#one of her ‘friends’ is in love with her and after kissing her without consent goes on this aphobic tirade and becomes like a comical vilai | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wandasaura · 2 months

Text

MY FACE IN A RED FLUSH

summary — your first mistake was thinking natasha wouldn’t use the time away to tease you, your second mistake was thinking you could handle it

warning(s) — established relationship, married wandanat, smut, sexting, phone sex, teasing, fingering, nipple stimulation, degradation, praise, daddy kink, dom/sub relationship, bathroom encounter (nothing like… bad bad), begging, threats of punishment, wanda slaps r’s ass ;), the idiots banter but what’s new

authors note — i got carried away with this but hey, we got some development between wanda and r going on at least, also some insight to wandanats relationship and their dynamic + how the contract came about

you are in love universe

♥️⊹ ˚ . 18+, men/minors dni ⁺ 𓈒 ꒰💌꒱ ♡ ･ mommy maximoff ✧

Natasha was going to be gone on business for two full weeks. You’d expected the hardest part of that fact to be how you were sure to miss her, but you were severely mistaken. When day ten came around, and she still wasn’t home, you weren’t at all surprised to find that the several notifications waiting for your attention were all from her. She’d been doing her best to keep you informed in regards to her plans and meetings, and for the most part, she’d been behaving herself well, but the first glance at her messages had effortlessly set your mood for the remainder of the day.

Natasha | Daddy misses you, angel.

Natasha | I bet that sweet pussy misses me too.

Natasha | image attached

You couldn’t help but audibly groan when you opened your iMessages. It was instinctual, you never wanted to leave her messages unanswered, but you regretted your urgency to appease her the second you came face to face with her visibly damp panties and toned thighs that had acquired quite the tan since shipping off to the tropical island just over a week and a bit ago. The deep red material that you were all too familiar with was an even deeper shade of maroon now, so damp that it molded to the shape of her labia, and the bulge of her clitoris was captivating. A throb shot through your own core as you fantasized about taking care of her little situation with your mouth, tonguing at her panties until she got so annoyed with your teasing that she tore them in two and forced your head in close, but she was a thousand miles away, and you were under strict instructions not to touch yourself without her permission.

For a second, you questioned if Wanda had received the same image. If she had, which you were absolutely certain she did, you knew that the lawyer was rightfully hot and bothered, but you doubted she had the same rules as you. Wanda did not seem the type to submit, even if it meant appeasing her wife. After all, there would be no need for you in their relationship if she allowed Natasha to take the reins every once in a while, and you found yourself envious of the woman who could relieve herself at any chance.

You whined at the deep ache in your core, your panties positively ruined beyond a point of salvation when another image rolled through, though this time, she’d taken away your privilege of seeing her well defined lips and clit, however, she’d replaced what you’d lost with the sight of her hand buried in the material. It was her left hand, and the diamond on the center of her engagement ring pressed against the tight materials of her panties. You’d always found it exceptionally hot to be fucking a married woman with consent from her partner, but something about seeing her touch herself with the very hand that Wanda had kissed with adoration in front of all of their family and friends was truly vulgar. She wasn’t playing fair at all, but you suspected she had never intended to make this easy for you.

You | Daddy

It was a simple response, one that in no way encapsulated the millions of scenarios running through your head, but you had no other words to share with her. Not when you’d only just woken up and your sole interest was devouring her. You’d never been particularly good at communication, especially not when it came to sexual circumstances, but god did Natasha love to make you work for it. It shouldn’t have come as any surprise to you that she would pull a stunt like this, but you supposed your naivety was what captivated her so ferociously.

Natasha | Yes, angel? See something you like?

You | You.

You | Daddy, please.

Natasha | Please, what? Don’t you have a class to get to, I wouldn’t want to make you late. Get ready for school, moya lyubov.

Natasha | image attached

She was really playing dirty now. The unspoken promise that you wouldn’t be allowed to touch yourself felt like pure torture, but that had only worsened the blow for when the next picture rolled in seconds later. You’d half expected it to follow the saga of the others; some kind of display in regards to her dripping core and drenched panties. Would she pull them off to the side and bury two or maybe even three fingers into her pleading hole? Or perhaps she would take them off completely and give you an unconstructed glimpse of her cunt. You had been good afterall, Wanda hadn’t relayed any instances of bratty behavior to your knowledge, so she had every reason to reward you. Clearly she was not feeling generous, because the picture you were confronted with at seven o’six in the morning was of her naked chest, and just slightly off-screen you could make out the straps of her favorite lacy red bra. Her nipples were pebbled, undoubtable from the combination of her arousal and the broken thermostat in her suite, and they were a color that attempted to resemble a pinky-mauve. Her manicured fingers pinched at the left bud, but her right remained untouched and begging for the same attention. Her back was arched, leaning into the pain, and while you couldn’t see her shoulders, you could image the tanlines that graced her unblemished skin.

You | You’re not playing fair, Daddy

Natasha | I don’t have to play fair, malyshka. I suggest you start getting ready for class, and I would think twice about trying to touch yourself before I give you permission.

Your lips, already in a pout, had seemed to turn even more downward at her blatant disregard for your sanity. You’d just barely survived nine days without her touch and now, on the tenth, she decided to make that worse by teasing you? Even if she did decide to give you permission, nobody, including you, could make you cum the way she did. It would be foolish to even try and compete with her skills.

You | I can always skip

Natasha | I find out you skipped and you won’t be cumming until summer break

Your heart plummeted faster than a free falling elevator at the implication of spending the next four and a half weeks without an orgasm, especially because you knew that just because she wouldn’t push you over the edge, didn’t mean she wouldn’t tease you and work you up to that point. She would make your life an absolute living hell if you gave her the chance, and that was not a fire you wanted to play with, not now and not ever.

You | I’m going!

Natasha | That’s what I thought. Good girl.

Begrudgingly you pulled yourself out of bed and shuffled over to your duffle bag of clothes in the corner of the room. Ever since the night of the sixth day, when you’d crashed into Wanda’s arms and ratted out your professor, you’d been sleeping at the Maximoff residence. The Sokovian lawyer didn’t seem to be minding your presence, or at least, she hadn’t told you that she minded, but you still tried your best to tiptoe around her. She was always up before you, always in the kitchen when you ventured down the stairs in an outfit that was progressively getting shorter and shorter as the weather warmed. She had breakfast waiting for you most days, and if she didn’t, there was a note on the countertops that said she was already at the office and hadn’t wanted you to eat cold food. She didn’t need to know that on those days, you didn’t have any breakfast at all. On the morning of the eighth, she learned that you hate oatmeal. You’d tried your best to eat it all, or at least an amount that would appease her, but after you gagged for the third time, she pulled the bowl away from your face and scolded you for not saying something the second she put it down in front of you. It was weird. Neither one of you really sought the other out, but when you did cross paths, the atmosphere wasn’t as cold and dark.

It wasn’t as warm as it had been in recent days, so you took full advantage of the wind and the gloomy skies to wiggle your body into a pair of black leggings and one of Natasha’s hoodies that had been left laying around. You adored the start of spring and the mid-summer warmth, but you detested the fact that when those days came, you wouldn’t get to wear the womens clothes as frequently. You supposed you could always steal some of her t-shirts, but there hadn’t been much opportunity to do so yet.

Wanda was in the kitchen that morning, much to your delight. She wasn’t Natasha, you don’t know if she’ll ever mean as much to you as Natasha does, but you liked the simple fact that the house felt lived in when she was around. Her presence served as a distraction from the icky wetness collecting in your panties, and yes, you had changed them only minutes ago, but nothing could stop the floodgates until Natasha allowed you even the slightest fraction of relief.

“Your wife is mean.” You didn’t bother with pleasantries, didn’t even bother to look her in the eye as you walked your way to her fridge and pulled out the pitcher of orange juice. It had become sort of a routine. Wanda made breakfast for the both of you and you got the drinks. You liked having little responsibilities, because even if you knew that you were more than welcome here, you felt the need to earn your keep.

“My wife, huh? Thought she was your Daddy.” Wanda snorted, but the clench in her jaw was enough of an indication that she had received the same messages and wasn’t completely lost on the reason why you were pawning Natasha off so easily. You were annoyed to find that she was handling the teasing better than you. You were absolutely certain that your entire body was as jagged as a sharp rock, and petulantly, you hoped that Natasha stubbed her toe on the way to her next meeting.

“Nope. You can have her. She’s being a tease.” You huffed, bracing your hands on the edge of the counter before you scooted back into a comfortable position against the floating cabinets. Well, as comfortably as possible with the ache between your thighs that you were trying your absolute hardest not to mess with, even though it would be so easy to cross your legs and hope to god that it did something to relieve you. Wanda seemed to appreciate your restraint, because she sent you a soft smile in return and didn’t say anything about you sitting on her counters.

“Oh, I know.” Wanda puffed out a breath of air, the first indication that maybe she wasn’t handling the situation well, just better at hiding her frustration. “Little brat doesn’t know what to do with herself when she’s away for so long.”

You’d never heard Natasha be called anything of the sort, and the admission of her role in the bedroom had brought back your curiosity. Deciding that you couldn’t possibly get in trouble for being curious, you kicked your feet against the cabinets beneath your dangling legs and looked over at Wanda. “Can I ask you a question?”

“If you stop kicking my cabinets.” The lawyer looked at you in exasperation, entirely unimpressed with your fidgeting, though she wasn’t angry. You were thankful for that, because the combination of academic stress and sexual teasing had you restless in all fronts.

“Do you let Natty top you?” You smiled shyly once the words had passed your lips, hoping that it would soften the blow once Wanda processed your question. You weren’t sure if you had a close enough relationship with her to be asking such a thing, but over the last few weeks, you’d really started to wonder how they’d even come to the consensus of opening their relationship to a third party.

Wanda looked at you incredulously, but she shook her head anyway. “No. Why the question? You’re usually running in the opposite direction anytime we ask you something sexual.”

As if your body was trying to prove a point, your cheeks flushed scarlet and you dropped your gaze down to your lap, eliciting a chuckle out of Wanda. “I dunno. You don’t seem the type to submit, and Natty is being a brat. Guess I was just wondering about the contract. How you came up with it and all.”

“Have you talked to Nat about this? Seems you’ve got a lot on your mind.” Wanda hummed, her attention focused on the eggs she was scrambling, though you knew the real reason she was so focused was because she didn’t want to overwhelm you when you had finally gotten the courage to speak to her about this type of thing. She wasn’t wrong. Any other time she’d ever mentioned your sexual relationship with her wife you ran in the other direction, or you retorted with something rude just to get her off your back. She wasn’t as blind to that last detail as you thought she was.

“Not a lot.” You protested immediately, not wanting it to come across like you were rethinking this situation. “Her ring was… very visible in the second picture she sent. You’re married. Very happily from what I’ve seen. If anyone else that I know were in this situation, they’d think I was a homewrecker or something.”

“Is that how you feel?” Wanda frowned, her attention still on the eggs she was scrambling, but she was quickly running out of alternatives to focus on as they reached they perfect consistency.

“No! Nat’s too in love with you to ever do something that would upset you. If you weren’t okay with her… using me… then she would’ve ended things already.”

“Honey, we both know Natasha is not using you. That woman is just as devoted to you as she is to me, but you’re right, she wouldn’t jeopardize our marriage. The contract was my idea. You were my idea. Natasha would be more than happy to submit to me for the rest of our lives if I wasn’t okay with this, but I know that she needs the control as much as I do. We make sacrifices for our partners every day. A marriage is not a one way street.” Wanda smiled softly, nudging your thigh when she realized you were sitting right in front of the cabinet she kept the plates on.

“Why are you okay with me then?” You frowned, having even more questions now then you originally did. Wanda had said that Natasha was devoted to you in the same way she is with Wanda. Does that mean she feels the same as you do? Are your feelings not as unrequited as you’d been forcing yourself to believe?

“You make her happy.” There was something more on the tip of her tongue, something heavy and potentially earth-shattering, but you didn’t press her to share. She was already sharing more than enough with you, and you appreciated her honesty even if it was filtered. “Anymore questions from the peanut gallery, or can we eat our breakfast before you’re late to class?”

“No more questions.” You hopped off the counter, grinning cheekily when you saw Wanda wince out of your peripheral vision. “Would you tell her if I skipped class?”

“Are you sick?” Wanda quirked a single eyebrow in your direction, her hands full of plates as she carried eggs and pancakes toward the dining room table. You grabbed the pitcher of juice and two glasses, following her like a lost duckling despite knowing your way around.

“Does horny count as sick?” You asked, only receiving a huff of laughter and a firm shake of the head as a response.

If you thought your morning had been difficult to handle, your afternoon was even worse. You shifted uncomfortably at your desk, trying to get your cold and sticky panties away from your sensitive core, while simultaneously listening to your professor drone on and on about sentence translations and truth tables. Everytime you moved, you achieved the exact opposite of what you wanted. Your panties were so wet they clung to your pussy, and with each shift of hips and press of your thighs, a pulse of pleasure shot up through your belly and only worsened your situation.

Typically, you sat in the very front row in all of your lectures. You were what others would call a teacher's pet, always raising your hand and answering questions, always assuring that you understood the objectives of an assignment, but today, you had chosen a desk in the back row closest to the wall. Your laptop was turned away from the student on your right, and although your notes were opened, and words had been added to the document that you’d started at the beginning of the semester, your iMessages were open just beside it.

Natasha | Daddy wants your mouth, princess. You’d be good and give me your mouth wouldn’t you? I know how much you love to be on your knees for me

Natasha | video attached

You knew you shouldn’t open it, not when it was so clearly a video of her masturbating if the preview shot was any indication of its content. You knew you should just turn all of your devices on Do Not Disturb and focus on the professor, who was going over questions about the latest chapter assigned as homework, but all logical thoughts, ironic because you were currently in your advanced logics lecture, had completely fallen away from you. It had been eleven hours of teasing. Eleven hours of wet panties and sensitive nipples and Natasha’s pussy in your face but not actually. It had been eleven full hours of pure torture, and you were at your breaking point.

You closed your laptop softly, making the humbling decision to shuffle past all the other students in your row to excuse yourself to the bathroom. You’re sure it looked like you were having some kind of female emergency with how fast you were moving, but in a way, you were. Only, it wasn’t a result of a miscalculated period, but rather an evil dominant who had worked you up so horridly that you were willing to sacrifice your academics just to beg her for release.

The private bathroom was located in the basement, you had to shuffle down three flights of stairs just to reach it, but you would die before you got caught sexting in the bathroom on the same floor as your lecture, so you hurried down to the basement and hoped that it was free. At least some higher power was looking out for you, because you found that the light was off and when you knocked on the door, nobody had answered. You squirmed your way inside, locking the door before you pulled open your messages and played the video.

It was short, only ten seconds, but in that ten seconds you had seen the beginning of a beautiful orgasm. Natasha’s fingers hammered into her pussy, the palm of her hand making contact with her clit every time she pushed three of her fingers back into herself. Her arousal coated the digits in thick strings, and when she’d cum, when she pushed herself over the edge, you groaned aloud at not only the moan that tumbled past her lips, but the sight of her orgasm spilling around her fingers. You had seen Natasha squirt on a handful of occasions. Usually it happened when she had you eating her out time and time again. You wondered how long she’d been laid in bed for to have reached such a high, and briefly you wondered if Wanda had anything to do with it. There was not a doubt in your mind that Wanda was just as much a tease as Natasha, and the prospect of the most powerful women you know going back and forth so desperately caused another violent pang of pleasure to shoot through your core.

You pushed your pants down, letting them scrunch together at your ankles, not caring about how they brushed against the bathroom floor. You were too desperate to mind the germs, but they would be going in the garbage the second you got back to the Maximoff residence. For now, they’d just have to be fine.

You widened your stance just enough to get your camera between your thighs. The baby blue panties that you wore were absolutely drenched, beyond the state of Natasha’s if that were even possible. Every inch of your intimacy was a visible outline from how they pressed against you, and while you should’ve been embarrassed, you hadn’t even been touched and you were the wettest you’ve probably ever been, you didn’t care.

You | image attached

You | Look what you did, Daddy.

Natasha | Oh, I bet that feels so icky, baby

You | Please let me touch myself

Natasha | My dirty little slut wants to touch herself in a public bathroom? She can’t even wait until she gets home?

You | I’ve been waiting all day! Please Daddy, it aches!

You | image attached

You should’ve felt shame. You should’ve been disgusted with your desperation, but there wasn’t even an ounce of care left in you as you pulled your panties to the side. Two of your fingers swept through your folds, collecting arousal on the tips of your fingers. They glistened in the light, and much like Natasha’s arousal had done in the video she sent, strings of your need attached your dripping cunt to your digits. You hadn’t touched yourself, not technically at least. Your clit throbbed in protest when you narrowly avoided it, and it took all of your self restraint not to throw caution to the wind and give yourself the slightest bit of relief. You would much rather appease Natasha though, and so you hadn’t even made the briefest moment of contact.

Natasha | Oh that does look like quite the sticky situation, baby. Why don’t you be a good girl for Daddy and suck those fingers clean

You moaned at her words, even if they were just white letters on your phone screen. You could practically hear her voice in your head, requesting you to taste yourself for her, asking you to be good. You complied without hesitance, bringing your fingers up to your mouth, your tongue out and waiting for the treat even if you would much rather it be her you're tasting. Before you let them lay heavy on your tongue, you took a picture and sent it to her, because if you were going to be vulgar in your college bathroom, it needed to be for something. You tasted how you always do, but you forced yourself to imagine it was her lips you were tasting and not your own fingers. She loved making out after she had gone down on you, and secretly, so did you.

Natasha | Good girl.

Natasha | Those fingers all nice and clean?

You | Yes, Daddy

Natasha | Good. Pull your panties back up and wash your hands, baby. You’ve still got thirty minutes left of class.

Your jaw practically hit the floor at her response, and you whined in defeat, not wanting to listen to her. You’d been so good for her all day and she was still making you wait? What could she possibly do from across the ocean anyways? Briefly, you’d forgotten about her promise of withholding orgasms until summer break, but when that threat came back to mind, you quickly did as asked, hating that now you were even more uncomfortable. This was supposed to help, not make everything worse.

You | I want to play, Daddy!

Natasha | You’ve been good all day baby, don’t ruin it now. Panties up, hands washed. I want you back in class in the next three minutes if I’m even going to consider letting you edge yourself tonight

Natasha | Or maybe you would like a ruined orgasm more

You | No! Please no Daddy!

Natasha | Then you’ll go back to class and you won’t sneak away again.

The forty minute drive back to Westview felt like hours. By the time that you eventually pulled into the driveway and parked behind Natasha’s car, the days sunlight only lingering behind storm clouds now, your leggings were damp and clinging to your core just as uncomfortably as your panties had been for the last few hours. You were absolutely certain that if there weren’t two material barriers between your legs, that your car seats would be stained with evidence of your arousal. You’d have had a hard time explaining that the next time you got the vehicle detailed, but if that had been the case, you would’ve just burnt the entire car to avoid the looks of judgment you were sure to have received.

The front door was unlocked when you entered, an indication that Wanda had only arrived home a couple minutes before you had. Ever since your appearance on the fifth day of Natasha’s absence, she’d started leaving the door unlocked for you, not wanting another repeat of you stuck outside. You knew it made her feel vulnerable, and at one point you had tried to tell that while you appreciated the thought, she could continue to lock the door after she got in. Wanda didn’t budge on the matter, not that you were surprised, and so you just had to accept the fact that the front door would remain open for anyone to pass through until you got inside to lock the house up tight. It amazed you how Natasha’s presence could mean so much. The woman could hold her own in a fight, you didn’t doubt that, but you hadn’t realized just how much Wanda put her safety into her hands. It only further solidified the already known fact that they were perfect for each other.

Wanda was in the kitchen, already working on dinner, when you dropped your backpack on the floor and inched your way closer to her. The desperate ache between your legs was unbearable now, and every step reminded you of your unfulfilled desire. Wanda looked perfectly put together as she stood by the stove, stirring something in a pot that you hoped was sauce for her spaghetti. Even though you couldn’t see her face from where she was standing, it was clear in her posture that she was fairing well with Natasha’s teasing. You wondered if she had taken her pleasure into her own hands at some point during the day, or if she was once again just better than you at concealing her true feelings.

“I take it back.” You muttered weakly, stealing the glass of water that the redhead had been just about to reach for. It was cold, probably fresh from the filter in the fridge, and you gulped it down greedily. “Your wife is the scary one.”

Wanda laughed although you found nothing funny about this situation. “What did she threaten you with?”

“Which time!” You threw your hands out in exasperation, careful to keep hold of the now empty glass so it didn’t smash into a million tiny shards on the floor if you were to lose your grip on it. “Because at first it was no orgasms until summer break! Then it was edging! And then it was ruined orgasms! I did exactly what she asked, and she’s still being all scary and mean! She sent me a video of her cumming while I was in class!”

“Did she now?” Wanda quirked a single brow in your direction, and you knew that you had gotten your dominant in trouble simply from the way her jaw clenched at the relay of information. In the months that you’ve been in this situation with Natasha, you learned that Wanda was serious about education, a real stickler even. She always droned on and on about the importance of paying attention and taking adequate notes, you should’ve known that she wouldn’t appreciate knowing her wife had distracted you with a video of her pleasure.

“Um, no?” You tried to backtrack, tried to save Natasha’s ass even though she had done nothing in your favor since you’d woken up that morning. Your cheeks flushed as you avoided her eye, suddenly finding the floor much more interesting than her stare.

“Wanna try that again?” Wanda hummed, but you knew it wasn’t really a choice. You’re pretty sure that you audibly gulped as you contemplated your options, ultimately deciding that if anybody's ass had to be on the line, you would rather it be Natashas.

“She did.” You whispered. “But she made me go back to class! That’s when she threatened to make me edge myself or ruin my orgasm.” You added, your cheeks burning a fierce shade of red as you avoided Wanda’s eye. Both women found it cute how flushed you still got whenever anything even remotely kinky was discussed. Despite her annoyance, this moment was no exception.

Wanda hummed thoughtfully, nodding her head as if Natasha’s threat satisfied her. “Good. You shouldn’t have left class at all. I’d be making you spank yourself.”

