.

God, how are you still single?

Like, why do you have a child and a house so beautiful without a man wandering around doing all of this work for you? Not that you couldn’t do it on your own, it’s just, you clearly have the means to make a man do as you please. Why haven’t you?

You happen to fall almost perfectly into the categories of what he’s looking for. Save for the fact that now you recognize him as that kid you used to babysit rather than the man who tries to be sexy while cleaning your pool. Which is a fucking shame, if he’s being honest, to be written off as that same ten year old child rather than a fucking man who very clearly has needs and desires.

The point is– Haechan wants you and he parades around your pool for you to look at him. So what if you used to babysit him? It’s not like you’re an old swamp-hag trying to lure him with candy. You’re just…a woman. And he’s just a man.

“Well, thank you for cleaning again,” You trail off in an awkward tone, shifting your eyes to anywhere but him. He watches you though, smiling a smile you know all too well from his childhood antics. It must mean something different now, or maybe not. “I guess I’ll see you next week?”

“Well, actually,” Haechan offers, “Would you be opposed to–” You cut him off instantly with an awkward wave of your hand.

You don’t know why you make assumptions, maybe from that damned smile on his face, but you do recall your ex husband reminding you time and time again that it’s one of the things he hated about you.

Assumptions. Always thinking the worst, or perhaps the most filthy of situations and expressions. To be fair, you feel guilty about how you’ve been looking at him, you can’t help but panic trying to pretend like it never happened, and that he never saw it happen.

“I’m not interested, Donghyuck.” You respond hastily, pressing your thumb to your bottom lip to bite the skin on it, keeping your eyes away from him with the awkward words. After all, he knew who you were this whole time and paraded around like that?

Even before recognizing him yourself, you know men well enough to know when they’re trying to flaunt. Is it so wrong to assume?

“Interested in what?” Haechan tilts his head knowingly, seeing the way you buckle under the guilt of staring at the very man you used to tuck into bed every night. He can see the way you try to push those sexual thoughts you had away in the quick rejection to a simple assumption.

“I was just going to ask if you want me to fix your fence.”

Ah, you did get ahead of yourself through the guilt, and you’re far too aware of it as you draw your eyes back to him and note the expression on his face. Amused, maybe a bit of concern in his eyes, even?

“Ah, um–” You start, trailing your eyes down your fence line never once noticing a break in it. Haechan is quick to point though, leaning to you with a whisper of “right there.” And well, you did not need to hear that tone in his voice the way you just did.

God, it’s so awkward.

“Well, how much would that cost me?” You question with an empty voice, staring at the broken fence.

“Free.” He uses the same tone, leaning away from you now and smiling wide. “That is, if you provide lunch.”

Well, despite the awkwardness, that break over there would cost you a pretty penny to fix, and your daughter needs the safety of playing in her own yard without random animals or worse, people, making their way in. Plus, you’re quite fond of saving money. How else would you be here if you weren’t good at it? And now, given that you’re most definitely not interested in Haechan, what's the harm in making a few sandwiches for someone you already know well enough? It’s not like you’ve never made him lunch before.

The awkwardness will pass and your guilt will subside. You both will laugh at it over a cold glass of iced lemonade, surely. It’s not like you realized who he was anyway, it’s not like you’re just gonna keep looking at him like that. You should just push forward and it’ll all be fine.

“Hell, I’d even watch the kiddo so you can have a break every now and then.” He watches your reaction, wanting to ask so many questions about why you’re single, who the father is, where he is, why he isn’t here. “After all, I learned quite a bit from you.”

For a second you consider that too.

And there’s three reasons as to why you should. The first being that you were literally just looking for a new child care facility due to learning of the staff coming to work while sick. Your poor daughter came home with a fever just last week, and you’ve had little luck in finding a place with the same educational benefits for her.

The second being that, well, while you’re not hurting for cash or anything, it wouldn’t hurt to be able to put a little more back for her college fund. Or for fun little vacations.

And lastly, despite your guilt of lusting over someone you shouldn’t have, you know Donghyuck and you know his family even better. No background check would be needed, your daughter could be in the comfort of her own home rather than a classroom setting that she’s sure to see for at least twenty years of her life in the future.

So, yes. You consider it instantly, and Haechan sees it.

You only know of the childhood version of him and, well, the slutty pool-side version of him apparently. If only you knew of that other side of him and how fond he is of watching his own younger cousins. How good he is with children, and how much he clings to the idea of being a father one day.

Haechan is great with kids, with or without them having a hot mom.

And well, he knows that he’s fond of looking at you at least. Besides, as long as you can work with his class schedules, he’d be willing to do just about anything to play pretend-husband, even if you’re unaware of it.

“Is that so?” You finally ask, curious eyes looking at him with a furrowed brow. “Shouldn’t you be out living the life? College parties and such?” You add, wondering why such a great deal has managed to flop down on your lap. The idea of even cheaper childcare without the risk of unvaccinated children, and sick caretakers being far too good of a deal to pass up.

“Well, yeah I guess.” He shrugs, leaning backwards to stretch and roll his shoulders. “Not really my scene though. I have classes Monday and Wednesday all day, Tuesday and Thursdays my classes are online. If you can work around that, I’d rather just be making money and chilling.”

You think about it just for a second more when he continues.

“I can be here on weekends too. Maybe you should be the one out relaxing and having some drinks.”

“Well, I don’t quite need that, or for you to be here on weekends.” You think as you say it, knowing you have given up on going out to try and meet men two years ago. “I could pay you though, let’s say, thirty an hour?”

Well, shit, that’s not too bad at all, especially considering he’s about to give up on cleaning the pools of a few women in his contacts for this. It’s a major pay cut, but still enough to get by comfortably if you’ll have him multiple times a week. That plus the pool cleaning money? And free lunch?

“Oh, you don’t go out at all? I don’t see why not, could probably get a man in no time–” Haechan ignores the wage offer and pushes to note the singlehood he had been noticing for the past three weeks. “and the pay is fine.”

“Ah, well, the dating pool isn’t so great in this neck of the woods.” You scratch the back of your neck when you say it. “That aside, I'll have her in day care on the days you can’t be here, but it really would be a big help. Thank you for the offer, Donghyuck. And for the fence too.”

He watches you with a firm nod, shoving his hands into the pockets of his basketball shorts, still entirely shirtless in front of you.

“And the pool.” You add quietly after a moment.

“I think you’d be surprised about the dating pool.” He smiles as he pushes the subject back to what you had previously said, hoping you believe those words before continuing. “So, when do you want me to start?”

“Is tomorrow too soon? You’re okay to set up here with your online classes?”

“Tomorrow is perfect.” He smiles.

“I’m sure she would be so happy knowing she won’t be going to daycare–” You clap, feeling a bit less awkward despite the boldness of the man in front of you. You’re sure he’s just teasing you for knowing you checked him out. “I know I am.”

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

It’s a little too perfect, actually.

After that first day of watching your child and making a lazy attempt at “fixing your fence,” he’s settled in like it’s home. He wishes it was, with the lavish lifestyle in a house far too pretty compared to his own living space with piles upon piles of laundry he’s too lazy to pick up for himself.

It’s different for you though. Different when he’s here.

Truly, he feels like he’s living the life after a couple of weeks with decent pay and a comfy space to do his homework. He watches your child, which is arguably the hardest part of the job but she’s well behaved for him. In fact, she seems to have taken a shine to him.

He’s starting to be very intentional with taking far too long to work on your fence too, and still maintaining your pool. He’s trying to drag this out for as long as he can. Even if just to see if you still look at him when you come home the same way you did before recognizing him. You never do though. When his shirt is off and he’s wiping his forehead in the sun, you don’t look at him anymore.

Hell, he’s even considered breaking things in your home just to give himself more jobs to do. More things that make him feel needed, like a husband. More things that you thank him for fixing, even if it breaks again two days later.

And ah, the food in your fridge is always free reign to him, that large television in the living room too. God, sometimes he dreads going home, and by sometimes, he means all the time. Who in their right mind would ever fucking want to live outside of this lifestyle? He really can’t believe you’re single, nor can he believe that he has the opportunity to be in your home, close to you. It shouldn’t take too long now to convince you, right? That you don’t necessarily have to be single? That you need him around to live even more comfortably?

In short, Haechan is in his head about how he’s practically just roleplaying as your stay-at-home husband before having to go back to his shitty little apartment and remind himself that he’s just a fucking college student with no interest in the people on campus. And like, even with the way you come home from work, all groggy and exhausted on the days he’s there, you always thank him before giving him his pay. What he likes best about those nights is when you’re too exhausted to even pay him and you promise to do it next time.

In his mind, that’s you promising to see him again.

He could give less of a shit about the pay at this point, as long as he gets to be in this house, smelling your favorite candles and dish detergents, seeing you, being a semi-father to a child who deserves more love than the two of you combined can give…he’ll fucking do anything you want for free.

It’s difficult sometimes, like he really can’t help it. Some days wandering around this house and imagining how the two of you could have landed on buying it together. How the rooms would be organized if he were here from the start. Claiming his spot on your couch like any dad would. Playing dolls with your daughter, laughing with her, letting her paint his nails and put his hair in little pigtails. He even cleans your pool as if it were his own, meaning, he genuinely cleans it.

He has taken it upon himself to mow your lawn, confusing the yard workers that you apparently hired years ago. Did he accidentally fire them? Maybe, but any good husband would save you money, right? He checks your mail, waves to your neighbors and lets them make assumptions.

And every single fucking night it’s harder and harder to go back home.

Especially after a full day of playing dad then seeing you come back so tired. Turning off that switch in his head isn’t easy. He wants to greet you like the husband you don’t have. He wants to ease your hard days in so many ways. Tell you he’s proud of you, that you still look so pretty after an exhausting shift of whatever the fuck you do. He wants to serve you dinner, run you a bath, fix your hair, lay you down– oh, he’s fantasizing again. Unfortunately, he has to settle with seeing the relief on your face when he lets you know in a soft voice that he’s cooked dinner and he will heat it up for you before leaving, kiddo is in her room sleeping, no dishes in the sink, and laundry is folded and put away.

He loves the appreciation in your eyes, and sometimes even sees a glint of sadness. He can tell you wish you had this from a person who isn’t here for pay. Someone who loves you, and loves your child, and feels joy in making your life easier.

Fuck, if only you knew.

And you’d be lying if you tried to say Haechan isn’t a godsend to you on the days he babysits. Many times you find yourself wishing he’d just move in and do everything that you can’t do. You’d pay him well, give him a guest room, whatever. But it’s just…not viable to support a full time employee like that, nor is it fair to your daughter.

She needs a parent, not a paid college student who needs some extra cash. You have to be that parent, you have to make time for her and witness all of her joys in life. You have to protect her and never bring in faces of men who claim to want to be a father, only to run and break her heart more than your own.

For now, you settle with this godsend of a little shit you used to babysit. Still you can barely believe that’s the same person, but again…time changes things. And thankfully, the awkwardness of what you did has died down drastically.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Today, you’re more thankful for Haechan than you have been previously. After a heavy workload has been lifted off your back with the approval of this project, you need a night out. For the first time in years, you’re giving yourself a night out, all because you have someone you can trust to be here for your daughter.

He was so understanding when you called, happy to come over right then and there to put her to bed and mostly just house-sit for the night. Even without an end time for him, and even without asking for extra pay, he just…accepted with an understanding tone and that stupid breathy chuckle he gives to you when you ask for favors. “What? You need me there right now? I’m putting on my shoes.” He had said.

It’s the fact that now, as he sits on your couch looking at you in your chosen outfit– he seems a little off. Maybe it’s because you asked him where the best spots in town are because it’s been so long since you’ve gone out, or maybe he just feels awkward seeing so much skin on your body.

To be fair, he didn’t realize you were going out out. He thought that maybe you were gonna go stay with a friend to celebrate and have a drink or two.

In reality though, he’s just awestruck. Already you look great even after your busy days at work but…this is a different level. The way your tits look in that push-up bra and tiny ass top, when he’s used to seeing you head out in some sort of business casual outfit without an ounce of skin showing save for your ankles or wrists…jesus. He’s struggling more than usual to keep himself calm around you, hopping up on one leg when you walk away to try and adjust the chub in his pants, and releasing a small sigh before you’re looking at him again.

His skin feels like it’s on fire knowing you’re going out looking like that.

“You sure you're okay to sleep over? I figure it’ll be easier since I’m not sure when I’ll come home, or if I come home.” You smile with a wink, your stomach in knots over the two shots you’ve taken for the first time in years. “I can call my friends and tell them not to come if you’d rather focus on your studies.”

Haechan shakes his head, waving his hands in defense for you as if he didn’t just see the way your tits bounce and squish against your shirt with each move you make.

“No, no! Go on, have fun.” He says, encouraging you to go out despite hoping you come home with no luck of finding a man out there.

Just, look at you. Fuck, he’s staring again. He hates knowing that he could be one of the guys at whatever bar or club you’re landing on tonight. He could be the person that makes sure you don’t come home, getting to plant his face right there. He could be whatever you want him to be if you’re looking like that.

But no, he has to play husband again, which is normally something he’s all too excited to do. Tonight though, he feels like a fucking cuckold. After everything he does for you, after not mentioning how you’ve skipped a few of his payments, after slaving away for hours over your pool, your household chores, fixing and breaking that fucking dishwasher, cooking you dinner every single night he’s here just to make sure you have a meal when you get off of work…you imply you may not come home tonight?

And you’re dressed like that?

And you’re…

God, you just look so good right now. It pains him to know you didn’t dress like this for him, the only man who cares enough to make your life easy. He’s not mad at you, per se, but he’s pissed that you don’t see him as an option despite showing you time and time again that not only is he an option, but the right choice.

This is what you look like when you want to impress a man? This is how you act? How you talk? Fuck, god, fuck– maybe he’s just too deep in his one-sided roleplay but it really, really fucking feels like he’s watching his woman go off and look for someone else to fuck.

“Thank you, Donghyuck,” You smile, walking over to him with a saunter in your step and a gentle smile across your lips.

He’s never heard you speak his name so sensually, the way his cock twitches forces him to wince away from you. He’s never even seen you saunter before. Fucking hell, somehow it feels worse seeing you act like this after how many times he’s imagined it, all alone in his room.

A slow walk from you, with the strap of your shirt slipping off your shoulder, fat tits threatening to spill out, lifting the hem of your skirt, or dress, or whatever you’re wearing in his fantasy at that point. Your voice, so soft, so sexy. And you’re practically bringing his fantasy to life right now, except he knows you’re going to fucking walk away from him like this. Into the fucking arms of some random dude at a club.

Probably some loser he’s seen on campus too.

“It means a lot.” You add, popping a quick, platonic kiss to the top of his forehead.

Ah, lip gloss. That little kiss on him is enough to ignite him to the point of no return. He almost wants to skip the part of asking you not to go and straight up just beg that you pick him, that you choose him. It’s not just your home, or the luxuries that come with it. It’s you that he wants. You’re the fucking luxury and you’re just gonna go to some sticky-floored club and pretend he’s not clearly checking you the fuck out right now? Like he’s not about three seconds from dropping to his knees just to see you from the angle you deserve?!

“It’s no problem.” Haechan relents, dropping himself onto your couch instead and adjusting his body to sink deep into the cushions just to keep himself from arguing against everything he’s giving you permission to do right now.

Hah. Permission.

“Be safe.” He adds in an even more monotone voice. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

And god, he seethes in his thoughts after you close that door and hop into the car with your friends. You don’t look like a mother tonight, and he wonders if you’ll be upfront and forward with anyone you intend to hit on too. Probably not. He’s well aware of the men in this city, after all, he’s one of them.

It’s really not something he can control after seeing you like that either. Your child is already in bed and he’s just sitting here on your couch with a throbbing, fucking weeping cock thinking about you. What’s stopping him from taking care of it? You’re not here, after all.

You’re not fucking here. But everything about you is.

And that’s how he finds himself in your bedroom for the first time, barely making it a foot into the room before closing the door and dropping to the floor. The scent in your room is different. It’s feminine, gentle, like the energy is kissing him all over and sending goosebumps straight to the head of his cock. He couldn’t even pull it out, already holding his breath with his hand down his pants, vigorously trying to get what he wants so badly yet knowing that his hand will never compare to you.

And it’s here where he feels like a husband. Spilling against his pants with a silent, choked back sob as he stares forward at your bed, and the way you didn’t make it this morning. It’s messy, and he wants to be in that mess of sheets with you more than anything.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Haechan hates that he’s now forced to get used to your late night ventures. Every weekend now. Every. Fucking. Weekend. You ask if he’s willing to stay over so you can go unwind, and despite his better (or worse) judgment, he accepts. The only solace he finds in these ventures is knowing you consistently come back home right after usual closing times, and you’re mostly sober. Sometimes a bit whiny that you’re not lucking out, worrying that maybe you’re too old now, or maybe you’re just not as desirable. There have even been a few times where you’ve exposed your ex husband during your rants, giving Haechan little hints to follow as to why you’re single, and how he left you.

Still, he knows in your tipsy state that you usually wouldn’t talk about these things with him, but he’s all too happy to get the details once you come home. Mostly because it calms his rising rage at how you’re doing this to not only him, but yourself. It’s mostly because you’re technically coming home to him though.

And every single time, you go back to your bedroom to grab his payment even though it could wait until morning, considering he’s been sleeping in the guest room– all he can think about is how he’s been in your room. He’s gotten off countless times by now by the smell of your room alone, still barely able to even reach your bed to lay in it himself for a better experience. God, he’s probably memorized each little fray in your carpeted bedroom floor by now with how much he’s zoned out on it mid-jerk off session right there on his knees at your door.

He’s truly pathetic for you.

This time though…three in the morning has passed and normally you’d have been stumbling through the door an hour ago. Normally, he’d be fighting back the need to tell you that you’re beautiful, not too old, and entirely desirable. Normally, he would be fisting his cock again in your guest room before sleep, getting off on the idea that he can cum in a house that you live in, smothered by the sheets you meticulously picked out to match the walls of the room. Moaning for you, practically crying for you to let him do it all.

Have you really done it this time? Gone off with some man? Are you getting railed right now in some hotel, or car, or someone’s shitty man-cave? God, his mind is racing, both aroused at the fact that you must be horny to be constantly wanting to go out like this, but equally as devastated because like…he’s right here.

Who the fuck cares if you babysat him? He’s a man. No longer that child who sprayed cheese in your hair or dumped salt into the bag of sugar. He’s a fucking man, cooking you dinner when you work, parenting your child, cleaning your house, maintaining your pool and fence….He does everything for you, why the fuck don’t you see it?!

Click.

Haechan’s ears perk up instantly at the sound. He sits up on the couch from his depressed slump of scrolling through his phone, quickly fixing his hair and clearing his throat.

In you stumble, right into the little entryway table with a whisper-scream of “Shit, fuck–”

Haechan looks at your state before standing to his feet and rushing to you, helping you balance on your feet despite your footing not quite being grounded even with his help. You lean on him closely, letting out an alcohol scented sigh.

His nostrils flare as he holds his breath, feeling your tit press against his arm, smelling the drinks, the sweat, and the dulled perfume on you. Then, a hint of something else. Musk.

You’ve been with a man.

He holds back a gesture at the way you lean on him. Nothing more he could want at this moment but to hold you tightly and tell you that he’s got you, despite the panic in his stomach at the way he sniffs out another man. Out of lust, love, desperation, frustration. This is the closest you’ve been to him for this long. You feel clammy and cold, a clear indication that you drank far, far too much. Your tank top is sticking to you, your eyes are a bit glassy–

“You’re late.” He says shortly.

“Late?!” You raise your voice before looking at him with drowsy eyes, furrowing your brow. “I don’t have a curfe-”

“Shh–” He shushes you, helping you get to the living room. “She’s sleeping and you’re going to have her make a fuss about waking up.”

You giggle to yourself as he drops you onto the couch, now aware that yes, you are not a single college student anymore. You’re a single woman. A fucking mother.

You should’ve just gotten a hotel for the night and slept there to dream a little longer.

“Right.” You laugh, slouching, spreading out wide against the couch and trying to fix your gaze on him. “Why’re you still awake?”

Haechan fixes his eyes on you, swallowing around a lump in his throat. The way you’re slouching…seemingly forgetting that you’re wearing a skirt and basically flashing your panties at him. God, the things could do to you right now. The things he could get away with if he wanted to. He tries to shake those thoughts for now, and instead, inspects you from head to toe.

He’s never seen you look so relaxed. Chest raising and falling with each breath, hair a little messy, lipstick stains smeared on the outsides of your lip line. He chooses to ignore the faint swell against your neck indicating someone has been sucking on you. But, well, he can’t ignore it. Both his cock and heart aches at the very thought.

“You’ve been kissing?” Haechan tries to ask nonchalantly.

“A lot more than that–” You smile, feeling a flush cross your cheeks before the disappointment hits you square in the gut.

Haechan watches your face fall, and he mimics it by falling onto the couch and sitting by your head…you know, allowing you to lay your head on him if you want to. You’d probably not notice his arousal anyway, given your state.

“Oh?” He asks gently, the disappointment now showing plainly on not just your face, but his own.

“Thought I was gonna go home with him, turns out he decided to be done after a blowjob in the parking lot.”

Oh, the way his blood boils. Not for the fact that you were used or rejected, but for the fact that you found someone that you were interested in and genuinely intended to leave your home life in his hands for however fucking long. Really? Just gonna leave him here all alone? Like he couldn’t do better for you?

“It’s for the better–” Haechan says as he shivers with irritation, struggling to keep his facade up. It’s definitely not what you wanted to hear, and definitely not what you’d have expected to hear from a college guy at all either.

“This happened last time too, except he didn’t even get me to the parking lot.” You huff, unaware of how much you’re sharing right now.

He bites back the anger yet again, inhaling deeply before releasing a calming breath through his nose just to contain it. So…it has happened more than once?

“Why don’t you let me take you out someday?” He says suddenly, well aware that you’ll probably never remember he said it in the first place.

If anything, he’s testing the waters for his own sake. He’d hate himself forever if he didn’t at least take advantage of this moment a little bit.

“Then who will watch my daughter?” You respond in slurred speech, not even comprehending who it is that’s asking you this question right now. Not even thinking about your history with him, or the family ties.

He, on the other hand, is quite entertained by the way you don’t bring the history up like he expected. His cock twitches at it, bumping your head just a bit, not enough for you to notice apparently. Fuck, it would be so easy for him to pull it out right now, and just…tap your lips with it.

Maybe you’d even open your mouth for him.

“I’ll skip class on a Wednesday, we can go while she’s still in daycare.” He continues through an almost-moan, encouraging the conversation to stay positive.

“Donghyuck–” You slur before clearing your throat and sitting back up in a dizzy show of how drunk you are. “You know I can’t do that. It’s too weird.”

In all fairness, you know he has like…a thing for you. After all, why else would a college dude be spending his weekends here babysitting your kid? It’s not like you haven’t noticed the way he checks you out before you go out for the night. Why would he do all of this if he didn’t have some sort of attraction to you? Sure, you’re taking advantage of it as best as you can despite how you didn’t recognize him at first.

Despite how deep down, you very well know how attracted to him you are too.

“Only because you make it weird.” Haechan rolls his eyes as he looks at you, spreading his legs out to adjust his comfort, noting the way you glance down to his lap and see it. “I’m a grown man–” He starts, spreading his legs wider, pressing his cock against his pants to the point you can practically see the outline.”you know this.” He continues, trying to be bold now by reaching forward and moving a strand of your hair from your cheek.

“You’ve seen it.”

You freeze, suddenly feeling entirely too sober to be talking about this kind of thing with him. With Donghyuck. God, his mother would fucking kill you if she found out he’s in your house while you’re out trying to get fucked by whoever is willing to love you temporarily.

Haechan sees you thinking though, and continues to take the advantage now that he’s feeling brave. Now that you’ve seen the twitch in his pants and haven’t moved off the couch, or told him to go home.

“I saw you watching me when I was cleaning your pool, multiple times.” He whispers snidely. “You stopped when you realized who I am. Why?”

“Donghyu–…” You trail off. “You know this isn’t okay. What would people think of me? There are rules, and I will not go down this route with you.”

A rush of air hits your face and suddenly, warmth hits your cheek. You feel him so close, closer than ever before. It’s dizzying. Haechan is over you, hovering with one hand ghosting over your hip.

“You want to though, don’t you?” He gets even closer now, darting his eyes down at your chest and unable to pull them away. “Knowing how good I am with your daughter? How well I clean up? How strong I can be–”

You swallow hard. For a moment, you almost lean into him. You almost melt right then and there, the need for intimacy so heavy inside of you after being left high and dry, knowing that you’d accept it from just about anyone at this point. But– this is Donghyuck. You can’t.

You really, really, can’t.

The look of disappointment in his eyes kind of hurts when you’re pushing him away. That playful smirk falling faster than you think your sanity did the day your ex husband left you.

“This–” You pause, realizing all too well how he’s used your drunken state against you for this conversation. “This is your last paycheck.”

“I don’t think so.” The smirk is back now, except…it’s different. “You know I promised her a Barbie dream house next weekend.” He smiles fully now. “She’s a bit attached, you know, even called me dad by accident the other day.”

You’re shocked.

“She…what?”

“You know she’s attached to me already, don’t be selfish.” Haechan shrugs at you while rolling his eyes, leaning against the couch again and turning his head to look at you. You try to pretend that you don’t see his hand slightly groping himself. “Guess she misses having a father around. Can’t be too easy for her, especially with her mom going out every weekend trying to fuck guys who would run the second they learn about her.” He ticks his tongue now, as if he’s pitying you more than your daughter.

“Donghyuck, that’s not–”

“That’s not, what?”

“That’s not what I’m doing…” You lower your voice to a near whisper, upset that you couldn’t even enjoy the drunken state you came home in, now feeling entirely too sober, and a little sick in the stomach.

“Oh, so you haven’t gotten laid since I’ve been here–” He leans closer again now, trying to resume what he was going to do just moments ago. “They haven’t even touched you, have they?” His hands move to your thigh and presses down as if to hold you in place. “Why?”

“I try not to just sleep with anyone.” You lie, knowing you’d sleep with anyone just to feel wanted for once. And you’re trying to ignore his hands on you right now, trying desperately not to like it. It’s the first time a man has touched you in this house since your husband left you. As expected, you almost feel your knees buckle despite sitting comfortably. “I have to be careful, you know?”

“Mm, I know more than you think.” He leans into you, hovering yet again with his upper half over you as he whispers it. “Don’t need to be careful around me though.” He adds, this time trailing his voice right against your jaw, up to your ear. “You must be so frustrated.” He ghosts his lips there for a moment, waiting for you to push him away, or say something, anything, really.

“Why would I be frustrated?” You lend the smallest of whispers, feeling the goosebumps against your skin rising at the mere thought of giving in just this once.

“Not having anyone to please you.” He adds now, landing a very slight kiss right under your lobe. “Always being used for someone else’s pleasure, maybe?”

You almost nod, feeling weak in your state and thoughts swimming with what if’s, morals, and anxieties. You’re frozen in place despite knowing a simple push would create the distance you need to breathe.

“Your fingers will never be enough, will they?” He continues, essentially chaining you to this couch with his words alone. You can’t help the fight in your head, you need to feel wanted, and you want so badly to feel needed. “I bet you wish someone would love you for all that you are, not all that you have.”

It’s silent as you feel his lips press down again, this time moving his body over you almost entirely. You can feel the couch dip a bit as he places all of his weight on a knee, moving his other leg to stand between yours.

“You must need someone to fill that hole in you by now, right? That pussy of yours?” He continues, his tone a bit more snide now as you give in to his hold with shaky breaths.

And truthfully, Haechan has never let himself come on this strong towards someone before. Usually the wives are doing this to him. They’re trying to convince him, encourage him. He’s so fucking horny right now though, with that daze in your eye, your legs spread around his knee, blinking up at him like a cheating wife. As if you want to apologize, as if you need him to forgive you. Need him to make everything better.

“I heard you the other day, you know, talking to your mom–” He smiles, tilting his head to look into your eyes, seeing a small shine in them. “You want another, don’t you?” He continues, moving his lips now just over yours as he, now, presses you firmly against the couch. “You must hate knowing that I’m the only person who can do that for you.”

“God, Haechan.” You immediately buckle, not realizing how suddenly he’s not Donghyuck at this moment. He’s someone else. He’s Haechan.

“Why don’t you go for girls on campus?! Don’t you have parties to be attending on the weekends instead of being here, trying to parent my chil–”

“Lower that voice of yours,” He whispers, eyes now hooded as he looks at you. “You know she’s asleep.”

God, he’s right.

“Besides, why would I want them when I have you right here under me–” He tilts his head. “Looking so disappointed that you like it, too.”

Right then, your moral code shines into the front of your mind at the consideration of giving in.

A weight on one shoulder chanting, “No! What would people say?! What would people think?!”, and then little to no weight on the other shoulder, echoing in a sweet song of “Finally! Someone who will love you! Finally! Someone! Finally!!! Finally!”

You pause, not knowing at all what to do. Your body wants to push him away, even your mind and soul wants you to push him away. But you know deep down, you’d only push him away to see if he will try again. No man has ever tried for you like this, and you need more of it.

To feel desired after so long of neglecting this side of yourself, it’s enough to make a person lose their footing in reality. To give in to just about anyone willing to look at you the way he is right now. It’s the fact that you go out to try and find it, and even with this alone, Haechan has satisfied you more than any stranger promising to make you cum.

“I…don’t know what to say–” You stutter. “I don’t know what to do.”

“I do.” Haechan smiles, glancing at your lips before meeting your eye again. “Why not hand over the reins and relax for a–” His hand dips under your skirt, cupping your sensitive cunt in one hand alone. “Ah, I knew it.” Then, his other hand finds purchase on your chest, lifting your heavy breast in his hand with a blatant, hard squeeze.

After a sharp inhale you look away from him in shame, afraid to admit it despite the truth of it leaking through your panties and onto his palm.

