#that he would only worry about her for 10 minutes a day | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

zreamy · 5 months

Text

i'll love you forever

pairing: park sunghoon x fem!reader

summary: you were sunghoon's first everything; first friend, first love, and first heartbreak. after years of quietly crushing on you, he was finally ready to confess. so ready to confess, that he told his parents the two of you were already dating! it was an easy enough lie to keep up and he kept it up for months, what could possibly go wrong? he thought. little did he know, you would have a falling out and stop talking for months.. and then, you'd both get invited to spend a week at home with his parents, who still believe you're his girlfriend.

genre: smut, fluff, angst, college au, childhood best friends to lovers, fake dating

warnings: minors dni, fake dating is pretty mild (sorry), she kinda doesn’t rate him at the start, these two kind of exist in a vacuum a little bit idk i had a self-enforced word count to stick to and broke it.. (im within the 10% allowance !), sunghoon in a vest, sunghoon arms, sunghoon

word count: 21,858

playlist: click here.. (for my non-spotify babes, the main song is light by wave to earth (which for some reason i put last.. whatever))

author's note: for silly @asahicore. happy birthday pooks i hope it's amazing and that u enjoy reading this when u have the time !!! LOL (lots of love) also im never writing without telling you things again this was so absurd.

to everyone else.. ok happy reading also emma did not beta read this so im sure it's missing its charm .. anyway it's for emma not you 😭 anyway i hope u enjoy regardless and lmk ur thoughts! omg this is the first fic im nervous about posting.......... please enjoy or else.

In the three years since Park Sunghoon moved away for university, he’d been doing a pretty good job of going home to see his parents. They’d welcome their baby back to the nest with open arms and wide grins. With a rehearsed level of indifference, his younger sister, Yeji, would say, “Oh, I didn’t know you were coming home this weekend.” when she saw him at the dinner table. Sunghoon pretended to only be marginally hurt by this.

In the last three months, he hasn’t so much as sent a text to his parents.

Or to you.

Ignoring texts from his mother is devastating. Between classes, he watches as, “Hi, sweetie, I love you 😍,” turns into, “Missing you, honey, know you must be busy but spare some time for your old mummy, no?” which turns into, “Getting really worried now, are you doing okay? Has something happened with YN? Talk to me, I love you, my baby boy!”

Ignoring texts from you is easy because texts from you never come.

Sitting at the end of his bed, Sunghoon rereads a text his mother sent a few minutes ago: Please talk to me, son. Really worried and YN isn’t answering calls either. What’s going on with you two?

When he leaves his room, he finds Jake lying on the couch, and with his keys in hand, Sunghoon says, “I’m going home.”

And the drive is great! At least, he tells his mum it is. In truth, the drive home without you was nearly impossible. Your ever-expanding home time playlist buzzed through the speakers in his car, but without you there to screech along to the songs, it wasn’t the same. He felt your absence the most when he stopped to get petrol and you weren’t there behind him struggling to carry enough snacks to feed a small family without offering to pay.

The look of worry on his mum’s face stirs a pit in his stomach. “Why are you so quiet these days? God, you look so tired,” she says, frowning. “Is it school? Or something with YN? It’s not like her not to text back.” Her brows crease as she whispers the word unless. She pulls him into a hug, her chin resting perfectly on his shoulder, and her comforting hand strokes the hair on the back of his head. “Breakups are never easy, honey. I’m so sorry, I know how much you love her.”

Breakups are never easy. The sentence hangs heavy over his head.

Whether she knows it or not, she’s handed him a get-out-of-jail-free card, the opportunity to set things straight, to end this mess once and for all. No further questions, and most importantly, no more lies.

For the first time since he left your flat three months ago, Sunghoon lets himself cry. He’d imagined this moment countless times, his first cry since you ended things. In his mind, it was always intense. Today, as it happens, only a few salty tears leak from his eyes, spilling onto the cuff of his sleeve, darkening the blue cotton in tiny indigo splotches.

“We didn’t break up,” he says in a small voice—for some reason. “I’m just having a hard time.” Neither statement is technically untrue, but the words taste rotten in his mouth.

The tightening grip of his mum’s arms around his body is what brings on the harsh, shoulder-racking sobs he’d been anticipating. For a while, they stand like this, Sunghoon weeping into his mum’s cardigan until she sends him upstairs to lie down, promising a cup of tea that never comes.

His childhood bedroom is chilly, so he changes into clothes he left behind and climbs into bed, pulling his duvet up to his chin. He turns his head to look at the walls and the room around him, everything is exactly where he left it in the summer. It should be comforting, but it’s weird to be home without you.

There are photos of you and him everywhere, growing up and around each other through different stages of life. The two of you together during the summer your family moved in next door, you wore glasses back then and were the first friend he’d made in his life. Sunbathing and sharing earphones at the beach, listening to music together on your iPod classic. Sunghoon in thick glasses with a stiff smile and your arm around him on the first day of high school. Wide grins at the start of this summer, the last time things were okay between you.

Overwhelmed, he stares up at the ceiling, only realising he’s crying when a hot tear slips from his eyes to tickle his ear. Because Sunghoon likes to upset himself, he screws his eyes shut and thinks about the night before you stopped talking.

Though he didn’t know it at the time, you’d left Yeonjun’s place to sit with him in a tiny restaurant on campus, the one you’d only visit to toast to each other’s heartbreaks. It had become a ritual — ever since your first year boyfriend dumped you after two weeks — to cry as much as you wanted and drink as much soju as your bodies could handle before stumbling back to your apartments.

Having spent years suffering from an unrequited crush on his best friend, Sunghoon was always the one to comfort you. But that night was different; you were there to comfort him. It was easy enough to play the part of ‘boy whose crush likes someone else’ because he spent your entire friendship in that role. He’d had no problem accepting his fate, but his composure started to slip when you met Yeonjun. It was the first time you’d dated someone who Sunghoon had reason to be jealous of. In every way, Yeonjun was better than him—taller, funnier, hotter. Sunghoon knew he didn’t stand a chance. He took it personally, you liking Yeonjun instead of him, and let his jealousy consume him from the inside out.

This jealousy led him to start telling you about Minjeong—lying to you about Minjeong, and his feelings for her. She was a girl from a college out of town that he saw on his Instagram Explore page. He followed her by accident, and by some stroke of luck, she followed back. Sunghoon didn’t really have feelings for her — he didn’t even know her — but she was a girl that you didn’t know, so you wouldn’t be able to meddle.

It only took a few weeks for Sunghoon to become so upset about your relationship that he couldn’t hide his emotions anymore. So, in a fit of tears, he told you over the phone that things ended badly with Minjeong, and he was in urgent need of a soju ceremony.

But the night was missing its usual comforts.

It was strange to be the one crying, to see you looking put together and ordering the food. To see you pouring the drinks and raising your glass to propose a toast to ‘Hoonie’s first heartbreak’. You were driving that night, so you only had a tiny sip of soju and let him drink as much as he needed, the way he always did for you, at the same table, in the same restaurant for years.

Hours later, in your car, you entertained his drunken rambles, though he remembers how your lips were set into a frown that he wanted to kiss away while you gripped the steering wheel like you thought it would run from you. Sunghoon was more drunk than he’d been in a while, drunk enough to let you sling his arm over your shoulders and keep him upright until you reached his flat.

The voices coming from Yeji’s room disrupt the memory. He’s thankful.

“Your brother’s going through something, so be nice to him this weekend.” His mother’s voice is her version of hushed—a loud whisper.

Yeji’s response is harder to make out, but he doesn’t miss the way their mum says, “I mean it, missy.”

A dramatic sigh rumbles through Yeji as she barges into his room without knocking. Sunghoon sits up, feeling an ache in his back and crossing his legs.

“Mum told me to lay off you today, which is fine, but before I do, I need to tell you something.”

Yeji pushes the door shut behind her, and the open window makes it slam, both of them flinching from the sudden noise. She pulls her hair out of a silk scrunchie and throws herself on the floor. A pang of irritation forms in his chest, knowing that he could immediately find the empty hanger in his wardrobe where the shirt she’s wearing used to live.

“I hate you and your perfect golden boy image, Hoon. Would it kill you to fail a class for once? I don’t know how I’m supposed to carry on your legacy.” She’s looking up at him, her chin in her hands and irritation written in the crease between her thick brows.

It’s impossible to know if it’s because of Yeji’s complete lack of boundaries or the fact that her ‘perfect, golden boy’ big brother is on track to fail three out of three classes and get cut from the hockey team, but Sunghoon immediately bursts into tears.

“Oh, uh.. I’m sorry?” Yeji offers. “I was kidding if that helps.”

“I’m alright, it’s okay.” The tears don’t stop stinging his eyes. “Why do you want me to change everything about myself?”

With a frown, Yeji pours out her frustration and mild resentment. She doesn’t understand how Sunghoon effortlessly conquers every aspect of life while she struggles. Neither do their parents, who had been baffled by her plummeting grades since she moved to boarding school, especially when Sunghoon’s academic performance has only soared since he left for university. The weight of this perceived injustice pulls Sunghoon’s shoulders down with guilt as she talks about the expectations he has inadvertently set for her.

“But other than that, I’m good.” She shrugs, sitting with her legs out, and leaning back on her palms. “How’s YN?” she asks. It’s clear from the brightness in her voice that she thinks she’s helping.

Sunghoon cries again.

Back on campus, he’s trying to scrape together what’s left of his academic career with the help of two of the smartest guys he knows, and their friend Jay. Though the word ‘friend’ feels a little strong at the moment given the way Jay’s goading him.

Sunghoon rolls his eyes, sitting back in his seat. “There’s nothing you can do that I can’t,” he says, meaning every word.

Jay scoffs, shrugging and raising his brow in a way that, over the years, Sunghoon knows to interpret as his ‘about to say something ridiculous’ look. “Pretty sure I could call YN right now, and she’d answer.”

There’s a pit in Sunghoon’s stomach as Heeseung turns his head in the other direction like he’s been slapped, trembling with stifled laughter. At least Jake doesn’t hide his amusement, throwing his head back in a fit of giggles that draw nasty looks from the other students in the library. Sunghoon doesn’t waste his energy trying to argue because Jay’s right.

Now composed, Heeseung turns back to the table, flipping through some of Sunghoon’s course materials to find whatever his class was doing in class that week. The English Literature class he’s taking — The Modernist Movement: Joyce, Woolf, and Hemingway — is the same class he had to send a million emails over the summer to get enrolled in, but it’s the same one Heeseung aced two years ago. Lucky for him none of the boys seem to be in the mood to make fun of him for trying so hard to have a class in common with you, and then practically failing out of it before the term had started properly.

“This class is, like, beyond easy, dude.” Heeseung pauses to sniffle and twist the stud in his ear. “Everyone in my class aced it. How are you doing so badly already?”

“I only took it because YN thought it’d be fun if we had a class together, but.. I kind of haven’t been going since we stopped talking.” Sunghoon shrugs, pretending to be unaffected.

As if the mere mention of your name has some sort of summoning power, like saying Biggie Smalls in the mirror three times, you appear in his eye line, rounding the corner with a furious stride. Your demeanour crumbles when Jay waves at you, and you grin, waving back, but as soon as you look Sunghoon in the eye again, the rage comes back, and you smack a hand on the table when you reach it, leaning over to him.

“Sunghoon, a word?” you ask.

He thinks you’re asking, but it’s hard to tell with the way you set your jaw afterwards, and the way the warmth of your signature vanilla scent hits him hard. Dazed, Sunghoon lifts a hand, pointing at himself. “Me?”

“Does anyone else at the table answer to Sunghoon?”

“Okay,” he says, somewhat pathetically, nudging Jay for laughing at him.

As slowly as possible, Sunghoon pushes his chair from the table and stands up, following you to the corner of the references section where only anthropology students in scratchy thrift store knits, and Jay, come to check out encyclopaedias by volume. You look good, save for the rage written all over your face—which, honestly, Sunghoon thinks he likes.

Sunghoon isn’t sure what to expect, so he says, “Hey.” He’s being cautious, waiting a moment to gauge your reaction. “What’s gooooood?” His cheeks burn as soon as he closes his mouth around the vowel, but you laugh. You laugh, and it’s beautiful and happy, and you’re laughing because of him—or at him, but he’s glad either way.

Annoyance quickly clears all traces of amusement on your face. “Were you ever going to tell me we’re spending next week at Mum and Dad’s?” you ask.

Sunghoon gasps dramatically, clicking his fingers. “I knew there was something I’ve been meaning to do.”

His attempt at lightening the mood falls flat, and you only nudge his shoulder gently, sighing. “Can you be serious? For once in your life, even for a second, can you please think about how the things you say affect me?” You’re frowning, crossing your arms over your chest and looking at your feet. “It’s not fair, Sunghoon. For you to keep saying things—making plans involving me and then acting like I’m the bad guy when I turn you down.”

“I don’t think you’re the bad guy at all,” Sunghoon admits. “If anyone is in the wrong, it’s me, I guess.”

You scoff, looking at him like you hate him. “You guess? Are you serious?” You look furious, but you sound hurt and Sunghoon hates it. Hates himself. “I can’t have this conversation with you right now. Tell mum I’m sick, and it’s contagious.” You roll your eyes and walk away, leaving Sunghoon alone with his thoughts and judgemental stares from students in crochet scarves so long they graze the floor.

He sighs, slumping against the wall. How does he keep getting it wrong with you?

Back at the table, Sunghoon manages to act like he’s not falling apart and makes some serious headway on his missing assignments with Heeseung’s help before they call it a day as the sun starts to set.

When he gets home, he lies down on his bedroom floor, spending hours poring over the conversation you had. Over the minute changes in your facial expression, the tone of your voice, and the endless list of things he should have done, rather than watch you walk away.

The moment feels familiar, both identical to and worlds apart from what happened after you left three months ago. When he managed to scrape the last shreds of his dignity from the kitchen table, he dragged his feet to his room and lay down like he is now, face to the rug. That day, he left his door open and lay so still that Jake thought he was dead. Sunghoon remembers wishing he had been.

For once in your life, even for a second, can you please think about how the things you say affect me? The words run on a loop in his mind, over and over, until he can’t remember the order of the sentence or where you put emphasis. They’re cutting all the same.

Sunghoon sighs into the itchy fibres of his black rug before rolling onto his back. In the diminishing purple light of the setting sun. he looks at the walls of his room. At the Fleetwood Mac poster, he stole from Jay when they moved out of their first year dorm, that curls away from the wall towards the ceiling—a diagonal strip of shiny tape being the only indication of the otherwise invisible tear through the face of Stevie Nicks.

He’s glad when his phone rings, cutting through the quiet, though the sight of your name and the anatomical heart emoji next to it only dampens his spirit. Reluctantly, Sunghoon answers the phone, holding it to his ear.

“I just got off the phone with Dad..” You trail off. Tangible silence follows, so thick it weighs on his chest. “I’ll go home with you.”

“You will?”

“Yes. Goodbye.”

Sunghoon reaches your flat at five in the evening. You don’t smile when you open the door for him, nor do you invite him in. Instead, you dump your bag at your feet and he cringes, looking from the floor to you. You’re aggressively beautiful and cosy-looking as you pull a jacket over the sweater you wore that night. Sunghoon’s heart aches in his chest and he wonders if you even realise. Suddenly, the memory of the last thing you said the morning after hits him like a truck: Then let’s not be friends at all.

A familiar weight lands on his shoulder—your hand. Concern lines your eyes as you ask if he’s okay.

With a lump in his throat, Sunghoon nods.

In the discomfort of his car, the two of you sit in silence while he starts the drive home.

“How’s Yeonjun,” he asks, eyes flicking towards you but regretting it immediately when he sees how you clench your jaw.

“No,” you say simply, shaking your head. “You don’t get to ask me about him.”

These are the only words you exchange until Sunghoon stops for petrol. He has enough fuel for the rest of the journey, but he feels like dying and thinks the fresh air might quell his thoughts of running his car off the road. Like always, the two of you get out and head into the kiosk, where he follows you wordlessly through the aisles, watching you debate on snack choices before settling on the same things you always get. Sunghoon pays for your snacks and you roll your eyes but don’t protest, mumbling thanks as you take them into your arms, leading the way back outside.

He knows he needs to tell you before you reach the house, but he’s not entirely sure how to say it—so he just does. “My, uh.. my parents think we’re dating.”

You stop so suddenly in front of him that he almost bumps into you. Stepping around you, Sunghoon keeps walking.

Over the top of his car, he watches your face cycle through all five stages of grief until anger comes back around in the loop as you scoff. “Why do they think that?” Your face is devoid of expression now, the blankness over your features dragging a sharp chill over his spine.

He stares blankly at you, processing. “Because I told them we’re dating,” he mumbles.

“Why did you.. do that?” You tilt your head, eyes pressing shut in a long blink. “What are you even talking about? Why did you.. What?”

A thin layer of sweat coats his palms despite the cold. Why did he do that? “We can stage a breakup during the trip or say we broke up right now,” Sunghoon offers. “Just one night, YN, please.”

The wind whistles by, ruffling your hair and jacket that you hug tightly to your chest. Behind you, Sunghoon takes note of the group of girls standing by the pumps, all five of them jerking their heads abruptly when they notice him watching, suddenly finding interest in the scattered litter and flickering halogen bulbs in the steel canopy over their heads.

You’re staring when he looks back at you, nostrils twitching with a sniffle before you sigh. “Or we could say that you’re a liar and end things there,” you say. “Or better yet, you go down there on your own and tell them the truth.”

Sunghoon’s gaze drops, his thoughts racing in his mind. He knows you’re right. At some point, his parents will have to find out, and it’d be better for them to find out now. Sunghoon sighs, nodding. “Alright,” he concedes. “I’ll take you back.”

An angry laugh comes out of you as you shake your head. “No need, I’ll walk.”

The station you’re at is neatly nestled in the middle of nowhere, on a road so narrow he’s not even sure it has a pavement. You’re halfway through the three-hour drive, so there’s no telling how long the walk would be, never mind the fact that the sun is already setting and it’s deep enough into October for the wind to sting.

“From here?” he asks, incredulous.

“Yes, open the boot so I can get my bag.”

Sunghoon can only bring himself to say your name, a desperate whisper.

“Open the boot.”

He repeats your name as if it’ll make a difference, he’s pleading with you, begging—though he doesn’t know for what.

You go to the back of his car where Sunghoon joins you, a pit in his stomach when you step away. With misty eyes, you look up at him and his heart breaks. “Please.”

Sunghoon knows you well enough to know that you’re not actually going to attempt the walk home but also knows that you won’t back down if he keeps challenging you. He nods, opening the boot for you and getting into the driver’s seat—your move.

You stand there, unmoving, and long enough passes that he thinks you’ll actually leave. The boot closes softly and you join him in the passenger seat. You sigh, buckling your seatbelt. “Let’s just get this over with.”

For the rest of the journey, you sit in silence as Sunghoon briefs you on the relationship, fighting a smile as he thinks about being your boyfriend—even if only for a night. You scoff when he ‘reminds’ you that you’ve been together for four months now and the only reason you haven’t been able to come home recently is that your schedules don’t match up very well anymore—which couldn’t be further from the truth as, before term started, you went out to celebrate the fact that your class schedules couldn’t be more suited for seeing each other.

Finally, at Sunghoon’s childhood home, the two of you smile and laugh for his parents before going to bed. Your relationship has only made his mother more averse to the idea of you sharing a room under her roof than she had been when you were younger. He’s relieved about this, and in the solitude of his bedroom, he lies on the duvet of his twin bed, staring up at the ceiling and thinking about the last few hours.

With his parents, you’d sat up in the living room watching TV. They sat on the couch together, his mum nestled in his dad’s side, while you two sat on the couch opposite, mirroring their position. If your complete stiffness was anything to go by, you were less than comfortable with his arm around you and Sunghoon felt terrible for begging you to go along with this. It was after midnight when you all went upstairs and you let him kiss your forehead before all but slamming the door to the guest room in his face. His heart twirled and his mum beamed at him before saying goodnight again.

Now, at 3 a.m. he can’t sleep. Flinching at the knock on his door, he furrows his brows and goes to open it. It’s you. Standing there with your hair scraped away from your face in one of his t-shirts. Your eyes are red, brimmed with tears as you step into his room and sit on his bed.

He closes the door softly, heart aching at the sight of you so upset, and when he sits next to you, his heart tears apart because you move over, putting a distance between you. It falls out of his chest onto the floor when he realises you’re not wearing your necklace.

Sunghoon suspected you might have stopped wearing it, it only made sense that if you didn’t want him, you wouldn’t want the necklace he bought for you either, but at least earlier, your sweatshirt sat so high he couldn’t see if you had it on or not.

It was a gift for your sixteenth birthday, after your first heartbreak. He was so upset and angry that you let some loser hurt you that way, upset and angry that someone could be loved by you and fuck it up. Sunghoon was inspired by Jay, who’d gotten a pretty necklace for his girlfriend, and talked about her cute reaction for weeks, how happy she was to have a piece of him with her all the time. It was a locket, with a picture of Jay in one side and a picture of her in the other so the pictures would kiss when she wore it.

While at the jewellers with Jake, Sunghoon thought something like that might be a bit much for the two of you and eventually picked out an equally pretty piece with his first initial on it. He wrote a corny note to put in the box, something about how ‘boys come and go but Sunghoon is forever’ and gave it to you with trembling hands a few nights later—it was the first time he ever made you cry. Immediately, he thought he’d done something wrong and was ready to snatch the box and run back to the jewellers (even though he trashed the receipt). You hugged him and told him you loved him. Sunghoon’s been riding that high ever since.

Until tonight at least.

“Are you okay?” he whispers.

“I’ll do it, Hoon.” Your eyes lift from the floor to meet his gaze. “For as long as you need me to, I’ll pretend.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, Sunghoon feels lighter, an unbearable weight slipping from his shoulders. You haven’t called him ‘Hoon’ in ages, and he can’t tell if you’ve said it out of vulnerability, or even noticed that you’ve said it at all, but it warms his heart nonetheless. However, he’s not fully at ease, still curious about your sudden change of heart and why you’re crying.

“What happened?”

You pull him into a hug, and his eyes bulge out of his head. “It doesn’t matter,” you say, the words muffled by the skin at the base of his neck.

For as long as he’s known you, you’ve smelled like vanilla, a sweet warmth that grounds him. Yet it’s only after these months apart that he’s able to put a name to the sensation: home. The realisation of how much he’s missed this feeling, missed you, floods him with a rush of emotion so overwhelming he can’t find the words to press the issue. A moment passes before he remembers to hug you back, his arms finally wrapping around you, pulling you close, and you sink into his hold. Months ago, he would have kissed the top of your head and mumbled reassurance into your hair, but tonight, Sunghoon settles for stroking the back of your head and hopes it’s enough.

“You can talk to me, you know? You can always talk to me.”

A heavy silence follows, sharp as a dagger—scraping his skin, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on edge and lodging itself between his shoulder blades. Sunghoon’s breath hitches in his throat when you cling onto him even tighter, shifting so close you’ve had to settle in his lap. His heart races in his chest, pounding a rhythm so loud it fills the room.

Finally, you speak, assuring him that you know and that you’re okay. At this, Sunghoon holds you as tight as he can, and neither of you speaks for the rest of the night. You fall asleep like this, in his arms, so deeply that you don’t even stir when he lies down.

Rubbing your back, he watches the clock on his nightstand, the piercing green LED digits cycling through two whole hours right before his stinging eyes until you wake up. Sunghoon presses his eyes shut, pretending to be asleep when you kiss his cheek and leave his room.

For the entire morning, you stay in your room, and although Sunghoon is concerned, he decides not to bother you. In the afternoon, he sits at the dining table with his mum, listening as she talks about work. When she asks him, he gets up to make a cup of tea for her. It’s at that moment when you finally come downstairs, looking so effortlessly pretty. Your hair is still damp from the shower, and you’re bundled up in one of his old sweatshirts. There’s a bright grin on your face that leaves his heart thudding.

“Baby!” you squeal when you see him, charging towards him and wrapping your arms around him from behind. “Good morning.” Your words are muffled against the back of his t-shirt, and the four-letter word, and the sugar coating it, make his cheeks burn.

“It’s great to see you too, YN,” his mum says with a smile. “My night was amazing; I slept very well and had no dreams.”

You let go of Sunghoon and walk over to the table, kissing his mum on the cheek and wishing her a good morning as well. “Sorry, mum, how are you?”

His mother doesn’t seem to have the heart to correct you either, allowing your 3 p.m. ‘good morning’ to go unnoticed.

Sunghoon carefully fills both mugs to the brim and, with extra caution, carries them to the table. He places a steaming cup of peppermint tea in front of his mum and a milky coffee in front of you. A warm smile spreads across your face as you mouth a ‘thank you’, and his knees turn to jelly.

The next day, after eating an early dinner with his parents at the table, the four of you go out on a walk along the bike path you used to take for school. His parents have gone ahead, not intentionally, but because Sunghoon can’t stop you from dragging your feet.

As with most things in the town where you grew up, nothing about the trail has changed. The leaves are yellowing in standard form for the season, and crunching under his feet with each step he takes. The only foreign experience is the silence that you’re determined to uphold. Everything Sunghoon says to you is met with either a hum, a nod, or no acknowledgement at all. At this point, he feels like he could drop dead at your side and the most you’d do is step over his body like a fallen branch.

After letting you go ahead, the weathered slats of the wooden footbridge sag in the middle under his tread. It’s been like this for as long as he can remember and he wonders how nothing has been done about it. The stream rushes under it, loud and unruly, the smell of wet grass both comforting and suffocating as you look over the railing. It’s like something from a postcard, the low-hanging branches sweeping back and forth under the breeze, the grass lush and green around the path, murky water thrashing against the mud and rocks underneath with you in the middle of the frame, peering over the edge.

You keep walking when Sunghoon approaches, leaving him alone on the creaky bridge with nothing but the ache in his chest. He looks up, staring at the grey clouds in the sky through the gaps in the leaves, and sighs.

Eventually, he catches up with you, grabbing your hand and locking his fingers with yours when his parents slow down. You stiffen, looking up at him with cut eyes and a creased brow. “What are you doing?”

Sunghoon matches your clipped tone. “Holding my girlfriend’s hand.”

“No one’s looking, boyfriend.”

“You think my parents aren’t going to wonder why we’re lagging behind?”

A scoff—your fingers remain defiantly stiff. “Do you think your parents are going to care whether or not we’re holding hands?”

“My mum might after the show you put on yesterday afternoon, baby.” Bitterness covers the word like a blanket, a stark departure from how you said it.

A long sigh rumbles its way out of you before you fix your lips into a strained grin. “Sorry, sweetheart, this is my first time pretending to be in love.”

As your words hang in the air, Sunghoon’s emotions brew like a storm within him. Frustration gnaws at his patience. All hopes for a smooth week are dashed, though determination simmers in his chest with a strong resolve to make this work, to fix your relationship. It doesn’t stop the sharp pang of hurt piercing his stomach—he knows you don’t feel the same way, he knows you’re faking, but the word ‘pretending’ hits him like a truck anyway.

“We held hands all the time when we were friends,” he points out.

Your smile drops immediately, hurt flashing behind your eyes. “Yeah, and now we’re not.”

If there was a competition for who could hurt Sunghoon’s feelings the most, you’d be a shoo-in for first place. With distinction.

“Exactly!” he says, feeling the sting of his own words. “Because now we’re dating.”

