#I still feel like we're both forgetting something here

[borderlinereminders]

Losing someone can be so beyond words. Here is some advice for losing a FP but it can probably be applied to losing someone in general!

Some things I like to remind myself are:

The feelings are temporary. They will pass. No matter how crushing they may be, you won't feel like this forever. Sometimes it can help to remember that what we're feeling is temporary because when we forget that and think it's how we're going to feel forever, it can make us feel so hopeless. So here's your reminder. This isn't forever.

You survived without them before, and you can do it again. I promise. It doesn't mean it'll be easy but it can help to have the reminder that we existed before then, and survived before them and we can do both of those things again.

Be kind to yourself. You are valid and you are allowed your emotions.

Healing is not linear. Grief isn't linear. And for a lot of us, when we lose our FP, it is something we need to heal from. It is something we grieve about. And it's okay if we feel ourselves doing better for a bit and then falling back. It doesn't mean you've failed or anything like that.

Some things I do:

Note that these are all personal things I do and aren't rules for how you should cope. I'm sure your own list will differ! But maybe my list will inspire you to think of ideas for your own list!

Focus on myself. Even when it's uncomfortable and I don't want to, I focus on my hobbies. I focus on finding new hobbies. Sometimes I make a list of different hobbies I've never tried, and then I go through it and try them at least once to see if I enjoy something. If not, it gets scratched off. These could be new shows, books, activities, etc.

Feel the emotions. Usually not all at once because it's too much, but my instinct is to bury the emotions. To turn my emotions off entirely ((I'm sure others relate to the turning them off thing. It's like a switch I can use). And it's uncomfortable, but sometimes I force myself to feel them. In bits as I can handle it. Allow yourself time to grieve.

Focus on my DBT skills like Urge Surfing for any urges that arise or Radical Acceptance for accepting my feelings.

Come up with a Crisis Plan in case I start to spiral. Here’s my walk through on that.

I diversified my relationships. I think this is an important thing to do. Even if you have a FP currently. Diversifying your relationships to have other people in your support system can be really good.

This is a personal choice, but I cut off all ties. I used to keep screenshots of messages they wrote assuring me they cared and stuff like that. I deleted all screenshots. I also made sure I couldn't look at their profiles and check on them. I made sure their numbers were deleted and anything else.

I like to do nice things for someone else. It's hard sometimes to get there, but there's a feeling I get when I make someone smile or help someone out that makes me feel a bit lighter. It reminds me that I am valuable as I am. This is actually a part of the ACCEPTS skill if you're interested in reading more about that.

Work on forgiving myself. Maybe you don't feel you need this, and that's valid. But I did. I had to learn to forgive myself for not knowing better, for making mistakes, and I always remind myself that I am human. In connection with this, I work on letting go of any regrets I have. It's easier said than done, I know. It's important for me to remember that I can't change the past, so dwelling on any regrets doesn't help me. What I can do is learn from them and do better.

I know it's hard. But it really does get better. I have lost FP's and thought the entire world was ending and that I would never recover. I still think about them sometimes, but it's such a dull ache that I barely notice it. It might always hurt a little, but it will be manageable.

Here are some other coping ideas.

You can do this.

#faq #advice #I wrote this before on a group blog I left #so I’m putting it in my own blog

[luveline]

spoilers for spider-man: across the spider-verse below

please don’t read any further if you are avoiding spoilers

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞 | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚

miguel hops dimensions expecting a new family, and a new life. he’s not expecting you —featuring a tired miguel and his confused but adoring wife. or, miguel gets the comfort he so desperately needs. requested here. fem!reader, 2.5k

tw. gun mention/no graphic scenes

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Miguel seems different when he comes home that night. You've loved him for years, you know his face. He looks slightly younger and older at the same time, impossibly so. He looks like he has bad news and he doesn't want to tell you. Something harrowing. How else can you explain his expression? 

You stand up from the dinner table. "Hey," you say gently. "Is there something wrong?" 

He isn't convincing when he answers, "What? Uh, no. Nothing's wrong." 

"Something looks wrong." 

You step in front of him and lift your chin. Usually, he'd look down with a smirk, or at the very least a smile, but he seems weary. You lift your hand to his cheek, pinching it between your fingers without malice. 

"Smile, handsome. You have a lovely smile." 

He smiles. His lips part just slightly. "You… you really love me. You're happy." 

"We're happy," you correct. "Me, you, and Gabs forever, right?" 

"Gabs?" he asks. 

"Don't start with me. Gabriella's a mouthful. A beautiful mouthful," you concede. "I still think we should've named her Sofia. And yeah, Miguel. I love you. Really really. Don't forget it." 

You make him sit at the kitchen table. It's a selfish manoeuvre; you want him to sit so you can actually reach his hair. Your husband is the tallest man you've ever met. 

"Did you get a haircut?" you ask, running your fingers through his hair slowly. He shivers at your touch, and tilts his head back in question. "You did. That's such a betrayal, my love. I've been cutting your hair for going on six years now, I'm suddenly not good enough?" 

"You're good enough," he says. He really sounds so strange. 

"I'm joking. Miguel, if there's something wrong, you really need to tell me. I can make it better. Well, I can try." You bite your lip, unnerved by his quiet, solemn air. 

"Am I being weird?" he asks.

"No," you say, worried he thinks you're judging him. You never would. (He's being really weird.) "Of course not, you're just quiet tonight, that's all. Did you have a bad day at work?" 

"I– I got mugged. On the way home from work. I forgot the– the milk." 

"You what?" you ask, eyes widening in shock. Miguel's kind of gigantic. You've always said that you pity the fool who tries it, but apparently he's less hardy than you thought. A mugging explains his weird behaviour these last five minutes, at least. "What happened? Sweetheart, are you okay?" 

You take his face into both hands. He has dark circles under his eyes and a scratch along his jaw, but he seems unhurt. You suppose being attacked would age you instantaneously too. 

"Miguel, are you in shock? Should I take you to the hospital?" 

"I'm okay. I just feel strange." 

"Are you sure?” He nods hurriedly. You purse your lips. “I'll make you something warm to drink, that'll help. As long as you're not hurt, right? Did he take your wallet? We'll have to cancel your credit card." 

Miguel catches your shirt before you can go too far. 

"Hm?" you hum in question. 

Miguel visibly deliberates. His eyebrows lift ever so slightly. "Could I hug you?" 

The hurting and worry you have for him intensify before falling on the back-burner. You can shove your own feelings aside easily if he needs comforting. 

"I don't think you have to ask me," you say, offering your arms. 

Miguel is usually a short but meaningful hugger. You've hugged so many times and in what feels like every place on earth, and he's such a tall man that even if he doesn't mean for them to be, his arms are all encompassing.

It surprises you that this hug is different. He's tentative. When his hand falls to the small of your back it slots into place, and you can feel his relief like a palpable thing. 

"You’re okay," you say, your lips at his crown, your legs between his.

He's keeping space between you, and you don't like it. You press yourself as close to him as possible, your arms behind his shoulders, cupping the back of his head. Soft hair tickles your palm.

"Was it scary?" 

"Was what scary?" he asks. You don't mention his little sniff. He's smelling your hair. 

"Being mugged? Did he have a gun?" 

"Yeah, he did." 

"Oh, I see. There's no shame in being scared, you know that?" 

"I'm not scared. I wasn't scared when it happened. I just wanted to come home to you." 

You frown. His admission is like a barb in your chest, aimed true for your heart. "I'm so glad you did," you confess against his forehead, a murmur of sound. "So, so glad. I don't know what I'd do without you." 

You kiss his head three times in a row. The last kiss lingers, his arms slackening around you. 

You pull away, not wanting to smother him. Whoever's watching knows he's had enough of you these last few years. 

"Where–" Miguel clears his throat. "Where's Gabriella?" 

"She's in her room. Call her." 

You're hoping time with her will bring him back into focus. He's clearly more affected by this than he's willing to say. You don't know how you feel about it. Terrified, because you could've lost him. Euphoric that you didn't. You'd had this funny feeling all day long, and it's weird, you’d felt that something bad happened, a moment at the sink with Gabriella singing in her room, the clock ticking on the wall. Miguel late, but promising to bring the groceries you needed home with him before dinner. 

"Gabriella?" he calls up the stairs. You watch from the stove. 

You'll grab the pan and make him some hot cocoa. Just as soon as he stops looking scared. 

"Daddy?" Gabriella asks back. She's audibly ecstatic, and her footsteps are a stampede from her bedroom. You can see her from the kitchen when she gets to the bottom of the stairs. "Dad, pick me up!" 

"Oh, right," Miguel says, leaning down to hold her. 

He pulls her with all the grace of an elephant to his chest, and she nearly chins him. 

"Woah, careful." 

"Dad, you're super late. Mom said I can yell at you for being late." 

"You can yell at me, if you want to." He gives her a curious look. "I'm sorry for taking so long." 

Gabriella tilts her head to the side, dark hair shifting. She's a gorgeous little girl and her dad can't withstand it, melting as you hoped he would, the taut string of his back finally cut in two.  

"I don't want to yell at you," she whispers. 

"Good, because I don't want you to yell," he whispers back. 

Gabriella leans back in his arms and giggles thickly. He almost drops her, and has to readjust his hold on her back. 

"I'm so happy you're home!" she cheers, bringing her little hands up together from her chest and thrusting them out like fireworks. "You work too much! I thought doctors was s'posed to make everyone better and go home." 

"I'm not that kind of doctor," he says. 

You turn from where you've brought cocoa powder and milk to an emulsified simmer on the stovetop and beam at him. It's your favourite thing in the whole world when she mixes it up. Ever since she found his ID card with DR. written clear as day before his name, she's been under the impression that he works at the general hospital. Alchemex might break medical thresholds, but it is far from a hospital. 

"Are you having hot cocoa with your dad?" you ask Gabriella. 

She gasp in excitement and lists toward you. Miguel almost drops her for a second time. "Yes, oh my gosh!" 

"Well, come and sit. What mug?" 

Gabriella can't decide on what mug she wants; there's the orange cat with too many whiskers, there's the black one with bright white stars. After some deliberation, she decides on her and Miguel's matching daddy-daughter mugs.

"You're having some too, right?" he asks you. 

"Don't I always?" you ask. "Though I do want to protest the mugs. Where's my mug? Don't I deserve number one mom?" You kiss the top of Gabriella's head where she languishes in Miguel's lap, before placing their hot cocoa down far from her arm's reach. "It's hot." 

Miguel doesn't touch his. You blow cold air at Gabriella's and dip your fingertip into it periodically, content to spend some time with them both in amicable quiet. Gabriella just loves him to pieces, and she leans back in his arms with her eyes closed, basking in his closeness. 

She squints at you with one eye. "Dad?" 

Miguel doesn't answer. You nudge his foot. 

"What?" he asks.

"You're not doing the thing." 

"The thing?" 

You frown. 

"Yeah, dad." She huffs and curls his arm manually across her front. "Please, I want the kisses." 

He looks at you, completely lost. You're feeling similarly confused. "She wants you to kiss her hair," you say, wondering if perhaps he's suffering from stress related amnesia. 

He leans down carefully and kisses her hair. It's not the usual enthusiastic kiss, and he doesn't bother blowing in her ear after. 

Gabriella glares at him. "My ear!" 

"Blow in her ear," you mouth. 

He blows gently into her ear. She shivers, shudders, and laughs up a storm. 

When the cocoa's been drunk and the mugs washed and put away, Gabriella races upstairs, promising to return with a storybook and the drawing she made earlier in the day once she’s changed into her pyjamas. Miguel looks less lost than he had. In fact, he looks normal. The warm drink has put colour in his cheeks, and his daughter's cuddles have done their job. He's relaxed. He's forgotten the fear of the mugging, you're almost sure of it. 

You waver beside him. "Can I sit with you, or am I too heavy?" 

"Why would you be too heavy?" he asks. 

"You always say I'm too heavy," you say, sitting down on his thighs. They feel solid, a little different from usual. Miguel works out, but this is strange. He must be more tense than you thought. "It's your worst joke." 

"I'm sorry. I won't say it if it upsets you," he says, his voice rough and low. 

"Who said anything about that?" He's never called you heavy to be cruel. 

"Sorry," he apologises again. "I think all the excitement today messed me up." 

You spread your fingers wide across his chest, his heart beating a surface below. "It's okay. You don't have to react any one way…" You rub the tip of your nose against his jaw lightly. "I'm so glad you're okay. I had this weird feeling like something bad happened to you, you know?" 

Miguel laughs and coughs at the same time. It borders on being distressed. He's really worrying you. "You did?" he asks. 

"Mm-hm. But you're okay." You work hard to sound sure. 

His hand slides between your legs, fingertips digging into the soft inside of your upper thigh, though it doesn't stay there. He pulls away, looking flustered. "Sorry." 

"For what?" You blink. 

"I don't know." 

You laugh and press a kiss to the column of his throat, your nose squished against him. "I was thinking we'd watch that new movie tonight, with Harry Woodson, but it has guns and stuff. Would that still be okay?" 

He puts his hand behind your ear and guides your head back to look you in the eye. It's a familiar touch. He looks like himself again, though you truly are offended by his haircut. Maybe something happened at work and fried it off. 

"You're really something special," he says quietly. 

"How so?" 

His face softens with your flirting tone. "You're kind. You're so kind. I've never met someone like you." 

"What are you talking about?" you mumble. It's your turn to feel flustered, jellified by the earnestness lining his features. 

"You're sweet, and soft, and so pretty," he says, matching your tone. He's looking at you like he's seeing you for the first time. 

You understand the feeling. Sometimes you look at him and can't believe he's your love. 

"Soft," you repeat. "Are you trying to say something?" 

"Like that. That joke. You don't even sound mad." 

"You don't have to be so amazed. I've been like this since we met, haven't I? I'm hardly ever angry with you." You follow down from his eye to his jaw with your knuckle, tracing a tear he hasn't shed. He's spun you into thoughtfulness, and more than that —reverential fondness for him aches in the very centre of your stomach.  

"I must have some good luck," he says. 

His near death experience has inspired a wave of sappiness. 

You lean in until your forehead touches his, giving him time to close his eyes or lean away if he wants to. 

"I love you," you say simply. "You're not lucky, you're amazing, and all this good you see in me? I see it in you, O'Hara." You huff a laugh, breath fanning over his top lip as you steal a wonky kiss. You pull back. "You're sure–" 

Miguel kisses you. His hand flies to the back of your neck and his lips are eager, his head tilted to one side to accommodate your nose. He deepens the kiss and it's a mess, really, nothing like his usual kisses, no practised ease, nor confident touches. His fingertips push at the hairs lining the nape of your neck as though he's not sure what to do with his hand. It's like kissing him for the very first time. 

It's not a bad kiss. 

You kiss back slowly. You're the steadying constant to his hotheadedness, in kissing and in everything else, pulling time into an endless stretch of his mouth under yours, his body heat seeping into your skin. 

The sharp point of a tooth catches your bottom lip. You gasp into his mouth and flinch away from him. 

"Um, ouch? What was that, handsome, did you get your teeth filed to spikes?" you ask, probing your lip, a flood of giggles slipping between your fingers. 

He looks at you like you've lit the sky one star at a time. 

"Sorry," he says. "I'll be more careful, I swear." 

"Sure," you laugh. "Well, you'll have to be more careful later. You promised Gabriella you'd read her the Wishing Tree, and she's expecting a performance. Voices included." 

He adjusts you in his lap with more strength than you knew he had. "Will you help?" 

You'll always help him. He doesn't even need to ask. 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed!!

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara fanfic #miguel o’hara fic #miguel o’hara drabble #miguel o’hara scenario #miguel o’hara blurb #miguel o’hara oneshot #spider-man: across the spider-verse #spider-man: across the spider-verse spoilers #spider-man: across the spider-verse fanfiction #across the spider-verse spoilers #across the spider verse spoilers #across the spiderverse spoilers #spiderman across the spider-verse spoilers #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel ohara x fem!reader #miguel ohara #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel ohara fanfic #miguel ohara fic #miguel ohara drabble #miguel ohara scenario #miguel ohara blurb

[mssainz]

PART 6 | AFTER FIVE YEARS

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x Reader

Summary: Carlos Sainz finally met his son he had with her ex-wife, Y/N.

Warning: Typos

AN: Please don't mind the time stamps

You choose a casual and comfortable outfit for the day: a white tee, beige trousers, and a white cardigan, and finish it off by spraying Chanel Paris Deauville on your neck and wrist.

“Mama, where are you going?” Asks Cael, who is lying on your bed, watching you get ready.

You sit on the edge of the bed and stroke your son's hair. “Remember what you told Mama yesterday when we were having pancakes? You said you wanted to see Papa and watch his race. So, Mama is going to see Papa today and ask if you can watch his race,” you gently explain.

“Really Mama? You'll meet Papa?” Cael sits up, flashing a vibrant smile.

“Yes, my love. I can't bring you because Papa and I need to talk first. But someone who misses you is coming to take care of you,” you say, placing Cael on your lap and planting a kiss on his plump cheeks. He gives you a confused face, wondering who's been missing him.

“You wanna take a guess?” you ask, smiling at your son who is trying to figure it out.

“Is it Uncle Charles, Mama?” Cael guesses.

“Oh, how did you know?” you ask, surprised that he got it right.

“He always misses me. He says so even though we often meet, Mama,” Cael says, causing you to laugh.

As you two are playing in your bedroom, the doorbell rings. It's Charles.

“Hey buddy!” Charles immediately lifts Cael, ignoring you who opened the door for him.

“Hello to you too Charles,” you said sarcastically.

“Hello, Y/N” he said, greeting you too late.

“Thanks for coming, Charles,” you say, while he's busy kissing your son.

“But stop smooshing your face on my son's face. It’s a bit too much,” you add.

“Can't help it, he is so cute,” Charles replies.

“I'll go now, please take care of him,” you say, kissing your son goodbye. And before you can even open the door, Charles yells something.

“Don't forget to bring a condom!”

“Shut up, Charles” you said while flashing your middle finger to him.

“Uncle Charles, what's a condom?” Cael asked him.

“Uhm, it's a balloon bud. So you won't have another sibling when they get back.” Charles grins at Cael who is confused about how a balloon prevents him from having a baby brother or sister.

When you arrive at the restaurant, Carlos is already there waiting for you. He greets you with a smile as you approach his table. The atmosphere feels lighter than the last time you two met.

Maybe it's just the sunlight that makes everything seem brighter.

“Did you already order?” you immediately ask as you sit down.

“Uhm, not yet,” Carlos replies. You call out for the waiter to order.

