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moon7jay · 2 months

Text

ㄴ CHERRY🍒 ㄱ : Lee Heeseung

pairing : pervert!heeseung x virgin!reader

cheeries to pop this semester : Y/N (Heeseung's pick)

Warnings : toxic heeseung, manipulation, coercion, morally gray characters, dub con, infidelity, angst, filthy smut, masturbation, voyeurism, exhibitionism, body image issues, body shaming, family issues (it gets heavy), unprotected sex, cum eating, violence, dacryphilia.

Wc : 23k+

a/n : IT'S FINALLY HERE OMG, this is my first full length fic on here and I really put my all into it, please reblog and leave feedbacks, it's really really important for me, I cherish all of your words so much<3

!!!!!!! READ PREVIEW FIRST !!!!!!!!

You're quite literally the most stuck up thing Heeseung has ever laid his eyes on. It’s the way you stick out like a sore thumb; Your ponytail is meticulously braided, the grandma skirt that you chose to wear cascades down, stopping just beneath your knees in a habitual fashion and your pressed pink silk blouse is impeccably buttoned up to the collar, not one inch of extra skin in sight.

The book clutched tightly against your chest ties your entire look of “austere sophistication” together.

"Microprocessors", the title reads. Pfft. Typical of you. Only you can clutch onto such a demonic book like it is some quality literature. Heeseung nearly fights the urge to scoff.

You're peak virgin demonstration if Heeseung’s ever seen one. Your embodiment of purity is unparalleled, and it feels like a personal attack on his masculinity that he hasn't been able to get you under him yet. Keyword : yet.

As he backs you up against the wall, your eyes downcast and your free hand nervously fiddling with the button of your blouse, he thinks you look pathetic. You exude an air of pitiful vulnerability, and it ignites a primal desire within him to consume you entirely.

You're nervous and it’s palpable. He can see it in the way you don't even meet his eyes, refusing to face him at all. The blush adorning the apple of your cheeks is adorable; fuck, you're cute. And Heeseung doesn't like cute things. But something about you makes you the exception to his usual preferences. Your innocence only provokes him more, acting as a catalyst, intensifying his desire to unleash all his darkest fantasies on your inexperienced body. He wants to explore you, peel off your layers and dive in deep like no one has ever done before. This need, this innate urge to taint you; it drives him absolutely feral.

"Did you watch the video I sent you last night?" he asks, unable to stop himself from leaning into your space, taking a deep whiff of your vanilla perfume. You even smell like a virgin. Fresh and untainted. And, oh so tempting.

Your head shakes meekly, but the discreet way you bite your lower lip tells him that you did watch it. Fuck yeah. He was high and horny when he recorded that nut video. Pressing send wasn’t on his agenda but his head was filled with the sinful thoughts of you and your pretty pink lips, and what better way to testify his desire to you than making you see how he looks in throes of pleasure, chanting your name like a literal dog in heat.

You yelp when his hand grabs your waist to pull you closer to himself. God, you feel good against him.

He nuzzles his nose into your warm cheek while your tiny fist makes contact with his chest "let-let go" you squeak out and it only makes him chuckle in amusement. You're so fucking cute.

"you liked it baby? Bet you liked how I stroked my dick nice and slow, just for you" He watches in glee as the red in your cheeks spreads all the way down to your neck. He loves how responsive you are, loves how even the littlest of words make you falter in front of him, like a frail flower caught in a sudden gust of wind. Then you look up, and Heeseung feels his breath leaving his chest, as if the air has been vacuumed from his lungs .Your big, captivating eyes meet his dark ones and he can't help but let his perverse curiosity take over his sick mind. He wonders how your pretty orbs look when you cry.

Scratch that. He wants to see you cry.

What makes this thought more unsettling is that fact that Heeseung isn't apposed to seeing you cry in pain. As long he gets to see your eyes brimming with tears , he cannot give less of a fuck about their source. He'll fuck you missionary, Heeseung decides, staring deep into your eyes while he slides deep inside your tight little pussy. His cock chubs up at the thought alone.

"you c-can''t send me stuff like that, it's inappropriate" you mumble shyly. He snickers and squeezes the fat of your waist, making another pathetic squeak to leave your mouth.

"What can I do darling, there's not one appropriate thought in my head when it comes to you. wanna do so many inappropriate things to you, you’ll let me won’t you?" He whisper asks, and watches how your eyes struggle to maintain eye contact before you succumb to your shyness, choosing to look down instead.

"Heeseung, man, it’s time to go " Jake's panicked voice interrupts the filthy words he was about to mutter in your ears again. He turns his head slightly towards the entrance of the hall and sees Jake's brown mop of hair, rustling right outside. Heeseung sighs and turns back to face you.

"Looks like we'll have to cut our fun short, you'll wait for my call tonight won't you baby? wanna hear your voice when I cum" He tells you, reveling in the way you only curl into yourself at his words, chewing your bottom lip raw. Fuck he wants to kiss the fuck out of you. But he can't. Not yet. Heeseung is aware of the boundaries he’s been crossing by touching you and sending you intimate stuff without your consent, and he doesn't want to push it, not so fast.He lets go of your body reluctantly and winks at you before making his way out of the hall. Jake's frantic eyes meet his once he's outside, and he rolls his eyes, already sensing an incoming lecture about morals and respect.

"I'm never gonna be your guard dog again, it's risky fucking business" Jake spits,brows furrowed in distress. Heeseung merely shakes his head at him "you won't get it" he mumbles as he walks ahead, leaving Jake to run to catch up to him

"Yeah, I don't see the fun in being suspended, but hey, maybe that's just me" Jake replies sarcastically ,making Heeseung give him “the” look. "Dramatic much?" He asks, rounding the corner to the cafeteria and making his way inside.

"I'm being dramatic? You're the one risking your reputation for some pussy, we can both be in jail for sexual harassment". Heeseung tunes out his friend's baseless rant and plops onto his designated seat. Jake slumps down right next to him.

"Man I'm just saying, that if she ever decides to go to the dean about this, your messages will be proof enough to land you in big trouble" Jake explains. “and me too because you drag me into every unethical thing like the good friend that you are” he adds, sarcasm dripping from his tone, and Heeseung wonders when Jake fell victim to the sassy men apocalypse.

But you won't, you love the chase as much as he does, he can see it in your eyes, Heeseung wants to say, but he doesn’t, choosing to stare at you instead. His eyes trace the movement of your figure when you enter the cafeteria sometime later. You're still hugging the book to your chest, making your way to the seat that's the farthest away from everyone else, as always. Your skirt makes his hands itch, he wants to know what lies underneath so fucking badly. He wonders if you know the effect that your modesty has on him, wonders if you know that your body being covered from head to toe gives more space for fantasy and yearning than any naked girl ever could.

"Stare any longer and your eyeballs might fall out of their sockets" Sunghoon’s berating voice brings his attention back to the table. He was so lost in you that he didn't notice sunghoon flopping down in the seat right across from him, shrugging his jacket off and throwing it unceremoniously on the table.

"She's gonna be the death of me" Heeseung bemoans, running an exasperated hand over his face. Sunghoon laughs and kicks his leg under the table.

"She already saw her name in that list that day, she knows what you want, and I don't think she'll let you anywhere near her anytime soon". Jake snorts, masking it with a cough when Heeseung shoots a glare in his direction.

He looks over at you again, finding the way you fiddle with your pen oddly erotic. He thinks he might be losing his goddamn mind, because the way he jerked off right after you angrily threw the “cherries to pop this semester” list on his face and stormed off , was shameful to say the least. That was the first time he had seen pure heat and raw emotion in your eyes, and damn you looked sexy as hell when you were angry.

"She won't be a virgin by the end of this semester, write it down" Heeseung challenges, meeting Sunghoon's eyes. His friend only shrugs in response and turns around to look at you over his shoulder.

"Sure, but by the looks of it, you won't be the one doing the honors" Jake snorts again , but Heeseung doesn't spare him a glance this time, his entire attention pivoted to the raven haired boy making his way over to your table. Heeseung doesn't like the way your eyes light up and you instantly sit up straighter in your seat, fixing your hair as if looking to impress. He scoffs. Loudly. Fucking park jongseong.

"Does she really find that dweeb attractive?" He can't help but ask, jaw clenching when he sees you blushing, genuinely blushing and smiling at someone who's not him.

"I dunno man, girls love that whole nerdy gentleman thing jay's got going on, some bullshit about being a green flag and all" Sunghoon supplies.

"They're friends too, lover boy's got game" Jake adds, smiling cheekily when Heeseung shoots him a dark look, yet again.

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You're in a trance like state when you walk back home. With the whole hall incident with Heeseung, and jay approaching you at lunch, today doesn’t seem real, as if belonging to a different reality altogether.

What you feel for Heeseung isn't something that you can describe in words. He.. He harasses you. He touches you and grabs you and gropes you, but within limits. His actions lie in a murky territory, perplexing the norms of acceptability, and yet, you only yearn more. does that make sense? Maybe it doesn't to normal people, but in your touch starved brain, it perfectly makes sense. Some days you hate him and some days you crave him, always oscillating between the extremes of loathing and longing. You suppose that's because he's been the only source of thrill amidst the barren landscape of your existence for a very long time. He excites you, he flusters you, but ignites flames beneath your breastbone with mere words. His gaze unnerves you and yet, you can't bring yourself to push him away. Some would call you crazy, and you won't have any convincing arguments to defend yourself.

You have been a little desperate all your life, desperate for someone to want you, desperate for someone to see you, a ceaseless yearning for recognition, for acknowledgement of your existence and you're not ashamed to admit it. After all, how far can you lie about the very thing etched into your bones and skin? And to what end?

More, more, more, the intense craving, an insatiable hunger for it defined your very being. You were an unattractive child and grew up into an even more unappealing adult , at least that's what your mother used to tell you before she eventually passed away. Her echoes of criticism resonated through your subconscious, shaping you as a mirror of her own insecurities.

That would explain why you can't meet your own eyes in the mirror, and crave attention like a drug, seeking solace in the fleeting attention Heeseung bestows upon you. He's akin to a drug that leaves you high and delusional for a while, intoxicating you with fleeting moments of desirability.

You aren't stupid though, you harbor no illusions regarding his intentions . You know what he wants from you, you are aware that you as a person don't mean a thing to him, he just wants to take your virginity and flaunt it around like a badge of peak male prowess or something, you're just another challenge to him, reduced to a mere conquest for his vanity. But you haven't felt like a person in so long, you don't think you are in any position to make demands.

When you've been parched long enough, when the thirst reaches fever pitch, threatening to push you over the verge of insanity; the yearning for satisfaction eclipses the rationality of self preservation. The moment of brief satiation held such a twisted appeal, that you were willing to embrace pain and self destruction if it came along with a fleeting sense of fulfillment. The need for validation clouds your judgement, and you become nothing but a mindless puppet of your desires.

That might also explain why your crush on park jongseong is still alive after being brutally rejected in the first semester. Jay and you had developed a friendship really quickly at the very beginning of college, but both of you had never really talked outside of the university hackathons and coding competitions. His knowledge was what drew you to him, and the way he was able to come up with solutions to the most complex problems while you were fighting for your life, it just left you with no choice but to watch him with heart eyes. He was always polite to you too, and what were you if not a sucker for gentle and soft spoken men.

He stopped talking to you after you confessed though, not completely because you still had to work on projects together, but conversations became more one sided and short, and so eventually, you just grew apart.

But ever since you got grouped together for the Cp techathon, he has started acting different; there’s so many lingering touches and subtle flirty glances that sometimes you’re sure you’re imagining everything in your head. Maybe you should get checked out for maladaptive daydreaming. Just a suggestion.

You're pulled out of your thoughts when you reach the curb of your house and don't see your dad's car parked inside. You breathe out a sigh of relief at the sight and proceed to make your way to your neighbor’s house. Suzy, your 60 year old neighbor, might be the only good thing going on for you. As you ring her door bell, you can't help but feel excited at the prospect of seeing your brother after an entirety of 2 whole weeks. Pitter patter of slippers approaches the door , and Suzy's wrinkled face greets you with a warm smile, as if she was already expecting you.

"Hi" you smile, and she motions behind her, at the loud chatter of your brother.

"Jihoon has not stopped asking for you for a second" She says , and you can't help but laugh as you make your way inside.

The four year old stops talking to his toys as soon as he sees you, his blue orbs staring at you for a whole minute in amazement, and then , as if snapping out of a trance, he sprints towards you at the speed of lightening. "Y/n! " he squeals.

You giggle when he tackles you with a hug, sighing in contentment at finally feeling him so close. You're hit with a sudden urge to cry, feeling his tiny arms wrap around your neck, being away from him never gets easy no matter how many times you have done it. You coo as he tells you how much he missed you, burying his tiny frame further into your chest. You press several kisses to his face and tell him you missed him just as much.

"Will you be taking him home today?" Suzy asks, coming over to sit down on the couch in front of you. You caress the back of jihoon's head, rocking him back and forth in your embrace, and meet her eyes, nodding a little. "Dad won't be home for a few weeks, hopefully, his car isn't there" you tell her. She nods in understanding and pats your arm, letting you know with her eyes, that she'll be here if you need her.

You're grateful for her, she's the only person you can entrust your little brother with when things start to get bad at home. On the days your dad decides to get shit faced and break everything in the house, succumbing to bouts of inebriation, you're grateful that you can keep jihoon away from the violence. You honestly don't know what you would do without Suzy, the only steadfast refuge from the chaos that is your life. In some way, you are aware that having jihoon over alleviates her loneliness too, fulfilling her own needs of companionship that she deeply craves in her old age.

Occasionally, you're hit with a wave of inevitable jealousy at jihoon’s sheltered innocence, wishing that someone had kept you away too; from the violence and the pain. But you guess you were meant to be the protector instead of the protected, healing your inner child every time you see jihoon smiling brighter than the sun. If you had to live through all the suffering again , just to preserve and shelter his infectious smile, you would do it in a heartbeat.

Suzy hands you a box of home made food when you make your way outside. "I promise to be back for you in a few hours sweetie, you will behave right?" you coo at jihoon's snotty, red nose as he clings onto your leg, begging you to take him with you. You sigh and watch in helplessness as Suzy picks him up in her arms, shushing him down so you can leave. It never gets easier.

Returning home, you dodge the broken pieces of glass and frames, quickly get out of your college attire, throwing on a pair of worn out jeans and a discolored top. There's still an hour for you to be at your part time job , and so you start cleaning the house instead. You don't know why you bother, to be honest, but there's an innate need that craves normalcy. When the house is clean, that means everything is going to be okay. Cleaning serves as a ritual of order amidst chaos, offering a sense of control amidst uncertainty.

Your shift at the cafe ends in a daze, countless customers come in and go out, some rude, some decent but you have learnt to take everything in a stride now. First month you had started working this job, you were a crying mess after the end of almost every shift, your sensitive little heart unable to comprehend why people were so rude. However, just like everything else in your life, you adapted to the demands of the job pretty quickly. As you stare at the now almost deserted cafe, save for a handful of students engrossed in their laptops, you pray that no one else comes in. Fatigue weighs heavily upon you, you’re exhausted out of your mind and just want to get out of here as soon as you can. Yet, as the familiar chime of the entrance bell resounds, signaling the arrival of yet another customer, you resign yourself to another interaction.

Your head snaps towards the door and your jaw quite literally falls to the floor. For as long as you have worked here, you've never run into any of your classmates. However, today out of all days, when you look like the wall mart version of the walking dead, park fucking jongseong is here. Because of course he is, your life has to be a social experiment.

You pull yourself together when you realize that he's smiling at you, and you aren't smiling back. "Hi" you squeak out, fairly sure that you sounded pathetic. He grins at your flustered state, and leans closer to you on the counter.

"Hi" He whispers back, your heart beating faster at the look he's giving you. You stare at his perfectly parted raven hairs and mentally pass out when he fiddles with his lip ring.

"Um-so- what can i get you?" You stutter out, finally coming to your senses and realizing that you have a job. His eyes travel down to your chest , and he leans further into your personal space, his expensive cologne filling up your senses.

"I'll take you" He replies smoothly.

"I-, what-you huh" you splutter, not quite trusting your own ears. There's no way Jay is flirting with you right now. The crush that you've harbored for the boy blooms in full glory as he continues to smile at you, a suggestive glint in his eyes. His smile is so damn pretty.

"I'm kidding pretty girl, I just saw you from across the street and thought I'd say hi, and ask if you need a ride back home" He explains. Your lips tug into a shy smile at the nickname, and you peek outside to see his gray Volkswagen parked across the street. Oh wow, Jay thinks you're pretty AND he wants to give you a ride back home. Why does that sound so familiar? You’re pretty sure you saw this same scenario playing out in one of your lovesick dreams last week.

"Oh-um- i don't wanna cause you any trouble" you mumble , hoping that he doesn't see the way your back is ramrod straight all of a sudden. You never really prepared yourself for the possibility of him , or anyone for that matter, wanting to drop you at your house. You're not ashamed of your neighborhood or the life that you live, but you despise the looks of judgement and pity more. You have managed to maintain this facade of a properly put together person for so long in college, and it has saved you so much mental torture that you know would ensue once everyone gets to know about your humble abode, and how your scholarship is the only reason you’re able to afford your college.

"come on sweetheart, would I really walk all the way across the street if I really didn't wanna see you?" He asks, fiddling with his lip ring again. If you didn't know any better, you would say he looks sort of nervous. But why would anyone be nervous of you. Of all people.

You nod meekly and mumble a quick "my shift gets over in 5 minutes", trying to wrap your head around the fact that Jay wanted to see you. HE wanted to see YOU. Jay winks at you and makes his way outside. You follow him with your eyes as he crosses the street and goes back inside his car, waiting for you.

HE'S WAITING FOR YOU. What on god’s green earth.

Seeing that there's only one customer left, you hurriedly make your way to the ladies toilet and wash your face, trying to get rid of the tiredness and grime off of it. What if he kisses you? Your own delusion makes you laugh. You do have some nerve at coming up with such insane scenarios in your head. He's just being nice, and here you are, hearing wedding bells.

You reapply your lip balm and take off the apron you were adorning over your tee. You look okay. Well. There's not much you can do in the current situation anyway. You do hope that he overlooks how unkempt you look compared to your college appearance. Should you untie your hairs? But, wouldn't that be too much? He just saw you with a ponytail... fuck it, it's like a once in a lifetime opportunity anyway. You untie your hairs and let them fall in cascades over your shoulders. This is better.

You clean up behind you and inform the remaining customer that it's closing time. Handing the keys to Ralph, the security guard, you quickly run across the street, not wanting to make him wait any longer. Jay opens the car door for you from the inside even before you can reach it.

"Hop in" He says, a grin in his voice and he doesn't have to ask you twice.

This might be the most expensive car you've ever had the opportunity to sit in. The leather is soft against your skin, and it smells of fresh citrus. Even his car smells good.

"So, Where to darling?" He asks, running his eyes all over you. You feel a little self conscious under his gaze but manage to utter your address nonetheless.

The entire ride is mostly silent with little conversation that he makes, asking you for directions. It isn't awkward, and you're so grateful for that.

"Is this it?" He asks, stopping his car in front of the building whose name you blurted instead of your real address.

You nod and thank him, ready to get out of the car when he grabs your wrist, pulling you into him. The middle console digs into your stomach but you honestly couldn't care less with the way his hot breath falls on your face.

Your cheeks are warm and you are sure that you represent a tomato with the way the heat only increases when he tucks your hairs behind your ear with his other hand.

And oh god, he's leaning in, his eyes fixed onto your lips as he inches closer and closer and-

As if on autopilot, You push him away. Your cheeks burn in embarrassment at how taken aback he looks by your sudden reaction.

"I-im sorry i- i don't-

"I thought you liked me" He says in a hostile tone, and you can hear the annoyance in his voice, can see the indignation in his eyes.

You can't believe you just pissed off your longtime crush because of your inability to be normal. How could you have fucked up so badly?

"I-i do, I do like you" You mumble quickly, trying to hold your tears at bay when he scoffs at your words. The shame weighs heavy on your chest as he stares at you a bit longer before looking forward towards the road.

"Goodnight y/n" He replies sharply, in the most coldest voice you have ever seen him use towards you.

Your lips quiver as you wrack your brain for something to say but you don't think you can say anything to fix this now. You've made a fool of yourself and embarrassed Jay all because you can't be fucking normal about anything.

He presses the horn aggressively, and you jump, mumbling apologies and scurrying out of his car hurriedly. Your ears burn in humiliation when he drives off without sparing a single glance towards you.

Well done y/n. Your habit of being self sabotaging never really will go away. You cry all the way back to your house, not understanding the abrupt downturn of promising events. It was going so well. He was going to kiss you. You were so close to having your first kiss.

You wipe your tears dry when you get close to your house. Jihoon is fast asleep in Suzy's arms when she hands him over to you. You thank her for her kindness and make your way to your house, cradling jihoon's sleeping form. When he cuddles into your neck, his innocent embrace evokes a flood of pent up tears; all that you've been pushing back today, comes flooding out. You can't help but wonder if you'll ever be able to sleep this carefree in someone's arms. If there's love meant for you,then you have never felt it once in your life, and you wonder if it's too late now.

You're crying when you tuck him tenderly into bed, crying when you leave a wet kiss on his forehead, caressing his soft cheeks. You're crying when you try to eat the food Suzy gave you in the afternoon, and you're crying when you rub off all the evidence of today from your body inside the shower. At one point, you aren’t even sure what you’re crying about.

Thankfully, when you come out of the shower, the tears have ceased. You embrace the numbness which spreads all over your body after a soul crushing sob session. It’s funny really, how quickly you seem to turn your emotions on and off like a flip switch, like they aren’t even real at all.

Once your emotions are out of the way, and jihoon is asleep, you can't help but relish in the feeling of your skin under your fingertips. You aren't particularly horny, you just want to feel better and sleep with an empty mind. Masturbation always seems to work.

You throw off your towel and crawl onto the bed, spreading your legs and rubbing small circles on your clit, trying to get yourself wet. You rub and rub, and whine when it starts to feel somewhat good. Still, it isn't good enough to get you soaked thoroughly, so that you can cum again and again to your heart's content.

You groan frustratedly and reach for your phone, feeling extremely ashamed when your finger hovers over heeseung's chats. Your pussy tingles in excitement when you read his lewd words, attached to the video he sent you yesterday.

"Gonna fuck you so good if you give me a chance baby, look how hard you make this dick"

You bite your lower lip and press play, rubbing your thighs together at the wet sounds coming from the video. His dick is so thick and girthy, curving upwards in excitement. His fingers look so long wrapped around his cock, you can’t help but squeeze your thighs at the thought of feeling them inside of you.

The way he moves his palm, up and down, up and down, moaning and groaning your name in pleasure, it has you writhing in no time. You will never admit it to heeseung, but he's the only person you ever think of while touching yourself. He turns you on beyond belief. He turns you on in a way that feels wrong. Almost Taboo.

You continue to rub your clit to the sight of him jerking off, hoping that you could see his face in the video too. You wonder what he looks like when he's feeling good. The thought alone is enough to have you dripping in no time. You throw your phone onto the bed, but before you can start fingering your leaking pussy, your phone rings, making you groan in annoyance.

You reach beside your head to pick it up and almost drop it on your face when you see heeseung's name flashing on your screen.

Fuck. What the fuck.

When he told you in college that he was gonna call, you really didn't think he actually will. But the phone is ringing and your body lights up in excitement. Is he really going to jerk off on call? Is he really that perverse?

Curiosity gets the better of you, and you swipe right, chewing on your lower lip as you press the phone against your ear.

"Hey baby, I didn't think you would pick up, missed me didn't ya? " His cocky voice blares through the speaker and you blush. How was he making you blush over the phone, get a fucking grip y/n.

He chuckles when you don't say anything, finding your silence cute.

"At least say a hi for me baby, so I can know that I'm not about to jerk off for your dad" His words make you wince, why was he so vulgar?

"Heeseung!" You whisper shout, trying to convey through your voice how scandalized you are.

"There she is, fuck pretty, you're gonna stay with me on call while I beat my meat for you yeah?" He grunts and you gasp, feeling violated by his language alone.

You rub your thighs and fiddle with your pebbled nipples "c-can you not use such words? " you ask quietly, hoping that he doesn't pick up on the silent whine that leaves your mouth right after.

You hear a little shuffling on the line and your face feels hot. So he really is getting ready to jerk off? What will he say if you tell him how wet you are for him right now?

Heeseung can't believe you haven't hung up on him yet. His dick getting harder and harder the more that he hears your cute fucking voice.

"Nah baby, I'm a nasty motherfucker, you should know that. If you ever let me fuck your cunt, I'll show you what real nasty sex feels like" He says, groaning when he hears you whimper at his words. Fuck. Why the fuck are you so fucking cute.

He hisses when he wraps his rough palm around his leaking prick, he hasn't even started jerking off yet and he's already leaking so much precum.

Heeseung doesn't like cute things, but fuck does he want to fuck into one, wants to pound your cute little pussy while you make those cute little sounds for him.

His ears perk up when he hears the wet squelching sounds coming through the speaker. Fuck. Fuck are you--?

"baby, are you touching yourself? I can hear your wet little cunt through the phone" He grunts, as if in pain.

The moan that you let out tells him all that he needs to know. And damn he's never been so fucking hard before.

"fuck yeah baby, fuck yourself with your tiny little fingers, make yourself feel real good for me" He groans, stroking his cock at a rapid pace, unable to stop himself from going feral. This is the first time that you have given him the taste of what it really could be like if he was buried in your wet snatch. It's driving him batshit crazy.

"H-heeseung" you mewl, making him fuck into his fist faster. God, you sound so sexy. The heat spreads all over his body, making him feel so damn good that he starts bucking up his hips into his hands.

"Y-yeah? Feels so good yeah , baby? Fuck, I wish It was my cock buried in you right now, I would pound you all fucking night -ugh fuckk" he grunts, panting as he feels the knot in his stomach tighten. He wants to cum so bad.

Your whines reach a fever pitch and the intensity of the wet squelch increases. God, the filthy sounds of your wetness as you play with your pussy, make his tongue loll out of his mouth. He needs to bury his face in your juices before he dies.

"g-gonna c-um im-ah" you moan, whining and panting as your orgasm gets closer.

Heeseung curses under his breath and jerks off furiously, squeezing his engorged dick head and hissing in pure pleasure.

"Oh yeah, cum all over my fucking cock baby, make a fucking mess, I'm gonna give you my cum too" He moans, thrusting up into his fist, again and again and again, chasing his high desperately. His palm is a wet, sticky mess of precum while he strokes his shaft to your whiny voice. You make him so fucking horny, the brutal way he's fisting his dick is a testament to that.

A loud moan on your end makes him cuss, his own eyes rolling back as he hears you cumming. So fucking cute, god you sound heavenly. His hips buck up into his fist a few more times before he's spurting thick strings of his cum all over his chest and palm. He plants his feet onto the bed, and thrusts up into his fist over and over to drain himself of all that he has to give.

Fucking hell, that was probably the best jerk off session of his life. Before he can tell you that, however, you hang up on him.

Heeseung chuckles in exhaustion and doesn't even bother cleaning his body, laying on the bed in pure sexual satiation.

You're so cute.

The events of yesterday hit you hard in the morning. Your eyes are swollen and red because of the crying session you had after masturbation. When the high of the orgasm wore off, everything else came back and it hurt like a bitch.

You can't believe you let heeseung talk you through your orgasm, you can't believe that he made you cum without touching you, and what you can't believe the most is how much you liked it.

Your mind drifts off to Jay, and a sudden shame fills you up again. No matter how hard you try, you're unable to forget the look of disappointment on his face, looking at you with so much annoyance etched onto the creases of his face, it almost reminded you of your mother.

Your gaze goes to the clock and you can't help but heave yourself out of the bed. As much as you'd like to stay and rot in extreme self pity, you don't have the option. Jihoon will be up soon, and you have a limited one hour stretch to make his lunch and get ready for college. You're not ready for the walk of shame to college, but being an academic weapon is your only achievement in life. You wonder what you would be if they take that away from you. Have you ever done anything else? Gone out, made friends? Got drunk at parties, had sleepovers? You haven't, you realize with a throbbing pain at the back of your head. It never was an option for you.

You take a shower and fix a quick breakfast for your brother and yourself, getting ready in your prim and proper attire, reverting back to your put together front.

Waking up jihoon is a work of lost art that you've mastered over the years, and so it's easy work. What isn't easy, however, is to convince him to let you go.

"Why can't you stayy" He whines, tears already filling up his big, brown eyes as he clings to your leg like always.

You kneel down to come face to face with him and quickly wipe his tears away "I'm going to bring back chocolates, you like them right?" you ask, cooing when he nods, his brows still furrowed in defiance.

"Then someone will have to go and bring them right? so be a good boy and let y/n go"

His little brows furrow further and he shakes his head again "suzy can go" He declares, and you can't help but be endeared. All the time that you stay away from him, you'd started to believe that he'll develop more of an attachment with suzy and eventually forget you. But these little things, these are the things that keep you going.

You plant a big kiss on his puffy cheeks and he's back to grinning in no time, giggling as you tackle him in your arms.

"Just a few more hours baby, I'll be back and we'll play together, I promise" you assure the little boy and his eyes shine at your words, "swings! at the park!" He exclaims, as if remembering the most important treasure of his life. You nuzzle his nose with your own and intertwine your pinky with his tiny one in a promise. It's so easy to make him happy, your perfect little baby.

You pepper jihoon with a few more kisses before dropping him off at Suzy's.

Your heart tugs when he starts to cry for you again, but this is your life, you suppose.

You keep your head down the entire way to class, lest you run into Jay and embarrass yourself again. Luckily for you, Jay isn't in his designated seat in the automata class, and you can’t help but breath a sigh of relief.

The relief is tremendously short lived tho, because Lee Heeseung is sprawled on the seat right next to yours in his full glory.

Your cheeks turn red when your eyes meet his cocky ones. He smirks and raises a suggestive brow when you don't make a move to come any closer.

"Do you plan to stand for the entirety of this two hour lecture baby?" He asks, suckling on the pop sickle that he always seems to have somehow. You quickly scan the seats around you, deciding fuck it, and plop onto jay's seat instead. There's no way you will be able to spend two whole hours under Heeseung's lecherous gaze. After last night, you have no idea how to face him. Even on normal days he leaves you extremely flustered and a clumsy mess.

You can feel his gaze burning holes at the back of your head for the entire duration of the lecture. Sometime in the middle of the lesson, a crumpled paper hits the back of your head. You turn around, shooting heeseung an annoyed look. At least you try to look annoyed. The blush is still prominent on your cheekbones so you can only imagine what you look like to him.

He motions his head towards the ball of paper lying near your feet. As much as you want to ignore his shenanigans and focus on the lecture, curiosity always gets the best of you.

You unfold it quickly, tucking it inside your book so that nobody else can catch the words scribbled on it.

"Wait for me in the janitor's closet"

You shoot a defying look towards heeseung and crumple the paper back to land it near his jordans. It's equivalent to you saying "I won't"

Heeseung only grins at you, shooting a wink in your direction, as if to reply

"I know you will"

He has some audacity, you think, as you make your way to the janitor's closet after class. A slave to your desires, you suppose.

A part of you is nervous and ashamed when his 6 feet tall figure enters the limited space of the closet, caging you against the wall. However, the other part of you, the desperate part of you , preens in the attention, almost feeling a sick pride in the fact that you made him cum too. And maybe even harder, if the way he was moaning last night was anything to go by.

His large hands circle your waist , and your breath hitches in your throat when he pulls you closer to himself, his nose touching yours while his hot breaths warm your mouth.

"have sex with me" He says, leaving you speechless, yet again. It's not that he hasn't said those exact same words and even worse things to you before. It's the bluntness that never fails to take you by surprise.

You shake your head, trying to push yourself out of his grasp. He's stubborn tho, and so damn strong, his hold like an iron grip around your body.

"Cmon- he groans in frustration- you can have sex with me on the phone but not in person, how is that fucking fair? "

You whimper when he squeezes the fat of your waist harshly, as if branding your body in his hold. You aren't used to being touched so wantonly, and it makes a sick shiver run down the length of your spine.

"W-we did not have s-sex" you splutter, staring right back into his orbs. His heavy lidded eyes travel down to your lips and he leans in, making you gasp loudly when his pink tongue comes out to taste your lower lip, licking it tentatively. Almost experimental in how he runs it all over your lower plump lip. He pulls away before he can steal your first kiss, and you'd be lying if you said you didn't feel somewhat disappointed.

"Yes we did have sex. Your tight little pussy came for my fucking cock while you were moaning my name" He supplies cockily, his words sending a wave of heat rushing down between your legs.

He buries his nose in the crook of your neck and presses his body flush into yours, grinding the proof of his desire against your leg.

"Look what you do to me, fuck baby, if you won't let me fuck your cunt, at least take responsibility for your own actions" He grunts into your skin and you can't help the pathetic moan that leaves your mouth.

"H-how" you ask, feeling yourself getting wetter the more that he humps your leg.

Heeseung doesn't reply to you, instead, takes your hand that's clutching his shoulder and presses it against his hard on instead.

"fuck yeahhh" He hisses, apparently craving your touch like a drug.

you're sure your face can't get any redder than this. If it wasn't for his tight hold on your body, your knees would have buckled and given up a while ago. The feeling of a dick underneath your palm is foreign but so arousing, the fact that you did this to him. He’s hard for You.

"Come on baby, squeeze it like you mean it, make me feel fucking good" He hisses, groaning into your neck when you squeeze him softly. The hardness in his jeans seems to get thicker and thicker, it fascinates you.

He ruts his hips into your palm, desperately,trying to chase the delicious friction while he pants into your soft flesh.

"Fuck, it's not enough" He curses, pulling back from you to unbuckle himself.

You bite into your lower lip in arousal and squeeze your thighs to alleviate some of the pressure you feel between your legs.

He looks up into your eyes, licking on his lips as he plays with the band of his boxer briefs. He watches in amusement, the way that your eyes can't seem to focus on one single thing, jumping from here to there, so nervous,so pretty and . God, you're cute.

He takes your hand in his own again and slips it inside his boxers, covering your palm with his own while he uses your soft hand to jerk himself off.

The hot and heavy feel of his leaking length has you whining. That only makes him chuckle and groan. "Mhmmn baby that feels so good"

The wet and messy way in which he uses your palm to stroke his length up and down, it's addicting, your palm feels soft and his whole body shivers when he sees how desperately you're squirming, your eyes wide and glossy. He wants to fucking ruin you.

He presses his body further into yours, taking your earlobe into his mouth, small whimpers falling from his mouth while his movements get faster. Your palm is slick with his precum, it should gross you out but everything is so hot and heavy in the small space.

"Are you wet? Just from feeling my dick? Desperate little thing aren't you? " He muses. You shake your head meekly, averting your gaze from his sweaty face and looking down to observe the rapid movements of your combined hands inside his boxers.

"M'not wet" you mewl, eliciting a mocking laugh from the boy. He trails his kisses down the tempting length of your neck, the touch so sensual, it leaves you gasping.

"I can feel your pretty little body squirming against me you know, makes me wanna force my dick inside you, where will you run if I do? " he asks, biting your collarbone when the slide of his dick gets wetter and squelchier.

His words, instead of scaring you, make an inexplicable heat to ignite your insides. You want him to, you can't believe how bad you want him to act on his desires because you know you don't have the courage to act on your own.

"f-fuck, pretty, moan for me baby, wanna hear you when I cum" He sighs into your neck, nipping at your skin and planting kisses in between his moans.

Hearing his words make you keen and he curses under his breath. The hold of his palm is brutal, your hand hurts but God does it feel good to hear him so desperate and needy, whining so hotly in your ear.

"fuck I'm so close so -ugh god-" His voice fades into a delicious moan and you can feel yourself dripping, your juices running down the length your thighs.

You don't hold back on your sounds, letting small whimpers leave your mouth when he digs his teeth into your skin again.

"Why won't you let me fuck you baby, wanna be the first to get inside your virgin little pussy so bad" He pants, supporting himself with a hand planted beside your head on the wall while he continues to masturbate using your flesh.

It's exhilarating, it's hot, and it's so scandalous.

"H-heeseung! " You moan when he lathers the skin of your neck with his saliva, tasting your skin like his life depends on it.

"Sh-shit" He stutters, the lewd way you cry out his name make his eyes roll back to the back of his head. You gasp when you feel his hot length twitching repeatedly, warm, thick liquid covering your entire palm along with his own.

His hips stutter a few more times inside your hold before stilling, a large sigh of satisfaction leaving his lips.

"Fucking hell baby, you always make me cum so hard" He whispers, chuckling to himself.

He pulls your hand out of his boxers and wipes his hand off on his jeans, while you watch in silence with face turning crimson. He dresses himself and winks at you before walking out of the closet, leaving you standing there with your palm covered in his sticky, gooey cum.

You feel used, but at least you’re useful for something.

To say that you are sick of yourself would be an understatement. You feel violated, but some sick part of you enjoys being desired so wantonly. It turns you on. Heeseung doesn't love you, scratch that, he doesn't even like you but here you are, letting him use your body like some mindless sex toy anytime he damn well pleases. You wonder what that says about you. Sure, he's a jerk, but what are you?

You're lost in thoughts, walking home when a loud honk makes you jump on the sidewalk. You turn towards the car honking at you and come to a halt, facing the very familiar Volkswagen.

There’s no way.

"Come on sweetheart, get inside" Jay grins at you from the inside of his car. You blink at a him a couple of time to really make sure that he's here. After the complete fiasco last night, you really weren't expecting to hear from him so fast. Or at all for that matter.

Nonetheless, he is here, and he's asking you to get inside his car. With your eyes downcast, you crawl towards it and slip inside the passenger seat, playing with your fingers while you avoid looking at him at all costs. He doesn't start the car, but you can feel the weight of his gaze on the side of your face.

"I'm sorry about last night" He begins, and you can't help but look up at him astonished. Why was he sorry? You were the one who royally fucked up.

He smiles at you apologetically and reaches out a hand to caresses your cheek by the back of it. If you weren't mentally screaming, you're sure you would have said something, and assured him that he has nothing to be sorry about.

"I just, I shouldn't have tried to kiss you so fast, at least not without taking you on a date first. it's just that we've been friends for so long, and we both like each other, so it just seemed like the right thing to do" He explains, remorse dripping from his tone. You start to node your head in support of his sentiments when his words click inside your brain.

Wait.

"Y-you like me?" You blurt, cheeks flaming when his gaze falls to your mouth and he traces your bottom lip with his thumb.

"So much that i forgot how to behave" He mutters in a trance, all his attention focused on fiddling with your plump and fleshy lower lip.

You blush at his words and avert your gaze back down to your lap, and he pulls his hand back. You want to whine at the loss of contact, enjoying too much being caressed so softly. When was the last time you were touched so gently?

"Before I try to kiss you again, because I will, you're too pretty to resist- he chuckles, and you try to bite back the smile that's threatening to break free on your face- would you like to go on an aquarium date with me? A little birdy told me that is your dream date" He grins at you, wiggling his eyebrows when you look into his kind eyes, and you let your giggles take over your body. The fact that he remembers your random rant from months ago shoots a giddy feeling through your heart. It feels good being remembered.

"How about tomorrow? Skip college and let me take you out? " He suggests and you nod rapidly, almost detaching your neck from its socket. Jay only laughs at you endearingly, and it makes you blush even more.

He drops you off at the same building as last night again, and both of you are grinning from ear to ear when he drives off. You're sure you catch a few stray looks from the passerbys when they see you beaming and giggling like an idiot as you walk back home with an obvious skip in your step. It’s ridiculous, really, but it feels good to have something to look forward to in a very long time.

You sigh loudly when you remember the promise you made to jihoon this morning. You're mentally calculating the time you have prior to when you need to be at the cafe, when Suzy's door opens before you can even knock on it, and out comes your little brother, bounding, and giggling in a high pitched scream.

You squat down to catch him in your arms before he can collide with your legs.

"Looks like someone missed me" You giggle, hugging the little life close to your body, sighing upon inhaling the familiar scent of his baby powder.

"Missed yew" He mumbles into your throat, his little hands wrapped around your neck, and you can’t help but coo at him in adoration. "Missed you too my baby, y/n loves you so much"

"He has been so excited the entire day, he wouldn't even eat until I told him you'll be mad if he didn't" Suzy tells you, coming out of her house with jihoon's water bottle in her hand. You laugh at her words, and pick your brother up in your arms while he continues to nuzzle into you.

"I'll take him to the park for a bit, I have about an hour before my shift starts" You inform her and she nods at you, running her experienced warm eyes over your face.

"You look happy darling" She notes and you can't help the blush that dusts your cheeks at her words. She apparently notices , cooing at how shy you are all of a sudden.

"is it a boy y/n, yes or no?" She asks, a teasing lilt in her voice and you bite your lower lip, nodding in a giddy manner.

"It is, I have a date tomorrow" you admit, unable to conceal the excitement in your voice. She gasps and pats your head "what a fortunate man he'll be to have someone as amazing as you darling" She whispers, pure emotion shining in her eyes.

You swallow the lump forming in your throat at her words, averting your gaze and mumbling a small thank you. No, you refuse to cry today, you had your fill of indulging in your emotions yesterday.

So, you push her words to the recess of your mind, where you securely encase them in a metaphorical box, stacking it up on a bunch of age old boxes. Emotions that you adamantly refused to confront and deal with, a stance that you still maintain.

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As you sit staring at your wardrobe, a sense of urgency washes over you and you come to two stark realizations.

Firstly, you need to buy more clothes. The sparse collection of garments hanging before you testified to this necessity.

Secondly, and perhaps more pressing, was the acute awareness that none of what you have is remotely suitable for a date.

Jay is supposed to pick you up in a mere hour and you don't have anything to wear. Well, there's a blue halter neck dress that you wore for freshmen party in your first year, which you're sure doesn't fit you now. There's 3 silk pressed shirts which you alternate at your college, a handful of skirts and a scattering of sweaters.

And that's it.

You're about to cry when you feel a wave of panic rising within you. You’re o utterly unprepared for this moment.

As the crushing clarity threatens to overwhelm you, a pang of longing sweeps through you. You wish you had a girlfriend. It's not like you don't have friends, you talk to several people in school, be it for work or just casual chatting , but that's about it. Your relations with other people end as soon as you step out of your university building. Of course, you know that it's your own fault that you don't have anyone in your life, you never really put in the effort to keep up with someone, a casualty of your own reluctance to invest in deeper connections.

Whenever someone tries to delve deeper into your life, you just push back, and you push back hard. You are too consumed with your own life, you suppose. It's not that you have never had any friends either, you have had quite a lot, in fact, you even had a best friend in middle school. Time really changed you as a person though, its not to say that she didn't change either, time changes everyone, but your change had been tangible. You just let everyone go, choosing to stay in your own miserable bubble, blocking all attempts of reaching out or any support that you so desperately needed. Each flicker of friendship extinguished, each bond severed, bore the weight of your own self imposed isolation. You did this to yourself, you weren't a victim of circumstances no matter how much self pity you reserve for yourself. You were the architect of your own solitude, barricading yourself within the confines of your melancholic safety. You tell yourself that it’s better this way, that you don’t need anyone, but how long can you fool yourself?

The halter dress is the only option left for you it seems.

The dress is not tight, but anyone looking at it can tell that it's not made to fit your body either. It's not revealing, but you can't call it modest either, at least by your standards, you don't think you've ever shown so much skin before. The blue one piece ends smack in the middle of your thighs, your chest is covered for the most part, and the long sleeves cover up your arms. If it's not for the unfamiliar sight of your bare legs, everything looks quite normal, you don't look hideous so that's a relief.

You opt for leaving your hairs open, because last time you did that, Jay tried to kiss you.

You wait for Jay at the entrance of your false residence. If he finds it odd that you're already outside, he doesn't comment on it, and you're grateful for that.

"Wow" Jay says as soon as you enter his car “ you look so hot”, making your ears turn bright red.

"T-thank you" you mumble, trying not to be bothered by how blatantly he is ogling at your exposed thighs, or how his eyes linger due to your dress riding upwards when you sit down.

You both make casual conversation during the drive, and it's comfortable, the casual back and forth just like old friends. You can get used to this, you tell yourself.

The aquarium that he takes you to is bigger than your entire university building, so pretty and so enchanting, you almost lose track of time. Ever since you were little, you have dreamed of visiting one, you remember writing the same in one of your introductory papers in second semester, a paper that was discussed in class as well. How jay managed to remember that is beyond you tho. Throughout the date, he keeps you updated on every thing that you come across, and it feels good to have his attention completely focused on you. You almost combust when he takes you to a restaurant after the aquarium date, thoroughly flabbergasted because you've never been on a date before.

The experience is something you will never forget, your first date, the thought makes you feel ecstatic, the wide smile on your face which refuses to go away is a testament to that.

Turns out, your first kiss happens in the same night as well. As soon as Jay parks his car outside your trademark building, he's all over you. He doesn't ask you, he just leans over to you and smashes his lips against yours, tasting your hot mouth eagerly. You don't know what you're doing, your hands are placed awkwardly over his chest while you try to move your lips against his, mimicking his movements to the best of your ability. He doesn't seem bothered by your lack of skills tho, just diving into your mouth with his tongue, one hand cupping your face while with the other, he gropes your thighs.

You push back your discomfort and revel in the feeling of his touch, gasping when he bites into your lower lip. He tastes like the wine you drank at the restaurant and you wonder if you taste the same to him.

The kiss ends too soon for your liking, but, the feeling of his dark eyes and rough hands running all over the length of your body shamelessly, follows you back home.

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You ignore heeseung's calls for the next few days, almost contemplating blocking his number once and for all, but for some reason, you can’t bring yourself to do it.

Your dates with Jay continue, and you do manage to buy yourself a new dress. You’re doing well for your first relationship, if you can even call it that.

Even though Jay does seem to love kissing you, never in a million did you ever think that you'd find yourself in such a compromising position. However, here you are, sitting on Jay's lap in the middle of class while he eats your face. Yes, he's actually devouring your mouth, tongue buried so deep into your throat that the feeling has you arching your body into him.

What makes the experience more thrilling is the audience you have. Your classmates had collectively gasped when Jay pulled you onto his lap seemingly out of nowhere. But, it isn't them that you are worried about. It's the boy at the back of the class with a perfect scowl etched onto his handsome face as he watches you make out with someone that's not him.

Heeseung looks livid and you wonder why. Is he upset because he thinks you aren't a virgin anymore?

Jay lets you go with a smirk when the professor announces his presence, and you rush to your seat that's right in front of the scowling boy, in a daze. It's actually amazing how he ignores you the entire lecture, something that has never happened before. what's more unsettling is the fact that you are mildly disappointed by that.

