#someone their age perfectly? TEENAGER
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13 is old as hell i'm sorry the way some of you talk about the party you'd think they were 8
#now OBVIOUSLY 13 isn't old i was just saying that#but even now. they're kids sure but they're not little kids they're technically children but they're not 6 you know what term describes#someone their age perfectly? TEENAGER#do you guys not remember being 13-15 sure you're a kid but you see yourself as a teenager BECAUSE YOU ARE? like mike wasn't wrong when he#said they weren't kids anymore they aren't they'll never be 10 years old again like they're in high school#and being a teenager doesn't mean you should force yourself to give up the things you love OBVIOUSLY but idk if my 13-15-year-old self saw#the way some of you talk about them like they're children who have no clue about anything i would be so offended lmao#that sounds like i'm still a 14-year-old who thinks she's already an adult but it's true i'm sorry#and obviously teenagers are kids to me because they are but idk...nuance#have you guys not seen gravity falls there's a big difference between a kid and a teenager ! (lol)#and they're all babies to me but like they're not 6 idk sometimes some of you talk like they are/were in s1/2😭#and like i say: brf slt
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ppl keep getting crushes on me at work but I'm demisexual
#i think the bi girls think i dont lik guys and try to shoot their shot but babygirl i dont like you either I'm sorry!#girls get confused when you're just being friendly i didnt know that but i understand now. u bi disasters are hilarious#but not only do i not like girls as potential partners its also the fact that i WOULD like a guy there if any of them were age appropriate#i think the teenage boys are misunderstanding me lmao its ... ok lemme keep it real its making me uncomfortable#like and then another guy like my manager will be like 'oh so-and-so looks so sad' like????#does no one realize how inappropriate it is for some 18-19 yo to want to date my 27-28 yo ass?#they think that's flattering?? I'm not trying to be the next pied piper what're ppl on?#i dont find it flattering i find it annoying. because boys that age handle rejection poorly and ignorance isnt even bliss#cuz i gotta here someone whose business its not BECAUSE TEENAGE BOYS DONT SHUT UP now everybody has to approach me with the#'heyyy where's your friend'' and I'll hear that from my MANAGER like bitch why dont You Know Where YOUR EMPLOYEES ARE#i hate being dragged into something like that. i hate that ppl care more about some lil boy crush over my discomfort#i dont like anybody there like that I already found a work crush I'm perfectly happy doing nothing with so? sorry??#it me#i accidentally ranted my fault
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PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT ─── cillian murphy ✧𖦹
ೃ⁀➷ “I am turned inside out by the ache in your voice, the taste of your tongue." — ‘Afternoon Masala: Poems’, Vandana Khanna
pairing. cillian murphy x actor!reader
summary. you and your co-star, cillian, are having a hard time performing a sex scene for your movie. they do say, however, practice makes perfect.
warnings. swearing, thigh-riding, creampie, p in v, unprotected sex, mentioned/implied age gap, probably inaccurate depictions of actor-life, mirror sex, slight breeding kink, kinda innocent reader(?), AU cillian murphy (not married/no kids), SMUT UNDER THE CUT!
word count. 4.5k
a/n. this is not in any way meant to disrespect cillians wife😭 i js made this a not married AU to be convenient!
i.
“Cut - cut, cut!” The director repeated, his increasing irritation colouring his voice completely. “Now, I said it earlier, but—“
You scrubbed your face with a sigh, getting up off of Cillian and the desk, who was propping himself up by the elbows. “It’s not passionate enough,” you finished flatly for your director, who nodded earnestly.
“I promise, this is as tiring for me as it is for you. Remember,” the director continued, the script half curled in his hands and making a thin flapping noise, “it’s the culmination of six months of pining. Six months of taboo, unrelenting, electric tension. Nothing more than stares in class and brief touches- you are supposed to be bordering feral for one another.”
You, and your co-star, Cillian, were currently filming the first sex scene of a movie portraying the forbidden, toxic love affair between a barely 18 teenage student and her much older teacher. Well, not exactly filming- you weren’t getting far with the scene, for the two of you just couldn’t get it right. Or, as the director liked to say, passionate enough.
The role was already incredibly taxing, even without the added stress of the sex scene: it was 20 hour work days, living on set in a trailer far from home, having to devote at least half of those hours to filming this very sex scene, and had a perfectionist director like yours.
The problem was that it was long, and the director wanted it done in one take. Brilliant man, he was, and had a love for this project you wished every director had for theirs, but he was adamant on it being done perfectly. He said it was intended to be the “primary and most iconic” scene of the entire film, for it was the crux of the story; the point of no return for the characters.
“With all due respect, I’ve never imagined such a scenario, much less had experience. Just how can you expect me to portray a student-teacher romance accurately?“
“That’s your job: to imagine and perform.” The director demanded, obviously up to his ears in frustration.
Just before you retorted irately, Cillian cut in smoothly. “I think what she means,” he said, watching the veins in the director’s forehead nearly burst, “is that it’s hard to perform because it’s not common. S’easy to act in love because there’s love all around, yeah? We don’t have much to go off of, visually.”
The director’s gaze rapidly flitted between you and Cillian for a moment, before letting go of his anger and sighing wearily. “You’ve never even thought about a superior that way? Someone older than you?” he pressed, obviously joking and trying to lighten the set’s mood.
You paused, and tried not to look at Cillian, your blatantly gorgeous forty-something co-star who was chosen for this role firstly, because of his stellar acting and secondly, because of how fucking attractive he was.
His character was a total fucking creep, and you knew casting Cillian had been a calculated choice; all in the name of making the audience’s guard come down to be smacked in the face by his immorality later. He was meant to be charming, handsome, and terribly, totally, off-limits: the object of completely forbidden desire, the line your character was desperate to cross.
It seemed the same in real life, too: the young inexperienced actress wanting to ignore those societal niceties and pine wholeheartedly over the middle-aged actor with decades of knowledge under his belt.
You weren’t, like, in love or anything, but you certainly reveled in his presence: he was patient, kind, and completely understanding of your lack of experience, always guiding you through all the steps an actor takes during filming like when to take off hair and makeup, what best to say to family and friends prying for details- all the things, he said, he wished someone told him when he was first starting out.
You were afraid you two had unknowingly fallen into a mentor-mentee dynamic, but there were always those spare moments, between hearty fits of laughter and silly conversation that you’d never expected to come from such an intimidating man as Cillian, where his rough hands would brush past your waist, gaze dragging up and down your body, sounding sensual and provocative despite nothing dirty leaving his mouth at all.
He made your insides pulse, especially when your more intimate scenes came about, and you could only have a lusting woman’s pipedream that he felt the same.
You still remember the first sequence you’d done with him: in the movie, your characters met after-class to make up for a missed exam, and it was the start of their corrupt attraction. Cillian had been pressed against your back, leaning over you to pressuringly peer at the test, large hand gripping your shoulder. The air felt steamy then, his body warm, low voice making you feel lightheaded as he recited his lines.
You shivered at the remembrance of the moment, coming back to reality, and you answered the director’s question with a vehement shake of the head.
The director let out a (strained) laugh, and smacked his palm lightly with the script, shoulders slumping. “Okay. Okay, we’ll - we’ll break for today. Take this extra time to imagine, research, anything- just practice the scene, alright? Practice makes perfect.”
You and Cillian nodded simultaneously, giving eachother a look that just screamed “he’s ridiculous” before tearing away from each other's stare to return to your trailers.
Later, you were getting ready to go to bed, peeling your freshly showered hair out of a small towel, when there was a knock at your trailer door.
“One second,” you called out, pulling on your silk sleep shorts. You vaguely registered how awkward it might be to be seen in your pajamas if the director or one of your fellow actors came about, but you were way too tired to care.
You did care, however, self-consciously crossing your arms and covering your thinly-clothed chest, when you opened the door and there on the steps stood your co-star, Cillian.
Before speaking, he looked you up and down, icy blue eyes gleaming behind an unfamiliar pair of tortoise shell frames. “You goin’ to bed?” he finally asked, tone husky.
His gaze lingered on the bare skin of your legs for a few seconds longer and you shifted uncomfortably, crossing your ankles together in a poor attempt to hide yourself.
“What do you need?” you asked briskly, more sharp than you meant it to be.
“Sorry,” he corrected himself, shaking his head and finally looking you in the eye. “I meant’a come by earlier… got caught up. I know this, ah, sex scene is tripping us up, so…” he trailed off, lifting up the white script he’d been holding behind his back. “Y’up for some practice?”
You blinked rapidly at the simple, innocent request. Mere rehearsal, not some lecherous late-night escapade you’d been dreaming up in your mind. “Oh… yes, of course,” you nodded numbly, moving out of the way to let him step in.
Only moments later, when he’d perched onto the edge of your vanity — looking uniquely casual in what you assumed was his version of pajamas: baggy gray sweatpants and a fitted, well-worn black t-shirt — did you realize the connotations of rehearsing your sex scene.
Sure, it was all pre-determined, every word you’d say and every action you’d perform, but still. Saying- and doing, such suggestive things after-hours? That was beyond your dirtiest fantasies.
However, you shook yourself internally: Cillian had come to rehearse the scene with professional intentions. Honestly, he’d probably done so because he was tired of you messing up the scene. He could do his own part masterfully, and you knew that if it’d been a better, more experienced actress by his side, filming would’ve moved on ages ago.
You took shaky, tentative steps near him, settling on your bed, watching him flip through the script— when he looked up and frowned.
“What’re you doing? Come here,” he gestured for you to come closer, almost a command. “We don’t have a desk, so we can use your vanity.”
You nodded, biting your lip and nervously complying with his words. “So, we’ll start from the beginning?” you asked, your voice -- and legs -- suddenly feeling terribly weak.
His eyes were still trained on the paper as he answered. “Not necessarily. The sex part s’really the only thing we’re having trouble with, yeah?”
You gulped, throat dry. “Yeah, I guess so.”
With that, he chanced one last look at the script, before diving into the scene. His actions were ones you were extremely familiar with, having attempted this scene everyday for at least a week now.
His body turned to yours, hands coming up to your jaw, and pressing your back onto the table slightly. He held you tightly, and made you look at him, while delivering his lines softly, memorable Irish accent replaced by his character’s generic American one.
Jiltedly, you did the same, poorly remembering what you needed to say and dragging through it like some amateur. “Fuck, sorry,” you cursed suddenly, tearing away from his touch and sighing.
He gave you a small, careful smile, immediately breaking out of character and taking a step away from the vanity. “No need t’be nervous. Practice makes perfect, right?”
You snorted at his quoting of the director. “I just… I don’t know what he means by passionate. I’m trying to be professional about this but - but I’ve seriously never been in some steamy love-affair.”
“Can’t really expect that of you, can we? You’re too young, too much’ve a good girl for that kinda ‘ting.” He said, hand coming up to your shoulder, the one where your silk tanktop’s spaghetti strap had slipped off, rubbing it soothingly.
You practically melted into a puddle at both the pet name and how the rough pads of his fingers brushed against your sensitive skin. You were so entranced you almost whined when he stopped and pulled up your fallen strap, but instead you wordlessly snatched the script that was dropped onto the table and found one of the lines, inhaling sharply and readying yourself.
Your hand came up to tug on the sleeve of Cillian’s shirt, as dictated by the script. “Sir, please,” you whispered out in your character’s high pitched voice, “I - I… want you to touch me.”
“This is -- wrong. I’m your teacher, and I…” Cillian responded, swiftly back in character, the back of his palm grazing your cheek. “I gotta break your heart, darling.”
You looked up at Cillian, summoning crocodile tears to fill your gaze. “Please. I need you.” Then, one of your clammy hands ran down Cillian’s chest as you spoke, like it did back on set. “I think of you, at night. I soaked through my shorts the day you scolded me.”
You heard Cillian’s breath hitch- his character, you reminded yourself. “Fucking hell… I think of you in class, sweetheart,” he growled out perfectly.
So far, so good, you thought. It wasn’t awkward, and was already miles better than the lackluster performances you’d given previously. You continued by leaning into Cillian’s touch, making him sit on the vanity— the part of the scene you’d gotten to this morning, before the director called cut.
This time, however, Cillian’s actions differed from the ones he was supposed to perform: instead of petting the crown of your head, his fingers trailed down your hips, sending shivers down your spine.
“I’ll be good for you, sir,” you recited, face growing hot as his hand inched closer to the curve of your ass. “You can do whatever you want to me.”
Cillian’s gaze had darkened now, flitting over your features. He didn’t say his line - or, had at least missed the timing, and you removed your hands from his body worriedly. “Are you alright—“
Before you could finish your sentence, Cillian had grabbed you by the ass, switching your places and setting you down on the edge of the vanity.
“Cillian!“ you squeaked out, the only thing you could really say as you processed what exactly just happened. Your mind was swimming with confusion — and anticipation — as he stood before you, legs pressing on either side of your knees and trapping you on the vanity.
“Improv,” he promised quietly in his telltale Irish accent, a sly wink appearing on his sharp features.
You bit your lip, nodded, and repeated your line. You trusted him to guide you — and the rehearsal — because, as mentioned before, he did these kinds of things often. If he thought you’d act better if you sat on the vanity, you’d sit on the vanity.
His hand then pet your hair, the other hand coming up to your chin and making you look up at him. “Whatever I want?” he murmured, back on track with the script.
You bat your lashes at him. “Everything. I’m yours.”
Now, this is where you thought Cillian would stop— because after your line came the kissing and the touching and the heavy petting: all things you thus far hadn’t filmed at all, because you couldn’t even get the dialogue out right.
Instead, he leaned down and began to press hungry kisses down your neck, making you gasp.
“What are you—“
“Shh,” he demanded softly, “it's all part of the scene, remember?”
You blinked dumbly, mouth opening and closing, unable to register a coherent thought or word. He said it was part of the scene but you’d read that script, and his teeth nipping lightly at your skin was not written anywhere within it.
But, you gulped down your thoughts, and belted out several more of your lines in tandem to his own. With his other hand gripping your thigh so tight you thought it might bruise, you were starting to think that maybe this was one of those lecherous late-night escapades you were dreaming of.
All you’d been doing was acting, like he’d asked, but still, you could see clear as day how that’d affect him— how easily it could be to succumb. After all, you were just barely restraining yourself from jumping his bones: how could you not, with his gorgeous face just inches away from yours?
Well, acting or not, you’d enjoy every minute of this.
When one of his hands began playing with the waistband of your shorts as he suckled on your pulse, that just right spot on your neck, you couldn’t help the whimper that left your mouth.
However, the noise seemed to startle him; jumpshock him back to reality, and your suspicions became completely confirmed when he pulled away from you roughly.
“Fuck, I’m—“ a pained grimace washed over his features, looking you up and down like he just realized what he’d been doing. “I don’t know what came over me, I— shouldn’t… I shouldn’t have come here tonight.”
You stared at him, body disappointed at the lack of touch, watching him press his pink lips into a conflicted white line. “What - what d’you mean?”
His gaze coursed over your every feature, so intently you thought he was admiring your face. “I can’t— we can’t happen. Y’too young, you’re, you’re too…”
“Then we can stop. If that’s what you want,” you murmured coyly, hand coming up to pick a piece of thread off his thin shirt. “But only if you ask. C’mon, say it: I don’t want you and I want this to stop.”
He groaned, biting his lip. “Don’t do that. I can’t do that.”
“Do what?” You tilted your head to the side.
“Tease. Because you know I won’t tell you to stop. ‘Cause I won’t be able to fucking control m’self,” he grumbled, before pressing a desperate, deep kiss to your lips, pulling you off the vanity and continuing down your chest.
“Then don’t. Take me for everything I have,” you whined, following his every move and manhandling touch.
He breathed heavily between kisses. “Saying those kinds’a words with that pretty voice of yours… fuck, you’re doing things to me.”
Your hands were trailing all over his body, and then you tugged his shirt off, desperate to feel him. He had similar thoughts, fingers dipping into your silk shorts and petting your hot mound.
“Need you,” you panted, and, at your words, he suddenly tore off your silk shorts and panties in one clean go, making you shiver.
He then sat down on your vanity chair and roughly grabbed you by the hips to place yourself onto one of his thighs. The thick fabric of his sweatpants, taking in your wetness like a sponge, made you wince.
“Go on then,” he demanded darkly, “get y’self off on my fucking thigh. Show me how bad you need me.”
You bit your lip, face burning with shame at the order. But there was an aching need in your gut, and the way he crossed his arms, watching and waiting for you to get the hell on with it, had you clenching around his thigh.
Your hands gripped onto his shoulders, and you began slowly rutting against him, the soft fabric of his pants doing poor work for pleasuring your core. You pressed your face into his shoulder, screwed up at the lack of friction.
“Can’t do it,” you whined, “Please.”
He rolled his eyes. “You said you needed me. You’ve got me,” he gestured to his thigh, “so get to work.” Then, he suddenly flexed, making an unwarranted mewl leave your mouth.
You wanted nothing more than his fucking cock, but here you were, pathetically pleasuring yourself on his thigh until he allowed otherwise. You nodded resignedly, and dug your fingernails into his shoulders, starting to set a steady pace of grinding down on him, slowly building up the heat within your insides.
You were moaning now, vigorously dragging your hips against him harder, needier, feeling the pressure in your cunt grow hotter and more rampant.
“Y’hear that?” He asked, one of his fingers tilting your chin back up to face him. “D’you even realize how fucking delicious you sound, all needy f’me?”
You nodded, but weren’t really paying attention: you were closer than ever, just moments away from falling off the edge— when Cillian stopped you.
“Stop,” he spoke, voice filled with sheer lust, and you whimpered at the abrupt loss of momentum. Then, he got up, holding you against him by the waist, looking down at his sweatpants. “You made such a mess… soaked all over m’pants.”
You didn’t — no, couldn’t respond to his musings, pressing your thighs together in an attempt to return friction to your needy pussy, biting down on your lip to muffle your breathy pants.
He noticed this, however, smirking and quickly pressing you stomach down onto the vanity. You caught a glimpse of yourself for the first time since your shower, and you flushed with shame: your eyes were heavy-lidded and dilated, lips pink and slick with drool, your brows in a perpetual knit.
You looked fucking filthy, and when you felt Cillian press his thick head to your entrance, something you hadn’t noticed he’d pulled out, too enraptured in your dirty expression, you shut your eyes.
You were suddenly so much more aware of the situation: you’d fucked yourself silly on your co-stars thigh, the co-star who was twice your age. He now knew you weren’t a talented aspiring actress, no, you were just a desperate little thing begging to be fucked.
“Hey, hey,” He tutted in mock-disappointment, “open your eyes, and fucking watch yourself. It’ll be good for our scene.”
You whimpered helplessly, obeying him and fluttering your eyes open, as he pushed his cock past your dripping folds inch by inch.
“Oh my god,” you cried out when he finally pressed all the way in. You felt so full, stretched to the brim with his hardened cock, so deep his balls touched your sticky clit.
“So fucking wet,” he commented, chuckling darkly behind you. You were totally slick, helping him enter you faster, but his cock was still a foreign intrusion to your inexperienced cunt: you were young, and had never been the type to “get around” — at least not with the intentions of getting fucked so much you could take any length of dick easily.
You clenched around him, a groan leaving his mouth at the increased pressure around his cock, and he snapped into you, making you bounce forward as your lips parted with a sweet moan.
You’d been focussed on his face, in the mirror, but Cillian’s hand suddenly tangled through your hair, grabbing a fistful of it and lifting your head to face yourself. “I told you to fucking watch yourself,” he spat, gripping your hair tightly. “you’re the reason we can’t wrap up, so do your job and fuckin’ practice.”
With that, Cillian started pounding into you, digging the rough pads of his fingers into your hip, and you would’ve protested such a fast progression — having been given barely any time to get used to his long cock — but your expression was even worse than before, if that was even possible.
Your mouth was open, tongue out and panting like a fucking dog, your lustfully sticky spit spilling down your chin to your chest, and your eyes were rolling into the back of your head with each hearty thrust Cillian delivered you. The sounds you were making weren’t helping your embarrassment either, all unintelligible mewls and needy whines for his cock.
“You’ve wanted me for so long, haven’t you? I always knew what a filthy desperate girl you were, pressing up against me during shooting… those naughty hands on my thighs,” he snickered.
“Needed you in me so bad,” you whimpered, nodding enthusiastically, barely able to register what you were doing now with the pleasure washing over you and clouding your senses. Your back was arching into him, sucking in his cock and never wanting him to leave despite the mind-breaking ecstasy that was coming from his pounding.
“Just look at your dirty fuckin’ face… so pathetic.” he murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek; sweet and lovely, a stark juxtaposition to his unrelenting rutting and degrading words.
You whined at his words, but you knew they were true: you’d never seen yourself get fucked, always too busy with, well, getting fucked, but seeing yourself in the mirror like this had you unexpectedly hotter than before. There was just something about it, your face unabashedly contorting around the pleasure, Cillian’s hands snaking up your body as he rammed into you in the background.
Kind of like your own personal porno, you thought offhandedly, and you wondered how it’d affect you if you filmed yourself. Hopefully, with Cillian.
His other hand then came up to your folds, spreading them apart so he could see himself disappear into your hole. “Fuck, your cunt’s so perfect,” he growled, his head falling back, losing himself in the pleasure.
The orgasm building in your gut wasn’t like the one when you’d been grinding down on his thick thigh, no, it came faster, making you sweat and your knees shake. You wanted more, and you gasped out “faster,” and “harder,” to Cillian, needing him in the stick spongy spot deep in your cunt.
“Please,” you begged without any expectation of a real answer or action, “please, Cillian, please.”
He did go faster, though, to your apparent shock, both hands coming to your thighs to steady himself. “So needy,” he grumbled, pushing himself deeper and more swiftly into you, feeling how deliciously your fleshy walls tightened around his new pace.
With that, your high came just as quick, hitting you like a fucking freight train and making you scream out his name. Your orgasm wrecked you, made your vision go white and your thoughts stutter to a complete halt, and you vaguely made out Cillian’s proud hum, whispering “Good girl,” in your ear.
When you came to, your head was hanging low, your eyes blown out, lips puffy. Cillian was still thrusting into your worn-out pussy, but it was more jilted, shaky and needy.
“Come in me,” you pleaded suddenly, gripping the vanity to keep your trembling legs up, “fill me up, please, make your come spill out of me.”
“Good god, girl,” he groaned, pounding one last thrust into you before letting go, his cock pulsing around your wet core. He was pressed up to you so deep you could feel him shoot his load right into your cervix, and you grinned weakly, a sweet image of you: knocked up with his kid, your cunt so young and fertile you’d get pregnant from just about anything from him, entering your mind.
After a moment, he slipped his softening cock out of your filthy cunt and picked you up by the waist to set you down on the vanity and keep you from falling onto the floor.
“Thank you,” you mumbled, looking up at him through your lashes. You then bit your lip, feeling his thick load of creamy come ooze out of your used hole onto your vanity.
He noticed too, letting out a satisfied groan, spreading your legs lightly, before collecting himself on his finger and pushing his come back into your cunt. “Such a good girl,” he reiterated, going back to being sweet and petting your hair, doting on your weak form, looking deep into your eyes.
You swooned at his delicate actions. “Is this a good time to say I like you?”
He laughed, all adoringly. “It’s as good a time as any. I like you, too, if it’s any consolation.”
“But you, y’know… you said I was too young,” you reminded him, frowning slightly.
He sighed, gaze drifting away nervously for a moment before coming back to you. “That I did, but, well… if you wanna take this old man for a ride before I keel over,” he shrugged.
You couldn’t help the laugh that belted out of you, his words so ridiculous and completely not based in reality. “Oh, sure,” you said, shaking your head, lips still in an amused tilt, “you’re mine, old man.”
Before he could speak, probably say another stupid joke, your hands wrapped around his neck and you pulled him toward you, pressing a soft kiss to his plump lips.
“I like you like you, okay?” You whispered, sounding incredibly juvenile but twice as heartfelt, your tone wavering and self-conscious. You were bearing your heart on your sleeve here, okay, acknowledging feelings you thought should never come to light.
His hands came up to your face, gently holding you. “Good thing I like you like you, too.”
ii.
“Cut!” The director called, and you swore you felt your heart drop to the floor. Fuck, you thought, mind racing, what went wrong this time? Was it the kissing, or the hands in the hair?
However, the director came up to you and Cillian and let out an uncharacteristic shriek of delight. “Perfection,” he said simply, bordering on catatonic with how content he was.
Your shoulders slumped with relief, and you leaned into Cillian, who was subtly dancing his fingers across your thigh. “It’s finished?” you asked, breathless with excitement.
The director nodded. “That was electric, needy, tense, delicious, passionate, so, so passionate,” he continued with a gasp, hands clasping together tightly. “You are two of the most amazing actors I have ever worked with— you are incredibly talented, so convincing I’d have thought you did sleep together.”
You preened at his praise, but not without looking up at Cillian, meeting his gaze and barely keeping your expression happy and neutral and not at all warm at the thought of the other night's events.
As the director went off rambling about the utter masterpiece the movie was to be, Cillian trailed behind you off the set, murmuring lowly in your ear, “I guess practice does make perfect.”
#cillian murphy x reader#cillian murphy#cillian murphy smut#cillian murphy rpf#cillian murphy x reader smut
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NEED TO KNOW — j.jk
★Pairing: jeon jungkook + f!reader
★genre: smut
★: older!jk, dads bestfriend!jk , oral (giving and receiving ) , unprotected sex , reader has a crush on jk, bachelor!jk, big dick jk, size kink kinda, hair pulling, gagging, slapping, pervert jk , dry humping , anal play , degradation, name calling, nicknames - lmk if i missed any!
★W/C: 4,395
A/N: remember that time I mentioned a jk fic that i was writing? This is that fic. Literally put this on hold for 2 months and finished writing it last night 😭 anyways enjoy!!
☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ MDNI. Please refrain from reading if the topics make you uncomfortable. ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★
“But i dont wannnnaaaaa goooooo!..” you whined as you declined your dad’s offer to go to his big company party. “Sweetheart this is a huge deal for me …” your dad countered. “… more over, mr.jeon is going to be there ..!” Your ears perked up at the mention of Mr. Jeon. The tall, tatted bachelor with his piercings and built body, who has been your dad’s best friend since his college days.
Since you were a teenager, you have had the biggest crush on him. He was perfect in every way. He was older. More wiser. Handsome. Just your type. The initial infatuation was small, but as you grew into your adult years, it grew stronger.
You were starting to dream about him. Not even the usual kind. Wet dreams.
He grew older like fine wine. Body covered in beautiful art. Built like an actual Greek god.
Surprisingly, he was not yet married, even though he was well off in his late 40s. He used to say 'no woman has ever caught my attention' when someone mentioned him still being single at his age—from what you've heard.
Your dad and him, being business partners, frequently bring him to your home. Always hanging out at the bar or in your dad’s study. You capitalized on these small visits and began attempting to attract his attention. Whenever he came over, you started hanging out at the bar. Offering to make him special drinks. Talking about his interests , which you found out through intense stalking just to impress him. wearing revealing clothes, buying him his favorite food and snacks whenever you visit his office to pick up something for your father. You got very close to him. Your obsession with him became stronger because he seemed so nonchalant about your little tactics. The worst thing you have ever done was hire someone to break off one of his relationships. Only you were meant for him. No one else.
Hearing your father say that he would be there was another opportunity to impress him. You shot up. “WHY DIDN’T YOU SAY THIS BEFORE???” You say as you rummage into your closet for the perfect dress. Your father believed that your attraction to Jungkook was innocent and similar to that of a child. You had always said you hated the smell of alcohol, so he thought it was strange for you to start hanging out at the bar. Despite noticing many changes, he dismissed them as 'innocence', so he expected you to join him if he mentioned Jungkook. He left your room with a satisfied smile on his lips. You finally found the dress. A satin spaghetti strap dress in black, his favorite color, with a dangerously low open back. The dress was revealing when you put it on; the side of your boob was peeking out, but it hugged your curves perfectly. As the time got closer, you finished up spraying on your most expensive perfume, taking a final look at yourself before leaving.
The party was classy. A huge venue with what appeared to be millions of waiters with champagne. Upon entering the venue with your family, your eyes immediately searched for Jungkook. It wasn't long before you spotted him in the middle of a small group. He seemed to notice your family and hurried towards all of you without delay. As he got closer, your heart was beating fast. “Hey hey! My man!” He said taking your dad into a tight hug. “You could have come a bit more later!” He said sarcastically, taking a jab at your dad’s late-coming habit. “Don't blame me! This one took too long!” Your dad exclaimed, hugging you by your side. Jungkook’s eyes landed on you. He stared you down. Taking in each and every curve, his eyes eventually landed on your chest before he looked at your face and smiled. “So glad you came! You look gorgeous tonight.” He said, taking in your hand and kissing the back of your palm slowly, in a sensual way, while deeply staring into your eyes. He pulled away and rubbed the skin with his thumb before giving you a smirk. You felt your insides melt and your brain malfunction at his simple gesture. You were frozen in place and didn’t know what to do. You shyly backed away and looked down , trying to hide your wide smile with your bangs, which Jungkook took notes on.
Time flew by as you watched Jungkook speak in front of the huge crowd with charisma and confidence. One of his best traits. He always caught everyone’s attention with his choice of words and tone. It was embarrassing for you to admit that, but it turned you on. Your legs were crossed, rubbing your thighs together from time to time, and no one seemed to notice, except for Jungkook, of course. He eyed you every time you made a small movement.
All the speeches and boring talks concluded, which made you run out onto the balcony for some fresh air. You stared off into the distance, thinking about what Jungkook had done to you earlier. Was it platonic? Was he just being nice? Does he have feeli- “did all those old men bore you out?” Jungkook was behind you. His voice husky. His lip and eyebrow piercing, shining under the moonlight. You were caught off guard and turned around to see ‘your man', “mr.jeon! Ugh you scared me!” You said dramatically, placing a hand on your chest. He gets closer with a charming smile on his face and hands in his pockets. “My apologies. I didn't mean to scare you!” He let out a soft chuckle. “How is your night going?” He asked you. “Hm? Oh good i guess, it’s kinda boring, but i would do anything for my father..” He chuckled and gave you a side eye. “For your father? Really?” it seemed like he knew the real reason why you were here in the first place. “Wdym really? I love my dad!” You said in a playful, offended tone. He chuckled once again. “Fine fine! I know how much you adore him.” You sighed softly and smiled.
“I like that dress on you. It suits you a lot.” He said while eyeing you. You blushed at his compliment, looking down and fiddling with your acrylic nails. “Thank you..” you mumbled under your breath. You feel him getting closer to you. “Sorry? I didn’t hear you, sweetheart.” His hands were on your hips, squeezing them softly. You froze in place. Heart beating faster. Your legs threatening to fall. His hands creeped towards your ass. Groping it softly, not wanting to seem too pushy. “Mr.jeon…-“ you let out a shaky whimper at his touch. “It’s jungkook for you, doll.” He said leaning in closer to your ears. He took a huge sniff of your neck and hair. “Thierry mugler alien eau de parfum? You have good taste.” He said while softly chuckling in your ears before pulling away. He lifted your chin so you can look at him. Your eyebrows were slightly furrowed as you stared into his intoxicating eyes. “What did you want to say earlier?” You gulped before speaking up. “Thank you… jungkook.” He smiled at you before placing a kiss on your forehead. His hands went under your ears, caressing the soft skin gently. Your eyes widened, and you just stood there. “I’ll see you around okay?” He said smiling before he left. You were standing put, like a statue, your limbs refusing to move.
A few days went by, and you were still processing whatever happened with jungkook that night. His kiss. The way his hands caressed your body. His little nicknames. It was just too much to process. You didn’t see or hear much from jungkook since that day. There were small interactions, but he seemed to ignore you each time. You were starting to get worried. What happened? What did you do wrong? Did you fuck up? Does he hate you?. You never stopped overthinking.
One morning, you heard the familiar voice of Jungkook from the kitchen, laughing and giggling with your father. You quickly put on your clothes and dolled up, still hoping to impress him, before you went downstairs. “Ah! She’s finally awake! We were just talking about you!” Your father exclaimed. You observed jungkook as he sat on the kitchen island and ate what appeared to be lucky charms. His favorite cereal. He glanced at you briefly before turning away. You felt your heart shatter. After all that he did? Is this the way he treats you? . You walked past him and got yourself a glass of orange juice. “Did you sleepwell princess?” Your father inquired. Jungkook was still not looking at you. His gaze was fixed on the newspaper in front of him. “Yeah yeah i did.” You said putting on a fake smile. “Oh!” Your father exclaimed as he heard his phone ring. “Excuse me.” He said before rushing out of the kitchen.
You glared at jungkook and gulped down your orange juice before dropping the glass onto the table. Jungkook noticed your action, which made him put his newspaper aside and walk towards you. “What’s wrong?” He inquired, leaning onto the island. “Hmph!” You huffed, turning around. He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Come onnn! Tell me.” He said while hugging your waist from the back. You let out a heavy sigh before turning back around. “What did I do wrong? Why do you keep doing this to me?” You asked. “Doing what?” “Are you seriously going to act like you don’t know?” You said folding your arms. Jungkook had a confused look on his face. “You are ignoring me damn it!” “Ohhhhh! About that! I just didn’t have anything to say.” He said shrugging. You rolled your eyes at him. “Admit it, Jungkook, you just want to play with my feelings. You don’t care about me. You never did.” You let it all out. It was weird for you to act like this, but you couldn’t help yourself. Jungkooks eyes darkened, and he stared at you. You gulp. “You think I don’t care about you? Me? Not caring about you? You think i come to your house almost every other day for your father?” He said while pushing you down onto the island. He turned you around and hugged you close to his body; you could feel his clothed hard dick on your pussy. You shudder when he slowly grinds his hips into your behind. “Ya feel that doll? Thats how you got me everyday..” he said whispering into your ears. His free hand found your right tit before he gave it a squeeze. Tugging the thin white fabric of your crop top down to expose your hardened nipple. You hear him darkly chuckle in your ear before giving the sensitive bud a squeeze. His hips never seemed to stop as he continued dry-humping you. You felt yourself involuntarily lowering yourself on the island, pushing your ass back into him for more stimulation. He immediately pulls away, leaving you weak and clenching around absolutely nothing. You whined, turning around to face him with pleading eyes. “What?” He scoffed at how desperate you were. He got closer and fixed your shirt. He didn’t say anything and just rubbed your shoulders down before walking away.
A while later, you were napping in your bedroom. It was not uncommon for you to take naps in between the day since you were basically unemployed and didn’t have much to do, and you also needed one after what happened with jungkook.
All the blinds were shut, leaving the room completely dark. It was silent; the only sound that was heard was the faint noise of the air conditioner. You were in deep sleep and didn’t notice or hear Jungkook entering your room. You felt the bed sink next to you before you felt a cold hand on your hip. His hands, kneading the soft flesh of your ass before it grazed around your desperate cunt. You whine when you feel his fingers touch and draw circles on your sensitive part. “Shh..” he shushed you before pressing onto your pussy. He chuckles at how quickly you got wet. Your mouth was agape, soft grunts escaping every second. He slowly pushed you onto your stomach, climbing on top of you before pulling your pink panties to the side.
It was dark, and he couldn’t see much, but he could feel how soaked you were. He spread your cheeks and lowered his mouth down onto your cunt, sucking on it. Your eyes shot open, heavy breathing as you turned around to see the man of your dreams eat you out from behind. “Ju-jungkook..?” He shut you up by lapping his tongue over your dripping cunt. You let out a loud moan, your head falling sideways, already drooling even though he barely started. He lifted your ass up using his strong hands, making you arch your back. He dropped his head lower and started sucking on your clit, his big nose pressing into your soaking pussy. You grabbed a handful of his hair from behind and pushed him closer. He hummed into your pussy, making you gasp for air. Loud slurping and squelching sounds, along with his groans and your moans, echoed throughout the room. You were seeing stars. The way his mouth ate you out and the feeling of his cold lip ring on your pussy were beyond comprehensible. Your heart started beating faster as you felt your body warm up, and a knot formed in your abdomen. Jungkook took notes on your body language and pulled away. You cried out when you lost contact.
He leaned in and switched on one of your bed lights, finally giving the room some light. He observed your body. Your ass was still up, your pussy glistening with his spit and your arousal. It was clenching and unclenching around nothing. He let out a scoff before turning you around. Your face already looked fucked out. Tears painted your cheeks, and drool was all over your mouth. He hovered over you, placing a hand on the headboard. He used his other hand to wipe your face clean. “We have gotten ourselves a good hour; better make this quick, alright?” You nodded softly and wrapped your hands around his neck, pulling him into a soft and tender kiss. He kissed you back and hugged you closely to his body. His hands went under your tee, squeezing your tit. You whined into the kiss. “You are so sensitive, sweetheart…” he mumbled. You break off the kiss and cup his face. “Jungkook… want more..” He tilted his head to the side and stared at you. He put on a smirk before standing at the foot of the bed.
He took off his pullover, revealing his tatted arms and toned abs and pecs. The soft bed light that was illuminating the room was able to capture every detail of his body. You stare. Hand in between your legs, squeezed shut. You bit your lip softly before your eyes met his. He gestured for you to come closer, which made you crawl to him. Your face was now right in front of his hard dick. You could see the bulge growing. His hand went behind your head, grasping your hair gently. You looked up at him with your doe eyes, which instantly made him fold, but he kept his composure. He gave you a nod, pushing your head closer to his crotch. Your nose nudged the bulge before your greedy fingers hastily unzipped his pants. Your eyes widened when his cock sprung out and hit his stomach. He was big. Girthy. The tip was red, and you could see his precum peaking from the slit. Without wasting time, you took a stripe from the base of his dick until the tip before you sucked on it. He hissed at the feeling of your plump lips sucking on his sensitive tip. He was starting to get impatient and pushed your head down, filling your mouth even though he was only half way in. You looked at him with teary eyes as you choked around his girth. He almost lost it when you looked up at him with those eyes of yours. His other hand caressed your cheek, pushing himself further down your throat. You could feel him. Your jaws were hurting, and you grabbed onto his hips for stability. Your throat spasmed around his cock. He noticed how you were kinda struggling. “Better make me feel good, okay? I want that throat to show me what it got.” With that, he started thrusting into your mouth. You started choking and gagging around his length, which just turned him on even more.
He yanked your head off of his cock. A string of pre cum and saliva connected your lips and his cock head. You looked up at him and whined, wanting his dick to stuff your mouth again. He bent down to your level before licking your chin clean, swallowing the mixture before speaking to you. “On your knees and hands, baby girl." You obliged immediately, taking off your flimsy tee before throwing your ass in the air and arching your back for him. You felt the bed dip behind you, and jungkooks long dick landed on your ass, slowly grinding through the sheer panties.His wet cock making it translucent. You whimpered, already feeling yourself getting hotter. “You are such a dumbslut.” He lowly chuckled.
“You think it wasn’t obvious?” He removed your skirt and ripped your panties. You gasp at his sudden action. “All these skimpy skirts and tops.. and just when I'm around? Were you that desperate, princess ?” He said while pushing his cockhead into your sopping hole.
You let out a loud moan; his tip was enough to stretch you out. “Not gonna lie… i was very flattered” gripping your ass cheeks as he slowly pushed further, letting you adjust to his size. He continued. “I only kept my cool because you were my best friend's daughter, but—holy shit-“ he gets cut off as you clench around his length, tears already dripping down your face. Your mind fogging up. You were constantly letting out soft moans and whimpers as he slowly bottomed down into you. “Woah there-“ he chuckled. “im not even half way in sweetheart” he said while grabbing a handful of your hair and pulling your head back. You looked at him with teary eyes. Lips quivering. He smirked before kissing your cheek. He let go of your hair and pushed your head down into the pillow using his hand. The other hand was on your hip as he finally pushed all the way in. “Since you are begging for it— ” you let out a loud scream as he filled you to the brim.
Although it was painful, the pleasure made you forget about the pain. you felt warm spit fall on your pussy as he starts moving. “Gon’ fuck you silly, alright? Isn’t that what you wanted? Getting dicked down by your father's friend? What a whore…” You nodded incoherently. A loud cry left your lips as his hips thrust into you harshly. His pace was slow, but the way he thrust in was so... Your body was moving forward with every thrust. Sounds of wet skin slapping echoed through your room. You were not able to focus on anything. His pace increased, and so did the harshness of his thrust. You clenched around him, making him fall forward. He caged your tiny body under his larger one. “Fuck babygirl.. you are gonna rip my dick off..” he chuckled. “Jungk-kook… feels too good…” you managed to blabber out as he fucked into you like a madman. “Yeah? you like that? You liked getting fucked by older men, dont you sweatheart?” You whined as his large hands gripped your hair.
This was wrong. Very wrong. This man has seen you grow up. He has been there since you were a baby.
“Let me hear those pretty sounds…” he said while landing a tight slap on your ass, reddening the area almost immediately. You gasped and whimpered, letting out a loud pornographic moan as Jungkook hit a specific spot. His other hand found your swollen clit and started drawing rough circles on it. Pinching and tugging the abused nub. Your legs trembled, and your moans got louder. “F-fuck! Jungkook…don’t s-stop! Feels so good!” You babbled. Jungkooks eyes were focused on your pussy. The way you took in his length. Your milky white cream coated his entire length, collecting at the base of his cock.
He stopped thrusting in you for a moment. You whined as you felt him suddenly stop. Jungkook smirked before leaning over and whispering in your ears. “Fuck yourself on me, doll.” You cried in defeat. Jungkook placed his hands on his hips, waiting for you to start moving. You gulped before slowly rocking your body forward and backward. You could feel his every inch penetrating the insides of your gummy walls. His large tip hitting your cervix over and over again. “Thats all you can do? Wow.. so pathetic..” he scoffed. You shook your head furiously and started going faster. Jungkook let out a satisfied groan as he watched your ass ripple. “Play with that little clit of yours.” He commanded. You reached down in between your legs, finding the sensitive nub almost immediately. You slowly rubbed your clit, sending shivers down your spine. You moaned out as the stimulation of your pussy and clit was getting overwhelming. You fucked yourself faster on his cock. Mouth in a soft ‘o’ shape and eyes crossed as his cock hit your gspot every time you moved in and out. Jungkook was in a different world. His eyebrows were furrowed, and sweat dripped down his neck. He was close to cumming just by seeing you fuck yourself on him.