As you scan the menu, Carlos interjects, “You want your usual?” Surprised, you nod and let him order for you.

“One creamy mushroom pesto for her, please, and one tomato pasta for me,” he orders.

So he still remembers what I like. Interesting.

“Thank you for coming, Y/N. I'm sorry about..” Carlos starts.

“Let's not talk about it Carlos. I'm good, we're good. Things like that happen,” you interrupt. Carlos can tell that you're still upset about what he said but you want to move past it.

“We came here to Madrid because Cael has been asking for you. He badly wants to meet you.”

“I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner about our son because, well, things happened between us,” you say, lowering your gaze to the table.

“I understand, Y/N. Like you said, things happen,” Carlos replies.

“He knows you, Carlos. He knows what you do. He knows that you're his father. You just have to meet him,” you say, meeting his gaze and offering a small smile.

“Thank you, Y/N.”

The pastas arrive and you both start to eat.

“I'm so excited to finally introduce myself to him. But I'm also kinda nervous,” Carlos admits.

“You don't have to worry about it, Carlos. Your son really loves you,” you reassure him.

“Can you tell me about Cael? Like when he was born? What does he like? How is he?” Carlos asks shyly. He wants to get to know his son and catch up on the four years he's missed.

“Well, Cael was born on March 15. He's really cute, looks just like you,” you begin.

“So you're telling me I'm cute?” Carlos teases, interrupting you. You give him a stern look before continuing.

“Ugh, I hate your smile,” you say, rolling your eyes at him.

The audacity of this man, really.

“He loves cars, I think more than you do. He's also very smart and observant. Our son is very empathetic,” you continue.

“Really?”

“Yeah, you'll be amazed when you finally get to know him,” you assure him.

“How about you? How are you?” he asks.

“You have nothing to do with me, let's keep it that way,” you say, putting up an immediate barrier. You can only allow Carlos to be part of your son's life, but not yours. He caused too much damage in the past, and you won't allow further heartbreak.

I've had enough, Carlos.

After an hour or two, you and Carlos drive to your place. You're silent the whole time, thinking about how happy Cael will be to finally meet his father.

Before you can even get out of the car, Carlos takes a deep breath.

“Hey, look at me, Carlos. Don't worry, okay? Everything will be fine,” you say, absentmindedly cupping his face.

“Sorry,” you apologize, removing your hands from his face.

“It's okay,” Carlos says, amidst the awkwardness.

Once inside, you find Charles playing with Cael in the living room. Cael immediately runs to you when he sees you.

You enter first while Carlos waits outside for your signal.

“Hey, how was it?” Charles asks, referring to your meeting with Carlos.

“He's outside,” you mouth, while holding your son.

“Okay, my job is done. I'll go now, Y/n. You two take care.” Charles fist bumps with Cael before leaving. He sees Carlos standing at the door and wishes him luck.

“Cael, honey. Do you remember Uncle Chili?” Cael nods at you.

“You mentioned that he looks like Papa, right? Actually, he doesn't just look like Papa. He is Papa,” you explain.

“Really Mama? So Uncle Chili is my Papa?” Cael's face lights up. You nod and open the door.

“Hey bud,” Carlos greets Cael.

“PAPA!” Cael immediately runs to Carlos. Their embrace is warm and heartfelt, much like the first time they met.

“Thank you,” Carlos mouths to you in between their hugs and tears of joy begin to fall from his eyes.

AN: Here's the next part guys. Carlos finally met Cael, for real this time. Let me know your reactions hehe. Comment down if you want to be added to the taglist. I hope you like it. Thank youuu!

TAGLIST:

@seasonswinter @charizznorizz @itsjustkhaos @celesteablack @timmychalametsstuff @viennakarma @i-love-ptv @evie-119 @somepeoplemaybe @amberpanda99 @gotthatname @karlossainz @khaylin27 @hc-dutch @avengers-assemble123456 @likedbygaslyy @xoscar03 @yukiotadako @barcelonaloverf1life @heyheyheyggg @sunny44 @mxdi0 @casperlikej @ironmaiden1313 @biitch-with-wifi @elia-the-bibliophile @nataliazzzz @bernelflo @lillunna @loloekie @jinimon-tr @glai1023-blog @not-nyasa @jolixtreesunn @changetyre @thatsusbitch @distancedss @miarabanana @voidsfics @jasminesacademia @glow-ish @ccallistata @carpediem241108 @thearchieves @kenzeyeballs @formula1simp @dessxoxsworld @hoeforsirius @norwayxo

next part

#f1 x reader #f1 x you #formula 1 x reader #formula one x you #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz #afterfiveyears #f1 imagines

[inkskinned]

i'm used to it, and how bad it is, and how often it's so bad that it rings like a bell inside of me, drowning out everything around me. and the truth is that i get frustrated with myself about it - again? we're like this still? again? it's not that i feel weak, precisely. it's just this sense almost like - i've already been pushing against this thing for years now, shouldn't i have gained more ground?

i get frustrated because i'm sick of picking up the loose ends every six months. i get frustrated because it's always this same shit, same problem - i lose myself in a matter of months; spiral out of control, lose touch with friends and loved ones. i stop taking care of myself and therapy gets hard and i let everything around me wilt and shrivel and fall off; start somehow both sleeping too much and not-enough. i panic-attack and cry in my car in a target parking lot, pulling my hair out and hurting my ribs from sobbing so hard - and later, when i'm better, i'm embarrassed because how could i let it get that far?

it feels like - i already have done this so many times. isn't there a way out of it? isn't there a point where i've just... won? that it never happens again, that i just get to be done? maybe this is weakness, i guess - that i still (so often!) succumb.

i am used to it, so i forget exactly how hard it gets. do you even know how many times i've laid in bed, exhausted, blank and numb and listless and said - i can't anymore. i just can't. i'm not even really upset. it's okay. i've been here long enough. so much of my life was beautiful.... i'm just... done.

do you know how many times i woke up and i said - i can't and put my feet on the floor and said i can't, i don't want to and took a shower and walked the dog and bought myself fresh bread and put a nice playlist on and said i really can't, there's no end to this and i went to work and i called a friend and i made myself cookies even if food tasted like ashes and decided that i really should wait for the new album from that artist i love and i thought i can't, it's not worth it and then i washed my hands and cut my hair and drank more water and wrote a poem and signed up for an art class at the local community college and said i can't, i can't, i won't do this again, and i paid my rent and let the dishes rot in the sink but still made myself eat anything fresh even if it meant overdrawing my account on a stupid bag of plums just because they looked delicious and do you know how often i closed my eyes and thought this is it i really fucking can't, something has to give and i have nothing left that it can take and then i went to bed and i got up and i fucking survived anyway

yesterday the local ice cream place opened up for the first time this season and they were giving out tiny samples of their new dairy-free options and i tried a mango sorbet. three months ago i was positive that februrary was going to be my last month on the planet. i am teaching my dog a new trick and i just discovered a new band i love. i got a plant from the clearance aisle and repotted her and she's been perking up. i made salmon for alison and we ate it in her new house with her new beautiful baby girl. my manager told me he keeps recommending my work to others just because i always include a stupid number of puns. tomorrow i'm trying a new dance class. tomorrow i'm maybe going to buy more plums.

i forget, you know? it's not some bone-deep strength or some magical power. it's that some part of me knows - i need to stay. in all of this; out of all of this - i just want to choose love.

#writeblr #this is too honest and writing it made me cry #sorry #poetry

[lilasamaaa]

Ignorance is bliss | Max Verstappen x Reader

Genre | Angst, Hurt/Comfort.

Word count | 3K.

Warnings | Brief mentions of sexual activities, panic attack, Max and reader get in a fight.

Summary | Max and you have been dating for several months, and everything is going well. Except when paparazzi start chasing you for no reason. Is your boyfriend hiding something from you?

Author's note | This was requested by @butterflyexe ! Thank you lovely for the great idea! I tweaked it a bit though, so I hope you like it! I loved writing this piece but again, sorry for the crippling angst lmao 🥲 Not proofread as usual, oopsie

The doorbell of your apartment rings, and you leap off your couch, opening the door and throwing yourself into your boyfriend's arms.

"Oh, wow," Max says, pressing a kiss to your head. "Did you know it was me or do you throw yourself into the arms of everyone who rings your doorbell?" he adds, laughing.

"Of course I knew it was you," you reply, laughing too. "I've been waiting for you all week. And I noted that your flight was landing an hour ago, so it lined up," you explain, taking his hand and leading him to the couch, where you both sit down.

Max looks tired, the bags under his eyes casting blue and gray shades on his pale skin. He moves to lie down on the couch, resting his head on your thighs, closing his eyes.

"How was the work trip?" you ask, playing with his hair.

"It was great," he finally replies, opening his eyes and meeting yours. "Quite tiring, but interesting. It was nice to, erm. See my colleagues again," he says.

"I still can't believe your company paid for the trip all the way to Australia," you whisper as Max closes his eyes again under your caresses. "If I had known the automotive industry required you to travel that much, I would have applied for the job."

Max doesn't respond, simply taking one of your hand in his and gently stroking your knee with the other.

"You must feel so out of it with the jet lag..." you continue, concerned. "It's a good thing they gave you a few days to rest. When are you expected back at work?"

"Not until next week," Max says, playing with the rings on your fingers.

"And you said you're going to Japan after? That's such a weird ass schedule," you say, making him laugh. "I feel like you travel more than most influencers... Or even athletes," you state, making him open an eye.

"Perks of the job," Max says before planting a soft kiss on your lips, and standing up. "Can I borrow your shower?"

"Of course! You know the way," you wink at him, heading towards the kitchen. "I'll fix us something to eat in the meantime."

Sitting at the small table in your kitchen, illuminated by a few candles and the lights of the city outside, Max devours the plate you placed in front of him a few minutes ago. You silently observe him, both fascinated by the man before you and disturbed by a thought that has plagued you in his absence.

"I've been thinking," you start, making your boyfriend look up.

"Yeah? Tell me," he says, covering your hand with his.

"How come I've never been to your place?"

Max stops chewing, his light eyes fixated on yours.

"I didn't know you wanted to?" he replies, brows furrowed.

"Well I've never asked to, but isn't that how it usually works in a relationship? Once at mine, once at yours?"

"I'm sorry," Max replies. "I didn't realize it was important to you."

You suddenly feel guilty and squeeze your boyfriend's hand, giving him a warm smile.

"Forget it, sorry," you say, getting up to rinse your plate. "That was stupid. You're right, we're fine here."

After dinner, you and Max settle on the couch again, watching some show on Netflix. When you notice Max fighting against sleep, his eyelids heavy and his breath short, you grab the remote before turning off the TV. The sudden silence jolts him awake, and you laugh before pulling him by the arm and leading him down to your bedroom. You make a quick stop in the bathroom to remove your makeup and brush your teeth and, when you come back to the room, you find Max fast asleep under the covers. The sight is endearing. You press a kiss on his forehead before settling next to him, your cold body against his already warm one.

The next morning, you wake up alone in a cold bed. A familiar smell tickles your nostrils, and you make your way to the kitchen, your eyes still heavy with sleep.

"Good morning!" Max says, already dressed up, and looking much fresher than yesterday. "I made us breakfast."

"Wow, that's so sweet of you," you say before sitting at the table, taking a hot pancake from the plate in front of you.

"I'm sorry for falling asleep so fast yesterday," your boyfriend starts again. "To make it up to you, I'd like to take you out to lunch."

The offer takes you by surprise, and you stare at your boyfriend, mouth agape. It's been five months since you started seeing each other. Five months since you bumped into him by chance at the Monte Carlo casino while you were out dining with friends. Five months of being inseparable, but also five months of very limited outings. Max travels a lot for work, and you don't necessarily have the means to go out regularly in Monaco. Most of the moments you share therefore take place within the four walls of your apartment, and you're thrilled to get some fresh air with him for once.

"You seem happy," he says, snapping you out of your thoughts.

"I am!" you say, pressing a kiss to his lips. "Where are we going?"

"What about Nobu?" Max says.

"What? Max, that's way too expensive," you reply, furrowing your brows.

"It doesn't really matter, given I'll be the one paying."

"No way," you say. "We're splitting the bill. And I'm not paying three grands for some sushis, as delicious as everyone claim they are."

"They really are. So please, let me do this for you. Just this once? I can afford it," your boyfriend says, making you frown.

His words remind you that you don't know what your boyfriend does for a living. He's talked to you about cars, mechanics, but you're having trouble understanding what kind of job in the automotive industry requires so much traveling around the world. A job that apparently pays very well, given the restaurants he frequents. Realizing there's no point in arguing and not wanting to pick a fight with Max, you simply nod, lips pressed together. However, you're counting on one last point to escape the pricey restaurant and hopefully eat elsewhere. Somewhere more affordable.

"Well, if you insist," you finally say, popping a strawberry in your mouth. "I doubt we'll get a table for noon, though," you add. "I heard you have to book months in advance."

"Don't worry about that," Max says, stroking your cheek. "I need to stop by my place real quick before, can we meet there?"

Two hours later, you're sitting at one of the finest tables at Nobu, facing the sea. The fuck just happened, you think, watching your boyfriend immersed in the menu with a raised eyebrow. How? Before you have time to question it further, a waiter brings two champagne flutes and a bottle in a Nobu-stamped ice bucket to your table before hurrying away, thanking you two profusely for coming.

"Did you order this?" you ask Max, making him look up.

"No, I didn't. That's so kind of them."

"What the actual fuck, Max?" you snap, eyes wide. "What's going on?"

"What do you mean?" your boyfriend asks.

"Did you somehow not notice how everyone's been bending over backward for us since we walked in? I think the waitress behind you hasn't taken her eyes off us for the past thirty minutes. And since when do they bring champagne to people who haven't ordered anything?" you say with a worried look. "Are they confusing us for someone?"

"Why are you so worried?" Max asks, giving you a look that's meant to be reassuring but just looks uncomfortable. "Just enjoy the moment. And the view."

You sit back in your chair, biting the inside of your cheek. Something isn't right. You can feel it. Max adjusts one of his hair strands, and the sleeve of his shirt slips down slightly, revealing a watch you've never seen before. It takes you a few seconds to recognize the model, and when you do, your heart skips a beat.

"Is this a new watch?" you ask, trying to act nonchalant.

"What? Oh, yeah. Bought it in Melbourne."

"You casually bought a Rolex Daytona?" you ask, tilting your head.

"I didn't know you knew about watches," Max says, adjusting the collar of his shirt.

"You don't need to know about watches to know that this model costs almost a hundred thousand euros," you say, eyes boring into his.

The tension at the table has risen a notch, none of you uttering a word. As an anxious waiter places several plates in front of you, you glance around, suddenly realizing something you hadn't noticed before, absorbed in your conversation with your boyfriend.

"There's no one here," you say, still looking around. "It's noon on a Saturday, and the restaurant is empty."

Max sighs, running a hand through his hair.

"I know," he finally says, carefully meeting your gaze. "I wanted us to have some peace."

"What? What did you do?"

"I've privatized the restaurant," he says.

"How did you do that?" you ask, unintentionally raising your voice.

"I paid," Max simply says, grabbing a sushi.

"How much?"

"Several thousands!" Max almost shouts, making you wince. "What's up with all your questions?"

You're completely lost. You don't recognize the man you've been seeing for the past five months. The man who comes to your place by foot, usually in sweatpants, who spends evenings watching Netflix with you. Taking baths with you. Passionately making love to you. You have no idea who this new man is, covered in expensive clothes and accessories, on whom all heads turn and who raises whispers as he passes by.

"Who the fuck are you?" you simply ask, feeling your eyes start to water.

"Baby," Max says, finally realizing how uncomfortable and lost you are. "Please, can we just enjoy the meal? I'll answer all your questions at your place. I'll explain everything, but please. Let's not make a scene," he implores.

You swallow hard, staring at the ceiling to dry the tears in the corners of your eyes. For the rest of the meal, Max talks, telling you about his trip, about his life. You politely answer the few questions your boyfriend asks you, remaining silent the rest of the time. You don't even have an appetite anymore, having swallowed three sushi pieces before your stomach threatened to turn.

At the end of the meal, Max slips a credit card into the folder that a waiter has placed on the table, then adds three hundred-dollar bills. Tip, you think. More than what I earn in a day of work. The price of discretion, probably. The waiter leaves with the folder before coming back, and just as he's about to ask for something, Max shots him a look that makes him close his mouth. Your boyfriend thanks the young man before walking around the table, extending a hand that you grasp to rise as well. You thank the still-empty restaurant staff, giving them a genuine smile despite the anxiety twisting your stomach. Max opens the door for you, and you walk out on the street, thanking him.

For a moment, you curse yourself for forgetting your sunglasses at home, as the Monaco sun blinds you instantly. You blink in surprise, but your blindness persists as Max grabs your wrist and pushes you behind him. You try to open your eyes, but flashes keep assaulting you, and it takes you a few seconds to realize that they're coming from huge cameras pointed just inches away from your face.

"Max?"' you ask with a high-pitched voice, starting to panic.

Max turns around, pressing you against him and covering your eyes as he guides you through the screaming crowd. People push you in all directions, pressing against you, touching your arms, your face, crumpling your clothes. Screaming. At first, you can't make sense of what the voices are shouting, with all your senses being overwhelmed. But suddenly, you hear it. Max. They're screaming his name. Max looks up, and a new series of flashes burn your retinas as your boyfriend holds you even tighter against him, one arm around your shoulders.

"I'm so sorry," you hear him say among the voices.

"What's happening?" you ask, panting.

And, then, you feel it. The panic attack. Even though you've never experienced one before, you immediately understand what's happening to you. You recognize the signs. Your legs give way, and you have to cling to Max to keep from falling to your knees. Your heart rate and breath quicken until they're suffocating, while tears stream down your cheeks.

"I can't breathe," you croak, so weakly that you're not even sure if Max heard you.

"Hang on, baby," your boyfriend says, still walking. "We're almost at the car."

The flashes continue, and so do your tears. Max grips you as tightly as he can, shielding your face, lifting you halfway to help you walk. After a few seconds, the longest of your life, you hear a car door open, and Max gently pushes you into his car before closing the door and jumping in. He wastes no time in starting the engine, cutting through the crowd, disappearing into the alleys of Monaco.

You don't say a word. You're unable to speak. Unable to breathe. Still trembling. Crying. You don't realize it, but Max struggles to tear his eyes away from your body, which seems so small, so battered at this moment. He doesn't speak either, biting his lips until it draws blood. He hates himself. He knows he'll regret making you go through this for a long time. But now, all he can do is explain. Lay all the cards on the table. Something he should have done a long time ago.

