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tsimvkas · 27 days

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come back home — mason mount.

A/N: really sad to hear about the new injury so maybe this can distract u guys a bit. im ngl, this one is pretty personal to me so please take care of it. tbh this is a special fic for mi amore elisa, and i hope it matches her expectations. this story wouldn’t exist without you bestie 🫶🏻

word count: 8.5k | masterlist

content: reader has mommy issues, dad!mason, angsty and fluffy end

When your mum called, you didn’t think twice.

She asked you to spend a week with her, and you accepted straight away, incapable of believing that your brother left her alone without warning you.

To be fair, you know you’re not on speaking terms with him, but it's your mother. How could he let her alone?

When you told Mason, you could see the insecurity on his face. Since you gave birth to your baby boy, you had never ever left the house without him, and leaving Manchester to go back to your mum’s in London was a big thing, but eventually he sighed and nodded.

“Just make sure you call me everyday” he kissed your forehead before kissing Leo. Just a week, you told him. In a week you would be back to your husband.

You met Mason at the Champions League final im the 20/21 season, and you like to say it was love at first sigh, the way your relationship instantly clicked is still surprising. You dated for a year before he asked you to be his wife, and you thinks you would’ve said yes another million times.

You’ve been together through the good enough season of 21/22, and all the shit of 22/23. You got pregnant in the middle of his last season for Chelsea, and Luke was born already in Manchester, in October.

Since Mason’s injury in November he’s been able to participate more, spending lots of time with his son as he doesn’t need to go to away games, and you know that this week away will make both of them sad.

You tried to tell yourself that since Mason is back at the regular training and ready to be back on the pitch, they would spend less time together anyway. It didn’t make the decision any easier.

When you packed for a week and got into the car, your husband helped to put Luke in the baby seat before kissing you lovely.

“Call me every night. Don’t let her be alone with Luke, please? And come back soon” he whispered against your lips, stroking your chin. “I love you”

“I love you” you kissed him, before reluctantly driving away from your husband.

Sundays are usually already sad and gray, but Mason is sure his just hit another level of depression.

—

It was already night when you got to your mum’s house, not talking much to her before settling on Matt’s old room and texting Mason.

You instantly found out that it would be a difficult week: it was the first time you were away from Mason since you gave birth, and the first time Luke had to sleep away from daddy.

The thing is that he couldn’t. You couldn’t put your baby to sleep, not even if your life depended on it. Luke kept loudly crying, tossing and squirming in your arms.

You tried your best to calm him, thinking it could have something bothering him like his current clothes or the weather difference, but not even breastfeeding calmed him down.

Mason tried to help you every time he FaceTimed you, and it was when Luke seemed to feel better but never lasted long.

You were feeling exhausted the whole week, but that didn’t stop your mother from asking you everything she could, like you were still fifteen years old with the responsibility of helping her to clean a house isn’t yours anymore.

Plus, she seemed incredibly bothered about Luke and the fact he wasn’t feeling well, dropping comments about him. You tried your best to ignore, because you know your mother isn’t the easiest person to live with, and since you were leaving soon you didn’t want to fight.

Wednesday night you were missing Mason like crazy, wanting nothing more than to be wrapped with him under the covers, and your heart twisted when his face showed up on your screen.

“Hi baby” Mason murmured, already tucked in bed and making your heart ache with the need of being there and snuggling with him.

“Hi Mase. How are you?”

“Training was fine, and I’m getting closer to come back” he smiled, and you instantly matched his expression.

“I can’t wait to watch you again, love”

You think that is adorable how Mason’s cheeks still got red when you show him affection.

“And how’s your week going?”

“It could’ve been better if I was with you. I miss you” you sighed. “But the week is almost over and I’ll be home soon”

“Good” he yawned, getting more comfortable. . “Show me my little man”

Luke was still wide awake and paying attention to what you were saying, and you showed Mason to him.

“Hi buddy, you’re being a good boy, yeah? Be good to mumma, please. I miss you”

When Luke babbled to him, Mason giggled before wishing you a good night and telling you he loved you.

—

When Saturday came your mother talked to you, saying Matt had some problem and he wouldn’t be back for another week, begging you to stay a little while. The hardest part was telling Mason about it.

“She needs me to stay for one more week, Masey” you murmured, feeling guilty. When Mason didn’t answer you tried again. “I’m sorry, baby. I’ll be home next Sunday”

“It’s okay. I was just hoping you’d be here for Liverpool’s game tomorrow, I think I’ll be subbed on. But it’s okay, you can travel to Brentford's game with Luke” he assured you. “I wish I could go see you during the international break, but they want me to stay in rehab”

“I’m really sorry baby, I tried to contact my brother but he’s being petty” you sighed.

“I understand, princess. I just miss you” he told you gently. “How’s my buddy going?”

“He’s good, he’s just so irritated lately, I think it’s his tooth” you sighed again, feeling tired. “He misses you”

“Poor bubba” Mason pouted, making you smile. “Give him a kiss yeah?”

“Sure” you smiled. “We’ll be back at the end of the week. I love you”

When the week unfolded, you weren’t sure about your decision anymore.

You choose to stay with your mother for one more week over living your husband’s comeback, and in gratitude she spent this time talking bad things about you.

It started with innocent comments. How she would never buy the clothes you were wearing. How you were raising a clingy kid by never letting him sleep alone. How you should breastfeed him less or your boobs would get flaccid.

You tried to shrug it off, like you did when you were younger. You used to believe that your mother was always right and that she was always the mature one, but you’re not so sure anymore.

During the second week you kept calling Mason every night, sharing about your day and showing him to Luke, who would try to grab the phone and put dads on his month. When, without a question if you could or wanted, the second week turned into a third, you could feel Mason losing his patience.

“It’s okay, you can still go to Brentford’s game this Saturday” he repeated, but it sounded like he was trying to convince himself instead. “You can bring Luke, Brentford is friendly. How is he doing?”

“He had a fever but he’s fine now” you showed Luke sleeping next to you, his face a little red.

“Let me know if something changes” Mason asked you, and his concerned look just proved you chose the right dad for your son.

You nodded to his image on the small screen, his adorable face almost hidden by the sheets, the bed looking incredibly big.

“Can we sleep on call?” you asked, missing him so much it was physically hurting you. Mason’s face softened and he nodded.

Some people might think that you could just go back home. If you really miss him you would do it, right?

But you know Mason understands your relationship with your mother, how you feel you owe her everything. She raised you, gave you everything you needed.

She was rough sometimes, yes. And there were days you didn’t feel loved at all, but she was still your mum, even when she couldn’t tell you she was proud, even when she couldn’t hug you during storms.

Even when she couldn’t believe you would be someone successful one day.

So you kept there, living your days boringly, washing the dishes and the clothes, playing with Luke, cooking breakfast, lunch and dinner. For her, so she would be happy and proud.

And you were losing your mind.

—

When Brentford's game came, you weren’t able to go. You apologised to him the day before, spending hours on the phone, and even though you could see the sad look in his eyes Mason was still comprehensive.

“She needs me to accompany her to the exam” you told him, and Mason himself could see you weren’t funny about your current situation; you just weren’t brave enough to hurt your mother the way she hurts you and leave.

You were able to watch the game when you came back from your mother’s exam and it wasn’t a surprise to you when Mason changed the whole game by being subbed on.

Luke was already sleeping, so you tried your best not to scream when your husband scored, tearing up to see he dedicated the goal to you by pointing to his ring finger.

You were able to talk with him only for a few minutes before he desperately needed to sleep, whispering that you was proud of him and the way his voice cracked when he told you he loved you made your heart hurt.

Following the week, you weren’t able to talk much with him. Only quick calls at night before he dozed off still holding his phone, feeling much more tired now that he’s back at attending games even though he doesn’t play the full match.

Your Wednesday started with Luke’s little sobs waking you up, and you were sure he wasn’t feeling well again. After breastfeeding and showering with him, you managed to get you both changed and ready to start the day.

When you got downstairs your mother was already in the kitchen, and you could hear her complaining that you were late.

“For what?” you surprised her, and despite being early in the morning she seemed grumpy already.

“For breakfast, what more could it be? I had to cook it myself” she snorted, and you took a deep breath before

“If you’re capable of it, I don’t see what’s wrong” you shrugged.

The truth is that you’re starting to wonder what he hell you’re doing there and why Matt hasn’t come back. What should be a week turned into a month and you was living her life instead of yours.

When you sat at the table for breakfast, after managing to cook your own meal with Luke in one of your arms, you had to take a deep breath as soon as she started to talk.

You’ve heard in silence when she talked about you and Luke, but never makes you more furious like when your mother decides to talk about Mason.

“He could spend more time in the gym” she told you, suddenly. “Your husband”

You were only capable of frowning at her, not understanding why she would brought this out of nowhere.

“What do you mean?”

“He could train more. Maybe some more muscles would make him prettier and better at football” she shrugged, making you laugh in disbelief.

“He’s already pretty and good at football”

“I don’t know, Y/N. I feel like he’s not the right man to you, and I want the best to my little girl”

Mason is the most caring and gentle man you’ve ever known, and you knew you couldn’t sit there and hear her talking shit about him day after day.

“Mum, you can’t be serious. He’s my husband. Not only this, but he’s Luke’s father. Don’t talk about him like that”

“Are you sure he doesn’t cheat on you?” she innocently asked, making you choke on your coffee.

“Mum!” you gasped, not believing what she was saying.

Luke’s eyes widened and you tried to recompose yourself so he wouldn’t cry out of fear

“I mean, he could have anyone… everyone. A skinny and tanned woman, with pretty features…”

There it was. The reason why you grew up so insecure, something that would annoy lots of men — but not Mason. Not your boy, who would reassure you every time and make you really believe that you’re pretty and loved.

Her words still stung though, but you shrugged them off.

“Mason loves me” was everything you told her before leaving the table with Luke.

You went out for a walk with your baby, trying to make the day pass faster and see if he’d feel better after some fresh air. When it started to get dark, you came back home and gave Luke a shower, laying in bed with him.

Later that night Mason called you like he always does, and you were happy to see his name shining on your screen.

“Hi baby” you whispered, but to your surprise he didn’t greet you back.

“How’s Luke?” Mason murmured, and you could sense the tiredness and loneliness in his voice. “Don’t you think you should bring him back home so we can get him to our doctor?”

“Yeah, that’s what I want to do. But I can’t leave my mum alone and Matt won’t answer the phone-”

But Mason had enough, and suddenly he lost his patience.

“And why, exactly, can’t you leave her alone, Y/N? Enlighten me, please. From what I can remember, she can do everything perfectly. She’s not sick, she’s not weak. She’s just using you”

Mason never liked your mother, much due to how she treats you, and you understand. It just hurts that you have so many good things to talk about his mother whilst yours is always giving him reasons to hate her.

“Mason… she’s my mother. Can we not talk about her like that?” you murmured, but you know he’s right.

On the other side, Mason did his best to not scream at you, something he swore he would never, even if it’s out of frustration.

“She’s your mother, yeah. And I’m your fucking husband. I know you never chose to have a narcissist as your mother, but you chose to marry me and I thought I would have an important spot in your life. I know family comes first but I thought that someday you’d start to prioritize the family you made”

You could feel how tired he was. How he needed you to understand his point.

“I’m trying, Mase” was the only thing you were capable of whispering.

“You say you are but you keep choosing her. You keep going when she calls even though you know she’s only going to hurt you. You keep choosing your mother over your husband and I don’t know if I can do this anymore”

“Mason…” your heart dropped. “Don’t say that”

“Do you have any idea of how much I miss my son? How much I’ve been missing my wife? It’s been a month, Y/N. And I feel like you’re not thinking about my feelings, at all”

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, it was supposed to be just a week” you tried to defend yourself. “I don’t know what’s going on or why Matt isn’t back yet. It has been hard for me too, yeah? I miss you so much and I’m sorry”

“Well I think you should set your priorities” he murmured before turning the call off on your face.

You instantly felt the tears forming. He hasn’t said it was over, but it was obviously a warning that it wasn’t over just yet.

With a sick Luke in one of your arms, you started to clean the room you had been staying in. Cleaning always helps you, and you let your cry reach out to you during the process, feeling overwhelmed and tired.

You wanted your home and your husband, but as a daughter you feel like you need to take care of your mother. Like you’re supposed to give her everything she’s been giving you your whole life.

After tidying the room you went downstairs to prepare the dinner, and whilst you mixed the sauce something snapped. What were you doing there?

You should be cooking for Mason, so he would have a proper meal after his nap. Luke should be sitting in his baby chair whilst you were humming happy songs. Not there, where your mother can cook her own dinner and clean her own house.

It wasn’t your fault that she couldn’t understand that you have your own family now.

When you set the table for dinner your mother wasn't home yet, and you ate with Luke’s little screams, trying to smile at him. She finally arrived an hour later, and whilst she entered the house you decided that you had enough.

“I’m leaving tomorrow morning” you told her whilst she closed the door. “Mason will face Chelsea and I need to be there. And Luke is sick, so I’m heading back home after the game to take him to his doctor in Manchester”

“What are you talking about? He looks fine”

“I’m his mother. I know when he’s not doing well” you snapped at her. “And don’t come to me saying you don’t wanna be alone. You’re not alone, are you? Because I spent the day here to be with you whilst you’re walking around the city or going to your friend’s house” you tried not to snap. “And getting drunk every Saturday even tho I tell you how much I hate it. We’re leaving tomorrow, whether you like it or not”

Not leaving her time to answer, you went upstairs to sleep a bit. When Luke finally slept you debated whether or not you should send a message to Mason letting him know you would go back home after the game.

Deciding not to disturb him any more and imagining that he was still upset with you, you laid with your son and tried to sleep, but the shooting thoughts wouldn’t let you.

What if Mason had enough? What if he doesn’t want you anymore, what if you are too late?

—

When you woke up, you took Luke in your arms and started to pack. Since you were supposed to stay only for a week you didn’t have much to organise, and soon you were ready to go.

Your plans were to drive to Stamford Bridge and see Mason after the game before heading to Manchester whilst he came back home with the team.

But as soon as you checked beneath the pillow and under the bed, you realised your phone wasn’t anywhere.

Taking Luke downstairs and looking everywhere you could, you tried to ask your mother.

“Have you seen my phone? It’s not where it should be”

“You should take care of your stuff, Y/N. I thought I taught you that your things are your responsibility” she told you with a flat look and you stared at her for a few seconds, in disbelief.

After hours of searching for it, you gave up. There was only an hour left before the game and since you only started to drive recently the idea of driving around without following the GPS terrified you, so you had to make a choice.

Plus, you were tired from searching for it and all you wanted was to eat something and watch the game with Luke.

Deciding to bath with your baby and cook dinner, you sat on the couch to see the game, your stomach churning with the need to be there.

A few minutes into the first half, your mother looked at you from up the stairs.

“I thought you were going back home today?” she teased you, making you frown.

You chose not to answer, paying attention to the game instead. When Mason was finally subbed on you pointed at him, bouncing Luke in your thigh.

“Look at dada, Luke. We’ll see dada soon”

“Dada” he babbled, making you gasp.

“Yeah, dada. It’s your dada” you poked his waist, the teas already forming. Luke couldn’t stop calling for dada once he said it for the first time, and he kept repeating it until the game was over.

You were incredibly sad by the result, knowing you should be at home when Mason gets there so you could hold him and scratch his scalp after his warm bath.

Deciding to sleep early, you waited for your mother to go to her bedroom and carefully brought your bags downstairs before laying with Luke and forcing yourself to sleep, determined to leave the next morning — even if you had to drive like the old ones, asking for instructions and following the signs.

On the other hand, Mason was desperate. He knew from the moment he turned the call off that he needed to apologise for how he talked to you.

But he was angry, stressed and frustrated. He wanted you there, supporting him. Cuddling him after his tiring games, listening to him when he needs to. He wants you there talking about your day, warming the bed, bringing Luke to him after a shower so you can change into your pyjamas.

He wants his family and he can’t cope with the fact they’re not with him.

Mason can’t believe you and Luke weren’t there watching his first goal, and scoring felt bittersweet. He wanted nothing more than to share this moment with you.

Since he met you, Mason knows how hard your mother is. Narcissist, dramatic, always trying to make you feel sorry for hurting her — when you were only setting boundaries.

And he also knows how hard had been for you, not finding the courage to break the circle and move on from her. But in all this time he never had to deal with this, you and his son so far away from him because of a woman who doesn’t even respect her own children.

When he went to bed a few hours after the call, Mason started to worry and he knows you were mad when you didn’t text him before bed, but at the same time he wanted to apologise for the way he talked he still meant everything he said, so he took a deep breath and choose to wait until the next day so he could talk to you properly.

His heart hurt knowing he was going to bed without telling you he loves you, something none of you ever did, but Mason was sure you’d figure it out after the game since you promised you would go, so he did his best to sleep and rest.

—

He looked everywhere. He asked everyone.

You just weren’t there.

When the game ended, Mason just wanted to bring you and his son and tell you he needed you home when he got there. He needed someone he could cry to, someone he could tell how overwhelming being back felt.

All he wanted was to survive the bus drive with all his teammates feeling sorry — for the loss and for him. And then lay in your arms so you could reassure him he’s doing well and that he makes you proud, whilst Luke’s little fingers tried to make him bald.

But they told him you weren’t in the United box and soon he found out you never entered the stadium Mason’s heart twisted.

First he felt a shameful feeling of anger. Why the fuck couldn’t you do this little thing for him? Relationships are supposed to be about making sacrifices and he watched you put yourself first for an entire month, always being understanding. The only thing he expected in return was for you to be there.

And you couldn’t? You say love him so much, but still couldn’t be there?

Then, when he finally showered and changed into some trainers before heading to the bus, Mason was able to check his phone just to see you hadn’t answered his pre-game messages, and quickly his anger turned into worry.

He called you five times, but every call went to voicemail. Mason pondered if you were ignoring him — or if something bad had happened.

Knowing you for four years, he doesn’t think you would give up on your relationship like that. But the way he hung up on you the night before, and how he accused you of not caring about him… he just can’t help but overthink.

With his heart pounding, Mason opened his Instagram app and searched for the only person who could help him, whilst he was forced to come back to Manchester when all he wanted to do was come to you.

—

The sound of the doorbell ringing woke you up, and you checked the hours just to see it was just past 2am. Luke instantly started to cry, and you took him in your arms before rushing downstairs and opening the door to the person you never thought you would see there.

“What are you doing here?” you frowned to your brother.

“Mason called me. Where’s that freak you call your mother?” he said harshly. “Why don’t you answer your phone? Your husband is losing his mind. He thinks something bad happened”

“I’ve been looking for my phone since yesterday morning, I don’t know, it’s vanished” you explained, following him. “Matt! What’s happening?”

“She’s been lying to you, Y/N. She’s probably hiding your phone right now. These are yours?” he pointed to the things you’ve packed, and you nodded. “I was never meant to come back. I told her I was leaving, cause I was tired of the manipulation. I was tired of her telling me my girlfriend doesn’t deserve me or telling me I owe everything I am to her. I owe her nothing”

You could feel the lump already forming in your throat, and you wanted nothing more than to call Mason. Matt silently put your bags in the front door, and soon his girlfriend got out of the car to take them.

“I realised something was wrong” you told him. “And Luke has been feeling sick so I packed, but then the morning I told her I’d go to the game and then head back home I couldn’t find my phone anymore. What Mason told you?”

“Not gonna lie to you, he’s feeling awful. I think he’s been crying, too. He told me you were supposed to go to the game tonight?” he asked, and you nodded, your heart dropping. “He said he tried to call you before and when you ignored him he thought you were still angry, but now that you didn’t show up at Stamford he thinks you either were kidnapped or decided to leave him. There’s only these bags?”

“Yeah” you quickly nodded. “She asked me to spend just a week”

“Compulsive liar” Matt snorted. “Let’s go, get in the car. I’ll take you to my home and we can go to yours in the morning”

You nodded again, but before you could obey him you mother showed up in the stairs.

“What’s going on here?” your mother’s voice made you jump as you were still two kids doing something she wouldn’t approve of.

“Please, don’t. Just go back to your room, I’m taking Y/N’s home”

“You can’t do that!” she raised her voice, trying to show a mother authority she doesn’t have over him anymore.

“What do you mean I can’t do that, you psycho? Leave us alone. You used me for years, I’m not letting you do the same with her”

“Don’t be stupid, Matthew. All I ever asked you was for you to take care of me like I took care of you your whole life. All I ever expected was you both to love me like I loved my childs” she gestured, and you could feel your heart hurting. She’s your mother and you should be so tough with her…

“Why can’t you understand that we have our own family now?” Matt snorted, his big body trying to hide you from your hysterical mother. “Y/N is a mother. She has a child to take care of, she can’t look after you when you’re capable of looking after yourself”

When you realised Luke was about to cry from all the noise, you started to rock him back and forth, trying to protect his ears.

“I am your family. All those years I left my life in standby to raise you. I gave you two food, a home, a warm bed to sleep” your mother shouted, gesturing.

“And as a mother this was exactly what the world expected from you. You did nothing but your obligations. No one asked you to be a mother, so you can’t point your fingers and act like we should be grateful for the simple things you gave us. The minimal” Matt kept his tone low. “But you lacked the essential. The respect for your kids. The love, acceptance. You only love yourself. Now you say we’re not returning everything you did for us but guess what: this is what you did for us. You reap what you sow. You can not raise a child thinking about what they can bring you in the future”

“Everything I’ve done, everything I say is because I care! But go on, make me the villain, take her thy stupid footballer” she turned to face you. “Go back to him and raise this stupid child. Just don’t come back running to mummy when he changes you for a prettier and hotter girl, leaving you with only his clone to remind you of what you’ve lost!”

It was unconscious, the way you left the safe space Matt had created for you and advanced in her direction. You never believed you were capable until it was done, the echo of your hand meeting her cheek spreading in the silent room.

“Talk about me as much as you want. But do never, ever again talk about my husband or my son. Is not our fucking fault dad couldn’t handle your behaviour anymore, and is not our fucking fault he left you for a prettier and hotter woman” you pointed a finger to her face. “I’m done with you. I’m done with you forever, and if cutting you from my life is what I need to do so I won’t be the wife and mother you were, then I’m doing it right now”

“C’mon, Y/N” Matt put a hand on your shoulder, slowly bringing you closer to him. “Let’s go home”

You checked Luke on your arms afraid your impulsive action had hurt him, whilst Matt took you outside.

“She still has my phone-” you realised before you could enter your car.

“Leave it behind, yeah? Mason can buy you a new one. Look at it as a new beginning” he squeezed your shoulders, and it felt like having a brother again.

In that moment you understood that this was what had happened to him, too. That this was the reason he never replied to you anymore.

When Matt left his mother’s house in an attempt to be free, he had to leave everything behind, including you.

You think you won’t ever really understand what it cost him to come back there, but he did it.

He could never leave his little sister behind.

—

You took Luke out from the baby seat before following Alice inside. She came back driving Matt’s car whilst he drove yours, so you hadn’t had the chance to talk to her.

Once inside, Matt put you in the biggest guest room of his house, trying his best to make you comfortable. You used the sheets and the pillows to make a fort around Luke, and went downstairs to talk to your brother after so long.

After making you all tea, Alice sat besides him and you genuinely smiled seeing how they clearly completed each other.

You started by explaining to them what she told you in the first place, and how she was trying to keep you there for more and more days every time another week ended. When you told about your fight with Mason, Matt was quick to reassure you that he knows Mase will understand you, but you were still feeling reckless and seeing your husband was the only thing you wanted.

“I tried to contact you” Matt told you shyly. “It’s been months since I left her house, maybe six?”

“Around Luke’s birth” you whispered.

“But I left my phone too. It was a choice I had to make. Since you don’t have an Instagram, I tried Mason’s but-”

“He’s too famous to see your message” you giggled.

“I think he unfollowed me when he thought we weren’t on speaking terms- when you thought we weren’t. He’s a good one, you know?”

“He is” you smiled, thinking about your boy.

“I’ll get the car ready for the trip” he murmured, suddenly looking awkward.

As soon as he left, Alice saw you were still processing your feelings and came to sit near you. After a few seconds in silence, she started to talk.

“You don’t have to love her just because she’s your mother” she told you, holding your hand. “Mothers aren’t saints, Y/N. It’s okay to dislike our mothers when they act bad, when they hurt you. It’s okay to even hate a mother that does no good to her kids”

“But she’s my blood” you told her the same you’ve always told your brother, but as a woman your age Alice understands your feelings and is delicate to answer you.

“That doesn’t mean anything. Do you see Debbie? Matt told me about her, and how much she cares about you. She’s your blood? No. But she’s been treating you better than your blood has” she ran hiii her fingers through your hair. “I know it’s hard to make this decision, but a mother that hurts and lies, a mother that tries to get in the middle of your marriage isn’t a good mother. Just think if you’d ever do to Luke any of the stuff she did to you”

When you looked up your brother was by the door, and you know he’s the only one who actually shares this controversial feeling with you.

“I wanna go home” you sniffed. “To Mason”

“We’ll take you there” Matt assured you, stretching his arms out to you. “But give me a hug first”

“I’m so sorry she got between us” you murmured after hugging him, resting your face on his shoulder.

“Me too. But see? We’re free now, princess. Your big brother is here”

—

When he opened the door for you early in the morning, Mason’s heart dropped. With Matt and his girlfriend waiting in the car, he was sure you were there to pick your stuff and leave.

“Mase?” you called him nervously, since he wouldn’t move or make any indication of hugging you.

“Are you leaving? I- I didn’t mean it you know, I didn’t mean to be rude with you I was just so tired and angry and I came home after training and you weren’t here and I got so pissed off” his voice was shaky and he didn’t stop talking to breath. “And then I thought we could solve things after the game but you weren’t at the game and I tried to call you so many times and I swear I wanted to go there and talk to you but the gaffer told me I was supposed to come back with the team”

You quickly entered the house so your brother wouldn’t be worried. The last thing you needed was him and Alice wanting to stay — you needed to talk with Mason alone, your family needed this time together.

You circled his waist with one arm, the other holding Luke between you two, and waited for him to hug your shoulders. When Mason calmed down you pulled away just so you could look at him.

“What’s going on?” you asked him, a hand going straight to his cheek. “Are you having panic attacks again?”

Mason shook his head, calmer now that you were inside the house and Matt’s car was gone. Luke stretched out his tiny arms to Mason and you instantly passed him to your husband.

“I thought- I saw Matt’s car parked and I thought you were here to take your stuff” he shyly admitted, his cheeks blushing.

“Oh baby, I would never leave you” you ran your fingers through his hair and your heart tightened when he hugged Luke like his life depended on this.

A lonely tear went down his cheek and you brushed it.

“We’re not going anywhere big boy, you can relax. I think you’re close to suffocating him” you giggled, your heart hurting at how tight he was holding Luke.

“Am I?” Mason’s eyes widened as he pulled his son away, to be sure he wasn’t hurting him.

“Sorry, I was just kidding” you laid your head on your husband’s shoulder. “We missed you so much. I’m so sorry, Mase”

When Luke laid his head on daddy’s other shoulder, your eyes watered.

Since you gave him birth, since he grew inside you even, you could never understand how someone could hurt their own child. You would die and kill for him, and you know Mason feels the same way.

Being a mother like yours turned out to be your biggest fear since you saw the first positive test. Now, each day he grows more you’re sure you could never.

You could never treat him like his opinions and wishes aren’t valid. You could never tell him he can’t simply answer you his point of view no matter what, even when you’re wrong. You could never put yourself first when your son depends on you.

“Believe me, I missed you more. The bed was always cold, every night, and the house is so quiet without Luke, the food doesn’t taste the same, there’s not a single drawing in the bathroom wall and everything looks so lifeless” his voice cracked, and you looked at him to see uncountable tears spilling down his face. “Ever again. You’re not leaving my side ever again”

You nodded, trying to reassure him and ease the panic you could see in his eyes. Hugging his waist, you peppered kisses to his jaw, feeling the salty water on your lips.

“We’re not going anywhere, baby. I swear”

Mason’s sobs caught Luke’s attention, and he looked at his dad with the prettiest face you’ve ever seen, full of confusion.

Your words weren’t enough to stop Mason’s breakdown once he was feeling safe to show you how much the last month affected him and his body started to shake, so you guided him to the couch and sat with your back against the arm so he could lay between your legs.

With Luke sitting on one of your legs and Mason’s head resting on the other, you let your husband cry.

“It’s ok, Mase” you scratched his scalp, trying to soothe him. Your heart physically hurt when he clinged to you, hugging your waist tighter. “I’m here now”

“Sorry” he whispered when you started to brush his tears.

“Don’t feel sorry for being hurt, Masey. You can cry to me whenever you need to, I’m here to protect you too”

“You, protecting me?” he giggled, and you smiled at the sound of it. He got up from your lap and gave you a shy smile, stretching his hands out for Luke who immediately tried to go to him.

“Yeah, it’s your turn to be taken care of” you shrugged, giving your baby boy to him.

“Oh so you’ll take care of me?” Mason gave you a smirk and you rolled your eyes playfully before remembering what you wanted to show him the most.

“Daddy is being a naughty boy, Luke. Tell him to be better, uh? Tell dad to behave”

“Da” Luke babbled, and Mason pinched his chubby cheeks.

“One month alone with mum and you already forgot that I’m your partner in crime?”

“Da-dada” he kept going, and you wish you could get Mason’s reaction tattooed, the way he confused eyes looked at you.

“What the fu-“

“Don’t curse” you giggled, covering his mouth, but Mason could hear the sad tone on your voice. “He said if for the first time last night, we were watching the game and I told him we would see dada soon. He can’t stop anymore I guess”

Mason kissed Luke’s cheek, laughing between sobs when he squirmed, giving little screams.

“You have training today?” you whispered, afraid of ruining the moment but Mason shook his head.

“I’ll call the gaffer to explain” he brushed his fingers through Luke’s face.

“I’ll run his bath then” you told your husband before kissing his head and quickly going upstairs, trying to give them some time alone.

In reality, you feel so bad for separating father and son for an entire month. Seeing Mason’s cry made it hit you how bad your actions hurt him, even intentionally.

Imagining how you would feel if it was the opposite, your heart physically hurt with guilt, how hard this month apart was for Mason and you could feel a few hot tears spilling down your face. Now, you can only hope he won’t hold any grudge against you, despite what you did.

Less than ten minutes later, Mason was entering your shared room and walking straight to the en-suite so he could find you.

“Babe? You can’t leave your boys alone, we don’t know how to take care of ourse- ei, what’s wrong?” he cupped your cheek, and just the warmth of his hand was enough to make you feel better.

“Nothing” you shook your head, drying your face with the back of your hand. “Can you take off his clothes?”

“We’ll talk about it once he’s sleeping” Mason kissed your forehead, squeezing your waist. You nodded, letting him go and undress Luke whilst you chose some toys for your son.

You put the toys in the bath, checking again to be sure the water wasn’t too hot and turning around to Mason.

“Can you bathe him?” you asked him and he instantly nodded, holding your waist before you could leave.

“Go bath in the guest bathroom if you need some time alone, yeah?” he caressed your chin, and your heart pounded even more with how gentle he could be with you even though you hurt him.

Since he seems to know you more than you know yourself, you obeyed. Taking what you’d need, you headed to the guest bathroom and took a warm shower.

You wanted to cry. You wanted to let it all go when Mason and Luke weren't around, but you couldn’t. There was just a whole in your chest, but no tears.

After washing your hair in an attempt to feel freshened and lightened, you wrapped yourself in your robe and came back to your room. Mason wasn’t there, so you imagine he was at Luke’s room putting him to sleep, and not wanting to get in the middle of their father and son time you changed in your pyjamas and tucked in bed.

Half an hour ater you still weren’t able to close your eyes, staring the wall. You’ve heard when your husband entered the room and changed from his trainers, wanting to lay down with you.

“You can go to training if you’re not too late, Mase” you told him softly, not wanting him to get in trouble.

“No way” was his only groaned response, and you sighed when Mason cuddled you seconds later, his arm circling your waist.

Your eyes instantly teared up.

“Go on” Mason kissed your shoulder. “You don’t need to hold it, it’s just us”

“I can’t believe she did this” you tried to tell him without crying, but with every little kiss on your shoulder you could feel the breakdown coming. “Lying would’ve been bad enough but hiding my phone? Not caring that Luke was feeling sick- oh we need to take him to Dr. Linn”

“I’ll take care of it. Keep going” he encouraged you, and you couldn’t understand how he was the one left behind for a month but still so worried about you.

“I don’t know why she wanted me there. The entire month, every day she had something bad to say about me or you, or even Luke. Always leaving to see her friends or get drunk, so in the end I was alone most of the time. She hates me and my family, but she still wanted to keep me around for some reason” your eyes were burning at this point, and Mason’s soft skin against yours made you feel safe enough to finally let the tears spill. “I’m so sorry you had to live an entire month without him”

His hug tightened a bit when you sobbed.

“It’s not your fault. And I lived an entire month without you too, you know? You were missed just as badly”

“It is my fault, Mason. You said it yourself, I chose her over my family and I’m really sorry about it. I want you to spend more time with him, make up for lost time”

Mason pulled away just enough so he could helo turn your body to face his, his hand going straight to cup your chin.

“Y/N, what’s that? I don’t wanna spend hours alone with Luke, even though I love him more than anything. I wanna make up for lost time with my family, not only with half of it. I was angry that night, yeah? I was tired and missing you and I was so pissed you weren’t here when I got back home, I just snapped”

“You had every right to” you murmured, his thumbs never stopping with caressing your face.

“And then the next morning you weren’t answering my calls and when the time came you weren’t at the game like you said you would and I was so scared you had given up on us. So during the night I couldn’t sleep and I realised… I know you, I know you wouldn’t deprive me of my son even though you didn’t want to talk to me yourself, so I panicked. I’m sorry I called Matt, he was my only option”

“Matt and I were good” you smiled at him, and the way his eyebrows raised made you giggle. “I could never give up on us, silly. You’re my everything. Not going to bed with you every night, not making your breakfast every morning… it was the worst month of my life”

“That’s why I gotta give you my attention too, babe. You’re my girl, and Luke knows how to share, you know? He’s not selfish”

“Well, I don’t think I deserve your attention. Look what you had to go through for an entire month” you groaned, but Mason just sighed before placing his forehead against yours.

“You were manipulated, by someone you love a lot. You were worried and wanted nothing more than to help her, and I understand that staying away from me was a consequence of what you needed to do in your head, even tho in reality you didn’t have to do anything. I don’t really like your mum but I love mine, and I know the feeling of being able to do anything for her” he held you tighter. “You don’t need to feel guilty about it”

“Mason, you can’t pretend it’s alright. I lost the most important game of the season. I lost your fucking goal. I should’ve been there to support you and then I should’ve been here to comfort you” you chocked, the guilty feeling eating you alive.

“Babe-”

“It’s not ok! And I’d feel better if you just admit it, let me apologise and forgive me” you tried to breath and calm down. “You lost the first time he called for you and it’s my fault”

“We’ll, I’m listening now. And he can’t stop, isn't it adorable? The tiny human we made. With so much love” he kissed your forehead. “I missed you so much I think I feel like making another one any time”

“Mason!” you gasped, feeling your cheeks getting warm.

“What? The day we made Luke was so hot. A mess, but incredibly hot” he closed his eyes, licking his lips and you had to look away with flaming cheeks. You know exactly the day you got pregnant since it happened in a month you and Mason only got to sleep together once. Mason laid on his back and helped you lay half of your body on top of his. “Fine, baby. Let me hear your apologies”

“I’m really sorry for missing your first goal. You have no idea how awful I feel, because I should be there to celebrate it with you, to scream loud with the fans, to show how proud I was. And I’m sorry I lost the most important game for you. I hope you know I would never do that on purpose, and we wanted to be there for you. But I watched on TV and I’m so proud of you. You did so well with the time you had, and I’m sorry about the general result. You were so pretty though”

“Was I?”

“I’m starting to understand the hair now” you giggled. “It filled my tummy with butterflies”

“Are you sure you don’t wanna make another baby? Because you’re sounding like you do” he teased. “You’re forgiven, princess. And I don’t wanna you beating yourself about it, yeah? I already told you, I understand what happened and how stuck you were. It’s your family, after all”

“No” you shook your head, clinging even more against him. “You are my family. You and Luke”

“And the babygirl we’re gonna make soon?”

“Stop” you groaned, burying your face in his bare chest. “I want another one too”

“Really?” he pouted, and you could never say no to him.

“We could try your girl or start the Mason Mount FC” you hummed, content when he kissed you.

“Perfect” he murmured, lips brushing yours softly. You stared into his eyes, smiling when he raised his eyebrows. “Wanna start trying now? Cause I honestly missed you so much-”

“Shut up” you giggled, relaxing in his embrace. Brushing your nose against his neck, you inhaled the after shave smell and focused on how soft his neck is.

After a few minutes appreciating his warmth, you allowed yourself to sleep deeply, finally in your home. Where you are loved for who you are, not for what you can offer. Where you are wanted and your presence is valid. Where you feel safe.

Not your perfect three store white house, no. Your home. Mason Mount.

#✧･ﾟ: *✧ tsimvkas — works #mason mount x you #mason mount #mason mount fanfic #mason mount fluff #mason mount angst #mason mount x reader #mason mount fics

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rodolfoparras · 8 months

Note

think about price who constantly refers to his lover as 'the wife' with lovesick eyes to 141

now imagine 141 loosing their SHIT on the inside when they first meet 'the wife' and she isn't some petite pretty little housewife like they imagined but instead a large ass man built like a fucking TANK and easily towers over Simon who is the tallest of the group. price still refers to him as 'the wife' with the dorkiest grin ever and 141 doesnt let him live it down, threatening him with telling 'the wife' whenever he doesnt let them do something stupid

(feral anon)

(i want to be 'the wife' so bad but sadly i am a short transmasc that doesn't look like a man at all)

(your posts cure my gender disphoria)

A/N: I loved this idea and I’ve been wanting to write a fluff piece for my old man so here u go, something very light hearted ! Excuse any mistakes I wrote it within an hour or so!

It’s no secret that Price likes to keep his private life and work life separated, not many people know he’s married and he likes to keep it that way.

However he has no qualms about 141 finding out about the person he loves so much, matter of fact Laswell was the first to know, all unplanned of course.

It all happened when the two of them snuck away from the rowdy group of men to smoke. Sitting inside would’ve been a better option. It was warm inside, they had decent lighting and were within hand’s distant to their drinks but that would also mean they were at risk of losing their hearing or getting elbowed in the stomach or face by the drunken men, so outside it is.

Price offers her his cigar, which she takes gracefully muttering something along the lines of “my wife doesn’t like it when I smoke” while taking a drag from the tobacco leaf.

“Neither does mine” he says with crows feet appearing around his eyes and lips curling up into a smile.

“You’re married?” Laswell says, only with a hint of surprise on her face as she hands the cigar back to him.

“Happily” he says smile still present as ever on his face before he takes a drag from the cigar as well “been that way for four years now”

She just nods in response before she takes the cigar back, and that’s pretty much how Laswell finds out about Price’s spouse.

The next person to find out about it is Gaz.

141 had been out on a mission that day, and Gaz had taken the impulsive decision to head straight into the fire in hopes of getting important intel. He’s managed to get it but not without getting scolded for his reckless behavior by Price. Hours later and the guilt is still eating at him so he decides to make his way over to Price’s office in an attempt to make amends with the older man.

Gaz takes a deep breath before he knocks on Price’s office door.

“Come on in” he hears the older man’s voice.

Gaz walks in only to be met with the sight of Price seated in his office chair, paper work scattered about on his desk and a cigar resting between his index and middle finger.

“Sir” Gaz says, awkwardly shuffling in place. “I’d like to apologize for earlier today”

“Already forgotten”

The surprise must’ve been clear on his face because the older man can’t help but chuckle.

“Sit down” Price says pointing at the chair opposite to him before taking another drag from the tobacco leaf.

