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rinhaler · 5 months

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𝖗𝖆𝖛𝖆𝖌𝖊𝖉 𝖇𝖞 𝖙𝖍𝖊 ��𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖔𝖜

would you fuck your high school bully if you got set up on a blind date with him? if he was hot, probably, right?? ... right?

✧˖*°࿐: 18+ only, no minors. ✧. ┊ ex bully!rensuke kunigami x f!reader

Genre: porn with a plot Notes: a concept that has rotted my brain for weeks now. ty to @chososdoll for beta reading as per ♡ Warnings: 18+, alcohol consumption, pro player!kunigami, pleasure dom!kunigami, consent check, overstimulation ♡, multiple orgasms (duh!), pussy eating ♡, fingering, slight nipple play, dumbification, size difference, vaginal sex, dacryphilia ♡, enemies to lovers?, pool sex ♡, skinny dipping, morning sex ♡, wake up blowjob, shush kink?, praise, reader has pubes! (landing strip), calls your pussy 'she', bullying mention, pet names (baby, princess). Words: 15.1k

“This seems a little…”

“What?”

“Sad.” you laugh, repositioning yourself on the couch beside your best friend as you watch your fourth horror film of the evening. She tuts, but not before gesturing that she needed a refill on her wine. So, you reach over to the side table and start taking off the lid for her. “I don’t know. It feels a bit desperate, no?”

“No!” Maisie objects.

She can’t remember the last time she heard you gush about a guy. And honestly, neither can you. It’s been forever since you went on a date. And it’s been even longer since you got laid. You shake the thought away as you pour the red liquid into her empty glass.

You’re happy alone, for now, you think. It’s not like you feel lonely. Admittedly, it isn’t the best feeling when you have to listen to all of your friends talk about their date nights or cosy nights in with their partners. It isn’t the end of the world, though. Maybe happy is a strong word to describe how you feel.

You’re content being alone.

“I’m not saying you have to marry the guy,” she continues, lifting the wine to her lips when you finish filling her glass. “Just meet him. He’s so sweet, and he’s gorgeous!”

“You fuck him then!” you laugh. She takes the opportunity to flaunt her engagement ring that she hasn’t even had for a week yet. You roll your eyes, but laugh, grabbing her hand so you can examine it again. It is beautiful. Are you a bad friend? Because the stab of jealousy you suddenly feel is almost painful. “I’ve never been on a blind date. I didn’t even realise they were still a thing, why won’t you just show me him?”

“I promise he’s extremely sexy. Trust me, if I wasn’t engaged I’d definitely take him for a ride.” she giggles, and you laugh back at that. She has similar taste to you, so you’re sure you’ll feel the same way when you see him. It’s intimidating though. You’re putting complete faith in her that she won’t fuck you over. And then, you realise, you’re thinking about it as if you’ve already accepted. Maybe it’s a sign. You should just take the plunge. “I don’t want to tell you too much and spoil the fun, but—”

“I’ll do it.”

“Y- really?!” she wiggles a little closer to you in excitement, her wine sloshing in her glass as she approaches. “I’m gonna text him now! Eeeeeeek!” she squeals, putting her wine down and picking up her phone. You don’t think you’ve ever seen her fingers move so fast as she texts the mystery man.

You want to pry for more information, but you know her too well. She’s stubborn. And the blind date aspect for her is too exciting. There’s no use trying to get her to spill. Though it doesn’t stop you from attempting to extract even a slither of information.

“How do you know him?”

“He’s a client.” she pays you no mind, perfectly manicured fingers tap away at her phone as she formulates a text message.

You’re surprised, for multiple reasons. You hadn’t expected her to answer that truthfully, let alone with no hesitation. It came so easy for her to say; which means one of two things. Either, it’s true, or, she had a well-crafted lie prepared in case you asked that very question. But if it’s true… that’s interesting.

She’s a social media manager. And while her clients aren’t necessarily A-Listers, they aren’t exactly nobody’s, either.

“Oh my God, is he a footballer?” you smile, widely. She peers up from her phone and you find it hard to read her expression. She’s always had a good poker face, but you’ve known her long enough to recognise her tells. And when she licks her lips, you have your answer. “AH! Is he rich? Oh I bet he’s gorgeous, fuck, is he shredded? Like—”

“The horny jumped out!” she laughs, and you playfully hit her arm before laughing along with her. She doesn’t say anything else about it. Now, she is fully committed to the blind element of the date. “I’ll drop you off, I’ll tell him what you’re wearing so he knows it’s you. He said he’s free Thursday night, does that work?”

“Sure.”

“Great! So 9PM on Thursday.”

“Um…” you hesitate. Fucking 9PM? You know you aren’t that old, you’re in your mid-twenties for crying out loud, but that seems very late. You’re usually tired by 10 o’clock. But you refuse to risk her chastising you for being boring. So, you suck it up with a beaming smile, “Perfect.” it almost hurts to say.

She claps, enthusiastically, before picking up her abandoned wine glass again. You’re both silent, fixated on the movie. But you spot Maisie out of the corner of your eye finish her drink in a hearty swig. You don’t comment, though, still trying your damnedest to focus on the movie. It’s too late, though, you’ve missed most of the plot since she started plotting and preparing your upcoming date. You don’t dare break the silence, though. She looks utterly engrossed.

However your own attempt at concentrating is thwarted when you hear her glass land a little too harshly onto her coaster. It doesn’t smash, thankfully, but you’re both staring at each other after that.

“I haven’t got a fucking clue what’s happening in this.” she admits, and you laugh, agreeing. “Let’s go plan your outfit for Thursday!” she suggests, throwing the blanket you’re sharing off her body before walking hastily to your bedroom.

This is so her.

She’s more excited for this date than you are.

“Deep breaths, you look gorgeous!” she assures you, holding your hand as you squeeze it again and again to calm your nerves. “For what it’s worth, by the way, he’s my sweetest client. He’s really respectful and kind, a lot of them can be rude but he’s never been like that.”

“Really?”

“Yeah! He’s really understanding.” she nods, eagerly. “Do you want me to come in and wait with you?”

“No, um… c-can you wait and let me know when he’s coming in? Or, just be here in case I get stood up.”

“Don’t even think that, he’s excited! He’ll be here. I’ll drop him so fast if he does, but I know he won’t.” she assures you.

You take another deep breath before smiling at her. She reaches over to give you a hug. It’s a tight, reassuring squeeze that makes you feel better for a fleeting moment. She waves like a child when you step out of the car, and she wolf whistles before you close the door.

If nothing else, at least you look good. You both agreed that there’s nothing like a little black dress, and your high heels accentuate your legs. They clack as you stomp across the pavement. And when you realise your steps are in time with your heartbeat you think it wise to slow down.

As the entrance to the restaurant comes into view, you look down the street and give your friend one final wave. Though, really, it’s meaningless. You know as soon as you sit down you’ll pull your phone out and start texting her in a panic. The maître d’ welcomes you with a beaming smile, checking the reservation list for the booking strategically made under Maisie’s name.

Still so committed to the blindness of the date.

It’s sort of exciting to think he doesn’t know anything about you, either. Though it’s scaring you slightly that he could take one look at you and turn around. And you won’t know until it’s too late. You won’t know until you’re being pestered to order after telling the wait staff that your date hasn’t arrived yet several times.

They’ll have to be polite despite how humiliating it is to tell you that other patrons need to be seated and seen to and you’re wasting their time. You’ll have to swallow your pride and leave. You can’t possibly eat alone after shouldering such a burning humiliation.

Oh God.

You text Maisie. And your fingers tremble as you type out the message. Telling her that you cannot go through with this and that you’re about to leave. A barrage of texts come through as she tries to give you a pep talk. But your anxiety flares and your leg begins to bounce as you try and shake the nervous energy from it.

Part of you thinks it’s best to stay sober, but your body is screaming differently. One drink won’t hurt, you decide, ordering two glasses of wine in case your date ever turns up.

And then you remember who he is. Or who he might be. He’s a client of your best friend, the social media manager. He must have some level of fame to need that representation. You’re pretty sold on the idea that he is likely a footballer. And through this thought process you manage to relax, if only a little. If he’s famous, he could be busy.

You decide to offer him some grace.

Though you should have given him the time to be really late before you got so worked up. You’ve only been seated for three minutes, after all. It’s not like he’s stood you up for an hour. You decide you’ll give him fifteen minutes before you leave. That’s a suitable amount of time to be able to leave and not look really foolish.

Every person that enters makes your heart race. Is it him? Only to realise it’s a couple or a double date or a family party in tow. You check the time on your phone, nine minutes have passed. Your cheeks fill with air as you puff it out slowly through pursed lips.

YOU: he’s not coming. MAISIE MOO 🐮: dw he just called me! he was stuck in traffic!!! YOU: rly? MAISIE MOO 🐮: yah! should be there any minute, have fun 😉

Your heart rate intensifies again as you see a man walk through the entrance and close an umbrella as he greets the maître d’. It prompts you to look outside, the windows are practically black save for a few lights on in the buildings across the road. But your eyes focus on the fat raindrops and their white outlines as they roll down the glass. How didn’t you notice the sudden torrential downpour?

Even from your seat at such a distance from the entrance you can see how large and well defined his hand is as he shakes raindrops from his orange hair. The colour makes you shiver, but you bat it away. It’s him, it has to be him. He’s alone, after all. And you see the maître d’ smile in your direction.

Hell, he might be happier that he showed up than you are.

You hear him laugh, and it’s deep, as he’s guided into the restaurant. And you can’t help but smile as you see him. He’s handsome, very handsome, and he has such a positive energy beaming from him. His face seems warm despite being chilled by the wetness of the rain. There’s pink in his cheeks and at the tip of his nose as he continues to smile kindly.

And, really, you’re speechless.

He smiles so sweetly, you almost didn’t recognise him, as he takes his seat opposite to you. And he thanks you for the wine. His eyes betray him as he looks at you with optimism. You know him, you’ve always known him. Those amber eyes that you’ve never seen in another man again since him. They seem so kind, now.

But you know better.

While he knows nothing.

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting,” he grins, looking briefly over the menu. “I got stuck in traffic and then I had a hard time in the car park.” he laughs, his thumb indicating he’s referring to the multi-story car park down the road. The one notorious for its broken machines and confusing layout.

“Well, you’re here now.” you smile, weakly. Tipping the remaining contents of your glass until it flows between your lips. It goes down smooth and you almost feel it swim directly to your braincells, feeling slightly faint until your senses return to you again. You blink it away, and your eyes squint at him suspiciously. “Excuse me, I have to pee.” you tell him.

“Oh, sure.” he smiles. “Should I order for you if the waiter comes by? What would you like?”

“Are you paying or are we splitting the bill?” you wonder, taking his menu from his hand before he can even register that it’s gone. Your eyes scan the menu quickly, not looking for anything in particular.

“I’m old fashioned, so—”

“Great, then I want this.” you tell him, pointing to the most expensive meal on the menu as you place it back into his grip. He chuckles, gently, before looking up at you. Your smile filled with anger and malice as you turn on your heel to find the bathroom. “Oh, and an expensive meal should be paired with an expensive drink, right?” you tell him, leaving before he can respond.

He watches as you approach a waiter, asking where you can find the bathroom. They point you in the right direction. But before you go, you point towards the table your date is still seated at, telling them you’re ready to order. You ascend the staircase to the second floor and slip away into the bathroom and out of your dates line of sight.

Your heart pounds furiously.

Little hands shake as you search for your phone in your purse. Christ, you could use a cigarette right now. You feel light-headed as you take deeper and deeper breaths as you pull up your texts, your fingers tremble as you lean against the sinks.

YOU: do you hate me? be honest MAISIE MOO 🐮: ???? what’s wrong? Do u think he’s ugly? YOU: no he isn’t ugly. ANNOYINGLY. UGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! MAISIE MOO 🐮: … MAISIE MOO 🐮: what? YOU: do u remember me telling u about a school bully 😊 MAISIE MOO 🐮: stop it YOU: YOU SET ME UP ON A DATE WITH MY BULLY!! WHAT DO I DO?? MAISIE MOO 🐮: NOOOOOOOOOO MAISIE MOO 🐮: OMG OMG OMG IM SORRY MAISIE MOO 🐮: FUCK YOU: I told him to order me the most expensive stuff on the menu bc he’s paying.. so I might just eat and dip MAISIE MOO 🐮: stopppppp omg lmk when ur done I will pick u up im so sorry ily

You sigh, putting your phone back in your purse. Is that really the right thing to do? Maybe not right, it’s morally wrong, of course. But is it the best decision to make? Do you really want to sit and eat a meal you probably won’t enjoy with your former bully watching your every move?

“Fuck.” you whisper to yourself. You decide to pee while you’re here, and you wash your hands for longer than you intended. It’s distracting you from your worries as you stare at yourself in the mirror and feel the comfort of the warm water encasing your hands as you clean them. You shake them when your done, little drops of water landing back in the sink before you go to the hand dryer. Maybe you’re stalling. You’re definitely stalling as you realise you’re drying your hands for far too long.

With one final look into the mirror, you take a deep breath and decide to return to your date. He smiles as he sees you descend the stairs again. And instinctively, you smile back. It’s a habit you’ve developed, not necessarily a bad one. But in this instance, it feels like a betrayal to yourself. You tell yourself to remain straight faced as you sit down, pulling your chair closer to the table.

“I’m Rensuke, by the way. I realise I didn’t introduce myself.” he grins, beaming white teeth almost blinding you as he awkwardly holds his hand out for you to shake. “Sorry, been a while since I had a date.” he laughs as he puts his hand down.

“I know who you are.” you laugh in return, though it’s not because of what he said. You just can’t help but find yourself amused over the fact he doesn’t recognise you. He laughs, too, looking a little uncomfortable all the while. He scratches his head as he nods, coming to his own conclusion.

“Oh, right. You’re a football fan, then? Sorry, you didn’t strike me as the type.” he continues, assuming you’re familiar with him through his fame. You hold your eyes shut for a beat too long, an annoyed smirk creeping its way onto your face as you try to bite your tongue.

“Sure, let’s go with that.” you comment, taking a swig from your newly filled wine glass. He cocks his head in confusion, but drinks with you. “So, why are you here? In London, I mean. I assumed you’d be… not here.” you ask, unable to control your tongue. There’s venom in your words, but not enough to kill.

“Um, I—” he clears his throat, coughing into his balled-up fist. His honeyed eyes find yours again, an incredulous look appears on his face as he formulates his thoughts in his mind. “I feel like I’m being set up.” he chuckles, though you can sense the worry behind his voice.

You take another sip from your wine glass. A sip turns to a glug as you empty the red liquid from the crystalline glass. You refill it yourself; sensing things are about to go south very quickly.

“This wasn’t really a blind date, right? Maisie told you who I am and you wanted to meet me. Am I right?” he wonders. And at that, you do scoff. And now you’ve lost all interest in holding your tongue.

“Oh my God. You’re so full of yourself, you haven’t changed at all.” you tell him, crossing one leg over the other as you rummage through your purse in search of a cigarette that will never appear. “I had no idea I was being set up with you. If I knew that, I wouldn’t have agreed.” you tell him without remorse. Defeated, you throw your purse down to the ground by your feet.

There’s a sense of shame flaring within you that you couldn’t keep it together until the end of your date. Of all the people roaming planet earth right now, why did he have to be your blind date? You stare at him as you observe his confused expression, he’s utterly bewildered by your words.

“I’m… we’ve met before, huh? I’m sorry, I’m having trouble remembering. I— are you a fan? Or… were you?” he asks, trying to decipher your identity. You scoff, again, preparing to stand to your feet. He reaches across the table and grabs your wrist. You look down at his large, veiny hand and then into his eyes. Your own vibrating with a slight twinge of fear. You feel like that teenage girl all over again.

“Let. Go.” you warn him, voice quiet through your gritted teeth. He relinquishes his hold of you instantly, apologising profusely. He’s just confused about what he could have done for you to hold such disdain for him. But your warning replays in his mind like a record on repeat. It’s like his fractured memories are forming again, becoming whole as he hears your voice again and again.

Let go.

You sounded so much weaker back then. You’re more defiant, now.

“Are you Ryusei Shidou’s little cousin?” he asks, eyes widening and brows raising in excitement. You sigh, sitting properly in your chair with correct posture as your eyes look angrily at him.

“No, I told you—”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re not really cousins your families are just close. I remember.” he smiles. His eyes almost dazzle as he looks at you, all recollection of his past hits him like lightning as he repeats your name again and again like a mantra. “Is that really you?”

“It’s really me.” you repeat, sarcastically. “Cancel the food order, you can still pay for the wine.” you tell him as you pick up your purse and prepare to leave.

“What? Why? We should catch up!” he tells you, an expectant look on his face as he hopes to convince you.

“I don’t want to catch up with you?” you tell him.

“But… why not? It’s been so long since we saw each other.”

You signal the maître d’ when you finally catch his attention. Rensuke looks disappointed as you continue to ignore him. Instead, you alert the man that you’ll be leaving early and to cancel your orders. But you make sure to tell him that Rensuke will happily cover the bill. And he does, hastily pulling out a wad of cash from his wallet as you depart the restaurant. He hurries after you, he’s in slight disbelief when he realises how fast you are. You’re almost halfway down the road when he finally exits the restaurant.

“Slow down!” he calls out to you, running right up behind you until he’s walking at your pace. He opens his umbrella and holds it above your head as you carry on walking. “You’re gonna get sick if you keep this up.”

“Leave me alone.”

“At least take my umbrella.” he requests, “I’ll go to my car and leave right now if that’s what you really want. But at least take it while you wait for a ride home.”

You accept, not too proud to take something that might offer you a small comfort in the absolutely obscene downpour plaguing the city. How quickly you’ve transformed from a vixen to a drowned rat. He must be loving this.

“I really would like to catch up with you, y’know…” he smiles.

You look up at him as the rain soaks his gorgeous gingery locks dampening and sticking to his forehead. Maybe he has changed. It’s been years after all. He’s grown up, it’s plain to see from his chiselled jawline alone. And he was always big back then. One of the tallest guys in your class, and so big and beefy to boot from playing so much football and training in the gym.

He terrified you.

And now, he’s bigger. An inch or two taller and completely filled out into an even more muscular physique.

“I can take you home, too. You don’t need to talk to me if you don’t want to… but, it’s freezing. You’ll be waiting ages for a taxi or for Maisie to come get you.” he speaks softly. And unfortunately, he’s right. You know all too well how tough it is to get taxis around this time, but it would be worse if it was the weekend so at least you’re thankful for it being a Thursday. You want to decline. You’re so ready to decline.

But for some reason—

“Okay.” you nod. You walk ahead, though, leaving him behind as you walk to the parking complex you’re pretty confident that he used. He laughs, hurrying after you again and allowing you to lead the way. It seems you know the area way better than him.

He guides you to the elevator and to the top floor of the complex. You aren’t sure what you expected when you step out. It’s not like you’re familiar with cars. But you were expecting some kind of expensive sports model. A Ferrari or something. Instead, you’re greeted to a black Range Rover.

It’s definitely outside of your pay grade, but you can’t help but feel a little disappointed.

“I thought you’d have a nicer car, Rensuke.” you decide to goad him, thinking it’s the least he deserves at this point.

“This is my incognito car.” he smirks, looking over his shoulder at you as he unlocks it. Of course he has an incognito car. You huff a little as he helps you up and into it, closing the door behind you. He circles around the back and you see him looking around in the boot before he comes to the driver's side and sits behind the wheel. He gives you a towel, presumably used for his training days, and tells you to dry off. “My nicer cars are at home, sorry to disappoint.”

“Oh, wait…” you snicker as a thought comes to you. “Were you gonna try and pretend you’re a nobody if I didn’t recognise you?”

His face fills with a pink hue as he feels completely caught out. And you can’t help but burst into hysterics. It’s tough for him, meeting girls who will actually like him for him and not his bank account. When Maisie suggested a blind date, he thought it was as good a chance as any to try and form a natural connection.

“Anyway, I’ll take you home now.” he tells you, trying to change the subject. “Sorry the date didn’t go to plan.”

You huff, again, as you try to dry your skin with the towel. Eventually you give up and use it as a horribly soggy blanket. “I can’t believe you even wanted to go on a blind date. Girls used to throw themselves at you in school. I told Maisie a blind date seemed really desperate.”

“Did we go to the same school? I was a virgin ‘til we left.” he informs you. You look at him, surprised, and he nods to clarify. “I was focused on football and shit, didn’t have time for girls.”

“Well, you had time to bully one girl.” you remind him, regretting saying it instantly. You thought confronting him would feel better than this, cooler. Like you can finally get closure and make him feel almost a fraction as bad as he made you feel back then. But instead, really, it just feels… cringe.

He offers a weak smile at you. The tension could be cut with a knife as he pulls out of his parking space and drives down each floor. He wants to say something, and really, so do you. Maybe you should just let the hatred go. It was a really long time ago, after all.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t a good guy back then, but I like to think I’ve changed a lot.” he speaks, eyes focusing on the road as the street lights and car beams blind him in the rain. “Your cousin bullied me, y’know. Dunno if he ever told you, but I took it out on you. That wasn’t fair though, so I’m really sorry.”

“He is not—”

“Yeah, yeah. I got it, princess.” he smirks, “I wouldn’t want to claim a relation to that blonde freak either.”

The insult towards Ryusei makes you laugh. You’re still close with him to this day, and ‘blonde freak’ is the perfect descriptor. But you don’t like to think of him as being capable of bullying. You had a feeling that was why you were subject to Rensuke’s torment each day, but you didn’t want to discover the truth. He always made it a point to vilify you for being related to Ryusei. Though you adamantly denied it each time.

“So, you were a prick to me for being related to someone I wasn’t even related to?” you respond, seriously. It’s a hard pill to swallow. Though you’re unsure any answer to his bullying would have made you feel better. It hurts to know you suffered so much, ultimately, for nothing. “Wish I told him you were picking on me, he would have fucking killed you.”

“Yeah, I don’t doubt that.” he laughs a little. It’s soft, but not weak. It’s almost like acceptance. As though he deserves anything and everything you’ll throw at him. “We’re good now, though, if we’re in the same place we’ll meet up for drinks. He’s a fucking good player, too. Always admired him. He kept me in my place for a long, long time.”

You stare at him as he speaks. How have you never noticed how soft his features are? He’s so relaxed, peaceful. He looks at you briefly when he notices you staring, but just as quickly looks at the road again as his cheeks fill with heat, reddened with embarrassment.

“I was immature…” you start, looking down at your shivering, wet thighs as you decide to accept your own faults, too. “It’s been a long time since then. And we were young, it’s obvious that you’ve changed. I didn’t give you a chance and I was childish.”

“No, no—”

“I’m serious. Ordering the most expensive stuff and going off in a strop, that was really immature so... I’m sorry.” you tell him, and he smiles at that. He can’t help but think you’re a great girl. He looks over at you again, smiling so widely his eyes close.

“You never gave me your address, y’know.” he reminds you, laughing when the realisation hits you that you’d let him drive off with no real destination in mind. “Is it too late for that catch up?” he wonders, looking at you with hopeful eyes. The orange and brown colour tainted with sparkles of red as the stop light reflects from them.

And you’re powerless.

You find yourself agreeing before your brain can even keep up with the way you’re shaking your head. No, it isn’t too late. And his smile is almost as blinding as the headlights of each car in the road illuminating the falling raindrops and deep puddles forming in the street.

“I know where we can go…” he thinks to himself

Bowling.

You never thought you’d be coming somewhere like this. Truthfully, you feel like a kid again. You remember skimming some money from your daily lunch allowance given by your parents to save up enough to go to the arcade every weekend with your friends. Saving the extra coins to use the DDR machine.

Let’s just say you mastered Captain Jack on expert difficulty.

“Another strike? You’re too good, puttin’ me to shame.” Kunigami laughs before picking up a ball and preparing for his turn. “You better not tell anyone you thrashed me; my reputation will be in tatters.” he warns you, jokingly.

You watch him as he takes a swing and hits all but two pins, leaving an awkward split between them. You hear him mutter under his breath but can’t decipher whatever it is he was talking about.

For some reason, you feel like he’s going easy on you. It’s not like he was a stranger to the arcade either back in the day. You always scarpered whenever he showed up with his friends, deciding it was the perfect time to grab a bite to eat and hope by the time you were done they’d be gone.

“I wouldn’t have invited you here if I knew you were gonna show me up like this.” he smiles, sitting next to you after completing his turn. “I didn’t know you liked bowling, thought you just liked using the dance machines.”

“You remember?”

“Yeah, uh,” he chuckles and scratches the back of his neck as he recalls the memories from way back then. “Me ‘n Raichi, remember Raichi? Anyway, girls on the dance mats… well, we were teenagers, so—”

“Oh my God you’re so embarrassing.” you interrupt him to put a stop to his stuttering.

“Look, it was a sexual awakening that’s all I’m saying.” he laughs. “And you were the best one, never missed a step. I remember we used to watch you for ages before we came in to scare you away.”

“Disgusting. Pair of perverts!” you lightly smack his arm as you continue to tease him. “I was good, though. Wonder if I could still pull it off…” you look at the machines in the distance as you contemplate restoring your former glory, you feel a newfound sense of confidence as you think about Rensuke finding you attractive back then.

You decide to go for it.

He follows you as you approach the machine, standing on the second player arrows right next to you.

“Always wanted to try!” he shrugs as you look at him suspiciously. “You can teach me.”

“No, I can’t.” you laugh, slotting two-pound coins into the machine so you can both play. “It’s just memory and hoping your feet will respond in time. Good luck, though.”

“Yeah, sounds like you have real faith in me.” he rolls his eyes, throwing his coat over the red metal bar behind him and rolling up his sleeves. You quickly kick off your high heels as you scroll through the songs. You hover over Captain Jack, and his face lights up as memories of you back then flow through his mind. “You always did this one. There was a different one I remember liking, though…” he tells you.

He starts to scroll through the songs, listening to them carefully as he searches for the one he remembers. Your eyes widen in horror as he settles on one, and he looks at you with pride.

“This one!” he exclaims, loudly.

“No, no way. I could never get the hang of it and I’m even more out of practice now. Afronova is too hard it won’t even be fun!” you warn him, but he wiggles his eyebrows at you teasingly. “Let’s do it la—” he interrupts you by pressing the select button.

“It can’t be that hard.”

“You put it on the hardest difficult, idiot. We’re fucked!” you laugh, but get into position. You’re both definitely going to fuck it up, but at the very least you’ll get a good laugh out of seeing him eat his words.

All colour drains from his face as he sees all of the arrows immediately come into view on the screen. He barely knows where to look let alone where to plant his feet. He looks at your side of the screen, though, seeing you miss a fair few moves yourself but you manage to keep up the pace enough to earn some words of praise from the machine.

If you’d know you were going to be doing this, you definitely would have worn a bra. You hold your arms across your chest as you continue to jump and follow along with the arrows as best you can. Kunigami, however, decided to give up and watch you instead. He puts his feet down a few times on ones he think he might actually be able to get.

You’re left panting by the time the song comes to an end and your final foot stomp leaves you breathless. Rensuke claps, proudly.

“Fucking hell.” you gasp for air, leaning over the red bar behind you. You think you might actually throw up. “You dick, you barely did anything either.”

“I was captivated by the master at work, you were amazing!” he praises you, and you can’t help but giggle. “I think we should do an easy one next.”

“Agreed…” you respond, flipping through the songs until you land on 5678 by Steps.

You both laugh and joke as you easily follow along with the routine on baby mode. And it’s easy to keep up a conversation with him like this. Discussing more memories of spotting each other in the arcade and what you got up to on weekends.

It makes you sad, in a way. Knowing how sweet he is now and what he was capable of back then. You could have been friends, great friends. Maybe even best friends. Though you’re sure Raichi wouldn’t have liked that.

He allows you to pick your favourite song for the final round. And, naturally, he can’t keep up with you. But this time he actually does his best. But for you, it’s like muscle memory. You don’t miss a single step through the whole routine and you don’t even feel out of breath when it’s over. Kunigami however is sweating and panting again, his already wet hair sticking onto his forehead again as the sweat clings to it.

“It’s getting late.” you tell him, “Should we get some gross bowling alley food and call it a night?” you wonder, moving to pick up your discarded high heels so that you can decide what to do.

He rushes by you and hops off of the step, snatching your shoes up before you can. You watch him, nervously, as he gets down on one knee while holding your black pumps. You’re too speechless to object when he helps you slip your feet back into them, so delicately. And he smiles up at you from his lowly position as you gain another six inches of height. He holds his hand out to you, helping you down the step after you take it.

You exhale, deeply, after feeling how unbelievably soft his hands are.

“I think I’ll get a hot dog.” he thinks, not letting go of your hand and he leads you up the small flight of stairs and into the eating area.

“Oh, the burgers were good last time I came here.”

“Ohhhh fuck you’re right, I’m getting one too.” he laughs, ushering you into a secluded spot to sit down. “What do you want to drink? I’ll run up and order everything now.” he smiles.

You quickly look through the drinks menu and tell him you want a strawberry and lime Kopparberg. He nods approvingly at your choice. You watch him walk up to the bar to order, unable to take your eyes off him. He’s chatty with the bartender, and you wonder what else they’re talking about. You see him grab a pad of paper and a pen from behind the bar, handing them over to Rensuke. And he smiles, happily, signing it for him. You see the man thanking him over and over before Rensuke walks back over to you.

“You only just got recognised?” you tease him.

“It’s rarer than you’d think, y’know.” he laughs, “he said his kid is a fan. No big deal.” he shrugs, sliding your drink over to you.

He moves on from the subject of his fame and status in favour of complimenting you again. Telling you how talented you are and how fun it’s been hanging out with you again. You end up telling him about your job. It’s nothing fancy but pays the bills. You tell him about how you pretty much fell into the job of doing admin work for a law firm and now you’re training to be a solicitor.

His face lights up as you tell him. Like he’s proud. Or maybe it’s a twinge of relief that he didn’t fuck you up mentally enough to ruin your life. Either way, his smile is contagious. It only grows wider when your two plates of food are put down in front of you. And you hate that you’re trying to eat politely. There is absolutely no way to eat a dirty burger in a ladylike manner. He laughs at you when a dollop of ketchup drops on your chest and tries to slither down your cleavage. But, ever the gentleman, he cleans it up quickly with a napkin.

“Sorry,” he hesitates after realising how intimate it is. He hands it to you and you finish clearing your chest. “Good call on the burgers, though, they’re so good.”

You smile as you chew your food, still doing all you can to appear polite and demure. But he doesn’t mind, or care. Canines tear his burger apart with ease, and he can’t seem to stop himself from smiling each time he looks at you.

“So,” you start, putting down the final bite of your burger in favour of taking a swig of your drink. “You perving over me, did that affect the bullying?” you wonder, laughing lightly as he almost chokes on his food.

“I wasn’t perving, it was, I— ugh. I always thought you were cute. But I wasn’t about to tell you that.”

“You thought I was cute?”

“Oh, like you didn’t have a big fat crush on me? I heard the rumours.” Kunigami laughs, drinking his beer as he leans back into his seat.

“No, no, rumours and hearsay. I told one girl I thought you were hot on our first day and it turned into a game of broken telephone and spread like wildfire. I hated you!”

“Sure, sweetheart.” he winks before taking another drink. “Don’t worry, I can keep a secret.”

You shake your head, opting to finish your burger instead of disputing it further. He does the same, leaning back and sighing with relief before taking another drink. He slaps his stomach, as if he’s gained a beer bellying rather than possessing the rock-hard abs that you know reside there.

“This was fun. Really fun.” he tells you, crossing his arms over his chest as he continues to get comfortable in the booth seat. You nod, agreeing. “What are we calling… this?” he wonders.

“What do you mean?”

“Was it just a ‘catch up’ or could it still have been a date?” he asks, smiling when your eyes widen and your face flushes with heat so much that you feel the need to fan yourself. You tell him that you’re just hot from eating, but another cocky eye roll tells you that he’s not buying that. “I’m hoping you’ll say it was a date, if you were wondering.” he speaks, low and gravelly as he leans across the table to tell you.

“Well, it was technically a date. Just not the location we’d planned.”

“I enjoyed this a lot more.” he tells you, looking around at all of the arcade machines and the people bowling in the distance. “I go to snooty restaurants a lot, I don’t get a chance to relax like this as much. So, thank you.”

“R-Right, no problem.” you smile, unsure of what to say. “I guess we should get going, then.” you finish, gathering yourself and clutching onto your purse as you prepare to shuffle out of the booth. He looks a little deflated, then, but he follows your lead.

He puts his arm around you as he guides you to his car, helping you inside again. He even gives you his jacket to wear when he notices you shivering. Though you opt to wear it over yourself like a blanket.

You look out of the window as he climbs inside and shuts the door. The rain stopped while you were bowling, but it’s still so dark out. It’s damp and dreary, it’s just miserable, really. But the cold chill of staring out into the black abyss leaves you when Kunigami turns on the radio. Some generic pop music you’ve never heard in your life, and it makes you feel old and out of touch. But the face he pulls says the same story, and he begins flicking through other stations until he hears something he recognises.

“S-So… do you live nearby?” you ask him, curiously.

“I do! Just got a new place a few weeks ago, I’m still unpacking.” he smiles as he envisions all of the moving boxes still piled up in each room. “So where am I taking you?”

“If you go to Maisie’s office I can direct you from there.” you tell him, clicking your seatbelt into place as he pulls up directions on his phone to the office. You look out of the front window when you hear raindrops begin to pitter patter again. “Um… Rensuke…” you start, hesitating to speak as you wonder what the fuck you’re even thinking of doing right now.

“What’s up?” he asks, eyes darting to you before he starts the car. The only thing that can be heard is the light drops of rain. It makes your skin jitter, you feel a chill as you look at Kunigami, the rain rolling down the windows in your peripheral vision and you feel thankful to be here and not out there.

You feel desperate. And you’re sure you’re going to humiliate yourself, but you don’t want the night to end. In a million years, you never would have pictured yourself enjoying the company of Rensuke Kunigami. He’s a busy man, you’re sure. He fit you into his busy schedule and you’re sure he has better things to do than spend all of his free time on a date. A date that is supposed to be drawing to a close.