At the sight of his mum turning around, you switch up in an instant. Lock your fingers with his, wrapping an arm around his bicep, leaning into him, giggling. It’s forced but his parents are far enough away that all that matters is the curve of your lips.

“You two okay back there?” she asks.

“Perfect! I feel like a kid again!” you call back, beaming up at Sunghoon in a way that makes his stomach flutter even though it doesn’t meet your eyes.

The two of you don’t talk at all when you get home, with you hugging his parents goodnight and running up the stairs.

“She’s not feeling too well,” he explains, nodding when his dad tells him to make you some tea.

His parents spend the whole day at work, and you spend the whole day following him around like a shadow until the evening when they return. He doesn’t pretend not to like it.

Sunghoon helps you make dinner, turning leftover rice into fried rice with the help of some eggs and vegetables. It’s nice moving around the kitchen with you, watching you scramble eggs in his t-shirt and bump his hip with a playful frown when he eats some of the peppers you’re chopping.

His parents watch from the table, cooing over the two of you and he does his best to fight the blush forming on his cheeks and neck. Embarrassed, he hugs you from behind, hiding his face in your neck—the scent of your coconut conditioner mixing with your vanilla perfume doesn’t do anything to stop the flush.

Over a bottle of wine, the four of you eat together at the table, swapping stories about your days. Sunghoon tries to hide his surprise as you lie about the time you spent at the play park by your primary school, competing for height on the swings and spinning on the roundabout until you couldn’t stand up. You grin at him, and it meets your eyes as you hold his hand under the table, and kiss his cheek.

After eating, his parents head upstairs, leaving to clean up together. You hum a song he’s never heard as you load the dishwasher, carefully placing the plates and cutlery in the rack, shaking your head when he hands you the glasses you’d used.

“Leave ours,” you say. “If you want.”

Sunghoon nods, putting them back on the table, where you sit in the seat across from the one he was sitting in. He sits too, staying quiet rather than saying the wrong thing. You don’t speak either. It’s reminiscent of the past—the hours you’d spend in the same room, only speaking to share a funny post you’d come across or to ask if you were hungry.

His eyes track your movements—reaching for the half-empty bottle on the table to pour yourself another glass, filling it to the brim. Before putting it down, you offer him some, filling his glass too when he nods. The three glasses of wine he’s already had must be the reason he wants to reach across the table and hold your hand, run his thumb over the soft skin on the back of it.

Sunghoon doesn’t know why you’ve been so nice to him all day or why it makes his chest hurt.

“You know you don’t have to be nice to me when we’re alone, right?” The words come out before he can stop them.

Over the top of your glass, your brows knit together. A sound of confusion, a low hum, comes from your throat as you try to finish your sip. “What?” you ask finally.

“I only asked you to do this because of my parents, you know? You don’t have to sit or talk with me when they’re not around.”

Sunghoon’s known you long enough to recognise the look that flashes across your face. The way your eyes narrow and your brows tug together, the little pout that sets on your lips before you speak; you’re hurt.

“Why can’t I just be nice to you because it’s the right thing to do?”

Because it hurts, is what he wants to say. He wants to cry, to beg you to forget everything he said that day. “Because I don’t want to make you any more uncomfortable than I already have.” Is what he settles for.

Your face softens. “I don’t feel uncomfortable around you, Hoon. We were best friends for ages, I don’t think you could ever make me uncomfortable.” You pause to take a gulp of wine. “Why can’t I just want to be nice to you?”

Sunghoon has to chew on his cheek to distract himself from how much your word choice stings. The implications of were and all of your past tense. “I’m sorry,” he says.

“What for?”

“Everything.”

There’s a sadness in the way you run your fingers on the base of your glass. The way you chew on your lip, how your hair falls when you tilt your head and how it moves when you shake it. “It’s not your fault,” you say. “I don’t know anyone who would choose to have unrequited feelings for their best friend.”

Wow, he thinks. You’re on a roll. Sunghoon wonders if you’re meticulously choosing your phrasing to upset him. Wonders why you feel the need to remind him that his feelings aren’t reciprocated as if he didn’t live through and spend hours reliving the day he confessed.

“But I didn’t have to tell you about it. It was unfair of me to spring that on you when I knew about Yeonjun.”

“Did you.. did you think I was going to leave him for you?”

“Maybe?” Sunghoon chews on his lip—he has no idea what he thought would happen. “I think I thought I loved you enough for both of us, that you might play the part for fun or out of curiosity, and.. I don’t know, just learn to love me.”

“Hoon,” you whisper, frowning. “How could you even think about settling for something like that?”

Sunghoon shrugs. “It’s not settling if it’s you.”

Silence takes a seat at the table after he speaks, interrupted only by the ticking clock on the wall—a glittery mess of scrapbooking paper and washi tape layered over each other that Yeji had decorated at summer camp years ago. You’re picking at your fingernails, letting flecks of black polish fall to the table, stark against the varnished oak.

“I know it’s not my place to ask,” Sunghoon starts after a while, hesitant and only continuing when you nod. “But what did Yeonjun say when you told him? About.. everything?”

You take a long sip from your glass and sit quietly for so long that he thinks you’re not going to answer him—he doesn’t blame you.

“I didn’t.”

He waits for you to elaborate. You don’t.

Sunghoon nods slowly, deciding not to ask any follow-up questions. Instead, he takes another drink, scrunching his nose at the bitter taste. “He didn’t ask why we stopped hanging out?” he blurts out.

“I told him we fell out but I didn’t say why.” You shrug, but your posture is stiff.

“Where did you tell him you were going to be this week?” He knows it’s not his business at all, that he’s pushing your boundaries, but he can’t help his curiosity.

“Nowhere.”

“You told him you were staying on campus?”

“I didn’t tell him anything.” Your gaze shifts, avoiding his as you toy with the stem of your glass. You drum your nails against it, letting the dull clink ring out.

“So you just left?”

“Does it make a difference to you?”

Sunghoon nods.

For a while, you tug at the drawstrings on your hoodie, pursing your lips to the side, considering this. “Yeonjun and I aren’t together anymore.” Your admission is so shocking that Sunghoon’s jaw drops. He tries to cover his surprise by coughing, his tongue sticking out like a small child. “I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want you to think it was because of you.”

Sunghoon’s thoughts move at lightspeed, too fast for him to catch onto any of them and process this information. His emotions compete with each other—disbelief, guilt, and a painful glimmer of hope he hadn’t dared to acknowledge until now all at the forefront.

“Was it?” he asks. “Because of me?”

You scoff—an incredulous sound that doesn’t match the sad look on your face. “I don’t know, Sunghoon. Do you think my boyfriend used me to make his ex jealous because of you?”

He’s not sure what he expected you to say, but this is.. Complete disbelief eclipses him as his heart sinks in his chest, shock, and guilt bubbling in his stomach.

“I’m sorry,” he says after too long. “That I wasn’t there. That I haven’t been there.”

“You didn’t know,” you say, gaze softening as you look up at him.

“But I made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me about it.”

You shake your head. “I made me feel like I couldn’t talk to you about it. All you did was change the friendship, I’m the one who ended it.”

“I still should’ve been there.”

“You’re here now, right?”

Sunghoon nods, earnestly. “Always.”

Only one thing comes to mind when you repeat the word ‘always’ before taking a sip from your glass, downing its contents. Sunghoon gets up and crosses the room with wobbly steps to open the fridge, where he pulls out as many bottles of soju as he can hold in his hands and puts them down on the table. He goes back to collect some glasses from the cabinet, puts some of the leftover fried rice from dinner into the microwave, and brings it all over when it’s done, with bowls and utensils. You watch him with a fond smile as he opens a bottle and he hopes you think the flush on his cheeks is from all the drinking you’ve been doing.

“Is it bad that I’ve missed doing this?” You’re grinning now.

Sunghoon shakes his head, raising his glass. “To YN’s fifteenth heartbreak.”

You grin, clinking the rim of your glass against his. “To YN’s fifteenth heartbreak,” you repeat.

Both of you down the glasses, and Sunghoon refills them, pouring the soju with an oddly steady hand. As you eat spoonfuls of rice and sip your drinks, silence settles over the room. The soft glow of the kitchen lights forms a warm ambience, a cosy familiarity that brings up simple memories—doing homework together at the table while gossiping about your classmates, the first New Year after you were both eighteen and had your first drink with his parents.

For at least an hour, the only sounds are the occasional clinks of forks against bowls, glasses hitting the table, the faint hum of the refrigerator and the steady tick of Yeji’s clock. Sunghoon’s eyes meet yours, and he can’t help but notice the slight change in your expression when they do.

You clear your throat, running a hand through your hair. “This is my sixteenth, actually.”

“What?”

You take a small sip of soju, staring down at the table. “My fifteenth heartbreak was losing you. Yeonjun is my sixteenth.”

In the two days since your soju ceremony, Sunghoon finds himself sinking into the role of your boyfriend like a hot bath. But there’s no use pretending it doesn’t hurt. Pretending it doesn’t hurt when you kiss his cheek before bed, or when you reach out to push the hair out of his face or snuggle into his side on the couch; because it does hurt—a lot. It hurts to think that in three days when you put your bags in the boot of his car, you’ll sit in silence all the way home. When he drops you off at your flat, you’ll close the door in his face and stop talking to him again. These realisations are harder to confront when he’s alone in his room, like now.

About an hour ago, you asked if you could borrow his car, saying there was something you needed to do on your own. It seemed important, so he handed over his keys with no question. Sighing, Sunghoon gets up from his bed and heads to the shower, where he jerks off to clear his mind. On his way back to his room, he notices the light leaking from the open kitchen door that illuminates the landing.

He hears the lock on the front door clicking, and stands at the top of the stairs, dripping water onto the carpet while listening attentively. His ears perk up when he hears a gasp—his mother.

“What’s this for?” she asks.

“I just..” You trail off. “I know it’s not much, but I wanted to thank you both for always looking after me.” You pause, and Sunghoon holds his breath, waiting. Your voice trembles as you continue. “It’s been hard since my parents went back home, and I guess it was still hard when they were here, but you both supported me. I don’t think I could’ve managed without you guys. I want to make you guys proud, you know? And I’m trying, really, so this is me saying thank you. I’m sorry it took me so long.”

He grips the railing by the landing, digging his nails into the wood until they start hurting—an ache in his fingertips that makes him wince.

An odd feeling settles in his stomach, a bittersweetness tinged in his fondness for you, and the gentle shock of realising how much his parents have done for you. Growing up, you became an honorary member of Sunghoon’s family. His parents showered you with gifts during holidays and birthdays, which you often celebrated with them rather than your own family.

The memory of your parents’ sudden decision to move across the country still lingers, and Sunghoon vividly recalls the tearful conversation he overheard at the top of the stairs. Your parents understood the enormity of their request but had earnestly asked if Sunghoon’s parents could continue looking after you.

His chest tightens when you start crying.

“You don’t have to thank us for anything, sweetie. Just you being here and taking care of our boy is more than enough thanks. You never forget our birthdays, and you always come and visit when you can. You’re doing a great job, and you should give yourself some credit,” his dad says, a little choked up. “We’ve always been proud of you.”

Sunghoon’s eyes sting with tears and his skin gets dry in the spots where the water from the shower is evaporating. He presses his fingers to his closed eyes, forcing a few tears to fall and walks the rest of the way to his room with his eyes shut. He can’t hear anything through his closed bedroom door, which he decides is a good thing as he coats himself in moisturiser and swipes deodorant under his arms with intention to spend the whole night alone. Once he’s dressed, he gets into bed and pretends not to be bothered by the way his wet hair dampens his pillow. Under the duvet, he tosses and turns before sighing and heading to Yeji’s room.

In her absence, the room’s subtle transformation is stark. The sage green-painted walls, once a backdrop to the A3 faces of Wave to Earth and Beabadoobee, now bear the faint imprints of those missing posters. Tiny, shadowy rectangles are the only remnants of the 6x4-sized pictures of her and her friends, of her and Sunghoon, that she took away with her to school.

Her hairdryer is still on her desk where she’d left it for him to use and he sits in her stiff wooden chair, plugging it in. The airflow starts immediately, hot and loud, humming throughout the space as he runs his fingers through his wet hair, feeling cosy under the heat. His shampoo is fresh and soapy scented under his nose, and his reflection watches him in Yeji’s mirror, eyes red and concerned while his hair blows around his head. Sunghoon closes his eyes and finishes his hair, sighing as he lets his worries slip under the whir of the fan.

Finished, he shuts off the dryer and opens his eyes, flinching at your reflection in the doorway behind him with a soft smile on your face. “Mum and Dad are going to open a bottle of wine if you want to join,” you say, meeting his eyes in the mirror.

Sunghoon can’t find it in himself to speak, only nodding in response. You smile wider but don’t move. He unplugs the hairdryer and leaves it on the desk where he found it before crossing the room. Without giving himself a chance to think about it, he pulls you into a hug and kisses the top of your head, smiling into your hair when you wrap your arms around his waist, holding him closer.

You’re sitting on the edge of the bathtub, mumbling sleepily that you’re never going to drink again, and Sunghoon leans over the sink brushing his teeth, he’s glad you have the decency to cover your mouth as you speak.

“Brush your teeth and go back to sleep then,” he mumbles around his toothbrush.

You don’t respond.

Sunghoon sighs through his nose, spitting foamy toothpaste into the sink, leaving bubbly, blue splatters on the porcelain. “And quit staring at me, I can feel your beady little eyes on the back of my neck and it’s freaking me out.”

“But you’re so pretty,” you coo.

There’s a flutter in his stomach and he rinses off the sink and his mouth, buying himself some time. With a hand on the Listerine, he lifts his gaze to meet yours in the mirror and stops short. You’re still staring at him, features soft and glowing under the afternoon light. You look like an angel; a gentle smile spreading over your lips, and a sleepy glint sparkling in your eyes, wide and gorgeous as you watch him. Sunghoon gulps, mumbling his thanks and looking back at himself. He hopes you can’t see the flush on his cheeks.

“Go back to sleep,” he says.

“Will you come and lie down with me if I do?” Your voice is a sleepy drawl, coming out in a slow, high-pitched slur, and your eyes are closing on themselves.

Lying down doesn’t sound like a terrible idea, especially not if it’s with you, so he nods. “If you brush your teeth, then yeah, baby, I’ll lie down with you.”

You chuckle softly at Sunghoon’s agreement, the sound carrying a mix of exhaustion and genuine amusement, showing no repulsion to him calling you the B-word. He didn’t mean to, it’s been a confusing few days. You nod, saluting to him and getting up to join him by the sink, using your hip to bump him out of the way, but he feels like he’s glued to the spot.

“Move, baby,” you mumble sleepily, reaching for your toothbrush. “We can cuddle in my bed,” you suggest, to which Sunghoon only nods, taking your words as a cue to unstick his feet from the floor and go to your room, playing the word ‘baby’ on a loop in his head.

He stands in the doorway staring at your bed, the duvet is all crumpled in the middle, and the pillows are in an L shape at the top corner. He sighs, he can’t go on like this, can’t stand around hoping even a tiny part of you called him ‘baby’ and it meant something for you as it did for him. It’s not fair for him to project his feelings on you like this, but he can’t help it. You’re already pretending for his parents, so would it be so bad to pretend for his sake as well? Even if only until the day after tomorrow when you leave?

The sound of the bathroom door shutting behind you snaps him out of his thoughts, your bright smile making his heart race when you tug him by the sleeve to your bed where the mattress dips underneath you as you curl into his form, resting your head on his chest and falling asleep. You’ve shared the bed before, countless times, but he knows you’ve only asked him because you’re tired. Because your brain is foggy with drowsiness that clouds your judgement, not because you want him there, not because you miss him when he’s two doors down the hall, tossing and turning at night thinking about you. He wonders absently if you can feel his aching heart beating through his chest, a painful, yet all too familiar rhythm that pulls his own eyes shut, plunging him into a deep sleep too.

It’s dark in the room when he wakes up, the sun already down behind the curtains and the soft yellow of the bedside lamp casting a glow around the space. You’re staring up at him, smiling and you don’t look away when he catches you. “What is it?” he asks, voice thick with sleep.

“Nothing,” you mumble. “I just missed you.” Sunghoon has no time to respond or even register what you said before you clear your throat, speaking again. “Come on, dad’s cooking tonight, he’ll need help.”

Helping Sunghoon’s dad with dinner always looks an awful lot like Sunghoon eating snacks on the kitchen counter and staring at you as you help his dad cook. Tonight is no exception, he’s sitting on the island, and his snack of choice is a family pack of Chilli Heatwave Doritos his mum bought for Yeji. He’ll have to remember to replace them before leaving seeing as he’s reaching the halfway point.

You go back and forth with his dad about measurements, with you rummaging through the drawers for measuring cups while his dad says it’s best to trust your gut. Reluctantly, you nod, chewing the inside of your cheek as you watch him eyeball the seasoning.

The gas stove turns the kitchen into an oven, and you complain about it while opening a window, pulling your hoodie over your head and leaving it in Sunghoon’s lap. Time stops when you grin at him, the light from the stove hood illuminating the necklace you’re wearing, his initial resting on your chest and glowing under the light. He chokes around a crisp when he sees it, catching your attention with his coughing.

“You’ll spoil your dinner, snacking like that, baby,” you scold, using a hand to push his knee. “We’re almost done, I swear.”

All he can do is nod, cheeks burning as he folds the crisp packet over before putting it back in the bread bin where he found it.

“Wow,” his dad says, resting his hands on his hips and shaking his head in amusement. “Being in love looks good on him, he’d never have listened if I said that.”

It’s already your last day when Sunghoon picks up Yeji from school. She grumbles for the entire half-hour drive and all the way to the front door about why the two of you couldn’t have started the trip today instead of ending it, but all of her irritation dissolves when she sees you in the hallway, leaving the front door wide open to fling her arms around you. You and Yeji exchange compliments for a while — You look so pretty. No, you look so pretty. I love your hair. I love your hair. — as Sunghoon locks the door and watches with a smile.

“God.” Yeji sighs, holding you by the waist and craning her neck up to look at you, as you push some of her hair from her face, pinning back her wispy bangs with the palm of your hand. Yeji giggles. “I’m so happy you two are together, even though I have no idea what a girl like you sees in my loser brother.”

Sunghoon rolls his eyes, leaning back against the wall. Despite his mild irritation at Yeji’s words, he finds the sight of you with her so adorable his stomach flutters. Over the top of Yeji’s head, you look at him with a fond smile. “He’s not so bad.”

It doesn’t sound like a compliment, but Sunghoon takes it to heart.

Like always, Yeji manages to capture your undivided attention and the two of you giggle and whisper with each other all afternoon while Sunghoon watches, too enamoured by the sight to care about being left out. An hour or so passes like this, until his parents get home from work, excited to see Yeji after a few weeks, and you leave her side, coming to cuddle with Sunghoon instead.

It’s nice being home with everyone, laughing and sharing a meal before his family walks the two of you to his car with at least a month’s worth of cooked food for you to share at university. Yeji makes you pinky promise that she can visit you and waves with a pout on her face until the car is out of view.

Contrary to what he’d been expecting, the drive back is nice. Your playlist is on, and you’re telling him about all the new songs you added, catching him up on things with Chaewon and Yunjin, and all the things you got up to in the time you spent apart. You tell him about a new café that opened up near your place and how you’ll have to go together when he has the time, and Sunghoon bites his tongue before telling you that he always has time for you. The first half of the trip goes on like this but you start dozing off around the halfway mark, your sentences becoming few and far between, eventually turning into half-mumbled thoughts that end prematurely.

You’re still asleep when he reaches your flat, head propped up against the window with your soft lips parted, looking too pretty and cosy to wake up. Instead, he drives in circles around your block, deciding to wait for you to wake up on your own. It only takes a half-hour but you blink your eyes open, stretching your neck before looking around and out the car window, recognising the street. You don’t say anything, only smiling when you look at him, a small curve of your lips that makes his heart race.

He gets out of the car with you, opening the boot to get your bag before pulling you into his chest for a hug, liking the way your arms settle around his waist. “Thank you,” he mumbles into your hair.

Sunghoon doesn’t follow you when you take your bag from him, only watching from the back of his car. You don’t notice until you reach the main door, looking over your shoulder and frowning at him. “Aren’t you going to walk me up?”

The two of you walk in silence up four flights of stairs as the lift in your building is out of order. Your bag feels much heavier in his hand now than it did outside. At your door, he watches you dig around for your keys, sighing with relief when you find them.

“Do you want to come in?” you ask from your open doorway.

“I—uh—I have training in the morning and I’m already pretty tired, so..” He trails off.

Unfazed, you nod. “Right, of course. I had fun this week.”

“Yeah, me too.”

You smile at him, sweet and sincere. “Text me when you get home, yeah?”

Sunghoon nods, saying goodbye. Out of habit, he doesn’t leave your doorstep until he hears the lock click shut, and walks back to his car with his head down.

True to his word, he sends you a text to let you know he got back to his place safely and you read it immediately but don’t reply. It’s empty in the apartment, Jake is out with his football team and the space is larger than usual in his absence. Far too tired to even consider going out and joining him, Sunghoon goes through his night routine, putting his phone on the charger and stepping into the shower where he spends entirely too long wishing he could live in this week forever as he scrubs his body. With brushed teeth and damp hair, he goes back into his room where his phone lights up with a notification; a text, from you.

YN🫀: i’m glad you got home okay, i just got into bed :) i don’t want to make you uncomfortable or overstep or anything and you can say no (obviously).. i’ve been missing you so much and didn’t know how to reach out or if you wanted me to but i had soooo much fun this week and spending time with you again made me happy, so i’d like it if we could keep hanging out, like before yk? ik it’s a long shot ahahaha but just say you’ll think about it?

hoonie: You’re not overstepping at all, I’ve missed you too, so bad. I had soooo much fun this week as well and I’d like it a lot if we kept hanging out, thank you for agreeing and coming along 😚 If you’re free after Lit tmrw you could come over? Or we could go out and do something, whatever you prefer

hoonie: I missed you so much..

hoonie: 🤍

The texts greet you as the first rays of Monday morning light filter into your room, instantly lifting your mood. Your bright smile doesn’t escape Chaewon’s notice as you find her in the kitchen, bathed in the soft light seeping through the sheer curtains. The kettle is boiling with a loud rumble that fills the whole room and leaves her yelling as she speaks to you.

“Good trip?” she asks, coming over and hugging you. “Never leave me for that long again,” she mumbles into your shirt.

“It was a week, Wonie,” you say, rolling your eyes even though you missed her too.

She leans away, looking at you with knitted brows. “It was nine days.”

“The longest of my life.”

Chaewon pulls air through her teeth, tilting her head and releasing you. “That bad, huh?” she asks, walking back to her seat at your tiny square table and shooting you a look that tells you to join her.

During your trip, you gave her nightly updates over text, so you know she knows how much you enjoyed yourself, but you elaborate anyway, sitting across from her.

“No, not at all,” you say, shaking your head and trying to fight a smile. “I had fun.” As soon as the words leave your mouth, you have to bite your bottom lip to stop the grin curving them; it doesn’t work.

Chaewon raises a suggestive brow, crossing her arms over her chest. “How much fun?”

“You’re disgusting.”

“I didn’t even say anything!” she defends, holding her hands up. “I made an implication. It was only a matter of time, you two have that whole.. lifelong best friends to lifelong lovers thing going on, and it’s hot.”

“Shut up.”

“You’re telling me, you spent nine days playing lovers with Sunghoon and you still don’t want him? You’re a lost cause, people would kill for that chance,” she says, tilting her head. “I think I would kill for that chance.”

“Don’t touch him.”

“Oh?”

“Jesus, Chaewon, it’s not like that. Hoon’s too sensitive for your roster.”

“I never said it was like anything, you’re the one who’s dangling me over the ledge for saying I want to fuck your hot best friend.”

“Sunghoon isn’t hot; he’s..” You find yourself at a loss for words, unsure how to continue your lie. Of course, Sunghoon is hot, you’ve known since you were seventeen and spent the summer at your grandparents’ house, only to come back to find your previously scrawny best friend having ditched his LEGOs for dumbbells. You sigh. “Just leave him alone.”

Chaewon grins, eyes sparkling as she leaves the table. “Okay,” she says in a singsong voice, leaving you and the irritation in your stomach alone in the kitchen.

You sigh, pressing your eyes shut and trying to will away your discomfort. It’s not like Chaewon would actually try anything with Sunghoon. Right? Even if she did, it wouldn’t bother you, nor would it be any of your business. They’re grownups and reserve the right to explore their options. Still, there’s a nagging feeling you can’t shake, an uninvited guest in the back of your mind.

When you check your phone, you realise you have half an hour before you need to head to campus, so you leave to get ready and text Sunghoon back on the way to your room.

you: sounds good, see u later 🤍

After showering, you stand in front of your wardrobe, towel hanging from your body as you pick an outfit. For some reason, you feel under pressure, picking a pair of jeans that do the most for your ass and a low-cut top that Sunghoon once — drunkenly — said he loved on you.

You have the residual sting of mouthwash on your tongue, and one foot out the door when your phone vibrates in your hand.

hoonie: Do you want to head to class together?

you: sure! i’m omw out, where should i get you?

hoonie: .. I’m outside your building :D

Breathing a laugh through your nose, you don’t fight the giddy smile on your face as you make your way downstairs to meet Sunghoon. Through the glass in the main door, he’s standing at the edge of the pavement and kicking a stone between his feet. The top of his puffer jacket covers the bottom half of his face, and the draught nips your skin when the door opens. Two girls you vaguely recognise stumble in with smudged makeup and heels in their hands, smiling at you while holding the door to let you out.

“Hey!” you call out, jogging over to him.

Sunghoon turns around, his head poking out of his jacket to grin at you, holding a travel cup and an abundance of tinfoil in your direction.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d have eaten anything yet, you don’t normally in the morning,” he says, a sheepish smile spreading over his lips when you take it. “Matcha. Ham and cheese toastie.”

“Did you make these?” you ask, inspecting the familiar cup and appreciating the warmth it provides.

He hums, nodding his head.

You ignore the heat spreading over your cheeks and thank him with a hug, grinning when he offers to hold your drink while you eat on the walk. The toastie is still hot, the cheese coming close to burning your tongue as you chew, but you appreciate it wholeheartedly, humming contently with each bite. When you’re done, you shove the foil into your pocket, taking your drink from him and smiling around the sweet taste of a matcha latte as he tells you about his schedule for the day.

“I’m meeting with Coach after class to talk about my grades, but I’m all yours after that.”

“Talk about your grades? What’s wrong with your grades?”

Sunghoon groans, head falling back and highlighting the bump of his Adam’s apple. “My grades are.. I failed my coursework this month, so I have resubmissions during finals, and I think he’ll bench me if I fail again.”

He sounds like he’s being serious, and if the look on his face is anything to go by, he is. The news creases your brows because for as long as you remember, Sunghoon’s grades were your parents’ favourite point of comparison.

“Really?” you ask. He nods. “What’s up? Is something the matter?”

A humourless laugh slips out of him before he pulls air through his teeth. “Yeah, my best friend didn’t talk to me for three months.”

“Oh..” Guilt stirs your stomach as you look up at him. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not blaming you, it’s not like I was trying to talk and you ignored me.” He nudges your arm with his elbow, giving you a warm smile. “But if you feel as guilty about it as you look, you can tutor me for Lit.”

“Deal.”