“I– Do you– Do you make Natasha spank herself?” You spluttered over your words, hardly even able to imagine the redhead on the receiving end of a spanking.

“No. Your Daddy enjoys that far too much.” Wanda laughed, almost as if she found your curiosity insulting to Natasha. You knew she had a pain kink, that was very much obvious when she asked you to pinch her nipples harder on the rare occasion that she made you ride her strap, but you couldn’t imagine enjoying a spanking that was intended to be a punishment. “You on the other hand, start running away from her hand by the fifth spank. You wouldn’t last three if I told you to do it yourself.”

Despite your mortification at Wanda’s admission, a pang of arousal shot through your core at the thought of receiving a spanking, especially from her. You were quick to scrub that fantasy from your brain, not even wanting to entertain it. Even if you had moved past your hatred for her, you refused to admit that she was slowly growing on you. That was just too much to accept right now.

“Stop!” You whined, hunching over the counter and attempting to hide your face against the cold counter. Your cheeks had had a permanent flush to them all day, no thanks to Natasha, but you were certain that they were fire engine red now. Even the tips of your ears carried a warmth that wouldn’t vanish until you found some relief, but Natasha had been radio silent since sending you back to class, and you almost wondered if she would even reappear again before she turned in for the night. You would kill her if she left you high and dry like this.

A shriek of surprise left your lips at the sharp sensation that spread through your left ass cheek when Wanda’s palm collided with it over the thin fabric of your leggings. You’d only barely managed to contain your moan, but there’s no way she’d missed the way your knees threatened to buckle beneath you. Your back straightened instinctively and your head whipped around to find her, only to groan at the smirk of satisfaction on her lips at the sight of you. Your bottom lip was caught between your teeth, your eyes were dilated and almost entirely black, and your thighs, oh your thighs were the most telling. You pinched them together desperately, attempting to find any semblance of release.

“What was that for?” You whined, your hand shooting back to rub at the spot that was beginning to ache. You wouldn’t be surprised if her handprint lingered on your skin well into the early hours of tomorrow morning. Your voice is painfully high pitched and needy despite your best efforts to keep your composure, and it merely makes Wanda laugh about the effect a simple spank has on you.

“Who said I needed a reason?” Wanda shrugged her shoulders, but there was something wicked in her eyes. “You’ve had plenty of questions for me today, who says I don’t have my own?”

“You could’ve just asked!” You stomped your foot, officially at your breaking point with their combined teasing. Your eyes glimmered with unbridled tears, and your core throbbed needily, but neither of them seemed too concerned with your desperation, not enough to stop at least. “I’m going to change.” You pouted, stomping past Wanda, abandoning your backpack to be dealt with later.

Hours later, you found yourself laid in bed, your eyes wide in disbelief as you laid on your back and tried your hardest to keep your hands still at your sides. You and Wanda had eaten dinner in near silence, but the spaghetti was good, and you’d helped with the dishes afterward. Neither of you were feeling rather talkative, and that could be chalked up with the fact that Natasha had started her shit again. She poked at Wanda first, and you were thankful for the break of being her center of attention. The lawyer's phone had buzzed from where it was kept in her backpocket during meals if she was wearing jeans. Both of you knew who it was, and Wanda had reached for her phone without a moment of hesitation. It seemed that the both of you were properly whipped for the Russian, because had that text been from anyone else Wanda would’ve ignored it until dinner was over and conversations were finished. It had taken her only a matter of seconds to get into her phone, and you knew it must’ve been sexual based on the way her cheeks flushed and she furiously typed back a response. You were curious about what Natasha had sent her, curious about if you were receiving the same messages throughout the day, but you didn’t have to wait for much longer because your phone pinged next, and Wanda shot you a low warning beneath her breath.

That had been two hours ago, and since then, Natasha had disappeared, leaving you with only strict orders not to touch yourself and the lingering promise of getting your reward soon. You were naked in the guest bed, dripping onto the sheets beneath your body, writhing in anticipation. The house had been silent since both you and Wanda finished dinner, but now the house was filled with her moans. Her moans. Wanda's moans. You’ve seen her and Natasha makeout before. You’ve heard her shakily exhale, groan aloud, you’ve even heard her curse out profanities in Russian when Natasha did something particularly seductive, but you’ve never heard her moan. That felt too intimate, too wrong, but now that you were hearing them you couldn’t deny how sweet they sounded. Was she fingering herself? Was she using a vibrator or fucking a dildo so deep into her pussy that she could feel every groove and crevice against her walls? Were the sheets wet with arousal beneath her body like they were yours, or could she somehow manage to avoid leaking like a waterfall at just a whisper of praise from Natasha? The list of endless possibilities that could be occurring in the room next to yours were driving you mad, and the longer you were forced to listen to her chase her release, only amplified the cravings for your own pleasure.

You blindly reached out for your phone, squinting when it initially blinded you before your eyes adjusted to the light. You opened Natasha’s contact quickly,ready to plead and beg and cry for her to give in.

You | I can hear Wanda

You | Please Daddy, can I touch myself? I’ve been so good, please

Natasha | Aw, is hearing Wanda moan turning you on, princess?

You | Yes! Please Daddy! I want to cum, please!

You almost sobbed in relief when your screen flashed with Natasha’s contact picture, and you didn’t hesitate to raise the phone to your ear after you had swiped to accept the call. Her gravely voice was soft, too soft, soft enough to suggest that she knew damn well how frustrated and desperate you were for her, and that she was simultaneously aware of how it was all her fault. You thought for a second that she felt bad for being so cruel, but there was a lingering trace of smugness in her voice that completely went against your first assumption.

“Hi, baby.” She greeted you sweetly. You noticed that the wind was blowing past her as she spoke to you. You wondered if she was on the beach, surrounded by strangers and business partners, or if she was simply out on the balcony attached to her suite. Wherever she was, you wished that you were with her.

“Daddy!” You sobbed, both because you had missed her voice in the last three days, and because knowing you finally had her undivided attention had worsened the moisture collecting between your legs. “Please Daddy!”

“What do you want, baby? Use your words for Daddy.” Natasha cooed, and you fisted the sheets at your sides in frustration, writhing on the bed.

The words tumbled past your lips without care for how you sounded. You knew Wanda could hear you from the master bedroom, but you had not a single care for your dignity as you pleaded with your dominant to let you cum. “Please! Please can I touch myself! Please!”

“You wanna touch yourself, dorogay?” Natasha hummed, and although she couldn’t see you, you violently nodded your head in affirmation. Your babbled pleads were enough of an answer, because seconds later she was directing you to pinch your nipples for her. Despite not being the stimulation you desperately needed, you would take it, and you rolled your pebbled buds between your pointer finger and thumb needily. “Good girl, milaya. You sound so pretty for Daddy. I bet that sweet pussy is just begging for attention, isn’t it? Are you all wet, precious?”

“Yes! Yes! Daddy please! I’m so wet! I can’t– I need– Daddy please don’t tease! Don’t tease!” You sobbed out, your back arching off the bed as you continued to alternate between your nipples and pinch and twist them at the pace you know Natasha would’ve set if she was here to do it herself.

“Shh, shh, you’re okay. Daddy teased you all day, didn’t she?” Natasha’s voice was thick with faux pity, and her tone only worked against you as you clambered to draw in a decent breath of air whilst also focusing on her instructions.

“Yes! Yes! Please! Please! Daddy, I can’t–, I can’t–, please!”

“Okay baby, okay. You’re being such a good girl for me, detka. Touch your pussy baby. Not your clit, not yet. Just use your fingers, how many do you want, sweet girl? Do you want two? Two fingers in that pretty pussy?” Natasha gently guided you through the motions, and you cried out in relief when you felt the stretch of your fingers. Your pussy was gushing, crying for attention, but finally you were allowed to grant the wish it had been begging for all day. There was no slowing your pace. The second your fingers had dipped between your thighs, your pace was punishing, and though you still held the phone up to your ear with the hand that wasn’t between your legs, you were sure Natasha could hear the wet sounds that filled the air around you. “Does that feel good, baby? Use your words and tell Daddy how it feels.”

“G-Good.” You cried out, but even with your fingers working the soft spot within your walls, it wasn’t enough. Your release was just out of reach and the only thing that could send you over the edge was her explicit permission to touch your clit, to finally give the pulsating nerve some love and attention. “D-Daddy please! My clit! M-My clit! Please please please!” Your mindless babbling seemed to have broken her tough reserve, and gently Natasha cooed her approval.

“Touch your clit for me, baby. You don’t have to ask, you just cum when you want to. You were such a good girl today. Daddy didn’t think you could make it all day, you made me so proud, angel. So so proud. Make yourself cum, cum on your fingers for Daddy.” Natasha didn’t need to see your face to know that you were growing closer and closer to the edge, she could hear it in your moans as they spilled from your lips and down the phone line. “Yeah? You’re getting so close aren’t you, getting so close for Daddy. Cum for me, milaya. Cum for Daddy.”

“Fuck fuck fuck! Daddy!” You cried, your back arching off the bed as you finally let the coil snap in your belly. Wanda’s moans of pleasure had increased within the same second, and your cheeks flushed realizing that Natasha’s plan all along had been to get the two of you to orgasm in tandem. “Thank you.” You croaked when you finally came down from you high, your body positively spent and your throat sore.

“You did so good for me, malyshka.” You can hear the smile in her tone, and you melt into the blankets and sheets beneath you as you accept the weight of her words. “You sleepy, baby? You’ve had a long day.”

“Yeah.” You whispered, hating the fact that you wouldn’t last another handful of minutes before you fell asleep on her. “Go get cleaned up, please. Daddy will be home soon, I can’t wait to see my good girl.”

“I miss you.” You sighed softly, already starting to pull your body out of bed. You didn’t want to move, but you’d been so good all day, you wanted to make her proud down to the very last second.

“I miss you too, angel. Wanda’s told me how good you’re being. Daddy has a surprise for you when she gets home.” Natasha promises, and had you been any more awake then you are now, you would’ve begged her to know what she had, but you merely hummed and went through the motions of brushing your teeth, going to the bathroom, and cleaning up your thighs.

The sheets were the least of your concern, and you collapsed into the center of the bed, not even bothering with clothes as you snuggled into the blankets and let your eyes flutter closed, falling asleep in seconds with Natasha still on the line.

#wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #dom!natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff fluff #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #dom!wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff fluff #wandanat #wandanat x reader #dom!wandanat x reader #wandanat smut #wandanat fluff #series: you are in love #minors dni ৎ୭

813 notes · View notes

romanarose · 4 months

Text

Yes, Uncle Tommy?

DBF!Joel Miller x fem!reader

DBF!Tommy Miller x fem!reader

Join my taglist : Masterlist

Summary: Something something, Santa's not the only one coming?

Your dads friend's kid brother, Tommy, fucks you while Joel watches... but Joel cant keep his hands to himself

Warnings and Content: Big, girthy age gap, degrading, rough sex, cucking Joel, objectification (calling her a toy, a sex doll etc). Tommy is playfully teasing you but it's in jest. Jerking off, cream pie and cum in face, make up smearing, ass eating, praise, "daddy" joel, "uncle tommy" threesome between brothers but they are far away from each other, but watching. ball sucking, mentions of oral, m and f receiving, slapping, pinning down, nipple play, spitting. EXPLICITE AND LOVING CONSENT! This was a lot so if i missed anything LMK!!!!!

Immersability: Reader is fem, has hair, reader is much younger than Joel and Tommy. Mentions of readers stomach jiggling but i think most (not all i'll conceed!) do when folded and pounded lol. Mentions of a "bruising grip" as a metaphor but not mentions of bruising or coloration.

The requested part two to Yes, Mr. Miller? but you don't gotta read before.

1.7 k Words

**************

"Jesus Christ!" Tommy laughed at you mockingly. "Look at her, struggling so hard to take it!"

Joel knelt behind you, fisting his cock above you as you chocked on his balls. "Be nice, baby's just sensitive." He warned his brother. He liked to watch Tommy's cock disappear into your little cunt.

"Yeah cause your scruffy excuse for a beard was all up in between her legs for hours before you decided to invite me in."

Joel had intended on fucking you raw in your bed again, but when Tommy heard the sounds coming out of your door, he put two and two together. After a brief, whispered deliberation with you, Joel invited him in.

'Be my own, personal porn star.' He had instructed. You knew just what Joel liked to see, and now he had the perfect view. Still, you couldn't help the sounds that drew Tommy in the first place so to keep your mouth occupied, Joel shoved his cock in your mouth. After he decided you were a little overwelmed, he switched to his balls.

"Poor little, baby..." Tommy mused. "Get'n awfully squirmy... wassamatter? Can't take it?" It was mostly playful mockery, but also his way of checking up on you.

All he got was a muffled whine as slobbered on Joel's fat balls.

Joel sat back on his haunches, pulling himself out of you but dragging his heavy balls on your face along the way, making sure to smear your make up as he spat a glob of spit on your before slapping you across the face.

"Uncle Tommy asked you a question, baby. Didn't daddy teach you your manners?"

Choking back a sob as you're stretched to the limit at the core of you, Tommy slows down to allow you to breath without his cock punching the air out of your lungs.

"Y-yes, unclemmmm, uncle Tommy?" You ask in your bestest, goodest girl voice.

"I said," Tommy grabbed your hips and yanked you down till you hit his pelvis, making you gasp. He dropped his body down to kiss your neck and said in a soft voice. "Are you doing alright?"

"Yes, Uncle Tommy, thank you sir." You seal it with a kiss on the lips and a buck of your hips, spurring Tommy on again.

The younger Miller groaned, pulling back and smiling at his brother as his hips snapped into you with fury. Both kept their shirts and a light jacket on incase they needed to clean up quick, and the way you were crying out, Joel wasn't sure you could keep from alerting the whole house when you came.

Joel placed his hands on your shoulders, pinning your wriggling body down. "Hold still, little girl..." Joel chastised, shuttering a bit at the lose of stimulation from his rough hands.

"M'm sorry daddy" You whine, but do little to stop the writhing on the bed.

Soothingly, Joel ran his hands down your still-clothes chest, swiping over your hard nipples and going back to rub your neck, repeating this motion and keeping you pinned down.

"It's okay, sweet girl, it's a lot, isn't it?"

It was, it was so fucking much. Joel was longer, but Tommy's cock was fatter, splitting you open wide. Despite the ache, you we so, so fucking high off pleasure right now, you could scream. Your stomach swooped with every thrust, Tommy hitting you right in your core as Joel massaged you, neglecting his own aching cock.

"Such a good little girl for us Joel, thanks for sharing your little toy." Tommy smacked your thigh, forcing you to bite down on your lip to prevent the yelp. "Hurts so good, but she's taking it anyway. Fuuuck, brother squeeze'n me so tight I think she's about to cum! Pathetic little thing, ain't she."

"Ohhh, she just wants to be good, Tommy! She just wants to be a little fuck doll for her daddy and uncle, bet her whole family can hear her little pussy getting torn apart." As Joel brought his hands down again, he squeezed your tits in a bruising grip, sure to leave a mark, before rolling your perky nipples between his fingers.

"Fuck, daddy!" You cry, making Tommy laugh again.

"I dunno Joel, I reckon you better fill her mouth up again before her real daddy comes in to find her being used like a blow up sex doll."

"I think you're right, brother."

"Always am."

Joel knelt up again, balls dangling above you and you open your mouth eagerly to taste his musk, but Joel surprises you by lowering himself down so his ass was right on your mouth. You could feel his balls on your chin as her jerked himself, muffling your moans and cries and begging with his ass.

"Oh fuuuck yeah, that's it, my dirty little girl"

Tommy chuckles, never relenting on his pace on you, fucking into your waiting body with everything he had. "Fucking nasty. She'll just let you do anything to her, huh?"

"Pretty much. Little girl just wants to make her daddy proud." You and Joel had actually talked about ass eating before and you said you were game, given the proper sanitary measures. Joel never actually did anything you didn't want or anything he hadn't asked about.

Glancing to the side, Joel saw your teddy, the little toy he had you clutching when he fucked you over thanksgiving and god an idea. Taking the toy and gripping at the neck, Joel pressed the button to your clit right above where his brother was defiling your little cunt. "Teddy wants you to come, baby."

He feels your whimpers reverberate between his ass cheeks as you like into him, tongue prodding at his tight hole. You briefly had the thought of slipping a finger up his ass, but remember that had not been discussed yet. You wondered if he'd let you peg him.

Joel looked up at Tommy, his brother's boyish face grinning wildly back at him. Joel had made Tommy start of easy, not going full pace just yet as he wasn't sure you could take that for too long, but now, as things were coming to an end, Joel wanted you absolutely destroyed. He picked your pretty make up smearing all over his ass.

"Go nuts Tommy. Fuck her like a rag doll."

Given full permission, Tommy was unleased. He gripped your hips, lifting them off he bed and he heard a muffled squeal before fucking hard and fast, your skirt falling down and revealing your jiggling belly. He was an absolutely mad man, slapping into you with such fervor Joel was carefully paying attention to your grip on his thighs as you ate him in case you needed to tap out, but your never once faltered on your tongue work. Joel took the moment to jerk his cock furiously, his one personal porn star getting fucking right in front of him, and him having the best seat in the house.

"Fuck, Joel." Tommy calls his attention, voice strained and eyes pinched closed. "She's fuck'n cum'n, cum'n real har- oh fuuuuck... shit! 'm cuming so hard!" With a few more grunts, Tommy spilled into you, filling you up with gushes of his warm seed.

Just then, Joel pulled back off your face just in time to spray the hot white on the red and black mixture of your make up, releasing with a grunt.

"Fuck darl'n, such a sexy little fuck doll for me..." When he was finished, Joel rubbed your teddy on your messy, soiled face. "Good girl.... such a good girl..." He coaxed Tommy to lay down, redressing himself before grabbing your makeup removing wipes and the baby wipes you added to your collection for days like this. He grabbed a few make-up wipes and tossed the baby wipes to Tommy. Joel sat on the bed, pulling your limp body towards him to rest your head on his lap. As Tommy took care gently wiping your aching and puffy pussy, tender in his strokes but thorough, Joel wiped down your soiled face, both whispering words of praise.

"Such a pretty girl"

"Did so well for us, princesca."

"Perfect thing."

Once you (and teddy) were clean, Tommy made his exit with a parting kiss, leaving you and Joel together.

"How do you feel, baby girl?" He asked, smoothing his hand over your face to sooth you.

"Great, Daddy. How do you feel?" You wanted to check in with him too. Fucking you at the same time as his brother may not have been the threesome he initially proposed, but you hoped you weren't dissapointing.

You could feel the smile in his voice. "Absolutely perfect, darling girl. amazing"

You laid there on his lap for a few moments until you heard the bathroom door opening after Tommy and your dads tell tale footsteps up the stairs.

"Heya Tom, where you been hiding?"

"Oh," Nervous laughter as he patted his stomach. "Just, you know, the eggnog. You know how I am with dairy." Tommy is talking too loud, signaling Joel to make his escape.

Joel mutters 'shitshitshit' and quickly put his shoes on, you scrambling to push him into the closet.

"You seen Joel lately? Or my kid? Wanna make sure she ain't drank too much. She gets a little dizzy sometimes with alcohol."

"Uhhh no man, ain't seen 'er. Joel i think went out for a smoke though."

"I'll check in her room."

"OH, uh, you know, she might be sleeping." He was so fucking loud and a bad actor.

You shut the closet door, and scramble back to your bed just in time for your dad to knock gently before carefully opening and calling your name in hushed tone. "High honey, you feeling okay? Disappeared there for a moment."

"Yeah dad, I'm alright. Just feeling a little under the weather is all."

"You have too much to drink?"

"Yeah, that might be it..."

"Ill get you some water, alright? And a bite to eat. make you feel better. Be back in a sec."

"Thank you daddy!"

When the door closed, you tell Joel it's clear and he comes out of the closet.

"Go, he's gonna make me leftovers, now's your chance!" You begin shoving him to your door, just Joel stops, pinching your cheeks with his thumb and forefingers.

"Don't you ever call another man daddy, understood?"

Through your squished cheeks you murmur. "Yes, Mr. Miller." He kisses you on the forehead and makes his exit.

*****************

Special shout out to @pedge-page bc the teddy scene was from their work Plushies Series Masterlist that fried my brain!

Thank you for all your love on yes, mr miller? i hope you like this too!

Im not getting rid of my tag list, but im adding an update blog, @romana-updates ! come follow and/or turn on notifications so you dont miss a thing!

But if being tagged is more your style, comment on the tag list linked above!

@fandxmslxt69 @runa-falls @k-ra @whatthefishh @ahookedheroespureheart @mikaelak @littlenosoul @stevenandmarcslove @pikapuff-316 @del-ightfulling @faretheeoscar @harriedandharassed @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @campingwiththecharmings @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @milly-louise @casa-boiardi @joeldjarin

693 notes · View notes

munson-blurbs · 8 months

Text

Inspired by this TikTok. Thank you to @lesservillain for the idea and to @emsgoodthinkin for brainstorming with me!

Summary: Eddie jumpscares you one too many times, and so you decide to freak him out at work. But who will be more shocked: him, or you?

Warnings: fem!reader, friends-to-lovers, idiots in love, brief description of (fake) gore, joke about throwing up (doesn't actually happen), kissing as a joke (please only kiss w/ consent irl)

WC: 1.3k

It was just a joke.

A joke that had started when Eddie had barged into your house—the man wouldn’t knock if his life depended on it—and proudly announced, “I got the job!”

The job in question was a haunted house performer at Hawkins’ annual Fall Festival. You’d both been going since you were kids, and his favorite part had always been the haunted house.

He’d gotten word about his new job in early September. By mid-October, you’re fully sick and tired of his antics.

“Boo!” he’d yelled as he jumped out from behind the Wheeler’s couch, making you leap out of your seat.

“Raaahhh!” he’d growled in your ear while you were in the midst of a conversation with Robin, and once your heartbeat returned to normal, you flipped him off.

His enthusiastic “Gotcha!” during your history quiz was the final straw. You’d yelped, actually shrieked in the middle of class, clapping a hand over your mouth as Mrs. Click glared at you.

“I’m gonna get you back for that,” you’d hissed once you’d turned in your exam, growing more irritated when he’d just shook his head.

“You can’t scare me,” he retorted with a smirk, leaning up against a locker. “You’ve never been able to freak me out, and you never will. Don’t even try, little girl.”