Gaz swiftly takes a seat, hands resting on his knees, nervously chewing on his bottom lip.

There’s a moment of silence as Price rearranges the paper in a neat pile on his desk, pen carefully placed next to it before he speaks again.

“You got someone special waiting for you back home?”

Once again Gaz is surprised but this time the older man just looks at him and smiles.

“I do, sir”

“So do I” Price says smile getting bigger as he folds his arms across his chest and leans back in his chair. “Oh don’t look at me like that I’m not that old am I?”

“No - no sir” Gaz says, hands awkwardly flailing about and feeling his ears burn as he blurts out the words.

Price’s smile grows even bigger before he begins to explain “point is I’m sure that special someone wants you back home alive, if anything were to happen to me I’m sure the wife would find a way to haunt me in the after life”

Price’s gaze falls to his hands, fingers fidgeting with his wedding band.

Oh.

The wife.

The ring.

The captain is married.

“Sometimes we have to do things we rather not do to make sure we come back home to them, keep that in mind Garrick”

“Yes sir” Gaz says, mind still processing this new found information.

“Good, now if you excuse me I have someone to call,”

Gaz without thinking says “the wife?”

Price only chuckles but nods his head in confirmation “the wife”

Soap is the third person to find out and it happens while 141 are relaxing on base, playing cards and drinking beer.

Price walks in with black slacks and a white button, rolled all the way up to his elbows. On top of that there’s an invisible trail of cologne that seems to follow his form.

“Captain! Come join us” soap says not even looking up at the man but instead keeping laser focus on the cards in his hand.

“No can do boys I’m heading out with the wife”

Soap almost drops the cards in his hand, head turning so fast Price is surprised he doesn’t get whiplash. “You’re married?”

“I am” Price says trying to suppress his chuckle when he sees Gaz peaking at Soap’s cards. “You weren’t planning on proposing were you soldier?” Price jokes which sends the rest of the group into a fit of laughter.

Soap physically recoils at that, head turning back to his cards and muttering a “to you captain? No thanks”

“Alright then, I’m heading out” Price says, choosing to ignore soaps comments, as he pulls on his jacket“don’t wait up!”

As Price makes his way over to the front door, he hears the group continuing to tease soap, can even hear the Scotsman accuse Gaz of looking at his cards, but he quickly forgets about everything as he sees you parked outside and waiting for him.

Ghost was very well aware of Price’s spouse, had even been the first person to know that Price was planning to propose.

The two of them had been in an entirely different squad, and less familiar with each other when they got sent out on a mission. A lot of things went wrong that day so much so Ghost and Price weren’t sure if the both of them would get back home alive. So Price had taken the opportunity to tell him about this special someone, how he was planning to propose to this person when they were scheduled to go back home, had even forced a wedding band in the palm of Ghost’s hand and told him to give it to the person if Price doesn’t make it out alive.

Luckily the both of them had managed to get out alive and Ghost had gotten the opportunity to watch Price put the ring on this person’s hand.

With that being said Ghost should be able to recognize this person if they were to appear in front of him but it’s been years so when he hears someone asking where Price is he doesn’t think twice about telling them, chalking it up to some poor lost recruit looking for the captain, while keeping his eyes on the weapon he’s cleaning.

However he doesn’t get to do much more before he hears another voice.

“Who’s the guy?” says soap, confusion clear in his tone.

Ghost turns to the other man and the annoyance must’ve been clear in his eyes because Soap raises his hands in an apologetic manner. “Oh sorry did i interrupt something important “ he says with a smile on his face.

“Anyway a tall really tall dude maybe taller than the ghost?” He pauses as if contemplating before he continues to explain “was looking for Price, really buff too…” he trails off while glancing down at his arms “hey you think I should work out more?”

Ghost just sighs before he returns to cleaning his weapon but he’s once again interrupted when Gaz walks in.

“Captain wants to see us in his office”

And that’s when he fully gives up on the task as he follows the two other men over to Price’s office, grumbling over why the captain was calling them over while putting up with the chatter from the Scotsman telling Gaz all about the giant that just passed him.

It doesn’t take much before they find themselves in front of Price’s office.

Through the door they can hear Price’s voice along with a much deeper voice, holding a conversation.

Soap is the first to knock on the door, while sharing confused glances with the two other men.

“Come in”

The three men enter the room only to be met with the sight of Price standing behind his office chair where a man is sitting in it, both of them sporting equally bright smiles on their faces.

“Boys” Price says, face ever so proud as he looks down at the man “meet the wife”

The man stands up, tall just like Soap had described him and when he reaches a hand out they see a wedding band that matches the one on Price’s hand.

“I’m the wife” you say with a big smile on your face.

#anonie me and u can still be /the wife/ fawk what everyone says 🤝#alec answers #john price #john price x reader #john price x male reader #call of duty #captain john price #captain john price x male reader #captain john price x reader #scribbles #feral anon

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paigebueckersmommy · 1 month

Text

nervous - p.b

paige bueckers x fem!reader

warnings: smut??? fingering, virgin

requested by anon

you and paige’s relashionship was sneaking up on 6 months, and still hadn’t gotten past a heated makeout shesh. you knew paige wasn’t a virgin, and she knew you were and didn’t have a problem with it. your consent was her biggest priority, and you just hadn’t thought you were ready. with paige, all your problems went away and your own u loved when your lips were on hers, so you felt you were ready with paige.

you had thought long and hard about your decision to do this, so when paige asked to come over, you got excited and tried to prepare yourself for your first time with paige.

when she texted that she was there, you had a huge smile on your face as you buzzed her into your aparentment, you opened the door and pulled her into a hug with your head in the crook of her neck. “hi baby” she pulled away from your face as she said it with a smile looking at your huge grin. “you’re extra happy today what’s up ma?” paige said with a little giggle. you looks her in her beautiful eyes, and took a deep breath. “P i’m ready.” “oh, sweetheart are you sure? like 100%? this is a big thing,” paige said with the sweet voice you loved

“yes P i’m sure i love you so much and i wouldn’t want to do this with anyone but you.” you say lookin up at her. “okay baby” paige says with a smile, leading you to your bedroom. you sit down on the bed and paige lowers herself to your level, “mamas are sure your 100% you want this?” “yes paige i am 11% sure” you say giggling, “okay baby, can you take this off for me?” paige says grazing the fabric on your shirt. you follow her request, and she didn’t ask for it, but you take off your bra too.

“sweetheart i’m gonna finger you, is that okay?” paige said with such genuine eyes. “of course that’s okay baby.” you say, realizing the feelings your having. paige starts to take of your pants, as you suddenly stop her. “paige i’m nervous” you say. it wasn’t that paige made you nervous, it was just the fact that someone other than you would be doing this. “why did i do something wrong im so sorry” paige said with such innocent eyes. “no paige it’s not you , i just, i don’t know. but i defitnelu want to do this.” “okay my love. we can go as slow as you need me to for you to be comfortable.” paige said, with a look of worry. “okay paige i’m ready please do it.” paige looks at you before continuing to take off your pants and stick two of her veiny digits inside of you as you close your eye and breath out, she looks at you. “tell me when you want me to start moving baby no rush.” you start to gain more need.

“move please paige,” she starts to move her finger slowly pumping them “are you okay ma?” paige says. “yes fuck P please go faster,” “your wish is my command,” paige says with a cocky undertone. she starts pumpkin faster as you feel yourself start to clench. “fuck P i’m close i’m gonna cum” you say through breathy moans “cum for me princess” paige says as she watches you release under her with a grin.

after you recover from your orgasm, your still without a article of clothing on when paige is laying to you. “fuck if i knew you were that good i would’ve been ready a while ago.” you say. paige giggles, then breathes out, “baby im so proud of you you did so good for me. i’m glad that you felt safe enough to do with me it means a lot.”

a/n : i hate this so much

#paige bueckers #uconn wbb #paige bueckers smut #paige buckets #paige bueckers x reader

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lecfavs · 10 months

Text

they see me jollying 〆 lando norris

you were soft launching your relationship with lando but posting a picture of his fiat jolly wasn’t a smart decision so he has to make it official (instagram au)

yourusername

liked by carlossainz55, maxfewtrell and others

yourusername monaco by night

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fan1 omg is that lando’s jolly?

fan2 that’s, in fact, lando himself

fan3 hold on everything, so this is the mysterious girl lando has been seeing? OMG

landonorris i thought we were doing a soft launch

yourusername oops, love u

fan4 so it’s confirmed 🥳

danielricciardo that jolly has game ig

carlossainz55 i still don’t get how

user she looks like a bitch. pretty sure she only wants his money and fame

fan5 so you are telling me that lando norizz pulled her?

yourusername caught me by surprise as well

maxfewtrell please, don’t act like you don’t blush and kick your feet just because he exists

fan6 she’s hot

landonorris yes

fan5 omg, hi lando!!

user 🤢🤢

───────────────────────

landonorris

liked by yourusername, lnfour, pierregasly and others

landonorris ok so i’ll address this quickly. i love this girl with my whole heart specially when that beautiful smile pops up so don’t comment stuff that could make it disappear. lando’s out ✌🏽

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yourusername gross

landonorris shut up

yourusername you shut me up

landonorris omw

fan7 there are kids on this app pls

fan8 this is HOW YOU GET THE GIRL everyone

maxfewtrell oh so you smile @yourusername ?

yourusername when i’m not with you, yes

fan9 loving their dynamic hahah

fan10 parents

fan11 the pics he chose? im not ok i need a post of her in his .jpg account, i know it will be magical 😩😩

fan12 i just know he’s obsessed with her, pretty sure he has plenty of pics

maxverstappen1 they’re both obsessed with each other

oscarpiastri finally mate!

lnfour our favorite wag! 😎

#f1 fic #f1 imagine #lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris Instagram au #lando norris fic #f1 x you #f1 fanfic #lando norris fanfic #lando norris instagram edit

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wolfmoonmusic · 10 months

Note

hiiii! could u write a james potter x reader fic where james chooses lily over reader and she’s not like heartbroken because she understands where he’s coming from but james can’t get over the fact that he’s gonna lose her so he’s sobbing and breaking down and reader is just understanding and cuddling him telling him he’s okay and that she knows he’ll be ok <3

Slipping Away:

A/N: This made me cryyyyy

Pairing: James Potter x reader

w/c: 1500+

Warnings: ANGST ANGST ANGST. That's it lol.

Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<3

He was supposed to be happy.

The redhead in front of him was all he could think about for so many years.

And she’d finally, finally decided to give him a chance.

So then why did he feel so terrified?

Maybe it was because of the way that you were looking at him. As if he was your entire world and it had just come crashing down. You noticed him staring and gave him a proud smile, and a double thumbs up.

But eyes don’t lie.

Lily was standing there right in front of him, ready to call him hers, after years of constant pining. And yet all he could think about was the way Sirius’s arms wrapped around your shoulders, and the dejected look in your eyes.

He expected the heavy weight to blow over by dinner.

But it didn't.

He sat there, watching you laugh with the others, like your normal self. He knew you wouldn’t show any emotions that you were feeling, and that made him feel worse. He wishes you’d just slap him instead of acting like whatever happened didn’t affect you in the slightest.

He knew.

He knew what you felt for him, and he’d be lying if he said that there wasn’t a part of him that felt the same.

But he’d always love Lily more.

And you were his best friend. The fear of messing things up with you at some point and then losing you, terrified him.

However, something told him that he’d lost you already.

He couldn’t sleep at night.

He stayed up, constantly thinking about you and your expression that day.

And the haunting fear stayed.

He felt like he was drowning and usually he’d go to you. But he couldn’t. Not this time. Not when you were probably in the same situation, a little farther down, struggling to swim up with your own weight tied to your feet.

He lay there, counting the hours, until he decided he couldn’t anymore, and walked down to the common room.

And he instantly wished he hadn’t.

You were sitting there, a blank look on your face as you stared off into nothingness.

He felt you slipping away from his fingers then. Because at times like this, he’d be the first you called.

But of course, he’d never been the reason for this before.

He stood, frozen, unsure what to do, and maybe he should’ve decided sooner, because you seemed to realize you weren’t alone, and turned to face him.

“Hey James.” You’re surprised, he can tell, but he doesn’t move, still scared to make any decision. The last time he had to make a tough choice is what led to this in the first place, and now he was too scared to move.

You pat the seat next you, and he thinks that maybe it’s the right thing to do. Maybe this will fix everything. Maybe you’re not as affected by it as he thought.

But as he sits down, he knows he’s wrong.

Terribly, terribly wrong.

You’re wearing Sirius’s oversized sweater.

He gave it to you because he didn’t like how loose it was, and you’d started wearing it when you were in a bad mood. You said that it provided comfort to you, and that whenever you wrapped your arms around yourself, the extra cloth would bunch up, making you feel like you were being hugged.

The second he saw it, James’s resolve broke.

The tears flowed freely, a sob wracking his body.

He felt so stupid for crying when clearly you were hurting more.

You didn’t react immediately, watching him as he continued to sob into his hands. And James thought that it was for the best. He didn’t want you to comfort him. He wanted you to cry as well, cursing him for ever deciding to choose Lily over you.

But of course, you’d never do that.

You wrapped your arms around his body, resting your cheek against his shoulder.

“It’s okay,” you whispered.

“No, no it’s not,” James replied, still crying. Why wouldn’t you just yell at him? Why couldn’t you call him out for how unfair he was being?

You shush him, gently rubbing his hand.

“This is it isn’t it? I-I’m gonna lose you,” He muttered, and he felt you freeze. He was right. Of course he was. Who would stay with him after what he’d just done?

But you didn’t let go.

You pulled him towards you, so that his head was resting on your chest, arms wrapped around his shoulders.

“You’re not gonna lose me Jamie. At least, not forever,” you mutter, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

He didn’t know what you meant. But it only made the pain in his chest double. Usually being your arms released the building pressure, but this time, it only amplified.

He couldn’t even imagine how you felt.

“Please yell at me. Curse me, do something but please please don’t sit here and hug me after everything I’ve done,” he voice was pleading. He needed you to do that so that he didn’t have to see you upset tomorrow. Or watch you laugh, knowing the truth of how much this had affected you.

But your arms only tightened around him.

“No,” You whisper, your voice shaky.

You’re crying.

“I get it. She’s the love of your life. I’m not mad. I’m not upset,” you pause, your hands gently rubbing his back, “not upset with you at least,” you mutter.

James knows what you mean. You’d always compared yourself with Lily. She was the only person who you deemed worthy enough to be your competition, for many things. You two were friends and you’d never let that get compromised. Not even now. But you’d always felt insecure when it came to her.

And James had only fueled it.

He couldn’t tell you to not compare yourself with her, after he’d literally chosen her over you.

But you were both different people and he wanted you to know that.

He pulled away, looking at your tear stained face. “Please don’t compare yourself,” he muttered. Ashamed that he was even in a situation like this in the first place.

You smiled sadly, sniffling, “Kinda hard not to. It’s okay. I just need…time,” you say nodding your head.

You took your hands in his, and internally, James begged for another try. He wanted a chance to go back in time, to fix things.

But he knew that would be wrong.

Because it was the truth. He loved Lily more. He always had, and he always would.

Yet the crushing feeling of losing you overpowered that love right now.

“I’m gonna need time,” you avoided his gaze, looking down at your intertwined hands, tears falling onto them.

“What do you mean?” he asked, knowing full well what you were going to say next, and it crushed him.

“I need some time away from you. You’re not losing me but-” Your voice cracked and you trailed off, unable to finish your sentence.

It hurt way more hearing you say it.

His grip on your hands tightened. “No. No please. For how long? I need you.”

You let out a small laugh, and for the first time since James had met you, he felt the bitter touch. “That’s not fair James,” you said, shaking your head. “I’ll come back, just give me some time.”

You were slipping away. Fast.

And there was nothing he could do about it.

“You’re gonna be okay,” you whispered, running your thumb over his knuckles. “You’re gonna be okay. You don’t need me. You have Lily, you have the boys and if something really bad happens I’m always right here. I just…I just need some time,” you muttered, looking at him.

James felt like he was being torn apart. He watched your hurt eyes, contradicting the soft smile on your face. He didn’t want to hurt you. He never had. But he couldn’t deny his strong feelings for the redhead. He knew you’d only be even more hurt if he’d chosen you while loving the other girl more.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, sniffling, as the tears continued to fall.

“I know James. It’s okay,” you mutter.

You pat his hands before pulling away, bending over to press your lips against his forehead.

You stay like that for a moment and James feels like dying.

You always care so much. No matter how much someone hurts you, you always care. You shouldn’t be comforting him right now. Not when you’re probably hurting more.

“You’re gonna be okay,” you say once more as you move away, standing up.

Then you’re walking away from him and up to the dorms and with each step James feels you slip away.

Until he can no longer see you, and he knows you’re gone.

Maybe not permanently. But you both will never be the same again. Because you’ll no longer look at him like he’s the most amazing person you’ve ever met. And he’ll never be able to forgive himself for hurting you like this.

But you’re gone now and all he can do is pray that you’ll come back.

-------

Taglist: @pinchofhoney @targaryenmoony @padfootagain

#x reader #x you #angst #marauders era #james potter x you #james potter x yn #james potter x reader #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #marauders #the marauders #james potter angst #heavy angst #one shot #james potter x reader angst

1K notes · View notes

hoseoksluna · 9 days

Text

VAPOR, pt II. | jjk ft. myg

pairing: boyfriend!jungkook x steam!oc

genre: smut, a great dose of angst

word count: 11.9k

summary: hard times ask for extra care and like the healer he is, jungkook doesn't fail to give you his absolute best.

pinterest board: vapor | playlist: vapor

warnings: heartbreak, lots of tears, oral sex (f. and m. receiving), praise kink, sucking fingers, female masturbation, fingering, oc is extremely wet and jk is rly rly hard for her <3, squirting, multiple orgasms, jk tells her off kinda and it's hot, pet names, raw and rough sex, the abandonment issues are heavy in one part, mention of a sex toy

note: hi, my loves. this was absolutely painful to write, but i know i made a good decision. unfortunately for those who are waiting for the next series—i'm sorry, but this will have another part. it's already so long and if i kept going, it'd have probably like 20k plus words and i don't want to take up your time. i think i can manage to post the last part THIS week, so look forward to this. one part of the happy ending done. <3 i love you, guys, i hope you like this. don't hesitate to let me know; i worked hard and i want validation skfjslkfjsklfs. enjoy, my loves. <3

A dead man for the fifth time, Jungkook finds the unfolding of the events quite ridiculous now. And he’s not surprised, how could he really be at this point, that there’s radio silence within the chambers of his heart.

The food court is muted, the lights are ever still bright, but the corners of his eyes gain peculiar shadows that cling to the side of your face as you swirl your spoon in your hot soup. His phone is ringing and its obnoxious sound is but a vibration in his hand and the only thing that’s delaying him from sliding his thumb across his device is some sort of consent in your solemn, yet saddened features. He can see translucent threads lining your rounded lips that have sown your mouth shut, preventing you from speaking out your tender heart and it’s predominantly this thing, among the obvious other ones, that drives him to make a scene in front of all of these people crowded around him.

If he has to, he will rip those wisps. Make it as painless as possible because whether he likes it or not, he needs you right now. Needs your word of advice, needs your consent in order to do what the entirety of his organs yearns to do. And if you say no, he’ll willingly turn his phone off and refuse to speak to his once-closest friend.

Just for the sake of your mental health. Just to outrun fate and grasp her wrist to stop her from furthermore scarring your heart.

You have enough of them and he has only one pair of lips to heal them.

Lifting the spoon to your mouth, you keep your gaze on its silver coat and it unnerves him—the fact you won’t look at him, the fact that you so evidently don’t want to be in this situation. Your own boyfriend is chasing you around town, even though he transmitted waves of nothingness your way when he had you under his roof. He doesn’t fucking understand it. Doesn’t understand how he’s capable of doing such a thing and fury rises in his gut, soars high to his throat, which constricts around it so tightly that it forbids him from inhaling any oxygen into his lungs. And he fears that if he speaks, it’ll soak you. Make you even smaller than you are and he’ll hate himself for the rest of his life for it.

However…

He needs to talk to you. Time is pressing down on his shoulders once again and here and now, he’s too burdened, too fragile to bear it. His stoicism has long been fractured, its shards cracking cacophonously under the soles of his sneakers and… the singular tear rooting on his pale cheek hasn’t even dried up.

“Tell me what to do, sweetheart,” Jungkook says, his voice a soft, deep murmur; a plea. His surroundings gain volume, little by little, the lack of air in his lungs causing his mind to spin. His body grows cold and, unwittingly, he bounces his leg underneath the table. “If you don’t want me to pick up this call, I won’t. It’s your decision.”

He knows that whatever it is that will come out of your mouth and change the trajectory of his fury, he’ll protect you nonetheless. No matter what, no matter what it takes. He’ll unleash what’s been swarming in him for a long time in private sometime later if you ask for it—he’ll gladly tell his organs no and they’ll have to listen. That’s certainly not an issue.

What will be an issue is if you remain quiet. He doesn’t know what will happen to him under that circumstance. He has very little trust in something that’s out of his grasp and he has strong disliking for the looseness of it all. Doesn’t feel right.

A quick, soft slurp of your soup. A lift of your weary eyes. A kick in his heart. “I don’t want to make any decision. If you want to pick up the call, you should. I don’t mind. If you don’t, that’s fine, too.”

He must be dead because he’s staring at his own reincarnation.

You’ve walked so far on your pathway of suffering that you reached the point that you don’t care anymore. Don’t care that there’s a risk Yoongi will see you or hear you. Don’t care about what’s going to happen when he does and about the events after. It’s as admirable as it is disturbing and a faint pulse begins to sound in his chest. Thrill nips at his skin; a sense of responsibility uncoiling within, linking to the surety of his instinct to protect you. To stand up for you. To make things right in a way, way different manner than he’s ever tried before and it’s those inclinations that drive his thumb to swipe across the screen.

Though he doesn’t look at Yoongi. No, he looks at you, studying your features. It’s not that he doesn’t trust your words, he does and vehemently so, but this is a difficult situation that you’re both in and it would be only understandable if the gravity of it washed over you all of a sudden and you weren’t comfortable with this anymore. He wouldn’t hesitate to end the call right away. Fuck what Yoongi thinks.

But nothing changes about your weariness. It’s a still pool of water, unmoving and utterly impenetrable, like the pond behind his cabin during cold, winter times. When this is over, he promises to get warm and dip his fingers in, permeate your skin with rosiness and coziness. Stall the change of seasons unfurling in you.

And Jungkook pleats that promise into the palm of your hand as he takes it, his thumb against your head line. Watches you stuff your mouth full with noodles. His own stomach churns, the fury half parting, making a way for his hunger to suffuse his senses. He’s so happy you’re eating that all he can think about is how he’s going to make your life better with this one singular video call.

He leaves you to it and focuses his gaze down on Yoongi. His once-close friend is driving in his car and despite the shit view he has of him, due to his service and the way Yoongi’s phone is angled, he can still see the way he’s swathed by murkiness. The purple marks under his eyes are a stark contrast to the pallidness of his skin and his hair is a mess, tufts of black strands sticking in different directions as if he had been on the verge of ripping his hair out. He has one hand on the steering wheel, while the other runs over his upper lip. Over and over, back and forth, waiting, patiently, for Jungkook’s attention.

He starts speaking once he knows he has it.

“Sorry to bother you, I didn’t know who else to call.” He sighs and explains that he’s calling because of you, the mention of your name causing his voice to crack. “I drove up to her apartment, but she’s not there. She told me she was going to her place when she… when she… left.”

So he heard you loud and clear, and yet he didn’t have the decency to respond to you, make you know that you were heard. Jungkook looks at you and this time you look back at him, too. A tight, painful exchange of glances. He squeezes your hand, even as Yoongi continues.

“She’s not picking up the phone. I’m worried about her—”

Jungkook is swift with his words. “You should’ve thought of that before you let her leave,” he snaps, his whole body tense, hanging yet again by the thread. He keeps his hold over your hand gentle, despite it all—despite the fact that his form yearns to explode. “You’re too reckless. Leave her alone.”

Your eyes widen while Yoongi’s narrow, but he doesn’t regret what he said. He knows there’s utmost truth in them, something that should scramble his brain until he comprehends it. Yoongi’s mouth purses in a tight line and his fist clenches before he places it on the steering wheel with a thud.

“Don’t talk to me like this. I don’t need this,” Yoongi mutters, pulling out his hyung card and while it angers Jungkook even more, he also thinks that’s the biggest load of bullshit that has ever come out of his mouth. “I need to know where she is.”

He gazes intently at you as he says, “It’s none of your business.”

And those big eyes of yours round in a good emotion that he can’t really recognize and slowly, you swallow down your noodles. Speechless, he deduces. A tendril of adrenaline courses in him, strengthening his responsibility and protectiveness over you, kissing it ever so sweetly when you squeeze his hand.

A validation.

Jungkook could stay like this. He wouldn’t mind at all—it feels too nice. Feels like you’re his. And perhaps at this very moment you are.

The feeling is so overwhelming that he doesn’t give two shits about the fact Yoongi is detonating on the other side of the screen. He keeps his eyes on you.

“What the fuck do you mean it’s none of my business? Is she with you?”

It’s at this moment that a proud smile curls Jungkook’s lips. And it’s joy that absorbs his organs, his heart beating loudly and clearly. Even the people around him seem happier in his peripheral vision. He thinks this night tops in the best days he’s ever had.

Tension has grabbed a hold of you, too. But he will make it better. He’s got you.

He continues with the truth and he’s not afraid of it. Not at all.

“Yes, she’s safe with me.”

Those words, most peculiarly, soothe Yoongi’s rage. Silence fills his car, one that forces Jungkook to flick his eyes to his phone because he truly can’t believe what’s happening. Yoongi runs his hand down his face and nods once, the murkiness loosening a fair bit before it pulps him. It’s now that he becomes small. A tiny boy, at the hands of his own repercussions. Displeased, but relieved. A strange, strange sight.

“Good,” Yoongi says and Jungkook’s stomach drops. “She should be with you. You’re better than me in ways I could never be. She doesn’t need me anymore.”

Your mouth parts and a vexation of your own clutches you. Enough for you to drop your spoon and lift your hand, palm up. The adrenaline in Jungkook’s system thickens. “Give me the phone.”

Yoongi's head turns to the screen at the sound of your irritated voice and Jungkook’s smile widens, handing you the device. He knows what you’re about to say will put an end to this difficult situation and he’s eager to hear it, eager for it to happen.

“Careful, don’t make him crash his car,” Jungkook whispers, ever so smug, just for your ears, but on the other hand, he doesn’t care if it finds a way to your boyfriend’s as well. You gaze at him most solemnly, fleetingly, and he can’t read shit in your expression. He’s not troubled by it, however; he wants you to let loose in whatever form of your choosing, of your liking. You deserve it, to be boundless like that. It’s been a long time coming.

His phone in your hand is too large and he finds it so cute that it helps him relax. Without withdrawing his hand, he hunches over his soup, getting his utensils ready.

And his first taste of his meal is as good as the first words you hurl at Yoongi.

“Are you joking right now? Is that all you have to say after everything? You’re actually unbelievable,” you spit, shooting daggers at the screen, your brows furrowed, a lethal glare directed at him. Yoongi doesn’t say anything, but he hears him sigh. “I’d like you to know that it’s my decision that I’m with him. Not yours. You’re not in control of it and you never will be again. I’m with him because I want to be with him, not because you let me be with him or because you think it’s good.”

Your voice rises in volume ever so slightly, respectful of your surroundings, but untethering your heart free nonetheless. A tortured pain coats it, despite the fact you’re holding yourself strong and it drives Jungkook to let go of his spoon, unable to eat when he feels your agony in all its raw immensity. You struck his awe and all he can do is watch you make order of your life. For your sake and also, most remarkably, for his. A beautiful, beautiful sight.

Love unable to be real turning away, slowly, from the dead end.

“So, we’re over?” Yoongi asks, small—small voice. Jungkook has never heard it before and butterflies zap his stomach with the strongest electricity they could come across.

Your face doesn’t change and you don’t hesitate to unleash your next words. “I think you should go see other people and heal from this mess. You’ve grown too attached to your own fucked up impressions and you need a reality check.”

Such coldness, such brutality. Jungkook can’t breathe—finds it hard to believe this is happening right now, that angels are by his side, keeping his bloodstream flowing. He feels as though he’s dreaming again due to the speck of vagueness in your answer. Yes, you’ve told him to go see other people, but he’s also aware that Yoongi needs the raw truth on a silver platter. If there’s anything he hates with all his being, it’s the abyss of obscurities. It’s the space in his brain for him to make up for the emptiness of your words.

Jungkook intertwines his fingers with yours, his thumb fondling the crook between your thumb and your forefinger, giving you the little strength he possesses in him—the last of it, all he has.

Are you breaking up with him or are you taking a break?

Jungkook longs to know, perhaps he needs it, too, even though both options are more than merciful for such a wretched dreamer like him. A dreamer that has stumbled upon gold in a poor, poor world.

“Honey, please.” Yoongi breaks into sobs and it’s now, now as Jungkook hears the sound of a raw emotion from such a detached person that he softens, his fury snuffed out in a blink of an eye, and he can’t feel his arms, nor his legs. He realizes, most strangely, that it’s his friend, one he spent the last ten years of his life with. The aftertaste of copper pools in his mouth again and his own eyes wet. Yours, too, your chin quivering the more you take in his devastated state. “I can’t do this without you. I–I don’t know how to.”

Despite your tenderness, your words remain firm. “I think you’ve managed quite well these past few days. You’ve pushed me away, needed space. So go have it. I won’t suffer through it, though. I’ll do what I want, you should, too. You need to heal in the only way you know how. Alone.”

Yoongi sniffles, taking long breaths to seemingly calm his shuddering lungs. And pity enfolds his heart, pity for his friend that he’s become such a wreck and that he’s a witness to it, more than the cause behind it. He puts the latter to the side, now is not the right time for it.

He knows what will happen to him once he breaks the dam of self-blame. It’s not what you need right now and he will make sure to keep that dam of your own safe and stable. It’s his duty.

“Will you wait for me?” Yoongi asks and Jungkook feels that question curl around his gut. With a light layer of sadness, he returns to his food, his stomach grumbling.

You sigh, swiping your fingers under the skin beneath your lower lashes, perhaps so Yoongi doesn’t see your weakness. Jungkook watches you as he slurps on his noodles, nervous—terribly, terribly nervous.

“I don’t know if I’m able to trust you like that again,” you conclude, taking a big breath and Jungkook chokes on his food, coughing so hard that you untangle your hand from his and slap his back. “Gotta go. I’ll call you later.” You end the phone call and gently lay down his phone, rubbing his back soothingly as Jungkook splutters. “Are you okay? What happened?”

What happened? You gave him life. Made a pathway for his dreams to come true. Gave him a leeway to walk upon this earth with no weight on his shoulders. Turned something inaccessible accessible.

Love unreal becomes real, running headlong in the opposite direction of the dead end.

The last of his aching coughs emit out of his throat and he swallows, lungs heaving with freedom and easy, easy breaths. The air is different, the oxygen much sweeter. You put his tall glass of water into his hand, encouraging him to drink, never letting go of him as Jungkook takes a big sip, the cold liquid washing away all of those dark ashes left from the fire of his fury. His vision blurs once he looks at you in this new, shifted reality and there’s a smile to his face, calmness surging through his body, exhilaration most needed twining around it.

“You tell me,” Jungkook says, almost out of breath—out of his mind. “What just happened?”

You go back to your soup, squeeze your fried egg open with your chopsticks. “I’m not letting him hurt me again. I don’t have to be strong and take it, do I?” With the yolk spilling in, you push the entirety of the egg white into your mouth, huffing in delight, rolling your eyes back and chewing, cheeks puffed up like a little squirrel. His own utensils go slack in his hand, watching you enjoy your food, his heart enlarging. But then you furrow your brows and stop chewing. “Fuck, it’s cold, but it’s so good.” You sigh and resume chewing, your eyes flicking across the table, your body bouncing excitedly in your seat. You act as though you didn’t just break your own boyfriend’s heart—as if you led a normal conversation with him, in which he was just checking up with you. Jungkook’s awe is so struck that he can’t speak. Can’t eat. Can’t do anything but watch you with all that love abounding in his being for you. And then you flick your eyes to his and the wrinkle between your brows deepens. “Why aren’t you eating? Is it too cold?”

He calls your name, firmly. Leans back in his seat with a big sigh. Rubs his eyes with his fingers. “What just happened?”

There’s simply no way this is real.

You devour your noodles, swallowing spoonfuls of soup. “I ended things with him, Jungkook, and I’m not coming back to him.”

His mouth dries, heart picks up speed. How are you saying this with such ease? Isn’t your heart split in two? Your devotion clung to his guy with every breath you took and back at his cabin, you wouldn’t let him play with you unless Yoongi was present. How come it seems like you’re anything but heartbroken right now?

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asks in all honesty, confounded by your behavior.

You push away your bowl, cradling your full belly. “Yes, I’m okay.”

He doesn’t really believe you. Losing your appetite was proof enough. “Positive?”

You look over to the side and your chin begins to quiver. There it is. Your hand flies to your face and you hide the rupture of your pretense behind it. The corners of your face, the only parts he gets to see, flush in red and Jungkook grabs your things with a heavy, sinking heart. Walks over to you and gives you his hand.

“Let’s go home, sweetheart.”

The weeping clouds have migrated not just to your eyes but to his, too. The night is deep and Jungkook feels it, ardently, coming to rest beneath his skin, floating on its back upon the stream of his tears that he’s stifling. He’s holding your hand and your purse as he’s leading you to his place. You didn’t want to see the face of your apartment. As a matter of fact, you couldn’t stand anything that reminded you of Yoongi and you begged him to take you somewhere you’ve never been before. Jungkook only nodded, brushing away the tears that managed to escape. Thought he’d bring you to any place you’d ever ask, just as long as you stuck with him.

He’s gained what he wanted for a long time, but at what cost? The two people he loves the most are broken. One, his dearest, he’s grasping tightly so she wouldn’t fly away. The other is becoming but a memory, ten years going down the drain—never to be seen again, never to be continued.

He has you, but he lost Yoongi. And the realization hangs, heftily, over his clavicles, swinging back and forth, kicking into his chest.

He can’t stand the sight of him either, however. How strange.

Once inside the warmth of his apartment, he can’t help but rid you of the hideous flannel of his that you’re wearing, bunching it up in his fists and throwing it away to the corner of his bench on the side of his wall without you knowing. With his hand on the small of your back, he guides you to his living room and he lets you skim your sight all around it, slipping his fingers under the hem of your tiny top, just touching you there. White walls, brown leather couch, a TV that takes up the most of the space alongside the kitchen with a plain dining area consisting of an old wooden, rectangular table with four chairs. A huge singular space of nothingness that has never felt home-like, not until you’ve stepped inside.

Now, all of a sudden, it has colors. Vibrant, yet soft-toned with each inhale of his breath. You bring your oxymorons everywhere you go and they stay where you reside, even if you move someplace else. The evidence of it is in his very body. While he feels at his most fragile, he also senses himself to be strong. Strong enough to take care of you right at this moment, be there for you and give you anything you’d ever want. And while his eyes are still wet, cheeks bedewed by his softness, he also wants to break this place—self-blame creeping in, threatening to emerge from the hidden spots somewhere within the battlefield of his chest.

This is his fault. Had he never said yes, you wouldn’t be in pain and neither would his friend be. But in that scenario, he wouldn’t know you existed. Wouldn’t have you. Would lead a forlorn life, with his paints and his alcohol.

You would be happy with Yoongi. Radiant, glowy. With your glitters, your little dresses. Your nighttime robes and your little lingerie.

Would you? Has he ruined your happiness? Has he ruined you?

Jungkook turns you around to him. He needs to ask you; he needs to have the certainty, otherwise he won’t sleep tonight. Won’t even close his eyes—the thoughts would eat away his drowsiness. Leave only wakefulness in their wake. Jungkook presses his lips against your forehead, lingering there, formulating his words, carefully. His hands clutch your shoulders. Your frail, slender shoulders.

Yoongi devastated your appetite enough that you lost all your soft fleshiness. He took it away and he doesn’t even perceive it. It was clear to him by the way you pushed your plate away, when your emotions rushed through; you didn’t have to say a word. And although he grieves the personal loss, still this is something he’ll never forgive him for.

“Would you have been happy if you never knew me?” he asks, subduedly, torment clawing at his vocal cords. “Would you have been happy with him?”

A teardrop spills down your cheekbone, plopping onto the material of your top, soaking it. You furrow your brows, seem angry at his choice of words and he regrets them, enough that his mouth rounds in a tender emotion that he’s too weak to stifle back. And then you bunch up his T-shirt, just like you did earlier in the dressing room, and there’s a tendril of relief that maybe he didn’t fuck up so majestically. He wants to weep; holding them back pains him too much and that ease, that repose is all he wants. It’s not that he’s shy or unwilling to let out his feelings—it’s just that he’s putting yours above his, deeming them more important. He wants to be strong for you, someone you can lean on—and how can he do that for you when he’s crumbling on the inside?

“How can you say that to me?” you ask in disbelief and Jungkook wants to rewind back the time. Wants to keep quiet and just hold you through this fateful night. He winces, looking away, his own chin quivering this time and he can’t—he can’t hold back. He possesses no strength. A tear trickles down his cheek, one full of agony, hot against his skin and he whimpers, he whimpers when you cradle his face in your hands, step on your tippy toes and press your lips against his. Your mouth is so warm and he’s shivering with cold; silky while his are ruined by the constant biting he did in the car. He is a ruination—how can you want him? He ruined your relationship. And now even his tears have stained your angelic, pure face.

“I feel like I’ve ruined everything,” he admits and his chest hurts, lungs tight, body trembling in that persisting cold. “I’ve ruined your relationship. I’ve ruined your life. Yoongi’s. Caused so much pain, so much trauma. Only because I let my friends convince me into going out when I came back from the military.”

The wrinkle between your brows smooths down and you pout, caressing his face. Jungkook can’t halt the rivulet of his liquid emotions. Not when he feels your love so awfully intensely, embracing him around and around, tightening, giving him a sense of safety.

“Can I tell you something?” You take his hand in yours and Jungkook already misses your warm touch on his face. He nods. “Where’s your room?”

He leads you there and you crawl onto his bed, patting the space beside you, curling on your side. He mirrors your position and you prop the side of your leg on his, intertwining your fingers with his on the bedding, moving his hand to your mouth.

And your words seep into his fist.

“We were together for five months and I never met his family. Never met his friends, except you. I never really thought about it in depth because he kept me busy, despite the fact all we did was fuck. It was enough for me, I guess, because I’d been alone for a long, long time before I met him. And I’m a bit of a loner myself so I didn’t mind that we spent all of our time in his apartment, fucking and watching movies. It wasn’t until I met you, Jungkook,” you pause, taking a big breath in, fondling his knuckles with your thumb, soothing him, soothing the drowsiness that is suddenly falling upon him like a blanket, waving off his tears, drying them. “That I realized it’s not really supposed to be like this in my life. I remember that night when he was out with you and I was in the bathroom. I thought about when was the last time he took me out and I shivered. I shivered, Jungkook. It was the first seed sown and I didn’t know. And when you came into my life, I spent my weekends out with you. You took me to your cabin, you took me out to dinner dates. Even today you took me to the mall. I realized it’s supposed to be like this. Yoongi never did that.”

Your words tingle across his fist and he’s quick with his own. “But were you happy?”

So are you. You don’t hesitate. “I thought I was, but the way I’m happy with you can’t compare to the way I thought I was happy with him.”

The truth wafts in the air, sweetening it and another onrush of tears come out of his tear ducts. He leans in closer to you, nose to nose, sniffling, sobbing quietly and you kiss his hand. Over and over, breathing against his skin. Light opens in him as the truth unfolds—with the little time he had with you, he managed to make you happier. Not just happy, but happier.