But you don’t say that.

In fact, you barely say anything.

He can’t help but smile, though, knowing exactly where your next destination will be.

“I don’t want tonight to end, either.” he confesses. You feel your body become lighter as you realise he feels the same way. He starts the car promptly, and you note how sure he is about where he’s taking you. “Can I show you my new place?” he asks.

He’s so cocksure as he says it. His eyes don’t meet yours and you sense it’s because he knows you’ll say yes. And who are you to disappoint? You’re curious, anyway. You wonder if it will be as impressive as you’re envisioning in your mind. Footballers are rich, aren’t they? But maybe he isn’t a high earning player. Either way, you’re curious to see the home that your former bully has worked so hard for.

You lose track of time as you pull up to his house. Or mansion, you should say. He’s allowed through the security gate currently being manned by a member of staff, and he drives up and towards a three door garage. You can’t believe you’re visiting somewhere like this, it feels like a dream.

It’s something Maisie is accustomed to, Rensuke even tells you how confidently she strutted around and didn’t even bat an eyelid when she came over to discuss his contract. But you’re left speechless as more comes into view.

He doesn’t bother parking in the garage, pulling up directly to the stairs leading up to the front door. He’s out first, doing a little jog around your side to open the door and help you out.

“I didn’t bring you here to brag, by the way.” he insists.

“And here I was thinking you were trying to woo me into bed.” you laugh, and laugh harder the redder his face becomes. He holds his hands up defensively, waving them dismissively as he tries to assure you that was not his intention.

“I’ll take you home right after if you want! I swear I wasn’t—”

“Relax! I was teasing you.” you tell him, bumping into him as you enter the mansion. He offers you a drink, which you accept, happily. He pours you a glass of wine but gets himself some water directly from the tap. “You aren’t drinking?” you question, feeling a little uncomfortable that you’re drinking alone.

“I won’t be able to take you home if I drink more than I already have.” he chuckles, handing your wine to you.

He drinks his water, and you take a sip of your wine. His smile, that beautiful smile, it’s so disarming. You’re tottering on your heels to walk by his side as he encourages you to follow him. You feel as though time is flying when he takes you from room to room. There are still moving boxes in each room but it doesn’t detract from the lavishness of it all.

You laugh when he tells you there’s a tennis court out back.

“What are you going to do with a tennis court?” you giggle.

“Play tennis, I suppose.” he laughs back.

You don’t mind even a little when you feel his cold hand come into contact with the even colder skin between your shoulder blades. You mind even less when his hand snakes down your spine and settles in the small of your back as he guides you to the next room.

“Oh wow…” you express, hit by the warmth of the room. Your heels clack against the tiles with each step you take. You leave his side as you get closer and closer to your target. And you scream, smacking Kunigami’s arm as he rushes behind you and presses his fingers into your sides. “An indoor pool… you’ve really fucking made it.” you tell him, and he shrugs.

“There’s one outside as well.” he informs you.

“Now that was a brag.” you laugh.

“Shit, was it?”

“Absolutely.

You crouch down to the balls of your feet, letting your fingers swim through the pristine pool water. You aren’t quite sure how to describe the colour of it, but it’s mesmerising, as if sage and turquoise paint mixed specifically to fill this pool.

He takes your hand and encourages you to stand upright again. And he doesn’t let go as he leads you out of the room. The thought of going back to your poky apartment after being in here is harrowing.

It almost feels like he’s doing charity work.

There’s a rumble outside that causes you both to stop in your tracks. And once you enter the living room again, you see the heavy rain pouring down violently on the windows again. It’s louder than before. The raindrops are weightier.

He squeezes your hand as you yelp after seeing a bolt of lightning pierce through the sky. You look up at him, eyes full of grace as those honeyed eyes warm your soul for the umpteenth time tonight.

“There’s a weather warning from The Met Office…” he tells you as he checks the time on his phone. He lets go of your hand to look at you again, unsure of what to say. “I can take you home… before it gets any worse…” he whispers. His voice betrays him, though. You can hear the voice of a liar interspersed with his desperation to be a good guy.

He doesn’t want you to leave.

You don’t want to leave, either.

“It’s… dangerous, though…” you start, looking out of the window again at the gloomy weather.

“In that case…” he bends down, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear. “You should stay.”

You mewl, softly, as he not-quite kisses against your ear and the smooth skin behind it. And your head tilts, for him, so that he can press one final kiss against your neck. You don’t want it to stop, but he withdraws himself with a cheeky smirk while your eyes are heavy with lust.

It’s been so long.

Too long.

You might have lived your whole life up to now without being kissed like that.

He curls his finger, instructing you to follow him back upstairs. You put down your wine glass and hurry after him. He doesn’t wait, this time, leading ahead as he brings you to one of the bedrooms.

“Wait here.” he commands, and you do.

You walk up to the standing mirror against the wall and check yourself out. Trying to make sure you makeup hasn’t smudged or there isn’t food in your teeth. Your hair is still soaked, but that can’t be helped. When he walks back into the room you quickly back away from the mirror as if you’d been caught doing something wrong.

“The bathroom is just opposite to here.” he reminds you, pointing.

You look down at the pile of items he brought in from another room. There’s an unopened three-pack of toothbrushes and a brand-new tube of toothpaste. You can’t help but smile when you pick up the rolled-up ball of white, fluffy bed socks.

And you hate to admit how your knees go weak when you realise he’s gifted you with his football jersey to sleep in for the night. There are shorts, too, but you doubt you’ll need them. You want to keep your dress on for as long as possible. You’ll just sleep in the jersey and your panties when you’re ready.

“Thank you.” you smile at him. You notice the tips of his ears and his nose turn a blush pink as he sees you holding up his jersey and modelling it against your body.

He doesn’t say anything as he leaves the room, giving you the space you need to do whatever it is you’re planning on doing. You take the opportunity to freshen up, you pick up the dental hygiene products he’d thoughtfully left for you and head to the bathroom. You catch his figure slipping into his own bedroom and closing the door behind himself.

Your mind runs rampant now that you’re truly alone. Look where you are. You’re brushing your teeth and preparing to spend the night in Rensuke Kunigami’s house. Sorry, mansion. How the fuck did this happen? Your heart begins to race. Are you actually going to fuck him?

You can’t.

You can already feel your inner child cussing you out for letting him kiss you like he did, no matter how brief it was. It helps, slightly, to tell yourself you have a reason to spend the night. The weather. It would be dangerous to drive in weather like this.

But, Christ, you can feel your cunt throb with want as you think about him railing you in every room of the house.

“Stop.” you whisper to yourself.

You finish brushing your teeth and spit into the sink. And that is when an idea hits you. You splash your face with water and find some cleansing wipes in the cupboard underneath. You start getting ready for bed. Because that is what you should be doing. Sleeping, alone, until you can go home.

When you’re done clearing your face you decide to slip into the clothes Kunigami gave you to wear. Even the ill-fitting, downright hideous shorts.

You emerge from the room, and see Kunigami appear again with a wide smile.

“Hey—”

“I think I’m gonna go to bed.” you blurt out, awkwardly, and Rensuke stops in his tracks.

“Oh… really?”

“Yeah I’m… tired.” you lie, already turning back into your room. “Goodnight.” you call out, not bothering to look at him as you’re already shutting the door behind yourself.

“Goodnight.” he replies, the disappointment in his voice doesn’t go amiss.

You can’t.

You just can’t.

You can’t fucking sleep.

It’s closing in on midnight when you check the time, and you have a multitude of texts from Maisie blowing up your phone. You can’t bear to respond, though. Not after all of the horror stories you told her about Rensuke. The thought of her knowing that you’re spending the night at his house is just embarrassing. Even though it is innocent enough. You didn’t even kiss, really. You’re just sleeping until morning.

But you can’t sleep.

Your mind is racing with ideas of what could have happened if you didn’t say goodnight. What else could you have gotten up to if you hadn’t had your responsible brain hardwired in. You’re thankful for it, you are. But just because it’s responsible doesn’t mean it’s always right. Right? It’s been so long since you’ve gotten fucked.

Are you depriving yourself over something so trivial?

You throw off your duvet and prepare to leave the room. You’re not looking for him. In fact, you’re hoping he’s asleep, like you should be. But if he catches you roaming the halls, you’ll just tell him you were going to use the bathroom.

The corridors are cold. The chill in the air caresses your no longer covered thighs, you discarded the shorts barely any time after you said goodnight.

You aren’t sure where you’re going, you only have the flash from your phone to light the way. You’re sure he wouldn’t mind you turning the lights on, but you don’t want him to catch you if he is awake. And you don’t want the light creeping into his room to disturb him if he did actually manage to get to sleep.

When you find yourself in the same room as the swimming pool, you have no idea how you even got here. It’s like you were summoned. It’s a mermaid’s lagoon and you were drawn in by a sirens song.

You can’t remember the last time you swam. It’s not like the weather is ever nice enough for it, and you hate public pools. But this… it might even help you feel tired enough to sleep.

You look behind you and approach a set of loungers.

As you’re about to pull Kunigami’s jersey over your head, you screech. The sound of breaching water echoes through the room and you turn around, sharply, to see the source.

“Are you okay?” he bellows, his voice reverberating through the room. “Were you looking for me?”

“Jesus Christ,” you yell, laughing soon after. “I- I couldn’t sleep. You almost gave me a heart attack, I didn’t even know you were in here!” you tell him, truthfully, and he laughs. He swims under the water from one end of the pool to the other. You stand at the edge when he comes up for air again. “I just couldn’t sleep.” you confess, though it sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself. Your voice is quiet and mousy so that your words won’t carry throughout the room.

“Me neither.” he tells you, looking up at you as he does. You notice his eyes stray, catching a glimpse of your panties under his jersey before he shamefully looks away. But he looks, again, as he admires you in his jersey. “Why can’t you sleep?” he asks, the sound of water pouring is boisterous as he raises his hand and pats the edge of the pool.

You look at it, his hand, and understand what he’s doing.

You can’t.

But you do. You crouch down, submerging your lower legs in the warm liquid while it ripples against the back of your thighs and ass. Your breath hitches when you feel his hand on your thighs and raking up the sides. He stands up, his forehead resting against yours as water cascades from his soaking body.

You can’t bring yourself to care when you feel it splash up against you.

The only thing on your mind is how close he is.

“Why can’t you sleep, baby?” he tells you in hushed tones. The weight of his words and the way he speaks them makes your body limp. But he’s there to keep you upright. He angles his head so that his eyes, those honey pot eyes, can focus on you. Your words die on your tongue as you try and formulate a lie.

One won’t come.

“Why did you say you were going to bed when you weren’t tired?” he whispers, again, and you feel your resolve begin to crumble. He’s like an archaeologist, meticulously brushing at an ancient relic that he has no business handling.

He should have left you be.

“I… I don’t know, Rensuke.” you lie. And it’s an awful lie. He’s grinning from ear to ear as he hears you struggle to think of anything better than that. He knows. You both know. That’s why you can’t object when he pulls you closer. His hands force your legs around his waist. How did you get here?

“You look good, princess,” he tells you, tugging gently as his jersey, looking down at the strip that drapes like silk over your cute tits and perfect frame. “Want you to have it…”

“But it’s yours.” you respond. You’re a little taken aback by how demure your voice is as you speak. It’s like you’re instinctively making yourself small for him. Your inner child is protecting you, still to this day. He shakes his head at your words, though.

“It’s yours, I’ve got plenty.” he assures you. He keeps a tight grip of your thighs as he begins to walk you further into the pool. You wrap your arms around his neck and will yourself to remain some semblance of control. But he smirks, his nose touching yours before he pulls away again. “You’re coming for a swim… do you want to take it off?” he wonders.

Your eyes widen in horror as you recall your decision to decision to forgo a bra, knowing it would ruin your outfit. You shake your head, defiantly.

You can’t.

“I’m not wearing anything underneath…” you inform him. He chuckles, at that. In his mind, he knows. And deep down, you know it too. If you don’t find your willpower soon, your bare-naked form won’t be an issue. He closes his eyes and holds them shut, laughing when you repeat his name a few times in an attempt to get him to open them again.

“Take it off, ‘m not looking. You can hide under the water.”

Your movements are halted but for barely any time at all. He has a way of making you submit to anything he wants and you aren’t sure why that is. You were so mad at him hours ago. You didn’t even want to have dinner with him.

But look at you now.

Your legs are wrapped tight around his waist and you’re throwing his football jersey away. It doesn’t land on a lounger, but near enough. And you hold onto his shoulders as he begins to walk you both deeper and deeper into the pool. You don’t want him to feel you, not like that.

It’s getting out of hand.

You can’t stop it.

You can’t help it.

“You can open your eyes.” you tell him, and he stops walking. His eyes slowly open and it takes an incredible amount of restraint for his eyes to not wander beneath the water. And, you feign innocence. You aren’t sure what is wrong with you, because you know you shouldn’t have. But you look away, pretending something in the distance has piqued your interest.

You give him the opportunity to leer at you.

And he’s so thankful.

Even submerged and obscured by the greenish, dithering water, your body looks like an oil painting. To him, you’re a work of art and he’s grateful that you’re even letting him experience you in the slightest. But this… you’re a masterpiece, he thinks.

“Hey,” he speaks, he moves a hand from your thigh to your chin and you cling to him instinctively. He guides your line of sight back to him, looking back at you with a serious stare. “You don’t need to fight me, you know.”

Your heart practically stops at that. At the very least you think it skips a beat. But you hold his stare, eyes vibrating as you look between his as you search for an explanation. Are you truly so easy to read?

He sees you wrestling with your conscience. He doesn’t want to intervene, but what else can he do? He pulls you closer to him, a surprised whimper leaving you as you feel your bare chest come into contact with his.

It doesn’t register to him, though.

You don’t fight when his lips begin to trail your own. No pressure is applied, but you’re breathing is heavy. And he can’t deny that his is matching your own.

“I’m not seventeen anymore.” he reminds you, quietly. Your eyes weld shut and your self-preservation begins to scream at you. Imploring you to have some fucking common sense.

You can’t.

“I know…” you confess.

You look at him briefly, giving him silent permission to proceed. And he takes it. Without hesitation he takes it as his lips capture yours in a sweet kiss. You feel like you’re in a romance novel as it continues. It’s polite but not entirely tame. And for you, it’s been entirely too long since you last kissed anyone. You feel him smile into the kiss when he hears the softest little moan crawl out of your throat. But it fades, fast, when he remembers how lucky he is to be experiencing this.

He doesn’t deserve it.

He doesn’t.

And so, he takes it seriously. He brandishes the plumpness and texture of your lips to the forefront of his mind as you allow him to continue. He implants the way your body arches into his as his fingers trace up the curve of your spine, and how your mouth parts ever so slightly when he reaches the nape of your neck.

You’re perfect.

“Has it been a while? Since you had sex.” he asks, quietly, like it’s some sordid little secret. You feel embarrassed when you register what he’s asking. The insecurity creeps in and you try to pull away. He doesn’t let you, though, pulling you closer and reaffirming his interest with another searing kiss. “You’re so responsive, baby, that’s all.” he tells you.

You kiss him again.

And you feel pathetic. Like a dog humping a stuffed animal as you begin to instinctively roll your hips against him as you beg for more.

“Feels like forever…” you confess, hiding your words into another kiss and hoping he’ll forget you even uttered them. You hear him grunt when you sensually slip your tongue between his lips. He reciprocates, licking at yours as he carries you to the edge of the pool again. “W-What about you?”

You regret asking. Of course, the answer won’t be the same for him. He’s gorgeous. Beautiful, in fact. He’s rich, famous, successful. You’re another in a long line of women who throw themselves at him when given the opportunity.

You certainly aren’t naïve enough to think otherwise.

“Since I had sex? Not too long ago.” he responds, and it’s effortless. You knew. You fucking knew and yet you’re still feeling hurt. And you feel ashamed of yourself in the same breath. It doesn’t matter, really, you know who came before you and who came before him are irrelevant to what’s happening right now in this moment. But still, the feeling of embarrassment lurks. “I don’t remember the last time I fucked anyone the way I want to fuck you, though.” he finishes.

And now, you’re ravenous.

Your lips find his again. And the politeness has died, drowned in the pool along with your morals and self-respect, you figure. Your fingers grab and pull at whatever they can find. One hand finds purchase on one of his biceps and digs and squeezes into the hard flesh. The other tugs and pulls at his hair residing just above his undercut.

And he moans when you yank his pretty orange tufts. He breaks the kiss, laughing, for a moment after he recognises what you just stole from the pits of his lungs.

You feel your ass come into contact with the edge of the pool as he sits you down in the middle of a kiss. He breaks it, sinking down further into the water until you’re looking down at him. Your heart rate quickens as you feel deft fingers hook into the waistband of your panties.

And you can’t control your body, moving on autopilot as you lean back and keep your legs together as he steals the black lace from your body. He has no regard for where they land, but you hear a faint splash as they float on the surface of the pool. You won’t see them again, you think. They’re soon to absorb the chlorinated water and sink to the tiles framing the pool.

You sit back upright but find yourself unable to meet his eyes again. Instead, you stare up at the ceiling as he gently pries your thighs apart one by one. He’s slow, and careful, as he parts them. Soaking in the sight of your intricate folds.

“Pretty everywhere, huh? So fuckin’ pretty…” he expresses. You feel his thumb drift along your inner thigh to your pubis. A soft, low chuckle escapes him as it comes into contact with your pubic hair. A perfect landing strip guiding his eyes to your scintillating cunt. “You did this for me.” he states. He doesn’t ask, he tells you. And your eyes snap back to look down at him, defensively splashing him with water.

“I didn’t know it was going to be you,” you remind him. “I wanted to be prepared in case I—”

“But it was me.” he interrupts, wrapping his arms around your thighs after wiping the excess water from his face. “You’re letting me see. So it’s all for me, princess.” he continues. You don’t have a response, despite his logic seeming broken at best. It’s for him, now. But had you known who would be walking into that restaurant…

His breath fans across your heat as he places his thumb at the top of your lips and pulls back the hood of your clit. You gasp, letting your head sink as you lean back on your hands and rest your weight on them. And he spits on it, sucking at it soon after.

“’h my God…” you start, moving a hand to his hair, threading your fingers through damp, orange strands as he continues to suckle at your clit.

You’ve lost the means to feel embarrassment anymore as he looks up at you with his head buried between your thighs. Though you can’t deny the hot flush you feel as he makes a holy show of flattening his tongue between your lips and licking upwards from your oozing hole to your still exposed clit.

But you lose him, again, as he decides to focus.

He didn’t think he could burrow any deeper between your legs until you feel his still hooked arm drag you closer to the pools edge. You tug at his hair again when he finds his rhythm, and he emits another grunt that vibrates throughout your sex.

You admire how his muscles flex as his grip around your thighs intensifies. He feels how your hips begin to buck, like you’re getting there. Like he’s helping you get there but you’re still trying to run from him.

You can’t.

Not anymore.

He looks up at you with golden retriever eyes as you begin to moan. It’s quiet, until it’s not. Quiet, secretive breaths begin to turn into sinful, saccharine moans that echo right back to you as they bounce from the walls.

His nose wiggles and nestles against the perfectly formed line of your pubic hair. It tickles, but he’s always had an affinity for landing strips. It’s nothing he can’t handle. And it’s something that drives him wild.

You clamp your legs around his head as you start to dance along the cliffs edge of your orgasm. But he parts them, easily, his veins bulge in his hands as he grips tightly into the doughy flesh of your thighs.

“Ren- Rensuke—!” you cry out, unable to even warn him before he’s already dragged you into toe-curling bliss. And he prolongs it, divinely, not altering his ministrations even as you begin to shudder and scream. “S’too much, Rensuke, f-fuck…” you pant, looking down at him as he finally begins to slow down.

“’m not done, though.” he warns you. He liberates your left thigh from his grasp, but his fingers lightly trail down your inner thigh and he can’t help but marvel at the sight of your sensitivity. You twitch and spasm from the lightest of touch.

Though the whine that rips through your vocal chords is just as delightful. You couldn’t help it, you couldn’t even predict it when you felt two thick fingers seamlessly slot inside of your clenching entrance and curl up against your g-spot.

“Fuuuuuck, no, Rensuke, c-can’t.” you warn him, partially succumbing to light headedness as you feel him hone in and target your squishy slippery inner walls without remorse. You’re shivering. You’d like to think it’s just the exposure of wet skin to the stormy air, but it’s too much. You know it’s too much.

“You think too much,” he tells you, head sinking low again to continue feasting upon your gorgeously ruined flesh. Your pussy pulsates through the recent orgasm and the overstimulation. He’s going to be disappointed when he realises you can’t even fathom the idea of cumming again.

You just can’t.

Your body goes limp as he nudges a particularly delicate spot and presses down on your lower abdomen. The moan that leaves you at the feeling is downright pornographic. You can’t see, you can’t feel, but he’s smirking. He doesn’t relent, but his ego and his cock swell with pride as that salacious fucking moan plays on repeat in his brain.

The hand applying pressure ventures up north of your body. And your cunt clamps down on his fingers as his adventurous hand grabs the fat of your breasts and gropes your flesh. You moan, weakly, with no energy left in you as he tweaks at your nipple with his thumb and forefinger.

You’re pathetic, you think.

It was this easy for him to reduce you to this.

But you can’t help it. Your body is spent and you can feel another orgasm climbing through your nervous system. And yet, despite being wrecked, your body still finds the energy to clench and groan as you feel pleasure surge through you. Your toes curl, again, before they spread and widen and you try and gain some sort of control over what Rensuke is thrusting upon you.

Another scream is torn from you as you fall, no, you’re pushed from what seemed like a higher cliff than the first. Your back arches from the tile and further into Kunigami’s titillating touch.

“Rensuke, I- I…” you aren’t even sure what you want to say when you begin babbling. You manage to rest your weight on your hands again and look down at him. He showers your inner thighs with adoring kisses, they’re sweet and loving and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think you were falling in love.

He pulls his fingers out of your spasming walls and looks up at you. Your jaw is agape, slightly, as you feel him spit a perfect glob of saliva onto your clit without even looking. He needs to stop. You shake your head as you see the gears turn in his brain and you catch up almost instantly. You try to pull his wrist away but you’re weak.

“C-Can’t, Rensuke… no more!” you tell him, despite trying to sound firm, you just sound pathetic.

He can’t stop.

So he doesn’t.

He rubs the two fingers that were inside you just moments ago repeatedly over your throbbing clit. The smile sprawling across his face is that of a menace. He knows exactly what he’s doing. He thinks he knows your body better than you do.

And, hell, he might.

You say you can’t.

But why are you moaning for him?

“Doin’ so good for me, princess.” he tells you, kissing your inner thigh again as he continues his assault. His eyes droop as he admires how tender and overstimmed your pussy is. You can keep going, though. He’s sure of it. “You moan really pretty when you cum… ‘n I can tell she likes attention.” he speaks, it’s gruff but somehow still soft. He doesn’t look at you right away after he speaks. Instead his eyes remain focused on your tremoring cunt.

“I’m— I c-aaaan’t. Anymore, no more, ‘mmm hmrmf…” you struggle to even make sense in your mind of what you were originally trying to say as the nonsense you actually spouted takes root in your brain. He laughs, shallowly, as you try to reason with him.

You can’t reason with him, though.

Not when he knows better and your cunt is betraying your weak will.

“Goin’ dumb for me ‘cause you feel too good, huh?” he chuckles, tilting his head as he tries to command your focus on him. The way every inch of your skin trembles with pleasure makes his cock leak like he could never imagine. He’s glad he’s in the water so you can’t see what a pathetic mess your pretty noises alone have him reduced to. Though he makes a mental note to get the pool cleaned tomorrow. “Don’t need to think when you’re cumming. Jus’ cum for me. Can tell she wants to… just let go, princess.”

“Haah, hn- hnnnnng—!” you finish with a cry, you can’t believe he’s managed to make you cum three times in such quick succession.

Even as an adult, Rensuke Kunigami has found a way to reduce you into a sobbing puddle.

He frees you, eventually, allowing your body to catch up to what has just happened. He finally lets you close your legs and allow your twitching quim to recover, alleviating the pressure between them.

He hoists himself out of the water, though. And he climbs effortlessly above you. And, really, you know he’s always been a big guy. It’s arguably his most defining trait. But fuck, like this, while you’re shivering and spent, he’s fucking massive.

“Do you want to stop?” he asks. The soft, caring voice contrasts completely with his all-consuming presence. He lowers his head to kiss between the valley of your breasts and down to your navel. But he stops short and looks at you again. “We can, if you want. But… I’m having fun with you.”

You should answer. He’s asking for consent, after all. Your lips part and reseal repeatedly as you try and decide on what to say. You’re having fun, too. But can you handle it? Can you handle more of this?

“You’re so… big.” you whisper, and you don’t know where that even came from. You giggle when you see him smile at your silly comment, and he immediately has a retort spring to mind.

“My cock matches, y’know. Why d’you think I made you cum so much?” he tells you. “Well… I like making pretty girls cum anyway, but you’ll thank me. If you wanna keep going, that is.”

“I want to fuck… want you to fuck me, ‘Suke.” you admit. He lifts your back away from the cold, damp tiles and pulls you into his embrace. You receive one final, show-stopping kiss from him as he pulls down his swim shorts. You keep your eyes on him, not having the confidence to look down below.

He grabs your chin, his thumb helping tilt your head and guiding you to look at his length. And, embarrassingly, you gasp. He chuckles, kissing your forehead and you look between him and the impressive size he possesses. It’s scary, honestly, looking at how thick and heavy his cock is and what it will feel like inside.

There isn’t a doubt in your mind that you’ve never seen a dick like this and you surely won’t again. He’s big, thick. And long to boot. His tip is prominent but soft. Like you could suck it into your mouth and hear a pretty pop sound once it’s in. You could run your tongue along the ridge and make him hiss from the pleasure.

The thickness is akin to an energy drink can. Eight long inches threaten to invade your apparently well-prepared walls, but still, you aren’t so sure. His veins aren’t prominent, but they’re there. You see them running along his shaft in different directions. And then you do find one. One throbbing, prominent vein as you admire each and every inch of his heavenly member.

You’ve never had an affinity for balls. Seeing them as a nuisance that are just there rather than anything you have any interest in pleasuring. But for him. For those. You could be persuaded. They’re heavy, God they look heavy but every inch of him does. He’s a large, imposing man and his balls are no exception.

It turns you on to no discernible degree to think about how full and aching his balls must be after you’ve teased him all night. How they’ll tighten and release as he floods you with his cum when he’s through with you.

“Need you, Rensuke, n-now.” you tell him, unable to function without feeling him inside of you for a second longer.

A brief panic shoots through your veins as he pulls you back into the water like a siren. But he stops short of pulling you to your death.

At least, in the literal sense.

You might experience your fourth little death as soon as he sticks his tip in you.

The water sloshes around you as you’re pushed into the pool wall. Your legs sit comfortably on his hips as he guides his still leaking cockhead into your greedy cunt. You moan in tandem as you become accommodated with each other.

“You’re so cute, s’fucking tight, princess.” he tells you, silencing any response you might have had with an ardent kiss. You try to pull away, but he doesn’t let you. And it’s calculated, of course, as he pushes further and further into your sticky walls.

It wasn’t enough.

Three wasn’t enough.

The thickness of his length would have you screaming if he wasn’t keeping a firm grasp on the crown of your head so you couldn’t pull away to voice how the stinging stretch was affecting you.

He doesn’t let go until he’s in. Fully in. You feel him kiss your cheeks and now you can finally moan, pant, screech if you so choose. But as your breathing comes out in hiccupped sobs, you realise he isn’t kissing your cheeks.

He’s kissing away your tears.

“Took me so well, gorgeous.” he mutters against your skin, still continuing to softly peck his lips against your damp skin. “You’re so good… such a good girl, princess. I’m so proud of you, bein’ so good f’me tonight.”

It makes you cry more, though you aren’t sure why. You can barely think about what he was like back then. When he was cruel and callous for no viable reason. But you’d never have heard such sweet sounds from him like you’re hearing now. You’re a good girl, and it’s for him.

Your tongues tangle into a clumsy fervour as he starts to move his hips. The sound water lapping at your bodies is deafening. He lifts you up, slightly, so that he can pound himself into you without restriction.

Both of you find it hard to keep kissing romantically and consistently the harder and faster he batters his cock against your insides. Your lips touch but your mouths hang open. And he’s looking at you. Really fucking looking at you as he drinks in every facial contortion you make from the feeling of his cock bullying itself against your self-destruct button.

He loves the way you bite your lip when you’re close. How your eyes cross and you look so damn wet and pathetic as he brings you to ruin again. It’s a sight he��d have tattooed on the back of his eyelids if he could. He’s been around the world and still couldn’t name a more beautiful sight.

Maybe you could be a porn star, he thinks. If both of your careers fall through, he knows what a good fallback will be if you were so inclined. You’re perfect. Every inch of you, top to bottom, is perfect.

You can barely hold onto consciousness as you feel his heavy breeder balls slap relentlessly against your ass. But you hang on, you have to when he grabs the lower half of your face and pinches your cheeks until your lips pucker.

“Is my good girl about to cum?” he asks, and you nod, dumbly. “That’s it… stay with me. Wanna watch your pretty face while you cum again.” he orders.

You breath faster, fighting against the crushing urge to close your eyes and let go of your body completely. But you’ll do anything he asks, in this moment, so long as he keeps calling you a good girl.

“Can I cum inside?” he asks, thrusts increasing in pace as he jackhammers into you. He’s close, too, but he wants you to cum first. It’ll tip him over the edge if you cream him like this. It’s all he wants. It’s all he needs. “Or should I p-pull out?” he struggles, the thought of spraying your body with his seed appeals to him just as much.

“D-Don’t pull out, Rensuke, don’t you dare…” you command. “Hnf, ah, I’m! Haaah, aah, f-fuck—!” you finish.

“Shit, shit.” he follows you right after. It seems that he would have came inside whether you wanted him to or not. “Ohhhh, fuck, baby. Fuckin’ perfect pussy… take it.” he finishes, too, his pace only slowing by a fraction as his cock spurts rope after rope of pearlescent cum into your cunt.

The sound of water calms after some time. The waves lap around you, carefully, as you breathe and sweat after such a vigorous workout.

It surprises you, a little, as he kisses you after the fact. You thought he’d turn a little colder after he got what he wanted. But you underestimate him again, clearly, as he kisses you sweetly.

“That… amazing.” you tell him, not possessing the energy to fill the rest of the sentence. The start and end are enough for him to figure it out, though. And he cradles your body in his arms as he walks you both to the shallower end of the pool with the staircase. “’m so tired.”

“I know, baby.” he hushes you, you feel like a child in his hold. You’re so little in comparison and you’re still surprised he didn’t break you. He manages to effortlessly pick up his jersey and walk you towards the pool room door. “Gonna get you cleaned up, ‘n we can go straight to sleep.” he promises.

You can’t remember the last time you got such a good nights sleep. Really, you barely remember even falling asleep. You remember Rensuke washing your body and your hair in a warm bubble bath. But you don’t remember him putting you to bed.

Waking up in his arms was a nice feeling, though.

So nice you felt compelled to wake him up with a reward.

He stirred in his sleep as you began to kiss down his bare chest and further down his body. He’s a light sleeper, you came to realise, as he woke up with a cheeky smile on his face and asked what you were doing.

You took his cock between your lips and showed him just how thankful you were for his attentive treatment and aftercare from last night. And you may have wanted to give him a reason to remember you if he wanted to consider going on another date.

He got close.

Really close.

Until he pulled you away to sit on his cock.

“’m not wasting my cum in your mouth when I can cream this cunt again.” he smirks, helping you straddle his hips before lowering yourself down onto that perfect fucking dick again. And he watches you ride him, his jersey riding up slightly with each rise and fall of your hips.

“L-Love your cock, Rensuke, s’fucking big.” you moan like a slut with no remorse. You can’t act coy anymore. Not after last night.

“S’all yours, baby.” he tells you. His attention is stolen from observing your enjoyment when he hears a buzzing on the side table. He reaches for it, and you don’t even notice while your eyes are screwed shut.

And he realises it isn’t his phone.

It’s yours.

He moves slightly, so that he’s sitting upright, covering your mouth as he answers the call. Your blood runs cold as you feel the cold glass of your iPhone screen pressed against your cheek and your ear. Your eyes widened in horror as you look down at Rensuke for help.

“Hello?!” Maisie.

He uncovers your mouth, allowing you to speak. “H-Hey, Maisie.”

“I texted you so many times, where have you been? Did you get home alright? I was so worried!” she yells at you. You can tell she’s in her office pacing back and forth on the tiles as her heels click with each step. She’s pacing. She’s furious.

“S-Sorry! I was just, it was a weird night!” you try and answer simply without lying or giving too much away. But your heart quick starts again as Rensuke holds onto your hips. You're mouthing and no no no! Butit’s ignored as he nods sadistically. He holds tightly onto your hips until your flesh spills between his fingers. And he fucks. You whimper pathetically as you seal your lips in a bid to keep quiet. He really is a sadist, he looks like he’s going to cum to the sight of you desperately trying to maintain your composure.

“I cannot believe I set you up with your old bully, that is so my luck.” she laughs. “Did you just get a taxi home?”

“A-Ah! Uh, yeah I know, c-crazy.” you struggle. “S-Sort of. Eliza was in the area so she picked me up.” so much for not lying.

“Oh, really? That’s good.” she replies, though the click clacking of her heels comes to a stop. “Weird, though, considering I rang all of the girls to see if any of them had talked to you. None of them did.”

“T-That’s… weird.” you reply, eyes rolling back as you try and maintain a level head and think of a way to get off the call. “Um, I uh—”

“I’m at work, just looking through some of my client's details. I’ve got Rensuke’s address up on my screen right now.” she starts. Oh fuck. “You know what else is on my screen?”

“W-What?”

“Find my fucking friend you little slut! Oh my God!” she screams, though you can’t tell if she’s actually screaming or if it’s melded into laughter. “Did you fuck your bully? You whore!”