His hands spread your ass cheeks, before a glob of spit landed on your asshole. You shuddered and panicked, stopping for a moment. “J-jungko-?” “Just focus on fucking yourself; everything is going to be alright…” he reassured you. You nodded before going back. His long fingers toyed with your rim. You grunt when you feel his fingers prod into your asshole. “Shh- shh.. youre safe .. jus’ wan’ try something new..” You gulped and shut your eyes tightly as his fingers ventured further into your asshole. He shoved three of his fingers into you, making you moan out loud. “Fuckkkkk- so tight…” he whispered. You melt and crumble when you feel his fingers move inside of you. You buried your head in your pillow, muffling out any unholy noise.
Your pussy and asshole clenched around his fingers and dick, making him groan. “So damn sensitive… has any guy fucked you, this good princess?” You shake your head. “N-no sir …” Jungkook shot up at the name. His fingers increasing in speed. You let out choked-out moans and cries as his fingers curled inside your asshole. “Say that again, will ya?” His other hand found your hips and started stretching your pussy out again. “Please.. f-fuck me harder… sir.” That was all it took to make Jungkook go feral. His cock left your pussy and was immediately shoved inside your sensitive ass. Your eyes shot out, and you couldn’t make any noise as you looked back at jungkook with tears rolling down your cheeks. He pinned your wrists behind your back before moving in and out. He struggled, initially. curse him for not stretching you out more, but his cream-coated cock provided enough lube for him to start pounding into you smoothly. “Shits so fucking tight- gah-“ your lips quivered and legs trembled as Jungkook fucked into you with great strength.
You screamed out, finally getting your voice back after he fully plunged his cock into you. Your cunt was leaking arousal, dripping down your thighs. Jungkook didnt seem to stop. His heavy, cum-filled balls were slapping against your pussy. “Jungkoook…- its too- too much!” You cried out. “Take it. You are a big girl. Take it like a big girl. I know you fucking can. Look at your little ass sucking me in. So good. So fucking good.” He pulled your body back and pounded into you. Your face was a mess. You cried and moaned like a bitch in heat every time he filled you to the brim. You felt your orgasm approaching as the feeling of the familiar knot in your stomach began growing. “Jung-jungkook- gon’ cum…” you whined. “Go on princess… be a good girl and cum all over me..” you nodded weakly, focusing on reaching your high. Jungkook flipped you over, laying you down on your back. His hands pushed your legs up against your chest. You were in ecstasy as the new position had you seeing stars. You observed Jungkook's sweaty body and fucked-out face.
A slap was landed on your glistening, sopping pussy before two fingers were shoved inside them. His thumb stimulating your clit. “Ngh- oh fuck- jungkook m’ so close…!” Your eyebrows were knit together, and sweat dripped down your face. The overstimulation getting too intense. Both his hips and hands increased their pace, determined to help you reach your high. You saw white as Jungkook pressed down on your sensitive bud. Clear liquid gushed out of your pussy and landed on his abdomen. You screamed as he continued fucking you through your orgasm. “Yeah.. just like that.. so dirty.. you are such a dirty little girl..” Jungkook's movements got sloppier. Your orgasm turned him on by a mile, and he was close to cumming himself. You twitched under him, still not over your intense orgasm, not noticing that he had slipped out of you and was furiously jerking himself off. His head was thrown back, and soft moans left his mouth. His breath hitched when a load of his milky white cum shot out all over your body. Coating your stomach and your boobs. You moan as you feel his hot cum land on your body, taking the mixture in your shaky fingers and licking it off while staring into his eyes. Jungkook smirked at you with half-lidded eyes.
“My dirty little girl."
A/N: HEHE THANK YEWWW 4 READINGGG! how was it tho? This would have been a stepcest fic but i changed my mind in the middle 🙁💔 im currently writing fics from my inbox! You can send in your rqs <3
#౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ yun’s silly fics#bts#bts reactions#bts smut#bts x reader#bts army#bts fanfic#bts headcanons#bts scenarios#jeon jungkook#jungkook headcanons#jungkook x y/n#jungkook x reader#jungkook reaction#jungkook scenarios#jungkook smut#bts jungkook#jungkook#jeongguk#jeon jungguk#kpop hard hours#kpop headcanons#kpop smut#kpop
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Teenage Dirtbag XI
JJ Maybank x Reader x Rafe Cameron
Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, abusive relationship, domestic violence, violence (+ gun violence), gun kink, dacryphilia, attempted murder, mentions of blood, public sex, jealousy, manipulation, infidelity, underage drinking, drug use, canon ages, kook!reader
➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics
➥ series masterlist
summary: You’re charmingly spoiled. You’re too kind for your own good. You’re the princess of Figure 8 …and you’re way out of JJ Maybank’s league, but when he realizes that Rafe Cameron’s pride and joy is actually a bruised and battered damsel, he’s determined to save you.
Your rescue just comes with a price.
⭑
You gasped when Rafe tightly squeezed your wrist, pinning it down beside your head as his other hand trailed down your sweaty frame. It was only the evening, but after hitting a few balls at the country club, he came back in a mood that resulted in him reaching for you the moment he made it to his room. Any other day, and you would’ve gone played your role perfectly.
…but JJ was right downstairs.
All of Sarah’s friends were congregated in the living room, so you made yourself scarce no matter how much you actually wanted to stick around. It’d been hard to avoid JJ’s watchful eye every time you went downstairs, recalling the feel of him on top of you and his hands on you. It was something you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about for weeks—even while lying next to Rafe.
You were so conflicted…and not just because you were cheating on your boyfriend.
The whole situation with JJ felt…off. You hadn’t really wanted to go that far, and when JJ kept pushing, you were still unsure if you regretted giving in or not. Was he right when he said you were just scared because Rafe had mentally fucked you up so bad? Had you really just been afraid of the unknown? After all, up until that night, Rafe was the only guy you’d done practically anything with. Those things were very true…and yet you wondered if you should’ve forced yourself to go along with things you weren’t ready for like you had.
…because the truth was that you did enjoy lying underneath someone you felt safe with. When sleeping with Rafe and letting him touch you and returning the favor…you had never not been afraid. Your first time had been a drunk and bloody and violent mess. You didn’t know what it was like to be with someone you trusted and felt wholly comfortable with.
It was an entirely different experience.
Your conflicting feelings were too much, and it was something you wanted to talk to JJ about, but you could just never find the time. Rafe had been especially clingy as of late, and on the off chance he wasn’t, the rest of JJ’s friends happened to be around to where you couldn’t get him alone without arousing suspicion.
Like today.
Unable to get JJ alone, you were forced to basically do nothing but wait for Rafe.
Your boyfriend had been insatiable for almost an hour, twisting his hand into your hair and pulling your face closer the moment he walked into the room. Lying on his bed, you hadn’t had much choice but to slide your lips along the length of his cock, the only silver lining being when he returned the favor. You’d hoped that he would be quick…
“You’re so quiet,” he murmured into the crook of your neck, hips snapping against yours. “What’s wrong?”
When your boyfriend pulled back to look at you, you only shook your head.
“Nothing…”
There was a slight furrow between his brows, and you didn’t like the look that passed over his features.
“You know I like hearing you,” he said, pulling his lip between his teeth. “…and it’s not like we’re at Topper or Kelce’s.”
You swallowed, and his hand tightened on your wrist.
“Is this about Sarah’s dumbass friends downstairs?”
Your heart skipped a beat.
“No…I…” you licked your lips. “Not really.”
Rafe had stopped moving, holding himself inside of you as he looked over your face.
“Not really…?” he repeated, eyebrow raised.
Glancing around the ceiling, you sighed.
“I’d just feel embarrassed…”
It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either. You would feel embarrassed about Sarah’s friends hearing you, but you especially didn’t want to think about JJ hearing you. Obvious reasons aside, JJ was the only one to know about what your relationship with Rafe was actually like. You didn’t want to imagine what he’d think.
Rafe scoffed.
“Who gives a fuck about them? This is my house,” he said, tone cocky as he leaned in to kiss you. “Besides…”
He slowly pulled his hips back before thrusting back into you just as slow.
“Let them hear what I do to you.”
His tone was sinister, a mocking lilt to his voice as he started to snap his hips against yours again. When you bit your lip, his movements grew rough, and you sharply inhaled. His hair brushed your forehead as he leaned in, and you couldn’t avoid his eye.
“I’ll fuck you all night if I have to.”
The warning was clear, and when he pushed his cock into you again, you didn’t swallow down your moan this time. As embarrassing as it was, the shame eventually left you when Rafe started pounding into you, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. At some point, you found yourself on your knees, fingers clutching the sheets and the pillows as he thrust into you from behind.
His hands were tight on your hips, and a mewl climbed out of your throat with every push of his hips.
When he leaned over you—chest pressing against your back—his hand snaked its way around your throat. His grip was tight, making you gasp and making your eyes roll. You reached up to cover his hand with your own, flinching when his teeth grazed your ear.
“You like that?” he wondered, and at your nod, he leaned down to nip at the skin of your neck. “Who’s making you feel this good?”
“You,” you gasped.
He hummed, a question in his tone, and he only seemed satisfied when you moaned his name. Pushing you down, he had you pinned, hips slapping against you as he repeated the question. Understanding what he wanted, you moaned his name again. And again. And again. Rafe only seemed satisfied when you were practically screaming his name, hand tight on your throat while the other dug into your hip and thigh.
When you came, you were shouting his name, and you heard him groan yours into your ear when he came too. You shuddered at the feel of him filling you up, shuddering at the stickiness between your thighs and the cum dripping around his cock and onto your folds. Laying you completely down, Rafe kissed down your back as he pulled out of you, telling you he was going to take a shower.
You wanted one too more than anything, but Rafe had a habit of commencing round two whenever you joined him under the water.
Instead, you took the time to roll onto your back, staring up at the ceiling as you pulled the sheet over your chest. As great as the sex was with Rafe—when it was consensual—you couldn’t help but to compare it to your time alone with JJ. Thinking back, you’d always thought your former friends were lying when they talked about other things being better than sex depending on the guy.
…but JJ’s fingers and his lips had sparked more excitement than anything Rafe did.
You knew why, and it made you sigh. Resigning yourself to everything with Rafe had been so much easier when you didn’t know what you were missing. You did now, though, and you weren’t sure how you were going to continue to pretend with no problem. Dealing with Rafe’s abuse didn’t seem like the worst thing in the world when you didn’t know how much better ‘better’ could be.
The fact that the ‘better’ was right downstairs had your heart skipping a beat, and as much as you wanted to go downstairs again just to see his face, you weren’t quite ready to face him after he’d so clearly heard Rafe fucking you.
“I’m sorry, okay?”
You wiped your face, crossing your arms over your chest as JJ pleadingly gazed at you. The pool house was quiet save for your occasional sniffle, and you were still when the blond reached for you—not quite rejecting him, but not quite accepting his advances either. There was still some dried blood under his nose, and the skin under his eye was already beginning to bruise.
All of it was evidence of his actions not even an hour ago.
Against your better judgement, you went along with Rafe to a small party on the beach. You’d texted JJ to see in advance if he was going to be there, seeing as the answer to that would determine your own actions, but you’d gotten no response. Hence, your own slight shock at seeing none other than a familiar blond talking to Kie.
You’d looked away the moment his eyes met yours.
Rafe—and you by extension—had kept his distance, but you hadn’t exactly anticipated JJ to be the one to start trouble tonight. Rafe had been talking to some friends that weren’t Kelce or Topper, his hand tight on your waist as he held you close. Per usual, you’d been quiet, just sipping on a beer you didn’t even like as your gaze roamed over the beach.
Your boyfriend had been shoved out of nowhere.
Before either of you had time to react, JJ was on him, throwing punches and taking you by surprise. No amount of yelling could get him to get off, and even when Rafe eventually got his bearings and started fighting back, blood was already smeared under his nose and on his lips. While Rafe’s friends tried to join in and make it unfair, John B. and Pope only tried to break it up.
You didn’t understand what happened, only able to look on in horror as your boyfriends fought.
When JJ slammed Rafe’s head into the sand, your heart jumped. There was a look on the younger blonde’s face like he could kill, and for a moment, you thought that he could. You hadn’t forgotten what he’d said to you in Rafe’s kitchen that day, and you didn’t want to acknowledge the way a brief bout of relief filled you at the thought of him actually killing Rafe. The feeling scared you, so much so that it made your stomach turn, and all relief was gone the moment you imagined JJ in jail.
You only wanted Pope and John B. to get him off of him.
When they did, they struggled to hold him back, and Rafe’s friends fared no better, your boyfriend determined to get his hands on JJ. You’d only been able to look between them, eyes lingering on JJ as he was pulled away. You hadn’t missed his brief glance towards you and the venom you saw there. You were only pulled from the trance by the feel of Sarah grabbing your arm.
“Are you okay? You didn’t get caught up in that, did you?”
You’d shaken your head, and she’d angrily tucked her hair behind her ear.
“Kie will drive you home,” she’d said. “I’m sure Rafe won’t take much convincing.”
She wasn’t wrong.
Your boyfriend was huffing and darting his eyes every which way when Sarah proposed she make sure you get straight home. Even if your boyfriend hadn’t said it, you knew what he was thinking. He still had a fight in his eyes, and you knew that whenever he made it to The Cut, if he didn’t find JJ, he would settle for either of his friends.
That was exactly what you told the blond the moment you walked through the pool house, positive as to where he’d found refuge.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I don’t know why…”
JJ trailed off, running his hands through his already messy hair.
“No…”
He chuckled to himself, shaking his head.
“I know exactly why I did that.”
He moved closer to you, jaw clenched as he gazed at you.
“I hate that everyone thinks he’s such a great boyfriend,” he sneered. “I hate that he can just walk into a party with you on his arm like he doesn’t treat you like absolute shit!”
Your face fell, and your gaze found the floor.
“God, seeing you standing there…? Like his little accessory or something? Just hanging on his arm without even being acknowledged like you aren’t even a person?” he wondered. “It made me angrier than expected.”
You sighed at that, some of your own irritation dissipating.
“JJ,” you exhaled, sadly looking at him. “You can’t let that bother you.”
“…but it does!”
His voice bounced off of the walls.
“It’s not fucking fair,” his voice was quieter, now, hand coming up to rest on your arm. “It’s not fair that he gets to treat you like that…and have you too.”
You could see it then—there in his gaze—that this wasn’t just sparked by tonight.
Closing your eyes, you sighed again.
“I can’t exactly…refuse to have sex with him JJ,” you softly whispered, slowly meeting his gaze.
You could see that it bothered him, disgust and anger flitting over his features.
“The rest of them were making jokes and pretending to gag,” he gradually replied. “…but all I could think about was him giving you a black eye…and then having sex with you weeks later.”
You wrapped your arms around yourself.
“So you fought him?”
“What else can I do?” he seriously wondered, giving you a look. “…until I can figure out how to get you away from him…I have to settle for kicking his ass.”
You couldn’t even focus on everything JJ said, lips parting as you blinked at him.
“Get me away from him? JJ,” you lightly scoffed. “I…”
Of course, you wanted that, but Rafe was…Rafe. Rafe Cameron, son of Ward Cameron and equally as rich as you. You didn’t want to imagine the things he could get away with considering what he’d already gotten away with. You recalled Ward’s convincing tone that day you’d called the cops on your boyfriend, telling you everything that you already knew. You especially remembered Rafe’s hands on your throat one night, threatening to kill you if you ever left him.
You’d long accepted your fate of walking on eggshells around Rafe forever.
“Are you telling me you don’t want to get away from him?” the blond wondered, fingers grazing the skin of your cheek.
“I do,” you told him, shaking your head. “You know that I do, but… I have no way of…”
Your words trailed off as JJ shushed you, his other hand coming up to rest on the other side of your face. His nose brushed against yours as he leaned in, foreheads touching too. His thumbs traced circles into your cheeks as he closed his eyes.
“Don’t you worry about that,” he whispered, lips brushing yours as he spoke. “I’m going to get you out.”
He pressed his lips to yours, and you thought about Rafe on The Cut looking for JJ, none the wiser to the fact that he was with you.
“I promise you.”
Ward and Rose’s party was in full swing, and yet you found yourself on your fifth drink of the night on the back porch. Rafe was especially irritating, going on and on about JJ, and unable to take it anymore, you’d slipped away to find comfort in your solitude. Since Topper and Kelce weren’t privy to what went down the other night, Rafe had to let them in on all the sordid details, and you couldn’t stand it.
That same night JJ had kissed you for what felt like hours, eventually letting you go once you reminded him that Rafe wouldn’t be out looking for him forever. It was reluctant, but he eventually kissed you one last time. It was still on your mind when Rafe finally came back, still angry at JJ and choosing to take it out on you, kisses rough as he pulled at your clothes.
He’d only seemed satisfied when you came around him for a second time, exhausted and milking him dry.
This feud or whatever between Kooks and Pogues had always been ongoing, but your relationship with JJ only added another complicated layer to it all. While Rafe thought the other blond was just being an asshole, you knew better. You knew that JJ was angry with Rafe’s treatment of you and saw himself as defending your honor or something.
You would’ve found it flattering if it didn’t worry you so much.
You were pulled from your thoughts by a familiar hand on your elbow, and you hadn’t even heard Rafe come outside. When you looked at his face, you could see the boredom all over it, and so you weren’t shocked when he said:
“We’re heading to Top’s.”
It wasn’t a suggestion, and you didn’t have any choice but to follow along as he pulled you through his house. The two familiar guys were already in his truck when you made it outside, and you could only stare out the window when you slid in next to Topper. You tried to ignore the way Rafe’s words slurred as he got behind the wheel, sipping on your own drink.
You could faintly hear him complaining to the other two about Rose’s ‘awful party’ and needing to ‘hit a few lines’. You rolled your eyes, not enthusiastic to be with Rafe and his friends while they snorted whatever up their noses. Despite his inebriation and irritation, Rafe still helped you out of the truck once he arrived. However, you figured out why when his lips immediately covered yours.
“Maybe you can cheer me up, hmm?” he wondered against your lips before pulling you along.
You almost tripped over the end of your dress, and you watched Rafe loosen his tie as he followed the other two inside. The atmosphere was immediately different, Kelce looking for something on his phone to play while Topper headed to the kitchen for more drinks. If you were going to halfway stomach the three of them at once, you’d need another.
While you went to the bathroom, you resisted the urge to text JJ.
Rafe was drunk—and was about to snort a line or two of coke—so his behavior was going to be extra unpredictable. The last thing you needed was for the blond to inquire about why you were on your phone so much and snatch it from you. You really didn’t want to imagine how that would go, shuddering at the thought, and you pressed your hands to your forehead.
Gazing into the mirror, you thought to yourself that you would’ve never thought this was your life a year ago—hell six months ago.
There was a time where you barely even knew JJ Maybank’s name, and now…now he was…what? Your second boyfriend? Your lover? Your guy on the side? Never mind the fact that you’d been too terrified of Rafe to even entertain the thought, but… There was a time where the thought of cheating on Rafe would’ve made you sick.
You felt your eyes burn, and you pressed your hand to your mouth.
You and Rafe were so far from how you’d started out, and while the abuse had certainly made you realize that, your recent actions only drove it home. You’d been sneaking around with someone that wasn’t your boyfriend. You’d been spending the night with him and kissing him and letting him touch you. The reality of just how far your relationship had fallen made you want to cry…
…and now JJ was talking about getting you out.
The thought was terrifying because…how? How was JJ—with his limited resources—going to do what you couldn’t? The thought of not being with Rafe anymore felt so relieving…but equally as scary. Rafe was all you’d ever known, although, you supposed that was no longer the case, and you reminded yourself that JJ told you not to worry about it.
It was easier said than done.
When you made it back downstairs, music reached your ears, and the sight of Rafe snorting a line off of the coffee table met your eyes. Ignoring him, you made your way to the kitchen, quickly finding yourself a drink. The night was going as it usually did, and for once you were happy to be ignored until Rafe remembered your presence.
You had too much on your mind.
You were on your third drink since coming to Topper’s when you finally found a seat on the couch. You tried to ignore how you stumbled, resisting the urge to roll your eyes as Rafe’s words reached your ears.
“…and the piece of shit just pushes me,” he scoffed. “For no reason.”
“What else can you expect from Pogues, man,” Kelce chimed in, shaking his head.
“The next time I see JJ, I swear to God, I’m going to make him swallow his fucking teeth.”
At that you did huff…and Rafe noticed.
The room grew quiet, but you figured that all the alcohol in your system made it hard to notice.
“Problem…?”
When you glanced up, Rafe’s familiar blue eyes were on you. Kelce and Topper were conveniently looking anywhere else, and you gave a humorless chuckle at their cowardice. You didn’t miss how blown your boyfriend’s pupils were.
“I just think it’s stupid…all of this fighting and back and forth,” you took another sip. “You find him and beat him up? Then what?”
You shrugged.
“He starts another fight the next time he sees you, and so on?”
“I wouldn’t expect you to get it.”
“You’re right, I don’t,” you agreed. “It’s stupid.”
At that, Rafe’s face twitched, and you watched him sit his drink down.
“You almost sound like you’re defending him…”
You were way more drunk than you’d intended, but his tone and the glint in his eye warned you off—your inebriation not making you lose your common sense.
“I’m not defending anyone,” you said after a tense pause. “It just seems unnecessarily violent.”
You thought about how angry JJ had been the other night, the look in his eyes, and you shuddered. You really didn’t want to see JJ and Rafe fight again—ever again if you had any say. Rafe only scoffed at your words before standing and making his way over to you. When he reached for your drink, you held it out of reach, and it was his turn to huff this time.
“You’re embarrassing yourself,” was all he murmured when he leaned in.
“…because I think it’s stupid to not just let this go?” you wondered with a frown. “God forbid you decide to act your age.”
His hand was circling your chin before you realized it, and you heard Topper lightly murmur his name. Your boyfriend stared you down, both of you just holding each other’s gazes as his fingers pressed into your skin. The room felt too quiet and too tense, and you searched his eyes, almost daring him to do something in front of his friends.
Listening to Top, Rafe let you go.
“Maybe I should take you home,” he sneered. “You’re ruining the mood, and nobody wants to hear your Kumbaya bullshit.”
His hand was on your arm, yanking you up, and he paid little attention to how you swayed. Rafe only cared about pulling you along, telling his friends he’d be back. You stumbled a few times in your heels, almost tripping over your dress, but Rafe just continued to force you outside. He practically shoved you into his truck, uncaring if you even pulled your dress inside of the vehicle all the way.
The moment he was next to you, you were unsurprised by the feel of his hand digging into your arm.
“What the hell is your problem? Huh?”
“I don’t have a-.”
“Bullshit!” he spat, shoving you away and starting the truck. “You’re practically defending JJ—telling me to let this go when he’s the one who snaked me.”
You knew that he wasn’t entirely wrong to want retaliation against what he believed to be an unprovoked act of violence, but you just couldn’t get that image out of your head. That glint in JJ’s eyes. If Rafe and JJ fought again, you were worried that someone was seriously going to get hurt, and if it was Rafe, there was no doubt in your mind he’d make JJ’s life hell.
Despite the alcohol and coke in his system, Rafe managed to safely pull into your driveway.
“You should probably drink some water when you get inside,” he mockingly said. “Sloppy drunk isn’t sexy.”
“Fuck you,” you sighed.
The slap was loud in the truck, and your cheek burned beneath your hand when you touched it. You didn’t know if the alcohol made the pain less or worse, and you blinked away tears. Some still escaped though, and you pulled your lip between your teeth as you sniffed.
“Hopefully you’ll have pulled yourself together by the morning,” Rafe murmured, unlocking the truck. “You know I hate when you get like this.”
Stumbling out of the vehicle, you made sure to slam the door behind you.
Rafe didn’t even wait around to watch you go inside, backing out of the driveway just as more tears fell. Your face stung more when the air hit it, and you sniffed, searching in your purse for your keys. Your parents were still at the Camerons’, and considering it was actually still pretty early in the night, you figured they would be for a few more hours. When you dropped the clutch, you cursed, and you were just about to bend down to get it when another hand beat you to it.
“Jesus!”
You might’ve fallen if he hadn’t reached out to grab you.
“No, JJ,” he teased, but his face fell as he really looked at you.
His hand tightened when you swayed, keeping you from falling, and his other hand reached out to hold you too.
“Hey…hey, are you okay?”
You touched your forehead.
“I’m fine,” you sighed. “Just the average night with Rafe Cameron.”
You wiped your face again, and JJ pulled you against him.
“Did he hurt you?”
The question made you laugh, and you reached for your purse again with a shrug.
“I don’t even know if a slap counts anymore,” you choked out with a bitter smile. “Ending the evening with only a slap is considered a good day.”
You could feel yourself crying again—you blamed the alcohol—and you didn’t protest when JJ took your keys. Rafe was long gone, so you let JJ guide you inside, a hand on your waist as he closed the door behind him. When you stumbled in your heels, it was a reminder that you were wearing them, and JJ bent down to help you take them off. You swayed when you put your foot down, and JJ steadied you as he rose.
“Let’s get you upstairs…”
You let him lean you on him, moving towards the staircase.
“It takes almost nothing to get him mad,” you murmured after a few moments, recalling his ire. “I don’t even know what I was thinking drinking so much tonight.”
You always had to be on high alert with Rafe—always had to be hyperaware and hyper focused on every single expression and word and change in body language. There was no relaxing around Rafe ever, and the thought made more tears fall. When you made it to your room, you immediately sat on the floor, dropping your face into your hands.
JJ softly called your name.
“You know that he grabbed me tonight…and Topper and Kelce barely did anything?”
You looked up at the blond as he sadly looked down at you, jaw clenching at that.
“…and I’d like to think that they would do something if he did much worse,” you slowly said. “…but the truth is…”
You shrugged at him.
“I don’t know,” you confessed. “They never speak out against him, so I don’t know why I’d ever expect that where I’m concerned.”
JJ moved to sit down next to you.
“Especially since they barely even acknowledge me on a regular basis.”
“Y/N…”
“I’m sorry,” you tearfully told him, shaking your head when he protested. “I don’t…”
“Don’t apologize for talking to me about this—any of this,” JJ firmly told you, taking your hands. “I wanna hate him for leaving you alone this drunk, but…”
JJ pressed his lips to your cheek.
“He’s probably the last person you should be with,” he whispered, pulling away slightly.
His blue eyes searched yours, and you blinked at him. You could see so many emotions pass over his features, anger being the most prominent, and JJ’s gaze hardened.
“I should kick his ass again-.”
“JJ,” you admonished.
“I should,” he said with a smile, kissing you. “I should do to him exactly what he does to you.”
Your drunk brain knew that JJ was in your bedroom and kissing you, but you couldn’t quite make sense of it. Your face still stung, and your chest still felt heavy, but all you could really focus on was the kiss. JJ kissed you like he missed you, and you supposed that you missed him too. When one of his hands rested on the back of your neck—the other on the zipper of your dress—you touched his chest.
“JJ…”
He gently shushed you, leaning in towards you more.
“It’ll be okay…”
“I don’t… I don’t think this is smart,” you told him, pulling away. “Rafe could easily decide to come back, and I…”
You bit your lip, eyeing him.
“I don’t want this going too far.”
JJ brushed his thumb along your bottom lip, pulling on it a bit.
“Trust me,” was all he said, kissing you again.
You did, but you knew that this wasn’t something you were prepared to handle yet. You wouldn’t be able to take anything back, and you weren’t mentally nor emotionally ready to walk around looking Rafe in the eye and pretending like you hadn’t had sex with someone else. You were already cheating on him, this was true, but sleeping with JJ just felt like the point of no return…and not just because of Rafe.
Rafe was unfortunately the only man you’d ever been with, and you weren’t able to get past that mental barrier.
“JJ,” you protested, words slurred. “Wait…”
Your back was pressed to the floor, JJ’s frame pinning yours down as he kissed you. Your movements were sluggish and weak, the alcohol in your system hindering them. It was hard to tell if you were actively trying to push him away and was just failing, or if you simply weren’t trying, at all because you didn’t want to.
Everything was so confusing.
The sound of the zipper on your dress was loud in the otherwise quiet room, and you shuddered when the air hit you. When JJ kissed you again, your thoughts halted momentarily, and you blinked up at the ceiling when his lips trailed down to your throat. The room was tilting, and you squeezed your eyes shut. The feeling of his lips on your chest and then your stomach made you shudder, and you pressed your hands to your forehead when you felt him yanking your underwear down.
Your next protest was forgotten when he tasted you.
Your chest arched, and you gasped, wide eyes on the ceiling. JJ’s tongue slid between your folds and across your clit while his hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place. His mouth on you was making your head spin, and too many thoughts were racing around in your head. You wanted to push him away…but you also wanted to pull him closer. You wanted to moan, but some part of you also wanted to swallow down every sound that threatened to come up.
Alcohol completely settled in your system, your vision went in and out, and the next time you blinked, JJ’s lips were touching yours. You could taste yourself on them, and you drunkenly hummed. The blond was saying something to you, but you could only halfway focus, slowly blinking at him.
“You’re okay,” he softly repeated.
You realized why when all of your senses came back into focus, and you felt yourself pushing against his chest. It was weak, anyway, positive that JJ could bat your hand away if he wanted to. Instead, he only kissed you again, deeply inhaling and reaching between you. When you felt the tip of him grazing your thigh, a shiver crawled up your spine.
You turned your head when he pressed open mouthed kisses along the expanse of your throat, shifting as he completely got rid of his pants, now. One hand kept himself hovering over you while the other reached behind his head to pull at his shirt. You shuddered again when his bare chest met yours. It was only just hitting you that you were about to have sex with someone that wasn’t Rafe…
…and there wasn’t anything you could do about it.
JJ was slow when he entered you. He took his time in pushing his cock into you inch by inch, and you didn’t know if he was giving you time to adjust or simply savoring the moment. Maybe both. You heard him sigh—you did too—and your nails pressed into his arm. When his hips firmly rested against yours, he held himself there, pausing and just basking in the feel of you wrapped around him.
You were also getting used to the feeling.
While he seemed to be just as long as Rafe, you weren’t prepared for the stretch, and you involuntarily moved your hips. The action made JJ hiss, and he pressed his forehead to yours. His breathing—like yours—was uneven, and he only started to move once he calmed himself down a bit. Pulling his hips back until only the tip of him remained, JJ swiftly thrust into you.
You softly yelped, hanging onto him, and JJ adopted a slow and steady pace. Your dress and the carpet beneath you were soft against your back, and JJ hummed as he sank into you. Your entire body felt abuzz with energy, and it fought with the alcohol in your system. Every push of his hips had you gasping, and when JJ lifted his head, his blue gaze held yours.
You were still really confused—the room tilting around you—but you trusted JJ way more than you ever trusted Rafe. Despite the fact that this was not what you wanted for your evening, your body slowly relaxed underneath his with every thrust. Despite everything, you weren’t scared, and those feelings heavily conflicted with your uncertainty surrounding this.
You hadn’t wanted this…but now all you could think about was JJ’s smooth thrusts and his efforts to push you both over the edge. You hadn’t wanted this, but you forgot why when JJ trailed his lips over your throat, sighing when you threw your head back. Your lips parted, a choked moan escaping as he curved his hips against yours.
JJ was being so gentle with you, and it was what stood out to you the most.
Then again, maybe everything felt good because you were drunk. You felt so light, like you were floating, and your lashes fluttered. JJ’s hand curved against your waist, holding you as he continued to fuck you, while the other ran up and down your side. He was saying something to you, and it took you a moment to focus.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured against your lips, kissing you again. “Do you feel okay?”
When you gave him a nod, he smiled against your lips.
“I told you,” he whispered, cock stretching you out and sliding along your walls. “It’ll be okay.”
You moaned his name, chest arching up into his. He cursed as he held you tighter, and you wrapped your arms around him.
When you came around him, JJ kept moving against you, fucking you and plunging his cock into you. You clung to him as you shuddered, gasping and toes curling. When you squeezed your eyes shut, you saw stars, and JJ murmured soft praises into your ear. His movements prolonged your climax, the overstimulation making you shudder, and JJ only slid his hand under you to fist the hair at the nape of your neck.
When he forced your head back, his teeth grazed your neck, head drifting towards your collarbone.
“I want you to think about me every time you’re with him.”
#jj maybank#jj maybank x reader#dark!jj maybank#dark!jj maybank x reader#jj maybank imagine#jj maybank fanfiction#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#dark!rafe cameron#dark!rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron fanfiction#outer banks#obx#outer banks fanfiction#rafe cameron fic#jj maybank fic#outer banks imagine#obx imagine
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my favorite scent is you.
bruce wayne x male reader.
summary: bruce needs to be taken care of too (in which reader believes it's through the form of sex).
wc: 3.5k.
genre: smut, angst (kinda?).
warnings: top!bruce, consensual!somnophilia, blowjobs, slow mouth-fucking, fondling, reader is asleep, bruce and reader are the same age, reader also grew up with bruce, mentions of parental death, trauma-bonding.
notes: it's been a while since i've done a brucey smut (and also fulfilled a request), so here ya go! actually my first time writing about somnophilia, so be easy on me, lmao. it was harder than i thought! also i'm trying a new layout,,, kinda, don't mind me.
“Do you remember that night? When my parents… you know.”
It had been a little less than a decade, but the uneasiness you felt when mentioning your parents’ death was akin to hovering your palm above an open flame. The flicker of the heat frightened you. Though, you couldn’t help but feel magnetic towards it—closer and closer—until you felt a strike to your calloused hand.
Just a little more, and you’ll break free.
It was striking how your wounds maintained their novelty. Years of skin hardening, scabbing and layering over the memory of Bruce breaking the news to you on that night, and the slightest mention of your parents tore it open with little defiance.
“Yeah…” Bruce whispered, and a sudden impulse to hold you prevailed over him. He turned over on his side, slipping his arms over and under your frame, and pulled your back flushed to his chest. You eased with a melting squirm, a physical gratitude, and then another when you pressed a kiss to his forearm. “It was supposed to be Alfred telling you, but I insisted.”
“Really?” Your curiosity was piqued and you felt Bruce nod into the crown of your head, breathing you in deep like his favourite cologne. A scent he’d never wear himself because it matched you perfectly. “How come?”
“Well, I had no one other than Alfred when my parents died. He tried his best, but we barely had time to grieve. A bunch of responsibilities were bestowed upon him overnight; my parents’ estate, numerous paperworks, the press and media, not to mention the funeral service. It was… a lot for him.”
Bruce sighed, squeezing you tighter for support as he continued. “I remember reading—signing off things that I knew nothing about the very next day.” He then laughed, a bitterness surfing for air in the bass of his voice. “I didn’t even have a signature yet.”
“I’m sorry…” A heaviness sank you and Bruce deeper into the mattress. You latched onto Bruce’s arm for support, held him gently, and found levity through the brush of his lips, as if he was saying—consoling you through the black void: I’m here, I’m here.
“Is that why you guys hired my parents?”
“Mm-hm, we needed help around the manor while Alfred had bigger duties to tend to. And I’m glad he suggested the idea as much as I was apprehensive about it. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have met such an incredible family. A year became two, then another two, then another, and…” Bruce recalled the sounds, the visions of red and blue flashing—blaring into the sky. “Which was why I thought it would be best if it came from me. So I could be that someone that I desperately needed during my grieving.”
“You shouldn’t have been thinking about that though… I mean, what—we were only fifteen? Coming from your background, you should’ve been… cocky, annoying, emo, selfish, like every other teenager.
“I guess your personality kind of compensated for that—” He amused himself with some levity.
“Hey!” You choked out a laugh, then lightly elbowed his stomach behind you. “Ass.”
“Ow,” Bruce pressed a smile to the back of your head, inhaling your scent again. “I did have that emo phase though.”
“Oh yeah—” Within his hold, you turned your body to meet Bruce face-to-face as a flood of memories came rushing in. You greeted him with a smile that he was able to single out from within the dark. Then, he made sure your presence was acknowledged with a chaste kiss.
“Your hair came down to your nose and stuff—oh! And you kept wearing the same hoodie too.”
“Yeah, okay—we get it. Not my best look.” He groaned, tearing himself away from you as your descriptions of Bruce suddenly developed into powerfully cringe-inducing memories. As embarrassing as the past was, he was glad it brought you some kind of merriment. He’d been scolded multiple times by numerous people, though namely Alfred, to treat you better.
You and Bruce weren’t always close. In all honesty, it took your parents’ death that empowered you two to stick together more than ever. Where darkness used to storm over the roof of the manor, you and Bruce managed to conjure a light that illuminated a path to find sanctuary within each other.
“Thank you for all you’ve done for me.” The moonlight reflecting through the bedroom window casted shadows across Bruce’s profile. Wrinkles you’ve never noticed before were accentuated; eye-bags that you’ve been nagging at him to take care of deepened; glimpses of a boy who was forced to grow up.
He turned when you reached over to trace over the spotlighted features. A single digit caressed the bumpy bridge of his nose; the stubble that tickled you whenever you kissed; the cut over his broad chin that was your favorite spot to kiss,; the scar over his left cheek that had been healing for months, only to restart the process again after Bruce’s late night endeavors.
“Let me take care of you now.”
You weren’t sure how Bruce took your proposal. Recalling the moment had you adding unnecessary details that all-the-more exploded the situation into a narrative you couldn’t exactly trust.
Wait… he made a weird face when I told him. I remember a face!
No, idiot—he just had an itch on his cheek.
Oh.
I don’t remember his phone ringing…
You think he was trying to get out of the conversation?
Maybe? He usually has his phone set on the loudest volume possible…
Oh god, he probably thinks I’m some kind of sex-crazed addict.
Well, aren’t you—
No?! I just—wanted to take care of him… We rarely see each other these days and I doubt the lunches I’d make for him add much to that narrative. I needed something more.
Wow, I’ve been talking to myself for this long?
You probably look crazed, especially if someone were to walk in the bedroom at this moment, but you’d be too deep into your thoughts to hardly notice. If you did notice, you’d probably go on a tangent about how Bruce was probably disgusted by how you could even suggest a thing like that.
Your toes and fingers curled at the recollection you were certain happened.
“So… I know you’ve been out late at night—”
“(M/N), it’s not what you—”
“Shh, I’m too good of a catch for you to cheat on me.”
“I mean, keep that cockiness up and maybe—”
“Excuse me?!”
“I’m joking.”
“Uh-huh, well, keep joking and I might have to rescind my offer.”
“Your offer?”
“Look, I haven’t seen you much lately. It’s not your fault. You’re busy.”
“I know—I just need to deal with this…”
“Bruce, you look—you are tired. You’re overworked and whenever we do spend time together, you’re asleep!”
“I’m trying my b—”
“You’re trying your best, I know! And I don’t know what you do at night, not sure if I do want to know, but… two-three hours of sleep is not enough. You’re killing your body.”
“Hm…”
“And one day, you’re going to crack and I just…”
“Just..?”
“I’m not sure how to… put it.”
“What is it?”
“If you want to… and it’s entirely up to you, but…”
“Jesus, spit it out—”
“I— if I’m still asleep, and you want to somehow… relieve your stress..?”
“Oh—”
“I’m all yours.”
The second hand on the clock cycled slower, almost as if it was mocking you for being so desperate, impatient, and doubting. Yet, at the same time—if clocks could have a personality—there was a dormant kindness in the rhythm of the minute hand striking every corner of the wheel. Gentle and soothing, the lids of your eyes grew heavier with every passing second as the sound of the clock counted sheeps for you.
Forty, forty-one… fourty-two…
Forty… three…
The floor creaked despite Bruce’s best efforts to remain light on his feet. You’ve always been a light sleeper, even at the sound of wind whistling you’d jolt up to, but surprisingly—nothing.
As he approached his side of the bed, his eyes settled on you like always. To Bruce, it was a sweet sigh of relief to come back home to you again. Sometimes, a miracle depending on the crimes of that night. Nightly patrols have taken a toll on him; on his body, on his mentality; but being in your presence always—no matter what—brought him back to the solitude his life was at before being laboured by vengeance.
Coldly, he sat on the edge, careful to not wake you, as he dried off the damp strands of his washed hair with a towel. Then, he chased after the tremors off his bare body with several rubs of the coarse towel, gathering water molecules into the material until he was somewhat dry. It was the typical nightly routine of Bruce Wayne, in which he was guilty of vacating you of.
Bruce witnessed—took part in—how you ended your night. A late night snack, a book, a tv show—and he’d stroke your hair to the sound of his heartbeat until you were out like a light. He’d never forget to kiss your forehead as if it was an enchantment that would guard him for the rest of the night. Naively, Bruce was apprehensive of the subtle chance of reducing his survival rate if he were to miss a night of seeing you—touching you. Even if you had the biggest argument with him, even if you were in the wrong, he’d make sure to see you one last time before escaping into the shadows, saving the city—saving you.
After dressing himself in a fresh set of briefs, the soft cushions of his bed and pillows enticed him back into sanctuary. He crawled back into bed and instinctively found his arms around your body, warm and full against the recovering bruises against his own flesh. Skipping dinner was a norm, but he felt satiated when he could hear you breathe, feel your pulse, and watch you writhe within his doting affection.
“Goodnight.” Bruce muttered as he nestled his nose into your hair, another deep inhale of your scent to ground him that you were still present in his life. And then another as his head turned towards your neck, a familiar smell that taunted him to lean closer until his nose pressed softly into the crook of your skin.
White musk.
The top note of his favourite cologne on you. It lingered delightfully in Bruce’s nostrils, and there was a reason why he always urged you to spray it on date nights. It was intoxicating.