The journey seems to last an eternity until you catch sight of a gigantic building, and Max drives into an underground parking. He parks the car and rushes out, opening your door, helping you out. You're still in shock, and Max supports you as he guides you to an elevator. A few seconds later, after twist of his keys, you find yourself in a vast penthouse overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. You don't even have the strength to ask questions anymore. To ask where you are. You sit down on the large couch, wiping the tears from your cheeks. Trying to calm your breathing.

Max watches you, standing at the foot of the couch. Bewildered. Not even daring to come close to you. The two of you stand in silence a few moments, until he finally speaks.

"I know it won't fix anything. But I'm truly, sincerely sorry."

You don't reply, head low. playing with the rings on your finger.

"I owe you some explanations."

No reply.

"I'm a Formula 1 driver."

You finally look up, and the mascara streaks on your cheeks squeeze his heart in the worst way.

"I should have told you earlier. I should have warned you, but I couldn't. With you, I discovered normalcy. Anonymity. I discovered what it was live to have an ordinary life, away from the hustle, the stress, the constant judgment."

"So you knew how precious it was," you say, squinting your eyes. "And yet, you chose to expose me to all of those things."

"I hadn't planned for it to happen. I didn't want it to happen. I tried."

"I can't do this," you reply, feeling fresh tears roll down your cheeks.

Seeing you cry again, Max sits on the couch, pulling you close to him as another sob shakes your body.

"Why?" you ask, crying. "Why did you let me fall in love with the person I thought you were?"

Each of your words, each of your sobs break his heart a little more, but he takes it. He knows your anger is justified. Deserved.

"Because I loved you too. And I didn't want this to stop."

"You lied to me," you say between two sobs. "I trusted you. I trusted you so much."

It's too much. Even for him. A tear runs down his cheek. Max wipes it away angrily.

"If you never want to see me again, I understand. I'll come get my things. I'll erase your number. I won't stand in the way of you living a normal life, of finding love with someone normal. You deserve the best, even if it's not with me."

You hate him.

You despise him for having been himself, his most vulnerable self, with you. For charming you with his awkwardness, his foreign accent, his somewhat strict manners. You hate him for being the perfect man for you. You hate him for making your heart beat so strongly. But above all, you hate him for building your love on a lie, on fragile foundations doomed to collapse and sweep you both away in the wreckage.

"I hate you," you sob, making his heart stop. "And I hate myself even more. For not being able to let you go."

"Baby", he says, moving to kneel in front of you. "If you give me this chance, a chance to rebuild everything with you again, I swear that nothing will ever happen to you again. I won't let anyone near you, anyone touch you. Not even a glance. I will rebuild everything around us. We'll be untouchable. Indestructible."

One month later.

"Are you ready, baby?" Max asks, meeting your gaze. "Once I post it, there's no going back."

"I think so," you say, biting on your fingernails. "Let's get this over with," you add, sitting on his knees while the driver presses a kiss to your neck, softly stroking your leg.

"Okay. Let's do this."

#f1 #f1 2024 #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 #max verstappen #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x female reader #mv1 #mv1 x you #mv1 x reader #mv33 #mv33 x you #mv33 x reader #lilasamaaa #slowly working my way up all the requests lmao

[gammasnippets]

Drive T

SNSD Kim Taeyeon x Male Reader

12,260 words (Co-edited by @capslocked and @sparkynsfws)

Wimbledon—one of the most prestigious tennis tournaments in the world, known for its rich history and iconic traditions. It's the highlight of the tennis season, where the best players from around the globe compete for the coveted title on the hallowed grass courts of the All England Club. This is where names are made, and where legends are born. From casual fans to hardcore tennis enthusiasts, everyone is eager to witness the thrilling matches and the breathtaking displays of skill the players unleash on the courts. And with only a few months to prepare, you do your best to be in your best physical and mental condition for the coming tournament.

That is… If you're one of the qualifying players.

Something suddenly hits your head, snapping you out of your daydreaming. It was a tennis ball, rolling down your face. It's not even a hard hit, but it sure is enough to knock you back to reality. You then scan the tennis court looking for the culprit. Not far from you stands a woman, one hand on her racket and the other on her hip, and she doesn't look pleased.

"Hey! Quit your daydreaming, will you?" says the woman, sounding annoyed.

"That was uncalled for, you know?" you retort as you rub the point of impact, a spark of irritation in your voice.

"I just finished warming up here and the next thing I know, you're in your own world!" she snaps back, clearly unapologetic for her errant shot.

"Well, if only you didn't arrive late, we could've started our practice session on time," you reply, trying to maintain your composure.

The woman doesn't seem to like your response and walks towards you, her face slowly turning red.

"So it's my fault that you scheduled our practice session at such an inconvenient time?"

"What? You told me that you're only available today and that you really wanted to practice," you protest, feeling both confused and frustrated.

"At fucking midnight?" she exclaims, raising her voice.

"Well, it's only an hour after…"

"11 PM, 12 AM… Whatever! It's late in the evening, you dumbass!"

She kinda has a point. Despite the great discount you received for renting the tennis court at nighttime, you begin to realize that scheduling a session close to midnight wasn't the wisest decision.And she has every right to be angry about the inconvenience.

You take a step back, realizing that this argument is getting out of hand.

"Alright, alright… I'm sorry, Taeyeon-noona. I should've checked with you first."

To your relief, her anger softens slightly, and she sighs.

"Well, we're way past that now. Might as well make use of the time while we're here."

"Thanks for understanding…"

"Just don't you ever do this again," she says as she points her racket at you, her tone still sharp. "Or I'll make sure to hit you harder next time."

"Okay. I get it," you reply, feeling intimidated by her fiery demeanor.

You were always intimidated by Taeyeon's fiery demeanor. As your former teacher and tennis club advisor, she's known to be as strict and disciplined. You can't forget the torture she put you through, but that didn't sway you from leaving the sport you're passionate about. And for better, or more likely worse, you and Taeyeon are still in touch after all these years. Maybe you could've found a better partner, but you've never been more comfortable with anyone else other than her.

You and Taeyeon proceed to continue your practice session on the tennis court. Both of you are determined to make the most of the remaining time and improve your skills, ignoring the tension that still lingers in the air. The court fills with the sound of powerful swings, focused footwork, and the occasional grunt of exertion as you both push yourselves to the limit. Well-deserved breaks are taken to catch your breath, sip some water, and exchange a few friendly jokes amidst the intensity.

After a few rounds of intense practice, the two of you decide to take a much longer break.

"Fuck… I need a break," you pant, collapsing onto a nearby bench.

"Jeez. You're tired already?" Taeyeon teases you, as desperate for air as you are.

"You're the one to talk," you retorted, throwing the tease back at her.

"Well, you're the one who keeps on making me run all over the court!" she grumbles as she retires beside you, pouting her lips.

"You gotta do what you gotta do," you reply, smirking.

"Yet I still won," she boasts, a smug grin spreading across her face.

"I only let you win, you know?" you shrug nonchalantly.

Taeyeon laughs out loud at your cocky remark.

"As if! You always trip when you're returning my drop shots."

"Hey… It only happened once."

"More like twice!"

You raise your hands in mock surrender.

"Okay… It happened twice. Happy now?"

"You bet," she continues to laugh. "God, that was funny."

Taeyeon can't help but giggle at your mistakes during the game. As much as you find her laughter infectious, her teasing you might have hit a nerve. You want to retaliate by telling her how equally awful she was at returning her serves. But maybe she deserves this after the earlier exchange.

"So, wanna do a few more rounds?" you propose to Taeyeon, eager to win against her.

"Already? Can't we relax a bit more?" she asks, her body still slumped against the bench.

"Come on. We still have a lot of time left," you urge her, giving her a good nudge with your elbow.

"Exactly! Can't we use the time to rest longer?" she complains, faking an exhausted expression.

You sneer at her, raising an eyebrow.

"Noona, please. Don't be such a baby. You're too old for that," you tell her.

She then lets out a loud gasp. You obviously hit a nerve.

"Hey! I'm not old, you fuck!" she exclaims, raising her voice.

You chuckle. "Yeah, but you're definitely older than me."

"I'm only 34!" she yells, her cheeks turning slightly red.

"You can even pass as my aunt," you joke, unable to resist pushing her buttons even further.

In a hurry, she ejects herself from the bench, ready to argue back.

"Listen here, you little shit. You can joke all you want, but I can kick your ass right here, right now."

Seems like your teasing had the wrong effect on Taeyeon. As if a fuse inside her was lit, she's ready to fight you with words, fists, and probably anything else she can get her hands on.

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry," you apologize, trying to appease her.

But Taeyeon's not having it, and she's still fuming.

"That's not gonna cut it, you asshole," she continues to rant. "Y'know what? Let's make this interesting."

You don't know what's going through her head, but whatever it is, you don't like it.

"What? Interesting, how?"

"Since you think I'm such a weak old lady, even though I've beaten you many times…"

"We're almost even," you interject, but she's quick to cut you off.

"Shut up! You're not helping your case," she barks, glaring at you.

You shut your mouth and let her finish.

"Anyway, I bet I can beat you in a singles match," she declares, her tone serious.

The proposition sounds appealing to you, but it does feel like you're being manipulated.

"You can't be serious, right?"

"Do I look like I'm not?"

You scan her face carefully. Her expression doesn't waver and looks dead serious. You begin to regret messing with her earlier, and you're unsure what to say next.

"Well?" she asks again, expecting a clear answer.

You can't help but let out a deep sigh.

"Okay… What's on the line, then?"

"The loser has to follow the winner's every command."

You're a little taken aback by the wager, not because it's particularly absurd, but rather that you can't believe how quickly she's able to come up with this kind of proposition.

"That… That's quite a bold bet," you say, feeling a bit intimidated by the conditions.

"Are you backing out already? I thought you're a better player than that."

"No, I'm not! I'm just… Surprised," you stutter, unsure if you're able to take the challenge.

"Don't be such a chicken," she taunts you, a devilish smirk forming on her lips.

The teaser now becomes teased, and her expression is the one that you would never want to see. She's ready to fight you, and not just with her words. You can sense her desire for victory emanating out of her, and that scares the hell out of you.

Suddenly, immense pressure is crushing you down, and you begin to doubt yourself. Taeyeon's always been a formidable player, even with her age and size. If it weren't for her teaching you, you wouldn't have learned all the tricks that you've used to win many matches. You start to regret your decision to play with her, and you have no choice but to swallow the lump in your throat.

"Alright… You've got a deal," you agree, taking the challenge.

She gives a smug grin.

"That's what I wanted to hear," she chuckles. "Well, we've got plenty of time. Shall we have a nice game?"

"I guess so…"

The two of you prepare for the match, putting your rackets and other equipment away. As you're preparing, a thought pops into your mind, and you have a burning question to ask Taeyeon.

"You do realize that a singles match is longer than doubles, right?"

"Well, we can adjust the rules. This isn't an official match, after all."

"Alright. So how do you want to do this? Best out of three sets?"

"Sounds fair enough."

With the agreement, you and Taeyeon prepare to take the court once again. Both of you are determined to win and get the advantage over the other.

You set off the game with your first serve, hitting a fastball to the far corner of the service box. Taeyeon returns with a strong swing, hitting a high-speed shot that you're unable to defend. She takes the first point.

"Shit," you curse under your breath, as the scoreboard shows 15-0.

You try not to lose your focus as you return to the baseline and prepare for the next serve.

You decide to be more careful, not wanting to repeat the same mistake. Your next serve is a lot slower and hits the back of the service box. Taeyeon's return is weaker, allowing you to defend easily. With the advantage, you go on the offense and score a point.

"Yes!" you celebrate, pumping your fist.

"Hey. Not bad," Taeyeon concedes, not wanting to praise you.

"You can't expect me to let you have the advantage all the time," you brag, not letting her dampen your spirit.

"Try me."

Those two words somehow have a strange effect on you, and your confidence quickly wavers.

You try to be a little bit more aggressive on your next serve, and she's forced to make a mistake, throwing the ball off bounds. The score is now tied at 15-30.

The two of you continue your game, fighting tooth and nail to get the advantage. You give your best and so does her. Neither of you are willing to let the other gain any sort of upper hand.

The score eventually reads 40-30, with Taeyeon holding the lead. A single point would end the set and give her a huge advantage.

The volleys between you and Taeyeon are fast and aggressive, but with a strong swing, she manages to catch you off guard, scoring the winning point. She wins the first set.

She cheers at her victory, a wide grin spread across her face.

"Not bad. Didn't think I'd get the first point, huh?"

"Yeah, but the first set doesn't matter," you retort, not wanting to get discouraged.

"Is that so, hotshot? You can try."

You grit your teeth, and you're not sure whether Taeyeon's taunt was meant to annoy you, but her words had its desired effect. You're now ready to prove her wrong and win the second set.

She starts off the second set, preparing for her next serve.

"Let's see if you can return this one," she challenges you with a sly smile on her face.

"Bring it," you reply, your focus unwavering.

Taeyeon lets out a fast serve, aiming for the corner of the service box. Luckily for you, you manage to read her serve and position yourself perfectly to return it with a strong forehand. A few quick exchanges later, you score with a cross-court shot to start the second set with a point in your favor.

It's now your turn to serve. You perform a tricky flat serve, hoping to catch Taeyeon off guard. She anticipates your serve, returning it with a well-placed backhand slice that lands just over the net. In your hesitation to reach the ball, you mistakenly returned it too high and Taeyeon seizes the opportunity, smashing with a powerful overhead shot. The score is now tied at 15-15 in the second set.

You didn't let this setback discourage you. Instead, you double down on your serve, determined to not repeat the same mistake. Taeyeon is also focused and prepared to return your next serve.

With a swift motion, you throw another fast serve, and Taeyeon returns it with a powerful forehand, forcing you to make a mistake. But you managed to return the ball at an awkward angle, giving her a difficult ball to return. You seize the opportunity and score the next point.

The tension between you and Taeyeon is at an all-time high as the second set moves closer to its conclusion. Each point is fought fiercely, and there are a lot of close calls. Neither of you is willing to concede even a single point.

With both of you on the verge of exhaustion, the match is now coming down to the wire.

The score is now 15-40. You need a single point to win the second set.

You have the opportunity to serve. Taeyeon prepares herself, ready to receive your next serve.

"Here goes," you mutter, trying to psych yourself up. With a powerful serve, you launch the ball over the net. You watch anxiously as the ball flies toward the opposite side of the court. She reacts quickly, running towards the ball and returning with a strong forehand. You are forced to return the ball with a lob.

In the air, the ball curves towards the left, landing just outside the lines. You can only hope that Taeyeon isn't able to return it. But with her usual finesse, she returns the ball with a backhand lob, landing just in front of you. It's your turn to seal the deal with a powerful backhand of your own that hits the corner of the court, earning you the final point of the second set.

You try to keep your composure despite the win, but deep down you're ecstatic.

"Nice job," she compliments you.

You only give her a nod in return.

"So, shall we start the last set?"

"Yeah. Let's."

The chill of the midnight air dissipates as the final set begins. With both of you equally fired up and determined to win, you prepare for the final round.

This is it. The last set of the match. There's no time to lose.

You take the serve, performing a tricky jump serve that she struggles to defend. With a powerful swing, you hit a fastball that she's unable to return. You take the first point.

Taeyeon's serving next. With a fast serve, she catches you off guard and you're unable to defend her serve. The score is now 15-15 in the final set.

The pressure is mounting on you as the set progresses. You want to win. You both do. But there's something in her that drains you of your will. You're not sure if she's just playing a good mind game, or if she really has the upper hand.

The turn to serve goes back to you. You're determined not to let Taeyeon get a free pass. With a slow flat serve, you try to catch her off guard. She returns it with a well-timed forehand. You quickly move towards the ball and return it with a sharp topspin that lands just inside the line. She's unable to return the ball and you score a point.

The score is now 30-15 in your favor. The momentum is shifting in your direction. But it feels as though it isn't.

Taeyeon's serving next, and she looks determined to break the momentum. She hits a fast serve, hoping to catch you off guard. You return it with a powerful forehand. But her next shot is even faster, hitting a topspin that forces you to return it with a weak lob.

At that point, she brandishes her trademark move.

She rushes towards the ball, winding up for a smash. You prepare yourself to counter her attack… Only for Taeyeon to swing her racket sideways as it falls down, hitting the ball with a strong topspin. In a rush, you chase after the ball, but it bounces erratically, almost at a 90-degree angle. Before you can do anything, the ball lands outside the line.

“Drive T” is what she calls it. Not only does she swings her arms in a T shape, but the topspin she generates causes the ball to draw a cross, or rather a small letter T, as it bounces uncontrollably on the court. It’s a move that is very hard to predict, both to the players and spectators alike. You’ve seen her used that technique on many occasions, both to intimidate her opponents and to finish the game quickly. It is her dangerous weapon.

And she just used it against you.

Your jaw hangs open in shock. You can't believe she did that.

"Now that's a topspin!" Taeyeon boasts, laughing.

As much as you want to respond to her, you're not sure if you can. As "friendly" as this game is, you can't help but feel a creeping sense of dread at how serious this is turning out.

The score is now tied 30-30. The tension is getting even higher, and your mind is racing. You want to win. You need to win.

You take a deep breath as you prepare for your next serve. As calm as you can be, you send the ball towards her with a powerful serve that sails all the way to the other end of the net. But with her quick reflexes, Taeyeon effortlessly returns the serve with a perfectly executed backhand. You send it back with a swift backhand of your own, making her chase the ball towards the sideline. She manages to get to the ball just in time, and with a flick of her wrist, she sends a sharp topspin towards your corner.

Your heart races as you anticipate the spin and speed of the approaching ball, adjusting your movement to counter her shot with a controlled forehand. However, as you send the ball back, she has positioned herself near the net, swinging it downwards with incredible power and speed. You already put all your strength in returning the previous shot that you have no more time left to react accordingly, making the ball slip past you and land out of your reach.

Taeyeon grunts with satisfaction as her shot gives her a crucial point, bringing the score to 40-30 in her favor.

You curse under your breath, realizing that you may have bit off more than you can chew. But you have no option to back down now. All that's left is to turn the tables and win.

You take another deep breath as you wait for her to make her next move.

Your eyes remain locked on Taeyeon as she prepares to serve, her intense focus indicating that she's not going to make this easy for you. What happens next is like a blur as the ball immediately zooms towards you the moment she tosses it into the air, not even letting it wait for gravity to pull it down. With her on match point, she has all the reasons to end this game as quickly as possible.