“I— It’s complicated, nngh!” your free hand flies to your mouth as you spasm through another mind-altering orgasm shatters through you. Rensuke keeps a firm hold of your hips as you tighten around his cock. You hold the phone as far away from your face as you possibly can, though it doesn’t matter. Not when Rensuke cums in you again with no regard to his volume.

“Oh… my God.” Maisie speaks, though you barely hear it. You bring the phone back to your ear and sigh. You already know you’re busted, there’s no point in hiding it now. “I thought I heard a mattress squeaking. Have you just fucked?!”

“Hmph… yeah. Sorry.”

“I’ll pick you up later if you need a lift, I want all the details you absolute slut.” she laughs, sitting down in her office chair as she actually starts to do some work. “How was the date though, was it good?” she asks, knowing she’ll have to go soon.

You look at Rensuke’s pink, sweaty face and wide smile. You melt into the way his thumbs stroke into your sides so tenderly. And you smile back at him, a newfound confidence you’ve never felt before.

“It was… fucking amazing.”

#rensuke kunigami x reader #kunigami x reader #rensuke kunigami x you #kunigami smut #bllk x reader #bllk smut #blue lock x reader #blue lock smut #kunigami x you #rensuke kunigami smut #tw alcohol consumption #tw dumbification #tw size difference #tw size kink #tw dacryphilia #tw praise #tw bullying mention

2K notes · View notes

elllisaaa · 15 days

Note

Could you please write seventeen reaction to sharing a bed with their crush for the first time? TYSM 😚

seventeen sharing a bed with their crush for the first time

-> pairing : svt × gn!reader

-> words count : 1.5k words

-> genre : fluff

-> author's note : i looove these cute asks about seventeen, they're taking me ages to write because 13 members is a lot but i hope you'll like it anyway !

-> sorry if I made any mistakes, english is not my first language.

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated !

-> masterlist | svt masterlist

CHOI SEUNGCHEOL

shy and giggly the whole time.

he’s obviously making sure you’re not uncomfortable about this before slipping into bed with you.

he’ll try so hard to stay still and not touch you without you explicitly telling him that it’s okay.

but anyway, you’ll wake up in the morning cuddled up against him, with his arms around your waist because he unconsciously pulled you close to him during the night.

a human heater, you don’t even need the blanket lmao

YOON JEONGHAN

he would try to make some jokes about how you’re trying to get on his bed but deep down he’s screaming and freaking out, hands shaking as he’s handing you another blanket so that you’re not cold.

at the end of the day though, jeonghan is a softie who just wants to love and to be loved so he just can’t wipe out the smile on his face as you settle by his side.

i’m a firm believer that he loves when someone plays with his hair, and if you do it to help him sleep, his heart will start beating like crazy.

basically, you just get to see his soft and sleepy state, he’s just so cute.

HONG JOSHUA

will ask numerous times if you’re really okay with sleeping in the same bed as him.

and in fact, he will ask your consent before doing anything, even if it’s just keeping the lights on a little longer.

he would feel a little awkward at first, not knowing if he can touch you or not when he’s dying inside to cuddle with you.

but he would not say it, so you’ll have to ask him to hold you in his arms - and bet that you’re wrapped in his embrace the next second.

will kiss your temple before falling asleep and wake up before you in the morning to serve you breakfast in bed

MOON JUNHUI

so so nervous, his mind cannot make up for the fact that you’re going to sleep in his bed, right next to him.

he wants to cuddle with you so badly but he’s too anxious to ask you.

instead, he will put on a film for the two of you to watch in hopes you’re going to get comfortable.

when you lay your head on his chest and grab his hand, he’s screaming inside and he cannot wipe the smile out of his face.

jun would end up falling asleep all cuddled up against you before the film is even finished.

he would never stop saying that he slept sooo well the next morning, in hopes that it will lead to you sleeping in his bed more.

KWON SOONYOUNG

so excited about it and he cannot hide it

he’s smiling the entire time, from the moment you arrive to the moment you both settle under the covers.

even as your friend, he would want to cuddle all the time, so you can’t say you’re surprised when he’s snuggling against you, wrapping his arms around your waist, head comfortably placed on your chest.

i think he would be the type to accidentally keep the whole blanket all for himself, leading you to get even closer to him.

he would apologize in the morning, but at the same time, he’s content with holding you against him for as long as possible.

JEON WONWOO

another one who would get very shy.

he would not even be the one to propose that you sleep with him : he’s ready to just put some pillows on the floor and sleep there.

but when you insist, saying that you don’t mind sharing a bed with him, his ears turn red so quickly.

i don’t see him as the cuddliest member, but he would definitely let you play with his hands, trace patterns in his palms while you’re talking.

and if in the morning, he wakes up to you still holding his hand, gripping so tightly he can’t free it from your grasp (as if he wants to do that in the first place), don’t blame if he takes a few pictures.

LEE JIHOON

he would try to act cool, calm and collected the whole time when he really isn’t at all.

some chill music will play quietly in the background as he adds some pillow on his bed to make sure you’re comfortable.

he will melt at the sight of you in his hoodie that you borrowed because you were cold, it was looking so big on you.

jihoon would love to turn off the light and talk with you about everything before sleeping, admiring your figure in the darkness.

he would also love it if you start playing with his hair, chasing your hand when you stop.

LEE SEOKMIN

so excited he’s jumping all around his room, stuffing his bed with even more pillows and blankets to make sure that you’re going to feel comfortable enough.

his room would be cleaned up from a to z and it has never been tidier because he wants to make a good impression on you.

would put on a film for the two of you to watch with a loooot of snacks, and all your favorite ones obviously.

will try to smoothly put his arm around your shoulder and get you to be closer to him.

his hands are literally shaking the whole time, only feeling relief when you finally hold it.

his heart is beating so fast when you fall asleep on his chest, the next day he’s punching the air in joy.

KIM MINGYU

he’s so cute omgg, cheeks and ears are all red when he asks you if you need anything else.

he just wants to hold you close to him but at the same time he’s so nervous to ask you, he just keeps fumbling with his hands, trying not to make it obvious.

so you’ll have to do it yourself if you want to cuddle with him.

but once you’ve settled in his arms, he’s not letting you go, feeling so good with having you all close to him.

another human heater who will keep you warm all night.

100% would bury his face into your neck or hair to breathe in your scent all night.

XU MINGHAO

he’s honestly pretty calm about it, trying to tell himself that it’s not that deep.

really it’s because he is very comfortable around you so he perfectly knows that it’s going to go well.

everything feels so natural, and you fitting so well in his arms feels just right too.

however, he cannot ignore how fast his heart is beating when you wrap your arms around his waist and nuzzle your face in his neck.

even if he wakes up before you the morning after, he’ll stay with you in bed, admiring your beautiful features.

BOO SEUNGKWAN

warning you before that if you disrupt his beauty sleep, he’ll kick you out (but let’s be honest, it’s only to hide how nervous he is).

helps you do your skincare before you both go into bed (yes, that is another excuse to be closer to you and touch your face).

he will also braid your hair because he says that it protects them during your sleep.

with how close he is to you all the time, you don't expect him to be so far away when you get under the covers.

but once you say it’s okay for him to cuddle with you, he doesn’t let you go all night.

you end up falling asleep to him telling you the most recent stories that happened to him this week, and he finds you so cute that he cannot be mad about it.

CHWE HANSOL

will try to keep his usual chill persona but he feels all giddy inside.

he smiles so much more than what you’re used to, just because he’s happy to get to spend more time with you.

you two end up talking until dawn, about anything and everything, jumping from the most serious subject to the less important one.

when you finally fall asleep, you’re close but not touching each other but when he wakes up in the morning, your head is laying on his chest, sleeping peacefully and his arms are around your waist.

he will not make any moves until you open your eyes because he loves the feeling of holding you like that.

LEE CHAN

he’s so shy, he doesn’t know what to do with himself anymore.

constantly asks you if you need something, and bet that he’s ready to do everything for you to be comfortable.

will play with your hair under the excuse that “they look soft” and they really do but it’s also because it helps you relax (and because he just loves doing it).

he could take matters into his own hands and cuddle with you, but if you initiate it, he’s going to melt inside.

literally the best sleep of his life (and yours too).

will spend another three hours in bed after waking up, just talking with you because it feels too good being in your arms.

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my works.

svt masterlist (fill in this to be added) :

@lil-kpopstan @hann1bee @iraisswiftie @bewoyewo @lichyuu

#eli answering your questions #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #seungcheol x reader #jeonghan x reader #joshua x reader #jun x reader #hoshi x reader #wonwoo x reader #woozi x reader #dk x reader #mingyu x reader #minghao x reader #seungkwan x reader #vernon x reader #dino x reader

584 notes · View notes

celestie0 · 3 months

Text

gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.6 devil's advocate

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader (f)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying & drinking while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, mentions of weed, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot

ᰔ chapter. 6/x (probably 12)

ᰔ words. 10.7k

a/n. so sorry for the wait! i'm really excited for this chapter, it's one that i've been waiting for since before i even started the series, and it was a lot of fun to write. i hope you enjoooy <3 if there are typos, your mind is just playing tricks on you

nav. ch1 :: ch2 :: ch3 :: ch4 :: ch5 :: ch6 :: ch7 :: ch8 :: ch9 :: ch10 (pending)

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1

♬.*ﾟplaylist

Life after realizing you had feelings for Gojo Satoru seemed to pass by in slow-motion, as you spent a significant portion of the day consumed by thoughts of him. Although it was against your better judgment, it was nice to have your mind occupied by something that wasn’t career stress, school stress, or financial stress. It’s been a minute since you’ve felt this way about someone, and it was healthy to indulge in some escapism, right?

You find yourself scrolling through his Instagram page for the second third time today, captivated by the attractive photos of him in his soccer uniform, kicking at the ball with a determined look on his face. Your gaze fixates on the blue follow-back button staring back at you on his page, remembering that you still haven’t followed him back. Pulling your phone away from your line of sight, you glance up at the ceiling, take a deep breath, and swiftly tap the blue button. You clutch your phone to your chest right after, surprised by the butterflies in your stomach, but it’s only ten seconds before you’re back to perusing his photos.

You sigh dreamily from where you were laid back on your bed. Mina looks up at you from her desk with an irritated expression on her face.

“What’s with the dreamy sighing every thirty seconds? I’m trying to study here,” she says to you.

You throw her a look. “Oh please, I’ve had to deal with your dreamy sighs every single time you were on the phone with Todo for the past two weeks. You can handle a few of mine.”

Mina’s eyes widen at your words and she turns in her chair to look at you intently. “Wait…who are you dreamily sighing for?”

You blink in response. “Oh, uh. No one? I mean, what’s that one actor’s name–the one in that show we were watching?” You tap your finger to your lip, pretending to be in deep thought, but Mina wasn’t buying any of it since she promptly stood up from her chair and snatched your phone out of your hand. You yelp and sit up on your bed to try and grab it back from her but she has that I was the eldest sibling in my household grip on your phone.

“Is this��Gojo Satoru’s Instagram page?” she asks, extending your phone out in front of her and tilting her head to the side at the screen, as though she was trying to wrap her head around it.

“Stop! You’ll accidentally tap on something,” you’re squealing at her, arms flailing out in an attempt to grab at your phone. She eventually hands it back to you and you’re sighing with relief before flopping back down onto your bed, fingers eagerly swiping up on the screen to make sure she didn’t accidentally like one of his posts from four months ago.

“Are you crushing on Gojo Satoru?” Mina asks with her hands on her hips.

You meet her gaze with a hint of guilt. You haven’t kept Mina up-to-speed on a lot of the things that have happened within the past three weeks, including the night last week when Gojo stayed with you out on the road after you got your flat tire and then kissed you. It’s been about five days since then, and you feel that if you fessed up now, she’d be mad that you didn’t tell her right away.

“I’m…” you start as you look at her and she raises an eyebrow at you that makes you sheepishly sit up on your bed, pretty much kneeling in front of her. “Maybe. A little bit? I don’t know.”

She looks at you with surprise before walking backwards and sitting onto her bed, facing you. She presses her lips together, deep in thought, and there’s an almost concerned expression on her face. “When did this develop?”

You end up explaining pretty much everything that has happened between you and Gojo as of recently, her face staying neutral through even the most surprising details, and by the time you’re done explaining and waiting for her to give a response, you realize you’re tensing your shoulders and holding your breath.

She sighs, sulking a little and her bed frame creaks underneath the mattress. “I can’t believe you kissed Gojo Satoru and you didn’t tell me about it, like, practically the second after it happened. Also, you never told me that’s why you called me that night! It makes sense now why your car has been in ‘service’ for almost an entire week. I feel so horrible you went through that and I wasn’t there for you.”

“It’s okay,” you assure her with a small smile. “I’m fine. It was really nerve-wracking in the moment,” you say as you glance down at your hands, twiddling with your thumbs as the memories of that night flash through your mind. “But having him there really helped calm me down,” you admit in a hushed tone. When you look up at Mina, she wears a soft and knowing expression on her face.

“That’s good, I’m glad,” she murmurs and returns your smile with one of her own, but her eyes still look at you with caution.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“Nothing’s wrong, it’s just I don’t really know Gojo that well. From what you’re telling me, he seems like a nice guy,” she comments, “but the fact he’s been really diligent in following-through with this whole film photography assignment of yours makes me wonder where his head’s at with you.” She finishes her sentence, but you continue to watch her since you could tell she had more on her tongue. “I just hope he’s not messing with you.”

“Messing with me?” you ask her. There’s a part of you deep inside that’s wondering the same thing, but the thought of having to confront that feeling in order to get an answer makes you want to stay in blissful ignorance instead.

She worries her bottom lip between her teeth and looks at you for a few seconds. “Maybe I’m overthinking it. It’s just a crush, right?” Her phone chimes with an alarm noise and she grabs it to turn it off. “Oh shoot, I’m going to be late for class,” she groans, leaping up off of her bed and stuffing all of her things on her desk into her bag. She gives you a goodbye over her shoulder just before she heads out of your shared room and then you’re all by yourself.

Mina’s last question to you hangs in the air. You didn’t really know how you would’ve answered, because you didn’t know what you expected to come from your feelings, if anything at all. You’ve had feelings for plenty of other guys before, some turning into something more and others turning into nothing at all. Having feelings for someone wasn’t really something to worry about or complicate.

You lay back down onto your bed with a sigh and go to the messages on your phone, clicking on Gojo’s name. It was so bizarre that he was now in your list of actual text messages since you had his number now, but the two of you have only exchanged a few texts since that night you last saw him. He sent over his practice schedule for the week, which was pretty packed and busy since their big game on the 28th was in just two days, and when you zoom in on the picture you see that he has practice in about ten minutes from now. You assumed that since he never texted you about it, they were probably just doing drills out on the field or some other exercises. But you missed him, and you wished that you did have an excuse to visit him. You didn’t care about tweaking your camera angles, fixing the exposure, or trying out different light sensitivities for your photos so they come out immaculate. You just wanted to see him again.

Tossing your phone to your side, suddenly frustrated by how mentally drained you feel, you look around the room and decide to tidy up a bit to distract yourself from all your emotions. As you start to pick things up off your desk and place them back on the shelf, you notice that you still have a netted bag full of washed laundry to fold. You dump all of the clothing onto your bed, consisting of sports bras, multiple pairs of jeans, your nice panties and also your grandma undies. One of the articles of clothing catches your eye, and you pull it out from the pile. It was Gojo’s jacket.

Your heart skips a beat in your chest as you take in the sight of it, all the memories of that night flashing back into your head. You remember the chill of the air, the deep sound of his voice beside you, the gentle look in his eyes, his lips pressed against yours. Gojo had kissed you, so that had to have meant something, right? Maybe it was a spur of the moment thing, an emotional decision because the two of you were alone, and it was dark, and it was cold, and you two were reveling in each other’s warmth, but it was still something he initiated. It was so brief, the moment cut so tragically short that you still find yourself craving more despite the fact it happened almost a week ago. Mina wasn’t home that night, and instead of spending the rest of it curled up by yourself like you ended up doing, you could’ve easily invited him inside. You wonder if he would’ve taken you up on the offer, and how far you two would’ve gone. And now, because you were imaging it, you find it in your heart that you wanted it. Before you know it, those feelings you swore you wouldn’t complicate started to feel complicated. If all the novels, movies, poems, and folklore of this world have been any indicator, when it comes to matters of the heart, it’s always impossible to defy.

You bring the jacket to your chest, the fabric now smelling like the laundry detergent that all of your other clothes smell like, and no longer of him. It was the polite thing to do to wash it, but the absence of his scent on the soft material just made you miss him even more.

Closing your eyes in disbelief at the thought that crosses your mind, you resolve to act now and deal with whatever comes later. If you wanted to see him, you were going to see him. Besides, wanting to hand his jacket back to him wasn’t so bad of an excuse to drop by, right? What if it was a deeply sentimental article of clothing that is agonizing for him to be apart from? (a/n. he doesn’t even realize you still have it lol)

You grab your tote bag as well as his jacket and head out of your apartment, down to the ground floor, and walk down the street until you reach the bus stop that takes you to campus. You make it there in about forty minutes, the bus dropping you off near the central area. As you start walking towards the expensive art sculpture near the practice fields, you pass by the school’s mini convenience store and the bottles of strawberry vanilla soda splayed out in the display case catches your eye. You then find yourself inside buying two cans. One for him, one for you. Maybe he’ll be open to hanging out after practice, and you could properly treat him to something nice for all of his help.

Soon enough, you’re walking across the grassy hills that lead to the field. It was a slightly gloomy day today, with the sun only peaking through the clouds every five minutes or so, but it was still beautiful and something about the fresh air made your chest swell with ease. Just as you get closer, you notice Geto and Nanami walking together in your direction.

“Oh, it’s y/n!” you hear Geto say when you approach them.

You greet the two of them with a smile. “Hello, it’s nice to see you two. Are you finished with practice?”

“No, we’ve still got about two hours left, but we just finished a pretty intense set of drills so coach is giving us a fifteen,” Geto says through strained breathing, and you finally notice that the two of them looked sweaty and spent. “What’s that in your arms?”

You look down at the strawberry vanilla sodas you were carrying and then back up at the two of them. “Oh…I just wanted to bring some soda for mr. center forward, as a thanks for getting me referee permission to be on-field on Thursday.”

Nanami crosses his arms across his chest and Geto’s eyes widen. “Damn, wish I had a cute girl go out of her way to bring me strawberry-flavored soda mid practice,” Geto muses.

“I don’t think Satoru deserves this level of kindness, y/n,” Nanami tells you with a shake of his head. Geto looks over at him with a wry expression before letting out a small laugh.

You give the two of them a smile. “No, really, he’s been helpful. Is he out on the field?” you ask, standing on tiptoes to try and peer over their shoulders towards the field.

“Yeah, he is, I think he stayed back since Coach Yaga was yelling at him about something,” Geto answers and he takes a glance at his watch, “he usually doesn’t stick around to take the lecturing for longer than two minutes so he’s probably somewhere hanging around nearby.”

“That’s good. Coach Yaga scares me,” you admit to the two of them, pretending to shiver at the thought of him yelling, and this earns a smile from Nanami.

“He’s really not that scary of a guy, just pretends to be one,” Geto informs you then lets out an exhale and places his hands on his hips after fully regaining his breath. “So, you’re going to be on the field with us on Thursday? That’s awesome, please cheer for us. Also, you should come out to the house party the night before the game.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “You guys still party before your big games?”

Geto laughs. “I always forget you’re not in a sorority. Yeah, we do, I think the frat just wants an excuse to go crazy and picks our game schedule to go off of. You’ve no idea how many of our players have been in massive shit by showing up hungover to games.”

Nanami lets out a disgruntled noise. “It’s irresponsible, honestly.”

You give an apologetic laugh before fidgeting with the soda cans in your arms, eventually throwing them into your tote, and then peering over their shoulders once more as an impatient feeling washes over you, the desire from earlier to see Gojo consuming you in a way that was entirely distracting. Nanami seems to notice this as he uncrosses his arms and slightly nudges Geto with his elbow. Geto sends him a curious glance before looking back at you.

“Well, anyway. If you’re free tomorrow night, come by. Pre-game parties are usually pretty hype. Yuuji’s bouncing, so he’ll let you in,” Geto says to you, giving you a kind smile.

“Yeah, I’ll try to make it,” you say, returning his smile. The two of them walk past you and you continue to trek forwards until you reach the large hill that oversees the field.

Once you’re at the top, your eyes immediately scan the field for Gojo, and you quickly spot him at the foot of the hill talking to some people. You notice the group surrounding him weren’t wearing athletic clothing of any sort, so you assumed they were just his friends. He had a bright smile on his face and just the sight of it created a warmth within you. As you begin to stumble down the hill, your legs hasty in their stride, you see him leaning down forward towards one of the girls in the group with a playful look on his face. The girl looks up at him with a tilt of her head and you hear feminine, high-pitched laughter in the air as she steps closer to him, swatting at his chest from something he says. He’s fully grinning at her now, and it’s so painfully obvious they’re flirting that the feeling in your chest that was so excited to see him quickly turns sour.

He somehow catches you standing at the bottom of the hill in his periphery and his eyes widen. There’s a moment where you hesitate, but eventually take a deep breath and make your way through the crowd. A few within the group let out confused noises from the disruption and then you were standing right in front of Gojo.

“Who’s this?” one of his friends asks, particularly annoyed since you had accidentally nudged him to the side in your stride. You could feel the wide eyes from the men and the curious glares from the women.

Gojo’s standing there shocked, likely from the fact that he wasn’t expecting you to be here, and then glances around to the people in the group. “Oh, just someone I…” he starts, his facial expression softening slightly when he looks back at you, but you’re giving him a guarded expression, “...know.”

Your mouth opens slightly in disbelief, before you quickly close it. It’s true that you didn’t really know what you and Gojo were at the moment, it’s possible you would’ve answered the same, but his description of the nature of your relationship with him still hurts. He could’ve at least said your name or introduced you. And your disappointment from his words made you realize an unsettling truth, which was that you did want more from him, and you weren’t sure if that was something he was interested in at all.

The girl he was talking to earlier is glaring daggers at your side, and you suddenly feel suffocated surrounded by a group of people watching you with interest. The man in front of you, despite getting to know him for the better part of the past three weeks, started to feel like a stranger to you all over again. You shove his jacket to his chest, and he looks down at it with surprise before hesitantly grabbing onto it.

“Just wanted to return your jacket,” you mumble to him, trying so hard to sound neutral and sane. “I washed it for you.”

You hear a few of the men surrounding you coo something suggestive, a few laughs making their way between them as the women in the group scoff in denial. You ignore them and keep your gaze on Gojo. He’s looking straight down at you and scanning your features, and you notice his face briefly contorts into one of guilt when he registers the disappointed look on your face.

Reaching into your bag, you pause when you see the two cans of strawberry vanilla soda sitting at the bottom, the smiling cartoon mascot faces on the labeling staring up at you like some pitiful conscience. You reached in and grabbed one regardless, then extended it to Gojo. He blinks at it before looking up at you. When he doesn’t immediately grab it, you also shove it to his chest until he does. When his fingertips make contact with your hand as he takes it from you, the contact sends a shiver down your spine.

You bite your lip, faltering before you speak again. “For your help. Officially even now.” Then you turn around and push through the strangers spectating the whole scene to make it over to the grassy hills. You vaguely hear Gojo call your name out from behind you, his voice quickly drowned out by the voices of those surrounding him as they continue conversation, and soon enough you’re out of sight over the hill.

—

“So, you’re telling me that this guy goes out of his way to help you for this class assignment, in a way that’s unproportionate to the favor that you put in for him, he flirtatiously teases you any chance he gets, drives out late at night to stay with you when you’re stranded with a flat, has an earnest conversation with you about life, kisses you, diligently takes care of you until you’re home safe, and then when you run into him in front of his friends, he says you’re just someone he knows?” Mina’s recounting every single painful detail as she paces around in your shared room. “I know you both haven’t had a conversation about anything after that night, which is insane because you should’ve, but at least he could’ve said you were a friend?”

You scoff from where you’re laid down on your bed. “I caught him sliding his hands up a girl’s top in the bathroom at that SAE party last week, and when he tried to explain the situation to me he said that he and that girl are just friends. So, by his definition, we’re definitely not friends.”

Mina sighs. “Honestly, y/n, I know he’s charming and he’s been nice to you, but he still has a reputation for being a player.”

You look up at the ceiling, your pillow clutched in your arms for emotional support. “He almost looked like he didn’t even want me there. Like I was an unwelcome interruption. Some sort of nuisance.” You weren’t sure exactly how to read the expression he had on his face from your unexpected visit, but your brain had a habit of settling on the worst.

Mina sits down at her desk, turning her chair to face you. You were fully sulking like a heart-broken teenager and you didn’t understand why. He wasn’t any sort of title to you, and you haven’t even known him for that long. Barely a couple weeks ago, you were still resolved to the fact that he was some sort of mystery. An urban legend around campus that you couldn’t believe you were talking to because people like him didn’t usually talk to people like you.

“Why don’t you just ask him how he feels about you? Put an end to the guessing game. Be like ‘hey, jerk, I know it’s common-place for frat dudes to kiss girls like they’re a dime a dozen. But that’s not gonna fly with me, so fess up on your intentions’. Something like that,” Mina suggests, waving a finger in the air.

You glance at her annoyed. “Were you trying to do an impression of me? I don’t talk like that.”

“You kind of do, love,” she says with a smile on her face.

You look back up at the ceiling. “...I don’t want to have that conversation with him. It’ll hurt my pride. He should’ve been the one asking me what we are now, since he’s the one that kissed me.” You turn to gauge her opinion at your words, but her expression isn’t giving any hints. “Is that petty? I feel like I’m being petty.”

“No, girl, I agree with you,” she says with a sigh, “that’s how it should be, but almost never ends up being the case.” She looks up at the ceiling briefly, a thought forming in her head, before looking down at you with a sly smile.

“What?” you ask, already wearily anticipating her response.

“You want to know how to find out how he feels about you without asking him how he feels about you?” she says like it was some sort of sales pitch.

You turn onto your side and perch yourself up on your elbow, a little too interested. “How?”

She snaps her fingers. “Make him jealous.”

You look at her apprehensively. “Jealous?”

“I mean, that’s the foolproof way to tell how a guy really feels about you. Based on how he reacts when he sees another guy’s tongue shoved down your throat,” she says with a playful shrug.

You flop down on the bed again. “Now that’s petty.” You hug your pillow to your chest again, considering the option. You didn’t even know if Gojo would feel jealous if you tried to make him jealous, it’s possible he wouldn’t even care at all if he saw you with another guy.

“Yes, petty, but so what? We’re seniors in college, now’s our last chance to be petty. After we graduate, we’ve got to be fully functioning members of society,” she sighs, “you only get to be a petty college chick once.”

“How would I make him jealous?” you ask, still dwelling on her suggestion.

“Well, SAE is having that pre-game party tonight, he’s definitely going to be there. It’s your chance,” she says, tapping at her phone to glance at the time.

You hum to yourself. The mature part of you is telling you that it’s a ridiculous idea, but the angel on your shoulder that has weathered the pain of all your confusing feelings as of lately was starting to play devil’s advocate. After a minute’s silence, you cover your face with your hand and groan. “Oh god.”

Mina looks up at you again. “What?”

“I’m gonna do it,” you say, swinging your feet over to the edge of the bed so you’re sitting up, pillow still hugged to your chest as you look at her. “I’m going to go find out how he really feels about me.”

Mina’s smiling at you and hops onto her feet. “Finally. I’ve been waiting for the toxic version of you to make her appearance.”

There was still a couple of hours before the party, so you take a shower and spend some time doing your hair as well as makeup. Wearing your robe, you walk over to your dresser and open it to pull out a pair of jeans when Mina looks over at you and sighs. You send her a look and she makes her way over to you, nudging you to the side with her hip and shoving your jeans back into the drawer.

“You’re not wearing jeans to this party,” she groans, “do I seriously have to teach you everything?” Mina starts shifting through the clothes you had hung up on your hangers, eyes landing on something that was tucked away to the side. She pulls out your black dress, the one that had long, skin tight sleeves with a sweetheart neckline and the short hem that barely fell to the middle of your thighs. She pats at the soft and silky material, pulling on it in an attempt to smooth out one of the wrinkles. “Oh, yes, honey. This will definitely do.”

“It’s wrinkled,” you say in a poor attempt to get out of wearing it.

“Nothing my straightener set at 350 degrees won’t fix,” she says to you with a wink.

It takes Mina three minutes to prepare your dress for you while you anxiously pace around the room, fidgeting to yourself, and she eventually hands it to you to wear. The dress had an A-line silhouette cinched at the waist and the top half was tight, so you decided not to wear a bra with it. Just as you’re about to pull on a pair of biker shorts underneath to cover a bit more since the short fabric was hardly doing much, Mina sends you another disappointed look.

“y/n, please, you’re killing me here,” she says. “To make him jealous, you’ve gotta get other guys to look at you. That might mean being a bit risque with the attire tonight.”

You sulk your shoulders before sighing and tossing your biker shorts back into your closet. You turn around to face the mirror, petting down the fabric of your dress over you and tousling with your hair before gasping a little as you take in your entire appearance. You looked good, and Mina’s playful cat-call from behind you only gave you a greater kick of confidence.

“Love it, cute but sexy at the same time,” she says with a smile. “It’s your turn to be the hottie at the party.”

You two decide to take an Uber to the frat strip, arriving at the host house close to 10pm, and you can already hear the loud chanting and music inside. As you make your way up to the driveway, a gust of wind breezes by and your hands immediately hold down the fabric of your dress in an attempt to not flash the group of people walking behind the two of you. Mina looks over at you with a mischievous smile. You make eye contact with Yuuji at the entrance and he straightens his posture when he sees you and Mina approaching.

“Hello, ladies. I see we’ve switched roles here tonight,” Yuuji says with a tip of his head. “Bombshell friend,” he gestures to you, “and-”

“If you call me a casual tomboy, I can’t guarantee I won’t smack you,” Mina says to him.

Yuuji blinks at her. “Head on in,” he mumbles and you two walk past him.

It hits you as you walk inside that this is the third SAE party that you’ve been to within the past three weeks, and yet the atmosphere still surprises you every time. The music was loud, but at this one, the people chanting was even louder. You notice there were posters and flags with the school’s colors and symbols plastered up and hanging from the staircase, as well as pinned up jerseys on the walls that looked a lot like the ones that the soccer players wear during matches. Oh, and derogatory insults for the opposing school were drawn across all the decorations.

“I’m going to go find Todo,” Mina says to you with excitement and then she’s skipping off into the heart of the party, leaving you alone.

You sigh and fidget with the sleeves of your dress, looking around the party, your heart beating fast in your chest at the prospect that you’ll lock eyes with Gojo but you don’t see him anywhere. As you walk inside, you notice that people are looking at you, and when you make eye contact with some, you notice a lot of them were men, and the attention has you itching for a drink. You quickly make your way into the kitchen and are satisfied when you see the insane amount of options that you can reach for on the island. You grab a White Claw, crack the can open and when you turn around, you jump a little from the sight of a person in front of you.

“Woah, sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” the man in front of you says with an apologetic look on his face, and you recognize him as the one that was bouncing the last SAE party that you went to last weekend. “Just going to reach around you to grab…that.” He reaches around you to grab an entire bottle of tequila, his arm brushing against yours and his eyes meet yours with a smile on his face. “I remember you from last week. You’re stunning by the way, what’s your name?”

You tell him and he’s nodding his head slowly, a cheeky look on his face that you’re used to seeing when guys attempt small talk to distract from the other less-than-innocent things they have floating around in their heads. “Nice, I’m Ryota,” he says as he adjusts the snap-back he was wearing on his head, “you, uh, in a sorority?” He leans back against the kitchen counter in front of you and you wonder if grabbing the tequila was just an excuse to talk to you.

You find yourself turning away from him slightly, taking a huge gulp of the White Claw you had in your hands to realize that 8% ALC./VOL was not going to be enough to get you through the night, so you turned to face him again. “No, I’m not. Are you going to drink all that tequila by yourself or are you looking to share?”

He smirks at you. “There’s enough for two.”

You and this man you met literally two minutes ago cheers a few shots, throwing them back, and you notice that he does them almost effortlessly while you’re wincing from the fact that it’s been a long time since you’ve had hard liquor. He’s chuckling at your reactions as your face scrunches up from your third shot and you wave your hand in front of your face from the burn. A few people that walk in and out of the kitchen periodically give the two of you amused looks before walking back out into the loud party nearby.

“Can’t handle your alcohol?” Ryota asks and you sigh, your face already feeling flushed.

“I can, I swear,” you whine.

“Here, wanna?” he says to you as he hands you another shot and then he holds his outstretched arm up. You think he’s trying to cheers, so you tap his shot glass, and then he’s laughing. “No, hold your arm out.” You do as he says and he holds his arm against yours and soon enough he’s taking a step closer to you and you’re interlocking your arms at the elbow. You let out a small gasp from his proximity but his eyes on you are unwavering. He brings his shot glass to his lips and you do the same and then you both tip your heads back, the burn in your throat making you unwind your arm from him and shake your head until you’re leaning back against the island counter and you hear him laugh again in front of you.

“Y/n?” a familiar voice calls out that instantly sobers you up from the four shots of tequila you so valiantly threw back.

The two of you turn your heads to look at the source of the voice, and you see Gojo standing at the entrance of the kitchen. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him and you feel your heart skip a beat in your chest, still so shocked at just how breathtaking he was anytime you saw him. He was holding an empty bottle of alcohol in his hands. You straighten your posture but Ryota still leans against the counter nonchalantly.

“Hey, what’s up dude. Sorry, I was about to circle back with more tequila, but I got caught up in here,” Ryota says and flashes you a smile. “Do you know y/n here?”

You observe Gojo, who wears a tense expression in response to hearing his words, and then he locks eyes with you. A look of surprise swiftly passes across his face as he takes in your appearance, and you feel as if you're practically burning under his gaze. He looks back at Ryota and furrows his brow.

“Yeah, I do,” he mutters and rudely pushes right in between the two of you to make it to the fridge. “Seems like you do, too.”