“I had a lot of time to think about this. It wasn’t just today that he didn’t speak to me. He barely did throughout the week, but today was the worst of it all and I couldn’t take it anymore. It hurt, it hurt so much,” you continue and Jungkook knows how much it pains you, when Yoongi abandons you over and over, clawing his fingernails in your scars. He’s glad, brims completely with that gratefulness that it also rolls down his cheeks, mingling with his tears, that you were strong enough to put a stop to it—as hard as it was. “And you know what I think? Yoongi needs someone like that. Someone who’s a much bigger loner than I am. Someone who’s okay with staying home, with keeping things casual. He needs a friend and I’ll continue being that for him, but not in the way he wants. I’ll be there for him, but not as closely as he was used to, you know? It has to be a process. I can’t just disappear out of his life. I don’t have the heart to do that.”

Extending his arm, Jungkook invites you to rest your head against his bicep—only because he yearns to touch you. Without untangling your intertwinement, you lay against him, breathing in his scent and Jungkook wraps the same arm around your shoulders, cocooning you in. Body to body, his lips against your forehead. You look up at him and he looks down at you, a profound exchange of glances. The reality shifts once more, the energy deepens, filling it with something beyond affection and love—fate thickening the air, intense, earnest and impassioned. And submitting to it, Jungkook raises your chin and kisses you, deeply, slipping his tongue inside just briefly. Kisses your cheek, your neck, your shoulder, hides himself in that crook, breathing with you and nothing else.

A brand new reality.

He can’t help but think about how smart you are. How admirable, how good. How well you handled everything, how well you made an order out of your life and ultimately out of Yoongi’s, too. Like Jungkook will take care of you, you will take care of Yoongi—not leaving him on his own with his shattered heart and mental health. He just hopes that sometime soon, he will be able to have a part in it, too. It’s his utmost wish. No matter how upset he was with him, how strongly he disliked him in certain moments, it’s still a person he loves, a person he spent the last ten years of his life with. A family, almost.

“Do you think he’ll ever forgive me?” Jungkook whispers, squeezing you against his body, drawing you closer until your lungs and his gain that singular synchronization. Your leg straddles his torso and he grows greedy, needing you even closer. Needing to get underneath your skin.

“I’ll try my best to make it happen,” you whisper back, running your fingers through his hair. The light that shines in your eyes faintly illuminates his shadowy room and it’s precisely the one he longed to see. Something tells him it’s here to stay and it drives his thumb to caress your wet lashes, the skin beneath your eyes, your rose-kissed cheek.

Jungkook trusts you. You’re such a badass that you will succeed in anything you set yourself out to do. And he tells you. Asks you if you want to take a bath. Thinks it will distract your heart from what it knows, from what it’s used to. Teach it something new—something you will connect only with him.

And your reaction enlarges his heart to the point that it breaks his ribcage. Your eyes widen, its light erupting, blinding him, and you gasp, lifting your whole body and grabbing his shirt in your fists. He chuckles in endearment.

“You have a bathtub?”

And your eyes almost fall out of their sockets at the sight of it once he carries you to his bathroom and sets you down. He kisses the back of your head, his hands on your hips, guiding you closer to the bathtub, reaching over to lift the tap and let hot water pour down. You both need it after such an emotionally-exhausting day and Jungkook is eager to get in with you.

“Stay here. Don’t strip. I’ll get your candle,” Jungkook says, lowly, squeezing your hips once and caressing your bum as he turns around and heads to the kitchen.

He wants to be the one who takes off your clothes. Plans to do something with you he hasn’t done in a long while, something he deems you deserve after everything you’ve been through. He grabs your mango-scented candle, your bag of cheese balls, a lighter and a chair and returns to you.

You’re crouching by the bathtub, your hand flowing in the hot water, its steam curling, tenderly, your hair cascading down your back. Jungkook pats the back of your head to announce that he’s come back and you smile up at him, your eyes big and twinkling, so magnificent that he grows weak in the knees, butterflies fluttering their wings in his stomach.

Lighting up your candle, you watch as he does it, each three knots flaring up to life and suffusing the air with a balmy, tropical scent. He sets it down on the chair and, helping you stand up to your feet, he doesn’t waste a second. His fingers hook under the hem of your top and fling it out. And because he knows you’ve never bared yourself like this before him, he hides your nakedness by pressing you against his chest, your soft breasts a pleasure, his digits sliding beneath your leggings and dragging them down your hips, looking over your shoulder. You shimmy out of them, moving your hips ever so delightfully and before he knows it, he’s on his knees—kissing the apex of your thighs as he takes your feet out of the pant legs. And he thinks he could stay here all his life.

Jungkook looks up at you as he removes your socks, kissing your knee without breaking the gaze, and he hopes that you can sense his love for you in it, the unyielding stability that he will cling to you with his body and soul—simply, with his entire being.

Rising slowly, he kisses his pathway up, leaving behind the translucent evidence of that love. Your mound, which makes you giggle, a celestial symphony to his ears, your full tummy where he hopes your invisible rose tattoos still are, both sides of your ribs, the middle of your breasts, your sternum, your collarbones, your throat, your chin—up and up until his lips find yours. And he devours them. With such vigor that you hum into his mouth, your hands reaching for his shirt again.

Oh, you want him to get in as well. Very well.

He wanted to be the witness to your relaxation, but if it’s your desire that he shares it with you—by all means. He lets you take off his shirt, lifting his arms for you, and you’re quick to allow your hands to discover the parts they don’t know. His mole beneath his left pec that he caught you staring at shortly after that turn of events at the cabin. You press your mouth against it, unravel your love for it there by grazing your teeth against it before you lick it over with your tongue, going as far as marking the spot right beside it. Jungkook sinks his fingers in your hair, reveling in it, tummy tingling, holding you like that as you do what you please. Your own digits descend to his pants, setting him free from them and when you get on your knees just like him, his cock tightens in your face.

And he dies, angels know for how many times today, when you rub your face in this intimate part of him, his heart bursting.

Not now—he can’t let you do that now. He wants your muscles to relax first before he can strain them all over again, in a much different way.

“My sweetie,” he starts, sighing, rubbing your scalp. He takes you by the back of your neck, sliding his hand underneath your armpit, and drags you up. A healthy, radiant flush adorns you and he’s glad for the paleness to be gone. Glad his body is the cause of it. It makes his heart happy. “Not now. Let’s get in the tub.”

Your stiffened nipples brush against his bare chest and he almost doubles over, loving the feeling of it. The sigh that leaves your mouth, so akin to his, too.

“But you’re hard,” you whisper, tugging down his boxers until his cock springs free and you immediately wrap your small hand around it, squeezing him lightly.

He can’t help but to grunt, the faint pleasure dizzying. He missed your hand, missed your touch. Haven’t had it in so long. It fits so well in your fist and he believes, in all seriousness, that it belongs to you. It’s yours.

He brushes his lips against yours, but he doesn’t kiss you. His brain malfunctions a little bit, the pleasure you’re giving him zapping his dominance. “You like holding me like this?”

You fondle his tip with your thumb and he hisses, sparks of electricity coursing down his body and he hums at the aftershocks. So good. He feels his arousal drip for you; feels himself lengthening in your hand. You nod, watching it happen, and while it feels nice to be looked at like that, he wants your eyes on him. He cradles your face in one hand, making you look at him, and he pecks you. At the contact, you finally nod your head. Jungkook envelops his palm around your fist and guides you to squeeze him harder, groaning onto your mouth.

“You’re such a good girl,” he praises and embraces you, hiding himself in the crook of your neck again, inhaling you. Petrichor, mango, your personal scent. It’s all he wants to breathe in for the rest of his life. It’s what heaven must smell like. Actually, heaven must be what he’s hugging.

You whimper and for it Jungkook tightens his hold around you. Skin to skin. He’ll never get over it. “I love being good for you.”

He hums his approval, following the cascade of your hair down your back with his palm, rooting at your bum, grasping the flesh. “You’re the best girl. Let’s get you clean.”

The loss of contact aches and he can see it even on your face, an adorable pout forming on your mouth. Helping you get in the bathtub, you wait until he joins you and it’s only then that you sit down, unsure of how both of you are going to fit in such a small space like this. Knees in between his, you exchange a few giggles in the awkwardness of it all before Jungkook kisses them and leads you to lean back against him, your spine against his chest, your body getting lost in his.

Turning off the tap, the water is scorching but pleasant, his muscles relaxing, the very little remnants of the fight of his self-blame tearing apart at last. It must be as enjoyable for you because once you settle in and you take in the heat, the effect of the candle, the dimmed light and the soft shower of rain pittering against the windows, you let loose completely, your head slack against his sternum, breathing steadily, eyes fluttering closed. Jungkook wraps his arms around you, your breasts pressed against them, and he loves the feeling of your raw femininity in his hands, in such a nonsexual context. His arousal might be alive and longing for you, but that feeling, somehow, overweighs it in a way he’s unable to understand.

He doesn’t mind; he could stay like this.

And both of you do for some time, feeling each other’s top halves of bodies, resting, thinking of nothing, until you tip your chin and, puckering your lips, you ask for a kiss. Arch your back until your breasts bounce free from his hold. His cock twitches against your back from the sight and you smirk.

Sly little girl. He cages them once again, though this time quite differently. One hand grabs the flesh at the base, the other sneaks to your chin, your other breast nudged in the crook of his elbow. His finger traces the lines of your lips, flattened now, kissing it every once in a while. And as if it was a signal for you to open up when he stalls his movement in the middle, you open up for him. And the feeling of your tongue, the suction of your lips, the sound of it all—it drives him to head down the path of absolute madness.

He might have just found his ultimate weakness.

Jungkook adds a second finger in, when you angle your body, so he can have a good view of it, your head propped against the bathtub wall, lidded eyes fixed on him.

So much for relaxing. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, swiftly, causing your brows to knit in confusion. It humors him, but you’re not getting your way that easily.

“You should relax,” he scolds in a teasing manner, not meaning a word of it. “You’ve had a long day of shopping.”

You laugh through your nose, a soft smile gracing your lips and for a split second, Jungkook wonders if he didn’t ruin the moment again by altering the reality again, bringing back the memory of what’s happened. If he didn’t invite in your guilt, perhaps. You’re here with him, about to be made love to, while the person you still love is dealing with brokenness on the other side of the city.

And he tells you in the form of a kiss sunk into your cheek, drawing your body closer to him, cradling the back of your neck, squishing you against him. It causes you to turn your body to the side, slightly, and Jungkook hikes you higher, letting you lean your face against his cheek like that, pecking you over and over again. There isn’t enough body of water to overspill from the tub, but your shifting caused small waves to lap at your body and Jungkook finds himself transfixed by the sight of it. It seems as though the ripples are worshiping your body and an inkling to do the same, to do better, rises in him—as well as the impulse to tell you with words this time.

He should verbally communicate with you. Just to be safe.

“Did I remind you of it again?”

Your fingertips follow the valleys of his abdomen, half dipped in the water.

“Remind me of what?” you say and there’s a striking gentleness to your voice, some kind of blissfulness that feels terribly foreign to him. “Of my freedom?”

A bearable tightness clutches his chest, interlaced, most heartily, with the simplicity of his shock. Freedom. With his directions, you set yourself free. It should be something to perhaps honor and rejoice over—so why is there still a morsel of pity swarming in him? He needs you to tell him.

A streamlet of tears blurs his vision. Because his clinginess to you intensifies with each move forward, for the most part. Because he feels bad for his friend, for the lesser.

“Why do I feel so bad for him?” Jungkook questions, pressing you harder against him until there isn’t any more space to push you into.

You plop your body onto his. Chest to chest. Tummy to tummy. His cock, a bit soft now, against your femininity. Nonsexually, in all its beauty. You drag your thumbs under his waterline, collecting his essence of pain. His heart constricts.

“My freedom is his,” you say, still holding him like that—both palms on his cheeks. “We’d be stuck in a circle like this. We’d go round and round until one of us would burst and end things eventually. He’d never fully heal in this environment. He’d never look past his own insecurities, not when I’d continue to enjoy myself with you the way I always did.”

He thinks the merry go round had already begun the moment he and Yoongi made up and tried again. And considering the last thing he said to him on the phone today, there’s nothing left to do but to accept it.

Your freedom is his. Those words ring in his headspace, settling there. By unbuckling yourself from the seat of that ride, you did the same for him. And while you got off, Yoongi still remains seated.

For now.

He’ll get out of there. Jungkook believes in him.

“I’m meant to be with you,” you say and his heart goes wild, violently, under your forearm. For you. You’ve said it. You’ve made it official. Brought it into this new reality and Jungkook could weep again—and he does. Touched by his emotions, you kiss his tears, sighing against them. “I’m yours, Jungkook. Have been the moment I looked into your eyes the very first time.”

Your bare, boundless truth drives him to reveal his, too. Such power you have, such strength.

“You know I have feelings for you, right?” he murmurs, an allusion to the way you wept together in the dressing room, brushing your hair back, feeling his tenderness radiating off of his eyes, immensely. How easy it is, to tell you something groundbreaking like that, even as absurdly as he did. “Don’t let go of me. Don’t let go of those feelings. Keep them safe.”

Your own tears pool in your waterline and you nod, a smile glinting upon your lips. So you knew, felt the love like he did, enkindled by your mutual release. He wasn’t wrong. His heart pounds and for the first time upon this trajectory, this doesn’t feel unreal. It feels real. Alive, possible, full of life.

“I do, too. Held them in for so long. Never admitted it to myself for his sake. But that’s over now. I’ll keep it safe. All of you, Jungkook.”

You love him.

His sobs gather in his sternum, his lungs too small to capture them in place.

You love him. And it’s real.

Gripping your hair, he kisses you, deeply. And both streams of tears turn into one river—and both of you can’t halt the hunger creeping in. The hunger for more, for your love to burst at last and absorb your reality. Tongues mingling, tasting something new. Teeth clashing, lips tingling. Breaths hard and ragged. Jungkook can’t take it. Can’t hold back his body from lifting off of the rounded wall of the tub, the water sloshing and splashing all around.

And then you say something that grazes his madness ever so unmercifully.

“Put it in.”

He groans, biting your bottom lip, fingertips making dents on your small waist. Horny girl, asking for something you can’t handle. He swears, his arousal awakening yet again in full speed, taking over him wholly. “I haven’t stretched you out yet.”

You grind your femininity against his tightening cock and he’s done for, feeling your pulse. “Stretch me out like this.”

He squeezes your ass hard, making you moan onto his mouth, in effort to make you listen to him and submit to his better knowing. “It’ll hurt, sweetheart.”

Your breath wafts over him as you close your lips over his, sucking. “I can take it.”

Such a stark contrast to the words you uttered in the dressing room. His madness heightens. So much that he moans into your lip lock, dipping you in the water to make you laugh, clutching onto him as you yelp, your adorable laughter vibrating through the bathroom, bouncing off of the walls and sneaking, in the long run, into the chambers of his heart, coming to live there.

This is happiness.

And the vibrations are too, too much for him to handle. So unusual, so beautiful.

“Hold onto me,” Jungkook commands as he wraps your legs around his torso tighter and rises, stepping out of the bathtub and reaching for a towel in his cabinet while his other hand holds you steady by his forearm under your bum like a child.

Leaving you to your own strength for a second, he wraps the large fabric around you both, bunching the ends in his fist on your back, exiting out of the bathroom and laying you down onto his bed. Your hair sprawls on his bedding and he thinks you look like an angel, maddened just the same by something beyond lust, by something way purer. He kisses your lips, fleetingly, and begins to focus on your neck, unfurling his love there. He sucks your wet skin, licking it all over, scattering his hard kisses there—the ones that drive you wild, moaning loudly and bravely, deservingly so. And he marks this victorious day there with pretty, pretty colors of red and purple. Doesn’t stop. Not until you beg him, writhing underneath him, excited and eager.

“Please, Jungkook, take me.”

Such sweet, innocent words. He listens, cooing, dragging you further up on the bed, so he can lie on top of you and take his hard kisses further down, marking all the places where your invisible tattoos are, bringing them to life all over again. Above both of your nipples, especially on the right one, where that frilly rose was, covering the peak. And he feels you melt, feels you soak his lower abdomen when he sucks on that nub, flicking his tongue, making you cry out so beautifully, so desperately that his arousal for you rigidifies. And when he looks at his artwork, fists propped on either side of you like his knees, it steals all of his breath.

“You look so beautiful like this. All mine.”

All his, wet with the last drops of water, with the pearls of his saliva, with your essence coating your folds. Adorned with red tattoos. He has his own on his arm and hand, except on his chest and he thinks the one he gave you make up for it. Thinks they’re his as much as they’re yours and it causes his length to twitch against his stomach, so terribly needy for you.

“And you look beautiful like this. All hard for me,” you mimic his words and he grows feral, even more so when you continue. “It’s all mine, isn’t it?” You take him into your hand again, but he pins both of your wrists down, above your head. And the smile you grace him with—it makes him yearn to make love to you like this. Bound, while the rest of you would remain the quite opposite.

He growls, kissing you. “All yours. All yours for you to take and come around. All yours, my sweetheart. Always has been.” He kisses you harder and you whimper. Pulls away just to swirl his tongue around yours, open mouth and all, before closing his lips down again in a profound, warm and homely lock. “Spread your legs for me. I’m gonna get you ready for it.”

He does it himself, folding you in half, the glistening of your folds visible even in the slight lack of light in the room. Oh, he can’t have you like this. Reaching behind himself, he turns on his bedside lamp, bathing you in a soft, yellow light that suits you the most. You’re holding your legs apart for him and he places wet kisses on the back of your thigh, ravagedly, to reward you for it, trailing them down until he’s face to face with your drenched princess parts. And it’s a groan of relief that emits out of him when he’s this close to you, hands pushing your knees down, spreading you even more to gratify his hunger.

He’s starving. Terribly starving.

And he rolls his eyes back when he takes the entirety of you into his mouth, tongue dragging upon your slit, up and down, drinking your dew, penetrating only a little bit just to tease you, just to mess around with your madness. And when he flattens his tongue against your swollen clit, you cry out. Surprise him when you grip his hair, enough to cause him to flick his eyes to you. Your mouth is parted, but grinning nonetheless, your own eyes heavily lidded, emitting light and joy and Jungkook simply decides to make this experience better for you.

He lifts your hips in the air and devours you, lapping at your clit over and over again, letting you see what he’s doing to you without taking his eyes off of you, nose pressed against your shiny mound. You whisper your vulgarities and he’d let it pass if he didn’t consider this a holy, spiritual occurrence. He withdraws and it doesn’t go unnoticed by him, the way your slick trickles down your clit and your mound, rooting in the squishy part of your lower tummy. He hums, delighting in the sight.

“Be good,” he scolds, smiling down at you and your grin widens. You nod your head, your hands still crossed above you without his to hold them down. Scratch his words—you’re already the best girl. He licks up the trickle of your essence trailing down your clit, making you writhe again. “Feel how wet you are for me.”

Carefully, you skim your palm down your soaked belly, gasping, until your fingers reach your nub, the concoction of his saliva and your arousal seeping into your skin. He encourages you with noises of approval to keep going, bending you even more in half, your back leaning against his thighs, the pads of your fingers circling your center, eyes wide at the discovery, able to see just how celestially aroused you are for him. So beautiful. He bites onto the flesh upon the side of your thigh, only because he can’t help it, soothing down the sting with his tongue. And he hums at the sound of your moans, at the sound of your slipperiness when you drag your fingers down to your clit and stop there.

“Hm, yes, sweetheart, rub that pretty clit for me,” he murmurs and his chest explodes at the principle that he’s able to say that to you. That he doesn’t need anyone’s permission or approval. That he can do whatever he pleases with you without any consequences to reap. That he’s free. You must be thinking about this, too, but in a different way, because you hesitate. He’ll destroy that dubiety. It won’t show its face again—as long as he lives on this earth. “You can do it, my love. You’re free.”

The reassurance washes over you and rids you of that fleeting negativity. He understands this is new for the both of you—there’s some still getting used to, so it’s completely normal. He’ll try his hardest to make this as much of an easy ride for you as he can. It’s his duty.

“Don’t be afraid,” he continues, adding your name, softly. “You’re here with me and you’re safe.”

Jungkook leans over and kisses you. You nod into the kiss and he returns to his position, catching you rubbing your clit, slowly, with two fingers, the other spread on your folds. And both of you moan simultaneously.

“That’s it,” he whispers, enthralled, making way for the sound of your slick to overpower the atmosphere. “That’s my good girl. Make yourself feel good for me.”

You whimper his name, buckling your hips in his hold, squeezing your eyes shut and Jungkook can see the waves of pressure charging your tender body. Now is the time for his participation.

He sinks his middle finger inside, making your eyes pop open and stare him down, just for you to submerge yourself under the surface of that sea of lust and let your irises whisk back. Your walls clench around him and he waits until you speed up your circles to join his other finger, biting his lip to push back his desire to sink himself inside you. He tries to pay little attention to the way he drips for you.

But then you use the rest of your fingers to bring yourself to your climax and Jungkook takes it as a sign. Another finger in, he curls them, fucking you the way you like. Fast, grazing your sweet little spot that beckons your sweat out of your pores and when your pussy drools even more for him, he adds another. You gasp and he knows exactly how you’re feeling, how good this is for you.

“You feel so full, sweetheart, don’t you?” he coos, jackhammering his hand harder and you drench it, completely. He flattens his fingers, allowing you to see the thick sheen and you mewl, a litany of his name spilling along. “You’re so wet. So horny for me, aren’t you? You’re gonna come?”

You scream your agreement, squirming, strumming your fingers harder and this is it for him. He changes direction. Fucks his fingers up and down and your toes curl, chest heaving heavily and you just keep on screaming. A delightful sound.

“Come for me, then. Like the best girl you are.”

You clench around him. So much that he can barely move his fingers, sunk in so deeply. He just flexes them, drawing out your orgasm and you give it to him.

And you’re wet all over again. Sprinkled by pearls upon pearls of your pleasure. He is, too, and it worsens his desperation for you.

You’re panting, but he’s not done with you. Setting you down, he laps up the violent evidence of your orgasm, making you twitch in overstimulation and he eases the pressure of his tongue for you. Sucking on your folds, he decides to mark you there. Just below your hip bone, too. Such intimate places. Perfect for a temporary keepsake like this.

Hovering above you, he circles his tongue tinged with your taste around yours, forcing you to moan again. And he kisses you softly. “You deserved that orgasm.”

You whine, red all over, and Jungkook understands you need more. He pulls away, clutches himself to line up at your entrance, but you stop him.

“I want you.”

He smirks, longs to hear you be more specific. “How?”

You huff. So adorable. “In my mouth.”

He chuckles. Should’ve asked where, but he’s at your service—he’s willing to give you anything you want. “All right, but just for a little bit, okay?” You nod, vehemently, and he pats your cheek. “On your knees.”

Oh, he’ll never tire of the view of your submissiveness, of your hunger for such a private part of him. He makes a mess for you on the towel, dripping more than he ever has, and he holds himself at the base, grabbing your jaw in his hand. Brutality, the one he’s obsessed with, swims past your irises when you gaze up at him. A feral animal, an angel in hiding—he’d love to embellish you with the sticky traces of his fixation, but he shouldn’t, no matter how much he craves it. He can’t stain you, not today. Can’t ruin the holiness. He’ll let you play with him before he seals it for all eternity.

Tomorrow he will. Smear you with it until it’s all your pores know.

Jungkook traces the lines of your mouth with the tip of his length, just like he did with his finger in the bathtub, and you hum, liking it. He can vividly see your yearning to rub your face against him again and he lets you, encourages you in fact, pulling you closer until you nuzzle your nose against his girth, his skin caressing your cheek, and you kiss him all over. Place your hands over his and suck him inside your mouth, drinking his precum. Only to withdraw right away, sit back on your legs without lifting your hands, and look up at him with the vastness of your overbearing innocence and love.

“You’re mine,” you purr, fucking him with your fist.

Jungkook nods, just once. Doesn’t even feel his butterflies anymore, too numbed by you, by the pleasure you’re giving him. “That’s right, my love.”

You suck in a breath, biting your lip hard as if it took all of your energy not to make him come at this very instant. And you lengthen your spine, asking for a kiss again, and he bends at the waist, kissing you nastily, pushing your head back to his cock, inciting you to do what you truly crave to.

And you take him so well, your cheeks hollow, and he’s unabashed, free to let out his male noises, whimpering for you, panting heavily as you bob your head, slurping him, spitting on him. You toy with his tip, tugging at his length, colliding into his fist and it isn’t until you rub your face against his balls that it becomes his undoing. He stalls his orgasm, strains to do so, just to please you and he pries your hands away from his length, lets you focus on his sack. The least he could do to last. But then you grab it into your fist, sucking his balls, one by one, into your mouth, even try to take both of them at once and that’s it. He can’t breathe, his heart wringing painfully with all the love that brims in him for you. No one has ever done that to him.

You flick your tongue against them, your other hand wrapping around his tip again, tugging and he nears dangerously close to the bursting of his orgasm.

“That’s enough.”

He draws you away from his cock, using all of his strength, and pins you down. A splutter of your giggles waft in the air, your chin wet with your spit and he moves his mouth so rapidly against yours that you struggle to kiss him back, growing calm all of a sudden, as if overcome with the gravity of it all.

He looks at you for a long while. Puffy, red mouth, that he craves to bite onto—and he does. Darkened eyes, full of freedom and exhilaration. Neck, chest, tummy and the rest of the delicious parts of you scattered with hickeys, with his own personal keepsakes. He loves you so much that he becomes frustrated, needing to let it out somehow. All of his muscles tense and he clenches his grip on your wrists.

“You want me to die? Is that what you want?” he hisses, speaking of the sloppy blowjob you gave him, gliding his wet cock across your seashell. You lose a breath, drowsy eyes fluttering, spreading your legs for him. No wonder you’re tired—you gave it your all. He sinks his teeth hard into his bottom lip, his frustration rising, brows knitted. “You can’t play with me like that. I was seconds away from coming all over your pretty face.”

“I wanted you to,” you say, loud and clear, and Jungkook is hot all over.

Turning you over to your side, he squeezes the flesh of your bum until it hurts as a punishment, knowing you’re not ready for the full thing. It’s too soon. Your wincing breaks into a low, alluring moan and it fills him with adrenaline. And then you smile at him, light flashing in your countenance. You’re anything but punished; you’re pleased.

Looks like you need another form of punishment.

Fuck it, fuck all spiritual aspects of this. The angels in heaven need to look away for now and cover their ears. He’s going to make love to you in a way they’ve never witnessed before and it’s good that they never will.

“What did you say?” Jungkook feignedly questions, pinning you back down and burying himself in your heat. Having stretched you out well enough, he gives you his half right away, but he doesn’t stop there, not when you lift your chest off of the mattress, not when you lose yourself in the sudden fullness and the music of your mutual moans. You grip him so tight that he forgets, for a split moment, what he’s punishing you for.

You stammer, seemingly forgetting, too. And when his mound kisses yours, your words falter altogether—a crescendo into silence. Eyes wide, unblinking, taking him most courageously. Jungkook hums, immensely proud of you, slowly pounding you into the mattress with hard strokes.

And when he gives you a particularly unmerciful one, you scream, shaking all over in his hands.

“Yes, sweetheart, that’s what you get,” he purrs, grinding his hips, loving the way he toys with your senses, your peaked nubs digging into his chest, and you can’t catch your breath, your whole body tense. “Too deep?”

You nod. “Too deep, baby, I can’t take it, fuck. It’s too much.”

Cooing, he kisses you. The pet name, your tightness—he’s losing his mind and it’s your fault. Your wonderful, wonderful fault. You don’t even let him pull out, you keep him caged in, your walls fluttering against him and he whimpers, shaking like you, unable to continue kissing you.

“Relax, my love, or you’re really gonna kill me,” he croaks out, ascending to heavenly places where they don’t, in most certainty, don’t want to see him. Sitting back on his feet, he thumbs your clit, helping you calm down. “Good girl. Feels good, stuffed full like this? My thumb rubbing your sweet little clit, hm?”

It is a miracle, the way he knows your body and knows what to do with it because your walls loosen, enabling him to fuck you, sloppily, your slick squeaking along with your quickening breaths. You scream out your yeses, driving him to give you his all.

“Just like that,” he whispers, approving, his balls tightening already, the pressure in his lower tummy becoming bigger.

You deserve the full thing, though. Jungkook places your knee on his shoulder. And with each stroke, his mound stimulates your clit, getting you nice and fast to his level.

He cradles your blissed-out face, the heel of his palm putting pressure on your throat. And onto that expression of elation, he uncoils his love for you, brutally fucking you until your whole body ripples beneath him.

“Whose are you, huh?” he moans, driving into you, rearranging your guts. Sweat drips off of his forehead. “Whose pretty girl are you?”

Your own sounds of pleasure rise in pitch and volume and he senses, he knows you’re about to come for him.

“Yours, Jungkook, yours,” you choke out and he’s so proud of you that he hums, his balls slapping against your bum, and he kisses you, giving you his tongue. You suck on it, getting him right there to the edge of his orgasm.

“Fuck, such a good girl. All mine. You know that I love you, right?”

And the once reappearing absurdity of his choice of words pushes over that edge and you squeeze him, squeeze him hard, milking his cum out of you and he growls into your mouth. You take over each and every one of his senses, making them yours, and he fucks his cum into you, his mouth smacking against yours, as you whisper your I love you’s and he swallows them down.

Heaven or something beyond. You created it and he wants to spend the rest of his life there.

Panting, he kisses your jaw, marking you there for the last time. Unbelief grasping him that he finds himself in such a place glazed with love. “You love me?”

You whimper, shuddering all over, your orgasm still seizing you. “I love you so fucking much.”

He licks into your mouth, ending your release. “My best girl. I’ll take care of you. I’ll never let you go. You’re never getting out of my sight again.”

Jungkook lets go of your wrists. They must be cramping, tingling and he massages them in the air, sitting back, his length still inside your homely heat. Your eyes wet again, sobs break out of your mouth and he shushes you most affectionately, his heart twinging. He lifts you and sits you down on his lap, hugging you close to his chest. Skin to skin. You cling to him with everything in you and he holds you together, so you don’t fall apart.

“You’re my savior. My healer,” you wail, gripping his hair. As if your breaking wasn’t enough, your words hit him hard and his vision soaks along with yours. You’ve never told him that before—never told him the roles he has in your life. He appreciates them so much, holds them dear to his heart. Never wants to forget them. “Don’t ever leave me, please. I beg you.”

It’s him who now breaks. Right there on your shoulder, beneath the waterfall of your hair.

“I could never. You’re my life. You’re my everything. How could I ever leave you?”

You sob harder, lifting your head, and the sight of your rawness makes him fall even more in love with you. Jungkook smooths down your hair and wipes away your tears. Kisses you, deeply, and lingers there. And along with the kiss, you and him exchange your last I love you’s for the night.

Tub drained, candle snuffed out, cheese balls devoured, the rain finishing like that chapter of your life—Jungkook feels himself entering a brand new one with you, one where Yoongi isn’t present, as he dresses you in his clothes. For panties, he slinks your legs into his boxers, keeping them warm with a pair of his own joggers. Then, he tugs his hoodie down your head, pushing your arms through the sleeves. Smirks at the way his clothes fit you well. As if they were your own. At the way he matches with you.

He overflows with a thrumming life.

A brand new chapter filled with myriads of different, ecstatic possibilities. And you seal them to completion, when tucked in bed, lying on his chest, you sleepily utter the first prospect that you want to bring to life.

“Will you take me to your cabin tomorrow?”

His breath hitches in his throat. He never thought he’d be returning there so soon, especially not with you. His mouth quirks up, body suffused with a foreign excitement, and right away he deduces the reason why you want to go there.

“You really want that dildo, don’t you?”

You merely laugh through your nose.

Oh, he’s calling in sick tomorrow. Will take you there first thing in the morning. Will do absolutely anything for you.

“I’ll fuck you hard with it until you completely drench it, then. Sleep for now, so we can get to tomorrow.”

You kiss his clothed chest. Nuzzle your face in it. Whisper your thank you. Jungkook pretends he didn’t just get hard all over again.

“Good night,” you say.

He pecks your hair. “Good night, sweetheart.”

BACK to masterlist

#jungkook x oc #yoongi smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fluff #btscreatorscorner #kpop smut #jungkook one shot #yoongi x oc #yoongi x reader #yoongi imagine

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venusiangguk · 1 year

Text

the art of trying | jjk (m)

>>pairing: jungkook x reader / dilf!jk x grocery store clerk!oc

>>genre: friends with benefits, smut, angst

>>word count: 29.3k 😁

>>warnings: dom jk, sub oc, age gap, oc club era 🪩🥂, oc heart to heart with…, enter mr park seojoon !!, budding friendships 🥰, mending of relationships, enter dilf !!, reconciliation finally, but still we yearn, and jk is still a little stewpid, however!! he is doing his best!!, mostly oc pov i think, warning for a little bit of sad bc she is sad !!, but not too sad 😼, enter jock !!, dilf jk stuff: asking for permission, saying thank u, etc., fore play in the form of a lil dry humping 🫶🏻, finishes (multiple),, oral (m & f), dirty talk, lovesick gross smitteness 👎🏻, jreampie 👍🏻, and finally, enter nari !! (🧋)

>>notes: finally am i right 🤣

this is part of my dilf jk series that can be found on my masterlist

>>summary: you’re trying to forget jungkook, but he’s trying to make sure you remember why you shouldn’t.

It’s the middle of January and I haven’t learned to be okay without you, yet. The wind outside is harsh and cold. It hurts my feelings sometimes.

It reminds me of you, sometimes, too.

I still miss you.

“Girl, what does that even mean?”

Your laptop gets slammed shut, and you whip your head around to see Binna. Your very best friend that has been caught red-handed, reading over your shoulder.

“Do you mind?” you say with narrowed eyes.

“I do actually,” she says, walking around the couch and plopping next to you.

You roll your eyes and rephrase with something she’s hopefully less likely to have an answer to. “Can I help you?”

Binna looks stumped for approximately .4 seconds –not nearly long enough to be satisfying– and then she’s saying, “No, but you can help yourself. Please go to therapy. I am begging you and also I will pay for it.”

“Die.”

“C’mon, you’ve been sad for like almost 2 months,” she groans, “and it’s like… tangible, ___. I walk into the house and I can feel it. It just permeates the air and– look, it even killed the plant.”

Binna’s pointed finger guides your gaze to the small succulent on the windowsill and it’s a bit pathetic how your eyes start to tear up because it is in fact, the tiny succulent Jeongguk gave you so many months ago. You had done a good job of taking care of it for a while, his occasional texts reminding you to water it had been helpful. But lately you haven’t even really been taking care of yourself, and the little plant has, unfortunately, become collateral damage.

You also don’t get those texts anymore.

With big watery eyes and a fat bottom lip, you turn back to her and she sighs. Grabs the remote and pauses whatever is playing on the tv. This makes Jade squawk, something about her watching it and it being the best part but Binna is having none of it.

“No, this is actually dire. She’s crying over the plant, Jade. We have to intervene, it’s time.”

Jade pouts for a moment, looking between the tv and you as if she can’t decide which is more pressing. When she crawls from her place where she was laying on the floor to your feet, it seems her decision is made. She rests her chin on your knee.

“Still sad over the dilf?” she asks.

You nod pitifully.

“She was openly writing melancholy about him… it's a public cry for help,” Binna adds.

With a nod of understanding, Jade says, “Writing can be a good way to get your thoughts together and work through them.”

Choosing not to tell them that you don’t think you’ll ever be able to work through all the thoughts because there are just too many and it hurts too bad, you stay quiet.

It’s not an awkward silence that takes over the living room, but you can tell that Binna and Jade are trying to think of something to say. Jade ends up being the one to interrupt the quiet.

“Has he reached out to you at all?”

The unanswered text on your phone started as a temptation, but it’s ended as a little memo that helps put things into perspective.

Did you get home okay?

Jeongguk made his decision and he only sent you that text because he let you leave.

He sent you that text after he made it so incredibly clear that he wasn’t going to let you stay in his life.

Despite you telling him you’d think about things, let him know what you decided in regards to you and him– he really didn’t leave much room for you to do that. He’s hard-headed and he’s extreme and when he makes his mind up about something… it’s not likely anyone will be able to change it. Especially if it has to do with Nari.

And it’s not like you don’t get it. You do, to some extent at least.

Nari is his baby and Nari is his priority. Just like she should be. That’s self-explanatory and easy to understand. If Jeongguk felt you being in his life somehow messed with his priorities and decided it wasn’t going to work out between you two after giving it some thought– it wouldn’t have been easy, but you would have accepted it nonetheless.

But part of you believes he didn’t give it much thought at all because one moment he was washing you, taking care of you, kissing you. Making you feel like you were his and he was yours and like he cared. Like he was always going to be there; like he was endless.

Then the next he was telling you it was all basically a mistake to him. That he didn’t know if he had the room or the time for you anymore. Like you were an amenity with a timeframe. Something that was worthwhile, until it wasn’t anymore. Something nice that was momentarily useful, something that perhaps made his life better, easier in a way… but something that ultimately wasn’t necessary.

The turnaround was too abrupt and too abrasive and too rash for you to accept that it wasn’t impulsive. That he truly thought it through. You think that’s what’s hindering you from moving on.

A part of you almost wishes that you could fool yourself into believing he did mull it over. That he simply ‘changed his mind’. Because that’s better than the uncertainty that comes with him cutting you out so heedlessly.

If Jeongguk had a change of heart– it means that, at one point, his heart was sure of you; his heart did want you.

It’s deceiving, but it hurts less than the uncertainty.

The ache that comes with longing for what was is concrete and irrefutable in a bittersweet sense because at least in that case, what you’re yearning for was something that you had; something that was real.

You can’t pinpoint the pain that comes with uncertainty. There’s too much room for doubt, too many times you can mistake a ‘what if’ for a ‘what was’. There are too many ways you can spin the past if you’re not certain of it. Too many different outcomes you can craft. There are too many ways that uncertainty can hurt

Jeongguk’s 180 took place barely within a few hours. Specific changes were instantaneous. Like the quiet unease that shrouded the atmosphere; the quick developing doubt that inevitably tainted both your affections. In all honestly, you could feel the shift as soon as he walked into the playroom after talking to Nari’s mom.

Dasom.

The things you feel when you think about her make you feel so ugly. Like your heart is rotten within your core, ruining you from the inside because it’s so easy to blame her and resent her for everything that occurred. Easy to pin the earth-shattering, tectonic shift in your and Jeongguk’s dynamic on her. It’s easy to hate her for the things she said about you, for the thoughts she put into Jeongguk’s head. But deep inside, right next to your rotten heart, there’s something small that’s telling you it’s easiest to hate her because you aren’t her.

An achy heaviness levels in your gut and you press your eyes shut tightly, consciously making an effort to not tear up. It still hurts so badly. In a way you don’t even really understand. You’re not sure if it stems from jealousy or insecurity or maybe both.

But there is something so excruciatingly painful, something that feels so devastatingly unfair, about Jeongguk and Dasom.

It’s absurd and it’s stupid to let an ex get to you. You know that and you’re aware that it’s the past and that it’s over between them… but when you think about all of the history? It’s enough to overthink and compare. To wonder ‘what if?’, ask yourself ‘why?’ and ‘does he still?’.

Because they loved each other; were in love with each other. They had the sweetest little baby girl together. Dasom will always know Jeongguk in a way that you won’t. She will always know versions of him that you never will. She will always have a part of him and be a part of his life. She will always know him longer than you. No matter what –even if you and Jeongguk had stayed together, fallen in love, and gotten married– she was still there first. In a sense, you won’t ever be able to catch up to her– to them or what they had.

You almost have to laugh at yourself for thinking like that because it’s so pathetically dramatic and pointless. Because yes, letting an ex get to you is both absurd and stupid. But especially so when you let it get to you after months.

Bitterly, you consider that maybe Jeongguk was right. Maybe you were too young for him, and maybe you really weren’t ready for everything that came with him.