Come to think of it, Bruce’s night routine hadn’t completely checked off all of his tasks for the night. After he would come home, it was a no-brainer to shower off the sweat, dirt, and sometimes blood, from his patrols. He would scrape his hair clean with the shampoo suds, mint and cooling on his scalp. Then he’d move onto his body. The suds would trickle down his torso, gather in his muscles, and he’d add onto the bubbles with his body wash, lathering himself from head to toe. And almost always, the slightest brush of his length would break the restraints the night had locked his sanity behind. It was always you that managed to free him. As he would squeeze himself, fondle his sack while the suds dribbled down his leg and feet, he’d think of you—miss you in ways he wouldn’t dare to ignore, ways in which he was ashamed to desert you of.
“I’m all yours.” Your proclamation echoed, ran marathons in Bruce’s mind as the white musk led him astray. The simple thought of him taking advantage of you guilted him, churned his stomach until it was bundled into thick knots, but it made his heart race.
“(M/N)?” He whispered. The bed creaked when Bruce peered over you, and he was met by silence. A few soft snores joined the ticking of the clock, but for the most part, silence.
I shouldn’t… Bruce convinced himself. It was… shameful to even think of taking advantage of you like that—in your unconscious state, in your vulnerability. You looked peaceful in your slumber and knowing how hard you worked, he wouldn’t dare to ruin it because of his own selfish desires.
He sighed, rolling flat onto his back again, hoping the uncomfortable ache in his briefs would settle down in a minute or so. When it didn’t, Bruce tended to it with a brief re-adjustment of the way his length stood. Then again as he twitched in defiance.
Again, as he throbbed.
And again, when his briefs couldn’t support his throbbing erection anymore.
Bruce turned his head to the side, scanning your unconscious state. His eyes traced the languid form of your body as it sank deep into the mattress, hugging the air to your body while he slowly pulled the blanket off of you.
The bed creaked as inch by inch, Bruce scooted closer to you, turning back to lie on his side and nearly spooning you again. His movements were sluggish, apprehensive to wake you, but at the same time, there was an adrenaline rush surging through him knowing he could be caught any second (despite your permission).
His hand felt it as it caressed your arm in singular, docile strokes. Then his breath, as he leaned closer, pressing himself against you again, and slipped a hand under your shirt. Your bare stomach rested warmly against his calloused palm, and he felt your breath hitch, your stomach tensed, every evidence of your presence, as Bruce ran a palm upwards to touch your chest once, then back down to bravely slither under the waistband of your boxers.
“Fuck…” Bruce’s breath unevened, struggling to keep a steady rhythm, when his palm gently groped a handful of your flaccid cock, a complete opposite of the shameful erection he was prodding near your bottom. You writhed once, and he quickly paused with a shudder as you suddenly turned to lie on your back, smacking the dryness in your throat away as you drove yourself into deeper slumber.
He found it unusual how you haven’t awakened by now, but the cynical part of him pleaded for you to remain asleep—until he had his way with you.
Gently, Bruce lifted your hips to pull down the remainder of your boxers off until you were bare in all of your glory before him. Your balls lay briefly in between your legs before they were back to being fondled in his warm palms. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous like this…”
Droplets of sweat formed over Bruce’s hairline as he sluggishly maneuvered himself to kneel over your unconscious state. His thighs hardened, flexed as he maintained his balance over you. He stroked his cock with his free-hand; to the gentle snores you poured out, to your slightly parted lips that he could easily spread open with his girth, and to his surprise, to the stiffness of your cock as it stirred awake from his constant fondling.
What are you dreaming about? Are you dreaming of me? Are you dreaming of being fucked by me? Bruce groaned as he witnessed the once softened features of your face stiffened into diffident lust. Your breath unknowingly quickened when Bruce began stroking your cock together with his in one grasp. Your body writhed with uncomfortable pleasure as if you wanted whatever was happening to you to stop, yet the throbbing veins of your cock begged Bruce for more—to hold you for longer, to keep doing as he pleased.
Bruce forgot what it was like to have you like this; to have you squirming beautifully beneath him, dripping in heavy pre-cum while simultaneously having your cock lathered in his own fluid. He was enticed by your every movement, squirming and writhing confined by the state of slumber as you couldn’t stop him. You couldn’t stop the uncomfortable pleasure that was happening to you because you were dreaming a dream that refrained you from resisting your boyfriend.
I know you want it. Fuck… I know you want my cum, (M/N). He paused briefly to press his forehead into yours, sweat dripping off his face and onto your body in his maneuver, and breathed languidly against your lips to find the parting in order to breathe his lewd thoughts into you. Bruce was careless, dangerously brave as he slipped a tongue inside of you to spread your mouth open further. You made a sound, but he muted it with a swallow as he ravished you like honey on a spoon. Remnants of mint lingered on his tongue, and as much as he wanted to continue tasting you, he needed to relieve himself.
He was close.
Carefully, he dragged himself over your chest and kneeled over your chest. Bruce’s cock hung heavy above your slumber, dripping in thick strings of pre-cum from the plump tip—a shameful exhibit of how much this had turned him on, how much he had been deprived of this act for so long.
Open wide. It was morbid. Bruce never thought himself of ever once doing this obscene act, but the guilt that had been the cause of his apprehension was only fleeting the moment he pushed his cock into your sleeping mouth.
“Oh, fuck…” He was careful with you. Careful enough to not stir you awake, but courageous enough to fulfill his sense of greed. Bruce pushed deeper, and deeper until he couldn’t anymore. His thick cock steadied your breathing and in favor, your saliva warmed him with complete gratitude.
Come on, I know you can take it… His eyes darkened at your inability to take his girth. As much as it sounded like a threat, it drove him delirious knowing you couldn’t. Even in your waking moments, it fueled a sense of pride when you gagged on his cock, covered him in bubbly thick spittle, and looked like an absolute mess while attempting to swallow him again.
Fuck, (M/N)... You’d pull him out when you had enough of gagging on his cock and jerk him off instead, catching your breath in the midst of it all. He never told you, but it was Bruce’s favourite part whenever you two did this together. The pure lust in your eyes, craving for a fill that you and him both know that he would deliver upon greatly. And somehow, as lewd as the act was, you both knew it was more than sex. You and Bruce were making love, fucking with a craving that you only have for each other because it was only you two that could bring this type of pleasure to one another.
“Fuck—” Bruce paced himself, biting back an adamant moan, thrusting slow yet filling into your mouth as he held onto the headboard. The scrape of your teeth made him hiss, but the pleasure of your warm mouth was so fulfilling that it overwhelmed any painful feeling you’ve prescribed him to.
I’m close, (M/N)...
Fuck, let me cum on you…
On your body, on your face, I want it everywhere on you.
He released his cock from your mouth and took the heavy girth into his own palm, pumping the muscle with a sudden vigor that had been motivated to see you covered in his fluids. Bruce’s eyes rolled back into his lids, panting heavy and harder because he was so close—so fucking close. He could see you sticking your tongue out for him, on your knees, playing with your cum-covered cock as you would wait patiently for his reward. You would begin begging for it—his cum, his cock, him. You’d worship his body, mouthing at his toned thighs, then his abdominal muscles, licking the sweat off the gutters to briefly satiate your appetite for Bruce.
Until you were gifted with his indulgent desire for you and only you in the form of thick and creamy white ropes. “I’m comin—” Bruce’s stomach sucked in hard, his abs contracting while his thighs vibrated with tremors, then with a guttural push, he released himself with a strong grunt. His grasp directed his thick and heavy loads towards your chest and stomach, stroking his throbbing cock through the glorious sprays. He sucked in his teeth to control the sounds that were threatening to burst out of his throat and whimpered with a shudder when it was unmanageable, continuing to empty his balls until he could smell the heavy sex and musk off your body.
Scanning you from head to toe, Bruce was breathless. Despite his delirious stint, it was impressive to see you drifting off to sleep like nothing had happened. Or rather, it was impressive that he had a certain amount of control to not completely make love to you like a wild mammal, rousing you from sleep.
Nonetheless, he powered through the overwhelming need to sleep to clean you up, even if you hadn’t mind the mess. And like always, he never forgot to end his night with a kiss, pressing a chaste yet breathless pant to your lips.
“Think your way of ‘taking care of me’ needs more time in the workshop , but we’ll talk about it later.”
nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. andif you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!
#✰ : nou.fics#✰ : nou.brucewayne#✰ : nou.dc#bruce wayne x male reader#bruce wayne x you#bruce wayne x reader#bruce wayne imagine#bruce wayne angst#bruce wayne fanfiction#bruce wayne headcanon#batman x you#batman x male reader#batman x reader#bruce wayne x m!reader#bruce wayne x y/n#x male reader#male reader#dc x male reader#dc x reader#dc comics fanfiction#dc fanfic#dc imagine#dc comics#bruce wayne fanfic
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Refuge
Danny was not retired, technically he came when people needed him, he helped or protected them as the case may be. It just turned out that over the years they stopped needing him.
And that was fine, it meant humanity could take care of itself, it meant they were safe. That was what had to matter, no matter that deep down, the halfa was hurt by the information.
It was harder to accept change when you weren't part of it. Danny was immortal, eternal, and powerful, things that no longer fit the world. Not with all the heroes and wizards running around, not with Amity Park fading away, becoming nothing more than a part of his memories.
He fit in perfectly in the Realms, sure, but he knew that if he stayed there too long he'd stop feeling human, and that was dangerous.
So, no, Danny wasn't retired. But he lived in a simple house in Metropolis, though sometimes he got tired of Superman being able to hear literally everything and moved to his house in Fawcett. He used to switch between the two houses frequently, not that it was difficult since he had figured out how to make portals.
He had a few friends, like the orphan boy who lived at the train station and Conner, a teenager who sometimes just needed a house to stay in when he couldn't stand his father.
Neither Conner nor Billy minded his age, which was comforting, although they both got curious when he visited the other house. Danny didn't know how to explain that Eternity Rock and Superman made him nervous if he stayed too long (he didn't like feeling watched), so he just shrugged and told them he had two houses.
Neither of the kids understood but they accepted it. They both had a habit of calling him "Uncle", Danny thought it was odd, given that his appearance wasn't exactly...adult, but it seemed they were comfortable with that, and he left them alone.
Apparently his house (occupied or not) had become a haven for them. Danny always greeted them with a sandwich, or cookies, even though he felt like a grandmother doing so. He smiled for the first time in years, feeling happy to fit into someone's life.
That's why it was quite disconcerting to find the Justice League outside his door asking him to join them. Danny chuckled internally, because the current heroes actually believed they could force him into something, but he accompanied them anyway.
Superboy and Captain Marvel scowled at the League as soon as they entered the Watchtower, when they were told they were bringing in a "dangerous individual" they didn't expect to see their unofficial uncle.
#dpxdc#immortal danny#he took care of Billy and Conner#Conner found his home after a fight with Clark#He thought it was weird when Danny just invited him in and taught him breathing exercises to calm down#Danny knows what it's like to deal with angsty teens because he's one forever#Well for that and for Jazz#Billy found Danny's house after he offered him food#Danny managed to cheat the system and buy two houses while they were not paying attention to him#Halfa powers and Vlad's fortune came in handy for something#dp x dc#dc x dp#Danny would change houses whenever he felt Superman or the Rock were paying too much attention to him#he hates being noticed when there is no reason#Billy and Conner know about each other even though Danny doesn't know that they know#They think it's fun to keep the secret#The conversation came up on a mission#The League sensed a large source of magical power and decided to interrogate it#Danny thinks it's cute that they think they can question him#He is the great source of power obviously#Uncle Danny
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Angel Face, Devil Thoughts
Summary: The first time Rafe Cameron saw you, he knew he had to have you. Whatever it takes. Wk: 6.8K
•This is a collaboration with @babygorewhore🖤 I had so much fun working on this with you baby, I love you so much!!!•
Warnings: Possesive!Rafe, obsessive behaviors (Rafe and reader), kidnapping, drugging, kinda clueless reader (or is she…?), daddy kink, borderline stalker behavior, spanking, hair pulling, jealous!Rafe, bondage, age gap (Rafe is 35 reader is 26), spit kink, oral, unprotected sex. Dark fic, 18+MNDI!! (Divider by me)
Rafe Cameron’s legs turned as he swung the golf club, perfectly hitting the ball as it landed near the hole in the ground yards ahead. He smirked to himself. Topper clapped a hand on his shoulder. His grip firm and Rafe cocked an eyebrow at him.
“I don’t know how you do it. I’ve never beaten you.”
Rafe shrugged. “No one can,” He chuckled and scanned the scenery of the yards ahead of him.
It was a beautiful day. It wasn’t too hot and he was able to wear nicer clothing than he usually did for golf. A simple button down shirt and comfortable pants allowed him to easily pick up his bag of clubs and make his way to the small section of the park where food and drink was served. By Pogues and the middle class.
But he wasn’t as involved in the war between kooks and pogues. At 35, he truly had better things to do. Run the empire and look after Wheezie who was a young teenager now. After Wards death, his sisters random marriage, his own growth over the years, Rafe just wanted to make money, fuck, and…make more money.
But then his eyes widened and he almost stopped short when he saw you. And his entire world came to a halt.
You were wearing a simple outfit, a little black tennis skirt and a polo tee that bore the logo of the franchise representing the park. Your hair was out of your face, you were wearing makeup and you were currently talking to Wheezie, who giggled and blushed at a young boy across from you both. Rafe’s footsteps slowed but he continued your way. He was close enough to hear the conversation.
“I think he’s really cute. But I don’t know how to approach him.” Wheezie complained and he wanted to roll his eyes over her thirtieth crush of the week when you smiled at her. And he melted inside.
“That’s okay. All you have to do is wave and smile. Men are easy.” You winked at her and he swallowed thickly.
You were so beautiful. Delicate. Angelic. Perfect. You radiated kindness and a youthful spark that he hadn’t exposed himself to in a long time. He was probably about ten years your senior but he didn’t give a shit. When he saw Wheezie walk away from you and your adorable smile continued to grow, that's when he decided.
You were his.
He cleared his throat and prepared to further approach you after abandoning Topper. He had no issue with shyness or other bullshit younger men dealt with but something about you made him hesitate. Why were you working? Someone as perfect as you deserved to be treated gently, like a princess. You needed to be kept.
Rafe could do that. Easily.
As he walked to you, your pretty doe eyes looked up at him, and a smirk so faint crossed your face that he almost missed it.
“Haven’t seen you before. Sorry if my little sister annoyed you. But I have a soft spot for her.” Rafe didn’t bother with introducing himself. You’d be screaming his name soon enough.
“Hi,” when you gave him your name, he almost got chills. Even your name was perfect. You were an angel. The way your feet rolled, trying to shorten the distance between you both was adorable. “She was cute! I remember my first crush.” You twirl your hair and Rafe gave you a hum of approval.
“What’s a pretty little girl like yourself doing working here? With looks like that, I figured you’d be a model.” Rafe complimented and instead of becoming shy, you batted your eyelashes and grinned.
“I’m thinking about it.” You glanced back at the bar cart, “but I have to get back to work. It was nice to meet you finally, Rafey.” The nickname made his lips quirk in a sadistic smile. A nickname already? One he never allowed others to use.
But you weren’t anyone.
You were his little bunny.
Rafe stayed longer than usual, watching you from a distance and leering at the way your skirt hugged your ass and hips. You were a little clumsy but he enjoyed that. He knew you’d have to rely on him for everything. You needed him.
When you clocked out, Rafe was horrified to see you start to walk down the road. You didn’t have a car. And that made him feel rage. How could someone allow you to walk home alone? He certainly wouldn’t. Not his pretty kitty.
Rafe marched forward, catching up with you before his hand gently touched your arm. “Pretty girls shouldn’t have to walk home. Come on. I’ll give you a ride.”
He expected you to deny it but then you grinned and nodded rapidly.
“Yes! That sounds great!”
This would be too easy. But he was worried. What if a bad man got a hold of you? How would he live with himself if something happened to you? He’d never let it go. No. His darling little girl would never get hurt.
“Come on. My car is this way.”
Rafe lagged behind you ever so slightly, despite his legs being much longer than yours. He couldn’t resist getting another peak of your ass in that little uniform. He also couldn’t resist when you stumbled as he was helping you into the passenger seat and one of his hands landed on the skin of your ass just under your skirt. He had to hold back a chuckle at the sight of you displaying yet another act of clumsiness. You were so helpless, fragile, too good for this world. He had to protect you from anyone who tried to hurt you, even yourself.
“Alright, Angel face, where am I headed?” Rafe buckles himself in, one of his long fingers hitting the push to start on his fancy sports car. He glances over at you, noticing that you haven’t buckled yourself up yet. He lightly shakes his head before leaning over the center console to buckle your belt for you.
“Oh, thank you, Rafey.” You run your fingers down his forearm, batting your lashes at him again. He takes note of your chipped nail polish, he’ll have to remedy that immediately. He’s definitely going to be calling the nicest salon on the island first thing tomorrow. Get you the full treatment, hair, nails, massage, whatever you want. “It’s on figure 8, I’m actually staying three houses down from you, I think. It’s my grandparents old house.”
“Oh, yeah, I heard about their passing. I’m sorry about that, doll.” He smiles at you softly, earning the cutest little grin in return. “Is that what you’re doing here? You inherit their house or something?”
“Oh, no, nothing like that. They left it to my mom but she doesn’t have any interest in living here so her and dad are selling it. We came here to go through all their stuff and get it ready to put on the market.”
“What about you? You like it here?” You cross your legs, and Rafe can see how deliciously your thighs squish together out of the corner of his eye. He stifled a groan at the sight.
“Yeah, it’s nice. It’s a lot different from my hometown but it’s really pretty here. And I make better money than I did at my waitressing job back home.” Your voice is so cute, Rafe wants to drown in it.
“If your moms parents left her all that money, how come you’re working?” He takes a chance to look over at you at a red light, eyes roaming your form, committing as much as he could to memory.
“They are still dealing with all the legal stuff, and I don’t really know if they’ll even give me any. I don’t think they trust me with it. I haven’t always made the best life choices.” You sigh, a frown spreading across your lips, a crease in your brow. Rafe hates it, how dare they upset you? How dare they not help you? If you aren’t great with making choices, he doesn’t mind making them for you.
“Ah, makes sense. But a pretty girl like you? You deserve everything you could ever want. Waited on hand and foot.”
“That’s so sweet, thank you, Rafe. But I’ve always worked for what I want, ya know? I don’t really mind it.” You shrug your shoulders, twirling a strand of hair around your finger.
“Well, I think you deserve better than that, s’all im saying. I’m gonna set up a spa day for you, alright? What are your days off?” This is a win, win for him. He can spoil you a little and figure out your work schedule.
“Oh! You don’t have to do th-“
“Angel, I don’t have to do anything, but I’d really like to do this for you. Let me.” It comes out like more of a command than a request and he doesn’t miss the way your breath hitches in your throat at his tone.
“Alright, if you insist. I work Tuesday to Saturday every week. So I have tomorrow off, since today is Saturday.” You smile at him, and he thinks it’s adorable how proud you seem to be stating simple facts. You seemed like a bit of an air head but Rafe didn’t mind, he liked that, it would be easier to guide you.
“Okay, I’m gonna call and make you an appointment for tomorrow.” He pulls into the driveway of your grandparents home and takes his phone out of his pocket, handing it to you. “Put your number in here and I’ll text you the details.”
Your smile is wide and he feels like he can practically see a sparkle in your eyes. He wants to give you the fucking world. You add your number to his phone, putting yourself in as “Angel Face” with a little bunny next to it. You give him his phone back and he smirks down at it, you were almost in too cute to bare.
“Well, thank you so much for the ride, and for tomorrow too! You’ve been so kind to me and you hardly even know me, I wish I could repay you somehow.” A little pout forms on your lips as you look up at him through those god damned lashes.
“I’m sure we can figure something out, Angel face. For now, be a good girl for me and get inside safely. Make sure you lock the door behind you. I’ll text you soon about your little spa day.” He smirks at you, resting his hand on your thigh and giving it a squeeze. The cutest little squeak leaves your lips and he can’t wait to hear what you sound like when you moan his name. “Also, no more walking home, alright? I’m usually done with my work shit by the time the club closes so I’ll pick you up from now on.”
You look like you’re about to protest, but it’s almost like you think better of it. Instead you give him one of those sweet smiles.
“Sounds good, thank you again, I’ll make sure I’m a real good girl for you. Get lots of rest for my big day tomorrow. Good night Rafey.”
“Night, Angel.” You pat his hand before grabbing your purse and exiting his car. He swears you bent over a little extra to give him a flash of your little black panties, but he’s not complaining. As long as he’s the only man you’re doing that for. He’s totally and utterly addicted to you already, and he won’t stop until he owns you completely. Rafe quickly calls the salon owner's private number, knowing they’re probably closed by now. He offers her however much it takes to get you in the next day before typing out a text to you.
Your appointment is at 12:30 tomorrow, I think baby pink stiletto nails would compliment you well. I'll pick you up at noon, don’t be late. Sweet dreams, bunny.
Rafe eagerly pulls into the salon parking lot the next day. He picked you up at noon on the dot, you came bouncing down the driveway with a bright smile on your face. He must say seeing you out of your work clothes was a spiritual experience for him. You were wearing this little black mini skirt, and a little light pink tank top. You had on the most impractical shoes for a place like this, big, chunky, studded platform Mary Jane’s, with little white ruffle socks. The thing that really did him in though? The black o-ring choker around your neck. It was all so contradictory, the pink, the studs, the little socks. He’s never seen a girl like you in all his years. He needs you so badly.
Last night felt like one of the longest nights of his life, he never thought he could miss someone he just met so much. But he was up nearly all night, his thoughts riddled with you. Your thighs, the way your tits looked in that little work polo, the way your ass would bounce when he fucked you from behind. Rafe has never jerked off so much in one night. Not even when he was younger. All he can think about is filling you up, spoiling you, maybe putting a few babies in you once he’s gotten his fill of alone time with you. He walks into the salon with a pep in his step, his eyes scanning the room for your beautiful face.
His features immediately harden when he spots you though. You’re sitting pretty in one of the plush pedicure chairs your feet propped up while a man paints your dainty little toe nails. His nostrils flare, anger surging through him at the sight of another man’s hands on his angel. His expensive loafers thud against the ground as he stomps towards you.
“Rafe, hi! You’re early! But this is the last thing, so you shouldn’t have to wait for long.” You give him that saccharine smile, completely oblivious to his internal meltdown.
“Hi angel.” He smiles at you, but he doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You about done with my girl here?”
He looks down at the man as he coats the polish on your toenails, wanting nothing more than to cut his fingers off one by one for even thinking he’s worthy of touching you. Let alone doing it. He doesn’t give a shit if he’s paying.
“Yeah, this is the last step then I’ll have her out of here.” The guy smiles at him before returning to his task.
“I didn’t know dudes worked at places like this.” Rafe scoffs.
“Rafe! That’s kind of a rude thing to say… Everyone here has been so helpful and kind! I’ve had a great day!” Your lips form into a pout, your brows furrowed. The last thing he wants to do is upset you, or scare you off. He needs you to trust him. Plus he’s not the same hot headed guy he used to be, he’s a man now. He can keep this to himself.
“You’re right, baby, I’m sorry. Thanks for treating her right, man.” Rafe forces the most polite smile he can muster in his direction.
“No problem, just doing my job.” He taps his fingers against the polish, making sure it’s dry. “Which I’m all done with, you’re free to go ma’am. You can pay up front.”
“Thank you so much!! They look perfect!!” You wiggle your toes, your hands clapping together excitedly. You’re so cute Rafe hardly remembers why he was mad, hardly. He still wants to singe that guy’s finger tips off. “You like them?”
“Yeah bunny, those are gorgeous.” Rafe smirks, pleased to see the baby pink polish on not just your fingers but your toes too. You even went with the shape he suggested. You’re such a good girl already.
He walks you to the counter, using his black card to pay for everything. He even leaves a generous tip, despite how much he’s still simmering with jealousy over that man touching you. He wanted to make a good impression on you, he needs you to see how perfect he is for you.
“Lemme see you, pretty girl.” Rafe offers you his hand so he can spin you around, a low whistle escaping his lips as you twirl. “Gorgeous.”
“Oh my god, thank you! I really had such a great day. I got a massage. Then they did highlights and a blow out on my hair. And of course I got these pretty nails!!” You giggle, holding your hands out to him to give him a closer look.
“Very pretty, bunny. The little bows are a nice touch. I knew that color would be perfect for you. You ready to go?”
“Yup! All set.”
Rafe leads you out to his car, helping you in and buckling your seatbelt just like he has the last two times you've been in it. He drives towards your grandparents house with an almost uneasy feeling. He doesn’t want to let you go yet. Or ever. He left you alone for a few hours and regardless if it was his job or not another man had his hands all over you. He didn’t like it. You were too precious to be going around without him. You needed him just as much as he needed you.
When he pulls up to your house you thank him over and over again, telling him no one has ever done anything this nice for you before. How could they not have? You deserve a thousand times more than just this, and he’s going to give it to you. You lean over and leave a sticky lipgloss kiss on his cheek. His heart feels like it’s nearly going to burst out of his chest and he has to clench his fists to stop himself from reaching out and kissing you like his life depends on it. You make sure to bend over again when you get out of his car, and it just drives him even more crazy. He was going to make you his, by any means necessary.
Rafe carefully selected another item into the cart as he walked down the aisle at the store. The aisles were nearly empty since he picked the perfect time to arrive and buy things for his little girl. His shopping was usually done by someone who worked for him but how could he allow anyone to touch things that were yours? Only he could give you these things. His little angel wouldn’t ever have to worry about anyone ever again.
In the cart were stuffed animals, blankets, decorations and even coloring books. He had already assembled the basics in the bedroom he specifically designed for you two days later after he had been driving you home. The room would be ready tonight.
His caretaker nature allowed him to easily pick up on things you liked. Soft, sweet and gentle natured you. His baby girl.
As he returned to his home with several bags, he didn’t allow anyone to put things away. The room was a soft pink color. Completely removed of any objects that could cause you harm. Stuffed animals, a tv set, a computer that would be monitored, and a soft bed with fluffed pillows. Rafe stood straight and admired his work. Yes. This was perfect for a sweet girl like you. Everything about this plan would go perfectly. His little bimbo would fall for his trap and he didn’t have a moment of doubt or guilt. Why would he? You needed him. And he wouldn’t stand the thought of anyone else having you.
Like clockwork, Rafe heard the doorbell ring and he knew it was Barry. Here to accomplish his part of the task at hand. Rafe opened his front door after begrudgingly leaving your bedroom and Barry leaned against the frame.
“Sup, country club.” He dangled a bag full of small pills. “Got the dough. You have my money?”
Rafe handed over the wad of cash and accepted the plastic bag. “This better be the real fucking thing or I’ll kill you.” He warned and Barry smirked.
“Yeah, yeah I’m so scared of you big boy. Pretty fucked up though. What you’re planning to do with that chick. But it’s safe I guess. Not gonna hurt her.”
“That’s all I need to know.” Rafe pressed the bag against his chest and Barry crossed his arms.
“Ain’t ever seen you like this, bro. When you gonna get her?”
“Tonight. When she’s on her way home. Pretty little bunny doesn’t have a car. She’s making this easy for me.” Rafe chuckled.
“Aight, I don’t need to know anymore.” Barry held his hands up and walked away towards his bike. “Careful, Rafe. Sounds like you’ve really fallen for her.”
Rafe nodded and a twinge of emotion made him feel warm. He swore to himself he’d never fall in love. And now look at him. Planning on taking this poor girl but he was doing her a favor. She was his and his alone. He would protect her. Even if it was against her will. Even if it meant forcing her.
Later, Rafe was in his car waiting to pick you up with your favorite drink. A milkshake. His trembling hands gripped the steering wheel as the minutes went by on his digital clock.
You will be coming out soon. All his. His precious baby. Rafe craned his neck and finally saw you walking towards his car. His body tensed and his cock twitched with adrenaline as you smiled when you saw him. Twirling your braids, you waved at him while approaching the car with a half slip.
“Hi, Rafey! You’re right on time!” You said as you happily slid into the car.
Rafe nodded. “Of course I am, baby. I’m a man of my word. Here, I got you something, Angel.” He handed you the milkshake, his fingers twitching as you grinned and immediately wrapped your lips around the straw. You moaned at the taste and his mouth watered at your pretty sounds.
You fell for it.
Rafe inhaled slowly as he started driving, but not in the direction of your home. It didn’t matter anyway, you were drinking too eagerly to really notice.
“It’s a pretty day, Rafe! Almost as pretty as you are!” You giggled and Rafe reached over, placing a hand on your thigh, giving it a gentle yet firm squeeze.
“Thank you, bunny. You’re such a sweet girl you know that? My sweet girl.” He muttered the last part and he noticed your movements were growing slower.
You blinked, your doe eyes becoming unfocused. The Valium was taking effect and he smirked with satisfaction. God, you were such a little bimbo slut.
“Rafey…I feel so tired…” you yawned and he traced his ringed fingers along your skin where your skirt had rode up.
“Go to sleep, baby. You’ll be all nice and safe when you wake up.” Rafe trembled as you slumped over, your mouth parting as you drifted to a deep sleep.
That’s it. That’s my fucking girl. So obedient.
Your body feels weighed down, you try to open your eyes but it feels like someone put bags of sand on top of them. The last thing you remember is falling asleep in Rafe’s car, but what you’re laying on right now is definitely not a car seat. It feels like the most plush mattress you’ve ever laid on, even softer than the one in your grandparents guest room. Your head feels like it’s resting on a cloud, and the air smells nice. Like vanilla and strawberries.
After a few minutes of struggling you finally force your eyes to open slightly. There’s a soft warm light illuminating the room, and what looks like a sheer pink canopy on the ceiling above you. Your body still feels heavy but you’re able to move your hands now, spreading your fingers and running your palms across a silky soft blanket. You turn your head to the side and your eyes land on a pink wall with the prettiest vanity you’ve ever seen pushed up against it. You weave your head the other way, trying to get a grip on your surroundings. Up against the opposite wall there’s a rack filled with clothes and from what you can tell it’s all things you’d wear.
You try to push yourself up on your palms, now extremely aware of how dry your mouth is, how thirsty you are. But your body still feels too weak. You let out a little groan and lull your head back against the soft pillow.
“Hey, hey, don’t try to move, Angel. I’ve got you.”
“Rafe?” Your voice comes out a cracked whisper, you can’t see him, but there’s no doubt in your mind that it’s him.
“Yeah bunny, it’s me, daddy’s here.” The self proclaimed title sends a shiver down your spine.
“Daddy? What’s going on? Where am I?” You’re about to try to push yourself up again when Rafe comes into view. He’s towering over you, looking down at you with what only could be described as adoration.
“You’re home.” His large hand reaches out to cup your jaw, the pad of his thumb running over the apple of your cheek.
“Home? This isn’t my grandparents' house - I - I’m so thirsty.” You nuzzle into his palm almost subconsciously. You’ve spent so many nights now dreaming about his touch, more than just the brief thigh touches or a hand on your shoulder. It felt so nice.
“Shh shh, baby it’s okay. Don’t overwhelm yourself. Here, I’ll help you sit up, I have some water here.” His snakes one arm underneath your head and the other behind your knees, hoisting you up against the headboard with ease. Now that you’re sitting up you have a better view of the room. It’s beautiful. Something out of your wildest dreams.
“Where - where are we?” You ask with wide eyes, your voice filled with borderline awe.
“I told you Angel, we’re home. This is for you. I did this all for you.” He takes the cap off the water bottle sitting on the nightstand and holds it up to your lips. You eagerly chug it down, the cool liquid calming the burn in your throat.
“For me? Rafe? How did I get here? Did you change my clothes?” Now that you’re feeling more aware you realize you’re no longer wearing your work uniform. Instead you’re wearing a little silk nighty with white lace embellishments. It’s soft and comfortable and honestly gorgeous.
“Bunny… I need you to listen to me, alright?” He discards the water bottle so he can sit on the bed next to you, his hand returning to your face. You nod against his palm, looking up at him with big wide eyes. “Use your words.”
“I’m listening, Rafey.”
“Call me daddy when I’m talking to you like this, alright baby?”
“Okay, daddy.”
“I - fuck - I did what I had to do alright? I did what’s best for you. You’re too fragile, too precious for this world. That first day I saw you working at the club, I knew I needed you. Knew you needed me.” You try to hold in your smirk, you really do. But you were already starting to crack as it was, and this? This isn’t something you would’ve expected.
“Oh I know, daddy, I see the way you look at me… you didn’t answer my question though. How did I get here, huh? Did you slip something in that milkshake? Knock me out? Strip me down and get a good look at my little body?” You look at him with a Cheshire smile, and a gleam in your eye he’s never seen.
“Hey, I didn’t fuckin’ do any weird shit if that’s what you’re thinking, I want you fully aware of your surroundings the first time I have you. That is until I fuck you so good you forget everything but my name…”
“So kidnapping and drugging me isn’t considered weird? Got it.” You let out a breathy chuckle. “You know, I knew you wanted me, but I didn’t think you’d go this far. I have to say, daddy, it’s kind of hot.”
“The fuck you mean you knew?” His brows furrow, his nostrils slightly flare and you can tell you hit a nerve. But you just couldn’t keep up this clueless girl act anymore, not after he went to all these lengths just to get you. You needed him to know you wanted him just as bad.
“I mean, I’m not blind. You look at me like you want to put me in a cage and never let me go. You drive me home everyday. You offered to buy me new nails the first day you met me. Also, don’t think I didn’t notice how jealous you got when you saw that guy doing my pedicure. And guess what? The funny part is, you didn’t need the drugs to get me. I would’ve just let you take me.”
“You knew this entire time how badly I wanted you?” You nod and his hand reaches out to grip your jaw, rougher than before. “I told you to use your words, bunny.”
“Yes, I knew.” You smirk at him and he adjusts his grip so he’s pinching your cheeks.
“And you still continued to tease me like a little slut? Bend over and flash me your little panties every time you got out of my car? Always pushing those tits up against my arm and batting your lashes at me? Was that all some kind of act? You trynna scam me?” His hand migrates from your face to your throat, his thick fingers tightening against your esophagus deliciously.
“Daddy, no. It wasn’t an act at all. I want you so bad. Just wanted to see how far I could push you before you finally cracked. I have to say, you exceeded my expectations. I can’t believe you did all of this just for me. That’s so sexy.”
“Oh, so you’re just a little fuckin’ tease. That it?”
“I wasn’t teasing, you could’ve had me any time. You just got in your head that you had to carry out this elaborate scheme to keep me, when I’m already yours.” Rafe practically growls, he feels tricked, he feels frustrated that he risked hurting you with those drugs when you wanted him all along. But most of all? He’s so fucking horny.
“Well, I want you right fuckin’ now.” He uses his grip on your throat to push you onto your back and eases his body over top of yours.
Your breathing intensifies as you give him a small smirk. Of course you knew he wanted you. You may be a bimbo but you had common fucking sense. His blue eyes burned whenever he looked at you with a hunger that was impossible to deny. The material of his shirt rubbed against your bare skin, your slip riding up from his movements that left you pinned on the mattress under his mercy. His palm pressed against your throat felt heavenly, his fingers locked around the sides of your neck held you down posessively.
“You fucking slut. You liked it this the whole time. Liked playing with me. I’m gonna make you regret it.” Rafe flipped you over, grabbing your hips and yanking you up on your hands, your ass up in the air. Your pussy clenches around nothing before Rafe’s hand slaps your ass, hard enough to make you jolt forward as his other hand flies to your hair, holding you in place with a makeshift ponytail.
“Apologize to daddy. Say you’re sorry.” He growls and you want to be a brat and say no, but his fingers slide from your hair down, down, down to your entrance, sinking knuckle deep in your cunt. His two digits play inside you, curling in a come here motion and your slick welcomes him in further as his thumb brushes against your clit with a delicious pressure. “Mmm, wanna give you love, bunny, but you’ve been a bad girl.” He grunts and you whine with your face pressed against the bed.
“Sorry, daddy! I’m sorry I acted bad!” You shriek when he spanks you again, this time hard enough to leave a mark. He spanks you again, and again and again. Tears prick your eyes and you hear him shift as he releases you. You fall forward, crashing onto the blanket and you feel his hands take your ankles. He moves you around on your back, dragging you to the headboard.
“Dumb little kitty. Bet you’re so wet from this. Let’s see,” He gives you a predatory smile and shoves off his black tie. He pins your wrists down, using your weakness to his advantage as he loops it around your hands. He ties you to the headboard and his knee spreads your legs, making you feel the air on your damp panties.
Rafe breathes through his mouth in a taunting huff, “look at that. You’re such a little whore for me. Wet from me hurting you? Drugging you? God damn you’re so pathetic. I love it.”
As you jerk, trying to move you realize you’re completely trapped by him. Rafe looms over you, cupping your jaw. “Open your fucking mouth,” He hisses and you immediately obey. He spits inside, “swallow it. You’re good at that, aren’t you?” You shudder at his filthy words.
Rafe crawls down, sliding your panties down your legs. A groan escaping him at your sticky pussy on display for him as he spreads your knees.
“Mmmm, so good. You’re so worked up.” He situates himself on the bed, burying his mouth against you, his tongue lewdly licks at your clit like an ice cream cone. His heated lips suck at your center with loud moans as he grinds into the mattress.
Your hips buck, his nose continually brushing against the underside of your clit as he laps all around before thrusting his tongue inside your entrance, gathering every single ounce of precum he can get.
“Fuck, daddy. Feels so good, I needed this.” You barely manage and he chuckles.
“Desperate, huh? Needed daddy to fuck this tight little pussy? My little girl is such a good bunny.”
Your stomach tightens, a tightening coil in your belly growing the more he licks you up relentlessly. He rips away, whipping your juices from his chin. His cock inside his trousers looks painfully hard.
“I’m going to make you fucking scream.”
Rafe pushes himself up on his knees, easily ridding himself of his button up and then moving onto his slacks. Your eyes widen at the sight of his cock, you knew he’d be big, but it’s even better than you imagined. All those nights trying to stifle the moans of his name so your parents didn’t hear you.
“Fuck daddy, your cock is so pretty.” You’re practically drooling. “Fuck my mouth.”
He finds himself questioning if you’re even real at this point. His little angel all tied up and laid out, practically begging him to use your pretty mouth. He straddles your face, the head of his heavy cock brushes against your lips and you flick your tongue out. You moan at the taste of the bead of precum that gathered at the tip.
“Fuckin’ look at you, gonna let me use this little mouth?” He taps his cock against your outstretched tongue a few times before using his free hand to grip onto your hair, pulling your head back. “Open wide, slut.”
You stick your tongue out as far as it can go and he glides his length across it. He thrusts slow a few times before shoving his cock down your throat, causing you to gag.
“Yeah, that’s right, fucking choke on it.” You close your lips around him, taking a deep breath through your nose as he begins to assault your throat with rough thrusts. His groans are almost animalistic as he uses you for his own pleasure. You moan around his cock, clenching your thighs together at the feeling of being at his mercy. “Mmm bunny, this mouth is so fucking good. But I bet that little pussy is ever better. She was practically begging for me to fill her. Is that what you want?”
He uses his grip on your hair to pull you off his cock, leaning back so he can look down at you with a condescending pout.
“Please daddy, want it so bad. Want your cock, want your cum. Fill me up.” His large hand grips your face, punching your cheeks together as he tilts your head from side to side.
“You’re such a good little bunny, begging for daddy’s cock like my own personal little slut. That’s all you’re gonna be from now on. Mine to fill, to use, to fuck, to spoil. You’re never going to have to think about a single thing ever again.” He expertly undoes the tie binding your wrists, gripping onto your hips and flipping you onto your stomach again.
“Yes daddy, that’s all I want, just want you. Wanna be your good girl. Want you to take care of me.” You whine into the sheets. “Please fuck me daddy, please don’t make me wait any-“
You’re cut off abruptly when he pulls your ass up into the air, lining his cock up with your entrance. He fills you up in one rough thrust, your slick walls practically sucking him in. He doesn’t give you time to adjust before he’s fucking into you at a brutal pace.
“Oh fuck yeah, this fucking pussy is even better than I imagined. You’re so fucking tight, never gonna stop fucking you baby. Gonna keep you full day and night.”
“Daddy daddy daddy, it feels so good. So good. You’re so big.” You let him take you, his cock hitting that sweet spot inside of you over and over. You’re gripping the sheets so tight you’re scared your new nails are going to tear through them and drool is dripping down your chin and onto the fabric.
“Yeah, fucking take it, slut. Take this fucking dick.” He leans forward, his thick forearm snaking around your throat. He uses his grip on you to pull you up so your back is flush against his chest. You didn’t think anyone could ever be so deep inside of you, and the pressure on your throat makes your head light in the best way.
“Oh my god, daddy, I’m gonna cum.” His free hand finds your clit, and the minute he’s circling it your orgasm is crashing over you. You thrash in his hold, a pornographic moan ripping through you.
“Fuck yes angel, fucking cum for your daddy. Pussy is fucking squeezing me. Gonna make me cum. Look at me.” His hand leaves your clit, roughly gripping onto your jaw so he can pull your head to the side. It’s borderline painful the way your neck is craned so you can look up into his blue eyes. But when he smashes his lips against yours in a bruising kiss you can’t bring yourself to care.
Rafe continues to fuck into you, his tongue invading your mouth, intertwining with yours. He pushes his hips flush against your ass as he reaches his high, filling you with ropes of his cum.
“That’s it, good fucking girl. You're so good for me.” He releases your throat, pulling out of you slowly, causing you to whine. He eases you onto your back, leaning over top of you to place a much more tender kiss than before on your lips. “Let me clean you up baby.”
He gets up, quickly wetting a washcloth in the ensuite bathroom. He rushes back to your side, running the warm cloth along your folds.
“Mmm thank you, daddy. That feels nice.” You hum.