Ryota seems to pick up on something from Gojo's tone that you don’t, because suddenly he’s standing up straight from the counter and turns to look at you with a contemplative expression. "I'll bring the tequila, or what's left of it I guess, out there," he mentions to Gojo, excusing himself with a brief glance in your direction. As he leaves and turns around the corner, a noticeable weight hangs in the air from how you and Gojo are alone in the kitchen now.

You lean back against the island, reaching for the White Claw you had opened earlier and take another sip. There was a muted buzz lingering in your head, and it felt good, offering a pretty welcome distraction from the fact that Gojo was standing just a few feet away from you, searching for something in the fridge. When he doesn’t seem to find what he’s looking for, he closes the fridge door with a louder-than-normal slam, startling you, and then he turns around to face you.

“Didn’t know you’d be here,” he declares with an edge to his voice, and you’re already rolling your eyes.

“Sorry, pal, should I send you a notarized attendance letter three business days in advance so I don’t end up cock-blocking you in a bathroom again?” you sneer at him.

He leans back against the fridge, facing you as he crosses his arms across his chest. Damn it, don’t stare at the muscles. Don’t do it. “What’s with the attitude?”

“I don’t have an attitude, this is just how I talk to my acquaintances,” you retort as you take another sip of your drink.

He takes a step forward to you, eyes shamelessly dipping to the neckline of your dress and then a little bit further to where the hem grazes your thighs. He places his palm on the counter behind you that you were resting back on and then he’s leaning closer to you, your grip on the can in your hand tightening. He was so close that you can’t think of anything but him. His eyes are on your lips when he speaks. “Are we just acquaintances?”

You narrow your eyes at him, all of your anger from yesterday and earlier today resurfacing at his question as you look up at him straight in the eyes. “Yes, I’m only someone you know, right?”

He’s sighing and you can tell he wants to pull away from you to display his annoyance, but he stays right where he’s at. The hand that was placed on the counter slowly inches towards your waist until his thumb is brushing against the fabric of your dress just underneath your rib cage. He starts to draw slow circles on the material, pressing into your skin occasionally, and you‘re breathless from the contact. “I’m getting the hint that you’re mad at me about something, but it’s hard to care when you’re looking like this.”

You let out a scoff at his words. You’ve spent the past two days suffering from his behavior, and he’s trying to get away with it by practically seducing you. But there was also a part of you that was entirely aroused by how little he seemed to care about your attitude and how much more he seemed to care about the way you were worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. “Looking like what?”

The thumb that was pressing against the clothed skin of your waist retreats and his hand moves back to where it was before, laid flat on the counter next to you, except this time his other arm reaches out for the surface too. And now he’s got you caged-in, looking down at you like he’s trying really hard to not get even closer. “Looking hot as fuck? You’re kind of vain for making me say it out loud.”

You’re effectively dazed out of your goddamn mind at this point, using all the self-control you’ll have for the rest of a lifetime to not grab onto his shirt and pull him into you, all inhibitions lost to the wind. You wouldn’t even care if anyone walked in, you just needed him on you, touching you, kissing you right now. But there’s a tiny part of you that’s still mad at him, and fortunately that tiny part of you pulls through. “If you think trying to seduce me is going to make me not angry anymore, you’re out of luck.”

“I’m not trying to seduce you. You think this is me trying to seduce you? If that’s so, I’m starting to worry you won’t be able to take it,” he whispers that last part so suggestively that you’re weak in the knees from his words. He seemed so different, entirely preoccupied by taking in the sight of every inch of you in front of him that any sense of shame or guilt has left his body, and he’s just looking at you with desire.

“Satoru…” is all you manage to say as you look up at him, your thighs clenching from the arousal of just his presence surrounding you.

You see him close his eyes for a second and exhale before he opens them, his pupils all the way dilated and wild when he looks at you again. “Yeah?” he responds, his head dipping down towards yours slightly, lips just inches from yours, like he’s waiting for your permission to act.

“I…” you start, blinking up at him through your lashes, “...I was having a lot of fun earlier throwing back shots of tequila, and you kind of ruined that. So, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get back to it.” You place a hand on his chest, his gaze dropping to it in surprise as he watches you push him away from you all the way until his back hits the fridge with a thud.

“What the fuck?” he utters, his face contorted into a confusion you found incredibly comical.

You press up against him, looking up with round eyes and innocence, and you feel him immediately tense up. “Also, very inappropriate to treat someone you barely know like that. I’ll let it slide, though.”

The last thing you see before you turn away from him is his shocked expression, blinking at you with the rest of him practically motionless, and you skip out of the kitchen towards the main party happening around the corner out of his sight.

There were bustling people, a few guys coming up to you to talk to you, but you ignore them until you spot Geto, Nanami, some of the other soccer players, and a bunch of other people huddled around in a circle. You tap on Geto’s shoulder and he turns around to face you.

“Oh! Hey, what’s up, you made it,” Geto greets you, pulling you in for a brief hug which surprises you but was also pleasantly received as you hugged him back with a friendly pat. You could smell the alcohol from him. When he pulls away from you, he’s beaming. “We’re all doing rounds of shots, wanna join?”

“Oh my god, the words I’ve been wanting to hear all night,” you say and you join the circle, a bunch of people cheering as they usher you towards the center and you grab a shot glass from the small round table. A group of maybe fifteen people all raise their shot glasses up in the air, you included, and say some incoherent, non-rehearsed words of luck for the soccer team’s game tomorrow before everyone throws back their shots. You’re squealing and jumping up and down in excitement with Geto and watch as Nanami pretends to throw back his shot before dumping its contents into a red plastic solo cup in his hand instead.

“This is so much fun!” you’re yelling. “Can we do another?”

“Hey! New girl wants to do another,” one of the frat dudes calls out, which is followed by cheers and then messy pouring of tequila all over the table as people extend their shot glasses out to be filled.

Two, three, four, eventually five is your limit until you wander away from the circle, entirely tipsy at this point, over to where people were dancing in front of the DJ’s booth. You bump into some couples that were grinding up on each other, your drunk conscience shamelessly watching their movements, and then accidentally bump into a man so hard that it almost sends you falling back onto the ground but he grabs your arm and keeps you upright. His drink spills a bit out of his hand and onto your dress, making you giggle like a freak.

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” he’s yelling to you over the music.

“No, I’m sorry,” you yell back, and then you notice he’s wearing a jacket that mimics the patterns of the school’s soccer jersey and has an embroidered player’s number on the chest. It hits you that you’ve seen him on the field before briefly during the practices you’ve been to. “Are you on the soccer team?”

“Yeah, I am,” he says and he tells you his name but the music is way too loud to hear it, and you’re also sort of drunk at this point to register it anyways. But he was cute, and you decided you wanted to dance with him, and dance away is exactly what you do.

When he twirls you around and presses his chest against your back, your line of sight falls straight ahead to where you see Gojo sitting on a couch. Your heart sinks in your chest when you see a girl place a hand on his thigh and lean towards him, practically sitting in his lap, but the look on his face tells you he’s entirely distracted by something else. His eyes search the room for a few seconds, and when they land on you, he stills. When he tilts his head up to peer behind you and sees who you were dancing with, a look of shock crossed his face.

For fucks sake, you wouldn’t flirt with one of his teammates, right?

In your drunk, hazy mind, Mina’s words flash by in your head. The foolproof way to tell how a guy really feels about you is based on how he reacts when he sees another guy’s tongue shoved down your throat.

You turn around, reach up and pull the man you were dancing with down towards you, and you kiss him. The man hesitates, clearly surprised, before moving his lips against yours and just when you feel his hands make their way to your waist, you’re being yanked away from him by the arm. When you turn to look at the perpetrator, you see a very viscerally angry-looking Gojo in front of you and a chill runs down your spine.

Oh god, he looked pissed. If looks could kill, you’d be six feet under right now.

He pulls you by your forearm over to the stairs, and you’re protesting, trying to yank away from his harsh grip, but he doesn’t budge as he takes you up to the second floor and just when you two have made it into the secluded hallway, he pushes you up against the wall, caging you into it with his body.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he scowls at you, leaning in closer, tone so searing it’s enough to set you on fire.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” you yell back at him, anger rising within you.

“You’re seriously turning out to be a real fucking pain in the ass,” he hisses the words, his eyes darting across your face before settling on your lips.

“Why do you care? I’m just-” you start but he interrupts you when his lips crash down on yours, taking you by surprise. His kiss was hungry, ravenous, all-consuming. So different from that night when he kissed you for the first time with nothing but tenderness. This one felt like he wanted to take everything from you, leaving nothing behind. His hands find your waist, pulling you closer to him, and your arms slide up past his shoulders, locking behind his neck, and he’s groaning against your mouth before biting at your bottom lip. When you grant him access, he deepens the kiss and the taste of him intoxicates you.

“If you imply that you’re just a stranger to me one more fucking time,” he’s growling against your mouth, “I’ll make sure we get real well acquainted with eachother against this wall right now.” His hands find the flesh underneath your ass and he easily hoists you up, your legs immediately wrapping around his waist. “Ask me if I give a fuck if anyone sees.”

“Oh my god,” you’re gasping, his words hitting you straight to your core, and when you feel his clothed erection pressed against the flimsy cloth of your panties, the self-resolution you once had was all but a distant memory. “Satoru, bathroom, please, not here.”

When you tip your head back, giving him access to your neck and he immediately indulges, peppering kisses down your skin, you roll your hips against his and he squeezes the flesh of your ass hard to reprimand the motion before he takes you into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him, then setting you up on the counter.

His kisses get lower until he’s at your collarbone, and he pulls you forward towards him on the surface to where you’re sitting at the edge and he has his hands digging at the soft flesh of your thighs. You’re squirming in his grasp, gripping onto his shirt for any sort of purchase. When his kissing reaches the neckline of your dress and his finger hooks the fabric, threatening to pull it down, he looks at you.

“Please,” you ask him simply.

He raises an amused eyebrow, pulling down the fabric slowly to just above where your nipples would be set free. “You think you’re in a position to ask for anything from me right now?”

“Oh my fucking god I swear, if you don’t yank my dress down, I’ll choke you,” you threaten him.

“Careful, pretty, I might be into that,” he chides, pressing a kiss to your chest.

You grab the wrist of the hand that was still hooked inside your cleavage, and pull it down harshly so your tits are set free and he leans away from you to take in the sight. He’s mesmerized for a moment, his hand wrapping around your rib cage and thumb poking the softness from the side before it eventually reaches your nipple and starts to play with it. “God, you’re so beautiful. Remind me why we didn’t do this the first night we met?”

When his mouth latches onto your nipple, you tip your head back with a moan and you’re not able to come up with an answer to his question. Because he was right, it was insane that the two of you didn’t. Your hand runs through the short hair of his undercut at the nape of his neck and then grips at the soft strands a bit higher as he sucks and licks at your breasts. You wrap your legs around him tighter, pulling his hips to you, and from the edge of the counter you start to roll your wet panties against the bulge at his front to get relief. He groans against your chest before pulling away.

“You need to relax. Real fuckin’ desperate now compared to when you were pushing me away in the kitchen thirty minutes ago,” he scolds, his lips finding yours again and one of his hands trails up the skin of your thigh. You open your legs even wider for him sweetly and he smiles against your lips, his fingers brushing the skin of your inner thigh and then finally pressing against your clothed core. You instantly jolt, entirely stimulated by the contact, and he pulls away from the kiss to watch you.

“S-Satoru…” you whimper because it’s all you can manage to say, your hips pushing forward, craving more of his touch, but he withdraws from your heat all together and steps away from you, his grip on your hips dragging you forward until you step down from the counter and you’re standing in front of him, looking up like you don’t even know how to breathe unless he talks you through it. He turns you around to where you’re facing the mirror, and it’s the first time you take a look at how messed up he’s gotten you. Your cheeks were flushed, lips swollen, eyes a little teary from the lust consuming you. Your tits that appeared plush and perked by the haphazard way the neckline of your dress was tucked underneath them were glistening with his saliva and you felt like you were about to go insane at the sight. You take a look at his face in the reflection, and he too looked like he was about to go insane at the sight.

“Bend over the counter,” he demands with a rough voice, but you don’t have much of a choice since he’s pushing down on your back anyways. You’ve risen up onto your tiptoes to accommodate the position and he lazily flips the fabric of your dress up over your ass before his hands hook into the side of your panties at your hips, pulling them down, and you feel the fabric practically peel off of you from how wet you were. And then he was on his knees behind you.

“Fuck, why didn’t we do this the first night we met?” he laments, marveling at the sight of you bent over for him.

“You already asked that question,” you mumble.

“Cause it still doesn’t make any fucking sense to me,” he sighs and then he drags his index finger into your folds, from your entrance that was sopping wet all the way down to your clit. You’re wiggling, pushing your hips out towards him, and you hear him let out a low, guttural sound in his chest at the sight. His finger experimentally pushes into you and you’re gasping, hand slamming against the mirror.

“You’re so sensitive. Need a second?” he asks like he’s genuinely looking out for you, and yet he doesn’t wait before pushing another finger into you regardless.

“Mhh..n-no, just need your tongue,” you say through a shaky breath, panting from where you were on the counter.

He groans at your request and pulls his fingers out of you, instantly making you whine, before giving you a different reason to whine when his tongue presses against your clit.

Your mind was going insane, still registering the shock that this was happening as you moaned from the feeling of his tongue on you, mouth latching on and sucking harshly at your sensitive core that has you writhing and grasping onto anything you could find for purchase. The man that was making a mess at the most intimate part of you right now seemed so different from that kind man last week that pressed that chaste kiss to your lips. This was like you had just summoned the devil and he was on his knees behind you.

You make a mental note to never doubt any of Mina’s advice ever again.

When his hungry lapping at your clit turns into slow, lazy licks against your folds, you whimper above him and attempt to grind against his mouth so his tongue is where you want it. “Mm…p-please, stop teasing, I wanna cum.”

He pulls his mouth from you and you feel how slick he’s made you, nothing but a mess of your arousal and his spit, before he pushes two fingers inside you and stretches you out inside with them. “But do you deserve to cum, is the question, sweetheart,” he drawls, curling his fingers inside and pressing on that spot that had your walls fluttering around him and building that tight knot in your lower tummy.

“Yes, I do, fuck,” you’re moaning as he slowly starts to pump his fingers in and out of you, “less talking, more licking my clit.”

His other hand finds your clit, fingers beginning to rub agonizingly slow circles, and you can feel the texture of his calluses across every single nerve ending of the aching bud. “What was that, baby? You want me to be stingy with my tongue? Alright, whatever you say, princess,” he sighs it like he has no choice but to be a fucking dick right now.

“No, oh my god, don’t be stingy with your tongue,” you cry out, your cheek pressing up against the mirror from the sheer desperation of wanting a release, “I’ll kill you.”

“Can’t make you cum if I’m dead,” he purrs. “God, your pussy’s going crazy right now, clenching around my fingers like it’s got a mind of its own. Can’t wait to fuck you,” he’s groaning, “so sweet, so tight, so wet. Exactly how I imagined it.”

“Y-You’ve imagined this?” you whimper to him when he starts to fully fuck you with his fingers.

“So many fucking times,” he grumbles, his other hand now gripping your ass and thumb spreading you more open. You blush from how exposed you felt to him, but the noises he was making from the deepest part within his chest made you realize he was a freak for it. He pulls his fingers out of you and then uses both hands to spread your folds apart as he laps at the wetness that was practically dripping from your entrance. “What your world would be like if this was your little ‘terms and conditions’ favor instead.”

His tongue latches onto your clit again and your knees almost buckle. “M-Make me cum and maybe I’ll finally regret the fact that it wasn’t,” you say to him, desperate to coax something feral from him that finally grants you release of the tension building at your core. You’re unable to stay still, squirming and squealing above him, so hopelessly at his mercy.

“Say you’ll never kiss another guy except me ever again,” you hear him grumble with his face still buried in your cunt.

“w-what…” you say, exhaling incredulously, “S-Satoru…you don’t make any sense…we’re not even dat-”

“Say it, and I’ll let you cum,” he tells you simply, pulling his mouth from you again just when you felt like you were about to topple over and you’re about ready to kick him in the face at this point. You try to look over your shoulder to read his facial expression but when his fingers take their position over your clit and he starts to draw stars, you quickly give up and rest your forehead on the mirror. Oh god, this was good, if he just kept going-

As if he could read your mind, he pulls his fingers from your clit entirely, leaving your core agonizingly empty from any part of his touch, and it makes you gasp. You’ve never felt more betrayed in your life.

“Oh my god, okay okay okay!” you’re screaming, sticking your ass out to him and he’s chuckling at the sight. “I’ll never kiss another guy again! Fucking hell, Satoru, please, just make me cum,” you beg, whimpering and almost crying, your thighs twitching from the urge to clench together for some form of relief in his absence.

He seems satisfied by your begging, because he immediately grabs your ass with both hands, one of his thumbs pushing shallowly into your drenched entrance, and then his mouth finds your clit again. You close your eyes shut, and you could feel that you were just seconds away from cumming as he simultaneously sucks and licks relentlessly on the sensitive bundle of nerves. It’s when he groans against your center with such a primal frequency, sending shockwaves of vibrations to your center and throughout your entire body, that you fall apart for him and you come undone so violently that your knees entirely give out, and you’re screaming his name. He wraps an arm around your legs to keep you from falling as you squirm on the counter, your walls pulsing and clenching, hips twitching, and then you’re finally calming down. You lay blissfully on the surface, head down, breathing heavily with soft, remnant whimpers leaving your lips.

You hear Gojo let out a short exhale from behind you that almost sounds like he’s in disbelief. When you turn slightly to look back at him, you see he’s palming himself through his pants and looking directly at your cunt. “You’re dripping onto the floor, fuck.” He catches a drop of slick, clear arousal as it falls from your entrance, immediately bringing it to his tongue and licking it off his finger before standing up.

You barely manage to push your upper body up so that you’re standing, shaking arms working overtime to hold yourself up, and he comes up behind you to press his chest against your back, looking at you in the mirror. He was breathing heavily too, his mouth near your ear and his eyes lidded with lust. You reach your arm up and behind him to grab at the soft tufts of hair at the back of his head, your back arching from the motion, and he groans as he pushes his clothed erection against your ass, head dropping close to your shoulder from the pleasure and he presses a kiss to your skin. The image in front of you, with his broad shoulders and frame completely engulfing yours whole, your hips slightly rocking forwards and pushing against the counter from his indulgent grinding behind you, his hand reaching up to pinch and play with your nipple, it was all so erotic that you were already aching for more. He effectively finger-fucked, licked, and sucked the anger out of you, and that was a dangerous fact.

His fingers grazed up the side of your waist that the fabric of your dress still clung tightly to, and he loosely held onto you, sighing against the back of your neck which sent shivers down your spine. His eyes meet yours in the mirror. “So pretty like this. Turn around and face me, baby, reflection’s not enough,” he says to you and you do as he says, twirling around. His eyes take in the sight of you, his thumb coming up to press at the soft flesh of your breast and you can see it in his eyes that he was worshipping you.

You finally take in the entire image of his appearance. His chest was heaving, hair disheveled, shirt was wrinkled at the front from when you were grabbing onto it earlier. There’s a crease to his brow when he looks at you, and you realize that this is not the first time you’ve seen him look exactly like this in a party bathroom. Except the last time, it was from reasons other than your own.

And then there’s that sinking feeling in your chest again.

Just when you observe that spark of intense lust in his eyes, pupils dilated like wild, see it flash through his mind that he thinks he’s about to get lucky with you tonight, you find yourself pushing him away from you for the second time tonight. You’ve got him with his back pressed up against the wall while he looks down at you with confusion, and this time there’s desperation and panic there too.

You look up at him with a discerning softness, and all those tender feelings you’ve been experiencing for the past week come crashing down on you all at once, but your heart aches with their memory. When his eyes study your face, there’s a brief second where he’s surprised to see the way you’re looking at him, and his jaw clenches slightly.

“Thanks, I really needed this,” you whisper to him, hand patting his chest reassuringly as you try to keep your composure in front of him despite the hollow feeling in your chest, “gave me some clarity. Don’t follow me.” And then you step away from him, pull your panties back up into place, adjust the neckline of your dress up over to cover your chest, then you make your way to exit.

“What? Wait-” he scrambles, sounding stunned from behind you as you open the bathroom door, walk right out into the hallway and close the door behind you, not all the way but just enough so you were out of his line of sight.

You sigh to yourself for a second as you step to the side, fixing at your hair, then take a deep breath as you walk down the hall. It registers in your mind that he listens, never following after you.

a/n. reader is soooo messy for doing this to him right before his big game lol i'm like scared for her even though i'm literally the author hahha. i hope to see you in the next one! much love

➸ take me to chapter seven!

tag list: @who-can-touch-my-boob @getitsatoru @kissofife @tiredflame132 @cliosunshine @ethereally-lyann @prince-wyiilder @slut-4-gojo @cactisjuice (decided to tag all interacts too just so it's not missed if that's ok! love you all sm)

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harrysfolklore · 9 months

Text

love on tour, forever - blurb

i watched harry’s video and got super inspired to write this, it’s definitely one of my favorite things i’ve done so i hope you like it 🥺

ALL GIFS ARE BY @delicatepointofview FOLLOW THEM FOR THE BEST GIFS EVER <33

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

“Do you think I should pack this?” you asked holding a video camera up, catching Harry’s attention.

“That would be great, love,” he said from the bed, watching you add the final items to your suitcase, “That way you can film me while I shower for when we’re apart.”

“Oh shut up,” you rolled your eyes with affection and he smirked, “I’m filming special moments with this, you know, backstage moments your photographers don’t always catch.”

“Bummer,” he shrugged, making you roll your eyes at him again, “I’m just kidding love, that is a very lovely idea.”

“It’s settled then.” You smiled at him and put the camera in your suitcase, knowing that by the end of the tour, it would be filled with the most special and heartfelt moments.

“What are you doing down there, lovie?”

“Making sure I get all of your angles,” you shrugged, focused on your video camera, “Here’s the rockstar, getting his steps in before hitting the stage.”

He let out a laugh before you could catch a flash of mischief in his eyes, “You know, there’s another way I could get my cardio in.”

“Stop it, you’re on camera,” you held your finger up and gave him warning eyes, you were planing on showing this videos to his mom who couldn’t be with him all the time, and the last thing you wanted was her knowing abouthis shenanigans, “How are you feeling, nervous about tonight’s performance?”

“I feel good,” he said truthfully, “I’m excited to see everyone and sing our songs, but most importantly I’m excited to wear sparkly gear again.”

“There he is, there he is,” you couldn’t help but shake your head and smile, “I’m going to film the real stars of the show, Mitch and Sarah, so say bye.”

“Bye YN’s camera! Such a shame you’re not catching my post workout shower!”

“It’s negative!” Nyoh said as she entered the room, making everyone cheer and clap.

“We’re not sick! That deserves a happy dance!” Harry said as he stood up and danced goofily around the room, making everyone laugh at him.

Looking at your camera sitting at the table, you decided it was a golden moment you couldn’t afford to miss.

“Okay Ny-ny, could you hold your test up so everyone knows why this man-child is dancing like a fool,” Nyoh showed her test to the camera, laughing as you moved it to show Harry who kept on dancing, “Sometimes I don’t know if I’m dating an adult or a five year old.”

“Come on lovie, dance with me!” he approached you, holding his hand out, “If you don’t I’m going to be sad” he said in a dramatic voice, and you passed your camera to Sarah who was sitting next to you, getting her to film the both of you.

“I want to kiss you right now but we can’t take off our masks,” Harry said before a minute of jumping around, “Easy tiger, we’ll be alone soon.”

“Rehearsal time!” you said cheerfully, filming everyone on stage, “Here’s Sarah, Mitch, Pauli, Niji, Ny,” they all waved as you mentioned their names, “And there’s a dude called Harry who claims to be the headliner of the show, no one knows him tho.”

“Come on woman,” Harry gave you an annoyed playful look, “You know me, very well. Actually you know parts of my body that-“

“Harry! What’s with you and your horny comments all the time, you’re like a teenager!” you shook your head, all of his bandmates laughing at your banter.

“Can you blame me? I go home to you every night, I’m a lucky bastard.”

“That you are!” Pauli chimed in, making everyone laugh again.

The band continued rehearsing, you standing in a corner and catching some moments on video. Once they were done with Canyon Moon, Harry called for you.

“So, love. What do you think? Do we sound good.” Harry asked, looking at your with happy eyes, aware that you were still getting it all on camera.

“If by we you mean your band, they sound amazing as always. If you’re included in that ‘we’ then I don’t know, you should practice some more”.

Harry threw his head back in laughter, grabbing the hem of his shirt with one hand and his mic with the other, “Why are you sassy with me today! What have I done?”

You only shrugged and laughed along with him, getting on your tiptoes and kissing his cheek softly.

“Practice some more, I said!”

“Aren’t you the cutest little thing ever?” you cooed at the baby in your lap, Mitch and Sarah asked you to watch their son while they run something with the rest of the band and you were more than happy to do it, “You’re the sweetest boy I know!”

“I thought I was the sweetest boy you knew!” Harry’s voice made its way to you ears, he entered the room accompanied by Mitch and Sarah, the baby instantly making grabby hands at his mom.

“You’re not a boy anymore, you’re basically pushing 30!”

“Don’t remind me!” he dramatically said, “I’m still young and full of life.”

The four of you laughed, Sarah moving to sit next to you and Mitch and Harry hanging out by the door.

“Did he give you any trouble?” Sarah asked, looking down at her son, “He just learned how to walk without any help do he could be a handful sometimes.”

“Not at all, he’s the easiest baby ever.” You smiled at them tenderly.

“He’s not only obsessed with walking, he’s obsessed with dancing too.” Mitch said before taking a sip out of his wine glass, he’s never without one.

“Oh! I didn’t know that!” Harry said excitedly, “Baby, dance for us!”

Sarah put him down and Harry tried to make a melody by hitting the wall and mumbling random stuff, the boy instantly moving his body in an adorable way that made everyone laugh and awe at him.

Harry noticed that you had grabbed your camera to film the moment and he spoke directly to it, “That’s it! We have Love On Tour’s official dancer”

“Here’s the boss man, with his brand new Love On Tour jacket,” you filmed Harry, who was posing by the door showing off his new clothing, “I have my own too, with my name on it and all,” you turned the camera around to show yours briefly before turning it to Harry again, “Anything you would like to say?”

“It’s show time, baby!” he bobbed his head, making the sunglasses who were resting on his head fall to his eyes.

You burst out laughing and so did he after a minute of holding his straight face, “You’re such a dork!”

“But you love me a lot!”

“Eu te amo, Brasil!” Harry yelled to the empty stadium after sound-checking Lights Up.

“As you can see, he’s excited to be here,” you zoomed in on him with your camera, “We love this country so much.”

“We do, we do,” Harry agreed, “I’m putting on my best dance clothes and shoes tonight, this show is going to be massive!”

“You’re a dancer now?” you asked to piss him off.

“Of course! Look at my moves.” He grabbed his mic with one hand, putting the other on his hip and moving funnily.

“Look at that! You’re going straight to Dancing with the Stars after this tour.”

“I’m more of a Dancing Moms kinda guy.” He shrugged, making everyone laugh before moving on with the next song to rehearse.

“There it is, the 10th tweet about how they’re going to the show for Lloyd only.” You giggled, scrolling down your timeline while Harry watched over your shoulders.

“Okay, that’s it,” he said before standing up, “Lloyd Wakefield !” at this, the photographer turned his head around, previously in a conversation with Madi and some other crew members.

“Yes?” Lloyd asked in a confused tone, you stood back and grabbed your camera, knowing a funny moment you would love to remember was coming.

“I might have to fire you,” Harry said, his voice trying to sound serious but his eyes gave him away, “You’re stealing the show and I can’t accept that.”

Lloyd rolled his eyes and everyone in the room turned their attention to them with grins on their faces, they were used to Harry’s humor.

“Yeah? And who’s going to be your photographer now?”

“Or we could solve this like manly man, with a fight.”

“As if you would fight anyone!” you chimed in from your place, making them turn your attention to you.

“Is that my own girlfriend doubting me?” he said, faking an offended tone, “Bring it in, Wakefield”

Lloyd laughed but played along, bringing his arms up and playfully challenging Harry, but somehow they ended up putting their hands together and moving them back and forth.

“Look at the manly man, fighting for who’s the star of the show,” you said, your camera focusing on them, “Just another day on the road.”

“I don’t know what we’re doing but I’m winning!” Harry chirped and everyone laughed again.

“Harry! Harry! Harry!”

Was all that was heard backstage at Reggio Emilia RFC Arena, some people holding up champagne glasses and jumping up and down.

“We did it!” Harry yelled as he placed himself in the center of the room, his vest long forgotten, jumping and twirling along with the cheers.

As usual, you were holding your camera, filming the special you knew he would want to replay over and over again.

“Congratulations baby, another world tour completed!” you said to him, “Any final words you would like to say to the camera.”

Harry paused to think for a few seconds before speaking, “I love you, that’s all,” she shook his head almost in disbelief, “You have been here for every step of the way, and that means the world to me, none of this would be possible without you.”

“Awe! Aren’t you a softie?” Jeff cheered, throwing his arm around his shoulders and ruffling his hair playfully.

“I’m just in love.” He winked at the camera and that was your cue to turn it off and take in the moment.

For three years, Love On Tour ruled the world and changed yours, giving you the opportunity to be by Harry’s side for every milestone and special moment.

The tour might had come to an end, but the memories created around it would last forever.

And you were glad you got them all on camera.

taglist: @lightsoutstyles @willowpains @straightontilmornin @sleutherclaw @gimsaysay @hazzassmirk @platinumbarbie143 @musicforcinemas @celesteblack08 @scntfrhs @eleanordaisy @lomlolivia @iceebabies @iloveshawn @be-with-me-so-happily @watermelonsugacry @rayisthehoe

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chaoticladyfire · 11 months

Text

Things I screamed about in ATSV (spoilers)

-Got to rewatch the film so I’m just going to add the colours changing to warmer tones when Gwen hugs her father. Not even ten minutes in and I was already crying.

-Realised that we missed the Gwen-Vulture fight BUT got to see Jessica Drew enter the scene like a bad ass in her bad ass bike and hearing the audience collectively say ‘me too’ when Gwen asked if Jessica could adopt her.

-Screaming OSCAR ISAAC when Miguel spoke

-Lyla. Just Lyla.

- ‘Do you say anything other than no?’ ‘No-YES!’ more of miguel and jessica pls

-The Spot’s introduction. I didn’t see any promotional stuff, teasers or even trailers before watching this film so I had no idea who or what the The Spot was which was great because he really went from villain of the week to villain of the movie. And they clearly had a great time choreographing the fight scenes with him

-Miles’ heating up the beef patty while the spot and the convenience store man argue

-Miles patting the spot’s with a ‘good cow’ text

-Gwen and Miles both having to deepen their voices to avoid being recognised by their respective cop dads

-Miles saying that he can get two cakes when the counsellor says you can’t have your cake and eat it too and then bringing two cakes for his father’s party and neither of them saying what he wanted to convey.

-Rio and Jeff scolding an annoyed miles but instantly smiling when a relative hugs them what an universal experience

-Gwen teasing Miles for drawing her in his notebook almost obsessively but also breaking the biggest rule to spend time with him knowing the consequences.

-As they went to talk, my friend leaned over and said ‘yeah I bet they will talk’ and when they only talked he groaned very loudly at which point I had to remind him Miles was only 15

-Watching Jeff talk to Spiderman about his son not knowing his son is spiderman

-The DJ increasing the volume when Miles’ parents started scolding him in the middle of the party (the real mvp of the movie actually)

-JK Simmons cameo that no one seems to be talking about??? Embarrassingly enough I had to literally scream into my friend’s ear for most of the people to realise it was indeed JK Simmons

-Just the entire Mumbattan scene. It was so exciting to see my city be represented like that, still a bit cliched in my opinion but not like Slumdog so obviously they have updated their views. Everything from the traffic gag to Pav’s rant about chai tea had the theatre howling. Also the detail of the thought boxes (?) and sounds being written in Hindi

-Screaming DANIEL KALUUYA

-My friend and I are huge fans of the UK punk scene (her for the ideologies and myself for the music and fashion) so Hobie was a dream come true. He was already super cool with his guitar and mohawk costume but when he revealed his face it was just so amazing

-Gayatri is every indian’s dream girl with her modern shirt-flannel and jeans combo mixed with bangles and piercings I really wish we get to see more of her in the next movie. Anyway there was a lot of wolf-whistling and hooting for her and Pav

-Also Pavitr literally means pure I don’t know if they did that on purpose or not but I love it

-His pet name being Pav cured my soul

-’This is the most emotional I have seen him’ and Captain Singh has no emotions at all

-I want to see how they came up with so many spider designs because each was so unique and immediately endearing. My friend who is also a big dinosaur fan screamed DINOSAUR

-Kind of obsessed with how detailed Ben Reilly’s arms are they did not need to go that hard with it

-Tom Holland’s Spider-Man being referred to as ‘the little nerd’ by Miguel

-When everyone was making puns about the Spot my friend leaned over and said ‘i wonder which hole the spot prefers’ it is a miracle we are still friends actually

-The Donald Grover cameo!!!

-Peter B Parker having a cute little baby with the love of his life is what he deserves

-Miguel O Hara is one step away from becoming a Batman-Spiderman

-Hobie’s admiration for Mayday being the avatar of chaos Spider-baby

-Screaming ANDY SAMBERG

-I think they saw the appreciation for the art style in the previous film and then trebled it for this film and I cannot thank them enough for it

-Peter complaining about how Miguel breaks the Spiderman tradition of being funny and witty and Miguel being the first anomaly

-Every scene with the Spot is very unnerving because as I said, you watch him transform from this joker to a literal void of vengeance and it is every bit of terrifying

-Miguel is a man suffering from the destruction of an entire universe because of his selfish actions and forcing that anomaly narrative on a fifteen year old boy who became a spiderman on accident and doesn’t want his father to die because of that. Unlike the Spot, who isn’t even human anymore, Miguel is drowning in grief and guilt and trying to ignore it by holding the weight of the spider-verse on his shoulder. I hated him so much for making a boy go through that but then I just couldn’t in the end.