“Wet.” He smiles, no longer looking at you but flicking his eyes back and forth from between your legs, and to your chest. Still, he fumbles around the wet spot, wanting so badly to lift these fingers to his mouth and taste. He’s fantasized about it, about how you’d taste, how warm it would be, what your pussy would feel like against his fingers–

And just as he’s pushing your panties to the side, pads of his fingers touching right where you need them with his eyes hooded and watching you closely, something snaps.

You push his hand away, only to feel him push back, holding you down with more force, gripping your tit tighter, sliding his fingers in before massaging the slit with a blatant moan on his lips. Then, you try again, shoving him back only to hear him chuckle and continue his antics until– you jump to your feet. It felt too good, too grounding to have him touching you like this. You nearly stumble back over the coffee table, but you manage to stand tall and firm despite the fact that even though your mind feels sober, your body is fucking wasted.

“Donghyuck.” You argue immediately, using his name the same way you did when he was a child. “Stop.”

He throws his hands up in defense, raising his brows in surprise.

“I–” He pauses, staring at you. “I thought you were enjoying it, my mistake.”

It’s the fact that you were. You were enjoying it too much, and there would have been no defending your actions if you had given in to the feeling.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, fucking stupid. That’s what you are.

Your ex husband was right all along. Out of everything you’ve accomplished since your heart was shattered, ripped to shreds, stomped on, you’d think it would take a lot more to break you.

“You ask for too much.” Your ex husband had said once. “You can’t even stand to be alone for one day.” He had said a year or so later. Small digs on who you are and what you need sprinkled into small arguments, only to come more and more from the lips that you kissed and promised to kiss until you die. Until all of his words were to make you feel inadequate. Until everything he said to you stuck with you, forcing your confidence to bury itself six feet under.

Are you to blame? As it stands, maybe. Why else would you be allowing yourself to consider it? Consider Donghyuck, you mean. Never in your life would you have considered him of all people to be the one that you need.

Never in your life would you have thought he’d be interested in a woman like you, in a situation like yours, with a child. Why did that night with him stick in your head more than every single mean thing your ex husband said to you? Why did his words seem more believable?

Because you were drunk at the time? Wet, neglected, and drunk?

Then why is it that you’re sitting here on your day off with your beautiful, bright-eyed daughter rummaging through your purse for whatever catches her eye….and you’re thinking about him? About what he's doing right now, how he’s feeling, if he’s eaten.

Why is it that you’ve gone the entire week ignoring his texts, asking if you need him to come resume his job as babysitter? Why the fuck do you want to accept after how he took advantage of your state of mind? After he came onto you and tried to manipulate you?

Despite all of his words ringing true in the back of your head. That was a dirty tactic he pulled on you. Yet, still…you want him back, and god fucking dammit you could cry knowing your daughter called him “dad.” You hadn’t believed him at first, but after this week alone it slipped from her mouth several times.

“He’s not your dad, baby, that’s just Donghyuck.” You remember correcting her more than once, and all she responded to you with was a confused expression.

“Why not?” Is what her little voice gave back to you after her child-like brain decided it was fed up with you correcting her very right assumption of the guy who promised her the Barbie Dream House.

Why not?

Well, if you could have an adult conversation with a five year old it would be much easier to answer that. Because he sprayed cheese in your hair. Because you were seventeen and his babysitter when he was twelve years old. Because you ogled him without recognizing him as your pool boy. Because of a lot of things.

“Uncle Donghyuck.” You finally corrected her again.

She shook her head, and continued doing and saying as her little mind pleased. It made you miss having a father around for her though. You think she needs it more than you do.

And that fucking Barbie Dream house is what brings Haechan back.

Right at your doorstep today, with a gentle knock to the door and a timid smile on his face. He doesn’t even look at you when you open the door, instead he crouches down in front of you with the big, flashy box. He ignores you, tilting himself to look past you and straight at your daughter.

You hold your breath when she runs to Haechan, arms spread open and laughter shrieking in your ears. Your heart aches so much at this moment.

Given your work schedule, you’d never gotten to see them interact much. He always came over as she was eating her breakfast, and you always came home after she was put to bed. You guess it’s fair that they have a bond now. She doesn’t even run at you like she does for Haechan. In fact, the only time she ever does is when she had a bad day at daycare or had a tummy ache.

She runs to you when she needs you, but she runs to Haechan like she wants to. Like she genuinely is attached to him, and his kind smile, and his eyes, and probably that warm embrace that you’ve never let yourself experience.

You watch them, not allowing yourself to melt at the moment because you did not invite him over, nor did you give consent to bring that fucking doll house here. But you can’t say no now, as she clings to his leg when he stands up and looks at you with an almost irritated glint in his eye.

His eyes trail all over you briefly too, as if checking for any new spots or marks that a man could have put on you. You feel seen, dipping your head to not meet his eye and scratching your neck as if to hide a spot there. There isn’t a mark, it’s just…fear? nervousness? anxiety?

And then he hauls the box in for her without saying a word to you. You watch him hard now that his back is turned. His voice sounds so loving when he speaks to your child as if she’s an equal. Plopping down on your living room floor with her and opening the large box.

He Ooo’s and Aahhh’s with her as he pulls each piece out, connecting the walls, the doors, handing her little things to help him with. And both of them are so focused on the task at hand to create a safe space for all of her abused barbie dolls that… you feel invisible.

For the first time ever in front of them both, you feel like you are nothing but a ghost. That he is the single parent. As if you’re forgotten, less loved, not wanted, not even needed.

There’s a bubbling in your gut when you tear up, reminding yourself that what Haechan did that night was probably just, well, he’s a man. Men aim to fuck at all times usually, and you guess you should have expected it at one point from him because, again, you’re aware that he’s attracted to you. Even more aware now.

But the way you feel right now outshines that. He’s ignoring you to keep your child happy. She is ignoring you because it seems Haechan does a better job at it than you do.

And, well, he’s not holding you down, whispering things in your ear, letting out frustrated little sighs at your drunken or drowsy words now. So, you say nothing. All you can do is go to the kitchen and prepare a snack, trying to force the tears to stay inside of you with quiet sniffles, hoping you can join their little picture perfect moment so that you can be helpful too.

Your heart swells when they both look at you as you present a plate of snacks. You have to hold back tears again at the way their eyes shine, thanking you for the snacks. Haechan’s eyes stay on you a bit longer though, as if saying “See? See what you’re making her go without?”

You do see it.

But…it can’t be him. As much as you wish it could be, you just can’t. There has to be another man out there just like him, one that doesn’t have a history with you that would cause whispers and questions. There has to be.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

That moment you witnessed seems to have solidified Haechan’s place in your home. Whether it be for babysitting or simply so your child can see him when she’s asking for him (which is often.) It’s kind of an issue, actually, because now the choice isn’t yours anymore and it appears Haechan knows that.

You hate that you’re forced to see him for what he is now. How he proves himself over and over again to be the man you need. The issue is that you still don’t want it to be him. The bigger issue is that he’s breaking down your walls, doing little things for you, looking at you with those dark eyes– your resolve cracks and reminds you every time he’s here that maybe it could work. Maybe you’ll give him a chance. Maybe you won’t have to go out anymore looking to fill a void that no one else fits into.

It’s the way that now, you can’t help but to compare him to your ex husband. The man who you loved for so long, who you genuinely thought you’d spend your life with happily and safely. Now, compared to Haechan, your ex seems like…nothing. Like a little crack in your resolve. He was older than you by just two years, took care of you for so long, impregnated you, and slowly but surely throughout all that time grew to resent you too.

You still don’t know why, but perhaps it’s just because you were growing into your own. You were becoming more independent, though he never had the capability to realize just how much you depended on him during the very time he left you.

“I just don’t want to do this anymore.” Your ex had said to you on that fateful morning.

Your belly was big as you tried to waddle up to him when he said that. You can’t help but think back now and wonder how pathetic you must have seemed when he yanked his arm from your grip, especially due to the difficulty of your pregnancy already. You were sick through most of it, only having a few good days here or there where that pregnancy glow would make your ex husband second-guess himself.

The slam of the door after that was more exhausting than the months of pregnancy you’d gone through. It felt loud, so loud you could hear it vibrate throughout your whole body. You recall falling to the floor and carefully holding your stomach. It’s like all of the heartbreak pooled there. The loss of your husband three weeks before he got to meet the child he was supposed to love. Her little heart must have been breaking inside of you too.

Double the pain.

And then you were mending yourself on your own. Going into labor early from stress, your family helped take care of you more than her. You were needier. You were broken.

And never, fucking ever, did you think you’d find yourself sitting comfortable in your lavish home realizing that your ex-husband didn’t deserve all of that pain from you. He left you for that girl, and not two months later did she leave him.

Never did you think you’d find yourself thinking about Haechan as a replacement either. Well, not a replacement, but like, maybe just…he’s the idea of a perfect dad if you pay attention to how your child talks about him. How they act together. How she cries for him before bed when he’s not there, asking you why you don’t read to her the way Haechan does. Why don't you sing to her the way he does? Why don't you use the same voices for her dolls? Why you don’t cut her food like he does, why you don’t do this or that.

That’s what makes it click the most you think. The fact that Haechan has given her something you never can. The love of a father. It doesn’t even feel like he’s babysitting at this point, he’s parenting, teaching her lessons, bandaging small boo-boos, fixing her hair,…cooking dinner, cleaning…existing here like he belongs.

Haechan has done more for your daughter than your ex husband ever could have, more than you could have done for her too, you think.

Even now, as you come home night after night and see him, you struggle to see him as anyone that isn’t who your daughter needs. Maybe who you need.

His summer semester is coming to an end too, and it’s hard to see him as a college student now. He really does coursework and everything that needs to be done at your home all within a single work day? With no complaints at all? Lately, you’ve noticed that he’s been more focused on studying when he babysits too, but still your daughter listens to him better than she listens to you.

Yet, still, it’s like you’re avoiding each other as you go through the motions, but you notice him more. You feel more discomfort because of it, mostly because you know your resolve about this is breaking. There’s a fear inside of you that revolves around him.

What if you missed your chance?

What if it does end up being a mistake if he still wants you?

You don’t know what to do, but you know you want him.

Some nights, Haechan does sleep over due to exhaustion and you don’t even ask him to leave because you know he’s not doing it to try anything. The avoidance is loud. Lately, you come home from work and there he is, sitting up with his laptop on his lap but sound asleep, softly snoring. Each time, you remind yourself of how he’s sacrificing his study time to babysit. You know your child can be distracting and needy when she wants something too, but he doesn’t complain even a little bit. The least you could have done was bring him a blanket, which you did. And you woke the next morning to find him curled up on the same couch, laptop toppled over onto the floor.

Small, gentle acts of kindness towards each other but never face to face. You’ve woken to fresh coffee countless times, made exactly the way you like it because you know he’s watched you make it yourself. You’ve come home to re-stocked items, like milk and eggs, laundry detergent, and even toothpaste. It’s nice, and a small indication that he doesn’t resent you. Even through face-to-face avoidance on your part.

Tonight seemed different though, compared to all of the other nights when you can’t go out. You walked through the door to the smell of dinner and your child still awake, sing-songing at you the moment you walked in.

“Dad said I can stay up late!”

You quirk a brow, her calling him that now becoming a regular occurrence to the point it goes through one ear and out the other for you. You recall discussing her bed time though, with absolutely no exceptions.

“Did he now?” You hug her before taking off your cardigan, walking with her to the kitchen where you find Haechan, placing down a small plate on the table with cartoon characters on it, right in front of two bigger plates with bigger portions of delicious looking food placed neatly on it.

Your heart swells, but your anxiety grows twice as big alongside it. This.

This is what you’ve wanted for so long. This is what you never thought you could find. So, why is it that you still have push-back in your mind? Despite knowing that Haechan has proven himself time and time again, you want to argue?!

Perhaps it’s because you like the way he tries. Maybe you’re not ready to lose that feeling of being chased in some way, of being begged to let him stay. Maybe it’s because you begged your husband, desperate for him to keep you, but he left anyway. It feels like Haechan gives you power over yourself, over your love-life, over everything, really.

And if you were to actually accept his advances, even just a dinner on your table, what if he stops? What if he gets bored once he gets what he wants? After all, he’s still young, you can’t truly imagine he wants to do this forever.

Not with you, and not with your daughter either.

“What’s all this? Isn’t it a bit late for her to have dinner?” You question him instantly, anxiety bubbling up out of assumption alone.

“We had a small snack a few hours ago.” Haechan reassures you. “I finished my exams and had a burst of energy to celebrate, besides, it’s a Friday–” He goes to pull out a chair for you. “You don’t need to be up early either. A late dinner every now and then never hurt anybody.”

The way this is the first time the two of you have had a face-to-face conversation since…that night. His voice calms you, and that’s scary.

You huff, happy because you could easily melt into this chair and pretend you’re having a family dinner, like you always wanted, like you never rejected a touch from him that you desperately wanted. You could just play along and pretend Haechan is everything you need. Except, it wouldn’t even be pretending at this point. The whole idea of him has changed. But, again, that anxiety. You still have that little voice holding you back, no matter what you want, or what you need, you fear it’ll be ripped from you again if you were to let yourself be weak for another person.

“I’m really tired, Donghyuck.” You explain, walking past the kitchen and towards your bedroom. “Thanks for dinner but I’m not too hungry and I just want to lay down.”

And with that, he watches you leave. No real appreciation, no congratulations on him finishing his exams, not even a kiss to your child’s forehead. Is he still expected to be the one to put her to sleep?

Why is he even here? Why did he do all of this?

His patience is running dry.

So, he eats with your child as your plate goes cold and he leaves it there. If you can’t even handle a dinner at the table with the person who cooked it, you can deal with your own fucking plate. Throw away your own fucking food, wash your own fucking dish. And if you can’t tuck your child into bed, he’ll do it, but you can shove that fake ass exhaustion right up your ass for all he cares.

He knows you’re not exhausted. He’s seen you when you are. You’re just being an asshole to him at this point, trying to appear like you’re perfectly happy with the life you live when your drunken rants prove otherwise. You treat him like everything he does has an ulterior motive. Which, yeah, maybe it does, but he was genuinely excited to have someone celebrate the end of this semester with him. Maybe assuming you’d indulge him went too far. For the first time, he wasn’t doing it to impress you.

By the time Haechan gets your daughter to bed, all tucked in with a little tune to fall asleep to, he closes her door and just stands there in the silence on the other side of it.

You must really enjoy being a single mother, huh? This is why too. He always questioned it. You’re so attractive, so well-adjusted. You work hard, your daughter is a sunshine in this world, and you’ve not managed to find anyone to love you yet? He thought he was lucky to be the one getting to spend time with you.

Turns out, you refuse to let anyone in despite Haechan knowing, fucking seeing straight through you. You want something from someone. You need it, yearn for it, even. But it’s almost laughable at the way you refuse it.

Excuses, excuses, excuses.

It’s the fucking audacity you have taking advantage of him. You’ve practically led him on. You lend him everything he wants in life. That’s it. You lend it. From flaunting yourself before you go to bars, to exposing all the marks you allow other men to leave on you. Letting him stay in this house, father your child, cook, clean, mend, fix, heal.

From being a faux-father to being minimized to a college student that you used to babysit. He’s offered you relief in so many ways including sexual, and all you fucking do is avoid, deny, fucking reject him. You still go out to bars, later and later you’ll come home with new swells against your skin, but always looking so empty and disappointed. Sometimes he thinks you try to make him jealous. Sometimes, he thinks you want him to try again.

Sometimes, he thinks you get off on the fact that he keeps trying.

And he has tried. Albeit more gently lately, but he has. Small, lingering touches when he hands you your coat to help you get out the door and to work quicker. Starting your car for you before you leave. Fuck, he even opens the goddamn door for you. Anything to make you feel appreciated, respected, and fucking wanted.

The silence is loud in his ears due to the sheer irritation as he drops his head, staring at his feet and knowing it’ll only take a few strides to reach your bedroom. A room he still craves to be in.

He’s raided those drawers by now, because of course he has. Soiling your panties, your sheets, anything that still smells like you when you’re gone for the day, all so he can act normal upon seeing you when you come home. He’s laid in your bed by now too, wondering what it would feel like to have your weight beside him. He fantasized about anything and everything he possibly could in there.

And he’s always warmer. Always cums the hardest with weak, muffled moans as he stuffs your pillows into his mouth to keep quiet. All before cleaning every trace of himself there, closing the door, and wishing he was allowed to exist in there with you.

Right now will be the first time Haechan enters your room to your knowledge, and it sucks for him because he has essentially trained himself to get hard every time he opens this fucking door. Still, he composes himself, and it’s a bit of a shock if you’re being honest. You thought he’d go home after this, you were kind of hoping he would after you made it so awkward.

You felt guilty the second you saw his expression fall to your rejection of eating dinner like a big fucking happy family. You want it so bad, you want him so bad.

When you left the kitchen, you immediately went to your room and hopped in the shower, well aware that he wouldn’t follow you. You thought hard while the hot water made attempts to wash away your feelings. Would it have been so bad to just eat with him? With your daughter? With both of them? The way his eyes fell, it burned your heart a little bit.

Still, no answers came to you because you know part of you just wants to see what else he will do for you. Despite the history with him, and despite knowing his entire family would question and scoff at you for it…Is it really so wrong? To want to give him a chance just to see if he’ll leave you too?

Just to see if it’ll hurt when he does it too?

Inviting him to your home almost every day of the week isn’t wrong, right? Forgetting to pay him all those times before, hoping to see him again and get that confidence boost, that wasn’t wrong. Letting your daughter attach herself to him when you swore he wasn’t permanent, no longer having the energy to correct her use of “dad” towards him… none of that is wrong.

It’s all Haechan. He’s the one in the wrong for willingly following along, not you. Right?

And as you’re sitting on your bed in your towel, zoning out and staring at your floor, Haechan swings your bedroom door open without a single knock, mindfully closes it, and immediately goes off on you.

Somehow, you really expected him to accept your rejection but your heart swells that he didn’t. You don’t think he ever will, and you’re exhausting yourself hoping he’ll prove you wrong.

He’s shown you enough by now. This is what breaks down that wall inside of you, isn’t it?

“What am I doing wrong?” He shoots his first question out in a desperate whisper shout, eyes searing into you before continuing without a single breath. “Because I do everything for her, and i do everything for you, does that really make you so fucking uncomfortable?”

“D–” You try to respond, feeling your skin prickle at the sheer irritation in his expression.

He’s fighting for you.

“Isn’t that what you want?!”

“After everything I do–” He throws his hands up now, running his fingers through his hair as if you make him feel like he wants to rip it out. “After trying to make your life easy while making mine harder, for what? You to not eat the fucking food I made? For you to go to the bar all the time just to come back disappointed like I’m not right here waiting for you to come back?”

“What ar-”

“Don’t ask me any stupid fucking questions, Just answer me.” He drops his hands, stepping up to you, placing both hands on either side of your hips, doing his best not to react to your near-naked body. “Why?”

You lean back, trying to create more distance to try and give him an answer that you don’t even know yourself, but he just keeps closing in. Not letting you escape this time. You’ve never seen him so riled up before, it’s…

Well…

“Because I came onto you? Because I tried to do what no one else will do for you?” His voice shakes when he says it, and you can feel the heat radiating from him. Is he…about to cry?

Only now, seeing him so close with an entirely sober brain do you realize an answer. Maybe not to his question of why, but to the same question you’ve been asking yourself. It’s because of that look in his eye. You’ve never been able to put a word to it, but now with him demanding you explain yourself so closely, you see it.

He’s desperate.

Arguably as desperate as you’ve felt to fill the void. Except, he’s trying to do that for you and you won’t let him out of what? Fucking fear? Hell, at this point the history means close to nothing when it comes to all the new memories he’s made in this home, even without you. The history of babysitting him, the history of your ex husband leaving you. It doesn’t matter.

You think hard, so hard that you feel your eyes burn as you stare up at him. Glancing without intention to his jaw when he clenches it, to his neck when he swallows his words, to his lips, his eyes, the hair falling in his face…and you just–

You reach up, running a soothing hand through his hair to get it out of his face. Then you see those same desperate eyes somehow grow more desperate as he lowers them, leaning into the touch, as if you’ve been starving him the same way you’ve been starved for years. He falls silent too, cutting himself off mid-question just to feel you touch him for the first time.

“I don’t know.” You say, which seems like a better answer than having an excuse. What can you say otherwise? That it’s because it shouldn’t be him? That you’re afraid he’ll realize he’s not ready to settle? To be a dad? He’ll ask why, and it’ll be the same answer you gave on that drunken night. An answer that you no longer care about.

You babysat him when he was a child, but you were still a child too.

You were still a child, and time changes things.

Your ex husband left you, and you’re afraid he will too, especially because he’s so much younger? Who cares?

Your answer seems to fly right past his head though, because he’s still leaning to feel your fingers in his hair, and he’s looking at you as if nothing you say will matter unless you make it hold some weight to him.

“Donghyuck–” You pause, scratching right at his nape, uncaring of how you can feel your towel loosening on your body. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”

Somehow, his name on your lips is what he needed to hear. The tone of it, the rasp in your voice, your fingers in his hair. Actions speak louder than anything the two of you could say right now, and he can’t help it. Nothing can stop him, not even you at this point.

He hasn’t done anything wrong you say? It’s because he fucking knows what you need.

You inhale deeply, holding your breath when you feel your back hit your mattress, his warm hands instantly taking advantage of your freshly-showered state and tugging at the towel just slightly to let it fall open. You hear a slight breath from him at that moment, an inhale. There, he climbs onto the bed, nudging himself between your legs and trapping you there under him, both hands holding your arms down.

Like he’s afraid you’ll reject him again.

“You’re going to let me take care of you now.” He demands, though to him it sounds more like a plea solely due to the fact that he’s so fucking turned on it’s unreal. That feeling of when your fingers were in his hair? Seeing your naked body? Unshaved pussy? Being in this fucking room with you? It throws him into overdrive, especially with the way you just lay there blinking up at him in surprise. The anger melting away only amplifies it more.

How could you do this to him? Genuinely, how could you have let him fucking suffer for you like this?

Still, you blink up as if you’re a deer caught in headlights and it makes his heart thump against his ribcage. Your eyes are so bright, that glint of sadness he had seen so many times isn’t there right now. And there’s so much adrenaline inside of him, like he needs to move fast before you change your mind again. You’ve not let him do this for some fucking reason or another and now you’re just laying here for him.

There, with your entire body on display, and you appear to be docile. Fucking obedient? Like he always knew you would be if you’d just drop the fucking act?! You were meant for him and him alone, and he’s going to show you why.

In all honesty, you’re tired of denying yourself by now. From the moment you saw him that day cleaning your pool for the first time, you’ve wanted him on some level. It wasn’t an emotional attachment, but a hope, a fantasy for you. And when you recognized him, you were more impressed with him than embarrassed. You tried not to let your eyes wander out of guilt, out of feeling like a pervert.

And then, that day when he came onto you, he was just a man to you. Your faux guilt kept you from letting him, and your hope to be chased kept you from it too. As if you’ve never pleasured yourself to the thought of him, shamefully in this very bed. As if you’ve never called out his name with a silent breath. If you keep going at this point, you’ll lose him before ever knowing what he could really be for you.

This is his last ditch effort to beat you at your own game, and you’re ready to lose.

So, now, you let yourself get lost in him. In his eyes and the way he pleads and makes his demands. He probably doesn’t recognize his strength against you right now, or how much it’s turning you on. With the way he has both hands on your wrists, probably bruising them, and there’s nothing you could do even if you wanted to. His weight holding you down feels better than you imagined.

After so long, with so many failed hookups where you’ve told them of your daughter and all they’ve done in return is get their orgasm then leave…Haechan. He wants to take care of you?

He wants to…give you what you need?

Fuck, you know he can. That’s the fucked up part. He’s proved it so many times to you in so many ways. You��ve watched him, the way he moves and acts around you. He’s exactly what you need.You pushed him to this point, where his sanity is on the brink of crashing. Taking it away from him again feels wrong, because it’s exactly what you want.

And when he presses his leg between yours, he knows.

“Again?” He comments, now releasing your wrist from one hand and running it down, able to slip his fingers right into the slick of your bare pussy. “You’re wet.”

You still just blink up at him with an intake of breath at the pleasure, thoughts running left and right on what to do, finally realizing you don’t want to do a damn thing. He’d do it all if you let him. Clean your house, be a father, fix all of the breaks, make you wet.

And you just feel him, the way his fingers play around with what he does to you. You can practically feel his confidence rise at the way you spread your legs a bit more, as if to give him more access. When you look at him, his expression remains harsh, but slowly he moves himself down, lips brushing over one of your nipples while keeping eye contact.

Still that irritated look, like he’s mad you haven’t let him do this before now.

“How many times are you going to pretend like I’m not the one who gets you wet?” He asks before rubbing circles around your clit, tongue flicking in the same way around your nipple. “Like I don’t have a right to take care of you?”

Your breath is still caught in your throat, trying to be careful about what you say right now despite knowing you can’t speak. You focus on what he’s doing instead, losing yourself to something you’ve not felt in far, far too long.

He’s right. He’s gotten you wet more than once by now. More than he knows.

And goddamn, he knew your tits could bounce, but the way they move without the support of a bra, the plush, soft feeling of your nipple growing erect in his mouth, all for him to bite and pull at. He does it too, listening to the little seething sound of pain from you when he pulls all the way back with your nipple between his teeth. Only to let it fall from his mouth and break eye contact with you to see the jiggle as it falls.

His cock twitches, at everything that you are right now, feeling more pleasure through seeing you like this alone compared to fucking his own fist on your bedroom floor. He notes how your legs squeeze him more at the nipple stimulation than his fingers too, memorizing the way your labia falls open between them. He smirks, flicking his tongue more, quicker.

There. There it is.

A low rumble in your chest falls from your lips. Soft, a moan. A very small, delicate sound.

“You like this?” Haechan asks, looking up at you, letting his tongue fall from his mouth again and flicking the erect nub. “When I play with your tits?”

You nod, throwing an arm over your face in embarrassment that this is actually happening. You’re letting him. Already you feel yourself heat up more, even when he takes his fingers away from your clit and instead, uses them to flick your other nipple.

And he does this for a few minutes. Paying special attention to your tits, going back and forth with his fingers and tongue to each bud, trying so hard to not stop just to shove his cock between them and use them the way he’s always wanted. He focuses on drawing out more and more little sounds from you instead, slurping his own saliva from your painfully erect nipples, pulling back, blowing cold air, then warming it up again with his lips. All while simultaneously groping, flicking, and pinching with his other hand.

“Jesus, Haechan–” You moan quietly, chest rising and falling as he squeezes and licks against you.

That’s right, say his name. Let him fucking know he’s doing what you like. Haechan thinks, feeling his cock weep in his pants as he does it. Wondering just how sensitive you are to be reacting like this to simple nipple stimulation. God, he’s wanted to suck on these for so long, and now you’re letting him. They’re so big, so plush. He wants to fucking cover them with his mouth, he wants to bury his face in them, kiss them all over them.

And if they were to get bigger? He moans at the thought, remembering that conversation you had with your mom. You want another. He bets they’d swell up–Oh, fuck yeah. They’d probably hurt to rub against your shirt. God, fuck, he can’t control his thoughts right now.

Finally.

Fucking finally, he has you and he’s not going to let you run away again.

He doesn’t fucking care if it’s forward. He wants what he wants, you want what you want. That want just so happens to line up. Besides, he’s already proved himself to you, he knows it. If you’re letting him do this, maybe you’d let him stay like this.

“Did they get bigger?” He moans briefly as he swaps to your other nipple again. “So full, so heavy, were they leaking all over you?”

You listen to him, trying not to feel the pit in your stomach bubble with even more arousal at his blatant and dirty words, feeling your clit throb at the stimulation your tits are getting right now.

“Makes my dick fucking throb just thinking about it. Fuck–”

“Let me give you another,” He mumbles now, almost mindlessly before looking up at you with an intense gaze as he bites down, indicating that he’s not mindless about it at all.

“Swell you up, make you glow–”

Oh.

Why is that– why are you dripping?

He hears that moan you let out. Different from the others, almost desperate.

“Mm, yeah.” He encourages it, now allowing his hand to travel back down to witness how much wetter you’ve gotten at those words. So messy, so perfect. “Knew you’d want it raw.”

You can’t help the nod, as it comes before you even process his words solely because you feel his fingers slip inside of you. You haven’t been this wet in so, so long. You want to feel it. To be full again, of anything. Of him.

“Ye-” You start, interrupting yourself with a bite of your lip and your eyes rolling back.

“That’s right mama,” He coos, tilting his fingers up and amplifying the pressure inside of you. “Gonna let me take good care of this pussy, yeah?” He adds, lifting from your tits and ghosting his lips over yours.

He watches you closely, that daze in your eye. God, you look so horny right now. There’s nothing more he wants than to see this time and time again. To let you wake up every morning with his warm cum inside of you, to see your belly swell with his child, to see your tits grow until they hurt.

He’d take care of you. He’d take good fucking care of you.

“Say something.” Haechan whispers against your lips, darting his tongue out against your lips, angling his fingers up and making you moan. “Say you want me to give it to you raw.”

You open your mouth, feeling his tongue lick and swallow up that moan you just gave him before you try to compose yourself. You can’t help it, you’re so, so sensitive right now and you can’t help but find it incredibly sexy to be here, laid bare, while he’s still fully clothed.

Like he really is doing this for you. He’s not trying to get his own orgasm and leave. You’re weak and those words of “let me give you another” shines in your head. Weak, you’re weak. You should be thinking about condoms, you should be thinking about the consequences of this.

But you’re not.

You do like it raw.

“Haechan–” You stutter as you try to grasp the reality of his words, feeling his fingers repeatedly hit right where you need it. “I’m…not protected.”

He moans. Loudly, before huffing out an irritated groan.

“You must really want it then.” He narrows his eyes at you. “Going out all the time trying to get fucked–”

He plunges his fingers in again, deep, and holds them there as he pulls back to look at you. To really look at you, then he glares.

“You’d really let just some fucking dude give you a baby?”

You repeatedly shake your head.