Challenge accepted.

You spend the rest of the week wracking your brain for ideas. What is Eddie Munson afraid of? What will shock him?

The obvious answer is hiding a prized possession and making him think it was stolen or lost. You grin to yourself as you picture him frantically searching for Sweetheart; maybe you could leave a ransom note of sorts.

But that plan has too many moving pieces, so you scrap it. You’re about to give up entirely when Robin inadvertently gives you an idea.

“You guys coming to Steve’s party tomorrow?” she asks in between bites of her turkey sandwich.

“I’m down,” you eagerly agree, itching to have a night out with friends.

When Robin turns to Eddie, he shakes his head. “Gotta work,” he reminds her, wiggling his fingers to emphasize the spooky nature of his job.

Robin rolls her eyes. “Fine, okay. Stop by after. I promise we won’t make you play spin the bottle again.”

Eddie’s eyes widen, cheeks redden, and he gets up from the lunch table without another word.

Bingo.

The plan is set: on Friday, before Steve’s party, you’ll pay Eddie a visit at the Fall Festival. It’ll be a visit he’ll never forget, you’re sure of that.

Robin stands with you outside the haunted house, picking at a funnel cake with powdered sugar-coated fingers. “I’ll wait out here,” she promises, “but when you’re done, I wanna hear everything. Especially the look on his face.”

“You got it.” You shoot her a thumb’s up as you jog up to the bored-looking attendant taking tickets.

You’re in.

The first room just sets the tone. Eerie organ music pulses through an ancient sound system, and a fog machine creates a steam that prevents you from seeing the floor. Cobwebs hang in the corners of the ceiling, though you’re suspicious that they’re not intentional decorations.

Eddie’s not in the next room, either; just a woman wearing a blood-spattered wedding dress, wielding a knife and clutching a plastic severed head. She’s screaming something about, “teaching him not to cheat with a bridesmaid,” and looks vaguely annoyed that you’re not quaking with terror.

You go through three more rooms, getting increasingly irritating with the lack of Eddie in each one. He’s working tonight, so he has to be here—

Loud, stomping footsteps follow you into the dungeon-themed section of the house, and your heart skips a beat as you lay eyes on him. A distorted mask covers his face, but his unruly curls give him away despite the mad scientist costume he’s donning. He holds up a knife and creeps closer, a low growl emanating from his throat. You run until you no longer can, and he easily traps you, the cold metal gate pressing into your back.

If you’re going to do it, now’s your chance.

In one swift motion, you turn him so he’s backed up into the gate. A soft, confused “wha—?” leaves his lips as you lift his mask and lean in before you lose your nerve. Your lips press against his; hands on his cheeks as he accepts the way you melt into him.

Why isn’t he pulling away? Why isn’t he laughing and appreciating your prank? Why does it seem like he wants this…like he’s BEEN wanting this?

Fuck. Fuck.

This isn’t what you were expecting. He’s kissing you back, surprised but hungry, and you’re the one who ends up breaking away.

Before he can begin to question what’s happening, you dash out of the room. No. No, no, no. Your head spins as you attempt to process the emotions pulsing through your veins.

It was supposed to be a way of getting him back for his unwavering desire to scare you. Show him what it’s like to be the one on the other side of the joke. Because that’s all it was; a joke.

So why do you want to kiss him again?

Fresh air hits you like a slap in the face, and once you find Robin, you cling to her like a lifeline.

“We have to go,” you mumble, dragging her to the exit and refusing to make eye contact.

“Whoa, what happened?” When you refuse to answer, she sighs but doesn’t relent. “C’mon, did he, like, throw up or something?”

You shake your head. “I think he liked it.”

“Of course he did,” she says with a laugh, “the guy’s in love with you.” She nudges your hip with her own. “Toldja he would lose his shit.”

Your mouth goes dry. “Robs…when I said that I wanted him to ‘freak out,’ what did you think I meant?”

Robin crinkles her nose. “Um, that the Dingus-ette—that’s you—and her doting Dingus were finally going to admit that they have big, stupid crushes on each other?” Her expression falters when you stop in your tracks. “What did you mean?”

“I wanted,” you start, swallowing hard like a gob of peanut butter is stuck to the roof of your mouth, “I wanted to get him back for scaring me. I wanted to freak him out.”

“Mission accomplished.”

She’s no longer looking at you when she speaks, and you follow her gaze to where Eddie’s shuffling over to you. You want to beg her to stay, but she just squeezes your hand in a silent good luck.

“Hi.” Eddie’s voice is uncharacteristically quiet. “Can we talk?”

You can only nod in response. His mask is atop his mess of curls, and you can see the longing in his eyes. How have you never noticed it before? How did you not notice the need within yourself?

“Actually, I’m lying. I don’t want to talk.” With that, his arms pull you into him, torsos pressed together, and he’s kissing you. It’s like a missing link in a chain you hadn’t realized was broken, and you allow your hands to drape over his shoulders. You can feel him trembling slightly as he deepens the kiss.

“You okay?” you murmur against his lips.

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” he answers, ducking his head behind his curtain of hair. “Guess ‘m just a little freaked out that this is really happening.”

A smile twitches at the corners of your mouth, and you lace your fingers with his.

“Good.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things #fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst

1K notes · View notes

remuslupinslittleslut · 3 months

Text

Teach us - Part one

@missakward123: can you do dom! reader poly marauders? Also loved this!! Yes I can, but I have such a hard time writing a sub!Remus, so I kinda took it in my own direction.

Part two is found here!

Reader x Remus turned into Reader x Poly!Marauders.

Masterlist.

They thought it was strange how Remus had been the first to lose his virginity out of the three of them. Both Sirius and James had girls throwing themselves after them constantly, but somehow, Remus was the first to go all the way.

You had always found them all quite attractive, but thought that Sirius and James tended to be a bit obnoxious at times. When you saw Remus studying alone in the library one day, you thought you’d go up and say hi to the tall, handsome guy. The two of you had only talked briefly before this interaction, but soon found that you enjoyed each other’s company. It didn’t take long from there for you to go on a date and soon you were a couple.

Remus, ever the gentleman, didn’t tell his friends about your first time, he thought it was best kept private between the two of you, therefore you always tried to keep it somewhat lowkey, finding time to be perfectly alone. Though any secret could not be held for long in that dorm and one evening the cat came running and screaming out of the bag. You thought you’d get to be alone with Remus, as the other two had practice. As it turned out, however, practice was canceled and the door to the dorm was thrown open just in time for the two surprised boys to see you orgasm, quivering around Remus’ cock.

It slightly ruined the mood and you struggled to cover yourself as Sirius went on a long rampage about “The betrayal! The absolute betrayal. Our baby moons got laid and didn’t tell us. Here he is, having had sex the whole time – while keeping us in the dark.” He was pacing back and forth, only half joking about his distress before deciding to be the bigger person and be happy for his friend. “Good job Moons. First one out of all of us. Amazing.” With a chef’s kiss he left the subject of betrayal and moved on to something else.

After the embarrassing moment of coming in front of your boyfriend’s friends, it didn’t take long before the question was asked.

“Hey Moony, since you already had sex, could you teach us how to do it?”

“Yeah, Moons, I wanna be ready for when Lily lets me go all the way if you catch my drift,” James agreed, with a very unnecessary wink as everyone understood exactly what he meant.

You stared, gaping. That they would ask such a question didn’t surprise you one bit. The fact that Remus seemed to be actually thinking it over did.

“I guess,” he started, patting your thigh, “you’re gonna ask her if she’s willing to teach you.”

You, teaching his friends how to have sex? The idea was preposterous. Yet�� It did make you feel a certain tingle between your legs. You still found them attractive, and the thought of being the one to take their virginities? Oh, that was just beautiful. You thought it over in your head. Remus was quite dominant, not really treating you as a submissive but he liked being a bit in control, he’d never let you have all the reigns. These two however… Looking Remus straight in the eye, you searched for any form of hesitance – you didn’t find any.

“Alright then, we’re gonna have to set some rules,” you said.

It was agreed that the day after, you’d help take your boyfriend’s best friends’ virginities. You said 24 hours to give everyone a chance to back out, and told them very specifically that they would shower, properly, “none of that locker room stuff, a real shower, clean everything.” It was best to be clear when dealing with teenage boys.

A whole 24 hours later you found yourself walking up the stairs to their dorm. You knew Remus would be there, and you knew they’d given consent. You wore your school skirt, but without panties, a t-shirt with a very flattering bra and your hair out. You had to get yourself in that dominant mood, ready to boss the boys around. Since becoming Remus’ girlfriend, you had gotten to know his friends as well. You knew James would be easier to dom, and you knew Sirius would be a little brat. Therefore, you started with James. Opening the door, you could cut the tension with a knife.

The boys were so cute and nervous, standing up and waiting for you (not Remus, of course, he was comfortably splayed out on his own bed). “Jamie,” you said. “Do you still wanna do this?” He nodded. “Okay, then take your clothes off and sit down on your bed. You,” you turned to Sirius, “are gonna have to wait your turn.”

When James was naked and seated on the edge of his bed, you took a moment to appreciate his toned body. The moment didn’t last very long though as you wanted to feel him. Climbing into his lap, thighs straddling his, you took his face and held it in your hands. He was so pretty, so soft, so pliable. “Jamie, have you ever kissed a girl?” you asked him, bringing your mouth so close to his that your lips almost touched his. “No,” he said, cheeks flushing red. Holding onto his cheeks, you brought your lips against his, softly at first, then with a little more pleasure. The warm breath from his nose on your cheek sent chills down your spine. Deciding to progress, you slightly opened your mouth, letting your tongue out to lick lightly at his lips. He moaned.

You continued kissing him, making out really, until you felt he was ready to move on. Leaning back a little, you pulled your top over your head, revealing your soft tits, perfectly framed by your bra. “Go ahead, baby, you can touch.” With your permission, warm hands pressed against your back before following the lines of your body, meeting your front and lightly squeezing your tits. You allowed him to explore freely, until he pushed his head down, paused and looked up at you, eyes asking for permission. Instead of answering him verbally, you pushed your tits against his face, letting him know he could kiss and suck all he wanted. He did manage to get your bra off all on his (you were so proud of him), and as it fell to the floor, you felt his cock twitching.

You let him play some more with your boobies before taking his hand, kissing it once and telling him “Jamie, have you ever felt a girl?” When he shook his head, you kissed the top of his head and pushed his hand down, between your bodies and toward your core. “Feel that? I’m all wet, that’s all for you baby,” you cooed, watching his facial expressions in awe – he was so fascinated. “Now, do you know where your little cock is supposed to go?” Little was a big lie. His brows furrowed in concentration as he felt around for the right hole, he did find it, and pushed a finger in. “Good boy, now put your cock in.” You raised yourself, hovering above him, hand coming down to help him push his cock into your warm hole. “Oh that’s a good boy f’me,” you moaned, loving the feeling of him filling you up.

Being so focused on James had almost made you forget about your audience, looking to the side, you met Remus’ hungry eyes. You could tell he was enjoying the show, hand rubbing against the bulge in his pants. You decided not to look at Sirius, making him wait for your attention.

Grabbing James’ shoulders, you carefully tried moving, sliding yourself along his cock, making you both moan. You tried a few different movements, going up and down, back and forth. It felt really good and you enjoyed playing around with it, and it seemed as though he was enjoying it too, his head thrown back, glasses askew and mouth slightly open. Suddenly his hands squeezed hard on your hips, making you stop your movements. “Jamie, you okay?” You asked, massaging his scalp with your fingers. “Yeah,” he reassured, “yeah, just need to… I’m gonna come…”

You giggled softly, “it’s okay if you do, but first, I wanna do one more thing.” Pulling your body away from his was hard, letting his heavy cock fall out of you was even harder, and you immediately mourned the loss. Though, you knew it would be worth it. Laying down flat on your back, you beckoned for him to join you, to climb on top of you. “You should know how to fuck a girl, Jamie,” you said, helping him find his way back into you. His athletic body was made for this, for moving himself back and forth, hips pushing against yours. He didn’t go very fast, but you knew he’d be able to when he got more used to the feeling. Hiding his face against your neck, letting the vibrations of his moans shoot right through you, his hips started making the smallest, cutest, most desperate little movements. “That’s good baby, that’s a good boy, you’re doing so well, so good, making me feel so good.” You didn’t think you’d be able to come, he was a virgin, but the little thrusts pushed the head of his cock against you in a way that just felt too good to hold back.

“Jamie, baby, I’m ‘bout to come,” you moaned, kissing his head, holding him close, ��you’re so go- ah-od,” your moans grew louder as you experienced a rather mild orgasm, though, an orgasm nonetheless. Your walls spasming around him made him come as well, pretty cock filling you up with his little virgin cum.

“Wow, Jamie, you did so well, I’m so proud of you,” you told him, after he had pulled out and collapsed on top of you. His head was still buried in the crook of your neck, his breathing fast and hard. “Did you enjoy it?” You asked, to which he pulled his face away, eyes wide. “Like it? That was amazing.”

You stayed like that, letting him hold onto your body for a while, not wanting to leave him without aftercare and love. Though you knew, as soon as James moved away from you, you’d have to deal with his mischievous best friend. Before you let James continue his cuddling – with Remus – you made him promise you something. “Next time love, you’re gonna let me take your cute little cock in my mouth, okay?” To this, he nodded, excitedly.

Part two.

793 notes · View notes

cammys-imagines24 · 1 year

Text

• Kaz Brekker Being Jealous •

It should come as no surprise that jealousy with Kaz is a common occurrence. The green eyed monster making it's presence known almost daily.

Even towards others who Kaz knows aren't a threat to your relationship.

It rears it's ugly head whenever he sees others touching you in ways that he cannot.

Such as when Nina kisses your cheeks in greeting or when she takes you on a day of shopping, her being able to see or touch your form as she forces you to try on fancy gowns.

And when Jesper casually drapes an arm around your shoulders or picks you up into a bone crushing hug, twirling you all around.

The envy is prominent then, when Kaz witnesses his own Crows giving you simple intimacies without a second thought. Ones he should effortlessly be giving you and more.

But with Nina and Jesper, Dirtyhands is never resentful towards them for long and can move on as soon as he sees you smile at him.

Or when you show how comfortable you are around him, like after a long day when he sees you relax on the settee in his office or when you carelessly throw your over-clothes around your quarters with him there.

When he sees you so content being in his company he can almost feel slightly grateful to the sharpshooter and heartrender for being there for you in ways he is unable (almost).

Now, let's say you're recieving unwanted attention from a mere Pigeon at the Crow Club? Or even another member of the Dregs? That's where the problem starts.

If anyone, anyone, lays a hand on you without your consent then that's where, as Mathias is apt to call him, the real Demjin shows himself.

See Kaz is very good at threatening people. And when it comes to protecting you, when it comes to the little green eyed monster inside his head, he even gets great satisfaction out of torture if necessary.

For instance, say some seedy bloke is staring at you too much for too long, well Kaz might just have to gouge out his eyes so he can never look again.

A hand finds it's way to grope your hips, ass or chest? Kaz deems it appropriate that the offender should just have said hand cut off.

There is a reason why you feel safe walking even the shadiest of alleys or going into the worst of pleasure houses on your own after all.

It being a well known fear told throughout the streets in hushed tones of just who is protecting you and what happens to any that disturb you.

Kaz would sooner lose the Crow Club itself than admit whenever he's jealous but you can always tell.

After all, despite his sharp expression, his eyes are a dead giveaway to how he's really feeling.

And though you cannot touch him as freely as most couples can with each other, you have your own ways of subtly reassuring him that he has nothing to worry about.

You are his and he is yours and no hug from a friend or grope from a creep will ever change that.

Your relationship isn't lacking, despite his fears. Despite the lack of physical intimacy.

Because in your heart you know how much the bastard of the barrel loves you.

#six of crows #six of crows kaz #kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker imagines #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker headcanons #kaz brekker headcanon #six of crows x reader #six of crows imagines #six of crows headcanons #soc x reader #soc fanfic

2K notes · View notes

its-time-to-write · 11 months

Text

masterlist

i figured it was time to make one. it's in order based on when i wrote it. please, please let me know if a link is broken/mislabeled!!

*81 fics*

All of these are Jamie Tartt x reader

dress

Jamie and Keeley buy you a dress for the benefit gala

three times 'cause i've waited my whole life

secret relationship to engagement

you're losing me

first kid

don't make this any harder

Jamie wants to take you to Brazil, you’re both idiots

would hit him in a heartbeat now

Your ex boyfriend is a footballer and also a douche

silent sleepers

Jamie contemplates your relationship on the team bus

what it is

Jamie is sick ft. Roy

don't go wasting your emotion

Secret relationship + you own a bookshop! Ft. Roy and Keeley

you know, you'll always know me

You’re a famous singer! Congrats!

i don't know how you keep smiling/i'm just choking almost constantly

Jamie’s dad is a douche

i'll still be right next to you my dear

Jamie is a dad

can't really say i'm enjoying it now

Yikes it’s a breakup fic, but happy endings only in this house

mine of you with me

Reader and Jamie go semi-public with their relationship

today's a day like any other

The Tartt family thru the years

there's orange juice in the kitchen

Oof ouch period cramps

i can't breathe without you

Nate kisses you w/o consent

damned if i do give a damn what people say

You’re a theater actress! How exciting!

island made of faith

People think Jamie’s dumb, and he’s not

take your time while you're mine

You’re Roy’s other sister ft. all the Kents

honey, i'll give you all my time

Vienna. Enough said.

feeling fragile can't you tell

Jamie gets hurt

wrote all your lines in the script in my mind

Oh no! Some girl kissed Jamie and it wasn’t you! + Colin as the bff

stick together like glitter

Babysitting Phoebe + angst

your mind is not your friend

Angst + comfort after you have a bad hookup

chasing shadows in a grocery line

You’re pretty sure you have a hot stalker

don’t go yet

Tee hee protective Jamie at a club

kicking myself to keep from crying

The morning after your mind is not your friend

i think we could do it if we tried

High school sweethearts reunited after 6 years🥺

i’m glad you exist

You and Jamie go to a wedding

send for me

BREAKING: shit day at work made better by local boyfriend

tell me where to put my love

day off = food + snuggles

bored

The longest angst I’ve ever written. Def not the best angst I’ve ever written.

would it be enough if i never gave you peace

you’ve got baby fever and your pretty sure it’s going to kill your brother

wishing on every one

You own a flower shop. It’s adorable.

lyrical eyes, indigo smile

Bea meets the team for the first time!

something to rely on

You storm the pitch and smooch your bf

flipped the script

Enemies to lovers slow burn (or maybe fast burn, idk)

i fancy you

London Boy by ms. T. Swift

you don’t want to know me

Jamie shows up at your door after s.1 Man City

you’re in the kitchen humming

Post-Mom City

family that i chose

For the child-free girlies!

never wanted you to hate me

Pt. 2 of you don’t want to know me

wonderstruck

BFF Keeley tells you to give her awful ex a chance

in love with an idea

idk it’s like a confession of love? kinda cute

sinking into your worn-out mattress

Touch-deprived therapist! reader

you’re a mansion with a view

just two footballers doing an England promo, nothing to see here

i know what i’m doing

Post-Roy/Jamie locker room hug after Man City

wonder what it’d be like

Jamie tries to win you back

if only love were true

You’re a single mom in dire need of a plus-one

i know now it’ll pass

It’s hard to love someone when you’ve been told you don’t deserve it

the way it goes

The Greyhounds are protective of Jamie

how to love being alive

Idk this one’s like whatever and also supes long

there is happiness

GEORGIE GEORGIE GEORGIE

it’s just wanderlust

Relationship soft launch

glitter on the floor

You like to knit. You also think you’re a comedian.

maybe tomorrow you’ll know

The “he’s a prick to everyone but her” trope

hustling for the good life

I swear this is my last chaptered fic

let’s fall in love for the night

Kent!reader is having a baby

soft hands hit the jagged ground

friends w/benefits

for you, there’ll be no more crying

anxiety at work + bf jamie

smile at me

there was only one bed!!!!

slow motion double vision in rose blush

happy b-day Jamie Tartt

half-moon eyes

it’s just a question!

can’t hear my thoughts (i cannot hear my thoughts)

I’m allowed to write what i want, ok???

here in my arms

more Kent!reader + a baby named George

coffee at midnight

prick coach wakes you up bc of your prick boyfriend

healing me fine

Just a lil engagement fic for ya

i don’t know anything

if you’re interested in Bea

right words at the right time

It’s a wedding fic

move fast and keep quiet

boxer!reader + smitten Jamie

not saying you’re in love with me

You meet over Bantr!!!

we could be so good

Jamie comforts you after a bad date

i hold it like a grudge

i don’t even know how to describe this one but u might cry

there for you

sick fic

before you go

physio!reader

you’ll probably date her

chronic illness + childhood friends. gotta love it

feel it burn

Gym anxiety

play it back

Old movies of bb Jamie

ours

Thanksgivinggggg

light in the hallway

MORE Kent!reader

stuck by you

Bad family + good Jamie = fic

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso #masterlist

859 notes · View notes

sluttyten · 7 months

Text

You In My Arms

Chapter 10: I'm Yours

full masterlist || haechan masterlist || YIMA chapter index

summary: During those first few months of your relationship, you and Haechan explore each other and adventure into new areas with each other. Not without some bumps along the way.

length: 15,168 words

tags: friends to lovers, general perversion, smut, public sex, period sex, somnophilia, light consensual non consent, voyeurism, exhibitionism, etc.

previous chapter || next chapter (Coming Soon)

Falling in love isn’t just about having sex. Obviously. But for you and Haechan, it is a big part.

You have a healthy, active sex life.

Over those first couple months of your relationship, it’s hard to keep your hands off each other.

Whether in private or in public, it doesn’t matter for either of you. At first, you definitely don’t care who sees.

Like when you go over to Haechan and YangYang’s apartment, and after you’ve made a delicious dinner, Haechan fucks you against the sink in the kitchen, his hand over your mouth to keep your moans from echoing out of the room to where YangYang sits on the sofa. His back is to you, but all he’d really have to do is just turn his head and he’d be able to see you getting railed. Not that you care, and not that you think YangYang would really care if he caught you. Haechan has told you about all the times that he’s pretty sure YangYang let him listen to him have sex, that he even left his door cracked open for Haechan to watch.