You want to ask him what he's upset about, but you aren't able to gather the courage to. As much as heeseung's a constant itch at the back of your head, you remind yourself that you're dating Jay now, so you can't be thinking about other men.

You're dating Jay now. You're dating Jay. You're dating.

None of those sentences sound real to you.

However, the giddy feeling inside your chest dwindles as Jay gets more and more touchy throughout the entire day. You can't tell if it's normal to grope your chest just a few days after you had your first kiss, but you don't want to make him upset again. You don’t like seeing him angry. Besides, isn't this what you always wanted? Someone to want you, someone to love you?

And haven't you let Heeseung do worse things to you anyway? Why haven't you ever felt such discomfort when Heeseung used your body to get himself off? . But the truth is, has Heeseung ever touched you this way? Sure he sends you inappropriate messages that are borderline harassment, sure he used your hand to jerk himself off once, sure he wants your virginity and he has made his intentions clear, but has he ever ventured beneath your clothes before?

He has never groped your body before, not like Jay is doing. Now that you think about it, heeseung has never even kissed you before. Your mind makes countless comparisons between Heeseung and Jay, and you wonder why you do that to yourself. Were you really comparing the guy whose whole purpose of pursuing you was to pop your cherry and wear it like a symbol of achievement, to the boy that likes you and took you to your dream date?

A gasp leaves your throat when jay grabs your ass, smacking it and making you yelp between harsh kisses. You're glad you're in his car and not outside, glad that people aren't there to witness you being touched like this.

"You're so pretty" He whispers in your ear, and so you latch onto his words and overlook his actions.

Now that you have someone who likes you back, do you really want to push him away? Do you want to let your useless self doubt and trust issues stop you from living your life yet again? No.

Thus, you push your discomfort to the back of your mind when his hand travels under your skirt at one point.

"It's normal y/n, don't make a fool of yourself" you chant in your head, trying to enjoy the feeling of being wanted.

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“We never really talk.... There's so much we still don't know about each other" your voice is meek, feeling hesitant to say your thoughts out loud in case you end up upsetting jay; which you seem to be doing a lot, to be honest.

The said boy groans from the seat in front of you where he's busy on his phone, completely facing away from you.

"We know plenty" He quips, not even sparing you a glance, and you bite your lower lip to stop yourself from thinking too much about it. Maybe he just isn't in the mood today? But again, when is he ever in a mood?

All you do is make out, and when things get heated, you always pull away. Then he gets agitated, and doesn't talk to you for days. It fucks with your head, but you go along, and even though you don't feel comfortable, you start letting him touch you more, and even though your body is taut with tension, he never seems to care.

You want to tell him about your brother, want to share the little things you do together and the things that make you happy. You want to ask what his favorite color is.

However, the opportunity never seems to come.

Your mind drifts off to heeseung, and the little notes he used to throw at the back of your head during last semester.

"Do you like roses or lilies?"

"Do you sleep on your stomach or side? "

"Are you going to the town fair?"

You remember ignoring him back then, but now your heart constricts. Even if he was just trying to bother you, those questions were probably the only time someone had tried to get to know you. You don't know what it is about heeseung, but everybody just looks at you, he's the only one who has ever made you feel seen. Maybe in another universe you would push aside your shyness and answer those notes. Maybe in another universe you would throw some notes back at him, asking things that you wanna know.

"I like tulips... But lilies are good too"

"I sleep on my back, sleeping in any other position makes me sore, I don't know why tho"

"I'm not going to the town fair, I have to stay home with my brother, he's really small"

But it's too late now, and you swallow down your words, squash the need to talk to someone, and resort to the heavy silence that is your life.

Heeseung is about to fly off the handle. The sight of you in another man's arms shouldn't bother him this much and yet, it does. The fact that you're ignoring his calls and messages makes him feel slightly insane. It shouldn't be like this. You are just a bet. A pick. Just another name on the list.

Then why the fuck is he this close to smashing jay's annoying face in. It isn't even about your virginity anymore, and that's what bothers him the most.

He hates it, hates that he's so affected by you, but he should have seen it coming,to be honest. With the way he stays up late just to jerk off to your pretty face, no girl has ever drove him this close to insanity before. The lust he feels for you is blinding and all consuming. It burns him, the desire he feels for you scorches him from the inside. It unsettles him how badly you’ve managed to turn him into a slave to your big, doe eyes.

Therefore, when he catches you alone in the classroom after three whole weeks of you ignoring his presence, he just can't help himself. It’s unfair how fucking pretty you look standing near the white board, scribbling something down onto your notebook while trying to setup the projector for your presentation later.

The sound of the classroom door being shut makes you jump, but the reason makes cold dread run inside your chest. Heeseung looks like a predator as he advances on your figure, eyes dark in lust and the vein in his neck throbbing with anger. His hands itch with the desire to touch you, it's been way too long for his liking since he last felt you close.

Before you can say anything or do anything, he's on you. The feeling of his lips against yours is electrifying,it feels like your entire body comes alive at the contact. His kiss is surprisingly slow and more bruising than you've ever been kissed before. His hands wrap around your waist and he pulls you closer to himself, tilting his head to trace your lower lip with his tongue, waiting for you to let him in.

You should push him away but you don't. You can't. Your head is dizzy with a passion you've only ever felt with him, your arms wrapping around his neck as you push yourself closer to his firm body, opening your mouth and letting him tangle his tongue with yours. The moan that leaves your mouth at the feeling makes his slacks tighten, his dick hard and throbbing inside his trousers.

You taste so fucking addicting, Heeseung doesn't wanna stop kissing and tasting your warm mouth.

When he pulls away to breathe, you're both panting heavily, his forehead resting against yours, dark eyes staring into your soul.

"I don't like when someone ignores me y/n" He growls, his voice sharp and hoarse from desire. The feeling of his hard on digging into your stomach makes you squirm.

"I - I have a boyfriend, I shouldn't be talking to you" You manage to let out, biting back another moan when he grinds a bit into you.

Heeseung feels hot rage flash across his chest at your words.

"Oh yeah? He got his dick inside you yet?" He asks, his words making you blanch. How was he always so vulgar?

"That's, that's none of your business" You splutter, looking anywhere but his eyes.

His hold tightens around your waist and he continues to grind his hard on against your soft flesh.

"I'll take that as a no, fuck, still a virgin aren't you baby?" he guesses.

You avoid looking at him and it only spurs him on further, his hold tightens around your body the more that you try to maintain some space.

"What a loser, if I was him, I would have buried myself into that tight little cunt of yours on the first night of our date" He whispers, and for some reason, his words excite you instead of disgusting you. A sick tingle runs down your spine and throbs between your legs.

"H-he's not like you" You quip, looking up into his eyes to get your point across "he doesn't want me for my body, he loves me for me"

Your words seem to make him angry, if the slight clench of his jaw is anything to go by.

He stops moving against you and scoffs.

"Loves you? What do you know about being loved y/n? "

His tone is mocking, and eyes full of unfiltered rage, the words spoken with an intention to hurt. And hurt, they do. You wonder how he knows the exact place to strike to make pain ricochet so wildly inside your ribs.

What do you know about being loved? Nothing, you suppose. How do you recognize love if you have never seen it before? or do you just accept everything that comes to you as love because you don't have any option to? do you just cling onto every act of kindness because of how much you want it to be love?

What do you know about being loved indeed.

Seeing your face fall makes heeseung regret his words almost instantly, the sight of your big eyes blinking up at him so solemnly makes his heart twist uncomfortably. What the fuck?

Before he can apologize, however, your small hands slide down to push against his chest, and he lets you go. He doesn't stop you when you collect your assignment that you'd been working on when he barged in, your gaze downcast and shoulders slumped as if heavy from the weight of his words.

The urge to pull you into his arms hits him as he watches you leave, but he's too much of a coward for that.

Because no matter how much he wants himself to believe it,

You aren't just a name on the list, you never have been.

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The atmosphere feels different today. You took a day off from college just to spend time with Jay, and although it makes you feel guilty that you left jihoon with suzy for the entire day, you can't help but be selfish for once.

All of this feels like a fever dream and you want to enjoy it before your alarm rings and you’re thrust back into the harsh reality once again.

Jay took you back to the aquarium, then you both went to the beach that his dad owned, and you were having so much fun that you just couldn't say no when he asked you to stay the night at his place. "No funny business" He assured.

But that didn't last long.

You whined into his mouth as his rough palms travelled beneath your silky sundress, sundress that he bought for you. "The yellow really suits your skin, wanna kiss you stupid" He had said, leaving you a flustered mess.

"I'm gonna take this off baby" Jay whispers into your mouth, sitting back up and sliding your dress up your legs without waiting for your answer.

You squirm in anxiety and embarrassment when he exposes your panties to his curious eyes. You want to cover yourself, you want to hide, but his firm hold on your waist keeps you down and under his mercy.

He slides your dress further up your stomach and then it happens. Your worst nightmare comes true. His eye brows furrow and you watch in dread as his entire face shuts down.

"Let's turn the lights off" He says, and you don't know what's worse, the way he eyes your body in distaste , or the way he pulls your dress down to cover you up.

"Why? " You manage to ask, swallowing the lump forming in your throat. You know why, you just want to hear it. You want to hear him say it so that your illusion can shatter once and for all.

Jay looks away and sighs, his jaw ticking in frustration "because that's how I like to have sex" He replies, his tone smooth, but you are anything but stupid.

You sit up and bite on your wobbly lower lip, smoothing down your dress on your thighs with shaky hands.

"You don’t like what you saw" You whisper, barely audible, but he hears you alright. His nostrils flare as he finally turns to face you, looking angry and terrifying.

"Do you have to be so damn difficult all the fucking time you stupid bitch? I'm trying not to be mean but you wanna hear how much your body's turning me off to your face? " He grits, hands coming down to grab your thighs and spreading your legs open. A sob escapes your lips at his words and you hit his chest to push him away

"I w-want to go home" You cry, sobbing more when he grunts in anger and slaps your face, pinning you down by your throat while he pushes you down onto your back, and straddles your thighs.

"Wasted so much of my fucking time on you, and now you want to go home? Right when I'm this close to being the first one who's gonna scratch your name off the list? "

Your heart stops at the implication of his words, pure disgust and terror runs through your veins.Your eyes fill up with more tears and you start using your full body strength, squirming and flailing, somehow managing to hit him in the shins with your knee. He howls in pain and rolls off of you , cussing you out.

"Fucking bitch" He growls, but you don't stay or look back, grabbing your phone and running as fast as you can. You hear his footsteps chasing you, but the adrenaline pushes you forward even though your vision is blurry with how much you're crying.

How you managed to open his house's main gate is beyond you, but once you are out in the open, the night air hitting your wet cheeks, that's when you come to a halt. You don't know how far or how long you ran, you don't see any people around, just luxurious houses standing tall, and it makes you sob more. You don't see Jay chasing you down the road so that calms your heart a little, but soon, the gravity of your situation sinks in. You almost got raped.

The thought makes your knees wobble and you unceremoniously collapse onto the sidewalk, your back resting against a cold metal pole. Your hands shake and sobs wrack your entire body, feeling intense pain coursing through your bones.

You were jay's pick too. How could you have been so blind to the signs? Him approaching you out of the blue, just a few weeks after the list got released . if you weren't blinded by your stupid feelings, you would have seen it as clear as day. He wanted your virginity. Just like Heeseung.

He didn't like you as you had deluded yourself into thinking.

The disgust on his face when he saw the stretch marks littering the lining of your stomach, it was so palpable it made you flinch.

Was he going to fuck you just for the sake of winning the game? Is your virginity really all that? But who are you kidding, all this time, you have held onto your virginity so desperately because you know that it's the only thing that makes you desirable, doesn't it? It's the only reason Heeseung wants you, it's the only reason Jay pursued you, what even are you without your virginity? Once you lose it, you'll fade into the background again.

No more delusions. Just plain, cruel reality.

The hurt you feel is something that you brought upon yourself. Did you not know yourself? How could you ever, even for a second, expect someone to love this version of you? When even you can't look at your body without disgust, why did you expect Jay to?

As your sobs quite down and turn into small sniffles, you dial Heeseung's number and let your phone ring. This is it, you think to yourself, heart oddly calm when he picks up on the second ring.

"Hey sweetheart, this is the first time you have called me on y-

"Do you still want to fuck me? " You ask, your voice hoarse and monotonous.

You hear a sudden clatter of something falling down on the other end of the line, like he dropped something, taken off guard by the suddenness of your question.

"I-yeah-i mean what? are you okay baby? " He splutters, and your head throbs, you look around yourself and don't even recognize where you are.

"can you pick me up? I know it's late, but i think I'm lost, you can fuck me as payment, I'm still a virgin" You explain. And somehow, hearing you talk about yourself like a commodity rubs Heeseung the wrong way. What's going on with you? You don't even sound like the y/n he knows.

"Where are you baby? " He asks, and if you didn't know any better, you would say that he sounds concerned.

"I don't know.. there's a beach nearby.... and the area looks expensive, but i can't tell what street-

"send me your location from the maps baby, I'll be right there, just stay where you are " He warns before hanging up.

You want to smack your head against concrete, so much for being an academic weapon, why didn't you think about sharing your location before.

You rub your bare arms to keep yourself warm. Apparently, the dress isn't as warm against the night cold as it seemed to be inside the warmth of the house.

Somehow, this decision feels right. Heeseung has been the only person who has been honest about his intentions with you from the very beginning. Although it was the exact same thing that Jay wanted, but still, it feels right to let Heeseung take your virginity instead of anybody else. You want this miserable fallacy of want and desire to end. And for that, you are going to give away the only thing that makes you special. Sounds like a perfect plan to you.

After what seems like an eternity, a blue Toyota stops right in front of you.

You don't even glance at it twice, just staring blankly at your feet, until you hear the driver's door open, and shoes come into your line of vision. You don't even have a chance to look up before heeseung's gathering you into his arms

"Holy fuck you're freezing baby" He exclaims, picking up your numb body as you cling onto him for life, you can barely feel your legs. Heeseung lays you down in the back seat, and instantly turns the heater on. A cold shiver runs up your spine at the sudden temperature change, your eyes falling shut on their own, and everything around you fades into darkness. You want to sleep a very long sleep.

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Heeseung looks at your body in his back seat, anxiety coiling in his stomach at the sight of you being curled up into a fetus position. Even as he drives, he can't concentrate on anything else, because he's pretty sure he saw a red mark on your left cheek, like someone hit you. Hard.

He's hoping he's wrong, because the rage building up in his chest is inexplicable.

There's dry mascara tracks running down your cheeks so he figures that you must have been crying, and he can't help the sick jolt he feels in his cock at the thought.

The yellow dress you're wearing is riding all the way upto your thighs, and Heeseung can feel his throat getting parched. So much skin. He's never seen you this exposed before. He wants to touch you, wants to run his palm over your smooth skin and kiss you till you're moaning into his mouth , and he wants to take you up on that offer you made on the phone, he wants to see for himself how pretty you look while crying.

He curses himself for having such thoughts when you're clearly not okay, but Heeseung's no saint. He’s never claimed to be one either.

He knows that if you asked him to take your virginity to his face, he will ravage you on the spot, it won't matter that you seem to be in pain. He'll make you forget everything and fill you with pure pleasure the entire night.

He's not a man of morals, and he's never pretended to be one.

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You wake up with a start, breathing heavily while your eyes adjust to the view around you. The unfamiliar soft sheets, the tasteful and expensive decor of the room, it all intimidated you somehow. You called heeseung, that's all that you remember, everything after that is a blur. Is this jay's room? Did he find you again?

Your heart's beating really fast, threatening to give up on you as you look down and see yourself in a white linen shirt instead of the dress that you were wearing instead. What the fuck happened.

You instinctively reach between your legs and it doesn't hurt, your panties are dry and intact. So, this isn't jay's house or clothes. The familiar cologne fills up your senses once you take a whiff of the shirt you're wearing, and it all makes sense. Heeseung.

This is heeseung's house, and his room probably, definitely his shirt. Did he change you out of your dress? Was he as disgusted as jay when he saw the mess that you were underneath your clothes?

You look around yourself and sigh in relief at finding your phone on the bedside table, exhaling the breath that you didn't know you have been holding.

Before you can reach for it tho, the door to the room opens. You pull the sheets closer to your chest when Heeseung peeks in. He seems a little taken aback at seeing you awake and sitting up , looking like he caught you in the middle of doing something.

"Thank god you're up baby, thought you’d die on me" He grins, coming inside and closing the door behind him. Suddenly, the room feels small for just the two of you, your fingers wringing nervously when he takes a seat next to you, his hands coming up to cup your cheeks.

You bite back a pained whimper at the pressure against your left cheek, Jay must have hit you really hard, the skin still sensitive and stinging at the slightest of touch. Heeseung seems to notice your discomfort and removes that hand instantly, choosing to caress the other side of your face instead.

"I need to know that you're okay sweetheart" He says, urging you to speak. But you don't know what you're supposed to say, you aren't okay, obviously, but this is better than everything else so you suppose you are. You choose to nod instead.

He hums and slides more closer to you, forcing you to look into his eyes, his face so close that if you leaned forward just a bit, your lips would collide.

"Do you want to tell me what happened? Who did this to you?" He asks, and you are taken aback by the softness in his touch and words. But you'd be a fool if you fall for that again.

Hence, you take hold of his free hand instead, watching how his eyes immediately fall to your tight grip, watching in rapt attention as you guide his hand under your shirt, and between your legs. Heeseung's eyes instantly darken when his hand comes into contact with your panty clad pussy, a few choice words leaving his mouth when you gasp at his touch.

Fuck. He likes this bold version of you.

His eyes meet yours, and hot arousal pools in his lower stomach at the way you're looking at him, eyes blown out in lust and desperation.

"It doesn't matter" You whisper, inching closer to his face, and planting a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth "just want you to fuck me and show me how good sex can feel"

A deep grunt leaves his chest at your words, and the next thing you know, his hungry mouth is latched on yours, the force of his actions making you hit your back against the bed sheets while he mounts your body, his palm still cupping the centre of your legs. He kisses you like he's been deprived of you for so long. All thoughts of your well being leave his mind, focus locked onto the sinful words you just whispered into his ear. His tongue dives into your mouth and you give him free access, both of you exchanging spit messily. You mewl into his kiss, your body squirming pathetically when he starts rubbing your clit from above your panties, applying just the right amount of pleasure to leave you gasping.

You're just about to thread your fingers in his silky strands when the familiar ringtone of your phone makes you jolt. He ignores the sound like he can't even hear it, tongue too busy sucking yours, the movement of his thumb getting faster and harder.

You can't ignore the sound tho, there aren't many people who call you. So, when your phone rings for the second time, you know it's important. You push against his chest, and he pulls away, panting heavily while he stares at you, brows furrowed in confusion.

You swallow the spit pooling in your mouth as you watch him gathering your saliva coating his lips and sucking it into his own. How does he make everything seem so hot and nasty?

"Sorry, i- i have to take that" you whisper, motioning towards your blaring phone. Heeseung grabs it from the nightstand and hands it over to you instantly "make it fast baby" He grunts, retreating his hand from between your legs and settling on groping the soft flesh of your thighs instead.

You nod, and curse when you see Suzy's name. Fuck. Fuck. You never thought about informing her of your whereabouts. She must have been waiting for you. Jihoon must be waiting for you. With an apology on the top of your tongue, you swipe right.

"Hey suzy, I'm sorr-

"Y/n, your dad is back and you need to come back right now" Her terrified voice cuts you off. Panic takes hold of your spine, and you instinctively get out of the bed, standing up to calm down your heart. You can feel heeseung's inquisitive gaze on you, but you can't be bothered with keeping up appearances right now.

"What do u mean? Why do u sound scared?" You ask her, tears gathering at your waterline, because as much as you want to stay calm, the terror grips hold of your heart. It’s never good when your dad is back.

There's some shuffling on the other side, and your heart drops when you recognize jihoon's sobs, and Suzy's coos trying to shush him down.

"What's going on?!" you can't help but raise your voice, even though it quivers.

"Listen y/n, I think he came back a few hours ago, but when he didn't find you at home he came banging on my door, asking me where you were. And he was drunk out of his mind, but he heard jihoon's voice and now he is not leaving. He keeps banging on the windows, and asking for his son, I don't know what to do. I kept calling you, and you didn't pick up. I'm going to call the police, but jihoon is not my child y/n, you have to come back right now" More shuffling, and a loud thudding sound cuts the call off, making your heart beat out of your chest.

"Suzy??, suzy?!" No response. You look around in panic, meeting Heeseung's worried eyes.

"Pants, can you lend me some pants please" you ask him, tears dripping down your face. You're panicking so hard right now, your fingers feel numb. Heeseung scrambles to his feet immediately, and noticing your shaking hands, he helps you inside them himself, folding them so they don’t restrict your movement.

"Thank you, can you- you fret- can you please, please drop me to my house. I know I promised I'd let you fuck me but I really need-

His soft lips interrupt your rant while he kisses you tenderly and cups your face, wiping your tears with the pads of his thumbs "address, baby"

And this time, you tell him your real one.

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You keep dialing Suzy's number the entire ride home but she doesn't pick up. If Heeseung hears you quietly sobbing, he doesn't mention it. You guide him to your house, and are thankful for the distraction his fingers provide as he draws random patterns on your thigh with his free hand.

You don't believe in God, you never have, but somehow , in this moment, you pray to whatever power is out there, if there is any, to keep your brother safe. You don't care about anything else. Just keep your little love safe.

Heeseung doesn't make small talk, doesn't ask questions, and you find that so comforting, it makes you wanna sob your heart out in his car.

The way he doesn’t look even slightly disgruntled by the state of your house or your neighborhood makes you want to tell him all about that you've been going through while he says nothing at all. It's been so long since someone listened to you, you know, just for the sake of listening, to take some burden off of your heavy heart.

You don't question it when heeseung gets out of his car with you, letting him follow you to Suzy's house. You don't even trust heeseung like that, but knowing that he's right behind gives you a silent strength.

Your dad's slumped on the front porch, one baseball bat clutched in one hand, and rubbing his face with the other. To say that he disgusts you, would be an understatement. How could you have ever loved this man? You haven't seen your father in so long, he got lost behind the violent person with red raging eyes a very long time ago. This man in front of you isn't your dad.

His bleary eyes fall on you, and he instantly stumbles onto his feet, pointing the bat at you.

"Where have you been you little whore" He hisses, his red eyes looking at you in pure hatred.

"What do you want dad?" You ask, fighting away any shakiness that manages to creeps into your words. Your heart is beating fast, you need to make sure that jihoon is safe, but the lack of noise from inside the house scares you.

"Where's my money?" He demands gruffly, taking a few steps towards you. You don't stumble back like you usually do, trying to hold your ground.

"There's no money dad, there's nothing for you here" You quip. Your words seem to anger him more, his nostrils flare, and he points the bat at the house "bring that little bitch out, I know you're hiding him inside, if you won't make me money, he will" He spits, and you can't believe your ears, hot tears dribble down your cheeks, blurring your vision of him.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?? Have you got no amount of shame left in you? "

A yelp resounds from your throat when your father grabs hold of your wrist all of a sudden, pulling you close, boring his threatening eyes into yours. You wince at the smell of alcohol on his breath.

"The fuck did you just say to me you little slut- he twists your arm, making you cry out in pain, you try pulling yourself away but he only tightens his hold on your arm- do u want me to break your ribs like I did with your whore moth- it all happens so fast, the grip on your arm loosens, a scream rips through the air, your dad falls to the ground. And then there's silence.

You stare in disbelief at the boy straddling over your dad's unconscious body, wiping his bloody knuckles on his jeans. He punches your dad's face twice more, then kicks him to roll him over while he stands back up.

At that point he turns to you, and you start sobbing. Heeseung is about to open his mouth to apologize for punching your dad unconscious, panicking that he did something wrong when you're pulling him into you, smashing your lips against his, kissing him with all that you've got.

Heeseung is taken aback, his eyes widening when your taste invades his mouth, but he recovers almost instantly and pulls you close to his body, kissing you back just as hard. The kiss is wet and salty because of how much you're crying, but he couldn't care less.

You're both breathing heavily when you pull apart, eyes widening when you hear Suzy's door click open. Jihoon!

You leave Heeseung standing on the porch, running to suzy when she comes outside "jihoon?" you question, your voice out of breath.

She glances at Heeseung, and then at your dad, before looking back at you.

"He fell asleep while crying, I think he got one of his seizures y/n, all the shouting really scared him" she explains, and you cup your mouth, more tears prick your eyes, feeling your heart break all over again.

It's been years since your brother got his last seizure attack because of trauma triggers. You have managed to keep him away from all his triggers, except this time. All because you were selfish, and wanted to stay the night away. Your life has to be one long, never ending sick joke.

"where's he?" you ask, your voice feeble, you're afraid you'll start screaming if you aren't careful.

"In the spare bedroom, go, I'll take care of him" She says, motioning towards your dad.

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The time span between carrying your brother home to tuck his sleeping figure inside his buzz Light year sheets, while suzy takes care of informing the police and calling the ambulance for your unconscious, and injured dad is a blur for you.

Heeseung doesn't get in trouble because you vouch for the attack being in self defense, your dad's history of abuse and drinking helps your case.

After all cars are gone, and you finally breathe a sigh of relief, you realize that Heeseung is still here. Your heart feels full when you look at his unruly appearance, and you don't want to admit the yearning you feel for him right at this moment. He's the first person besides suzy to witness the shit show that is your life, and you wonder why isn't gone yet.

And then you remember. Right, your virginity. How can you forget.

You find him leaning against your kitchen counter, hands in pocket as he waits for you. He looks so out of place standing in your small kitchen, the light bulb swinging above his head makes his skin glow, and you can't help but be attracted towards him like a moth drawn to the flame. His eyes find yours as soon as you round the corner to your kitchen, and they stay. This look is different.

He's looking at you like he's seeing you for the first time.

You take tentative steps towards his figure, fiddling with the long sleeves of his shirt that you're wearing. You don't even get to open your mouth before he's pulling you closer to him, his one hand wrapping around your waist while he cups your cheek with the other, swallowing the gasp that escapes your lips at the sudden touch.

He kisses you like you're the air that he breathes, his tongue dipping and tasting all crevices of your warm mouth. You fist the shirt on his chest, and tilt your head to deepen the kiss, whining into his famished mouth.

The kiss is everything you've ever wanted. It's not rushed, but it's needy. The passion dripping from his lips renders you boneless, and you lean further into him. The exhaustion seeping inside your bones seems to get heavy with each languid stroke of his tongue, and you don't realize when the tears start falling down your cheeks. He doesn't pull back tho, just trails his kisses upto your face, swallowing your tears as he pulls you flush to his body, dissipating any ounce of space that was left between you two.

When you pull apart, your mouths are connected by a string of saliva, hot pants escaping your chests. He rests his forehead against yours, and caresses your face by the back of his hand, cooing when you bite your lower lip to stop the tears from falling again.

You're exhausted. You're dead tired and his touch seems to be your undoing, setting all your emotions free, the severity of all the events that happened in the last twelve hours hitting you all at once.

"Let me fuck your pain away, baby" He whispers, and in that moment, you can't seem to resist falling into the familiar comfort of delusion. You know that once you let him fuck you, he'll lose interest, but you need it now. You want to bask in his affection and call it love. You want to experience feeling loved and wanted before it's inevitably snatched away from you.

"fuck me" you whisper back, wrapping your arms around his shoulders when he groans and leans into your mouth again. Heeseung feels like a fucking jerk, but seeing you so helpless, and in dire need of his touch makes him delirious.

This is a new feeling. This desire to be needed by you.

He would not admit it to you, but he relishes in the fact that you're alone, and in so much pain. It makes it easier for him to show you how much you need him. He wants you to keep him, crave him like he does you.

You gasp into his mouth when he hoists you up into his arms, your tiny figure melting into his touch. He loves it, loves how easy you are.

He might be taking advantage of your pain and vulnerability, but he only wants you to want him just as badly as every bone in his body wants you.

Your back hits the couch, and you stare up at him with wide eyes as he hovers over you, a lustful glint in them that drives him nuts. Your hands bunch up the shirt on his chest, and you pull him back into you again, not getting enough of his lips on yours.

You love how dizzy his touches are making you, your body arching into him when he gropes your curves, his hands all over you.

"Wanna see you naked" He whispers, and your heart plummets into your stomach. A sinking feeling beginning to form a pit inside your chest. No, it can't be happening again.

He must see the hesitance on your face, because he's caressing your cheek again, so softly and so gently, you almost mistake it for genuine care, but you know better.

"What is it?" He asks, planting few pecks on your pouty and swollen lips.

You twiddle with the button of his shirt, and avoid eye contact.

"C-can we turn the lights off? looking at me might turn you off" you manage to mumble, the words burning your throat on their way out .However, you're done lying to yourself.

Heeseung doesn't say anything, and you peek up to see his face. He is looking at you like you've grown two heads. It makes you feel self conscious, your ears burning in humiliation, feeling like you ruined the mood already.

"You're beautiful" He blurts, eyes still fixed on you in disbelief, he can't fathom you thinking such a thing about yourself. Him? Getting turned off by you? He has not heard a more ridiculous thing in his life before.

Your eyes snap up to him at his words and you furrow your brows in irritation.

"You don't have to lie to get inside my pants I al-"

"I've jerked off to your face" He cuts you off. Your mouth splutters like a fish as you blink up at him, trying to process his words.

He's still staring at you, eyes dark and deep.

"Jerked off just to your face. Not even your body. you're so beautiful I get hard by the mere thought of you"

You don't know whether to laugh or cry. Only Heeseung can say such things and make them feel like a compliment. You can't help the giggle that escapes your lips, and you hide your face into your hands.

"God, you're unbelievable" you groan between your giggles, unknown to the fact that heeseung's currently losing his damn mind on top of you. In that moment he realises, that he's never made you laugh before. You have never looked up at him and giggled before. The sound shoots straight to his hardening cock and spreads a warm feeling inside of his chest. He can't believe how overwhelming this sudden emotion is, and he isn’t sure where this sudden influx of affection for you is coming from. However, there’s one thing heeseung’s sure about, and it’s the fact that he loves this sight more than he loves to see you crying. And that's saying a lot.

He swallows thickly when you remove your hands from in front of your face, and smile up at him, chewing on your lower lip as the blush on your cheeks darkens

"This might be most romantic thing someone has ever said to me" you whisper, wrapping your arms around his neck again.

Heeseung leans down to press soft kisses to your jaw, preventing you from seeing the softness in his eyes. He trails his kisses down towards your neck, loving the way your breath hitches.

"Do you wanna hear the other romantic things I have to say about you?" He asks, mouthing at your collarbone, and you whine when he digs his teeth into your soft skin.

"Y-yeah" you mewl, your body squirming as he squeezes your ass in one hand while he supports himself over you with the other.

His hand travels inside your (his) shirt, touching your skin, caressing it. You bite on your lower lip, eyes fluttering when he reaches your bra covered breasts. Your nipples are already hard and pebbled, and you moan loudly when he pinches them.

"fuck" He groans, your erotic sounds making him leak inside his jeans.

He mouths hotly at the hollow of your neck, and squeezes your boobs harshly, making you cry out again. Fuck, he loves playing with your body like this.

You tangle your fingers inside his hairs, your toes curling at the attention he's giving to your chest.

Heeseung sits up to unbutton your shirt, manhandling your body to take it off of you in a lust driven frenzy. As soon as it’s off of your body, he instantly goes back to squeezing your soft flesh again, watching with dark eyes how your soft skin turns red in his hold.

"Ah-heeseung" you whimper, feeling exposed at how he greedily drinks in your uncovered skin.

He unbuttons your (his) jeans, and slides them off of your legs in one go, discarding them on the floor. He bites his lower lip, his eyes running across your uncovered body, and he can feel how hard and heavy he is inside his jeans. He fights the urge to squeeze his junk when you bite on your finger, doe eyes staring up at him, your body squirming as he gropes you.

You're so naively sexy, your innocence drives him batshit insane.

"I almost jerked off to you while changing your clothes you know? you just looked too fucking sexy to resist" He grunts, his fingers running over your stretch marks. Before you have a chance to feel self conscious about the fact that he's seen your body before, or feel apprehensive about his touch on your stretch marks, he leans down to kiss them. You gasp when he runs his hot tongue over them, kissing and licking like he can't help it. He traces your panty line with the tip of his tongue, hands groping your thighs mercilessly.

He's so close to your pussy, and your face burns.

"H-heeseung" You squeak out, and the boy instantly climbs up your body to come face to face with you, pecking you softly as he hums.

"I-i haven't shaved" you tell him shyly, your ears heating up in embarrassment. But you need to tell him now before he recoils in disgust later.

What you don't expect is the way he chuckles, leaning down to nibble on your cheek while his hand cups your breast again, squeezing and groping.

"you worry about the things that don't even cross my mind baby- he pecks your nose and stares into your eyes- you think I'll care about some hairs when your warm pussy is right there? that I'll be able to think about anything other than sucking and fucking when my dick's about to fall off?"

Your face is so hot you can feel the heat radiating off of you. Though his words are vulgar, and so obscene, they do placate your worries for a bit.

Keyword : a bit.

You're still apprehensive about him being down there. What if you smell bad? and taste even worse?

You gasp when he roughly pulls your boobs out of your bra cups, and takes one in his wet mouth. You tug on his hairs, and moan when he bites your nipple too harshly, the sensation making you arch your back into his mouth.

You don't notice when his hand travels between your legs, but a deep whine falls from your lips when he runs a finger over your panty clad slit.

"you're fucking dripping baby" He groans into your flesh that he still has in his mouth, sucking and biting both of your boobs till they sting.

You try to close your thighs around his hand but he tsks in faux disappointment, and parts them again, trailing his kisses down towards your centre, leaving no portion of your skin unmarked.

He kisses your pussy from above your panties, slurpimg your wetness through the sheer material, burying his nose into your slit.

"fuck baby, taste so good" he groans, rubbing his nose in your wetness, tracing the outline of your pussy with his mouth. You bite your finger, and squirm in his touch, feeling yourself dripping more.

He trails his kisses down to your inner thighs, making you squeal when he digs his teeth into your sensitive flesh. He chuckles into your skin, and does the same to your other thigh. He seems to be enjoying this more than you are. He leaves more bites marks up your leg before burying his face between your legs again, making your thighs close around his head.

The action makes something in him snap, and heeseung sits up on his hunches, stares straight into your eyes while he licks his lips for your juices, and starts sliding your panties down your smooth legs.

“want you in my mouth before we fuck”

Your breath hitches when his heavy lidded eyes snap down to your nakedness, and he closes his eyes to groan.

"shit" He curses, parts your legs open, and dives straight between your legs, not even bothering to take off your panties all the way off as it hangs on your ankle obscenely. He sucks your sensitive clit into his mouth,and you moan so loudly it has you slapping your palm over your own. The overwhelming sensation makes your eyes roll back, only ever feeling your own fingers down there, it's a heady feeling to feel someone else.

You tangle your fingers in his hairs, tugging harshly when he slurps your wetness, parting your pussy open with his fingers,and thrusting his tongue inside your virgin hole,running it all over your vulva like a starved man.

You thrash in his hold, a shiver running down your spine when his nose bumps your clit, and he starts applying pressure, rubbing it back and forth. The obscene squelch that you can hear from between your legs has your face burning, you can't believe how wet you are. You aren't ready for the sudden feeling of his finger sliding inside your pussy, and you scream. Heeseung looks up at you from between your legs, and increases his movement, eyes dark as they watch you lose yourself to pleasure.

"How does that feel? " He asks, voice so deep it makes your pussy throb.

You moan, and nod your head rapidly "s-so good" you whimper when he dives down to suck on your clit again. The combined feeling of his fingers and mouth pushes you closer to your orgasm.

"Yeah baby? Your pussy's so tight, can't wait to get in there, wanna feel good too" He groans, thrusting a second finger inside your warm cavity, and probing inside your gummy walls in come hither motion that makes you mewl.

"So wet" He mumbles, licking into your pussy again. And God do you taste addicting, heeseung can spend the whole day buried in between your legs if you would give him a chance. The way your walls flutter around his fingers has him leaking copious amount of precum in his jeans, and he has never been so turned on before.

"pleasee" You moan, and he's crawling up to you again, his lips capturing yours and you can taste yourself on his tongue. He fucks you with his fingers rapidly, lust filled eyes watching in rapt attention at how your eyes flutter shut, and your body arches into him, so ready to getting lost in pleasure.

He curses under his breath as he watches how you grind your hips on his fingers, trying to chase the pleasure they’re giving you

"yeah? Gonna cum and make a mess baby? " He asks into your mouth, swallowing your moan, and licking the drool escaping your lips.

You nod your head and dig your nails into his neck, holding onto him for your life. Heeseung ruts his hard on against your thigh as he watches you come undone on his fingers alone, moaning his name unintelligibly. Watching you cum is the hottest thing he’s ever seen, he decides.

"Cum on me, make yourself feel good" he sighs, the pleasure filled expression on your face has him close to cumming untouched. You gyrate your hips while his fingers get covered in your juices, drenching his palm as he helps you ride out your orgasm. You sigh out in relief, coming down from your high, your hold loosens on his neck and you squirm while you watch him sucking his fingers, tasting your juices. It's so hot, you don't even realize when you lean in. His lips meet yours and you moan upon tasting your cum, sucking on his tongue like he sucks yours.

"Made you feel so good yeah?" He asks, his voice hoarse in desire, and you nod, pushing yourself into him again. He wraps his arms around your body, and unhooks your bra, finally taking it off of your body, and discarding it somewhere.

"My turn" He grunts.

You rub your thighs together while he unbuckles his belt, ogling your naked body like a pervert. Your eyes widen when he pulls his boxers down unceremoniously, just enough to let his dick flop out.

It's bigger in person,even bigger than you remember while touching him and you whine. There's no way that can fit inside you. His eyes darken as he strokes his cock, fisting it to the sight of your naked body lying so helplessly, ready for the taking. And God does he want to take you.

If you weren't a virgin, he would have been pounding your hole by now, but as much as he's impatient, he wants to make this experience good for you too.

You're sucking on your finger again, your eyes fixed on how he moves his palm up and down his shaft, the real life version makes you drip more than the video he sent did.

Heeseung hovers over your body again, and grabs your hand, pulling out your finger from your mouth. "No hiding your sounds from me, wanna hear you loud and clear while I fuck you stupid" He growls, and you squirm under his gaze.

You yelp when you feel him running his dickhead against your slick pussy, wetting it in your juices for a smooth slide. You dig your nails into his shoulders, staring up at him with your big doe eyes as you utter the words which make Heeseung finally snap.

"p-please don't make it hurt" your voice is the sweetest thing he's ever heard, and God, does he want to hurt you. He wants to roughly push himself inside till there's nothing but tears of pain and pleasure running down your pretty face. He wants to make you scream, and show you how pain only heightens the pleasure.

You're so naive, looking up at him, trusting him, but heeseung is lost in his dark desires and pushes in without a warning. You turn him on so badly. You scream at the way his length bullies itself inside your tight hole, scraping against your walls and your body feels like it's being split in half. Tears blur your vision and you push against his chest, sobbing through the pain that makes you want to run away. It's too much.

"h-hurts please-oh-" his hips push inside and then he's balls deep into you, groaning in satisfaction while you scream again. The feeling of your hymen tearing apart makes you sob uncontrollably, and you try to angle your hips away from him. He doesn’t fit, he’s gonna tear you apart.

Heeseung holds your hips in his bruising grip, and starts moving in and out. He's too damn turned on to think about anything else other than how good your virgin pussy feels around his dick. "Stay still baby, let me feel good" He grunts, pulling out of your hole to the hilt, and then pushing inside again. In and out. In and out. His hot pants fall onto your wet cheeks. Heeseung reaches down to rub on your clit, relishing in the wet warmth of your pussy. It feels more pleasurable for him when you start getting impossibly wet. Soon enough, Your pain filled sobs start to subside, and pleasure filled sobs start to leave your lips instead.

That's when he starts fucking in earnest. Once he hears you moan in pleasure, heeseung lets go of all his inhibitions, and straight up pounds into you.

"Fuck yeah baby, so fucking tight for me" he groans, snapping his hips against you at a rapid pace. His balls smack against your ass every time he pushes in, and the skin slapping sounds make your head throb in pleasure.

You didn't know sex could feel so good. "Heeseung please, oh my god" You moan when his dick rubs against your sweet spot, his hot pants fall on your mouth while he slots his lips against yours in imitation of a kiss

"Yeah? Just like that?" He asks, his own eyes rolling back when you clench around him. So deliciously tight.

The slide inside is so deep and so wet, it makes his hips pick up speed.

"Warm little cunt, waited so long to get inside" he groans, biting on your lower lip, and grinding his pelvis against yours.

The sheer ecstasy running through your veins at the way his cock makes out with your cervix, makes you thrust up your hips against him. You buck into his hold, pressing your body closer, rubbing your chest against his clothed one. It's then that you realize that he's still wearing clothes.

Heeseung curses under his breath when you whine and tug at his shirt.

"You wanna feel me naked baby?" he asks, running his hands over your curves as he pounds into your warm hole. It's too good to stop.

You nod and tug on his shirt again, trying to get closer to him.

"Fuck" Heeseung mutters, and sits back on his hunches, his hips still grind into you while he strips himself off of his clothes. He pulls himself out of you for a split second to discard his jeans and boxers on the floor, then he's thrusting into you again.

"This is so much fucking better" He moans, loving how your naked body arches into his own, rubbing yourself against him so desperately. The delicious friction of your grinding sexes makes you both delirious in pleasure. Heeseung digs his fingers into the fat of your waist, and buries his face inside the crook of your neck, kissing and moaning along it while his thrusts become merciless. You dig your nails into his shoulders, and throw your head back, exposing more skin for him to dig his teeth into. The obscene way your naked bodies buck and thrust against each other to reach pleasure high is a sight to behold. The skin slapping, and wet squelching sounds fill up the space between your heated bodies, and you never want this feeling to stop.

"tight fucking cunt, so good, wanna keep fucking till my dick aches" His filthy words travel deep inside your core, and warmth spreads inside your womb, the knot starting to form in your stomach.

"oh my god" You moan when he slows his hips into a slow grind, hitting all the right spots inside your swollen pussy.

"Yeah? fuck yourself on my dick like a slut, grind your virgin little pussy on my meat" He growls, coming up to capture your lips in his own, groaning into your mouth when you dig your nails painfully inside his flesh, enough to draw blood.

The sweat drips down your bodies, as you rut against each other in pure pleasure. You moan into heeseungs mouth as he languidly licks against your open cavity, sucking on your tongue, and exchanging spit.

The pace of his thrusts fasten, and he pounds you into the couch, fucking into you like his life depends on it. Your words are reduced to mere moans and babbles, your tongue lolling out at how good he feels.

"gonna cum inside this cunt baby, gonna let me fill you up right? flood your insides with my fuck cream?" You nod in a lust filled haze, and heeseung licks the saliva that pools in the corner of your mouth.

" Yeah? Real deep baby? Fuck-so fucking good Jesus" He growls, his spit and sweat falling into your mouth as he starts rutting into you like an animal. He can feel himself getting closer. the knot in your stomach snaps when he presses his palm into your lower stomach to trace his outline. You gasp into his mouth, and your body convulses uncontrollably.

"Fuck yeah, god you're gonna make me cum, god im- his hips grind a few times inside your pussy, and then he's stilling inside of you, the tight clench of your pussy pushing him over the edge, shooting his thick cum inside your womb.

It feels so good that Heeseung keeps moving inside you till you whine and cry out in overstimulation. You're grateful when he listens, and pulls out, but the very next second, he's getting down there and burying his face between your legs again, slurping your combined juices from your pussy. Your toes curl at the feeling, and you can't help but open your mouth when he comes up to slot his cum filled one against yours. It's nasty, but you can't stop licking into him, tasting your mixed release together.

"Fuck, you're nasty" He chuckles, finally turning your body around, and wrapping you into his embrace.

For the first time in your life, you fall asleep nuzzled into a warm and comforting body against you.

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Heeseung has always prided himself in the fact that he doesn’t get attached to people easily, doesn’t feel certain emotions until he allows himself to. He’s not a good person, he’s always known this, that’s the reason why he has always kept himself at a distance.

Watching. Observing.

Nothing in his life is unpredictable, heeseung works according to the plan, always predicting and preparing himself for situations that can happen. That’s just how he operates.

Watching. Observing. Executing.

You, however, caught him off guard. Heeseung was never ready for you to barge in his life the way that you did.

You think you know him from third semester but heeseung knows you from way before that. The first time he’d seen you was on the very first day of college, waiting right outside the registrar office, chewing on your bottom lip nervously as you stepped aside for people to pass.

There was something about you that stuck with Heeseung. He couldn't figure out what it was no matter how much he thought about it but you soon became a constant itch at the back of his mind.

It wasn't like you were strikingly pretty. Heeseung had been surrounded by beautiful women all his life. Almost desensitized to extravagant beauty. It all seemed vague to him.

You were not extraordinarily pretty, no.

But you were enchanting. it was the type of pretty that stuck with you, that stayed with you, the type of pretty that might not capture your attention in the first glance but the second or third glance might have you hooked; the type of pretty that was made up of hesitant smiles and solemn gazes and fidgeting hands.

Heeseung watched you from afar for a long time, observing, learning. That was until he saw an opportunity to be in the same lecture as you. That’s when he started executing.

And then you made him fail. At his own game.

Heeseung’s sickness identified and craved yours, rendering him powerless when he realized that maybe,you were even sicker than him, a thousand times more depraved. You just didn’t know it yet.

He didn’t realize when you became the very thing he breathes, carving yourself a home inside the darkest parts of his heart.

Ever since he fucked you into your sheets, his craving for you has increased tenfold. He is way past pretending that you are some stupid bet, or a mere name on the list. Seeing you vulnerable, and yet so strong , made something shift in him. He's always been sick in desire for you, but over the past few months, you have managed to infiltrate your way inside his brain.

"How's the mission " Cherries to pop" going for you man?" Jake's voice interrupts his thoughts, and he doesn't have to think twice about his answer, eyes fixated on your slumped figure as he replies

"Take her off the list, I won"

Numerous gasps are heard around him, sunghoon laughs in shock, eyes meeting Jake's in disbelief "you can't be serious, was she any good? " He asks, nervousness creeping in his voice, because heeseung does look serious.

Heeseung turns his eyes towards sunghoon, face void of any recognizable emotion

"the bet's over. I don't want to talk about it, but if I see any of you fuckers around her after this, it's going to get bloody " He warns, sweeping his eyes over the shocked faces of the boys around him. And with that, you are taken off the list forever.

◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

You hear the whispers, you aren't deaf, but something inside you disassociated when you woke up in the evening after losing your virginity. Cold and alone.