You quickly run to intercept the ball, swatting it with a powerful forehand. She stays on her toes, moving swiftly to return your shot with a skillful backhand slice that barely clears the net. The distance is quite the challenge, but it's something you can still manage. You make a sprint towards the net, just in time to hit it back with a drop shot that catches Taeyeon off guard. With her nimble feet, she manages to reach the ball, though she has to dive in for the last few inches just to keep the rally going. And with a desperate lob, she sends the ball soaring high into the air, giving you enough time to deliver a crushing overhead smash that lands just inside the baseline, completely out of Taeyeon's reach.

As the ball connects with the court, a sense of triumph washes over you, pumping your fist in the air. You managed to buy yourself some room to breathe in this fiery match and gain a much-needed point, leveling the score at 40-40. Taeyeon recovers herself from her dive, letting out a sigh as she recovers her breathing. You're exhausted yourself, struggling to catch your breath after the intense rally. But there's no time to rest. You lock eyes with her, both of your eyes burning with determination to win over the other. The next serve could very well be the turning point of the entire match.

Once again, it's your turn to serve. Everything is suddenly hazy as if the world around you blurs into a complete mess of colors. All that's clear in your eyes are the ball in your hands, the lines on the court, and the woman in front of you. It could be the adrenaline. It could be the fear of losing. It could be anything. But none of that matters. Send the ball her way, swing it back if she dares to return it, repeat.

The next few rounds are nothing but intense back-and-forth as you and Taeyeon fight for every point. The ball flies across the court in a flurry of precise shots and strategic placement. You're tired as hell, and maybe, so is she. But neither of you can afford to let up even for a moment, not even an inch, as the score remains neck and neck.

After a few deuces and grueling rallies, the tension on the court reaches its peak. She has managed to bring the score to what could potentially be the final point of the entire match. You're both sweating profusely, your bodies glistening under the harsh stadium lights. The cold air that should be a reprieve feels suffocating against your heated skin. She could be on her last legs, but you're kind of on the same page.

You prepare yourself as Taeyeon prepares her to serve, her eyes locked on yours like a hawk, unwavering and intense. Her serve is swift, darting through the air with deadly accuracy. You react quickly, heading forward to meet the ball with a powerful forehand return. She then easily steps into position, returning the ball with a soft backhand shot. You match her shot with a well-executed slice, aiming to throw her off balance. But she still manages to reach the ball with a quick flick of her wrist, sending it sailing over the net with surprising speed and precision.

As the ball hurtles towards you, you summon every ounce of your pent-up aggression to smack the ball back with an explosive topspin shot, making the ball draw a sharp curve towards the sideline. This is all you have left. You can feel your strength draining as you shout your heart out with that final, desperate shot.

Unfortunately… Your tough opponent, Taeyeon, is right there, ready and waiting.

In a matter of seconds, the distance between her and the ball closes as she lunges forward, her body contorting with the grace and agility of a seasoned athlete. And as she swings her racket in a cross through the air, you know that she isn't just going to return the ball - she's sealing the deal with her Drive T. She hits the ball with such power that it spins wildly as soon as it's airborne. You watch it making its landing not far from you and with your heart pounding, you scramble to retrieve it. But with the ball's unpredictable spin, it bounces away from you instead of it landing in your control.

And as the ball bounces down to a stop, Taeyeon wins the match, winning 2 sets to 1.

"Yay! I won!"

She screams in joy and hops up and down with excitement as if all her exhaustion has instantly evaporated. Meanwhile, you collapse to the ground, completely outplayed and spent. As she celebrates her victory, she notices that you've been anchored to the ground. She makes her way towards you, skipping lightly in joy.

Trying not to feel bitter about your defeat, you raise your hand, giving her a thumbs up and a genuine smile. She responds in kind, before extending her hand to help you up.

"Well, looks like you took the match. That was nice," you say as you sit up, catching your breath as you try to compose yourself after the intense match.

"Thanks. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I just need a moment to recover. My legs feel like they're burning, though."

"Oh. Same here… But I'm good."

"Damn. How do you even do that?"

"I told you many times to work on your legs! I always tell you to do more than just jog," she scolds you as if losing to her wasn't enough.

"Alright, alright," you reply, rolling your eyes. "I'll start next week."

"Well you better be," she chuckles, tapping her racket lightly against your shoulder.

You chuckle amidst the exhaustion, the frustration you felt at losing to Taeyeon fading away.

"So, is that your dare for me?" you ask her.

"Hmmm?"

"You won, right?"

"Oh! Right! The bet!" Taeyeon's eyes then widened in realization.

You shake your head lightly, amused by her sudden forgetfulness.

"And you still deny that you're old—ow!"

She smacks you again with her racket, albeit harder this time.

"What did I just say about calling me old?"

"Okay, okay! Jeez, what a killjoy," you mutter, rubbing your shoulder.

"What was that?" she taunts, preparing to hit you again.

"Nothing! I said nothing," you quickly respond, trying to diffuse the situation.

"Good!" she exclaims, giggling.

"Now, what do you want me to do?" you repeat, trying not to provoke her.

Her attitude changes quickly.

"You're actually gonna go through with it?"

"I mean, you won, so…"

"Are you sure?"

"Come on, just tell me what you want me to do," you urge her.

She pauses for a moment, contemplating the terms of her victory.

"Well, since I beat you pretty badly…"

"That was close," you protest, only to earn a glare from her.

"It wasn't. Now shut up and listen."

You swallow the lump in your throat and nod.

"Y'know what? You look like a tired mess right there. Let's head over to the bench and I'll think of a good prize."

"But my body's still—"

She lets out a loud, exasperated sigh.

"Alright. Get up, you lousy ass," she extends her hand, offering to pull you up.

You take it and let her lead the way to the benches. It's not that far, but the short walk to the benches is enough to make your knees wobble and legs ache. The two of you collapse onto the bench, finally able to relax and rest for a bit.

"Jeez, I didn't think the match was gonna be that hard. You did really well," she says, giving you a soft pat on the shoulder.

"Well… I was against you, after all. Of course, it'll be hard," you respond, your tone slightly annoyed.

"Hey! Don't get me wrong. It's still a nice game."

"I guess. Thanks," you say, shrugging.

A moment of silence ensues, and the two of you sit quietly, basking in the cool air. Despite feeling sore, a little break is all you need to recharge after the intense game. You then look at Taeyeon, and she doesn't seem to show any signs of exhaustion, despite sweating profusely and having her breath ragged after the match.

"Say, how come you don't look as tired as I am?" you ask her, breaking the silence.

"Well, for starters, I've got a lot more years of experience than you," she quips, grinning smugly.

You roll your eyes and sigh, too tired to give a smart retort.

"But seriously, though. You should take better care of your body. You're still young," she says, her tone sounding more like a concerned mother than a friend.

"You've been saying that for a while now," you grumble.

"Well, that's because I was your teacher! Jeez! Don't be so stubborn," she protests, giving your shoulder a light shove.

"I'm not being stubborn. I'm just tired," you then let out another deep breath. "You took all the air out of me"

"Exactly. And that's why I'm telling you to take care of your body better," she says, her tone firm.

"Okay, fine," you concede.

"Now, shall we move on?"

"Sure. Let's talk about my dare," you say, eager to finally know what she wants.

"Right. Are you sure you're in on this?"

"I'm sure. Yeah," you assure her.

"100%? No take-backs, okay?"

"If it's not anything too extreme."

"Don't worry. It's nothing like that."

You look at her, and she smirks at you. Something tells you that you'll regret this, but curiosity gets the better of you.

"Fine. Shoot it."

"Pull down your shorts."

Your jaw hangs open. You expected her to ask for a silly dare, like a funny photo or something along those lines. But this? You didn't expect this at all.

"H-huh? W-what did you just say?" you stammer, your cheeks burning red.

"Come on. It's not gonna kill you."

"But… That's—"

"Just a little fun, really."

You're speechless, your eyes wide as you process the words.

"I… I don't think I can do that."

"Hey. The deal was the loser has to do everything the winner asks, right? You lost. So, do it."

You swallow the lump in your throat and sigh. There's no getting around this.

"Okay… Fine," you reluctantly agree, slowly sliding down your shorts.

The fabric brushes against your skin, sending shivers up your spine. Your heart beats fast, your palms sweating profusely as you slowly reveal more and more of your bare thighs. Your boxers are the only thing separating your modesty from the woman sitting beside you, and you can't deny her the sight of your growing erection.

Taeyeon's lips curl into a satisfied grin, and she bites her lower lip as she sees the tent forming between your legs.

"You're really turned on by this, huh?" she says, teasing you.

"It… It's not like that, I swear."

"Sure, whatever you say," she giggles.

"So… Is this it? Did I pass the dare?" you ask, trying to change the subject.

"Well, technically… But now I'm interested in something else," she replies, her voice dropping an octave.

"And? What would that be?"

"Let's just say I want to see what's underneath those boxers."

Your heart sinks to the pit of your stomach, and you instinctively cross your legs.

"Noona… There could be people watching us," you tell her, scanning the entire area.

"It's 3 AM. Do you think those guards will even bother walking around at this hour? No one's gonna see," she reasons.

"But…"

"The deal?"

"Okay, fine. I'll do it."

Slowly, you take a deep breath and reach down for your boxers.

"Ugh… What am I doing?" you mumble, cursing at yourself.

You grab the hem and pull down the fabric grazing against your shaft. Your erection springs up, freed from the confines of your underwear.

"Wow. Now that's quite a view," Taeyeon chuckles, ogling your exposed member.

You turn away, too embarrassed to look her in the eye.

"I'm sorry. This is so embarrassing," you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Hey. Don't be. Especially when you have this…" she bites her lip, her eyes fixated on your dick. "Big thing right there."

Your cheeks burn a bright red, and you feel like you could explode.

"You're kidding me, right?"

"Of course not! Come on, you can't tell me it's not hot."

You stay silent, unable to answer.

"Alright. Lemme suck that," she says, leaning in closer to you.

"W-what? Y-you can't be serious!"

"Hey. No take-backs."

"But this is—"

"Listen. You clearly look like you're not in on this."

"I… I didn't say that…"

"So? What's with the hesitation?"

"I-it's just that… This is kind of sudden," you reply, unable to think straight.

"Then let me ease you into it," she says, grabbing your dick with her hand.

Your breath hitches, the sudden contact of her soft hand against your sensitive shaft taking you by surprise. She slowly moves her hand up and down, gently massaging your dick. You can't help but let out a low moan as her fingers run across the tip, sending shivers down your spine.

"How does that feel?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I-I don't know…" you manage to say, your mind in a daze.

She smirks at your reaction, totally getting turned on by your response.

"You did your best so… I'll give you a consolation prize."

"H-huh? What do you mean?"

Before you can say anything, she leans in, her face just inches away from your cock.

"Wait… You can't be serious. You're going to—"

"Let me give you a little treat. You can tell me to stop after, but I hope you won't,” she says, her warm breath brushing against your shaft. “It'll be a shame, really,"

You're speechless, your mouth hanging open as you stare at her in disbelief.

"Well, here I go," she announces, leaning forward and enveloping your cock with her lips.

The sudden warmth sends a shock through your body, and you let out a moan, throwing your head back in pleasure. She starts sucking on the tip, and her tongue swirls around the head, lapping up the beads of precum. You can't believe it, but it feels so good. Your breathing quickens as she continues to suck, taking your dick deeper into her mouth. She moans against your cock, and you can feel her voice vibrating through your shaft.

"Oh, fuck…" you curse, the pleasure driving you insane.

She then grabs the base of your shaft with her hand and starts stroking you in sync with her mouth. The sensation is overwhelming, and you can't help but grab a fistful of her hair, gripping it tightly. She picks up the pace, her hand moving faster as her head bobs up and down. Her eyes lock with yours, and she's clearly enjoying this. You can see the lust in her eyes, and it's all too much for you.

The pressure builds up, your mind goes blank, and all you can think about is the intense pleasure coursing through your body. Your muscles tense up, and before you know it, your body starts shaking uncontrollably. You can feel your balls tightening, and the urge to cum is overwhelming.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum!"

With one final thrust, you unload your seed into her mouth. Taeyeon suddenly looks surprised as you unleash a torrent of cum, filling her mouth. She then pulls out, coughing, the excess dripping down her chin.

"Sorry! I didn't know if you were ready," you apologize, worried that you might have forced her.

She continues to cough, and she wipes the excess cum off her face, taking a moment to catch her breath.

"It's okay. I was kinda taken by surprise, but it's fine," she manages to say, giving you a reassuring smile.

"I'm so sorry. I just couldn't hold it any longer," you apologize again, embarrassed by what happened.

"I told you it's okay," she tells you.

"Well… If you say so."

"And besides… It's not every day that I get to do it with a virgin," she winks as she lets out a soft laugh.

"Hey! I'm no virgin!" you protest, trying to defend your ego.

"Is that so?" she teases, raising an eyebrow playfully.

"I… I've experienced this before," you mutter.

"Sure, and that's why I got a mouthful," she chuckles, licking her lips.

"I was… I was holding out!" you retort.

"But of course," she laughs. "Just admit that you're a total virgin."

You're left speechless, unable to defend yourself. She just grins at you, clearly amused by your reaction. You want to say something, but she has you beat.

"Alright… Off to the next one!" she then exclaims, looking rather excited.

"Next one?"

"You didn't think I was just gonna leave you like this, did you? We're just getting started," she winks, giving your dick a squeeze.

"Wait, what?"

"That was just the warm-up. I have a lot of other things planned for us."

"Like what?"

"Let's just say this is gonna be the night of your life. And by the time the sun rises, you'll be thanking me,"

"I'm not so sure about this…"

"Trust me. I know what I'm doing," she reassures you, flashing you a devious smile.

She lets go of your dick. You feel relieved that her tight grip is no longer on your throbbing cock, but also a bit disappointed at the loss of her warm touch. She then takes off her clothes, exposing her voluptuous body. Her breasts are barely covered by an orange lace bra, and her hips are accentuated by a matching thong. You gulp as you take in the sight, and you can feel your dick getting even harder.

"What's wrong? Getting nervous?" she asks, giggling.

"Uh, yeah. This is really sudden. I'm not sure what's going on," you admit, unable to look away from her gorgeous body.

"Come on, it's nothing you can't handle. Just enjoy it," she says, grabbing your hand and placing it on her waist.

You can't deny the electricity that runs through your body the moment her skin makes contact with yours. Her body is so soft and warm, and it feels so good to touch her. It's intoxicating at the least, and you can't help but be swept up by the moment.

"Now, I'll let you have a taste of my body. You better make the most of it," she whispers, her lips brushing against your ear.

You let out a soft moan, the sensation driving you wild.

"So? What are you waiting for?"

"I…"

"It's okay. You can touch me," she assures you, guiding your hands towards her breasts.

"But, Noona…"

"Touch me more."

You hesitate for a moment, but she urges you on, and you give in.

Your fingers trace the outline of her bra, feeling her erect nipples through the fabric. As if by instinct, you gently squeeze her breasts, eliciting a moan from her.

"Mmmh… That's it. More," she purrs, arching her back.

Your heart races as her breasts push against your palms, her nipples rubbing against the thin material of her bra. The friction feels incredible, and the pleasure drives you crazy. You're not sure how much longer you can hold out, but you don't want it to end.

"You're so cute. You look like you're enjoying this," she teases, smiling.

Guilty as charged.

"Just relax. I'll take care of everything."

She then presses her lips against yours, her tongue pushing past your lips. Your tongues dance, and you savor her sweet taste. She then nibbles on your lower lip, and you can't help but moan.

"Nggh! Noona, wait," you breathe out, pulling away from her.

"Hmm? What's wrong?"

"I… I think this is too fast."

She giggles. "Awh. Poor thing."

She then cups your face with her hand and kisses you again, a much slower, passionate kiss this time. You feel her smile against your lips, and it sends a shiver down your spine. It feels so good, so addicting. Yet you don't want to admit it.

"Taeyeon-noona, I…"

"Do you want to take it slow?"

You only gave her a nod.

"There. Just tell me what you want."

She then reaches back and unhooks her bra, tossing it to the side. Her bare breasts glisten under the dim lighting, and you can't help but stare in awe.

"There. I hope this evens us out," she smirks. You can see her cheeks blushing as she puts her magnificent assets on full display.

"Y-you don't have to, y'know? I'm fine with—"

Before you can utter another word, she pulls you towards her, pressing your face against her plump, supple breasts. Muffled, you try to push back, but she holds you firmly against her, not letting go. The warmth of her skin and the softness of her breasts overwhelm your senses, slowly melting your hesitations away.

Before you know it, you feel your hands explore the rest of her exposed body, gliding across everything you can reach.

She can't help but laugh and moan simultaneously as you explore her body.

"Getting braver, aren’t we?"

You choose not to answer and instead let your actions speak for you.

Taeyeon's skin feels so soft and smooth, and it's a wonder to touch. You can't help but want to touch her even more, to explore every inch of her. You suck on her erect nipples, and her breath hitches, letting out a soft moan.

"That's it. Take it all in," she whispers, running her fingers through your hair.

Your heart races as her scent fills your nose, and it's driving you crazy. You can't help but want more, and you feel yourself getting lost in the moment.

"Taeyeon-noona…"

"Shhhh… Don't say a word. Just enjoy it," she replies, her voice low and seductive.

Obliging, you continue to taste her, relishing in the sweet, salty taste of her skin. Your hands travel across her body, touching every inch of her. She bites her lip and arches her back as you trace the curve of her spine, and her breathing quickens as you explore her thighs.

"Oh, fuck…" she breathes out, her voice barely above a whisper.

Your hands then find their way to her butt, and you squeeze her cheeks, feeling the soft, firm flesh in your hands. She looks at you with lustful eyes, and you can see the desire written all over her face.

"Oh, my… You're getting good at this," she purrs, smiling seductively.

You blush slightly, her compliment clearly lifting your confidence. You shoot a smile back at her, fueled with confidence and hunger for more. She smirks at your newfound boldness, welcoming your hunger with equal enthusiasm.

Your lips lock with hers for another round of torrid passion, the heat between your bodies intensifying with each passing second. Your tongues dance in a fiery tango, exploring every crevice and making each other elicit a fervent moan. Neither of you is backing down, eager to win over the other as if your earlier spar wasn't enough.

"Noona, you're… Amazing," you manage to gasp between heated kisses, unable to contain the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your body.

She smirks. "You're no slouch either."

"But, you… I…"

"Mhhh… Don't stop now," Taeyeon whispers, her voice dripping with need.

"But let me just…" you struggle to remove your shirt despite the urgency of the moment.

With her expert guidance, you quickly shed your shirt and throw it aside, giving your partner an unobstructed view of your bare chest.