“Yeah? Gotta take care of my angel, you’re my responsibility now. I’m going to do everything and anything you need.” He lays down next to you, pulling you into his side so you can rest your head on his chest. “I am sorry about the way I went about this. But I’d do it again in a heartbeat. The first day I saw you I knew I needed to have you. Knew you were meant for me.”
“I feel the same, daddy. All you had to do is ask. Although, I must admit, it was honestly pretty sexy this way. You might be observant but there’s still a lot you have to learn about me.” You happily nuzzle into his chest. You’ve never felt so safe before. “I love my room by the way, it’s perfect. Does this mean I don’t get to sleep with you though?” You pout.
“Of course you get to sleep with me, Angel. I just wanted you to have a space of your own here.” He runs his fingers through your hair, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. “There’s going to be ground rules that I want you to follow, but we can go over those when you’re more clear headed. Wanna take a bath?”
“Yeah Rafey, a bath sounds nice.”
#rafe Cameron#rafe cameron x reader#rafe x reader#rafe obx#rafe outer banks#rafe imagine#rafe smut#rafe fanfiction#rafe x you#rafe fic#dark!rafe cameron#dark!rafe x reader#dark!Rafe Cameron x reader#Morgy🩸
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SAY YES TO ME ~ ❀ ·˚
content/warnings. 1.7k+ wc | husband!reo x gn!reader | characters are aged up to late twenties | just lovesick reo asking you to be his valentine's date :> | pure fluff | minimal proofread
𓆩♡𓆪 in which: your husband, reo, just knows exactly how to make you say yes.
For the first time in his life, Reo had never been happier to be the CEO of his company.
He couldn't recall feeling as alive even when he first inherited the position. While he appreciated the benefits and authority, nothing compared to the freedom of controlling his own time.
As soon as the clock struck 12 pm, Reo sprang to his feet, driven by a sense of purpose akin to a man on a mission. His determined strides echoed against the perfectly marbled tiles of his office floor as he made his way to the elevator. It was five hours earlier than his usual clock-out time, but today was an exception.
Because today was Valentine’s Day— and he had better plans than sitting around skimming through papers that hardly made any sense anymore because his mind was already consumed with thoughts of you, as if he didn’t spend most of his time doing exactly that anyway.
Before finally leaving his office floor, Reo made a beeline for his secretary’s desk to ensure the finishing touches were being made according to his instructions.
“Everything must be ready before we arrive,” he declared to his secretary, his tone more of a command than a request. This was serious business, after all. In fact, none of the investor deals he signed earlier this day would measure up to the importance of this one task at hand.
“Yes, sir,” his secretary replied cautiously.
Satisfied, he stepped into the elevator. His eagerness to see you was so evident— anyone can tell. He wasn’t hiding it, not even trying one bit to do so. From the way he pressed the lobby button twice, checked his watch incessantly for the past few hours, and tapped his wingtip against the elevator floor as if its speed could hasten his journey home— everyone can tell that his very own company building was the last place on earth he wanted to be.
Well, he supposed anyone with someone precious waiting for them at home would understand his seemingly pathetic behavior.
Pathetic, lovesick, whipped— you’ve reduced him to every synonym for such.
Not that it concerns him; what's more concerning is that he's not bothered by any perception tied to it. If he hadn't outgrown that teenage angst and was still chasing bits to fuel his ego, then it would have been a different story. He would have been hypersensitive to what bystanders thought of him. Now, older and wiser, he couldn’t care less about what they meant to prying eyes or big tabloids. None of their opinions were yours, so none of them mattered.
The journey back home was tenfold more insufferable than the time spent in the elevator. He kept his eye on his chauffeur in the rear-view mirror, and if he squinted enough, he could see the beads of nervous sweat forming at the poor man’s temple. He sighed to himself, seemingly reprimanding his own improper behavior. Hell, what was happening to him? He wasn't even an impatient man to begin with. All because of Valentine’s Day—all because he couldn’t wait to see you.
He got it real bad, as his longtime best friend would like to say. One he couldn't find it in himself to deny. It was true, anyway.
He didn't know when or where it started, but one random night four years ago, he woke up in a cold sweat, and the realization that he was hell deep in love with you gnawed on his center to his throat. So in love it set his heart on fire, all while being in love with the one person who lit the match.
Rumors were true— love never aligned with logic, intricate planning, none of what he excelled at as a businessman. And so, he abandoned logic and acted exactly as his heart had been urging him to.
The very moment the sun peeked over the horizon that fateful day, he was on his feet, his jet waiting to fly him to wherever the finest diamond engagement rings reside.
It was the best decision he had ever made in his life because if he hadn’t, then he wouldn’t be standing at the entrance of your shared home, his grin widening with each approaching step he hears. You’re bustling around the house just to welcome him home—so, no, he couldn’t have it any other way. The mere thought of doing things differently made his heart leap into his throat, while a hollow feeling settled in his chest.
“Love! Welcome home!” you greet him, your lively voice warming Reo’s heart as it makes its way to him.
Even before you could throw your arms around his shoulders and kiss him senselessly to welcome him home, you're met with a bundle of red roses he had taken from his back.
“You shouldn’t have bothered,” you blushed, resembling the vibrant flowers he bought on the way home.
“Nothing is ever a bother when it comes to you,” he mused, big amethyst eyes sparkling back at you.
Ever the sweet talker, you looked at your husband who was now peering over you and the roses you’re cradling.
“Okay, Mr. Charming. To what occasion do I owe this?” you play pretend, your voice tinged with playful curiosity.
Instead of an immediate response, you felt his hands traveling to the small of your back, pulling you close against his embrace. His lips grazed your cheek, before whispering in your ear, “Be my Valentine?”
Here he goes again, you thought. “I’ve been married to you for the last four years, if I remember correctly,” you pointed out to him, keeping your smile to yourself.
That’s not a yes. Huffing, Reo pulled back from your hug to look you in the eye, “Your point being? There are no rules in marriage that say I can no longer ask you on Valentine’s day– if I remember correctly,” and he even had the pettiness to mock your tone.
“Wow, my husband is a bit sassy today, isn’t he?”
My husband, he repeats in his mind, and just like that, all sassiness and pettiness came flying straight out of the window. “I love being your husband,” he blurted out, totally unrelated to your previous banter.
“Oh, really, now?” you teased, feigning the warmth it sent to your chest.
He does, truly and definitely. A man like him is widely known for what he has– for the possessions under his name and for the power it holds. Yet here he was, wrapped around your arms, and suddenly, being your husband has been the best he has been called and known for.
There was no weight, no expectations, and no pressure tied to it— just love dripping in every letter. There’s no one he would rather be.
“Yeah, am I doing a great job?” smiling at you, he asks, “I’m not losing the charms, am I?”
“Trust me, you’re very much good at it,” you fondly brushed the strands of hair covering his eyes, “and you’re not losing the charms,” you quoted.
“Really? So if I were to ask again, would you say yes?”
“With or without your ‘charms’, you know exactly how to make me say yes.”
Reo let out a hearty laugh at your remark. “You’re right,” his fingers reached out to your left ring finger, where his oath of forever lay glimmering.
God— he really did that. He put a ring on it. It was his name next to yours, his rings on your hand, his bed you share, and his forever you spend with. Four years and more to come, but Reo was certain he would never get over it.
Before his rationality left him and wrecked his own plans, Reo caressed your back, his hands moving dangerously low down your hip and giving it a squeeze, “Still wanna hear it from you though,” he mumbled softly against your lips, “So, what do you say in letting this poor man take you on a date as his valentine?”
You drew closer to his hold, your arms finding their place around his neck, hands occupied with the flowers now resting on his back, “I say,” you pressed your lips as if trying to think, “I’d like some kiss and maybe hear a please first—”
You couldn’t even finish teasing him because in a heartbeat, Reo closed the distance, seizing your lips in a fierce, hungry kiss drowning out the sound of words with an intensity that left no room for second guessing his invitation. Nothing about Mikage Reo was silent and subtle– not even when he kissed you. It had to be breathless, deep, urgent, and parting your lips in surrender.
His hands found their way, trailing with purpose along your spine, while his other traced the curve of your jaw with a feather-light touch. Teasing fingers then tangled in your hair, pulling you closer, desperate for more.
He pulled back first, leaving you light-headed. He flashed you one smirk, lips almost melting into yours.
“Please?”
Fuck. You didn’t need to be asked thrice. You nodded your head aimlessly, earning a chuckle from him. “Go then, pack some clothes. Our jet is waiting for us.”
“Jet? Did you mean car?” Where the hell was he taking you to use a jet for?
Seemingly reading the question on your face, he answered, “I know what I said, love. We’re going to Paris.”
“What?!” you exclaimed, squirming from his hold completely, “We could just dine somewhere close, Reo.”
Now, who told you he only had dinner in mind? Who did you take him for? You shouldn’t be surprised anymore— there’s nothing in this world that would come close to the satisfaction he got from spending lavishly on you. It was a reminder that he could and most certainly would give you everything you wanted. “You don’t like Paris?”
You tried to reason, heavy on the try so it seemed because you soon realized it was a mistake clarifying your point, “I mean, I do but—”
“I think I heard enough, love,” a sheepish smile formed on his lips, “I’ll wait for you here, alright?”
You rolled your eyes at him before retreating to your shared bedroom to prepare for freaking Paris. Of course, you're going. There’s really no winning against him, you’ve known that ever since. He longed to prove to you that he always had the irresistible charm of making you say yes.
Not that you'd ever thought of saying no. The ring weighing your finger down could attest to that.
note. been seeing people saying their partners no longer ask them valentines bec they're tgt alr... reo would never do that btw do better
another note (pls tolerate me). i'm pretty sure i'm fighting for my life when this gets posted (it's qd!!) so here's me wishing all of you a happy hearts day 🩷
#💌 valentine's special '24#mikage reo#reo mikage#mikage reo x reader#reo mikage x reader#mikage reo fluff#mikage reo x y/n#blue lock imagines#blue lock x reader#bllk imagines#bllk x reader#blue lock fluff
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𝓹𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮 | laszlo kreizler x reader
𝓼𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂 | being a traditional, well-behaved woman, you saved yourself for marriage. but the things your new husband has planned for you are... less than traditional, and might just show how poorly behaved you can be.
𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽 | over 9k
𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 | SMUT (18+ only!!), virginity loss, age gap (unspecific; laszlo is in his 40s, reader is probably 20-25), multiple orgasms/overstimulation, fingering, oral f receiving, squirting, shy/innocent reader, religious reader (but nothing tooo shame-y or anything), some innocence kink, a hint of medical kink?, slightly pervy laszlo?!?! (moreso he's just a wee bit of a weirdo and says some cringe stuff but like. that's just his vibe sorry)
Laszlo was such an impossible paradox of a man. Especially compared to the sort of man you always thought you’d marry— what you’d been raised for, even.
An accomplished doctor, a successful and wealthy man of high social standing— a kind, sensitive, intelligent, and patient partner who made you feel beautiful and special and, for lack of a better word, fancy. That part was exactly as you’d always imagined for yourself, though you had never really believed you could find someone so wonderful.
And then there was the other half of him, the pieces that even in your wildest dreams you would’ve never thought would make up your future husband. First of all, he was quite a bit older than you. Even your parents, who had always preferred for you to marry someone already established (as they put it) rather than your own age, were a little concerned that he was in his mid-forties, and only a year younger than your father. Of course, that was nothing compared to their offense at his profession, and the subsequent open-mindedness he had towards people your parents would rather pretend didn’t exist. Then again, Laszlo himself having his disability made him the sort of person they would rather pretend didn’t exist, though he’d managed to hide it relatively well.
Maybe they could’ve forgiven any of that. It was the atheism that put the final nail in the coffin, unfortunately… and someone as brash and unapologetic as Laszlo had no interest in hiding his beliefs to appease your parents. He hadn’t brought it up, of course, or protested to the crucifixes and cross-stitched scriptures on the walls; but when they’d asked if he was Catholic or Protestant, he told them directly that he was a man of science and didn’t entertain any metaphysical notions or, as he’d so thoughtfully put it, fantasies.
They instantly forbade the courtship and warned you never to see him again. And maybe that was when he surprised you most— he was so romantic, so… dashing. He took a carriage to your home and literally threw pebbles at your window, daring you to climb down the lattice and join him for a midnight adventure. It was then he suggested that you marry him anyways— he had more than enough to take care of you after a disownment from your parents. He promised to give you anything you wanted, to treat you perfectly, to spend every day trying to keep you as happy as you made him without even trying.
There it was again, the contradictory enigma of Laszlo Kreizler. A serious, even stern man, proposing to you like a lovestruck teenager. He had eschewed fantasies a few evenings ago only to turn around and ask you to jump headfirst into a fairytale.
You said yes, though. You really didn’t think twice about it— you knew he would be good to you. And you knew you’d never loved someone like you’d loved him before.
You wanted to run away right then and there, but he told you to go home for a few more days, to gather your things— he would send for them while your parents were out, and you could move in with him as soon as you were ready.
When you did move in, though, he seemed a little surprised that you asked for your things to be moved to a spare bedroom.
“Is everything alright?” he asked you softly, stepping closer to you as you crossed your arms over yourself nervously; you waited until you were sure Cyrus was out of earshot, carrying your bags away, before you answered.
“Yes,” you replied quietly, “everything’s fine.”
“It’s understandable if you’re feeling conflicted now,” Laszlo assured. “Having just left your parents, and not knowing if you’ll see them again—”
“It’s not that,” you promised. “Well— of course, I feel something about that, but I’m happy to be here with you. That’s not my issue at all.”
“Then what is?” he pressed. “I hope you feel that you can tell me.”
You sighed as he reached up to brush your cheek; his touch always soothed you, though it felt a bit different here, in his home. Your new home. “I just… wouldn’t feel right about being in your room, until we’re married.”
He nodded. “Of course. I shouldn’t have presumed.”
You smiled a little, though it was more out of nervousness than anything. “I… I wondered if you thought my parents were the only reason that we never— that nothing had—”
“Shh,” he soothed, pushing your hair back from your face until you looked up at him. “I don’t expect anything from you now. Well, only that you do whatever you like to make yourself feel at home here.”
“And what… what will you expect from me once I am your wife, Dr. Kreizler?”
Though you were a little afraid to, you met his gaze; his brown eyes seemed deeper than ever, and you were powerless to look away from them. “What do you think is right to give me, when you are my wife?”
You sighed a little, feeling his hand on your cheek move carefully down to your neck, his gentle fingers brushing along the smallest part of your collarbone exposed by your dress. Words escaped you; you wanted him to know that just because you wanted to wait for him didn’t mean you didn’t want him. Even before, even when you first met him, your mind had supplied you with thoughts that sent you straight to the confession booth.
You wanted to be one with him in every way you could think of… you just needed some to come before others, to feel right with your own beliefs. Even if you loved an atheist, and felt surprisingly little guilt for it, you were still religious yourself and wanted to honor God’s intention for marriage.
Didn’t mean you couldn’t yearn for your soon-to-be husband, right? It certainly didn’t mean you couldn’t enjoy the full benefits of physical intimacy when the time came.
But obviously, you were far from brave enough to say all that. Instead, you found your hands wandering to his chest, following the pattern of his suit coat up to his shoulders, biting your lip without even realizing it. He simply continued to watch you, and you got the feeling that he understood you better than you could explain it yourself. One of the bonuses of being loved by an expert on the human mind, perhaps.
You were almost in a trance, not noticing how long you were spending just gently touching and holding him in this simple way— until you looked up and met his gaze again, and felt a little weak. “Can we marry soon?” you asked softly, almost under your breath. You hoped he wouldn’t tease you, you weren’t secure enough for him to mock your obvious eagerness, to call attention to your desire for him. Thankfully, he stayed perfectly serious, because he was just as affected as you were.
“As soon as you like,” he replied earnestly.
It was probably for the best that Cyrus walked in to the parlor at that moment, and you instinctively pulled back from Laszlo, crossing your arms again. “Your bags are in the downstairs bedroom, madam,” he informed you, “down the hallway under the stairs.”
You nodded at him as Laszlo responded, “Thank you, Cyrus. That will be all.”
He left, and you looked at your fiance again, feeling a bit silly for what he’d seen in you a moment before. But he smiled at you, and you figured he’d be the last person to judge you for any of that. “I’ll give you a little time to unpack and freshen up, if you like,” he offered. “I hope you’ll join me for dinner at seven this evening. I believe we’ll be having quail.”
“Of course— thank you,” you smiled, watching him begin to turn to depart. But for a second, he hesitated— like he didn’t want to leave you— and you prayed he wouldn’t kiss you. It’s not that you didn’t want him to… you wanted him to more than anything. He’d only kissed you once before, at the end of a particularly exhilarating night out together, and you hadn’t stopped thinking about it for a moment since.
So no, it wasn’t that you didn’t want him to kiss you. It was only that, if he did, you knew you’d have trouble letting it be just a kiss.
Therefore, you were just as relieved as you were disappointed when he departed without incident.
///
A few days later, you eloped. You hadn’t felt much urge to have a ‘proper’ wedding when no one you knew approved of the marriage anyway— they were all too deep in your parents’ pocket, unfortunately. And even if anyone cared enough to come, Laszlo refused to be wed in a church (you thought maybe he would bend on it if you really begged, he was overall quite accommodating to you, but it wasn’t worth your trouble) and so it would’ve just been another scandal.
Truly, you were just as happy this way— it was the happiest day of your life, really. You left the courthouse as Mrs. Kreizler, wearing a stunning silver band he’d had engraved with your new initials and flowering vines all around in a swirling, whimsical pattern. His band was simpler, but you loved it even more— just because it was his, and seeing him wearing it made your heart skip all day.
Anticipation for your wedding night only grew with every passing moment. Laszlo himself was in the bathroom with the door shut— you heard the sink running, the various sounds of him preparing for bed. You were just trying to get your heart to slow down, trying not to have any specific goals or expectations for the evening. Today had already been perfect.
But, of course, it was hard not to imagine what was next for the two of you— your things had already been moved into his room. A vanity had been placed in it as well, a wedding gift from Sara Howard (a friend of Laszlo’s you had become acquainted with during this whirlwind romance), and you were using it now as you prepared yourself for bed. You were already in your nightgown, having changed after Laszlo left the room (not that you had to, but it felt more natural that way), and you were carefully unpinning your hair from its meticulous style.
As you concluded the final steps of your evening routine, you saw the bathroom door open behind you in your reflection; your husband emerged, wearing an embroidered silk robe that offered a view of a sliver of his chest— not very much, but more than you’d ever seen. You didn’t notice the way your thighs pressed against each other more tightly; he approached you slowly, and you eventually turned to look at him directly. With you still sitting on the vanity’s padded stool, he towered over you when he stood close… and as you lifted your head to look up at him, his hand brushed softly along your jaw. You tilted into his touch just a bit, smiling at him while your heart fluttered.
“You’re so beautiful, mein Schatz,” he whispered, and you felt a little giddy when he talked like that— he’d only ever indulged you in his German after having a few drinks, so this instance caught you off-guard in the best way. Not to mention he’d called you Schatz before— treasure, apparently, and a common term of endearment— but he’d never tagged it with mein before. And you were his, truly. You were glad he’d waited to say it until it was actually true (even if, in a certain sense, it was already true before).
He motioned, rather subtly, for you to stand up. It seemed simple enough, but you felt a little shaky as you did it— a nervous excitement, like the kind you would feel before a piano recital or debutante ball. Except those were all public engagements, and this was as private as anything could be.
Touching your face again, he wove his fingers back around your neck, his thumb cradling your jaw right in front of your ear. And he kissed you— just like that, quick at first but then slowing down as you both sighed a bit.
You admired how easily he’d done it, and thank god for it, because you would’ve spent quite a while working up the courage. This was different from the night you’d kissed him after a few weeks of seeing each other— it was very different from the kiss you’d shared at the courthouse earlier that day. It would’ve made sense if there was a sense of neediness to it, as if he were making up for lost time or relieving all the anticipation for this night. But really, it was all rather relaxed, at least on his part. Like he had all the time in the world: which, you know, he did.
You, on the other hand… you were feeling a bit more out of your element. Not that you weren’t enjoying this new one so far, it was just a little unfamiliar.
His hand floated lower and traced down your back— delicately, with the tips of his fingers brushing your skin through the thin fabric until chills started to run over you. You gasped a little into the kiss, and put your hands on the patterned lapels of his robe; you didn’t actually push him away, but he pulled back as if you had, examining your face carefully for a moment.
You hadn’t needed him to stop, but you were a little glad he did: just a moment’s break from it all before it became overwhelming. His fingers still traced gentle shapes on your lower back through the nightgown, and you found your gaze drifting to his chest, to your hands resting on it— and your own fingertips ventured into the exposed piece of his chest. His skin was paler here, with a reddish-blondish patch of hair just starting to be visible. You touched it, taking a quick and shaky breath, and wondered why something inside you tightened as you pet him here. He was so… masculine. His looks weren’t sweet and boyish, no: he was broad and strong (he would deny that one if you said it, but to you he was) and sharp around the edges, and it was something you never expected to excite you so much.
But you loved that you could still feel a bit of friction from his beard after he’d kissed you. You loved the subtle scent of his cologne, how sturdy he felt under your touch.
Your hands drifted up to his face, fingers brushing through his hair slowly, and he smiled at you. His hair was just a bit long for what was typical of men these days, and you enjoyed combing through the dark brown locks and noticing the little golden highlights in the dimmed light of the room.
The hand on your hip pulled you closer, pressing your body against his, and you tried your best to relax into the warm strength of his form while your heart kept racing.
When he kissed you again, he moved in slowly, watching your face before his own eventually met with it, and you fluttered your eyes shut as his lips gently pressed to yours. This time, you found yourself leaning in for more, kissing him back with more passion; you let out a little dampened moan when his tongue brushed against your bottom lip, taking the next opportunity to gently move further into your mouth.
He broke away all too soon, embracing you even tighter, pressing his cheek to yours. And when you, in turn, wrapped your arms around him and pressed yourself against him everywhere you could… you felt it.
Even if you had very little knowledge about this sort of thing, you understood what that hard, curved shape was, pressed just above where your hip met your stomach. You knew what it was, and your body did too— heat pooled at your core, every touch awakening you even more.
“Oh,” you sighed shakily, holding tighter onto him to just have something to hold onto.
“It's alright,” he whispered, soft words floating on his breath which tickled under your ear. “It's alright, my darling, I won't hurt you.”
You hummed softly in return, nodding as his lips brushed over your cheek, then moved to your neck. “I know,” you replied. “I trust you, Laszlo.”
But you couldn't help but gasp when his tongue teased your pulse, his teeth gently grazing the most delicate places they could find. His grip at your waist tightened when you whimpered. “Is this pleasurable to you?” he asked softly; even such a formal statement made you shudder when he said it in that low, buttery voice…
You nodded, your back arching slightly to press yourself against him, but you felt him smile against you suddenly.
“I'd like for you to say it,” he explained, an unfamiliar darkness to his voice.
“It's… pleasurable,” you panted. “When you kiss me there… it's like I feel every touch s-somewhere else—”
“Where, my love?”
“Here,” you sighed, grabbing his hand from your back and moving it between your legs. He instantly cupped and rubbed your mound, and your knees nearly buckled from the pleasure.
“Mein Gott, you're so sensitive,” he observed, his own voice sounding a little strained, “I've hardly touched you.”
“L-Laszlo, just touch me more,” you pleaded.
Though he’d been so careful until that moment, he suddenly started to pull up the skirt of your nightgown rather hastily, nostrils flaring as he bent down slightly and worked to hoist the fabric up. Finally, he got under it, but teased you by rubbing and groping at your thighs instead; under his breath, you just barely heard a growl before he began to kiss your neck again.
“Even if both my hands were strong, I'd wish for more to touch you with,” he mumbled against your skin. “I'd still want to cover you entirely, reach every part of you at once.”
Well, you liked the sound of that, but one hand was doing you plenty of good already— especially when it slid back up to cup you again, making you sigh and moan as his fingers slipped through your folds, spreading your abundant wetness all around.
Desperate to return even a portion of the sensation he was giving to you, you placed your hand against the bulge in his trousers. Though the shape and firmness of him made you gasp excitedly, he only let you rub it for a few moments before sighing and moving your hand away. “Not yet, my darling,” he instructed. “It's best if we take this one step at a time, for now.”
You felt a little silly, having to be held back like that, but you nodded. He obviously knew better than you about all this.
It was almost too much, the way he was touching you: you had your arms wrapped tight around his shoulders to try to keep yourself upright, frankly. And yet, for how overwhelming it was, you heard yourself saying—
“More, please,” you begged, “I-I need you, just give me more, please—”
“I will,” he promised roughly, “but not here. I think it’s only right that I take you to bed, hm?”
If you weren’t all worked up, you might’ve made some witty comment about how at least the bed’s not too far or whatever— but no, you just let him guide you the few steps to the mattress, and you sat on it as you simply awaited further orders. So little that he’d done to you, and you’d already do whatever he asked in exchange for continued attention.
You watched him roll up his sleeve— it took him a little while with the weaker hand, but you didn’t mind letting this moment last— and didn’t even notice the way your mouth had gone slack, you were nearly salivating. “Lay back, darling,” he instructed simply, still looking at his sleeve as he finally folded it up to his elbow, “and open your legs.”
You obeyed, of course, and bit absent-mindedly on your lip as you slowly lifted your knees and parted your thighs. There was no point being shy now, of course— and you were more than eager for him to get back to doing what he had been before— but you still felt a nervous hesitance that made your hands (and heart) shake slightly. Something about stopping to get in the bed had brought a bit of sobriety to the moment, and you realized in retrospect how desperate you must have looked. Surely he wouldn’t hold that against you…
He lifted your skirt again, up to your hips, and hummed lowly at the sight of your sex. Your face burned hotter; you liked the way he touched it, but you didn’t feel entirely comfortable with him… staring at it.
Still, it was the sort of slight discomfort that felt oddly… good? Yes, you were a bit embarrassed and exposed at the moment, but it felt wrong in that fun, naughty sort of way; it made your hips shift a little, presumably in hopes of some friction. Thankfully, their wish was answered: his hand was on you again, pulling your lips apart, slowly exploring you until your eyes fluttered shut.
“May I touch you inside as well?” he asked— as if there was any risk of you turning that offer down.
“Y-yes, Laszlo, please,” you whispered, whimpering as you felt the tip of his pointer finger— suddenly it seemed a little thicker than you remembered— press up to your entrance and ever so gently slide inside.
“Just one to start,” he narrated softly as that one finger made your toes curl, only one finger making your hips twist and your back arch. How could he do that to you so easily? “And my thumb can help with this lovely little organ you have…”
His thumb circled your bud, and you shuddered all over— even inside— and instantly struggled to catch your breath. “Laszlo, what… what is that…” you breathed, whimpering when he rubbed it again.
“Your clitoris, my love— you’ve never touched here before?”
He should’ve known you hadn’t— even if you had… explored yourself out of childish curiosity probably a decade ago, you would’ve remembered if it felt like this. Shaking your head, you were surprised by his little growl.
“Your poor girl,” he cooed, something a little attractive about the slight condescension of it. “You have so much to learn. I can’t even imagine the things you’ve never felt before…”
He slowly moved the pad of his thumb up and down over the flesh, which only grew firmer as he continued. “Oh!” you whimpered, hips rocking back against his touch— it was so wild of you, you thought, but you couldn’t really stop yourself. He pressed harder and your whole body jumped. “Fuck!”
He laughed a little, and your face got warmer. “I’ve never heard you use language like that, Schatz, but it sounds impossibly adorable when you say it.”
“I-I’m sorry,” you began, “I couldn’t help it—”
“No, don’t apologize,” he insisted, “I’d rather you said it again. Whenever you can’t help it, of course.”
You knew that Laszlo knew more than you about many topics, being a highly-educated man of great intellect, but you hadn’t expected him to introduce you to an entirely new body part that you’d been carrying with you this whole time. If you’d figured out how to do anything like this to yourself, you might have spent your entire adolescence trapped in your room, so maybe it was for the best that you never put it together.
You weren't sure how any woman was meant to learn these things— you figured she wasn't meant to, unfortunately— but if she had a choice, you'd certainly recommend this method, provided she could find her own husband to try it with rather than borrowing yours. What a visceral and beautiful way to learn how much that little organ could really do: Laszlo rubbing it with his thumb, with just the right amount of pressure to make a loud moan crawl out of you.
“The noises you make are just delightful, my darling,” he praised. “Keep going, so I know what I should do.”
“Just do that,” you begged, “just keep doing that.”
“Only this?” he pressed. “I shouldn't even add another finger?”
Of course, that was when he did— gently pressing his middle finger to your opening until it accommodated it, and you heard your own high-pitched whine in disbelief that you'd made the sound. “F-fuck, that feels… Laszlo, you're so—”
But you interrupted yourself, because he did something so diabolical with his fingers just then. He'd only twisted and scissored them inside you for a moment before curling them up, rubbing the most delicate place you never knew you had— just as he pushed down harder on your poor clit. You felt ravenous all of a sudden, terribly overwhelmed but greedy for more.
“Please, oh god, please—” you started to beg before you even knew what you wanted. He knew what you wanted, and he gave it to you: more. It wasn't even very significant of a movement, and yet it turned your whole body into his plaything as you started to shake all over.
“You react more than I ever expected, my darling,” he cooed. “I never dreamed how well you would respond to my touch. I've only just begun and I think you're already nearly there.”
Before you could wonder where he was talking about, he pulled his fingers out of you carefully. You heard yourself whimper a little, opening your eyes and looking at him worriedly. He smiled, seeming to enjoy how much his interruption seemed to bother you; “Take off your nightgown, my love,” he requested plainly. “I think I’d like to get a good look at you before I go on.”
Sitting up (and finding your head a bit more dizzy than you expected), you started by unbuttoning from your neck halfway down to your chest, before lifting the thin garment up over your head slowly. You felt so strange doing this— undressing in front of a man— but your heart pounded with hope that he would enjoy what he saw. Tossing the dress aside, you sheepishly bit your lip and waited for his assessment as his dark brown eyes grazed over your nude form.
He moved a little closer, his hand running up your leg and then around your side, reaching up to carefully cup one of your breasts. You breathed deeply but unevenly, your chest rising and falling against his touch. You were almost nervous that he hadn’t said anything yet, but the look in his eyes just became more and more clear; you whimpered under your breath when his fingers brushed over your hardened nipple, ever-so-delicately pinching it until your hips shifted a bit in response. “How beautiful you are, my love,” he whispered, making you squirm again with just his words. “Is it true you’re really my wife? This lovely, delicate body that only I can touch and caress, laying next to me every night… I don’t know when I’ll really believe it.”
You had to shut your eyes for a second— you might be too brash if he kept on like that, praising you so tenderly. “You could’ve been a poet,” you told him with a little smirk, blinking open your eyes again as he guided you to lay back once more, “if medicine didn’t suit you.”
“Oh, I’m no poet, Schatz,” he smiled in return, taking one more careful squeeze of your other breast before moving down to pet inside your legs again. “All I am is painfully honest.”
His fingers slid inside you again, and you could’ve sworn he was rubbing inside you a bit more firmly than he had been before— thrusting a little faster, pushing a little deeper. And all the while he was staring down at you, back and forth between your face and your hole, with a delicious darkness in his eyes.
It was still a patient endeavor, so much so that you never really noticed that he was getting a little quicker and rougher with it. You really didn’t figure it out until you heard yourself choking out his name, groaning and gasping louder than you meant to— but you couldn’t suppress it very well, either.
You soon began to realize what he meant before with that nearly there comment, without even having any prior knowledge of what it could be… there was something instinctive about it, something totally natural. You didn’t know what was coming, but you understood it; you knew you were on the edge of something and that if you could just get there it would be perfect.
Still, you couldn’t have known how much you would enjoy it.
You couldn’t stop moaning— it was this all-surrounding, ecstatic feeling, like… sinking into something. Relaxing into something… something warm and soft and good. Even a lifetime of religious repression couldn’t convince you this was anything but perfect. Actually, nothing had ever felt right quite the way this did.
Your back arched rather dramatically, until you had a good view of the headboard upside-down; and he gave you few more fast, rough pumps of his fingers into your shaking body before slowing down to a stop and letting you rest.
Suddenly drained, you melted back down onto the bed with a long whine. “How did that feel?” he asked, sounding a little formal about it, and you only could muster a little, exhausted laugh because what did he think you were going to say? ‘It was alright, tickled a little bit, but I didn’t mind it.’
“That was… you… you’re so—” you began a few times, giving up to open your eyes wide when his fingers pet up and down over the seam of your lips, gently exploring you, making you quiver from how sensitive you’d become. You weren’t even done recovering from the stimulation and he was giving you more; he seemed sort of absent-minded about it, the way he gently and repetitively slid up and down and up and down through your slick and swollen folds… but it was deliberate, you knew it was, because he smiled when you moaned weakly.
One finger pressed inside you again, and he watched your face closely and you shuddered. You were just the slightest bit sore, and it felt like that one finger was more of a stretch than before… which seemed impossible, but with the erratic pulsing of your walls, it was a little hard to keep track.
You gasped sharply when he put the second finger in you once more, almost snarling a bit as he watched you react so strongly. “Laszlo, I— I don't think I can do that again—”
“You can, I'm sure of it,” he encouraged, curling his fingers inside of you, which required a bit more force with your channel bearing down against him in response. “It might even come faster this time, that little spot is all swollen now—”
Before he could finish that sentence, he proved it by circling the place, making your hips jump up as another whine eked out of you. “O-oh, I— fuck…”
He smirked a bit, a delicious smugness to his expression, and the emotion looked much too good on him. “See? Just let me take control, my love. I think you'll like what I do, if you simply let me do what I like with you.”
Fuck, that had to be the most beautiful thing you'd ever heard. You were biting your lip to try to keep back the flood of terribly embarrassing things your pleasure wanted to say for you: you can do whatever you like with me; I'm yours; I'd do anything for you; don't ever stop, but also if you don't fuck me soon I might lose my mind, you know, things of that nature. Instead you let out a muffled moan, and nodded to make sure he knew that he had your permission for whatever he thought was best.
And, of course, he’d been right about you: that you’d be even more sensitive after coming, and would be able to go through it all over again. It only took probably a minute or two of dedicated, precise stimulation for the feeling to grow again… except it felt a little stronger this time, like it was building past the point that it had broken at before. Maybe your tolerance was higher, or something? You really weren’t qualified to say— all you could think about was this sensation, this tension, and the way he looked at you as you started to shake all over.
Your eyes fell shut instinctively, your shaking hands clutching at the bed under you; you felt sort of numb all over, except instead of everything being dulled and distant, it was only heightened.
“O-oh, oh, Laszlo, I—” you tried to warn him, words escaping you as the heavy, almost sharp feeling gathered tighter and tighter…
“Give into it,” he insisted, “it’s alright— I want to see it. I want to hear you, I want to feel you when you come—”
His voice was getting darker, rougher, more demanding as he went on; and in the same way, his fingers’ thrusts into you became more aggressive. “Fuck, I— I think I’ll— oh god!” you yelped.
“Yes,” he encouraged, “let go, darling!”
Your arms flailed around for a second before finding a lump in the sheets to grab onto tightly, your hips rocking against his hand, your head falling back in a scream; it was so intense, and so sudden, and you felt like the pressure that had been building broke so violently that it would’ve been painful without all the ecstasy running through your veins, numbing you inside and out.
You could tell that this one was different— hotter, warmer, wetter— but you had no idea what you’d done until the high had started to fade just a bit.
His hand slowed down to a stop, you heard him quietly catching his breath, and you blinked your eyes open… that’s when you noticed small wet stains on his rolled-up sleeve, and shiny fluid along his forearm— and a very proud grin on his face.
You felt your eyes go wide and your cheeks start baking. He spoke up before you could even try to process what to say: “That was excellent, my love— I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so magnificent,” he praised. “You’re incredible.”
You wanted to believe him, but it didn’t really offer much explanation. “Laszlo, I… did I—?”
“No, darling, don’t worry,” he cooed, scooting a little closer on the bed as he pet the inside of your thigh. “It’s natural— one of the… rarer ways that a woman’s body can respond to stimulation. I’ve always found the concept fascinating, but until now, my knowledge was… purely theoretical. Actually, I’d love to gather your perspective on the experience, possibly for a future research paper on the topic— but that’s an issue for another time. There’s a more pressing matter I need to discuss with you.”
You raised an eyebrow, curious what matter could be discussed in a time like this.
“I… I'd like to try something else,” he announced, and you dropped your head back on the bed in a sort of defeat.
“Something else?!” you whimpered, still catching your breath from the last thing he had “tried”. “What else could there be but making love?”
“That will be soon, I promise, I just… I can't resist such an opportunity,” he explained. “Your scent is so erotic, and it's only grown stronger now that you’ve so generously covered my arm in your ecstasy. And with anything that smells so delectable, one can't help but crave to taste it.”
You'd only heard about this before— sort of a dirty schoolyard secret, almost an urban legend. The whole thing had always sounded odd to you, if maybe not as icky as you thought it was when you first had the concept whispered to you as a child. You didn't realize it was actually something you might experience someday, assuming it was a practice reserved to the especially perverted. Now that he was offering it, you found yourself biting your lip as you tried to imagine what it would be like.
“I'd like to pleasure you with my mouth,” he concluded, really spelling it out for you. “Would that be alright?”
You weren't sure what to think of that, and yet you were already nodding yes. This was your husband, after all— who else could you trust to do something like this? Most of all, you did it because you wanted to please him. Because he'd asked you for it.
He smiled a little when you agreed, and began to lean down between your legs. Those deep brown eyes seemed to sparkle more than ever when he looked up at you, but his gaze couldn't stay with yours for long before he had to give a closer look to your cunt. He carefully spread the lips with his fingers, humming at the sight. “I wonder if it's even possible for you to be as delicious as you look,” he spoke quietly, and a needy whine caught in your throat.
It was just a gentle kiss to your clit first… then another, with his lips parted. Then he started to ever-so-gently suckle at it, tongue softly petting it; he wasn't doing too much, physically, but you never could catch your breath while he was doing it.
You whined a bit when he broke away, looking down at him in search of an explanation but finding instead him looking back up at you with an indescribable look in his eye.
“How does that feel?” he asked, his voice rougher and darker than you'd ever heard it before, making you shiver gleefully.
“Wet,” you blurted out, making him smile a little, a small laugh on an exhale through his nose that made you feel a bit foolish in an unexpectedly pleasurable way. “A-and warm… please don't stop, Laszlo, it felt so nice…”
He got back to it, a little more intensely than before, and your eyes rolled back when he really started to lap at you with his tongue— harder and wider each time, making you writhe from the intensity of it.
You couldn't even describe the sound you made when he pushed his tongue inside you. He moaned against you in response to it, though, and thank God, he kept going.
He kept petting your thighs, even encouraging you when your legs clamped down around his head unintentionally; presumably that was his way of saying it wasn’t giving him any pain, which you were a bit concerned about, even if you couldn’t really stop yourself. Sometimes you had the strength to meet his gaze, but most of the time you felt like you’d melt if you looked back at him— the way he was staring up at you was just too fiery, too intense, too beautiful.
Just when you thought you were getting used to the pattern of his tongue’s movements on your clit, he gently pushed his two fingers back into your pulsing channel. You were all tingly and sore inside, but a long, deep moan fell from your mouth as your back arched.
“Beautiful,” he praised, the word muffled by what he was doing— which he got back to more urgently than ever, twisting and thrusting his fingers inside you carefully at first.
“J-just like that,” you pleaded. “Oh, Laszlo, I— I didn't know anything could… feel like this…”
You could feel the smallest smirk on his lips as he continued; even just being able to feel his smug smile there was such a lovely, erotic, totally novel concept to you.
When he really buried his face in your legs, you could feel the roughness of his beard against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs and buttocks, and god was it the most beautifully filthy feeling. It was really an excellent metaphor for the whole thing: the symbol of his maturity, the well-kempt facial hair itself a balance between his wildness and his meticulous self-control, rubbing raw your delicate and untouched skin in such an intimate place. If you weren’t too busy shaking and crying and seeing stars on this bed, you might have appreciated the beauty in those parallels, but clearly you weren’t capable of thinking about it to that level of depth.
The stream of helpless praises you'd been trying to hold back earlier? There was absolutely nothing stopping it from spilling forward now. “You're incredible,” you blurted out, your hand holding tighter to the sheets beneath you. “Laszlo— my husband— you… you must be the devil, o-or an angel or prophet— or something. You make me feel things, such incredible things, that I didn't even know—”
He opened his mouth wide around you, breaking the seal of his lips so he could speak against your skin. “I'm just a man,” he promised, “I'm just a husband becoming addicted to his new wife's pleasure, that's all, my dear.”
As he started to do it again so suddenly, you reacted suddenly as well: your hand found his hair and grabbed it, and your mind was too far gone to worry about it being too aggressive. Not that he gave any signs of annoyance— if anything it was the opposite, as he lapped at you harder in response.
This, of course made your hips jump up— until his hand slipped out of you, grabbing them and pulling them down, keeping you still as he continued. The simple show of dominance affected you greatly, another heavy pulse of pleasure hitting you suddenly.
“I-I'm close,” you whispered. “Laszlo, I'm so close— and it feels so different than before— I swear, nothing's ever felt so— fuck!”
He hummed encouragingly, and your whole body rocked in time with the growing pressure. His fingers sliding back inside you, seeming to curl even more than before, certainly added to the sensation.
Just as you were teetering on the edge, his teeth grazed impossibly-carefully over you, a sharp and raw sort of pleasure jolting your entire body. Of course, you couldn't fight against that, and the feeling inside you snapped as yet another flood of pleasure ripped through your body. Your ears were ringing but you still heard how loud you must have been, how totally wrecked and helpless your moans had become.