Heeseung had cleaned your body and clothed it before he left, but not having him near stung more than you ever thought it would. It was to be expected tho, wasn’t it? He got what he wanted, there was no reason to stay.

"can't believe heeseung really did it"

"Man, she doesn't look like she must have been a good fuck"

"A win is a win"

You don't dare look up the entire day, ignoring all the folded papers that fall beside your leg. Curiosity doesn't get the better of you, and you don't pick them up to read what's inside. It just doesn't seem to matter anymore. All this buzz will die down in a week, and you will finally resort back to the dark corners, and shadows where people will no longer look at you, just past you.

You don't dread the reality of your situation anymore, a small sigh leaving your lips as you gather your stuff, and walk past the inquisitive stares.

Settling down at the farthest seat in the cafeteria gives you a sense of relief. This seat has been your safe space through all ups and down. The only constant in the chaos of your existence.

You're busy swirling your food around the plate when a sudden quiet falls over the cafeteria. All the chitter chatter and noise dies down. It's almost eerie. Eerie enough to finally make you look up to see what's wrong. Your eyes turn towards the entrance as you follow everyone's collective gaze, and what you see makes your heart plummet in your stomach.

It's Jay. But he's wearing a cap, his head slumped down as he makes his way towards his seat with an obvious limp, but it doesn't hide the black and blue wound blossoming around his left eye, several deep cuts on his lower lip, and scratches on his cheek. The high neck he's wearing sticks out like a sore thumb in mid July, and you wonder if there's more that he's trying to hide. You don't have to worry about facing him, looks like he's not going to be looking up anytime soon.

Realization sets inside your throat like a lump, and you instinctively snap your gaze towards heeseung's table. His eyes are already on you when you find him. They're dark, and tender, if that's even possible. You feel like you're drowning in them. Your throat feels full, and your eyes burn the more that you look at him, and you can't help but follow your instinct to get out of here as soon as possible. It's too much. This sudden influx of emotion is too much for you.

Murmurs follow your leave, but you don't stay behind to hear or care. Your steps are heavy and purposeful as you stride forward, away from everyone and everything. This feels like a fever dream. Why the fuck would Heeseung do that? Scratch that, how the fuck did he even find out?

But you know exactly how he found out. The location that you shared. It isn’t rocket science to figure out who lives nearby. Of course he knows. What confuses you is the fact that he cared enough to look it up and avenge you in his own sick way.Why does he even care?

You can feel a breakdown coming, and so without wasting time, you rush home in a frenzy. By the time you reach your threshold, your throat hurts, the tonsils burning in pain. Your body is begging for you to let it out, but you're a slave to your habits. Holding everything inside until it chokes your airway.

You're tapping your leg frantically as you stir a spoon haphazardly in your coffee cup, swallowing down copious amounts of caffeine to push back the inevitable. You hate breakdowns, hate feeling so out of control and vulnerable. It shatters your facade, makes you come face to face with the pretty lies that you tell yourself.

"It's going to be fine, you're fine"

But are you?

A loud honking in your front yard makes you drop your cup, spilling all of its contents on your shoes, jumping back as you get startled out of your mind.

Who the fuck?

You step over the mess and make your way to your front door, watching in disbelief as Heeseung's car idles in front of you. He's looking right at you from his window, and you wonder what is it about his eyes. There's something about his eyes and the way he looks at you. It makes you feel naked. Body and soul. It seems like he looks right through you, and you don't know if you like that.

Your feet move on their own and he doesn’t even have to say anything. In no time, you find yourself sitting inside his car, your back against the expensive leather seats, while you play with the stray threads of your blouse.

"What do you want now?" you ask, deciding to break the silence. It's only fair to stop beating around the bush and get this over with. Whatever this is.

"You" He answers almost immediately, making you scoff. You don't look at him but you can feel his gaze burning into you.

"I'm not a virgin anymore Heeseung, you won, there’s nothing more that I can offer you" Your voice feels scratchy against your throat, and you wonder if it's because of the tears you keep pushing back.

There's a heavy pause of silence, and then you hear him chuckle, almost in pity and contempt.

"You don't get it do you?" He asks, voice laced with disbelief.

When you don't look up, and don't respond, he laughs hollowly.

"Ask me why I did that" He says, his tone a tad bit deeper now. It's a demand. "Ask me why I smashed pretty boy's face in"

You swallow the lump in your throat, and close your eyes. Not now please.

"Why" you whisper ask, almost inaudible if it wasn't for the pin drop silence in the car.

"because it gave me a sick satisfaction to see him in pain. I'm not sorry about how your old man ended up either. If I could, I would shoot both of their skulls open for putting their hands on you"

The anger and pure hatred in his voice makes a sob to rip through your chest, eyes finally snapping up to meet his. They're dark in anger, and disdain, and you wonder why he cares so much. You look over to his wounded knuckles which are turning white due to how tightly he’s gripping onto the steering wheel. The sight of his anger mirroring your own ignites a spark of recognition deep within you. The raw intensity of emotion emanating from Heeseung stirs something inside your vacant soul. For the first time in what feels like an eternity, you feel seen. Validated. All this time, you had told yourself that you got what you deserve. You were fundamentally flawed, and all of this pain was your own fault.You never allowed yourself to be angry, burying the rage beneath your stoic facade, but seeing Heeseung angry for you makes your own walls crumble one by one.

"I want to cut open anyone who's ever hurt you baby, I want to be the only one who gets to hurt you" He declares.

You gape at him while tears run down the slope of your cheeks

"that's-that's not normal" you whisper, but his expressions don't crack, eyes wide and pupils dilated. In this moment, he looks insane, and it scares you how much you want to get lost in him.

"You don't need normal" he replies.

His words hit heavy and get stuck inside your throat. You look away and wipe your tears, swallowing another bout of sobs threatening to escape your chest. The walls are cracking, the sound of them breaking and destructing can be heard as you let his words sink in.

"Quit your part time job and let me take care of you. Your every need, I'll satisfy it. You won't even have to ask me for it and it will be done" He says, leaning forward, as if trying to make you see the reason in what he's saying.

You shake your head, eyes brimming with anger and tears as you stare right into his own.

"I don't need you to take care of me. I've always done it myself and I have managed to do it just fine, I don’t need you" you seethe, feeling rage at his implication that you can't hold your own.

His expressions soften as he runs his eyes over your angry tears, his hand coming up to wipe them with his thumb. It’s pathetic how this small caress makes you lean into his touch.

"No you don't. But I need you. I need to take care of you. I won’t be able to live with myself if I don't" He confesses.

More tears run down your cheeks as sobs rip through your chest, and he continues to caress your face.

"Is this a declaration of love?" you grouch through your physical grief, watching how his eyes gaze into yours, as if he wasn't expecting you to ask him that.

"Does it have to be? I promise to keep you happy and protect you from all harm, should that not be enough?"

You stare into his orbs and your heart skips a beat at the raw vulnerability you find there. He's just as scared as you, if not more. Turns out, you aren't the only one who is bad at confronting feelings.

You crawl your way onto his lap, and he instantly wraps his arms around you, like you belong there. You take his hand into your own and press tender kisses onto his knuckles, and he watches you do it. Then you look up, and smile. That smile seems to be his undoing. Heeseung instantly leans down to kiss you fervently. You tangle your fingers in his hairs, kissing back just as deeply, and he groans into the kiss. The collision of your mouths is desperate, as if trying to convey all that's left unsaid.

"It's enough" You mumble into his mouth, and he swallows your words greedily.

#enhypen smut #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard headcanons #enhypen #heeseung smut #lee heesung x reader #lee heeseung smut #lee heeseung #heeseung x reader #heeseung angst #enhypen angst #jay x reader #park jongseong

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explorevenus · 2 months

Text

baby steps ♡ yandere!leon kennedy x reader

nsfw (18+) - minors dni or i will call ur mom. and also the cops

word count: 5k

description: moving to raccoon city with leon, your long-term boyfriend and childhood sweetheart, doesn't go as planned. while you consider moving back home to lick your wounds, leon conspires to keep you right by his side, where you were always meant to be.

tags/warnings: yandere!leon kennedy, specifically rookie cop leon, squishy soft dom leon, manipulation and generally toxic behavior, baby trapping (via tampering w condoms), daddy kink, praise kink, pet names, no use of y/n, fingering, p in v, creampie, cockwarming, mention of vomiting

a/n: this piece was commissioned by #1 Soft Dom Rookie Leon Truther and My Feral Puppy Wife @nexysworld ,, pls pls check out her work, she's so very talented and sweet and i am lucky to call her a friend ;w; <33

hopefully if u made it this far u read the tags and know what ur in for, but out of an abundance of caution i would like to reiterate that this is a yandere!leon fic and therefore contains dark themes a la dubious/uninformed consent and unhealthy relationship dynamics. if that's a no-no for u, pls kindly move on and take care of urself !!

my masterlist ♡

my ao3 ♡

fic under the cut, thanks so much for reading and i hope u enjoy ;w;

-venus ♡

Leon had it all figured out from the day he met you, the first day of kindergarten. The two of you were going to be just like the movies, just like the storybooks– you would grow up as friends, blossom into lovers, marry young and start a family, and everything would be exactly as it should be. He would have fulfilled his purpose, and you would have fulfilled yours. All would be right in the universe.

And he wasn’t exactly far off, for a long time. You were attached at the hip through elementary school, somehow managed to stay friends through middle school and after an awkward, smitten kiss shared in the empty auditorium, you began dating in high school. It was perfect, he thought. He didn’t even have to pull that many strings.

You went to prom, got drunk for the first time, learned to drive, all in each other’s company. You had each other’s virginity. You’d seen, touched and savored every inch of each other. There was almost nothing you didn’t share.

It wasn’t too long after graduation that Leon applied to begin training at the police academy, just like he’d always dreamed of. It was a solid profession with plenty of benefits for both of you and it would give him the opportunity to help people, ticking off all the boxes of what he wanted for himself. It was perfect, it was safe.

No one was surprised when he soared through the police academy with impeccable marks. You were such a little angel when he graduated, showering him with kisses and sweets and letting him pound you into the mattress for a whole weekend to celebrate. And when his application in Raccoon City was accepted, you did exactly as he hoped you would and you followed right along with him.

Of course you would follow right along. You didn’t know what life without Leon meant. You couldn’t even conceptualize what that would feel like and you had no intention of finding out, but that was fine by him. He was happy to be your rock, your guidance, your big, strong boyfriend who would hold your hand and follow you through everything.

With Leon, you would never be alone. You would never be far from home. After all this time, he was your home, exactly as your lives were designed.

For the first few months of living in Raccoon City, the two of you shared a cozy apartment. It was a little worse for wear, but it was cute, and it was a fun way to start your adventure into young adulthood together. He was happy to handle all of the spiders and quadruple check the locks every night if it made you feel safer, if it gave you an excuse to come crying to him like a beautiful angel whenever you were frightened.

Bumps in the night, creaks of the pipes, the skittering of the upstairs neighbor’s little dog, they all sent you folding into his arms, shaking like a leaf, crying for him to protect you. He was your knight, and God were you his perfect little princess. The apple of his eye, the one and only object of his affection. No, not his affection, his obsession.

You were all he thought about, day and night, for more than half of his 21 years of living. Everything he did, every breath he took was with you in mind. You were the only living manifestation of complete and total perfection, every inch of you crafted with care and divinity. Your lives fit together like puzzle pieces– hell, your bodies fit together like puzzle pieces. You were meant for each other.

It wasn’t long after you moved that the job you had lined up fell through, and you were left reeling. Moving away from home just to fall flat on your face was a massive blow to your self esteem, especially considering your parents practically screamed a hole through the phone at you about it. The next few days were spent sulking around the apartment, trying to pick up the pieces and choose a completely different path for yourself.

And there was Leon to hold you while you cried. To make dinner every night and dote on you endlessly, to pamper you with gifts and to insist over and over that he could make rent on his own, that he didn’t mind if you needed a little more time to wallow before finding a job… and to console you when your search for employment would prove fruitless once again.

He was there to tell you it wasn’t your fault, that the job market was just rough right now and that no matter what, he would be there to take care of you.

Weeks stretched into months and you still felt like you were spinning out, even with Leon by your side. Every single day was beginning to feel the same and you didn’t know what to do, all you knew was that you couldn’t imagine living the rest of your life like this. Something had to give and Raccoon City clearly wasn’t it.

Leon came home with a big smile on his face, just like any other day, but today was extra special. He’d finally had his one year review at the police station, and he was getting a sizable raise. He couldn’t wait to tell you he was gonna get you out of this shitty apartment and into somewhere nicer. He couldn’t wait to sneak his way down to the jeweler in search of a ring. The storybook life he had laid out for you was coming to fruition right before his eyes.

But you were quiet over dinner, and you looked exhausted. You wouldn’t even meet his eyes as you picked at your plate.

He was just about to ask you what was wrong when you finally spoke up, “I-I think I need to move back home with my parents.”

Silence. He felt like he had been shot.

“It’s just that… I know you said you’re happy to take care of bills and everything, but I just feel terrible every day being a burden and I think I need a chance to figure things out and get back up on my feet. I don’t even know what I’m doing with my life anymore.”

His expression fell and his heart ached, any and all excitement he had about his situation now gone in an instant. All the money in the world meant nothing to him if he couldn’t share it with you, and to see you so lost and scared made him feel like he fucking failed you, his poor, sweet princess who looked to him for purpose and protection and partnership.

Leon wasn’t stupid. He knew that allowing you to move back in with your parents could potentially be a death sentence to your relationship. When people aren’t around each other anymore, it’s only natural that they drift apart, and Leon could not let that happen. It wasn’t even an option in his brain. Something had to be done and something had to be done now, before your lease was up in a few months, before push came to shove and you would finally have to make your choice.

He wasn’t even really sure where he got the idea. It wasn’t something he’d ever considered before, mostly because he didn’t think he’d ever be put in this position.

A few nights after that conversation, Leon couldn’t sleep. It was well past two in the morning and you were peacefully asleep beside him while he stared at the ceiling, entirely lost in thought. He witnessed the worst and darkest of humanity at work every single day, but nothing scared him as deeply as the idea of losing you.

Eventually he got out of bed as carefully as he could manage, not wanting to wake you with his troubles. He only planned to get some water and maybe a minute or two of fresh air to clear his mind, but what he didn’t plan to get was some inspiration.

You had asked him to stop at the store on his way home from work to pick up a few things you needed, and the bag was still sitting on the counter. He took it upon himself to grab a few things he needed, too, and among the items left in the bag was an unopened box of condoms. At first his eyes skimmed over it without much interest, but it wasn’t long before he froze where he stood and turned to look at the bag again.

Leon wasn’t sure what came over him. He didn’t really feel like himself, it was like he was watching his next moves from a third person perspective, hovering above, detached. For a moment he even wondered if he was sleepwalking, or if this was a dream. He stared down at the box in his hand, carefully opened it, and pierced a hole in the center of each and every one. He tucked the packets back into the box and brought it with him on his way back to the bedroom, stashing it in the usual spot in the bedside table.

On his side, of course.

He tried to go back to sleep, but he couldn’t help but just watch you. You were so pretty, so peaceful when you were dreaming, such a nice contrast to the stress and insecurity over finding your life’s purpose that plagued you in your waking hours.

But Leon already knew your life’s purpose. He reached out, gently brushing your messy hair away from your sleepy face so he could admire you more fully, and all he could think about was how much happier you’d look with a ring on your finger and a baby in your belly. Maybe an unexpected nudge in the right direction would set you back on the correct path and make you come to your senses about moving back in with your parents.

You huffed out a sleepy little breath from between your plush lips, stirring in the bed and peeking open your eyes to look at him. It was clear you weren’t fully conscious yet, but you were trying, squirming closer to him to tuck yourself into his chest.

“W’time is it?” You mumbled, rubbing your eyes.

He smiled fondly, petting your hair and pressing a kiss to the crown of your head as you cuddled up to him like a sweet little baby bear, and he tried to pretend he hadn’t accidentally made himself hard as fuck thinking about knocking you up just to get you to stay with him. Somewhere deep down, he knew it was gross, he knew it was wrong, he knew it could violate your trust in so many ways.

But Leon was nothing if not a yearner, a hopeless romantic who couldn’t bear the thought of life without you by his side. He’d done everything right by you and you were still straying away from him, and that just wouldn’t do. It’s an act of desperation, he thought to himself, justifying his actions into the ground, I just want her so badly I’m not thinking straight, all pleas for forgiveness he would store for later use.

“It’s late, baby,” He mumbled into your hair, breathing in the scent of your shampoo. “I’m sorry if I woke you up.”

You just shook your head and tightened your arms around him, clearly on the verge of dozing off again. Perhaps if the circumstances were different, he would have just let you, but he wouldn’t be awake in the first place if it weren’t for the extreme sense of urgency he felt.

His broad, warm hands engulfed you, one cradling the back of your head while the other rubbed your lower back, tapering off to paw at your hip. Your shirt– well, his shirt– had ridden up nearly to your waist, baring your cute panties, your soft belly and your plush thighs to his gaze. He swiped the pad of his thumb along your hip, imagining your bone structure spreading open to make room for his growing baby.

Leon didn’t take the time to talk himself out of it before his fingertips were sneaking down between your legs, slipping beneath your panties and finding your clit with practiced ease. The sensation was enough to jerk you awake again, a quiet mewl tumbling from your lips as you rocked into his hand, so sleepy and out of it and just so very cute.

“Leon?” Your voice was thick with sleep, but airy and light with sudden onset desire. That was all he needed to know he had you right where he wanted you.

“Shh, shh, you’re alright,” He cooed softly, following up the soothing whispers with a few gentle nibbles and bites to the shell of your ear, knowing that such attention always melted you into a puddle. “You’re alright, pretty baby, I just wanna play with you. Can daddy play with his sweet angel?”

You squirmed in his hold for a second, pondering his proposition while barely awake, but it wasn’t long before you were nodding into his shoulder and peppering his collarbone with wet kisses in return. It never took much to convince you when he spoke to you like that, so adoring and saccharine.

“That’s my good girl,” He mused, invigorated by your consent. Almost instantaneously he became more heavy-handed with his touches, fingertips massaging firm, purposeful circles around your clit, occasionally dipping down to collect your growing arousal and bring it back with him. “You’re all mine, you know that? Never gonna let anyone else have my baby.”

Poor you. Clueless of his intentions, you interpreted that sentence in a much different way than he really meant it. But, ignorance is bliss, and what you felt right now was nothing short of blissful.

You poked your head up just to catch his lips with your own in a wanton grasp for more intimacy, a signal of your agreement, like you were giving yourself to him. He knew it was wrong that you didn’t fully realize what you were agreeing to, but again, he compartmentalized that, deciding that was a problem for his future self. What mattered right now was securing your place at his side for the rest of your lives.

He could feel the way your hips were stuttering, he could feel how short your breaths were becoming against his lips, and he knew you were getting close. Grunting into your mouth, he forced his hand further down your panties and sank two thick fingers into your hole, stretching you open for him. The intrusion was quite a bit less gentle than you were used to from him, drawing a shocked whimper from you, but you soon began to relax once more when he curled up into your sweet spot, sending you boneless.

“D-Daddy,” You whined, nails biting into his shoulders. “Hurts… Slow, slower…”

A shiver rolled over his body, that of immediate guilt. He knew he was being a little rough with you, and he certainly didn’t want to hurt you, but…

“Fuck, I can’t help it,” He groaned, “Been thinking about this pussy all night, princess, I need you like air…”

You could hear the desperation in his tone, and even more you could feel it in the way he touched you like he was starving, like he was stranded in the desert and you were an oasis. Softened by this– and entirely hypnotized by his praise– you resigned to the feeling, allowing him to play with your body as he pleased. He was rutting into nothing without even thinking about it, his cock woefully hard and straining against the front of his grey sweatpants.

He wanted to prepare you properly, he really did, but he was so revved up and needy, he didn’t want to risk blowing his load anywhere but inside you. That wasn’t an option. Hands shaking, he pulled away from you just long enough to kick his sweatpants off and reach for one of those condoms, silently resenting the fact that he had to wear one at all, but he had an appearance to keep up.

He tore the package open haphazardly with his teeth and rolled the condom on, shuddering deeply. His grasp was tight on your thigh as he pulled it up and over his hip, his other hand pushing your dainty purple panties aside to guide his cock into the heavenly, pillowy walls of your ethereal cunt.

Fuck, you were so fucking tight, clenching around him, whimpering and whining and writhing like a perfect little puppy in heat. Leon’s teeth sank into your shoulder as he bottomed out in you, and he almost could have sworn he felt the tip of the condom rip open even wider. The image alone had him moaning like an animal, pinning your quivering body to his own while he rolled his hips, fucking you deep and hard and slow, savoring every single stroke of your slippery walls around his aching cock. Every meeting of your hips was joined by obscene squelching with the way you were practically sucking him in.

“G-God, fuck,” Leon growled, his face contorted with pleasure. You and Leon had always had what you considered to be an active and healthy sex life, but you’d never seen him quite so beside himself with raw lust. Whatever drove him in that moment was primal, and you could feel it in his every movement, his every breath, see it in the wild look in his eyes.

His pupils were like dinner plates as he gazed down at you, stamping your forehead with kisses and feeling over every inch of your body. “Look at you, just look at you… Such a perfect little dolly for daddy to love on forever and ever, huh? Oh, my princess…”

You were lightheaded with arousal, every nerve ending in your body lighting up with white hot pleasure. You could barely even form a sentence, just nodding along as he moaned out his praise and letting him manhandle you like a ragdoll. Perhaps his words had more than a modicum of truth to them.

“F-Feels so… so… fuck, daddy, feels so good,” You babbled mindlessly, head falling back to the pillows beneath you. He was overwhelming your senses, taking over every corner of your mushy brain. The room was dark and you were still a bit delirious with sleep and to that effect, nothing existed in your world right now but daddy, daddy, daddy…

He laughed softly, pressing a kiss to the spot on your shoulder he’d so harshly bitten earlier, the pace of his thrusts not faltering for a second. “Yeah? I’ll bet it does, judging by the look on you,” He teased, nipping at your throat. “So pretty when you’re all fucked out.”

Your back was arching up off the bed, your eyes rolling back and your walls pulsing around him. Addicted to eliciting pleasured reactions from you, Leon wedged one hand between your two bodies, flattening his palm on your lower belly before pressing down.

Stars. You saw stars. A broken, high-pitched cry ripped from your throat, and you didn’t even have the capacity to hope the neighbors didn’t think you were being murdered, because you didn’t care. You could feel every rigid inch of him inside you, dragging over every nerve, his cock stuffed so deep that you swore you could feel him in your throat. Toes curling and your nails raking down his naked back, tears were beginning to prick at your eyes– you were close.

That was a good thing, though, considering he was too, and he could only hope the wet heat of your release would mask the feeling of his own. Leon sealed his lips over your own once more, swallowing your broken, needy cries as he fucked you to completion, letting his hand fall a little bit lower until his fingertips were on your clit again.

Your body twitched at the stimulation, thighs clamping down tight around his hips as you sobbed into his mouth and soaked his cock with your gushing sex. “Daddy,” You wept, clinging to him for dear life as he fucked you through your high, his own spilling out in sync. “Daddy, daddy, daddy…”

“Shh, I’ve got you, baby, I’m right here,” He cooed, taking your bottom lip playfully between his teeth before pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose. “Just stay put, you’re doing so good for me, angel…”

His hips continued to piston forward as he hoped to force as much of his cum into you as he could manage, while still maintaining the believable illusion of protection. He intended to put every last one of those tampered-with condoms to use, though he wondered silently to himself if you might give up and just let him take you raw once you were to inevitably find out you’re pregnant.

You were a weeping, shivering mess in his arms, thighs clenching and twitching around him as he shushed you and babied you, petting your hair away from your tear-stained face and stamping you with delicate kisses, still stuffing his cum into you with shallow thrusts. He couldn’t wait to see you blossom right before his eyes. He couldn’t wait for you to realize your purpose was right here with him. He couldn’t wait to have you to himself for the rest of your days, his princess.

Leon remained sheathed deep within you, even as he softened, wanting to make sure you stayed plugged up well. But, he also couldn’t resist the warmth and wetness of you, how comforting it felt to be enveloped by you.

“You just stay put right there, okay, princess?” He reiterated quietly, lips brushing over your brow in a loving kiss. “Want you to keep daddy warm for the rest of the night. Can you do that for me?”

As if he even had to ask. You would have done practically anything for him when reduced to such a bleary, agreeable state of mind. He knew you all too well.

You just nodded like a bobblehead, dreamy, doe eyes staring up at him through teary lashes, hanging off his every word like gospel. He tucked you in even closer to his chest, cradling you with such adoration, his hips rocking forward every now and then just to get a reaction out of you, and to remind himself this was real.

He wasn’t at all surprised that you were able to fall asleep like that, stuffed full of cum and sated like a good little princess deserved to be. In a perfect world, you would never have to move again, just stay there in his lap forever and soak up every drop of him you could take.

In the coming weeks, that box of condoms wouldn’t last long. The only thought on his mind day in and day out was bending you over every surface in the apartment, and you thought nothing of it. Of course you noticed his sudden, insatiable lust for you, but you assumed it was a symptom of knowing his beloved girlfriend was just a few short months away from potentially leaving. He was only grasping at every inch of you he could commit to memory, right?

In all fairness to you, you weren’t exactly that far off.

Your tired eyes pried open at the familiar feeling of Leon rutting up against you, gripping at your hips like you would disappear if he didn’t. The morning sun was just barely beginning to peek through the windows and the bed was warm, it was a lovely way to wake up, one you would never get tired of.

Or at least you never thought you would. You loved Leon— and his sexual prowess— very dearly, but you also loved being able to sleep through an entire night without interruption, and you hadn’t been getting much of that over the past several weeks.

“Mnh… Leon, babe,” You grumbled, burying your face back into your pillow. “Not today. I’m exhausted.”

He was taken aback by this at first, and then his expression fell with disappointment. Leon had gotten so used to breeding you dumb every morning before work that he wasn’t confident he could go back to functioning without it. Regardless, Leon knew that continuing his attempt to seduce you while you were this grouchy would be a death sentence, so he opted to take the path of least resistance.

After the moment or two it took for him to process that decision, Leon’s touches quickly shifted from provocative to soothing– he was no longer grasping at your hips but wrapping you up in his arms, pressing gentle kisses to your temple and cheekbone as if to regain your good favor.

You hummed contentedly, relaxing back into his embrace. Leon always warmed up like a heater in the night, and you were more than happy to bask in it. His muscular frame was like a weighted blanket and his presence alone was usually enough to knock you out like a light, but for some reason, you were struggling to fall back asleep. Every second felt like five minutes and despite your best efforts– and your complete and utter exhaustion– sleep refused to reclaim you.

Biting back the urge to blame Leon for waking you up in the first place, you huffed out a breath and rolled over in his arms, hoping the change in position might be just what you needed.

Wrong. Very, very wrong. Something about the movement made you dizzy, nauseous, your stomach twisting into knots. You wanted to say something, but you weren’t even sure what to say. It came on so suddenly that it caught you off guard and you weren’t even fully confident you would be able to get up at first.

You whined his name quietly, nuzzling into his chest and wrenching your eyes shut in an attempt to reorient yourself, your arms closing around your middle instinctively.

“You alright? What’s the matter?” Your sweet boyfriend asked quietly, brows furrowing with concern. He could feel your body trembling against his own, your back rising and falling with short, shallow breaths.

Now it was your throat tightening, too, and the second your mouth started to flood with saliva, you knew what was about to happen. Leon didn’t stop you when you writhed out of his embrace and stumbled out of bed, depending on muscle memory alone to get yourself to the bathroom with how woozy and ill you felt.

You just barely made it to the toilet in time to vomit. The cold tile felt nice on your knees, but the impact, not as much. It wasn’t long before Leon materialized at your side with a glass of water and a cold washcloth to hold over your forehead, rubbing your back and already silently conspiring to call out of work and give his poor, sick angel the princess treatment all day.

You collapsed back into his chest with a deep shudder, reaching for the water in a desperate attempt to wash the taste of bile from your mouth. He ended up grabbing it for you, raising it to your cracked lips and helping you take slow, measured drinks.

“There you go, pup,” He hummed, rocking you gently in his lap, his poor little darling princess. “I’m sorry you’re not feeling well.”

Your eyes fluttered closed, a sense of relief washing over you at last. Maybe you just caught a bug, or ate something your body didn’t agree with, or your stress and exhaustion were finally catching up to you. Surely you would feel better within a few days.

“I’m okay,” You whispered, reaching for his hand and squeezing it affectionately. “Thanks for taking care of me.”

Leon smiled, a burst of warmth spreading through his chest. You couldn’t possibly imagine what that meant to him, considering he chose to interpret it in whatever way felt most validating. After all, no one could take care of you like Leon could, and they wouldn’t have the chance to try, anyway. Not over his dead body.

Stooping down to kiss the crown of your head, Leon’s every word was thick with syrupy sweetness, “My baby, I would be so lost if I didn’t. Taking care of you is like breathing to me.”

And he meant every part of it. He didn’t just mean it, he showed it. He showed it when he held your hair back, and he showed it when you realized you couldn’t even remember when you’d had your last period. He showed it when you sent him to the drugstore in the middle of the night for pregnancy tests, and he showed it when you broke down crying at the results, wondering how this could have happened.

His favorite part was showing it when you tearfully called your parents and told them you were staying in Raccoon City, not because you had found a job, but because you were pregnant.

“I can’t believe they’re choosing to react like this, sweetheart, I’m so sorry. They should be happy for you, and it’s awful that they’re anything but happy for you,” He said, voice low and soothing, tone purposeful. “I’ve got you, princess. I’ve got you. I’m gonna take good care of you and this baby, and we’re gonna be happy. Alright?”

Leon tipped your chin up with his knuckle, making you look at him. Your cheeks were red and your eyes were puffy with tears, droplets still clinging to your little dolly eyelashes.

It was hard not to believe him when he spoke with such conviction, when he looked at you with those rich blue eyes that bled from an endless well of love. The pad of his thumb skimmed over your pouty bottom lip as you unknowingly submitted to his grand design.

#venustext #sintext #resident evil #leon kennedy #yandere!leon kennedy #dark!leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #yandere!leon kennedy x reader #dark!leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x you

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simplyholl · 5 months

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A Night With The Winter Soldier

Summary: You’re sent to be Hydra’s test subject for a new serum.

Pairing: F. Reader x Winter Soldier Bucky

Warnings: Smut. 18+ Only. Minors DNI. Dark Bucky. Non con. Oral. Unprotected sex.

See My Masterlist Here

A/N: I know I don’t usually write for Bucky, but this idea has been stuck in my head for a long time. I’m just tagging my regular tag list, if you’re not into dark fics, please skip! ❤️

Fucked. That’s what you were or at least what you were going to be. You shake your head as you cover your skimpy lingerie with the matching robe your mother gave to you.

Your father is the head scientist for Hydra. He had been working on this experiment for years. He had created a serum that would cause Super Soldiers to want to reproduce. The end result would be a perfect Super Soldier baby. He finally perfected it. Who could be a better test subject than his daughter?

You begged him. You pleaded and cried. It was unfair to expect this of you. But he didn’t care how you felt. He said it was your duty to do as you were told. You didn’t want to make Hydra upset with your family, did you? You knew the horrors that awaited you if you refused. Your best friend, Lilly and her whole family disappeared three years ago when her father refused a command from Hydra. They were brutal and cruel. Sadly, you were used to it.

Hydra came first. Before yourself, before your family, your loyalty had to be unwavering. You knew it wasn’t really your father who had suggested it be you. Your mother told you it was one of the higher ups. He had seen you in your new sundress a few weeks ago and thought you would be perfect to carry the first Super Soldier baby.

It made you sick. How could they do this? You didn’t want to know what would happen if you refused. “At least, he is the strongest Super Soldier. This baby’s genes will be impeccable with the both of you for parents.” Your mother reassured you, as if it would help you feel better.

You weren’t naive. You and the baby would be monitored from the moment you got pregnant. As soon as you gave birth, the child would be ripped from your arms and watched closely. It wouldn’t really be yours.

You take the elevator to the thirteenth floor, heart racing wildly. You were scared. You had seen the Super Soldiers behind glass doors where you were protected from them. Now, you were being offered on a silver platter to the biggest baddest one, like a worm on a hook waiting for a fish to jump after them.

Two guards stand outside the door to the windowless room. Their eyes roam over your barely covered body. They smirk at you as they type in the code to let you in. “Good luck, princess. You’re going to need it.” They evilly laugh as the door opens. Slowly, you walk in, your breath catching in your throat as you hear the steel door bang tightly shut behind you.

The room is dimly lit. A leather chair in one corner, a bed pressed against the wall, there’s a table with a half worked puzzle on it. It was so dreary, your heart aches for the poor guy that called this room home. You walk over to the table, running your hand over the puzzle. That’s when you feel it. Even though you couldn’t see him, you’re not alone. He’s in here with you, hid in the dark corners somewhere. You turn around to find him staring at you.

The Winter Soldier, Bucky Barnes, you had demanded to know his name before you did this. His dark hair hung in waves by his cheeks, his cold blue eyes focused on your body. He was beautiful. You weren’t used to seeing him without the black mask he usually wore. He was shirtless, his silver, metal arm catching your attention. You studied it. The way it looks like it was forcefully put on, the red star on his shoulder. He was always silent, brooding in the shadows. You had never been this close to him.

You reach for his face, wanting to feel him before all this started. His metal arm stops you, cold hand wrapping around your wrist. You squeak when he twists your arm behind your back, walking you toward the table.

He presses you against it, you feel his erection threatening to burst out of his black pants. One swipe of his free hand knocks the puzzle to the floor. Colorful pieces scatter all around you. He lifts you on top of the table, the cold surface making you gasp when your bare legs land on it.

Bucky holds you with his metal arm, the other one makes quick work of your flimsy robe. He grabs your breast through the thin fabric of your lingerie. You squirm under his touch as he pinches your nipple through the lace.

“You don’t know how bad I need this. Been a long time since I’ve had a pretty girl like you in my bed.” You’re shocked when he speaks to you. You had been warned that he wouldn’t talk to you at all. He takes a step back to look at you, zeroing in on your panties.

He pushes your back to the wall, commanding you to stay there. You obey, you didn’t want to upset him and make this worse for yourself. He holds your top in one hand, jerking the material. The sound of it’s ripping, startling you. He was crazy strong. The thought of being manhandled by him sounded better by the second.

Next was your panties, he stripped you of them quickly, pulling you by your legs to the edge of the table. He got on his knees before you, shoving his face to your core. He licks one fat stripe up your center, moaning as he tastes you. He swirls his tongue across your clit, you buck your hips up to get closer.

Bucky pushes you down with his metal arm, ensuring that you wouldn’t be able to move. You accept your fate, laying back as he laps at you. He fucks you with his tongue, his nose rubbing expertly against your sensitive nub. The band tightly wound in your stomach snaps as he drags his wicked tongue across your clit, sucking you between his lips. He doesn’t hold back his moans as your arousal floods his face.

When he emerges, his face is glistening because of you. He wipes it off with the back of his flesh hand. Bucky jerks you off the table, pointing to the cold, cement ground. “On your knees.” You sink down in front of him as he sheds his pants. You’re surprised he hadn’t already taken them off.

You shift on your knees, trying to get comfortable. He could at least offer you a pillow to kneel on or something. You look around, and spot the only one on his bed. You’re about to ask for it, when he pulls your hair roughly, jerking your head toward his throbbing cock. It was huge. The kind of big that would hurt. You open your mouth, trying to take all of him inside.

You choke and gag, spit dribbling down your chin onto your breasts as you struggle. He looks down at you, hand still tangled in your hair. Your jaw aches already and he’s just getting started. He thrusts his hips forward, pushing your head down simultaneously. Tears fill your eyes as he hits the back of your throat. You can’t help the sob that escapes you as he pulls out, only to forcefully push his way back in.

His thumbs follow the tears on your cheeks, your mascara pooling under your eyes making you look like a raccoon. “You look so pretty when you cry.” He coos, while looking at you adoringly. He thrusts three more times, your nails dig into his thighs, a silent plea to stop. He finally pulls out, collecting you from the floor and gently placing you on his bed.

He places one leg over his shoulder, lining himself up at your entrance. He pushes inside and it’s too much. “It’s- you’re too big.” You explain. Bucky moves your other leg, spreading you wider. “You’re gonna take all of it.” He grunts, wedging himself inside you, bottoming out with one thrust. He ignores your pained scream, leaning down to lick your fresh tears.

“So tight. So perfect. Just for me.” He praises in your ear. Finally, the pain subsides. Bucky feels incredible, his thick cock dragging against the spot that makes your head swim. A gush of arousal soaks him as he swirls his metal thumb in circles on your clit.

“Look at you, such a good girl, dripping all over my cock.” You moan, clenching around him, your long nails clawing his back, drawing blood as your second orgasm rips through you. His thrusts grow sloppy as you feel him go still inside you. His hot cum, drips down your legs as he withdraws himself from you.

Bucky swipes it with his index finger, rubbing it with his thumb. He brings it to your lips, you swirl your tongue around his long digit, loving the way he tastes. You’re caught off guard when his icy, metal hand collects as much cum as he can, stuffing it back inside you.

You twitch, trying to pull away from the cold hand on your heat. “Ah ah ah.” He scolds. He presses his cool thumb to your clit, toying with the oversensitive pearl. “You have to take every drop.” When he’s satisfied with his work, he makes you lay on your back so it doesn’t drip back out.

You close your eyes, the sweet promise of sleep taking over you. You are almost in dream land when you feel the familiar nudge of Bucky’s cock at your sore center. “What are you doing?” You ask, too tired to fight him. “I’m not finished with you yet, doll.” He smiles wickedly, snapping his hips to fill you again.

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ichorai · 6 months

Text

weave ; coriolanus snow.

pairing ; young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader (gender-neutral)

synopsis ; there was a rose in his hand, you realized. white, just like the one he gave to you when he first met your parents. but it wasn’t for you, since he had yet to hand it over— you figured it was for lucy gray. you would’ve thought it was sweet of him, if only you hadn’t been aware of his motivations to gain her trust. still, you’d be a hypocrite if you criticized him for it. you’d also brought something for your tribute.

words ; 6.8k

themes ; mild fluff/angst, action

warnings / includes ; themes of classism, violence/injury, lucky flickerman is a close family friend of reader's, coryo's paranoia, he's not exactly toxic yet but the seeds are very much planted, i tried to keep him in character as best i could </3

a/n ; there will be a fourth part loosely following the events of the movie (obv tweaked for the fic!)

series masterlist. main masterlist.

It was humiliating, how nervous he was. Reaping day. The Plinth prize was just a whisper away—he could nearly taste it: phantom traces of rich chocolate and edible gold on his dry tongue.

The day before the exams, you’d pulled him into the library for one last study session. You whispered that you would botch one of your papers for him—he certainly needed the Plinth prize more than you. And though he knew that you’d be far more deserving of it (your grades were near impeccable, and impossible for him to try and compete with), he also knew that his pride wouldn’t ever recover from such a blow.

Because how could he face you after that? Knowing that he was… inferior?

And so he told you not to squander your own achievements for him—that he’d figure something out. You spared him a hesitant look, before turning back to your books.

Now that the exams were over and done with, Coriolanus briefly wondered if you went ahead and botched it anyway. An irrational sort of anger flared within his chest. Did you think you were better than him? That he was your charity case?

But all those terrible thoughts—the nastiness sweltering in his chest for days after the exams—dissolved almost immediately after seeing you.

You met him in front of the academy, your dress a lovely shade of crimson, angular at your shoulders but tapering down into flowing ripples below your waist. Like fire, almost. You were glowing, he was sure of it, with the way the sun illuminated only the best of your features—the slope of your nose, the curling of your lips, the glimmer in your eyes.

“Coriolanus,” you greeted with faux formality, tilting your head to the side. He was wearing his dress shirt again—the very one you watched Tigris mend and sew and tinker many, many times. Pinned to his waistcoat was another red rose, matching the shade of your own attire.

He mirrored you, sweeping into a low bow and brandishing another rose out of seemingly nowhere. “For you, darling. Grandma’am said she could spare it—special occasion and all.”

“Oh, don’t call me that,” you said, rolling your eyes at the ridiculous pet name. It was what your parents called each other when they thought nobody was around to hear it—it made you feel old. “And tell Grandma’am thank you. It’s beautiful.”

He smiled, stepping forward to slot the rose behind your ear. “Ready for your Plinth prize?” he asked, fingers lingering by your face, thumb stroking down your jaw.

You sucked in a breath. “I don’t think it’s going to be what either of us expect.”

There was a brief pause. Coriolanus’ eyes narrowed. Had you botched your exams for him?

With a pointed glance to the academy halls, you nudged him forward. “Come on. Everyone’s already inside. Clemmie keeps asking for you.”

The two of you made your way in, weaving between red-uniformed academy students (the ones who weren’t at the very top) and professors. Behind another set of double doors were where all the top-ranking students were mingling. Sipping on bubbling glasses of colorful drinks, picking off delicate foods from ceramic plates.

While Snow was stolen away from you by a few other classmate acquaintances, Sejanus was the first to greet you, shaking your hand enthusiastically. His palms were sweating. You didn’t quite mind. “Congratulations on finishing exams, Y/N. I know how hard you’ve been studying.”

You flashed him a genuine smile. “Congrats to you, too. I’m surprised you’re here at all, actually. I know how you feel about the reaping.”

His expression faltered. “Ma made me come. Moral support for my friends, and all.”

Ma. The word sounded foreign and heavy on the tongue. Unfamiliar… but rather inviting. Homely, in a way. Despite your initial silence, you managed to recover just fine. In a lowered voice, you whispered to him, “Well, my mother thinks it’s a rather dreadful affair. A waste of potential talent, sending children to their deaths, she says. I can’t help but agree with her. Father thinks it’s necessary, though.”

Sejanus pursed his lips. No doubt questioning the necessity of watching the people he knew from his childhood in the district getting brutally murdered. It looked like he was going to say something else, but before he could, Arachne’s high-pitched voice cut through the two of you. You grimaced, catching Coriolanus’ eyes as he stood right behind her. Judging by his mildly annoyed countenance, he wasn’t having a very good time chatting to her, either.

“Spill it, Sejanus,” she demanded in a prissy tone. “Who won the prize?”

The dark curls on Sejanus’ head shook as he silently scoffed. “Oh, no, I’m not going to ruin my father’s big day. No one here actually likes him but they do love his money… you know what that’s like, don’t you, Arachne?”

Her nose wrinkled in part-contempt, part-disgust. “Funny,” she deadpanned.

Coriolanus stepped around her so he could curl an arm over your waist. “We all know who’s going to win it, anyway.” His grip squeezed over the smooth fabric of your dress.

Arachne rolled her eyes and marched away, off to find someone else to bother.

Left with just the two of you, Sejanus dipped his head and muttered, “Look, I know you guys have had high hopes for this but… there’s no prize. Not anymore.”

There was a terse pause. Your head reared back incredulously, searching Sejanus’ expression for any signs of fibbing. Then you looked to Coriolanus, eyes wide.

“What?” he asked, words sharp, looking almost offended.

“I’m so sorry—”

Before Sejanus could finish his sentence, loud trumpets echoed throughout the hall and all the students began making their way to the plush velvet seats laid out in front of the podium. Coriolanus’ hand slipped away from you, balling into a tight, pale fist. You sat down first, Sejanus going on your right, Coriolanus to your left. Clemensia was on his other side, flashing you an attractive smile. You couldn’t find it in you to smile back.

If there was no prize, what were they going to dole out instead? A free holiday, all expenses paid? A new television? A pair of fuzzy socks?

Your rather prickly thoughts were interrupted when a woman stepped up behind the podium. She was dressed in lavish plum robes, intricate beige patterns weaving through the threads. From afar, it looked like there was flesh stitched onto the fabric. Her hair was greyed and a calculated sort of haphazard. One of her eyes was beady and blue, the other dark and large, almost eclipsing any of the white bits.

She tapped the microphone once, earning herself a buzz of feedback, and tittered with unnerving laughter. Volumnia Gaul was what she introduced herself as. Her voice was low and gravelly. When she went on to say that she was the head gamemaker, your and Coriolanus' heads both snapped to Sejanus, but his gaze was fixed onto the ground, face grim.

After a bit more faddering about the future, Dr. Gaul introduced the creator of the games and dean of the academy—Casca Highbottom. He sauntered forward from somewhere within the seats, mind very clearly addled with a drug of some sorts. Morphling, you’d wager.

“I can’t believe they still allow him to speak in public,” Clemensia said to Coriolanus amusedly. He didn’t spare her a response.

He dragged on his little speech, as if he took pleasure in dangling the golden carrot in front of the donkey. Your hands twitched in an antsy fashion, and you neatly folded them over your lap.

“My own twenty-four top prospects. All waiting to hear the results of your hard studying in this prestigious institution, eager to know who’s won that Plinth prize, no doubt. And a golden future, with it.” He catered forward with a slurred laugh. “However… I’m here to tell you all that there’s been a change this year.”

Murmurs rippled throughout the crowd. Coriolanus’ chin lifted higher, back straightening.

“One last assignment to prove your worth,” Highbottom continued on. He began to pace back and forth, reminiscent to that of a caged tiger. “The esteemed citizens of the Capitol simply aren’t watching anymore. And if the games are to continue at all, there must be an audience, no?”

More murmuring. Your eyes narrowed. Twenty-four top students… twenty-four tributes…

Oh, no.

You sucked in a quiet, barely noticeable inhale with the realization. It was enough for Coriolanus’ eyes to land on you, but you were staring at Sejanus, as if trying to get him to hear your thoughts.

Tell me it isn’t true. Tell me we won’t have to play a hand in such a barbaric game.

“Head gamemaker Dr. Gaul has stepped in to… incentivize patriotic values with her own unique flair, starting with you. The Plinth prize will no longer be determined by who has the best grades.”

For a moment, Highbottom’s gaze drifted over to you. Somewhere behind you, you could hear Arachne’s affronted, “Excuse me?”

You weren’t quite sure why she was upset. It’s not like she had a chance with the prize if it were grade-based.

“Instead, it will be decided by who is the best mentor in the hunger games.”

Your jaw clenched. Clemensia appeared bewildered. Coriolanus looked shaken. Sejanus was visibly distraught.

“As the reaping begins, I will allocate each one of the top twenty-four Capitol students a district tribute. A figure behind the scenes—one who must persuade them to perform for the cameras.”

This was met by a barrage of questions and protests from the students. Highbottom waved most of them away.

“Your role is to turn these children into spectacles. Not survivors… victory in the games is only one of the considerations. Your entire future rests on this last project.”