There’s a time when you sleep over at Haechan’s, and in the morning he neglects to warn you that a visitor has arrived. YangYang isn’t there, so you feel comfortable enough to walk out of Haechan’s bedroom to where he stands in the kitchen, to draw him into a kiss, to let him lift you up to sit on the countertop, and you urge his fingers between your thighs.

Of course, that’s when Renjun emerges from the bathroom and finds Haechan two fingers deep in your pussy.

“Embarrassed?” Haechan teases, kissing you on the cheek, his kiss only serving to deepen the heat of your blush. “It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before, right?”

Renjun laughs at that. “Should I return the favor, Haechan? Watch you with her since I know you watched us?” He gestures between you and himself.

Haechan’s hand that rests on your thigh tightens. He leans over you a bit possessively, staring at Renjun until you lift a hand to Haechan’s cheek.

With your fingertips pressing against his cheek, you guide his attention back to you, his lips down to yours.

Before you meet Haechan’s kiss, you groan, “Go away, Renjun.”

He laughs again. “You know, I was invited here by your boyfriend to go eat breakfast.”

Haechan’s lips twitch into a smile. “Plans changed. You can’t have any of what I’m going to eat.”

Then it is your turn to laugh as Haechan ducks down to kiss and nip at your throat. You grasp his shoulders, ignoring the way Renjun grumbles, “Gross,” before he turns and walks out of the apartment.

Haechan and you have sneaky sex at work too.

One horribly stormy day, the two of you are coming back from lunch when the power goes out in the building, stalling the elevator you’re in like a perfect sexy cliche. You take full advantage of it, and you sink to your knees for him. Haechan cums on your tongue and your chin, and then he spends the rest of the time that you’re trapped in there to kiss the taste of himself from you.

There’s a late evening when you’re both still at work even though on a normal day you’d have left hours ago. You’re in the break room when Haechan sneaks up behind you and pins you against the countertop. “I’ve been thinking about doing this all day,” he groans, “This dress looks too good on you, baby.” You stand still, sinking into the feeling of his hands on your body, lifting the back of your dress up, and neither of you make any attempt to hide what you’re doing.

There are still a few people left in the office even at this late hour, but they’re all bowed over their work at their desks, not paying any attention to you and Haechan in the break room with the door nearly shut. But anyone could walk in at any moment, and that possibility sparks a thrill inside both of you.

“Let them know,” Haechan says directly into your ear. “Let them all know that you’re a perfect angel for me, letting me do whatever I want with you, whenever I want.”

You didn’t really consider Haechan to be a jealous man, but it certainly drives him a little wild when Yuta gets a little too flirtatious with you one day. Haechan knows about that brief little history you have with your coworker — you’ve both been perfectly open and honest about your sexual histories — which just invites enough jealousy in him that Haechan stays late with you that day so he can fuck you at your desk. He presses between your shoulder blades until your chest is flat against the desk, and with each of his deep, brutal thrusts your hips slam against the edge of your desk, hard enough to bruise. You love it, though; you love the way that he tries so hard to make sure that you don’t forget about him (which there is absolutely no risk of), and he tugs down the neckline of your dress, biting down on the soft part of your shoulder to leave a mark, as if laying his claim on you.

During spring, right in that pocket of time when the days are finally warming up, when the air buzzes with insects and the heady scent of blooming flowers, freshly trimmed grass, and new green things sprouting, you and Haechan start to explore public exhibitionism a little more. Lunch dates in the park on warm days mean cute little sundresses that are easily flipped up for Haechan to finger you right there in the middle of a wide grassy stretch with passersby none the wiser.

Warmer days mean that you break out some strappy tops, which are easier for you to slip off your shoulder, freeing a nipple or even the whole breast for Haechan to stare at hungrily while you sit across from him at an ice cream shop.

You know people have to spot the two of you as you play these risky games. But if they do, no one makes it obvious.

Until one day.

You know for certain that an older man — mid-forties and handsome, his hair just beginning to get a bit silver at the temples, wearing a suit that is perfectly tailored to him — catches you during brunch one morning.

It’s a small, crowded cafe. You’re in the back corner, but there are still a decent amount of tables around you, enough that it’s quite risky when you lean forward with your elbows on the table, revealing to Haechan the way that your dress has “accidentally slipped” and both of your tits peek out over the top of your dress.

“Goddamn it,” Haechan groans. “You’re gonna do this to me now?” He glances around. “We haven’t even gotten our food yet.”

“And?” You do your best to maintain a face of perfect innocence even as your nipples grow hard beneath Haechan’s attention and the cool air of the cafe. “That just means we have more time for fun.”

You slide one foot out of your sandal, and you lift it into Haechan’s lap. He reaches down, curling his hand around your ankle as your toes explore along the length of his thigh, dipping against the front of his pants until you find the rise of his cock. Of course he’s already half-hard from the sight of your tits. And as you caress him with your toes and the arch of your foot beneath the table, as he keeps looking at your tits, Haechan only grows harder.

You pull your dress back up over your chest when the waitress returns, sliding your brunch onto the table, replacing your half-drained mimosas. But you leave your foot in Haechan’s lap. There’s a table cloth draped over the table anyway, so it’s not like she notices anything amiss. But after she walks away, after one of the few tables around you in this back corner finishes their brunch and leaves as well, you tug your dress down enough that your tits are at risk of spilling out. You keep your foot moving over Haechan’s erection straining against the front of his pants.

Someone nearby loudly clears their throat, but you don’t look away from your plate. Haechan however tenses up a little, his hand squeezing your ankle. But he doesn’t push you away, doesn’t tell you to stop. So you keep going, eating and enjoying your brunch while you also enjoy getting your boyfriend off.

Haechan ordered more food than you, so he takes longer to eat. You’re completely finished when he’s only about halfway done. And since you are somewhat bored, you pull your top back up and instead put all of your attention into what you’re doing in his lap instead. Haechan, to his credit, only twitches a little when your toes suddenly find the zipper of his pants, when you pinch the zipper between your toes and drag it down. The button fastening his pants is a little harder to navigate, but luckily he helps you out with that, reaching down and quickly flicking it open so you can get your toes there to stroke him over his underwear now.

“What is it that you want here?” Haechan asks. He glances around, his eyes lingering a little extra long on a table to your left.

“Take it out,” you tell him.

Haechan’s attention lowers to his plate, his lips curving upwards as he asks, “And then what?”

“Then that’s up for you to decide.” You draw your foot out of his lap. “But if you finish your brunch and finish yourself, I may have a special gift for you later.”

Usually Haechan is in charge of special gifts for you. You don’t usually give him things, rather allowing him to dote on you. Over the weeks that have suddenly stretched into months since this relationship began, you’ve fallen a lot more comfortably into the idea of Haechan being in charge, Haechan being dominant. Not that he’s extremely dominating or anything like that, but he likes taking care of you, likes being in charge and seeing you submit to him — though sometimes that means fucking you until you’re crying and letting him do pretty much anything he wants until you spit out a safeword; sometimes it means something entirely non-sexual like just letting him baby you and take care of you after a long day with cuddles and a nice warm shower; and then in either a sexual or non-sexual situation he gives you gifts, just little things that range from a snack to a sex toy.

But overall, you’re not the one with special surprises for him. So this catches his attention.

You can tell the moment when the hand Haechan drops into his lap frees his cock. You can tell by the ease of his shoulders, the quick flicker in his eyes when he glances around at the surrounding tables. He’s tucked up beneath the table cloth, but you’re sure he’s wondering if they can still tell what he’s doing. This is more exposure than Haechan is used to. Typically it’s you exposing yourself while Haechan watches or touches. The roles are reversed this morning, and you can’t even see him touching himself really. But you can see it in his face, you can see the movement in his arm, feel the shuffle of his feet beneath the table as they bump against yours in an effort to maybe hide his actions even more beneath the table, and you can hear the way his breathing changes as he strokes his cock with one hand while attempting to maintain a semblance of normalcy by continuing to eat his brunch with the other hand.

You watch Haechan’s expression, noting the way that he’s quickly edging up to his breaking point. He drops his fork to his plate, lifting his hand instead into a fist in front of his mouth. His eyes snag on yours, telling you without words that he’s about to cum.

Your elbow knocks into your own plate, dislodging your utensils. The knife falls to the floor, and before Haechan has time to react, you drop to the floor. Your fingertips bump against the knife, pushing it deeper under the table, and you sink beneath the table cloth on your hands and knees. And come face to face with exactly what you’d hoped to see.

Haechan’s hand looks beautiful as he pumps his pink-tipped erection.

To his credit, Haechan only barely flinches when you lean in, lifting a hand to take over from his, and you put your mouth right over his tip to suck. Just a couple pumps of your hand along his length, and Haechan cums, spilling on your tongue.

You’re a good girl, as he tells you all the time, so you swallow it all down.

You even tuck his cock away again before grabbing the knife from the floor and climbing out from under the table into your seat.

And that’s when you notice the suited older man watching you. Haechan spots him too. You both know you’re caught, and Haechan immediately blushes with embarrassment.

It’s when the man doesn’t look away that the blush fades from Haechan’s cheeks, and instead anger begins to paint his expression. By that point you’re sitting fully back in your seat, your back to the man, and the pair of you are waiting for the waitress to come back after you’ve given her Haechan’s card to pay. But it’s clear in the way that Haechan keeps looking over at the man, with your boyfriend’s expression growing darker and darker, that the man is still looking.

Haechan is not an overly jealous man – he has admitted to you on more than one occasion that he still sometimes thinks about you with Renjun, even rewatches that video in his phone when he can’t be with you, and it’s not jealousy he feels in those moments but intense arousal – but sometimes he can’t help displaying a bit of jealousy and possessiveness. And that morning is one of those moments.

The man gets up to leave before the waitress returns with Haechan’s credit card. You watch Haechan’s expression as he looks the man up and down as he approaches your table on his way out, and then to your surprise the man pauses right beside you.

You’re tense. Haechan looks ready to spring.

The man slides some cash onto the table right in front of you. And then he touches your shoulder, saying in a greasy tone, “For the show, darling.”

Haechan shoves angrily back from the table, but his face is impassive as he reaches over and calmly removes the man’s hand from your shoulder. “Don’t touch her.”

The man snorts derisively.

The waitress obliviously slides Haechan’s card back onto the table and bustles off to one of her other tables. You grab the card, grab the cash the man slipped you, and you stand up.

“For the record,” you tell the man, “I’m not a whore, but I will take your fucking money.”

You pocket Haechan’s card and the man’s cash, step clear around the man, and take Haechan’s hand.

You leave the cafe quickly, hoping to get clear away from the man. This is of course a risk of doing anything sexual in public — getting caught by a pervert. It was one thing when the pervert you hoped to be caught by was Haechan, but a perfect stranger who feels entitled to come up and speak to you? To touch you? To pay you as if you’re a common whore?

Haechan fumes beside you the whole walk back to where you parked your car. And as soon as you’re alone behind the cover of your car’s tinted windows, he reaches over the center console and cups your face in both of his hands, dragging you into a ferociously possessive kiss.

You lay off the exhibitionism for a short time after that. You take the time to truly savor having each other in the privacy of your bedroom or his. You kinda chill it on the crazy sexual hormones then for a bit as you slip out of the honeymoon phase of your relationship where everything still feels brand new and exciting and you’re both constantly horny for each other. Instead, you focus a little more on work to aim for a promotion that Taeil has been hinting someone will be receiving. And when that time arrives, and the promised promotion is given to you over everyone else, you celebrate with Haechan.

You take him out to dinner somewhere nice where the two of you gorge yourselves with delicious, rich food and sweet wine. For dessert, you feast on each other at home in your apartment, savoring each last bit of each other until you collapse in a tangled heap of sweaty limbs in your bedsheets.

You don’t leave bed the next morning, just pick up where you left off the night before. You forget everything that morning except for the taste of Haechan’s skin, the feel of him inside you, the sound of his breath and his moans and your name from his tongue.

Both of you are still deeply caught up in each other, though in a more gentle and intimate fashion as he holds you against his chest beneath the covers, rolling his hips forward while he buries his face in your hair.

To anyone who might happen upon the scene, it could maybe almost look like you’re just spooning while oversleeping late into the morning.

Or at least that’s what you hope it looks like when your family surprises you by dropping in for a somewhat unannounced visit.

Truthfully, you’d just forgotten that you had plans with them that day, that they were in the city to visit with you. You’d thought any plans you had would be much later in the day, but also you had certainly lost track of time all tangled up with Haechan.

So when your bedroom door suddenly opens and you look up into the faces of your parents and one sibling, you pray to every god that anyone has ever believed in that your family members don’t realize that Haechan is currently balls-deep inside you.

It’s your dad that reacts first.

He laughs and then backs out of the room, pushing your sibling behind him, pulling your mom along too. The door closes.

“Fucking shit. Oh my god. Haechan….” You make a valiant attempt at suffocating yourself in your pillow.

Haechan laughs a little, although the sound is halfway between amusement and awkwardness. He pulls out of you, rolling over to the edge of your bed. He starts getting dressed, but you don't move until Haechan slides back in bed with you, his hand stroking along your spine.

“Let’s go face your family.” He whispers, placing a kiss right behind your ear. “Maybe they’ll be so proud of your promotion they’ll forget what they just walked in on.”

Doubtful.

“I can’t go out there,” you groan into the pillow.

Haechan makes a sympathetic noise. “Should I at least go introduce myself?”

You twist around, catching his hands in yours. “No! You can’t go out there either!”

Now he fully laughs at you, dipping down to kiss you briefly. “You’d rather we stay in here and they think that we’re still having sex even though they’re sitting in your living room, baby? Come on, get up.”

You get dressed quickly, and you leave the bedroom first. Haechan lingers behind.

Your family is arrayed on the furniture in the living room, and you curse yourself mentally for ever giving them a copy of the key to your apartment. Your sibling is still laughing, and your parents are silently communicating with each other through a series of facial expressions and direct eye contact.

Only once you sit down across from them do any of them actually look at you. And a second later when your dad’s eyes slip behind you toward the direction of your bedroom door, you know that Haechan has emerged.

“This is Haechan,” you announce, “My boyfriend.”

That causes a few raised eyebrows. You’ve mentioned Haechan several times over the years, and within the last couple of months you’ve definitely mentioned that you’re dating someone. You’d just not ever told them that Haechan and your boyfriend were one and the same.

Haechan comes to sit right beside you, immediately reaching for your hand to hold one in both of his. You try to tuck away a rising smile as you notice the way his fingers are trembling nervously.

“Hello,” he nods, greeting your family. “Nice to meet you all.”

You squeeze his hand and he squeezes back, glancing over at you. Now you really smile at him, unable to hold it back. Yeah, this is kinda awkward having your family meet him right after they walked in on you together, but with Haechan by your side, you know it’ll be alright.

And it certainly is.

Haechan charms them spectacularly. It probably helps that he spends the entire day praising you, boasting to them about how you just received a promotion at the Moon Corporation where you work together. Apparently his constant adoration of you makes the fact that they walked in on you and him this morning okay. How can your parents disapprove when Haechan puts on his best face with them?

He makes recommendations for a place for all of you to grab dinner later that evening, and he compliments both of your parents and cracks jokes with your sibling, and every chance he gets, he holds your hand or puts his arm around you, looking hopelessly devoted and in love with you.

He completely wins your family over.

Later that night after dinner, Haechan goes back to his own apartment. Tonight you’ll be sleeping separately for the first time in weeks, and the thought of that is slightly upsetting, but your family comes back to your apartment with you.

There’s some maintenance thing that your dad agrees to help you and your roommate with, and she’s better with tools than you are. She’s back at the apartment by that point, so she assists your dad with the project. Your sibling watches, and you and your mom sit in the living room to talk.

“He’s nice.” Your mom has been quiet for a while when she says that, and after a split second pause, she clarifies, “Haechan. He’s a good boy.”

“He is,” you agree. Nevermind all of his qualities that you’re quite intimate with that would definitely make him fall into a Not Good Boy category if your mom knew about them.

She smiles. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this with anyone before. Smitten. You’ve always kind of had a look in your eye when you’ve talked about him. Even years ago, when you went away for school, you would FaceTime us and tell us stories about your friends, and you would get this smile on your face when you mentioned him.” She laughs lightly and gestures at your face, “It’s the same smile you’ve had all day when you look at him. Back then I knew it was only a matter of time, but I never thought it would take this long for your little crush to become something more.”

“Trust me,” you sigh, “Neither did I. I was resigned to just being his friend, but then he finally made a move.”

Your mom nods. “How long has it been?”

“A few months.” You can’t believe that the time has passed by so quickly. The first kiss still feels fresh in your mind, the first date like it’s just happened although the temperature has long since turned from the bitter cold it had been that night.

“You look happy,” she comments, and you notice a shimmer of emotion in her eyes as she says, “I’m so happy for you. He seems really good for you, and even if your dad teases you about him, just know that he really likes him too.”

That blooms a warm feeling in your chest. Not that you need your family’s approval to validate your relationship with Haechan, but it certainly still feels really good to know that they’re happy that you’re happy with him.

“Just, please,” your mom laughs, “Don’t think I’m rushing you when I say that I would love some cute grandbabies sooner rather than later.”

“Mom!”

With the pair of you taking a step back from the riskiness of public sex, you decide to instead explore some other interests of yours and his in the safety and privacy of your apartments.

Haechan wants to try out a bit of consensual non-consent, which here means him surprising you while you’re asleep, doing what he wants to you — light touches to turn you on without waking you up, his fingers buried inside you while he feeds you just the tip of his cock.

You were intrigued by the idea of being a toy for him, so you agreed on the condition that you wanted to know afterwards what he’d done.

Haechan filmed it so you could see how he took his time exploring your body, leaving hickeys scattered across your belly. He played with your tits for a while before he started to finger you, and that was when he finally hit the point where he seemingly couldn’t take it any longer, and he just had to feel your lips around his cock.

You’d woken as soon as he came down your throat, startled awake, coughing and gagging on the taste of it.

You’d returned the favor a few days later, curious about what it was like to play with someone sleeping.

Haechan had stayed out late the night before, letting himself into your apartment at half past three. He’d passed out on your bed, and stayed in exactly that position from that moment until even after you woke around eight o’clock.

He was unaware of the world around him, and when you knelt on the floor beside his side of your bed, he’d not even twitched as you pulled away the covers to free his dick to your access. You kissed his thighs and hips, stroked your fingers along his inner thighs.

And then you’d given him your mouth. Kisses along his cock from balls to tip. You’d used your hand to touch him too while you moved your mouth to his chest to tease his nipples. Haechan’s cock swelled in your hand, and you couldn’t help but feel powerful to have him reacting to you like this even while he was asleep.

Is this how he felt when he did this to you?

You blew him, pausing when he would move or when he would make noise. You didn’t want him to wake up yet, you wanted to savor this opportunity to do what you pleased with him. Such as when you got him flat on his back, you kneeling between his legs, your tongue tasting the salty precum at his slit, and you’d slipped a wet finger down to just glide over his asshole.

Haechan had moaned, loud enough that you thought he’d woken. But a moment later he’d settled again, and once you were satisfied with how hard he was, you dug a condom out from beneath your bed, and you climbed up to straddle his cock. You put the condom on him before you sunk down on Haechan’s cock, and you were glad you’d thought of the condom.

The moment that Haechan registered the weight and warmth and tightness of your pussy swallowing his cock, he woke up. His hands grasped at your hips, he thrust up into you, impaling you on his cock. He made it clear that your moment of being in charge had passed.

Quite literally, Haechan flipped things around.

Your shoulders hit the mattress, and he fucked you as if he hadn’t been asleep just moments before. Haechan fucked you while he scolded you for being a slut, for having fun with him while he slept, degrading you which only excited you more.

In the end, it turns out that you both kinda like that sort of sleepy sex.

You explore angry, hateful sex, too.

Your first big argument comes in late April at Jeno’s birthday party. You and Haechan turn heads with the ferocity of your argument, but fifteen minutes later, you’re fucking Haechan in the bathroom, riding him on the toilet until he picks you up, spins you around, and fucks you against the bathroom wall. He’s rough in exactly the way you wanted him to be when you angrily dragged him in here, when you attacked him with biting kisses.

He leaves bruises at your hips, yanking at your hair, he even closes a hand around your throat, applying pressure just perfectly to make your body thrill with excitement, your orgasm overtaking you. You like it a little rough and angry, the way that he bites and pulls and grabs in the moment, followed by tender kisses and apologies, a warm embrace and a conversation about how to resolve whatever your argument has been about.

You explore the properly dirty type of sex, too.

On the most brutal day of your period, you’re absolutely miserable. Cramps and a headache, emotional and horny and hungry. All the worst of your symptoms it seems are rolled into this one day.

But Haechan is the best.

When you’re laid up at his apartment in his bed, he gets up to grab snacks to satisfy your hunger. He gets a heating pad to help your cramps, a cold compress for your headache. There’s not much he can do to help ease the annoying mood swings you’re dealing with, but the horniness….

“I don’t mind,” Haechan tells you when you whine about how what you’re craving isn’t the snack he just brought you but rather an orgasm. “I can help you with that, babe.”

You move the cold compress away from where you had it covering your eyes. “Don’t be gross, Donghyuck.”

He makes a face at the sound of his full name. “It’s not gross,” he argues. “I’m not gonna eat you out, but I don’t see why I can’t help you cum if you think it’ll make you feel better. We have a variety of options.” He holds up his hand, ticking the options off as he lists them. “You can just dry hump me, ride my thigh. I could just use my fingers. I could get one of your toys. I could just fuck you; I don’t mind getting a little messy.”

You just stare at him for a moment, dealing with an internal conflict of giving in to your base desires and letting Haechan get you off, or you could save yourself the embarrassment of Haechan getting disgusted the moment that your pants are off.

“Please?” Haechan asks, “You know I love you. I just want to make you feel good.”

“And this has absolutely nothing to do with how horny you were complaining you were yesterday before I told you I’d started my period?”

Haechan’s grin grows. “I didn’t say I was offering for only your benefit, angel.”