Sunghoon grins, wrapping his arm over your shoulders and holding you close; the action itself isn’t unusual, but the increased heart rate it brings about is. “You’re too good to me,” he says, holding onto you for the rest of the walk to class.

At his request, you sit with Sunghoon in the back row, watching as the lecture hall gradually fills up in front of you. He seems well-prepared, with his laptop and a small notepad and pen neatly arranged on the desk in front of him.

Throughout the class, your eyes inadvertently track his every move. He diligently types up colour-coded notes, occasionally pausing to write things in his notepad before continuing to type or stopping entirely to listen. There’s something melodic about his actions and the way his fingers run over the keyboard.

During a five-minute break, you glance at his screen. What you find is more than just lecture content; it’s a document adorned with Sunghoon’s own musings about Hemingway’s style and carefully analysed quotations that go beyond the class discussion.

“How are your notes so good?”

“I picked up the book over the summer when you mentioned it,” Sunghoon replies with a shrug, a shy smile playing on his lips as he leans back in his seat. “I liked it.”

A slow nod is your response, though your thoughts swirl like autumn leaves in a breeze. The last time Sunghoon read for leisure, you were in primary school, buddy reading Diary of a Wimpy Kid. But this—this is different. You can’t help but stare at him, awestruck as you take him in. His eyes are wide, shining amber in the sunlight as he pushes some of his hair from his face, frowning when it falls back where it was.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he mumbles.

Sunghoon takes a new line in his document and points at the screen where you watch the cursor move through the words he’s typing: I would’ve read and annotated the Bible if you wanted me to..

There’s no time to digest what he wrote or the funny feeling in your chest as you reread it before he deletes the whole sentence, pressing his lips together and looking out the window. Speechless, you stare at his side profile, willing your heart rate to slip back to normal. Steep-sloping nose, plump lips flattened into a line, two points of the triangular mole constellation on his face. Analysis worsens your condition, breath hitching in your throat before stopping entirely. Warmth and trepidation blend within you, fuzzy enough at the edges to seem like one thing—a single force that makes your palm itch with desire, desperation, to reach out and run a finger over his features, feel the bump of the mole on his nose — the most prominent — against your skin.

You remain this way — silent, watching — even when your lecturer resumes the lesson, and Sunghoon starts typing, writing, and listening again. Polite enough to pretend he doesn’t notice your gaze searing into his face.

After class, and his meeting with Coach, you let Sunghoon lead the conversation and the way to your flat, where you find Chaewon and Yunjin sitting on the couch, whispering to themselves while the two of you study at the coffee table. It’s uncomfortable, an awkward height, too high for the way you’re sitting but you feel calm under the supervision of Chaewon and Yunjin—you won’t do anything to merit teasing in front of them, no matter how badly you want to feel Sunghoon’s face in your hands or stroke his cheekbones with your thumbs.

To the best of your ability, you answer the questions he has for you—he’d written a ton in his tiny notepad during class, his own concerns clear with each neatly-penned iteration of: How to see actions/dialogue for what they are and not what I want them to be? written in the margins and you try not to feel heartbroken for him.

Three hours have passed by when you walk him to the door, the two of you wrapped up in a bubble so secure you’re surprised to find Chaewon and Yunjin still sitting on the couch. They don’t say anything about Sunghoon in his absence, or the fact he’d given you his sweater when he noticed you were cold. You’re not sure why their silence disappoints you.

Instead, Yunjin asks you about trivial things like dinner while Chaewon sits in silence.

“What flavour for ice cream?” Yunjin asks, rolling her eyes when you tug on the blanket but not complaining. “And don’t say something ridiculous like mint chocolate, YN.”

“That happened once! And it was three years ago.. How was I supposed to know you hate fun?”

Chaewon leans into you, letting you curl your limbs around her from behind as you rest your chin on her shoulder, liking the way her clean scent tickles your nose.

“Mint-cho isn’t that bad,” she starts. “It’s a little jarring, sure, but it’s kind of sweet. Like watching people come to terms with their feelings for each other.”

You nod your head, humming in understanding and furrowing your brows when Yunjin scoffs, staring straight at you. Her tone is equal parts cutting and loving, so you know she’s not trying to insult you, but don’t know what she means when she says, “It must be so nice to be as oblivious as you.”

Yunjin never elaborates, and you never ask, actually feeling the statement’s journey in through one of your ears and out the other when dinner arrives. The three of you share pizza, ice cream, and secrets — the three pillars of 20-something-teenage-girlhood — at the kitchen table, with Chaewon sitting in your lap and picking pepperoni from your slices.

It’s only hours after Yunijn’s gone home, that her words circle back to you, the statement and all of its weight perching on your chest with all the debilitation and persistence of a sleep paralysis demon.

“I think I’m getting sick,” you say as soon as she opens her door. “It’s been coming on for a while now, at least a week, maybe more.”

Unimpressed and exhausted, Yunjin looks down at you through half-closed eyes. “Do you..” She pinches the bridge of her nose, sighing. “Do you have any idea what time it is right now?”

“Yes. It’s three a.m.”

“Exactly. See a doctor if you’re sick, I’m going back to sleep.”

“This is an emergen—” Yunjin cuts you off by pinching your lips together. “It’s three in the morning,” she reminds you. “You can’t yell like that in my hallway, come in.”

You nod, crossing the threshold and taking off your shoes next to hers. “Sorry,” you whisper when the door is closed.

Using her hand, Yunjin lifts your chin, squinting as her eyes adjust to the light when she flips the switch to inspect your face. “You don’t look or sound sick,” she mutters, flicking the light back off and going to her room. “What are your symptoms? And why did you come here?”

You don’t have an answer for her last question so you ignore it, following her and tripping over a pair of her shoes in the process. “My cheeks start burning like crazy and my heart races, sometimes it gets hard to breathe.”

“You seem fine to me.”

A shoulder-slumping sigh slips from your lips. “That’s the thing. I’ll be fine and then Sunghoon shows up with his pretty smile and perfect hair and I feel like I’ve run a marathon.” You know how it sounds, choosing your wording meticulously to let Yunjin be the one to say the words out loud instead of you—it’ll be easier to confront that way.

From the doorway, you watch as she arches a brow, her interest piqued. “Oh?”

“I know.” You nod, head bobbing rapidly in furious agreement. “It’s only a matter of time before I cough up a lung and die in his bedroom.”

At your words, Yunjin doesn't reply, only lifting her duvet and getting cosy underneath. You feel like you’re glued to the spot, waiting for her to say something, anything, but nothing comes. All she does is pat the empty spot in her bed.

“What are you smirking for?” you ask, entering the room properly and closing the door.

Her response only comes after you’ve taken your jacket and hoodie off, sitting next to her under the covers. “It’s nothing,” she says, laughing.

“Tell me.”

Yunjin sighs, resting a hand gently on your shoulder. You think it’s meant to be comforting but it’s the opposite. “You’ll be fine, I promise. Lovesickness isn’t deadly.”

Feeling the weight of her reassurance, you settle down properly and sigh when your head hits the pillow. Lovesickness. Hmm.

Closing your eyes, you try to sleep but can’t help tossing and turning as Yunjin snores behind you. You pat blindly around the end table for your phone, grabbing it and wincing at the brightness of your screen. Chewing on your lip, you open Google, looking up ‘lovesickness’ and frowning immediately at the results. Endless negativity fills the screen, terrifying words like ‘unrequited love’ forming a pit in your stomach. There’s nothing negative about what you feel for Sunghoon, nothing unrequited—you think.

It was obvious during the trip, painfully so. In the way he’d tuck your hair behind your ear when his parents weren’t there to see, or how he slipped up and called you ‘baby’ in the bathroom, blushing when you said it back. You can’t fake something like that.. Can you?

Yeonjun did.

Shaking your head, you open Instagram to distract yourself. Jake’s story comes up first; he’s at a party where Jay is losing a game of beer pong, and at the other end of the table is Sunghoon grinning with a bright red lipstick kiss on his cheek. You lock your phone, using your hands to press on your belly to stop the stirring.

Oh, you think. Lovesickness.

When you wake up, the first thing you do is check Jake’s story again. The video is still there and that terrible stir in your stomach churns on, burrowing deeply into a pit of canyon-like proportion—so vast there’s a safety railing lining its edges.

You eat breakfast in silence with Yunjin, zoning out mid-chew to figure out the origin of these feelings and how to handle them. Suddenly, the moment hits you clear as day, vivid like you’re watching it on a screen—it was your third night at his parents’ house, after your walk.

You felt bad about how you acted, and what you said, so went straight up to your room. With nothing but the bedside lamp turned on, it was dimly lit, shadows cast on the walls as you sulked, replaying everything in your head. Guilt wrapped its long arms around your body, making you feel sick as you thought about it all. About the hurt etched over his face with every word you said, and the frown that stuck around for the rest of the walk as his hand clung limply to yours.

There was a knock at the door, so gentle you almost missed it, and Sunghoon was standing there when you pulled it open, chewing on his lip with a mug in his hand. Steam skated over the opening, a rich chocolatey smell hitting your nose but the real kicker was the mug itself. In its place on Jake and Sunghoon’s mug tree, it was unassuming, a regular white mug, but upon meeting hot water, the face of young Sunghoon appeared, grinning with his tiny glasses on. It was a gift from one of his old coaches and though he never used it, it was your absolute favourite cup in the world.

You felt soft around the edges when you looked up at him, his eyes wide and unsure as you met his gaze—he brought that mug three hours across the country so you could use it again. The thought shifted your heart into a comfortable position, settling in your chest with overwhelming warmth and an increased rate.

“Hi,” you said, clearing your throat.

“Hi,” he repeated, holding the mug out for you to take. “It’s still hot so be careful.”

Nodding, you covered your hands with your sleeves, taking the cup from him and asking if he wanted to come in. Sunghoon nodded, shutting the door behind him and standing by the bed, watching you set the hot chocolate on the bedside table as you sat down. The two of you stayed like that for a while, with him only moving when you patted the spot next to you on the duvet. Your train of thought escaped you as soon as he sat down, the warmth of his familiar fresh, citrusy scent taking over and becoming the only thing you could register. The smell of summers with him, long days at the beach and short nights spent on the couch at random parties, cuddled into his side with his arm over your shoulders. The smell you’d come to associate with comfort and home—with Sunghoon.

“It’s not fair for me to treat you like shit just because I’m annoyed, I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that earlier. I’m sorry.”

A crease ran over Sunghoon’s thick brows as they tugged together, he shook his head. “You don’t have to apologise. I roped you into this whole thing and didn’t even try to think about how you would feel. I’m sorry.” His eyes carried a mix of regret and sincerity, mirroring the weight of his words.

“Anyway, I only came to bring you that,” he said, pointing at the cup. “And to check up on you, I’ll get out of your hair for tonight.” Sunghoon wiped his palms on his pants before standing up, reaching behind him to pick up the cloth he brought. For a moment, he stood there, staring down at it in his hand while you thought about telling him to stay, telling him that you wanted him in your hair—whatever that meant. But he spoke before you had the chance. “You left this, at mine, after.. well, you know. I’m sure you left it intentionally, I mean it was folded up perfectly on the end of my bed, so I know you did, but it didn’t feel right keeping it, you always wore it more than me.”

Sunghoon extended his hand, holding it out to you and you knew exactly what it was as soon as the fabric touched your skin after so long. It was the shirt Jay bought him for Christmas in first year—they were roommates still trying to get a feel for each other. For a few weeks, Sunghoon had been pestering you about what he should get for Jay, saying it didn’t feel right not to get him anything, and you suggested a targeted t-shirt, one you’d been laughing at all day after seeing an ad for it on your timeline. Sunghoon was sceptical, but bought the red shirt anyway, hoping Jay would find BEING DAD IS AN HONOUR, BEING PAPA IS PRICELESS funny. He did. And Jay bought Sunghoon a targeted shirt too, your favourite. It was black and two sizes too big, with I NEVER DREAMED I’D BE A SEXY FIGURE SKATER BUT HERE I AM KILLING IT written over the chest.

“Goodnight, YN,” Sunghoon said, crossing the room to leave but hesitating before closing the door. He poked his head through the opening and sighed. “I really am sorry.”

That night, you fell asleep in the shirt, the thinning, yet cosy, fabric wrapped around you like a hug as your heart started to beat a new rhythm, one that eerily echoed the five-foot-eleven figure skater who you let break it.

This morning, Yunjin claps her hands in your face, seeming irritated when you look over at her. “You have class in an hour, what are you doing?” Before you have the chance to speak, realisation covers her face. “Oh, the feelings.”

You nod solemnly, too caught up in the butterflies raiding your stomach to come up with something to say.

At lightspeed, you scarf down the rest of your food, apologising for showing up so late as you head out the door. When you get home, you take the fastest shower of your life and feel grateful Chaewon isn’t around to tease you about the smile you can’t wipe from your face thinking about Sunghoon—you’ll text her later.

You run to campus, feeling the brisk autumn wind beating against your face while the rest of your body overheats under your jacket, hoodie and long sleeve. Despite the discomfort and ache in your lungs, you don’t stop until you reach the door of your lecture hall, huffing and puffing into the faces of classmates who don’t take any notice. Of course, in a stroke of pure luck, your lecturer is late, and you realise bitterly, that all of your huffing and puffing was in vain—you would have gotten to class with time to spare even if you walked.

It’s not a total waste though; you use the time to update Chaewon.

you: i have news wonie.. i like sunghoon

wonie: …………….. fork in the kitchen yn what’s the news?

wonie: OHHHH news to YOU.. can i call?

She calls you immediately. You answer without thinking because your lecturer still hasn’t arrived, and there’s no one sitting close enough to hear or notice you taking a call.

“Are you going to tell him?!” Chaewon’s voice is so loud you wince, pulling the phone away from your ear.

“I don’t know.” You shrug even though she can’t see you, still holding the device at a distance just in case. “I don’t have any confirmation that he still.. likes me. It’s been a while, and I was pretty mean that day.

Chaewon groans and you can picture her throwing herself onto her bed, exasperated. The rustling that comes through the receiver only frames the image, hanging it up. “Did you have to tell him to get a grip?”

“You know..” You trail off, chewing on your bottom lip. “In hindsight, probably not.”

A beat passes, she’s thinking. “Don’t worry,” she says. “I’ll help you.”

“I.. have never been so worried in my life.” You sigh, picking at your freshly painted nails. “But I know you’ll do something no matter what I say, so do what you want, Wonie, but please be subtle about it.”

Chaewon squeals down the phone. “I love youuuuu!” And it’s the last thing she says before kissing the mic a few times and hanging up.

Slumping in your seat, you don’t have any time to stress about Chaewon’s plans because your lecturer walks in, with a travel cup in her hand and a paperback tucked under her arm.

She apologises for being late, running a hand through her hair as she announces that you’ll be watching a film, an adaptation of a book you read at the start of term—Ian McEwan’s Atonement. You spend the first hour of the movie falling in and out of sleep until a text comes through from Sunghoon, and sheer excitement keeps you up.

hoonie: Wanna study together after class?

you: of course!!!!!!

hoonie: 🤍

The rest of the movie goes by in a drag, and you come away from it with a mild irritation towards Saoirse Ronan.

you: class just finished, heading to lib rn

hoonie: Shit, still in the locker room, sorry !!! Omw, can you get a table?

you: i’ll try..

It takes a while but you find an empty booth on the second floor, and set your bag on the plush green seat to take pictures of your surroundings to send to Sunghoon. You sit on the side facing the stairs so he can see you when he arrives. The thought of seeing him makes your heart race and you try out a few natural-seeming poses for when he’s here, cycling between resting your palm under your chin and sitting with your arms crossed a few times until the top of his head comes into view.

Seeing him knocks the wind out of you as he approaches the staircase, taking them two at a time with his damp hair clinging to his forehead and neck. It doesn’t help that he’s wearing a tight black vest, and his sweats are hanging low on his hips. A breath you didn’t realise you were holding slips out when he lifts his head, spotting you immediately as a grin spreads over his lips and he raises his arm to wave, the veins in his forearm peeking out to say hi too. You can’t tell if it’s his lack of winter wardrobe or your newfound appreciation for him that’s making his biceps look so huge but it’s hard to look away, even when he reaches the table.

“Are you hot?” you blurt out.

Sunghoon laughs, raising a brow and something about the way he’s looking down at you makes your cheeks burn. “Depends who’s asking.” He takes his backpack off, leaving it on the table as he sits down, dumping his jacket and hoodie in a pile beside him.

“I’m asking,” you mumble.

“Then, yeah, I’d hope so.”

Is he flirting? It sounds like he’s flirting. Flirt back! “Nice arms.”

He looks down at his biceps for a beat before looking at you warily. “Are you flirting with me?” He can’t fight the smile twitching at the corners of his lips but he tries his best, pressing them into a straight line.

“A little. They are nice though,” you admit.

Sunghoon grins. “Thanks, I’ve had them for a while now.”

You can’t come up with anything to say, too distracted by the way his smile reaches his eyes, lighting up his whole face and forcing a flustered heat to spread over your cheeks and neck. It’s only when you look away from him that you remember what you’re here for. It’s a study date, not a study date—there’s a difference.

You hand Sunghoon the material you’d printed for him over the weekend, excerpts from texts you’d studied in class, so he can practise close reading and proper citation. As he makes his way through them, you can’t help stealing glances, smiling at the way his tongue sticks out a little while he focuses, or how he twirls his pen in his fingers while he’s thinking. You aren’t making the best use of your time together, copying out the slides from class yesterday, but you can’t help noticing the way he watches you when he thinks you can’t see. The small smile on his face while he does so only flusters you, an odd weakness settling in your knees as your cheeks heat up.

After a while, Sunghoon sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Could you stop watching me?”

“If you noticed me watching, that means you’re watching me.”

He shrugs, chewing on his lip. “Well, yeah. I’m always watching you,” he says like it’s a given. “But you don’t normally watch back, it’s distracting.”

“You’re distracting.”

A playful smile curves his lips as he arches a brow, smugness painting his face. “Am I?”

Too scared to verbalise your response, you nod slowly, hoping you don’t look as wound up as you feel.

Sunghoon’s eyes flick over your face, flashing with something you don’t recognise. At least not from him. He sits back in his seat, assessing you and eventually shaking his head.

“You know,” he says, eyes glowing with something you do recognise: cockiness. “If my sexy arms are getting to you that much, I can always put my hoodie back on. Wouldn’t want my little tutor getting distracted, would I?”

Oh.

Your stomach turns with want, mind reeling from his tone and the way his gaze lands on your lips. Sighing, you roll your eyes and try to seem unaffected. “Sunghoon, I never said your arms were sexy.”

His phone starts to go off, buzzing against the table and he turns it over immediately, screen down on the surface as he shifts his focus back to his work. He chews on his lip while he does, eyes flicking back and forth between his phone and the words on the page. Curious, you lean over the table, elbows propped up as you rest your chin in your hands. He doesn’t spare you or his phone, which vibrates another four times, a glance.

“Are you going to get that?”

Sunghoon shakes his head. “It’s nothing.”

You hum, letting just enough curiosity seep into the sound that he’ll elaborate without being asked to. It doesn’t take long for him to deliver.

“It’s just Chaewon,” he says, running his hand through his hair and lifting his head. Sunghoon smiles. “We’ve been texting a lot these days.”

“Cool.” You nod a few times, aiming for nonchalance but hitting bobblehead as you wait for him to continue. He doesn’t, only humming in response, nodding too.

After a beat, he picks up his phone, angling it just high enough that you can’t see the screen. He reads the messages, an exhaled laugh coming from his nose as the tips of his ears redden—Fuck. This is worse than you thought.

Chaewon’s commitment to girl code runs deep—she’s been rebuffing Jake since first year when she overheard a girl she’d never seen before telling her friends she thought he was cute. So you know without having to read the texts that nothing she’s saying is even remotely flirty, you can smell the auto-caps and use of the word ‘buddy’ from across the table.

What you hadn’t counted on, however, was the potential for Sunghoon’s feelings to shift. If they really have been texting more, can you rule out the possibility that he might like.. her? Chaewon is a catch, beyond a catch, and you’d already turned Sunghoon down. Brutally. Of course, he’d move on, he has moved on.

The rest of the study session is spent manifesting, writing Park Sunghoon over and over in the back of your notebook. You fill three pages while brainstorming ways to snatch a lock of his hair until he suggests that the two of you call it a day. He walks you home, telling you about how Jake’s been bribing him with food to get a ride to the LEGO store across town for the new Marvel set.

“With or without the meals, I would’ve taken him, but his ramen is my favourite, so..” Sunghoon says, climbing the last step of your building and holding the door open for you. “He even brought a slice of tiramisu to the rink for me after practice.”

“You’re terrible,” you say, frowning up at him as you search for your keys. “Do you want to come in?”

Sunghoon chuckles, shaking his head. “I have a meeting with one of my lecturers soon, I’d have to leave in—” He pauses, rolling up the sleeve of his jacket to check the time. “—eight minutes.”

“I’m cool with that if you are,” you mumble, suddenly shy.

A bright smile spreads over his lips and he nods, following you in.

Chilled by the harsh wind, the only thing on your mind is a hot drink as you lead Sunghoon to the kitchen. He shakes his head when you offer him one, sitting on the countertop and exhaling into his palms before rubbing them together. You can’t help but frown at the sight, feeling guilty that you can’t change the weather to suit him. At your thought process, your brows raise. Wow, you think. Is this who you are?

You busy yourself with the selection of hot drinks you and Chaewon have accumulated, eyeing each container from top to bottom. A purple tub of Cadbury’s hot chocolate that you’re sure is on the brink of expiration, coffee—sachets of the instant stuff you’ve grown to like since leaving home, Earl grey from one of many brands, or the fancy silk tea bags Chaewon’s mum brought home from a trip—rooibos or plum-apple-cinnamon.

Craving something sweet, you settle for hot chocolate, pulling the heavy container from the cupboard next to Sunghoon’s head and setting it beside your cup. He’s on his phone, scrolling too fast to take in anything he’s seeing and he shakes his head when you ask if he wants something to drink.

On the dish rack, Chaewon’s mug catches your eye, so you pick it up to dry it off and put it down next to yours. “I’m going to check if Wonie wants any,” you say, wiping imaginary crumbs from the counter onto the floor.

Sunghoon only clears his throat, shaking his head. “She’s not home, one of her acrylics popped off so she’s at the shop waiting for a cancellation.”

The information itself isn’t jarring but hearing it from Sunghoon is. You put on what you hope is a neutral smile and nod, taking milk from the fridge and assembling your drink on autopilot while thinking of ways to redirect the conversation.

“If you knew you’d have to go back to campus so soon, why’d you walk me home?” you ask, watching your cup spin in the microwave. “I could’ve walked on my own.”

Sunghoon is already looking at you when you turn your head, his cheeks puffed out with air as he blinks slowly. Because I love you, is what you hope he’ll say. You think you need him to say it.

“Because you don’t have to do anything on your own when you have me,” he says instead, and it’s infinitely better.

The words seep through your every fibre, his intonation and lucid affection making a home for themselves in your heart, spreading warmth from head to toe. Your smile becomes a radiant grin, only brightening when he shakes his head, smiling down at his feet.

Sunghoon hugs you in the kitchen when it’s time for him to leave, his arms holding you tight to his chest as he rocks you back and forth. You inhale his scent, all warm citrus under freshly washed cotton and something exclusive to him.

Wiping the smile from your face feels impossible. You don’t let go when he does, and a sweet laugh — a giggle, you think — tumbles out of him as he mumbles that he really has to go. Still, you cling onto him, taking clumsy steps backwards, with your arms locked around his waist, to your front door, smiling as you watch him put his shoes on.

“You don’t have to walk me downstairs, honestly,” he says, looking down at you in the doorway.

“I want to.”

His lips quirk up at the corners, a full smile breaking through and causing your stomach to flutter with so much force you’re sure it’s visible through your shirt. His eyes fall to your lips, lingering, before he clears his throat, looking away.

“I’ll text you when I get to the door, promise.”

You lock your pinky with his. “Send a selfie, just so I know it’s you and not someone else using your phone.”

Sunghoon’s head falls back in a laugh. “Should I just call you? That way you can make sure I get back to uni in one piece.”

You nod.

“That wasn’t anything with Chaewon earlier, I just needed advice on some girl stuff..” He trails off, searching your eyes. It’s obvious that he’s telling the truth, that he wants you to believe him. You do. “I wasn’t sure if that was something I could talk about with you.”

Girl stuff. Hmm. You try not to read too much into it and look at the bigger picture instead—your best friend is going through something and doesn’t feel like he can come to you about it.. You squeeze his pinky reassuringly, a flutter in your stomach when he smiles.

“You can talk to me about anything,” you say, meaning it.

Sunghoon presses his lips together, humming and unlinking your fingers. “Next time,” he says after a beat, waving at you.

You shut the door, locking it while watching through the peephole, he leaves as soon as the lock clicks shut. In the kitchen, your hot chocolate is cooling down, and your phone rings in your back pocket. Sunghoon’s calling.

Hanging out with Sunghoon. Making sure he sticks to the time-blocked schedule you made for him. Quizzing him on biology terms until he gets restless. If the last two weeks were an episode of Family Feud, those would be the top three answers to the question: Name something YN is doing right now.

Thankfully tonight, it’s the first one.

You’ve been sitting on the couch for so long, Jake has both left for football practice and arrived from football practice. Conversation ebbs and flows—an hour or so of nonstop talking, followed by another hour or so of comfortable near silence.

It’s during a quiet hour that Sunghoon sits up straight, clearing his throat before saying, “Let me ask you something. He retreats to the other side of the couch, turning to face you with his whole body. “I don’t want things to be weird after I ask, so no matter what your answer is, I won’t bring it up or ask again.”

Arching a curious brow, you nod. “You can ask me anything,” you say, meaning it.

Sunghoon’s face is impressively blank—minus the motion of sharp teeth worrying plush lip, there’s absolutely nothing behind his eyes that seem to stare right through you.

Eventually, he asks, “Can I kiss you?” He says more. Big, scary words like for closure and moving on, but they don’t register. They don’t matter.

Your heart pounds at the base of your throat as you find interest in your hands that sit in your lap. Even without looking at him, you can’t get over the slight crease he had in his brow and the slight tremor in his hands.

“For closure,” you repeat, though your voice doesn’t sound like it’s coming from you, muffled under the thump of your heart.

Sunghoon nods. “For closure.”

A humourless laugh sneaks past your throat as you look at him. You shouldn’t have. In the lamplight, Sunghoon is golden and glorious. Warm light casts one side of his face, diffusing gently over the steep slope of his nose, highlighting his moles and the look in his eyes, gentle and curious all at once. Unwillingly, your gaze falls to his lips, parted, tempting.

One firm nod of your head brings Sunghoon’s hand to your face, his palm cupping your cheek with soft skin as his thumb traces your cheekbone. You grow anxious under his stare, under the drag of his eyes over your features, taking them one at a time like he’s committing them to memory.

Leaning in, your eyes flutter shut as your lips meet his and he freezes, mouth completely still on yours. Delicately, your tongue traces the seam of his lips, soft and plump, until they part for you, moving with yours. Sunghoon’s kiss is unpolished when it reaches you. It’s hesitant but tender, clumsy but sweet, he’s trying and he’s perfect; your favourite.