It was a terrible thing to imagine. Two dozen district lives in exchange for a bit of cruel entertainment for the Capitol. You were never fond of it, but you kept quiet on the matter because you had the luxury of turning your head away. Turning the television off and straying away from such brutalities.

But now that you were being forced to look—no, more than that—you were being forced to pull strings, it was altogether a nauseating thought.

“Oh, and I must warn you… anyone caught cheating to give their tributes an unfair advantage…” Highbottom’s spectacled eyes swept over the lot of students. “Well, they’d just have no future at all.”

More trumpets rang throughout the hall.

The Dean clapped his hands together. “Here we go! Let the reaping ceremony begin!”

Two large screens hanging over the podium lit up for the first district—a tall boy on the left, a sallow-faced girl on the right. Dean Highbottom began to list off student names as mentors.

To none of your surprise, Sejanus got the male tribute from district two. Coriolanus shot him a thinly-veiled, wry smile over your shoulder. “You got the pick of the litter.”

Sejanus refused to meet his gaze. “You forget… I’m part of the litter.”

On the names rattled—districts three, four, five, six, and seven all passing by in a blur.

Juno Phipps was called out for district eight’s male tribute. She sat somewhere behind you, and you could hear her puff a sigh of disappointment.

Then your name came straight after.

Your head snapped from Highbottom to the screen, eyes widening.

Wovey, her name was. She was a small little thing—you could see her frail, skeletal figure even through a grainy screen from afar. The striped dress she wore was patchy and frayed, darkened with soot and dirt. How old was she? She was probably one of the youngest tributes yet—you’d guess that she was barely thirteen, maybe even twelve. Something in your stomach jolted. Momentarily, you’d forgotten that this little girl was meant to be your school project.

District eight. The textiles sector. You blinked at the screen and shifted uncomfortably in your expensive-tailored dress—a dress that very likely came from the very same district.

Highbottom called out names for the next district. Clemensia was pleased with her large, burly tribute from the eleventh district. Coriolanus was yet to be mentioned. You glanced over at him, before reaching out to take his hand. He didn’t look at you, but squeezed your palm in what you read to be silent gratitude.

And finally—with only one tribute left, Highbottom coughed out what sounded to be a laugh. “The runt girl from district twelve… she belongs to Coriolanus Snow.”

The grip he had on your hand tightened until it was bordering on painful. You said nothing about it. Highbottom had always been a grouchy man, but he seemed to have a fixation on making Coriolanus’ life as tormentable as possible.

Lucy Gray Baird.

You watched the screen in fascination when a woman sauntered out from the ranks. Her hair was dark and curly, unruly in a way that suited her perfectly. Upon further scrutiny, you noticed small wildflowers woven through the strands, limp with time. She wore makeup, which wasn’t something you often saw in tributes. A deep blue eyeshadow and slightly-smudged rouge on her cheeks and lips. But what really caught your attention, however, was the dress she was wearing. It was a startling contrast to her name—with its bright, colorful ruffles on her skirt, the front of her corset bearing lovely details of flowers and vines.

She was beautiful.

“What is that dress?” sneered Arachne, in an obvious attempt to rile Coriolanus up. “Is she some sort of clown?”

But suddenly, Lucy Gray stepped out of her path towards the stage and grabbed a girl to her right. Or, more accurately, the girl’s collar. She promptly dropped something down her dress and hurried off. Screams erupted from the screen as the girl writhed with terror, screaming for someone to, “Get it out! Get it out!”

Coriolanus stood abruptly, letting your hand go. You hadn’t noticed just how much feeling you’d lost in your arm, and gingerly shook it back to life.

The grainy screen showed a small snake skitter out of the bottom of her dress.

When Lucy Gray finally made it up on the stage, she was harshly struck across the face by district twelve’s mayor. The blow made her head crack to the side and she went tumbling down. You frowned, but couldn’t take your eyes away.

It took two peacekeepers to haul the furious mayor away. You mutely realized that the girl was the mayor’s daughter.

Lucy Gray laid there, face aching.

And then—singing. A small voice from within the crowd. Five seconds later, another joined. And another, and another. Even through the screen, when Lucy Gray tilted her bruised face up and struggled back onto her feet, you could see the pain in her eyes. Was that her family singing for her?

The woman made her way to the microphone. She began to sing with a quivering lip. Her voice was soft and smooth, silken to your ears.

“She’s singing?” Arachne commented in a pinched tone. “Is she out of her mind?”

“Shut up, Arachne,” you turned to snap at her. She made a strangled noise in the back of her throat, but didn’t say anything else, to your relief.

Coriolanus watched the screen with unsettled eyes. A million thoughts rushed through his mind at once. Most unpleasant, many rageful, some curious.

And to bring her singing to a sudden halt, Lucy Gray screamed into the microphone.

“YOU CAN KISS MY ASS!”

The students burst into laughter, incredulous gasps, and scandalized murmurs. Coriolanus glanced around. He met your eyes, and you gave him half an amused smile. His tribute knew how to put on a show, that was for sure.

He smiled back, and turned to the screen once more.

Lucy Gray lowered herself into a deep bow for the audience. District and Capitol alike.

What an intriguing girl, you thought.

“She’s mentally ill,” Arachne buzzed.

It took every bit of your willpower not to turn around and strike her across the face. But you thought back to the furious mayor, and of the little girl you were supposed to mentor, and kept your hands folded neatly over your lap.

You found yourself at the Snow penthouse that night. There was nothing to study, not anymore, so you lounged on a rickety chair and watched Tigris sew together pieces of blue fabric. She wanted to make you a dress, and though you had more than enough of your own, you couldn’t ever say no to her. Being around her took your mind off of the games, even for just a few minutes.

Coriolanus, however, was pacing back and forth in front of the two of you. Muttering angrily under his breath, nose twitching with disdain.

“He’s sabotaging us. That girl’s never going to win the games,” he hissed, plucking the rose off of his waistcoat and tugging at its petals. They fluttered down to the floor. “You saw her, didn’t you? She’s underfed. Unstable.”

Pot, meet kettle.

You pursed your lips. “Highbottom said you’re meant to make a performance out of them. It isn’t just about winning.”

“Everything is about winning!” he asserted, carding a frustrated hand through his flaxen tresses. “If not the games, then the crowd. And Lucy Gray won’t survive a minute inside that arena.”

You sighed. Little Wovey didn’t seem too likely to survive, either. She wasn’t a fighter by any means. Maybe she was a fast runner?

“So that means we have to make every second before then count.” Coriolanus reached out to cup your face, and you leaned into his touch, kissing his palm. Tigris shot the two of you a side glance and smiled to herself.

“What’re you planning?” you asked.

“I’ll make her sing again,” he said, sounding so sure of himself.

This made Tigris’ brows cinch together. “I wouldn’t sing a note for you if I was her. I wouldn’t do anything at all… not unless I knew I could trust you.”

Coriolanus regarded his cousin with a cynical stare. “She’s district, Tigris. She knows we hate her and she wants us dead. How am I supposed to get her to trust me?”

“We?” you echoed, shaking your head. “I don’t hate her. I don’t even know her. Do you?”

“I—”

You lifted up a hand, effectively cutting him off. “Do you know her, Coriolanus?”

His jaw set with a click. You had your answer.

“How can you hate someone you don’t know? Look, you don’t have to like her. Just convince her that you do.” You crossed your arms, thinking of the little girl you were meant to mentor. It was going to be hard to like her, anyway, knowing that she was going to die soon. You wouldn’t let yourself get attached.

Tigris nodded emphatically. She paused her needlework and looked up at her cousin. “Imagine it was your name they pulled, and you were ripped from your home. I’d just want to know if somebody still cared about me out here. Don’t discount her just because she’s district, Coryo. You might have more in common with her than you think.”

Coriolanus plucked the last rose petal from the stem. You watched him with soft eyes, before drawing yourself up to your feet.

“I think it’s time I head home. My family’s got dinner with the Flickermans tomorrow.” You placed a limp hand on his jaw and kissed his cheek, then drifted down to kiss his shoulder. He smelled distinctly of roses—a fresh sort of musk.

Just as you were about to pull away, he rested his hands on your forearms, rooting you to the same spot. “We should greet them at the station. Show them that they can trust us.”

You searched his face for genuinity. It wasn’t an entirely terrible idea.

“You sure?” you asked. It wasn’t a secret just how uncomfortable Coriolanus was around district folk.

“Yeah. We can… get ahead of the other students. You’re way more approachable than me, anyway. Maybe they’ll like you more,” Snow offered. A part of you wondered what he’d do if you said no.

The thought of meeting your assigned tribute made your stomach do somersaults. Finally, you nodded. “Okay. I’ll meet you at the station, then?”

Snow smiled in a charming manner. He dipped forward to slant his lips over yours, and you melted into his touch, almost forgetting that Tigris was there—until she made a noise of disgust and told the two of you, “Eugh! Do that somewhere else, please!”

Coriolanus was there before you, sticking out like a sore thumb in his academy red against the cold, rusted metals of the train cars. You wore a dark coat over your uniform, trying to look a little more discreet.

“Are they here yet?” you asked, steps quickening to him. He took your hand and squeezed.

“Anytime now.”

The two of you stood shoulder-to-shoulder as you waited, exchanging light conversation. There was a rose in his hand, you realized. White, just like the one he gave to you when he first met your parents. But it wasn’t for you, since he had yet to hand it over— you figured it was for Lucy Gray. You would’ve thought it was sweet of him, if only you hadn’t been aware of his motivations to gain her trust. Still, you’d be a hypocrite if you criticized him for it. You’d also brought something for your tribute.

A juice box. Grape. Still cold, beading with condensation.

You wondered if they had juice boxes out in district eight.

Another train rolled to a grueling halt to the track on your left. The cars were due for a good scrubbing, you thought. They were absurdly filthy—you weren’t even sure what its original color was meant to be.

Peacekeepers stepped up, disregarding the two of you, and began yanking the doors open. There were disgruntled noises coming from inside, and a few minutes later, the grey soldiers were pulling out the tributes.

You searched through the small crowd frantically. The boy from 11th—Reaper, you recalled his name was—caught your eye and just about snarled. You tried your best to ignore him.

When you found the little girl, little Wovey, you slipped away from Coriolanus and stepped forward. In your peripheral vision, you spotted him moving towards Lucy Gray.

Wovey was staring at a particularly uninteresting spot on the ground. She had her skinny arms wound around her midriff as if she was cold, despite the warm temperature that morning. When your shadow fell over her, her large, tearful eyes slid up to meet yours.

“Hello, Wovey,” you whispered in what you hoped was a welcoming, not-at-all-intimidating voice. You told her your name, making sure to enunciate the syllables slowly, so she’d have no problem repeating it back. She didn’t, but perhaps she would later. “I’m your mentor.”

“Mender?” Her voice quaked.

“Mentor. I’ll be helping you in the arena, during the game. Here, I have something for you.” You reached inside your coat, eyeing the peacekeepers warily. Either they didn’t notice, or they were just pretending not to. You wondered how many of them knew your father. “Do you guys have juice boxes back where you live?”

You held out the cold little box for her to take. She blinked at it warily.

“It’s grape,” you said.

She reached out and took it from you. You offered her a gentle smile, and she mirrored you with a shy grin.

“Can I share it?” she croaked. Wovey looked back at the male tribute from the same district—Bobbin. Were they friends?

“Of course, sweetheart,” you said warmly.

Sweetheart? Where’d that come from?

The peacekeepers began rounding up the tributes, shoving them in the direction of a truck. You dipped your head at one of the grey soldiers as he took Wovey’s arm.

“Be gentle with her,” you told the peacekeeper. He met you with a stoic expression, but nodded once, before urging Wovey onward.

It was hard to tear your eyes away from her, but you forced yourself to do so, bounding towards Coriolanus and—

“Lucy Gray,” you greeted, just before saying your own name as you moved to stand beside Snow. Her dress looked even brighter in person, even if it was caked in filth. “I hope Coriolanus hasn’t scared you off yet.”

“Who’s this?” she asked, her dark eyes flitting from Snow to you. “Another mentor?”

“Mmh. Not yours though. I’m dedicated to the little girl from district eight,” you replied.

There was something in her eyes that softened.

“You’ll take care of her?” she asked.

You exchanged an uncertain glance with Coriolanus. “I’ll try my best to. Just like my boyfriend here for you.”

“Boyfriend, huh? Y’all make an attractive couple, that’s for sure.” Lucy Gray smiled, wide and genuine. It faded instantaneously once she spotted a peacekeeper approaching. She plucked the rose from Coriolanus’ unsuspecting hands. “Well… good luck with that.”

The soldier grabbed her by the arm and shoved her into the direction of the car.

Coriolanus stepped forward. “Wait, no—I, hey, I’d like to escort my tribute—”

They all ignored him. You pursed your lips, before following behind two of the soldiers, peeking around the bend. The truck’s doors were wide open for you to slip into. Snow met your eyes when you beckoned him over.

“We can sneak in,” you whispered. “When they’re not looking.”

“Are you insane? We don’t know where they’re going!” he responded in a lowered voice, taking your arm, not unsimilar to how the peacekeepers grabbed the tributes. “I don’t want you getting hurt because of me.”

“They won’t hurt me,” you told him. It didn’t dawn on you that Coriolanus was referring to the district tributes, not the peacekeepers. Quick and chaste, you pressed a kiss to his lips. “You coming?”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. He blew out a frustrated breath, before letting you go and giving you the green light by motioning for you to get a move on. Nerves peaking with adrenaline, you glanced around again, satisfied that no peacekeepers were looking, and rushed into the truck. You felt Coriolanus’ chest brush against your back as he hurried in after you.

You hid in the shadows of the trucks’ slants just as the peacekeepers slammed it shut. A victorious smile stretched your lips thin. You made it.

Oh, your father was going to murder you. Snow first, maybe, and then you. Your mother would probably find the situation all too funny. Though, as you found all the tributes’ eyes locked on you and Coriolanus, you realized that it probably wasn’t funny at all, not in the slightest.

“Hello,” you said in an awfully wavering voice. Coriolanus echoed your sentiment, looking as if he’d seen a ghost.

“What��s the matter, pretty boy?” Reaper asked him with a scowl. “You in the wrong cage?”

“No,” he responded with a minute shrug. “This cage is delightful.”

The truck practically swayed as Reaper stormed closer to him. You instinctively grabbed his forearm, pulling him back. But clearly not quick enough, seeing as Reaper grabbed the lapels of Snow’s academy uniform, shoving him up against the wall with a loud thud. Coriolanus let out an oomf with the impact, blinking sudden white stars out of his vision.

“I’ll kill you right now!” Reaper hissed.

“He’ll do it, too,” warned Dill. The girl from his same district. “Reaper killed a peacekeeper back in eleven.”

“I say we kill them both!” another tribute from somewhere behind sneered.

“I’m in. Nothing left to lose now.”

You stood frozen, afraid that one wrong move would send Reaper into a frenzy. Instead, you spoke calm and clear, “We’re here to help.” Your eyes found Lucy Gray’s, then traveled over to Wovey, squeezed in the corner. “We want to help you.”

Crossing her arms, Lucy Gray said, “Y’all got family back home? They’ll kill them if you hurt a hair on their pretty Capitol heads. Then you. ‘Sides… the blonde one’s my mentor. I might need him.”

One of the tributes from district four curled her lip in contempt. “How come you get one?”

“You all get one!” Snow told her, which earned him another enraged shove by Reaper.

She guffawed—Coral, yes, that was her name—with incredulity. “What, and we’re just supposed to believe you?”

“Why else would we get in here with you?” you said, exasperated. “We don’t even know where they’re taking you guys.”

Coral cocked a brow so high it nearly disappeared behind her choppy bangs. “Whose mentor are you?”

You limply waved your fingers at Wovey. “District eight’s girl.”

“So how come Skinny and Rainbow get special treatment? Why aren’t my mentors here?” Coral leaned down towards Lucy Gray in a taunting fashion, barely glancing over at Wovey.

Lucy Gray smiled, all toothy. “They just got inspired, I guess.”

A moment later, a loud rumbling came from outside the truck. Had they already arrived? There was a whir, and the whole truck began to tilt downward. The doors swung open and shocked gasps echoed throughout the metal cavern.

Reaper relinquished his grip on Snow to grab hold of Dill, and you launched yourself at Coriolanus, trying your best to grapple onto the grooves in the walls so you wouldn’t slip. Lucy Gray yelled as her foot slipped and she went toppling down—

You grabbed her hand, grunting with the combined weight of two people. Coriolanus’ grip on the wall slipped, and he bumped into you, causing your fingers to fumble.

The three of you went rolling down, out of the truck, back into the blinding sunlight. Your shoulder hit the ground hard, another sharp rock digging painfully into your back. That’d definitely bruise later. Disoriented, you dragged yourself up from the ground, frowning at the stinging sensation in your legs. Coriolanus was next to you the next second, grabbing at your face and arms, asking if you were alright. You nodded a few times, before pushing him away to see if the tributes were okay.

All of them were dizzy and aching, but other than that—seemed just fine. Or, as fine as they could be, given the circumstances.

Only then did you look around your surroundings. Metal fencing, dirt pen, discarded tires—Capitol citizens watching with wide, curious eyes. You caught sight of the Capitol Zoo’s insignia on an ice cream stand just past the fencing.

“Ugh,” Coriolanus muttered, pale blonde hair properly tousled over his forehead. “What are all these people doing, staring at us? Don’t they have anything better to do? Don’t they have jobs? The children should be in school. It’s no wonder this country is in shambles.”

“The kids are on summer break, Coryo,” you deadpanned, shirking off your dark coat to give it a good dusting.

Then, a familiar voice made your head snap towards the crowd.

Cameras. Mustache. Coin flip.

“We’ll just give them a chance to stand up and catch their breath—I do have to admit I’m jealous of that big entrance! I’m Lucretius “Lucky” Flickerman, a man who needs no introduction.”

Oh, he certainly didn’t. He and your mother were tight-knit buddies when they went to school together, making the Flickermans good family friends. This was beyond embarrassing.

“Guess where I am today, folks! That’s right, the Capitol Zoo, where this year’s tributes will be held here, on display behind these bars for your viewing pleasure! That’s right, all twenty-four of them—” That was when he turned to point, and his eyes landed on you and Coriolanus. His words faltered. “What in Panem—is that academy rouge I see?”

You stiffly waved at the camera. Absent-mindedly, you passed a hand over your head to fix your hair.

“Hey, Mr. Flickerman,” you called out with a grimace.

Lucky’s eyes bugged out of his head. He exclaimed your name in part-confusion, part-shock. “Hey, what’re you doing in there, kiddo? Who’s that dashing young man with you? We’re live!” He jutted a thumb back at the camera, its lens facing straight at you.

You spared him a stiff smile, eye twitching. Oh, your father was going to pop a blood vessel, you were sure.

“Uhm… well, uh—” The words caught in your throat and you lowered your voice so only Coriolanus could hear you. You had to ignore Lucky’s constant calls for your attention. “What do we do?”

His blue eyes, even paler in the bright sunlight, roamed over the onlookers. “We do what Highbottom told us to do,” he said, rolling his shoulders. He nudged you in the direction of Wovey, and began setting off for Lucy Gray. “We put on a show.”

You watched as the two, mentor and tribute, made their way to the fencing. As if there was a flip of a switch inside him, Coriolanus began to charm the onlookers and children, showing off his pearly whites, introducing himself and his rambunctious tribute. The children were enamoured with Lucy Gray, it seemed, judging by the way they bubbled over with questions about the snake, her colorful dress, her singing.

Lucky was having the time of his life interviewing them. If not for the current situation at hand—that being you trapped in a zoo enclosure—you would’ve laughed at his earnest excitement. Being a weatherman, a reporter, and an amateur-magician was apparently growing far too monotonous for someone with as large a personality as Lucretius Flickerman.

After much deliberation and cheek-biting, you turned and made your way toward Wovey, who was sitting down next to Bobbin on a tree stump. You noted the purple juice box, now crumpled and empty, discarded on the ground between them.

“Hey, guys,” you said, lowering down to one knee to speak to Wovey. “Do you want to go introduce yourself, sweetheart? Win over the Capitol citizens’ hearts?”

The young girl screwed up her face. Whether it was from shyness or distaste, you weren’t quite sure. Perhaps both.

“I’ll be there with you. I promise,” you told her, holding your palm out for her to take.

Tentative, Wovey slipped off of the stump and clutched onto your hand. The two of you approached the barriers, with her nearly hiding behind you, clutching onto your coat.

Lucy Gray told the growing audience about her Covey family, a group of traveling musicians, and how she wasn’t actually from district twelve. Snow watched her with a somewhat proud, victorious expression.

Lucky noticed you approaching, beckoning for the cameras to follow him as he made his way over to you.

Quickly, he covered the top of the mic to lean forward and whisper, “Is the academy aware of what you’re doing?”

“No. Nobody told us not to, though.”

Lucky regarded you knowingly. “And does your father know about this little escapade of yours?”

“No,” you replied, frown-smiling.

“Ooh. Good luck with that.” He spared you an amused wince. Then, he uncovered the microphone and gave the cameras another brilliant smile, introducing you with a flourish of his hands. “I’m here with a close personal friend of mine, Y/N L/N. And here we have their tribute, yes? Who might you be, young lady?”

You tried your best to encourage Wovey out of her shyness, going so far as to pat her shoulder and to gently push back the thin strands of hair falling in front of her face. She croaked out her name and her district, and Lucky asked her another myriad of overwhelming questions.

Whilst the crowd around the ever-charming Lucy Gray was watching her with curiosity and awe, the audience you were gathering looked upon Wovey with pity and something mildly akin to empathy.

There were perks to getting the youngest tribute, maybe.

She was telling them about how she liked to climb trees back in district eight. Yes, that’d be useful in the games.

You looked over to see Coriolanus observing you with your tribute. He gave you a nod, perhaps a second too late. The man found himself wondering if he could somehow garner the crowd’s sympathy using Lucy Gray, too. How’d you manage to do that?

Before he could spare another thought on the matter, there was a dim buzzing coming from across the enclosure. A door opened, and four peacekeepers marched in.

“Looks like you’re going to get whisked away, kiddo,” Lucky told you, nodding behind. “Tell your mother I said hello. And make sure to take a nice, long shower before dinner tonight. Don’t want the smell of zoo hovering over my steak.”

You rolled your eyes as Lucky chuckled at his own quips, then looked down at Wovey with a far softer expression.

“I’ll be back. I’ll come back with more for you. Just hold on for me, okay?”

The frail girl nodded. She didn’t seem to want to let go of you, even when the peacekeepers began to semi-forcefully lead you away, out of the enclosure. Coriolanus wasn’t far behind, being manhandled far more aggressively than you were.

The soldiers shoved you out the door and shut it with a heavy click of a lock, before marching off to the sides.

Coriolanus reached out for you, hands resting on your elbows. “How was it?”

“Could’ve gone worse.” You studied his features. There was a faint trace of dirt smudged across his jaw—no doubt acquired somewhere in the truck or when everyone came tumbling out.

The two of you stared at each other for a moment longer, until you shook your head and broke into a smile, accompanied by a breathy laugh.

“Lucky called you a dashing young man.”

“He’s ridiculous,” he scoffed, and tugged you along to start walking. “Do you think either of us have a chance? At winning?”

The smile melted off your expression, and you grew somber once more. “Well… anything can happen in the arena. We just need to be smart about it. Neither of our tributes are fighters.”

Coriolanus stared off into the distance, brows cinched, heavy with thought.

“They’ll need to be,” he said. “Surviving isn’t enough. Not in these games.”

Your lips parted, wondering what in Panem he could mean by that. Did he really expect Lucy Gray to become a killer overnight? Or was he planning for her to do something else? He didn’t seem to notice your perturbed disposition, and kissed the side of your head.

Just as Coriolanus walked you to your doorstep, you gripped his hands, and your tone suddenly became very serious.

“I just wanted to tell you—before Highbottom announced the mentoring change, I was sure one of us would win the Plinth prize. And, well, I was going to give you the money if it came to me because I definitely wouldn’t need it. But now, since there’s a good chance neither of us are getting it…”

Snow’s features twisted with evident dismay.

You squeezed his hands with yours. “I can get my parents to pay your university tuition, if neither of us get that Plinth prize. Please, Coryo, don’t take this as charity. Take it because I care about you. I don’t want you to get caught up in… winning these games. Whatever you’re planning for Lucy Gray… I can’t see it being anything she’d be willing to do.”

It might’ve been a trick of light, but you could’ve sworn you saw an irksome glint flash across his eyes. He bitterly came to the conclusion that you probably did botch one of your exams for him—not that that mattered now. Besides, it was you offering money, not him begging for it. The placating thought made it easier for his features to slip into a reassuring, easy softness.

“I appreciate the offer, I really do,” Snow said, cradling your face as if you were a fragile piece of china. Yet his touch felt bruising all the same. “But you shouldn’t worry. I don’t think Lucy Gray is going to win. Not on her own, at least. So I’m going to help her—and Highbottom is going to regret ever trying to make an enemy of me.”

He dipped forward, brushed a whisper of a kiss along your cheek, and swiped his thumb over your bottom lip.

And then he was gone.

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow fluff #coriolanus snow x you #hunger games fanfiction #coriolanus snow drabbles #tbosas fanfiction #tbosas x reader #young!coriolanus snow x reader #young!coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow angst

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messylustt · 1 year

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hii since u said you’d do something for stilinski can i request a fic where the alpha twins were just introduced and stiles and reader (best friends) like each other (everyone in the pack knows but them) and reader thinks stiles doesn’t like her so they start hanging out with the twins more and stiles gets jealous and it’s like a angry love confession and maybe smut?

++ thank u so much for taking the time to read & write this!! your writing is actually making me happy as sappy as that sounds💗💗

you’re my friend, not theirs — stiles stilinski + reader ( teen wolf ) : stiles getting jealous over the blooming friendship between you and the twins.

contents : jealous!stiles. kissing. sorry no actual p in v. i need to watch teen wolf again — that shit was gooood, and thank you so much ur actually so sweettt

"I want one." Lydia said, eyes focused behind you and Allison.

You both turn in your chairs to see the two new twins talking by a bookshelf. "Which one?" Allison asked, turning back. You kept your gaze on the twins, mainly for the fact that they were said—by your strange friend group—to be alphas.

Why they chose to go to school you could only guess. Most likely not to actually enjoy classes, but to keep an eye on said strange friend group.

"The straight one." You answered for Lydia. "I'd hope." You turn back in your chair to see Lydia narrowing her eyes.

You smile, just as Stiles slumps in the free chair beside you. Scott taking one beside Lydia. You glance back around at the twins, tilting your head in a slight observation.

Then you feel a poke on your arm. You turn your head to face Stiles, who is eyeing you with furrowed brows. "What are you looking at?"

"Our new classmates." You say, gazing back.

"You know they're alphas, right?" Stiles asks, making you nod. "Like, deadly...scary alphas?" He re-asks narrowing his eyes, as you chuckle.

"I heard they can shift into...like...one big werewolf." You say, in slight awe.

Stiles scoffs. "It's not that impressive."

"It kind of is." You mutter. Then you hear your seat scraping against the floor as Stiles jolts you around to face away from the twins.

"Do you know the distinction between friends and enemies?" Stiles asks, making you scoff. "Scott, did you know that y/n's rather stupid?" He asks Scott, making you elbow his arm.

"Yeah. She thinks the twins are cool." He continues, as you try to shut him up with your hand.

"I'm not the only one." You say defensively, before gesturing to Lydia, who is still eyeing up the straight twin.

"Well that's...Lydia." Stiles grabs your wrist, removing your hand from his mouth.

"Wow, your reasoning is impeccable, Stiles."

Stiles tilts his head at your sarcasm, the edges of his lips curving up a fraction. You get your wrist out of his grip before looking at Lydia—Allison and Scott caught up in conversation. "It's called having taste, Stiles."

Stiles raises his brows. "Taste?" He nearly exclaims. "Did you get hit in the head?"

"Alright...I'm gonna head to science." You say, ignoring stiles, standing, as the others spare you 'goodbyes'.

Stiles calls to your leaving form. "You have zero taste, y/n. Nada!"

You chuckle as you walk out into the hall. Stiles has been your best friend for almost forever. You enjoyed his jokes and even his incessant sarcasm. But you hated the fact that whenever he smiled butterflies would swarm your stomach. Whenever he would look at you a certain way your cheeks would pinken.

You had to brush it all way, knowing he wouldn't feel the same. And ruining such a long friendship would be horrible. Your mind is caught as you nearly collide with someone.

"Shit— sorry." You say looking up, holding a tighter grip on your notes.

One of the alpha twins stares back at you, a small smirk edging his lips. You quickly take in his appearance and the way he holds himself. "And I'd take it your the...straight one?"

He chuckles before beginning to nod. "Aiden." He introduces.

You nod. "Nice to meet you."

He raises his brows awaiting your own introduction. You go to speak, opening your mouth, but pause, seeming to remember exactly who Aiden is. "Will I be in danger if you know my name?" You whisper ask.

Aiden leans down to whisper back. "You might be safe."

"I might?" You ask, raising your brows.

Aiden smirks. "A pretty face usually makes it far."

Your mouth partly opens in slight shock. "Ha. So, you are a flirt." You straighten up. "Lydia's gonna love you."

"Mm, and what about you?" He asks, brushing a strand of hair away from your shoulder.

You chuckle. "Again—Lydia's gonna love you." You then step around him, walking into your class.

Stiles had seen one of the alpha twins follow you out. And of course, with a narrowed gaze—he followed him. He stopped upon seeing the twin speaking to you. Stiles' grip on the doorway was tight as he watched. A scowl formed as he saw the twin brush your hair over your shoulder, you chuckling about something.

What the hell were you talking about?—Stiles wondered, wishing he had scott's hearing. His stomach had tightened the moment he saw you with him. Hating seeing you smile at the enemy. But it wasn't just for the sake that it was the twin you were talking to. Stiles would feel like it no matter what dude it was. He wanted you to smile at him like that. Not someone else.

When you passed the twin for your class Stiles saw the way he eyed your form before leaving for his own class. Stiles scoffed to himself, glaring holes into the back of the alpha's head. No way was that beast getting you.

A few days had passed and through the halls you had caught yourself talking to the twins. It started off brief, just passing nods and a few hello's. But then you started picking up conversations where you'd left off the next time you'd pass eachother.

Stiles saw as you would wave at them or smile, them cracking a joke or a compliment. On the occasion that he would walk with you, Stiles' expression couldn't be more gloomy. You'd bump his shoulder making a comment on the "glare" he'd mastered, but Stiles' couldn't laugh, only hearing Aiden's compliments on your outfit or hair.

At first he didn't want to acknowledge that he was jealous. Because then he'd have to remember his large crush on you. He had had to push it away, knowing you wouldn't feel the same. You were freinds, and Stiles hid behind that concept, forcing himself to reason his glares to him just being a good friend, not wanting you to date someone like Aiden.

But once the days drew out, you and the twins seeming to grow closer, Stiles finally accepted his jealousy. You were his friend not there's. So, when he saw you smile and blush at a compliment Aiden gave you, he couldn't help himself but grab your wrist and pull you somewhere secluded.

You swiftly turned to face Stiles as you stared at him in confusion. You both are in the boys locker room, it being empty—the laccrosse team not practicing today. "What the hell-"

"What the hell is that?" Stiles cuts you off angrily. You stare at him, brows furrowing.

"What?"

"That." Stiles gestured to the now closed door. "Them. The twins."

"Aiden and Ethan?" You ask.

Stiles scoffs at the first name basis. "Yeah, Aiden and Ethan."

"What about them?" You slowly ask, never really having seen Stiles so mad.

Stiles clenches his jaw, all the past days annoyance bubbling up. "What about them? Really, y/n?"

Your still displaying confusion, as Stiles steps closer. "Why the fuck are you talking to them?"

"You're mad at me becasue I've said hi?"

"Oh, you've said more than hi." Stiles scoffs. "You keep talking with them in the halls as if your the closest of friends."

"Look Stiles, I know you don't like them. And I know they aren't particually saints. But if you spoke to them you'd realise how not in control they are. Deucalion—"

"I don't care for their sobstory, y/n. And you shouldn't either. You barely know them." Stiles has progressively gotten closer, before he's backing away, running his hands through his hair in annoyance. "God." He mutters.

"Stiles." You say, making him meet your gaze. "What is this?" Your tone has stayed calm, not wanting to start an arguement with Stiles of all people. "Are you okay?"

"No, y/n. I'm not." He finally says, fully stepping closer. You slightly stumble back at how swift his movement was. "Why do you want to talk to them?"

"Stiles, they...they're nice. They make me feel good, strangely enough."

"They make you feel good?" Stiles asks, eyeing you.

"They make me laugh. They are quite funny." You mutter, seeing how close Stiles is getting.

"Oh." Stiles chuckles, though the humour is lost. "Aren't they just amazing. Making you laugh and smile. You even blush around Aiden."

Your cheeks begin to redden on embarrassment as you cough. "No, I don't."

"Yeah, you do. And it's really annoying." Stiles says. "You know what else is annoying?" You meet his gaze, pressing your lips together. "The fact that you're blushing for him right now."

You scoff. "I'm not."

You can feel Stiles' breath hit your face. "I really hope that's true."

"Stiles, why are you so angry about this?"

And he cracks. "Because I don't want you to like some rabid wolf, I want you to like me!"

Stiles freezes, processing what he just revealed. Fuck. You stare at him, mouth beginning to open.

"What..." You drift off, your heart beating rapidly in your chest.

"I-" Stiles begins, stepping back, shocked and incredibly nervous at his own words. "I didn't-"

"You...like me?" You slowly ask.

Stiles goes to shake his head for fear of your rejection, but then he thinks of Aiden, and switches to a small nod.

Now your shocked, confirmation that his first confession wasn't a slip up. Silence has engulfed the locker room and Stiles can't bear it. "Say something...please."

"I didn't know...you liked me like that." You mutter, your life long crush's words having taken a toll on you.

He couldn't let you date Aiden and now you knew why. But your moments of silence were crushing his heart. He began to step farther away, thinking he just ruined your friendship, when you quickly grabbed his cheeks, and kissed him.

Stiles eyes widened, before they became hooded, the feel of your soft lips making his stomach do somersaults. But then your pulling away far too soon, eyes wide, your own shock at what you just did easily visible.

But Stiles doesn't waste another moment, smashing his lips back to yours. You slightly stumbled back at the force as Stiles began to lick and eat at your lips. He groaned into your mouth when he was able to finally push himself against you, your back hitting a locker.

"Oh, god." Stiles muttered against your lips. "This means you like me back...right?" He asks as he began to kiss your cheek and jaw, leading all the way to your neck, as his hand slipt around your waist.

"No, Stiles." You sarcastically say, making him chuckle against your skin. You grab his face, bringing him back to your face. "Kissing you doesn't mean I like you." You kiss him, your tongues eagerly meeting.

"I'm glad you've picked up my sacrasm." He says, continusously kissing you. "Otherwise that would hurt."

You smile into the kiss, your head buzzing with this reality. You had begun to unbutton his jeans, making his breath hitch, but he quickly grabs your hand, making you meet his gaze in question. "I didn't like hearing that the twins make you feel good." Stiles says, putting your hands over his shoulders, as he lead one of his hands back down.

He unbuttoned your jeans, slipping his hand inside making you grip his shirt. "I want to make you feel good." Stiles kisses you, as he reaches your panties, pushing them aside as he finds your wetness. You jolt when his fingers find your clit. "Much better than them." He whispered as he began to rub your pussy, circling around.

"Christ." You whispered into his neck, before your head hit back against the locker.

Stiles trailed one finger to your hole, pushing inside, making you whimper. "At first I was hurt, because you were my friend not theirs." Stiles said as he pushed another finger inside you making your hips stutter. "But now that doesn't matter, because you can be their freind all you like." Stiles littered kisses along you collerbone and neck. "As long as I can kiss and touch you like this." He grinned against your skin as you moaned, his pace quickening.

"Oh, god— please." You breathe, finding your hand in his hair. You kiss him, letting your lips bruise as he laps at your tongue. Stiles then kisses your cheeks. "You look so cute when you blush."

Your cheeks had heated due to the actions given by Stiles. "I thought you got annoyed when I b-blushed."

Stiles chuckles, curling his fingers inside you. You pant, sweat forming across your forehead. "That's only because you were blushing for Aiden. But now your blushing for me." Stiles smiles. “All for me."

#. ( archived )#teen wolf #teen wolf smut #teen wolf stiles stilinski #smut #stiles smut #angry confession #stiles x reader #teen wolf stiles #stiles stilinski #jealous stiles #stiles x y/n #stiles x you #stiles stilinski x y/n #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski imagine #stiles stilinski smut #stiles stilinski fan fiction

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forlix · 8 months

Text

𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬, 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬 !・h.h.

— you’re just trying to do your job; your client has other ideas.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬・1.3k 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠・idol!hyunjin x gn!makeup artist!reader 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬・very suggestive so mdni, reader implied to be shorter than hyunjin 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞𝐬・fluff, flirting, humor, big fwb vibes

𝐚/𝐧・this took me less than half an hour to write i am actually the biggest sucker for this trope. also, we hit another milestone recently!! i appreciate all of you immensely; look forward to more ♡

[!]・hi hey hello as of one month later a full-length fic based on this au has been posted!! here it is; you can read the two in any order. ok bye much love

“Five ‘til!” A crew member calls into a walkie-talkie, and you’re so surprised by this information that you stumble right over him, your heel ungracefully ramming into the poor man’s toes.

You apologize hurriedly, bowing yourself out of the awkward situation—and then you check your watch. 7:55 P.M. A quiet "shit" leaves your lips as it dawns on you that you'd completely lost track of time.

Briefly, you contemplate your predicament, drumming the palette of makeup you’re holding in your right hand against the palm of your left: do I have to? Is it really necessary? But you know your answer even as you’re asking yourself the questions. You’re damn meticulous—sometimes to a fault, but always to your own satisfaction.

You had a vision, and you’re going to see it through.

With impeccable timing, your coworker appears out of nowhere, and you fasten a hand around her arm. “Hey, where are the members again?”

“Stage left.” Then she registers your question in full, and snaps her eyes to your face; stylists were supposed to have finished up with their respective members nearly an hour ago. “Hang on, are you out of your mind—”

“I won’t be a minute!” You call, scurrying away.

“You won’t be employed!” She returns, but you’ve already disappeared into the curtains’ dense shadows.

You jog a short distance, turn a few corners, and finally spot the eight members clad in outfits of varying amounts of silver and black, every inch of them so sparkly that they’re reflective, even with how little light reaches this part of the stage.

You’re looking for one man in particular, though, and you single him out right away: long, black locks falling into his eyes as he adjusts his microphone, broad shoulders and tall frame flattered perfectly by an obsidian suit, looking like he fell off a Paris Fashion Week runway and into a wormhole that teleported him to Osaka.

All your doing, by the way.

“Hwang Hyunjin!” You shout, and he (along with several of the other members) whips around at the sound. And Hyunjin furrows a perfect brow when his stylist materializes before him, four minutes to curtain up, wielding a palette of makeup like it’s a baseball bat.

“Are you out of your mind?” He calls.

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” You lift a pointer finger into the air and curl it twice. “Come here. Hurry."

Hyunjin gives the others an apologetic glance before hurrying over, and you are met with a blast of Byredo Blanche when he arrives in front of you, the expression on his face equal parts amused and confused.

“Down,” you say, flicking open the eyeshadow palette with one hand.

And then Hyunjin understands. A loud, uninhibited laugh leaves his lips, a sound you’ve become so accustomed to by now that you’re completely oblivious to the fact that only you bring it out of him.

“You really are something,” he says, spreading his feet apart until he’s brought himself to your eye level.

With that, you get to work, one hand gathering some eyeshadow on the pads of your fingers, the other moving to hold his shoulder. Brushes are luxuries you can’t afford right now.

“Close your eyes,” you direct, your voice softer now that your face is only inches away from his, and Hyunjin heeds your words obediently. You begin to dab the crimson powder against the curve of his lids, careful to avoid messing up the rest of his eye makeup. His lashes flutter involuntarily at your gentle touch.

“A shadow to match the lip,” you murmur absently. “I pictured it and knew it had to happen."

Hyunjin makes a sound of approval, and then there is that smirk on his face, the one you’ve learned only means trouble. “You’ve been thinking about my face the whole night, then?”

“No. I’ve been thinking about whether vegetables can feel pain,” you deadpan. “Yes, I've been thinking about your face. It’s my job.”

“Is that all?”

“Sure is.” You blow gently on his finished eye and move on to the other. “Now save your voice for the stage.”

He obliges, but that dreadful, self-assured expression remains on his face, and you're immeasurably grateful that he can’t see the blush that you’re well aware paints your cheeks.

“Done,” you say a minute later, straightening with a confident flourish. And you think you could squeal when Hyunjin opens his eyes, and you see that the exact effect you’d hoped for has been realized: a splash of maroon that is both subtle and seductive, sleek and suave; that not only accentuates the shape of his eyes but pulls attention to his lips, which are dyed a similar hue. Damn, you’re good at your job.

“I don’t have a mirror,” you say, looking around. “I can use my phone if you want to—”

“It’s fine,” he says. “I trust you.”

You grin at this. “Good. Because you look sexy as hell."

Upon hearing your words, he straightens to his full height. You don’t think much of this at first, too busy re-examining the masterpiece you’ve created on his eyelids, but in the blink of an eye you’re suddenly aware that Hyunjin is standing conspicuously and intentionally close to you. You instinctively move away, but you’re too late; he’s already guiding your back to the wall behind you, his body enclosing yours against the smooth surface.

You send a panicked look over Hyunjin’s shoulder, only to realize that the two of you are completely out of anyone’s line of vision. That doesn’t stop the sharp hiss that leaves your lips: “Hyunjin, are you cr—”

But then there is a familiar gust of breath against your skin, a thumb over your cheekbone.

He knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t help himself when you get like this; all bossy and concentrated, an ambitious glint in your eyes, an air of confidence in your gait. He always thinks it’s ironic that your job is to make him look good when all he’s ever done is admire your beauty, so effortless and profuse that it feels timeless, like freshly bloomed forget-me-nots.

He knows he shouldn’t—but that makes him want to more.

When your lips meet, they move together with an ease and familiarity that reveal how many times you’ve done this before. He brings a hand to the small of your back, and you tangle your stained fingers in his luscious hair, the delicious pressure of his mouth upon yours rendering your reluctance (and the eyeshadow palette, which clatters noisily to the floor) momentarily forgotten.

As the kiss deepens, the bridges of your noses slide together; your every sense becomes overwhelmed by the slippery plush of his full lips and the warm caress of his large hands; you drink in the rosy musk of his cologne like your cells need it to live as opposed to oxygen. The tip of Hyunjin’s tongue teases the seam of your lips, as if requesting access, and you grant it to him with a light moan that is both blissful and thoroughly exasperated. When he hears the gorgeous sound, he has half a mind to scoop you up and leave the venue then and there.

Then, a voice bellows from not too far away: “One minute, everyone! Places, places!”

You’re so startled that you not only break away from him but jump a meter into the air, giving Hyunjin’s bicep a hearty slap on your way down. But he is entirely unbothered, dipping his head to press a trail of light kisses along your jaw instead.

“You’ll be watching the performance, yes?” He murmurs against the sensitive skin.

“Of course, what else—”

“—don’t take your eyes off me.”

And the words throw your heart against your ribs like uncooked French fries in a vat of oil.

He is just about to walk away when you realize how decidedly disheveled you’ve left him, and you yank him back to you with a fresh wave of panic. You wipe at his smudged lipstick with the cuffs of your sleeves; nitpick his hair until every strand is back in its proper place. Only when you’ve gotten rid of all the incriminating evidence do you permit him to leave.

“Thank you very much,” he says, bending into a gracious bow, the perfect image of professionalism. The facade is given away only by the upturned corner of his still-flushed lips.

“Break a leg,” you return drily.

The last thing you hear is that stupid, bright laugh before Hyunjin rejoins his members, and they step into the strobe lights together.

Even when the concert begins and the stadium is drowned in fanatical screams, the heartbeat in your ears remains the loudest sound of all—and you bury your burning face in your hands.

Hwang Hyunjin will be the death of you.

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support ♡

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kuroananosanji · 9 days

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Canon vs fanon Sanji discourse is always funny to me because… girlie which fanon Sanji are you talking about? There’s so many! You’ve got:

Bisexualji: Basically canon Sanji except he’s bi. His women loving antics can range from no different from canon to a bit toned down. Usually low-key about his sexuality but otherwise normal about it.

Internalised homophobiaji: What the name says. Feelings have to get punched out of him (usually by Zoro). Can be annoying to read/write but the when done well it’s chef’s kiss (pun intended)

Slutji: Most featured in E-rated fics. The fact that he sleeps around (mostly with men) is sometimes used to make someone jealous (mostly Zoro). OOC but when it’s one of those every man on the Grand Line dicks down Sanji fics… it doesn’t really matter does it.

Frenchji: When Sanji is essentially turned into APH France - refined, high-class, has impeccable fashion and uses expensive cologne, wears a deep V blouse, long wavy hair is always preferred. Mostly seen in 40!Sanji fics.

Twinkji: The most common target of these “fanon Sanji ew” complaints but unless you’re on Wattpad he’s actually a rare occurrence? Identifiers are an exaggerated height difference with Zoro, skinny, completely gay, 2000s yaoi level of bottom. I have to say I’ve maybe come across this 1% of the time.

Whumpji: He’s traumatised, he’s depressed and anxious, he thinks no one loves him, he thinks he deserves to suffer. Vinsmokes are 11/10 the time involved. Luffy is sunshine incarnate in these.

Princeji: When he’s either in a royalty AU or never escaped Germa. Usually acts more ��pure” than his canon version because Zeff didn’t raise him to be sassy and chivalrous. Maintains the 5-9 year old Sanji personality. Very cute. Even cuter when combined with rogue/knight Zoro.

Tsunji: This is just canon Sanji. The louder he screams at you the more he loves you. His love language is beating you up then leaving a plate of food next to your work station. Objectively the best Sanji.

#disclaimer that I read mostly zosan so this is very zosan biased #zosan #black leg sanji #vinsmoke sanji #one piece

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wongyuseokie · 1 month

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All Too Well | c.s.c

Summary: You thought you met the man of your dreams. He was everything you ever wanted, but what happens when that dream falls apart and when that man is no longer the one you recognise? You want to love him against all odds because you believe things can be better.

☆ 18+ minors dni |☀︎fluff | ☁︎ angst | ♕smut | ♥ completed works

Word Count: 21,190 words

Pairings: Professor! Seungcheol x Female Reader Genre/Trope(s)/AU(s): Established Relationship, break up au! Slightly (quite) toxic relationship, HEAVY ANGST, fluff, smut.

