#also i’m a bit drunk and it’s getting late here so i’m going to have to wake up tomorrow morning and reprocess this sober
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ᡣ𐭩 HE'S THE SERPENTINE, HE'S MY COLLAR!
FEATURING: dazai osamu
SUMMARY: you're finally back in yokohama after spending three years abroad dealing with mori's foreign business. the last person you want is to see dazai osamu, the wounds of his abrupt betrayal still too fresh for comfort. unfortunately, he decides to take matters into his own hands by showing up at your office in the middle of the night.
(wordcount: 7.1k; ņsfw; fem!reader; port mafia executive!reader, f!receiving oral, gunplay, knife play (ish), spitting, pussy drunk!dazai (as always), light choking, overstim, office sex, semi-public/public sex, unprotected sex, switch!dazai, switch!reader, undertones of angst (happy ending). lmk if anything is missing!)
AUTHOR'S NOTES: guys. GUYS. i had so much fun writing this, this is finally usurping in paper rings and picture frames as my fav fic that i've written. HAHAHH. i hope you guys like it too!!
You hear the door to your office swing open, and you press your lips together tightly, irritation swimming through your head as your grip tightens on the pen you’re using to fill out your paperwork. It’s already late—you’re tired and your head hurts, but you can’t leave the building until Akutagawa comes to hand you the report for his failed mission so you can pass it up to the boss. And you know that whichever subordinate this is, it’s definitely not Akutagawa because the boy would rather claw his own throat out than walk into your office without knocking.
Which means it’s some upstart new recruit who has no manners and is likely going to make your night worse. You think being away for so long did some real damage to your reputation—three years ago, the lower ranked mafiosos avoided your floor like the plague, they didn’t barge in like they owned the place, but then again, you also had a certain dark-haired executive (ex-executive now, you remind yourself bitterly) lurking around your floor constantly trying to get your attention, and if people weren’t nervous enough about you, they were definitely terrified of him.
“Five seconds to explain why you came into my office without knocking or I’m putting a bullet through your fucking skull,” you say, voice acerbic, not even bothering to look up, the fingers of your free hand closing around the gun you have holstered at your side.
“There’s a few too many cameras in the hall for my liking to stand out there and wait for you to open the door.”
The fact that he manages to dodge the bullet shot in his direction is testament to his skill, but you’ve known Dazai Osamu long enough to know that when he dodges to the side, nine times out of ten, he dodges left, so you drop your pen as soon as you pull the trigger and swipe the knife laying haphazardly on your desk, launching it in his direction. You watch as his eyes widen just a bit when it impales the wall right next to his ear, just barely nicking his skin—both a warning and a threat.
“My, my, bella, you’ve gotten faster the past few years,” Dazai grins, unperturbed, smile as reckless and lazy as the day he left four years ago as he plucks the knife from the wall. “I’ve missed you too.”
“What the hell are you doing here, Dazai?” you ask, voice cold and sharp as your finger rests against the trigger of your gun. “How did you get up here?”
“Security’s gotten lax since I’ve been gone, I guess,” Dazai shrugs, but his eyes dance with mirth as he makes his way over to your desk. “You should probably do something about that.”
“Dazai,” you say, keeping your voice low and trying to reign in your temper. There are no cameras in your office, but the hall leading here is littered with them, hidden ones that were recently installed that he wouldn’t know about, if any one of them caught his face and it’s reported to Mori… “You think I won’t drag your ass to Mori myself? What the fuck are you doing?”
You’d have to, or it would be your head on the line for betraying the Port Mafia—you know better than anyone the treatment that traitors get, considering you were the one that dealt with them up until you were sent abroad three years ago to handle Mori’s foreign politics.
“I don’t know, will you?” Dazai counters, head tilted to the side as he takes a seat on top of your desk next to you, a smile on his face that makes you think he knows something that you don’t.
“Maybe,” you answer, finger twitching on the trigger as you keep your gun pointed in his direction.
Dazai is completely unbothered, leaning down until his nose is nearly brushing yours, lips tugged up in an unbearable smirk.
“Then do it,” he challenges, and you glare at him, jaw tight and eyes hard. He reaches out, fingertips brushing your skin, and you feel like you’re on fire beneath his touch. You hate that your body still betrays you to him. “Don’t look at me like that, bella. I won’t even resist, I promise, as long as you promise to be the one to put a bullet through my skull, so your face can be the last thing I see. Ah, that would be a lovely death, wouldn’t it?”
“You’re a fucking freak, Dazai,” you spit out, but make no move to get up or grab your phone. “What is wrong with you?”
Dazai doesn’t respond, only winking at you. Instead, his gaze shifts to the side and his hand drops from your face to his lap again. You hate even more that you miss his touch immediately.
“You still have my couch,” Dazai notes to himself quietly, an odd tone to his voice as he stares at the dark couch in the far corner of your office, where he’d bundle himself up under blankets to avoid Chuuya, because Chuuya used to avoid your office like the plague when the three of you were younger.
“It’s my couch,” you say tightly, even though you know no one has touched it since Dazai left, and the ugly orange blanket he liked so much is still draped over the back of it, and it probably still smells like him. Your throat feels swollen, and you steel away your emotions and continue with, “I’ve hardly been back here since you left, anyway. What do you want, Dazai?”
“I heard you were finally back in Yokohama,” he says. “I wanted to see you.”
“Fuck off,” you say roughly. “So you decide to break into the main base of the Port Mafia and come all the way up to my office? You know where my apartment is, you could’ve shown up there. What do you really want?”
“It’s the truth,” Dazai says easily, and his dark eyes meet yours—both of them, you note, and wonder when he decided to shed the bandages that covered his right eye. “I was at your apartment for a bit, I got impatient and came here instead.”
He’s telling the truth.
Oh, you realize—the clogged feeling in your throat is coming back, you force it away again and lean back in your chair, looking away from him to turn your gaze to the window. It’s well past midnight already, the moon is high in the sky and the stars are glittering above. In the distance, you can see the Ferris Wheel of Cosmo World glowing a bright purple color and a string of flashing red and blue lights as the police chase after someone.
“Why?” you ask finally, breaking the heavy silence that had settled over the two of you.
“I told you,” Dazai says quietly, and your eyes turn back to him. He looks… happier, you can’t help but note. A sick part of you feels jealous—you’re not sure if you’re jealous because he’s free and you’re still stuck in this place, or if you’re jealous because he’s happier and he’s happier in a life without you. You think it might be the latter. “I miss you.”
“Don’t give me bullshit, Dazai,” you snap, still trying to push away all of the feelings you’ve repressed for so long. “Get out of here before you find yourself killed. I’m not going to turn you in, but I’m not saving you if you get caught.”
“It’s not bullshit,” Dazai tells you, voice sharp in a way that it only ever is when he’s starting to get annoyed. “I-”
A knock at your door cuts Dazai off mid-sentence. Both of you freeze, Dazai looks at you as if waiting to see what you’re going to do, and you can so easily finish this now, let whoever is at your door in and drag Dazai back down to the torture room where he belongs, but instead you find yourself reaching for him. Your hand intertwines with his hair roughly, and you revel a bit in the hiss that escapes his lips as you yank him off the desk and roll your chair backward, kicking the back of his knee so that he crumples to the ground and you can push him beneath your desk.
You lower your gun to your lap so you can keep it pointed at him and then glance down at him—he looks caught off-guard and disgruntled at being manhandled, but you think it's a bit funny how cramped he looks under there.
“Not a single word,” you warn before fixing your chair and raising your voice. “Come in.”
Akutagawa wastes no time stepping into your office, nodding his head in respect as he makes his way over to the chair on the opposite side of your desk, a bundle of papers in hand. He doesn’t hand you the pile right away and he looks uncharacteristically nervous, and you raise your eyebrows, wondering what the issue is.
“I am… unsure how to fill out some of the report,” Akutagawa says, unable to meet your eyes as he stares at the windows behind you. “The operation was… not a failure but not a success. The whole mission was in disarray, I do not know who was doing what at certain points.”
You stare at Akutagawa. “What do you want me to say to that?” you ask him, leaning back in your chair. “It’s your job to know that as the field officer for the mission. If you can’t handle that, Hirotsu will take back the position on the next major operation.”
Akutagawa bristles. “I can handle it,” he says, voice clipped. “This mission was just more chaotic than-”
“Than usual?” you ask idly, watching as he stiffens as your interruption. “This was child’s play, it’s unlike you to make excuses, Akutagawa.’
“I’m not making excuses,” he says immediately, “but…”
Akutagawa continues talking, but your attention is ripped away when you feel Dazai shift beneath the desk. You press your lips together tightly, stiffening as his hands rise to your thighs, spreading them a bit so he can settle between them. You glance down, he’s already peeking up at you, dark eyes glittering in a way that has you on edge.
Don’t you dare, you warn silently, but Dazai only takes it as further encouragement, pressing his lips to your clothed inner thigh, you can feel the warmth and wetness through your slacks. It takes all of your self-control to not inhale sharply when he starts trailing open-mouthed kisses up your thigh until his mouth is hovering right above your cunt.
You press the muzzle of your gun against his temple.
He smiles.
Your jaw clenches as he licks a long stripe between your legs through your slacks, making sure to press his tongue down hard over where your clit is hidden through your clothes. Akutagawa is still talking, oblivious to what’s happening beneath your desk as he airs his complaints about the mission. You could stop Dazai, place your foot on his shoulder and push him off of you, but you don’t, notably—you don’t want to acknowledge that though. You only vaguely hear Akutagawa’s issues, something about interference from a third party—the SDUP? What the hell were they doing there?— and Kajii blowing up an escape route.
“Give me the report,” you say, cutting him off mid-sentence, and holding out your hand. You’re grateful that your voice comes out steadier than you feel with Dazai trying to tongue fuck your through your pants.
As you lean forward to rip the papers from Akutagawa, you tense, feeling something sharp press against your inner thigh. Sitting back in your seat and glancing down, your eyes cut down to Dazai, who still has the knife you’d thrown at him and is using it to cut open your very expensive slacks.
You have half a mind to drive your foot into his face, but you refrain. If only barely.
It’s a miracle that you can keep your breath steady, because as Dazai cuts your pants, he kisses every inch of open skin that’s revealed to him. His lips are warm, wet, familiar—so familiar that your legs are instinctively spreading for him, giving him more room to work.
Your eyes scan the report but the words are just jumbled letters and not making any sense. Every time you try to understand, you feel Dazai’s teeth graze your thigh as he marks up your skin. You tense when you feel him bring the knife much closer to your cunt, to finish cutting off the material—you press the muzzle of your gun harder into the side of his head, warning him to be careful. You glance down only to see a hazy smile on his lips as he winks up at you, as if he’s drunk just off of the idea of what’s about to happen.
He works efficiently as always, freeing your lower body of your slacks and panties as quickly as possible, and he wastes no time burying his face between your legs. Your lashes flutter and the grip you have on your pen tightens dangerously, you think it might snap. Dazai’s tongue slides between your folds, lapping up the slick that had begun to pool—you know that if Akutagawa wasn’t sitting a few feet away, Dazai would be making a snide comment about how he knew you wanted him.
Dazai’s tongue flicks over your clit—you can feel him staring up at you, watching for every little reaction, the way your lip tightens as you bite back moans, the way your eyelids unconsciously start to slide shut, the way your breath is just a bit heavier than it usually is.
This is so dangerous, you think to yourself desperately. If Akutagawa of all people figures out that Dazai is here-
You nearly choke when Dazai shifts a bit underneath the desk to kneel at a better angle, grateful that Akutagawa seems to be too busy wallowing in his own mistakes to notice your struggle. Your gaze snaps down again, his eyes have fluttered shut as he buries his face deep into your cunt, nose pressed to your clit as he pushes his tongue into your hole and you can feel the way he lets out a silent, but shaky breath, barely holding back a moan.
You notice his free hand slide from where it was propped on your thigh down to his beige pants, fingers fumbling with the button as he desperately tries to slip his hand beneath his waistband to touch himself. You kick his wrist hard, using your foot to pin it against the side of your desk, watching him wince and withdraw his hand, looking up at you with those big brown eyes you can never say no to.
God, he’s pathetic, his lashes are wet and his cheeks are flushed, eyes glossed over with pleasure as he looks up at you and you know you’ll let go of his wrist if he looks at you like that any longer, so you turn your gaze back up to Akutagawa, who’s staring at his lap and waiting for you to finish the report.
“Get out,” you tell him, voice sharper than you intended. Akutagawa’s eyes snap up to you, brows furrowed in confusion. “Go, I’ll handle this.”
“But-”
“Your job is to take orders, not question them,” you bite out, watching frustration flash across the boy’s face as he rises to his feet. You’re not usually this harsh with the kid, but you’re not sure how much longer you’re going to last and Akutagawa cannot be in here when you cum. You can feel the heat pooling in your stomach and that familiar hazy feeling clouding your mind. “Out, Akutagawa.”
Akutagawa inhales sharply but nods, turning stiffly on his heel to leave your office. As soon as the door to your office clicks shut, Dazai is pushing the chair backwards until the back of it hits the windows behind you, shifting into a more comfortable position as he resumes fucking you with his tongue in earnest.
He moans into you, wanton and shameless, any restraint he had because of Akutagawa’s presence is long gone. While he was careful to not make noise before, now the sloppy sound of his tongue dragging in and out of your cunt drowns out any other noise in your office, he sucks and slurps, he’s so disgusting, like he can’t get enough of the taste of you, a man who’s been starved for years.
The knife clatters to the ground as he reaches up with both hands to grab your thighs, sliding them over his shoulders so he can push his tongue even deeper inside of you. Only sheer pride drives you to push away the creeping fog as Dazai’s tongue slides back up between your folds to draw figure eights around your clit.
“I should pull the fucking trigger, pulling this shit when he was in here,” you spit out, head falling back as a breathy noise escapes your parted lips when Dazai sucks gently at your clit. He moans again, as if the idea itself turns him on—it probably does, he’s always talked about wanting to die between your thighs. “You’re a fucking freak, Dazai.”
He lets out a puff of air, you can’t tell if it's a laugh or another moan, maybe a mixture of both, but he’s too focused on drowning in your cunt to respond. Four years without him and you’ve forgotten just how good Dazai is with his tongue, working your body as easily as he did when the two of you were eighteen and seeking each other out before meetings and between missions for a quick fuck. You hate it—you hate that he’s treating you as if nothing has changed and you hate even more that your body is this responsive to him.
Betrayal, you think, your own body betrays you for him. Again.
“Fuck,” you gasp the word out when Dazai rolls your clit between his teeth gently, sending a jolt through your body that throws you off just enough for that fog you’ve been fighting off to finally win. You choke over a moan, head pressed back against your desk chair, forearm coming up to press against your forehead as your eyes slide shut. Your free hand finally finds its place in his hair, tightening around his dark locks, he lets out a whimper against you, tongue flicking over your clit. “Like that. Just like that.”
You can hardly keep your head on straight as he traces letters around the sensitive bud, you try to figure out what he’s spelling but you’re too far gone. Your head is light and your chest is heaving. You’re barely able to bite back moans as your thighs tighten around his head, hips rocking against his face. You don’t even know if he can breathe, you don’t think you care, so close to the edge that your entire body is tingling and trembling; you don’t think he cares either from the way he’s moaning into you.
It takes one last suck, one last swirl around your clit, and you’re crying out his name, spots dotting your vision as your grip on his hair tightens, pushing his face impossibly deeper into you as you grind your hips against his face. God, it feels never-ending, a noise too close to a sob nearly escapes your lips as Dazai ardently laps up all of your cum, not letting a single drop go to waste. You can’t remember the last time you’ve cum this hard—with him, probably, you realize bitterly. None of the one-night stands you’ve had over the past few years have ever compared to him.
You’re still reeling even as you force yourself to straighten in your seat, not willing to let him know just how badly you’re thrown off by how intense your orgasm was. Your head is still spinning, vision still blurring, but you lift your leg and press your foot to Dazai’s shoulder, kicking him back and forcing him out from his position between your thighs.
He grunts, looking thoroughly disgruntled as he falls back on his ass, pouting up at you as he tries to catch his breath. He looks debauched, lips swollen and wet, your cum smeared on the lower half of his face. His cock is straining against his beige pants and his eyes are still glazed over; he’s looking up at you with an expression that’s nothing short of reverent.
God, he’s gorgeous.
You hate him.
You’ve missed him.
You shift in your seat and Dazai is lifting himself to his knees, immediately leaning closer, a hazy smile on his lips as he angles his face up and pointedly parts his lips, sticking his tongue out. You know what he wants and the heat that had been slowly dissipating returns with a vengeance, breath catching as you look down at him.
“You’re gross,” you tell him, watching the corner of his lips quirk up even as he keeps his tongue out and waiting.
You don’t deny him. You never can.
You shift forward, rising to your feet and reaching out to grab his chin, angling your face down. Your grip is too tight, it’ll leave bruises behind and you think that’s the least he deserves so you only tighten it a bit more as you lean over him. You don’t give him what he wants, not right away, letting the saliva gather on your tongue as you observe him, the way his pupils are blown wide and his chest is hardly rising and falling, as if he can’t even let himself breathe in anticipation.
Disgusting, you think again, but it’s fond this time, much to your displeasure.
You decide to put him out of his misery, letting the spit dribble from your mouth down to his. His eyes roll back as soon as it hits his tongue, and your hand slides from his chin to curl around his neck—not tight, just firm enough to feel the way his throat bobs as he swallows.
He lets out a shaky breath, eyes fluttering back open as he looks up at you, entirely blissed out. Your hand slides down more, curling around the ugly bolo tie he’s wearing in place of the black one you’re used to. You tug it hard, beckoning him to his feet; he acquiesces, albeit on shaky legs.
Immediately, his hands find your hips as he pushes you against your desk, spinning you around to face it before his hand presses between your shoulder blades, pushing you down to bend you over it. Your eyes widen at the sudden change in demeanor, something you’ll never be able to get used to no matter how many times you fuck him; it always caught you off guard back then, it still catches you off guard now. He pulls off the remnants of your destroyed slacks and immediately is grinding his bulge against your ass, a low moan spilling from his lips.
“How many people have you been with?” he suddenly asks, and you can hear him fumbling to unbutton his own pants. There’s an edge to his voice that you don’t like—something caught between jealousy and possessiveness, and you nearly want to scoff at it.
“What the fuck, Dazai?” you spit out, appalled and not expecting the question. “None of your damn business.”
You turn your head to the side to rest your cheek on the desk, looking back at him from the corner of your eye. His eyes are still a bit hazy but there’s a tight expression on his face, reminiscent of the one that would be directed toward you whenever he stumbled in on you entertaining anyone other than him years ago.
“Humor me,” he says, voice cold and eerily familiar. If you weren’t looking at him and if you couldn’t see the tan coat and bolo tie, you’d think you were talking to Dazai Osamu, Port Mafia Executive, and not Dazai Osamu, Detective.
“A lot,” you finally tell him, feeling the way he stiffens behind you. “I don’t keep count. You?”
You think he has some nerve asking when he’s probably slept around t-
“None.”
“Bullshit,” you snarl immediately. “How many? Don’t fucking lie to me, Dazai.”
“None,” he says again, gaze lifting from your back to meet yours, his eyes are dark—too dark, too still. Maybe he hasn’t changed as much as you assumed, because the way your chest swells with a confusing mixture of fear and arousal is far too familiar. “You’re the only one allowed to touch me.”
His gaze drags back down, with his pants unbuttoned, he lifts his free hand to caress the swell of your ass, a contemplative expression on his face as he stares down at you, his other hand still pinning you down to your desk. If your heart wasn’t thudding in your ears from sheer anticipation, you’d be irate over the fact that you were letting Dazai Osamu fuck you over your own desk in your own office, but you can’t bring yourself to care now.
“They never made you feel like this.” It’s a statement, not a question, and you want to scoff at his arrogance, but you can’t because he’s right. “They don’t know your body like I do.”
This time you do scoff. “You don’t know shit, Dazai. It’s been four years.”
Dazai’s eyes flicker back up to you, the way his lips curve up into a smile is dangerous.
“No?” he questions.
A challenge. You never back down from one, not from him.
“No.”
His smile sharpens.
“I know that after you cum for the first time,” he murmurs, rolling his hips forward. You bite back a moan when you feel the tip of his cock slip between your folds. “The second time comes right after.”
True to his words, your jaw falls slack and your entire body seizes as Dazai thrusts into you, splitting you right open on his cock. The moan he lets out is pornographic, and you wish you could see the way his head falls back and his eyes roll into his skull, but your own vision is white and you’re choking over a sob as you feel the familiar stretch of his cock against your walls.
“There you are.” Dazai has the nerve to let out a breathless laugh and another groan as he stills with his hips flush to your ass, feeling your walls spasm around him as you cum just from the feeling of him pushing inside of you. The hand he has placed between your shoulder blades slides up to curl around your throat. With a firm grip, he pulls you up so only your thighs are pressed against the edge of your desk, back flush to his chest as you gasp, reeling from the suddenness of your second orgasm. You can feel him smile as he nudges his nose against the side of your head, lips pressed to your ear. “The third time takes a bit after the second, but I’ll fuck you through it. Maybe a fourth too.”
“Dazai,” you gasp, eyes blown wide as your head falls back against his shoulder. You don’t know what you’re trying to say, maybe hold on, or wait, because you know you’ll embarrass yourself if he doesn’t give you a second to recover.
He hums in response, and the slow rolls of his hips, the drag of his cock against your walls, it has your head in the clouds, body trembling. Your lips part to speak but no words leave them, and right when you think you can finally force the words out, Dazai draws his hips back and snaps them back against yours hard. Your lips part in a silent moan, only the hand around your throat and the one pressed to your lower belly holds you up as Dazai fucks you at a brutal pace.
His face drops to the crook of your neck, he moans into your skin, teeth scraping hard as he kisses recklessly up and down every available inch. He’s going to leave marks, you realize, and that’s dangerous now that you’re back in Yokohama because you don’t need any of the other executives to get suspicious, but even if you wanted to tell him not to, you don’t think you’d be able to. Whatever little coherency you had left in your thought process does not translate when you try to speak, the only things leaving your lips being shaky moans and gasps of Dazai’s name.
“Made for me,” Dazai groans. His grip on your throat tightens just enough to make the air you breathe in shallow, your head feels light and you’re not sure if it’s because of his grip or if it’s the feeling of his cock bullying so deep into you that you can feel his tip pressing up against your cervix. “Waited so many years for this, feels even better than I remember, pussy’s made for me, isn’t it?”
Dazai babbles into your ear as he fucks you, tongue just as filthy and unbridled as the day he left. Shameless. He’s so shameless. Doesn’t even care that anyone could walk into your office and catch the two of you; doesn’t care that if anyone does, he’ll end up executed. He’s fucking you in a building full of people that want him dead and all he cares about is how your cunt feels wrapped around his cock.
Your breath hitches as Dazai shifts you to bend over just a little more, still keeping your back flush to his chest but fucking you at a new angle—one that nearly sends you spiraling over the edge for a third time.
“Gonna give me your third now?” he pants. His hand on your lower stomach slips down, lithe fingers dipping between your folds to search for your clit—your back arches against him when he finds it, a sob spilling from your lips, vision swimming with tears. Dazai laughs again, this one is strained, catching over a moan as your walls convulse around him. “Oh, fuck. Fuck, you’re so tight.”
Unconsciously, his grip on your throat tightens, cutting off even more air. You can hardly breathe, you can hardly think—each thrust of his hips has your head spinning, ripping the little air you can inhale right out of your lungs. The tip of his cock rubs against that spongy spot inside of you every time he snaps his hips against yours, the quick circles he rubs on your clit are electrifying.
Your cheeks are wet, breath ragged, vision spotty. One last thrust, one last circle, and you’re wrecked, sobbing out his name as your legs give out, only held up by the way he has your thighs pinned to your desk and his hand on your neck. You cum all over his cock so hard that you think you black out for a second, your mind fuzzy and pins and needles pricking all over your body.
Dazai doesn’t stop. He fucks you through your third orgasm, relishing in the way your body twitches and trembles, too sensitive for his touch.
“Your fourth will come quick,” he gasps. His pace is erratic now, chasing his own release. Your ears are ringing, heartbeat thudding in your ears, the wet, sloppy sound of his cock driving in and out of you resounding through your office. “I don’t think I’ll last for five. Shit, shit, I’m close.”
You have to force yourself to move. You want to see him when he finishes. Your hand wraps around his wrist, nails digging into his skin to try to get his attention. It takes all of your will power to push the two words from your lips: “Flip me.”
He does. Without any sort of hesitation, his hand drops from your throat to your waist. His cock slips out of you for a split second and your cunt aches at the loss, but Dazai is immediately pushing himself back into you as he hoists you up by the thighs, sitting you down on your desk and wrapping your legs around his waist.
Even through your blurry vision, Dazai is a fucking sight. His dark hair is matted to his forehead, pink lips swollen and wet, cheeks flushed. His eyes glazed over and half rolled back as he chases his high. God, he’s stunning. You’ve missed him. You’ve missed him.
You’re not thinking as you lift your hand to cup his cheek, sliding around to the back of his head to pull his face down to yours, moving on pure instinct. You drag him down to press your lips against his and Dazai is gone. The moment your lips touch his, he’s moaning into your mouth, hips stuttering against you as he spills his cum deep inside of you, and he’s right, because the moment you feel his cum filling you up, warm and thick, so much of it that you can feel it dribbling around his cock, the stickiness smearing against your thighs and ruining your desk, you’re pushed over the edge for the fourth time.
This one is weaker than the rest, not a single noise escapes you but your jaw goes slack and Dazai whimpers into your mouth when he feels your walls tightening around him again. But he takes advantage of your pliancy, pushing you back gently so that your back is flush to your desk. He follows you down, keeping his chest pressed to yours as he maps out your mouth with his tongue. He rolls his hips against yours, slow and deep, fucking his cum deeper into you as the two of you slowly come down from your highs. He slants his lips against yours to deepen the kiss, hand coming up to cup your cheek, his other sliding up and down one of your thighs.
It’s too intimate. You tell yourself that you only let it happen because you’re reeling from overstimulation but you know it's a lie.
You don’t even know how long you stay in that position with him. It could only be a few seconds, a few minutes, it could’ve been an hour for all you know, laying on your desk with him pressed on top of you, kissing you so passionately that it makes your head spin as much as the orgasms did.
Finally, you press your hand against his shoulder, signaling for him to get off of you. He does, albeit with a reluctant sigh. You stare up at the ceiling as Dazai shakily rebuttons his pants, making his way over to the closet where you still keep your spare clothes from when you have to stay over at the office to work.
What did you do?
You’re hyper aware of how swollen your lips are, of the marks littering your neck, of the cum dribbling out of your cunt, staining your desk.
If anyone finds out about this-
You don’t get to finish the thought, because Dazai comes back over to you. Neither of you speak as he takes a tissue to clean up his cum from your thighs and as it dribbles out of you, nor do you speak when he shifts you into a sitting position, helping you pull on a new pair of panties and a new pair of slacks.
He stands in front of you, dozens of indecipherable emotions rocketing across his face as his dark eyes search your expression for something. You don’t know what, and you don’t even want to look at him but you can’t draw your gaze away from him.
After what feels like forever, he finally speaks.
“I missed you,” he says, voice hoarse as he lifts a hand to cup your cheek.
You turn away from his touch, ignoring the hurt that flashes through his eyes.
“Why don’t you believe me? You think four years has changed how I feel about you? I thought you knew me better than that.”
“It’s been four years,” you say, and you hate that your voice wavers a bit. You blame it on still being hazy after your orgasm but you know it’s a weak excuse. You hate that he still has this effect on you after all these years. You hate that you always give into him, and you hate that you know you’ll never get enough of him. You want to hate him, but you can’t. “Knowing how to fuck me isn’t the same as knowing me as a person. I barely know you anymore. You barely know me. And it’s not like you were open with how you felt four years ago. So, forgive me if it’s a bit hard to believe, Dazai.”
“You wear the same perfume. You still shoot with your non-dominant hand for some god forsaken reason. Your lips still twitch whenever you get annoyed even though you do your best to stop it. You-”
“Stop.”
“You still talk to me like you hate me even though your eyes are all soft and you’re leaning in toward me.” Dazai doesn’t stop, and to your horror, he’s right—you had begun to lean in to him instinctively as he spoke. You try to shift away from him, but he follows, fingers grazing your cheek, chest brushing yours. You don’t pull away this time. “I still wear the same cologne you bought me for my sixteenth birthday because it reminds me of you—I spent two months trying to figure out where you bought it when it first ran out. I don’t carry a gun around as often, but when I do, I still try to do that stupid flipping trick you tried to teach me when we were seventeen—I still can’t do it, almost shot myself in the knee last time I tried.”
The laugh he lets out at the last sentence is hollow. He hesitates, as if he wants to continue but isn’t sure if he should. You can feel his blunt nails scraping gently against your skin, his palm warm against your cheek. You want to pull away but you’ve missed him, no matter how much you try to convince yourself otherwise, and you find yourself sinking into his touch. You’ve always questioned why Mori sent you away for so long, angry because you figured he thought you were weak when it comes to Dazai and he didn’t want to risk anything.
Only a few days back in Yokohama, and you’re already proving him right.
“I’m not the same person,” you tell him, something desperate edges at your tone. Desperate to convince him, or yourself, you’re not sure.
“I still love you,” he rasps, voice quiet as if he’s scared to admit it even to himself, and your heart is suddenly lodged in your throat as you stare up at him with wide eyes, the words he refused to tell you back when you were teens ringing through your head over and over again. “I’ve always loved you. Thought about you every day. I missed you so much.”
“I should hate you,” you say, swallowing thickly, unshed tears blurring your vision. “You didn’t even say goodbye. When Mori said you defected in the middle of a mission, I laughed in his face. Not because I didn’t think you’d never betray the Port Mafia, but because I didn’t think you’d ever leave me without saying anything.”
“If I said goodbye to you, I never would have left,” Dazai tells you quietly, the admission echoing in your years. “And I had to leave. I had to.”
“I should hate you,” you repeat, voice a bit weaker now, and you feel pathetic for falling apart like this in front of him. But it’s Dazai, he’s always had this effect over you. You suppose some things haven’t changed, because that certainly hasn’t.
“I know,” he murmurs.
You inhale deeply, shaking your head as you push yourself off your desk and straighten out your clothes, trying to get your head back on straight. You should’ve known better than to think you’d be able to come back to Yokohama and pretend that Dazai Osamu didn’t exist, for better or for worse, the two of you would always find your way back to each other. Mori was right to send you away, although you suppose the man is rarely wrong anyway.
Dazai doesn’t say anything, watching you with an unreadable expression as you search through the ruined piles of paper on your desk for the report that Akutagawa had handed you. Your eye twitches when you realize that it’s stained, realizing that you’re going to have to rewrite the whole thing because you can’t submit a cum-stained report to Mori.
Dazai snorts behind you, as if realizing your predicament. The look you give him is lethal, he silences himself quickly.
“Don’t get yourself killed on the way out,” you tell him, grabbing your black jacket off your chair and swinging it over your shoulders as you look back at him. “If you make it out of here alive, I’ll see you at my apartment later. Then we can talk.”
His face twists. “What? Wait, don’t leave me here,” he panics, nearly tripping over his feet and your desk chair to follow after you. “Help me sneak out.”
“You got in here yourself,” you say dismissively. “Get out yourself.”
The noise he lets out is pathetic. “You do hate me,” he accuses.
“No, I could never,” you admit quietly. His expression softens a bit, but you give him a sharp smile. “But I’m definitely not going to make things easy for you. Akutagawa is still out here prowling around. So is Chuuya, actually. Said he’d be at the office all night today. Good luck, you’re gonna need it.”
#dazai x reader#dazai x you#dazai smut#dazai osamu x reader#dazai osamu smut#dazai osamu x you#bsd x reader#bsd x you#bsd smut#bungo stray dogs x reader#bungo stray dogs smut#bungo stray dogs x you
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a sheep in wolf's clothing — kmg
summary: kim mingyu is the biggest player on campus, so why is he coming to you for sex help
tags: smut (minors dni!), college!au, inexperienced!mingyu, tutor!reader
warnings: explicit protected sex, biting, hair pulling, fingering, attempted oral (f. receiving), mingyu is called puppy, pussy drunk mingyu, subby!mingyu, choking, praise, bondage/restraints, minor overstimulation
wc: 7.2k
an: the build up is kinda long and this is a lot longer than i was expecting it to be…but yay! gyu smut!
It’s early winter when Mingyu approaches you one day after a tutoring session. Finals are coming up soon, and after it will be winter break.
“Mingyu?” You look at him curiously.
Mingyu bows low to you. “Y/N-ah, please help tutor me in sex.”
You stare at him incredulously. What did he just say to you?
You smack him upside the head. “You idiot! You can’t just ask people that.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I just thought, well, you’ve been so nice about tutoring me with my classes that maybe you could help me with this as well.” There’s a guilty look on Mingyu’s face.
“Sex and algebra are not the same thing! You can’t just go around asking people to teach you about sex. It’s weird.”
“I’m sorry!”
“What are you going on about anyway? You’re like the biggest player I know. Girls are always lining up to hop on your dick.”
Your crude choice of words makes Mingyu blush, like he didn’t just ask you to sleep with him. “It’s never…good, when I do it,” he admits in a small voice. “I just thought maybe I could figure out why.”
Kim Mingyu is bad at having sex? That’s hilarious.
The other thing you don’t get though, is why you? You don’t have enough hands to count the number of people you know who have crushes on Mingyu. So why is he asking you to help him with this? You shake your head, it doesn’t matter, you’re not going to say yes.
You guess this may need some kind of context.
Right after midterms Mingyu approached you one day.
“Y/N.” You looked up to see Kim Mingyu standing in front of you.
You don’t really talk to Kim Mingyu. He’s in your seminar class and you know who he is, but you’re not really someone who is on his radar. He’s a frat boy and on the basketball ball team and hangs out with all of the people you try to generally avoid. Not that you don’t like Mingyu, he’s…sweet, just not someone you would go out of your way to spend time with.
“Mingyu?”
“Hi. I have a question. You’re smart right?”
“Is that the question?”
“What? Oh- no, no! I guess that was more of a segue into my actual question.”
“Which is…?”
“Oh right. I’m kind of failing a couple of classes and was wondering if maybe you could help tutor me? I can pay you if needed!”
“What subjects do you need help with?”
“Biology and Algebra. If I don’t pass I don’t graduate and then my dad’s gonna kill me.” Mingyu looks guilty and you sigh. Biology and Algebra are both freshman gen eds, but it’s not uncommon for people to push them back until their later years of college, which Mingyu must have done, and now he's struggling to pass them.
It was…a bit pathetic, if you're being honest, but you also feel a bit bad for the guy. Which is why you find yourself agreeing to help him out.
“I’m here! I’m here!” Mingyu comes rushing up to your table in the library. His face is red from exertion and papers are starting to spill out of his unzipped backpack.
You slide your headphones off your head to cast a glance at Mingyu from the corner of your eye. “You’re ten minutes late.”
“I know, I’m sorry! I promise I have a good reason though!” Mingyu takes a seat across from you.
“I don’t really care to hear it. Let’s just get started, yeah?” You shut the lid to your laptop, putting your own homework to the side. “What are you struggling with?”
“...all of it? I don’t know how to do any of it and both of my teachers hate me!”
You sigh. Mingyu better be paying you good money for this.
You spend the rest of your day with Mingyu in the library. He’s…not as helpless as you thought he would be, in all honesty he’s not dumb, he really just does need the extra help. Maybe new professors as well. The topics are easy for you to pick back up even though it’s been a while since you’ve studied them.
You take your time explaining them to Mingyu in a way that makes sense to him. You sit there with him as he works on his overdue homework, helping him when he needs it. You’re surprised that he can still turn the work in but he then tells you he was able to get an extension on it so he can graduate and stay on the basketball team. Stupid basketball bastard.
It’s going on four hours of sitting in the library when Mingyu starts to get unbearably antsy (he got regular antsy within the first thirty minutes of sitting down). You can tell he’s not going to be able to do much work anymore so you start to pack up your things.
“Wait, we’re not done!”
“I know, but Rome wasn’t built in a day.”
“What does that even mean?”
You huff. “It’s going to take time to work on this. It’s not a one and done kind of thing. We can meet later in the week if you want but you’re not putting out your best work right now so let’s quit for the day, okay?”
“Yeah, okay, I guess you’re right.” Mingyu starts to pack up his things as well. “Thank you for your help so far though, I’m really starting to get it.”
“I’m glad. You’re smart Mingyu, you just need some help, and that’s what I’m here for.” You smile at him and Mingyu smiles at you back.
“No one’s ever called me smart before.”
“No one’s ever believed in you before,” you say with a shrug. Simple as that. You will admit you didn’t have much faith at the start either, but even in just four hours you saw the improvement in him. If only his professors could have just as much faith in him.
That was two months ago. You will say Mingyu’s grades have steadily been improving, enough that he’s not failing anymore and actually understands what’s happening on his tests, so he’s not wrong about you being a good tutor. You just weren’t expecting it to lead to…whatever he’s asking of you now.
Now that you think about it, a lot of your interactions make sense now that you're aware of his…lack of skills in the bedroom.
“So what’s the question you’re looking at?”
Mingyu turns his laptop to you so you can look over the question. You lean in closer to look at it properly before reaching over Mingyu to grab his scrap paper.
“Uh…”
“Yes?” You look at the boy.
“You’re just…really close.”
You roll your eyes and pull back. “Does a woman’s touch scare you Mingyu?”
“No! That’s not what I mean,” he pouts a bit. “I just wasn’t expecting it.”
“I don’t bite Mingyu. You’re the one who asked me to look over the question.”
“I know! I just-, nevermind. Can you just help me with the answer?”
That wasn’t the only instance like that. There was also that time he tried to buy you dinner and you teased him so badly he went home instead. You didn’t think you were actually flustering him. But it seems lately you can’t assume anything from Mingyu.
“Why did your stupid best friend ask me to help him with his stroke game?”
“He WHAT?!” Wonwoo chokes on his lunch as you sit down next to him. You know Wonwoo from some of your honors classes so you’re not sure why Mingyu didn’t ask him to tutor him but you can’t worry about that now.
“I’ve been tutoring him for two months now and he’s now asked me to tutor him on how to be good in bed. Every girl on his campus worships the ground he walks on and are all dying to get in his pants and you’re telling me he can’t even lick a pussy?”
Wonwoo snorts at your words. “Trust me, all of those girls have got him all wrong. That sexy cool guy act is just that, an act. They just want to think he’s like that. He’s actually a giant idiot who thinks he can get anything he wants by whining and using puppy dog eyes.”
“So you’re saying he can’t pleasure a girl because he’s a loser?”
“Basically. Anyone claiming to have hooked up with Mingyu are either too obsessed with the idea of Mingyu himself to admit it was bad, or haven’t even been with him and just want to brag. He’s not the player he wants people to think he is.”
“That doesn’t explain why he’s asking me for help.”
Wonwoo sighs, like he doesn’t want to tell you what he is about to. “You hooked up with one of our friends last semester and he may have bragged a bit about it and ever since the whole friend group now has this idea you’re some…sex deity or something.”
Now it’s your turn to snort at Wonwoo. “Excuse me? Sex deity, yeah right. I guess if we’re talking about DK then it makes sense. Kissing and telling is totally not cool though,” you scoff. “Wait- did Mingyu ask me to tutor him just because he wanted me to teach him how to be good at sex?”
“I do know for a fact that Mingyu is failing his classes, but I cannot confirm or deny if he had ulterior motives for asking you for help. I did tell him I wouldn’t give him help though. I gave up on trying to help him out freshman year.”
“This is crazy,” you mutter.
“So I’m assuming you told him no?” Wonwoo raises an eyebrow at you.
“Unlike some people, I don’t kiss and tell. Whether any ‘kissing’ happens or not.” With that you stand and walk away from Wonwoo.
The true answer is, you haven’t decided. You were so sure when he first asked you that it was going to be a no, but now you’ve hesitated giving him a solid answer for so long that you’re starting to question your own choices.
For one thing, you haven’t been laid since last semester when you hooked up with DK, which was seven months ago. You also like Mingyu. You’re not sure if you have any romantic feelings for him, but you for sure like hanging out with him as a friend, and you do trust him. He’s also, objectively, very attractive. Even if you’ve seen him trip over air before. You’d just be helping out a friend. How is it any different than what you’ve been doing?
It’s also the end of the semester. In reality anything goes wrong you can just ignore him until you graduate. It wouldn’t be that hard. There’s really no harm in just trying…right?
“Y/N.” You’re not expecting to see Mingyu at your apartment doorstep two weeks later. You avoided Mingyu during finals week and you haven’t had a reason to see him since the semester ended.
“Mingyu?”
“I just wanted to come here and apologize for what I said to you. It was completely inappropriate and I never meant to make you uncomfortable. I know you probably don’t want to see me anymore but I just wanted to thank you for helping me this semester. This is for you.” Mingyu holds out a small gift bag to you that you take tentatively.
Mingyu is about to start to walk away but you stop him. “Would you like to come inside?”
Mingyu hesitates, like you’re testing him. Eventually he allows himself to step through the threshold. He’s been to your place plenty of times within the last eight weeks, but right now he’s acting like this is the most uncomfortable place he could be right now.
“I talked to Wonwoo about you,” you tell him.
“O-oh…? Did he uhm, say anything?”
“He said lots of things, nothing too noteworthy though. Didn’t know DK had such a big ass mouth though.”
“It wasn’t because of DK why I asked you!” Mingyu jumps in to say, his voice raised all of a sudden. “Sorry I just, I don’t want you to think that I think of you like that?”
“So you don’t think I’d be good at sex?”
“What? No, wait! I do! No that I think about you having sex. Well I guess I do? Because I asked you? But not in that way. I do think you’re hot! I just-”
“Breathe Mingyu,” you laugh. “I’m messing with you.”
“DK isn’t why I asked you, I asked you because well, I trust you.” Mingyu’s voice is softer now and you can’t help but find him cute in this moment. “I understand why you don’t want to though, and-”
“I never said I didn’t want to, Mingyu.” Mingyu’s mouth drops open a bit. He suddenly looks invested in what you have to say. “I just needed time to think.”
“So…what did all of your thinking decide?”
“I think that you should come over here and kiss me.” It’s bold. Mingyu doesn’t hesitate to do so, though.
He’s on you within a second, his body dwarfing yours as he pushes his mouth up against yours. You two stay like that for a moment before you pull away.
“Okay, you definitely need help.”
Mingyu whines. “Already? I thought at least I was a good kisser.”
“What girls are lying to you?”
You realize that this is going to be a lot more difficult than you were expecting. Mingyu is truly inexperienced. It’s going to be awkward and a lot of stopping and starting but you’re committed now so if Mingyu doesn’t come out of this his own kind of sex deity, you’re going to be so mad at him.
“You’re too rough. You need to build it up. Girls like being able to be eased into things. You can be soft even when your dick’s not, right?” You two have relocated to your couch where you sit facing each other.
“Softer….okay. Can I try again?”
“Eager to kiss me again?”
“Y/N,” Mingyu whines.
“Fine, fine, come here.”
This time Mingyu’s approach is…softer. It’s also rigid as hell. It’s like kissing a dead fish.
“Mingyu.”
“What now? I’m doing what you said!”
“You’re doing nothing! You’re just sitting there. You have to at least put some effort into it, be interested.”
“Be interested, but don’t be over eager. How do I do that?”
You huff. “Just, let me take the lead. But please kiss back this time.”