“Go grab a towel at least.” You roll your eyes a little, but inside your heart is racing with excitement. In the past, the guys you’ve been with have all been utterly disgusted by your period, bummed out that they wouldn’t be having sex with you for a week because period sex would be too gross. You’ve never had a guy be as attentive to you during your period as Haechan has been over these months you’ve been together, and certainly none of them have ever been as interested in having period sex as he is. But you shouldn’t be too surprised. He’s a pervert, enjoying these things others often find off-putting.

When Haechan returns with a towel, you rearrange so you’re lying on top of the towel.

“What would you like?” Haechan asks, kneeling there patiently. “Which of the options?”

You roll your eyes at him again. “Just come kiss me, then I’ll decide.”

Haechan lets you take control. He sinks in against your side as you curl an arm behind his head, drawing him in deeper for your kiss. He drapes an arm over your belly while you lift a leg to curl it over his hip. The two of you tangle yourselves together, sinking into the kiss and into each others’ bodies. You play with Haechan’s hair as you kiss him, languid kisses tasting sweet and syrupy, building the heat between you. You can feel him growing hard against you, you can feel your heartbeat throbbing between your legs as your arousal grows. And when you’ve finally reached the point where you can’t just lie still anymore, you start rocking your hips.

With your leg slung over Haechan’s side, his thigh is bent forward between your legs, and when you rock your hips, you’re rocking right against his strong thigh.

You sigh into the kiss, and Haechan smiles.

“Does it feel good?” He kisses the corner of your mouth, and when you nod, he says, “Keep going.”

And you do. Your body moves on autopilot, like you’re starved and insatiable, just taking what you need, what your body desperately craves. You hump Haechan’s thigh as he sponges kisses along your jaw, as he murmurs praises and encouragements. “That’s a good girl,” he breathes against your ear, and, “Just like that, angel.”

Haechan lets you take what you need, and when the sweet friction from humping his thigh carries you over the edge with a cry, he drops his hands to your hip and keeps you moving until you’re whining from sensitivity, but you’re still not finished.

“More,” you beg, twisting your fingers in the front of his shirt. There are tears burning from the corners of your eyes as you keep grinding against Haechan’s thigh, but it’s not enough. You still need more.

“I can give you more.” Haechan rolls you over flat onto your back, and he pulls away from you which is the exact opposite of what you were asking for. He reaches down and pulls his shirt over his head, and then he reaches for the waistband of the sweatpants you’re wearing, and when you lift your hips, he drags them down your legs. The tank top you’re wearing is next; Haechan draws it over your head, tossing it aside in the same moment that he kisses you again. His hands rise to your bare tits, drawing a new whine of sensitivity from you.

“Careful,” you moan. “They’re sore.”

“Sorry, baby,” Haechan apologizes, lowering his head to place a kiss over each nipple. And then a little kitten-lick to one, his lips and tongue warm and soft against your sensitive nipples, his hand gentle and warm on the other breast.

Your tits are so sensitive it doesn’t take long for your heart to be thundering, your body pulsing with hot need, your chest arching against Haechan’s lips.

All it takes is a desperate whine and your hand lightly pressing against the top of his head for Haechan to leave your tits and start mouthing his way down over your ribs and your belly. And then he reaches for your panties to remove them.

“Wait,” you exhale, grappling for his wrist.

Haechan freezes, face hovering above your belly, his fingers tucked into the elastic of your panties ready to pull them down. He looks up at you.

“You don’t have to do this,” you reassure him. You don’t want him to feel like he has to have sex with you just because you’re horny right now. You’re gonna be a mess down there.

Haechan just smiles. “You’re not making me do anything I don’t want to do. This isn’t gross, which I know you’re worried about. It’s hot. I promise.”

You let your fingers go loose around his wrist, but Haechan waits until you nod, until you murmur, “Keep going,” for him to move again. He pulls your panties down, and you wish you could say that it was super weird and uncomfortable to have your boyfriend’s hand between your thighs removing your hygiene product. It should feel awkward as Haechan does that, but looking down at his face as he looks up at you while smoothly doing just that, you’re just lost in the moment.

Haechan climbs off the bed for a moment, walking over to the en-suite bathroom. You don’t even want to think about the fact that he’s going in there to dispose of your used sanitary product, because if you think about that for even a second you’ll be too embarrassed. So you think about the sound of Haechan rummaging around in the bathroom for a moment, and when he comes back, he’s brought a condom with him.

“For a little more ease of cleanup,” he explains. “I don’t want to have to clean period blood off my dick. No offense.” He’s teasing, but you groan and cover your face with your hands. Haechan laughs, reaching for your wrists to pry your hands away. “I’m only joking, babe. Do you still want to keep going?”

Of course you do. You’re a bit embarrassed, but more than that, you’re still incredibly horny.

“Yes, I want to keep going.”

You eagerly pull Haechan back between your legs, barely waiting for him to stop and roll the condom down his length. But then he’s there, and he’s sinking into you, and you forget everything else. You forget your headache, your cramps, your hunger. You forget every mood other than just this — the arousal, the love, the endless need to just have Haechan.

You can’t even say that it’s weird or all that different to be having sex while on your period. Haechan doesn’t make it weird, so it’s not weird. And even if there is some slight discomfort for a moment, it goes away, quickly overcome because of Haechan’s hard-earned knowledge of what you like. Sure, it’s a little messy, and you’re glad you put the towel down, but it’s not the massacre you’d been imagining. It’s as wonderful as you could’ve hoped for.

“See, no problem,” Haechan had told you afterward.

You continue exploring kinks and fetishes, trying things out, falling deeper in love with Haechan, in awe of this pervert who loves you and you love in return.

You never have to question if you love him. It’s just something innate, something you know as well as if it were just always a part of you, just built into your DNA. And you know he loves you too. Haechan doesn’t miss any opportunity to tell you so, not since the first time you said it to each other. You don’t question it.

As spring begins to bridge into summer in May, there are questions.

Your lease on your apartment is about up. Haechan’s is up at the end of June. So the question of moving in together properly comes up. And with that comes more talking, discussing, theorizing and dreaming and just lots and lots of future-talk. Talks about wants and desires.

One day during May, you’re shopping together, looking for new clothes to wear on the trip you’ve planned to take with your friends in July. The shopping center you’re in is busy, full of other couples, of young families. The shops all have vibrant, summery displays and bold signage announcing sales.

You pass by a nice menswear shop, their window display showcasing a stunning tuxedo and a row of groomsmen in dapper suits.

“I want to get married,” Haechan says casually as you pass the shop together. “I’ve always thought that I can’t wait to be a husband and a father someday. I’ve never given too much thought to the actual details, honestly, like the wedding or any of that. But being a husband, having a family, being a dad…” He smiles brightly, then says, “I want to raise a kid who knows that I’ll always be there for them, love and support them unconditionally. What about you?”

You’ve talked about kids with Haechan before. In vague terms. Like when you would be out together and see a baby or little kid, commenting on the kid being adorable, laughing at their behavior. When a coworker had a baby and she brought it into the office to visit, you’d both taken turns holding the baby and talked about it later.

But you’ve never really talked about wanting kids. More specifically, you’ve never really talked about wanting to have kids together.

You certainly never told him about your mom’s comment from just after they first met him, the comment about wanting cute grandbabies from you and him. It’s a comment she’s reiterated a few more times to you since then.

Haechan is looking at you, waiting for you to say something.

“I think most girls dream of their wedding, a spouse, a family. I used to look up wedding dresses online when I was still far too small to even know what kind of dress I could fit into someday. I would picture my celebrity crushes waiting for me at the end of the aisle, flower petals cascading from the sky.” You laugh, and Haechan smiles right along with you. “I used to think up lists of baby names and imagine what it would be like to hold a little life in my arms that I’d created.”

You wonder if Haechan notices all the past tense in the way you’re speaking. The hesitance when you speak of children.

Babies used to be something you were once so certain of. When you were young, before your eyes had been entirely opened to the world, it wasn’t something you ever thought twice about. Of course you would someday have babies. Why wouldn’t you?

But growing up meant seeing things from different perspectives, having realities laid out before you. Some people couldn’t have babies, some people chose not to have them. Sometimes terrible things happen. Sometimes pregnancy can feel alienating. You’d heard of childbirth as a blessing and a curse from friends, coworkers, acquaintances over the years, and as time passed, as you moved through your life and reached the point in time in which having a child would be appropriate, you still weren’t sure what you wanted.

Did you hope to become a mom? Did you want to carry a child if you could? Having a child in your life, especially with the right person beside you was an obvious yes, but sometimes you weren’t entirely sure if carrying a child was the right option for you; maybe you would give birth someday, maybe you would adopt, or maybe it just wasn’t in the cards for you.

Right then, with Haechan still looking at you, you only know that you want him.

Always.

Everything else can wait.

“I don’t mean any of this right now, by the way,” Haechan clarifies a few moments later. “Just… putting it out there.”

And you felt the usual sunshine-warm glow in your chest, thinking that this conversation was a good sign. These future talks you’d been having were a good sign.

The thought of getting married to Haechan makes you giddy. Is he thinking of marrying you too? Is he making plans, and that’s why he’d mentioned it?

You wrap yourself in that warm feeling and let it carry you through the next few days.

Work is busy throughout the month of May. So busy that you don’t get to see much of Haechan inside or outside of work. You have to travel abroad for research purposes, and the distance makes your heart ache. You hate being apart from Haechan, hate that you’re stuck in another country with only Johnny as a companion for two weeks in the middle of the month.

Long distance isn’t really anything you’ve had to try before, but you try to make it work. You call Haechan, he calls you; you exchange messages as often as you can. But there’s a time difference, which means that he’s often asleep while you’re awake, or you’re bogged down with work when he’s free.

“I miss you,” you sigh over the phone late one night once you’re tucked back in your hotel room for the night.

It’s eleven o’clock at night in London where you are, but it’s early back in Seoul, and you know your call probably woke Haechan up. He just mumbles something sleepily into the phone.

“I’m back at the end of the week.” You fight back a yawn. “I’m thinking of taking the week of your birthday off, honestly, because I’m sick of seeing Johnny’s face.”

That at least draws a little laugh from Haechan. “I’m already taking that week off,” he murmurs, “Take it off with me.”

“Should I?”

Haechan hums a small sound of agreement.

“If I do take it off, what should we do? Should we take a trip together? Get out of the city for the week?” You cradle the phone against your cheek, trying your best to not look at the time displayed on the clock sitting on the bedside table. You have to be awake in a few hours for a breakfast business meeting, but you want to have a moment with Haechan.

Haechan is quiet for a few seconds too long, and you wonder if he’s fallen back asleep.

“Hyuck?” You keep your voice soft, just in case.

“Uh, I’m not sure about any plans yet.” He clears his throat. “I don’t…. I don’t know. Listen, I’ve gotta go. I just realized the time and remembered that I’m supposed to head into the office early today.”

Abruptly, he ends the call.

Weird.

You try not to dwell on it too much as you settle in to sleep. You try not to let the memory of it bother you in the morning, or throughout the rest of the day. But it’s difficult to brush off the weirdness of Haechan’s behavior ending that phone call when his behavior over the last few days of your business trip is weird too. Long gaps between responses to your messages, excuses to not answer your phone calls.

And finally, at the end of the week, you and Johnny fly back to Seoul.

Haechan picks you up from the airport, sitting there waiting in a pick-up zone. He waves at Johnny cheerily enough as your coworker heads off for his own pick-up. He kisses you like he’s never missed anyone more, and he holds your hand the entire drive back to your apartment, listening to you chatter about the two weeks you were gone in Dubai.

“Oh, and Taeil approved my days off!” As he pulls in to park, the words fall out of you excitedly, and you squeeze his hand. “So whatever you want to do for your birthday, babe, let’s do it!”

Haechan’s fingers wiggle against yours. He looks around, checking his mirrors as if to make sure that he’s within the lines. “That’s good, baby,” is all he says. His eyes dart towards yours and then away again, and he withdraws his hand from yours to turn the car off.

Odd.

You continue to try not to let it bother you.

You try to ignore it, to just pretend like Haechan isn’t acting distant over the next few days. You tell yourself that it’s just the stress of work because in this interim week between your trip and his birthday week, Haechan has several important meetings and three separate project deadlines. Obviously, that is where the majority of his focus is all week, and that’s why when you ask him to come look at a new apartment availability with you, he tells you that he can’t.

You look forward to Thursday. His heavy workload — the last big meeting and project presentation of his falls on Thursday, so he should feel that relief and hopefully get over this strange distance that has grown between you this week.

After Thursday, it’s just Friday, which should be smooth sailing right into the weekend, and then, luckily, it will be Haechan’s birthday week, the exact day landing on Tuesday. You’re ready to spend the week with him, to give him a birthday to remember.

Thursday evening as you finish up in the office, you make up your mind to go over to Haechan’s tonight.

You’re going to pick up some food on your way. You’re going to shower and steal some of his comfiest clothes (although you do have a decent amount of your own clothes stored at his apartment) and eat together while you watch a drama. You’re going to start this weekend a little early with relaxation tonight, and you’ll take it easy tomorrow.

He’s already home by the time you’re leaving the office (a call with the team in Dubai meant hanging around the office a little bit later than you’d have really liked), and when you arrive at Haechan and YangYang’s apartment, he’s in his bedroom, playing games online.

Haechan offers up his cheek for you to kiss, hums an acknowledgement when you mention that you brought dinner but you want to shower first, and then you notice the way his eyes keep darting away from the game he’s playing to follow you around his bedroom as you strip on your way to the bathroom that’s not even connected to his bedroom.

And several minutes later when you return, he’s done playing the game, but he’s still sitting in the desk chair, on his phone.

Again, you notice his eyes following you as you move around. You notice the way his lips part when you drop the towel you’d had wrapped around you, the way he can’t look away as you stride around fully naked towards his closet. He watches you sort through his T-shirts and find one you like. Haechan makes a small throat-clearing noise when you bury your nose in the fabric, breathing in the smell of him before you pull the shirt on over your head.

He sucks in a breath through his teeth when you bend over, flashing him your ass beneath the shirt. You’re maybe doing this bit on purpose, stepping slowly into your panties, sliding them up your legs, all while bent over and showing off your ass and pussy to him.

But when you straighten up and look back at him, Haechan looks away, back down to his phone.

His phone seems to hold a lot of his attention, you notice as the night continues.

You sit out in the living room together on the sofa, eating the food you’d brought, watching a drama together. Or rather, you’re watching the drama while Haechan looks at his phone with an empty sofa cushion between you.

It feels like miles of blank space.

And you can’t pretend anymore that you’re not bothered.

Usually Haechan would be the first one to close that gap, unable to resist touching you. He would usually have to have a hand on your bare thigh or his arm around your shoulders to brush his fingers up and down your upper arm. He would have to pull you into his side or against his chest or drag you down so you’re both lying down with him spooning you from behind.

But tonight.

It’s you, him, and his phone.

You sigh loud enough it should’ve caught his attention.

He taps his fingers against the back of his phone, glances up at the drama playing, and then looks right back to his phone.

The longer this goes on, the more you feel like he’s just avoiding you. The more you begin to think that maybe the distance between you this last week and a half hasn’t solely been because of work. But what is it? Is there something on his mind that he just isn’t telling you? His silent distance, specifically his distraction with his phone, bothers you more and more the longer it goes on. One episode ends and a new one begins, and Haechan is still looking at his phone, still ignoring the heavy way you sigh in a subtle grab for his attention.

You begin reading into the silence, seeking answers, seeking attention.

So you do the one thing you know will grab Haechan’s attention and hold it.

Sex.

Haechan is slouched down on the opposite end of the sofa from you, his head propped up on a throw pillow against the arm of the sofa. His phone still holds his attention, but as you climb forward, climbing up the length of his legs, Haechan looks up at you.

At last.

“What’re you doing?” His smile grows slowly.

“I think it’s pretty clear,” you tell him, coming up to straddle his hips, sitting down right in his lap. You slide your hands up his chest. “I had my dinner, now I want dessert. I want you, Haechan.”

Haechan tsks at you. His phone calls to the side, forgotten on the cushion at his shoulder.

“Always horny, aren’t you, my love? What am I to do with you? Just give you what you want?” As he says it, Haechan reaches for your thighs, smoothly dragging you from your spot in his lap now up his chest while he slides even lower to be lying flat on his back. “Baby, maybe I want a taste of my dessert,” he croons, his hands making quick work of pushing up the oversized shirt of his that you’re wearing.

His hands are on your chest before you can get a word out. His fingers tease your nipples, palms warm against the softness of your breasts.

His phone vibrates at your knee. Once, twice, a third time.

Haechan is finally distracted by you and doesn’t seem to notice the notifications lighting up his phone screen. But you do. Who is texting him?

You risk a glance towards the illuminated screen, and see a cluster of message notifications. For a split second, your heart does a weird flippy floppy act, and then you read the name at the top of the notifications: Eomma-ya.

His mom.

Another one comes in, but you can’t read the messages themselves, and at this point you don’t need to. It’s not any of your business, and you relax, letting some of the tension ease out of you, your body reacting eagerly to Haechan’s touches now that your worries have been somewhat assuaged in knowing that it’s just his mom that he’s been messaging.

Haechan, all of his focus on you now, pinches one of your nipples in a way that sends a jolt of lusty heat right down to your core.

You whimper quietly, just “Haechan” before all words melt on your tongue when Haechan drags your panties to the side and starts touching you. His fingers tease along your slit, never giving you quite what you want. He keeps it going until you’re dripping, arousal clinging to his fingers, a few drops leaking down to dampen the front of his shirt. And all the while he’s doing this, Haechan watches you with this amused, almost predatory look.

He watches and waits until he can see that you’re right there on the edge of cumming, and he withdraws his hand. He waits a few moments while you whine and squirm on top of him, and then his fingers are back, drawing intense circles on your clit, edging you right back to where you were before but then he backs off again. Several times he does this until you’re actually starting to get pissed off, but then instead of pulling his hands away from you, he slides down fully onto his back on the sofa, and Haechan drags you up until you’re straddling his face.

“Go on, baby. Take what you want.” Haechan licks his lips as he says it, and then he leaves his mouth parted, pink tongue laying against his plush lips.

There’s only one thing you want in that moment and it’s to sit on his face and ride his tongue until your body goes numb from the overstimulation of orgasming. You want to cry his name, to squirt on his tongue, to leave your taste in his mouth for days.

Haechan moans when you sit on him, his arms wrap around you, holding you against his mouth as he eats you out, as you ride his tongue.

You alternate between tugging at Haechan’s hair (which only makes him moan exaggeratedly against your pussy) or clenching your hands in the shirt you’re wearing. Occasionally, you’ll look down and find Haechan already watching you, his dark eyes drinking in the awed look of pleasure on your face, or staring at your tits if you’ve got your shirt lifted that high. All you know is you feel high, electric, like your body and the entire world are just static, and each stroke of Haechan’s tongue is a shock to your system in the best way.

Your first orgasm feels weak, just a pulse of sweetness, barely enough for you to really feel before Haechan is doubling down, hands gripping your thighs to pull you down more heavily onto his face. Like he wants you to just suffocate him like this.

He doesn’t slow down at all, moaning against you as the taste of you continues to leak across his tongue, and you can’t help yourself as you essentially fuck his face, rocking your hips to feel his nose against your clit and his tongue buried deep inside you.

He’s moaning and you’re moaning, and it’s no wonder that neither of you hear the door to his apartment open until it’s too late, until YangYang is standing there in the door just staring at you losing control of yourself as another orgasm — this one so much more intense and fantastic — crashes through you.

He watches, and you notice him, but you decide not to pay him any attention. He can stay or he can leave, it really doesn’t bother you either way.

Haechan’s fingers only slightly loosen the tight hold on your thighs as he licks you through your orgasm. His cheeks are sticky against your thighs, lips sliding against your labia from where you’d squirted. You easily slide backwards, collapsing to sit on his belly. You let your shirt fall down to cover your panties again, and you push your fingers into Haechan’s hair, lower your head to his, and you kiss him, not caring about the mess you’d made on his face. You can taste yourself, but you don’t care, and besides, it seems like Haechan likes that.

Somewhere, YangYang clears his throat.

“Stay or leave, dude,” Haechan mumbles against your lips, the words just loud enough for YangYang to hear. “We’re not stopping.”

You don’t know what decision YangYang makes. You don’t hear anything to indicate one choice or the other, and you don’t look around the room either. You just sink against Haechan, sucking on his tongue, at his bottom lip, using your tongue to clean the taste of yourself from his chin.

Haechan twists you beneath him so he’s on top, pressing you into the sofa, and he peels your shirt off, tossing it over the back of the sofa, and then he has unrestricted access to your chest. Haechan attacks your tits with lips and teeth, his hands giving attention where his mouth doesn’t.

It’s all a hot blur of lips and skin and teeth and high heat when Haechan’s pants disappear between one breath and the next, your bodies colliding, and his cock filling you smoothly and perfectly. You clutch at his shoulders and bite at his neck while he fits into you, and you arch against him, trying to pull him closer, wanting him to smother you now between the somewhat rough material of the sofa and the smooth press of his skin.

At one point, he pulls away from you, and you sit up to follow, letting him manhandle you around onto your knees, facing the arm of the sofa as he fits himself against you from behind. He grips your arms up by your shoulders, and the way Haechan thrusts into you is so deep and rough that your teeth clack together and tears burn in your eyes, but you love it. You love the raw passion as he fucks you, and the way that he soon wraps his arms around you, drawing your back to his chest as he rolls his hips forward, dragging his cock in this gliding motion inside you, a slow, smooth pull in your belly that has you cumming again.

Haechan mouths at your throat while your walls pulse around his cock. You can feel sweat clinging to your skin, both from yourself and from him. His tongue drags up the line of your throat, from the base all the way up to just beneath your ear.

When Haechan takes your earlobe between his teeth, a pathetic sound spills out of you, one that you’re not even sure where it came from because you’ve never heard that sound before.

“He’s still watching,” Haechan whispers, his words right against your ear. “YangYang pretended like he just went to his room, but the door is still cracked open, and he probably doesn’t know that I can see his shadow pressed up against the door, watching.”

Your eyes flash open, shooting a look right towards YangYang’s door. It does stand partially ajar, but you couldn’t say if YangYang is standing there or not. He could just be making it up for your benefit, knowing how much you love the idea of being watched, how long it’s been since the two of you did something even slightly exhibitionist.

