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hanjisick · 2 months

Text

Orders.

genre. mafia au. bodyguard!lee know x fem!reader

desc. your father is an elite, high ranking official in a mafia family. after your first kidnapping, a bodyguard was hired to ensure your safety.

warnings. nsfw. fingering & sex. torture. kidnapping. murder. violence.

wc. 10k

✉️ : this is my first writing after a 9 month hiatus. i apologize for the unannounced break and i will be answering and writing again shortly. enjoy! :)

You sit in a wooden chair, wheezing and thrashing from days of sleep deprivation and torment. Your body aches, wrists bruised and bloody from the ropes, and you almost feel like giving in and spilling Daddy’s secrets— allowing them to kill you and the family.

But you knew better than that. You knew that you'd be saved.

The gunshots and cries for help weren't unexpected from above the dark bunker.

With an ear-piercing creak, the door swings open and the shadow of a man emerges through the doorstep, shoes squeaking with fresh blood underneath.

He doesn’t let out a single word as he kneels to grab your face and examine it. Your attention follows the ring on his finger. An insignia that he is part of the family. You can depend on him.

But still, you wince, sharply inhaling as his fingers aggravate your wounds.

“Don’t get their blood in my wounds, I don’t know what kind of freaks they are,” You grumble, voice husky from days of screaming.

You let him turn your head, retaining eye contact with the floor as you grit your teeth.

“Relax,” he mumbles, “I don’t bite.”

He leans closer to examine your wounds. “You took a lot of hits. How many people are here?”

He draws back as you reply, “Can’t tell you exactly.”

“About four of them grabbed me while I was leaving the house— stupid on their part, no wonder you were here so shortly,” You trail off before catching yourself back on topic.

“But I’ve only seen three different men since I’ve been here. Only to beat me and interrogate me. Don’t worry, I didn’t say anything to put Daddy at risk.”

“I heard two other unrecognizable voices. That would make nine people in the building that I know of. Of course, there could always be more. How many did you shoot?”

“Six,” he responds before looking down at your scrapes and wounds again.

You feel him caress your cheek once more, his cold skin sending shivers down your spine.

“You’re in bad shape.”

“If there’s more here, we need to get out as soon as possible. We can worry about my wounds as soon as these people aren’t on our ass.”

You struggle in your bounds, the ropes burning your already bloody wrists, “Could you untie me, first?”

“Don’t move.”

You obey his command, halting as he unties the ropes, uncovering the painful burn marks and blisters.

“That fucking hurt,” you rotate your wrists, “I could’ve gotten out without your help eventually, though.” Your voice is rough, breath coming out in harsh, sharp drags.

“Sure, you would’ve.”

You stumble to your feet as he pulls you into him for safety. He reeks of gunpowder and high-dollar cologne— presumably something that Daddy has made sure that he has the money for.

“Stay close to me, when we get to the front, you go out first and then I’ll leave right after.”

You follow the unfamiliar man out of the maze, almost slipping on the floor blanketed in blood.

You adjust to the bright sunlight— and it feels gentle against your damaged skin. It seems like time has stood still while you were captured. “Did Daddy order you a car?”

“Yes,” he answers, “Some men are waiting out front to take us to the closest hospital— which isn’t too far.”

“I’m being hospitalized?” You follow him into the backseat, finally slacking for a moment ontop of the fresh leather.

“It’s not my choice to have you taken to the hospital, it’s the orders.”

“Do I have a statement to tell the nurse?” You look at him in concern.

“Am I supposed to say, ‘Oh, I was kidnapped by Daddy’s enemies! By the way, he’s in the mafia! Who wants to arrest Daddy?’”

“Tell them you fell down the stairs.” His flat tone contrasts your own, remaining unfazed.

“How would that cover up my wrists' burn marks?” You hold up the bloody and bruised dents, “Nobody gets these from falling down the stairs. There's way too much blood— and some of it isn’t even mine.”

He raises an eyebrow, looking over to the burn marks on your wrist and then back to you.

“Then tell them you accidentally burnt yourself while cooking.”

“Are you even listening to me? Are you stupid?”

He doesn’t respond for a moment, not seeming to care about the situation.

“It’s not hard to pay them to be silent.”

“How about I tell them that I was heavily bullied at school and a couple of classmates did this to me? I think that could work.”

You two arrive at the front entrance of the emergency room, he follows behind you, strolling through the automatic door.

“I’m fine, really, I was just beaten by classmates,” You lie through your teeth to the front desk, “My boyfriend took me here to get it checked out.”

He raises an eyebrow.

You comply with the nurses as they check your weight and interview you.

“I don’t have any stab wounds, at least I don’t think so— I don’t remember what they did to me. I was held captive for a few,” Your voice trails off as you wince at a sudden pang.

You glance down at your bleeding side and are unexpectedly whacked with all of the distress that you had been repressing at once.

Your vision starts to fade, face pale as a ghost.

The man rushes over as they carry you to a bed, and he kneels beside you to review your condition. Your body is pale and cold, breathing jagged and rapid.

You hear the whispers of the staff panicking. One nurse checks your pulse, and another elevates your legs.

“I need my blood sugar up,” the first words that come out of your mouth sound weak and painful.

You look over at the man beside you.

You need to lie. But you don’t even know his name.

“Boyfriend,” you determine, “please get me a sugary drink from the vending machine.”

A subtle smirk forms upon his lips, but it vanishes as soon as it appears.

“Fine,” he rises to his feet.

You hiss as the nurses sterilize your wounds, shrieking and thrashing on the mattress at the sting. You try to stay still, but the pain is intolerable.

Footsteps echo and you find the man returning with a chocolate bar, which he holds out to you. He brings it close to your lips and holds the chocolate against your mouth for you to take a bite, “Slowly.”

“I told you to get me a drink,” You disregard his command, biting the chocolate quickly, almost aggressively.

His lips turn up, amused by your action.

The nurses finish stitching up your deep gashes and bandaging your wounds, recommending that you stay the night.

“Pay for the bill with Daddy’s cash and let’s get out of here,” you state coldly, “I need to shower and get all of this blood out of my hair. I don’t want to stay here.”

“As long as you can walk by yourself, we can leave right away.” He replies. The man takes out a wad of bills quickly counts the money and pays for the bill.

You stay speechless until entering the car.

“Who are you?”

“I’m your bodyguard. Your father hired me to look out for you after the kidnapping.”

You nod in acknowledgment. “Will you be staying at the estate with me? Or is it a ‘only when I leave the house’ kind of deal?”

“My primary duty is to protect you from anyone or anything that could harm you, whether that be outside or inside the house. I could go wherever you wish me to follow you, and I will be there.”

“You won’t sleep in bed with me though, right?”

He stays silent for a moment.

“You are correct, I am here to protect, nothing more. I will not sleep next to you. I am merely your bodyguard and take your orders.”

“Good boy,” you grin, “I bet Daddy will pay you very nicely. Why else would you take this job? How much does he give you? Either way, I’m sure you have enough to buy a mansion.”

The bodyguard holds back an eye roll. “I will have more than enough money. Not only that but he also provides me with a home.” He adds with a smirk.

“Good.” You reply.

You fall silent, allowing him to drive, taking in the past few days.

You were never worried about surviving, You understood that Daddy would handle it. But you didn’t expect to be as hurt as you were.

He could’ve saved you sooner.

“When we get home, order the chef to make me something sweet, I deserve a treat,” you state, “I’m going to shower and you are not allowed to enter my bathroom under any circumstance. Even if I’m dying.”

“You would die before letting me enter your bathroom? I get it.” He retorts.

Once you both arrive at the estate, you stumble out of the car. You don’t linger for him.

You’re welcomed by a handful of workers as you enter the home, but ignore them as you make a beeline up the stairs and towards the bedroom.

The door locks behind you and the room is silent. You feel the weariness creep on as your wounds sting. You lean against the door, sliding down.

After a moment of peace, you head towards the shower to comb the dried blood out of your hair.

You scrub your face carefully, avoiding the stitches above your eyebrows.

You wash your body entirely, removing the blood stains with soap, water, and a wash rag. Then you comb out the dried blood.

Once you finish, you dry yourself off and dress in a plain, silk nightdress.

Leaving your bedroom, you turn to look for your guard. He is at the doorway of your room when you walk out. His eyes roam around your body for a brief moment, examining the nightgown.

“Do you require assistance?”

“Did you place an order for something sweet, like I asked?” You peer at his suit, moving in to adjust his tie.

He follows your hand as it moves, eyeing you for a few moments before he utters, “I did, the chef will be bringing it to your room once it’s prepared.”

“Good boy.”

You look up at his face once you are pleased with the positioning. You grimace at his sharp, cold face. The blood was dried, brown, and unpleasing. The man’s hand relaxes on the gun holstered on his hip.

“I order you to come into my bedroom.”

His eyebrows crease. He understands his role as your bodyguard— nonetheless, he doesn’t get a kick out of being ordered around in this tone.

He takes a deep breath. “Your wish is my command.”

The room is massive, a silk-covered canopy bed sits in the center of it. He pays no mind to looking around, concentrating on the job at hand.

“Sit down on my bed,” you demand, steering towards the bathroom and pushing open the double doors.

He obeys your orders without question, crossing his legs, and keeping his hand resting beside his gun.

The bodyguard keeps a close, attentive eye on the doors, supervising the way that you soak a washrag with warm water, squeezing out the excess.

You sit beside him, grabbing his chin and leaning into his face. He tenses.

“Relax, I don’t bite,” you smirk, reiterating his first words from the moment he met you back to him, massaging the dried blood off of his face, “No guard of mine will have a messy appearance.”

You can tell that he feels uneasy, but he can’t reject you. If you wish for him to relax, he will make an effort to relax.

You can’t help but notice his complexion when he isn’t scowling. The apathy melts away as you wipe the dried blood, giving you a new perspective on his appearance.

“You’re handsome,” you state bluntly, “Especially without blood covering your face.”

You toss the rag into the laundry basket carelessly, waiting for a maid to take care of it.

“Thank you.”

“What is your name? You never told me.”

His eyebrows arch slightly at the question.“It’s Minho.”

“I am Y/N,” You reply, holding out your hand to shake his own. His grip is firm and warm.

He keeps a stoic face as he glances at your face and back at your hand, as if he is searching for an ulterior motive behind this handshake.

The food.

The bell rings and the sound of it shatters the stillness of the room. Minho’s head jolts towards the door, hand back on his gun.

He rises instantly, opening it to reveal the maid with a tray of sweet snacks.

He takes it from her. “I will bring it in.”

“What a good boy, Minho,” you praise, clapping your hands together as he sets the tray on your lap.

“I don’t take you for a man who enjoys sweet food much. Do you like sweets?”

“Sometimes.”

You unwrap a piece of high-dollar chocolate, “I command you to open your mouth.”

Minho can’t deny you, it would be disobeying your orders.

He opens his mouth as the chocolate is positioned between his lips.

You relish in the chocolates with Minho and once finished, you set the tray on the floor for a maid to pick up at sunrise.

“I don’t think I mind you being around all that much, Daddy makes good decisions.” You lay down on the mattress.

“Your father does make good decisions.”

His gaze wavered on your face until you drifted off to sleep. Only then did they slowly trail down to your body.

The way your body was built captivated him. Minho was glued to your sleeping form.

He stayed in the room, taking a seat on a chair in the corner to watch you.

He didn’t know how long it had been since you had dozed off, but by the way that the room was now pitch black and noiseless aside from your figure rising and falling, he would imagine that it had been a couple of hours.

“How long are you going to sit there?” Your sleep-filled voice questions him, causing him to snap out of his daze, hand reaching for his gun out of instinct.

“Do you sleep? Are you allowed to sleep?”

“I will only remain in the room as long as you order me to. I do sleep,” He replies, “Now is there anything else you need my assistance with? Or can I return to my duties?”

“So you’re only staying in the room because I ordered you two hours ago?” There’s a tinge of dismay in your voice, but it was masked by sleep, “You can leave if you want, I don’t mind.”

Minho felt a sudden pit in his stomach. You sounded disappointed by his statement.

Your words are perplexing him, and he can’t conclude what you want from him. To stay or to go?

“Should I stay for a bit longer?”

You were already asleep again once he had responded.

You and Minho both wake to a maid opening the blinds and ringing a bell. You groan, stretching your body.

“Miss, let’s get you dressed for today.”

She pulls your nightgown up above your head as Minho’s eyes wander toward your laced underwear.

“What’s on my schedule for today?”

He quickly forces his gaze to look away and stares back at the maid.

“We want you to heal from your injuries, miss,” she answers, “we will start with a nutritious breakfast to encourage recovery, and attend to your injuries, and then you will speak with Daddy about your incident.”

The maid buttons your fitted dress, glancing in Minho’s direction, “Your bodyguard will need to be there for your conversation with Daddy.”

“He will?”

“He needs to tell Daddy what he witnessed from the facility.”

You nod, following her lead down the stairs and towards the breakfast table.

Minho follows suit, remaining at your side the entire time and he watches you eat, staying observant and cautious.

“Are you hungry?”

This question catches Minho off guard.

“No.” He adds in a dull tone— but in actuality, he is starving. He was entrusted to watch over you. He shouldn’t eat on the clock.

“Maid, go order,” You look Minho up and down, “A side of crepes. Blueberry crepes. And two cups of coffee.”

The maid hurries to the kitchen to place the order, and it is brought out a couple of minutes later.

He stares at the crepes being placed on the table, and his belly grumbles. “Thank you.”

The maid carries the mugs of coffee to the table. But it doesn’t take Minho long to catch sight of her cunning smile and the perplexing liquid that the maid slipped into the mugs of coffee.

He stares quietly, calculating his next action.

“Don’t drink it.”

“Why not?”

Minho’s sight narrows as you bring the cup of coffee to your lips.

This time, his tone is warning and direct. “It’s better that you don’t.”

You halt your sip at his harsh command.

The maid pulls out a handgun swiftly after realizing that she has been caught, aiming it at you.

A switch swiftly flips inside of him.

He lunges forward, grabbing the woman’s wrist and twisting the gun to the right, snapping a couple of fingers in the process.

It’s a rapid movement, and he had little time to think before shooting her in the head, watching the life leave her body. His face is apathetic and almost casual.

The maid’s blood spilled onto the floor as the others ran to clean it up.

“He passed the test, we can keep him. A promising guard so far,” Daddy compliments from behind you, “Urgently acting to protect. He knew that she was mindless and weak. He comprehends crises well.”

The older man slips a wad of cash into the breast pocket of Minho’s suit. “Good on protecting her. That was a setup with a stupid maid who was just aching to betray us. You will have the same fate if you are wavered by another team.”

“I think he’s a good boy. He won’t betray me.”

“Y/N, meet me at my office. Guard, follow her.” He swiftly turns away to lead the two of you as you eye Minho.

“You can relax now. No more tests.”

He nods in understanding, heeding silently towards the office.

“Tell me about what you saw at the facility.”

You nod. “Four men had taken me from our garden entrance and used Chloroform to knock me unconscious. I woke up in their van, where my hands and legs were tied. I heard them talking about what they planned to get out of me. They had intentions of murdering me if they got to a week of no answers.”

Minho listens to your explanation with hawk-like eyes, paying close attention to all the details and descriptions.

You clear your throat, running your fingers across your bruised wrist, “I was tied to a chair in their questioning room, and they used forms of torture for me to open up.”

“I was deprived of sleep and beaten if they caught me closing my eyes— trying to get my lack of sleep to cause me to open up about your activities.”

Daddy nodded solemnly, leaning into his chair.

“Waterboarding was their favorite method, but they enjoyed beating me. I assume that was mainly for fun.”

You continued, “Minho appeared and killed a couple of them and saved me, but most are still alive.”

“Still alive? You didn’t find and kill them, bodyguard, why?” Daddy’s intense eyes moved toward Minho, who appeared unbothered.

The fact that he missed a few guys is enough to drive him crazy.

“I had to get her to safety as soon as possible.”

Daddy merely nods. “I will send my men after them. Y/N, did you get any names?”

“They wouldn’t tell me anything about themselves, but I saw a couple of signs of their rival gang.”

“Guard,” he veered towards Minho, “Describe the faces that you saw. I need as much information as possible.”

“They look to be between the ages of 20 to 30, their faces covered in scars. One man had dark skin, and his facial scars were faded. His most notable feature was a slit across his brow. He wore a dark suit. I left him alive but with a bullet in his arm. The other man had a lighter skin tone and his scars were similar to knife wounds. He had gotten away.”

The boss nods.

“Good. I can work with that. Never let my little girl get into trouble like that again, alright?”

The second the words ‘my little girl’ leave his mouth, Minho can’t help but gaze at you. He observes your reactions and motions.

His heart beats by hearing his boss call you that, and his attention is now focused on every single twitch that you make.

“The nurses will be waiting in her bedroom shortly. Be good and do as they say.” He adds, snapping Minho back to him.

“Guard, do not let her go against any of the nurses' rules. She can be convincing. Do not give into it.”

“Yes Sir.”

You roll your eyes, turning away to leave the room.

“Stay safe.” That is the last utterance of the boss before you drag Minho out of the room and towards the bedroom.

“Sit on the bed,” a nurse commands you, and you quickly obey.

She dabs at your abdomen stitches with antiseptic soap and your eyebrows furrow.

“You can’t move around much, got it? No exercising for three weeks until we get these stitches out.”

You agree as she moves on to your wrists, rubbing cream into them, “You’re going to visit us twice a day for six days until the healing is almost complete.”

She yanks a bandage off of your face, causing you to groan in pain. She rubs another ointment on it before substituting it with fresh dressing.

Minho supervises each step that the nurse takes, noticing how she takes care of your body as if it’s her most precious gift.

She turns to Minho, “I need you to make sure that she’s well rested, drinking enough water, and not doing many straining activities. Take her back here once again in the evening, and then we will see her again this time tomorrow morning, got it?”

“Yes, I will take care of her.”

“What about him, nurse?” You eye the small cuts across his face and hands.

She smiles and leans over to you. “He is well trained. Trust me, he’ll survive a few scratches.”

Your eyes narrow. “I order you to treat his wounds to the best of your abilities.”

She sighs. “Yes ma’am.”

She moves towards Minho and checks his wounds, patching the ones that were newly caused. She brushes his face softly with an ointment.

“I don’t like it when my guards don’t keep up a good appearance,” you try to explain away your worry for him, “and being injured will only slow you down when protecting me.”

The man stares straight ahead, listening carefully. “I’m fine. I’ll recover just fine. I don’t need much care as you do.”

“Let her rest now,” the nurse tells Minho, “order the maids to bring her a glass of water and have her sip on it until lunchtime.”

Once she leaves, Minho turns towards you, “I’ll make sure the maids bring you water. You need to stay hydrated”

Once water is on your table, your gaze returns to Minho

“Now, I order you to sit down on my bed with me.”

He examines you with a neutral expression and waits for you to say what you mean, not wishing to assume or take anything wrongly.

“Sit down with me,” you demand again, patting the spot beside you, waiting for him to follow suit.

As soon as you ask him to, Minho does not waver. He sits down beside you, body brushing your own.

You turn to meet his cold expression with intensity. “Do you like your job so far?

Minho is taken off guard by your switch of topic. He stays where he is sitting, but turns his body as well and faces you.

“I enjoy my duties.”

“Good. Because I’m fond of you. You’re handsome, and you are good at your job.”

He stares at you with slight surprise. “Thank you.”

Your hands grab for his, playing with the ring on his finger.

Then, you reach your hands higher, tugging his sleeve up to reveal a cluster of scars littered across his forearm.

“How long have you been in the business?”

“Since I was fourteen. I was trained from a very young age.”

“Have you always been in Daddy’s family?”

“I was loyal to your Daddy from the moment I knew what this life was like. I haven’t had a moment of doubt.”

“Good. That means you won’t leave us, right?”

“I will serve your family until my last breath. You have nothing to fear about that.”

“What a good boy,” you reach to ruffle his hair, landing a swift kiss on his sliced cheek. “That’s exactly what I like to hear.”

Minho stiffens.

“I order you to take off your jacket. I want to see your body. To see if you’re strong enough to be a good guard.”

Your words are sharp as a knife and they cut deep through his defense system. His jaw clamps and his breathing accelerates.

Minho swallows his breath, nodding his head. His movements are rigid, starting to cautiously peel off his jacket. It takes him a moment to unbutton it, but once his jacket is off, he stays there, waiting.

You slide his jacket to the floor, touching the muscles of his bicep through his button-down. “You’re fit. That’s good.”

Minho yearns for you to keep feeling him. To keep praising him. He swallows. Your words sound like a honey trap to him, and it’s working as intended.

“I order you to take off your tie.”

“Yes.”

That is all that he says, slowly slipping his tie from underneath his collar and tossing it aside.

Unexpectedly, you’re climbing on top of his body. “Take off your button-down.”

He unbuttons his shirt as your eyes sear into his chest. He is now only wearing a black undershirt.

“So many clothes,” you sigh out, groping his bare arms. You run your hands across his biceps, listening to him shudder underneath the touch.

“Take off your undershirt now. I want to see your chest.”

You can feel the heat radiating off him as he shivers. His body is now sensitive, and your hands are making it worse for him.

Your orders are evident, and he hastily lifts off his undershirt, waiting for what is next.

You can see his whole chest with all of its blemishes, with every muscle covered in sweat, exposed for you.

Your hands travel down his chest and abdomen, feeling each ragged scar with your bruised fingers. The delicate contact causes his breath to catch and a soft groan leaves him, fighting to not show that he relishes in your touch.

“Let me kiss you.”

He stares at you for a moment before his eyebrows slightly shift— his way of showing you that he approves of that request.

Minho leans in slightly and closes his eyes, gently placing a timid kiss on your lips.

You smirk against him, pushing him to lie against the bed frame and deepening the kiss. Your hands reach for his dark hair, clasping a handful in your grip.

He kisses you deeply and wraps his arms around you to pull you in closer, offering full control to you. His breath speeds up.

You pull away after a moment, lips brushing against his as you catch your breath, but only for an instant before moving towards his jaw, sucking marks onto his skin.

Minho quivers at your touch, his breathing speeding up once more as you leave red and purple blemishes on his skin. He bites his lip to stop himself from groaning.

Your mouth moves from his jaw to his neck, leaving kisses and hickeys all across him, making sure that he is covered in them.

Your hips grind against him, breathing heavily with anticipation as you make your way to his chest.

Your hands and mouth are touching all of him, and each sensation triggers a reaction that he tries to conceal.

Your lips hover back to his lips, staring at him longingly. “Do I have to command you for you to do anything to me? You don’t have to ask. You have my permission. Do whatever you want.”

You can see his gaze shifting from your eyes to your mouth, to your neck, and then towards your chest.

You swiftly lift yourself off of him to let him remove your dress, leaving your body as bare as his own.

You grasp onto his neck, bringing him in for another deep kiss. Minho remains silent as he kisses you, allowing you to leave him as many marks as you desire.

“What are you thinking, Minho? Speak to me.”

He takes a moment, letting out an unstable breath. “I’m thinking of what you are doing to me. I,” he stammers, “I want to make you feel good.”

“Then do it. Please.”

“I don’t want to harm you,” he breathes out, “you’re injured.”

“The nurses said to not do,” Minho presses his eyes shut as you bring your hips up to meet his, “fuck, anything straining.”

“Remember what Daddy said? I can be convincing.” You sneer as your bodyguard fails to keep his cool composure, but the aching cock pressing into you is giving his true desires away.

You eye his internal struggle between following your orders and his cravings, or the nurse and his boss.

“I don’t want to hurt you. I can go relieve myself in the bathroom.”

“I like being hurt.”

You notice his lip twitch at the comment, and you decide to provoke him further, grinding into him, and set a steady rhythm with your hips.

He groans as his head drops back, tugging onto your hair and trying desperately to control his breath, “Please, Y/N, I just want to take care of you.”

“You can take care of me in another way.”

“I need to follow orders.”

“Then I order you to fuck me.”

His eyes pinch shut as he tries to clear his head and reason with himself.

Perhaps if he were gentle, it would be alright.

But how long could he remain gentle when you were splayed out in front of him, willing to take anything that he gave to you?

He made his decision, gripping your shoulders gently and flipping you, pinning you to the bed, and surveying your face for any discomfort.

When he finds none, he impatiently unclasps his belt, throwing it to the floor along with his dress pants, leaving him in just his boxers.

You hold yourself up by your elbows, thighs pressed together and mouth watering at the man in front of you.

His hands were delicate, although they could easily snap you in half, as he unclasped your bra, leaving your top half bare.

Minho stopped to take in the view for a moment before grabbing at one of your breasts, his mouth attaching to the other.

Your whines were like music to him— something that he wanted to hear more of.

Your back arched in pleasure as he moved one hand down to your thigh, caressing it for a moment before slowly slipping his hand into your panties.

“Try to stay quiet, darling, I don’t want any staff checking on us,” He hushed you with his lips attaching to your own once again, feeling your wetness all over his calloused hands.

His thumb brushed against your clit and you whimpered into his mouth, clenching around nothing.

Minho then plunged two fingers deep inside of you and curled them. He was becoming lost in pleasing you, overlooking his own ache between his legs.

Your thighs shook beneath him, feeling him brush against your g-spot brutally. “Minho please, please just fuck me. I want you inside of me so bad.”

At your request, he slipped his fingers out, feeling your cries against his lips from the loss of friction.

“Yes ma’am.” He pulled away from your lips, replacing them with his now dripping fingers, lapping it up with his tongue.

Next, your ruined panties were yanked off of you, with his boxers soon to come after.

One hand gently relaxes on your hips, cautious to avoid aggravating your injuries as he uses the other to guide himself inside of you, a deep groan followed by your whines.

He gives you a moment to handle the stretch, but you hardly need it, already begging for him to move.

Minho cautiously thrusts, taking in a deep breath and furrowing his eyebrows in concentration.  This is the ultimate test of patience for him. He needs to be as gentle as possible with you.

Ultimately, he sets a slow pace, hands locating themselves on either side of you, letting out uneven breaths as he tries to control himself from how good you feel around him.

“You really do care, don’t you?” Your hand reaches to cup his face, gazing into his eyes that are hazy with pleasure.

He keeps his response short, too concentrated on the waves of bliss through each thrust, “I do care.”

“Is it because you’re my bodyguard or something more?”

You study him, watching his adam’s apple move as he swallows deeply, inhaling sharply. He halts his thrusts for a brief instant.

“Both, maybe. I can’t tell.”

That was enough for you to continue, grabbing another handful of his hair and bringing him in for another hungry, deep kiss.

With each deep thrust, Minho’s mind got hazier and hazier, losing himself to pleasure bit by bit. You could feel it by the way his rhythm became rough and desperate, and his pace picked up.

One of his hands left your side, creeping towards your throbbing clit, causing you to let out sobs, all of which he ate up with his mouth against your own.

“Are you gonna cum for me?” He coos, knowing that you’re too lost in bliss to respond.

He takes your whines as a ‘yes’, his thumb rubbing circles faster, coaxing your orgasm out of you.

Your walls fluttered around him, squeezing your eyes closed and letting out a lengthy, drawn-out moan as his pace picked up even further.

“Just like that. You’re so good for me, so, so good, fuck,” he talked you through your orgasm between his thrusts, chasing his own high.

His brows crease, hips stuttering at how good it felt to have you gripping so tightly onto his cock. Finally, he let go, his load spilling inside of you and seeping out.

Both of you took an instant to catch your breath, coming down from your highs.

His hands slowly traced your curves in contentment, paying attention to the way your chest rose and fell.

Finally, he has a justification to gape at your body up close.

From your jawline to your hickey-covered chest, down to your bruised sides and stitches near your abdomen, and— Oh fuck.

Your wounds.

Minho slowly pulls away, feeling a sense of post-nut clarity and fright.

His hand slides away from your body, staring at you with concern.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, your own anxiety suddenly displayed on your face, “Do you regret it?”

“No! No,” He panics, “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?“

Back in reality now, your wounds ache and your head pounds with exhaustion and overexertion.

His mind calculates the solutions to the situation— ways to explain to the nurses, to fix you, to help you feel better.

It was his shortcoming, after all. He let his urges get to him.

“Let’s run you a bath.” He pulls himself up, tugging on his boxers and heading towards the bathroom.

You hear the tap turn on, lying in bed trying to catch your breath. Your breath is harsh from both adrenaline and pain, but you can’t help but feel as though the latter is more of the cause.

You had slept with a small handful of men, primarily Daddy’s men, but none of them were quite like Minho.

He was tough but breakable. He was still kindhearted at his core— something that wasn’t all that common in the business.

You could tell from the way that he ran the bath, bare muscles glistening from sweat, running his hand through the water to make sure that it was the ideal temperature. How concerned he was about your protection, even through his pleasure.

Not many other men that you’ve met throughout your life have been the same way.

You’re quite fond of the man that you have just met.

You hear the water shut off and footsteps coming towards the room. He holds a faint smile as his steps come towards the bed. Your gaze slowly wanders to his physique.

“It’s ready for you.” He says in a slight whisper.

“I order you to pick me up and bring me to the bath.”

He nods at your order, hooking his arms underneath your thighs and back, his strong grip securing you.

You inhale the powerful stench of gunpowder stuck to his skin, finding comfort in your bodyguard’s presence.

“Will you wash my hair?”

Studying his expression, it’s hard to read, but you let him carry you and place you into the water.

‘I do care,’ you recall his words.

‘Is it because you’re my bodyguard or something more?’ ‘Both, maybe. I can’t tell.’

Perhaps you had feelings for the man, especially while he massaged shampoo into your scalp with tough hands, making sure to rub your temples.

“Have you ever been a bodyguard before?”

When Minho hears your question, he hums while he proceeds to wash you, working on scrubbing the areas where he touched you earlier. “No, you’re the first one I’ve been a bodyguard for.”

“I did things for your father before this. Not as a bodyguard, a more, I guess, dangerous role,” he dismisses the question.

“Is that so?” You fall to silence as he continues to wash you, taking his time and guaranteeing that he gets every part. He hesitates when he washes around your injuries— every stroke and movement of his hands is smooth and temperate.

“Let me relax for a minute alone,” you murmur, “You should put your clothes back on, the maids should be here any moment to take my order for lunch. They won’t find it suspicious that I’m bathing, but they will question why you’re with me.”

Minho nods and pulls away from your body.

He stands up and his feet splash on the wet floor. He takes a double take at your closed eyes.

The way your body floats in the bath is something that catches his attention. You look very pleasing in such a vulnerable position.

He leaves the room, cracking the door to make sure that you are safe.

Minho buttons up his wrinkled shirt, pulling the jacket over it and smoothing it out to ensure that nobody suspects anything.

Minho’s eyes turn to the maid who enters the room with the ring of a bell.

His demeanor is unfazed, a hand on the gun in his pocket once more. He holds eye contact, his stare intense.

He would make sure that there wasn’t another incident.

“Where is Miss Y/N?”

“She is bathing at the moment.”

She nods, walking towards the bathroom and knocking on the door.

You hum, allowing her to enter.

“What would you like for lunch, ma’am?”

“I don’t know, surprise me.”

A few seconds go by as you immerse yourself entirely in the water before rising back to the surface.

“Minho,” you call out, “What would you like?”

You hear the faint sigh that Minho gives as a response back to your question.

“I’ll just have a sandwich or something, whatever you have is fine.” He replies to both you and the maid as she exits the bathroom, fulfilling her duty of reporting your lunch choice.

The bedroom door shuts behind her.

“Minho!” You call out once again, “I order you to take me out of the bath.”

A few seconds pass before you hear Minho’s footsteps come near the bathroom once again. He grabs a towel as you stand, body bare and dripping with water.

His eyes have an intense focus as he reaches out his hand.

Minho pulls you up from the bath wraps the towel around you, making sure to cover all of you, and begins to dry off your hair.

“Minho,” you begin, “Daddy can’t know about what happened. He’d shoot you dead on the spot.”

Minho pauses for a moment, his eyes darting across the floor.

He is silent for a moment. “I won’t reveal anything to him.”

“Good boy,” you cling to the towel covering your body, “Go fetch a maid to dress me. While she does so, I want you to change out of that suit and shower before lunch.”

“Then I’ll go shower now. I’ll be back.”

You hum in agreement, stepping towards your bedroom as a maid rings the bell.

You drop your towel, letting her sift through your drawers to find decent clothing.

She eyes a hickey on your breast, along with the other injuries across your body from the kidnapping.

“Your injuries look agitated, Miss Y/N, are you sure that a bath was the best idea for you?”

“Don’t question me,” you grumble, “I took a bath because I wanted to.”

“Yes, miss.” She pulls the dress above your head smoothes it out, and clasps a necklace behind your neck.

“You’re all set for lunch.”

The moment that you come out of your room, you can feel his presence. He is leaning against the front door of the room with an unreadable expression.

He has another suit on, a fresh one. Minho’s previously muskier, dark scent has been replaced by a new, sweeter fragrance.

“First shower at the estate?” You question, “Our soaps are quite lovely and mild on the skin. You smell wonderful.”

Minho’s lips curl at the compliment, looking you up and down, “Seems that we both are putting our best foot forward.”

You look around to see if anyone is watching before leaning to ruffle his damp hair and leave a kiss on his cheek, taking the man by complete surprise. He makes an effort to regain his composure, but you can see that his cheeks are blushed from the touch.

As soon as you lean in to lock arms, you feel him lean over to you to whisper something.

“I would love to do that with you again.”

You froze in your spot, heat rushing to your thighs.

You must regain your composure, caught off guard by his blunt words, something unlike the ordinary nature of Minho.

He takes a seat across from you, watching every move that the maid makes to be sure that she doesn’t try anything— he has learned his lesson.

“Pressed Italian Picnic Sandwiches and tea,” The maid states, setting the plates on the table.

You scrunch my nose up. “What’s in it?”

“Artisanal prosciutto, aged provolone, and sun-dried tomatoes inside of a crusty ciabatta,” She doesn’t hesitate to list the ingredients, “and a fragrant blend of rare loose-leaf teas with fresh cream and sugar cubes.”

She sets the teapot and cups out, along with a carton of cream and a bowl of sugar cubes.

Minho’s hand rests on his gun, waiting for her to leave before taking a sip of tea.

You follow his action, dumping a couple of cubes into your tea and bringing it to your lips.

I finish my lunch with Minho.

“Let’s go back to my room now. I'm exhausted.”

Minho nods his head and you both finish up the meals quickly.

You both leave the dining area and stroll back to your bedroom.

As soon as you get back into the room, you feel Minho close the door behind you.

You don’t hesitate to climb into bed and lie down.

The guard looks over at you, observing the way that your chest rises and falls as you breathe. He notices every movement that your body is making.

“I command you to lay down with me.” You lean back against the bed, your body still and eyes focused on his unmoving body.

He slips off his shoes silently, slipping into the canopy bed.

You grin, curling at his side, pressing against his body.

His breathing is deep and steady as he struggles to get into a more comfortable position.

Your mind began racing with questions about the mysterious man that you were slowly falling for, burying yourself further into the sheets.

“Minho,” you start slowly, “How did you become tangled with our family?”

Minho stays silent for a few moments and you feel his body shift a little against yours.

“I didn’t have a lot of money or family growing up,” he kept his answer short and simply, “the moment that this job came my way, I took it. The people connected to this business have always stayed on the down low, so this is an easy job to keep."

“Daddy seems to like you,” you grit your teeth.

Minho turns to you on the bed and sits up a little. He looks at you from top to bottom, reading the worry on your face with ease.

“You don’t have to worry about me.”

“He will kill you on the spot if he finds out. He’s done that to almost every man who has flirted or slept with me.”

You pause for a moment. “God forbid the one he hired as my bodyguard.”

“I am not so easily killed.” The words leave his mouth with a tinge of arrogance.

“I trust you.”

“Good.”

There is stillness between you both for a time, but he breaks it by grabbing your chin and leaning in to kiss you. You soothe into his touch, smiling against his lips briefly before he pulls away.

“I order you to stay here. Like this.”

It’s not difficult for you to drift off to sleep beside him, and as always, Minho pursues your request, keeping a close eye on you. You relax, your breathing slow, and he notes all of the occasional twitches and movements that you make in your sleep.

A couple of hours later, the door is knocked on by a maid.

“Dinner order?”

Minho jolts awake from the knock on the door, a hand swiftly placed on your shoulder to protect you from any threats before turning his head towards the noise.

His voice is full of sleep. “Repeat that?”

As she opens the door, there is a look of inquiry on her face, one that she won’t ask to ensure her job and health.

“Is she asleep?” She questions instead, glancing over at your peaceful figure.

He turns his head towards you to double-check, observing your napping body.

“Yes.”

“Alright. I’ll advise the chef to prepare her dinner later tonight.”

She gives a sharp nod to the guard and scurries out of the room, quietly shutting the door to not disturb the girl.

Minho’s eyes rest on the door for a moment, fully alert now with a hand resting on his gun.

Eventually, he turns over to you. He has his eyes on you for a few seconds before leaning down to kiss you on the forehead, letting out a small sigh.

You stir at the warm touch, scrunching your face up and stretching your body.

“What time is it?” You ask groggily before burying your head into his neck.

“Dinner is in about half an hour. You hungry?”

“Not really,” you pull yourself up and rub your sleep-filled eyes.

He notices your body shiver as you pull yourself up. Minho lets out a short exhale.

“Did you sleep?”

“A bit.” He doesn’t look away or turn his head as he admires the way you stand and stretch your body, smoothing your dress of its wrinkles.

You walk towards your vanity mirror, plopping down in the chair to readjust your necklace to the center. A few marks on your collarbone catch your eye.

“The nurses will be in shortly.” You grit your teeth. “I hope they don’t notice.”

“They won’t notice.”

His figure can be seen from behind you in the reflection of the mirror. His lips are turned upwards as he watches you fix your appearance.

You pull out a couple of foundations and concealers, working on concealing the marks left from earlier.

“The maids wouldn’t, but the nurses will tell the difference between a hickey and a bruise. Especially since these are fresh.”

Even though you are busy with your makeup and covering up the bruises, Minho’s eyes are never off of you. It is a feeling that you will have to get used to— always having a watchful eye on you.

Once you were satisfied with the coverage, you rose from your seat quickly.

“Get up, we’re going to dinner.”

“So bossy.” He retorts. “What will you have?”

“I want to go out, let’s go somewhere fancy. Daddy will pay.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You want to go out when you have had a beating just two days ago?”

He asks it like he thinks it’s an absurd idea, almost condescendingly, yet his tone of voice is soft and full of concern for you, causing your stomach to flip inside out.

“I’m tired of staying inside already. This estate is suffocating,” you pull on your slip-on shoes.

“That’s how I got myself into this mess in the first place. I left the house and got kidnapped. That won’t happen with you here.”

“I guess you’re right. We’ll go somewhere nice.”

“Good. I’ll go tell Daddy.” You leave the door open for Minho to come after but don’t wait for him, yet you can tell that he follows behind silently, attending to the way your body moves in the dress as you make your way down the halls.

The door is slightly ajar, so when you knock, it pushes open with a creak, revealing your father inside.

Minho stands behind you like a shadow, his lips pressed into a straight line, gaze locked on your father, keeping his distance from the both of you.

“Come inside,” the older man invites both of them with a welcoming grin, “sit.”

You can sense that your father has something on his mind, which is never a good sign.

“I was going to call you to my office shortly, anyway.” Instantly you assume the worst.

You sit down, taking a seat in front of him. Minho is still standing in the back, his priority on you and your father.

The man looks over at Minho. Their eyes lock for a moment. “Guard, go lock the door. There is a conversation that needs to be had.”

Minho nods and he turns his head, locking the door behind him.

He turns his attention back to you, who is frozen in your seat, breath hitching.

The elite man fiddles with a pen at his desk, clicking it to drown out the tense silence.

The silence in the room seems so heavy that you wonder how neither you nor Minho is feeling sick. Judging by the thick atmosphere between the three of you, it is easy to tell that he isn’t pleased right now.

He fidgets with the pen and you wait for him to finally speak.

“Do you find my daughter to be precious, Guard?” He addresses Minho with a stern voice, finally setting the pen down at his wooden desk with a smack.

“Yes sir,” Minho replies flatly.

“Are you willing to protect her at all costs, even at your life?”

After moments of silence, he answers back confidently. “Yes sir. I am.”

A hand comes to rest at his side, toying loudly with a handgun, which he eventually pulls out of his pocket.

Tears begin to well up in your eyes, yet Minho stays concentrated. There isn’t a single sign of fear on his face. He is unshaken, calm, and collected as if he had been foreseeing this exact scenario.

“Do you know why you were assigned to guard my daughter, Minho?”

“I know the reasons.”

“There was a leak to the rivals from a previous staff member that I had a precious daughter in my life,” He turns towards you, “the one that I had climbed to the top of my career to protect and assure her safety and security.”

He cleared his throat before darting back to Minho, “It took less than a day for her to be taken from my hands and placed in the hands of one of my greatest enemies.”

Minho pays attention to every word that he speaks and clears his throat, waiting for your father to continue.

“I care for my daughter more than anything in the world. Which is why I had appointed the most valuable, honest, and competent man in the family to ensure her protection.”

Minho nods.

“Please don’t kill him, Daddy.”

The boss meets you with cold eyes, disregarding your words to proceed with his lecture. “You are my most prized possession. I would hurt anyone or anything to make sure that not a single person touches you. The men who kidnapped you are all taken care of, wiped out by my command.”

He continues. “I know everything that goes on in your life. Every meal, every kiss, every injury, the staff must report every minor thing that occurs in your day. I have eyes on you at all times, and you’re more than aware of that.”

Your shoulders stiffen. He knew.

“Minho,” his stare is burning into the other man, “I’ll get to the point. Did you sleep with my daughter?”

He doesn’t blink. His body tenses up and his voice remains neutral.

“Yes.”

The boss turns the safety off of his firearm and you dig your head into your hands, unable to observe the scene that is about to unfold.

The gunshot is fired, but the man deliberately aims to the left of Minho, grazing his cheek with the bullet before standing up instantly from his seat. The guard doesn’t react with more than a blink as the blood pools at the cut.

“I trust you, Minho. You are a good man. If there is a single person who I would choose to give my daughter to, it would be you.”

Finally, Minho takes this as a sign to let his guard down for a moment as his shoulders drop, lip quivering slightly. It was evident that there was more emotion that the guard was holding back, especially when he took a moment to look away.

“You have my approval.”

Your eyes widen.

“Take care of my daughter. If you break her heart, I’ll feed your own heart to her for supper.”

“Understood.”

“Take her to dinner,” a wad of cash is pulled out from one of the drawers, “buy her flowers and anything else that she asks for.”

“Yes sir.” He responds, “I’ll make sure that she gets the treatment that she deserves.”

You run to embrace your father, to which he places an arm around you, rubbing your back before pulling away.

“Get yourself dressed more sufficiently, I will have a car ready for you soon.”

Minho follows you out of his office, letting out a breath that he had been holding in once the door was closed.

“Did you hear that?” Do you know what this means?” You beam at the man before grabbing at his cheeks and pulling him in for a kiss.

He lets out a surprised noise, hesitantly wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing back.

When you break the kiss, he stares back at you with the first big smile that you’ve seen from him displayed on his face.

“Let’s get you ready.”

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ja3yun · 2 months

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Melting Point | P.SH | CH.1

brother's rival!sunghoon x fem!reader warnings: heavily suggestive, kissing, perv!hoon, mentions of self doubt and overthinking, yn's mum is an asshole, anything else lmk! ch.1 synopsis: when circumstances unexpectedly bring you and your brother's long-time ice skating rival, park sunghoon, together, you discover a surprising connection. However, your brother forbids any relationship between you. Will you heed his advice or follow your heart? wc: 14.3k masterlist | next a/n: hi! first chapter is finally here and i hope you all like it. each chapter will be released on friday and roughly between 10k - 16k (since people wanted longer chapters, however, i am open to any feedback regarding lengths). enjoy and please leave any comments/likes/reblogs if you wish !! also, peep the new header

‘We’re dancing, dancing, dancing in the moonlight.'

The blaring of your alarm pulls you from the cocoon of sleep, and you groan into your pillow. The idea of getting up before 6 am feels like a crime, yet here you are, abruptly awakened at 4:30 am by the dulcet tones of TO1.

With a begrudging sigh, you reach for your phone, dismissing the alarm, and then collapse back, staring at the ceiling. This routine has been a part of your life since childhood, and you'd think you'd be accustomed to it by now. However, no matter how early you sleep, removing yourself from the warmth of your bed remains a daily struggle.

You can hear your brother and mum scooting around downstairs, their usual ‘Do you have everything?’, ‘Where are the car keys?’, ‘Get your sister’ conversations louder than they need to be at this time in the day. The last one does mean you better get a move on and go downstairs.

While you put on your peach-flavoured chapstick, your brother bursts into your room, “Hurry up, Y/N.” His eyes roll and he slams the door shut as quickly as he opens it.

You have had the same routine since you were 6 years old. Same exchanges, same panic, same everything.

Minhee, your older brother, is the reason you have this same routine. When he was 6 years old, Mum took you and him ice skating for the first time and he was a natural. His feet took to the ice like fish to water, like chocolate to strawberries, like you to garlic bread. It was fated. By 7 years old he was already training and what was once a fun hobby turned into a gruelling regime of early rises and the need for a good winter jacket.

“2 minutes!” You shout down to them, one quick glance over in the mirror to make sure you look presentable.

Running down the stairs you’re greeted by your impatient mum tapping her foot, “Come on, Y/N we really can’t be late today. Coach Kim needs us there as soon as possible. Big announcement.” Her hands are flapping around animated as she speaks, “I think he’s finally going to let Minhee try that quadruple axel we’ve been begging him to let him do for Nationals!”

Your brother looks disinterested, “Mum, he’s already said it’s out of my depth.” His tone is bitter.

Minhee was amazing at ice skating, winning so many medals your mum had you move out of your double room to the box one so she could display them all. By 10 he was the youngest ever in your city to reach state championships and by 14 he was competing at the National level. It did make him the golden, silver, and bronze child in your family, but you didn’t mind all that much - not that you would tell her it did.

It’s not like you’re doing anything half as impressive as winning trophies, now that was what your mother truly found pride in. You could become a CEO or a lawyer but if you couldn’t hit a toe loop worthy of gold it wouldn’t impress her.

You did try skating when you were younger but it was like you turned into Bambi, never able to find your feet. Even when it snows in winter you can’t hold yourself up. Deep down your mum hoped you would be just like Minhee, creating an opportunity for you both to branch into pair figure skating like the Shib Sibs but no matter how many times Minhee tried to teach you or she got his coach to give you a few free pointers, you couldn’t do it. She’s disappointed and quite frankly you think she holds a grudge against you for not being anything like your amazing, spectacular, talented brother.

But you still loved to watch the sport, how efficiently and painlessly each skater would glide across the ice and do manoeuvres that defied gravity. It was a magical sport, so when your mum dragged you along to every practice because she couldn’t afford a babysitter, you didn’t mind all that much.

Tying up your final lace you stand up from the bottom step and Minhee passes you your black jacket with faux fur lining. You mutter a quick ‘thanks’ before grabbing your book bag and all three of you head to the car.

"What if it's the Olympics!" Squealing, your mother fastens her seatbelt. What if it was the Olympics? Despite consistently finishing in the top three, if not first, in most major competitions in his teenage years, his coach never selected him for the Youth Olympic Games. But now that he’s 20 years old, he could compete in the Olympics.

Your brother looks sideways at your mother and widens his eyes, "You think so?" It was his dream to make it to the Olympics, and even if he didn't win, he wanted to experience everything; the different country, being surrounded by the best of the best - he had been planning his routine for it forever.

There is a little envious man who climbs up on your shoulder from time to time when conversations like this happen. Of course, you would be so happy for Minhee, after all, he works harder than anyone you know but you wish it was you. Not necessarily the skating part, but to be so good at something you have a goal and dreams that take you to the top. Just something to make you feel alive.

You’re in your 2nd year of University studying Events and Marketing after your mum said it would be good for you to learn how to pitch reasons why Minhee would be a great brand ambassador. So you did it to please her. Honestly, you actually do enjoy it, you won’t lie about that, but the lack of appreciation for your efforts goes unnoticed 99% of the time. The 1% was when you got to shadow a boss at a Nike headquarters branch a few cities over.

“Get a good word in for Minhee while you’re there!”

She was proud of you that day.

As the car rolls up to the rink’s parking lot your mother turns serious, “If this is about choosing you for the Olympics, Min, you need to act excited and unexpectant, they may be filming a behind-the-scenes documentary on your journey to a gold medal.”

Image. Your mum was big on keeping Minhee’s reputation on brand. Right now his ‘brand’ is being humble and noble.

“Yes mum,” he salutes, “Smile and flutter.” Winking and smirking as he mocks his usual signature poses causes you to laugh but your mum finds nothing funny and her change in aura scares both of you out of the car.

_____

The usually quiet ice rink is filled with chatter and chaos, with over 20 people speaking over each other. Minhee looks down at you and you shrug. None of you had any clue what was going on but if your years of watching Detective Conan paid off you would say that whatever caused this commotion was the reason the coach asked Minhee to come in as quickly as possible.

Customarily, at this time in the morning, it’s Minhee’s solo practice hours to work on his routine for Nationals so this many people here is concerning.

“Listen!” Coach Kim’s voice bellowed around the arena putting the chattering to a halt, “I know this is untimely and inconvenient, trust me, it is for me too,” Your eyes follow his and see another coach standing about 2 meters from him, “But we need to make this work and to do that I need you to listen to me.”

As your family approaches the disarray, Coach Kim beckons you all forward. Minhee is the first to ask the all too important question, “What’s going on, Coach?” The people behind you scatter and begrudgingly tread out of the building, their faces glum and disgruntled.

“Minhee, Ms. Kang, Y/N,” Coach Kim greets you all, “Sorry about all that, although telling them was a lot less scary than you.”

“What? Is this place shutting down?” Minhee jokes but by the look on Coach Kim’s face he isn’t far off.

“Not exactly.” Scratching his neck, Coach Kim looks everywhere but Minhee’s eyes, “You know the Albion Centre? The rink on the other side of town?” All three of you nod despite that he’s only talking to your brother, “Well the council had a little meeting last week and they’re turning it fully into a Hockey training centre.”

The words sit in the air as he hopes Minhee will come to the conclusion himself, “So what? Just means more time for skating here right? If all the Hockey team are going over there?”

Sighing, the coach nods, “For sure, but it also means every skater from there will be, well, here.” He gestures around and then points half-heartedly at the other Coach who is stepping forward.

“Kang Minhee, it’s great to meet you properly, I’ve heard nothing but great things,” he extends his hand which your brother accepts, still dazed from the information, “I’m Coach Lee.”

“Wait so, EVERY skater in the town will be here? in Belmore? Coach Kim, that's not possible, my training time will be cut!” Minhee is sulking but you don’t blame him. This is a fucked up situation.

Coach Lee answers, “Not true, Minhee, with the Hockey team over at Albion it frees up some ice time, you’ll get to train more if you want to.”

“And! No more shield guards around the rink, you always hated those!” Coach Kim smiles and playfully punches his chest.

There is something the Coaches aren’t telling him. Like they’re presenting him with all the benefits before hitting him with a bombshell. You know it and for sure your mother knows it. She has been eerily quiet throughout the whole exchange, if there is one thing more unsettling than her shouting, it’s her silence.

��Albion, huh?” She steps forward and tapers her eyes, “Isn’t that the rink where the Parks are located? And aren’t you Lee Jaeho? The coach of that snake ‘Ice Prince’?”

Tension spreads around everyone’s shoulders, the Coaches can’t look at her, and none of you move.

A loud click echoes throughout the rink as someone walks through the door.

“Coach what the fuck?” The voice booms behind you, “Why did I have to drive almost an hour to come here, why couldn’t we just meet at Albi?”

Park Sunghoon.

What’s that saying? Speak of the devil and he shall appear? His mother shuffles in behind him, vocalising her own distaste for being here as if it were the most inconvenient thing in the world. Little do they know…

It’s like the world stops when Sunghoon and Minhee see each other and not in a rom-com way, “What the fuck is HE doing here?” Sunghoon points to Minhee, not taking his eyes off him.

“This is MY rink, Park.”

Sunghoon and Minhee have been competitors since they were 9 years old. Each of them competes against one another in every competition, always striving for first place. It began as healthy competition, and they were even friends at one point, but as they grew older and each mother became increasingly determined to claim their kid was superior to the others, a rivalry developed. If one of them did something, the other had to outdo it tenfold.

When Minhee learned how to do a double axel, Sunghoon learned a triple. When Sunghoon landed his Euler jumps, Minhee was landing an Euler but following it up with a Salchow. When Minhee won the Junior Silver Medal in 2015, Sunghoon won the Junior Gold Medal in 2016.

It was always like this.

Their similarities didn’t help either, both 20, towering at 6”0, and blessed with faces that effortlessly drew admiring glances from girls. Objectively, you’ve only really seen the attraction to Sunghoon given that Minhee is your brother, however, you're not blind to the bevvy of girls who gravitate towards him either. This is precisely why your mother insisted on Minhee maintaining his brand, which stood in stark contrast to Sunghoon's.

He wasn’t rude or stuck up, actually from what you’ve perceived from afar, he is kind and gentle. But unlike your brother's ‘humble’ persona, Sunghoon knows he’s good and will tell anyone about it. Sunghoon’s confidence is easily mistaken for haughtiness. He can come across as arrogant and cocky, just like those sports journalists have been branding him for years like he thinks he’s better than anyone else past and present.

Having been to every competition Minhee has skated in has led you to know a few things about Park Sunghoon. He was arguably the best skater in the division, even over Minhee, he was determined, hard-working, resilient, and fit as fuck.

To say you used to have a crush on him would be the understatement of the century, matter of fact it was so obvious back then that your mum would often reprimand you for staring at him too long. He was your first crush, you were 8 and he was 9, and like some girls that age you planned out a wedding, a future of 2 dogs and you’d both live in a pink palace. At first, it was his looks, no one in your primary school looked that pretty or even shone a torch compared to him. It was like seeing an angel for the first time. But then you started to grow up, and while still appreciating his face, you focused on how beautifully he skated and how majestic he moved. He was so passionate about the sport it made you feel butterflies, you hadn’t seen love like that before. Sunghoon and the rink were fated to be together.

“Sunghoon, calm down.” His coach whispered, “We need to tell you something-”

“I am NOT sharing my rink with that fucking z-list prick, alright?” Minhee didn’t hold back, he got that anger from your mother.

Turning to his coach, Sunghoon raised his eyebrows, “What does he mean sharing?”

Both Coaches exhaled. You can’t imagine how many times they have had to explain this situation, they probably should have just sent out an email. So as Coach Lee takes Sunghoon and his mum to the side, Coach Kim is looking at Minhee apologetically, “I’m sorry, Minhee. I know he’s your biggest competition, and trust me, I don’t exactly love this outcome either,” rubbing a hand down his exhausted face he whispers, “but work with me here. I’ve scheduled you guys at different times, you won’t even need to see him.”

“That’s not the point, Coach, you know how I feel about him.”

If it wasn’t for your mum you seriously ponder whether Minhee would have such a strong hatred for the fellow ice skater, and as you look at Sunghoon you wonder the same thing.

“I know trust me, you and your mother make that perfectly clear every time we cross them at comps, but you just gotta live with it, son.”

The coaches come back together and look at both of their young prodigies, “Minhee you’ll train morning, and Sunghoon you’ll train nights. Because of the merger of rinks, we have an excessive number of skaters, so we are making it a 24-hour arena but ONLY for you two and Wonyoung since Nationals are coming up.” Both coaches nodded their heads as if agreeing with themselves that this was a good choice, “So if you happen to turn up at the same time, you respect each others’ space and behave like grown men. Got it?”

Grumbling, your brother rolls his eyes, and Sunghoon nods. This is going to be a disaster.

Just as you think all bickering would be over, the mothers start chasing after the coaches as they head into the office. You felt bad for the trainers having to deal with this and getting blamed for it all, but most importantly, you feel sorry for them because they have to listen to both your mum and Mrs. Park for at least an hour.

Once the door to their office shut, it was silent, the only noise coming from the large ACs.

Scared to look any of them in the eye you place a hand on Minhee’s arm, “Come on, you need to practice.”

“Emphasis on the ‘need’.” Sunghoon pipes up and you wish he hadn’t. You were a fool to think this parting would be civil.

Minhee pokes his tongue in his cheek and looks at his rival, “You got something to say?” He’s challenging Sunghoon, baiting him to start something, but Sunghoon doesn’t budge, “Better watch my skate doesn’t somehow come flying off and slit you open.” Minhee was all bark and no bite, you knew this, but he seems deadly serious right now.

“Is that a threat?” Sunghoon stands tall against Minhee.