You scoot closer to Mingyu to the point you’re almost on his lap. You cup his face and pull him towards you. He feels more loose, which is a good start. You press your lips to his you can feel Mingyu hesitate a moment before finally pressing back. It isn’t too firm and you slide your lips over his. You can hear the soft smacking noises of your lips and you rub your thumb over Mingyu’s cheek.
When you pull away Mingyu looks at you with wide eyes. “That was…so cool.”
You snort. “Cool?”
“I’ve never kissed like that.”
“I can tell.”
“Hey!”
“That’s how most girls want to be kissed, at first at least. Then when things feel right, you can start to deepen it. Get a little more passionate,” you explain.
“What do I do with my hands?” You get flashbacks to past tutoring sessions with Mingyu. You tell him something and he has thirty questions to follow.
“You just touch. Her back, her cheeks, her neck, her waist. Maybe her thigh. Have you never made out with a girl before? You have had sex before haven’t you?”
“Yes! It just was always super rushed and half drunk. I’ve never cum from a girl, and a girl has never cum from me.”
“That’s…sad, but we’re going to fix that. Also stop having drunk sex.”
“Is that why I can’t cum?”
“It’s probably because you’re doing something wrong. And we’re going to figure it out,” you tell him. “Now that you can kiss properly, let’s move on to the next part. Making out.”
“Isn’t that the same as kissing?”
“No. Kissing is soft, slow, innocent. Making out is more intimate and passionate. It’s the real build up into doing other things.” Without warning you crawl into Mingyu’s lap and plop yourself down. “Want me to show you?”
Mingyu’s pupils widen and he nods. “Please.”
You pull Mingyu into you by the back of his neck and smash your lips together. You press up against him, pushing him against the back of the couch. You move your lips against his. You feel Mingyu gently place his hands on your waist before kissing you back. His lips slide against yours, meeting your pace.
You break away from Mingyu for a second to catch your breath before diving right back in. It’s not the most experienced kissing, your teeth clash together and your noses keep bumping, but the passion makes up for it. You bury your fingers into the hair on the back of Mingyu’s head and you tug at it a bit and Mingyu mewls into your mouth.
“You like that?” You whisper to Mingyu and he nods frantically. Mingyu goes in to kiss you again but you stop him. “Eager are we? Remember, this is a teaching lesson, so you’re here to learn.”
“Y-yes Y/N.”
“Good boy.” Mingyu shudders at this and you smirk. “Next step is touching. Do you wanna touch me, Mingyu?” You ask and you swear to God Mingyu whines.
“Yes. Please let me touch you.”
“Where do you wanna touch, puppy?” The nickname slips out, but you can’t help it. That’s exactly what Kim Mingyu is. An eager, adorable little puppy. Mingyu seems to like it too, considering his physical reaction to being called the name.
“Anywhere, everywhere. Wherever you’ll let me Y/Nie.” He’s practically squirming under you, and you can already feel his bulge starting to strain against his pants under you.
“Well go ahead,” you tell him. “Touch me where you want to.”
With shaky arms Mingyu lifts his hands up to your breasts. He hesitates for a second and you nod at him and he pushes them forward, cupping your boobs in his palms. He squeezes there as he stares at his hands, like he can’t believe this is happening.
“Softer,” you tell him as you cover his hands with yours. You show him the right amount of pressure to squeeze with. “Here.” You push his hands off before pulling your shirt over your head so your bra is exposed and Mingyu’s eyes widen, staring at your cleavage.
He brings his hands up again to touch you. His fingertip traces along the top of your breast, before taking the whole thing in his hand. He paws at you and you let out a soft moan. This seems to encourage Mingyu and he kneads at your tit more, thumb brushing over the swell of it.
“Put it together with the kissing,” you tell him. Mingyu leans forward and you connect your lips. Your hand rests on his jaw as you guide the kiss. You push your tongue into Mingyu’s mouth and he lets you.
One of his hands continues to work at your boob, while the other runs up and down your back. It seems he’s getting more comfortable with you and the whole situation. You roll your hips in his lap, grinding down on his cock and he hisses. You giggle to yourself.
Mingyu’s hand moves down off your boob and trails down your torso before reaching around you. Both of his large hands clamp down on your ass, squeezing there. You moan into his mouth. Bold move. You throw your head back and Mingyu takes that opportunity to move his mouth down to your neck.
He presses kiss and bites against the exposed skin, licking the marks after he bites down. Just a big ole puppy.
“Mm, Gyu,” you mumble. “You’re doing so good right now. You’ve always been a fast learner though.”
“Only when it’s you,” Mingyu says against your neck.
Mingyu’s mouth moves farther and farther down until his lips press up against your breasts. He bites down particularly hard on your right one and you let out a cry of pleasure. “Shit, Mingyu.”
“S-sorry,” Mingyu pulls back quickly but you shove him right back where he was.
“No, don’t stop. So good.”
Mingyu seems to get what you mean and he continues what he was doing, biting and kissing all over your chest. His hands move up your back and you can feel him grab the clasp of your bra, but stop before doing anything. He’s waiting for permission. What a good boy.
“Go ahead Mingyu,” you tell him and two seconds later your bra is on the floor.
“Oh fuck, Y/N,” Mingyu’s hips buck up into yours as he stares at your exposed breasts. Your nipples are perky and staring straight at Mingyu. He stares right back.
“Well go on, touch ‘em.”
Mingyu brings his hand up and brushes his thumb over your nipple and you whine and push forward into his hand. This excites Mingyu and he does it again. He squeezes at the supple flesh there, watching the way his large hand envelopes your tit.
Your other boob is left untouched and Mingyu seems to realize this and he leans his head down to wrap his lips around your areola. His tongue darts out to flick at your nipple and you grind your hips down, your pussy screaming from the feeling of his hot mouth on your breast.
You throw your head back again and bury your hands into his hair, holding him in place as he feasts on your chest. You’ve never been too big on marks, but you find you can’t tell Mingyu to stop as he gnaws on your chest.
It takes you a minute or two to remember that you’re doing this for a reason. You do your best to try and clear your head as you push Mingyu away from you. “You’re…very good at that,” you say, trying to catch your breath.
“You’re so pretty Y/N,” Mingyu whispers to you as his thumb brushes against your waist. “Especially like this.” You look down to see the red marks starting to form on your chest.
“There's more to learn, pup,” you tell him. “You’re doing so good for me right now though.”
“Wanna learn more. Wanna do more.”
“First step is to get you out of this.” You tug at Mingyu’s shirt and he helps you pull it over his head.
You take a moment to stare at his bare chest. You’re aware he’s a fit, good looking guy, but you’re still stunned at what you see. His pecs are huge and his abs are like a washboard. You wanna drool all over his stomach. You can do that later, you have a task at hand right now.
“You know how to touch a pussy Mingyu?” You ask him.
Mingyu looks alarmed at your boldness and he averts his eyes from you. “Uhm…no.”
“That’s okay baby,” you grab his chin and force him to look at you again, “I’m gonna teach you all about it.”
You climb off his lap and Mingyu whines as you do. He shuts up real quick when he sees you shimmying out of your pants. You nod at him to do the same and Mingyu quickly pushes his pants down his legs and kicks them onto the floor.
You have a better view of his bulge this way, and you can already tell he’s huge. His cock presses tight up against his boxers, begging to be freed and played with. You push Mingyu back onto the couch and crawl back onto his lap, hovering over his thighs.
You slowly lower yourself down against him and grind your cunt against his length. Mingyu whimpers below you as you roll your hips in slow, teasing motions. You can feel almost everything with there only being two thin layers between you two. Your panties are already damp with your arousal and you stare at Mingyu in the eyes as you move against him.
“It’s so warm,” Mingyu mumbles.
“I’m wet. You did that pup. You’re gonna make it happen even more though, yeah?” Mingyu nods at you. “You know where the clit is?”
Mingyu doesn’t respond and that gives you your answer. You grab Mingyu’s hand and place it against your cunt. Mingyu’s face goes through multiple emotions before settling on one of amazement. You press two of his fingers against you until they catch on your clit. You stifle a moan as you start to move Mingyu’s fingers in small circles.
“Feel that? That’s the clit. Keep touching there.” Mingyu seems hesitant to do so, though.
“I don’t wanna do it wrong,” he tells you.
You grind your cunt down against his hand. “If you do it wrong I’ll tell you, but you better start touching me now or I’m kicking you out and getting myself off.”
This sets Mingyu in motion and he starts to move your clit around in circles. His touch is still a bit shy at first, light and fleeting and almost not enough, like he’s teasing you.
“More,” you tell him. You reach down and press his fingers hard against you. “Firm, but not harsh.”
“It’s so wet,” Mingyu says. He’s right. Your panties are soaked through now and you can feel the roughness of the pads of his fingertips against you.
“Yeah,” you sigh, “super turned on. Gonna need you to finger me soon.”
“F-finger you?”
“Mhmm,” you hum. “It’s easy, don’t worry. Just keep touching me like this for now.”
You lean down and capture Mingyu’s lips again. It takes him a moment to double task kissing you and touching your clit but he eventually gets the hang of it. You take one of Mingyu’s lips between your own and suck on it, pulling it into your mouth before releasing it and doing it all over again.
Mingyu moans and his fingers accidently press harder against your clit, causing you to moan as well.
“Fuck, do that again,” Mingyu groans.
“What? Suck on your lip?”
“Yeah, please.”
“Only if you stick your fingers in me.”
“Ah, Y/N, I’m not sure…”
“You’ve come this far already. I’m so needy for it Gyu, please?” You give him your best begging eyes. “You’re the one who got me all worked up, the least you can do is fix it. You’ll learn a valuable life skill as well.”
Mingyu contemplates it for a few more seconds before agreeing. “Okay. Just, show me how, please?”
You lift your hips up a bit and push your panties to the side before grabbing Mingyu’s hand and moving further between your legs. You press Mingyu’s fingers up to your entrance and slightly lower yourself down on them, so you’re half riding his hand.
“Just push them inside and move them in and out. Like you do with any fucking motion. If you want it to feel really good, curl your fingers and try to find my g-spot.”
“What if it doesn’t feel good?”
“Then we’ll stop and try again, or move on to something else. You’re learning Gyu, it’s okay.”
He still looks a bit weary, but he slowly pushes his fingers up in you and you bite down on your lip so you don’t scream out. His fingers are thick and you probably should have told him to start with one. He’s awkward with his technique and it’s more like he’s jamming his fingers into you, rather than thrusting.
“Gyu, Gyu, baby,” you mutter and you grab his wrist. “Remember, take your time, it’s okay.”
You pull his fingers out of you before rearranging his hands so only his pointer finger is sticking up. You help him guide it into you slowly and you start to pull his finger in and out of you, moving your hips along as you do.
You loosen your grip on Mingyu’s hand and he starts to take over. “Mm, just like that pup. Can you curl your finger, like uh, like this.” You make the come hither motion and Mingyu does the same. You can feel his fingertip scrape against your walls, before pushing right up against where you want it.
You gasp and grind down against Mingyu’s hand. “Right there Gyu. Keep hitting right there. Add another finger too.”
Mingyu does as told and you work on holding up your end of the bargain. You pull Mingyu’s bottom lip into your mouth and suck on it before tugging at it with your teeth. You drag your teeth over his lip before releasing it. His lip is plump and slightly red when you pull away, but his pupils are blown wide.
Without him having to ask, you dive in to do it again, enjoying his reaction. You don’t think Mingyu realizes this, but as you suck on his lip his fingers start to thrust harder into you. The harder you suck, the deeper his fingers go. Not only does it feel good but the fact he doesn’t even know he’s doing it is so hot.
You break your lips away from Mingyu, both of you a little breathless. Your mouth isn’t lonely for long though as you dip down to press kisses against his neck. Not many guys you hook up with are into it, but Mingyu seems like the type who would, and you are so right. Mingyu mewls as you suck a mark right into the junction of his neck.
You can feel him shifting under you, his boner is probably painfully hard right now.
Mingyu’s fingers are now drenched from your arousal and you can feel yourself getting closer and closer by the second. Your legs start to tremble and you bite down onto Mingyu’s pec as your pussy spasms. You feel your whole body flood with pleasure as you ride Mingyu’s fingers.
“Y-Y/N? Are you okay?” Mingyu asks you softly. His free hand cradles your face and he looks at you with big eyes.
You gently pull his fingers out of you as you laugh, sinking into his body. “More than okay Gyu,” you mutter. “You just made a girl cum for the first time.”
“Wait, I made you cum? Just now?” You nod into his chest. You look up at Mingyu to find him looking down at you in awe.
For a fleeting second you think about how you just taught him how to finger a girl. How he can now go out and use those skills on anyone who’s willing (and that list is quite long).
The idea makes you…a little jealous to be honest. The thought of Mingyu using the skills you’ve taught him on another girl. You do get some satisfaction knowing that no matter who he uses them on though, you’re the one who taught him it.
You shake your head, why are you even thinking like that? Mingyu isn’t your boyfriend. This is just a tutoring lesson, nothing different than what you’ve been doing with him.
“Ready for your next lesson?” You ask him, banishing those thoughts from your mind.
“Yes!”
You caress his face, rubbing your thumb over his cheek. “You wanna learn how to use your mouth? Lick all over my cunt and make me feel good?”
Mingyu whines. “Yes Y/N, please.”
You slide off his lap and lay yourself down on the couch. You spread your legs a bit and you let Mingyu stare at you for a second. “Well come here pup.”
Mingyu quickly moves so he can place his face between your legs. His fingers run along the soft skin of your thighs. “How do I…”
“Uh, remember the clit from earlier? You just kind of suck and lick at it. Then if you want to do more you can do what you did with your fingers, but with your tongue instead,” you explain. Mingyu nods his head along, like he’s soaking up every word you’re saying.
Mingyu dips down between your legs and experimentally juts his tongue out and licks at your clit. His tongue is hot and wet and you need more. You let out a little encouraging hum and Mingyu dives in more. He laps at your clit, he’s a bit rough with it, but you don’t stop him, enjoying the roughness.
You reach down and bur your hands in his hair, tugging a bit. He hums against you and the vibrations go right into your clit, just as you hoped. Mingyu wraps his lips around your bud, sucking it into your mouth. You’re just about to tell him to suck a bit harder when you suddenly scream out, and not in the good way.
“Fuck, Mingyu!” You instinctively smack Mingyu against the head and he lets up. “Gyu what the hell?”
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” He quickly backs away from you.
You sigh. It’s not his fault, he didn’t know. “You can’t bite down on the clit, it’s sensitive. How would you like it if someone bit the tip of your cock. If you really wanna use your teeth, just scrape, don’t bite.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Mingyu whispers. You scoot closer to him. He looks afraid of touching you, but you reach out and grab him instead.
“Hey, it’s okay, I’m okay. Don’t worry about it. You’re still learning, you’re not going to be perfect the first time. I’m sorry for smacking you.”
“No, I probably deserve it. I know you didn’t mean to.”
“Exactly. We both did something we regret, and now we can forgive and forget, yeah?”
“Yeah, okay.” Mingyu still seems a little nervous but you just kiss at his jaw.
“We can come back to it another day, okay pup?”
“A-another day?”
“Yeah, remember, Rome wasn’t built in a day. I promise I’ll suck your dick then too, show you how a real girl should take care of you.” Mingyu nearly drools on you. “But let’s move to something more fun, yeah? Gonna show you how to use that big cock of yours.”
“Please,” Mingyu begs, his shy demeanor suddenly gone again. “My cock is so hard.”
“I know, that must hurt a lot. C’mon puppy, we’re gonna move to my bed, okay?” You crawl off of Mingyu and he scrambles to his feet. He hurries after you as you lead him to your bed. “Boxers off, on the bed.”
Mingyu quickly obeys. He strips his boxers off and climbs onto the bed, his back resting against your headrest. His dick rests against his stomach and you lick your lips at the sight. Just as you suspected, his cock is HUGE. Long and thick in all the right ways with a delicious vein running along his whole length. Yeah, you’re definitely going to have to suck his dick at some point.
“Now puppy,” you crawl onto the bed, sitting on your knees as you face Mingyu, “are you going to let me tie you up?”
Mingyu’s hips buck into the air involuntarily and he blushes. “I- uh, I’ve never thought about that but, I think I want to try.”
“Good boy.” You climb off the bed and move over to your closet. You can feel Mingyu’s eyes trail your naked form and you take your time bending down and picking out what you’re looking for.
When you turn around Mingyu is still staring shamelessly. A soft tie that you think once belonged to an ex is in your hands and you saunter back up to Mingyu. You climb over him, straddling his waist, your bare pussy hovering over his abs. You’re sure you could grind your clit to completion against them.
You lean over Mingyu’s face, bringing his wrists up over his head. You tie them to your headboard before leaning back. Mingyu’s gaze follows your tits that were just in his face and you roll your eyes. “Eyes up here pup.”
Mingyu blushes and drags his eyes up to meet yours. “Sorry.”
“If you want your arms to be let down, just tell me and I’ll untie you, okay?” He nods. “That’s a good boy.”
You lean down and kiss Mingyu. Your lips clash against each other, but Mingyu easily lets you have the dominance. You lower your body down onto him, grinding your clit against his abs. Your prediction was right. The grooves as his muscles catch on your clit.
“Fuck puppy, you’re such a good boy.”
“Y/N, please. Need to cum so bad.”
“Well since you asked so nicely.”
You reach over to your bedside table and grab a condom out of one of your drawers. You move down Mingyu's body and you roll it onto him. You notice his cock is already starting to produce precum and you resist the urge to lean down and lick it off.
Once you have the condom secured you hover over his lap and line him up to your entrance. Slowly, you sink down onto him. It takes a second for him to get into you, due to his large size.
Little by little, you’re able to fuck yourself down to his base. Your pussy is stuffed full and you swear you can feel him pressing up against your stomach.
“Gyu, how can you be this big, but have no clue how to use it?”
“I don’t know,” he whines, “but you feel so good right now. I think I’m gonna combust.”
“Don’t. Not until I say so.”
“Fuck, that’s so hot,” Mingyu says.
“Now be quiet pup, I’m gonna show you how this thing should actually be used.”
You brace yourself on Mingyu’s chest and start to roll your hips slowly. His cock stretches at your walls as it moves in and out of you. You bite your lip, half in concentration, half in covering up your moans.
Eventually you’re about to find a good pace that’s not too fast but not painfully slow. You can hear the soft noises Mingyu is releasing, letting you know how good he feels.
“You’re being so good for me baby,” you tell him as you lean down and press a kiss to his pec.
“Feels so good Y/N,” Mingyu whimpers. “Never felt a pussy as good as yours.”
The idea that you’re the best Mingyu’s ever had drives you crazy and you start to pick up your pace. You fuck yourself on Mingyu’s dick, hard and fast. Underneath you, Mingyu is a mess. As good as this is making you feel, you know Mingyu is even closer to falling apart than you are.
“Y/N, please,” he begs.
“Please what puppy?”
“Please, choke me.” The request isn’t what you were expecting, but you’re not mad at it.
You slide your hand up his chest and to his neck. You slide your fingers into the right place for safe choking and squeeze slightly. “Aww, does my pretty puppy like when my hand is collar?”
Mingyu just nods to the best of his ability, his breath coming out in small puffs.
“What a good boy for me.” You lean forward and kiss his forehead. “Look at you, all fucked out. That’s been your problem baby. You’ve never been successful because you need someone to take care of you, don’t you? You’re just a pliant little pup who needs to be bossed around.”
Mingyu whimpers at your words and you know you’re right. It’s almost laughable. The big, campus “player” is nothing but a submissive puppy who didn’t even know how to kiss until two hours ago.
It’s kind of hot though, discovering Mingyu’s kinks before anyone else can. This is just for you and him. You lean down and press your lips against Mingyu’s. Your grip on his throat helps you guide his face to yours and press hard and firm against him, wanting to taste every part of him.
You’re not sure what you were expecting when you agreed to help Mingyu out with this, but it definitely wasn’t how intimate it feels right now. You can’t say you hate it though. Mingyu’s body pressed against yours, your breaths mingling as his fat cock crams up against your cervix.
“Nngh, Y/N, close,” Mingyu mutters to his best abilities. “Please. Needa cum.”
“Aw, doesn’t my puppy want me to let him cum?” He nods. “Hmm, well since this is your first time being able to cum during sex, I guess I’ll let you have this. Come on puppy, give it to me.”
Mingyu sighs in relief at your words and he thrusts up into you once, twice, and then he’s cumming, painting the condom white with his semen. You don’t let him catch a break though, continuing to fuck yourself with his cock so you can cum too.
Mingyu whimpers with overstimulation as you reach down to furiously rub at your clit. You can tell Mingyu is dying to help but his hands are still tied up. You feel your stomach start to tighten up and then your legs are giving out and you fall against Mingyu, your cunt throbbing against him. You pant into his chest as you roll your hips lazily trying to prolong your orgasm as much as you.
When it seems that it’s over you reach up and untie Mingyu’s arms before gently lifting yourself off him and flopping down onto the bed.
“Normally after sex you do aftercare. Drinking water, going pee, cleaning up. Cuddles if needed,” you explain, still a little out of breath.
“Do you…want to cuddle?” Mingyu looks at you with innocent eyes and you melt a little.
“Uh, yeah, if you want to.”
“I’m always open to cuddles!” It sounds like a message that would be pre-recorded in a Valentine’s Day teddy bear, but you guess that kind of sums up Mingyu.
“Lemme go pee and get some water, and then we’ll cuddle okay?” You get up and go through your list of things you need to do. When you make it back to your bed it seems Mingyu has cleaned himself off with a tissue and you hand him a cup of water that he happily chugs down.
You climb back into your bed and slip under the cover. Mingyu does the same and you bury yourself into his side. His body is warm and still buzzing with that after sex glow and you rest your head on his chest. Neither of you bothered to get dressed and you relish in the feeling of his bare skin against yours.
“Y/N-ah?” Mingyu whispers and you look up at him. “Thanks for doing this. It uh, means a lot to me.”
“Yeah well, I got something out of it too, so no big deal.”
“I know but, I’m just really happy it’s you.”
The words hold a second meaning to them that you can’t quite place yet. You don’t respond, just press yourself up against Mingyu tighter. You can wonder about the future for you and Mingyu after you’re done cuddling.
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#seventeen#seventeen fanfic#seventeen smut#kim mingyu#mingyu#mingyu smut#mingyu fanfic#mingyu scenarios#mingyu imagines#mingyu x reader#svt#svt mingyu#kpop fanfic#kpop smut#rru.fics#rru.writes#★ mdni
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Boyfriend material: Mattheo Riddle
Mattheo tries to convince you he’s boyfriend material, but almost screws it up. Smut, so beware!
This part two. Read part one here.
Warning: piv, no protection, oral fem receiving.
Feedback is always very, very welcome.
Somewhat after midnight, you're dancing with Luna and a definitely drunk Hermoine. Pansy lets herself fall next to Mattheo who had been sitting on a couch with a drink in his hand, talking with a random piss drunk Ravenclaw. “Don’t party too hard, Matty.” Pansy can’t hide her pleased smile. Mattheo clenches his jaw, but ignores her. “You know, with an attitude like that people will start thinking something is bothering you.” The filthy grin on Pansy’s face never drops. Matheo leans back and finally looks at Pansy. “I’m not playing.” He simply states. Pansy lets out a laugh. “I know, I figured that much. Actually for the better. You couldn’t have won.” He raises an eyebrow and she elaborates. “(Y/n) is looking for a boyfriend and she doesn’t think your boyfriend material.” Mattheo’s eyes go soft as he stares at you. “I’m not boyfriend material, hm?” His question comes out so vulnerable even Pansy softens up a bit. “She wants hot sex, but also late night cuddles. She wants to lay her head on someone's shoulder and hold hands, intertwine fingers. She wants stolen kisses in the hallway between classes. Study sessions with messy make outs. Casual evenings, reading while leaning against one another. Nothing you would ever wanna settle for, right?”
You’re still dancing when an arm snakes around your waist. You turn your head, your nose almost brushes Mattheo’s. He gently pushes you against him and whispers: “Come with me.”. But he doesn’t wait for your answer. Pushing you in the direction of the exit. You make your way to the hallway, when someone tries to talk to you he grabs your wrist and drags you a little further to an empty hallway. “What’s up with you?” You ask, getting frustrated and you push him away. He licks his lips and a cocky grin spreads on his face. You're immediately intimidated and back up against a wall as he comes closer. He rests his hand against the wall and his other hand lingers near your side, but he doesn’t touch you. “Apparently you don’t think I’m boyfriend material.” He whispers in your ear. You swallow at the twisted tone in his voice. You want to protest but your mind can only think of his piercing eyes looking at you longingly. “I would like to prove you wrong.”
His face inches towards you, his perfect curly hair falls a bit forward, he’s too close for you to function properly. It really doesn’t matter if he really is boyfriend material or not. You want him and your body is screaming for any kind of touch, resulting in a soft whimpering noise rolling over your lips. For a second he smirks, enjoying what he’s already doing to you without touching you, but then again he really wants you too so his lips crash into yours. One hand reaches for your face, holding you as he kisses you passionately with a hint of hunger. His other hand pushes the small of your back, keeping you close. Your hand rests on his chest, tugging the material of his shirt urging him for more, while simultaneously intertwining your fingers in his hair, claiming as much of him as you can. His lips let go of yours, giving you a moment to breathe, but he doesn’t seem to need a break and continues kissing and sucking the flesh of your neck. When he finds your soft spot, you arch your back, unintentionally winding him up even more, and this does force him to take a moment to catch his breath. He scans over your body, pushed against his. A soft growl escapes him. He curses himself for having so little control over his hunger for you.
Mattheo’s attitude shifts and he lets out a sheepish laugh. “As part of proving to you that I’m boyfriend material, I say we take it slow.” With that he takes a step back. As his warmth leaves you, realization washes over you. What? Take it slow? Just my luck. I get Mattheo on his one day of good behavior. “What? Are you playing a game?” You blur out, “I’m going to find Enzo, at least he knows what girl needs from her boyfriend.” Mattheo’s eyes widen. You can only take one step before Mattheo is already in your way. With a confused and slightly angry expression he desperately scans your face. Woman, what do you want? I really am no boyfriend material. I have no clue what she wants. Fuck. How did I already screw this up? His shoulders drop and his face becomes so soft, it’s then that you realize he was serious about this. You smile lovingly and take a step closer. You wrap your arms around his neck. “I don’t want to take it slow.” Mattheo’s signature smile returns to his face.
The walk to his dorm was filled with sloppy kisses and him squeezing your ass signaling for you to hurry up. Once in his room, he pulls his shirt over his head. Exposing a muscular Mattheo with messy hair that gently leans against the door as he locks it. He looks at you as you ever so slowly unbutton your oversized shirt, gently exposing a little more skin to Mattheo. His breath gets a little louder with each button and his hardening member is starting to twitch. When your shirt falls to the floor and you stand there in shorts and bra only, he approaches you almost touching you but for the moment only watching you. “So, if I get this boyfriend thing right, I can have you in this room, again, tomorrow?” You nod and you close the last bit of space between you two by hooking a finger behind the outline of his pants, pulling him into you. His lips leave sloppy kisses before lustfully locking with your lips, all the while you make work of undoing his pants. Your hand strokes over the bulge held by his boxers. “Fuck.” He growls, he makes quick work of your bra and pushes you onto his bed.
As he crawls over you he shamelessly stares at your breasts. “My oh my.” Is all he says before having his way with your boobs. Kneading the left one, while sucking and licking the nipple of your right breast. It’s like he’s playing an instrument, everything he does has you making noises that sound like music to his ears. He can feel himself get harder with every second. He wishes he could play with you all night, but he honestly doesn’t have the self control for it. “Matty, please.” You whine. Your legs shift, as your pussy is in desperate need of attention. He slowly kisses his way down to your shorts. When you get impatient with his teasingly slow way of taking off your shorts and panties, you slip your own hand down to your folds. “Don’t think so, love.” Mattheo says and snatches your hand to hold it in his. He crawls over to you, his lips landing on yours as his fingers intertwined with yours, pushing your hand into the sheets. “Now let me do the work.”
“You tease too much.” You say with a pout on your face. “Is that so?” His eyes never leave yours as he plays with your nipple, leaving your pussy longing. “Matty!” You whine and your only free hand thugs at his biceps signaling that he needs to move. He loves how needy you are and how whiny you get. He smirks and comes down claiming another kiss from your lips. This time his hand moves down and without teasing or warning he pushes in a finger, immediately circling your clit. Your buck your hips, fucking his finger. “Needy are we?” Mattheo taunts. “Says the guy who’s staining his boxers.” You snap back, pleased to know he is as desperate for you as you are for him. But he really is desperate, desperate to make you come so he can then mercilessly and selfishly fuck you. You squeeze your legs around his hand, finger still circling your throbbing clit, signaling how close you are. “Come on, love, open your legs for me, let me take care of you.”
The moment you open your legs, his mouth is on your folds and his tongue guides you to your release. One hand on your boob and the other holding your leg, making sure he has all the access he needs. His name leaves your mouth over and over again between moans and whines as your orgasm washes over you. You softly pull on his hair as you need him to stop pleasuring you, feeling like you’re going to explode because of the overstimulation. It’s your squirming and begging that almost push him over the edge. So when he pulls away, he keeps himself from staring at the wonderful view you are, making quick work of his last piece of clothing. You're still coming down from your high as you get to watch him pump himself a few times. “Oh, Merlin.” You blur, slightly worried about your overstimulated pussy. “Don’t worry, love, I’ll be gentle. So, may I?” He asks so politely how can I say no. You nod.
He swallows and licks his lips. “Would you mind rolling over?” A moan slips your mouth at his request, your pussy going desperate for him again. You shift your position, arching your back and giving him a perfect view of what he wanted. “Fuck. I need you.” He sighs admiring you. He slips his thick hard cock inside of your soaking wet pussy and gives you a moment to adjust, while gently stretches your walls. “You’re perfect.” Is all he manages to say before he starts thrusting into you with a steady pace. Your hands instinctively grab a hold of the sheets, enjoying how he has his way with you, enjoying how his hands again make their way to your boobs playing with your nipples and enjoying how he moans your name softly. The sounds of your bodies clashing over and over again fill the room. He quickly figures out how he needs to take you to have you begging. When you start whimpering his name, he pulls out and flips you over and fills you with his cock again. “I’m so close. I need to see your pretty face.” He explains. Your mouth hangs open as no sounds come out. He holds your face in his hand as he watches you with lustfull eyes while rutting into you hitting your sensitive spot harder each time. A pleading moan leaves your lips and you pull Mattheo close, hiding in the crook of his neck, as your walls clench around him. Letting your second orgasm wash over you. After that it only takes a few hard thrusts to have you now both reaching your high.
He lets his cock rest inside you for a few seconds loving the idea of being inside of you, of having you. Mattheo’s possessive side definitely shows as he holds you the entire night, shamelessly admiring your body, but also treating you like a goddess.
And as requested a tag for @crossedskulls 😊
#mattheo riddle imagine#mattheo riddle#mattheo riddle x reader#slytherin boys#slytherin#papercorgiworldwritings
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With your I’ll be there for you series would you be interested in writing about Steve discovering that he has feelings for reader? I think it would be sweet for him to just find even the silliest things she does cute and then him having a little melt down because he realised he’s liked her along. The series is such a great idea! 💭
𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆
"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist
pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader
word count: 4.4k words
warnings: explicit language, alcohol consumption, drunk!steve, mentions of steve's dad being shitty, angst
summary: in which steve’s drunk and you don’t hesitate to cancel a date to take care of him
author's note: thanks for the request! probably from the moment i started this series/universe i knew that i wanted to have steve realize his feelings first so this request was quite literally perfect for that lol. this is slightly “while you were sleeping” by laufey inspired hence the title. the slow burn is finally starting to come to an end !! (i’m both happy and sad about that lmao) anyways enjoy<3333
general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
Winter 1986
You were in the middle of debating between a black skirt and a brown plaid one that Robin convinced you to buy when you two went thrifting just a few days ago when the phone rang.
Leaving both options on your bed, you went to the kitchen to answer it, bottomless aside from the stockings you had already put on because of the cold late February weather.
“Hello?”
“Hello?”
“Steve?” You recognized his voice for the most part, but he sounded a little different. A little far away, like he was calling from the oldest phone in the universe.
“Oh, hey.” The way he said the simple two words both confused and amused you because it sounded as if he didn’t expect you to be the person on the other end of the line.
You laughed a bit. “‘Oh, hey’? Don’t sound so disappointed. You called me.”
“I know. Sorry. I meant to call Eddie,” He said, and it was then that you heard what should’ve been obvious from the moment he said “Hello” to you— the way his words weren’t necessarily slurry, just slower than usual.
He was drunk, and you now recognized the voice that you had become so used to hearing since Steve’s sixteenth birthday when he snuck his dad’s whiskey and you both only had two shots of it before feeling it fully.
“Why would you call him? Aren’t you two together right now?” You asked, your confusion taking precedence over the amusement you felt in this moment.
Earlier that day, before you left the apartment to head to your twelve o’clock class, he told you that he was going to tag along with Robin, Vickie, and Eddie to some art show thing after his shift that night at Family Video; you would’ve gone too if you didn’t already have plans for the night.
“Also, I didn’t know that you could get drunk at an art show,” You added. “I’ll definitely make sure to go next time.”
“I didn’t go with them,” He told you, and before you could ask where he was, he answered the unspoken question. “I’m actually at a bar right now.”
Your eyebrows furrowed. “What? Why?”
“Very long story. Dad shit. What else is new, right?” Steve answered with a breath of a laugh.
He made his words sound lighthearted and as if whatever happened didn’t really affect him, but you, of course, didn’t see it that way. Without even being with Steve right then, standing in front of him and reading his facial expressions, you still saw through what he was trying to play off as “no big deal.” You’d known him more than long enough to know that anything involving his dad was usually always serious. And whatever shitty things his dad said to him this time around drove Steve to a bar rather than back here to the apartment to frustratingly rant to you, and that only worried you.
“Which bar are you at?” You asked softly.
“The only place in town, other than The Hideout, that doesn’t card,” He said and then immediately continued. “But, wait, don’t come here, though. I don’t want you to come get me. That’s why I was trying to call Eddie. I know you have your date tonight.”
Just for a second— actually, probably the entire time you’d been talking to Steve— you’d forgotten about the date, forgotten about the reason why you’d just been debating which skirt to wear, forgotten about what you were supposed to leave for in twenty minutes. And that slightly surprised you because, for the last couple of days, you’d been really excited about it.
Meeting Jamie felt like a sort of “meet cute” moment that was straight out of a romcom, one that you probably would’ve laughed at because of how cheesy it was. You bumped into him in the hallway on the floor of your apartment. He was your neighbor’s, Miss Johnson’s, nephew, and you learned that even though he went to a college about an hour away, he was trying to visit her more often. He had been in the middle of leaving when you saw him, and you gave a friendly wave and smile at first and he started a conversation with you. You two then spent an hour talking in the hallway before you headed inside your apartment to start studying for a test and he asked for your number, which led to more long conversations over the next few days until he asked you on a date.
In a way, it startled you how giddy you found yourself feeling about him after only those few days, how easily and quickly you liked him. It was the first crush that you had in a while that didn’t feel completely hopeless.
But now all of that was the last thing on your mind. It quickly became pushed to the side because you knew that your best friend needed you.
You shook your head in this moment even though Steve couldn’t see you. “No, it’s okay, I’ll come.”
“No, don’t, don’t. I’ll just call Eddie.”
He’s probably not home right now, was what you wanted to tell Steve, but you refrained from doing so at that moment. Instead, you said, “I’ll call him for you.”
The drunken sigh in relief Steve let out was immediate. “Okay, thanks, I don’t think I have any more change for this payphone, anyway.”
“Okay, just stay put and stop drinking.”
“The bartender already cut me off.”
“Good,” You said before saying a final goodbye to him and hanging up.
You then picked the phone up again to dial a different number. You, of course, didn’t attempt to call Eddie and you instead called Jamie. He was completely understanding when you told him that you had to cancel the date because of an emergency, and he said that you two could do the dinner and movie on a different night, which you quickly agreed on.
You put on the brown plaid skirt— quickly deciding that it looked better with the white top you were wearing, anyway— before slipping on a pair of shoes and grabbing your coat, shoving your car keys and wallet into the pockets, and then leaving the apartment.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
The drive to Webster’s took less than fifteen minutes and the current emptiness of it didn’t surprise you that much. From the handful of times that you’d gone to the place with Steve, Eddie, and Robin, it became a known fact that things didn’t become “lively” until after ten, and it was currently only a little after nine.
You spotted Steve sitting on a stool at the counter, head down in his folded arms. You sat in the empty seat next to him and tapped the side of his shoulder until he sat up and looked at you.
“Glad to know you’re alive, Harrington.”
He smiled at you and you gave him a small smile back, he must have forgotten that he’d told you not to come to the bar.
“I feel barely alive, actually.”
“Still counts.”
Steve only looked at you for a moment, taking notice of what you were wearing beneath your unzipped coat.
“You look nice,” He said and then seemed to realize something and his smile dropped. “Wait, shit, your date. You shouldn’t be here right now.”
“It’s fine. We’re just gonna reschedule it.”
“I’m sorry.”
You shook your head at him. “No, don’t be. It’s just a first date, anyway. Your drunk ass needing a ride home is obviously more important than that.”
Steve laughed a bit. “I guess I’ll take that as a compliment?”
“Yes, you should,” You told him and then watched with furrowed brows as he went to grab the short glass that was in front of him, half full of some dark liquor. He was about to finish what was left in the glass, but you grabbed it from him before he could. “Steve.”
“I still had this from before I called you. I can’t finish it?”
“No, because if you end up throwing up in my car on the drive home, I will have to murder you.”
You looked away from him before he could say anything in response to that and waved at Barry, the usual bartender that you became on a first name basis with after your third time going to Webster’s. Since it was the farthest thing from busy right then, he immediately walked over to you two.
“Hey, Barry, can he have some water?”
He nodded and filled up a glass, sliding it over to Steve and then looking at you. “Glad to see you here. He’s looked like a sad little lost puppy for the past hour.”
Steve stopped mid-sip to scoff. “That’s very not true.”
“Sorry, but I think I have to believe the only other sober person here,” You said and only smiled at the second annoyed scoff he let out, which was hard to take seriously because of his current drunkenness.
Barry got called over by a group of people that just walked in and you silently watched Steve take a few sips from his glass. When he set it down, you lightly nudged his knee with yours. “Do you wanna talk about what happened with your dad?”
Steve simply sighed at first. “He came to Family Video today and went on this huge rant about me and what I’m doing with my life. He thinks my job is shit, and even me going to school part-time isn’t enough. He thinks I’m such a loser in comparison to his friend’s kids who are actually “doing things with their lives.””
You frowned and shook your head. “Fuck him.”
“Cheers to that,” Steve said with a small laugh and held up his glass of water for a second. “He also said that he wants to set me up with this job at his friend’s insurance company, and I immediately said no to that. I’m still not entirely sure what I wanna do yet, but I know it’s not that— some stupid fucking desk job. Especially not one that’s just given to me by my dad.”
“He’s an idiot,” You told Steve. “And also his bullshit is not at all worth the hangover you’ll have in the morning.”
“You might be right about that,” He responded, eyes fixed on his now half-empty glass of water and a small amused smile on his face. “But, it felt good for a second.”
You poked his arm so that he would look at you. “You could’ve talked to me about all of that instead of coming here.”
“I didn’t wanna mess up your date by coming home and talking to you about all of this sad shit. I knew that you’d just worry about me and probably not go,” He mumbled. “And I feel like a dumbass for still messing it up.”
“It’s okay. Seriously. Honestly,” You told him and then playfully smiled as you said your next words. “And you know that I would tell you if it wasn’t okay. I’d definitely hold this over you for at least a week, and force you to clean out Harold’s cage and do my laundry that’s been building up for the past week and a half. But you’re drunk and sad, and I’m way too nice to make you do any of those things.”
He laughed at that, which made you smile wider. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” You said before you stood up from the stool you’d been sitting in. “Now, come on, let’s get out of here before it starts getting crowded. Can you walk okay?”
Steve only nodded in response, which was a nonverbal answer that you weren’t sure if you completely trusted, so you stood close to him as he also got up and pulled some cash out of his back pocket and placed it on the counter.
He then waved at Barry, and you were certain that he probably didn’t mean for it to be so animated and comical, but it very much looked that way. “Goodnight, Barry.”
The bartender laughed a bit when he looked over at you and Steve. “‘Night, guys.”
Steve started heading toward the door first and you followed just a few steps behind him. When he stumbled a bit before even making it out of the door, you grabbed his hand and moved closer to him so that he could drape his arm around your shoulders, and then one of yours circled around his waist.
Leading him to your car was a feat in itself, but once he was settled in the passenger seat and you started driving, he rolled his window down completely and had it like that during the entire ride even though it was freezing cold outside, and that was worse than dealing with his stumbling.
When you made it to the apartment building, his balance was actually a bit more coherent so you didn’t need to do more than just hold his hand during the entire walk to the elevators and then down the hallway to the apartment.
You dragged him to your room and he sighed in contentment when he sat down on the side of your bed; he always liked your mattress better than his own for some reason.
“Wait, don’t fall asleep yet,” You told him before heading over to his room and grabbing a random t-shirt and basketball shorts from one of his drawers. “Here, put this on. I know you’d be mad at me if I let you fall asleep in those jeans.”
“Thanks,” He mumbled with a yawn as you handed the clothes over to him, and then you went to the kitchen as he started changing.
You filled a mug with water and then pulled open the drawer that had the bottle of aspirin in it. Neither you nor Steve were really sure why it lived there instead of in one of your bathrooms, where it probably should’ve been, but you two also didn’t make any effort to move it.
Steve was already asleep and under the covers when you walked back into your room, and you placed the mug and aspirin on the nightstand on his side. You changed into your own pajamas for the night, which simply consisted of an old baggy t-shirt and shorts, before settling in on your side of the bed.
It was still pretty early for a Friday night, barely even ten o’clock, but you didn’t mind going to bed because you were actually a little tired. Steve was turned and facing away from you, but you still watched him and his even breathing for a bit, making sure he was okay before you quickly drifted off to sleep yourself.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
Steve didn’t know what time it was when he woke up, but he could tell that it was pretty early because he could see the just sun starting to rise.
The other things he quickly noticed were that he was in your bed and he had a pounding headache, which was a little confusing at first, but then all of what happened last night started coming back to him.
The shit with his dad, the bar, the accidental phone call to you, and then you coming to the bar and bringing him home— he remembered it all.
With a soft groan, Steve slowly sat up in bed, doing his best not to wake you, and then reached over to grab the water and aspirin you left out for him.
He took the medicine and drank most of the water and then laid back down, turning on his side to face you. Your head was against the pillow and even breaths fell from your slightly parted lips. You looked so peaceful like this, he decided, so pretty.
Steve thought about you and Jamie, and how happy you had been when you talked about him. Steve also knew how excited you’d been about the date, and even though you had told him that it was okay that you had to cancel it last night, he still felt a little bad about it all.
He knew that you would probably do anything for him, and that was completely mutual. If the roles had been reversed last night, Steve wouldn’t have thought twice about canceling a date to go pick you up from some dumb bar. And making those sorts of sacrifices for one another never felt like a question, it just always felt like the obvious thing to do.
It didn’t completely make sense at first, but somehow it was that simple and crystal clear thought that managed to shift something deep down inside of him— it harshly drew the line between best friends and something more. And Steve quickly realized exactly which side he lay on.