One of Haechan’s hands slides up to your throat, his skin burning against yours as he applies the perfect amount of pressure. “I don’t care if he watches,” Haechan growls, “Just so long as he knows who you belong to. Just as long as he knows this is just a pretty show, a one time ticket to view. Because whose are you, angel?”

His hand releases a little, and you breathe in deeply, more than happy to profess, “I’m yours,” with a sigh.

“Good girl.” Haechan brushes a kiss to your cheek. “Say it again.”

“I’m yours, Haechan.”

He lets you fall forward. Your ass is still lifted, but your cheek rests against the arm of the sofa as Haechan keeps thrusting forward, and you can feel yet another orgasm building inside you, the heat swelling in your belly as a tingling sensation spreads.

“That’s right, baby. We were made for each other. You’re mine.” He rolls his hips forward, grinding his cock in deep, a hand flat on your tailbone. “Fuck, say it for me?”

“I’m yours,” you whimper, already feeling the druglike pull of your orgasm as your vision whites out.

Haechan keeps moving, his movements speeding up as he races to follow you to his orgasm, and as soon as you realize that, a bolt of panic passes through you.

You lift onto your elbows. “Pull out! Pull out,” you moan, pulling yourself forward off his cock even as Haechan jerks backwards.

Your pussy clenches uselessly around nothing as Haechan’s cock leaves you, but a second later you feel the warm streaks of his cum paint your lower back, his moans accompanying the sensation.

Haechan falls over you, his weight only there for a moment before he’s shifting onto his side, his arms wrapped around you to pull you back against him. From this position, you have a clear look at YangYang’s door again. Now, it’s clearly shut.

“God, I’m glad we did that,” you sigh, “I was tired of you ignoring me for your phone. What was so interesting anyway?” You ask with a laugh, trying to keep it sounding lighthearted as you reach up to push your fingers into Haechan’s hair.

He tucks his face between your neck and your shoulder, humming a noncommittal sound. He just holds you like that for a little while until you swear it feels like your heartbeats and your breathing have synced with each other. It’s only after several minutes that he lifts his face from your neck.

“I’m going to tell you something, and I don’t want you to be angry,” he says.

Already, not off to a great start.

You tense up, holding your breath. A feeling like an ice cold rod sets itself rigid down your spine. Why does he sound so serious? He was just texting his mom; you saw the new messages coming in from her, so what about that could make you angry? What is he going to say?

Haechan sighs, lowering his chin to rest on the curve of your shoulder. “I’m going home for a bit, a few days,” Haechan tells you, “To Jeju. My mom still lives there, and she wants me to come visit for my birthday this weekend.”

You almost let out a sigh of relief. You know that he can probably see the way that you actually relax, shoulders sinking down now with ease into the cushions. He’s just going to go visit his family for his birthday, and it’s probably about time. He’s told you about them, and you know he hadn’t seen them in a while.

It’s a good thing.

“Why would I be angry about that?” You lift a hand up to touch his hair as he lowers his mouth against your shoulder.

Of course, you wanted to spend his birthday with him. His first birthday while you’ve been together like this, but if he was going out of town and just wanted to spend time with his family, you understand.

“You took the week off,” Haechan says slowly. “You took it off at least in part because it’s my birthday. You wanted to make plans, but now my mom wants to decide on some different plans.”

You nod, wondering if that was all he had to say. That’s nothing big. Is this why he’s been distant since last week when you mentioned making plans for his birthday week? Had he already known that his mom wanted him to visit? Was he worried you were going to be upset that he’s going to Jeju? Or maybe he’s wanting to ask you to come along, to finally meet his family? The fact that he’s not saying anything, although you can almost hear his mind silently buzzing with unspoken words, reinforces your theory a bit.

But if he’s not going to ask then you will.

“When do I finally get to meet your family anyway?” You twist around to face him, trailing your fingers up his chest.

Haechan grabs your hand, pulling it away from where you reached his face. He clears his throat and looks over your shoulder into the middle-distance.

“What?” You laugh, twirling your fingers with his.

Haechan clears his throat again. Opens his mouth. Closes it. He mumbles, “I’m going to tell you something else. Please don’t be angry.”

The fact that he’s repeating that plea doesn’t bode well at all.

“Donghyuck?” An uncomfortable weight begins to settle through your belly. What’s his deal right now?

Silence for a beat.

He swallows hard.

“I haven’t told my family about you. That we’re… together. They don’t know I’m seeing anyone at all,” he blurts. And then as an afterthought, he tacks on, “Like I said, please don’t be angry.”

Don’t be angry.

Are you angry?

The feelings flooding through you don’t quite feel like anger — not that bright, burning bite of emotion — but something heavier and deeper, something that slides through your veins like an oil slick.

What does he mean he hasn’t told them about you? That they don’t know that you’re…. Together. And the way he’d hesitated when he said that?! What does that mean?

He’s your boyfriend! So what was with the hesitation?

You’re almost living together. Spending pretty much every single night together at one apartment or the other, with plans to find an apartment — and now you remember him backing out of the apartment viewing you’d found the other day — and move in together. He’s met your family, who adore him. You’ve talked about the future: marriage, family, kids, and dreams.

You’re in love with him and he often tells you he loves you, too.

But Haechan hasn’t even mentioned your relationship to his family.

You can’t believe it.

You draw yourself away from him, lifting yourself off the sofa.

“Are you mad?” Haechan asks again. You feel his fingertips brush against your tailbone.

“Am I mad? Are you fucking kidding, Haechan?” Ah, there you can feel a bit of anger flickering to life in your sternum, catching at the tail ends of your words.

Haechan can’t even look you in the eye as you stand above him.

“You haven’t told them about me? Can I ask why?” You’re trying to tame the anger in your voice, to keep that fiery heat from swelling inside you to an inferno, but it’s not working. “Is it because of me? You don’t actually want to be with me?”

“That’s stupid, of course that’s not it!” Haechan stares up at you, shock in his eyes before he looks away again, down at his hands. “I haven’t told them about you, about us, because I don’t want them to judge.”

And that only incenses you further.

The sound that leaves you is anger, frustration, and hurt all blended into one. A scream and a shout, a cry as you search the floor for the shirt of his you’d borrowed earlier.

You find it halfway tucked beneath the end of the sofa, and you snatch it up, drag it on.

“You don’t want your family to judge me? Fine. I guess it seems that you’ve already decided that they’ll find me lacking.” You know you’re shouting, but you can’t help it. Tears sting at your eyes, burning as the words fly from your mouth. “Fuck you, Lee Donghyuck.”

Behind you, there’s the sound of a door opening, and then YangYang’s voice asking, “What’s going on?”

You snort, spinning around to head for Haechan’s room, leaving him and YangYang behind in the living room. You can hear them speaking as you dig around in Haechan’s room for a clean pair of pants for you to wear.

When you walk back out a moment later, your bag on your shoulder, both of the men turn to look at you.

“Where are you going?” Haechan asks.

“I’m fucking leaving.” You stride past him.

“Fuck, Haechan,” YangYang groans. “I told you not to fuck things up with her! What the hell did you do?”

Before you reach the door, Haechan calls out your name. You pause, hand reaching for the door handle, waiting, but he doesn’t say anything else, and you don’t turn to look at him.

You wait, seconds tuck by, and still he remains silent behind you.

He can’t even ask you to stay? Not even that?

You open the door, and you leave.

Haechan doesn’t follow.

Friday morning, you call in sick to work.

In a way, you are sick.

You don’t want to see Haechan today, but at the same time you don’t not want to see him either. The two conflicting desires leave your stomach in knots.

He’s going to leave for Jeju today, spend the whole weekend and his birthday there with his family and not thinking about you. And you already know you’re going to spend the whole week only thinking of him. Maybe you’ll get drunk tonight and tomorrow and Sunday too. Or maybe every day of the week, since you’ve got the whole thing. Maybe you’ll drink until you can forget that Haechan doesn’t love you as much as you thought he did, that he must not actually dream of a future with you even though you’ve both talked about it.

You spent the whole night crying and choking down a quart of ice cream with your roommate and her partner comforting you.

You miss Haechan.

It’s been twelve hours and you miss him because you never argue with him and then don’t immediately make up. You’ve had big fights, but up until last night you’ve always made up shortly after. You’ve lived by the rule of never going to bed angry.

But last night you were angry and upset when you finally fell asleep, clutching your phone and wondering why he hasn’t called or texted.

Friday morning ticks by and you mope in bed, glancing at the clock, knowing you should get up, that you should shower and eat. But you can’t.

You ignore a call from Yuta at work, ignore a couple texts from YangYang. You consider letting your phone just die or putting it on do not disturb, but you can’t deny that you’re really hoping that one time when the phone rings or buzzes with a message notification that it’ll be Haechan.

He really just let you walk out of there last night.

He really hasn't told his family about you.

You roll over and hide your face in your pillow.

Some time later, a series of buzzes from your phone draws you out of the light doze you sank into. Your heart lifts, and when you check the screen you see….

YangYang.

What does he want? Why is he calling?

“Mm?” Is all the sound you can muster when you deign to answer the call.

“Hello?” YangYang says. “Are you there?”

“What, YangYang?” You hate the way your voice sounds right then. Like it’s clear that you’ve been crying all night and periodically over the past few hours.

You can hear YangYang walking around, trying not to make noise. And then he whispers, “I think you should come over here. He’s about to leave for the weekend.”

“Excuse me?” What exactly is YangYang asking you? Does he think that because he watched the two of you last night, because you let him watch last night, because you and Haechan had a big fight last night that you’ll just sneak over there to hook up with him as soon as Haechan leaves for a few days?

“What?” YangYang asks, and then a brief pause before he exclaims, “Oh! No, like…. I don’t mean….” He sighs, then clarifies, “I really think you should come over here, and Haechan is about to leave for Jeju, and I think you should go with him. He told me last night after you left what the real problem was. I thought you’d just finally found out what a freak he is, but he assured me that you know and you don’t care. That he’s just a fucking idiot who hasn’t told his mom that you’re his girlfriend. There's an obvious solution here.”

You grunt in acknowledgement. “But you’re the one asking me, not him.”

“Just come over.” YangYang’s tone doesn’t leave much room for arguing. “He’s an idiot, but surely you knew that before you started dating him. Come over, talk to him, and go with him.”

“I’m hanging up,” you force the words out just a split second before you end the call on YangYang.

You lie there for a few minutes, holding your phone, staring up at the ceiling. Thinking.

Is Haechan, like, fucking embarrassed to be with you? Is that why he hasn’t told his family about you? Why would you want to show up right before he leaves on that trip, to argue with him some more about it? You don’t want to ruin his trip, even if you are upset with him right now.

And why should you go without him making any sign of apology first? It’s YangYang reaching out to you, not Haechan, and that doesn’t feel right either. If Haechan isn’t going to make the effort to say that he’s sorry, that he sees the wrong he’s done in this situation, then why should you put in the effort?

You lie there for a little while longer, turning your phone over and over in your hands.

Your phone buzzes with a message, and you turn it over quickly just to see that it’s a message from YangYang.

“Don’t know if you’re on your way over, but he just left.”

Your heart does a strange tumble in your chest.

Not that you were really thinking about going over there, but it gives you a strange feeling to know that it’s not an option anymore. Haechan is gone, on his way to Jeju island.

But something about that is the impetus you needed, and you finally lug yourself out of bed and into the shower.

Maybe you should just text Haechan, you think as you massage your shampoo through your hair. Just open up that pathway with him so he knows you’re not totally pissed off to the point that you want to break up. Because you definitely don’t want to break up with him. He’s Haechan, the love of your life.

You spend the rest of your shower drafting up different versions of the message you want to send him, so as soon as you step out of the shower, you reach for your phone, ready to send the message.

But then you see you have several notifications. A couple texts. Three missed calls.

All from Haechan.

Then, somewhat muffled by distance, you hear a thud and your phone rings again. Haechan.

And the thudding noise again, but you now recognize it as knocking on your apartment door.

You don’t even bother to dry off. Instead, you just wrap the towel around you and beeline straight for the front door. The knocking continues as you approach.

Through the peephole you can see Haechan standing there, his phone pressed to his ear while he knocks with the other hand. You can see his lips moving, and through the door you hear his muffled voice saying, “Come on, please. Please don’t just ignore me, baby.”

Your phone rings again in your hand.

Haechan drops his head against the door.

The moment you touch the deadbolt, Haechan straightens up, and when you pull the door open a few inches, you can see him standing there and looking at you with heavy emotions weighing down the corners of his mouth.

“What, Donghyuck?”

His lips, which had begun to lift into a smile, sink once more. You know he doesn’t like when you use his real name, especially not when the tone you say it in is sharp and hard, not at all softened by a smile as it usually is with him.

His eyebrows furrow together a bit. “I’m sorry. I came here to say I’m sorry. All last night after you left, I kept thinking about you, about how I made a mistake. How I wanted to get out of bed and come over here to apologize and make things right. But I figured that you wouldn’t want to see me.”

Frankly, if he’d shown up last night, you probably wouldn’t have even granted him the courtesy of opening your door even this much. But right now you open it a few inches more, with your body barring the way.

“Do you realize how much it hurt me to hear you say that, Haechan? To realize that I love you so much, that all of our friends and my family know that we’re together, that you and I have discussed the future and have made tentative plans to move into a place together, but you haven’t even told your family that I hold even a small place in your mind? That makes me feel like shit, Haechan. How am I supposed to take anything you say seriously now? Do you mean it when you tell me you love me? Do you really want to move in together? Do you mean it when you tell me about how much you want to get married and be a dad, and if you do mean it, do you mean you want it with me?”

Silence follows your words for a moment. Haechan stands there in front of you, wringing his hands together.

“I’m an idiot,” he says finally. “I just… I know I should’ve told them about you. But there’s some things that I just want to hold close, and you’re one of them. Because I’m embarrassed. Not by you!” He quickly says, looking up at you with wide eyes. “I’ve never…. I’ve never brought anyone home before. They’ve never met anyone I’ve been in a relationship with, never seen me with anyone in a romantic way. That’s what I’m embarrassed about. They’ve never seen this side of me, this totally over-the-top in love side. Not to mention that I’m embarrassed by how for years we were just friends, but when I realized I had feelings for you, I fell so hard and fast.”

“You are an idiot,” you agree. “Do you think it wasn’t embarrassing for me? To have my family walk in on us? To have to introduce them to you minutes later? As soon as I told them your name, I could tell that they were laughing because for years, Haechan, I’d been talking about you. My mom teases me about it later that night. But never once, not for one minute, did I think it would be too embarrassing for them to know that I was dating you, that I’m in love with you.”

Haechan lowers his head.

You tighten your hold on the towel you’re clutching around yourself. “But you have to see this from my side, right? You’ve been telling me that you love me, but then you tell me that I’m a huge secret from your family, they’ve never heard about me. You have to see how I would take that, don’t you? How I would hear that and believe that I’m nothing more than a fun fuck for you, a way for you to get kinky?”

“No,” Haechan interjects. “No, you’re not that. You have to know that.”

The way he’s staring at you tears at your heart. You’ve pretty much already forgiven him. You don’t want to be mad at him, after all, and he’s made this effort to come here and apologize. But, you’d like to see him grovel a little longer.

Haechan says, “I was just embarrassed to realize I was so dumb and blind for so long, to go from telling myself that all the feelings I had for you were only friendly to suddenly being so in love with you and wanting you so much that it hurt me to watch anyone else touch you or look at you for too long. I love you, I want you. I want to live with you and be in love with you for the rest of our lives. But I need you to forgive me for being ridiculous. There’s really only one way to make things right, isn’t there?”

Haechan takes a half-step backwards.

Your heart lurches in your chest as he begins to sink down on one knee.

You open the door fully now, staring in unmitigated shock at Haechan as he lowers himself down.

“Lee Donghyuck—“ Your tone is one of warning.

He glances up at you. His lips tilt into a smirk, and he drops the other knee so that he’s just kneeling on the floor in front of your door. He folds his hands together, looks up at you with amusement lighting his eyes, hands lifted in a pleading manner as he begs, “Will you please forgive me, baby? My angel? Forgive me and come with me this weekend. Come meet my family.”

With a groan, you reach over and shove at his shoulder.

Haechan laughs, dropping down to sit on his ankles.

“You’re a dick,” you whine.

“What? Did you think I was going to ask something else?” Haechan laughs, still looking up at you.

You simply roll your eyes at him, turn around and walk away into your apartment, leaving the door open behind you.

Haechan calls out after you, “What’s your answer?”

“Just come inside!” You’re already walking into your bedroom, already reaching for a bag and some clothes. You hear the apartment door close, and then the sound of his footsteps crossing the floor. “Are you at least going to give your mom a heads up that you’re bringing someone with you?”

Haechan leans in your doorway, watching as you collect clothes and fold them nicely into your bag. He hums a little sound, “I may have called her earlier. I told her that I’ve been seeing a girl, and she asked me a thousand questions about you, and I told her that you’re coming home with me this weekend, so she’ll be able to ask you everything.”

“And what if I’d told you no? What if I really was ignoring you and just never answered?” You glance over at him, and Haechan is just watching you with this gentle smile.

“I didn’t want to even consider that possibility,” Haechan says with a shake of his head.

You walk away to your bathroom, gathering your toiletries together.

While you’re in there, Haechan says, “I love you, you know that, right? Like, I’m so in love with you, I’m sure I’m gonna catch shit about it this weekend from my mom and my siblings. They’re gonna tease the hell out of me, especially once my mom realizes who you are. Like I said yesterday, and never really got the chance to explain, I feel like there’s gonna be some judgment this weekend.”

You pop your head back out of the bathroom. Yes, that statement from him the night before had certainly triggered some of the more heated emotions that sent you walking out of his apartment. So right now, hearing it again, you can’t help asking, “And what does that mean?”

“Nothing bad.” Haechan rolls his eyes with a good-natured smile. “You’re wonderful. I don’t think they would find you lacking. If anything, they’re going to judge me against you and wonder why the hell you would put up with me.”

That’s bullshit. “As if. Haechan, you’re perfect. I’ve heard the way you talk about your mom, and I know you, so there’s no way that she doesn’t believe you’re perfect.”

Haechan snorts. “I know you think I’m perfect, angel, but not everyone feels the same. Especially not when you’re there with all of your… you-ness.”

“Meaning what exactly?” What does your you-ness mean? Is it a compliment?

Haechan stands there for a moment as you emerge from the bathroom to pack your toiletries into your bag, and you can see him mulling over the words, rolling them around in his mind and on his tongue for a moment before he finally lets them out.

“You are perfect. Like actually. I’m good at imitating perfection maybe, but you just… are.” Haechan sighs suddenly. “Everything about you just fits into this bubble of perfection in my mind. You’re an angel in my eyes, and I know you know it.”

A warm glow through your chest, melting the last bits of icy bitterness remaining from your fight yesterday.

And you dissolve just a little more when Haechan walks closer, when he clutches one of your hands, bringing it to his chest, against his heart.

He tells you, “You’re beautiful, kind, hard-working and smart. You’re one of the only women in our company, the best in your area, and you just keep excelling. When you got that promotion, oh my God. I’m so proud of you, proud to call myself your boyfriend. You’re living your dream, and I wish I could do that.”

It is your dream to be working this job, to have a successful career in this field. You know that Haechan enjoys his work in this area too, but after that night of your first date, when you’d encouraged him to sing, you’d reawakened his youthful dream of being a singer, one that he hasn’t made much progress towards achieving, though not from lack of trying.

Haechan’s heart beats steadily beneath your hand. He holds your gaze as he continues speaking from the heart.

“I couldn’t possibly find anyone in this world to love me better than you. You’re a daydream, and my favorite wet dream, to put it bluntly. So, yeah. You’re perfect, my angel, and as soon as my family realizes that you’re the one I’ve been telling them about for years now, the friend I met as a freshman, my mom is gonna call me an idiot for waiting so long to realize that I was in love with you.”

That makes you laugh, genuinely laugh from the belly.

You pull your hand away from his chest so you can instead throw your arms around his shoulders and pull him into a tight hug.

“You are an idiot for waiting years to realize that you were in love with me.” You crush yourself against him, unable to disagree with his mom’s hypothetical words. “I had a crush on you from day one, Haechan, and we were friends for so long. It’s only because of you that it took us so long.”

Haechan makes a face. “I don’t know about that.”

You scoff. “It’s true. You were so blind to me for years, and now look at you.” You pull back from the hug so you can see his face. “You’re a total sucker for me, wrapped around my finger.”

A slow-growing smile appears on Haechan’s face. “Oh? I am wrapped around your finger?”

You nod.

Haechan tsks at you. “I think you’re mistaken, angel. You’re the one wrapped around my finger, baby, and sometimes around multiple fingers.” As he says it, Haechan tightens the arm around your waist. He touches his lips to your ear. “You’re often wrapped around my tongue, like last night.” he croons.

You shiver a little, recalling the pleasure of riding his face on the sofa last night. But you don’t have time for that sort of distraction right now. If you’re going to make it to Jeju island today, you should probably be leaving soon.

“Just admit it, baby,” Haechan is still saying, “If one of us will do anything the other asks of them, it’s you.”

Again, you scoff. You push out of his hold. “Why don’t you take my bag while I get dressed.”

You’re still just wearing your towel after the shower. And you don’t think traveling to meet his family in just a towel would give them a very good first impression.

Haechan grins, pecks a kiss to your cheek, grabs your bag, and heads out your bedroom door.

a/n: Haechan in the story is a bit of a dumbass tbh, like??? Just tell your family about the woman that you're literally so in love with!!! But... anyway, you'll get a little bit of his POV in the next chapter about that! You'll also be getting more of totally, fully, completely in love Haechan waxing romantic about Y/N.

I can't believe that next chapter is gonna be the end already, I feel like I just started writing and posting this fic not too long ago!

As always, your likes, reblogs, comments, messages, stream of consciousness thoughts about YIMA are greatly appreciated! Thank you!!

previous chapter || next chapter (Coming Soon)

#haechan smut #nct smut #nct dream smut #nct 127 smut #nct #haechan #lee haechan #lee donghyuck #yima #nct 127 #nct dream #nct 2023

435 notes · View notes

violetsiren90 · 12 days

Text

The Light of Your Eyes

Pairing: best friend's younger brother!Changbin x f!Reader

Genre: one-shot; friends to lovers; smut and fluff; hurt/comfort

Summary: Can the gentle touch of an unexpected pair of hands on your body heal the wounds of your soul?