“No!” You retort, thrusting your hips up. “I just–”

“Mhm,” He pulls his fingers out now, sliding himself down so fast that you can barely comprehend him sucking your clit into his mouth before pulling back in a moan at the taste of you. “If mama wants another, daddy will give her one.” He says now, as if to pacify you.

As if to give you everything.

And you’d argue, really, you would. You want another child so bad, but this is– it’s too soon. You haven’t even established a relationship with him yet. Boundaries haven’t been discussed. His college plan– but fuck it’s not entirely your fault that you’re like, super turned on by the idea of it. To the thought of being so filled with cum that there’s no possible way you couldn’t end up pregnant. An indication that, no matter what, no man at a club could fulfill the arousal for you even if they cared to do it.

You’d never have let them actually fuck you raw.

Haechan though…how can you keep telling him no?

How could you reject him again when you want it so badly?

Fuck now, think later.

“Yeah–” You say against your better judgement, hands reaching down to his hair so you can grind up against his mouth, lost to the arousal as you mimic what he referred to himself as. “Daddy?”

You feel his mouth fall slack at that, as if you’re accepting him in full now. You feel your clit hit nothing in his open mouth, but it throbs harder.

He knew you were slightly into him for letting him do this at all, but now, you’re truly accepting it. Like you know he’ll fucking do it, like you want him to fucking do it.

“That’s right,” He moans against your clit as he licks at it, barely able to comprehend your voice calling him that but clinging to it all the same. “Gonna let daddy do it all for you.”

Yeah. You are. You’re gonna let him do it. All of it.

And then, the room is enveloped in quiet moans, more from Haechan than from you due to your breath being stuck in your throat. His tongue, licking every part of your sensitive cunt, his hands reaching back up to your tits, fondling, pinching, painfully tugging at them as he moans louder, louder, louder for you to want him.

He presses his hips up and against your mattress as he tastes you, so deeply it hurts his cock to neglect it like this. Each rub feels raw, twitching and pulsing to be let out, to be inside of you, on you, against you. Filling you up with his cum, plugging it in as a promise that you can’t leave him even if you wanted to.

He’s going to fucking do exactly what he said he would.

And only when you feel his tongue lap against your hole do you finally release your breath, “Daddy” coming out in a choked back sob. It breaks him, his body going into overdrive as he pulls back and just– stares at you with wild eyes.

You stare back up at him, knowing that calling him that means something more than a cringe little roleplay kink. It means something deeper to him. He wants to be a dad, a real one.

“Oh yeah?” He finally says, hands going straight to his button and zipper.

You can’t help it, biting your lower lip as you blink up, watching his shoulders move, the veins on his arms protruding as he rushes to pull it out and– oh. You moan at it, the way his heavy, slicked up, cock falls out, dark, needy.

“Daddy–” You urge him on, knowing that it’s driving him absolutely insane.

“Mhm?” He shuffles himself off the bed, letting his pants drop as he lifts his shirt off of him and fucking glares at your tits. “You want daddy’s cock?” He adds now, shooting his eyes up to you as both of his hands land on your legs.

Your mind goes blank when you feel him slide his hands around to the back of your thighs, pushing your legs forward, curling you in on yourself, forcing your pussy to be out and on display for him.

And you watch him, the way he stares down at it. It’s embarrassing to be so seen right now, not having expected to get fucked open by anyone tonight, let alone him. You probably should have shaved or something, or like, not gotten out of the habit in the first place. But he moans at it, mouth falling open at the fact that you are entirely a fucking woman.

A fucking mother.

The prettiest pussy he’s ever fucking seen let alone tasted.

And he moans, breaking the silence, forgetting only for a moment how long he’s been wanting this. It boosts your confidence more than you’ve ever felt. His reaction to this is more than your ex husband’s reaction to you when you were pristine and borderline pornstar quality.

Haechan doesn’t see you as used and neglected, he just sees you. And this. This is the pussy he wants. This is what he wants to put his baby in.

When he flicks his eyes back to you, with that same open mouthed expression, it knocks the breath out of you. There’s so much love in his eyes, or maybe lust, you don’t care. You think you’re matching that expression for him too, because it’s like he can’t hold back anymore. He can’t just sit and look at you anymore.

He just can’t.

And you feel it, his thick head pushing past the tightened, pulsing hole and not stopping. He pushes in slowly, painfully slow, to the point you’re both looking at each other with a slack jaw. Finally. The pain of it, the pleasure, the fucking need you’ve been trying to fulfill.

That look on your face drives him wild too, he knows he has you by now. You like it, you love the way he slides in and makes damn sure you feel it. Every second of the slide pries you open, and he wants to remember this moment forever. He wants you to fucking remember too.

Wants you to know that no one will ever fit inside of you so perfectly, so deeply.

When he finally bottoms out, he leans forward to keep himself buried deep as he ghosts his lips over yours. He feels the way you try to kiss him, but he pulls back with a confident smirk.

“When was the last time you’ve felt a cock so deep in you?” He whispers hotly, knowing you need not answer. Knowing you won’t answer, not with the way you’re instantly lifting your head and kissing him.

Your pussy pulses around him when you lick into his mouth, the first real kiss sending his heart soaring. He twitches inside of you with each squeeze, and kisses you harder, deeper. And somehow, it brings tears to your eyes.

The way he kisses, the way he makes you feel him. Fuck, the way he makes you feel whole, so wanted, like you’re amazing to him. In more ways than just a body to fuck, but he’s stuck around despite all of your avoidance and rejections. You hope you’re making it worth it.

Fuck, you need to feel worth it to him.

“You’d better not fucking pull out.” You groan through a breath, his lips still kissing you through your words as he finally pulls his hips back, fucking in once.

Hard.

Honestly, could you have said anything else at this moment? He’s trying to make this last, he needs it to last. If you keep fucking talking, saying everything he’s ever wanted to hear–

“Fuck,” He moans, his hands moving up to your cheeks as he licks into your mouth. “You can’t–” He continues, fucking in again, moving your body up with each thrust do to the sheer force of him trying to plunge in as deep as he can. “You can’t fucking say that to me right now.”

You’re seeing stars though, unable to say anything else as your eyes roll back at the way the head of his cock practically kisses your cervix with each push into you. He’s so rough, so desperate for it.

You don’t think he expected you to respond either, with the way he keeps his lips on yours, his body pressed so closely that having your legs to your chest means nothing to him now. Mating press be damned, he’s lost his mind to the feeling, not the aesthetic of being a fucking dad.

Your legs wrap around him instead, and he’s all too happy to feel it. Your legs hug him the same way your arms do, the same way your pussy does, and he’s fucking in love with you.

He braces one hand back against your leg, holding it against his hips as he continues to fuck forward, still at the same pace. Deep and with purpose. Every few seconds the bursts of pleasure run through him, making him shiver and moan into your mouth. Little grunts, near whimpers for you to let him give you the world.

More than this. More than fucking, more than taking care of you, more than anything he could ever possibly give you. He’ll find a way.

And then, you’re clenching hard, matching his near-whimpers except moaning in full pants, babbling and drooling cries against his mouth.

“Mama–” Haechan soothes, continuing his pace as he tilts his head back to get a good look at that lost gaze in your eyes. “You’re crying?”

You nod with a laugh, tears rolling down the same way the wet of your cunt slips down your ass. You’ve never felt so good, so fucking full. And for some reason, that does him in. Making it last be damned, he genuinely thinks he’s won you over. He can make it last next time, he can do more next time, he can–

He leans back all the way now, onto his knees as your legs try to hug him back to you, and his eyes go straight back to those tits. The way he made a promise. The way they bounce, slick with his sweat from pressing against you.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty.” He grunts in a breath, now quickening his pace and snapping his hips. Pulling out all the way briefly to plunge into your again. “Can’t get any deeper–” He continues, flicking his eyes from your face, to your tits, to that beautiful pussy of yours swallowing him up.

Now his eyes roll back, hands going back to your thighs to push you back into position. No way in hell can he last, not at a pace like this, inside of a woman like you.

“Don’t pull out.” You repeat again in a breath, seeing his face and the way he focuses solely on you. You know he’s going to cum, and you want him to. You want to feel it, every single fucking drop of it.

“Yeah?” He nods his head with laser-focus on your pussy now, staring down as he points tight, short thrusts inside of you. “Momma wants my cum? Hm?”

Oh, he’s fucking gone.

“She likes it?” He continues to talk himself up. “Likes being so fucking full of it? Yeah?”

Goddamn, fuck, he’s insane.

“Yes, daddy–” You whisper-shout, fingers shooting to your clit, other hand raising to your mouth to silence the moans as to not be too loud.

“Fuck, yeah you do.” He lets out a near growl, his voice low and rumbled as he slaps your hand away, pressing hard on your clit with his thumb as he buries himself in you once more and stiffening his abs. “That’s right.”

And instantly upon feeling him pulse, that first spurt of cum painting your insides, you lose yourself with him. Your fingers drop from your mouth and you release a pornographic moan for him, rutting yourself against him, as if to fuck it deeper into you.

It only prolongs the orgasm though, for both of you.

Haechan is silent, trying to keep his eyes open through the pleasure as you pulse and squirt around him, his thumb pressing so hard into your clit, his cock cumming so deep, filling you up so well– He wants to see it. Wants to watch you fall apart for him. Wants to witness the way you let him do this.

And he holds himself there, so hard and so full of pleasure for you. Keeping himself practically impaled against your cervix until your body falls slack. Still, he fucks it into you, holding you in place with a softer moan now. No longer guttural or deep from his chest. His breathing is rough, a soft, near feminine moan leaves his lips as he falls forward onto you.

You wince along with him at the sensitivity, panting, a sweating tangle of a mess the two of you have become. And it’s the fact that it’s the first time you’ve ever gotten off at the same time as someone else. You feel…soft.

Your hands find their way to his hair as his face squished against your tits while he regains breath, not daring to move his hips because your pussy is too warm to leave right now. You brush the sweat-slicked hair out of his eyes, running your fingers all the way back to his nap, and then slowly down his back to rub and scratch.

He shivers at the feeling, humming the same feminine-tone he had released previously. And all he can do is hear your heart thumping against your chest, even through these soft tits of a pillow he’s lying against.

Haechan never wants to move again, not from this spot, ever.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“You know I’m in love with you, right?” Haechan mentions briefly after a long moment of silence, looking up at you with his wet hair.

Deep in the night, your food still cold and on the table, you’ve found yourself freshly showered and on your living room couch with Haechan’s head on your lap. He made sure to have stayed long enough inside of you to implant…something if it was going to happen. So he didn’t argue a shower, and you didn’t argue letting him join you either.

He had washed you, gently running his hands between your legs with what you can only describe as the softest, most alluring face a man has ever given you. Like he won the lottery, or found the answer to eternal life or something. You repaid him by letting him admire your tits again while you jerked him off, but that’s besides the point.

“Like, I’m not going to leave. I hope you know that.” He adds with a soft groan to your hands still in his hair. His new favorite thing.

You look down at him, hand moving to his cheek as the words hit you in the chest.

There’s anxiety along with happiness, at all of the boundaries and serious conversations that will need to be had now, but still, you feel like you’re glowing when he looks at you.

He didn’t even have to say it, and arguably you probably don’t need to say it back either. You think he sees it in you. Even if he didn’t, you think he’d take anything you give to him and cling to it. After all, it only took one time for you to break entirely for him.

“Are you now?” You smile with a chuckle, looking back to the tv and pretending to watch it. “Well, that’s good. Otherwise I’d be making you go get a plan B or something.”

His eyes narrow at you.

“Like hell I’d let you, even if I didn’t love you.” He groans. “But I do, so don’t ever say that shit again.”

You chuckle, feeling the calm in your home that once felt so chaotic. It’s quiet now, both inside and outside of your head.

“Congratulations, by the way.”

He looks at you with question, quirking a brow.

“For finishing your finals, I mean.” You smile, going back to petting through his hair and feeling like you’re on top of the world, despite what you assume to become half of your world lying his head on top of you.

“Oh, right.” He smiles, now turning his head to watch the tv. “I probably failed them.”

You don’t believe that, but even if he did, you think you could be what he needs too. He wouldn’t have to work if he didn’t want to.

If he’s really in love with you, all he’d have to do is…not leave.

“Are you sure you want to be having these conversations with me? You can just call it a hook-up.” You finally say, hoping he means it, knowing it breaks your heart a bit to give him an out. “I don’t want you to feel like I’m going to trap you here just because I’m a little smitten too.”

Haechan glares, blinking up at you.

“I literally just tried to put a baby in you.”

That’s fair.

“And you’re not going to run off? Get cold feet?”

“Can you stop doubting me and just let me do what I want for once?” He argues playfully. “Do you even know how much that barbie fucking dream house costed me? I couldn’t run even if, for some stupid ass reason, wanted to. I love her too.”

Silence for a moment.

“Maybe even more than I love you.”

You really, really, want to believe him.

So, you do.

#nct smut #nct dream smut #lee haechan smut #haechan smut #donghyuck smut #lee donghyuck smut #nct x reader

3K notes · View notes

oikarma · 5 months ago

Text

we keep this love in a photograph

pairing: lando norris x wolff!reader

summary: toto wolff's daughter and his golden boy, kimi antonelli. match in heaven, right? despite all the cute pics taken of you and kimi over the years, it turns out you might like boys behind the cameras more.

a/n: thank you sm for being my first request!! this was really cute and fun to write and i hope you like it.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by kimi.antonelli, francolapinto and 770,341 others

y/nwolff: found a new photographer

view all 12,097 comments

olliebearman: idk what you're talking about p1 is nice but whoever was holding the camera in p3 did a horrible job

y/nwolff: yeah idk who that rat is 🤷‍♀️ must've snuck into the frame kimi.antonelli: why do you insist on hurting me

user1: soft launch??

user2: girl she's been posting him for years now we need real confirmation user3: but they'd look so cute together 🥺 user2: @/user2 that's what we've all been sayinggg

francolapinto: pfft what photographer i could do better

y/nwolff: take me out to dinner and we'll see user4: uh oh someone's never getting a mercedes seat user5: @/user4 PLEASE toto probably gave kimi his seat to make sure he'd treat y/n well franco might be getting a little something sent his way

user6: mother and the guy she's dating

user7: i literally love you y/n

lando: where's the "thank you lando for inviting me to this lovely dinner"

y/nwolff: i literally already repaid you 😒 lando: i guess i like calling in favors user8: they're so sibling coded

y/nscloset: immaculate style as always * liked by y/nwolff

totowolff_original: No drinking and driving.

y/nwolff: tell that to kimi i still don't have my license

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by username1 and 530,192 others

f1gossipofficial: 5 years of kimiyn! our fav bestfriend duo - or maybe something more?

tagged: kimi.antonelli, y/nwolff

view all 7,006 comments

user1: confirmation whennn

user2: so basically they've been teasing us since the last decade??

user3: maybe they don't want it to affect kimi's public view? they might think toto has a preference for him cause of him and y/n user4: @/user3 well the two of them certainly aren't private about their friendship

user5: i need what they have 😭

user6: if only i was pretty and rich and toto wolff's daughter and my boyfriend was pretty and rich and a formula one driver who drove for my dad

user7: they never hard launched but the cutest couple on the grid frfr

user8: guys! my friend and i were passing by this paddle place near where she lives and she saw y/n and kimi going inside. he was carrying her stuff (bags, drink) for her while she was yapping at 3000 miles an hour and she was blushing so hard

user9: what a gentleman user10: drop the loc please i'll be signing up for a yearly membership

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by lando and 701,328 others

y/nwolff: guess who got his ass whooped

tagged: kimi.antonelli, lando

view all 9,125 comments

totowolff_original: No cursing, Y/N.

y/nwolff: sorry dad i just had to rub it in ☹️ y/nwolff: promise i won't do it next time

kimi.antonelli: i swear you hate me

y/nwolff: it's a hate love thing kimi kimi.antonelli: where is the love???? user1: IS THIS KIMIYN CONFIRMED

lando: guess who got her ass whooped

y/nwolff: idk not me lando: 🤨 ru sure about that user2: not them bickering again lmaoo

user2: yes girl get your man

user3: kimi trying to help y/n against lando was so cute

user4: RIGHT he was all heart eyes

user5: ofc the photographer she was talking ab last post was him

user6: kimi serving romcom tortured boy love interest

user7: the way i understood this immediately is concerning

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by y/nwolff and 901,339 others

lando: nothing like a friendly match

view all 21,483 comments

user1: the way i thought that was his 🫣

user2: same girl same

user3: whoever took this photo needs a raise we're getting all the offseason lando content we need

user4: lando were you making sure kimi and y/n weren't getting too handsy

user5: poor guy having to thirdwheel

y/nwolff: nothing like a big ego

lando: you like it user6: hello?? why is it getting hot in here user7: @/user6 dont be weird they're like siblings user8: idk that was not a sibling comment...toto what are your thoughts on this

user9: hes so fine oh my god

mclaren: staying in shape during off-season i see

lando: aren't you proud of me admin

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by y/nwolff, totowolff_official and 870,193 others

kimi.antonelli: bit of a downgrade

tagged: lando, y/nwolff

view all 7,034 comments

user1: lando what are you doing in the tags 😭

user2: check his stories, he was having dinner w y/n and kimi maybe they wanted to bike around the city together

user3: he looks so fine on that bike

mercedesamgf1: looking sharp today, kimi

kimi.antonelli: thanks! user4: it's the girlfriend effect

y/nwolff: yeah you had hair in the first pic

kimi.antonelli: why do i put up with you y/nwolff: because i'm fun 🫶 much love user5: y/n be nice to your man he's balding from the stress

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by olliebearman and 270,145 others

f1gossipofficial: SPOTTED! kimi antonelli, y/n wolff, and lando norris spending time together during the off-season

view all 5,018 comments

user1: barbie and two kens

user2: i love how kimi is just in the background

user3: am i crazy or is this giving landoyn...like i can't unsee it

user4: and she's been posting him a lot recently.. user5: you're all crazy there's no way

user6: why is ollie in the likes

user7: she's so stunning

user8: giving mom, dad, and angsty teenager

user9: nono it's mother and son bonding while dad is on the phone user10: wtf is this family

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by totowolff_official and 1,039,472 others

y/nwolff: we kiss a lot, hope this helps ❤️

tagged: lando

view all 40,193 comments

user1: my kimiyn heart...

user2: absolutely RADIANT

totowolff_official: You better not be in the McLaren paddock or start wearing orange all the time.

y/nwolff: but i have to show my boy support!! totowolff_official: You can do it in private. lando: i promise she will sir user3: DID HE JUST- user4: freaky ahh user5: toto's comments backfiring LMAOO

user6: oml that one girl on twt was right

supermaxmaxmax: I WAS!!! im not crazy!!!

user7: is this what kimi meant by being downgraded lolol

kimi.antonelli: yes i went from friend to furniture y/nwolff: stfu you're still my best friend he's just more than that lando: yeah i'm a lot to take in at once 😉 user8: ????????

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

lando has added to their stories

[caption: too busy to be holding the camera this time]

replies:

user1: lando why you gripping onto her like that

y/nwolff: woah i look so hot

lando: you are very hot

user2: mother and fatherr 🛐

user3: poor kimi 😭 having to thirdwheel and having to be photographer

kimi.antonelli: i'm doing god's work here

lando: either you're improving, or maybe you just have great subjects 😊

#lando norris x reader #formula one x reader #formula one #f1 x reader #f1 #f1 smau #lando norris #kimi antonelli #toto wolff #oikarma ᯓᡣ𐭩

2K notes · View notes

ubeb0nes · 6 months ago

Text

HCs of Sevika in Love ఌ

Congrats champ, you bagged a baddie!

**Reader is fem!

◈ ⁘ ⁘ ⁘ ⁘ ◈

It's not that Sevika has crazy high standards. Her wants in a partner are actually very straightforward; it's just that most people lack the base integrity and self-accountability to even catch her attention in the first place

I really don't think she'd ever fall for anyone from Piltover, there's just too many generations of trauma accompanied by a life lived under their foot for her to get past. She loves Zaun too much to ever love anything to do with Piltover

That said, she's attracted to the ideals she associates with the Undercity; perseverance, strength (doesn't have to mean physical), adaptability and loyalty. If you have her love, you most certainly earned it bae

For her, it's probably an "oh shit"/"oh no" type of singular moment, when she realizes she's fallen in love

Either you got hurt or in some position where her true feelings were forced out of her, OR it's during an achingly soft moment where it's clear how loyal/devoted you are to her, and only her.

Absolutely spends months denying herself. She will try to distance, reasoning that you're both better off without the notion of love walling you in.

Zaun is no place for that, she thinks. She recalls Felicia and her husband, dying together on that bridge while a twenty-something year-old Sevika, at the time, watched them fall.

The pain to know you couldn't save your loved one in your final moments (even worse to leave two young children behind). She couldn't imagine it. Didn't want to. Sevika knew that her road would end at a violent last stop, and she didn't want you anywhere near that. She thinks about having met you in a different place.

…But she can't fully hide how she feels about you, not ever. She may oftentimes be rough and ruthless, but even at her worst moment Sevika isn't a cold individual. She's too passionate about you, cares too deeply for where you are and how you are

So when you show up at her apartment to yell at her for being so cruel, for shutting you out of her heart instead of being a grown-ass woman and telling you what the fuck you did wrong, she lets you.

She lets you yell until you've tired yourself out, and then she pulls you into that embrace you missed so much. You hit her shoulder or her chest, weakly, because you love her like crazy and never wanna actually hurt her, and tell her to fuck off.

"I didn't wanna push you away, dumbass," she'll say to you, softly, as she presses a kiss to your ear, "You think I don't want you with me all the time? To tell you I love you and shit without it coming back to bite us in the ass? Of course I do. Of course I do. I just… I don't know how. But I'm gonna fuckin' learn, doll. I promise."

"You… you love me? Really?" "Doll, I don't even let Silco talk to me like that." "You asshole-!"

You're mad, but not really. How can you be? You two will make this work, she already gave you her word.

It's more likely for you to move in with her than vice versa. She lets you go ham on adding your personality to her living space, she doesn't have any strong preferences besides cleanliness

Always says I love you before she goes to work. Just in case. If you mess with her and don't say it back, she will get up in arms about it within two seconds of silence

"I could die, you know." "Babe, I'm just joking!" "Do you see me laughing??"

Obviously, lets her drama queen side show more. She's just all-around looser once she confesses.

She makes sure you know how different you are from others, how special you are. Even her posture is different the moment you're within arm's reach

Body language and physicality are Sevika's main fluency. When in love, you notice the way she angles her body protectively around yours in public, or how she always urges you to link your arm with hers when you walk.

You notice that she almost looks… smaller at home. You realize this is on purpose. She makes herself less intimidating when it's just you, lowering herself to your level and opening her posture to you

At home, she likes kneeling by your side when you're sitting on the couch, checking you over or pressing slow kisses to your hands.

Devoted, devoted, devoted. She never wants you to forget.

Every time you call her name, she always stops what she's doing to give you her attention.

"Sevi?" "Yes, baby?" Every time. It's grounding for you both, in a way

Her henchmen become your henchmen. They know better than to say no to your requests for their help. (Ran is down for antics with you regardless!!)

People all over the Undercity start to recognize you as "Sevika's woman". Not her "girl", you garner too much respect for that

You are the only person Sevika answers to besides Silco. Her close circle teases her that you turn her into a little lovestruck puppy

It's really only them who are even capable of teasing her about this, because her changes in behavior are so minute but so important

She puts out her cigarillos when you sit down with her. She always shifts you over to her left side (the side most capable of protecting you). Her eyes start scanning the room more frequently than before you'd arrived.

She figures out over time that she was wrong. When she holds you against her while you sleep, and you grab her hand half-consciously to press kisses to her wrist, she knows you don't make her weak

When you whisper that you love her against her neck while you sway in the kitchen, moving to whatever music vibrates from the depths of her beloved city, she knows you don't make her weak

When you pull her back together without fail, remind her that she is more than just a grunt in a revolution, a soldier that can be replaced, she knows you don't make her weak

There isn't anything she wouldn't do to get back to you. She has to live long enough to know what a good life in a liberated Zaun looks like with you

#arcane #sevika #arcane sevika #sevika x reader #sevika headcanon #ubebones writing

2K notes · View notes

flawssy-227 · 3 months ago

Text

Ask Me Nicely | Joel Miller x afab!reader

summary | You're working at Tommy's Diner, and Joel is a creepy but kinda sexy line cook

author's note | I'm a long time reader, first time dark!fic writer. would love some feedback. this is a dark fic, please heed the content warnings below. anon is on if you'd like to message me about this

this is for @pedgito #SpringFever25 challenge! my category was Backwoods horror at a diner

content warning | 18+ MDNI — DDNE!! this fic has everything, soft!dark, creepy Joel, dubious consent, p in v, unprotected sex, creampies, afab reader who has hair that can be put in a bun

word count — 4.6k

More Joel here

You were in the middle of rolling silverware when you felt the hot gaze of someone staring at the back of your neck. You briefly made eye contact with a brown eyed man standing behind the grill. You’d never seen him before. He was certainly handsome from what you could tell, but the unrelenting stare was making you feel a bit eerie.

Turning back to the black linens in front of you, you whispered to your coworker. “Tess,” you started.

She just hummed in response, working on her own pile of freshly rolled silverware.

“Who’s that guy on the line? Is he new?”

Tess finally looked up toward the grill and rolled her eyes. “That’s Joel, Tommy’s brother.”

You hummed at the information. You didn’t even know Tommy had a brother. You’d been working at Tommy’s Diner on the outskirts of Austin for just over a month now. You were finally feeling comfortable with the menu, the layout of the restaurant, and the regular line cooks. You even had won over some of the regulars who usually only liked when Tess or Maria served them. Tommy seemed to think you were doing a good job and you finally had enough money for a deposit on a lease so you could get out of the stinky motel you’d been living in. Overall, things were going well. You turned to look back at Joel, mildly disappointed that he wasn’t still looking at you.

Tess snapped her fingers in front of your face, focusing your attention on her.

“Hey, no. Don’t even think about it.”

“Why?” you frowned. “He isn’t married, is he?”

Tess laughed at that. If only that was the only reason she didn’t want you near the guy. “No. Not married.” She sighed looking at your face. You were gonna need a little more information to stop the steady growing intrigue. “He’s here every summer, June and July. His ex get’s custody of the kid or something. Guess he’s bored.”

“Aw,” you sighed, dreamily thinking what kind of father he might be. “Poor guy, he’s probably lonely.”

“Dude’s a freak,” Tess scoffed. “Seriously! Bonafide weirdo. Every summer he’s here, it’s just eight weeks of making the girls uncomfortable.”

You frowned at that. Finally, Tess thought. She was getting through to you.

“Uncomfortable how?”

She sighed and glanced briefly to where you were sure Joel was. The cook line was a decent distance away from where the two of you were rolling silverware and the hum of the fans and other server chatter surely drowned out your voices, but Tess leaned in close to you and whispered anyway.

“Groping girls. Weird comments. Everybody used to just laugh it off. You know, we figured Tommy wouldn't wanna hear us complaining about his weird older brother. And we were right, by the way. This girl Amy used to work here, swore up and down Joel tried to, you know… do something he shouldn’t, after the Fourth of July party. We all believed her. Next thing we know, she gets the boot and Tommy tells us to mind our drinking when we’re off the clock. She kinda looked like you, now that I’m thinkin’ about it.” She shrugs, nonchalantly. “Plus, Maria hates the guy.”

Your eyes widened at that. “Really? Maria likes everyone.”

“Maria knows bullshit when she hears it.”

You subtly glanced back toward Joel, gasping softly when your eyes met his impossibly dark ones. You try to ignore the tingle down your spine.

“Stay away from him,” Tess practically pleaded with you. “Promise me.”

Your palms were sweaty as you gripped the black linen below you. You could still feel Joel’s eyes burning a hole into the back of your neck. He was attractive, sure. Despite how decent of a guy you thought Tommy was, you trusted Tess implicitly. She wouldn’t tell you to stay away from someone unless she really believed he was bad news. “I promise.”

***

You worked Wednesday, Thursday and Friday at Tommy’s and Joel was there every single time. You did your best to avoid him, trying to evade his persistent eye contact, which tended to be challenging when every time you looked up, the man was staring at you.

Yesterday he had asked you what your name was while he slid a patty melt across the window. You hesitated before saying, “it’s on the ticket.”

By Friday night you were exhausted, a week's worth of shifts on your feet in the Texas heat had left your body sore and your mood irritable. You were just an hour out from your cut time and then you had two full days off. You were going to finally move into your new apartment, maybe grab a drink with Tess on Saturday. Standing on expo, you rolled your head from side to side, trying to loosen the tension in your neck while you waited for Mr. Delaney’s burger. He was a regular and it was always the same thing, no lettuce, sub cheddar cheese, add onion. Apparently the guy had been coming here for years. Everyone knew his order, but even if they didn’t, you rang it in exactly how he liked it.

Joel slid a plate over to you with a wink. You didn’t want to smile but you couldn’t help it. Sorry Tess, the man’s handsome. Your smile quickly fell when you took a look at the burger.

“Is this cheddar cheese?” you questioned. The other cook, Richie was facing away from you, labelling some veggies he had just prepped.

Joel looked at you, then the burger, and shrugged. No response.

You let out a frustrated laugh. Mr. Delaney was nice, but very particular about his food, you had noticed. “I don’t know why I asked,” you started. “I can tell it’s american. C’mon, Joel, he gets the same damn burger every week. Read the fuckin’ ticket.” You slid the plate back toward Joel and turned away so you could leave the kitchen and check on your other tables.

Joel smirked at your little outburst while he put two fresh patties down on the grill.

Richie chuckled beside him, still labelling containers. “Can’t believe you pissed her off. She’s so sweet to everyone, but I wouldn’t want to get on her bad side.”

Joel just smiled, tongue running over his teeth as he slid the new patties with cheddar onto buns, assembling the burger exactly how you rang it in. “Dunno,” he said, propping the plated burger in the window. “Might like her bad side.”