Which was confusing because the lines of where your friendship began and ended had always felt so unquestionable— you and him were best friends; nothing more, nothing less.
But it was different now, it changed, and it was this moment that told him that it actually had been that way for a while; probably since you two moved into the apartment.
Starting from that day in August your lives became even more intertwined with one another— which didn’t feel entirely possible because of how close you’d been for so long— but it was true. He hadn’t realized how blurry the lines had been getting since then.
Since you two started beginning your days and ending them in the same home. Since so many nights became spent in each other’s beds; nothing more happening than sleeping and late night talking, but still. Since you two got Harold only a few weeks into living in the apartment, and you both immediately fell into your unserious parental roles in the hamster’s life. Since an unspoken early morning weekend routine fell into place where Steve would make coffee and toast and you’d do the eggs and bacon. Since you two became something equivalent to a married couple that had been together for at least twenty years.
And then Steve realized that actually maybe this something more had always been there— maybe it had always been so fucking obvious.
He thought back to the end of Senior year when you two went to each other’s proms and slow danced at the end of the night because you both thought it would be funny, but those moments actually turned into something really sweet and wholesome; and you’d both think back on it during the most randomest of times.
And then he also thought about smaller things, the parts of your personality that made him feel so goddamn lucky to know you. How you always fiddled with the radio and never settled on a station for longer than a few minutes during perhaps any car ride where Steve was the one driving; something that you’d been doing since the day he got his driver's license and you two went on your first solo car ride together. How pretty much anything you did would only make him smile and playfully roll his eyes or make fun of you.
Steve wasn’t entirely sure why he was having this sort of “epiphany moment” right here, right now, in your bed as he looked at you peacefully sleeping next to him.
It, of course, stemmed from you canceling something that he had known you’d been looking forward to for the last couple of days to instead take care of him, he could recognize that. But, what made that so different from everything else you’d done for each other over the years?
He immediately thought that maybe there was no one straight answer to that question because it wasn’t about what was different. Instead, it was about all of those other moments too. They had slowly built upon each other until it came to this one on this February morning— nine years into your friendship and six and a half months into you two living together— and Steve could finally recognize what it all had meant, and he was ready to accept the truth for what it was too.
He liked you. More than liked, actually. He loved you, he was in love with you.
But, you were also his best friend, the most important person in his life, and he didn’t want to be the reason that that ever got messed up. And that thought was what made him finally look away from you and mutter out a soft, “Fuck.”
Steve quickly got out of the bed, and he was surprised, but also completely grateful, that his quick and hasty movements didn’t manage to stir you awake.
He left your room and went to the kitchen. It was early and he probably should’ve been trying to get a few more hours of sleep, but he wasn’t tired anymore.
The realization was the only thing on his mind— in a matter of seconds, it managed to completely consume it.
Everything else that had been happening the past few months finally made complete sense; Steve saw it all in a different way. He now understood why he couldn’t picture any sort of future with Vanessa when he went out with her a few times back in December even though he really did like her, and why he couldn’t see anything with anyone he went out with. Because deep down, he knew that he could only see that with you. It made sense why his dating life had been in such a rut lately and why he didn’t particularly mind it all that much.
When you two would jokingly say that you both were completely okay with ending up “alone together forever,” he realized now that from his side of things, deep down, it had never been a joke. And he wondered if it was the same way for you.
In an ideal world, the answer would be yes. But, things only felt confusing, and if he was being a thousand percent honest with himself, he didn’t know if that answer was yes in this world.
Steve knew that you really liked Jamie, even in such a short amount of time, so that couldn’t mean that you had any sort of feelings for him. Right? Or maybe you just hadn’t had your own “epiphany moment” yet? Should he tell you about his? Should he tell you about any of what just hit him in the past ten minutes?
His brain felt as if it was going to fucking explode with all of the questions circling his mind right then, and the coffee he was making failed to distract his thoughts from everything.
He came to the quick decision that he wouldn’t tell you what he was feeling; it would just be easier that way. There wouldn’t be any way for him to potentially fuck things up between you two if he simply ignored what he was feeling. It was easy to imagine how drastically your friendship would change if he told you everything and you didn’t feel the same. Therefore, he could push it all away to make sure that nothing changed for the worse.
When the coffee was done, he poured some into a fresh mug and took a long sip. Any other time, he couldn’t really stand straight black coffee, but the bitterness tasted good for once; he decided to focus on that instead of anything else.
Steve wasn’t sure how long he had been leaning back against the counter and sipping from his mug before you came out of your room. It could’ve been one minute or ten; right then, time felt as if it was moving both slow and fast.
“Hey,” You said, giving him a small smile and rubbing the tiredness out of your eyes. “I’m surprised you’re up already. I definitely expected you to be passed out until at least ten.”
It felt equivalent to a light switch flipping how quickly Steve felt affected by your smile and simply you in that moment. He’d probably seen you like this a million times before— just waking up and still in your now wrinkled pajamas from the night— but it felt entirely different now. And that was when he knew how fucked he was.
“Yeah, I, uh, I woke up and couldn’t, um, go back to sleep… So, yeah, just came out here. Made some, um, coffee,” He ultimately responded and then inwardly sighed at how flustered he was right then. He let out a quick laugh. “Sorry, blame the hangover for my inability to say sentences right now.”
If that was how he was going to act around you from now on, he knew that trying to keep this a secret was probably the most unrealistic idea ever.
You laughed a bit and nodded, seemingly unfazed by his awkwardness right then, and opened up the fridge. “You think you can stomach eggs and bacon?”
“Yes to the bacon, but I think I should play it safe and say no to the eggs.”
“Makes sense,” You said, closing the fridge after grabbing the bacon. You placed the pack on the counter near the stove and then looked at Steve. “You feeling better about all of that dad shit?”
It was almost comical how even though it had been the reason for everything that happened last night, the conversation he had with his dad was the farthest thing from his mind now.
“I’m good, actually.”
“Good,” You said, smiling at him and then reaching out to grab his hand and give it a light reassuring squeeze; which, unknown to you, made his heart feel as if it was going to somersault out of his chest. “Remember, the next time this happens, come to me and we both can get drunk here for free. Or we can just run away and join the circus, or whatever it was we agreed on when we were twelve.”
Steve only nodded and gave you a small smile in response because it felt as if that was all he could do at that moment. If he attempted to say anything, he felt like his words would’ve started or ended with, “I’m in love with you.”
He changed his decision then. He knew that he had to tell you everything because it wouldn’t be easy to simply bury it down and ignore it. There was no way that he’d be able to keep this from you, at least not for a long time, it was already swallowing him whole. And although he had no idea when or how he would tell you the truth, he made a quick promise to himself that he would do it.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
let me know ur thoughts<333
(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)
#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington fic#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington smut#steve harrington x you#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington x fem!reader#stranger things fluff#steve harrington imagines#steve harrington x reader smut#stranger things imagine#stranger things series#stranger things smut
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moon river. lando norris.
“ heatwaves, a call from lando. you’re desperately in love. ”
lando norris x fwb!reader
a warning — nsfw warnings under cut. minors dni. language. alcohol consumption.
18+: oral (f & m receiving), phone sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kids), overstimulation, filth but it’s cute lowkey x
The floor was hard and cool beneath your back as you lay on kitchen tiles in a bikini top and shorts, your kitten laying on your stomach, sleeping. England was suffering a terrible heatwave and the tiles were the only solution at the moment.
You were drinking a voddy coke in the late afternoon with your friend Charlie (also on the tiles) when your phone rang next to you, and you wiped the sweat off your forehead.
“It’s Lando,” you said with surprise, and Charlie reached across to hit your arm playfully. “What, boy wants to fuck in this weather?”
“I thought he was staying in Croatia with his mates for a bit longer now,” you frowned, but picked up nonetheless.
🍸💋🏹☀️
You’d ended up ‘friends with benefits’ a few months ago, after one night eating pizza and talking (originally platonic) had turned into sex on his sofa (not very platonic). You had been terribly stressed about your situation with him (he’d fucked off to his next race).
Then he’d called and you’d listened to him come over the phone as you two spoke lowly, words hot and heavy, gasps and grins accompanying it all.
When he came back he’d surprised you by turning up at yours, and you’d hugged him and you’d talked for a long time, very much just friends. You pretended to forget the last two times you two had spoken before having sex on your sofa this time. Then you couldn’t pretend.
He’d told you he wasn’t looking for a relationship but when he fucked you he’d never felt ‘so much’.
Then you’d laughed. And told him you didn’t mind being friends with benefits. But truth be told, you cared very much about him and were very much terrified about it all.
And he’d agreed, and you’d fucked again. You really couldn’t restrain yourself around him, a fact he found very funny.
🍸💋🏹☀️
“Hi, how’re you?” You say politely, and you hear him laugh.
“I’m great thanks. D’ya mind if I came over?” His voice is low and has a bit of a rasp, and you can tell he’s wanting you.
“I thought you were in Croatia. Also, Charlie’s here.” You say, buzzed on the vodka you’d downed a while back, sipping your drink.
Charlie shakes their head and sits up, mouthing ‘I’m leaving.’
Your giggle drowns out his first few words. “—sday. I can’t see you after today before I go to Italy to Dez’s wedding and y’know we haven’t seen each other for a few weeks. But it’s all good-“
“No, no, no, no. Charlie has a… beautician appointment, they’re going like right now,” you say hurriedly, and he laughs knowingly. “Plus you haven’t met the kitten,” you ruffle his fur, him fast asleep.
“I’ve just got to see the kitten,” he says, teasing, and you laugh loudly down the phone. “Get your arse over here.” You end the call.
“You legend,” you get up and hug Charlie, and they wink. “Not going to prevent my friend from getting laid!” Charlie sings, and you laugh, tidying up as you move to the front door.
Twenty minutes later you’ve made the flat look a bit decent, as much as you can being a bit drunk, and you pick up the kitten when there’s a knock on your door.
You’re a bit on edge from not seeing him for nearly a month, and you’ve forgotten to change into a better outfit but you sigh and go to open it anyway.
There he stands with shorts and a button up shirt that’s open, and his forehead is glistening with sweat but he smiles so brightly when he sees you.
He brings you in for a hug when you wrap an arm around his neck, kissing his cheek, and he kisses your neck and you already want him so much.
“This is Roy.” You present the black kitten to him, and he cackles. “Why the fuck did you name your kitten Roy?”
Roy mewls and Lando coos, taking him (the little thing can fit on one of his big, veiny hands). You stare at him, eyes glazed, lips open a little, and you want to tear the shirt off.
“Fuck it’s hot.” He sighs, and you nod, moving erratically.
“Have you been drinking?” He asks, grinning, and you smile cheekily while taking Roy back to put him on his bed with an ice pack.
You bend over purposefully, knowing he’s watching, and you hear that little hitch in his breath that has you going wild.
“Want a drink? I’ve still got like half a bottle of vodka left. I can make you a voddy coke or 7up or something.”
He shrugs and rubs a hand on your bare back, following you to the kitchen.
You’re pouring vodka, eyes focused, and you hear his breaths when he comes to stand next to you. You look up at him, blowing a kiss, and his hand slides down to rest on your arse, slapping it softly. You bite your lip, trying to ignore the warmth in between your legs.
You hand him the drink and hoist yourself onto the kitchen counter. “How’ve you been?” You ask, smiling, and reach up to run a hand over his facial hair that you have to admit that you find very hot despite some choice words on Twitter.
He takes a sip and bends down to kiss you, and you shiver in his grasp as his hand moves to the tie of your bikini top at the back, loosening and pulling the top off.
“I just missed you,” he whispered, and you can only stare as he rubs a thumb over your nipple and you stiffen.
He sets the drink down, glass clattering on the counter, and you take that shirt off, and he’s now in between your legs and his lips have that thing you’ve been craving for so long.
You run a hand over his firm chest and he is so warm. He gets you to jump off and shimmy you out of your shorts, and you’re left in your panties, taking them off, when he hoists you back on the counter.
The marble is cool beneath your skin and he spreads your legs, bending down to be in between your thighs and you’re shaking with the emotion of missing him.
He leans in and gently licks a stripe up your pussy, and you nearly ascend to a higher place when he buries his face in between your legs, nose nudging your clit. You’re on fire, and his fingers are suddenly helping, and he’s moaning a little into your cunt, the vibration against your clit making you move against his face, using the ridge of his nose to get your eyes to roll back.
His hands firmly hold you in place, slapping your cunt as you moan, and your hand goes to his hair, tugging as he eats you out like his life is on the line. The delicious feeling of his nose and his facial hair and his tongue and his fingers has you whining and moaning quietly as he hits a better spot.
“Lando, I’m- ‘m gonna…” your leg shakes as you teeter on the edge, listening for his instruction, and you’re digging your nails into his scalp before he taps your thigh as a confirmation and you come with a moan, legs shaking around his face. He keeps going as you move beyond sound, toes curling and core tensing as your mouth stays open, and he comes up, that stupid goatee shining with your arousal.
He has a glazed, pussy-drunk expression on his face. “Missed you,” he says, smiling goofily, and you laugh as you lean in to kiss him, tasting yourself as he brushes a thumb over your clit just to make you arch into him.
Then he’s pulling you off the counter and turning you around. “Bend over,” he says gruffly, and you arch your back, and you hear him take his straining cock out of his shorts, and you turn around to fist him once or twice just to make him eager.
Then with a questioning look you get on your knees and he is staring at you with heavy eyes, uncaring about his previous plan, and you put his cock in your mouth, unsteady as he fucks your throat, so needy.
“Waited- all month - for this mouth and this pussy.” He says in between gasps of pleasure and you moan, nearly choking, and he is so full of emotion as you deep throat him, and he moans before pulling you off. “Wanna- come - in you.” He pants and you stand up, knees weak, and he lines up his cock and pushes you around with a slap to your arse, bending you over. “This perfect pussy,” he says in a near-whisper, and you cry out with pleasure as he enters you, fucking you fast, and your tits bounce against the counter before you feel yourself coming again, and you barely have time to warn him before -
“Come for me,” he says, nearly splitting you in two as you curl over the counter, breathing erratically as you come, squeezing him with a moan of his name, and you feel him tense up inside you, and his hips stutter as he comes; you feel the warm ropes of cum shoot inside you, and you’re still sighing with pleasure as he leans over you, kissing your back.
🍸💋🏹☀️
You’re curled up next to him on your sofa when he pulls you into his body, the heat of the day finally diminishing, and you’re watching the football together when he plants little kisses on your neck. You grasp his thigh, yawning. He laughs.
“When will I see you again?” You ask, and he hums. “Two and a half weeks?”
You pout before he pulls you onto his lap. “I think this is more than what we’re calling it,” he says softly, and you laugh incredulously.
“You idiot. Of course it is.”
You press your head into his neck, relaxed, and you can practically hear the cogs in his brain turning.
“I like you a lot more than just a quick fuck,” he says gently, and you nod, “I miss you. And not just your body.” He says, faintly, and you listen to his next words. “I want to see you every morning. Listen to you sing in the shower. Pet Roy” - he cackles - “if you get what I mean?”
You laugh before his voice drops to just above a whisper, and he sounds vaguely surprised at what he is saying. “I… I want a part of your future. I want so much of you,” he says, unsteadily, and your heart beat quickens. “Don’t get me wrong, I want to fuck you all the time, but I also want this.” He gestures to the tv. “I guess what I want to say is that I love you.” He says frankly, and you turn around to face him with emotion brimming in your eyes.
“Oh Lando.” You sigh, hugging him, and his arms wrap around you. “I’ve wanted that since we first fucked,” you laugh, and he throws his head back, laughing, pushing you down on the couch before moving in between your legs, and you whimper softly.
🍸💋🏹☀️
Liked by landonorris, maxfewtrell and 463 others
yourusername London been hitting diff lately x
charlie.bby Baby Roy 😍
riabish I spot lando.jpg
landonorris Me and Roy are like this 🤞
bestieuser Awwww xxxx
tumblrinas this came from the depths i swear. i love writing smut for lando ngl. he’s soooo. let me know what you think! don’t be a silent reader pls xxxx
#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1#f1 x you#f1 fanfic#f1 one shot#f1 fic#lando norris x reader#lando norris smut#lando norris imagine#lando norris one shot#f1 smut#lando norris x you#f1 smau
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Hi love! How are you? I’m so in love with your writing and I wanted to see if you could write something for me? 🥺 (only if your requests are open.)
I was wondering if you could write a Sugar daddy!Miguel? The reader is working at little club and notices her one night working, running all over the place serving drinks to other drunk people. Miguel calls her over for a drink and talks to her for a bit. He tells her “someone as beautiful as you shouldn’t be working in a place like this?” And offers her to be his sugar baby, she’s surprised at his request but takes it. After he spoils her she realizes she starts to have feelings for him and he does too. 🫶🏻💗
Sure thing! This might be late from when you originally requested, but I finally got it done! Haha. I won't do too much of a age difference, since I'm not too comfortable with large age gaps, but hell, sugar daddies can be the same age too!
Right??
Warning: Fluff, language, teasing, fluff fluff and fluff
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Another day, another dollar. That's how you tried to keep motivated. Did it work? No, but your bills sure did play a part in getting your ass off the bed. Being an adult sucked. Where you worked, also sucked; but were you going to quit...Not yet.
Although, you were desperate for something new.
You hated your job. Working at a stripe club, serving drinks to drunk and perverts. It wasn't your ideal choice, but it was the only place that was willing to give you a chance. You couldn't afford to go to college and your bills were too high to wait for anything else.
You had been told by your boss that you'd make more money as a stripper, but to hell with that. You knew the risks and quite frankly, you were afraid to dance half naked in front of so many men. Though, it didn't stop you from getting some tips here and there.
"Another round over here, sweet cheeks!" One of your regulars called out.
You let out a huff, pouring more beers into glasses. Before hitting the floor, you fixed your booty shorts once more and hurried to him. The drinks hit their mouths before you even put them on the table.
"Geez, trying to hit a record? At least let me get them on the table before inhaling them," You teased.
"Drinks from you are too good to not have, baby. I'll take it nice and slow next round if you get on that stage."
"Not even in your dreams, pal." You huffed, walking to the next table.
You hated this place. You hated the customers. Hell, sometimes you hated the pay. It was not enough for the shit you had to deal with on a daily bases.
"(Y/N), VIP guest is requesting you from bring them a popular drink. Doesn't care which one, he just wants you to deliver it. Don't fuck this up." Your shitty manager said over the radio.
"Great."
------------
Miguel let out an obvious sigh, signaling to his brother that he was not happy to be there. He would groan and grunt, but unfortunally Gabriel had gotten used to those noises and somehow tuned Miguel off. Honestly, it was a talent.
Since Miguel was forced to come to the club, he might as well have made the best of it. Miguel grabbed the VIP room and made himself comfortable. His sunglasses making him the center of attention sure did help with keeping Miguel seated in his seat.
He watched the crowds of men cheer towards the strippers, begging for more and throwing their money. Miguel exhaled softly, looking at his private stage. There was no need for him to be here. He should be outside, stopping crime.
"Miggy! Stop being such a brood and have fun!" Gabriel huffed, poking his head into the room. Miguel shrugged,
"I am having fun. See? I'm here."
"Such a bore."
Miguel rolled his eyes towards his brother. He hummed lowly, watching the people in the club. He furrowed his brows, spotting you run around with a scowl on your face. He couldn't help but smile. To think there was someone else in here who was just as unhappy as him.
Miguel pondered to himself. He had been wanting to do something risky lately. That and he was touch starved. Perhaps he could save someone tonight, but in a different matter. Hell, it could be fun too.
Requesting for you, Miguel leaned back in his seat and waited. With his heighten senses, Miguel resisted a chuckle as he heard you cuss under your breathe. By the time you arrived, you had a obvious fake smile against your lips and a tall, colorful drink in your hand,
"Hello! You requested me?" You asked sweetly. Miguel raised a brow as he took a sip of his drink,
"Couldn't help but noticed you working too hard out there," He said smoothly and motioned to the seat across from here, "Your boss can't see us from here. Take a break."
"Ha, you trying to get me fired?"
"Perhaps, if you're willing to listen and take my offer," Miguel said, continuing to force the sweet drink down his throat.
Miguel watched you hesitate before taking a seat. Your clothes were obviously too tight for you.
"So, what's your offer?"
"It's obvious that you're too good and beautiful for this job. So, hear this bored man out," Miguel tried to get you to smile, "I have too much money and not enough to spend it on. Would you allow me to waste it on you?"
"Huh? Like...Have you as my sugar daddy?" You questioned, observing him, "You only look a few years older than me. How can you be that rich?"
"Plenty of ways. I won't have you do anything you don't want. Just a date here or there, and in return you can spend as much money as possible on whatever you want."
"So....just a date in return?" You hesitated and glanced at the club, "I am being punked right?"
"Why would I lie?"
You glanced at the club once more, honestly considering the man's offer. You were desperate and what was the harm in just playing along for a date or two? If you can pay off your bills and get enough money, you could run away if things got too scary.
"Deal, I'm (Y/N)"
"Miguel."
--------------
Part of you still doubted Miguel and his offer. Even as you quit on the spot and held his card in your hand, you still doubted it. It was only until you officially paid off a bill and was asked on a date that it hit you. This was real. You nabbed yourself a Sugar Daddy.
And a hot one at that.
Honestly, you weren't too disappointed with your situation. Miguel was really kind to you and didn't ask for much. Your first few dates were honestly some of the best you've ever had. The most you did was hold hands and a small peck on the cheek here and there. It was sweet and simple.
You really only used his money to pay off your bills and do some small groceries here and there. Honestly, you were more into having another date with Miguel. He actually listened to you and took care of you. Something that made your heart flutter.
"Hey, Miguel, want to come over to my place tonight? I'll make dinner." You asked him over the phone.
"Are you sure?"
"Of course. I want you to come over," You said with a smile as you cleaned your apartment, "I want you to try my cooking for once."
"Then I'll be there."
---------
Miguel was honestly surprised by your request. He was new to this whole Sugar Daddy business and was enjoying it for what it was. Your little dates gave him energy after a long day of Alchemax and the Spider Society.
Your little touches made him want more. Honestly, Miguel was having a hard time holding back. He was enjoying this too much and wanted more from you, but that was not part of the deal. Miguel didn't want to push you away.
Swinging around the city, Miguel tried to think of ways to approach you in the matter. He wanted to kiss you. He wanted to tell you that he liked you, but what if you didn't? Miguel only approached you because of how beautiful you were and how much you looked like you needed a break.
This wasn't part of the deal.
"But please say yes."
----------
You could feel the sweat on your palms as you finished prepping dinner. You even wore a sexy dress to get Miguel's attention. Hearing your door bell, you hurried over and let Miguel inside. You greeted Miguel and pecked his cheek, hiding your blush.
"Um, don't mind the mess." You motioned him inside. Miguel tried his best to keep his hands to himself,
"It looks fine. You on the other hand, beautiful." He hummed. You hurried to the table, placing the plate before him, "Smells amazing. You truly didn't have too."
"Like I said...I wanted too." You sat beside Miguel, watching his reaction, "I can only thank you for much. I want to show more of my appreciation."
"You don't have too, baby," Miguel rubbed your head, "I chose to take care of you."
"And if...I want more?"
"Money?"
"No!" You nearly yelled and inhaled deeply, "Sorry, I didn't mean to raise my voice, but I'm not that greedy. I was wondering if maybe, I can give you more....affection."
"I don't want to force you to-"
"I want too!" You told Miguel, grabbing his hand, "Miguel, we've been in this relationship for about two months now. You've done so much for me and honestly...I really, really like you. I want to be with you and kiss you and-"
Miguel was the one to interrupted you this time as he pulled you into a kiss. Both of his hands cupped your cheeks, holding you in place. He could feel shivers run down his spine as you wrapped your arms around his neck.
This was what he needed. What he wanted. Thank whatever God listened, but Miguel was grateful that you shared his feelings in return. Breaking the kiss, Miguel stroked your lips and hummed in response,
"You are such a good girl for me," He whispered. You rested your forehead against his,
"You know, I never mentioned how much of a turn on that is whenever you say it."
You couldn't help but laugh as Miguel immediately grew flustered. He nudged his side and signaled towards his plate. Miguel cleared his throat and finished his meal alongside you. Once the two of you were done, you both decided to watch a movie.
More like make out on the couch.
Your Sugar Daddy soon turned into your 'Daddy' really quick. You now had new bills to worry about, aka pain killers and muscle relaxers because Miguel was a beast in bed.
But hell, it was worth quitting your job for him.
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Waaaaaah, I hope you liked it!!!!
@tojishugetiddies
#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel spiderverse#spiderman 2099#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel spiderman#atsv miguel#across the spiderverse#miguel x you#miguel x y/n
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okok i'm here for a request
wonwoo as your coworker who you've been having an office romance with - which you have been taking as a joke. everyone thinks you'll get together, and you play along with that. but wonwoo is very serious.
so late night booty call from coworker!wonwoo? or maybe drunk dial to wonwoo and the aftermath the next day (fucking in the office)
Pairing: wonwoo x afab!reader
Genre: smut
Word count: 3.9k
tags: office au, feturin bartender!chan and coworker!mingyu, mentions of alcohol, exhibitionism, manhandling, unprotected sex, creampie, pet name
author note: hi bee ily bee, you're messed up for this bee. but im worse for producing it gdjgwkjg. anyways enjoy wonu rot
Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @homerunhansol @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @6969lilithcat @wonuhour @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro
Wonwoo is a handsome guy and it was clear as day to everyone in the office. You like having a bit of his attention. He’s funny and quite friendly with you, but that is perhaps because the first time you met you had the courage to fight with him over the last jam-filled donut in the break room. Since then, there’s never not been a reason to talk as if you’ve known each other forever.
You admit some of the socializing you’ve been having with Wonwoo is more than what you do with any other coworker, let alone friend, but you were just playing along and it was too late to go back. Besides, both of you know what this is. All this talk was simply harmless flirting, playful jokes, and lively banter. You make it clear at the end of it all that there is nothing between you and Wonwoo, that things are as platonic as two subordinates can get.
You can’t say the rest of the office believes that though, seeing as so many of them with jealous glares in your direction or the nudges from the suspecting coworkers that ‘lowkey ship’ you two together as if you were some characters in television.
“Ugh, you two make me sick. Just get together and have beautiful children already.”
You and Wonwoo shared a harmonious chuckle together, one louder in humor and it wasn’t the man dashing in a silk silver necktie.
“I wish I could, but they like to sleep on the left side even though I also sleep on the left side and I don't know how that would work,” Wonwoo knocks against your shoulder
“Not to mention he likes cats way more than dogs and the fact that we could never really be together because we’re just good coworkers.”
“Right,” he lightly punches, indicating agreement. “It’d be a really bad idea if we were actually together.”
You raise your brows, almost offended. “Woah, woah. I never said it was really bad.”
“But you were thinking about it.”
“Lover quarrel I hear?” Mingyu butts in after getting his morning joe. “They’re always at it at this time of day.”
You roll your eyes at the giant. “All I’m saying is. I and Wonwoo are good together at work. Just work. Dare I say he’s a good work husband, even if he steals the last of the pastries—“
“Will you ever let that go—“
“No—and that’s all there is everyone. Sorry to disappoint.”
The crowd gives their share of snide smirks before dispersing. Mingyu is the last to stay behind, a Cheshire smile on his face. “Sure, you two. Just keep your hands to yourself around here…if you can help it.”
You were about to throw a light kick at the man before he started scurrying off, leaving you and Wonwoo in your lonesome as always.
“They mean no harm by the way,” Wonwoo points out, “but if it bothers you that much, I can tell them to lay off.”
“Nu-uh,” you reply, shaking your head, “and make me look like a buzzkill? I don’t mind the back and forth. Just don’t anyone get the wrong idea that our jokes are actually serious?”
“Yeah, because it’d be just awful to be caught dating someone like me.”
You groan at his choice of words. “That is not what I said. Stop putting words in my mouth. This is why we wouldn’t work together.”
Wonwoo shrugs, a smile on his face that truly does brighten up a whole room. God, no wonder people think you’re dating him. What single man smiles like that? “Alright, sweet face. Fine. Who cares what they think? We know left from right, okay?” There’s a hint in his tone that says otherwise but you decide to ignore it.
“Okay, good. Anyways, what are your plans tonight? Up for another night of Valo queue?”
“I actually have plans tonight.”
“Oh?” You say wiggling your eyebrows. “Hot date?”
“Maybe? Haven’t met them yet.”
You’re playful expression fades. “Oh, actually? Wow. You must be…excited.”
He shrugs, freshening up his mug. “It’s nice to have plans outside of binge-watching TV at home, so a little bit.”
Your smile can’t seem to reach your ears until you’ve found a way to find the humor out of it. “That sounds nice. I wanna be set up—Wonwoo don’t you have any hot friends?”
Wonwoo feigns thought, clicking his tongue, now noticing the watch on his wrist. “Well, would you look at the time? Back to work.”
You sneer at him leaving you unanswered, following after him to continue the rest of your day. This is how most days went. Outside of work, you shared your personal interests with him, such as video games—perhaps adding to the assumption that you both seem very couple forward—but otherwise, that was all. There was nothing else that made you more than people who work in close proximity together, and not by your own fault either.
Despite this dynamic, Wonwoo is a private person and you only know what he lets you know. Perhaps, that’s why you are so dead set on keeping the formality the way it is. Who knows the type of person he is behind doors?
You try not to be curious about him for the sake of your circumstance, but the thought of Wonwoo and his date stays in the back of your mind, pestering you like an insect well into the afternoon until after work. That’s when you decide to hit up the local bar, grab a drink—or 5–and catch up with your favorite bartender, Chan, to see what he’s up to. He’s normally a good distraction, seeing as he can talk circles around any subject while jumping from one to the other, and you think it starts to make you forget why ever you came in the first place.
However, ‘drunk you’ does whatever the fuck they want, even if ‘sober you’ says otherwise. You seem to forget that every time you go out, perhaps because you think you’ve overcome that part of you after a while of not drinking. Truth was you haven’t.
“Hellooo…”
The dial tone plays on the other end and you continue your incessant greeting until you’re met with a familiar and confused sound. You automatically grin, clutching the device close to your ear in hopes of hearing his voice again.
“Wonwoo…are you and you having fun…”
You hear shuffling in the background, unaware it was Wonwoo checking caller ID to make sure it was you. “Are you doing okay?”
“Me? I’m great…how are you bud? Buddy? Companion? Bestie?”
“Okay. Where are you right now?”
You chortle, glancing back at Chan who is preoccupied with other customers but watching you from the corner of his eye concerned. “Hehe, I’m with a friend. A very handsome friend…”
Chan lets out a light chuckle before finishing up the drink and handing it to the person waiting. He strolls out to you, listening in on the rest of your call as he pretends to clean up glasses.
“Handsome friend?” Wonwoo repeats.
“Very handsome.”
You aren’t sure what’s going on with you, but you feel the urge to simply narrate everything around you, making sure the man on the other line hears every word.
“Is there a reason you’re calling me, Y/n?”
You hum against the phone in pondering. “Just…because. It’s you.”
“Me?”
“You.”
Chan lightly scoffs at the scene, almost seeing the pink in your eyes as you speak to whoever is on the other end and politely asks for your phone. You pout at him, denying him the device, but with a stern look, you melt into mush and soon obliged.
“Hi, you must be Y/n’s friend right? They’re at the Carat Club right now and it looks like they’ve had enough to drink.”
Wonwoo hums into the phone before responding back cautiously. “Are you the handsome friend?”
Chan grins hearing the hint of jealousy. “Why yes, I am.”
“You don’t sound that handsome.”
“Well, you can judge for yourself because I’m also the bartender here. If you aren’t too busy, I’d really appreciate you getting them home. I’ll keep an eye on them but I can only do that for so long with the rush we’re having.”
There’s a moment of silence on the phone that makes the young bartender think the calls have dropped until the gravelly voice on the other end begrudgingly agrees, quickly hanging up right after.
Chan sets the phone back to your side, doing what he’s promised to do. After some time, he recognizes Wonwoo right away by his frantic arrival and the bartender waves him over. Wonwoo scans your current state with a frown creasing his eyes. He tries shaking your sides, and see how little effect it makes.
“How much have they had to drink?”
“A couple of cocktails but by how early they’ve gotten here I assume they haven’t eaten. Best to take them home before it goes right through them.”
“Thanks,” Wonwoo, picks you up by your limp arms and supports your side in the direction of the door. When he’s out of sight, he quietly curses to himself about the accuracy of the bartender’s appearance before settling you in his passenger seat.
His goal is to get you rested and safe. Seeing as your driver's license is doctored from the city several hours from where they are, he assumes it is in need of an update, and tries to pry your address out of you. To no avail, nothing useful comes out from your drunk slurred lips and he ends up taking you to his home, dumping you on his bed, and tucking you in.
You don’t remember anything after the third drink: making that call to Wonwoo, or the debacle of trying to get you home, or his persistence in climbing up the flight of stairs in his own home with the extra body weight. You can only assume the worst when you wake up the following day in a foreign bedroom; your internal alarm was clock accurate as always. You jump from the sheets in pure fear, scanning your surroundings for an owner, when you realize you still have the clothes you wore to work the day before.
Promptly, Wonwoo walks towards the bedroom you occupy from the wide open door and greet you, a smile on his face. “Good, you’re up. Work is in an hour, I’ll get you there.”
“Wonwoo, where am I?”
“My place. I would’ve taken you home if you had been more cooperative.”
It takes your eyes some adjusting but you soon realize the lack of clothing on his body, warranting the smooth, broad, and muscular appearance of a Jeon Wonwoo you wouldn’t dare dream of. You gulp at the sight taking it in before hearing him chuckle as he crosses his arms to obscure the view, forcing your eyes on his face that was bare of the thick pair of metal frames you are used to. Instead, you see his eyes, overflowing with warmth you worry you’d stumble upon seeing them. “Extra bathroom at the other end of the hall. I can lend you a shirt.”
“T-thanks.” You say before he disappears in order to get ready for another day.
You quickly finish what needed to be done, taking advantage of the oversized shirt Wonwoo left you behind and somehow making it work. Soon enough you’re off to the office, in his passenger, only time sober and a lot more self-conscious.
“Did I do or say anything weird?”
He lets out a deep, familiar chuckle. “Depends. What’s your definition of weird?”
You try thinking of an answer but none would come up, having you change your mind about getting his prompt response.
“If it’s any consolation, you didn’t get sick like I thought you would, and you were mostly asleep.”
“That just means I was a mess,” You whine.
“Perhaps, but nothing I couldn’t handle.”
“Wait, what about your date? Don’t tell me you—“
“She canceled and I had nothing going on. You called at a good time.”
“I called you?” You question him in bemusement.
“Like I said, nothing I couldn’t handle.”
His repeating that phrase does something the chemical in your brain, retracing the dents of his torso as if they’re right in front you, glistening against the sun rays peaking out of the windows. The smile on his face makes your heart pound a little harder than you’re used to, and now you’re noticing the veins on his hands as he grips the wheel.
You feel yourself swallow. Hand to heart, you pat down as if trying to manually regulate it, but ultimately fail as Wonwoo continues to speak. This must be the embarrassment talking.
“For a second, I thought you called me to confess your undying love for me or something.”
“What?” You ask laughing a little too hard, for once grasping the humor in the situation with difficulty. “Why would you think that?”
“For one, you were drunk. It seemed likely.” He clears his throat, trying to focus on the road. “And maybe that’s what I wanted to hear.”
Those words settle into you like hot cement, frustratingly slow, and before you finally answer, you’re already back at work, following Wonwoo as you leave the car. When both obviously arrive together, the usual attention has multiplied by tenfold, and the treatment feels different than normal. More flustering a suffocating after the night you’ve had. Wonwoo is the only one to notice as he calmly escorts you to your cubicles, leaving the questions of your coworkers unanswered.
You aren't sure why they’re comments are getting you like this now, making you feel hot, hands clasped against your cheeks like a bashful child, but it bothers you throughout the day, forcing you to keep mostly to yourself. Its then Wonwoo, sends you a note, meeting him for lunch alone knowingly while everyone else planned a meal out. You hesitantly oblige to his request and when the time came around, it’s unexpectantly timid, awkward, and nerve-wracking. That’s not how monets with Wonwoo are supposed to go.
“You’ve been quiet.”
You bow you head. “Sorry.”
“Why are you being sorry?”
“I didn’t think I was bothering anyone.”
You don’t see it, but he rolls his eyes.“Well, you were bothering me. Talk to me, joke around with me, be mean to me I don’t know. The silence is annoying me.”
“...I’m sorry.”
“Apologizing again? Look at me.”
It was difficult given the predicament you’re in, but he forces you to anyways by lifting up your chin between his fingers. You watch a dark storm brew in his eyes and now you can’t bare to tear away.
“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong now?”
You don’t get it. For the past year, you’ve known him, there's only ever been amicable looks or gregarious smiles at a maximum, but in the deep pit of your stomach bubbles a new sensation that has finally festered enough to rise to the surface. You clench your legs in instinct, eyes fluttering back at him as you let each breath take a slow turn.
Intuitive as always, Wonwoo sees that shift in your eyes. It’s disturbing, daunting, and tempting all at once and he decides he can’t take it anymore.
With the break room wall behind you, he pushes you against it, claiming your lips and body until there is no way of escaping. His lips are soft against yours, but moves languidly and impatient, and the grip of his hands on your hips drains the energy out of your lower body. You attempt to chase his vigor, hands against your neck as you suppress your moans at how he kneads your flesh through your slacks only to press your thigh to his side.
“So I’m what’s wrong?” He asks in a low rasp against your lips.
You naturally hold him by the back of his neck, his nose nuzzling against yours. Wonwoo feels your lips part to speak, but he is in a daze by how soft they felt only seconds ago. “You are far from what’s wrong,” you finally answer.
Ridding of inhibitions and doubt, Wonwoo opens the storage closet behind you and shoves you in to lock you both inside. His hands run up your body needily, desperate to taste the skin underneath the shirt you’ve borrowed. You help him undress the same way he does to you, and your pristine pressed Van Hausens fall near your feet like rubble.
His lips then fall underneath your chin, trailing your neck, he refrains from leaving too much pressure but is almost swayed by your natural scent mixed in with his shampoo. He roughly plants you against a mostly empty shelf, the ice cold metal somehow burning your skin. He helps you tug off your slacks finding that sopping cunt that’s been dying to have him discover them since this morning.
“For me? Just for me?” He wastes no time shoving his hand down the frail fabric of your underwear and gliding his thick digits over your wet slit. “I don’t know if I can keep my hands to myself this time.”
Your voice reveals itself, saying his name in a way you wouldn’t dare let another person hear as long as you lived. He repeats the action, watching you crumble in front of him like award-winning cinema.
“I never heard you speak like that to me. I could get used to it.” He find your ear, his cat-like smile forming before his lips closes around your skin and his whispers cause the ripples of chills down your spine. “Say my name like that again for me, darling.”
You tremble under his touch, feeling his fingers dip into your heat enticingly. “Won…wooo…”
He lets out a soft and gentle moan, and the heat of his breath fans your pebbled skin. “Such a pretty little thing. I’ve dreamt how you’d be like this for me so often.”
“You…have?”
He presses a lingering kiss on your neck. “More than I can be proud of.” He curls his digits before taking light jerks, his thumb rubbing your arousal around the circumference of your clit. He drinks in your pretty pants, teeth grazing back at your skin. “You like me touching you? Aren’t I being such a good work husband?”
Your eyes screw shit, mouth etching open to give him a well-deserved praise, “So goo—“
“Where are my keys,” a voice breaks outside the door.
Wonwoo seizes his fingers from you and clamps them over your mouth, your arousal basically coating your lips and his eyes staring back at you intently.
“Where did they go anyway?”
Wonwoo shushes you with pursed lips. “Better be quiet.” His tone is stern but his actions say otherwise as his zipper comes down in a fraction of a second. “It’s in our best interest not to get caught, right?”
His name muffles under his palm, squeezing the life out of your cheeks as he exposes the bulging cock that’s been fighting away at him since he kissed you. Your eyes dart in their direction, beading perspiration across your forehead, and you feel yourself clench around nothing as his cock draws closer to your fluttering heat.
Your eyes double their size and then shrink to half the size once he’s inside you. His raw, long heat pushes into your core inch by inch, and you feel the necessary evil to bite down his palm. If Wonwoo was bothered by it, he doesn’t show it as he claims you with deep strokes, having your hands rest against his firm pectorals in reluctant trust. His low grunts can only be heard by you and the slight fog in his glasses is apparent the closer he thrust into you, even in the dim closet lighting,
Outside these walls still is a confused Mingyu, not foreseeing the event occurring behind a door mere feet away. “Maybe, they went somewhere else for lunch.”
You audibly squeak within the tight space and Wonwoo shushes you again, knocking back into with a curt but harsh slam before forcing your walls to hold his cock inside you like a natural plug. “You’re gonna get us in trouble, darling. I’m not done with you yet.” An accumulated thrill runs through your veins at the thought of being caught, taking every thrust with pressure and liquifying at the devious smile on your rumored boyfriend’s face.
“No they’re not here,” the intruder says to a voice unheard from their distance. “…Coming!”
His footsteps noticeably scan the perimeter once last time before they retreated further and further away.
“Finally,” Wonwoo breathes out, “now I have you all to myself.” Although he states that, he doesn’t let go of your mouth, in fact, you swear his hand is getting tighter and now his face closer, finally processing the spearmint on his breath “We should still be careful. Can you be quiet for me?”
You quietly nodded, grasping at his body desperately, gesturing for him to keep going.
He scoffs. “My darling being impatient?” He pulls out almost his entire length before shoving back into you, earning a feeble tremble. “My. Cock. Making. You. Needy. Hm?”
You nod back at him, holding back your tears, nails digging into his shoulder blades.
“Eyes on me, darling. Your work husband is need of your attention while I fuck you senseless.”
Shallow breaths escape your nostrils, finally meeting his eyes, which seemed to have lost the thick barrier of his glasses somehow already set on the shelf behind him. “Would you like for me to cum in you?”
You gingerly nod.
“Will you listen to everything I say when I let go of your mouth?”
Like a glitch, you nod the same exact way.
“Such a good little darling.”
His cock fills you up as naturally as breathing does. While his lips are home against yours, tongue entangling to the point it becomes sex itself. Your hushed moans are music to his ears and bear motive as his cock plunges deeper and harder inside you. He doesn’t mind how you bit his lips, nor how your nails drag against his back, rather he revels in it, doubling over you to push his cock inside you deeper until you're unable to contain your screams and he’s forced to silence you again.
You whisper how you’re close and it’s a natural drug, encouraging him to only ram inside you and claim the sweet sound of your orgasm coating decadently around his cock. He handles it rather gentlemanly, fairly as his cock is next to ripple in climax, shooting his thick over churned honey until it fills your heat until the point of fully occupancy. His arms come around you in a firm grasp, bruising your lips until you’re imprinted with the memory of him.
You let out light pants, awkwardly thanking his promptly done tasks before you’re whisked away again by his perfect, salvia-sheened lips. “That was very…superb.”
Strange adjective but it’s done the job, you think.
“I’m glad you think so,” he chuckles in a way that tells you things are far from over and you’re proven correct when he brings up your legs, thighs crushing his cheeks that splays the most impish smile. “But we still have 15 minutes of our lunch and a man’s gotta eat.”
Part of my 3K Follower StayCation!!!
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Happy birthday Dean Winchester! Here's a quick one-shot I whipped up to celebrate.
This also fulfils the 'Plus Size' square of my @spnaubingo 2023 bingo card, even though it's 2024... I'm late, I know, but I still want to do some more of it!