-Andrew Garfield and Tobey Maguire cameo!!! Hopefully we’ll get a fun Tom Holland one too in the next movie.

-’Let me guess, he died?’ being a therapist for Spider Men must be a fairly boring job after a few patients.

-I just loved the absolute of wrongness of the scene where Miles returns ‘home’. The rain and darkness. I didn’t really think about Rio asking Miles what happened to his hair because I thought she was referring to the rain (although of course she wouldn’t ask him why his hair was wet when it was obviously raining outside) but realised something was wrong when he didn’t know about comic con but she did because in the first film there’s a joke about Peter B Parker explaining the concept to Miles.

- This movie is not good for my father related issues

-The glaring neon welcome sign when the gang end up in Earth 42

-How did Uncle Aaron get even scarier?

-Miles being the Prowler is honestly a great twist I saw it coming but still felt the shock of the reveal

-Prowler Miles having an accented voice meaning his father probably died when he was young and he only had his mom growing up

-Can’t wait for the original spider team to return for the third film seeing as they brought back Spider-Man Noir and Spider Ham and Peni Parker

-Screaming WHAT when the ‘to be continued’ appeared because that cliffhanger is absolutely destructive. All that adrenaline and excitement just popped. I’m still oscillating between being impressed and being disappointed.

I probably skipped over a lot of other scenes because these were the most memorable and I only watched the film once (unfortunate) but I can’t wait for the movie to hit streaming services and watch it again and again for all the other details I missed. Ill probably keep adding things as I remember

#across the spiderverse #atsv #miles morales #gwen stacy #hobie #pavitr #miguel o'hara #jessica drew #peter b parker #the ultimate spiderman #spiderman #spiderman noir #spider ham #rio morales #prowler

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alessiasfreckles · 3 months

Text

birthday present part 2 (alessia russo x reader)

alessia finally reveals her surprise to you.

warnings: SMUT 18+, fingering (r receiving), edging, praise kink, strap & vibrator use (r receiving), dom!alessia

a/n: part 1 here, hope you all enjoy!

----------

At first it felt like torture, wandering around in just your underwear and the jersey. The fabric of the shirt kept brushing against your nipples, which were still sensitive from before, and your underwear was damp from how wet you’d been. Alessia didn’t help, either. She was clearly enjoying teasing you, her hands and lips wandering, and whenever you’d start to whine or moan she’d pull away, leaving you pouting.

After a while, though, you settled back into your usual routine. You cooked dinner - Alessia’s favourite, of course - and the two of you cuddled up on the sofa to watch a movie that she’d been wanting to see. As you sat on the sofa, your mind kept wandering back to the way she’d been touching you earlier, sat in the same spot she was sat in now.

You tried to focus on the film, reminding yourself that she had wanted to watch it and it was her birthday. Still, you couldn’t help but wonder what the surprise she had mentioned was. You guessed it was a toy of some kind - come on, you weren’t stupid - and you started running through the possibilities in your head. The film fully forgotten, you felt yourself getting worked up, your clit throbbing. You squirmed in your seat, making Alessia glance over at you.

“You okay, baby?” she asked innocently. You were cuddled into her side, her arm around you and her hand resting on your hip, one finger under the strap of the underwear as she absentmindedly stroked your skin.

“Mhm,” you replied, reminding yourself once again that it was Alessia’s birthday and she had wanted to watch this and you didn’t want her to have to stop the film just because you were horny. “All good.”

She raised an eyebrow at you but didn’t say anything, and turned back to the tv.

Another half an hour went by. Her hand was now fully under the strap of the underwear, fingers stroking and drawing circles on the crease where your thigh met your pelvis. You started to wonder how much of the film was left when her hand slipped further, fingertips now touching your clit and rubbing so slowly and so gently that you could scream.

You gasped when she touched you, hand flying to her arm. When you looked up at her, she kept her eyes on the screen and smirked.

“Not fair,” you grumbled, and you could feel her body shake as she chuckled.

“Not much longer now,” she promised.

You sighed. You wanted to act up, have her hold you down, punish you for being bratty, but you really were trying to be good for her. Her fingers kept moving, still slowly rubbing your clit. You turned your head, nuzzling into her neck, and started kissing it softly, then nipping and biting at it. When you started sucking on the sensitive spot below her ear, wanting to leave a bruise, her other hand came up to your hair. She grabbed a fistful and tugged, pulling you away from her neck, and looked at you sternly.

“Behave,” she instructed, tugging again. The sensation sent a jolt to your core, and you nodded, pouting slightly. She kissed the pout away. “Good girl. It’s almost done.”

The film finished soon after - she had been right, there really wasn’t much left - and as the credits rolled, you turned to face her, excited to find out what she had planned.

“Right,” she said, fake-yawning. “Bedtime? I have training tomorrow.”

“Ha ha, very funny,” you rolled your eyes. “I mean, unless you really do want to go to bed, that’s okay, I know you’ve had a long day.”

“Nah,” the blonde grinned. “I still want to fuck you, remember? And I have that surprise. Go and wait on the bed for me? I’m just going to shower quickly and then I’ll be there.”

“Okay!” you nodded enthusiastically, jumping off the sofa.

“Oh, and baby? No touching yourself.”

-------

When Alessia came into the bedroom, she nearly dropped the towel she was drying her hair with. There were candles everywhere, and roses in different colours strewn around the room. You had tried to make it look purposeful and romantic, but you weren’t sure if it just looked messy. Either way, your girlfriend seemed to appreciate it. She spun in a slow circle, taking in the decorations, and when her eyes finally landed back on you, she was blushing.

“You did all this for me?” she asked, a wide smile on her face.

“Yeah,” you said shyly. “Do you like it?”

“I love it, thank you. It’s beautiful, just like you.”

She walked over to where you were sat on the bed, eyes trailing over your body. You had taken the jersey off, just in the lacy underwear. You’d left the bra off as well, and the cool air made your nipples hard. She smirked at the sight of the bruises she’d left on your neck and chest.

“I almost feel bad,” she said, looking around the room. “It’s so pretty. Feels almost too romantic for how hard I’m planning on fucking you.”

You blushed at the blunt statement, feeling want pooling in your core.

“I’m not seeing a surprise,” you noted, making your girlfriend roll her eyes.

“Little Miss Impatient, that’s what you are,” she said, kissing you affectionately. “Patience is a virtue, baby.”

“I’m not good at being patient,” you grumbled.

Alessia’s hands ghosted along your skin, fingertips kissing your chest, your waist, your hips, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. Her forehead came to rest against yours.

“Patience,” she repeated before kissing you deeply.

Her tongue danced along yours, tasting you. Her hand was tantalisingly slow as it caressed your breast, rolling the nipple between her fingers. She pushed you back on the bed so you were resting against the headboard and knelt above you, one leg between your thighs. Her knee pressed against your pussy, the lacy underwear providing at least some form of friction, and your hips bucked against her desperately.

She smiled into the kiss, and you could hear her earlier words in your head, reminding you to be patient. When she adjusted her legs, pressing her knee harder against you, you couldn’t help but moan. You couldn’t stop yourself from grinding against her leg, and the hand that wasn’t on your breast came to rest on your hip, squeezing it, pulling you closer.

Your kissing got more frantic, and you whined, desperate for more contact, more friction, more anything. She broke away, breathing heavily.

“Take these off?” she asked, hooking a finger around the thin strap of the underwear. She leant back to give you space and you quickly complied, tossing them off the bed, only glancing at where they landed briefly to check there wasn’t a candle there. Burning the house down would really put a dampener on things.

The space where Alessia’s knee had been was replaced by her hand, a finger dragging though your soaked folds and flicking your clit, making your breath hitch. Your hips jerked forward, and she easily slid two fingers inside you, meeting no resistance.

“Fuck, baby, Lessi, feels so good,” you babbled, brain overloaded by the feeling of her fingers buried in your pussy.

Alessia felt her own clit throb when you said her name, and the desire building low in her stomach made her want to take you apart, fuck you until you couldn’t say anything except her name. She started fucking you hard and fast with her fingers, loving the way you felt around her, the way your hips bucked up to meet her fingers, whining, gasping, desperate for more,

“That’s it, good girl,” she crooned, one hand on your hip, pushing you into the mattress, the other hand two fingers deep inside you. “Taking it so well for me.”

All you could do was nod and moan as she added a third finger. The stretch was perfect, her long fingers hitting the perfect spot inside you. She kept going, fingers pumping in and out of you, watching your body as your back arched and your legs trembled, hands grasping at the bedsheets.

She kissed you as she pulled her fingers out, leaving you on the edge once again.

“Wh-” you tried to protest but she cut you off with another kiss, and another, and another, all sweet and soft, especially in comparison to the way she’d just been fucking you. When she leant back, satisfied with the kisses, you pouted, folding your arms.

“I was so close!” you whined, and she grinned.

“I know, baby. And you were doing so well for me,” she told you, her voice soft, the praise making you blush and squirm. “But I think you’ll enjoy the surprise even more now.”

You brightened up at the mention of the surprise, and she laughed at the way your demeanour quickly changed.

“Do I get to know what it is now?” you asked eagerly.

She nodded, getting up off the bed. “I’m just going to get it. Close your eyes, I’ve been hiding it in my bedside drawer.”

You closed your eyes, putting your hands over them for good measure. You were tempted to peek, but figured that you could wait just those few more minutes whilst she got it ready. After a little bit of rustling and what you guessed was the sounds of Alessia’s clothes hitting the floor, she cleared her throat.

“Okay, you can open your eyes now.”

You opened them to find her standing at the foot of the bed, naked except for a strap between her legs. It was a new one, slightly wider than any of your other toys, and wasn’t actually on a harness like the others you had. The end of it disappeared between the blonde’s legs, and your mouth watered at the thought of it inside her.

“What do you think?” she asked, smirking at the way your mouth had dropped open slightly.

“Fuck, Lessi,” you breathed out, unable to think of anything else to say. She climbed onto the bed, and you couldn’t look away from the toy, how good it looked on her. “It’s big.” you said, biting your lip.

“You can take it for me, can’t you, baby?” she asked, one finger under your chin, making you look her in the eyes. “You’ve been such a good girl for me. I want you to keep being a good girl and take my cock, okay, darling?”

You nodded quickly, knowing that if at any point you were uncomfortable or wanted to stop, or just wanted her to switch to a smaller toy, you just had to say so and she would do it, no questions asked.

“Good girl,” she said, kissing you. “I’m going to fuck you like this, okay? I want to see you, see your face whilst I stretch you out and fuck you.”

Her words sent waves of arousal to your pussy, which was still aching, desperate to be touched. She guided the toy between your legs, the tip brushing against your entrance. As she slowly started to slide it inside you, she started talking again.

“You know, this one has a flat bit, right where my clit is, with bumps on it. So when I fuck you, I can feel it. I’ll be able to feel how hard I’m fucking you, feel you grinding down on my cock,” she explained.

The thought of her finally being able to feel something when fucking you with the strap made you moan and made you all the more eager to take the whole toy, despite its size. The way it was stretching you was incredible, and Alessia’s palm rested on your stomach in the hopes of feeling the toy fill you up. She kept going slowly, letting you adjust to its size, continuously going deeper inside you until it was buried to the hilt. You grinded your hips against hers, enjoying the feeling of her skin against yours, wrapping your legs around her waist in an attempt to pull her closer, wanting her to feel everything.

“Fuck, baby,” she groaned, looking flushed already. She stayed like that for a minute, letting both of you get used to the feeling.

“Lessi,” you whined, grinding your hips again when she didn’t move, and she rolled her eyes fondly.

“Are you ready?” she asked, and you frowned, confused.

“For what?” you asked.

She smirked and reached down to the underside of the strap. After a few seconds, it started vibrating, sending shockwaves through your body. She moaned, the feeling of it vibrating against her clit the first real contact she’d had all evening, after being so focused on fucking you. The sight of her, with her head thrown back and eyes closed, made your mouth water, and you bucked your hips, wanting her to feel more.

“Fuck,” she gasped, eyes flying open to look at you. You smiled cheekily and did it again, enjoying the way it felt inside you but enjoying the way it was clearly making her feel more. She grinned back, pulling your hips up so your ass was resting on her thighs, so that she could lean over you but still fuck you as hard and as deep as possible. She pulled out ever so slightly, then thrust forward, making you gasp at the sensation. She kept going, pulling out a little more every time, making sure your body could take it. When she was convinced you were ready, she paused again.

“Hey, y/n?” she said, making sure you were looking at her. “I love you.”

You opened your mouth to respond when she started fucking you hard and fast. Anything you’d been about to say was replaced by moans and pants, the air filled with the sound of skin against skin. You could feel the vibrations from the strap throughout your entire body, and all the earlier teasing meant you were already close to coming, your body having been on high alert all evening. Alessia’s hands held your hips tightly as she fucked you. She was already getting close, too.

The blonde flipped you so that she was lying on her back, you on top of her. Her hands stayed on your hips as you easily started riding her, and the added pressure from your weight on top of her made the strap press against her clit harder. She let go of you with one hand, reaching down to the strap and switched the vibrator to the highest setting.

“Fuck, fuck, Lessi, oh my god, fuck,” you keened, words falling from your mouth as she fucked you, the difference in vibrator settings very noticeable for your sensitive pussy. You could see that she was close, her cheeks flushed red, the veins on her forearms standing out as she gripped your hip with one hand. The other moved between your legs, rubbing your clit furiously, wanting to push you over the edge.

“Doing such a good fucking job for me baby, such a good girl, my good girl, aren’t you? So good for me, wanna make you come baby, want you to come on my cock,” she said, words coming fast as she focused on fucking you.

“‘M so close baby, so close, wanna come for you Lessi, wanna come together,” you babbled. She groaned at your words, keeping up her relentless pace, and you felt your orgasm washing over you, the still-going vibrations from the strap dragging out your climax, making your pussy clench around the toy. When Alessia saw your eyes shut, your head thrown back, your body trembling as you came, it pushed her over the edge, and she moaned as she came, still gently fucking you.

She quickly reached for the toy, turning the vibrator off, not wanting to overstimulate either of you. You leant down, sagging against her body, head nestled in the crook of her neck as both of you breathed heavily, recovering from your intense orgasms. She gently reached down and pulled the strap out, leaving you feeling empty.

“You okay?” she asked softly, stroking your hair.

“Yeah,” you sighed happily. “Don’t wanna move.”

She hummed in response, pressing a kiss to your forehead. The two of you laid there quietly for a few minutes.

“Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum,” you said, mirroring the sound of her heartbeat. You felt her chuckle underneath you.

“We should probably get cleaned up,” she murmured.

“Just a few more minutes?” you asked. “You’re so comfy.”

“Okay, baby. Just a few more minutes.”

#alessia russo #alessia russo x reader smut #alessia russo x reader #alessia russo fanfic #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso #woso imagine #alessia russo imagine #alessia russo smut #woso smut #woso x reader smut #hannah writes fics

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barzysunflower · 3 months

Note

So y/n goes to this game like always everyone knows she’s barzal wife or girlfriend when the fight happens something snaps and she’s like yelling acting like there gonna hear her saying “HEY THATS MY MAN DONT TOUCH HIM LIKE THAT” people are recording her or she lands on the jumbo screen and the guys saying there’s go barzal gf or wife love to see this. They both end up going viral on Twitter mat was over the fight but y/n still was mad and going on and on saying wtf I would of squashed him if I was right there because no one grabs my man like that 😤 mat finds it entertaining because he’s never seen her this worked up and he’s kinda turned on by it knowing she would fight for him LOL even tho he wouldn’t allow it but he ends up kissing her by how in love he is with her maybe gets alittle smutty

now that fight last night was quite something and god Mathew I want you to do it again! but not too often, I need you to keep looking pretty.

wc: 820

cw: alludes to sex, but not really smut (sorry I’m working on other smut rn haha and didn’t have much time to write today)

gif made by @pyotrkochetkov

You turned around from the conversation you were having with a friend to see Mat finally come out of the locker room area. When he was close enough, you could see there was a big red bruise coating his nose and part of his cheek from the fight he was in earlier. “Aw, baby, are you ok?”

“Perfectly fine.” His smile was sweet and crooked as he wrapped his arms around you. Your lips brushed gently against his bruised skin then finally landed on his lips.

Once you were sure he was fine, you pulled apart and playfully punched him in the chest. “What the hell were you thinking? Fighting? Maty! You know my rule, no teeth, no wedding.”

He laughed. “I know your absolutely ridiculously absurd rule. Don’t worry, I’ll have all of my teeth for the big day.” He kissed the top of your head, still getting excited at the mention of your wedding even after months of being engaged and it being pretty much all planned already. “And he attacked me. I wasn’t about the back down. I’m not scared of a little fight.”

A rush of heat flowed through you, seeing him get worked up again. And you had to admit, as much as you hated the fighting aspect of hockey, it was kind of hot seeing Mat defend himself and get into a little brawl.

“And it looks like you’re not as mad as you’re pretending to be.” He totally picked up on your vibes.

“Alright, so maybe it was a little hot to watch,” you admitted. “But don’t make it a regular thing.”

“Sure about that?” His eyebrows raised and a little mischievous grin appeared as he pulled you closer to him by your hips.

“At least not until after the wedding. I need you looking pretty for the pictures.”

“Alright, no more fights until the wedding.”

———

“Ok, so maybe I will keep up the fights if you’re going to be this turned on afterwards,” Mat mumbled out of breath when you rolled off him, back onto the mattress.

“You made a promise,” you responded, yelping when his lips were back on your skin in seconds. His teeth graded your neck, down your naked chest.

“It’s very hard to resist.” He came back up to kiss you passionately. You had lost count of the amount of times you had sex within the last few hours of coming home from the game, sleeping, and waking up to more sex.

“Alright, get off me I’m starving.” He fell back into the pillows with a laugh, but instead of getting up to go to the kitchen, you grabbed your phone for your daily morning phone time. Mat did the same.

To your surprise, there were a ton of notifications. Texts, instagram, twitter, etc. And also from people you didn’t even know. A quick investigation told you that you were in fact the reason for all the fuss.

“You seen this?” Mat had the same expression on his face, as he was looking through the exact same type of notifications. People sending a video of you from the game last night, yelling during Mat’s fight. The person who filmed it was too far away to pick up audio, but based on reading your lips, people could tell you were yelling something the lines of ‘HEY THATS MY MAN DONT TOUCH HIM LIKE THAT’.

You looked to Mat for his reaction, but he was just laying there, naked, watching the video over and over again, his jaw slowly dropping. You watched him nervously, internally cringing that a video of you like that was currently trending. Mat finally faced you.

“My girl.” He laughed and was back on top of you in seconds. “My feisty girl. And here I thought you were upset I was fighting, but you would have easily stepped in.”

“I was just trying to protect your pretty face.” He smiled wide and started attacking you with kisses, sucking and biting your skin.

“I had no idea you could get so worked up.”

“I’ve been hanging around you for too long.” He chuckled and kissed you deeply. You could never get enough of him.

“Protecting me. I’m supposed to be the one protecting you.”

“You clearly need it.” You loved teasing him, especially since his kisses got more intense the longer it went on.

“I’m pretty sure I won that fight last night, so I can protect myself.” He got on his knees and his lips wandered down your body. One of his hands grabbed your breast, massaging it, while his lips started assaulting the other. He licked around your nipple, sucking and biting it playfully. “But my job is to take care of you.”

He moved further down the mattress, getting ahold of your thighs and roughly pulling them apart. “Now be a good girl and let me do my job.”

#mat barzal #mathew barzal #mat barzal fic #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal blurb #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl blurb #hockey fics #hockey imagine #nhl smut #smut #hockey smut

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styleswithaseaview · 5 months

Text

movie night | p.p. x reader

requested: here pairing: tasm!peter parker x shy!reader summary: you want to watch a movie with peter on your first night in your new apartment. he has other plans. wc: 1k of pure fluff note: thanks for requesting!! i tried my best with shy!r but i am very not shy so if it's awkward apologies :)

“It’s a crime.” Your tone of voice is mock-serious, with the face to match, but Peter can tell that there’s a smile creeping on your lips.

“I’m sorry!!” he replies, putting his hands up.

“When Harry Met Sally is a classic, Peter. I watch it at least twice a year.”

“Really? Twice a year?” He’s not seriously questioning your movie-watching habits, but you read it wrong and try to backtrack.

“I mean… I don’t know, it’s a really good movie. I-I don’t know how you haven’t seen it,” you look down at your hands where the DVD sits. You had been unpacking boxes into your and Peter’s new apartment when you stumbled upon it, unable to resist pulling it out.

“I’m sure it is, bug. I trust your judgment. We can watch it tonight, if you wanna?” His reassurance is enough, and you let yourself grin at him unabashedly.

“Can we?” you’re brimming with excitement. It’s not just the film; it’s Peter, it’s the fact that you live together now. You think that you could watch a movie with him every night for the rest of your life and be perfectly content to do so.

A few hours later, the apartment is still not fully unpacked. But you have a couch, and a TV; you decide to have microwave popcorn for dinner and deal with the rest of it in the morning.

You put the movie in and join Peter on the sofa. His arms are open and you happily cuddle up into him, wrapping a blanket around you and munching on your popcorn. His arm is snug around you and you’re leaning into the crook of his neck. He presses soft kisses to the crown of your head when the movie starts. You ignore him, at first, used to his regular affections and thinking he’ll settle in a few minutes.

A few minutes pass and Peter’s hand has now crept into yours. You’re partially too focused on the movie to notice and partially love him too much to care. He starts to toy with your fingers, blatantly not paying attention to the movie anymore and looking at your face.

“Give me a kiss,” he says, under his breath. You oblige, of course, turning away from the movie to press your lips against his. His hand slips from yours and flattens against your waist, trying his best to pull you closer towards him. You pull away.

“Peter, you have to watch. We’re getting to the good part, promise,” you say, detaching his hand from your side and placing it on the back of the couch.

“They don’t even like each other yet… is this a slow burn or no burn, baby? Kinda silly to watch two people not be in love when the girl I’m madly in love with is sitting right here, in just dire need of my attention.” His voice is full of theatrical drama, typical Peter, and he punctures his words with little kisses to your forehead (for emphasis, of course).

“That’s what makes it so good, though! It’s…” You’re distracted by his kisses moving down to your neck and you soften a little in his arms. “They do love each other, they’re just in denial. That’s what makes it so great when they finally get together.”

“Ah. And when will that be?” He looks at you and you both can’t help but giggle.

“You have to be patient, Pete. Good things come with time.”

“I’ve never been a patient man,” he replies and actually uses his strength this time to pull you up and into his lap.

“Peter, you have to watch!” you say, no real urgency behind your voice, and he shakes his head vigorously, pressing a bunch of teeny little kisses all over your face and nuzzling his nose into your neck. You get overwhelmed with all the love, blushing profusely and tipping your head down to try to avoid his affection. It’s a futile attempt, really, and he just lifts your chin up in response, pressing a slow, sweet kiss to your lips.

“Don’t get all shy on me, now, bug,” Peter says when you pull apart.

“Want you to watch the movie.” Your voice is quiet, and you press the top of your head firmly against his chest to prevent any more kisses.

“Well I want to watch you,” he says, rubbing your back sweetly. You can hear the smile in his voice. You lift your head up only to glare daggers at him; you know if you try to say words to him all that will come out is happy, nervous noises (courtesy of his over-the-top and, in your opinion, unwarranted affection). “Okay, fine, fine, fine. I’ll watch. You need to sit on the other side of the couch or something, though, baby. Too distracting.” You smile and oblige, scooting over to sit with your feet facing him, sideways on the sofa.

You last about three minutes in that position before Peter makes a noise akin to a whine.

“Come back over here, I miss you too much. Changed my mind.” He makes grabby hands at you, and you once again comply. You really can never say no to him, especially when he pulls those big brown puppy dog eyes on you. You return to your original position, cuddled up into his side, and he’s grinning at you.

“You’re still not watching the movie, Pete,” you scold with no real malice.

“Okay, okay. Okay. I’ll watch. I do think this Harry guy should just… I dunno, grow a pair and confess, you know?”

“Peter… that wouldn’t make a very good movie, babe.”

“Well it worked out for me, didn’t it?” He grins, kissing your cheek, and you can’t help but preen at his constant affection. Harry and Sally, the movie couple, have nothing on you, you think.

#tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter parker x you #the amazing spider man #andrew garfield x reader #andrew garfield #tasm!peter parker fluff

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htchnr · 7 months

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★ thrill of the hunt ❥ A. HOTCHNER.

➻❥ masterlist. ➻❥ patreon. ➻❥ kinktober masterlist.

🎃 KINKTOBER PROMPT ➥ hunting kink + unsub!hotch.

CW ➥ outdoor sex ⋆ unprotected sex ⋆ piv sex ⋆ semi public sex ⋆ creampie ⋆ slight knifeplay ⋆ if i missed anything, lmk!

WC ➥ 1,8k. SONG ➥ tear you apart , she wants revenge.

SUMMARY ➥ he’s restless. he hasn’t been on a hunt in a while, in fact, since you’ve been together. you’ve never told him to stop, but you can sense he doesn’t want you to see that side of him, coming home late at night covered in blood that isn’t his. so you help him in your own way.

he’s restless. he hasn’t been on a hunt in a while, in fact, since you’ve been together. you’ve never told him to stop, but you can sense he doesn’t want you to see that side of him, coming home late at night covered in blood that isn’t his. the novelty of domestic life suits him, he likes cuddling with you, lazy mornings.

tonight though, you watch his side profile as he reads, watch his eyes flick over the same page several times, unseeing. he fidgets his knee up and down and slides his hand over his jaw, tapping a finger against his top lip. he’s so handsome, warm looking, alluring, and you realize with a rush that goes from your head to your cunt that you want him.

“hey.” you say, breaking the taut silence of the room, he looks up from his book, blue eyes focussed on yours. “i want us to play a game.” he stares at you while you explain your idea, smirking first with amused adoration, then slightly patronizing as he tilts his head.

“hide and seek? with me that wouldn’t be much of a game honey.”

“no.” shaking your head you stand and stretch your limbs, reveling in the way his dark eyes track your movements.

“i want you to hunt me.”

he pauses, thinking it through for a second. “since you interrupted my reading you better run extra fast.” he almost growls then, his usually sweet eyes gone impossibly dark.

“get to running sweetheart.” his voice low and threatening almost.

“fuck fuck fuck” you mutter out loud, almost forgetting that the whole point of the game is for him to find you. suddenly it feels very real. after all, he’s a killer, using both stealth and skill. one girl is nothing to him, a speck of dirt that is easily rubbed out.

reminding yourself that this man loves you and would never kill you doesn’t stop the pounding in your heart as you pause at a fallen tree, wondering if you can fit inside. you realize the game is exciting you just as much, even though you’ve done this for him, to help his boredom, you feel simultaneously afraid and aroused— it’s confusing as hell.

when people hide on tv or in films it’s never so messy. you cringe as dirt slides over your skin from the tree, matted leaves catch in your hair and your legs are awkwardly twisted. still, you’re inside the rotted trunk, and you’re hidden, at least to regular human eyes. you don’t have to lay still for long before you hear him coming. he’s not attempting to be quiet, but is humming under his breath, almost taunting you.

“i’m coming to get you sweetheart..” he sing-songs and you bite your lip not to whimper.

his footsteps pause, and you imagine him, scanning the trees for any sign of you. the urge to see him in his hunter pose is too much and you peek out through a crack in the tree trunk, you can’t resist a look, even if it costs you the game. he stood, the darkness of the night swallowing him along with the darkness of the forest.

his attitude has changed, and he looks nothing like the soft, charming man you’re used to seeing everyday. his shoulders are tight, his hands twitching by his sides— his left hand hovering above his knife that sits in it’s sheath. he’s grinning, his eyes are two black focused orbs, sweeping the scene.

it is amazing to see him like this, and as he moves towards you in one smooth, animalistic movement fear combines with desire, licking up the bottom of your spine. almost ripping the tree apart he unearths you, pulling you out from your hiding place, his hands under your armpits, lifting you as if you’re a child, or a rag doll— the ice cold blade of the knife pressed against your throat.

“i told you to run” he murmurs, the look in his eyes is dangerous, his chest is heaving with panting breaths, his voice is rough and low and betrays his arousal even if you couldn’t see the outline of his cock pressing hard against the fly of his jeans.

“i did” you whimper as he glares and bends his head to kiss you unrelentingly, nipping your bottom lip viciously.

“not far enough, not fast enough.”

“i tried Aaron, let me up…” you struggle intentionally weak against him and he holds you easily with a snide look in his eyes.

“i won the game.. i should get my prize.”

“your prize? oh… “ you words dissolve into a shameless moan as he simultaneously bites your neck and the cold knife tears through your shirt, his rough hands groping your breasts and pinching your nipples. You moan as you move your fingers to his zipper, yanking it down and pull his aching cock out, hot and throbbing against your palm as you stroke him. his mouth falls open as he lets out a strained breath, moving his larger hand on top of yours to force you to speed up your strokes. he seems to want it rough, and you feel exactly the same way.

his hands hold you easily, cupping your spine as he shoves you down on a patch of dry leaves. he crawls on top of you, his hips jerking a little as if of their own accord. “put your hands above your head.” he commands with a raspy voice and you nod, following the direction, twisting them together as if bound, and looking up at him imploringly.

pinning you with a glare he kisses you again moving his hand inside your underwear— swearing when he finds you soaking, pushing two fingers inside you desperate to feel your heat, before he regains control of himself and moves them teasingly in and out, never quite hard or deep enough. “i see.. you like this, you like the chase?” he asks. you moan pathetically, eyes rolling back.

“i like being caught.” you pant, trying to grind down against his hand hard enough to get yourself off.

“turn over.” he groans. “if you like being hunted like an animal i’m going to fuck you like one.”

thrilled, you scramble on all fours, glad to be off the hard ground— you wonder somewhere in the back of your mind if he’s doing this for your comfort. he hovers over you and you hear the clink of metal as he undoes his belt, the sound sending an unexpected bolt of arousal through you, he pulls back on your hips so your ass is cushioned against him and pushes inside you with one smooth stroke, not waiting to let you adjust before starting to move. you cry out as he sinks in and out over and over.

you clench your eyes shut as you shamelessly moan. he grins darkly, moving his fingers between your legs and rubbing your clit as he plows deeper inside you. you scramble for something to hold but he just holds you, fucking into you and you have no choice just to let him bounce you on his cock, let him touch you until you feel as if you were about to explode.

“Aaron! fuck.. please..” you plead, not even sure what you’re begging for as he slides one hand up your throat, pressing the cold blade flat against the hot skin of your throat. your thighs pressing together make you feel even tighter to him, and the sounds leaving his lips against your ear, the filth spilling from his usually smooth and composed self even during sex gives you a clue he’s just as lost as you are.

“scream all you want, no one can hear you out here.." he mutters in your ear. His lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he urges you towards your climax both with his filthy words and the never ending stroke of his fingers against your sensitive bundle of nerves. bucking back against him you let yourself go, clenching around him and riding out the pleasure as you cry out, tears trickling down your cheeks. he holds you as you fall apart, pausing just to revel in the sensations before he picks up his brutal pace again, the knife being thrown down into the dirt as his arm reaches around your throat, resting against your shoulders.

he thrusts a few more times, his balls slapping against your cunt so deliciously as he finally comes inside you with a loud guttural moan, his warm cum painting your walls as he fucks it into you.

He pulls out, his sticky cum pouring out of your abused hole— dropping onto the leaves with obscene splats. he hovers above you on the forest floor for a few moments before he comes back to himself, realizing you’re both outside at night on damp leaves amongst bugs and god knows what else. he let’s out a shuddered groan as pulls you up. your knees shake shamefully and you lean into his solid side with a grateful sigh.

he helps you back to the house, shoving you in front of the fireplace, not speaking while he fusses round you, washing the dirt off your face with a warm washcloth, picking the leaves out of your hair and frowning at the scratches on your arms as if they personally offended him.

“i’m okay..” you reassure him, your eyes heavy with post-sex bliss. you wonder how you can convince him that you enjoyed the game and that you are not so breakable as he thinks. he knows you well though, and as he lifts you up to bed and pulls you on top of him, your head resting on his hot chest. he nips at your ear, sending a wave of lust through your exhausted body.

“we are definitely doing that again..” squealing quietly with glee you hug him tighter to you and slowly fall asleep, happy knowing you have a man who is willing to take such good care of you, but also fuck you into the ground with a knife against your throat if you ask for it.

TAGLIST ➥ @toastbrot8410 @mrs-ssa-hotch @fictionallifestuff @weirdothatwritess @crystalflwr @stella95827 @taintedstranger @mija-novella @gffesegjoiegj @bubbly-parker @mediocremalachor15 @goldenangelwingsandcandy @0nex-is-dead0 @2hiigh2cry @the-1n0nly @hotchsdharma @tgskitten @crystlroses @notforeverlong @emmeilyy @whatisthereality

#⋆୨🩷©2023 htchnr #⋆୨⭐️aaron hotchner #⋆୨🎃2023 kinktober #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotch hotchner x reader #hotch smut #hotch imagine #hotch x reader

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taexual · 2 months

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sleepwalking ● 20 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers

warnings: explicit language, suggestive themes, mentions of drugs, fluff, some angst, SLOW BURN

words: 17.9k

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

chapter 20 ► so if your wings won't find you heaven, i will bring it down like an ancient bygone

The next morning arrived very quickly and not even five hours after your nightly rendezvous in the garden, you saw Jungkook again in the corridor of the hotel.

“Your room is right next to mine,” you observed with a certain surprised amusement. “Yet you thought it would be wiser to go out, find some rocks, and toss those at my window?”

Jungkook glanced at the door of his room as if he hadn’t noticed it before.

“Much more private that way,” he said with a shrug—but a mischievous grin betrayed his attempt at nonchalance. “No one suspected a thing.”

“If someone had seen you doing that, they would have probably suspected a lot more,” you said. “Compared to you just knocking on my door like a normal person.”

“I’m a romantic,” he declared, clutching his chest to emphasise his dedication to his actions, which he preferred to regard as whimsical and sweet, rather than unusual and unnecessary. “I prefer my way.”