Content Warnings: There is an age gap between the reader and Seungcheol, but it’s not massive. He’s 30, and she’s 25, but it’s enough to cause problems. Seungcheol is a condescending little shit in this. Yelling, swearing, crying, arguments, toxic couple behaviours, mentions of an injury. Hospitalisation it’s nothing serious—mentions of blood. Smut Warnings: smut, unprotected sex (don’t do this). Fingering, oral (male and female receiving) shower sex, multiple orgasms, squirting and using sex as an apology. Authors Note 1: This fic will hurt quite a bit, but I like pain and write many of my experiences with my ex. It’s a form of free therapy, and it feels cathartic. Also, this story is fiction. Cheol is a fucking dick in this. This is a story that is not reflective of him or my impression of him. It is pure fiction, nothing else. Authors Note 2: Thank you so so much to my lovely @multi-kpop-fanfics for reading over this, my lovely @wooahaeproductions and @gyuwoncheol for beta'ing this fic for me 🩷 Authors Note 3: This is a Seventeen rewrite of an old Joon fic of mine, so if it looks familiar, that’s why hehe.

Taglist: @dkluvrsclub @wooahaeproductions @stayinhellevator @aaniag @seungkwansphd @tomodachiii @gyuminusone @bitchlessdino @zezedoesshit @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @noiceoofed @joonsytip @miniseokminnies @wonwoos-wineparty @persnyako @deobienthusiast @the-boy-meets-evil @gyuswhore @gyuwoncheol @shuadotcom @multi-kpop-fanfics @ourdawnishotterthanourday @thegirlwhoimagined @starlight-night0 @dreamsbloomout @aaasia111 @wongyuuu @ana-marais98 @gaslysainz @cherrylita @highvern Part of the Broken Illusions Stories

“Mia, I’m not going to go on Tinder to end a dry spell, nor am I going to sleep with any of the men here. They are all old and most likely married. I’m not keen,” you groaned to your best friend.

Mia had dragged you out tonight because she said that you had a dry spell that needed to be broken, but you were not going to submit to your hormones, and you surely were not going to submit to some random guy on Tinder with the worst possible pick-up lines.

“Look, I can take care of myself. Men are useless and self-obsessed,” you claimed before sipping your martini.

“Surely not all men?” A voice spoke, making you choke on your drink.

You wiped your face wiped it of what? quickly and turned around in your seat to face the voice’s owner. Your eyes widened like saucers upon seeing the man standing before you. You were speechless, and as your eyes scanned, trailed from his deep-set eyes, his impeccable build, and his thighs, thighs that you wanted to straddle and ride until you screamed his name over and over.

“Nope, all men,” you quipped, making the handsome stranger smile at you, revealing his deep dimples.

“Y/N’s been burned by useless men, men who’ve claimed to be all that and then fell short, so she’s quite cynical about most men,” Mia chimed. “Ow!” Mia yelped when you kicked her shin for oversharing.

“Well, how about I get you another drink?” The man suggested, and Mia grinned before hopping off her barstool.

“Great, you do that! I have an early shift tomorrow. Stay safe, Y/N,” Mia said, winking as she headed out of the bar, and you glared at her, knowing that her ‘stay safe’ comment also meant to use a condom.

“I’m Seungcheol.” The stranger introduced himself, and you nodded, turning around to face the bar as he sat down next to you.

“Well, you already know my name. My best friend did kind of yell it,” you deadpanned. You didn’t care how ridiculously handsome Seungcheol was. He could just be another man who could talk a big game and be useless.

“What would you like to drink?” Seungcheol asked, and you shrugged. “Surprise me,” you said. You made a mental note that if he got you some fruity shit, you’d leave him the second the words left his mouth.

“How about a Yuzu fizz gin and tonic?” Seungcheol offered, and you smiled at him, nodding.

“I can guess that if I ordered something you didn’t approve of, you would have left the bar by now?” Seungcheol joked.

“Well, now you’ll never know, will you?” You joked, making Seungcheol smile again.

“So why are you here? Trying to find Prince Charming?” Seungcheol asked with a chuckle.

“Oh, come on, be honest. I’m not one to judge,” Seungcheol encouraged, and a sly grin formed on your face.

“If you insist, then okay,” you started to say, inching closer to him, swallowing a gulp as you took in the scent of his cologne. It was musky, spicy, and woody all at once.

“I’ve been stuck in a painfully long dry spell, and my hand is exhausted. I just need to find someone to fuck me hard,” you answered nonchalantly, and you swore you saw Seungcheol gulp slightly.

“You’re telling me a woman as beautiful as you has not found a man?” Seungcheol asked as he moved away to hand you your drink. You took a sip out of the glass, smiling at the taste.

“Good?” Seungcheol asked, and you nodded.

“Would you like to try?” You asked, and Seungcheol shook his head.

“Maybe later?” Seungcheol replied, and you nodded.

“But to answer your question, it’s not about looks. For instance, a guy might be doing well, then he’ll say something obnoxious, and I’ll no longer be interested,” you explained.

“Fair enough, I apologise on behalf of my species. We often get too excited when we see a beautiful woman and act up,” Seungcheol clarified, making you grin. Seungcheol was incredibly handsome and sweet, but you didn’t feel anything. Nothing clicked. There was no instant chemistry; suddenly, you felt tired and bored and just wanted to be wrapped up in your blanket.

“Well, this was nice. Thank you for the drink, but I think I will call it a night,” you said, and Seungcheol simply smiled at you. You were relieved at how he wasn’t pushy or objecting to the fact that you wanted to leave so early. Most of the men you had met would get defensive or be less than understanding if you wanted to go before they got to cop a feel.

“Wait, how are you getting home?” Seungcheol asked.

“Walking home, it’s a twenty-minute walk,” you replied.

“Y/N, you can punch me if I step out of line, but no, you’re not walking home alone.” You sighed, but you didn’t mind entirely, plus you could kick him in the crotch if he acted up. You were cognizant enough to do so.

“Well then, Seungcheol, since it’s a bit of a walk, shall we play a game?” You asked as you both stepped out of the bar and started to walk.

“Seriously?” Seungcheol asked, grinning.

“Humour me, Seungcheol .”

“Fine then.”

“Great, let’s play twenty questions,” and you proceeded to ask. “How old are you?”

“30,” he replied.

“If it’s not too rude to ask you, the same?” Seungcheol asked, and you smiled before replying, “25.”

“I have another question if it’s not too crude?” Seungcheol asked, and you nodded at him to ask it. “When you said you wanted to be fucked hard, how hard?” You gulped; you swore his voice had gotten deeper and huskier since he left the bar. You chalked up your reaction to the cold air, playing tricks on your mind.

“If let’s say, hypothetically, it was me, how hard would you want me to fuck you?” Seungcheol continued , making you stop and turn to face him. His eyes were piercing and burned through any façade you had on tonight.

“Hard enough to make me forget my name,” you whispered, earning a nod from Seungcheol.

The rest of the walk was filled with silence, aside from a few questions from Seungcheol, but you couldn’t get the vision of him standing over you and asking you how hard you’d like to be fucked out of your head.

“Well,” you breathed out when your eyes landed on your front door.

“This is me,” you said, standing with your back against your front door.

“Wait, I have one thing I want to try but don’t worry, you still have permission to knee me in the balls,” Seungcheol teased, making you chuckle, only for a second, before his soft lips landed on yours. The kiss was so light it almost felt like nothing happened, but you knew it did because you felt your heartbeat out of your chest the minute his lips grazed yours.

“I always wanted to know what the Yuzu gin and tonic tasted like,” Seungcheol said smugly before moving away from you.

“Well, it was lovely meeting you,” Seungcheol said, leaving you speechless and breathless as he turned around and walked away from your front door.

“Seungcheol! Wait!” He turned around, smiling at you.

“Would you like to come in for a nightcap? We still have several questions left,” you suggested, hoping he’d say yes. Seungcheol grinned as he nodded, following you into your apartment.

Fifteen questions in, Seungcheol and you were on your living room sofa. You were cuddling into his side, your legs on his lap. Around five questions ago, Seungcheol’s hand started trailing your exposed thighs , and you had let out a few soft moans at his touch.

“Question sixteen for you, Y/N,” Seungcheol said, and you laughed at him.

“You kept count?” You asked, and Seungcheol nodded.

“I’m very detail-oriented,” Seungcheol replied, and you rolled your eyes.. Seungcheol’s hand stopped trailing your thighs; instead, he gently squeezed them.

“Tell me, how hard did you want to be fucked?” He asked again, and you quirked your brows at him.

“You already asked,” you replied breathlessly, and Seungcheol shrugged.

“Would it hurt to get details?” Seungcheol pressed staring right into your eyes. You would be lying if you said you didn’t start getting wet five questions ago, but now your core ached at his words.

“So hard that I can’t walk, so that I’m a mumbling and whimpering mess.” You said as you moved so that you were straddling Seungcheol. You gently moved your hips against his, and you felt his length hardening.

“Question seventeen for you. Why did you ask me for a drink tonight?” you asked as Seungcheol groaned and held your waist, stopping your movements.

“When I saw you in this dress, I couldn’t help but think about how I wanted to do nothing more than rip it off your body,” Seungcheol spoke, and you moaned at his words. His grip on your waist got tighter, and you were sure you would be bruised tomorrow, but you didn’t care.

“Question eighteen, Y/N, are you wet right now?” Seungcheol asked, and you smirked and proceeded to reply with another question.

“Question nineteen, Seungcheol, do you want to find out?” You asked, and Seungcheol’s eyes darkened with lust as he nodded,lifting the pushed-up hem of your dress so that it was at the waistband of your panties.

Seungcheol looked at you for consent, and you nodded, giving it to him. He pulled your panties to the side and brushed his fingers through your folds. Seungcheol moaned at your wetness, then moved his fingers to his mouth, and relished your taste.

“Final question, baby. What’s your safe word?” He asked.

“Peaches,” you replied.

“Peaches it is,” Seungcheol responded, content with your answer, he carried you to your bedroom to a night filled with absolute pleasure.

You woke up the following day to soft snores; you smiled softly at Seungcheol sleeping. Seungcheol looked incredibly handsome, even with his hair ruffled and mouth open as he snored lightly. You hated how you were romanticising this one moment, especially considering that it was the result of several drinks and very sexual questions that led him to your bedroom. Still, at this moment, you wished that this would be the view you could wake up to every day.

He was perfect. He was so sweet, loving, gentle, and kind all night long. You wouldn’t be opposed to having that type of care and affection regularly.

You decided to get out of bed and grab your oversized nightshirt as you headed to the kitchen, leaving your bedroom quietly not to wake him up andruin the little daydream you were happily living in.

You took a detour, making sure to head to the bathroom first, freshen up, and then head to the kitchen, where you made a cup of green tea for yourself and a cup of hot coffee for Seungcheol. In your hazy recollection of last night, you remembered Seungcheol ordering a couple of espresso martinis, so you assumed coffee would be a good idea.

You held the mugs in your hand as you headed back to your bedroom, smiling when you saw Seungcheol sitting up, stretching, and smiling sleepily at you when he turned his head to face you.

“Damn, and here I thought you left me,” Seungcheol joked. His deep morning voice made you feel warm, like the tea that warmed your throat with every sip.

“It’s my house,” you replied, smiling at him and handing him a mug of coffee.

“So, what do you do, Y/N?” Seungcheol asked. “Aside from rock my world,” he added, joking, making you roll your eyes at him.

“I’m a freelance web designer, but I just took a break to travel with my friends for a bit, and so I’m just getting back into it.I need to go out and hustle to get clients again,” you said, and you noticed an emotion you couldn’t decipher flash across Seungcheol’s features.

You assumed he was squinting at the morning sunlight streaming into your bedroom, but it was gloomy. Still, it was early, and maybe he was just tired.

“What do you do?” You asked, not wanting to dwell on your thoughts for too long.

“I’m an English Literature professor at Seoul National University,” Seungcheol said, and you couldn’t help but notice the hint of smugness that laced his tone. Still, then again, if you were a professor at the most prestigious universities in the country, maybe you, too, would behave that way.

“So, you’re like a nerd?” You joked and knew it fell flat, noticing how Seungcheol gave you no reaction.

“Is it still a thing to call people nerds? Youngsters these days,” Seungcheol mused, and you couldn’t help but again detect an undercurrent of an unpleasant tone that made you feel uncomfortable. You let it slide because you knew nothing about this man.

“I enjoyed last night,” you said softly, joining him on your bed, hoping to change the topic.

“I did, too. I didn’t think heading out for a drink after work would help me find you,” Seungcheol agreed.

“I, uh,” you fumbled. You wanted to ask if he would be willing to see you again, and Seungcheol got the hint.

“I want to see you again, and not just to repeat last night, but because I want to get to know you more,” Seungcheol said, and you beamed at him.

“Shit, I need to get home and shower and get to the university, but can I have your number? I’ll text you after my lecture today, and yes, I’ll text today itself because I don’t believe in the whole bullshit of waiting for a day after to tell someone you enjoyed their company. I guess that’s something I learned with age,” Seungcheol stated.

Then, you wondered if you felt Seungcheol’s age would be a motif you could never get rid of.

“Wait, so the buff hot guy, you ended up going home with him and fucking him?” Mia exclaimed obnoxiously loud in the supermarket, making you glare at her as you got a few disapproving stares from fellow shoppers.

“Oh, you need to work on your indoor voice. You will end up spilling my life story to the world,” you said, elbowing Mia, who shrugged.

“So well, was he the kind of dick you want inside you again, or what?” Mia asked as you grabbed some pasta and put it in your shopping cart.

“He asked me out,” you replied.“Well, sort of. He said he doesn’t believe in waiting a while to text, so he said he’d text me today because he enjoyed my company,” you clarified, and you saw Mia’s grin widen.

“What does he do?” Mia asked. “He’s a professor of literature and SNU,” you responded.

“Damn, I need your luck to get that kind of dick on a night out, a qualified dick, if you will,” Mia joked, making you laugh.

“I don’t know, he still hasn’t texted, and it’s nearly 7, and if he texts any later than that, it’ll just be for a hookup, and I don’t want to be a booty call,” you explained, and Mia nodded.

“Well, he’s a professor at one of the most prestigious universities. Maybe he got busy, and if he enjoyed your company, I’m sure he doesn’t only want sex,” Mia explained. You shrugged unsurely, and your phone buzzed in your pocket as if on cue.

Unknown Number: Hey, it’s Seungcheol. Sorry for not texting earlier like I said. Students had a lot of concerns, and it’s been a long day. I finally wrapped up, and if you haven’t made plans already, I’d like to take you out for a late-night dessert.

You smiled at your phone for what must have been too long, considering Mia decided to nudge you. “Fucking reply, you dork, and have him for dessert because that man must be sweet,” Mia teased, wiggling her brows at you, making you roll your eyes at her as you typed a reply.

You: Hey Seungcheol, that’s okay. Dessert? Colour me intrigued, where should I meet you?

Not even a minute afteryou sent the message, you saw the words “Seungcheol is typing,” flash across your screen, making you smile and feel giddy like a teenager having a crush.

Seungcheol: Send me your location, and I’ll pick you up.

You: Sure!

You: Location sent

Seungcheol: Perfect, see you in a few!

You grinned at your phone as Mia headed towards the check-out aisle. “Wow, he’s offering to pick you up, too. He’s already a keeper,” Mia stated, and you shrugged.

“How?” You asked, curious to understand your best friend’s logic.

“He’s going out of his way to meet you and pick you up; he wants to spend more time with you before the date. He isn’t simply telling you to meet him at a place. He is making the time and effort to take you out on a date after a busy day. That’s a good sign,” Mia explained, making you smile.

You and Mia had paid for your groceries and now were waiting outside. You were conversing with Mia when a sleek black Mercedes caught your eye. It was a sexy car, and your eyes widened when Seungcheol stepped out of the car and smiled at you.

“Sorry, I hope I didn’t keep you in the cold too long?” Seungcheol said, and you shook your head at him.

“Not at all,” you said shyly, earning a particularly hard nudge at your side from Mia, who noticed your shyness.

“I’m Mia, you must be Seungcheol,” she greeted, making Seungcheol laugh.

“I remember you, you’re trouble; you were the one who was kind enough to inundate me with Y/N’s sex life that night,” Seungcheol recalled, flustering Mia and you.

“Well, it worked out, didn’t it?” Mia countered, making Seungcheol smile, allowing his deep dimples to appear, making you smile too.

“Can’t deny that”, Seungcheol agreed, winking at you, making you smile even more, so much so that you thought your cheeks would break.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” Mia said as she started to walk away.

“Wait, Mia, why don’t I drive you home before we both head out on our date? It’s cold and late,” Seungcheol offered, and for some reason, that stung. You don’t know why. She was your best friend; she’d never betray you, and Seungcheol, well, he was nothing to you right now.

Mia looked at you nervously, and you shrugged before nodding. “Yeah, come on, girl, it’s cold out. Besides, it’s not a long drive,” you rambled nervously, and Mia nodded as she approached the car.

Seungcheol was nothing but a gentleman, holding the door open for youfirst, letting you in the front seat next to him, and then moving to help Mia into the back seat, and you couldn’t help the ugly feeling of jealousy that stirred in the pit of your stomach.

Why would he help her after me? You thought and shook your head to rid yourself of those thoughts. You needed to compose yourself before Seungcheol joined you in the driver’s seat.

“Alright, Mia, why don’t you tell me your address?” Seungcheol asked, flashing her a smile. You forced another smile at your best friend, annoyed at how your emotions clouded your ability to be rational, but Mia was right. Seungcheol was a catch, and you didn’t fancy losing him to your best friend.

The entire drive to Mia’s apartment was filled with awkward silence, aside from a couple of jokes from Seungcheol and a few nervous giggles from Mia. You kept your gaze on the road ahead, refusing to engage in the conversation. You hated how your insecurities got the better of you and ruined a good time.

“Thank you, Seungcheol,” Mia said softly, and for a second, you wanted to roll your eyes at her when you heard how sickly sweet her voice sounded, but then you realised that’s what she always sounded like and that your insecurity nearly caused you to ignore your best friend. You could tell Mia had noticed too as she too kept stealing worried glances at you.

“Hey, I’d never, and I’m sorry I imposed tonight,” Mia said as she exited the car and stood by your window. You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding and nodded.

“I know, I’m just sorry. I got insecure,” you admitted quietly, and Mia nodded before hugging you awkwardly.

“Have fun tonight. Remember, he wants to spend time with you. You’re not a second option,” Mia reassured, and you smiled at her, mentally noting to send her a long and apologetic text after tonight.

Seungcheol, ever the gentleman, walked Mia to her door and waited for her to go inside before hereturned to the car, sat in the driver’s seat, and smiled at you, which you half-heartedly returned.

“Okay, did you and Mia argue before I showed up?” Seungcheol asked, and you shook your head. “Then why did you act as if I overstepped by dropping her home?” Seungcheol questioned, and you sighed.

“Can I blame it on insecurities, and you can drop this?” You asked, and Seungcheol’s face softened.

“I want to spend my night with you, not her. How about I make it up to you over the best cake ever?” Seungcheol suggested, and you nodded, smiling at him.

The drive was filled with the music in Seungcheol’s car and lo-fi remixes, and halfway along the drive, Seungcheol broke the silence.

“So, this place is far, but I promise you it’s the best dessert place in the world. I know the owners, and I’ve known them since I was a kid, so they’re like family, so the food is legit,” Seungcheol rambled, making you smile.

“So busy day, huh?” You asked, and Seungcheol nodded as he moved one hand off the steering wheel to lace it with yours.

“Yeah, but seeing you made it all better,” Seungcheol replied, making you smile at him.

“Cute,” you replied, making him grin as he drove.

“What about you? How was your day?” Seungcheol asked, now properly holding your hand as he kept his free hand on the steering wheel and continued to drive.

“Well, I mean, it wasn’t particularly productive. I asked a few clients if they had any upcoming projects I could assist with,” you explained

“Well, you can’t be passive about it. If you want something, you need to chase after it,” Seungcheol explained and then winced slightly. “Fuck sorry, I’ve been with students all day, repeating this shit to them, and I automatically clicked into professor mode; sorry,” Seungcheol apologised, reaching gently to take your hand and bring it to his lips.

“You’re not exactly wrong, but maybe just keep the life coach’s advice for the kids?” You joked, and Seungcheol’s eyes lit up as he pulled into the familiar driveway of the bakery.

“We’re here!” Seungcheol exclaimed excitedly as he parked the car, getting out first and heading to help you.

“Oh,” you said, pointing to your grocery bag.

“Leave it here; it’s cool,” Seungcheol replied.

“Shall we?” Seungcheol asked as he closed the car door behind you and held out his hand for you; you took it, smiling as his large hand engulfed yours, making you feel safe.

“Is that who I think it is?” A voice called out from the bakery’s back, and Seungcheol grinned, hearing the voice as he replied.

“Halmeoni, it is. Cheol is hungry,” Seungcheol said playfully as he guided you into the bakery and a more petite older woman approached Seungcheol.

“Oh, you are getting buffer by the day, and I see it’s paying off. Who is this beautiful woman?” The lady asked, making you smile shyly.

“Y/N, she and I are here on a date, halmeoni,” Seungcheol explained, making you grin even more.

“Well, I’m glad to see you are dating again. After Yoona, I thought I lost you for good,” the lady added, and you felt Seungcheol’s grip on your hand tighten at the mention of Yoona. Lost him how?

“Halmeoni, not now, please,” Seungcheol warned.

“My dear, Y/N, how rude of me. I’m Minji Kim, but you can address me as Halmeoni. Why don’t you two sit? I’ll get you the specials?” Ms. Kim offered.Seungcheol nodded as he guided you inside to find a more secluded booth to sit in.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Seungcheol said softly as you sat down. You were about to counter, saying you weren’t planning to ask him, but you decided against it. It wasn’t your place. Not tonight, at least, not on a first date.

“This is our best-selling product and Cheol’s favourite,” Ms. Kim interrupted a couple of minutes later, as she placed a molten cake on the middle of the table and placed down two forks as well.

“Enjoy, kids,” Ms. Kim said before she disappeared.

“I know it looks simple,” Seungcheol started to say, “But this is the best thing ever. Open,” Seungcheol said as he picked up a forkful of the molten cake and moved the fork to your lips. You accepted the cake, letting out a hum of approval as the chocolatey taste filled your mouth.

“Fuck, that’s amazing,” you praised, and Seungcheol smirked as he took a bite for himself.

“Halmeoni says the love she pours into the cake makes it so delicious. She’ll never tell me her recipe, even if I beg,” Seungcheol complained, and you laughed at him.

“Isn’t that better? Some things are better left unsaid. It might ruin the magic,” you said, and Seungcheol smiled slightly.

“Ah, the childlike wonder, cute,” Seungcheol said, earning a funny look from you.

“Is that a problem?” You asked, moving your hand away from him. Seungcheol shook his head.

“No, I guess I have a very black-and-white view of the world, and sometimes I fail to account that other people don’t. I like that you see the world with all its beauty and colours,” Seungcheol explained.

“Well, stick around me long enough, and maybe you’ll see the world with a bit more colour?” you suggested, and Seungcheol shrugged.

“We’ll see,” Seungcheol said, and you gathered from his tone that he didn’t fancy discussing this issue further.

“Hey, you’ve got cake on your face,” Seungcheol said, leaning forward, and you assumed he’d wipe the cake off your lips. Instead, you were met with his soft lips. You melted against his lips as they moved against yours, only for him to pull away for a second and then find your lips again. You pulled away this time with a light smile.

“Halmeoni will have the worst impression of me if all I do is make out with you here,” you joked, and Seungcheol smirked.

“I agree. How about we finish this cake, and maybe I can show you how much I wanted to spend my day with you instead of lecturing my students?” Seungcheol suggested, and you couldn’t help how your expression changed.Seungcheol caught onto it as well.

“I didn’t ask you out only to have sex with you, I promise. I want your company, but I also want to be able to hold your hand and maybe steal a few kisses here and there. I’d rather do that in a comfortable setting and not traumatise poor halmeoni,” Seungcheol clarified as he placed another kiss on your lips, and you hummed into the kiss.

“Shall we?” Seungcheol asked, and you nodded.You stood up with him, placing your hand in his, and following him to the counter as he paid for the cake, much to your and halemoni’s protests. Seungcheol smiled as he walked out the bakery door, ensuring to wave to Ms. Kim. You felt yourself becoming more enamoured by his actions.

You concluded that Seungcheol could have a hard exterior, but soft inside, much like the lava cake. He could seem slightly unapproachable with his curt and short replies, but if you dug deep enough, you knew he was filled with nothing but love and warmth, and you were determined to get to know that Seungcheol.

You were determined that you could be that one for him, the one he’d let in.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Seungcheol asked as his voice took you out of your daydream of becoming the future Mrs Choi.

“I enjoyed tonight; well, everything tonight has been so incredible,” you admitted, and Seungcheol turned to smile at you, nearly running through the red light, making you laugh and gasp.

“Fuck, do you think being distracted by you is a valid reason for running a red light?” Seungcheol joked, and you shook your head at him.

“Nope, but I think it’s cute,” you said as you placed your hand on his knee.

“That impatient? We’re almost back at mine,” Seungcheol teased, and you rolled your eyes at him,pinching his knee a bit which made him laugh.

The drive back to Seungcheol’s place was filled with jokes and flirty remarks.Once Seungcheol reached his apartment, he couldn’t park the car soon enough and hurriedly helped you out,practically running to his apartment with your hand in his.

The minute you were inside his apartment, you took a second to take off your red scarf. You placed it on the coat hanger by the door and squealed in surprise when Seungcheol turned you around in his embrace, bending down to lift you into his arms and carry you over to his sofa.

You stared at him, confused. What did he want? Was it just sex? You wondered, and Seungcheol spoke, ending your worries within seconds.

“I just want to hold you like this, in my arms, look,” Seungcheol started to say as he adjusted his position so that you were lying between his body, your chin on his toned chest. “Maybe I’m moving too quickly, but I told you I don’t believe in all that bull shit of following rules. You’re the first person I’ve felt this comfortable with for so long, so forgive me if all this is too much because I can reign it in,” Seungcheol admitted as he stroked your cheek, making you smile.

You sat up for a second tokick off your boots, taking your position back, and laying on his chest. “I don’t need you to reign any of this in,” you reassured. Seungcheol was special; he was older, wiser, and something you had never had. You weren’t about to lose him for the sake of some social constructs relating to dating.

You always felt like people made up or exaggerated when it came to how love made them feel. You had friends, like Mia, who would act like they were on cloud nine or something when they were in love, and you never understood it. It wasn’t because you were traumatised as a child or anything, far from it.

You were a happy kid, but your parents weren’t in love. You knew that your parents stayed married for your sake, and while you would always commend them for that because you knew you could never do that, you never understood the point of pretending. All that to say, you never grew up with a perfect example of what love looked like, and after shitty hookups and your fair share of fuck boys and heartbreak, you gave up on the concept.

You didn’t hate love; you just assumed it was something inconceivable that others got, the lucky ones, and you, you didn’t think you’d ever get it. You had convinced yourself that for so long, until you met Seungcheol, until that first kiss with him.

Now, four months later, you watched your boyfriend working.

That was your man, your safe space, your home. Even though there were petty fights and arguments, you two would make it work because that’s what people do when they’re in love.

They fight for each other.

“Okay, I guess I’m decent-looking enough, but you’ve been staring at my face for the past ten minutes, with a smile on yours,” Seungcheol chuckled as he looked at you.

“Wait, I’ve been staring for that long?” You asked, feeling slightly flustered. Seungcheol nodded as he pulled you closer into his chest.

“What’s on your mind?” Seungcheol asked as his hand traced patterns lazily on your lower back.

“I just-,” you started to say.“Are you real?” You asked Seungcheol, who furrowed his brows at you.

“What?” Seungcheol asked

“I don’t know, I fuck. I never believed that I could have something like this,” you said shyly, and Seungcheol smiled fondly at you.

“Like what?” Seungcheol encouraged, and you took a deep breath to sit up and adjusted until you sat crossed-legged next to Seungcheol on the bed. He soon followed, sitting up, and leaning against his headboard.

“Like, I always thought love was a beautiful concept, but it was a concept that others would get, not me. I never thought I would find someone who would love me, how you do, how you make me feel when you kiss me, and how I feel when I hold your hand. Seungcheol, I feel safe with you, and that’s something I never associated with love. Love was always so unrealistic to me,” you rambled and paused to look at Seungcheol, who smiled fondly at you.

“That’s why I asked if you were real, or something I made up because I was so desperate to feel loved and to be loved,” you admitted.

Seungcheol placed his hand over yours. “You feel safe with me?” He asked.

“The safest. I feel like I’m floating. When I’m with you, I feel like you’ve taken me to a place so high, where there is nothing but love and safety,” you babbled, letting your feelings pour out and making Seungcheol smile widely at you.

“Fuck, then, this is not a good time to say this is it?” Seungcheol said, and for a second, you felt like you had come down from the proverbial cloud you were floating on.

“Uh, say, what?” You fumbled, and Seungcheol grinned at you before leaning over to kiss your lips softly.

“To say that I love you,” Seungcheol admitted, making your eyes widen.

“To be honest, I’ve been meaning to say it for a while now.I just didn’t know if it was the right time or too soon, and I didn’t want to scare you off or anything, but hearing what you said made me realise that I too have nothing to fear when I’m with you,” Seungcheol confessed, making you? at his words as you moved to crawl into his lap.

“You love me?” You asked.

“I love you,” Seungcheol repeated, and you beamed at him.

“I love you more.”

Four Months Later: The First Crack in the Glass

“How was work?” You asked Seungcheol one evening, and he groaned as he flopped into your bed, wrapped his arms around your waist, and cuddled you, making you smile. Your boyfriend might have been a big shot and a fancy literature professor, but he was a giant teddy bear behind closed doors, and in moments like this, you were reminded of it.

“You want to know?” Seungcheol asked as he sat up and stood up to take off his shirt and pull off his work clothes to change into a more comfortable pair of sweats.

“I was teaching the kids about Sylvia Plath,” Seungcheol said slowly.

“Oh, shit, I’ve heard of her,” you said absentmindedly, and Seungcheol let out a soft hum.

“She’s one of the greatest writers, and you’ve only heard of her?” Seungcheol asked. There was a hint of condescension in his voice, and you couldn’t help but feel like there was a hint of judgment from him.

“Cheol, tell me about her work,” you said, trying to push down the funny feeling his words left you with.

“I mean, what can I say? You smiled, watching him, listening intently as he fell into a soliloquy about Sylvia Plath’s writing. “The woman was troubled. Like any great artist, she used her pain to create beauty. She turned her darkest thoughts into the most beautiful words,” Seungcheol explains.

“Who’s your favourite poet?” Seungcheol asked suddenly, and you shrugged.

“I don’t know if I have one. Literature was something I liked, and I enjoyed everything I read. I don’t think I cared enough to love one author exclusively,” you replied, earning a grunt from Seungcheol.

“You couldn’t have liked it enough if you can’t even tell me a favourite author. What about a poem or novel?” Seungcheol pressed, and you glared at him.

“You sound like an arrogant prick,” you mumbled, and Seungcheol laughed and held up his hands in defeat.

“Okay, I apologise,” Seungcheol said, but the smile on his face made you realise that he didn’t mean it.

“I loved the play A Doll’s House,” you said, and Seungcheol’s eyes widened.

“You’re familiar with Ibsen?” He asked, unable to mask the surprise in his voice.

“Just because I’m not some fancy fucking professor doesn’t make me stupid,” you said, inching away from him, and Seungcheol let out a soft sigh.

“What did you love the most about the play?” Seungcheol asked.

“I guess, like Nora, I too feel like I always need to be a certain way and that people have an expectation of what and how I should be,” you admitted, looking down at your blanket, and you felt Seungcheol pull you into his arms.

“I hope that’s not because of my thoughtless remarks?” Seungcheol asked, cupping your face with his large hands, and you shook your head.

“No, but I guess just life. I just see so many people my age settling down, with a family and kids, and everything, and they have a steady job, and just everything,” you mumbled, and Seungcheol nodded, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“So? That’s their journey, not yours, my love. You will have all those things when it’s right. You don’t need to rush it,” Seungcheol said, and you smiled at him.

“That’s one of my biggest insecurities, and I don’t think I’ve ever voiced it, not even to Mia,” you confessed.

“I appreciate that you trust me with it and know that it’s a feeling that I’ll keep safe with me,” Seungcheol promised his words making you melt.

“You’re my safety net?” You asked, and Seungcheol nodded.

“Yep,” Seungcheol responded.

“Oh, babe, my friends wanted to meet you, so I asked them over to dinner at mine, join me? I want to introduce them to the woman, who, I quote, ‘makes me less of a miserable bastard’,” Seungcheol explained.

“I’d love to,” you replied.“Wait, miserable bastard?” You asked, unable to fight the slight grin on your face.

“When Yoona and I ended things, I was a miserable bastard,” Seungcheol explained.

“Um, not to rehash shitty memories…” you started to say, and Seungcheol’s soft smile turned into a harsh glare as he spoke.

“Then don’t. I’m not interested in talking about her, and it’s none of your business,” Seungcheol snapped, and you nodded, feeling embarrassed for even bringing it up or attempting to.

“There are some things in life we keep to ourselves, right? For all our lives, a secret we take to our grave, Yoona, is that for me,” Seungcheol explained, and you sighed in acceptance, wondering how awful that relationship could have been for him to be still so resentful.

“I get it. You’ll never hear her name from me again,” you vowed.

“Thank you,” Seungcheol breathed out.

“Fuck, does this dress look okay?” You asked, waltzing out of Seungcheol’s bathroom in a black cocktail dress. Seungcheol barely looked up as he placed the wine glasses on the dinner table.

“Cheol,” you huffed, and he looked up at you.

“My friends will like you; they don’t care about what you wear,” Seungcheol said, and you walked over to the dining table with a sigh

“I get that, but still,” you trailed off, and Seungcheol shrugged.

You were about to respond when the doorbell rang. “Cool, they’re here. Just be yourself. They’ll like you,” Seungcheol affirmed, and you sighed, nodding, as you watched him open the door for his guests.

“Jeonghan, Chan, Mingyu, and Joshua, this my love, Y/N,” Seungcheol introduced you proudly, waving towards you as the four men walked into the house.You smiled and waved at them awkwardly.

“Why don’t we get a few drinks, and then we can all get acquainted?” Seungcheol offered, and the rest agreed with nods and hums.

“So, what do you do?” Jeonghan asked.

“Well, I’m a web designer, so I do a lot of freelance work,” you explained, and Jeonghan nodded, smiling. “That’s incredibly impressive,” Jeonghan complimented.

“What do you do?” You asked, and Jeonghan took a sip of his wine before answering.

“I also work with your boyfriend, except I teach law,” Jeonghan replied, and you nodded.

You were about to reply when you were suddenly interrupted by Seungcheol. “Oh, Jeonghan, don’t bore her; she’s not into the academia,” Seungcheol said. You knew he meant no harm by it, but it made you feel like an idiot.

Did your boyfriend think you weren’t smart enough to converse with someone other than him?

“Well, everyone likes criminal law, murders, and stuff,” Jeonghan joked, attempting to ease the tension, as he noticed how your face fell with Seungcheol’s comment.

“I know, I love watching crime documentaries,” you added. “Same. What would you say are your favourites? Forensic files?” Jeonghan asked.

“Y/N, you know that watching a documentary on crime, especially an extremely overproduced TV show, does not mean you understand the details of the law. You watch crime shows because you find it cool, but Jeonghan teaches the law. He respects and appreciates it immensely,” Seungcheol added, and you baulked at his words.

“Ignore him, Y/N, this pompous literature professor thinks that if you don’t like Sylvia Plath, you’re a disgrace as a reader. Seungcheol can’t understand that while her work is untouchable, it’s too much, and that’s not a mark of one’s intelligence. Rather what they like,” Jeonghan said. His last words were directed to Seungcheol and were emphasised with a particularly intense glare at him.

“Cheol, why don’t you look after the kids? Yeah, I think Joshua said something about replacing all your vintage books with decoys,” Jeonghan offered, and you were thankful for his comment as Seungcheol stalked off to the kitchen.

Jeonghan looked at you sympathetically before motioning for another man to join you in the conversation. He looked younger, and he had a bright smile.

“This is Chan. He’s the baby of the group,” Jeonghan said, and you couldn’t help but think that his words were a dig at you, but you saw no malice in his voice. He just wanted you to meet another face.

You started a conversation with Jeonghan and Chan; this time, it was just about lighthearted topics. Thankfully, Seungcheol didn’t interrupt with a patronising comment.

“Dinner’s set!” Seungcheol announced, and you sighed. You finally felt better about what happened between you two earlier, but you decided to swallow your pride and join him at the dining table.

“No way you did all this, Cheol,” A man you vaguely remember called Mingyu mumbled, and Seungcheol laughed.

“True, my love here..” Seungcheol said as he moved closer to you and wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you in to kiss your cheek softly.

“She helped. I would have burnt the bloody house down,” Seungcheol said.You took a deep breath before nodding in agreement.

You decided you’d chalk up Seungcheol’s initial crappy behaviour to him just being nervous, and maybe he just wanted to save you from a boring conversation but just had a terrible way of executing his plan.

You’d let it go and try to enjoy the rest of the night.

Except, that didn’t go to plan. Several minutes into the conversation, Seungcheol’s grip on your hand loosened, and by the time dessert was placed, Seungcheol had his chair tilted so that his back was facing you and no longer looking at you or engaging you in the conversation.

You felt awkward. Everyone in the room knew each other except you. You were the odd one out, and your boyfriend seemed completely fine ignoring you, too. You didn’t want him to coddle you, but you didn’t expect him to turn his back on you.

You placed your hand on Seungcheol’s back once to get his attention, but he merely shrugged it off, and you felt tears threatening to spill, so you politely and wordlessly excused yourself, not that anyone noticed.

You excused yourself to Seungcheol’s study, where you found yourself a bottle of wine, and decided to sip that and stayed all night and didn’t emerge until after dinner and his friends left.

“Hey, I thought I’d find you here. Why didn’t you join us for dinner? I told them you came down with a headache, but I got to say you didn’t make me look good, doing that,” Seungcheol explained as he walked into his study, and you rolled your eyes at him as you took another sip of your wine.

“I just wanted to introduce you to my friends, and you just decided you couldn’t be bothered?” Seungcheol scolds, and you scoff.

“Why are you so pissed off?” Seungcheol asked as he sat across you, and you stood up and walked over to the window.

“I’m not pissed off. Who said I was pissed off?” You said sarcastically, and Seungcheol sighed.

“You’re acting pissed off,” Seungcheol added. You sighed before speaking.

“You acted like I was a fucking dumbass; what the hell was the comment you gave to Jeonghan? That I’m not into academia, or that I can't understand the law because I watch a Netflix show about crime? You made me look like a fucking moron,” you spat.

“Look, whenever I try to show you anything about my work, you get bored, and you either fall asleep or can’t keep up. I was trying to save you that with Jeonghan,” Seungcheol replied, and you stared at him in shock.

“I don’t fall asleep because I’m not interested. I fall asleep because you talk to me like a student. You lecture me; if you spoke to me about your work the way you do with your friends, with that same enthusiasm, then maybe I’d pay more attention, but you fucking don’t!” You shot back, making Seungcheol sigh.

“So, what was I meant to do? Let you try and have a conversation with Jeonghan about the law, something you know nothing about?” Seungcheol asked, and you nearly slapped the smug look off his face.

“Fuck you. You don’t need to have a master’s degree or prior knowledge about a subject to be interested in it and for fucks sake. I just wanted to get to know your friends, but whenever I tried, you intercepted the conversation with a comment that just made me sound like a fucking child,” you yelled at him, and Seungcheol groaned.

“This was meant to be a good night, and you’re making it all about you,” Seungcheol mumbled.

“Me? How? You barely acknowledged me, you turned your fucking chair around and didn’t look at me during dinner. You barely tried to include me. Your friends, they’re all older than me, and you made no fucking effort to include me,” you yelled at Seungcheol.

“You have a mouth. You could speak up. No one would stop you,” Seungcheol offered, earning a glare from you.

“Why would I fucking do that? Whenever I contribute anything, you show up to either call me an idiot, or when I do try to get your attention actively, you fucking shrug me off. Do you know how that feels?” You asked, your voice trembling.

“Fuck don’t cry. That’s not fucking fair. I don’t even remember the fact I shrugged you off. You can’t attack me for something I don’t even know about,” Seungcheol retaliated.

“Fuck can you just acknowledge that you fucked up a little bit? You’re making me feel so fucking stupid,” you choked out, and Seungcheol shrugged.

“I don’t think I’m making you feel that way. I think you’re making yourself feel that way,” Seungcheol offered, and you glared at him.

“Fine, then, if I’m so fucking stupid. Then, I should just let you be. I’m going home. I don’t want you to feel even more stupid with me around,” you snarled, slamming your wine glass down hard enough to startle Seungcheol but not hard enough to break the glass.

You stormed out of the room as Seungcheol helplessly followed after you. “Wait, Y/N, fucking wait. It’s late, please just stay until the morning, and I’ll drop you off; I can’t drive you home yet, I’ve had too much to drink for it to be safe,” Seungcheol argued, and you scowled at him.

“I don’t fucking need this. I can take a cab,” you said, grabbing your phone, and Seungcheol shook his head at you.

“Not a fucking chance, not so late, please; just let me sober up, and I’ll drive you back?” Seungcheol pleaded, and you gave in.

“I’m going to clean up,” you said, shoving past him and heading into the kitchen as you started to clean up the mess.

“Let me help,” Seungcheol offered, and you ignored him. “Babe, please, I’m fucking sorry, just let me help you?” Seungcheol asked again, and you failed to notice how close he was standing next to you. You bumped into him, managing to drench yourself in red wine.

“Fuck,” you hissed out as the tears threatened to spill over.

“Go, take a shower, I’ll clean up,” Seungcheol said, taking the glasses out of your hands, and you nodded as you silently walked back to the bedroom and stripped, putting your black dress in the laundry hamper and stepping into the shower.

You felt the tears stream down your face. As you washed up, you started to rationalise the fight in your mind. Maybe you had overreacted, or maybe Seungcheol just got caught up in the moment, hell you’ve been guilty of that yourself when you meet your friends, so why should you hold him to a different standard?

You stepped out of the shower, wrapped yourself in one of Seungcheol’s fluffy white towels, and headed out of the bathroom to find Seungcheol sitting looking forlorn on the edge of the bed.

“I’m fucking sorry,” Seungcheol mumbled, and you sighed as you leant against the wall.

“I may have overreacted a bit. I just wanted to feel loved, but I get it, time and place,” you said.

“I do love you, and tonight I acted like a fucking ass. I just wanted to impress my friends, and I did it at your expense. Can you forgive me?” Seungcheol asked.

“I can,” you said, holding out your hand to him, which he took and walked over until he was towering over you.

“How can I make it up to you?” Seungcheol asked as he placed a soft kiss on your lips, which you gladly reciprocated.

“Well,” you started to say as you undid the towel, letting it drop to the floor, and Seungcheol smiled at you.

“You want to make it up to me, Cheol?” Seungcheol nodded furiously. You reached down and placed your hand gently on the top of his head and moved his head so his face was at your cunt.

“Show me how sorry you are,” you said, guiding his head into your pussy. Seungcheol gently pushed your back into the wall. He lifted your leg and wrapped it around his shoulder. He started by placing soft kisses, gently kissing your cunt. He ran his tongue over your folds, moaning as he tasted your arousal.

“So sweet,” Seungcheol praised and dove back in with more desperation. He moved his tongue to your clit, and flicked his tongue against it. You moaned in approval, and he continued his movements.

He suddenly pulled his mouth away from your core, lifted you, and walked over to your bed. He laid you down gently, and his mouth found your cunt again. Seungcheol positioned himself on his knees at the edge of the bed, his tongue now reaching your entrance. He pushed his tongue inside you, and you mewled at the feeling. He shoved his tongue further into your cunt, and his hand reached your clit.

He rubbed at the swollen nub, and you soon found yourself cumming on his tongue. Your hips bucked against his face as you rode out your orgasm. As soon as you got down from your high, Seungcheol shoved two fingers into your pussy making you squeal at the oversensitivity.

He pushed his fingers deep inside of you until he reached a rough patch of skin, and you squealed. He smirked, and he started moving his wrist up and down, making his fingers repeatedly hit the spot inside you. It had you seeing stars.

Your second orgasm hit you harder as you felt yourself squirt for him. You were clawing at the bedsheet for support; the way he made your body feel was incredible. He latched his full lips around your swollen clit as he furiously pumped his fingers inside you, and a few short licks and you fell apart again.

You whimpered into the bedsheet, which was now soaking wet, and you reached your hands out for him. He smirked, and he pushed you back further onto the bed as he stripped himself. Seungcheol then climbed over and on top of you. He grabbed your legs and wrapped them around his waist. His hard cock was resting against your aching cunt. Just seeing his length made you delirious.

He was so thick the first time you had sex with him, you couldn’t even comprehend his thickness. He made you feel so full and had indeed ruined you for other men. His length was perfect, it was able to go deep inside you, and the thickness another word allowed you to feel so good. He filled you up. You bucked your hips against him, rubbing your wet folds against his cock, and he hissed at that. He pushed himself into you, and you moaned at the stretch.

His hands moved to unwrap your legs and positioned them around his neck. The new position allowed him to go deeper, and he pushed deep into your cunt. His thrusts were paced perfectly. Slow enough to make you feel every inch of his cock, and fast enough to make you moan.

“Harder, Cheol,” you whimpered, and Seungcheol smirked. He pulled out of you and flipped you over onto your hands and knees. He realigned himself and pushed into you.

You and Seungcheol always played rough and pushed each other beyond your limits. Your pussy was making obscene noises as you had cummed so hard. He picked up his pace, knowing he would not last much longer, and his grip went to your throat. You somehow found the ability to tap his hand, letting him know to choke you harder. You liked it, and so did he.

His grip around you tightened. He pushed into you, and you fell apart again. This time, you screamed into the pillow, and Seungcheol released not too long after you. He flipped you back over, laying you down on your back. He moved down again to your pussy, and licked and sucked. He moaned, tasting your release and his.

He always did this; he wanted to lick your pussy after cumming inside you. You didn’t complain. A few more licks and one final suck to your entrance, and you came once again. He placed the last kiss on your cunt and pulled you into his arms.

“I’m still so fucking sorry,” Seungcheol apologised, and you rolled over to place your head on his chest.