It wasn’t as… aggressive of a feeling as the one that had made you… you know… but it was probably the most powerful in its own way. The highest, the heaviest, the most whole. You couldn't hear him moaning against you through all that, but you could feel it: a deep and bassy vibration that only heightened the feeling even more. Your moans turned to cries and then sobs; it was too much, the feeling was spilling over inside you— you weren't sure how much longer you could take it all before you broke.
It seemed, however, that he broke first; he pulled away and sat up, leaving you both panting, sweaty messes.
“God, you're so beautiful,” he sighed, grabbing you by the neck to pull you up into a filthy, heated kiss. You surrendered instantly, grabbing into his shoulders with hands that were still pricked with pins and needles as your high dissipated slowly. “I can't wait anymore,” he mumbled against your lips, “I need to be inside you.”
“Please,” you gasped softly— you'd been waiting for this all night, at least. You'd never imagined yourself so eager, so desperate for it, though…
He made quick work untying his robe, leaning over you as he held tightly onto his cock and guided the swollen, leaking head between your lips. Yes, even with desire coursing through your veins, a touch of anxiety was still present. You just couldn’t imagine what this was going to be like, you could still hardly believe it was happening to you— and, though it was a bit crass to think, you were a bit surprised by the brief glance of his cock that you’d gotten. You wouldn’t really know what was big or small or normal or abnormal when it came to that… you had nothing to compare it to. What you did know was that it seemed much… thicker, than seemed appropriate to go inside you. Of course you knew that a young woman’s first experience could be painful, you’d heard that bleeding was normal (if not expected, but that seemed a bit barbaric and certainly not what a progressive man like Laszlo was after) — yet, you still weren’t properly scared. It was just the sort of anticipation that made you shiver and let out a long breath to compose yourself.
He groaned a little as he continued to rub against you, and you noticed the arm that held him up over you was shaking. You could only imagine how frustrating it must have been to be giving you all that attention and not getting any in return for so long, and you could only hope he might take a little of that frustration out on you…
“Please,” you said again, quieter, as you looked up at him. Thankfully, that was enough to make him press forward and slide into you all at once.
While his fingers had stretched you in such strange, sometimes overwhelming ways, his cock… it just fit. It filled you exactly the way you needed— not too wide or too deep… though you suspected it would've been had he not prepared you so incredibly thoroughly. And while his tongue has made you feel such unimaginable things, though his lips had effortlessly sucked ecstasy from your shaking body, having him inside you felt so simple and natural and easy.
He hissed in his breaths as he moved— slow at first, but each one just a bit faster than the last. Every movement stimulated all the places he'd already awoken inside you, and your legs moved on their own to latch around his hips while your head fell back with a satisfied sigh.
“My angel,” he groaned, staring down at you as each of his thrusts rocked you under him. “I knew I— fuck, darling— I knew I'd have trouble keeping myself together when I was finally inside you. Yet you're… you're even more perfect than I imagined.”
You smiled proudly, reaching up to hold his shoulders; he seemed encouraged by that, becoming just a bit rougher in his movements until your nails accidentally dug into his skin just a bit.
“I won't be able to last much longer,” he grunted, “but I-I can't stop. I can't even slow down, I never… I've never lost control like this before.”
A shiver ran up your whole body, even seeming to make you clench inside— and he moaned in return, a beautifully pitiful sound.
“I'm sorry,” he offered between panting breaths, and you barely mustered the energy to laugh.
“Beloved, what do you have to apologize for?” you teased through a grin. “Surely you're not worried that I will be left unsatisfied.”
“I would rather bring you to orgasm again,” he explained, “but I'm so desperate for you, I'm afraid I lack the patience for it.”
“I would rather pleasure my husband, for once,” you replied, “but you couldn't possibly feel what I felt, I don't think I'll ever be able to really return the favor—”
“It's no favor,” he insisted. “Your pleasure is what I desire. And a good wife gives her husband what he desires, no?”
You whimpered desperately, pathetically even. “I'll be good for you, Laszlo,” you promised weakly, “I want to be a good wife to you…”
“You're a very good wife, my dear,” he assured. “Look how much pleasure you've let me take from you, look how you've soaked our bed with your lovely nectar…”
You weren't sure which part of that aroused you the most… but our bed was a serious contender.
“And you taste absolutely divine,” he added, before kissing you again to let you taste it, too. It was a sloppy and needy kiss, not precise and careful like basically everything else he'd done to you so far, but you loved it. You loved any sign that he might be just as desperate as you.
Once again his speed and intensity picked up, until you could hear his skin hitting against yours loudly, and your back arched a bit at how perfectly dirty it felt. His cock hit a spot deep inside you, and you sucked in a sharp breath. “Laszlo,” you blurted out, and he groaned as he moved his kiss to your neck.
“Keep saying my name,” he demanded. “Tell me who your husband is— who makes you feel this way you've never felt before.”
“Laszlo,” you said again, “I'm yours. Anything you want from me, it's yours.”
“Yes,” he agreed with a heavy sigh.
“Your wife, always,” you continued, and it made your own heart swell along with encouraging him: he moved faster, rocked deeper into you, and breathed heavy against your ear as your back arched from the erotic perfection of the moment.
“My wife,” he repeated, making you whine and nod and bear down on him with your walls.
“Yes,” you gasped, “yes— yours, I’m yours—”
“I-I can't hold back anymore,” he moaned, “I don't… I don't even know if I can bring myself to pull out before—”
“Don't,” you begged. “I want it inside, Laszlo. I want all of you inside me.”
“Oh, darling, mein Schatz, I—” he choked, but he never finished his sentence. He just moaned louder and louder and fucked you faster and faster— until you were nearly screaming from how hard he hammered into you.
It stopped all at once; he pressed himself as deep inside you as he could, so deep you felt like you were struggling to breathe, and hid his face in the curve of your neck as he came inside you.
And for a long, beautiful moment, you just laid together; you were sort of halfway between awake and asleep, your whole body thrummed with emotions and sensations you never thought you could fit within yourself. Time passed, surely, but you wouldn’t have known the difference. His weight on top of you wasn’t too heavy, though it did keep you pressed into the mattress and sheets— not that you were going anywhere anyways.
You only really came back to reality when you felt small kisses trailing your neck; you hummed and squirmed a little beneath him, making you both groan as it stirred where you were connected. He must have been a bit sore, too, though you felt like you’d been through quite a lot more and had a better excuse.
He moved again, just barely, and you winced as you held onto his back. “Don’t go,” you whispered, afraid of the pain if he didn’t just stay still inside you.
“I have to, sometime,” he breathed in return.
“But—”
“I know, my love,” he cooed, “I’d stay inside you forever if I could. But I’ll hurt you more if I don’t give you time to rest.”
Resigning yourself with a sigh, you nodded a little and scrunched up your face as he pulled his hips back. It did sting, but it faded quickly once he was out— and the feeling was replaced with a warm, wet feeling that you realized must have been his seed leaking out of you. It made you feel a bit dirty, but wonderful, too.
He laid beside you with a deep breath, his hand coming up to your face and turning it so you would look back at him. You had to blink a few times to really see clearly, and even still, everything seemed a bit blurry around the edges. The whole world seemed a bit softer, really. “I love you, darling wife,” he told you simply, his voice soft but no longer a whisper, and he pet your cheek as he leaned in to kiss the bridge of your nose.
“I love you too, husband,” you cooed in reply. “You’re so wonderful— a-and you’re nothing like I imagined, sometimes.”
“Perhaps I should have been more careful,” he offered nervously.
“No— that was perfect,” you promised.
“I meant the very end, there,” he clarified, his hand running down over your body and resting on your stomach. “You might have wanted to wait longer… if you had a child so soon, you might wish we had more time just the two of us.”
Your heart skipped a beat as you realized what he meant. “Oh, that…” you mumbled, smiling a bit to yourself.
“I fully intended to have my finish elsewhere, to lower the chances— I didn’t think I would become so… impulsive,” he sighed. “I hoped to still control myself, but I’m afraid I wasn’t quite able to, once I was within you. But I couldn’t help it, with the way you feel…”
“It’s alright,” you laughed weakly, “it’s not as if I were acting rationally. I never… I didn’t think I could be so… so—”
A thousand words came to mind. Unladylike. Animalistic. Desperate. Insatiable.
“I didn’t think I’d ever act like that,” you said instead, voice getting a little softer as you felt a bit shy again.
“I knew you would,” he responded, making you look at him with wide eyes and warming cheeks.
“You— but I— I was always—!”
“Yes, you behaved very well each time I met you” he recalled with a proud smile, “always so sweet and well-mannered. But I knew you had so much need within you, so much hunger… a being of pure instinct just waiting to take over when the time was right.”
Your heart skipped a beat— you felt a bit… accused by that statement, yet you couldn’t really deny it. Even if you hadn’t known it before, it was clearly true now. “How… how could you have sensed that?” you wondered.
He raised an eyebrow as he looked at you again; you loved the way he looked in that moment. His expression was familiar, but the total lack of composure— flushed cheeks, sweat on his brow, messed hair— was totally new and quite pleasant. “If you didn’t have any desire to misbehave, my darling, you wouldn’t have been going out with me.”
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harvest moon (joel miller x reader)
Summary: Joel Miller can't keep his eyes off of you. And damn, that ass is nice.
Ratings/Warnings: Fluff, some cussing, ass staring. Mostly just Joel Miller being in love and Tommy Miller being a little shit. Age gap, but both reader and Joel are grown adults (like reader is 30s Joel is early 50s) Joel has some anxiety, but nothing too descriptive. Canon divergence. I hope that's everything!
Word count: 845
A/N: I was listening to Harvest Moon by Neil Young the other day and thought to myself, "Joel Miller Joel Miller Joel Miller Joel Miller Joel Miller." Yeah, you get the gist.
This was in my drafts from a few weeks ago and so I thought I would finish it. I hope you like it! Just something short and sweet. :) Imagine this gif but as Joel Miller and his beautiful greying hair....
“Darlin’, you know I don’t wanna do this either, but we gotta,” Joel says, a slightly annoyed gruff in his voice. It’s not like he’s annoyed with you, but he’s getting tired of pleading to get this show on the road. He hears you call back something from upstairs and he rolls his eyes, shuffling his way to the bathroom in which you’re currently occupying.
“Joel,” You start when he enters through the door. “I don’t mind going, and you know that. What I mind is you not tellin’ me till twenty minutes ago!” You say with a scowl. Your eyes lock through the mirror and he softens.
“”M sorry, sweet girl. Tommy didn’t tell me till we were leaving work today. I had about as much of a heads up as you did,” He says. You can tell he’s sorry, so with a soft huff you turn to face him.
“Well, he can’t be mad if we’re a few minutes late then. I’ll be done shortly, honey. Please stop stressing,” You say, giving him a soft kiss to his cheek. And just like that, everything was okay again. He needed you to remind him that everything is okay. I mean, the world is still ending, but everything is okay. Ellie and Tommy are safe. You are safe. He can’t ask for much more than that. He’s been having some anxiety issues lately, but you’ve been his saving grace. You make everything okay. With a nod, he leaves you in the bathroom alone. Sure enough, you emerge from the bathroom just a few minutes later ready to go. You grab your coats and make your way over to the bar.
Joel can’t keep his eyes off of you. All night he’s been staring you down from a seat at the bar, lightly sipping a beer. You’ve been dancing all evening with your friends..and Tommy. It was per his request for his birthday. “One dance, please. It’ll be so fun!” The younger brother pleads. You laugh and roll your eyes at him. He looks charming in his get up paired with a handsome cowboy hat on top of his head. He’s always been fond of you, but you always laugh it off and tell him to find someone his own age. He’d usually laugh and tell you to do the same, being that Joel is quite a few years older than you. Joel would usually mumble something and pout as you and Tommy continued to poke fun at Joel’s expense. You all know that Tommy’s crush isn’t serious, so you agree and follow your brother in law to the floor.
The song changes as the two of you find a spot, and a lively dance song starts. Joel watches the two of you from the bar. God, your ass looks so good in those jeans. They fit perfectly, sculpting your hips and figure so well that he can’t help but swoon over you. He watches as you and Tommy hold hands, swinging in circles like two teenagers. Tommy places the cowboy hat on your head and gives a loud, “YEEEEEEEEHAWWWWW,” across the bar. Joel laughs as you buckle over in a fit of giggles. Joel stands up, finishes his beer and slowly makes his way to you as the song comes to an end.
“Alright, give her back to me.” He says playfully, but you know part of him is serious. Tommy laughs and gives you a pat on your arm.
“Thanks, darlin’. If you get tired of my brother any time soon, you know where to find me.” He says and shuffles away laughing. Joel rolls his eyes and pulls you closer. The next song begins, the simple guitar strum taking him back to a simpler time. Harvest Moon by Neil Young plays overhead softly, and the two of you begin to sway along.
“That fuckin’ guy, I swear,” He says and you can’t help but laugh at him. He stares down at you, confused as to what you’re making such a fuss about. “What are you lookin’ at?” He asks.
“You are such a silly man, Joel Miller,” You say and smile at him. You grab the back of his neck to pull his face closer to yours. “There ain’t no man better than you. I want you. I am yours.” You say, and you take the cowboy hat from your head and place it on his. He chuckles and pulls you even closer, savoring the moment.
Because I’m still in love with you
I wanna see you dance again
Because I’m still in love with you
On this harvest moon
He leans down, cowboy hat slipping down his head, and gives you a slow kiss. The harmonica and guitar sing in the background. Everything feels perfect.
“My girl, I love you,” He says. He feels you smile against his lips, never taking yours away. “I love you, too.”
Because I’m still in love with you
I wanna see you dance again
Because I’m still in love with you
On this harvest moon
A/N: dividers by @saradika-graphics thanks so much!!
#joel miller#the last of us#pedro pascal#joel tlou#tlou show#pedro#joel#joel x reader#joel miller fic#tlou fanfiction#tlou fic#the last of us fanfic#the last of us fic#joel miller x reader#joel miller fluff#drabble#fluff#joel miller i love you#save me joel miller#joel miller x you
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But like instead of sugar daddy Price how about sugar baby Price.
Thinking about Sugar Baby!Price
Pairing: John Price x Male Reader
Cw: power dynamic, sugar daddy/ sugar baby dynamic, age gap,
Thinking about Sugar baby! Price who signed up to a sugar baby/ daddy website in an attempt to earn some money on the side but because of his age he only gets a handful of matches and those that he gets never lead to dates.
But one day, after going without a match for a good couple of weeks, he gets matched with someone.
At first Price is confused because in his preferences he clearly states that he would rather be matched with a woman but on his screen there’s a picture of you, a man, who looks to be much younger than he is. By looking further into your profile, he sees that you’re a successful businessman, who’s looking for a date to attend with you to events and he can also see you’ve got no gender preference.
So it couldn’t have been a mistake right?
But Price is still hesitant because he’s never been on a date with a man and he’s heard his fair share of horror stories of sugar daddies from the women that frequented the same site, but money is money and Price finds himself accepting the offer.
However as he drives over to the restaurant he can’t keep doubts from creeping into his head, wondering if there’s a slight chance that you’re expecting a woman on this date.
But all doubts disappear when he walks through the door only to be met with the sight of your smiling face as you go to pull out a chair for him.
So far you seem polite, charming even and you look really handsome. Price might have only dated women before but he can admit when a man looks good. However looks can be deceiving and behind that exterior there might be someone that’s expecting more of him, something more like sex.
Just hearing the word echoing in his head has his throat drying up as he fiddles with the napkin in his hand. “I’d like to make one thing clear, I’m perfectly okay with dates but anything past that-“
He’s abruptly cut off by you, a chore of no’s escaping your lips as you frantically wave your hands in the air.
“Oh no no no I don’t do that I don’t sleep with uh my clients”
Oh, okay. Good.
“I didn’t think-“ he shakes his head, looking down at the table, feeling his neck, ears and cheeks burn.
“Don’t get me wrong,sir-“
“John” the older man corrects, looking up at you beneath long black lashes and you feel heat creep up your own neck, ears and cheek.
“Don’t get me wrong John, you’re very attractive,” you say with a soft smile still displayed on your face, but the only thing he can focus on is your words.
Attractive .
Attractive ?
You found him attractive.
“But I’m just looking for a date to attend with me to different type of events,”
Price who’s still lost in the thought that you find him attractive only nods his head and the two of you proceed to order dinner.
The date goes exceptionally well. For whatever reason you seem more interested in hearing him talk about himself rather than talking about yourself.
Although it may sound wrong in someone’s ear, he can’t help but love how much attention you’re paying to him.
You even drive him home instead of asking your Chauffeur to do so and you don’t leave until he’s safe inside his house.
When he goes inside he almost feels like a teenager, face flushed hair mussed, hands jittery and you haven’t even done anything!
And when he gets a text asking for another date he happily agrees to it.
Date after date and you continue to stick to your words, never initiating anything that might make him uncomfortable but for whatever reason Price is unable to shake the feeling of disappointment that starts to grow inside of him.
The doubts that have made home in his mind start telling him that maybe you don’t even find him attractive.
Price isn’t stupid he knows he isn’t young anymore, that he isn’t the most desirable bachelor in the world but that doesn’t mean that it hurts any less knowing that you don’t find him attractive.
However things take a turn one day, when the two of you are trying out suits that he can wear for an event.
As he stands there in the changing room, looking at his reflection in the mirror, he can’t help but feel a surge of confidence running through his body.
For the first time in a while he feels attractive. You’d gone out of your way to get a tailored suit for him even though he’d vehemently denied it, fearing it’d be too expensive and that he had a perfectly fine suit somewhere buried inside of his closet.
But now that he’s looking at himself he can’t help but feel immensely thankful for your kind gesture because the suit hugs his curves so well, the rich black color compliments his skin tone beautifully, and there’s even a pop of blue in his pockets and buttons that match the color of his eyes.
Prior to this you even made sure he got a haircut and trimmed his mutton chops.
“I have to admit, I’ll miss these curls” you say while running a hand through his sandy brown hair, and once again he feels heat creep up his cheeks neck and ears “But Marisa knows what she’s doing”
And he couldn’t agree more, whilst looking at himself in the mirror, hair much shorter now and slicked back, with facial hair trimmed and showing off the sharpness of his features.
When he walks out to show you the outfit, he hears a small gasp escape your lips while your eyes trail down his body.
Once again he can feel heat creeping up on him but he also feels a surge of confidence- a sense of power for having affected you in this way.
You finally manage to pull your eyes away from him, awkwardly clearing your throat as you go to speak “you look good John, really good” you say the second part quieter.
He manages to respond with a smooth thank you, tone sounding like the one he only ever used to charm his late wife, even biting back a smirk while saying that.
On the night of the event the two of you almost seem to be glued to each other. You don’t do anything to overstep boundaries but he can see the way your gaze is trained on him, the way you keep almost a possessive hand on his hip and the compliments that just keep rolling off your tongue while chatting with him.
When the night nears to an end and you’re walking him to his door he can’t help but get lost in his thoughts, in the feeling of you arm slung over his shoulder the smell of your cologne and the compliments that never seem to stop rolling off your tongue.
It all ends with him uttering the words “would you like to come in?” you freeze in your step and fall silent for a moment before finding your words again “Are you sure we don’t have to-
“I want to” he croaks out, throat suddenly feeling dry “I really really want to”
#there will be more parts Mwah#I didn’t want to jam it all into one#you have found my weekness anonie bc I love this trope#call of duty#john price#john price x reader#john price x male reader#captain john price#captain john price x male reader#captain john price x reader#top male reader#dom male reader#sub male character#bottom male character#adding this tag bc eventually it’ll get there
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I'm so thankful for you sharing the importance of protecting minors from sexual content. My parents and I didn't have much knowledge back then and I was exposed to this kind of stuff too early. I developed bad habits. I somehow deceived my family into trusting me way too much and, when I saw I had lost control and I asked for help, I saw my family was also hurt and they spent a lot on therapy and my anxiety medication. I have forgiven them for not knowing back them. But I still haven't forgiven myself for getting them through all that stuff. It's important to understand how much we need to protect minors from sexual content. Family members and artists, please pay attention to the content young audience is exposed to.
Of course! I can relate a lot to this. My parents were really good at monitoring what I was doing online for a while but they started trusting me more and I unfortunately started seeing a lot of stuff I shouldn't have but would keep it secret. Gonna talk about my experience a lil bit under the cut just bc I've been reflecting on it a lot recently (tw for grooming)
I gained a following of around 25K on deviantart by the time I was around 15/16. It was in the worst fandom too (mlp). I'd have a lot of much older men talking to me, drawing/writing nsfw of my characters who were underaged (they'd draw nsfw of myself and my sonas as well). It was so normalized for me and I didn't see anything wrong with it at the time.
I'd shipped Spike and Rarity at the time (very much do not anymore) and adult men would use that ship as a basis for trying to talk to me or get in a relationship. "We're just like Sparity! You're young but you're very mature for your age, so it's fine." I remember one guy trying REALLY hard to try and get me to move in with him. I was pretty creeped out then, but like holy shit that's SUPER creepy and I'm fortunate that he didn't keep trying after I gave him a hard "no".
It bled into my real life a bit when I met a 22 y/o man who asked me out when I was just 16 just turning 17. Luckily the relationship was NOT long lasting (I think he realized that I'm a very boring person LMAO) but I think about how I thought that that was a perfectly normal. I'd date go on to date people who were probably too old for me.
Also around when I was 16/17, people started shipping me with another artist in the fandom who was several years older than I was (side note: nothing wrong with an age gap! but it's very not okay when there's "waiting" for someone to be of legal age involved). I did end up dating said artist after I turned 18 and it was fine, I wasn't hurt or anything but I did find weird that we were shipped when I was still a teenager looking back (there was also nsfw drawn of us together before/when we were dating)
I just had such a warped sense of reality for a long because of this shit. I'm glad there's more conversations about this stuff and it's more known that adults should have little to no personal interaction with kids on the internet and vice versa. There's way too many stories of kids getting taken advantage of in fandom spaces. I think I got off fairly lucky all things considered. But bottom line YES kids need to be protected online and their exposure to sexual content/adult spaces should be limited or monitored. It's also really tough though because not all kids have adults in their real life that they can trust or go to to ask questions about sex so they seek solace in adults online and it's just a constant cycle.
I'm honestly unsure of what to do about that and I don't have all the answers but I ultimately just don't want kids online to end up in similar positions I was in when I was younger. I just do my best
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DIE FOR YOU 𑁍 haitani rindou
nsfw (smut) mdni
sweet / die for you / west coast / heart to heart
If one were to ask Haitani Rindou what matters to him the most in life, his answer would be the same every single time.
"My girl," he'll say.
It's straightforward, no sugarcoating, and he always says it nonchalantly, too. For someone at his age to answer anything but career or money always shocks people to the core -- but Rindou thinks it's fine. It's okay. It doesn't matter what they say or wonder. Because in the end when he comes back home to you and you greet his tired figure with warm arms and a pretty smile he suddenly doesn't feel like dying anymore -- he doesn't think it's wrong or shameful for you to be so important to him; for you to mean so much to him.
And Rindou will choose you every single time despite everything because he loves you an awful lot and he knows there is nothing in the world that can weigh and matter more to him than you.
The evening sun hangs low on the horizon and paints the skies a pretty apricot. Hot summer air turns into wind as it breezes through the Earth and into your opened window -- the furin you bought from Kyoto a while ago hangs sturdy on the wooden frame and it chimes softly with the sheer curtain you adore so much swaying together as the wind blows past. Its warmth makes you sweat and your skin is sticky and moist while you pant and moan in Rindou's ear; soft, pretty whines and lewd whimpers -- the signs of your Eden all because of him and for his ears only. It is only ever Rindou who gets to listen and savour it in his head while he loves your body to.
He flushes, the warm fuzzy feeling in his chest getting a little too overwhelming for a man like him to handle and he fucks you a bit harder at that -- a man like him who is brash and rough around the edges and he needs you there to smooth it all out. He wants you with him to ground his fleeting mind; when it gets so bad he starts hyperventilating and you're always there to hold him as you whisper lovely little words in his ear -- words he never got to hear when he was a child, words he never got to say as a teenager, words he thought he'd never experience when he is older.
Rindou's heart rattles against his chest, pride high into the heavens when you say his name again and again and he hugs you anymore closer to his body. He thinks you are everything that is made out of love. He even believes that you are love itself.
The collar of the tight tank top you're wearing is stretched and pulled beneath your breasts and Rindou sucks a nipple into his mouth. You gasp at the sensation of his tongue swirling around your hardened bud and it makes you clench tighter around his dick.
"Fuck," you curse when the tip of his cock kisses at your walls so perfectly and your pretty tits bounce up at his deep, hard thrusts. Your mouth is ajar and your sighs of pleasure escapes in the form of puffed breaths when he releases your bud with a lewd pop. "Fuck." You say it again and he moves to bite and suck on your bottom lip.
Rindou's hands finds themselves on top of your limp ones and he intertwines your fingers together. All twenty -- his that are bigger and thicker and longer than yours -- locked and gripped tight against one another. He feels the cool of the metal band on your finger against his skin and he smiles a little at it.
Rindou slows down his pace and you're quick to whine at the sudden change of speed, "baby . . ." but it hangs mid-air when he chooses to rub his pelvis up and down against your puffy clit instead. You moan loudly, eyes rolling to the back of your skull -- you actually think you saw some really bright stars back there and he buries his head into your neck, sucking and biting on the skin until it turns into a pretty shade of purple.
Rindou will never give you a moment where you feel the need to make him keep going. He knows you and your body far too well at this point to tease you; he just loves spoiling you so much. And so he makes love to you with fever and moves his hips just the way you like it. Your face scrunches up at the immense pleasure on your abdomen and your walls clamp around his dick hard.
You're cumming soon.
"Tell me . . ." Rindou hisses when you arch your back just right and he hits even deeper now. His pretty tip grazes at your sensitive spot and you mewl so sweetly into his ear he swears his balls are tightening at the sound.
He wants nothing more for you to let everything go; to feel your sweet, thick nectar coat around his veiny length as he fucks it back into your warm pussy when it leaks out.
"W-What?" You peer up at him through clouded, lustful eyes and Rindou licks at your lips before kissing them with fire in his heart -- you're the sole reason it ever lights up and you're also the one who is there to soothe it away when the flame gets too big and hot and it starts burning down the things around him.
Rindou feels his own high coming and proceeds to pull up your pliant arms and wrap them around his neck. He needs all of you. He wants all of you. He wants to become one with you. And you immediately latch on to him and whimper when you feel his warmth radiate against your body, chest to chest and face to face. It is summer and the hottest month of the season but you do not care -- Rindou's warmth is nothing like the stinging burn from the Sun and the Earth when it meets your skin. It is everything that is made out of love and it's comfortable and lovely and you can always feel it deep in your veins.
"Tell me you want the world," Rindou pants against your chin, pupils all blown out from the high amounts of chemical running through his brain and you bite down on your lip to hold in your gasps. He fucks you so well you think you might be losing it any second now.
But he simply pushes a thumb down on your bottom lip, releasing it from the bite of your teeth to keep it open for him and your noises starts echoing in the bedroom. It is loud and pretty and he wants nothing more than to grab his phone off the nightstand and put it on voice recording -- maybe he'll turn it into his new producer tag, but at the same time he doesn't want other people hearing you like this because he is selfish and he wants you all to himself.
Rindou's pace is fast but it is also gentle and soft when he thrusts his dick in and his tip doesn't stop abusing your spot. You moan and moan and moan.
Anytime now.
"Tell me you want the world. Anything. Everything. And I'll give it to you. Don't even gotta ask, baby. Jus' tell me." Rindou begs through broken stutters. He babbles it straight into your mouth. He speaks it to your flaming heart, to your ardent soul. You swallow his love and everything he has to give you. Your tongues meet and he kisses your lips sweet after.
You roll your eyes back, seeing nothing but clean white and you bury your head back deeper into the soft beneath. It is silk and fluffy and everything that is comfort. He's made sure to fluff it up right before you plopped down on it -- he doesn't want your neck to ache painfully after.
And you are so lovely in his eyes when your swollen lips part and his name -- the two syllables of a flower which symbolises affection and everlasting love that his mother named him after -- escapes your mouth in a soft voice.
You cum hard as you say it, head tilted back and your neck exposes his masterpiece. His lips, the brush and his love, the artist.
"Rindou . . . Jus' want you, baby."
Te deseo, cariño, boy, it's you I desire.
Fat tears escape and rolls down to the pillow as you lay all open for him to admire.
"Want nothin' but you."
Your love, your love, your love.
Your thighs tremble as your juices spray all over his abdomen and Rindou moans loudly into your mouth as he continues slapping his thick cock into your warm pussy.
He melts into you.
"I'm all yours, baby."
You become one together.
". . . All yours."
And he paints your gummy walls white.
Wet, squelching noises sounds through your tiny bedroom and he doesn't stop moving despite the intense overstimulation of your sex. You break into many tears and sob loudly as he shoves the mixture of your nectar and his pollen back into your pretty, gooey pussy with deep and long thrusts and he cups your face all the while. He swipes a calloused thumb across your wet, rosy cheek and you sigh when you can finally think straight again.
"Love you so much . . ." He admires your face and Rindou keeps his dick snug in your pussy. He twitches and you spasm -- it's like they're talking to each other as well.
"Love you the most, pretty girl." He kisses your forehead sweetly and you sniffle while trying to catch your breath.
"Fuck, I'll die for you."
You smile through tears, the apple of your cheeks rising with your happiness and his mouth moves up to bite a little on it.
Rindou would actually die for you and you know that. He's said it to you many times, but he never likes it when you say you'd do the same for him too. "No, you can't do that." "If you can do that then I can too."
"I'll die for you, baby."
And he kisses your salty tears away. He wipes the sweat off your forehead. He kisses on your fluttery eyelids softly.
Two of you at 25, bad with words yet harbouring so much love and affection for each other that you don't know what to do with so you spend it on each other's bodies at every given chance. And the thing is, it never runs out -- your love for him is infinite and his love for you is boundless. And you'll keep on telling each other again and again until it stops and there is no more love to spend on each other anymore.
But you figure it is impossible. You don't think you will ever stop loving him in this lifetime or the next. There can only be Rindou and your love for Rindou and there can only be you and his love for you in both your worlds.
Soft, gentle kisses are scattered all over your bodies as you lay in bed together that evening, fixing each other up and whispering eternal promises in each other's ear. You hold him tight as you both regain your senses and he puffs a warm breath onto your cheek. It smells of sweet strawberry from the bowl he had earlier and you grin and press your cheek to his, relishing in your love and his love and everything that the two of you are and have created in this tranquility.
"I'll marry you." He murmurs. "My pretty girl." He praises. "I love you." He confesses. You blush at all three and turn to bury your head in the crook of his neck. You inhale his scent and although he is so sticky and sweaty you still love him so much.
While he is slowly dozing off at the comfortable feeling of you rubbing and massaging at his sore back, a scene from a few days ago plays in his head.
Rindou ran into an old friend -- Hanagaki Takemichi -- the other day at the store and the two men shared a drink in an izakaya later on. He hasn't seen the blonde boy for a very long time and realise he has changed a lot now -- no longer the weak and crybaby he was back then. And despite being a few years younger than Rindou, he is already the father of a 7 month-old baby who is sitting on his lap and munching on a piece of mango seed her father picked from a Tupperware.
"She's teething now, excuse the mess." Takemichi grins, holding the fruit to her mouth as she chews on it messily and Rindou smiles softly at the sight. He shakes his head, telling him he doesn't mind -- "let babies be babies" -- while observing her little features. "Looks a lot like her mother." He nods at her tiny figure and Takemichi laughs loudly. "Yeah, right? Hina is so happy about that."
Rindou bring his glass up to his mouth with a lopsided smile and Takemichi suddenly remembers when he looks at the older man's fingers.
It's not there.
"How old are you, Rindou-kun?" He asks curiously and the said man downs his drink in one go. "25." Rindou hisses at the strong taste and licks off the excess on his lips.
"That's 3 more years, then."
Rindou is confused now. He raises a brow while picking up a steaming hot dumpling and shoves it into his mouth.
"3 more years? To what?" He asks while chewing on his food and Takemichi's eyes turn into thin crescents.
"Your wedding."
Rindou is aware that Hanagaki Takemichi is no ordinary man. He's someone who's saved countless of lives with his ability and has never once backed down from his goal; be it by fear or all of the horrors he's witnessed in all the different timelines, Takemichi has never once let himself be swayed and intimidated by it. He is a determined man and a hero. He is a saviour. And after finding out about it during their very last Toman meeting many years ago, Rindou only harbours nothing but pure respect for the man sitting before him.
"I've seen her, you know," Takemichi sighs with a wide smile while refilling his and Rindou's cup with saké. "Your girlfriend." He looks into Rindou's eyes and chuckles a little at his puzzled expression. Little Hina yelps in his lap and her father is quick to hush her down with soft pats to her head.
Rindou's heart thumps at the mention of you.
"What about her?"
"I've been to so many different timelines, yeah? And I see you in every single one. You're either a civilian, a criminal or a rich man in all. And you know that, I've told you before last time. But what I never told you is that . . . I've also seen her too, heh. Even in the Bonten timeline."
Rindou's flushes at that. He doesn't like it when someone mentions the Bonten timeline because in it contains the very version of himself that he never wants to become. He can't stomach the thought of hurting someone to the point of no return. Sure, he's beaten many people up when he was younger and have done some illegal things. But murder? Drug trafficking? Prostitution? And everything else that is illegal in the book? He doesn't think he is capable of doing them. So with him being in Japan's most feared criminal organisation? And you're there as well? What does that even mean? And his wedding in 3 years? What?
Takemichi's eyes flickers again at Rindou's very empty fingers. He burns holes into them and Rindou shyly retracts his hands away from the wooden table and rests them on his lap. He starts picking the skin around his thumb as he looks at Takemichi who is busy pondering his thoughts.
"You have a silver ring that has the design of bellflowers engraved on it, don't you? Your mother gave it to you when you were young."
Rindou's eyes widened at his abrupt yet very true question and he sits up straight, knee banging the other vacant chair at their table and he apologises to the startled lady beside.
"How'd you know?" He asks with no hesitation, albeit a little curt and Takemichi ignores it.
"Did you give it to her?" He nods hesitantly, eyes not looking away from the man's. He needs to know how he knows; he doesn't recall telling anyone about it. Only you, Ran and his parents knows about the ring.
Rindou slipped it on to your finger one night in bed some time ago when you both got into a fight. It was his way of apologising -- the ring that he treasures so, so much and he thinks it is only fitting that he gives it to the person he loves the most (though she is upset with him). You are his life and death and everything in between and he tells you just that when you cry and say it hurt when he yelled at you. He says he is so sorry and kisses you so sweetly after that you don't even remember the point of your argument anymore.
Takemichi laughs.
"That ring . . . It's on her finger every time I go into the future or back to the past. Even in the Bonten one. I saw it when she pointed a gun at my head. Good God. She's with you in every single timeline, Rindou-kun."
All the worries in Rindou's brain vanishes in an instant. Whatever doubt or confusion he had earlier floating around? They are all gone with the wind. He grins and giddily swirls the drink in his glass, giggling like a fool while Takemichi rocks his bubbly daughter on his lap.
"I was invited to your wedding once and I saw the two of you together." The blonde recalls seeing your arm hooped around Rindou's as he walks with you down the aisle. Petals are scattered all over you two and you were smiling so brightly. He tells Rindou all about it and the older man listens intently with love in his eyes. "You get married at 28 in every timeline. Did you make any promises with her about 28?"
Rindou remembers and suddenly it all makes sense now. He nods and hides his blushy face in his arm. "My pretty girl once told me 28 feels like a good age to do many things. Dunno, she's weird like that." He laughs and his phone vibrates next to his hand. The screen lights up and it's a text message from someone irrelevant but his eyes focuses on the wallpaper of you munching on a mouthful of rice. You look like a squirrel in it and Rindou finds himself falling in love all over again. (He does that every day. No big deal.)
"Waaah," Takemichi exclaims with a fond smile. "Not a single timeline where the two of you don't end up together, huh?"
He simply smiles at Takemichi's words.
And your voice is quiet when you nose at his cheek in bed.
"This is so dumb but like, you know how Spiderman has like, the multiverse and there's always a same thing that happens every time in every universe and it is your fate, right? Is it a canon event? I dunno what's it called." You're not an avid watcher of Spiderman but you know Rindou is. And there's something really important that you really want him to know right now. But you don't know how to put it into a normal sentence and a normal example. You're bad with words. You hope he understands you.
"Yeah." He murmurs sleepily into your neck.
"Well, can I call us a canon event, then? If the multiverse is real, I'm sure we're together in every single one . . . I really hope it is that way, Rin. I dunno what I'd be without you." You kiss his cheek. You feel vulnerable and silly and hot tears spring to your waterline.
I hope you got my message.
↻ loading . . .
Yeah, kinda stupid, but I got it.
He smirks and wraps his arms tighter around your frame, trying to tell you that it's okay, because he wouldn't know what he'd be without you either. And he guess he'll indulge you for a bit.
"We already are, baby."
drops this n runs off to study for my test tomorrow
'tell me you want the world and i'll give it to you' x 'i only want nothing but you'
i've always wanted to use the canon event thing since the day i watched across the spiderverse in the cinema but never knew how to write it ... i hope it makes sense???? idk. maybe it made more sense in my mind cus when i wrote it out it felt SO STUPID RWARHWBSVRWFAAFA but its kinda cute so.......
꒰ᐢ. ̫ .ᐢ꒱ reblogs r appreciated! thank you for reading <3
#解#rindou x reader#rindou haitani x reader#haitani rindou x reader#haitani rindou#rindou haitani#rindou smut#tokyo revengers x reader#tokrev x reader#tr x reader#tokyo revengers smut#tokyo revengers#tokrev#tr#haitani brothers
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stars, moons, & other celestial bodies | j.jh
pairing | jaehyun x female!reader
synopsis | With your fizzy drinks and vinyls in tow, you’re determined to make the most of your summer before the start of your first year at university. Everything’s seemingly perfect; humid afternoons with your closest friends, late-night mixers at your local alumnis' estates, and sleeping in to ungodly hours. What you didn’t predict, however, was your brother making the early trip home to surprise you with a certain someone — namely, his best friend since childhood — following closely behind. His unexpected appearance throws you off, and suddenly, your summer is filled to the brim with his presence. You’re finally able to taste the idea of mature love, but is it really all that it’s made out to be?
content | brother!taeyong, retro-themed au, angst, fluff, coming of age, language warning, suggestive, mentions and consumption of alcohol/drugs
wc | 26.7k
song | delicate — taylor swift
a/n | for @hyuckmov and @rrxnjun, who kept me sane while writing this monster :D
...
The first week of summer before your freshman year of university is defined by sticky ‘n sweet cherry cola, rides around the abandoned carousel with your friends, and “borrowing” quarters out of your brother’s Cadillac to insert into the jukebox of the local diner; break has been this way since as long as you could remember. It's a familiar itinerary, one that plays back routinely every school break.
You’ve grown up without even realizing, your teenage days spent juggling academic work and getting into stupid situations with Mark and Chaewon trickling down to a close. This conclusion really hit you during an epiphany on a sweltering night after high school graduation.
It occurred in the midst of humid sepia air, the three of you still in your graduation caps and gowns as your bodies lay splayed across the asphalt leading down to your street. With the absence of cars coming down the wide road, it was perfectly rational to lay side by side in the middle of the cul-de-sac. The ground was simply the best place to ponder your thoughts and get lost in swirling memories now that university lay too close on the horizon; the sheer size of the sky seemed to mock your trio as you watched the clouds roll on by in their mismatched shapes and harrowing wisps.
A cigar — one comically too big for his face — hung between Mark’s fingers as he pushed his body to flop over your arm, the thing no doubt “borrowed” from the bottom of his father’s office drawer.
“Thank the Lord I’ll never have to see you bitches again,” he had sighed in pretend relief, blowing a tunnel of smoke into the side of your face as you pushed his warm skin off of yours. Chaewon snorted from beside you.
“Please, as if you’ll last a day without us at uni,” she retorted, rolling over onto her stomach and pulling a face at Mark’s teasing words. “I can’t even count the amount of times I’ve saved your life over this past month alone.”
“Yeah?” Mark grinned, supporting his upper body with his forearms as he turned to look at her over your relaxed figure. “Enlighten me.” She subsequently raised her eyebrows at him.
“Might I remind you of the time you got stuck at the drive-through cinema at 2am because you had locked yourself out of your car? And guess whose asses had to haul yours back home two hours away,” Chaewon pointed an accusing finger at Mark, her tone joking as she glared at said boy. He opened his mouth to say something but she held up a finger to her mouth in a shushing motion, stopping him. “And. Let’s not forget last week,” Mark furrowed his eyebrows, as if trying to recall which out of all the dumb decisions he had made was about to be relived, “when Kang Yujin pushed up on you during that one house party, you got a hard on from just that, and we had to cover for you-”
Mark shot up abruptly, leaning over you to slap a hand over Chaewon’s mouth before rushing to defend himself.
“But she was so hot, Chae, you wouldn’t understand,” he whined at her, frowning at you to do something and sympathize with him. It was expected by now, the regular petty and half-assed arguments making your friendship that much stronger.
As they continued bickering back and forth, you couldn’t help but let your mind drift away back into the clouds, the setting sun soaking them with a blazing, burnt umber. You would be going to college soon, and that meant no Mark, no Chaewon, and no parents to keep you sane. It was strange to imagine not spending every waking moment with your two best friends, and even stranger to think that going to different schools would mean no more daily drama fill-ins and midnight convenience store runs.
But after all, you had done it once, and you hoped you could do it again.
When your older brother Taeyong left for university a few years ago, it had practically shattered you. Sure, you found him incredibly annoying at times (still do) and had a constant vendetta against the man, but when the moment came to hug him goodbye, you just couldn’t bring yourself to let go. He had shown you the ins and outs of adolescence and given you the attention you craved when your parents couldn’t. He taught you how to take care of yourself, how to look in the mirror and recognize your worth, how to know your own limits, and how to realize that high school boys weren’t shit. He was always the first to get to the hospital when you had gotten hurt at school, and most important of all, he was with you throughout the highs and lows growing up.