You looked away and he wondered if he’d taken it too far. But he relaxed when he saw the corners of your lips curve into an already familiar smile as your gaze wandered from the carpeted floors to the fraying edges of the wallpaper near the entrance to the staircase.

His predilection for extravagant gestures and dramatic moves rather than simple, everyday things had been a consistent part of his personality for as long as you’ve known him. And however much you teased him about it, you still found it endearing.

Although to be fair, you found the wildflowers that he’d brought you endearing, too. Pictures that he sent you, captioned ‘us.’ The look in his eyes when he teased you about something. The way he held your hand so absentmindedly sometimes, almost forgetting about it as though your hand was a part of him.

“Should we go, then?” you asked, a little breathless. The old hotel didn’t have an elevator, and you gestured at the staircase. “Unless, of course, you’d prefer to climb into the restaurant through the window.”

Jungkook took the teasing in stride, maintaining a dignified grin. “Stairs will work, I’m sure.”

“Well, if you’re sure.”

He followed you, beaming as if he were a ten-year-old who had just held hands with a pretty girl for the first time during fifth-grade recess. He didn’t know how to contain everything he was feeling. He might have actually stopped, dropped, and rolled down the stairs like an exhilarated sack of potatoes if he’d known you were feeling the same.

“So,” you said, keeping your eyes on your feet as the two of you climbed down the narrow, creaking staircase. There were small, foggy windows scattered here and there, filtering beams of tired sunlight. “Escape from New York.”

It took Jungkook a few seconds to recognise that this was the film you’d talked about last night. His mind seemed to consider this information secondary—overshadowed, understandably, by his grandmother’s voice after she called him and the lingering memory of the scent of your hair.

“Yeah,” he said, stopping in front of the arch that led from the stairwell into the lobby. “I’m thinking the odds of catching it in cinemas are very slim, right?”

“They are,” you confirmed, stopping, too. “But it’s on Amazon like I suspected. We could watch it tomorrow if you’d like?”

A childlike excitement ignited in his eyes, but a sudden memory dimmed them.

He recalled you telling him that you had plans with Luna and Maggie tonight, and before that—his hands trembled a little at this particular memory—he recalled you saying that you had set an alarm to call your mum.

He was anxious, he realised, on your behalf.

“Tomorrow, uh—” he stammered, lost in the shadows on the staircase behind you as the two of you lingered by the archway. “T-that sounds good.”

You smiled and nodded—that was essentially all you did, but he felt the change. He felt how close you were, he felt your relaxed posture, your easy smile, your calm, confident eyes.

His gaze met yours for no more than a fleeting moment, but he felt the uncertainty in his chest lift, almost inexplicably so. Likely because, despite everything, you were here and nothing else really mattered. You’d be okay.

“You’re going out tonight, right?” he asked and you nodded. He tsk tsk-ed in response, feigning disapproval. “It's a school night. How very irresponsible.”

Your smile grew wider; he noticed it out of the corner of his eye. Something creaked with excitement on the stairs and inside his chest.

“You guys have a day off tomorrow, so I don’t have to babysit,” you bit. “The girls and I had actually been planning this since before we even arrived in Europe.”

“Okay, fair enough,” he said. “How’d you find a bar that’s open long enough on a Wednesday, though?”

“Maggie said she found a cool spot that’s not really a nightclub and not really a bar,” you explained, shrugging. “I’m not sure. We’ll give it a try.”

“Alright. That sounds cool. Let’s do our thing tomorrow,” he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Is it, uh, a girls’ night, then?”

You began to walk, crossing the threshold but slowing down so he could catch up.

“Well, yeah,” you said. “Because if I invite you, then Taehyung will insist on joining, and Luna will inevitably invite him. And then you and I will end up third-wheeling those two all night, while also comforting Maggie. She’ll have one tequila shot and spend the whole night near tears because she misses Rue.”

Jungkook decided not to admit how pleased he was that in a hypothetical scenario where Luna would bring her boyfriend and Maggie would cry about her girlfriend, he was your equivalent partner. Of course, he would have made sure to keep you company so that you wouldn’t feel like anyone’s third-wheel or shoulder to cry on, but he understood the essence of your point.

“That’s alright. I’ll keep myself busy,” he said, a bit concerned about the colour of his face. He reached up, feeling his cheeks with the back of his hand. “I, uh—I hope you guys have fun. Call me if you get into trouble.”

You raised your eyebrows, recognising his way of turning your words against you.

“As if,” you retorted. “I know how to drink responsibly.”

He could remember times when the two of you were so drunk that the sense of responsibility resembled a dystopian concept rather than something people realistically possessed, but he enjoyed the smile on your face too much to bring it up. Even more than that, however, he enjoyed the fact that your smile did not falter, and you did not pull away to a more respectable distance when you entered the restaurant and reached the buffet table with dozens of other people around.

Things were good. They felt good.

You stayed at the buffet table to talk to Namjoon, and Jungkook went to find an empty table at the restaurant. But even as he walked away from you, he still couldn’t do anything about the tint on his cheeks.

He knew he was grinning like a proper maniac as he poured milk into his cereal. But then he met your eyes, and you were smiling at him from across the room, and your face looked radiant and glowing, and he was so in love with you that he didn’t care about his excitement coming off as threatening.

Just then, Minjun approached him with a concerned expression.

“Hey,” he said, sitting across from him at the empty table. “You look stupid. Did you put too much sugar in your cereal again?”

Jungkook snorted and let the spoon clatter into the bowl. “No. Just feeling good, I guess.”

“Huh.” Minjun looked over his shoulder and caught your gaze. He turned back to his friend with a knowing grin. “And, uh… your constant glances in your manager’s direction have something to do with that, I assume?”

“We’re going to watch a film tomorrow. It’s something my grandma suggested,” Jungkook announced with a grandeur that rivalled a lottery winner flaunting their newfound wealth.

It took Minjun a moment to process the whirlwind of changes in Jungkook’s life overnight. The last time he had seen him in Glasgow, Jungkook was, to put it kindly, a wreck. Now, his grandmother was calling him, and he was making plans to watch films with you.

“I’m—” Minjun stopped. He wanted to ask questions, but he did not know what to do with the expression on his face. “I feel like I’ve missed a few episodes of this TV show, but I’m very excited for you.”

Jungkook nodded eagerly—and then hesitated, his smile fading momentarily.

“It’s good, right?” he asked. “That we’re spending time together again.”

Minjun didn’t consider himself an expert in the field of relationships, even though he had some experience. However, when it came to this particular relationship, he didn’t even consider himself an amateur. You and Jungkook operated so utterly enigmatically that he wouldn’t even know where to begin guessing what the correct answer here was.

“Of course,” he affirmed nonetheless. “So, you’re… what? Friends, then?”

“Mhmm,” Jungkook replied with a mouthful of cereal.

“And, uh,” Minjun tapped his index finger on the dent in the lacquered table, “why is that?”

Jungkook swallowed first. “What do you mean wh—”

He noticed Minjun’s deadpan expression. Friendship was not the destination that his friend had imagined for the two of you.

“Fine,” he said, wiping his palms on his pants. “Well, first of all, it’s better than nothing. And—”

“Wait,” Minjun interrupted. “Why is ‘nothing’ the alternative to friendship?”

Jungkook clicked his tongue. “Because we’re complicated people with complicated problems.”

He almost expected Minjun to laugh at the oversimplified response, but his friend remained serious—he may not have known a lot, but he knew that there was a long story hidden behind these short words.

“Okay,” he said.

“Yeah. And second of all,” Jungkook continued, and Minjun wondered if he realised how much he resembled you in the way he spoke sometimes, “if we’re friends, then we can still work together, even if we don’t actually get back together. It’s just safe for us.”

“Ah.” Minjun nodded, recognising the subtle ways in which Jungkook was making this comfortable for you. “That’s the main thing, isn’t it?”

“It’s—well, I don’t know if that’s the main thing,” Jungkook said. For him, the main thing was you staying with Rated Riot. Everything else was an additional thing. “But it’s a—it’s a thing.”

“Hmm. The two of you are a far cry from friends, though,” Minjun remarked. Naturally, Jungkook was about to object, but his friend raised a hand, stopping him. “But I’m glad you two kids are working it out. That’s all I wanted to say.”

Jungkook released his breath and nodded instead of speaking.

He decided this was enough. He didn’t need anything else—neither a pat on the back nor an empty reassurance—to confirm that things were going well.

You had practically built a castle over the ruins in his chest overnight—things were going well.

After breakfast, Namjoon needed your help with the scheduling of recording rooms for the upcoming tour dates. The boys usually used the equipment they’d brought with them, but Yoongi had barricaded himself in his room—Jimin knocked on his door for fifteen minutes to drop off a croissant—so Namjoon, Hoseok, and you decided to book a studio to lure him out.

The scheduling took a while, because London and Paris, for no reason whatsoever, emerged as the two centres of musical innovation this month. Every studio in the vicinity of your accommodation had already been booked, so you were locked in your hotel room until late afternoon.

When you finally found several available spots, Luna and Maggie had already banished Taehyung from his and Luna’s suite—they had the largest one here—and you joined the girls in the bathroom to get ready for the night.

However, even though you joked and chatted with them, you couldn’t stop yourself from mentally counting down the minutes until your phone alarm rang. You’d set it for eight, hoping this would be a convenient time for your mum. You knew she wasn’t working today.

And, shortly after the three of you got ready—six minutes to eight—you left the girls to pre-game in Luna’s bathroom, and went back to your own dark room.

You felt very silly just sitting and staring at your screen, waiting. You could have called your mum early; you were ready for it anyway. But your hands were shaking, and you decided to wait.

You had already dressed and prepared for the rest of the night, but now, as you stared at your phone—two more minutes—you wondered if that had been a mistake. What if you cried? What if you didn’t even want to go anywhere anymore?

Two minutes, as it turned out, had a habit of passing slowly when you wanted them to pass, and passing very quickly when you wanted to prolong them. You pressed the line labelled ‘MUM’ on your phone and held your breath.

You were sitting on the floor—not because you wanted to fully embrace the dramatics of the situation or because the bed wasn’t good enough, but because your phone was charging next to the door, and you couldn’t reach the charger from the bed.

You had kept the light off, so the room was completely dark—now that was because you wanted to embrace the dramatics of the situation—and you hugged your knees to your chest, seemingly sinking deeper into the shadows.

Your mum picked up after the third ring. “Hello?”

“Hi, mum,” you said, and your voice shook despite your best attempts to control it.

“Hi, sweetheart,” she said. She sounded a little disoriented and confused. “Did something happen? Is everything okay?”

You moved your phone away from your head and wiped your cheek on the sleeve of your dark denim jacket. You felt nervous and fidgety.

“It’s—no, everything’s fine,” you replied. “Are you busy? H-how’s Kai?”

“I was just reading. And he’s playing with his friends, love,” your mum said softly—she always spoke as if she was in a crowded room, mindful of disturbing others. “Did you want to talk to him?”

“Oh. No—no, it’s okay,” you said, nibbling on your lower lip. “You, uh, changed your mind about grounding him?”

“Well, he’s awfully lonely,” she said almost apologetically. You figured she wouldn’t stay angry with him for long, especially if he complained about his broken leg—which you suspected he did. “He can’t walk much and he’s miserable.”

“Mhmm. Right.” You scratched under your chin. “I’ll, uh—I’ll check on him later.”

“Okay,” she said, hesitating for a moment. “How—well, how are you? Did something happen?”

The repeated question in place of small talk stung a little, but you knew you’d brought it on yourself. It was natural for her to assume something had happened when you called. For a while now, you’d both had a tacit understanding: she’d text you if she wanted to know how you were, and only call if there was an emergency—such as your brother breaking his leg. But if you really needed her, you would be the one to call.

“No. No, I just—I wanted to talk to you,” you said. “I don’t, um—I don’t really know what to do, so I wanted to… talk to you and maybe that will be helpful. I don’t know, I’m—”

“Sweetheart, what’s going on?” Concern deepened her gentle voice. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m—no, I’m not hurt,” you said. You thought you knew what you had to talk about. But apparently, you hadn’t realised you’d have to articulate your thoughts to have this conversation. “It’s just… I wanted to ask about you and Dad.”

Your heartbeat echoed in your ears while your mum stayed silent on the other end.

“Oh,” she said after a minute. You heard shuffling in the background. You pictured her sitting up, putting her book on the coffee table in her living room, and pulling off the duvet. You pictured her reaching for the floor lamp next to the armchair and switching it on, wondering, all the while, what had happened. “What brought this on?”

You heard a cheerful cry from outside your room and glanced at the window. The stars behind it were obscured by dark clouds. You wondered how long it would take to recap the entirety of this past month for your mum.

“Jungkook and I were talking,” you started. You heard her hold her breath as you went on. “And I just—h-he made me realise that you and I have never really talked about this much.”

Her voice sounded distant. “Well, what is there to talk about?”

Your exhale turned into a half-choked scoff.

“A lot of things, mum,” you said.

She breathed out, then in, then out again in an uncomfortable attempt to keep her composure.

“Wh-what do you want me to say?” she asked.

“Well…” You tugged at the fabric of your black tights. “What was going through your mind when you decided to get back together with Dad?” You paused, sensing the implication in your question. “I’m—I don’t mean to insult you. I’m just—I want to understand your thought process. There seemed to be, um—so much at stake.”

“There was,” she replied with the precision of a teacher confirming that two times two was indeed four. “I had you and your brother. And I still went for it.”

An oppressive silence engulfed your dark room as your mother’s uncertainty made yours grow.

Often, when a marriage started to fall apart, the advice from well-meaning relatives—who, of course, knew more about the relationship than the people in it—revolved around the children. To you, the notion of “staying together for the kids” felt about as profound as a bumblebee repeatedly hitting the glass of a window. And the relationship that your parents had was so bad, so beyond any fixing, that no one even suggested they stayed together in the first place, not even for the children—actually, especially not for the children.

But because your mother had never received this advice—this cursed “do it for the kids”—she did not know how to explain herself to you right now.

“W-were you scared?” you forced yourself to ask.

“Every time,” your mum admitted. You felt a new, powerful surge of despair for this every time and all the years of repeated mistakes that it signified. “But I was still hopeful.”

“But you knew he didn’t change,” you said. “You knew he wouldn’t be a father, wouldn’t be your husband.”

“No,” she said. “I don’t think that’s something you know in the moment.”

You couldn’t tell whether she had convinced herself of this later—as a defence against all the relatives who shook their heads at her—or if this was something she believed from the very beginning.

“Mum, that’s—I don’t think I can ever understand that,” you said, your words pouring out in an uncontrollable torrent of agitation. “Not after what I saw you go through. It—I admire the love that you have. But I just—I can’t help but think it had always been obvious that you and Dad would never work.”

She was silent for another minute, and you were worried that you had really upset her. Then, finally, she spoke again—her voice gentle, warm. “You told me that much.”

“I’m—I did?”

“You were very smart, growing up,” she said. “Well, you still are.”

You felt an unwelcome lump in your throat and a tightness behind your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I probably hurt you.”

“You didn’t, sweetheart,” she said, because she always did. “I know it seems—well, difficult to understand. But I really wanted this to work. I wanted to give it a chance. But at a certain point, you finally realise that this is it. It’s enough. That’s when trying becomes pointless—when you can see that it won’t work. But you can’t reach that point if you don’t even try.”

But how many times, you wanted to ask, to yell, how many times did you have to try to reach that point?

“To be honest with you, my thought process was very… well, foolish, perhaps,” she continued. “Looking back, I realise that my judgement was clouded by many of the good moments we shared—because, believe it or not, it wasn’t always bad for us. We were together for… well, for many years. We had some good times.”

Once again, you felt a little disheartened that she avoided mentioning a specific date. You wondered what number of years she would have given—you knew your parents had already been on and off even before they got married.

“So, he wasn’t always like this?” you questioned. “Cold, detached, dismissive? Not worthy of you?”

Your mum seemed a little taken aback by the exhibition of adjectives—none of which came close to the words you wanted to use to describe the man who was theoretically supposed to be your father, and the words your mother had actually used to describe him herself—but she only allowed herself half of a surprised gasp before she pulled herself together.

“He was a lot more than that,” she said. “Both, in a good way and a bad way. And I wanted to try. Our circumstances had changed, we were in different stages of our lives. We’ve both grown. Clouded judgment or not, I thought that, even if he couldn’t be the person I fell in love with, maybe he could still be the person I could love right now.”

“You thought he’d changed,” you concluded. “Grown for you.”

“I did think that,” she agreed. “I believe that people can change—and they do, really. People can absolutely transform. But your father, he—well, he hadn’t. But I wouldn’t have known that for sure if I hadn’t tried.”

You shook your head. “But had he ever—you—never mind. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable with my—”

“No, you’re—you have every right to ask me these things,” she cut in. “I understand your—frustration. But I really wanted this, and I-I felt like I owed it to myself to try everything. Just so I would know that I’ve tried everything. And even though it didn’t work out, I learned more—so much more—about love, about people, and about myself. So, I don’t regret trying.”

You needed a minute to grasp that she really did not sound regretful. But you could not understand that.

You and your brother ended up in the crossfire of it all, and she was the one who put you there, repeatedly. And then she waited for over a decade for you to find the courage to ask her about this because she never volunteered this information herself.

Was there really nothing to regret about this?

“I’m... I’m still learning,” your mum continued after a while. “Because there are some things that we can learn only by experiencing them, and I—well, I want those experiences. I don’t want to look back on my life and wonder what it would have been like if I had tried something that I really wanted, but it really scared me. ‘What if I didn’t run from it, even though running away was safer?’ That was what I thought.”

She had to be brave, you thought, to try and to stop trying. And you knew that she really was. But more than that, she had to stay true to herself as an individual. She had to follow her dreams, her hopes, her wishes. And she did.

Yet, for some reason, you couldn’t find your words.

“I think that,” she said after not hearing your response, “aside from all the other things we do for love, we sometimes need to go through these unsuccessful experiences to truly understand our boundaries and get to know ourselves. And to find peace, really, knowing that we’ve done all that our hearts wanted. At least, that’s how it worked for me. Your dad might have had other motives. I don’t think I will ever truly understand them, but his motives are his own. These are mine. So—well, that was my thought process. I think that’s all I can say.”

“Hmm,” you finally said—just to signal that you've heard her, and now you needed a minute.

She’d told you everything, then.

She was listening to her heart when she got back together with your dad. And listening to one’s heart was not an easy thing to do, you’ve come to know that very well.

But now you wondered if you were okay with her explanation. If you were okay knowing that she did that because she wanted to. If you were okay with her erasing everyone else from the equation and just focusing on herself.

Lately, you’ve come to believe that people were made up of various roles, some of which were put on their gravestones after their death: daughter, sister, wife, mother. They could be more than that, so much more. But they couldn’t suddenly be less.

You thought your mother might have actually been trying to be less.

She was trying, it seemed, to be on her own, void of any roles that framed her into a certain behavioural pattern—the sister, the friend, the wife, the mother—because this way, she could get back together with your dad because she owed it to herself. Because she wanted to try.

It was important to listen to yourself, of course. But her relationship with your dad affected her in every role she had, every role she tried to escape from. It hurt her. And because it hurt her, it hurt those around her, too: her children, her brother, her friends.

And still, she did it again. And again. And again.

No, you didn’t think it was possible to escape all of your roles like that. You didn’t think a person could wake up and, without any repercussions whatsoever, suddenly decide to be an individual, but not a parent. A partner, but not a sibling.

A manager, but not an ex-girlfriend.

A shuddered breath passed your lips, and you closed your eyes. You heard your mum’s even breaths on the other end.

If you weren’t so overwhelmed, you might have admitted to your mum that you understood certain parts of her explanation, but not others.

You understood why she did all the things you’d criticised for years. She did them because she knew that was what she wanted. That was what she believed and hoped for. And precisely because she did what she wanted, she did not regret trying again even though it didn’t work out. She’d listened to her heart, and her heart was now at peace.

And, yet—you were there. Despite her pride about having followed her heart, you were there.

You were the one helping her pick up the pieces for years after your dad left. You were there when she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t get up from the floor, couldn’t stop herself from crying.

You were happy that she was at peace now, happy that she did not regret it. But you did. You regretted it for her. You didn’t think you’d ever feel her peace.

That was what you didn’t understand: how she’d erased those nights, those years when you thought you went through everything she went through right with her. You didn’t understand how she didn’t regret any of it.

You could have asked her about it, but she would have probably repeated all that she’d already said. And maybe you’d never understand her because you weren’t her—you were her daughter, and you could never escape this role. You loved her and you could not feel peace for the suffering she had to endure. The suffering you tried to take away, but couldn’t.

Perhaps you were being unfair to her. But you could only judge her experiences through the lens of your own.

She made a mistake—the same one, several times. She tried to explain it to you, even tried to justify it, but ultimately, that was the way you understood it, and you could not make yourself understand it differently.

However—and it took you great effort to admit this to yourself—just because trying again was a mistake in your mother’s case, that did not necessarily mean it would be a mistake in yours, too. There was a bright side to your lack of understanding.

It certainly seemed that your mum would continue to believe her truth, and you would continue to believe yours, but now you identified a core difference between yourself and her: you could never listen to just your own heart; you had to take another heart into account.

Your heart was frightened. It did not know what to do. But you weren’t just his manager. You loved him. And you knew he loved you. You could not let your fear win.

You weren’t your mum, and you weren’t your dad. And Jungkook wasn’t one or the other, either.

You wondered if this precise moment—this clear distinction—would finally allow you to separate your experiences from your parents’.

“Sweetheart,” your mum said quietly. Your phone felt hot due to the duration of your conversation. “Did something happen that made you want to talk to me about this now? Did you and Jungkook fight?”

You were biting into the inside of your lip with so much force that you could almost taste blood.

“We did. At first,” you said. It was futile to evade her questions now, but your throat still felt scratchy. “But it’s different this time. We’re—I don’t know what we are. We’re trying. Well, he’s trying. And I—I’m scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“Well, scared that someone will get hurt if we get back together.” You tightened your arm around your calves and rested your chin on your knees. Your room had darkened even more; it was very late. “Scared that I won’t be able to keep going if we don’t. I-I don’t know how to explain it. I’m just scared of what will happen.”

“Darling, sometimes, taking the risk is the only way to know what will happen,” she said. “You have to be brave. There are always two kinds of ‘what ifs.’ One good, one bad.”

You ran your fingers through the braids in your ponytail, nearly ruining Maggie’s work.

“You always hoped for the good one,” you said.

“I did.”

“Hmm.”

“I hope for that even now,” she replied. You closed your eyes and exhaled. “I know for certain that your dad and I cannot be together, but I know that precisely because I tried. It’s terrifying, though. I know it is. But I think that a lot of times, fear is an inherent part of love. You’re afraid of losing this person, afraid of hurting them. But you choose them anyway.”

Your hands were so cold that you could feel them over your tights when you ran your nervous fingers across your calves. You watched the hotel floorboards, attempting to make sense of your thoughts.

“Well, it—that doesn’t always make sense,” you said carefully. “Choosing to be together isn’t always, uh, the right decision.”

“Sweetheart,” she said, and you could tell from her tone that she did not understand your allusion to her own relationship. “How can it be the wrong decision for you? I know you’re really calling me because you’re scared you’re hurting him.” You inhaled so sharply here that she had to pause for a moment and continue in a gentler tone. “But you won’t hurt him by being with him. You would hurt him if you pushed him away.”

Your eyes blurred with a sudden moisture that you tried to blink away. You were determined not to succumb to your emotions—not for your parents’ failed relationship, not for the relentless gap between you and your mother that one conversation could not fix, and not for the haunting what-ifs that loomed in the back of your mind.

“I don’t know what exactly happened between you two,” your mum continued. “But I do know this: Jungkook thought you didn’t love him anymore when you broke up. He was, well—broken. But he wants to try again. That was—well, it was not the case for your dad and me. So, I think your odds are very good.”

You straightened, pressing your shoulder blades against the wall.

It was only in Amsterdam that Jungkook told you he had thought you broke up with him because you didn’t love him anymore. Before that, you’d assumed he was the one who no longer cared.

Was this what he talked to your mum about? Or was she just guessing?

“Where—how do you—h-how do you know what he thought after we broke up?” you stammered.

Another silence enveloped the conversation, and you wondered what your mum needed it for.

“That’s…” she started slowly, “another thing that sets you two apart from us.”

A secret. That’s why your mum needed the silence—to figure out how to talk to you about this.

“What is it?” you asked.

It took her another moment—six and a half heartbeats to be precise—to start speaking again.

“Your dad never wrote me anything,” she said. “Not a letter, let alone a poem. Honestly, he could barely write my name on a birthday card.”

You didn’t immediately understand what she was insinuating because you were too busy screaming inside about the irony of your mum being the one who pointed out all the times when your dad did not care about her. And yet she chose him again, and again, and—

You gripped your legs tighter to focus. “How do you know that Jungkook—”

“He sent them to me.”

“What?” You let go of your legs. “What do you—what did he send you?”

“The songs,” she explained patiently. You were too overwhelmed to notice the caution in her words; she could sense your hyperventilation over the phone. “Well, the verses of the songs that he wrote about you.”

You were quiet for a minute. Then another minute. Your mum had to gently coax, “love?” to remind you that you were on a call.

Jungkook said he had talked to your mum because he needed her help. You simply could not fathom the possibility that she was helping him with his song lyrics.

“Why…” You swallowed, trying to come up with a question that wouldn’t make your stomach clench harder. “Why did he send you that?”

“Because I told him he could if he wanted to,” she said. You appreciated her even tone. It helped to slow down the rapid beating of your heart.

“But,” you said, “we were broken up.”

“That’s one side of the story,” she replied. “The other side is that you were still in love. So, while you locked yourself in your room and forbid his name from being spoken around you, he was coping in a different way.”

The air in the room felt dense. You couldn’t tell if you were getting too much oxygen or not enough. Your head was spinning, attacked by the voices in your head, all of them shouting at you in languages you did not understand.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked—the question was heavy, and your voice lowered significantly.

“I asked him if I should tell you,” she explained. “He said only if you asked about him.”

Your heart was in your throat. Your arms were numb. You felt like you were running late for something very important, and you were not going to make it in time.

“I never did,” you whispered.

“No,” she said softly. “You never did. And I didn’t think it was my place to tell.”

“Well, how—what did he say?” you pressed. “Why did he send you th-the songs?”

“He texted me, asking for permission at first,” she recounted. “He wanted to know if—if the lyrics were okay, if they weren’t too obvious, if I would mind and if I thought you would mind.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him you might drop everything and move to the Arctic if you found out the songs were about you,” she said. You could hear the smile in her voice. “He said that’s why he asked me instead.”

“Hmm. But that only happened once o-or... you know, twice?” you asked. “Haunting” and “Cursed”—those were the two songs he’d told you he wrote with you in mind. “Right?”

You were almost desperate for her to agree with you. To say that this was it, just these two songs. It was a lot, but you already knew about them. You’d manage to carry on.

Your mum sensed the hope in your voice. Almost unwillingly, she admitted, “at first.”

You were glad, suddenly, that you were sitting on the floor as the hotel room seemed to tremble around you. The realisation that Jungkook had been in touch with your mum, that he was writing about you this whole time—that your mum knew he was writing about you—was a little too strong.

Yoongi wasn’t far off, as it turned out. He thought it was you who looked through Jungkook’s lyrics for him. Apparently, it was your mum.

“The first time he reached out was right when Rated Riot first started making music,” your mum resumed, her words sharp against the lingering silence. “He apologised, and I didn’t think he would contact me again.”

“But he did,” you concluded, almost voiceless as your words stuck in the dryness of your throat.

“He did,” she confirmed. “I think, a lot of times, he was doing it to find out if you were seeing anyone else.”

The voices in your head were quick to latch onto this phrase – a lot of times! a lot of times! a lot of times! – and they yelled it at you from every crevice of your mind.

“Every time he wrote something new about you—a song, or a verse, or even a line that he ended up never including in any of their songs—he’d contact me and ask if it was okay,” your mum said. “But I don’t think he was only asking about the lyrics. He was also asking if I was okay with him still being in love with you. He was, it felt like, trying to see if I’d tell him to stop. To meet someone new.”

You had a pained frown on your face as you brought a hand over your forehead, wondering if what you were feeling was nausea or vertigo.

“Why didn’t you say that to him?” you asked. “To stop? It’s been four years.”

“For the same reason I didn’t say it to you.”

Your lips parted, but you could not find your voice. “W-wh—what—”

“Four years is just a raw number,” your mum said. “It does not account for the days you spent intentionally avoiding each other, remembering everything, and eventually working together. It is neither big nor small, and it is completely irrelevant compared to what you feel inside.”

It seemed to you, for an unthinkable second, that your mum had been waiting for your call about Jungkook—like she knew it would come. Jungkook had called her, and you would, too. It was inevitable.

But how much time has passed between his first call to your mum, and yours, right now? You wanted to claw at your chest until you ripped out every painful needle in your heart for all the years he waited for you, and for all the years you waited for yourself, too.

“And I’ve noticed that he also tried very hard to act like he no longer had any feelings for you when he wrote many of these songs,” your mum added with a conviction that only fuelled the intense turmoil inside of you. “He always claimed that he just needed something for his lyrics. He was just drawing inspiration from personal experience. But I don’t believe that was the entire truth. The lyrics he sent me… they’re a broken heart on paper. They’re a love confession.

“Mum—”

“He tried to tell himself that he’d moved on,” she continued, “but I could tell he hadn’t. You don’t write songs like that about someone you no longer care about.”

You were shaking your head even though she couldn’t see you. You knew your mum was a hopeless romantic, you thought her understanding of love differed from yours very much, and you desperately wanted to believe that you had a rational reason to argue with her.

But really, you were just trying to trick your heart into feeling better. Into believing that you didn’t have nearly as much of an impact on him as he continuously showed you that you did.

You couldn’t breathe.

“I haven’t heard from him in a while until just recently,” your mum said, gently breaking the silence. “Ask him about the song he’s working on now, sweetheart.”

Your heart exploded again. “He—he sent you something else?”

“A few nights ago,” she said. “He said he’s done with the lyrics; he has the demo. He wants to record it now. It’s called—hold on, the title was a mouthful.” You heard some shuffling on her end, overshadowed partially by your racing heart. “Ah, here. It’s called “The Puddle of Champagne on the Bathroom Floor.””

The force of her words made your stomach plummet as goosebumps battled the heat for precedence over your skin.

The past month rushed back to you in disordered flashes – Amsterdam. Your hotel room. Hoseok’s party. Boxes of champagne in the bathroom of Hoseok’s room. The motorcycle ride in Tilburg. The bet. The IV drip in Manchester. Jungkook’s irreparable tendency for big gestures. The pebbles he’d thrown at your window. The kiss in the garden outside the hotel.

You weren’t just his manager. You’d never been just his manager.

“I—I have to go, mum,” you managed to say, leaning against the wall in an attempt to stand up.

You didn’t actually have to go; the girls had promised to wait for you. But your whole body itched with an unrelenting restlessness, and you thought your legs would turn themselves inside out if you didn’t set them in motion right this second.

“Yeah?” she asked with traces of obvious concern in her words. “Call me later, sweetheart, okay?”

“I will,” you promised, lightheaded as you stood and bumped your thigh into the nightstand next to the bed. You unplugged your phone, letting the charger dangle, and navigated the room to the bathroom. Your fingers felt numb as you clutched your phone to your ear. “I—thank you. I love you.”

“Be brave, okay?” your mum said, sending another shiver down your spine. “I love you so much.”

You mumbled something—or may have actually opened your mouth to reply, you weren’t sure of anything anymore—as you ended the call and tossed your phone onto the bed from the doorway of the bathroom.

You needed water first—to wash your face, to drink, and to possibly drown your feelings in.

You weren’t sure, after all, if you were ready to go out with Luna and Maggie tonight. You weren’t sure if you were ready to leave your bathroom at all.

And that was how the girls discovered you twenty minutes later—perched on the counter next to the sink in your bathroom, cradling a towel on your lap as your mind vacillated between impressive emptiness and a thick fog of thoughts that refused to dissipate.

“Hey,” Luna whispered as the two girls slipped into the room. Now that they were here, you thought you could remember hearing a faint knock on the door. “What’s wrong?”

The question finally forced the racing thoughts in your head to stop.

“Nothing,” you responded, using the towel to wipe the water on your face, even though most of it had already dripped onto your black tights a long time ago. You missed the look that Luna and Maggie exchanged. “Sorry, were you—”

“Babe, you’re crying,” Maggie pointed out, carefully pulling your ponytail away from your face and over your shoulder.

You instinctively reached up to your eyes.

“I’m not, this is—it’s water.” You raised the towel as evidence. “I was washing—”

Maggie rubbed your arm patiently. “It’s water coming out of your eyes, babe.”

You glanced over at Luna, but she stood with her arms crossed over her chest and a concerned expression on her face.

We’ll be here a while, her stance was saying. But we’ll get to the bottom of it.

You looked down. “Sorry. I’m really okay.”

“I know you think that if you say you’re okay enough times, people will believe you,” Luna said firmly because her heart had dropped to her heels when Maggie threw the door open, and they found you here, completely dissociated, with a dangerous vacancy in your eyes. “But that’s not what happens. People just pretend to believe you, so you’d feel better. We know you’re not okay.”

You have started to realise that over the last few days.

So, taking an uncertain breath, you told them most of what your mum had just told you: about Jungkook’s heartbreak, and about your own. About his conversations with her, and about your self-imposed vow of silence. About his songs, and about your deliberate blindness for the lyricism, which had always been saturated with sentiments from the past seven years.

You chose not to mention the emptiness you felt after your mum had explained her reasoning for getting back together with your dad because you were worried you would not have enough water or towels to conceal your emotions.

After you finished speaking, Maggie, in her typical manner, made a profound summary of it all: “Well, shit.”

Luna nodded in agreement and tilted her head.

“But wait,” she said. “Why—why is this—but why are you crying about this?”

“I’m not,” you replied. You felt the childish defiance in your tone, but it was so intrinsic for you that you just said it and gave your friend an apologetic look.

“Right.” Luna glanced at her reflection in the mirror behind you, reminding herself that you’d sooner drown yourself in the flood of your tears than admit to crying. “Why are you trying so hard to pretend you’re not crying, then?”