“It’s okay, just don’t do it again?” You said, and Seungcheol nodded, pulling you into a soft kiss as he held you until you fell asleep in his arms. The feeling of safety was still there, but why did it feel like there was a slight tear in the safety net that was your love?

You shook it off, thinking it was expected. Couples fought.

You two would be fine.

“Morning gorgeous,” Seungcheol mumbled the following day as he wrapped his arms around your waist while you made tea.

“Hi,” you replied, turning around to face him as he pulled you into a soft kiss.

“I want to talk to you about something,” Seungcheol said, and you looked at him nervously.

“Chill, it’s not a bad thing. Well it is, but it doesn’t affect us,” Seungcheol explained as he guided you into the living room and onto the sofa.

“Yoona, she was my first love, my first everything. Well, not everything, but she sure felt like it. I thought she and I would be together for the rest of our lives. I proposed, and she said yes, and somewhere along the road, everything went wrong. I found out she cheated several times while we were engaged,” Seungcheol explained as you held your breath.

“So, whenever she is mentioned, I get agitated because she ruined me and made me cynical until I met you. You make me happy, happier than I’ve been in a very long time,” Seungcheol explained, and you sighed, feeling terrible for him.

“I want to continue making you happy for a long time, Seungcheol. I won’t ever hurt you like her,” you promised, making him smile at you.

“I love you, and I’m sorry for last night. Look, there’s a cocktail party at the university next Friday evening. I’d like you there and want to show you off to everyone. I want to show off my girl,” Seungcheol said proudly.

“I’d like that,” you said, placing your lips on his plush ones.

You, too, would be fine. It was a slip-up, not a crack in the safety net—just a slip.

“Good god, I was starting to think that Seungcheol had kidnapped you or something,” Mia joked, making you laugh nervously as she entered your apartment and hugged you tightly.

“Why would you think that?” You asked, genuinely concerned about why your best friend had such a vivid imagination.

“Well, you’ve only spoken to me a few times within the four months that you and Seungcheol have been dating, and I say this with as much honesty as I can. Don’t become one of those girls that ditches all her friends once she finds a guy,” Mia joked, but you knew there was some weight to her words.

“Mia, that was in university, and it happened once. I’m not the same person anymore,” you defended, and Mia nodded.

“So why did you want me to come over, girls’ night, or trouble in paradise?” Mia asked, and how you chewed your bottom lip nervously was enough of a tell for Mia to sigh and understand.

“Why don’t you sit? I’ll grab the wine, and I’ll explain everything,” you explained another word, and Mia nodded as she kicked off her shoes and got comfortable on your couch.

You handed her a glass of cabernet and held another glass for yourself as you sat down on the sofa and started telling her about every detail for the last four months. It was going well until you finished recalling the details of last night’s fight.

“Wait, he did fucking what, and you fucking forgave him? Why because he made you cum?” Mia accused, and you cringed. You had just finished recounting the entire story of the dinner with Seungcheol.

“He made a mistake,” you mumbled, and Mia scoffed. “A mistake is forgetting to order dessert, not ignoring your girlfriend, or treating her like she’s a bumbling idiot!” Mia fired back, making you sink into your seat.

“Sorry, you need to talk to him about this. Sex is not an apology, and why did you forgive him? Did he just gaslight you into forgiving him? Is that what happened? Did he say that you’re being crazy or shit like that?” Mia interrogated, and you kept shrinking in your seat.

“Mia, shut up. Stop using such extreme words for him,” you whimpered. You didn’t like how loud her voice had gotten, and she sighed.

“He used sex as an apology. Y/N, do you not know how big of a red flag that is? And the fact that you gave in makes it even worse because you’ve now set the precedent that he can pull this sort of shit with you, and you’ll forgive him if he makes you cum hard enough!” Mia rattled off, and you wanted to smack her if it meant shutting her up. Instead of being rational, you decided to defend your boyfriend, even if it meant doing it at the expense of hurting your best friend.

“Mia fuck you. You were in a relationship with, what was that guy’s name, you remember, the one who cheated on you for four months straight, and you kept taking him back. You’re going to lecture me about being spineless in my relationship when you let a guy walk all over you for four months straight because you were so fucking desperate!” You snarled and regretted the minute the words left your lips because you saw how hurt overtook Mia’s face and how her lower lips trembled.

“I haven’t seen this side of you in a while. You were like this in university, where once you fell for a guy, you became blind to his every flaw and then lashed out at anyone who tried to tell you otherwise. You know what, Y/N, you know where I live. Find me when you decide to take off your rose-coloured glasses. I can’t bear the sight of you right now,” Mia said, placing the wine glass down on your coffee table and storming out of your house.

You felt awful, but Mia was wrong to assume that Seungcheol would use sex as an apology instead of actually apologising instead. You shook your head and sighed, finishing your glass of wine. You would reach out to Mia eventually.

“Fucking hell, you look beautiful, my love. I might just be the luckiest man alive,” Seungcheol praised as you stepped out of your bedroom.

You wore a red evening gown that exposed enough of your chest to be enticing but also respectable for a formal event at a university. You topped off your look with makeup that brought out your best features and slipped on red strappy heels.

“Shall we?” Seungcheol asked.You looked up at him. He was wearing a black suit, and you honestly wanted to skip the university party and have him take you right here. Now, as if he could read your thoughts, Seungcheol laughed.

“Don’t worry, you can rip this suit off me after tonight,” Seungcheol said, making you laugh too as you took his hand and headed to the party.

“Y/N! So lovely to see you again,” Jeonghan greeted when you and Seungcheol entered the venue.

“What about me?” Seungcheol joked childishly, making Jeonghan roll his eyes.

“Needy, isn’t he?” Jeonghan teased, and you laughed.

“But you love me,” Seungcheol said, and you smiled

“I do,” you said, making him smile backbefore he looked up, and he suddenly froze as his eyes fixated on a figure across the room.

“Cheol?” You asked, noticing how Jeonghan also looked tense as both men intently stared at the figure, now making her way across the room to greet them.

“Jeonghan, my favourite law professor, you know my students miss you dearly!” The lady joked.

“Yoona,” Jeonghan acknowledged, and you, like Seungcheol, felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room.

This was Yoona?

This was the woman that broke Seungcheol’s heart? This woman, who Seungcheol failed to explain, worked alongside him. She was a colleague of his. He saw her every day at work, and nowhere during the four months did he think to mention that he still worked alongside his ex-fiancé.

You also felt Seungcheol let go of your hand, and you could have sworn he inched away from you.

“Seungcheol, it’s so lovely to see you, and who might this be?” Yoona asked as her gaze turned to you, making you gulp and then pale in horror as Seungcheol could not answer for a second.

“She’s a friend,” Seungcheol mumbled, and you saw Jeonghan shake his head slightly, and you sighed at him, holding your hand to out to Yoona

“Pleasure to meet you. How do you know Seungcheol?” You asked, feigning innocence, and you heard Seungcheol fail to bite back a hiss.

“I’m a colleague of his, and oh, I guess we have some history, actually pun intended on that.I teach art history here. Are you a prospective student?” Yoona asked, and you stared at her and looked back to see Seungcheol ’s poker face staring back at you.

“No, I’m not a student. I’m amazed that you’d think that,” you replied, unable to keep the slight bite use a different word your tone had to it.

“Well, what do you?” Yoona asked, and you were about to answer when Yoona beat you to the punch.

“Well, you must be a fellow academic. Our Cheol here has a type,” Yoona said as she shot you a wink and waltzed away from the conversation, leaving you a mess and Seungcheol angry.

“Okay, I’m going to leave you two to it,” Jeonghan said as he rushed off too. You started to feel the room close in on you and you just wanted to leave.

“Would you excuse me? I need to make a phone call,” you said hastily as you ripped your arm out of Seungcheol’s hold and nearly ran out of the ballroom and outside to a quieter area of the venue until you found a secluded bench to sit on as you gathered your thoughts.

“I thought I’d find you here,” you turned around to see Seungcheol standing, staring at you withhis hands in his pockets and looking at you with an emotion you couldn’t decipher. Was it guilt or annoyance?

“That’s Yoona?” You asked, and Seungcheol simply stared at you.

“The Yoona?” You repeated, and Seungcheol sighed, nodding as he walked over to stand across from you. You could not look at him.

“What?” Seungcheol asked, and you let out a dry laugh at his ability to be so damn obtuse.

“This is the woman who broke your fucking heart. You work alongside her, and you never once thought to, oh, I don’t know, mention that she is not only your ex but your fucking colleague?” You snarled another word, and Seungcheol sighed.

“Grow up, adultshave to- what?” Seungcheol paused mid-speech when he saw you glaring at him.

“Do not fucking patronise me. This is not an age issue. Your ex,who at the mention of her name, you become a frigid bastard.You failed to mention that you work with her!” You repeated, raising your voice.

“What do you fucking expect me to do to? Run away? We met here, fuck, I’m a grown man. I can’t run from my problems!” Seungcheol shouted back, and you sighed.

“You don’t get it do you?” You choked out.

“No, because you’re acting like a fucking child, and I am not one. I need to deal with every situation, no matter how unpleasant it is!” Seungcheol spat.

“Fuck, shut the fuck up about being more mature because you’re not, not even for a fucking second. How the fuck do you expect to have a future with me when your past is there in front of your eyes every fucking day, and the worst part is that you never told me. You act as if I gave you this new lease on love, but now I don’t know if that’s something you can sustain because the woman who broke your heart is your colleague. What if one day she wants to try again? How do I know that I know that you won’t go running?” You rambled, letting a tear slide down your face.

“You’re being selfish and so fucking unfair,” Seungcheol retorted.“Do you not think so?” Seungcheol asked rhetorically

.“Fucking hell, I told you she cheated on me while I was fucking engaged. Do you think I have no dignity or some shit that I’d go back running to the woman who ruined me?” Seungcheol yelled, and you shrank into yourself.

“Can you just do what I do, and fucking grow up and realise that in life you need to put up with people who you may not what anything to do with, but that’s what being an adult is like?” Seungcheol continued to yell, each word piercing your heart.

“Oh, then again, what would you fucking know about being an adult? You are a 25-year-old with no fucking direction in life. You have no stable job or anything stable. In contrast, all your friends are either settling down, and you fuck, you sit at home with no motivation to go out and find yourself some work,” Seungcheol yelled, using your biggest insecurity against you.

“You have no fucking stability, and you act like a fucking child, so don’t you dare lecture me on how to behave,” Seungcheol spat and then sighed deeply when he realised what he said.

“Y/N-,” Seungcheol started to say, and you held your hand up to him.

“No, fuck don’t, Cheol, don’t you fucking dare. You used my biggest insecurity against me. Who the fuck does that, huh?” You asked, and Seungcheol sighed, looking down.

“As for stability, you’re right. I don’t have a ton, but if there was something that I thought gave me some semblance of stability, I thought it’d be you.I thought that at least it would you, but you aren’t my safety net anymore, are you?” You yelled, and Seungcheol looked down in shame.

“I’m sorry. I told you seeing her makes me turn into something else!” Seungcheol weakly defended, and you glared at him.

“No. Fuck you, you don’t get to do this. What about being an adult, huh? Being an adult means not getting set off by every situation that doesn’t favour you. Instead, it’s about finding ways to cope. It’s about setting boundaries, so your past doesn’t hurt you and hurt the people in your present,” you choked out the last word as Seungcheol took a step forward towards you.

“Y/N,” Seungcheol started to say, and you ignored him.

“Just fucking go back to your party. I’m going home. I’ll text you, but please leave me alone for tonight,” you said, pushing past Seungcheol.

“Please let me know when you get home,” Seungcheol said weakly, and you rolled your eyes at him.

“I said I would, didn’t I? Now, fucking move,” you spat, storming out of the garden and out of the venue as you waited for your Uber to arrive.

You had barely gotten home that night when you heard someone pounding on your front door. You groaned, knowing it was Seungcheol. You glared at the front door, hoping that if you ignored the incessant pounding, then he’d get the hint and he’d just leave, but Seungcheol was relentless. You knew that.

You sighed, walking to the front door and opening it to reveal your teary-eyed boyfriend.

“Baby, can I please explain?” Seungcheol asked, and you ignored him as you let him into your house, and he closed the front door behind him.

You started walking back into the house, Seungcheol trailing behind you. Once you were inside, you turned to him, and before you could say anything. Seungcheol dropped to his knees, hugging your waist, begging for forgiveness. You ran your hands through his hair.

“Cheol, it’s okay.”

Seungcheol carried you to the shower, where he helped you shower and clean. He helped you dry up and pulled you into his arms once you were both curled up on the bed.

Seungcheol ’s fingers were gently ghosting your cunt. You felt him turn you to face him; he captured your lips in his full ones. His hand finding your core, rubbing your clit, he did this till you fell apart. He repeated that almost four times until he pushed himself inside you till he came.

You couldn’t sleep that night. Only one question plagued your mind.

Since when did sex make up for an apology?

You woke up the following day sore and worn out. Not just from the fight last night that left you out and alone in the cold but also from Seungcheol fucking you into the mattress. You heard faint snores from him, and you took it as an opportunity to get some alone time. You wondered, did he think sex would make up for what had happened?

After showering and cleaning yourself up, you headed to the kitchen to make breakfast, subconsciously making breakfast for two. You were stirring the noodles waiting for the water to boil, when you felt two strong arms wrap around your waist. You felt Seungcheol place kisses along your neck, and you melted into his embrace for a second until the events of last night came back to you.

“Cheol, can you set the table up? I’ll get breakfast ready.” You said and you felt Seungcheol press a kiss to your cheek before running off to set the dining table. Once you made your way over with the contents of breakfast, you sat down and started to eat.

“Baby?” Seungcheol’s voice broke the silence, and you looked up to see him staring at you. His eyes were red, brimming with tears. You felt your heart clench.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry about last night,” Seungcheol started to apologise again; his voice was breaking as he tried to contain himself.

“Which part, Seungcheol? The part where you failed to introduce me as your girlfriend, or the part where you threw my insecurities against me, or the part where you told me to grow the fuck up?” You fumed.

“All of it, all of it,” Seungcheol said, standing up to kneel in front of you. “I fucked up so much, but,” Seungcheol started to say, and you interrupted him.

“If you think that fucking me last night made it better, it didn’t because now I’m wondering if you think sex is the solution to all our problems,” you said.

“Never, I just, I’m shit with words at times, and I knew that at least my actions could prove my love to you. It’s a shit thing to do, but I didn’t do it to distract you from last night,” Seungcheol replied.

“I want to talk about everything, but I want a breakdown of everything. First, why did you pull away from me when you saw Yoona? Were you embarrassed?” you asked, your voice breaking, and Seungcheol shook his head.

“Of course not,” Seungcheol replied swiftly, and you glared at him.

“Because all I do wonder if when you call what we have love, you never call it what it is,” you admitted, and Seungcheol sighed as he stood up.

“Come on, let’s talk on the couch,” Seungcheol offered, and you stood up, taking Seungcheol ’s hand as you walked over to your couch.

“I tell you, I love you,” Seungcheol said, and you nodded.

“You do tell me that you love me, but the way you do it is like it’s a secret,” you mumbled, feeling a tear roll down your cheek.

“I get that I’m younger, and I’m not some fancy professor with a huge savings account, but the way you act at times, you act like you are ashamed of me. Fuck, for Yoona to say that you deviated from your type to date me. What does that mean? Am I some charity case, where you’ll date a non-academic girl, and then later I’ll be a notch in your belt, a funny story to tell over Christmas, with your real wife, and everything?” You babbled as you broke into a sob, and you felt Seungcheol pull you into his arm as he hugged you tightly.

“You think about a future with me?” Seungcheol asked, and you scoffed.

“Is that all you took from everything I just said?” You asked.

“No, but it gave me hope. Look, Yoona brings out the worst in me, and you were right last night to tell me that as adults, we can let that jar us or act out because that’s life, right? Meeting people and getting to know people you may not like is life, but Yoona, at one point, was my life. She was my future until she ruined it. Every time I see her, I lash out because I’m brought back to the headspace that I was in when she cheated,” Seungcheol explained, pausing to take a breath.

“She reminds me of every insecurity I had, she takes me back to a very dark headspace, and instead of working my way out of that, I lash out because fuck, I’m scared that it’ll happen again,” Seungcheol admitted looking down.

“You think I’d cheat on you?” You asked.

“No, but you’re young, gorgeous, and still have so much ahead of you. I woudn’t blame you if you found someone your age,” Seungcheol mumbled, making you scoff again.

“I’m with you, aren’t I? Unless this is your plan? Pushing me so far that I no longer want to be with you? Is that what you’re trying to do?” You asked, and Seungcheol shook his head immediately.

“Then why the fuck is this constantly an issue?” You snapped, and Seungcheol winced slightly at your tone.

“I guess when I first started dating you, you were so different and, in a good way, a fresh breath of air, but everyone around me started joking that maybe you know it was just a fling because we are so opposite at times. However, as the months with you progressed, I know that’s not it.I know I love you, and I’m so fucking sorry that for so long I made you feel otherwise,”

Seungcheol paused to take a breath. “I love you, and I am serious about this. I want to make this work, I do,” Seungcheol admitted another word.

“Then stop lashing out at me and talk to me. Stop running away from me, run to me instead,” you said softly, and Seungcheol smiled at you.

“I didn’t mean what I said about you having no stability. It was so fucking shitty of me to use your insecurity against you. I just, fuck, there’s no excuse, I’m just fucking sorry,” Seungcheol apologised, his head hanging low.

“Yeah, that stung. Look, how about we take a week, cool off, and I guess catch up in a week?” You offered, and Seungcheol agreed.

“How’s this, I’ll plan a getaway for us, and I’ll cook us food too!” Seungcheol suggested, and you laughed.

“I’ll follow a recipe to a tee and have Mingyu monitor me?” Seungcheol proposed making you grin at him.

“Fine, but if I get sick from your food,” you started to say, and Seungcheol laughed.

“Then I’ll kiss it all better for you,” Seungcheol said lamely.

“I’ll see you in a week, my love, and remind you why you fell in love with me,” Seungcheol promised as he placed a soft kiss on your lips, and you smiled as you watched him walk away.

You let out a breath you didn’t realise that you were holding when he walked away. You nodded to yourself. You and Seungcheol would be fine, this was a slight tear in the safety net, but you two would be fine, you convinced yourself, for it was only a tiny tear.

“Hey,” you mumbled, embarrassed, as Mia opened her front door the following evening.

“What, have you come here to tell me I deserve no love or something?” Mia spat, and you felt like you had been slapped, and looked down in shame. You deserved that much.

“Mia, I fucked up. Can we talk, though?” You asked, holding the box of doughnuts in your hand, and she sighed, nodding as she let you in.

“So, what, I’m assuming the Mr. Perfectly Wrong fucked up again?” Mia mocked, and you sighed as you kicked off your shoes and sat on her couch.

“He was engaged in the past, and she was like his dream girl,” you said, unable to stop the way your voice trembled at recalling Yoona and realising how she was the opposite of you. She was dignified, elegant, older, wiser, or whatever other negative thought you tortured yourself with.

“She still works with him. They both teach at the university; he never told me, Mia. I had to find out because I met her at a university event,” you mumbled, unable to stop the tear that slid down your face.

Mia sighed as she sat down next to you, and you took it as a positive sign to launch into the story of the fight.

“Oh, that mother fucker!” Mia swore, and you flinched at her expression.

“Mia, he was hurt,” you mumbled, and she scoffed.

“How many excuses do you want to give this piece of shit? I get that love is blind. I fucking do. You cruelly pointed it out to me, but let me tell you something, my love, he’s blinded you. He’s no good for you. He’s condescending, judgmental, rude, and worst of all you keep forgiving him when he gives you half-assed apologies!” Mia ranted, making you look down in shame.

“Is that who you want to fucking be with?” Mia asked. “A man who keeps you like a secret, aman who acts like you’re a kid, a man who talks down to you?” You sighed.

“Maybe it’s just a bad spell. He’s not like this, ever,” you defended, and Mia groaned, rubbing her forehead.

“This man, I don’t care how good the sex is or how amazing the good moments are. The good moments aren’t enough to mask that he is inherently flawed and has a complex. A complex that he will project onto you, and you will struggle to try to meet the ideal woman in his head. Still, you’ll try all your life because that woman doesn’t exist, and not to be unkind, but it’s because that woman will never exist for him. He doesn’t know what he wants,” Mia explained, calming down as she sat down next to you.

“He said he loved me,” you mumbled weakly, and Mia nodded.

“I’m not denying that he cares for you, but his ego comes before you, Y/N. You will bend over backward for this man, and you have, but see if he even bothers to put in an ounce of that same effort that you put into this relationship,” Mia continued , and you glared at her.

“You know what? I didn’t come here to be yelled at. I get enough of that from him!” You seethed, and Mia frowned at you.

“There, right there, if you can’t even figure out what’s so fucked up about that sentence, then I don’t know what even to tell you,” Mia said.

“We’ve hit a rough spot, but we’ll be fine,” you shouted, almost as if you were convincing yourself more than Mia.

“You know what, I’ll be here when this illusion is broken,” Mia mumbled, standing up, and you took that as your cue to leave.

You stormed out of Mia’s house and drove straight to Seungcheol’s.

“Baby?” Seungcheol asked when he opened the door and saw your downcast expression.

“What’s wrong?” Seungcheol asked, and you shook your head at him.

“Can I stay here? I know we’re meant to meet at the end of the week, but I just need you,” you asked.

“Of course, my love, you know where everything is. I just have to grade one more paper. Then I’ll join you?” Seungcheol asked.

You were so worn out from the week's dramatics that you quickly showered, changed into one of Seungcheol ’s shirts, and headed to bed. You curled up in Seungcheol ’s bed. You smiled when you felt him join you later that night, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist.

Protecting you, never letting you go, he was your safe space.

You woke up the following morning to something stroking your thighs, and you opened your eyes to see Seungcheol ’s head placed between your legs. He was kissing your inner thighs, slowly making his way to your cunt.

You moaned as you spread your legs, placing them onto his shoulders. Seungcheol ’s luscious lips wrapped around your clit.

As he sucked, his pressure was perfect. He pushed in two fingers and thrust them in your cunt, as he sucked on your clit. He licked and fingered until you came around his fingers. Occasionally, he would run his tongue up and down your wet folds but always go back to your cunt.

“Morning, princess,” Seungcheol greeted as he hovered over your body and captured your lips in a sweet kiss. It felt like the first time you slept with him.

Passionate yet soft, you felt loved, and that was not something you felt in his embrace for a while.

“Morning, handsome,” you mumbled sleepily as Seungcheol pulled you on top of him. You felt his cock hard and waiting. You moved and sat up and slowly sank on his length.

“Fuck!” You let out a groan of pleasure. He felt so good inside you. You lifted your legs and started moving your hips, riding him. You felt his grip tighten on your thighs as he helped you ride him.

You wanted to see him fall apart underneath you. You trailed your hands to his fingers, and your nails grazed his nipples, making him buck into you. You moaned as his hips pushed his cock deeper inside you. You kept riding him until you felt him still and released inside you. You sighed, feeling his warmth fill up your cunt. You hadn’t cum yet, and Seungcheol knew that.

“Princess, over here,” Seungcheol motioned to your mouth, and you moved, legs shaking as you sat on his waiting tongue. Seungcheol, as always, licked you clean of his cum.

You both were still in bed in the afternoon, simply embracing and kissing each other, when Seungcheol spoke, breaking the silence.

“So, do you want to make the trip a little earlier?” Seungcheol asked, and you looked at him, smiling.

“Can you take leave on such short notice?” You asked.

“Baby, it’s reading week for the students, so yes, I don’t need to worry about them for now. I want to focus on us.”

~~A Trip Upstate~~

“Got everything?” You asked Seungcheol for the fifth time. You had to stop yourself from laughing as your boyfriend kept going back and forth between his apartment and his car, forgetting something with each trip.

“Wait, oh, for the fucking love of god. I forgot the car keys,” Seungcheol groaned as he ran back into the house, and you laughed at him some more. You were still laughing when he came back.

“Hi,” Seungcheol said sweetly as he wrapped his arms around your waist, capturing you in a warm hug.

“I like seeing you like this, happy and laughing,” Seungcheol said, making you smile at him.

“Well, you make me laugh and happy,” you admitted, placing your chin on his chest and looking up at him.

“I’ve been fucking that up a lot, but I promise you, this time I won’t fuck up. I love you, and I need to get back to showing you that it’s not an empty promise,” Seungcheol spoke, and you reached up to pull him into a soft kiss.

“I love you, and thank you,” you mumbled against his lips.

“Shall we, my love? There’s a nice cabin I want to take you to upstate, and it has our names written on it,” Seungcheol said , and you nodded as he helped you into the car.

The drive up to the cabin was filled with jokes, laughter, and a few kisses here and there. It felt normal. Like you finally got your Seungcheol back, like all the fights could be forgotten because he was back to normal here. However, that hope ended the second you and Seungcheol started fighting over how to cook a dish.

“Why are you so mean about this? I’m helping you; you don’t even know how to peel a fucking onion!” You snapped at Seungcheol, who was crushing the microwavable rice packet.

“I might not know how to peel a fucking onion, but at least I’m not a 25-something that has no fucking direction in life!” Seungcheol spat back, making you exhale deeply.

“Y/N,” Seungcheol started to say, and you glared at him.

“No, Cheol, what the fuck, what the actual fuck? You’ve been using my insecurity against me twice now, and what-do you think each time you apologise, I’ll come back crawling? Or something? I’m tired of this, and I’m,” you took a deep breath to collect yourself.

You would not let Seungcheol see you fall apart, not when he was the reason behind the tears.

“We’re done,” You stated calmly, glaring at Seungcheol, who didn’t dare follow you as you walked away,.You grabbed your overnight bag and called an Uber, heading out of the cabin.

You weren’t sure if you had properly ended the relationship between the two of you, but you were tired of constantly giving him the benefit of the doubt, and for him to only shatter it the second he felt remotely attacked.

1 Month Later: The Breaking Point

“Don’t you fucking dare,” you mumbled to Mia, who had picked you up from the floor of your house last night. You had called her on your way back home, and thankfully she didn’t ask many questions, and just tried to help you.

Since you left Seungcheol, you didn’t know where you two stood. He made no effort to contact you, so you just assumed that since you yelled. “We are done,” at him, that you were.

Seungcheol took the hint and left you, but what pained you the most was that he could never run after you.

You craved his touch, his voice. You wanted him, but his lack of effort made you think he wanted nothing to do with you. Were you just a waste of time for him?

You thought that what you two had was a masterpiece, or what was that before he tore it all apart? Or was it you? Were you the one who tore it all to pieces?

All that to say, you had held yourself together, well, or at least you could put on a happy face. You just plastered on a fake smile and went on about your day. You put your efforts into your job out of spite.

You wanted to prove to Seungcheol that you weren’t some bumbling idiot, but instead, you were a 25-year-old with things going for her. You wanted him to see you wanted him to be proud of you, but he wasn’t here to see it. Maybe he never cared.

Your breaking point was this afternoon. You had just secured a huge contract, and just as you had signed on the dotted line, you wanted to share it with Seungcheol. You froze mid-text when you realised that he wouldn’t care. He wouldn’t care if you had done something remarkable because you two were done, so why should he care?

So, you started bawling at home and shakily dialed Mia’s number, and that’s when she came to your rescue. She came to find you when you were at your lowest, and you felt guilt engulf you. You had defended Seungcheol to her, insulting her viciously, but she never batted an eyelid.

“You know most people say thank you,” Mia joked, and you sighed.

“I am thankful, trust me, more than you know. I know you want to say I told you so, so go for it,” you snapped, and Mia shook her head as she helped you sit on the couch.

“He lost the one real thing he had. That’s not on you. He never fought enough for you,” Mia explained as she pulled you into a gentle hug, which made you blubber and, thus, make you cry more.

“Nothing, nothing from him, for a fucking month, Mia! Nothing. I thought he loved me and saw a future with me and all that bullshit, but he did not fucking bother, not once, to even be like, are you okay? Nothing, he just, fuck, wait, I think my phone is ringing in the bag. Can you help me grab it?” You asked, and Mia nodded, scrunching her nose at the private number.

“I swear if it’s that fucker calling through a random ass number to get to you, he’s going to get the living lights smacked out of him,” Mia threatened as she handed your phone to you.

“Hello?” You answered.

“Hello, Miss Y/N. We have been given your number as an emergency contact. Do you know Mr. Choi Seungcheol ?”

“I’m sorry. Who are you?” You asked, your voice trembling. What happened to Seungcheol?

“Sorry, I’m Nurse Lee. I’m calling from the Seoul National Hospital. We have been given your number as an emergency, so we are calling to ask if you could come down and sign a few things for us?” You sighed in relief, but only slightly.

You got into your car, not caring if you got a fine for speeding. You reached the hospital and parked, running in your heels to the main lobby. You frantically explained that you got a call and were quickly ushered upstairs to the wards.

You heard laughing and opened the door to see your ex-boyfriend laughing with the doctor. His eyes widened as he saw, and just like that, his laughter faded. The doctor noticed your presence, and he waved you in.

“You must be Y/N. Thank you for coming here. We just need to discharge him, and we need you to sign a few forms for him.” You nodded, still confused, “I’ll be back in around thirty minutes. I’ll let you two catch up.” The doctor left the room and left you both alone.

“Cheol?” You said softly.

Seungcheol wasn’t looking at you. You walked to his bedside when you saw there was enough space. You sat down slowly and held his face in your hands. He reluctantly looked at you.

“What happened?” you asked. You let go of his face so he could talk.

“It’s not a big deal,” He said. You rolled your eyes.

“It is, especially if you’re in the hospital.” You countered.

“Don’t laugh.” He said, warning you. You nodded. “So, long story short, I may have dropped a knife on my foot.” You looked at him, perplexed.

“How?” “I was cooking, and it was going well. Then the knife slid off the counter and onto my foot. I didn’t lose a toe, just a lot of blood. So yeah, by the time I got here, I passed out from blood loss, and I guess that’s why they called you.” He blurted in one go, and you tried to stifle a laugh.

“Seriously?” He said, but you could hear the smile in his voice. His heart warmed at the sight of you smiling. It had been so long since he was the reason for your smile.

“I’m so sorry, but why were you trying to cook?” You asked.

Seungcheol ’s laugh faded, and he paused. “I noticed a lot about me that I’m not good at. Cooking is at the top. I felt as if I could attempt to conquer that maybe I can do more in life,” Seungcheol looked down at his hands covered in wires. You touched his thigh, making him look at you.

“You are good at so much,” you countered, and Seungcheol shook his head.

“Professionally, maybe, but my personality? No. Nothing great there,” Seungcheol said, resignation lacing his tone. You opened your mouth to say something, and Seungcheol spoke first. “I’m not saying this to guilt-trip you into taking me back. After you broke up with me, I started seeing someone,” your hand jerked away from his thigh, which confused Seungcheol until he saw the heartbreak on your face.

“No, Y/N. I meant seeing a professional,” Seungcheol said, laughing.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, unsure what you were apologising for.

“If you think I’m even close to being able to move on from you, you’re insane.”

“Come on, let me drive you home?” You said, Seungcheol nodded.

“I appreciate it, thank you.”

While driving, something occurred to you, and you had to ask. “Cheol, um, how come I was your emergency number? Last I remembered, you said it was Jeonghan?” Seungcheol blushed and scratched his neck.

“Uh, well, it’s embarrassing now, but I changed it three months into us dating,” his confession, making you almost drive through a red light.

“Why?”

“Ugh, I sound so stupid because we’re not together, but I guess I wanted you to know I trust you. I know my actions during our relationship were deeply contradictory to that. I also knew that you would be the one for me.”

“The one? In three months?” You asked.

Seungcheol smiled fondly at you. “Can you pull over?”

Seungcheol fished out his wallet, looked for something, and pulled out a small silver ring.

“Seungcheol, what the fuck?”

“Trust me; it’s not a proposal. I don’t think I’ll be that lucky. I just thought it was something I should get after three months. I wanted to give this to you, but then I hurt you so many times after, and each time, we tried to make it work, and I kept on fucking it up for us. It was a promise ring that I’d never hurt you again, and I guess I failed.” Seungcheol admitted, and you noticed a tear fall down his face.

“Why do you still have the promise ring?” You asked.

“Wishful thinking, I guess?” Seungcheol replied.

“I miss you,” you mumbled, and Seungcheol heard you.

“We can try again,” you offered weakly.

“No, not yet. Let me learn. Let me be a better man for you. If I can’t, then know you deserve so much more,” Seungcheol spoke, and you smiled softly at him.

You resumed driving. Upon reaching Seungcheol ’s house, you pulled up and helped him out of the car and into his apartment. You laughed when you saw the floor covered in blood. It was not a normal reaction, but the backstory was quite amusing.

“Hey, Cheol, why don’t you lie down? I’ll clean this up for you?” You said.

“No, I can manage,”

You glared at him. “Trust me,it’s safer that I do this,” You laughed as you watched him hobble to his bedroom. Thank goodness he didn’t live in a multi-story house.

After cleaning up, you found Seungcheol sitting in his bed, playing music and softly humming. You knocked on his door. Seungcheol smiled and waved you in.

“Hi.”

“Blood’s gone,” you said, and he patted the space next to you, and you sat down on the bed next to him.

“Thank you. Somehow, you’re always cleaning after my mess.”

“Seungcheol, don’t,” your voice firm.

“I cannot even begin to tell you how sorry I am. Fuck, come here,” he patted the space in front of him. You carefully moved and sat between his legs so as not to hurt his bandaged foot. Seungcheol pulled your hair to the side, kissing softly on the nape of your neck.

“Just please, don’t break me apart again because I don’t think I’ll recover anymore if you do,” you pleaded, and Seungcheol turned you around in his embrace so that you faced him.

“Never again, I promise,” Seungcheol promised. bullshit

“Okay, so where is your boyfriend?” Mia asked, venom dripping off every word, and you rolled your eyes at her.

“He probably got caught up with work. Can you fucking let it go?” You asked, and Mia shrugged.

“I’m just saying, for a man walking on thin fucking ice, he better at least bother with his girlfriend’s birthday party,” Mia stated before walking out of the room to place balloons in another part of your apartment.

You sighed, knowing she was right, but Seungcheol was busy. Maybe he’d be late, but he’d show up. You kept telling yourself this until midnight when he never showed up, but you were several drinks in and had enough liquid courage to storm over to his place, which is precisely what you did.

You hailed a cab and made the drunken journey to his.

Your conscience was warning you. You paid no attention.

Yousure as hell ignored it for long enough. You could continue to do so.

You knocked on the door, and the door opened to reveal a shirtless Seungcheol in a pair of black sweats. You had lost all sense of rationality, and at this point, you didn’t know what was right or wrong.

“Y/N?” Seungcheol asked, confused, as would anyone. He couldn’t help but take in your appearance, how your cleavage left little to the imagination, but he knew the reality was better, how your heels made your ass seem even rounder. Your face was beautiful as always, but your mascara had run slightly, and your nose was red.

“Can I come in?” You asked. He nodded quickly, letting you in and closing the door behind him.

Seungcheol slowly guided you to the sofa, and he sat down, waiting for you to sit beside him. Instead, you straddled him, your legs on either side of his hips.

“My birthday. I got a crappy, “happy birthday” text from you, and you don’t show up to my party. What the fuck is wrong with you? This is not the attitude from someone who wants another chance,” you fumed, and Seungcheol stared at you sighing. He had no excuse, none whatsoever.

“Y/N, I—” You shut Seungcheol up with a kiss. You rolled your hips against his crotch, and you could feel that underneath his sweats, he was naked. No boxers. You could partially feel his cock against your lace-covered cunt.

“Y/N, I, what’s going on, fuck,” Seungcheol stopped speaking as you started sucking his neck, gently grazing your teeth against his neck andmaking him whimper for you. You felt his cock harden fully underneath you. You pulled away from his neck for a moment.

“Cheol, at this moment, I need to forget that I’m mad at you,” you admitted, and Seungcheol sighed before nodding as his grip on your thighs tightened.

“I’m not saying no; you don’t need to apologise, and you don’t need to leave, but we need to talk when we’re done,” Seungcheol added.

“I will.”

“Good.” Cheol stood up from his position and carried you into the bedroom. And he noticed your makeup had smudged and brought you to the bathroom. He placed you on the counter, his lips immediately finding yours. Kissing you, his lips pulled and sucked on yours. You moaned, allowing him to slip his tongue inside your mouth.

Seungcheol deepened the kiss. His hands found the straps of your dress; he pushed them down. You hissed as your breasts met the cold air of the room. Seungcheol helped you out of the dress, leaving you in your soaked underwear. He groaned at the sight. His hands went to your legs, pushing the heels off your feet, his lips never leaving yours. He moved his hands to your underwear and pulled it off. He groaned when he saw how wet you were.

He pushed his sweats down and undressed; he stood erect and naked in front of you, and you took a moment to drink in his appearance. Seungcheol guided you into the shower, and you let out a moan, when you felt the warm water hit your skin. Soothing you, you felt Seungcheol turn you around and push your back against the wall. He placed kisses down your neck, his lips finding your breasts. He sucked and nibbled your nipple as his other hand massaged and squeezed and tugged the other breast. Cheol moved his body down yours as his lips found your cunt.

Seungcheol placed a soft kiss. He gently lifted a leg and wrapped it around his broad shoulders. He pushed two fingers inside of you, groaning at how wet you were, where he could practically taste your arousal. He angled his fingers inside you and started to finger you, and his lips found your core, as he ran his tongue against your folds.

He pulled your clit between his teeth, gently grazing the swollen bud. You whimpered. He replaced his teeth with his plush lips. Wrapping them around your clit and sucking as his fingers pounded into you. He kept his movements up until you came. You tightened against his fingers, and your clit throbbed in his mouth as he helped you ride out your orgasm.

Seungcheol gently unhooked your leg from his, and you sank to your knees. You pushed against his toned abs, and his back hit the shower wall. You wrapped your lips around his cock; he was thick. While your hands wrapped around the remainder of his length, you took him and started to suck him. He let out a low growl and a strangled whimper as you continued to suck him. You grazed your nails along his thighs and whimpered, bucking his length into your throat, making you gag slightly. You kept sucking until you felt him still and releasein your mouth.

You smirked as Seungcheol was panting. He pulled you two on your feet and into a sweet kiss. He cleaned the both of you up, his hands finding your face and washing the smudged mascara off your face. He guided you out of the shower and to his bed. You moaned as you felt the soft sheets against your naked body.

Seungcheol couldn’t get enough of you. His eyes drank you in. His mouth was desperate to taste you again. He approached you, lifted your legs, and placed them on his shoulder. His mouth found your cunt again. He started by placing soft kisses against your cunt, knowing where to lick you.

He wasted no time. He dove straight in, his thick tongue flicking against your swollen clit. Your hands made their way into his hair. He pushed in three fingers this time. He lapped at your arousal while you whimpered in oversensitivity. It didn’t take much after that for you to cum on his tongue.

Seungcheol rubbed his cock against your wet folds several times and then pushed in. You hissed as the stretch was quite intense after two orgasms, but he felt so good. You tugged on his hair, making him look up at you. You brushed your thigh against his hardened length, and he wasted no time.

“Move”, you whispered, and that’s all it took for Seungcheol to lift your legs and place them on his shoulders, allowing him to hit deeper inside you. His thrusts were rough, and each time, he would withdraw only to push back harder and deeper.

He leaned down and captured your lips in his. You melted into the kiss while he pounded into your cunt. You were a mumbling and moaning mess underneath him. You felt yourself clench around this length, making him groan into the kiss. He pushed a few more times until you fell apart on his cock.

He pulled out of you gently and laid down beside you.

You woke up a few hours later, not realising you had fallen asleep.

You woke up to at least thirty texts and missed calls from Mia, and you sighed, stepping out of Seungcheol’s bedroom to call her. You quickly told her what happened last night, and Mia could only relay her disappointment.

“Do you not see how far gone you are, Y/N; you’re making excuses for him. People like him don’t do this just once.”

“He was busy and couldn’t make it,” you explained, and Mia scoffed.

“Y/N, I’m telling you as someone who has been through something like this. He will leave you broken.” You scoffed, and your following words were nothing but pure venom.

“Mia, you had a relatively hot boyfriend, and he dumped your ass. So I guess you’re not too different to me since the only thing you’re good for is looking the way you do. You couldn’t keep him either..” You kept your voice stern and firm.

Mia groaned. “I won’t ever say I told you so, but when the inevitable happens, you know where to find me. I’ll listen because I know you won’t.” With that, Mia hung up.

You sank to the floor.

How did a loving relationship with your boyfriend leave you so drained and lashing out at others to defend him? What went wrong?

“Hey, did I interrupt something?” Seungcheol asked, startling you, and you stood up, shaking your head. You didn’t want to get into it with him right now.

“Here,” Seungcheol said, handing you a coffee mug, and you nodded, taking it.

“You’re right. My actions last night weren’t of a boyfriend trying hard to prove that he’s worthy of being with you,” Seungcheol explained, and you rolled your eyes.

“I’m tired of hearing you apologise. I need you to show me that you’re fucking sorry,” you said .

“What about a date tomorrow? There’s a gala at my university. Don’t worry, it won’t be like last time, I promise,” Seungcheol begged, and you sighed, nodding.

You weren’t exactly sure what made you want to give him a second chance, but maybe because you loved him or the idea of him, you weren’t entirely sure which one. You just knew that regardless of what the situation was with you two. With him, it still felt like home somehow.

DIVDER:

You and Seungcheol walked hand in hand to his gala; this time, he wasn’t distant, curt, or moody. He was jovial, greeted everyone, and introduced you until Yoona entered the picture.

Seungcheol wasn’t flirting, but he sure as hell didn’t bother to hide how happy and excited he was to see his ex, considering he spent nearly 45 minutes talking to her. You stormed out of the venue and waited by his car until he noticed.. oblivious to your anger.

“Waiting long?” Seungcheol asked, and you scoffed.

“I’m amazed you remembered I existed. You seemed to be taken by Yoona. I thought I was a distant memory,” you mocked, earning a glare from Seungcheol.

“Let’s just go home, yeah?” Seungcheol asked, and you nodded, following him into his car.This time, he didn’t help you in.“When the fuck did I give you a reason to think I’d cheat? How many times do I need to fucking tell you that Yoona and I are done?” Seungcheol bellowed suddenly, and you sighed.

“That’s not the fucking point!” You yelled back, and Seungcheol sighed, loosening his tie.

“The point is that you always gloss over our problems, you always act like I’m a child or something, and you never tell me the truth. When I get mad, you act like I’m insane even to be upset. Do you know how that fucking feels?” You yelled, and Seungcheol glared at you.

“Not my fucking problem thatyou don’t understand how the fuck relationships work, or maybe you’re too fucking immature to make one work,” Seungcheol hissed as his grip on the steering wheel only got tighter.

“This is so fucking rich coming from you considering the fucking fact your ex dumped you, and yet you’re so obsessed with her that you didn’t care that she cheated on you. Instead of spending the night with me, someone who loves you, you cosied up to someone who walked all over you!” You yelled.

“Y/N, get out of the car before I make you!” Seungcheol yelled, making you whimper at his tone and words.

“Seungcheol, please, I’m so sorry,” you were begging, but Seungcheol ignored you. He leaned over and opened the car door. You looked at him; his eyes were trained on the road ahead.

“Seungcheol, please don’t do this,” you begged. You knew you couldn’t change his mind, but you were scared. He didn’t seem to care. You reluctantly exited the car, gently closing the door behind you. Seungcheol wasted no time, and he sped away, drove off, and left you alone in the dark.

You were freezing, and your outfit did nothing to counter the cold. You let out a sob, your feet in absolute agony from the heels, and your mind an emotional mess. You pulled your phone out of your purse to call someone. You called Seungcheol, no response. You sighed more. Seeing as he would ignore you the entire night, you called the last person you could think of.

“Y/N? What? It’s two in the morning. What do you want?” Mia’s voice was hoarse and laced with sleep. You tried to reply but couldn’t help the whimper that escaped your throat.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Mia asked, her voice now concerned.

“I don’t know where I am, and it’s dark and cold. I’m so sorry for disturbing you. I shouldn’t have—”

“Y/N, stop, pin me your location. I’m coming to get you,” You sobbed out a thank you and sent her your location.

Around twenty minutes later, you saw a car enter the empty street, and it screeched to a halt suddenly. Mia stepped out with a coat and ran towards you. She wrapped the coat around your body. She didn’t ask questions; she just guided you to heris car.

“Let’s get you home,” Mia said. She was fuming, but she was scared that if she yelled at you now—which she surely would, she’d break you into two.

“Do you want me to come in?” Mia asked as she pulled up outside your apartment, and you shook your head.

“I just need time alone, but thank you, Mia,” you said, who nodded as she watched you leave the car before waving to you and driving off.

“Baby! You’re safe!” You turned around to see Seungcheol running after you, and you sighed as you walked into your apartment. Seungcheol followed you, and this scene was one you knew all too well.

“You threw me out of the car!” You yelled the minute you were inside the apartment.

“I was scaredI’d say something worse if you stayed. I was trying to mitigate further damage.”

You rolled your eyes at him.“You’re a fucking moron.”

“I am, but I came back, I—” you interrupted him.

“For what? To apologise?” You asked, and you hated that hope still coated your words.

“No, because I can’t do this anymore. I can’t, you’re acting so fucking immature, but we’re not good for each other. I need someone who gets me. I can’t coddle you every five seconds because you got your fucking feelings hurt,” Seungcheol said, finality lacing his words.

“So, if we were closer in age, we would have worked?” You asked, and Seungcheol sighed, nodding.

“I’ll send someone for my things, and I’ll mail your things back to you by the end of the week,” Seungcheol mumbled as he walked out of your apartment.

He left as quickly as he came into your life. You’d experienced heartbreak before, but nothing like this. You wanted to die. You tried to stop feeling because the pain manifested into physical pain as you felt your entire body go numb and limp. You couldn’t handle it, and you felt all too much all at once.

The Reeling

It had been two weeks since Seungcheol broke up with you and after he returned your things to youin a box with no goodbye letter and nothing to give you any semblance of closure, you impulsively booked a train ticket to see your folks

If Seungcheol didn’t want to coddle you, you tried to find comfort in the two people you knew would.

“Y/N?” She was confused by how upset you were. Your mother practically yelled when she saw you at the front door, and you burst into tears the minute she saw you and hugged her.

“I missed you,” you cried into her arms while she was happy to see you.

“Come in. Why don’t you go to your room freshen up?” You nodded.

“Hi, stranger.” You said, scaring your father, who was too engrossed in a crossword puzzle.

“Y/N!” He yelled, standing up to hug you.

“Oh, who’s ass do I need to kick for you crying?” You shook your head.