If Taeyong leaving home had taught you anything, it was that time moves too fast — and it’ll only move faster as you get older. You know that your life is about to enter Round 2, and this time without anyone to hold your hand as you enter an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar people.
But it’s not over just yet.
Your best friends would never let that happen, and you recognize this now as your golden trio sits in your town’s local record shop, with ceiling fans whirring above you as the cool storefront protects you from the blazing summer heat.
It’s after-hours but the sun still burns bright into the late afternoon. You recline in the cashier chair as Chaewon flips the 'open' sign closed and makes her way back to you and Mark, the latter sitting against the wall with a variety of bottles surrounding him on the checkered floor.
He’s in an odd position, and you just know his mother would flip if she saw him with this much alcohol on a wednesday afternoon (at least it’s not a Sunday after mass, but she definitely doesn’t need to know that he’s been there, done that already). Mark tests out new concoctions every week, using the record store as his work space; the owner’s never in town and barely any customers come in to buy records these days, so there’s no one to stop him. Chaewon raises her eyebrows as she eyes the newest addition to his special menu.
“I’m not even gonna ask,” you say as he swirls the amber liquid around in a clean whisky bottle. Mark whistles at his creation, impressed, before holding it up to you and shaking it tauntingly. It smells slightly floral, the sharp flavors of absinthe and cognac making your nose scrunch.
“You’re just mad that your mixes don’t hit as hard as mine, baby.” With another swirl, he lifts the drink up to his mouth to taste. “And because you so nicely asked,” Mark smirks at you, “it’s Peychaud’s Bitters, cognac, syrup, and anise, and I give you my permission to borrow the recipe to impress your future uni friends. You’re welcome.” You shove Mark’s shoulder with your palm as he laughs at your baffled expression, body shaking with amusement while he sips away at his newest pride.
It’s only when Chaewon reaches over to steal the bottle away from him that your phone starts ringing, startling all three of you as the name of your older brother flashes across the screen. Mark looks at you inquisitively, but you just shrug in response and press the receive button.
“Tae?” you inquire, surprised at the sudden call. “Everything okay?”
He hums at the end of the line.
“More than okay. Guess whose plans just changed and is actually coming home today for break,” he reveals right away, and you know he’s smiling by the way his tone of voice is lilted in true Taeyong fashion.
“No fucking way,” you breathe out, eyes widening. Taeyong’s back? “Today, right now? For the entire summer? You’re actually lying- wait wait I’m coming home right now. Wait. Wait for me.”
“‘Wait wait wait,’ I’m not going anywhere sis,” he grins as he mocks you, noises of shuffling sounding out over your phone speaker. “Mom’s gonna pick me up from the airport in 30, I think. See you then?”
“Lee Taeyong! How could you not tell me,” you frown into the receiver, “I need at least three business days to prepare before seeing your face.”
“Oh, shut up would you. I have literal voicemail receipts of you crying about how much you miss me,” Taeyong retorts, topping your sarcasm.
You sigh, rubbing your temple when you realize that Taeyong’s never gonna let your sad-drunk voicemails go. “Fine, but you better spend every single day with me.”
Taeyong protests jokingly before giving in, promising you that he’ll make up for the time you’ve missed together. With a little, love you, and more of his usual unsolicited comments, the two of you say your quick goodbyes and you turn back to your waiting friends.
“Damn, Taeyong’s really back?” Mark looks at you in awe, his eyes shining with admiration. “He never stays for long, that’s crazy. You gotta let me come over at least once,” he pleads, hands grabbing yours. You know that your best friend looks up to your brother a ton, so you nod at him. “Sick, imma finally be able to talk music with him.”
“Wait, if Taeyong’s coming home for the entire summer,” Chaewon pauses, a knowing smile growing on her face as you groan, knowing exactly what she’s about to say next, “that means a certain Jeong Jaehyun will probably be following him back as well. And likely other kids in their year too from SNU… holy shit, the parties are gonna be literally insane this summer.” She throws her head back in elation as the realization strikes the three of you at once.
“You’re so right,” Mark covers his mouth to hide the smug grin taking over his face. He makes a heart with his hands as he observes you. “I can’t believe that I forgot Miss Y/N over here had the biggest crush on Jaehyun in high school.” You hit him on the chest in response as he absolutely loses it over your misfortune.
“Lovergirl,” he sing-songs, adding fuel to the fire while you shove your face into your palms. Your cheeks warm on their own when your mind flash-backs to your second year of high school, your insufferable crush on your brother’s best friend surfacing memories that you had buried after they both had graduated two years ago.
“I’m leaving,” you mumble into your hands, “all you two do is make me suffer.”
Chaewon grins at you before pulling your figure into a tight hug, tugging Mark in too by his shirt to join your little group.
“It’s out of love,” she giggles before kissing your cheek with an exaggerated muah. Turning slowly towards Mark, he lets out a, “nope nope nope,” before scrambling away from Chaewon’s outstretched arms.
Smiling at their antics, you collect your few belongings and tuck some new records under your arm before heading out of the shop. Saluting your friends goodbye and opening the front door, you cringe at the wave of heat that seeps into the cool space.
“Say hi to Taeyong for me, Y/N! We’ll lock up for today,” Chaewon calls out from behind the counter, sending you an air kiss when you step out into your town’s center square.
The streets buzz with life as you make the quick walk back to your house. With a brilliant sunset soaking the streets in tangerine tones and a line of quaint shops’ wind chimes fluttering beside you, you can’t bring yourself to care about the heat. The alleys you stroll down are comfy, lined with the latest pastel DeLoreans and colorful paper garlands tied along their telephone lines. It’s a complete memory lane, and your comfy suburb — filled with traditional gaewa roofs and terracotta neutrals, clay-red stained roads and gated hanoks — hold a familiarity that no other could replace. It’s the more cramped side of town, and you might envy Taeyong’s thrilling city life that you see through his social media, but nothing will ever beat home.
Your lace camisole sticks to your skin with fervor as you finally get to your own address, letting out a sigh of relief when cool shade encompasses you in the juniper-tinted light of the mudroom. Setting your brand-new records onto the kitchen floor, their faded titles peeking over thin paper sheaths, you make yourself comfortable on the floor as you hum to yourself. The house is quiet.
You put one of the new records into your player before your gaze drifts over to a stack of pictures on the tabletop, filtered evenly between stray letters and tacky postcards that your older brother has always had a knack for.
In addition to texting and calling home every month, Taeyong made it a habit a few years ago to send you the little magazine cut-outs and mini posters that he sees on his escapades, trinkets that remind him of you. Your little kitchen-counter-collection has thinned out in the past months as your brother got increasingly busier with school and his modeling jobs, barely coming home for a few days before rushing back for castings and elite functions. Nonetheless, a little orange package addressed to you would appear at your doorstep with each change of the seasons, tinged with your brother’s cologne and topped with his messy handwriting.
Just as you place the needle on a shiny black record with Missy Elliot’s face plastered across its front, you hear the front door creak open before noises of rolling luggage and playful shouting fill the house's interior.
“Mom, I’m not ten anymore,” you hear Taeyong whine in the higher-pitched voice he reserves solely for family, the telltale sign of his embarrassment, “I can carry my backpack myself. Promise.”
You can imagine the scene before you even see it: your brother looking away to the window as he tries to fight the smile creeping on his face, your mother on her tip-toes as she musses with her son’s hair even though he’s a head taller, and of course, your father leaning against the door with a content grin as his watches his wife’s face light up with happiness that the family is together again.
When you hear their footsteps near your seated figure on the kitchen floor, you feel your brother’s presence before you even see him.
Taeyong stops a few paces away from you, dropping his bag carelessly on the ground before standing with his arms outstretched and eyebrows raised. With his messy hair and airport clothes still hanging off his shoulders, your brother looks like a favorite uncle at holiday dinners when he hasn’t seen his favorite niece and nephew all year.
“Aren’t you gonna come say hi to your best friend before you abandon me for your vinyls again,” he teases before crossing the threshold in three steps and embracing you fully. “It’s been a while, hmm rockstar?”
You hum at the familiar term of endearment, sinking into his figure as your brother rocks you back and forth. You look up at him, his face looking more mature and sharp than when you saw him last.
“You gotta catch me up on that crazy life of yours, yeah? We have all summer.”
Nodding contently, you follow your brother and parents into the dining room for dinner before settling back into the feeling of having four people at home again. Just like the old days, before Taeyong left, where your worries were limited and you allowed yourself to be childish.
��
If anything makes you glad you’re alive, it’s being able to wake up at 2pm in the afternoon on a Thursday and feeling you just gained ten years. It’s truly a blessing, and if you were a bit more religious, you’d be thanking God right now for no school and black-out curtains.
Quickly getting ready, you give one last glance at yourself in the mirror before rushing downstairs to see if anyone’s home still. To your surprise, you catch Taeyong right as he’s opening the door to the basement.
“So she’s alive,” he calls out with an approving nod, surprised that you actually managed to wake up before the sun sets once again. You roll your eyes as you pull cereal in front of you on the kitchen table. The two of you are back to your old ways in a matter of hours, making fun of each other at every chance you get.
“It’s not my fault you don’t know how to enjoy life, Tae,” you shrug, grabbing leftovers from the fridge. He simply tsks at you before walking over to affectionately ruffle your hair, drawing a complaint from you about messing it up.
“Anyway, some of my old friends are coming over today to catch up. We’re probably gonna be downstairs for a while so just let them in the front when they come,” your brother relays, moving back towards the basement when you throw up an okay sign. He gives you a knowing look. “You’re always welcome to join, you know. They all love you.”
You crinkle your nose at the idea. Sure, you’re pretty familiar with most of Taeyong’s high school friends, but you really aren’t too keen on the idea of spending your afternoon with a bunch of older boys when you could be hanging out with Mark and Chaewon.
“I’m okay. You guys have fun, though.”
Resuming your attention on your food, you open the front door a couple times over the next hour for said boys. Their features chiseled, styles changed, and voices a bit deeper, they’re all caught by surprise when you open the door for them (Yuta’s inability to recognise you at all really takes the cake). You suppose that a lot can change in two years.
After the seventh ring of the doorbell, you sigh in exasperation before making your way to the front once again. You grumble under your breath before opening the door, the bitter expression wiping right off your face when you see the two figures in front of you.
“Johnny!”
“Y/N,” the familiar boy exclaims, his towering stature enveloping you in a warm hug before pulling back and examining your growth. “Look who’s all pretty and grown! You look so much like Taeyong now that it’s scary,” he beams at you while turning your face side to side with his hands, and you can’t help but return it. If anyone was as much of an older brother figure as your real one was, it would be Johnny.
“Hey,” a voice sounds out besides him after a few moments of Johnny’s compliments, startling you, and your eyes finally flick over to the subject of your teenage years’ daydreams. Your heart floods with a jittery feeling when he reaches out to give you a hug. “It’s nice to see you again, Y/N.”
Jeong Jaehyun hasn’t changed a bit since you last saw him at your brother’s graduation.
His hair is a bit longer now, dark brown curls shimmering gold in the sunlight and his ears now adorned with more silver studs and rings. But the sun-kissed freckles dusting his nose, the deep-set dimples, the starry eyes — they’re exactly the same as you remember.
He’s still breathtaking.
Johnny bursts your little moment as he grabs your arm to lead you back into your house, pulling both you and Jaehyun along with him to the basement entrance.
Even though you’re painfully aware of your fingers nervously playing with the bracelets on your wrist, it’s true that these boys practically watched you grow up. Even when you look at a certain brown-eyed boy, your whole world feels like it's stopping. Even when your stupid childhood crush on your brother’s best friend was supposed to be gone by now. You know them, and they know you.
After Johnny and Jaehyun disappear down the stairs with a small goodbye and the invitation to join them once again, you head back up to your own room, collapsing onto your bed and staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stars plastered across your ceiling.
You remember your brother and Jaehyun setting them up for you many years ago, their young figures using your bed as leverage to stick them on when you were still too short to reach. You had handed each star carefully to the boys, making sure the adhesive side was up before telling them where to place each one. They waited patiently for you to give them every star until the whole box was empty, the three of you high fiving before you had thanked them enthusiastically. Taeyong had simply pinched your cheek and said, “anything for my baby sister,” before pulling Jaehyun away to play another video game in the living room.
Taeyong was a kind older brother, never complaining when your mother told him to bring you with him and his friends on their little adventures. Occasionally he found you annoying, but his friends never minded your presence, so he couldn’t find a reason to either. You were integrated into their daily outings, the boys taking turns talking and playing games with you as the days progressed.
You think your liking to Jaehyun started then: when your young mind easily confused admiration with puppy love. Your brother’s friends were the nicest boys you had met, certainly nicer than the boys in your class at school. Jaehyun specifically always made sure you were comfortable, making silly faces at you when your eyes met across the room and remembering to bring you snacks from across the street when he got some for his best friend. He was perfect in your eyes.
When you started hanging out more with your own friends as you got older, things never really changed regarding your feelings for the boy. Your secret crush was still as prominent as ever, eyes following his mess of hair whenever he passed you in the hallway at school; it didn’t help that his name was passed around no matter what year you were. Jaehyun this and Jaehyun that, you were definitely not the only girl whose heartbeat stopped whenever he looked their way. He was polite, confident, and undeniably charming, your school’s beloved basketball team captain and a favorite of teachers: the kind of boy everyone wanted to be out of envy, but couldn’t. He was truly untouchable. Your classmates would stare at you in awe when he waved at you through the classroom entrance, telling you how lucky you were that your brother and his group were so cool and how you had guys like Jaehyun over all the time.
But it wasn’t like it was any different at home, where he would smile at you just the same as you worked on your homework in the kitchen before retreating back into the basement with Taeyong.
Even though fifteen year-old you thought your feelings were pretty damn strong at that time, the age gap felt a bit too gaping where kids two years older felt worlds away. By seventeen, they were already off driving and taking weekend trips, your brother’s license making leeway for nights when he and his friends wouldn’t return until sunrise. It felt a little bit like you had been left behind, and yeah, it sucked, but you decided right then and there that you could have fun without them. Taeyong’s friends weren’t necessarily yours in the first place, and you came to the realization that it might have been strange for you to be so close with them at an older age anyway.
If you were sad about not seeing Jaehyun in particular too much anymore, you tried not to show it. Your best friends — Mark and Chaewon — had always known, teasing you relentlessly when the older boy was around, but the idea of him was only a lingering thought at the back of your mind when he graduated. Your ears still perked up hearing his name in passing, but you had your own problems to consume your thoughts and started getting into a new genre of trouble with your friends; the idea of Jaehyun was supposed to be dead and buried six feet under.
So then why was he plaguing your mind like this after years of successfully not thinking about him?
You groan and throw an arm over your face.
Shit.
…
“My little film-maker,” a voice pops up from above you, the grinning face of your brother accompanying it as he surprises you into oblivion. You make a face up at him and offer a reluctant little wave before returning back to your camcorder, zooming in on Chaewon beside you.
You’re on the asphalt outside your house again. The air’s cooler today, a gray sheet of clouds blocking any of the sun’s rays from reaching your golden trio. With your head on Mark’s legs, he strums his guitar gently as Chaewon hums along to the familiar tunes. Her hands are busy on their own, one arm out while her other uses markers to draw a garden into her skin with washed-out blues and oranges.
You turn the camera around to point at Taeyong, the said boy poking his tongue out before plopping down beside Mark.
“I feel like I always find you guys on the ground,” he mutters, observing the way Mark strums his instrument with care and experience. Your friend looks a little intimidated with the proximity of Taeyong leaning towards him, but he plays on nevertheless.
You shrug. “It’s more comfortable.”
“And we’re a little closer to Hell down here,” Chaewon adds on with a grin, pausing from her flesh-art to look up at Taeyong. “We’ll all be heading there soon anyway.”
“Smart girl,” he laughs out, throwing his head back to stare into the sky. He stays there for a good moment before jumping back up onto his feet and twirling a shiny set of car keys around his fingers. “Anyway, I’m afraid I’ll have to steal Y/N for a bit,” your brother fakes a trail of tears down his cheek with his fist. “Don’t miss her too much.”
“Never,” Mark smirks at you, reaching out to pat your arm affectionately when you let out an offended, Oscar worthy sob at his words.
“Don’t have more fun with him than you do with us, babe,” she calls out as Taeyong drags you off. You salute her back before she turns back to her painting.
Stumbling behind your brother to catch up with his long strides, your eyebrows raise when you catch sight of his infamous red Cadillac parked down the winding road. You grip on tighter to your camcorder before jogging up to the passenger side, ready to swing your legs over the side of the convertible.
“Not so fast,” Taeyong calls out, amused, as he strolls up casually to the driver's side. “We’re picking up some of the guys and Johnny already called shotgun yesterday. Take it up with him, rockstar.”
You splutter indignantly before crossing to the backseat with a huff, sinking into the car’s tan, leather seats and crossing your arms. “Not fair, Tae,” you complain at him before he starts the engine, starting off in the direction of an area you’ve never been before. “Where are we even going?”
He doesn’t answer.
Soon enough, three more bodies crowd into your brother’s car after dropping by Jungwoo’s condo, the boy squishing into the back with you as Jaehyun of all people slides into the seat on the other side of you. They offer smiles and quick greetings to you before the car takes off once again.
His proximity hits you far harder than Jungwoo’s, and you know exactly why. You keep your head tilted away from him as you try to focus on Johnny in the front seat, who’s passionately retelling an encounter he had at the supermarket this morning. It’s incredibly hard when Jaehyun moves and his thigh touches yours, fifteen year-old you coming back to life within you and screaming all sorts of insane things at your brain. You can physically feel his warmth radiating off his skin.
“—so we both reach out at the same time, and luckily, I snatch the crate right before her hands do. But,” Johnny pauses to look through the rearview mirror for dramatic effect, his shades glinting as the Cadillac speeds through dusty roads. “You won’t believe who those hands belonged to.”
He stills with the skill of an A-list actor, reaching up to pluck the sunnies off his face and stare right into Jaehyun’s eyes through the silver glass.
“Lim Saemi.”
Everybody has a different reaction to the name-drop, with Jungwoo and Taeyong’s gasp and your muffled noise ringing out as your eyes widen in the slightest. You try to glance at Jaehyun subtly, and his face doesn’t flicker a bit from its usual stoic expression, but you can feel him tense up next to you before relaxing a few seconds later. He appears seemingly unphased, and if you had not been watching carefully from out of the corner of your eye you would have fallen for it.
You know better, though.
“Oh? Is she back home for the summer too?” Jaehyun throws out casually, tucking his chin in his hand as he looks out through the wind.
“Wait Jae… you didn’t know? I thought if anyone would know first, it would be you,” Jungwoo leans back, surprised at this new development. “Even I knew, and everyone knows I don’t catch onto shit.”
“It’s whatever,” Jaehyun mumbles, deflecting the weird looks he receives. He ends the conversation with two words, and the car falls into silence with the only noises being those from tires against gravel. You glance at him before staring straight forward through the dash.
You know Lim Saemi.
Who doesn’t, in all honesty. Saemi is Saemi, and you’d be the weird one if you hadn’t heard her name at least once throughout your school years. She was like straight out of a Dior catalog. With as much impact as your older brother and his posse had left, she was everything all the girls in your year wanted to be: too pretty to be unnecessarily shallow, too smart to use her looks irrationally.
You remember Lim Saemi.
She’s two years older, like Taeyong and Jaehyun and Johnny. She was the girl who was occasionally over at your house during parties when your brother would force you upstairs, her bleached hair and delicate features drawing in everyone immediately. You remember watching from the top of the stairwell as her figure still captured attention in the darkness of winter’s pitch black nights. From your outside point of view, it was like she was the center of a spindling web that stretched throughout the bottom floor of your house; people just couldn’t help but be lured to her.
You wanted to be Lim Saemi.
Just for one day. You needed to know what it felt like to be the center of a certain boy’s affections, even though she attracted every other person’s along the way as well. She was a different type of suburban it-girl, one that everyone was sure would get snatched up into the celebrity world sooner or later with the way she carried herself.
You knew that Jaehyun and Saemi had always been “just friends” — or at least that was what they told everyone — but you could tell he had liked her throughout their high school years. How could you not, especially when you looked at him the same way he looked at her. Back then, it was more curiosity about their complicated relationship than hate fueled jealousy for you. You still couldn’t help but imagine him treating you with the affection he did with her; even as a teenager, you understood why. And ironically, as you sit in the backseat of your brother’s car with the very boy right beside you, the bubbling feeling of envy is uncomfortable in your gut.
Shaking your head out of your retrospective thoughts, you look around in confusion when the convertible starts to slow on a thinning road, towering evergreens blocking the sky from view.
Leading the car through another winding path, it emerges on the other side within acres of grassy fields and wildflower paths that circles a grandiose, central estate home. Marble blocks stretch across its stone ledges like ivy — an intimidating facade if you’ve ever seen one. Taeyong looks at you through the rearview mirror. His eyes crease in pride when he sees the wonder in yours, enraptured by the sight before you.
“Remember when Johnny said that he’d always wanted to go to a local car show?” your brother starts, grinning at his friend beside him. “Well, yours truly saw an ad at the record shop yesterday for one just outside of town. Someone compliment me, I feel like I just made all of our afternoons a thousand times better.”
“This is actually insane, Yong,” Jungwoo breathes out, eyes widening at the unfamiliar setting.
Retro cars of all brands and models are parked across an acre, their shiny coats glinting in the sun as masses of people linger near and talk amongst themselves. The white pillars of whoever’s home is hosting the car show serves as a gathering place for lovers to mingle, precariously held champagne flutes an ironic contrast to the grit and dirt of the event itself.
Johnny lets out a low whistle before resting his weight on the center console and lowering his sunglasses, observing the scene.
“This is exactly my type of place. Old, rich people and hot girls.”
“Oh my god, Johnny,” you laugh out, not at all surprised that those words came from his mouth.
You tear your gaze away from the outside view to look at Jaehyun after hearing his embarrassed groan at Johnny’s words. To your surprise, he’s already looking at you. With his piercing gaze on your face, you look away, flustered, playing it off with a small cough.
Taeyong parks his timeless Cadillac besides others of the same nature before leaving to roam around with Johnny and Jungwoo, buzzing with excitement. It’s no surprise that they make their way over to the group of girls huddled around a vintage truck model first, their giggles ringing out across the field as they throw sly glances to the boys headed their way. You catch sight of your brother leaning towards one in particular before deciding you’ve seen enough and turning to explore by yourself.
Thrilled to be left to your own devices, you follow your own little path off to the side towards a pastel-colored Corvette that had caught your eye earlier. Circling it for a few minutes and capturing it slowly through the lens of your camcorder, you smile happily to yourself while replaying the footage in the shade of a lonely willow tree. The cool breeze brings tangs of clementines and vanilla — from where, you don’t know — as well as the unmistakable scent of petrol and cigarettes as it picks up pieces of your hair before rustling the leaves of the willow.
“Can I see?” a familiar voice startles you. You look up to see Jaehyun’s lean figure making his way over to your crouched one, gesturing to your open camera with his head tilted. “If you’re comfortable, of course,” he adds, the corners of his lips quirking up. Mouth agape slightly for a few seconds, you shake yourself out of your momentary funk and nod, thrilled at his interest.
“The colors show up really well with this lighting, especially ‘cuz I just changed my saturation settings,” you mumble, stopping yourself when you realize he probably doesn’t care that much. Tucking your knees to your chest, you wait nervously as you hand the device to him.
You think your heartbeat just about stops when he replies with a “that’s so cool” under his breath.
Jaehyun holds the camera carefully to his chest before sitting down beside you, leaning against the tree trunk before flipping through your gallery. He takes his time watching every little video clip and picture, giving you a little noise of approval every few clicks.
You’re caught off guard when he sighs and puts the camcorder back in your lap, turning to you with the most serious expression you’ve ever seen grace his features.
“Y/N, you seriously might be better at this shit than the literal mixed media majors at my uni,” he deadpans. Taken aback, you can’t stop the rosy warmth that creeps up your cheeks. “I’m being so for real right now. Don’t ever stop.”
You pause.
“Do you know how reassuring that is to hear, especially from you?” you say with sincerity, holding eye contact with him.
“Hmm? Really, me?”
“Yeah. It feels like I’m doing something right, like I’m not wasting my time on a fruitless hobby.” Confessing one of your biggest fears to someone who’s familiar to you but not, close to you but not — now that’s probably one of the craziest things you’ve done this week, and you do a whole lot of crazy things in a week.
Jaehyun’s expression changes with your words. He doesn’t reply for a while, just seeming to take in the world around him with only his eyes. Looking from the drooping branches of the willow to its dirt-ingrained roots, his face is cast downwards with a faint, melancholic smile.
Now the mood is ruined, you think to yourself, bitter. Why do I always do this?
Before you can change the subject and move on from your awkward burt-out, he clears his throat.
“You know, I admire you a lot Y/N. You and Taeyong,” he starts, the slim chain around his neck glittering in the afternoon sun when he turns back to you. “Both of you have always been unafraid to pursue the arts, even though I know how your strict parents are about future careers and all that. I wish I had the courage to just… do what I like instead of being a pushover with my dad. Maybe I would be doing music with your brother instead of barely living day by day in pre-med.”
His usual confident eyes are tinged with regret and a little vulnerability as he ruffles his hair in the wind. You tilt your head at him, trying to come up with comforting words when you aren’t so sure if you’re qualified to give him advice in the first place.
“Well… I admire you a lot, Jaehyun. You’ve always been that one person who consistently looks like they have their life in check, someone who’s able to put their all in everything that they do. It’s really a quality to be proud of,” you say to him honestly. “I think you’ll do well wherever you end up. So don’t worry too much, okay?”
The boy stares at you like no one’s ever said that to him, and no one has; even if this might be a passing comment for you, it’s something that he feels relief to finally hear.
“Thanks.” He says it so quietly that you almost miss it, but you can hear the gratefulness in his voice nevertheless. You both look away for a few seconds when a brilliant yellow bird flutters past the two of you, settling on the ground in front to peck at a white speck in the soil. “Pretty,” he mumbles under his breath, blinking at the animal.
And with that, Jaehyun shakes his head a bit before resuming back to his relaxed demeanor. He lets out a breath of air and runs his tongue over his teeth.
“Sorry for getting so deep all of a sudden,” he apologies, sheepishly rubbing his neck as you let out a little laugh.
“No, it’s nice to hear that the Valentine Boy has troubles too,” you tease lightly, recalling the God-like aura he used to carry 24/7 when you were younger and the nick-name that followed him around as a result. Jaehyun visibly cringes at your words, no doubt getting high school flashbacks.
“Not that,” he replies, embarrassed. “Anyway, I feel like I haven’t gotten the chance yet to ask you how you’ve been these past few years.” You glance up at him in surprise. He sounds strangely sincere for someone you weren’t that close with out of your brother’s friends, and the confusion must show on your face because he finds it in himself to clarify. “Oh come on, Y/N. I feel like we’ve known each other since forever but I’ve missed a crucial part of your growing up. You’re like a whole different person now.”
“I’d hope so,” you lament, fiddling with your camcorder. “I’ve gone through too much shit to be the same as sixteen-year old me.” Jaehyun laughs out loud at your answer, knowing exactly how you feel as someone who was once a fresh, high school graduate.
“Yeah? Well it seems like just yesterday when you were complaining about being bored after school from not having enough homework—” he stumbles over his words when you push his body with a light shove, the boy barely able to get breaths in with how much he’s laughing at your past cluelessness of how hard high school would really be.
“None of you guys warned me about the horror of calculus, so that is not my fault Jaehyun,” you pout, shaking your head at him.
“So it’s my fault?” he smiles, questioning your statement.
“Yes.” A lie.
“And I’m the reason why you almost failed second semester math?”
“Yes.” Another lie. Wait. “What— how do you even know about that?” You demand, incredulous. Jaehyun just raises his eyebrows and hides his growing grin behind his hand. “Fucking Lee Taeyong.”
He looks overjoyed at your seething, playfully poking out his bottom lip in a mock-frown before getting up and dusting off his pants. Offering a hand to you, Jaehyun uses his strength to pull you to your feet; you’re hyper-aware of the warmth of his palm as your hands linger for a millisecond before he pulls away.
I’m so screwed, you think to yourself, blinking at the sky with fervor. Shaking your head, you tuck your hand to your side and try not to think of his skin on yours.
“They’re finally done flirting,” he notes with a hum, making an acute observation as you both spy the three other boys heading back to the car, their reluctant forms obvious when you see one girl hold up her hands in a ‘call me’ sign.
Smirking, you skip ahead of Jaehyun before turning back and waving your wallet at him.
“25000 won that we’ll see one of those girls walk out of Tae’s room tomorrow morning,” you chant as Jaehyun jogs to catch up with you. Chuckling, he pushes your wallet away.
“Nah, that man doesn’t give a fuck about the time of day. 25000 that she’s gonna be at your house in twenty,” he counters, snorting when you gag at the thought.
You can’t help but light up at his content face; this feels like this is the first time you’ve ever had a real, honest to goodness, conversation with him as a young adult.
And you’re in trouble, because you think you like it more than you should.
…
“I did it,” Chaewon confesses over the phone, the sound of a knife against a chopping board from her end revealing her current position.
“What,” you inquire, “you finally passed your license test?”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“Never.” You flash a wicked grin at the sheet music in your hands, shuffling through the never-ending leaflets.
When Taeyong had said he’d pay you to organize his papers, you clearly weren’t thinking straight enough to be saying yes to this hell. He’s been out for an hour already and not even a third of the pile is sorted through. You slump forward on the couch and shake out your tired hands, groaning when your knuckle hits the coffee table with a painful thump.
“For your information, I don’t need to drive. Hot girls take public transportation,” she retorts with a humph.
“Can’t argue with you there, passenger princess.”
“Oh please, I can literally feel the sarcasm dripping from your voice.”
You laugh, a “you know me, Chae” accompanying the sound ringing out through your empty house. Gathering Taeyong’s work into your arms and dumping the rest on the table, you slide onto the carpeted ground with a sigh. Your bones are overly sore from sitting for too long and the couches seams have made painful, little white imprints on your thighs. With a click of your tongue, you inwardly curse your brother for offering such good deals to a minimum wage paid, about-to-be uni kid, or else you wouldn't be spending a perfectly good Saturday afternoon on whatever this is.
“So,” you prompt, “what did you do this time.”
“Ha,” Chaewon starts.
“I’m scared.”
“Ran into Jaehyun today.”
“Aaand that’s my cue to hang up now,” you sing, slipping the phone between your shoulder and ear, the warm device tucked neatly in the crevice of your neck before you hear the sound of your doorbell ringing out.
“Wait—”
“Hold on for a sec, Chae. Someone’s at the door.”
You will yourself to get up from the carpet before making your way over to the front of the house, preparing yourself for a blast of hot summer air to hit you. The silver knob twists under your hand as you swing the door open slowly, expecting the mailman or a delivery on your front porch. Certainly not—
“—Hey.”
Your eyes flick up in surprise.
“Oh shit,” Chaewon whispers over the phone. “That’s not who I think it is, right?”
It’s been a week since you last saw Jaehyun face to face, and your conflicted inner thoughts have been battling in your conscience for the entirety of it. Well, this isn’t great.
“Hi Jaehyun,” you manage to sound out, mentally chastising yourself for sounding so nervous.
“And that’s my cue to hang up now,” the voice at the other end of your call snickers, the long beep of it ending blaring into your ear.
Your arm drops to your side, phone in hand, as you stare pointedly at Chaewon’s contact info lighting up the screen, her eyes mocking you through her profile picture. Jaehyun lifts an eyebrow as he looks between your phone and your face, seemingly questioning if you’re currently busy through his eyes alone.
“Umm…” your gaze flits around in flusteration, looking just about anywhere but him. “Taeyong’s not home right now, if that’s why you’re here.”
“Oh? Do you know when he’ll be back?” he asks, relaxed as he leans his body against the doorframe.
“He’s picking up stuff from Johnny’s across town, so like,” you glance up at the clock, “an hour? I could uh… call you when he gets back if you want.”
Jaehyun simply pokes his tongue into his cheek in contemplation before tucking his hands into his pockets.
“Nah, it’s okay. I’ll just stay.” With a small smile, he adds on, “if you're okay with that, of course.”
You peer past him to see his shiny black Mustang sitting in front of your house, before returning to your original position and shrugging at the foyer. Losing your shyness momentarily as you let out a puff of air, you follow Jaehyun in before deciding to answer.
“My company is a blessing in itself, isn’t it,” you think out loud, displaying a cheeky smile when Jaehyun turns around to playfully scoff at you.
“Now that’s a sure thing, Y/N.”
The boy seats himself on one of the kitchen barstools and places his chin in his hand, leaning over the counter to stare at you as you busy yourself with the fridge.
In all honesty, you weren’t prepared to see him again. He’s already been occupying your mind a little too much for your liking during this past week, the idea of his return to your life teetering you on the edge of insanity. You didn’t know high school crushes hit that hard two years later, and it certainly doesn’t help that his golden skin and constellation of tawny freckles have made an almost daily appearance in the Lee household — just like the old times.
“I think we still have that special glass-bottled lemonade from the farmer’s market last weekend, unless,” you pause, sifting through the multitude of items in the ice box. “Yup. Nevermind. Taeyong finished all of them.”
Jaehyun snorts, already familiar with his best friend’s midnight tendencies of clearing out the fridge whenever, wherever.
“We also have water? And um… milk. And Vodka.”
“This sounds like Yuta’s fridge, and that thought alone is like, genuinely terrifying,” Jaehyun observes from behind you. You shake your head, recalling the first time you saw the said boy’s freezer stash of condiments and liquor at a house party a few years ago. Only condiments and liquor.
“Oh! And cold noodles,” you hold up the container with a little shake. “I remember you liking my mom’s version of them,” you mumble quietly, willing yourself to turn around when the cold air from the fridge starts to sting your eyes.
Jaehyun observes you curiously, a question at the tip of his tongue. You remember?
He stops himself from blurting it out when you seat yourself across from him and push the container towards his direction.
“You practically live here anyway. Help yourself,” you say a bit louder, embarrassed about the fact that you remember such a miniscule detail about him.
You squint at the countertop — which you honestly wish would swallow you whole — as Jaehyun moves around you to pour himself a glass of water. His muscles strain against his loose t-shirt as he moves around your kitchen with familiarity, and you turn away with wide eyes when you realize you’ve spaced out while staring at his back.
It’s a situation that younger you would have never imagined; you had simply never been left in a room with him alone. Your brother and his other friends were always there, a subtle reminder of the distance between you two and the fact that he was probably still worlds away.
But you’re an adult now, and it’d be a lie if you said that you don’t want Jaehyun to notice you in that way.
Feelings are too complicated to think about sober. You grimace to yourself, pressing two fingers against your temple as you lean your cheek against the cool, hard marble of the countertop.
“Y/N?” you lift your head up at your name, flinching back in surprise when Jaehyun’s face appears at the edge of your vision, his figure buzzing with excitement as he gapes at you. “This is yours, right?”
Your eyes drift to the black canisters in his palm. My film.
“Oh yeah— wait. I forgot to develop those ones,” you make your way over and take the undeveloped film rolls into your hands, the boy observing you with wide eyes.
“That’s sick. Do you develop them yourself?”
“Hm? Nah, I bring them to the camera store downtown. Left them in the fridge to preserve for a while so they should be good to go now.”
It’s only when you look up from the canisters that you spy his expression, the pure giddiness painted on his features catching you off guard. Jaehyun’s body language tells you that he is unnervingly thrilled about his new discovery.
“You were never into this kind of stuff when Taeyong and I were still here in high school,” he brings up slowly, letting the words sit on his tongue before following you when you head towards the stairs. “If I had known…” he trails off, pursing his lips to the side so that his notorious dimples show.
You peer at him over your nose bridge curiously. If he had known, he would've what?
Jaehyun pokes his tongue into his cheek and furrows his brows, thinking about the times when he was over at your house after school and you would be nowhere to be seen. Is the dark room where you were, or were you out taking pictures at the rink and shooting short films with your friends? Maybe at the park with your old camcorder and skateboard? The fact that he never knew about so many of your hobbies is almost troubling considering how long he’s known you, and it makes him shift in place. He supposes he never really took the time to know his best friend’s little sister, but looking at you as you stare back, you’re so much more than that.
Had you always shared so much in common?
“Well, imma go upstairs and watch a movie,” you resume your climb before pointing upward. “You can come up until Tae comes home, if you want?”
The boy glances at the door momentarily, contemplating how Taeyong would react if he found him in his sister’s room. Would he kill me? Maybe.
He shrugs. Fuck it, I could totally beat him in a fight, Jaehyun reasons, smiling to himself. He doesn’t know how he reached that conclusion, but he thinks he’s joking. Mostly.
“The real question is, what’re we watching? If it’s some romcom shit I’m leaving,” Jaehyun raises a challenging brow with his smirk as he follows you nonetheless, hand following yours dangerously close on the wooden handrail.
“Not my problem you’ve got no taste.”
“Oh please,” he rolls his eyes, pushing his body into view as you push open your bedroom door, “I might actually die if I see DiCaprio’s face one more time, and you can’t tell me it’s not you that has all of his movies in the living room cabinet, ‘cause they’re definitely not your brother’s.”
“That seems a bit of a personal issue between you and him, Jaehyun,” you let out a laugh with your words. Turning around to flick on the light switch, you’re met with his face closer than it was before. “What.”
“What?” he repeats, almost mockingly. “Oh, sweetheart. You think this face isn’t DiCaprio level?”
Your face heats up without your consent, flustered at the sudden proximity and the fact that you most definitely think Jaehyun’s better than all of your favorite actors combined. You would never admit that to him for the life of you, though.
You swallow before pushing him lightly, making your way into the center of your bedroom.
“Admit it,” he sings, not giving up as he relentlessly parks himself in front of you with his legs set further apart so that he can look at you at eye level. “I bet even Ji Chang-wook’s got nothing on me.”
“Woah woah woah,” you gasp in offense, throwing a hand up to your chest. “Now that’s crossing the line, buddy. Ji Chang-wook’s got something on everybody.”
“I bet,” Jaehyun drawls out sarcastically, eyes flipping to the ceiling ludicrously slow. He seems to glitch for a few seconds, mouth open but no words coming out. “Especially with the way his face is plastered… on… your ceiling? You fall asleep to that?”
Your eyes widen when you have the sudden realization that Jeong Jaehyun is in your room, in your personal space, looking at your things. And that most certainly includes the poster of Ji Chang-wook next to the plastic stars above your bed, glassy, plastic-y eyes staring down at your ruffley bed sheets and everything. In your defense, it was the result of a lost dare — but he doesn’t know that. Wow, you think to yourself, regretting all of your life decisions, I’m just so good at first impressions.
“Yes,” you give up somewhat dejectedly, offering him a (hopefully) confident smile before pulling a projector from under your bed and setting it up on your bedside table.
Jaehyun just shrugs and seats himself on your bed, muttering a little “cute” that you miss before observing as you give the machine a few good slaps so it’ll turn on. Settling against the wall, he lets his eyes flutter over your decor and multitude of things plastered across every inch of your space. If anything, the way your room’s changed since the last time he was in it gives him an outlook into your life that he wouldn't have known otherwise.
From the blockbuster movie ads on your door to the unfiltered sunlight reflecting off your mirror, the shoelaces tied around your closet door to the origami threaded around your ceiling fan, he feels like he’s falling. Maybe, just maybe, he even finds a bit of himself in the painted shoe boxes shoved under your desk and your circular record shelf. Even the stars he and Taeyong stuck on years ago are still there too. He recognizes bits and pieces here and there, but thrown together in one place, a cohesive picture forms in front of him. It’s suffocating — in a good way — as if he’s been thrown into the unknown and is hit with a new side of you at full force; everything, everywhere, all at once.
“Ha!” you exclaim, holding out a fist for Jaehyun to bump when your projector flickers on. With a bright grin, you flop onto the bed beside him and wait for the whirring of the projector to start with a hollow click.
The beginning few seconds of the film you’ve chosen roll onto your makeshift movie screen, a white sheet hanging by its threads from your vanity, as the bright images light up your figures with a burning white.
Jaehyun figures out what you’ve done just as a familiar face blurs into view, the moving calligraphy of The Great Gatsby scrawled across your bedroom wall while you poke out your tongue at him, high off of the mere fact that you’ve gotten your way. You hear him let out a defeated sigh from beside you, his knee hitting yours as he settles into your comforter nevertheless.
“Sharp as hell, aren’t you. I should’ve known DiCaprio would show up in my sight sooner or later.”
…
Summer tastes like melted sugar crystals in cherry garcia — or rather, summer tastes like Mark Lee’s Strawberry-Rouge Extravaganza, the latest, state-of-the-art item on his Record Shop menu. When you ask why the random French is thrown in there, he defends himself adamantly, claiming that his three years of secondary French language classes have practically made him a local.
“It’s like a metaphor for saying, ‘I love you,’” Mark claims with sass, even though you don’t make the connection (“That’s not what a metaphor is…?” you mumble quizzically under your breath). He ignores the weird look you throw at him and goes back to his mixing on the counter of the cashier station. “And it feels like a warm hug, because what better to express that than sparkly, drunk goodness.”
“Wow,” Chaewon deadpans, not even looking up from her nails that she’s painting right next to him. The mix of nail polish and liquor makes you scrunch your nose as you organize the main display, a rotating shelf that headlines Blondie. “You should be a poet. You have such a way with words.”
“I don’t need your negativity in my life, girly.” You almost choke on air when you hear a sharp snap of Chae’s gum in retaliation, her icy glare making Mark wilt under her gaze.
Their intense, non-verbal argument is saved by the dinging of a customer opening the door to the shop. You whip around to greet them only for your words to die right in your throat. Two silhouettes step in, their tall stature and familiar features blocking the sun from shining through the entranceway.