“It’s a fucking promise, Park.”

No one says anything else, they don’t have to, the look in their eyes is scary as they stand toe to toe with one another. “Let’s go, Mini.” You squeak out his nickname. By no means are you a timid person but you don’t want to interject and suddenly find yourself in the firing line.

With a grunt, your brother obeys and storms out and into the changing rooms, leaving you and Sunghoon alone.

His stern eyes flicker to your soft ones, it’s been a while since you’ve been this close to him, close enough to admire him. His black hair is fluffy and unstyled unlike how it is usually when you see him at competitions, the bags under his eyes prove how hard he’s working whether at skating or general life and the freckles that are perfectly placed on his face suddenly look more ethereal than before. Sunghoon is the epitome of beauty.

While you’re staring you fail to notice how he is staring right back at you, taking in all your features like he’s trying to commit them to memory. He hasn’t seen you since Sectionals which didn’t seem like that long ago but to him, it feels like a lifetime. You’ve cut your hair since then and Sunghoon noticed.

Meeting his eyes once again you see how they sparkle, just like they do when he’s on the ice.

“Sorry for my brother, he can be-”

“A dick?”

“A lot,” Your tone is filled with warning. Sunghoon might have been right but that’s still your brother, “He can be a lot but you already know that.”

Walking up to you, he tilts his head and smiles softly, “Don’t start apologising for him now, Sweets.” He leans so his face meets yours, “Or else you’ll be apologising your whole life.”

Sunghoon pats your head and makes his way to the coach's office, leaving you mesmerised.

______

Minhee and Sunghoon have successfully kept their distance from each other for the past two weeks, which has been a relief to everyone. If this pattern continues, there is hope that everything will just be a harmonious as before the merge.

Although the rink was now open for their disposal, you were never more grateful. No, it wasn’t for you, the coaches explicitly said it was for the future medalists, but you knew the receptionist for the building and she would let you away with anything if you batted your lashes and gave her a box of Toffees.

Growing up at the rink meant you found solace in the atmosphere and surroundings, so much so that you went there to simply study, the arena oddly hugging you in comfort while you tore the hair from your head. Skaters and staff became your friends with how much time you’ve spent in the bleachers. Typically, it would be during the day with what little spare time you had, but with the building being open around the clock it means you can inhabit the premises in the middle of the night, the perfect time to get your head down and work.

That is where you are headed right now just after your shift at the supermarket. It was as painful as ever with customers not understanding that you don’t make the prices, or that no you cannot watch their baby while they run for a jug of milk. It’s baffling how dense some people can be.

The rink is a nice place to relax and get away from it all.

Pushing open the door you see the receptionist, Miss Barbara, filing her nails. She was a friendly woman, the kind type, but when Coach Kim told her she would have to work some nights she wasn’t so sweet and caring, not to him anyway.

Her real name is just Barbara but as the years went on, she adopted this regal persona and insisted everyone call her Miss or Ma’am. Only you and Minhee gave in to her request though.

“Hi, Miss Barbara,” You wave. Reaching into your white tote bag you retrieve her bribes, eh, goodies, and pass them to her.

With much delight, she wiggles her fingers and slips them from the desk into her lap, “Y/N you are my favourite person that walks through those doors!” Her eyes are trained on the sweets rather than you when she speaks which makes you chuckle.

“Glad I can be held in such high regard, Miss Barbara,” You change your accent to a posh one and wave like a Queen in her tiny town car. Lifting her head, Miss Barbara sees your roleplay and laughs, dismissing you into the rink.

As you step into the arena, the chill of the air greets you, accompanied by the soothing sound of skates slicing through the ice. Finding your way to the centre of the second row of bleachers, you settle in, unpacking your bag and gracefully arranging your belongings. Crossing your legs to create space for your laptop and paper, you deftly balance everything, a skill you've honed to perfection.

Typing in your password you hear the skates coming towards you and scraping to a halt but you don’t look up.

“If you’ve come to spy on my routine you aren’t doing a very good job at hiding.” Sunghoon playfully remarks. You hadn’t even noticed it was him who was skating, since it was usually Wonyoung gracing the ice you just expected it to be her. He looks at your mess of a lap and scrunches his full eyebrows, “Like you’re really not making it discrete.”

You look up and see him pointing to your laptop, “Oh, no I’m just studying.” Returning to typing you hear him scoff, making you look at him again.

“You expect me to believe that?” The look on his face is incredulous when you don’t budge, “What? Don’t they have libraries at your Uni?”

Sunghoon’s tone is accusatory and you don’t like it. “Look, I don’t have beef with you okay? That’s the wrong Kang sibling.” There is no reason for him to be giving you attitude right now, you hadn’t done anything wrong, an innocent bystander in all this.

Deep down he knew that too, but he couldn’t be too careful.

Crossing his arms, he leans on top of the barrier and rests his chin, examining you and how much you’re telling the truth, “So, what? You genuinely just sit here and study? Does the cold stimulate your brain or something?”

“No, it’s like white noise at this point, comforting.” Glancing up you see his still dubious expression, “Ugh, look I come here all the time, ask anyone!” Your arms gesturing to the empty rink is not really helping your case.

Having had enough you slam the laptop shut and stand up, “Whatever, I’ll just go somewhere else.”

Sunghoon shoots his arms up to mock surrender, “Woah, Sweets, calm down, I was just making sure. Need to air on the side of caution, yeah?” His voice softens.

Making you uncomfortable wasn’t on his list of things to do, but his mum made it very clear your whole family wasn’t to be trusted, and he always heeded his mother's warnings even if he thought she was being overdramatic. “Listen, stay here as long as you want but if I see your brother doing a double toe loop into a triple axel I know who to blame.”

With a smirk, you sit back down, “See now you’ve just told me your big secret,” a laugh leaves your lips, “Changed your mind on trusting a Kang so soon huh?”

He’s flabbergasted.

Did he really just tell you part of his routine like it was nothing, in an instant after he just told himself not to be so trusting of you? You’re more dangerous than he first thought, and you aren’t even trying.

After seeing the realisation come over his face you laugh loudly, “Sunghoon, don’t worry. My brother can handle you on his own, he doesn’t need to cheat to beat you.”

“Say that to my 8 first places over him.” It goes silent. It’s not like you could argue with him, Sunghoon did beat Minhee in a lot of skates.

Trying to lighten the mood he points to you, “No pictures.” He jokes and skates away adroitly.

You don’t see the smile creeping onto his face, or the way tries to shake you out of his head. That conversation between you made him want it to be the start of many more, much more.

________

Emerging from your room, you're taken aback to find your mom standing right at your door, narrowly avoiding a collision. Both of you gasp and instinctively clutch your chests. "Jesus, Y/N, you scared me," she exclaims. Ignoring the fact that she's lingering around your room, you offer an apology, which she quickly dismisses. "A letter came for you," she informs you, handing over the manila envelope before walking away. At least she isn't one of those moms who loiter and wait for you to open it; she doesn't fuss over things like that. Or perhaps, she doesn't fuss over you.

Abandoning your plan to head to the kitchen for a cup of tea, you return to your bed and sprawl across it, letting your legs dangle off the edge. With a swift motion, you tear open the envelope and unfold the letter, eagerly scanning its contents.

Dear Y/N Kang,

At Yonsei University, our students consistently impress us with their dedication and commitment to excellence. Each year, we have the privilege of acknowledging one outstanding student whose remarkable progress merits special recognition. This year, we are delighted to announce that you have been selected as the top student of Yonsei University.

In light of your exceptional achievements, we would be honoured to celebrate your success by presenting you with an award. A special ceremony, bringing together top students from across the city, will be held on the 23rd of September at 7 pm in the historic Cathedral adjacent to our university campus. You are welcome to bring a plus one to share in this momentous occasion.

Congratulations once again on this well-deserved honour.

You skim-read the rest, and a triumphant smile creeps onto your face. There's no conceivable way you're at the top of the University this year - perhaps the top of your year, but the entire university? It feels like a surreal, sick joke. Investigating the envelope, you spot the official stamp of Yonsei. It's real.

Bounding down the stairs, you find your mum and brother already seated at the dining table, ready for dinner, "Mum, Mini, look!" You flap the paper in their faces, excitement bubbling within you. Your mum tuts and carefully opens the letter, reading it with precision. You're searching for any sign of a reaction, but nothing surfaces. She simply places it down and checks her phone.

You sit down gingerly, awaiting her acknowledgement, hoping for some form of appreciation, "Hmm, thought so." Clicking the lock on her phone, she sets it aside, "Sorry, Y/N, Minhee has a schedule that day."

"But aren't you happy for me?" You ask, your excitement dampening. It's not just about the ceremony; it's about the achievement itself. She should be proud of you, "I'm at the top of my university."

"Yes, you are, darling," your mum responds, her tone lacking enthusiasm. Normally, it wouldn't bother you, but this is a big deal, huge even, and she couldn't spare you the time of day to at least pretend to be happy for you.

Your heart sinks, and the elation you felt a moment ago dissipates. She really did not care, and the void of her indifference casts a shadow over your significant accomplishment.

Minhee places a comforting hand on your shoulder, sensing your disappointment. "Top of the class, huh? Finally, you get one of your awards in my trophy room." His attempt at humour falls flat in the weight of the moment. Minhee notices your lack of response, withdrawing his hand and sinking into silence, his gaze fixed downward.

“We just can’t go, your brother has an advertisement to film that day, we’ve been planning it for months. You understand.”

You had no choice but to understand.

“Yes, Mum.” The acceptance cuts deep. You've never blamed Minhee for the uneven distribution of favouritism; it wasn't his fault, yet, the sting of yearning for a moment in the spotlight, just once, remains. The chair you rise from screeches against the floor. "I need to go tell my friends about it."

There isn’t a protest from her, so you slip out quietly. Minhee extends a hand toward you, a silent gesture of support, but you don’t bother acknowledging it. The door closes behind you, leaving a trail of unresolved emotions lingering in the air.

In truth, you didn’t want to tell your friends right now, when you tell them you want it to be a happy occasion, not tarnished by your mum's attitude.

How could she be so nonchalant about the fact that you achieved such an award? You weren’t looking for bells and whistles but a simple ‘Well done, Y/N.’ would have sufficed. Was it too much to ask for? You did all this for her, after all.

A deja vu of last week, you push the heavy doors to the Belmore Centre, greeting Miss Barbara before heading to the rink.

The familiar scent of ice and warm rubber infiltrates your nose, offering solace and temporarily numbing the thoughts swirling in your mind. The rink, with its unique aura, never fails to bring you a sense of contentment.

As you take your usual seat, you can't help but notice an unusual absence of the rhythmic sound of skates cutting through the ice. It's just past 8 pm, yet the rink is eerily silent. For a change, it's pure bliss, the absence of the usual hustle and bustle providing an unexpected sanctuary.

Sitting with your head in your hands, you succumb to overthinking. If only you could have skated and achieved something that your mum could be proud of. What would it take?

A tear slips down your cheek, and you're oblivious to the approaching presence.

Sunghoon’s smile is subtle as he takes in your dishevelled appearance. You’re not in your usual jacket, in fact, you look like you've hastily run out of the house as if you were just popping into the shop for milk.

With your hands buried in your head, he hears a sniffle, realizing that you're crying, “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Sunghoon drops his bag and skates as he rushes over to you, concern all over his face.

Shaking your head you just cry harder as your brain screams at you. It is so loud you can’t hear anything else, certainly not the boy sitting next to you.

He rubs your back to calm you down but to no avail. Instead, you cry harder and he doesn’t know what to do. Sunghoon isn’t exactly an expert when it comes to crying girls, “Sweets, stop crying.” Great, Sunghoon, just great, he curses himself, “Umm, no wait, shit, breathe! I’ve heard that works before.” He quickly made the realisation he would never make it as a therapist.

Sunghoon is always so confident and self-assured but right now with you he has no idea how to act.

What he doesn’t realize is that his awkward attempt to console you has genuinely worked. Sunghoon fumbling over his words gives you something to focus on, and hearing him mutter to himself about how awful he is at this makes you laugh. It’s a small laugh but one that breaks through the heaviness of the moment.

Hearing your laughter, Sunghoon whips his head to face you, his hand continuing to rub soothing circles on your back. “What happened, Y/N?” His voice carries a gentle concern, inviting you to share, but you just shake your head, not ready to delve into the details. “Nah, come on. Whatever it is has really upset you. It’s better to talk about it.”

His voice resonates with a soothing calmness, making you feel like you could confide in him about anything.

“I just feel like I'm not good enough and that anything I do will never meet her standards,” you shrug, expressing the weight of self-doubt that has been dragging you down.

“Ah, it’s your mum, right?” His lips purse as he gazes ahead to the rink. The elude to ‘her’ being his only anchor of reasoning.

Your silence serves as confirmation. Sunghoon, all too familiar with the feeling of not being enough, understands your pain. But in this moment, it's not about him. He can only offer superficial advice, “If you live your life based on other's expectations, you’ll never be truly happy.”

“Says the competitive figure skater,” you lightly laugh, a hint of sadness slowly dissipating from your face.

Sunghoon pauses the reassuring circles between your shoulders and sighs, “You got me there.” You were right; who was he to tell you to stop living for other people when that’s all he has ever done since he was 6?

Seeing how his shoulders slump, you worry you might have hit a nerve. “Hey, I didn’t me—”

“Do you want to do something reckless?” The sudden switch from sadness to confidence confuses you, and you gaze at him as if he has two heads. It's remarkable how quickly he pulled himself out of his own thoughts, and you can't help but feel a twinge of envy.

When you don’t respond, he pushes the idea further, “Come on, Sweets. Didn’t have you as the type to say no to a little fun.”

“There's a big difference between reckless and fun, so which is it?” you ask.

“Come and find out.” He smirks, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Suddenly, Sunghoon springs to his feet and yanks you out of your seat, propelling you into whatever scheme he has up his sleeve. As his hand interlocks with yours, a peculiar flutter dances in your stomach.

“Where are we going?” You glance around as he drags you past the rink and into the back rooms. "What’s so fun about plain grey walls and 'Employee of the Month' posters?”

Sunghoon simply rolls his eyes in response to your question.

The next thing you know, you're in a warehouse-like room, surrounded by old skating equipment, acrylite shields you've seen hockey players collide with, and an army of mannequins.

What somehow escapes your notice is the giant red Zamboni that Sunghoon is confidently strolling towards.

Seeing you mesmerized by the mannequins, Sunghoon waits for you to turn around, but you're too engrossed in the plastic figures to notice him. “Looking for your next boyfriend in there?” he teases, his voice slicing through the silence of the room.

Jumping at the unexpected remark, you hastily remove your hand from one of the figures' chests and whip around. Sunghoon leans against the Zamboni, a tilted smirk gracing his face, hands tucked casually in his trouser pockets. Embarrassed, you mumble a quick 'shut up' and shuffle over to him. To be honest, those dummies probably would have offered a more exciting conversation than most men.

Your eyes finally land on the Zamboni. It gleams, proudly bearing the bold inscription 'Zamboni Campbell' on the side. A few years ago, Coach Kim, in a moment of whimsy, had asked people to name the ‘new love in his life’ through a Facebook post. Some 7-year-old had chosen 'Zamboni Campbell.' It might not have been the most clever name, but considering his age, you let it slide.

“Please stop leaning on Zamboni Campbell; she’s a national treasure,” you interject, half-joking. If anything were to happen to her, you imagine Coach Kim might have an aneurysm.

The figure skater scoffs and pushes himself off the machine, “She’s no Zamby Malik.” He jokes, “My baby boy is probably being abused right now.” The comment raises an eyebrow; what is it with some people and their weird fascination for anything with a motor? Your expression remains neutral as Sunghoon looks at you. “Zamby Malik? Albion’s Zamboni? Named after Zayn Malik?” he questions.

“Yeah, got that reference, thanks.” Stepping forward, your eyes meet his. “I have been a Niall worshipper for many, many years,” you say proudly. You’ve been a dedicated fan of Niall and all the One Direction boys forever.

“Eh, more of a Louis girl myself,” Sunghoon shrugs and turns to face the ice resurfacer. “So, how badly have you ever wanted to ride her?” His hands rub together in a way that eerily resembles a villain plotting an evil scheme.

Nope. Absolutely not. You're not getting on that thing. For one, Coach Kim would undoubtedly kill you both if he found out. He loves the Zamboni more than his own children. And two, you have no idea how to operate it. Disaster is inevitable. “I am not getting on that thing!”

Sunghoon gives you a look that says ‘Of course, you are getting on that thing.’ but he can give you all the looks he wants, you are not doing it.

“Sweets, you need to have a go. It’ll help whatever is going on in that pretty little head of yours.” Sunghoon's hand playfully ruffles your hair before he strides towards the steps of the Zamboni.

Fixing your hair consciously, you find yourself following him. “How will it help exactly? When I die from crashing it or at the hands of Coach Kim, at least I'll be free of my thoughts?”

Sunghoon spins around, and you walk right into his chest. “I was thinking more along the lines of a clear rink, clear mind, but your reasoning works too, I suppose.” His hands grip your shoulders and push you at arm's length. “So?”

As you weigh up your options, for him, there's only one option – getting you behind the wheel of Zamboni Campbell.

“I don’t know how to drive it though, Sunghoon.” That would surely deter him from this ridiculous idea. But it doesn't.

“Duh,” His eyes rolled once again, “I’ll teach you obviously.”

It’s at that moment you understand that regardless of how long you’ve known him, you don’t actually know him. In fact, you haven’t even had a conversation this long before.

“Since when did you know how to ride a Zamboni?” You inquire and Sunghoon removes his hands from your shoulders, running his fingers through his hair. God, he is so handsome.

“You learn a thing or two being on the ice so long.”

The truth is, he was constantly pestering the maintenance guy at Albion to clean the ice before his practice. He got so fed up hearing Sunghoon complain he told him to do it himself. So he learned, and ever since, he’s been whizzing on a Zamboni.

You are running out of excuses, and part of you is agreeing with him that this will be good for you. “Fine.”

“That’s a girl!” Sunghoon huffs, and you move to walk up the steps, but he stops you, holding up two fingers. “Two things first.”

Removing his long liquorice-colored coat, he gently places it on your shoulders. The warmth lingering from his body heat in the linings of the jacket makes you realize how cold you were. “It gets cold up there,” he says, straightening out the collar.

You push your arms through the holes and wrap yourself up in it. Sunghoon has broad shoulders, so the jacket makes you look ten times smaller than you are, creating a cosy cocoon.

If he knew it was okay to say, he'd probably tell you how cute you look. For now, he keeps that thought to himself.

Murmuring a polite ‘thank you,’ you're grateful he doesn’t ask why you don't have your jacket. Sunghoon hasn’t pushed you to talk about it at all, and that's something you appreciate.

Sunghoon climbs up and gets situated behind the wheel.

“Wait, you said there were two things?” The jacket is one, and what else?

“Ah, there’s only one seat up here so,” he pats his lap, “You’re going to have to sit on my knee.”

He has to be joking, yet his face looks serious, a tinge of red sneaking onto his neck and ears. He’s blushing. The playful challenge in his eyes mixes with genuine warmth. It's clear he wants to make you smile.

Cute.

“I can’t teach you from down there, now come on up.” He continues.

He won’t give up, apparently, so with a huff, you start scaling the steps, standing at the top and realise how high this thing is. Sunghoon puts his hand out for you to take as he guides you to sit down. “This is super high,” you state patently.

Sunghoon laughs and shakes his head, “You’re just small, Sweets.” His hands go to your waist to stabilise you while you hike one leg over him. “That’s it, not so scary, huh?”

Slowly, you sit down on his lap, getting yourself comfortable. You feel his thighs tense under you. “Oh, am I too heavy?”

Quickly, he shakes his head, “No, not at all, I’ve got legs of steel.” He slaps the side of his thigh and relaxes them a little. Sunghoon won’t say it, but the way you wriggled to get comfy was putting pressure straight on his cock, making him tense up. It would be rude to pop a boner right now no matter how good you feel, given the circumstances.

“So what do I do?”

“Hmm?” He was too busy lost in his thoughts he forgot what he was doing. “Oh, right,” he turns on the machine and guides you through the steps. “So there are six levers, each does their own thing—conditioner, elevation, brush, tyre wash, wash water,” he continues going through the controls.

While he’s explaining, you observe how fast his lips are moving. Is he always this talkative, or is it just with you? A part of you hopes for the latter. “And we are good to go.” He finishes and smiles. You probably should have paid attention because now he’s looking at you expectantly. “You didn’t listen to a word I just said, did you?”

“Something about water being washed?” you bring your shoulders up sheepishly and smile, showing all your teeth.

The look on his face feigns annoyance, “How about I drive and you sit there and look pretty, yeah?”

Pretty. That’s the second time he's inadvertently called you pretty.

Sunghoon reaches his arm around you, starting the machine up and driving it onto the rink, his other hand is holding you securely in his lap. The ice resurfacer is in full swing as it sweeps the edges of the rink. You haven’t seen the rink from this angle before and it brings forth a new appreciation.

“Gonna need you to pump for me.”

It takes you a minute to process his words before craning your neck around to look at him, “Excuse me?” You have no idea in what context that sentence couldn’t be laced with innuendo.

He seems unphased, or maybe just unaware of his words double entendre, and points to the right of the machine, “This Zam has a manual wash water lever, you need to pump it for me, Sweets, I can’t reach it with you on my lap.”

Can he please stop saying pump for all that is holy?

You screw your head back on and see the black lever he is talking about, “This one?”

His one hand on your hip squeezes slightly when you reach over, “Yeah just lift it up and down, it might be heavy for you so be careful.”

Sunghoon watches you pump the water washer a few times, you use both hands to grasp the lever so he tightens his hold on your waist to ensure your safety. After he has focused on the task at hand he notices the way your hands are gripped around the lever, your fingers barely able to wrap around it. He can’t stop the next thoughts that come into his head. What he wouldn’t give to have you stroking his cock with those pretty hands.

The next thing he notices is how you’re softly grunting as you put the work in and your arms losing pace due to repetition and tiredness. The scene in front of him isn’t calming his thoughts down any because now he’s thinking if these noises are similar to ones you would make while bouncing on his dick. He feels like a pervert because here you are upset and he’s got crude thoughts of you infiltrating his mind.

“That’s enough for now, Sweets.” His voice is strained, he could have watched you do that for hours but for the sake of the ice and his dignity, he needs you to stop.

Pulling away and shuffling back to comfort on his lap you smile, “That was weirdly fun. It got some frustration out of me.”

It’s ironic because frustration has seeped into Sunghoon, horny frustration, and you are so blissfully unaware.

“Wow, look how sparkly it is!” You exclaim as your eyes are glued to the ice behind you. Maybe only once have you seen the rink so clean, but even then it wasn’t like this, it’s practically glistening. Zamboni Campbell needs to pat herself on the back.

The boy steering her also needs to praise himself not just for the excellent resurfacing job, but also for helping you. It’s not until now you see that his plan worked, he got you out of your head and stopped the crippling thoughts that were bound to consume you if you didn’t have this distraction.

Both of you lap the rink 4 times before Sunghoon looks at his handy work and smiles, “She drives like a dream.” He steers back into the warehouse, trying to park the Zamboni close enough to where they found it.

“Better than Zamby Malik?” You tease.

“Never, but she’s not far off.” Sunghoon doesn’t let go of the hold he has on your waist despite the ice resurfacer being stagnant. Instead, he’s slightly massaging your sides, an action you can barely feel because of his coat engulfing your body, but you feel it enough.

Turning around so your legs are draped fully over his thighs, you're about to get off him, but you don't. You should stand up, climb down the steps, and leave it as a nice memory, but this future memory feels too short like there should be something more to it.

Sunghoon feels it too, that’s why he’s staring at you so intensely. The once shallow smile he had on his face now dropped off; his eyes are looking deep into yours, and his hands move up your waist slightly, yet he doesn’t make a move.

This has to be your decision. Something you want.

If there was ever an inappropriate time to think about your brother, it’s when you’re two seconds away from kissing a guy. Minhee’s face flashes in your mind, and you realize what you’re about to do - you’re about to kiss Minhee’s biggest rival, his arch-nemesis, how could you even face your brother if you gave in to this?

Sunghoon watches you while your brain flips out; you don’t look like you’re 100% certain of the idea of his lips on yours. “Sweets?” he squeezes your waist and sighs, “We should get going.”

Oh.

All you’re thinking about is why he didn’t kiss you, and why it hurt a little that he didn’t. It looked like he wanted to; maybe you took too long, or he stared long enough to realize you weren’t actually pretty. You guys don't even know each other well, but you feel yourself being pulled towards him. Wasn’t it the same for him? Your brain went from overthinking one thing to another.

Nodding your head, you stand up carefully and make your way down. You can’t even look at him out of shame and guilt for even entertaining the idea of kissing him. Your mum would be so disappointed if she knew.

Sunghoon follows you down but unlike you he is keeping his eyes fixed on your face, focusing on every change in your manner both positive and negative. He wanted to kiss you but you looked like you were about to pass out from the thought of it. Sunghoon wanted you to be certain, “I’ll drive you home.”

“No, no it’s fine, I’m not that far from here.” Being in a car with him after this wouldn’t be the best outcome, your mind is still on his lips.

“Please, Y/N, it’s late. I just want to make sure you’re safe. Anything could happen.” Sunghoon doesn’t want you to walk home, yes because of safety concerns, but also because he wants to spend even a fraction of a minute more time with you. You seem to be one of the few people in this world he can relax around.

He should have just kissed you.

The look on his face is serious but his eyes are soft, not asking but begging you to just say yes.

“Sure.” The atmosphere is heavy, filled with longing and tension. You’re both thinking different things.

You’re analysing every specific detail from tonight to see if you have done something wrong, anything that would have stopped him from kissing you.

And Sunghoon’s brain is filled with various thoughts of you from tonight. The lever, the way you felt so right sitting in his lap, and more importantly how amazing it felt to be the one that made you smile. The way you smiled and giggled on the Zamboni is something he is going to commit to memory.

As of today, he will start keeping part of his brain solely for you to occupy.

The walk to Sunghoon's car is silent, free of the laughter and conversation that previously filled your space. Both of you appear to be over-analysing each other's previous acts, which makes the situation more awkward than it needs to be.

Sunghoon's car is impressive: a sleek monochrome Peugeot New 2008 with a black interior. The scent of his fresh cologne combines with the ocean-scented tree-shaped air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror.

“This is a nice car.” You note, buckling up your seatbelt.

“She’s a beaut, isn’t she? Got her as part of a brand deal with Peugeot Sport.” His hands caress the smooth wheel and his lips upturn into a proud smile. Brand deals and advertisements are not what you want to hear about right now, especially when it’s the one thing your mum cared about instead of your award. Your sour mood doesn’t go unnoticed, “Let’s get you home, yeah?”

That was the one place you didn’t really want to be right now but you nod, shoulders slumped a little at the thought of facing your mum again.

“Or,” Sunghoon starts, “We could get some food? The University Cafe is always open late.”

It was like he could read your mind, “Yeah, I could eat.”

With that, Sunghoon starts the car and drives to the cafe. The way your face turned a little paler when he said he would take you home alarmed him. He doesn’t think you’re in danger there, Minhee might be a dick but he was protective over you, he wouldn’t let anything happen, and Sunghoon knew that. Whatever it is, you didn’t want to go home, and Sunghoon is more than willing to keep you to himself for a couple more hours.

The journey to the cafe, situated more on his side of town, unfolds in silence, only disrupted by the gentle strains of Hozier's "Like Real People Do" emanating from the radio. A wry smile tugs at Sunghoon's lips, finding the song's relevance a touch on the nose for the current situation.

Upon arriving at the cafe, you're taken aback by its shabby appearance - chipped walls, adjacent graffiti, not to mention it’s deserted. Sunghoon, attuned to your hesitance, reassures you, “It’s a lot nicer than it looks, promise. I’ve been coming here forever.” Stepping out of the car, he leaves you with the choice of venturing into the weathered establishment or remaining in the safety of the car. Despite your reservations, a rumble from your stomach nudges you to join him inside.

The interior mirrors the exterior's wear and tear, yet a certain comfort envelops the air as Sunghoon guides you with a reassuring hand on the small of your back. “Sit anywhere you like, Sweets.”

Opting for a seat by the back window, you settle into the firm, brown booth without ridding yourself of Sunghoon's coat, a silent acknowledgement that your stay may be short-lived. You aren’t a snob but you have a cafe like this in your side of town and it isn’t somewhere you choose to occupy.

Noticing your scrutiny of the surroundings, Sunghoon, with a laugh, takes a seat across from you, studying your expression, "You don’t like it, huh?"

Huffing, you cast a critical eye around the place, "Not really, no."

You were brutally honest, he’ll give you that, “Wait until you try their food and then judge okay?” He chuckles and hands you the menu on the table.

A waitress waltzes over with a pen and paper. She’s too beautiful for a place like this, her rosy cheeks and long flowing brown hair make you jealous, “Sunghoon! My favourite ice slasher, how is it going?”

While they engage in small talk you look at the menu looking for something safe to eat. Maybe you should just wait for Sunghoon to order and get the same thing.

“Y/N, you know what you want?” He turns to you.

“Oh, so you’re the Y/N?” the waitress grins.

What does that mean? How does she know your name? When you glance at Sunghoon, you notice his intense stare fixed on the girl. This is strange. The waitress seems to pick up on Sunghoon's unspoken communication, smirking as she says, "I mean, you're Kang Minhee's sister, right?" She then slowly turns her attention to you.

Ah, that's how she knew. He must have spoken ill of Minhee and you enough times for her to recognize you. Fueled by this assumption, you shift into defence mode. "Yeah, I am," you reply sharply, your expression hardening as you lean back, raising your eyebrows and waiting for her response, half-expecting her to be rude to you.

Strangely, the waitress's expression brightens. "It's nice to meet you, Y/N. Can I get you anything?" Her voice carries genuine warmth.

Now you feel a bit guilty. She seems genuinely nice.

"Uh," you glance at the menu again, uncertain of what to order. "What's good?"

Sunghoon intervenes with a smile. "She'll take my usual," he tells the waitress as she departs. Ordinarily, you dislike when men presume to order for you, but in this instance, you're grateful for the assistance. "It's just a plain cheese and ham panini with tomato, pesto, and hot sauce. It sounds simple, but it's delicious."

You expected Sunghoon to be a burger and fries kind of guy, but with his physique and strict regimen, you should have known his tastes would lean towards the healthier side of things.

“Did you order a drink with this ‘usual’ or am I supposed to just swallow it dry?”

“Comes with diet coke and a lime.” He says timidly, now for the first time he is self-conscious about his food choice. Sunghoon would like nothing more than to chomp into a pizza and a full-fat Pepsi but with National’s coming up at the end of the year, he needs to stick somewhat to his meal plan. In hindsight, he should have ordered you something you might have liked. What did you like? He didn’t even know that simple fact, “Do you want something else? I can change it.”

“No it’s okay, I’ll trust your judgment,” You relax into the booth, “Shoot me if i’m being too straight forward but don’t you have enough money to go like, I don’t know, somewhere nicer than this?”

Raising his hands in a gun motion he pretends to shoot you and you fake a wound in your shoulder. It’s nice to be playful like this, Sunghoon hasn’t had this for a long time, “You know how to ask a question, Sweets.”

He then shrugs and looks around the cafe, not unlike how you were doing earlier but his eyes aren’t filled with distaste; they’re shining in fondness.

“It’s where my dad would take me after practices. Mum would never let me come here once I started aiming for professional level, too much grease and too many carbs.” He recalls a time his mum had him on a diet at 11 because he wasn’t flying high enough and a frown appeared on his face, “My dad though, he wanted me to be at least somewhat a normal kid so every Wednesday when mum worked late we would come here. Eat whatever we want and then pop a breath mint in the car.”

Sunghoon’s features are mixed with hurt and fondness, “Sorry, about your dad.” You offer your condolences.

When Sunghoon was 15 his dad died of a heart attack right before the Junior Championships and it broke him to the point he didn’t want to skate anymore, it wasn’t fun because his dad was always the one to cheer him on. His parents had their roles, his mum was strict and direct, getting him to train hard and achieve his best. And his dad was the reliever, encouraging him to have fun and let loose, be a kid. With one half of the balance scales gone, it was difficult for Sunghoon to maintain any adolescent normality. Perhaps that’s why he’s so fond to have you around.

In the silence you speak up, “You know your dad used to sneak me a packet of Haribos nearly every competition.” The boy's head whips to look at you and tilts, a knowing look on his face, “Yeah, and every time he would say ‘With everything so sour, we deserve something sweet’.” You smile at the thought.

“I-, he was kind like that.” He wants to say more, but he stops himself.

His dad was the nicest man in the whole world. When you found out the news that he passed away, you cried a little. Your mum being your mum she didn’t understand it, claimed you didn’t know him enough to mourn. Regardless of how well you knew him, people who were so kind and loving don’t deserve to be taken from this world so quickly.

You see the look on Sunghoon’s face lighten up a little, the shadow over his eyes washing away and when he looked at you, the sparkle came back, “So, you can’t hate this place or else I can pull the dead dad took me here card.”

“Fine. I love it.” The words feign mocking when in actuality they are full of understanding.

The waitress from earlier brings over the drinks in a frosted glass with a lime wedge on the rim, “There you go! Added extra ice for my Ice Prince.”

My. She could have said ‘The’.

It stirred up something within your chest. Jealousy? Okay but why are you getting jealous over this? You don’t know because you aren’t exactly his and you have never been the threatened type, so you don’t know what’s going on with you.

“Food will be right out!” She hops away and she is back in a flash with the Paninis.

What you don’t expect is Sunghoon to take both of them and add some condiments, opening up the middle to pour a slight bit of salt and some mayonnaise.

“Excuse me, I don't need your hands all over my food.” Crossing your arms you wait for him to stop but he doesn’t. Instead, he shows you his hands, stretching them over the table.

“Look how clean they are, Sweets.” They are clean and oh-so pretty. Suddenly you’re jealous of the food that receives his touch, wishing it was you. You need to get a grip, first the waitress, and now a piece of toasted bread are the objects of your envy.

It’s like your crush from when you were little came back tenfold, with every second you spend with him that little innocent pash is turning into full blown infatuation. Now with added hormones, it’s like you’re drawn to him more than ever. It’s scary how quickly you fell back into your feelings, whatever they were.

“Y/N?” He brings you back to reality with his low voice, retreating his hand, “Lost you for a minute there.”

Passing you the food you thank him, “Sorry, happens a lot. I tend to overthink literally everything.” It’s a confession you haven’t let pass your lips. Not ever. “I learned to control it as I got older but if I’m upset I can’t stop it 99% of the time, even if it’s something simple like putting salt on this food.”

Sunghoon sees you physically overthinking what you just said. It’s the exact same face you made when you were inches from kissing him.

He understands the situation earlier a little better now.

“So what’s upsetting you now, Sweets?” He asks, “You said you didn’t feel good enough, what happened?”

Shuddering, you remember your words. You’re embarrassed that you blurted out your feelings so readily, “It’s nothing.” Then you remember, “Why did you think it was my mum?”

“If your mum is anything like mine, and I guarantee she is, then I don’t ‘think’ it was your mum, I know it.” There’s an empathy shining in his eyes, “What did she do?”

“I got some good news, and when I told her about it,” Sighing, you try to aggregate your feelings. Sunghoon’s hand makes contact with your forearm as he sees you struggle. The soothing motion of his thumb calms you instantly, “she just dismissed it. Like my achievement wasn’t up to par with Mini’s.”

“What was the good news?”

“Nothing major I guess. I’m the top student at my University for the year and I’m receiving an award.”

Sunghoon is furious. Your mum had downplayed your achievement and now you don’t think it’s a big deal and he wasn’t having it, “Y/N. You go to Yonsei, right?” Once you nod he continues, “Then that IS major, what are you talking about?”

“It’s not exactly a Championship medal.” Your shoulders slump.

“And?” Squeezing your arm he tries to make you see past your mother and her shitty attitude, “Some people would think your achievement means more than one of his, does that make Minhee’s less than yours?” You mumble a quick ‘of course not’, not grasping what he’s saying, “Then why do you think that way about your award? Sweets, it’s fucking amazing you should be proud of yourself.”

You are, it’s your mum who isn’t and that’s what you can’t get over.

Instead of answering back you avoid the conversation altogether and start eating the food in front of you.

One bite has you falling in love with the taste, the pesto combination with the cheese and parma ham melts in your mouth and makes your tongue dance. You owe this shabby place an apology.

Triumph etches onto Sunghoon’s face as he sees the same fireworks behind your eyes that he had when he first tried the food. He knew you’d like it.

“Oh, my days.” You stare at him wide-eyed, one hand covering your mouth. Never will you doubt him again.

“Told you.” He smirks and eats some of his own, the familiar aroma and your face make his chest fill with glee and gratification, “I’ve just learned two things about you in this last minute.”

“And what’s that?” You question, taking another bite.

“You love the food here and will never question my taste again,” Your eyes are still on the food but you nod to agree, “And you’re an avoider.”

What is that supposed to mean?

“An avoider?”

Sunghoon leans back and picks up a tissue, cleaning the crumbs from his fingers, “You changed the topic pretty fast when you didn’t want to have a conversation you’re uncomfortable with. You can’t accept what I’m saying is right, your achievement is just as mighty as all of Minhee’s and it IS a big deal.”

Arguing with him about it is pointless. Does it mean you won’t though? No.

“It’s not that I'm not accepting what you’re saying,” it is, he thinks to himself, “I just don’t need to air my drama or feelings to someone I don’t know.”

“Believe it or not, asking questions and having conversations like this is how you get to know people,” Sunghoon pushed the food to the side and leaned forward, “I just want to get to know you.”

You challenge him by matching his posture and leaning on the table, “Whatever happened to, oh I don’t know, what’s your favourite colour?”

“White. See, easy right?” He’s smug. Sunghoon isn’t trying to pressure you to answer the question, he just thinks if you speak about the issue, it’ll alleviate the burden. A problem shared is a problem halved after all. “How about you ask me anything at all, and I’ll answer it because I know that’s how you get to know me.”

“Anything at all?”

“Yeah.”

“Then why didn’t you kiss me earlier?”

Stunned. Shocked. Astounded. Whatever other synonym he could use, that’s exactly how he feels right now. For the first time in his life, he is speechless. How do you keep doing this to him? Never has anyone been so forthright with him.

Seeing his cheeks flush red and eyes dart around as if finding the answer in his brain you know you’ve won, “Not so eager to speak now, huh?”

Exhaling, Sunghoon sits back, “You looked like you were going to pass out,” He begins his answer, “You got in your head about something and it made you second guess.”

“I was thinking about Minhee.”

Sunghoon’s face shrivels, “Sweets, I know we’re compared a lot but I didn’t think he’d be my competition with you too?” Sunghoon’s voice is playful but he is worried about the next words out your lips.

Stretching over the table you slap his chest, “Ew, no that’s disgusting! Don’t even think like that!” You’re appalled at even the inclination, “It’s just that, you’re Park Sunghoon, you said it yourself he’s your competition,” He goes to say something and you stop him, “in SKATING. You’re so disgusting.” Laughter fills your booth, food and drinks forgotten, “If I ever kissed you he would freak the fuck out.”

The boy across from you knows exactly what you’re talking about, more than know, “If Minhee wasn’t a factor, would you have kissed me back?”

“Yes.”

Responding before your brain has a chance to filter the words is also a downside to your overthinking mind. So many thoughts in one brain make it easier for slips like this to happen, but you aren’t too concerned about this one, he probably already knew you would have kissed him back there if you weren’t preoccupied with contemplation.

Just as you think you’ll get to speak about what transpired earlier, the waitress comes over to take your plates away, “All done?”

Sunghoon nods and goes to pull out his wallet to pay but as he pats himself down to find it, he remembers it’s in his coat - the coat you’re still wearing “Uh, Sweets?” He points to his coat trying to tell you it’s in there.

Smirking you search the inner pockets to find a Prada wallet. You could have some fun with this.

“That’s okay, Hoonie, I’ve got it.” You pull out a few £20 notes and hand them to the waitress, “It’s my treat tonight, didn’t I tell you that? Only the best for my hard-working man.” Making kissy faces at him, his face goes red and his lips go in a thin line.

It wasn’t the fact you just paid £80 for a £12 meal with his money, although that will be addressed later on, it was the nickname and calling him your man that has him trying to control himself. The sweet albeit lightheartedly jeering way of your words made his heart tight in the best possible way. If there was a button board on Sunghoon’s chest, filled with all his emotions like annoyance, lust, happiness, solace, and aggravation, you had pushed every one of them tonight.

Laughing you put the wallet back into his coat. He looks so cute when he goes red like that, it almost makes you want to treat him like an actual princess or stuff him in your pocket. Either way, you wanted to look after him in some form or other.

“Are you quite done now?” Sunghoon gains back his composure as he watches you chuckling away to yourself.

Suddenly, nothing was funny anymore when your phone goes off, flashing your brother's name on the screen.

You have to go home and Sunghoon knows it too, “Y/N, I would keep you out all night if I could, but Minhee might send out a missing police report if I do.”

Now that you’ve somewhat spoken the issue out loud, you think you’re being a bit over the top about it all but your body still has the overbearing weight placed on your shoulders. Facing your mum right now was the last thing you wanted but you know you can’t avoid her forever.

“I’ll text him. He thinks I’m at Rina’s place telling her and Allen the news.” Quickly standing up you type a generic reply back, telling him you’ll be home soon.

Sunghoon keeps two steps behind you while you walk out of the cafe, his arm hovering by your side to guide you as you text and walk at the same time, he waves goodbye to the waitress and she wafts the cash in her face, fanning herself with his hard-earned money. All he can do is laugh and show his disbelief at her flaunting through his expression.

“There. Sent.” You put the phone into Sunghoon’s coat pocket. You’re almost at his car when you hear him speak up.

“Hey, Sweets?”

“Hmm?”

Sunghoon grabs your left arm, twirls you around, and presses his lips against yours.

The action knocks the air from your lungs and your eyes widen. Park Sunghoon was kissing you. His palms cup each of your cheeks, his lips moving against yours as he backs you up until your back hits the side of his car. This is what you wanted back at the rink, to have the feeling of his mouth moulding to yours, except it was better than expected, it felt like heaven.

He can't seem to get enough of you as he fervently kisses your mouth, his tongue sliding along your lips, eliciting a soft moan from you that's music to his ears. It was a daring move to kiss you so suddenly, and in an ideal world, he would have asked for permission first. But he knows that might have sparked another bout of overthinking from you, and he couldn't risk losing this second chance to kiss you tonight.

Sliding his hands into your hair, he gently pulls your head back, granting him better access to your open mouth, deepening the kiss. Lost in the sensation of your lips, he doesn't even notice the subtle movement of your fingers dancing along his waist until they settle between his lower back and the top of his ass.

At this moment, nothing could stop you from kissing or touching him.

Except, perhaps, one person.

Your phone vibrates, indicating an incoming call, but you're too entranced by Sunghoon's lips and tongue to notice. Pressing his body against yours, he traps you between him and the car, the sensation of his hips against yours causing you to instinctively grind against him, using your hands to pull him closer.

However, in the intimate closeness, he can feel your phone vibrating against your body. As much as he wants to ignore it, he knows you can't. "Sweets, your phone," he murmurs between kisses, his hands dropping from your hair to reach into your pocket, even as your lips continue to chase after his. "It's Minhee; you better take it."

No way has he cock blocked you twice in one night.

Grumbling, you take the phone from Sunghoon and answer, “Hi Minhee…No, I wasn’t ignoring you, I was putting on my shoes…no no, you don’t need to pi-”

You pause mid-sentence when Sunghoon starts kissing your neck and squeezing your waist. What does he think he's doing? Glancing down, you catch his eyes sneakily looking up at you. Attempting to push him away only results in him biting down, his fangs teasing the verge of breaking skin. In any other situation, you might have found it hot, but with Minhee yapping in your ear, you don't have time to appreciate it.

“Look, I’m on my way home…I’ll walk, it's not that far…seriously, Minhee- Oh,” you moan involuntarily when Sunghoon kisses your sweet spot, and once he's found it, he doesn’t stop licking and nibbling, “Hoonie, stop it!” You remove the phone from your ear and whisper-shout at him.

“I love it when you call me that,” he smirks, his eyes sparkling mischievously.

Hearing Minhee’s voice come through the phone again, you lift it back up to your ear, “What? Oh, I stubbed my toe, look I’ll be home soon alright…Yes, Allen is here…you know he and Rina are together. I’m going to go, see you soon.” Hanging up, you sigh in exasperation.

Giving Sunghoon a few light whacks, you demand, “Why did you do that?” You're almost certain Minhee heard him, or at least now he might think you're hooking up with Allen.

Bringing his face back up to yours, Sunghoon just shrugs and kisses you again with as much fervour as before. His lips are addicting, and you don’t want to stop, but Rina lives 20 minutes from your house if you walk, and this cafe is at least a 30-minute drive. “Sunghoon, I need to go back,” you say between his insistent kisses.

“How long do I have?” He needs to know how long he can indulge in this before having to let you go.

“Not even a second. I’ll already be late even if we leave now.” When his forehead falls on yours you see the pain on his face, like you’re depriving him of a basic human need.

"Don't say that, tell your friend to phone and say you're staying with her tonight." Sunghoon can't stop his lips from capturing yours again. It's as if he's had a taste of you and doesn't want to give it up, especially now. His hand teases the waist of your trousers, tempting to dip in and touch you where you desperately need him.

Personally, you would love nothing more than to call Rina up and get her to lie, she would do it in a heartbeat but Minhee would never believe it, “I can’t. I never stay over when he has practice in the morning. Mum never wants to make a stop off to pick me up.”

“You’re killing me here.” He states breathlessly, his fingertips dancing down to your pussy as he ghosts your neck with his breath. He’s waiting on you to give him the green light but you are far too concerned about getting home.

He suddenly hates your mum a little more than before. If it wasn’t her dismissing your accomplishments, it was her inability to put you on her priority list, “Can’t you just skip his practice? He’ll have more, trust me he needs it.”

“Don’t ruin this.” You warn him from speaking any more about your brother. It does bring you back to reality just who you were kissing, but you can’t focus on that right now, your only concern is getting home.

Sunghoon apologises by kissing you again, this time more gently, like it came naturally to him, “I need to go home. No excuses.”

It isn't what he wants to hear, but he has to accept it. Stepping away from you, his gaze remains fixed on your lips, which are lush and swollen; he can only picture what they would look like if he had more time to toss you in the back seat. His mind immediately returns to you with the lever, and to be honest, he could throw a tantrum right now over the situation at hand. It was unjust that he couldn't just have you, and he wasn't sure if he'd ever get the chance again.

Moving to his side of the car he slides in and you follow suit. He uses the excuse of buckling your seatbelt for you to give you another kiss and it has you internally giggling and kicking your feet.

You do the same to him, grabbing the seatbelt from him and clipping him in, leaning over to press your lips against his soft ones.

“All I need is 5 minutes,” He whispers against your lips and you laugh, swatting his chest.

You can’t say you don’t ponder it, and when you see his hard on poking so slightly against his trousers, you look at the time and really wonder if you could, but you can’t risk Minhee even getting a whiff of this, “Next time.”

Sunghoon's eyes change from desire to hope in real time, "There'll be a next time?" His cool and confident demeanour fades and is replaced with puppy-like grin as he realises you want more than what you had tonight.

“If you get me home in the next 25 minutes there can be.” You pose and with that, Sunghoon drives out of the car park and down the highway going 10 above the limit.

Reaching closer to your house you put a hand on his thigh as you speak, “Better to drop me off here, so Mini doesn’t see you.” You also have to fake that you walked home from Rina’s so if a big fancy car starts pulling up outside your house, he’s going to know something is up.

Sunghoon takes your hand on his thigh and brings it to his lips, maintaining eye contact with the road as he stops at the curb of your neighbour's house 2 doors down. His grip tightens on your hand as he looks at the time, “Got you here in 27 minutes, Sweets.” Proud of himself he adorns a smile that splits his face in half.

Tutting you pout at him, “I guess there can’t be a next time, so sorry Hoonie.” His stunned face was worth holding in your laugh to act like you’re serious, “If only you had gotten here 2 minutes quicker.”

“Come on,” He exasperated, “There were like 10 red lights in a row.” His thumb points back to where you just drove from.

It’s true, it was bad luck, but you liked playing with him like this.

“Sorry, see you at the rink yeah?” You unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to get out your side of the car, but Sunghoon isn’t letting it end here.

He stretches over to shut the door back over making you gasp, startled by the sudden move, “You don’t want to be a thief do you?” You think he’s going to hit out with something cheesy like how you stole his heart of something, but when his hand grips the coat you’re wearing you understand what he means, “Bad enough you gave my money away but now you’re trying to steal a £500 coat?”

Perplexed by both the price and the unexpected accusation, your mouth hangs open. No wonder the coat is so cosy and warm—it costs most of your month's paycheck. Exiting the car, you impishly mutter a 'fine' as you remove the jacket, placing it on the passenger seat before walking away, feeling considerably colder than before.

Just as you reach the vicinity of your house, Sunghoon calls out, "Sweets?" You spin around to see him jogging up behind you, holding your phone. Ah, you put it in his coat pocket after Minhee's call. Taking it from his grip, you thank him, only to be surprised again when he says, "You also forgot this." What else did you even have on your person to forget?

Sunghoon's mouth quickly meets yours for the nth time tonight. A kiss. You forgot to kiss him.

Sighing, you realize you have to put an end to it. Lingering out in the open so close to your home practically guarantees Minhee will see. "Hoonie."

"Shh," he hushes you, continuing the kiss, "I know, but let me have it since there won't be a next time." A fake sad look takes over his face, his hands running up and down your sides.

"Ugh fine, since you gave me my phone I suppose I could spare you some time." Crossing your arms, you act irritated, while his 'sadness' transforms into a self-satisfied smile. That was the dynamic between you both, always giving what you got, and you wanted to explore it more, no matter how difficult it was.

“See you at the rink then, Sweets.” Messing up your hair he skips back to his car like a kid on Christmas. He was the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.

Spending these past few hours with Sunghoon was like nothing you had ever experienced before. He knew how to wash all of your worries and woes away better than some people you’ve known for years. And when he kissed you it sent shooting stars through your body. If only 8-year-old you could see what had just happened, she would burst with excitement.

With a smile on your face, you rapidly run into your house and up the stairs, trying to be quiet but also too lost in the dizziness from Sunghoon’s kisses. As you reach the top of the stairs, Minhee opens his door and gives you a quizzical look. Oh no, he didn’t see, did he?

“Why do you look like you won the lottery?” Phew, he hadn’t.

“Just, excited about getting the award, that’s all.” It wasn’t totally a lie, he would see right through you if you started to babble out any other excuse so you had to stick to something believable. You are happy about the award, there isn’t a doubt about it, but Sunghoon reassuring you throughout the night made you stop and acknowledge how happy you really were to receive it. Your mum was the one that ruined it for you.

Minhee follows you when you walk into your room, “Y/N? You know I would be there if I could right?” Facing him, you see how sorry he looks about the situation, “I tried to phone the company to move the filming but they can’t.” Of course, he would try to move it for you, that was the kind of brother he was.

A surge of guilt overcomes your body. Here he was trying to move his schedule around, a big important schedule might you add, and you were out there kissing the one boy you shouldn’t be. If Sunghoon wasn’t such a threat to Minhee, you think they could go back to being somewhat friends, but that’s never going to happen.

“It’s okay, Mini. I know you can’t just cancel it.” Your voice is reassuring but his features still hold hurt.

“It’s not okay, Y/N. You’re the most important thing to me in this world, I want to be there for your big moments like you’ve been there for mine.” You could cry. Minhee wasn’t the type to show his emotions so being on the receiving end of such words makes you tear up a little, “Hey, Bubs, don’t cry.”

He hasn’t called you Bubs in so long, the childhood nickname growing out as you both got older. There was a bond between you and your brother, other siblings used to say how envious they were.

“I don’t want to speak ill of our mum but she was a bitch tonight. I should have said something.”

Shaking your head, you wipe your tears and look down before speaking, “Mini, it wouldn’t have helped.” Your voice cracks and your throat closes a little, “She’s always like that anyway.”

“It doesn’t make it right.” He says disapprovingly.

Minhee pulls you into a tight hug and you instantly relax. Your brain starts to overthink everything again. The lack of proudness from your mother, the kisses from Sunghoon, and the brotherly affection you’re currently receiving. Could you have it all? Getting to know Sunghoon tonight, you don’t think you can leave it where you did. There was something there between you both, you fit together like skates to ice.

“I am so proud of you, Bubs.” Minhee strokes the back of your head, “and I might not be able to go to your ceremony, but when I beat that prick and come first at Nationals? I’m dedicating that to you. I promise you that.”

That prick…Park Sunghoon.

You couldn’t have it all.

taglist: @heelee-01 @zerasari @beomgyusonlywife @iwaplant @monstanctiny21 @chiiiiiiiiis @minniejenseo @run2gyuz @jngwnlvs @haelahoops @capri-cuntz @nctislifue @jaehoonii @weyukinluv @skzenhalove @enhypenlovre @cherriruto @ariadores @chwesuh-imnida

#enha smut #enhypen smut #enhypen x reader #enha x reader #aj writes #sunghoon smut #park sunghoon smut #enha fluff #sunghoon x reader

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andvys · 1 month

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Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter eight ⭐︎ Say my name and everything just stops

Warnings: 18+, minors don't interact! jealousy, angst, low self-esteem (kinda?), mentions of the upside down. weed and alcohol consumption. I will not spoiler anything here, so read with caution

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: You blindly began to follow your feelings, hanging onto a hope that died just as quickly as it came.

Word count: 10k+

Author's note: @hellfire--cult and I came up with this whole idea and we kept talking about this moment for weeks and now its finally here, I hope you guys are gonna enjoy it as much as we did hehe

Series Masterlist ⭐︎ Previous Chapter ⭐︎ Next Chapter

♡

The spring wind blows through the open windows in your room, touching your skin and slightly lifting the ends of your new dress. The smell of vanilla and the floral scent of your perfume lingers in the air. You’re leaning closer to your mirror as you apply your favorite gloss to your lips.

A tingling, exciting feeling bubbles in your stomach, your heart jumping every few seconds or so at the thought of seeing him today.

Steve’s reactions were everything you were hoping for when you teased him at the diner and in his car, yesterday. His blushing cheeks and the wide, darkened eyes filled you with victory after you had placed a kiss upon his flushed skin. You are still not sure what had caused you the sudden rush of courage, but you’re glad that it hit you because the way he looked at you, the way he reacted, the way his breath hitched in his throat finally gave you the last push to do what you had always wanted to do. Today, you’re finally going to give in to your feelings.

The nervous, insecure part of you is telling you that there is still a big chance that he might reject you, that you will ruin this thing between you both by making the final move.

And usually that weak part of your mind would win, it would fill you with enough humiliating images to pull back, to make you rethink your decision, to keep you hiding in the shadows, the way you always did.

But you’re no longer letting it win.

You will do this, even if you might lose your dignity.

Placing the lip gloss back on your vanity, you reach for your favorite necklace, and put it on. You touch up your hair one last time, fixing your bangs before you take a step back, eying the red and white sundress, the little bows on the straps, the dainty flowers on the material, the shortness of it that exposes enough of your skin to drive him crazy… you hope.

‘Just make your move, babe. Do you really think King Steve would reject you?’

Your smile falls a little when Billy’s voice echoes in your mind.

Every memory of your best friend brings a hurtful pang to your heart.

He was the only one who knew about your feelings for Steve and surprisingly he kept encouraging you to ask him out, to make your move.

Would he be proud of you now?

Or would he still make fun of you for liking someone like Steve?

You step away from the mirror and walk over to the window, closing it before you leave your room and make your way downstairs. Eddie isn’t picking you up for once, even though he called you three times already, asking if he should come pick you up and if you’re truly feeling good enough to drive yourself again – you are. The headaches are gone, the dizziness is gone too. All that is left are the nightmares and the sudden rushes of anxiety but you are okay, you feel okay.

You walk over to the dresser in your hallway, reaching inside the key bowl to retrieve your car keys when something else catches your eye. The one single key, lying in there, you reach for it, furrowing your brows as you trace your finger along the metal, letting it fall in your palm.

You still remember the day when Max had showed up at your house, asking for you to take Billy’s car before Neil would destroy it in a moment of rage.

‘He’d want you to have it anyway.’ She said as she handed you the keys.

You remember how you broke down crying the moment you got into the driver's seat. You missed your best friend and it felt so wrong to sit in the place that once belonged to him.

You got the windshield fixed and anything else that needed to be repaired, before you parked it in your garage, planning to never open the gate again and just leave the car there until Max would ask for it back. And, you did leave it there, for a few weeks at least.