"There we go. Better?"

"Yeah. You were on top of me so I had trouble taking it off." you jest, a playful smirk spreading across your face.

She then chuckles, hitting you playfully on the shoulder.

"And you blame me for that?"

"Why not? You keep on pushing me down."

"Jeez… I'm not that heavy, you know?"

"I know, I know. You're just so aggressive," you tease, running your fingers through her skin.

Taeyeon coos at your touch, her body pulsating with desire.

"Hmmm? Is that your way of flirting with me?"

You shrug. "Well… It's worth a shot."

She replies with a soft chuckle.

"Consider it a successful shot," she breathes, her voice laced with lust.

You blush, feeling a surge of pride at having successfully aroused Taeyeon.

"Well… Thank you."

"Then let's get back to it, shall we?" She purrs, her hands eagerly tracing the contours of your chest all the way to your abdomen. You shiver at her touch, goosebumps appearing on your skin.

She then looks at you with an inviting gaze, and her lips curl into a sly grin. You can't help but stare in awe, mesmerized by her beauty.

"W-what? Do I have something on my face?"

"No, silly," she giggles. "I want you to touch me, too."

"Oh. Right."

"I can't be the only one enjoying this, y'know?"

"My bad, noona."

You resume your passionate makeout session. The two of you moan against each other's lips, exploring each other's bodies. The two of you are so lost in the moment that the world around you begins to fade, and all that matters is the heat, the electricity, the passion.

"Fuck. You taste so good," Taeyeon moans, her voice dripping with lust.

"Mmmh… You do too. Fuck," you reply, the heat and desire growing within you.

"But seriously…"

"Hmmm?"

"Learn to get a hint," she giggles.

"Heh. Sorry," you mumble, trying to regain control. "I was kinda lost."

"Understandable," she snickers. "It's your first time, after all."

"H-hey. You're making me sound like a virgin."

"Well… You kinda are."

"Come on now…"

Taeyeon can't help but chuckle at your response, amused by your reaction.

"Fine. Let's not talk about that."

"I'm not that innocent, you know," you retort, pouting.

"Really, now?"

"Y-yeah. Really."

"So you wouldn't mind if we take things further… Right?"

You gulp, suddenly aware of what she means.

"Well… I guess?"

"Good."

She then reaches down and slowly pulls down her panties. You just realize how wet she is as you stare in awe. She then grabs your hand and leads it to her core. You hesitate for a moment, but she guides you, urging you to take things further.

"It's okay. You can touch me."

You gently cup her mound, feeling the slickness of her wet folds. Her pussy is hot, and her juices flow freely. She shudders as your fingers brush against her sensitive bud, and her body tenses up.

"Yes… That's it!" she moans, biting her lip.

"Is this it? Are you sure?"

"Mhmm… Just go ahead."

Your fingers explore her core, and you find her swollen clit. You rub her bundle of nerves in a circular motion, eliciting a sharp gasp from her.

"Oh, fuck! That feels so good."

"Are you sure? Am I doing it right?"

"Yes! Just keep going," she moans, her voice barely above a whisper.

You increase the pace, applying a bit more pressure. She writhes under your touch, her body trembling with pleasure.

"F-fuck… Y-yes!" she moans, her voice shaking.

The heat is building within you, and you can't hold back any longer. You decide to switch positions, with Taeyeon now resting her body on the bench. At this view, she looks so small, so inviting. You proceed to kiss her thighs as your hand continues its assault.

"Mmmh! Oh shit! Yes! Keep going!"

You then kiss her core, licking her wet folds. She shrieks, her voice ringing in your ears. She grabs a fistful of your hair, holding on for dear life. You then lick her clit, eliciting a loud moan from her. She can't hold on much longer, her body writhing in ecstasy.

"Fuck! You're so good! I'm… I'm close!"

You can't help but be proud, and you redouble your efforts, sucking on her clit. She arches her back, and she screams, her orgasm tearing through her body.

"I'm gonna cum! Shit! I'm gonna fucking—aghh!"

You watch as her body spasms, and her legs quiver. She rides out her orgasm, her body trembling with each wave of pleasure. She finally collapses, panting, her body slick with sweat.

"Holy shit. That was… Amazing," she breathes, her voice shaky.

"Did… Did I do good?"

"Of course, you did. Not bad for a first-timer."

"Well… Thanks."

"Now, let me return the favor," she says, a smirk spreading across her face.

"What do you mean?"

"It's your turn now," she says, licking her lips.

"B-but I already—"

She interrupts, putting a finger against your lips.

"I know you have some left in you" Her hands move down towards your privates, massaging every bit of it. "And besides…"

She then leans over and whispers to your ear, her voice seductive.

"I'm still not satisfied."

As if on cue, you can feel your member throbbing in response, as if beckoning her to touch you even more.

"Looks like someone's ready for more," she giggles.

"Hey… I'm just sensitive," you protest, looking at her with your best puppy-dog eyes.

Taeyeon lets out a laugh, seemingly caught off-guard by your adorable attempt at innocence.

"Oh, cut that out. That doesn't suit you in the slightest," she playfully retorts.

"I just thought I'd give it a try," you reply, looking disappointed.

"Don't you ever do that again, alright?"

"Why not?"

She then pulls you closer. You can see the sheer desire in her eyes burning through her gaze. She seems to want more from you than just a casual encounter.

"I don't want cute and innocent from you."

"Then what do you want?"

"I want you to be as fierce as you were earlier," she whispers, her tone low and seductive.

"As you wish, Miss Winner," you say, a cheeky grin spreading across your face.

"Show me what you got," she says, her tone challenging.

Without a moment's hesitation, you crash your lips against hers for yet another round, kissing her passionately. She reciprocates, and her hands grip your body, her nails digging into your skin. It hurts, but the pain is drowned out by the intense pleasure.

You break the kiss and attack her neck, nibbling on her soft flesh. She moans, and her hands wrap around your back, pulling you closer. You continue your assault, and she writhes underneath you, her breathing ragged.

"Ooh, shit! Yes! That's it!" she gasps, her voice cracking.

You continue your trail down her body, planting soft kisses along her collarbone. She whimpers, and her hands run through your hair, encouraging you to keep going. You then move further south, planting a soft kiss on her chest, right between her breasts.

"Yes… Yes! Please, keep going," she whispers, her voice breathy and needy.

You then plant another kiss on her left breast, followed by a soft bite on her nipple, making her whimper.

"Ahh shit!" she groans, her body shaking with pleasure.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No… Please don't," she pleads, her voice dripping with need.

"Well then," you say, kissing her other breast, biting her nipple.

"Oh, fuck!"

"Like that?"

"Yes! I like that!"

"What about this?"

You move further south, trailing kisses down her belly. She moans as your lips caress her skin, her body writhing with pleasure. You then reach her thighs, and you give them a soft kiss.

"Yes! Oh, god!" she moans, her body trembling.

You then spread her legs apart, exposing her pink pussy, glistening with her juices.

"Oh, fuck. Look at you," you marvel, staring at her womanhood.

"I know. It's fucking amazing," she says, a satisfied smile on her face.

You then move closer, and your tongue finds her slit. You slowly drag your tongue along her wet folds, eliciting a moan from her. She throws her head back, her eyes closed, as she relishes in the sensation.

"Shit! There it goes again! That fucking tongue!"

"Do you want me to stop?"

She opens her eyes, staring right at you.

"No! Don't you fucking dare!"

"Alright," you chuckle, continuing your assault.

You lap at her wet folds, lapping up her juices. You savor her sweet, musky taste, and it makes you feel drunk.

"Ooh, shit! That's the spot," she gasps, her hands gripping the back of your head.

You continue your assault, licking her clit and teasing her wet entrance. Her body trembles and her moans get louder.

"Ooh, fuck! I'm getting close," she pants, her voice shaky.

You intensify your assault, sucking on her clit while inserting two fingers inside her.

"Are you gonna cum?" you ask, staring right into her eyes.

"I'm… I'm close," she whimpers, her voice barely audible.

"Do you want to?"

"Yes… Yes! I want to cum!" she gasps, her hips bucking.

As her screams go a few pitches higher, you let go of her. Taeyeon is left hanging, her body shaking with frustration.

"Huh? W-what the fuck?"

"I don't want you to cum yet," you explain.

"But I was so close, you fuck! You could've—"

You withdraw fully from assaulting her core, only to show her your own erection standing at full attention.

"I could've just let you cum…"

You position your shaft against her pussy, brushing her entrance.

"But I want to do it…"

You rub your shaft against her wet slit, making her groan.

"When I'm inside you."

"Oh f-fuck," she bites her lip, anticipating your next move.

"This is what you wanted all along, right?"

You press your tip against her entrance, and her eyes widen.

"Yes. You finally get—ooh!"

You continue to tease her, rubbing your cock against her entrance.

"Then, shall I?"

"Yes. I want you to—agh fuck!"

"Tell me how much you want it."

"I… I want it! I want you to fuck me!"

You continue to tease her, pushing the tip of your cock into her, making her moan.

"I don't think you're sincere, noona," you tease, pushing your cock further into her.

"Fuck you! Stop teasing me and start fucking me, you asshole!" she cries out in desperation.

"Then tell it to me like you mean it," you tell her, tapping her entrance with your length.

Her hips then shake as if begging for something. Her breathing is heavy, and her eyes are filled with lust and need.

"Please… I need it," she whimpers, her voice shaking and full of need.

"Then say it, Taeyeon."

She grits her teeth, and her eyes glaring at you, filled with both anger and frustration.

"Fuck me, alright? Fuck me like you mean it! I want you to fill me up and make me cum! Make me scream! Make me fucking lose my mind! I need it! I need your fucking dick inside me! Right. Fucking. Now!"

Without warning, you push your cock into her, eliciting a cry of both pain and pleasure from her.

"You mean like this?"

"Ah! Ahh fuck!"

You slam your cock into her, and she moans, her body shuddering.

"Enjoying this, aren't you, noona?"

"Fuck… I'm really gonna cum!"

Her back arches and her hands grip the bench. You continue to fuck her, and her moans get louder. You can feel her pussy tightening around your cock, and her body trembles.

"Shit! Shit! I'm cumming—ahh!"

Taeyeon screams, her body quaking in pleasure as her orgasm rocks through her body. Excess fluids gush from her core, coating your shaft and dribbling onto the bench, until it creates a small puddle underneath. You can't help but smile as you watch her, her expression filled with pure ecstasy.

She then falls limp, her body relaxing as her orgasm subsides. She looks at you, a satisfied smile on her face.

"How was it, noona? Was it good?"

"That was… Incredible," she manages to say, her voice still shaky.

"I'm glad I was able to satisfy you," you chuckle, pulling her into an embrace.

"Yeah… You did good for a newbie," she smirks, chuckling.

"Is that so?"

"Yeah. But you still have a lot to—ooh!"

You slam your cock into her, catching her by surprise.

"You say that but…"

You thrust in and out, and her eyes widen.

"Looks like you're losing your mind…"

"Oh fuck."

"To a virgin," you slam your cock deep inside her, her body shaking.

"Ahh! This fucking cock! Ahh!"

"So, tell me… What was that you said again?"

You pound her relentlessly, and her moans get louder. Her body shakes, and her breathing is ragged. For a stick-up mentor and tennis partner, she sure is enjoying her role reversal.

"I… I can't… Fuck! Oh, shit!"

"Pretty please?" you ask, slowing down the pace of your thrusts.

"N-no! No! Please don't slow down!" she pleads, her voice trembling.

"Then say it."

"Oh fuck you—ahh! I can't take it anymore!"

"I can do this all day."

"Agh! You asshole!"

You slam into her, and she screams, her body convulsing.

"Fuck! Not that spot!"

"Say it, Taeyeon. Say it."

With her face painted red in anger and embarrassment, she gives in.

"F-fine. Fine! You… I love your fucking cock! Your fucking virgin cock!" she screams at the top of her lungs, her voice echoing through the court.

"That's it. Let everyone hear you."

"Oh, fuck. I fucking love you," she moans, her voice dripping with need.

Her last few words catch you off-guard, but the sight of her drunk-hazed face and her pleasured moans make you forget it almost immediately.

"Then I'm yours."

You slam into her once more, and her eyes roll to the back of her head. With arms around your back, she pulls you in as she incoherently screams into your ear. Taeyeon has finally lost her mind, and you love to see it.

"Oh fuhg… It'sh sho gud!"

"What is good, huh? Tell me."

"Y-your cock… Your cock ish sho gud," she whimpers, her body spasming.

"And how does my cock feel inside you?"

"Sho big… It'sh filling my pusshy sho mush!"

"And whose is it?"

"Yoursh! All yours! My pusshy ish yoursh!"

"I can't quite hear you, noona."

"Your pusshy! It'sh all yoursh!"

"Good. Keep telling me. I love to hear it."

"Aahhh… Y-your cock… Fuck me more!"

You fuck her senseless, and her body writhes in pleasure. She continues to babble nonsense, her mind gone blank from the pleasure. You continue to slam into her, her tight cunt sucking in your shaft. You can feel her walls clenching, her pussy desperate to milk your cock.

"Taeyeon-noona, fuck… You feel so good."

"Aah! More! Give me more!"

"You want more? How about this?"

You then pick her up and fuck her as she's suspended in the air. Her eyes widen, and her mouth is agape.

"Oh fuhk… No. No!

She screams, and her legs wrap around your waist. You hold onto her tight, and your pace quickens.

"Oh, shit! You're sho deep!"

"You like that, huh?"

"Ahh… Y-yesh… More… Harder!"

"As you wish, noona."

You increase your pace, slamming into her faster and harder. With her light, small frame, you can go deeper than before, as if it's nothing. Or maybe all that rigorous training is finally paying off.

"Oh fuck! Fuck!"

"You like that, huh?"

"Y-yesh… I like it…"

"Good. Now, let me give you a reward."

You thrust faster and deeper, and her moans get louder. And as you do, you can feel your balls churn, the pressure building within them.

"Oh, fuck. Taeyeon-noona, I'm going to cum soon," you warn her, feeling the sensation rising.

"Yesh… Ghiv me your cum!"

"Are you sure? Are you sure you can handle it?"

"Yesh! Let me have it!"

"Alright then."

You amp up the pace as you reach your climax, and your thrusts get harder and faster. Her body is shaking, and her voice cracks as she moans uncontrollably.

"Oh fuhk! Here it cumsh!"

You slam into her one last time, burying your cock deep inside her. With a loud moan, you erupt, unloading a torrent of hot, thick cum. She screams, her voice ringing through the court, as your load fills her up, flooding her womb with seed. She clenches her eyes shut, and her hands grip your shoulders, holding on for dear life.

"Shit, noona… I can't stop!"

"Jush giv it all to me!"

You keep pouring into her, not stopping for a moment. Her body shakes, and her pussy tightens, squeezing out every last drop. You feel like you're being squeezed dry. Painful, yes, but you can't help but moan at the overwhelming pleasure.

"Oh fuck… I think I'm done…" you finally gasp, your thrusts slowing down.

"Ahh… So mush cum…" she sighs, her voice breathy and sultry.

You pull out of her, and her eyes are unfocused. A deluge of white ooze seeps out of her pink hole, a mixture of your fluids and hers. You can't believe the amount you have ejected, and neither can Taeyeon, as it creates a larger puddle on the ground.

"Holy shit," she gasps, her glazed eyes widening with disbelief.

"Fuck… I think I went overboard," you tell her, watching your semen flow out of her.

"You let out… So much…" she breathes, her weak body barely holding her upright.

"Well, I couldn't control myself. Not with you."

"Hahh… Thanks," she smiles, a hint of pride in her tone.

You both catch your breaths, the smell of sex hanging heavily in the air. Your body tells you that you've exhausted your reserves, and maybe so did Taeyeon's. But the sight and sound of your previous actions still linger in your head and your desire for more remains.

"Say… Noona…"

"Yeah."

Your shaft slowly stands back up, throbbing at her entrance and eager to continue. She lets out a soft gasp as she notices your eagerness. You can see the hesitation in her eyes, fueling your hunger even more.

"Can we?"

"You're restless today, aren't you?" she giggles.

"Can't help it," you grin, rubbing your length against her slit.

"Fuck… That feels so good," she moans, closing her eyes.

"So? Can we?"

"Hmmm… Alright. I guess one more time wouldn't hurt."

"Thank you," you tell her, a big grin forming on your face.

"So, what do you want to—whoa!"

Before she could finish, you swiftly lowered her to the ground and spread her legs apart. You position yourself in front of her, your shaft poised and ready. She looks at your erection, her face flushing a shade of red.

"Fuck… Here we go again," she sighs, anticipation in her eyes.

You then guide your shaft into her, and she whimpers, her pussy swallowing you whole.

"Urgh! You're so fucking tight, noona!"

"More like you're too fucking big," she grunts, her walls straining to accommodate your girth.

"And you're loving it," you reply, smiling sheepishly.

"Mhmm…" she nods, biting her lip.

"That's what I like to hear," you smirk, and without warning, start thrusting.

"Ahh! Oh shit! Fuck me harder!"

You comply, slamming your cock into her at a rapid pace. Her voice echoes through the court, a melody that fills you with immense satisfaction. The sound of her skin slapping against yours only adds to the pleasure, and you find yourself thrusting even harder.

"Fuck… Yes… Harder! Fucking pound my pussy!"

You slam into her faster, harder, and deeper. Her body writhes with pleasure, her hips bucking and her legs quivering. She can't help but wrap her arms around you, her hands digging into your skin. Her legs also have you locked in, the intensity of her hold surprising.

"Shit, Taeyeon-noona… You're so good," you groan, relishing the tightness of her pussy.

"Yes! Fuck! Right there! Keep fucking me like that!" she cries, her voice cracking.

"Here? Like this?"

You hit a spot inside her, and her body jolts.

"Aghh! Yes! There! Right fucking there!"

"You like that?"

"Yes! Fuck! I fucking love it!"

You continue to slam into her, wild like a beast in heat, hitting the same spot over and over again. She can't stop screaming, her voice cracking and her body shuddering with pleasure. and her pussy clenches around you, tightening even more. You can't help but let out a groan, the sensation driving you mad. You feel her orgasm coming, and you're not far behind.

"Shit… Noona, I'm gonna cum again!"

"Me too… Me too!"

"Hrgh! Here it goes! Take it all!"

"Yes! Cum with me! Cum inside me! Fill me up with your fucking cum!"

You feel the pressure rising, and you can't hold it any longer. You ram your cock deep into her, and with one last thrust, you let out a primal roar, releasing a torrent of hot cum into her. She screams, her voice ringing through the court as your thick load fills her up once again.