When your thoughts are reeled back in, you tell Jade about Jeongguk’s text you never answered.

“God what a whore,” Binna groans. “What kind of person asks that after cutting you out of their life?”

“A man,” Jade reasons.

It makes you chuckle a small laugh, and the silence that settles this time is a little more comfortable. A couple of minutes pass with the three of you pretending to watch Jade’s show when Binna clears her throat.

She tries to keep her voice light and casual, acts as if she’s just making conversation. “You’ve been lurking, no?”

She will be disappointed when you admit that you’ve tried. But she’ll also be pleased to know that you simply can’t.

“He doesn’t have Instagram.” You shrug your shoulders as if it’s not a big deal and like your recently searched isn’t full of accounts that have some variation of Jeongguk’s name in the user.

“He probably has Facebook, he’s old,” Jade says absently, eyes glued to the television once again.

Binna gets a worried look on her face when she can physically see the lightbulb go off in your head. Then her expression shifts into one of tired disapproval. “Thank you for that, Jade.”

Jade’s reply is simply a preoccupied, half-hearted ‘My bad’.

But you do not care and your phone is already out.

You’re trying to move on, you are. Truly. One peek won’t hurt. Also–

“He’s not old, he’s only 29,” you say distractedly, waiting for the app to download before the phone is promptly plucked from your hands. “Hey–”

“Give me that,” Binna interrupts, “If you look him up, you will come up in his ‘people you may know’. I don’t want that for you, and you don’t want that for you. Trust me.”

With a frowny pout on your face, you settle back into that couch. “Well… I don’t want you coming up in whatever that is either, right?”

“You do not need to worry about that because I am a professional and I am crazy. What’s his last name again?”

Professional and crazy sound like adjectives that are not supposed to go together, but you don’t argue and when she pulls out her own phone, you answer her.

Binna’s sleuthing seems to be entertaining enough for Jade to abandon her show, moving from her place at your feet to a seat next to Binna looking over her shoulder. Nervousness keeps you from joining, quietly just waiting for the few moments it takes for Binna to find what she’s looking for.

“Ah! Jeon Jeongguk, 30, C–” she gasps, eyes wide as she looks at you, “you didn’t tell us he was a CEO!”

You shrug. “Didn’t seem important. And I told you already, he’s 29. Not 30.”

Binna’s brows furrow before she’s looking at her phone again, bringing it close to her face and using her thumbs to zoom in on the profile picture. “Is this not him?”

“No, that’s him,” Jade confirms, face close to Binna’s. “I’ve seen enough pictures of him in the groupchat that I also see him in my dreams.”

“Please don’t dream about him,” you say musingly, reaching to snatch the phone from Binna just like she did to you.

It is in fact your Jeon Jeongguk pictured on the phone. His profile picture is candid, him smiling wide with those puffs under his eyes, probably mid-laugh. But it still seems professional enough, he’s in one of his many expensive suits, with his tie on, and his hair done sleek.

And you can feel how a small, sad smile comes to rest on your lips. You carefully click on the picture to see when it was posted.

Just a couple of weeks ago.

And the small, sad smile gets even smaller and even sadder. He looks happy enough, and you hope he is. But it stings a little for some reason.

Then you remember why you pilfered the phone in the first place.

Looking over his profile, you see the basic information. His alumn, his job, his hometown. You click the ‘about info’ option below all of that and it’s then that you see his birthday, and that his age is indeed 30. And you feel silly, a little embarrassed, for not knowing. Or maybe forgetting?

Though, you’re almost positive you didn’t forget. That you wouldn’t have forgotten something like his birthday. That you couldn’t have because Jeongguk was your favorite person.

You trade Binna her phone back for yours.

The photos in your camera roll on his alleged birthday are from what you thought was a random day that Jeongguk asked you to come over.

It was kinda spontaneous for him. Considering he was someone that usually liked to plan, getting a random phone call from him while you were still at work was out of character. He simply asked if you wanted to come over. Just laze around with him, watch a movie, or something. Stay the night, maybe. He sounded slightly boyish when he asked, like he was trying to mask the hopeful excitement in his voice. You told him yes, of course, but that you wouldn’t be able to come until after work.

When you showed up at his, still clad in your work uniform, he was beaming. You barely made it through the door before he was literally giving you the shirt off his back to change into, helping you out of your polo and khakis.

In the photo you’re looking at, your head is in Jeongguk’s lap and he’s shirtless looking at the tv with his hand over your mouth. You had been purposefully asking too many questions, just like you always did. The picture was taken from below so the angle is a little funny.

And even though you’re smiling at the memory, the image turns blurry as you start to tear up. Something about it warms your heart while simultaneously breaking it.

Apparently, he didn’t want gifts, or anything extravagant. Seeing as he omitted telling you it was the one day of the year that everything was supposed to be about him, the one day he was supposed to be doted on. Jeongguk just wanted to be with you. Just your company was enough for him. Just you were enough for him.

“He never told me it was his birthday, but he asked me to come over,” you tell your friends, with your thumb swiping through the many pictures you took that day. “Like me just being there was a good enough birthday present or something?”

Jade can hear the waver in your voice, and she gently says, “Maybe we shouldn’t look at old pics if it’s going to make us sad, hmm?”

“Maybe we should delete them, hmm?” Binna chirps.

You hear them but you continue till you get through the whole night and the next morning. The tears are so heavy in your eyes, but you try to laugh, dabbing at your waterline with your sleeve when you say, “I like– really miss him, guys,” before you end up just covering your face with your palms and letting yourself have your moment.

Jade coos, scooching closer to you, pulling you to her side. She rubs your shoulder soothingly. “I know you do, ___,” she says quietly.

Your roommate has really come a long way since the first conversation you had with her about Jeongguk. The other roommate, however, seems like she is regressing.

“We have got to get you out of the house and onto another dick. Your vibrator is tired and your pillow probably smells like the ocean because of all the tears it’s soaked up. It probably needs a wash, too.”

“Binna!” Jade scolds.

“No, like I’m so serious right now,” Binna defends, “I understand being sad over a breakup, but it’s been months. And over a grown man who lets his literal ex-wife, whom he divorced, still have such a pull on him? Like c’mon. What the fuck is that?”

“She’s allowed to be sad! And those things you listed make her sadness even more warranted. You were holed up in your room for months too, at one point,” Jade reminds, “But it was over a boyband breaking up.”

“In hindsight, it was very good for Zayn to leave,” Binna amends before giving you her attention. “Listen I get it, but I just want you to be happy again… You know?”

When you peek up at her with a sniffle, she looks sad.

“I don’t want you to get stuck in the sad and the hurt, ___,” she says quietly, “because sometimes when people get stuck in the sad and in the hurt, they can’t like– get unstuck. You know? Nothing gets better. The depression just swallows them and they don’t ever feel better and– I want you to feel better.”

Binna’s not the most eloquent, but she has the biggest heart. And you know she means well, and despite how stuck in the sad and the hurt you truly are, you know that she does have a point.

You have to brood over it for a moment, and you kind of feel like you’re outside of your body when you agree. Like you’re hearing someone else say, “Okay, where are we going?”

~~~

The club lights are too bright and strobing too fast, just asking for someone to seize. Your feet hurt because the heels you’re wearing are too high. You figured the weeks following New Year’s would be less crowded, that everyone would be recovering from blackouts and bad decisions. The sheer number of people around you tells you otherwise. You’re not having a good time.

When you tell your roommates as much, their response is handing you a shot. A few shots.

And since alcohol is essentially magic, with every shot glass that is emptied down your throat, the night grows more enjoyable and less likely to be remembered. The lights turn pretty, and the ache in your feet becomes dull and muted, just like the one in your heart.

You’re dancing how a person who doesn’t know how to would. Hips swaying, arms occasionally going above your head before slinking back down and over your body. The bass in the club makes it feel like everything is vibrating and it makes you laugh dumbly, eyes squeezing shut as you giggle to yourself. You know Binna and Jade are close by, but it feels like you’re in your own little world.

“I feel good,” you yell over the music to no one in particular. Eyes still closed, a loose-lipped smile lingering at the corners of your mouth.

The warmth of a body can be felt behind you, though it’s not quite pressing against you yet. It doesn’t feel bad, and neither do the fingertips ghosting along the curve of your waist. You press into the touch, the heat, a little more. A chiffon chuckle is puffed over the crown of your head. The tentative fingers at your waist get more firm, their grip trying to steady you.

“You look good, too,” the body behind you says, lips brushing the shell of your ear. It makes chills prick at your skin.

You bite your lip to keep from smiling at the sensation, at the words. Your hand goes to cover the bigger one on your waist. You intentionally keep the touch constant when you turn around in their hold. Their palm slides along your body till it’s settling on your lower back just above the swell of your ass.

When you look up, your reply gets caught in your throat.

The owner of the warm body behind you is handsome, strikingly so. Tall, strong. Smile dreamy, and eyes dark. He gives you a soft grin accompanied by an encouraging nod, wanting you to say what you can’t seem to get out.

“Uh–” you sputter with a wince, before clearing your throat, “I– yeah, um… thanks, you too.”

You can’t hear his laugh over the music, but you can tell he’s amused by the way his chest rumbles, and how his eyes curl. The hand at the base of your spine moves to your hip, squeezing gently.

His other hand is moving, too, and your track it till it’s tucking some hair behind your ear. You go still and flush when he leans down to your ear again. “I’m Seo-joon,” he tells you.

Introducing yourself is the automatic reply he gets, and he hums, eyes scanning your face. The hand that tucked your hair trails down your arm until his fingers meet yours. They flirt for a moment before they lace together. His movements seem shy, but they’re actually very calculated. Well practiced. Like he does this a lot. Like he knows exactly how to get what he wants.

The realization sobers you some. Not enough to clear all of the drunken fog in your head, but enough to make you vaguely more alert.

“I think you’re a… a little too good at this for me, Mr. Seo-joon.”

Seo-joon briefly looks surprised, eyes widening like a child who’s been caught in a lie. Then he’s recovering, laughing. “Ah,” he muses, guiding your arms to drape over his shoulders, your hands interlocking behind his neck. His hands do the same around your waist as he pulls you a little closer. “I don’t know, you might be the one that’s too good? Too smart? Read me like an open book.”

There’s a flutter in your tummy that you haven’t felt in months and it’s exciting. Makes you giddy as you blink up at him sluggishly, eyelids heavy.

“Are you not?” you ask him, coquettishly referring to him being easy to read. “Aren’t you here for the usual?”

He looks up like he’s thinking. Then he’s shrugging, like there’s no point in denying the obvious. Crowding your space, cheek brushing yours as he talks into your ear again, he asks, “And why are you here, ___? The usual, as well?”

Seo-joon doesn’t move out of your space like the times he did before, instead pulling you into him a bit more, making your space his space too. Lips brush against the corner of your jaw, just below your ear. Teasing, yet sure.

“I’m here to forget–” Your hand twines into the hair at the nape of his neck when he nips softly at your earlobe, making you gasp quietly, interrupting yourself. “–about someone.”

He lets out a smug sound of understanding. “That’s about as ‘usual’ as it gets, ___,” you hear him say, before he purrs confidently, “Let me help you.”

And when he molds his lips to yours, you expect the kiss to feel as good as the lead-up.

You expect the butterflies in your belly to flutter wildly– not go still. You expect the hands roaming over your body to feel rousing– not misplaced, like they aren’t supposed to be there. When you open your mouth to let him lick inside, you expect it to feel right. But it doesn’t. Sure, it doesn’t feel wrong, necessarily. But it doesn’t feel like it should. He doesn’t feel like he should.

But you want him to. You want Seo-joon to feel right, and you want him to feel good. You want it so badly that you go home with him.

~~~

The cab ride is nothing but a precursor– something that needs to happen but not something that needs to be remembered. It’s just a soft blur that prequels his soft bed, his soft kisses, his soft pets.

Seo-joon is being gentler than he was at the club.

Under the hazy hue of the club lights, the strong hands that tugged at the straps of your dress were confident, cunning, audacious, and assertive. Boldly expectant of the outcome he was so sure he would get.

Under his sheets, those same hands are… not exactly timid, but ginger with their eagerness. Delicate, imploring, coy, and suggestive; tactfully encouraging, rather than expecting, the outcome that he hopes for. The way his hips brush against yours is unhurried and intentional. The crass, dirty movements from before that were careless and unrefined are long gone. Now he’s patient. Grinding into you slowly, deliberate.

However, the change in pace, in the scenery, and in his demeanor– none of it makes the kisses taste any sweeter; none of it makes the touches feel any better; none of it makes anything good enough in the effortless way you long for.

It’s counterintuitive but the lack of ease, paired with the desire for it, just makes you try harder. Redouble your efforts.

You press your lips against his in a kiss that’s harder, dig your nails into his shoulders with a grip that’s harder. When you cant your hips up against his just so– you do it harder. He gets a little harder in his pants, and the thoughts in your head get a little harder to ignore. Faking gets harder and pretending does too.

Seo-joon is smart enough. He’s probably been around enough, too. With experience under his belt, it doesn’t take him long to sense the shift. The way your energy dulls, the slight tension tugging at your frame underneath him. But still, it doesn’t stop him from testing the waters one more time, giving you a few more unsure, assessing kisses.

To no avail.

With furrowed brows, he pulls away. Seo-joon doesn’t look angry, though. Just confused as he braces himself on his forearms, lifting himself just enough to be able to take you in, most of his body weight still resting atop you.

He clears his throat. “You don’t uh– you don’t really… seem to be– into this? Anymore? Into me?”

Your expression probably mirrors his. Confused, and maybe a little lost as you study him. Because he’s handsome. Almost unbelievably so, with his high cheekbones and sharp eyes; his nose and mouth that appear perfectly placed; his smooth, airbrushed skin.

You should be into him. Superficially at the very least.

But you just aren’t because even though he is handsome, flawless even, he’s attractive in a very ordinary, classical way. There doesn’t seem to be anything signature about Seo-joon’s features.

When he smiled at the club, it was idyllic and exactly symmetrical. His cheeks filled out, but just enough. His teeth –a dentist’s dream– were pristine, perfectly proportioned, and all of them just the right size. So white that they were almost beaming in the dim lights.

And even now, when he attempts an uneasy one to shake awkwardness it’s… fine. His plush lips are fine and his straight nose is fine and his even brows are fine and everything about Seo-joon is perfectly fine.

But, to you, he’s not really anything special.

Surface level, Seo-joon’s perfectly fine. But so are so many other perfectly fine, classically beautiful, ordinary men. There’s nothing that sets him apart. No defining characteristics, nothing about Seo-joon that makes him him.

Yet you can’t stop yourself from thinking that even if there were, it wouldn’t matter.

Because you already know what makes someone special to you.

You’re well aware of the distinctive features that make your heart flutter. Like when someone smiles and their bottom lip tugs down just a hint farther on the left side. Or when they get little rounds under their eyes and scrunch their nose when they laugh. When he has things about himself that are slightly imperfect. Like big front teeth or a barely off-center freckle under his bottom lip. Like the deep scar on his cheek that he got from his brother when they were little. Or the faint one by his eyebrow from the piercing he had in college that had to be taken out before it was yanked out by a tiny hand.

The man you’re sharing a bed with could be the most uniquely attractive person on earth and it wouldn’t make a difference. It still wouldn’t make him special– not to you.

He’s not what you want.

You hum when you admit it to yourself.

“I’m not.”

Momentarily, Seo-joon looks taken aback by your seemingly rash rethink, but he takes your drunken bluntness in stride. He gives you a forced smile before he hangs his head in an apologetic bow, shifting from on top of you to lay next to you. “I see, I’m sorry if I assumed or overstepped or made you feel like you had to come home with m–”

Seo-joon sounds guilty, and it surprises you when a hint of guilt starts to bloom in your chest.

“You didn’t!” you interrupt, “I thought I was into you… or like I should be into you…”

His eyebrow quirks and he just looks at you.

“Ah…” you muse awkwardly, scanning the room.

It’s so very bachelor. Dark furniture, a big tv mounted on the wall, a little bar cart off to the side next to the mini fridge that’s kinda big to be called ‘mini’. Nothing personal at all that could tell you anything about him, except the boxers on the floor that tells you he prefers Armani. No hint as to what his goals or his hobbies are.

Perhaps it's a good thing you didn’t sleep with Seo-joon. Guys like him have the most brutal post-nut clarity and you’re not sure you could take another grown man hurting your feelings.

“I just don’t want you to think like– I don’t know? That you did something wrong? Or that you like coerced me into coming h–”

“Wait, I didn’t think that–”

“–I’m the one that should be sorry!” you assure him, “Because I don’t think I actually went out to try and forget someone; I think I was trying to find them?”

A couple of stilted seconds pass.

“In… me?” he asks, like he’s mentally trying to puzzle the pieces together.

“I guess? Maybe replace them with you? Or like… use you… as a placeholder?” You wince helplessly at your choice of words, unable to stop them before they spill out.

Seo-joon’s confusion is replaced by a quick, bright laugh which is followed by a small smile that seems almost pitying.

“You’re still young–”

You physically cannot stop the way you interrupt him with.

“Please shut the fuck up.”

The tired words are spat tartly before you can clench your teeth around them. It’s probably a defense mechanism– you’re not quite sure you can handle another grown man being mean to you, but you’re almost very sure that you can’t handle one lecturing you about how young you are, about how much life you still have left to live, about how your youth makes it difficult to know what you really want, about how–

“Whoa,” he laughs. He’s on his side, his head propped up on his palm. He eyes you for a moment before he tugs the strap of your bra back up, haphazardly covering you again. “Sore spot?”

Pulling his sheets up for good measure, you pout. “He was older.”

Seo-joon makes a noise of understanding. “Older like… older brother’s friends older? Or older like met him at your dad’s work party older?”

Heat floods the rounds of your cheeks and you look anywhere but at the man next to you. No photos in frames. Not even a dvd collection that could tell you what type of movies he likes.

“He’s like– dad old,” you murmur, chancing a glance at Seo-joon only to see him pull a queasy-looking face, and then you’re backtracking to defend yourself. “But only like baby-dad old! Not like– teenager-dad old!”

He looks unconvinced. “How big’s the gap?”

“7 years?” you try.

Seo-joon goes from unconvinced to shocked and then to puzzled. “That’s like… nothing? Probably around our gap too?”

Your hands fly up and you scoff a little as you exasperate, “That’s what I said!”

He joins in and you both laugh in his bed until the giggles putter out into lazy silence. You’re pulling at a little tuft of lint when he hums.

“He told you that you were too young?”

You open your mouth to reply immediately, but then hesitate.

Because your age was part of it. Of course, it was, but was it all of it? Was it the root of it?

“I mean you are; not too young, just… young. But–” Seo-joon grins smugly, giving you a pointed look when he sees you scowl, “–youth isn’t a bad thing. And you’re smart. I meant it when I said that.”

Rolling your eyes, you say, “We literally just met–”

“Yeah, and?” he counters, just for the sake of it because he still doesn’t allow a reply. “We only just met and I could already tell that you were smart. Even though I tried, I knew my… methods wouldn’t work on you. You read me like an open book,” he repeats what he said earlier that night, before speaking slowly like he’s spelling something out for you. “and I’m sure I’m not the only one you’re able to read like that?”

Your scowl intensifies. “What are you getting at?”

“This boy you’re trying to ‘forget’? ‘Find’?” The hand that’s not supporting him comes up and he makes some air quotes. His tone is a little softer, like maybe he’s trying to be gentle. Or maybe he’s just tired of talking to you. You can’t be sure.

“I feel like you’re smart enough to know if the whole thing is worth it or not. How long ago was it?”

“A month or 2… give or take 17 days…” you mumble, avoiding his gaze.

“Okay. But yeah… that’s a good chunk of time…” he says around a quick yawn. Then he hums thoughtfully to himself. “I feel like you could think back and read the situation a bit more clearly now? Like, reassess it to… you know… I don’t know just figure stuff out…”

“‘You know, I don’t know’, ‘Just figure stuff out’, ” you mimic dryly, “That’s all the advice you have to offer me when you’ve lived lifetimes longer than me?”

“Listen, you can’t hate all men because of one man–”

��Yes, I ca–”

“Okay but, you don’t even hate that one man? That’s the whole issue?” Seo-joon interrupts. He lilts his tone up in an inquisitive manner, like he wants you to confirm.

You refuse and choose to reply with petulant silence.

“Exactly. C’mon, use that big, smart brain in that pretty, little head of yours,” he encourages, “Look back and just figure stuff out. It might be hard, but not as hard as you think. I feel like time away from what we think we need or want, always puts things into perspective. Distance makes the heart fonder, or–” He pauses for dramatic effect. “It makes the heart indifferent.”

Not rolling your eyes is a feat, but you manage. “Clearly my heart did not become indifferent if I am laid up with you and still going on about it.”

Seo-joon hums again, carries on some more. But you’re not paying attention because maybe time didn’t put things into perspective, but his words just did.

Distance and time make the heart indifferent.

Jeongguk hasn’t been to your store once since you left his house.

You frown, connecting imaginary dots as a little wrinkle sprouts between your brows. “He hasn’t come to see me since he cut things off.”

Seo-joon pauses mid-sentence, mimes your expression. “Did you expect him to?”

You pause now.

“Um… kinda?” you start. Rolling to your side you copy his position so you can look at him. “I mean, I work at the grocery store he would normally shop at,” you explain, before tacking on, “That’s where we met. He lost his baby and I found her… Or– she found me I guess.”

A small twinge of pain pricks your heart at the mention of Nari. You wonder if she’s talking, or if she’s at least getting closer. If she still doesn’t keep the sock on her left foot, or if she’s grown out of that nerve-wracking yet endearing little habit of hers.

What Dasom said about Nari getting attached comes to mind and you hope the little one is doing well. It hurts a little to think about, but you hope for her sake, that she didn’t get too attached or too sad when you stopped coming around. You hope she forgot you quickly.

“Anyway,” you say, “Guess that means his heart became indifferent.”

Giving a half-hearted shrug with a single shoulder, aiming to come off unbothered. Trying to act indifferent yourself, and like your heart didn’t just drop. You blink a couple of times in an attempt to clear the glassiness you know is cloaking your eyes and offer a weak smile.

Regarding you with a slightly concerned color to his features, Seo-joon chooses to not address the passing mention of a misplaced child or the fact that you’re very close to crying while half-naked in his bed. Decidedly, he says, “I’m not sure if I would call avoidance indifference.”

You sniffle. “Huh?”

His eyes narrow and he looks like he’s debating something internally. Then he sighs. “Listen, I’m not trying to encourage you to wait for him or go back to him. Or like… give you false hope–”

“Gee, thanks–”

“No really,” he stresses, “because that genuinely could be nothing. Men are a bit dense. They do things that may seem calculated, but in actuality, they’re just daft and it didn’t even cross their mind. But in my opinion,” he continues slowly, a bit hesitantly, “Choosing to not go to the grocery store he –I’m assuming– frequented regularly? Right after a breakup?” He sucks a bit of air in through his teeth before he shakes his head. “Yeah, that seems like a very deliberate choice.”

“Like indifference would be more–” he continues before pausing briefly to choose the right words, “I picture indifference as more of– him still going to your work, despite the breakup, because he just doesn’t give a fuck.”

Whatever words you were planning to say get caught in your throat and you cough out a short laugh at Seo-joon’s straightforwardness.

He grins a little. “Right? Because that’s what it is– a lack of interest, lack of concern. Like he just doesn’t care one way or the other about you being there because you’re not important enough for him to be affected by you.”

You know he’s speaking in hypotheticals, but it still sours your expression. Makes your lips pull down at the corners.

“Personally, if I were him and I was truly indifferent, truly unbothered,” he places his hand on his bare chest, “you being there or not being there wouldn’t be significant enough for me to alter my routine.”

Your eyes flit quickly over Seo-joon’s torso. His gesture causes the sheet to fall slightly, pooling at the subtle curve of his waist. There’s a faint warmth flooding your cheeks as you swiftly and intently bring your gaze back up.

You swallow before replying with a simple, “Ah… yes… that makes perfect sense.”

Playfully, Seo-joon scowls at you. “You sure you don’t want to fuck?”

“Yup.”

“It may help–”

“Nope, don’t think it will actually.”

He shrugs, an amused grin still lingering. “Suit yourself–”

“I feel like your post-nut clarity would hurt my feelings and I’m vulnerable right now.”

It’s silent for 1, 2, 3 seconds before Seo-joon’s loud laughter echoes in his room. Failing to keep a straight face, he rolls on his back and rests his head on his pillow as he lets himself laugh to his heart’s content. Then he inhales deeply and scrubs a hand over his face and swipes a finger beneath his bottom lashes; catching his breath and regaining his composure and wiping away the wetness under his eyes.

A few seconds pass before he’s turning his head to look at you with a quiet smile. It feels a bit too tender, too sincere, and too heartfelt, for what was supposed to be a one-night-stand.

“See,” he says softly, “told you you were smart.”

You just look at him, trying to read him like he’s so sure you can. There doesn’t seem to be any ulterior motives, just him being genuinely kind to you because he wants to be. And for some reason that makes your eyes burn.

“If it doesn’t hurt too badly to revisit everything that went on with the boy,” Seo-joon begins, interrupting the light hush that settled between the two of you, “I really feel like you’ll be able to see things clearer; read the situation better. Figure stuff out. And then, things will start to fall into place for you. Everything will start to make a little more sense. You’ll know if you’re wasting your time being hung up on him, and if it’s worth your happiness. You’ll know if looking for him is worth the effort, and you’ll be sure that ‘finding’ him is actually what you want after all.”

You’re definitely going to cry.

“And when I said you were still young, and that your youth wasn’t a bad thing,” he continues, “I meant that if you decide that you do want to look for him, and you do find him again– you still have enough time to try with him again.”

With a wobbly bottom lip, you feel your features slowly morph into a scowl.

It’s self-directed because it’s then that you think about what’s happening and how ridiculous it all seems.

Because why are you on the tail end of being drunk, half-naked in the bed of a grown man who you met just hours ago? Why are you telling him bits and pieces about the person he was supposed to distract you from? The person that caused you the most delicately painful ache that’s been festering for months? Why are letting this man give you advice? Why are you letting him comfort you? And why does it feel like he’s done a better job of it by just listening to you for the last few hours, than friends you’ve had for years?

And why do you feel like you’re going to cry about it?

The self-directed scowl morphs to a Seo-joon-directed glare.

“He’s not a boy,” you begin in a voice that shakes just a hint, arguing just to be difficult, “he’s a man with the cutest baby and he’s 30 now and–” The urge to cry cuts you off and you feel the first tear leak from the corner of your eye.

Seo-joon’s soft, sincere smile turns slightly sad as he tracks the salty drop. “Hey, don’t cry–”

“Shut-up,” you spout, your tone somewhere in between short and like you’re begging him to be quiet because it was him speaking that brought you to this state in the first place.

A short staring contest ensues.

“Also– I bet you would’ve been the worst fucking one-night stand,” you add on for good measure.

Seo-joon’s ability to keep from laughing is impressive. It’s only for a second that an amused smile overtakes his features– a natural reflex he isn’t able to stop. But it’s barely there at all before he’s schooling his features into something that he hopes looks receptive, like he’s taking in what you’re saying, absorbing it like it’s Gospel.

But he’s also a curious motherfucker, and he wants to know why you think that.

“That is baseless and an unfounded assumption,” he defends himself, because he may be receptive, but he is also a damn good one-night stand. “With that being said, please tell me why you feel that way.”

“Because I’m crying! And it’s because of you! You and your making of us bare our fucking souls during pillowtalk! Who does that?!”

It’s huffy and snippy and you both know you’re being mean just for the sake of it.

With lips pressed into a tight, smile-proof line, Seo-joon nods easily; agreeable and understanding.

He knows you’re fragile and that you’re tired– so he chooses not to voice how he considers what you talked about very surface level. How he thinks you may be more hurt and affected by whatever took place between you and this guy than you even realize yet. How he feels like you still have so much to work through, so much to learn.

Seo-joon lets you win and reminds himself that, right now, it’s not his job to help you soothe the things that hurt or fix the things that are broken. Reminds himself that you’re smart enough to figure stuff out on your own.

There’s a brief lull in the conversation that’s not as awkward or tense as it probably should be.

You sniffle. Then you hiccup.

And Seo-joon laughs, loud and brash and fond as he leans towards you. He gives you what feels like a platonic kiss on your forehead.

“Can I get your number?”

~~~

It’s an early Thursday morning in late January and Jeongguk is feeling troubled. Plagued, if you will, as he towels off after his morning shower. Plagued with the ever-growing, ever-evolving urge to check up on you. To see how you’re doing.

Lurking, as Taehyung calls it, doesn’t happen all that often. Jeongguk makes a point to not let himself do it daily. Or even weekly. It was his New Year’s resolution, in fact. That being said, it’s been exactly 12 days since he’s used his friend’s 8-year-old son’s instagram account to see what you’ve been up to.

Typically, he can talk himself out of the sudden notion. Put it off until he forgets, or just doesn’t feel he needs to so badly anymore. Currently, however, he’s blaming his inability to nix the restlessness in his fingertips on the fact that he hasn’t had Nari around to keep him busy. It’s been a long week.

Because Jeonggk’s been doing his best to keep himself from opening your page for what feels like days. Resisting the pesky pull even though he doubts you’ve even posted. Out of the times he’s given in over the last few weeks, he thinks you’ve posted maybe once. And it was just a picture of some clouds at that– vaguely heart-shaped, wispy, white puffs against sky-blue. The caption was just two emojis, the wind-face lady next to the white heart.

So frankly, even though he’s not exactly keen on how strong and itchy the urge to check on you is– he’s also not exactly sure why he’s fighting it. Not when merely scratching it isn’t going to change anything.

After shrugging on his work blazer, Jeongguk admits defeat– his inner demons having won yet again. He resigns to apathetic, easily accepted complacency as he swipes through the pages on his home screen till he gets to the very last one that houses the small, sunset-colored camera app. He figures he should probably just get it over with.

As he touches the application open, Jeongguk reasons that he’s just been putting off the inevitable– that he knows an itch can’t be ignored and that it won’t be quelled until it’s scratched or soothed. Tells himself that a quick peek before heading out for work won’t matter.

As he clicks on the mini magnifying glass at the bottom of the screen, Jeongguk reminds himself of lurking’s insignificance. Thinks back to all the times he’s done it before and how it never made a difference.

As he sorts through the random selection of 8-year-old boy searches till he finds your user in the mix, he reassures himself that checking on you won’t do anything but alleviate the nagging in the back of his head and the tingling in his fingertips.

As he taps your profile, he convinces himself that lurking will be relieving and nothing more.

As Jeongguk sees that you have posted, he realizes that this time, lurking does matter and that he is so very stupid for assuming it would bring him relief.

The picture is blurry, not unlike a handful of others he’s seen on your feed.

But the setting captured is new. The pink-tinted lighting isn’t familiar, and neither is the purple and blue hues. The crowd you captured is much more… abundant than what he’s become accustomed to seeing when he pulls up your page.

Jeongguk scans the photo for just a bit longer and then swipes to the next one in the post. This one is the final stupid nail in the coffin of Jeongguk’s stupid demise. The couple shot glasses grouped together in blurry cheers are all the confirmation he needs to know exactly where you were. His eyes flick to your caption, and then his features pull into a pensive frown with furrowed brows.

BUT FOUR DRINKS IM WASTED !!

Jeongguk taps open the comments.

flickthebinna: you’ve had exactly two (2) shots

ocstagram: i am Wasted !! 🤬

jadedjade: can u let her be wasted and focus on getting our drinks @flickthebinna 🤨

He can’t help but chuckle at your and your friends’ interactions, but as he closes the app he catches himself doing a certain habit of his. The little tick where he tilts his head and juts his jaw out quickly. His telltale sign of irritation.

Irritated with himself, of course. Partly because of the obvious. The spying (from a child’s social media account nonetheless), the moping that he’s been doing for months, the procrastinating and avoiding that’s been going on for almost just as long.

But also because he feels so embarrassingly immature for allowing what he finds out from the spying to affect him so deeply. It seems so very juvenile to get this worked up over an instagram post.

He’s irritated at the emotional rush and the way his hands are shaking. At the way his mind is jumping to conclusions and conjuring up all sorts of sour scenarios. He’s irritated with himself for the way unwarranted jealousy burns in his chest.

The irritation stews; sits in the passenger seat as he makes the drive to work– right next to the sudden instinct to act on a restless whim. The irritation festers; accompanies the worsening impulsive urge that makes it hard to think and ultimately pushes him to make a wrong turn.

The irritation is only sated when he pulls up to a curb and his car comes to a stop.

Jeongguk’s irritated with himself for a lot of things. But mostly because it took him so long to get here.

~~~

He’s not sure why he anticipated you answering the door. Karma wouldn’t be so kind, and he wouldn’t be so lucky. Obviously.

“And why the fuck are you here?” This is how Binna greets him, after taking him in with a groggy, borderline bored stare.

With a wince, Jeongguk tries, “Hi Binna–”

“Don’t you have a job?” she interrupts, the volume of her tone increasing with every word. “Aren’t you so busy? So busy, in fact, that it’s so hard to find the time for–”

He opens his mouth to try and get a word in but stops abruptly. So does Binna when she feels a soft hand on her shoulder, and hears a grumpy ‘Why are you being so loud?’.

Right in front of him, you’re still half-asleep. Drowsily using the sleeve of the oversized sweatshirt you’re wearing to rub over your face tiredly. Seeing as he decided to show up at a little past 8 in the morning.

After a few slow, dreamy blinks, you direct your attention to Jeongguk and he feels like he can’t breathe.

It’s unconscious, how his lips turn up a smidge when he really sees you for the first time in what feels like forever. When he sees the warmth that lives inside of you color your skin with the softest, natural flush.

Jeongguk is still so jealous.

He watches you and he studies you. Now that he’s not relying on his memories or the pictures in his camera roll or the ones on your socials– he’s trying to pick out what’s the still same; how you’ve changed. Your hair is a bit longer, a shade or two darker as well. Maybe it’s the big hoodie you’ve got on, but you look smaller than he remembers. In his chest, he feels his heart tug but he can’t dwell on it too much as he refocuses on your features beginning to stir.

They shift from dazedly blank to shocked, as if your still-sleepy brain has just now registered him being there, and the smallest gasp sounds from your lips. Then an expression that’s a cross between confused and angry takes the place of prior surprise. The doe-ish look becomes sharp and stern; your narrowed eyes are framed above by scrunched brows and below by shadowy circles. Your mouth goes from slack with your plush lips barely parted, to pouty and pursed in a deep frown.

Jeongguk knows he should say something.

Explain.

Say sorry.

Ask for forgiveness.

But he feels mute, like his heart is stuck in his throat. Like he can’t do anything but stand there and hope you show him a little bit of undeserved grace. That you give him a moment, and then another, to get himself together. Even though he’s had too many moments already to do exactly that.

In the few seconds that go by you shoo your roommate, and after she’s gone, your face changes once again. Softening just enough to not be so harsh. You stand in your doorway as he flounders and you watch with intent, almost curious, anticipation. And Jeongguk doesn’t want to be too optimistic– but he thinks there might be a hint of relief, an inkling of eager, hopeful expectation hiding in the way you’re looking at him.

As if you’ve been waiting for him; wanting him– and now he’s finally here; almost yours.

He’s so caught up in that –the minute chance of reconciliation that he only thinks he caught a glimpse of– that he doesn’t get out of his head until the movement of your shoulders slumping, and your chest deflating rips him out of it.

Jeongguk would prefer the air your demeanor carried just moments ago. The quiet, masked hopefulness you gave off before you made yourself smaller and breathed that tiny, dejected sigh. God, he would even take the calloused, puzzled hostility you had when you first realized it was him in standing in your doorway. Anything over how you look currently.

Definitely disappointed, maybe a little bit embarrassed, and just so sad.

It’s what he expected, at least to some extent. He’s foolish, but he can only fool himself so much. There’s a limit on how many fantasies of effortless forgiveness he can have before he has to face reality.

Jeongguk knew you would be sad, and he knew you would be disappointed. He was ready to take responsibility for the role he played because he was so sure that it would be his fault.

But what makes how you’re looking at him right now so awful, so unbearable– is that you’re looking at him like it has nothing to do with him.

You don’t look disappointed in him. You don’t look sad because of him.

It looks internal, so personal.

Like you’re sad because you naively allowed yourself to hope– let it glimmer, shining so obvious in your eyes. Only for the brightness to dim, snuffed out by the foolishness that so often goes hand in hand with naivety.

Like you’re sad because as soon as you saw him, you had expectations– preconceived notions about how it would go when he came back, how he would act. Only to learn that with enough preconceived notions, you can turn expectations into daydreams.

Maybe that’s why you look a little embarrassed, too. Because you so quickly let yourself hope, like a child who hasn’t learned from their mistakes. Because you immediately conjured up expectation-disguised daydreams of Jeongguk. Still, after all this time. After everything he’s done, you still expected good from him.

You look like you’re disappointed in yourself, not him, because you should have known better.

He doesn’t find his voice until you’re shaking your head like he’s let you down. Until you’re turning away from him and edging the door closed.

“I’m sorry!”

Jeongguk blurts the words out, and he didn’t say much but his chest is heaving and he’s got this frantic way about him and a panicky feeling flooding his veins. When you look up, surprise flashes across your face, but it’s gone in an instant and is replaced by incredulous anger. Like you can’t believe him.

Despite your trying to stand your ground and hold his gaze, a gleam still shines in your eyes.

“I am,” he assures breathlessly, his eyes darting across your face, “I’m so sorry, ___. And–”

When Jeongguk tells you he misses you, he notices how you almost flinch. How your eyes snap shut tightly –like you can feel his words, but still aren’t sure if they’re real or if they’re true; like you’re scared of finding out– and the heavy tears pooling on your lashline finally spill over.

As the salty droplets drip down the apples of your cheeks, Jeongguk feels an ache that hurts so badly that it’s visceral. Like if he could crack open his chest, he could get a hand on the it and just rip the pain out and make it go away. If only that was the case.

“I–” you start, but your voice gives out. You clear your throat with a small cough, and talk to the ground because it’s easier to talk to than him. “Maybe we’re better like this, Gguk.”

Jeongguk’s heart drops, and it’s a struggle to get out even just a whispered a plea of your name.

When you speak up this time, you force your eyes to meet his. Your brows are upturned and your bottom lip quivers for just a second before you take a deep, self-soothing, breath and school your features into a facade of indifference and resolve.

“I hope Nari’s been okay. And you. I hope you’ve been okay, too.”

Jeongguk’s brows furrow. He’s confused but gives you an unsteady nod. “She– she’s good, yeah.”

You scan his face, trying to keep your own expression neutral. But how he only mentions Nari and not himself doesn’t evade you. A faint heartache murmurs in your chest, but you mimic his nod. “That’s good. I’m glad–”

“What about you? Have you been okay?”

Jeongguk’s words come out overhasty and too eager. But after such a long time of replaying old dialogues in his head– talking to you just feels so nice. He doesn’t want to stop, even if the conversation feels stilted and trivial. He’s still going to hang on to every little marginal thing you say, and he’s still going to do his best to keep the empty words flowing between you.

He doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath while he awaits your answer. Not until he hears you say, “Yeah, I’m happy, I think” and the air inside his lungs vacates. Making room for a thick cloud of melancholy that isn’t surprising, but still makes it hard to breathe all the same.

Guilt mingles with the suffocating hurt because you being happy shouldn’t make him sad.

But then you smile and Jeongguk responds with a frown and a skeptical shake of his head.

Because the smile– it’s so fake, so unconvincingly artificial and staged that when it turns your eyes to half moons and causes their corners to crinkle– it also forces a fresh wave of tears to tumble down your cry-flushed cheeks.

He doesn’t believe you, but that’s no surprise. You’ve never been a good liar.

A dim, defeated laugh putters from your lips. Trying to portray nonchalance, you give him a weak, half-hearted shrug, like you know you’ve been caught but it can’t be helped.