Your car broke down on a hot Friday afternoon and the mechanic at the local shop told you that it would take a few weeks to get it fixed. You walked and used the bus for a few days, and then the rain and the storms crashed upon Hawkins, giving you no choice but to take the blue Camaro.

Max even joked about it, she told you that it was Billy who caused your car to break down and who somehow let it rain and storm over the town so you would finally take his beloved car out for a ride because it’s just too pretty to be hidden and locked away in a dark, cold garage.

You’d sometimes drive around at night, when the streets were empty and no one was around.

When you visited your sister in Indianapolis, you took his car.

But now it’s been a while, the last time you sat behind that steering wheel was right before the apocalypse almost hit the town.

A sigh falls from your lips as you stare at the key.

“Not today,” you murmur as you place it back where it laid before and reach for your keys.

The drive to Eddie’s new place isn’t a long one, he only lives a few streets away from you now, it would only be a ten minute walk but you desperately waited for the moment when you could finally drive again, and you didn’t want to pass up on the opportunity today.

You missed this, sitting behind the steering wheel, instead of the passenger seat, longing to be the one in control. You missed picking the music yourself – not that Eddie’s music taste is a bad one, you just need a mix of everything, not just rock and heavy metal, sometimes you just need a girly pop song – not that you would ever admit it to him.

When you arrive at your destination and you pull up to Eddie’s driveway, you notice that Steve’s car isn’t there yet. Only Jonathan’s car is parked next to Eddie’s Impala.

Steve is never late, yesterday being the first time that he was the last one to arrive, so he is either still waiting for Robin or… running late is his new thing.

“There she is!” Eddie chuckles as opens the front door at the same time as you get out of your car, “and she’s here in one piece!”

A laugh tumbles from your lips as you close the door and lock your car before you make your way over to him, eying the new shirt he’s wearing – which is just another band tee that you have never heard of before. His curly hair up in a bun and a can of beer in his hand.

“I’m a good driver, what are you talking about, Eds?”

He furrows his brows, lips curling into an amused smile, “are you?”

You walk up the steps to his porch, greeting him with an eye roll, “you know what, next time I’ll pick you up.”

He smirks, using his index finger to point at your car.

“What, with your baby Mustang over there?”

You squint your eyes at him, “nope, I’ll take the hidden gem in my garage.”

“Wait what… What hidden gem?”

“You’ll find out,” you wink at him, trying to brush past him when he stops you, placing his hand on your arm, he pulls you back softly.

“Wait.”

You raise your brows at him, “yes?”

He’s got the twinkle in his eyes, the one he always has when he’s happy about something. His lip twitches, pale cheeks slowly changing color, he’s barely able to contain his excitement as he bounces on his feet.

“Guess who scored a date?”

Your eyes widen, lips parting as you remember the pretty waitress from the diner.

Eddie is blushing, lips now curling into a full smile.

“Oh my god, really?” You ask as a grin appears on your face.

“Yeah! I’m gonna take her out tomorrow night, I can’t fucking wait, sweets.” He says with a dreamy look in his eyes. “She was so sweet a-and fuck… she’s gorgeous, don’t know how she said yes to me.”

You frown at him, reaching your hand out to pinch his cheek, “you’re a handsome, sweet boy, Edward, now shush. You’re gonna knock her off her feet. Any girl would be lucky to have you.”

His eyes soften, he rubs the back of his neck before his fingers trace the scar on the side – you know that it’s now an insecurity of his, just like it is one of yours. Scars litter your skin from where a bat had left a gnarly wound on the back of your shoulder, from where Jason had hurt you, from where he had left reminders for you that he was the one who did this to you.

But your scars aren’t nearly half as bad as all the ones on his skin.

“I’ve never been on a date before,” he murmurs, eyes flashing with doubt.

“So? It’s gonna be even more special then,” you shrug.

“I just don’t wanna mess it up.”

“You won’t,” you smile at him, “you’ve got that special charm, one that makes others like you right away, you’re funny and you’re sweet, now stop doubting yourself or I’ll kick your ass and hunt down every asshole who ever made you feel otherwise.”

He chuckles at your words, though his eyes are still soft as he looks at you. He doesn’t doubt you, he knows that you would actually hunt down every name on the list of people who hurt him.

“Got it?”

“Got it.”

“Good,” you say, sternly.

“Good,” he nods.

You stare at each other for a moment before you both burst into giggles. He wraps his arm around your shoulder and he pulls you inside his house, narrowing his eyes as he takes in your dress.

“Who’d you dress up for, sweets?” He asks, “there’s no hot guys here.”

“Well, aren’t you humble?”

“No hot guys besides me, of course,” he corrects himself after clearing his throat, smirking at you.

You only shake your head in response.

You pass by the kitchen and the big shelf that was specifically customized for Wayne’s mug collection. Vinyls are on the walls in the long hallway that leads to the living room where you hear the chatter of your friends and the faint music that sounds through the house.

The smell of weed already lingering in the air.

The sound of Nancy’s giggle, followed by a voice you hadn’t heard in a while makes you furrow your brows.

“Argyle is back?”

Your surprised voice along with the wide eyes you look at him with make him chuckle. He knew you weren’t paying attention when he told you about it days back. You were too distracted by whatever daydream you were stuck in as he let both you and Steve know that Argyle was coming back to spend the summer in Hawkins before going off to college in September – something that Eddie definitely won’t be doing, he won’t be going to college, he won’t be going anywhere, at least not now, not yet, maybe not ever, even though it’s all he ever wanted.

He walked the stupid stage, he snatched his diploma and he finally flipped Higgins the bird, despite the glares, despite the whispers of the people who still blamed him for what had happened weeks back but it doesn’t matter, he tells himself. It doesn’t matter what they say or think because he got people who believed him, people who care about him, people who were willing to fight for him, people who are worth staying for.

“Yeah, he’s here the whole summer.”

“Ooh, means we’re gonna get high a lot, cool,” you giggle.

“Like we don’t do that all that time,” Eddie rolls his eyes, though a smile tugs at his lips as he pushes towards the living room, your feet carrying you closer and closer to your friends.

Despite Steve not being here yet, you already feel the rush of excitement mixed with the nervousness of what you plan on doing, flushing through your veins.

Your eyes first fall on Jonathan and Nancy who are standing by the door that leads out into Eddie’s backyard, his arm wrapped around her shoulder, a smile tugging at her lips when she sees you.

“Hi!” She waves at you, a friendly look on her face.

“Hey,” you smile at her before you look over at her boyfriend, greeting him as well. You then turn your head to your right, your smile widening when your eyes meet Argyle’s already very dazed ones.

He stands up from his seat on the couch, his hair falling in front of his face a little, he opens his arms, revealing his Bob Marley shirt to you.

“Well look at what the cat dragged in,” he jokes as he steps towards you, “come here, chica.”

You chuckle, leaving Eddie’s side to greet Argyle, who instantly pulls you into a tight hug. The smell of weed enveloping you, right away.

“I didn’t know you’d be back so soon!”

“So soon?” He slurs, patting your head when you pull back again, chuckling when you swat his hand away. “You didn’t miss me?” He jokes as he wraps his arm around your shoulder, just the way Eddie did before, he pulls something out of his pocket, handing it to you, “here, got you a little gift from California.”

Your eyes lighten up in amusement, a smile tugging at your lips as you look at the blunt he’s holding, you take it, holding it up as you look up at him with a grin, “why thanks.”

“You gotta share that one with me,” Jonathan grins at you, lazily.

“You’ve had enough already,” Nancy rolls her eyes, though not without a smile on her lips. She pats his chest, “come on, let’s go outside.”

“Yeah, you guys go ahead, I’m gonna grab some more drinks,” Eddie says before he leaves the living room.

You all step out into the backyard, walking over to the little fire pit where the flames are already glowing, surrounded by the comfortable seats. The sound of water flowing from the stream filling the air with a fresh scent, the smell of flowers and the trees giving you a sense of peace.

Eddie’s backyard is comforting and nice, despite being close to the forest, it’s making you feel safe. He wouldn’t have this now if he hadn’t been dragged into a world of darkness – unlike you, he didn’t grow up in wealth, he didn’t have a fancy house, a fancy backyard with a pool. No. Eddie grew up in a lonesome house, one that certainly wasn’t as luxurious as yours or the one he lives in now. The house he grew up in was haunted by painful memories of his mother that he lost at a way too young age and his father who came and went as he pleased, it was the only thing that he had, the only thing he called his own, but that was taken from him too and he had no choice but to move in with his Uncle Wayne, who had done everything to give him a home – and now, Eddie gave him that back, he gave Wayne a home, a nice house with a nice roof over his head, a garden that he always wanted to have. Eddie had tried to keep the upside down a secret, he didn’t want to talk about what was out there, he didn’t want to worry him, he didn’t want to tell him where all the money actually came from but Wayne isn’t stupid and Eddie isn’t exactly the best at keeping secrets from the people he loves and cares about.

You wonder what you would have told your parents if they were still here – would you have told them the truth about what actually happened at the Creel house? Or would you have kept it all a secret? You are certainly much better at keeping secrets hidden. Eddie couldn’t even look Wayne in the eyes when he told him that the bite marks on his skin came from a rabid dog and not from interdimensional bats.

Something cold touches your shoulder, making you flinch in surprise. You tilt your head up, meeting the eyes of your best friend again, “where’s your head at, sweets?” He chuckles, holding the can of diet pepsi out to you.

With furrowed brows, you look down at the drink and reach for it, “thanks,” you murmur, “and uh, nowhere. I’m just fascinated by your backyard.”

His dimples show when a laugh escapes him, he takes a seat beside you, snatching away the blunt from your lap, he places it between his lips and uses his red lighter to light it up. He lets out a content sigh as he leans back, puffing out the smoke into the sky before he takes a look around, “it’s nice isn’t it?”

You nod, pulling the tab on your pepsi, it opens with a pop.

“It’s better than mine.”

He turns his head to look at you, a bewildered look on his face, “you’re crazy, sweets. You got a pool.”

“You got one too!” You chuckle, pointing to the pool that has yet to be used, it’s warm out, not hot yet.

“Yeah, well yours is fucking huge, and you got a hot tub too!”

“You got a hot tub, chica?” Argyle gasps from your right, “oh, you’re rich rich.”

“Correction, my parents were rich.”

“Correction, we’re all rich now,” Jonathan adds, pointing at you with a dazed smile.

“Rich isn’t exactly the term I would use,” Nancy mumbles as she takes a sip of her soda.

“Then what term would you use, Wheeler?” Eddie asks, shaking his head at her, “enlighten us.”

Nancy clears her throat, placing her elbow on the wooden armrest, “we’re taken care of.”

Jonathan snorts, putting his hand on her thigh as he gives her an amused smile, while she already rolls her eyes at whatever is about to leave his mouth – there’s no annoyance behind her eyes though, no tension in her body from where he touched her, unlike with Steve, who she always looked tense and irritated with. Back then you didn’t understand why, there were so many questions in your mind when you watched them and when she left him – how could anyone be irritated with Steve? How could anyone be tense with someone that provides so much love and warmth to the people he so deeply cares about? How could she leave him? How could she break his heart? Who could ever hurt Steve Harrington?

“Just admit it, we’re rich.”

A groan echoes through the backyard, one that doesn’t belong to Eddie, Nancy or anyone else sitting in the circle. You all turn your heads towards the house, finding a very annoyed Robin making her way over to you, a six pack of beers in her hand, sunglasses perched on her nose even though the sun is starting to go down already.

Eddie isn’t surprised at her barging into his home, she does it all the time, to him, to you, to Steve, he doesn’t mind it though.

You straighten your back, holding your drink tighter as you look away from her, waiting for Steve to walk through the door.

The feelings inside of you start to rise again, your heart picking up the pace as your skin starts burning from the excitement.

Robin plops down in the seat next to Eddie, placing the beers on the ground as she slumps back, sighing loudly.

Everyone’s watching her, expecting a rant already but you’re still fixated on the door, waiting for him.

“Buckley, why so angry?”

She pulls her sunglasses up into her hair, turning to face him, “I’m glad you asked,” she murmurs as she reaches for one of the beers, “Dingus ditched me, so I had to walk all the way here!” She throws her arms up dramatically.

You furrow your brows at her words, the burning on your skin beginning to die down just as fast as it came.

Argyle and Jonathan chuckle at her.

“You live 3 blocks away from here…” Nancy mumbles.

“Not the point, Nance,” she argues, glaring at her friend.

“Wait, so Steve isn’t coming?” Jonathan slurs.

Your eyes are wide and hopeful, your hand clutching the can tighter as you dig your feet into the grass beneath you, a weird feeling settling in the pit of your stomach.

“Wetting his dick with Heidi seems more fucking important today,” she grumbles, rolling her eyes as she raises the beer to her lips.

Your heart drops.

The burning in your skin disappears completely as the fire is replaced by ice, the coldness of it freezing your whole body, stopping your heart and taking the false hope away as it kills every feeling that had taken home inside of you just seconds ago.

Your eyes are stuck on her like you’re waiting, waiting for her to laugh and say it was a joke, that he will be here soon, that he isn’t out with some other girl after what happened between you and him yesterday.

“Whoa, what?” Eddie mumbles, holding his hands up, “so… he’s on a date with the girl he didn’t want to keep seeing?”

“Yep.”

Every ounce of excitement is now replaced by the sickness in your stomach, the lump in your throat that makes you struggle to breathe.

What were you thinking?

That the game you played wasn't just a game to him? That it was something more than that? That he wanted you just the way you always wanted him? That he could ever feel something for you?

You don’t know whether you want to laugh at yourself or cry.

How saddening it is to long for someone who was forced to like you.

While you were getting ready, making yourself look pretty for him, thinking that he might like you in this dress – he was getting ready to take out another girl, a girl that he chose to like.

You slowly slump back in your seat when Eddie’s laughter pulls you back into reality. You blink, masking the shocked, pained look on your face with a relaxed one as you take a sip of your drink, hoping that it will get rid of the lump sitting in your throat – it doesn’t. Nothing does.

Your friends move on to another topic, while you stay there, where you will stay for a while now. The pain of the rejection that has never even taken place, slowly sinking in and everything around you begins to suffocate you – the dress you are wearing, the necklace around your neck, even the presence of your friends.

You don’t want to be here any longer, you need to be alone.

But you can’t go, not now, not yet.

It would be too soon, too obvious and they can’t know, no one can know about your feelings for Steve, about how much it hurts to feel that way for him.

So you hide the pain as best as you can, you nod along to your friends' conversation, you speak and you laugh when you have to, even when everything inside of you wants you to cry both out of sadness and anger.

You’re not even angry at him, you couldn’t be angry at him even if you tried to be. He doesn’t know about your feelings – if he did, he wouldn’t have filled you with false hope, you know he wouldn’t.

He wouldn’t string you along, you know he’s not the type of person to do something like that, not even to you. But you really thought that you had something, that there was something between you, that’s why you let your walls crumble, that’s why you started acting upon your feelings, that’s why you were ready to do more than just the subtle touches and the flirtations.

You wait, you wait for the right moment to leave, when everyone is distracted enough, you get up, after whispering an apology, a lie into Eddie’s ear, knowing that he doesn’t believe you, that he will probably call you later or even show up to check on you. But he lets you go.

And as you leave your friends, making your way back into the house, their laughter echoes in your ears, their happy voices and the cheerfulness they’re all feeling, that you were supposed to feel too.

You blink back the tears, not wanting them to fall just yet.

You make your way back to your car, not wasting a second to start it and drive home, your vision blurred and your throat hurting from how much you want to cry.

How foolish it was of you to think that you could ever stand a chance – there was never one to begin with. You will always be the one in the shadows, the one to secretly watch him, the one to secretly want him, the one with the jealousy and the heartache, the one wishing to be anyone but herself because maybe then, he would want you too.

The smell of smoke from the campfire is now lingering on your clothes and in your hair, tears are now falling freely, ruining the makeup that you have spent hours on, the makeup that you can’t wait to wash off now.

You don’t even want to think about him.

You don’t want to ask yourself what he’s doing now.

He touched you so softly, so subtly, and yet it did everything to set your insides on fire, to make you feel special, even if only for a short moment.

Now he is touching someone else, in far more special ways.

A frustrated sigh falls from your lips when you step inside your home, it’s cold and empty, something that you have felt like for a very long time until he started the fire inside of you, only to make it die again… and all without his knowledge.

You walk up the stairs and past your room, going straight into the bathroom, feeling the need to wash away the day, as though it could ease the aching in your chest. You start the shower before you turn to the sink, not even bothering to look at your reflection in the mirror, it would only make you feel more pathetic.

You can feel the hot tears rolling down your cheeks, the quivering in your bottom lip.

You hate this, you hate the sadness that you shouldn’t be feeling in the first place.

You got no reason to be sad, you should have put your feelings aside, knowing that nothing would ever come out of it.

It was all so obvious, it was just teasing, nothing more, nothing less. Nothing ever happened, so why would it happen now? He just found another way of messing with you, so that you two wouldn’t go at each other's throats like before.

You just have to go back. No more teasing like this. No more letting yourself get sucked into delusions. He is just having fun while you crave something more with him and get hopeful.

You aren’t having fun. You wanted more.

You have no choice but to go back to how you were before this… thing started.

Once your makeup is off and your dress is now laying on the bathroom floor, you step inside the shower, letting the warmth envelope you, hoping for a sense of comfort from it.

Standing there for a moment, you let the water rain upon your skin, matching the pace of your tears that you’re willing away.

You will hunt Billy in the afterlife for making you believe that King Steve could ever want you.

You use your scented shampoo, hoping that it will get rid of the smell of smoke in your hair. You love campfire’s but you can’t stand the stench it leaves on your clothes and your hair.

Your hands run over your smooth skin as you wash your body, reminding you of the fact that you even shaved this morning – you couldn’t feel more stupid than you do right now.

Despite the loudness of your own voice cursing at you inwardly and the water hitting the glass, you hear the sound of your doorbell going off – multiple times.

“What the fuck,” you murmur in confusion.

It keeps ringing again and again – once, twice and it stops after a third time before it turns into rapid knocking.

You know it isn’t Eddie, he wouldn’t even have the patience to ring your doorbell and wait for you to open, he’d just barge right in.

You’d choose to ignore it if the person outside wasn’t so goddamn persistent.

You turn off the shower, squeezing the water from your hair before you get out, and wrap a towel around your body. The mirror is fogged, as the rest of the room is, you open the door and step out into the hallway, that now feels colder than before.

The knocking continues, filling you with anger.

Who shows up at night, knocking like a mad man?

Maybe you shouldn’t make your way downstairs now, maybe you shouldn’t open the door to whoever it is on the other side. It could be anyone or anything but you doubt that Vecna came back from the dead to knock on doors now and hunt you of all people – he could have done that weeks back, you went through enough trauma, he could have easily chosen you but even he didn’t want you.

You rip open the door, ready to curse and yell at whoever is terrorizing you at this hour but every word gets caught in your throat and even your breathing halts for a second as your glassy eyes meet the hazel ones that you have been missing all day. Frustration and anger swirling inside them, blazing fire raging behind his eyes. His cheeks are slightly flushed, his chest rising up and down heavily as he stands on your porch, looking better than ever.

“Steve?” His name tumbles out of your mouth before you can stop it as you stare at him in confusion.

He eyes you up and down, taking in the sight of your exposed skin that is still dripping with water before he clenches his jaw, raising his hand to run his fingers through his hair, tugging at it.

Steve Harrington is fucked. He is utterly fucked. You have cursed him in every way possible, he can’t get you out of his mind, he can’t get you out of his system and the thought that you were only playing with him drove him insane. His hunger for you made him desperate, desperate for release.

So in his state of frustration and desperation, he called up Heidi, thinking that a date and sex with a girl he had been with before would help him move on and stop thinking about you but who was he fooling. He couldn’t even kiss her when she leaned in to greet him with her lips, he dodged her. He couldn’t even listen to the things she was telling him after they ordered their drinks. He couldn’t care less about her. All he could think about was you. All he wanted was you. He wanted your lips to kiss him, he wanted your hands to touch him, he wanted your body under his and the more he thought about it, the more he stopped caring about a possible humiliation after he’d finally make a move on you, he needed you, and he needed to try – if you’d reject him, then so be it, at least he would know and not live with the what if’s in his head.

He canceled the date in the middle of it, not caring about how messed up that was. He drove her home and without a second thought, he drove here, he came to you.

And now, you’re standing in front of him, in nothing but a towel, water rolling down your soft skin, big eyes filled with confusion, lips parted, lips that he wants to kiss until he grows breathless.

The sight in front of him does little to make any of this easier for him. You look like you’ve just walked out of one the dreams he had about you.

“You gotta be kidding me,” he murmurs under his breath, surprising you when he invites himself into your home, brushing past you with an intensity that almost knocks you off your feet.

You blink, turning around abruptly, a bewildered look replacing your confused one.

As you take in the sight of him, your sadness begins to dissolve as the anger you started to miss floods through your veins the longer you look at him.

You slam the door shut when the wind causes goosebumps to rise on your skin, you hold the towel tighter against your body as you glare at him, “what the fuck?”

“I have to be the one to say that!” He argues.

“Excuse me?” You scoff, your face now burning with rage. Every second that passes now makes you forget about the tears you just shed over him, irritation sparking inside of you so wildly that you want nothing more than to kick him out of your house for behaving that way towards you for no reason. “Weren’t you on a date with… Heidi?”

Steve clenches his jaw at the mocking voice, at the smirk now tugging on your lips. He chuckles, though not in amusement, he points a finger at you, “see, that’s what I’m fucking talking about!”

Your brows knit together at his outburst, the fire in his eyes growing stronger and bigger.

“Harrington, if you came to yell nonesense at me, just fucking leave!” You roll your eyes and turn away from him, making your way back towards the stairs.

But his scoff stops you.

“Oh, so you keep running away huh!? Didn’t you already get over that!?”

You turn around with nothing but anger boiling inside of you, “running away!? From what!?”

This should have been enough to make him turn around and leave, because clearly nothing changed, clearly this is still just a game to you – but he has hope, and he is desperate enough to throw every bit of his dignity away and risk something.

“Oh, don’t play fucking dumb right now. Acting like that for two weeks and pretending to be stupid is not a good look on you, Blondie.”

You take in a sharp breath, digging your fingers into your towel as you frown at him.

What does he want from you?

Why did he come here?

Was the date so bad, was the sex so awful that he had to come here to torture you?

Without another word, you turn around and you stomp up the stairs, not wanting to see him, not wanting to hear his voice anymore.

Your heart starts pounding in your chest again, and you can’t help but wonder – did he figure you out? Did he figure out your feelings? Is that why he is here? To confront you about them? To reject you?

You feel more and more stupid about what you had wanted to do when you woke up this morning.

Just when your feet carry you up to the second floor, and you rush across the hallway to walk into your room, his footsteps echo behind you, making you more irritated than before. You turn around to face him, but before you can even say anything, Steve is suddenly right in front of you, and his hands reach out to grab your waist, he pushes you against the wall behind you, gently, careful not to hurt you.

The gasp that falls from your lips startles you. His hands that touch the only thing that covers your body leaving your skin on fire. Your heart rate picks up so rapidly that it nearly steals your breath away. You look up into his golden brown orbs, the ones that are nearly black as he steps even closer, invading your space completely, making you breathe in the scent of his cologne, the one that has butterflies swirling in your stomach.

He catches you off guard completely.

You feel so vulnerable, so exposed as you stand there, caged in by his arms, his breath on your skin, his eyes that are filled with so much hunger.

The words die on your tongue, and yet, after you breathe in more of his scent, you open your mouth to speak.

“Shut up, Blondie… Just shut up for a second,” he murmurs, interrupting whatever words you had prepared to lie to him with.

His right hand leaves your waist, inching closer to your stomach as his fingers trace the hem of your towel, drool already forming in his mouth at the sight of you, he is ready to take you, ready to devour you and make you scream his name before he fucks you for only this time.

He notices the way your chest is moving, the way your breathing stutters.

“W-What are you doing, perv?” You stutter as you watch him play with the opening of your towel.

He can’t help but laugh, shaking his head at your insult.

“Perv? Are you going to continue to play fucking dumb?”

“Dumb? You are the dumb one if you think that I’m going to be the one to break into your teasing.”

Steve’s eyes flash with satisfaction.

This is what he wanted – to hear you admit that you were playing that game with him after all and not because you were playing him and stringing him along just to turn him down to gain something from it, whatever it might be. No. You were doing just what he was hoping for, all along.

You want him just as much as he wants you and that’s all he needs to know.

You roll your eyes at him, turning your head as you try to push your way out of his grasp but before you can even step away from him, his hands stop you but not on your waist this time. His large hands cup your cheeks, making you freeze. You stare at him wide eyed when he brings you closer, and you can’t even react before his whole body is suddenly pressed against yours, your heartbeat lurches into your throat.

As though his touch wasn’t shocking enough, his next move almost causes you to collapse, because now it isn’t only his body against yours, his hands on your cheeks or his breath on your skin, now it’s his lips… his lips on yours, his lips moving against yours in desperation as he takes every last of your breath and makes it his own.

You can’t do anything, you can’t move, you can’t breathe, you can’t even blink as you stare at him – how his eyes are closed and his cheeks are flushed, the furrowed brows as he kisses you with a kind of passion no one has ever kissed you with before.

Steve is kissing you.

Steve Harrington is kissing you.

His lips are moving roughly against yours, his hands holding your cheeks so softly, yet with an intensity.

This is all you ever wanted, to feel his touch and his lips on yours but you are too stunned to move, too surprised to kiss him back right now, too distracted wondering if this is real or not.

Along with the shock, you feel the slightest bit of insecurity flooding through you because even though he is kissing you, you can’t help but wonder why. Why isn’t he with Heidi? Why isn’t he kissing her right now? Did she turn him down? Did he come here because he just needed someone? Because he knew that you would fall for this? Or is this just another way for him to tease you?

Those questions prompt you to push him away, forcing him to break the kiss that he was so deeply lost in.

You notice the way he begrudgingly pulls away, the way he seems so drawn to your lips, the way his brows furrow in confusion now, his face is flushed and his pupils dilated as he looks at you with nothing but desperation in his eyes – he isn’t teasing, he wants you, he wants you right now and isn’t that all that matters? That he wants you?

His eyes stare into yours as he is breathing heavily. A flash of rejection takes over his features and by the look in his eyes, you can tell that he is beginning to get lost in his anxious thoughts – thoughts that you quickly shut down by making the move that he just made. You cup his cheeks and you pull him down, closing your eyes as you slam your lips against his for the very first time.

Unlike you, he wastes no second to reciprocate the kiss, a sigh of content leaving him as he presses you back against the wall.

Warmth blooms in your stomach, one that doesn’t stay the same temperature for long because the moment he deepens the kiss, the moment his hands hold you tighter and his knee parts your legs, sliding his thigh in between yours as the kiss gets rougher and rougher, you feel the warmth evolving into a deeper, burning sensation – a fire inside of you that only he can mend.

You can’t believe that this is happening, that something that you had been craving for years is now here.

And Steve, he feels his heart pounding in his chest from the rush, from the adrenaline, from his desperation that grows bigger and stronger when he feels just how much you want him as your lips move roughly with his.

You're hesitant with your touch, but when he grabs your face and pulls you even tighter against his body, his thigh pressing stronger against your core, you can’t help but throw your arms around his neck, digging your fingers into the hair that you’ve always wanted to touch.

You can feel him smirking against your lips when you moan into the kiss, which prompts you to tug at his hair and press your tongue against his bottom lip.

He welcomes it into his mouth so eagerly, his tongue now clashing against yours as his palms slide down to your waist while your hands reach for the front of his shirt, fisting the material tightly as you begin to drag him into your room.

You both know, you both feel where this is going, what this is leading to – what the past few weeks have been leading to.

You want this, you need this, you need him, even if just for tonight.

And you know, you already know that you will be done for, that he will ruin you for anyone else but you couldn’t care less, right now. Especially when he kisses you with so much roughness, everything about this setting all your insides on fire, leaving your skin burning and yet aching for more.

Steve is careful not to step on your bare feet as you lead him backwards into a different room. Excitement bubbles in his stomach and he grows even more breathless than before, he pulls away and breaks the kiss but doesn’t hesitate to latch his lips onto your neck, kissing and biting your flesh, “I fucking hate you, Blondie. I hate that I want you so much.”

Your lashes flutter as you close your eyes, tilting your head to the side as you feel your stomach and your heart fluttering at his touch, at his lips on your skin but especially at his words.

Your knees grow weak and a needy whimper falls from your puffy lips.

All that echoes in your mind now is I want you. I want you. I want you.

You don’t even care about the other things he said to you, you only care about the three little words you have only ever dreamt of before.

You almost fall when you feel the back of your legs hitting your bed, but he keeps you upright, not pushing you down just yet. He keeps nibbling on your neck, kissing, biting, sucking as he breathes heavily against you, growing harder against your stomach.

“Couldn’t even finish the fucking date, couldn’t do anything cause I kept thinking about you, Blondie,” he speaks into your neck, fingers now dangerously close to your bare skin behind the towel.

Your heart nearly explodes at his words and you can’t help but sigh in relief, knowing that nothing happened between him and Heidi. And all because of you.

“You drive me fucking crazy, I want to rip the towel right off–”

“Then do!” You whine, not caring about how eager and desperate you sound, “show me how much you hate me, Stevie.”

He pulls away from your neck after placing another wet kiss to your skin, strands of your hair getting caught in his as he faces you again, with flushed cheeks and almost black eyes he looks at you and takes in the sight of you, the pout on your lips, the flustered look on your face, big eyes that you are begging him with.

He doesn’t even bother to look around the room, just caring about the bed behind you.

He rips the towel off your body, letting it fall to the ground, his hands find your bare waist that he grips tightly as he throws you on the bed, smirking at the gasp that leaves your lips again.

Without hesitating to, he reaches for the hem of his shirt and rips it off.

Just like back then on the boat, when he took his shirt off before he jumped into the water, you stare at his chest, almost drooling at the delicious sight in front of you. His broad shoulders, the scar around his neck that makes him look even hotter, the hairs on his chest, the muscles in his arms that have visibly gotten bigger since high school. You bite your lip as your eyes move down, almost whining when you see the bulge in his tight jeans.

You wish you could run your finger down his chest and his stomach, tracing every little scar that the bats have left behind, but instead, you push yourself up, blushing at the fact that you are completely bare in front of him. You reach for his belt, fingers beginning to fumble with the metal when he stops you with a simple touch and a headshake.

“None of that,” he murmurs as he leans over, his hands digging between your ass and the mattress as he suddenly pulls you to the edge of the bed, dropping to his knees before you, he throws your legs over his shoulder and looks up at you with hooded eyes, “I need to hear you first.”

You nearly combust when you feel his breath on your pussy and his lips on your inner thighs. A whimper falling from your mouth as you try to close your legs out of instinct, blushing even harder than before.

“You’re fucking soaked,” he smirks, holding your thighs open as he teasingly slips a finger through your folds, “all for me, huh?”

You don’t answer but you don’t need to, the loud moan that you let out when he dives right into you with his tongue, gives him everything he needs to know.

He moans in content as he grabs your ass roughly, eyes rolling back when he tastes you for the first time, he almost starts drooling over you, finding pleasure in this.

He teasingly licks a stripe up from your entrance to your clit, circling the tip of his tongue around your already aching nub as he uses his fingers to part your lips.

You scrunch up your face as his tongue pleases you in ways your fingers never could, sighs and whimpers start escaping you as he now presses his thumb against your clit and he starts eating you out, his moans vibrating against you.

Your mouth falls open as your back arches in pleasure, fingers digging into the sheets beneath you as you fall apart completely.

No words are spoken as you both just enjoy this moment of bliss, him getting lost in you, you getting lost in the pleasure he blesses you with.

You focus on everything and also on nothing – his whimpers send shivers through you, his tongue that he fucks you with making you gasp and drool, and despite the heaviness in your eyes, you manage to open them, wanting, needing to see him.

He eats you out slowly, yet desperately, fingers and tongue now working together to unravel you. His eyes are closed and he keeps moaning and whimpering as saliva runs down his chin. He looks so content, so pleased from only this.

Steve curls his fingers inside of you as he keeps his thumb on your clit, rubbing circles on it.

Tears of pleasure prickle in your eyes as needy sounds keep escaping you. You hold the sheets even tighter now, closing your legs around his head, caging him in between them.

Steve finally opens his eyes, they darken even more now when he sees how you are falling apart for him, it only prompts him to fuck you even harder with his tongue and his two fingers.

Your moans and whimpers are enough to drive him crazy, enough to make the erection in his pants feel painful but he wants more, he needs to hear his name falling from your lips and he gets what he wants only seconds later when your body grows tense and your back arches again as a tear rolls down your cheek.

“Steve!” You nearly scream as you come undone, writhing beneath his touch.

You tilt your head to the side, bringing your hand up to your face, you bite your teeth into your knuckles as hot tears run down your flushed cheeks.

Steve laps at your pussy, moans still falling from his mouth. Only as you whimper weakly does he pull away from you, but not without giving your clit another teasing lick, causing you to spasm which only makes him chuckle darkly.

He carefully removes your legs from his shoulders and lets go of you before he rises back to his full height.

You instantly press your legs together, breathing heavily as you try to calm down from the orgasm he just gave you.

What Steve didn’t do before was take in the sight of your bare body, and now as he does it, he has to swallow harshly, his dick twitching in his jeans, begging for release. He finds himself aching for you, even more than before, he not only wants you, he needs you in ways he can’t even describe.

He watches the way your chest glistens with sweat, your nipples hard from the pleasure that curses through your body, your eyes are shut, your brows pulled together. He licks his lips before he bites down as his eyes trace every inch of your skin, the scars that make you look even more attractive.

It takes everything in him not to drop to his knees and taste you once again.

He needs you, he needs to feel you wrapped around his dick, he needs to hear your moans as he fills you to the brim, he needs to fuck you.

Steve unbuckles his belt, the metal clinking against each other, causing you to open your eyes at the sound.

You look at him through your glassy eyes, pushing yourself up on your elbows as you watch him unbutton his pants but before he pushes them down, he reaches for his wallet in his back pocket and you watch him curiously.

He opens it to take out the condom he had prepared for a different… less exciting occasion. He hastily pushes his pants and boxers down, his dick slaps against his stomach and he fails to notice the way your eyes widen or the way your lips part in surprise at the sight, at the size of him. He steps out of his shoes, cursing under his breath as he pushes them aside before he uses both hands to part your legs, getting on the mattress.

Before he rips the foil apart, he looks into your eyes, wanting your consent first but no words have to leave his mouth because you are the first to make the move, you sit up slightly, taking the tiny foil pack from his fingers, surprising him by bringing it up to your lips and ripping it open with your teeth.

Despite the streaks of tears on your skin, the fucked out look in your eyes, the shakiness in your body, you look at him so dangerously.

And he can’t do anything but watch you in awe for a moment, how you wrap your much smaller hand around his dick, pressing your thumb against his slit to tease him.

“O-Oh fuck…” He shudders, eyes nearly closing at only that.

You bite your bottom lip, trying not to drool as you roll the condom over his length. You look up at him again to find him staring at you with flushed cheeks and lust in his eyes. It’s dark in the room, but you can see each other just well enough, the moon shines brightly into your room tonight.

You can’t even help yourself when you cup his cheeks and pull him down for a kiss, closing your eyes when your lips meet again.

He grabs your waist, making you crawl back until you’re far enough on the mattress for your head to hit the pillows when he pushes you down. He presses his hands on your knees and you part your legs eagerly for him.

His fingers trace your skin as he brings his hand up, passing your hip bone and your waist and grabbing your boob with roughness as he slips his tongue into your mouth, wanting you to taste yourself. He pinches your nipple with his fingers, smirking against you when you whine and writhe underneath him.

You reach your hand down, not wanting to waste any more seconds, you wrap your hand around his dick again, jerking him off a few times before you line him up with your entrance, whining desperately again.

Steve breaks the kiss and opens his eyes to look at you, “you’re so desperate for my cock, huh?” He breathes, still playing with your nipple.

You raise yourself up a little, pecking his lips again as you nod your head.

He can’t believe that you are this needy for him, that you are giving him those eyes.

If only he knew how many times you have dreamt of this moment.

“Please,” you whimper.

“Please what, Blondie?” He teases you as his hand now slides down your stomach, fingertips brushing your clit, making you shiver.

You blink and you breathe heavily as you place your hand on his shoulder, “please fuck me, Steve… Please…”

A satisfied smirk appears on his face, your desperation making him feel smug – but the smugness quickly dissolves into something else when he pushes inside you and feels your tightness around him for the very first time.

You breathe in harshly and hold it, shutting your eyes when you feel him stretching you out. Nothing could have prepared you for this moment, not his tongue, not his fingers, nothing. The stretch is both painful and delicious, it makes you gasp but it also makes you drool as he inches deeper and deeper.

Steve can only curse and whimper in pleasure as he watches his cock disappearing inside of you, he doesn’t push in fully though, too scared to hurt you.

He bites his bottom lip, bottoming out again before he pushes back in, listening to the wet sound and the neediness in your voice as you moan.

“M-More,” you whine, your eyes now watching him, “please…”

His dick twitches at the sound of that and at the look on your face.

“Fuck me, Steve.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice, he pushes in deeper than before, until he’s buried inside of you completely. Usually, he would take a moment to catch his breathe, to adjust to the tightness but he is too eager, too desperate for this. So he grabs your hips and he starts thrusting, slowly at first, not wanting to hurt you.

You gasp, hands finding the sheets beneath you again as your eyes follow the movement of his hips, watching the way his dick slides in and out of you. You throw your head back and look at his face next.

Strands of his hair fall in front of his eyes, his lips are puffy from all the kissing, his cheeks are flushed. He is moaning, for you, because of you. You are in utter bliss, feeling pride swell in your chest when he moans even louder as you clench around him.

He watches the way he fucks you, eyes growing darker and darker and then, he looks at your chest, the way your tits bounce from the movements, something that prompts him to move his hips even faster, fucking into you harder now.

“F-Fuck,” you whine loudly.

His eyes meet your face and the pleasure on it is suddenly not enough for him, he wants to throw you over the edge, he needs to hear you scream for him.

He curses under his breath when you clench around him again.

Steve’s knees dig into the mattress, his fingers now holding you even stronger than before, he is sure to leave bruises but you don’t mind, you would never mind. He fastens his pace, railing into you and thrusting in and out of you, making you fall apart in the matter of a few seconds. You can’t speak, even if you tried. All that you can do is moan pathetically, letting him use you.

“You take me so well, holy shit, Blondie,” he whimpers, voicing out his thoughts, brows scrunching together as he watches you, your lips parted, moans that he only ever dreamt of leaving you. “L-Look at you, fuck. If I knew that my cock would shut you up, I would’ve done this a long time ago.”

“S-Steve!” You whine with a high pitched voice, something that only leads him to pound you even harder even if a tiny part of him wants to mock you.

Your eyes roll back, the tension in your stomach rolling back in, only stronger and hotter this time, and you already don’t know what to do with yourself, but when he suddenly reaches for your legs, hooking the back of your knees around his forearms, your eyes widen when they meet his again and a wicked smirk appears on his face as he starts fucking you from a different angle, snapping his hips into yours so wildly that you can’t help but cry out as your eyelids become droopy, tears now begging to be released, just like the drool that starts coming from the corner of your mouth.

The room now filled with nothing but the dirty sounds of your skin slapping together, the squelching noises from your pussy and his pleasing moans.

Steve watches you in awe, eyes growing wide when he sees just how cockdrunk you are for him.

He fucks you recklessly, eagerly and as though it is the last thing he will ever do.

Your tears fall freely, your whimpers turning into cries the moment his thumb finds your clit again.

He feels your walls clenching around him, gripping his twitching cock tightly – and he knows you’re close, he knows that he is close but he doesn’t want to stop, he doesn’t want this moment to be over.

Steve savors every second, pounding into you roughly and harshly, grabbing your face with his left hand when your head falls to the side, he needs to watch you, he needs to see you when you cum around him.

“You wanna cum for me?” He asks breathlessly.

You nod eagerly, without letting a word fall from your lips, you only nod and whine.

You feel the overstimulation rushing through you, the fire in your stomach that is about to burst into something bigger. You can feel him everywhere, he is so deep inside of you that it makes your body shake like crazy, but it feels good, so good that it almost wants to make you cry for different reasons when you think about how this could be a one time thing.

His hand leaves your face, he throws his palm into the pillow next to you, holding it tightly as his own eyes fall shut now, moaning your name as he picks up the pace of his fingers against your clit, his hips snapping faster into yours now.

“I-I’m–”

“I know, I know…” He coos, letting his face fall into the crook of your neck.

You feel the urge to feel him even closer, so despite the weakness in your body, you use every bit of your strength to lift your hand and press it against his warm back.

“Cum for me,” he whimpers into your neck before he bites into your flesh, marking you up for anyone to see.

A loud gasp tears out of you as his last thrusts grow rougher and his fingers move faster, you can’t help but dig your nails into his back, scratching him as stars blur your vision and the shockwaves grip your body so tightly as you cum around his cock, just as he spills into the condom, moaning into your neck.

You can’t even feel your tears nor the drool still coming out of your mouth, all that you can feel is him. Your arm now falls back onto the mattress and your eyes shutting as the darkness starts to envelope you.

“F-Fuck,” he whispers as he stops moving, pressing another kiss to your neck before he pulls out of you, hissing at the feeling.

He can feel your trembling body beneath his, the sighs that keep falling from your lips, he smugly pulls away to take a look at you, only to see your eyes dropping as you start to lose your consciousness.

“Shit,” he whispers, cupping your cheeks, “you okay, Blondie?”

You nod as best as you can, slapping his hand away as you snuggle into the pillows, not even bothering with the blanket.

He scratches the back of his neck, pressing his lips together as he watches you fall asleep so quickly. He can’t help but feel smug as he looks at the way your thighs are trembling still.

He stands up, leaving the room to walk into the bathroom, where the light is still turned on. He steps inside, noticing how the mirror is a little fogged, the smell of vanilla and strawberries lingering in the air, making his stomach flutter ever so slightly.

Discarded clothes lay on the ground, he picks them up and puts them on the counter before he rolls off the condom, tying it up before he throws it into the trash. He turns towards the sink and washes his hands before he walks back into your room, a smile tugging on his lips.

He plops down beside you, pulling the cover over you and himself, scooting closer to you.

He doesn’t know where this will go or what is going to happen tomorrow but as he looks at your stained face, and every single previous second replays in his head, he is sure of one thing.

There is not a single fucking chance that this is going to be a one time thing.

♡

tagging friends and mutuals!

@prettyboyeddiemunson @taintedcigs @mysticmunson @wroteclassicaly @maroon-cardigan @munson-mjstan @sherrylyn628 @munsonlore @ibellcipem @joekeerysmoles

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington smut #steve harrington enemies to lovers #stranger things angst

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nochukoo97 · 7 months

Text

venom

pairing: boxer!jungkook x boxer!reader

summary: after a nasty breakup with your ex, who was a boxer, the person who introduced you to the sport, you decided to make life easier for yourself and switch clubs. little did you know that your club leader, also known as ‘venom’ in the ring, would eventually spark your interest. no matter how much jungkook interests you, you can’t bear to risk another failed relationship, you’re still hurt and traumatised from the inside. but will jungkook manage to crawl his way into your heart?

warnings: MINORS DNI! dom!jk, sub!oc, oral (f&m), fingering, unprotected sx (pls dont), kissing, oc is a little whiny heh, i hope thats all

wc: 10k+

teaser | masterlist

When your ex-boyfriend, Jaehyun, had introduced you into boxing, you immediately fell in love with the sport. In fact, Jaehyun had personally trained you, he had been a boxer for many years, and he had been the one who had taught you all your skills and techniques you know today.

Little did you know this relationship that seemed perfect, both of you being interested in boxing, would turn upside down. Jaehyun had been the sweetest, most charming guy at the beginning of your relationship, but the moment you had turned 20, he had begun tormenting you, using boxing as an excuse to purposefully hit you a little harder than needed, to push you to the ground and belittle you.

The man who you once thought would be your forever partner, became your biggest nightmare. He became unrecognisable to you, making your insecurities shoot through the roof, degrading you to the lowest of the lowest.

Hell, you didn’t know how you managed to put through months of that treatment, before one day you eventually snapped after spotting Jaehyun with another girl from the club, Jisan, at the gym late at night kissing.

It broke your heart, but at the same time you knew that it would be dumb to stay on and even try to forgive him, no matter how many times he had begged at your feet to stay, claiming he would change and be a better boyfriend to you.

That’s how you find yourself trailing behind Jimin, the man who had offered you to join their club.

You researched beforehand, Jeon Jungkook, leader of the club, ring name ‘Venom’, he’s won too many competitions to count.

“Don’t worry, most of the guys here are pretty friendly, there’s another girl here too, so you won’t be alone either,” The man you follow tells you, he had introduced himself to you, Jimin, saying that he was one of the members of the club.

“That’s nice to hear, I didn’t really have good company at my old club,” You let a smile out, Jimin seemed friendly and approachable, your new start was already looking good in your eyes.

“Anyways, this is where we train,” He leads you through a glass door, the familiar sounds of heavy breathing and sand bags being punched immediately reach your ears, it’s almost satisfying, being back in boxing after a month of break.

“And that’s our team leader over there, we call him Venom in the ring,” He chuckles, head nodding towards the man going at the black sandbag.

You watch as he goes at the punching bag, eyes narrowed, focused, his black gloves attack the bag, the gold lettering on the gloves spells out his nickname, ‘Venom’.

“Jeon! New girl is here!” He calls out, making the man halt, turning to look at the both of you. Jimin’s words attracted the other members, there were a few who rushed to you before the team leader did.

“Damn, we got a pretty one,” The guy nearest to you nudgest your arm playfully, as you blink, unsure of how to react.

“Tae, stop it,” Jimin nudges the guy back, “Sorry, he’s usually like that, he doesn’t have the intention to make you uncomfortable,” he scratches the back of his neck.

“Leave her alone, go back to what you were doing,” You spot Jungkook pushing the guys away, grumbling as he approaches you.

Or should you not call him Jungkook? Maybe it was disrespectful.

“___?” You whip your head up to meet his gaze as he calls you, more in a questioning sort of way.

“Yes,”

“I’ve heard good stuff about you,” His stance towers over you, it makes you a little wary of his already brooding aura.

“I want to see her skills,” He tells Jimin, who nods in response.

“You ready? This is your first test to see if you can truly survive here, I’m not gonna go easy on you,” He warns you, tightening the strap on his gloves.

“I’m ready,” You walk over to your bag sitting at the corner of the room, fetching your gloves as you quickly wrap your hands and put the gloves on.

To say Jungkook was impressed, was an understatement. Hell, he did not expect you to dodge and hit every attack so precisely.

“You did well, good job,” He tells you, removing his gloves and watching as you smile back at him, panting slightly as you bow.

“What on earth did I just hear,” Another guy deadpans from the side, jaw dropping to the ground.

“There’s no way Jeon just let out a praise,” He gasps, “Come on man, in my six years of knowing you you’ve never complimented me once!”

“Whatever,” Jungkook grumbles back at him.

You make eye contact with Jimin, who also seems amused at the team leader’s behaviour. Was he not acting normal? Why was everyone so amazed by his words?

“I gotta say, ___, that was impressive, I’m Yoongi,” Another man, around the same height as Jimin, approaches you, extending a hand. You politely bow, shaking his hand.

It seems like joining this club wasn’t so bad after all, it seemed like a welcoming place with good support already.

unknown number: hi __, this is jungkook, jimin passed me your number.

unknown number: come early tmr, you’re gonna meet your trainer.

You pick up your phone, the screen lighting up caught your attention.

you: okay, thanks.

The next day you quickly head towards the club, grabbing a quick breakfast along the way. Before you push open the glass door to the entrance, you spot Jungkook training with another man whom you had not seen previously.

“___, come,” He calls out to you, heaving when he abruptly stops punching the mitts, “This is Woojae, he’s my personal trainer and I want you to train with him,”

WHAT?. Jungkook’s personal trainer?

“I’ve told him not to go easy on you, just because you’re a girl doesn’t mean you’re weaker than anyone else here, am I right?” He leans closer, whispering into your ear as his hand clasps around your arm.

“Yes,” You almost shudder at the close proximity, you’ve never felt this intimidated by someone before. To be honest, you were proud of your strong aura that you carried while boxing, not afraid to spar with even the burliest of team mates. Yet somehow Jungkook, or Venom, had a different effect on you.

“Hi ___, nice to meet you,” Woojae, quickly shrugs off the mitt on his hand, shaking your hand.

“I’ll finish up here with Jeon and then I’ll analyse your performance ‘kay?” He tells you, while putting the mitts back on, you nod your head, taking a seat on the floor to watch while wrapping up your hands.

You noticed Jungkook’s eyes had a different glint in it whenever he began boxing. The way his eyes would narrow, focused on whatever was in front of him, the grunts he let out after releasing a strong punch, his heavy breathing filling the air.

It was fascinating to you, having always dreamt of being in Jungkook’s position. But being a female in a male dominated sport was hard, if you were lucky, you had competitions with other females. But the majority of them were still males. Yet you didn’t feel this was a disadvantage, after all you still managed to win.

“___, your turn,” Woojae calls you out, as you quickly get up, getting onto the mat.

The first few minutes of sparring was not bad, it definitely wasn’t easy considering you could tell Woojae was not going easy on you. His attacks back at you were much more complicated, it often took you by surprise.

WACK.

You don’t even realise what’s happening before Woojae’s glove comes into contact with your left cheek.

A groan emits from your throat, hand reaching up to touch the area with your gloves.

“Gonna give up? Or are you gonna continue to fight like a strong fighter?” Woojae nudges you a little harshly with his glove, he definitely was not going easy on you.

But still, who were you to give up? You’ve been hit multiple times before, but this time it simply felt different. With your team leader’s gaze trained on you.

You quickly get back into your starting position, attacking back at Woojae. With each punch you throw, your ponytail swishes slightly, a pant comes out from your mouth.

Jungkook notices the change in your demeanour, you have this determined look in your eyes, hands up and ready to fight back. It’s impressive to him.

You weren’t about to give up so easily. You were gonna prove you are worthy of being in this club.

“___, out of my many years of knowing Jeon, he’s never once offered anyone else his personal trainer,” Mingyu, another team member whom you had recently gotten to know, whispers as he gazes to where Jungkook was, punching a sandbag.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” You wave him off, chuckling, “Maybe he just wants to toughen me up with training so he assigned the same trainer?”

“Nah, I think you’re different. The other girl here, Yubin, she’s currently on holiday, but she practically begged Jeon to train with her and his trainer,” He starts, “It’s like a miracle to see him like this,”

Hoseok, you came to learnt who was also another teammate, leans in to join your conversation, “Yeah, and just warning you, shes like fucking delusional about him, our leader gets so annoyed whenever she clings onto him,” He laughs, as you nod, eyebrows slightly raised at the new information.

“___, I’ll start with you today,” Woojae comes up to you, reaching out a hand to pull you up from where you were sitting on the floor.

“Have fun!” Hoseok calls out, as you laugh at him, turning back to trail behind your trainer.

You had been told today was a match between Jungkook and someone else from a neighbouring team,

“That guy’s name is Eunwoo, he used to be best friends with Jeon, but they’re aren’t on the best of terms,” Jimin tells you, pointing towards the other guy in the ring, “Jeon’s in for a lot of money,”

Another thing you learnt was that Jungkook and Eunwoo had fought before, and after Jungkook had won, Eunwoo insisted on a rematch immediately.

The match was held at your club’s gym, people from different clubs surrounded the ring, chatters filled the room and both guys prepared in their own rooms. It seemed to be a huge thing, considering even though it was only two clubs fighting, there were at least five others who came to watch.

“Okay! Settle down, we’re starting now,” The announcer spoke through the microphone, catching everyone’s attention as the noise reduced to mutters.

“First, we have the one and only ‘Venom’, the previous champion!” Jungkook enters the ring, with Namjoon by his side, another team member. His eyes are trained on his opponent, who was currently outside the ring, preparing to enter.

“Next, it’s Eunwoo, who challenged Jeon back for a rematch, he seems prepared today,” Eunwoo enters the ring with his cornerman, chest puffed out as he approaches Jungkook.

“Nice to see you again Jeon, hope you’ll enjoy the taste of defeat today,” He sneers, coming a little too close to Jungkook for his liking.

“Fuck off, you better watch what you say,” Jungkook grits his teeth, his black mouth guard showing as he shoves Eunwoo back to remain a distance.

The crowd releases a series of ‘oohs’ and ‘damns’, as Namjoon pulls Jungkook a little further back, in an attempt to call him down.

The bell rings, both cornermen step aside, as Jungkook and Eunwoo approach each other, both their fists kept up.

Eunwoo launches the first attack, jabbing at Jungkook who blocks all the attacks, his fists remain up, not faltering once.

But throughout, Jungkook doesn’t attack back at Eunwoo, he only dodges and defends all his attacks, making the crowd confused.

“What the hell is Jeon doing? I placed so much fucking money on that guy, is he wimping out?”

“What’s going on with Venom today? I’ve never seen him like this,”

“Jeon, are you being a pussy? Gonna lose that ‘Venom’ title?” Eunwoo provokes, but Jungkook doesn’t respond, he only glares at him, dodging another punch.

“Why is he not attacking back?” You turn to Jimin, who’s sitting beside you.

“He’s using a new technique, but it’s surprising, he’s never practiced this before and it’s usually discouraged,” Jimin turns to face you, “He’s basically trying to tire Eunwoo out and conserve his energy till the last minute,”

Your mouth opens to form an ‘o’, nodding your head as you watch Eunwoo continuously provoke Jungkook.

“Come on! Are you sure you’re just gonna put your fucking hands up and dodge my attacks? Why? Too fucking weak to even attack back, what happened to you Jeon?” Eunwoo spits in his face, laughing while pulling his hand down to jab Jungkook in the rib, making him falter back and groan.

“Shit, he got hit pretty hard there,” Hoseok mutters beside you.

“Or is it because of that new girl in your club huh? Fancy her? Maybe when I win, I’ll ask the pretty girl to come and kiss me on the cheek, huh? Would you like that?” You stiffen at the mention, some people amongst the crowd letting out reactions and turning their gaze to you.

That was all it took for Jungkook to growl back at Eunwoo, deciding he was done playing games with the guy and waiting for him to tire out.

Jungkook quickly regains his composure, this time he isn’t waiting to tire the guy out anymore, instead he throws full-blown jabs back at Eunwoo, grunting harshly.

“Fuck! That really got you going huh?” Eunwoo attempts to dodge, slowly losing his energy.

“Eunwoo! What the fuck are you doing! Wake up!” His coach yells from the crowd, watching as Eunwoo takes a hit from your team leader.

Jungkook sends a jab to Eunwoo’s rib, causing him to falter, his glove makes contact with Eunwoo’s jaw, watching as the guy falls to the floor, groaning.

“Are you gonna get up? Or accept that I’ll always win you,” Jungkook sneers, launching another jab to the guy’s rib.

“10, 9, 8, 7,” The announcer begins counting down into the mic, Eunwoo attempts to get back up, but groans as his arms give way and fall back to the ground.

“Awww, gonna accept defeat again like the last time?” Jungkook leans down, pressing his glove into Eunwoo’s torso.

“Fuck- Off,” Eunwoo grunts, using all the strength he has left to push Jungkook off him.

“6, 5, 4,” The cheers begin filling the room, “3, 2, 1!”

“Venom takes the championship again! Jungkook wins the match!” The announcer lifts Jungkook’s arm up, signaling victory.

The room bursts into cheers and Jungkook smirks, turning to face his club. Eunwoo’s team on the other hand seemed the opposite, having lost all the money bet on him.

“Try again next time, huh Eunwoo?” Jungkook turns to his opponent, laughing as he exits the ring.

Eunwoo can only mutter curses under his breath, his cornerman quickly aiding him to stand up.

“___,” You hear Jungkook’s voice call out to you, as you whip your head up to face him.

“Did I do good today?” He leans down to whisper into your ear, as you shudder, his hot breath fanning onto your skin, “Hmm?”

Your cheeks are flushed, as Jungkook pulls back to read your expression. Why was he suddenly being so bold in front of so many people?

Of course, people amongst the crowd noticed this, they sent a few reactions, which made you even more embarrassed at the sudden attention.

“Yeah, you did great,” You can’t even look him in the eye, eyes trained on his chest, heaving heavily as he catches his breath.

Jungkook nudges your chin fondly, chuckling as he pats your head, heading over to his room to change and cool down.