Pairing: Dean Winchester x plus sized!reader
Words: 1.6k
Warnings: Couple of crap comments from a random, some not-great self-esteem and a drunk character, but nothing particularly bad.
Synopsis: A man you're interviewing makes some crap comments about your body, and Dean doesn't help. Can he make it up to you?
Supernatural writing masterlist
“Which one’s the father?” The sleazy guy joked. My stomach dropped.
“Excuse me?!”
“Oh, it’s alright love, I know the real father’s probably suffering somewhere alone while you’re off gallivanting with your workmates. I’m surprised he lets you out, really.”
The urge to punch the witness we were interviewing was overwhelming. Rather than ruin the case, I turned on my heel and marched out.
Fuck that guy. I’m not pregnant and I’m not screwing either of the Winchesters.
I heard Dean’s FBI agent tone of voice as he started speaking behind me. Great to see they were all just moving on with their lives, I thought sarcastically.
---
📱 Where are you? We’re going to the next witness’s house
A text came in from Dean. I read it but didn’t reply.
📱 You ok?
I sighed. Finally, he asks.
📱 Fine. I’ll catch up with you later
I replied. He sent me a thumbs up, I rolled my eyes.
I kicked at the ground and started the walk back into town. Sam and Dean would probably try and make me feel better, but I knew that wasn’t happening. I looked down at my soft, flabby belly that I’d tried multiple times to lose.
I walked.
---
I felt a bit absurd, getting tipsy this early. It wasn’t that I felt like I had to drink to get over the comment. It was just that I’d gotten back to the motel room and was feeling a bit morose, and there was nothing to do. I’d tapped out of the case and I was bored. I went for another wander and this stupid town had nothing in it but a pub, and so somehow I’d ended up here, starting drinking a lot earlier than normal.
And now I looked like I was drinking my feelings, when I wasn’t.
Not that there was anyone looking at me anyway.
Well, except in disgust. Who knew how many more people in here thought I was pregnant too. Probably thought I was harming an unborn baby, right now.
Fuck them.
---
“You know there’s still a monster on the loose?” Dean said gruffly, a frown on his face. I guess it’d been easy to find me given how few things there were in this town.
“You struggling without me?” I didn’t think I was slurring too much, but his expression did not improve when I started talking.
“How you going to fight one off like this?” he gestured to me.
“You think a few drinks are why I’m fat?” I said sarcastically.
“I’m not calling you fat, I’m calling you drunk.”
“Right,” I said with an eyeroll.
“Come on, get in the car,” he said, trying to tug my arm.
“Fuck off Dean! I can drink if I want to. There’s nothing else to do in this shithole, anyway.”
He dropped my arm and stomped off to the bar.
I turned back to my drink. Sam came and sat opposite me. You can’t escape the bloody Winchesters.
“Hey, you ok?” he asked with his puppy dog eyes.
“I’m fine. I had a free afternoon, I came to get a drink. Is that fucking crime now?”
“I meant about what happened with the guy. You seemed pretty upset.”
“Surprised you could see that, you were both so busy being silent.”
“Didn’t you hear Dean?”
“How could I hear Dean when he wasn’t saying anything?”
“No, he laid right into the guy.”
“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better. I heard Dean get right back into his FBI voice as I walked off.”
“Yeah, he was still in character at first, told the guy that he needed to speak respectfully to Agents. And then when the guy was still a douche he got a bit more Dean and threatened to punch his lights out if he didn’t shut up about you.”
I laughed into my drink. I was sure Sam was embellishing, there was just no way Dean would care that much about someone being mean to me.
Speak of the devil, Dean appeared again, tumbler of whiskey in one hand and a glass of water in the other. He put the water in front of me.
“Thanks, but I don’t accept drinks from strangers,” I said sarcastically.
“I’m not having you hung over tomorrow and being a liability to the case, drink the water.”
“I don’t remember electing you.”
“Jesus, you’re even more belligerent when drunk. Just drink the water and stop moping.”
“I’m not moping!”
“The guy was an asshole, no one thinks you look pregnant. But you can’t just drink yourself blotto and get yourself killed every time someone says something mean to you.”
I stood up, grabbed the glass of water and upended it all over Dean’s face. Then I marched out the door.
The effect was a little ruined by my drunken stagger, though.
---
Sam caught my arm as I got outside. “Come on, I’ll drive you home.”
“I walked myself here, I can walk myself home!”
“I’m pretty sure you were walking in a straight line when you got here though. Come on.”
I let him tug me to the Impala. He must’ve grabbed the keys off Dean before chasing after me.
“He’s just worried about you,” he said gently as we were exiting the carpark. “Doesn’t want you getting hurt.”
“That does not give him a free pass to behave like that.”
---
Dean stood over me, a glass of water and a couple of painkillers in his hands. “Morning, sunshine. Need some relief?”
I gratefully reached out. Man, I did not normally drink that much.
“What time is it?”
“Time to work the case.”
I groaned, “Can’t you do it without me?”
“No, come on, back on the horse.”
“It’s not the horse that’s the problem, it’s the dog that bit me.”
“I did tell you to drink water,” he said smugly.
“Fuck off!” I threw my pillow at him. He easily deflected but wisely left me alone after that.
I groaned and got off the couch I’d been sleeping on, slumping to the bathroom. The boys were sitting around the tiny table, already dressed and looking at their laptops.
Sam was gone when I came out, freshly showered, dressed and feeling slightly more human. I looked at Dean with a clear question on my face.
“He’s gone for coffee, thought you could use some.”
“Thanks.”
“I, uh,” Dean continued, more hesitantly, “I owe you an apology.”
I crossed my arms across my chest. An apology from Dean was a rare thing, but I was wary it was going to end up being a backhanded insult instead. I often felt like I needed to protect my heart from being hurt by him.
“I was worried about you getting hurt when I saw you were drunk. But I just tried to solve the problem, I didn’t actually talk to you, and I,” he paused, biting his lip, “I shouldn’t do that.”
“Nice to see I’m just a problem,” I replied sarcastically. I wasn’t sure why he was riling me so much, but I still felt so hurt and angry.
He stood up and came over to me. “You’re not a problem,” he said quietly, trying to look into my eyes. I ducked my head away from the intensity of his look. “And I am sorry that asshat upset you.”
“I didn’t get drunk just because some guy called me pregnant, you know.” I could hear how defensive I sounded, despite my best efforts not to.
“It’s a shitty thing he did anyway. You’re beautiful.”
I laughed mirthlessly.
“Don’t do that,” he said quietly. “Don’t put yourself down all the time.”
“Dean, your idea of beautiful is tall, thin, busty and great hair.”
“That’s not true.”
“Well, they’re all thin at least.”
“Who are ‘they’?”
“The women you sleep with, the women you hit on.”
“I can think of many women I’ve hit on who aren’t ‘thin’, it doesn’t matter to me.”
“Suuuure,” I said with an eye roll.
“But I haven’t hit on many women lately, been distracted by one in particular.”
“Let me guess, beautiful?”
“Absolutely.”
“My point exactly. It’s ok Dean, you don’t have to ma-” Dean’s fingers found my chin, nudging it up so I would like at him.
“You’re beautiful,” he said, looking deep into my eyes. “I’m sorry I haven’t made you feel it.”
I stared at him, mouth agape. Absolutely stunned into silence.
“And I’m sorry again that I was a bit of a dick yesterday.”
His face came even closer, watching my reactions.
“You’re my weak spot,” he whispered.
“No, I’m not.” I put my hands on his chest, “Dean, this isn’t funny, don’t tease me.”
He dropped his hand from my chin, looking hesitant. “Sweetheart, I’m putting my heart on the line here, I’m not teasing.”
My hands slackened.
He edged a tiny bit forward.
His tongue darted out and back in. I couldn’t stop staring at his lips.
Was this even real?
How was this happening?
His hand came up to cup my cheek.
I leant forward.
The world suddenly sped up again. Dean moved in, closing the gap between us and bringing his lips to mine. I lost myself in the tenderness of his touch, the softness of his lips, the exploration of his tongue and mine.
A sudden noise made us pull apart. Sam was standing in the doorway, cardboard holder with coffees in one hand and the other on his hip.
“I’m happy for you guys and all, but we still have a case to work. You can pick this up later.”
.
.
.
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Friends w/ Benefits !!
- with the South Park Boys / x Reader
|| NSFW HC’S & SCENARIOS ||
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Author’s Note ;
Sup, so I decided on making multiple little scenarios and ideas of what I think would happen if you were in a FWB relationship with these dudes. Trust me, it’s going to get spicy and interesting. And if you’re looking for that, you’ve come to the right place. Keep in mind, the characters are all going to be in their college years so they will be 18+. Not trying to have them in elementary. And if you’re near that age, get out of here kid, this is definitely not for you.
Before I make this too long, I’m going to end this here. Enjoy, tread carefully, I’ll add warnings about what’s in there and details so check that out before you dive too far in. Unless you’re a veteran. HAHAHA
P.S, I didn’t add in Cartman because I’m an AVID hater, I’m sorry in advance! But, I did add somebody I adore: Craig! Although, it’s kinda gay, but that’s for the boys or transmascs. Y’know, I gotta provide!
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Point of View : First P.O.V.
Character’s in here : Stan Marsh, Kyle Broflovski, Kenny McCormick, and Craig Tucker.
╒══════════════════════╕
#1 ; Stan Marsh
The song that I thought fit this best :
Sexual Dynamic : Fem!Dom | Masc!Sub
What’s in here : Mentions of throwing-up (obviously), dom fem reader, edging, and drunk oral sex.
┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈
- Phew, this dude will take FOREVER before he comes around to this idea.
- I feel like this would be the case of not trying to move too fast into a relationship because let’s be honest, he’s going to want to end up being with you.
- He’ll have met you during class when assigned a project with you. A bit cliché, but do you think he’d really have the guts to randomly walk up to you?
- You’d end up in conversations with him because of the constant pairing together and this helped the both of you find out you had similar interests. He loved the same genre of music, had the same sense of humor, and made you laugh half of the time because of his stupid jokes.
- Eventually, Stan tried to see you whenever he was free and his friends weren’t tagging behind. A lot of this was during your walk to classes.
- He’d have to race to his right after and sometimes even arrived late because of you.
- Wendy was the first to get suspicious of the behavior because it’s her ex after all and she wasn’t done with her constant off-and-on relationship with him.
- They got into a huge fight about it and that ended up putting the idea in Stan’s head instead. (Poor Wendy. Happens to the best of us.)
- Might’ve caused a complete break-up between them.
- First time he didn’t go goth because of it! (Really, it’s because of you.)
- But, that didn’t mean he didn’t drink.
- And that also didn’t include the fact he was beginning to think of you in that way which in turn made him began to avoid you.
- His races to his classes turned into him racing out of the classes he had with you to the bathroom.
- After a couple of weeks of him doing this, you concluded it had to do something with Wendy, but you thought he was distancing himself to get her back.
- The depression hit hard. Despite you having an attraction towards him, you tried to convince yourself you were okay.
- You WEREN’T.
- Neither was he. He had to choose between telling you about his feelings or being an asshole by ditching you to get himself plastered enough so he could forget about it. Mind you, he thought he was deep in the friendzone. To him, telling you the truth was setting himself up for rejection.
- You were both oblivious to each other’s suffering until the two of you were invited to the same party.
- Because you were having such a hard time dealing with the random drift from Stan, you decided to go and feel your best by getting dressed up.
- Alcohol was another convincing factor. Ironic considering that was the same reason why he was going.
- When you arrived at the party, you navigated around and talked with a couple of friends before asking where the drinks were. That’s where you would stumble upon the drunk raven-haired boy with a vodka bottle that had been chugged by him to the very middle.
┈┈┈┈┈┈ ✧ Start of Scenario ✧ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈
Stan laid back against the wall of the kitchen, taking another swig of the vodka he had, and reaching up to slap a hand against the counter when his eyes locked with yours. He slowly lifted himself up, swaying like he was about to collapse any second. “Oh fuck, why’d you have to be here? I think I’m going to be sick,” he covered his mouth while loudly exclaiming that, turning to the side as if he was retching.
You automatically looked offended, your face scrunching up before you reared a hand back and slapped him across the cheek. HARD. That knocked the sense back into him because his eyes went wide and he quickly went to explaining himself, “Ow! OW! Hey, wait! No- *gag* It’s not because you’re terrible or anything! It’s cause-”
He couldn’t finish as once he looked down at your outfit, he sprawled straight for the sink, and puked his brains out. That’s when it clicked in your head. Stan threw up whenever he liked someone.
You stared at the bottle he held, freaking out in your thoughts about the situation, and going for it anyway. It wasn’t hard to take it out of his hold as he was focused on getting all the sick out of himself.
Taking a huge chug of the vodka, you coughed and sputtered when swallowing, wiping the sides of your mouth before grabbing the back of Stan’s shirt. He was dragged upstairs while you were finishing the rest of what was left, throwing the bottle on the floor afterward.
He slurred out what he was trying to say earlier as you both ascended to the next floor, “I’m not disgusted by you.! I like-” But, once again, he was cut off by another rise of bile up his throat. Right when you passed by the bathroom, he pulled away from you, making you follow with him before he toppled over the side of the tub to let it out.
“Jesus Christ, Stan. What is wrong with you?” You asked, concerned for his well-being at this point. He leaned his head to the side, spitting the rest, and turning on the shower to wash it away. Then he got up with a wobble. For the third time, he continued to try and explain, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m just trying to tell you that I don’t get sick because I think you’re nasty. I’ve been trying to tell you that I think you’re-”
His face began to scrunch up and that’s when you stepped in, saying it for him with a yell, “I KNOW! I know, Marsh! I know you like me! I like you just as much, you don’t have to say it, you don’t have to acknowledge anything about this! Just stop and go back to Wendy like you have been!” Backing away, you put your hands up and closed your eyes, worried about the inevitable stream of disgusting stomach acid. But, nothing happened.
Instead, the sound of water met your ears and you opened your eyes to see the boy washing his mouth out. His blue eyes met yours, turning off the faucet, and standing back up to clear his throat, “I’ve been trying to say that for weeks now.” It was like a light switch had flipped in his demeanor and he was all of a sudden fine.
Stan continued, sounding a bit raspy because of how much he threw up, “I haven’t talked to Wendy ever since I had walked you to your house. That was the day I realized I… like you.” He hesitated but he managed to say it, looking surprised himself. You paused. It made sense. Around that time, his avoiding started.
There were no words you could give in the moment. You thought this entire time he had been chasing her while in reality, he was hooked on you. Nothing came out and no idea of what to say came to mind. He had officially broke you.
Moving forward slowly, his gaze flickered down to your lips, giving you the signal before leaning into a kiss due to his compulsive and drunk desires. If you weren’t going to tell him anything, he’d get you to respond in another way. Your lips were turning numb along with the rest of your body as you could feel yourself falling down the rabbit hole of a stupor. A part of you was slightly repulsed by the fact he was kissing you after all that happened, but he mostly tasted like the disgusting vodka rather than puke. Which was surprising to say the least.
It didn’t lead to a make-out as you moved to your knees instead, closing the bathroom door behind you, and hearing him lock it with a shaky voice following after, “Fuck, wait, I don’t want to end up getting sick on you. I’ve barely been able to get past a kiss, let alone a touch there. I don’t know if I could handle this.” He rambled and rambled while you unbuttoned his jeans, feeling his dick progressively getting hard already.
A sharp gasp left him when your fingers brushed passed it through his boxers, causing him to hold his breath while still trying to get through to you, “Seriously, [Y/N], I might throw up again!” You sighed and stood back up after his second warning, placing your hand on his chest to ease him down onto the toilet seat. He sat upright, his eyebrows knitted together as you finally responded, “If you do, aim for the tub or sink. I get horny when drunk and I don’t think I want to stop any time soon, Stanley.”
You went right back to getting on your knees in front of him and wrapped your hand around his shaft to jerk it off through the fabric, seeing a small dot of pre-cum began to form around where his tip was. He could feel the warm nauseating feeling travel up his esophagus, making him panic, and move his head to the side to avoid getting it on her while you traveled to get his underwear off of him. Wendy had never done something like this to him before. As soon as he vomited around her, she was quick to lose her appetite for it.
This was different. He felt himself bare and exposed after you succeeded in getting his lower clothes down to his knees. And this was the point where he was feeling it fill his cheeks, he tried to suppress it as much as he could, swallowing it and enduring it. It was like his body was going through an anxiety attack and all it was doing was constantly sending him in this cycle of emptying his stomach because of simple things he should be allowed to do as a man.
He didn’t have an answer to what was wrong with him, but what he did know was that it pissed him the fuck off. Regaining his strength, his hand reached up to your head and he requested something directly to you for the first time without one slightest hesitation, “Please, just keep encouraging me beautiful… and can you keep calling me by my- uh- full name?”
You gave his flushed pink tip kisses, swiping your tongue slowly across it before obliging to his ask while pumping his dick with one hand, “You’re doing an amazing job, Stanley. I’m so proud of you… Is that what you wanted? Does that make you feel good, my handsome boy?” A sly smirk spread onto her face as she looked up to see his shocked expression, wrapping her entire mouth around him and hollowing her cheeks.
Never in a million years would he think that a girl would hit dead on the spot of what he needed, jolts of pleasure running through his legs and lower stomach at the comments. Butterflies plagued him rather than nausea. And what he had been waiting for was happening, he was relaxing into a blowjob.
His hands went for her hair immediately to lace his fingers in between whatever he could, gripping it gently while the relief showed through his half-lidded eyes and his happy pants. Stan let out a choked moan along with an excited but still cracking voice, “I don’t feel.. it! God, this is.. actually amazing… Please, please don’t stop… Keep going, [Y/N]!”
Bobbing your head up and down patiently, you picked up your pace minute by minute, watching as the boy lost it at the feeling. You were too good to him. Your suction on him was tight and you made sure your cheeks were pressed up against your teeth just enough to create the best possible experience for him.
Stan’s chin tilted up to the ceiling while curses spilled, “Fuck, fuck, why do you… have to feel so good?” You could see veins popping around his neck and his Adam’s apple moving up and down from the noises escaping him. His legs were starting to move inward towards themselves, knees about to touch, and his dick was beginning to throb in your mouth. You knew what this meant right away.
“I’m not going to be able to make it for that long if you feel this amazing, god damn it,” he choked out, his fingers digging into your scalp, but not on purpose. To solve this, you popped your mouth off of him and decided to use the time for his cool down to catch your breath.
He looked at you, confused and flustered, his dick inches away from your face. It was twitching and the pre-cum kept leaking because of how pent up he was. You snickered, “I thought you were going to get sick on me? Am I the first one you haven’t vomited on?”
Staring at you for a moment while catching his breath too, he fixed his messy hair, and shakily replied, “Yeah, technically.” You raised your eyebrows before smiling bashfully like that was a compliment. And maybe it was. But, you shouldn’t get too ahead of yourself.
Returning back to the activity at hand, you littered the sides of him with kisses, turning your focus to the veins wrapping around it which received a lot of feedback from him. “Woah, woah! Straight to it, huh?” His groans were amplified. It was like he got ten times more sensitive because you edged him.
It didn’t take much of you going back to sucking him to cause his orgasm rushing back. He was teetering on the edge, using the counter and anything else that he could grab on to vent by digging his fingernails into them.
Tears brimmed his eyes and he didn’t want to tell you that he was near, but he also didn’t want you to have a risk of choking. So, he confessed again, “I’m going to! I’m going to, you can stop…” He didn’t know why you were teasing him like this. But, for some reason, he enjoyed it too.
This time, you didn’t pull away. You picked up your pace instead. And that made him nearly knock off everything on the counter. He instinctively stood up, grabbing your head, and in the last final minute he had your mouth wrapped around him; he fucked hard into your throat and let out the cum he had been penting up since the last time he got to interact with you.
The groans that left him were loud and breathy, his eyes almost closing from how tired he got because of the amount of alcohol that was in his system. You were swallowing as much as you could to keep yourself from possibly throwing up yourself due to choking.
Eventually, every bit was dumped out of him and he pulled you off to let you breathe. You gasped for air and glared at him. Stan realizing what he did then and apologizing right away, “Oh crap, I didn’t mean to do that! I was trying to be careful, I’m so sorry!”
Proceeding to apologize to you for the rest of the night after that, the two of you had returned to walking each other home, feeling a long in your heart to remain by each other’s sides when you had to return to your separate dorm rooms. One thing was for certain though. You and Stan were going to have a lot of secrets that the title friends could only cover.
┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ✧ End of Scenario ✧ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈
════════════════════════
#2 ; Kyle Broflovski
The song that I thought fit this best :
Sexual Dynamic : Vanilla-esque.
What's in here : Slow sex, slightly experienced Kyle, and facial ejaculation.
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- Oh no. Here we go. Now, Kyle, he’s a different story when it comes to getting into a friendship like this.
- He’d probably be easier to convince than Stan, but that’s if you were direct and honest with him.
- You’d have to be somewhat close with him enough to get to that conversation so I would say about five months into meeting him through mutual friends at the lunch tables. At some point, both of you would come across each other and have an in-depth conversation.
- He’s a sucker for intellectual people so once you’re bringing up your collections of books and the fact you make regular visits to the library, this guy’s interest shoots through the roof.
- Eventually, you’re the only thing he starts talking about with his friends and they all start to notice him drifting off in daydreams during class.
- This was about a couple of weeks into the friendship.
- The nerd just couldn’t stop eyeballing you. It didn’t help that he really admired your style and the way you dressed as well.
- Stan pulled him to the side one day to have a talk with him about you and he managed to convince the curly redhead to ask you to hangout at his place.
- The idea was that he was going to watch a whole marathon of Harry Potter movies with you considering the two of you were huge fans of the series.
- You were immediately down as soon as he asked. If anything, you were cheering to yourself about it.
- Now, you could put your plan in action.
- The truth was that you had thought of the Broflovski in many ways that would be considered beyond unholy.
- And the fact his parents were going out for the weekend you were coming over too did not help the ideas popping up in your head.
- When it came upon the day you were coming over, you decided to put on your sexiest outfit yet.
- A short tennis skirt, a laced spaghetti-strapped crop top, and a pair of thigh highs was enough to do the trick.
- You arrived at his place a couple of minutes early but just enough to where you didn’t look crazy, secretly wearing nothing underneath on purpose for him.
- He had paid Stan to babysit Ike for him that day too.
- You were not the only one plagued with not-so-innocent thoughts the entire week leading up to it. Kyle had some things planned out in his head as well. Technically, a mutual agreement without saying a word.
- Kyle was fast in opening the door for you and once he saw what you were in, the red on his face was more than visible.
- Obviously, he couldn’t hide the fact he was staring and definitely interested in the sight you were giving him.
- He locked every lock on that door as soon as you got inside.
┈┈┈┈┈┈ ✧ Start of Scenario ✧ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈
You hopped onto his couch the moment the warmth of the house enveloped you, causing you to sigh in content. The freezing temperatures of South Park made it impossible for a girl to get pretty but you weren’t letting that stop you. Your eyes landed back on Kyle who was dressed in a green long sleeve and brown pants.
His outfit was super cute, less risqué than yours, however, that did not matter. He still looked like a snack to you. And you were already willing to lunge for him. But, you kept your distance. For now.
The boy sat next to you and relaxed into the cushions along with, being the one to break the silence by complimenting what you were wearing, “I swear, you choose outfits that fit you too well sometimes.” Benefits of talking to a guy with brains was the way they word things. “You’re not helping my barely growing teenage brain here,” he added on as a joke. A part of you knew that he wasn’t entirely bluffing though.
This was proven when you glanced down at his lap to check if there was a sign and sure enough, a rising tent had appeared.
Kyle, quick to notice things, saw that you had peeked and grabbed for a pillow to sit it over his crotch. Embarrassed that he didn’t think of doing that as soon as his mind went south.
But, you weren’t going to ignore that. You couldn’t. Your eagerness was too much for you and the heat between your legs was screaming for you to get to moving. So, you huffed out, “I don’t think I want to help. I’m here for encouragement…” While scooting yourself to replace the pillow on his lap with your ass instead.
He tensed up, sucking a breath in, and using his hands to grip your hips. You could feel his boner poking your inner thigh, about to brush the spot you wanted it to the most which got you even more excited.
Kyle was just as excited, jabbering on as soon as you pressed down into him, “I was hoping you would say that. I didn’t think I could just be friends with you as much as I wouldn’t like to admit that…” His hips bucked upward into you repeatedly, rocking himself into a position where his hard-on could rub against you perfectly. Your eyes widened and a moan slipped out.
The front of his pants was starting to get wet from grinding up into your bare pussy, causing him to notice, and ask, “Are you wearing anything under that?” You shook your head no while biting your lip, moving one of your hands to grab your breast and the other to lift up your skirt.
He watched what you were doing with an aroused look to his green eyes, staring at your chest often. This gave you the idea to strip off your top and throw it to the floor.
What a good idea it was because it made Kyle leap to tug his pants off. His boxers followed with and out sprang his dick, hitting his chest from how hard it got. The freckled boy panted, a blush everywhere on his body, matching the color of his hair. He was unbelievably attractive like this.
You leaned down next to his ear to whisper while grabbing his shaft, “I’ve been wanting you inside me ever since Sophomore year.” Before pushing it inside of you and lowering yourself all the way down until you were sitting right on his v-line.
He shuddered and gripped onto you tightly, digging his head back into the couch from the pleasure that rushed through him at the warm, wet feeling wrapping around.
“You should’ve said something because I would’ve made that come true,” he said. That was the last thing that was spoken as the two of you got lost in sex. You began to bounce on him and he guided you to grind during the process. Your eyes drifting everywhere, going from dazing off at the wall, to looking at him without a single thought in the world other than how good he was making you feel.
Kyle was in the same state. Admiring you by skimming his hands across your sides and using his fingers to play with your nipples. After riding him for a couple of minutes and starting to sweat from the workout it was giving you, he flipped you to rest back onto the armrest.
He slowly rocked his dick into you, pushing into your walls, and digging for spots that made you gasp. His groans ended up being muffled into your neck as he buried himself in the crook of it, kissing against your skin, and creating hickies once he traveled enough.
During his slow fucking, he drifted his thumb over to your clit and rubbed it at a good pace that matched his thrusts. It had you constricting yourself around him until you were a shaking mess, cumming underneath his figure, and riding out the high with him.
The green-eyed boy pulled out when you finished, jerking himself off at a fast speed, and asking politely, “Can you open your mouth and level with it please?” Without hesitation, you lowered yourself to his dick and let him release all over your face.
You stuck your tongue out, feeling the sticky liquid decorate most of it before you swallowed the bit that landed there, looking up at him with a smile.
Both of you had to clean up more than watch movies after that, but that did not matter to you, whatsoever. The only thing that mattered from that point was the next weekend you had to plan with the Broflovski.
┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ✧ End of Scenario ✧ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈
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#3 ; Kenny McCormick
The song that I thought fit this best :
Sexual Dynamic : Masc!Dom | Fem!Sub
What’s in here : Praise/ degrading kink, lots and lots of positions, public sex, and a creampie.
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- Well, well, well. What most of you’ve been waiting for. The guy that obviously will take no time in making you his fuck buddy!
- It’s pretty obvious that right away he made his intentions clear and he communicated them with no problem.
- And that’s exactly why you were into him.
- Kenny has an eye for girls that like to have a fun time and you happened to be one with a big reputation of rebellion.
- You loved ditching class, hating the kids, the work being too stressful, and all of the above was the reason why.
- And he was often caught back there as well. So, sooner or later, you came across each other on one of your breaks from the shitty school environment and took it together.
- Might have ended up in the mutual agreement of being FWB’s right then and there which lead to you giving the boy his first non-std infected blowjob.
- The thing that had gotten in your way, however, was the fact you had strict parents and this meant you had no way of getting out of the house to meet up with him.
- To make things worse and add the cherry on top, this started around the end of the school year and the both of you ended up having no way to contact each other because of this.
- Those two months for both you and Kenny were perhaps one of the most depressing periods of time in your life.
- After dealing with this, College had started and your parents began to let you have more freedom because you were becoming an adult.
- You were frustrated at the timing, the blonde-haired boy on the back of your mind the entire time they spoke to you about it. And the more you had longed to see him again.
- The first day of College arrived some time later and you had no idea what to expect.
- There was an uneasy feeling. You knew that Kenny wasn’t financially well off and you didn’t know if he was good grade-wise so it left you with the weight of finding out whether or not he was attending.
- Throughout the whole school day, you looked for him, high and low, low and high. Everywhere.
- He wasn’t in any single one of your classes. None of his friends were too. It seemed like all hope was lost and that the inevitable had happened.
- But, before you could end up back in that same pit of sadness, during the walk out of one of your classes to go to another; you passed by the stairs and someone grabbed you.
- Not knowing who it was, you put up a bit of a fight, losing pretty badly considering the person was quite strong, ending up behind the crevice of the stairs anyway.
- When you came face-to-face with the man that dragged you away, you squealed for joy.
- It was, of course, the McCormick.
- Both of you collided into a huge hug and stayed there for a while, cherishing each other’s warmth and smell.
- He’ll always have that faint smell of weed on him, but, it made him hotter in a way.
- It didn’t take long for the hug to turn into an elated talk.
┈┈┈┈┈┈ ✧ Start of Scenario ✧ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈
“Where have you been? How has life been treating you, Ken?” You asked while shoving his arm playfully, tilting your head to the side. He smirked at your behavior, finding it cute, before responding casually, “Honestly, it could be better. But, I’ve been doing okay. Now, that I’m getting to see my smokin’ hot babe again though, I think it’s more than great!” His nickname that he gave you made you crack up and blush at the same time.
Laughing along with you, he repeated the question, aiming it toward you this time. Your expression quickly dropped for a minute and when you remembered that he could pick up on that, you tried to play it off, “Oh, yeah! Uh, I’ve been okay too. Just been working my ass off in keeping my room clean so my parents won’t take my phone for the millionth time.”
A sigh left him hearing that and he clicked his tongue in disappointment, shaking his head side to side while leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “Still dealing with them? Damn, I’m all for parents making sure their kids are doing what they’re supposed to and actually taking care of em’, but, when you’re practically shoving your nose in their ass, that’s a problem,” he complained.
You agreed, “Tell me about it.” Rolling your eyes, you copied his body language by leaning too. Having dealt with them being this way since twelve, he didn’t even know half of it.
Silence began to fall onto your ears as Kenny opted for staring at you other than continue the conversation, his blue eyes scanning down your body, ultimately going for his perverted tendencies by lingering on your breasts a little too long. You snickered in response to this, “Really? You’re going to stare? You know you have hands, right pretty boy?”
Teasing him was just what you needed to do to make him budge as the McCormick turned to pin you to the wall, leaning down to get to your eye level. He gave you a small, soft kiss on the lips before pulling away to began lifting your shirt up above your head with a retort, “You should watch what you’re saying or else you’re going to end up being humiliated in front of a whole bunch of people, [Y/N].” So, he was saying your name now?
You decided you wanted to see if he would go that far by testing him, snaking your hand up to his waistband before shoving it inside of his pants without any struggle. Starting to rub him through his boxers right away, Kenny let out a grunt and pressed his forehead against yours while his brows furrowed.
Your voice lowered only for him to hear what you were telling him, “Do it. Fuck me so hard that everybody will know who’s screwing me that good.” His breath got shaky at that and you felt his cock throb in your hold.
He started tugging at his pants, bringing them down to his ankles along with his underwear from how eager he was after hearing what you said. A feeling of regret haunted you for a second when you glanced at the size of him, forgetting how huge he was until you got to see it in front of you.
But, that was overshadowed by how horny it also made you. Your own shorts were being thrown to the ground with the rest of the clothes. Eventually, leaving you both naked in front of each other.
Kenny was the quickest into getting in action, massaging your tits with both of his hands while moving his mouth to latch onto your neck. He made a couple of hickies working his way to your collarbone, running his fingers from your nipple to what’s in between your legs to rub your clit in circles for a minute.
Getting bored with this, he switched it up by continuously kissing lower and lower. Still sucking on certain spots to get it to bruise. He was marking you up and you were enjoying every single one. You moaned softly, trying to keep quiet, but loud enough for him to hear. After all, you didn’t want to actually get spotted doing this with him and end up expelled.
When he got to your pussy, his arms slid into the crevices of your thighs before he lifted both of them, spreading them across the wall. Then his mouth put all of the attention onto it.
Kenny licked your folds repeatedly at first to get a taste of your juices, gliding his tongue over your sensitive bud, and swirling it in a pattern to get you to make more noises for him. You were restless, grinding up into his face, and tugging onto his hair the moment he got to flicking side-to-side.
He went at it for a couple, causing you to cover your mouth midway through because of how much your voice was raising. It felt amazing. Like you were floating from how good his technique was.
Covering you with his spit from how messy he ate you out, you jutted your hips up and began to grind on his face. Around his mouth was a mess, spreading to his nose, and cheeks. He looked deep into your eyes the whole time he did it and switched to sucking your clit for the finale.
The blonde-haired boy got you to cum from that alone. Letting you roll on him like he was your new personal chair and smother his head with your thighs until pure bliss was the one thing showing in his expression.
Your juices spilled onto him, some landing where his dick was which worked out for lubrication in the long run. He stood back up, glistening in the sun from all the wetness, telling you with a smooth tone, “Turn around for me and put that ass up, baby.”
With shaky legs from the orgasm you had, you did what he said and bent over, your cheek pressed up on the cold bumpy surface. “Look at that… You’re being such a good little whore for your best friend,” Kenny cooed while grabbing your head and pushing you up against it; positioning himself with your entrance and sliding in easily. The both of you moaned out in satisfaction.
You had been waiting for him to do this to you for so long. And it didn’t hurt as bad as you thought it would. In fact, the big size and girth gave you the feeling of being full.
He sent loud slaps through the wall once he rammed his first set of thrusts into you, being fucked aggressively in doggy style despite you not being far from your peers and a death sentence from your parents.
The wet sounds mixing along with it didn’t help. And you were so sensitive that it made it impossible for you to hold your breath. The whining, yelps, and panting all at a high enough pitch that it was beginning to echo. You were going to get caught if he didn’t finish soon. Both of you would. But, for some reason, that didn’t sound as threatening as it should.
Your sense of danger was dulled from how hard he was railing you. And how turned on you were from it. Like he had molded you into being stupid for the time being.
You raked your nails on the wall and arched your back more, pleading out to him, “Faster, Kenny! Please, hurry up… I don’t want to get in trouble!” He paused as if he wasn’t expecting to hear that, but responded once it registered, “Okay, though you asked for this…”
Quickening his pace, your eyes shut and you used your hand to muffle yourself by biting onto it, crying out from his dick practically reaching into your stomach. He groaned, watching the display for himself to memorize, and slightly impressed at how dirty this hook-up was. You were going to be his favorite, for sure.
His end began to near around the time the bell was about to ring again, people about to fill the halls any second now while you’re being pummeled by the biggest pervert in school. You murmured curses quietly, feeling him grab both of your wrists while chasing his high as fast as he could. Tears left your eyes when Kenny finally reached it.
He didn’t pull out. Instead, he fucked his jizz inside of you and pumped every last drop he could. “Fuck! Fuck, that’s right… Take as much as you fucking can.” His dirty words were like music to your ears and the way his cum filled you to the brim made you hum. Drool dripping down the side of your mouth from how out of it you were.
Although, he was put in a tricky situation considering you could no longer walk and he possibly could’ve got you pregnant, a huge derpy smile stayed on Kenny’s face for the rest of the time he was with you. No one had seen him that happy ever. So, there was a lot of questions you had to answer when the boy ended up confessing that it was because of you. Who knew it was so hard to keep a secret with the McCormick.
┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ✧ End of Scenario ✧ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈
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#4 ; Craig Tucker
The song that I thought fit this best :
Sexual Dynamic : Masc!Sub | Masc!Dom
What’s in here : Yandere Craig (doing it cause I felt like it), mentions of murder, rough/painful sex, and a cumshot with a creampie.
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- Well fuck, this guy had known you for so long that he could barely remember when he first met you.
- But, that didn’t mean you two were close.
- You were simply friends from afar before ending up complete nobodies to each other around the time college came about.
- Or that’s what you thought.
- Craig had only stopped talking to you, he didn’t completely stop from hanging around you.
- Meaning that he would often drop by the places he knew you were hanging around to sit nearby and watch what you would do.
- This wouldn’t be creepy if it weren’t for the fact that the only place you liked to be inside was your dorm room. So, he was watching you from your window.
- It was easy for him considering the two of you were neighbors and whenever he wasn’t occupied with his love life, he’d be lost in staring at you playing the guitar or even go as far as watching you change.
- At some point, his infatuation with you peaked after coming across a late night masturbation session you were having, forgetting to close the blinds which let him have access to the scene.
- You had no shirt on, your pants barely above your knees, watching something on your computer screen. And his body was quick to react when he looked down.
- He got an idea to bring out his camera and record you, taking the moment to have fun himself.
- After jerking off and cumming around the same time with you, muttering your name in the middle of it, he knew he wasn’t going to be able to sit beside and just watch you forever.
- With an entire month of constantly recording you, breaking into your room and taking some of your clothes. Even stealing pencils that you broke out of boredom from the trash to keep in his drawer and watching you get drunk until you hooked up with random woman. Craig spiraled downward into an unhealthy obsession.
- He couldn’t stand it when seeing you flirt with girls despite knowing that you had no knowledge of his existence.
- If you took them home or went home with them, they would end up missing the next day.
- Craig didn’t know why he did it. He just simply felt the motive. Maybe it was because they were girls and he was a boy or maybe because he was in love with you. Honestly, he didn’t want to think on it.
- It got out that some of these woman were disappearing around your area and you ended up finding out it was the ones you hooked up with when the police were at your door.
- You were questioned and put as the number one suspect because you were the last person seen with them. And this confused and scared you badly.
- The police were convinced you were telling the truth by the way you reacted to the interrogation. Answering all of their questions sincerely, even telling them details of that night you had with them but not going too far to where it was weird.
- Also, the devastation on your face was easy to see. So they left you alone.
- However, this haunted you and you became desperate on trying to find out more about what happened to the girls by asking around. As well as waiting for more information from the investigation.
- The black-haired boy had to keep a low profile after and thanked himself for dumping the bodies in the lake further ahead of time.
- He was oddly disappointed in himself because of what he had done. Not because he had taken the lives away from innocent girls, but because he made your life become so hectic and had you go through so much stress.
- After the ordeal was dying down and the cops were coming to a dead end, the cases went cold and Craig went about his daily life of stalking you once again.
- You did not come back from this okay. Actually, it lead you to distancing from people romantically and sexually because you were afraid they would disappear.
- Landing you in therapy to get over the traumatic experience and depression that was swallowing you whole. Making you lose all of your friends and end up alone.
- And who would’ve known that Craig happened to need to go to the same therapist too? After his parents had found him talking to a wall and carving an initial into himself, your initial.
- He was admitted out of self harm. But, really, he was coping with the fact he couldn’t follow you during the search for the kidnapper of your flings.
- This gave him an opportunity to get to know you though as you crossed paths often when waiting in the lobby for appointments.
- One day, he told himself he was going to try and greet you. It should be easy because you both used to know each other, right?
- But this lead to him dodging it as soon as he got near you.
- You could be thirty feet away and Craig was standing there, panicking in his head, his face the exact opposite with barely any emotion present. Contradicting his stoicism, his heartbeat was racing.
- Your eyes had glanced over and ended up locking with his, raising a brow like you were questioning him.
- Then he saw you get up and began to head over to him.
- He became extremely nervous and excited all at the same time, clearing his throat and taking a deep breath to ready himself before you were right in front of him.
- His blue eyes were intense and burrowed themselves into your head as you got to finally talk to the guy you’d been seeing around.
- Might have been an socializing assignment your therapist gave you so you can repair your relationship with people. Fucked up considering he’s the one that ruined it in the first place.
┈┈┈┈┈┈ ✧ Start of Scenario ✧ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈
“I remember you! You’re the guy that lived in my neighborhood! Your name’s Craig, right?” You gave him a chipper smile, taking off your headphones to rest them on your shoulders. Craig had froze and stared at you blankly before rushing to find something to respond with, “Uh, yeah, I happen to be that guy.” It came out more awkward than he had wanted it to but who could blame him? He was talking to the boy he had been immensely infatuated with for months now who was acting extremely casual.
You laughed in victory at the correct guess and placed out a hand for him to shake, telling him why you approached, “That’s great! I had been looking for some more friends actually as I’ve went through something a little while ago and it’s left me a bit lonely. You think you could be my friend?”
He didn’t know how to register what you were saying but he wasn’t upset about it in the slightest. Although, his mind wasn’t concluding this as you two being ‘friends’. Grabbing your hand, he shook it and forgot to not put so much force, ending up yanking you a little too forward.
Your face collided with his chest due to losing your balance, making him catch you, and help you regain it by making you hug him. It didn’t help that you were at his height too because as soon as you pulled back, your nose was almost touching his. His eyes were back to burning themselves into yours, an electric feeling running through you at the moment. ‘Why did he look at me like that?’ you wondered, ‘Like I’m the most interesting thing in the world.’
Craig had to hold himself back from doing anything stupid and last minute, tensing up and slowly getting you to move back to where you were by grabbing both of your shoulders. You blinked rapidly and muttered out an apology, “My bad, I didn’t mean to fall into you and stay there, you just got really pretty eyes man.” That wasn’t a lie, you did think the color was super nice to look at.
But this compliment hit him way harder than it should’ve. And he found himself beginning to blush, blurting out a compliment back before he could think, “So are yours.”
The both of you were becoming flustered, looking at each other for a minute until you thought of another topic to talk about, trying to save yourself from spawning a crush on the guy. “So, what do you like to do in your spare time?” you went for that. And instead of answering, he asked you another question, “Do you smoke?”
Your eyes went wide as you watched him reach into his pocket and pull out a blunt the size of a finger, staring at it in disbelief. This was the weirdest interaction you’ve had yet. And how did he know that you were okay with that? And smoked weed? Did you smell like it? All these questions ran through your head but at some point, you had to answer him, and free drugs were a hard thing to come by, so you were honest, “Yeah, I do.”
A part of you felt pumped about it while another was a bit weirded out. However, you forgot about it quickly as soon as the blue-eyed man started walking away. You began to follow behind him, keeping up enough to watch his back the entire way, and admiring the trees every second or so when you got bored.
It was quiet. Not a word exchanged between them. That was because Craig was over his head. He was piecing something together in his thoughts, forming a plan, one that wasn’t what you would call sane. But, that was because he simply wasn’t. He couldn’t pretend like he hadn’t been thinking of you in a certain way for a long time. Like he hadn’t killed for you because of it.
As he lead you to a nearby alleyway he went to when he wanted to watch you in private, his back turned and he was facing you again. This place was damp and dark, the smell not the best, but it was away from society. And that was perfect for this.
The ravenette rested against the wall and lifted the blunt in between his fingers to rest right on his lips before reaching into his pocket to pull out a lighter. He lit the end of it, resting the flame on the tip for a couple of seconds as he sucked in a huge cloud that left his mouth the second he blew it out.
Holding it out to you afterward, a trail of smoke drifted from the cherry while you took it in your own two fingers. You took a hit from it just like he did, knowing that this was a really good kind as soon as you tasted how smooth the bud was. Your eyes closed and you held it in for five seconds before letting it out until all the air escaped your lungs so you didn’t die from coughing.
Hissing through your teeth, you ended up still letting out a grunt and cleared your throat to ease the burn in the back of your throat. “Shit, that’s a pretty good strain, what is it?” you asked in the middle of your struggle.