You had to battle yourself a little more until you finally exhaled and leaned your back against the mirror.

“I—well—mostly because it’s just been so long. Fucking ages. And I was, you know. All this time, I was playing my little game.” You raised the pitch of your voice to imitate yourself, “oh, I’m such a great manager, I’m so insanely professional that you wouldn’t even think he’s my fucking ex-boyfriend.” You scoffed, shaking your head. Luna observed the way your hands trembled when you lifted them to your neck. “And he was—he was writing fucking songs about—a-and sending them to my mum to ask for her approval. Her permission. Her—just fucking talking to her. While I wasn’t talking to anyone. While I was acting like I lived in a magic fucking kingdom with purple ponies and rainbows, and no ex-boyfriends.”

The girls shared a look and half of a whole conversation—albeit in different languages, because when Luna opened her mouth to offer comforting words, Maggie placed her hand on your arm and shook her head.

“To be fair,” she said, “before I found out he’s your ex, I would have never suspected it.”

You raised your eyes. “You—well, see! That’s because I was—”

“No, wait, that’s—” Luna interjected, then paused to frown at Maggie. “Actually, hold on. How did you find out?”

You tightened your lips and returned your attention to Maggie. Most of the staff seemed to just know about you and Jungkook—like they knew most things—and you had obviously preferred to pretend like your relationship had never happened, so you’d never asked how they learned about it. But now you were curious.

“He told me,” Maggie stated simply, pulling away from you to straighten her dress. She kept her eyes on the ground.

“Jungkook?” Luna clarified.

Maggie nodded and looked up at you, tentative. “Yeah. A-and I’m afraid I might have mentioned it to Seokjin after that. And a few people might have overheard, and it, um—well, I think the news spread. But, in my defence, the band already knew.”

“The—” You blinked. “Well, I was the one who told the band. I thought I had to, or it wouldn’t be fair.”

“Oh.” She pondered that for a moment. “Okay. So—okay.”

“But how did you find out about it?” Luna pressed.

“Right.” Maggie bit her lip. She looked at you as she spoke. “It was a little over a year ago. We were drunk one night after a gig, and you were outside with Namjoon and Seokjin, having a smoke or whatever. And one of the roadies made a joke, something about how you three always disappear together. You know, a suggestive joke.”

You groaned. Most of the road crew was not affiliated with the company, so you hired new people for each tour. You recalled a few awful experiences with them and wondered if this would be another one.

“Yeah,” Maggie agreed with your scrunched-up nose. “That’s how I reacted, too. But the roadies kept going, because, you know, it was a joke, they didn’t realise it was hurting anybody. So, they were saying how they’ve heard that you had dated some producer from the label before. And they wondered if Namjoon could have been the guy, and Jin’s just the third wheel to kind of throw everybody off your scent.”

Your frown deepened. “Oh, my God.”

“Right,” she said again, nodding. “Well, Jungkook suddenly stood up and left. I didn’t even realise he was upset or anything, but Hoseok leaned over and asked if I could go check on him, so I went. I found him in the parking lot and asked him what was up, why was he looking so irritated or whatever. And he said he’s the guy you dated, not Namjoon. He said it with so much pride, too, kind of like it was an achievement or something.”

This was the moment when you looked down, and Maggie turned to look at Luna instead. Luna was positively glowing as she processed the new information and made mental notes.

“I think I mentioned that to him, actually,” Maggie went on, “because he later said, “it’s not an achievement if I’ve lost it.” But I was so drunk that I didn’t realise what he was talking about. I asked, “what’s ‘it’? What did you lose?” and he just stopped speaking and pulled out another cigarette.”

Something already tight seemed to tighten even more in your stomach.

Luna was the one who replied with a shake of her head and an affectionate observation: “The two of you have some productive discussions when you’re drunk.”

“Hmmm.” Maggie pulled on the skin around her nail. Her mind was focused on the events that happened later and she turned back to you, admitting, “I-I’m sorry I might have been the one who started the chain of—well, I shouldn’t have told anyone. I only meant to ask Jin if he knew about it, and it—”

“It’s okay,” you cut her off. “No one’s ever said anything to me about it.”

Maggie bit her lip again, still uneasy. “I’m—honestly, up until a few days ago when this whole mess with the bet started, I didn’t even think about that conversation with Jungkook, because—I mean, both of you seemed so normal around each other. Well, you know. He flirted with you all the time, I now realise, but he’s kind of a little shit in general, so it didn’t feel weird. And it didn’t even occur to me to think that the reason he was upset that night was because he was drunk and angry about not being with you anymore. I thought he was just irritated for no reason.”

Your eyes were fixed on the bathroom carpet—hoping, irrationally, that if you stared at it hard enough, it would absorb the fact that Maggie had witnessed Jungkook like this in the very prime of your insistence that you could remain professional and your past relationship would never be a problem. In the very prime of your hopeless attempt to run away from yourself.

“Yeah,” Luna said to her, understanding. “He does that sometimes. Gets upset randomly.”

“Yeah.” Maggie nodded. “A little moody. Comes with the job, I guess.”

Luna nodded back. “Yeah.”

This exchange finally snapped you out of your daze and you shook your head with a resigned smile. Luna’s face brightened as she leaned her hip against the counter next to you, and Maggie chuckled, pressing her shoulder against the wall on your other side.

“You know,” Luna said, turning to look at you. “I always wondered how he managed to resist for so long. I mean, you’ve been with the band for over two years now, right? And all he did was just tease you and make jokes. Like a middle-schooler, pulling the hair of his crush. But, really. How did he hold back from doing more?”

You tried, “but why—”

“I’m sure he was doing it for her,” Maggie interjected, pointing at you as though you were an inanimate object—something placed on the bathroom counter for decoration and easily picked up to discuss. “Maybe because he didn’t think she would want him back.”

“Well, what changed?” Luna questioned. “Why did he suddenly act on his feelings?”

“Well, Sid came along.”

“Ah.” Luna nodded, remembering suddenly how Jungkook told her that the bet had given him the push he needed. “That’s right.”

Your gaze ricocheted from one girl to the other. Your mind processed their conversation as if it were the plot of a series you had watched rather than something you had lived through.

“Yeah, and look, it may not have been that hard for him to hold back,” Maggie speculated. “Jungkook is the King of Bottled Emotions.”

“That’s true,” Luna agreed. “And he put all his feelings into his songs, which probably helped for the time being.”

“Yeah. That’s probably exactly it. And I think—”

“Okay!” you interjected, smacking your palms against your thighs. You didn’t think you had it in you to handle another and. “Hi? I’m here, too.”

Both girls turned to you with grins that indicated they were well aware of what they were doing.

“How are you feeling?” Luna asked.

“Confused,” you replied, wiping the corners of your eyes with your fingers. They were stained with your wet eyeshadow.

Luna raised a curious eyebrow. “Is that better than what you were feeling before, or—”

“It’s different,” you said, exhaling with a great strain. “I have to talk to him.”

Luna looked startled as she glanced at Maggie. “Uh—r-right now?”

The unexpected question made you lose what little courage you had. “I—I don’t know?”

“I saw him in the lobby earlier,” Maggie admitted slowly, very upset to find herself as the bearer of bad news tonight. “With Minjun. They, um—they left together.”

“Oh.” You looked down. “Well, that—maybe that’s good.”

Neither of your friends thought that was good as they both looked at each other in alarm. For once, they both thought the same thing, and that was a plan of how to track Jungkook down for you. They knew you well enough to fear that if you two did not talk about it right now, you never would.

“Really?” Luna asked uncertainly. “Because we can try to—”

“No, no,” you said. “Maybe I need to calm down first. Somehow.”

The girls both exhaled quietly. Calming down first implied talking to him second.

“Would, um,” Maggie said, “getting wasted help with that?”

You looked at her, a small smile on your lips. “It might.”

It started raining while the girls helped you fix your make-up, and the three of you stepped into the empty street laughing as the wind played havoc with your umbrella while you waited for the taxi. You hadn’t had time to properly pack your handbag or take any obligatory group pictures together, but you still felt significantly better.

Once you arrived at the bar, you stopped to shake off your umbrella and briefly split from the group as the girls hurried into the warm, dry building. Standing under the canopy by the entrance, you caught something out of the corner of your eye and turned to look. It was a waft of smoke from someone’s cigarette in the smoking area by the side of the building. You didn’t think much of it.

But when you tapped your umbrella against the pavement one last time, the smoker poked his head, gazing somewhere opposite from you. You looked up to see a familiar jet-black hair, styled in an overly gelled quiff, eerily similar to the hairstyle Sid wore every day.

The person did not turn to look at you, but this was enough for dread to grip your stomach, casting a terrible shadow over your uplifted mood.

You tried to rationalise that there was no logical reason for Sid to be in London. This person just couldn’t be him. Sid had showed up in Manchester, sure, but Jungkook had been certain that this was over. Even Sid couldn’t be pathetic enough to follow him all the way to London.

A group of people obstructed your view of the smoker as they tried to pass you to enter the bar. Apologising, you opened the door and finally walked inside.

The place exuded an unexpected elegance. A bar, with numerous tables scattered about, claimed half the space, while a dancefloor was partially concealed behind a row of private mahogany booths. The music was loud, but not overwhelming, and the area was dimly lit by massive chandeliers suspended above each table in every booth. Their faint light barely illuminated the drink menus strewn across the tables.

There weren’t many people here, and this seemed like a lowkey, comfortable place for the night—provided the person outside wasn’t Sid.

“No fucking way,” a voice cried from your left.

Flinching, you turned and noticed the entrance to the men’s room first, and Jude’s expectant eyes next. A chill coursed through you, rendering your legs numb.

No.

No, no, no, no—

“What are the fucking odds?” he exclaimed, grinning. You realised how odd it was for Jude to talk to you without Sid initiating the conversation, and you dreaded, suddenly, that he might come in, too. “This must be—what’s it called when—something about kissing, I think. Kissling? You know? Destiny?”

You swallowed. “Kismet.”

“That’s the one, yeah!” Jude raised his hands victoriously. He appeared to be on something; he had never looked at you for longer than two seconds when he was sober, let alone moved around so vigorously. “Hey, are you here alone?”

“I’m not,” you replied.

“Do you want to join us?” he asked. You didn’t like the plural pronoun one bit.

This had to be a nightmare, you thought. You half-expected to glance down and find yourself standing naked in the middle of the room—and then you would wake up.

Jude’s grin widened when you didn’t respond, and looked around to see if your friends were near. They were, but they seemed to be busy choosing a table.

“You know we don’t bite,” Jude reassured as if your hesitation was about potential biting rather than the insurmountable headache that Sid and Jude collectively induced just by being in the same room with you.

You managed a weak smile. “I’ll pass. You’re hanging around here, then?”

“We were just leaving,” Jude said—who was this “we,” you wondered irritably—and, most impudently, he leaned closer. “We have some molly to keep us company for the rest of the night. They call it mandy in England, did you know? You mix it with speed, and you just fucking fly. You look like you could use some.”

He chuckled and pulled back. You wondered if your reaction showed on your face; Jude did not acknowledge it.

You did not think you needed club drugs. You thought you needed pepper spray.

“Thanks,” you said. “But I’d prefer it if you just left me alone if that’s not too much trouble.”

He laughed—a disturbing echo of Sid’s cackle—and a shiver of revulsion ran down your spine. While Jude wasn’t the most pleasant person to be around, he was usually tolerable when Sid wasn’t by his side. What had he done to him?

“Alright, well, suit yourself,” Jude responded, unfazed. “If you change your mind, you know where to find us.”

You suppressed the urge to rattle off a list of locations where you would look for them—the sewers, a dumpster, a toxic waste site—and pursed your lips.

“So, you’re staying in London?” you asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied cheerily.

You nodded. “Lovely.”

He turned towards the door with his unwavering smirk, but kept glancing back at you every few seconds, seemingly hesitating. You watched his movements like one might watch the launch of a spacecraft—counting down the seconds until it’s in the air and out of your sight.

“Well, we will see you later,” he said, one hand on the handle. He lingered by the door for a good ten seconds, letting the cold air in and clearly anticipating your response.

You cleared your throat. “Not unless I have a say in that.”

He snorted. “Funny. We’ll be thinking of you.”

You did not speak. He did not move.

“Don’t both—” you started and then stopped abruptly.

Jude raised his eyebrows in the doorway. There was something about the way he looked at you, the way he lingered here while Sid smoked outside.

God, this might have been the same instinct that Minjun had to save Jude from Sid, but you sighed and managed a quiet, “Jude, um—be careful, alright?”

A myriad of colours passed on his face as he tried to comprehend your words.

“Wha—why—what do you mean?” he asked, so wide-eyed and utterly astonished that you felt uncomfortable looking at him.

“I’m just saying,” you said awkwardly. “Sid doesn’t care about what happens to you. Make sure you look after yourself. Drink water if you’re going to be tripping on something.”

He stayed frozen, almost statuesque—not blinking, seemingly not even breathing—for so long that you were starting to worry he had astral projected, leaving his corporeal form behind.

“Thank you,” he said after a full minute, with an unexpected clarity that you hadn’t heard from him earlier.

You nodded in response and he finally stepped outside, lingering as if tethered by a new string of hesitation, before finally letting the door close behind him.

When you joined your friends at the table they had picked, you interrupted their conversation about the atmosphere inside the club. Maggie was the first to notice your expression.

“Jesus,” she said. “What happened to you?”

“Jude’s here.”

Both girls looked at each other in dramatic disbelief—Maggie even gasped—and instinctively rose from their seats to crowd around you.

“What? Did you talk to him?” Luna questioned as Maggie pulled you deeper into the booth. The two of them scanned the bar as though Jude was still here, hiding somewhere.

“I—yeah,” you said. “But he left. I think I saw Sid outside.”

Their surprise morphed into complete horror. You gestured for them to sit down.

“But wait—fuck,” Luna said, standing straight. “We can go somewhere else.”

“No, I’m—if they come back, then yes,” you said. “But if they don’t, then let’s just stay here so we don’t run into them elsewhere.”

They looked around warily once more—just in case—before reluctantly settling down. Maggie took a seat next to you, while Luna sat down across the table.

This was when the girls began to fire every question they had, and you repeated the only answer you could offer.

“So, they’re in London,” Maggie said, tapping her nails against the table. “Why?”

“I have no idea,” you said.

“Does Jungkook know?”

“I have no idea.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I have no idea.”

Maggie reclined in her seat, deciding she’s had enough of this game.

“Well,” she said, “that’s great. I need a fucking drink.”

You hummed and brought your hand over the cocktail menu. Luna offered to make the first run to the bar, effectively changing the subject.

But shortly after, when she returned with a tray full of colourful, fruity drinks, you and Maggie were already back to discussing the details of your exchange with Jude—how unusual he seemed, and the awkward turn the conversation took.

“I think that’s enough of Sid and Jude,” Luna said, sitting down across from the two of you and handing out the drinks. “Different topic?”

“Oh, but hold on—while we’re on the topic of awkward conversations,” Maggie said, earning a quizzical look from you both. She ignored it. “Have you talked to that guy? That supervisor guy—you know the one.”

“Oh, Nick?” you asked, picking up your strawberry daiquiri and sliding Maggie’s tequila sunrise towards her. You accidentally nudged the cherry on the rim, causing it to fall into the drink. “Sorry—”

“It’s fine,” she said, deftly rescuing the cherry on its stem and popping it into her mouth.

“I haven’t talked to him yet,” you replied. “But I’m not working for Reconnaissance, that’s decided already.”

“Yeah?” Maggie smirked, punctuating her words with a purposefully seductive sip of her drink. “Anyone in particular help you with that decision?”

Despite her ambiguous question, you took a sip of your drink and felt yourself slowly relax. You were here with your friends. There was no harm to be done to either of you.

“Well, Jin did, actually,” you said. “We had a very productive conversation.”

“Hmm.” Maggie gave Luna a suggestive glance. “And no one else?”

You shrugged. “Yoongi and Namjoon—”

“Okay, you queen of evasion,” Maggie gave up, prompting Luna to giggle on the other side of the table as she absentmindedly stirred her Martini with the paper umbrella. “Are you getting back together with Jungkook or not? After everything that happened tonight?”

The way she said it—almost giving you options, even—was so simple that it made you wonder how much better things might have been between you and Jungkook if the two of you hadn’t been so obnoxiously determined to tiptoe around your feelings and had asked each other questions the way Maggie asked them.

“Well, my mum thinks we should get back together,” you said slowly.

“I care about what you think,” Maggie said—just like that. Luna nodded to herself, making a note to keep drinking until she, too, could start asking complicated questions in such an effortless way.

You finished your drink before speaking.

“I want to try,” you said. “But I’m—you know. I’m also scared that we’ll end up going around in circles, making the same mistakes.”

Maggie regarded you as if you’d dropped your hat in horse shit and put it straight back on.

“Babe, that’s a One Direction song,” she said.

You scoffed and looked down at your glass. “I know. My mum’s favourite, actually. But what I’m trying to say is, I’m scared.”

“Isn’t everyone?” she challenged. “But they still try.”

“They…” Your confidence waned as you realised you might have to talk about the complexities of your parents’ history once again tonight. You wanted to leave that discussion behind, so you finished simply, “they don’t have unsuccessful relationships left, right and centre to get inspiration from.”

“Excuse me?” Maggie arched her brows. “Rue and I have been together for three years—”

“Four,” Luna interjected.

“For four years,” Maggie corrected, “and we couldn’t be happier. Are we not successful?”

Feeling a bit like prey cornered by a very determined predator, you leaned against the back of the booth and cleared your throat. “Well, y-you are, but—”

“Luna and Taehyung!” Maggie continued, fired up. “They’ve been together for a whole year and—”

“Almost two, actually,” Luna said.

“Jesus!” Maggie threw her hands in the air. “I’m bad with dates, okay? Let me live.” She turned back to you as Luna grinned. Exhaling, Maggie continued in a more patient tone, “I mean, there are successful relationships around you. You just choose not to look at them.”

She was right about that, but it didn’t seem quite as simple or straightforward to you.

“Neither of you broke up and then got back together again, though,” you said.

Maggie was mid-syllable (a very frustrated “tha—”) when she realised that she couldn’t really argue. She quieted and frowned, finding her straw with her tongue and taking a long sip of her drink.

Luna took over. “Taehyung and I did, actually.”

Both you and Maggie looked up in surprise.

“What?” Maggie inquired first. “Seriously?”

“Well, it was only for two days,” Luna explained, grabbing a napkin from the dispenser on the edge of the table. “So, I’m not sure if it counts.”

“What happened?” you asked.

She dabbed her lips with the napkin, painting it a gentle shade of plum from her lipstick, and crumpled it.

“We were together for about eight or nine months at the time,” she said. “Rated Riot were on their first cross-country tour. Remember? It was a big deal, and the guys were stressed.” She paused to wait for your nod of confirmation. “We hadn’t seen each other in weeks. He called me one night and just—he said he couldn’t do this to me, that I deserved someone better, that he couldn’t—well, you know. The textbook ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ stuff.”

You and Maggie both nodded.

“How did you make up?” you asked.

“He flew in to see me on his day off and took back everything he’d said.” A faint smile played on her lips as she spoke, but she avoided looking at either of you—the story still felt a little too intimate, too raw to share. “He said he was confused and scared, that’s why he thought it’d be better to break up. But then he said he realised he was even more afraid of losing what we had, so he had to make it right.”

“I remember him flying out to see you,” you said. You remembered yelling at him, too, for leaving the tour right before a concert—but Taehyung usually only listened to Taehyung. “I didn’t know that it was because you broke up. I’m sorry.”

Luna finally looked up, waving her hand dismissively.

“Don’t be, it’s fine,” she said. “We made up. And the break-up barely lasted a few days, I didn’t even have a chance to tell you about it.”

Maggie was smiling as she reached for the brightest remaining cocktail on the table—a Cosmopolitan—and collected the empty glasses, putting them back on the tray. She handed you and Luna glasses of faint pink, peach-flavoured cocktails and settled back in her seat.

You nodded in gratitude and turned to Luna once more. “Were you scared? To take him back?”

“No. I…” she trailed off, searching for a better way to explain herself. Maggie, in the meantime, threw her head back and finished her drink. “I don’t know. I kind of—maybe it didn’t sink in that we had broken up? It was very sudden, we hadn’t seen each other in a while, and I knew his tour schedule. I knew we wouldn’t be seeing each other again anytime soon anyway. So, it didn’t feel like a break-up. I was—I think the whole time, I felt like he would come back eventually. Is that weird?”

“It’s romantic,” Maggie exhaled, resting her head on her palms on the table, a wistful haze in her eyes.

“You’re drooling, Mags,” you pointed out, grinning.

She ran her tongue over her lips, then waved her hand around lazily. “Let me.”

Chuckling, Luna passed her a napkin.

“I don’t think it’s weird, either,” you said. “But I—I guess I never felt that certainty. I didn’t think Jungkook would come back.”

“No? Not even when you found out you’d be managing his band?” Luna asked, her smile widening. “Because—listen—I distinctly remember you calling me after you got the offer to work with them, and you were all panicked, asking me if I knew who they were.”

“Oh.” You felt your own lips stretch into a smile. “I remember, too.”

In hindsight, that day had been absurd. You were offered the manager position for a band that you had never heard of, and during the first meeting with the HR representative at the label, you pretended very passionately that you were familiar with their music and the band members themselves. And the rep, in turn, pretended very passionately that he believed you.

“I don’t,” Maggie spoke up. “You didn’t tell me. What happened?”

“Well, she asked me if I knew them,” Luna recalled and you took a moment to sip your neglected drink, “and I said I’ve heard of them. I liked “Haunting,” one of their early songs.”

The mention of the song triggered the memory of Jungkook humming it to you in the bar in Oslo when he told you that he’d written it about you. This memory, in turn, brought back the conversation you’ve had with your mum. Your pulse sped up, and you finished your drink in a futile attempt to slow it down.

“So, she came over after her meeting, and I played her the music video,” Luna continued. “At that point, I didn’t know the names of anyone in the band. “Haunting” was the only song I’d heard. So, I played the video for her, and I was talking about how I thought the bassist was cute—”

“Oh, that’s right, you weren’t dating Taehyung yet!” Maggie interjected, raising her head with a sudden excitement.

Luna nodded. “Yeah. And then I noticed that she’s just kind of staring at the screen, completely in awe. I thought she liked the song, that’s why. So, I asked, “what did you think? It’s good, right?” and she just turned to me, and said in the most blank tone, “that’s Jungkook.””

Maggie’s mouth hung open as she glanced at you. “You didn’t know he was in a band? In that band?!”

You were counting the lines on the mahogany table and stayed quiet. Maggie gestured speechlessly for Luna to please, for the love of God, continue.

“I was confused, too,” Luna said. “I asked, “what do you mean? Your Jungkook?” and she just said, “yeah,” and went quiet again. Well, she also tried to insist he’s not her Jungkook, but I’m trying to give you the short version of the story. Anyway. I played the video again to check for myself. But he had long hair in it, sort of curly. He looked completely different from what I had pictured in my head based on the few things she’d told me.”

Maggie turned to you again. “And you never showed her what he looked like?!”

“I think I did,” you replied uneasily. You had met Luna shortly after your break-up with Jungkook, but you wanted to believe that your secrecy about your relationship wasn’t that bad.

It was—and Luna grinned as she shook her head.

“She didn’t,” she said, turning to Maggie again. “She made sure to delete every single picture they had together. I only saw him once, when she and I took her dog to the vet. She was explaining the dog’s weight loss to the doctor and had to find a picture for reference. The only photo she could find on such short notice was an old screenshot from Snapchat where Jungkook was the one holding the dog. But he had… like, a bowl cut back then? Not the dog, I mean. Jungkook,” she clarified, and all three of you snorted. “He looked cute, of course. But nothing like the guy in the music video, so I didn’t even think about him when I watched it.”

For some reason, hearing about this random picture hurt. It’s been so long and, obviously, you and Jungkook have been through a lot more together—some of which was far worse than an old picture you stumbled upon in your phone by accident—and still, it hurt.

It wasn’t the memory itself that was painful, but the parts of you that were still alive in it. The parts of you that deleted all the pictures, but kept the screenshots. Threw out all the dried flowers, but kept the matching jackets. Blocked all his profiles, but not his phone number.

And there was another keepsake that you couldn’t bring yourself to delete: a video from that fateful birthday party where Jungkook had drunkenly performed a Backstreet Boys song; one of your friends had recorded it on your phone. As soon as he finished the song, Jungkook—wielding a half-empty bottle—chased after you, threatening to bathe you in champagne if you didn’t delete the video right this instant.

You still had it. You still watched it sometimes.

And then, years later, he walked into your office for the first time, his stupid silver necklace catching the sunlight and blinding you as soon as you looked up—just as it would every day for months to come—and there he was. Existing in your life all over again.

And it felt, you thought in retrospect, like he had never truly left. Every absence of him that you tried to manufacture by deleting your shared pictures only served to accentuate the fact that he’d been here once upon a time, and now he wasn’t. It was like missing a tooth—like pulling it out by force—and then continuously running your tongue over the gap.

“So, how come you still had that screenshot?” Maggie asked, her question snapping your attention back to the present.

You cleared your throat in an attempt to mask the undertow of emotions threatening to surface.

“For my dog,” you said. “He looked very chunky in that picture.”

Maggie grinned. “And what did Jungkook look like?”

“He was…” you looked for an adequate word, did not find one, and finished weakly, “there.”

“Hmm, right,” Luna said, with an ambiguous smile on her face. You were afraid of what she’d say next. “My favourite part about it all, is that you chose to accept the job even after you found out Jungkook is in the band.”

“I personally think that’s beautiful,” Maggie, who found everything beautiful after two drinks, chimed in.

You wanted to disagree, to bring up the fact that this job was a great opportunity—it really was!—and that this was the only reason you’d accepted it. Consciously, at least. But the girls were determined to fully ambush you.

“What did you feel when you saw him again as his manager?” Luna asked, shuffling to the very edge of her seat.

“Nothing,” you said, already a little dizzy from the drinks and the intense attention from your friends. You remembered feeling chaos back then; messy, uncontrollable mayhem roaming in your mind. But, compared to your feelings now, it might as well have been nothing. “I knew we’d have to work together, so I—nothing.”

“Oh!” Maggie groaned. “You’re so full of shit.”

You weren’t prepared for the abrupt shift in her tone. “Wh—”

“Let me show you,” she said, forcing the clasp on her purse open to retrieve her phone.

“Show me what?” you asked, still confused and now a little concerned.

“I’ll show you!” she cried out before proceeding to mumble under her breath with intermittent shouts, “oh, how I’ll show you—like no one’s ever shown you anything! before—you won’t know what hit! you when I show you—”

“We get it, Maggie,” Luna interrupted, reaching out to touch Maggie’s wrist. “Get on with it, please.”

“I’m looking—here!” She tapped her screen. “Here, look at this.”

She pointed her phone at Luna, who looked at it and appeared ever more confused than you felt, even though you hadn’t even seen what was on it.

“What—who is that?” she asked.

“That’s her and Jungkook!” Maggie bellowed, sweeping her arm so far back to point at you that she nearly yanked out your earring. “Sitting in an empty bathtub, drinking champagne, and laughing!”

A rush of heat surged through you as Luna gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh, my God!”

You leaned across the table to grab Maggie’s phone from her.

The picture was beautiful, which was the first thing that you noticed. It was black and white with melancholic shadows swirling in the periphery. It was taken, you realised, from the corridor outside the bathroom during Hoseok’s party in Amsterdam.

Your stomach dropped once more tonight, because, of course, this was the night that Jungkook had named his latest song after.

Your skin felt wrong all of a sudden, and everything inside of you wanted to come out. You gripped Maggie’s phone tighter.

In the picture, both you and Jungkook had your backs to the camera, only visible from the shoulders up because the bathtub concealed the rest. You were holding glasses of champagne.

Jungkook’s gaze, captured in the dimly lit frame, was fixed on you. His head was turned slightly, and if it weren’t for the bright smile on his face, you might not have known it was him; the photograph was too dark. You, on the other hand, had your head thrown back in laughter and blended seamlessly into an unrecognisable silhouette.

Your heart pounded against your ribs as you looked up from your friend’s phone. “When—how did you even take this?”

“You left the door open, you idiots,” Maggie replied.

“Let me see it again,” Luna asked, taking the phone from your shaking hands. “This looks like it could be an actual film poster for an indie romantic drama.”

“Titled,” Maggie added, “When In Bath…”

The two girls snickered, cracking each other up by nodding along to the joke until they were pounding their fists into the table in laughter. You wondered if this was the alcohol.

“Alright, alright,” you interrupted. “It—it’s a great picture. But it doesn’t mean anything.”

“It means you’ve been in love with each other from the very beginning,” Maggie said, seizing the opportunity to play the role of a triumphant attorney, delivering a powerful closing statement in court. “And you can try to act like you haven’t been, like it all came as such a big shock, like you’d moved on, so, oh my God,” she gasped theatrically, “where are all these feelings coming from?!”

You groaned, but Maggie was undeterred, revelling in the dramatic momentum she had built.

“But this,” she lifted her phone as though in a poor production of The Lion King, “speaks louder than words. We know he’s loved you the whole time, your mum confirms it. But look at this. Look at how you’re leaning into him as you laugh. Look at how you’re touching his shoulder. You’ve loved him all along, too.”

Luna, definitely tipsy already, burst into energetic applause, and Maggie took a dramatic bow, her necklace clattering against the table. In her flourish, she nudged her empty cocktail glass with her shoulder, and you leaned over to catch it before it knocked your bag off the table. A few people from nearby booths turned in your direction.

“So, you see,” Maggie continued before you could ask the two of them to take it easy, “all you’re doing is just making excuses.”

“Well. Here’s another one,” you said, sliding out of the booth. “I’m going to grab us some snacks.”

The girls groaned and made various comments about how they knew this would happen—but their complaints soon transformed into a list of drinks they wanted you to bring back. You smiled, grateful for their short attention span, and diligently noted down their orders on Maggie’s phone, since you’d left yours at the hotel.

And still, even as you walked away, your heart refused to rest.

Jungkook had been right when he said that you needed to talk to your mum. Really, you did. But it wasn’t just her words, her experiences, and her arbitrary decisions that convinced you that you should have listened to the beating in your chest when he was in the room with you.

It was your friends, too—the family you had found and did not even realise it. It was their patience, their courage, their certainty, and their belief.

You felt a lot more determined to see what would happen. A lot more daring to make it happen. And a lot more convinced that it would be okay, eventually.

As soon as you reached the bar, you immediately noticed the change in atmosphere. The club, initially laid-back, had completely transformed as the clock struck midnight. Groups of young people filled the space, hanging out by the bar, dancing, or just chatting loudly at their tables. It took you a while to navigate through the lively crowd and return to your table with your order.

When you did, the girls grabbed the cocktails as if they had never seen any sort of liquor in their lives. They downed them in several big gulps, and, amused by their enthusiasm, you joined in, too.

As the glasses—and the bowls of roasted pistachios—on the tray emptied, the rest of the night blurred into swirls of clapping, laughing, spinning around on the dancefloor, meeting Mick Jagger’s doppelganger, buying drinks, swapping shoes with each other, losing your jackets somewhere around the club, having a Macarena dance battle, buying more drinks, recording yourselves singing along to an Elton John song that had no business being played in a club, starting a very successful conga line (not to an Elton John song), and stealing someone’s pink feather boa.

It was a night.

Jungkook had made plans with Minjun to distract himself from thoughts of you until tomorrow, and the two of them ended up doing very cultured things. But strolling around West End in the British drizzle wasn’t nearly as enjoyable as they had tried to convince themselves it’d be. Their enthusiasm about this excursion quickly faded, leading them to the nearest pub for a couple of drinks.

Several hours later, when they returned to the hotel, Jungkook didn’t see any light coming from under your door, indicating that you were still out with Luna and Maggie.

He wanted to text you the whole day, but he held back. Taehyung had told him to give you space; that was good advice. Jungkook only managed to follow it partly, but now that you were on proper speaking terms again, he didn’t want to ruin it by suffocating you.

He was bad at this, though.

He took a long shower and attempted to dry his hair, but the second his phone lit up with a text message, he dropped everything he was holding and executed a very intricate leap for the device—slamming his knee into the bedframe in his excitement.

Hissing in pain, he tumbled pitifully onto the carpet, turned on his back, fixed the towel around his waist, and hoisted himself with a grunt.

Droplets of water from his hair splattered on the screen as he unlocked his phone and momentarily confused the facial recognition. Cursing, he entered his passcode to check the sender and cursed once more when he saw that the text hadn’t come from you.

It was yet another message from the same unknown number, and Jungkook threw his phone back on the bed without bothering to read it.

He dried his hair first, then changed into sweats. It was then—while he was pulling his hoodie over his head—that the realisation struck him: unlike the previous texts from this same number, this one wasn’t fully capitalised.

Tentatively, he picked up his phone again and opened the one-sided conversation. He found that, throughout the evening, he’d received four messages from this number. The first contained a video attachment—the preview screen was black, and Jungkook did not want to click on it—followed by three taunting texts:

Remember this? :)

Come on, take a nice trip down memory lane with me, it’s a cute little clip

Do you think your manager would like to see this too? ❤️

He scrolled back up to the attachment and realised that his hands had begun to shake. Even though he had a feeling what he was going to see, he still clicked on the video and held his breath.

Honestly, it wasn’t as bad as he’d expected. Although to be fair, his expectations might have been unrealistic. Unless Sid had resorted to secret cameras, which was extreme even for him, Jungkook had no reason to get this panicked.

But this video was still not good.

It was filmed in a nightclub and the scenes played out in short flashes under the flickering strobe lights, illuminating the dancing bodies around the person recording it. The camera panned to Jungkook and the two people he was dancing with—both dressed in dark leather jumpsuits.

Latex, he saw then. Not leather.

The dancing itself wasn’t the worst part of the video, but Jungkook struggled to decide what was. First, his heartbeat faltered as he watched one of his dance partners pour champagne into his mouth, licking off the excess that missed his lips. Then, he nearly blacked out as the video concluded with him on top of a table—dancing alone at first, and then with his tongue down someone else’s throat, and his hands—

He had a vague recollection of what happened next and stopped the video before he could see it.