***

Your tables were fine so you spent a couple of minutes talking to a young couple who were driving across the state on their way to Louisiana. You took a picture for them, rosy cheeks pressed together as they gushed about their journey so far. The loneliness you felt being in a new place all by yourself hit you like a freight train. You were happy, feeling proud of yourself for leaving a bad situation all by your lonesome and making do with what you had. You realized you should apologize to Joel for snapping at him. You’re just tired and maybe a little horny. Wait, no. Hangry. You were hangry. You weren’t sure where that thought just came from, but you were sure it had something to do with Joel’s thick forearms and the way sweat glistened on his skin when he was standing too close to the grill.

Making your way through the swinging kitchen door, you smiled sheepishly at Joel through the window. The new burger looked perfect, exactly how it should’ve 5 minutes ago. “Thank you,” you told him. “And sorry… I didn’t mean to snap at you. Just ready to get out of here, ya know?”

“No worries, darlin’.” Joel wiped his hands on a white towel and flung it across his shoulder. Your lips parted ever so slightly at the way he crossed his beefy arms over his muscled chest.

“Wanna bite?”

Your eyes snapped up to his and you quickly shut your mouth. “Hm?” A bite of what exactly?

“Food, darlin’. Can make ya something.”

Tess’s warning played in your head. You didn’t want to get too close to him and you definitely didn’t want him doing you any favors. But you were hungry, and he was offering. “Um, sure. Okay.”

***

Joel ended up making you a greasy steak sandwich that filled you up in a way you’d been missing for a few weeks, and thank goodness. You were supposed to leave the diner two hours ago, but Christian, your dimwitted coworker and officially your least favorite person on Earth (as of two hours ago), was supposed to be closing, but slipped on a slick section of tile in the kitchen. Tommy was sure he heard something crack and drove him to urgent care, but not before he begged you to stay until close.

“Promise you won’t have to at all next week! Just stay tonight, please?” he begged.

What were you supposed to say? No, would’ve been a good option. But you needed your job and what was just a few hours more?

Your last table left and you finally locked the front doors, letting out a sigh of relief. It had started to rain earlier in the night and the diner was filled with a sticky humidity you found only existed in Texas during the summer. You couldn’t wait to shower and cozy up in the motel bed one last time.

You were in the middle of mopping the front of the restaurant, soapy water gliding over the red and white tiles when Richie poked his head out from the kitchen.

“Hey kid, I’m headin’ out.”

The swift drop of your smile must’ve been comical because he immediately chuckled. “Don’t worry, Joel’s still here. He’ll stay with ya and lock everything up.”

That wasn’t exactly comforting with Tess’s warnings still floating in your head. Sure he had made you dinner and didn’t seem to mind when you snapped at him earlier, but he was weird. It was like you could always feel his eyes on you, even when you couldn’t see him, and you didn’t know him well enough to be comfortable stuck in the diner with him completely alone.

“Wait, Richie! Can’t you stay with us? I’m almost done, I swear.” You did your best puppy dog eyes.

He looked down at you and offered you a small smile. “Can’t. Tommy’s been ridin’ me about hours. But Joel’s cool. Don’t worry about him, he’s got a daughter.”

You watched Richie turn away and leave, simply disregarding your concern. Joel having a daughter wasn’t quite the reassurance he clearly thought it was but whatever. Tommy was a totally decent guy so you were sure Joel was fine too. You had nothing to worry about, you were positive. You did your best to finish your cleaning in record time, though.

A few minutes later you walked through the kitchen, planning on putting your receipts from your shift on Tommy’s desk, but you couldn’t help but be eerily creeped out by the absolute silence. The fan wasn’t running, the grill was clean and half the lights had been flicked off. Joel was nowhere to be found. You put your paperwork on Tommy’s desk and scoffed. That fucker left you here completely alone. You slid your phone out of your pocket, about to dial Maria when a dark figure appeared before you.

“You all done?”

You gasped, fumbling for your phone before you dropped it. “Shit, Joel. You scared me.”

In the half shaded darkness between Tommy’s office and the rest of the kitchen, you could barely make out the lines of his face. The shape of his nose and a singular dimple make his handsome but usually menacing face seem a little bit softer.

“Yeah, I get that a lot.”

You inhaled sharply and followed Joel out the back door of the kitchen and tried not to let your mind wonder. Everything was fine. He probably just liked saying weird things to make people uncomfortable. You let your eyes trail down his backside, cute butt, you thought before Joel immediately turned around, cigarette dangling from his mouth.

Your eyes snapped up to his, sheepish smile on your face as you tried to pretend you weren’t just shamelessly checking this man out. He knew, of course.

Leaning against the brick wall by the kitchen door under the awning, effectively shielding you from the rain, he offered you his pack of cigarettes. “Smoke?”

You reached for one and placed it in between your lips. “I’m trying to quit.” You leaned in towards Joel, waiting for him to light you up. You let your eyes casually take him in, really looking at his chocolate brown eyes for the first time. His brows are creased as he focuses on the flame.

“How’s that going for you?” he asks, and you wonder if his voice always sounds this sexy.

“Pretty good,” you laugh. “At least, typically. I feel like it’s okay to indulge every now and then.”

Joel hums in agreement, eyes not leaving yours. “How long you been workin’ here?”

“Just around a month. Just moved to the area.”

“Yeah, Tommy said you weren’t from around here. Moved all by yourself?”

There was something about the way he said that. You get a weird feeling in your gut and feel the urge to lie.

“Uh, no. I-I moved here with my boyfriend.” You turn your face away and take a deep drag from your cigarette. You’ve always been a shit liar to anyone who pays attention.

Joel doesn’t say anything else for a minute and he finally lets his gaze move away from you and focuses straight ahead. You release tension in your shoulders you didn’t even realize you were holding. He finishes up his smoke and immediately replaces it with a second. You swallow a lump in your throat and let the bud of your own fall into a puddle of rainwater.

You clear your throat. “Well, I’m heading out. See you next week.”

Joel doesn’t say anything else to you but nods his head in acknowledgement. You make a run for your car but you parked in the back of the lot today, so you can’t help but get yourself soaked. You swear the rain is coming down harder now that you are away from any form of cover and you breathe out a sigh of relief when you open your car door and slide in the cloth seats.

You put your keys in the ignition and took a little moment of gratitude. The shift was over. You were moving into your own place tomorrow. You made a little extra money even though you had to stay late. And you wouldn’t have to see Joel for a few days, at least. You turned your key to start your car up but you aren’t met with the typical sound of your engine turning over. Frowning, you try again.

“You’ve got be fu-” a knock on your window startles you. It’s Joel.

“Car trouble?” he questions over the sound of rain, and your window is a little foggy, but you swear he’s smirking.

You take your keys out of the ignition and grab your bag before cracking open the car door. “You wouldn’t moonlight as a mechanic, would you?”

Joel laughs at you and you don’t hate the sound. “Why don’t you call your boyfriend?”

You let out a deep sigh, a frustration headache coming on rapidly. “Joel,” you start.

He pulls the door open further for you, seemingly uncaring that his light grey t-shirt is now soaked through. “I know, darlin’. I know.”

You and Joel jog back to the kitchen and you’re grateful he never closed the door so you could swiftly slide back inside. Your clothes are completely soaked through and Joel grabs you and him a towel to dry off a bit as he leads you back to the front of the diner.

He leans back in one of the big, circular, red leather booths, running the towel through his brown curls and you can’t help but admire the way his arms flex at the movement. You slide in on the opposite side and try not to shiver at the gust of cold air from the AC.

“So, you ain’t got no one to call?”

You pause. You could call Tess. Uber’s didn’t really run around here but you know there’s a cab company that runs late, you had seen their cards in the motel lobby. Though you could scold yourself now since you hadn’t grabbed one. You decide not to lie.

“Nope. You caught me. I’m all alone.”

There’s a look in his eyes at that and it makes your stomach curl. “I can take care of ya. Drive you home.”

Your heart rate increases. It’s not what he’s saying, but how he says it. You weren’t sure what to do. Even if you called Tess and she could pick you up, you would still have to wait here with Joel for God knows how long. Your eyes dipped down as his thighs parted, sizable bulge on display. “Well, don’t look so scared, darlin’.”

Your bag is plopped on top of the table and you reach for it. You’re about to make a run for it and Joel just sighs. “Darlin’, don’t.”

You don’t even think about how the hell you’re gonna make it to the motel and you just bolt. Grabbing your bag from the table you set your sights on the swinging kitchen doors. You don’t make it far before you slip on a wet puddle and face plant in between the booths and the retro looking bar.

“Shit,” Joel says from behind you. “You okay?”

You groan as you feel Joel straddle you from behind. He softly brushes hair that must’ve slipped from your work bun to the side of your hair. His touch is gentle but maybe you’re just out of it. He leans his face further down into your space and you feel, more than hear, him take a big inhale, digging his nose into your neck. He smiles and sternly presses you back down onto the red and white tile when you groggily try to sit yourself up. You could probably force him off if you really put your might into it, but you let him hold you down.

“Smell so good, darlin’,” he says and you can feel bulge pressing in between your butt cheeks.

“Joel,” you whine and you aren’t sure what to say. Get off of me you freak? Or don’t stop because it’s been a long time since you’ve felt a bulge that big.

“Why’d you run from me?” he questions you, softly grinding his pelvis into the back of you.

You tuck your head further into your shoulder and close your eyes. You whimper. “You scared me.”

Joel tuts at that. “Ain’t gonna hurt ya.”

For some reason you believe him. Joel’s hands move away from your back and he cages your head in between his forearms. You can feel his hot breath on the nape of your neck as he continues to grind his clothed cock in between the spandex of your covered buttcheek.

“Ain’t gonna hurt ya,” he repeats. “And I ain’t gonna do anything you don’t wanna. Okay?”

You don’t say anything for a moment. You leave your eyes closed and you try to will away the hot sting of tears.

“I can tell you’re lonely,” he says into your ear, letting his tongue trace along the edge of your lobe. “I’m lonely too. I can make us both feel real good.”

You shudder and let your eyes open, the rush of hot tears fall down the side of your face and pool in a salty puddle on the edge of a red tile.

“Say ‘okay’ darlin’.”

You let out a weak ‘okay’ and Joel takes that as his cue to start feeling you up. You feel him everywhere and it’s not wholly unpleasant. He slides his weight off your back and straddles you mid thigh.

“Kick off your shoes,” he says and you do as you feel cool air over your butt. He slides your leggings all the way down your legs and you help him remove the bunched up material. He slides his tongue all the way from your bare ankle up to your left butt cheek, giving you a small kiss before he buries his nose in between your thighs. “Smells so good.”

You unwittingly let out a moan at the sensation and snap your mouth shut. You internally scold yourself, you’re not supposed to be enjoying this!

The sounds you make egg Joel on. “Yeah, baby. Keep making those pretty noises for me.”

He straddles you again, reaching his hand in between your legs. You're wet. You can tell by the chill of the air conditioning. He runs a finger through your folds and you let out another little sigh.

“You want it, don’t ya?”

You know he wants you to respond, but you just moan again as he continues to move a thick finger in between your lips.

Dissatisfied at your lack of response but clearly not deterred, Joel rubs against your clit, this time forcing your breath to hitch and your back to arch further into his warm body. “Tell me you want my fingers,” he nearly scolds.

“Fuck,” you gasp. “Yes, I want your fingers.”

He hums to himself, clearly happy with your answer and he pushes two thick fingers into you. Your mouth is wide at the sensation. You can’t help but twitch around him as he slowly pumps in and out of you. You can feel and hear yourself getting slicker with each movement. You shouldn’t be this wet. Your boss's brother is fingering you face down on the cold tile floor at your job. You can feel your nipples harden underneath your work uniform and you feel ashamed that you’ve let this happen and that your body is clearly enjoying itself even while your mind is not fully on board.

Joel’s voice snaps you out of your head. “Being such a good girl for me,” he moans into your ear and you can’t help but clench around him at the notion. “Pussy’s just sucking me in, fucking dripping for me. You gonna cum for me darlin’?”

He uses his other hand to rub at your clit and your eyes roll into the back of your head. “Yesyesyes, gonna cum!”

Joel keeps his pace steady, watching the side of your face that isn’t still pressed against the tiled floor contort in ecstasy as he brings you to your release.

“Mm, good girl,” he says, rubbing your slick all over the outside of your pussy lips, causing you to twitch in aftershocks. “Did that feel good, darlin’?”

Your eyes are shut as you sigh, feeling incredibly relaxed considering where you are and what has transpired over the last 20 minutes or so. You open your eyes and let yourself whisper out a soft “yeah.”

Joel seems delighted at this. “Good. Can tell you work real hard, wanna make you feel good.”

You aren’t sure if you should still be scared or weirdly flattered? You try to press yourself up from the floor and Joel presses you back down. “Joel,” you whine. “I can’t lay like this, you’re gonna fuck up my neck.”

His eyes meet yours and he can see that you are being genuine so he shifts so his weight is off of you. You let yourself flip onto your back and you take him in fully since whatever is happening started to happen. His eyes are soft and lonely and a little crazed but you’ll just chalk it up to horniness. He’s still fully clothed and he lets his body press back into yours. You can feel his bulge against your bare sex and you gasp. He’s huge and you can really feel him like this.

Joel is practically humping himself on you and you can’t help but feel a bit bewildered at the absurdity of it all. He leans back on his haunches and slides down his black chef's pants. Your jaw drops at the size of him.

“Joel,” you gasp, slightly mesmerized by his incredible girth.

“I know baby, I know.” Joel smirks at your wide eyes. “Ask me nicely and I’ll make you feel good again.”

You’re shocked, truly. This is not anything like how you thought your night would go, but you can’t help but release a little more wet slick at the sight of his leaky tip and the blissed out and slightly insane look on Joel’s face.

“Ask me,” he says again, jerking himself off slowly as he waits for you.

You clear your throat. “Make me feel good again?” you try.

“How baby? You want my cock?”

You nod.

“Tell me.”

Your mouth is dry but you somehow fumble the words out: “Want your cock, Joel. Please.”

He lets out a groan at that, several small yeah yeahs out of his mouth as he hovers over your body, one forearm caging you in as his other hand guides his girthy cock into you. The stretch is incredible and you try to retreat on instinct but Joel just shoves the rest of himself in.

You whine his name and his eyes shutter close, clearly lost to the bliss. “Gimme a sec darlin’, promise I’ll make it feel good.”

And boy, does he. As promised, Joel gives you a second to adjust to his size before he starts to slowly press himself in and out of you. When your eyes roll back and you start making those cute little sounds he’s become obsessed with, he increases his pace. Deep and deliberate strokes make you arch your back off the diner floor. You open your eyes and stare at him, feeling shocked that he’s reaching that spot that seems to always be out of reach for everybody else. He’s the perfect size, just bordering on the right side of too much. Everything feels so good, so intense. You’re so close.

“Cum for me baby,” Joel whispers in your ear. And as if your body is his to control, you do.

Joel wraps a strong muscled arm around your spine to protect you from falling on the hard, cold floor again.

“Ask me to cum inside you,” Joel begs, voice strained by his vigorous thrusting.

And this time, you don’t even think about it. “Please fill me up, Joel. Please, baby.”

Thick, hot ropes of cum fill you up and you can’t help but admire Joel’s handsome face as it contorts with pleasure. You rub your hands under his clothed back, slightly cool with a mix of rain from his damp t-shirt and sweat from your activities.

***

Joel is sitting back in the same big red booth, body leaning back lazily as he puffs on a cigarette. You force yourself to stand up on shaky legs, pulling your leggings back up and trying to ignore the sudden rush of Joel’s cum that leaks out of you when your body is finally upright. You feel… well good, in some ways. Body satisfied in a way it hasn’t, in well, ever. You also feel confused. Too many things worked out tonight in Joel’s favor, things that led you to be here, alone, and reliant on him. You weren’t scared, even though deep down you knew you should be.

“Joel,” you spoke, breaking him out of his own post-coital daze as he made eye contact with you. You shivered. You were leaning against the bar, unsure if your legs were stable to hold you upright for much longer. You noticed it had stopped raining. “Can you uh, can you drive me home?”

A lazy smile crossed his face. “Of course, darlin’. I wasn’t ready to be apart from you just yet, anyway.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller au #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #dark fic #fic: ask me nicely #springfever25 #dark!joel miller #dark!joel x reader

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koqabear · 23 days ago

Text

Caught in Your Spell

♬ : Cherish (My Love), ILLIT, Romeo, Pinkpantheress, For: You, Kali Uchis

"Being a simple human in a magic-dominated city was not for the weak. You can deal with the endless teasing, the inaccessible architecture, and the belittling from others around you, always taking pride in your tough skin— but when it comes to your hopeless pining after Mage Kang Taehyun, maybe your heart isn’t as strong against the insecurities that nag at your brain as you thought."

mage!taehyun x human!fem!reader

genre: fantasy, fluff, angst, smut

word count: 22.2K

warnings: barely proof read… we die like men i’m sorry. bit of a miscommunication trope ? mc is having an identity crisis pls bear with her, brief violence/blood (nothing graphic) taehyun is a little mean for a moment… but he means well !

smut warnings: soft dom!taehyun, sub!mc, dry humping kinda, oral(f. rec.) fingering, multiple orgasms, praise, pet names (good girl, baby, angel, love) use of restraints (bondage?), overstimulation, begging?, creampies, scratching, cockwarming, lmk if i missed anything!

notes: guys… i’ve never been so locked in for a fic before. this was sooo fun, pls let me know your thoughts ! ive also scattered a few references here hehe, some more obvious than others. let me know if you spot any!

You knew what you were getting into the moment Yunah proposed the idea; starting an apothecary in the capital was not an easy feat, but her determination and alluring promises made you see only success for your futures— sometimes, you like to tease that she used an enchantment spell on you, which she always dismisses with a laugh.

”You know how unethical I find that,” she reminds you each time, fluttering her eyes at you playfully, “and that’s actually my natural charm you’re referring to, by the way.”

Being one of the few humans that resides in such a magic dominated city had plenty of downsides; you were made well aware how other wizards saw you, always belittled and babied despite your wit and knowledge— the caution that came with your presence, afraid that even the slightest breath in your direction would cause you to shatter. Not to mention the surprisingly inaccessible architecture that littered the city: not everyone has the ability to levitate!

It was a stressful, fast paced life you lived, one you wouldn’t change if it meant leaving Yunah’s side— she was your rock, despite your differences, who never put meaning into what you could or couldn’t do; in her eyes, you were her sun: a bright, healing, energizing light. You brought life wherever you went, possessing a magnetic energy that she deemed magical in itself. She wishes you were more aware of this advantage; maybe then you would be able to do something about this weird tension between you and the prestigious member of the royal court, Mage Kang.

“Just this for now.” Taehyun huffs, placing down an impressive armful of tiger lilies before you, “Though, I think I may have to return again tonight.”

“So many flowers,” you whistle, picking up the handfuls of lilies to tie them together and package them nicely, “who could possibly be worthy of such grand bouquets?”

“Oh no, these aren’t to be gifted,” Taehyun is quick to correct; when you peer up at him through your lashes in curiosity, he looks away, staring out the window and clearing his throat before he can continue. “They’re for the queen. They make for a beautiful delicacy, and it’s all she’s been craving recently.”

“The baby will be roaring at birth at this point. You can’t possibly be serious when you say you’ll return, right?”

”I certainly am,” Taehyun says, cocking his head as it becomes his turn to stare you down, “don’t tell me you’re already sick of seeing me here?”

Your eyes widen at his sudden surge of confidence, shrinking back shyly as you attempt to sputter out a comeback— Yunah decides she’d much rather do it for you as she chirps off in her little corner.

“Of course not; you’re the highlight of her day,” she grins, sending Taehyun a wink, “and my entertainment.”

Taehyun’s canines sparkle from the wide smile he sports, looking back at you with joy glowing in his eyes. “Is that so? I’m flattered.”

“Don’t tell me you’re falling for Yunah’s lies so easily,” you scoff, though the sourness in your face is quick to sweeten as familiar company jumps onto the counter, drawn to the crinkling paper you use to wrap the bright flowers— your voice is pure sugar as you stare at the creature fondly. “the only highlight here is getting to see Dago. Isn’t that right? I’ve missed you!”

Taehyun can only stand back in shock as you turn your full attention (and undying adoration) to his familiar. Dagonyang is quite eager for the onslaught of attention, round eyes sparkling and dilating at your loving coos, fluffy tail swishing curiously as you gently run your fingers through his fur and scratch beneath his chin— it draws a low purr from the cat, which in turn makes you squeal and plant a soft kiss to his forehead; Taehyun’s brows all but fly off his head.

“Oh you’re so cute, I wish you could stay with me instead— how bout it?” The flowers are an abandoned afterthought, your body bumbling with cuteness aggression as Dagonyang rubs himself against you, knocking his head against your hands in search of more pets— his eyes are closed in bliss. “You’d be better off here— I can’t imagine how boring the royal life must be, you should just stay here and sunbathe in front of the window instead. You’d attract many new clientele too, I’m sure.”

Before you can process it, Dagonyang becomes nothing but cat-hair glued to your sweater; Taehyun has scooped him up in his arms, thick biceps bulging to hold back his familiar that tries to jump back onto the counter— a stern look at the starry-eyed cat is enough to calm him down, and Taehyun loosens his grip to let him jump to the floor instead. Peering over the counter, you watch him loop around between Taehyun’s legs; he clears his throat, a last resort to get you to look back up at him.

“I doubt he’d be a good fit for this place. His kitty claws are much stronger than you think.” There’s something unusual about his voice, despite the lighthearted jokes he’s making— something that shaves off that soft, mellow rumble and leaves a rocky undertone that puts you on edge. Afraid that you might catch on, he gives you a playful look that shrugs off your suspicion. “And he has quite the appetite. Half your store’s product would be gone the next morning.”

“I guess you have a point,” you sigh dejectedly. Leaning down, you rest your chin in your palm and observe the familiar that has begun to take in the store around him; he’s eyeing a display of novelty sweets you helped Yunah make (laced with playful, short-term spells, a bestseller amongst the students that run past after school), his eyes sparkling with interest— Taehyun is swift to place his foot in front of Dagonyang’s path, allowing himself to be dragged back to his owner’s side with a huff. You laugh at the sight, endlessly endeared. “Sometimes I forget he’s not just a cute kitty.”

Taehyun huffs. “He’s got abs, for christ’s sake. How could you possibly forget?”

You shrug. “He pulls them off well.”

“I don’t mean to interrupt you two,” Yunah starts, charging forward with a subtlety of a bulldozer that contradicts her statement, “but those flowers should probably get delivered soon. I’d hate for you to get in trouble for a late delivery again, Taehyun. They might get fed up and start sending someone else instead.”

“Who knows? Maybe they’ll take an interest to you too, ___,” Yunah teases; while you flush with embarrassment and tell her off, Taehyun stiffens at the image, rummaging through his bag for your payment and scooping up the bouquets into his arms— you’re brought back to the subject at hand as coins clatter on the counter, Taehyun’s eyes barely peeking over the flurry of tiger lilies that surrounds him.

“She has a point— about the deliveries.” his voice is muffled by the flowers, and you lean in closer to hear better. “I’d hate to be replaced, I quite like talking to you. Two.”

Yunah snorts.

“I’ll see you later— but if I don’t, complain that I was better. Maybe they’ll listen.”

“If it meant getting to see Dagonyang again, I’d start a riot, Mage Kang.”

It’s not exactly what he wants to hear, and you can tell. He shrugs.

”Good enough.”

Bidding Yunah goodbye, he spins on his heel and rushes out of your shop— he doesn’t need to look back to tell Dagonyang to actually follow.

The lingering echoes of the doorbell is the last reminder of their presence, the apothecary now silent save for the bubbling of Yunah’s cauldron; Sunday’s were always the most tranquil, and now that your only customer was gone, you were left to sigh and melt against the counter in boredom. Turning around, you decide to watch Yunah perfect her newest concoction.

“How’s the order going?” you ask, watching her dig through the shelves of jars above her— when she spots her key ingredient at the top shelf, she sighs; with a swirl of her finger, the jar glows a lavender color and is slowly brought down into her awaiting hands.

“Hasn’t exploded yet,” considering her recent streak of going on autopilot while potion making and adding the wrong ingredients, this was an impressive feat. “But your whole thing with Taehyun was distracting me. I almost added dragon’s breath into this.”

She looks up at you, brows raising as she gives you an intense look, “This whole place would’ve burned down if I did.”

“Wh— and how is that my fault?” you cross your arms, pouting at her accusations, “and what thing? It’s called banter.”

“More like flirting. You two have got it bad for each other,” she laughs to herself at the memory. “I’ve never seen a man get jealous over a cat.”

“C’mon, now you’re just making stuff up.”

Yunah sighs, long and hard. “Oh you poor, poor thing. Does it get tiring, deluding yourself like this?”

You roll your eyes— your denial only exasperates Yunah.

“I’ve never seen anyone be so into you. Have you seen the way he looks at you?”

“Like every other mage that comes here to mess with me, I’m sure,” Yunah immediately frowns, already knowing where you’re taking this. “They just think it’s fun to mess with humans to see our reactions and how far they can push us. There’s nothing more to it.”

“You know that’s not true.”

The ringing of your store’s bell is unexpected to both of you, whirling around to find a new customer. Yeonjun’s smile is bright and full of mischief as he nods to you two, his rowdy familiar bouncing behind him; they make their way towards you, though one seems much more preoccupied with making a mess out of the store— Hwangchoon’s clumsiness has your blood turning cold, watching with horror as he knocks off everything in sight. Stumbling forward, you try to dive for the falling jars he just swept off with his tail, lips parting in a silent scream— only for Yeonjun to beat you to it, his familiar, golden glow emitting from the jars as they all halt their fall and peacefully rise back onto the shelf— he even makes sure to adjust them so all the labels are showing.

“You’ll have to excuse him,” Yeonjun smiles, placing a hand on the small of your back to straighten you up, “he gets excited easily. More so when he visits his favorite places.”

Behind him, you watch Hwangchoon jump up to reach a bowl of crystals, tiny hands nudging it off the table instead of catching it— Yeonjun is swift to save its descent without having to look behind him. His smile widens at the pure disbelief on your face.

“Hwangchoon,” he calls out, guiding the two of you back to the counter— the said fox perks up, running back to his owner’s side in an instant. Yeonjun glances down at him, petting his head fondly. “Stay here. You’re gonna give this poor human a heart attack.”

Yeonjun doesn’t seem to care how his comment bristles you, looking past your frustrated face and scanning the wide display of herbs behind you instead. He lets out a thoughtful hum, and you let him decide for a moment in silence. Looking behind you, you manage to make eye contact with Yunah, who shakes her head and rolls her eyes at the man— it’s enough to crack a smile out of you.

“Quite the selection you’ve got this month,” Yeonjun muses, “Your garden must be coming along nicely. You’ve ought to show me one of these days.”

His eyes flicker down to yours, narrowing slyly, “I’d love to see what human tricks you’ve got up your sleeve.”

“And put myself out of business? You wish,” you scoff, choosing to ignore that last comment.

“Smart girl,” he grins, and you think you hear Yunah scoff in disbelief behind you. “I’ll take my usual, please.”

Nodding, you turn around to collect the necessary jars— echinacea, turmeric, garlic, ginseng, and lavender. It’s a tedious process, filling your arms to the point that you’re slowly walking back to the counter, afraid that one might slip from your grip and shatter. Yeonjun stands back, amused as he watches you set everything down with a sigh of relief. He waits for you to begin to total everything to speak up again.

“Oh, now that I think about it, I actually need three more things— I’ve been getting an influx of patients, you see. Supply is running out fast,” he laughs, even if you don’t seem to be as amused as him, and lists out the ingredients: rat tail, bone dust, and salamander eggs— all things on the highest shelf of the establishment, akin with the high ceiling and left out of easy access due to its value. You try to hold back a groan at his request.

“Yunah, could you—” turning around, you find that Yunah has disappeared from her spot at the cauldon; your eyes dart around in search of her, only to realize that she’s headed to the back in search of something. With her gone, dread begins to buzz in your bones— your only ladder was splintered to dust in the crossfire of Yunah’s messed up potions, and the girl has promised through apologies that she’d get you a new one asap. But looking around now, you come to two horrible conclusions: no ladder, no help.

“Something wrong?” Yeonjun asks behind you, startling you out of your daze and making the weight on your shoulder crash down harder. Looking over your shoulder, you send him an innocent smile.

“No, nothing,” you say, trying to prove it as you approach the shelf and crane your neck back, the gears turning in your head as you try and think of a solution.

Minutes pass and you’ve yet to do anything— Yunah has yet to come back too, much to your dismay. The silence is deafening, and you can hear your blood rushing in your ears with shame as Yeonjun undoubtedly pieces everything together behind you. The snicker he lets out is enough to prove your suspicions.

“Need any help?” Without warning, two hands take a firm hold of your waist, fingers digging into the fabric of your apron— your scream lodges itself in your throat as you’re hauled up and flying into the air, your legs kicking beneath you in protest; you go to slap off the hands that hold you, only to find nothing there. A reluctant look down shows that Yeonjun has levitated you with his magic.

“What are you doing?!” is all you can bring yourself to yell, horrified as your dress begins to flow around you from your flailing legs— you’re quick to cross your legs and pull the skirt tightly against you, afraid of revealing anything to the man that’s now twenty-five feet beneath you. “Put me down!”

“We’ll be here all day if we stand around waiting for Yunah to come back,” Yeonjun sighs, “and you clearly can’t reach it yourself, so why not take the help?”

“I didn’t need your help!” That's a lie and you both know it, but your pride is taking too much of a hit for you to not defend yourself.

“Sure,” is all he says, watching as you continue to panic in this new position you’ve found yourself in— after another protest from you, he decides enough is enough.

“Just hold onto these for me, will you?” the jars in front of you have begun to glow golden, and you blanch— rat tail. Bone dust. Salamander eggs. They all fly off the shelves and towards you, the magic ebbing off the moment they’re within arms reach; you dive at them in a panic, weaving through the air and hugging them close to your chest, whirling around to send Yeonjun a deadly glare once they’re all safe in your hold. You only get a joyful laugh in response.