“I’ve never seen our team leader do that in my whole life, what’s going on,” Jimin nudges you from the side, as the rest of your club members join in agreeing.

“Honestly, I don’t know either,” You mutter, cheeks still tainted a bright red from the previous situation.

“Hi! I’m Yubin! Nice to meet you, seems like I’ll finally have a friend,” The girl in front of you seems more friendly than you had expected. When Hoseok had mentioned Yubin to you, you had initially thought that she would be snarky and mean, maybe she wasn’t as bad as she seems.

Okay nevermind, you’ve definitely made an assumption way too early.

“Kookie, can you please help me hold my mitt?” You watch, wincing slightly at the scene before you. Yubin is clinging onto Jungkook’s arm, the tattooed one, as she holds out the mitts in front of her.

“Don’t call me that,” Jungkook grunts, shoving Yubin away from him.

She doesn’t take this too well, whining as she dramatically pouts in front of him, “Please? I want to train with you,”

Jimin cringes from the side, nudging your shoulder to check if you were witnessing the scene unfold before you. Oh, for sure you were.

“I can’t, I’m gonna start training,” He turns away from the girl, grunting under his breath.

“___, come here,” When Woojae suddenly calls you out, you whip your head up, grabbing your gloves and the wrap and heading towards him. The trainer makes Jungkook hold on to your mitts, to which Jungkook doesn’t reject.

Yubin doesn’t like this one bit, she immediately drops her jaw in shock, glaring straight at you as you approach the man.

“I need to wrap my hands first, hold on,” You tell Woojae, dropping your gloves to wrap your hands.

“Bring it here, I’ll do it,” Jungkook takes the roll from you, skillfully wrapping up your hand quickly.

“Kookie, how is that fair?” Yubin whines from the side, standing beside the both of you as she watches Jungkook finish up wrapping your hands.

“Yubin, get out, I’m trying to train with her,” He turns to glare at the girl, making her cower away.

“That’s so unfair, suddenly she comes in and has all his attention,” Yubin mutters under her breath as she walks away, but you manage to catch that. It somehow makes you proud inside.

“I want to spar with ___,” Yubin announces, as Jungkook crosses his arms, frowning at the girl sitting across from him. Most of the guys were sitting around at the couch, right before practice. Today was meant to be a more laid back practice, so it meant the trainers were not in the gym today.

“Why?” Jungkook questions the girl, “I’m not sure you’re at her level yet,”

Yubin gasps, purely offended at that, she stands up, declaring, “Don’t care, gonna spar with her today, I’ll tell her when she arrives.”

The sudden news definitely shocks you when you enter the gym, but nonetheless you still accept it, putting on your gloves and getting into the ring.

To your surprise, since you weren’t aware of what her level was, you managed to get her on the floor easily within the first few minutes of sparring. One jab to her rib and she had already landed on the ground, unable to get up.

“I think I broke my rib,” She sobs, sounds rather fake to you, but you still rush to her side, apologising as you ask her where it hurts.

“Piss off, you purposefully hurt me,” She grunts, launching a punch to your face unexpectedly.

You only feel the harsh contact between her glove and your nose, a loud crunch sounding out as you groan.

“Fuck, are you okay? Hey! Someone get a towel, she's bleeding quite badly!” You can hear Jimin yell, as someone scurries to retrieve the towel

Pain sears through your face, your nose throbs as you wince, hissing at the pain.

When you open your eyes, there’s a puddle of blood in front of you, blood dripping down from your nose as you quickly remove your gloves.

And yet Yubin has the audacity to fake whine, “Guys, I literally broke my rib here and you’re all attending to her?”

“Yubin, your rib is fine, I felt it just now, there isn’t even a bruise so quit complaining,” Tae groans, nudging the girl to get up from the floor.

“I’ll do it,” Jungkook comes back with a wet cloth, but pulls it away from Jimin’s grasp when he tries to take it.

“What?” Jimin is dumbfounded as he watches Jungkook carefully grab your chin, making you turn to face him as he wipes off the blood from your face.

“What the hell is going on…” Hoseok mutters, watching in awe as Jungkook, the man known for his powerful and brooding aura, tenderly wipes your face with a cloth. It astounds everyone to see their team leader be so gentle for once.

“Yubin, what’s your problem?” Jungkook turns to face the girl, eyebrows furrowed as his expression contrasts to his hands gently tending to you.

“She hit me too hard! Jungkook, can’t you see she almost broke my rib!” Yubin’s being unnecessarily dramatic at this point, and everyone else can see right through her.

“Don’t bother coming back tomorrow, you’re suspended from here until after tomorrow. The rules are clear, no foul play, and you clearly punched her after the sparring was over.” He orders her, making her exit the gym.

“Come, go to the medical room, you busted your lip too,” Jungkook grabs your hand, leading you into the room and closing the door behind him.

Your heart is erratically pounding in your chest, your breathing is slightly heavier, from both the previous sparring and Jungkook’s ministrations.

You sit on the couch in the room, hands fiddling with each other as Jungkook shuffles through the medical kit.

“Thanks for that just now,” You whisper, but Jungkook catches it, turning to face you, the corner of his lips turning up into a smile.

“Just ignore her, she’s usually like that.” He tells you, taking a cotton bud and applying the ointment on your busted lip. You wince at the sudden contact, hissing as the cut stings.

“Sorry, it’ll be quick I promise,” He tells you, eyes focusing on applying the cream.

Seeing Jungkook so up close does things to your heart, you notice his two lip piercings, the chain necklace he has on, his hair covering his eyes slightly.

You unconsciously reach up to swipe his hair out of his face, before quickly pulling your hand back once you realise what you were doing.

“Hmm?” He hums, looking back up to make eye contact with you. Jungkook’s heart pounds in his chest as he scans your face, cheeks tainted as your eyes stare back at his. Fuck, you do things to him.

“Am I making you soft? Why does everyone act so surprised when you do this kind of stuff?” You whisper, maintaining eye contact with him.

“Maybe you are,” He brushes a strand of hair away from your face, it makes your heart skip a beat. “Why? Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” You mumble, looking down at your hands in your lap. Your voice wavers as you reply, not trusting yourself to speak fully.

“So you’ll let me do this?” He leans in, breath fanning against your ear. Your breath hitches, his close proximity is so familiar to you, yet not. Even though it wasn’t the first time he was playing with you like this, it had caught you by surprise every time.

You stiffen slightly as you feel his lips make contact with your ear for a split second, eyes widening as he pulls back to face you.

“You’re cute when you're flustered. A whole different person. When you’re fighting you look like an angry cat,” He chuckles, teasing you as you gasp.

“No I don’t!” You slap his chest playfully, feeling at ease with the man already.

“Mm, okay,” He muses, turning back to place the ointment into the medical kit.

You clutch onto your chest for a second, processing what had just happened.

He’s about to be the death of you.

“___, there’s another girl from a team who requested to spar with you, her name’s Jisan, you’ll be in a match with her next week,” Namjoon approaches you, telling you.

“What?” You gasp, raising your voice a little as Namjoon is taken aback by your reaction.

“Nothing,” You sigh. There was no way Jisan, the girl Jaehyun had cheated with you on, had the nerves to even set up a match with you like that. But still, it gave you an opportunity to get your revenge back, so who were you to back down from this fight?

For the next week following up to the fight, you’ve been staying late at the gym, punching the same sandbag as you push yourself to work harder. There was no way you were letting yourself fall to Jisan.

“___, go home, you’re exerting yourself too much,” Jimin tells you, holding the sandbag to stop it from swaying.

“Can’t” You pant, resting your palms on your thighs as you catch your breath, “Can’t lose to her, need to practice,”

“I’m telling you, you’re gonna over exert yourself and not do as well during the actual match,” He warns you, but leaves you alone, packing up his stuff to leave.

“I won’t, I just need to train as hard as I can to beat her.”

Oh, how wrong were you.

Jisan currently has you pinned against the floor, you groan as she lands another punch square to your jaw.

“___! Get up!” You can hear Woojae shout from the side, but everything’s hurting from how hard the girl had punched you.

“Jisan! Jisan! Jisan!” That’s all you hear as the crowd cheers, the countdown already starting as you struggle against her.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, no wonder Jaehyun left you for me,” She sneers in your face, as a tear escapes from your eye.

“Hah! What a pussy! Babe, take a look at her, pathetic,” She calls over to Jaehyun in the crowd, making you growl underneath her. It’s too late, the bell shrills, indicating your defeat.

You don’t bother to wait for Woojae to come and assist you down, instead, you run out of the ring, out of the gym and far away from the crowd, to a place behind the gym where no one went to.

It hurts your pride, especially to lose to someone like Jisan. You didn’t miss the way Jaehyun had laughed right in your face as he watched you get beaten up. It made you so mad that you let yourself lose to someone like her.

There was a sandbag hanging there, as you relentlessly attacked it, releasing all your pent up anger. Despite how many times you tried to punch the bag, your emotions built up on top of each other.

It’s like your world is crashing down, as you slide down and curl up into a ball, sobbing. Your pride was at your lowest, to be tormented by your ex, have him laugh in your face, have the girl he cheated on with you to beat you in a boxing match, it made you feel like you were worthless.

It’s been almost an hour as you sit against the wall, sobbing into your arms as you stare at the ground. Why did you have to lose? You spent so much energy into preparing for this match, yet you lost.

“___,” You hear someone call out to you, hand wrapping around your sobbing figure. But you push whoever was there away, there was no way anyone could see you in this state.

“Come here, it’s only me here, everyone else left,” You recognise the voice now, it’s Jungkook.

“Go away, I’m fine,” You sniff, whipping away the tear rolling down your cheek. It was even more embarrassing to you that Jungkook had seen you fail in front of his own eyes, and now he’s watching you weep pathetically because you lost to Jisan.

“It’s fine to lose you know, ___,” He squats next to you, but you only turn away, refusing to show your face.

“It’s not okay when that’s the girl my ex cheated with me on in my old club,” You spit out, a scoff coming out from your mouth at the thought of them.

Jungkook stiffens slightly at this, having not known much about your previous experience with your old club. He had only merely known that you had been with another club but it wasn’t ideal for you, which was why you had switched over.

“I have lost to many people like that before too, people who I want to get revenge on, you know?” He starts, sitting next to you, “But because I was so focused on the fact that I hated them, and I wanted them to lose so badly, I put aside my focus on actually implementing my skills during the match,”

You turn over to watch him through your teary eyes, noticing his gaze softening the moment he makes eye contact with you.

“And I know you aren’t weak for a fact, in fact everyone in the crowd could tell that it wasn’t the fact that you weren’t capable enough. We could tell you were distracted with something else, which is why I also came to find you,” He brushes your hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear.

“I know how strong you are ___, or else why would I accept you into my club, hmm?” He tells you, “Don’t let this defeat indicate your strength and level in boxing, our whole team knows how strong you are,”

“The most important thing is to put aside everything else, and just focus on your skills in the match. Never let anything else falter you,”

You can’t help but smile at the praise, even though your heart still feels heavy after the loss, maybe his words took a little of that weight off your chest.

“If you want, I’ll spend extra time after training to train with you,”

You whip your head up, eyes widening in shock.

“Really? You don’t mind?”

“I wouldn’t mind since I can see the potential in you ___,”

So you and Jungkook had begun staying back after practice and training together, and the both of you had definitely grown closer than before.

“Good!” He praises as you relentlessly attack his hits, punching the mitts with all your might.

“One more round then we’re done,” You nod your head, catching your breath and taking a sip of water before returning back to the mat where Jungkook was waiting.

“Start,” You’re about to hit the mitt, preparing to launch a jab before you’re cut short, both you and Jungkook were shocked to hear the door to the gym open.

Practice ended at least a good hour ago, so everyone should have gone home by now.

But of course, you shouldn’t be surprised that Yubin was the one entering the gym, a fake gasp coming from her mouth as she runs up to Jungkook.

“Yubin, what are you doing here,” Jungkook shrugs her hand off when she clings onto his arm.

“Are you giving ___ private lessons? Can I join?” She flutters her lashes at him, pouting and attempting to give him puppy eyes, remember, attempting.

You decide to take matters into your own hands, why must she get in the way of you and Jungkook?

“No Yubin, we’re specifically only training together, besides, aren’t you supposed to be home now? I’ll see you tomorrow,” You tell her, grabbing Jungkook’s arm and pulling him back to the mat. He raises an eyebrow at you, smirking as he lets himself get pulled by you.

Yubin scoffs at this, she doesn’t have any intentions of giving up, as she approaches you both again.

“Jungkookie~, You’ll let me join right?” She asks him, standing a little too close to Jungkook to your liking.

“No Yubin,” He grunts, putting the mitts back on and ignoring her shocked reaction. You can only laugh watching her stomp out of the gym.

“Jealous, huh?” He taunts you, smirking as he watches your reaction.

“No, I just wanted to train, didn’t want her in the way,” You mumble, pulling your arms up to get ready.

Jungkook finds it amusing, but he doesn’t comment on your behaviour further, simply complying and returning back to train you.

To say you and Jungkook had grown close was an understatement, he would treat you to dinner or food after your training, and would constantly text you to check up on your health. You were content with this, but your heart said otherwise. There was always this small part of you that craved for more, that yearned for a deeper relationship with him. Yet the possibility of a new relationship failing just like your old one with Jaehyun, led you to push those feelings aside.

You sigh, punching the sandbag again as you snap out of your daze. Ever since Jungkook’s fight with Eunwoo, he seemed to be more interested in you, playing with your heart and teasing you here and there. It made you go crazy, thinking about him when you went to bed and the moment you woke up.

“Hey ___, what are you doing after this?” Mingyu taps you on the shoulder, catching your attention.

“I’m gonna train with Woojae and Jungkook, then I should be done for the day, why?” You tell him, holding the sandbag in place to stop it from swaying.

“Wanna get drinks with me? I’m bored and I wanted to go to this bar,” Mingyu smiles at you, waiting for your response.

“Sure, I’ve got to tell Jungkook to cancel our extra practice today, hold on,” You were definitely taken aback by the sudden ask, but you weren’t opposed to it either. Mingyu seemed like a friendly guy anyways, to you it was good to make some friends here and there.

You approach the said man, who was currently talking to Jimin.

“Jungkook,” He turns around to face you, the corners of his mouth pulling into a smile.

“I’ve got plans tonight with Mingyu so can we cancel the extra practice today?” You tell him, Jungkook’s eyes widen, since when did you have plans with Mingyu, his friend out of all people?

“Yeah sure,” He starts, “He asked you?” Arms folding as he looks over to the guy.

“Yeah,” You reply, noticing a slight frown forming on his face as he gazes over to Mingyu, but you choose to ignore it anyway.

“Okay you’re done today, good work,” Woojae pants, reaching out to bump his gloves into yours. You notice Jungkook standing at the side of the gym, so you head towards him.

“Did I do well today?” You playfully nudge him, giving him a smile as you await his response.

Instead you’re met with a cold “Yeah”, from him, Jungkook doesn’t even spare you a glance before he heads to one of the sandbags, beginning to jab at it a little too hard.

“Jeon, lay back a little, you’re gonna burst another one of those bags,” Woojae jokes, laughing as he packs up his stuff. Jungkook doesn’t respond, he only continues to punch it harder.

“Don’t worry about him, to be honest this is his normal self, ever since you came along he’s been more soft, so don’t be too surprised,” Woojae whispers towards you, as you only meekly nod.

But why was he being different all of a sudden? Did you do something?

“Hey ___, you’re done right? Let’s go,” Mingyu wraps his arm around you, as you giggle, following him. But you also don’t fail to notice the punching sounds in the back growing unconsciously louder.

It was the morning of your huge fight, you headed to the gym to warm up before the match, expecting to see Jungkook there. Yet when you enter the gym, you’re met with cold, hard silence.

Maybe he just wanted more sleep? He’ll be watching your match for sure right?

When you enter the ring, even though a whole crowd of people was cheering you on, a huge sum of money was placed on you, you couldn’t help but enter with a heavy heart.

Looking over to where your team sat, your team leader, Jungkook, was nowhere to be seen. The spot where he usually sits empty.

Was he really that mad at you to the point he didn’t come to your match? You honestly thought deep down inside, maybe you and him had something together, it made you want to believe in relationships again.

You don’t have time to look over and wait for the said man to arrive, as the announcer introduces you and your opponent.

Throughout the first round, you were constantly being attacked, you failed to defend yourself, your opponent managing to catch you at your weakest moments, jabbing you right and left. And everytime you tried to attack back, she managed to block your hits, tiring you out instantly.

You couldn’t help it, not when Jungkook was in your mind. Not when you couldn’t spot the man sitting amongst the crowd.

The bell shrills when you land on the ground, unable to get up. You still had one more round, yet you were ready to give up.

Woojae walks over to help you up, “___, what’s up with you today?”

“I don’t know,” You can’t even bear to look him in his eyes, head hung low as you walk to your prep room.

“Whatever it is, you have half an hour to sort it out, whether you lose or win, put in your best effort, not whatever happened out there,” He strictly tells you, before closing the door, leaving you alone in the room to gather your thoughts.

“Where is he? Did I really do something that bad to anger him?” You mutter under your breath, a string of curse words escape your mouth, frustration boiling from you.

“I’ve been watching you from in here,”

You immediately jump at the voice, chills running down your spine as you whip your head up. Jungkook’s standing against the wall, back leaning on the wall with his arms folded, you can’t read his expression, but he nods his head towards the TV mounted to the wall, the empty ring displayed on the screen.

“You scared me,” You whisper, letting out a sigh of relief, at least it wasn’t what you thought it was, some kind of ghost.

“Did you forget what I told you?” He approaches you, slowly walking towards your seated figure on the couch. “To not let anything else distract you and focus on your skills in the game?”

“That’s bold of you to say when you were the reason why I couldn’t focus just now,” You scoff, before stiffening up, realising that you had just exposed yourself.

“Hmm? You were thinking about me?” He leans closer to face you, both your faces inches apart.

Your breath hitches in your throat, your heart pounds in your chest, you’re pretty sure he might even be able to hear it.

“No, I mean, not really,” You turn your head to face away from his gaze, but he only puts a finger under your chin to guide you to face back to him.

“You sure?” He taunts you, a smirk clear on his face as he watches you flush. “It’s fun to see this side of you, hmm? All flustered under my touch?”

You can’t even reply to him, your eyes only widen as he leans further.

“So you won’t mind if I do this?”

Before you know it, Jungkook’s lips are on yours. Jeon Fucking Jungkook, Venom.

You halt for a second, before wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him back.

When he pulls apart, the both of you pant heavily, staring at each other.

“Been waiting forever to do that, you know?” He breaks the silence first, “Now since you’ve gotten your kiss, you better not be distracted in your second round in ten minutes,”

You gasp, still flustered from a while ago, “How am I supposed to focus now when you just kissed me?”

“Win the match and I’ll give you a reward later,” He pecks your lips, sending you a teasing smile.

You can’t even process what has happened, in the last twenty minutes of your break, Jungkook had kissed you. THE Jungkook kissed you.

This time, Jungkook sits amongst the crowd, you make eye contact with him before going up into the ring, it gives you a boost of motivation.

You’re curious, what reward would he give you if you did win? If you didn’t, would he be disappointed? But he just kissed you, so what does that mean?

“Last round!” The announcer calls out, as you step into the ring. You shake any thoughts off your mind, “Don’t think about anything else, focus,” you tell yourself.

You land a few jabs on your opponent, causing her to falter back. Another right uppercut to her jaw and she falls to the ground. You don’t let her take the opportunity to get up as you jab her again.

The countdown starts, as she tries to get up, with every second that counts, your heart beats harder and harder.

“3,2,1!” The announcer shouts, “___ takes the champion!” He holds up your hand high, as you smile, feeling a surge of relief. Finally, victory is yours.

You spot your team cheering up and down, Jungkook smiling proudly as cheers flood the arena.

“I knew you could do it!” You laugh as Jimin pats you on the back, the other club members had come over to congratulate you as well.

The whole club had decided to go out for a meal as a celebration for your first win, finding a restaurant near the gym.

You decide to text Jungkook, who was sitting across from the table to you.

you: so what’s my reward? 🙃

His phone lights up on the table, catching his attention.

jungkook: you’ll find out later

jungkook: follow me back to my apartment

Your heart thumps in your chest, looking up to make eye contact with the man.

Jungkook gestures towards your phone, signalling for you to check it.

jungkook: follow me outside, im going for a smoke break

“I’ll be outside,” Jungkook stands up, as the rest of the table nods before quickly engaging back in the conversations.

You quietly excuse yourself from the table, scurrying behind Jungkook.

“Come here,” He calls out to you, walking into the alleyway next to the restaurant. You scuttled behind him, watching as he pulls out a cigarette from the box and lights it, inhaling.

“I want to know my reward,” You demand, hands planted on your hips as you stare back at him.

“Patience sweetheart,” He sighs, turning his head to the side and blowing out the smoke.

“So what are we?”

Jungkook’s a little taken aback by the sudden question, but he doesn’t let it show, walking forward to cage you against the wall.

“What do you want us to be?” He whispers, pecking your cheek tenderly.

You don’t reply, tugging his collar to make him lean down, connecting both of your lips.

“Just want you,” You mumble after breaking apart the kiss.

“Yeah? You’ll get me later,” He chuckles, pulling his cigarette in to inhale another breath.

You almost choke on your saliva, gulping as you realised what he just said.

“But for real,” He laughs at your flustered expression, “Be my girlfriend?”

You nod your head, pulling him in for another kiss.

You and Jungkook should have definitely not left the dinner this early considering it was literally your celebratory dinner, but the both of you simply would have gone crazy if you did so.

“Kook, close the door,” You laugh through a kiss as Jungkook hums, mindlessly shutting the front door to his apartment with his foot.

“Fuck, been waiting to do this since forever,” He mumbles, as he trails kisses down your neck, sucking on a spot that makes you grip his arms a little tighter.

The apartment is filled with your soft moans, Jungkook kissing your neck passionately as he groans.

“Up,” He taps your butt, signalling for you to jump up.

You do so, and he carries you into the room, gently placing you on his bed.

You giggle as he peppers more kisses down, before halting to remove his shirt, his torso now full on display for you to see.

You use this opportunity to remove your shirt and pants, leaving you in your underwear, as Jungkook groans at the sight.

“Pretty girl,” He sighs, kissing down to your cleavage, as you giggle, playing with his hair and hands roaming his back.

“Kiss me,” You whine, tapping his shoulders to get him to move his attention back to your lips.

“So needy, huh?” He chuckles, “Gonna make this good for you, yeah? Give you your reward?”

He unclasps your bra, gazing intently at your boobs as he pinches one of your nipples, making you arch your back, a whine emitting from your mouth.

He trails down to your lower body, teeth clasping the band of your underwear as he pulls it down, the sight itself sends a rush of heat to your pussy.

“Jungkook,” Another whine, he shushes you quickly, nose nudging against your clit as you sigh in relief.

His tongue makes contact with your clit, sucking on it as you mewl, sensations overwhelming you already. His fingers begin to trace over your slit, gathering the slick as he slowly pushed two fingers in.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight, how is my cock suppose to fit in here later, huh?” He laughs, breath fanning on your pussy as you shudder.

“I can,” You tell him through moans, hands finding its way through his hair as you tug on it.

“Mm, gonna stretch you out,”

His fingers hit that spongy spot inside of you, as a choked moan escapes your mouth, chanting his name. Sensations overwhelm you as he continues to finger you, sucking on your clit, you’re so close.

“Mmhm- No!” Just as you’re about to climax, Jungkook quickly removes his fingers, your hole clenches, as you whine at the empty feeling.

Jungkook steps back a little, removing his pants as his cock springs up, slapping his stomach.

This time, you immediately take initiative, sitting up from the bed as you take his cock in your hand, slowly stroking it, making Jungkook hiss above you.

You peer up to him, making eye contact as you stick out your tongue to trace over the slit on his head, Jungkook groans at the sight.

“Good girl,” He praises you, as you sink your mouth further down, taking most of his cock, while you continue to stroke the rest.

You bob your head up and down, as Jungkook’s moans grow louder, his hands grip onto your head, slightly pushing your head down as you let out a strangled moan.

“Fuck, fuck enough,” He quickly pulls you back, angry cock red and throbbing as you smile, looking up at him.

“I was about to cum, you don’t know what you do to me,” He sighs, wiping away the drool at the corner of your mouth.

You climb back onto the bed as Jungkook follows you, crawling on top of you as he locks his lips with yours again.

“Ready?” He breaks the kiss, tapping the head of his cock at your entrance. You quickly nod, wrapping your legs around his waist.

A sigh comes from both your mouths as Jungkook sinks in, the stretch bringing you more pleasure than pain.

“You can move,” Jungkook nods, beginning to pick up a rhythm as he pushed his cock in and out of you, moans growing louder.

“Hnggh please” Another strangled moan emits your mouth, as Jungkook chuckles from above you.

“Please what baby? Use your words,” He whispers into your ear, sucking on the skin right below it, making you arch your back further, inching closer to him.

“Faster, please, need you,” You pant, hands roaming his back as he picks up his thrusts, watching as you roll your eyes back in pleasure.

“Yeah? Like that?” You nod, moaning as your nails drag along his broad and muscular back, pleasure overwhelming you.

“Right there! Don’t stop please,” You sob, tightening your grip on his back as he grunts above you, cock slamming into your pussy.

Your thighs begin to shake around his waist as you climax, Jungkook’s cum spurting into your pussy as he lets out a guttural moan.

Quickly pulling out, he kisses you, pushing the strand of hair away from your face. You pant, smiling into the kiss as the both of you catch your breath.

“Good?” He hums, pecking your forehead affectionately.

“Mm, best reward ever,”

taglist: @sparklingocean @idkjustlovingbts @moonstar127 @babybella337 @ane102 @synnfulqt

#jungkook fluff #jungkook #jungkook au #jungkook ff #jungkook smut #jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #bts #bts ff #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jungkook x you #bts jungkook #boyfriend jungkook #jungkook angst #jungkook fanfic

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marvel-redemption-omega · 2 months

Text

Adam x Bratty!fem!reader

Reader is afab/female, explicitly used

Established relationship; you're Adam's wife

Summary: Y/n has started popping off to everyone lately, but mostly to Lute and Adam, which has caused a few scenes. Sera warned them to get their act together before she has to intervene. Adam thinks he knows just the thing to reel Y/n back in.

Minors DO NOT INTERACT! 18+ ONLY

Explicit content under the cut!

Warnings: Adam, lots of cursing, brief Dom!Lute, mentions of guitarspear if you squint, vague mentions of Lute x reader if you squint, Dom!Adam, Brat!reader, soft!Adam, BDSM/bondage, wing kink, thigh riding, edging, orgasm denial, slight praise kink?, you get used, idk what else you want me to say, there's some fluff in the midst; Adam fucks you senselessly into submission for being a brat, idk if there's more warnings. It's over 10k, I've lost track now.

Word count: 10,792

Make Me

(Not my gif, pulled from Google. If it's yours please lmk and I'll edit to credit!)

“The fuck you looking at, Saint Peter? Do I need to get Adam? Move,” you growl, shoving past the poor angel as you head towards the training grounds for the exterminators. Saint Peter looks after you, rubbing his wing where your own clipped his, sending a worried look after you before flying off to who knows where.

You slam open the doors, spreading your wings and launching yourself at the first exorcist you see. She is coming up to greet you, hand out for a handshake, when you grab it and fly up. Ignoring the startled scream from her, you try to keep steady as you twist, somersaulting a couple of times, and sling her towards a group of other exorcists headed right for you. They try to stop the one you sent flying at them, their wings tangling. You watch as they all plummet, hitting the ground with a harsh thud.

“Y/n!” Lute's voice has you turning to face your lieutenant. You smirk and bow your head slightly, wings twitching just the slightest as you hover and land before her.

“Lieutenant,” you grin, walking around her, wings partially folding behind you as you circle her. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your attention?” Sarcasm drips from your words. You rest your hands on your hips and watch as she turns with you, her eyes never leaving you.

“This isn't your normal behavior. What's gotten into you? Have you forgotten that we're all a team? We work together as one, and when you break that uniformity, it creates chaos,” Lute glares, voice cold as she approaches, her own wings stretching out. You know you're her subordinate, but you can't help taking the bait she's dropping. Her wings fully spread and you take the opportunity to taunt her.

“What's the matter? Don't like the fact I'm more brazen? I thought you said I needed to be more like you,” you snip, fully extending your wings as a show of defiance to her dominant display. Her eyes narrow and you both move quickly, flying towards each other. However, in your senseless agitation, you forget that Lute is your superior, in both ability and technicality. She easily gets the upper hand and wrestles you onto the ground, pinning your wings to your sides and you to the ground.

“You seem to be forgetting your place,” Lute warns, her tone sharp and hinting at something else you don't quite catch. The group of angels you sent in a heap arrive, all talking over one another to try and tell Lute what happened. She silences them with a look, not moving from atop her perch on you. “Hush! I saw what she did. Don't worry, Adam and I will be dealing with her,” she dismisses the group with a wave of her hand. Only once they're gone does she let you up, one hand gripping the base of one of your wings tightly, forcing you to back up to the side of the building as she extends her wings, making herself look bigger. You bite your tongue at the feel of her hand in your feathers, walking back until she has you pinned, your own wings shrinking and folding as best they can with a hand in the way.

“What now? You've got me alone? Why don't you just beat me and be done?” You snap, glaring at her boots. She steps into your space, forcing you to look at her. You press yourself back to the wall, irritation written on your face.

“You've got some nerve! You're lucky that you're one of the best I've trained. And you're even more lucky that Adam has a soft spot for you, otherwise I'd leave you broken on this fucking ground,” the lieutenant growls, twisting the hand she's got on your wing ever so slightly. Something crossed between a yelp and a moan escapes you as she pushes against you. “Since you think you can just barrel over anyone, you're going to be waking up extra early with me to do drills. We start tomorrow.” With that, she releases the hold on your wing, keeping hers flared behind her, before taking off. You hear her call for the ones training today. With a mocking snort, you take flight and leave the training grounds, deciding to be anywhere else but near Lute.

“Stupid Lute yelling at me. I didn't do anything. Why's she gotta take her anger out on me,” you grumble, landing back on the promenade. You know that's a lie, you're being a brat, but it's not your fault, you reason. You fold your wings, tucking them under your arms as a habit you adopted from Adam. “Fucking tell me I've gotta do early morning shit. Fuck her, she's not the boss of me,” you continue to rant to yourself, completely missing the golden winged angel. His eyes widen as he watches you storm by, none the wiser to his presence. He glowers before white wings cover his face, momentarily confusing him and turning him around.

“Whoa! Sera! I thought we agreed you wouldn't fucking sneak up on me again!” Adam says, looking up at the seraphim. She crosses her arms as she meets his eye.

“Adam, get your subordinate back in line. She is being rude to the other angels and if this behavior of hers continues, I will be forced to intervene. Saint Peter is not the first to have a complaint with Y/n and her behavior,” Sera warns, watching as Adam turns to watch you. Sure enough, you're shoving others aside, using your wings to try and create more space around you as you walk.

“Yeah yeah! I'll go get her! No need to jump down my throat, that's my job!” Adam dismisses Sera, crouching lightly as he spreads his wings. Sera grabs his wrist, stopping him.

“I'm serious, Adam. Reign Y/n back in or I will have to pull her from the extermination team and move her elsewhere. And if she doesn't calm down there, well, let's not let it get that far,” Sera releases him, turning to greet Emily who is flying up with two ice cream cones. Adam, unfortunately, loses sight of you in the time Sera is talking to him. He groans and heads to find Lute.

Lute is sparring with five exorcists at once, pointing out their flaws as she takes each one down. Adam, not particularly keen on getting a sprained wing again, waits out of the way until she notices him and dismisses them to work without her.

“Sir?” his lieutenant questions, wings folding behind her as she walks up to him.

“Have you seen Y/n? Sera's bitching ‘bout her. Something ‘bout she's being mean or some fucking shit. I wasn't really paying attention,” he admits, shrugging as they walk back out the training facility. Lute smirks at his typical behavior.

“Yeah. She came here earlier and assaulted some of the others. Sera is right though. Y/n was deliberately being disobedient,” she reluctantly agrees with the seraphim about you. To be fair, normally you'd go straight to Lute for a good, challenging spar, so to go after some of the younger and less experienced exorcists was a dick move on your part. Adam sighs and groans, glancing down at his lieutenant.

“Hey, Lute~”

“No.”

“What the hell, you don't even know what I was gonna fucking ask!”

“I know you. I don't need to know what you were going to ask.” Adam just stares at her for a moment, his mask switching to a deadpan expression. It quickly switches back to his usual, cocky smirk.

“Oh yeah? If you're so smart, what was it along the lines of then, Dangertits?”

“You were thinking of having me deal with Y/n instead of you, Sir.”

“Don't say it with such confidence. Bitch,” he throws in the last word as an afterthought, realizing she pegged him pretty well. She stopped and turned to face him, brow raised in question.

“So am I wrong?”

“Shut up. No. Let's just fucking go,” he grumbles, spreading his wings and flapping twice to get into the air. Lute smirks and follows silently. She might be his subordinate, but they both know she's right more often than not.

They finally find you at the local barbecue pit, in the reserved section. Reserved for him, Lute, and you. Lute looks up at Adam, wings folding behind her as she waits for his orders. “C'mon, Dangertits,” he mutters, making his way to you. You don't bother looking up when you're sandwiched between two bodies. The familiar touching of wings against yours immediately tells you it's Adam and Lute. You flip them off and continue eating your plate of ribs.

“Umm excuse the fuck outta you, Sugartits. You have some damn nerve acting like you're so fucking high and mighty all of a sudden. The fuck's got your panties in a twist?” Adam reaches over you and takes a rib, expertly dodging the fork you try to stab him with. Lute remains quiet, eyeing you as you glare at Adam, dropping the fork.

“None of your fucking business. And get your own damn plate of ribs, asshole,” you bite out, wings shifting in annoyance. Adam grins and reaches for another rib, holding your gaze while he does so.

“Fucking make me,” he retorts, grabbing the rib you start to reach for. Your eyes narrow, wings fluffing up fully behind you.

“You fucking absolute prick. What the hell is wrong with you?! I said to leave me the fuck alone. I was eating alone just fine until you two showed up,” you yell, drawing unwanted attention and eyes towards the three of you. You let your wings lift you from between your superiors, glaring down at them. “Stop fucking following me!” You leave the duo with your half eaten plate as well as the bill, hands clenched at your sides as you fly out the doors.

Emily finds you on a cloud, well away from everyone. She flies into your vision, giving you a warm smile. You can't help but return it. No matter how mad you were, Emily always seemed to make you want to smile and try to be happy for her sake. She was like a little sister to you after all. You gesture to another cloud beside the one you're on, letting your wings fluff out in contentment. Emily accepts your silent invitation. Heaven's sun warms your wings as you sit in peaceful silence with the young seraphim. It doesn't last long though. You feel Emily's eyes on you and you know she has something she wants to say.

“Everyone's worried about you, you know. Sera's worried that you're going to fall. Adam and Lute….they're worried something is wrong. Something like you don't want to be here, in Heaven, anymore. Saint Peter also said to let you know he wants to see you when you get the chance,” the seraphim rambles, one of her hands finding yours. You allow her to link your fingers, listening to her. Yeah, you have been a little shit lately, you know that. There was only one person who could help and he was still as clueless as ever. Adam. Well, that's not true. Lute could most definitely help too, you just preferred if it were Adam.

“I promise I'm fine, Em. You can tell Sera that I'll be okay. I'm just….going through something,” you grin, swinging your joined hands. “But, for you, I'll try and not cause any more trouble.” You mean every word. You don't want to give Sera a reason to cast you out. You actually like it here in Heaven. Hell, you even like your misogynistic, egotistical, dumbass husband. Why, you don't know, but there's just something about him that draws you in and keeps you coming back for more. He'd definitely say it was because he's the Original Dick.

“Eee! I know she'll be happy to hear that! I'm gonna go tell her you're okay! Okay? Bye!” Emily lurches forward to give you a hug before racing off to find her older sister. You let out a chuckle at the young seraphim's antics. For someone at least a millennia old, she still had a childish air about her. It was refreshing, a nice change of pace from her older sister, Sera.

Your peaceful mood doesn't last too long. You remember Lute telling you that you have to be up early for extra training due to your outburst earlier. Honestly, you know you can't blame anyone but yourself, but that doesn't mean that you like it. With a defeated sigh, you make your way back to your house.

You slam the door to your home, grumbling and cursing Lute and several other angels. In your anger, you completely miss two angels in your kitchen. Adam and Lute watch you pace in your living room, wings fluttering about. They have a silent conversation before Adam's smiling and Lute is trying her best not to, shaking her head. Finally, the light from your kitchen catches your eye.

“What the hell? I can't go out without running into you and now I can't even be in my own fucking place?!” You groan, feathers floating around you as your wings puff up in your annoyance. Adam smirks, lacing his fingers and folding his hands, resting his chin on them as he watches you.

“Babes, this is our house, not just yours,” he corrects you without hesitation, watching as you shake your feathers and fold your wings. Lute watches you both, only here to act as the middleman if needed to separate a fight. You turn your back to them and head back to the couch, falling face first onto it.

“Fuck off. I'm so sick of seeing your ugly mug,” you snarl, head turned to the side so they can hear you. Adam turns to Lute, nodding to the door. She gives him a look, but he shoos her as he gets up, making his way to you.

“Adam, I don't think-”

“Lute, just go. I can fucking handle this. I think I know just the fucking thing to correct her attitude,” a grin appears on Adam's mask, a ripple running through his wings as he pushes his chair back. You fluff your wings, letting them sprawl, one hanging off the back of the couch and the other dangling on the floor. Lute doesn't offer any further complaints, just opens the door and gives him a look before shutting it behind her.

“Go away, Adam,” you huff, feeling his presence hovering over you. You crack an eye open to see his face inches from your own, mask discarded somewhere. You yelp in surprise at the proximity, your wings flapping frantically to help you pull back and away from him. His grin widens as he slowly stalks towards you, his golden wings unfurling and shaking out behind him.

“You've been rather busy the last couple weeks huh? Been fucking with me and Lute and raising hell up here. Care to enlighten me as to why?” His gold eyes narrow as you search for a way around Adam or out of reach of him and his wings. You know he will use his wings to pull you close if you get too close.

“N-no. I haven't,” you lie poorly, slowly crawling backwards on the couch, and off the far side over the arm. You both stare at each other as your feet land on the cool hardwood flooring. A subtle flutter of his wings has you turning and darting down the hall, wings helping as you try to keep out of Adam's reach, hoping to get to the bedroom before he reaches you.

“You're such a shit liar,” he snorts at you, catching up to you quickly. You don't stop to see how close he is, you don't need to. You can feel his feathers brush against yours just before they fully envelope you.

“Adam!” You squeak out as his arms wrap you in a tight hug, face burying in the crook of your neck. Trying to steel your resolve and not break from such a small interaction, you use your wings to push against his, earning a chuckle from him.

“S'matter, Babe~? Need something?” His sharp teeth nip at your neck and it takes all of your willpower to not cave and moan at the sensation. The feel of his chin stubble combined with his teeth make your knees weak. Thankfully you have wings that help keep you balanced.

“Not from you,” you manage to scoff, still trying to get out of his grip, though your attempts are more feeble with each bite to your shoulders. In the small power scuffle, Adam has managed to walk you to your bedroom, nudging the door open fully with his wing.

“Mm, don't fucking be like that. I came all the way here from work just to help you,” he growls in your ear, voice dropping as he talks. You pause in your escape attempts, a chill running up your spine and through your wings. Adam doesn't miss the shaking of your feathers at his words, gold eyes glinting in the setting light filtering in through the window. He quickly takes advantage of your lack of fight, easily hefting you into his arms bridal style, letting your wings free of his hold. You blink up at him, arms instinctively going around his neck.

“Bullshit. Your head is too far up your own ass to care about me,” you sneer at him, grabbing his collar and pulling it tight so it comes close to choking him. He grins and leans his face closer to you, nuzzling his forehead against yours.

“I'm gonna make you eat your fucking words, Babe,” he mutters. He tosses you onto the bed after breaking your hold on his collar. His wings stay spread, displaying his dominance to and over you.

You turn to him, on your knees, and spread your own wings in defiance. You grin smugly at him, crossing your arms as he makes no moves to change your mind. When he does move, you don't see him. He turns you around faster than you expect. It's easy to pin you, and when he moves to grab something from under the bed, he keeps you down with his wings. You struggle under him until you feel cold metal on your wings. A gasp escapes you as Adam moves to secure your wings so they stay flared out, the metal frame locking as he puts the spines of your wings into each arm. You try to pull away, only for the metal brace to force them to stay.

“A-Adam!” You whine, realizing what kind of hole you dug for yourself. He ignores you, making sure your wings are secure before rolling you onto your back.

“You want to show disrespect to your superiors? Don't worry, I'm going to remind you of your place,” he chuckles, moving to grab something from the nightstand.

You whimper. You know you're fucked. You pushed your luck, especially with Adam, and went overboard with your bratty attitude. But fuck if this isn't what you wanted. Adam had been ignoring you after all. He was always ‘too busy’ with work. Maybe you were jealous of the time he spent with Lute, not like you should be, you knew their relationship, but it did bug you sometimes. Especially when you're his wife. You're aware and more than ok with the swing style relationship you both share with Lute. It was something you accepted readily when you met her after a date with Adam. There was hardly ever one without the other, no matter which way you looked at it.

“You're going to be begging me to stop before I'm through with you. I'm going to make sure you don't forget where you belong for a long time,” Adam's voice brings you back to the present. You look up at him, not daring to move from where he rolled you. He's sitting beside you, hand on one of your knees, hiding something in his other hand. You prop yourself up on your elbows, meeting his gaze.

“Big talk coming from someone who's locked up my wings. What's the matter, Dickmaster? Can't put me in my place with my wings in the way?” You taunt, though there's no real bite to your words anymore. You know you're at his mercy now, but you still can't help yourself since he hasn't touched you aside from the love bites he gave you on the way to the bedroom. You watch as his hand freezes the small thumb circling on your knee. His head tilts and he pulls out a massage wand, twirling it a couple of times.

“Sounds like you need more than just this. On my knee, now!” He orders, setting the massager on the floor for now. You raise a brow at him and bat your lashes at him.

“Make. Me.”

A feral noise escapes your husband. You're dragged into his lap and stripped of your boots and pants with a snap of his fingers. His robe is also discarded from his snap, leaving him in dark jeans and a band tee shirt. Your wings try to move, but the bar keeps them locked in place. The most you're able to do is shift the feathers slightly.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

The sting from Adam's hand connecting with your ass pulls a startled yelp from you. Your body shivers and goosebumps appear on your arms and legs. You try to kick and get out of his lap, but his hold on you tightens.

“Want to try that again, Bitch?”

“Y-yes… Make me, Dickmaster.”

Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!

You try to stifle your moan by biting your fist, not wanting to give him the satisfaction just yet. You hear him tsk and see his shadow shaking his head at you.

“Nu-uh, that's not a good little bitch. What do we say?” He teases, grabbing your free hand and clicking something around it. You recognize the feel of the metal cuffs, even if it's been a few months since they've been used. He grabs the hand you're biting, and you willingly let him pull it above your head. He holds your hand there, your other being held in place by the chain connecting the cuffs.

“Fuck.”

“Getting warmer,” he chuckles, shifting so you're sitting on his lap. “You're going to ride my thigh until you tell me, but if you cum before I say so, I'll make sure you don't get to cum for the rest of the night. Understand, Bitch?” Your heartbeat feels like it's in your ears as you nod your head, wiggling your free hand to grab his shoulder. He lets you readjust yourself, the hand holding the empty cuff taps your free hand. “Gimme.” You immediately move your hand to his, letting him fix the cuff and click it around your wrist. He moves your hands so your arms are locked around his neck, hands resting on his shoulders with the lengthy chain. His own hands roam your body, pausing at your chest to grope your breasts through your top, one continuing south to rest on your hip after he gropes your ass. “Move,” he commands.

You tense slightly before realizing what he means. You lean forward, burying your face in his neck as you begin slowly grinding on his thigh. Still feeling a bit bratty, not having your fire extinguished just yet, you gently nip at Adam's neck before biting down hard at the junction between his collarbone and neck.

“Fuck!”

You smile as best you can with your teeth clamped against his neck, sucking on the skin until you're sure it's bruising. You feel Adam's wings curl around you, radiating warmth. Your wings block his from fully enveloping you, but you feel the warmth in your wings where they touch his own. Feeling proud about your mission to mark your husband, you let go of his neck with a loud pop. Adam's hands grip your hips tightly, fingers digging into your skin as he forces you to move faster on his thigh.

“You have some damn nerve being such a brat, yanno that?” He doesn't give you time to answer. He's sucking and biting a trail of hickeys along both sides of your neck, to hell with what anyone says. Once satisfied with the number he's left on you, he lets your hips go, hands trailing up your back to your wings. Your breath hitches as his hands curl tightly into the small feathers closest to your back. “Gonna have to show you where you belong. Make you understand just what happens to a brat who doesn't behave.”

“Sounds fun,” you breathe, leaning your head on your arm to look up at him, grin on your face as your halo shifts to right itself. He tilts his head down at you, gold eyes alight with something you can't quite pinpoint.

“Always gotta have the last damn word, don't cha?” He grunts, grabbing the chain connecting the cuffs and yanking it over the back of his head, holding it above him to pull you close. He drops the chain as his hand moves to grip the back of your neck, tangling in the hair there. You open your mouth to say something else smart, but he quickly covers your mouth with his own, silencing you before you can get anything out. You try to refuse when he licks your lips in an attempt to get you to open your mouth to him. He growls and tugs the hand in your hair, earning a moan from you and giving him access. He massages your wings as you kiss, only pulling away when you gently tap his shoulder, your signal you need air.

You can't process anything. From Adam's hand in your feathers, you riding his thigh, and that kiss? You feel a bit tipsy. Wanting to keep riding the high that is Adam, you lean back in for another kiss, your hands finding their way into his hair. Sensing your keen interest, he obliges you as you pull him down for another sloppy kiss, teeth clacking and tongues dancing.

“Adam, please… Don't want to ride your thigh,” you manage to squeak out, head resting on his shoulders, hands gripping his hair tightly as you grind down on his thigh.

“What's that? You don't want to?” He repeats, letting his hand untangle from your hair and trail up and down your back. He grins, and you swear his face matches his mask. “Too bad. Brats don't get what they want,” he answers, gripping your hip to keep you moving. He rocks his leg, shifting it with you so it hits just right, causing you to squirm. You whine and try to pull away with no fire in your heart, stopped by his grip, wings, and the handcuff chain. You can feel how excited he is, but you know he'd hold off just to prove a point. With another whine, you push your forehead into his collarbone. He doesn't want me to cum but wants me to ride his thigh? Fine, I'll at least follow one rule, you think, gripping his shoulders to pick up your pace on his thigh. If he wants you to ride his thigh, fine, you can do that, but you're doing it on your terms, not his. “Whoa. Ok, Sugartits, now we're talking,” Adam murmurs above you. You try to ignore him, ignore the feel of his hands on you. You don't care about him right now. He's been so mean to you! He's been too busy for you. Fuck him! You're gonna use him. Yes, you love him, but fuck him, literally and figuratively.

So focused on your own pleasure, you don't hear Adam calling for you. You're shaking your head, ears filled with the sound of your own panting. You feel the way Adam moves his leg under you, the way your wings tug against the warming metal brace, the warmth of Adam and his wings, the way you're moving in and out of sync with Adam's leg, it makes your brain fuzzy. A whine is pulled from your lips as you feel that familiar spring coiling tightly in your stomach. When did it coil like that? Surely you're not already about to come undone? Your fingers dig into his shoulders and you bite on his shoulder as your body shakes slightly uncontrollably as you reach your orgasm. You feel a rumble from Adam's chest, his hands tightening harshly on your hips as he works you through your bliss, slowing you down as your body settles from the aftershocks of your release.

“Still disobedient, I see,” you hear his voice and give a faint nod as you release his neck. You smirk at the mark before leaning back to meet his eye, eyes half lidded in ecstasy.

“Fuck you,” you manage to grumble, using the chain against the back of his neck to pull him closer. He chuckles, denying you the kiss you desperately want, he holds you still on his lap, wings unfurling from around you both and folding to his sides. The cool air sends a shiver up your spine, the chill creeping over your bare lower half. You glare then pout at him as he laughs at your expression, hands running over your legs to bring some heat back.

“I told you already, brats don't get what they want,” he reiterates, bringing one hand down hard on your rear end, making you jump. He smiles mischievously and snaps, eyeing your now nude body on display for him, your wings still held firm in their restraint, giving him a complete view of you. You whine and rock against his leg, your first orgasm barely scratching the surface of your need. “Ah ah ah,” he chides, lifting you just enough to prevent you from achieving the friction you just tried to make. He holds you like it's effortless, and honestly, for him it probably is. Man's like eight feet tall, if not more. You whimper, leaning your forehead into his neck at the loss of all contact except where he's holding your thighs. Your hands pull together and you realize Adam is pulling the chain over his head so you aren't locking him in place.

“On your hands and knees.” You're deposited on the bed, the remaining warmth leaving you as Adam shuffles off the bed and waits for you, gold eyes glowing in the dark. You shift your weight, grumbling, until you're on your hands and knees as ordered. “You know better. Arch your back.”

The sound of buzzing piques your interest enough to listen, turning your head so your left ear is pressed to the soft sheets on the mattress. You feel your feathers ripple and a few smaller ones fall as they poof up against your will. Heat creeps up your face and you quickly bury it against the sheets with a groan. Adam's chuckle is faint, but you hear it as he shuffles around behind you. The bed dips under his weight, forcing you to shift and recover your position for any sliver of hope that he won't keep his word of denying you more orgasms.

“Aww s'matter, Babes? Embarrassed your wings are giving away how aroused you really are? Afraid I'm going to do exactly as I said?” His voice drops lower as he leans over you. You feel his scruff on the back of your neck, his breath hot as he places a few sloppy kisses there. You can't help the moan that slips, and he doesn't miss that you ball your hands into the sheets either. He shifts again and you yelp, the vibration setting not what you were expecting as he holds the massage wand to your inner thigh.

“Fuck,” you bite the sheets to try and mute yourself, still not wanting to give Adam the satisfaction of hearing your voice. He tuts, moving the massage wand closer where you want it.

“Hold this,” he mutters. He smacks your hand away and gives you a knowing look. “Not with your hands.” You roll your head to the side, pulling your shoulders closer as you shift to bring your arms back under you.

“You can't be serious, Adam!” You whine, glancing over your shoulder where he's patiently waiting for you to take the wand. His grin never wavers as you lock eyes, gold piercing through you. “Fuck, Adam, please!” You attempt to bargain, hands clawing at the bed when he shakes his head no. Your resolve is slowly breaking at his slow torture. You'd prefer his break-neck pace instead at this point. When he doesn't budge, you curse him out, eyes never leaving his own as you move your thighs together to hold the wand where he wants you to.

“Good girl,” he praises as he moves from the bed, humming to himself. You try to watch him to the best of your ability, but lose sight of him when he moves to your shared closet. You can hear him pushing clothes aside until he lets out an excited ‘aha’. You can only imagine what he found, considering that's where you kept the more sinful sex toys and equipment. The familiar feeling of leather being wrapped about your ankle startles you from your momentary bliss of the wand. You hum as you feel Adam's fingers easily pulling the restraint tight. He slips a finger between your ankle and the leather. “Too tight?” The question makes you shake your head. “Can't hear you, Angel,” he teases, looking over the curve of your ass, down your lovely arched back.

“No, not too tight,” you bite out, legs slightly numb from the high intensity of the toy he demanded you hold. You jump and let out a small yelp as his hand makes contact with your rear. You quickly squeeze your thighs back together to keep the massager from falling, knowing that would earn you more discipline. Without another word, he's moving to get the second leather brace around your other ankle. Now knowing what he's doing, you quickly answer when he asks if the second is too tight. Once you agree that you're ok and the leather is really not too tight, he nudges your knees apart, clicking a small metal rod onto both ankle braces. The wand lands on the bed with a soft thump.

“On your knees,” he orders. He grabs the wand and turns it off for the moment, setting it on the side of the bed. You push up onto your forearms before using them to propel yourself fully upright to your knees. A soft gasp escapes you as Adam wraps his hand around the front of your throat. You never felt him crawl onto the bed behind you, but you feel his warm chest and stomach pressing against your back, feel his breath against your neck. You try to swallow and calm yourself of the anticipation. He trails kisses from behind your ear down to your shoulders, his hand staying firmly around your neck, holding you against him. The cold clasp of metal doesn't startle you this time, but it does send a warmth spreading through your chest and to your core like wildfire. You feel Adam loop the leather band through the clasp, pulling the collar to rest snug against your throat. He checks once, twice, three times with his finger that the collar isn't choking you before turning you in his arms, maneuvering you so you can see him.

“Safeword?”

“Oh, uhh…kumquat!” You snicker as his grin falters at your words before returning as he throws his head back, howling with laughter. He nods, wiping a nonexistent tear away from his eye.

“Perfect. If I cross a line, you say cumquat, and I'll stop, understand?” You giggle a bit at his words, but nod along so he knows you understand. He fingers the d-ring on the collar before using it to pull you close to him. “I couldn't hear you, Pet, what was that?”

“Yessir!” You squeak, a bit baffled by the new nickname. He licks his lips, nodding and muttering something you don't quite catch. He doesn't give you an opportunity to ask what he plans to do before he kisses you roughly, forcing his tongue into your mouth. Not like you're complaining. You try to move with him, but he has you stuck with your collar, his fingers still tangled in the ring on the front. You groan against him as he presses his lips harshly to your own. He nips at your bottom lip as he pulls away, panting slightly. You notice his hair is tousled more than usual.

While you're busy staring, you don't notice him undoing your handcuffs. He rubs the indents on your wrists before bringing them to his lips, leaving small kisses. Your heartbeat quickens slightly at the sight, loving Adam's sweet tendencies, you don't even know if he's aware of them. He drops your hands and meets your gaze, his eyes narrowing at you. You shy away slightly and drop your eyes to anywhere but his face, choosing the bed by his knee to be particularly interesting as heat floods your face.

“C'mere. Lay on your back and hang your head over the edge of the bed here. You're going to be a good little bitch and suck Daddy's cock,” he croons to you, one hand cradling your cheek. Your eyes widen a bit at his bold claim, but you nod along, nipping at his hand when he pulls it away. He quirks a brow but you just shrug and do as he told you, doing your best with both your legs and wings restrained. Once situated as comfortably as you can, you tip your head back to look at the shadow looming over you. He's got the wand in his hand again and you hum, hands reaching for Adam's clothed length. He's still in his shirt and jeans, so you tug at the belt loops, looking up at him expectantly. He rolls his eyes playfully and snaps, leaving himself bare to you. You, maybe a bit too eagerly, reach out for him, grabbing the back of his thighs and tugging him towards you. You hear his laughter, but you try to tune him out, desperate to start on him in hopes that he'd return the favor with his hands or the magic wand he has.

“Can I touch you?” You ask as he stands above you. The low glow from his wings and halo give you a small glimpse of his expression, a hesitant pause as he thinks over his words.

“Yes, I'll allow you to touch me. But, if you take your hands off me, there'll be consequences,” he grants you permission. You hum with a small smile, one hand going to the back of one of his thighs while the other grips his length. You give him a couple of strokes before opening your mouth and gently tugging his thigh to urge him forward. He doesn't need you to tell him twice, and moves so his shins hit the bed while you move to make sure you can take as much of his cock as possible.

The angle is a bit awkward for you, but you make the best of your situation as you feel Adam move and hear curses ring out. You hollow your cheeks, allowing him to fit farther down your throat as he pumps his hips. You hum, swirling your tongue around him, the metal barbell on your tongue adding a cooling sensation to Adam's heat. He groans at the feeling of it, dropping above you so he's leaning on his elbows on either side of you. You reach up to mess with his feathers, your other hand moving to fondle his balls. He curses and moans as you bob your head in sync with his movements. You let your hand fall from his sack, moving it to join in his wings. You bring your knees up and dig your heels into the bed, shifting yourself closer to the edge. Your gag reflex reacts at the sudden change, your throat constricting around Adam's cock, but you force yourself to choke through it, keeping yourself from gagging again.

“Ahh-fuck!” He curses, hips stuttering before he pushes himself up, pulling out of your mouth. “Up, on your front.” You whine as you're forced to let his wings go, but quickly do as he says, mimicking your first position with your back arched. He fists your hair, pulling you back to him. You lick your lips as he watches you take him back into your mouth. He grunts at the feel of your tongue running over him before he sets a brutish pace, hand so tightly wound in your hair you feel the subtle oncoming of a headache. You reach up and rest a hand on his hip for stability, the other going back to the base of his wings. You relax your throat and jaw as best you can, tears pricking your eyes and drool dripping down your face.