Content warnings: 18+ (minors, dni), age gap romance (consenting adults); mentions of break-up and unhealthy past relationship dynamics; depression and anxiety symptoms (mild); MC has self esteem struggles, some are body-image related; the ex was low-key emotionally abusive tbh 😒; depictions of alcohol consumption (no drunkenness); depictions of food and eating (MC has a moment of negative thought patterns in regards to food consumption); gaming/watching movies; emotional breakdowns; kissing (so much kissing, guys); Fluffy fluffy FLUFF 💕; making out; interrupted shenanigans; cuddling; shirtless Binnie 👀; strong and gentle Binnie 🥺💘 ; working through FEELINGS 😅 ; breast play; nudity; oral sex (f. receiving); feedbag position; confessions and new beginnings.

Word Count: ~9300

Author's Note: Well, here it is - my first Binnie fic! I wanted to make it as sweet and sexy as he is...which, I know, is impossible, so I gave it my best shot! Hopefully, it's something worthy of his face-claim. I'm not going to make any judgements as to whether I feel it fits the bill, but rather like the man himself, tell you to be the judge of your own opinions! Jutdae!! 😂💗 But in all seriousness, if you decide to read this story, thank you! I hope it brings you something warm and fuzzy!

*The poem at the beginning is an original, and is what inspired this story!

Acknowledgements: I cannot thank @moni-logues enough for beta reading this for me, and for all her hype and humor and general human decency - this story wouldn't be what it is without her! 💖

As always, if no one has told you today, please know that you're loved, and worthy of love! 🧜‍♀️💜

the

Bright color of my laughter and the

Melody of the curve of my hips and the

Soft velvet of my irises

seemed

To have taken their first breath,

Opening gently - like flowers perfuming my soul

- When bathed in the light of your eyes.

"Changbin? What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question," he says with a little smirk, whipping a dish towel over his shoulder as he shuffles back to let you in.

Fair enough, you suppose. You are showing up without notice. Not that you ever need to give his sister any notice - as your best friend, there's a key with all the others in your purse that unlocks the door you're closing behind you. You wouldn't have even knocked had his car not been parked in the driveway.

"Where's Nari?" you ask, glancing at the gaming console hooked up to the massive flat-screen, and a bullet blender cup half filled with something thick, pale and probably protein-packed sitting on the coffee table.

"She went out of town for the weekend," he calls, heading back toward the dining area. "Last minute work thing."

Damn.

Your apartment is boring and barren and lonely. You wanted to hang out. You've been coming around more than usual – almost as often as when you were in grad school together. But Nari had her own life, you understood. You had your own life too.

And then three months ago, on New Years Eve, your long-term boyfriend called it quits. It wasn't as if you were heartbroken. Not really. The relationship had been sick and slowly dying. But returning to a life lived in solitude was proving a difficult adjustment – especially navigating the new and constant stillness which left you the mental space and dexterity to run up against the shadows of wounds unhealed. And you didn't feel like growing into your EQ. You felt like distracting yourself. So you ended up at your bestie's place more often than not, these days.

You sigh, trailing toward the kitchen. You won't stay long - if her younger brother is house sitting, he'll probably have people coming over. It's Friday night, after all, and he's twenty-four years young.

The sound of running water, and music from a little speaker playing a catchy beat laced with fast-paced rap draws you into the warmly-lit, open kitchen. You recognize the voice on the track.

"This new?" you ask, dropping your bag on a barstool and rounding the island to where Changbin is up to his elbows in suds at the sink. He's in a black band tee and bright blue joggers, his curly dark hair unstyled.

He looks over his shoulder and nods.

"What do you think? Wait, no, lemme start it over..."

You smile to yourself as he hastily dries his hands and whips out his phone, pulling the track back to the beginning. He braces himself against the edge of the sink, gnawing on his bottom lip as he bobs his head with the lyrical punches and runs.

You smile to yourself, leaning your back against the counter beside him.

"This is good, Bin," you nod earnestly.

"Yeah?" he asks, returning to his soapy task.

"It really is. Hyunjin's pretty damn fast. Not as fast as you, but who is?"

You grin, bumping your hip into his side.

He smirks down into the bubbles.

He's wanted to make music for as long as you've known him, and even fifteen years ago he could spit out a diss track that would have you wetting yourself laughing. He and his buddy, Hyunjin, met in high school and started messing around with music senior year. They committed to the dream, and both worked full-time gigs - Hyunjin as a tattoo artist and Changbin as a personal trainer - while promoting their artistry in their spare time. Production was a tough road to take when they were counting on nothing but raw talent and guts, but you'd always been an unflinching supporter.

"We've got a gig next Saturday...at The Eight Ball," he remarks, looking over at you as a proud smile presses a tiny dimple into his bread cheek.

"What?!" you squeal, turning to smack him on the arm. "Dude, that's fantastic! Oh my god, congratulations!"

"Thanks, and ouch!" he replies, rubbing his arm with a pout that you ignore. It couldn't possibly have hurt him, not with those biceps.

He moves to the fridge, a grin still plastered on his face.

"You should come!" he urges over his shoulder as he appraises his sister's stash before grabbing an energy drink. "I know the boyfriend isn't into rap, but you could come with Nari..."

You scoff softly.

"Doesn't really matter what he likes anymore," you mumble bitterly.

Changbin freezes as he's about to crack open the beverage in his hand.

"Wait, what? Did you guys...is that over?"

You purse your lips and nod. Changbin looks completely taken off guard in a way that surprises you.

“When did that happen?”

You reach back to clutch at the cold tile of the countertop.

“Beginning of the year.”

He scratches his head.

“Nari didn’t…why didn’t you say something?”

You shrug, your eyes falling. For reasons you'd never considered, you’d rarely brought your ex around or even brought him up to Changbin.

He turns to the still open fridge and swaps out his energy drink for two beers, opening both and sliding one across the island between you.

"How you holding up?" he asks in earnest concern, a little furrow appearing between his dark brows.

You want to tell him that you're fine - it's what you've been telling everyone else - but from the way he holds your gaze before letting his eyes search your face, he's looking for a real answer. You pull your lip between your teeth. You're not ready to form the words that spell the truth. He sees it.

"Ah," he waves dismissively, "Fuck that guy. You're too good for him anyway. What an idiot."

You blink, a little smirk tugging at your lips.

"You don't have to hate on him just because we're-"

"I'm hating on him because I hate him," he stares at you unflinchingly, taking another swig of his beer. "He wasn't good to you, didn't make you happy. I'm glad he's gone. Seriously, fuck him."

You didn't expect that sort of reaction out of Changbin. Not that you expected anything, but the strong, certain tone he took in regards to your ex's unworthiness has a tiny little warmth glowing in your chest. It was like him to feel strongly and take a stand, but to have his conviction aimed at you...

"Thanks, Bin," you murmur softly, hiding your smile behind your beer.

The young man nods, and his lips part as if to speak when his phone buzzes in his pocket. As he answers the call - clearly, from the nature of his greeting, one of his buddies - you're reminded that you’re trespassing on his Friday night. Draining your beer, you grab your bag and slip out of the kitchen.

You huff a little sigh as you pull on your shoes, lingering listlessly for a moment before pulling open the door. The thought of going home has your stomach churning. You can't go back and be alone there.

You can't.

You have to.

How pathetic could you possibly get? you consider sickly, staring out into the darkness. Your self-loathing and mounting anxiety battle for dominance as you will yourself to take the step over the threshold that will carry you to your car…

Click.

The door swishes shut, and you blink in confusion before you note a bulky arm stretched over your shoulder, hand pressed to the wooden frame below the peephole.

You turn into Changbin's frame and he jostles backwards, hand dropping to your shoulder.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asks, a little smirk playing on his lips.

You try to get your bearings as you resurface from the flash flood of inner turmoil, blinking up at him in confusion.

"Uuhh...home?" you answer, jerking a thumb back toward your intended exit.

Changbin shakes his head.

"You just got here."

"Well...I came to see Nari but she's gone, so..."

When the faintest shadow of hurt seems to flicker over his features at your words, you stammer to clarify.

"Bin, it's Friday, I- you've got plans, right? I don't want to be in the way...Like, it's really nice seeing you don't get me wrong, but, it would suck to have one of your sister's random friends underfoot if you're...if..."

You trail off. He's watching you in amusement now, arms crossed and bottom lip pulled between his teeth, one eyebrow cocked just a little higher than the other.

"What?" you press him, now a bit self-conscious at your rambling and still on edge from the surging anxiety of moments ago.

Damn, what was with you? You'd been a mess lately, and now you couldn't even get your words out with Nari's kid brother?

"I do have plans."

Changbin's words interrupt your muddled self-assessment. You glance up at him.

What? Okay, that's what you had been trying to...

"I plan to kick your ass at Super Smash Bros Brawl," he quips, turning to round the couch and settle in front of it before reaching for the blue controller discarded on the coffee table.

Huh?

You watch him start up the game and move through selections. Shuffling toward the back of the couch, you place your hands on it. He wants to hang out? Now that he found out you'd been dumped. Nari's away, so he's falling into stride, you think to yourself. You sigh. You should be grateful. Instead, you feel like a burden.

"Um, Bin..." you murmur, "You don't have to do this..."

"Do what?" he asks without looking back. "I'm not going easy on you, if that's what you mean. And I'm using Kirby - nonnegotiable."

Your heart melts a little as your eyes rest on him. He's always been a good guy, and it was like him to do this sort of thing - look out for someone when they were feeling low. Leaving simply because you don't feel worthy of his care and attention risks hurting him more than you.

You slowly slip out of your shoes and cross into the living room, retrieving a red controller from atop the console before sinking onto the carpet beside him. You toggle through your choices before landing on Link. Changbin glances over at you disparagingly.

"Link sucks."

"Kirby sucks."

"Hey!" Changbin, practically shouts in your ear, "Don't insult my widdle cutie guy..."

You grimace theatrically at the baby talk.

"Don't ever do that again."

"Or what?" Changbin challenges as he immediately unleashes a combo move that has your character hurtling toward the edge of the battle stage.

You hop around, avoiding him and trying out different button combos. It's been forever since you played this game. Your ex had been a Halo enthusiast. You were never big on first person shooters, but you tried to get into it for his sake. He hadn't the patience to help you learn, though, and after a couple of sessions of grimaces and apologies on your behalf mumbled into his headset, he'd stopped taking you up on your offers to join him.

Kirby darts back and forth across the screen after you on stubby pink legs. Eventually you get the hang of things and are returning his attacks, though he easily bests you in an embarrassingly short sequence of moves.

"Sorry, I'm no good at video games," you mumble apologetically.

The smug look falls from Changbin's face.

"Why are you sorry?" he raises a brow, dropping his controller into his lap, a little smile still playing on his lips.

You shrug. His smile fades.

"Who says you're no good?"

Shit.

You shift your focus to the screen and toggle for a new character.

"Best two out of three."

You can feel his eyes still on you as you opt for Princess Peach.

Two out of three turns into five out of eight, and around eleven out of twenty, the doorbell rings. When Changbin turns in surprise toward the sound, you take the opportunity to deliver a critical blow, winning your first match of the night. He rolls his eyes as you giggle wickedly and moves to answer the door.

You pull your phone from your pocket reflexively to check the socials you've deleted, before sighing and tossing it across the room to land on the carpet with a thud.

"Did you just throw your phone?"

Glancing over your shoulder, you catch him shooting you a quizzical look over a stack of pizza boxes tall enough to feed a small army. Clambering to your feet you trail after him into the kitchen.

"You do have plans, you liar!" you elbow him as he opens the top box and pulls out a slice, hissing as the melted cheesy overflow burns the tips of his fingers.

"Ow!" he snaps up a napkin and cradles it under the steaming piece of pizza, shaking his other hand before holding up his fingers in front of you.

"Blow on 'em," he whines.

You raise your eyebrows.

"You're joking."

He pouts and you want to laugh. This big, grown man is seriously going to give you the lip right now?

"That's what you get for having no patience, Bin..." you tsk disapprovingly.

He lets out a little disappointed sigh.

"Meanie..." he grumbles, and lets his hand fall.

You return your focus to the obscene amount of food now stacked on Nari's kitchen table.

"So, I'm sure people are going to start showing up, so I'm just gonna..."

Changbin hands you a paper plate with two slices of pizza and heads to the fridge where he fishes out two more beers. You stare at the plate in your hand.

"I...Bin..."

"What, you don't like sweet potato?" he asks with a smirk, cracking open a can and handing it to you.

You blink at him in confusion.

"Please enjoy this meal compliments of Han Jisung, who never remembers to update the address on his delivery app. Now, load up on pizza and let’s get back to it because I'm not trying to let you act like you came out on top from winning that last match on a fluke."

You scoff at his last remark. Watching him pile several slices onto his plate, you take a bite of yours. It tastes good, and you realize as it hits your stomach that you haven't eaten all day. When was the last time you ate a real meal? When was the last time you wanted one?

"Noona?"

Changbin's voice makes you realize you had zoned out and when you blink up at him, there's just nine inches of disposable dinnerware between you. His lips are pursed and his eyes trace your features, their gaze gentle but searching.

"You alright?" he asks.

There it is again; the concern. He isn't just checking in. His voice is soft and low, like his eyes. As a rule, Changbin's voice is strong, resonant - saying everything from his chest without even trying. So when he's gentle, when he pulls himself back...

"Do you miss that guy?" he murmurs.

"No!"

You say it so quickly.

Changbin nods.

"I'm just..." Fuck, why are you suddenly so emotional? "I think I'm...adjusting. Y'know?"

He nods again slowly. Then he reaches up and touches your face, dragging his thumb over the side of your mouth and suddenly your brain waves flat-line. Your eyes widen and your lips part, but before you can even process what's happening, he drops his hand to swipe it on a napkin.

"Had sauce on your face," he mumbles, and you can't read his.

His mouth is tugged up in a small smile but somehow it looks sad, and his eyes look like they're still asking a question that was never really answered. Before you can consider any further, he picks up his plate and heads back toward the living room.

You follow him, still half in your head.

When you sit down next to him, there's something hanging unspoken in the foot and a half of space between your bodies. Something has shifted, gone taut.

Shit, had you made him uncomfortable? Why had you stared at him like a weirdo when he...wait, he touched you...

Your eyes shift over to where he sits beside you. He runs a hand through the wavy hair over his ear. Has he always been so beautiful? He turns quick enough to catch you staring and you put your plate out of your lap. The pizza smells so good but suddenly you can't touch it.

Changbin initiates another round, which you lose in record time. Your stomach grumbles.

"You better eat if you're going to have any hope of beating me again," he goads, finishing off his third slice to abandon the crust with the others on his plate before launching another game.

"I had enough," you deflect, pushing your plate toward him.

"You took two bites."

"I need to cut back."

"Like...go on a diet?"

"Yeah."

His brows furrow and his tongue slips between his lips as he sends Kirby into a hammer flip that lands as a critical hit and you wince.

"What have you eaten today?"

"What?"

"You heard me."

"I...I don't know. I..."

Your stomach twists. The hunger is there, but so is the anxiety. The fear of being judged for eating too much or too quickly or...

The game pauses. Your plate slides back toward you over the carpet.

"The rest of that piece. Or whatever else you want. But something."

His voice is gentle but firm. You sigh.

"Fine," you murmur, grabbing the half-eaten slice.

You take a bite, and slowly raise your eyes to his as they regard you patiently.

"Sorry," you mumble, covering your mouth, shifting away from him.

"Why now?"

"I make gross noises when I eat."

"What? No you d-"

A hand tugs at your elbow. When you look back toward him his handsome face holds so many things, and you watch as they take turns seizing his features. Horror...pity...anger.

"Who told you that?" he asks lowly, but it doesn't sound like a question. "Noona..."

He squeezes your elbow.

You feel everything you've been shoving down in your chest begin to well up.

Fuck, no!

Your lip trembles.

He's shifting to face you.

You shake your head and press your eyes shut.

Your hand is encompassed in a larger one.

"It's lies, all of it," Changbin whispers with desperate conviction...and your dam breaks.

He pulls you into his arms as you sob with abandon. One of his hands encircles your waist tugging you against his broad, warm chest, and the other slips to brush tenderly over your nape as you tuck your face into his neck.

"He's a liar...shhhh...he's a lying piece of shit," he insists earnestly, into your hair. "You're perfect. He's the one who needs to fix himself. You're so, so perfect."

Perfect? You let your heart hold the word in its palm for one precious moment before pushing it away. Your heart had never been one to accept gifts it didn't think it deserved.

You weep and weep in his strong arms until you run out of tears, and then he holds you while you breathe. As the catharsis of your breakdown begins to settle in, you wonder at the comedown - a softer, warmer one than you've ever known – and you consider the loveliness that has broken your fall.

Soft and firm, everywhere he touches you. And warm. So warm. Not just the heat radiating from his body like a furnace – the velvet rasp of his voice, the absolute and unfaltering nature of his embrace.

Your hands move tentatively against his back. Soft cotton stretches and bunches between your fingers over his sturdy frame. Where your face is pressed to his collar every breath draws in a comforting combination of detergent and cologne. When you close your eyes and sigh, letting your weight sink against him further, you feel his arms tighten in response.

"Sorry," you croak feebly.

"Stop," he implores you, "Every time you apologize, I want to sock that guy in the face."

"I...I'm so stupid, I didn't even really realize..."

"No," his arms squeeze you again, "He had your trust. It was his job to protect you."

Protected. That's how you feel right now. Safe. So, so safe. Letting him hold you and reassure you felt good...it felt right. But yet again, the voice in your mind that liked to remind you how much of a burden you always were speaks up in a sickly whisper.

You pull yourself slowly from his arms and off his lap. Drawing yourself up to stand, you wipe your hot cheeks, puffy red eyes finding his like the needle of a compass. Unprepared for what awaits you in his gaze, your knees nearly give out beneath you.

Changbin is looking up from where he kneels before you, the yearning in his eyes unchecked as they burn with an unasked question and an unspoken promise.

"I should go," you whisper, barely able to form the words.

"Don't," he says, standing.

"If I stay I'll just wreck your night," you mumble.

"You could never," he insists, lips tugging into a little smile. His eyes are still pleading.

"Changbin..." you breathe, suddenly drowning again in the fizzy serotonin his words ignite in your chest. "You don't want..."

"You let me be the judge of what I want."

His hands find your arms and he pulls you in. There are centimeters between you. His eyes rest on your lips. Your heart hammers in your ears as your brain begins to malfunction the way it had when he touched your face...

"D-do I have something on my-"

Mouth? His.

The whole of your being floods with something beautiful and ineffable at the touch of his lips and no voice, no doubt, no force in the world could be stronger than the one that pulls you into him. Your arms fly up to wrap around his neck and tug yourself impossibly closer. His hands drop to your waist, pressing desperately in kind, and your bodies mold together. You flush with heat, sparks igniting in your belly and skittering through your veins as his lips move against yours. He stumbles back, pulling you with him as his knees buckle at the edge of the couch, and your body spills over his lap.

Your fingers card into his hair.

His hands drop to the back of your hips.

Your tongue brushes his bottom lip.

He moans.

At the gorgeous, deep sound from his chest, you pull back, fighting the smile that pulls at the corners of your mouth. What the fuck is happening right now? You don't get much time to consider as his head falls against the backrest and his eyes flutter open.

"Sorry," he grins bashfully. The tips of his ears burn pink.

"Now who's apologizing for no reason?" you tease, pressing your hands to his chest.

He smiles so sweetly in return you feel you might physically melt. And then the smile fades and the lids of his eyes grow heavy and he leans up to claim your mouth.

His lips taste the same as a moment ago, but their press is slower, hungrier. His hands are powerful and assertive as they hook under your thighs and pull your hips flush against his own in a single tug. You gasp softly against his lips and you feel his smirk. You feel his smirk and something else - something beginning to press up into your ass through your jeans.

Licking into his mouth, you push down, grinding your hips over his in a slow, deliberate undulation. The groan that falls from his lips unlocks something inside of you that needs to know every sound he makes and how to elicit them. Your mouth drops to his neck.

Suddenly, he's gripping your waist and pivoting to lay you on the cushions, slotting himself between your legs. You're still dizzy from the sudden rush of movement, when your legs curl around his hips and over his ass and–

A loud buzzing from the coffee table has you mourning the press of Changbin's lips to your throat as he glances at the caller ID.

"Shit!" he scrambles to sit up, hand still gripping your thigh above your knee when he presses the phone to his ear.

"Hey," he runs a hand through his hair. "What? Nothing. No, I didn't forget. I will, I will."

You recognize his tone of voice. There could only be one person on the other end of the line. You sit up, your head beginning to clear as the reality of the situation washes over you.

"Okay, yeah. Yeah, yeah. Be safe. Love you."

Changbin presses the end-call button and tosses the phone onto the cushion beside him. He leans back against the couch and claps his hand against your leg with a sigh.

"She really knows how to wreck a moment for me."

You crack a wry smile.

"I mean, it's probably for the best that we don't desecrate your sister's couch."

His eyes widen as horror, disgust, and amusement wage war across his features. You burst into a fit of giggles. He feigns a gag. You laugh so hard that you snort.

"S-sorry," you clap your hand over your mouth, still tittering while your ears heat in embarrassment.

Changbin's face softens again. He reaches for your hand and pulls it from your face, threading his fingers through yours.

"Cut it out."

"What? I can't be embarrassed about snorting like a pig?"

"No. It's cute," he smirks.

"It is not!"

"Mhm. Everything you do is cute."

He glances over at you, a lopsided smirk on his perfect lips, his eyes sparkling. He means it.

You fluster, gaze dropping to your enjoined hands, and concentrate on tracing little patterns on the back of his with your thumb. He sighs.

"Wanna watch a movie?"

The request takes you by surprise and your heart squeezes. If it was any other guy, the night would have been over. For the fourth time tonight, you had been about to head for the door, and for the fourth time, Changbin makes you feel wanted. So you stay.

You grab a big, fluffy blanket from the basket in Nari's room, and when you return, Changbin has the lights dimmed and Your Name ready to go on the TV. You smile as you settle in beside him, tossing half the blanket over his widespread legs.