“No one, I just missed you guys,” you lied, and your parents nodded knowingly.

“Freshen up, honey. We’ll be right here with food and a drink?” You nodded at your mother and headed to shower

“Seungcheol,” You answered your phone that was ringing. You had just gotten out of the shower and were drying your hair.

“Uh, hi. Sorry, I wanted to pick up my hoodie. I left it at yours, but you weren’t there, and I just wanted to check when you’d be back so I could get it?” Seungcheol asked, so casually, so casually cruel.

At least he was honest. You knew nothing was left there anymore,

“I’m visiting my folks; I’ll send it to yours when I’m back,” you said, keeping your tone neutral and devoid of emotions.

“Cool. Thanks,” Seungcheol said, hanging up before you could get a word out.

You broke down again. He called you, only to break you all over again.

“So, it’s a boy problem? It’s got to be,” your father mused after dinner. You two and your mother were in the living room, sipping wine and catching up.

“I was a fucking idiot. I gave him a chance after chance,he walked all over me, and I let him because I loved him,” you whined to your parents, who smiled sympathetically at you.

“I would rather you didn’t call yourself that. I didn’t raise one.” You smiled at your dad’s attempt to be funny.

“Well, I was,” You sighed, sipping the wine. You decided you’d tell your parents everything aside from the ridiculous amounts of sex that led you up to this moment.

“Why did you want to try so hard to keep him?” Your mother asked, and you shrugged.

“Because I loved him, or so I thought I did, but love shouldn’t hurt this much,” you mumbled. “You know what? I was right when I believed that love is this huge thing that doesn’t exist, and aside from you two, I don’t see it anywhere.” You said, and your parents smiled softly,

“Honey, love isn’t easy. It takes so much effort and time to get it right, and even then, you can screw it up.”

“Then what, I screwed up?” You accused, and your mother shook her head.

“No, you tried and broke yourself into two to become someone he wanted. That is the furthest thing from love. It’ll hurt, but one day, when your paths cross again, you’ll be able to smile at him with no malice and thank him for putting you through hell because you’ll know what you never want again,” your mother explained, pulling you into a tight hug as you sobbed.

“He couldn’t even be bothered to attend my birthday,” you mumbled, sniffling pathetically, and your father nodded.

“That’s not a good sign, if I’m being honest, isn’t it meant to be fun, a birthday party?” Your father asked, and you could only shrug.

“Get your hair done or something,” your mum suggested the following week.

“Why?” You asked, and your mother smiled at you.

“Well, isn’t that what everyone does after a breakup? Get their hair done, and you’ve been moping for a week. Go outside, go and see the colourful world out there,” your mother said, kissing your forehead.

You laughed but decided to take up your mother’s advice, and soon enough, you found yourself in a hair salon.

“So, how do you want your hair done?” The stylist asked as he started to towel dry your hair.

“I’m not entirely sure, but something that screams I’m doing good and happy.” The stylist smiled.

“A few highlights and waves?” He suggested, and you grinned. You relaxed into the chair as the stylist worked on your hair.

You smiled at your appearance in the mirror. You felt fresh. You still felt pain, but the new hair did do wonders. You’d never understand the logic, but it helped, only for a second, until a voice stopped you in the shopping mall.

“Y/N?” Your blood ran cold, and you’d recognise that voice anywhere.

“Yoona,” you muttered, turning around as you faced her.

“Did you change your hair? I like it. It looks lovely!” Yoona smiled.

“Can I help you, Yoona?” You asked, not having the energy to pretend to care.

“I heard you and Cheol broke up?” Yoona said, and you cringed at her use of his nickname.

“Why, are you waiting to dig your claws into him?” You snapped, and Yoona shook her head.

“Look, I have no defense for what I did to him, but I’ll say this: There is an idea that Seungcheol has in his mind. Even if I didn’t fit that mould, should I have cheated? No, but it wouldn’t have mattered because I would never be enough for him, and neither were you. He has a version of a woman in his mind, which doesn’t exist. You dodged a bullet, my Y/N,” Yoona narrated as she walked off, leaving you speechless.

It was on your walk that all the puzzle pieces fit together. Yoona wasn’t wrong—granted, an unreliable source—but her words weren’t exactly wrong. You bent over backward to appease Seungcheol, but nothing was enough, and if Yoona, his “ideal girl,” failed to meet his idea, then what was his ideal?

A never-needy, ever-lovely jewel whose shine reflected on him? Was that all he ever needed: someone to make him look better?

You smiled, turning back to see Yoona walk into another shop. Maybe she was right; it’d take a while to reconcile and face the trauma of dating Choi Seungcheol, but you knew it wasn’t you anymore. You could have been carved by the gods themselves, but unless that god were Seungcheol, you would never be enough for him, and somehow you were okay with that.

You just needed now to heal, mend old relationships, and find yourself again, but you were a soldier who came back from war half her weight. You needed to regain strength from this, heal, and become someone who had learned from this.

You could do it. You’d get older and wiser, while his lovers would be the same, wide-eyed and keen until he tore them to shreds when he realised they weren’t the one.

You could move on. You’d be fine.

The Healing: 2 Years Later

You were fussing over your speech for the fifth time that day.

“Girl, it’s fine, you’ve worked your ass off for this app. I can’t believe you got SNU to sponsor this. You’ve grown up!” Mia said dramatically, making you laugh.

You two were okay again; it took a lot of healing, but you two were okay because you didn’t hurt anymore.

You were at the launch of your newest app, a website for students and teachers to connect quickly.You wanted to pitch it to SNU, and they agreed.

You had finally finished your presentation when your eyes locked with his.

You flashed him a smile, and he returned one.It was like nothing you imagined at that moment. Nothing hurt anymore; he was a painful memory, but he was your past.

You would sometimes wonder if the love affair between the two of you maimed him the way it maimed you, but you also figured that you could live without getting that answer from him.

You’d be okay. You weren’t okay then, but you are okay now.

You were okay before you met him, and you’d be okay after him.

#seventeen fic #seungcheol fic #seventeen angst #seventeen smut #svthub #kvanity #all too well: c.s.c

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pucksandpower · 1 day

Text

Pequeña

Happy Nation: A Series of Standalone Fics

Fernando Alonso x Webber!Reader

Summary: a brutal breakup leads you right into the arms of one of your father's oldest friends (or in which being sooooo normal about Fernando Alonso runs in the Webber family)

Warnings: 18+ content, age gap, taking advantage of an emotionally vulnerable state, breeding, and pregnancy

You sit hunched on your bed, knees pulled up to your chest as tears stream down your face. Your mobile vibrates again and you swipe away another message from your now ex-boyfriend without reading it. How could he do this to you? You thought what you had was real.

Your thoughts drift to home, to your family thousands of miles away in Australia. You long for your dad’s comforting embrace and your mum’s reassuring words. But they’re so far away. You feel painfully alone in this strange English city where you’ve come to attend university.

Before you can stop yourself, you’re dialing a familiar number. It rings three times before a warm voice picks up. “Hola pequeña! What’s wrong?”

“N-Nando ...” You sniffle, trying and failing to keep your voice from cracking. “He … he cheated on me.”

There’s a pause before Fernando responds, his Spanish lilt taking on a protective edge. “That little hijo de puta. I’ll kill him myself.”

You let out a watery laugh. “No, don’t do that. I … I just miss home. Miss my family.”

“Say no more, pequeña. You’re coming to stay with me for a bit, yeah? Can’t have you all alone like this.”

You hesitate, wiping at your tears. “Are you sure? I don’t want to impose ...”

“Impose?” Fernando laughs. “My favorite girl? Never. I’m sending a car to get you right now.”

“No, no, I can drive myself-”

“You’ll do no such thing in this state,” he chides. “Driver’s on his way. Go pack a bag.”

You open your mouth to protest again but think better of it. Fernando can be extremely stubborn when he wants to be. “Okay, okay. Thank you, Nando. Really.”

“De nada, pequeña. I’ve got the guest room all ready for you. We’ll get through this together, yeah?”

His soothing Spanish accent is already making you feel infinitely better. You know Fernando has been close with your family for years, has watched you grow up into the young woman you are today. He’s always treated you like his own daughter.

“I’m looking forward to it,” you say, meaning it. Spending time with Fernando is guaranteed to lift your spirits. “Your place in Silverstone, right?”

“That’s the one. Get packing and don’t worry about a thing. I’ll see you very soon.”

You hang up and immediately start throwing clothes and essentials into an overnight bag with a renewed sense of hope. Fernando always knows just what to do to make you feel better.

Two hours later, you’re being ushered into the backseat of a sleek black sedan by a courteous driver in a pressed suit. He takes your bag and stows it in the trunk before sliding behind the wheel.

“Miss Webber? I’ll be taking you to Mr. Alonso’s residence now.”

You nod, suddenly exhausted from all the crying. The driver seems to sense your melancholy because he doesn’t try to make small talk.

The English countryside whips by in a blur of green fields and quaint villages. Before you know it, the sedan is pulling up to an impressive brick estate surrounded by beautifully manicured gardens.

The driver lets you out and leads you up to the front door, which swings open before you can knock. Fernando stands there in a soft white sweater and dark-washed jeans, arms open wide.

“Pequeña!” His eyes crinkle at the corners as he pulls you into a fierce hug. “Welcome, welcome.”

You breathe in his comforting scent of sandalwood and citrus as he rubs soothing circles on your back. “I’m glad you came,” he murmurs.

He ushers you inside and you can’t help but gape at the tasteful, modern interior decor. It’s bright and airy, with huge windows offering views of the impeccable gardens beyond.

“This place is incredible, Nando,” you say, trailing behind him as he leads you through the spacious living room towards what appears to be the kitchen.

“You like?” He grins over his shoulder. “I had it remodeled not too long ago. Here, have a seat.” He pulls out a barstool at the huge kitchen island.

You take a seat, settling your elbows on the cool granite surface as Fernando busies himself at the stove. “So,” he says without turning around. “Tell me everything, from the beginning. Don’t leave out a single detalle.”

You sigh, resting your chin in your hands as Fernando starts pulling ingredients from the fridge. “Well, it started a few weeks ago. ..”

You recount all the little things that, in hindsight, were red flags: the constant emailing and texting, the unusually long nights “studying” at the library, the bizarre excuses. Fernando listens intently, occasionally tossing in a sympathetic “maldito idiota” or an indignant shake of his head.

Finally, you get to the part where you finally confronted your now ex about his shady behavior … only to have him confess that he’d been cheating on you for months with some underclassman sociology major.

By the time you’ve finished, your voice is thick from holding back a fresh wave of tears. Fernando sets down the knife he was using to chop vegetables and comes around the island to pull you into another hug.

“Oh, pequeña,” he murmurs into your hair. “Lo siento mucho. You didn’t deserve any of that, you hear me?”

You just nod, not trusting yourself to speak. Fernando rubs your back again before pulling away, hands on your shoulders so he can look you square in the eyes.

“Listen. That boy?” A feisty glint enters his warm hazel eyes. “He’s a fool, a complete and total imbecile for hurting someone as incredible as you. You’re so brave, so strong, so full of life ...” He tucks an errant strand of hair behind your ear. “And any man should consider himself the luckiest in the world to have you in his life, you understand?”

You manage a watery smile and nod again. Leave it to Fernando to know exactly what to say to begin mending your broken heart.

“Good.” He straightens up, clapping his hands together decisively. “Now dry those tears, pequeña. I’m making my famous seafood paella for dinner tonight and I’ll need my best assistant chef!”

You let out a surprised laugh, swiping at the dampness on your cheeks. “You know I’m a disaster in the kitchen.”

“Nonsense!” Fernando waves a dismissive hand as he returns to the cutting board. “Everyone can learn with a little guidance from Chef Nano, no?”

The next couple of hours pass in a blur of cheerful chopping, stirring, and laughing as Fernando walks you through the steps, nudging you gently whenever you veer off course. It’s impossible to stay weighed down by your sadness when he’s cracking jokes in that irreverent way of his and peppering you with silly kitchen nicknames.

By the time you’ve portioned out the fragrant saffron rice studded with shrimp, mussels, and clams into bowls, you’re doubled over in a fit of giggles from Fernando’s dramatic retelling of his past Formula 1 antics.

“... And then this crazy Australian madman comes barreling into the pit and just starts laying into me!” He throws his hands up, eyes dancing with mirth. “If Charlie hadn’t stepped in, I think your old man really might’ve killed me that day!”

You shake your head, still laughing as you take your first bite of the paella. It’s absolute perfection, the flavors melding together in an incredible symphony on your tongue. “My dad really went after you?”

“Oh yeah,” Fernando chuckles, digging into his own bowl. “We were like two crazed animals back then whenever we were on the track together. Couldn’t stand each other.”

There’s a lull as you both focus on eating for a few minutes. When you’re pleasantly full and satiated, you sit back with a contented sigh.

“Nando, that was hands down the best paella I’ve ever had.”

“You flatter me too much.” He waves a hand, but you can tell he’s pleased. “Just wait until tomorrow, when Chef Nano teaches you how to make the perfect tortilla Española, eh?”

The idea of getting to spend more time with Nando and being cooked for brings a genuine, untroubled smile to your face for the first time in days. This is just what you needed to start healing from your recent heartbreak.

***

As you help Fernando clear the dishes, a comfortable silence settles between you. He pours you both generous glasses of his favorite Spanish rioja and you retire to the plush living room sofas.

Fernando settles into the overstuffed armchair across from you, stretching out his lean legs as he takes a sip of wine. “So, pequeña ...” He fixes you with that warm, piercing gaze. “What is it you really want? In a man, I mean.”

You pause, considering his question as you swirl the ruby liquid in your glass. “I … I’m not sure I know anymore, to be honest. I thought I had it all figured out with ...” You trail off, unable to even say your ex’s name without a pang of hurt lancing through you.

Fernando reaches over to pat your knee comfortingly. “Hey, no more tears, okay? That pendejo is in the past. I’m asking what your ideal partner would be like going forward. What do you want, need, deserve from a man?”

You take a fortifying sip of the bold, peppery wine before responding. “I think … more than anything, I just want to feel cherished. Valued. Like I’m the most important person in his world.”

Fernando’s expression softens. “Oh, pequeña. You have such a big, beautiful heart. Of course that’s what you want — to be adored and treated like the incredible woman you are.”

You duck your head, warmth blooming in your cheeks at his praise. “I don’t know, Nando. Maybe I’m just being naive or asking for too much ...”

“Claro que no!” He leans forward, pinning you with an intense look. “You’re allowed to want those things, pequeña. You’re allowed to be selfish when it comes to your heart and what you need to be truly, deeply happy.”

His words resonate somewhere deep within you and you find yourself nodding slowly. “You’re right. I am allowed to want someone who makes me their whole world and never takes me for granted, aren’t I?”

“Exactamente.” Fernando reaches over to grasp your hands, his calloused fingers engulfing yours. “And let me tell you — any man who doesn’t give you that is un verdadero idiota. You deserve to be cherished, worshipped, put up on a pedestal every single day.”

His dark eyes burn with conviction, lips pressed into a serious line. You find yourself unable to look away, mesmerized by the sheer intensity of his words and manner.

“You deserve everything, pequeña,” he continues in a low, gravelly tone. “A man who makes you his whole priority, who loves you with every fiber of his being. Someone who will lay the world at your feet.”

Fernando reaches up to gently cup your cheek, his thumb stroking over the apple of your cheekbone reverently. The calloused pad of it sends a shiver racing down your spine.

“Someone who looks at you and can scarcely breathe for how lucky, how blessed they are to have you in their life ...”

His face is so close to yours now, his warm breath caressing your lips. You’re completely transfixed, body thrumming with barely restrained tension and … anticipation?

Fernando’s next words are barely more than a hoarse rumble. “I will cherish you, pequeña. Always. Allow me to show you how a real man adores the woman he loves.”

And then his mouth is on yours, hot and insistent and tasting of wine and desire. You gasp into the kiss, frozen for a split second before melting against him, kissing him back with equal fervor. Your hands slide up to tangle in the soft strands at the nape of his neck as he angles his head, deepening the heated exchange.

Fernando groans low in his throat, the vibrations shooting straight to your core. His large, nimble hands come up to frame your face, holding you in place as he takes his time thoroughly exploring your mouth, nibbling at your lips, stroking his talented tongue against yours in a way that has you whimpering into him.

He pulls away slightly and you chase his lips with a soft keen of protest. Fernando chuckles darkly, nosing along your jaw.

“Patience, pequeña,” he rumbles against the sensitive skin just below your ear. “As sweet as that gorgeous mouth is, there are so many other parts of you I’ve been longing to taste ...”

A full-body shudder wracks you at his words, at the sheer need and promise lacing his tone. Part of you is stunned by how quickly the atmosphere between you has shifted, how easily you fell into his passionate embrace.

But a much larger part — the part that has admired and idolized this man since you were knee-high — is utterly intoxicated. Delirious with the knowledge that the love you’ve secretly harbored for Fernando for years is, impossibly, reciprocated.

His mouth is trailing hot, openmouthed kisses along the column of your throat and you tilt your head back with a wanton moan, reveling in the rasp of his day-old stubble against your sensitized skin.

“N-Nando ...” You try to put a protesting note in your voice, but it comes out a pleading whine instead. “Are you sure about this? I’m … I’m just a kid to you.”

He rears back to pin you with a look so full of naked want it makes you squirm. “You stopped being a kid a long time ago, pequeña,” he growls. “I’ve been watching you grow into this gorgeous, fiery woman and it’s taken everything in me not to take you into my arms like this until now.”

His hands roam down to palm your waist, fingers flexing possessively against the dip of your sides. You’re breathless, dizzy, wondering if you’ve stumbled into some incredible, wildly realistic dream.

Because surely this — with your longtime crush, the older man you’ve harbored forbidden fantasies about pulling you flush against his strong frame and lavishing kisses up the side of your neck — cannot be real. Can it?

“It’s real, pequeña. So, so real,” Fernando croons, as if reading your mind. He frames your face again, searing you with another passionate kiss that steals your breath and chases away any remaining doubts. “Feel how real it is,” he murmurs, guiding your hands down to the firm evidence of his arousal straining against the soft denim.

You whimper into his mouth, tentatively palming the thick bulge. Fernando hisses in a sharp breath through his teeth and breaks the kiss to press his forehead to yours. His eyes are tightly shut, long lashes fanning across sunkissed skin.

“F-fuck, pequeña,” he chokes out in a ragged voice. “Been dreaming of those little hands on me for years.”

Something inside you shifts at his confession, like a dam of long repressed want and need cracking open. You suddenly feel bolder, empowered by the effect you’re having on this man — this god among men who you’ve put on a pedestal for so long.

Maintaining heated eye contact, you slowly drag your hand up the length of his erection in one firm stroke that has Fernando’s hips jerking up as he curses vehemently in Spanish.

“Like this?” You rasp, a blatant challenge in your tone as you repeat the motion.

Fernando’s eyes flash hungrily and then he’s surging forward again, capturing your lips in another punishing kiss that leaves you lightheaded and alight with lust.

“Just like that, mi amor,” he growls when he releases your mouth with a final nip at your lower lip. “Now it’s my turn to cherish you ...”

With that, he loops an arm behind your knees and rises in one smooth, powerful motion, hoisting you up into a secure bridal carry. You yelp in surprise, hands flying up to cling to his broad shoulders.

“Nando! What are you, mmph-”

Your protest is cut off by his mouth slanting over yours in another heated kiss. Fernando maneuvers you easily as he starts carrying you towards the staircase, hiking your dainty linen dress up around your thighs.

“I’m making good on my promise, pequeña,” he murmurs hotly against your swollen lips. “Bedroom. Now. Going to lay you out and cherish every sweet inch of that gorgeous body, just like you deserve.”

Unbidden, a soft whine slips from your throat at his heated words. You tighten your grip on his shoulders, fingers digging into the firm muscle there as a fresh wave of arousal floods through you, hot and insistent.

Fernando chuckles darkly, adjusting his grip on you as he starts up the stairs. “That’s it, let me hear how much you want this too.”

You open your mouth to respond but only a needy whine escapes as Fernando hitches you higher in his arms, the movement causing delicious friction against your core.

“I want, ngh-” Your words dissolve into another needy noise as Fernando nips at the juncture of your neck and shoulder in reprimand.

“Use your words, pequeña,” he rumbles against your tingling skin. “Tell me what you want.”

You don’t have a chance to reply before he’s kicking open a door and striding into what must be the bedroom, depositing you gently onto the plush center of an enormous bed. Fernando looms over you, chest heaving as he rakes his heated gaze over your prone form in a way that makes you shudder.

“Nando, I … I want you,” you finally manage, fighting past your shyness to meet his burning stare. “Want you to cherish me, cherish every part of me, like you promised.”

Fernando’s eyes darken further at your words and he slowly, purposefully begins lifting his sweater, never looking away from you.

“Good girl,” he praises in that deep, gruff tone that has your thighs pressing together instinctively. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

He shrugs off the soft knit, revealing a toned, hair-dusted chest and abdominal muscles carved from years of intense athletic training. You can’t help but drink in the display of his powerful body as he reaches for the buckle of his belt.

Fernando doesn’t miss your frank appraisal, a cocky smirk tugging at his full lips. “Like what you see, pequeña?”

You bite your lip and give a small, shameless nod. His grin widens and with a few deft flicks of his wrist, Fernando’s belt is undone and sliding free of its loops. You watch, rapt, as he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his jeans and boxer briefs in one smooth motion.

“Then no more teasing,” he promises in a low, heated rasp. “Tonight you’ll have as much of me as you can handle.”

With that, Fernando pushes his trousers and underwear down over his hips in one go, springing free in all his thick, flushed glory. Your eyes widen and you suck in a sharp breath at the sheer size of him, mouth going dry with naked want.

Fernando steps forward until he’s standing at the edge of the mattress, gloriously nude and incredibly aroused. He crouches down, bringing himself eye-level with your flushed face as he reaches out to gently take your hands in his calloused grip.

“Are you sure, pequeña?” He searches your gaze intently. “Because once I claim you, mark you as mine in every way … there’s no going back. I won’t ever let you go.”

His raw confession hangs in the heated air between you. You meet Fernando’s fiery gaze without faltering, threading your fingers through his in silent acceptance. His eyes blaze and then he’s surging up over you, capturing your mouth in another searing, all-consuming kiss as he slowly, reverently hikes your dress up and divests you of your last remaining garments.

You wind your arms around his thick neck, holding him close as Fernando settles between your splayed thighs with a low, guttural groan. He rears back just enough to pin you with another scorching look, stealing your breath.

“You’re mine now, pequeña,” he vows roughly, guiding his thick length to your slick entrance. “And I’m going to spend all night cherishing this sweet body, just like you deserve ...”

Fernando braces himself above you with one powerful forearm, using his free hand to grip your thigh and hitch your leg higher around his lean hips. You keen softly as the new angle allows him to sink even deeper, filling you up so deliciously.

He drops his forehead to yours, dark eyes locked on your parted lips as he starts rocking into you with slow, measured strokes. Each deliberate grind of his pelvis against yours has you whimpering, nails raking down the flexing planes of his back.

“That’s it, pequeña,” Fernando croons, punctuating his words with a sharp roll of his hips that has you crying out. “Let me hear how good I’m making you feel.”

You try to muffle your sounds against his broad shoulder, but Fernando isn’t having it. He slides the hand not braced on the mattress up to cup the back of your neck, tilting your head so your mouths are a hairsbreadth apart.

“No, no … I want to hear every gorgeous, needy little noise,” he rumbles, lips brushing yours with each scorching word. “Want to hear you begging for more of my cock, stretching you so perfectly ...”

A desperate whine slips free at his filthy words, your walls fluttering around his rigid length in defiant response. Fernando rewards you by capturing your lips in a searing kiss, his talented tongue teasing against yours as he picks up the pace of his thrusts.

You moan brokenly into his mouth, legs locking around his narrow waist as Fernando sets a rhythm of steady, pounding strokes. Each slick glide has you building higher and higher, pleasure bordering on overwhelming. It’s so much after so much time without, yet somehow not enough.

You tear your lips from his with a ragged gasp, throwing your head back against the pillows. “M-More, Nando! Please … ah!”

Fernando grunts in approval at your needy plea, hips snapping forward to bury himself deeper. “As you wish, pequeña ...”

He sits up further on his knees, using the new leverage to drive into you with increased force and intensity. The lewd noises of your joining fill the air — skin slapping against skin, your cries of pleasure mingling with Fernando’s low groans of exertion.

Part of you feels like you should be embarrassed by the wanton sounds spilling from your lips. But a much bigger part is just reveling in the indescribable feeling of being taken apart so thoroughly by this incredible man’s skilled body.

Fernando hooks an arm under one of your knees, nearly bending you in half as he leans down to mouth hot, openmouthed kisses from your collarbone up the slender column of your throat. You keen wildly, fingers spasming against the rippling muscles of his back.

“Do you want it harder, pequeña?” He growls the filthy words against the racing pulse point under your jaw. “Want Papi to fuck you just like the needy little girl you are?”

A choked whimper is all you can manage in response, rendered incoherent by his merciless onslaught against that sensitive cluster of nerves deep inside you.

Fernando’s lips curl into a satisfied smirk against the side of your neck and then he’s driving into you with renewed vigor, hips pistoning in short, brutally powerful snaps that quickly have you keening. Your nails leave stinging welts in their wake as they drag down Fernando’s glistening shoulders and back, but he doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest.

“That’s it, taking me so well,” he grits out through clenched teeth, each word punctuated by a nasty grind of his hips that has you crying out. “Such a good girl for Papi, con esas caderas tan estrechas ...”

His dirty Spanish murmurs nearly do you in, shooting white-hot sparks of pleasure-pain arcing across your nerve endings. You swear your vision nearly whites out entirely when his calloused fingers find your swollen bud, stroking firmly in tight, rapid circles that have you keening.

That familiar, coiling tension is rapidly becoming too much to bear. You can feel your orgasm fast approaching, building and building with each punishing thrust into your greedy little hole and stroke against that hypersensitive bundle of nerves.

“Nando, Nando,” you pant, clutching desperately at his flexing biceps as your thighs begin to tremble uncontrollably. “I’m gonna, ah, fuck, I can’t-”

Fernando’s response is a series of harsh Spanish curses that would make a sailor blush. His mouth crashes against yours in a searing, messy kiss, swallowing your cries as he fucks you right through your release.

Wave after relentless wave of excruciating ecstasy crashes over you. You tremble and wail into Fernando’s mouth, pulled taut as a bowstring as he milks every last exquisite pulse from you with those sharp, unforgiving snaps of his hips.

Just when you think the pleasure searing along every nerve ending will break you into pieces, Fernando’s rhythm falters. He rears back, baring his teeth in a feral snarl that sends a fresh shock of desire arrowing straight to your core.

“Going to fill you up now, pequeña,” he grits out in a gravelly tone laced with strain. “Make you nice and, ah mierda, messy with Papi’s cum ...”

The sheer filth of his words, combined with his furious tempo draws animalistic whimpers from deep in your chest. You lock your ankles at the small of his back, taking him deeper as he starts to lose control.

“Please, Nando!” You beg shamelessly, reaching up to dig your fingers into the straining chords of muscle in his back and shoulders. “Please cum inside me, wanna be yours, wanna-”

Fernando cuts off your fervent cries with a harsh growl and then he’s slamming home one final time, burying himself to the hilt as he spills molten heat deep in your convulsing channel with a stream of strained Spanish curses.

You shudder and cry out at the incredible sensation of being filled so completely, holding him flush to you while he pulses and throbs. Fernando captures your lips in another searing kiss, fucking his tongue into your mouth in time with the shallow rolls of his hips as he spends himself.

Just when you think the incredible intensity of his release will never end, the shrill trill of a ringtone shatters the sweaty, panting silence of the bedroom.

Fernando goes rigid above you, finally breaking the fevered kiss with a curse that shoots straight to your over-sensitized core.

“Fucking hell, now?”

His tone is one of pure annoyance as his darkly tousled head whips towards the nightstand where his mobile is ringing incessantly. One large hand flexes against the sheets beside your head, ready to simply ignore the call.

Until, that is, he sees the caller ID and his entire demeanor shifts from one of irritation to something more sheepish. He immediately sits up on his haunches, the movement tugging at your overstuffed, abused entrance in the most delicious way and drawing a helpless whimper from you.

Fernando fixes you with a heated look, plush lower lip caught between his teeth as he drinks in your disheveled, satisfied state sprawled wantonly across his rumpled sheets. Only then does he make a sudden, aborted movement to grab the still-ringing phone, gaze flickering down to where you’re obscenely joined.

“Don’t you dare pull out,” you pant in warning, clenching down hard around him as he shifts to reach for the mobile. Fernando groans explosively at the vice-like grip, arm falling back to brace himself against the mattress.

“Insatiable,” he accuses with a dark chuckle. He somehow manages to snag the still-trilling phone without dislodging himself and you shamelessly squeeze down even tighter in petty retaliation. Fernando tosses you a smoldering glare that makes heat lick along your nerve endings before he finally answers.

“Hola?” His deep voice is rougher than usual, gravelly from the thoroughly ravished state you’ve put him in.

“Fernando! Mate, it’s me.” Your father’s crisp Aussie tone immediately filters through the speaker and you inadvertently clench down again in panic.

Fernando’s lips peel back in a mild wince before smoothing back into that trademark smug grin of his. He drops his free hand to splay possessively over your lower abdomen, thumb rubbing idle circles into the soft, oversensitized skin there as he regards you with dark, hooded eyes.

“Mark!” He greets your father with forced nonchalance, even as the pads of his calloused fingers dip dangerously close to where you’re still intimately joined. “What can I do for you?”

There’s a pregnant pause during which you can practically picture the slight frown creasing your dad’s brow at Fernando’s strange tone. “Er, sorry to bother you, Nando. I was just ringing to see if my daughter made it to you alright?”

You suck in a sharp breath, eyes going wide as Fernando’s lips quirk up in a devilish smirk. Instead of answering right away, he drags the tip of one finger agonizingly slowly through your damp curls in a wordless warning.

Biting your lip to stifle a moan, you obediently stop clenching your internal muscles, allowing Fernando to sink that few extra incredible inches back inside you with a roll of his hips. His eyes burn with smug satisfaction when you keen softly at the feeling of being so deliciously full.

“She arrived safe and sound,” Fernando finally replies, voice gone low and rough in a way that has your thighs trying to clench instinctively. He holds you open by digging the heel of his palm against your mound, lips twitching when you whimper. “I’m taking very … very good care of her. You don’t need to worry.”

Another pause from your father’s end, this one even longer. You can picture the perplexed furrow in his brow deepening as he tries to figure out the strange undercurrent in Fernando’s tone.

“Right … well, good then. I just wanted to check in and make sure she got there okay after that whole mess with her asshole of an ex.”

You shudder at the memory, hips shifting restlessly against Fernando’s calloused palm in a plea for friction, pressure, anything. He simply watches you squirm with darkly glittering eyes, lazily rubbing his thumb in soothing little circles just below your navel.

“Trust me,” Fernando finally rumbles, voice gone low and graveled in a way that sends a shiver of desire arcing down your spine. “Your little girl is being very well looked after, in every way.”

Your cheeks burn hot at the blatant innuendo lacing his words. Fernando’s smirk widens, like he enjoys seeing you so flustered, before he continues in a tone of exaggerated innocence. “She’s been … quite the handful, really, but I don’t mind.”

Your breath hitches in your throat and you shoot him a betrayed look, clenching reflexively around the thick length still sheathed snugly inside you. Fernando arches one artfully sculpted brow as if in challenge, using his free hand to firmly grip one of your thighs and wrench your legs obscenely further apart in clear retaliation.

You muffle a whimper into the sheets as the new position allows him to grind deeper, that delicious friction quickly unraveling your will to stay quiet. You can already feel the coil of need building rapidly once more with each shallow roll of Fernando’s hips.

“What was that?” Your dad’s mildly bewildered voice suddenly crackles over the line, jarring you back to the reality of the situation.

Cheeks burning with a mixture of arousal and mortification, you blindly grasp for one of the pillows to muffle the series of pitiful noises now spilling past your lips as Fernando ups the intensity of his thrusts.

He leans in closer until the two of you are practically nose-to-nose, teeth sinking into that plush lower lip when you instinctively tighten around him like a velvet vise. Fernando’s eyes roll back briefly before fixing back on you, dark and fathomless as the depths of the Mediterranean.

“Nothing to worry about over here,” he pants through gritted teeth, one hand leaving its bruising grip on your thigh to curl around the back of your neck and pull you into a searing, filthy kiss designed to swallow any incriminating sounds. “Like I said. Just … taking very good care of your little girl.”

There’s one final confused little hum from your father before the line clicks off with a hollow beep. Fernando instantly drops the phone and slants his mouth hungrily over yours once more, all thoughts of the call instantly forgotten as he resumes fucking up into you with renewed vigor.

“My little girl, aren’t you pequeña?” He grates against your lips, punctuating each word with a scorching grind of his hips that has sparks bursting behind your eyelids. “Going to be a good girl and cum all over Papi’s cock again, sí?”

You can only nod wildly in agreement, nails raking down his broad back as that incredible tension inside you winds tighter and tighter. Fernando swallows your cries with his wicked, talented mouth, until finally you go rigid in his arms, back arched as your release rockets through you like a shockwave.

This time Fernando doesn’t even attempt to stifle your hoarse, animalistic keening, merely rearing back to watch in fascination as your complexion colors and your eyes roll back. He growls your name like a prayer, hips snapping erratically as he uses your convulsive flutters to chase his own high. Fernando’s chiseled features contort in pleasure, teeth sinking into his own lip hard enough to draw blood when you bear down with the vise-like strength of your release.

“F-Fuck … gonna … gonna fill you up again,” he grits out, thick cock jerking deep inside your molten depths. “Make you … gonna ah … make you mine forever this time, pequeña ...”

The gravelly promise in his tone somehow penetrates the sweaty, lust-hazed cocoon surrounding you. Your eyes fly open just in time to witness Fernando’s own clenched shut, jaw dropped in a growl as he buries himself to the hilt with one final, bruising grind of his pelvis.

You cry out at the incredible sensation of his release flooding your already stuffed channel with scorching ropes of thick seed. Fernando lets out a shuddering moan of pure gratification, hips working in short, shallow thrusts to pump every last pulse of his sticky essence into your greedy little womb.

When the last tremor of his climax has wrung through him, he drops bonelessly on top of you in a sweaty, panting tangle of sated limbs. You whimper quietly at the delicious feeling of his weight pinning you to the mattress, his softening length still lodged snugly inside as the two of you bask in the afterglow.

Fernando nuzzles into the juncture of your neck and shoulder, pressing lazy, opened-mouthed kisses to your slick, overheated skin. His talented fingers trace abstract patterns up and down your sides, touch reverent as his gravelly voice rumbles against you.

“Going to get you nice and full, pequeña. Fill you up again and again until my baby takes ...”

A violent shudder wracks through you at the filthy promise in his words. Fernando chuckles darkly, gathering you closer against his sweat-slicked chest as his hand drifts down to cup your lower abdomen with tender possessiveness.

“That’s it, let it sink in,” he croons, fingertips rubbing in gentle circles. “My seed taking root deep inside this sweet little womb, putting a baby in your belly ...”

He punctuates the words with a firm press of his palm that has you gasping, walls fluttering greedily around the thick shaft still impaling you. Fernando makes a noise of deep approval low in his throat.

“Going to keep you just like this,” he vows in a tone that brooks no argument, hot and heavy against the sensitive shell of your ear. “Barefoot and pregnant in my bed, that gorgeous body swollen and glowing with my hijo ...”

You whimper at the image his words conjure up — your belly rounded and stretched taut with Fernando’s child, heavy breasts leaking as you cradle his son or daughter. Fernando husks out a laugh at your reaction, nosing along the line of your jaw until you meet his heated gaze.

“You like that idea, don’t you pequeña?” His eyes glitter with a mixture of desire and predatory satisfaction. “Being tied to me forever, in the most permanent way possible?”

You can only nod dumbly, suddenly rendered mute by the depths of your own yearning. Of course you want that — to carry this incredible man’s legacy inside you for all the world to see. To belong to him, completely.

Fernando rumbles his approval against your swollen lips, cupping the back of your head to angle your mouth for a tender, lingering kiss. When he finally breaks away, you try to chase his mouth with a breathless whimper of protest.

“Shh, patience, pequeña,” he murmurs indulgently, thumb stroking over your slick lower lip. His eyes are dancing with dark promise. “You’ll have plenty of time to take your fill of me in the coming months while I breed you over ...”

He kisses the words into the hollow of your throat, teeth grazing the rapid flutter of your pulse point.

“... and over ...” Fernando rolls you onto your back in one smoothly powerful motion, settling his weight over you as he lips trail a blazing path down your abdomen.

“... and over again.” His tongue dips briefly into your navel before he nuzzles lower, nose nudging through your damp curls until his warm breath ghosts over your overstimulated sex. You suck in a ragged gasp, thighs trembling with anticipation as Fernando glances up at you from under those ridiculously long lashes.

“Until it finally takes,” he finishes with a wicked grin before ducking down to swipe one firm lick through your folds. You nearly black out from the electric shock of pleasure-pain, broken cries echoing through the bedroom as Fernando sets to work thoroughly mapping every intimate inch of you with that devilishly skilled mouth and tongue.

True to his filthy promise, Fernando keeps you until the first rosy hints of dawn are just beginning to lighten the horizon outside, thoroughly ravishing your helpless body over and over again until you’re boneless and incoherent with satiation.

It’s only when the first few birds have begun to chirp their morning songs that he finally relents, blanketing you with his solid weight one last time. Fernando’s lips are kiss-swollen as they trail up the line of your throat to find yours in one more long, thorough kiss that leaves you totally plundered.

“Sleep now, pequeña,” he rumbles against your parted mouth, gathering you close as his hand drifts down to splay possessively over the slight tautness of your lower abdomen. “Let my release take nice and deep inside you ...”

You slip into unconsciousness to the sensation of Fernando’s calloused fingertips rubbing soothing circles over your skin and the imprinted promise of his low, sleep-roughened vows.

“I’m going to put a baby in you, pequeña. Going to breed you so full of my children until you’re round and glowing with them … that’s a promise.”

***

Six Months Later

Fernando can’t keep the swell of pride and possessiveness from blooming in his chest as he guides you through the paddock with a supportive hand on the small of your back. His dark gaze keeps flickering down to admire the swell of your belly peeking out beneath the flowing summer dress you’ve chosen for today.

He feels like a conquering king surveying his latest prize as you waddle adorably at his side, the golden sunlight caressing your features and lending a rosy flush to your glowing complexion. Fernando has never seen a more beautiful, ethereal sight than you in this moment — rounded with his child, your body transformed by the life blossoming within.

His hand subconsciously moves to cup the subtle curve of your belly as you pause to allow a team member to pass. Fernando feels a fresh surge of scorching desire and smug satisfaction race through his veins when you instinctively cover his hand with yours, cradling his palm against the taut swell.

“Easy there, pequeña,” he rumbles with a wolfish grin, leaning in until his lips brush the delicate shell of your ear. “We’re in public, remember? Wouldn’t want to give these pendejos an eyeful of how insaciable my little girl has become since getting knocked up ...”

A delightful shiver visibly ripples through you at his words, those gorgeous eyes fluttering shut for the briefest of moments before fixed back on him blown wide and dark with rekindled want. Fernando lets out a low chuckle of approval, arm winding around your waist to pull you flush against his side.

Just then, a familiar figure comes striding around the corner, brows low and thunderous as they zero in on the embrace Fernando has you locked in. Mark Webber falters mid-step as he takes in the rather obvious changes to your body, chin dropping in a comical picture of dumbstruck shock.

Fernando can’t resist angling the two of you forward just enough to emphasize the prominent curve of your belly straining against the flowy fabric of your summer dress. He watches your father’s expression morph from surprise, to confusion, then slowly … realization as the pieces begin to click into place.

Within seconds, Mark’s eyes have narrowed to slits of rage, mouth curling back in a snarl of anger as he picks up his pace and stalks towards the pair of you. Fernando’s own smug expression slips, features settling into a hard mask as he angles his body slightly in front of yours on instinct.

“You motherfucking piece of shit-” Your father snarls, face taking on an alarming reddish hue as he rears back and swings at Fernando.

Fernando manages to sidestep the worst of the blow at the last second, feeling only a glancing impact against his left cheekbone before Mark closes in again with balled fists raised. Behind him, you let out a strangled cry of dismay, reaching out helplessly to grasp at the back of his shirt.

“Dad, no! Fernando, please-”

But Fernando is already sinking into a fighting stance, knees slightly bent and weight evenly distributed. He blocks another wild swing from Mark with ease, allowing the Australian’s momentum to carry him past so Fernando can land a swift, open-handed punch against the side of his head.

The sharp retaliatory crack has Mark stumbling sideways, snarling like an enraged animal. For one brief, wildly intense moment, the two former rivals simply square off — sizing one another up like they’ve done a hundred times before on various circuits when they were both still competing.

From anyone else, Fernando might have been able to laugh off this overreaction, shrug it aside as the misguided anger of a hotblooded father learning his young daughter is now expecting. But this is Mark Webber — a man who has proven himself as fiery and formidable an opponent as they come.

Fernando won’t admit it aloud, but a tiny thrill of excitement races through him at the prospect of a proper throwdown with his old nemesis turned friend. He throws you a quick glance over his shoulder, assessing if he needs to move you further away before the situation escalates.

You surprise him by shaking your head adamantly, those beautiful eyes blazing with protective fury of your own as you plant yourself squarely in between the two men.

“Fernando, don’t hurt him,” you plead, gaze flickering between him and the bristling Aussie now clambering back to his feet. “He’s just-”

“Being a bloody psychopathic bastard,” Mark spits, wiping a hand across his rapidly swelling lip. His hateful glare lands accusingly on the prominent swell of your middle. “Fucking hell , Nando. She’s just a kid-”

Fernando feels his own temper ratcheting up several notches at the venom and dismissal lacing the other man’s tone. He takes an aggressive step forward, forcing you back behind the shield of his powerful frame.

“Don’t talk about her like she isn’t here to defend herself,” Fernando growls, unconcerned that they’re rapidly drawing an audience from the swarm of crew personnel surrounding them.

He arches a challenging brow at your father’s scathing glower. “What’s wrong? Upset that while you were off galivanting around the globe, I was putting a baby in your daughter’s belly?”

Mark lets out an outraged roar, lurching forward to throw another wild haymaker that Fernando easily ducks under. You cry out in distress, hands coming up to grip at Fernando’s biceps from behind as you try to bodily pull him away from the furious Australian’s reach.

“Both of you, stop!” Your shrill voice cuts through the tense alleyway, causing both men to pause for a split-second and glance towards you. “Nando, don’t provoke him! And you-” You aim an accusatory finger at your seething father. “Lay one more hand on Fernando and I swear to god-”

Whatever heated threat you were preparing goes unvoiced as a sudden aura of pain visibly ripples across your features, brow furrowing and lips parting on a pained gasp. Your hands instinctively fly down to cradle your belly, entire body locking up with tension.

Fernando’s heart leaps into his throat as he recognizes the clear signs of distress from months spent doting upon your every subtle twinge and discomfort. Immediately, his previous temper fades into a dull, distant roar easily overshadowed by the all-consuming need to ensure your well-being.

“Pequeña?” He’s at your side in an instant, gripping your upper arms to steady you as a light sheen of perspiration blooms on your brow. “Breathe through it, mi amor … just breathe, okay?”

“I-I’m fine,” you manage in a tight voice. “Just a twinge. The excitement is probably too mu-ahh!”

You gasp again, nails digging punishingly into Fernando’s forearms as your knees threaten to buckle. All hints of masculine posturing flee his mind as Fernando smoothly sweeps you up into a secure bridal carry, heedless of the soft whimpers of discomfort now trickling past your parted lips.

He locks eyes with a stunned Mark over your bent crown, gaze impassive and steady. “You heard her. The excitement is too much. We’re leaving.”

Without waiting for a response, Fernando swivels on his heel and marches back the way you’d originally come with you cradled protectively against his chest. He keeps his strides measured and unhurried, but still manages to put a fair amount of distance between the pair of you and your father’s petulant anger in a matter of moments.

Once you’ve rounded a quiet corner alcove, Fernando gently lowers you to a relatively secluded stack of equipment crates, bracing your lower back and guiding you into a seated position.

“Wait here,” he murmurs against your hairline, dropping a fleeting kiss to the rapidly dampening strands stuck to your brow. Fernando’s fingers ghost down to cradle your belly once more, silently assessing for any areas of increased tension. “I’ll be back in just a moment with some water and a physio, alright?”

You nod weakly, squirming to rest back against the cool metal behind you as another pained grimace flits across your features. Fernando feels his heart clench at the wretched, lost expression clouding your eyes.

Cupping your cheek, he tilts your chin up until you meet his heated gaze. “Don’t look so afraid, pequeña. Everything will be fine, you’ll see.”

Fernando leans in until his nose brushes against yours, allowing the familiar closeness and the scent of his cedar and bergamot cologne to soothe you. “Our little one is just reminding us who’s boss, that’s all. But Papi’s here … I’ll take care of both of you, sí?”

You manage a weak smile at that, some of the tension bleeding from your delicate features as you nod against his palm. Fernando presses one more lingering kiss to your brow before reluctantly pulling away.

“I’ll be right back, mi vida. Just breathe deeply for me in the meantime.”

With one final reassuring caress to your belly, Fernando turns on his heel and strides back out into the bustling paddock area. His jaw is set in a tense line, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides as he mentally catalogs which team staff he needs to track down.

Rounding a corner, Fernando very nearly barrels straight into the rigid form of your father standing there with arms crossed, clearly waiting to waylay him. The Aussie’s expression is thunderous, eyes blazing with hurt and undisguised fury.

“So that’s it then?” Mark bites out in a tone of barely restrained aggression. “You’ve gone and knocked up my little girl. My own daughter, Nando ...”

Fernando holds up a dismissive hand, in no mood to allow your father’s misplaced anger to provoke another confrontation — not when you’re so clearly in distress. “Don’t start with me again.” His tone is low, brooking no argument. “Your daughter is safe and being well looked after, that’s all that matters right now.”

With that, he moves to sidestep around Mark, only to find his path blocked by the other man’s broad chest as he steps directly into Fernando’s space. The former World Champion narrows his eyes warningly, feeling his temper ratcheting back up in the face of such insolence.

“Look, you arrogant Spanish prick,” Mark growls, lips peeling back in a menacing sneer. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing here, but-”

Fernando abruptly cuts him off with a harsh bark of humorless laughter, dark eyes glittering dangerously. “A game?” He shakes his head slowly, expression one of vaguely disbelieving contempt. “You really think that’s all this is to me? Getting one up on you by deflowering your little girl and leaving her pregnant, alone, and disgraced?”