The kiss is.. it’s everything. It’s the racing of your heart, the thudding, the vibrant buzz you can hear, feel humming against your ears. It’s a rush of blood to the head, a lightness all over that pulls you out of your body. It’s Sunghoon’s soft lips curving into a smile against yours, his gentle hold on your face never letting up as he holds you as close as he can manage, and it’s every bit as lovely as the rest of him.

Palpable is the heartbeat of your friendship, beating to a lull under the surface of the kiss, fizzling out into nothing, a steady silence, flatlining to give way to something more, something bigger.

Every brush of your lips against his is a revelation, a confession. You’re all I’ve ever wanted, you tell him with your kiss. You’re everything I need. His free hand finds yours, locking your fingers and squeezing, the action timed well enough to make you think he hears you, to make you think he’s saying, we’ll be okay, I still love you.

With that, he pulls away, a delicate tension piercing the air. Blown eyes and laboured breathing—he’s beautiful, fuzzy around the edges with warm orange and all of the love in your heart. Breathless, you chew on your lip, cognisant of Sunghoon’s hand in yours and the sparkle in his eyes as he looks at you.

Belatedly, you squeeze his hand back, smiling. “Was it everything you ever dreamed of?” you whisper, part teasing, all curious.

Abruptly, Sunghoon stands up, letting go of you in the process. “I have to go.”

You want to stop him, you think you’re supposed to. To grab him by the arm and kiss him again, to yell in his face that you love him until he understands. But you don’t. Instead, you stay seated, staring at Sunghoon’s back and following him with your eyes out of the room and down the hall until he’s out of sight.

It’s your first time being so upset after a kiss, and you can’t tell if it’s his leaving or the mention of him moving on that’s tripping you up so much. That’s causing melancholy to crawl from the shadows, sinking its jagged nails into your skin to pull you under.

You love him. He’s gone.

Eyes stuck on the doorway, time stretches over the room around you, thick and malleable, wet and cloying—clay stuck under your nails for days as the fire in the kiln rages on.

Sighing, you get up and wait at his door. You ball your hand into a limp fist, knocking weakly. Sunghoon doesn’t reply. You try again, harder. Still nothing.

Barging into the room, you find him sitting on the end of his bed with his face in his hands.

“Don’t move on.” The words come out before you realise and Sunghoon lifts his head, squinting at you.

“Huh?” He tilts his head, watching closely as you approach him, tipping it back enough to meet your eyes when you stand over him.

You take a breath, holding it until your head starts to spin. “I don’t want you to love someone else, Sunghoon. Please don’t move on.”

The stillness that follows is disconcerting, a long quiet you can feel on your skin, amplifying the blank stare on his face as he looks up at you. His eyes flash, a spark of hope behind them so bright it stings to look at.

“Do you..” He trails off, his lips moving to form the next word though stopping short.

“I do,” you whisper, nodding. “I’m sorry for taking so long.”

An exhaled laugh comes from his nose as he grins, shaking his head. “You like me?” he asks, excitement and disbelief fighting for authority over his voice, his hands holding your waist and pulling you down into his lap.

“I love you,” you admit, settling on his thighs.

“You do?” His eyes are wide and gleaming, searching every feature on your face before settling on your own.

You nod. “So much.”

Sunghoon’s chin tips up, his lips pressing against yours, excited pecks that can’t turn into much more for the smiles on your faces. You rest your arms on his shoulders, hands clasping behind his head, nervous fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“So.. will you be my boyfriend? For real?”

Tilting his head, he tries and fails to fight a smile. “I will. I’m a little bummed though.”

“Why?” You raise a brow, and the word tips up at the end with it.

“I wanted to be the one to ask you.” Sunghoon’s honesty warms the room, endearing you completely.

You grin, loving the heat spreading over your cheeks. “Ask me anyway.”

“Please can I be your boyfriend?”

In the weeks that followed, it became immediately clear that boyfriend Sunghoon operated on a pendulum swinging between sexual ferality and terror. He’d get distracted during study sessions at home, finding more interest in biting at your neck than stream-of-consciousness prose, but closed his eyes if a sex scene came on TV. He’d buck his hips against yours while making out but flinch at the sight of condoms in the store.

He wasn’t ready to have sex and didn’t know how to tell you, so you took matters into your own hands, asking if you could wait until after his results for resubmission came in, saying you didn’t want the distraction for either of you. Sunghoon agreed, pecking your cheek and holding you tight to his chest.

The only thing was that your lecturer hadn’t given him an exact date, so every morning, you held your phone in a vice grip waiting for Sunghoon to update you, and every morning, you got the same text: Nothing today, baby ☹️

This morning, you’re brushing your teeth when he texts you, in all caps: NO FUCKING WAY I GOT A 98 !!! LOOK !!!

When the picture comes through, it’s of him in the mirror and you choke on mouthwash at the sight. He’s smiling, bright and beautiful, in a black vest that he’s holding up a little to show his stomach, though his palm is in the way of his toned abs, and it cuts off right at the top of his grey sweatpants.

Your mouth goes dry as you click on it, fixating on every little detail you can find: the thickness of his fingers against his phone, the dip in his collarbones, the breadth of his shoulders and the cinch of his waist. In a fit of desperation, you try swiping at the bottom of your screen, willing the picture to magically extend. It doesn’t.

hoonie: Finger slipped.. You like?

you: mm..

you: 98??? HOLY SHIT, LOOK AT YOU!!!

hoonie: All you.. do you like the picture?

you: i love it………….

hoonie: My girl 🤍

Another picture comes in, and sure enough, through the glare of his laptop screen, you see: Course name: The Modernist Movement: Joyce, Woolf, and Hemingway. Marks Awarded: 98.0.

you: well done baby !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

hoonie: Thx 😁

hoonie: Can I have my prize now ha ha .. haha 😈

you: just for that emoji, no you absolutely cannot.

Your resolve isn’t strong enough when it comes to Sunghoon, because purple devil emoji and all, you show up at his door with condoms in your bag and a bouquet of lilies behind your back.

The door creaks open and Sunghoon greets you with a grin. “Hey, gorgeous. You proud of me?”

You beam at him, holding out the flowers. “I’m very proud, Hoon, well done.”

“I don’t want to ruin the moment,” he starts, taking the bouquet from your hands and sniffing the flowers with an approving smile. “But hearing you say you’re proud of me is awakening something I didn’t know existed.”

“A good something?”

“Mm,” he hums, arms finding your waist before he pecks your lips. “A very good something.”

Sunghoon’s words hit your lips and your core, a desperate heat flooding your stomach as he kisses you deeply, his body pressed tightly against yours while he pulls you into his apartment. He kicks the door shut with his foot, slipping his hand under your jacket to settle in your back pocket, not quite squeezing but holding your ass as gently as he can manage.

He breaks away from you, love in his eyes as he stares down into yours, catching his breath. “I don’t think we own a vase.”

In his kitchen, you rifle through cupboards to find something to hold the flowers, eventually finding a whiskey decanter in the cupboard under the sink, and holding it up for Sunghoon to see.

“Oh, yeah,” he says. “It’s Jay’s. It’ll work right?”

You nod, taking it to the sink to rinse it. Sunghoon wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder watching you fill the decanter with water and flower food before grabbing the bouquet. He presses open-mouthed kisses to your neck and you struggle to stay focused as you cut down the stems on the flowers, arranging them neatly.

“Can I take a photo?” he asks when you’re done.

He’s smiling when you turn around to look at him, a soft curve of his lips that makes your heart race, a deep tenderness in his eyes when you meet them. You smile too.

“They’re yours, baby, do whatever you want.”

“A photo of you with the flowers,” he clarifies.

Warmth settles in your chest, a grin spreading over your lips from ear to ear. You nod, taking the decanter in your hands when he lets go of you, holding the flowers up beside your face and smiling for his camera. As his phone shutter clicks away, you steal glances at his face behind it. He’s watching the screen with a smile, telling you how beautiful you are.

“I want pictures of you too,” you say, handing the flowers over.

“I’m yours, baby, do whatever you want.”

Sunghoon poses for your photos, smiling sweetly in some and sniffing the bouquet appreciatively with closed eyes for others. He’s glowing and he’s beautiful and your heart triples in size while taking picture after picture until your phone tells you it has ten percent.

“Thank you, YN,” he says. “I’ve never gotten flowers before, I love them.” His arms settle around your waist, lips pressing against yours before you have the chance to respond.

You try anyway, mumbling against his lips that you love him. In response, Sunghoon grins, but the feeling of his cock growing hard against you is distracting, a lust-coated thorn in the side of the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. With locked lips and uncertain steps, the two of you bump into corners and trip over your own feet, stumbling to his room and parting only to tear his hoodie over his head.

Breathless, you pull away, eyes trailing over him and picking up on everything, from the tremble in his hands to the lust-addled worry in his eyes. He’s nervous, you think—though it escapes you, the last word coming out like a question.

Sunghoon scoffs, his hands resting on your waist under your shirt, skin clammy against yours. “Of course, I’m nervous.”

“You don’t have to be.”

“I just want to be good for you.”

“Don’t worry about that, let me take care of you, Hoon.” Your palms drag up his torso — firm abs through soft cotton, defined chest over racing heart — to rest on his shoulders. “Sit,” you say when he nods.

He gulps, taking a seat on the end of his bed under your gentle push, eyes widening when you sink to your knees between his legs and reach for his drawstring, pulling the ends to untie the knot.

“Wait,” Sunghoon says, breathless, scrunching up his face and dropping his head. “Let me calm down, baby. At this rate, I’ll come just seeing your hand on it.”

You giggle, resting your head on his thigh and wrapping the drawstring around your finger.

“I’m serious, YN,” he mumbles, laughing as he takes his vest off. “I need a minute.”

Sunghoon’s eyes are pressed shut as he tries to collect himself, lips pouty and kiss-bitten, slightly parted with ragged breaths slipping out. You wait patiently for him. He’s so pretty like this, with the crease in his brow and the pretty pink flush dusting his cheeks as his chest rises and falls. You can’t help but smile, leaning into his touch when his hand rests on top of your head, his blunt nails grazing your scalp. After a while, he seems more at ease, his eyes finding yours and he smiles shyly, telling you he’s ready now and lifting his hips from the bed to let you pull his sweats and underwear down.

Free from the constraints of fabric, his cock slaps his stomach with a wet sound as the tip meets his skin, leaving a pearlescent streak over his abs. The sight makes your mouth water and you can’t look away. “Pretty,” you whisper.

Wrapping a hand under his tip, you swipe it with your thumb, taking time to memorise the flutter of his eyelids, the bobbing of his Adam’s apple, and the soft sigh he lets out. You stroke him slowly, liking the way his breath picks up as his brows knit together before you take him in your mouth. It’s a tight fit but you do your best, spurred on by the way he tugs at your hair and stutters through a holy fuck as you take as much of him as you can.

Sunghoon goes silent, only squirming when you use your hand to stroke him near his base. Self-conscious about his lack of vocal affirmation, you look up at him through your lashes, and the pure bliss on his face is unbearably attractive. His eyes are rolled back under furrowed brows, his mouth hanging open as he throws his head back.

“Am I doing okay?” you ask, using the moment to catch your breath.

He nods, inhaling shakily and screwing his eyes shut while his hips buck up into your fist. “I’m.. You’re doing such a good job, baby, so good.”

Satisfaction courses through you from the praise, a high that dulls the ache in your jaw. Still watching him, you massage his balls in your palm, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his tip when he whines. You tongue at his slit until he thrusts back into your mouth, tip hitting your throat, and he gasps when you gag, his arm coming up to cover his eyes. A belated apology slips from his lips, mumbled as he strokes your hair with a shaking hand and goes quiet again. When you speed up, his breath stutters, the muscles in his thighs contracting around your head as you suck and lick and drool on his cock.

A moan of your name, and his hand holding your hand down, are the only warnings you get before Sunghoon comes, spilling his load right down your throat. Whining, his hips buck up against your face, pushing further and further until he falls back onto the mattress.

Your throat is hoarse and aches while you use the back of your hand to wipe at your lips, enjoying what’s left of his taste on your tongue. Deep red tints his neck and chest, a pretty flush gleaming under the sheen of sweat on his skin. He’s mesmerising, as he tries for air through swollen lips and looks up at you through squinted eyes. He reaches for you, cute grabby hands tugging your shirt and pulling you down so you’re lying next to him with your head on his chest.

“You’re amazing, baby, so good for me,” Sunghoon whispers, eyes fluttering shut as you drag your nails over his torso, feeling the subtle heave of the slick, sculpted muscle over his stomach and chest.

Pride heats your chest, satisfaction rolling over you like a wave. “Really?”

He hums in affirmation, nodding his head.

“You were so quiet, I couldn’t really tell,” you add, hungry for more praise.

“The walls are so thin in here, I just got used to being quiet,” Sunghoon says, frowning. Hand meeting your chin, he tips your head up towards him, pressing a soft kiss to your lips and mumbling, “I’m sorry. You were perfect, I swear.”

It’s a sweet kiss. Until lips move harder and hands get lower, desperate as he thumbs the top of your leggings, palm unmoving but a dangerous heat blooms in your stomach anyway.

“Can I..” Sunghoon pinches you softly through the material, unsure eyes boring deep into yours.

You nod. “You can.”

Slipping under your waistband, his fingers skate across your skin dipping between your thighs. He grazes your slit, satisfaction clear in the groan he lets out as he feels the wetness there, pulling it over the length of your slit to cover your clit. Your breath hitches, a strangled gasp, pleasure and surprise meeting in your throat under the pressure of his thumb on your clit, the gentle sting of his finger pushing into you.

What Sunghoon lacks in experience, he makes up for with the sheer length and thickness of his fingers. It’s almost jarring, it’s enough to force your eyes closed and bring a sigh rumbling out of you, ache and relief settling between your legs, where he curls a finger against your walls and drags slow circles over your clit.

“Can you take these off, baby?” he asks, hand away to touch your leggings.

You don’t waste a second, sitting up to pull them off, throwing them and your underwear across the room. Sunghoon licks his lips, tugging at the hem of your shirt.

“And this? If you want..”

You nod, pulling it off immediately to let it join the rest of your clothes in a heap on the floor. The way he gulps is a confidence boost, his dilated pupils taking in every inch of your body, though his gaze always pulls back to your bra—white and lacy, thin enough for your nipples to push through the fabric and Sunghoon can’t seem to get enough, though he waits until you’re lying down again to touch you.

Sunghoon props himself up on his elbow, leaning over you. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, dragging a finger over the lace at the top of your bra, toying with the material and the little bow sitting between your breasts. His eyes flick up to meet yours. “So beautiful,” he repeats.

Hiding your face in his chest, you mumble, “Thank you,” into his skin while trying to ignore the heat spreading over your body wherever he touches you. His hand trails from your arm to your waist, resting on your hips to slip over your ass for a beat, where he grabs and squeezes the flesh there before coming back around to slot between your legs—you lift one of them, resting it over his body, and he’s smiling sweetly when you look up at him.

Sunghoon’s movements are unchanging, though the sensation is heightened by the unbridled desire in his lidded eyes that urges white heat to lick over every inch of your skin—this time he pushes two fingers into you.

It doesn’t get better than this, you think. But it does, quickly.

Leaning over you, his eyes flick across your face, one feature at a time as he chews on his lip. Reaching up, you push some of his hair from his face, holding it back and saying, “Relax, baby.”

“Don’t want to hurt you.”

Moving your hand, you blink when his hair flops back over his forehead, tickling your eyelashes. His eyes are focused now, staring straight down into yours, want and worry flashing behind them.

“You won’t, I promise,” you say, locking your pinky with his, feeling relieved when he smiles.

Sunghoon pushes in slowly, his name slipping from your lips when he exhales shakily, head falling forward. The sting, the pleasure, make it hard to breathe, molten desire taking hold of your lungs as he carves out a place for himself as far as you’ll take him, all the way to the hilt as slow as he can manage.

A moan tears out of him, lewd and whiny as his hair tickles your collarbone, head falling into the crook of your neck. His skin is hot and damp against yours, his breath burning your shoulder as he tries to calm down. It’s difficult to register much else, tethered only by the sound of his voice when he asks, “Am I hurting you?”

“Hoon,” you whisper.

“Can you look at me, baby?” He lifts his head, resting a hand on your cheek. You blink your eyes open, gaze locking with his, where concern pushes through his desire. “Am I hurting you?” he asks again. “Are you okay?”

You nod. “I’m okay, just..” You sigh. “Full. Need a minute.”

Sunghoon kisses you, lips moving gently with yours, passing breathy whines between your mouths until you feel yourself relaxing. Pulling his plush bottom lip between yours, you suck on it, nodding. “Want you to move, baby,” you mumble.

He scans your face, eyes meeting yours as he pulls his hips back. He’s slow, so slow with his thrusts that your belly turns with want, your fingernails sink into the taut skin of his back, and jagged sobs fall out of you with each drag of his cock along your walls.

Everywhere his skin touches yours is set ablaze with scorching heat, goosebumps pushing past the surface as his breath fans your neck and his sharp teeth graze your skin. He bites hard enough to sting, and you wince as his tongue flicks over your bitten flesh to soothe you.

You were so worked up earlier, writhing against the sheets and coming undone in his palm, so bliss quickly pushes through the ache between your legs. “Good, Hoon, feels so good,” you manage, struggling to convey how perfect it is.

“Just want to make you feel good.” His words melt into each other, vowels soft and elongated as they curl around each other. He’s working up a steady rhythm, his tip consistently nudging you where you need it—the spot that makes the room blur around you. “That’s all I want.”

Before long, the knot in your stomach pulls you up from the mattress, arching your back towards the ceiling. Mouth to mouth, chest to chest—it’s the closest you’ve ever felt to someone else, the closest you’ve ever been. The thought alone knocks the wind out of you, and his persistent whining does nothing to help.

Your want and adoration for Sunghoon run bone-deep, inching up your spine and creeping over your shoulders, intertwined with an all-consuming pleasure that turns the heat in your stomach molten as a shudder zips through you. Even though you can’t find the words to let him know, he lifts your hips from the bed to fuck you deeper, harder, into the mattress until shaky orgasms pull both of you under.

You let him fall into you, fingers curling around his hair, whispering I love you into the skin of his neck as he comes, most of his weight on top of you while you catch your breath, relishing in the fullness you feel as the last waves of your high pull back. You stay like this for as long as he needs, his head coming up from the crook of your neck to smile at you before pressing his lips to yours. A sleepy haze fills the room around you, tongue swiping tongue as you giggle happily into his mouth.

After a while, he gets up, tying the condom to throw it away and comes back with his shirt. He uses it to clean up—gentle between your legs, pressing kisses to your calves while he does. Sunghoon’s tenderness wraps around your heart, and love clouds your vision, forming a blurry trail that follows all of his movements, glowing like something from a dream, ethereal, an apparition.

The bed dips beside you, his arms around you, pulling you in so his chin rests on your head. You push your cheek into his chest, hoping the two of you will meld into one—the thought makes you warm all over, a fuzziness that reaches every part of your body while he presses kisses into your hair, rubbing your back.

“I love you,” he says, voice as soft as the rest of him. “I’m glad I exist.”

mama park: Hi lovely 😍 missing you lots, wondering when you’ll be home for Xmas………..love ma

Sunghoon stirs, nose scrunching as he snores softly into the quiet of a winter morning. His chest rises and falls steadily under your head and he doesn’t move when you sit up. The lamp on his desk is still on — neither of you could be bothered getting up to turn it off last night — and under its dim glow, you admire him. Perfect lips gently curved—long lashes kissing the skin under his eyes.

Love hits you from all angles, warmth all over from head to toe despite the chill in Sunghoon’s room. You can’t help but grin, leaning up to nose along the underside of his chin, his natural scent so soft yet dizzying as you nuzzle into him. He stirs again, turning his head this way and that before resting, you feel a bit bad, deciding to leave him be and text his mum back.

you: hi mum !!! missing you sooooooo much :((( will be home asap

mama park: BTW Sunghoon told me everything. I raised such good actors LOL make sure he looks after you and keeps you happy!

you: i’m so sorry we lied to you..

you: but i’m really happy with him and he loves me a lot

you: i love him so much .. never been so sure of anyone in my life

permanent taglist: @asahicore

#sunghoon smut #enhypen smut #enha smut #enhypen scenarios #sunghoon scenarios #sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon smut #park sunghoon x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen oneshots #sunghoon oneshots #sunghoon imagines #enhypen hard hours #fic.sunghoon

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wosoamazing · 2 months

Text

Sad Times & Surprises

Summary: You get upset because everyone seems to be ignoring you on camp.

Warnings: None?

A/N: It's only short and I deffo have written better fics. Hope you like it. Also this was based of a request but I can't find it....

You lightly knock on the door, Sam opens it.

“W-where is Steph?”

“Kyra isn’t feeling too well, so she is just with her currently, I don’t know if she is coming back or not”

“Oh okay, don’t worry then,” You start to turn around.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, it doesn’t matter” you said bitterly, you hadn’t completely fixed your relationship with Sam, you weren’t sure if you could trust her.

“It clearly isn’t nothing,” she said putting a hand on your shoulder to stop you walking away “you wouldn’t come knocking on Steph’s and my door if it wasn’t nothing, it has to be quite a big something considering you’re here in front of me.,” you hated how well she knew you.

“You don’t have to talk to me, but at least sleep in Steph’s bed, she might come back at some stage,” she moved to the side to let you in, you hesitated for a moment, contemplating what to do before you ultimately found yourself walking into the room, you slumped onto Steph’s bed, and crawled under the covers. However you weren’t able to sleep, and instead finding yourself tossing and turning in the bed.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Sam asked after around 10 minutes, you sat up and looked at her, except you couldn’t respond, your words choked you, and your body quickly let its protective barrier fall, as tears started to stream out. You didn’t really know what was wrong. It seemed to be millions of miniscule things, some of which you couldn’t even pinpoint what they were, they just all seemed to have joined and become too much and now you were here, sobbing, in a room, in a bed that wasn’t yours. Sam quickly got out of her bed and joined you in Steph’s bed, pulling you into a tight hug, you melted in her arms, she held your hand and rubbed it with her thumb, trying to help comfort you, you slowly managed to fall asleep

You woke up to Steph in the bed with you rather than Sam. Steph had come back during the middle of the night and was confused when she saw you and Sam asleep in her bed. So she woke Sam up and asked her what was happening, Sam explained before she moved back to her own bed and Steph joined you in her bed.

“Hey, what’s up?” Steph asked after she noticed you were awake. You just shrugged your shoulders in response to her, you didn't actually know what was happening. She hugged you, before you got up to get ready for breakfast.

____

The rest of your day went about as usual. Until training.

____

You had to split off in teams and went over to Steph, Kyra and Caitlin as you were usually with them, however they had Mary this time, it was Tony’s decision to swap the strikers around but Steph and Caitlin didn’t get the chance to tell you that before Kyra lied to you to tease you. “We don’t want you in our team anymore, because you’re leaving us.” She said in a childish voice, her comment which you knew she said to be annoying tipped you over the edge, and you could feel tears welling in your eyes. You went over to the drinks, where the staff were, which someone would do if they were injured slightly, however you didn't stop there, instead you just picked up your water bottle and kept walking along the edge of the pitch as tears started to spill from your eyes. Tony looked over to see what was up, but he just received a shrug back from some of the staff, so he looked around at his players.

“I’ll go,” Sam said before jogging to catch up to you, when she did reach you she stopped in front of you before putting her hands on your shoulders.

“Want to tell me what's wrong now?” She asked.

“It’s dumb,” “No it’s not, it’s upsetting you whatever it is, how bout we go round the corner so no one can see us.” You nodded before you both made your way around, you slumped down on the ground and leant against the building, Sam sat down next to you and just waited for you to talk.

“I don’t know what's wrong. I just feel like no one likes me. I feel like everyone thinks I’m the issue and everyone is avoiding me because of last camp.”

“Oh Y/N/N, you know that isn’t true right. Everyone still likes you.” She pulled you in for a hug.

“Then why will no one talk to me, or like only make small talk with me, Ellie even avoided eye contact with me before.” You let out a deep breath “Am I just being too sensitive?” you said as a tear rolled down your cheek.

“No, you aren’t. If you promise not to tell anyone, I have something to tell you,” you nodded at her “Well, I might have organised a surprise for you with the team, you know, because you’re moving to Barça, but I told them not to say anything at all, not even that we have a surprise. And you know the team, they are all huge blabs, so I think they are avoiding you so they don’t slip up.”

“What is the surprise?” you asked her as she started to get up.

“You’ll have to wait and see,” she said, she had her back to you but you knew she was smirking you could even hear it in her voice.

“But Sam.” you whined

“Are we going back to training or what, I’m pretty sure your new captain wouldn’t be happy hearing that her newest addition is slacking off on national camp,” “You wouldn’t” “Oh but I would.” She said as she started jogging back pulling out her phone for effect.

“Sam, I’m coming. Don’t you dare,” she was joking right.

#woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #auswnt #matildas #matildas x reader

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highhhfiveee · 6 months

Text

safety net (pornstar!mike schmidt x reader)

tags: fluff? angst? just exposition really. no mentions of porn or sex here! just mike being a hero and reader appreciating him errors in here as usual!

part two: 💸

you didn't really do dating.

you'd tried so many times before to no avail. things would start nicely, people making your laugh float into the air and your heart flutter, but it never got past that. anytime you start to think about these things seriously, the other party pulls away. you're always left in the dust, responsible for picking up the pieces of your heart, gluing them back together, and trying again.

it's exhausting and after your last failure, you're not sure you want to try again.

one chance encounter on a dating app changes your mind. you think it's so foolish how easily you fall into it, giggling and kicking your feet at yet another potential partner, but when your first date is coordinated successfully and the second and the third, you begin to feel safe enough to indulge.

for your fourth date, you've arrived at this fancy restaurant in the middle of the city. you're super done up, wearing a dress that you love but have to return in the morning and your tallest pair of heels. your hair is swept up just the way simon, your date, likes it. you never liked it this way, but he calls you "so beautiful" when he sees you like this, and it makes your blood rush in your ears so you wear it up any time you're around him.

simon was nice, but you didn't have much in common; he was a straight-edge tech guy. he went to bed at 10 every night and woke up at 6 every morning, planning his days out in five-minute increments (he'd excitedly showed you his planner and you had to pretend that you were very very interested 💔).

you, on the other hand, woke up at noon on days you didn't have to work, going to bed at 4 am the night before. you never knew what to do and your apartment was covered in sticky notes donning different tasks: "read book". "wash dishes". "mail off package".

you two managed nice, small talk-ish conversation and he made you feel pretty. the only thing you two had in common was your love for coffee.

you're seated at your table and all goes well up until you receive the check, although you're a little bored. you're picking at your dessert and wondering if the art on the walls is real as simon opens the billbook and slides a card in there.

"i have to go to the bathroom. be right back," he stands, craning his head down to place a kiss on your cheek, and then you're alone, finally tuning into the din of the restaurant. it's busier than you realized.

your waitress takes your bill and leaves to tender you out. simon is still using the bathroom, and at first, it's not worrying. you wouldn't be surprised if he got lost on the way there, but after ten minutes, you start to worry.

the waitress returns to your table and you think you're fine to leave, but she sets the billbook on the table, stating, "did you have another form of payment? it said this card was expired."

you shake your head, anxiously blinking your eyes. "expired?" you open the book to see the $400 total at the bottom of your receipt and simon's card tucked behind the plastic pouch. you take it out and inspect the expiration date. three years gone.