“…Jaehyun, Jungwoo! How are you guys?” Mark offers when he sees you fall silent.
The two greet happily right back, sliding past you to pat him on the back and exchange handshakes. Jaehyun lingers by your side for a little, holding his fist out for you to tap like you did just the other day in your room.
“We knew we’d find you guys in here,” Jungwoo laments, looking around the shelves before his eyes land on Mark’s… setup. You have to admit, this one looks a bit more pleasant than his past drink recipes, and you can tell that Jungwoo agrees wholeheartedly. His hand lingers on a bottle of sparkling vanilla wine as Mark slices red fruit ardently with a plastic, cafeteria knife. A paper cup holds the rest of his special ingredients: rock candy on wooden sticks, shattered candy hearts, and star-shaped ice cubes. You’d be lying if you didn’t admit that it looked delicious, like something you would order at a beach-side bar.
Jungwoo seems to find the situation amusing, a trio of barely-adults passing slow, withering days in their own little makeshift paradise. Leaning against the countertop like he’s on the cover of Parisian Vogue, he nicks his baseball cap up a bit higher to look into the three of yours’ eyes better.
“Johnny’s throwing a party.”
That’s all anyone needs to say before Chaewon’s attention is snagged, her eyes gaining an undeniable gleam.
“We’re going,” she speaks for everyone in the room, especially looking you square in the eyes as if saying, you’re not escaping this time, young lady.
“Mhm,” Jaehyun confirms, a hand rubbing at his pulse as he swings an arm over Jungwoo’s shoulders. “A fancy mixer, kinda, the day after tomorrow. We’ll have all the booze, so the only thing you need to bring is yourself.”
“And,” the latter chimes in, “it’s at Johnny’s countryside estate, so y’all can do whatever illegal shit you kids get yourself into without worrying about anything.”
Chaewon lets out a small scoff at his words, mumbling a “we still do here it anyway” under her breath and throwing a knowing look at the alcohol in front of Mark that’s very blatantly in every passerby’s sight.
As Jungwoo relays more information about the plans to them at the front of the shop, Jaehyun turns to follow your path as you diligently place records back in their places in the depths of the store.
“Do you wear silver or gold?”
You jump at his appearance out of nowhere, glancing at him with a certain hesitation at his question. Your confusion as to how this topic appeared so suddenly is painted blatantly across your face as you close the last turntable with a click.
“Why?” You pause. “But both. Depends on my mood.”
“Because this is yours now.”
He reaches into his jeans’ front pocket, pulling out something in his fist before reaching for your hand and dropping a small, plastic ring in the middle of it.
It’s neon orange and ugly as hell, like something you would find stuck to gum on the underbelly of a school desk. But hey, who are you to complain when Jaehyun looks so pleased at himself as he looks between your face and the ring, trying to gauge your reaction to his surprise gift. And, you’re definitely not complaining when it’s a gift from Jaehyun himself.
“Thank you…? Also,” you squint, picking up the ring to slide onto your pointer finger, “this isn’t silver or gold.” He shrugs half heartedly.
“Sucks to suck.”
You kick the tip of his Converse as he laughs with his whole body, the boy’s deep voice filling the small space.
“It’s from the coin toy machine outside,” he explains. With a broad grin, he pulls his other hand from out of his pocket and waves it in your face. The whole rainbow has found its home on his fingers, all silly swirls and squiggles of nylon with glued on googly-eyes half falling off.
It’s the pure childish elation you share which makes you unknowingly sink deeper and deeper into the ocean that is Jeong Jaehyun, and you would have felt the metaphorical gasps of air your lungs so desperately need if not for the momentary distractions he provides.
You suppose all of this is your own doing anyway.
…
It feels as though Autumn has made a reverse pit-stop in the middle of summer.
If not obvious by the way the seasonal trees are drooping with a sudden dewy chill, it’s the sudden absence of people in general that serves as a telltale sign. There’s almost no cars on the road, fewer students out and about, and less frequent public transportation.
The last one in particular really speaks to Jaehyun.
Scrunching his nose at the crisp air, he exits the hole-in-the-wall café he usually frequents when he’s bored, the biting coldness of a mid-August day unfamiliar to him. The boy spent almost the entire day inside; switching between staring at the weather app on his computer and deleting emails from his overflowing inbox for two hours wasn’t the way he thought he’d spend the afternoon, but alas, waiting that long at the crumbling bus stop wasn’t ideal either. He much prefers being warm, caffeinated, and pretending to read a scientific journal than freezing his ass off on a metal bench.
Anyone would think the same, Jaehyun shrugs to himself… at least until he starts nearing said bench.
Jaehyun stops mid-step when he spots something strange, side-eyeing the undeniably familiar blob crouching at the bus stop approaching on the right.
Why? Well, it's swathed in an oversized hoodie, has a keychain-ful backpack hanging low on its shoulders, and is suspiciously Y/N-shaped.
And if that doesn’t tell him anything, well, the way your eyes go comically wide when you turn to the right and coincidentally meet gazes with Jeong Jaehyun of all people definitely does. It’s the way he’s standing there like a runway model with his hood over his head, dimples on full show as he raises his eyebrows at you and his expensive-looking leather bag hanging off of one shoulder that almost causes you to fall over. Luckily, you pull yourself together before something embarrassing happens, like losing your balance and crashing into the road (not that it’s happened before, of course…). You’re well aware that you tend to get distracted easily, and you’re definitely in trouble because that man is one hell of a distraction.
Getting up quickly and dusting the invisible dust off your legs, you offer him an embarrassed wave as he approaches you.
“How long have you been sitting there? It’s fucking cold outside,” Jaehyun calls out, concerned, glancing down at your skirt and the way you hide your hands in your hoodie sleeves. Sidling up next to you, he bounces on the balls of his feet a little before stuffing his own hands in his pockets.
“It’s okay,” you smile down at the way your shoes match next to his on the sidewalk, “I’m used to the bipolar weather. Plus, it’s not that cold when you’ve got these!” Tucking your lip between your teeth, you rustle around in your sweater-paws before popping out your hands proudly in front of you. Nestled in your palms are old hand warmers, their heat fading but worth their purpose nonetheless.
“Only you would have hand warmers in stock during the middle of summer, Y/N,” he shakes his head in disbelief, but the smile threatening to take over his face makes his eyes crinkle up in amusement.
“Mhm,” you say, distracted as you see the bus pull up to the sidewalk from down the road, “I’ve got a whole box in my backpack. Who knows, maybe an ice storm will hit one day and I’ll be the only one with hands while everyone else’s freeze off.”
He pauses in place, speechless at your comment. You simply shrug at him, as if saying that’s the way life goes, before nodding to the bus driver and climbing up the vehicle’s steps. “Don’t worry, I’d share mine with you.”
Jaehyun lets out a breath in disbelief.
Your attitude is truly refreshing, and he can’t even begin to describe what a breath of clean air it is to talk to you everyday; he’s used to girls coming up to him with hidden intent, their eyes tinged with lust as they disguise their interest with false pretenses and flowery words. Flattery is what it began with, but after years of receiving nothing from their end while he found himself aimlessly hoping for someone genuine and it was disappointing that he couldn’t find even one. He’d wish they would just treat him normally and act like themselves, a person not afraid to be genuine with him and let their inner child show.
It’s as he observes the way you hum as you climb up and give a playful salute to the driver that he realizes you’re the perfect balance of both, the maturity in you shining admirably at the times when it is needed while never acting like something you’re not.
Jaehyun blinks at your figure before tugging on your arm to move around you, swiping his bus pass twice before you can even register what’s happened. He lets a smug grin take over his face before pulling you to the back of the bus and plopping down beside you.
“Thank you for paying for me,” you tilt your head at him, tucking your card back into your pocket. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to, though.”
You give him a grateful smile before remembering something that you had meant to show him, pulling out the walkman you found in your grandmother’s cellar yesterday from your backpack, a dusty old thing that still works perfectly fine. Looping its built-in headphones around your neck, you tilt the player towards him before offering him the small device. Turning it around in his hands, he gapes in undeniable awe as he taps the plastic cover with intrigue.
You knew he’d like it.
“I haven’t seen one of these in so long. Whose grave did you raid to get this, the hell?”
“Found it yesterday in my grandparent's cellar, and before Taeyong got his hands on it. I thought that you’d find it interesting so I was planning on showing you later this week, but hey, look who I happened to run into today.”
He simply shakes his head before bringing the machine up to his eyes and popping open its cover, a finger coming up to trace the dust out of the inside of it.
“Do you have a cassette to put in it or…?” he begins, looking up at you. You shake your head. “We can go to the vintage shop downtown later to get you some, if you want.”
“Really? You’ll go with me?”
“Yeah, Y/N. You’ve always got the coolest things to play around with, and we can go shove this in Yong’s face too. He’s gonna be so jealous.”
“You just wanna annoy my brother,” you snort, nudging his arm.
“You’ve got me there.” He holds up his hands in mock surrender before poking his tongue inside his cheek, eyebrows furrowing in thought. “Or… I could make you a personalized mixtape?” Your jaw drops comically, no words coming out of your mouth as you just stare at him.
“Are you being serious right now?”
“So, so serious.”
“If you did, I would actually lose my mind,” you finally close your mouth in amazement. “You’d probably be my favorite person ever.”
“Well, then that would be well worth it. I’ll work on it when I’m back in the studio at uni,” Jaehyun smiles genuinely, handing you your walkman back before swinging his leather bag back onto his shoulder as the bus pulls to a halt. With a parting pat on your shoulder, he mouths a goodbye before descending the aisle.
“This is my stop. See you at the party, Y/N.”
…
When you had received the call on a quiet Saturday afternoon from Mark that he and Chaewon would be leaving earlier to help set up for Johnny’s weekend party — the one that Jungwoo and Jaehyun had only told you about just a few days prior — the possibility of not having a ride to bring you hadn’t even struck yet. You were too busy thanking your friends that they had granted you two more hours for an afternoon nap, and an extra 60 minutes to get ready; a truly ideal day in your opinion.
It’s only when you’ve given yourself a final look in the mirror, admiring the new dress that you’ve donned at the last minute, do you hear the undeniable honk of a car outside. Brushing aside the curtains and trying to get your eyes to focus in the dark, you make a noise of panic when you spy Jaehyun’s car outside your house.
What’s he doing here?
You'd spent far more time with Jaehyun in the past few days than you have in your entire lifetime, running small errands with him when Taeyong's not there and browsing through retro stores in nearby towns for old cassettes. With every hour more spent together, it felt like you were getting closer to knowing his feelings, and that in itself excited you to no end. He'd end every drive together with a knowing look and some sort of physical touch, and each goodbye left you in anticipation for the next time you'd see him.
Sprinting down the stairs and grabbing your shoes as fast as you can, you rush out into the street where the Mustang’s tinted windows prevent any passerby from making out any faces from the outside.
As you approach the driver’s side, the window rolls down to reveal the owner of the car.
“Hey,” Jaehyun grins at you, his pupils dilated and the faint smell of smoke lingering on his breath.
It feels like forever since you’ve seen him, even if it’s only been a few hours since you last saw each other. You can feel your head fog up when you fully take in his appearance; with his hair slicked back and his button-up undone to reveal sharp collarbones and a dangling, silver cross, he looks godly as the moonlight basks him in a paper-white glow.
“Chaewon and Mark had to stay later to help set up more and Taeyong’s been pregaming since six, so he sent me to pick you up. You can get in the back.”
You hum in understanding before climbing into the backseat, tucking your hands under your thighs before looking up at the front of the car.
Your heart drops.
“Hi,” the girl in the shotgun seat lilts, her bleached hair falling into wavy ringlets against Jaehyun’s leather seats. “Y/N, right? I remember you! You’re Yongie’s baby sis.”
You itch to fill the silence that follows, even though you assume she would have no trouble clearing it with her well-known, extroverted dynamic. There’s an unnamed tension in the car between the two people in the front seat, and it’s so intense that you could cut it with a knife.
You take shallow breaths, not sure what to make of your position. I’m sitting in a car with my crush and his former situationship— holy. How did we get to this point? She’s literally—
“—Lim Sae-mi,” you attempt to give her a genuine smile, flashing your teeth in what you pray isn’t an awkward expression.
Saemi simply twinkles in the rear view mirror, her delicately painted lips stretching up before she twists around to observe you.
“You do remember me! Look at how pretty you are too,” she exclaims, reaching back to pat down a strand of your hair, her voice laced with sticky sweetness. “You could be a model, just like Yongie. And your hair is so healthy, I’m jealous. Isn’t her hair so so nice, Jae?”
Jaehyun snaps to attention at the mention of his name, seeming to be in some sort of haze with the way he looks like he’s holding his breath for as long as humanly possible.
“Yeah.” You find yourself wilting in the slightest at his monotone voice. Looking out the window as he starts driving towards the outskirts of town, you try not to let yourself be too disappointed at the way he loses such distinctive qualities when around the girl sitting next to him.
Jaehyun freezes up when Saemi turns to him all doe-eyed, flashbacks flitting through his mind of the days when he’d anticipate the moments he’d see her again when they were younger. Strangely enough, the effect that she used to have on him — palpitating heart, nervous ticks, rosy cheeks, uncanny attraction — seems to have dissipated. Now, highschool-Jaehyun seems so far away, and their memories even further.
What’s changed?
“Um,” you start as you watch suburban lights zoom by less and less frequently, your brain working just as fast to eliminate some of the weird, awkward tension happening in the car. You don’t really know enough to make conclusions, but something must have happened in the past for them to react to each other like this. “How’s SNU? Do you guys run into each other often on campus?”
Jaehyun chuckles lowly, a tinge of uncertainty lining his tone as he waits for Saemi to answer your question.
“Right, you’re going to uni next year right? Hmm… we don’t really see each other on campus at all, now that I think about it,” she simpers, frowning at the road in front of her before brightening up in less than a second. “But that's because Jae’s so busy, preparing to be a future doctor and all. He was always the smartest one out of all of us.”
You watch as he falls silent, knuckles tightening on the steering wheel as his jaw clenches ever so slightly.
“Hey, we should catch up sometime Jae,” she adds on with a tone like she doesn’t really mean it before turning her gaze to him, tacking on a noise of agreement with herself as if she's already decided that they will.
She knows they won’t.
You watch their eyes meet briefly before Jaehyun breaks it to turn the steering wheel left onto a never-ending stretch of a lone, empty road.
Saemi’s a hard person to figure out. You know that she’s charming when she wants to be and firm when she needs to be, but you also know from Taeyong that she has a personality she can flip on and off like a switch; it’s almost as if mind games with the people around her are amusing, and it’s up to the other person to figure out what her true intentions are. It’s understandable why so many people find her alluring.
Glancing up at the back of her head once more, you observe as she leans back with a faint frown before swallowing something in her hand that looks like a bottled shot. She looks uncomfortable as she shifts in her seat every few minutes, and you’re not sure if she’s more put off by the alcohol or by Jaehyun. Your guess would be the latter, even if her voice makes it seem like she’s the most confident person in the world.
You don’t even attempt to start another conversation, instead opting to roll down the window so that you can watch empty land flash by, an occasional plant breaking the smooth ground. The car picks up speed on its own with no other vehicle in sight, the only light coming from the rising crescent moon and a solo gas station situated further down the road.
The three of you perk up as you approach the oil refill and the only other car at the station, a big pick-up with dressed-up figures leaning out of its windows and sitting around the back cargo bed. You assume they’re heading to the same place you are with the way they all shout at each other as they pass a dark bottle back and forth. A boy gets out of the driver’s seat to walk over to Jaehyun’s car and lean through Saemi’s side of the window, shades pushed up into his hair and beads and cuban links dangling out of his shirt. You don’t recognize him, but you’re not surprised when Johnny knows just about every young person in the world.
“Jaehyun, man! And Saemi, damn, I haven’t seen you guys in a while. Headed to Johnny’s?” he exclaims with a loud voice and wide smile, reaching in to pat a long-lost friend on the shoulder. Just like that, the extroverted Jaehyun and Saemi are back, conversing with him as if their awkward energy and off demeanors didn’t just dictate the ride over.
The guy notices you in the back when your eyes meet accidentally, both of you taken aback.
“And who might this be?” He smirks at you, gaze never leaving yours as he directs the question to the other two in the car. You smile back just to be friendly, but with the way he’s staring at you, you’re not sure if that’s the right way to go about things.
“Lee Taeyong’s sister,” Jaehyun speaks up, glimpsing back at you with an unreadable look. A look of recognition flashes over the stranger’s face as his mouth opens in surprise.
“So this is the sister. Shit, is that why I’ve never seen her around?”
“Yeah.” There’s a bitter undertone to his voice, expression faltering before he raises his eyebrows with a smile. “And that’s why she’s off limits, man. I know that look all too well.”
You look at your brother’s friend in question, leaning forward, but Jaehyun doesn’t even glance at you. Both of you know that Taeyong isn’t really the overly protective type, so why would he say that? Maybe he knows that this guy is bad news, so he’s warning me. You nod to yourself, satisfied with your quick thinking. That sounds about right.
You’re about to offer a comment yourself, but you’re stopped by a—
“Lim Saemi! No fucking way, is that really you?” another shrill voice calls from across the expanse of the gas station, a former classmate stalking across the black cement in teetering heels as she waves dramatically at the girl in front of you. “It is you! I can’t believe we ran into you like this, you gotta join the party truck now!”
Saemi seems to recognize her, waving dramatically out the window to her friend. In a matter of seconds, the girl has pulled her out of Jaehyun’s car as she laughs at her friend’s antics of tugging on her wrist to string her along, drunk. Saemi throws you and Jaehyun a look that seems to say everything and nothing at the same time; if you were to interpret it in your own language, it would spell out: So sorry I’m ditching you guys! I love both of you to pieces but I’d honestly rather drink bleach than get back in that car. Hope you understand. Muah.
And with that, you watch Saemi switch cars in a matter of moments. The boy follows them back to their chaotic ride to Johnny’s after waving goodbye at Jaehyun, who’s watching them without any emotion bleeding through his stoic face. You can’t even begin to guess what's going through his mind as his eyes flick back to his dashboard, spaced out.
You pause.
“...and then there were two.”
Biting your bottom lip when you realize you mumbled that out loud, and you’ve genuinely never wanted to be six feet under more because the man hasn’t even said a word since she left you two.
Jaehyun freezes at your voice, almost as if he forgot you were in the car. Letting out an airy laugh after a moment, your shoulders relax when you sense that his weird, Saemi-caused demeanor has faded with her sudden absence.
“Wanna move to the front? It’s lonely up here.” You perk up at his belated response, excitedly getting out of the back to slide into the shotgun seat at his invitation. The man next to you seems to visibly relax, stomach releasing and shoulders drooping with less tension as he starts the car and turns back onto the stretch of empty road.
The silence doesn’t bother you this time when Saemi’s absent; it’s pleasant and full, as if both of you needed this momentary break from nonstop life to collect yourself. Staring at the dust picking up along the wheels while the needle on the speedometer rises up and up, you find the scene before you therapeutic in unexplainable ways.
Jaehyun feels the same, his eyes spacey as one hand rests languidly on the steering wheel with ingrained muscle memory. The vehicle coasts past blank acres and rolling hills, the burning moon engaging in hide-and-seek as it appears and disappears behind their peaks. He doesn’t even feel the need to turn up the stereo as he usually does when your audible, light breaths are sufficient enough. It’s comforting in ways he didn’t know he needed.
You recognize how close you are to Johnny’s estate when you see the road before you thin into dirt and pebbles, a grandiose silver gate barely visible in the far distance. Behind the gate is the unmistakable gleam of polished stone, no doubt the road that leads up to the party and an onslaught of cars. If you concentrate hard enough, your mind can even conjure up the deep bass of the music that the host prefers at his mixers, their heavy resonance flowing through the thick soil to the bottom of Jaehyun’s car and all the way up to the soles of your feet.
You’re just about to point your strange observance out when Jaehyun makes a sudden swerve, pulling off to an edge of mangled weeds and tree roots, the car rolling to a shuttering stop just before a barren field of dead plants. Your body lurches forward a bit with the movement, the boy apologizing profusely when he sees you adjust your seatbelt with confusion written all over your expression.
“Fuck, sorry sorry sorry,” he mumbles, moving his hand in front of you as if you could fall out of your seat at any minute. “I just… the stars are stunning right now, we gotta stop for a sec. You don’t mind if we…”
He trails off, distracted, as he pulls the car door open hastily, rushing out to take in the night sky in its full glory. It’s as if he doesn’t move fast enough, the stars will pull a disappearing stunt on him.
It’s endearing to see Jaehyun like this, a smile subconsciously finding its way onto your face when you spot him bouncing on the balls of his feet lightly. His eyes are completely enamored with the sight above him, neck craned up at an odd angle to see everything; from the way his fingers dig into his palms in excitement to the cold flush on his cheeks from the biting evening chill, it’s like he doesn’t know what to do with himself when encountering such a beautiful product of mother nature.
The thought of Johnny’s party evaporates from both of your minds as you find yourself mirroring Jaehyun’s position.
After a few minutes of stillness, he looks at you with the very stars from the sky in his eyes.
“Can we stay here for a bit?”
He beams at your “of course” before hoisting himself onto the cool hood of his Mustang and offering a hand out for you to grab. Pulling you up onto the spot beside him with a huff, he pulls your wrist to shift your body closer to his before smiling contently to himself.
You try not to let your mind spiral at his warm touch, instead focusing your attention on the blanket of constellations that greet you from the inky stretch of night sky. The cold metal of the hood cools your burning skin as your legs stretch out in front of you, skin ghastly as your arms support your weight from behind you.
When he hears your faint intake of breath, Jaehyun allows his eyes to leave the pretty view above him to the pretty view beside him for a few seconds, letting them linger on your side profile as you stare up in awe. They fall from the slope of your nose to the open curve of your lips, circling around your neck and raking over the ornate gems decorating your skin. You’re breathtaking in 1001 ways, and it’s such a pressing realization that he blinks away in shock when your gaze suddenly meets his.
“Do you do this often?”
“When I need to get away for a bit. All of my best ideas come to me at night, I think. There’s just something about darkness and non-artificial light which is curiously inspiring.”
You nod, leaning back on the windshield and resting your head against its glass. Nighttime lets you think in the abstract, where the shadows don’t take shape and remind you to think in a direct and methodical way.
“I get that,” you empathize. “After Taeyong left, I used to climb onto my roof after dark and just sit there alone for hours. I wouldn’t know how much time had passed until I got back into my room, and to be honest, that was my favorite time of the day. It took my mind off things, even if it was only for a few hours.”
“You know, Yong and I used to do that when we were younger. You were too little to remember I think, but we’d go up after your parents fell asleep and throw basketballs down the side of your house to see how far they would bounce up… we probably hit your window too a few times. Only a few.”
“That was you?” you jut, incredulous.
“Oh, so she does remember,” Jaehyun laughs under his breath, playfully avoiding eye contact when you scoff at your brother and his' antics. “Anyway, I wanna go up there again someday.”
“Our roof? I’ll bring you.”
Jaehyun turns to face you.
“Promise? I’m counting on it, Lee.”
You don’t hide your bashful smile this time, looking away when the boy flashes his dimples at you. Your insides flood with warmth as you secretly bring the back of your hand up to feel your cheek, scared of its betrayal of your feelings.
Jaehyun sighs, content, after a few moments, his neck lolling at the joint to stargaze once again. He feels entirely relaxed at this moment; there’s nothing that Mother Nature can’t fix.
“History revolved around looking at the stars and just talking, you know? I wish I could stay here forever and never grow up.”
You tilt your head curiously.
“Why, you don’t like being an adult?”
“Not that,” he shakes his head. “It’s more of, I pretend to be collected and mature and all-knowing, but the feeling of having no control over life magnifies as I get older. My head and heart haven’t grown up fast enough to catch up.”
“Jaehyun.”
“Hm?”
“You don’t ever have to pretend. It’s… it’s okay to not know what you’re doing or what the future looks like, and it’s okay to let yourself go at times too. Being an adult doesn’t mean always knowing the right things to do or figuring out every little detail right now,” your words stumble a bit as they spill out, but he seems to catch onto every word perfectly. “I’m scared too, so it’s kinda ironic that I’m giving you this advice when I can’t follow it myself.”
“We can trade words of wisdom,” Jaehyun offers more lightheartedly. “It’s so much easier to give advice to other people than to yourself.” You can’t think of a better way to phrase it than that.
“And I think simply moving forward with what you can muster is the best we can do,” you add on. Jaehyun just stares at you as you talk, chin in his palm as he takes in your advice with sincerity. “Things will just come and go naturally as we go on.”
“You’re right. Time tells, Y/N. And frankly, you’re so much more mature than me.”
“Me?” You frown, surprised at the fact that he thinks you are. “That’s so strange to hear, because I feel like I’ll never be independent in the way that you and Tae are. Even though we’re not that far apart in age, I’ve always thought you guys were from a different galaxy, like fear wasn’t a word in your dictionary and maturity has always just come naturally.”
“It’s all in the way we carry ourselves, but maturity itself doesn’t come from this,” Jaehyun waves his hand around to outline your body in an imaginary circle, “but from this.” You watch as he taps a purposeful finger against your temple. “And you have more of it than anyone my age. You have a mind that people would die for, and I think that’s something to be very proud of.”
The wind whistles soundly as the two of you take in the world with new perspectives, sitting up a little straighter and legs just barely touching as he moves closer without even noticing. You don’t say anything for a while, and you don’t need to. He recognizes how you need a few minutes to let his words soak in, and that’s what makes you so you. Jaehyun knows you won’t just take his words on a whim and forget them ten minutes later; you’re the kind of person that internalizes everything he says with genuine feeling and gratefulness, and that quality is what makes you, in his opinion, celestial.
“You always know just what to say,” you finally whisper, and he almost doesn’t catch it.
You receive no reply except for the most adoring look in his eyes as he smiles fondly at you. The breeze blows wisps of your hair around your face, and Jaehyun can’t help it when he reaches out to tuck a stray strand behind your ear. His fingers linger — longingly, if you dare say — before he makes himself pull away.
You’re scared to let yourself believe that you might have a chance this time; everything floods back and hits your heart at full power, and you think that your newfound connection you’ve found with the boy over this summer has trumped all of your past memories. Your feelings are fragile, and the way he looks at you is terrifying. He makes your heart race violently; your feelings from when you were fifteen don’t even compare.
“It’s too chilly for a summer month,” he speaks up suddenly, rubbing his arms and trying to lighten the mood. You shake your mind out of its storm of complicated emotions before offering a small smile back.
“Always speaking the truth, aren’t you?” You tease, playing with the hem of your short dress. Jaehyun makes a noise of agreement before a boyish grin stretches across his face.
“Yeah, which is why Leonardo DiCaprio is not—”
“—UH,” You stop him mid sentence, shushing him. “Let’s not finish that sentence.”
“—peak acting which is why—”
“La la la lala,” you sing, covering your ears with your hands childishly and squinting so that you don’t have to see Jaehyun raising an eyebrow at you, amused. “I can’t hear youu.”
“I take back the part about you being more mature than me.” Only one boy is capable of making your moods flip like this, and he’s sitting right next to you as your laughs ring out in tandem through the night.
Eventually, after a few more back-and-forths under the dark sky, Jaehyun takes it upon himself to teach you some astronomical terms. You doubt you’ll remember them, but he promises he’ll make it easy for you to hold in your mental library.
“You need to be prepared,” he stresses, “if you’re gonna come with me next time.”
“Next time… stargazing?”
“Yup,” he answers matter-of-factly. “Let’s see… there’s a triangle of importance in my opinion. The true triune, holy grail of astronomy.”
You watch him sink into his element, musing upon the milky way above.
“Stars,” he air-traces the Orion constellation slowly. “Moons,” he continues, moving his arm in front of you to point at the claw of the silver crescent moon. Jaehyun lets his hand fall, the tip of his finger grazing your skin in the slightest as it hovers in front of your heart. “And celestial bodies.”
…
You mentally prepare yourself to get an earful from Chaewon as the drive up to Johnny’s resumes…
…two hours late.
In your defense, it wasn’t completely your fault. Jaehyun says you can blame it on him when she throws her fit at you being late — and boy, do you know she will — but you also know that when you recount what happened to cause your tardiness, she’ll excuse it. Partially. Maybe even throw in a sushi dinner and smoke sesh, then all of your sins would be forgiven in her book.
You try to distract yourself from Jaehyun’s sweet actions just a few minutes earlier by thinking about where you might find Chaewon and Mark when you get there; maybe the drink-stocked kitchen, where Mark will surely be… or outside, where people like Chaewon usually go with their ziploc bags and scratched-up lighters.
Where would Jaehyun go?
You groan inwardly when you catch your brain drifting to the idea of the man next to you once again, said man driving with a dopey expression on his face as Johnny’s estate comes into full view. You can’t tell if it’s because of a well-needed down-time with the stars (and time with you, if you dare to think optimistically) or because it looks like there’s strobe lights flashing out of every window of the ground floor—
“—holy shit, they really went all out,” Jaehyun gapes, hands slacking on the steering wheel as you both take in the scene before you. “Johnny’s fucking insane. Maybe even like, should-be-checked-into-a-facility insane.”
Your eyes widen as the building unfurls itself before you, a mansion so grand that it’s comparable to Gatsby’s in every way. It’s got a certain vintage charm to it, something you assume Johnny’s parents built in homage to their roots with veiny, marbled stairs and towering Roman columns. The chaos that’s happening in and around the home itself, however, is a different story. You can see the drunk bodies already as they move around to invisible music, and waves of people climb spiral staircases up to the upper levels as they fumble drinks around. Silhouettes of the party-goers are littered across the vast, arched windows, stone trims decorating their sills with impeccable detail; the estate is truly a needle that shines brilliantly in a haystack of country homes, the nearest house being a whole 20 minute drive away. You’d been to his countryside home only once with Taeyong when you were younger, but seeing it in all its glory during the nighttime is a whole different experience.
“Nah,” you grin when he puts the car into park behind a train of assorted automobiles that cover the driveway. “He's that special kind of chaebol-insane. I propose not eating the rich, because what would the world be without Johnny Suh.”
Jaehyun simply chuckles lightly before getting out of the car and walking around to your side, opening the door before helping you out. You’d be lying if you said that the butterflies in your stomach didn’t just seize at his actions.
But nothing good lasts forever.
Just as soon as the butterflies come, they die off when you notice the immediate, uncanny switch in Jaehyun’s disposition.
You’re not sure if it’s the deafening bass-boosted music flooding into the air or the multitude of bodies in front of the house alone as the two of you approach the open door, but he seems to be pushed into a different element the closer you get. You recognize it as the one that you’d only heard of in high school, the one who frequented house parties on school nights with your brother, the one who shone in a room full of people, the infamous heartbreaker Jaehyun.
You can see the shift in his eyes, the way his pupils dilate slowly as they gain that undeniable gleam. You can feel his muscles lose a tension you didn’t even know was there, especially when he swings his arm around your shoulders casually, letting his hand rest against your collarbone. You can hear the calls of his wicked name already from both females and males alike, their shouts pulling him away from you as multiple people are drawn to him right away.
You recognize a few of them, hometown names that make their presence known as they clap Jaehyun on the back and reach out for intoxicated hugs. It’s also now that you realize the sheer amount that the boy you practically grew up with — the very one who spent his school day afternoons playing in your living room — changes when with other people. His popularity was never a mystery to you, but seeing it in person like this… he acts like he’s finally at home. A true socialite who flourishes when surrounded by people.
And you would never hold that against anyone, except until—
“Hey, Y/N, I’ll catch up with you later, okay? Promise.”
Ah.
His voice rings out flippant and unfamiliar, arm slipping from your shoulders like deadweight, and his fingers don’t linger on your skin longingly this time. Without looking back, he’s swept away by a myriad of high school friends as they drag him off to only God knows where. They hand him drinks and jostle around with each other between heated bodies, his silver rings glinting under the lights as he throws his head back for a bitter shot.
You watch as their forms retreat into the depths of the party until the shadows swallow him up and your eyes can’t follow him anymore.
Left to hover awkwardly by yourself at the door of Johnny’s house with no drink in hand and a bewildered twist in your expression, suddenly, all the moments that have led up to now feel like a fever dream. Everything just happened so fast. One minute he’s next to you, and you’re sure you’ve fallen again. Hard. And the next moment he’s gone with the wind, like a figment of a dream flickering in and out of consciousness. Sure, you hadn’t expected to spend the whole night with him, but you thought that after your many little talks he would want to stay with you a little longer than three seconds.
At least he promised to find you later, but you’re still left feeling unsure about where you stand with him in contrast to the bubbling feeling of affection you had felt earlier in the night. The way he acts is giving you emotional whiplash.
I have to find Chaewon and Mark, you think to yourself suddenly, trying to shake your head of Jaehyun-related thoughts. The way he’s plagued your thoughts far too many times these past few months terrifies you, and it feels like you’ve lost your mind for real this time. You’re charged with a new determination to not think about the boy until he comes back to you himself. It’s not worth ruining your night over maybe’s.
Weaving through sweaty figures and waving instinctually at the people who happen to recognize you, you find yourself in a sort of trance as you strain to catch a glimpse of one of your friends. The bass-boosted music fills your ears with a heavy buzz as you make your way through what feels like hundreds of people.
A cold hand abruptly reaches out to grasp your wrist when you approach the closed off kitchen, causing you to cautiously glance back at its owner with your other arm ready to push them off.
“Babe, what are you doing here all alone?”
You jump slightly before giving him a childish slap on his arm as a grinning Mark reaches out to embrace you, and the strong smell of twisted tea pungent on his breath. His hand comes up to tuck your head into his neck familiarly, an old habit from when you were young that tends to come out in his drunk endeavors.
“You scared me,” you mumble into his shirt, voice muffled by the fabric. “I was trying to find you, but there’s literally thirty million people in this damn house.”
Feigning hurt, Mark pulls away to put a hand to his heart. “You can’t recognize me from a house away?” His sarcasm makes you squint at him, your hand reaching out to tug him along with you.
“No, Mark. I actually can’t recognize you from a house away,” you bite back, mumbling an extra, “surprisingly too, because I could probably hear your loud-ass laugh from another country if I really wanted to.”
“Literally shut up.”
“Never. Come find Chaewon with me?”
“I-” Mark sighs, giving in to your pleading eyes. What can he say, he has a self-destructive soft spot for his best friend. “Fine. But only if you get her to play one of the drinking games with me, ‘cause you never want to,” he tsks. You offer him an innocent smile before turning towards the back balcony. Gripping Mark’s arm tightly as the two of you make your way through clusters of people, you glance back every so often to make sure he’s still with you. You don’t want to be left alone again.
Again. Like Jaehyun just did when he said he wanted to spend time with me…
He seems to sense your uneasiness when you pause for a moment to look down, the fluorescent lights that lead to the back glass doors making your eyes sting as your fingers tighten their grip on his wrist.
“Hey hey hey,” the boy pauses to move in front of you with worry creasing his brows. “You good?”
You blink away from him, mumbling an unsure “yeah,” before clearing your throat. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just got dizzy for a sec.”
Mark puts his hands on your shoulders carefully, eyes scanning the way your face looks more apprehensive than usual and your head isn’t held just as high as the Y/N he knows would. He’s had almost his entire life to study your moods and the rises and falls of your expressions, and he knows that something heavy is bothering you to the point where you’re letting him see it bleed through your normal, carefree facade. It’s something serious, and he also knows you’re not gonna tell him until you’re ready.
So for now, he simply smooths down any invisible tensions in your arms and straightens your posture for you like he would in your younger school days, gentle and nimble fingers adjusting the straps of your dress like a parent figure would.
“I like this number on you. You should wear it more often.”
“Thank you,” you smile gratefully at him, forcing your feet to move forward once again. It's not unusual for Mark to compliment you, but it feels particularly comforting tonight after so much of your confidence in yourself has been built up and torn down in a matter of hours.
You don’t let your gaze take in anyone except a potential Chaewon as the two of you finally make it outside, scared of potentially seeing someone you don’t want to see. Out of the corner of your eye, Mark gestures animatedly to the lit up garden, far fewer people mingling in its flowering, winding paths than inside.
“Oh! Chaewon’s right there,” he pushes you lightly in her direction, a poised figure leaning, relaxed, on one of the ivy-slinked marble balconies. “I’m not gonna go far, but I’ll get some drinks from the kitchen for us and be right back, okay? I won’t leave you guys for long.” You’re silent for a moment.
“I’m sorry.”
“Why are you sorry, Y/N? You’ve done nothing wrong, but whoever or whatever’s bothering you should feel ashamed for making you apologize for nothing,” he chastises immediately, indignant towards the fact he has an inkling of who’s made you feel this way. It pains him to see his best friend hurt silently.
You nod before he gives you one last pat and nudges you in the direction of Chaewon. She turns on her heel just as Mark leaves, face lighting up when she spots your form heading in her direction.
“Took you long enough!” She calls out over with a hand reaching out for you, her other occupied by a flute of some mysterious fizzy liquid. “I’ve been waiting so that we can try the colorful shots in Johnny’s fridge together. I know you secretly like those.”
You snap yourself out of your thoughts before managing a grateful smile as she pulls you into a side hug. “Sorry, the uh… drive took longer than anticipated,” you mumble, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.
“Who’d you come with again? I feel so bad that we couldn’t pick you up, but the setup literally took the living energy out of me.”
You bite your lip nervously, eyes flicking to the night sky in reassurance.
“I came with— I came with Jaehyun,” you spit out quietly, already predicting her reaction in your head.
“Damn, for real? I told your brother to call one of your other friends, but this is so much better. Did you guys get time to talk or what?” Chaewon lifts her drink to her lips as she waits with wide eyes, anticipating an answer that you know you can’t give her. If anyone has always rooted for the possibility of him liking you back, it’s her.
“I don’t know,” you finally whisper, giving up as you tug your fingers through your hair. “It’s just… he’s a confusing person. Like yeah, we talked, but I can’t figure him out at all. He goes back and forth from being the closest I’ve ever felt to a boy to an almost distant stranger in a matter of seconds.”
Your friend’s face falls at your words, clearly noting how much you’re beginning to get stressed out over him. It kills her to see anything but a smile on your face, and the fact that it’s because of someone who you’ve pined over for so long is detrimental to watch.
“Y/N…”
“It’s fine. I’m making a big deal out of nothing, probably.” Your voice cracks slightly in the middle of the sentence, but you mask it with a quiet laugh. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a real chance with him to begin with, so try not to expect much.” Chaewon’s bitter smile reflects her inner confliction as she reaches out to take your hand in hers.
“Stop, don’t think like that,” she mutters.
“But don’t worry, there’s still,” you whisper, putting your pointer finger and thumb up to approximate the size of the tiny moon in the sky above you, “a little hope. There’s always been.”
You nod to yourself, almost like a subtle reassurance. You’ve always had faith and confidence in your own feelings, and a little hope has never killed you. If anything, it’s brought you closer to Jaehyun than you’ve ever been, and getting to know him in ways that you were never able to has been a silver lining in itself. Just maybe… deep down, not in the way you know you wish you had.
“I love how you’re always been so sure of what you want,” Chaewon confesses. It’s both a blessing and a curse. “But tonight’s about having fun, okay? No use wasting time on a boy that can’t get his own shit straight.”
With a giggle, she pulls you towards the house once again. “I want to see you get wasted. His name is not allowed as far as I’m concerned.”
“Jaehyun’s name…?”
“Who?”
You shake your head with a smile as she feigns confusion with an innocent expression. I don’t deserve my friends, you think to yourself, heart warming at how much they try to make you feel better.
“Come on, Y/N. Look around at all the people,” she laughs out in the tone of a true socialite as she tugs you towards where most of the partygoers are congregated, littered across every corner with their short dresses and sweaty skin. Noticing that your mouth is still tinged with a hint of apprehensiveness, she stops in her tracks and turns to you. “You’re telling me that you’re gonna let him do this to you? This night is for us, not waiting for a stupid boy that’s had the chance of a decade to love on you, pretty girl.”
She fiddles with your dress and smoothing down its invisible wrinkles as you nod along with her, mind willing itself to focus on yourself and your friends instead of—
Right. He doesn’t exist right now.
“And you look so good right now that anyone would be stupid not to feel lucky for having your attention,” she affirms, shiny hair tumbling under fluorescent lights as she beams at you. You can’t help but wrap your arms around her, the comfort of her mere presence and consoling words making your heart burn.
“Love you, Chae. I think we should just date instead,” you mumble into her shoulder, her signature, bright laughter ringing out at your words.
Her eyes brighten even more when she spots Mark appearing back behind you with entire bottles of liquor in his hands.
“Where the hell did you get those, my god,” she ooh and aah’s at him as your face lights up at the appearance of the boy.
“Johnny’s hidden stash in one of the guest bedrooms. He thinks he’s slick,” he snorts, putting a finger up in a shushing motion when Chaewon gasps dramatically. When you giggle at your best friend’s antics, he turns to look at you with a hint of worry on his face.
You seem to have cheered up a bit since he left you to get drinks, but he also knows how good at hiding your true feelings you are. From poker faces to fake laughs, you’ve got it all under your belt. He just wishes you would just let go sometimes, but it’s understandable when he thinks about you as a person. It’s simply in your nature to be selfless, and ever since the two of you were young, you’ve never been one to bother anyone with your own worries. No wonder he’s worried as you crinkle your eyes in elation at him, a complete 180 from five minutes ago.
Glancing at Chaewon, she nods at him discreetly, seemingly having a conversation with just their eyes. You’re okay now.
Letting out a short breath of relief, Mark loops his arm with yours before pulling you into the lion’s den of a party haven.
“Let’s get fucked up, hmm?”
…
You don’t know how much time has passed as you trudge through the garden with your heels in one hand, Chaewon’s fingers laced with yours in the other.