Craig took another drag and doubled it while responding nonchalantly like it was nothing, “It’s called Azul. I grew it.” He glanced down at the blunt to check on its burning status and decided it needed another light.
After getting it bright again, he handed it back to you and let you take a couple more puffs, putting his hands in his pockets. An impressed look crossed your face and what he said piqued your curiosity, you asked like you didn’t believe him, “Really?? You’re a grower? Don’t you go to my school and dorms?” It seemed you were going to get along with this guy way more than you thought you would.
More time passed as the two of you progressively got higher and higher each pass, ending up with you laughing contagiously at a joke he had made about a lady that passed by. You would’ve normally quietly chuckled and try to contain it because of how mean it was as you didn’t want to feel bad. But, the state you were in was more than relaxed.
A small smile appeared on Craig while he watched you lose it, “Dude! That’s so messed up… Come on!” You hit his arm and rested your head on his shoulder from being out of it, mumbling into his sweater. He put out the blunt then because he knew that any more would be way too much. Once you got to lift your head and rest your chin on him, he turned his toward you.
He looked down, so close that you could feel his breath brushing against you, and that made your heart stop. Muttering quietly, his questions took a turn that you didn’t expect, “Have you ever kissed a guy before?” Almost instantly, you could feel your dick starting to rise, causing you to cover it with your hand while responding in an unsure tone, “No…”
When your eyes flickered down to his lips after the mention of it though, he was fast to press them against yours. You didn’t resist but you didn’t return it either. Letting him softly kiss you before he pulled away to conclude, “Now you have. How did it feel?”
It was like the oxygen had left you. You couldn’t wrap your mind around why you liked that so much. And the fact he tasted like raspberries was not helping. Was a guy really going to be the one that gave you the best kiss of your life?
He frowned when you took forever to answer, sighing through his nose, and pulling away with a rejected tone, “Fuck, well, sorry I made you question your sexuality, [Y/N].” Before he could get far, you grabbed his collar and made him go back to where he was but ended up overestimating how far you were tugging him. He stumbled forward and pushed you up against the wall, both of his hands landing on both sides of your head to catch himself while your noses touched.
Craig held a glare with you, confused. He didn’t understand why you weren’t saying anything but also refusing to kiss him back as well. Were you into it? Did you want to? You still couldn’t open your mouth to put it into words, in denial about what was happening. But, you gave him something to let him know that it wasn’t bad by returning the kiss gently.
You were barely brushing up into him like you were shy of the action. And he understood that it was because you hadn’t done it in a while so he savored what he could. You were kissing him. Finally, he had gotten what he wanted. He was the one locking lips with you. Not anybody else.
His hands drifted to your sides, slowly moving to your waist so he could hook his fingers at the bottom of your shirt. Knowing where this was going, a knot formed in your throat and you placed your hands on his chest to push him away. “I don’t know if I can go that far,” you finally said something. It wasn’t because you didn’t want to. It was because you couldn’t stop worrying about his safety. All that you could think about was his name in the news headlines and pictures of his chullo hat covered in blood laying in some bushes.
Your breathing went out of control and he could tell you were about to go into a panic attack, wrapping his arms around you as soon as he saw the signs, remembering them from the times you were in your dorm room crying about the interrogation months ago.
There was that guilty feeling in his chest. It made his heart heavy. He didn’t want you to feel like this. Especially when all this worry was for nothing. So, he decided to mumble out the best reassurance he could think of, “I don’t know what’s going on with you. I have no idea what had happened to that friendship we had for a minute back then too. You’ve been out of the loop for quite a while, [Y/N].” He moved back to stare directly at you with sincerity in his voice, “All I know is that kissing someone has never felt so right and if I could, can I make you feel safe enough to trust me with your body for tonight?”
That was the most convincing someone has ever been. And this high helped you calm yourself while using the breathing techniques your therapist gave. You bit your bottom lip before sighing out in frustration, looking around at where you were, and then exclaiming, “Fine! But, can we please do it somewhere else other than a fucking disgusting alleyway?”
Craig stared at you like you were crazy until his face twisted from holding back laughter, ending up bursting at the seams anyway as it sputtered out of him. “You’re right. This isn’t the place to be screwing a pretty boy like you,” he slyly said as he began to head out of the alleyway. You ran after him, trying to brush off what he said but still feeling the butterflies flutter in your stomach.
Eventually, the two of you made it inside of your dorm room, the Tucker locking the door behind you with a snide remark, “So, are you going to answer my question from earlier? How was kissing a boy for the first time?”
You forgot about that. Your mind flashing back to the memory of the kiss, vividly remember how soft his lips were, and how patient he was in his pace. He was aggressive but soft. A perfect mixture. Snapping out of it, you stammered out, “I hadn’t kissed someone in quite a while… Or well, a girl. And it was always quick-paced like they were in a rush to get to the good parts. But with you… Well, with a boy, it was like you couldn’t get enough. That, I think, made it practically impassable.”
What you said made Craig sit in your computer chair and stare at you in awe, reaching his hand up to pull off his hat, and placing it down on your desk. He reached out his hand for yours now and murmured, “Come over here and sit.” You walked over to him and took it, about to actually prop yourself down onto his lap before he stopped you right as you were. “Wait. I need to fix something,” he said as he went to unbutton your pants.
Taking in a sharp inhale through your nose , his hands wasted no time in tugging them off along with your boxers. “Fuck, you move fast. Hold on, let me prepare myself at least,” you sounded embarrassed and you were because your hard-on was so visible. He chuckled at that, “Okay then. I’ll get myself undressed while you can work on getting those off.”
Your eyes couldn’t help but get a look at Craig starting to take his jacket and shirt off, automatically checking him out, and to your surprise, he was pretty built. He noticed you staring and teased, “If you want to see all of it, get to moving, I want to see you too.” That was a bargain you couldn’t say no to, holding your breath as you gripped around the hem of your boxers.
Then you pulled them off, letting them fall to your ankles, tugging your shirt off afterward to get it out of the way. The only thing left on you was your socks and the same was for him a couple of seconds later.
He eyed you up and down with his blue orbs, reaching for your wrist, and pulling you back into touching your knees with his. Both of his hands placed onto your shoulders and began lowering you down until you were coming face-to-face with his huge dick, watching it twitch with a slightly ajar mouth.
“You’re going to have to get it wet if you want to go any further, pretty boy,” he whispered, grabbing your chin to guide your mouth toward him. You couldn’t believe you were doing this, opening wide before taking the tip and wrapping your lips around it. Craig grunted and put a hand on your head, gripping onto your hair to deal with the pleasure.
The texture was different than you expected to feel on your tongue but it was also satisfying in a way. And it didn’t take long for you to get into swallowing most of his length, easing it into your throat, and tasting the saltiness of his pre-cum the more you sucked.
Grabbing harder onto you, he moved his hips upward and made all of his dick go down into your mouth. This caused you to gag and jolt backward, coughing and making a face at him. “What the fuck, man,” you angrily said and got back up onto your feet.
However, Craig was extremely impatient by this point and he could no longer hold up the soft facade he had with you anymore. He stood up with you and within seconds, you were slammed down into your bed while his hand dug into your neck, tightening around your throat to make you choke more than you had on him.
Noises squeaked out of you while the air was leaving you, his other hand positioning himself to your ass and spitting on it to get you ready. He rubbed it around and made you shudder, having never been touched there which caused it to feel super sensitive.
He made both of your legs wrap around his waist once his tip began to push inside, slowly stretching your hole out as you grabbed his wrist to try and pull his hand off of you. It hurt so bad. His size bigger than most so it made it almost numbing the more he slid into you. Your eyes were struggling to stay open as you were close to passing out from the loss of oxygen.
That’s what made him stop. He removed his hand from your neck and balled up both of them into fists, punching them into the pillow your head was resting on while rearing his hips back. He made his entire dick slide out before forcing it back in, making it feel like he was tearing your ass apart from the roughness. You screamed out, “FUCK! CRAIG! WAIT! WAIT, IT HURTS!”
Slapping a hand to cover your mouth, he continued to ram himself over and over into you, watching you take him with several groans slipping out. He was frantic in his movements and made your bed sound like it was about to give up underneath the strength he put into fucking you.
He made you forget about the anxiety alright. Letting you know why you didn’t have to be afraid of him being taken away but rather be afraid of him altogether. At the same time, you were being fucked into liking it. The sweat, slapping from the colliding of skin, and the shaking of your legs set up the perfect scenery for him. He got to see you fucked out underneath him, because of him, all for him. And that was all he needed.
Leaning into your neck, he finally came to a slow pace and rocked up into your walls, gliding his fingers down your chest to play with your tip and the pre-cum on it. Craig was giving you a break, wrapping his palm around the base of your dick until he was pumping it up and down at the exact pace he was thrusting into you. The combined pleasure was enough to get you to moan out in relief, “Much better… Oh, god, that’s much better…”
Another rare smile lifted the corners of his mouth as he moaned with you, burying all of his length for a moment before pulling back again to quicken his speed. “That’s what happens when you’re being a good fuck toy,” he praised. Jerking you off faster and faster as well.
You buried your head into the pillow and felt him start to kiss around your Adam’s apple, littering them around until his teeth brushed around a spot that made you jump. When he found it, he bit into the sensitive area and that caused everything in you to unravel. Your cum shot out on your chest and landed in between his fingers, spreading across his hand, and some even getting on his lower stomach.
He continued to rail himself in you for another long minute before reaching his end alongside you, the warm fluid escaping him with a loud growl, “[Y/N]! Shit… You’re so.. fucking… perfect.” Once he was finished completely and everything had emptied out into your hole, he slid his dick out. Letting the cum spill out onto your sheets while collapsing next to you to rest. The both of you stared at each other in a daze for the last moments you managed to stay awake and as you were about to pass out, Craig had confessed to you, “I think I love you…”
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Sorry for any errors or misspellings! I had tried to rush through this little thing when I saw it was getting too long so progressively, it might’ve got worse. But, this is overall what I’ve been working on for a couple and I hope you enjoyed!
Stick around for some more if you want! I got plenty where that came from. And if you like the other fandoms I’m interested in, you would definitely want to follow. I’ll be releasing a lot of those soon!
#southpark#south park#south park fanfiction#south park fandom#stan marsh#kyle broflovski#kenny mccormick#craig tucker#stan marsh x reader#kyle broflovski x reader#kenny mccormick x reader#craig tucker x reader#craig tucker x male reader#south park smut#south park headcanons#south park hcs#stanley is a bottom#kenny does not care where it is#and craig is a yandere#Spotify
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strawberry soju -> [back to masterlist?]
pairing : exes to ?? hong seunghan x fem reader
contains -> : drinking, mention of alcohol/being drunk
wc : 0.9k
preview ! - your drunken ex boyfriend calls you up out of nowhere, leaving him under your care for the night when he doesnt want you to go.
continue? ⬇️
you groaned at the sound of your phone buzzing once again. after all, it really does get annoying when its been 3 minutes and 7 missed calls.
“who could be calling so late? 10pm on a friday..”
setting down the ramen cup and pausing your favorite show, you swipe to accept the call, holding the phone up to your ear without checking the caller id. “hello? whos this?”
“y/nniee? that you?” the person slurred.
you knew that voice all too well, you didn’t even have to look at the contact name. “seunghan.” you sighed.
“you finally answered.” he exclaimed. you could practically hear his stupid smile.
“been drinking again?” you said, already knowing by his tone of voice.
“just.. a little tipsy..”
“are you-” you were cut off by someone elses voice.
“sorry y/n. he had a lot to drink.” eunseok joined in. “you mind getting seunghan? i know its.. awkward still. but my parents are supposed to go out soon, and i don’t want to leave my brother by himself.”
“hes sooo drunk that he seems to think you’re still together. he’s been asking for you all night!” sungchan snickered somewhere in the background.
“uh.. send me your location then? i guess its fine just this once. he wont even remember it in the morning.”
so you found yourself driving to a well known local restaurant to pick up your ex boyfriend. even though it was your choice, you couldnt help but wonder why you were doing this.
and you also couldn’t help but feel bad at the thought of seunghan being so drunk to the point he still thinks you’re dating.
“y/n, over here!” sungchan called out to you as you entered the building.
“wheres eunseok?”
“you just missed him. he had to go because he’s too worried about his brother.”
“my y/n! you’re here!” seunghan squealed going to pull you into a tight hug.
you awkwardly pat his head in return instead of hugging back. though you couldn’t say that you didn’t miss his touch.
sungchan helped you both to the car before he took off as well.
“god you smell like.. like, strawberry soju?” you exclaimed. “you really reek of alcohol. how much did you drink?”
seunghan replied by holding up 9 fingers, a lazy smile across his face and his eyes closed, with his cheeks a bright pink. “9 shots?” you scoffed as you set course for seunghans house.
“babyy.” seunghan whined. “im not your baby.” “you’ll always be my baby.” he teased back.
you sighed as you rubbed your forehead in frustration. “what do you want?”
“aircon please. i feel hot.” he mumbled as he tugged at the collar of his shirt.
you sank into your seat after turning on the air conditioning, putting up with how cold you were so he could feel better. after all, he was a bit of a liability right now though.
you walked up to seunghans apartment with him leaning into your shoulder while he had one arm around you for support.
“whats your code?” you asked, opening his keypad as you assumed he changed the password after your break up.
“same as always. your birthday. i would never change it.”
you’d be lying if you said your heart didn’t soften even in the slightest.
after changing seunghans shirt for him then getting him tucked into the sheets, you went to get up to get ready and go home before he pulled you back into the bed with him.
“please dont go.” he whispered as he wrapped his arms around you, burying his head into your neck with a small whine.
“but didn’t you think that we..” “nah. just wanted to believe that we were. feel more confident when i’m that drunk.”
“im sorry.”
“why did you leave me?”
though seunghan had said some crazy things that night, nothing would’ve prepared you for that.
“seunghan..”
“i dont care about it anymore then. just dont leave me again. even if its only for today.”
you turned around in his grasp to press a light kiss into his forehead. “promise.”
you decided, maybe it wouldnt be so bad to spend the night. you realize you wouldnt mind being happy with seunghan again even if it meant that he wouldnt remember any of it.
‘but might as well, cause i cant help myself.’ [1:36]
..
‘i dont ever wanna know how it feels to not have you, my strawberry soju.’ [1:51]
#gyuvision#gyuvision - riize#riize x reader#riize smut#seunghan x reader#seunghan smut#riize fluff#seunghan imagines#seunghan fluff#riize imagines
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Chapter 4
Here it is! I was nervous to put this out here so I hope it lives up. Yoongi realizes some things in this one but it might be a little too late. Chapter 5 should be out within a few days!
Yoongi X Female Reader. CEO/Arranged Marriage AU
Summary: You were selected to marry the wayward CEO/Billionaire/Heir, Min Yoongi. You went into it with an open mind and heart determined to try and make it work. Yoongi on the other hand had no intention of ever letting you in let alone allowing himself to fall in love with you. Slowly you start to associate the smell of cinnamon and vanilla with the feelings of hurt and sorrow.
Word Count: 3,404
Warnings: (May get updated as chapters progress): Arranged marriage, cheating/infidelity, hints of smut (Probably won’t get very explicit but we’ll see how it goes), Sexual Assault, Brief mentions of death, Reader grew up an orphan, General Angst, Swearing
Waking up with a long stretch you were more than surprised to wake up in your hotel bed. The last thing you remembered was falling asleep on the beach but you have no memory at all of walking back to the room. You figured that hotel security probably found you and thought you were just a drunk so they brought you back to the room after finding your room key on you.
Looking over to the empty space next to you memories from the night before came flooding back to you. The delicious dinner you had and the joyous company of the waiter Hoseok. The sight of Yoongi and the brunette that was all over him. How he lied and called you his sister instead of his wife. How you felt lonely and betrayed and you just wanted to wish everything of the past couple months away.
Suddenly as if your brain finally caught up you realized you were sleeping in the same bed that Yoongi and that woman most likely hooked up in and that caused your skin to crawl. You jumped out of bed like something bit you tripping over your suitcase in the process and landing on the ground with a loud thud. You’d never been so happy for a vacation to end before. Getting in the shower you scrubbed your skin so hard you’re pretty sure you did damage but you wanted to scrub until you no longer felt dirty. After packing up your few belongings you walked out to the living room of your suite. Yoongi was already sitting at the dining table. You scanned his body for any new marks but nothing was visible even with the v neck tshirt he was wearing that caused you to internally scold yourself for staring at him a little too long. When he finally noticed you standing there he pointed to the seat across from him,
“It’s a chai tea. Jimin said you don’t really like coffee so I didn’t know what else to get.“
Sitting down at the table you noticed that the selection of food was all of your favorites. Chocolate chip muffins, a bacon croissant sandwich, crispy potato hash, strawberries, pineapple, a glass of fresh squeezed orange juice. Yoongi cleared his throat, “Jimin also told me some of your favorite foods so I had them bring what they could.” Unable to hide the shy smile nodded before taking a bite.
“Umm do you know when or how I got back to the room last night? I don’t remember walking back so I wanted to go thank whomever brought me here?”, you awkwardly chuckled trying to break the silence but also piece together last night. He took another sip of his coffee, “Yeah actually I carried you back to the room and put you in the bed.” His statement caused you to choke on the strawberry you had just popped in your mouth, “I’m sorry you did what?”
He repeated, “I saw you laying on the beach so I went down and brought you back and put you in the bed.” You looked at him with wide eyes, words escaping you. You ate another strawberry trying to stuff your mouth before saying something you’d regret.
“Why is your skin so red? It looks like you washed yourself with sandpaper?”, he asked looking you over.
“Oh when I woke up in the bed I felt kind of gross, you know since you hooked up with some woman in there, and I’m sure the sheets weren’t changed afterwards. Guess I got a little carried away.”
Yoongi nodded before taking another sip of coffee, “I didn’t hook up with her.”
You laughed, “Come on Yoongi. I saw the two of you. If you didn’t hook up then what did you do with her in here? I know you guys didn’t play a game unless it included clothes coming off.”
“I told her to leave.”
“What?”
“I told her to leave.”
“I know I heard you the first time but why?”
He returned back to his bagel without a word and you rolled your eyes, “Okay fine. Don’t tell me. I don’t really care at this point anyways.”
Yoongi let out a long deep sigh, “After a while I realized that you didn’t come in the room with us. I didn’t know where you’d be able to go at that time of the night and I didn’t think it was a good idea for you to be wandering around by yourself so I told the woman that we should continue somewhere else and that I’d book us another room so you could come back to the room. So when I went to grab my wallet on the table next to the balcony I saw you laying out on the beach. It looked like you were sleeping and I didn’t want you to stay out there like that because it was late and it’s dangerous and you might get eaten by a crab or something so I told her that we were done and that she needed to leave. I walked down to the beach to bring you back. I was gonna wake you up but you looked really comfy so I just carried you here and put you in the bed and went to sleep myself.”
You were dumbfounded at his story. Your face was full of disbelief. Taking a bite of your muffin you nodded, “Oh well uh thank you for bringing me back.”
He nodded.
“Also if there was a crab out there big enough to eat me I think we’d have some major problems.”
He rolled his eyes before he walked off to the bathroom trying to hide the blush creeping down his neck. You continued to eat but confusion plagued your mind. You just can’t figure him out. One minute he’s hooking up with some random woman on your honeymoon and the next he’s going out of his way for you and trying to be kind, almost seeming kind of protective. You really weren’t sure what to make of him but you wished he would just make up his mind because you’re starting to get whiplash from the back and forth.
The flight back home was uneventful. The two of you sat in comfortable silence other than the occasional statement. Yoongi sipped on a whiskey and you even decided to get wild and sip on some champagne.
The car pulled up to an extravagant looking building confusing you as to where you were and then it hit you. You had to move into Yoongi’s place and of course he lived in the most luxurious building in the whole country. You thought spending a week in the same hotel room was awkward so you had no clue how living together was going to go but part of you hoped that maybe the two of you can finally work on some things in your relationship.
Once in Yoongi’s penthouse he gave you a very brief tour. The home was incredible. Jimins apartment was nice but didn’t compare to the penthouse. Floor to ceiling windows that looked out over the city. All the furniture appears to be high end and high quality. You’re pretty sure your entire apartment back home could’ve fit in the kitchen alone.
Thankfully Jimin was able help you coordinate with the movers to have your stuff shipped over. You didn’t have to bring much since Yoongi already had a fully furnished home. You just brought some clothes and a few sentimental items.
“My office is the third door on the right. If I work from home I’ll be in there but please keep interruptions to a minimum and only if necessary. My bedroom is the second door on the left. Don’t go in there. Your room is right here.”, he said opening the door. You were thoroughly confused. “Wait we have separate bedrooms?” Yoongi sighed irritation evident again, “I have the space so I figured why should we have to share a room. This way we can stay out of each others way.”
When you saw his eyebrow move up you knew what he meant by that. You sat on the edge of the bed staring down at the floor. Sure it was a nice room and bigger than any room you’d ever had before with it even having a private bathroom. But that didn’t stop the loneliness and hurt that you felt. You were more like a roommate or even worse, a nuisance that that he just wanted to shove away so he didn’t have to look at you.
That thought made you chuckle though, “Good thing you don’t have any staircases in this place or I’d be stuck sleeping under there I guess.”
Yoongi looked at you with eyebrows furrowed.
“What you’ve never seen Harry Potter before?”
“Do I seem like the kind of guy that watches Harry Potter?”
“I guess not but you sure have a lot in common with a certain he who shall not be named.”
“What are talking about?”
“Nothing never mind.”
Yoongi noticed your change in demeanor. Stuffing this hands into his pockets he spoke, “You’re welcome to paint or decorate the room however you want.” You met him with continued silence. He continued, “I have to go into the office to catch up on things. I ordered some groceries to be delivered later. Jimin told me about you liking to have a mug of warm milk before bed and I was out so that’ll be here later along with some other things for you.” You nodded in acknowledgment whispering a thank you before he turned and shut the door behind him.
Due to your small amount of belongings you were unpacked in no time. Luckily you just put your last piece of clothing away when the doorbell rang signaling the grocery order arrived. Taking the bags from the delivery driver and thanking him profusely you set to work putting everything away while also familiarizing yourself with the kitchen. As you pulled out the groceries you chuckled a little more each time. There was the milk just like Yoongi had promised. There was also a large package of chocolate chip muffins, multiple containers of strawberries, your favorite ramen, some cookies, a box of popcorn, and cookie dough ice cream. All of your favorites. You made a mental note to thank Jimin and maybe also send a thank you to Yoongi depending on how he was acting later.
Over the next few weeks things between Yoongi and yourself didn’t improve much. The two of you barely spoke other than the occasional question or statement and that was if you even saw each other at all. You spent most of your time in your bedroom while he claimed to be at the office or other work functions. The one time you did venture out and sat in the living room your movie was interrupted when Yoongi came strolling in with a woman in each arm heading towards his bedroom after giving you a quick nod like you were just one of his friends who he was trying to brag to about his “score”. Suddenly not feeling so well you turned off the tv and got in bed. It didn’t take long to hear moans and a headboard banging against the wall from down the hallway so you grabbed your headphones hoping to block out the sound and fall asleep as quickly as you could.
The next morning Yoongi and his new friends were long gone by the time you got up. You set out on checking off some things on your to do list that you created. One thing you wanted to work on was learning Korean. You knew a few phrases thanks to Jimin but now that you were living in Korea you thought it would be a good idea to get to know the language in a proficient way so you started calling around to different companies trying to find someone to give you lessons.
That’s how a few weeks later you were sitting at your kitchen table with the teacher the company you chose had sent you. Kim Namjoon was a handsome man no doubt about it. He was tall with broad shoulders. The cutest dimples you’d ever seen. His glasses framed his face perfectly and they looked great with his caramel colored hair. His cologne the complete opposite of Yoongi’s cinnamon and vanilla scent. Namjoon smelled light and citrusy. It was clean and refreshing and somehow managed to take the stress away from you. The way he spoke was so elegant. It was nice being able to have a full conversation with someone. You loved Jimin but you guys mostly just goofed off and went on rants to each other and trying to have a conversation with Yoongi was like pulling teeth. You hadn’t realized just how lonely you were before Namjoon came into your life. This was only your fifth session and you found yourself really excited that you were getting to spend some time with him again.
“I don’t know Y/N. How will baking cookies help you learn a language?”, he sighed trying mask his playfulness. You giggled, “Well I could learn all the names for the ingredients and I can try to give YOU the instructions in Korean while you make the cookies.” He sat there and pondered before you continued, “Come on Joonie. Back home I’m famous for my double chocolate chip cookies and I know you can’t say no to chocolate.” Finally he ran a hand through his hair, “Alright but you have to tell me each step in Korean.” Excitedly you jumped up running around to collect the ingredients.
Watching Namjoon try to make cookies was one of the funniest things you’ve ever witnessed. He told you he had no business being in the kitchen but you didn’t think it was this bad. He was currently trying to mix in the flour to the chocolate batter and you couldn’t stop laughing as you watched half the flour fall onto the counter which covered him in a puff of white smoke.
“Here Namjoon let me help you.”, you said placing your hand on his much larger one so you could guide his movements to slowly mix in the flour. You looked up to see him smiling down at you dimples on full display. His lips looked soft and warm. The thought of kissing him definitely crossed your mind. Yoongi hadn’t kissed you since your wedding day and the most physical he’s got with you was carrying you to the room from the beach and to be honest you wouldn’t let him touch you anyways without seeing some test results first to make sure he didn’t pick up anything along the way. The ring on your finger caught your eye before you could act on your thoughts. Yoongi may be an insufferable adulterer but that didn’t mean you had to be one too. Two wrongs don’t make a right in your book but damn if Namjoon wasn’t making you think about doing all the wrongs regardless of the rights.
You were so focused on trying to explain to Namjoon how to add the chocolate chips in Korean that neither of you noticed Yoongi walk in. He watched you gently grasp Namjoon’s hand while smiling up at him. You looked so cute in your daisy printed apron. Namjoon said something that made you burst into a fit of laughter. Yoongi felt a pain in his chest. He had never heard you laugh like that before. You looked so happy with Namjoon. He knew that was all his fault so he didn’t understand where this jealous feeling was coming from and why his brain and heart were betraying him.
He watched you reach up to wipe away some of the chocolate that had gotten onto Namjoon’s cheek. The two of you definitely sharing a moment and Yoongi felt his heart rate increase. He quickly pushed that feeling aside as he had no right. He had slept with multiple women since you got married and he was the one that told you that you were welcome to see other people so if you took Namjoon to your bedroom right now he had nothing to say.
He thought back to that night he carried you back from the beach. You looked so adorable with your lips slightly parted, your skin a beautiful hue of pink thanks to the sun, the way you wrapped your arms around his neck nuzzling your face into his shoulder. At that moment on the beach he realized how harsh he had been and that you didn’t deserve any of it. It’s not your fault that at 19 years old another woman ripped his heart out and stomped on it and then lit it on fire and he decided he’d never allow himself to go through that ever again instead choosing to be the breaker of hearts. The night after he carried you to the hotel while laying in the bed next to you he made a decision that he’d change if not for him then at least for you. Obviously, he failed once he returned to Seoul and he was introduced to the two female interns that he brought back home while you sat innocently watching a movie waiting for him. He knew he was a coward. He was too scared of getting his heart broken again that he decided to continuously break yours and now it looks like you found someone to help mend it and who was he to take that away from you. Deciding he saw enough he rushed off to his bedroom before you could find him standing there.
Once the cookies were baked and cooled you packaged most of them up before handing the box to Namjoon.
“Here take these. There’s no way I’m going to eat them all.”
He smiled but shook his head, “What about Yoongi? I’m sure he’d love to have some of these. I don’t want to take them all.”
You chuckled, “Yoongi never eats anything I cook. He’s probably worried I’ll try and poison him or something so I could get out of this marriage.”
Namjoon laughed at your joke and then confirmed again he was okay to take all the cookies before thanking you and heading out the door. You did a quick clean up of the kitchen before heating up a mug of warm milk and grabbing the two cookies you had saved and headed off to your room for the evening after shutting off the light.
Later that night you woke up hearing a loud bang come from the kitchen. It sounded just like a cabinet closing so you assumed it was Yoongi making himself something to eat. Not being concerned you turned over and went right back to sleep.
Yoongi however, had checked every cabinet and drawer looking for the cookies you made. He always snuck little tastes of your food in the middle of the night when you weren’t there even though you always offered him food each time. Part of him being too stubborn and not wanting to give you the satisfaction of eating the food you cooked and another part of him just felt like he didn’t deserve your food and was too embarrassed to eat it in front of you. He had heard all about your famous cookies from Jimin and he was really looking forward to trying one when he saw you and Namjoon baking them. Giving up he turned to shut off the light and that’s when a little baggy on the counter caught his eye. Inside a perfect looking double chocolate chip cookie with a stick note attached to the bag saying ‘Yoongi’. He took one bite and was in heaven. He thought back to you and Namjoon looking so happy together. Like a real couple. How you smiled and gently touched him. How Namjoon made you laugh. Yoongi finished off the cookie but he was no longer enthralled by the chocolate goodness. Suddenly the cookie tasted like a mix of heaven with a pinch of jealousy and a dash of regret.
#bts#yoongi fanfic#yoongi x reader#yoongi angst#min yoongi#bts fanfic#yoongi fic#bts yoongi#yoongi x y/n#yoongi#arranged marriage au#ceo au#yoongi au#cinnamon&vanilla#namjoon#bts fic#bts x reader
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Does Layla need a mom?
pairing: jake x y/n
warning: contains smut!
It’s a chilly night so I’ve decided to go for some thighs with my mini skirt. I wish I could just ignore the cold for my Tinder date tonight but I should put my health first. I’m meeting a new guy called Jake, by his profile I know he’s 21, has gorgeous lips and a dog. That’s all I’m looking for in a man these days, someone I can have fun with.
I order an Uber and go down the stairs, already kinda late for the reservation at the fancy Italian restaurant where we’re having our date. He made the reservation a week ago, he swears it’s the best food I’ll try in town. I get in the Uber and send him a message.
“Sorry, I'll be a few minutes late, traffic!” I sent it as the Uber driver was waiting on a red light.
“No worries, I’m already here. I hope you do show up and not leave me stranded haha” Jake sends a smiley emoji and I get he’s nervous about this date too. We’ve been talking for a few weeks, friendly but also quite flirty, some texts getting borderline sexting. I’ve been trying not to overthink about how this night could end, but the thought of getting into this man’s bed has kept me zoning out since he asked me out.
“Here it is lady, have a good night!” I get out of the car and thank the Uber driver, getting into the restaurant as fast as I can so I don’t ruin my hair in the rain. when I walk in, I scan the room to look for Jake, quickly spotting him at the end of the restaurant. He’s wearing a leather jacket, his hair pushed back and a neck chain, looking so good I almost got embarrassed to approach him. It would have been too late to escape since he already saw me, getting up and shaking his hand in the air so I could see him.
“Hello! Wow you look gorgeous y/n” Jake kisses me on the cheek and I get to smell his perfume, manly and sexy. I sit down and take a sweet time to appreciate how he looks, admire his tan skin, his big nose, his beautiful smile and his hands, wishing that those would be touching me in a couple of hours. He’s doing the same as me, scanning me from head to toe with a sultry stare.
“You look really good too Jake, I’m kind of surprised you’re just not wearing basketball shorts or a striped shirt” I joke since in all his pictures on Instagram he’s wearing one of these two clothing pieces, even both of the same time sometimes. He looks ridiculously gorgeous tonight.
“Well I have to show off for tonight, need to make a good impression”
“Sure you are”
Dinner was fantastic, everything was delicious and we talked all the time we were sitting there as if we had known each other since forever. Jake had come with his car so he offered to take me home. I felt uncomfortable asking to go to his house even though I really wanted to, so I made an excuse to be with him for a little bit more.
“I know a cool bar right around here, would you like to go? Let’s not end the date just yet” I looked up on Google Maps a bar next to his house just to hang out there for a bit, have a drink and see where the night took us. The next thing I know is that each of us has drunk at least 3 cocktails and it’s almost 2 a.m.
“My house is quite close to this bar, if you want to crash, I know I said I would take you home but I don’t think I can drive right now, a uber right now is gonna be impossible to find” Jake has his arm around my shoulders, his hair messy and he had to take his jacket off because of how hot he was. His house is a 15-minute walk away, which helps us get refreshed as we get to his door.
“Here we are, welcome to my house!” Jake opens the door and a modern and minimalist decor fills my sight. it’s obvious it’s a single man’s house by the posters and figurines he has but it’s done with good taste, giving a personal touch.
“Omg is this Layla? you’re so pretty and fluffy!” Jake’s dog approaches me right as I walk in, excitedly shaking her tail and giving little jumps. He has previously talked about her dog at the restaurant, showing me pictures of her as a puppy and all.
“She seems to like you, I don’t often see her this excited” Jake closes the door and takes his jacket off, hanging it on the entrance coat rack. He gets behind me and grabs my bag and my coat, hanging it as well.
“It’s kinda crazy that I’m staying at your house, I don’t know what you’re gonna think of me” I say as a joke but deep down I do want to give him a good impression and as much as I would love to rip his clothes off right now,
“It's kind of stupid If I thought anything bad about you y/n. I hope you know I’m very excited that you’re here right now. Just knowing we get to be a few more minutes together is already giving me a rush”
I look at him and he’s standing there, looking so handsome in this light, the air feeling heavy. I move to the sofa, sitting there first as he follows me around inside his own house. He turns on the TV and we’re sitting there like dummies, watching whatever is on. I am nervous, the expectation growing more and more each second.
“what the hell are we doing?” Jake says as he’s getting closer to me, facing me as I’m resting my back on the couch. When he’s just inches away from my lips, Layla jumps on the sofa, right in between us.
“Layla! you scared me, fuck” Jake moves to the other side of the sofa, being attacked by Layla’s kisses. I laugh from the other side, the view so endearing I almost forgot he’s just a Tinder date and this will end soon.
“Do you want me to lend you some clothes to sleep in? A T-shirt and some shorts perhaps?” Jake is standing right in front of me, waiting for my answer, looking for an excuse to get out of Layla’s insistence.
“yes, thank you! where’s the bathroom by the way? I need to take my make-up off” I get up fast as he walks to his bedroom to pick up the clothes.
“It’s here, hold on… let me give you the clothes so you can change. I also have make-up remover in the cabinet” Jake rumbles around his closet and comes back with a white t-shirt with a logo on it and some Nike shorts, handing them to me.
When I finished changing and getting my make-up off I glanced at myself in the mirror. I look so bare in this look, just how I would look at the solitude of my own house. It’s kinda crazy that this is how I choose to show myself in front of my date, who I have known for just a few hours. I guess Jake has something that just makes me blindly trust him.
As I’m coming out of the bathroom I hear the TV, the volume turned down so it’s low. When I walk into the living room, Jake is lying on the couch with a tight t-shirt and grey sweatpants. Layla lies right next to him, looking adorable with her fluffy fur. He looks a bit sleepy but as I walk into his sight, he opens his eyes and gets up.
“Do you want to watch a movie or something? I don’t sleep too much so I always stay up late watching TV. Right now there’s this 50’s romantic movie, I don’t know if you would like it” Jake looks at me as I’m standing there, his eyes trying not to look at my nipples, visible through the t-shirt he gave me. I’m also quite careful not to get caught looking at his bulge, way too noticeable in those sweats.
“I don’t care really, it’s just background noise to me” I say as I’m sitting next to him, he grabs my hands and pulls me in between his legs. His big hands hold mine as he looks at me in the eyes, the TV light illuminating his face in a beautiful blue. He looks mesmerizing, so much so that I can’t hold myself any longer and I kiss him. His sweet, plump lips capture mine with the same intensity as mine, gasping for air every time we separate.
Jake grabs the back of my thighs and sits me on his lap, his hands groping my ass and massaging it. I feel an overwhelming heat on my cheeks, all the pent-up neediness flowing out from us. He wanted this as much as I did. It’s surreal a man like this would want me so bad.
“Baby, let’s go to the bedroom” Jake says in between kisses as he picks me up from his lap and takes me to his bedroom. I’m not thinking about anything else right now but his lips, his hands and the burning pain I’m feeling in my groin, growing worse each second I feel no relief.
When we get to the bedroom, Jake throws me onto the bed, closing the door behind him. The bedroom is nicely decorated, filled with blue and wood. Seeing the details of how he chooses to decorate his house gives me more knowledge about him, filling in the gaps of the missing info I have about him. As I’m laying there, he moves swiftly to the side of the bed, where he turns on a bedside lamp. Lights on tonight I guess.
“Tell me what you like baby, I’m all ears” Jake is standing right at the feet of the bed, in front of me lying in his bed. Many dirty thoughts go through my head, and I could ask for many favours. I don’t have words to describe how bothered I am by his presence, getting hornier with every second he spends waiting for me to voice my desires.
“take your t-shirt off, slowly. And then take mine” I ask, not much but just enough for now. Jake doesn’t say a word, he just follows. Grabs the hem of his t-shirt and peels it off, showing his defined abs and honey skin. His hair is messy now and his eyes are fixed on the t-shirt he lent me, planning on taking it off as soon as possible. From where he stands he grabs my ankles and pulls me to the edge of the bed, my feet touching the floor and sitting there like a doll. His hands are placed on my waist under the t-shirt, caressing my body as he pushes it up, arms up and for a second I get struck when I get to see his face again, both of us semi-naked and getting more and more desperate for what’s about to happen.
“Tell me, princess, what else do you want me to do?” Jake is almost touching my lips with his, the kiss from before hitting my mind and leaving me desperate for another one. I pull him by his neck onto my lips, clashing hard as we lay on the bed, him on top of me. As we are kissing, his hand snakes up to the pants that I’m wearing, pulling them slowly, leaving me completely naked. I waste no time and do the same to him, unsuccessfully though. He stops me and breaks the kiss, taking them off himself. My sight is indescribable, his naked body bathed by the warm light of the lamp and desire burning in his eyes.
My hands travel from his shoulders to his hip bone, feeling the softness of his skin and his body heat. I touch his member, now hard and red, and Jake hisses at the feeling. I give it slow strokes, enjoying how his eyebrows stitch up and his mouth can only moan and whimper just cause of my touch. As I start going faster, he falls on his back on the bed, giving me full access to now suck him off. I get on top of him and slowly start with my tongue, tiny licks to the top and getting my saliva all around it. When it’s covered I put it all in my mouth, bottom it thanks to Jake pushing my head all the way down. He’s grabbing the back of my head, trying to regain some control over the situation but he’s very obviously gone. When he starts whining and whimpering I know he’s right there, going faster. He tries to stop me but fails miserably, cumming all in my mouth and face.
“wow, you’re going strong y/n, I don’t know if I can keep up with you” he lays there breathing heavily as I’m cleaning my face, his sight lost on the ceiling. “Well the ball’s on your court now, how are you gonna pay me for the best blowjob you’ve received in your entire life?” I say cockily as I get close to his face. His eyes look at me, foggy and lost in lust and suddenly I see a spark in them, knowing instantly he has gotten an idea on how he’s gonna pay me.
“Sit on my face, you’ve won it” Jake grabs my leg and gets it on the other side of his body, now I’m straddling his ribcage. His hands push me by my hips closer to his head, my hands grabbing the headboard so I don’t fall. I can feel Jake’s warm breath on my pussy, his plump lips just inches away from my heat. I feel his wet tongue first, circling around my clit and giving kitten licks as I’m desperately trying to not sit down on his head and choke him. When he starts using his tongue, lapping my folds with hunger I can’t control my sounds any longer and start moaning like I’m possessed. His lips feeling so good and skillfully mixing his mouth with two fingers I come fast on his face, losing all my strength and falling back onto the bed with his head still between my legs. A few minutes pass and I feel Jake getting up and moving my body by my ankles, placing me in the middle of the bed.
“Did that feel good baby? I’ve never seen anyone react like that… it was so hot I also came with you, twice tonight already. And I haven’t even been inside you yet” Jake’s hair looks messy and sexy, especially knowing it’s because of our recent activities. His lips are even plumper if possible and a layer of sweat covers his chest and abs. I sit up and touch his body instinctively, caressing his hip bone and looking at him in the eyes.
“Bend over baby” his strong arms flip me over, getting me on all fours. His eyes went straight to my drenched and pulsating pussy, placing himself right on my entrance. “Mhmm, it felt so good Jake…fuck I can’t take it any longer, please… just fuck me already”
He moves slowly, for a second unsure if he should be doing this, but when he stretches me so good that I moan loudly, his movements go crazy, railing me like an animal, his hair all stuck to his forehead and his eyes shut, trying to keep up with the pace. He bites his fist but is to no avail as moans just escape from his mouth, his movements going erratic and losing focus. I feel the bed move like it’s gonna break, my moans have become screams at this point and I’m lost in the feeling, my hair all over my face and sweat sticking the sheets onto my body.
“Jake, Jake, I’m going to… I can’t hold it anymore… I’m gonna…” can’t even say a whole sentence, the feeling not letting me think properly as all I feel like the heat in my tummy is gonna explode at any second.
“Do it, c’mon baby, I want to see you come on my dick, let it go…” Jake takes one of his hands to my clit, massaging it and making me come in seconds. I lose sight for a second, everything is blurry as I hear Jake moan loudly, coming inside me and falling on top of me. His head on my chest, I hug his head as we both recover our breaths, the moment feeling so intimate I can’t stop myself from giving him a kiss on the forehead.
I’m pretty sure we fell asleep like that for like fifteen minutes, hugging each other as all we had was each other’s body heat to keep warm. I wake up by the sound of scratching on the bedroom door, obviously being Leyla waiting for his owner to give her food. Jake gets up from top of me and walks to the door, closing it behind him as soon as Leyla starts jumping excitedly. I’m left there quite sad, missing how close we were just a few seconds ago.
“Hey, sorry, I forgot to put water in Leyla’s bowl before and she was quite thirsty. But hey, I just turned the water on, do you want to take a bath? It’s probably hot by now” Jake is sitting on the border of the bed, caressing my tummy as I’m still too tired to get up. I look at him and feel a sense of dreadness, I don’t wanna lose whatever we have right now between each other. Leaving his house today could mean this is over, that we’re just a one-night stand for each other and that’s it.
I take his hand and he lifts me up from the bed, lending me a bathrobe so I don’t get cold on the way to the bathroom. when we get there, there’s a few candles lighten up and the whole room smells like lavender, calming and cozy.
“Get in the bathtub, I’ll prepare some towels for when we get out” I step inside the bathtub, the warm water soothing my body from the intense workout. Jake gets into the bathtub and we’re sitting there looking at each other, just like we were at the restaurant earlier. I almost feel like crying, so I close my eyes and push my head back to rest on the wall.
“Are you good? you look super tired” Jake asks, but I don’t feel like answering right now or my voice will break. So he sits there, reaching for my hand and worried I’m actually in pain. But the pain it’s not physical, and I wish he had just let me go to my house by taxi today. I feel like shit right now, enjoying the last minutes of the most beautiful date I’ve ever been on.
“Did I do something wrong? Are you hurt anywhere?” His tone was serious and worried, his eyes fixated on my face. I open my eyes and it’s obvious that I’m on the verge of tears, my eyes watery and red.
“It’s okay, I’m just a bit tired, today has been a long day for me”
“I don’t believe you, I don’t think that’s what’s happening. You looked so happy a few minutes ago coming on my dick, and now you’re tired? Do you think I’m gonna believe that? Please tell me what’s going on”
Jake sounds mad at me, scared that now everything’s done I’m acting so cold towards him. I can’t tell him the truth, it is so embarrassing and delusional that I might scare him off.