“Wow, you’re a natural— so graceful,” he grins, slowly bringing you back onto the ground, “One could almost mistake you for a royal aeronaut.”

You just about slam the jars against the counter, fed up with his teasing as you begin to package them and calculate the new price. “You’re not funny, Yeonjun.”

He laughs, reaching forward to boop your nose. “And you’re a wizard, ___.”

You hold back the urge to curse at him as you tell him the new total, counting the coins he places in your hand and getting confused when he hands you more than necessary; you go to give him the extra, but he shakes his head and nods down to his feet— leaning over the counter, you find Hwangchoon has gotten ahold of your novelty sweets, scarfing down the candy like he’s been starved all day. Yeonjun doesn’t seem to be as horrified as you are at the sight.

“He’ll be okay,” Yeonjun winks, gathering the carefully wrapped parcel in his arms and bidding you goodbye— Hwangchoon begins to levitate beside him, coming into view with flailing limbs and panicked squeaks; Yeonjun pays him no mind, turning around and making his way out the shop. Your worries are put at ease as a golden aura engulfs Hwangchoon, the fox dragged behind the man like a balloon. You merely watch incredulously.

It’s only after the two are out of sight that Yunah returns with an armful of supplies, even more trailing behind in the air; she’s meticulous as she sets the ingredients on her workbench, ordering them by sequence and spell— satisfied with her work, she smiles up at you proudly, only for it to fall as she notices the exhaustion on your face.

“Tough customer,” is all you say, putting your head in your hands at the memory, “I just got levitated.”

You don’t expect for Yunah to act so quickly, storming over to the entrance muttering curses under her breath— you’re chasing after her hastily, pulling at her sleeve with a panic as she unsheaths the wand hidden in her boot.

“It’s okay, really! Please don’t kill him!” you plead, though it doesn’t seem to reach her ears, “he’s long gone anyway— he was just trying to help!”

“I don’t care what his intentions were! That fool needs to learn boundaries!” Yunah sneers, though she seizes her attempts to chase after him after you try to get on your knees to plead with her— she picks you up before you can, huffing in annoyance. “He thinks he can just treat you however he wants! We need to blacklist him.”

Her eyes light up like a lightbulb, and she’s returning back to her cauldron, flipping through her spell books with a sly smile. “Now that I think about it, we could probably place a border at the entrance to keep him out. He’d have to travel to a different kingdom to find another apothecary— though, none are as good as ours. The quality of his supplies would downgrade— wouldn’t be such a revered doctor anymore, huh?”

“Yunah, please,” you say exasperatedly, reaching over to shut her books— she lets out a whine, acting like a child scolded as you shake your head sternly. “It’s really not a big deal. I’m used to it. Don’t get put on probation over something so silly.”

Yunah is visibly biting back her tongue— she wants to refute, tell you that it’s not something silly, that no matter how much you pretend otherwise, you know how much such belittling actions bother you. But it’s a talk you’ve had more times than you can bother to keep track of, knowing that even if she sees you as a gift to the capital, no one else thinks the same; her rose tinted view of you can only span so far.

Mulling over her words carefully, all that’s left for Yunah is to sulk at her desk, looking up at you with heartbroken puppy eyes.

“I’m sorry. I wish it didn’t have to be like this.”

You smile, patting her head fondly. “I know.”

Yunah watches you retreat to the back, mumbling on how you should go take care of your garden and finishing packaging your herbs— she recognizes that strong front you’ve put up, still humiliated by today’s events; she considers creating a creature to go torment Yeonjun, but she knows you’d be against it. Yunah is left wishing you weren’t so forgiving.

When Taehyun returns just before closing shop, it’s clear he’s eager to see you, Dagonyang just as much. The two are dejected carbon copies of each other, with Dagonyang sniffing for your scent and Taehyun stalling by looking around the shop despite only coming for one thing— both quietly hope that if they linger long enough, you’ll return.

“I don’t think she’s coming back up front. We close in less than an hour,” Yunah calls from her workbench, wiping down her freshly cleaned cauldron, “she’s a bit upset right now. Don’t tell her I said that.”

“Upset? Why?” Taehyun suddenly seems to have remembered what he’s here for, because he’s grabbing handfuls of tiger lilies and making his way to the counter in the blink of an eye. Dagonyang is quick to jump onto it, as though curious to hear why as well.

“Well…” Yunah hesitates, unsure if she should be sharing this with them— but with the way they’re both leaning in eagerly, eyes wide and worried, she’d feel bad if she didn’t. “You see… there’s a lot of customers here that love to tease ___ for being human. She’s always said she doesn’t mind but… I don’t think that was ever the case. I guess today was just her breaking point.”

“How immature,” Taehyun’s face turns stern with anger, brows knitting together and his jaw clenching. “Who was it?”

“Doctor Choi Yeonjun; the one in the center of the capital, across from the library,” Yunah has no issues ratting out the man, just as annoyed as Taehyun about the whole situation. “I was going to send a trickster after him, maybe hand it a spell bomb to give him a nasty cold. But ___ is just too passive, she was ready to kneel and beg for me to leave him alone.”

“This is ridiculous. She shouldn’t have to deal with such treatments,” Taehyun grumbles, “and this happens often?”

“Everyday, basically. Some are more lighthearted than others,” Yunah sighs, beginning to wrap the bouquet, “She even thinks you’re in on it.”

“Me?” Taehyun sputters, offended by the thought, “Why would she think that?”

“I guess she can’t fathom someone possibly liking a human like her,” Yunah quotes, watching Taehyun’s frown deepen, “especially someone in the royal court.”

Though Taehyun’s ears flush a deep scarlet, and the skin of his neck that peeks out from his uniform blushes a gentle pink, he doesn’t bother objecting to Yunah's claims— it’d be futile, and they both know it. He remains deep in thought instead, fishing through his bag for the payment, wishing nothing more than to see you and comfort you.

“Don’t worry yourself sick now, I’m sure she’ll be okay,” Yunah reassures, handing the man the bouquets, “and whatever you do, don’t bring this up to her. She’d be mortified.”

Taehyun reluctantly agrees— when he bids Yunah a goodnight, he has to nudge Dagonyang off the counter in order for him to move; even then, the cat trudges reluctantly behind his owner, glancing back hopefully one last time before they leave— Yunah resists the urge to coo at the way the cat deflates with defeat, disappearing into the night behind his owner.

○○○

“Are you sure about this?” The question has slipped your mouth for the millionth time, bleeding from the morning to the early evening, lingering like a puppy at Yunah’s bedside as you hopelessly watch her pack. “Like totally, wholeheartedly, super sure? You don’t think this is a bad idea? ‘Cause I think this is a bad idea.”

“It’s not a bad idea,” Yunah affirms, smoothing down her shirts before she folds them up into a tight, tiny square, “I’ve sent a notice to all our customers. Plus, I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t trust you.”

“You have too much faith in me,” you breathe out, anxiety prickling at you as you watch Yunah place her final clothing item into her suitcase, flicking her hand to make it shut and zip up— she places her hands on her hips, giving you a look as though to say seriously? It does nothing to deter your oncoming nervous breakdown. “Why can’t I just go with you? Or close up shop?”

“We’ve been through this, ___. It’s invite only, and we can’t afford to close up shop for two weeks. People move on fast here.”

“But,” you bite your lip, brows knitting together as you try to grasp at straws. When you come up empty, all you can do is sigh out the truth. “I can’t do this without you.”

“What are you talking about? Of course you can,” Yunah puts a firm hand on your shoulder, giving it a squeeze in reassurance. “You practically run it all on your own already. All I do is sit in the corner all day and make potions.”

”But that’s the driving force of this place,” you whine, and you continue before Yunah can tell you that’s absolutely not true, “people seek us out because of your skill.”

“Then I’m sure they’ll understand why I’m leaving,,” Yunah’s eyes dart to the grandfather clock in the corner of her room, hauling her suitcase off her bed and grabbing her coat— when she finds the luggage too heavy for her, she resorts to carrying it with her magic instead. “If this new spell gets approved, it’ll be a game changer for our business.”

Yunah explained this new spell of hers and the impact it would have on the community, but you’re not sure you understood— fireside talks of her ranting excitedly about the ingredients, how mentally taxing it was, and her brainstorming process were easy enough to follow; it was the purpose of the potion itself that you’d never be able to wrap your head around.

“The fatigue that comes with using magic in such intense intervals can be extremely damaging to one’s health,” she practiced her speech on you, pacing around and using her businesswoman voice, powerful and fearless. “But with this spell, it could all change— endurance can be increased, as well as the mental capacity that allows the magic-user to intensify their spells and potions; this could revolutionize our powers, put endless possibilities on our achievements.”

Throughout your time knowing Yunah, you’ve been told on what it’s like to use magic, to have such abilities— the exhilaration, the strain on your psyche, the pride— you’ve been told how it feels, how addicting it is, left awake at night with dreams on what it’d be like to be like her; to be anything more than a simple, powerless human.

But you’d never be like her. And as you bid her farewell at the train stop, holding her close and whispering for her to be safe, to write to you, the reality of it all crashes onto you harder than it ever has before— after all, how ridiculous is it for a human to single-handedly run a magical apothecary?

“I’ll miss you,” you whisper, squeezing her tightly against you— Yunah does the same, patting the back of your head before she pulls away; her smile is fond as she stares at you, her train arriving and beginning to pile up with people.

“I’ll miss you more.”

You stay to watch her get on the train; stay to see her pull back the curtains in her cart, scanning the crowd and lighting up when she spots you, waving eagerly. You stay until the last boarding call has been announced, until the doors close and the train whistles and stirs awake. When it takes off, you do your best to follow her and wave, the joyful laugh she lets out not reciprocated by you as you’re forced to stay behind on the platform and watch her disappear into the horizon, off to carve a new path for herself, one you’ll never be able to follow.

Your journey home has never been more difficult; all the tricky places Yunah would usually help you with— floating platforms that required much more balance than you trusted yourself having, steep slopes that are meant to be sled down gracefully or climbed up with minimal effort— are now obstacles you find yourself pushing through, ignoring the amused stares and light laughter that follows you with every clumsy attempt, as though you were a spectacle on display. By your third encounter with floating platforms that lead to your way home, you’re just about ready to give up, standing before the obstacle course with disbelief; the sun has set long ago, and the streets have become desolate, yet you’re still here.

“___, I didn’t expect to see you here,” Taehyun’s voice is unprecedented and makes you jump, a hot flush swirling to your cheeks as you turn to face him— the thought of him catching you at such a vulnerable moment is truly petrifying, but you try to play it off with a smile that he returns swiftly. “Are you coming back from dropping Yunah off?”

“Yeah— I am, actually. She told you?”

He nods, approaching the platforms thoughtlessly— you follow him, just as thoughtless, in an attempt to continue the conversation. “I was notified that certain spells and potions would be unavailable for the next two weeks— and that you would run the place on your own while she was gone.”

“Oh, right,” you mutter sheepishly, already forgetting about the announcement she sent. The two of you stand before the platforms, and while Taehyun is ready to jump onto them without a second thought, you begin to shift nervously.

“Do you…” Taehyun stops himself, watching your eyes dart away, ashamed. Reaching out for your hand, he smiles sweetly at you, nodding back to the platforms behind him. “Would you like to accompany me?”

Beneath the lanterns that hover in the sky and the lit path before you, you’re able to get a good look at Taehyun’s face for the first time— no shy, fleeted gazes or stolen glances, but a long, good look. His eyes, always so round and sparkling, are creased into crescents from his smile, plump lips pulled taut and causing your eyes to flicker over to a new discovery— his dimple that indents his cheek has you resisting the urge to reach out and poke it, always unaware of its existence until now. You’re entranced, placing your trust in him as you take a hold of his gloved hand; his fingers fall into place between yours, tightening and pulling you into him without a second thought.

He maneuvers you around without effort; your right hand in his, back to his chest as the two of you stand before the first platform, just a few feet away— his other hand falls onto your waist, a feather-like touch that has you straightening up nervously. You feel him hover just beside your head, letting out an airy chuckle that makes shivers run down your spine.

”Hold onto me,” he murmurs, feeling your hold on his hand tighten as the two of you walk forward— his hand on your hip begins to feel warm, a tingling sensation bleeding through your garments and straight to your skin, a soft aura beginning to emit from where he holds you; you try and catch the color that begins to bleed through the light, but it’s all wiped from your head the moment you step forward and begin to float.

“Ah!” you squeak, slapping your left hand on top of Taehyun’s in a panic; his fingers spread open to let yours in, biting back a smile as you hold onto him desperately, trying your best to follow his movements across the platform, though struggling a bit due to your lingering fear.

“Don’t worry, I won’t let anything happen to you,” Taehyun’s words are soothing, the feeling of his breath against your skin enough to ground you, “just follow your instincts.”

Nodding, you try your best to follow his advice; your jumps defy gravity, lasting long enough that you’re walking on air and skipping platforms— it’s nothing like Yunah’s magic, simple and to the point, or Yeonjun’s, mischievous and exhilarating, but something different all together; it’s graceful, electrifying, making your body buzz with an unknown energy that excites you, letting out a soft laugh as your feet tap briefly on the stones, only to be sent back up again. The wind feels gentle against your skin, playing with your hair and the thick skirts of your dress, unfurling like a bird spreading its wings. When Taehyun peeks over your shoulder to gauge your reaction, he’s overjoyed to find a wide smile lighting up your face.

“Fun, isn’t it?” you’re halfway across at this point, and as you’re sent up into the air, Taehyun takes the chance to halt your descent, your brief hovering giving the man the leverage to use your right hand to spin you around to face him— the squeal you let out is nothing short of endearing to him, letting go of you to watch you fall back for just a second, only to catch you with an arm wrapped around your waist, his left hand now holding your right. “It’s always much better when you’re traveling with someone.”

Spinning you around once more, his arms are crossed around your waist as the two of you float onto the next stone, taking a few steps before Taehyun is lifting you up again, twirling you yet again to make you face him— a laugh bubbles out of you uncontrollably, a dizzying giddiness allowing you to become putty in his hold, letting him guide you to walk backwards, not an ounce of fear in your system as you place your complete trust in him.

“I’ve never crossed Opal Bridge like this,” you joke, stomach flipping as you’re falling back to the next platform, Taehyun’s smile widening at your reaction, “it’s like we’re dancing!”

“Maybe we are,” Taehyun’s hand leaves your waist to grab your hand instead, and the two of you switch places on the stone so that it becomes your turn to lead him backwards— with a running start, Taehyun is the first to jump back into the air, pulling you up to follow and tugging you into him so that you’re closer; you almost collide with his chest at his unexpected strength, letting out a nervous giggle that he absolutely soaks up.

“Quite the interesting dance then,” your confidence boost is quick to dissolve as Taehyun’s magic ebbs away at the highest point of your levitation, the two of you free falling down to the next stone— a scream lodges itself in your throat, watching with horror as Taehyun remains unfazed even as the wind whips against his hair and uniform; without thinking, you embrace him, as though your sheer willpower could save the two of you from crashing down— through squinted eyes, you watch the scenery around you slow once more, a familiar warmth pulsing against the small of your back and between your shoulder blades.

You pull back from Taehyun the moment your feet touch the ground, surprised to find an undeniable mischief sparkling in his eyes and pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“That wasn’t funny!” you smack his shoulder, though the excess adrenaline that pulses through you leaves you vulnerable to his contagious smile, unable to help the laugh that slips past you. “You’re cruel, Mage Kang.”

His smile stiffens, and he’s lifting you up once more, only two stones left to go. “You don’t have to call me that, you know. Just Taehyun is fine.”

“Ah, sorry…” you hesitate, and everything pauses— you’re lingering in the air for a moment too long, and it isn’t until you’re meeting Taehyun’s sparkling eyes that you realize he’s expecting something. “Taehyun.”

The sound of his name coming from your mouth is enough to make him want to pull you close, hug you tight against him and soar into to the sky; you’re so sweet, shy as your eyes dart away from his, a shaky smile gracing your face as Taehyun unabashedly grins— you’re barely able to catch on to the playful glint in his eye before the two of you are falling back again, the uncontrollable scream you let out and the flipping of your stomach the closest thing Taehyun can do to make you understand how he’s feeling.

“How dare you!” you shriek into the air, though it’s followed by a loud laugh as Taehyun saves the two of you yet again, floating the two of you back up delicately in a pseudo-apology; when you catch that stupid, triumphant smirk on his lips, you punch his chest petulantly. “You’re enjoying this too much!”

“I am,” Taehyun immediately nods, shamelessly pulling you against him, sturdy hands pressing against your back to melt your bodies together— he buries his head into your neck and allows the two of you to remain where you are for a second; just you two, with no one to interrupt or entertain themselves at the spectacle. No facades to maintain, no words to be spoken, only the warmth of Taehyun’s magic against your fragile body, engulfing you entirely until you’re completely his. If you press yourself against him hard enough, you might catch the way his heart is just about to pound out of his chest.

In this tranquil sanctuary you’ve found yourselves in, you find yourself dreading the moment your feet will touch the ground again and force you two to part. A single thought graces your minds, a gentle plea to the stars that watch over you.

If only there were a spell to make this last forever.

○○○

The first few days of Yunah’s absence pass by without a hitch— at least, that’s what your positive mind is trying to convince you. It’s an arduous journey on her part, taking advantage of her four days on the train to write to you constantly; it feels like a new letter manifests on her workbench every few hours, filled with complaints on the stiff seats and haphazard sketches of the scenery— she tells you what she ate for breakfast, about the interesting people she’s befriended on the cart across from her, and screams about the man that snores obnoxiously at night. Remind me to create a spell that can mute your ears when I get back, please, she writes to you, and you shake your head in amusement before folding up the letter, determined to respond later as your shop bell twinkles gently.

Making your way back to the front of the shop, you can’t help the way your heart beats in anticipation— Taehyun always visited at this time, always choosing to finish his daily walk with a visit to your shop; sometimes to pick up something, other times to just check how you were doing.

After your rendezvous at Opal Bridge, you could no longer ignore the charged air between you two— there was something forming, something neither of you were keen to acknowledge just yet; a fragile, sweet bud that urged to bloom into a proud flower, begged to be tended to. You knew it was only a matter of time before the situation became unignorable, but for now, you were satisfied with indulging in these visits he paid you, pretending as though he’d be just as eager to risk your friendship as you were.

Peering nervously over the doorway, you’re stopped in your tracks as you find someone else wandering around your shop; a slightly taller, lean figure, with a broad back and slim waist that’s adorned with a sword and dagger. His shaggy black hair that sweeps over his face elegantly hides his identity from you; his hands are covered with black leather gloves, and you watch him reach out to grab your freshly restocked tiger lilies, quietly observing the flower.

“Isn’t this the part where I’m welcomed to the store, miss?” the sudden address has you jumping, stuttering out a nervous laugh as you step out and make your way towards the counter— the man has yet to face you, but as you begin to take in his uniform better, your face begins to twist into a confused frown.

“Wait,” you start, eyes sweeping from his heavy duty boots to the dark navy of his uniform, recognizing the familiar crest on his shoulder— the man finally looks over his shoulder to meet your scrutinizing gaze, sending you a sly grin that has you scoffing in disbelief. “Beomgyu?”

“Geez, I was scared you’d already forgotten me,” Beomgyu sighs in faux relief, placing back the lily before making his way to where you stand, “your customer service skills are getting rusty.”

When Beomgyu first became part of the royal guard, he was a frequent visitor to your apothecary— a hardworking soldier in search of healing balms and potions to close up wounds instantly, always stopping late at night and making conversation with you and Yunah, detailing about his difficult trainings and listening to the two of you rant about your days; sometimes, he’d bring gifts from his trips to other kingdoms as a token of appreciation, jewelry and trinkets that you still have laying around your home in decoration. His dedication and skill was enough to have him climb up the ladder in no time, making it rare to see the head of the royal guard in your shop these days.

“When did you dye your hair? I could’ve sworn you were just blonde,” you ignore his jab, squinting at his hair that seems to absorb all the light around him, “it’s so dark.”

“Looks nice, doesn’t it?” he runs a hand through his hair, and you’re amazed at how it falls perfectly into place. “my soldiers were saying the blonde made me an easy target.”

“They’re not wrong,” you hum, amused at how immediately pouts at you, “what brings you here, anyway? It’s been a minute since you last came around.”

“If you must know, I’m here to pick up the parcel of potions Yunah left,” Beomgyu says, nodding towards the workbench in the corner where sure enough, a thick parcel awaits.

”Oh, those were for you?”

“For the queen, yes,” Beomgyu is quick to correct you, earning a roll of your eyes in return, “her due date is approaching, and she’s been having constant dizzy spells. Hopefully this can calm her down in the meantime.”

You pause for a second, your grip tightening on the heavy package in your hands; you’ve heard this story before, during one of Taehyun’s visits— about the potions the queen requested from Yunah, forced to wait for the concoction to ferment before being able to take them— and you frown, sure that he would be the one to come for the delivery. The question bites at your curiosity far too much, and you can’t hold yourself back from saying what’s on your mind as you go back to place the package on the counter.

“Did Taehyun get replaced?”

Beomgyu sends you a confused look. “Replaced from what?”

Embarrassment starts to lick at your face, avoiding his gaze as you pray for the heat to go away, trying your best to seem indifferent as you shrug. “He’s usually the one that picks up parcels for the queen.”

Beomgyu pauses for a second, observing your face to see if you’re serious.

“No… Taehyun’s in a meeting with the advisory court today. He’s not a delivery boy— you are aware of that, right?”

“I obviously am!” you say indignantly, your sudden outburst bringing a knowing smile to Beomgyu’s face, “it’s easy to get used to routine, you can’t blame me for being curious.”

“Curious,” Beomgyu ponders, “or disappointed?”

“Oh, hush.”

“You’re not denying it,” Beomgyu’s lips curl into a childish little smirk, like he’s holding back the urge to giggle, “don’t worry, you can just flirt with me in the meantime— don’t let your routine get disrupted.”

“God, you’re annoying,” you groan, pushing the parcel forward and closer to him, silently signaling him to go away— when he begins to dig into the bag attached to his belt for your coins, you look around the shop, just now realizing that he’s come in alone. “Where’s your other half?”

Beomgyu smiles fondly at your question. “Right at your feet.”

You’re bending down to inspect beneath the counter immediately, and sure enough, Bamgeut is curled up by your feet, fast asleep. The little bear-pup (it’s what you’ve resorted to calling them after questions about Bamgeut’s species were left unanswered) has never looked more comfortable on your hardwood floors, letting out soft snores that make you bite back the urge to pet them and stir them from their slumber. You remained crouched by Bamgeut’s side instead, watching with adoring eyes as the pup shifts onto its back, long lashes lazily fluttering open until their eyes lock with yours.

“Hi Bam. Sleep well?” you coo, tucking your lips in to suppress a squeal as Bamgeut slowly rises to make their way to you, soft paws reaching out in a silent request to be carried— you oblige immediately, rising back into Beomgyu’s view cradling his familiar happily; his eyes widen at the sight.

“Wow,” Beomgyu huffs, watching Bamgeut rub the sleep from their eyes, tucking their head into your chest for warmth— your eyes squeeze shut at the cuteness. “I think Bam just found a new owner.”

“I‘ll happily accept,” you grin, running your fingers through Bamgeut’s fluffy hair, “a cute little thing like this has no business being the royal guard’s familiar; this baby was made to laze around, isn’t that right Bammie?”

Bamgeut has already fallen back asleep in your arms; you’re swooning at the sight, giving Beomgyu a pleading look that screams please let me keep them.

“Absolutely not,” Beomgyu laughs, watching you deflate sadly, “I think you forget that these guys aren’t just here for decoration.”

“I know, I know,” You groan, giving up the cute creature in your hands as Beomgyu holds his arms out; He’s cradling Bamgeut like a baby, the bear-pup instantly recognizing his owner’s hold as they nuzzle into his neck with a content sigh.

”They’re not what they seem, they’re too much to handle, blah blah blah. Just say you hate me and go away,” you accept his payment dejectedly, pouting as he laughs at your misery.

”If it makes you feel better, you’re Bamgeut’s favorite human. That says a lot.”

“I don’t think that says anything at all actually,” you raise a brow, unimpressed. “Not a lot of options to pick from here.”

“Well I couldn’t say you’re their favorite person, because that would be me,” Beomgyu shrugs; looking down at the parcel, he lifts his palm up, a pink aura encasing the package and lifting it in the air— he gives you a wink as he takes his leave. “I had to make do with what I had.”

“Whatever,” crossing your arms, the wave goodbye Beomgyu gives you is left unreciprocated, only cracking a smile as Bamgeut peeks over his owner’s shoulder, mimicking his wave with its tiny paw. The sight has you melting immediately. “Bye-bye Bamgeut! I’ll miss you!”

Beomgyu’s sulky pout that he sends you through the window is swiftly ignored as you spin around and head back to respond to Yunah’s letter.

○○○

The next time you see Taehyun, he’s trying to hide his terrible mood from you.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” you’ve never been one to worm your way into other’s business, but Taehyun just brings it out of you, “I feel like there’s something bothering you.”

When he entered the shop with brisk steps and a cold look on his face, the warmth in your cheeks disappeared— you’ve never seen him act so cold, trying to mask the bubbling lava of anger that rushes through his veins; his voice was stern and careful as he spoke to you only from necessity, bypassing your usual attempts to joke and banter. As you ask him the question that nagged at your mind, you can’t help but worry that you’ve done something to anger him.

“Just problems at the palace,” he grits out, the mere mention enough to anger him all over again; he refuses to meet your concerned gaze. “Nothing you should worry about.”

”Ah, alright,” he’s far too intimidating like this, and as your exchange is cut short after a pixie appears to request his immediate presence at the palace, you can’t help but wonder if this is the side everyone else sees when he’s working.

“The East Kingdom of Flora is requesting your services,” the tiny voice alerts, its buzzing wings leaving a trail of dust as it circles around Taehyun— at the mention of the kingdom, you perk up; one of the few standing kingdoms ruled by humans. The world you should be in. But while your eyes widen with interest, Taehyun’s jaw clenches, sneering a low curse beneath his breath.

“The East Kingdom of Flora is requesting your services,” it chirps again, a broken record that zips carelessly around Taehyun— he seems like he might just explode in annoyance.

“I have to go.” Taehyun turns to you, entirely exasperated. Grabbing the fresh bouquet of tiger lilies and exchanging it for your payment, he rushes out and doesn’t bother acknowledging your meek goodbye; maybe because the pixie continued to chirp away in his ear all the way out.

Though it seemed like an urgent request, you can’t help but pout at your brief exchange— more so at his coldness. It was an entire switch from the man that’s been lingering cutely at your store night after night, so you can’t help but worry about him, wondering what it could possibly be that’s got him on edge like this.

Hours later, Beomgyu pays you another unexpected visit, Bamgeut hopping along happily; you smile at the little royal uniform they don, a clear attempt to match the owner that smiles at you brightly.

“Bamgeut was begging for us to stop by today,” he says, the little bear-pup hopping up to wave at you; you laugh, leaning down against the counter to say return the greeting. Bamguet runs up to you with outstretched arms, and you cave in instantly as you pick them up and set them on the counter, petting its head while their legs dangle from the counter happily.

“Are you sure it was Bamgeut that wanted to stop by? You don’t need to lie, you know. You can admit that you missed me.”

Beomgyu rolls his eyes, unamused at your teasing. “Ha ha, very funny. Don’t make me start showing up without Bamgeut. I’ll actually do it.”

Having known Beomgyu for long enough, you’re able to confirm that he absolutely would go through with that threat. You gulp. “Sorry.”

He smirks. “That’s what I thought.”

Today, he’s stopped by for a healing balm— he’s run out of his bulk supply, and due to Yunah’s absence, you haven’t been able to restock at much; you’re only able to sell him three, and he tells you about the recent wound he received while training his soldiers.

“They learn fast. Too fast,” he says, tugging off his glove and folding up his tunic to show you the bandages along his forearm, gasping at the streak of red that bleeds through, “it’s how I got this.”

“Beomgyu, you really need to be more careful!” you scold, covering your mouth with disbelief the longer you look at it, “isn’t there a safer way to train? Something that won’t end with you hacking your arm off?!”

“I’m training them for battle, ___. In the most extreme cases, war,” his face darkens at the thought. “War isn’t safe.”

“Don’t make me think about stuff, I might pass out.”

The concern in your trembling voice and your worried face is endearing to Beomgyu. In an attempt to distract you he asks, “well, then what do you wanna think about? I’m an open book.”

“Hmm…” you trail off, wondering how you could take advantage of this opportunity. “Oh! Why is the Kingdom of Flora here?”

Beomgyu’s brows furrow, and he seems to be genuinely taken aback by your question. “How do you know about that?”

“Oh. Uhm,” you become sheepish, wondering if you’re asking about a sensitive topic. “Taehyun stopped by earlier, and a pixie appeared alerting him that the kingdom was requesting his presence. I figured you might know something about it.”

He cocks his head to the side. “Well, why didn’t you ask Taehyun about it?”

You grow quiet. “He uh… he seemed pissed.”

At your meek confession, Beomgyu bursts into laughter, as though imagining it for himself— you can’t help but frown at the entertainment he finds from it, wondering what he might know.

“What? What’s so funny?”

“God, I bet he’s fuming,” Beomgyu giggles, wiping at the tears in his eyes, “he hates dealing with stuff like this.”

“Stuff like this?” you echo, “What are you talking about?”

Lost in his own amusement, Beomgyu doesn’t seem to pay any thought to the things he says. “Them, the representatives from Flora. He has no patience with them. Anything that drags him down is enough to make him lose his shit— he’s been assigned to escort them, so imagine the immense pain he’s in right now.”

Through the lighthearted insults and giggles, the reality of Beomgyu’s words start to crash onto you, like an overwhelming, sobering wave. The representatives from Flora. Humans. Them.

“But as for their business here, no one’s exactly sure. No one except for the King and Queen, that is,” Beomgyu continues, though you’re not following along anymore, “It’s probably some personal affairs, maybe even discussions of a possible alliance; though, I’m not sure what we’d get from that.”