You’re sure it’s been at least three hours since you arrived. No, two. Maybe four?
To be honest, time isn’t even a concept in your book as you swing your arm with your friend’s, a drunken-dopey smile on your face as you relish the feeling of the dirt and grass against your bare skin.
Maybe you would’ve known when Mark had handed you the first shot, eyes flicking absentmindedly to the mounted clock in Johnny’s spacious living room — but you hadn’t cared enough then to figure out the numbers and read the time properly. In fact, you don’t think you were even thinking about anything except getting a bit of alcohol in your system. Forgetting was the first thing on your mind.
And boy, did everything spiral from there.
You recall vague bits here and there, from getting too close with familiar faces to being handed funky glasses with sparkly liquids. It was all a blur of overdue laughter and shots after shots, and you have to admit, completely letting loose for the first time in a while felt numbing in the most beautiful way.
You remember Mark drunkenly laying his head down in your lap at one point, tapping the hard liquor in your solo cup and mumbling a happy, “water fountain?” up at you. You weren’t seeing double just yet, but you certainly weren’t thinking straight enough either to comprehend his words fully. So, with absolutely no hesitation and a tipsy giggle, you poured the rest of the contents in your cup into his open mouth as carefully as you could (read: not careful at all). He had sat up with a cheeky smile, wiping the surprisingly dark, bloodred liquid from his bottom lip before it dribbled down and stained his skin.
Everything after that moment felt muggy, like a heavy blanket was wrapped around your head and knotted twice around your neck. You suppose that the alcohol added up at some point, pushing you past the point of clarity.
And suddenly now, you’re here. In the grass with Chaewon, doing only God knows what in a freezing night chill with your short dress and absence of a cozy summer jacket. You don’t even know how you got outside in the first place.
The cold air is good for you, however, as you can feel the blurriness start to fade away bit by bit. You’re not stumbling around as much anymore, but your grip on your friend’s hand is as tight as ever as you make your way through pretty flower bushes and onto a stone path.
“Oh no, someone dropped their phone,” Chaewon laments with exaggerated sadness — no doubt the alcohol talking — before leaning down to pick up the shiny device. Dusting it off with her fingers, she traces a frowny face into its glass, causing it to suddenly turn on.
“Jesus,” you squint into its blinding screen, mentally cursing the person who had the brightness turned all the way up and causing tiny white dots to appear in your vision. “What time is it?”
“You have eyes, look yourself,” Chaewon turns her head towards you dramatically, words slightly slurred as she throws you an unimpressed look. “But it’s 2:43 am. I can’t believe we’re still conscious.”
You groan, rubbing lightly at your eye before she’s talking again, swaying slightly as she speaks. Letting your gaze wander, you let yourself linger on the few people either passed out on messy lawn chairs or calling their friends for late night rides. Some are standing around like you and Chae, heads hanging down and clearly not in their best condition. There’s people with their arms thrown over the shoulders of their friends too, providing obvious support for their less coherent counterparts.
A couple half hidden behind the edge of the balcony catches your eye, your muggy mind inwardly gushing at how cute they are. You want a relationship like that. Their figures are hidden by the shadows of the house, but you can still see how the boy holds her forearm with care as he leans against the stones with her, head tilted impossibly close to the girl’s to display his full attention on whatever she’s telling him through her hushed whispers.
“—it’s okay ‘cause we’re sleeping over at Johnny’s tonight anyway. And, he has like a thousand guest bedrooms so we can choose any one of them—”
The couple lean into the wall more, the light repositioning as they shift their bodies closer, obviously very comfortable with each other. The girl moves further into the light, shiny hair catching onto the glow as she turns in place. He chases her movements, following her into the beam of the balcony lights as their faces are lit up under the sudden absence of shade.
You breathe out.
No way.
“—and I’ve always wanted to stay at Johnny’s and experience that rich kid life, you know? I wonder what it’s like to—”
Fuck.
Fuck fuck fuck.
You think that your heartbeat physically stops as you take in the scene before you. Like a thin arrow slicing right through the flesh and tissue of your heart, and it’s violently humbling. Bruising, even.
Stop.
There’s Saemi. And there’s Jeong Jaehyun too in all his glory, looking at her with the stars glittering in his eyes as she tilts her head up towards him.
Your mind goes blank.
“Hey, Y/N, I’ll catch up with you later, okay? Promise.”
That was what, four hours ago?
Ha.
You sober up immediately, like your head has just just been ruthlessly plunged into a bucket of ice cold water. Like God himself is telling you to face the fucking music and come back down to reality. And if you concentrate hard enough, you can even hear your soul shattering, its pieces clattering down and settling at the bottom of your stomach because you actually feel like you might throw up.
I should’ve known, is the phrase that repeats like a mantra in your head, manically getting louder and louder as you blink in pain. Your eyes refuse to leave them for some reason, watching the way his hand comes up to rest on the junction between her neck and shoulder with a delicate touch.
A bitter taste floods your mouth. You feel like you’re playing a one-sided game of push and pull, and it’s worn you out; it’s not disappointment, or even jealousy that fills your body, but fatigue. It’s tiring to let yourself hope, and then get let down time after time and you feel stupid. Disgusted at yourself, even, for attempting to appeal to a boy who had never given you the time of day in the past even though everyone was aware of how blatantly obvious your crush on him was.
You’ve always prided yourself on how true to your own character you are, but in this moment, you feel like a child watching real adults in the real world. Two years' age difference isn’t much in retrospect, but at this moment, Lim Saemi seems like a whole generation above you. Her maturity shines through every part of her — from her gait to the way she dresses to the way she leans into Jaehyun — and you can’t help but let your worst insecurity get to you as they get impossibly closer.
It hurts, because he’s not even mine.
“Y/N, are you listening?”
You don’t answer.
And when the soft plush of his lips come down to place a gentle kiss against her forehead, you decide that you’ve seen enough.
…
Your mouth feels like paper, your head feels like it’s about to split open, and you feel like shit.
Blearily blinking one eye open and then immediately shutting it after getting a glimpse of an unfamiliar ceiling, you groan out loud before stuffing your face into your arm.
Somehow, the little bit of willpower left in you forces your body to get off of the bed you’re on, stumble through the darkness (you think you accidentally trip over a stray body on the ground too), and feel your way to the hallway. Your brain has completely shut off, but you’re also fucking parched and nothing will get in the way of you and water right now.
Your feet miraculously lead you to the empty expanse of Johnny’s kitchen, little sunlight reaching its pristine tiles at such an early hour. Glancing at the red clock numbers on the oven, you blanch when it displays a mocking 6:04am. You’re lucky that your hangovers don’t hit too hard. Pouring yourself a glass of water, you can finally swallow and lean back against the counter in relief as you take a deep breath.
And that’s when it hits you. That’s when everything hits you.
You almost choke on your water as your mind pulls last night from the depths of its sleepiness, from the drinking to the unwanted feelings to the sensation of blacking out. You remember it all.
Taeyong taking a body shot in front of you (scarred). Johnny making out with one of your close school friends in front of you (scarred x2). Mark handing you drink after drink. Chaewon leading you into the garden for fresh air. And… and seeing the boy you like with a girl you thought he had nothing to do with anymore.
Like a floodgate of torturous memories, your mind automatically replays every little interaction without warning as you throw your head back against a cabinet in regret. It’s as if you have no control over what you get reminded of and what you don’t, because of course, the first thing that flashes before you is the feeling you felt when you saw Jeong Jaehyun in the courtyard.
His arm wrapped around the shoulder of Saemi’s as your best friend desperately vied for your attention, the girl finally following your line of sight to eventually see the scene you were watching in chilling silence. And Chaewon had noticed it all, from the way he smiled down at her to the very moment he looked up in your direction.
“Y/N…” she had whispered, the pity clear in her tone. You’d turned your head away quickly, not wanting her to see the tears gathering on your lash-line, but she couldn’t help but notice the way you reached up to wipe them away. Your body had gone into autodrive, quickly moving to the side to get away from the two as fast as you could. Chaewon reached out for you before turning back to glare at Jaehyun, surprised to see him already staring right at you.
He seemed unfairly distraught and guilty in her eyes, his gaze conflicted as his hands fell from Saemi’s face in a flash and hovered in the air in shock. A few seconds later and he snapped out of it, leaving her standing alone and rushing over in your direction, seemingly trying to reach you before you got lost in the mass of people inside the mansion.
As he passed Chaewon’s lingering form, her hand flew out to latch onto his shoulder.
Shaking her head at him — as if saying, you lost your chance ages ago — it was then that she truly felt awful about the inner turmoil her best friend was constantly subjected to when liking a boy like that.
Wincing, you press a cheek to the cold marble countertop of the kitchen as all of your thoughts flitter through your consciousness at once. You wish the dull throbbing in your head would stop, and even thinking about it makes you shift uncomfortably in place, itching to just get outside and clear your mind with fresh air.
Fuck it, you decide, no one’s awake anyway. I need to get away, even if it's only for a few moments.
Pushing your hair out of your face, you finish your water before heading out. There’s an unusual smell of artificial roses as you move through the hallways and descend the grand staircase; it’s eerie to walk in a silent house, all of the hallways dark and stoic. Johnny’s mansion looks like a mini natural disaster with the way decorations and bottles are strewn across its marble floors, almost like savages making use of a castle. It’s like a presentation of physical evidence of what took place last night.
Finally making it outside into the crisp morning air, you relish in the chirping of the songbirds and empty expanse of a dew-tipped garden. Taking a deep breath, you shiver slightly before heading down a small hill behind the garden. You recall there being a lake behind the property that Taeyong and Johnny used to bring you to when you were younger, one with a small dock that retreated far enough into the water that you could be alone without having the urge to constantly look towards the house again.
You don’t expect anyone to be awake — or even outside — this early, but it comes as a surprise when you almost trip over a figure sitting on the bottom-most stone step. Putting a hand to your heart, your eyes widen as they turn to look up at you.
“Oh… hi. I didn’t expect anyone would be awake this early.”
“Yeah, I just needed some fresh air,” you say, nervously playing with the hem of your shirt. “So I’m going down to the dock…”
“Ah. I see… um. You- you wouldn’t mind if I joined you, right?”
…
Life is funny sometimes.
As you swing your legs gently above the light waves, you can’t help but think about the irony of the situation you’re in. You bite your lip before turning to the person next to you, their knees pulled up to their chest as they stare out into the water.
“Saemi…”
The girl turns to you, a hesitant smile on her face as she reaches out for your hand.
Lim Saemi takes your fingers between hers before letting out a deep sigh, the talkative persona she normally holds, gone, as she looks between each of your eyes. The hesitance between the two of you is awkward in a way. You’ve never had a full conversation with her and you’ve always assumed things about her based off of others’ recountings, but she couldn’t be more different now.
The little imaginary devil on your shoulder shakes her pitchfork at you, as if saying, “you should be hating her, remember?”
You look down to hide your slight frown.
“I think we have a lot to talk about,” she starts, voice tentative and slow as she purses her lips in contemplation. You still. Nodding your head, you let her move closer to you on the wooden planks of the dock before she makes eye contact with you again.
“You know, sometimes it scares me how alike you and Taeyong look. It’s like staring into a mirror image, and I feel like I see memories in you that I associate with your brother.”
You cock your head at her words. “...we’re pretty similar people too, I think,” you whisper back, an automatic smile reaching your face as your mind finds its own way to him.
“I think so too,” she grins. “Actually, Taeyong and I have been friends for a long time, and he’s always speaked of you so fondly that I couldn’t help but anticipate meeting you. I would see glimpses of you here and there, and he would constantly mention his baby sister and how much he worried about her. He was the best older brother, and anyone could see it.” She pauses, taking in a deep breath. “Yet he treats his friends the very same way, with the same adoration and care. It doesn’t matter how much Taeyong will grow in the future with his escalating popularity and growing talent in music, he’ll always have the kindest soul in my eyes. I’m genuinely so thankful for him, Y/N.”
To hear someone speak about your brother like that triggers an emotion in you that you didn’t even know you had, gaze curious as you wait for her to continue.
“I don’t really know how to start this conversation to be honest, but- I bet you know how hard high school is.” You nod, grimacing at all of the particular more negative memories you have. “You’re balancing on that fine line between feeling too adult to be in school and feeling too childish to live your own life yet, and I, for one, most definitely didn’t know how to deal with such a sudden change in my social and academic surroundings. I think I changed physically a lot then, too. My face, my body, everything. I started morphing into someone that I couldn’t recognize in the mirror, and I came to the realization that boys liked me first for my appearance, not my personality. And… and you know what I regret the most? I learned how to use my body as a weapon.”
“I learned how to change the way I talk, how to talk to boys so that I could get them to do what I want, and suddenly, everything changed even faster. People flocked to me, which is what I had always secretly wanted, but the person that they wanted wasn’t me. I had flown a bit too close to the sun and now I was stuck with this facade that I couldn’t get rid of. It was never just ‘Saemi,’ I was always simply the object of their desires, something to be acquired. And I had brought it upon myself.”
Recalling the Saemi you knew and recognized in high school, you have a bit more of an understanding of her now. She held up a front in order to protect herself, and as a result, she lost touch with her own self. Your heart hurts for her as you hesitate to reach out and offer comfort.
“Your brother was the first one who understood me right away. We met in detention during our second to last year, and he saw right through me in the first ten minutes. Sat me down in the teacher’s empty chair and told me that I was a bitch for breaking one of his friend’s hearts.” She closes her eyes as she recalls that very afternoon. “Taeyong gave it to me plain and straight that day: I shouldn’t have promised false love to so many boys if I wasn’t planning to give it in the first place. Your brother may have been a player too, but the boundaries he always set with his girls made him a thousand times better than I was.”
You place your hand on hers, Saemi giving you a grateful smile in return.
“I thought hard about myself and my decisions after that, and I decided that if I wanted to enjoy the last years of my secondary schooling, I needed to take back control of my own actions. After I apologized to his friend, he offered me genuine friendship in the weeks following, one without the jealousy and lust that I was always caught up in before. I had always been surrounded with so much toxicity, and he was able to pull me out of it so easily that I finally felt seen for the first time.”
She pauses, glancing at you briefly before staring up at the sky.
“That was also… the first time I met Jaehyun.”
You shift, staring down at your shoe laces as they sway lightly with the wind.
Ah, you smile sadly to yourself. We’ve gotten to this part of the story.
“Your brother brought me along with him one day to one of his parties, and I had truly never been enamored with a boy that quickly before.”
You can tell that Saemi’s choosing her words carefully with you, and they hit a lot harder when you relate to what she’s saying. You’re certainly no stranger to his charm.
“We started talking that night and Jaehyun had somehow broken down all of the walls I had carefully built up within the first month of knowing each other. It was new for me. My personal mantra had always followed the lines of, ‘if they like what they see and feel, I might as well use it to my advantage.’ But it was different with him. I didn’t want us to be a one time thing, and I certainly did not want him to think of me as something who couldn’t do that kind of serious relationship shit. I wanted him to like me so badly without thinking about if I had genuine feelings towards him in the first place.”
She takes another deep breath, as if she’s collecting her thoughts, before leaning forward with an airy laugh and sadness clear in her eyes.
“Have you ever mistaken love for dependency, Y/N?”
Have you?
You think back to all the people you’ve liked throughout your teenage years, ranging from hallway crushes to… well- Jaehyun. Your pupils dart to the water as you think about the idea of depending on a person. Do I depend on the people I like, or do I know when to distance myself?
You shake your head.
“Jaehyun and I… we jumped into everything too quickly. It wasn’t even a right person, wrong time situation; we simply weren’t ready. We tried putting our all into this lone spark that we felt without stepping back and really looking at our relationship.” She stops to observe the rising sun above the lake, its golden reflection casting a healthy glow on her skin. Saemi’s beautiful like this, her feelings bare and raw before you as she lays out her emotions so vulnerably.
“I guess I never really loved Jaehyun in the way he loved me. He was looking for something tender and real, and younger me was not in the capacity to give that to him. I tried to convince myself every single fucking day that I liked him in that way, but even I knew deep down that my I would never convince myself. I still had this lingering, detrimental mentality of seeing boys as something I could win over, and my fascination with him intertwined with that in ugly ways.”
Saemi’s face falls a little before she takes both of your hands in hers, eyes sincere as she peers at you.
“The reason I’m telling you all this is because… I saw you,” she whispers carefully, watching your reaction. “Last night. When Jaehyun and I were together in the garden… I saw you watching before you walked away.”
Your heart drops as you look down at her hands holding yours so carefully, her pretty fingers encompassing your wrist as you unwillingly recall the worst emotions you had felt in a while.
She saw.
You only manage to get out a small, “oh,” before she squeezes your hand reassuringly.
“Hey hey hey, look at me,” she leans down slightly to put herself at eye level with you. The edges of her lips quirk up in the slightest, her hair falling elegantly against her face as the wind picks it up and puts it back down again. “I don’t want you to misunderstand. Why? Because all those years ago, Jaehyun misunderstood, and I misunderstood, and it was all of these assumptions and forced feelings that drove our relationship to its grave. We were shit at communicating with each other properly, and that eventually hurt both of us too deeply to heal the right way.”
You nod at her hesitantly, taking in what she’s saying with a newfound understanding. Saemi sighs before smiling again at you.
“I’ve hurt a lot of people in the past,” she says, forlorn, her eyes crinkled as she sniffs in the cold of the morning. “And I never got the chance to apologize to them properly. But last night, I finally worked up the confidence to revisit our high school days with Jaehyun.” She stops, leaning back onto the dock with her hands behind her. Her eyes close as she soaks in the morning sun, and you can’t help but mirror the position as your heart warms for her. “We finally got our much needed closure last night, and I was feeling a bit down afterwards so he was simply comforting me. And I won’t weigh you down with all the nitty gritty details, but we were able to see our ending all the way through without letting our emotions get in the way.”
You can’t help but reach out and hug the girl, your arms wrapping comfortably around her shoulders to express your awe and gratitude. With a little noise of surprise, Saemi pauses for a few seconds before embracing you back. Everything makes more sense now, and you can’t help but feel a little ashamed for jumping to conclusions so easily.
“I’m so grateful that you shared all that with me,” you mumble into her shirt, her chuckle ringing out into the lake as she rubs your back like an older sister would.
“Of course. If anyone deserved to hear all of this, it would be you.”
“Why?”
Saemi snorts, pulling back from your hug before lifting an eyebrow at you.
“Oh please, Y/N, you should see Jaehyun from everyone else’s eyes. We can all see the way he looks at you.” Your mouth drops open slightly, tilting your head in confusion.
“He looks at me a certain way?”
“God, I have never met two more stupid people in my lifetime,” she groans, bringing her fingers up to her temple. “And I say this lovingly, of course.”
With a fond look on her face, she nudges your shoulder. “But I’m really glad Jaehyun has someone like you.”
You bashfully look down at the water, a rosy blush creeping up your cheeks at her words. You were never 100% sure of where you stood with him, but that familiar feeling of hope has started to creep up once again. Could I go through that again, though? That same push and pull?
Seeming to sense your sudden aversion, Saemi loops her arm through yours in one smooth motion and sets your hand in her lap.
“Hey. Promise me you’ll go talk to him?”
You hesitate to reply, mouth dry as you think about everything she’s poured out to you. You think about your own feelings, and you think about the possibility of having something more with Jaehyun. You think about his history with Saemi, and how this issue of communication has ruined your confidence so many times. But what is it all worth if you don’t try?
With a slow nod, you offer her a reassuring smile before dusting off your clothes and standing up. “Promise.”
Saemi grins at you.
“That’s my girl.”
“Jaehyun?” she asks, putting a hand out on his arm as he looks behind her, distressed. She’s never seen him like this, a nervous jitter in his hands as his eyes dart around at the scene behind them.
Turning around, she just manages to catch a glimpse of a girl rushing towards the back of the house, her head downturned but not masking the obvious face of discomfort in her features. Her friend turns around to glare at them before following close after.
“Fuck,” he breathes out, chewing on his lip as he hesitates to run after your escaping form. “I fucked up so bad, Saemi.” Running a hand through his hair in frustration, he lets out a noise of exasperation as he watches you get farther and farther away.
“What?”
“She’s leaving, Saemi. What do I do, what do I do,” he mumbles under his breath. “I just know she’s gonna think I hurt her on purpose. I always fuck it up somehow.”
“Woah, let’s breathe first,” she holds him steady at the shoulders, grip strong as she turns his body to face hers. “Breathe slowly.”
After a few panicked breaths, he looks back at her and attempts to inhale at a slower pace. A few seconds pass and he’s calmed down already, but a worried crease still flits across his features nonetheless.
“Listen to me, Jaehyun. Don’t leave her in the dark.”
His body loses tension bit by bit as he nods back a little, a heavy look in his eyes.
“We both know how that feels, better than anyone.”
…
Twenty-three missed calls.
That’s how many you’ve accumulated over one day.
You do the math on your bedroom ceiling as you lay splayed out on the mattress like a starfish. Each glow-in-the-dark, plastic star represents a missed call, and they swim across your vision as you point up at them with your hand to count them.
There’s seven from Mark, another seven from Chaewon, four from Taeyong, one from Johnny, and the remaining four? Mentally moving the glowing stars across the solar system of the ceiling, you pick four of the brightest glowing stars before keeping them hidden in a little group at the corner of your eye.
4 missed calls from Jeong Jaehyun, your phone reads from beside you on the mattress, the screen habitually lighting up throughout the day.
Your hand itches to grab it and just call him like you so desperately want to, but you exercise self-restraint as you roll over and stuff your face into your pillow. It’s unfairly hot tonight — the sticky, humid type — and being surrounded by all of your fluffy blankets and pillows does nothing to help your condition, but you don’t want to move out of your room. Letting out a muffled scream into the fabric, you groan to yourself when you realize that all of the problems floating around in your head won’t just magically disappear.
A normal Sunday would have gone like this: waking up mid afternoon with an abnormally large appetite, eating the entire contents of your kitchen to your heart’s content, and then going back to bed. Unfortunately, today was a bit different.
For the entire day, you’ve been busy. Busy thinking.
You had quickly left Johnny’s estate after your talk with Saemi early in the morning, borrowing one of Johnny’s cars from his garage and leaving him a little note that you’d return it soon (to be honest, you doubt that he’ll even notice). You’ve been in your room ever since.
With your eyes trained out the window, your record player ran through entire sets of albums as you lay on your bed in contemplation for the entirety of the afternoon. The fan in your room barely kept you cool as it picked up the fabric of your sundress every few minutes, marking another block of time that had gone by without you getting up and doing something about your position.
You let out a humph before throwing an arm over your eyes and retreating back into deep thought.
I’ve been distancing myself from him the entire day, and that’s the opposite of what I want to do, right? I’m turning into exactly what Saemi warned me not to.
Biting your lip, you turn your body over to stare at your motionless phone. But what should I do?
In a single impulsive movement, you reach out to grab the device before you can change your mind. Your fingers lead you to your contacts before your brain can catch up.
You can’t even fully register what you’ve just done, but Jaehyun’s name flashing across your screen certainly makes it all very much real, your phone waiting for him to pick up on the other side of the line. Your face gets hotter and hotter as the seconds tick on, the beeping of a no-caller reply heightening your nerves.
Finally, with a little click from your hand, he picks up. Your eyes widen. You really didn’t really think this through; now you had to actually talk to him.
“Hey,” Jaehyun sounds out, his voice breathless. “I- are you okay?”
“Yeah.” At least I think I am, you add on to yourself, grimacing. “Um… are you free today?”
“Am- am I free today? Yes! I mean yes, yes I’m free today.”
You can’t help but smile at the way he trips over his words a bit, his nervousness bleeding over your speaker.
“Well then, rooftop at mine at 10?”
“For real?” Jaehyun exclaims, checking the time on his alarm clock. That’s in twenty minutes. “Wait, I’ll be there. I promise.”
And with that, the two of you hang up with a million unspoken words and unfinished sentences. You let out the breath you were holding in, because you genuinely thought you would pass out when you heard Jaehyun’s voice again after finding out all that you did. Throwing yourself against your bed, you let yourself indulge in your feeling of hope again.
“He’ll be here,” you sigh in happiness to yourself. You relax into your pillows before springing up immediately, a look of horror taking over your face. “Oh my god, he’ll be here.”
Rushing around your room with a newfound energy, you make sure you don’t look like you just rolled out of bed (although you technically did just roll out of bed, but he doesn’t have to know that) before unlatching the window of your bedroom and carefully climbing out onto your roof.
It’s well past dusk now, and the sky is abnormally clear with not a single cloud in sight. The moon shines brilliantly in its place as it casts an eerie glow on the panels you’re sitting on, their bumpy texture making it seem like the material is constantly shifting.
You let yourself go for a moment, resting your head in the palms of your heads before staring out at the roofs of your city. They create a complex, urban terrain: a mix of timely balconies and rooftop gardens, orange lanterns and fairy lights alike.
The beeping of a car horn brings you out of your daze. Peering down into the street below you, a familiar, classy black car is visible through all of the telephone lines.
Okay Y/N, deep breaths.
Jaehyun gets out of the front seat, immediately looking up in hopes of catching a glimpse of you before you notice he’s there. However, when his eyes follow the length of your house up, he finds that you’re already staring at him with an unreadable expression.
He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this nervous in his life. With cold hands, he lifts himself onto the electrical box beside your house before climbing up onto the slope of the roof, climbing over to you with an uneasy smile on his face.
“Hey.”
You tuck your chin into your arms, leaning forward to look at him curiously. “You could’ve taken the window, you know, but that works too.”
“What’s life without any risks, hm?”
As he settles himself, you can’t help but think that there’s a double lining to his words. “That’s the most Jaehyun-esque thing I’ve ever heard.”
His laugh warms your heart in a way you didn't know it could.
The first few moments are quiet, just two pairs of eyes looking up at the stars before Jaehyun breaks the silence with a small cough.
“We got lucky, there’s no clouds tonight. Pure stars.” You look over in his general direction, his gaze not even directed towards the sky anymore.
He pauses, so you turn and happen to meet eyes at the same time. Both of you open your mouths to talk, prompted by the invisible tension between you.
“Let me just say that—“
“I just wanted to tell you—“ he starts at the same time you do, eyes widening when you both go quiet once again. “You go first.” Giving him a grateful smile, you think a bit about how to express yourself before twisting your body completely so that you’re facing him.
“I just wanted to apologize first,” you start, holding up a hand when Jaehyun starts to protest. “Wait. I really want to tell you this before I get too nervous to.”
“I know everyone was worried when I went kinda off the grid this morning, but I needed some time alone with my thoughts. I shouldn't have ignored you like that, especially when things seemed so off between us. This is really hard to say to your face but,” you glance away from him as he waits patiently for you, “I always feel this rush of different emotions whenever I’m around you. And sometimes it’s confusing, but other times—“ stopping to exhale, you notice Jaehyun’s grin from the corner of your eye.
“Hey, why are you laughing? I’m trying to be serious right now,” you whine. He simply puts his hand up to his mouth to hide the elated expression on his face.
“You’re just too cute, that’s all,” he replies adoringly, his eyes creasing behind his hand.
“I can’t take this,” you mutter in embarrassment, stuffing your face into your arm to hide the blush of your cheeks. “See! Stuff like that. You make me experience, like, thirty different emotions at once.”
He simply giggles at you, throwing out a little “my bad,” but he doesn’t sound very sorry at all. You nudge him in the arm.
“Sorry sorry, Y/N. Wait, I’ll be serious now.”
Both of you taking deep breaths, you put your hand up to your heart to calm its erratic beating as Jaehyun composes his expression back to normal.
“I really wanted to apologize too.”
You glance at him in surprise as the words leave his mouth, sincere and heavy.
“I’ve been pretty shitty to you, and I recognize how confusing it must have been for you to watch me constantly go back and forth between different personas. Honestly, being back home forced me to face the people here, and suddenly I was thrown into this internal conflict between my high school life and my present self. That’s still no excuse for how many mixed signals I gave you these past few months, but I want you to know that it was never my intention to hurt you.”
Reaching out to brush a small leaf off your shoulder, his hand trails down your arm until he’s taken your hand in his. You can tell how much he means it by the way he’s looking at you — like you hold the entire galaxy in your eyes. You think that you finally see a replication of how you look at him yourself; after all, it’s being reflected back to you right now.
“Y/N?”
“Yeah?”
“I hope you can tell, but I really like you,” he whispers, bringing your hand up to his chest. He wants you to feel how much his nerves are racing just as fast as yours.
You think that your heart just about stops. You’ve dreamt of this moment since you were younger, and now that it’s finally coming to life, it’s unreal to think that he feels the same.
“I think you know how I feel,” you reply back quietly, looking down at your hands entwined with his.
“Say it?” he asks with a pleading face, the corners of his lips quirking up when you roll your eyes.
“Jeong Jaehyun, do you really think I believe that you didn’t know that I’ve liked you ever since we were kids?” Shaking his head innocently at your suspicion, he pouts in a manner that’s very unlike him.
“Fine,” you give up, unable to hide the smile creeping up on your face. “I like you Jaehyun, I like you so much that you don’t even know how happy I am right now.”
“Oh, I know. Come here,” he scoots over before tapping the side of his shoulder with his finger. Not getting the memo, you tilt your head inquisitively before he reaches over himself and puts your head on his shoulder himself. If your heart was skipping beats before, it’s probably failing to beat at all now.
“I want you to trust me,” he murmurs under his breath, his grip tightening on your hand. “I know I don’t have the best track record right now, but I’ll prove to you how much I like you.”
You furrow your brows in confusion. “You don’t have to prove anything…“ You wholeheartedly believe and trust in his feelings, but with the way he’s looking at you right now, you decide to humor him and raise an eyebrow prompting him to go on.
“Wait, you’ll do anything?” You ask, looking up at the stars to hide your telling grin.
“Anything. Even suffer through another one of those awful DiCaprio movies.”
“Suffer?” you exclaim, your head lifting off of his shoulder with his words.
“Shit- no no not suffer. Who said suffer? You must’ve misheard me, I most definitely said enjoy.”
“You’re on thin ice, Jeong.”
He snorts at your threatening expression, an arm snaking behind you to wrap around your waist protectively.
Turning his head to look down at you, you’re met with his nose almost touching yours. You can see every eyelash, every freckle adorning his skin as neither of you make the motion to move away.
Jaehyun loses his breath at the sight of you so close. He keeps his teasing eyes on yours before taking that extra step forward to bump your noses together. Glancing down at your lips, he steadies himself so that his voice can sound as confident as he envisions it in his head.
“Can I kiss you?”
“Please, Jaehyun.”
With your consent, he pulls you forward by the waist before slotting your lips together carefully. You’re not sure if it’s the pressure at which he’s holding you, or the fact that you’ve waited for this moment for almost your entire youth, but kissing Jaehyun is glorious.
He moves a hand up to cup the back of your neck before pushing forward impossibly closer, tucking your hair behind your ear in one smooth motion as his mouth moves in tandem with yours.
You make a noise of surprise when he takes your bottom lip between his teeth, giving you a little nip before licking over the skin carefully. The passion and lust that seeps through his tongue is made clear as the minutes pass, and your reactions only spur him on.
Th mix of his skin on yours burning its way across your body and the delicacy at which he touches you makes your heart alight for a completely different reason. Threading your fingers through his hair, you're delighted to find that that particular motion makes him shudder under your hands, and kiss you more like his life depends on it.
After a while of marking each other's skin and exchanging sweet nothings between his kisses, you tap his chest to pull apart for air, your breathless mien making him grin smugly.
“I’m that good, huh?”
“Shut up, Jaehyun.”
…
The rings on your fingers clink with his as you hand him a metal camping cup, its silver surface hot to the touch even at night. Glancing up at Jaehyun, you laugh when you catch his skeptical expression.
“The hell is this…” he asks in borderline horror as the liquid in his cup sloshes around.
“Mark’s gonna love hearing that,” you remark, putting your own cup to your lips as you bring your knees to your chest.
It’s the most comfortable when you’re with Jaehyun like this, sitting on the hood of his car in the dead of the night to stargaze into the early hours of the morning.
It’s been a few weeks since that night on the rooftop, and you’ve never felt more alive. From long drives with Taeyong to mini adventures with Mark, and from jukebox diners with Chaewon and constellation hunting with Jaehyun, you finally feel at home in a place you’re about to leave. University is close on the horizon, but that doesn’t mean you can’t spend your last free evenings with the people you love the most.
“Is this your recipe?” Jaehyun asks, pulling up your legs so that they rest over his lap. You shake your head with a cheeky smile.
“Stole it,” you whisper, scrunching your nose at the distinct smell.
“And what did Mark’s creative ass come up with this time,” he laments back, taking your cup to compare it with his in confusion.
“Our cups hold the same exact thing, Jaehyun. I didn’t secretly poison your drink if that’s what you’re thinking, and I know you are.” You take back your cup before taking another sip and taking a little piece of paper out of your pocket to read from. “But anyway, it's ‘orange liquor, orange juice, lime juice, maple syrup, sliced jalapeño, and agave blanco sugar in the rim.’ You can steal the recipe too, but don't tell him that I gave it to you. He’d murder me.”
“Mm,” he muses, nuzzling into your neck. “I wouldn’t want my girlfriend dead.”
You freeze in mid-air, mind turning the title over and over again in your head. “Girlfriend?”
Jaehyun sits up immediately, looking at you with the most mortified expression on his face. “Fuck, I never asked you to be my girlfriend, did I?”
With a small giggle at his antics, you simply lean against him and pat his arm in consolation. “It’s okay, I don’t need a label to know how you feel about me.” Jaehyun hums contently before suddenly wrapping his arms around you, your delighted shriek ringing out as he pulls you down with him and falls back against the metal roof of the car.
“Can we just stay like this forever?”
You sigh in satisfaction as your body follows the rises and falls of his chest. The stars above seem to blink happily at the two of you as they make their way across the sky, the little, twinkling lights of overpassing planes highlighting their presence.
Intertwining your fingers with his, he gently kisses the side of your face before closing his eyes.
Even if the two of you hadn’t realized it yet, it had always been like this: two childish souls crafting the idea of mature love. Two blooming young adults, with fizzing feelings and cherry picked lips, daring to love one another like the grownups in black and white colored movies.
Your summers are defined by sticky ‘n sweet cherry cola, rides around the abandoned carousel with your friends, and “borrowing” quarters out of your brother’s Cadillac to insert into the jukebox of the local diner. They’re tinged with the taste of Mark’s special drinks and Chaewon’s sweet words, with Taeyong’s cheery voice ringing out throughout your house and your parents’ weekly sitcom reruns. And most of all, summers are made of Jaehyun’s lavender cologne and the way he holds you close when you need it the most.
“Don’t be surprised if the moon calls you by name, Y/N, because I tell her about you all the time.”
…
<3 you can find their character profiles HERE.
[ for Y/N, mark, chaewon, jaehyun, taeyong, and saemi ]
…
xoxo
2023 © kiachiako | all rights reserved.
#jaehyun#jeong jaehyun#jung jaehyun#jaehyun x reader#jaehyun fics#jaehyun fic#jaehyun fic recs#nct 127#nct#nct u#nct fic recs#nct imagines#nct au#nct 127 angst#nct imagine#nct 127 fic#jaehyun imagines#jaehyun au#jaehyun drabbles#jaehyun nct#nct angst#jaehyun angst#jaehyun fluff#brothers best friend#kpop au#nct aus#nct 127 imagines
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Bloodlines
Pairing: Toji x f!reader
Summary: The new acquisition of the clan refuses to obey.
CW: Misogyny, smut (no explicit), discrimination, mention of abortion, Zenin clan is a warning
Author's note: in this house we hate clan Zenin
The new acquisition of the Zenin clan was a pathetic girl of the same age, the daughter of a family who wanted to climb the social ladder, sold and bought at an exorbitant price to eventually become the honorable wife of someone in the near future.
At first glance, she didn't seem grotesque nor remarkable; she was just a girl whose spirit would be crushed by the clan to serve someone of higher rank, as everything here was based on power and traditions, centuries of history that remained untouched even in the modern world.
Everyone played a role; his was to be tormented by his relatives, and yours would be to be the wife and mother of someone, but for now, you would be trained to perfectly fulfill your role. If you were lucky, your children would be sorcerers, and if not, they would be a disgrace and would cost your husband his honor.
Toji focused a lot on you, on the clothes you wore, on your activities, on your drawings, and on how you sneaked into the gardens to cry; despite the status granted to you, Toji still thought of you as just an object; but a beautiful and important object placed on the top shelf.
He watched you come and go with the lady of the house, the first or second or third wife of the leader; he had lost count of how many there had been, but that wasn't important. What mattered was seeing you learn to be a Zenin.
You learned to give orders and mistreat people beneath you, to slap them when they looked at you or spoke when they shouldn't. He had even received a couple of slaps himself and was proud of you for getting used to it so quickly; it almost seemed like you were born into the clan.
In the future, you would be just like them, casting children into the pit of curses and raising your own to torment people like him; however, tonight, it didn't matter what you would become in the future; in the present, you were nothing more than his. In a secluded spot in the garden, in the moonlight with your dress half open as he fucked you mercilessly it was just you and him, here the Zenin clan didn't matter.
Toji watched as you writhed and cried out in pleasure, clutching your legs to his hips and your arms around his neck, he listened to you praise him about how perfect he was for you and how much you loved him. Maybe you pitied him, showed affection as to a stray puppy, or simply saw him as your boy toy. But no, the way you looked at him didn't allow him to doubt you, nor did the devotion you showed him; you risked your life every time you were alone together.
"What are you thinking about? You seem distant," you traced the scar on his lip.
"About us." Toji thought a lot about that, about you two. "The clan won't let us be together; they won't allow your technique and your cursed energy to be tainted by someone like me."
"I don't want to think about that." You pulled him in for a kiss. "I want to enjoy this night with you." Toji stopped just inches from your lips.
"So am I just that? A casual night of passion?" Perhaps his doubts were correct.
"No, you're more than that. But I don't want to think about the clan." Your voice faltered slightly, and a tear escaped.
"I want to be with you." It might sound like a silly lovestruck teenager, but he couldn't deny it; he was in love, and for the first time in his life, he was determined that it was time to leave the clan.
"Do you want to run away with me?" You had read his thoughts; you desired the same thing as him, freedom.
It sounded somewhat fantastical that they would do that; the clan wouldn't let you go, and if they did, life outside would be a complete hell.
"I'm getting married in a few days, I still don't know to whom," you confessed the truth you had been hiding all night, the reason you were determined not to mention the clan; the mere idea of not being with Toji made you miserable.
"We might die," you looked at him with teary eyes. "Maybe we'll have to kill." You hugged him, burying your face in his chest.
"I'd rather die than be without you." His heart started beating rapidly with your declaration; you mattered to him more than his own life. "I should go," you pulled away from the hug and began to walk alone through the garden.
Toji watched you take care of your duties; after all, in a few days, you would officially be a Zenin, and you would have to carry everything that entailed.
He called in a couple of favors just to bring you tea which you ignored just to have him under you, you moved your hips up and down trying to take his entire length inside you, you were always discreet, never in broad daylight and least of all in your room, if anyone saw them you would be punished; but neither seemed to care so absorbed in your own pleasure, you didn't notice the concubine who witnessed your indiscretion.
The elder man held the katana close to Toji's neck, while the other man reprimanded her for her actions. You had your face buried in the tatami in a submissive manner, apologizing repeatedly and even pleading for his life.
"He must leave, and she must die," your voice was cold. "No one will know what happened in that room." The other woman didn't even have time to scream; her body fell lifeless before even opening the door.
"Thank you for remembering your worth," one of the elders smiled at seeing the use of the cursed technique for which she was bought.
"You should go, live your life, be happy for both of us, marry, have children, get away from this world." You didn't want to look him in the eye; he knew you were crying, your voice choked up. When he left the clan, he thought you would accompany him, not that you would have this bitter farewell where you didn't even want to see him in the eyes.
"Are you here to kill me?" He had many jobs, and in none of them had he cared about the other person's life; but today was different—the special assignment was you.
"Something like that." The Zenin clan had grown tired of you, of not being able to carry a potential heir to term. You were a healthy woman who couldn't conceive, and they weren't going to tolerate your insubordination.
"It will be a pleasure to die by the hand of the man I once loved."
"That man is gone; he died in the garden where you abandoned me."
"You're a bit resentful, Fushiguro." It didn't surprise him that you knew his last name; the clan always kept tabs.
"I'm not here to socialize." He adjusted the sword.
"I was distracted, defenseless; you could have killed me and left without looking back, leaving my body in this wretched room and collecting the money from the intermediary."
"You're never vulnerable; I should hurry, the babysitter charges by the hour."
"How is Megumi? My condolences for his mother; I admit, I'm a bit envious—she lived with you everything I desired." You had become talkative.
"You could have done it, but you chose to stay."
"I did it for you; I wanted you to live the life you deserved, and yet here you are, a mercenary killing sorcerers."
"Enough." The sword's blade hovered inches from your neck.
"Kill me, I don't want to go back anymore; I'm tired of keeping my head down and walking three steps behind my husband." You moved calmly toward him.
"They want you back, dead or alive" you were so close to him; you caressed his chest and tiptoed to give him a kiss.
"I missed you." The sword fell with a metallic sound; his arms enveloped you, and both of you sank into the desperate passion that both felt for each other.
That passion that led you to be naked on the bed, you enjoying his thick cock and lustful kisses, the wet sound of skin against skin slapping and his hot seed spilling inside your body, securing another possible heir for the Zenin clan.
Toji was so proud, you were somewhat machiavellian organizing a whole plan at the cost of your own life just to have him, to have him fuck you as only he knew how and he was proud to be able to prove to the Zenin that he was always better.
He would have a great legacy, he would have the honor of putting them to shame, of everyone seeing how the children of a nobody like him became better and stronger, that everything the clan valued came from him.
#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen smut#toji fushiguro#jjk smut#jjk x reader#jjk toji#toji x reader#toji smut#toji x you#toji fushigro x reader
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