“It’s okay Jake, I just need to go home and sleep a little bit. I had fun don’t be mistaken, but I think is time I go back to my bed and keep on going with my life” I come off as a bitch, looking for a way out of this conversation that was gonna end by me ridiculizing myself in front of the hottest man I know. If I give him the idea that I’m always up for something casual I might get to see him again.
“I don’t know what the fuck has happened for you to say this, but if you want to sleep here I have no issue with it if that’s what you’re worried about. I thought we had a great time tonight, maybe I’ve been a bit rough or you didn’t feel comfortable with me… I don’t know if you’re under the impression that I have used you to have sex but you couldn’t be more mistaken”
There’s an uncomfortable silence, the only sounds being the distant sound of the TV in the living room and Leyla walking around the house outside the bathroom door. I look at him and his eyes are lost, a hundred thoughts going through his head, trying to find where it went wrong tonight.
“It’s not that I didn’t like it, I actually hadn’t had this much fun in a long time. I guess I’m a bit sensitive since it was a bit too… intimate. Like, this is just a hookup, I shouldn’t be feeling this way about what we have done but… I wish It had meant more for the both of us”
“Listen y/n, it’s been a long time since I’ve gone on a date. I was very excited to go with you tonight since I thought we had great chemistry on our back-and-forth texts. I do feel different about you than I have felt about any other woman I have talked to on that damn app…”
I look at him and his arms are resting on each side of the bathtub, his skin glistening and a perfect view of his chest. It makes me crave for a hug in the comfort of his embrace.
“I like you more than I thought I would so early into knowing each other. I have enjoyed this night with you so much that’s gonna screw me up forever, being honest” I confess, my head turned to the wall so I don’t see his reaction to such a statement.
I don’t have to look at him, his arms grabbing mine and getting me closer to him. His lips on mine, so fierce and hungry, I’ve lost control of the situation and now I’m just being french kissed as water splashes everywhere, my legs on each side of his lap.
“Me too… I felt like a dumbass, being so intense… I don’t wanna let you go, ever” his kisses move to my neck and chest, and my hands can’t do much but hold his hair on my fist as I try not to moan too loudly at 4 a.m.
The next morning I lay there, on his bed. The sheets are everywhere, victims of our last night endeavours. A subtle smell of coffee and toasted bread comes into the bedroom, getting me up instantly and wandering to the kitchen.
There he is, early morning with wet hair from the shower and a clean black t-shirt and grey sweatpants. Layla runs around the kitchen, excited about her breakfast just as I am. When I walk into his vision, Jake looks at me with the brightest smile and comes to hug me, kissing my head and caressing my back.
“Good morning baby, did you rest well?” his warmth irradiating through his t-shirt and feeling incredibly comforting.
“Yeah I did, I haven’t slept this well in a long time” I snuggle on his chest, his arms reaching for the frypan and moving it aside, so the scrambled eggs don’t burn.
When we’re done with the breakfast, a long silence between us arises. It’s comfortable but at the same time, it scares me that it'll make us talk about our feelings. Thankfully Layla jumps on my lap, wanting to play with me. If this ends I’m also gonna miss her and I just met her.
“Damn, Layla has never acted like this with anyone before, it’s crazy… She likes you a lot. It's just like she has accepted you’re her mom or something haha” Jake says, fascinated by how his dog is acting towards a total stranger to her, like she has known me since forever.
“So… does Layla need a mom?”
“Yeah, her dad needs a mom too” Jake looks at me and we start laughing, filling the house with the sound of our laughter, the smell of toast and a happy Layla, who gets to have a mom from that day on.
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bailé con mi ex l (javier peña x female reader)
summary: After a night out at the club with your friends, you confess to Javier that you danced with your ex-boyfriend and he doesn’t take the news too well.
pairing: Javier Peña x Female Reader
warnings: 18+ only, minors dni. Protective, jealous and slightly possessive Javi, he is a lil toxic, but just a smidge I promise; innocent-ish reader; angst, bits of fluff sprinkled in here and there. Not proofread for spelling, sorry!
word count 2.2k
a/n 📝 wooo, Vee finally popped her Javi cherry. testing the waters with this one, I also have a couple prompts from a while back to still write. it is based on a Becky G song, yes I know she and this song did not exist back in the day (I think? Idk what year she was born tbh) but ANYWAY I just really like the lyrics and plus it’s fiction so who cares lmao. Translations at the end ✨
Tú no me creerás, pensarás que hay algo más
es difícil de entenderlo, pero no sería capaz de enganãrte
y si te lo cuento
es porque tengo muy claro lo que siento
It was half past one o’ clock in the morning—you had told Javier you’d be home by midnight at the very latest. But a night out at one of the more popular clubs in Bogotá celebrating a close friend’s birthday meant that none of the girls were going to allow you to leave that early without giving you some kind of shit about it, so you had stayed just a little while longer and tossed back another drink or two before finally calling it a night. Your friends still gave you grief about it, but knowing Javier, he would be worried, especially since cartel violence in the region had begun to escalate over the last several months, worsening to the point where Javi didn’t even like you going out to the produce market all by yourself in broad daylight.
You tried to be as quiet as possible as you pulled your keys out from your purse, fumbling around with them in the dark until you’d finally found the right one to unlock the front door of yours and Javier’s shared apartment. You slipped inside and the moment that you did, the lights flipped on, causing you to whirl around and let out a startled little yelp.
You turned to see Javier standing there, fully dressed in his jeans and a tight red button up shirt with his set of car keys clutched in hand. “Javi,” You breathed out his name as your hand flew to your chest. You shot him a glare. “Jesus Christ, you scared the hell out of me! What in the world are you doing? Why are you dressed—do you have any idea what time it is right now?”
“Do you have any idea what time it is right now?” Javier retorted, raising an eyebrow at you. Part of him seemed to be upset, but the other part of him seemed more relieved than anything. He tossed his keys down onto the small, hallway table and walked over to you, taking your face between his large hands as he kissed your forehead. He let his lips linger on your skin as he reminded you, “You told me you would be home by midnight, amor. You can’t tell me that and then come home almost two hours later. You know how bad things are out there right now. You could have at least called me to let me know you’d be late.”
“I’m sorry, I know. It’s just that the girls were shoving shot glass after shot glass right into my hands and time just got away from me,” You said, placing both of your hands right over his. Your eyes met his dark brown ones and you flashed him a sincere, apologetic look. “I’m really sorry I didn’t call. I didn’t mean to make you worry, Javi.”
He sighed. “Well, you’re home safe now. That’s all that matters to me.” Javier dropped his hands from your face and led you into the living room. “Can I get you anything, baby? Are you thirsty?”
“Actually, I’d love a glass of water,” You admitted, kicking off your black, high heeled shoes before dropping down onto the supple, brown leather couch. You watched him as he padded over into the kitchen. “I didn’t get as drunk as I thought I would, you know.” You added jokingly, “I think my tolerance for tequila is through the roof now.”
Javi laughed as he pulled a glass from one of the kitchen cabinets; he then filled it with water from the jug he’d pulled out of the refrigerator. “But you still had fun, right?”
“God, I had so much fun,” You told him with a grin. “I danced all night, Javi.”
“With who?” He’d asked the question casually, but you could detect the seriousness behind it.
Your smile faded slightly.
At first, you hadn’t planned to tell him. But Javier was the love of your life, and you would never dare to keep any kind of secret from him.
Still, you knew he wouldn’t be all too happy with what you were about to confess.
Javier walked back over to you, handing you the glass of water. He frowned, noticing the hesitant expression on your face. “What is it?” He placed his hands on his hips, peering at you curiously. “You didn’t dance with any guys, did you?”
“Just one,” You admitted, softly.
Javier froze a moment, his shoulders going rigid.
“What?” Through gritted teeth, he demanded to know, “Who?”
The moment your ex boyfriend’s name fell from your lips, the color drained from Javier’s face. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”
Setting the glass down on the table beside the couch, you quickly jumped up and held up your hands in defense. “Wait a minute, before you get mad about it, just let me explain—”
“What the hell is there to explain?” Javier nearly growled at you. “That you went to some nightclub and danced with another man? One who happens to be your fucking ex-boyfriend? Es en serio?”
You went up to him, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “Javi, please. Just wait one second—”
He snatched his arm away. “Don’t touch me!”
Your heart sank and you backed away. “Really? You’re not even going to let me explain myself?”
“There’s nothing to explain,” Javier replied coolly. His eyes flickered up and down, giving you a quick once over from head to toe. “I would have never thought that you would be such a—”
Javier stopped himself, knowing all too damn well that he was far too angry to think clearly before letting anything come out of his mouth.
But it was too late.
He could see the hurt that flashed in your eyes.
“Such a what?” You crossed your arms over your chest, the blood in your veins running frigid. You then raised a knowing eyebrow at him. “Such a whore?”
“I didn’t say fucking that,” he muttered, averting your gaze.
Blinking back the tears that burned your eyes, you roughly shoved past him and went straight into the bathroom. Trembling, you began looking for a clean washcloth so that you could start taking off your makeup.
The sound of the front door slamming violently just a minute or two later caused you to wince.
Certain that Javier was gone, you sank down onto the cold white tile and began to sob.
A couple of hours later into the early morning, you were sitting on your bed in nothing but one of Javier’s shirts.
You had cried and cried, releasing your emotions until your eyes had gone dry.
You’d hoped Javier would come right back home and talk things out with you, but by the time four o’ clock rolled around, you had given up on that hope. Letting out an exhausted sigh, you were just about to reach out and switch off the lamp on the nightstand next to the bed when you heard the sound of the front door opening and then closing.
You swallowed harshly as the sound of his footsteps approaching drew closer and closer.
Javier walked into the bedroom, looking surprised to see you sitting there, still awake at this hour. He spoke in a cold tone that let you know he was still upset with you. “I thought you would be asleep by now.”
Even from where he stood, you could smell the heavy stench of cigarettes and scotch all over him.
“I was waiting up for you,” You murmured, quietly.
Javier kicked the bedroom door closed behind him and let out a long sigh. He said nothing else to you as he kicked off his tan boots and began shrugging out of his shirt, tossing it aside.
“Where were you?” You asked him, your small voice breaking through the silence.
“I needed a drink,” he responded curtly with his back to you.
“We have drinks here, you know.”
“Yeah, well I needed something a lot stronger than what we’ve got.”
Finally, Javier had no choice but to turn around and face you.
The second he did, a fresh tear slipped down the side of your face.
Javier’s stomach sank deeply and the expression on his face immediately softened.
“Bebe—”
You lifted both your hands to your mouth, muffling a broken sob.
“Hell, I’m sorry,” he apologized as he walked over, taking a seat beside you on the bed. He reached for your wrists, gently tugging them away from your face. “Baby, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to get so upset at you, alright?”
“Do you really think that of me? Do you think that I’m a—?” You’d said the word once, but couldn’t find it in yourself to utter it again.
“Of course I don’t, mi vida. I was just angry, I wasn’t even thinking.” He paused, noticing the way you were trembling and reached up to cradle the side of your face in his palm. “Put yourself in my shoes for a second. Wouldn’t you be angry at me if I came home from a late night at the club and told you I had danced with one of my exes?”
“Probably,” You admitted, feeling the envy boil in your lower belly as you thought about him holding another woman in his arms. “But I would have at least given you the chance to explain yourself. I mean, have I ever given you a reason not to trust me, Javi?”
Javier opened his mouth to speak, then clamped it shut.
He’d fucked up.
“Well?” You prompted him. “Answer me, Javier. Have I ever done anything to make you think that you can’t trust me?”
“No.” His hand dropped from your face. He spoke again, guilt lacing his tone. “You’ve never given me one single reason not to trust you.”
You let out a small, shaky sigh and brought your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them. “He was at the club with his friends tonight,” You began to explain to him. You noticed the way Javier stiffened slightly; although you knew he didn’t want to hear about how you had danced with your ex-boyfriend, you decided to continue on anyway. He needed to know. “He came up to me and he said hello. We had a drink together and then he asked me to dance with him.” Unable to help yourself, you let out a small breathy chuckle. “We danced to quite a few songs, actually. It was just like old times.”
Javier’s jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists.
Before he could say anything, you lifted one of your own hands to stop him. “He was a great guy, Javier. We had a good relationship, but it just didn’t work out. It wasn’t meant to be. When we broke up, it was amicable and we wished each other best and now, a couple years later, we both have the best. He’s with someone he loves and I’m with someone that I love too.” You offered him a tiny, watery smile. “I don’t have eyes or space in my heart for anyone else but you, Javier. Seeing him again and dancing with him tonight made me realize that I would never even dare to think about jeopardizing our relationship. I love you more than anything, and I would never do anything to betray you.”
He stared at you, mouth agape.
Oh, he’d definitely fucked up.
Before meeting you, Javier had never been the kind of man to do relationships—because he’d never known how to do relationships.
Before you’d walked into his life, all Javier knew was meaningless sex with escorts and informants, one night stands with coworkers—regardless of who he fucked, he had always been able to walk away the following morning without any sort of attachment. It’s what he wanted, or at least, it’s what he’d thought he wanted.
And then Javier met you.
You weren’t the type of woman who he’d normally set his sights on. You didn’t walk around almost naked like half the women in Colombia, you didn’t smoke, you rarely ever even cursed and only drank when your friends pressured you into it—you had this kind of sweet innocence written all over you, and normally Javier would never look twice at a woman like you because a woman like you looked for a boyfriend; not a fuck buddy and certainly not a one night stand.
Javier Peña had never been boyfriend material.
He didn’t know how to be in a relationship.
At least not a healthy one.
Even now, he struggled to be the partner that you deserved. He met your physical needs without a single problem, but your emotional needs were something of a challenge for him. Still, Javi loved you with every fiber of his entire being and he was more than willing to keep on trying to be the man you needed him to be in every way possible.
“I’m sorry,” Javier murmured again after a while. He reached out, placing his hand on your bare thigh. “I am so sorry, baby. Perdoname, preciosa. Please.”
You placed your hand on top of his, giving him another little smile. “Of course I forgive you, Javi.”
Relieved, he leaned in, pressing his lips against yours. As he began to deepen the kiss, his hands reached out, tugging at the hem of his shirt were wearing.
“Javi, it’s four in the morning,” You giggled against his lips.
Javier chuckled. He pushed you back against the pillows and swung his leg over to climb on top of you. “When has that ever stopped us before?”
“True,” You grinned up at him before pulling him down towards you for another kiss.
;Translations
lyrics:
You might not believe me, you’ll think there’s something more
it’s difficult to understand, but I could never betray you
if I’m telling you this, it’s because I know exactly how I feel
fic:
amor - love
es en serio? - are you serious?
bebe - baby
mi vida - my life
perdoname, preciosa - forgive me, precious girl
#javier peña#javier pena#javier pena x you#javier pena x y/n#javier pena x reader#javier pena fic#javier pena narcos#javier pena fanfiction#javier pena fluff#javier pena angst#pedro pascal characters#javier pena one shot#javier peña x reader#javier peña x you#javier peña x y/n#javier peña fanfiction#javier peña fic
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Wishful Drinking
Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x GN!Reader
Summary: After Morpheus cruelly dismisses you, you decide that you'll get back at him by staying out of the Dreaming one night for as long as you can. What you don't anticipate is letting your feelings get the best of you and getting very drunk instead.
Or, drunk shenanigans galore!
Word Count: 3.5k
Author's Note: I don't know what this is, y'all. I haven't written anything in more than a month, and it was so tough to even write this, but I wanted to write SOMETHING. As always, hope you enjoyed, let me know your thoughts, and likes, comments, and reblogs make my world go round.
ALSO! Dream logic applies here, in that you're still drunk when you reach the Dreaming.
Listen.
You know that certain coping mechanisms, like, say, going out clubbing with your friends and getting crazy drunk for the first time in a long time, aren’t exactly healthy. But things have been difficult for you lately! You’ve been struggling a lot, in both your professional and personal life. These hardships are only compounded by the fact that the one person (or person-shaped being) in your life that you thought you could count on, your Morpheus, has been too busy to have time for you.
Literally. He said those exact words to you a mere three days ago, when you had found him in his personal study (a study that he almost never used) after what felt like a day spent chasing him around the Dreaming. You meant for it to come out as teasing when you took note of the fact that you hardly saw him around lately and that it felt like he was purposefully avoiding you, but he had sighed and glared at you before saying, “I have much to do, and I am far too busy to entertain you right now.”
You glowered, but, as he said, he was too busy to see it. Fine, you thought as you turned around and stalked out of his study. Leave him to his business.
Cut to today. When your friends asked if you wanted to go out with them, you almost said no, having gotten accustomed in the past couple of months to the routine of going to bed by nine o’clock in order to maximize time spent in your lover’s realm. But then, the more you thought about it, the more you realized that you didn’t want to just continue sitting around in the Dreaming and hoping that Morphues would come out of whatever funk he was in. After all, why should you make an effort when he won’t? You’re not about to beg for his attention.
With that in mind, you texted back that you very much wanted to go out with them and proceeded to get ready for a fun night out.
The plan was to have a couple of drinks, dance for a bit, and stay out of the Dreaming just long enough to make Morpheus sweat a bit.
But then shots had been ordered.
And your friend bought you a drink because they knew you had had a tough week.
And you bought yourself two drinks.
And a group of guys bought you another round of shots, and though you all laughed at the fact that they were not getting anything out of this, you still took them because you weren’t about to turn down free alcohol.
This leads to you and your friends stumbling out of a bar at two in the morning, holding each other up as you do. Definitely not the plan, but what’s that one quote about plans and mice and men?
“What about a mouse?” your friend asks from beside you, making you realize that you said that out loud.
“Don’ worry ‘bout it,” you say.
Somehow, you make it into a Lyft (thank the gods for friends who don’t get carried away), and somehow, you make it into your home. Not without its difficulties–you dropped your keys multiple times on the walk to your front door, and there might be a you-shaped indent in the entryway wall from where you fell into it when trying to kick your shoes off.
When you reach your bedroom, you decide that actually, the floor looks comfier than your bed does. You’re so drunk that the room feels like it’s spinning when you lay down, and you close your eyes to enjoy the ride.
“Fuck, I’m so drunk right now,” you say out loud, laughing at the sound of your slurred words.
You don’t mean to fall asleep, really. You know that you need to crawl to the bathroom to wash your face and find enough dexterity to change clothes before hopefully sobering up just enough that you can make it to the kitchen to grab painkillers and water for the inevitable killer hangover you’re going to have tomorrow. The floor is just so soft, though, and you work yourself into a trance-like state by staring up at the ceiling fan and watching it go around and around and around. On one blink, you’re staring at your ceiling.
And on the next, you’re staring at another ceiling, one that’s not really a ceiling at all, but an entire galaxy above your head.
It’s easy to get lost in the magnificent colors swirling above you (especially in your current state), and you do, until you hear someone calling your name. When you look away from the universe, you see the love of your life looking at you, though at present, he is not reciprocating the heart eyes that you are always looking at him with.
“Where have you been?” Morpheus demands.
“Morpheus, my love!” You throw your arms out and grin. “I’ve missed you.”
“Do you have any idea how worried I have been? I sent Matthew to find you hours ago when first you were late, only for him to report that he could not find you at your home.” You’re a little surprised that Matthew hadn’t managed to track you down; your little raven friend was almost scarily good at finding people/places/things.
“Aw, you’ve missed me?” It makes sense, of course; after all, you’ve missed him, so it’s only natural that he would miss you in return. Still, the sentiment makes you feel all warm and melty on the inside.
It’s obvious to anybody who actually takes the time to know Morpheus—a tiny list of people and beings, two of whom are in the room with him right now—that he’s fighting a war between wanting to scold you and wanting to hold you and check you up and down for wounds. Morpheus crosses the room towards you, and you ready yourself for the inevitable lecture you’re about to get, about how you’re just a fragile little human and he worries every moment that you’re away from him (y’know, now that you have the clarity of a drunk person, you’re actually annoyed that this is constantly coming from the being that’s meant to be your lover).
But that’s not what happens.
Instead, you find his arms wrapped tightly around you and his face buried in your neck. He’s hugging you, not the other way around. He’s never done such a thing before, and you don’t know how to react. What you do know is that any of the residual anger you had been feeling drains out of you like water from an unstoppered bathtub. You really didn’t think that being away for—the math isn’t mathing for you currently, and you don’t actually know how long it’s been—a couple of hours would affect him this much.
“You are the one most dear to my heart,” he mutters into your ear, cognizant of the fact that you are not alone in this throne room. “Of course, I missed you.”
“Oh. When you said you were ‘too busy to entertain’ me, I just kinda assumed you wouldn’t notice I was gone.” Though you don’t mean to weaponize your words, the poison darts make contact with their target anyway, and Morpheus stiffens in your hold.
“Are you alright?” he asks instead, choosing to wait until a later time to have this particular conversation.
“Aw, dream boy” you coo, snaking a hand up to clumsily run it through his hair. “I’m okay baby, swear it! Like, absolutely, one hundred percent fine.”
Morpheus pulls away from you so that he can look you up and down to confirm that you really are okay. “You smell like a pub,” he notes.
“How can you tell that in the Dreaming?”
He ignores your question when a realization seems to hit him. “Are you inebriated?”
“No, I’m drunk,” you correct very matter-of-factly.
“That is–” he stops, choosing instead to just shake his head.
“Oh, dear,” Lucienne mutters from behind Morpheus, reminding you of her presence in the first place.
“Lucienne! Hi! How have you been!”
You crane around Morpheus to be able to see your favorite librarian, but you almost fall over in the process. Before you can tip too far over, Morpheus is there to right you again. When he does, he looks down at you with quite the serious expression on his perfect face.
“Who did this to you?” he asks, ready to punish whoever put you in such a state.
“Vodka. Rum, maybe?” You think back on your drinks for the evening, though it’s hard to think back that far. “Yeah, the second round of shots was definitely rum.”
“You put yourself in this state?”
“Yes?” Has Morpheus never heard of the concept of going out and getting shitfaced with your pals? “To be fair, I didn’t think that my drunkenness would…” You search for the word that you want to use, but it’s just not coming to you! “Uh, carry over?”
“Please tell me you managed to make it home safely?”
You nod. “Sure did! Pretty sure I fell asleep on the floor, though.”
Lucienne slowly begins to back up towards the door, and Morpheus stares at you for a long moment before sighing heavily.
“Are you mad at me?” you ask nervously, starting to get upset the longer the silence drags on. Did you say something that you shouldn’t have? Is there a rule you don’t know about against sleeping on floors?
Instead of answering you, Morpheus waves a hand in the air and says, “This dream is over.”
You’re awake and once again staring up at your ceiling fan, only this time, Morpheus is also in your line of sight. It’s impossible to stop yourself from touching him when you’re sober, so it’s not at all surprising that your hands go up to caress his face now when you’re drunk.
“Hi cutie,” you greet, laughing in delight when he flushes just the slightest amount.
He grabs your hands and kisses the back of both before setting them against your chest. “Why are you sleeping on your floor?”
“Because,” is your simple, childish reply.
“That is not a good answer.”
“It’s the one you get because it’s the one I have.” You throw in a peace sign to be extra spicy, but Morpheus, unfortunately, doesn’t comprehend your 21st-century humor, and instead just segues into the next order of business.
“Might I help you up, so that we can get you properly ready for bed?”
“But I’m comfy,” you groan. Morpheus is not buying what you’re selling, unfortunately, so you sigh. “Fine.”
Morpheus holds his hands out for you to take and helps you to your feet. Too fast, apparently, because the room begins to spin and your stomach tilts dangerously, making you clap a hand over your mouth.
“Oh no. Dizzy, dizzy, dizzy,” you chant, squeezing your eyes shut and laying your head against Morpheus’s shoulder while you try to breathe through sudden nausea. You will not throw up on your super hot eldritch nightmare king boyfriend, you command yourself. Not tonight, and not ever.
“What is wrong?” Morpheus sounds panicked, and you want to reassure him, but you hold up a finger in the meantime.
When the nausea finally passes, you take a deep breath and slowly look up. “Okay, I think I’m good now.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. Sometimes drinking too much combined with moving too fast makes people feel sick. It’s my fault, but I’ll be okay.”
“Are you well enough to move?”
“Yes, I promise.”
To prove your point, you let go of his hand and start walking heel to toe as the police require during field sobriety tests (honestly, you’re a little surprised that you can actually do this right now). You can practically feel your lover's amusement behind you, but it proves to him that you are capable. Morpheus lets you walk to the bathroom on your own power, and you think the only reason he doesn’t sweep you off your feet is because he’s worried you’ll throw up if he does. He watches you intently the entire time, though.
You sit on the lip of the bathtub, watching Morpheus move about your bathroom as though he knows where everything is; he probably does, you realize, whether it be from that endless wealth of knowledge about everyone and everything that he possesses, or just his familiarity with your home. After rummaging around for a few moments, he comes back with a washcloth and your favorite pajamas. The sight of the familiar material makes you tear up, and you sniffle loudly.
Morpheus looks up in alarm. “Are you okay?”
“You remembered my favorite pajamas,” you say, trying to not start crying. You can count on one hand the number of times he’s come directly to see you off to his realm, and you’ve probably worn those pajamas twice. Yet he remembered the one-off comment you had made about how they were your favorite because of course he did.
His face softens. “Of course I did.”
You clear your throat and wipe your eyes. “Sorry. I’m okay! Just drunk.”
Morpheus hands you said pajamas before turning the faucet on and letting the water run. He seems to realize something after a moment and looks at you helplessly. “I do not feel temperature as you do. Is the water alright?”
You grin and stick your hand under the faucet, moving the tap just a smidge hotter before nodding at him. “It’s good now. Thank you for asking.”
He begins to run the damp washcloth gently over your face, a barely-there smile appearing on his own when you wrinkle your nose at the cool sensations. Where this situation would be awkward with anybody else, it feels entirely natural with Morpheus. You’ll take these little moments of domesticity with him whenever you can get them, even when you’re still half drunk.
Even if you wanted to, you can’t hold yourself back from saying, “You’re so beautiful, do you know that? Seriously, you’re the prettiest man-slash-anthropomorphic-personification I’ve ever seen in my entire life.” The words are heavy on your tongue, but you’re pretty proud of the way you only barely stumble through ‘anthropomorphic’.
“You are still under the influence,” he notes.
“So? Drunk words equal sober thoughts, right?”
“‘A drunk mind speaks a sober heart.’ Jean-Jacques Rosseau,” he supplies.
“Sure, that. I’d tell you how pretty you are even if I was sober, and you know that.”
“Perhaps.” He says it in that infuriatingly sexy way of his, the one that makes you want to tear his clothes off.
Instead, you’re the one taking your own clothes off, though not for any fun reason. Getting changed is not as difficult a task as it would have been when you first arrived home, with the benefit of time naturally sobering one up on your side. Morpheus still keeps a hand held out, just in case you lose your balance and need something to grab onto, but after you’ve finished changing, that hand slips under your shirt and caresses your side.
“Thought you were supposed to be helping me keep my clothes on,” you say with a shiver, grabbing his wrist and pulling the offending extremity out from under your shirt.
“Apologies.” His tone implies that he’s not sorry at all, not that you would want him to be. “I simply couldn’t resist.”
He looks down at you with so much love in those blue eyes of his that you feel like you don’t think your mortal mind could ever truly comprehend it. Nobody has ever loved you the way that Morpheus has—all-consuming and passionate. He told you once that many of his relationships had ended because he had been seen as too intense, too obsessive in his love. Bring it on, you had told him when he expected you to back down. To date, you haven’t regretted that.
You don’t think you ever will.
Now that you can see the end of your night in sight, tiredness begins to seep into your bones. Though your bed is just right through the bathroom door, it feels miles away. With that in mind, you ask, “Will you carry me?”
“Were you not worried that you would feel sick?”
“Yeah, but I’m tired.” You pout (on purpose because you know what it does to him), and you can practically see his resolve break. “Just be careful?”
“Always,” he promises.
And careful he is, slowly picking you up and waiting until you nod to carry you to your bed. He sets you down gently, You’re thrilled to see a glass of water already waiting for you on your bedside table, Morpheus anticipating your needs before you’ve even realized you have them in the first place.
Crawling under the covers after finishing your water, you motion for Morpheus to sit next to you on the bed. He does as you ask, and you move your pillows so that you can sit up and lean on him. When you’re comfortable, you say, “Thank you for everything tonight. I know taking care of me wasn’t what you had planned.”
“You need not thank me. I enjoy caring for you, no matter the situation.”
Your eyes flutter closed at the sensation of his hand carding through your hair, and you start to feel yourself inching closer to the Dreaming. Something keeps you from truly falling asleep, though, and when Morpheus shifts next to you, you realize what it is: the conversation’s not over. Morpheus is trying to figure out how to say what it is he wants to say.
Finally, he figures it out. “Might I ask you something?”
You open your eyes to give him your full attention and nod.
“Earlier, when you seemed surprised that I had noticed your absence. Did you do this,” ‘this’ being getting very drunk, “because of what I said?”
“No. I mean, I went out because I was mad at you, and I figured that me being a couple of hours late would make you learn your lesson, but I got drunk because I wanted to have fun with my friends and let loose.”
“And did you?”
“Maybe a little too much,” you admit cheekily.
“I apologize for my harsh words the other day. I have been…feeling burdened under the weight of my realm, and I took it out on you for no reason.”
“It’s okay, Morpheus. You’re busy running an entire realm and overseeing the collective unconscious. I shouldn’t be so needy.”
He shakes his head. “It is not okay. I should never talk to you in such a way, and you should never feel as though I do not want you around. I do want you around, always.”
“People say things that they don’t mean. That doesn’t mean they’re not worthy of forgiveness. But you gotta talk to me, okay? When you’re feeling stressed, or when things get to be too much. I’m here for you, and I want to support you however I can.”
“I love you,” he says. The fact that he’s being so open with his emotions is a pleasant surprise; it took him so long to be the first to say it, and even longer to be comfortable with it. You smile up at him.
“I love you, too. Stay with me until I fall asleep?”
“Of course.”
Morpheus turns your bedroom light off without you needing to ask (seriously, you love him so much), and you close your eyes. Then, a thought hits you.
“Hey,” you say, staring up at him in the dark and waiting until he looks at you to continue. “Can you get drunk?”
“No.”
“Why not? I mean, isn’t there special alcohol for preternatural beings? You’d think gods and goddesses would’ve figured out a way to get turnt by now.”
Though he doesn’t want to give in to your rambling when you’re meant to be trying to fall asleep, he can’t help but indulge you. “Gods and goddesses can. We, the Endless, cannot.”
“What? That’s so fucking lame. No. That’s–that’s an injustice! I’m so sorry.
“I promise, it is okay. Now, please go to sleep.”
You nod, but close your eyes for maybe thirty seconds before they snap open again with a realization. “Wait.”
“What?”
“You mentioned other gods and goddesses. How many are there? Are they all real? Is actual God real? I mean, I know the devil is real, you kicked their ass for your helm, but for some reason that’s more believable than–”
“Go. To. Sleep,” Morpheus commands.
“Ugh, you’re no fun!”
“I am not afraid to use my sand if need be.”
“You wouldn’t.” You raise an eyebrow in challenge, and he raises one right back. After a brief stalemate, you’re the first to give in. “You have to understand how world-altering this information is to a regular human like me, I mean–”
You’re asleep before your head hits the pillow.
#morpheus#morpheus x reader#morpheus imagine#dream of the endless#dream of the endless x reader#dream of the endless imagine#the sandman#the sandman imagine
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KINKTOBER-AKI HAYAKAWA/FREE SPACE
pairing: aki hayakawa x reader
warnings: 18+. spanking.choking. p in v. fingering. oral (f!receiving). female anatomy. slight praise kink. multiple positions. drunk sex. drinking. smoking. slight rough sex.
notes:how is this my first time writing for him and this is the longest thing i’ve ever written? please. also if it’s ooc im sorry. and i finished this at 1am so don’t come for me with the end.
word count-> 2k
kinktober masterlist / taglist
“Here.” You say throwing the pack of cigarettes at your roommate, Aki. He had come home from work moments ago, and you’d realized you’d forgotten to do the one thing you’d promised him…buy him a new pack of beer and cigarettes. He’d gotten a little pissed, which wasn’t unlike him after a shitty day at work as a Devil Hunter, so you let it slide.
Mostly because you so conveniently drank the last beer in the fridge, so you’d had to run to the corner store for both.
“Thanks." Aki said, taking the cigarettes and beer. He looked at you with his normal stoic expression, yet his dark eyes held a flicker of gratitude.
"Sorry I got so pissed before. I had a rough day.” He looks over at you. Your hair is down today and you look really good. He thinks you always look good. Your figure, the way you dress just a little bit revealing. He thinks you do it on purpose to drive him crazy. You’d had sex before, the perks of having a hot roommate, but it had only been a few drunken nights…much like this one.
“It’s cool. I’m sorry I forgot. My memory’s kind of on the fritz lately.” You say, taking a beer and settling down next to him on the couch.
"Yeah, whatever. I’m over it ." Aki says, taking the beer from you. His attention seems to be locked on you, he can't help but stare at your lips. The way they pout ever so slightly. “Let’s just forget about it." He adds, looking away.
“Alright. Deal.” You say, smiling at him. You turn the TV on to some random show and you both sit in comfortable silence watching TV and drinking beers, you make it through the pack quite quickly.
Eventually, Aki grabs his cigarettes and stands up, walking outside towards the balcony for a smoke. You follow behind him.
Aki lights a cigarette, and watches you as you walk towards him, your hips swaying slightly. He can't help but admire the way your body moves. You’ve got such a great body, he thinks to himself.
"Can’t believe you’re drunk already” He says, taking a drag.
“And you’re not?”
“I’m not as much of a lightweight as you." He says. He takes another drag from his cigarette and looks at you.
You giggle slightly, “That’s true.” You take a step towards him, a slight sway in the way you walk thanks to the affects of alcohol. “I think you like me when I’m drunk though.” You tease.
"Maybe." He says, his voice low and husky. His eyes are locked onto yours, admiring the way they sparkle under the dim light of the balcony.
He takes another drag from his cigarette, watching as smoke billows around you.
You wave your hand in the smoke, willing it to disappear. “I think I’m a fun drunk.” You say with a cute little pout.
"Yeah, you're fun." He says, his voice a little deeper from the affects of the booze. “As long as you don’t puke on me." He says, with a slight chuckle, taking another drag from his cigarette, the tip glowing red in the darkneses.
“Hey!” You yell, swatting his arm. “That was one time.” You say in defense. With a playful grin you lean against the balcony railing. The cool breeze brushing against your face.
“I'm kidding." He says, with a smug smile. “Let's go back inside." He takes another drag from his cigarette and then stubs it out on the railing of the balcony.
You follow him inside, the glow of the TV illuminating the room. You lean against the kitchen counter, watching as he grabs another beer from the case.
“Want another?” He asks, extending a beer filled hand to you.
You hop up on the counter, opening your beer and taking a sip. “See, I think you’re trying to get me even more drunk.” You tease, a playful smile graving your lips. “Cause you like me drunk.”
"Maybe." He says, shrugging. He steps closer to stand directly in front of you, looking you up and down as you sit on the counter. He looks in your eyes for a second, before leaning up to grab a bag of chips from the cupboard behind your head. His shirt slightly lifts and your eyes trail along his stomach, admiring his physique.
“Like what you see?" He, asks catching you staring, his voice low. He takes a chip from the bag and pops it into his mouth, watching you closely.
The tension between you is palpable. “Maybe I do.” You shrug. He takes a step closer, setting the bag of chips down next to you. You instinctively spread your legs apart, giving him access to step between them.
“You’re drunk.” He says, leaning in to whisper in your ear. His voice is low and husky and the rich tones make your body shiver.
“So what if I am?”
“Well, if you're drunk, then maybe you don't care."He moves closer to you, your bodies slightly touching. One of his hands reaches resting on your thigh, just barely above the hem of your shorts. “Maybe you want me too."
“Want you to what?” You ask, feigning innocence.
You can feel the heat from your bodies emanating between you. Electricity funnels through you both, a magnetic pull of your bodies. Aki’s hand moves higher up your thigh, closer to the heat between your legs. “Do things that we shouldn't be doing right now."
You suck in a breathe as his hand moves higher and your heartbeat picks up. Your gaze falls from his eyes to linger on his lip before you’re looking back at his eyes again. You say nothing, the electricity surging through your body renders you momentarily speechless.
Aki senses this as his hand finally stops to rest at your hips. He leans in to whisper in your ear, “Do you want me to kiss you?”
All you can do is bite your lip and nod as he leans in to brush his lips against yours. His hands tighten on your waist, pulling you closer to the edge of the counter. He presses his lips to yours in a long lingering kiss, he pulls away to look at you. He smirks at the hunger he can see in your eyes before he leans in to kiss you again.
This kiss is deeper, his tongue traces the edges of your lips seeking permission to enter before sliding inside.
He pulls away slightly, his piercing blue eyes looking through you as a smirk grows on his face. “You taste like beer.”
“So do you.” You say, breathless and eager. You lean in brushing your lips against his again. He pulls you closer, his lips pressing against yours in a hard rough kiss. A kiss filled with hunger, and intense desire.
Aki’s hands navigate the curves of your body, until he finds the hem of your shirt, pulling it off over your head. He admires your body for a second before he’s kissing you again. Your hands travel up his back, gliding your fingertips over his muscles until you reach his hair, gently tugging at the dark strands.
His hands move to your waistband, undoing the button and zipper with quick movements. He pulls your shorts and panties off. Exposing that beautiful sight of your naked pussy. You spread your legs further, and it’s like a beacon calling to him. “Fuck you’re so wet..." he murmurs before he’s down on his knees and diving in, his tongue tracing the outline of your lips.
You let out a soft moan, tugging his hair as he licks and sucks at your heat. His hands grip the flesh of your ass, holding you steady as he devours you. “Fuck…taste so good.” He says, tasting the sweetness of your juices that mingle with the taste of beer on his tongue.
He’s intoxicated. Your taste mixed with the pretty little moans that escape your lips as you tug his hair, is driving him insane. His fingers slip inside you, moving in rhythm with his tongue.
You rut your hips up, chasing more of his tongue as you clench around his fingers. He smiles slightly against your skin, before his tongue is flicking at your clit. He thrusts his fingers deeper, hitting that sweet spot that causes you to moan louder.
“Aki…F-fuck…gunna cum.”
“Cum for me." He murmurs against your skin. His fingers move faster, his tongue whipping around your clit. He can feel it happening, the way your body tenses up, the way you moan his name over and over again. “That’s right..." he says as you explode around him, your juices dripping down his face and covering his fingers.
He pulls back slightly, looking at the mess he's made of you. The way your pussy glistens is amazing. He leans in again, licking up every last drop of your cum from your body. His tongue traces along your sensitive parts, making you gasp and arch into him.
“Aki, please…” You beg, all you can think about now is how bad you want him inside you. He leans in to kiss you, you can taste yourself on his tongue.
"Please what?" He whispers, his hands tracing up your thighs. His eyes are locked onto your body, the way you're shivering under his touch. The thought of being inside you now is driving him crazy. “Fuck you?" he asks, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "I can do that.”
You reach down, helping him to take his pants off as your lips meet again. “So fucking eager.” He groans against your lips as his cock springs free. His hands grip your ass, pulling you against him as his cock slowly sinks inside you.
Soft groans escape him as he feels your gummy walls tighten around his cock, the feeling is almost too intoxicating.
“Best fucking pussy. God, feels so good.” He pulls out almost completely before slamming back in again, each stroke hitting that sweet spot inside you that makes your entire body shiver with pleasure. “Ahh fuck, love this pussy so much.” He moans again, his hips moving faster now. His hands grip your thighs, holding you steady.
He groans again, his thrusts becoming more erratic. The way your pussy clings to him, the sound of your bodies slapping together, it’s almost too much for him. It’s taking everything in him not to cum right there.
"I can't...fuck..." He pulls out suddenly, leaving you feeling empty and needy. “Get down and turn around.”
You oblige, bending over and spreading yourself open for him. He admires your ass, round and firm begging for his touch before he gives it a good slap. Causing you to cry out in pleasure and pain.
He steps closer thrusting inside you from behind, unable to control his movements. His hands grip your hips again, holding you steady as he fucks you hard moving you in sync with his rhythm. He slaps your ass again, admiring the handprint left behind.
“Fuck, come here.” He says turning you around again, he lifts you up with ease and carrys you to the couch. Laying you down and lining himself with your entrance again, he thrusts inside you again. His hips move faster, his cock hitting your service everytime he enters your lush walls.
He comes down to kiss you again, trailing his lips down your body before taking a hard nipple into his lips. His tongue moves around the bud and it causes your moans to become louder. You rut your hips up into his, your nails digging into his back as his thrust become more erratic.
He can feel something start to boil inside him, a coil in his stomach ready to explode. “C-can’t hold on much longer…gunna cum.”
“Cum inside me Aki, fill me all the way up.” You moan, breathlessly in his ear. Those words alone cause him to let go, as he shoots his seed inside you, filling you up.
He rides his orgasm out, before collapsing on top of you. You both lay breathless and sweaty.
After awhile he leans up on his hands above you, kissing you on the forehead and looking in your eyes.
You take a deep breath. Carding your fingers through his hair, stifling a giggle. “Told you that you liked me when I was drunk.”
#aki hayakawa#aki hayakawa x reader#aki hayakawa smut#aki smut#aki chainsaw man#aki x reader#aki x reader smut#aki x you#aki hayakawa x reader smut#aki hayawaka#chainsaw man#csm smut#chainsaw man x reader#csm x reader#csm x reader smut#hayakawa aki
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Drunken
Loossemble's Son Hyeju x Male Reader Smut
19,012 words
Categories | cheating, longtimecrush!Hyeju, mutual feelings, drunk sex, daddy kink (and daddy issues), fingering, squirting, titfucking, anal, choking
Thank you for commissioning! Researched for the fic, ended up falling in love with Son Hyeju. Please give this a chance and read this for the story, too, and not only the smut. I indulged too much in this.
The relationship Hyeju and OC have is very much inspired by the one Cassy and Rob have in In the Woods by Tana French. Read it, please. Was amazing. The story was also written with someone I'm currently so in love with in mind, but we're not going to talk about that here.
And no, there's never enough daddy kink stories :P
“This is not fair,” the two of you say the very second you step into your shared dorm.
Two papers in two hands of two people that show two scores that aren’t up to par for the two’s standards. You and Hyeju were always meant to be a dynamic duo: peas in a pod in every way possible, and that includes academic success and failure. It’s like there’s a kind of telepathic force between you that sends the other down with you, too. It’s too late to try and cut the connection when you’ve known Hyeju all your life, a wish that’s beyond reality for plenty of the boys at Idalso.
The dorm is clean. Mostly. You’ve done your best to tidy up the pile of clothes at the end of Hyeju’s bunk bed and she’s done the same for the relatively empty bags of chips you haven’t stopped the habit of laying around, but there’s still the telltale signs that if Hyeju isn’t organized, you aren’t either. Printed drafts of your thesis lay crumpled on the floor. Her posters are minutes away from falling off the poorly painted walls. The air-conditioner doesn’t work as well as it did in your freshman year when your rowdiness outdoors—knocking into each other, trying to race to the door and ending up messing up the other’s clothes that were ironed in a rush—isn’t as compensating.
Today, the rowdiness is lost. It gets translated into rough groans that follow you on the way to the dorms.
That’s when you realize it.
You and Hyeju look at each other. Both of your pairs of eyes widen.