You squeeze your eyes shut tight when you feel a gentle vibration at your core. Adam has the wand pressed to you on a low setting, his other hand firmly locked in your hair. He runs the toy along your folds, resting it on your clit before circling it a few times. You moan around him when you feel him up the setting, circling the toy again. You try to lean back into it, but a tug on your hair makes you stop and turn your gaze up to look at Adam. He's got his head tipped back, mouth slightly open as he pistons his hips, roughly slamming his cock down your throat. You whine as you feel the wand turn off, before hearing it hit the floor. Adam's nowhere near close, but the way you're whining around him does make his dick twitch. You lurch forward, choking slightly, as he inserts a finger into you. You try to rock back into his hand in time with his hips, earning a hum of approval from your husband. He slips in a second finger, twisting and curling them as you rock between his hand and his own rhythm. The coil from earlier winds faster now, having already had one orgasm spurs on a second more quickly. As you start to move out of sync with him, hellbent on chasing your own release again, he withdraws his hand from you. He smirks at your pathetic whine against him, sticking his fingers in his mouth, sucking on them, never letting pausing or slowing in fucking your face.

“Fuck. Taste so good, Sugartits,” he praises, watching you squirm under his gaze. You narrow your eyes at him, tugging on his feathers. His body jerks and he groans as his hips falter in their pace, before stopping. You feel his release hit the back of your throat and you swallow, running your tongue along the underside of his shaft, pulling off of him with a grin.

“Mm, right back at ya, Dickmaster,” you antagonize, sitting up on your knees to get closer to him. He growls, his smile twisting into a sneer.

“You just don't fucking learn, do you, Brat?” He yanks you to your feet by your hair, preening at the yelp he pulls from you. “That's ok. We have all fucking night and you're going to be fucking wrecked by the time I'm done with you.” You instinctively let go of his wing and hip as he pulls you into his chest, eyes holding you in place. You give him a lopsided grin as you pull your hands up to his chest, pressing your fingers into his skin.

“Of course not. It's gonna take more than a little bit to make up for ignoring me all month,” you snip back at him. He lets go of your hair and grips your cheeks between his fingers, squeezing lightly. You just smile as he holds your face close to his, his other snaking between you two to stroke his already half hard cock.

“Hmm. I'll have you in tears in a matter of minutes,” he finally replies, releasing your cheeks, and pressing a kiss to the side of your mouth. You pout slightly but quickly try to hide it from him. You might have gotten lucky for back talking so far, but you knew you were going to eventually run out of luck if you hadn't already. Adam snaps, pointing to the bed. “On your back, now.” You scrunch your nose at his odd request, unable to read his expression. It takes some maneuvering as your ankles are still in the spreader bar and your wings are still in their own spreader arms, that Adam notices how difficult of a time you're having. He taps your hip, motioning for you to stop. You do so, watching him intently as he removes the bar holding your legs apart. He steps back once he's got it undone, allowing you to move freely. You murmur a soft thank you to him, a hand on his shoulder as you lower yourself onto your back much easier now. He pulls you closer to the edge of the bed once you're settled, making you lift your head at him. He doesn't acknowledge you, simply replaces the bar and uses it to lift your legs over his head as he kneels at the foot of the bed.

Your face flushes as you realize Adam is about to eat you out, a rarity from him for sure. He flashes you a grin before kissing up your legs to your thighs. He nips and kisses your inner thigh before biting harshly. You let out a small whine, reacting to the pain by trying to yank your leg back. Of course the bar and Adam stop you from getting anywhere, and your leg twitches while you whimper, balling the sheet into your fists at your sides. Your muscle shakes, pain and ecstasy flooding you, quickly turning you into a panting mess. Adam presses a kiss to the bruise he's left, moving to your other thigh to leave a matching mark there. Your toes curl as his teeth sink into your flesh, a long whine pulled from you as your muscle tenses before relaxing under Adam's tongue.

“Adam, please! Don't tease,” you cry, reaching down to bury your fingers in his messy hair. He hums as he nips at your thigh, sucking another, smaller hickey.

“Don't tell me what to do,” he rumbles, breath tickling your leg. You can't help the small laugh that finds its way out as he hovers over your mound, staring at you intently. How can he be so calm right now, you think.

You lift your head, breath hitching as you watch as your husband slowly licks straight up your folds, never breaking eye contact. You feel your face heat up, and you drop your head back onto the bed, tugging gently on his hair. He lets out a chuckle, nuzzling your thighs before pulling you closer, arms wrapped under your thighs and on your back. He laps at you slowly, humming in contentment as you squirm under him, trying to grind down on his face. He dips his tongue inside, finally, and you arch your back, chancing a glance down at him again. His eyes are closed as he draws random patterns with his tongue. After a few minutes, he pulls back, sucking your clit into his mouth. You suck in a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he hums against you, the vibrations sending a shiver up your spine.

He wiggles one hand out from under you, snapping his fingers. The spreader bar, keeping your legs apart, disappears, and you feel his wings gently move your legs out to rest over his shoulders. You stretch one leg out, hooking the other around his neck. He presses a kiss to one of your hickeys, looking up at you. He covers your clit again, sucking harshly as he slips a finger in you, moving it slowly. A gasp leaves you, feeling your stomach tighten at the sudden intrusion. He wastes no time in adding a second finger, pumping and twisting them at just the right angle to make you squeak out his name. He slows his ministrations as he feels your pussy clench around his fingers. He picks up speed again before slowing down, repeating the cycle each time you squeeze his fingers.

“Adam, please, I'm so close,” you pant, hands loose in his hair. You gently stroke through the messy brown strands, eyes shut tight as you try to hold onto the edge of bliss.

His eyes glint with mirth and mischief. He pulls away fully, smiling softly at your cry of protest. “I know I said earlier that if you came before I told you, you wouldn't get to the rest of the night…but now, I'm thinking that was a bit harsh.” There's something in the way he says it that makes you not believe him. You don't know why, and you quirk your brow up at him in silent question, moving your stretched leg to cross the other so you lock Adam in place. He definitely just edged you, you've been on the receiving end of that trick one too many times, but something is different. He's up to something. “So, how about I let you cum,” he starts and you nod quickly, squirming to try and grind on him. He laughs and holds your hips down with practiced ease. His wings lightly trail on either side of your face, down your neck, to your hips softly. “You want to cum for me, Babe?” He asks, dipping his head to lick you teasingly. You don't answer, your brain fuzzy at what he's just offered you. When he nips at your stomach do you snap your eyes to his, nodding in response. “Can't hear you, Sweets.”

“Fuck me… God, yes! Adam, please, please, let me cum,” you beg, using your legs to pull your husband closer to where you want him. His eyes narrow, tongue delving back into your folds. He swirls his tongue, constantly changing his rhythm, licking, nipping, sucking, and lapping at you fervently. You squeeze your thighs, pulling Adam closer as a result. “Adam, please, please, please!” You beg, tears threatening to spill as you feel your stomach contract as you're brought closer and closer to your second orgasm of the night.

“That's right, Sugartits. Cum for me. Cum on Dickmaster's tongue,” Adam praises, watching you as he turns his focus back to sucking on your clit, slipping two fingers in and curling them. With a shout of his name, you feel a wave of bliss wash over you. Adam hums as he works you through your release, your legs squeezing his head with the aftershocks. Your gaze snaps down to his, eyes wide in realization. He's not had a change of heart, he's just twisting what he said before. You feel your stomach drop as he pulls back a little, giving your slightly over-stimulated clit a break. His tongue darts out, licking his chin. His smug grin tells you he's about to say something smart, like usual. “Damn, Babe, if I'd known all it would take to rile you up and make you this wet for me is to ignore you, I'd have done it sooner.” You want to hate him and his stupidly perfect face, but dammit if he isn't your idiot. You try to glare at him, but your heartbeat and panting leaves little room for anything other than flustered to show.

“Fuck you, Adam,” you manage to grumble, leaning your head back into the sheets, massaging his scalp. Honestly, you don't know which is the worse of two evils; being edged all night or being over-stimulated to the point of tears.

“In a bit, Babes,” he replies, scissoring his fingers in an attempt to bring you back to the edge. “Be a good girl and keep cuming for me.” He snaps with his free hand, watching as a sash ties your wrists together with a bow knot. You roll your eyes at him, shaking your head at his silly antics.

You've lost count how many orgasms Adam has pulled from you now. All you know is if he keeps the wand on you, you're not going to last much longer. You tug at the satin sashes holding your wrists together above your head, whining as you feel another orgasm wash over you. Your nose burns as the threat of tears forms behind your closed eyelids. “Adam,” your voice is hoarse as you call out to your husband, eyes opening to find him hovering above you, wand nowhere in sight. As a matter of fact, you don't even hear it anymore.

“Shh,” Adam cooes to you, pulling one of the loose ends of the sash, untying the bow and releasing your wrists from their binds. “Think you can do something for me? I know you've already done so much, been such a good girl,” he praises, pressing light kisses along your jaw. You whimper, not trusting yourself to speak just yet. You feel him shift above you, his wings curling around you both as he fists his cock. “Think you can take one more orgasm, Sweets?” He murmurs against your neck, rubbing the head of himself against your folds. You whine, tilting your head to give him more access.

“I-I don't know. ‘M sore,” you whisper back, letting one hand rest on his shoulder. Instinctively you intertwine your fingers with his as he moves his free hand to your own.

“Come on, just one more, Pretty Girl? One more for me?” He urges, gently squeezing your hand. When you squeeze his hand in reply, he quickly sinks down until your hips meet. You shift your hips, nearly purring with the stretch of him.

“Fuck, feel so full, so good, Dickmaster,” you return the praise, turning your head to look at your husband. His face flushes lightly and he glances away, a quiet ‘shut up’ coming from him. You smile at his reaction, moving your hand from his shoulder to his cheek, cradling it gently. He turns his head to press a soft kiss to your wrist, nuzzling your hand. “I love you, Adam, but for fuck's sake, please fucking move,” you groan, bucking your hips up into him. He chuckles at your renewed enthusiasm and pushes your intertwined hands into the mattress as he shifts his weight so he's evenly over you.

He obliges your demand, slowly pulling out before sinking fully back into you, finding a slow, methodical rhythm. You sigh in contentment as you roll your hips in time to meet his, a shudder running down your spine as he fills you over and over again. It's such a drastic change from the intensity of the last couple of hours. Adam's shift from Dominant to soft-Dominant is so fast that you swear you should have whiplash. His wings brush against your shoulders, your wings, your sides, and they're so warm! You shiver in pleasure under Adam, throwing yourself off rhythm. You feel his chest rumble with laughter as you try to match his pace again, eyes closed, brows knit in focus. You gasp when he angles just right, hitting deeper in you. You grip his hand tightly, moving the other to his shoulder again in an attempt to pull him closer.

“Shh. There's my good girl. Do you feel good? Like when I hit right there,” he emphasizes his words with a particular hard thrust, hitting your g-spot. You yelp, bucking against him as a result. “Yeah? There?” He slips his wings under you, leaning back and pulling you with him as he sits up. He takes care not to shift too much, keeping himself buried in you as he adjusts you in his lap. He gently pulls his hand out of your grasp, moving to hold your hips as he helps support you, helping rock you back and forth on him. You wrap your arms around him, burying your face in the crook of his neck while you bounce on him. You feel his hands under your thighs, lightly cupping your ass as he helps hold your weight when your legs start to give out. “Can my baby girl give me one more? Think you got one more for me?” He whispers into your hair, leaning his head against yours, bucking up into you as you still, leg muscles too abused to continue your movements. You nod against him, panting as you try to focus on the feeling of him; his smell, his warmth, his familiarity, it all invades your senses and fills you with peace.

Adam holds you steady in his lap as he starts to quicken his pace, losing his rhythm from before. He slips one hand between you both, thumb quickly finding your clit again. You shudder and cry at how sensitive you are, shaking your head against his neck, babbling nonsense. He mumbles soft reassurances in your ear, pulling you down as he thrusts up.

“C'mon, Sugar, cum for Dickmaster. Cum on the Original Dick,” he mutters, pressing a kiss to your temple, fingers digging into your skin. You whimper as Adam hits your g-spot as he talks, giving you that final push over the edge. You cling to him, legs shaking as your body tries to calm while he's still pistoning into you. You feel his other hand move back to under you, helping support you. You dig your hands into the base of his wings, gently tugging and nipping at his ear. He lets out a strangled gasp as his pace falters, getting sloppy. “Gonna fill you up, Babe. Gonna fill you so fucking full,” he growls, biting down on a bruise from earlier, eliciting a mixed cry of pain and pleasure from you. You clench around him as he pulls you down hard, hips stuttering as he groans.

It's quiet, save for the panting coming from you both as you slowly come down from your highs. Adam rubs your hips, kissing the bruises on your neck as you slump on him, hand gently brushing his feathers from where you were gripping them. His wings unfurl from around you, taking their warmth, and causing goosebumps to once again overtake your skin.

“Such a good girl,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your lips as he lays you down, pulling out with a grunt of dismay. You chuckle softly, eyes closing when he lays your head on your pillow. You feel him messing with the collar, can hear the clasp as he undoes it, but you can't be bothered to make a move to assist him. You hear him laugh as he pulls the clasp end, the leather warming your neck as it pulls across your bare skin. You feel the bed dip as he shifts down towards the foot, repeating the motions for both ankle braces that once held the spreader bar.

When he looks back at you, he notices the gentle rise and fall of your chest, signaling you're asleep. He sighs, heading to the bathroom to clean himself and get you a warm washcloth. He steps into the bathroom and grabs the gold washcloth, turning on the tap, waiting for it to warm up. Once he's satisfied with the temperature, he lets the cloth fully soak before wringing it out and returning to you after shutting off the tap. He tries to ask you if you'd be ok with him gently cleaning you. When you don't answer, he snorts out a laugh and gently nudges your legs apart, trying to be as gentle as possible. He tosses the rag into the hamper against the wall, climbing into bed beside you. He tugs you close, slightly surprised when you roll onto his chest. He hums and cradles your head, pressing a kiss to your crown and snapping a blanket over you both.

“Goodnight, sleep well, my Angel,” he says, wings spreading wide and curling them around you.

___________________________________________

(Oh, did you think it was done? Oh no, Sweetheart, there's more. 😘)

The sound of knocking rouses you from your slumber. You groan and nuzzle into the warmth below you, trying to ignore the sound, hoping if you don't answer, whoever it is will go away. The door opening has your eyes snapping open. You move to push yourself up, but two arms wrap around you, keeping you in place. You feel the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. With your back to the door and being trapped under Adam's arms, you won't be able to fight back. A familiar shadow pushes open the cracked door, letting out a sigh at the sight of you. Lute pinches the bridge of her nose as she steps over to the bed, prying Adam's arms off you. She glances at you without a word, eyes trailing from your neck to your back. She crawls onto the bed, fingers quickly unlocking the brace holding your wings.

A gasp escapes you, eyes squeezing shut as you are finally able to move your wings. They're stiff as can be and they kind of hurt from being forced straight for the night. Lute sighs, holding out a hand for you. You take it hesitantly, but curiosity gets the better of you. You trust her, even if you're at your most vulnerable, and nude, in front of your lieutenant. She pulls you off the bed, towards the bathroom where she quickly starts a bath, getting the water set to the perfect temperature.

“Get in,” she orders quietly, sitting on the side of the tub. You blink, tilting your head as you obey her without question, the fire of the last month extinguished with last night's much needed treatment.

“Join me?” you ask, stepping over the side and sitting in the water with her help, wings folding close to your sides. She stares at you before nodding subtly. You watch as she strips and sets her clothes on the counter, grabbing two towels, resting them on the side of the tub.

“Turn around, I'll help you preen,” she offers, stepping into the large tub, sitting behind you. You turn your back to her, head slumping forward as she deftly runs her fingers through your feathers, straightening those that are crooked or twisted. You shudder as her hands work your feathers, and you can't help the whimper that you let out as she continues preening your wings for you. If she heard you, she doesn't say, so you don't mention it, trying to focus on anything else besides the feeling of your feathers being messed with. You grip the side of the tub when you feel her hands massaging the spines of your wings. The warmth from the water and the massage help make them feel a bit better.

“Thank you.” You know you don't have to say it, but you also know it's appreciated. “And, I'm sorry. For being a brat and for taking out my frustration on the other exorcists,” you start to ramble, eyes blurry as tears threatening to fall. Lute spins you around, gently cradling your chin in her hand, forcing you to look her in the eye.

“You're good now? Not going to be trying to harm our exorcists?” When you nod in agreement, she gives you a small smile, a rare gesture she keeps reserved for those close to her. “Good. Once you're done here, meet me at the compound,” she continues, stepping out and wrapping one of the towels around herself. You deadpan.

“You mean I still gotta meet you for those morning trainings?” You whine, eyes following your superior. She sends you a wink, leaning over the side of the tub so she's at eye level.

“Absolutely. Just because you got off the hook easily with Adam, doesn't mean I'm not going to punish you too,” she chides playfully, pressing a swift peck to your lips as she slips her clothes back on. “I'll see you at the compound in twenty minutes.”

She's gone before you can protest. You drop your hands into the water, groaning as you realize just how much of a mess you've made with being a brat.

Fuck! I still have to go apologize to Saint Peter too, you sink into the water, not looking forward to your day.

Taglist: @miss-menhera @fizzy-fuzz @atttwoood

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doki-doki-imagines · 1 month

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wc: 10k (next time I write this much shoot me down from the start) author note: wrote this to celebrate one year since I have been writing for bllk! Since my first post was about Sae I thought to celebrate with a fic about him. If you know me a bit, you know Sae is far from being one of my faves so I feel like a clown writing this much for him sob.

tw: none. 10k words of fluff more or less.

If you like my writing consider supporting me on ko-fi!

You are sitting on an iron bench, wet from head to toe, with no way to protect yourself from the incessant rain. Your makeup is ruined and tears can’t be discerned from the droplets of rain running down your face.

You look desperate and there is no need to look at your face to understand that, you supporting your head with your hands is enough, crouched on yourself, sighs sound dulled by the downpour.

“You look pathetic.” It’s a familiar voice, one that makes your skin crawl and now increases your heartbeat to dangerous levels. You look up and you see him, in all his cold beauty. He is wearing a brown boiled wool coat, underneath a turtleneck black sweater peaking out. He is looking down at you, like a high-class rich when he sees a snotty kid, the grey umbrella covers a bit his face, but those ice irises pierce your figure anyway.

“Sae-“ You whisper out your voice full of disbelief and shame.

But how did you find yourself in such a miserable situation? We have to go back a bit.

One year ago

You have never been a fan of parties, they can be a good way to unplug your brain for a bit before going back to normal life. But after a while you need a break, the music and sweaty bodies overwhelm your senses. Your friend Elisa stays back, a guy caught her attention but she asks where you’ll go, in case she won’t see you for long.

You go outside, the cold breeze of winter hits your naked skin making you shiver, but at least you can now breathe. There is nobody else outside other than you and a red hair sitting on the small brick wall on the opposite side of the entrance. You decide to sit there too, at a safe distance not wanting to bother him but close enough to start a chat in case you stay there a little longer than needed.

You look around a bit, breathing in and out while you notice the leaves moving and bushes filled with trash. It’s not a great sight and for sure straining your sight for that doesn’t seem a good idea, so your eyes fall on the stranger sitting next to you. He is now checking his phone, red strands framing his face. You notice his long lashes, it’s always guys that have the crazy luck to have doe lashes, the lower ones touching the apple of his cheeks. He looks young, but he has a mature aura around him, an idea that comes from both his posture and his clothes. The sky-blue shirt he is wearing must be crazy expensive-

“Can you stop looking at me?” You widen your eyes, now comically big.

“You mean-“ You point a finger towards yourself, but you can’t finish the phrase that the guy snaps back.

“Yes, you. Stop looking at me.” He finally faces you, his teal eyes staring at you as you’d do with a cockroach; the same amount of disgust.

He stands up now in front of you “You must be the friend of my physiotherapist, right?”

You nod. After all, it is thanks to her if tonight you are here, at a party full of famous football players and hot beyond imagination models…you must stick out like a sore thumb.

“I guess you recognized who I am. Please, stop. I don’t want to know you, I don’t have time for a relationship.”

Your mouth is wide open.

“I don’t know who you are-“

“Yeah, sure. I have to go now. Don’t follow me.” He doesn’t even wave back, he just gives you his back and walks away.

You have never felt so angry in your life, and you had to deal with a lot of assholes to reach this point in your life.

You stomp inside, searching for Elisa to ask what the fuck is wrong with people and you find there, the guy from before still next to her but there are also other guys and girls and him. The first reaction is to walk away, possibly closing yourself inside the bathroom until they finished chatting or, at least, that guy walked away, but luck isn’t on your side your friend already waving at you signaling to go sit with her.

There is just your friend's body between you and that guy, but this time it’s your eyes that throw daggers at him every time he just even breathes your way; he doesn’t seem to care and it angers you even more.

“Oh let me present you to Sae! He is the football guy I work for!” She said looking at you with a smile that goes from one ear to the other, alcohol playing crazy tricks in her mind not to notice your cracked mood. You extend your hand, trying to be a decent person and you see him sighing. Why punching idiots is not acceptable in modern society? Maybe because you probably wouldn’t be able to stop, after hitting that ugly mug the first time.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Sae.” Your smile is fake, but you think you do a good job of hiding your feelings. The handshake is short, but while you tighten the grip to show you aren’t a weakling, the red hair slips his hand away the second your palms touch.

“Call me Itoshi.”

“Mh? Is that your name?”

“No, it’s my surname. I don’t like strangers to call me by my name.” He replies, back now hitting the red sofa of the club, looking somewhere on the dancefloor, probably at the butt of some dancer.

You look straight into the eyes of your friend and something finally clicks in her mind because you see cold sweat forming on her forehead after the interaction you had with Sae. No, wait. Itoshi.

“Well, guys-“ She claps her hand “it’s time for us to go, thanks for having us.” She stands up and you follow while she finishes to say goodbye to her colleagues. “See you tomorrow, Sae. Don’t exaggerate with drinks!” It’s clearly a joke, her tongue pokes out and Sae smiles back at her.

He would be cute. If only he isn’t such a shit. Your heart almost jumped with joy when the corner of his lips turned upwards, but your brain, thankfully reminded your body how he treated you a few minutes ago.

The walk towards your friend’s car is silent, the people inside the club making enough noise. Your silence gets broken when you enter the vehicle, before your friend can turn the engine on she stares at you.

“I leave you alone a few minutes and you get in a catfight with my client, really?” There is no real anger in her voice, knowing her position isn’t in danger. So you explode at her, telling her chapter and verse of what happened between you two.

“Is he always such an asshole? I feel sorry for you, I hope he pays you enough.” Your friend’s head hits the headrest, and a loud bubbly laugh escapes her mouth.

“Is he worse? Fuck maybe you should change job-“

“No, no. It’s that I invited you tonight because I hoped you could get together in the future.” Her voice is often broken by laughter and finally, anger free, you remember that she probably has drunk too much.

“Let’s switch, you are drunk.”

“No, c’mon. Sae is usually nice! He is a bit cold, but I thought a partner, or just a friend-” and it’s not hard for you to imagine he has nobody to talk with, every time he opens his mouth it’s the same as having two fingers in your eyes “You are also single, so I thought it could work out!” She slaps your shoulder and keeps giggling and now you are sure that you need to be the one to drive you both home.

“Don’t ever leave your job, you suck at playing Cupid-“ You giggle too, finally switching places and driving you both home.

The drive is filled with useless chatter, your friend seemed really into that dude of before, Leonardo is his name? Tomorrow with a more lucid mind you’ll dig more into your friend's new crush.

And you hope you’ll soon forget about that asshole of teammate too.

8 months ago

When you return home after an intense day of work, the bare minimum you request is complete relaxation. No parties, no worries, no discussions; it’s the perfect way to welcome the weekend.

What you don’t want is to get jumpscared before you can even step in, a certain teal-eyed dude the first thing your eyes see.

“Fuck!” You are tempted to close the door, maybe it’s all your imagination and when you reopen he, the Itoshi, won’t be there anymore. But you don’t live in a fantasy world, sadly, so you know you’ll have the accept your fate.

“What happened?” It’s your friend’s voice screaming from the kitchen.

“Nothing, I’ve just seen a cockroach.” You reply with a monotone voice, closing the door with your foot.

You look better at the intruder, sitting on your couch. One hand has the remote, zapping between the channels, the other lying on the top of the furniture, fist keeping up his head.

He turns to look at you “Did you see yourself in the mirror?” And the sudden urge to hit him with the house key pervades your body. You groan at his comment, but decide to drop the topic; you have no energy to get angry.

“Oh, sorry I didn’t tell you before but Sae is staying with us this week. His apartment is flooded and all his teammates couldn’t help him out.” She comes into the living room with a bowl of…freshly cut vegetables? You suppose it was your guest's request, as much as Elisa likes carrots there is no way this was a choice born from her brain.

Now you know why she didn’t tell you anything about it. You would have taken a hotel room and made Elisa pay for it if you knew what was going on. He, at least, thanks her and it surprises you because you thought he didn’t know what manner are. Or common courtesy.

“I’m going to change into something more comfortable.” You sigh, your mind already adjusted to the idea of having that dude in your house. ‘It won’t be forever. Calm down. Don’t shout, don’t get angry.’ You repeat to yourself while wearing the comfiest pj in your wardrobe; you need it.

When you go back into the living room the film was already chosen, but you don’t mind, so tired that you know you’ll fall asleep the moment your head hits the pillow. The chat gets louder and definitely pick your interest.

“We both go to medical field universities! I finished my studies at home and as you know I work here, but-“ Elisa points her index finger at your figure, a fluffy cover hiding your body all crouched up on a side of the couch not to touch, or just get near, the guest “She is still studying to become a doctor! She will stay here one year and then she will need to go back home to finish her studies, right?” You nod at your friend's words, now looking at the film.

“The film isn’t bad.” You whisper, humming in agreement.

“It was my choice.” A deeper voice replies back, it’s Sae.

You look at him until you meet his teal eyes. You see an equal amount of tiredness in his eyes and you seem to silently agree not to sassy reply back.

You are able to look at the film without falling asleep, at times you can feel Elisa asking stuff to Sae but you are too distant to understand what they say. There is a pang of jealousy that stabs your heart, usually, you chat with Elisa while watching films and you don’t like the idea of being substituted by him.

You try to brush away the feeling. Maybe she is the one who has a crush on him, and even if you think she has questionable taste you won’t put yourself against their love. You yawn the second the end credits start to roll. You decide to go to bed, since you have no strength to add yourself to their pillow-talk, in the shared room you have to Elisa.

“I’ll come soon too.” She whispers while you nod, walking away; probably she wants a moment with her crush. You don’t even hear her opening the door, your brain voyaging dreamland the second your head hit the pillow.

You are the first to wake up in the morning, you step toward the kitchen trying not to wake up your roommate, and start to prepare coffee for the both of you. You are so used to making it that it becomes an automatism. It’s when the moka is on the fire that you start to look around, noticing a package that definitely wasn’t yours or of Elisa.

“That’s mine.” You hear croaking behind you, the sound makes you jump on your place.

“Yeah, it seemed pretty obvious. What is it? Some kind of tea?”

“Yes, it is salted kombucha tea. Want to try it?”

You snort and Sae looks at you questioningly, probably thinking his pronunciation is wrong.

“I hate tea. I’m team coffee.” You say pointing with your thumb to the moka, now gurgling a sign that your coffee is ready. Sae looks at you with disgust, a face you know pretty well by now.

“We are really different.”

“I was thinking that too.” You say now giving him the back to take the cups on the high shelf, a spoonful of sugar in your cup, nothing in Elisa's one.

Meanwhile, he has moved, opening the window of your kitchen. Summer is starting but the weather is still acceptable, morning breeze is a nice way to freshen the house.

“You want to make your own tea or I can do it for you? Do you trust me?” You say smirking, already knowing the answer.”

“I prefer to make it myself.”

You nod, a Chesire smirk plastered on your face. You point out where he can find the kettle, now sitting on the table, right next to the window, your head supported by your right hand.

He soon sits in front of you with his cup of tea, he looks outside for a moment, giving you the possibility to admire his features again.

He has a nice jaw, his skin is pretty smooth, probably he doesn’t have much beard, his upper lip is arched perfectly, his lips plump but not too big or better, they suit his face. His nose is slightly pointed upwards-

“You like to stare.”

Your head slid comically; you got caught, again.

“It happens when I look at beautiful stuff.” Really, the comment slips from your mouth before you can bite your tongue. But you feel him choking on his tea and it soothes the pain.

“You are also bold.” He looks at you with furrowed eyebrows, with such hatred in his eyes you almost worry to have done something way worse than throwing a compliment in his way.

“I just like to joke around.” You smile in your cup, a smile that grows wider when his eyebrows comically drop.

You hear him clicking his tongue, but you don’t say anything more.

You both finish your beverages, but Elisa is still sound asleep.

“Shouldn’t you wake her up?”

“Today is her free day, let her relax a bit.” You reply, putting his cup into the dishwasher.

You see uneasiness in his eyes, there is something he needs to tell you, so you make the first move as a good host.

“Is there something you need?”

“Usually I do yoga and meditate. Can you go out.” He formulated it as a request, but it sounded like an order in your ears.

“Can’t you do it in the living room? Or your bedroom?” You propose.

“My bedroom is too small. There are no windows in the living room and I’d prefer to breathe fresh air.” You nod, his reasoning makes sense and there isn’t else you need to do in the kitchen.

“Can you teach me?” You propose half to piss him off, half because you suffer from terrible neck pain and you know yoga could help you out.

You notice how bad he takes it and you bask in the sensation of being finally able to take a rise of him.

“Don’t you have to go to university? Or I don’t know, student stuff?” He says it fast and makes you chuckle.

“It’s too early! I have all the time of the world now.” You get near him, trying to muster up the nicest puppy eyes ever done “I swear I’ll be a good student and won’t joke around.”

“No.” Your nice façade drop.

“You are a real pain.”

“Look at yourself before saying that.” He looks at you with the same eyes as your encounter. The best choice is to leave him alone, and you do, but not without grumbling.

When you enter your bedroom Elisa is wide awake, already dressed for the day reading a book, a fantasy you guess knowing her taste.

“Mh? Elisa why are you here? You didn’t want to have breakfast with Mr. Sourpuss?” She clearly didn’t notice you entering the bedroom. She closes the book and smiles at your comment.

“I didn’t want to bother your bonding time.” She sing-sangs, book placed on the night table.

“Is this a way to force me to like your new boyfriend?” Your eyes pierce her figure, muscles tense, trying to grasp any twitch or wince on her face. But nothing comes, if anything she replies to you with a pure laugh, not a fake one.

“I don’t see Sae that way, you dunce-“ Elisa stands up, hands now on your shoulders shaking you “I really think you can get along, please give him a chance.” She says exasperated.

“Tell him that, he is always an ass with me, and please-“ You say removing her hands from your shoulders “Stop playing Cupid, it’s really not your job.” You go towards your wardrobe ready to change for the day while Elisa keeps whining but no words get registered in your brain.

You don’t see anybody for lunch, so you spend a quiet afternoon at home, reviewing your notes and refreshing the lesson of the previous day.

Elisa is the first to come home, there is still light outside thanks to the longer summer days and she helps you out cooking dinner.

“We have to cook something healthy, you know-“ She winks “For our guest.”

Damn, for a second you forgot about him. “Shouldn’t he cook? So we are sure to prepare the right stuff.”

“I don’t know how to.” You hear from the living room, it’s his voice. You walk to the living room and you see him, freshly showered you guess from the soft soap smell coming from him and with two bags containing what you guess is food.

“I asked my private chef to cook for all of us.” He says placing the bag on the coffee table in the living room.

“Thanks, Sae!” Elisa says “Let me take these to the kitchen, I’ll prepare the table.”

“Do you need help?” Elisa brushes off your question “I know how to put a tablecloth and cutlery.”

To you, it sounded like an excuse to make you stay alone with the redhair.

“Thanks, Itoshi.” You hate how his surname rolled on your tongue, but you had to accept it.

He nods, removing his jacket and hanging it on the coat rack. You don’t miss to notice how at home he already feels; for sure he has good adaptation skills.

“So, how was your day?” You try to small chat, to break the unbearable silence it was already forming.

“Like always.” His answer is curt, but you can’t understand if it is because he doesn’t want to talk or just because it is him.

“And yours?” This surprises you.

“It was a good day. I was able to take a lot of good notes and the lesson was interesting.”

He nods at your words “I suppose it is hard.”

“Yes, but it is also really rewarding. For example-“ You start to blabber, and you notice it but you can’t stop, excitement guiding you even if you know your interlocutor has little to no interest in what you are saying. Embarrassing.

“Hey! It’s ready.” It’s Elisa that save you, stopping your blabbering. “What were you talking about?” She asks, curiosity evident.

You’d like to reply but you are too astonished by the food in front of you. Everything looked mouth-watering, you didn’t even know food could get such vivid colors, not to talk about the smell-

“She was telling me about her cardiac surgery lessons.” Sae replies for you, thankfully your eyes are already comically wide thanks to the food in front of you so nobody notices your surprise at his words.

So he was listening?

“Oh! I’m happy you are finally knowing each other, but now let’s eat! We don’t want the food to get cold.” You both nod at Elisa words and damn the food was as beautiful as it was delicious. There is not much chat, enjoying the meal in silence, just the background sound of the television to keep you company.

“Hey, you should accompany Sae to the aquarium one of these days.” Elisa says with a voice full of cheer. It doesn’t take much for you to understand where she took that idea, the advertisement of the aquarium still going on television.

“Well, it all depends on Sae, he has really strict hours-“

“Let’s go tomorrow. I have no training to do.” He says, no real force behind his words like he is just accepting his fate.

You gasp a bit “Oh, okay then. Is it fine in the afternoon?”

He nods, slurping down some of his cold noodles, you can only wish your technique will ever be as good as his, not a single drop of oil staining his shirt or mouth.

The dinner ends quietly, you place the crockery in the dishwasher and go directly into your bedroom.

The morning comes awfully quick and you feel even more tired than when you went to sleep. You proceed with your morning routine, not Elisa nor Sae insight so you take it easy. After you prepare yourself you go back to your books, your attention often grasped by anything going on.

Your attention gets caught one more time by a notification on your phone; it’s Eliza.

“Got a cute lunch date with a cutie. Try not to kill Sae and have a nice date <3” Ugh. She can be so pushy at times. You sigh and notice the hour, it’s time to eat.

When you enter the living room you notice Sae already made himself comfortable on the sofa.

“I didn’t hear you coming in.”

“I tried to be silent. I was doing yoga so I didn’t make much sound.” He replies, boredom dripping from his voice as usual. You nod “Are we blessed again by your chef's food today or I’m on my own?”

“The latter.”

“Oh! Can I make you piadina? It’s an easy dish to make.”

He turns around, teal eyes finally looking at you “What are the ingredients?”

“It’s easy! It’s more or less a circle of bread that gets folded this way and you can choose how to fill it.” You walk near him and show him the screen of your phone, the picture on it the perfect example of a perfect piadina.

“So…I can choose something different than fried potato, right?”

“Yes, you fill it with whatever you want. Simply sausage and fried potatoes with pepperoni is a classic match.” He looks at you with disgust, and at this point it makes you laugh.

“Not a fan? I swear the match is heavenly.”

“Aren’t you a doctor? You should know fried potatoes are toxic to the body.” This time you chuckle out loud.

“Fried potatoes are the last thing you should worry about between the ingredients I told you. And anyway-“ You sign to him to walk with you towards the kitchen “You won’t die eating it once in a while.”

“I don’t know anything about this stuff. I just go with what my manager and dietologist tell me.” He replies, pointing to the fridge with the ingredients he wants.

“No? For real?” You start to cook his one, the guest always comes first.

“Yeah, other than football I don’t know much else.” You notice a hint of sadness in his voice, irises darkening a bit and it tickles something in the back of your brain.

“Well, next time why don’t you help me cook? You may have a personal chef but it is nice to have different skills.”

He nods, he doesn’t burst with joy, but he seems serious. You give him his dish, arugula, and tomatoes. You do the same, half because you like the match and the other half because you don’t want to prepare other ingredients.

You eat in silence, something you already expected.

“Are you ready to go to the aquarium?” You ask, putting the dish in the dishwasher.

He nods giving you his one. Previously Sae asked you if you wanted to go by car “If you don’t trust me I can always call my driver” but you refused his offer, telling him that you’d bring him there gladly and with the perfect vehicle for such a sunny day.

“Good, get ready because my vehicle is amazing.” He bends his head a little, confused by your words, but doesn’t inquire more. He supposes it will be a surprise.

For sure it is a surprise, but not the good kind.

“It’s a bike.” His voice drips venom, but you brush it off.

“Not just a bike, it’s a graziella! Perfect to carry people on the back!” You say, slapping the bike rear-rack.

“It’s too low, it will be uncomfortable for my legs.” He retorts but you don’t desist, smiling back at him.

“In fact, you don’t have to sit, you have to stand up on it on completely trust my skills.” The face he makes is pure comedy, it’s a mixture of scared, anger and, as always, disgust. “C’mon mister Itoshi. I swear you can trust me, not even a bug will hit your precious legs, let alone the ground.” You hear him gulp and see the gears in his brain running, you wait a few seconds but the answer finally arrives.

“Okay, but if something happens to me you’ll pay with interest.” You nod and smile back sitting on the saddle. You soon feel the bike moving under you with the added weight. You start to pedal not wanting to lose balance and make you both fall on the ground and his hands immediately find support on your shoulder, gripping tight on them.

“Let’s go!” You shout, the bike is harder to manage but you push forward. The ride is silent, the summer breeze dancing around you two, only gasps can be heard from the guy standing on the back when you take a hole making both the bike and Sae jump. His hands aren’t as tight on you anymore, probably he is trying to trust you as best as he can, it’s pleasing to think he is starting to trust you, the feeling runs to your head becoming a pink fog that makes you feel dangerously well and uncaring. You are sure you would look like a postcard if someone took a photo right now, you feel so peaceful that it’s hard to imagine you look bad right now.

Dangerous because you almost don’t notice that you arrived at the aquarium, pulling harshly on the brakes almost making your guest jump off the bike if it wasn’t for his hands harpooning your shoulders.

“Sorry-“ You say in between your teeth, wincing at your mistake. You hear him scoff but he decides to not salt in the wound.

“Put the bike there, I’ll pay for the tickets.”

“Are you sure? I can pay for my own-“ He doesn’t even listen to you, walking to the ticket office without looking back at you once.

The visit was actually really fun, for you at least, Sae never expressed any kind of emotions, the corners of his lips a line that never twitched upwards or downwards. You see teals eyes looking around, but it seems nothing catches his attention. At least he stops when you ask, not a groan of disapproval, not a happy smile either.

“I like penguins.” You say looking at the glass separating you from the cute bird wobbly on its feet. A gasp of surprise escapes your mouth when one of them dives into the salty water to stop exactly in front of you. You pull at the end of Sae’s shirt, the excitement going straight to your head, too busy being ‘a finger apart’ than ruining your guest's clothes. You shout in happiness but the sound is drowned by the squalls of kids around you.

“I can see.” Finally, a hint of a smile appears on his face, but you are now too busy looking back at the penguins to notice it. Meanwhile, Sae is too busy looking at the features of your face, looking for once at you, not looking down on you. The blue and soft lights of the aquarium make you look like a dream, the joy in your eyes matching your smile.

Something moves inside him, it’s pleasant but it fades in a snap of a finger when you face him again, prompting him to walk towards the next glass. You talk about colorful jellyfish or something like that. It’s not that he is interested in anything there. After all, he accepted Elisa’s offer not to sound too rude even for his standard. But he thinks, that moment of happiness on your face was in part worth the deal.

Not that you’ll notice head entirely elsewhere.

“It was nice. Thanks for paying.” You are now outside, bike on hand while you walk near the seashore. The wind is stronger there, and more than once you shrink in your place, while the guy next to you is perfect, as always. A porcelain doll crafted by the most expert hands ‘too bad they didn’t lose another minute to work on his personality, tho’ you think.

“No problem. Can we stay here a minute longer?” Sae asks, but he is already still, as always it was an order, not a question. You nod, the sun is setting, painting the sea warm colors, waves are big but reduced to nothing when they arrive so near your feet. You see him breathing in, eyes closing to enjoy the moment.

“Do you like the sea, Itoshi?”

“Yes. I used to always visit the beach with my brother.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you have a sibling! Is he hot?” You chuckle, blossoming in full laughter after he sides eye you, annoyance mixing with the green of his eyes.

“He isn’t your type.” He clicks his tongue “You like handsome guys and he is not.” His voice is flat, as usual.

“Handsome guys? Yeah, I like them, obviously but why do you have this idea of me?”

“Simple-“ a smile, a real one, grace his features “You like me.” You gasp at his world, pushing his shoulder, but his body barely move.

“Mister Itoshi, your ego is way too big!” You puff out your cheeks, but there is no real anger in your words.

“Sae.”

“Mh?” The silence lasts very little but it feels like an eternity.

“Call me Sae.” His teal eyes link with yours. His voice is low, serious and makes your knees wobble a little. He looks happy, the sun painting beautiful shades on his fair skin. It’s honestly a breathtaking sight.

“Okay, Sae. Your ego is still too big!” You break the tension, too heavy all of a sudden. Too intense for two strangers who couldn’t even suffer each other.

Just too much.

The spell is broken and you see him wince, ‘probably he didn’t want to sound so intense’ you think telling him to go back home. The ride is silent, when midway it’s Sae who decides to talk.

“Why are people looking at us weird?”

“Maybe because you are a football superstar?”

“No, the look when people recognize me is different.” You hum, but you come up with another motivation quick.

“Maybe because you are the one being carried! Usually is the guy that carries around the woman.” You state, no malice in your words. He is silent for a few seconds.

“Let’s switch.”

“You don’t have to worry, I don’t care about this-“

“I said stop pedaling and switch places with me.”

“Stop ordering me around! Plus if you have never done that there is no way you can keep me-“

“If you don’t switch I’ll jump off the bike, I’ll hurt myself and do you remember what you promised me this afternoon?” You feel more of his weight on your shoulders like he wants to remind you of his upper position, just figurately now “I’ll make you you pay, remember?” It’s the same voice he used on you the first time you met and it made you reflexly pull the brakes, this time slower so he could jump off without any risk.

He sits on your place and clicks his head, as a sign for you to stand on the back.

“But if you hurt me? What do I gain?” Your voice is wobbly, not trusting him at all. Your hands grip tightly on his shoulders and you are sure there will be a red sign there tomorrow.

“I’ll kiss it better. Now shut up.” He starts pedaling, not checking you once. For sure you didn’t like his answer but jumping off now sounded like a good way to sprain your ankle.

“Do you know at least the road to go home!?” He takes a hole and makes you jump, you suppose it’s the karma for how you drove before

“…okay. Talk just to tell me where to go.”

You arrived home, safe and sound. You don’t kiss the ground just because you don’t want to act overdramatic, but feeling the ground under your feet with no wounds on your legs seems a real miracle. Elisa welcomes you both with a big smile, her eyes are tired but you notice a drop of happiness in her eyes so you do not worry. The week goes by naturally. You and Sae don’t banter as often, but calling what you have a friendship would be a stretch, Elisa still tries to push you into something more, but her attempts are failures, if not disasters most of the time. Thankfully Sae doesn’t dig further, not that he cares since he is so sure you have a mind-numbingly, heart-shattering crush on him anyway.

The real surprise comes when he goes back home, everyone is back to their normal life ‘till one day receives a message from an unknown number. It’s not a text, but a picture of you two, of when you were going to the aquarium since you were the one pedaling. There are ginormous texts on the sides probably it has been published by one of those gossip magazines you tend to avoid.

“Who are you?” You text back, and an answer will not be long in coming.

“Sae. Elisa gave me your number.” You smile thinking how happy she probably was when Sae asked for it. She was probably giggling like a schoolgirl.

“Why did you contact me? It’s a problem if we were seen together?”

“No” A dry texter, exactly what you expected.

“Then let me say; we really looked beautiful.” You write it with a heart bursting in happiness. You both looked happy, your faces radiating joy. You may not be an earth-shattering beauty but nobody would have been able to sincerely say you looked bad.

“We did.”

You are happy to know he feels the same.

5 months ago

You are at a beach party. Honestly, you would rather be somewhere else but after closing yourself for two months at home to pass your exams you need a bit of fresh air. Summer is now leaving its place to autumn, the days are still long, but at least the temperature is acceptable. Stars are shining high in the sky and everyone seems to enjoy the party. You wear a cute dress, ‘the one for good occasions’ you repeat to yourself. It’s not tight, the skirt is large enough that you can easily move around, but it hugs your waist before getting larger again on the chest area-

“Hey-“ Elisa elbows you “Sae is sitting on the couch all alone, why don’t you keep him company.” She laughs but this time it isn’t for the alcohol; she is just dumber because she could get with her crush, Leonardo. Actually, he was the one to set the party all teammates and their partners invited. You actually came thanks to Elisa's invite, but you would be lying if you said that it didn’t matter seeing Sae.

Something more keen to a friendship developed between you two during these months, the messages you exchanged a clear sign. What surprised you the most was that he also was the one to start conversations, asking if you were fine, checking if everything was okay. You had no other occasion to meet in person, between matches and studies you both had your hands full, so you don’t mind actually catching up with him.

“Hey sourpuss, it has been a while!” You plop down on the couch next to him. He widens his eyes in surprise, looking like a scared kitten, before returning to the bored expression, not even greeting you.

“Not even a hello? Bad night for our Casanova?” You chuckle as he clicks his tongue knowing full well you are teasing him.

“You know I’m not interested in a romantic relationship.” He is bored out of his mind and you decide to tease him some more…maybe you drunk too much.

“Well, it seems to me you are liking that girl over there. Your eyes are glued to her-“ You can’t finish the phrase, his index finger pressing against your lips.

“I never thought you were one for physical contact.”

“Never know you liked to drink this much either.” He takes the drink from your hand and takes a sip from it. “It actually tastes good.”

“I know it, you big bully! I just wanted to cheer you up and I get treated this way.” You whine. The redhead looks at you for a minute too long, pondering what to do, when his hand decides to find the crown of your head, patting you.

“Shh baby, everything is fine.” It’s a smile full of mirth and it reminds you that he is really handsome, in case your memory fails you. You must look like a pathetic cat in front of him, all pouty and a bit stupid thanks to alcohol.

“I just wanted to spend some time with you.” You whisper out, but for sure he could hear it, getting closer to you. This time you don’t see any mirth in his eyes, back to his usual seriousness so you decide to be direct with your feelings. “I missed you. That week living together made me really change my opinion of you.” This time you don’t whisper and you see Sae getting taken back by your words, batting his long lashes at your words. You can’t hold his gaze so you fix yourself on the fire in front of you, made to perfectly set the beach party atmosphere.

“Then we should meet more often.” You look back at him, but this time it’s Sae looking elsewhere, not at a specific person on the dancefloor, simply looking in front of him. “Taken with moderation it’s nice talking with you.” It’s his usual sarcasm and you feel melting, like he just removed a heavy weight you didn’t even know to carry.

“Okay, let’s promise!” You hold your pinky out and it makes Sae raise his eyebrow.

“I appreciate you wanting to integrate my culture, but we stop doing that after elementary sch-“

“Shhh, don’t break the magic! Just do it!” He sighs before rolling his eyes but at the end, he gives up intertwining your pinkies together.

“From now on we promise to see each other more often, like good friends!” The words roll from your mouth carelessly, even if you are serious about it. You feel Sae tightening your grip on your pinkie at the ‘good friends’ part but you don’t give it much importance.

“Are you next week?”

“Yes, I am now that exams ended! Do you have something in mind?” You ask a bit too excited.

“My manager told me to participate in a cooking video or something along those lines. He said it would be good for my image and they pay a lot, but-“

“You hate not being prepared, right?” You interrupt “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you a mouth-watering recipe!” And you compliment yourself for being really smooth when your hand, linked to his just by your pinkie, perfectly slides to hold it, palm to palm but not bold enough to intertwine fingers. Sae doesn’t jerk away from your touch if anything holding your hand tighter before nodding at your words. He holds your gaze and just then you notice how close his face is to yours, how there is just a whiff separating your lips…

“It’s time for the toasts! Everyone come!!” The shout of one of Sae's teammates awakes you both from the moment separating you two as quickly as you got near to each other. You don’t talk much to each other the rest of the night and you decide not to overthink what just happened, you probably drank too much and he probably was too tired to tell you to step back. For sure beach liked to play tricks on you.

Obviously, not overthinking was easier said than done, even with a pounding headache your mind started to wander and it only got worse when Sae texted his free day, to which you replied with a thumbs up. You aren’t worried about the recipe to make him cook, you have done it countless times and your mother sent you the right ingredients not so long ago. You are worried because maybe you are harboring feelings for him and you’d hate to tell him he was right all along. You can already see his smile, going from one ear to the other; you can accept being rejected, but not being made fun of.

Thankfully Lady Luck is on your side the day you finally meet up, but in a wicked way, making the chain of your bike drop something you had never to deal with. So when you hear the bell ringing your mind goes in tilt not being able to choose if panicking for your bike or for the guy in front of your door.

“Hi Sae.” You whisper out, leaning on your door.

“You are dirty.”

“Is this some new kind of dirty talking-“ He pushes you to the side, entering the house.

“So what happened? You look like a flea that just swam in petroleum.”

“You are always so delicate Sae.” You slump your shoulders before explaining what happened “I tried to watch a video to fix it myself but it was no use.”

“I can help, where is the bike?” You look up, hope shining in your eyes.

“Oh the garage is the first left door at the end of the corridor, but are you sure-“ Sae already walked away, the squeak of the garage door telling you he got the right door.

When you reach him he is already on his knees, fingers deftly working to put the greasy chain in its place.

“Done.” He flips the bike as easily as you’d flip a pancake, not even a sneer of fatigue appears. “Anything else?” You are shocked by how fast he fixed it.

“Aren’t you the one that doesn’t know anything other than football?”

“Yeah, but I had a childhood too. My little brother always messed it up. Do you have anything to wash the grease off?” You nod wanting the clean yourself up too.

“Now that we are all cleaned up, let’s cook! Today I want to teach you how to make tortellini, a type of stuffed pasta, have you ever heard of it?” The red hair waves his head left and right, you see curiosity in his eyes and it makes something bubble in you. “I have already done the filling, it’s easy to make later I’ll tell you the ingredients, but now let’s focus on the dough. As you can see I did a little fountain with the flour and we will have to put the yolks and the eggs white inside, like this-“ You show it to him, his teal eyes still fixed on your movements “Now grab a fork and start to mix, not everything together, just a bit and then always more until you can start to knead with your hands.” This is the worst part, the dough is hard and you need a lot of strength to mix it to perfection. “Wanna give me a hand?” You gasp already tired. He nods, but you didn’t expect him to help in this way.

His right hand locks with yours, the other already at the bottom of the dough, and his chest is impossibly close to your back. You feel his chin on top of your shoulder, his breath hitting your neck.

It’s intimate, too intimate for your standards.

“H-Hey thanks but you don’t need to hug the chef to do it, you know?” You chuckle awkwardly, trying to move your head far from his, but his body caging you doesn’t let you move far.

“Mh? Sorry I thought it could work better. Feeling how your fingers work on the dough and everything.” It sounds like a poor excuse even for your ears, but you brush it off his arms not blocking you anymore; probably he just needed affection or something like that.

You move to the side, watching him knead, but your eyes soon travel up, to his face noticing a new detail…

“You have freckles?”

“I get them when I tan, I hate them.” The corner of his plush lips turn downwards, his hands working harsher on the dough.

“Why? They make you more human.”

“What are you saying? That I’m a cyborg?” He stops, green irises gazing straight into yours.

“I’m saying that looking ‘imperfect’ makes you more beautiful Sae.” You say it as a universal truth, your voice doesn’t waver, and your eyes don’t either. This time it’s he who has to break the eye contact, you see him biting his inner cheek.

“So now?” He points at the dough.

“Now we have to roll it out. We should use a rolling pin, but it is too much of a pain so we’ll use another device-”

“No, let me do the old way. I’m not a weakling like you.” His voice drips of malice and the urge to knock his head with the rolling pin is harder than ever.

“Okay then, use it. I’m curious to see how you’ll handle it.” Sae takes it from your hand and tries to use it. The shape wouldn’t even be bad if it wasn’t so poorly distributed, some places thin others awfully thick, plus you can see he isn’t using the right muscles, making him more sore than he should be.

“You are terrible, can’t you see it all has different thickness? Move let me show you how to do it.” You push him away, no real force In your movement but he moves away, giving you the rolling pin with a provocative demeanor. “We say you have to make love with the dough, use your hips like this and you won’t have to use all your arm strength. Now do it.” You give the utensil back, Sae nods eyes filled with concentration.

Too bad he keeps making the same mistake. You click your tongue “Sae, do I have to teach you how to make love?” You snicker when he sides-eye you.

“Okay mister icicle, let me show you again how to do that.” Your hands lay on his hips but you look at his face to understand if you crossed any boundary, but he doesn’t say anything, to say the truth he doesn’t even look at you, so you take it as consent. “Instead of using just your arm strength, help yourself with a push of the hips like this-“ You move it synched with his hands twice, before letting go of the hold you have on him. “Yeah, that’s exactly how you should do it!” You notice Sae smiling, it lasts very little but it is there and you feel really proud of his work.

Then you teach him how much filling is needed inside and how to close them up.

“I can’t do it, my fingers are too chubby, see?” The half-made tortellino’s dough tears in his hands that are, in fact, a bit too chubby to deftly close it.

“Hey, don’t trash it away! You can’t fix it but you can always have…an early taste.” You reply, winking at him.

“But won’t it be dangerous? The filling is cooked, but the pasta-“

“I swear you won’t die superstar, I’ve done it countless times and I’m as healthy as you are.” You say smacking his shoulder, but by the look, the redhair isn’t fully convinced. “C’mon try it!” You spur him like a granny urging her nephew to eat her home-cooked meal.

The shine in Sae’s eyes after the bit of food hit his tastebuds is a telltale sign that you really nailed the recipe. Not that you had any doubt to start with.

You finish closing them up and invite him for dinner telling him that Elisa is out so she won’t mind. Sae refuses your offer, his manager needs to see him so they’ll dine together.

“Well at least bring back home a bag of these!”

“Won’t you die of starvation?”

“Don’t act stupid, I won’t give you them all, I’m not that nice!” You prepare two servings “In case you want to share a meal with a special guest.” He replies with a huff, but you don’t care, knowing well how he can be.

“See you soon Sae.”

“If that raw pasta will kill me my lawyer will bang at your door.” He replies already out and walking towards the driver he called before.

“Don’t be overdramatic, it doesn’t suit you, ice man.” He smiles back at you behind the window of his car but you can’t see him since it is tinted.

From that day you don’t hear him until the famous cooking video he told you about appear on your screen. Obviously, they made him cook something way easier, too bad he had a blindfold on and his teammate had to tell him what to do.

“I hope your teamwork works better on the football field.” You text him, a winking emoji at the end.

His answer doesn’t long in coming “Worry more about your exams.” It hurts you more than being run over by a car.

3 months before

“Sae can you pick me up?”

“Did something happen?”

“Nothing that bad, but could you?”

“Send me your position, I’m coming.”

“Thanks” You sniff.

You are not used to crying, or better, you are not used anymore. Years of university thickened your skin enough to be able to deal with most wounds.

Most, not all.

You studied hard for this exam, it was one of the few ones you had to do to finally get your degree, one step closer to reaching your dream. But you failed it, and now you’ll have to wait months before being able to take it again. You didn’t meet with anybody, barely talked with Elisa, and you share a bedroom with her, skipped meals to be sure not to lose time, and repeated the paragraphs till your voice gave out.

All of this for a fist of nothing.

You cried and gasped the moment you were far enough from the classroom. Weakness isn’t accepted and pity is a sign you won’t survive long in this world; this is what you’ve been taught. You forgot how shit you could feel while crying, how lonely you are. You wanted to call your parents, they have always been good at reassuring you, but then Sae's name was the first contact to appear and you clicked without thinking twice.

Maybe harsh love is what you need.

You regret your choice the second you hear the first thrill. He must be training, maybe he is in the sweet company of someone, you can already hear his ice-cold voice snapping at you for bothering him. But you don’t have the time to close the call, Sae picked it up and was coming to help.

You recognize the car, it was the same one that picked him up when he went back home from his house, but this time he is the one driving.

“Come in.”