He knows it hurts you to dismiss him. He can hear it in your shaky, wispy tone when you say, “Take care, Gguk.”

Take care Gguk.

Jeongguk knows it’s a ‘goodbye’. A goodbye that he’s having trouble processing.

It feels like a lifetime, but really it’s only a few seconds that Jeongguk stands there trying to make sense of your words. It’s only a few more before the door closes on him.

Jeongguk couldn’t process the goodbye, but the telltale click of the door locking somehow makes perfect sense.

~~~

Like you are the starlet of your very own coming of age, lifetime, hallmark romance drama– you don’t let yourself cry until your back is pressed against the closed door. Then you cover your mouth to keep quiet as you slide down the wood.

The moment is short-lived.

“Where’s Jeongguk?”

The voice seemingly comes from nowhere, and you jump slightly before swearing and directing your puffy, bloodshot eyes at your roommates. They both have their head peeking out from behind the kitchen wall. Nosy.

“What do you mean ‘where’s Jeongguk?’” you groan, knocking your head back against the wood.

Binna and Jade exchange a look.

“Are you guys like… not gonna… talk?”

You slow blink at them a single time.

An awkward quiet permeates the pumpkin-spice-scented air of your shared home. It’s not even Fall anymore.

“Well,” Binna starts, and then cuts herself off like she spoke before she knew what she wanted to say. She elbows your other housemate. “Jade?”

Jade gives you an instinctive, reactionary smile that’s far too big. “I mean… communication is key… right? And that’s mainly what was lacking before? Talking now could give you the oppurtunity to say all the things you’ve been wanting to. And maybe he can explain his side–”

Binna raises a hand to cut her off, “Too much credit, he is still a man.”

“Fair but–”

The two bicker for a bit before looking at you again.

“Wait, did you not want to work things out?”

You roll your eyes. “Of course I wanted to.”

“Of course you did,” Jade agrees easily.

“Of course you did,” Binna mimics before groaning and asking, “So why the hell is he not here, and why the hell are you not talking and ‘working things out’?”

Crossing your arms, your posture becomes defensive. “Wouldn’t that be too easy? Like he shows up at my door after all these months of virtual silence and I just let him in? Aren’t I supposed to make him grovel and cry and beg?”

“You have to let the man speak for him to be able to grovel and cry and beg, I’m afraid…” Binna informs.

The narrowing of your eyes is the simple response she gets. Only because Jade speaks up before you can.

“You know…” Jades starts, then ponders momentarily. “If it was you that showed up at his house out of the blue at 8 in the morning on a weekday? Then yeah,” she nods to herself, “I would say that it was too easy for him. But he came back to you. And just talking to him?” she shakes her head, “That’s not forgiving him. He still has a lot of work to do– and you should make him prove himself. Prove that he’s grown and changed,” Jade says before she gives you a gentle smile. “But him knocking on the door was also him taking the first step.”

He came back to you.

It’s what you wanted. But now that it’s happening, you have no clue what to do next.

You don’t know what to say. Are you supposed to lie and tell him you’re thankful that he pushed you away; that it helped you realize that he was right? That you are too young? That you’re happier without him, better off being free like he wanted you to be?

Or do you tell him the truth? Do you tell him about how hard it was without him? About how painful it was to go from having so much of him, all of the time– to not having none of him at all, ever? Do you come clean about how hollow and lost being alone made you feel? Do you tell him about how much it hurt every time you thought about how all it took was a few words from his ex– and you were gone; cut out so easily and carelessly? Do you admit that it still hurts to remember?

You don’t know what to do. Do you resist the fight you’re expected to make him put up? Or do you not fight it much at all and welcome him with a second chance and a fresh start? Do you pretend like you didn’t miss him? Like you didn’t fantasize about him coming back? That you didn’t look for pieces of him everywhere you went; in everybody you met?

You don’t know how to feel. Happy because he came to you? Sad that it took so long? Scared because him coming back is just another chance for him to leave again?

You were already crying, but the trickle of tears grows steadier. The sleeve of your sweatshirt is swiped angrily at your eyes, the light grey material dampened a few shades darker.

“Bro,” you cry, “I can’t even look at him without crying, I’m not gonna be able to talk to him. It hurts too bad.”

Jade looks down at you, gives you a pity pout. “If it’s any consolation, I think he will cry too.”

Binna agrees with a sympathetic nod of her head. “He’s probably hurting just like you, but it’s what he deserves.

“___,” Jades speaks up again, “It doesn’t have to be so– painstaking. Like you don’t have to drive yourself mad thinking about what you should do. Just do what you want to do. If you want to talk to him, then talk to him.” She shrugs like it’s really that simple.

And maybe it is.

~~~

It definitely isn’t.

Because if it was, you would not have opened with, quote, ‘I let you put your finger in my ass’, unquote.

And Jeongguk wouldn’t have replied with a slow, painfully dumb sounding: ‘I– yes… I remember…?’

You don’t even really know how it happened.

One second you’re hit with a burst of inspired adrenaline and then the next you’re knocking the wind out of both you and Jeongguk by barreling into his chest. The collision must have knocked the sense out of you, too. It’s the only explanation for your behavior.

All the same, the blame can’t be entirely yours– Jeongguk has to take some of it. He was standing directly outside of your door, after all. He claims he was working up the courage to knock again but that’s beside the point.

You keep your thoughts to yourself, as you pretend not to catch the way that he rolls his lips between his teeth to keep a smile off his face when you lead him into your room and slyly try to kick a few things under your bed. A stuffed animal, a bra. A few too many socks.

It’s a stupid attempt to make your space look a little more tidy and less like you’ve been rotting in it for the last few months. The room’s not too messy by any means; definitely not unkempt enough for you to feel embarrassed or like you need to straighten it up to impress him. But you hope he chalks it up to your nerves getting the best of you.

He’s nervous, too. If how awkward he’s being is anything to go by.

Just standing at the foot of your bed with his hands in his pockets while you situate yourself in front of your headboard. He doesn’t take a seat until you pat the mattress a little, letting him know it’s okay and that you want him to.

There’s a quiet hush that fills the space. It’s slightly tense, but it’s not entirely uncomfortable; stilted but somehow familiar.

You’re sitting with one leg dangling and a pillow in your lap. It’s hugged to your chest. Perhaps a make-shift shield to put something between you and Jeongguk. Fiddling with a loose pillowcase string helps you avoid eye contact by making you look occupied.

Jeongguk’s sat before you, stiff and looking down at the floor between his feet. Similarly evading your gaze just like you’re doing with his. He’s clenching and unclenching his hands, rubbing his palms restlessly over the material of his slacks.

Thinking back, Jeongguk feels like he did so much of the talking that night in his living room. Probably too much, if he’s being honest. He feels he never really gave you the time to say your side or a proper chance to explain yourself.

So this time, he wants to let you do most of the talking. Let you be the one to initiate, at the very least. He wants to give you all the time you need to start the discussion how and when you want, with what you want and feel has precedence.

Jeongguk stays patient right up until you say in a huff, “Well say something, I’m obviously not good at this.”

His lips twitch at your stubborn, slightly irritated tone.

“You’re the one that showed up at my house when I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to be at work, so,” you wave your hand at him, indicating you want him to get on with it. “Must have something important to say.”

The small laugh he allows himself is barely a chuckle, but it tumbles from his lips before he can stop it. Blames it on instinct and the simple fact that he just misses you.

“It is important,” he confirms, giving into your bait and starting the conversation for you. He considers staying quiet, getting another little reaction out of you, but he reminds himself that this isn’t the time for that. If he plays his cards right, maybe then he’ll be able to joke with you. But as of now, that’s not his place anymore.

Shifting to face you a little more, so that when he says, “I wanted to apologize to you, ___,” you have his full attention.

When he speaks, you don’t look at him. Instead, you only give him the faintest nod with your eyes cast down. Still fixed on the pillow in your lap. But Jeongguk notices how your lashes flutter quickly before you press your eyelids together tightly; just like you did earlier when he said that he missed you.

Your shoulders lift when you take a deep inhale, and your face is more or less neutral when your eyes meet his.

“It’s been months,” you tell him.

As if he doesn’t know. As if he hasn’t been driving himself mad day in and day out trying to muster up the courage to do precisely this; as if time doing what time does hasn’t been the bane of his existence. Because with each passing day, he knew he was that much closer to going from ‘it’s been so long’ to ‘it’s been too long’. He’s all too aware of just how long it’s been.

Regardless, he doesn’t want to give you excuses; choosing to be easily agreeable. He offers a small tilt of his head as acknowledgment.

“Why now?” you question him.

Jeongguk tries to keep the sadness off of his face when he hears how you sound.

The tone of your voice is unsure; hurt. But the pain is elusive. Only heard when your subtle heartache peeks through the veil of composure you’re trying to hide behind.

While he racks his mind for a worthy explanation, his eyes scan yours. Overflowing with so many different emotions and so expressive just like he remembers.

“I wish–” he begins, “I wish that I could tell you that I’ve been working toward this for ages and that I thought through all the steps and knew exactly what I wanted to say to you…” He gives a small self-deprecating chuckle, “But I can’t tell you that. After earlier, it’s clear that I didn’t have any idea or plan,” he offers you his bared palms. “I wish I had a good reason for ‘why now’, but I don’t.”

Your brows furrow with affronted confusion. Jeongguk speaks up before you can.

“That’s not to say that I haven’t been thinking about this since you left–”

“I didn’t leave, you got rid of me–”

The correction is hissed before you snap your mouth shut like you didn’t mean to say it. But you don’t take the words back and Jeongguk can’t control his expression this time. His face falls and he sighs as he looks down at the pattern on his pants.

“I’ve been thinking about this since I told you to leave,” he tries again, slowly. When you don’t comment again after a small pause, he continues, “but I wasn’t actively figuring out how to do it. I’ve come to learn that plans are essentially useless, so planning out what to say to you seemed pointless. In hindsight, it just made me look stupid,” he muses.

“Honestly, having you on a constant loop in my mind wasn’t intentional; I didn’t want that,” Jeongguk admits. But he doesn’t even chance a glance, not keen to see your worsening scowl. “Remembering you just made me so miserable? Like, thinking about you all the time made me miss you all the time. And missing you made me so fucking sad– like the kind of sad you can feel? Like it hurt to think about you. But you never left my head, so the hurt never went away…”

Jeongguk’s words slowly come to halt, his cheeks reddening to a bright cherry when he realizes that he’s rambling. As he’s mentally trying to dull his blush to something more faint and less conspicuous, he notes that your expression changed. You still look a bit angry, but now, there’s a pastel hue. A soft, muted sadness toning down the harshness.

He stumbles a little when he says, “I– Truthfully– I guess the–” Then he takes a quick, staccato breath mid-sentence to get himself together. “I guess the most truthful explanation for why I took so long is… avoidance? And guilt? Fear?”

When he frustratedly combs a hand through his hair, he pretends not to notice how it’s shaking. And he’s grateful that you don’t mention it when you track his movement.

The conversation gets stuck in a momentary limbo while Jeongguk thinks about what he said. It’s the truth. He was scared before– it’s what got him in this mess and it’s what kept him away for weeks too long. But he’s still scared. Despite getting the most intimidating part over with –actually coming to you after finally working up the nerve to– the fear of fucking up still hasn’t waned.

He’s still just as scared as he was.

Scared of saying the wrong thing. Of not being able to put what he feels into the right words. Of not being able to convey how truly fucking sorry he is for hurting you, how much he regrets it. He’s scared of hurting you again. Scared of you not forgiving him for the first time he did.

He is still just as scared of lying in the bed that he made.

Jeongguk digs his fingertips into his thighs and his nails are dull, but he does it hard enough for a minute pang of discomfort to still be felt. He makes himself puff out a lame chuckle. It sounds strained and resembles a scoff more than anything, but he’s trying to lighten the mood; make the air in the room lighter and easier to breathe.

“I’m sorry,” he says on the tail end of the scoffing chuckle, shaking his head lightly. His voice has a light waver, shaky due to his nerves. “I– I’m just–”

When he feels your small hand settle over the one he has working into his leg, his head whips up quickly and a reactive reflex almost has him pulling his hand away.

But he stops himself before, and he’s so happy he does. Because when the initial shock wears off, your touch feels good. Familiar and comforting. He’s happy he catches himself because your touch feels nice and when he looks up from it, he gets to see you.

It’s like you stopped hiding and came out from behind that veil. Or maybe it’s an accident and you just forgot to keep it up. Either way, it doesn’t matter because he gets to see you watching him so artlessly, so openly honest. With a look that feels like a reminder.

A reminder that your heart has always been so soft, so sweet– that it still is. Softer than the hand you have settled gently over his and sweeter than its touch when you coax his own into being gentle, too, but with himself. A reminder that you’ve always been soft, sweet– that you still are. You look at him –softly; sweetly– like you’re reminding him that you’re still you.

It makes his eyes water and he has to look away. The thin, pinstripes on his slacks blur together, blending into thick lines as unshed tears muddle his vision.

“It’s okay, you can–” he hears you tell him, starting hushedly. You sound hesitant, like you’re not sure if you want to finish. “I… want to know what you’re trying to say. So– you can take your time... I’ll wait for you.”

And if someone asked Jeongguk to describe the ache that fills his chest at your words– he would tell them that it hurts like he imagines the kindest, most tender, undeserved compassion would.

“It took me so long because I was a coward, ___,” he says quietly. But the word is spat from his mouth like something foul. “I was so scared of feeling the hurt and facing the guilt that came when I thought about you; what I did to you–” Shame runs through his veins and he shakes his head at how spineless he was– unable to face the consequences of his own actions. It’s humiliating to remember.

He’s still talking down to his lap when he admits, “I– just avoided it altogether. I was so busy trying to keep it away that I didn’t give much thought to owning up to everything. I didn’t even know where to begin or how to go about fixing things with you.”

Jeongguk’s not crying yet. With that being said, his vision is still bleary and his eyes are red-rimmed from fighting the stubborn tears. He turns the hand he still has underneath yours palm-up. Covers yours with his other on top. Your tiny hand sandwiched between his big ones. He tilts his head back, blinks the wet in his eyes away.

“I wanted to so badly, though,” he tells you, bringing himself to look at you, “To fix things with you. To just try with you. It took me way too long to understand something that should have been common sense: That things don’t always happen the way you plan for them to; That pieces don’t just fall into place just because you want them to. If I want something… It takes effort to make it happen. I have to work for it and try my best to put the pieces where they belong.”

Jeongguk gives you a small smile and your hand a little squeeze. “I needed someone’s help to figure some things out,” he rolls his eyes playfully, almost fondly exasperated by the memory. “Like how to start altering the way I think and how to stop with all the wallowing and self-commiseration. How to stomach self-reflection. But when it finally clicked and I really got it? Fixing things with you was the only thing I wanted to do.”

There’s a tiny flicker of something coming back. A sanguine glimmer replaces the chagrin in Jeongguk’s eyes and you try to mirror it, reflect it back to him. Because the things he’s saying all sound so good. Perfect and promising and like everything you could have hoped for.

But when he says the thing about needing someone’s help? Anything he said before gets repressed. Unclear and hard to recall, as if his words are stuck inside a wayward memory. Anything he says after is indistinct. Muffled and hard to hear, as if there’s water stuck inside your ears. Similar to the rot that’s stuck inside your heart; ugly and hard to get rid of.

Such a gross, sickly feeling suddenly comes over you.

It takes so much effort to swallow it down. The green-washed insecurity that’s wanting to crawl up your throat and out your mouth. Masquerading as untrusting accusations that will make you seem paranoid. Heartsick questions that will leave you too vulnerable.

Who was it? Was it her? Was Dasom the one who helped you?

Of course, she’s going to be a sore spot and you know that. But the thoughts fluster you and catch you a little off guard because it’s not like you to think like that.

It’s never been like you to be paranoid. To feel so self-conscious and easily threatened. You’ve never been the type to chastise. To interrogate, or pry. To accuse, or assume.

The doubt came from out of nowhere– crept its way into your head during a brief lapse of emotional awareness and into your heart when it erringly opened and was left unguarded. At first, quieting the intrusive thoughts and dispelling the negative feelings was a challenge. But in the end, you managed and it was fleeting and passed quickly.

Shaking the residual embarrassment that follows the bad thoughts and emotions, is much more difficult.

Unlike the momentary doubt, the sudden flash of insecurity that it comes with is so intense that it lingers, so strong that it fogs your head. It distractingly hangs out in the back of your mind making it hard to focus.

It takes a few moments longer before you’re able to suppress it and push it down, down, down. Down far enough that you’ll be able to forget about it. At least for a short while, you’ll be able to convince yourself that the feelings won’t come back because it’s just not like you.

Wanting to omit it altogether, you gather your composure and fully give Jeongguk your attention again. You give him a small but genuine smile and wiggle your fingers that are still between his hands.

He smiles back softly, while you sit quietly. You’re working to piece together the things he said while you were lost in your head, trying to come up with a decent response.

“I was scared too,” you reveal quietly, “The whole time I was scared.”

“Will you tell me what you were scared of?”

“There were so many things, Gguk.” You don’t tell him that there still are. Jeongguk nods attentively. You gingerly untangle your hand from his, catching his eyes before looking around your room.

“The finger thing was a really bad example,” you begin trying to explain. You shake your head with a sheepish smile, embarrassed and horrified at your past self. “and it wasn’t the actual act. It was more of what it meant that was scary for me? Like the fact that I let you do something that I always swore I would never let anyone do? Ever.”

Laughing lightly, you think back on all of the times that your friends would make jokes. How they always told you that there would be a time that you would be horny enough to let it happen. The times when they had more class and said it was fine if you never wanted to and never did, but that they still thought you would end up giving in one day. For the right person, you would.

But you always remained adamant– so sure that nobody would ever make the act appealing enough, that nobody would ever make you feel comfortable enough with them for you to allow them to touch you like that or see you like that.

“But then I met you.”

Jeongguk’s brows furrow slightly, like he doesn’t quite understand. But he just stays quiet and nods again, waiting for you to continue. And honestly, you can’t blame him. Anal should never be such a serious topic or something that feels like such a pivotal point in a relationship. You certainly wish that it wasn’t.

But alas.

“All it took was a couple of months… Just a few soft touches and some dreamy words and I was putty in your hands.” Your hands that are folded lightly in your lap open up to show your palms before they squeeze shut into tight fists. “I feel like I would’ve done anything for you; anything you asked me to.”

His features fall, and the expression he wears is laced with so much guilt. “Wait– Did I… make you feel like you had to do certain things?”

You can’t help but smile at his concern as you shake your head sadly. “No, no… nothing like that– I always wanted to.”

Jeongguk frowns, not certain of how truthful you’re being.

Promising him that you’re not lying, you elaborate. “That’s part of why it was scary for me, I think. There was just something about you that made me so…I don’t know, willing? So yours?”

The admission makes pesky pinpricks of tears sting the backs of your eyes. “And I was. I was so yours the whole time even though you weren’t mine–”

“I was–” Jeongguk chimes softly. Interrupting, if only for the sake of trying to convince you.

“Not really,” you argue. The tone you use comes across as somewhat detached. Like you’re just stating a fact.

Using the silence that nestles between you as an opportunity to think, you consider what you’re wanting to tell him. How vulnerable you’re willing to get. Your mouth opens before you feel like you’ve even made your decision.

“I knew you liked me,” you acknowledge because you don’t want to be unfair, “but part of me always wondered: ‘how much does he?’ and ‘for how long will he?’. I was already scared that I was just a phase for you. Before Dasom ever said it.”

Jeongguk tenses just a touch at the mention of his ex and you pretend not to notice, continuing with, “So when she said that I was just something you needed to get out of your system and you didn’t defend me? God, Jeongguk,” you get out, eyes squeezing shut. Wincing at the ghost of pain the memory brings back. “That hurt so much.”

Despite your wanting to look him in the eye and come off strong while you relay how his actions made you feel; it’s impossible. Despite wanting to seem as though you’ve healed and grown and matured and like it just doesn’t hurt so bad anymore; you can’t face him.

“And then everything happened so quickly?” you continue before he can get a word in, your words coming out rushed and frantic, “It felt like you didn’t even think about it, and like it was just so easy for you to let me go? Like I really was nothing just like she said–”

He can’t stop himself from reaching out and quieting you when he hears the way your voice breaks. Jeongguk doesn’t want you to cry, not sure he could handle it if you did. Your hands are in your lap still, clenched together, so he rests a palm on your knee.

“___,” he says gently, “I need you to believe me when I tell you that none of that is true.”

You keep talking like you don’t hear him.

“It almost seemed like you were already over it, bored of me. And her saying those things was a convenient way to– ” you shake your head before sighing. “I was always scared that you’d end up getting tired of me, that you would stop wanting me and just get rid of me. And after what she said, it felt like you finally did. Like you used her words as an excuse so you could finally leave me.”

“That’s not true, baby,” he reiterates, tongue slipping as he tries to console you again

At the pet name you look up. Your red-rimmed eyes locking with his.

He stutters a bit as he backtracks, barely able to get out a stiff apology.

And your lips pull down in a deep frown, and your brows turn up confusedly. “You said you wanted to… fix things with me?”

Jeongguk’s lips part, dim surprise taking over his face before he breathes a small yes.

“I want that too,” you breathe back, “but I’m still so afraid Jeongguk.”

“I know, I know you are– I am too–”

“Not like me,” you counter, “You may be scared, but you’re not scared like me. You can’t be scared like me.”

Your words come out sharper than intended, too emotional for the facade you’re trying to portray. But you don’t dwell on the tone of your voice. Nor do you dwell on the brief ire that flickers in Jeongguk’s eyes.

“I’m scared that I’ll never catch up to you. You won’t ever know what that feels like because you’ll never be the one that’s worried about falling behind– you’re the one that’s ahead of the curve. I’m scared that I’m not good enough for you and Nari– that I can’t be. You have no reason to be scared of that.”

The fight to keep your voice level and in control dwindles. Every ounce of your pain can be heard as you let out the burdensome ache in your heart, little by little.

Each word is heavier than the last when you ask Jeongguk, “Why would you be afraid of not being good enough for someone who never made you question it?”

Jeongguk flinches. Visibly recoils as if your words are abrasive enough to hurt.

Which is what you wanted. You wanted to hurt him, but it doesn’t make you feel better like you anticipated. If anything his reaction makes your pain ricochet right back at you. Hurting him, hurting you.

And then you consider that perhaps, you didn’t truly want him to hurt– that you might have just wanted him to be aware. To know what you’re scared of; how it hurts to be scared.

“Maybe you are scared, too,” you amend, “Maybe there are even a few things that we’re both afraid of… but being scared isn’t something we have in common.”

The hurt from before is replaced by barely-hidden defensiveness. Jeongguk does try to hide it as he listens to you, though. You give him credit for that.

“Being scared that you’ll realize that I actually am just some stupid kid that doesn’t know what she wants, exactly like you thought, is a very specific fear,” you try to explain. “I’m scared that one day you’ll look at me but you won’t see me anymore– you’ll see a mistake that could have been avoided if you never came back. That I’ll cross your mind. But instead of thinking fondly… you’ll end up thinking about how you wish you had just stuck by your decision when you said you wouldn’t let me stay.”

A defensive urge to argue the validity of his feelings comes naturally– he’s only human. His emotional side finds it unfair of you to determine, decide, and define his fears but the irony of the situation dawns on his logical side just as quickly.

The fact that you’re speaking to him in a manner that mirrors how he spoke to you all those months ago, doesn’t escape him. Instead, the similarities make him stop and think. Something he regrets not doing that night in his living room.

He concludes that arguing with you would be pointless. He knows you’re right and it doesn’t take him long to realize.

Yeah, Jeongguk’s scared. But just like you said– he’s not scared like you. Not scared of what you’re scared of. Jeongguk’s fears are more or less internal and he’s had a few of them for most of his adult life, since he became a father. Some of the fears may concern you in some way or another, but none of them manifested because of you or something you did or things you said.

He’s scared, but he’ll never be scared like you. Not when the things you’re afraid of only exist because of him.

The thought of it never going away, of you never being the same or free of the ache he caused, even after the insecurities and fears are dug up by the root– it makes Jeongguk feel like he’s going to be sick.

“I know you didn’t mean to hurt me,” you end up saying after a few moments of watching Jeongguk struggle to get words out. “And I know you regret it. You showing up here proves that.”

The small, sad smile you give him is too kind for what he did.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” Jeongguk says, “For you, for Nari. I never thought– I’m so sorry, ___.”

“I know,” you reassure, gently.

And you truly do know how sorry Jeongguk is. He obviously doesn’t have the words to express his remorse, but sincerity is written all over his face. His big doe-eyes dark and glassy and so genuine. Full of regret; the longing to go back and undo what can’t be undone. Somehow so full of warmth, just like you remember.

“I don’t want to fight anymore,” you say.

It doesn’t sound like you’re at your wit’s end or like you feel as if the conversation has reached it’s breaking point. Just sounds like what it means. Like you don’t want to fight. Not with him. Not with yourself. Not with what you’ve been wishing for since you lost it.

Jeongguk agrees, nodding. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make it a fight. I want you to be able to talk to me about–” He’s flighty, moving his hands all about, like he’s nervous and has too many things he wants to say. “about everything, really. So, I promise, I’ll just listen–”

You watch him for a few more seconds, letting the corners of your lips turn up just so. Then you reach for his hands, ceasing their movement with your own.

“Shush,” you laugh faintly, “There’s still a lot we have to talk about. So much– we can’t get through it all with one conversation. It’s gonna take a lot of them and a long time, probably. But I think we’ve covered the most important stuff, right?”

You’re aware it’s going to take time to get through the maze of problems you and Jeongguk have created between each other.

But you can’t help but think about all time that you wasted while making them.

And you don’t want to waste even more time by waiting till everything is figured out before you start letting yourself get past it. You don’t want to hinder the process of moving forward by getting lost trying to navigate the maze. Not when you’ve finally made your way back to each other.

So while the labyrinth hasn’t been solved, and all your issues haven’t been fixed, at least now, you don’t have to do it alone. You can resolve everything and find a way out together.

It’s possible that you’re too willing to push things aside, that you’re too keen to move past it all. That you’re not standing your ground, being too easy and too soft, too quick. That you’re not giving yourself enough time to consider what you haven’t touched on yet. To process what you have.

But as you told Jeongguk, you feel like what needed to be addressed has been. With time, everything else will be talked about. Which is enough for you and your eager heart. You don’t want to wait anymore, not when you’ve been waiting so long already.

Jeongguk’s wearing a flush when you grin at him and he looks down at the pair of your hands, still slightly entangled on your duvet. His thumb rubs softly over your knuckles while he says, “If you’re sure?”

Vaguely aware of Jeongguk absently toying with your fingers while he awaits your reply, you think it over just for the sake of it and end up remembering something.

You hum musingly, making sure he can hear the smile you decorate it with. An attempt to diffuse the heavy air in your room till it’s something more buoyant; lighthearted and easier to breathe. You curl your manicured finger around one of his, trapping it briefly before untangling both your hands.

“Actually,” you start.

So very attentive, Jeongguk whips his head up.

“Now that I think about it, you told me why it took you so long,” you reflect, “But you didn’t tell me why now.”

Jeongguk opens his mouth to reply before he’s furrowing his brows, puzzled, pursing his lips into a line. It’s quiet while he thinks.

A weak, hopeless simper sounds, and he shakes his head while running a hand through his hair. “Again, I wish I had a better answer for you.”

You roll your eyes and change positions, now sitting criss-cross in front of him. “Okay, well, you didn’t just randomly show up! There had to have been something that made you come now; today.”

Light, but genuine laughter rings in your room– it starts off sounding like it’s accidental, cut-off chuckles only heard because the person laughing can’t hold it in, and it ends as cute giggles that lilt throughout the space softly.

And it’s all Jeongguk’s fault.

“No,” he says, around a breathy giggle, “I really did. I probably shouldn’t admit that, but I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and I ended up caving and looking at your–”

It’s now your fault that sounds of amusement continue to filter in the air– Jeongguk’s eyes getting wide and his face turning pink is too funny and you can’t not laugh at him.

He stutters when he tries to backtrack, “Y… Your– pictures? On my phone? In my camera roll?”

You narrow your eyes suspiciously, impishly. “Which of my pictures, hmm?”

The flush coloring his cheeks runs down to his chest, the silver LV pendant of his necklace would probably be warm if you reached out and touched it. He would probably be warm too if you reached out and touched him.

“No! Oh my god, not those! I did not look at those, okay? Anyway,” he rushes out, “I really was on my way to work! But add a couple of turns and a few steps–” he shrugs, “I guess now because I physically couldn’t keep myself from you any longer? Because then I was at your door and now I’m here. With you.”

The giggles have finally ceased, and now it’s just your paired breathing that acts as low background noise while you both take the other in.

“Now you’re here with me,” you repeat softly, with an even softer smile.

Jeongguk’s eyes drop to your lips for the briefest of moments. He darts his tongue out to wet his own.

“___. You were right,” he tells you, “It didn’t have to be all or nothing like I thought it did.”

You nod once.

“I’m sorry for not listening to you. For deciding for you and not letting you make your own choices. And for not even letting you explain your side that night. For how bad I hurt you and for all the things the hurt caused.”

“Okay,” you breathe.

“I should have listened to you.”

Again, you nod.

“I should have chosen you.”

It’s almost instantaneous when tears well in your eyes.

“But I was so scared of the way I wanted you and how badly I wanted it,” Jeongguk confesses, “I’ve never felt the way I feel about you before. For anybody.”

Mild confusion makes a home in your eyes.

He expects it before he sees it stir your features, so he’s not surprised when it appears. He finds himself smiling. Maybe because he’s wanted to tell you that since he realized it. Or maybe he wants to finally do what he should have done the night of the fight, and even before then.

Jeongguk smiles at your uncertainty because this time, he gets to make it go away. He gets to reassure you of your place in his life, of how important you are to him. Of how you’re worth trying for. He’s quick to shush you when your lips part to speak.

“No one,” he insists, “You’re so different, ___. And I feel so differently for you. I feel different when I’m with you. That’s part of why I was afraid. I was scared to want you because I didn’t know how to have you.”

Tears are making his eyes gleam, glassy in the morning light that streams through your blinds. Yours are a mirror and you don’t know how you’ve kept the drops from spilling over.

“I’m still fucking scared,” he admits, “Like you said, we’re both still scared. Because we have no god damn clue how this will turn out. If we’ll even be able to fix it and get back to the way we were. Who might be collateral damage if we can’t. If one of us will end up changing our mind. Or if we’ll end up even better; if we –me and you, together– will be the only thing that we’re sure about.”

The urge to tell him that you’ve been sure ever since you found his round little bug of a baby in your grocery store is so strong– you think you may burst because of it. Maybe the lovestruck feeling in your chest has gone supernova.

“I have no clue about anything other than the fact that I want to be with you, ___.”

��Let the record show that between you and him, Jeongguk is the one to let the first tear fall during this conversation.

“I want to try.”

“Yeah–”

“If you’ll let me, I want to try for you. And if you’ll have me, I want to try with you. Because if we don’t at least try– I think I’ll wish that we did forever.”

When you beam at him and exhale a simple, ‘Okay’ and Jeongguk echoes it, he thinks this is all too easy.

But then he remembers how everything with you has always been that way. Maybe not too easy, but just right. Concerning you, the hardest thing he’s had to do is be without.

He brings your hand to his lips, brushing your knuckles with a sweet, kiss. “I want to be with you,” he tells you again.

You bite your lip to suppress your smile. “Then be with me.”

This time he’s the one saying ‘Okay’ and you’re the one echoing.

Until backtrack with a pout. “What… what am I? Like– to you.”

“What do you want to be?”

“Yours.”

Your answer is breathed so quickly, like you didn’t even have to think about it to know that’s what you wanted. Like that’s the only thing you’ve ever wanted. How fast you reply gives Jeongguk butterflies. Makes him giddy while he tries to calm himself as he confirms, “Mine,” before he adds quietly, a little shy, “I’ll introduce you as… my girlfriend?”

Jeongguk is so endeared when you close your eyes, wistful when you ask him to say it again in an airy voice.

“My girlfriend,” he whispers, squeezing your hand in his.

When you open your eyes to look at him and he sees unshed tears heavy on your lashline, his heart pulls in his chest and it breaks a little when you murmur, “I didn’t know if I would ever hear you say that.”

“I’m sorry it took me so long.”

A teardrop escapes the corner of your eye when you shake your head, smiling so sweetly, so happily. Jeongguk’s distracted, just taking it in and getting lost in everything that is you. So much so, that he doesn’t see it coming. Not until your arms are wrapped around his neck, his reflexively coming up to wrap around your waist like muscle memory.

Jeongguk takes a deep breath when he has you in his arms, nuzzles his nose into your hair. Pulls you impossibly closer, and he can feel how he squeezes the air out of you when you puff out a dulcet laugh into the crook of his neck.

When you bring your hand to the back of his head, the feel of your nails on his scalp and your fingers in his hair is enough to make him sigh, sink into the touch. It’s familiar. Feels like a natural progression, just like the way your cheeks brush when you pull away just slightly, only to come back. Closer this time.

His nose bumps yours, and he inhales your shaky sigh.

“I…”

“Yeah?” Jeongguk breathes.

The shift is swift. The temperament of the atmosphere smoothly transforms– going from something saccharine and tenderly sentimental to something decadently rich and heavy. The air all at once becomes thick and intoxicatingly heady; plush and ardently warm.

The build-up is gradual. At first, the sudden heady note of warmth that makes your room hazy just feels like a blanket. Like it covers softly, tickles the skin lightly. Then it begins to seep in so slowly, gradually, that it’s not noticeable until the heat of it can be felt bone deep. Until fingers shake with the desire to touch.

It starts with Jeongguk nosing along your jaw; down the length of your neck when you tilt your head to the side for him. It starts with the occasional, accidental brush of his lips against your skin. It starts with your hand gripping tight in his hair, a subtle try at pulling him in to keep him near.

It ends with a kiss.

Albeit, a fleeting one– but still a kiss nonetheless.

Pulling himself back, Jeongguk’s features are tensed. Eyes squeezed shut, teeth gritted as he struggles with himself. He’s rough when he gets a hold of you by your waist. His fingers digging in harshly; almost like he doesn’t realize how he’s handling you. But he’s gentle when pushes you away to put some space between you.

“Why–” you whisper, needy, as you bring your palms to cover his grip at your waist. You pet at the backs of his hands, coaxing him into letting them roam. You guide his touch down to your hips when he gives in briefly, encouraging him to touch you.

“I don’t know if– Maybe we shouldn’t–”

You crowd his space, bringing yourself to your knees and pushing his palms down to where the hem of your too-big sweatshirt grazes high on your bare thigh. Jeongguk groans after he loses his short internal battle. Can’t rob himself of squeezing at the meat of your thighs just for a second before he’s trying to pull his hands from yours.

He doesn’t get very far because you end up cradling his face in your hands, angling his head up to look at you. And Jeongguk’s always been so easy for you. It’s no surprise how easily he yields to the movement; how easy his eyes slip shut. How easily he parts his lips when your tongue teases the seam; how easy it is to get lost in the taste of you.

“Shouldn’t what, Gguk?” you ask in a soft voice. Each word spoken between the kisses you’re trailing down the column of his neck.

Jeongguk keeps his hands mostly to himself. Awkwardly letting them hover by your sides as he searches his brain, trying to recall the reason why he’s clinging to his resolve. It is so hard though, when you’re right in front of him. So willing and eager to let him have you. He finds himself following your lips when you barely let the plush center graze his cupid’s bow.

“Maybe we should… take it slow?” he offers, dazedly. It wasn’t supposed to sound like a question, but Jeongguk can’t help the way his voice carries up at the tail end like he’s not sure that’s really what he wants.

A little giggle falls from your lips, puffs hotly over his. And Jeongguk’s never thought you evil before, but right now he’s certain that you are. Because, with wistful mirth still in your voice, all you do is nod like you’re simply humoring him and say, “Yeah, maybe.”

Then you kiss him again, sighing a delicate, ‘Touch me’ against his lips.

You bring his awkward hands to your body, placing them on your tits, urging him to cup and squeeze over your sweatshirt.

Jeongguk exhales shakily, unable to keep himself from rolling them in his palms.

“Yeah,” you whisper, “Please.”

His hold on your chest turns rough, accidentally letting his pent-up frustration out through his touch and taking it out on you. It doesn’t hurt, not really, but you still whine. Let out a high, airy keen as your eyes slip shut and your head tilts back.

There’s no warning. Only Jeongguk’s hands moving to your shoulders, followed by a push and then a tumble, ending with you on your back and Jeongguk hovering over you. He’s got your wrists pinned by your head, and he looks down at you with dark eyes. The frustration in them juxtaposes the surprise in yours.

“You know that’s not fair, ___,” he chides. His tone is harsh, trying to sound stern, maybe angry– but there’s a slight waver in his voice that tells you he’s struggling to stay collected.

Fussily, you squirm under him. You tug against the hold he has on your wrists, only for him to squeeze tighter. You cant your hips in an attempt to rub up against his, only for Jeongguk to just lift them higher. A laugh of incredulity pairs the disbelief on his face when he glances between your wiggling frame and your irritated pout.

“I’m trying to do things right,” he explains around his bemusement, as he roughly presses your wrists deeper into the mattress. “I’m trying to be good.”

You stare up at him with pinched brows. He looks so pretty above you. Flushed a pretty pink with his lips parted and plumped by the kisses you managed to steal. A stray, misplaced strand of hair flutters with his heavy breathing. His eyes keep flitting down to your lips, and you can physically see how much he wants you; how hard it is for him to fight it.

When he finally lowers his body to yours, it’s almost defeatedly. Jeongguk gives in and just rests his weight on you. Presses himself against you, hot and hard between your legs. Finding his place easily when you open up and make room for him.

He keeps that pressure on his cock while he exhales a trembling, almost relieved sigh. His nose brushes yours but when you tilt your head to connect your lips, he pulls back. He does it again, taunting you with almost-kisses until you’re craning your neck again.

He doesn’t kiss you back when he lets your lips connect. In fact, you can feel how he purses his stubbornly. You stay determined, unswayed by his resistance. Your soft kisses inch from his mouth to pepper cute, all over his blushing skin. The scar on his cheek, the bridge of his nose. The just barely off-center freckle beneath his bottom lip. When your palm naturally settles on his neck, fingertips over his pulse point, you let out a breathy noise of wonder when you feel how fast his heart is racing.

And he feels his cock kick shamefully in his pants, letting out a breathy noise of his own. You feel it too and you coo, soft and fond, as you trail your other hand down his spine until it’s flat on the small of his back, pressing encouragingly.

Pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, Jeongguk hangs his head to get closer to you. He bites gently at the pudge of your cheek, letting his teeth drag lightly until he’s mouthed hot, all the way to your ear.

“Why won’t you let me be good?” he whispers.

He croons prettily against the shell of your ear before he nips teasingly at your earlobe. A heat curls in your belly, making you suck in a short, whiny breath. The insides of your thighs clamp tight around his frame.

“Be good to me,” you gasp, arching up into him.

Jeongguk moans quietly and buries his face in your neck when he can’t stop his hips from stuttering into a clumsy rhythm. Sloppily rutting his cock over your panties, uncoordinated and eager.

Maybe he’s overly sensitive, hyperaware of your body underneath him, but when you begin to roll your hips, meeting his and matching his pace– he can feel how the little bit of added pressure has you opening up for him. Just enough for his hard-on to slide between, barely pillowed by your panty-covered pussylips. Even through the clothing, he can feel the difference. Like he knows you can.

He hears the unexpected moan you let out when you feel his cock rut over your clit and he feels the way your nails dig into his back at the sudden enhanced pleasure before he shifts to rest on his forearms so he can see too.

And what a pretty sight you are.