It feels like your head has been plunged underwater, the image of Taehyun flooding your vision; him, forced to escort the humans from Flora— him, forced to help the humans through tricky architecture just as he helped you; dragged down, impatient. In immense pain.

“Beomgyu,” you interrupt his endless ramblings, staring down at the counter as you continue to pet Bamgeut absentmindedly; the creature has already curled up on the surface and fallen asleep. He hums in response, and you have to find the courage to continue; you avoid looking at his face in fear of seeing his reaction. “Would you ever fall in love with a human?”

Silence falls, just as you feared. You continue to pet Bamgeut as a distraction, the bear-pup leaning closer to the warmth of your touch.

”…Probably not.”

You press your lips together, trying to hide the hurt from your voice. “How come?”

“Well first of all, it’d be difficult to find one here in the capital. I have no idea how I found you,” he jokes, and you crack a small smile at that. “But… I don’t know. Humans… are so fragile; our differences may not be much on the outside, but our genetic make-up is entirely different—health, strength, capabilities— things get complicated like that.

“But, that doesn’t mean it’s impossible,” His words have an unprecedented softness to them, genuine in his answer as he continues, “I think, if it were love, I’d look past it all— I’d let them drag me down, I’d pick up after their messes happily. I’d take care of them no matter how fragile they were.”

His answer is sweet, though you find that an uncertainty still nags at you; you’re startled out of your spiral as you feel him pat your head, winking at you when you look up to meet his gaze.

“Don’t be sad though, I still think you’re cute.”

Shaking your head to get his hand off, you let out a low curse at his stupidity.

“God, you’re insufferable. This isn’t about you!”

His smile widens, satisfied. “I know.”

Your goodbyes are much more gentle this time, placing a kiss on Bamgeut’s forehead to stir them from their slumber— Beomgyu chuckles at the action, joking that “you’re trying to bribe them to like you more than me.”

The small familiar that’s curled up in Beomgyu’s arms remains unaware of your rivalry. “Is it working?”

“In your dreams.”

You laugh at his resolve, knowing that Beomgyu would rather die than lose his precious familiar, even in a battle of affection— he was sentimental like that. And as you watch him leave, carding his fingers through his familiar’s fur, you find yourself wondering if Taehyun is sentimental like that, too.

○○○

Six days into Yunah’s absence, something peculiar occurs.

It stormed all day— heavy showers that threatened to flood the streets, harsh lightening that cracked in the sky and startled you throughout your garden tending; at some point, you almost snipped off the head of a perfectly healthy bloom, cursing under your breath and opting to put down your shears in fear of creating an accident.

Your clientele is always few and far between when the weather gets like this. No one finds themselves that desperate to visit the apothecary, unless it’s for an urgent need; Yeonjun stopped early in the morning, when the sprinkling rain had yet to turn into a harsh downpour, only two others stopping by for the rest of your day. The sky was now pitch-black outside, and there was only forty minutes left before you closed up shop. A nagging thought in the back of your head told you it’d be better to just close down early, but you dismissed it. Maybe you should’ve listened.

The woman that enters your establishment is not one you recognize. She’s small in stature, a lithe figure that’s concealed by a cloak that’s been drenched through the storm and drips onto your floors. Your voice is soft and unsure as you greet her, observing the way she ignores your words and silently takes in the displays around her, the weighted hood covering the top half of her face; her ruby lips and pale skin are the only things that peek through, curling to a delicate smile as she faces you.

“Hello darling,” her voice is that of a siren’s, lowering your defenses with its elegance. “Where’s your counterpart?”

“Counterpart?” you echo pausing for a moment to decipher what she might mean, “Yunah?”

She nods.

”She’s off to a conference to register a spell,” you watch her nod in understanding, “so I’m afraid that our usual spell and potion services are currently unavailable.”

Silence. The air around you seems colder than it did moments prior, though you think it’s your mind playing tricks on you, unnerved by the way you can feel her observing you carefully.

“But you’re here.”

“Oh, I’m— I can’t,” you say sheepishly; she tilts her head in confusion, silently asking you why. You flush, your voice barely above a whisper as you explain that, “I’m a human.”

The silence that lingers in the air is deafening, not even the sound of the rain crashing against the stone outside enough to soothe your nerves. You watch her ruby lips stretch widely, pearly teeth showcasing a blinding smile. Slender hands reach up to tug the hood off her head, and you watch carefully as the fabric pools at her shoulders and her identity is revealed.

Despite the damaged her cloak took from the storm, she remains untouched; her hair is a brilliant midnight that shines blue beneath the light and cascades smoothly down her back, slim, angular face revealing striking features that render you speechless— her doe eyes are full of a sparkling purity, long, dark lashes brushing delicately against her silky skin with every curious blink. Her gaze is inviting as it locks with yours, and despite you thinking it impossible, her smile widens.

“I don’t see the problem with that.”

Her claim stuns you— so much so that you’re sputtering in confusion, unsure of what those words entail; you try to cement the fact that you’re just a human, with no magical inclinations, no abilities to cast spells, and no idea on how to brew potions.

“Love, I only ask of you to help me with the most basic of potions,” she soothes, now standing before you at the counter, “something so simple, even a… powerless, human would be able to achieve it.”

“Well, then— you must pardon me, but,” you hesitate, finding her gaze much too intense, filled with such innocent hope you worry to disappoint her, “why seek out my help then?”

Her eyes narrow, but her smile remains still; amused at your keen observations, she reaches out to take your hands in hers— they’re warm and soft, so gentle as she pulls your encased toward her chest, clasping them as she gives you a pleading look.

“I’ve heard stories about this apothecary— the ingredients here are a magic of its own, leagues better than any other establishment’s,” she lets out a weak chuckle, “certainly better than what’s left in my cottage back home. I’ve travelled a long way to find this place, I beg you to help me. I cannot leave empty handed; there is life at stake.”

Your lips press together in a fine line, brows knitting together as you become unsure of what to do; her eyes are glossy as they stare into your own, drawing you in and daring you to look away— you find that you can’t bring yourself to do so. There’s a desperation that swims in her dark irises, a silent plea that sings to you, your hands buzzing with warmth the longer they remain encased. Your lips loosen, and your voice acts on its own accord.

“Okay,” you find yourself saying, “I’ll help you.”

Her eyes widen like saucers before she blinks and lets go of your hands, letting out a soft thank you and bowing her head in gratitude— you merely stand there awkwardly, unsure of why you decided to agree to this; a voice in the back of your mind nags that you should’ve told her to wait for Yunah’s return.

“I’ll treasure this for eternity,” she breathes out, peering up at you through her thick lashes with a small smile, “I owe you my life.”

“Oh no, it’s nothing, really,” you frantically say; worried that she may expect too much of you, you’re frantic to add: “I’m not too experienced with potion making, so I wouldn’t get your hopes up.”

Undeterred, she shakes her head. “I’ll guide you.”

“Oh,” you softly say, “okay.”

Reaching into her cloak, the woman pulls out a worn out scroll, unrolling it on the counter; the two of you gather as she reads out the ingredients to you, along with the instructions— you’re surprised to find it composed of entirely mundane ingredients and no magic involved, just as she’d promised. When you ask her what the potion is for, she sends you a small smile, as though you were privy to a top secret.

“For rejuvenation,” she simply says, not elaborating despite you hopelessly wishing she did.

The potion is made in Yunah’s cauldron in just a few minutes, nothing compared to the hours the witch spends slaving over her own creations. The woman is patient, watching and directing you on what to do and how to do it; when the concoction glows a soft pink, you gasp, and the woman smiles triumphantly.

“Let’s see,” she hums softly, reaching out and stirring the potion with her index finger, ignoring your surprised gasp and meek warning that it wasn’t the best idea— she ignores you, stirring until a the liquid becomes a whirlwind, only retreating when the potion can continue to swirl on its own for a few seconds more. The liquid that drips from the tip of her finger is popped into her mouth, and you gape— she doesn’t seem to mind your reaction, brows knitting together in thought, taking a moment before addressing you. “Try it.”

“What?” you gawk, “I don’t… why? Is it safe?”

”Of course it is,” she says, “I need to know what you taste. Try it, there’s no harm.”

You hesitate, looking at the pink liquid that has now stilled, then up at the woman who smiles patiently at you. Nothing happened to her— she barely seemed to react at all. Your eyes lock with hers, and a silent reassurance is exchanged. Against your better judgement, you reach a shaky finger into the concoction and try it for yourself.

The liquid is warm and smooth on your tongue— you try to search for a flavor, taking a moment to think it through, but come up short.

“It tastes like nothing.”

“Then it must be left to ferment overnight,” crossing her arms, she sighs, staring at the concoction with a frown. “it won’t be ready until some flavor pulls through.”

“I’ll stay at a nearby inn and return tomorrow. You’ll receive your payment then,” she’s not giving you much room to agree or deny, her hands already pulling her hood back on, ready to disappear into the night once more— she gives you one last smile before she goes, unmistakable joy laced in her words as she tells you, “thank you.”

Her cloak whirls in the air as she turns to leave, her swift steps bringing you to a panic as you reach for your nearest piece of parchment and pen.

“Wait!” you call out, just as she’s opened the door, ready to slip through, “I never got your name. I’d like to write it down, so I remember who it’s reserved for.”

A pause. You wonder if this was a stupid thing to ask of her.

“Irene.”

She doesn’t repeat it, much less spell it out to make sure you’ve written it correctly. The revelation is brief, and she disappears before you can say anything more— hastily, you scrawl it down before you can forget it, your messy handwriting an eyesore next to the delicate pink potion that ferments in Yunah’s cauldron.

The urge to send Yunah a letter confessing your sins of making a potion without her here weighs down your heart, but you know she wouldn’t even receive it— her two day conference has begun, and her lack of contact has never felt more painful. You’re left to ascend to your home on the second story of your apothecary alone, tossing restlessly in your bed as you think back to the strange event. The image of the beautiful woman lingers on your mind, sure to reappear in your dreams as her name is left like a gentle whisper in your ear.

Irene.

○○○

There is a creaking sound coming from the apothecary.

You dismiss it, at first, rolling over in your bed and pulling the covers closer to your body, trying your best to fall back asleep— but you hear it again, and the more you pay attention to it, the less you’re able to rule it off as the building settling.

Another creak; the sound seems to travel around the area. In a daze, you sit up from your bed, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you strain your ears for the sound— when a soft tapping resounds, you kick your legs off your bed and stand, wondering if a stray has broken in to your store for shelter again; they always find a way.

The more you approach the stairway that leads down the apothecary, the more you’re able to make out the sound of footsteps; they’re a light pitter patter, urging you to walk quietly in fear of startling it— when you arrive at the bottom of the stairs, you hear a soft meow. Your shoulders slump with relief.

“Kitty,” you call out, spotting the feline standing in the middle of the store— at the sound of your voice, it walks away, attempting to hide beneath your counter. You approach it slowly, glancing out the window to find that it’s still storming. “Poor thing, you must be so cold.”

The black cat is curled up in the corner beneath your counter, its head tucked away from your sight; carefully, you reach out to pet it, running your fingers down its back— the cat perks up at the sensation, turning its head to look at you, and you freeze. Staring back at you are two, brilliant pink orbs.

You’re startled by the sight, unable to react as an alarm begins to blare behind you— looking over your shoulder, you frown as a red light blinks back at you, situated just by Yunah’s cauldron. It takes a moment before you recognize what it’s there for.

The alarm for unauthorized potions.

The soft fur beneath your skin begins to shift— the kitten before you begins to amalgamate, growing with violent cracks and snaps that have you falling back in shock, crawling backwards as your mouth falls open in horror. Its midnight fur has become a shapeless void, stubby paws shifting to pin-like legs— two, four, six; one after the other, they appear, hovering over you like a spider— its cute snout has disappeared, replaced instead with a maw that opens hungrily. It salivates, sharp rows of teeth grinning down at you; Your eyes dart up to meet its gaze, and it snarls at you.

Instinct takes over as you roll to the side to avoid its jaw that shoots down to snap at you— scrambling to your feet, your legs tremble as its head cracks sharply to find you, determined to hunt you down; adrenaline prickles through your skin like needles, and it’s enough to make you turn on your heel and run for the exit.

It’s too fast— as you weave through shelves and display tables, you hear a crawling sound, much too close to comfort; your hopes that the furniture scattered across the floor will serve as obstacles to hinder it are shattered as you look up, to where the sound is coming from: it’s crawling on the ceiling, and its eyes are fixed on you.

You’re skidding to a halt as it leaps in front of you, blocking the entrance as it growls at you once more— when its jaws widen to try and take a bite from you, you reach out for any nearest object you can, using all your strength to throw jars and other heavy items you can find— one shatters on where you assume the head to be, and it flinches, only to shake off the glass shards, a spindly limb coming down to crush the table beside you; with a yelp, you turn around to find another way to escape.

All the windows are locked, and the glass is protected with a spell that won’t allow it to shatter; there’s no exit on the second story, leaving the back exit that leads to your garden— with a heaving chest and tears in your eyes, you sprint to the back, the monster hot on your heels as it crushes the furniture you move in its way and the jars of ingredients you try to hit it with.

Slipping through the employee entrance, you unlock the exit with clammy hands, trembling uncontrollably as you swing the door open— behind you, the creature rams through the wall, splinters flying at you as you run out and into the storm, through your carefully cultivated garden that it treads through with an intent to destroy.

You’re barefoot, and it’s proving to be tricky to run out in such a muddy field—you can only hope that you’ll be able to reach the fence of the enclosure and try to find help; your heels dig into the mud and slow you down, but you don’t dare look back, gritting your teeth as you near the end of your garden.

Something wraps around your ankle— the thing has caught up to you, and you scream as it wraps its limb around your leg, pulling you back with a force that’s dragging you through the mud and back towards it; you try to flail around, digging your fingers into the soft soil, but it’s all useless. The creature has you trapped, flipping you onto your back as it hovers over you with a hunger swirling within its pink, beady eyes. Through the void of its body, the jaw widens, impossibly wide, encasing your upper body and salivating onto you through the sharp, stalagmite-like fangs. You’re left helpless, squeezing your eyes shut as you wait for it to sink its teeth into your flesh— but it never comes.

Instead, you hear a soft humming sound; through tearful eyes, you peek— within the endless void of its mouth, something begins to glow. You think you may be seeing things, at first, squinting your eyes in confusion, only to be blinded by a light that encases you entirely; the creature remains there, hovering over you, trapping you within this light, and you wonder what kind of twisted fate has been left to you— then, you feel it.

A tugging sensation. Gentle, at first, so subtle you might think your mind is just playing tricks on you. Then it’s felt again, again and again until it’s undeniable and you feel yourself being pulled, gravitated to the light that showers you— but your physical body remains still.

It’s trying to steal your soul, you realize, the tension in your muscles fading away, your heartbeat slowing until you feel your eyelids begin to weigh you down, your vision becoming a muddled haze, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

It’s a discomfort that goes on for far too long— you think part of you is trying to resist, but your consciousness is left at such a small sliver that you’re not entirely sure. Your body has gone limp, eyes stuck wide open as you stare into this blinding light, a burning sensation bringing more tears to your already crying eyes.

The feeling comes to an abrupt halt— it all fades to black.

Is this it? you find yourself thinking, is it over?

They say that when you die, your life flashes before your eyes— but that’s not what seems to be happening at all. You think you can still feel your body— though, it might be wishful thinking playing tricks on you. You can still hear things, though it’s faint; the splashing of rain that falls on the ground beside your ears, the thunder that crackles in the sky— a faint screeching, sounds of destruction, a panicked voice calling your name— and suddenly, you feel as though your body has been plunged into ice.

A loud gasp rips through you, body jolting up as your lungs burn for oxygen— you begin to cough, and without realizing, your hands have begun to claw at your chest, nails digging into your skin and leaving scratches that pave way for blood to trickle out, running down your skin with the droplets of rain.

It’s cold. So, so cold, your brain screams at you, head hung disorientedly as you begin to rock back and forth, skin tightening and prickling from the rain that has seeped through your clothes, leaving you a trembling, weeping mess. Are you still alive?

“___!” you think you recognize the prestigious uniform that falls into your weary line of sight, the hands that grab at your wrists to pry away your hands from your chest familiar. Yet even so, you can’t help the way you scream and thrash, wondering if this is the creature’s newest sick attempt to lower your guard, “___, please! It’s gone now, you’re okay!”

A strong hand gathers your wrists together and pins them to your lap, the other reaching out to cup your face, forcing your head back up. Squeezing your eyes shut, you try to shake this hold off; they won’t budge.

“___,” they plead, their voice breaking, “It’s Taehyun; please, look at me— please.”

His other hand reaches up, cradling your face in his hands as he quietly begs you to open your eyes; his thumbs caress along your cheekbones, and despite your racing mind telling you otherwise, you peek cautiously through your lashes.

Everything is a big blur, and the night time doesn’t help at all. Your heaving chest begins to slow, leaving shaky breaths that continue to tremble your body— slowly, everything comes into view, and your eyes lock with a familiar pair of eyes. Dark, brown irises; normal, familiar, terrified.

“You’re okay,” he breathes out, and his body physically reacts when you finally meet his gaze— without thinking, he’s pulling you close, against his firm frame that hides you away from the rest of the world. “You’re okay, you’re safe.”

It seems as though the reassurances are for him just as much as they are for you; he holds you as though he never wants to let you go again, and his heartbeat pounds harshly against your ear; though you desperately want to, you can’t bring yourself to cry.

A moment passes where you’re both still, neither of you sure of what to say— then, you’re being pulled away, held by your shoulders as Taehyun stares you down with a stern gaze.

“What happened?” he asks, scanning your face as though he could find the answer there, “why did the alarm to Yunah’s cauldron go off?”

“I— I don’t know,” your voice is hoarse, and you wonder why he didn’t ask you about the creature first, choosing to ask about the alarm instead. “The potion was just fine earlier, I don’t know what—”

“What potion?” Taehyun interrupts, his fingers beginning to dig into your skin— you wince, shaking your head as you try to remember, “Yunah didn’t leave anything in her cauldron.”

”She— she didn’t make it. I did,” his eyes widen with disbelief at your confession, jaw beginning to tick. “The woman, she begged me— I just wanted to help her.”

“Help?!” Taehyun repeats, as though saying it himself will help him understand, “you almost died!

“Whatever that thing was, it didn’t work!” you shake your head and try to explain yourself, but your fervent denial only angers Taehyun.

”You don’t understand,” you weakly let out, “it was working; she said I was capable of making it myself—”

“And you believed her?” Taehyun lets out a bewildered laugh, though it’s clear he finds no humor in the situation, “why in the world would it occur to you to do that? You’re a human!”

You flinch at his hammered words, the aching of your body now a mere afterthought as you listen to his frustrations.

“There’s not a single drop of magic in your blood. You need to accept that.” as much as you want to look away from Taehyun’s intense gaze, to push him away and go back inside, you can’t; you’re too weak to move even a single muscle. All you can do is sit there and get scolded like a child.

“This fantasy of yours almost cost you your soul— don’t you see how dangerous it is to try and force yourself somewhere you don’t belong?” he stresses, brows knitting together as he observes you carefully, wondering if anything he’s saying is getting through to you. You merely stare at him with shining eyes, willing yourself not to cry in front of him.

“Don’t ever try to involve yourself in magic like this again.” He says firmly, “you’re lucky we were able to stop that thing when we did.”

At the word ‘we’, you finally find the strength to look away and just over his shoulder— sure enough, Dagonyang sits patiently behind Taehyun, staring up at you with wide eyes that are glaze with concern— your eyes widen as you take notice of his ear, split at the top and matting his fur with blood. You feel a lump in your throat, trying to hold back sobbed apologies— it’s probably the last thing Taehyun wants to hear right now.

“Don’t worry about him,” Taehyun swiftly says, having taken notice of your wandering gaze, “he’ll heal in no time.

“Can you stand?” you shift at his question, trying to get up— but you hiss the moment any pressure is put on your feet, and the two of you look down to find your ankle is swollen, an inky, ringed bruise forming right above the bone.

”God, you’re all injured,” Taehyun grimaces, only now getting a good look at your appearance; worry tugs his features together as he takes in your soiled garments. “And dirty.”

“Come. You need to be tended to,” you can’t let out much of a protest when he’s sweeping you off your feet and picking you up, briskly walking back to your home. “and you can’t stay here. It’s a mess.”

Sure enough, you’re able to see just what he means as he passes through your once beloved home; it’s a wreck, with glass and herbs all over the floor, shattered furniture and the destroyed wall enough to make your stomach drop. All your hard work, your dreams, your passions— gone.

You want to cry; you want to scream, to curl away in shame and hide yourself from the world forever, to kneel and beg for forgiveness until your throat is sore. You want the universe to swallow you whole, to go on without you, as though none of this ever happened, as though your existence never occurred.

You want to forget Taehyun’s disparaging words, to erase the degrading look in his eyes. You want to pretend as though all your fears weren’t only confirmed in the end, left with an insolent reminder that you’ll never be anything more than a mere human.

○○○

“Raise your leg a bit more.” Taehyun’s hands are quick and nimble as they wrap gauze around your ankle, kneeling at your bedside as the two of you remain quiet— it’s the first thing he’s said to you all day.

There’s an inappropriate sense of intimacy to this scene that you can’t help but be angered by. He has left his duties at the castle to take care of you, despite your persistent reluctance and refusal— but with your apothecary destroyed and your ankle still healing, you were given no other choice but to stay at Taehyun’s home until Yunah returned. It’s a small, quiet home, on the outskirts of the capital and away from the constant buzz and energy; it’s a change you’ve yet to get used to, but secretly welcome. You lean back on your hands as you avoid watching him, fingers digging into his comforter as you choose to stare out the window instead, at the chirping birds and wildlife that scampers around.

The idea of staying in Taehyun’s home like this, donning his clothes and sleeping in his bed, was something that you only dreamed of during those secret, self-indulgent fantasies of yours— the kind where you lived a tranquil, domestic life, where nothing else mattered but the fact that you were together. The you of the past would positively keel over at seeing herself in such a position— yet, as Taehyun smooths down the bandages that compress your healing injury, a tension in the air so thick it forms a wall between you, you can’t help but wish you were anywhere but here.

“Is it too tight?” His voice is barely above a murmur, and he doesn’t look up as he asks you the question, as though he were merely going through the motions and not asking about your comfort. You go to shake your head no before realizing he won’t see it.

“No. It’s fine.” his thumbs run along your ankle, a gentle pressure that tries to linger— you pull your foot away and tuck yourself back into bed without another word, unwilling to do anything more than nestle yourself into the covers and hide away. Taehyun remains at your bedside for a minute, silence overtaking the room once again as he finally decides to take his leave.

“I’ve made lunch,” he offers, lingering at the doorway and watching you carefully; you don’t seem to acknowledge him, but he refuses to leave until he gets a response from you.

“Thank you,” you finally say, “but I’m not hungry.”

You hear him leave with a frustrated sigh.

Your time together continues on like this; you’re counting down the days until the apothecary is finished getting reconstructed and Yunah returns— her letters to you are endless now that she’s on the train back to the capital, having been notified by Taehyun of everything that happened the morning after; you were witness to her every emotion as she wrote to you— the fear, the guilt, and the relief that came with receiving her first response from you. When she asked to hear more details about that night, hoping to find an answer on why it all unfolded, you wrote as much as you could on the back of her letter, watching it recall back to its owner, curious on what the response from her would be; you told her of Irene and her reassurances that you could help, the ingredients, the mundane potion that brewed from it— but you’ve yet to get a response back.

Instead of letting yourself get lost in her letters, Yunah’s abandoned you to this mess— days have passed, and you’ve yet to find the courage to talk to Taehyun again. Besides the quick, necessary communications shared, you try your best to avoid him all together. A strange anxiety fills your heart whenever you’re near him for too long, and you’ve resorted to hoping that you can run away from all this once Yunah returns. Maybe you can force her to handle his deliveries from now on.

If only you could blame this strange dissonance of feelings on your tattered soul, still trying its best to heal from the trauma of that night. You’d like to think that, if you wait long enough, everything will smooth over, and you can go back to being that shy, hopeless romantic that became a puddle underneath Taehyun’s gaze.

It’s much better than this distance you’ve created now, anyway; you’ve grown fond of sitting out in the field behind Taehyun’s home as a way to avoid the tension that closes those four walls in on you, quietly taking in the grand landscape that stretches beyond— oftentimes, Dagonyang finds himself curled up in your lap, purring at your gentle hands that run through his fur. It’s become a ritual for you two, and if you look hard enough, you can even see the glowing lanterns of the capital.

You can hear Taehyun call your name, already imagining the way he leans across the doorway, his arms crossed impatiently. You try your best to ignore him, his voice already making your heart rate spike— but he’s not having it, and when he calls your name once more, it’s stern; commanding. You jump at the sound, unable to help the way your mind is instantly flooded with memories of that night, where his nails bit at your skin and his eyes were filled with nothing but the deepest disappointment. You’ve stopped petting Dagonyang, and the cat has already jumped off your lap and started pattering off inside, leaving you alone on the field. A moment passes, and you slowly get up to avoid hearing Taehyun harshly call your name yet again.

“It’s cold out, you should come in,” his voice has softened considerately, yet you still can’t find it in you to look at him— the sun has set and the night air nips at your skin, but you had no plans of going in anytime soon. He moves aside so you can step in. “I’ve made dinner.”

“Thank you.” you don’t catch it, but Taehyun frowns at your apathetic tone. He follows you inside, watching the way you trudge to the dinner table.

His eyes are boring holes into your skin. You’re stuck looking at your plate, trying to keep up the act that you don’t feel his intense gaze burning into you, watching your every move. It’s quiet, as it has been for the past three days, and how it will be for the next three.

A part of you can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking right now— what he thinks of you. You wonder if his viewpoint on you has changed entirely since that night, having put him through such a terrible battle, which was only followed by sleepless nights of investigations on what happened; he’s yet to update you on what he’s found, leading you to believe that every direction he’s taken has been met with dead ends. Even now, Beomgyu’s words float around your mind like a persistent parasite; you’ve caused him enough trouble to stress him out for a lifetime— he’s stuck cleaning up your messes, stuck with you while he oversees your recovery. A simple human interrupting his busy life, dragging him down. You fear that if you look at him, you’ll find nothing but resentment in his eyes— you don’t think you could handle that discovery.

It’s quiet as you both separate, going off to his bedroom while he goes off to his study where he’s been staying, much to your reluctance. While you nestle into the covers, attempting to fall asleep, you can hear the familiar sound of Taehyun humming in the room beside yours, undoubtedly spending yet another sleepless night on your case. It’s become something you secretly listen for, soothing your brain into a restless sleep, free of the nightmares that invaded your mind the first night you stayed in his room. With a heavy sigh, you allow yourself to rest, Taehyun’s song a lullaby that protects your fragile mind.

○○○

Tomorrow marks the final day of your stay with Taehyun; you’ve finally recieved a letter from Yunah.

I’m sorry I took so long to respond, she writes to you, her writing messy and rushed; the parchment is a bit wrinkled in your hands, and your heart sinks as you continue to read. But I took everything you told me about and sent it to Taehyun— I had a hunch of what might’ve transpired from that night, and I had to make sure it was true before I sent you this. ___, please know that I’d only ask this of you if I were completely serious.

Your heart stops as you read the next line, eyes glued to the parchment as though to make sure it weren’t misreading it— no matter how much you stare at it, the request stays the same. I think you need to move to the kingdom of Flora.

It’s much safer for you there— I know how much you must hate reading this, but please, think about it. That woman, Irene— a necromancer— shouldn’t have been able to get her hands on you like that; she took advantage of you, and I can’t forgive myself for putting you in such a vulnerable state— Taehyun is still trying to figure out how she was able to breach the kingdom after being banished for so long.

I can’t risk her finding you again— you’d be able to live a quiet life there, tend to your garden, and I’d visit every day. You’re much better off there, you’d belong there perfectly; you wouldn’t have to deal with stupid architecture anymore, either. I’ve told Taehyun about the plan, and he’s found a place for you to stay in. Just say the word and he’ll take you.

The paper is beginning to crumble in your hands, your grip tightening as you continue to read. You can’t believe this.

I’m so sorry ___. You must hate me right now. But I can’t risk this happening to you again— I don’t think I’d be able to live with myself. Please, accept this offer; I’ll visit you the moment I’m off this stupid train.

I love you,

Yunah

You know she expects to hear back from you soon; her handwriting is so small, and she’s left the entirety of the back for you to write on. Instead, you simply stare at the letter, reading and reading and reading it again until you have the whole thing memorized, until you’ve confirmed that you didn’t misunderstand a single sentence. The paper flutters in your hands from the wind— what you thought would be a peaceful reading outside has quickly turned into a torment, Dagonyang’s peacefully sleeping figure beside you nothing more than a mockery.

Certain sentences stick out in your brain, your eyes instinctively flickering to them, etching them into your aching heart; one in particular seems to blare at you: you’d belong there perfectly.

Belong there, you scoff, a bewildered laugh escaping you as you read it again— you feel your fingertips buzz from where you hold the letter, a sharp electricity shooting through your nervous system as you read it yet again, irked by her words. It builds and buzzes inside you until you’re a trembling mess, unsure of what to do with this anger that bubbles up like lava; your eyes are inevitably drawn to a different sentence, your new breaking point: I’ve told Taehyun about the plan. Just say the word and he’ll take you.

God, you’re trembling with anger— he’s just going to send you away? Just like that? Do you really have a say in this, when everyone wants you gone so desperately? Your nails dig into the parchment, pushing and pushing until they break through— the hot, bubbling anger that simmered under your skin erupts, and before you can give it a second thought, you’re ripping the parchment to shreds, tearing it until it’s nothing more than fragments that are carried off by the wind. You watch them flutter off, curling up in defeat as you will yourself not to cry.

All these years spent with Yunah, proving yourself and succeeding together, were they just a lie? Was any of it real when Yunah, the woman who swore up and down that she’d never put much importance on your differences, was convinced you belonged somewhere other than the place you built your entire life in?