You sit on the soft leather. While you waited for him you tried to dry up your tears to improve your current condition, but to no avail; eyes still red and puffy and some tears still escaping.

“Are you bri-bringing me home?” You brokenly say between gasps.

“No. What happened?” Sae’s eyes stay fixed on the road, raindrops fall on the windshield, ironic how the weather matches your mood.

He snaps his fingers in front of you, bringing you back to earth so you start to tell him what happened.

“I know I must sound so-so dumb but-“ Gasps keep interrupting you “I feel like a failure. Maybe I am.” You look at him, your vision is foggy due to the new tears, but this time he looks back at you. You didn’t even notice he stopped the car, now off the road.

But what it comes to surprise you. No harsh words, no sarcasm.

Sae hugs you, hands patting your back.

“Everyone fails, even cyborg guys like me. Everything can be fixed and a little misstep on the road doesn’t define you as a person.” He pulls away, face relaxed, and goes back to driving.

“One hamburger and a chips portion.”

Were you parked in a fast-food lot? You were so out of your mind and outside is so dark that you didn’t notice. You have been silent, still recovering from the hug and those words that sounded so encouraging and not like Sae at all.

“Why the chips? You don’t like them.” It’s the first thing you are able to blabber, at least you didn’t stutter anymore.

“This isn’t for me. It’s for you.” The redhair says putting the paper bag on your legs “Junk food can be nice once in a while. And stop crying-“ the back of his curled index finger swipes away a lone tear running down your face “I hate looking at ugly stuff and tears reduce you to a really ugly mess.”

Ah, the old Sae is back. You can finally recognize him, with all his rude comments. But something inside you blossoms while he drives you back home and you bite into your hamburger.

Does it mean he finds you beautiful every other time? You feel blood running to your face for a minute you hear a whistle in your ears, but you impose yourself not to bash your head around it. Now you have to find a nice way to explain the situation to Elisa without making her worried sick and hide who brang you home to avoid her dumb smile and endless teasing that would come your way. You look outside the car window, mind already wandering somewhere else.

In the end, Elisa discovered everything, for sure Sae insisting on bringing you inside crumbled to pieces your plan, and your mood was too devasted to be able to efficiently hide your feelings. At least your attention wasn’t on the football star anymore.

Your mind already planned to think about them for the next weeks anyway.

Today. Night

“I suppose the date didn’t go as planned.” Sae doesn’t move, no intention of shielding your body under the umbrella.

“No, but it was my fault.” ‘Because I’m in love with you’ you add in your brain. “You want to know what happened?”

“Not really.”

“Bad for you because I’ll tell you anyway.” You joke between gasps. Sae doesn’t move away but he keeps looking down on you. “He was so nice, he took me to the restaurant and even wanted to pay. The small talk was incredible and we have a lot in common-“ You look down, not able to keep his gaze “But my heart is for someone who considers me barely a friend-“ Your hands now cover your face “And then when I arrived here to cry in peace a couple walked in front of me being all cute and I crumbled.”

“It could have been us.”

“Umh?” You can finally gaze back into his eyes, liquid fury while looking down at you.

“Who is the guy you have a crush for? The loser-“

“It’s you. You are the loser.” Your brain still struggles to phantom what is happening. You were freezing cold a few minutes ago, you couldn’t feel the apex of your fingers, but now you don’t feel anything.

But something inside Sae’s mind clicked before yours, the umbrella waving left and right, the grip on it clearly loosened.

“You are an imbecile.” His words are sharp knives on your body, but you can’t grasp in pain because something is pressing on your lips.

Sae is kissing you, his cold hands gripping you by the collar of your dress to keep you close, raindrops fall down from his cheeks to yours, the umbrella is left abandoned in a bush, the wind tearing it apart.

“For how long?” He pulls you up from the bench, his right hand gripping yours while the left one is on your back.

“The exam fail.” You whisper almost in a trance “And you?”

“Let’s go home-“ He starts to run out from the park, calling for a cab to bring you both to, you suppose, your house. You notice him looking around, probably searching for a place to shield your bodies from the rain; not that you have much to protect anymore both wet from head to toe.

“It has been longer...Sae! That’s why you have always teased me.” You finally laugh shivers of cold and joy running down your back. “Sae!” You shout stopping in your tracks. Sae turns back but doesn’t have time to snap at you, this time it’s you kissing him. Your hands go to caress his cheeks, one hand sliding a bit back to scratch the back of his neck. You probably nailed the right point, because you hear him moan into your mouth. His hands slide lower caressing your waist to your hips, but never brave enough to go to your backside.

Or better, when you feel him sliding closer…

“Mister Itoshi, come in the car!” his driver came to pick you up, using the horn two times to announce his presence.

Sae looks at him, gnashing his teeth before looking back at you, his expression getting softer again. “Let’s go” he kisses you in between your eyebrows before pulling you towards his car.

“Okay, but you’ll have to tell me when you fell in love with me.” You feel the hold on your hands tightening, no need to look at his face to understand what’s going on in his head.

Maybe he’ll kiss you dumb to make you forget about that. Maybe he’ll be brave enough to propose showering together…your mind starts to daydream, maybe he won’t have the courage and you’ll have to take the reins, but one thing is sure.

You’ll both be happy.

#bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk imagines #blue lock imagines #itoshi sae #sae x reader #sae itoshi x reader #bllk x you #blue lock x you

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fangirl-dot-com · 4 months

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Carlos Sainz - You don’t like spicy food?! Then why the heck do they call you Chili?

Aw guys imma cryyyy – this is the last part of Besties for the Resties. I have enjoyed every single moment of writing these. Sorry if the last few ones were short, I’ve been using all of my brain power for finals and for the Christmas chapter! That one is going to be a doozy and I’m hoping it’ll hit almost 10k words: because y’all deserve some good writing!

I honestly don’t know when this story is set. I have tried to write all of these for races before the summer break. So that being said, on my master list I am not writing a chapter for the Barca Grand Prix – so this chapter will be during that time!

For one last time for this series – I hope you all enjoy!

[TAG LIST IS CLOSED]

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The sun beat down on the top of your head as you lounged and napped in the hotel pool. The Spanish Grand Prix was right around the corner, but you had time to relax and get your tan on. The water lapped at your limbs, cooling you off as the sun felt as though it was getting hotter.

Kelly had told you time and time again to put on sunscreen so that you wouldn’t burn. You definitely did not want to drive a Formula 1 car with sunburn. At least you weren’t as fair as Max was. You thought that he was a vampire or something. His skin automatically turned pink if he was outside too long. You guessed that’s why he always wore his Red Bull Cap.

Quiet splashes sounded at the opposite end where you knew Kelly and Penelope were playing. It was nice to hear their giggles as they tossed a beach ball around. To your left, however, you could hear the men talking about the cars and whatever part made more downforce, which was close to bringing you out of your light sleep.

Apparently when booking the hotels, Red Bull and Ferrari had decided to get rooms at the same place. Which led to you, Penelope, Kelly, and Max finding Carlos and Charles already at the pool. You were glad that they were pretty good friends, because if it had been Esteban, well, you shivered at what might have happened.

You were a bit bummed that the other drivers’ hotels were much farther away. Because you would have asked Lando, Oscar, and George to come over as well. You had already asked Daniel, hoping that Alpha Tauri would have placed him with you and Max. But sadly, he had his own hotel where he was staying with Heidi. Which made sense, if your significant other was here, you’d want to stay with him too.

You tried to block out any conversations about the cars, but they were getting too loud. You sat up on your floaty as you looked around. Your eyes adjusted to the bright light after having been closed for a while.

“Good morning,” Max laughed as he looked at your discombobulated appearance.

You groaned as you sunk into the water, cooling off the rest of your body. The three of them just laughed as you swam over to the stairs. Pulling yourself up, you stepped onto the warm tile and made your way over to where they were sitting. You took the offered towel from Charles and wrapped it around your shoulders.

“How are you not burnt?” Max questioned, shocked at your skin that was void of any redness.

Your shoulders raised before dropping, “Genes? Also you woke me up. Do you have to be talking about the upgrades.” You grumbled, sunglasses hiding your closed eyes as your head tipped back.

A scoff left his lips, brows furrowed under his bucket hat. “You needed to wake up anyway. You’re going to ruin your sleep schedule.”

“More than it’s already ruined,” Charles pipped, looking at the shared laptop on the table.

You turned your head and looked at Max, “Can we order food and drinks or something?”

Max nodded, getting his phone out. You told him what you wanted, but were interrupted with a scoff from Carlos. Max turned, looking a bit annoyed.

“Everything all right mate?” Charles asked, trying to diffuse the situation. What the three of you didn’t see was Carlos looking at the menu on his phone.

His eyes widened as he realized what he had done. He quickly held up his phone. “I was scoffing at the menu. Everything seems too spicy.” Max melted back into his chair, but you were completely confused.

“You don’t like spicy food? Then why the heck do they call you Chili?” Max and Charles laughed at your question. “What? I’m just super confused.”

Carlos let out a laugh of his own. “No chica. A fan gave me a hat that had chili peppers on it. I guess it just stuck. Kind of like your name.”

You crossed your arms. “It’s my manager’s fault. He’s the one that started calling me kid in the first place. Then Christian somehow found how, then Max, then my strategist, and now everyone calls me that.”

Charles pondered for a moment before speaking, “And why is that?”

You pouted, “Cause in Formula 4 I was the shortest there, and Vito said I looked like a kindergartener who snuck into the middle schooler’s field trip.”

The three men started to laugh while you continued to pout.

“It’s really not that funny,” you pouted. “So why are we talking about upgrades? We’re supposed to be enjoying this relaxing time.” You leaned back into your chair, closing your eyes once again.

Charles started, “Well, on our cars they seem to be doing much better this year with pace, but it’s still not as fast as we’d like it to be.”

You hummed, thinking about what it could be. “It could just be the balance distribution on the corners and such.” You leaned forward again, now hunched over as you looked at the laptop. Your head jutted toward Max. “How much are we allowed to help.”

“As long as we don’t talk about specifics of the car, then we have free range, oh – thank you,” Max was replying but got cut off by a waiter with the food that was ordered.

Drinks were passed around as well as lunches. You quickly grabbed one of your tacos and bit into it. The juices ran down your mouth as you tried to wipe it away. A towel was quickly thrust in your direction. You nodded in a thanks as you swallowed and wiped your chin.

“So, does the car feel unbalanced in the corners?” you questioned to the two Ferrari drivers.

“Non, the car feels good. Our pace is just not where we want it.”

You thought for a moment, “Then it might be the breaking or the overall strategy and tires. You two just need better strategists.”

Carlos ran a hand down his face. “That is what we have been trying to tell them. But every years it’s ‘Oh, they will get better’ but then they don’t.”

You nodded at this information, before taking another bite of your food. A thought popped into your head.

“Could be the new design of your front wings,” you paused before adding, “or the gearbox.”

“The gearbox,” Max said at the same time as you did.

Charles snapped his fingers as his head turned towards his teammate. “That might be it.”

You added, “If the gears don’t shift quickly or effectively, then you’re losing time in the laps instead of gaining. Especially when you downshift.”

Carlos looked at you with amusement, “You really know your cars.”

You shrugged as you took a drink of whatever fruity thing Max ordered you. “I thought about quitting F3 at one point to become an engineer for the cars.”

Max cocked his head. “Why didn’t you though?”

You smirked, “I kept winning.” Charles choked on his drink at your bluntness. “I also didn’t have enough money to go to school for a degree. Thought it would just be easier to continue.”

Charles gave you a sad-ish smile. He knew what it was like to not have enough money to really pursue your dreams. Arthur knew that even more so. He was honestly glad that you didn’t give up or were forced to quit. Then Arthur wouldn’t have met you, he wouldn’t have met you, and so on.

You brought him out of his thoughts, “Or the problem with your car might be just that you simply aren’t fast enough to catch us.” You shot the two rival drivers a wink before taking another sip.

Max shot you a wide smile. “That might be it as well.”

Carlos and Charles rolled their eyes, but both had a smile on their face. Once your food was finished, you stood up, making your way back to the pool. This time, it was Kelly and Penelope’s turn to get some food and drinks, and maybe a nap for P.

You turned to the three before you got in. “Can someone play mermaids with me?”

“No.”

Y/n.89 has posted

they wouldn't play mermaids with me

tagged: charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, and maxverstappen1

liked by arthur_leclerc, kellypiquet, and 95,204 others

landonorris if I was there, I would have played mermaids smh

y/n.89 its ok -Charles ended up playing with me and P charles_leclerc yeah, after you threatened ME

y/n-lover petition for Charles to play a mermaid in Barbie 2 if they make one

y/n.89 yes charles_leclerc NO

danielricciardo max got sunburned didn't he

kellypiquet yes y/n.89 that would be correct, lobster right now carlossainz55 he hasn't leaned back against his chair in 15 minutes

maxverstappen1 why does Charles get a good picture and I don't

y/n.89 CAUSE HE PLAYED MERMAIDS charles_leclerc yeah, I played mermaids - take that verstappen maxverstappen1 I will RUN YOU OFF THE TRACK christianhorner please do not

box_box_official this is just y/n's world and we're just living in it

AND THAT'S A WRAP - I LOVE YOU ALL!! ON TO THE REGULAR SHOW

AN: This will be the last chapter until Christmas!!

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eddiernunson · 9 months

Text

Really Drives Me Mad | EX-bfs dad!Eddie Munson x Reader | 18+

Previous Part | Master List | Next Part

Word Count: 10k

Warnings; degradation/praise, deep throating, eating out, edging

Author's note: Hope you don't mind but I made the reader both a swifitie and team Edward this chapter. I do appreciate all the love I've gotten for this fic. Here's part 3!

The general reaction you’ve received over the last two weeks was Are you out of your mind?

While Bethany heard you out on how it happened and why it felt like a sigh of relief being with Eddie, your mom lost her damn mind. As you spoke to her, you did your best to have a civil conversation until it just ended up being her lecturing you over the speaker while you finished up cleaning the dishes.

When she realizes you haven’t responded in a while and asks if you're still there, you pick up the phone from the window ledge and unmute yourself. “Mom, seems like you’re not interested in what I have to say about this, only about how it looks. Until you’re ready to listen, I’ll let you go.” Your finger hits the red hang up button, noting the time to the call being 45 minutes. You told her the situation about five minutes in and ever since, she had spent her time venting about Eddie and how irresponsible you were, as if she hadn't listened to anything you had to say about it.

“Are you sure you really thought this through?” Skyler, your roommate asks you as she brings her bowl over to you.

You huff, grabbing it from her and soaking it in the hot soapy water. “Thought what through?”

“You and him. Long term.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes at her. “Who said anything about this being long term? What if it’s just for now?”

“Is it just for now? Because you went into it with Dylan claiming all you wanted was someone to commit to you.” She pauses, and you look her in the eyes as if to say get on with it. “When you had someone fully committed, someone willing to stay in it for the long haul, you left him.”

“I didn’t get scared of his commitment, Sky!” You exclaimed, a little thrown off by it.

“Really? Because you were so eager to introduce him to literally anyone?” Skyler throws at you, and she had a point. Your hesitation in meeting Eddie had everything to do with the fact that Dylan was more committed to your relationship than you were.

You were literally every guy you had hooked up with before Dylan, getting angry that he would act like a boyfriend except for the life long stuff.

Fuck. What a hypocrite you were.

“Fine, his commitment scared me a bit.” You admit, washing one last dish before draining the sink. “But it’s not why I left him.”

“For his dad.”

You sigh, eyebrows raised at her tone. “Yes, for his dad.”

“Have you considered that when you’re his age, he’ll be in his 60s?”

“So?” You ask her, moving to the couch in the living room.

“That’s not a relationship built to last.”

“Why can’t that be up to us to decide?” You ask her, wrapping the throw blanket around you and tucking yourself into the couch. “Look, I get your concern. I truly do. From the outside, me and Dylan were doing everything right. Having adventures, going Instagram official. Then we were meeting the families, getting comfortable.” You pause, rubbing your hair out of your face. “If I was 19/20, I would completely understand. I mean, I wouldn’t, but if that were the scenario, your concern would make sense. But I’m not. I’m 25. My frontal lobe is fully developed. I know that if I get together with Eddie then he’ll always be 20 years older than me. He’ll always have a different perspective on life than I do.”

“You’ll always be tied to Dylan.” She points out.

“We dated for six weeks.” You counter, a pinch appearing between your brows. “While we haven’t discussed our long term goals, I don’t see this being casual. It’s different with him. Nothing feels off about being with him. I’ve never felt safer.”

She pauses, assessing your face and the way you relax as you start talking about Eddie. “Fuck. You’ve never seemed this relaxed when talking about Dylan. Not once.”

“I wasn’t.”

The comfort of Eddie’s chest breathing in and out underneath you as you lie right on top of him on the living room couch was soothing as you watched Twilight together. It took some convincing, but he let you press play on it and smirked over your shoulder at the blue filter.

No one had ever told him that the soundtrack was so good, though.

It was maybe a half hour into the movie, and Eddie couldn’t figure out why every guy in her school just had to have her. The smile on your face as you settled into a comfort movie was worth the watch, though.

You had texted him a few days prior, Eddie having given you his number before dropping you off at your apartment to face the real world. He was due back at his shop, having to settle management bullshit and deal with an unhappy customer or two to settle their complaints over the new apprentice. Ownership was nice, when they knew how to do their job.

When can I see you next?

When the six words lit up his screen, Eddie wanted to tell you to drive on over to his shop. He wanted to get in his truck and drive over to wherever the hell you are so he could text back Right Now. He knew your words were calculated, something not to seem too desperate to see him next, but truth be told, even if you were desperate it wouldn’t have made any difference; he was already hooked on you. He texted back to tell you the following Saturday, a day he knew he had no plans for the following day, so you could spend the night.

He felt fucking crazy for thinking it, but now that he'd had you in his bed, it felt too big without you.

Now here you lay with him, he sat in the corner of his couch while you snuggle up to him, and he could stay like this for hours, the sweet shampoo in his nose and the sound of your breaths comforting. He feels you slowly relax into him, all your body losing its tension. Occasionally, your arm would tighten around his torso or you would dig into him deeper. He appreciates the feeling, rubbing his fingers delicately along your skin.

The front door opens, and he feels you tense up as Dylan makes his way in. “Oh, great.” He mutters, and turns around to head straight up the stairs.

Your body jerks to watch him, and your eyes catch Eddie’s for a moment. “I’ll be right back.”

Eddie nods, seeing the fixed line your mouth made. He leans in to kiss you, an act of care more than anything else. You lean into it, your eyes closing automatically, breath hitching. “I’ll be here.”

The length up the stairs seemed to grow as you reached the top, this act something you have been dreading for days. Having told Bethany and Skyler about Eddie, they both felt bad for Dylan. In fact, your shitty attempt at an apology was met with a smack on the head with a nearby scrap paper by Sky. You knew Dylan deserved better. Fuck, did you know that.

Here you stand in front of his door, sounds of a tv show on in the background while he presumably plays on his computer. Dylan was more the type to create joy out of finding a new favourite hiking trail or to take an archery class, but Eddie has said he’s been cooped up in his room. He goes to work, comes home and says barely two words before retreating upstairs.

Not like you blamed him for it.

Before you could hesitate any longer, you finally knock on his door. The sounds of his keys stop, and you barely hear the footsteps towards the door over your own heartbeat. The door opens to Dylan, and the disappointment when he sees you is evident, his face hardening. “What?”

“Can I come in?”

He seems to think on this, and you hope the outfit you have chosen, jeans with an oversized sweatshirt and your hair in a messy bun helps with the psychology of it, but when it came down to it, it was his decision. “…Sure.” You light up in surprise, having expected to do the apologizing in his door frame. You follow him in, and it’s an awkward moment of silence before he goes to sit in his desk chair. “Have a seat, I guess.”

Your butt hits the edge of the bed, barely scraping the box spring. “Would it be cheesy if I recommended you listened to Speak Now, track 3?”

His eyebrows furrow, and it’s so like you to recommend a fucking Taylor song for the scenario. He has to laugh. “Taylor’s Version?”

“Of course.”

“Which is…?”

“Back To December.”

He tilts his head, this situation incredibly peculiar. “Remind me how that goes?”

A smile reaches your face, and you look at your lap sheepishly.

“She apologizes…and clearly admits she was in the wrong after a person treats her very well and didn’t deserve it.” You pause, looking up at him.

“A little bit.” He admits, but the first wall is down. The look in his eye when he sees you doesn’t scream rage.

“I can’t express how sorry I am for hurting you the way I did.” You start, watching for his reaction. “First, for stringing you along… But, you were the best looking guy at that mixer, and at that moment in time I truly did want to know you. None of that was fake.” He nods, considering this. “Then it started to feel, I don’t know, comfortable. I had people telling me how lucky I was to have you, daily, and with the men out there, god they were so right.” You gulp, and he can’t seem to look you in the eye. “I felt like there must’ve been something wrong with me not to be head over heels for you, cause there wasn’t anything wrong with you.”

“When did you know you wanted to break up with me?”

“I can’t say for sure.” You tell him, and it was probably about two weeks ago, but that felt cruel. “But the moment we got back into your car I should’ve ended things.”

“You knew about him that fast, huh?” He asks you, his eyes appearing glossy. “You know, if you would’ve been honest I would have been absolutely choked, confused even, but I would have given you his number.”

You nod, because of fucking course Dylan would’ve been nice enough. “See, you’re so kind because that never occurred to me. I thought you would’ve dropped me off at home.”

“Probably.” Dylan admits, thinking about the possibilities if you’d broken up with him earlier. “Maybe not.”

“I’m so sorry for cheating on you, though. Of course, knowing your mom’s history shouldn’t have made a difference but—”

“Yeah. Kind of fucked me up.” Dylan leans back in his chair, and a smile reaches his face as he looks back to you.

“I know that if me and Eddie keep dating that I could never, ever even remotely be a parental figure, and frankly I’m not looking to be your mom, but I hope one day you can trust me again.”

“See, how do I know you won’t do the same thing to him?”

It hurt, but it was fair. “You made me feel safe. But your dad—” he cringes, “Eddie, he makes me feel free.”

Dylan turns around in his chair, considering this. “I believe that.”

“Wait, you do?”

“Yeah. When I walked in today sure, I was annoyed. Seeing my ex girlfriend in a new happy relationship with the person she cheated on me with is kind of annoying. But you were never that comfortable with me. That look of…contentment. I’ve never seen it before.” He sighs, doing another turn in his chair.

“Have you and your dad spoken about it?”

“No. I’m pretty fucking mad at him. I’ll forgive him, one day. If you’re sticking around, I'll have to, because I’m not staying with my mom and her new perfect family. But we dated for six weeks. I was only starting to think I was falling in love with you. Thank god I never got there. Even then.”

“Don’t put all the blame on him.” You jump to his defense, and wow, did this sound bad. “I made the first move.”

“Good to know.” He pauses. “That’s all I want to know, for the record. No more details… I've heard enough.”

“I am sorry, though Dylan. In another universe, we date and I let you down properly and you meet your dad’s girlfriend a few weeks later who turns out to be your ex.” You laugh, just picturing it.

“Sounds like a rom com.”

“Honestly it’s an intriguing concept.” You get up from his bed, the conversation having met its end.

“I can’t forgive you, yet. But that was the fucking apology I deserved the first time.”

You cringe at it, this memory is something you can already see haunting you at 3am.

“Can we pretend like that one never happened?”

“No. It’s great material to have in a back pocket. Who apologizes to their ex with brand new hickeys on their neck?"

“Okay, point taken!” You yell at him as you walk out the door.

“Bye.” He calls out, and the door shuts behind you.

You meet Eddie back at the couch, the movie paused while he scrolls through his phone. “What are you scrolling on?” You tease him, sitting easily back where you were before.

“Oh the uh, Facebook videos.” He says off-handedly, and you roll your eyes. “What?”

“Who uses Facebook nowadays?” You joke, knowing full you still updated yours occasionally.

He chuckles, nipping at your shoulder. You grab the remote by his leg, pressing play. “How did it go?”

“Better.” You sigh, watching Bella awkwardly ask him to hang out at the beach. “Much, much better. Doesn’t scream pure hatred in his face every time he looks at me anymore.”

“Makes one of us.” Eddie jokes, and you grab his hand to place a kiss, comforting him.

The movie continues, and Eddie has never fully paid attention to the movie before, having come out in his late 20s. It was ridiculous, to say the least. The plot thickens as Bella discovers his true nature and Eddie can't help but notice a particular smile creep on your face as Edward mutters something about a lion falling in love with a lamb. Creepy.

“Do-do you have a crush on Edward?” He asks, his voice particularly bewildered.

Your eyes bug out, and you bite back the smile breaking out on your face with much failure.

“What? No.”

“Oh, you totally do.” Eddie chuckles, shaking his head.

“Shut up.”

Another five minutes pass and your stomach rumbles, prompting Eddie to get up and walk to the kitchen to make you something. “Want something with chicken, rice, spice, what do you want, baby?” He calls out, and you now stare openly at the tv as the baseball scene is showing, and you’ve always considered Edward just to be a bit extra hot in this scene.

His question takes a moment to register. “Butter chicken?” You ask him.

He peeks his head out to the music on the screen, and immediately sees the look on your face. A big smile is plastered on your face, chin resting on your fingertips as you sit cross legged. Fucking. Teenage Vampires. He rolls his eyes, rejecting the jealousy. He isn't going to be jealous over this. Nope.

He finishes the food, putting a bowl out for you, Dylan, and himself out. “Dylan! Food if you want it!” He calls out, and he brings two of the bowls for you and him, the smell of his cooking more than welcome. “Here baby.” He kisses your forehead, sitting next to you as you take a big inhale.

“Holy shit, thank you, Ed.” You tell him, and Eddie is perplexed at your ability to forget to eat a single thing until the hunger pains kick in. He supposes his food habits at 25 weren’t the greatest, either. Now that he thinks about it, he pretty much lived off energy drinks, coffee, and the occasional hot food Wayne would force down his throat.

You inhale the food, the empty bowl on the coffee table within minutes. “Want more?” You’re hypnotized by the screen, having barely heard him. Why did he want to fight a seventeen-year-old vampire? “Baby?”

“Hmm?”

“Want more?”

“Oh sure! Thank you.” The shine in your eyes brightens up as you look up at him, and it settles his jealousy. For the most part.

Eddie scoops himself and you another bowl, seeing Dylan hasn’t grabbed his yet. “Dylan! Food’s getting cold! Come eat!”

Dylan comes out, actually looking like he was in a better mood than he was before.

“Oh, shit, Twilight?” He comments, shaking his head. “She’s a hard Team Edward girl. Hard.”

“I’ve noticed. Here.” Eddie would’ve usually taken the win from his son joking with him but the jealousy that sat eating his gut was so fucking annoying. Why the fuck was he so annoyed at this stupid vampire?

“Oh it's not so fun now, is it?” Dylan calls out, running back up the stairs.

This makes Eddie smile, like things might go back to normal. The screaming match with him after you had left made him believe he truly severed his relationship with him, but this gave him an inch of hope.

Eddie gives you the second serving and you tear through it again, leaving the bowl in front of you empty. As Eddie finishes his own, he starts to lean into you, placing delicate kisses on the little exposed skin you provided for him today. He moves you so you’re lying on top of him.

The movie is about to end, Bella waking up in a hospital with frankly, an off-putting delivery of the lines she was given. His hands make their way up past the hem of your sweater, reaching to touch some skin as he continues. A pinch makes its way in between your eyebrows down at him. “What’s this about?”

“Nothing. Just wanted to touch you.” You don't believe him, but you also don't mind the touches, as they were certainly doing their job as far as foreplay goes, so you lean back into him. Just when Eddie thought the end was near there’s a whole-ass prom scene and he nearly groans in frustration. Your legs intertwine with his, and he gets a sneaky idea, peering over your shoulder to move his leg over the teensiest bit.

He moves his leg as if he was lifting one leg to rest on its foot. He moves it a bit faster than necessary, aiming for where your ass sat lower than normal on his body.

As his knee jerks into your cunt, you gasp, a heat having already gathered from the movie alone, his teasing doing nothing to help.

“Shit, sorry baby. Was just trying to move my leg.” One look at his face tells you it was a bold-faced lie and you give him an exasperated look. “What?” A series of shots that didn’t make the movie at the end show and Eddie rolls his eyes. “Prick.” He mutters under his breath to an image of Edward on the screen.

“What was that?” You ask him, unsure you even heard him right. “Eddie, were you jealous?” You ask incredulously, the very idea of it is just bizarre.

“What? No!” Eddie dismisses it far too quickly, but the satisfaction as he turns the tv off is too much to deny.

“Eddie! He’s a fictional character. You do realize you share the same name, right?” Eddie rolls his eyes, slightly ticked off he let himself get caught being jealous. You crawl up to his face, the knee against your cunt having left a throb of more want. “Besides, there’s nothing to be jealous of.” You lean in to kiss him, still lying on top of him. As you tilt your head to deepen it, Eddie feels weak as your tongue meets his own and the way you’re gasping into his open mouth is filthy. “Nothing.” You emphasize, biting on his bottom lip.

Eddie bites back a moan, his eyes rolling back as your teeth linger. You frame his face, kissing along the path of his stubble, his gorgeous jaw line, his freckled neck, the dip of his collarbone.

You pause, taking a quick pause to suck on the collarbone lightly, biting into it to make one little claim of your own. You sit back on it, admiring the way it's already started to bruise. You continue, your hand absentmindedly moving his shirt up his torso so you could kiss your way down. You lick across a nipple, and his chest stunts in response. Down his torso you go until you meet the treasure of all treasure trails. You pause, inhaling at the scent, and the musk intoxicates you so much that you can’t help yourself, licking at it. Fuck.

Finally, you get to his jean waistband, and you tug twice, making sure it's okay. Eddie moves to unbutton it for you, and you swat him away. “I wanna do it.” You tell him, picking up where he left off. You tug the jeans off, your fingers hooked meticulously so his boxers come off with them.

His cock springs free and you look up to his face. By now Eddie has lost all clear thought, and he’s sure it started the moment you started working on his collarbone. Somehow it just got better and better as you went further down, every touch of your tongue against his skin sending fucking waves through him. But the look of…elation that you give him as you free his cock, like you couldn’t believe you get to be so lucky to suck on it, had him in pure ecstasy.

You leaned in to take a long swipe on it, a slow lick from the base to the tip, and his cock is nearly down your throat before he could even register it. Relentlessly, you bob your head, fist gripping what you can't fit. You hear him swear loudly, and you let go with a popping sound. His hand finds its way to your face, framing it. You peer up at him, and his half opened eyes and a disbelieving smile gives you an unmatched sense of pride.

“Holy shit.” He mutters, his thumb crossing your bottom lip slowly.

You smile, lifting his hand from your face and into your hair, curling your fist over his so he would grip it tightly. You go back to work, mouth watering as you continue to bob up and down. Eddie slowly starts pushing on your head, forcing you to take a little bit more of him at a time. Your gag reflex fights it, and he can feel it.

“Relax your throat baby.” He whispers. “Just relax it.” You think about it, letting the tense muscles of your jaw and attempting to swallow the spit to soften. He can feel a shift, his cock still in the heat of your mouth. “Oh, good girl.”

He thrusts his hips up, and his cock finds itself down your throat, a feat you’ve never been able to accomplish before. The base of his cock meets your nose, and he stops, watching you adjust as tears come to your eyes from the stinging. “Holy shit, good fucking girl.” He mumbles, sweeping his hand through your hair. “So good.”

He pulls on your scalp so you move up and back down a few times, and you find it impossibly easy to submit yourself to him, allowing him to fuck your throat.

Eddie guides you off his cock, you look up at him for his appraisal and he frames your face to wonder how he was so lucky as he looks at your cocked-out eyes. “Oh, what a good little slut.” He mutters, pulling you up to his face.

You crawl up eagerly, and he kisses you gently, not chaste, but not quite as dirty as before. He breaks away, still connecting your foreheads. “Let’s go upstairs, yeah?”

You nod readily; lust filled eyes staring back into his. You wait patiently for him to put his jeans back over on his cock and make your way back up the stairs to his room.

As soon as his door is shut Eddie rids himself of his clothes, and you end up watching from his bed eagerly, enjoying the show. He dives onto the bed, and a squeal of giggles involuntarily leaves your throat at the wild eyes captivating his face. He dives down to kiss you, his tongue delicious against your own and he sucks on it, luring a whimper right out of you. One of his hands rubs against your thigh, and this pair of pants wasn’t something he could feel you up through. Eddie’s thumb messaged extra rough, and the touch alone manages more whimpers.

“Touch me.” You choke out, breathing heavily, breathing him. “Please.”

Eddie grins, both his hands working down to unbutton the tight jeans you wore. A hand slips in and starts to tease along the slick of your folds and your breath hitches as Eddie focuses on making you feel good. He rubs them in small circles, the touch light but enough to give you release. You can tell he isn't necessarily driving you towards an orgasm and it drives a laugh of impatience out of you against his lips.

“Baby” You whine, “Fuck.” You couldn’t even put words to it, because somehow you knew he’d find a way to twist it.

Eddie leans into your neck, the heat of his cruel laughter closing your eyes. “Oh, you wanted me to touch you and get off? Well why didn’t you say so?”

The pressure increases, a defined difference in his touch as he rubs against your clit, and the sounds he draws from you was worth the tease. He hikes your oversized sweater up, revealing skin and your bra, and as his fingers move absentmindedly he kisses your stomach with light tongue, the wet warmth sending shivers up your body as the feeling in your tummy starts to pool.

He sits up suddenly, and you whimper from the loss. He chuckles at this, pride in how pathetic he can make you feel. “Aww, poor baby.” He mocks you, and your eyebrows furrow in slight embarrassment. “It’s okay, I know you just wanna cum…gonna get you to cum all over my face.” His hands tug on your jeans, and he barely needs any help from you to yank them off, unceremoniously throwing them onto the floor. “Oh, fuck, finally.” He mutters as he sees your pussy, prettier than he remembered when he jacked himself off in the shower this morning.

He leans in, sucking on your clit and the heat expands from it into your legs and the feeling in your stomach doubles. From no release to every bit, you could already feel the knot threatening to snap. “Holy shit, fuck.” You mutter, your thighs clamping against him.

He feels the intensity in your body shift, continuing to suck on your clit rhythmically. Your breathing increases, and Eddie slowly sucks harder, and harder, and as your heels dig in his upper back, he stops.

An audible whine leaves you, the edge just right there. “Fuck, Ed.” You whimper, somehow knowing it was on purpose.

He chuckles, watching your beautiful cunt react as well. “I know, baby, I know.”

“I was so close.”

“Imagine how good it’ll feel when you do cum, yeah?” He teases, still watching your face. Your leg muscles spasm and the kisses he trails down your thigh are no help.

You whine again, toes curling and the extra fabric of your sweater self consciously curls up around your fists. “Ed.”

“I know.” He says one last time, and goes in for the kill.

There was really no delay this time, the edge was only a step away and he pushed you over, his fingers fucking into you and tongue working over time on your clit, a heat into an explosion as your legs shake and pussy spasms. Eddie pays close attention to it, admiring the glisten of your slick coating you, dripping to your ass and on his sheets and it's a piece of art.

Eddie kisses one last time against your clit, crawling back up to you to assess. “Sweetheart?”

You smile lazily at him, the orgasm having left a smile on your face and a glow amongst your features. “Hmm?”

“Wanna fuck still?” He asks, his hand petting your face softly.

Your eyes fucking light up, nodding enthusiastically. He chuckles, moving the sweater slowly up and over your head. He moves around your torso, single handedly unhooking your bra, revealing those gorgeous tits.

He looks like heaven above you, a shadow of stubble, brown eyes darkened as he takes you in, and the lust in his eyes sends a pool of wetness between your legs. Your legs open, and he sits himself between them, kissing the nearest skin he can as he puts his cock into you.

Your legs close on the feeling, mouth falling open in a silent moan. God, what a sight.

You sleepily look up at him as he puts his chest on yours, just drinking in the moment of him in you. He does the same, your hands framing his face.

He kisses you, slow and sweet. “So, so, good, Ed.” You manage out between them, sighing up at him.

He moves back a bit, thrusting into you lightly and you whimper into his mouth. He separates himself to get a good look as he continually fucks into you, and your mouth is open in unspoken words. Too fucking good.

“I know baby, I know.” He tells you. He kisses your neck, down your throat and down to a tit bouncing lightly from the impact of his cock fucking into you. He latches his tongue onto the nipple, your pussy tightening around him in response. He grazes his teeth lightly, mewls leaving your throat at the sheer pleasure mixed with pain and he lets go.

He leans up from you, taking one of your legs and placing it against his shoulder up towards the ceiling and you can feel him deeper, his thrusts starting to hit harder. Your moans are interrupted by each thrust. “Ed. So. Good. Fuck.”

His hand gently caresses your leg on his shoulder, focusing on the warmth of your pussy engulfing him. “Oh, tight pussy. So fuckable.”

“Yours.” You whine out.

“Oh, that’s right. My pussy.”

“All yours.” You choke out.

“Oh that’s fuckin right. You’re mine. All mine. My good fuckable slut.”

The words hit the right spot, making your eyes roll back. “Fuck, Ed. Cum in me.”

“Yeah, wanna be filled with me?"

“Mmhmm…”

“Oh fuck.” Eddie reaches his high faster than he was expecting, his hips jerking into you and the feeling of his cock pulsating while it spurts inside you is everything.

Eddie pants, lightly pushing your leg off his chest. He leans forward to give you a kiss, his body covered in sweat, the slick smell being something you need to memorize. “Holy shit, sweetheart."

You giggle, your legs holding him there. “Stay a while?”

“Love to cockwarm, huh, baby?”

“Only with you,” You mutter, a yawn leaving you. And if it was anything like the first time, you’ll be asleep within minutes. “So full.”

He chuckles, turning on the tv next to his bed. He tugs the blanket out from under you and pulls it over the two of you. You snuggle into his arms as he wraps them around you. “You know, we can cuddle without—” Eddie starts.

“No, no. That’s crazy talk.” You interrupt him, and he feels a smile up against his chest.

As you fall asleep, you hear one last thing from him, something you don’t think you were supposed to hear. “Beat that, you sparkly fucker.”

Somehow, the power of making Eddie jealous over a fictional vampire didn’t go straight to your head, but goddamn it felt good to be this wanted.

The tickle of the sheet against your abdomen comes to mind as you wake up on your side, calf in between Eddie’s legs and your face buried in his chest. His snoring is gentle but deep, his arm lazily wrapped around you. You figure he eventually got himself out of you, the subtle loss something you probably whined at.

You feel a smile creep its way onto your face, the satisfaction of waking up how you did fills your lungs with air. You peer your head back to get a look at his face, relaxed and unguarded, even from sex. Your eyes take in every detail of his handsome face, the slight hook of his nose, the stray hairs by his left eyebrow, the freckles scattered… God, he is beautiful.

You lean in to kiss his jawline, nuzzling your nose into the scratch of his stubble. The arm around your torso flexes, a snore interrupted. A huff of laughter escapes you, the simplicity of it just so mesmerizing. He shifts slightly, arm tightening around you as he adjusts himself. You cuddle yourself closer into his chest, inhaling the scent that was unmistakably him. No cologne, deodorant or aftershave disguising it. The smell alone makes you shudder in happiness.

You lay breathing him in for another thirty minutes before he finally stirs awake.

When he finally does, eyes squinting around as he blinks awake, arms flexing away as he yawns and stretches, you lay there patiently as he gets his bearings.

“Fuck.” His arms go limp, and he buries himself into your hair, breathing in the scent. “How long—” he yawns, cutting himself off. “How long have you been awake?”

Your shoulders shrug, and he huffs out a breath of laughter. He feels your stomach grumble against his. “Long enough, huh.” He kisses into your hair, giving you one last good squeeze. “Alright, let’s go get some food.”

You protest getting out of bed with him but the second growl your stomach makes, this one even more audible, has Eddie give a look to say it wasn’t debatable. Food first.

Down the stairs, you sit in a pair of shorts with the same over sized sweater at the kitchen island, chewing happily on the food Eddie prepared for you, a fucking snack tray. He put it in front of you, and you look up at him with an eyebrow raised peculiarly. “I fucking love snacks.” He says, grabbing a slice of cheese off your tray.

Dylan jogs into the kitchen, stealing a cracker off your plate as he dashes around the counter. “Going out with friends, be back later.” He looks dressed up for a bar, an outfit you knew he would wear to impress. It's a weird thought that you know him like this.

“Don’t be stupid, don’t drink and drive.” Eddie tells him, leaning forward on the island.

“Got it!”

“Was that good or bad, I couldn’t tell.” You ask him when the front door closes.

“I wouldn’t go towards either. He’s being civil for the sake of you but he’s much more pissed when you’re not here. Trust me.” Eddie answers you, eyes wide at the end of the sentence.

A pang of guilt hits you square in the chest. He sees your expression falter, giving you a soft look. “Don’t feel guilty. I deserve it. He damn well has a right to act this way when I betrayed him.”

Fuck, that was a level of emotional maturity you weren’t used to seeing in men. Threw you for a loop.

“So, sweetheart. I got a question for you.” You perk up, leaning towards him at the opposite end of the island counter. “Will you allow me to take you out on a proper date?”

The sentence drives your heart wild, your stomach turning itself inside out. You nod your head rapidly, gulping. “When?”

“Well it’s four o’clock now…if I drive you home so you can get ready we could probably make our 7 o’clock reservation.”

Now you find yourself in your bathroom, your makeup scattered across the counter as you dance to an upbeat playlist, your quick glance to the clock indicating you still have an hour before he comes to pick you up at 6:45.

You're driving yourself mad with the want to outdo yourself, you want a visual reaction from this man. He was kind enough to let you know it was more upscale, but that was all the detail he was willing to provide to you. You knew your initial reaction to wear something to rile him up wasn’t any good, and the warning he had given you had driven you to believe he knew you well enough to know you would if he hadn’t.

You hear the front door of the apartment close, Skyler getting home from day working at a cellphone carrier store. She hated the dumb customers but loved the commission she made when she sold plans. She places her things down, making her way straight to the bathroom to where the blaring music could be heard. “Going out somewhere?” She asks, slightly yelling to be heard over the music.

You reach to the Bluetooth speaker, turning down the volume a few notches. “Hot date with Eddie!” You tell her excitedly, leaning in to finish the last of the eyeliner.

“Oh, I didn’t know you had one planned!”

“Neither did I! He told me about the reservation just like an hour ago after he dropped me off.”

“Just like that?” She asks, leaning in.

You pause the movement of your brush on your face, using some setting powder for a final touch. “Just like that.”

Her eyebrows raised to her forehead quickly. “Okay, damn. That’s…that’s romantic.”

A smile lands on your face, and you close it to prevent the wider smile making its way to prevent teasing. “Mmmhmm.”

Face setting spray finishes your face before you run to your room to do the most daunting thing about getting ready…picking out your outfit.

It has to be something your ex hasn't taken off you either. There goes that hot blue little dress, and this green strappy number, and that really cute skirt…damn this might be harder than you thought. You used a lot of secret weapons from your arsenal with Dylan.

“I’m out of clothes!” You yell to your roommate, frustrated out of your mind.

“You still haven’t used that pretty dress you bought last month…the one still with a tag on it?” She calls out, referring to a dress you found that fit you perfectly but didn’t have anything to wear it for.

“That one is for special occasions!”

“Bitch, your boyfriend made spontaneous dinner date plans for your first date. It’s a special occasion, wear the damn dress!”

As it cascades down your body as you place it over your head, it couldn’t have been more perfect.

Sitting in your living room while waiting to be picked up should not be this jittery, butterflies doing a little dancey-dance in your stomach as Skyler absentmindedly binge-watches Buffy. You sent Eddie your address at his request about ten minutes ago, and now it's just a waiting game.

Three knocks at the door find you standing in a second, tripping over your own feet to get to the door. You open it to him, standing there with a single red rose. He's dressed in a gorgeous leather outdoor jacket, one only a man as fine as he is could pull off as well as he does and still make it look classy. He wears a pair of slacks with a dark red button down tucked loosely into it, the first three buttons undone.

Something tells you he’ll be moving his sleeves up his arms later. Fuck. He has never looked hotter.

“Hi, gorgeous. Ready?”

You nodded frantically, picking the open jacket up from the coatrack you had placed conveniently by the door. You turn back to face to your roommate to tell her not to wait up and face her, her mouth wide open. “I see it now.” She whispers, her jaw dropping again.

Your eyebrows raise to her in response but a glare reaches as your face as you turn around, something in you stupidly angry about this. Good. Look from afar.

The drive down is filled to the brim with unbridled anticipation, neither one saying much as you watch the pretty lights pass by on the way to the unspecified restaurant.

He places his hand on your thigh, thumb caressing it gently. Your dress is just long enough for his pinky to touch your leg but the rest lay on the soft material. “You look gorgeous, by the way.” He compliments you, and you suddenly realize he’s barely watching the road.

“Hmm.” You answer, nodding at the road. “My heart stopped when I opened the door, you are unfairly handsome.”

“Unfairly?” Eddie asks, voice incredulous at your word choice.

“Mmhmm.”

He chuckles, suddenly making a left turn into a group of scattered restaurants and your breath hitches, wondering, no.

Holy fuck, it is.

He pulls up and you’re peering up at what is known as the most expensive restaurant in town, the kind of place you only went with when your parents were celebrating an anniversary or something and were paying.

The kind of place that had good ass food, but you need to be able to pay minimum, 100 per person. The wine is automatically served, and the only music is a light piano melody. “Wanted to take you out for a treat. Somewhere I know damn well men your age can’t afford.”

That sentence alone drenches the lacy panties you wore.

He walks to your side after getting out, opening the door for you. The act isn’t much, something a man or two has done before him, but from him, it was like a goddamn touch of Midas.

The low light and piano music engulfs you, the conversation low as you see everyone is dressed in their best. You find yourself intimidated but Eddie walks in like he belongs.

Cause he does.

He asks for a reservation under his last name, and the waitress finds it right away. You can’t help but notice the way her eyes light up and damn, you usually don’t describe yourself as the jealous type but when it comes to him it's hard not to be.

As you get to your booth, Eddie takes off his jacket, revealing his sleeves up to his elbows, and it’s literally mouth watering. He does it so swiftly, and before you can even sit, he holds his hand out for your jacket as well. You take it off to hand it over, which he hangs ever so gently over his jacket on the hook.

Your hostess asks for drinks, Eddie asks for the drink menu and some water, you ask for water as well, hoping to find a suitable cocktail when the menu comes along.

The low lighting is flattering on him sitting across from you, and all his attention is on you, even as his eyes roam the menu. The conversation flows effortlessly, and you finally ask Eddie for his story, something even through the lust you’ve had a desire to know.

He describes growing up in Hawkins, Indiana, a rebel without a cause with a touch for the dramatics and running a role play DnD group. He describes his struggles as he failed grade twelve twice due to a large population chalking it up to laziness when in reality no one listened to his inability to sit down long enough to learn anything. He tells you about this group of friends he made in his final and successful attempt at grade 12, the ones that eventually kicked his ass into gear and none of them he would’ve been here without, and though they were all older like him, you hoped one day you’d be lucky enough to meet them face-to-face.

His attempt at college, realizing it wasn’t for him and dropping out a semester in when a local mechanic he knew offered an apprenticeship spot at his garage.

2 years into it, he finds out he enjoys it and he made enough money to move out. At 22 he meets a woman who comes into his shop with a check engine light on, and that was how he met Dylan's mom. You fought so hard not to roll your eyes as he described building a life with her and finding out she was pregnant, but it was hard not to be jealous.

Apparently she was the perfect mom from the outside, her connection to her son was unbeatable. Eddie soon found out she was having an affair with one of her co-workers, the same one she had told him time and time again that, no, of course he didn’t have a crush on her, that’s silly.

(They were fucking the whole time.)

If anything, it was the reason he had let Dylan find out so quickly. An affair would’ve made it ten times worse.

He finishes off, describing how difficult it was to raise him after she ran off with the co-worker, eventually finding something that worked for them. All in all, he was proud of the person he had raised Dylan to become, hopeful for their relationship.

You hung onto every word he told you through that meal like he had hung the moon and the stars. As he finishes, wiping his hands on his napkin as he ate, your eyes fixated on his forearms flexing, he apologizes, claiming he felt bad for talking the whole time.

“Oh, I could listen to you for hours.” It falls out of your mouth before you could stop it.

“Well I’m sick of myself. Tell me about you.” He comments, so you did.

You tell him about being raised in the small town in rural America, being a teenager in the 2010s a slight difference than in the late 90s. Your stupid first boyfriend who dumped you as soon as he slept with you, your mom who meant well but often valued the opinions of others over her daughters needs and wants, your stoner of a best friend who had an opinion that you valued most of all, and how you met your current roommate through a facebook ad but it turned out you really clicked.

Your story had no beginning and no end, just going off your life based on what you felt like you had wanted to tell him.

“Dylan is a good boyfriend, by the way.” Eddie laughed at the absurdity of your sentence, all plates in front of you containing any food long gone while you had your third cocktail and Eddie drank some whiskey. Were you a bit tipsy? Yes. That sentence couldn’t have left your mouth without it. “After the lack of commitment on a stupid amount of dudes, his willingness to go all in, as we said that’s what we had both wanted, was exceedingly refreshing.” You took another gulp of it, the sugary drink hitting nicely. “He was stable, kind, thoughtful, but something was missing. In him I felt safety.” You pause, looking at him. “In you, I feel freedom.”

The conversation moved away from Dylan, thank God. As he asks for one more before the bill you can't help yourself. “Where do you see this going?” You gulp, scratching your nose, and paying close attention to your glass. “If you say anything other than long term, I might be sick.”

To Eddie, your level of honesty was refreshing. “Baby, anything but long-term has never been an option to me.”

Eddie gives his credit card to the waitress, a moon eyed girl who he had barely paid attention to. Either because he was being courteous with his attention or he just didn’t bother when you were right in front of him, it didn’t matter, but the thing itself gave you immense satisfaction. (It was the latter, for the record. Eddie had barely noticed her.)

As he helped you back into your jacket, slipping on his own, a feeling of intense satisfaction, pure bliss invaded your entire system. There was no first date that would ever be as good as this one. The set up, picking you up, the nice ass restaurant, the easy conversation, and lastly, the knowledge that when you got to his, he would be all over you, and you him.

Nothing was ever gonna be this good.

Good. You didn’t want anyone or anything but him.

Your head found his shoulder on the way back to his place, hands intertwined on your lap on the silent ride home, soft rock playing on his radio. As his truck reaches his driveway, you notice it's empty. Eddie picked up on this as your head perks up upon the observation.

“Asked if he could crash at a friend’s place tonight.” Eddie explains, having placed the truck in park, sitting back in his seat. “We got the place to ourselves.”

You grinned giddily, and you weren’t sure if it was the three and a half drinks or the troublesome feeling of your lacy panties being thoroughly soaked, but you were out his truck door before he could even register it. He climbs out, quickly shuffling behind you and he makes a giggle pour out of you as he scares you as you wait patiently at the door for him to unlock it.

He kisses your neck as he reaches in with one hand to unlock the door, and you open it and turn to him, yanking on the collar of his leather jacket. “Need you.” You mutter in between kisses, only in the entrance of the house but if you took another step without kissing him, you were gonna lose your mind. “Want. You.”

Your need is outrageously attractive, Eddie leaning into every kiss you've given him with the same amount of fervor, his hands holding your waist and fisting at the deliciously beautiful dress you had worn. You just had this dress? Waiting around? And you hadn’t blessed anyone with the perfect sight that was you dressed in it until now? What a goddamn sin.

It’ll be a shame when it hits the floor but this dress is only second to how goddamn good you looked naked as far as Eddie's concerned. Speaking of which…

Eddie continually kisses you, pulling you in against him, your breath hitches pulling your coat off and letting it fall to the floor. He backs you up to the stairs, and your foot hits the first step up, and as you’re starting to climb backwards Eddie pushes his body on yours, forcing you to sit. He takes it a step further by leaning in to kiss your neck, and your back falls onto the steps as well, just like he was hoping. Your legs open, welcoming his hips into yours.

Eddie only starts with soft kisses, just to smell your perfume and to feel your skin beneath his lips. “This dress, baby, this dress.” He pauses, a look of lust deep within his brown eyes. “Oh, fuck, this dress.” He couldn’t seem to tell you anything else, but you were thankful the gut feeling that told you to buy it was right. You tug on his collar, pulling it down his back to take it off.

Eddie assists you, letting the jacket fall clumsily down the three steps.

“My dress? This shirt!” You gasp, gripping onto it softly. “You look so good. The buttons undone on the top were..” You sigh as he kisses his way down to your shoulder. “…a nice touch.”

His hand pushes up your dress, hands roughly smoothing up your thigh, and one gets to the lacey panties. As his hand brushes the panties to take them off he gives you a manic smile. He takes them off, slowly, head against your shoulder as he does so. As the pair is taken off your foot, he inhales sharply at the sight of them, holding them in front of your body where he can see them. You see his hands touch where you soaked it all night, playing with the slick that has already gathered. “You’re not getting these back.”

He tosses them back playfully, going back to attack your neck. Eventually he leaves kisses all down your torso, and he kisses down your clothed thigh before making a big show of lifting the dress hem up, kissing along your thigh again. Only this time, your thigh wasn’t covered, and it was towards your now uncovered and absolutely throbbing cunt. As he moves closer, you start to whine, as with each kiss he adds more wetness, more tongue. Finally his mouth is right next to your core, and with his head in your skirt, he reaches for each leg to put them on his shoulders.

He goes straight in, tongue attacking your clit, your still covered feet dig into his back and a choked out moan leaves your throat. Eddie’s lips leave your pussy, his shining eyes in your sight as he popped his head from underneath your dress. “Be loud, show me how much you love my tongue all over your pussy. C’mon. Wanna hear you. If I catch you holding back again you’ll be sorry.” He leans in without another thought, and his tongue takes no time to continue.

“Oh, fuck!” You felt slightly embarrassed by it, but you were more worried about what he meant at the end there, by you’ll be sorry. If he edged you just for the hell of it, what was he gonna do as a punishment? “Your tongue, feels so fucking good, Ed.”

“Tastes—” he mutters, mostly to himself. “Tastes like heaven. Love your sweet, perfect, beautiful pussy.” The acoustics of talking through your dress didn’t make sense, but you could hear him loud and clear. “Look how wet this pussy is already for me, just dripping, oh fuck.”

“Fuck, you look, fuck, so good Ed. So fucking hot.”

“You were wet from my appearance alone?” Eddie asks, peering up at you from behind your dress.

“Since the first time I met you.” You gasp out, leaning onto your elbows on the step but finding your head heavy on your neck to look up at him.

“Jesus christ.” You smiled down at him, hand reaching forward for him. He interlocks his with yours and keeps it there as he dives back in your dress. Something feels different…the heat concentrates on your clit as he feverishly attacks it.

“Holy shit--!” You cry out, jerking your upper body forward. “Ed, holy fuck keep doing that.” His other hand joins him, hooking into you and immediately connecting with your g-spot. As you get closer, he can feel your hand tighten on his own as your moans lose all inhibition and you whine, all high pitched, the sound echoing beautifully in the empty house. “Ed, fuck—” Your orgasm snuck up on you, the heat expanding through your thighs and legs until the edge hits you in a silent scream, and you gush all over his face and your dress and the stairs.

Thank god Eddie had hardwood.

He comes out from your dress, and you look at him in disbelief. “What—” you start, still unraveling. “I don’t even—”

“C’mon.” He mutters, kissing your forehead. You follow him up to his room, knees already weak but moving anyway.

Your bodies collide with one another, lips mashing in hot, dirty kisses. “Need to fuck you now.” Eddie breathes, his hands working at the zipper on your back. The dress drops to reveal what he already knew, and that it was you weren't wearing a bra. “Perfect fucking tits, fuck.”

He tugs at his belt and untucks his pants, making him look like a horny teenager. Maybe not horny, just a few drinks in. But when he had what he called the hottest girlfriend, he felt like anyone could hardly blame him. His pants fly off and he undoes the last few buttons on his shirt before he yanks it off by the back.

When he’s finally undressed, he pauses as he gets a good look at you, the both of you ridiculously exposed. “Fuck. Am I so goddamn lucky I get to spend my night with you?”

“Just kiss me.” You tell him, reaching out for him and he lurches forward, wrapping his hands in your hair and taking your lips in a wet kiss. He leads you to his bed, taking step by step as you fall backwards onto it, and none of it is awkward, just perfect. He crawls on top as your leg makes its way around his hips, and he can’t even bother to tease you because if he doesn’t get his cock inside you he is gonna lose it.