Eyes hazy and heavy, half-lidded as you look down your body to where he’s making you feel good. Cheeks flushed a rosy pink with arousal and maybe a little bit of abashment when you glance up at him and see him already watching you. You give him a small, shy grin before letting your eyes flutter closed. Basking in how he’s making you feel, your mouth falling open in a silent moan.

As he takes you in, his lips part with a low groan. His own pleasure coming from pleasuring you; heightened by every noise, look, and movement you make. Jeongguk gets such a specific satisfaction and gratification from making you feel good. From being good to you.

“Is this what you want?” Jeongguk whispers, slowing down some. He settles into a steadier pace, rutting his cock up and down on your cunt with slow, lazy drags.

He grins to himself because of how quick you are to nod and let him know that, yes, this is what you want. His hand comes up to smooth some of the flyaways that have sprouted from your squirming and he cups your cheek when your turn into his touch.

“Hmm?” he prompts, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

You huff, annoyed, and he can’t help but coo, smitten.

“Yeah– yes I want this, but I–,” you start off strong. You hold his gaze until shyness wins and has you focusing on the necklace dangling from his neck. The LV sways some as he continues to rock his hips. “I want more, too.”

“Yeah?” Jeongguk asks, a smile lacing his dreamy tone. He gives a quick, soft peck to your red-bitten lips in lieu of letting you answer. “I know you do,” he tells you, murmurs it with open-mouthed kisses against your throat. He pulls at the neck of your sweatshirt, draws a violet into your collarbone, using his lips as the pen. Then he tugs the thin skin between his teeth briefly, making you inhale harshly before he kisses it better.

“Gonna take care of you,” he promises, “take my time with you.”

Jeongguk proceeds at his own languid speed, lingering on every new inch of skin that’s revealed as he rids you of your sweatshirt. Of your panties.

He allows you your own pace as well.

Doesn’t spur you on when you’re slow to open up his dress shirt, doesn’t goad you into nimble quickness when your fingers stumble and it takes you far longer than it should to undo all the buttons. He doesn’t hurry you when your touch drags over his skin, or when your palms falter at his shoulders, or when your fingertips lag all the way down his arms when you finally slide the button-up off. When your shaky hands bide their time, hesitating at the buckle of his belt, he doesn’t rush you.

Jeongguk takes his time –and lets you take yours– as if time itself doesn’t exist when it’s passing between the both of you. As if each moment that comes and each moment that goes is inconsequential because moments are meaningless and time is simply a concept when forever is right now.

Nothing really matters and there’s no need to rush when he’s in your hands and you’re in his arms and forever is in his heart.

“Not yet,” he lilts, grabbing your wrists and sliding the flat of your palms up his tummy and away from his waistline.

“But I–”

“But I–” he flirts coyly.

Your mouth opens to argue, but the words never get a voice. His mien makes the words in your throat fall mute and causes a feeling of wistfulness to rouse in your heart.

Knelt on his knees between your legs, smiling down at you, playful and flirty. Happy. Wearing a pink full-body flush– Jeongguk is stunning. Distractingly so.

He’s glowing; gentle yet radiant. A quiet fondness reflected in his eyes as he looks at you with that well-worn adoration of his. It’s a familiar affection. One that you’ve missed, yearned for, and memorized– one that you’ve tried to unlearn and tried to forget, too, because of how much it ached to remember.

Nostalgia is a wonted thing that taints good memories until it hurts to remember them. It warped the memory of Jeongguk’s adoration until even just a fleeting thought about it hurt. It made you want to wipe your memory clean just to be freed from the yearning.

But with him looking at you the way he is, with that same raw adoration, you can’t fathom how you wanted to forget how it made you feel. How it still makes you feel. Because how good does it feel to be adored? How good does it feel to be wanted? How good does it feel to be finally his?

You dig your nails into his skin at the thought, and his tummy tenses. His grip on your wrists tightens and he lets out a soft hiss, the sound buoyed by a light, airy chuckle.

His thumbs run over the pulse points in your wrists. “Lean against the headboard for me? Get comfy?”

Cushioned by a few pillows, you do as he says, sinking into the down. Your knees are bent, and your arms are wrapped over your middle, now hyper-aware of how exposed you are comparatively.

Jeongguk’s top half is just as bare as you, only his necklace still on. But even though his lower body is covered, his bottoms are unforgiving. Dark slacks belted at his hips, the slight dip by his hipbones accentuated and his v-lines disappearing into the waistband where his cock is tucked away. Too hard and heavy to disguise, clothes doing almost nothing.

Not that he’s trying to hide it much at all. He’s palming himself casually, his touch light and his eyes dark. Tracking your movements while he waits for you to get settled.

When you are, Jeongguk makes his way to you, his hands resting on your knees as he lets his gaze roam. From your eyes to your lips, to your pillowy tits, to your closed legs. You feel a light pressure, almost tentative like he’s asking for permission with his touch.

He’s on his best behavior though, so he asks you as well. And when you hear how his voice comes out a little deeper, with an almost imperceptible tremble, as he gently asks, “Can I?”, your lashes flutter and your thighs reflexively press together, before you let him guide them open.

Time isn’t real, but any time in your bed shouldn’t go to waste. So he swiftly resituates himself, resting between your spread legs with his lips naturally finding their place on your neck, his hands on your skin.

Jeongguk’s quick, but attentive, as he relocates his mouth. The spit from his kiss marks leave a faint, wet trail from where they start at your neck down to the swell of your tits. He sighs when he gets a hold of them, jiggling a bit and squeezing. He glances at you through his lashes, as he plays your nipples, teasing them till they’re hardened by his touch. He smiles to himself when he sees you bring your bottom lip between your teeth to keep quiet.

When he uses his lips to tease, he hears you sigh an airy, pleased sound. He’s smug as he swirls his tongue, flicks lightly over the stiff little peak. You take a deep breath, your chest expanding and pushing into him, before it’s released in a stuttery exhale. When you get a hold of his hair, the strands curl around your fingers, softly, like how you hold him close and cradle him to your chest.

He gives the paired nipple the same attention. Has you mewling prettily with each lick and suck. Whining with each bite and tug.

As he follows the length of your body, he does so with small, suctioning bites. A little nip just below your sternum, a little nip under your ribs. One at the softest part of your lower belly, right next to the pink heart of your belly ring. He gives the jewel a tiny, baby kiss.

“This is the same one that you had in the first time we…” he stammers, too aware of the blush that simmers just under his skin at the thought. “We… you know… right?”

Jeongguk’s laying on his front, his head resting against your inner thigh. His arms wrapped around your legs, resting on your belly. The tattooed fingers of his right hand absently toy with the dangly part of the jewelry.

Something warms you from the inside, pleasantly surprised by the mushy, lovesick feeling that washes over you. Your heart beats, rapid in your chest, and you wonder if Jeongguk can feel the whirlwind of butterflies in your tummy under his palms.

You nod, blushingly and shy. “Yeah, it’s… yeah.”

“Just as cute as I remember,” he nods back. The puffs under Jeongguk’s eyes form when he smiles and adds, “This one is my favorite… Gonna make you feel good now, okay?”

He says it so casually, that you want to laugh a little, but the anticipation it sparks makes you tense. Your pussy clenches on nothing, and you can feel that tell-tale heartbeat pulse between your legs.

“Okay… yeah…” you whisper dumbly, trying to hide how eager you are. You slowly open your legs a little wider so you can see him better, so he can touch you better.

Jeongguk switches from having one of his hands wrapped around your thigh to it resting palm down on your mons. He uses his thumb to lightly run along your plump folds, up and down. His eyes are fixed on your pussy, and his tongue peeks out to wet his lips a little before he nibbles on the inside of his lip, a soft smile making the corners curl.

“Just as cute as I remember,” he says again, his tone playful and a little wistful this time. He kisses just above your slit.

Past lovers had said your cunt was pretty or maybe perfect when they found themselves between your legs, but Jeongguk has always called your pussy cute. It’s just a thing he does. And you don’t know why, but it never fails to make you blush, a little giddy and shy– something just so simple and sweet about his word of choice.

Even now, it has you wiggling and trying to inch your legs closed as you bring your hands up to hide your face. It’s whiny, but you both know you don’t really mean it when you say, “Stooooop” the word dragged out and laced with pleased flattery.

You can feel Jeongguk’s warm laughter puff over your cunt as he urges you to keep your legs spread. He hums as the giggles subside and says, “Don’t be shy now, I’m just getting started.”

A wistful sigh sounds, and it’s soft and cute and taunting when you say, “Okay well, hurry up.”

You shift slightly here and there to get more comfortable, running a hand through your hair as you resist the urge to smile back at Jeongguk when he gives you a look. When you bring your arm down from your hair, Jeongguk snags it, guiding your hand to your cunt. But when you start to play yourself he stops you, tuttingly.

“Don’t touch, just– open up for me,” he instructs, “Show me.”

Jeongguk groans under his breath when you do as he says. When he stroked over your pussy lips just a moment ago, they were plush and smooth, soft to the touch with your arousal tucked neatly between your folds. But with them spread, he can see how you’re glossy with slick; so dewy when he’s barely even touched you.

“You’re already so wet. How long have you been like this, hmm?” he wonders aloud, gathering a small bit of the sticky clear at your opening with his finger before just barely pushing it inside. Kind of like he’s trying to put the little droplet back where it came from; not let it go to waste. Then he brings his touch to your clit and your pussy slick aids the up and down swipes of his thumb.

“Ah– fuck,” you faintly gasp.

Jeongguk’s cock pulses as you bring your other hand down, using both to spread yourself open more and pull back the hood of your clit. Making sure his touch is direct and the sensation feels as good as possible. The thought of you already being so greedy for pleasure is enough for him to leak, precum surely leaving a wet patch in his briefs.

Even though he’s being gentle, when he rubs over your exposed clit, you shy away from his touch despite being so fiendish for it. Jeongguk babies you with a coo because he knows that you’re probably so sensitive. You gave yourself almost no time to warm up, afterall.

“Too much?” he asks you.

With a shake of your head, you say, “No, no… just– slowly, please.”

Your words make him smile and he gives your inner thigh a honeyed kiss for being so good. The smile lingers because slow is the pace he always intended to use, at your request or not. It’s how he intends to finish you too. For the first time, at least.

Jeongguk keeps that slow speed until your body relaxes and another few drops of clear slick drip for your cunt. The thumb of his other hand rubs softly over your taint as he collects what you leak and tucks it back inside. Your pussy clenches and your hole puckers at the sensation every time, and it makes him fucking throb.

The thumb on your clit only speeds up enough for it to not be torturous or agonizingly slow, the pace satisfying but remaining lax and unhurried, like he has all the time in the world. Once he finds a good rhythm, he keeps the motions constant and consistent.

When you start to get antsy and fidget, he smiles to himself knowingly.

“Feels good, baby?” he asks you, and when you nod, he whispers, “Yeah? Look so pretty…”

And you didn’t lie. It does feel good. But he doesn’t go any faster. He doesn’t push the fingers at your opening in any farther. And after a handful of seconds that feel like minutes that feel like hours– there still isn’t any indication that he plans to.

When you roll your hips, trying to hint at what you want, Jeongguk stops you with a scolded tsk, telling you to stay still. The sound you let out is frustrated and petulant.

There’s a taunting note in Jeongguk’s voice when he says, “I thought you said it feels good?”

“It does,” you tell him, “But– faster?”

Jeongguk’s expression is entertained, chuffed even. “I told you I was gonna take my time with you. Need you to be patient for me, baby–”

“Please–”

“Hush, ___.”

There’s still lingering amusement in his tone, but there’s also a sharpness, a hint of disapproval and something stern that wasn’t there before. It’s enough of a warning to silence the begging on the tip of your tongue.

“I’ll get you there, baby,” he says, his voice sweet again. “It’ll feel so good, I promise.”

It’s quiet for a moment. Then–

“I changed my mind, it doesn’t feel good.”

Jeongguk doesn’t even look up from your pussy when he asks a preoccupied, “No?” Then he peeks at you, and when you give a pouty nod he hums. It’s smiling and mirthful when he dismisses you. “Well, don’t worry. It will soon.”

Jeongguk is content between your thighs, still playing with your clit slowly. He only checks on you when your squirming mostly stops and you become suspiciously mute.

He snorts when he sees you scowling at him. “Don’t look at me like that.” After a few seconds with no response, he continues with, “Oh, so you’re going to be difficult now?”

You shrug, snooty.

Laughing, he asks, “You’re really gonna act like it doesn’t feel good?” The corners of his lips curl softly and his eyes narrow like he’s scrutinizing you. His head tilts a little when he continues with, “Like you’re not leaking, right now? Like you wouldn’t be making a mess on your sheets if I wasn’t helping you?”

Jeongguk watches your cheeks steadily turn a deep pink at his words until you look away from him, turning your nose in the air. You probably would have covered your face with your hands to avoid his gaze had they not been occupied.

He chuckles again when he’s only met more silence. Just the slightest squirm when he tucks another leaked droplet back into your cunt. To make a point.

“That’s okay, you can be mad at me as long as you’re patient, too,” he says, tone grossly fond and a perfect example of the patience he wants from you. “Still gonna make you cum. Still gonna be good to you and give you what you want.”

And it seems what people say about patience being a virtue and all that, is true. Because just like Jeongguk said, with just a bit more time and some decorum, it does start to feel even better.

Like the way he’s been touching you, the come-up is slow and steady. The hot waves of pleasure that ebb in your lower belly. The rise and fall of your chest that gradually gets faster. The noises that get harder and harder to keep in.

Jeongguk doesn’t need to hear you, though, to know he’s getting you there. But he’s enjoying this brattier side of you –he remembers you being difficult every now and then, but overall you were always so good for him; never fought him too hard on things– so he humors you by asking, “Starting to feel nice, baby?”

Everso tart, you shrug again, looking off to the side.

Still, Jeongguk doesn’t need to see your face to know he’s getting you there. Your pussy is a whistleblower, telling him everything he needs to know. Your cunt– leaking non-stop, contracting constantly. Your tiny clit– now puffy and swollen from all his attention.

Your fingers holding your pussy lips apart for him have a mild tremor. Your brows are arched when you finally give him your attention again, watching his thumb swipe up and down, over and over again. Your legs are beginning to tremble beside him. Your head is lulling back, and your lungs are exhaling a lewd sigh.

“I– I’m close,” you whisper, breathlessly.

Jeongguk purrs, is just about to tease you and your stubbornness with something along the line of ‘Really? Thought it didn’t feel good, ___’. But he doesn’t get the chance because of how close the string in you is to snapping. How it’s pulled so taut that it has you near tears, that slow and steady come-up finally peaking.

“Oh my god, Gguk– my– my pussy’s gonna cum,” you cry quietly, legs shaking as you struggle to keep them open.

“Mhm, I told you, baby,” he hums, smug, “Let me see how good it feels.”

Your face is turned into your shoulder, but you nod for him. Focusing on the ruining, slow, consistent rubbing of his thumb. The pleasure is so mind-numbingly good that, as much as you want to cum, you try to make it last as long as possible.

Which isn’t much longer at all, only a few more vertical swipes over your clit is all you can handle before you’re mewing a soft warning and cumming so hard your body convulses.

“That’s my girl. So pretty, baby. Did so good; always such a good girl for me,” Jeongguk praises, full of lust-filled awe as he watches you finish. He feels your clit pulsing under his thumb and he sees your cunt squeezing repeatedly around nothing and now he that he’s not preventing it, he sees how your pussy cums– leaking everything that he tucked away and dripping down to your sheets. Making a mess like he knew it would.

He continues to rub your clit until your body twitches, curling in on yourself as you close your legs and bring them to your chest. Wrapping your arms around the backs of your knees and pulling your legs to your chest, you curl into yourself for protection as Jeongguk moves to shed himself of the rest of his clothes. Then he sits on his heels while he watches you, amused.

Even though you’ve made a great attempt at hiding your pussy away, with the way you’re positioned it still peeks out from between your thighs. Puffy and shiny.

You’re on your back with your eyes closed, still catching your breath. The feel of Jeongguk’s hands on you makes you jump, and when his touch moves form the backs of your thighs closer to your sensitive cunt, you whine, kicking at his arms weakly.

“Shh,” he murmurs, “I won’t touch, I just want to look.”

Somewhat soothed by his words, you begin to shift to a more relaxed position but Jeongguk pushes your legs back together and your knees back to your chest.

You gripe at being manhandled. “What if I want to see, too?”

“You don’t need to see if I tell you what I see,” Jeongguk reasons.

“It’s mine,” you argue.

“Ours,” he corrects.

After telling Jeongguk that he’s dumb and asking him to please shut up, both of you dissolve into a fit of laughter. When you kick again, trying to get his shoulder as punishment, he gets a grip on your leg before you can land the hit and he kisses your ankle. You sigh.

It’s quiet, and you’re content letting Jeongguk pet at you, listening as he tells you about what he sees. He says cute a few times. Wet, messy. His fingers brush over your folds, even plumper than before, and you can feel the sticky wetness that stays behind when he moves his touch to somewhere else.

When he uses his thumbs to part your pussy lips, you hear him whine. The breathy noise makes you grin, and you hum lightly.

“Still cute?” you ask aloud. Eyes on the ceiling, smile still on your lips.

Jeongguk knows he said he wouldn’t touch, but he doesn’t think you’re too sensitive anymore. He still bypasses your clit just in case when he slowly runs his fingertip to your opening. When he presses into the second knuckle, you moan sweetly and the sound mixes with the audible wetness. There’s a crystalline string still attached to his finger when he pulls away.

“Mhmm,” Jeongguk hums, answering your question. “But so messy.”

You bite your lip when Jeongguk slips his finger in again, a little father this time.

“Clean me up, then,” you whisper, airy and wispy.

Jeongguk hums and when you look to the sound, you can see him peeking at you over your bent knees that are still pulled to your chest. He scrunches his nose at you cutely, and you mirror the curve of his lips.

“I guess I should, since I’m the one who made you make such a mess,” he hums, like he’s mulling it over. But the fact that he does so while lowering his face to your cunt shows that he’s already made his decision.

In this position, you can’t see him and it makes you tense in anticipation while you wait.

Jeongguk knows it’s a little mean to keep you waiting, but he can see you so perfectly like this. Can see how you’re trying control your arousal and calm yourself down with deep breaths. He can see how it’s not working.

“You’re shaking,” he observes dreamily.

Your pussy leaks and he watches that glossy slick drip down. He uses his pointer finger to play with the droplet at your hole, swirling the dewiness around the cinched muscle.

The sigh you let out is stuttered, and your hole clenches under his touch before you force yourself to relax again. You swallow your embarrassment before you admit, “I want it really bad, Gguk.”

You sound like you’re close to crying and Jeongguk soothes you with wet kisses on your thighs.

“All you have to do is ask, baby,” Jeongguk tells you gently. His kisses move till they’re right next to your pussy, his tongue poking out to lick just outside your folds. His thumbs pull you open and he blows lightly.

“Oh my god,” you whimper.

Jeongguk’s voice is full of flirty, mirth when he asks, “What do you say? Hmm?”

The heartbeat in your cunt is the only thing you can focus on. The pulsing is so loud and strong that it drowns everything else out. You don’t even really hear it when you sigh a hazy, “Please, sir.”

Predictably, your words go straight to his cock. But weirdly enough, he also feels them in his heart? He can’t explain it but somehow the lust thrumming through him melts into something fond? A lovesick impulse has him opening your legs so he can slot himself in between.

He doesn’t lay on you but holds himself above on a braced arm. His free hand comes up to cup your cheek as he looks at you. The corners of your eyes are damp, confirming the tears he thought he had heard in your voice earlier. Your lips are redder and a bit swelled, probably from you pulling them between your teeth.

Jeongguk kisses the corner of one eye, then the other, and then your lips. His thumb glides over your cheekbone. He sounds gentle when he says, “No ‘sir’ today, okay? Just Gguk.”

You nod in his hold.

“Good girl,” he smiles, soft and sweet. “I’ll clean you up now, won’t tease you anymore.”

You breathe a relieved sigh as Jeongguk kisses all the way down your tummy and you think about how good it’s going to feel, after all this time, to have his mouth all over your cunt. To feel his tongue licking into you, deep and slow. To feel his lips wrapping around your clit with light sucks.

The closer Jeongguk gets to your pussy, the harder it is to keep still. He smiles as you squirm and you can feel it in the juncture of your inner thigh where his mouth has strayed. It’s not too long before he gets back on track, kissing his way to your pussy till his lips are tucked between your plush folds and the tip of his tongue is circling your clit.

Your mouth drops open in a silent moan as you sit up, resting on your elbows to watch him. Just the sight of him is enough to make the first surge of heat curl in your belly. He’s got his eyes closed, lashes sitting pretty on the highs of his cheek as he licks at you. Cleaning you up and making a mess of you all at once.

“You look so pretty,” you whisper as you card a hand through his hair, pushing the stands off his forehead and out of his face.

Without stopping his tongue, Jeongguk glances up at you, his eyes half-lidded and hazy. He moans pleased and happy into your pussy. Only pulls away for a second to whisper a cute ‘thank you’.

His tongue is busy and so are his hands, running them up your body. When he gets to your tits, he’s harsh. Digging in and squeezing with palms that are just as greedy as his mouth. He uses the hold he has on them to pull himself closer, push his tongue deeper. The harshness of his touch makes you hiss, the hand you have in his hair tugging.

Jeongguk’s eyes roll back a little before he loosens grip, squeezing your tits once more, gently this time, as an apology. Then he’s smoothing his palms along your waist till one’s wrapped around your thigh and the other’s resting on your tummy.

He pulls away briefly to look at you, offering a sheepish grin before he pecks just above your slit. The hand he has on your belly absently fiddles with your bellyring.

“Sorry,” he says, “I just– I don’t know, I didn’t notice how rough I was being.”

You hum while you rest your feet on his back and wiggle your toes.

“I think I’ve just been wanting you for so long…” He turns his head and nuzzles into your leg by his head, his hair tickling the sensitive skin. “And now that I have you, I–” His lips graze your inner thigh with every word and when he’s at the softest part, he bites gently.

On a sigh, you ask, “You what?”

Resting where his teeth just were, he tilts his head, looking up at you. “It’s hard for me to control myself. I just– can’t get enough of you.” His words are said with a sigh and uttered in between roaming wet kisses.

After he promises he’ll be more careful with you, he begins to lick broad stripes over your cunt. When you spread your legs wider, you can feel the flat of his tongue against your clit. But it’s just slightly, just a brush of his tongue.

“My clit,” you moan, looking down your nose at him, “Play with my clit.”

He hums, pulling back a little. With your legs parted so wide, your pussy lips are spread just enough for him to see the little bud. He watches you as he uses the very tip of his tongue, flicking repeatedly over the sensitive spot just under your hood.

Your brows pinch and your legs twitch as they naturally try to inch close, the feel of Jeongguk’s tongue so good and so much that your body is already on the verge of being overwhelmed.

“Ah– yeah, like that, Gguk,” you sigh letting your head roll back, basking in how good he’s making you feel, “Keep licking my pussy like that.”

Your eyes lull shut while you let him make you feel good, and it’s then that you notice his hand on your tummy is still toying with your piercing. It’s distracting only for a moment, only before you realize that every time he does something to your clit with his tongue, he does the same to the dangly part of the jewelry with his fingers.

When Jeongguk circles your clit, he twirls the charm. When he licks up and down over your clit, the little heart gets flicked too. When he suctions his lips and sucks your clit in and out of his mouth, he tugs gently on your belly ring.

You can’t be sure if he’s doing it on purpose. One part of you thinking the patterns match up too well for it to be unconscious, the other part thinking it could just be an absentminded coincidence. You also can’t be sure why the nuanced touches are making the pleasure in your gut curl so tight; burn so hot.

“Gguk– you’re gonna make me cum again…” you drone, lustdrunk.

He smiles while his tongue continues to lick lightly. “Am I?”

While looking down your body at him, you nod. Your body already pulling taut with the tension that always preludes your orgasms.

Jeongguk’s lips wrap around your clit and he gives a quick sucking kiss before he pulls away with a little pop! sound. “Not yet, I’m not done cleaning you up.”

Groaning, you throw your head back. “You said you weren’t gonna tease anymore.”

“I did,” he confirms, his big palms finding the backs of your thighs and pushing them back, “But not so you could cum– so I could clean up your mess–”

“Your mess–”

“Our mess,” he amends, the tips of his fingers straying to the newly exposed parts of you. Jeongguk brushes over your hole, and you suck in a small gasp. “You’re messy here too, baby.”

Whining softly, you squirm as Jeongguk presses light, sucking kisses into your skin and there’s a subconscious urge to close your legs to keep him from getting where he so clearly intends. At the first signs of subtle hesitance, you feel his hands hold your legs open more firmly

“Let me?” he breathes, “Please?”

And something about how his voice is so soft –hazy and dreamy and full of so much lust and desire– has you relaxing, giving in. Docile and pliant in his hands.

You suppose some things may never change.

The first feel of his tongue tasting you where no one has before makes you exhale a shaky sigh. Your hole puckering under the featherlight licks he gives. When he circles the cinched muscle, your mouth falls open and you look down your body and between your open legs to where Jeongguk already has his eyes on you.

His eyes get little puffs under them when he sees your reaction and smiles. The confusedly pleasured pinch of your brows. The tense way your hands grip the sheets under you.

Giving your cheek a quick peck, he asks, “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

It makes the memory of him –hot and hard and leaking with your tongue on his hole– flash in your mind. It reminds you that he knows what he’s doing to you, that he knows he’s making you feel good because you made him feel the same way. Sure the anatomy’s different, but a tongue is a tongue and a hole is a hole.

In lieu of being difficult, you answer him with a moan; with your head hitting your pillows again.

That’s confirmation enough for Jeongguk as he echoes your moan with his own. He wraps his lips around the tight muscle in a nasty wet kiss and then drags his tongue up and along your leaking center till he’s at your clit where he plays until he works you into a whiny mess.

You’re tensing, and he can feel how your body shifts as your chest expands with the deep breaths you’re taking. Like you’re trying to focus and keep yourself earthbound by delaying the impending high.

It’s a high that’s inevitable though, and you have a warning on the tip of your tongue only for it to go to waste when Jeongguk makes his way down again as soon as he senses it.

And he repeats this– alternating between rimming you tauntingly and eating you till he can tell you’re right on the edge. You can feel how he smirks and you’re sure it’s amusement that you can hear prettying up little noises he purrs. His continuous teasing has you letting out barely contained whiny keens.

But Jeongguk can tell you’re doing your best to behave. The brattish way about you from before is nowhere to be seen. Not even when he feels your body slump for the nth time, panting from another almost-orgasm he takes away.

“You’re gonna cum aren’t you?” Jeongguk wonders aloud, pulling back a little to see how your pussy clenches in anticipation.

He hears you swallow, flicks his eyes up to watch as you bring a hand up to tug a little at your hair. It trembles a little as you bring it down to his locks.

“I- yeah… just… please…” You tug, pulling him to your clit by the crown of his head and holding him there with both hands. “Just stay there, please…”

You can’t help the way that you start to roll and grind against his face. Jeongguk’s lips and his tongue rubbing against you repeatedly with the up and down motion of your hips, and his nose bumping your clit a little every now and again.

His hands dig into your waist like he’s trying to pull you closer, suffocate himself with your cunt. It’s when he shakes his head with subtle little side to side motions over your clit that your pleasure peaks with your legs shaking before they’re closing around his head.

You cum hard and quietly, hushed ‘don’t stop’s and ‘keep going’s tumbling from your lips as you hold his mouth against you until you can’t take it anymore. You use one hand to pull him away by the hair, your other coming down to press against your still pulsing pussy.

With the hold you still have in his hair, you deliriously guide and maneuver him upwards. You’re still trying to catch your breath, so the quiet awed, ‘Whoa…’ you voice sounds airy

The position you’ve got Jeongguk in now has him straddling you across your upper torso with strong thighs caging you in. His cock bobbing a little right in your face. Heavy and flushed, the tip an angry shade of pink and shiny with precum. It’s instinctive when you reach out with your small hand to wrap around the base. And again, something awe-filled tumbles from your mouth.

“You’re so hard…”

The words float past your lips in the form of a breathless whisper, your lashes fluttering as your gaze jumps from his cock to his face. Your hand strokes lightly, just your fingertips running over the warm, silky skin.

“Missed you,” Jeongguk says with a tiny, unabashed shrug. As if that’s explanation enough for the state he’s in.

He smiles with his bottom lip tugged between his teeth and you smile back.

The pad of your thumb rubs at the underside of the crown when a drop of precum leaks, massaging it in messily. “Can I use my mouth?”

“Mhmm,” Jeongguk sounds, not trusting his voice enough to not shake.

You begin by placing weighted kisses along his length, starting at the base till your lips pucker around the slit. The heady taste of precum makes you purr, moaning softly. Jeongguk’s hips cant forward, and when you glance up you can see how his head has rolled back.

Smiling at how affected he already is by the smallest things, you run your teeth over the sensitive head. You anticipate the hiss that Jeongguk sucks in. Your tongue swirls around to soothe and to taste before your mouth opens to swallow.

The tip of his cock barely grazes the back of your throat before Jeongguke is pulling his hips back and choking just slightly on the whiny gasp that gets caught in his throat. He threads a hand in your hair and tugs you off.

Your forehead is resting against his lower tummy, and you giggle a little before you kiss at the slight jutting of his hipbone. His cock throbs, and he groans.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, smiling into him.

You can feel his fingers massage lightly at your scalp, and when you glance up at him, he’s looking down at you, lovesick as he rolls his eyes at your playfully.

“Go slow, okay?” he asks softly, “Tease me a little?”

Closing your eyes briefly as you let the sound of his moonstruck voice wash over you, you kiss sweetly at his hip once more before giving small kitten licks to the warm, flushed skin of his cock. He sighs like he’s in love.

“Like this?” you ask, coquettishly.

Jeongguk nods when you look up at him with your mouth open and the tip of your tongue flicking lightly.

“Lick the tip,” he whispers while he gets a hold of himself and guides it to your mouth.

You keep your eyes on him as you slowly drag the flat of your tongue with long licks.

“Good… that’s good baby…” he says airily.

Jeongguk glances down his nose at you for just a moment longer before his head is rolling back, and he’s moaning. His little sounds are quiet, but they’re almost constant. And you’re really not doing much, just licking softly at his frenulum, but you can already feel how his cock is getting stiffer, can see how the muscles in his tummy tense and untense… like he’s already getting close.

Kissing the crown, you pull away, stroking over him lazily. Squeezing at the base when he kicks in your palm. “Already?” you ask gently.

Jeongguk’s eyes are squeezed shut, like he’s trying to keep his composure, but at your choice of words, he laughs lightly. “Yes, already,” he tells you, pointedly. “That’s why I said to go slow.”

Slow is good for you. Slow lets you take it all in. Take all of him in.

Slow lets you tease drop after drop of precum out; lets you coax your name from Jeongguk’s lip over and over again until you’re sure you’ll hear his lovechants in your dreams tonight. Slow lets you memorize the way that his hands twitch wherever they touch you, how he gasps when your tongue does something that feels extra nice, how he whines when you bring your free hand up and roll his balls in your palm.

He’s a bit predictable, endearingly so with the blush on his cheeks as he urges the hand toying with his balls a little farther back. You smile to yourself as you touch him, rubbing at his taint and taking a moment to just watch his face.

Jeongguk’s eyes are shut, mouth just barely parted. His brows pinch just slightly when you inch your touch farther back and the cinched muscle clenches briefly under your fingertips, before he relaxes. It’s light and hazy when he whispers, “Yeah, baby…”

The light circles you’re tracing around Jeongguk’s hole have his cock throbbing. You have to wrap your lips around the head to keep him still enough to taste and properly tease, sucking with tiny bobs of your head as you drink down everything he leaks.

“I– ___, oh my god–” Jeongguk pants, looking down at you, like he can’t believe you or your mouth, can’t believe how good it feels to have you again.

You hum, lips still wrapped around the tip of his cock as you smile up at him as best you can. His chest expands with a sharp inhale when you press your fingers a littler firmer against his hole.

“Want me to put them in?” you ask between the soft open-mouthed kisses you press to his cock.

The sound that Jeongguk lets out makes your kisses cease and has you sinking your teeth into your bottom lip. Your thighs rub together, and your pussy is needy between them.

Jeongguk’s never done it before, at least not fully and with someone else. But the thought alone is almost enough to make him finish. It would be a first for you and him, together. Something he’s been wanting, craving.

He’s still trying to get his thoughts in order when you prompt him with a patient, ‘Hmm?’.

“I- No, no–” he ends up saying, “Just– just play with me.”

It’s sighed, laced with lust and contentment. Having you right now, just playing as he said, is more than enough for him. The anticipation does feel nice though, hot and sweet like a whispered promise of next time. Jeongguk wonders if you’ll ruin him.

“You just want me to play?” you ask, “You don’t want to cum?”

And Jeongguk’s sure you will. Ruin him, that is. If you haven’t already.

Your voice comes out lovily teasing, and your hands stay busy while you look up at him, eyes big and so pretty. Lips glossy with spit, maybe a little bit of his precum.

“Not– not yet?”

Jeongguk’s voice sounds unsure in your ears, and his actions contradict his words when you bring your lips to his leaking tip. His hips roll forward seemingly on their own accord, the most sensitive part of his cock rubbing against your tongue that you’ve pillowed underneath the crown.

A choked little whine falls from his open mouth before his head is lulling back and his hands are coming to your hair. Humming, you suction your lips around the head and bring the hand you don’t have busy to his hips, urging him to keep rocking his hips, slow so you can keep the pressure from your tongue constant.

“Oh my god– baby… baby–” Jeongguk moans, his gaze back on you. His brows furrowed and arched up, his mouth agape.

Under your touch, you can feel his muscles tense. How his breaths come out huffed and strained. How he sometimes tries to pull his hips away before he pushes them in like he rethought it, maybe like he never meant to. How no matter how hard he tries to keep from doing it, the stalling pace of his hips picks up.

And you can tell he’s going to cum.

He keeps muttering these fucked out little whispers of your name, of baby, of my baby. Almost like they’re warnings, maybe pleas. But not pleas for you to stop, or tease him anymore. You can hear the difference, can feel it in the way he touches you. Can taste it on your tongue with every heavy drop of precum that he’s leaking.

It’s like a string snaps in him, when he groans something deep and dissonant and his hips stop all together and his hold in your hair turns almost painful as he uses his grip to work your mouth over his cock.

“Yeah,” he breathes, “Don’t fucking stop… Gonna make me fucking cum–”

His cock is throbbing in your mouth before he even finishes his sentence. Coating your tongue in so many thick, hot shots of white. You hum, moving your fingers from massaging his taint so that you can roll his balls in your palm.

Jeongguk’s hand is shaking a little when he brings it down to cup your face, when he gently pulls you off him. His cock still fat and bobbing with the aftershocks of his orgasm. He guides your gaze to his.

He’s bracing himself above you with his forearm against your headboard, looking down at you a little sweaty and so flushed. Chest rising and falling with deep breaths. He’s got a little smile on his face when he runs the pad of his thumb over the plump of your bottom lip. Your mouth opens instinctively. The little smile on his lips grows before he’s biting it down.

His thumb presses down on the fleshy muscle, and you naturally let your lips wrap around it.

“Good girl,” he says, softly.

His words are tangible, and you close your eyes and you smile as you just let the praise glide over your body. It’s almost like you can feel each letter press a kiss into your skin.

Jeongguk’s a copycat as he too presses kisses here and there while he resituates himself. Going from straddling your ribcage to finding his home between your legs. Until you manuver him once more. He’s still home, between your legs, but on his back with you straddling him now.

Jeongguk doesn’t complain at the manhandling. Just looks up at you, rubs little nonsensical patterns just above the creases of your thighs.

“Can we do it now?”

His laugh is bright and loud at first before he gets a hold of himself, but he’s still smiling as he lets his shining eyes and his hands wander. His fingertips trialing over your skin until his gets his hands to your tits. His thumbs flick over your nipples while he hums, amused.

“Now you have to wait for me to be ready again,” he tells you conversationally, still teasing you.

You pout playfully, letting your own fingers explore, tracing the line of ink where his sleeve comes to an end on his shoulder. “So boring, Gguk,” you jest.

He scrunches his nose at you. “Why do you think I told you, ‘not yet’?”

Rolling your eyes, you reposition yourself; less over his torso and more over his hips. “Well,” you start, lowering your pussy down to where his cock lays flat on his tummy, “Waiting doesn’t have to be boring.” You drag your cunt over his still plump, but not-quite hard cock.

One of his hands quickly jerks down to get a hold of your hips and stop your movements. He hisses..

He says something about how he never said it had to be boring as you reach between your bodies and get a hold of his half-hard cock. Goes on about how he literally just came and how he needs a second to recuperate as you bring the head to your wet opening.

“Can I?” you ask vaguely, interrupting him.

He doesn’t say anything more, just gives you the littlest nod and he squeezes his eyes shut while you squeeze him into you. He’s not there yet, but he’s still sensitive and its still a tight fit.

Jeongguk looks down his chest to where you’re sitting prettily on his slowly hardening cock. His eyes roll back slightly before he’s scrubbing one of his hands over his face. “You’re–”

“Did you watch our video?” you interrupt again.

Stuttering a little bit, and winching some, Jeongguk uses the couple of seconds it takes for you to bring yourself down to him, to think.

“No, felt guilty… tried to hold out completely but ended up giving in and thinking about you…” he says, his hands finding their place at your hips..

His answer isn’t what you expected but it still has you smiling softly, chest to chest, resting on your elbows, and playing with his hair. “And what did you think about?” you muse, words breathy and flirty.

Jeongguk’s eyes instinctively dart to your curved lips. “Your mouth.”

You scrunch your nose at him cutely as you ask, “On your cock?”

He gasps when you grind your hips just a little, the movement stiffening his cock up that much more. Jeongguk can feel his cheeks heat up as he shakes his head, the hands he has on your hips moving to your thighs and then back up, squeezing and making little chills crawl across your skin.

“On my lips…” he admits quietly, licking them. “Missed kissing you.”

With a heart that grows fond in your chest, you lean down and give what he missed. Jeongguk sighs into your mouth, melts underneath you. He cranes his neck and the kiss deepens, his tongue slipping in between your lips. It’s not until you having him moaning softly into your mouth that you disconnect from him and make your way to his ear.

“Thought about you too,” you tell him, “touched myself to the thought of you missing me; wrapping your hand around your cock with me on your mind.”

Jeongguk’s fingertips dig into the fatty part of your ass, latches his lips onto the junctre between your neck and your shoulder. He sinks his teeth in just a touch to quiet his moan.

The whiny moise that you let out precedes the, “I fanatasized about the way you would fuck me when you came back to me–”

“I wanted to, but I just felt so bad–”

“Shh,” you hush him, “Doesn’t matter now…”

You finally make to move your hips for real this time, but lifting them has you letting out a tiny hiss of pain that’s followed by a cute, airy laugh. “Almost forgot how big you are.”

Jeongguk’s heart was just tugging inside his chest but now his cock is throbbing inside of you. Even as he wonders if there’s been anyone since him.

But once you get over that first hint of pain, past the initial sting of him stretching and filling you up, the only wonder is how Jeongguk survived without you for so long.

The light from your blinds peaks through your hair; wild and messy and draping over your shoulder. The long strands almost act as a curtain, hiding you and Jeongguk away. Spots of sunshine come through here and there, and they hit different parts of your body as your body becomes his body. On the tip of your nose, over the curve of your breast, the tops of your thighs.

And Jeongguk’s knows he is so fucking lucky. Not because he gets to have you like this –warmed by his touched and sunlight– but because he gets to have it again. Because he gets another chance at having you at all, after fucking it up once already.

“Gguk,” you pant, “I feel so good right now.”

You’ve gone from bouncing on his cock, to griding on it, feeling his tip rub against the deepest parts of you. Your palms are flat on his lower tummy, and when he grabs your hips, helping you move back and forth on him, your nails dig into the muscle.

It makes him moan, quiet like the little sounds that you can’t stop making.