"i--i, uh," you begin to panic. you had no idea what to do. you didn't have $400 in your bank account, $405.72 less than that actually. you didn't have anyone to call to spot you; what normal person had a casual $400 to throw at a friend for dinner? if you called your mom, she would laugh over the receiver the whole time, hanging up on you.

the waitress is staring at you, expectantly, but you can't even meet her gaze. in your alarm, you scanned your eyes around the restaurant and caught simon, in his very noticeable purple suit jacket, speed-walking towards the entrance of the restaurant.

you shoot to your feet, taking off your heels, wrangling up your other belongings and dashing after him.

you hear the waitress shout, "ma'am!" behind you but there's no stopping you. what are you gonna do, pay for the meal?

you're pushing yourself in between other patrons, forgetting your manners. you're hyperfocused on simon, keeping track of his head bobbing through the throng of people.

he's made it outside just a little before you, using a brisk pace to walk down the sidewalk.

"simon!" you yell, watching him speed up a bit until he's a phantom around the corner. "simon!!!"

there are some stragglers outside, just a few eyes on the frantic girl holding her heels and screaming. you're sure they think you're drunk, but you don't care.

you scream simon's name one more time. it's shrill and blood-curdling and something you'd never expect to come out of you. you didn't get upset like this, and you know you're truly upset when you feel a tear hit your arm.

you rarely cried, but here you were, breaking down on the sidewalk outside one of the most expensive restaurants in the state. you take a despondent seat on a bench, trying to catch your breath and stop crying. you take your hair down childishly, and the thought of simon liking it sends you back into tears.

you're a blubbering, snot-covered mess when mike sees you. he's exiting the restaurant, asking for his car from valet when he notices you on the bench, staring blankly into the air.

you're beautiful, and he's unsure as to why you're sitting here in tears. no one else decides to check on you. he takes the initiative.

his hand reaches out to your shoulder and it makes you jump, shouting at him to back away from you. he holds up his hands, muttering, "hey, hey. i'm sorry, i don't want to hurt you. i just wanted to ask if you were okay."

you don't expect the voice that comes out of him. its suburban, syrupy tone doesn't quite match his look; his hair is freshly cut and it feels like there's not a single wrinkle in any of his clothes. they look quality, and expensive. the rings adorning most of his fingers give off the same vibe.

great. one of these guys.

"i'm fine," you snap, wiping at your congested nose with the back of your hand. "i don't need saving, especially not from a nice guy like you."

mike laughs, and you're embarrassed to admit to yourself that you like how it sounds.

"who said i was a nice guy? i just asked if you were okay." you shrink away, avoiding his eyes.

"it's not my fault that you give that off. sounds like a you problem."

mike doesn't stop talking to you, which is surprising. even with all the disrespect, he sits beside you and rummages along the inside of his jacket for something to give you.

you don't admit it, but you're thankful for the small plastic package of tissues. "everyone has problems. there seems to be one plaguing you right now," he leans into your shoulder, eyeing you intently. "wanna tell me what it is?"

you're still cleaning yourself up, taking another tissue out to wipe at your ruined makeup when the waitress marches out of the restaurant with two burly security guards behind her. she points to you with zeal, announcing, "that's her."

the security guards make their way over to you, disregarding mike as he asks, "woah, woah, what's going on?"

"this young lady tried to skip out on her bill." you shake your head irritably, standing to your feet. you're not even half the height of these dudes.

"i didn't, my date did. he put an expired card down to pay and then used the bathroom excuse to get out of it." mike shakes his head. in what world would someone try to escape a date with you?

"makes sense, but you still have to pay for the meal."

"how the fuck am i supposed to do that?" you screech, crossing your arms over your chest. "i don't have any money. i have to return this stupid fucking dress in the morning just so i can pay my rent."

the dress is nice. it's a black satin maxi dress with thin straps and a slit up the side. it's fairly simple, but mike can't deny how well it fits you, and how good you look in it.

"i don't know what you're going to do, but you better do something or we're going to have to call the police."

"fucking call them! i don't care," you retort, and so begins your back and forth with the security personnel.

"you don't care?"

"no."

"are you an idiot? you just don't care?"

"okay, one, i'm not an idiot and two, i really don't. this whole situation is fucking stupid. i can't pay the bill, okay? i don't know what to tell you."

"my mom always said that as a female, you should never be broke. maybe it's time for you to stand on that corner right there in that pretty dress and sell your---" the man is cut off by a sharp "hey, watch yourself. i'll fucking kill you." from mike. he steps to the security guards, who retreat a little when they realize he's not joking.

you don't know this man, not even his name, but he asked you if you were okay then and now, he's standing up for you, even after you accused him of being a nice guy. you make a mental note to apologize to him after all of this.

"i'll pay the fucking bill. how much is it?"

"it's $400, mr. schmidt," the waitress says, her face awash with red. Last name basis? How often did he come to this expensive ass restaurant?

mike looks at you and then back to the waitress, saying, "charge it to my tab. tip the bill." The waitress nods excitedly, echoing, "thank you, thank you, thank you" as she scurries back inside with the security guards. They give mike dirty looks the entire way back, giving up just before disappearing into oblivion.

mike faces you. He's a little disheveled in the eyes, the irritation he holds inside written all over his face. somehow, even his scowl is attractive.

you rub your hands over your goosebumped arms, the chill in the air wildly apparent. mike is instantly shrugging his jacket off and draping it over your shoulders, giving you a friendly smile. it's warm inside, and smells like the expensive department store colognes you snuck samples of as a kid. for some reason, you feel at ease.

"i'm sorry about your date. he sounds like a dickhead."

"yeah," you agree, biting at your cracked bottom lip. "i guess it's my fault. i really shouldn't have trusted a guy who planned his day by fives."

"hours?"

"minutes."

mike sucks air between his teeth, cringing at your words. "he sounds like a psychopath."

"maybe he was," you hum, using the lapels of mike's coat to pull it tighter around you. "dodged bullet."

"dodged bullet," he repeats, smirking down at you. his hazel eyes sparkle. you don't know why you feel so... positively unnerved yet tranquil in his presence. who was this man?

"mr. schmidt?" a valet worker in all white exits an expensive-looking, deep gray sports car. the interior looks like a spaceship, and you can't help but crane your neck a little further to get a better look.

you're not paying attention as the worker drops the keys into mike's hand and mike hands him a hundred-dollar bill he fished from his pocket. you're just focused on the car, wondering a million things. how much was it? how was its gas mileage? did it take premium gas or something more?

"do you need a ride home?" mike holds the keys up, jangling them in front of your face. you connect the dots and let out a loud belly laugh, completely blindsided.

"this is your car?"

"i...think so?" he teases, watching the happiness fall from your face. a ride home. why would you want to go home to be alone, once again collecting the jagged pieces of your broken heart from the floor?

mike instantly stiffens. "that was a joke," he clarifies, but you dismiss it with a raise of your hand.

"no no, it was fine, funny even. i just...i don't want to go home right now."

"do you want to come back to mine?" mike doesn't know if it's too forward, but it doesn't hurt to try. you needed company, and nothing would ever compel him to leave you here after everything. he catches the way your face twitches and raises his hands in defense again. "no funny business, i promise. just so you're safe, and not alone tonight."

you don't think over it very long. you'd been to plenty of strangers' houses, and this was only one night. you were sure you could trust this man. after your date from hell and nearly going to jail, what was the harm?

"okay, i'll come. thank you," you muse as mike leads you to the passenger side of his car. he opens the door for you, and you crane your head to him before you sit down. you're so close you can see the flecks in his hazel eyes, the freckles dusting the bridge of his nose, every single individual hair that peppers his jaw and mouth. it makes you forget your name.

"i'm y/n, by the way." he nods and smiles at you, wide and bright. suddenly, your legs feel like noodles.

"nice to meet you, y/n. i'm mike."

"mike," you repeat as you lower yourself into his car. "mike."

who knew where this would lead you?

been up all night writing this ayyeeeee, i write SO MUCH! going to work on writing blurbs, i promiseeeeeee. also this is very cute. i'm excited to delve into their story because it will be mostly pwp (for ficlets and blurbs) but definitely more structured for longer fics. can't wait to see where it goes!

#fnaf #fnaf movie #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt #fnaf fic #mike schmidt angst #mike stands up for you & you're like ?????#you can't believe it #you'll fall in love with him instantly #i did #faire is writing stuff #faire’s mike schmidt <3 #faire's (pornstar) mike schmidt <3

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apomaro-mellow · 7 months

Text

Wrong Number 2

Someone said they liked when authors put their super-specific jobs in fics so I hope ya like Steve havin a (kinda romanticized) past job of mine.

For the first time in his life, Steve felt like the stereotypical young person who was always glued to his phone. Every time it made a noise or vibrated, his arm shot out like lightning, hoping with every fiber of his being that it was the mystery number.

It had been about five days since he'd sent that first message and he'd been worried about their conversations being stale. But that wasn't an issue. The only times their talks lulled was when they went to bed.

And even that was after texting late into the night. Steve would watch the clock go from 9 to 10 and promise to get to sleep at a reasonable hour. And then it would be midnight and what was a few minutes after that? Then he'd look up and it would be 2 in the morning.

Texting this guy had become the highlight of Steve's days. To the point where he didn't even realize Friday had come until one of his students mentioned it.

Then, purely out of habit, he asked: "Any weekend plans?"

"I've got a soccer game", Zach answered.

"My parents are having date night", Belinda said.

And normally Steve himself would be thinking about going out and finding someone for the night. But the idea hadn't come to him for once. He knew why, but he didn't fully process it until he got home to Robin, who was in the middle of cooking breakfast for dinner it seemed.

Steve was in the middle of replying to a text sent during lunch.

(12:15) I just realized you know about my off the wall job (12:17) But I have no idea what your 9 to 5 is (12:18) Your legally required to tell me if ur famous (12:18) Not bc im a clout chaser (12:19) But bc I might not have a clue who you are

[4:13] Not famous. Don't worry. I'm a teacher.

(4:15) As a former student I apologize

Robin opened the cabinet, looking for pancake mix. “Are you and that girl still texting?”

“Me and the who?”, Steve looked up from his phone.

“That girl? I assume you're finally setting up a date for this weekend?"

"She-" Steve racked his brain for a good excuse. But it was hard to do when the person who knew him the most was staring right at him.

"Whatever flaws of hers you're about to make up, I'm gonna call bullshit because your phone hasn't stopped pinging for days." She started mixing the pancake batter.

Steve looked down at the words on his screen. The one flaw of this guy was that they couldn't meet in person. But maybe it was time to close the distance just a bit.

"She's shy. Might just text a bit more before she's ready."

[4:19] No need for sorries. All my kids are great. But that's probably because I teach their favorite class.

(4:21) Oooh their favorite? (4:21) It's gotta be something like art rite? (4:22) Or are you being a smart ass cuz you teach like calculus or something?

[4:23] I teach cooking 😛

(4:23) Oh shit. (4:24) You're actually the favorite

[4:25] Toldja. Hey quick question and then possibly many more questions.

(4:26) Go ooooon

[4:27] How would you feel about spending the night playing 20 questions? Like are you free tonight?

Eddie bit his lip as he looked at Steve's words. He had picked his shifts this weekend to make sure he had plenty of time to talk to Steve. Which meant he was in fact free tonight. He replied as such and Steve said he wanted a little time to take a shower and then he'd be ready.

And because he was a little shit, Eddie took advantage of him being away from his phone.

(4:35) Since you're in the shower, I'm taking the first question. Boxers or briefs?

[4:54] Cheater. And I prefer boxer briefs. My turn?

(4:55) Go for it

Eddie was curled up on his couch, tv low and in the background as he waited for Steve's question.

[4:55] What's your name?

(4:56) THATS your first question? (4:56) Wait we've been texting for days haven't you saved my number? (4:57) What do you have me as?

Steve bit his lip, wishing he could lie to this guy, but he couldn’t. Instead he sent a screenshot of his phone.

(4:59) Misty? That’s the name of the chick?

[5:00] Yeah. But I guess I should put your actual name now, right?

It was a gamble. But this guy already knew Steve’s name. And by this point they’d been texting for nearly a week. He just wanted to know his name. He pushed back the part of himself that said he needed to know.

(5:00) It's Eddie.

Eddie. The guy he'd been talking to was named Eddie. Eddie with the long curly hair and the chunky rings who threw axes for a living. He was a far cry from the soft girls he usually dated. Or the preppy guys he usually dated.

(5:02) Favorite bug?

The question threw Steve for a moment but he decided to humor him.

[5:04] Bees 🐝I like how fuzzy they are. And I like honey. [5:05] What rings do you have?

A couple minutes later, Eddie replied with an image. It was taken from above and showed his hands lying flat on a coffee table. Steve zoomed to make out the details of each ring. He was also able to see a watch and a couple of wristbands on him.

[5:08] How did you take that picture? With your mouth? 🦭

(5:09) Did you did you just compare me to a seal???

[5:09] What other animal catches things in their mouths?

'I can be an animal with my mouth'. Thankfully, Eddie's fingers weren't as fast as his brain and he didn't send that to Steve. Eddie had in fact put his phone in his mouth the take the picture, having a real 'no thoughts, head empty moment' when Steve asked about his rings.

Steve was letting his own mind wander as he gazed at the picture. Eddie's hands were...his hands were...well they were-

(5:10) Favorite youtuber?

The adoration of Eddie's hands were interrupted by Eddie himself as their question and answers continued. The picture continued as well. Steve sent pics of his favorite pair of shoes, his hair products, and of his neck when Eddie said he didn't believe he had all these moles.

Eddie had sent pictures of one arm, covered in tats, his acoustic guitar, and a super worn copy of Peter Pan.

The hour was growing late and both of them were feeling more bold but at the same time hesitant because it felt like they were close to crossing a line.

Needing an outside opinion, Eddie consulted with The Council (the discord server with his band mates) about whether or not he should shoot his shot. Gareth told him to go for it, what harm could it do? Grant said to do it because it could potentially be the funniest catfishing story. Jeff agreed that he should, if only because their guitarist getting murdered would be a great back story.

With their unanimous approval, Eddie decided to start actively flirting with Steve.

(8:37) Soooooo ya like jazz?

[8:38] I do actually. I really love the piano.

Okay, that one was just practice. Be smooth. Be suave. None of that was in Eddie's wheelhouse but thankfully nothing he said turned Steve away. He always seemed just as eager to reply back.

(9:10) What's your oldest piece of clothing?

Eddie was thinking of his own oldest article a t-shirt that had started out overgrown on his tiny eight year old body but he'd grown into and kept over the years. It was super faded but filled with the memory of the first time he spent more than a couple of days with his uncle.

[9:12] I'd show you, but I'm wearing them right now.

Steve had closed his bedroom door before sending the text. There wasn't anything scandalous but it seemed like it could very quickly veer into that territory. All Eddie had to do was ask. If he wanted to see them, Steve would show it.

'I would like to see it.'

(9:12) I would like to see it

Eddie knew it could be anything. Maybe a holey sock. Or maybe he also had a super faded t-shirt with deep sewn-in memories as well. Maybe he was wearing a class ring?

[9:14] image.jpeg

Eddie was treated (and goddamn what a treat it was) to Steve Harrington's bottom half, barely covered in shorts with a school's logo on them. Thick thighs covered in hair. And a bulge that was there. It was very there. Eddie couldn't overstate how there it was.

He palmed his own crotch before remembering he was looking at a guy's junk and about to jerk off to it in his living room. And he had yet to answer. What was the most respectful way to say 'humina humina humina-wolf whistle-awooga'?

(9:16) Are you trying to kill me Steve?

[9:17] Do you like it?

'Awooga.'

(9:18) ❤️‍🔥 🔥 🥵

Eddie tried to think of any other way to tell Steve how hot he made him but it felt like typing words just wasn't enough.

(9:19) Can I do something insane? (9:20) And feel free to ignore me if it's too much

Steve was lying in his bed, phone of his charger now. Nothing Eddie could do would be too much. He could knock on his door and he would let him in.

[9:21] Go ahead

A second after he sent that, Steve's phone started to ring. It was Eddie. He stared for about five seconds before picking up.

"Hey."

If possible, Steve melted more into his bed. Eddie's voice...he didn't know what he expected but it wasn't that. He said one word and Steve wanted to wrap himself in it.

"That was pretty naughty of you, sending me that pic. I could show up to your school."

"You'd be a few years too late. These are my oldest shorts, remember?"

"Tiniest shorts maybe."

Steve laughed and Eddie was on cloud nine. He was so lost in bliss, he miscalculated and fell off the couch.

"What was that?"

"I uh, I fell. Off my couch."

"Did you fall hard?"

Eddie beamed as he got up and turned off the tv. Now that he had his voice, all he wanted to hear was the man on the other line.

"Oh super hard."

Steve let out a sound from the back of his throat and he wondered if Eddie had heard it. It was honestly amazing how the smallest things got him going. Or maybe he was just that into Eddie.

"You still there Steve?"

....."Yeah. I'm still here."

Part 4

Tag Team (closed)

@anne-bennett-cosplayer @estrellami-1 @newtstabber @omletlove @ifyoudonlysurrender @rehfan @morganski-19 @corvidcantina @dragonmama76 @just-ladyme @tinyplanet95 @goodolefashionedloverboi @idoquitelikebread @kittydeadbones @manda-panda-monium @rhapsodyinalto @paintsplatteredandimperfect @keylime-green @ihavekidneys @samsoble @honorarybrit81 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @aizawa-emma @deleataecount @thesuninyaface @fromapayphone @justmeinadaze @hbyrde36 @queenie-ofthe-void @resident-gay-bitch @bestwifehaver @dangdirtydemons @ellietheasexylibrarian @perseus-notjackson @pyrohonk @holysteddie @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @mrsjellymunson @geekymagicalpotato @notaqueenakhaleesi @phantomcat94 @ladylokilaufeyson5 @dude-as-in-i-love-u @micheledawn1975 @magpiemuseum @novelnovella @marklee-blackmore @stevesbipanic @martinskis-lydias @beckkthewreck @gay-little-bitch @everywherenothere @emma-elsa-0000 @rlpersephone3259 @songbird-garden @trucoop @omgshesinsane @fantrash @7-starboi @soulminyg @larawrmonster @blackpanzy @offical-potato @aellafreya @mightbeasleep @lorelei724 @moomkin77

If you were tagged but it didn't show up in your notifications, lemme know and I'll do that thing where I tag you in a reblog instead. I know tumblr can't be trusted to function XD

#apo writes #stranger things #steddie #i wanted this out this past weekend #but had other things #anyway i used to work as a culinary instructor #it was for summer camps and after school programs #but my dream was to do it full time at a nice school #ohh the dreams we have in our youth

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sofs16 · 6 months

Text

our trust

part 1: a paddock day , part 2: our leclerc win, part 3: our love in photos, part 4: our home, part 5: ripples in our love

#TAGLIST : @autumn-bitch7 @raevyng @luvvtrent @boherahpsody @treehouse-mouse @chasing-liberosis @celestialams @cherry-piee @stevesthetics @ilovechickenwings

the night of the fight, charles was slapped with the harsh reality you had left as he entered your shared home.

usually, you would provide him with delicious food you cooked by the time he was home. now, he had to walk next block to pick up some food. though he could just order, he opted not to wallow on the couch and take the 5 minute walk.

the first thing that stood out to him as he entered was your shoes. white stilettos you’d wear on your date nights, beige sandals you wore practically everywhere, and the adidas shoes he had gotten your for your anniversary with a strawberry keychain, your favorite.

he stared back at the empty coat hanger where yours was, usually. then he made his way to the living room, no blanket of yours was there or those little stuffed toys he had grown to love and appreciate over the last few months.

making his way to the dining or kitchen area, it was only set for one. he sat down staring at your seat. the same seat where he had pleaded you to stay.

after eating, he made it back to your shared room. the things he noticed at first glance was baffling. no salt lamp you loved so dearly, no fluffy blanket you loved, no slippers beside the bed, your skincare products all gone, your jewelry box missing from your bedside table, and many more.

he saw your closet halved of what it was. he sighed and took his pajamas before entering the bathroom and feeling the hole in his chest grow deeper. he had done this to himself.

he settled in your side of the bed, hoping to feel the last ounce of you. scrolling on his phone, he conversed with the grid on his mistakes and what he should do. pierre had told him to march over to france and beg yn to take him back, alonso was strongly opposed to that, suggesting to charles he should give her space but also make himself known. so that’s what he did.

he texted you every time he could and also stalked every yn fanpage known to man. when he got the message you wanted to meet at baku, he held himself from screaming in excitement as he was having dinner with the grid.

y/n/n my love 😘❤️

september 10, 2024

y/n/n my love 😘❤️

would you mind if i went to baku this week and we talked?

sharlie brown 🫀🏎️

Of course, amour! Would you want me to pick you up at the airport?:)

september 11, 2024

y/n/n my love 😘❤️

if you’re not too busy

slr i just finished booking the flight

sharlie brown 🫀🏎️

I am never too busy for you.

y/n/n my love 😘❤️

Thennn tomorrow 9pm, pick me up?

sharlie brown 🫀🏎️

Can not wait to see you, I love you! 😘

Charles rushed out of the ferrari garage to fetch you. On the way, he was starting to worry if ‘and we talked’ would mean you were ending it with him.

He saw you sitting on your luggage outside the airport. He smiled at the sight of you and immediately went out of the car.

It wasn’t easy to not spot Charles as he pulled up in his Ferrari all red attire and his fancy car. You stood up, he hugged you tightly, and you smiled at the familiar feeling. “I missed you so much, amour. Are you okay? How was the flight?”

“I-“ You were cut off as many fans approached you both. Charles was quick to bring you in the car and your luggages and carry ons. A fan asked him to sign a Lightning McQueen shirt and you couldn’t help but laugh, making Charles smile.

The drive wasn’t awkward at all. Charles put on your favorite songs and asked little questions about your time away from him.

You mentioned how you discovered a new restaurant he would love in Nice and should go together.

Charles’ heart sped up at the idea you thought of him in places like restaurants and you wanted to go places with him. It gave him hope your conversation would end positively.

you sat criss crossed on the bed after changing and looked at Charles. “i- I really missed you, Charles” you confessed as he smiled “I missed you more than words can explain it, belle” he replied

no matter how many times you had rehearsed this on the plane, your feelings were confused. you sighed and laid your head on charles’ lap as he stroked your hair.

“i still wanna be with you charles, of course i do. i just… i dont know how to trust you. i need your word charles. you won’t do this to me ever again because it fucking hurts, charles leclerc. It hurts. drunk or not, i need you to control yourself, though i don’t know how you’ll control your drunk self. i cant do this again.”

“again? … i know, amour. i have been making myself better for you while you were away. i am lessening my drinking because i can not live without you. i have not even drank since you left and you are my everything, my priority, even on top of ferrari” he kissed your forehead as you smiled.

“‘kay… i missed you” you said quietly, nuzzling into his sweater. “me too, love” “get rest, you’ll do great tomorrow” “with you by my side, i hope so” he chuckled.

charles knew you wouldn’t just forget about it, so he was determined to prove to you he meant everything he said.

yn.charlesupdate

liked by 13,484 others

yn.charlesupdate PARENTS BACK TOGETHER AT BAKU AIRPORT !!!❤️❤️❤️ view all 1,484 comments

ynslife happy if they worked it out but i really hope yn doesn’t get hurt again:/

gridzfire LFG PADDOCK YN BACK AT IT AGAIN

september 12, 2024

clercspaddock

liked by yn, and 7,585 others

clercspaddock YN AT THE PADDOCK WE WON

view all 262 comments

yn what can i say, i missed u hoes 🤷🏻‍♀️

⤷ clercspaddock More than charles?

⤷ yn you’re as delusional as i used to be if u believe that babes…. but i love u guys 🫀

⤷ clercspaddock hey, i had to shoot my shot

⤷ uryn how did u just casually have a convo w yn

⤷ clercspaddock I DONT KNOW

september 13, 2024

yn’s instagram story:

“ back here ❤️”

viewed by 2,484,484 others

ynnns16

liked by yn, and 2,383 others

ynnns16 yeah maybe he cheated but u cant deny he’s in love with her. it was probably a mistake because look at how he looks when he’s talking abt her:,)

view all 47 comments

september 14, 2023

liked by scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc, and 2,597,797 others

yn YOUR SILLIEST WAG IS BACK WITH A MAN WITH POLE 🥹

view all 278,484 comments

2024leclercs yn beating the ferrari admin at the pole post 😭

charles_leclerc Je t’aime❤️ je ne peux pas vivre sans toi i love you❤️ i can’t live without you

⤷ yn 😘

⤷ landonorris has charles infected you with that emoji

⤷ yn it started as a joke but im afraid so.

⤷ charles_leclerc What is wrong with it?

fernandoalo_oficial Good to see you again 😊

⤷ yn I LOVE YOU

ynspillow did she just forgive and forget… babes..

⤷ yn againnn, we want to keep this private. but i don’t forget easily

⤷ verstappens3 as u should queen

mclaren You’d look good in orange 🍊

⤷ yn you mean papaya?

⤷ mclaren Whatever works for you! Send the address🧡

⤷ scuderiaferrari Don’t steal our girl🙁

⤷ mclaren Just sent the package of papaya shirts 😘

redbullracing Want to design new shirts for us? ❤️

⤷ yn YES

⤷ scuderiaferrari Excuse us.

⤷ yn you never asked me

⤷ scuderiaferrari Running to Charles about this.

ynsnorris LOL ADMINS FIGHTING OVER YN AND REDBULL JUST ASKS FOR A DESIGN 😭 september 14, 2024

yn’s instagram story:

yn.jpg

liked by scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc, and 872,584 others

yn.jpg finally get to share my lil gig soon

view all 16,166 comments

charles_leclerc My talented girl ❤️

[ liked by yn.jpg ]

f1 Lets go!!! chickf1lla RED BULL TOO? WHAT

scuderiaferrari ❤️

⤷ ynclaren u guys badly need all the help u can get after that shit show while yn was gone…

⤷ yn.jpg LOLLLL

[COMMENT DELETED!]

yn that wasnt me

september 16, 2024

liked by charles_leclerc, and 5,584,393 others

yn we’ve been doing this for quite some time so i’m glad i get to share it with everyone now🪷 i had an amazing time doing one of the things i love in one of my favorite places! i worked with f1 and vogue magazine for this one! the “adrenaline on track” issue is out next month🏎️❤️‍🔥🫧

view all 837,594 comments

maxverstappen1 Amazing

⤷ yn thanks max 🐙

landonorris IS THAT ME

⤷ yn dont let it inflate your ego

lewishamilton fire shots 🔥

⤷ yn thankies lewyyyyy

charles_leclerc These are as beautiful as you ❤️

⤷ yn are u calling my shots ugly

⤷ charlando LMAOAOAOA YN STOP

⤷ charles_leclerc What, No! I am saying you are so beautiful and out of this planet, just like these amazing photos!

charsyln yn making charles work for it as she should

voguesf1 fr though. im so happy charles and yn dated/ are dating because yn’s passions and talents are being showed to the world. everyone has talents but im just grateful we get to see her art and see her make a name for herself, not just charles’ gf

⤷ yn youre so kind:( thank you<333

⤷ voguesf1 YOURE SO KIND?? SEE THIS WOMAN IS THE RIGHT WOMAN FOR HIM AND THE WORLD TO KNOW

[liked by charles_leclerc, and 1,585 others]

⤷ stylishts lets just hope he doesn’t fuck this relationship up

[liked by yn]

september 18, 2024

love4wags

liked by 16,383 others

love4wags Yn’s old twitter account has been found and leaked. Most tweets are about F1 and her current boyfriend, Charles. The twitter account has now been deleter.

view all 4,697 comments

user this is disgusting. why are you posting something so personal here?