The sun has set, and Dagonyang has left your side after the chill of night emerged— but you remain the same, attempting to wrap your head around the news you’ve read, of the things that are expected of you.

Taehyun has come out in search of you again. The sound of his voice is nothing but salt in your wound, a reminder that tomorrow, you’re expected to leave the city and never turn back. He calls out your name multiple times, but you’ve yet to budge— by the fourth time, he sighs and makes his way over to you.

“___ please, won’t you stop sulking and come inside—?” Taehyun’s voice is caught in his throat as you finally look up, and at him. Pupils locking firmly with his, your eyes wide and glassy, an intense stare that dares him to look away.

“Did you and Yunah have fun? Stringing me along like this?” you say, standing up and glaring at Taehyun; he frowns, opening his mouth to say something, but is left speechless. “Making me believe that I’d ever belong in a place like this, when in reality, you were no better than everyone else here that saw me as a little pet!”

“What?” he breathes out, “What are you talking about?”

“Yunah told me everything!” you shout, feeling emotions catching in your throat, stinging your eyes, “Irene, the plan— you expect me to pack up my life and hide myself away just so you can feel better?”

Taehyun seems to have caught on to what you mean. “___, you need to understand where we’re coming from—”

“Why? I’m a person too!” it’s all become too much for you, and you’ve begun to choke up on your words— it’s too much, confronting Taehyun like this, even more so when it feels like he’s not listening. “I can’t just give everything up because you guys don’t want to deal with me!”

He flinches at your words, and you find confusion starting to overtake his face, his voice nothing more than a murmur. “What?

You scoff at his confusion. “Please, don’t try to act innocent— I get it, I really do— I put you in this crazy mess; I’ve dragged you down enough, and I know you want nothing more than for me to go away, but honest to god, I’m not asking you to look after me like this!”

Tears have begun to well up in your eyes— you feel humiliated, leaving yourself vulnerable like this, but you can’t seem to stop talking; every little thought that’s nagged you in the back of your mind is now coming out like word vomit, and you can’t seem to stop it.

“If this weak, foolish human wants to stay in this big, scary, magical kingdom, then just let me!” you cry out, ignoring the way he shakes his head at your words, “let me get messed with, let me make mistakes, let me get tricked— and if it doesn’t end well, then so be it!

“But I will not sit around and let you make decisions for me— I am not going to Flora because it’s where you think I belong,” you’re practically shaking with anger at the thought, gritting your teeth at Taehyun, “I refuse to.”

“It’s not that easy,” Taehyun starts, shaking his head at your naivety, “we can’t risk Irene coming back just because you want to stay here—”

“Were you even listening to me?!” you’re exasperated, feeling a tear slip down your cheek. “you want to get rid of me that bad? What, are you gonna tell me this was all your idea next—?”

“You think I want to abandon you?!” It’s the first time he’s raised his voice at you like this since that night, and you can’t help the way you flinch at the sound— he hesitates to continue at the sight. “You think I’m happy with all of this? Do you really think it was my idea to send you off like this, away from me?”

Your face falls at his words.

”Yunah was mortified when I told her what happened. She couldn’t stop blaming herself for it,” Taehyun runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “She was set on the fact that you needed to be relocated— that Irene would come back for you if you stayed.”

His eyes flicker away from yours, but even so, you still catch the way they shine under the moonlight; his voice wavers as he speaks.

“That night… it haunts me.” he looks back at you, brows knitting together at the thought, “I almost lost you. To this day, I still haven’t the slightest clue on how I was able to destroy that— that thing.”

“I’d rather die than get rid of you,” his voice has dropped significantly, and there’s an edge that makes it tremble slightly— an emotion that fights to break free, nearing you as he speaks, “you’re not a burden. I don’t care that you’re human— I’d look after you no matter what you were. I’d pick up all of your messes, I’d get involved in every disaster you caused. I’d happily let you drag me down, if it meant being with you.”

“I just can’t afford to lose you,” he says weakly; he’s just a step away from you now, his face so close you can analyze the look in his eyes, count every eyelash that brushes against his skin with every blink, “and if it meant letting you go to keep you safe… I’d do that, too.”

It’s quiet. The breeze continues to whistle between the branches of the trees around you, The wildlife that’s hidden within the forest now sound asleep. The stars are out tonight, as is the moon— it casts a soft glow onto the man before you, his sparkling eyes looking at you with something so intense, it makes your knees week. He’s so close, you think that if you leaned in a little, you could…

”Taehyun,” you breathe out; his eyes flash with desperation at the sound of his name falling from your lips. “I don’t want to leave.”

He gulps.

”Then don’t.”

Time seems to still the moment the words come out his mouth, the two of you stuck where you are— hesitant, afraid to go on with what you both desperately want. His eyes flicker down to your lips; his hands twitch at his sides. He watches as you slowly reach out, cupping a gentle hand around his face, fingertips caressing the strong jawline, the soft curve of his cheekbones, the dimple that indents his cheek as he presses his lips together and swallows. He lets you bring him closer to you, leaning until your other hand is able to land on his nape, tangling with his dark hair— he lets you come closer, feeling your breath mix with his, seeing your eyes flutter shut, your lips slightly trembling as they part; his heart is on the verge of combusting as he feels your lips press gently against his.

It’s a quick, soft peck— you’re pulling away immediately, wide eyes looking at Taehyun as though you’ve done something wrong; he’s quick to show you you’ve done anything but, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you back in, showing you just how much he reciprocates this.

Taehyun kisses you with a primal hunger that makes your legs weak, sighing softly against his lips, sharp canines playfully biting at your flesh to hear the way you gasp, pulling lightly at his hair in response. His hand smooths up your back, going back down and pulling you even closer, until your bodies are flush together and you’re grabbing onto him for support— his other hand has found itself on the back of your head, keeping you close, unable to run from his starved kiss.

You try desperately to ignore the burning of your lungs, but you’re getting lightheaded— gently, you go to move away from Taehyun, the man immediately pulling away to gauge your reaction; when he finds nothing but dazed, lovestruck eyes looking back at him, your hand that rests on his shoulder gripping onto him a little tighter, he lets out an airy laugh.

“Tell me to stop,” the look in his eyes is slowly darkening, losing that innocent shine to make way for something more— something desperate. His hand on your back has begun to wander dangerously low, hovering at the small of your back and threatening to go lower— his eyes flicker down to your shining, swollen lips, ready to dive back in, but he holds himself back. “Tell me to end it here, and I’ll listen.”

You can hear the restraint in his voice, a warning of what may come— but even then, you shake your head; his eyes darken at the sight. Your voice is a breathy whisper that makes him shiver. ��I don’t want you to stop. Don’t hold back.”

He curses under his breath before he’s diving back in, returning with a fervor that makes your mind spin. He’s rougher, needier, eating you up and indulging in every little thing you give him— your gasps, your whines, your fingers that dig into his skin and pull at his hair— it all fuels him even more, finally able to release the frustration that’s been pent up for a long time.

“I need you,” he murmurs against your mouth, reaching down to grab your ass, pressing you firmly against him— you gasp, feeling him already hardening, and he takes that opportunity to explore every inch of you; he groans softly, rolling his hips forward. “I need you so bad.”

“You have me,” you say, breathless— he lets out a small moan at your words, pressing himself harshly against you, whining at a particularly firm thrust that allows you to take in the outline of his cock, “take me.”

“Fuck,” he curses lowly, and before you can understand what’s happening, he’s picking you up and wrapping your legs around his waist, strong arms holding you up as he leans back in to kiss you— he brings the two of you inside, letting out a soft groan at the way you tangle your hands in his hair, nails scratching at his scalp. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

It doesn’t take long before he’s kicking his bedroom door shut and laying you down on the bed— it’s only then that he’s able to part from you, holding himself up as he takes you in properly, watching as you whine and try to tug him back down; he chuckles, caving in instantly before he’s guiding you up on the bed, letting your head fall back on his pillows and making sure you’re comfortable.

”God, you’re so beautiful,” he finds himself sighing out, sitting back on his knees as he takes a good look at you— you squirm under the intensity of his gaze, his hands running up and down your sides absentmindedly, feeling your warm skin heat up against his.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for so long,” Taehyun seems to be talking more to himself at this point, lost in your trance as you begin to guide him to take your undress you, his eyes never straying from your body as he looks at you in pure awe— you shiver at the groan he lets out when your bra is finally thrown to the side, his lips immediately coming down to press a kiss right on your chest, giving you another before he’s wandering down and latching his lips around your nipple; your back arches at the warmth of his mouth, a quiet mewl escaping you.

His hands have begun to venture down to your hips, playing with the waistband of your pants and tugging it so he can slip a hand inside. Your fingers card through his hair absentmindedly, pulling at it desperately the moment his fingers begin to press at your cunt over your soaked panties, fingertips running up and down your slit to feel the way you begin to moan breathlessly, hips bucking against his hand in search of more— but he’s a tease, going up to gently circle your clit, a ghost touch that shoots sparks straight to your core and empties your mind.

“Please— don’t tease,” you breathe out, head falling back as he presses two fingers against your clenching hole through your panties, chuckling at the way you try to suck him in, desperate to feel yourself stretched out— the feeling is disappearing just as quick as it came, and his hand is leaving your cunt to grab your hips, holding you in place as he slots himself between your legs.

”Can’t help myself,” he murmurs against your lips forcing your hips to angle up so he can grind down against you; he’s savoring the feeling, smiling against your mouth as he presses his cock firmly against your entrance, your hands anchoring on his shoulders as you whimper weakly, “you just make the prettiest noises.”

“Wanna hear you like this all night,” he’s picked up a rhythm as he grinds against you, rough hands holding you from bucking your hips back— all you can do is lie there and take it, pleasure tumbling from your mouth as his lips begin to wander to your jawline, trailing gentle kisses that travel to your neck; nipping at it playfully, he holds back a laugh at the way you jolt against him. “Think you can take it?”

“I can. I can take it,” you rush to say, arching back making your chest press against his, hands tugging at the hem of his shirt as you silently beg him to take it off, “I don’t want you to hold back.”

“Good girl,” he purrs, finally breaking away to give in to your demands— you lie back in awe as he finally pulls his shirt over his head, eyes glued to the muscles he’s been hiding away from you, desperate to commit it all to your memory; reaching out, you run your hands down his body, down his shoulders to his firm chest, down the abs on his stomach that flinch at your nails that scratch at his skin, until you’ve reached the waistband of his pants, tugging at it in hopes that he’ll give in to your desperation and just give you what you need— instead, he takes your hands in his, tutting softly at you before he’s putting them above your head.

“Taehyun, c’mon,” you whine, trying to tug your hands out of his grip; it tightens in response, your voice wavering as he looks up at you, raising a brow in warning; even then, you refuse to give up on your complaints.

”You’re taking too long,” you tease, bucking your hips up desperately, “are you gonna do anything?”

Without warning, you begin to feel a warm sensation on your wrists, a slight tingling that makes you look up at your bound hands— you find a silver glow where Taehyun’s hands hold onto yours, eyes widening as you watch him let go of your hands now bound by his magic. Your head snaps down to send Taehyun a petulant glare.

“Oh, you’re mean.”

“You started it,” he chirps, using his newfound mobility to run his hands down your sides, until he’s gripping your hips and stripping you down to nothing more than your soaked panties; your face heats up at the vulnerability of the situation, trying to hide your face in your arms as you watch him settle down on his stomach between your legs— you try to squeeze your thighs together shyly, and Taehyun tsks; a pathetic yelp leaves you as he spanks your thigh.

“Taehyun,” you whine, starting to feel that familiar warmth circling around your thighs, an invisible force that makes you part your legs, left completely vulnerable to the man who’s now situating your legs over his shoulders, held still by his magic, “this is so unfair!”

“You got yourself into this mess, baby,” he scolds you, kissing your inner knee, going up until he’s at the apex of your thigh, smiling at the way they shake, “y’gotta learn how to be patient.”

His words are enough to make you nervous, squirming in his grip as he slowly slides down your panties, indulging in the wet slick that sticks to the fabric, eagerly shifting closer to your center.

He places a kiss on your mound first; you want to squeeze your eyes shut and complain, aware of this game he wants to play. But you bite your tongue, looking down curiously to catch the way he looks up at you through his lashes, smiling when you make eye contact before moving down just a bit more and placing a gentle kiss on your clit— you feel the breathiness of his laugh when you jolt at the sensation, plush lips warm against your swollen, needy clit. He takes his sweet time before doing anything more— warm hands running up and down your thighs lovingly, watching you get more desperate as the seconds go by, chest heaving and slick dripping from your entrance pathetically.

He presses another kiss to your clit; then another, and another, until he finally parts his lips to suck the pearl into his mouth, running his tongue along it and closing his eyes in bliss, listening keenly for the broken moans of his name you let out. His tongue lolls out to firmly lick at your clit, circling around it before trailing down, running along your folds and licking up the arousal that had been dribbling down to the bedsheets eagerly, feeling the way you try to squirm and break free from the binds that keep you spread open for him.

“Tyunnie, please— stop being mean,” you cry at some point, feeling as though you’re going insane with the way his tongue is buried deep inside you, face pressed against your cunt and eyes closed in pure bliss, nose brushing against your clit as he continues to eat you out; you try to struggle against the binds on your wrists, but they won’t budge. “please, I wanna touch you.”

When he finally pulls away, it’s only to send you a mean grin. “You gotta be patient,” he reminds you, leaning down to lick a firm strip from your entrance to your clit, feeling the way you shudder against him, “let me have my fun first, okay?”

You go to curse at him under your breath, but it all falls short the moment you feel his fingertips begin to circle your entrance, collecting the arousal that leaks through your hole before slowly pushing in his ring and middle finger in. Your eyes flutter shut, the knot in your stomach only tightening at the stretch, lithe fingers slowly pushing in until it hits the knuckle, dedicated mouth not stopping its ministrations on your clit all the while. When he can no longer push in, he curls his fingers curiously, picking up gentle pace and pressing against your warm walls until he hears your breath stutter, your thighs jolting when he hits a particular spot; you feel a breathy laugh against your clit, and he proceeds to hit that sensitive spot until you’re a shaking, pleading mess.

”Taehyun,” you whine, nails digging into the palm of your hands as the pleasure begins to dizzy you, “T— Taehyun, tyun, I can’t— feels so good, please don’t stop, please.”

Your muscles are beginning to tense, chest heaving as you feel the fire in your stomach growing hotter, mouth falling open as he continues to suck on your clit, thrusting his fingers into you a little faster. until you’re squeezing your eyes shut and bucking your hips against his mouth, crying out his name with broken pleas to cum.

It comes crashes down so suddenly— a shiver wracks through you and you can only choke out a soft call of Taehyun’s name as your orgasm rips through you, cunt fluttering around his fingers that continue to curl and thrust into you, his tongue wandering from your throbbing clit to your entrance as he licks up all the arousal that spills around his fingers, groaning softly at the tight squeeze and the taste of your cum on his mouth; he’s addicted, helping you ride it out until your body becomes sensitive, bleary eyes peeking down to see that he has yet to stop, and doesn’t plan to any time soon.

“Tyun,” you breathe out; the man merely glances up at you before returning back to your cunt, feeling your cunt clench as he curls his fingers against you once more, smiling at the yelp that follows, “Tyun, it’s too much, I’m sensitive—!”

“Want you to give me another one,” he murmurs against you, his fingers stiling inside you as he says it; he finally looks up at you, and you find a primal need in his eyes, his hand that’s holding your thigh gripping you a little harder, as though afraid you would run away, “can you do that for me?”

You take a second to catch your breath, his eyes following the rise and fall of your chest as though in a trance; he leans down to place kisses along your skin yet again, against your navel and around your pelvic bone as he lets you take a moment to answer; he nips softly at your hip bone, and you feel your resolve crumble in an instant.

“Yes,” the word is barely slipping from your tongue before Taehyun is diving back in, moving with such desperation that all you can do is lay back and watch in awe. He’s taken note of what drives you crazy, eager to use it against you; your teeth are sinking into your bottom lip to prevent yourself from screaming as he hits your sweet spot continuously, sucking your clit and running his tongue along it until he’s building you up even faster than he did before, an undeniably triumphant smile tugging at his lips the moment you start sobbing that you’re going to cum again.

You’re desperate to thrash around under him, to clamp your legs around his head and run your fingers through his hair, but all you can do is lay there and buck your hips against his mouth, teary eyes unable to look away from the sight before you, pleasure crashing down on you and leaving your body a trembling, buzzing mess.

“There you go pretty girl, y’listen so well,” he coos against you, helping you ride out the waves of your orgasm with a gentle pace of his fingers, kissing your clit lovingly between his praises. “Sound so good, just. For. Me.”

The rings that bound your wrists and thighs are buzzing for a moment before it all fades away; you only let your muscles relax for a second before you’re immediately reaching down to run your fingers through Taehyun’s hair, lacing through the dark locks before tugging and guiding him back up— he lets you, an amused chuckle leaving his lips as he crawls over you, situating himself between your legs that still twitch with aftershocks, his arms by your head that hold him up caging you in. He takes a moment to observe you, eyes warm with an undeniable fondness as he takes in your shiny eyes and swollen lips, glancing down at your chest that heaves as you try to catch your breath. Reaching to cup your face, he runs his thumb along your cheekbone before leaning down to capture your lips in a soft, slow kiss.

“This is better than anything I imagined,” he confesses quietly, and you don’t bother holding back the smile that breaks out against his mouth.

“You imagined this?”

“So many times,” he immediately breathes out, tilting his head to kiss you deeper before pulling away briefly, letting go of your face to tug at his remaining clothes, “thought of having you under me like this so many times, making you feel good like this.”

You hum softly at his words, running your fingers through his hair and pulling gently at the roots, tangling comfortably around his nape.

”Thought about making you mine,” he whispers softly, and for the first time, you spot a bit of hesitance in his voice— a vulnerability that doesn’t slip past you, picking it up between his kisses that begin to linger along your face, from your cupid's bow to your jawline; his breath stutters, and you gasp— his cockhead is thick and sticky with precum as it presses against your entrance, his hand that wraps around the length taking its time to rub up and down your slit, lingering and pressing down at your clit teasingly. The mixture of your arousals is loud, and if the feeling of his cock sliding up and down your awaiting cunt wasn’t driving you crazy, you would’ve hid your face in your hands from embarrassment.

“I’ve imagined so many times how you’d feel… how you’d sound so pretty,” he moans softly, the reminder making his hips buck unexpectedly against you, the two of you gasping as his tip prods at your hole for just a second, “Thought of keeping you here with me. Of being all yours.”

He hears the way you whimper quietly at that last part, feels your thighs press against his hips, antsy hands pulling at his hair as a quiet plea for more— he’s driving you crazy, and his sweet words against your skin are definitely not helping.

“I want that— I want to stay with you,” you’re guiding Taehyun to look up at you again, watching his dazed eyes lock onto yours, drowning with a primal need that burns hotter the longer he looks at you. Your hand wanders from his hair and down the expanse of his broad back, until you’re pressing at the small of his back and urging his hips forward; you don’t dare look away from him for a second, determined to make him see your resolve. “Taehyun, please.”

Your voice is a siren’s song to him; his cock twitches at the blatant need on your face, and without further warning, his guiding his cock inside you. The stretch makes your mouth fall open and your head loll back onto the pillows; he’s so thick, and you can feel it pulse the more it makes its way inside your cunt, holding your breath at the burn that ebbs away into pleasure— by the time his hips are flush against yours, you’re leaking onto the sheets beneath you, feeling as though he’s so deep you can’t breathe.

“You feel so good,” Taehyun weakly groans, glancing down to where your bodies meet before moaning again, “so fucking good, fuck. You’re perfect.”

You can only bring yourself to whimper weakly against his lips that peck at yours; you don’t think you could begin to put the way he feels into words, so full of him that it’s making you dizzy. He remains still for a second, the two of you basking in the feeling of each other, his cock twitching inside your fluttering walls, a mess of slick dripping from your entrance the longer you’re left to wait in anticipation.

“Ready, baby?” he asks softly, having noticed your dazed expression. You’re eager to nod, clumsy hips rolling forward and making him press harder against you— you shiver at the feeling, barely able to register Taehyun’s amused chuckle as he slowly begins to pull out.

It’s a slow, quiet moment, your nails digging into his skin as the two of you savor the feeling of each other, stuttered breaths and soft whimpers the only thing filling the air. He pulls out until only his tip is left inside you, pushing back in and filling you up with one swift motion. You let out a loud moan at the feeling, mind spinning at the way his cock curves and presses against your walls, teasing your sweet spot. Taehyun does this again, his head that was once hanging to allow him to watch the way he disappeared inside you now hovering above yours, watching carefully as your eyes widen and brows knit together with pleasure at every thrust; a sly smile sneaks onto his face as you quietly moan out his name.

“Feels good?” he asks, punctuating his question with a sudden, rough thrust that has you jolting; your nails dig into his skin just a little more, and he’s shifting, sitting up to take a good look at you.

“You’re so cute,” he laughs, “barely even started and you’re already a mess. You sure you can take it?”

“I can,” you whine petulantly, feeling him slow down his pace, barely moving inside you, “Tyun, I need more…”

“Hmm? I don’t know, baby,” he’s slowly rutting his hips into you, enjoying the way you pout at him, “can you ask nicely?”

Your face heats up at his words; it’s such a bold request, one that has you trying to shy away from his gaze, intense and hungry as it watches you every move. Clearing your throat, you try to ignore how pathetic you sound.

“Please… Taehyun,” he’s shifting, moving so that he’s hovering over you, a strong hand rubbing up and down your thigh as he props himself up with his elbow, a coy smile stuck to his face. “I want you to fuck me, please— I need it, want you to give it to me.”

“Such a sweet angel,” he coos, pecking your lips before he’s beginning to thrust back into you, burying himself as deep as he can before he’s picking up the pace, more and more until his cock is abusing your leaking cunt and your body is jolting with every thrust, your eyes squeezing with bliss, “You’re so perfect, how could I ever say no to you?”

His hand on your thigh is grabbing on tight, hiking up your leg to wrap around his waist, hips angling so that he can reach deeper into you. He’s practically fucking you into the mattress, thick cock stretching you out and rubbing against your walls so perfectly, his soft moans and sighs of your name making you clench around him each time.

He feels so good against you, strong, firm muscle against your body, honey skin smooth beneath your hands that scratch at his back, leaving a particularly harsh trail after he thrusts against your sweet spot, the grunt of pain he lets out in your ear only making you clench around him harder— he’s filling your senses, cooing out soft praises and placing gentle kisses along your jawline, groaning out your name when he feels the way you begin to tighten around him, hips growing restless against his.

“I’m close,” you whimper, legs mindlessly wrapping around his waist, wanting him to be flush against you, “fuck— please don’t stop, you feel so good.”

“I’m close too, angel,” he murmurs, hand letting go of your thigh to reach up for your own, lacing his fingers with yours and pinning your hand against the mattress, “want you to cum for me. Wanna feel it, wanna listen to those pretty little sounds of yours.”

“Cum inside me,” the request slips from your mouth before you can think too much of it; judging by the way Taehyun’s hips stutter and he lets out a weak moan against your skin, you’re sure your words have affected him. When he asks if you mean it, you nod. “Please— wanna be filled up, please cum inside.”

Taehyun moves from his place in your neck to watch you closely, feeling his own orgasm building up intensely; his eyes scan your face, memorizing every detail of your expression, listening to the way your moans pick up in desperation.

“Baby,” he says, and when you don’t look at him, he calls out your name; it’s soft, broken, a moan that has your eyes fluttering open to meet his. “You gonna cum baby?”

You nod, eyes rolling back when he reaches down to rub your clit, dizzy at the pleasure.

”Look at me,” he says, feeling his pace become sloppy as his own orgasm approaches, desperate to watch you fall apart, “wanna watch you when you cum.”

He grinds his hips against you firmly, his tip rutting against your sweet spot making you unravel in an instant, your hand that squeezes against his instantly being squeezed back in silent reassurance. The pleasure crashes on you so intensely, your mind going blank save for Taehyun’s name that you repeat like a prayer. Your eyes never leave his, watching as he follows you seconds after, his brows furrowing and his jaw clenching before he lets out a weak moan of your name, cock continuing to thrust slowly into you as he cums.

It’s so warm, a constant pulsing of is cock that fills you up until it no longer can, sticky cum leaking from your entrance and smearing against your skin as he keeps fucking the two of you through it, until your body slumps against the bed and he melts down onto you, burying his head in your neck.

You don’t know how long you stay like this, drifting in and out of consciousness; his cock nestled into you, his hand that holds yours tight, the pressure of his body against yours, pinning you to the bed, keeping you safe. He’s warm, and you can feel your chests rising and falling slowly, feel his heartbeat that attempts to return back to normal, his breath a gentle sensation against your skin.

“I meant everything I said. And more,” he suddenly speaks up, burying his head into you, fond of the comfort it brings, “Stay with me. I don’t care what Yunah thinks is best for you— I want you to stay.”

A moment passes, and you allow yourself to think. You feel his hold on you tighten the longer this silence continues, as though afraid this might be the last time he’ll have you like this.

“Taehyun,” you say softly, feeling him tense against you, “I want to stay too.”

It’s instant, the way he melts against you in relief. He sighs, placing a kiss on the crook of your neck.

“Thank god,” he murmurs, beginning to litter kisses all along your skin, not stopping until you’re a giggly mess beneath him, “thank god. I didn’t want to lose you.”

“You’ll never get rid of me,” you grin, cupping his face and guiding him to kiss you, gentle, sweet, “not if I can help it.”

“Good,” bringing up your hands that are still interlaced, he kisses the back of your hand before giving you a sweet smile. “Wouldn’t want it any other way.”

○○○

It’s late at night when you hear the bell ring— you don’t pay it any mind, continuing to organize the shelf behind the counter as Yunah greets the new guest, leaving to the back to search for ingredients for her potion.

It’s quiet, and you hear the way they wander along the floor, moving from shelf to shelf, picking up jars before setting them back down with a soft clink; you can’t help but hope that they’ll leave soon, left with only five minutes before you’re able to shut the apothecary— you itch to leave, to go back home and see Taehyun.

You’re too concentrated on labelling the jars to realize that the customer has been waiting at the counter impatiently, watching as you continue to show your back to them.

“Beomgyu’s right,” you feel a warm sensation along your waist, and before you can process what’s happening, you’re being dragged away from the shelf with a gasp— you’re hovering just above the floor, unable to do anything more than get dragged around the counter and into a certain someone’s awaiting arms; Taehyun is quick to hug you close the moment his magic brings you to him, placing a chaste kiss on your cheek before laughing at your expression. “you do need to work on your customer service.”

You frown. “What? What has he been telling you?”

“Oh nothing. That you’re never greeting him properly, always off in your own little world,” he spins you around with ease, wrapping his arms around your waist to bring you in close. “daydreaming about me.”

“Oh god,” you roll your eyes, already imagining the stupidities Beomgyu has been feeding Taehyun, “how childish. I don’t want you talking to him anymore.”

”It was your idea to introduce us properly, love,” he reminds you, a smug smile on his face, “you’ve gotta deal with the consequences now.”

You can only bring yourself to grumble a soft whatever, scanning the apothecary curiously before sending Taehyun a pout. “Where’s Dago?”

He smiles, expectant of the question. “At home. He’s been missing you all day.”

“Then what are we waiting for?!” you push him away, running behind the counter to grab your bag, “let’s go home!”

It’s instinct to lace your fingers with Taehyun’s waiting hand, turning around to catch Yunah reappearing from the back, a trail of jars behind you.

“Heading out for the night?” she asks, smiling at the way you nod happily, “See you tomorrow then. Get home safe you two.”

“We will. Love ya!” you chirp, watching Taehyun bid her goodbye before following you out the store.

“Long day, Tyunnie?” you ask, the two of you beginning your trip home, “you’re dragging your feet.”

“You have no idea,” he sighs, and when you ask if he wants to talk about it, he shakes his head. “Maybe later. Don’t feel like boring you with the meeting we had today.”

”All I could think about was how much I missed you,” he trails off a bit, eyes darkening as he begins to observe you carefully, amused at the way you still fluster at his gaze, “could barely pay attention to what was being said.”

You scoff, refusing to give into his antics so easily. “Surprised they haven’t fired you.”

“C’mon baby, don’t be mean,” he teases you, tugging your hand to pull you into his side, giving you a soft kiss on your cheek, “is it so hard to believe that I’m so in love with you?”

“Hmm, I don’t know about that,” you bite back a teasing smile, “you’ll have to prove it.”

He chuckles, a dark, mischievous sound that already has you shivering with anticipation.

“Guess we’ll have to hurry home then.”

You can’t bring yourself to resist as he sweeps you off your feet, a warm silver glow encasing you as he takes you home the fastest way he can— if anything, you merely tease him about his eagerness, which he swiftly makes you take back after a long, long night of proving himself.

taglist: @xylatox, @fancypeacepersona, @taebatu, @prettypeachprincesz, @archoive, @bingsoob, @fatbixchwithanopinion, @notanotherbigfangirl, @soobundle1009, @barbielibra

#txt fanfic #txt fanfiction #txt imagines #txt oneshots #txt ff #txt x reader #txt smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #taehyun smut #taehyun ff #taehyun imagines #taehyun oneshot #taehyun x reader #taehyun fanfic #taehyun fanfiction

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13lov · 2 years ago

Text

tethered. | jjk

Love notes were slipped into your locker on a daily basis. Variations of messy, boyish handwriting on yellow sticky notes stacked upon themselves by the end of each school day. Every Friday night you were invited out with the promise of "You'll have fun, just give it a chance."

You could have any guy you wanted, no doubt about it. Yet somehow, the only one you do want is the tattooed, gothic one that lives a few doors down from your best friend.

✰ pairing. — emo!jk x reader

✰ genre. — early 2000s au, best friend's older brother, childhood friends to lovers, smut, light angst.

✰ word count. — 7k+

✰ warnings. — swearing, family issues, partying, mentions of drinking/drugs, friendship betrayel (?), smut [virginity loss, teasing, fingering, soft dom!jk, "i've waited so long for this" type shit], reader and jk are both 18+, minors dni.