Jeongguk knows he was basically on the verge of tears just a second ago, but he is still a man and he can’t stop himself from asking, “Who’s making you feel so good baby?”

He can tell how fucked out and how close you are because of how easily you answer him. How being stubborn and bratty doesn’t even seem to cross your mind when you moan, “You, it’s always you.”

Pulling you to his chest and fucking up into your cunt is much sweeter than it probably seems. He does so to be close to you, to feel your chest against his, to feel how your body shakes as you get closer, to feel how you bury your face into his neck to try and muffle your moans and cries.

“Yeah–” you sob into his skin, “you’re gonna make me cum– please– please, can I cum?”

Your words come out staccato and irregular, punched out one by one by his cock as he fucks you faster. But Jeongguk doen’t say anything yet, just focuses on the slick sounds your pussy is making everytime he bottoms out, on the feeling of his cock sliding in and out of the slick, velvety heat, on how his fingers sink into your ass as he squeezes and tugs and pulls your cheeks apart to bury himself as deep as he can when he cums with you.

“Fuck, baby cum for me,” Jeongguk pants, his words a little rushed as he feels it all come to a head, “Cum all over my fucking cock while I cum in your pussy.”

You don’t say anything when you cum, and neither does Jeongguk. Both cumming with nothing but gasps. Your’s sounding sweet, almost awed, as you just let your cunt squeeze and contract around Jeongguk’s cock, almost like you forgot you could cum that hard. Jeongguk’s are more guttural as his cock throbs, pulsing with each shot of cum he pumps into your pussy.

~~~

“Your roommates are actually terrifying.”

The voice makes you smile, laughing sleepily, eyes closed for just a moment longer before you turn your head to see a dishevelleddly dressed Jeongguk, holding a single glass of water in his hand.

He shrugs off his blazer that he’s wearing over his briefs (you’ve helped yourself to his button up), and sits next to where you’re laying down. He nudges you his foot till you sit up and take the water from him.

It’s a content type of quiet while you both pass the glass back and forth, sharing. It only last for a minute or two before Jeongguk is clearing your throat.

“So… what happened to your plant, hmm?”

He must have seen the pitiful looking succulent in your living room when he went to get the water. And you know he’s just messing around and that he only said it to strike conversation and fill the silence, but still, it makes something ugly stir in your gut.

“You didn’t remind me,” you say, trying to literally shrug it off and give the topic a quick stop.

But Jeongguk is giggling as he says back, “Oh, so it’s my fault?”

“Everything is your fault.”

It’s snappy and said with enough bitterness that Jeongguk is physically taken aback. But then he thinks and then he softens.

“Hey,” he says gently.

You look at him, eyes swirling with a mixture of anger and hurt.

Jeongguk brushes a little bit of your hair out of your face as he looks you over. “I know,” he acknowledges quietly. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am, but I hope with some time, you’ll be able to see it.”

You frown a little before giving him a sad small smile and you bring your hand up to cup his cheek. He turns into the touch and gives your palm a soft kiss.

“I know you’re sorry,” you tell him, “I know you are and I forgive you –my head knows that but– my heart is still sad.”

Something about how you say it reminds Jeongguk of how young you are. But not in the way it did before. Not like your youth is a burden, or a red flag. It just reminds him that he needs to be careful with you.

“I know, and that’s okay… I know it’s going to take time,” Jeongguk gives you a sad, yet understanding shrug.

And for once, it’s a good thing that time does what time is meant to. It passes and it allows things to grow; for things to heal.

“Speaking of time,” you say, lightheartedly trying to change the subject, “How long do I have you?”

“As long as you want me.”

Jeongguk’s reply is met with the most underwhelmed, flat stare you have every given him. He snorts before he says, “Till tomorrow afternoon– I have to pick up Nari.”

His heart feels like it’s going to explode in his chest when he sees how your eyes light up at the mention of his daughter, at how you jabber on with questions about her. How has she been?, Is she talking yet?, Does she still have that narwhal?

There’s a chance that he might regret it, but there’s also a chance that he might not.

So he asks, “Do you want to come with me?”

~~~

However long Jeongguk said it takes to get to his ex-wife’s house, all those months ago, escapes you.

But right now, it feels like 10 years and 10 minutes all at once.

It’s dramatic, yes, how terribly you’ve been fidgeting in the passenger seat of the Mercedes. Even Jeongguk’s big, warm hand petting at your knee can’t quell the nerves.

It’s making the atmosphere tense, and you feel bad when Jeongguk sounds like he’s walking on eggshells when he tells you, “Thank you for coming with me, I’m really happy you did.”

You feel even worse when you respond with, “I don’t think I want to go to the door with you.”

The ever-soothing hand on your leg stutters for barely a second before continuing just as it was.

“That’s totally fine,” he assures you, eyes on the road and one hand on the steering wheel. “You don’t have to, but if you change your mind, you can. It is your choice.”

The hand squeezes your thigh reassuringly.

And it’s quiet for the rest of the drive. Until Jeongguk is pulling into an empty spot in the driveway of a very big, very nice house. Right next to a Porsche.

“Of fucking course.”

“___.”

“No, you’re right,” you say, raising your hands appeasingly, “You’re right, I shouldn’t even be surprised–”

Jeongguk interrupts you with his hands on your cheeks and his lips on your.

“Shut.” He gives you one kiss. “Up.” He gives you two kiss.

His affection makes the tension in your body dissipate and your shoulders slump. “I’m sorry.”

With his thumbs rubbing over the apples of your cheeks, he gives you a small, understanding, patient smile. Then he asks if you’re sure about not coming to the door with him because he is stupid.

You tell him as much as you reiterate how you do not want to go to the door and this time, Jeongguk is the one raising his hands in surrender as he exits the car.

Leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Should you get out of the car? Wait inside? Should you have brought Nari a gift? Will she remember you? What if she doesn’t?

When you hear a distant, familiar baby-giggle, you end up opening the door and standing between Jeongguk’s car and Dasom’s. You feel a little dumb until you hear the pitter patter of little feet on the brick driveway.

“I have a surprise for you Nana,” you hear Jeongguk sing cutely.

And you hear Nari gasp excitedly in response, even cuter.

As the pair get closer, you can see Jeongguk’s top half over the car, how his arm is swinging back and forth because of the tiny hand that’s holding his where you can’t see.

Nari is dressed in a black jumper dress with a long-sleeved heart-patterned shirt on underneath when she pops out from behind the car and next to her dad. Kept warm from the slight chill in the air by her knitted tights and her teeny-tiny ugg boots. She’s still round, but she’s gotten taller and you coo softly to yourself.

But Nari hears the little noise you make and when she sees you, she stops in her tracks. Her little bobble head looking between you and Jeongguk. Then she’s tugging on her dad’s pinky that she’s got a hold of.

“___!” she says as she nods towards you, like she’s letting Jeongguk know that you’re right there. She sounds sure, almost a little bossy. Doesn’t stutter even a second to remember you. Kind of like she never forgot you.

“Ah– what’s with the nodding missy?” Jeongguk tuts, then he looks at you and shakes his head exasperated yet amused.

Nari has the nerve to giggle, a big girl no longer brought to tears by her daddy’s scoldings. She looks up at him grinning before she shrugs, like she doesn’t know what got into her. As she raises her little shoulders, her free hand comes up too for emphasis. And gripped tightly in her little hand is her stuffed narwhal.