It was clear that Sid had to be the one with the voyeuristic lens. Jungkook had gone clubbing with him that night; Jude was sick and Minjun didn’t want to go.

Two things happened then, and Jungkook was vividly aware of both. First, his phone froze: despite turning the video off, it continued to play the faint melody of an old Benny Benassi remix. And then a disconcerting acceleration seized his heart as though the video itself had seeped into his bloodstream.

Instinctively, he turned his phone off and tried to breathe. The hotel room around him fell into a pleasant silence, but that only made the thumping in his chest more pronounced.

Attempting to ease his rising nausea, Jungkook tried to keep his mind clear: the video had been filmed years ago. He wasn’t sure if he was in Rated Riot yet, but he was sure that the two of you were no longer together. Another helpful fact was that, since you became his manager, you have witnessed him in far worse situations—and rescued him from them, too.

And yet, he did not want you to see this.

He wanted to grow, to extricate himself from the clutches of toxic friendships, to find and build a future with you. And this video felt like a painful regression into his past. An embarrassing leap back.

Overwhelmed with discomfort, he chose to keep his phone off for the remainder of the night, even if that meant missing a text from you.

And then, later that night—or rather, in the early hours of the next day—Jungkook was jolted awake by a violent rattle of the doorknob.

Honestly, for an unsettling, half-asleep moment, he thought this was Sid barging in.

However, as his mind gradually woke up, he felt a more realistic concern: other bands had overzealous fans breaking into their hotel rooms. No one on the staff thought that Rated Riot were on a level where they’d need extra security measures, but now he worried that was a mistake.

Just to be safe—in case this was Sid, after all—Jungkook grabbed the nearest available weapon: a lamp from his bedside table. But the cable limited his reach, forcing him to crouch and lean forward to push the handle down and open the door before jumping back into a defensive position.

He nearly dropped the lamp when the door swung open, and he saw you outside.

It was your presence, in general, that he noticed first. Then it was your outfit: the short black satin dress with thin shoulder straps and thick, black tights with a curious embroidery around your thighs. Then it was your tied-back hair. Your dark eyeshadow and glistening lip gloss. A pink feather stuck to your earring.

He didn’t have it in him to move or to return the lamp to its place.

“Oh, shit,” you said, trying to make sense of the scene before you. You propped yourself against the doorframe. “My key wasn’t turning. I thought I left my room unlocked. What are you—wait. Wait, wait.”

You closed your eyes and squeezed the bridge of your nose with your right hand. Jungkook lowered the lamp to the floor, keeping his gaze on you.

“Okay, I’m good,” you decided. “The room was spinning really fast for a second there.” You chuckled, then stopped abruptly and narrowed your eyes at him. “Am I on the right floor?”

Jungkook blinked, then scoffed at the unexpected question.

“You are,” he confirmed, but, even drunk, you recognised the peculiar look on his face—as though there was something else he was waiting for you to realise.

“Shit.” Your eyes widened. You whispered, “I am still in London, right?”

This time, he couldn’t help a small laugh as he approached you. First, he plucked the feather out of your earring. Then, he led you into his room, his arm around your shoulders.

“You are,” he assured again. “You just got the wrong room.”

You exhaled in relief. “Oh, thank fuck.”

Amused, Jungkook directed you towards the bed, which was the only comfortable piece of furniture here. You plopped down on it, bouncing slightly from the force of your energetic descent.

“Can I sit down for a second?” you asked belatedly. “Fuck these shoes. They’re not even—not even mine.”

Jungkook glanced down at your feet. There was a black platform heel with an ankle strap on your left foot, and a burgundy counterpart on your right.

He lifted his eyes back to your face, very confused. “They’re—whose shoes are they?”

“The black one is Maggie’s,” you explained, reaching for the strap, but struggling because the bed was too soft, and the room spun too much. “The other one is Luna’s. We thought it would be funny.”

He bit his lip. It wasn’t the mismatched shoes that entertained him in particular—not while he was sober, at least—but rather your sense of humour when you were drunk.

“Lucky that they’re the same height,” he observed.

“No, no, no, no. We saw that they were, that is why.” You hiccupped and it veered you away from the topic at hand. “Anyway, it’s not funny anymore. Now it hurts.”

You finally reached the strap of the black heel, but could not figure out the intricate workings of the clasp on it. Jungkook lowered himself to his knees in front of you.

“Let me help you,” he said.

You shook your head, maintaining your grip on the strap as you felt his fingertips ghost over yours.

“I can do it,” you insisted, passionate about your independence even when you could not tell what city you were in.

“I’m sure you can,” he said, gracefully pulling your hand away from the shoe. “But let me do it anyway.”

You huffed—in fervent protest or in reluctant agreement, he wasn’t sure. After another half-sigh, half-groan, you moved your hand to your lap and dropped down on your back on his bed.

He smiled softly as he unbuckled the strap and slid the black heel off. As he did, he noticed that the embroidery on your tights was a thin row of roses—and it wrapped around your thigh.

He found that very interesting and looked away immediately.

“So, anyway,” he said, fighting with the strap on the other shoe. “What happened to drinking responsibly?”

You hiccupped again. “Famous last words.”

He chuckled, lifting your leg onto his knee to get a better look at the stubborn clasp. Your contented sigh was the only indication of you being aware that one of your shoes was already off.

“I spoke to my mum,” you announced without any sort of transition or buildup.

Jungkook tightened his grip on your ankle in uncontrollable surprise, forcing you to lift your head off the bed with a puzzled look.

“Oh,” he managed, releasing his hold. “Yeah?”

Another dreamy sigh passed your lips as your thoughts clouded with memories, then cleared in a blissful, inebriated ignorance once more.

“Yeah,” you said, lowering your head again. The mattress was hard, but it felt very nice. “And then to Luna and Maggie.”

“And, uh, what did they say?” he asked, finally pulling the shoe off.

He got up to place the heels in a corner by the nightstand, so you wouldn’t trip over them when—if?—you stood up.

“A lot of things,” you replied, your words floating somewhere on the edges of consciousness, leaving Jungkook to grapple with the unpredictability of your confessions.

“Okay,” he said. “Maybe we should talk about all of that tomorrow.”

A smile started to form on your lips, but it was swiftly interrupted by a yawn. “Ye—yeah. That’d be good.”

Trying to push Sid’s messages away from resurfacing in his mind at the mention of your upcoming conversation, Jungkook observed your futile attempt to sit up. Having been there before—fairly recently—he empathised with the challenge of keeping your head up when you were drunk.

“Are you sure you want to stand?” he asked as you wriggled on your back, stretching out your hands helplessly—sort of like a tipsy turtle that had tipped over on its shell.

It was dangerous, he realised, just how completely infatuated with you he was to still find this incredibly endearing.

“I must,” you declared with an angry determination. Your anger was largely fuelled by the strain in your neck, caused by your perplexing attempts to lift your head and your legs at the same time. “This isn’t my room.”

It could be, Jungkook thought, at least for tonight.

However, the right thing to do was to guide you back to your own room.

“Come on,” he said, taking your hand and settling beside you to wrap his other arm around your shoulders. “Let’s get you to your bed, then.”

“That would be—” you began, gasping when he abruptly pulled you to your feet and the entire room decided to flip upside down. “Oh—you know what? I’m not sure I’m enjoying this spinning much.”

He looked at you in alarm. “Are you going to be sick?”

“I would prefer not to.”

Jungkook pursed his lips to restrain his amusement.

“I don’t remember the last time I saw you this drunk,” he noted.

“Pity,” you mumbled, your eyes closed. You tried to move your lips as little as possible, convinced that this would help with the dizziness. “If you remembered, maybe you could make the spinning stop.”

He tried to take a step forward with you in his arms. “Can you walk? Or I can carry you.”

You opened your eyes and took a deep breath. Dizzy or not, this was now a matter of pride.

“I have—” You peered down as if to check and the carpet by his bed seemed to wobble. “I have legs. Of course, I can walk.”

The proclamation proved short-lived as you stumbled over the edge of the carpet almost immediately. Jungkook shook his head and tightened his hold on you.

“Alright, come here.” He lowered his hands to your midriff. “Ready? One, two—”

“No, no, no,” you protested, pressing your palms firmly against his hands. He felt the cold metal of your room key against his skin; you must have slipped the keyring onto your finger after you tried to use it on his door. “Either I walk, or I crawl. No carrying. Too much spinning as it is.”

He doubted if carrying you would really make your dizziness worse, but he relented nonetheless.

“Come on, then,” he said. “Hold onto me.”

You finally agreed, leaning against him with nearly your whole strength as you attempted to set one foot in front of the other. Your limbs felt wooden and numb.

“You know—it might’ve been nice if you came with us,” you said.

Jungkook felt his heart rate pick up again. You probably felt it too, since your body was pressed into his, but he trusted that alcohol had rendered you oblivious to everything outside of yourself, so he did not worry about it.

“Yeah?” he replied. “I don’t think I could have walked home in your heels, though.”

You laughed so heartily that he had to pause in front of the door before opening it, a cautious—and almost possessive—instinct to shield this moment from prying ears.

“No, no. I meant because it would have been nice,” you clarified meaningfully.

His smile was warm when he looked at you. “Yeah, you said that.”

Dazed, you turned your head to meet his gaze, inadvertently granting him an opportunity to lift you over the threshold as your attention on your feet wavered. “I did?”

“Mmhmm.” He continued to look at you—while holding you so close that you were starting to question how many drinks you’ve really had tonight—as he removed the keyring from your finger. You looked down, confused. You’d forgotten you were clutching your keys in your palm. “So why did you want me to come? Did you miss me that much?”

“Hmm,” you lifted your eyes and poked his cheek in a rare moment of bold affection, “I’m not drunk enough.”

He smiled again. Holding you to him—his grip around your waist was tenacious; not even the slippery satin of your dress posed a challenge—he managed to unlock your door and open it. He wondered if you remembered that your room was three steps away from his.

“Okay,” he said, walking you to your bed in complete darkness with impressive skill. Neither of you bumped into anything or tripped. “Let’s get you into bed until you’re not drunk at all. How does that sound?”

A nod was all you could muster.

Your eyes were barely open when you felt him gently lower you on the bed. Your body, of course, succumbed to gravity with a great eagerness and you dropped onto your back with a grunt the second he let go of you. You felt a sharp corner digging into your side and exhaled in relief when you realised that was your phone. This must have been where you had left it.

Face buried into the pillows, you mumbled, “ffank-oo.”

He deciphered that as an expression of gratitude and carefully rolled you onto your back by pulling the duvet from underneath you. You were still in your dress, but he didn’t dare to go as far as helping you change. You looked half-asleep anyway.

“I’m right there if you need me, okay?” he said, untangling the dark grey duvet and throwing it over you in one swift motion. “Behind the wall.”

Peering at him with half-closed eyes, you turned onto your side.

“I’ll knock,” you said as he tucked the duvet around you in a manner that felt almost familiar, almost routine.

“You do that,” he replied. “Goodn—”

“I think Sid’s in London.”

Your words sucked the air out of the room and locked his breath in his throat.

This sudden lack of filter—or any warning on your face that you were about to say something completely shocking—unnerved him. He had forgotten what a rollercoaster your intoxication could be.

“What?” he blurted out and shook his head. “No. No, that can’t be true.”

You shrugged one of your shoulders against the pillow. Your eyes were still closed.

“I talked to Jude,” you said. “And he said he wasn’t there alone.”

Jungkook turned a few shades paler—a few more and he might have become completely transparent.

“You talked to Jude?” he repeated. “A-about what?”

“Nothing much,” you said. Irony flashed briefly across your features when you opened your eyes. “Just if I’d like to do ecstasy with them. They mix it with speed. And then they fly.”

The surprise on Jungkook’s face was loud. He could not fathom that Jude—of all people—would invite you—of all people!—to do this with them, when you never even drank sparkling water if Sid was in the room.

“Ecstasy?” he repeated.

“MDMA,” you clarified helpfully.

“No—I know what—he—what did you say?”

Your gaze met his for a moment, and the look on your face suddenly appeared very sober.

“I obviously agreed,” you said, “and a beautiful pink unicorn took me back to the hotel.”

He gave you a look and you closed your eyes again, smirking.

“I told him no,” you said. “Or something to that effect.”

Jungkook finally exhaled.

“Okay,” he murmured, glancing at the door of your room. “That—that’s good. I-I’ll take care of it.”

Your eyes flew open, alarm creeping onto your tired expression.

“No,” you said—the steel in your tone made him turn back to you. “Don’t—leave them be.”

“But they’re—”

He stopped when you reached out from under the duvet to put your hand over his outstretched wrist. He hadn’t even realised he was gesticulating—too lost in his sudden panic—but your touch grounded him right away.

“I don’t care,” you reiterated, your words slightly slurred but very firm, a bit like you were talking in your sleep—saving him in the midst of a nightmare that you didn’t realise you were having. “I don’t want you near them.”

“Okay,” he said easily. And again, “okay.”

You watched him for another few seconds, silently witnessing the storm of thoughts behind his eyes. But your own heavy eyelids soon overpowered the few semi-sober areas of your brain.

As you settled back against your pillow and let go of his hand, Jungkook grew even more aware of the texts—and the video—that Sid had sent him.

“Go to sleep,” you mumbled as if sensing his apprehension.

“I will,” he said. Your lips parted as you breathed slowly and he could tell that you’ve told him all that you could manage tonight.

“Thank you for helping me,” you added quietly.

“No problem. That’s what friends do, right?”

You snickered softly and a hazy memory of all that you did as friends rose to the surface of your drunken, tired mind.

“Hmmm.” You buried your face in the pillow, whispering wearily, “I want to kiss you. But I’m so drunk.”

Oh, he realised, breathless. So, that wasn’t all that you could manage to tell him tonight, after all.

Inhaling sharply, he sat down on the edge of your bed because he didn’t trust his legs anymore.

Your intoxication, he thought, should have come with a warning: not suitable for young children and those with faint hearts.

“You—you are,” he said. “You’re really drunk.”

“Tomorrow,” you promised.

Jungkook realised that merely sitting might not be enough to prevent his head from floating away from his body as he gripped your mattress tighter.

“Oh,” he said.

A hint of concern flickered in your drunken mind, and you lifted your heavy head. “Okay?”

“Ye—okay. Of course,” he said, rising to his feet so you wouldn’t strain to look at him. The room seemed to sway, and he wondered if your intoxication was contagious. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

His next actions were reflexive as he leaned down to press a soft kiss on your forehead before drawing the duvet up to your chest. You hummed in content and Jungkook had to turn away, frightened by his own elated expression in the reflection of your hotel room window.

Over the years, you had been the one taking care of him—almost all the time. He couldn’t even remember a lot of the times when you found him, completely wasted, and helped him get back to his hotel room. Or to the bedroom in his family’s house. But even though the details of those nights were blurred in his memory, he remembered every morning – when he woke up tucked in his bed, and the faint scent of your apple shampoo still lingered in his room.

He wondered, as he paused in the doorway, turning to look at you over his shoulder, if you’d remember much from this night.

For a minute, he watched the gentle rhythm of your chest rising and falling as you drifted into sleep, and he was alive with the realisation that the two of you finally had something that he thought you’d lost forever.

You had tomorrow.

chapter title credits: sleep token, “euclid”

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sea-lanterns · 6 months

Text

SCREAM

synopsis: (slasher! AU) your creepy telephone stalker decides to pay you a visit.

featuring: kuki shinobu

rating: 18+ smut (men and minors dni)

warnings: sub! afab fem reader, blood, stalking, mentions of murder(s), kn.ives, home invasion, oral (reader recieving), tongu.e play, c.lit stimulation, slight fin.gering, tongue kissing, manhandling, hair pulling, kitchen counter se.x, may be ooc.

art credits: pumpkin night

“No, I don’t want to go to tonight’s party.”

“Wha—? But you never go…!”

You twirled the spiral cord connected to your telephone out of boredom, rolling your eyes at your friend’s desperate pleas, as she tried to get you to attend tonight’s college party to try and get you out of your shell. You weren’t much of a party girl if you had to be honest, as loud music, drunk people, and obnoxious sex did not sound like a fun time to you no matter how “exciting” your friends may phrase it.

“I don’t want to smell sweat and alcohol while I’m there…” you groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Besides, we have midterms coming up. I have to study or my GPA will drop.”

“Ugh, you’re such a buzzkill!” Your friend huffs over the phone. “Midterms don’t even start until next week, you have all weekend to study!”

You let out a sigh and made a fake “bzzzt” noise with your mouth.

“Oh no, you’re breaking up…” you mumble sarcastically, staring up at the ceiling.

“What? No! You’re just making that sound with your mou—”

“Oh god the connection is really bad. Sorry, I think I have to hang up.”

“You little—”

You slammed the phone back on the receiver before she could get another word in, tiredly making your way over to the couch and face planting right into the cushions due to exhaustion. It had been a long day of classes for you, and since it was only a Friday, you decided it would be best to rest up and maybe watch a movie before studying for your exams.

Grabbing the remote to the TV, you flipped it on and began mindlessly scrolling through channels before a particularly interesting horror movie caught your eye. “Oh…neat.” You sat up on the couch and watched as the hit horror movie film: Nightmare on Elm Street began playing while you settled down to get comfortable.

‘This is already going way better than going to that party…’ you thought to yourself, before deciding to get up and make something to eat while you waited for the intro to be done. You had the whole house to yourself due to your parents being out of town, so every snack and food item in the kitchen was all yours for the taking without any repercussions. A giddy smile was on your face, as you began grabbing bowls from the cupboard to pour some of your favorite chips as a snack, usually unable to do this since you weren’t allowed to snack so late at night.

As you began pouring the chips into the bowl however, the landline rang again and you couldn’t help but let out a sigh of annoyance. Your best friend had a habit of calling you at the most inconvenient times, so you quickly washed up your hands and grabbed the phone a bit snarkily.

“Hello?”

“I can’t believe you’re still not going!”

You groaned when she continued her little game of coercing you to go to the party, slamming the phone back down on the receiver before grabbing your bowl of chips and shoving a handful into your mouth. You had a habit of being unnecessarily sarcastic when people were starting to bother you, and while it did come off as rude, your friend should’ve known better as you’ve made your decline to her offer very, very clear.

Too tired to even get that upset, you set the bowl on the table in front of you before lying down on the couch to sulk. You watched the movie for maybe a few minutes —ten if you wanted to be specific— but ended up slowly dozing off since you were too tired from a long day of classes.

‘Just a short nap…’ you thought to yourself, feeling your eyelids droop before closing them shut. ‘I’ll get back to studying when I wake up…’

The last thing you heard before falling into unconsciousness was a shrill scream coming from the TV, and the light downpour of rain starting to occur outside…

You hoped your friend wouldn’t call you again.

You woke up to the sound of the telephone ringing and groaned before rolling off the couch to glance at the clock. The TV was still playing in the background, but as you looked up to check the time, you realized it was 2 am, about five hours from when the party started.

“Son of a…” the phone rang again and you hissed with irritation before scrambling to grab the phone.

“Are you serious?” You shouted into the line, clearly frustrated with your friend still trying to get you to come. “It is 2 am, why are you still asking me to go? Shouldn’t you be at home by this time?!”

The voice that greeted you over the line was not the voice you were expecting.

Instead, a deep, slightly husky, yet feminine voice chuckles over the other line and sighs. “Uhhh…I’m sorry?” You could hear the smile in her words. “I suppose it is pretty late, I’m sorry if I’ve upset you, sweetie…”

The stranger’s voice sent shivers down your spine. It was so unbelievably sexy, and you found yourself accidentally blushing since you weren’t expecting such an attractive voice to greet you. “Oh…I’m sorry…” you say in a much softer tone. “My friend has been calling me all night, so I expected her when I answered the phone and it’s been driving me a bit crazy.”

“I like crazy.” The stranger responds with a throaty chuckle. “But you don’t sound that crazy to me…”

Your heartbeat began to pick up the more she spoke with you.

“Aha…well, that’s comforting I guess. But uh…I think you have the wrong number, I don’t really know who you are…?”

“No, I think I have the right number…” The stranger hums sweetly. “You sound like a sweet enough gal, care to talk to me for a little while longer?”

Several warning bells were going off in your head, but the sound of such a delightfully sweet and sexy voice kept you on your toes. You knew it was dangerous, you knew it was stupid, yet you couldn’t help but want to hear more, pressing on further to push a small conversation.

“Okay…what do you…wanna talk about?” You ask after some hesitance, unsure on how to approach this.

“You, doll.” The voice answers back, sending tingles down to your core.

“Me?”

“Yes, you. Let’s start with some cheesy lil icebreakers, hm?” The stranger hums gravelly. “What’s your…favorite scary movie? Since it’s near Halloween and all.”

“…Oh.” You thought about it for some time, before coming up with a funny, yet witty answer.

“Uhhh, Matilda.”

“What?” The voice let out the huskiest laugh you’ve ever heard, making you blush as you pictured the woman behind the phone chuckling at your joke. “That’s not a scary movie,” the stranger says once more. “You have to pick an actual horror film.”

“Matilda is a horror movie.” You argued back, a playful laugh coming out of your mouth. “That scene where the principal was chasing them throughout the house gave me anxiety.”

“Heh, fair, fair…” the voice hums with amusement. “No but seriously, what is your actual favorite horror movie, doll?”

“Why do you wanna know?” You tease playfully, coiling the wire of the phone around your finger.

“Well, mostly because…” the sexy voice suddenly grew even lower, dropping an octave until you could barely hear what they said. “I wanna get to know the person I’m looking at.”

Your heart slowly sank when that sentence was uttered over the other line, blood running cold as you quietly processed what the person just said.

“…Wh…What?”

“I must admit, I was a bit sad when I didn’t see you at tonight’s big party…” the voice continued to say, nonchalant to how creepy they were sounding the more they spoke into the phone. “Maybe it’s for the best, however. I wouldn’t want your pretty lil eyes to witness such a bloody and messy massacre…”

Your throat clogged up and you couldn’t help but pull the phone away from your face.

“That…That isn’t funny.” You say with a scowl, your face turning hot with anger as you glared at the phone in front of you. “Haha funny prank. You can hang up now you stupid prankster.”

“Awww, babygirl I’m hurt…” the voice spoke in mock sympathy, “You really think I would play a sick trick on a girl like you? I’m not that heartless…” Their voice toned down to a whisper, the smirk barely covered up in their speech as they groaned. “Though, if I’m not pranking you, that must mean everything is true, hmm?”

Your eyes widened and you realized you have yet to receive a phone call from your friend at the party. You assumed it was still ongoing, but..

“You— You’re such a sicko! Don’t joke about things like that!”

“It’s not a joke, doll,” The voice chuckles back. “I wonder if you were friends with that one blonde girl I killed. About five foot four, wore a sexy devil costume, and screamed like bloody murder when I plunged my knife into her chest.”

The way they laughed as you stood there in shock did not help the fear rising in your throat, as the stranger had just described your friend who kept begging for you to go to the party with her. They got every single detail right, and you were starting to slowly realize that the “sexy stranger” over the phone was actually a slaughtering serial killer in disguise.

“Oh, oh my god…” you covered up your mouth and accidentally dropped the phone, the cord of the line stopping it from falling as it dangled a few inches off the ground like a bungee swing.

“Oooh, you shouldn’t drop telephones, sweet thing…” the stranger spoke again, causing you to panic as they knew what you were doing.

“Leave…me…alone!”

You scrambled to slam the phone back onto the receiver, but a sharp voice suddenly shouted from the other line.

“Don’t you dare hang up!” The woman’s voice erupted, causing you to wince and drop it back from your hands. “Ugh…I’m sorry for yelling. I just wanted to play a game with you, that’s all…”

“What game? What game could you possibly want to play with me?!” You exclaim fearfully, quickly backing up into the counter.

“An easy one.” The voice speaks again, a growl practically escaping their throat, “I want to play hide and seek.”

Your stomach twisted at the mention of hide and seek, hands grasping for a kitchen knife as a makeshift use for a weapon.

“I think you’re familiar with the rules. I hide, and you try to find me…” the stranger hums with delight. “So I’ll give you a hint, sweet girl. I’m inside the house.”

You squealed at those last words and bolted for the back door of the kitchen, fumbling with the door handle to leave before a firm, athletic body suddenly pressed up against your back, pinning you to the door.

“H-Hey!”

You tried swiping the kitchen knife back to stab at your oppressor, but it was no use. A strong hand grips your wrist and you soon find out that your mysterious phone killer was no ordinary killer, as she was very strong.

“That’s enough of that.” The familiar voice purrs into your ear, that seductive, gravelly voice causing you to freeze as she quickly pins your arms above your head and wrestles the knife out of your hand.

“Stop! Let me go!” You screamed and tried squirming out of their grip, but was met with their body pressing further against your behind. The curves of a feminine figure pinning you to the door, while you slowly started to feel the pressure of an oncoming panic attack in your throat.

“Shhh…shhh, no crying…” the mysterious killer hums with delight, a plastic ghost-face mask pressing up against your shoulder and making you wince with fear. “Please…please don’t kill me…” you began trembling under their grasp, too paralyzed with fear to move. “I don’t wanna die…I’m sorry…I just wanted to stay home…”

“Shhhhh…No need for tears…” her voice mumbled huskily, the smell of blood and iron filling your nose as they waved their blood-stained knife near your face. “Unless, you want me to clean them up for you?”

“No…please…” you squeezed your eyes shut, too scared to open them as you prepared your final moments.

“…Awww, okay.” You suddenly feel a slight decrease in pressure as the hand of the killer moves up to remove the mask. “What about now?”

It took several seconds of heavy breathing and whimpers to find the courage, but eventually you timidly opened your eyes before landing on a way too familiar face.

“Sh-Shinobu…?”

“Hey doll.”

She smirked nonchalantly at you and winked. Shinobu was a classmate of yours, your campus crush if you had to be honest. She always sat in the back of lectures, yet whenever you two would accidentally meet eyes, she would always wink and lick her lips seductively, always causing your heart to flutter.

“I…I don’t understand.” You say in a shaky voice, unsure of your conflicting feelings.

“Mmm, well you don’t need to.” Shinobu purrs. “I’m Ghostface. I’m the one you were talking to over the phone.”

“Th-That was you?!” You exclaimed fearfully.

“Mhm…honestly, I was a bit upset you didn’t realize it was me all along,” she chuckles. “I thought you’d recognize my raspy and seductive voice, hmm?”

Despite how much fear you had, you couldn’t help but grow slightly aroused with the way she was whispering into your ear. Even if your crush was revealed to be an insane, masked serial killer, you couldn’t deny the heat pouring through your veins the more she spoke sweet nothings like the regular.

“…I can’t…I can’t believe…” you were so distraught you couldn’t find the words.

“Awe…that’s okay, sweet thing.” Shinobu whispers in a hot and heavy tone.

“Allow me to help you believe.”

She gently presses a small kiss to your earlobe and slides her long tongue out to lick the shell of it. The warm muscle causes you to flinch for a moment, before a pool of arousal starts warming at your lower regions.

‘God…what am I doing?!’ Your mind screamed with instinct, body trembling with fearousal as Shinobu continued to lick and suck your ear before traveling her hands around your body.

“Honestly, I had hoped to see you at the party tonight, but this is much better…” She purrs before catching you by the waist and squeezing a gloved hand over your thigh. “I get to have you all to myself in this giant house of yours…”

She presses another kiss to your cheek and catches the small whimper that leaves your throat.

“Awe, I knew you would be enjoying this…” Shinobu chuckles with delight. “Naughty, naughty girl…”

“Oh, shut up…!” You winced when she suddenly grabbed your waist and spun you around, your face now facing hers as she leans in to press a dominating kiss against your lips.

“Tch, no respect at all.” She growls before sliding her warm tongue into your mouth. She notes the way your legs close as you instinctively grip her shoulders for support, loving the way you latched onto her as she French-kissed you against the door of your kitchen. ‘She could deny it all she wants, but she knows she’s all mine…’

After a few brief moments of kissing, Shinobu lets you breathe for a moment before wrapping her arms around your waist.

“C’mon, it’ll be easier on the kitchen counter.”

“Wh-Wha— AH!”

Despite how small and thin she looked, Shinobu hoisted you up with ease and you had no choice but to wrap your legs around her. For such a petite woman, she was very strong, and she lifted you up on the counter to get you at the preferred height she wanted.

“There we go…” She licked her lips at the sight and you felt another pulse of heat dive down at your core. “Any objections before we continue?”

That voice. That damned sexy voice. You were practically wet just hearing her voice in person, growing aroused ever since she was flirting with you over the phone. You wanted to curse yourself for getting so turned on, but at this point you just wanted to be fucked.

Even if it meant getting eaten out by a ghost-face wearing serial killer.

“Just…hurry up…” you groaned, already angry with yourself for getting so worked up.

“Tch, is that how you ask for things, princess?” Shinobu scoffs with fake annoyance. “I thought you knew better…”

With that, she suddenly yanks your pajama pants off and the action has you squealing with surprise. Your legs are immediately exposed to the cold, open air, and Shinobu makes it a quick move to push your thighs apart with her hands. “Ugh…fuck…” you hear her grumble under her breath, her cheeks growing red as she stares at your underwear in such a perfect view. “Cotton? Interesting, I thought you’d be a lace kinda girl.”

“I was staying at home.” You gritted through your teeth. “Who wears fancy lace panties when staying home alone?”

“Fair point.” Shinobu chuckles, giving you another kiss before moving her fingers down into the band of your underwear. Feeling two calloused fingers rubbing at your clit was not what you’d be expecting spending a Friday night all alone, yet you can’t say you didn’t enjoy it as Shinobu was a master at rubbing her fingers around your folds till they were soaking wet with precum.

“O-Oh…god…” you whimpered out breathlessly, Shinobu pressing you further into the counter as she began pistoning her fingers at a steady pace to get you ready. “You always seemed to like staring at my tongue,” She purred in a gravelly tone, “I don’t blame ya, it’s pretty long if I do say so myself…”

As if to make a point, she playfully sticks out her tongue and your face just flushes at the sight. It looked so inhumanly long, yet your body couldn’t help but crave for it to be deep inside you, tasting you like you were its last meal ready to be devoured.

You knew you weren’t the only one thinking this either. Shinobu was thinking of all the ways she could taste you, stuffing her tongue as deep as it would go and savoring the sweet essence that drips down your thigh with each sharp piston of her fingers. She was practically drooling, eyes locked on the feeling of how wet you were before finally pulling her hands away to taste.

“Mm…seems wet enough already…”

She sticks the two fingers into her mouth to suck and instantly groans at the sensation. Her long tongue slowly licked up the juices coating her fingers, before letting go with a wet ‘pop!’ Having throughout enjoyed herself with the tiny sample you offered her.

“Absolutely sensational…” she mumbles into your ear. “Allow me to have the full course?”

She doesn’t wait for you to respond before taking the sharp end of her knife and slicing your panties off in one, professional swipe. “H-Hah!” You flinched when she did it so quickly and started breathing heavily out of shock, mildly amusing Shinobu with your reaction.

“Pfft. Relax, sweetheart.” Shinobu purrs with nonchalance. “I’m a professional, you trust professionals, right?”

She peels off the remaining tatters of your underwear and smirks at the sight of your bare, exposed pussy glimmering under your kitchen light. Shinobu could hardly contain herself as she instantly crouched down on her knees to kiss your clit, sending jolts of nerves to your stomach, and making you squirm with delight.

“Ohh, the princess likes that, doesn’t she?” She chuckles in a mocking way, using her two front teeth to gently nibble on the clit and force a burst of ecstasy from the way she was teasing you.

“Ah—! Shinobu…” your hands reached down to tug at her green hair.

“Ah ah ah…” she gives a slow, sensual lick up your folds and you wince when you feel the tip of her tongue flick at your clit. “No hair pulling, sweet girl…”

She continues running her tongue up and down your cunt before slowly pushing the tip of it deeper into your twitching hole. You let out a gasp as she began eating you out excitedly, sliding her long, lithe tongue in and out of you before beginning to thrust lightly with the muscle.

You didn’t expect her to be so good. Shinobu’s tongue play unlike any other girl you’ve been with as her tongue was just so fucking long. Long, flexible, and hot as it pumps against your walls like a starved man finally drinking some water for the very first time.

‘Fucking hell…she tastes so good…’ Was all Shinobu could think as she slowly became pussy drunk off the taste of you alone. Too busy thinking about how many times she could get you to cum on her face, before you passed out out of exhaustion.

“Shinobu I can’t— nngh…” you wrapped your legs around her head and pushed her even closer, trembling from the stimulation as the rough texture of her tongue continued to thrust into your walls. Things were starting to take it up a notch, as Shinobu suddenly gripped your thighs tightly before speeding up her movements to feel even more.

The moans you let out were music to her ears, eyes squeezed shut as she continued sliding the warm muscle at a speed you didn’t even think was possible. (It was, Shinobu was just really, really good) The increase in pressure had you whimpering the more she thrusted, and pretty soon, you were starting to feel a coiling sensation occur the faster she moved her tongue.

“Hnnn…Shinobu…” you whimpered out pathetically, thighs twitching for your release as you gripped her hair even tighter. “You should pull away, it feels too t-tight…”

“Mm? That’s perfect then…” she groaned in an almost predatory way. “Just go ahead and scream for me…!

And scream you did, as you threw your head back and climaxed all over Shinobu’s face who licked up all the cum that leaked out. You were too much of a panting mess to notice the way she cleaned your thighs and cunt with her tongue, but the sensitivity of being “cleaned up” after such an intense round had your vision clouding over with adrenaline crash and exhaustion.

“Oh…my princess tastes so good…” Shinobu groans, standing up to kiss you so that you could taste your cum on her lips. “Exhausted already? Well, I suppose it is pretty late…”

She chuckles darkly at the way your eyes droop over like a sleepy puppy, gently scooping you up into your arms to carry you up to your bedroom.

“Bedtime for my baby…” She hums in that raspy voice of hers, climbing up the steps before kissing the temple of your forehead.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to make you scream louder once you wake up.”

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