The other man flinches almost imperceptibly at the crass words, clearly thrown by Fernando’s frank disdain. The Spaniard presses on relentlessly. “Any man who would treat a situation like this so flippantly doesn’t deserve to consider themselves a real man at all — let alone a father.”

Mark’s face has turned an alarming shade of puce, whether from shame or sheer unchecked rage Fernando neither knows nor cares. He simply crowds further into the Australian’s space, heedless of how their chests nearly brush with each harsh exhalation.

“Make no mistake, I love that woman and the child she carries more than life itself,” Fernando states with conviction, cadence low and gravelly. “If you’re asking whether I intend to be there for them both as a partner, as a father … my answer is simple.”

He pauses just long enough to allow the weight of his next words to truly sink in.

“For as long as your daughter and my children will have me, you couldn’t pry me away from their sides with a fucking crowbar.”

Fernando holds your father’s seething gaze for one final beat, satisfaction lancing through him at seeing the other man seemingly robbed of his righteous anger. With a curt nod, he finally moves to brush past the speechless Australian without another word —intent on fetching the physio like he had originally set out to do.

Because in the end, Mark Webber’s approval means less than nothing to Fernando. All that matters is rushing back to your side and ensuring your safety and comfort. You and the new life blossoming within you are his entire world now.

As if to reaffirm the point, you suddenly appear around the corner, one hand braced protectively under the swell of your abdomen.

“Nando,” you breathe in a tremulous voice, blindly reaching for him. “The little one misses you ...”

Fernando instantly abandons all thoughts of confronting Mark, or retrieving a physio, or anything else as he rushes to gather you up in his arms once more. He cradles you tenderly to his chest as your fingers twist almost convulsively in the fabric of his Hugo Boss shirt, dark eyes wide and pleading.

Fernando glances down at you cradled protectively in his arms, heart clenching at the distressed furrow of your brow and shallow, panting breaths.

Readjusting his grip, he dips his head to murmur a string of soothing Spanish endearments against your sweat-dampened hairline as he carries you through the winding labyrinth of the paddock. His strides are measured but purposeful, not rushing — he needs to get you somewhere quiet and comfortable to recover from the ordeal.

Finally, Fernando spots a secluded alcove tucked away behind a cluster of tires. He quickly guides you over and gently lowers you onto an emptied workbench, cocooning you against his broad chest.

“There, there, pequeña,” he croons, lips brushing your brow. “Just breathe nice and deep for Papi, just like we practiced ...”

You nod weakly, fingers reflexively flexing against the solid planes of Fernando’s abdomen as you struggle to pull in deep gulps of air. He deftly tugs the neckline of your summer dress aside to expose more of your flushed skin, using the hem to dab away the perspiration beading on your chest and throat.

“That’s it, mi vida,” he praises in that dark, soothing timbre. “Just like that, easy does it ...”

Slowly, the tension bleeds from your features as the worst of the discomfort subsides. Fernando doesn’t dare loosen his supportive embrace, nor does he tear his increasingly heated gaze away from your parted lips as each measured exhale puffs across his skin.

“Better now?” He murmurs, thumb tracing the delicate arch of your cheekbone reverently. A rosy blush stains your complexion when you nod meekly, lashes fanning across those glorious cheekbones.

“Good girl,” Fernando rumbles, helpless not to drink in the gorgeous picture you make — cheeks flushed, lips swollen, eyes glazed with lingering stardust. He grips your jaw in a firm caress, tilting your chin up until your gazes lock.

“Because I must admit,” he husks softly, gaze darkening to molten whiskey. “Seeing you like this, with my child safe inside you … has me feeling quite possessive, pequeña.”

You shudder visibly at his words, tongue darting out to wet those plump lips in a blatant show of want. Fernando doesn’t miss the subtle gesture, allowing his gaze to dip briefly to track the slick path your tongue carves before fixing back on your rapidly dilating pupils.

“Would you like that, hmm?” He lowers his voice to a sensual rumble, skimming his thumb across your lower lip in a wordless command for access. “Having Papi show you just how adored, how cherished you and our little one inside you truly are?”

A whimper catches in the back of your throat as you readily accept the gentle press of Fernando’s calloused digit between your parted lips. Your eyes flutter shut on a trembling exhale as he slowly begins to glide the thick pad of his thumb across that heavenly softness, careful not to scrape the sensitive skin with his nail.

“That’s it, pequeña,” he growls, a tad hoarse as desire visibly burns behind those long lashes. “Suckle for me, let me take care of you both nice and proper ...”

Fernando rocks forward ever so slightly, allowing the swollen curve of your belly to brush against his solid abs with each tiny shuddering breath you drag in through your nose. He keeps up the lazy, hypnotic strokes of his thumb until you’re completely transfixed — hips shifting restlessly against his thighs and soft, muffled mewls escaping past the seal of your swollen lips.

“Such a good girl,” he murmurs, voice pitched low enough to rasp straight through you and ignite every raw nerve ending. “So sweet and responsive for Papi … going to reward that gorgeous little mouth in just a moment, I promise.”

You whine wantonly around his thumb in response, eyes fluttering back open to reveal pupils blown wide with naked yearning. Fernando chuckles indulgently, thumb tracing the delicate bow of your lower lip one final time before retreating fully.

“So eager,” he tuts without any real admonishment. Leaning in close, he angles his head to brush kiss-swollen lips against the outer shell of your ear. “Don’t fret, pequeña. I’ll take such good care of both of you right here, right now ...”

Fernando drops a lingering series of kisses along the line of your jaw, letting his lush mouth trail lower and lower with each heated murmur.

“Will remind you exactly who you belong to … who made you … who put this child in your belly ...”

His final words are an exhale ghosting out across your thundering pulse. Fernando immediately latches on with his teeth, nipping and sucking a series of stinging, possessive marks into your sensitized flesh that has you arching against him with a strangled cry of pure bliss.

Out here, cloaked in the shadow of the paddock where anyone could stumble across the two of you — your father included — and discover just how thoroughly Fernando has claimed you. The taboo thrill of it all is utterly intoxicating.

As your trembling fingers find purchase in his clothes, dragging him nearer with insistence, Fernando feels that familiar molten lick of possessive pride unfurl deep in his core. You are his now, fully and completely — mind, body, and soon … family.

Just the way it was always meant to be.

545 notes · View notes

iznsfw · 3 months

Text

Lucid Dream

IZ Days of Christmas 2023: Day 7 - Kim Minju

IZ*ONE's Kim Minju x Male Reader Smut

8,525 words

Categories | married man!You, wife!Wonyoung, daddy kink, degradation, rough sex, OC is not a good person

Content warning | cheating, humiliation, Wonyoung slander (it hurt to write but I read "Gone Girl" by Gillian Flynn recently so I guess that went into the whole wife-hating thing)

Skipping again a bit (still will do Chaeyeon and Chaewon and everyone because IZ*ONE best girls). Expect a commission and an IZ Days of Xmas fics this month again <3 I love you all, you make me happy. And as always, sorry for the inconsistency!

Wonyoung is beautiful.

You stare at her as she undresses in front of the full-length mirror. She’s the kind of woman whose vanity seldom rolls eyes because her adoration for herself—smoothing down her dark hair, strictly adhering herself to that keto diet, doing her skincare with the dedication of one who prays nightly to god (pick any)—is wholly justifiable. Look at her. Anyone would understand.

The dress she wore for her hosting show slips off her body. Her abs reflect in the mirror, the result of hard work in the gym. Wonyoung’s waist is impeccable. Magazines have written over and over tips to attain it but it seems that the signature Bratz doll feature can only belong to Wonyoung. The makeup was cleaned up by her stylist but her eyes still shine, her lashes are still long, and her lips are still plump.

Wonyoung is standing there in nothing but her underwear, an attractive set of lace.

Wonyoung is the perfect female form, a goddess from above choosing a man from below.

Wonyoung is beautiful, a feat that no matter how amazing besides true, she remains the same old fucking bore.

“Did you like my MCing, babe?” she asks.

“Uh-huh.”

Her legs, long and thin, move in planned strides down the room. To the bed. You know where this is going.

Your feet are killing you. Recline, welcoming yourself into the softness of the expensive mattress and pillows your wife paid for all in all. “Wonyoung, I’m tired.”

She’s a celebrity. Of course, endless days filled to the edge with schedules chase after her. She ought to understand. The nights are her only rest hours, yet with this energy, it’s like Jang Wonyoung never gets exhausted. Always bubbly, always sweet, always so seductive.

All these are positive traits that any other man would adore and own had you not married her.

Wonyoung makes an adorable sigh. “But you say that everytime,” she replies sullenly.

She’s pushing her lips out into this cute pout while her brown puppy eyes beg you to give in like you used to. Once upon a time, you were putty around Wonyoung. Never could give an answer without your voice shaking. Never could come near her without blushing.

She’s the prettiest woman in the world.

You’re the most awful, undeserving man in the world, for all you could think, as you look at her, is: Fucking bitch.

“Well, maybe it’s because I’m always tired.”

“How about,” she puts a finger on her chin, “I do the job for you?”

Her knees are bruised. You notice this when she drops to them so she could pull your pants to the ground. So she’s been doing this for so long? Lowering herself for you? Sucking you off? You thought that she’d get the hint by now: you don’t want to have sex with her.

So instead, she uses her mouth. Better than her pussy anyway. What are you saying? She’s a tight woman. But it’s the same thing everyday: she gets on your cock and you hear her annoying voice straining as she rides you. Her cunt, soaked and useless, makes you want to call her its name. She’s always needy. It isn’t flattering when you don’t reciprocate it.

It’s a goddamned chore. Wonyoung’s throat welcomes you. The other way around, actually: your cock welcomes a claustrophobically closed passageway and has to deal with it until you cum. It’s an unwanted visitor. She rang the bell, said hi, and you let her in. Doesn’t mean you like her there.

“Doing so good, baby,” you say. Oh, yeah, doesn’t mean you mean it either—although you do feel Wonyoung smile happily. She’s happy when she makes you happy. When she makes you give her the illusion that you have any happiness in this worn-out marriage.

Her lips seal around you. You can feel them suckling. Your knees are tense. The moans are forced, though. Hearing them come out from your own mouth makes you want to place a pillow over your face and press it down as hard as you can.

She slides you down her throat. Admittedly, you love the way she chokes. Her eyes get all watery, like she’s crying from pain. That sounds appealing.

You’re a critically messed up man, you know. But they’re what make the world go ‘round. Why do you think they write romance books about them—the bad boy, the mafia boss, the killer? Plus, one of those “terrible” people inspires the biggest Korean celebrity to continue hosting, dancing, and singing. So who’s so terrible now?

To conclude, if anything, you’re the one responsible for Wonyoung’s success.

To conclude, you groan as desperately as you can then release in her mouth. Wonyoung gags. Another pretty sound. Her eyes look up while she attempts to swallow. Saliva sticks to her chin. Semen floods up to the roof of her mouth. It reminds you of how it ends up there more often than in her womb.

You would’ve made beautiful children with Wonyoung in another world where she wasn’t famous and you actually loved her. You would have been a softer, kinder man. She would have been a person who’s easier to love and make love with.

“Wonyoung, Wonyoung, that… was incredible.”

If you weren’t a director, you’d be the one on camera. You’re a great actor when it comes to your wife. Your incompetence in the house is masked by husbandly exhaustion; an artificial gaze of attentiveness hides your indifference to conversation.

She smiles coquettishly. “I try.”

The wide closet parts. She chooses a pair of silk pajamas that hang around her thin frame. She climbs onto the bed and wraps an arm around you. Her skin is always cold to the touch. Like she’s dead or something. How interesting.

You stroke her hair. “I’d return the favor but… I’m actually gonna pass out. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” She kisses your forehead. Wonyoung’s a sweet girl. “Good night.”

You smile. Say it back. Her eyelids flutter closed. Her palms are flat against each other and are placed under her cheek. Cute, you guess. She sleeps.

You don’t.

You should have—nothing good ever happens after midnight.

2:05 a.m., more specifically.

Amazing how time slips through your grasp like air. You reach and reach, desperate for a return, desperate for a flash to the past. As always, your efforts aren’t fruitful. The seconds pour through the pinched waist of the hourglass and you can’t stand it on its other head. You’re unable to revert back to the moment you took your arm from underneath your wife’s skull. The moment you opened your phone. If you hadn’t, maybe things would have been different.

But it’s past two, and you’re resting your back on the pillowy headboard with your phone in your hands. The circumstances just play right into danger: Wonyoung’s asleep, the night is eerily quiet, and the screen is there, awaiting the secret routine. Which girls would you cum for today? Why aren’t your thumbs clicking over censored sites?

Your feed shows a naked woman, her eyes staring up and her mouth wide. Scroll past that—you prefer the amateur videos, where the expressions balance between exaggerated and naturally provoked. A ton of videos could help in the bathroom where you take your nightly “shower,” and it’s not one of those.

Maybe you need the real thing.

Look at Wonyoung. Perhaps you should have let her ride you just so you could cum in a warm pussy again. After all, it’s the least you could do when you were once a fan of her. That’s how everyone starts: puppy-like adoration. But she doesn’t have the star quality she once did onstage; the coy thoughtful princess you envisioned her as. That’s why you haven’t fucked her in weeks.

You’re about to wrap your hand around your cock and ready yourself for another night of conflicted pleasure. This video is perfect for that already. You could jerk yourself off then get a good night’s sleep. Simple. This is the safest option for a dangerous want. By just watching, you’re not cheating on your wife. It’s just porn. Jerk off, cum, cum again probably, then sleep. Nobody gets hurt.

“Fuck me… please,” whimpers the woman in the video. Her legs are spread open. Her partner’s swiping his cock at her lips while she looks at him with equal hunger, equal desire. “I can’t take it anymore.”

Then, a text message notifies you, peeking from the top of your screen. It dares you to click it.

And it says the exact same thing.

fuck me please, i cant take it anymore.

i miss you

You look around, like you’re afraid someone might see it. There’s only the dimness of your bedroom that greets you. It’s safe, but this message isn’t.

The number is familiar. Has one of your friends gone crazy? Or did they send a text to the wrong person? Take it for spam, a perfectly coincidental one, or a scam, a typical, preying-on-the-married, pwning message.

But why would a contact spam you at a time so strangely perfect?

Don’t bother. Your fist works on your dick as you watch the video. The woman’s so wet that although she isn’t squirting, her juices start to stick to the man’s thighs. Her mouth is wide open as he finally pounds her.

What you’d give to have good sex like that again.

XXX-XXX-XXX sent a video message.

Fine. Click it, you’re curious.

Oh, so apparently, the answer is your marriage.

The video shows a face that’s more intimate than familiar. The ebony-black hair already tells you who she is, as does her body. Her form is encased in a floral tank top and nothing else. Although her chest is covered, she’s still a little daring with how her nipples stamp the fabric. She turns herself around to let you admire the curve of her wide hips and her round butt.

There’s only one woman with a body so perfect. And she’s the one and only Kim Minju.

There are reasons for everything. This is yours for why you didn’t give this number a name:

No one needs to know just from a text that you cheated on Jang Wonyoung.

That was so long ago, back when you were still boyfriend and girlfriend. You were drunk and missed Wonyoung’s old self. Why did she have to be such a bitch? Why did she dedicate herself to work and leave you dry? It’s not like the industry would go bankrupt without her. Minju came over, listened to your complaints—every little whine about Wonyoung being busy, every little jab at her workaholic character—then said something along the lines of, why don’t you have a little fun while she’s away.

And you thought… yeah, that was a really great idea.

That was the beginning of the end. After multiple secret meet-ups and raunchy sex in alleyways, you didn’t contact Minju again. You forgot her. You thought she did, too. She should have understood that your infidelity, albeit alluring, would be a thing of the past.

But here she is, in your messages, with a pornographic clip of herself in a round-cornered bubble. She’s waiting for a reply.

Although you’ve long lost your aspirations to be a better husband, you type what a good man should. This man is proper, faithful, and loving. He loves his wife only and the only other people he loves with this deep of a bond is his family.

Stop texting me or I’ll block you.

It’s not enough. You’re not a good man. You aren’t proper or faithful or loving or any of that shit. You were about to masturbate to an internet celebrity after turning down sex with your wife. What about that makes you a good person?

:( you miss me sooooo bad it’s pathetic, Minju replies.

You look at her again. You may not be able to turn back time with your metaphorical hourglass, but you can turn this hourglass body into any position you want. You could push her against a window for all to see, perhaps fuck her to the floor, or slam her on a desk like a teacher would to a test paper. Minju would let you do anything to her.

Stop it.

She really has to. As much as you dislike Wonyoung, she’s your wife, and you vowed on your wedding day to only have eyes for her.

But you’re only one man against a body like Minju’s that curves in every right place.

Three circles float up and down in a contained bubble before she texts you back:

alright…what a pity :( i’m already outside!! i guess ill have to go back…

You’ve never bolted out of bed so fast.

You look back at Wonyoung as you stand in the doorway. She’s still in deep slumber. Now, are the curtains closed? The entrances locked? Scan the house thoroughly, until you inch your way to the front door.

Hesitate. You didn’t know you had a conscience but here it is. It tells you to wonder if Minju really is behind it, like she said. She knows how to use the privilege of being Wonyoung’s close friend. That’s how she came to your house like she used to with no worry for paparazzi or suspicion. Best friends don’t fuck their best friends’ husbands, right?

Open the door. This one did.

Minju grew more beautiful in her absence. Her hair is silkier this time and her shy smile is brighter. The long coat is smoothed by her fingers, and you wish you could be the brown piece of fabric her pale hands run down. What makes you guilty for thinking it, even when you’ve done it, is the fact that she looks so innocent. It’s like it would be a crime to even buy her a drink.

How could she be innocent with that photo she sent? The time you spent together: you folding her over a table and promising to fill her up? Fucking her while Wonyoung is busy and counting on you to welcome her home? Sending nudes like there’s no tomorrow? Nothing about Minju is pure, yet she acts like she could do no wrong.

“Minju,” you say. Your voice sounds fragile. She has a way of breaking you befote you’re breaking her into breaking another bed.

She blinks theatrically. Everything she does is angelic. “Glad you opened the door.”

The knob is cold in your fist. It chills your animalistic brain and urges you to consider the consequences. Right, it says, here’s what a human—a good one—would think. If Wonyoung wakes and sees you with Minju, she’d have a lot of questions. If paparazzi are somehow hiding in the forest that extends to acres before your house, everyone would know you’re cheating on her. Most of all, you’re married, monogamy and everything.

So what will it be? This is your last and only chance to send her away.

You know what you have to do. Take a few breaths. “You have to leave. I’m not joking, it isn’t right.”

In response, Minju unravels the ribbon of the layers sealed around her waist. It falls apart. You do, too.

She’s a real danger. As it turns out, the girl isn’t wearing anything underneath that trench coat. She’s an artist’s naked muse—bare long legs, wide hips, and a sizable bust that has sculptors carving something else.

The cold hardens her pink nipples. You notice how her breasts are much bigger than your wife’s. How her hips are more tempting to grab, so you do. How her body is meatier, a lot more enticing that you wouldn’t refuse a day without touching it.

Minju fuels your infidelity, and you won’t stop for it if it kills you.

She simpers, fingers curling into your work shirt. “Still wanna make me leave,” she asks, “when you can breed me all night long?”

You laugh, huffing it out as you pull her inside and close the door behind her. Minju looks gorgeous pressed to it. She looks gorgeous in whatever situation, actually. Her thighs squish against the carved design and look thicker as a result. More reasons to dive into that shaven cunt and abuse it.

“You’re not leaving until we make a fucking mess, Minju.” You take your shirt off. Throw it on the ground. “And we better make it quick.”

“Of course.” She nods. She’s slyer than a fox, but she submits to you without a second thought.

You lean in to kiss her. The heat is unbearable. You can feel it from Minju’s body transferring to yours. It’s the effect of her natural skills as your personal slut: trying to fit her tongue deeper in your mouth while you pull her close like she’d dare to run away.

You haven’t gotten this hard for anyone else. It’s always been Minju you fall for. You miss the way she kisses, the way she roams her hands all over your torso, the way she’s goddamned insatiable. Feeling it all now in one, heated moment makes you dizzy. You’re taking in too much of her, but without her, you’d go thirsty again.

Your fingers are in her hair; hers are on your waist. Your teeth are clamped down on Minju’s bottom lip; hers are apart and allow soft moans to pass through—one, two, three. You fit each other in so many wicked ways. They did say misery loves company.

Open your eyes. The dream doesn’t stop. Minju’s still pushing her mouth in your face and you’re letting her. You don’t know if you ought to be relieved or downright horrified. You’re cheating on Wonyoung again with a woman whose body is just a bit nicer. You should be furious at yourself. You aren’t.

You’ve made out with each other on the way to the dining room. You and your wife worked hard for its designed walls and sturdy, well-furnished ornaments. A lot of money was raked out to make this house the best place to call home. So, why do you want to ruin it?

Well, because of her.

Minju leans on the dining table with a funny smile on her face. “She really doesn’t do it for you, huh?” she asks.

It makes you wince how you know who she’s talking about. Who else is she referring to other than poor Wonyoung? Poor, skinny, ugly Wonyoung?

Nibble at her earlobe. Hear little gasps come out of her. “Don’t talk about her,” you say.

You don’t want to have any afterthoughts about fucking Minju. Besides, being reminded that you’re disloyal to a woman who loves you very much is painful, even to a man like you.

Wonyoung is an angel. Minju isn’t—but you run after her to darkness.

“Ohh, come on, I know I’m better than her.” Minju squirms with erotic moans. Your kisses are going south, and she loves their little detour. “You don’t fuck her like you fuck me.”

When was the last time you worshiped Wonyoung? Like what you’re doing to Minju now? Your lips haven’t passed over it in ages that you probably wouldn’t know where the bigs and smalls of her body are. Like there’s anything to know.

“Actually,” you snort, “I don’t fuck her at all.”

You stop chuckling. That was the wrong thing to say. That was the wrongest thing to say out of the millions of other cocky phrases you could’ve thrown to Minju. The look on her face, the one that’s of pride and submission and dangerous knowledge united, tells you to watch your mouth.

You’re five seconds minimum too late to listen.

Minju grins. There’s the answer she wanted. “That’s how it is? Just looking at a girl and thinking you wanna stamp a divorce approval on her forehead? Jesus. This is why I never got married.”

“First off, nobody put a ring on you because you’re a slut, Minju.”

“That’s only the third reason.” Her fingers drape the sides of your face and tugs you in. You’re invited to the sight of her infallible tits. “These are the first two.”

The girl isn’t as busty as that woman Wonyoung likes to call her industry mom, but you bet they’re better. No, it’s a matter of truth. Minju’s boobs aren’t too big or too small; just the perfect, filling size to hold onto when you’re railing her from behind.

You choose to suck on them for now. It’s like a trip down memory lane when you kiss down her neck and collarbone. You remember how good her smooth, soft skin feels beneath you, how her moans are a favorite tune. Minju bites her lip while you do so to her shoulder.

It’s crazy to think that she just so happened to be born with this. She was born to be a pretty face with a sex-defined body that you pull and push and pry apart. Best thing is, she’ll lay back down and beg for more. It’s like she knows her purpose, which would’ve shot down her dignity and humanity.

Her nipple pops in your mouth. Your sucking guarantees its hardness, and Minju starts whining. She arcs her body, wanting something rougher. Thus, you seize the span of her hip to rub her pearl with fierce speed.

“Oh, fuck, god—” What others might take for blasphemy, you take for praise. Minju’s already soaking wet. She would have had embarrassing laundry to do if she wore panties. Maybe it’s a good thing she arrived wearing nothing.

She’s still so sensitive. You caress her clit after a few kisses down her midriff. She fidgets needily like you aren’t already touching her. You’re nearly right—this touch is nothing when she needs something harsher. That something involves you treating her less than a human being, putting her down and tearing at her hair.

“Please just fuck me,” she whispers. “Breed me, breed me, breed me—”

Yeah, that’s what she wants.

You don’t need further motivation, not when you’re presented with the prettiest pussy you’ve ever seen. Her fat lips are soaked. They frame the clitoris you’ve been stimulating that shines with slick. Then there’s the tiniest hole below it that begs to be used.

Your digits shove past all tightness. Her wetness allows a deeper exploration, so you curl your digits like you’re beckoning the orgasm forward. You know how easily you can get it out of her. All it needs to get Minju cumming around you is a slap, roughness, and giving her what she wants anyway. You know your methods, she knows hers. It’s a recognizable cycle that despite this, you can’t break.

Part your fingers widely to spread her. She’s so wet that she soaks your knuckles. There’s an ocean inside her waiting to be waved to shore. A storm, too, brews from the base of her throat as Minju whimpers. Her body lifts off the table but you force her down on it. She isn’t going anywhere, not without a fight.

Oh, and fight she does. She was an idol before an actress, so her muscles still memorize the circling motions that repeat on your fingers rather than move onstage. She sang once. That was a long time ago yet her voice sounds perfect as it strains her moans. Every little thing she does is a reflection of her past.

That’s why when she leans back, pupils dilating north, and says “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” you get deja vu.

Your palm hits her clit, adding impact to your strokes. “There you go, little slut,” you snarl. “Are you happy now? Maybe even a little grateful?”

If Minju’s ass isn’t pressed down on the glass mantling your dining table, it hovers so her pink little hole receives you better. It’s not without the help of her weak hands clinging to the table for dear life, but she seems to be losing her balance. Her hips are shuddering. Her beautiful face is squeezed up into a blissful wince. Her breaths are becoming blunt little gasps that say none of the gratitude you want to hear.

You slap her boob. Red blooms from her pale skin that deepens when another impacts her bosom. The recoil dizzies you. If anyone’s getting the impression that you’ll slap her bouncy tits until you hear a proper word of thanks, they’d be right. First impressions are right just for once.

“T-thank you—” Her voice cracks, breaking like her. “Fuck, shit, thank you, thank you.”

Squeeze her cruelly and pull on the perky nipple. Your thrusts become mindlessly paced. Your hand returns to your cock while the other ruins her pussy. The pleasure is telepathic. It’s connecting you; her screams and squirms make you do the same. The electricity firing up in your veins is a shared network. When you point your fingers to her spot, she arcs her back in the same direction. How beautifully fucked up is that?

“That’s not enough. You didn’t come here for nothing. What do you want, Minju?”

Minju babbles. You got your gratitude but not a proper answer. To be fair, she can’t speak when you’re fucking her like it’s your dick inside her, and when your lips are all over her collarbone.

“And you better keep quiet,” you add, curling your thrusts, “or Wonyoung‘s gonna hear. Do you really want her to know her precious friend is a big slut?”

However, despite the rumors she starts, Minju could be a very good girl when needed.

“Need you to make me cum,” she whispers. Her midriff is fluid as water with the way it rolls, showing off the hourglass shape of her waist and a soft tummy. “Do everything to me you can’t with Wonyoung. P-please, I can’t take it.”

Even if she can’t (wrong by the way), you’ll make her. She asked for it. She walked up to your house with a purpose: to be used, to be treated like less of a human being. So it’s understandable that you slam her down the table and seal a hand around her neck.

She’s so light that the forceful push doesn’t break the fragile glass. But there’s something of hers instead that’s going to be broken.

“Oh fuck! It’s so–” Minju’s eyes roll back. “Ohh… oh!”

Little sparks of wetness shoot in the air. Your pace turns merciless. With just three fingers, you puppet her body. Strings are pulled—her arms raise and her long legs strain to pull you in. You push and she keens, you pull and she yells. You’re making her desecrate the place with her water.

“C-can’t breathe.” A squeeze of her beautiful features—eyelids wrinkling, mouth parting, cheeks filling with scarlet—occurs before she squirts again. She whimpers pathetically, sounding so pitiful you want to laugh. “Ah, fuck, daddy—”

Something stirs inside you. When men hear that name, it ought to feel purely platonic and familial. They’d hear it from their daughter and feel compelled to protect them from men who’d do to them what you do to Minju. But you much prefer hearing that two-syllable word when it comes from a naked woman squirting all over the floor, from whom once you register it, you’re urged to pin her down, tie her down, hold her down.

Ironically, you release her. That isn’t because it’s over though. “On your knees. Follow me.”

Minju releases a gasp, grateful for the oxygen. The color returns to her face yet she barely has the energy to get off the table. You’re a generous man, and hey, it still counts as helping. So you yank her hair and force her on the ground. She fucking moans, a feat deserving of a healthy spank to her ass.

You walk to the living room. She follows you withher hands and knees bearing the cold tiles. You lead her to the place where you spend your time watching movies, rehearsing, and hanging out with Wonyoung if she’s ever home.

Speaking of, glance at the door of your bedroom. It’s still closed. It’ll stay that way.

Look down after wondering why Minju’s noisier. She’s playing with herself on the floor with no care for the cold chill of the tiles or the little dirt wedged between them. She lightly rubs her abused clit, quivering at the contact. You expect that from her—she’s corrupted, an irredeemable cause. She’ll get herself off anytime anywhere.

But what’s unexpected is what those watery eyes are focused on: you, in a framed picture on the wall. You look younger, happier. You’re in formal garments standing next to Wonyoung in a church.

It was you on your wedding day.

You spit on Minju. “Filthy cumslut.”

The drool slides down her cheek like a tear. She darts her tongue out and licks it. One could’ve thought it was candy considering the lift of a smile.

“I’m sorry, daddy,” she says resolutely. Her fingers still toy with her entrance. They won’t serve her well when there’s a bigger, better thing behind your pants to do it for her.

Your pants are already off. “Get up. Get the fuck up,” you command, but you do it for her.

You grab her neck and force her up. The look on her face is addicting, the way the shock turns into carnal need, the way she bites her lip. You press her to the wall, right under the framed wedding pictures, and finally plunge yourself inside her.

“Oh, oh, oh!”

What did Minju do to get this tight? Her walls are squeezed closer around you than you remember. They’re still wet from her squirting, easing your burden of fighting against the tautness of her core.

Her groans are pitched just like how you pitch yourself in her and make her fight for it. She tries everything: gathering the strength she has to push her ass into your crotch, rolling her body, looking back to watch your cock disappear between her lips.

“So big, daddy!” she cries. With a lick of her lips, she turns to face you. “Mmm, d-do you ever get this massive when you’re fucking Wonyoung?”

That seals it. There’s no restraint in using her body. Her plump ass leading to her toned back is a temptation by itself. You’d burst all over it (maybe in it) if you weren’t already firm in breeding her. But dear god—it rises and descends into your angled pumps so effortlessly that you aren’t afraid to spank it like you’re angry at her.

“Keep your whore mouth shut.”

Spank after spank you bestow and you realize, oh, you and Minju are really made for each other. The more her ass reddens, the more hot pain sparks on your palm. She throws herself back hard, you piston her harder.

Your puzzle pieces stick together so perfectly that it’s a shame you didn’t meet under different circumstances. She could’ve been an adorable girl next door and you could have been a guy looking to slip her a love letter. She would’ve been your loving girlfriend, a beautiful wife, someone you’d actually enjoy touching, so different from the woman asleep in the bed upstairs.

But that’s never happening. Minju’s a slut through and through, and she’ll forever be a sin you won’t go to confessions for. She was made to be fucked then discarded of when she’s no longer of use. You see it in the way she’s in a mantra of craziness, the way she yells, the way she looks back at you like she’s daring you to hurt her.

You choose the dare rather than to tell her the truth. You curl her hair into a fist and pull her into you.

“God, I’m so close.” Minju’s trembling body grows warmer in your touch. “I’m gonna cum all over your big gorgeous cock. I can’t hold out longer, daddy.”

Your teeth dig into her earlobe. You could make her bleed and she’d still find a way to make the pain heavenly. “I thought I told you to be quiet. Is Wonyoung waking up and ending your life worth it for this?”

“What if I say yes?”

“Fuck.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice, making her see you’d give her away to get a night with me? You’ll give up all this stupid shit t-to be my daddy. Because Wonyoung’s just sooo worthless, isn’t she?”

Savage her cunt and shove your fingers down her mouth just so she could shut up. You love this. Minju’s always so ready for you.

No, actually—now that you think about it, you hate it. You hate how she’s curvier than your wife, how she’s more alluring than she could ever be, how she moans despite the blockage in her throat. Everything about her is so sexy that the sound of her choking up spit makes you throb.

This is the wrong time to have a conscience. You’ve already split her apart. You’ve already got your fingers in her hair that pull hard to the point that damage is highly likely. You’ve already—

—got Minju screaming, biting down on your skin as her legs spread. What a strange thing to have as a natural reflex. That’s all she knows to do: spread her legs, hope her innocent face attracts a guy into her home and his dick into her pussy. Her skin, white as snow, has become impure with red blemishes. You see her purple-bruised neck flex when she yells into your hand.

“Daddy! Daddy!” Minju yells. Her fingernails leave fine scratches on the wall. “Fuck, I’m squirting so much I don’t know what to do—oh fuck!”

You bump the manic girl up on your knee before spreading her legs. A godless squirt of her juices hits Wonyoung’s face, the savior being the glass protecting the picture. Others bless their homes with water blessed by esteemed priests; you like to stand out. Choose to have Minju’s unholy juice flood the photo you once held dear.

Did something possess you? An evil spirit, a god of fertility? All are clichés but you can’t help but think so when you notice how fast you’re pumping Minju. It’s like greed’s finally reigned you. It’s difficult to resist. Minju just wrings your cock perfectly dry with her tight cunt, keeps you speedy with her desperate moans. You’re vandalizing her with your climax and she doesn’t want to be clean ever again.

“You think you’re special, Minju?” You press her to the ruined picture. Her side profile mashes on the glass. “You’re nothing, only a useless hole, just like that bitch. Now clean it up.”

Her eyes light up in shock. Excitement? “What?”

You pull her head back in order to have her full lips pressed against Wonyoung’s face. The clear squirt is still dripping from it. Minju’s face is red, and although your cock left her moments ago, she insists on tensing like it’s there. Is that how she lives? Her way of bonding is riding on the high she got the night before and the night before that. She always has sex in her mind that thoughts of it occur to her as they would to an animal.

That’s right; she’s an animal. Perhaps even a dog would have more self-control than her, ironically.

“Lick your mess,” you command. “Now.”

Minju whimpers. You bury your fingernails in her scalp until she loses her fake hesitance. Her tongue glides on Wonyoung’s face and relieves her of the mess. Her lips part and close, taking in her own taste.

She looks like she’s making out with your wife. Her pretty face smudges the other pretty face in the picture and it’s so much hotter than it’s got the permit to be. Wonder how it’ll look if she’s actually kissing the real Wonyoung—picture them with their legs locked together and tongues coming out to play—and you’re hard enough for another round.

“That’s right. You want to be Wonyoung so bad? You want to be the one I drive into the bed everyday? So fucking make out with her.”

“Y-yes, daddy. Oh.” Minju’s moans fog the glass. “I taste delicious.”

It’s probably a hygienically reprehensible thing to do. But her mouth is dirtier than the picture anyway. You force her lips deeper into it until you pull her away, satisfied.

Not quite.

Rub her clit a few more times. Hose her squirt all over the floor. You’ll have a mess to clean up. Oh, there’s all the evidence: her squirt on the floor, her lipstick in the shape of a languid kiss on the picture frame, the mess she made in the dining table where you ate her rather than your food.

But it’s all worth it. An evil idea plants and sprouts in your mind. “Bedroom.”

Minju pants. Her hands are flat on the wall. She turns to you, saliva and lipstick smeared on her chin, and asks, “W-which one?”

“You know exactly where.”

Her wide eyes tell you wordlessly that she got the point. She’s well aware of what room you want to use her body next. It’s not even supposed to be a question given the ways and moments you fucked her there.

“But daddy—if, if she hears us?”

You grin. “Then you’ll have to be pretty fucking quiet.”

The best thing about Minju besides her body is her passiveness. She may act up sometimes but she still needs your cock, and she’ll do anything to get it. So when she hangs her head to hide her smile, you spank her. It speeds her steps to the staircase. Continue doing so all the way.

It’s funny how she struggles to even lift a foot. Streams of your cum and hers slide down her legs, staining the carpet. You’ll have to wash that out, too. If you have the maid do it, she’s likely to put two and two together.

Even from the back, Minju’s body is beautiful. Her reddened ass twists from side to side and brings attention to her wide hips. The deep line on her spine is a path you trace your fingertips on. She quivers.

“Daddy,” she whines.

Hit her butt. Let it fill your palm. “Keep on walking.”

It’s borderline dehumanizing. You’re treating her with a ferociousness a woman like her should never have to go through. The eyes of the painted men and women on your walls lock on her. It’s like their hard stares are real. Minju bears the blows to her cheeks during her walk of humiliation up the stairs. Tiny yelps are caused by each one. It’s in her to be quiet now that Wonyoung is quite near, although not as close as she is to another heavy orgasm.

You slap her pussy, making her shake, then lead the juices mingling in it up to her asshole. She chews on the inside of her cheek to hide her moan. She reaches the last step with a huge sigh of relief.

The finality of the torture doesn’t last long. Fuck, it doesn’t even exist. You collect the semen and wetness from her legs, then drag it right back to her pussy.

You shove your fingers deep in her cave. There. Now your cum stays inside her. After that, it’ll drip all the way to her womb. She screams through pursed lips.

Push her hard against your bedroom door. Her stomach’s flatness goes up to the point that it’s the only thing engendered into the wood. Minju’s tiny gasp is already loud for you. Her beautiful side profile is mashed deep into the solid barrier between the two women.

Minju whimpers. Is she scared or heavily turned on? The thing with her is she likes both. So, yeah—she’s wet at the thought of being caught with you, being fucked within a distance of your wife wherein she could finally pin down your infidelity.

The little angel closes her eyes when your words hover near her prone ear. “Shut up,” you warn, “unless you want to lose your career. Or this dick.”

You slip your shaft between Minju’s shapely thighs. A friction is nurtured and grown into rough, pant-accompanied humping that leaves both of you breathless. Her pussy lips splay warmly on you and you’re allowed to rub yourself on her clit.

Minju tenses up. Her breaths are kept to a hummed volume yet their huskiness gets you to fuck her legs faster. The core between them is so warm and you haven’t even welcomed yourself in it again.

You carefully open the door. You don’t know what you’re expecting: Wonyoung crying with her face in her knees? An anger you never knew she could have? But what shows calms you. There’s your wife who remains asleep on the bed. From the soft snores, it’s easy to tell she’s deep in a dream.

“Wonyoung’s so pretty, daddy,” whispers Minju. You push her to the footboard where she holds on tight. “Do you think she’ll want to join if she wakes up? Or she’ll leave you for me?”

“Are you sure you want to act like that?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “Depends on what you’re gonna do to me.”

Everything. You’re planning on doing everything to her.

Push her to the small pole of the wood. You’re forced to shove your fingers in her mouth again to keep her from yelling. The contact it makes to her clit is already overwhelming. But she’s all for overwhelming—she wants the kind of sex that leaves her beaten and bruised, the kind that leaves her sore and not knowing if she should tell you to keep going or halt.

You know what she’d choose.

Minju grinds on the pole. She’s dancing her hips again. Somehow, things of the past don’t leave her. Her idol days still leave an impact on her. The guy she made cheat on his wife a long time ago returned to her life to cheat again.

No, you’ve never been one for sentimentality, but things have somehow stayed the same. The slut that is Minju today was a slut all those years ago, too.

Grab her hips and force her to hump the ball of the pole. She soaks it instantly. Minju is corrupted to no hope of return. There’s your cum, leaking from her pussy and to the bedsheets. Her juices wet the pole and increase the creaking noises that would wake Wonyoung up if not for whatever dream she’s having.

“Oh, daddy! Oh, daaaddy—” she stammers, words bitten and broken in the major need to be quiet. “Just… fuck me. Please?”

“As long as you—”

“Be a good quiet girl, yes. I’ll do anything, daddy. Anything for this cock.”

She kneels down. Her tender mouth seals around your left testicle. You nearly shout right there and then. Minju’s running her lips on the underside of your swelling dick. She feels so good, and she is so good. She has all the tips and tricks to keep you hard memorized, if her brain wasn’t too full of other dirty thoughts.

The rasp in your throat materializes and makes her squirm her legs together. She puckers her lips then slips your cock through their joined entrance. Her almond eyes look wider tonight. Your tip pokes the back of her throat. She lets it rub there for now. You find pleasure in the texture that makes you leak. No, you can’t cum. Not yet.

Take a last look at Wonyoung before diving your rod to the depths of Minju’s throat.

It’s funny that the girl still has a gag reflex. Sucking dick is second nature to her. So is getting throatfucked. The walls of her oral hole flex to keep you in. She makes sharp inhalations only to take in the musky scent you thrust on her. In her?

Choking comes after. The orifice grows tighter which makes you fuck it harder. Saliva’s slick liquid state sheens your erection. Minju’s lost her breath a long time ago but she’s lost more than that now. The regular beat of her heart is gone. You can’t search her face for any color other than the palest white.

“You have to stop gagging, Minju,” you say. Don’t help her though; keep ruining that throat. “Maybe you really do wanna get caught. Makes you really wet, doesn’t it?”

She nods. Your hard tip bobs in her mouth as she does. Her pretty eyes, with their long lashes and big pupils that always seem to gleam with innocence, fill with watery tears.

“How cute.” You’re surprised that her hair is intact to her scalp after you pull it back. “But I make the rules around here. And I need you to seal that mouth shut and use it for good.”

There’s a possibility that, like Minju, you’re a dancer as well. But the upward grind of your body has no grace in it. It’s a rough, punked up beat that renders the girl humming and screaming. This roughness is nowhere close to natural.

You dip your cock in her just to see how far you could go, how far is needed to keep her quiet. Feed her more than she could suck. Every sensitive spot of yours is on fire thanks to Minju’s dutiful tongue and hard sucking. Your sack slaps her chin so hard it’s surprising it doesn’t hurt.

But, like you iterated, Minju isn’t normal. She takes the pain for pleasure and doesn’t give a damn if she gets wounded because of it.

The tears finally fall from her eyes.

The lines blur. Who is she—the woman asleep on your bed or the woman you fucked to be disloyal to her? Minju’s beautiful; so is Wonyoung. Jang Wonyoung is beautiful but there’s a category of beauty wherein the girl you’re destroying right now falls in. That’s the section for women who look pretty when they cry, who’ve accepted they’re as fucked up as whoever finds them and takes them in for who they are.

Your wife is pretty. You guess. But Minju is a beauty who lets you do everything to her, and that makes her a little bit more important.

Defile, defile, defile. Wonyoung wouldn’t let you get cum in her hair—(”I have a photoshoot, babe, you can’t!”). Semen sticks to Minju’s locks right now. Wonyoung wouldn’t let you be this rough with her—(“And what if they see? I shouldn’t look dirty to the fans.”) Minju is sitting there taking it like she’s just a cum dump. Wonyoung wouldn’t let you tear off her clothes because “they’re couture so it’s not really mine.” The coat Minju wore coming here lies discarded on the first floor.

Wonyoung doesn’t let anyone defile her. It’s her most fatal flaw. It’s the flaw that makes her husband see all the tiny imperfections she doesn’t allow the camera to see and chase highs in another woman’s throat.

So when Minju cries, gags, chokes—you realize it’s all so simple.

Slip out of her. The delusions clouding your head make you steal a look at the bed. Oh, now it’s unbelievable. Wonyoung is still asleep.

Not that it’s any inconvenience to you.

You prop Minju up to the vanity table. The counter carries the heave of her small chest. She can barely lift her head up. It makes her carry a look of humiliation that’s not at all true. She’s the most shameless woman you’ve ever met.

“Daddy… daddy…”

Twist her chin so she can look at herself in the mirror. Her body is amazing despite the handprints and bruises peppered on her stomach, butt, and neck. She flusters but your finger presses on her lips before she can look away.

“Not a single sound,” you remind her.

She nods. Good girl.

Minju’s a capable girl. Well, mostly. She offers those amazing dicksucking lips, shapely curves, and sometimes, her ass for ruining its own tightness. But nothing beats the feeling of her cunt. It’s all the right things: wet, tight, and perfectly quivering as they wrap around your shaft.

Minju closes her eyes. Bites down on her lip. She fights to be true to her promise of silence. Being a good girl and bad girl simultaneously is one of her versatile traits. The table creaks louder than expected. You would’ve shot another look at your spouse again, but Minju’s pretty face is in the way. Her cheeks are scarlet and her brows bead with sweat. She really is a beauty.

Your strokes are ceaseless. The thing that shocks you the least is the fact that her legs look as if they spread wider and wider. She splits while you split her apart. Place a hand on her tummy to muffle the sounds of skin colliding and wood creaking, and reach a better end: your cock is hitting her guts, making a bobbing print on her flat stomach.

“Look how deep I am, Minju.” You grin wickedly at her reflection. “You call me daddy anywhere, don’t you? How about I become a real one?”

Minju bounces herself on you. That’s a yes. A definite, enthusiastic yes.

Your penetration is rougher, gliding on places she can’t even imagine. If you cum right now, and this far in, you’ll live up to your name of “daddy.” Minju isn’t the only one who has to keep promises.

Corner a pulse point on her neck. Her core squeezes and although its resistance is tough, your pumps are more so.

“You’ll be my secret good girl. Daddy’s gonna put a fucking baby in your stomach, and no one has to know it’s mine. No one has to know you’re mine.”

Minju pouts, not out of sadness but of the orgasm that’s creeping from her feet to her center. It’s so close she could reach for it, taste it like a strong wind. You allow the tiny breaths and pants that leave her to be exemptions from your bedroom law.

“Wonyoung would be so happy for you.” You lick the sensitive spot behind her ear. “‘That’s so great, unnie! Come on, tell us who’s the lucky guy.’ And you’ll have to stop yourself from telling her that I did it. Can you do that?”

Minju emphasizes each repetition with a responding throb and push of her cunt. “Yes, yes, yes—”

Allow that, too. Burst inside Minju. Flood her insides with cum that shall infiltrate her fertile womb. Soon, that tummy would be round rather than flat. It’ll be your baby.

Minju got what she wanted in the end.

The next day, Wonyoung will wake up crying.

It’ll happen early in the morning, when the moon is still up and sheets still wrap your exhausted form. But she’s sobbing so loud that it’ll rouse you.

“What’s wrong?” you’ll say.

She’ll tell you about a dream she had. Wonyoung’s going to narrate a complex dream of Minju, her beloved former member and best friend, seducing you. It happened right in the house and in front of her. You dared to do it to her while she was sleeping and thought she didn’t know.

And you?

You’ll take her in your arms, kiss the inside of her trembling wrist, and say, “Oh, honey—it’s okay. I’m here, baby. I’m here. I’m here.”

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