You’re happy.

~~~~~~~~~

aaaaand SCENE. omg heyyyy long time no see girlfriends <3 i hope that u think this was worth the wait but am debilitatingly scared that it did not meet ur expectations so i am hiding <3 im sorry for how long it took but it is here now n that is all my tiny hands have to offer!! i would love to know what u thought, so please do al the things: reblog, like, comment, send an ask~~ thank u for waiting for me and for reading ily muah :*

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tkaulitzlvr · 8 months

Note

2008 tom forcing reader to answer a call from her bf while they're secretly fucking, going faster and whispering dirty things in her ear as shes on call to tease her, making it harder for her to not to make any noise🤭🤭

btw I love ur writings sm, one of my fav writers fr😩

thankyouu😽🙏🏻

ANSWER IT - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: your boyfriend calls you at a pretty inconvenient time, but tom forces you to answer, and you have to disguise what is really happening, tom not making it easy for you.

content: smut

a/n: thank u so much anon! and oh my god this req is such a good idea, literally as soon as i saw it i knew it was gonna be the next one i write, and i had so much fun making this so thank u so much for requesting i hope u like it!!💞

come over, no one else is home. 10:47pm

i stared at the text message as it came through, the words looking back at me, contemplating on whether i should give in or not. my mind, the more rational, morally correct side of me, tells me that i should say no, reminding me that i have a boyfriend, who would be home from his business trip in just a couple of hours. but, the fact that my heart should have belonged to someone else had never stopped me before. my heart was more reckless, making rash decisions that spoke only for my impulses, not the part of me that felt guilty for what i had been doing for the past few months, completely unbeknownst to my boyfriend.

it was never meant to turn out like this, no. what was firstly settled as a ‘drunk mistake’ that my boyfriend wouldn’t have to know about became a sober fuck, one that happens at least once a week. i am hooked, unable to stay away from tom despite the constant nagging that reminds me how much of an evil person i am. but my guilty conscience is not strong enough to win me over, so i keep going back, completely addicted to the way tom feels, my boyfriend unable to give me the same satisfaction.

he is kind, loyal, loving. i don’t deserve him, really. he would come home from work every evening, completely oblivious of the fact that another man had been inside of me just hours before, intimate with me in the bed that we would sleep in every night - he knows nothing about any of it.

and it is this that reminds me that i should decline tom’s offer, my eyes still blazing into the phone screen as the message stares at me. i have a boyfriend, this is wrong. the voice inside of my head says, chanting it over and over, convincing me to make the right decision for once, instead of acting purely on desire. he would be heartbroken if he ever found out, he doesn’t deserve this. my conscience continues, on the brink of winning me over, the shame of what i have become sinking into me, nothing about this entire thing justifiable on my part. i can put a stop to this, do the right thing, all i need to do is say the word.

k, i’ll be over soon. 10:51pm

i sigh, a little embarrassed at my lack of self-control, knowing that tom has me wrapped around his finger, unable to decline his invitation. the blood is on my hands, staining my innocence, and i am far too into this to ever go back to the way things once were. i jump out of bed, rushing over to the mirror and inspecting my appearance. my makeup is a little messed up, so i take time fixing it, making sure i look perfect for tom, adjusting my hair after, removing any knots in at as it falls to my shoulders. finally satisfied, i grab my keys, leaving the apartment and locking the door behind me, making my way to the parking lot.

i unlock my car, climbing in cautiously, checking that my boyfriend hadn’t unexpectedly arrived home early before turning off my location on my phone, getting used to doing these things to avoid getting caught as much as i could. the car engine starts with a low hum, radio quietly sounding out in the background as i drive to tom’s house, the guilt soon fading away as excitement buzzes around me.

the familiar house comes into view, but i park a little further down the street, not wanting to make it obvious that i was there in case my boyfriend did find out where i was. the street is dark as i climb out of my car, locking it before quickly walking towards his house, checking behind me and knocking on the door.

tom opens it within a few seconds, smirking whilst looking me up and down, moving to the side and giving me room to walk in. he shuts the door behind him, not wasting any time as he pushes me forcefully against the wall, attaching his lips to mine.

“missed you.” he mutters into the kiss as i whine a little in response, already too into it to give him a proper answer, but judging by the way his hands travel down my back, squeezing my ass firmly, it doesn’t seem like he wants to do much talking anyways.

but i didn’t mind, our hookups strictly sexual, no romance behind them. sure, he would whisper things into my ear in the heat of the moment, but i knew that it didn’t mean anything, and i didn’t want it to either. despite betraying my boyfriend in the most evil way possible, i didn’t want to end things with him, somehow still feeling something towards him though he could never pleasure me the way tom does.

without breaking the kiss, tom’s hands hook around my thighs, lifting me upwards as i instinctively wrap my legs around his waist, our lips moving against each other’s as he carries me to his bedroom, my hands locked around his neck, arms resting on his shoulders.

my back collides with the bed as he places me onto it, his hand flush against my back for support as he falls onto it with me, our lips never breaking, his body now on top of mine. he clearly doesn’t want to tease me, his hands finding the bottom of my hoodie, pulling it off and leaving it somewhere on his carpet, leaving me in only my shorts and small pink bra. he smirks at my lack of clothing, drinking it all in whilst his fingers play with the waistband of my shorts. he takes them off too, seeing that my panties match the bra, his tongue moving to the corner of his mouth.

“all this for me, hm?” he smirks, moving my thighs apart and leaning downwards, cupping my breasts in his hands, squeezing them slightly as i let out a small moan, blushing at his words and nodding my head. “i bet he doesn’t touch you like i do, get you to put in all this effort for him.”

tom continues to taunt me, the mention of my boyfriend causing my heart to wrench, guilt settling in my stomach as it is enough to remind me how much of a bad person i am. but, the second tom pulls his t-shirt off, revealing his toned frame, adorned with muscle in all the right places, his abs on full display, any thought of my boyfriend is long gone, my eyes and mind only focused on what is in front of me - the view admittedly far better than anything he could ever give.

tom reconnects our lips, his tongue entering my mouth, hips beginning to grind against mine at a torturously slow pace, hands moving to swiftly unclip my bra. i start to become impatient, fingers toying with the waistband of his jeans as i scramble for the button, undoing them as his zipper follows. he sees that i am struggling, tugging them down himself and letting his boxers come off with them.

he moves my panties to the side, not even bothering to pull them down, before sliding into me, a long moan escaping from my lips as i feel him stretch my walls, already feeling so full.

“so fucking tight, always so good.” he mutters, his forehead against mine, his breath tickling my nose as he speaks, a choked moan sounding from his lips as he is fully inside. he waits a second, studying my expression, gauging that i am okay as he almost pulls out fully, before slamming into me unexpectedly.

my breathing is heavy, body glistening with sweat as i hold onto him, my hands raking down his back as his pace speeds up, becoming more fast and relentless. i am so far gone, in too much pleasure to even process anything that is happening around me - including the sound of my phone beginning to ring.

tom, however, notices immediately, picking it up from the bedside table whilst still thrusting into me, my eyes following his movements as i am too lost in ecstasy to ask what he is doing. he turns the phone, showing me who is calling. my eyes widen as i shake my head, signalling for him to put it down, not wanting him to stop.

“answer it.” is all he says, passing the phone to me, one hand on my hips, helping him to move in and out of me easier, whilst the other holds the phone to my ear. he accepts the call, smirking as my boyfriend’s voice can faintly be heard.

“baby? hey, uh, i just got home from work. where are you?” he asks, tom nodding his head, gesturing for me to speak. a knowing smirk spreads across his face as he speeds up his thrusts, my teeth sinking into my lips to prevent a moan that is dangerously close to spilling from them.

“h-hey love.” i pant, trying to sound nonchalant, failing miserably as i feel tom hit my g-spot, a muffled whine sounding from the back of my throat.

“what are you doing? you okay?” my boyfriend asks, his tone laced with confusion.

“sorry uh- my back is sore, the usual.” i manage to get out, quickly closing my mouth as tom stares into my eyes, enjoying the way i struggle, showing no sympathy as he only drills into me faster. “i’m- i’m at my mom’s house.”

the excuse is terrible, tom furrowing his brows once i utter the words, making me realise how unbelievable it is. but, he finds my lack of thought amusing, smiling a little before resting his head in the crook of my neck, planting rough, open-mouthed kisses there. i sigh out in response, quickly covering my mouth as i mentally curse my self.

“your mom’s place? what are you doing there? it’s like nearly midnight.” my boyfriend responds, clearly hesitant to buy my excuse.

“yeah, family emergency. i-i’ll…be home in the morning-” i have to stop my speech, pursing my lips shut as a moan is dangerously close to sounding from them.

tom smirks against my neck, goosebumps forming on the skin whilst his lips curve into a slight smile.

“look at you. getting fucked whilst your boyfriend is on the phone.” tom mutters, his voice low as he makes sure that his words can’t be made out through the phone. “so wrong. but you love it, don’t you, hm? fucking slut.”

tom continues to taunt me, paying attention to the way i bite my lip, or place my tongue on the roof of my mouth, even squeeze his upper arms, anything to stop any noise from coming out of my mouth, desperate to stay undetected.

“what? is everything okay?” my boyfriend asks, showing concern as he tries to extend the situation, much to my annoyance, unable to keep this up for much longer, wanting nothing more than to cry out in pleasure. “should i come-”

“no!” i quickly say, a little harsher than i initially intended to, the utterance a mix of desperation and an attempt to hold back a moan, the combination coming out as an abrupt plea. “i mean- she, she’s just…a little overwhelmed.”

tom begins to kiss the skin below my ear, biting at it gently, knowing this spot drives me crazy, and once i shiver a little, he knows that he has me right where he wants me, changing his thrusts a little as the new angle causes a familiar knot to build in my stomach.

“could he make you feel like this, hm? only i can, right baby?” he whispers, knowing the effect that he has on me, no need for me to verbalise it, the way my eyes screw shut at his movements enough to confirm it. “so needy, letting me do this to you whilst he can hear. if only he knew…”

his words against my neck combined with the new angle makes the urge to moan almost unbearable as i bite down onto tom’s shoulder, a low grunt escaping his mouth at my unexpected action. yet it only fuels his stamina as he chuckles under his breath, enjoying the effect he has on me, the thrill of the entire situation turning him on even more.

“oh, just, let me know if you need anything okay? i love you.” my boyfriend says, finally wrapping up the conversation as i sigh in relief, feeling at ease as i have somehow managed to pull this off.

but tom clearly isn’t satisfied with how i have managed to stay quiet, desperate to get some sort of noise out of me, and, he knows exactly how to do that. one hand still holding the phone to my ear, he moves his other downwards, using it to rub circles on my clit whilst thrusting in and out of me. and that is all it takes for a restricted moan to leave my lips, unable to be mistaken for anything else. i know that i am in deep shit.

“what the fuck was that? what’s going on? are you fucking someone?” my boyfriend asks, his voice raising as he has finally picked up on what is going on.

“w-what? are you crazy? of course not!” i quickly say, panting through my words, no longer able to hide it, knowing that i am completely fucked.

“don’t fucking bullshit me! where the fuck are you? i can’t believe this, you’re fucking cheating on me? i swear to fucking god once i find-”

his furious rambling is cut off as tom ends the call, turning my phone off and throwing it somewhere on the bed, his hand now running up and down my waist.

“i did you a favour. he was fucking annoying anyways.” tom breathes out, a satisfied grin tugging on his lips, only faltering once he reconnects them with mine, the hurt of what had just happened never sinking in, tom’s movements more than enough to make me forget.

requests are open! keep sending them in!!

#tom kaulitz #tokiohotel #tom kaulitz x reader #kaulitz #tom kaulitz smut #kaulitz twins #tomkaulitz #tom kaulitz angst #tom kaulitz fluff #bill kaulitz

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clerc16 · 2 months

Text

gorgeous lies

summary: is it a gorgeous lie, or is it just a dreadful truth?

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings: a little angst, open ending i guess? cursing, mentions of a rocky relationship

Normally, you didn’t think about the concept of soulmates. It didn’t cross your mind. Until you met Charles; and that changed your whole perspective.

He was always there with you, for you; and you were always there for him. That’s just the way it was.

Relaxing days off were a necessity in your relationship. Calm days spent tangled between white, crisp bedsheets while small, sweet nothings were whispered and short stories were shared. Both of your lives seemed to stop once these days occurred - you were only thinking about each other while the world went on with their lives.

Honesty was very important, too. Both of your promises and words were always fulfilled. It was like an unspeakable vow; it was never really officiated but it was known.

Well, that’s what you thought anyway.

That’s what you thought, until the day you mistook Charles’ phone for yours. You tried unlocking it, but you realised that the Face ID didn’t recognise your face until it was too late.

“mate just tell her u should take a break. it’s better than to lead her on when u don’t even portray ur real feelings” read the text message. You didn’t even know who it was from - maybe Pierre, maybe Joris, maybe Arthur or Lorenzo - and frankly, you didn’t care.

You left as soon as you could. No explanation, no reasoning.

“my love, is everything ok? i’m here if u need me” Charles’ text said. You read it over so many times you memorised it. The fact he easily called you my love when he was unsure of his feelings. The way he easily made you believe him even when he didn’t believe himself.

The way you were so unbelievably attracted to him, like two opposite ends of a magnet, and all that just shattered.

Seconds turned into minutes, minutes turned into hours, hours turned into days. And Charles’ phone never got a notification that you responded.

Naturally, he came over to your house after two very long days. When you saw him on your doorstep, you wanted to slam the door in his face. But you didn’t. Instead, you ‘invite’ him in.

“Are you here to lie to me again?” You stammer. His eyebrows furrow as his eyes look deep into yours.

“What?”

“Or are you here to tell me we should take a break?” You continue. His face contorts as he finally understands what you’re referring to.

“My love, it wasn’t what it looked like-” he begins, but you cut him off as you laugh.

“Don’t my love me right now. I’m not stupid. I’m not a child. Just... get it over with, Charles. Please, just go.” You respond, your voice cracking.

Hearing the evident pain in your voice as it cracked caused his heart to crack, too.

And without another word, he was gone. Forever? Possibly.

Days dragged on like years. Days were spent crying; out of sadness, out of guilt, out of regret. They blended into one another but each one of them stuck out, sharp as a pin.

The one day that stood out the most, though, was the final day of a devastating week. Friday.

A knock on your door caused you to groan as you forced yourself off the couch.

“Is this Ms... L/N?” The man at the door asked. You hummed shortly.

“I have a delivery for you,” he says with a small smile as he places a huge bouquet of your favourite flower on your front door. You thank him as you drag it inside.

You weren’t stupid. You knew it was Charles.

Attached to the flowers was a note. You sighed as you opened it and began reading.

“Y/N,

I promise, none of this was a lie. Well, maybe some of it. But none of it was negative, I swear. It may seem like it was all a lie, but it wasn’t. Everytime I called you my love or told you I love you wasn’t a lie. None of it was. Please give me a chance to explain. I owe you an explanation, please let me do it.

I love you, I swear.

- Charles.”

You sigh once more as you fold up the note, the decision already clear in your mind.

thank you for reading! i hope this was worth it, please don’t be a ghost reader :)

#charles leclerc #f1 #charles leclerc x reader #scuderia ferrari #f1 x reader #f1 x you #charles leclerc imagine #formula 1 #charles leclerc x you #fanfics

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blippymilk · 4 months

Text

Clay Headcannons (Romantic)

Genre: Fluff, Romantic

Warnings: None

A/N: I love Clay so much so I genuinely enjoyed writing this 🤗

✩ The best boyfriend you could ever ask for hands down

✩There’s quite litteraly no one like Clay

✩ You fell first but he definitely fell harder

✩ Words of affirmation + physical touch kinda guy

✩ In the beginning of your relationship he’s not very touchy especially not in public

✩ But once he gets attached it’s over 🫡

✩ Always has to be touching you in some way

✩ Hand holding, waist hugs, neck kisses, and anything else you can think of

✩ Even when he’s working in his office he doesn’t mind you sitting on his lap as he works

✩ You had to be the one who could convince this man that it’s ok to be serious AND fun sometimes

“But what if people think I’m too silly again? My fun boy Clay days are over.” :((

“But there’s also nothing wrong with having fun from time to time too sweetie.”

✩ Wasn’t very open to expressing his emotions before he met you

✩ You had to let him know that it was ok to rant to you (and he’s still adjusting but he’s way better at it now)

✩ Please join his sad book club ok >:((

✩ Best dancing partner. EVER.

✩ If you’re at a party with Clay and there’s a dance floor

✩ Everybody getting left in the dust. Including you after a period of time 😭

✩ This man has past experiences with his boy band so he never lost his moves. If you can push him out of his comfort zone for the night, he’s gonna end up the center of attention.

✩ Clay’s not no mean troll, but he will got to war for his s/o and that’s a fact

✩ He can be very extra without realizing it, especially with the little details (bcs that’s just who Clay is :D)

✩ Don’t let him catch you singing any of his Brozone songs (especially his part). He will be all over you for the rest of the day, teasing you and kissing every inch of your face until no area goes untouched

✩ Wanna get Clay flustered? Tell him he has a beautiful voice and you love to hear him sing

✩ Will 100% start humming to you before bed

✩ You’re the reason Clay started to let up and not focus on working 24/7, 24 hours a week. And Viva noticed that (and she thanked you for helping him relax bcs she’s tired of seeing him stress)

✩ But also please thank him for working so hard to become a licensed CPA. He loves the sound of his job and loves to hear you say it too.

✩ Definitely the big spoon when it’s time to get comfy at night. Being so much taller than you, he likes to consider himself “the one in control”

✩ Loves when you play in and take care of his hair like your own.

✩ Loves a good relaxing “spa” (self care) day. A day where you two, and ONLY you two get to sit back and treat yourselves. Facials, hair care, bubble bath, back massages, etc.

✩ Viva made you a matching sweater romper and you put it on for Clay. Let’s just say that was the best decision ever.

✩ Just like you do for him, he appreciates everything you do. Like no matter what it is, he supports you and he’ll be there every step of the way.

✩ You never have to worry a day in your life about Clay cheating, or finding “someone better”

✩ One time during whatever the situation was that had you guys dancing, you spun away from Clay and a new girl quickly replaced you for him to dip her. And he let her go as soon as she even slightly tilted.

“Clay, why did you drop her?!”

“She was kinda close to me and I don’t know how you or I feel about that to be honest.”

✩ (dw he apologized after)

✩ Clay can be really serious. Or really, really, really, reallyyy, corny. 😐

“Babe, did you know my favorite word is universe? Because it starts with U-N-I.”

“Are you wifi? Because I’m tryna hook up.”

“I heard kissing is a love language. Tryna start a conversation?”

“Are you my grades as a kid? Cause your bad AF.”

“Oh my gosh- CLAY-!”

✩ Overall Clay is an amazingly sweet well rounded man

✩ Never lose him

#trolls band together #clay trolls #trolls clay #trolls #clay #clay x reader #clay Headcannons #headcannons #brozone #brozone x reader #trolls x reader #fandom #romance #fluff #request #hope you like <3 #clay x reader trolls

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bingwriterxo · 11 months

Text

sisters, sisters

pairing: tara carpenter x reader, sam carpenter x reader

summary: in which two people ask you out, and you make a decision

warnings: none

word count: 2800+

author's note: here she is! definitely more tara-centric, but that's ok!

Tara (8:43 pm): come over. now.

Mindy (8:44pm): u good T??

Chad (8:46pm): On our way

Tara (8:47pm): doors open

Tara (8:47pm): let urselves in

* * *

It was a madhouse in the Carpenter-Bailey apartment when Mindy and Chad arrived. There were pillows strewn all over the living room; plant pots had been knocked from their places on the back table, leaving scatters of dirt across the floor; the corkboard that usually hung next to the doorway to the kitchen was on the ground; and, to top it all off, Sam and Tara were arguing at the top of their lungs with a very stressed-looking Quinn in between them, her arms out to keep the sisters from jumping at one another.

“Thank god you guys are here!” Quinn said when she caught sight of the twins walking through the front door. “I don’t know what to do with them!”

Tara and Sam didn’t seem to hear the redhead--or chose to blatantly ignore her--as they continued their screaming match.

“She was my friend first, Sam!” Tara shouted.

“So?! That doesn’t mean you have dibs on her!” Sam yelled.

“Woah!” Mindy exclaimed, interrupting the two. They turned their sights on her, anger raging behind both of their eyes. Mindy would’ve been intimidated--scared, even--if she didn’t know that the two were harmless (unless, of course, she was wearing a black robe and a stupid Halloween mask). “First of all, you can't call dibs on anyone,” she said, like it should have been obvious to the sisters, which it should have. “Second, what the hell is going on here?”

Sam sighed, pressing the heel of her palm to her forehead. Tara clenched her jaw and balled her hands into fists; she was clearly the more aggravated of the two.

“Sam’s a bitch,” Tara seethed.

Before Sam could respond, Chad butted in. “Guys, come on. Why don’t we just sit down and have a nice, calm talk?” he suggested, gesturing toward the couch.

“Please,” Quinn agreed, falling into the armchair. “I can’t play mediator anymore.”

“Fine,” Tara huffed. She sat on the couch, tense, and crossed her arms over her chest as Sam did the same on the other end, and though she was more relaxed than Tara, she made sure to leave enough space between them that a large elephant could fit.

Mindy and Chad made their way to the center of the room, staring at the sisters. The air was thick with tension, and Mindy rolled her eyes when neither Sam nor Tara made the first move to speak.

“Okay,” Chad started, “so what’s wrong?”

“Didn’t I just say what’s wrong?” Tara snapped. “My sister’s a bitch.”

“T,” Mindy said sharply. “This is supposed to be nice and calm. No attitude.” She looked at Sam, hoping that she would be more cooperative considering the fact that she was older and, usually, the more reasonable of the two. “What’s going on?”

Sam inhaled deeply. “I tried to talk to Tara earlier, and she completely blew up at me.” She gestured around the room. “As you can tell.”

“Oh, that’s not fair!” Tara complained. “Tell them what you told me.”

“All I said was that I want to ask Y/N out on a date.” Sam shrugged. “I didn’t really think it would be a problem, but I know all of you guys are closer to her than I am, so I wanted to tell Tara before I did anything.”

Chad hummed, confused, and Mindy furrowed her eyebrows. “And, Tara, why is that a problem?” she asked.

Tara mumbled something beneath her breath, and everyone leaned closer as though it would help them hear her. She glared at the group, sighed, and then rushed out, “Because I want to ask Y/N out.”

Mindy’s jaw dropped, Chad’s eyes practically popped straight out of his head, Quinn made a noise akin to a surprised baby, and Sam let out a soft, “Oh.”

It was silent for a moment, and the tension somehow seemed to thicken. Tara fidgeted uncomfortably beneath the eyes of her friends, shifting where she sat and playing with the skin around her fingernails.

“It’s not that big of a deal guys,” she finally muttered after the silence became too much. It snapped everyone from their thoughts, and they all started talking at once.

“We just didn’t know--”

“I mean, I had no idea--”

“You never said anything--”

“I can’t believe I didn’t realize sooner--”

They spoke over one another until they realized that nothing they were saying was intelligible, and when they stopped, Mindy took the lead. She knelt down in front of Tara and took her hands in her own.

“You never told us you were into girls, T,” Mindy said.

Tara shrugged. “I just didn’t think I had to do the whole ‘coming out’ thing. I wanted to be able to bring a girl home, preferably Y/N”--she glared at Sam, who huffed--“and say, ‘This is my girlfriend’ and have that be it.”

Mindy nodded. “Okay. Fair enough. Then we won’t make this a big deal.” She stood. “But we still have the pressing issue to deal with.”

“I can’t believe you guys both like the same girl,” Quinn said, a teasing smirk on her lips. Everyone looked at her with narrowed eyes; she was not helping the situation. “What? This is fucking hilarious!”

Chad shook his head. “Anyway…” He inhaled deeply. “What’re we gonna do? You can’t both ask Y/N out. I think the girl would combust.”

Mindy snapped her fingers and pointed at her brother. “No, I think you’ve got an idea there.” She turned to the women on the couch. “You two should both ask Y/N out. She’ll only say yes to one of you, and this whole thing will be solved.”

“So, we both ask Y/N out…and she chooses?” Tara asked, unsure of the idea of even letting her sister have a chance.

Mindy tilted her head and shrugged. “Well, yeah. I mean, we can’t choose for her. Just…don’t do it at the same time, or on the same day. Chad’s right: she probably would combust if that happened.”

“What about the person she says no to?” Sam asked.

Quinn spoke up. “They’d have to suck it up and accept that Y/N doesn’t like them that way.” She shrugged. “This really is the best way to solve things.”

“What do you think?” Sam asked as she looked at Tara.

“I have a feeling you’ll ask her out even if I say no,” Tara said.

Sam shrugged. “Yeah, probably.”

Tara bit the inside of her cheek, unraveled her hands, and held one out. “Fine. We’ll both ask Y/N out. When you get rejected, you’ll forget you ever thought about her in a way other than friendship.”

Sam scoffed and rolled her eyes but still reached out to shake her sister’s hand. “Whoever gets rejected will forget they thought about Y/N in a romantic way.”

Tara hummed. “Deal.”

“Deal.”

“See?” Mindy said. “That wasn’t so hard!”

Chad fell onto the couch between the sisters. “So, how’re you guys gonna do it?”

* * *

“I just don’t know what to do, JJ,” you said with a sigh, falling back onto your bed. You held your phone above your face so that you could see your best friend on FaceTime. “I mean, she’s so funny, and she’s smart, and she really cares about me--I can tell.” You could feel your cheeks heat up at just the mention of her.

JJ furrowed her eyebrows. “So, what’s the problem? Ask her out, stupid.”

“I can’t.” You bit your bottom lip. “It would mess up…everything.”

“It would only mess things up if she says no, and from the way you talk about her, she’s not gonna say no.”

“No, you don’t get it. Even if she says yes, it would, like, destroy the friend group, and I don’t want to do that. I love these guys. Obviously, they don’t compare to you, but they’re pretty decent people otherwise.” You dragged your free hand down your face and groaned, your stomach dropping at the thought of losing the friends you had made at college. “I hate having feelings for people.”

She chuckled. “You just need to learn to not have feelings for people you’re friends with.”

“Wait until you meet her,” you said. She’s fucking perfect, you thought. “It’s easier said than done.”

“I still think you should do it.” JJ shrugged. “If these people are really your friends, they won’t let your guys’ relationship get in the way. They’ll be happy for you, probably, since you won’t be pining over her anymore.”

“I’m not pining over her!” She gave you an ‘are-you-sure-about-that?’ look. You rolled your eyes. “Okay, maybe I’m pining over her a little bit.” Her face didn’t change. “Okay! A lot!”

She smirked victoriously, and you sighed. “That’s what I thought.”

“I hate you, you know that?”

“You love me--”

JJ was interrupted by a sharp knock on the front door of your apartment. You sat up and furrowed your eyebrows, confused. No one’s coming over today, right?

“What is it?” JJ asked.

“Someone’s at the door.” You shrugged and glanced back at her. “Probably one of my roommates’ friends--” The knock came again, harder this time, and you groaned. “I should get that, I guess. I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Yeah. Talk later.”

You shuffled out of your bedroom and to the front door, peeking through the peep-hole. You couldn’t see much beside a head of brown hair and the tint of tan skin, and your heart sped up.

Is it…?

You whipped the door open, grinning from ear to ear, but your smile faltered as you saw who stood in the hallway.

Sam.

She looked up at you, smiling the way you were just seconds ago, her eyes shining with an emotion you couldn’t read. “Hey,” she said.

“Uh, hi,” you said, voice a little too high with disappointment. You cleared your throat. “What’s up?”

Sam shifted on her feet, tucked her hands into her jacket pockets, and swallowed hard. “Could I come in?” she asked.

You could tell she was a little nervous--she was never usually so fidgety--so you nodded and opened the door wider, gesturing for her to step inside. You shut the door behind her and spun around, watching her expectantly.

She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. She opened her mouth, like she was about to say something, and then closed it again. It was starting to make you anxious—seeing someone so confident and sure-of-herself suddenly reduced to nothing more than nerves. You were going to speak up, ask her what was wrong, but you didn’t get the chance as her question tumbled from her lips.

“Would you want to go on a date with me?”

Your eyes widened in shock, mouth falling agape as all of your limbs suddenly felt frozen. You watched as Sam began to shrink in on herself, and a pang of sorrow struck deep in your chest.

“I--I--” you stammered. You inhaled deeply and regained your thoughts. “Sam, I’m sorry if I ever gave you the wrong idea…but I don’t like you that way.” Her face fell, and you frowned, hating yourself for having to hurt her. “I’m sorry.”

She took a shaky breath and shook her head, eyes glancing down. “It’s fine.”

“Sam--” You reached out, wanting to offer her some sort of comfort, but it felt wrong if it were to come from you, since you were the reason she needed comforting in the first place.

“It’s okay, Y/N.” She looked at you again and tried to offer you a small smile. It fell flat. “Really, it is.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “I hope this doesn’t change anything between us. You’re a great friend, Sam, and I’d hate for that to be any different now.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah. No, yeah, of course. Nothing’s gonna change.” She shifted again. “I should probably get going.”

“Okay.” You moved to open the door, then paused and looked at her again, anxiety hitting you like a train. “You sure we’re okay?” You didn’t want to lose her, not because of this.

Her features softened as she took you in, picking up on the turmoil coursing through you. “I promise. We’re fine.”

You sighed. “Okay.” You opened the door and watched as she started to leave. She was halfway down the hall when you called out to her. “You really promise?”

She turned around, chuckled softly, and offered you a smile. “I really promise.”

* * *

Even though Sam had double-promised that things were okay between the two of you, and had made good on that promise by inviting you over for dinner with the rest of the group later that same night (to which you had lied and claimed you were busy), you still found yourself wallowing in your bed for the next few days, the image of Sam’s upset-face burned into the backs of your eyelids. You hadn’t even been the one to be rejected, yet you still felt sorry for yourself--sorry that you had to hurt a friend, sorry that you couldn’t like her back, sorry that you had been wishing it was her sister.

You were in the midst of your new daily routine--watching TikToks for hours on end while tucked beneath the comfort of your favorite blanket (that Tara had gifted you for your birthday just a few weeks prior)--when Mindy’s face suddenly appeared on screen, her contact picture sticking its tongue out at you.

Your thumb hovered over the decline button, more than tempted to press it and let yourself fall back into the monotonous routine of scrolling, but the longer you stared at Mindy’s photo, the more you knew you couldn’t avoid her.

“Hey,” you croaked as you answered. Your voice was rough, your throat sore from not using it.

“And where the hell have you been?” Mindy asked quickly, her voice loud over your speaker. You cringed slightly at her words and tried to bury yourself deeper into your mattress.

“I’ve been, you know…around.”

She hummed. “Yeah, okay. Well, I thought I’d give you some sort of heads-up because Tara is on the way to your apartment right now.”

You shot up, holding the phone close to your ear. “What?! Why?!”

“That is a question I cannot answer!” she said.

“Mindy, what--”

Your phone clicked as she hung up.

Almost immediately, there were soft knocks against the front door of your apartment. You scrambled out of your bed, grabbing a pair of sweatpants and a random sweatshirt from the floor and throwing them on, not bothering to check if they matched.

“I’m coming!” you called out as you walked toward the front door, your head stuck in the armhole of your hoodie. Fucking hell, you thought. Pull yourself together. Once you could finally see again, you pulled the door open and inhaled sharply at the sight.

Tara stood in the hallway, a shy smile on her lips and a blush painting her cheeks, making her freckles stand out even more than usual. One of her arms was outstretched, and in her hand was a bouquet of flowers, waiting to be taken by you.

“Hi,” she said, and just her voice made your heart skip a beat.

“Hey.” You opened the door fully and she slipped inside.

She pushed the flowers further in your direction. “These are for you.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh!” You took them from her, your fingers brushing over her own as you did, and a jolt of electricity zipped up your arm. You tried to ignore it as you said, “Thanks, Tar.”

“Sure.” Her voice was shaking slightly; well, she was shaking slightly.

“Why did you--”

“I want to take you on a date,” she said suddenly and all at once, like she wouldn’t have been able to say the words unless they fell out of her mouth in a jumble.

Deja vu washed over you, sending a shiver down your spine, and all you could get out was a soft, “What?”

Tara tried again, her words slower and more calculated. “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to take you on a date.”

You swallowed, your brain short circuiting, and, in your stupidity, asked, “What about Sam?”

She raised her eyebrows in surprise, unsure of how to respond. “Uh--” A beat of silence passed between you before she found something to say. “Sam’s okay with it. She doesn’t--she doesn’t mind.”

“Oh.” You nodded and glanced down at your feet, suddenly too aware of the way the seams of your socks were resting against your toes. A blush was forcing its way up to your ears in embarrassment. What about Sam?! you thought. You fucking idiot! Who says that? “Cool.” Jesus Christ.

Tara clicked her tongue. “Yeah.” She shoved her hands into her back pockets. “So, about that date, then?”

She was watching you with wide, hopeful eyes, and the softest of smiles, and, god, you just wanted to fall into her.

“Yeah,” you said, nodding. “Yeah. A date--that sounds good. That sounds really good.” Just shut up, me! You offered her your own smile, watching as she lit up with excitement and joy and--Would it be weird if I kissed her right now?

Tara bit her lip as she grinned, her dimples prominent. “No, I don’t think that would be weird.”

You paled. “Did I--Did I say that last bit out loud?”

She giggled and nodded. “Yeah. Kind of.”

“Oh.” You gulped. “But…it would be okay?”

“It would be more than okay.”

And then your lips were pressed against her, and she sighed into you, and neither of you thought about the flowers that were being squished between you.

bonus: jj <;3 (10:59pm): u done pining yet?

you (11:06pm): shut the fuck up.

#tara carpenter x reader #tara x reader #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter #melissa barrera x reader #melissa barrera #scream 6 #scream 5

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tyonfs · 2 years

Text

high-waisted shorts

❝ i noticed you staring at my ass earlier, by the way. do you want me to get my shorts out of the way so you can get a better look? ❞

PAIRING ▸ huang renjun x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ smut, fluff, crack, college au, strangers to lovers au

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, alcohol consumption, sexual tension, teasing, dirty talk, one night stand trope, fingering, palming, oral (fem. receiving), more oral (m. receiving), choking, raw sex (pls use protection), in this society we make important decisions with rock paper scissors, copious amounts of anime references, ft. jaemin, hyuck, and jeno tormenting poor renjun

SUMMARY ▸ huang renjun might be the least committed to all this “bitch hunting” bullshit, and he doesn’t want to stoop to the level of stupidity his friends are at. that’s why he’s pissed when you’re strutting around in those high waisted shorts wherever you go, making renjun lose all sense of reason.

PLAYLIST ▸ like by bts • cravin by danileigh, g-eazy • 23 by chase atlantic • sparkle by radwimps

WORD COUNT ▸ 7,850 words

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ first installment of the bitch hunters series !! wrote this while i was angry bc my discord got hacked and i was furiously typing LOL but hope u enjoy ♡

THE FIRST TIME HUANG RENJUN LAID EYES ON YOU, HE FELT LIKE A SINNER.

He wasn’t religious by any means, but some force in the universe had to be frowning down on Renjun for the way he was staring at your ass. His housemate, Donghyuck, had thrown a party at their house for the sole purpose of meeting new girls, and Renjun found this whole thing absolutely ridiculous. His roommates were dead-set on finding a girlfriend this year, and they had taken it to the extent of creating a contract to detail the rules of their “bitch hunting.”

On the other hand, Renjun thought he could find love naturally, so he wasn’t too keen on indulging himself tonight.

However, looking at the way your shorts were riding up whenever you jutted out your hip, Renjun felt like he could let go for a night.

It had been ages since he hooked up with someone. The last time was probably during his second year of college. For his third year, he was committed to just passing his classes and trying to figure out what the fuck he was going to do with his life. Now that Renjun was in the final stretch, he supposed he could take it easy on himself and get his dick wet.

“You’re drooling.” Renjun looked over to fellow bitch hunter Na Jaemin smirking at him, handing him a red solo cup with a shot of tequila (or, more like a shot and a half because Jaemin sucked at measuring drinks). His best friend slash housemate added, “Go talk to her.”

“What?” Renjun asked, startled. “No, no, I’m not trying to hook up with someone.”

“I said talk,” Jaemin reminded. “You’re the one who said hook up.”

Renjun balked. He stared at his triumphant-looking friend for a moment before downing the tequila in his cup. Warmth spread to his chest in seconds, and he was starting to feel the self-control in his brain fog over. Renjun liked the feeling of being drunk; it allowed him to stop caring about stupid things, like talking to pretty girls in high-waisted shorts.

“You know what,” he grumbled, “fine.”

But, sometimes, it also made him do stupid things, like walking over to talk to pretty girls in high-waisted shorts.

“Hey,” Renjun greeted when he approached you. You were standing alone at the kitchen counter for a while, eyeing all the drinks spread out. “Are you liking the party?”

You turned to him and shrugged. “I guess. My roommate brought me here, but I don’t know anyone except her, so it’s kinda awkward.”

“Who’s your roommate?”

You looked over your shoulder and pointed to a girl with short hair. “Minjeong. She knows Jeno, I think.”

Renjun snorted. He recalled Jeno and Minjeong having a thing for a brief period. Since the walls were rather thin and Jeno wasn’t exactly quiet, he vividly remembered the filthy words he heard from his housemate’s room. Renjun would routinely kick the wall to shut Jeno up. In fact, he was doing Minjeong a service by rescuing her from a man who played League of Legends.

But Renjun didn’t know Minjeong had a roommate—and a hot one at that. He regretted not encouraging Jeno’s hookup to come to more of their parties.

“Well, now you know me,” Renjun said and held his hand out for you to shake. “I’m Huang Renjun.”

You giggled and took his hand. Yours was so much smaller than his. Maybe Renjun was thinking too much about how nicely his hand fit with yours. Maybe he was taking too long to shake your hand.

He realized this once you started talking and he was still clutching on.

“I’m Y/N,” you introduced, and the little glint in your eyes made Renjun wonder if you were charmed. That was a plus for him; Renjun wasn’t terrible with girls, but he never made such strong first impressions. “What brings you here, then?”

“I live here, actually,” Renjun answered with a grin. He noticed you glancing at his cup, so he set it down to pour a shot for you in another cup. “You’re at my party, and I have no choice but to socialize. My friends would probably drag me out of my room if I tried to ditch.” He held out the cup to you, and then paused. “You’re not a lightweight, are you?”

“Why would it matter if I’m a lightweight?” you asked with a coy smile, taking the cup in your hand.

Renjun shrugged. Maybe it was the liquid confidence spurring him to act bolder, but he could hardly believe the words that came out of his mouth next.

“Maybe I wanted to give you a room tour.”

To his surprise, you laughed, delighted. “A room tour?” you asked. “Sure, why not?” You set your cup down and grinned at him. “Also, I can handle my liquor just fine.”

Renjun lifted his brows, amused. He slid his hand into yours and led you to the staircase, a small smile playing on his lips. He hadn’t expected you to agree so easily, but perhaps you both were experiencing a surge of adrenaline that made you want to do anything and everything.

If Renjun was Jeno or Donghyuck, he would’ve had to ask you to wait outside for a minute. Thankfully, he didn’t live like a slob and wasn’t ashamed of his living conditions. He kept things neat and tidy, and the only thing he probably had to worry about was his lotion and tissue box being right next to each other.

He hoped you wouldn’t pick up on that detail, though.

“Nice room,” you complimented when he opened the door. You looked around curiously before walking in, and Renjun headed in after you. “Do you normally bring girls up here like this?”

“Only the cute ones,” Renjun said, leaning against his door frame. “Do you normally follow guys into their rooms like this?”

You shot back a knowing smirk. “Only the cute ones,” you echoed, and Renjun wondered if he had died and gone to heaven.

He wasn’t on his A-game right now. It had been years since Renjun got laid, and the only reason he was functioning in front of you was because the tequila made him a smidge less over-analytical about everything he said.

“I noticed you staring at my ass earlier, by the way,” you added shyly, even though nothing about you seemed the least bit shy. Renjun wished the ground would swallow him whole. Before he went on a tangent about how he respected women and their bodies and started to apologize profusely for making you uncomfortable, you walked right up to him and continued, “Do you want me to get my shorts out of the way so you can get a better look?”

Clearly the universe had monumental plans for his dick tonight.

Renjun swallowed thickly and shut the door with one hand immediately. The booming music from downstairs grew more muffled, and he returned his attention to you once he locked it.

He was presented with the opportunity of a lifetime, so he let his hormones take over and cupped your sex. Through your shorts.

Granted, the material was rather thick, but Renjun could feel your core pulsate through the fabric, and it drove him crazy.

“Fuck,” he growled when you started grinding your hips against his palm. “You’re so fucking hot.”

“More,” you begged, desperately rocking your hips to get as much friction as possible. Renjun smirked at how you clung onto him. “Want more.”

“Yeah, ‘course you do,” he mumbled, adding more pressure to his slow, torturous hand motions. Renjun walked you back so that the back of your knees were hitting the bed. “Can I take off your clothes?” You nodded in response but Renjun just grabbed your chin with his free hand and ordered, “Use your words, Y/N.”

You giggled a little, off-beat. “Go ahead,” you responded, looking at Renjun with newfound excitement.

Renjun’s lips found the junction of your neck and shoulder, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses as he undid the front of your shorts. It felt like ages since he had done something like this, but it felt so natural for Renjun to rub your dripping slit with two fingers. Slow, torturous motions of his fingers, and then you were whimpering and squirming under him, begging for him to put his fingers inside of you.

“Patience.” Renjun chuckled, tugging your shorts down until they were at your ankles. You arched your hips to help him take off your underwear along with it. The sight of your bare cunt made Renjun a weak man. “Holy fuck.”

His fingers returned to rub your slit, and when you were drenching Renjun’s fingers with your arousal, he decided it was high time for him to give you what you wanted. He made direct eye contact with you as he slid his fingers inside of you, and the way your breath hitched and face contorted made Renjun nearly lose it.

He hadn’t even put his fingers all the way in and your walls were clenching around him. Renjun fought down the groan that dared to slip—simply from how tight you were around his digits.

“Jesus,” he grunted out, “you’re gonna feel so good around me.”

“You’re gonna give it to me?” you asked in a breath, and your tone was bordering on hopefulness and surprise.

“Yeah, of course.” Renjun’s eyes darkened when he coupled his fingering by planting his thumb on your clit, relishing the broken moan that escaped your lips. He had to use his free hand to manhandle your hips firmly to the mattress.

“S-sorry,” you apologized, and Renjun could tell you were trying your best to stop yourself from bucking your hips. He decided there was a simpler method to go about this, so he pulled his fingers away and scooted back. You frowned and looked over at him before whining, “Why’d you st—oh.”

Renjun held your hips down so that he could lick a long stripe between your folds, flattening his tongue once he got to your clit. He smirked at your reaction, proceeding to eat you out like a starved man. Renjun relished each moan and whimper that fell from your lips, barely audible over the muffled, booming music from downstairs. He was sure their neighbors would call for a complaint sooner or later, but nothing could pull Renjun from the intoxicating taste of you.

His motions must have been hitting the right places because you were squirming so much that Renjun had to grip your thighs tighter to remind you to stay still. He returned one hand to rubbing your clit in a steady motion as he ate you out, and he was pleased with how reactive you were.

A tingling flush spread across Renjun’s cheeks when your back arched against his bed, and he sucked on your ball of nerves a little harsher to coax you into your orgasm.

Then, he changed his mind.

You gasped when he pulled back. “I was so close!”

Renjun nearly laughed at how offended you looked before explaining, “I wanna make you cum on my cock instead.”

“Your cock?”

Renjun hummed. He wasn’t trying to edge you, but while he was going down on you, bringing you closer and closer to your release, he realized he wanted to see the look in your eyes when he brought you to your orgasm. He wanted to see how you fell apart because of him.

Exasperated, you hurried to sit up and maneuvered to get over Renjun, straddling his thighs and wrapping your arms around his neck. Renjun didn’t intend to imply that he wanted you to ride him, but he was liking this turn of events more and more.

“Wow,” he got out in a breath, hands ghosting your body with an awestruck look on his face. “You’re gorgeous.”

Your reply, though, was blunt. “I want you to go raw.”

Renjun blinked at you for a second. At first, he was indifferent about it and just supposed you had cut out the extra step of getting a condom from his nightstand and sliding it on. Then, he realized how unbelievable this situation was—unbelievable and incredibly sexy.

“Are you sure?” he asked, although he was beaming at your words. “I mean, we just met.”

“As long as you don’t give me an STD, I’m down.” You drew Renjun closer and scooted up higher on his lap. “Plus, Plan B is only six dollars at the health center.”

“I’ll Venmo you three,” Renjun replied, dazed as you tugged his pants down and palmed his bulge. He stifled a groan, gripping your waist tighter. “Y/N—fuck.”

You had already rid of Renjun’s briefs, tracing the underside of his head once his cock sprang free. He found it awful how turned on he was by the way you eyed his size, so Renjun did the one thing that kept clouding his head and he pulled you into a fervent kiss, drinking the pink lemonade smirnoff right off your tongue.

Dizzying. Hazy. Intoxicating.

There was so much shuffling as Renjun kicked off his pants and underwear properly, adjusting his position so that you could ride him properly, but the both of you couldn’t pull away from each other’s lips.

“God,” Renjun growled out against your lips when you raised your hips to lower yourself onto his throbbing cock. He drank in the way your face contorted and your thighs twitched as you tried to take him in. After much easing and filthy words that Renjun whispered against your skin, you finally took him fully. “Good girl,” he praised, smirking at your whimper that followed his words.

He broke from the kiss to help you. Renjun held your hips firmly, guiding your movements so that you could ride him at a steady pace. He grunted at the way your walls clenched around him, and he was already so, so sensitive.

“You’re h-huge,” you stuttered, screwing your eyes shut when Renjun’s hand moved up your body, caressing each curve and dip. “Oh my god.”

His hand moved up to grope your tits through your shirt, and before he tried to slip his hands under your shirt, he slid his hand further up to choke you instead. Renjun was delighted at how you sped up when he pressed lightly against the sides of your neck.

You placed your hand over his, much like someone admiring a diamond necklace would. Your back arched as you continued bouncing on his cock, your head thrown back with moans trapped in your throat. Renjun was a little disappointed that he couldn’t freely let you be loud, but watching you hold it in might have been even better.

Renjun’s breathing was ragged when he drew you close yet again, and though you looked fucked-out, you seemed to understand right away that all he wanted was to taste your lips again. Renjun kissed you with hunger, driving his tongue into your mouth to dance with yours in a desperate union.

“C-close,” you mumbled between kisses, and Renjun only smirked and deepened the kiss. Some twisted part of him wanted to keep you quiet against his lips as you came undone.

He fucked up into you as your motions became less coordinated and sloppy. Renjun’s heartbeat was drumming in his ear when he witnessed you fall into your orgasm, your walls clenching and unclenching around his cock so fast that he came into you right after. His grip on your neck tightened ever-so-slightly when you dared to moan louder, yet it only seemed to turn you on even more.

He pulled back and leaned against the headboard, absolutely spent. Renjun helped you off his cock, groaning at the sight of his cum leaking out of you.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Renjun said, wondering if you’d mind if he played with your clit for a while. He ended up doing so, and it was strangely domestic by how casual you were about it.

“Can I sleep over?” you asked, looking up at him through your lashes, and god, Renjun couldn’t refuse you when you were giving him those eyes.

“Need a shirt?” he offered.

“Yes, please.”

When Renjun woke up the next morning, you were gone, as expected. He rubbed his eyes and sat up, trying to figure out where the fuck his shirt was. Eventually, he gave up on his search and threw on a sweater that was strewn over the head of his chair.

There was an acrylic nail laying on the pillow next to Renjun. He snorted at the sight. Cinderella left her glass slipper behind for the prince; you left your acrylic nail.

He chucked it in the trash, deciding that he would rather get rid of the nail instead of making you feel embarrassed for letting it get caught on the fabric. Maybe he was a little upset that you hadn’t even left a note behind, but it wasn’t like Renjun was expecting to meet the one at a house party. Hell, he wasn’t even as dedicated to his housemates’ “bitch hunting” antics as they were.

He trudged downstairs to make himself a bowl of cereal. Renjun forgot how tiring sex was, though the post-orgasm haze was always nice to bask in. Coupled with drinking last night, though, he craved something to scarf down so that he could regain a sense of his bearings.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Donghyuck greeted. He was sipping a cup of coffee next to Jeno in the kitchen. “Jaemin told us that you were getting some last night.”

Renjun grimaced. He recalled how he could never keep his hookups private because someone would snitch on him to the rest of his housemates. This invasiveness was something he never got used to.

“Maybe, maybe not,” he answered vaguely. “I doubt I’ll ever see her again.”

“Is she not cuffing material?” Jeno asked. “C’mon, you can’t be fucking around when we’re supposed to be getting girlfriends.”

Rich coming from the guy who screwed your roommate.

Renjun grabbed his Frosted Flakes from the shelf and opened the other cupboard to get a bowl. He promptly ignored Jeno so that he wouldn’t let some crucial information about your identity slip. He would’ve rather kept you on the down-low, so that his housemates wouldn’t mess with the both of you.

The last time Renjun had a crush on a girl, it resulted in both him and Kim Yerim being incessantly teased. Jaemin did everything in his power to make sure Yerim’s bottle landed on Renjun when they played Spin the Bottle at a party in freshman year. He even to the extent of shoving Jeno out of the way so that the bottle was closer to Renjun.

“I don’t know,” Donghyuck started, “Y/N seems like girlfriend-material to me.”

Well, that secret lasted for all but five seconds.

The shock must have shown on his face because Jeno burst out laughing immediately, Donghyuck following suit and slapping Jeno’s arm playfully. Renjun shook his head and returned to pouring his milk and cereal in the bowl, trying to ignore how obnoxious his friends were.

Keyword: trying.

“Ow!” Jeno winced when Renjun jabbed his side.

“Dude, for real, though,” Donghyuck started, “we’ll help you out if you really like her.”

“Don’t make it such a big deal.” Renjun tried to wave it off with a dismissive hand gesture, and his friends shrugged in response. “I don’t even know her that well.”

“You don’t want to get to know her?”

Did Renjun want to know more about you? Well, he was probably addicted to the taste of your lips and the way you looked underneath him, but he hadn’t had too many conversations with you to gauge whether he was interested in more. However, the way you looked in those high-waisted shorts did make him a touch curious about seeing you again.

“Nah,” Renjun lied coolly. “Forget it.”

Renjun couldn’t get you out of his fucking head.

Well, it was pretty hard to do so when he discovered you sat right in front of him in his aerospace thermodynamics class.

In those damn high-waisted shorts.

It was another pair this time—white with the hem fringed. Renjun couldn’t even focus on the lecture about the Carnot Cycle when he kept getting vivid flashbacks to the previous night. Your lips dragging across his skin. His hands traveling up and down your body. Your nails digging into his back.

“... and those will be your pairings for the final project. Please come see me if you have any further questions, otherwise refer to the module,” Renjun’s professor finished.

He snapped out of whatever trance he was in to look up at the screen. Renjun scanned the document the professor had pulled up with a list of names, running down until he saw his name right next to yours.

This had to be a joke. It was something straight out of a movie. Some shitty rom-com where the two main characters slowly fell into a pure relationship through a forced partnership, but there was nothing that was pure between you and Renjun after what had happened last night.

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” Renjun muttered under his breath, nearly gasping when you whipped your head around to look at him questionably. “Oh. Hey.” He raised a brow before stupidly asking, “You come here often?”

“I’m a student here, so yeah,” you answered.

Figured.

You continued, “We’re partners.”

“We are,” Renjun confirmed, “so we’re gonna be working together for a while.”

A slow grin spread across your face, making Renjun swallow thickly. Your eyes shone with a mischievous glint, and your gaze dropped a little before drifting back up to look Renjun in the eye.

“I look forward to working with you, partner.”

“Yeah.” Renjun coughed a little. “Me too… partner.”

The first time you and Renjun met up to “work together” after exchanging numbers was exactly a week later. It wasn’t very productive, to say the least. You offered to start it at your place, and Renjun realized this was probably a bad idea, but it had to be 0.1% better than working at his house, so he obliged.

He realized that he had no idea what the project was even on until he was sitting in your living room, looking over your shoulder to see the project guidelines pulled up on your laptop.

“Which one of these do you wanna do?” you asked. “My concentration is aeronautics so I’m leaning toward the cooling method design one.”

“I’m astronautics.” Renjun snorted. “I like the jet propulsion one.”

Renjun and you stared at each other for a minute. He wasn’t sure how to diffuse this tension; he could kiss you, but the fire in your eyes made it clear that this was competitive tension, not sexual tension. Then, you held out your hand in front of you, balling it into a fist and placing it in the palm of your other hand.

“Let’s rock, paper, scissors this,” you decided.

Renjun raised a brow. “You’re using rock, paper, scissors to decide the outcome of our final grade in a major class?” he asked, and when you nodded, he shrugged. “Alright, let’s do it.”

“Rock, paper, scissors, shoot.”

1 Renjun, 0 Y/N.

“Rock, paper, scissors, shoot.”

2 Renjun, 0 Y/N.

Your face fell, and Renjun found it cute how distraught you were at the realization that you were losing at your own game. You were relentless, though, and held out your fist again.

“Best out of three,” you said.

“Even if it’s best out of three, I still win,” Renjun argued. “I literally won it twice.”

“I’ll suck you off if we can do the cooling method design.”

Renjun nearly choked on his own spit, coughing for a moment before he calmed down and tried to take your offer seriously. There was something ethically wrong about all of this, but only a fool would turn down a blowjob. At least that was what Renjun tried to convince himself of.

That was how the first work session went to shit.

Renjun was sitting on the edge of his bed, pants sagging at his ankles and head thrown back as you went down on him. He curled his fist in your hair, guiding your movements and admiring the way tears streamed down your cheeks as you deepthroated him.

He grunted, breath caught in his throat for a moment when your tongue ran along the vein on his cock perfectly, and without warning, Renjun was cumming down your throat.

You were panting when you finally pulled yourself off Renjun, having the nerve to tease his sore and sensitive head while your lips were wrapped around it. He tried to glare down at you, but he was too spent to do anything but catch his breath, leaning back on his hands.

“So…” You smirked devilishly. “Cooling method design, right?”

Renjun scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief, though he knew that one more bat of your lashes and he’d end up complying. Whatever spell you had him under, Huang Renjun knew he was royally screwed around you.

Renjun was puzzled.

You two had been working on the group project for a month and a half now, regularly going to each other’s apartments, but absolutely nothing was happening. By nothing, Renjun meant that you seemed to tame whatever aggressive sexual libido you had when you first met him. Now, Renjun was leaving your house bi-weekly with blue balls. It was torture.

That wasn’t to say that he didn’t enjoy your company. It was nice having someone to work with that wasn’t only productive but engaged in quality conversations. Sometimes, you went on long rants about your roommate problems, and at this point, Renjun was half-convinced that he knew more about Minjeong than Jeno did.

Later, when Renjun confided in Jaemin about it (why he chose to confide in Jaemin was beyond him, but at least the guy was useful for something), his roommate replied, “You’re in the talking stage, dude.”

What the hell was a talking stage? Renjun wanted immediate obsession.

“Renjun’s getting cuffed?” Donghyuck questioned. Before Renjun could respond, too dazed from Jaemin’s response, Donghyuck’s lips curled into a smirk. “Attaboy.”

“She got Renjun to watch anime with her.” Jaemin scoffed. “Can you believe it?”

“Which one?” Jeno chimed in. A pout settled on his roommate’s face. “You don’t even watch anime with me, Renjun.”

“I didn’t even agree yet!” Renjun defended, pulling out his phone with the texts from you as proof. “See? She just sent me a list of her recommendations. I didn’t even decide if I was gonna watch one of them yet.”

“Some of the summaries she wrote are concerning,” Jaemin said, looking over his friend’s shoulder to see the list. “Would you watch ‘girl gets in a car crash while she’s trying to save a loser god and her soul leaves her body sometimes to chill with the other gods’ or ‘gay volleyball players that are actually not gay and just have a wholesome friendship and play volleyball a lot’?”

“My personal favorite is ‘bad bitches gamble in high school,’” Donghyuck added. “Sounds heartwarming.”

“Don’t watch that one,” Jeno cut in with a serious tone, which was a refreshing change from the torment that Jaemin and Donghyuck were inflicting upon Renjun. “The two that Jaemin suggested are way better.”

Jaemin leaned in to whisper to Renjun and Donghyuck, “Jeno takes this stuff seriously. He even has a whole anime tier list.”

Unbeknownst to his housemates, Renjun had already done his extensive research on the shows already. He had looked up every summary and review for each show, and he already mentally selected the anime he wanted to start with. Renjun liked to reciprocate with these sorts of gestures; if someone was going to put in the effort for him, he wanted to show the same energy back.

So, the minute you sent Renjun that extensive text, he got right to researching the suitable anime to watch. He weighed all the pros and cons before coming to a conclusion. It was the only right thing to do after you put so much work into sending him that text.

(In reality, you probably only spent a few minutes typing it all out.)

“I didn’t choose either of those,” Renjun announced. “I’m going with Your Name.”

“My name?” Donghyuck asked stupidly, pointing at himself. “There’s an anime called Hyuck?”

“Yeah, it’s called the Goofy Movie,” Jaemin retorted.

“This is why you’re a piece of shit, Jaemin.”

“No, Your Name,” Renjun corrected. “It’s an anime movie, dumbass.”

“Is that on your tier list, Jeno?” Jaemin asked.

“Yeah…” Jeno trailed off, rubbing his chin as he tried to remember where he placed it. His eyes shone when it clicked in his head. “It’s in the ‘astronomically down bad’ tier.”

Well, fuck.

Office Hours for aerospace thermodynamics was held on Fridays at eight in the morning, and Renjun found that to be an abomination.

For one, he despised waking up at such an ungodly hour because every hour Renjun had to cut out of his beauty sleep meant a higher risk of breaking out. While it was such an easy task in high school, the few extra years on Renjun now seemed to be a burden on his body. He could barely drag himself out of bed without at least ten alarms that went off five minutes apart.

Secondly, the walk to campus was unbearable. It was too close for Renjun to take his car, but it felt like miles when he went by foot. He was always a sweltering mess by the time he got on campus grounds, speed walking to get into the first air conditioned building he could see.

But, now, Renjun had something to look forward to: you.

“You’re late!” you scolded in a whisper. Renjun was huffing when he approached you in front of the door to their professor’s office. He bit back a smile at how cute your fake-angry face was. “Did you run here or something? You’re all sweaty.”

Renjun rolled his eyes. “You sure know a lot about me being sweaty, huh?” This got a laugh out of you—one that Renjun had to sneak a look at through the corner of his eye, beaming at how your eyes lit up at his joke. He asked, “Is he talking to another student?”

“Yeah, he said he’ll be with us in ten,” you replied. “I brought my laptop so we can show him all the slides we made.”

“Perfect. That’s plenty of time,” Renjun said. Before you could ask what he meant, he pinched your inner thigh—a gesture that felt more endearing than sexual—and he started walking ahead of you. “Follow me.”

While you were tailing behind, hounding Renjun with questions, he was scanning the windows down the hall to see which classroom was completely empty. When he finally found one void of students and teachers, he opened it and grabbed your wrist, pulling you inside with him. Your questions ceased once you caught onto what he was suggesting.

“Cute shorts,” Renjun commented.

“You couldn’t take it anymore, huh?” You ran your nicely-manicured fingernails down Renjun’s chest, biting back a smile as he closed the door behind the two of you. “I know you’d cave sooner or later.”

Renjun’s mind went completely blank, like the static when tuning to a different radio station. Then, it dawned on him.

“You planned this.”

“Not completely,” you defended. “I knew you had a thing for me in these kinds of shorts, so I wanted to see how long I could wear them for until you finally exploded.”

“Oh my god,” Renjun breathed out. He cornered you against the wall, looking down at you in awe. He nearly popped a boner with the way you looked up at him with that coy smile. “You little devil.”

Renjun turned you around with no proper warning, pressing up against your back while your front was against the wall. You turned your head to the side as you gasped, trying to crane your neck to look back at him, but to no avail. Renjun reached down the front of your shorts and started rubbing you through your underwear—agonizingly slow.

His smile was a little unhinged as he palmed you, relishing the way you crooned and moaned because of his hand movements. Renjun loved the way you were arching your back against him, each stutter of your hips against his crotch reminding him of how he ached for you.

For some reason, Renjun could only think about ripping your clothes off and having his way with you. If he could, he would completely ignore Office Hours, but you seemed too adamant on attending. Something about getting those stupid slides approved. (Renjun could honestly care less with his 95% in the class, but he wasn’t going to gloat.) So, you rushed him through the foreplay, begging him to not make you two late for your meeting.

“Good girl,” he simpered when he had one of your legs wrapped around his hips, easing his cock into your walls as slowly as he could, all the while rubbing your clit with his thumb. “You’re so fucking tight.”

You whimpered. “I haven’t been fucked in months.”

“Seriously? Ever since we hooked up?”

When you nodded, Renjun felt like all the blood from his head rushed to his cock. He was a little lightheaded, but he was incredibly horny. He waited for you to adjust properly, and then Renjun settled for a ruthless pace, fucking into you so abruptly that your arms slung around his neck immediately.

He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips as he thrusted. You returned it immediately, eyes fluttering shut and melting into him. It was sweet and somewhat out-of-place given the magnitude of what you two were currently doing.

The feeling of your hands grabbing fistfuls of his hair and your broken croons against his lips was absolutely divine. Something about being so close to you coupled with the risk of being caught made Renjun feel so connected to you on levels he hadn’t felt before. He, for one, would never do something like this for someone who he was just hooking up with.

He was a man of reward, not risk. You, however, made him consider both.

“Oh! Right there!” you yelped one he hit that one perfect spot. You tried to quiet down your cries, but it was clearly not working, so Renjun did you a favor and clamped a hand over your mouth as he fucked you against the wall.

“Come on, love,” he taunted, “you better cum fast before we miss that meeting. You don’t wanna be caught, do you?”

Your eyes were glossy with tears rimming the waterline. Renjun nearly got lost in them, breath hitching when tears started rolling down your cheeks and your hips continued bucking up against his, begging for more contact. That was when Renjun realized you were on the edge, and he figured it out too late because one final thrust had you clenching around him and letting out muffled moans against his palm.

You spoke against his hand, almost inaudible because of how muffled your voice was.

“What was that?” Renjun asked, removing his hand.

“Don’t cum,” you clarified, hazy as Renjun kept thrusting into you like a well-oiled machine.

“Are you denying my orgasm? That’s kinda hot.”

“D-don’t make a mess,” you said, reaching up to grab his cheek. “We still have that meeting.”

“Alright, alright,” Renjun said softly, slowing his thrusts until he pulled out of you and tucked his cock away. He was still aching and hard as a rock, so he was going to have to take a quick bathroom break and have you stall the professor for time. “This isn’t just gonna be a monthly thing, right?”

“Bi-monthly?” you joked. Renjun snickered and nudged your shoulder playfully. “C’mon, I’d be stupid to not let that happen again.”

“Wanna come over tonight?” he offered. “Not… not to do our project. Let’s, like, actually hang out. We can watch one of your anime recommendations.”

You smiled at him. “Tonight? Yeah, I’d love to.”

“Y/N, I…” Renjun started, and when he realized what he was going to say, he cut himself off, shocked.

“What is it?”

He shook his head. “I have to go to the bathroom to take care of my little problem,” he mumbled. “Stall the professor for me, will you?”

You threw your head back and laughed—well, it was more like a cackle. It sounded kind of evil, and Renjun was a little miffed at the thought of you enjoying the thought of him suffering with blue balls.

When you agreed and fixed your appearance before you left, Renjun had to lean back against one of the desks and process what had just happened. It wasn’t the sex that he was so worried about, but it was the words that died on his tongue. The words he would’ve let fall from his lips if he had just a little less self-control.

I like you a lot.

“I think I’m gonna ask Y/N out,” Renjun blurted out that evening at the dinner table.

Jaemin choked on his cereal. Nobody asked why he was eating Frosted Flakes while everyone else was eating a proper meal; it was probably just a Jaemin thing. Renjun was more curious as to why he had a second box of cereal next to his bowl, though, like he was ready to devour both.

“You’re asking her out?!” Donghyuck asked, an excited glint playing in his eyes. Renjun knew that look all too well, and he was a little scared of it, but part of him wanted to believe it was genuine excitement from his friend.

“I like her,” Renjun admitted. “A lot.”

Jeno whistled lowly. “I didn’t think this day would come. Mark would be proud of you, Renjun.”

“I never needed Mark’s validation, Jeno, but thanks.”

“So, when are you gonna ask her?” Jaemin asked, spooning a bunch of cereal and milk into his mouth.

That was what Renjun was stuck on. He had no idea what “good timing” was, and he wasn’t sure if asking a girl out while watching anime was very romantic. Then again, he didn’t expect you to care too much about formalities like that.

Plus, it was clear that you had some feelings for Renjun. He could feel the mutual intimacy when he split you open, as odd as that sounded.

“Tonight,” Renjun decided.

(“Need us to leave the house? We can chill outside,” Donghyuck offered.

“No, you’re good,” Renjun told him, “and I’m saying this because I saw the binoculars in your backpack so please stay in your room, for the love of God.”)

Huang Renjun was meticulous.

Because of this, he actually watched Your Name before you came over. He didn’t pay too much attention to the plot because he wanted to get into it while you were by his side, but he noted the three ideal points in the movie to drop the question of the night.

So, when you knocked at his door, he was prepared.

“Hey,” you breathed out, and Renjun felt winded for a second because you looked absolutely gorgeous with your scarf pulled up to your chin.

“What’s up?” He rubbed the back of his neck and was starting to wonder if he wasn’t as prepared as he thought he was.

“I dressed up,” you told him. “Isn’t it stupid? I dressed up to watch anime.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Renjun replied, and he could hear miniature replicas of his roommates screaming in his head, telling him that he was fumbling the bag. So, he quickly added, “But it’s cute.”

Fumbled and saved. Renjun was too lucky sometimes.

“You think I’m cute?” you asked as Renjun opened his laptop to stream the movie. He was a bit distracted with entering his password in, but when he processed your question, he did a double take. You giggled at his reaction. “Well?”

“I mean…” He hoped his cheeks weren’t as red as he thought they were. “I guess so—yeah.”

He patted the space next to him on his bed before you could tease him any further. Renjun thought his heart would go crazy if you continued being so annoyingly adorable in front of him. So, he fixed his gaze on his laptop screen, only glancing at you when you slid into the sheets next to him and leaned against his arm. Renjun placed half of the laptop on your lap so that it was centered.

Normally, instances like these would result in a cuddle session. However, Renjun had to understand that you took your anime seriously, and that there would be nothing sexual or romantic happening while you two were watching the movie. He decided to buckle down and watch it seriously himself.

However, that resulted in Renjun missing all of the ideal points in the movie to drop the “will you be my girlfriend?” bomb. He wound up being so immersed in the movie, and he only realized that he had actually fumbled the bag when they reached the climax of the movie.

“This part makes me so anxious,” you whispered.

“Yeah,” Renjun replied bitterly. Thankfully, you didn’t have the mind to question why he sounded so indifferent. “Same here.”

When Renjun recalled the possibly romantic ending scene, he realized he had another chance to make things right.

Unfortunately, he got so distracted by the movie again that he completely missed the opportunity to ask you out. He was mentally scolding himself for being so out-of-character.

“Renjun,” you started, and he turned to you with a raised brow. “You look disappointed with the ending.”

“I’m not disappointed with the movie, I’m disappointed in myself,” he answered honestly. “The movie was incredible, really. Five out of five stars on Yelp.”

You gently touched his arm. “Why are you disappointed in yourself?”

“Because I wanted to ask you out!” Renjun exclaimed. God, he was stupid. He was so, so, so stupid, but the words were slipping out without any proper filter. “I picked out, like, three good moments in the movie where I could’ve popped the question, but I was being an idiot and missed them all. Jesus, this is so—”

“I like you, too.”

There was a feeling Renjun got sometimes when he was around you. It was when his chest felt fuzzy and his stomach kept dropping. He supposed it was what people described as “butterflies,” but Renjun despised butterflies, so he didn’t want to call it that.

But, here you were, laying your feelings bare in front of Renjun. He felt like the sun, Earth, and the moon had all aligned for this very moment. It was like a collision of supernovas in his chest, making him buzz and glow with the amount of inexplicable joy he felt.

You liked him. You liked him.

“You…” Renjun trailed off. “Huh?”

“I like you, stupid,” you insisted, punching his shoulder lightly. “Do I have to scream it in your ear?”

“I might be dreaming.” When you brought your lips to Renjun’s ear, he panicked and held you back by your shoulders. “Okay, relax, I get it. You like me back. Understood.”

You grinned. “Well, do you have something you wanna say?”

Renjun blushed. He couldn’t believe he could feel flustered to this extent, but you had a strange effect on him. When he regained his composure, he moved the laptop off your laps and turned to face you a little more.

“Y/N,” he started. “I like you a lot, so will you be my girlfriend?”

You smiled brightly and kissed his cheek. “Of course.”

Renjun looked you dead in the eye. “So, ready to seal the deal?” he asked.

“What deal?”

Renjun’s hand moved to hold the back of your neck, leaning down to pull you into a sweet kiss. He was surprised by how easily you fell into the rhythm, kissing him like it was the most natural thing in the world. Renjun pulled you closer by your hip, nearly going further until you placed your hands on his chest.

You pulled back for air, looking up at him with a glazed-over expression. He was definitely going to have to make this impromptu first date up to you with something more romantic, but, for now, Huang Renjun was too lost in your eyes.

“Up for a round?” you asked.

Renjun’s cheeks heated up before you handed him the game console. “Smash Bros. Right.” He took it from your hands and sent you a lopsided grin. “I’m gonna kick your ass.”

A grin spread across your face. “Don’t be too sure of yourself,” you chided. “Even though I’m your girlfriend now, I’m not showing you any mercy.”

Jeno groaned as he slapped a ten dollar bill into Donghyuck’s palm. The two of them and Jaemin had been eavesdropping on their best friend’s confession earlier, and they were glad for two reasons: one being that Renjun was the first bitch hunter to attain a bitch, and the second reason being that they didn’t have to listen in on them nearly fucking.

“Jaemin, I need ten dollars from you, too,” Donghyuck chided. “I said they’d get together within two months and they did, so I won this bet fair and square.”

“I was close enough!” Jaemin complained. “Three months was a pretty reasonable estimate.”

“But not the closest, so cough it up.” Donghyuck gestured for his housemate to place the money on his hand, and Jaemin reluctantly did so after much reluctance. “It feels so good to be right all the time.”

“I thought they’d get together in two weeks.” Jeno crossed his arms across his chest. “But, damn, Renjun was the first to get cuffed out of us, and he didn’t even care about bitch hunting.”

“It’s okay, boys,” Donghyuck assured, though his bravado was simply just boosted by his $20 reward, “all of us will find our respective bitches.” He glanced at Jaemin for a moment and made a face. “Actually, I’m not sure about Jaemin, but Jeno and I for sure.”

“Funny,” Jaemin replied bitterly, “I was just about to say the same about you, Hyuck.”

Jeno, sensing the tension rising between his two friends, grinned sheepishly and slung his backpack over his shoulder. “We should get to campus before we’re late, you guys.”

The other two agreed despite bickering the entire walk to the car. Jeno snickered at his friends, but all he could think about was how the heat was on now. Since Renjun was victorious a month and a half into the semester, Jeno knew that Donghyuck and Jaemin would be even more fired up to find their special someone. He, too, wondered when the day would come that he found someone that made him soft around the edges.

For now, though, Jeno could just enjoy listening to his friends banter back-and-forth.

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ huang renjun: no bitches to bitch attained >:) thank you so much for your patience with the first installment !! i can’t wait to write the rest <33 i wanna scream it from the top of the building bc i feel like that’s the only way i can truly show my gratitude but i deeeeeply appreciate all the love and support i’ve gotten on this series !! to think this was supposed to be for my 5k follower special and i’m at 6k now!! that’s insane???? i’m so honored that you guys choose to read my works so thank you thank you thank you and i hope you enjoyed the first installment! ♡ (p.s: i hope you caught onto the lil segway to jeno’s at the end :D)

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