You didn’t expect it so soon, usually getting a tease but the shock pulls out a loud moan from you, Eddie moaning at the same time as he pushes himself into you. He puts his forehead against yours, eyes closed. Yours are too, taking in the feeling of his cock inside you. No matter how many times, it's like you forgot how fucking good it felt, every time.

“God. I didn’t know a pussy could feel this…fuck.” He mutters as his words make you tighten around him. “Fucking intoxicating.” He leans in to nip lightly against your neck, whispering into your skin. “Can’t fucking get enough of it. And when I—” he lips his hips out of yours, fucking into you slowly, “—fuck you, there’s nothing fucking better.”

His hips continue, his head remaining in your neck, his body against yours as he just feels you against him. Your hands roam the muscles of his back, nails digging in as his hips gradually fuck you harder. “You always take my cock so goddamn well, baby. Such a good whore for me.”

You whimper; all coherent thought gone as the feeling of him is pure perfection.

“Fucking love your cock in me Ed! Fuck, just like- just like that.”

“Oh, I know you love my cock. You moan like a whore for it. Let me hear you baby.”

The whines you didn’t realize you were holding back came out of your mouth and he grabbed your hair harshly, and you let out a higher one. “Don’t hold back, remember?”

You nod your head, a restricted move because of his hold on you. Eddie lets go, his hand framing your face delicately. He leans in to kiss you, fierce and protective. “God, you’re so much more…more than I had ever wanted…ever hoped for…” his voice is softer now, whispering into your neck.

“Ed. You’re so good…to me. So lucky.”

He places a hand on your clit, rubbing gently at it. “Fuck, baby I’m gonna cum. Cum with me?”

“What am I gonna say, no? To that?” you gasp out. He chuckles softly, the laughter hot against your neck.

“Close.” You tell him and he picks up the pace, holding back a bit for you. “Eddie I—” and a full moan leaves your lips and as you tighten around him, his hips rutting into you.

Eddie moans loudly as he cums, a sound you wouldn’t blame angels for if they had used at the gates of heaven.

His weight is heavy on you, having collapsed. He kisses whatever skin he can reach, your shoulder, collarbone, jawline, corner of your mouth before wrapping your lips in a kiss you can only describe as breathtakingly romantic.

Fuck were you falling, falling hard. And as Eddie lay on top of you for a solid ten minutes, caressing your skin and kissing you softly, still inside you while basking in the afterglow, he is thinking the exact same thing.

Also that he needs to clean the stairs before Dylan gets home.

Thank you so much for reading! I love to read comments and replies and tags and as always reblogging is the best way to support fic writers on tumblr

Taglist: @pinkcowracing @yourthebrokengirl @skrzydlak @thirddeadlysin @sammararaven @bebe07011 @prettylovley @josephquinncore @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you

Those who requested for this fic: @yunnie-f1 @hollster88 @corrodedcoffincumslut @daisyridleyyyy @daniellabrandt @lail1010 @alicentswife @names-were-taken

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #older!eddie x reader #older!eddie #older eddie munson x you

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cerastes · 2 years

Text

The internet is carried on the backs of sub-10k subscriber tech support youtube channels that have the most specific ass solutions to the most specific ass system errors, tech stuff is the one thing I recommend not Googling and instead slamming in a Youtube search.

All the top hit pages in Google for tech support and how to fix this or that are “10 Ways to Fix Error!” and then they go on a soliloquy about what Windows is to fill word quota. We KNOW what Windows is. We make fun of online recipes where the author tells you about how much those mashed potatoes were a beloved family tradition dating back to 1937 when the author and her sister would play in the woods and get bitten by ticks and get Lyme Disease and then after a lot of playing, they’d come back home and eat the most generic ass recipes, yeah, we do that, but we oughta start doing that with tech “support” pages too like god damn, “10 Ways to Fix Error!” except the first 3 “ways” are “Reboot your computer <3″, “make sure you updated your PC <3<3″ and last but not least, the world champion heavyweight nothingburger, “open the Command Prompt as administrator and run sfc/scannow </3″ LOCUSTS UPON YOU, MAN, if I can’t fix the problem, and it is a problem, no fucking way Microsoft software is gonna do jack fucking shit.

The “way” number 4 is, you know it, the sponsored product of the day. Install Krunklo Driver Manager! The best Driver Manager software out there! Here’s a trial version that has fuck all and the paid version is 39.99 each second.

Way number 5 through 10 are various things like exsanguination, putting mercury in your bloodstream, a jar of snake oil, or leaving aromatic substances near your vagina so your hysteric uterus comes back betwixt your loins.

So you just wasted an hour or two on the equivalent of vigorously dancing around the flames the rid yourself of the malaise, and all your god said was “well it’s just 39.99!”, FUCK that, you go to Youtube, copypaste slam whatever the error was in the search bar, and there’ll be one specific ass person out there in the world that solved this and made a video on how to solve it, just for you. The video will be from 2019, and you didn’t even know computers existed back then, but they DID, and this FUCKER OF MOTHERS, may they fornicate many parental figures of their preferred disposition, made this video for YOU. There is meaning in you perusing that video.

It’s 1:14 minutes long and immediately eradicates the problem decisively. You are now oathbound to take a bullet for this beloved stranger, your computer is back in action, and you are not 39.99 poorer. Krunklo Driver Manager will not have its day.

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lowkeychenle · 28 days

Text

masterlist + all about me (and nct dream)

hi everyone! name change/rebrand alert ;)

prev @/lowkeyjaemle, now @/lowkeychenle :D

i'm juls (as some of you already know) and my ult group is NCT Dream! i'm chenle biased (this will never change lol) and the majority of my blog is also chenle biased lol.

i do not have a bias wrecker. chenle is safe (although jisung is my #2, which just makes sense bc chenji is a package deal okay).

i'm 22 (almost 23!) years old, and my pronouns are she/her. now that all this intro/boring stuff is out of the way, please keep reading for my updated masterlist ;)

p.s. if u are also a chenle stan, there are so many chenle fics here just for u

AY YO! MDNI >:(

text!au masterlist | smau masterlist

So, this'll be a little different. These fics will be in order of my personal faves, so if you want a rec on where to start, try right at the top ;)

And Then It Was (M)

After your marriage with Chenle was arranged by your parents for a company merger, things with him aren't quite like you expect. In your life full of obligations, he's determined to finally give you the ability to make your own choices. (smut/fluff/angst) *WC>10k

Cruel Summer (M)

He wants you. Everything to do with you--your heart, your body, all while keeping your friendship. What's a man to do during a 30-day hook up to get you to stay? (smut/fluff/angst) *WC>10k

See My Sea (M)

You never expected your lab partner to be the captain of the basketball team...or a decent human being, but you get proved wrong twice. Despite a rocky past of your own, you find yourself falling for him faster than you thought. Maybe, with his help, you can finally find your way home and see your sea. (smut/fluff/angst) *WC>10k

Like We Just Met (M)

Everything else about the day is completely normal when Chenle realizes he wants to marry you. It hits him like a tidal wave, and he's itching to tell you just how much he wants to love you forever. (smut/fluff) *WC>10k

SOS (M)

Road trips with Chenle are your favorite thing. Late at night, the two of you stop at a hotel, but it's not everything it seems to be. You barely have time to settle before you get a call to evacuate immediately. Beneath red neon flashing lights, you and Chenle have to try and escape the group of people hunting you down. (suspense/thriller/smut)

this is me trying (M)

Meeting Chenle was a fluke--a good one, at that, but you never expected things to escalate the way they did. But despite the whirlwind romance, you'd go back to December if you had the chance... (smut/fluff/angst) *WC>10k

Is It Over Now? (M) (Feat. Jisung)

Your relationship with Chenle is nothing but fight after fight. Amidst the toxicity, infidelity comes into play--except you're determined to one up him...but is it ever truly over? (angst/smut) *WC>10k

Within the Piano Keys (M)

For as long as you could remember, Chenle has been your neighbor and childhood best friend. That is, until one day he disappears without a word…or so you thought, since your mother hid all the letters he sent you. (smut/fluff/angst) *WC>10k

Paris (M)

Pure smut on a hotel room balcony in Paris! Woo. (smut)

Sunshine (M)

You're not usually able to wake up with Chenle due to his schedules, but on the days that you can, it's certainly worth it. (smut/fluff)

Quiet Down (M)

You and Chenle visit your parents, but he just can't help himself... (smut)

You're Not Sorry

You and Chenle broke up two weeks ago. The first time he calls you at 3am, you ignore it. Then he calls again. You answer, and you go to him knowing there's nothing he could do to fix what he's broken. (angst)

The Last Straw (M)

Chenle has been your best friend for as long as you can remember. Being in love with him isn't easy, until you find out he reciprocates those feelings (thanks to Cockblocker!Jaemin). (smut/fluff/angst)

Chilled Nights, Fogged Windows (M)

After being gone for weeks, the first thing Chenle wants to do is get ice cream with you. One thing leads to another, and suddenly, you're in the backseat (oooops). (smut)

In Your Dreams (M)

What started as innocent phone sex hotline stuff (if that can ever really be innocent?), you get an offer you just can't refuse...you just have to be a little sleep deprived ;) (Chenle as Freddy Kruger Halloween thing lol)

Irrevocably (M) Series Masterlist

You were friends with benefits with Chenle until he got a girlfriend...fast forward months later, and now they've broken up--leaving Chenle to come back to you, very much in need of a distraction. (angst/smut/fluff)

Opposites Attract [Poly!Jaemle AU] Series Masterlist

Your relationship with Jaemin started out simple--friends with benefits with zero complications...until there was one. That complication's name is Zhong Chenle, and after Jaemin agrees to expand your exclusivity deal to involve him, there's only one logical thing left to do... (smut)

모래성 (ONE) (TWO) (THREE)

You and Mark have had a friends with benefits relationship for almost a year now. He's in love with you, addicted to you, but you don't feel the same. You're his poison. (smut/angst)

Late Nights (M)

Mark's busy schedule only gives him time to come over late at night, but it's safe to say neither of you are complaining by the time you fall asleep. (fluff/smut)

Empire State of Mind (M) (Feat. Jisung)

Life with Jisung is almost perfect. He loves you, and you love him. But when you run into your ex, Mark Lee, you realize the one thing you've been missing all along is him. (smut/angst)

Lost & Wayward Mini-Masterlist

After the worst couple weeks of your life, you finally break down in the middle of an alleyway. Jaemin hears you and comes to comfort you, and little do you know, he's about to change your life--in more ways than one. (fluff/smut/angst)

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light-yaers · 4 months

Text

Take Care: Chapter Twelve

Fic Masterpost | AO3 | Chapter List

Warnings: swearing, eventual smut, emotional themes.

A/N: sorry this took so long. but it's here now. HAPPY CHRISTMAS BITCHES!

Word Count: 10k+

Chapter Twelve:

“Darling!” Rebecca called as you and Roy approached the restaurant. She stood outside next to a shorter man (obviously), who could only be John Wingsnight.

Roy stayed back as you sped forward, stretching out your arms for an embrace until you and Rebecca finally met in the middle. “Why does Roy look more pissed off than usual?” Rebecca whispered in your ear quickly, as the men shook hands beside you awkwardly.

“Don’t ask,” you whispered back, but she only squeezed you harder in response. “I’ll tell you later,” you added painfully.

“Fine,” she muttered quickly, before the two of you finally parted. She put on a stellar smile. “Shall we head inside?” You nodded, and the four of you entered the restaurant together.

John reached the table first, and slid a chair out for Rebecca. She took it graciously, before he turned to look at you. “It’s so nice to finally meet some of Rebecca’s good friends,” he said. He sounded posh– Richmond posh. You smiled as nicely as you could, but Roy’s presence close behind you was practically burning a hole through your skin.

You went to grab a seat opposite Rebecca, but was abruptly cut off by Roy. He reached out his arm and slid out the chair before you could. You hit his eye as he waited for you to sit down, and when you did, you felt so overexposed that you could hardly stand it.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, as Roy tucked you in safely. He growled gently in response, and the four of you settled in for a long fucking night.

As soon as you could, drinks were ordered in excess. Small talk ensued, but it was made up mostly of Rebecca whittling on about your past placement at the club, and all of the drama that happened during your year there. Next to you, Roy stayed silent unless spoken to. It was clear he wasn’t thrilled about this, but even more so after the ordeal on the drive over.

Truth be told, as much as you’d been looking forward to this evening, you wanted nothing more than to pack it in and be alone with Roy. You needed to address so much, and talk honestly for once in your fucking lives. That was only made more difficult when John piped in with new questions. As soon as she could, Rebecca brought up your article from the Independent.

“Oh, fantastic!” John exclaimed in response. “I read that article, by the way– the one about you, Roy.” Roy tried and failed to look enthusiastic, as John turned to you. “Brilliantly written, you absolutely deserved to win.”

You smiled. “Thank you, that’s kind of you to say.”

“So, is that how this happened?” John asked, pointing at you and Roy playfully.

You and Roy turned to each other at the same time. Both of you looked like deers in headlights, as the entire point of your double-date lie was finally put to the test.

“Yes,” you said quickly. “Yes, exactly.” Stupidly, idiotically, you’d never fucking thought about what story you’d have to explain; the story of how you started dating. Roy looked too relaxed for your liking, so you decided to involve him. “Isn’t that right, Roy?”

Roy shot daggers at you immediately, but they were only perceived by you. He recomposed himself as he turned to Rebecca and John, but before a single word left his mouth, his hand found yours upon the table top. You inhaled deeply as his fingers wrapped around your own.

“She bugged me so much about the fucking article that it was inevitable,” he said lowly. “Isn’t that right, babe?”

John laughed heartily, raising his glass at Roy happily. Rebecca choked on her starter. You’d momentarily stopped thinking as soon as Roy’s hand had touched yours, and had now gone temporarily blind from him calling you babe.

Roy squeezed your hand gently, and your senses refreshed like lightning. “Y-yes,” you stuttered quickly. “Totally inevitable.”

“Well, how delightful,” John said sweetly, before he turned towards Rebecca. “Rebecca speaks very highly of you, I’ve found.”

“I’d bloody hope so,” you let out, getting rid of some of your pent up anxiety. Rebecca laughed, fully recovered from her choking fit. Roy’s fingers were still latched over yours, and you found yourself not hating it after the initial shock.

“And you, Roy!” John continued. “Congrats on the pundit gig, by the way.”

“John is a big football fan,” Rebecca said, and John nodded enthusiastically.

“Here we fucking go,” Roy growled under his breath. You rearranged your fingers quickly, so that you could squeeze his hand reassuringly. He turned to you gently, flicking his eyes over your encouraging face.

You knew this entire night was out of his comfort zone, including the whole fake dating ordeal on top. Getting Roy out to dinner like this was hard enough as it was, but adding this play-pretend must have had him reeling. It was tough for you, as well, especially after your almost confession in the car beforehand. All the two of you had to do was hold on for dear life for another few hours, and then it’d be over.

“It was a massive coincidence, actually,” you piped up suddenly, turning back to John and Rebecca. “I’d had this small nagging voice in my head that kept saying how good a pundit Roy could be, enough for me to annoy him over text, even. Then, a few weeks later, he was on the telly! It was weird, honestly.”

“That wasn’t a fucking coincidence,” Roy said sternly. “I’d had those Sky producers down my throat for a month, but only bothered to reply after you mentioned what a good idea it was.”

You squinted at him, shocked. “What?”

“I became a pundit because of you.”

Rebecca’s mouth upturned into a sly smile. John caught her eye in confusion, but still looked happy to simply be there– probably because he was in Roy’s presence. You struggled to find the right words to say, as your mind catapulted all your thoughts to ricochet off your skull.

The only word you could physically get out was “Oh.” Your wide eyed stare stayed on Roy for a few seconds more, until you quickly looked at the table, trying to compute what you’d just been told. “Right.” You added.

“You were right, too,” Rebecca said gently, and you caught her eye. “Roy does make a rather entertaining pundit.”

“And that’s an understatement,” John added, cheesing from ear to ear.

“Yes, he does,” you said, agreeing with Rebecca, but still hesitating over your muddled thoughts. “Will you excuse me for a moment? That wine has gone to my head,” you let out, alongside a breathy laugh to break the tension.

Roy fingers separated from yours, and as you walked to the bathroom, you felt utterly alone. Maybe it was the lack of his touch, just in those initial seconds after having it. Maybe it was the realisation that once again he’d done something that you’d suggested, just for you. There was no reason for you to get mad about it. Being a pundit was more than the article; it was more public, more personal, more professional. He wouldn’t have done it all unless he’d accepted it himself, and that was the truth of it.

Still, hearing that you’d been his reason for going ahead with the gig was warming. As you looked at your reflection in the bathroom mirror, your eyes were glassy. Your cheeks felt hot, and it wasn’t just from the wine. Your fingers were clammy, not only from your nerves, but from having someone hold them so tightly for the last ten minutes– all of these factors added up to be caused by one man only; Roy fucking Kent.

He was so different to you. So stubborn, so grumpy, so unapproachable, yet it had been so easy for you to cut through his layer of steel and get to the other side of his personality. Gentle, caring, and so unapologetically honest that you could hardly believe it. From the way Keeley and Rebecca– even the fucking football team, too– had reacted when Roy had steadily started opening up to you, you knew this wasn’t an ordinary occurrance. They knew him from a day to day perspective, whereas your knowing had transcended the walls of the Dogtrack after only a few months around each other.

Innately, a switch flicked on in your brain. It’d been over a year of this dynamic. Even including those three months of silence, you’d still thought of each other on a daily basis. Something had to give, and that something was you. This was your opportunity to make yourself abundantly clear– this stupid, idiotic fake dating situation. This was the trial shift, and you just had to show up.

You washed your hands quickly, and as you did it cemented this shift within you. As you opened the door to the bathroom and emerged back into the restaurant, you held your head high. You walked in your heels like you’d been walking in them your entire life, and when you saw the back of Roy’s head, your heart swelled.

As sat back down at the table, and impulsively leaned into Roy. He sensed you, and changed his posture to accommodate your own. “Sorry about that,” you said, laughing at yourself slightly. “It’s not often that I drink wine anymore.”

“Get a different drink if you want, darling,” Rebecca said.

“I think I will,” you agreed, before you took the plunge. Gently, you leaned into Roy, clinging onto his bicep softly. “When the waitress comes around again can you grab her for me, please?” you asked.

Roy tensed slightly beneath your touch, but you could feel him relax as he peered into your eyes. “Alright,” he said lowly. “Beer?” he asked.

You nodded with a smile. It was sweet that he knew exactly what you wanted.

Your main courses were uneventful, but tense. You ate in happy splendour, chatting about whatever— you wouldn’t be able to recount the conversation in any state, purely because you were hyper aware of Roy next to you the entire time. Rebecca’s side-eye stares tickled your bare skin. John’s obliviousness kept you grounded.

It was funny, wasn’t it? The moment that you and Roy had permission to fully jump, to indulge, you found yourselves in a situation where touching the other felt incredibly odd. As much as this entire situation was exciting for both of you, you found yourself focusing on the fact this was all fake– the relationship, the meal, and… the first time you allowed yourself to feel.

Every hand touch and shoulder bump was being watched clearly. Was it all real if this double date was a lie? Was it all real even if you and Roy weren’t actually together?

“Darling,” Rebecca said softly, and you almost jumped out of your skin when you came back to reality. You’d utterly zoned out to the point where you hadn’t even noticed your dessert was already in front of you. “Are you alright?” she whispered across the table.

You swallowed uncomfortably. “Yes,” you said quickly, before picking up your fork. “Sorry.”

“So,” John started, chewing on a mouthful of praline. “Pluto Press, right?”

Your eyes widened, your heart plummeted into your stomach. You’d been avoiding talking about your job with anyone for the past few months. You swallowed, and put on a smile in panic. “That’s the one,” you said, but the awkwardness practically seeped out of you.

“What’s it like in publishing? I’ve always been curious,” John asked, leaning in slightly, so that you couldn’t fucking escape.

“It’s… well, it’s…” You were hyper aware of Rebecca sitting opposite you, and Roy sat to your left. You felt the ex-football Captain stiffen next to you. Concern pooled between you, and he shifted himself to face you more so, curiosity prevalent on his brow.

You looked up at him, lost for words. Innately, you let yourself crumble. Perhaps it was time to tell them that you had your reservations about work. You sucked in a breath. “At first, it was a dream,” you said, turning to John with a faint smile. “I suppose it always is when it comes to the job you’ve wanted since you were a kid.” You turned to Roy again, meeting his eye. “Right?” you whispered.

Roy nodded gently before you. He had football on his mind, no doubt. You could see it in his gaze, you could sense him envisioning the green of the Dogtrack.

“A few months down the line, though…” you started, and gently turned to Rebecca. She was looking at you with a signature arched eyebrow, waiting for you to spill your guts. “It’s been… different, I suppose.”

“Different?” Rebecca questioned.

Roy twisted towards you even more. “Different how?”

Different, as in, I fucking hate it. That’s what you wanted to say, but saying that to the two people who gave you the opportunity to have the position? Hell fucking no.

You opened your mouth, trying to decide upon what words to use, but you never got the chance to say them. A woman sidled up to Roy and threw you all from your conversation. Rebecca’s stare snapped upon her like a lethal panther. Roy perked a brow up at her, a subtly seething look on his face.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt,” she said, and her Chelsea or Kensington accent was the first thing you noticed. “I just had to come over or I’d hate myself for it. You’re Roy Kent, aren’t you?” She was beautiful in a way that reminded you of the girls who used to bully you in school– in your mind, this was exactly what some of them would have grown up to look like. Blonde, big-boobed, high-fashioned, rich.

Your face dropped immediately, overcome by a feeling you’d never actually experienced before. Your chest felt tight, your fists balled in your lap, your shoulders squared off defensively. You turned to Rebecca, and the frown on her face only added to the grim feeling you held inside.

Roy growled at the woman in response, not just as confirmation, but definitely from annoyance. Who the hell interrupted someone during dinner? At a fucking restaurant?

She ignored his hostility, instead opting to jump up and down abruptly. “Oh! I knew it. My father and brother love you, especially from your Chelsea days. Can I…” she said. As she did, she leant in even closer, bridging the gap between her and Roy, until he was forced to look up at an almost ninety degree angle. “Can I get a photo?”

Your stomach dropped at the shift in her tone of voice. She was flirting. Suddenly, the feeling inside you made perfect fucking sense–

Jealousy. You were jealous.

Rebecca went to protest first, but you beat her to it. You leaned forward, and wrapped your fingers around Roy’s bicep defensively. “Excuse me,” you said strongly. “We’re in the middle of a meal, and you’re very much interrupting us.”

Roy’s muscles relaxed beneath your grip, and you only took that as a sign to hold your ground. The woman before you was taken aback, obviously not used to mere commoners having a pop at her about her wrong behaviour. She let out a nervous laugh, tilting back slightly as she peered down at you from above. Instinctively, you caught her eye and glared– glared for your damn life.

“Uh.” The noise burst from her lips like a breath she hadn’t meant to exhale. Like a crack in her exterior. “I’m sorry– what are you supposed to be?”

You saw red, and stood impulsively. You’d never wanted to throw a punch more in your life, nor had you ever had the desire to do so in front of a restaurant full of people, but something entirely new had come over you– and Roy was at the centre of it.

You pointed at her as soon as you were at her eye level, leaning over Roy beneath you. “Listen here, you little–”

“Alright!” Roy burst from beneath you, putting himself between you and the blonde. His arm twisted behind him and found your waist easily. He pulled you into his back, erecting himself as a literal human shield, in every sense. “That’s fucking enough of that,” he muttered, looking the blonde in the eyes.

Suddenly, she switched back to something more honeyed. She puffed her chest out, showing off her cleavage even more so, and batted her mink eyelashes at Roy above her. He bought none of it, of course. It was Roy, and he could always see the bad in people. Mostly, it was a hindrance, but sometimes… It worked.

“I’ll give you a photo to fuck off,” he said candidly.

You scowled behind Roy, trying to adjust yourself to the point where you weren’t utterly flush against the wool of his jumper. The blonde made a guttural noise of offence, however, which definitely pleased you somewhere deep inside.

“God, don’t fucking bother then,” she squeaked at Roy. You thought that was the end of it, until more drivel fell from her lips. “You need to keep your dog on a leash.”

You froze, but not from what she’d just said. You froze, because Roy’s blood immediately turned to ice. You felt the muscles in his back contracting, trying and failing to shut down his inevitable jump to anger. You could imagine the robotic expression on his face, the sharpness of his jaw, the straightness of his eyebrows.

This was Roy Kent when he was too angry to function. This was Roy Kent from the fucking football pitch.

Your gut lurched when his grip on your waist loosened, and you knew you had to intervene. Quickly, you slipped beneath Roy’s arm and shoved yourself between him and the blonde. You leaned back against Roy’s chest forcefully, and to no surprise he’d planted himself to the ground like a fucking tree. The blonde crossed her arms, shooting you with a shitty looking smirk that was supposed to make you feel hard done by, but you actually didn’t care.

You just wanted her to leave Roy alone.

“I think it’s time for you to leave now,” you said calmly. “Before you embarrass yourself even more.” You softened your expression, but not by much. The blonde faltered subtly, dropping her arms to her sides as she became self-conscious of how many stares in her direction littered the restaurant.

“I was going already,” she said, flustered, but not before she caught Roy’s eye again. “You footballers are always too fucking complicated.”

You and Roy watched her clip away in her heels, muttering to herself the entire way back to her table. A tense silence filtered across the restaurant, until all of a sudden, the hubbub came back. People went back to their meals, your heart settled in your chest, and Roy– his hand found yours instantly. You turned back to the table, shivering with every swipe he gave your knuckles, and caught Rebecca’s eye.

You’d almost forgot her and John were still fucking here.

Rebecca cleared her throat. “Shall we get the bill?”

John kissed Rebecca goodbye, but not after shaking Roy’s hand and holding onto his wrist for just a moment too long. You let out a pent up breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding, as your party of four decreased to three. Rebecca turned back to you and Roy with an expectant face.

“So?” she said, eyes gleaming.

You hunched your shoulders up to your ears and smiled awkwardly. “He’s… nice!” you said, and for once you couldn’t find any other word to describe someone, but you tried your best. “He’s personable, and financially stable…” you trailed off.

“But?” Rebecca asked, sensing some trepidation.

“Well,” you started, turning to Roy for back-up.

He let out a sigh, growling subtly. “He’s fine!” he exclaimed. “And fine is good, fine is safe, but I guess it all comes down to why the fuck someone like that deserves you.” He said strongly. “You deserve someone who makes you feel like you’ve been been struck by fucking lightning.”

Rebecca and your speechlessness was apparent, as the two of you glued your eyes onto Roy. You could feel him buzzing next to you, and heat radiated off him in waves.

“Don’t you dare settle for fine, just because it’s easy.” Roy scrunched his face passionately, before clocking eyes with you next to him. His face softened, and his expression resorted back to something more unbothered. “Or do,” he backtracked. “Do whatever you want.”

He shrugged, and you scoffed abruptly, bringing a hand to your mouth to stop yourself from chuckling more. Rebecca was taken aback. She had this golden look on her face that you could relate to heavily. You’d had that look a thousand times before, when Roy had done something to completely subvert your expectations. He was right, though, as much as Rebecca probably wanted to object. He was right, and you were glad that he’d said it the way it should be.

The sound of Rebecca’s heels disappeared into the distance, as you and Roy walked back along the river. It was cold. The temperature had dropped profusely as November set in, and you could see your breath every time you managed to exhale. That was just it– breathing around Roy tonight had become some sort of manual chore, alongside every other normal function that you could usually do in a heartbeat.

Unsaid words flickered between the two of you as you continued strolling; past Roy’s Jeep, further down river, until you reached the small side streets around Richmond Green. It was a comfortable silence, but far from a calm one. You and Roy had thoughts so loud that it was a miracle you couldn’t decipher the chatter in each other’s brains.

Thinking back to the car ride, the stares, the feeling in your gut, all of it– you knew something had to be said. But, you simply didn’t know how to put it all into words. Perhaps Roy was suffering the same, as his mouth stayed glued shut.

Approaching the other side of the green, your eyes settled on the Crown and Anchor. Ted and Beard’s stomping ground was lively, and you slowed down to peer through the windows. Twinkling lights rounded each frame, shining onto the people inside. Beers were half drunk, locals chattered and chortled, and Mae stood in her rightful place behind the bar.

You smiled. “I wonder if Ted and Beard are in.” Your heart felt warm.

“Ted lives just up there,” Roy said, pointing to a side street beyond the pub. “He made me tea, at the end of last season.”

“Hm,” you said. “That was before the last game, wasn’t it?”

Roy nodded next to you slowly. “Stopped the twat from getting hit by a cab. He’d had one too many pints.”

You let out a gentle breath, smiling as you pictured the scene. Neither of you made an attempt to walk inside, or further down the road. You simply stayed glued to your spots, and you thought you knew why. This was nice. Stood beside one another, recovering from that tension you’d both had at the restaurant. But– this was safe. You were both avoiding addressing what you truly wanted to;

What would come of this?

You sucked in a sharp breath, feeling that you had to pull off the bandaid. “Listen…” You turned to face him. “Roy–”

“Don’t,” he said quickly, lowly. “I know what you’re gonna say.”

You swallowed away your words. “Okay.”

Roy’s chest expanded as he sucked in as much air as he possibly could, and let it all out of his nose. He smiled. “I like this,” he croaked. “I like things the way they are.” Your heart sunk ever so slightly, but you were thankful he wasn’t yet finished, so you didn’t have to speak. “I like you and me hanging out, and talking football, and just– I don’t fucking know– this.”

You didn’t understand him fully, and you had a feeling that Roy didn’t understand himself either. Neither of you knew what you wanted precisely, and that was easy to see.

Panic set in on Roy’s face. “I don’t know how to explain it. I just– I just fucking–” You stopped him by placing a gentle hand on his chest.

You attempted to rationalise what he was saying. Maybe this was for the best. Maybe keeping things like this, platonic, friendly, whatever the fuck word you could use, was for the best. It was just like that blonde girl back at the restaurant had said; footballers were complicated, and you didn’t like complicated, even if it was with Roy.

“I do, too,” you said, reassuring him. “Like this, I mean. I like this, too.” You smiled, but it felt sad.

Roy exhaled softly, finally landing on words you could both understand. “I fuck things up, sometimes,” he said lowly. “I don’t want to fuck up things with you.”

An abundance of thoughts trickled from the deep crevices of your brain. Ones that wanted to yell at Roy to let himself be happy, to let himself do things that he wanted, to not hold himself back. The look on his face showed you just how hard he’d thought about it all. It was the same look that had graced his face for most of the meal– he’d been thinking about this conversation all night.

You had, too. You’d adopted the psyche of someone who knew that she wanted this. Him. And you’d thought that Roy had wanted the same thing, too, considering the immense build up you’d both experienced. You were certain you hadn’t imagined it, certain that he was ready to give in alongside you, but evidently…

You’d been wrong.

And being wrong was okay, especially when your relationship with Roy was on the line.

You shrugged away the question in your brain of how a fake date, that lasted less than three hours, had utterly changed his mind after months. You bit away the urge to ask him why. Roy’s thoughts weren’t yours to divulge; they were his, and he’d made up his mind. That was something you had to take with grace.

“Okay,” you whispered. It hurt to say, it hurt to accept, but you weren’t about to become someone that got angry when someone you liked denied you. You took a small step back, and smiled in an attempt to hide how gutted you felt. “Okay, Roy,” you said, stronger this time. It cemented it all.

It was done, and you had to be okay with it, or risk losing him altogether.

As the end of November hit, Roy became used to his routine. He’d film Soccer Saturday four days a week live, and one day a week for pre recorded segments that were played during highlights. He got up at seven in the morning, sharp, sometimes going for a run when it wasn’t too blisteringly cold, but those mornings had been few and far between as temperatures hit zero. Winter hadn’t yet arrived, but it bloody felt like it.

He’d have a coffee, and don his suit, before jumping his Jeep to the studio. On the way, a mere two minutes into his drive, he’d pass your flat. It was customary for him to glance to the left as he passed, always, but the thoughts that hit him alongside were something he wished would stop.

That look on your face, the one from that night– it haunted him. You haunted him.

Through every fault of his own, he was grief stricken. If you’d asked Roy a few weeks before the meal if he was ready for this, for you, for what could be, he wouldn’t have hesitated to say yes. But that night, everything had shifted for him.

The way Rebecca had glanced between you and him made his gut coil, and he knew it was bloody obvious that you both had shared affections. The feeling that you both harboured could’ve been seen from fucking space, he’d bet. But, then it all went downhill. That blonde girl, the one with the giant rack, and even bigger nose to butt in your evening together, had stumped him.

Up until that moment, Roy was accustomed to knowing when his anger would jump out. He could feel it coming on, sense it raging within him, but when she’d talked down to the likes of you– it had felt uncontrollable. Roy was a violent man; he was no stranger to throwing a punch to someone who deserved it, and he was content living that way. Just not around you. He didn’t like that side of him when you were near. He didn’t want to fight or kick or punch his way out of an uncomfortable situation when you were next to him.

That, and Roy had felt the unmistakable struggle of something else for practically half his life. It was nagging, and made his chest hurt. Those thoughts of self-loathing, of exposure, of isolation, were something so ingrained that he’d never thought they would be a problem when it came to actually being happy. But, they were. They really fucking were.

The truth was, Roy Kent didn’t want to drag you– marvellous, intelligent, too-good-for-him you– into his nightmare of a life. Full of uncertainty, or unfulfilled self-worth, of all of it.

So, that was that.

You continued working, but reluctantly. Thoughts of Roy pelted your mind, utterly impossible to ignore. You didn’t have time to ponder the possibility of leaving Pluto Press, or doing something different, not when your workload was stacked high. The beginning of December brought buzz about Christmas, but you hardly felt festive. Roy was working hard over at Sky, as were the boys at Richmond. You still kept up with them all, and getting updates from Sam was practically routine now.

As you jumped off the tube at Richmond after a busy week, your phone buzzed to reveal another text from Sam, but what he’d written made you stop in your tracks.

Forgot to tell you. Jamie Tartt is back. He started training again today.

You flashed back to the ordeal from a few months prior, when Sam had stormed off the pitch after seeing Ted at the pub with the ex-Man City superstar. You knew that Ted would have made it clear about bringing Tartt back to the guys, but that didn’t stop you from feeling uncertain. You wanted to think that Jamie had turned a new leaf, but your gut still coiled at the thought of him back at the club.

Perhaps you were insane, or over-tired, or still reeling after your fake date, but you changed your course home and headed for the Dogtrack without hesitation. Tartt needed to know what was what, and you didn’t care being the person to do that. You imagined it would be harder for Ted to do so, or the guys themselves after all that he’d done last season.

You stormed through the doors off the car park, navigating the corridors down to the lower level, until you stomped your way through the tunnel to the pitch. You launched the door open quickly, not stopping to wave off the confused stares from Ted, Beard and Nate at the edge of the pitch. The guys ran around on the grass, finishing up their final game of their practice. You cut it all short as you propelled your way onto the cold, damp ground. Isaac was the first to stop and stare, whacking Colin on his back to make him aware of your presence too. The trickle of twenty pairs of eyes headed your way immediately, as you cut across Dani and Bumbercatch without a word, headed for one player in particular: number nine, Jamie fucking Tartt.

“Hey!” you exclaimed to him, and a handful of players flinched.

Jamie whipped his stare away from the ball at his feet, and slowed to a confused stop as you approached him. “Hey…” he said smally, utterly boggled at your presence. You stopped in front of him, brows furrowed sternly, as you tried to adopt Roy’s resting bitch face. “What’re you–?”

You cut him off by jabbing your pointer finger into his chest. He stepped back once, and rubbed the spot you’d hit him in. “You,” you said strongly.

Jamie’s face warped into concern. “Me?” he said, and his Mancunian accent hit your ears for the first time in several months. You prepared yourself, and even further blocked out the questioning looks that littered the pitch.

“See this team?” You gestured to the guys quickly. “They’ve worked really fucking hard this season, after the relegation.”

“Okay?” Jamie squeaked out.

“I’m not questioning Ted’s decision to bring you back,” you continued, holding your ground. “But, know this, Tartt.” You said his name like Roy would, with subtle disdain, with a strength behind it that communicated you were serious. “Being back here is a privilege, not a right, and you need to know that.”

Jamie’s confusion disappeared instantly. His face softened, and was replaced with something resembling guilt. It was a look you’d never seen him wear before, but one that you welcomed in that moment. He needed to know that things wouldn’t be like last time. He needed to know that people like you gave a shit.

Jamie placed his hands on his hips, and nodded at the ground. “Okay,” he said lowly, before meeting your eye. You raised your brows at him, perhaps in warning. He breathed out quickly. “This is a privilege, not a right,” he repeated to you.

“Good.” You nodded, and smiled just a little. “Welcome back.”

Tartt nodded at you in acknowledgement, and you stepped back to show you were done. The guys shuffled behind you, muttering to themselves as you swivelled on your heels and headed back the way you came. When you looked at the various faces around you, Sam was the only one who was properly smiling. He knew you’d done it for him, for all of them.

Beard hit Ted’s shoulder quickly, and the Texan jumped forward abruptly, until he walked beside you. “All okay, Writer?” he asked, and you smiled wider.

“Sorry for the interruption.”

“Oh, no bother,” Ted said. “Though, perhaps a heads up would have been appreciated.”

You laughed gently. “Noted. Won’t happen again, Coach, I promise.”

Ted laid his hand on your shoulder, and his confused expression turned to gold. “It’s good to see you.”

“You, too,” you said softly.

“Got any holiday plans?” Ted asked, as the two of you reached the edge of the pitch. You turned back to the guys and practice resumed.

You shook your head. “Not really. With how busy the office is around Christmas, there’s no point in me going home for it. I’ll probably have to work between Christmas and the New Year.”

Ted hummed in understanding. “Same as us, for sure. We’ve got a match on Boxing Day.”

You hummed in response, as yourself and Ted looked slightly sunken after your small catch up. You’d always spent Christmas with your family, so it would be odd not doing so this year. You tried to think of the perks, though– a pub roast on the day, a drink with Mae at the bar, and an early night before the match and your inevitable workload afterwards.

Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. At least, that’s what you were telling to yourself.

“Hey!” Sam called from the pitch, jogging over to you and Ted cheerily. “If you have no plans for Christmas day, Mr Higgins is hosting all of Richmond's overseas players. I know that a good few of us are going this year.” Sam smiled, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

“Do you reckon it would be okay for me to join?” you asked.

Sam shrugged. “You are a part of Richmond, and you are away from your home. I do not see why not.”

“Very good point well made, Sam,” Ted said softly. Your heart swelled in your chest.

“Okay.” You nodded. “I’ll come.”

Sam leaned forward and gently grabbed your forearm, squeezing slightly as his fingers coiled around you. He got in close to you. “Thank you,” he whispered, then pulled back and sent you a knowing look. “You are too good to us.” You scoffed to yourself, just from a lack of how to react.

As Sam jumped back and headed towards the team, he sent you one final glowing review from home: “We all miss you around here!” he exclaimed, before fully rejoining the guys.

You gulped back your feelings, the hurt, the want, all of it. If you’d allowed yourself to speak back, all your walls would have crumbled instantly. You would have found yourself immediately saying Please let me come back.

Please, let me come home.

On Saturday afternoon, your phone was ringing off the hook. Not that you could do anything about it, as you found yourself in an altercation with the newly moved-in upstairs neighbour. For days on end, all you’d heard was stomp stomp stomp from above. It was so frequent and so loud that you’d been rudely awoken in the early hours of the morning on multiple occasions.

You were trying this thing where you were being stronger. You were trying this thing where you wouldn’t let people give you shit that you didn’t ask for, nor deserve. When you thought about it in depth, you were actually just trying to be more like Roy.

As you slammed your front door shut, you sighed deeply. The footsteps from upstairs had gone uncharacteristically quiet, so perhaps you’d actually got through to them. In the kitchen, your phone continued to buzz incessantly. You bound over and were met with something that should have instilled the fear of God into your bones: over ten missed calls, and multiple texts from yours truly, Roy fucking Kent.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you muttered to yourself, as you scrolled through the messages.

OI!

Pick up the fucking phone.

You’re not gonna believe this shit.

I’m going on the air in two minutes, hurry the fuck up.

Guess you’ll just have to watch my mug talk about it on TV.

All messages were sent in a five minute period, not two minutes before. His last call had been one you’d missed by a mere minute. He’d be on Soccer Saturday by now, so you’d just have to see what the fuck was up as it aired.

When the first advert break hit, you were smiling from smugness. Not that there was any competition between you and Roy when it came to football– he would obviously win– but this time around you felt superior.

It was about Jamie’s return to Richmond. All that Roy had been calling and messaging you about was Ted bringing the superstar back to the team, and guess what? You’d fucking found out before him.

During the break, your phone inevitably rang again. You picked it up swiftly, and didn’t even bother talking. Roy growled on the other end. “Did you fucking watch it?” he asked.

“Mhmm,” you hummed in response, still smiling to yourself.

Roy went silent for just a second too long, and you could hear the cogs whirring in his head. “You already fucking knew, didn’t you?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed again, fully smiling now.

“For fucks sake!” he exclaimed. “I should have known your fucking fanbase would have spilled.”

“Sam told me yesterday,” you said. “I actually– well, I went to the Dogtrack after he told me.”

“Oh?” Roy questioned.

“I may have let my emotions get the better of me.”

“Did you give that little twat what for?”

You squished the features on your face together, thinking back to your abrupt arrival and yelling match on the pitch. “Yes…”

Roy paused, and your heart stalled. “Good girl,” he said.

You swallowed away the visceral reaction that reverberated through your chest, but still let out a small choking sound. You played it off as a cough, before you quickly changed the subject. “So, are you doing anything for Christmas?”

“I’ve got Phoebe. We’re gonna attempt to watch all the Harry Potter films in one day. It might get fucking ugly.” Roy paused again, and you had this horrible feeling he was about to– “Want to join us?”

You clamped your eyes shut. Your heart plummeted into your gut. If he’d asked you this a few weeks back, before the conversation, before the date, before all of it, you wouldn’t have hesitated to say yes. Now, even if you’d wanted to go, you wouldn’t be able to after agreeing to join the guys at the Higgins household. But that was just it– after facing the music, and realising that Roy didn’t want anything more, you knew it would be easier for your heart if you stayed away from moments like that.

Moments where it was you and him, him and you.

“Oh, Roy,” you let out. “That sounds fantastic, really, but I’ve already got plans with the team. I’m sorry.”

Roy knew it was a long shot. He knew you could’ve been going home to see family, but knowing that you were actually staying in Richmond was even more of a blow. You’d be mere miles away with the team, close enough to fucking be around if he tried. Deep down, though, he knew that wasn’t wise.

It was him that stopped all this in the first place– it should be him to uphold the friendship and not blur the lines. It wouldn’t be fair to you otherwise.

“No problem,” Roy said through gritted teeth, trying to sound fine. “Really, it’s fine. You’ve been missing Richmond again, haven’t you?”

You scoffed gently. “You could fucking say that again.” You wanted to ask him the same, as you harboured a feeling that he missed the team just as much as you did, but you didn’t want to ruin the moment.

Roy copied you, letting out a huff of air softly. “Enjoy yourself. You deserve it.” Over the line, the shrill sound of a bell rang and a tannoy yelled Back on air in one minute!

You frowned slightly. “Is that your cue?”

“Yeah, it is,” Roy said lowly.

“You better get back to it.”

“Hm,” Roy growled. Neither one of you wanted to hang up, though. It was plain to fucking see. “I’ll, uh, see you in the new year then.”

“Have a good Christmas, Roy,” you said, almost painfully.

“You too.” Then, he was gone.

Waking up alone on Christmas morning was a new feeling. Your apartment was empty, besides yourself and your haphazard decorations, strewn up quickly in the small amount of time you had at home over the weeks leading up to the big day. It was oddly comforting, though, as you operated to your own schedule and weren’t met with the immediate task of dealing with family for a week straight.

Your phone was full of Christmas messages. Ones from Keeley and Rebecca, from Ted and Beard. One from Nate made you smile, alongside various well-wishes from the local Richmond guys who wouldn’t be in attendance at Higgins’s.

You drank your coffee happily, and got yourself ready without any time pressures. Walking over to the Higgins’ household was refreshing, as snow graced the ground in all its splendour. Richmond around Christmas time was truly magical, and it made you feel equally as reflective about your time in this part of London. A year and a half had gone so quickly.

You passed the Crown and Anchor, and smiled at the buskers singing outside. Last Christmas drifted through the air rightfully, and you shrugged your shoulders up to your ears warmly and watched for a minute.

Down the small side street by the pub, the unmistakable silhouettes of one Ted Lasso and one Rebecca Welton strolled alongside one another. You turned to face them, and could hardly believe your luck. Rebecca’s face lit up as soon as she saw you, and her long arms spread wide to encase you in a hug.

“Merry Christmas, darling!” she exclaimed warmly, equally happy about bumping into you.

When you pulled away, she was very quickly replaced by Ted. He wrapped his arms around you instantly. “What a small world, huh!”

“Small indeed,” you chuckled.

Ted parted from you, and your cheeks already hurt from smiling as you looked at them both before you. “Where are you two off to? Ted, I thought you were having Facetime Christmas with Michelle and Henry?”

Ted frowned ever so slightly. “Well, some things in this life are impossible to control, and I think seven year old boys definitely fit in that category.” You smiled at him in understanding. “Lucky for me, though, the Boss was right there when I needed her.”

“We’re off to play Santa,” Rebecca chimed in. “Definitely beats what I did last year. That was right after Rupert… well. You know.” She smiled subtly.

“Are you off to the Higgins’s already?” Ted asked.

You nodded. “I wanted to get there a little early and help Julie if she needed it. Having a house full of footballers doesn’t strike me as something easy.”

“You can sure say that again,” Ted let out. Rebecca chuckled in agreement.

“What about Roy, what’s he up to?” Rebecca asked. You inhaled a sharp breath, but smiled all the same. You ignored the stabbing pain in your chest, and the hoard of butterflies that ravaged through your stomach.

You shrugged. “Don’t know.” It was a lie, but you couldn’t be fucked to explain it all. The invitation, the conversation. You hadn’t told her, nor Keeley, about what had happened after the double date. You didn’t want to.

Ted’s face softened. “Well, we’ll leave you to it, Writer. Have a good one. You deserve it.”

Rebecca encased you in another hug. “You really do,” she whispered. You knew what it meant.

Roy looked at his phone grumpily. Not that looking at his phone un-grumpily was something he did often, but he was extra grumpy as he traversed his Christmas messages that morning. There was nothing from you, no small text, no Facebook post, no message sent by carrier-fucking-pigeon.

“Uncle Roy!” Phoebe called, as the pitter patter of her bare feet erupted down the stairs and straight towards him. She crashed into him as he sat at the dining table, and latched herself onto him. “Can we do presents now?”

Roy took one last glance at his phone, before he dropped it on the table. He turned back to his niece, taking in her puppy-dog eyes and features that looked just like his sister. “Fuck yeah,” he said.

Phoebe squealed at the top of her lungs, before swivelling on her tiny toes and sprinting towards the tree in the living room. Roy watched her go, smiling to himself as she dropped to the floor and started rifling through the wrapped gifts.

It was true that he wished you were here. You’d probably have arrived right about now, wearing something cosy like a lumper jumper, and holding a bottle of prosecco for later. You’d have brought gifts, no doubt. Some Barbie situation for Phoebe, or another thing suited for a seven year old girl. Phoebe would have loved it.

You would have brought something for him, too. Something that you might have been worrying about for a few weeks, concerned that he wouldn’t like it when, in fact, you could have got him a bag of literal dog shit and he would have still said thank you.

Roy swallowed away the images that his head made up. He did it often now, thought of what could have been, what might have been his future, if he wasn’t such a fucking git– or, if you weren’t so fucking perfect that it scared him half to death.

“Julie! I’ve washed the sprouts!” you yelled from the Higgins’ family kitchen. It was a quaint house, and you wondered how the fuck they fit four boys and two grown adults so easily inside.

“Fabulous.” Julie rounded the corner from the living room, holding two empty plates that only held crumbs. “Another plate of mince pies is all gone. I don’t know where those boys put it all!”

The doorbell rang like clockwork, and with every ring brought another team member, or two, or four. You hugged everyone as they filed into the kitchen, dropping coats and bags and another plate of food until every counter and surface was covered in another cultural dish. It was fantastic, and you found yourself feeling more part of a family than you ever had at Christmasses in the past. There was no drama, no political debates, and no screaming matches with your mother. It was blissful.

When Dani arrived, the room erupted in greeting. He approached Julie first and offered her his dish. “Mrs Higgins, I bring you my mother’s punch, and some Mezcal on the side, as she says I am already cheeky enough.”

Julie chuckled. “Oh, thank you, Dani.” She took the punchbowl from him, and lifted the foil. Immediately, the room was met with the metallic scent of alcohol. Tequila was very much already present in this punch. “God– it seems like you’ve already added some to this.”

Dani grinned. “Yes, I may have cheekified this one for you already.”

You chopped carrots a few metres away from them, but turned to Dani with your knife raised. “Someone get me a fucking glass of that.” Sam obliged as you continued chopping, and the group of the guys got themselves a drink too. The festivities were well underway.

“Here you are,” Sam said, placing a glass of punch beside you.

“Thank you, Sam.” You wiped your hands and stopped cooking for just a moment, as he raised his own glass in waiting. You smiled and hovered yours next to his, feeling infinitely warm already. “What are we toasting to?” you asked.

“To you,” he said gently. “Just because you deserve it.”

You chuckled, embarrassed. “Everyone’s been saying that lately,” you said quietly. “I’m not sure why.”

“Because it is our job to remind you of it, especially when you cannot see it yourself.” Sam looked at you softly, and you knew he was being genuine. You clinked glasses, as your eyes welled ever so slightly. It was moments like these that made you feel known, really really known, but also desperately sad.

Why weren’t you with them every fucking day of the week?

Leslie let in another three of the guys, and as they clambered inside a problem arose. “You’ve become quite popular, Leslie!” Julie exclaimed happily.

“Yes, it seems so,” Higgins said. “That’s the problem though, isn’t it. Where are we all going to sit?”

You took the roast potatoes out of the oven and dropped them on the kitchen island. “I think I have an idea to fix that,” you said.

You tucked in your chair last, and looked around the room. A table as long as a train carriage graced the Higgins household, made from the likes of a surfboard and a pool table, amongst other things. Sam sat opposite you, casting you with a golden glow whenever he so much as smiled.

At the end of the table, Higgins stood up. Every pair of eyes in the house shot his way, and he raised his glass to the sky. “Here’s to another successful Christmas in Richmond!”

Sam raised his glass higher than all else. “And here’s to the family Higgins!”

As darkness set in outside, you all ate and were merry in each other’s presence. Spending time with the team was always special to you, but this moment stood out above all the rest. It marked the start of another year in Richmond, and just over six months at Pluto Press. It marked a year and a half of an unlikely friendship between yourself and Roy, and all the rest.

You ate more than your own bodyweight, but to your utter surprise, at the end of the meal your head was spinning. You took a sip of your drink, and stopped to stare at the contents of your glass. It was full to the brim, but had been almost empty just a moment before. Had that been happening all evening?

You glanced at Sam, but the punchbowl was nowhere near him. When you glanced to your left, however– “I think this punch needs just a bit more cheekiness!” Dani exclaimed, as he poured in another few shots of tequila to the mix.

You grabbed his bicep gently. “Dani, have you been filling up my glass all night?” you asked.

Dani nodded happily. “Sí, mi amigo. My mother never believed in empty glasses. A glass cannot be half empty, or half full, it always has to be full full!” he exclaimed. The boys around him cheered and raised their very full glasses.

“Well.” You scoffed abruptly to yourself. “Shit,” you said.

Dani turned back to you, eyes gleaming. “Oh my goodness, are you–?” He mimed tipping back a full glass, and you laughed so loudly that the entire table was alerted to you. Dani grabbed your shoulder fondly. “My friends, it seems our Writer has been– how do you say it in English?”

Bumbercatch leant forward, smiling wildly. “Trollied, bevved, battered–”

Dani stood up abruptly. “She has been trollied, bevved and battered!” He raised his glass high, and clinked it with the guys down his end of the table.

Meanwhile, you were just calming down from an uncontrollable laughing fit. You glanced at your very full glass, and a small part of your brain told you not to drink it. You’d already had far too much, and you knew what you got like when tequila was in your system. On the other hand, you thought of Roy.

And he would have told you to buck the fuck up and drink the whole fucking thing.

You raised your glass to the sky. “To Richmond!”

The guys followed suit, almost knocking over the surfboard table. “To Richmond!”

As you stumbled through town, after declining multiple attempts from the guys to drive you home or get you an Uber, you found yourself heading elsewhere. Not home, to the comfort of your bed and a full loaf of bread for you to soak up all of Dani’s Mezcal. Instead, your legs were taking you the familiar route to Roy’s house. You didn’t know what time it was, but you knew it wasn’t too late for him to be asleep. You were proved right, as you rounded the corner to his drive and saw the living room lights still on, no matter how dimly lit he liked them to be.

As you approached his front door, the small bit of your logical brain that you had left was screaming at you to fuck off and turn around. This was silly, you knew, but you couldn’t fathom going home just yet. Innately, you landed upon yelling surprise! or starting to sing carols in Roy’s face as soon as he opened his door. Somehow, those ideas seemed like the perfect idea, and not at all fucking stupid.

You knocked on the solid oak door strongly, ready to surprise the hell out of him, but when he opened the door and peered down at you– all your words failed.

Roy wore the remnants of a suit, and a fancy one at that. His tie was loose around his neck, and his shirt was slightly untucked at the bottom, but not enough to not notice the belt that sat snug around his waist. You scanned him up and down quickly– or as quickly as you could in this fucking state. To Roy, your checking him out took a solid ten seconds, or longer.

When you met his eyes again, he couldn’t hide the amused smile on his face any longer. “Can I help you?” he asked.

“I may have had a bit to drink,” you said, and as hard as you tried you couldn’t stop your words from slurring. “Dani made punch.”

“Did that punch happen to punch you in the fucking face?” Roy huffed.

You nodded. “Juuust a little bit,” you let out.

Roy moved to the side. “Fucking get in here,” he said warmly.

You struggled to take off your boots, as Roy grabbed a few drinks from the kitchen. He oversaw you in his entryway, shrugging off your coat clumsily. When you stepped onto his floor in your socks, you skidded and let out a squeak.

Roy looked away quickly, trying to harden his expression. Watching you inebriated and without inhibitions was enough to make his gut coil. You stumbled to the kitchen, and leaned against the kitchen island just to keep yourself up-right.

He slid you a beer, which you took without question. “I really don’t need this, do I?” you said, looking to Roy for approval.

“Fuck no,” he said. “But, it’s Christmas.”

“Right you are,” you said. The two of you clinked your bottles together, and you swigged back your beer as if it were water. Roy chuckled so hard that beer frothed out of his mouth.

“Fucking hell, come on.” He grabbed your bicep gently, and led you to the living room.

You practically jumped onto the sofa, and got yourself comfortable immediately. “I love Christmas,” you whittled on. Roy sat on the other side of you, and took a swig of his own beer. “All the lights, and the snow, and everyone together. I just love it.”

“I take it that spending the day with the team was nice?”

“Just the best!” you exclaimed, raising your arms to the sky and almost dropping beer onto Roy’s plush carpet. He took another amused swig, just to distract himself. “How was your day with Phoebe?”

“We got to Order of the Phoenix before she fucking fell asleep,” he said. “She gave it a good shot.”

In the corner of his eye, Roy spotted the last present beneath his tree, and remembered who it was for. As you busied yourself by pulling off the sticker from your bottle, Roy got up swiftly and headed to pick it up. He placed his beer down as he grabbed it, and opened the card on the top.

Just another thing to remind you of home. Roy.

His handwriting was shit, and he knew it, but he thought that now was as good a time as any to give it to you. It was Christmas after all.

“Hey, so. I don’t know what’s got me being such a pussy this year, but I got you something,” he said, keeping his back turned to you. “You don’t have to open it now, just thought it would be nice.” He turned back to you, expecting you to be looking at him with those large, glassy eyes that he’d looked into a thousand fucking times.

Roy relaxed when he saw you, and a bubbly laugh ejected itself from his mouth. You were fast asleep on his sofa, beer balanced precariously on your chest as you breathed rhythmically. Your expression was soft, and your mouth was open, ready to emit some serious snoring. Roy strolled back to you slowly, placing your present on the coffee table. He grabbed the beer from your chest and replaced it by pulling a blanket over you warmly. You didn’t stir, utterly unconscious from such a fun packed day.

He’d never seen you like this– with your guard completely down. He felt privileged to know you felt comfortable enough to feel so at home like this. In his house, completely pissed, next to him.