✰ a/n. really love this pairings and would love to have drabbles with them in the future, so pls lmk if u guys would be interested in that! thanks for all the love on the teaser, hope u enjoy! <3

✰ taglist. @ahgasegotarmy116 @hellbornsworld @kissyfacekoo @littlestarstinyseven @skzthinker

Jeon Somi isn't blind to this, immediately pulling you away from the crowd to question the longing gaze on your face. "Out of every fucking guy here with us, you're making eyes at my brother? You do know that Jungkook is completely gross, right?" She was so furious, you're surprised no steam was blowing from her ears.

Deny it all you want (and you certainly did within that fifteen-minute interrogation); Jungkook very clearly had a hold on you that lasted many years following that fateful night. He wasn't even your usual type; he wouldn't be caught dead around the guys you're typically drawn to. He had a rebellious side; maybe that's why getting him out of your head was nearly impossible.

Of course, the eternal guilt of falling for your best friend's older, dumbass brother is also difficult to get out of your head.

It can't be helped, really. Anytime you'd visit their home, your eyes would automatically wander through the crack of his doorway as you'd pass by. Whether he was messily cutting his dark hair while blasting Pierce the Veil from his speakers or giving himself a new Stick-and-Poke tattoo as he waited for a CD to finish burning, you long to break away from Somi for a moment to speak to him. Ask him about his day or if his band had any upcoming gigs. You'd even talk to him about paint drying if it meant you'd get to be in the same space as him.

So it's safe to say you were completely heartbroken when he left for college. Somi, however, is over the moon. Or so you think.

"… He's your brother, though. You don't think you're gonna miss him at all?" You ask, watching Somi delicately paint your fingernails a pretty shade of purple.

She shrugs, "I mean… it's definitely gonna be weird not seeing him around the house every day, but he'll still visit sometimes. Maybe."

Deep down, Somi knows Jungkook won't visit much. He'd been craving freedom and independence from their parents for ages, and moving away for college gave him the perfect opportunity to live as he pleased. They weren't fond of the clothes he wore or the friends he had, and absolutely couldn't bear the music his band makes. They criticized every little thing about him, and he'd finally be getting a break from them.

As you're about to ask Somi if she's okay, she stands from her bed, screwing the nail polish closed. "I'll be back. I have to let Bam out." Her voice is shaky, and she doesn't look at you as she exits the room.

You take the opportunity to make your way down the hall and to Jungkook's door, which he has conveniently left wide open as he scrolls on his desktop. His knees are pressed against his chest as he's heavily focused on editing his Facebook page. There's a rock song playing lightly from another tab that you can't quite identify; he uses his free hand to gently tap along to the beat of the music.

His room is covered in cardboard boxes, soon to be packed into his parents' minivan and making their way to the University of San Francisco dorms.

Your knuckles tap on his wooden door, your heart fluttering when he turns around, and you realize he's changed the ring on his lip from black to silver.

He nods at you, "What's up?"

"Cool, thanks." You assume that was his way of indirectly telling you to get out until he reaches into his desk drawer and says, "Catch," before tossing something towards you.

Careful not to mess up your manicure, you easily catch the item, unfolding what appears to be a purple bandanna. "What's this for?" You ask, inspecting the material in your palms.

"To remember me by, duh. Plus, it matches your nails.”

When you turn to leave, Jungkook stops you with a gentle call of your name. He turns his head in your direction, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth. "Can I tell you something?"

"Anything." You whisper back, praying you don't sound overly desperate for a more extended interaction with him.

A beat of silence passes, and just as he opens his mouth to respond, Somi is stomping up the stairs and belting out your name. You gaze away from Jungkook to glance behind you, listening as his sister shouts about doing each other's makeup.

"Never mind, actually. It's not important." Jungkook interrupts, and you physically feel your heart sink to the floor.

You're about to be annoying and pry a response out of him until your eyes dart to his floor, and you see it. What slipped out from his drawer when he tossed the bandana at you.

A condom wrapper. An empty one, at that.

It's odd, though. You're not entirely naive; you know Jungkook definitely flirts with you here and there, catching his eye when his gaze lingers on you for a second too long. There's a noticeable tension between the two of you that even your parents have teased about. And this whole time, he's been screwing someone else?

Jungkook hangs out with so many girls it'd be useless to even attempt to uncover who this mystery person is. It's none of your business, anyway.

So you leave.

You tell Somi you'll get grounded if you're home past curfew, and with tear-stained cheeks, you run home.

The following day isn't any easier.

Somi posted a photo on FaceBook of herself and Jungkook posing together, arms wrapped around each other, with the caption "c u l8r alligator XD". The comments are already flooded with responses wishing Jungkook farewell, some from family members or friends of the siblings.

"Don't 4get abt me!!!!!! >:( "from a girl with red hair catches your eye because it's the only one Jungkook responded to. You can't bring yourself to read his full reply, fingers moving to quickly close the tab after seeing the word 'Never.'

It's probably her, you think to yourself, the one he's sleeping with.

Maybe it's for the best that Jungkook's moving away; it'll give you some time to get over him.

And you most certainly did.

The only time he ever crosses your mind is when Somi brings him up (which she rarely does) or when you pass by his empty bedroom. Deep down, you know you'll always care for Jungkook on some level, but time away from him was just what you needed. You were too attached to him for no fathomable reason, rejecting any guy interested in you with the premise of being loyal to a guy who didn't even want you. He'd probably been sneaking girls in through his window, with you a few doors down doing magazine quizzes with his sister; blissfully unaware of what was happening down the hall.

You’re better off without him.

That's what you've been telling yourself daily until now. It's the start of summer vacation, and Jungkook's been summoned home to spend it with his family before Somi (and you) transfer to the University of San Francisco.

Jungkook was hesitant about coming home, as he always is. In constant fear that his parents have some elaborate plan for him to change his major or set him up with someone they deem acceptable, nothing like the girls he hangs around and probably invites back to his dorm.

It took days of convincing until Jungkook finally agreed to come home, under the premise that his parents' intentions were pure and that they simply wanted one last summer together before Somi moved away for college. They also hoped he'd be able to house-sit and watch over Somi for a few days as they took their annual anniversary trip to San Diego. That, however, took some bribing and the promise of gas money on their end.

Some of you have debated telling Somi about your past feelings for her brother, but there's no point. It was a one-sided relationship with absolutely zero depth, nothing worth discussing. So when she nudges your side and asks if you're interested in anyone, you reply with a shake of your head.

Somi has no reaction to this; she can't remember the last time you've been into anyone despite having the entire male population at your school practically throwing themselves at you. "Maybe you'll meet someone tonight."

"Maybe," you respond, sighing as the house you're attending is finally in your viewpoint. "We're not staying long, right? It looks packed."

Cars are parked throughout the street, one house, in particular, being the center of attention with loud music and drunk people decorating the front yard of a suburban-looking home. Somi looks as ecstatic as ever, looping her arm in yours and picking up her pace. She doesn't respond. It doesn't matter. Her response would've disregarded your concern.

One car catches your eye as you enter the unfamiliar house; it's parked towards the end of the street, and you swear you've been in it before. You're not able to dwell on it for too long, though, because Somi has to practically yank you through the front door.

Your nerves are at an all-time high. The music is entirely too loud, and there isn't a single sober person in sight. You're not sure how Somi even found out about this party, but you really wish she would've left you out of it. You'd go now if it were acceptable, but Somi would've stayed regardless, and you refuse to leave her alone. So, you push your feelings to the side and take her hand as she leads you towards the kitchen.

"Thirsty?" Somi questions, forcing a red solo cup into your hand.

"Not at all," you respond, sighing as Somi pours something into your cup.

"It's just ginger ale," she reassures you, "I don't think either of us should get drunk here." For once, she's being reasonable.

Somi suggests you do a lap around the house in hopes of running into people you may have gone to school with. And to your surprise, a decent amount of your past classmates have decided to attend. You feel more at ease with them around, a bit more comfortable now that you're around recognizable people. Although you initially hesitated to show up, you're glad you did.

"Anybody catch your eye yet? Or are you still breaking hearts?" Your old classmate, Yeoreum, questions.

You shake your head, about to explain that you're not interested in dating right now, until she gestures behind you. "That guy is pretty cute."

You shift on the couch, looking around until you spot who Yeoreum had been gesturing towards. You locate him finally, and she's right; he is cute. He just seems so familiar.

That's when it hits you.

"Oh my God," you whisper, eyes locked on him, and you slowly rise from the couch.

It's Jungkook. And the car you recognized was his. He's here. What is he doing here? He isn't due to be back until tomorrow morning.

Panicked, you reach for Somi's hand, but she's nowhere to be found. Careful not to be seen by her brother, you bow your head slightly, passing through a crowd of sweaty bodies until you finally spot her kitty heels. She's leaned against a wall, swirling around her cup while flirting with some guy you'd seen around school a few times.

Creating some much-needed distance between the two, you tug Somi towards you. "I think I just saw your brother."

"What? No, he won't even be in the city until tomorrow morning."

Somi squints her eyes in disbelief at the boy in question until the doubt becomes confusion, and the confusion becomes realization. "Oh my God! The fuck is he doing here?" She turns towards you as if you're supposed to have the answer.

"The fuck should I know? You said he wouldn't be here until tomorrow morning!"

"Because that's what he told our parents! How was I supposed to know he was gonna be here? I never would've come if I knew!"

"What are you guys doing here?" A voice you haven't heard in so long interrupts. You don't even want to turn around.

"What are you doing here?" Somi throws back, and the two stare at each other in angry silence for a moment until Jungkook steps to the side. "Upstairs," he says, nodding towards the staircase.

"But—"

"Go."

Somi's clearly aggravated but makes her way towards the stairs. You remain in place with your arms crossed, raising a brow in confusion when Jungkook looks at you. "What?"

"You too."

"I'm not—"

"I'm not asking again," he says simply. You convince yourself that you only take his command because you don't feel like fighting. Definitely not because it's interesting to have him boss you around.

Trudging up the stairs behind Somi, you wait with her in the hallway until Jungkook arrives. "Come on," he says, entering a bathroom and turning the light on. Neither you nor Somi protest; there really isn't any point.

As soon as the door is shut, Somi is yelling at the top of her lungs. "What the fuck are you doing here?! You said you wouldn't be back until tomorrow morning! Mom and Dad had to push their trip back just to give you more time to arrive, and you're already fucking here?! The fuck is the matter with you?!"

"I'm not gonna respond if you're gonna be yelling like this." Jungkook says calmly, leaning against the sink, "Let me get my questions out first, then I'll answer any of yours, deal?"

Somi glances over at you, sitting on the bathtub's edge, and you nod. She returns her attention back to Jungkook, takes a deep breath, then agrees.

"Now, what are you guys doing here?! How'd you even get invited?! And you're drinking?!" The calm demeanor from earlier slips away in a matter of seconds, clearly a hoax just to get Somi to calm down enough to let him speak.

"It's just ginger ale, and we've barely even had any! We were invited by our friends, okay? We have just as much right to be here as you do."

Jungkook scoffs, clearly unamused. "Right, and I'm assuming Mom and Dad know you're here then, huh?"

Somi nervously tucks a hair behind her ear. You wonder why you even have to be in here with them. It's not like Jungkook is your brother, anyway.

"We told our parents that we were going to a birthday party at a friend's house." Somi mumbles, barely able to look Jungkook in the eye.

"And what did they say when they dropped you guys off?"

"They didn't drop us off," you interrupt, "we walked here."

"Well, I wasn't gonna tell him that." Somi glares at you, it takes every bone in your body to not to laugh at her.

You're so over this. You didn't want to attend this dumb party in the first place, and seeing Jungkook flirting with some girl who could've been his female counterpart was the icing on the cake. It doesn't matter if your feelings for him were gone before tonight; every little emotion you'd felt for him over the years had returned (as if they ever left).

"And how exactly did you two geniuses plan on getting home?"

"Same way we got here."

"Can you please just let me handle this? Jesus Christ…" Somi shoots another frustrated glare at you, and you can't help but roll your eyes at her. She turns back towards her brother, "Can you answer my questions now?"

Jungkook's eyes anxiously dart around the cramped bathroom, landing on you a few times before he's slowly nodding his head. "Alright, Mom and Dad basically forced me to spend the whole summer here, and I kept asking myself why they were so persistent about it. They finally told me they needed me to watch over you and the house for their stupid trip. I had plans too, you know? That I had to derail for them. My band could've spent this summer touring, making real money, and now we can't. So, they wanna inconvenience me? I'll inconvenience them right back."

"…Inconvenience them by doing what?" Somi asks the exact question you had.

Jungkook shrugs, "By telling them I'm gonna be arriving a day late, duh."

You and Somi exchange an awkward glance at one other before silently agreeing not to tease him about it. If this was his badass way of retaliating, who were you to rain on his parade?

"Are you gonna tell anyone you saw us here?" Somi questions, a noticible tremble in her voice.

"As long as you guys don't tell anyone you saw me."

It's a fair trade, you accept it. You're even more delighted when Jungkook says he's taking the two of you home. Somi, however, isn't too happy about this, claiming there were so many people she didn't get to speak to, and how'd this be the last time she'd get to see them before moving away for school. You're not sure if Somi is really good at getting what she wants, or if Jungkook was tired of hearing her complain, but he finally gives in and grants her ten more minutes to socialize before meeting him at his car.

"If you're not at my car in ten minutes, I swear to God I'm calling mom." Jungkook scolds, holding the bathroom door open as the three of you finally exit.

A loud, drunk voice suddenly shouts, "Woah, Jungkook! Two girls at the same time!? You fucking beast!"

"They're my sisters, you fucking pervert!" He shouts back.

You can't even dwell on how disgusting the original comment was, only being able to focus on the fact that Jungkook just reffered to you as his sister. As conceited as it may sound, you're not used to rejection or guys putting you in the friend-zone. Whatever little game Jungkook had been playing with you over the years was completely new territory. And right when you think things couldn't possibly get any worse, he calls you his sister.

What the actual fuck.

The next ten minutes go by in a blur; Somi has ditched you for a second time that night to talk to the guy from earlier. When it's finally time to leave, you find her Sat on his lap with her arm hung across his shoulder, laughing at an unfunny pickup line he'd used on her.

"It's time, Somi," you interrupt, helping her stand.

"Wait, wait, wait," she persists, directing her attention back to the boy, "tomorrow at five, right?"

"And not a second later." He sends her a disgusting wink that makes your skin crawl.

Somi is so love-struck you're surprised there isn't an arrow lodged in her back. She can barely form a proper sentence, erupting into a fit of giggles every few seconds as you make your way to Jungkook's car. "Wasn't he just gorgeous?"

You shrug, linking arms with her. "He was alright."

Stunned, Somi gasps at you, "Just alright? He was literally like a Greek God."

"I'm not saying he's unattractive; he's just...not really my type."

"And what is your type, Miss. Never-Has-Been-Interested-In-Anyone?"

Now, there's the question of the hour. You have to word your response very carefully; don't be too obvious about the fact that your ideal type is her older sibling.

Somi snickers, then playfully groans. "It sounds like you're describing my brother."

Now, you really have to test the waters.

"Since you brought him up, would it be so bad if I did like Jungkook? Hypothetically speaking, of course." You're not sure what prompts you to even ask this. It's not like he's even interested in you; he literally just referred to you as his sister.

A beat of silence passes as Somi gathers her thoughts, then she says, "No."

"What?"

You've finally reached Jungkook's car at this point, beating him there. You sit atop the trunk, feet hovering above the ground as the cold, nighttime air swirls around you. Somi shakes her head, "Obviously, it wouldn't be the ideal situation, but I guess I wouldn't mind as long as you talked to me about it first."

"First?" You mimic.

"Like...assuming you'd wanna date him or something. Just so I'm not blindsided, you know?"

You go to respond, but Jungkook, finally arriving at the car, captivates both of your attention. He finishes off his can of Pepsi before crushing the aluminum and tossing it to the ground. "Ready?" He questions.

There's no point in giving him a speech about littering; you're just ready to go home.

He fishes his keys from his pocket and unlocks the car door; Somi opens the backseat and jumps in before you have the chance, sprawling across the aged leather. "Move over," you nudge her foot with your knee; she pulls away from you.

Jungkook calls your name, "Just sit up front. She's not gonna move."

Now, this is new. You've ridden in the backseat of his car with Somi more times than you can count; he'd never allow either of you to sit shotgun with him; typical annoying older brother bullshit.

Don't make a big deal out of this, you say to yourself, climbing into the passenger seat of his car.

Somi and Jungkook bicker the entire ride to their parent's house, partially out of annoyance with each other, but you also get the feeling that neither of them were genuinely ready to leave the party. You're surprised Jungkook even enjoyed parties; he spent most of high school either working, hanging out at skate parks, or practicing with his band in their garage. College must've really changed him, and you're unsure how to feel about it.

Jungkook parks a few houses down from their parent's house and unlocks the doors, "Get out," he says into the backseat.

"Where are you gonna spend the night?" Somi questions, stretching her arms outward.

"I checked into a motel this morning. I'll be back here tomorrow around noon. And, hey," Jungkook turns around, pointing a finger at his sister. "Don't tell them you saw me."

Mockingly, Somi points a finger right back at him. "Telling them I saw you would be exposing myself, cock-sucker. Leave me alone." She angrily begins to climb out of the car, annoyed at how little trust Jungkook had in her.

You turn to go, but Jungkook's cold hand on your bicep stops you, "Where you goin'?"

"I'm gonna walk home from here. It's only a few minutes away," you respond.

Jungkook shakes his head, "I'm dropping you off. You haven't moved since I left, right?"

"No, but it's fi—"

"Then your house is on the way to my motel. We're going in the same direction; might as well ride together."

It truly does make more sense to ride together, and rejecting his offer any further surely would raise suspicions. You don't want either of them to believe you'd feel uncomfortable being alone with Jungkook because that couldn't be farther from the truth. You're perplexed about your feelings now, and you don't want to do anything you'd regret just because of the confusion.

"Okay, then." You glance over your shoulder at Somi, "Will you need any help getting ready for your date tomorrow?"

Suddenly embarrassed, Somi shushes you, gesturing that Jungkook is literally right next to you and would prefer that he didn't hear about her dating life. Jungkook genuinely couldn't care less and is instead patiently waiting for his sister to get out.

She does finally, and Jungkook resumes his path to your house. He turns the radio on, switching between stations until he stops on one that's playing a song he's familiar with. You drive silently for a few minutes; the only sounds being heard are the distant noises from the car's motor and Jungkook humming along to the radio.

He breaks the silence by saying, "I was surprised to see you back there. You never really seemed like the type to enjoy parties."

You chuckle, "I could say the same for you; I don't remember you attending any in high school."

Now that you think of it, skate park parties and raves seem much more like his scene.

"Well, I only went because Somi was going, and I didn't feel comfortable with her being there alone. Otherwise, I never would've gone." You admit, resting your head against the window.

"Thanks for looking after her, by the way. You're a good friend."

"I'd do anything for her." Your voice is barely a whisper now, getting quieter with every word you say.

Silence passes, and he says, "Did you know your guys' dorm room is gonna be right under ours?"

"Seriously?" You respond, genuinely curious.

"Mmm-hmm. My roommate, Mingyu, and I are gonna be the worst upstairs neighbors ever." He teases as you roll your eyes. Your mind can't decipher whether this banter is playful & platonic or romantic. Everything Jungkook does confuses you.

"If that's the case, I'll be sure to move to an entirely new building."

"What, so you can have your boyfriend protect you?"

Pause. Boyfriend?

You nearly give yourself whiplash from how hard you spun around to look at Jungkook. "Boyfriend?" You ask.

He shrugs nonchalantly, keeping his eyes on the road. "I just assumed you'd have one by now. Do you?"

There he is again with his mind games. What the fuck was he talking about?

After letting out a very frustrated sigh, you mumble, "No, Jungkook, I do not have a boyfriend."

"Good. Focus on school."

Now he's pissing you off. You wish he'd shut up for the rest of the car ride. "It's nice to see you again, by the way."

Holy shit, you feel like jumping out the window.

"Yeah, great seeing you too. Oh, there's my house. I can walk from here." You make quick work of undoing your seatbelt.

"You sure? I can drop you off at the door."

"No, no. It's best if my parents don't see you so they don't accidentally tell your parents that they saw you." You lie, racking your brain for any excuse imaginable.

He nods, deciding it's best to drop you off a little further from your house. "Then, I'll see you tomorrow?"

"What?" You stop dead in your tracks, one hand clutching the door handle.

"Aren't you coming over tomorrow to help Somi get ready for her…thing? I'll be back home by then."

"Yeah, I'll see you then."

The following day, Somi is back to her unreasonable self, expecting you to wait at her house for her to return from her date.

"Please? We're just going to get pizza; we won't even be gone that long." She pleads, adding the finishing touches to her makeup.

"What am I supposed to do while I wait for you to come back?" You whine.

Somi clutches her phone, locks eyes with you, then rushes towards the door. You're faster, though, quickly capturing her wrist before she's barely reached the hallway. "I'm going home."

"No! If you stay here, I'll bring you back pizza, and we can have a girls' night like we were supposed to yesterday! Come on, please?" She begs, pouting her lips.

You go to reply, but the bathroom door swings open, and Jungkook strides out. Just to your luck, he's shirtless; water droplets descend from his hair as he towel-dries it. As he enters his bedroom, he mocks his sister's high-pitched whine, earning a lethal glare and a slew of swears thrown at him.

Perhaps you should stay.

"Fine, but you're lending me your pajamas." You give in, earning an enthusiastic shriek from your best friend.

Somi wraps you in a brief, yet tight, hug before shouting, "Be back soon!" Then she's rushing down the stairs and out the front door. It's not often that Somi makes you wait for her return, but you absolutely despise it whenever it does occur. She's never back by the time she promises and gets upset when you try to call and check up on her.

And speaking of calling, you're sure your phone is dead by now. You insisted Somi bring her's along just in case, so you're left with one option.

Jungkook's door is wide open (as usual) when you go to knock. He's fully clothed now, pairing his black sweatpants with a matching black t-shirt. His hair appears mostly dry now, chaotic as ever, but dry. You don't think he's ever looked this good before.

He's sat on his bed, flipping through the latest copy of Rolling Stone when you arrive. He glances over at you and lets out a dry chuckle.

"What's so funny?" You ask.

"You're dressed like Bella Swan." He responds casually, eyes raking up and down your body.

"Who?"

You lean against the doorframe, "Haven't seen it."

"It's a great movie, seriously. Some friends and I are seeing it in a few days if you and Somi wanna come." He suggests, flipping another page in the magazine.

You let him know you'll ask Somi if she's interested before remembering why you came to his room in the first place and ask if you can borrow his phone charger. Jungkook directs you to where it's plugged up by his desk, and you finally have the chance to stroll further into his room. You can't recall the last time you've been in here, but you know it looks much different than before. Many of the band posters that decorated the room were gone, his random trinkets and piles of clothes were gone, and not a single piece of his CD collection was in sight. It felt so lifeless, so unlike him. No wonder he always dreaded returning home; it probably didn't even feel like home to him.

"So," you say, attempting to break the silence, "you're here for the whole summer, huh?"

"Unfortunately." He mumbles, "Gonna try and go by sooner, convince my parents I have to sort out an issue with my dorm or something."

"It's nice to have you back, though." You admit, watching as Jungkook's gaze locks on yours.

"Yeah? It is?" He questions.

You shrug, "Of course. We practically grew up together; it was weird to not see you all the time."

"By the way, I'm sorry about last night." He apologizes.

"For what? Calling me your sister?"

Oh. That makes sense. You definitely overreacted.

"I meant," he continues, "I'm sorry if the whole boyfriend assumption thing upset you."

"Oh," you dismissively wave a hand at him, "that was nothing."

Jungkook raises a brow at you, "Are you sure? 'Cause you seemed pretty upset afterward, you were practically running out of my car."

There's no point in lying now, considering you weren't even the slightest bit discrete the previous night.

"If I'm being completely honest, I just felt a little awkward. But that's it, I swear." You assure him, moving to lean against the bedside table.

"Awkward about what?"

God, this was so embarrassing. Is he really going to make you humiliate yourself like this?

"Because I've never actually had a boyfriend before."

Jungkook looks genuinely shocked at your confession, eyes nearly bulging out of his head as he examines yours for any sign of deception. "You don't believe me?"

"I'm not sure. I only assumed you had one just based on how crazy guys were about you in high school. Not to mention you're, like, fucking gorgeous."

What?

"I'm what?" You ask, not entirely sure if you heard him correctly.

He repeats himself again, and you make him do it a few more times until he's too embarrassed to say it again. You somehow manage to get back on the topic of never having a boyfriend before when Jungkook asks you another question. "Have you ever...?"

He doesn't need to finish the sentence. You know what he's asking.

You shake your head.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked. It's none of my business." He berates himself, and you assure him it's no big deal and that it shouldn't even be a shocker to him.

After a half hour of talking about whatever comes to mind, you wind up sitting opposite Jungkook on his bed, legs perched up underneath your body as you go back and forth, questioning one another.

"So, when are you gonna admit you had a crush on me?" His voice is barely a whisper.

"I never did." You lie.

"Really? That sucks?"

"Why?"

He shrugs, leaning his back against the headboard. "I just always thought that maybe you and I would've ended up together at some point."

Your body is moving on autopilot, limbs moving to do whatever feels right as you silently pray not to ruin the moment. Jungkook can spot your nervousness from a mile away and stop you, "We don't have to do—"

"I want to," you pant, breathless, "I've wanted this for so long."

"Do you trust me?" He asks.

"More than anything."

"Jungkook…" You moan, pleading for him to do more.

"I know." He assures you, using a single finger to pull your panties to the side, making just enough room for him to slide a finger into your aching cunt. "Am I really your first time?"

You nod again out of fear that a moan would slip from your lips if you even tried to speak. His eyes are locked on yours, studying your expression as he coaxes a finger inside you. You're embarrassed at how quickly your wetness coated his finger, but Jungkook doesn't care. He likes it, makes him feel fucking amazing knowing the effect he had on you.

"Take your shirt off." He says, and you do as told, pulling your top up and off your body and tossing it to the floor; making quick work of undoing your bra before he even has the chance to ask.

You curse under your breath, and Jungkook makes another comment about how cute you are, though you feel far from it. He apologizes by lapping his tongue around your nipple, easing the pain slowly as he inserts a second finger into your cunt.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…" You groan, legs trembling.

Jungkook is all too familiar with these actions and asks, "You're already close? I've barely done anything to you." He teases, chuckling to himself.

You know he's being lighthearted, but you can't help but feel embarrassed at the tears forming in your eyes from how good everything feels.

He makes quick work of tugging his sweatpants down his legs, tossing them into the abyss before reaching into his bedside table and retrieving a condom. "You're okay?"

You nod.

"Use your words."

“I’m okay, Jungkook.”

"You're still okay with this?"

"Yes."

"You sure?"

Jesus fucking Christ, the saint this man is.

"I'm positive." You assure him.

You move to pull down your skirt and underwear, but Jungkook catches your wrist. "Leave them on," he says. There are so many things going on that you choose not to question.

He pulls off his boxers in the meantime, hardened cock slapping against his abdomen with precum leaking from the tip. Though you had nothing to compare it to, Jungkook was obviously slightly larger than average. You shouldn't be surprised; it's always the guys that you'd least expect.

He crawls over you, left arm at the side of his head, while he uses his dick to nudge your panties to the side. "This still okay?"

Jungkook must be feeling the same, swearing under his breath and commenting about how tight you feel around him. Second by second, he coaxes himself into your pussy until you feel like you could split right open. "Are you all the way in?"

"No, can't take anymore?" He asks, leaning his head down against your ear.

You're embarrassed to admit he's too big to handle on your first time, but it's the truth. You don't want to overextend yourself just to please him and end up hurting yourself.

"You can move, just…not too much. Please."

Jungkook nods, "Whatever you want, angel."

"Close?" He asks, and you nod frantically.

Jungkook picks up his speed slightly, careful not to overwhelm you, but just enough to reach your climax, until finally, the bundle of nerves in your abdomen snaps, and your back is arching off the mattress as you come around his cock.

He's only a few seconds behind with his orgasm, erupting in a loud grunt when he finally reaches it. The two of you lay in silence for a moment before Jungkook finally pulls out of you and slides the condom off, tying it in a knot and tossing it into his trash bin.

"Are you okay?" He asks for what feels like the millionth time.

"I'm fine." You respond, and it isn't a lie. Physically, you feel terrific; mentally, it was an entirely different story. "Are you?"

"I'm good, I'm good."

As much as you would love to lay naked with Jungkook in his bed for the rest of the night, you know Somi will be home anytime soon. "I think I'm gonna go wash up."

He nods, crawling under his covers once you stand from his bed, tugging your skirt to its proper length as you search for your remaining clothing. "Oh, it's um…your shirt, it's over there." Jungkook awkwardly gestures towards a pile of clothing by the end of his bed.

Almost as quickly as you shred yourself of them, you snatch your clothing and bundle them up against your chest.

"Listen, I know right now isn't really ideal, but I meant what I said about liking you, and really think we should talk." He says nervously, barely even able to look at you.

You almost want to laugh at how cute he is; instead, you agree to talk to him about it soon. You're about to head out into the hallway when Jungkook reminds you about your charging phone over by his desk.

Now, you're no sex expert, but imagine that if Jungkook had finished, there'd be something to show for it in the condom. Right?

Did he fake his orgasm? Was this another one of his fucked up mind games you'd been subjected to?

You don't know what to think as you step into the bathroom; your emotions are all over the place, and all you really want to do is go home. But you promised Somi you'd be here when she returns, so you stay.

The next time a Jeon sibling asks if you're okay is twenty minutes later when Somi finally arrives and asks why your eyes are so watery.

"I'm fine." You respond, and you're lying for the first time that night.

#bts #bts imagines #bts smut #bts x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook imagine #jungkook scnenario #jungkook smut #kpop imagine #kpop smut #kpop scenario

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