⤷ user1 well clearly she posted it on social media. she should’ve made her account private

⤷user3 she probably left it public so she’d get attention😂

checosbrazil “I hope the person I marry one day is not like this” ….. Um

tshoehbookss I never knew she had sm trauma…

yn hii pls take this down:)

⤷ ynsloml oh mom:(

september 19, 2024

[ THIS POST HAS BEEN ARCHIVED! ]

ynstree

liked by 5,282 others

ynsloml WHY AM I CRYING OVER A TWEET. view all 1,272 comments

f1stime Well, now we know how old she is… 5 months older than Charles!

fruitsofme notice how she always says “it’s okay” in her tweets…

september 19, 2024

liked by charles_leclerc and, 1,595,393 others

yn yes, i am the type to respond to anything against me while staying unbothered, get used to it.

plssss stop sharing my old tweets! they are embarrassing and old and not up to date with who i am now or how i am. i am the happiest with charles and im in an alright relationship with my parents. i am okay and always have been so! stop! spreading! lies!i worked hard for myself to live the life i live now and im thankful for the opportunities charles has given me.

(i did not at all do this for attention as i forgot about it and thought it was private <i didnt know how to private accounts at the time>)

[COMMENTS ARE DISABLED]

september 19, 2024

ynsodddd

liked by yn, and 6,383 others

ynsodddd why has yn gotten the most shit out of all the wags. what did she ever do to yall😭😭😭 and to the ‘fans’ sharing her old tweets… BFFR!!!! this girl has gone thru sm LEAVE HER ALONE 😭

view all 1,684 comments

user1 fr why is everything just happening to her rn😭 traumatic parents, got cheated on, working with vogue, photographer, can speak like 6/7 languages????

⤷user2 what in the wattpad

⤷author what in the tumblr (;)

september 19, 2024

charles_leclerc

liked by yn, and 7,383,595 others

charles_leclerc Best way to start racing weekend❤️

[COMMENTS ARE DISABLED!]

september 19, 2024

#SOF i ran out of pics for the boarder thing but i may have gotten a little overboard with the drama.

please please share your opinions and lmk if i ruined it 😊

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagines #formula 1 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #social media au #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc 16 #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagines #scuderia ferrari #charles lecrelc

584 notes · View notes

solarlunarsstuff · 1 month

Note

hello 👀👀👀 may i request an alastor trying to woo lucifer's oldest daughter while the big boss of hell and charlie are watching 👀👀👀

thank you so much and have a wonderful day!!! ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

YIPPEE !! A hazbin Hotel req ! I only watched around 4-5 episodes of the newest show so it might not be accurate ! Enjoy :) !

Alastor x Fem!Reader (FANFIC)

A/n: He might be a little bit obsessed with you, but don't worry, he'll make you quiet if he has to force it. (HUSKERDUST 4 LIFEEEEE)

TW: Fingering, READER IS A HOOKER !!!, semi-public, getting caught, his horn thingies grow, tongue fucking, getting eaten out, dry humping, pet names (slut, whore, baby, doll, ect), you look a little bit like Charlie, dirty talk, nipple play, messy make-outs, overestimating, and edging. Lmk if I missed anything ! 😙

Synopsis: Alastor, the 7'3 radio demon, the overlord of a lot of land in hell. Even though he's shown no sign of wanting to experience intimacy, he can change that rule...

The first daughter of the big boss of hell.

That was your title, ever since you were born. Later on though, you had gotten a little sister.

Charlie Morningstar.

She was a big ray of sunshine despite being born in this hellish place. You loved her, you really did.

The both of you nearly look the same. You did dye your hair to (F/c) so there is quite a difference. You're about 6'9, a few inches taller than her.

You also held that wicked smile from your father, typical.

Anyway, you were in the middle of cleaning your apartment when you heard a knock on your door and the sound of paper falling onto the floor.

You thought it was those stupid kids on floor 4 playing games again, but it wasn't. Turned out to be a letter, signed by... your younger sister?

Of course, having nothing else to do, you ripped it open with your nails and unfolded the neat paper.

It read,

'My dear sister, I know we don't talk much anymore, but I would love it if you paid a visit to the hotel! I also know you probably don't have a job, but dad wanted to see you too. He had just come to the hotel about an hour ago. He was basically pleading to see your pretty face again! So, please, think of this and get back to me as soon as possible.

XOXO, Charlie'

You always loved the way that she signed letters. She's been sending you letters with her sign off like that for years now.

Either way, you sat on your couch, contemplating if you should just go or not.

"Fuck it..." You thought out loud

Choosing something comfortable and not something you wore while hooking up.

Oh, right... You're a hooker. It's a job that's actually nicely paid, paid enough for food and your bills. That's it, that's what you were worried about.

What if one of your clients worked there? What of your dad and sister find out?

One client stood out to you though, what was his name? Did it start with an 'A'? Either way, he was one of those people who would choose a hooker and later on be actually interested.

You? Never, it would ruin your job reputation, not wanting to let your job go, you kindly refused, and he went on with his life.

Until you have gotten various notes from someone, some of them were wholesome? In a way, like, "I miss you" or "Just give me a chance".

Others... others were sort of... sexual... For example, "My cock aches for you" and they even sent a paper that had been covered in lipstick kisses.

But it wasn't lips. It was, uhm, you get the idea. He might have been a little bit crazy for you, but it stopped a couple of years ago.

Maybe he realized that I wasn't interested in something serious? You still thought about it as you took the taxi to the front street of the hotel.

You thanked the driver, but instead of him saying your welcome...

"How about I give you a ten? You know, for your pretty body?" He grinned

"No thanks, you don't seem like the type that I would bother with. Plus, that 10 won't even cover 20 minutes.." You snarled back

He whispered some slur under his breath but drove off anyway.

"People think they can just ask me for -" you stumbled back as you ran into something, more like someone...

Red vest, big deer ears, a staff...

'Oh shit..' You thought to yourself

Maybe he won't remember you?

"Back for round two, love?" He grinned maliciously

'God fucking dammit..' you looked up seeing that stupid radio demon overlord.

"No, I'm not, you sick fuck. I'm here to see my little sister.." You moved around him and continued to walk towards the hotel.

"Ahh, that's why I thought you looked familiar.." his voice had a hint of static to it.

You stayed silent and opened the doors, your sister turned around to see who it was.

"Alastor, I said that you -" she stopped once she saw you.

'That's what his name was...' You smiled a little at how your sister nearly knocked you over as she came and wrapped her arms around you.

"OH MY GOD, Y/N, YOU CAMEE!!!" She jumped up and down while hugging the shit out of you.

"Hah, yep, it's me!" You awkwardly hugged her back, noticing your father talking to the other workers on the lobby couches.

Lucifer turned from the sound of your voice and did the same thing as Charlie.

"MY SWEET GIRL!" He squealed

"Hey, dad." I sighed as he also hugged me

Charlie's personality was mostly taken by your father's side while you to your mother's.

Not really knowing your mom, but you knew you had almost the same personality. The little family bonding was broken by the voice of presumed 'Alastor'.

"Y/n, was it? Pleasure to meet you!~" As if... This fucker is acting as if you've never met before.

"Right..." You went along with it, about to shake his hand, but almost forgot that he is an overlord of souls.

You just smiled lightly at him, seemed like it was the safest option.

[1 hour later]

Nifty was off somewhere cleaning, Angeldust was flirting with Husk, Lucifer and Charlie were laughing at something stupid. And you, you were just sitting on the end of the couch, sipping on your (F/d).

Everything was going lovely until you heard a little bit of static start to form behind you. Everybody else didn't seem to notice, but you did. While turning around, you saw that dumb fucks face.

"Darling, tell me.. Do you like me for the money? Or for how your pretty walls wrapped around my d-" you instantly cut him off, not wanting anybody to hear.

"Shut the fuck up..." You glared at him

He smuggly smiled and sat next to you, squishing you between the armrest and him.

"Could you move-" Your voice stopped in your throat when his hand landed on your thigh.

Alastor kept his hand there, slightly rubbing his hand closer to your cunt.

He paid no mind to your silent pleas. Instead, he started talking with Husk and Angeldust. Thank the gods you were in a blindspot, or everybody would've seen Alastor touching you up.

His hand swiftly slipped into your shorts, rubbing your dampened panties from the outside.

You started to softly buck your hips into his fingers, wanting to gain friction. As if it was obvious, he stopped, grinning from you silently whining.

"Are you okay?" Your father, Lucifer, asked. He noticed how you were twitching.

"Mhm!" Was all you could muster as Alastor started to pump his fingers again.

Your arm flared out, gripping his shoulder. "A-alastor... You..." You couldn't speak for shit.

"Please let me and Miss Y/N excuse ourselves!" Alastor announced to the group.

Before you could speak up, he dragged you a few feet around the corner. "What the fuck-" he cut you off by forcing his lips onto yours.

"You're going to shut the fuck up and take me right here..." He pulled away slightly before diving back in.

A/N: I'm gonna edge yall since I want this to be done before school starts tm!! :3

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin x reader #hazbin lucifer #lucifer morningstar #charlie morningstar #alastor x reader #alastor #alastor the radio demon #alastor smut #smut #hazbin hotel smut

280 notes · View notes

faefictions · 1 year

Text

Go to Bed Angry

Eddie Munson x Reader

Word count: 2.5k

Request: Eddie teasing and flustering his girl best friend who has a not so hidden crush on him and he has a not so hidden crush on her but they're both blind to it With a happy fluffy ending please 🥺

(Gif by @thorinsbeard)

It had been a Tuesday afternoon. You only remember that detail because any other day of the week, Eddie wouldn’t have been free to give you a ride home after school. It wasn’t anything new, you were in the passenger seat of his van, the music blasting through the speakers at a deafening volume. He had just made a joke that to this day you can’t remember, but that wasn’t what did it. You turned to the window, rolling your eyes in annoyance at his teasing, everything was business as usual. That was until you glanced at his reflection, staring at the back of your head. It was a simple, innocent look, but something about it lit a fire in you that you couldn’t stamp out.

That was the moment you realized you were in love with your best friend.

You spent every day after that either in active denial, or trying your best to suppress the emotions you knew were brewing. It shouldn’t have been that hard. Eddie was just as much of a little shit as ever. His constant comments about how bad your breath smelled, or how terrible your music taste was, or slight digs at your personality in general should have been enough to completely kill the crush that you had. But the small moments where he would check to make sure you were ok in stressful situations, or when he would insist on buying you flowers when he knew you were having a particularly bad day. This moments would bring you right back to that day in his van, and the butterflies would come creeping back up on you.

It only got worse after graduation. On graduation day, Eddie had picked you up and spun you around out of excitement. Neither of you had really thought that he would be graduating with you that year, but after all the late nights you forced him to study, he had finally crawled his way past the finish line. For a second, after he had set you down, you thought that he was going to lean in and kiss you. He just stood there for a moment, staring into your eyes without saying a word, but the Hellfire boys ruined the moment when they practically tackled him from behind. You avoided him for the rest of the night after that.

Once you both got full time jobs, it got harder to spend time with each other. You began to worry that the two of you would drift apart, but Eddie would have never left that happen. The second he realized that you were worried about it, he chose to come over to your trailer every day after work.

It didn’t matter if he worked a 10 hour shift, or if he got off a 3 am, you could always expect him to let himself in and plop himself down on your couch with a loud sigh. It became a new normal to wait for Eddie to “come home”, but you hated that you thought of it that way. It was staring to feel a little too domestic. But that didn’t stop you from making him something to eat after every shift, or listening to his incredibly boring work stories for hours, or walking him 100 feet back to his trailer so he could get some much needed sleep.

On one night in September, you came home from your shift at 4 pm, as always. Your hair was slipping out of it’s pony tail, and your makeup was smudged. It had been a particularly long day. The amount of customers who had left with nothing but complaints had been higher than normal, and it had worn you out by lunch. You counted down every minute of the tail end of your shift, but not even clocking out was enough to get rid of the storm cloud over your head.

You had no idea how long you had until Eddie would inevitably let himself into your trailer, but you figured you had at least a few hours to shower and get yourself in a better mood before you had to socialize again. However, you were proven wrong when you opened your trailer door and found Eddie’s work boots kicked off to the side, and heard him rustling around in the kitchen.

“Is it too early for dinner? I mean, you always make it when I get off, but that can be like six o clock or midnight so I don’t really know what a normal dinner time is to you.”

“What are you doing here?”

He turned around to face you, now standing behind him in the small kitchen area, his shirt covered in a mysterious food stain that you couldn’t find the origin of since it appeared he was only making macaroni.

“You feeling ok?” he asked as he feigned concern and placed his wrist on your forehead to feel for an imaginary temperature. “How could you forget about your favorite person in the whole world? I’m Eddie, remember? I practically live here,” He giggled to himself before you slapped his hand away from your head.

“You’ve just never gotten off this early. I figured I had time to at least take a shower before you got here,”

“Bad day?”

You sighed and turned to finally take your jacket and shoes off. Your sigh was answer enough for him.

“You can still go take a shower. It’s not like I don’t know my way around.”

“It’s fine, you made food, let’s just eat.”

“No,” he chided as he blocked your access to the cupboard you were reaching for, “Go get out of your work clothes and get in the shower, before I help you out of them.”

“Eddie!” you yelped and slapped him on the arm, praying that the blush you felt on your cheeks wasn’t as obvious as it felt.

“I’m serious. Shower. Now,” he laughed and began to shoo and chase you down the hall into the bathroom.

“I don’t have any clothes to change into,” you pouted before he could close the bathroom door in your face.

“Get the water warm, I’ll go get your pajamas.”

You said a quick thank you as he disappeared, and you did just as he said. You turned the water up as hot as it would go, knowing that you needed to melt the day away. Eddie quickly returned with a change of clothes before running back to the kitchen in hopes that he hadn’t found a way to somehow burn a box of Kraft.

After your shower, you emerged from the bathroom fully clothed, but hair still dripping wet. You hadn’t had the energy to dry it, and the grumbling coming from your stomach was getting to be too much. Luckily, by the time you made it to the living room, Eddie was waiting on the couch with a still warm bowl of macaroni waiting for you.

“There she is,” Eddie smiled, mouth half full of noodles. He pushed the blanket that had been resting next to him onto the ground and patted the cushion excitedly.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” you sighed and bent over to pick the blanket back up. You could feel Eddies eyes focusing on you as you folded it and rested it over the back of the couch.

“What’s with you today, sweetheart? Something happen at work?,” he asked, much more gentle now, as he handed you your dinner.

“Just a long day Eds,” you fought off another sigh.

“Seriously,” he stopped you from taking your first bite, “Is there someone I need to beat the shit out of? You know I’d do that for you, right?”

“Can I just eat this lovely meal you’ve prepared for the two of us?” You faked a smile and hoped your blush wasn’t too dark.

Lately, anything Eddie said made you feel a certain way. It was like he was going out of his way to get a reaction out of you, almost like he was doing it on purpose.

“Fine,” he smirked, “I’ll get my answers out of you later, Doll.”

You tried not to choke in response to that name. That was a new one, and your brain reacted a little too fondly to it. You quickly reached for the remote and turned to the first station that seemed entertaining enough to shut Eddie up.

You reveled in the silence for the short while it lasted. You loved spending time with Eddie, always had, but it had grown harder to be around him with him acting like this. The last thing you wanted was for him to figure out how you felt about him and ruin the friendship. As time went on, it was growing harder and harder to control your own reactions to him though.

Just as your heart finally began to beat normally again, right after you had finished your dinner and set the bowl on the coffee table in front of you, you hit your limit. Eddie reached out and guided your chin towards him. He made eye contact for a moment, with an expression that felt too serious for the situation, and for a second you thought he might kiss you. Instead, he brought his thumb to the corner of your mouth and swiped away what you could only assume was a glob of artificial cheese.

“Got it,” he smiled.

“I’m feeling pretty tired, I think maybe you should head home,” you nearly snapped at him. It came out more polite than you expected, but much less than you meant for it to sound.

“But it’s only like 5:30,” he pouted. It was obvious that something was off. He usually wouldn’t get off work until much later than this, and would still end up staying longer than he had today.

“Like I said, long day. You should get going.”

“Come on, y/n, did I do something?” he tried to reason with you as you began to usher him off of the couch and towards the exit.

“Eddie, I just wanna be alone right now, ok? Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

“No,” he dug his heels in just as you had nearly gotten him to the door, and turned to face you, “Something’s up and I’m not leaving until we resolve it. You know what they say, never go to bed angry.”

“Eddie, that’s for married couples.”

“And we’re practically that.”

“Excuse me? No, Eddie, we aren’t practically anything!”

“Woah, ok, I was just joking around sweetheart.”

Had you been thinking straight, you would have noticed that Eddie almost seemed offended at your reaction to his joke. But you were far from level headed, and all you knew was that he had no right to tease you like that if he didn’t mean a word of it.

You groaned and rushed around him, opening the door to make the invitation to leave feel more like a demand. But if there was one thing you knew about Eddie Munson, it was that he was the most stubborn piece of shit, beating out even you.

“You know for a fact that I’m going nowhere until you tell me what I did. I know this isn’t just a shitty day. It may have started out that way, but you’d never kick me out over just that.”

“Well maybe today was just extra shitty, Eddie. And maybe the cure to a shitty day is to not have you around to make me even more miserable.”

You hadn’t meant it, it had just slipped out, and the second you saw Eddie’s face drop, you had regretted it. But it was too late to take it back, and you still desperately wanted him out, so you just stood in silence, trying not to let any hot tears free from your eyes. You cursed yourself for your tendency to cry at any situation that made you raise your voice.

“Y/n, seriously, what did I do?” he asked, voice laced with deep concern, and took a nervous step towards you.

“Nothing, I just want you to leave, please.”

Your tears had begun to fall, and Eddie would have been able to sense your overwhelm from a mile away. He was unsure what to do though, since in any other situation, he would offer his presence to console you. He tried to comb through the night in his brain, trying to pick out anything he had done to upset you. Once he remembered the last thing he had done before you asked him to leave, he had an inkling of what may be happening.

He gently reached out and grabbed your hand to pull you even closer to him, and he proved himself correct when he saw the way you nearly winced at his touch. He knew you well, he had once declared himself an expert on everything y/n. But, he had missed the most important thing there was to know about you.

You loved him in the exact same way he had loved you from the start.

“Can I kiss you?” he blurted, but his voice was barely above a whisper.

“What?” you exclaimed, the surprise putting a pause to your tears.

“That’s what you wanted, right?”

“Eddie,” you warned, and pulled away from him, gently this time. There was no more malice towards him, just defeat. “I wouldn’t want you to do anything you wouldn’t want,” you finished as you turned to walk back to the couch. Before you could get far, he grabbed your arm once again and spun you around to look at him.

“Then let me kiss you because I want to,” as he spoke, his demeanor changed from confidence to match your insecurity, “Please.”

You both stood, staring at each other as you tried to take in what he had said. The butterflies in your stomach were trying to convince you that he meant it, that he really had wanted to kiss you, but your brain was trying to let you down gently. He had had a million chances to kiss you, to make a move, to do anything. But he had always chosen to tease, to make you think that what had blossomed between you was nothing but one sided. You were ready to turn him down, to try to preserve your friendship and your heart, until his hand reached out and cupped your cheek.

He slowly took a step towards you, never breaking his line of sight on your eyes. He moved as if you would turn and run at any sudden movement, and his heavy breathing gave his nerves even more away.

He wouldn’t be nervous if he were lying. That was the final thought you had before you launched yourself into his lips. There was no way he was going to get the glory of kissing you first. Not after all the teasing he had put you through.

Tags:

@eddielives1986 @eddieswifu @chickpeadumpsterfire @fluffybunnyu @embrace-themagic @fanficparker @heartbeats-wildly @saturn-aka-six @calum-hoodwinked-me @peterplanet @mischiefmanaged49 @nicotine-sunshine820 @itsjusttor @emistrash @thenoddingbunny-blog @sovereignparker @raajali3

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

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gyeomsweetgyeom · 5 months

Text

[10:04 pm]

(cw: f!reader, side characters are inebriated)

Frat!Jaehyun stared at his phone expectantly. You were late. 28 minutes and some seconds late to the party you had told him just earlier that day that you'd come to. The crowd of party goers was getting thicker, the air was getting hotter, and people were getting more and more unbearable. Even though the party had only started about an hour ago, he could could count on both hands the amount of times he'd already been offered a drink, but he denied them every time. He wanted to be clear and level headed for when you would soon text him that you were at the entrance and wanted to find him.

But another 15 minutes passed and he had still heard nothing from you. His calls went to voicemail, his texts were unanswered, and there was radio silence on your end. He was getting restless, had he done something to annoy you? He didn't think he did, but maybe when you offered him a drink of your coffee earlier he had taken too much. But that wouldn't justify you ignoring him.

He pulled away from the wall in search of familiar faces to ask if anyone had seen you. Taeyong, Mark, Johnny, and Doyoung all answered no. Yuta yelled over the music, "It's crazy packed in here, she'll find you! Want a drink?"

Jaehyun shook his head angrily, "She hasn't answered any of my texts, I'm getting worried."

Taeyong took note of the concerned look on Jaehyun's face and leaned in to tell Jaehyun, "I saw her roommate outside not too long ago, you should ask her."

Jaehyun nodded, quickly making his way outside to catch sight of your roommate. She was clearly tipsy but was able to tell Jaehyun that you were ready for the party when you got a huge headache and decided to stay in. He thanked her profusely before fighting his way through the thick crowd to the front door.

"Bro! Where are you going?" Mark yelled.

"She's sick in her dorm, I'm going to run by a pharmacy and get her some medicine and stuff," Jaehyun answered.

"But you're Social Chair, man. You can't leave!" A drunk Haechan whined.

"I have bigger responsibilities, get him some water before he puts another bathroom out of commission for the night. I'll be back tomorrow," Jaehyun firmly told Mark.

Jaehyun was running quickly to your dorm after he stopped by the pharmacy. He flashed the RA a quick smile and quickly pulled out his student ID. "I'm glad you're here," she told him as she led him to your room, "poor thing, her roommate told me she'd never seen her this poorly."

Jaehyun's nervousness heightened, he gave the RA a quick thanks as he slid into your dorm. He left his shoes at the door and padded to your room quietly. He pushed the door open as gently as he could, only to catch sight of you buried under you blankets and pillows with soft only sniffles heard.

"Baby?" He questioned quietly, making his way to the edge of your bed.

"Jaehyun?" Came your weak response.

"My love, why didn't you tell me you were sick?" He cooed softly.

You whined, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes, "you had a party you were so excited about. It hit me so suddenly, I just came to bed. I don't even know where I left my phone."

He shook his head with a sigh, he pulled the pills out from the pharmacy bag and dropped two into one of your hands and a gatorade in the other hand, "take these while I look for it."

He moved around your room quietly, folding the clothes you had no doubt left on the floor in your rush to get to the party, putting away shoes and searching your desk- no phone. He stepped into the bathroom finding it beside an open bottle of eyelash glue and one false eyelash.

Jaehyun placed your phone on your bedside table and slid into bed with you, pulling you into his hold and letting you rest your head on his chest. "You know I care more about you than some stupid party right?" He whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

You nodded against his chest, "You were excited about this one, though."

He chuckled softly, running his hand down your back comfortingly, "I was excited because you were excited to surprise me with your outfit, my love."

You nuzzled into his chest, squeezing your arms around his waist, "thank you for taking care of me Jaehyun."

"I'd do anything for you," he stated softly.

You were drifting to sleep, your eyes struggling to stay open, "Can you change next time, so you don't smell like a frat house though?"

He rolled his eyes, you were going to be better in no time.

#kpop imagines #kpop au #kpop scenarios #kpop reactions #nct #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct timestamps #nct x reader #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun blurb #jaehyun timestamps

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littlelioncub43 · 1 year

Text

Let's Exchange The Experience

Summary: Eddie's been acting strange lately. Slowly but surely pulling away, no matter what you try. But one phone call may just bring him right back to you.

Pairing: Mechanic! Eddie Munson x Female!Reader

Word Count: 6,468 (She's a doozy ok, don't hurt yourself)

Warnings: Smut (18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI), slight angst, drug use, smoking, kinda high sex, unprotected sex (don't be silly, wrap your willy!), cream pie, hair pulling, oral sex (f receiving), idiots in love, said idiots screaming while fucking, fluff, happy endings.

A/N: Ok! Part 3! Here she is! Honestly, I'll let this one speak for itself. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you: HER.

Kisses 💋

—K

P.S. Reblog and comment something nice or else I'll cry.

Part II Series Masterlist

You listen to the electronic ringing through the receiver, twirling the curled phone cord as you chew your lip. The nerves of possibly being rejected again was burning in your chest. You have no idea what it was, but Eddie had been acting weird. More weird than normal. It started off as small things at first; his hands shook when he would hand you something or move your hair out of your face, his eyes wouldn’t meet yours for longer than 10 seconds (if even that), or his smile would fall a few seconds faster than normal. You assumed there was something going on, but you also assumed he would tell you about it when he was ready.

Then it was bigger things, like not letting you sit in his lap during game night with the gang or cuddle during movie nights (which were slowly but surely becoming less and less frequent in the last few weeks). You were starting to fear he’d start avoiding you completely. Your leg bouncing ceased as soon as you heard the ringing stop.

“Eddie?” You hopefully call into the phone. You hear someone shuffling on the other line before you hear the voice you had hoped for.

“Hey, Princess,” Eddie mumbles happily into the receiver, a smile was evident in his voice but his words were far too relaxed to be normal. “Been thinkin’ about you.”

“Are you high?” You couldn’t help but chuckle, ignoring the butterflies that flutter in your tummy. His rumbling, throaty laughter is enough of an answer for you to know that he is, in fact, high.

“Maaaaaybe,” he coyly drawls into the phone. High or not, it was nice to hear him sound so calm. “You wanna come over? Wayne is working a double tonight, and I got a little baggie with your name written all over it.”

Chewing your lip once more, you think it over. It had been a while since you last smoked and work had been stressing you out, not to mention whatever was going on with Eddie.

“Come on, Sweets, it’ll be good for you. You know it will,” he coos, really pulling out all the stops, he knew you couldn’t say no to him when he spoke like that. You give a dramatic sigh, feigning annoyance.

“Well, I guess I could,” you hear him chuckling, “I’ll have to reschedule dinner with the Queen and the peace summit with Russia for another day.”

“Gorbachev can wait a day or two, Princess,” he says, “I, on other hand, cannot.”

You laugh softly, a sound that Eddie swears he can live off of, and shake your head.

“I’ll be over in 10 minutes, Munson.”

“I’ll keep a joint warm for you, babe, don’t you worry,” he sasses before you hang up the phone. The stupid grin you wear doesn’t leave your face as you head out the door. It stayed put as you drive the short but chilly distance to his trailer, only when you get to the door does it falter ever so slightly. You don’t get a chance to knock, the door creaks open slowly, revealing Eddie’s red rimmed eye peering at you through the crack in the door.

“Can I help you, Madame?” He says in a goofy British accent. You nearly break into a laugh but manage to hold it in.