She cums right after, her pussy convulsing around your cock, unleashing a flood of her own juices. As if a dam had been burst, her fluids flowed freely, gushing out of her pussy and coating your cock. It's as if you're drowning, the intensity is overwhelming.

"Oh fukh! There'sh sho mush!"

"Taeyeon… You're so… Tight!" you gasp, your cock trapped by her pussy.

Not that you can, nor that you could. Your hips continue to buck, the pleasure almost unbearable. It's as if her cunt is trying to squeeze every last drop out of you, and it's succeeding. You keep pouring into her, filling her womb up to the brim.

"Ahh! It'sh not shtopping! Your cum ish sho mush!"

As your thrusts come to a halt, you slam your cock one last time, burying yourself deep inside her. Excess fluid squirts out of her, adding to the already impressive puddle underneath you. You can feel her pussy milking your shaft, squeezing out the last drop of cum.

After what seems like an eternity, your orgasm subsides, and you slowly pull out of her, your cock still oozing with cum. She sighs, and a copious amount of white liquid drips from her entrance. A mixture of both your cum and hers. After your earlier outburst, you can't believe how much you manage to let out, and neither could she.

"Fughk… Sho mush…" she pants, her eyes glassy.

"Noona… That was intense," you tell her, trying to catch your breath.

"Fuhk. Yes… I feel sho dihzzy."

You can't help but chuckle at her expression, her face flushed with exhaustion.

"Hey. Are you okay?"

"Yeah… I guesh," she mumbles, a sleepy smile spreading across her face.

You then carry her as you sit on the bench, her exhausted body resting against yours. With her remaining strength, she slowly wraps her arms around your back, pulling herself closer. You reciprocate, enveloping her in a tight embrace.

"Ow, ow!"

"What? What's wrong?"

"You're hugging me too hard!"

"Oh. Sorry. I went overboard, noona."

"Heh. Don't be," she laughs, nuzzling against you.

The two of you spend some time recovering from your intense session, the cool breeze a nice reprieve from the sweltering. She then looks up at you, her eyes full of desire.

"What? Do you want more?" you ask.

"No, I'm tired… Just hold me, okay?"

"If you say so," you chuckle, giving her a soft peck on the forehead.

She giggles, snuggling against you.

"We were kinda loud, weren't we?"

"Maybe."

"Do you think someone saw us?"

"I hope not," you chuckle, rubbing her shoulders.

"I do!"

From somewhere on the bleachers, a man's voice suddenly blurts out, emerges, the sound of his shoes echoing through the court. Your heart sinks as the two of you search for the source, finding a man sitting on the bleachers.

"Oh shit. There was someone," you gasp, your face flushing with embarrassment.

"Sorry for not telling you two," the stranger, wearing what might me a janitor's uniform, apologizes, looking rather bashful.

"How long were you there?" Taeyeon asks, yelling, her voice tinged with embarrassment.

"I heard screaming and moaning, so I went to check it out. And there I saw the two of you going at it."

"And you didn't stop us?" she retorts.

"Why would I? You lovebirds seem to be enjoying it," the stranger says, his tone nonchalant.

You and Taeyeon then exchanged glances, your faces blushing red.

"And besides…"

The two of you look back at the stranger.

"Security here doesn't give a shit during these hours."

"Really? Do they not monitor the cameras?"

"They do."

You both shudder at his response.

"But they'd rather get some shut-eye than deal with any after-hours shenanigans," he answers, chuckling at his own statement.

"So… Do they not care about what happens here?"

"Are you crazy? We've seen enough of that stuff already! It's common during these hours."

The stranger's words echoed in your ears, leaving you both stunned and relieved by the realization that your bold escapade wasn't as discreet as you

"Heh. I guess I did pick the right time---ow!"

Taeyeon suddenly hits you in between your playful comment with a playful yet embarrassed smirk on her face.

"You sonovabitch! You let people watch us? In public, of all places? I hate you!"

"Hey! Hey! It was your idea to have some fun in public," you protest, rubbing your arm where she hit you.

"But you made the reservation! You sneaky fuck… You probably knew about this!"

She continues to scold you, her words laced with a mixture of embarrassment and amusement. For such a soft punch, they sure are quite painful.

"No, I swear! I didn't know anyone would be here!"

"I swear, the next time you have your way with me, I will…"

"Hey. Don't blame me! You pulled me in on this!"

"Why you…"

"Before you lovers continue to be all playful and whatnot…" the janitor interrupts, "You might want to pack things up."

"Huh?" the two of you ask in unison.

He then points towards the sky as the dawning sun begins to peek over the horizon. You quickly check the time on your phone and realize that the time you reserved for your outdoor rendezvous is nearly up. With your exhausted bodies and flushed faces, you hurriedly gather your belongings, discarded clothes and all, trying your best to fix yourselves as fast and as composed as possible.

"What about the mess?" Taeyeon suddenly blurts out, her cheeks still flushed from the recent activities.

"What mess?" you ask, your focus shifting between the looming sunrise and Taeyeon's concerned expression.

"This mess!" She gestures towards the puddles of sweat and other bodily fluids that soak the bench and the concrete ground beneath it.

You exchange a panicked glance, realizing the evidence of your passionate encounter is scattered for all to see.

"What are we gonna do with this?" she exclaims, worry evident in her voice.

"Fuck… Uhh, shit! Gimme a sec…"

You quickly think of ways to resolve the situation.

"Hey! Don't worry about that," the janitor calls out, waving his hand dismissively.

"What? You're gonna clean all this?" you ask, a mix of relief and surprise in your voice.

"Uhh… Yeah! That's my job," he chuckles.

"Well… Thank you, sir!" you yell, waving your hand at him.

"Oh, thank you! Thank you so much!" Taeyeon cries out, her voice ringing with relief. She then pulls your arm, nudging you to leave the scene with her. "We have to go!"

You and Taeyeon then rush towards the exit, your hearts pounding with a mix of exhilaration and nervousness. From what was initially a harmless tennis practice session, things took an unexpectedly erotic turn, allowing you and your partner to unleash all your pent-up desires in a frisky and uninhibited display of passion. Fucking on a public tennis court was definitely not part of the plan, but it was an experience neither of you would soon forget.

"Ugh… Walking without underwear is the worst," you groan as you and Taeyeon hurriedly walk outside of the building, your exhausted dick swaying freely beneath your shorts.

"You think? I haven't even put anything underneath in a hurry!" she replies, frustration lacing her voice. Her breasts bounce under her clothes with each hurried step. "Hngh… I can feel some of your cum dripping down my thighs."

"It does?" you ask, shocked and curious, leaning in to inspect her arousing situation. "Lemme see…"

She then prepares to swing her arm to hit you. Her face furious yet blushing.

"Don't you even dare!"

"Alright, alright. My bad," you chuckle, raising your hands in surrender.

As the sight of the parking lot comes into view, the two of you sprint towards your car, not minding of anything else around. You quickly open the passenger door for Taeyeon, and she jumps in eagerly. You then jump into the driver's seat, heart pounding with nervousness and you start the engine and leave the place for good.

"Right," you breathe out as you adjust yourself in your seat.

"Let's go to my place," she tells you.

"Well, duh. Of course I'll drop you at your place, noona. Where else would I even…"

"No."

"Huh? What do you mean ‘no’?"

"I mean, you're all sweaty and whatnot, so…"

Twiddling with her hair, Taeyeon then looks at you with a coy expression on her face.

"If you want… You can take a shower at my place. I wouldn’t mind.”

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

Author’s Notes:

And that's another SNSD member written down! I'm halfway there... Maybe. I really can't imagine her other than the "Noona You'd Like to Date" and with my renewed interest over the "Prince of Tennis" series, I thought I'd give this idea a shot. I don't know much about tennis tho... So I hope I did a decent job at least. 🙏

Also... Some of you may not know this, but a few hours from now is my Queen Taeyeon's birthday! Going 35 and still one of the hottest idols in the industry. God-fucking-damn. 🥵

I have more stories lined up (and waiting to be written by yours truly OMFG I hate myself) and I'm very eager to share them to everyone. The "Spotlight" series is still. Don't worry. I didn't forget about it and hopefully I don't. I just thought of making stories of other idols in between to break it up a bit.

Once again, thank you to @capslocked and @sparkynsfws for your help in polishing this story, as well as to @braaan for yet another fire poster. Thank you so much! 🤗

Thank you for reading! 🙇

#smut #kpopfanfiction #kpopfanfic #kpopsmut #snsdsmut #taeyeonsmut #readerinsert #malereader

[indigosunsetao3]

Protecting You

Your life, or safety, is threatened in front of one of the COD guys. How do they react to that?

Female reader perspective Warning: Unwanted advances, assault, roofie, torture, abusive ex

I noted each blurb for what would be featured for each person. Please make sure you check that before you read it.

Alex Unwanted Advances

"I'm fine really," you mutter as the man next to you at the bar insists on buying you another drink. You had turned him down twice now, sipping lightly on the still half-full glass you had.

"Come on, just one drink and if you think I'm that bad I'll leave you alone," he prods, waving the bartender over.

"Or you could leave me alone now," you tack on, looking over your shoulder for someone, anyone, to rescue you.

"Two of whatever she's having," the guy orders over your protests to the bartender to not make you one. The bartender doesn't catch it though, too busy helping the crowded bar and the music a little too loud to really hear.

"See not so bad," the guy grins before reaching out to grab at your hand which you quickly snatch away. "Oh come on, I'm not going to hurt you," he teases and reaches again.

"I believe she said she wasn't interested," a cool voice says from behind you. Looking over your shoulder you see another man on your left, leaning lightly on the bar glaring at the man next to you. He looks simple enough. About your age in a casual shirt and jeans but something behind his easy smile reeks of predator. Not for you though, but for the man who won't leave you be.

"It's none of your business," the guy snaps trying to literally grab your attention again by grabbing at your arm. "We're perfectly fine."

That's all it took. In the midst of you twisting away and telling the guy to just stop the man intervenes. He grabs your harassers wrist with lethal speed and twists it hard so his whole upper body contorts with the movement into the bar.

The glass from the drink your rescuer had just finished coming down to slam on the man's fingers. Hard enough that the glass shatters and the guy shrieks in pain as the stranger continues to hold the grip right on a pressure point.

"This should teach you to keep your hands to yourself," the man states, sliding his hand away to wipe on the small drink napkin. His movement so casual as if this were normal for him.

"Are you fucking crazy!" The guy yells dragging his arm back and staring at the bloody sticky mess of his hand. The glass shards had nicked a few of his fingers and he was screaming about how he would fuck you and this man up. Meanwhile the bartender was summoning the bar security not wanting a full on brawl to start and before you knew it all three of you were tossed out.

"Sorry about that," comes your rescuers voice as you both watch the other man head down the street with a few of his friends. "I couldn't sit there and listen anymore. I didn't mean for you to get kicked out into the cold," he grins a bit, then shivers as the wind rips right through both of you.

"No need to be sorry," you answer simply looking at him. "You didn't have to do that you know. But thank you..." you pause for an invitation for him to give you his name.

"Alex," he says with a small smile. "And no need to thank me. I wasn't going to just sit there and let him continue to hound you."

"Alex," you say with a nod trying to commit the name to memory. You doubted you would forget it though.

"Is your car around here?" Alex asks suddenly staring across the street. The men had stopped at the street corner and were watching the two of you.

"Ah, I walked from work," you answer. "I don't live too far," you tack on following his gaze to the men. "I'm sure it'll be fine..."

"I'll walk you home," Alex says after a second. "Or get you a taxi. I don't want you out here alone with them." He turns to look at you giving a small smile as you look up at him. "I promise I'm not a creep," he laughs a bit.

"We....we can walk," you venture after a second. "I feel like I owe you a drink after all that anyway. I think I've still got some left over tequila in the back of my cabinet." You aren't sure exactly why but you feel like you can trust him. "And if I thought you were a creep I'd be gone by now."

"You don't owe me anything," Alex says with a laugh before gesturing you to walk before shoving his hands in his pockets. His eyes sliding over to the men across the street to keep them always in his view as you go. "But I wouldn't turn down a nightcap, though tequila can be dangerous." He winks as you both hustle to cross the street.

Yes it can be, you silently agree with a small thrill.

Gaz Assault

Maybe staying to watch one more episode was a bad idea. You really should have let your friend drive you home but you lived all the way across town and the train would be there soon enough. So tucking your purse tight against your side you head toward the train station. It's dark out, darker than normal since it's a new moon, and the shadows seem extra long as you hurry down the street.

When you round the corner to the alley you'd normally take as a short cut you spot a group of people halfway down it The alley cut five minutes off the walk and was usually fine by day, just dirty. But at night it was ominous and the people standing on the end blended a little too well into the dark. You debated on what to do before deciding to just walk through. You knew the area, knew how to handle yourself and it was cold.

Just as you pass you realize it's a group of about four men and the minute they realize you are alone it starts. The catcalls, the jeers, the simple 'where you going sweetheart?' questions. You've heard them all before and the best thing to do is ignore it and keep walking. But they follow. You mutter a no thanks, you're fine and every other placating thing you know to do. But it doesn't let up.

Just as you're about to clear the alley a hand juts out to grab you by the back of your jacket and you scream. They've dragged you back and are taunting you about being rude and they just wanted to talk. Your reactions a bit slow thanks to the wine you had drunk but you shove them back and one hit on a man's chest lands hard enough that a guy goes flying backward. You blink trying to figure out how you managed that until you realize someone else had shown up.

In a series of grunts and groans the men are swiftly dealt with. One having to be hoisted up by his friends before they all jog out of the alleyway. You have your back pressed up against the wall as your savior turns to look at you and you flinch a bit not sure what they want. If he was able to take on four guys on his own who knew what else he could do.

"You alright?" The man asks as he straightens his jacket and looks to where the attackers disappeared to.

"Yes, I think so," you stammer out as you wipe at your face not realizing you've been crying. "Thank you, where did you even come from?" You ask looking around to spot a door open and now that you aren't screaming you can hear music coming from it.

"I was headed out for a smoke when I heard you," the man answers. "I'm inside with a few friends. Do you want to come in and join us? Get warmed up a bit, it's freezing out here," he gives you a soft smile as you continue to press your back against the wall.

"I was on my way to the train station," you start but the warm yellow light of the restaurant seems to be beckoning you. Walking the rest of the way to the train station seemed like a monumental task now and you were afraid to be alone.

"I take the train myself," he answers. "Come in for a bit and we can go together, yeah?" He gestures for the door where another man has poked his head out to see where his friend had gone missing.

"I, ah," you hesitate for just a second longer. "Sure alright," you finish as the man in the doorway looks between the two of you.

"Everything alright out here Gaz?" The guy asks, his Scottish accent strong, as he takes in the scene.

"All good," Gaz answers as he follows you to the door. "Just dealing with a little issue," he explains and in the light of the door you can see his knuckles are bloody as he gestures you inside.

"A little issue?" You almost squeak as he grabs a few napkins from the bar top and wipes his hands down. "You took on four men...for a stranger."

"I wasn't going to just leave you out there," Gaz replies with a small smile. "Besides, that was barely a warm up," he winks and pulls a chair out for you to join his group of friends who are all watching your curiously.

Ghost Roofie

You've had way too much to drink. It was a celebration party for your friends recent job promotion and it was so rare you let your hair down you decided to go all out. It had been a bar crawl, wandering from one loud crowded place to the next. By the time you got to the fourth place (maybe it was the fifth place?) you were stumbling a bit.

Giving the bouncer your ID you swayed a bit in your spot while he looked it over with his flashlight and eyed you. After a second he nodded to let you in and you slipped inside. This place was packed, people jammed up against one another as the music blared and by the time you finished your latest drink you were feeling light headed and most of your body was numb.

"Careful," a voice says next to you as you sidestep and nearly fall. Hands had caught you around the waist and you look up at the man who was grinning at you. Who was he? Fuck where had your friends gotten off to? "I think you may need to sit for a minute," he suggests taking the empty glass from your tingling fingers and you nod. Yes, sitting would be good.

"I just need to find my friends," you say as you look around the place but it's just a swarm of bodies, their faces all a blur. "Let me just," you start reaching for your phone.

"Let's get you outside where it's cooler then you can call them," the guy says, his arm still tight around you. "You're very flushed," he gives you a sweet smile and you nod again. You really did feel overheated, maybe that's why you felt so dizzy and uncoordinated.

You let the guy guide you toward the door before a hand shoots out of nowhere blocking the exit to the alley. You blink once, twice, swaying a bit as the guy helping you walk halts. This second man is huge, impossibly huge, as he holds his ground glaring at the two of you. It takes a second to register then you realize exactly who it is. You hadn't seen him in a while and your brain was so muddled the connection almost didn't click.

"Simon?" You ask, laughing a bit at the odds of him being here of all places. "When did you get back into town? Where's Johnny?" You inquire looking over your shoulder expecting to see your friend standing there. You giggle a bit as you lose your footing again but Simon's hand catches your bicep.

"I know what you fucking did," Simon says and you splutter. You hadn't done anything, what was his problem? Then you realize he isn't talking to you, he's talking to the guy that was attempting to lead you outside. "And so do the bouncers," he nods his head at the guy that had been working the door pushes through the crowd toward you all. "You're lucky there are too many witnesses or I'd snap your goddamn neck," Simon breathes as he pulls you toward him as the guy lets you go finally. The malice in his voice sends a shiver down your spine and you try to figure out why Simon was so mad.

"Let's go, love," Simon says after a second pushing the door open to the alley as the bouncer grabs the guy you were with. "I'm going to take you home," he explains as he sees you staring at him confused. "With me," he adds after a second as you continue walking, "you shouldn't be alone right now."

What did that even mean? You'd recovered from hangovers just fine in the past. Sure, they were miserable and you laid on the bathroom floor for hours but you were very much capable of paying for your poor decisions. You don't have a chance to question though as your surroundings start to spin. You groan a bit beginning to feel sick, the fun of being drunk was rapidly fading and was instead replaced by a sickening unease.

Time and memory seemed to warp and next thing you know Simon is tucking you gently into the passenger seat of his car. He's already got the engine running and cool air is blasting on you helping to dissipate some of nausea. It takes you a second to realize his hands are holding your face up to stare at him. His face his a hard mask as he assesses you and you feel him reach for your pulse, his fingers cool against your flushed skin. He's not happy with what he finds based on his reaction.

"Simon?" You ask a bit pathetically as your hands reach for him to grip his shirt. You know something is definitely not right and now the fear is settling in. Your lip trembles as you try to lock in your focus but everything feels like it's slipping away like holding water in your hands.