“Miss Ha failed your test?” she asks, normally bored pupils widening in disbelief.
“Miss Ha failed my test.”
“No erasure rule?”
“No erasure rule.”
“Oh my god.”
“Oh my god.”
Ball up the paper and shoot it in the air. It adds to the numerous pieces of parchment on the floor. You kick the rest of them in the air while your roommate slumps on her bed and groans.
“Fuck this,” you say, hands on your head. There comes the urge to tear all your hair out and leave it at that damned professor’s door, blood and all, to make her at least feel a miniscule bit of remorse for failing you. You didn’t deserve that. You studied and studied and she still had to implement that stupid rule.
Hyeju catches a wrinkled and crumpled paper globe. Her sui generis lips release a soft sigh. “At least we have thesis confetti,” she says sullenly.
“I’m dropping out,” you declare. You’re surprised at how serious you sound. Normally you’d say it just to get a laugh out of yourself, but now you’re actually considering doing it.
“If you drop out, I’m dropping out, too,” she answers, looking at you spitefully. “And then who’s going to take care of Daniel?”
Think of Daniel. He isn’t your roommate but he’s gotten close with you and Hyeju the past few years. “His inheritance is what’s gonna take care of him. Did you forget he’s rich as shit?”
“Oh, right. How could I forget about him?”
You start picking up the papers of your drafts faster and knocking them harder into the wall. Why are you doing that? Nope, don’t have an answer to that. There’s a fiery rage inside you that Hyeju’s latest sentence is the arsonist of.
“The fuck are you doing?” she asks in amusement. There’s a hint of disgust on her face. “Calm down. What’re you, my dad or something?”
“S-sorry.” You know the whole deal she has with her dad. You have to stop—thus, drop the balls of papyrus from your hand. “It was just… I don’t know why I did that.”
Maybe you do. Can’t be about the test though it’s why you started throwing a thesis tantrum.
“Chill out, dude.” She pats your shoulder and gives you a pouty look. “If you want to play strict dad with me: no, I don’t like Daniel. If I did, I would have sat on his lap and said,” she assumes a high voice and flutters her eyelashes at you, leaning on your side, “‘Let me help you with that, darling. I’ll do the dishes, too! Or maybe you want to put a baby in me while I squeeze the soap on your di—’”
“Stoooop!”
Throw a pillow at her. She dodges it and sticks her tongue out at you. Oh yeah. How could you forget that she plays dodgeball with the friend who’s taken up the topic of your conversation?
Oh god, shouldn’t have reminded yourself that Hyeju and your other friend hang out. You’re feeling weird again.
“Earth to daddy, Earth to daddy,” she says, snapping her fingers in front of your face. “Li’l shit, what’s gotten into you?”
You’re feeling something again. It creeps into your heart and tugs at its strings, just like how your roommate loves to tie knots in yours and watch you struggle around trying to walk with them. That’s how it felt when she called you that. It’s not the first time she took on a roleplaying banter with you yet that specific title has you hot.
You need to take a walk. Take a walk to somewhere that doesn’t have you in a place where you could easily pin Son fucking Hyeju to the wall and kiss her till the heat subsides.
-
Walking is your only exercise. You care not for the gyms and weights—why pressure yourself with those when you could just go for a simple walk? An hour is already sufficient enough to burn the breakfast. Only downside is that you get quite hungry afterwards, and though you don’t care for counting calories either, you’re pretty sure the food you have after your strolls is more than the amount you burned.
Actually, you could think of another downside: Hyeju doesn’t join you. She’s a homebody. A couch potato. A living pillow. She prefers to lounge at the dorm and play games instead of going out. She rarely comes along, which is why you’re guaranteed a few hours of isolation.
When you take into consideration that it isn’t isolation if tentative feelings accompany you, you’re partly glad Hyeju didn’t come along.
“Hey, is that you?”
You smile. There he is. You always pass by the apartments this time, and the old man who owns it is one of the few people you’re fond of. Being friends with a landlord wasn’t on your college bingo card, but you’re glad it happened. He’s kind, has white hair that almost matches the color of the spaces he owns, and a mouth that can simultaneously be like that of a sailor’s and a doting grandfather.
“Hi, mister Kim.”
“Hi there yourself,” he chirps. His smile is bright. Can’t say the same about the flickering bulb back in your dorm. “Where’s your girlfriend?”
Red colors your cheeks. “Hyeju’s not my girlfriend.”
“Never said she was.” He winks.
The explosion of scarlet first starts at your ears. He got you. But it isn’t exactly you to blame—everyone likes to push you and your girl best friend together. The old man knows what he’s doing. He just likes to toy around with you.
“Mister Kim, don’t be like that,” you say. Scratch the back of your neck.
“I’ll be however the hell I want,” he replies, crossing his arms t in a friendly stance. “You two’re always glued to each other.”
“We’re just friends, sir.”
“Just friends my ass. Whenever that girl visits me, she’s always talking about you. It’s like you’re the only thing on her mind.”
That revelation was so out of nowhere, yet you welcome it. You like knowing that Hyeju, the girl you adore, adores you just as much. It’s the mutual feeling of fondness that keeps you breathing.
“T-that doesn’t mean anything,” you say humbly. You’re somewhat right—just because Hyeju hides the truth that she drones on about you doesn’t mean she has a crush on you. You’ve seen and met her exes, and even back then they’re miles more charming than you.
“Wanna bet?”
“I’m broke—”
“No, no. Not in that way.” He shakes his head. “If you and Hyeju actually end up together, I’m letting you live in one of my apartments for free.”
“Mister Kim—”
“Think about it for your old man, will you?”
With that, he shows you a knowing smile and turns his back. Nothing more is said.
-
Just so it’s clear for everyone who comes across this story of yours: you don’t love Son Hyeju.
Anyone and everyone says the opposite. They treat you and her like famed characters on a popular teen show, pairing you up with each other and tearing off all hesitancy about thinking that they might be going too far.
But now you’re here to make a stand against those falsehoods: contrary to popular belief, Son Hyeju isn’t the love of your life, and although you’ve been friends for so long people’d expect you walked into kindergarten class with your hand in hers, it’s completely platonic between the two of you.
There are no feelings. No speck of a disgusting yearning in your hearts despite the late night stroll you had to take to stop your wistful thoughts. No sir. Hyeju doesn’t love you that way, and neither do you. It’s simple.
Doesn’t seem that simple when you wake up in the dorm with what’s supposed to be a groan that folds itself back down your throat when you see her curled up in the other bed, blankets splayed and curled around her. No makeup on, except for lip balm she smears around her triangle-shaped mouth when they get chapped. No care for how she looks in the air (doesn’t matter when that’s the way you like it, the way she likes it). She lies there with slumber that could only be induced by an unmerciful college.
You’re glad you have her while you’re battered by the same cause of her sleep.
You try to be silent but her eyes open anyway. Her eyes are squinted, and she kind of looks like an emoticon as she pers around. She doesn’t know when or where she is. Grin because neither do you sometimes, but now that you hold that knowledge, you share it with her.
“Earth to Hyeju, Earth to Hyeju.” Echo her words from last night and resound them back to her.
“Earth?” she groans. “Wake me up when Idalso sends me to Mars.”
Yeah, that’s the Hyeju you know. The Hyeju you love.
(Huh? Where did that come from?)
“I’ll go with you. Could use miss Jeong not trying to kill me.”
Hyeju runs a hand through her hair groggily and smiles sweetly. “Maybe she should come along and go through with killing you if you don’t stop ‘forgetting’ to pay me that five thousand.”
“Cute. I’ll pay you later, I promise.” Rise to sling the blinds up, letting light five-thirty a.m. sun spill through the squares. “Catch some breakfast at McDonald’s before class?” you offer. She’s your usual companion in the morning—you’d split the bill (because “you’re broke, and I’m broke,” she said, “it’s only fair we try to stop being poor together”) and have a nice opening meal of egg and chicken nuggets.
“Sweetie, it’s Saturday today,” she reminds you. “Don’t you remember?” She looks up from her phone and smiles at you condescendingly, as if she knew how that friendly nickname causes your system to shut down.
You try not to show it. Try not to make it obvious that you turned your head to hide the fact that you were flustered. The fact that despite being only friends with her your chest still tightens at her casual pet names for you, like what she called you last night as well. It’s what friends do: joke with each other, call them unflattering names one second then sweet ones the next. The dorm has enough fans to keep the air circulated, and the sweat you broke last night is gone. So if that’s that, why do you feel so warm right now?
You wonder if Hyeju also feels the same heat in her stomach when you say, “Grandpa can’t remember things well anymore, darling. You’ve got to cut him some slack.”
“Wow, okay. That’s one way to put it, I guess.”
It’s lucky that it’s still dark enough for your red ears to be invisible. You hate it when you mess up your laid-back persona in front of Hyeju, the one you put up whenever you engage in these playful arguments. “Look,” you say, “do you want to get McDonald’s or not?”
“Can’t. Won’t. Shan’t. Too lazy.”
Your heart sinks. “Fine, I’ll just go to a café then. Still have that thesis to do.”
Hyeju lays back into the bed and shuts her eyes. She’s learned that when there’s a chance to sleep, she should take it. To you, it doesn’t look like she’ll let go of this one, even if rejecting it means eating together with you.
You put on a coat and some shoes, then turn away. Fine, let her be like that. What did you even expect? You can’t be her only priority in life. Sleep, of course, and rest should come first, especially if you’re a college student. You have to brush the hurt creeping in your heart and do your own thing, just like you’d let her do hers.
Don’t catch her eyes opening and lingering on you. Your back is turned and therefore doesn’t let you see it. But if only you did, you wouldn’t have been doubtful about your future concerns, all related to her.
-
This is a different story though. This isn’t a love story—if anything, it’s how a love story ends.
-
Just so it’s clear for everyone who comes across this story of yours: you don’t love Son Hyeju.
Yes, it bears repeating. Sometimes you need to say it again to convince yourself. Convince yourself that you’re not constantly in lectures wishing that it was her beside you instead of your groupmate. Convince yourself that your soul doesn’t shatter in pieces when she refuses to join you in anything.
Maybe you just need someone to talk it out with. Yes, that’s right. The whimsical yearning in your heart isn’t for Hyeju. You swear on it.
Oh, but you’ve never been very good at that.
“What’s going on? I came as quick as I could,” says Daniel. Yeah, that’s his name. It’s a common name that sounds foreign and unique, especially since he’s a transfer student who came from the U.S.. He has pale skin and brown eyes that are as kind as he is. You like him—he’s the only one you bother bearing besides Hyeju.
But this isn’t about her. You need to let go of her. What? “Let go of her”? Why do you think about her like you two were actually a thing?
“Nothing. Just… feelings.”
“Something happened?” He sits down and looks around confusedly. “Wait, where’s Hyeju?”
“That’s the thing,” you say as you smile tightly. “She’s what happened.”
Daniel’s not stupid. And even if we say that he was, he’s been your friend for two years. It’s short in comparison to your time with Hyeju, you know, but it remains impressive. You don’t have that many friends besides them. That, of course, eventually led to Hyeju and Daniel becoming friends with each other. That’s the reason for him catching your drift—he knows you like the back of his hand.
You order the third cheapest option on the list: an iced latte. Your friend opts for a croissant and some tea, something that reminds you that he isn’t actually from Korea. You often forget that when his Korean is more fluent than a native’s and he gels with other people so quickly. He’s an easy-going guy with everything flowing well for him.
“Let me guess: she did something?” he asks. Alright, close enough. His fingers drum a steady rhythm on the table while yours do so on your laptop keyboard.
“Yeah.” Shake your head immediately and contradictingly. What are you saying? “No. Yeah, probably. But I think it’s my fault.”
No, it isn’t a mere probability of it being your fault. It is your fault. Why are you placing expectations on Hyeju to show up for you? It isn’t on her that you get hurt when she doesn’t have the time or willpower to come along with you. So, why are you even bothering to talk about this? You should let this matter slide. Brush it under the carpet. Rewrite the news headlines. Whatever.
“Ah, couple’s quarrels,” Daniel says teasingly. He thanks the waiter for his croissant then takes a healthy bite into it. “Out of the honeymoon phase already?”
Should you be delighted that people think that she’s yours and you’re hers? You’re split between these two emotions—choose to be frustrated instead.
“Why does everybody think that we’re a couple?”
“Well.” Your friend twirls his teaspoon into the dainty cup. Drill your eyes on it. The café is simple and affordable to eat from, but the furniture and aesthetic make you think of it as a fancier place to eat it. “You’re always together.”
“That’s all?”
“Let me finish. When some guy has the balls to ask her out, she says she has a boyfriend. She shows him your profile and number. She goes, ‘My boyfriend wouldn’t be too happy about that.’”
The latte somehow doesn’t finish its journey through the straw. “She does?”
You’re split between two thoughts to go by again. You should be happy that your friend, a friend who’s a girl moreover (never confuse a friend who’s a girl with a girlfriend—ever), feels safe enough with you to refer to you as someone who’d protect her, whether from creeps or the aggressive dogs that patrol your college grounds. It takes real trust to call a guy who’s a friend (again, avoid the confusion) your boyfriend when the time requires it. This means she trusts you to come to her if she needs saving from an odd guy or an escape out of situations.
But at the same time, you wonder if that’s what you really are to her, what you’ll only ever be to her: a fake boyfriend. The guy friend who doesn’t mind being called a boyfriend because he knows his low place in her heart. Does Hyeju even look at you as someone who’s not just an acquaintance?
“Yeah,” Daniel says matter-of-factly. “She really likes having you around.”
You don’t need to think about it when you reply, softly: “I do, too.”
The two of you sit in silence you don’t know the source of. Daniel stops eating suddenly. Similarly, all the appetite is lost and you have to put your plastic cup of latte down before you throw it at the wall and ruin the dining experience for everyone else. No, this is your problem. You should deal with it before dragging anyone into it.
“So, why did you call me? What is it about Hyeju?”
Ah, what are you thinking? Daniel shouldn’t even be here. Why did you even call him over? You did and now you don’t know why you suddenly want to throw the contents of your plastic cup into his face. If you give in, you’d be feeding into the delusion that he’s the one standing between you and Hyeju.
That only leads to the second question of the day:
Why do you suddenly hate Daniel? Daniel is a nice guy. He doesn’t even make a move on her or disrespect her.
You don’t like these feelings. It’s causing you to think all sorts of nonsense about everybody else, not excluding Daniel, who hasn’t done anything wrong.
“I…” Sigh. This is the second time you’re finding an escape route so that you could be alone with your feelings. “I have to think about it. I need some time alone.”
“Oh, sure. Sorry about that.”
Hate how more guilt washes over your heart. See here, he doesn’t even protest or say something that might even be right, like tell you how you called him to come over in the first place or how there isn’t a good reason why he should leave. He simply wraps his croissant with a plastic he asked for at the counter and leaves, tea and all.
Great. Now you’re alone, like you usually are and always will be. Attempt to use it as a pro and work on your thesis. Type it all down on a Word document. Wait patiently, as you learned to, as your old laptop stops for the suffering you’ve caused it with the extra storage taken up by assignments. Contact your groupmates. Remind them to do their jobs.
It’s all going so well. That’s when she pulls up to the cafe you’ve been writing at with her hands perched on the wooden surface of your table, with the smirk that doesn’t ever leave without making sure it’s her certified look featured on her lips.
No need to mention names when there's only one girl who could make your world stop spinning.
You can’t stop staring, and it’s not even because she turned up out of nowhere. You’re always in a state of shock when Hyeju is around.
She never allows her hair to be restrained in a tight tail, so there she is with those luscious black locks spilling all over her shoulders. How she manages to look so cool and be the very person everyone wishes to be while having those soft cheeks only the evillest of people wouldn’t pinch you don’t know. Son Hyeju is cool and cute at the same time, somehow balancing those everyday without effort.
But you don’t love her. Just to remind everyone once again. No matter what happens, you have no feelings for her. And that’s that.
"Hey," she says, putting her weight on one arm. Then she curves down her head to peer at your screen. "Whatchu doin'?"
Immediately slam your laptop shut and look at her with annoyed eyes. Oh, why do you even try? You could never despise her. You could pray to god all night and day for you to hate Hyeju, to hate her to the ends of the Earth just to banish these strange feelings, and he wouldn't give in. Crazier and crazier her antics shall get and you'd remain loyal to her.
And that's all because she's a good friend. That's everything there is to it.
Wait. Who are you convincing again?
"Oh, come on. Smile a little, pretty boy." Hyeju places a finger on one edge of your mouth then pulls it upwards. "There you go. Suh-miiile—"
Pretty boy. She called me a pretty boy.
"You p-plan on getting off the table or what?" you say.
People are staring at you and Hyeju but that isn't what's making you blush. What's gotten into you? You can't tell yourself it's because of her simply because it isn't because of her. Hyeju has as much effect on you as a cup of coffee.
(You thrive off caffeine, by the way, but that's not the point.)
"Sure. No. Uh… probably?" She looks up at the ceiling as if she's figuring something out, then clicks her tongue when she does. "Yep, nah."
Groan.
Secretly, confessed only in the deepest corners of your mind, you like people paying attention to you and Hyeju. It’s not much about the attention itself but the way it makes them think that the two of you must be really close. Like, really really close. The kind that makes those who want Hyeju rush to her only to be met in the face with a barrier: you. They can’t have her because you do.
Not in that way, of course, but it still means something. If she has you, nobody else could, and if you have her, more so.
"Son Hyeju,” you say, fighting back the smile on your face as she ruffles your hair, “I swear to god—"
"Oh, please," says Hyeju, leaning forward with narrowed eyes and a wicked smile, "spare me, oppa. Spare me the blasphemy—"
That's enough from her, you think. Your hands dive for her waist. Pull her down onto your lap. Your thighs soften the blow and also play the role of a launch pad as one kick sends Hyeju in the air. More chances to tickle her come along with it. Okay, that bit about the lap was wholly unintentional, and you'll swear to god again for that.
What isn't unintended though is the tickling you do on Hyeju's midriff and arms. It helps that she's so sensitive—soon she's laughing boisterously, struggling in your lap with her head upturned and triangle-shaped mouth letting out unkempt guffaws. She nearly kicks the two of you out of the café seat.
"Dude, you are such a loser, stop!" she laughs, still winding around like a screw on top of you. Laughs alternate between each syllable. "P-people are looking, fffucking quit—"
When that beautiful gummy smile breaks on her face, you don't want to. People can look as much as they like and you wouldn't give a damn. Tickling is Hyeju's punishment, and you'll do it to her anywhere to teach her a lesson.
"Ha, haha, I'm sorry, okay!"
"That's my girl."
You’re not hurt anymore. For a few delicious minutes, you’ll forget you were ever pondering if you like her or not.
Stop completely because you’re easy to convince like that All she needed was that one magic word. Place her on the chair beside you and fold her hands on her lap as if she were a misbehaving child.
"Now behave yourself."
Hyeju rolls her eyes. "And if I don't?" she challenges you.
You raise your fingers in a curled position and direct them threateningly centimeters away from her ticklish spots. She gives up. She can't find a punishment worse than that.
"Why are you here anyway? I thought you didn’t want to come," you say, taking the liberty to open your laptop again. The screen directs you to your assignment tab after you type in your password. Sigh; still five thousand words to go.
"I'm here because I've got nowhere else to be," she answers. She practices her own liberty, too, and sips shamelessly at your iced beverage.
Her eyes light up at the taste. "I got bored being alone in the dorm."
You think of her alone, and your heart immediately sinks. Maybe you should have stayed there. You’re her roommate—you’re there for her to have company. Sure, the roommates were paired up randomly, but it must lead to something now that you and Hyeju have met again. It was by pure chance that she reunited with you after years of being apart. There’s a string drawing you together, and you don’t know what it means.
You do know that the reunion with your childhood best friend and seeing how she’s grown made your heart flutter. You act all mean when you’re around her, which is confusing when you’ve missed her so much.
"And I needed somewhere else to finish this thesis before miss Wong realizes it was due three weeks ago." Glare pointedly at her. Here you go again. Told you so. "Somewhere that's not occupied by a brat."
It's true. Call it what you will: an insult, a pointless accusation, but what you said rings true even in your childhood best friend's defiant mind. She could be a handful often.
"I am not a brat," she says, offended. She knows the truth and chooses to deny it. Typical. You should have seen that coming when she’s the girl who lies about the extra dishes in the sink not being her fault and her turn with the laundry.
Sigh. Act as the lawyer; you’re studying to be one anyway. It’s best to practice. "Remember when you cut up the slogan on the mayo label then taped it on me? I had 'white creamy filling; taste me!' on my back for the whole day!"
"It was a big-ass sticker for a mayonnaise, okay? I couldn't stop myself." Hyeju admits this with hands raised in defeat. "But what about that time you shoved a Toblerone in my mouth while I was sleeping then took a photo of me?"
Raise your hands, too. You realize there's no way to weigh in the blame on a single person when you and Hyeju brought the brat out of each other. It's impossible to go by a day that isn't filled by at least one prank and joking quarrels.
Still, you find it fun. Hyeju's so easy to bond with, so easy to love.
Whoa, where did that suddenly get here? Like you said, you love Hyeju, but only as a friend.
So you do love her, in a way. Huh.
That realization settles in and suddenly you're rendered frozen at the table. Your hands that ought to be finishing your schoolwork are frozen in mid-air. You're staring at the screen like you were watching a gory movie instead of trying to tick off your to-do list.
"You okay?" she asks, one-of-a-kind lips sealed around the paper straw. "You kind of, like, went to another dimension for a bit."
How do you tell her you’re considering the fact that you might actually like her? You’ve known her for years. Something’s inevitably going to bloom inside you for her, right?
"Y-yeah. I'm good." Not. “And stop drinking my coffee.”
“You wouldn’t need it if you just did the thesis early. What’s so hard about it anyway?” Hyeju stands then bends over to glance at your laptop.
You don’t realize how short her dress is. It rides up to the centers of her thighs and you don’t know how to prevent anyone from seeing something forbidden without brushing down the hem of her dress. If you went down that road, you’d have to run your hand along her back and ass—you’d look like a pervert.
Idiot. Think of something. Something that isn’t how you’d love to see more when you're just like everyone and shouldn't be allowed more eye access to her body. Only you know how many times Hyeju’s body came up in your mind when you were alone. Paired up with that attractive face that held a permanent pout, it’s impossible not to think of anything else.
“Ugh! You are so dumb, you know that, oppa?” To your horror, Hyeju sits down neatly on your lap. She has her hands quickly frisking on your keyboard. “There’s a comma missing here, and a citation over here… oh, and a—”
“Save some for the rest of us!” a man about your age and height yells jokingly, cheering you on with a raise of his mug of hot coffee.
Both you and Hyeju look at him with confusion written all over your faces. Your words of surprise almost sync and match with the other for you realize your hands are on her hips, and Hyeju’s leaning back so comfortably in you that anyone would have thought it was another case of couple’s PDA. They’d be wrong though. She’s not your girlfriend. She can’t be your girlfriend.
So why is she so comfortable on top of you, as if she’s always been there? Why did your hands naturally rest on the beautiful slopes of her hips and pull her down the moment she stooped?
The guy’s grandmother smiles adoringly. “Young love,” she says with a dreamy tinge to her aged voice. "What wouldn't I give to experience that again."
You and Hyeju meet each other’s gazes and suddenly you’re unattached to each other. She guiltily settles on her chair and you take your hands off her. That was wrong. Why were the two of you so comfortable with being so touchy? Best friends don’t do that. At least, not best friends of the opposite sex.
“I should go,” she stammers, standing up. “Call me i-if you need help, oppa.”
Just like that, she’s gone. Where did she go? Why did you lose her so fast?
-
Hyeju’s always called you oppa one way or another, but that moment left a particular jar in your heart. It shards the depths of the core and renders you speechless. You didn’t know that the person you’d love to hear that title the most from is your best friend. She’s supposed to call you that when she’s younger, but even if she weren’t, you’d still love to hear her call you that.
There’s a sense of fulfillment in being able to be Hyeju’s oppa. The one she always relies on. The one she sticks to through whatever happens. That’s why now that she’s told you to call her if you need help makes you ache. It’s the things that are seemingly so simple as that that send more yearning inside you.
The question is: what exactly are you yearning for? Who are you yearning for?
You think you know the answer. It’d take guts to admit it, to finally come clean. But what’s there to come clean about? You don’t love Hyeju.
A ding from your phone just now. You’re nearly finished with the thesis, and it’s lucky that way since it’s from Hyeju. God knows she has ways of distracting you. Her clean moves at the dance she led and her chill yet stern voice when she commands a rowdy classroom steer you away from what you should be doing, like get away from her. Avoid her at all costs. Never tell her what you’re feeling because it’ll only end up badly for everyone involved. You don’t want to hurt Hyeju, and still you remain hopeful to not get yourself hurt, too.
It takes several seconds for courage to tie you down and pick up the phone. It’s a series of texts from her.
HyejU_U: hey
Sooooooooo
I’m sorry for what happened earlier.
I didn’t really think and thought that you'd be fine with it
cause yknow
You pulled me down
and
We’re friends.
right?
Yeah, we’re friends, you think bitterly. And no matter how touchy you get, Son Hyeju, it’s all we’ll ever be to you.
HyejU_U: can we just move forward from it? If you want to ofc
Do you? Graduation is near and it’s still taken plenty of years of your life to get over Hyeju. Do you go forward and start on a new slate with her, or dwell in places you shouldn’t be?
Your fingers linger on the keyboard, then—
You: Sure.
Sorry, too
if i like
Made you feel uncomfortable
Wasnt my intention, i promise
HyejU_U: oh you didnt make me feel uncomfy at all.
So don’t worry <3
What a relief.
HyejU_U: i should be the one apologizing anyway
I thought it would be nice to be on you since ur arms feel good around me
Cock a brow. A giddy smile itches at the ends of your lips. Stifle it you will, though she can’t see you through her screen.
HyejU_U: sorry again
i just wanted to see if what i thought was true
Anyways.
yeah, sorry.
You: so we’re good?
HyejU_U: we have a deal, dickface
;)
See, this is the thing you’re afraid to lose with Hyeju: the carefreeness of your little friendly touches and hugs, insults that take it just far enough, everything. If you told her how you felt (keep in mind that you might not actually like her romantically; you’re just thinking that you might), you’d lose your relationship with her—the one that formed before the two of you even knew what romance was. The one that’s kept the reunion as natural as could be without the need for awkwardness.
You’re so glad to have her back. As a student you’ve nearly cried knowing you passed a semester and worked night and day to finish a difficult assignment—none of those feelings can match the one of relief you felt when Hyeju told you everything was good on both ends.
But for now, you’ve gotta try to put a dent into this thesis. You’re almost done, you swear. You’ve just been stalling—not intentionally. You swear on that, too. Your whole afternoon’s been swamped up in thoughts about her plus the thoughts about if you’re too perverted a man to be with her. There are a lot of questions left by you immediately responding to Hyeju choosing to sit on your lap. A lot of which are left unanswered.
Priorities. Sigh a little; there’s still work to be done, yet worrying about your best friend is on top of the list. You really should find a hobby when you’re already dragging your teammates behind. Plus, there’s the capstone to worry about that you haven’t prepared for even in the most miniscule bit. So there really shouldn’t be an explanation for why thinking about what she thinks of you is your number one priority. Why, you have plenty of other things to worry about.
You just can’t get her off your mind. These days it’s impossible to.
Abstain anyway, the best you can, from thinking about her and finally complete the thesis. It’s lengthy, well-edited, and has the perfect format to finally make you a lawyer. Attorney doesn’t sound too bad when it’s added to the front of your name.
You should celebrate, actually. The moment you think of it, Daniel suddenly messages you. He’s saying something about it being a Saturday, so you should go to the bar with him. You’re a social drinker, anyway. You could go there without going overboard. Addictions and vices form in these years of fresh adulthood, but you’ve never found yourself wound up in something.
So you do. They ask for your IDs and let you in after a short study of the cards. The guard gives you a lengthy lecture about not being alcoholics as young as you are, but welcomes you anyway.
If we’re talking about getting yourself wound up in someone, though…
“Dude,” Daniel says. He motions his glass to someone coming from the door. “Hyeju.”
You already know he’s rich, but what teacher did he pay to study him into mind-reading? “I wasn’t thinking about her,” you tell him defensively.
“No, I mean, she’s here.” He stares at said woman walking over to the bar with swaying hips. “How the fuck did she get here?”
Hyeju’s here? Swallow. Quick. What do you say? Where exactly in the bar is she right now? Why is she here? When did she get here? Why the fuck are you talking like a news reporter?
“Hullo, boys.” She stops your train of thought and makes sure to dedicate all of them to her with her hands set on the table and a pretty crop top attached to the curves on her perfect body. You wonder where she got that dress. If she thrifted it, it isn’t obvious—her body does good work in making it look like couture.
“Hi, Hyeju.” Daniel acknowledges her with a nod. He’s a friend of yours and hers, just to remind everyone. He wouldn’t take another step with Hyeju, but you still have yourself staring daggers into his stubbled beard that lines his face and how he takes life as he would a game. There’s a reason why you’re the least tipsy among the two of you. He likes a challenge.
“Hi,” you say meekly. Hope your voice doesn’t sound twisted when your stomach suddenly is. Oh, and it’s not because of Hyeju. It’s the alcohol, pinky promise with a finger heart after. Alcohol’s never made your stomach turn this way though.
Hyeju regards the shotglasses. “You went drinking without me?”
“What does it look like?” Daniel asks, giving her the finger. It’s just the usual friendly argument that doesn’t cross lines or anything. The ones that you and Hyeju have. Why do you feel like punching him in the face?
Luckily, she doesn’t have a fragile heart. “Cute. Keep it that way.” She rolls her eyes then turns to you. “Oh, and you. I thought you liked having me around.”
“I’m sorry.” Ask the bartender for another shot then hand it to her. “I guess we just thought you were busy with training.”
She’s training to become an idol. It’s been her dream since she was a kid, when you played in the slides and dropped from monkey bars. She’s always told you she was going to be big someday, and you never doubted that for a second. She even had a name she planned to use if she were to be a performer: Olivia Hye. You weren’t gonna lie, it had a nice ring to it. Not too bad for a name she made up after skimming through a baby name book from the bookstore.
“I dropped out,” she says simply, downing the shot like water.
“What?” you and Daniel ask together. Both of your voices sync with the shock, too. Neither of you could get why she did that. It’s been Hyeju’s dream to become an idol for so long. She couldn’t give that up just like that, but she did.
“Yep.” There’s pride in her voice. “The whole thing was a shithole. I already have Idalso to deal with. I’m not gonna put up with that, fuck no.”
Your heart aches for her dream. Idalso University really is blocking her from achieving it. She could be out there on the stage, maybe having found a better agency, singing and dancing her heart out. Instead, she has to choose one problem at the time and hence goes with college. She has her own parents to please, and because you have yours, you get it. You truly do.
As for Hyeju getting a problem off her mind, like that terrible agency, your spirits lift. You raise a glass and clink it with hers.
“To getting the hell out of this shithole,” you say; look at the girl you’ve lived for and loved with a smile, “and Son fucking Hyeju for doing it again.”
Your glasses meet. You’re somehow happy that it’s only two, yours and hers, that join. You can’t explain it for the life of you, but you like seeing Daniel become like a background character to it all. Just another extra in Hyeju’s show and yours. It’s cruel, especially when he’s been nothing but a good friend, but it is what it is.
“Tell you what,” Daniel says. “Let’s go to a noraebang tomorrow.”
She’s contemplative. “Isn’t the one near Idalso… like, expensive?”
“So what?” He shrugs. “You did it, Hyeju. You got out of that company thing. I’m done with my capstone and so is he with his thesis. I say we all have some fun. On me.”
Daniel has the privilege of not worrying about things being expensive or not. It’s the norm for him. You kind of want him to play Dorothy and put himself in your shoes, then make him go through what you did.
You know it isn’t fair and he’s just being kind. Still and all, your hatred rises.
“What now?” Daniel asks. “You guys in!”
“Of course!” Hyeju nods and claps her hands together. There’s a gummy smile on her face again. You’ve seen it on her many times, but you’ve also seen the sunset everyday—therefore, you’ll still be glad to catch a glimpse of it.
You guess since she’s in, you have to go, too. You say yes and that of course you’d love to go, and this time three glasses clink together prettily. Smiles are on each of your faces albeit yours is artificial.
"Could you act any less like a deadbeat dad?" Hyeju asks. She sits down on the stool beside you after Daniel leaves to get some air. Still feels like he's here when you feel like everyone's eyes are on you and her.
"I'm not doing anything." You say that because you aren't. You definitely aren't stirring a brew of jealousy inside you that poisons the maker, too. You're its creator yet the prophecy that was written tells that it'll turn against you, too. You’re Kronos, and it's an inevitable fate.
"Exactly. That's what deadbeat means." This matter-of-fact statement from her is followed by Hyeju stealing your shotglass out of your hand right before you drink it. "Seriously, dude. What's up with you?"
Oh, you don't know. Maybe her possibly being your crush? It's such an immature matter, but you haven't had a crush like this. The others were just sweet-faced and from afar. Those are the girls you dream of. To have a girl like Hyeju, the one you've known since forever, with a spunky personality but an opposing pretty face, the one who's been your ride-or-die—it's complicated.
What else could you say to her when the truth is something you'd rather she not hear?
"I'm fine, Hye."
"Are you? You look…" She thinks about it for a while as she studies your hair and poorly combined outfit choices. She slicks your blunt strands back and smiles teasingly. "...sleazy."
"Fuck y—"
"Shhh." She places a finger on your lips. The side of her thigh touches your lap. You're so close that any word you utter won't pass without hitting her. "It's okay. I like it."
You purse your lips. You didn't expect that. She's taken seats on your lap that were uninitiated by you and let you lift her in the air when you hug her. All that and her fingers in your hair are the most surprising.
"You're drunk," you say, although she’s only had a few shots.
Hyeju inches closer to you and holds your chin in place. "I'm sober as the next wolf, sweetie," she tells you. Her next words fail to show her hesitance. "And… and it just so happens that I really, really want to kiss you."
She's joking. She's playing around with your heart. You're not a virgin—you know what girls do. Hyeju doesn't strike you as the type to do that in spite of what’s going on, but you have to be careful. Your heart’s been bruised too many times already.
Careful isn't the word for it when you take the first step and lean in for a kiss. Maybe you're drunk yourself. Dizziness enchants your mind as Hyeju's dreamy lips perfectly pout to the shape of your mouth. Her eyes are closed. It's like she's in a restful dream.
You can’t believe you’re doing it. You’re kissing her. Passionately, too—there’s real determination in the way you hungrily lean forward to devour her lips.
The bar oohs and ahhs, then erupts into a crowd of applause. A few whistles come your way. You can feel Hyeju smile into your mouth.
-
Proclivities upon proclivities to keep her around you and only you couldn’t stop Monday from coming. You’ve only been to a noraebang once and that was with your family. It excites you to go to one again. However, you’d rather have only Hyeju to come, to be the exclusive member of the club that gets to hear her soft, pretty voice echo in the mic.
She’s really doing a number on you. Daniel’s your friend—sure, he might be out of touch with the local games and experiences, yet he’s still important to you. You can’t be mad at him over a girl who probably doesn’t even think the kiss at the bar was anything special. She hasn’t even talked about it with you and acts like it didn’t happen. Just another boy, just another day. That’s probably how you are to her.
Ouch. Way to go hurting yourself with your own made-up scenarios. As expected from you.
The three of you decide to cut classes. It’s not like you’re in high school anymore. Professors just don’t give a fuck, unless it’s miss Wong. She’s pretty and quiet at first. Then you have to wait to see her get angry—that’s when all hell breaks loose.
No hell on the loose today. Just three little demons from hell called Hyeju, Daniel and yourself down on the loose and down the road to the noraebang. Hyeju’s in a loose black jacket and a plain white tee. You somehow notice that more than Daniel who’s sporting a graphic shirt with swear words from every language printed on it. You don’t have much to say about your attire when it’s nothing special, not even compared to Hyeju, who’s wearing simple clothes like you.
“If a teacher sees us out here—” says Daniel nervously. He’s never rebelled before. The most he’s done is missing a class.
“No one will,” Hyeju promises him, opening the door of the place for the two of you though in your opinion it should be the other way around: you opening the door for her. What better way to show Hyeju that you could be a gentleman? Too late now. Plus, she doesn’t care much for that. That’s what keeps your excitement on a low burn. It takes more than opening a door and waiting around to impress Hyeju.
You sign your names at the front. Daniel picks a nice, wide room with a glass table perfect for chips and bottles. The bright screen already shows snippets of K-pop music videos, involving sweet-faced Korean girls waving at the camera and running along a beach. As boyish Hyeju is compared to other girls, you could definitely see her doing that for her passion of becoming an idol.
“What should we sing?” asks Hyeju, sitting down on the black plush seats comfortably. Her gummy smile is precious.
“Anything you want.” He slings an arm around her. His looped arm tugs her into a warm embrace. “Anything for the soon-to-be lawyer slash K-pop idol.”
Stiffen. Turn away and suddenly take good interest in the walls with a carved 3D effect. Much more interesting than whatever Daniel’s trying to pull on your best friend. Right, Hyeju’s your best friend. Nothing more. That kiss was a drunken mistake. You shouldn’t be getting angry. Besides, this noraebang was rented for you to have fun, not glower at Daniel doing nothing but be a good friend.
Hyeju laughs and leans into him gladly. “Stop, you’re gonna make me throw up!”
You feel out of place all of a sudden. Has she always been that affectionate with him? You thought that those touches and hugs were reserved for you only. Apparently not.
“Sing a song, Hye.” Your eyes don’t meet her gaze.
“They wanted me to debut with this song,” she says. The mic is shaky in her hand. “I—” She blushes. “I want to sing it for you.”
Sweetness infiltrates the air. It’s not of a scent or touch, but of hearing. It's Hyeju’s voice. It's smooth and soft as it passes through the empty atmosphere. No instrumental accompanies her voice, and you’re glad it’s that way. It allows you to marvel at Hyeju’s tone, quiet in spite of its sexiness.
And it takes that and several songs later, sung daringly by all of your trio, and jokes passed among friends that make you think about it. Really think about it. While Daniel and she sing their hearts out to the point of their voices cracking and laughs transforming into guffaws, you sit there and submerge yourself in thought.
You’ve seen Hyeju smile. It's pretty and sweet; her triangle-shaped mouth curls up into a half moon and it's everything you've ever wished for in life. No, fuck food. Fuck oxygen. All you need is her smile. It's cheesy as hell when you page through those types of quotes in those teenage romance books you probably shouldn't even be holding, but you swear that if Hyeju smiles for the rest of her life, it's enough for you to live. She just looks so pretty. Her resting bitch face, stone cold as the title of the expression suggests, is hot (yes, you're using that word), but when she chooses to smile—oh, you're as good as dead.
You don't like Son Hyeju though.
You’ve heard her sing in the noraebang room with her soft voice filling the vicinity. She doesn't sing much although she could. The day would come when she’d say "you know, I almost became an idol. I trained then dipped halfway,” and the pitched raspiness of her voice still would send you to heaven. It's a natural and beautiful thing, a trait she couldn't learn from the best vocal coach.
You don't like Son Hyeju though.
You’ve felt her hair when she leaned into your lap after laughing too much. "Stop, or I swear to god I will fuck your shit up," she told you, slapping your thigh after your terrible dad joke. You ran your fingers through her hair to calm her, but if anything it's an excuse to just touch her. You want to touch Hyeju, and not even in a sexual way. You just want your bodies closed up on each other with no awkwardness barriering the freedom to hold and be held.
And it’s not the kiss, but all these that make you stop your denial, and discover that you—
“—think I like Hye,” you whisper to Daniel when said girl leaves to get some beer. The flashing disco lights hanging from the ceiling can’t camouflage the red on your face.
Daniel laughs and puts down the mic. The bump on the crafted table sends a tinged pitch of feedback to your ears. “Everyone likes her. So?”
He’s right. Everyone likes Hyeju. Yeah, they like her through every name she’s taken up. She was the star of the school back in middle school when she went as Hyejoo, then the ice princess of high school as Olivia Hye, and finally… as herself now that she’s grown up with you, Son Hyeju. She’s become so many versions of herself and yet people still like the real her. You still know the real her.
“No,” is what you say, as you twiddle your fingers. You don’t know how to say this without causing an uproar. “I like Hyeju.”
He considers this for a moment, weighing in your words. “Like as in… like like?”
A nervous swallow. Is Daniel the right person to tell this ? “Like like,” you reply nevertheless.
Daniel locks his chin between his rough fingers and strokes it thoughtfully. His face is clouded with a feeling you can’t read. “Well, a lot of people do, too. And they wouldn’t blame you for it. She’s—” He looks down at his shoes then back at the noraebang screen. “She’s a pretty girl.”
The understatement of the century. Hyeju’s face was carved with such beauty—curved, pyramid lips; slanted eyes; a cold look that you, unlike people when asked about their first impression of her, weren’t scared of—and she’s just so… easy to love.
Yes, Son Hyeju is easy to love. Everyone loves her, but she can only ever reciprocate it in a different way to one man. Woman, perhaps? Anything goes, but you'd rather she gives it to you.
You're a selfish person, you admit that. More so when it comes to her.
"Let's get this party started!" she says. You don't intend to flinch yet you end up doing it anyway when she sits down next to you and hands you canned alcohol.
"There's only three of us, Hye," Daniel points out. The rounded metal springs up from the can and he gulps down a hefty amount of the spiked liquid.
"Three's a crowd. Especially when it's with you guys."
"So you're saying we're too much?" Match her sass with hidden bits of your own. You're only trying to make it seem like your heart doesn't beg to be held close to hers.
"Too much is just enough for me."
Hyeju drops both of her arms around you and your other friend and ruffles your hair. It's sweet. It should be. It’s exactly that which makes you fail to understand why your heart feels squeezed. Why is she also hugging Daniel in the same manner she hugs you?
The kiss at the bar means nothing. The kiss at the bar means nothing. You have to stop thinking that it means there's a ring on your finger already.
You rise from the sofa to purchase chips because you’re starving, but not for healthy food. You wouldn’t dream of eating a salad when there’s junk food in your general vicinity, and it just so happens that there’s a vending machine you’ve got your eye on at the counter. Soon, a rainbow of plastic bags fills your arms. What they contain would work well to repay your debt with Hyeju. Daniel can eat these without worrying about money. He’s been a good friend. He deserves chips after the evil you’ve thought about him.
"I bought chips—"
Daniel is pushing Hyeju to the end of the sofa and has his lips locked on hers. His hands are in her hair. Her eyes are shut. You can hear the sloppy sounds of kissing bouncing off the noraebang walls. The instrumental from the radio is the cherry on top of everything.
Does this kiss guarantee a ring?
"Wow," you say. Nod then laugh, as if doing it would make your situation better. “Wow.”
Hyeju turns her head and scrambles for broken dignity. It's too late. You've already seen it. Daniel doesn't even bother running after you when she bursts out of the room to chase you. You're immovable—each step is a promise to take you far away. You trust that promise to skewer you away from Son Hyeju, Son fucking Hyeju who led you on and played with your heart.
"Hey.” Her steps catch up with yours. Walk faster, but she only draws closer. You can’t escape from her now. “Hey!”
"What?" Turn to her, heavy breathing lining your shoulders. You stare into her small face and silently dare her to make an excuse.
To your surprise and her audacity, she does. "It's not what it looks like!" she says, swallowing. How could she be the one near tears when she's the one who kissed him? "Let me explain—"
"I know what I saw."