“Uh, yes. I’m looking for a Lord Munson. This is the Munson Estate, correct?” You match his silliness and put your hands behind your back snootily.

“It is, Madame, but I’m afraid you’ll have to state your name and business, otherwise I’ll be forced to set the dogs on ya,” he says, keeping the door ajar. You shake your head with a laugh.

“Come on, Eddie, let me in. It’s cold,” you whine softly. Snow coated the ground and an icy wind swept in from the north, your blue jeans and winter coat did very little to fight off the cold.

“Oh, right, sorry, Princess,” he immediately pulls you inside, the warmth of the trailer immediately soothing your cold hands. You take your coat off, breathing in the familiar aroma of weed and Eddie’s house. It was comforting scent that you hadn’t smelled in months, work made sure to keep you too busy to smoke as much as you used to. After kicking off your shoes, you turn to find Eddie making you a cup of tea, something you always wanted when you got too cold.

“I recall you saying something about keeping a joint warm for me?” You ask as you grab a handful of chips, popping some in your mouth as Eddie brings you your tea, focusing extra hard on not spilling a drop.

“I did! It’s right— wait, where did I put it?” He frowns and spins to search for it, muttering softly to himself as he retraces his steps before finding the neatly rolled joint waiting for you both in the ashtray on the coffee table. He grabs it and holds it up triumphantly, plopping down to the couch.

“Ha ha! Found it!” He pops it into his lips and lights it as you relax on to the couch beside him, stealing a few puffs off before handing it to you. “Here you are, my dear.”

“Thank you,” you chirp and pluck it from him. God, you needed this. Taking a deep breath, you let the thick smoke fill your lungs, eyes shut as you embrace the coming calm. Slowly, you blow the air from your pursed lips and up into the air, the action has Eddie’s full attention on you. Fuck, your lips are gorgeous. You hum and blink your eyes open. “God, I needed that.”

Eddie smiles and leans back into the couch, snagging the remote from the cushions and turning the TV on. Old reruns of Gilligan’s Island play on while you two pass the joint back and forth. You don’t say much, and for the first time in a while, it’s a comfortable silence. Soon, you find yourself leaning on Eddie, your limbs pleasantly tingly and light, made of feathers and lead all at once. You notice him shifting a lot beside you, his calmness slipping for a moment. A heavy yawn pulls from the base of Eddie’s chest as he stretches his arms above his head, one holding the shared joint comfortably between his fingers and the other coming to rest along the back of the couch behind you. You think nothing of it and choose to focus on the TV, Gilligan found radioactive vegetables and suddenly the entire island has super powers.

The warmth of Eddie’s arm sliding from the cushions to rest on your shoulders pulls your attention away from the screen once more. Eddie draws is a small breath, hiding the small gasp in the butt of the joint, but the longer his arm stays slung around you, the more he relaxes. With the buzz currently strumming through you, you decide to rest your head on his shoulder and reach for the shared blunt. Eddie hands it over, relishing in the heat as you snuggle in a little closer like you always do and sigh comfortably. His high was slowly starting to come down, which meant the nerves were starting to come back. Swallowing softly, he wills himself to relax (counterintuitive, I know). You look over at your best friend, his jaw was clenched as he breathes deeply through his nose, his leg starting to bounce as he fidgets with the hole in his jeans.

“You ok, Eds? You look tense,” you ask softly, it was killing you, you had to ask. When he looks back at you, he sees the genuine worry in your eyes. His heart soars when he realizes how close your face is to his, he can smell your shampoo, and God, you were just so perfect. He has to do something. Now or never.

“Y-Yeah,” he nods, clearing his throat, “I just wanted t-to apologize for being weird these last few weeks.”

“Oh,” you sigh, relief washing over you, “it’s ok, Eds. I figured something was up, but I’m…” you trail off, suddenly noticing how close your faces are too, “I’m glad we’re back to normal.”

“Me too, Sweets,” he says in a slow, deep voice, the sound sends a shiver through you, one you couldn’t exactly hide from him. His lips part as you stare at each other, his pupils dilating as the moments tick by.

Without breaking eye contact, Eddie takes the forgotten blunt from your hands and sets it aside in the ashtray. The brush of his hands on yours sears your skin in a way you’re all too familiar with. His hand comes back to caress your knee, his touch was gentle and careful, mindful of any boundaries that you might have. Carefully, you move with him, sliding into his lap, your movements unhurried and careful. Eddie takes a deep breath and welcomes you against his body, it was familiar yet different, you’d sat in his lap a million times before but this time just felt different. The arm that was slung around your shoulders slowly drapes itself further around your middle as you both are drawn to each other like magnets, his hold slowly capturing you like a python.

“Eddie,” you whisper, your own hand coming to his forearm, tracing those goddamn bats once more while the other rests against his shoulder. The second you touch him, Eddie is certain there is no going back for him. This was it.

“Be my girl,” he says in that low timber, his tone is bordering on begging. He’s scarily serious, a heat blazing behind his eyes. Your noses brush together, foreheads touching, your eyes stay fixed on his as you drink in his words, words you’ve dreamt of hearing for years. “Be my girl.”

“I am your girl,” you whisper without a second thought. It was the easiest answer you’ve ever given him. Eddie’s breathing catches in his throat at your words, his hands tightening around you before one slides up your back to cradle your head against his.

“You’re mine?” His voice was timid now, almost not believing you. You mould your body to him even more, cradling his head like he is yours.

“Yes,” you say simply, like it was the most obvious and true thing in the world— and it was. Eddie’s eyes slide shut with a sigh, relief washing over him as well as a tidal wave of happiness. You pull his head against yours a little firmer, basking in the quiet hush that took over the trailer ever since your conversation started.

“Kiss me.” You whisper, your words have Eddie’s eyes snapping open, almost as if he didn’t hear you correctly, so you repeat yourself. “Kiss me, Eddie.”

There were 3 things that you were absolutely certain: One, Eddie Munson had the softest lips in the entire universe. Two, there was no way you were ever going to forget this moment for as long as you live. And three, you were undoubtedly, unconditionally, and irrevocably in love with him.

Nothing in this world has ever felt so right.

The tender yet passionate press of his lips on yours had your head spinning, your hand in his hair tightened to help ground you. Eddie’s hold on you tightened as well, the kiss slowly but surely deepening. The first swipe of your tongue across his bottom lip evokes a deep groan from the pit of his chest, your own answering whimper vibrates against his mouth. He welcomes your tongue into his mouth with his own, playing with your tongue happily, taking his time to taste you as thoroughly as he possibly can. You lure his wet muscle deeper into your mouth, the action alone has Eddie panting like he ran a mile. The buzzing high from the weed is quickly replaced with the electric want strumming through you both.

Soon, breathing becomes a necessity and Eddie reluctantly breaks the kiss. Gasping for air, you can’t help but steal a few more pecks in between heaving breath, each kiss ending with a satisfyingly wet smack. The quick pecks soon turn back into full kisses, tongues drawn back to each other with need. When you shift forward, you feel it; hot and hard at the front of his jeans. Eddie detaches from your lips to gasp, his eyes fluttering as you rest your weight against his hard on.

“J-Jesus Christ,” he gasps, staring at you with those big doe eyes. He dives in again, not being able to stand to not be kissing you for every long. You hum before breaking away from him once more, your foreheads resting against each other as you breathe in sync.

“I… I love you. I love you so much,” he professes between deep breaths, the heft of sincerity is clear in his tone, “you’re… you’re everything.”

“I love you, too,” you respond and pepper his face with kisses, drawing a happy grin across Eddie’s face. “Been in love with you for so long, Eddie, so long.”

Eddie groans at that, tucking his face away into the crook of your neck, letting himself finally feast on the delicate skin like he’s always wanted. You shiver when you feel his lips sweep across your throat, messy kisses trailing along the column of your neck. It has you positively trembling, the throbbing wetness between your thighs was nearly unbearable. Sweet moans fall from your lips as he sucks a hickey into the soft skin of your throat, your hips naturally moving against his to ease the throbbing between your legs.

“Eddie,” you moan out into the living room, the sinful sound reverberating off the walls of the cluttered trailer and filling Eddie’s ears. He curses under his breath, hips lifting up to meet yours eagerly. You fall into a slow yet heated rhythm together, both of you writhing in perfect time. Eddie kisses his way back up to your mouth.

“Princess, fuck, that feels so good,” he growls, his cock pulses and strains against the seam of his zipper. Each roll of your hips was quickly turning his brain to mush, all he knew was that this was the best thing in the fucking world and nothing could possibly top it.

“Take me to bed, Eddie, please.”

Ok, he was wrong.

“Yes. I—You—Yes,” is all he can get out before he’s rising from his spot with you scooped up in his arms. You yelp at the sudden movements, clinging to Eddie’s surprisingly strong body as he marches you both towards the back of the trailer. Eddie continues to mouth at your neck and lips, switching between the two eagerly while maneuvering you both through the house perfectly. He slams his door open blindly before kicking it shut with enough vigor to shake the frame.

“Dreamt about this so many times, Sweets, you have no fucking idea,” he groans as he lowers you to his bed, taking a moment to appreciate the sight of you beneath him. The throbbing of his cock is nearly painful when he sees the sight before him: you on your back, your lips swollen and plump from his kisses, hickeys and lovebites that he left blossoming along your gorgeous neck, your hair messy from his hands.

“Oh, fuck, you have no idea,” he rips his t shirt off and tosses it to the side without a thought before diving back down to you, his mouth attached to the skin of your throat, “you’re so fucking beautiful, y’know that right? Make me so fucking crazy all the damn time.”

He was rambling, he knew it, but really couldn’t control himself at this point. The only thing on his mind was showing you just how much he loved you in any way you’d let him. Your hands eagerly explored the newly exposed skin of his torso and chest, your fingers tracing over the tattoos you’ve memorized a million times over. A pleased grin pulls at your lips when you see him shiver as your hands ghost over his heated skin. Slowly raking your hands across his chest, you cup his jaw in your hands, forcing him to look at you.

“You’re gorgeous, Eddie Munson,” you purr to him, letting every ounce of emotion you feel for him pour into your words. You see his eyes glaze over as he searches yours, looking for any lies or truths in you, and finding more of the latter than anything else. His face turns an adorable shade of pink, one that you have every intention of seeing again.

Before he can say anything, you steal another kiss, distracting him for a moment. The feeling of your hands sliding down his body once more has Eddie pulling at your top, silently asking if he can remove it. You nod and he tears the fabric away from your body as quick as he possibly can to return his mouth to yours, Eddie was certain he’d never get enough of your kisses.

The moment your hands return to his body they start sliding south, teasing the buckle of his belt. A shuddering gasp breaks Eddie’s lips from yours, his jaw drops when you cup the front of his pants. Even through the layer of denim separating you you’re able to feel his length against your palm. From what you can feel, he was thick, and hard, and just begging to be played with. With your bottom lip caught in your teeth, you rub at the bulge eagerly.

“A-Ah, haaaaaah fuck,” Eddie moans, no shame evident in his voice. He grips the bare flesh of your sides as you touch him, trying to ground himself with his mouth over your bra-covered chest. God, if it was this good through his jeans, he was certain he was going to die when you actually touch him.

“Eddie,” you moan as he mouths at your nipple through the thin material of your black bra, the sound of his name has his hips surging into your hand. He switches from one breast to the other, giving sloppy kisses and teasing bites to the soft flesh. With trembling hands, you start undoing his belt as fast as you can but whine when the belt doesn’t come undone. “Wanna feel you, baby, please?” You ask oh, so sweetly.

“Fuck, ok, ok, yeah,” he mumbles as he rises to his knees, his own shaking hands unfasten the belt much faster than you could hope for. You hear the clinking of his belt and the hum of his zipper being pulled down, your face heating up with excitement, your hips wiggling on their own accord. Eddie kicks off his jeans and socks, leaving him in his favorite checkered boxers. You barely get a glance at the tent in his boxers before he’s playing with the button and zipper of your own pants. “Can I take these off, Sweets?”

“Yes, please,” you confirm with quick nods, and that’s all he needed before tearing off your trousers and throwing them behind him without a thought.

“Jesus Christ, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he breathes as he hovers above you, his calloused hand tracing the slope of your outer thigh and hip, his thumb rubbing over the elastic band of your black panties (thank God you wore a somewhat matching set—basics for the fucking win). Your face heats up at his words again.

“You said that already, Eds,” you tease with a bashful smile, and Eddie can’t help but smirk at your reaction, you were so cute when you got all flustered.

“It needs to be said again, Princess,” his voice dropped back to that husky tone. He was looking a little too smug for your liking. Deciding that revenge was in order, you unclip your bra, letting it slip down your arms before you discard it with the rest of your clothes. The look on Eddie’s face, was exactly what you hoped: jaw dropped wide, his eyes wide and laser focused on your naked chest. He was stunned speechless.

“I—Fucking hell!” He curses under his breath before eagerly attacking your chest. Loud moans fill the room as he latches his annoying skilled mouth to your nipple, sucking and lapping at it like his life depended on it while his other hand cupped and kneaded the flesh of your other breast just as passionately. His own pitiful moans matched yours, eyes sliding shut as he relishes in the feeling of you in his hands and mouth.

“Fuck, yes!” You cry out when he pinches your hardened bud between two rough fingers and rolls it, your back arching into his face and hands for more while your hands pulled at his hair and scratched at his back. Eddie shivers when he feels the bite of your nails along his skin. Your eyes flutter when you feel his kisses getting lower and lower, now leaving a trail down your belly while his hands caressed your hips, playing with the bands of your soaked underwear. Settling in on his stomach between your legs, Eddie gently spreads your legs, holding your thighs in his large hands tenderly. A whine escapes you when he kisses along your inner thighs, making sure to leave imprints of his teeth and mouth on the juicy meat.

He was about to ask for permission to remove your underwear but you lift your hips for him before he can speak. With a pleased smirk, Eddie peels your panties away from your core, going slowly so he can watch the strings of your arousal stick to the gusset of your panties. Eddie can swear that he’s never been harder in his entire life. It takes every ounce of self control within him to not blow his load at the sight of your bare pussy, wet and waiting for him to touch. A loud appreciative groan bubbles from the back of his throat, your confidence skyrocketing at the sound of it. The small smirk you wear is quick to disappear when his tongue licks a fat stripe up the cut of you, collecting as much of your arousal as he possibly can.

“O-Ohh fuck!” You whimper and lift your head to watch him, Eddie moans as your sweetness coats his tongue for the first time. He knew immediately that he was never going to be satisfied, he would always crave your heady flavor. The feeling of his tongue lapping at your folds rids your mind of any coherent thought, all you could feel was the heat of pleasure coursing through you in perfect time with his wiggling tongue. You grip the long curly locks of his hair for help, head tipping back against the pillow, thighs trembling as his warm mouth surrounds your clit, sucking harshly just to hear you moan for him. He eats you like he would never be fed again, his movements viciously reverent, equal parts desperate and passionate.

Eddie casts a glance up at you, smiling through the hazy lust that coats his mind. You’re a mess with your sweaty skin shining in the light from his bedside lamp, your hair wild from where you’ve pulled on it, your eyes were screwed shut and your gorgeous mouth was hung ajar to let him hear every single noise you made. He’s got you right where he wants you; writhing and whining above him with his head between your thighs.

The firm grip he has on your thighs tightens the more you twist and writhe in his hold. The sting at his scalp spurs him on, your high pitched cries of his name and curses fuel his desire. He circles a thick finger at your quivering entrance before easing it into your heat, the tightness of your cunt around his finger has his hips driving down into the mattress on their own accord.

“E-Eddie! M’gonna cum!” You cry out, not caring if any of the nosy neighbors can hear you. If anything you wanted them to hear you, because Eddie Munson is a fucking God at giving head.

There’s a building tension in the pit of your gut, fire consuming your every nerve as he works you closer and closer to your high. He maintains the pace of his mouth and finger, carefully adding another finger in with the other, stretching you out as best he can. Your legs shake around his head, his free hand holding your thighs open for him, your back arching suddenly as you draw tight. He can feel your walls pulsing and fluttering around his fingers, his cock flexing desperately with need as you finally cum for him.

Melodious. Perfect. Beautiful.

That’s how Eddie would describe the sound and feeling of you coming for him. The sinful cry of his name is the only thing on your lips as you cum. Stars burst behind your eyelids as you fall over the edge, your breathing shallow and erratic as Eddie slows the speed of his fingers and mouth, now giving your clit gentle kisses. Only when you push at his head with a whining plead does Eddie release you with a gasp.

“You taste so fucking good, so fucking good,” is all he can say through his own heaving breaths, petting your outer thigh while you come down. You feel his lips press soothing kisses to your heated skin, making you grin and giggle breathily. Eddie matches your smile, your release coating his lips still, and if it were up to him, they would stay that way forever.

“Come here,” you pull at him as he quickly crawls up your body. Your lips attack his the instant they are in reach, the tangy sweetness of yourself on his tongue does nothing to deter you from practically devouring him. Eddie’s brain short-circuits when you play with the waistband of his boxers. “Take these off for me, baby.”

He did not need to be told twice.

He scrambles to get them off and down his legs, his frantic movements making you giggle and sit up on your elbows. Eddie grins when his boxers are finally kicked to the floor, his skin flushed pink already. Your breath catches in your throat when you see him; he was thick and long, his red tip leaking beads of pearly precum and glistening in the lamp light. You moan softly at the sight, biting your lip as Eddie takes his place on top of you again. He can’t say that this was the reaction he expected, but it was definitely better than he had hoped for.

Before either of you can speak, you’re pulling him in to a heated kiss and flipping him on to his back. Eddie moans in surprise when his back lands on his bed, but then a pleased purr rumbles into your mouth when you settle into his lap. A pleased sigh flutters from you when his bare skin glides across yours for the first time. No clothes, no barriers to keep you separated. It felt right.

“F-Fucking hell,” Eddie curses in a soft voice when your dripping cunt settles against his bare cock, the feeling was only what he could describe as divine. Then you rocked against him. “Oh! Oh, fuck yes!”

You whimper when his hands clutch your hips, his bruising grip helping you to grind a little faster on him.

“Yeah, yeah, a little faster, rub your pussy on me, Princess, just like that,” he breathes out, his eyes glued to the space between you to watch as his cock get drenched in your juices. “Holy fucking shit, baby, that’s so—that’s so hot.”

“Eddie, please,” you moan, the desperation was getting to you, “need you inside me, need to fuck you.”

“God,” he groans and tosses his head back on the pillow beneath him, shutting his eyes to keep from blowing his load immediately. He realizes his mistake the moment your mouth starts to bite at his neck, your plush lips sucking at his pulse to leave matching hickeys that he’ll admire later. “Fuck, ok, Princess—“ he doesn’t get to finish his sentence before you’re rising to your knees with a pretty hand wrapped around the base of his cock to guide him into you.

The moment his mushroom tip catches your quivering entrance, Eddie is sure that time stopped. You slowly ease him into you, letting gravity pull you on to his dick. So, this is what it heaven is like, you think to yourself before the pleasure renders you thoughtless. You listen to the long moan Eddie releases and naturally match it. Inch after inch, he fills you, stretching your little hole beyond what you’ve thought possible. The wetness you left behind on his shaft and the mix of his spit between your legs ease your descent, allowing him to slip further and further into you until he finally bottoms out. Eddie is speechless, his jaw open wide as he pants, eyes shut tight, his legs were already shaking. Nothing has ever felt this fucking good in his life.

“Oh my God, you’re so fucking big,” you moan in a thin voice, your eyes fluttering at the feeling of Eddie, your best friend, finally being inside you. “Feel so good, Eddie, so fucking full.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he breathes out quickly, trying to regain composure, and finally opens his eyes. He sees you perched on top of him like he’s always dreamed about: your back arched ever so slightly to accommodate him inside you, your eyes looked dazed and fucked out already, plush lips wet with your spit and ajar as you gasp for breath, sweat gave your skin a dewey ethereal glow.

“Oh God, you—fuck!” He curses again, his brain failing him and leaving him with no thoughts except ‘fuck.’ And he had every intention of doing just that.

With your hands braced on his chest, you give an experimental grind of your hips. Rolling in a circle, you let your hips move sensually, easing yourself into the sensations. The tuft of hair at the base of him rubs into your clit, the sensitive nub getting just the right amount of stimulation that has you speeding up. Drawing your hips up, you finally start to bounce on him. Soon the precise pace that you found is lost to a frenzy, want and lust taking over your bodies until neither of you can fight it.

“Yes, yes, yes, fuck, Eddie!” You cry out as you lose yourself, Eddie’s firm grip helping you ride him. He gives you a shout of your name in response of his own, his hips lifting to meet yours. He watches the way your face contorts each time he thrusts into you, addicted to the cute scrunch of your nose when he bottoms out.

“So good, that’s it, good fucking girl, taking me so fucking well,” he rambles in a gruff voice that is eerily similar to his morning voice. The throaty rasp has you clenching around him, pulling deeper groans from the man beneath you. “Such a tight little pussy, Princess, feels so good around me, never wanna fucking leave, wanna keep fucking you forever.”

He knows it’s silly but that’s how he feels. He can tell you like it too, judging from the way you claw at his pecks and throw yourself on his dick even harder. Tipping your head back, you let yourself feel. The blinding, searing euphoria coursing through your veins, Eddie’s brutal grip on your hips, his flush, heated skin sticking to yours, the pleasurable scratch of his body hair, the comfortable softness of his mattress beneath you both.

Eddie watches as your eyes slide shut, he can see each wave of pleasure crash down on you, the way your face can’t hide how good you feel, how your moans are forced out of you each time he slams you down on his cock, the hypnotizing bounce of your tits in front of him. He couldn’t take it anymore.

Sitting up, he braces a hand behind him on the bed and wraps an arm around your waist, holding you in place while he takes control. With his knees bent, Eddie is able to drive up into you harder than before. You claw at his shoulder and lean back a little, adding a small grind to his thrusts to send you both into a tizzy.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuck! Eddie!” You moan at the top of your lungs, one hand grabbing a handful of Eddie’s hair and pulling harshly. That nearly does him in.

“O-Oh!” He whimpers, his cock flexing deep inside you as his pace falters for a moment before returning to the punishing rhythm. The feeling of your pussy juices leaking down his bare shaft and dripping down his balls leaves him delirious. It’s then that he realizes he’s not wearing a condom.

“Fuck! Princess, you gotta get off! M’Gonna cum! G-Get off! Gonna cum!” He sounds broken, he looks like it too, with his face crumpling with debilitating pleasure. He desperate to keep going right up until he has to pull out, his arm around you getting ready to lift you off of him.

“No, inside! Want it inside, Eddie, please!” You whine and lean in, kissing sloppily at his open mouth. Your begging is painful to listen to, but it erases any coherent thought in his head. The hand holding him up meets your clit to start rubbing furious circles on it, the rough callous of the pads of his fingers has you seizing up in his grasp. You needed to cum before he did. With his sweaty forehead resting on yours, he watches as you finally fall apart. “Cum inside me! Cum inside me! Eddie!”

You practically scream for him when you reach your peak, your entire body trembling and tensing around him. Eddie watches as you surrender to your high, he’s never seen someone look so beautiful. The unbridled scream of his name paired with your pleas for him to finish inside you is more than enough for Eddie.

“I-I love you, love you so fucking much!” He grits out through his teeth as he finally comes. Nothing in this world can describe the feeling of his cum finally filling you. The sounds of his loud moans, wanton and bordering on screams, were the most erotic sounds you could ever think of. You cling to him, and he to you, as you both shiver and tremble, riding out your highs together.

Eddie can barely think, nothing mattered to him except what he held in his arms at the moment. He could hear the ringing in his ears as well as your mixed moans, feel the heaving of your chests and the hammering of your hearts as they beat rapidly. Peeling open his heavy eyelids, he’s met with your own weighted stare. The fucked out expression on your face paired with the knowledge that he was the one to put it there, sent his heart soaring for the skies. He brings both hands to your back, rubbing the dewey skin with a shaking touch. He cradles you to him with a grin so bright you swear it could light up the sky.

You can’t help the giggle that bubbles in your throat, your arms slung around his neck to pull him into a kiss. It’s sweet and tender, a bit sloppy from your exhaustion but still absolutely perfect. Eddie strokes as much of your skin as he can reach, trailing his hands from your thighs and up your back as many times as he can.

“I love you,” you hear him mumble against your lips before kissing you again with the ghost of a smile, “I love you,” kiss, “I love you,” kiss.

“I love you, too,” you whisper back, you feel your face heat up, “that was the best sex I’ve ever had in my entire life.”

“Fuck, me too,” Eddie grumbles with a smirk, clearly proud of himself, “I don’t think I can walk after that,” he chuckles, “fucking hell, when you begged me to cum inside you? Fuck, I nearly passed out.”

You chuckle with him and hide your face in the crook of his neck, letting him hold you a little closer. Eddie grins like an idiot, you were always so cute when you got bashful, and it was funny to see the contrast between the sweet angel hiding her face and the sex goddess who rode him within an inch of his life. His light laughter died off as he lowered his head to whisper to you.

“I came inside you.” You could hear the worry in his voice, so you caress the meat of his arm before pulling back to give him a reassuring smile.

“I’m on the pill. We’re safe,” you say gently. In an instant, any and all worries left his body immediately. The cute little wrinkle between his lightly furrowed eyebrows disappeared with a sigh and was replaced by his million-dollar smile.

“We’re safe,” he repeats and you nod, “so that means I can do that again?”

“If you want to,” you bite your lip when Eddie gives you a mischievous look.

“‘If I want to?’ Princess, that’s all I’ve ever wanted to do for the last 5 years,” he scoffs and shakes his head, “‘If I want to.’”

You giggle at his rambling and play with a strand of his messy hair. A few moments pass in silence as you both bask in the after glow.

“When did you… did you realize that you love me?” You ask gently, peeking up to see Eddie watching you with loving eyes— like he always was.

“Since you told me my bat tattoo was cool in sophomore year,” he whispers back to you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear while he smiles at the memory. “You were the only one who actually liked them. I couldn’t look at them without thinking of you, after that. Still can’t.”

“Oh,” you were nearly crying. How sweet can he possibly be, you were going to die.

“What about you?”

“When you beat up Derek Steinberg for starting those rumors about me. You did it without even hesitating and then you-you made sure that I was ok. You were so kind and so selfless and— no one ever cared about me like that before.”

“Well, it seems we’ve had it down bad for each other for a long time,” he chuckles, lightening up the mood a little. “We’ve got some time to make up, don’t you think?”

“Mmhmm,” you nod with a smile.

“Dates, dinners, parties… I think it’s time we did some of those.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

I no longer have a taglist! If you would like to stay up-to-date on when I post a new fic, follow @littlelioncub-library to be notified!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated and needed because I love them 💖

#come on angel the series #eddie munson x reader #mechanic!eddie munson is my new love #mechanic!eddie munson #mechanic!eddie munson x female reader #mechanic!eddie #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fan fic #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x you smut #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #joseph quinn #little lion literature

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littlemissayu · 7 months

Text

TWST Boys as ✨ PARENTS✨(Part 2)

ft: Octavinelle, Scarabia | pt.1; ft.Heartsabyul & Savanaclaw | pt.3; ft.Pomefiore, Ignhihyde | pt. 4; ft.Diasomnia

TW: kids, pregnancy, reader is depicted as female, domestic, fluff

Azul Ashengrotto-

4 very well behaved children. For the majority of the time they are really good kids, listening, getting good grades,and respectful. Until you make one of them angry, bc they will hold that grudge and with find a way to pull a fast on you; yet will they admit they're mad if you simply ask? No. They DO know how to forgive and they do to the people they love. Honestly Azul would be a very gentle parent because he has a soft heart and doesn't think his kids could do anything wrong, definitely the parent who will find some excuse for his kid.Don't get me wrong he knows where ti draw the line like if their kicking someone's chair on an airplane. 2 boys and 2 girls, and he would never have it any other way(even if originally he was sort of scared of messing them up).