"I've got you," he answers, not flinching as you grasp at him. "You're safe with me," he assures you as his hand pushes your hair off your face where it had begun to stick to the sweat there.

"I know," you reply even though you barely knew him. You'd only met him a few times when Johnny brought him back on his leaves. You had been intrigued by him but he always stayed an arms length away. Friendly but closed off. Johnny said that's just how he was when you asked, though you caught the mischievous look he gave you when you asked about Simon a few more times.

"How did you..." you mumble, your fingers twisting up the fabric on his chest to hold on tight. You were afraid if you let go you'd just fall into the nothingness that was threatening to take you under.

"Johnny told me you were going out with friends tonight. I wanted to see you again," he ventures knowing you won't remember all of this in the morning. "I lost track of you in that stupid bar and by the time I found you again," he pauses to keep his temper in check, loosing a calming breath. "I should have said something sooner to you. Not let you be alone."

"I wanted to see you too," you let slip before shutting your eyes as the drugs finally took you under.

Price Torture

The mission had gone absolutely sideways. What should have been a relatively simple extraction turned out to be an ambush and you had lost two team members. They had opted to take you captive instead of killing you, hoping to get information out of you.

Four days of psychological torture. No sleeping, every time you tried they'd wake you up with loud noises after only twenty minutes. Only enough food to keep you from passing out and barely any water. The room they held you in was freezing and wet, no bed and a bucket for waste.

Perhaps the worst part though was the absolute silence. There was no noise aside from the damned dripping pipe that kept your room damp. You couldn't hear planes, cars or even a bird. The only way you knew time had passed was watching the shadows move across the wall from the small slit of a window a few feet up the wall.

You were supposed to check in with Price, he was the rendezvous drop off for your target. So, despite your team being dead, there was someone out there that knew you were missing. That was the only thing that kept you hopeful for a way out.

On day five the leader of the group enters your cell with an ominous look on his face. You don't back down as he grabs your shackled wrists and slams you down on the chair he's brought in. You twist and fight as one of his men ties you down earning a sharp slap across the face.

"Tell us about John Price," the man demands as he squats down to get in your face.

"I," you pause confused, "what?" This was not what you were expecting to be questioned about. "What about John Price? What does he have to do with me?' You question feeling your heartbeat kick up a bit.

"You were meeting him, tell us," the man demands as he fishes a lethal looking knife from his pocket and flicks it open. "Tell us and I'll make it quick," he smirks as he traces the knife slowly down your arm with just enough pressure to make a small stream of blood appear in it's wake.

"I don't know what you want me to tell you," you answer still a bit perplexed. "He's a man? He's a Captain?" Another resounding slap snaps your head sideways and you taste blood as you work your jaw before sitting back up again. "You need to ask better questions because I don't know what you want." You have an idea what they may want but there was no way they were getting anything out of you.

"Funny," the man says as he grabs your jaw to shake your face and pulls your focus back on him. "Tell us why he was involved in your extraction."

You don't give it up though. The men continue to abuse you, cutting at your skin, battering your face and nearly suffocating you with their hands only to bring you back right when you are about to pass out. It hurts to blink and you spit out a mess of drool and blood when they finally relent for now. The shadows on the wall are long so you know they had been at it for hours.

They leave you tied to the chair and you tilt forward trying to get some sleep. You were hoping they were occupied trying to decipher your run around answers to not notice you were taking a nap. Your sleep is deep but it doesn't last long as a hand lifts your head back up from where it was lolled against your shoulder. You jolt up in the dark and flinch back from the touch.

"It's me," a man says as you blink in the dark groaning a bit. "It's John," the familiar deep gravel of a voice clicks into place and you unclench the fists you had made unconsciously.

"John?" You splutter out trying to look around the room. It's too dark for you to see anything, the stark opposite of how they usually kept it in their methods of keeping you awake. "How'd you know where I was? " You pause realizing you also had no idea where you were. "Where am I exactly?"

"They picked a shit location to try and hide you," he says with a small chuckle as the tip of metal knife slides around your wrists to cut the bonds away. "Abandoned oil field, too open and easy to gain access," he says as he bends down to undo your feet. "Team's got the guards at the gates occupied for a few more minutes," he says before you hear the rustle of him putting the knife away. "Can you walk?"

"I think so?" You mutter as your hand reaches up to touch your puffy eye before you flinch at how tender it is. "They mostly focused on my face, don't need that for walking." You try an attempt to joke but based on Price's silence it falls flat. You can feel the anger roiling off him, though his touch is soft as he surveys the rest of your body for injuries. His fingers brush over the tender skin of your throat and you know it has to be black and blue with how rough they had been.

"How many are there left?" You ask as you rally your strength to stand up, you'd be no help in a fight right now. If you were quick maybe you could sneak out without anyone being the wiser.

"None left in this building," Price says as he gently grabs you under the armpits to help you stand. You look at him shocked, there were at least ten of them that you knew of. Once you're fully standing you grab his clothed forearms to steady yourself. You can feel something warm and wet on your fingertips, without seeing it you know it's blood. "Hunted the whole crew down before I came to find you. Amazing what a halligan can do to some skulls," he says darkly.

"Alone?" You ask as Price tucks one of your hands into the strap of his vest so he can guide you. You can hear him raise his gun as he moves out of the room. The thought of him taking on the men that killed your team by himself sends a jolt of fear down your spine. The risk alone was too great, especially since they were hunting him specifically.

"I do know how to take care myself," Price answers though there is a hint of amusement in his voice. "Couldn't wait on the team to catch up. I wasn't going to leave you in here another minute with them, love."

Soap Abusive Ex

"Get out!" You yell as your ex storms into the apartment from where he had hidden waiting for you to open the door to get a delivery. He's ranting and raving about indiscretions you made against him. How you screwed him over and were the reason he was failing at everything in his life. Everything was your fault, it was always your fault, and he was here to finally put a stop to ruining things for him.

The text to Soap had been quick, a subtle message sent with just two words. Help me. You didn't bother reaching out to the authorities, they never helped. Always saying there was nothing they could do despite the fact your ex had been escalating. First it was simple calling and texting nonstop. Then the letters shoved under your front door. Moving onto showing up at your job so security had to escort him out. Now this.

"What is this?" Your ex asks as he pulls a hooded sweater from underneath the blanket on the couch. Soap had stayed over nights when you had been afraid to be alone, sleeping on the couch. It was innocent, mostly, because you were too afraid to try and move on. Not that it mattered if it wasn't, you and your ex had been over for months. "Who's is this?" He advances on you.

"It doesn't matter," you answer backing up against the dining room table. "You need to get out of my house right now," you argue looking over his shoulder.

"It's his isn't it?" He shakes the hoodie at your face as he gets uncomfortably close. "That fucking Scot that I told you to stop talking to," he shoves you.

"What does it matter?" You fight back before gasping at the shove, the table biting into your lower back. He pushes you again before shoving you bodily to the floor to hover over you. "Please, just get out," you say as you try to back peddle on your hands to put some space between you and him.

"I'm not going anywhere," he snarls and moves to grab you by the hair when the front door bangs open. Five minutes. Soap got to you in five minutes. You weren't sure how he was able to get there in that short amount of time but you don't question it.

Your ex paused to look over his shoulder at the noise and that was enough time for Soap to clear the living room and grab him. He's hoisted up and back by the collar of his shirt and bodily tossed away from you. Soap moves to stand between you and him. A silent form of protection as he looks at the man who's on his ass staring at Soap with murder in his eyes.

"I wouldn't try it," Soap warns the guy with a small smirk as your ex stands back up and forms his hands into fists. "I've been waiting for fucking weeks to do this. It's only because of her you haven't had your ass handed to you before now."

You've stood up now, rubbing absently at your back as you keep your distance behind Soap. You're terrified as Soap cocks his head to the side assess the situation. It's not fear for Soap's safety, you know he can handle himself, but because of everything that just happened. Your ex doesn't take the warning and lunges for Soap.

It's over in a matter of seconds. Soap has him pinned on the ground with his knee in your ex's neck. Your ex is spluttering on the carpet with a bloody lip and busted nose, his free hand scrambling for purchase while Soap twists the other one behind him.

"I'm sorry, I can't fucking hear you," Soap hisses as he bends his head down closer to your ex's face. Your ex is actually squealing with pain as Soap twists his arm further back. If it goes any more you know the shoulder will pop out of the socket and you wince. This isn't exactly what you wanted, at least on a surface level. Yet you knew deep down calling Soap to help would somehow end in your ex receiving some sort of a beat down. Soap had been threatening it for some time now.

"I'm sorry! I'll go!" Your ex finally yells out before groaning as Soap gives his arm one last good yank before letting go and standing up.

"Get the fuck out," Soap says as he stands and moves to put himself between you and your ex again just to be safe. "And leave her alone. If I hear you keep coming round it won't be just me you'll have to deal with."

Your ex leaves with a slam of the door, muttering empty threats about calling the police. In the ringing silence you feel your knees buckle and you grab the table as you start to sob. It had all been so overwhelming and terrifying you don't know another way to process everything.

"Shh, lass," Soap says quietly, his tone turning into the soft gentle one that you knew. The aggressive Soap you had just witnessed was something he hadn't shown you. Sure you heard stories but seeing it live was a whole other story. "I'm sorry you had to see that," he says as he gently coaxes you into his arms and plants a kiss on the top of your head.

"Can you stay?" You ask after long minutes of silence as Soap rubs your back, still holding you. "I don't want...if he comes back," you mumble, the anxiety dreaming up different scenarios of him escalating it.

"Of course," he answers, "couch sort of has my name on it anyhow." He chuckles a bit spotting his sweatshirt there then realizes that's probably what set your ex off in a tirade. He had forgotten it that morning.

"Stay with me," you say after a second, letting him fill in that blank of what exactly you were requesting. "I don't want to be alone," you tack on in explanation as Soap raises his eyebrows.

It had been going this way for a while now but your fear of your ex had always put a stop to it. You'd been afraid of how he'd react and what he would do if he found out. Soap remained ever patient and understanding through it all and after tonight you were tired of waiting.

"Whatever you want lass," Soap answers but you can feel him smiling as he presses another kiss to your temple.

#call of duty #cod #call of duty fanfic #my fic #fanfic #fanfiction #cod fanfic #cod drabble #random musings #cod alex #cod gaz #cod ghost #cod john price #cod soap #alex keller x reader #gaz x reader #ghost x reader #john price x reader #soap x reader #tf 141 x reader #18+ only

[sourbinnie]

☆ regrets & replacements ☆ (2)

♡ genre ¿? ♡ -> angst with a hopeful ending ♡ pair ¿? ♡ -> maknae line!skz x gn!reader ♡ plot ¿? ♡ -> it's not about making up, it's about owning up to your mistakes. ♡ warnings ¿? ♡ -> swearing ♡ request ¿? ♡ -> yes!

a/n -> like i said in the hyung line ending this ain't a happy or a sad ending, this is more of a mix of both and i would say it's more neutral. i really feel like i didn't nail it but i'm gonna publish it anyways because i don't know if i can write it any other way. thank you for following this scenario! it means a lot to me the love that this one got in particular.

first part -> maknae line

jisung ✉

as you got home you were faced with a lot of doubt in your mind. why didn't you tell him that it was your birthday? why didn't he remember? were you just that forgettable? did he just care more about soohee than you? was it always going to be like this? it hurt, it really did. i mean you knew jisung had a tendency to forget everything but it felt like that didn't happen when it came to soohee.

minho was blowing up your phone but you couldn't seem to pick it up. you weren't ready to talk about anything at the moment, you just wanted to cry and that you did. it was as if the tears wouldn't stop falling from your eyes as you thought that maybe this would be the end. you just never seemed to be the priority and when you saw the door opening you weren't surprised but still felt like wanting to be alone.

"baby, baby, baby! i'm so fucking sorry. i cancelled everything that i was gonna do and i'm here now." jisung rambled as he was going around your apartment but you didn't move. you couldn't look at him because you weren't sure of what to say and you felt like you couldn't talk without breaking down and crying in front of him. jisung noticed and felt like crying himself as he took in everything. "(y/n) i'll make it right, i know i was an idiot and forgot but i need another chance."

"it's not about forgetting sung." you said which caught him off guard. this was more serious wasn't it? he was in deep trouble, he could sense it and it was scaring the living hell out of him. "you put her first again, you always do this. i just wanna feel like your partner but i sometimes feel as if she was dating you and not me."

"don't fucking say that. i only want you and she's just a friend, well was a friend because i don't want her in my life if she doesn't like you." he explained and you never wanted this. even if it hurt that she didn't like you, you never wanted to be the type of significant other that would dictate who your boyfriend could and couldn't hang out with. "i care about you, it's only you i want at the end of the day."

"i think i need some time, baby. we're not over but i just don't know how to feel right now." you said and he nodded as he heard your words. he wanted for you to be okay and that was his priority right now, nothing else. 

"can i at least take you out for your birthday? i know minho planned something." he said as he removed the tears from your cheeks. you gave him a little smile because he was about to cry at any moment too and couldn't resist hugging him. "i'm such a cry baby when it comes to you."

"i know, i love you like this though." you mumbled and let him sob in your arms for a while as you held him. you knew in the end though that things would be okay if you worked them out together.

felix ✉

looking at the clock in the kitchen was the way you were spending your time. your birthday was almost over and there was still no felix in sight. you sighed to yourself, there were no more tears to fall, it was just you and your numbness against the world. you didn't go out and celebrate, you didn't buy a cake or a present to yourself because there was no point if you felt completely destroyed.

to others it might seem a little too much but to you it was a big deal. you wanted to talk to someone about how you felt and how it was taking a toll on you mentally but when you looked at your phone and saw that background of felix smiling and holding you close, you had to shut it off again.

"(y/n)? can you please open the door? i forgot the key." his voice said through the other side and this was beyond what you wanted. you couldn't have this conversation right now but you knew you would have to because you couldn't avoid it forever. you opened the door to be met by a very distraught looking felix, his hair was messy and he was panting like he ran a marathon all the way to your house. his eyes were glassy as he looked at you and you just let him in.

"lix i would never ask this in other circumstances but why are you here?" you asked in a low tone and it hurt felix so much to see you this way. his usually bright and sparkled eyed partner was looking down and not being able to hold their gaze to meet him. your voice sounded broken like you've been crying for hours and it was all his fault. he wouldn't blame you if you didn't forgive him this time.

"i-i had to see you. i know how much i fucked up this time and i know how you feel about her, how you've always felt and i took it for granted." he said and the more you heard the more it hurt. "but i care way more about having you than maintaining a toxic friendship with someone who didn't respect my partner and i know it might be too late, i'm sorry (y/n). not only did i miss your birthday, i missed getting to see you smile, i missed getting you the presents, i missed going out with you and the people who actually care about me and i'm so deeply sorry."

it was as if he was losing himself as he spoke, you couldn't stand seeing that. it was going to be hard getting through this and being able to be okay with felix again. this was not about getting a present or remembering a date on a calendar, it was about trust and you knew that even after all, you trusted felix with your whole life.

"lix i love you, i really do. i feel like it's all too much right now and i just wanna go to sleep but i would love to try again tomorrow. maybe take me out and we can talk?" you offered as you got close to him, grabbing his cold hands and seeing him nod. "slow steps for now baby but i know we'll get through it."

"slow steps." he repeated and looked at you, finally eye to eye. he gave you a warm smile that you adored so much and then leaned in to kiss your cheek. it never failed to make you smile as well and that's all you needed as the clock struck midnight.

seungmin ✉

waking up all alone today felt dreadful. the excitement from yesterday was all gone when you remembered how you decided to spend your birthday and as you checked your phone and there was still no sign from seungmin, you gave up. you were going to try to continue with your day and not think about your boyfriend, soohee or anything negative that could ruin your mood immediately. but when you looked at your phone again, you had almost a spam level of messages from jeongin telling you to come over.

you knew what this was about (or you hoped). a certain part of you wanted to stay away from the dorms and not think about seeing seungmin but the other part that was louder knew you had to go and give him a chance to speak. you put on your shoes and grabbed your things to head to the dorms as you thought of the conversation you were about to have with your boyfriend.

he was waiting impatiently for you to arrive and when you did, jeongin opened the door and greeted you with a hug. it broke his heart when you didn't greet him the same way or with a kiss but he knew he deserved it after all that happened yesterday. you were both standing there, waiting for the other to speak and it was really heavy on his chest the fact that it didn't feel natural like it always has.

"okay why did you make me come here? even though you didn't text, it was jeongin who did." you said breaking the silence and he felt like a coward, everything was building itself up to be the last time you two ever meet didn't it? it was killing him. he couldn't lose you, no he wouldn't lose you.

"i knew that if i texted you, you would've ignored me. that's what i felt was going to happen." he explained and he was kind of right but you still wanted him to tell you something, hearing nothing from him made you doubt everything even more. "i feel like the biggest idiot on the planet right now. not only i didn't spend your birthday with you, i just simply disappeared and i couldn't even send a message."

"well i'm glad you're realizing this now but i just wanna know seungmin if you care about this relationship. i know it might sound like i'm exaggerating but i feel so hurt by what happened that it makes me just doubt everything. i want to be with you but do you want to be with me?" you asked and seungmin wasn't one to cry at all but this ticked all the boxes to making him feel like the worst boyfriend ever. 

"i want to be with you forever (y/n). there's no one else for me and i know you're asking because of soohee. she doesn't mean anything to me like that and if you want me to cut off ties with her, i will." he said confidently even if he felt the tears building up which he wiped them away immediately. you had never seen him cry and he didn't want to look weak or like he didn't mean the things he was saying in front of you. this image of seungmin showing his emotions was new to you but it felt real and honest.

"i don't want you to do anything because i told you to or you feel like it would make me feel better, you know? i just want you to be happy minnie. i was devastated with what happened yesterday and i can't say that forgiving you is gonna be easy." you explained and he felt a sob coming through because you were just so fucking caring and he couldn't even process why you were giving him a second chance. he caught the distance by hugging you because he couldn't take the coldness anymore, he wanted to feel you close and as you held him, you knew you couldn't be far away from him either.

"i know today is not your birthday but i'll make you remember everything about this day like it was if you let me baby." he muttered in your arms and you didn't have to say anything because you trusted his word. you weren't even thinking about your birthday, just how you and him fit like puzzle pieces when you held each other like that.

jeongin ✉

as you got home, you dropped all your things on your couch and noticed immediately that jeongin's things were already there. so you weren't gonna be able to avoid him after all you thought because right now all you wanted was to go to sleep and absolutely forget about everything that you went through tonight. just thinking about the fact that your boyfriend was with someone else when he planned the reservation and also the fact that she picked up his phone for him was unforgivable.

you could hear the key at the door and then faced that way to see your boyfriend standing there with so many things that your first instinct was to help him out. you hated yourself for being so nice sometimes but it was impossible not to be kind to jeongin even if he was on thin ice right now. he looked at you and could see the mad expression you were giving him, of course he deserved it.