"Well, you don't see the bigger picture. He sm—"
"—smart? Funny? Rich?" Laugh and shake your head. Your laughs sound more and more genuine. You've gone a little sick in the head. "Yeah, I know. But hey, we're not supposed to be anything, right? Why am I mad? It's not like our kiss meant anything."
"Please, oppa. Listen to me."
"No, go sing together,” you say, then thrust the junk food you bought in her arms. “I’m sure you’re better off with him.”
Mean it. Turn away. Don't bother to look at her when you know she'll go crawling back to Daniel. He's totally her type. He's everything, you're nothing. He's smart, you're not. He loves her more, and you do—just not enough. Now you understand why they were so touchy and close in the room.
Anger is irrational when it was just a kiss. The two of you weren't official, either. If you weren't before, you sure as hell aren't now. It's just not meant to be.
She likes Daniel, not you. And even though you want to be, you aren't supposed to be angry at Hyeju. She was swept into a high school love triangle that happened a little later in her life, and ultimately chose the better guy. No need to drop names. The kiss was enough for you to know which man she chose.
Besides, you don't love Son Hyeju anyway. Isn't that what you've always told yourself? That's right. You don't love her.
Denial is a river flowing down your cheek.
-
The dorm becomes a cemetery of the living dead. You and Hyeju have not spoken to each other for three months. She stops waking you up for class, and you do the same. The place is notably cleaner after the two of you rely only on yourself to tidy up. Lost are the sarcasm, friendly touches, teasing arguments. It’s like the two of you never knew each other.
It’s through this that you discover that you have to be careful what you wish for. You always thought about Daniel putting himself in your place, and it happened. Ever since the kiss, Hyeju’s been chattier with him, and he pulls her close the way you used to, and she smiles at him like she used to at you, except that it’s wider now. They’re together. Officially together; you’ve seen their Instagram posts.
Moreover, she’s happier than ever, flourishing without you.
And you? You’re still stuck in that noraebang, replaying that fateful kiss over and over in your head. Each time you close your eyes you see Hyeju and Daniel in a passionate liplock. It’s the kiss that ruined what you had with Hyeju and has made your quality of life deteriorate. You didn’t know that Hyeju makes up almost every part of your day. Mornings are empty without your stroll with her. Post-exam nights aren’t as fun when she’s not there to bring drinks. Afternoons are lonely when she’s always out with Daniel.
You hate the fucker. He knew you liked Hyeju. You’ve told him about it right before the thing he did with her even happened, so it’s impossible that he’d forget. Besides, like he said, the two of you are always together. He surely would have picked up the signs. Unfortunately, he whisked her away just like that.
You dislike to feel like the scheming guy in coming-of-age films who doesn’t get the girl, but it’s the perfect portrayal of your emotions.
Wake up for class. She does, too. You have the decency to not gawk at how good she looks even in a casual tank top and plaid shorts, but she doesn’t even try to hide that she’s staring at you. Just not for the same reason, you assume. You’re just her boy best friend. With the way things are, you aren’t even a friend to her anymore.
You smear cheese onto a soft slice of bread. Still, her eyes are on you. From the corner of what takes up your vision, you could tell that she’s trying to figure out how to make this less awkward. You’d think that an eternity’s worth of effectively giving each other the cold shoulder would make her learn how to do it. She’s a smart girl anyway. She should have figured that out.
“You know… you can’t just keep ignoring me.”
Freeze—it’s the first time she’s spoken to you in a while. And you weren’t prepared for that. It’s like someone threw a punch in your stomach, but it’s also a breath of fresh air. How those two feelings could converge into each other you don’t know.
“So stop it, will you?” she continues. She swings her legs out of the duvet and places her hands snug on the edge of her bed. “Stop treating me like I’m a…”
“Like what?”
“Like I’m your fucking ex,” Hyeju snarls. The duvet crumples in her fist.
Scoff. Fold the bread slice tight onto the other squared end. Talk about a good morning. “Ex? We were never a thing, Hye… ju.”
Right, it isn’t like that anymore. You can’t call her Hye like the old times.
The hurt that registers on her face, still pretty in the midst of pain, comes by so fast it would take a magnifying glass to see it clearly. Now she’s the one scoffing. She recovers quickly from the stifled nickname so well that you never would have guessed you disarmed her. “That’s the thing. You’re right—we weren’t boyfriend-girlfriend. So why are you acting like I’m a ghost?”
“I wonder why,” you say. “Couldn’t be because you kissed me then decided to kiss another guy while I was away. Nope, totally out of the question.”
What happened? It seems like just yesterday the two of you were throwing insults and playfully quarreling with each other like it’s natural. This is a real disagreement here. This can’t be resolved with a smile or hug. You and Hyeju aren’t like that anymore. It’s a thing of the past.
Just like your friendship.
“If you’d just let me explain—”
“You know what? I don’t have time for this. Go with Daniel to class. Have a good life with him. Just call me if you get lost.”
Don’t even try to take a bite out of your cheese sandwich. You leave it on the table. Later, it’ll become stale and cold, similar to your friendship with Hyeju, or whatever kind of fucked up relationship you have.
You storm out of the dorm. You’re glad to get out—you’re already worried about the test later and the night class with miss Wong. Don’t need a situationship to take up your mind either.
The day passes like a car on a rocky, jagged road. It’s difficult to muster a smile to the freshmen the moment you come in to help miss Jeong teach, or work on your test when that argument with her fills your mind rather than equations you should have memorized. The whole day is torture, and you don’t dare wish it on anyone. Not even that asshole Daniel
“What’s up with you today?” people ask you. “You sure you’re alright?” “Where’s Hyeju?”
You don’t answer.
When the night comes, it’s relief for your sore mind and body. That test beat you up and the sun was too cruel to your skin. Even if night classes could last till the brink of dawn, you don’t mind. Take comfort in the fact that it’s only a discussion and nothing more.
Barely listen though. Two a.m. creeps by and you haven’t taken in a thing. Usually miss Wong would have you focused, keeping in mind that she’s strict and merciless, but you’re too tired today. Your bones ache though you didn’t do much walking. They’re only symptoms of heartbreak.
You don’t want to see a doctor. In fact, you want to get worse.
Miss Wong looks up at the clock. “Is it alright if I extend for just five minutes?” she asks. Her pencil skirt struggles to contain her strides on the platform.
A chorus of mixed responses echo in the classroom. Others, the top students in particular who participate in every club you could name, say it’s fine. Some already have excuses to make: they need to work on homework; they have other classes to go to; every excuse existing. You don’t know which side you’re on—you don’t want to come home to another angry night with Hyeju, and at the same time, you can’t be assed to stay.
Then—
Ringing. It’s all you hear. Your classmates’ voices drown out in it. It’s supposed to be soft, but it isn’t anymore when everyone shuts their mouth in alarm. Look here, look there. You don’t know where it’s coming from.
Your hint is the light in your pocket. Fish it out. It’s coming from your phone.
“I thought I told you guys to put your cellphones on mute during class,” Wong says, sighing. Her glare shoots you a warning.
Okay, you’d say sorry to her and put your phone away. Drop the call. Anything. But the first thing you do is wonder:
Why the fuck is Son Hyeju calling you?
Aside from all the tension between you, your natural instinct is to answer. Your next is to ask her, “Hye?”
“Oppa…” comes her voice from your speaker.
Before you could wonder why she’s calling, you notice that Hyeju’s voice is… lonely. Yes, lonely. That’s the word you’d use right away if you’re asked to describe it. No, it can’t be just that. It’s mixed with something else. It’s higher, a little more groggy.
Forget that you were fighting. Forget that she kissed Daniel and broke your heart. She wouldn’t call if it isn’t something even her pride can’t protect. “Hyeju? What’s wrong?”
“I’m lost.”
-
Those are the two words she utters before breaking into sobs. You’ve never heard or seen Hyeju cry. She likes to treat problems with anger rather than sadness, slicing away at every conflict with groans and cursing professors for low grades. If she’s crying, it must mean something’s wrong. Something’s very, very wrong.
You’re keenly aware that all eyes and ears are monitoring your moves, but you don’t care. You rise from your seat and start gathering your laptop into your bag. You forget about your notes. Fuck them. Hyeju comes first.
“Where did you go, Hye?” Walk out of the class. If miss Wong has a problem with that, she can tell you about it tomorrow.
Sniffles on her end. Her quiet, low cries break your heart. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I need you, oppa. I have… I have nobody else. Please come and get me.”
“Hyeju—”
“Please,” she whispers. Her voice lowers to a whine. “I’m alone. I’m so alone.”
Tears itch at the bottoms of your eyes. You have to come and get her. Need to forget the fight and silent treatment that ensued. All that means nothing if Hyeju’s in need of your help.
Where the fuck are your keys? Remove them from the loop of your jeans and click the button. In the driveway, your car’s headlights shine. Yep, there it is. You once regretted buying a secondhand car like that. Now that it can get you to Hyeju, you vow to take care of it for life. You’d spend thousands to repair it if it breaks down.
But right now, it’s Hyeju who’s breaking down. She’s all alone somewhere and she needs you. In a way, you need her, too. She’s the one who’s braver to admit it.
You’ve never driven faster in your entire life. All the while you stay on the line with Hyeju. Your grip on the wheel tightens whenever she lets out a hopeless little sob. She’s crying so hard that you want to roll into a ball in the corner and cry, too. You can’t do that. You have to be the stronger one, the one who comes to her like she’s done for you and tells her that everything’s going to be alright.
You make no promises.
Eventually you coax a location out of her and break several speed limits. Ignore the cops that yell at you. They can all go and fuck off. Hyeju needs you. You’re her best friend. It’s what friends do.
“Motherfucker,” you curse, upon seeing that the location she led you to was a club. It’s hidden in the corner of a creepy alley. “Hyeju, are you drunk?”
“Nooooo…” she drawls, giggling through her tears. “Your voice is so nice, oppa. It really makes me feel better. Did’ya know that?”
No time to be flattered. You burst into the club and find her in the midst of flashing lights and crowds of bodies. Your ears ring because of the music. Whose idea was it to hire this DJ? He thinks he’s doing such a good job, too.
Hyeju’s in the center of it all. Her black coat is too big for her, but so is the crowd. When it moves, it drags her along by the toes. She’s… smiling? Wasn’t she crying on the phone just minutes earlier? Maybe she drank more. This can’t be good.
“Hyeju!” Start walking faster.
She sticks her tongue out at you and starts to sprint upon seeing you get close.
You have no time for games. This isn’t even in the least bit funny. What if someone spiked her drink? What if that was the reason she’s acting funny? Worse: what if someone’s planning to take advantage of her? All these concerns bump into each other in your head as you run after her.
A couple of “excuse me”s and “sorry!”s after you quickly squeeze in between dancing people. Drinks spilled on the floor. Anger from two dolled up ladies. (A look to your right and… yep, not only from them.) Disapproval from the DJ who even calls you out. Boos from the crowd. You don’t care about them. You only care about getting Hyeju to safety. She can’t be here in her vulnerable state.
Before she could dash out from your line of vision, you grab her wrist. Seal your grip around it tightly so she can’t escape. “Son Hyeju,” you say, glaring at her. Ever since she stopped crying, she started to play around. This isn’t a game but to her it is. A fun game, to be more precise. “What the fuck is going on?”
“Oooh, you caught…” She burps. Playful giggles spill from her mouth. “... me!” Hyeju gives you a drunken smile and claps for you regardless of her right hand being held into position.
“Why are you here?”
“Why are you here? See? I can ask stupid q-questions, too!”
You whisk her away from the ongoing party and into the cold night air. You’re about to throw your jacket on her when you see that she’s wearing one, too.
People are starting to stare. Pray that no one intervenes, even if they have good intentions. After all, you’re a man with a woman under the influence. They have every right to be concerned, but you hope that just for now they know you wouldn’t dare hurt Hyeju.
The wind blows a breeze that almost knocks you to the floor. You draw Hyeju to yourself to warm her. You can’t risk her catching a cold.
”Let me go, oppa!” Hyeju’s mood goes from sad to drunkenly cheerful to pained. She forces her wrist out from your fist harshly. Your arms no longer wrap her. “You don’t like me anymore, right? And I have a boyfriend!”
Capture her hand again. She can’t escape and run away a second time. You’ve done that too much to know that it’ll send her down into a dizzying spiral. You’re cowards, the both of you—that’s why you flee whenever a problem arises. You don’t know how to deal with it.
That changes now. Get in your vehicle. Pull her in, too. “For your information,” you say, locking her seatbelt in place, “you called me. You asked me to pick you up.”
The car roars to life and speeds down the road. The night barely provides light for you to move along. It’s beautiful nevertheless. Stars peek out from the depths of black. The moon is dim yet reassuring. What fate does it have in store for you? Would you accept it if you knew? How could they all look so serene while you have your drunk crush next to you starting an argument?
“And you’d loooove not to do it, wouldn’t you?” Hyeju’s words suggest that she’s no longer that drunk but the way her words come out like jumbled words in a newspaper crossword tell you otherwise. She leans against the door and crosses her arms. “It was a mistake to call you. You, you fucking hate me.”
Does she really believe that? You may hate Daniel, but you never once hated Hyeju. You’ve only had wistful feelings for her even after she kissed him. You still checked up on her socials and watched her as she ate lunch with him. You remained loyal to her, like a dog following its owner through scoldings.
Yeah, you really are just her dog.
“I don’t hate you, Hye,” you say with conviction. You’re determined to make her believe that. It’s difficult when you’ve never been the type to be good with words.
“Yes, you do! You wouldn’t even let me explain why I kissed Daniel!”
“For fuck’s sake, I was hurt! I didn’t know what to do!”
“Then hear me out for once!”
“Alright.” Your hands slap the wheel, unintentionally bumping the horn and causing Hyeju to cringe. “Go on. Tell me what happened.”
“He was the one who kissed me, the fucking idiot! He kissed me out of the blue and wouldn’t stop!”
Wait.
What?
Daniel, your friend and Hyeju’s, initiated the kiss? Hyeju didn’t want it to happen?
If only you knew, you would have beaten up Daniel a long time ago.
You can’t even speak. You had it all wrong. You can’t believe there was an explanation for everything and you refused to hear it.
Hyeju begins to sob again. Her words circle in the air like an incantation. It’s equally because of the alcohol and her emotions. “I was… talking to him about my training, but then he kissed me.” She wipes her face and laughs humorlessly. “He started making out with me and, a-and I didn’t know how to stop it. It was like I was frozen.”
“You… you didn’t kiss him?” Your tone is broken and incredulous. “He made you do it?”
She looks almost offended. “Why? Why would I ever kiss that bastard?”
“But you’re dating him.”
“I am,” says Hyeju, hands in her hair, “Hah, okay. I'm dating him, yeah, but that’s just because I thought you didn’t like me. I only want one person in the world, and it isn’t Daniel Smith.”
“Hyeju—”
“It’s you, you clueless little shit!” She punches your shoulder and muffles her face into your car pillow. Her next scream is elongated, filled with frustration. When she lifts her face from the pillow, her eyeliner and blush are smeared and wet with teardrops. “It’s you, and I only want you!”
In vino veritas.
The confession is as out of the blue as Daniel’s kiss was. You’re in a state of shock and disbelief—too much information is coming into your brain. You want to punch Daniel in the face for shocking her with an unwanted move. You want to hug Hyeju. You want to tell her that you’re sorry for not hearing her side of the story.
Most importantly, you want to tell her that you want her, too.
It’s too late now. She’s seen you disregard her voice and choose to have a one-track mind. There’s no way she wants you anymore.
“Why the fuck would you ever want me, Hyeju?”
“Because!” She lets out a shivering little sigh. “You don’t treat me like… hlk, like I’m a trophy to show off. You’re my friend. You know how to be mean but you take care of me even if I’m too moody sometimes. Even if I don’t want to come along with you outside because I’m scared I’ll make myself look stupid in front of you. Even if… even if I love too hard but don’t show that I love you most and that sometimes you take care of me more than my dad does and I know it’s wrong to see you that way when I’m with him now but I really want you to take care of me but still kiss me too if I need it and be okay with me calling you names like ‘daddy’ and still being your best friend besides being my boyfriend… but I know it can’t happen anymore and I ruined everything—”
“Hyeju.”
More tears flow down her face. “—and I know you won’t ever love me the same again but I’ll regret forever, long after we graduate, that I never showed that I loved you, that I was a coward—”
“Hyeju,” you say, gently. Pull over at the university parking lot. You have your finger on her mouth, sealing them to stop her droning. She pauses. She doesn’t do it without breaking down. “Please. Don’t tell me you don’t know it. It’s been happening under your nose every single day.”
“What?” she murmurs, eyes glassy as they connect with yours.
“I like you, too.”
Silence. Several beats go by. They’re too lengthy to be fake. The next nuance confirms that:
Talk about relief. Talk about passion. As if she’s forgetting that a sudden kiss was what opened Pandora’s box, Hyeju grabs your face and does exactly that. Again, it has too many things to it that blocks it from being faux. The unique shape of her lips mold onto yours, as if your lips were made to kiss each other all the time. It’s back to the café again, wherein she does something and you subconsciously follow along. Your hands are on her phenomenal waist. And soon you’re unbuckling her seatbelt so she could sit safely on your lap, where she’s supposed to be. Where she belongs.
She drops her touch to your shoulders. She massages them, and you groan delightfully. Now it’s your turn to hold her face and lean in closer. Hyeju’s mouth tastes of sweetness and alcohol. You don’t know how those two tastes could mix together. Hyeju makes it work.
“Oppa, daddy,” she whimpers. She pulls away. The distance is still close to nothing. “Daddy, I love you.”
It’s a sudden nickname, still detached from when she uses it with you jokingly, yet there’s no hesitance here. You know your truth. “I love you, too, Hyeju.”
“Will you take me to bed?” She starts grinding down on your shaft needily. “Please say you will, daddy. Please say you’ll make me happy.”
“You’re drunk. I… I don’t know if I should.”
“‘m not. Maybe. But I’ve wanted it to happen for a long time,” Hyeju says. “I won’t mind, I promise.”
She couldn’t get any more sober with that. So you do what any man would do if they were called daddy by Son Hyeju: lift her out of your car, not caring to check twice if it’s locked, and bring her to bed. Take her coat off—she won’t need it if you’ll make her warm from the inside and out.
Her arms round your neck and her face is buried in your chest. Her words come out in a desperate, needy tone that you haven’t heard from her since the day you met. Who exactly were you to make her this small?
Her daddy, of course.
See, as tough as Hyeju makes herself out to be, she’s still needy. She still has her own problems that haven’t let go of her now that she’s older, like the daddy thing. You only fully understand it now when you lay her on the bed and continue kissing her. Hard. Her moans call out for you. They aren’t merely things to whine if it feels good. It’s not even a matter of want anymore; her shivers and cries indicate of her carnal need for you to do what you will with her.
“Don’t be scared,” she tells you, closing her eyes as you kiss her perfect jawline. “You wanted me for so long, right? Well, I did, too. Do what you want to me. Fuck me, daddy.”
“You talk extremely dirty for someone who’s drunk,” you chuckle.
“Not so drunk anymore. You make me sober.”
“Sweet talker. You’re all bark and no bite.”
Hyeju has no retort to make. Your lips on her gorgeous nipple render her speechless. The cute pink nub is hard, and grows harder at your loving suckles. Her breasts are the perfect size for squeezing. Relish in that fact by squeezing her left breast while dedicating more of your attention to the other, making her become sensitive with each action.
You’d say you have bite, for you do so lightly on her breast. She gasps. “Daddy!” she cries out.
“Fuck, don’t say it like that.” Your cock throbs already. It’s the same feeling you get all those times before, the times you’d get into an argument with Hyeju and she’d call you that.
“What? It’s not my fault you can’t handle me,” she says wittily.
“Don’t try me.”
“What?” She cocks a brow. “Hit too close to home?”
You have to shut her bratty self up. Tug her pants off, sliding them off her silky legs. Her pink panties are a hint to the gentle color of her pussy. Find out about them anyway—push the underwear aside and shove three fingers in her.
“Oh shit.” Hyeju’s squeeze on your digits is instant, like an impulsive reaction.
Think about if Daniel has done this to her before and pick up the pace. You’re fingering her like the walls of her soaked pussy would banish him and let you have her all to yourself. “Son Hyeju,” you growl, “shut the fuck up.”
“W-won’t—ah!”
If you don’t make her quiet, you’ll at least reduce her words to pathetic moans. You’d say you’re successful. Your rapid thrusts send Hyeju’s screams paralleling the night wind with their strength.
You’re surprised again and again at how loud she could get. She’s always so quiet except for the occasional sarcastic remark. She can make no more of those if faced with the relentless fingering you do unto her pussy. They draw out strings of dampness when they withdraw, and fill her right to the knuckles when you go back in. Her hips squirm and you have to place a hand on her thigh to continue.
“Daddy, daddy, daddy!” she screams. Her mouth is open while she sits up to look at what you’re doing to her vulnerable cunt. “It feels so fucking good, don’t stop!”
She looks beautiful. Her shirt is lifted above her breasts, making them bounce madly due to the timing and force of your thrusts. Her eyes could never be more watchful. She can’t believe she actually has you between her legs and fingering her to orgasm.
“Got any comeback for me, Hye?” you ask smugly.
Hyeju nods. Her lips are parted again. Although you haven’t had sex with her except for now, you know what that dropped jaw means: she’s close.
Her walls are impossible to part completely. She’s too damn tight that you bet she’d still be so with one finger. The grip of her slippery, wet cunt is like no other. You reach deep into it and stroke out till you find the place. That’s how Hyeju starts to shiver. She can’t manage it.
“Oh, yeah? What do you have to say now, sweet?” Wrap your lips around her nipple. It’s another one of your unfair advantages over her.
“I-I-I—I can’t!”
The recoil of Hyeju’s tits is amazing. Harshly squeeze the boob you’ve relatively neglected to make sure she can’t get a word out of those pretty lips. Take a further step and smack it, too. She moans in satisfaction. Your harsh squeezes imprint a replica of your hand on her pale skin.
Of course, you don’t forget to keep your fingers going. You change techniques now and then, switching from gentle circling to rapid fire shoving. Whether it’s one or the other, Hyeju’s fuckhole swallows you up. She doesn’t mind which or what; she needs your harshness the most. It’s what counts as a whole.
“Daddy, I’m gonna cum! Please make me cum on your fingers, make your babygirl cum… oh—oh, fuck!”
Combined with your thumb nudging her small clit and your digits absolutely destroying her tightness, Hyeju does the unthinkable: she squirts on your hand and on your bed. Liquid gushes on your shirt; it’s so consistent and clear that a new determination is founded within you. It’s to make your unbearably hot best friend cum like she never has.
For the record, it’s the first time you’ve made a girl squirt. You didn’t expect that it would be this satisfying. Seeing Hyeju’s blissful face and the shake of her beautiful legs make your efforts worth it. Watching yourself do it to your best friend and make her feisty, boyish self let out screams and pleas brings increased triumph.
“No, oh god, it’s too much!” Hyeju says this but her legs part more. Her head is tossed back and her moans don’t stop. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, I can’t—daddy!”
“Messy little brat.” Rub away at her clit. Feel the spurt of her cum hit your finger. “That’s it, cum for daddy. Keep those pretty thighs open.”
Hyeju mewls at the mixture of degradation and moans. If Daniel had said that to her, she probably would have thrown up in a bucket. When it’s you, on the other hand, everything changes. She wants you to call her every harsh name out there and accompany it with sides of praise. She’ll only feel this good when she’s with you.
Hyeju is anything but obedient. Things change here in the dorm, where her pussy is spread and prone to your touch. Her midriff, soft yet slender, rises over and over. The hose of her wet orgasms still hasn’t stopped.
“Goddammit, you’re squirting so much. Am I that good, hm, Hyeju? Is daddy that good to his pretty little girl?”
“Mmm, mmm, don't— no more, daddy, no more!” Hyeju’s core is already spent, and you haven’t even put your cock in her yet.
Stop. Not before you leave a kiss to the sensitive bundle of nerves that you abused. It’s a mark now, something invisible that subtly says to everyone that you got to fuck her. You got to fuck Son Hyeju. You made her cum like never before.
Spit on Hyeju’s center then spread it to her lips and nub. She moans. “You’re so wet, Hye.”
“Whatever.” She’s blushing. “I’ve had better.”
You have to say you’re a little provoked. You know it’s false seeing the smug look on her face and after making her squirt, but who exactly has done her better? Daniel? Definitely not him. The possibility still does well to spur you to jealousy.
“Oh,” you say, smiling tightly, “so that’s how it’s gonna be, huh?”
Hyeju gasps happily when she’s pushed to the wall and on her knees. It’s reminiscent of how Daniel did exactly that: pinning her to the wall before kissing her. Your anger brews into a fire just thinking about him.
“Yeah. What’re you gonna do about it?”
Unbuckle your belt. Your jeans join it on the floor as well as your briefs. “I’m gonna clean that dirty mouth of yours.”
“And how are you gonna do that, daddy?” Hyeju pretends not to know what’s coming.
It’s your belief that actions speak louder than words. That’s why when you place your cock in between Hyeju’s lips, it resonates inside her more than your promise to purify her mouth. Logic fails here when dirty sins can’t remove Hyeju’s dirty words. One wrong and another doesn’t make a right. Oh, who cares? This isn’t a class. This isn’t your thesis. You focus only on feeling the softness of her triangular mouth, the wetness of the back of her throat.
Holding your cock by the base, you lead its tip into rubbing every corner of Hyeju’s mouth. Her cheeks make an outline of your girth as you press your head against them. Her jaw becomes slack after you press your dick down to her tongue. You’re technically doing all the work here because you’re fucking her face, but you’d argue that Hyeju contributes just as much with her tearful eyes that are more puppy than wolf.
The shape of her wet orifice leaves ample space for you to rub against everything. Your tip draws a triangle on her lips right before slipping inside. There you keep your word and clean her dirty mouth. Push those naughty words down her throat with immediate thrusts. That way, she can only moan, nothing else. No sass can be heard from her now.
“You’re such a bad girl, Hyeju,” you say. Curl your hand ‘round her messy hair and direct it downwards. She groans, her mouth now upright for yout fuck easier into. “You shouldn’t like having your mouth used like this. You shouldn’t be on your knees for your best friend when your boyfriend’s waiting for you at home.”
Hyeju knows you’re right. She shouldn’t. She isn’t supposed to enjoy having her throat rammed and spread. She shouldn’t be cheating on the man she claims to love. It’s a mistake of hers to be here anyway, underneath another man.
Her second mistake is to like everything the way it is..
Her third is to tongue your shaft like she would a sweet treat. She wants to taste all of you, from your thick tip to the base. She’s not had much to work on with Daniel, but she knew it would be a good time when you sprung out your cock. She makes this worth it—she seals her lips at your base, her nose pressed firmly at the bottom of your tummy, then produces such a harsh suction that the grip you have in her black locks of messy hair tightens. A curse is what you let out besides precum.
“Fuck,” you say. Pull her head closer. Aggressive thrusts fire away. “Didn’t know your pouty little lips could suck dick so well. I bet it’s bulging your throat. Is daddy right about that?”
She tries to nod. Her gags stop her intended action; your thrusts have sped up and are now destroying her tight throat. No space is left for her to breathe when her mouth is stuffed with your length. Even her nostrils can’t take in much air if her nose is pressed that tightly to your stomach.
Place a hand on the wall in order for there to be no aches for her head when you thrust wildly. “You know, I changed my mind. Maybe you’re a good girl, especially with that face. Go on, touch yourself. I know you want to.”
Permission is granted by her daddy. Hyeju gives a cry in response then leads her hand between her legs. Letting you fuck her face has made her wet beyond imagination. She doesn’t need to press directly on her pussy when there’s slick all over her thighs. She gathers them all up and places them back in her pussy. She moans as she swirls her digits inside her. Here’s how it works: she has one hand masturbating, and the other on your thigh to caress it and at the same time keep her balance.
Take note of that. “You’re a smart girl, Hyeju. Smart girls shouldn’t be letting their faces get fucked. We can’t have that happen, right?”
You say that yet your actions tell a different story. Your violent pumps into Hyeju’s mouth to use it to the limits are endless. Hyeju’s moaning. She enjoys it more than she should. Of course, you jam those moans, as pretty as they are, down her throat.
Slap your cock on her lips.
“You know what I mean.”
Slip the whole of your length out then in again. Make her brush those luscious lips against every inch.
“We really, really can’t have that happen.”
Caress her cheek. Her eyes are awaiting and obedient. Look down into them and almost feel bad for ruining her, your best friend.
“Daniel might walk in anytime. He’ll be looking for you.”
Your movements are cruel as time goes by. You shouldn’t be treating your best friend like this. You shouldn’t even be having sex with her. All of these ought to stop you in your tracks—you don’t.
“And what will he say when he sees his precious girlfriend on her knees for his best friend?”
Hyeju begins to whine. She doesn’t want him to walk in; she’s enjoying this too much. What she doesn’t want to happen even more is for you not to blow your load inside her warm throat. People can’t have what they want all the time, but she swears she won’t want anything else if you just give her what she wants. That’s for you to absolutely use her. Be cruel to her and it wouldn’t sting.
“He’ll start to think how better you are with me. You’re a bad girl, Hyeju. You know that and you still want me.”
You’re right in every way. She is better with you. You just fuck her better, treat her better, kiss her better. She can’t kiss better the wound she’ll leave in Daniel if he just so happens to walk in. Maybe she could, but she’d put salt on it when he discovers how good you make her feel. It isn’t fair to anybody. To you, the one she accidentally hurt; to Daniel, who was the one (no, make that the two with how he was her last resort and how she gave him false hope); to her, who can’t go without you.
“Let go.”
Nine.
It takes exactly nine strokes in between her folds for her to cum. Drool sheens your girth. Some even drip from her mouth. It’s like she’s in heat; she’s whining as she tries to cum and suck you off at the same time. Hyeju ends up sucking your shaft with desperation, legs quivering and threatening to give away.
“Cum with me, Hyeju,” you command her. Pull out, rather regretfully, but take comfort with how pretty she’d look covered in your cum. Your hand wraps around you and jerks you off. Although it can’t match Hyeju’s mouth or her ass, it’ll do well in shooting your load on her.
Your best friend keeps calling your name squeezed between “daddy”s as she fingers herself to orgasm. She collapses pathetically on the floor, in a pool of sweat and cum. Her shirt and the floor of your shared dorm room are stained. No need to wonder where those white stains come from; the only suspects are you and Hyeju. It’s a partnered crime for her squirt comes out at such a velocity that it rivals your cumshots.
“Take my load, Hyeju, fuck!”
If there’s anything Hyeju isn’t, it’s submissive. It somehow changes when she nods and opens her mouth. You’re introduced to a whole new side of her. Her post-orgasm face is one you hope to admire everyday. Look at the expressions she makes when her eyes are crossed and her tongue is out for you and you have difficulty choosing between the two.
You and Hyeju exchange a tired look. If you’re to be specific, a look is how everything starts. You became friends with her because she was staring at you too long a time in class. You quickly reunited with her in college when you looked to your back to see to whom the familiar voice belonged. It took one quick glance to see that Daniel had kissed her in the noraebang.
Similarly, a look is what causes you to shamelessly throw Hyeju on the bed again. By now her limbs curl into yours like this were a completely natural thing that happened between you, as if she were always being fucked and manhandled like this. Your kisses now are more aggressive, too. They aren’t nervous like earlier, when you still weren't sure if doing this was right. Hyeju responds by engaging in a battle for dominance, pushing forward and pulling the forces connecting you.
You win in the end.
Slam her back down to the mattress. Her anticipation is written clearly in her eyes. “I’m going to ruin you, Son Hyeju,” you say.
She laughs in your face. “Bet.”
Alright. You’ll show her. It’s a friendly bet you’ll take all seriousness in.
Align your dick with her waiting cunt. You shed all attempts to tease her or dive into foreplay. What she needs is your cock inside her, rearranging her insides. If that’s so, you’ll give it to her.
“Oh!” Hyeju gasps. Her pretty eyes are big above her hands covering her face. She never guessed you would feel this good inside her. “You’re so fucking big, daddy. It's, it’s better than I imagined, fffuck.”
Steer all your weight into this thrust specifically. Your tip makes contact with her G-spot and sends her legs shaking. Send her a couple inches further on the mattress. Her godly tits begin another round of bouncing. There’s no other routine you’d love to watch.
Already you've put your hands on her hips. They’re to pull her closer if she gets lost. Again. You have to make sure you won’t lose her this time. This chance was given to you for a reason. You have to keep her here, show her all the love you’ve kept bottled up all these years.
Hyeju squirms a lot. That’s what your grip is for. It’s to keep her on the bed so she can easily receive your pumps. And what a good job she does at receiving them—Hyeju’s hips shiver as they’re subjected to a force her sensitive pussy can’t handle. She’s always going into things she can’t handle. This is no different. Time with Daniel was okay, but you’re a different story. You ensure that she’s always filled to the hilt until she’s bottoming out.
Deeper and deeper you go. Your cock knocks up into her tummy. You curse; it’s hotter than it’s supposed to be. Something as simple as that shouldn’t be so arousing.
“Oh, you like that? You… you like seeing your big cock stuffing my little pussy?” asks Hyeju. Her teeth are parted to let in air she so desperately needs to formulate these words. She knows they’ll turn you on. “I know you do, daddy. Look at your meat ruining my insides. You’re going to cum so much inside me. And I’ll take it all. I’m a good girl. I’ll show you I’m a good girl.”
She leads your hand to her throat and closes your digits around it. Get the message. Squeeze there tight. Her strangled gasp is everything.
“You are, huh?” you say. Your composure is long gone. “Are you always this tight, Hyeju? Are you always this good? Or is it just for daddy?”
There’s something incredibly hot in the way Hyeju gushes and screams for you. Her nipples stand in the air, aroused by the quick penetrating done to her pussy. It seems almost impossible for her to be this wet. Each push of your hips brings forth a gush of wetness that wets the sheets and your joined crotches. Bring out your cock for a second to quickly flick its tip on her clit.
Hyeju gropes her own chest with closed eyes. “Ohhhh, fuck!”
Return to your routine of drilling her. Her whole body reacts violently to your pounding. Moreover, every part of Hyeju’s beautiful body screams to be touched. Her jiggling thighs and breasts, her midriff prone to your thrusts, her face that’s never looked this slutty… where should you start? Your touch is given multiple choices, and you choose all of them. Your hands roam her body and squeeze and feel and grope. In response, she moans. The volume of her acute voice turns up with each, almost like her body has triggers that would draw out louder sounds.
You think of it that way and now Hyeju’s screaming as you propel inside her while keeping a hand on her clit.
“Daddy, o-only you, daddy!” she proclaims in a helpless scream. “No one can make me feel as good as you do, just keep fucking me, don’t stop!”
You’ve got your answer. Smile in satisfaction and, since she’s a good girl and gave the correct response, lean it to worship her breasts. Does slapping them count as worshiping? Hyeju thinks it does—her high groans and yells are enough to be context clues. You marvel at the size of her chest, so subtle with the baggy clothes she wears but now in their full, naked glory before you. It’s impossible for them to be presented to you without a squeeze being done.
“You like my tits, daddy? I’ll let you fuck them all you want, just finish inside me. I’m safe today. Promise, p-pro—”
Bury yourself deep inside her, to the point that your cockhead pushes at her cervix. Fill her up. Hyeju moans happily. She rolls her body up and down. The stimulation seduces you into making (kind of) breeding her a job well done.
“Thank you, daddy.” she sighs. She’s still erotically grinding her hips. It’s karma for overstimulating her a little earlier when your fingers filled her.
“S-stop, Hyeju.”
“Stop? Alright, sure. I think that’s enough now. Daddy doesn’t want to fuck my tits anymore.”
Naughty little brat. She knows just the right words to tick you off and turn you on. It makes you want her to pound her into the bed again so that not even the old mattress can forget that it was the place you and Hyeju fucked.
“I’m just kidding, silly. Sit down! Yes, thank you.”
She flashes you a smile after you do as she says. It’s a rare moment in this session with her that she has the say in what happens. Somehow. It can’t be completely true, not when she’s on her knees again for you. Not when her tongue trails worshipful lines on your cock and draws tight licks on your tip. Shiver. You’re a bit sensitive yourself.
“Now see how good this feels?”
She takes her glorious breasts in her hands and wraps them around your cock. You let out a guttural moan. Hyeju’s tits rival her mouth and pussy. It’s a close competition, with the advantage of softness most of all. Oh, when she starts to move, gliding her supple skin up and down your size, you almost cum on the spot.
Her bosom is a portal to heaven, you swear. Your legs feel light. Your core is hot as your size disappears between her breasts, buried in the soft and safe haven she provides. The friction is so overwhelming that you doubt it could even be a real sensation.
She makes a show of rubbing your tip on her nipple, similar to what you did to her clit. The two of you are sensitive, so you moan in harmony as it happens. After gliding your cock on her large breasts, she goes back to titfucking you.
It’s all a matter of technique. Whenever she presses her chest together, your cock is suffocated with euphoric tenderness. On the other hand, when she simply moves up and down, you’re given the opportunity to grind down at the skin between her pale breasts. Each route leads to an inevitable fate: exploding all over her a second time.
"P-please stop, Hyeju," you say. You can't handle no more and there's so many more things you want to do to her.
"Awh." She pouts. Fat tears risk spilling from her eyes. God, she could be so cute sometimes. "What do you want, daddy? I can be good."
"Turn around."
"Ohhh, I see what you want." Hyeju turns around and spanks herself. Her ass ripples photogenically. "Of course. Of course you want it."
Hyeju can be so many things. A few minutes earlier she was a submissive babygirl for her daddy, and right before that she was a brat. Now, she transforms into a seductress. She doesn't lace or lingerie to become one. She has that fantastic body to do the work for her.
Hyeju starts to dance. Your eyes are trained on her. They never want to see anything else than her swaying her butt with a dancer's grace and charm.
"Giving me a show, huh?"
"Unless daddy wants it already."
"I do."
She squeezes her ass cheek before reaching her pussy. Then, she rubs her wetness on her pink, puckered hole. She lathers some at the inside of the rim, too. She didn't expect to fuck you today, no matter how many times she's dreamed of it, so there's no lubricant around. Hyeju has to make do.
"Oh!" she squeals when you give her a playful smack on the ass. "Impatient. Daddy's impatient. Don't worry, I'll give it to you."
“You did this before?”
“Duh.” Hyeju smiles sweetly, quickly returning to her good girl side. “You ready now, daddy?”
Apparently, it’s a rhetorical question, for Hyeju immediately guides your tip into her backside. You do your part in spreading her cheeks. Both of you moan at the first contact. It’s difficult by itself to insert just your tip through. She’s too tight.
You’re sinking into this long-chased dream. You’ve seen Hyeju walk around the dorm with no shorts on. Sometimes you're able to catch a glimpse of her bare ass when she dresses up in the dark. It’s normal when it’s with you, considering that your friendship transcends time, but she doesn’t know that yearning’s been put in your heart in those moments. You want her. You want Son Hyeju.
And now, she’s submitting herself to you. She’s given you her body, her tits, her pussy. Now she offers you an equally delicious choice: her supple ass that’s bouncy as it finally sits down completely on your lap.
“Good daddies bounce their babygirls on their knees, right? Should’ve known that, dummy. So come on, pound me. It isn’t hard.”
Well, you are. Hyeju’s ass is constricting you yet you enjoy every second of it. Her tight little asshole clings to you as you do as she says. You’d do anything for Hyeju, and that doesn’t exclude engaging in anal sex with her.
Choose a rhythm to go by to enjoy the tightness Hyeju gives you to the fullest. She leans into you and hums quietly, lower lip worried between her teeth and ass steadily rising and resting. The flexes of your thigh also stimulate her needy pussy. Your knee brushes her clit steadily while your cock penetrates her asshole better than any toy could. Better than any boy would.
“Oh, that feels so good, daddy…” Hyeju murmurs. “Keep spreading me like that, yes.”
Just when she thought you’d switch to being gentle, your thrusts become sporadic. She can’t find which timings you’re going by. The calm before the storm, so to say. Hyeju’s whimpers and whines are your thunder, and they soon live up to their name when they grow louder, filling your ears as would the violent downpour of raindrops.
“D-daddy, daddy, oh my god—” Pain partners up with pleasure in wrecking her hole. Darn you for reaching in front of her to rub her clit as well. Too many things are happening at the same time. “Daddy better make me cum, please, please—”
Your size fills the tight space of her ass so much that it’s difficult to move. The juices of her pussy that she’s used as makeshift lube can’t even do the job they’re assigned to. However, you don’t care about that. You simply fuck Hyeju’s fat, delectable ass like it’s been your long-term dream. In a way it is, but you’d be dreaming about it long after it’s already been fulfilled.
Hyeju stands up to take the lead and work her butt on you. You know she’s an excellent dancer but you never knew she could be this good at twerking either.
“Holy shit, Hyeju, your little asshole feels amazing,” you moan. Spank her, though she’s undeserving of punishment when she’s amazing at using that ass.
“And your cock is so fucking big in my ass,” she says. “I don’t want anything else, daddy. Ohh, god, keep doing that.”
Her rear end bounces and claps together as they take in your fat cock. She looks back at you lustfully, watching you ruin her supple ass. Reach for her breasts to match the velocity of her thrusts. You’re two forces colliding, each filled with fire to defeat the other with pleasure. It’s a losing game when Hyeju’s ass is just as good as her pussy, which you continue playing with to bring her to orgasm.
“Good girl, Hye, keep bouncing that fat ass on daddy,” you whisper in her ear. Love to hear her weak little moans; they show you that she likes this as much as you do. Probably more. “You want to cum, right? You want to squirt on me again?”
“Yes, daddy, please!” Hyeju is in paradise although her skin feels like it’s been set on fire. She hasn’t felt this good before. “No other cock can do me the way you do, daddy, I’m all yours! Make me cum, cum inside me, daddy!”
You’ve changed her. She’s a totally different person outside of the bedroom. She hides her approval in sarcastic comments and teases you about them. How is it that she’s completely submissive and good for you?
Your ego swells. Smack her pussy just enough to make her gasp. “Whose pussy is this?”
“Yours, daddy!”
“And this ass?”
“It’s all yours, daddy,” sobs Hyeju. “Always so fucking big inside me, so much better, you need to make me cum—”
Pull her down to your lap then thrust inside her all while not letting an inch withdraw from her snug butthole. “Cum for me,” you say.
“Ohhhh fuck!”
Hyeju begins her sexy body rolls again as a profane spray of clear liquid fires from her pussy. She’s so wet; when you rub her clit, a squelching sound is produced. She’s too turned on from the feeling of you savage pounding inside her. She slaps her own pussy to go along with your rubbing, then leads your fingers inside her cunt again. She’s still so tight.
The combined feeling of two of her holes being violated has her tired. She could be murmuring a spell and you wouldn’t know because of how jumbled and jarred her words are. The syllables make out your name and title. At least, that’s what you could understand. It would take an experienced veteran transcriber to make sense of Hyeju’s sounds.
You blast her ass with so much cum that it overflows, like water threatening to spill from the brim of a glass. Your joined cores are so wet and sticky that neither of you feel like moving. You want to stay in the narrow yet pleasurable comfort of each other’s touch forever.
It’s so pleasant that you could only hear the gratifying sound of each other’s pants and not the knocks on your door.
So safe that you don’t hear the sound of a lock being skewered with because each other’s bodies are more homely than this dorm.
So distracting that when he comes in through the door and yells in disgust, it’s the first time you feel an awakening sobriety.
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