"We don't have to watch this just because it's my favorite, you know," you insist, but he shakes his head.

"Taki's ma' boy," he smirks, shooting you a glance as he presses play on the remote.

You're not quite sure what it means, but you feel your heart skip a beat just the same.

You love this movie. You love that you've seen it enough times that you can talk through it. You love that Changbin is more than willing to talk over the film himself. You're not certain when it happened, but by halfway through the movie his arm is stretched out behind your shoulders and your head rests on his bicep.

"Do you remember seeing this together in the theater?" he asks suddenly, tilting his head toward yours.

You grin.

"You cried and Nari gave you shit about it," you recall.

"You bailed me out. Told her all the sniffling was you. Never even teased me about it either."

Changbin smiles down at you, his eyes sentimental.

Butterflies flutter their delicate wings in your ribcage. How does he make you feel this way?

Your eyes dip to his lips for a moment. Sighing, you nuzzle into his shoulder, hiding your face as much as seeking his warmth. His arm slips off the back of the couch to curl around your shoulders and pull you into his side. The movie plays on.

When the credits roll, Changbin stretches and yawns, and watching him it dawns on you that, working at a fitness center, he's an especially early riser.

"We should call it a night," you offer, standing and stretching yourself, but you're tugged back down into Changbin's lap, yelping as you topple onto him.

His arms encircle your hips as he regards you with a sleepy grin.

"What, do I live here now?" you tease.

"Stay the night," he urges, tightening his arms around you. "You really want to drive back now?"

You chew your lip, eyes tracing over his face. This is all more than a bit unreal, and you haven't given yourself even one second to process what's happening, lest you utterly panic. All you know right now is that your little ship had been sinking and he had hauled you into a lifeboat. Everything outside of him seems like a raging sea.

You nod.

"Okay," you whisper, combing his hair away from his forehead. “I’ll stay.”

His eyes dip shut at your touch and the butterflies flutter gently once more.

A few minutes later, you take Nari's room and slip into a pair of her cotton shorts, which do basically nothing to contain your ass, and tug on a plain white tee that stretches snugly over your torso. How a big guy like Changbin could have emerged from the same genetic pool as his teeny tiny sister was beyond you. As you glance in the mirror, your heart sinks. You don't like how the tight fit is pressing you out everywhere you're most self-conscious. But, they are just pajamas, and they're all you have at your disposal.

As you're about to head into the master bathroom to finish your nightly routine, you remember that the toothbrush and toiletries you keep on hand at Nari's are in the little half-bath attached to the guest room. You groan, glancing at yourself again in the mirror, and pull a blanket around yourself before crossing the hall.

Hoping Changbin hasn’t yet fallen asleep, you knock hesitantly on the door. You hear the bed creak before the door opens to reveal a head of mussed hair and hands scrubbing over bleary eyes. But it's not what you notice. Your apology for rousing him dies on your lips as your eyes glue themselves to his bare chest. Blinking dumbly, your eyes climb from his soft stomach subtly rippling with the presence of strong abdominals up to a pair of impressive pecs with wide-set, dusky nipples. His flannel pajama pants settle at his hips, accentuating how his body broadens as it rises from his waist to his full chest and wide shoulders flanked by bulging biceps. Thick. He's so fucking thick you could bi-

"...Noona?" he rumbles, his voice husky from sleep. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing...sorry..." you rush out, ripping your gaze up to his. "My toothbrush is in your room – I mean! in your bathroom. That's where I usually stay, so...but I didn't think you'd be asleep. Sorry, I can just..."

He rubs over one of his eyes with his palm as he steps aside.

"You can grab it."

Right. You shuffle in awkwardly, trying not to step on the blanket dragging around your feet. As you cross the dark room, you try not to dwell on the rumpled sheets of the bed that speak of his body having lain between them, or the soft smell of his cologne hanging in the air. You quickly retrieve the little toiletry bag and, as you move to squeeze past Changbin at the door, he eyes the fluffy shroud you're clutching to your chest.

He raises a sleepy eyebrow.

"I'm sure Nari has pants you could..."

"I'm wearing pants!" you bluster, "They just...don't fit."

You move out of the doorway to make your way back to your room, but a hand cups the side of your face and turns it as soft lips meet your forehead.

"Good night, noona," he murmurs with a little smile before retreating back into his room.

You stand in the hall, staring at his door, the butterflies absolutely aflurry.

Despite your best efforts, you can't sleep. Your mind is full of the last five hours. Full of Changbin.

He had kissed you. You had kissed him back. And it had felt...

You roll from your side to your back, sighing up at the dark ceiling. You chew on your lip as you remember breaking down and his arms around you. You would usually feel regretful and ashamed after baring yourself like that to someone. You despised moments of weakness. But you couldn't bring yourself to hate the moments in his arms. You didn't regret them. In fact, you wanted him to hold you again. You wanted to feel vulnerable in his hands, and you wanted him to keep you safe.

You feel heat rush up from your neck as you recognize these feelings.

You must be absolutely shameless, you conclude in wonder. You should be freaking out right now - this was Changbin, for Christ's sake – Nari's brother! You should be wondering what happens next, and what all of it means...but even so you can’t bring yourself to care. All your mind can focus on is how his arms felt like waking up after a nightmare to song birds and soft sunlight.

After an hour or so of tossing and turning, the salty pizza from dinner has you parched and slipping out to the kitchen for a drink. You pull a glass from the cupboard and fill it at the fridge, gulping down the contents to refill it again. Suddenly, you feel two strong arms snake around your waist and you start, sloshing your water and smacking the back of your head into the man holding you. You hastily set your glass down and turn in his arms as he lets out a groan, one of his hands releasing you as it flies up to cup the front of his face in pain.

"Bin, oh my god! Are you okay? You scared me!" you chide with a chuckle as you reach up to push his hand away and brush the tips of your fingers across his nose.

He pouts down at you and you smile.

"Did I wake you?"

He huffs.

"Yeah. To get your toothbrush. Then I couldn't go back to sleep."

"Sorry," you groan, still stroking over where you had struck his face. "Does it hurt?"

He nods.

"Kiss it better," he mumbles cutely.

You roll your eyes, but lift your lips to comply when suddenly he interrupts the motion with the soft press of his mouth to yours. It's slow and sweet, and you're struck all over again with how quickly you melt at his touch - a sensation you cannot imagine ever growing accustomed to, but to which you are fairly certain you are in danger of growing entirely addicted.

"Bin..." you whisper against his lips, "Bin, what are we-"

"Liar," he murmurs, pulling back.

Your mouth parts in confusion as you stare up at him, still drunk on his lips.

"You said the clothes didn't fit. You should wear this all the time," he smirks as he squeezes low on your waist.

Your cheeks heat as you remember what you're wearing, but you don't have long to be anxious over it as he presses his lips to your nose...the corner of your mouth...your jaw. You tremble as you lean into him, fingers splaying over his warm, bare chest.

"Let me show you," he whispers against your skin.

"Sh-show me...what...?"

He draws back, pressing his forehead to yours.

"How perfect you are."

You still, eyes flicking up to his. They're dark and tender and pleading. You let out a little shuddering breath.

"I...you don't have t-"

His arms hold you closer, gentle but insistent.

"Let me," he whispers, the tip of his handsome nose brushing over the dip of your cupid's bow. "Please. I want to."

You swallow, eyes dropping to his lips. You want it too, you find. You want his hands and lips and eyes all over you, bringing warmth everywhere they meet your aching body. You nod and take his lips again with yours.

"Yeah?" he murmurs against them.

"Yeah," you breathe, slipping a hand up the back of his neck and into his hair.

He groans in response, deepening the kiss as he licks at your parted lips and when your tongues brush, sparks burst in your belly. You feel it all slipping, the masks, the walls - every barrier you hold up to shield yourself from not being enough. His arms are strong and his lips are tender and you can't focus on anything but the perfection of being so utterly held.

His mouth moves to caress your jaw, under your ear, down the column of your neck, and suddenly you feel the edge of the counter pressing into the small of your back. His hands grip your waist and he hitches you onto the tiled surface with ease. It's cold against your bare legs, but you don't have more than a second to register the discomfort as Changbin nudges his way between your knees. He runs his hands over your thighs as his eyes trail from your panting lips to your lightly heaving chest.

You feel your nipples pebble under his gaze and a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, his eyes glinting with mischief as he runs a hand up your side, over your shirt, to rest under the swell of your breast. He flicks a thumb over the hardened bud and you whimper and jump. He laughs softly, his smirk spreading into a full smile as he squeezes your breast and brings his eyes to yours.

"Your pretty body likes me, noona," he puffs proudly, massaging you deftly through the soft cotton of the tee.

You don't have a witty retort. Your body likes him so much that it frightens you. And with the deep affection you already feel, have long felt, for him...

You reach to gently tangle your hand again in his coarse, dark curls. He glances up, a sweet little smirk tugging at his pretty lips again.

"Bin..." you sigh.

"Hmm?" he hums as he slips his hands to your bottom and tugs you forward so that you're flush against him.

You dip your head and your lips ghost his.

"Nothing," you whisper, and you kiss him again. Again and again.

His hands slide from your ass to slip beneath your shirt at your lower waist and he kneads the soft flesh above your hips.

"So soft. Feels so good," he groans into your mouth.

You moan as the walls of your pussy contract. You're beginning to ache, beginning to drip – and his words seem to affect you as intensely as his touch.

He moves his lips to latch onto the soft skin of your neck and suck, his hands bunching your shirt up and up until his mouth pops free from your skin and he's pulling the thin garment over your head and tossing it aside. The cool air pricks your skin and you become keenly aware, for the briefest moment, that you are sitting on your best friend's kitchen counter, stripped down to her sleep shorts, with her brother between your thighs. As your brain races to decide whether to find that incredibly arousing or absolutely panic-inducing, Changbin's cherry lips rewire your neurological pathways in favor of the former when they close around your right nipple. Your head lolls back, colliding with the cabinet door and it clatters.

"Shit..." you hiss softly, threading your hands into his hair and gripping it by the roots.

Your eyes slip shut and you focus on the sensation of his warm tongue slipping over the peaks of your breasts, his strong, smooth palms cupping and caressing. And then you feel his little puffs of breath and the nudge of his nose at the valley of your chest as he groans and smushes your tits up to meet his face.

"I fucking live here now," he mumbles into the globe of your breast, and despite the heat of the moment, you softly laugh. You laugh and you feel his smile pressed to your skin.

Then suddenly he's pulling you into his arms in a bridal carry. You know he's strong, as you wrap your arms around his neck, but can't push away a pang of self-consciousness as he bears your weight.

"Bin, I'm so heavy..."

"You're not."

"I don't want you to..."

"Stop it," comes his voice in a soft, deep command as he halts in his tracks to kiss you.

He kisses you and kisses you until you believe that he could carry you until the end of time, and then he takes you into the guest bedroom and sits you gently on the bed. The bed with the mussed sheets that smell like him. The sheets that he's leaning you into as you push yourself to the middle of the bed while he hovers over the top of your body, his lips never leaving yours.

As he sinks down over you, the weight of his body pressing you into the mattress has warmth licking through your veins. You move your hands to caress over his broad back, feeling his muscles ripple beneath your fingers as he shifts to prop himself up on his elbow. You use the free space to trace your hand down his chest and abdomen until you reach the waistband of his pants. If he'd just push himself a few inches up you could...

He pulls away, just barely breathless, and his eyes find yours. He reaches down with his right hand to pull yours gently from between your bodies and to his lips, before threading his fingers through yours and pressing your joined hands into the sheets beside your head.

"I want to eat you out."

He says it so simply, so confidently, and you can feel more arousal gush to join what's already begun to paint your inner thighs.

"Fuck..." you breathe, your fingers trembling in his grasp.

"Can I?" he asks, kissing your lips softly again.

For a moment you're afraid of what saying yes will mean, of the intimacy of it all, of the possibility that you won't measure up, someway, somehow, or maybe...that you will - and what in the world you would do with that level of acceptance...

You let out a shaky sigh, as you hold his gaze. It arrests you and washes over you. You remember his eyes as he knelt on the living room floor, and all they pleaded with you to disbelieve, to unlearn.

Yes. Yes...If it's him, you want it, whatever it means.

You surge forward, pressing your lips to his, your hands weaving through his hair, pulling him in. He lets out a tiny whimper as you devour him, kissing him with determined abandon until you have to come up for air.

"Yes, Bin, yes," you shudder into his mouth as he pants over you. “Yes I want you to.”

In answer, he presses one last tender kiss to your lips before moving to kiss down your body. He moves slowly, but with purpose, pressing an adoring mouth to every part of you that’s bared. He kisses your ear, your neck, your collarbones…he moves over your shoulders and down your right arm to the tip of each finger. He kisses your breasts and down your stomach. He kisses your belly button, and over your hips and down your left thigh. He kisses the inside of your knee, and bends your leg to kiss over your calf and down to your ankle.

You can barely watch him, as he brushes his lips over you, but he flicks his eyes up to yours so often you don’t dare look away. There is something flickering in his gaze, something like a challenge - daring you to contradict, to doubt what he seeks to impress upon you - and you begin to feel something strange and new. Something you’d never found at the touch of a lover, blooming in your chest and unfurling like a proud little flower under the sun: the strong, heady beauty of esteeming yourself worthy of his desire. It terrifies you a bit, and the ugly voice that has heckled you so often tries to cast doubt, but Changbin’s lips and hands are too persistent and assured for the harbinger in your mind to linger long. And the tidal wave of lovely feelings crashing over you threatens to destroy the shabby prison your heart has lingered in for so long.

Changbin lays his head on your thigh as he brings his hand off the other to cup your pussy over the softness of your shorts. His groan is nearly as loud as yours when he rubs over your mound, and it makes you impossibly wetter. He’s so unabashed and liberal with reacting to what he enjoys, and he is clearly enjoying you as much as he ever has anything.

He moves to bring his face to your clothed cunt, hovering over you for a nanosecond to catch your eyes as he mouths down over you. Your jaw drops open, and when his teeth scrape dully over your clit, your hips jerk and you fist the sheets. Changbin pulls back with a smirk, and sits back on his knees between your legs. He pulls one of your legs up to lean against his shoulder as his hands instinctively knead over the muscles of your calf and thigh.

“Do you trust me?” he asks, with a little smile.

You nod with one of your own.

“I’m gonna lift you, okay? You can hold onto my legs, but I’ll have you, so don’t worry.”

You bite your lip and nod, suddenly a little shy. Look at him. Where did he get all this confidence?

He drops your leg briefly to tug off your shorts and panties, cursing at how wet you are, and gently slipping two fingers to brush between your glistening lips and over your clit. You gasp at the sensation - his fingers deft, his touch soft but firm where you ache for him. And then, suddenly, he is sliding your legs back up to rest against his chest and shoulders. His hands slip down to your hips and he effortlessly tugs your ass over the incline of his thighs and flush with his abdomen. Your heart starts to thrum in your chest. His body is warm and sturdy against the soft plush of your ass. Heat floods your cheeks when you sense a slickness against him where your arousal has begun to smear against his stomach. He, however, is far less bashful. Widening the gap between your thighs, he dips his head down, inhaling deeply.

"Fuck…" he murmurs, squeezing your legs where he holds them.

When he raises his eyes to yours again, they’re unlike you’ve ever seen. They’re dark and hungry and hooded in a way that nearly intimidates you. His expression is full of heat, and manly in its sudden gravity. He watches you as he slips his thumbs under your waist and, slowly with strong hands, pulls your hips up beneath his chin. Your legs bend at the knees and drape around the crown of his head. Your spine curves where your upper back is flush with his thighs, your arm on either side of his kneeling form, and as he embraces you tightly around the hips and waist, you feel nearly every ounce of your weight suspended in his hold. The blood rushes to your head where it lays against the mattress, your neck curving just shy of his knees, offering a clear view of his gorgeous face as he wastes no time in pressing his open mouth to your labia.

Your core muscles flex in response, hips pressing higher against him as you feel ripples of exquisite pleasure trickle through your body from above. The smooth muscle of his tongue slips past your entrance and begins fucking into you. Your head swims, the slightest dizzying restriction of oxygen dampening your ability to focus on anything but the bliss of his hot, wet mouth. Being tasted has never felt this intense. You whimper, your hands reaching around his body to find purchase on his muscular ass. You feel the press of his throbbing erection into your back as his tongue fucks unhurriedly into you. He’s rock hard, and all for you. From the sight of your naked body, the feel of you in his hands, the taste of you on his tongue. From the sounds pouring off of your lips as he worships your sex.

Your legs begin to shake. You’re so totally in his hands. He holds you, lavishes you, consumes you. Nothing stands between you and ecstasy, and you can feel your climax fast approaching as pleasure ebbs and flows like a crashing tide on the rhythm of his firm, languid strokes.

"Ch-Changbin! Nhhh!" you mewl, you voice throaty and muffled from your position.

He growls against you and you nearly cum then. One of his hands drops to squeeze the soft mound of your right breast. Your cheeks burn, sweat beginning to bead on your forehead and neck. You can feel your pussy throbbing - hot and sticky and swollen with stimulation - as he devours it like the flesh of ripened fruit. His lips encircle your clit and suckle as the tip of his tongue flicks over the erect peak of your bud.

And then it all goes white. You lose all sense but feeling as you rock your hips up to meet him, the tension in your abdominals adding sinfully to the fluttering pulsating of your pussy. There’s nothing but you and him and his arms around you and his mouth against the most intimate parts of you as your orgasm washes over you in electrifying slow-motion, pulling you under a tidal wave of bliss for what seems like an eternity. Your lips part in a silent scream of his name, your eyes pressed shut, as he works you through the longest and most intense climax your body has ever experienced.

You feel him place one last sweet, gentle kiss to your cunt before moving the hand on your breast to one of your thighs as he guides you back down onto the bed. You’re panting and boneless as you watch him draw an arm over his cum-slicked chin and cheeks. For a moment he simply looks down at you, a victorious air about him as his eyes trace your sated features and his gorgeous chest heaves with labored breath, then he crawls forward on the bed, stretching himself out on his side next to you, his body flush with your own. He slips his hand over the soft skin of your belly and rubs it soothingly as he watches you with a little grin.

“You good?” he asks in a raspy murmur.

You reach for his face, bringing it to yours as you kiss him with what wherewithal you have. You pull away, still breathless.

“Am I good? Seo Changbin, I think I could fly.”

His answering smile is so filled with joy and pride and affection that you think you truly may have sprouted wings. You roll to your side to press yourself against him, your hand tugging at the waistband of his pajamas, but he takes your hand again in his.

“Not tonight.”

“Why?”

“Tonight is yours.”

“Bin…”

“I’m yours.”

You blink up at him, his head resting on his hand, his eyes sparkling and soft.

“If you’ll have me,” he raises your hand to his lips to kiss your knuckles. “You don’t have to answer right now. I know you’re going through a lot, and this is all…new.”

He smiles again, glancing down as his features take on a boyish shyness.

“But I care for you. And, however things work out,” his eyes lock with yours again, “I’ll always protect you.”

Your heart stands still. There are things that are too deeply lovely for words to be wasted on them. Any words but three - three that are already deeply true, but which have begun to mean something beautiful and different tonight, burying themselves like a little seed in your heart that needs time to grow. So for now you let yourself cry tears that fall like raindrops in the sunlight, and drift to sleep with the steady beat of Changbin’s heart.

“Ay!” Nari’s voice cuts through the din of chatter as her hand shoots out to narrowly prevent a fellow patron from snagging the chair beside her. “Sorry, seats are taken.”

She takes a sip of her beer and stretches her short legs as far as they will reach across the two empty chairs beside her.

“The guys are gonna have to hustle if they’re gonna sit with us,” she says reproachfully, dark brows rising as her eyes scan the venue for the bodies that belong in the seats you have been desperately attempting to reserve for the last hour.

The Eight Ball is crowded to bursting, and you scan the stage for signs of the evening’s openers. Checking your phone, you find that it’s nearly eight. You also find a text that brings a smirk to your lips.

“What?”

You glance up at Nari, who’s staring at you suspiciously.

“Nothing…” you mumble, flipping your phone back over onto the table. You sip your cocktail through a straw.

“Are you texting him?”

You nearly choke on your drink.

“What? Who?”

“You know who,” Nari mocks, narrowing her eyes at you. “The jerkwad.”

“Oh my god, Nari, no!” you sigh, as your phone buzzes again.

She glances at it.

“Then what was with the look? Who are you…”

“Are these for us?” a voice belonging to a smiling, dimpled young man in a black hoodie with a matching beanie pulled over his head saves you from further explanation.

“Jesus, Chris, finally,” Nari admonishes as he takes the seat next to you, pulling her legs off the remaining chairs to free them up for the other two men that follow behind him.

The freckled blond pulls Nari into a side hug which she returns, booping his nose before leaning across him to peer menacingly at his friend.

“Yo, Jisung,” she barks, “If you’re gonna order several hundred pizzas, how about taking some with you next time? My fridge is still stuffed.”

The young man blinks wide, surprised eyes at her before his brain catches up with her scolding.

“Sorry, but it wasn’t my fault!” he insists poutingly. “I ordered them because Changbin asked me to and then he canceled gaming weekend ‘cause he had a girl over.” he grumbles, causing the other two to snicker.

“Nice,” Chris giggles.

This time you do choke.

Your eyes fly to your best friend, watching the barrage of questions bubbling up on her face when a voice cuts through the din, silencing the crowd and unknowingly saving himself for the time being.

“Good evening, Eight Ballers!” Changbin rasps into his mic as Hyunjin waves, as ridiculously beautiful as ever, beside him.

You look at Changbin’s eyes.

They’re bright and confident and determined. You smile and cheer when he finishes introductions. As the band hits the first few notes of the opening number, his gaze finds yours, and it’s full of so many things.

His eyes sparkle with seven days worth of secrets – of waking up to your eyes and arms, of a weekend of nothing but bare bodies and hearts, of weeknight phone calls until the wee hours of the morning…of a new way of caring for each other that you’ll eventually tell the others, but that is just yours for now.

As you look at him, so full of adoration, you hope you can offer him even a fraction of the new world he’s only just begun to share with you – and the reflection you see a little more beautifully each day in the light of his eyes.

-Fin-

168 notes · View notes