Something new came over Roy as he made sure you were comfortable, and before he could stop himself, he leant down and placed a kiss on your forehead. Just a peck, and so fast and soft as not to wake you up. “Merry Christmas,” he whispered.

Roy left you on his sofa, at peace, and turned off the lights as he headed for bed himself. On the way up, he thought about the last year and a half of having you in his life. All the ups and the downs, all the confusion and the clarity– and what a time it had fucking been.

Tag list: @atjamesbbarnes @20th-centu-fairy-girl@royalestrellas @weakmoony-stuff @ironmanmagnetfridge @lemonpiegurll @hellomagicalsouls @her-fandom-sanctum @gothicwidowsworld @old-enough-to-know-better73 @djarindroid @afraidofshrimp @respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog @queen-of-dumbasses@sogoodtoheritsvicious @lznnph1l @crav1ngc4ke @onceuponaoneshot @jamieolivia27 @dadbodfanatic-x @kelp-dreaming @harrypedro465 @lonely-escape-artist @abeeabeeabee @nicklet94 @libsybum @cha0sdreaming @toomany24s @kashee-h @infinetlyforgotten @secretnook @cluelesslilsharkie @callmecasey81 @deepdarkvelvet @twiceinabluemoon @cardeegans @golden-hoax @kingleahhh @hoalkk1 @sunderland-6 @ellouisa17 @thesestrangerslikeme @elissaaa @scrumptiousroadponymoney @confessionsofatotaldramaslut @ysmmsy @seacactusplant @pedritosgirl2000 @loveslide @ryleyrooroo @hanybunch @tweasley20 @witchyanya-7 @sareim123122 @jaymum @lwritesstuff

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snapscube · 4 months

Note

Anything you're especially proud to have accomplished this year before the new one rolls upon us?

TRUTHFULLY a lot of my accomplishments were relatively small compared to my ambitions but in the grand scheme of things add up to a lot of meaningful life improvements and successes i think. i dont know if there's like ONE BIG THING i'm especially proud of. a lot of the big stuff i WANTED to do got pretty delayed for one reason or another. but, as for small stuff:

i started an even SOMEWHAT regular exercise routine and have managed to hit the end of the year without dropping it completely, despite occasional slowdown

i got my name legally changed

though it was a bit of a bait-and-switch in terms of intentional production value, we DID technically put out an episode of SRTF this year. we even shadowdropped it, and it has received a ton of praise in spite of itself.

in terms of streams, i genuinely think this was the best year for stream quality and consistency i have ever had. with absolute banger playthroughs like Tears of the Kingdom, Spider-Man 2, Dragon Quest 8, Resident Evil 4, etc. i think i really raised the bar for myself.

and oh shit speaking of, i did my first marathon charity stream this year and raised over $10K for AHA

i made a lot of progress on my art!! made an honest effort to pick it back up and i genuinely think my work at the end of the year compared to where it was is a subtle but noticeable bump, though i did fall off a bit more than i intended.

and though i don't have MUCH to show for it right now tangibly, i have been working a lot in the back of my mind and in various documents on some Actual Fiction that i hope to be able to sink my teeth into more next year.

and yeah there's definitely a lot more small stuff in between! it's tough because i still feel so behind on a lot of stuff that i feel like should have been a lot higher priority for me, but if i'm giving myself credit it definitely puts into perspective just how Not Totally Washed i am when i start to list stuff out. which is nice to be able to do! everything in its time i suppose! im not starting 2024 with any "resolutions" or anything quite as high stakes per se but i do have a large list of goals im still gonna be working towards. i think the main thing i really want to nail down is prioritizing my time and energy towards the things that are gonna make the biggest impact on my own personal satisfaction so it becomes easier to feel like i wasn't just coasting for 12 months.

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hexonthepeach · 1 year

Text

dive

pairing: f4!nct dojaejung x fem!reader (past johnny x reader mentions)

genre: hana yori dango/boys over flowers/meteor garden/f4 thailand reverse harem au (mild allusions and characterization only)

warnings: brief mentions of past bullying, dom!doyoung, hopelessromantic!jaehyun, mommykink!jungwoo, reader is a bit of a switch, smut (mmmf, double penetration, oral f & m receiving/giving, unprotected sex, anal, semi-public sex), degradation/humiliation kink (reader), pet names: baby, mommy (reader), puppy (jw)

wordcount: 10k

author's note: i wrote this as a distraction from other projects after listening to perfume on repeat and lamenting the end of promo. intended as a oneshot but i have some ideas for continuation. please let me know if you enjoy it (and more importantly, what you enjoy)

The Bangkok night is warm and thick and redolent with flowers. The expensive vacation home one of your three companions had arranged for your short stay is quietly luxurious, separated from the city bustle but still hazed with light past the high walls and thick foliage surrounding the pool.

You'd never made a habit of asking who paid for what with your travel companions, but you guess by the mix of old world and new that it was Jaehyun's idea to stay here–perhaps even a Jeong family permanent accommodation. His family's import business had done well in the region, judging by the luxury sports cars parked in the driveway.

Everything about this trip is surreal–worse for the fact that a fourth presence lingers like a ghost in your periphery.

He should have been here. Indeed, you've taken his place, filling the natural void like a small drop in an ocean-sized hole.

Everything about this distraction brought you back to him: the rose petals strewn across your pristine bed, the snarling garuda statue lurking across the aquamarine oasis.

Johnny is 8600 miles away and still very near.

Jaehyun joins you at the pool's edge, slipping some well-concocted drink near your manicured fingers–most likely Jungwoo's contribution by the tasteful sprig of flowering basil. You'd refused multiple drinks at the club, still flagged from a day of travel and self-conscious of the eyes on your table and you’d finally agreed to one now that you were back safe in your own private enclosure.

He shucks off his sandals to dip his feet in beside yours, nudging you beneath the water to remind you that even with the grief that's hollowed you out inside, you're not alone.

Jaehyun doesn't speak–well accustomed to your need for silence when you've inevitably descended into that space again.

Unfortunately, Doyoung isn't as accommodating.

"What did we say about moping, Y/N?" A tall shadow stands beside you, swaying slightly.

"I'm not moping," you say, sipping from your glass of Mekhong soothed with sugar and soda. "Just thinking."

"Wasn't the point of this vacation to get you to stop doing that?" Doyoung is touching his toe to the warm water when there's a sudden rush from behind you, a startled cry escaping the man before he hits the surface fully clothed.

"Was he bothering you?" Jungwoo asks, looking completely unfazed about shoving the other man in.

"You bastard," Doyoung says, spluttering up and tossing his hair back as he holds his phone out of the water.

"It's waterproof."

"That's not–"

"I'll buy you a new one."

"Now you're going to have him trying to return the favor," you say, giving him a sly smile.

"Oh I think I'll be alright," he says with a wink, backing up a few paces before cannon-balling in. If you'd been doused by Doyoung's ungraceful landing you're soaked thoroughly by the splash Jungwoo makes, finding yourself shielded by Jaehyun's torso wrapped around you.

You hadn’t even thought to protect anything but your drink, your heart stuttering as you find yourself inches from his flushed face and rosy lips.

"You okay?" he asks, wiping water from your face with his silk sleeve.

"Yeah," you say quietly. "Can't see the tears now, right?"

He blinks at you, believing you by the clouded expression in his dark eyes.

"I'm just kidding. Not crying, see." You smile at him as best as you can muster, hoping your carefully-applied makeup isn't running off your face.

"Don't you want to join us?" Jungwoo has escaped Doyoung by pressing himself to your knees, shoulders well out of the water at standing level. You shake your head, suddenly shy.

"You should have let those girls come back with us," you say. "All that work wingmanning for nothing."

"Blame Doyoung for boring them talking about tariffs," Jungwoo says, ducking as the other shoves water in his direction. "Besides, we didn't want you to be alone."

"You know I don't mind, puppy." You tousle his wet hair, sipping deeply again. Through the fogged rim of your glass you catch his cheerful expression falter. It lasts only as long as he realizes Doyoung is floating on his back, swamping him with a tackle.

"I asked them to keep it just us for tonight." Jaehyun says, breaking his quiet.

"Saving the party for Phuket!" Jungwoo shouts in the background, mispronouncing the first syllable deliberately to sound like fuck it.

"Have someone you're missing tonight, too?" Your tease lands with a thud, watching your best friend's mouth crease at the corner as he chews his lip.

"I'm sorry, that was rude–"

"No," he says. "I know how you feel."

"How far away is Paris?" you ask, not expecting an answer.

"5 hours," Jaehyun says, grinning slightly. It's a callback to so many months of watching him stare out towards the airport from the school rooftop with you, letting you listen while he mused on what she might be doing at that hour, how long it would take to get there.

You'd encouraged him even as your heart broke–feeling the dwindling embers of a schoolgirl crush on him turn to ash. You would never be as good as his childhood love, even if you had taken up her place as his companion seated beside him on the piano bench when he practiced, or studying beside him as he drifted off into one of his many naps.

It was better this way–more comfortable just being able to be with him without the worry that you could live up to her, your heroine in highschool. But there would always be something there.

Doyoung clambers out to sit beside you, far enough away not to dampen the fuschia Versace metal mesh minidress he'd gifted you earlier. It was the perfect costume to play the part of nouveau riche jetsetter for a girl who lived one step up from a basement apartment.

No one would mistake you for class, or even an influencer, but in their company no one was looking at you anyway. Most people thought you were Doyoung’s assistant or Jungwoo’s sister. The nasty looks, sometimes worse, always followed when they introduced you as their friend.

"What can we do to make this a magical night?" Doyoung asks. You find yourself unable to answer, eyes caught on the smooth definition of his chest through the barely buttoned translucent shirt he'd worn out. You note he's lost the matching loose tie, probably still wrapped around a girl's neck on the dance floor.

"It's already so nice," you say, looking up at the blink of stars through the light pollution. "Thank you for including me."

"You think we'd leave you behind?"

The way he says you carries all sorts of strange subtext, considering your history. It had been a long journey from being mercilessly bullied and shoved into the dirt you came from, as Johnny had called it, to here. The lap of luxury, attended to by three specimens of wealth and privilege so out of your league you may as well be batting a thousand.

"Well it’s not like I got you in the divorce," you say, knot twisting in your chest. "I guess even now it’s hard to tell if you’re just being nice to me because you feel bad for me."

"First of all, he left all of us," Doyoung corrects. His voice is a little raspy, as if he's controlling his emotions. The admission leaves you questioning. You knew how close they were but they'd never shown any sign of being affected by Johnny's sudden departure.

Maybe you'd just been too busy wallowing to notice.

“Second, you’re special. Too special to let just anyone play with. If you hadn’t noticed, we enjoy your company.”

"And when have we ever done something nice?" Jungwoo rests his arms on your knees, almost pulling you into the water. Jaehyun pushes him back with his foot, earning a tug on his leg that does little to move his immovable weight.

"You're a package deal, though. Like a blend," you raise your mostly empty glass to drive your horrible attempt at a metaphor to death. “Even with one ingredient missing you can’t beat the original.”

“Well I won’t deny you're a strange substitute,” Doyoung says, gracefully using your words to make his point. It reminds you of how he’d spent hours drilling you with details of tea ceremony when your ridiculous coworker had asked for a demonstration of his family’s heritage business.

“But taste requires innovation, and it’s often the unexpected addition that changes the entire flavor profile. You’re new but you’re refreshing, and unique. Not something to be discarded because anyone demands it.”

“That’s a very poetic way of saying you still like me even if I’m an uncultured pain in the ass.”

"Poor little weed," Jungwoo says, hands splaying over your bare thighs before Jaehyun can foist him off again. “Are you insulting Doyoung’s taste? You're the first girl any of us have agreed on."

"I doubt that considering what I saw last Friday. Did all of you sleep in Doyoung's room or did you take turns–"

You catch Jungwoo's scheming look with Jaehyun right before the cocktail glass is plucked from your hand and you're picked up on both sides, Jaehyun lifting you by the waist and Jungwoo taking over once you're free of the edge.

"Let me go," you shriek, folding over his shoulder.

"Are you sure?" Jungwoo bends his knees until your hem is submerged, not phased as you beat on his back with soft hits.

"At least toss me in so you can get a head start," you threaten. He indulges you, lifting you up out of the water like he's going to help you recreate that pivotal scene from Dirty Dancing only to throw you back and into the deep end.

You hold yourself in a ball and sink, breath held, channeling your best hello darkness my old friend as you wait for the inevitable. It takes less than ten seconds before Jaehyun dives in after you, pulling you up.

“Got you,” you say, grinning through the trickles of warm water. Jaehyun looks less than amused, lips thinning into a tight line as water drips from his bleached blond hair.

"Don't scare us like that," Doyoung gripes, joining you a few seconds too late. You shoot him and Jungwoo a look over your perch on Jaehyun's arm, clinging to him for comfort.

“Yeah, please.” Jaehyun breathes.

"Is my makeup coming off?" you ask. He's been staring at you funnily as you float beside him, bodies brushed up in the expansion of his clothing and the occasional contact with his frame.

"What?" Your best friend sounds dazed, water collecting in his dimples as he smiles softly.

"What?" You parrot, teasing, mirroring him in the way your eyes dart to his mouth, not surprised to find his lip trembling. His uplit face is shadowed with hidden feelings you can only guess at.

That years-old urge to kiss him returns. It could be considered revenge for back when he'd grabbed you and given you a taste of what it would be like that day after he’d come back from his trip abroad. You'd melted into him like it was the most natural thing in the world, the illusion only broken when Johnny had slammed the rooftop door shut on the way back down, flowers for whatever apology he'd half-assed scattered across the dirty tar paper.

You'd slapped him afterwards, surprised to find him smiling. He's in love with you, isn't he? Had to be sure.

There'd been so many times after that he'd played with your feelings you'd lost count, but one constant remained: he would never pursue you fully if he believed it would hurt his best friend.

Your chest feels tight just imagining what might have been, had you changed course back then. But you've long given up dwelling on might have beens.

Jaehyun is less mercurial now that he's older so you’re the one to catch him by surprise, lips pressing to his cheek right beside his mouth–in the smile lines you know too well. It's a quick send-off before Jungwoo can grab his legs and pull him under from below.

Doyoung takes the opportunity to capture you by the waist, keeping you from becoming a casualty of their underwater fight. He looks just as serious as always, even without his usual glasses.

"Sorry about the dress," you say, working to stay afloat.

He laughs at you, prone to condescension as always. "If you like it we can get you another. But do you really want to wear the same thing twice?"

"Some of us can't replace our wardrobe every week," you huff.

"Are you under the impression I'm replacing a bespoke suit collection every week? All I'm saying is you should have a new dress for every occasion. Especially if you're with us."

You jab him in the side, surprised at the hardness of his ribs but also delighted by his startled wheeze.

"I'm not your kept woman."

"Not even if we want to keep you to ourselves?"

A little shiver runs through you, making eye contact with him as he mouths the waterline. It's said so innocently but you know better. He and Woo had been dropping double entendres since well before takeoff from Seoul.

Flirting was Jungwoo's thing, a silver lining to the dark shadow of a personality that enjoyed being subtly in control. As the future heir to a crime syndicate it was much better than experiencing his hidden anger. Doyoung though . . . as much as he dabbled in shadier scenes and pretended to be a womanizer he's old-old-old money, from a strata inaccessible to anyone who's genealogy can't be traced back to the Goryeo dynasty.

The idea of him folding you into his life, much less keeping you, is absurd.

“Well that does seem to go against the whole idea of this being a trip to finally get over . . . everything,” you say, deflecting from his intensity. “What happened to letting me live like the F4 for one week?”

“Is this not it?” He quirks an eyebrow at you.

“What if I want you to play wingman for me? Find me something meaningless to distract me?”

You're not expecting the dark storm that settles over his refined features.

“I think you have enough distractions here to keep you occupied.”

Your pulse picks up, hearing the hidden message loud and clear. He'd heard your laments to Jungwoo about how long it had been since you even thought about being with someone else, how you'd never really gotten to date after three brutal years of school, work, and accidentally making the worst chaebol tyrant in Seoul fall for you.

Now that you're free for the first time in your adult life, you want to experience what it's like to be just another girl, like the ones they so frequently invited to their tables at function and club alike.

"Are you insinuating you're not going to let me bring anyone back if I find a fling? After I just spent all night singing your praises to a healthy pool of candidates? Double standard, much?"

Doyoung wraps an arm around you to keep your head from knocking against the tiled pool edge. He's backed you into it without you even noticing it.

"You can try," he says, gripping the wall next to your cheek. "Though I would question the sanity and intelligence of anyone who took you up on it."

There's his brand of cruelty: casual threats delivered without a hint of remorse. You'd been on the receiving end, perhaps were now, but you're not afraid of him in the slightest.

"You're not reporting all of this to him, are you?"

Doyoung doesn't answer, nostrils flaring.

"Or is he only texting 'Woo back?" you ask.

"Who texted me?" Jungwoo asks with open curiosity behind him.

Doyoung presses a single finger to your lips in warning, releasing you.

"Didn't you get the number of that model? Miss Thailand 2016 runner-up?" You toss your head slightly to clear it, still feeling heat suffuse your cheeks from just a touch against your mouth. It really had been too long.

"Oh she's too good for me," Jungwoo remarks, jokingly. "Besides, I already have a failed beauty queen right here."

You snort. “In what world is second place a failure when it’s your first time?”

The contest had just been a university charity project but you'd worked hard to earn that spot after Johnny had entered you in as some kind of sick game from abroad. Jungwoo had helped you conquer it–had even got you a side gig modeling when his usual partner had dropped out at the last minute at one of his shoots. You’d just been there to deliver coffee and now you were on a cover being printed in 15 different countries.

You always liked reminding Jungwoo of his Pygmalion moment because that's when you'd genuinely seen his kinder side–even if you suspected he may have threatened at least two of the judges to land you on the final stage. Losing had been worth it to spend time with the member of the F4 you’d never been close to in high school.

"Maybe she doesn't deserve you," you say, swimming around him to grab him loosely around the shoulders. “Not many can appreciate having a personal rescue dog to save them from getting wrinkly fingers.”

You're immediately indulged, Jungwoo paddling you back to the shallow end where Jaehyun is lost in thought, staring at white blossoms from one of the trees in the courtyard floating in front of him. Doyoung is just as contemplative.

It’s probably best to not let it stretch out any longer–you were always a fan of ripping the bandage off quickly even if it hurt.

"I'm going to go take a shower and call it a night." You announce, hearing Jungwoo groan. "Unless . . ."

"Unless what?" Jungwoo perks. Jaehyun squints up at you where you stand over him. You look at Doyoung instead, as he drags himself out of the water to sit on the ledge beside the stairs.

"Unless you tell me what we really are."

The buzz of cicadas seems to die a little, soft music inside the house drifting out through the glass.

"Friends, hopefully?" Jungwoo says.

"Well you aren't bullying me anymore, so yes. But friends don't keep their friends from moving on from past relationships."

"That's not at all—" Doyoung begins.

"Let me finish," you interrupt. He's immediately quiet, throat bobbing as he looks beside you at Jaehyun's taut shoulders.

"I'll never fit in with you or your world but we both stopped judging each other for that a long time ago, I think. I like spending time with you, I like knowing you'll still include me even if . . . " You can't bring yourself to say Johnny's name. "Even if I'm just another ghost who's outstayed her welcome."

It was their term for dropped flings and casual encounters, with a whole subset of terminology for the ones who couldn't get the hint (poltergeist), or lost their cool at their dismissal by screaming and crying (banshees).

It hadn't been like that for you even the second or fifth time Johnny had broken up with you–always for reasons out of your control. You'd shown him the same aggression and cruelty in answer, but you’d never begged for him to take you back, ever, and you certainly had never sought out his friends.

It had always been their prerogative to spend time with you, and you’d leaned into it your freshman year of university study and singlehood, wanting the support network denied you by being alone and poor in a city you could barely afford. You’d never take their money but you had accepted their company, and had enjoyed it far more than you could have imagined.

Even if it kept you in Johnny Suh’s outer orbit, what you had with them meant something to you. You didn’t want to lose it when he came back. From the press releases about his recent promotion, it would seem to be soon.

Waiting for that inevitability is like attending your own funeral before you’re dead, pallbearers for company.

"You're not a ghost," Jaehyun says. "And we won't abandon you, ever."

"You'll just keep me and this dynamic trapped in amber until Johnny changes his mind, then? It's been a year already. I don't want to lose any more of my youth to him, and I don't want to lose you when he comes back and you all act like he's done nothing wrong."

"That won't happen," Doyoung says, sighing.

"No, because I'll leave before then." You get out of the water, brushing your face free of the hot tears. "Wouldn't want to ruin your fun."

Jaehyun pulls you back, strong enough you lose your footing and sink into his submerged lap.

"You're not going anywhere," he says. There's no malice or anger in his tone, just quiet assurance. He cleans your face again, blue silk cuff coming away black with mascara.

"You asked what we are. Remember when you used to come sit next to me under that stupid ad?"

"Yeah?" you sniff. You'd spent hours with him sitting on a city bench as he stared up at a billboard for luxury clothing with her face on it. She’d been the dream he chased at your urging, the fantasy that had sadly broken with proximity.

"When I was in France, after things became clear, I would go and sit somewhere and pretend like you were there with me."

"I hope it was somewhere fun, like the Louvre," you joke.

"Too crowded." He shakes his head, smirking. "Would look weird talking to myself."

"Oh you talked to invisible me but you couldn't pick up the phone once?"

He shakes his head again, squeezing you.

"Anyway. The point is you're stuck with me. And them."

"And Johnny . . .?"

"Stop bringing up our ex," Doyoung says. Not your ex, our ex.

"It's a valid concern," you say, adjusting in Jaehyun's hold to rest your head against his damp shoulder. "I'm not going back to him. And I know you'll choose him over anyone else."

"No," Jaehyun says.

"You're the exception."

You lift your head to blink up at Doyoung.

"Didn't think you made those."

"Well you just haven't spent enough time with me, then."

"You planning on spending time with me?" You smile lazily, hand drifting to squeeze his leg. It's always fun to see his unflappable face twitch.

"He already blocked off half his itinerary for private tours. Jaehyun had to fight him to split it equally," Jungwoo says. Doyoung splashes water into his face with his foot.

"I wanted it to be a surprise," he says sourly.

"Like the massage tomorrow morning?"

This time Doyoung's kick makes waves wash over you and Jaehyun, leaving you spluttering.

Jungwoo takes it, smiling once his floppy brown hair is pushed back out of his eyes again. He grins at you from the water. "You'll take your dog for a walk when you remember I exist, right?"

"Why not just come with us?" You'd often wondered if there was an invisible tether for how often they appeared together.

Doyoung clears his throat, Jaehyun shifting uncomfortably under you.

"What am I missing?" You laugh awkwardly, looking between them.

"I forget the only man you've ever dated never dated anyone seriously, either." Doyoung looks somewhat pleased with himself. "Traditionally when you spend time with someone you're interested in you don't have company–"

Shock runs through you like ice dumped over your head. "You can't be serious."

Doyoung's face is incredibly serious, Jaehyun's proving only a little more relaxed about the disclosure. You turn around to Jungwoo, floating nearby with a humored expression.

"You're not part of this are you, 'Woo?"

"Of course I am. You deserve a break from stuffy museums and romantic dinners to have some real fun."

His eyebrows lower a bit in some sinister joke, and for the first time a little fear courses through you. It's been a long time since you saw their manipulative and controlling side, but bringing you to a foreign country to date you, their best friend’s ex, without telling you . . . That's a whole new level of it.

"This isn't a competition, is it?" You hide the tremor in your voice.

"Between us? Of course it is," Jungwoo says.

"And the terms?" You look at Jaehyun, who is unable to meet your gaze. "Let me guess, whoever fucks me first?"

His eyes widen in genuine dismay, panicking. "No, of course not–we just wanted to give you a chance to decide if . . ."

"If what?"

"If you liked one of us more than the others," Doyoung finishes for him.

You find yourself breathing heavily, face flushed.

"What if I can't choose?" You ask, gaze fixing on Jaehyun's mouth as he bites his lip, still looking guilty.

"If you decide you don't want to be with any of us, then things stay the same. Nothing changes. We'll still be friends." He says it all slowly, deliberately, almost as if it’s rehearsed.

"And if I choose one of you? Do I get to suffer the jealousy complex of another deeply insecure and emotionally unavailable man?"

That hits them where it counts. They'd all watched Johnny take out his fears on you, masked under bravado, posturing for an audience that more often than not was just you and his friends. His peers had rarely done the same, unless you counted Jungwoo following his enforcement orders like a loyal hound or Doyoung orchestrating clean-ups.

No, they'd skated clean through multiple horrorshows by simply being there to throw their weight. No one else had the notoriety and resources to cover up the trail of damage left in Suh's wake.

You stand up again, turning between them. "And none of you are worried about Johnny finding out?"

A lump forms in your throat, bitterness about even having to invoke your own personal demon. Yes he'd walked away, but you knew his sense of entitlement would never allow his interests to be compromised by another–especially his closest companions.

And here they are, looking between each other and discussing your fate with the deliberate calm of a business transaction.

Apparently the only consequences were for you.

"Or is that the real game you're playing here," you ask. "Degrade me so far in his eyes he'll want nothing to do with me while you write me off as disloyal trash."

Jaehyun sucks his breath in through his teeth, and you note how hurt he looks. Jungwoo seems even more upset, full bottom lip jutting out.

"I know what you've been through, and I know it will be a long time to forget," Doyoung says. "But we're not him."

You remember an old saying your father had taught you: when you're holding a hammer everything looks like a nail. Better applied to problem-solving perhaps, but you'd also been dealing with one, giant nail-shaped problem since he'd crashed into your life. It was stuck in your heart and time and healing hadn't removed it. Maybe it was permanent, but you still had to live with it.

"I just don't understand how you think you think this will work."

"You're awfully concerned about what he thinks," Jungwoo says, rising over you. "What about moving on?"

"I don't give a fuck what he thinks. I'm just looking out for you. You know he'll punch first and ask questions later. What if he does something reckless?"

Jungwoo is laughing at you through closed lips, eyes crescented in mirth. "We have you to protect us, right? Just roundhouse kick him in the face again."

“That was lucky,” you say. “He wasn’t trying to murder me, either. There’s probably an American hitman on his way right now to take us all out and make it look like an accident.”

“He would definitely hire locally,” Jungwoo corrects you.

“And here I thought you were braver than that,” Doyoung muses. “Do you think we need his permission? You certainly don't.”

That makes you pause. You look at Jaehyun. Of all the people in the world he was the closest to their former leader. They’d fought even more than he and you had, and Jaehyun had always conceded, taking it on the chin, letting Johnny drag him along in his wake. The one time he'd stood up to him had been for you and it had almost fractured everything irreparably.

His black eyes pierce into you when he looks up.

“I think y/n can make any decision she wants to,” he says dangerously. “None of us will stand in your way, whatever you choose.”

“You promise?” you ask, tilting your head to let your wet hair brush over your bare shoulder.

“Cross my heart and hope to die,” Jungwoo says.

You wait for the others to show visual signs of concession: Jaehyun nodding, Doyoung making the sign of the cross in what is an obvious misuse of the gesture.

“Good. Because if Johnny finds out what I’m doing on this trip, he’s not the only one who will kill you.”

"I think we should start enacting a punishment whenever she brings him up again," Doyoung says.

"Great idea," Jungwoo says, sweeping you into his wet hold from behind. The chill you'd been feeling exposed to the air dissipates a little, his warm chest against your bare shoulders. You shiver a little at the intimacy, feeling him laugh even if he doesn’t make a sound.

“What will it be?” Doyoung defers to Jaehyun.

He leans back . “She does something to distract herself.”

You purse your lips together, affecting an air of deep thought. "My choice?"

"Always," he says, not breaking eye contact.

"Rock, paper, scissors, then." You nod at him. He grins, Doyoung groans. Jungwoo's long arms wrap around your waist, hands already in position.

"Surely there's a better way we could eliminate your options," Doyoung says, almost missing the cue and throwing paper to the other two's scissors.

"Better luck next time," you tease.

"Kiss it for luck." The back of Jungwoo's hand presses to your mouth moments before Jaehyun initiates.

Jungwoo loses the second quick round after a draw, crushed by Jaehyun's rock.

"I should have known you were cursed." Jungwoo pouts, not letting you free until you've ducked back into the water to escape him. You give him a wink as you swim towards the stairs, emerging between Jaehyun's spread legs before he can close them.

"What are you doing?" he asks, warily, still leaned back against the last stair.

"What I want," you say, blinking drops from your lashes. You move weightlessly on to his thighs, grabbing his soft face in your hands. He's unable to process what's happening quickly enough to respond as you tilt his face up and press a gentle kiss to his parted mouth.

You ignore Jungwoo's wolf-whistle in the background, partially aware Doyoung has shifted nearby the moment you'd slid into your friend's lap. All that is noise as the gentle sound of the water feature drowns the startled sound you make when you're grabbed and pulled back to Jaehyun's mouth.

This time it's real: solid and delicious as he crushes against you, tongue sliding across the seam of your lips until you let go of your held breath to softly exhale into his. Small dips of his chin coax you into opening for him, your hands threading into his hair to anticipate his movements as he kisses you like it's the last time in his life he'll ever get the chance.

"That's enough," Doyoung says, Jungwoo booing him.

The other two may as well not exist, your thumbs circling Jaehyun's cheekbones as you retreat to inspect the damage. He's usually so composed it feels like peering into a different universe's version of him, rapture and satisfaction warring with concern in his expression.

"Thank you," you whisper. His eyes focus again, teeth exposed as he tongues them.

"Any time," he says. It's funny how instantly he regrets the word choice, the pink in his ears and cheeks deepening.

"Not thinking about you-know-who now, are you?" Jungwoo asks, right behind you.

"No," you say. "But I suspect you wish I'd say yes if only for the consequences."

"That was hot," he admits. "But I don't typically like my prospects thinking about other men."

"Can I tell you a secret?" You crook your finger, clutching on to Jungwoo's wet patterned shirt when he leans down far enough to be in range.

"I only made you play for it so we could find out who goes first." You say it in his ear, letting your mouth drag against the shell.

He pulls back, hesitant, nose brushing against your cheek.

"Really?"

"Kiss me and find out," you offer.

He doesn't wait, lashes against his cheeks as he meets you halfway, tilting your head to the side for full exploration of your lips. He's much gentler than you expected, shy almost, tender even when your tongue meets his and you can taste the hint of sticky mango rice you'd had for dessert earlier.

"Good boy," you say once you've broken free. He smiles in the way you're used to the most, right side of his face crooking with an edge of deviousness.

You turn to find Jaehyun watching, eyes starry with arousal but unreadable. Doyoung is on his feet as if he's preparing his exit, expression stony.

"Is something wrong?" you ask, meeting his calculating stare.

Doyoung opens and shuts his mouth, water pooling at his feet.

"Not enough punishment for you?" There's an edge to your voice that you recognize as the tone you'd used many times before, in your idiotic quest to tame one of his own.

The tension breaks when Doyoung laughs softly, crouching down and crooking his finger. You wade up the steps to meet him, hyper aware of the drag of eyes on you as you emerge from the water, dress clinging to your skin.

"I planned out such a nice trip for you, and this is what you really want?" Doyoung asks, eyes traveling down your body and back to your face in the kind of assessment that you'd seen other people wither under.

"Why do you think I agreed to come?"

“Noted.”

He nods, slightly, but makes no move to take what you'd already given the others. You don't let it dissuade you, fingers digging into the hard line of his shoulders to press your lips to his.

It's like kissing a statue. A challenge you're willing to meet as you delve further, rocking him back on his heels. You pry open his mouth with gentle bites and licks between each kiss, past his perfect teeth until you can explore his tongue with your own. You don't realize your hands are fisted in his wet hair until you're done, finding him collapsed on the wet cement, panting.

"Was that sufficient punishment?" you ask.

"For you? Absolutely not," Doyoung says, the rare full smile gracing his kiss-swollen mouth. "For them? Yes."

You glance back at your other two companions, clocking that they're both nearer than you remembered. Jaehyun's hand drifts over your hip, as if he's questioning letting you go in the first place.

"Should we set some rules? Or are you all going to take them as an excuse to break them?"

Jungwoo chuckles.

"No competition. Equal time, equal attention. And no possessiveness," you state. Doyoung looks up from under his brows with amusement, clearly enjoying your groundless attempt to set boundaries.

"I don't care what you throw at me as long as you don't walk back what you said about our friendship."

"I think we're something different now," Jaehyun says, voice cracking.

"I know," you say. You run a hand over his head, feeling his temple come to rest against your waist. "But you crossed that line first. I'm just saving you the trouble of playing some silly game to come on to me. I'm not a prize to win. I'm a person who knows you all better than you think."

You turn to Doyoung again, holding your ground. "You said you'd give me the true F4 experience."

"Within reason," he demures.

"Then lose your hangups and let me have a taste of what it's like to be just one of those girls you have no problem with having fun with. No special treatment, no regrets."

The stunned silence has you feeling a twinge of embarrassment at pushing your agenda this far.

"Impossible," Jungwoo answers.

"Why not?"

He pulls the hair away from your neck to kiss beneath your ear. Gooseflesh appears on your arms even in the warm air, anticipating his answer, but he's too occupied with trailing his mouth down, sucking lightly over your pulse. You feel dizzy, hand reaching back to hold his head to you.

Once he's had enough of watching you unravel Doyoung jerks you forward, grip tight around your wrist.

It's a familiar gesture, a reminder you are at their mercy. He cuffs his hand around your neck like he's going in for another kiss, stopping at a few inches.

"You don't get to set all the rules. This one especially. You are not just some girl with whom we engage in forgettable, inconsequential relations."

He pauses, eyes darting to your mouth before meeting yours again. "If we go down this path you're getting the real thing. All of it."

"We know you have experience." Jungwoo adds.

Oh you knew. They fucked around but they were careful about it, always gentlemen, always above board. NDAs in some cases, mostly for Doyoung. You didn’t know all of their specific proclivities outside of Jungwoo exclusively chasing women a generation older but you suspected whatever they enjoyed was much less wholesome.

Like Johnny's needs once he'd finally had you. He'd bent that way and much, much more. The difference was he'd never been as precious with you as they were with their little conquests.

If they didn't want the safety of a legal cushion it didn't mean they didn't need it–they just didn't think it would be a problem.

"I'm sure you've heard a lot of things about me," you say. A whisper of rage underlies the words, colored by so many rumors foisted on you well before you'd ever accepted their company–even more when they had.

Whore. Cockslut. Used goods.

Johnny had always been a contradiction–surprisingly prudish about sex but quick to use the grossest allusions to it when pressed for details by his friends, liberal in his name calling. They'd known him since childhood–they didn't believe him, even if everyone else had taken his words as gospel. You'd had your revenge by proving just how true those words could be in private.

"We don't know anything you don't," Jaehyun says, quickly.

"Still, I don't think you know what you're signing up for," you say. "If anyone is using anyone in this arrangement, it's going to be me. Or I'm out."

"You worried we can't show you a good time?" Jungwoo asks. It's a funny question with him pressed into your back like he'll push your head down into the water if you answer incorrectly.

"I'm worried you'll chicken out," you say, grabbing Doyoung's wrist to keep his fingers on you, covering them with yours to increase the tension. You'd always been strong.

Doyoung's expression is matched by his lingering hold on your throat, squeezing a little and making your eyes drift shut in pleasure.

"You always did seem to enjoy the humiliation a little more than our other targets. Can't say it wasn't an encouraging factor. You like it, don't you?"

He lets you go with a slight push, registering the way your eyes haze over with reflected lust.

"Yeah. Blame a few formative years of getting my signals crossed. Just part of the damage." There's no shame in your voice, another casualty of their efforts.

"You're not damaged," Jaehyun remarks.

"Not beyond repair," you agree, gaze burning into Doyoung's. His regard is a thousand times more revealing than a kiss, most especially the tic in his cheek every time Jungwoo decides to leave a mark with his tongue and teeth on your throat and you reward him with a moan.

"Should be fun seeing which one of us can push past your comfort zone, then," Jungwoo says, breath cooling the last bruise he's left on the back of your neck. "Find out if you have one."

"You're not dropping the competition?"

Nervous anticipation gives you butterflies, different than the ones springing up being teased by the three of them. Not one of them accepted being outclassed.

"No." Jaehyun says it well before the others. His hands drop to your legs to hold you steady as Jungwoo continues his assault on your neck. "But equal opportunity. I think we can all agree on that."

"Don't worry, we'll play fair," Jungwoo says, biting your shoulder. You jerk in his grasp, vaguely aware of fingers at your hem. Doyoung continues to watch, tongue darting over his lips.

"I hope not," you say. "I won't."

It's all the permission your captors need.

Your breath stutters as Jaehyun's hand slides up your inner thigh, circling the wet skin absent-mindedly. You whine a little, teased by the first intimate touch you've had in months.

"You better stay quiet. We do have neighbors," Doyoung says, voice pitched low.

"Think you can shut me up?"

He takes the hint, sliding his legs back over the ledge, letting you finish unbuttoning his shirt to expose his creamy skin. You spread your fingers over his firm abdomen, flicking aside the sheer fabric. He's intoxicatingly sensitive, muscles tensing as you follow the path of water down his long waist.

"You sure you want to play this game?" Doyoung asks, hand resting on your shaking fingers as you struggle to unbutton his damp jeans.

You look down at Jaehyun, smiling at him when you find he's still enraptured by your upper thighs. You wait until he looks back up, head cocked for permission.

"You alright with sharing me, tonight?"

Miles are crossed, bridges are burned as he contemplates the ask, returning to his shy efforts at warming your naked skin, lifting your hem to dangerous territory.

"Wouldn't dare stand in your way."

Jaehyun's approval is the best thing you've seen in a long time, even more so when he adjusts to be eye level with your now exposed underwear, back pressed to Doyoung's leg.

Jungwoo tugs at the strap of your dress playfully.

"Can puppy wait his turn?" you ask, looking up at your other torturer.

Jungwoo kisses you over your shoulder, messily, before casually breaking one of the thin straps of your dress where it's attached to the delicate gold cherub adornment. The night air pebbles your skin, exposed nipple hardening more as he trails a fingertip lazily around it.

"As long as you need."

He angles you down a bit towards the other man, just as Jaehyun's mouth finds you through the thin fabric of your lingerie–hot and perfect. Your knees are already weak and you have to catch yourself on Doyoung's thighs as you're touched and kissed and licked, still partially submerged and torn between warm and warmer.

There's a bit of menace in Doyoung's face, watching you unzip and find his length. He adjusts a little when you tug down the elastic waistband of his underwear, his cock already mostly erect despite the water. He's not as big as Johnny but perfectly sized, long and veined as he hardens in your hand.

You experiment with laves of your tongue against his flushed head, watching him for a reaction through your lashes.

"Sucking me off before I can even take you on a proper date." He tsks, the sound changing when you lower your head, tongue folding around his tip to devour him whole.

"You look so good with my cock in your mouth," he says. "Wish I could take a picture–"

You cut him short by taking him deeper, feeling him press at the back of your mouth. It's been awhile since you tested your gag reflex.

Thankfully Jaehyun has compromised on watching you while pushing your underwear into your sticky folds, Jungwoo playing with your breasts in the most maddening way possible with soft flicks and tugs.

Both of them are sending you skyrocketing to a level of joy yet unexperienced this lifetime, much less this year. You have to concentrate on Doyoung to keep from falling apart too quickly.

Jungwoo's long fingers help clear your hair from your face so you can breathe, giving them all a better view as you choke, letting drool slip from your mouth as you take it deep and hard.

The noises coming from your throat are nowhere near as obscene as the sounds Doyoung makes, angled back and thrusting weakly with each moan. You always thought his voice was beautiful, scratchy and breathy, but hearing him say your name in between gasps has your entire body enflamed.

"Fuck, you're good," Doyoung says quietly, angled back on his elbows.

Jungwoo holds your damp hair back, wrapping it in his fist to help guide you more gently. You relax your throat and take it, tears leaking from your eyes. If touch had you vibrating before, the sensation of being debased in this way has you dripping, your arousal exposed by Jaehyun's fingers slipping your panties down to the water.

"She's soaked," he says, running a single finger through your folds. You answer with a groan, other hand in his hair to hold him back before he can dip in again.

Jungwoo tests you, too, giving you a few swipes to collect your slick. He brings his fingertips to your mouth when you finally take a breath, letting you clean them.

It's delightful how Doyoung is unraveling already, arched back, eyes glassy. He drinks in the sight of you sucking two of Jungwoo's fingers until your cheeks hollow.

"You think you can finish what you started?" you ask.

"I don't think I'll ever want it to end," he admits.

"How about coming on my tongue?" You ask, pumping him slowly. You chase the taste of yourself with kitten licks of the beads of white on his head, going lower to trace his veins.

"Only if you want to swallow everyone tonight," Doyoung says. The offer is tempting. You hesitate long enough that he reads you like an open book, adding an edge of threat. "Or do you want to be stuffed like the little whore you are?"

The affectation has you seizing up in long-withheld gratification. Jungwoo grinds against your ass as Jaehyun ignores your hold to finally lick long paths up your inner thighs, chasing trails of slippery arousal and water to dive in, fingers spreading your legs wide.

It's impossible to find a retort, sinking back into Jungwoo's embrace as you're attacked from below.

"I think you should only fuck me if you can make me come," you counter. "And it's still Jaehyun's turn–"

Your words are punctuated by a cry, Jungwoo's hand clapped over your mouth as Jaehyun pumps into you with two fingers, hooking into your g-spot.

"Ooh," Jungwoo says over your head. "Guess you'll have to wait."

Doyoung sighs, taking over with his hand when you're bodily dragged back, Jungwoo lifting your dress to take it off.

"Leave it on," Doyoung says. "The ravaged look suits her."

You shoot him a look, unable to maintain your expression when Jaehyun's mouth works likes he's devouring you in turn, teeth scraping as he explores every inch of you, teasing your clit with darts of his tongue. Jungwoo frees your mouth to let you breathe, babbled words of praise spilling from you in between small cries.

"So good, so right, god, fuck–fuck." You're inarticulate as Jaehyun pumps his fingers slowly, spreading you and pressing right below his languid tongueing. Jungwoo's attention returns to your sensitive breasts, gently twisting each bud between his fingertips.

"Keep it down," Doyoung warns, but it's impossible.

Electric tingles spread down to your toes, tipped against the smooth pool floor. You let yourself relax in Jungwoo's hold, curling over your lover's head. Jaehyun is incredibly careful with you even as you're brought deeper, water lapping at his collarbones as he holds you spread and licks you in broad swaths.

"Need a hand?" Jungwoo asks, somehow catching Jaehyun's nod mid-effort. You're unmoored by the hand that slips in from behind, fingers curling into you shallowly, water lapping your immersed buttocks. Jaehyun gives up control but he's still also buried in you, drawing wetness out of you with each stroke of his fingers.

Jungwoo matches his speed, knuckle to knuckle, as Jaehyun moves up to apply pressure to your clit again.

"You two can get her ready. I want her after she's been used," Jungwoo says.

"Of course you do," Doyoung says, dropping back in the water, demanding your attention. You indulge him with your hand, pumping him loosely beneath the surface. It's hard to coordinate as Jungwoo's hand fucks you into the pressure of Jaehyun's grip tight on your upper thighs, each circle of his tongue on your clit making your vision shimmer.

"She's so close. Bet we can make her squirt."

"No," you say, automatically self-conscious.

"Did you hear that? She thinks she has a choice." The heel of Jungwoo's palm smacks wetly against your ass as he finger-fucks you, already too much before Jaehyun seems to pull you towards him, pressing hard into your walls. It's unlike anything you've ever felt, completely at their mercy as Jaehyun applies suction to your clit to bring you to the brink.

"Come for us," Doyoung says. He's pressed to your side, rutting against your waist while taking your mouth to keep the shriek building inside your throat muffled.

There's no controlling the powerful waves tearing through your core, your legs shaking and buckling as the orgasm begins and doesn't seem to end, torn from you between all three of them. A hot gush of liquid coats your thighs as you throb around their fingers, pleasure morphing into pain until you're begging for them to stop.

Jaehyun is the first to let you go, rising to share your release with a crushing kiss that takes your breath away, Jungwoo's fingers still reaching deep inside you.

"Good girl," Jungwoo says. "Was that your first time?"

You nod, cheeks hot, forehead pressed to Jaehyun's. You cling to him, still not quite down to earth from your climax.

"Thank you," Jaehyun says, laughing slightly. "Was that too intense?"

"No," you shake your head. "Just hold me, please."

"Forever," he says, lifting you to straddle his hips. He manages the stairs to collapse on the deck, wrapping you tight in his arms as you kiss him deeply, cleaning his face of your release with gentle swipes of your fingers.

"You sure you don't want to go inside?" he asks, when you begin to unwrap him from his shirt.

"I need you so much," you say. "I can't wait another moment."

He grins, shyly, kissing you as you help him out of his undershirt to reveal his swimmer's frame, triangular torso buckling into visible abdominal muscles. He's breath-taking, even more beautiful when you help him out of his pants and underwear to find his thighs flexed beneath his hard cock, shorter but thicker and so perfectly full and ready for you to sink down on.

He doesn't question taking you raw–brow furrowing in concentration as you adjust to his girth slowly.

"We'll do this without an audience soon," you whisper, hoping he can still hear you as he bottoms out in your heat and his eyes flutter shut.

"Yeah," he says, breathily. He's not moving, soaking in the sensation of having you completely wrapped around him. "I couldn't wait, either. You feel just as perfect as I imagined."

"So good," you assure him, moving for him. The lingering effects of coming harder than you think you ever have in your life aren't stopping you from bearing down on him, taking him harder and deeper with his wide shoulders for leverage.

"Fuck, baby," Jaehyun growls. "I'm not gonna last like this."

He takes control with a firm grasp on your waist, pumping up into you. Soon he's bouncing you mercilessly into his hips, laid back on his wet clothes.

You haven't forgotten about the other two men, not when Doyoung's kneeled behind you, straddling Jaehyun's legs to stroke himself against the swell of your ass.

Jungwoo grabs your hand to wrap around his own exposed cock, letting you feel him before you can even take in the sight of him bobbing over your head. Your finger and thumb can barely connect around his shaft, length too much to fit half of it in your mouth before you know it will be in your throat. Now you understand why the screams you'd heard from his room always sounded on the borderline of pain.

"Too much for you?" He asks, angling the velvety soft head to catch on your open lips. Jaehyun slows down his thrusts to let you ease into taking the other man, pumping Jungwoo's base as best as you can as you sloppily accept the suffocation.

"Must have had a lot of practice getting your throat fucked to take me so well," he says, angling your head to move past the back of your tongue. You can't answer so you squeeze his balls instead, applying just enough pressure with your nails to have him groaning in appreciation.

You lose your rhythm when you feel spit drip down your back, Doyoung collecting your earlier release from your thighs and mixing it with his saliva to rub his fingers against your puckered hole.

"Are you gonna be a good girl for all of us?" he asks, pressing a digit into the ring of muscle, causing you to choke on the heavy weight in your mouth.

Jungwoo pulls out, saliva trailing from your lips as he gives you a break to adjust. You press your forehead to the sheer tank separating you from his flat belly as you look over your shoulder.

"I can take it," you say, trying to relax. Doyoung inserts another slender finger, making you clench around him and Jaehyun until the other man is panting.

"I didn't ask if you could take it. I asked if you were going to be good."

"Fuck me and find out," you taunt. He's not like the others–he denies you anything but the wedge of his fingers into your ass, adding a third to stretch you when you're not loose enough.

Jaehyun fucks against the intrusion, holding out until you're closer as he twines his fingers with yours and watches you work Jungwoo's oversized cock in your mouth and hand.

"Knew you were a little slut who wanted to have all her holes stuffed. One of us wasn't enough for you, you had to make us share. I'm the only one who gets to fuck this tight little ass, though."

Doyoung drops another gob of spit on the dimple at the base of your spine, letting it slide over the gape left when he slides out his fingers. You cry out at the first intrusion of his cock into your barely-lubed hole, fighting to stay on top of Jaehyun as he works in with shallow thrusts, inch by agonizing inch.

"Keep forcing me out," Doyoung says. "I'll just fuck you harder."

As if to prove his point he grabs on to your ruined dress at the back, arching your spine for you and making you take him deeper. The burning pain blurs into delicious aching pleasure–you needed this more than you could have even imagined. Jaehyun grunts inarticulately, palming your breasts and squeezing them in time to the ecstatic shudders rolling through your body as you're filled.

"Open up for me," Jungwoo says, cock back in your gaping mouth. You let him hold you by the hair to fuck into your mouth, spit and tears mixing to splash on your breasts.

When they resume their individual efforts you feel yourself being pulled apart by sensation, only able to manage sharp breaths through your nose to keep from drowning as tears leak from your eyes and sobs rip from your throat.

"No cumming until she creams herself on Jaehyun," Doyoung says, reaching around to press hard into your clit. It's a hard ask with how overstimulated you already are but you can feel your muscles tightening against your will. Doyoung and Jaehyun's uhhs and mms mix in your ears, Jungwoo softly praising you when your jaw relaxes to swallow him despite the rock of your body against the other two.

"Fuck she's so tight," Jaehyun says. "I don't know if I can wait."

"Wait." Doyoung orders, picking up his pace. "She's close. Make sure she remembers to breathe."

Jungwoo groans, pulling out with a last slap of his head on your tongue, letting you lap at the precum leaking from him. "You two are useless."

He kneels down beside you, wresting Doyoung's hand away from your sore folds and rubbing soft, tight circles around your nub. It's not the stimulation as much as his mouth on yours, kissing with as much care and intimacy as you'd felt before, that carries you to a peak again.

"Oh fuck," Jaehyun says, lifting you with a last upwards jerk of his hips and spilling inside you. The rush of warm heat is so good you chase it, overworked muscles unable to hold against the sensation and twitching powerfully around both of their cocks buried deep inside you.

Just as quickly your knees give out, collapsing half on Jaehyun and Jungwoo. Doyoung's shallow movements turn violent as he no longer bothers to keep you locked on Jaehyun, thrusting a few more times into your throbbing heat before emptying himself and pulling out to rub the last few spurts onto your skin.

"Shh," Jungwoo says when you continue to whimper, sniffling from the tears sliding down your cheeks. "You're almost done."

You shake your head half-heartedly, clinging to his shirt. You're dizzy, adrenaline fading and leaving you boneless and blotted out.

"Please. Maybe just a breather?" you beg. "My legs . . ."

Jaehyun lifts you, and you hiss at the raw pain of your abused knees, grit brushed away by someone else's hands.

"Poor baby." Doyoung says. "Should have done this in bed but you just couldn't wait."

"'S fine," you mumble, swimming in the glow of your last orgasm. "Bed sounds nice."

"Get a towel," Jungwoo says, and Jaehyun rushes to grab one for you. Instead of cleaning or drying you off Jungwoo carries you to the edge of the pool, slipping in and cramming the soft fabric under you as he lets your legs dangle over the edge and into the water.

"What are you doing, puppy?" You manage to ask, holding on to his neck.

"Don't worry. I'll be careful," he says, palming himself between your legs. "Someone want to keep her head up? I need her to watch."

Jaehyun adjusts to embrace you from behind, spreading your limp legs so they can all see the steady leak of cum from your gaping holes. You hear the telltale click of a picture being taken, distantly aware Doyoung's phone is still–obviously–working.

"What . . . ?" You ask drowsily, acquiescencing to the pull of your dress over your head and off of you. You shiver deeply, warmed by the body heat of the man behind you as the other strips in front of you.

"You're going to come for us one more time," Jungwoo says, rising out of the water to pump himself at your leaking core. "I'm not letting you go until I can wring every last drop out of you."

"Fuck," you protest, writhing as he pulls you almost off the hard deck and onto his ready length. Jaehyun holds you tight, arm under your breasts as Jungwoo slides into the mess of cum and slick between your thighs.

"That's right, take it," Jungwoo says, pinning you against Jaehyun. "Breathe, baby."

"Too much," you sob, finding he's not even fully sheathed when the familiar ache in your belly of being hit too deep whites out your brain.

"You don't want your puppy?" Jungwoo can barely speak, ramming in deeper with each rock of his hips. "Don't want to be a good mommy and take all of me?"

Jaehyun is already semi-hard against your back, and you catch Doyoung's approval before he replaces it with a feigned look of disgust, slipping into the water to watch you both. You can see his arm flex, jerking himself underwater, the other holding his phone up.

"If we'd known you were such a whore we would have fucked you sooner. It looks like you'll need some more breaking in."

You cry out, stretched tight around the thicker root of Jungwoo's cock, letting him wrap your legs over his shoulders for maximum depth. Whatever pain you feel is so merged with the fullness and perfect hit of him against your walls that you don't mind it, you can't help but slip into a dreamy state of bliss.

"You're doing so well," Jaehyun says into the hair at your temple. "Can't wait to treat you right. Make you come on my tongue again as many times as I can before the sun rises."

"No, no, no," you moan.

Jaehyun pinches your nipple to wake you up, Jungwoo gasping when you manage to clench around him.

"You both got her pussy first. You should let me take her tonight. Keep her awake by fucking her as soon as she falls asleep." Doyoung threatens, pulling your leg aside to get the best angle of you being impaled and stretched fuller than you'd ever thought you could be.

"No one's getting her if she doesn't come again," Jungwoo says. He meets your tear-filled gaze, eyes half-lidded. "Is that what you want? To fall asleep on my cock and let me warm you all night until you're ready to fuck me?"

"Please, come for me, puppy," you manage to bite out, touching yourself in earnest to try and fight back. "So big for me, fill me up."

He takes the bait–you're folded in half, legs bent to your chest as he drives in, balls slapping wetly against you. When you're pliant again he readjusts his strokes to press into your upper walls with each rotation of his hips, and for the first time in a long time you realize you're getting close on cock alone.

Jaehyun seems to feel the change in you, grinding against your back as his hand holds your throat so you can't turn away. The pressure makes you practically feral, crying out for more.

"Just like that, like that, please please please," you moan over the lap of the water.

"Feel you sucking me in," Jungwoo says, face flushed and sweaty over you, hair dripping water onto your curled belly. "Let go for me so I can come in you so deep you can taste it."

"Yes, yes, please." You buck with the sudden electric tingle of another climax, steady tempo leading you to softer spasms than before. It's fine if you can't tell where you're at or what you're feeling because Jungwoo can, one final snap of his hips dropping you into fucked out darkness.

When you come to again you're wrapped around him in the pool, gasping at the sensation of his cock still slowly pumping the last of his release into you.

"Trust me," he says, hands under your backside, lowering you into water suspended between the night and the warmth below.

Doyoung spreads a hand over your breasts, Jaehyun beside him to hold your neck like he's teaching you to float. You let your mouth fall open and your eyes clench shut, tasting pool water before one of them–Doyoung probably, by the sounds--releases thick, white stripes across your tongue. Jaehyun follows suit, cockhead nudging against the underside of your breast as he paints your torso with molten heat.

"Fuck that was incredible," Jungwoo says, slipping out of you finally so you can sink into the water. You submerge as much as you can to lose the coat of stickiness, until Doyoung decides you're done, pulling you out and against his chest.

"That was . . . a lot," you admit, shaking against him.

"You did so well." He soothes you with a hand on your head, clearing your hair from your face delicately to press a kiss to your forehead. The gesture is so at odds with his recent persona that you can't resist burrowing into it, relaxing fully against his naked chest. "Not bad for an initiation."

"I'm one of you, now?" you murmur.

"Always were," Jaehyun says. He doesn't dare take you from Doyoung but he does lean down to kiss you deeply, hand running broad circles over your spine.

"Just think of all those red cards as an invitation." Jungwoo jokes, sinking down to eye level to caress your cheek.

You remember scraped knees and busted lips, cafeteria trays dumped on you by entire tables of jealous girls and sycophantic boys. Johnny humiliating you, ordering you to clean his shoe with his tongue when you'd taken the place of your weaker friend who'd spilled on it.

But you also remember the small moments of acknowledgement–the way Jungwoo had lingered outside your work waiting to get off when you closed to walk you home at night, or how Doyoung had bought out the entire store when you'd used the shitty part-time job as an excuse to duck out of being his date to a formal dinner you had no business being at.

And most of all, all those hours spent sitting beside Jaehyun in your rooftop retreat, silently appreciating the late afternoon sun turning the city brilliant as you shared one half of a wired headphone.

Maybe having your heart ripped out was worth it, if it meant having this.

"Which one of us do you want to take care of you tonight?" Doyoung asks.

You smile into his cool skin, melting into the knowledge that you've earned a place very few had shared. You'll enjoy it as long as it can last.

"Play for it."

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