Jade Leech-

2 kids, two adorable little girls. His daughters were super calm children. When you two first brought your first home you were gald yet worried because she rarely cried throughout the night. All you could think is 'This is so jade's daughter'. Both of your kids are absolutely brilliant and catch on fast. Your 2nd daughter was very into photography and would snap pictures of family and her dad's mushroom garden.One father's day she gave her dad a photo album filled with pictures of him with his family (and his mushrooms & terrariums); he almost cried tears of joy. Jade loves to spoil his little girls, he tries to say no to them but they give him those sad, sad eyes and he just gives in. Very protective of your and your girls, you guys are the most important people in his life.

Floyd Leech-

6-10 kids, two words ; baby machine. He loves seeing you pregnant so he does it over and over again. The most chaotic dad to ever have, wanna egg the neighbors house? He'll help. Wanna troll local Walmart employees? You guys will get kicked out together. Wanna rustle with a good ol' dad in the mud? Let's do it!! To others he may seem like a horrible parent but his kids know he always means best and they love him. He hates parent-teacher conference, bc now he has to listen to some strange rant about his kid for 25 minutes; but the upside is if his kids do really well they get to treat them for whatever they want. He'll also get to be super proud!! He has at least 2-3 sets of twins only one of them is boy-girl, other(s) is boy-boy.

Kalim Al Asim-

9- whenever you tell him you don't want anymore kids!! This man wants a huge family like he had growing up. Most of his kids seem to be super happy go lucky like their dad. He has more self-control by the time he has kids so thankfully he isn't throwing parties everyday, but if his kids want to have one ; go all out!! (Just don't do anything illegal). All his kids are given unlimited cards by the age of 13, he wanted to do 7 but you said it was too young so he agreed on 13. His kids are the life of every party, you either really love 'em or really hate 'em. These kids are 100% either home-schooled or in a prestigious private school and have bodyguards for the obvious reasons being they are Asim kids they have constant threat someone will assassinate/kidnap them. But Kalim is a great dad and his kids love him!! I'm not gonna list all his kids but his first is a little girl <3

Jamil Viper-

2 kids, very strict. He is the first Viper in years to break the long line of servitude to the Asim family. It's hard to break out of certain habits but, although it made his kids super sneaky, it also made them work really hard to not have dad be disappointed. His kids are super smart and always on top of their class. Like their dad they are very talented, his daughter takes up painting and martial arts, and his son takes up spelldrive and culinary. Jamil may be strict but he is also a very proud parent, as his kids seem to always do amazing things. He does tell them when he's proud and tells them how great they're doing and how much he loves them. Lucky for them they also inherited his gorgeous hair.

Octavinelle Masterlist

Scarabia Masterlist

TWST Masterlist

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x reader #fluff #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul x reader #jade leech #jade leech x reader #floyd leech #floyd leech x reader #kalim al asim #kalim al asim x reader #jamil viper #jamil viper x reader #domestic #babies #tw babies

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shogunish · 1 year

Text

𝘁𝗲𝗮𝗰𝗵 𝗺𝗲.

pairing. gojo satoru x f! reader

genre. smut, pwp, friends to lovers

warnings. explicit sexual content, hair-pulling, raw sex, female masturbation, handjob, fingering, mating press, lots of cum, squirting, loss of virginity, uneditet

words. 5k

summary. Gojo Satoru has absolutely no business knowing that you're still a virgin. It will only result in your demise: never-ending comments about your lack of experience until you have no choice to smack him over the head upside-down.

note. special thanks to @cinnamonmon for indulging my fantasies and pouring gasoline into the fire ✨

comments and reblogs are highly appreciated <3

Discussing Shoko's and Gojo's sex life is most certainly not how you expected your day to go.

Gathered at a table on a terrace, surrounded by lovely flowers blooming and the serenity of the Jujutsu Campus, you unhurriedly sip your soda. Depending on who is talking, wide, curious eyes jump from Shoko to Gojo and vice versa.

While you are happy to be spending time with your friends, you can't contribute anything to the conversation.

Apparently Gojo's awkward sex moment was when he was drunk and rubbed a girl's thigh for 10 minutes straight, firmly believing he had found her clit. Laughter bursts from Shoko's lips and you swear her coffee almost came out of her nose.

"No way! That sounds like something you'd do sober, too," she teases once her giggles die down.

Satoru pouts as though he is seriously wounded by his friend's words that stung like needles. "So that's how you think of me? I assure you this was a one-time fuzz up!" He smacks one hand to his chest where his heart is and raises his other hand much like he's vowing to never fuck up so majorly again.

Admittedly, this is one of those stories that have even you grinning into your glass. But the conversation quickly moves on; Shoko talking about the guy who took her virginity, Gojo confessing his favorite position (a string of words you had never heard of) and the several reasons why he liked said position so much.

It is a stretch of time ㅡ or maybe only 5 minutes ㅡ until Satoru puts the spotlight on you.

"You've been awfully quiet, [Name]. Cat got your tongue?" His voice has a teasing lilt to it and a smart comment lies on the tip of your tongue, but Shoko decides to answer in your stead.

She twirls a strand of hair between her delicate fingers. "[Name] can't add to the conversation because she's still a virgin," Shoko deadpan with not even a hint of a teasing tone laced in her voice.

"Shoko!" You look at her, betrayal and embarrassment written all over your face. A jumble of words, or rather letters, spill from your mouth like water from an overflowing sink, trying to save the situation. You flail your hands through the air, making all sorts of wild gestures and attracting quite a few curious looks from sorcerers and students alike.

Gojo Satoru has absolutely no business knowing that you're still a virgin. It will only result in your demise: never-ending comments about your lack of experience until you have no choice to smack him over the head upside-down. If annoying people was a sport, Satoru would definitely win the Olympics with flying colors.

"Are you for real?" Despite the blindfold hiding his eyes, you can tell that he's genuinely surprised. "And here I thought you'd have several men at your feet by now." Ah, there it is. His trademark grin which you can recognize from miles away.

Satoru would never say it out loud, but he thinks you're really pretty. You're blessed with humor, intelligence, strength in battle that even he recognizes and a smile that melts hearts on the spot. All these attributes that he silently adored about you are obvious as day to him. To think that no other man sees it proves that he sees more through his blindfold than some other folks do with a pair of lame glasses.

Yet, Gojo thinks that it's better this way. At least, he doesn't have to worry about someone else sweeping you off your feet.

Shoko rests her cheek on her fist, a warm breeze blows through her chocolate hair. "Right? [Name] most certainly is pretty, but she prefers to stay at home on her days off and play video games. The only thing she pulls is the blanket over her head. It's a shame," she muses.

Has Shoko just..roasted you? You're flabbergasted.

"I'm still here and can hear you, you know!" Heat sits high on your cheeks, threatening to melt you from within, but you have to get a point across. Embarrassed, you gaze to the side; the sliding door to your right is suddenly much more interesting than your oh-so-beloved friends. "There's no shame in not having had an..well..you know..yet," you grumble.

Satoru snaps his fingers. "You mean an orgasm."

Oh, you've just dug your own grave, haven't you? You wish for the ground to swallow you whole and never spit you back to the surface again if it means escaping this ridiculous situation for good. If you could, you would just drop your forehead onto the table and groan in agony.

You will never hear the end of it.

"So not even an orgasm by yourself?" Satoru digs and stuffs a chip or two into his mouth; they're your favorite flavor and usually you would steal 70% of the bag's content, but you have a reputation to defend right now.

A reputation that's crumbling, because lying to Gojo is impossible.

Defeated, you meet his gaze and sigh. "No. But it's no big deal, anyways. I don't have time for any of these things."

"No time, huh..," Satoru echoes your words quietly and slouches back into his seat. It's almost suspicious how easily the 1,90m tall bother on legs drops the subject, but maybe it's because he knows you're lying through your teeth.

The clock strikes 10 in the evening when you're in bed, the lights in your bedroom dimmed and dipping the room in sweet orange hues. Your shirt is pulled over your chest, tits exposed to the air and nipples hardening at the change in temperature. Nimble fingers slide from the valley of your breasts down to your stomach and linger just above your panties.

How stupid, you think. Who couldn't make themselves cum?

Perhaps, the earlier conversation you had with Shoko and Satoru still weighs heavily on your mind and perhaps you have a point to prove that you aren't as clueless as everyone (including yourself) believes.

"Hmph, this is ridiculous," you huff, push your panties to the side and slide your finger through your folds. They're already wet and sensitive, probably glistening in the dim lights. A content sigh escapes your lips.

But when you slide a finger into your pussy and can't reach that oh-so-sweet spot everyone keeps talking about, you groan in frustration. Thrusting your finger into your cunt does nothing but spread the slick and no matter how much you rub at your pussy, it doesn't feel quite right.

Frustrated moans and groans grow in volume. At some points, colorful curses leave your mouth and you give up on pleasuring yourself.

"Fucking hell, this is stupid!," you yell and continue your little rant until a knock on your door interrupts you, ripping you out of your headspace. Once your clothes are back in place and you look acceptable enough to be seen by people, you trot to the door with bare feet. "Coming!"

When you open the door, you certainly don't expect Gojo to be on the other side, a concerned look on his face which isn't obstructed by a blindfold or sunglasses for once. "Are you alright? It sounded like you got injured."

"Injured..? I'm not.." Confused, you look up at the taller man until it clicks and heat explodes on your face. Oh dear lord, no. He must've heard you trying to touch yourself and mistook your pathetic attempt at pleasing yourself for having hurt yourself on accident. "Oh..Oh fuck.."

You drop your forehead against the wooden door frame, not daring to meet Gojo's eyes. The fact that they're not covered makes the entire situation even worse, somehow. "It's not that, I was..just busy."

Gojo cups his chin in thought, mulling over your words and you can visibly see the gears in his head turning. Unfortunately for you, Satoru is smarter than he acts. A smirk graces his lips as he laughs. "So that's it? Oh man. You really suck at touching yourself, you know?"

"What the hell do you know about my body?!" You cross your arms over your chest and turn your head to the side, not sparing your dearest friend another glance. Having this conversation with him in the hallway is embarrassing enough already. "It's not as easy as it sounds! And keep your voice down!"

"You're the one making a fuss right now," Satoru states and pops into your personal bubble, scrutinizing your face from your eyes swimming in embarrassment down to your trembling bottom lip. "Seeing you all pent-up like this almost makes me want to teach you."

The idea popping into your head is the dumbest thing you have ever thought of, but what other choice do you have? At least once, you want to taste the ecstasy everyone keeps talking about and there's no one you trust as much as Satoru, even though he could be annoying.

"Could you?"

"Could I what?"

"Teach me how to touch myself."

To your surprise, Satoru agrees and you invite him into your place. It's exactly this dumb request that lands you in your bedroom with Gojo Satoru sitting on your bed and asking you to strip down first. To his surprise, you're oddly compliant and do as you're told.

"Get comfortable and relax, [Name]. It's just us." Satoru's voice is calming as you lie nearly naked in front of him. Your entire face feels hot as you catch him eying your boobs, the curve of your waist and the cute panties that separate his gaze from your bare pussy.

"Touch your tits. Take your time and don't rush," Gojo says with a slight tilt of his head. "You're supposed to enjoy it."

You gulp down the lump in your throat, muttering a "fine" as your hands slide from your collarbone down to your breasts. Insecurity fills your veins, you hesitate and your eyes flicker up to Gojo who's comfortably watching you and assuring you with a nod of his head. You cup your tits, fondling and squeezing them lightly at first.

For a reason you couldn't quite place your finger on, your tummy is already feeling funny. Is it because Satoru's watching you or..?

"Good. Now go ahead and play with your nipples. No need to go all out just yet, be gentle at first." Eyes blue like the skies intently watch your fingers flick your nipples before rubbing them in slow circles. Gojo would be lying if he said that he isn't feeling himself getting hard merely because you're touching yourself in front of him. "That's it.."

After some time, you pinch and tug at your nipples until a whimper slips your lips and goosebumps are scattered all over your skin. It feels good, you notice. The previous hesitation goes up in smoke as you get comfortable with yourself, with Satoru watching you closely.

"Feels good, doesn't it?," he questions to which you nod your head yes. "It does," you whine.

Oh, you have absolutely no idea how sweet you sound, do you? Gojo has to adjust his sitting position or else you'd sooner or later see the boner in his sweatpants, asking for your attention and sweet release. He doubts his right hand will get the job done tonight.

"You know, it's not fair," you suddenly speak up, voice shaky and uncharacteristically insecure. "I'm nearly naked and you're fully clothed..," you trail off, cheeks burning.

Gojo chuckles, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Are you saying you want me to undress like you did?"

In the past, you've seen Gojo shirtless quite a few times and it never fazed you. But now that you are half naked in front of him, pussy wet and aching for some friction, you are painfully aware of the way he's built as he strips down to his underwear.

He's broad and buff in all the right places, the muscles in his arms bulging whenever he flexes his biceps. Not to mention his slim waist and the white happy trail disappearing into his boxers, leading to the erection between his legs.

"Go ahead and touch your pussy, rub on it. Get to know what feels good for you."

Following his words, you shimmy out of your panties and dip your hand between your legs where your folds glisten with your arousal. It's wetter than it was before, allowing you to slide right through the slit and making you sigh in pleasure. You spread your folds, circle your entrance with the tip of your finger and moan at the sensitivity.

Gojo watches your pussy flutter around nothing at the feather light touch and has to ignore the throbbing and twitching of his cock. If he could, he would jerk off while guiding you, but he can't do that. At least not yet.

"Now you rub your clit. Slowly," Satoru instructs. His icy blue eyes are glued to your nimble finger sliding through your slick folds, searching for the bud and glistening in the dim light of your room.

A frustrated huff slips your lips. "I can't find it.."

"Are you serious? It's right there."

"Where..?"

Gojo takes pity on your pathetic attempts of pleasing yourself. Grabbing your knees, he spreads your thighs apart, scoots closer to your heated body and presses his thumb right to your clit. "There."

Immediately, your back arches off the mattress as Gojo draws a high-pitched, pleased moan from your glossy lips. Thighs twitching, you buck your hips into his hand and whine. "Again," you demand through a haze of longing and desire.

Gojo has to take a breath through his nose to compose himself. How often had he dreamed of you asking for his touch underneath him, soaking his fingers and thighs spread apart so prettily? His right hand can't compare to the real thing.

"Are you sure?" He strokes the pad of his thumb over your clit and watches you tremble with mesmerized eyes. White strands of hair frame his face as he tilts his head to the side.

Frantically, you nod your head, but Gojo tuts at this. "Use your words, sweets," he commands and you give in to his every word.

"I-I'm sure," you stumble over your words and catch his gaze, holding it with heat on your face and a softened look resting upon your features. "Please, touch me, Toru.."

"That's a good girl," Satoru smiles to himself as he drags his finger down to your fluttering hole and circles the slick flesh. Slowly, he inserts two of his fingers into your cunt, curves them upwards and rubs that sweet spot within you. "This is the spot that you'd wanna rub when you finger yourself, but now that I look at your hands.." Gojo trails off and takes one of your hands into his own, smirking when you squeeze it. "You probably won't reach it on your own."

Moan after moan spills from you, hips buck into his hand for more, more, more. You throw your head back into your pillow and dig your nails into the sheets until your knuckles go white. Heat pools in your lower abdomen and slides up your spine until it spreads to the very tips of your fingers. "A-ah, Toru! Right there," you whine. "Don't stop.. Feels s'good."

Satoru chuckles. "You're so sensitive, it's cute. I'm so lucky to be the first to see you all wet and needy, ain't I?"

Each squelch of his fingers is followed by a moan or whine, sounds that Gojo could listen to all day if you'd let him. Your slick trickles down to his wrist, stains your inner thighs and leaves a damp spot on your once clean sheets. The heel of Gojo's palm rubs your clit with each precise movement of his hand, leaving you no choice but to squeeze your thighs shut.

"Aw, is it too much for you?," Satoru coos in faux sympathy and uses his free hand to grab your face, making you look up at him through half-lidded eyes with your lips all puckered. "Fuck, aren't you a pretty little thing for me," he groans.

You want to answer, but all that comes out is a string of letters that sound an awful lot like his name, all fucked out and gone.

Gojo forces your thighs open again, watching his fingers disappear into your cunt over and over again until he's pounding them into you, juices dripping down to your ass. Your gummy walls tighten around his digits until Satoru is sure you're about to suck him in.

Suddenly, he pulls his fingers out of your fluttering hole.

"Why'd you stop?," you whine in pathetic tones as the sweet tension leaves your muscles and the knot of warmth disappears from in-between your legs.

Satoru caresses your thighs; from your knee up to your inner thigh and across your stomach until his hands caress the underside of your tits, his thumbs flicking your hardened nipples. Just like that, he draws a whimper from you. "If you're gonna cum, it's gotta be on my cock."

It takes a moment for your brain to process his words, but when they do, your gaze travels from Gojo's stupidly handsome face down his abs and stops at the twitching bulge between his legs. A damp spot of pre-cum rests on the top of his erection, making you lick your lips.

"Your cock, huh..," you echo his words like you're drunk on him, his touch, like you're drunk on love. Absent-mindedly, you sit up and place your hands on Gojo's broad shoulders. You had never realized just how well-built and firm he really is and it makes you gulp.

Slowly tracing your hands down his body, you slide his boxers down his legs and toss them into some corner of your room. Gojo's cock springs free, smacks against his abdomen once and stands at attention. Pre-cum pools from the tip and a delicious vein travels from the base all the way to the red, swollen head.

"Teach me how to touch you," you whisper.

Gojo has a hard time controlling himself when you say these things in that voice of yours and give him those doe eyes. But he also has a hard time saying no to you. "Wrap your hand around the length like this.." Grabbing your hand, he makes you wrap your palm around his cock; a shiver goes down his spine as your fingers nearly don't fit around the girth. He's hot and heavy in your hand.

"Then you wanna rub it and twist your hand a little," Gojo instructs and guides your hand up and down his cock just like he said. His head falls back into the nape of his neck and a groan vibrates deep in his chest. "Rub the tip with your thumb. The slit is fine, too."

And you do just as you're told. Carefully, you rub the swollen tip with your thumb all while gliding your palm along his cock. Sticky pre-cum pools from the slit and when your thumb catches some of it, making the slide so much warmer and wetter, a loud groan escapes Gojo's lips. He wants to thrust into your palm so badly, but just before he could..

You're apologizing and pulling your hand away, shock and guilt written all over your face. "I'm sorry! Did I hurt you? I didn't mean toㅡ"

"Hell no." Satoru is quick to wrap your palm around his cock once more and tighten your grip to thrust into your fist. "You feel fucking good. Keep going, sweets."

When his hand releases yours, you nod at him and drag your fist down to the base of his cock and slide it right back up where your palm squeezes the tip. His pre-cum now sticks to your palm, each rub sounding wetter than the one before.

Groans and moans spill from Gojo's mouth. He no longer feels the need to thrust into your hand; not when he rests his forehead on yours, his hot breath fanning your cheeks and basking in the feeling of your hand wrapped around him. Large, calloused hands glide from your shoulders to your arms and cup your tits. Satoru fondles them, squeezing and groping you to his heart's content.

"You're so beautiful," he mutters. His curious hands are now cupping your cheeks, skilled fingers move away some stray strands of your hair before his thumb catches your bottom lip. "Can I ㅡ ah, shit ㅡ kiss you?"

Your grip around his cock tightens, making him hiss. You smile at him like you're in love. "Yes, please. Kiss me, Satoru."

Gojo crashes his lips into yours, one hand keeping you in place by the back of your neck while the other one grabs your ass, pulling you closer to him. You moan at his touch, at the way he bites your bottom lip and sneaks his tongue into your mouth to dance with your own.

Satoru groans into your mouth when your fingers graze his balls, squeezing and fondling the flesh lovingly. He wraps his tongue around yours, sucking on the slippery muscle until a combination of his saliva mixed with yours trickles from the corner of your mouth. Delicate fingers get caught in Satoru's hair, pulling and tugging at the roots and always asking for more.

Gojo pulls you impossibly closer until you're on his lap, your pussy kissing the length of his cock and slicking it up. He can't take it anymore.

Breaking the kiss, a string of saliva connects his lips to yours and you find yourself pushed into the mattress.

"I need to be inside you. Now." Gojo towers over you, easily covering your frame with his buffer one. His eyes, once as bright as the clear skies, are now as dark as the depths of the ocean. Drops of pre-cum land underneath your belly button, pooling there and warming the skin. "Will you let me fuck this pretty pussy? I promise I'll be gentle."

Briefly, your eyes flicker down to his cock and you wonder how he's supposed to fit inside you when you had been clenching around his fingers already. But your need to feel Gojo inside you is greater than the questions floating throughout your mind. "Please. Fuck me, Toru."

Something akin to boyish delight lights up the blue of Satoru's eyes. Grabbing his cock, he makes sure to slide through your glossy folds and groans at the warmth you gift him. When the head catches your clit and Satoru smacks it with the tip, he smirks at the way you arch off the mattress.

"Ugh, stop teasing and fuck me already!"

"Who knew you were so bossy in bed?," Gojo teases and the next smart comment lies on the tip of your tongue, but it's wiped clean when Gojo presses his cock into your sloppy hole.

You dig your nails into his bicep, whimpering at the burning stretch but it feels too good to complain about it. Your pussy sucks him right in until he's nestled within your gummy walls, tip pressing into all the right spots and twitching within you.

"Fuck, you're so tight and wet..," Satoru groans, wraps one of your legs around his waist and drapes the other one over his shoulder. He sinks a bit deeper into you until his balls are pressed to your ass. "It's so much better than I imagined."

Drawing his hips back, Gojo thrusts into your pussy with a groan and sets a pace that makes you wrap your arms around him, digging your nails into his back. His weight pushes you into the mattress, each stroke of his cock making you moan louder than before.

"You're feeling good, huh?" Satoru smirks above you and grabs your hips to hold you in place, picking up the pace. Skin smacks against skin, your pussy squelches and leaves a white ring of cream around his cock. "Gonna turn you into a pretty mess once I'm done with you."

All you can do is take whatever Gojo gives you. The leg draped over his shoulder dangles in the air, your tits bounce in tune with his thrusts. "Fuck, gimme more, 'toru.. Need all of you..," you babble.

"More? You're a greedy thing, aren't you?" But Satoru fulfills your wish regardless. Sneaking a hand between your bodies, his fingers are quick to find your puffy clit, rubbing figure eights into the nub. Tears spring to your eyes, brimming your waterline and blurring your sight.

"Toru! Ah, fuck! Hah..shit, yes!" You chant his name like a prayer, throw your head back into the soft pillows and drag your nails down his back. You'd certainly leave some scratches, but Gojo doesn't mind. Not when it makes his cock twitch within your sloppy walls, leaking of pre-cum.

"There, yes, there! Just like that." Hot tears roll down your cheeks and into the clavicle of your collarbone as Gojo hits that sweet spot which makes you see stars over and over again.

"Right there, huh?" Sweat trickles down Satoru's temple, a few strands of snow white hair sticking to his forehead as he pounds you into the mattress. He grips the back of your thighs, folding your legs up to your chest and putting his full weight on top of you.

You cry his name, grasping at anything that was Gojo; his back, his flexing bicep, his tousled hair. Anything that you could reach as he abuses your poor cunt. "That's it. Take my cock just like this and I'll make sure to fill you up," he praises all while digging his blunt fingernails into the flesh of your thighs. He'd definitely leave his mark on you.

Mewling at Satoru's promise, your hole flutters around his cock and sucks him right in before it clenches down on him.

"T-Toru," you stutter as he drills his cock into you, a sob rocking your shoulders. "H-How do I know I'm about to ㅡ fuck ㅡ cum..?"

And when Gojo pinches your clit, his cock pressing into your sweet spot and your eyes rolling into the back of your skull, your orgasm comes crashing down on you in waves.

A loud scream of Satoru's name is ripped from your throat and your back beautifully arches off the mattress. Clawing at his back, several sobs spill from your chest and it's so fucking wet. Your pussy is gushing all over his cock, wetting not only his lap but your stomach and sheets as well.

Satoru rubs your clit in hard circles, letting you ride out the waves of your high. "That's fucking nasty, baby. When I said I wanted you to wet my cock, I didn't think you'd squirt," he laughs and pounds into your spent cunt until you're moaning again, begging him to stop.

"Too much..Toru, 's too much!" Your squirm underneath Gojo but all he does is hold you still as he presses his hips flush to your own. He buries his face in your neck, holding you so close that your tits get pushed up against his chest.

"Shh, let me fill your pussy, pretty girl," he shushes you and with one final thrust, thick ropes of cum fill up your insides until it leaks out from where his cock plugs you. Gojo groans right into your ear, grinding his sticky cum deep into your cunt before he slowly pulls out.

His tongue sticks out to sweep over his bottom lip as he admires the creamy mess he's made of you; covered in not only his but your cum alike, lips swollen from his kisses and the several prints of his fingers on your skin. Satoru smiles at his handiwork.

"I don't think you've ever looked prettier," Gojo swoons, a soft look in his eyes.

"Ugh..," you groan, feeling full of his cum that seeps out of your cunt. "Shut up, Satoru.."

Contrary to popular belief, Gojo Satoru has the decency to take care of you after he has folded you in half and drained every last bit of energy from your body. He is gentle when he cleans you up with a warm washing cloth, but still an asshat about it when he says "Whoops, there's more coming out. You should really focus on keeping my cum in, love."

You want to slap the grin off his face, but lack the strength to do so.

So instead, you let him dress you into a fresh pair of panties and a hoodie that was several sizes too large. Gojo is dressed in casual sweatpants and a loose shirt. The bed is made and a couple of snacks are now in front of you and Satoru, the heat of the moment gone just like the Earth-shattering high he gifted you.

"Satoru..What does this make us?," you cautiously ask with a mouth full of a couple of gummy bears. There is nothing else that you cherish as much as his friendship and trust in you, but sex destroys every friendship, right? Fuck, you shouldn't have gotten carried away.

"Hmm..," Gojo hums an leans back, supporting his weight with his hands behind him on the soft mattress. A pair of pitch black shades now rests on the bridge of his nose, yet you can clearly see the playful glint in his annoying, beautiful eyes. "I guess I gotta think of a way to introduce you as my girlfriend now."

Your head whips towards Satoru, owlishly staring at him. "Eh? Are you serious?"

"I, Gojo Satoru, would never lie about this!" He raises his hands like he's surrendering, like he's about to whip out a white flag and it makes you chuckle. "So, what do you say?"

With your knees tucked underneath your hoodie and pulled to your chest, you let a pout grace your lips. "I guess I would love that.."

"It's official then!," Gojo exclaims, tosses his arm around your shoulder and pulls you flush to his side. Playfulness quickly turns into tenderness as he presses a soft kiss to your hairline.

"You're mine now."

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