"(y/n)? you probably hate to see me here but we need to talk." he said and you didn't respond because you felt like crying all over again just seeing him there. you put the cake that he bought in the kitchen and the presents on the coffee table, not even glancing at them because you couldn't care less about rushed last minute gifts that went no thought into them. "please, i know you hate me right now but i can't stand us being distant to each other and not hearing your voice."

"jeongin." you said and it went through him like a knife because he wasn't used to his full name. he looked at you and saw the tears that he feared so much, he promised you so many times he wouldn't be the cause of them and here you were. "i don't even know what to say. you forgot yeah, i can't get past that and i wouldn't be so mad if you weren't hanging out with someone who hates me in every way and you let her pick up your phone! it just feels like she's more your partner than i am sometimes."

"no, not at all. i won't ever be with her and i don't want to be with her." he said looking at you and getting closer, you didn't take a step back because even if you were fuming you just wanted to be held by him. "you're the only one for me and that won't ever change even if tonight i let you down, even if you make me leave right now, i won't want anyone that's not you." 

"you just made me feel so humiliated there all alone." you said and he nodded trying to not make the mental image of you waiting for him in the restaurant but he failed to because that's all he could think about when he was coming to your apartment. "i don't know if we'll able to fix this."

"i want you. scratch that, i need you (y/n)." he begged and you knew that you needed him too. his tears were falling softly but you wiped them off because seeing him upset was a sight that drove you insane. it was a mix of emotions for you and for him right now, a roller coaster that didn't stop. he couldn't stop looking at you, he needed a sign that this could be fixed and that you would be alright but he couldn't find any.

"give me some time to think yeah? i promise nothing bad is gonna happen and i just need it to process everything." you said and it was finally settled. he was desperate to make this right again and he would but he needed to respect your decision and that's what he would do.

"can i kiss you?" he asked and you were hesitant but still nodded. his hand on your cheek as he leaned in closer to seal the end of the day with a little kiss, nothing too passionate but it was just right for that moment as he pulled away. you looked at him and hoped everything would turn out right in the end but with jeongin holding you, there were no more doubts in your mind.

#sourbinnie #skz imagines #skz reactions #skz scenarios #skz x reader #skz angst #skz drabble #stray kids imagines #stray kids reactions #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #skz #stray kids #jisung x reader #felix x reader #seungmin x reader #jeongin x reader

[currantlee]

Something I love about the memory of Zelda and Sonia in the German dub of TotK...

(Translation: And your Link, too, is surely awaiting your return.)

Sonia uses the phrase "dein Link" ("your Link") here, which in German is a common phrase to indicate the belief that someone might have romantic feelings for another person. And the way Pauliner Weiner (Sonia's German VA) delivers this line very much indicates that she is indeed teasing Zelda a little here! Sonia ships Zelink confirmed!!

But wait. There's more!

(Translation: May one ask who this Link is?)

Rauru definitely notices this too! His tone, as well as the use of the very specific article "dieser" ("this") indicate as much. If he was simply curious about who Link is in order to follow the conversation, he would more likely use the phrase "Darf ich fragen, wer Link ist?" ("May I ask who Link is?"). He is also teasing Zelda a little here.

Zelda's reply is also very sweet! While her first two lines are nothing special (she is essentially just recapping the events Breath of the Wild, as well as what led up to it), it gets interesting once Rauru reacts to her description, once again in a somewhat teasing manner (indicated by both the delivery and the language of the line):

(Translation: Oh, a hero you say.)

To which Zelda replies with:

(Translation: Link is the most steadfast and fearless knight who ever existed.)

(Translation: Yes...)

(Translation: He is so strong...)

That last line is pretty much the same in English, but Julia Casper (Zelda's German VA) does an amazing job making it sound like Zelda is not only admiring Link throughout this entire short monologue she is having, but like she is talking more to herself than to Rauru and Sonia, almost like she forgets they're there for a moment because she is thinking about Link. I really loved this little touch!

Also note that Zelda is not explicitly talking about physical strength in the last line (although she might be. It isn't clarified, leaving the interpretation of what kind of strength she is talking about up to the player).

(Translation: ... and on top of it all, he has a good heart!)

This last part seems to be directed at Rauru and Sonia again. But we're still not done!

After Rauru remarks that Zelda seems to think highly of Link and that the way she's talking about her knight makes him want to meet him, Sonia agrees and delivers a final line that, once again, makes it very clear that the two of them are engaging in a little bit of good-mannered teasing in this scene (both from what's actually said here and how Paulina Weiner delivers the line):

(Translation: Chivalrous, and full of gallantry...)

(Translation: Don't make us so curious, Zelda!)

And then they all break out in light-hearted laughter.

All in all, I really love this scene! Huge respect to the German VAs, who did an absolutely stellar job (not just in this scene, but for the game in general - especially Julia Casper!).

#The Legend of Zelda #Tears of the Kingdom #TotK #LoZ #Meta #Legend of Zelda #LoZ Meta #Analysis #LoZ Analysis #German #German dub #Zelink #Zelda #Sonia #Rauru #Currantlee here #Currantlee translating

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Green Eyed Monster.

Eddie's ex is at the bar you visit and has her eyes set on Eddie.

Eddie however only has eyes for you.

Warnings: Minors dni, 18+, jealous reader, bit of angst, older Eddie x Reader.

Don't copy, reuse or repost my work

♥️

The sounds of laughter coming from the bar wss enough to have you on edge for the last hour or so.

What you thought would be a quiet drink with Eddie had turned into something quite different.

She was here, Elena. His ex before he met you and seeing her in the flesh was a shock to your system.

She was stunning, perfect body, killer smile and radiating seduction. It was enough to send you to this quiet corner, nursing a drink (or three) with jealousy eating away at you.

Eddie had pointed at you and you heard him say he was here with you. The look on Elena's face was of pure malice and she pratically looked down her nose at you which made you feel even more miserable.

Every time Eddie went to the bar for a drink Elena would pounce on him and hold his attention and cut into your time with him.

You weren't stupid, you knew Eddie had been with a lot of women, he was older than you (39 while you were just turning twenty six)

He was so much more experienced than you and yes you shouldn't get jealous like this, he was with you and that's what mattered but you couldn't help it, especially when Elena made it clear what she thought of you.

Fed up with feeling sorry for yourself and growing irratated by Elena draping herself all over Eddie you decided to head to the bar for another drink.

You've just sat down when a guy from the table closest to the bar is by your side.

"Why hello beautiful, you here alone? Can I get you a drink" You hold up your newly purchased drink and nod to Eddie.

"I'm here with my..." Actually what was Eddie to you? Was he your boyfriend? Was your relationship going anywhere what wasn't just sex?

You can feel Eddie's gaze on you and you catch his eye noticing the way he's glaring at the guy beside you.

It was perfectly fine for him to let his gorgeous ex flirt openly with him though you thought to yourself and grew even more annoyed with him.

In fact you wanted nothing more than to drink a little bit more and forget your troubles. Ignoring Eddie you excuse yourself from the bar and decide to dance.

Maybe you're a little bit tipsy but the music is so good and it's beginning to cheer you up just a little bit.

The guy from the bar sidles up to you and he smiles at you as he dances along beside you introducing himself as Nathan.

That's when Eddie appears with Elena nowhere in sight and he moves to take your hand.

"Come on. We're leaving" You pout and shake your head, just wanting to dance.

"Thought you were too busy chatting to Elena" You shrug his hand away and he scowls at your tone. You don't mean to be so snappish but you're still a bit pissed off.

"Yeah dude, back off we were dancing" Nathan huffs but pales under Eddie's vicious glare.

"We're leaving. Now" he takes your hand once more and leads you outside.

It's a short walk to his apartment and Eddie is fuming silently as you head to his.

The whole walk is in silence until you're inside his apartment. He shrugs off his lesther jacket and glares at you.

"Bed now" his tone leaves no room for arguments but you're in no mood to be good tonight and fold your arms across your chest, not moving an inch.

"No"

"Why are you acting like such a brat? Do you want me to take you over my knee right now because I'm fucking tempted"

Just the thought makes you wet and you're mad at yourself for being so turned on when you're so annoyed with him.

"Do what you want" You reply and your answer is met with him throwing you over his shoulder and carrying you to bed.

A harsh slap to your backside quietens your protests and he dumps you on the bed.

He kisses you and it's hot, demanding and it makes you needy for more.

Eddie smirks as he makes quick work of both of your clothes and his mouth his all over your naked body.

"You're mine sweetheart, how do you think it made me feel seeing that boy drool all over you"

You're barely capable of any thought as he uses his fingers to rub relentlessly at your clit.

Some of your anger returns a little bit as you remember Elena and you glare at him, he slows down the pace with his fingers suprised at your fury.

"Didn't think you were too bothered when you had that goddess drooling over you all night" he smirks and you're just about to move away from him when he gently tilts your chin up so you look at him.

"You're jealous?" Tears burn in your eyes and you use his suprise to shrug away from him and begin to pull on your clothes.

"Yes I was because she's stunning and perfect and the way she looked at me made me feel like a slug and like I'm not worthy of you"

He takes a step towards you but you shake your head trying to hold yourself together.

"Maybe she's right. I don't even know what I mean to you besides sex so maybe someone like Elena would be better for you because if I stay with you any longer I'm going to fall even deeper for you and...

He strides over to you and gently places a finger on your lips.

"I don't want Elena. You're adorable when you're all pouty and jealous but let me make one thing clear, I told Elena about you and made it clear I wasn't interested in her. I told her to clear off princess"

"Why? Like I said she's gorgeous" he dismisses this.

"No one is as beautiful as you in my eyes, I wish you would see that. I wish you would see how fucking madly in love with you I am"

His confession stuns you, this time your tears are for happy reasons.

"I love you" You tell him and he kisses your forehead.

"A thousand Elena's couldn't compare to you sweetheart" he kisses you and it's slow and gentle, perfect.

The tension evaporates and you spend the rest of the night in Eddie's arms. Those three little words spoken again and again.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson smut #older eddie munson

[felixsramen]

My Everything

Warnings: poly ateez x reader, Wooyoungs a sub, reader is mostly a sub, San is a dom, oral (f receiving), dumbification, 3some, hickeys, breeding kink, might be forgetting more but that's what I have so far.

You hated this. You hated everytime watching as your boyfriend would fight for money. Hated seeing every busted lip and black eye he's gotten. Yet here you were currently wrapping one of his feet as he did the same with his hands. He was always quick to tell you he's doing it for your other boyfriend and you.

He looks down at you as he tightens the wrap around his hand. He grabs your chin and smiles at you. "Don't look so down okay? I promise I'll be fine. I'm always fine." He says smiling at you still.

"I know but I don't want you to get hurt." You tell him.

He sighs. "I know love but I promised you and Wooyoung that I'd do everything in my power to make sure we'd live well off didn't I? And besides I promised you guys I'd save up for rings." He says him bringing your hand up and going over your ring finger.

You knew he was right. You guys wouldn't be making it if it wasn't for San street fighting.

Suddenly the door opens and in walks your other black haired boyfriend. Sunglasses on his head, and in that black and white shirt you had tried convincing him of getting rid of not even a week ago.

"Looks like it's going to be a good night. So many people showed up. A lot of people bet against you so I'm sure we'll be walking away with a lot of money tonight." Wooyoung says coming up to you and San.

You sigh now sitting on the floor. "Well that's good I guess." You say and San nods. He intertwines your fingers together.

Wooyoung comes up beside him and leans his head on his shoulder. "How are you feeling?" He asks San who shrugs.

"Like I do everytime. Nervous, excited, a little scared." San says his other hand intertwining with Wooyoungs.

He looks up at his boyfriend. "You got this. You always got this." He says and San smiles at him.

"Only because of you two." He says and Wooyoung shakes his head.

"We're not the ones training 24/7. You got this San." Wooyoung says and San nods. Wooyoung looks at you and smiles.

You look at your watch that was given to you by San. "What time does he need to be out there?" You ask Wooyoung.

"7:45." He says and your watch reads 7:35. "10 minutes." You say to them. San nods and so does Wooyoung.

"I hate that shirt. You should've thrown it away when I asked you to." You say to Wooyoung. He looks offended.

"Why? I think I look sexy in it." He says to you sitting up. "It does look sexy on you but you need a new one that one looks stretched out." You say to him and he sighs.

"I guess you're right." Wooyoung says realizing he probably did accidentally stretch it out.

You watch as San grabs something from one of his bags nearby. "Here. I heard Y/N asking you to throw it away last week and it does look overstretched." He says handing him a box.

You watch Wooyoung take it and open it and inside is that exact shirt but it doesn't look like it was worn out. "San. You didn't have to." Wooyoung tells his boyfriend.

"But I did." San says smiling at his boyfriend.

You look at San and smile. "That ones going to look even better on you." You tell Wooyoung as he takes that shirt off and puts on the other one quickly.

"I think it's time for you guys to go out there." You tell them when Wooyoung buttons the last one. It showed off his body nicely.

San and Wooyoung nod as they get up and you stand too. "I love you." San says kissing Wooyoung even though he'd be out there right beside him.

"I love you too." Wooyoung says when San pulls away smiling.

San looks at you smiling. "I love you too." He says kissing your lips. His lips are soft and you can't help but want more so you're disappointed when he pulls away.

He looks at you pouting and laughs. "I promise you I'll give you more after." He says his head against yours.

"Okay." You say letting out a breath. You look at Wooyoung who is smiling at you both. "You do look very sexy in it." You tell him and he smirks.

"Are you trying to get me to stay in here and fuck you?" He asks and you laugh. You bring him into a kiss and his lips are just as soft as Sans and you want more from just as much as you wanted more from San. You pull away and smile.

San smiles at yours and Wooyoungs interaction. "Lets go before everyone thinks we forfeit or some shit like that." Wooyoung tells his boyfriend. San laughs. "I wouldn't dream of it." San says he blows you a kiss walking towards the entrance.

"You better not let him get hurt or I'll kill you myself Jung Wooyoung." You tell your boyfriend who just laughs following behind San.

You watch them walk out and you can't help but smile. You pack Sans and Wooyoungs things in their bags hoping you wouldn't miss much because of your messy boyfriends. You pick up Sans phone remembering the night you had met them.

Your friends inviting you to one of Sans street fights. You didn't want to go at first but after your friends were persistent you reluctantly agreed. He was incredible watching.

After the match you had tried finding the bathrooms and got lost and opened a door and you walked into San and Wooyoung making out. Sans hands was on Wooyoungs chin and Wooyoungs hands were in Sans hair as he sat on his lap.

You were not expecting to see the manager of the fighter and the fighter making out. It was Wooyoung who had noticed you first. He smirked at you and grabbed Sans face making him look over at you. Sans eyes got bigger watching you stand in the doorway frozen. He hadn't noticed there was an audience.

"You're pretty." The manager says to you. "I'm Wooyoung, this is San." He says looking at you smirking. San waves shyly at you.

After you unfreeze you immediately get to apologizing. "I'm so sorry. I was just trying to find the bathroom. There's no signs or anything." You explain turning around ready to leave this embarrassing situation.

Suddenly you feel a hand on yours. "Why are you leaving?" Wooyoung says to you pouting. You look back at him.

"Come play with us." Wooyoung says smirk coming to his face again. You look at San who watches wide eyed.

"I don't know about that." You say looking at the ground now.

Wooyoungs hand goes to your chin and makes you look him in the eye. "San doesn't mind. Right?" Wooyoung says looking back at him.

"No. I don't mind." He says and you see his Adams apple bob up and down.

He looks back at you. "Come on pretty." Wooyoung says. "You can say no." San says and you look at him. Wooyoung nods letting you know that's a choice too.

Yet you don't say no. Instead nodding. "That's a yes pretty?" Wooyoung asks you. "Yes." You say and he smiles at you.

"Good choice." He says pulling you into the room. That's how you had met both boys because of Wooyoungs boldness. They had immediately asked you on a date after having sex and you agreed and after many more dates you were currently here.

You look at your watch realizing you've dozed off thinking about your first meeting. Luckily it was 8:00.

You finished the bags and quickly made it out squeezing through the crowd to the front. You watched as the guy throws a punch towards Sans stomach. He replies with one of his own.

The side of Sans lip is bleeding. He has bruises all over his body from the other guy. Sans white beater is now dirty and you can't help but watch as the guy throws a punch towards Sans face. San stumbles back and the guy punches him again. San falls onto the ground with a loud thud as the crowd screams. You're terrified as the guy punches San again in the face.

"San get up!" You yell towards him and he must hear you as the guy goes to his corner because he gets up again, throwing himself in the corner with Wooyoung as Wooyoung pours water on him. You can tell San is exhausted.

"Come on San! You've done this before. You got this! Go out there and kick his ass." Wooyoung says encouraging him.

"I should kick your ass after this." San says and you'd laugh if it wasn't for San being in a lot of pain. He has a new cut on his face.

Wooyoung whispers something to San. San says something back and Wooyoung waves him off to go back in there. You watch as pain flickers across Sans face but he sits up. You can tell he's ready to end this fight because the guy gets up and San gets up with new found confidence.

San walks out the corner and you watch as he steps and spins into the air. Sans form is beautiful as his right leg comes up and swings around. The guy tries blocking but it's too late and San lands a kick straight into his face. The guy fall as San spins out of it. He looks at him tilting his head knowing he's won this and walking around him.

Wooyoung eyes are wide as he comes through the ring a twenty inbetween his lips. He goes through the ropes and to the guy. Yelling in his face along with the crowd "1! 2! 3!" With the guy still out on the ground San sprays water from his mouth into the air in victory as the crowd throws their money into the ring.

You watch as San brings his hands to Wooyoungs face and his head to Wooyoungs as he yells in victory.

You're beyond proud of him as he takes another sip of the water and releases it from his mouth as it comes down like droplets of rain. Wooyoung watches in happiness.

The guys manager helps him up as he walks out of there. The crowd yells for San. A bag of money comes from someone to Wooyoung. San slips through the ring with Wooyoung. They head towards the room. You slip past the crowd in the direction of the room.

You open the door and see Wooyoung opening the bag and pulling out the cash showing it to San. You close the door behind you. "Do you see this Y/N?" San says happily.

You know the adrenaline is pumping through San. "That kick was fucking amazing!" You say going up to him as he picks you up and spins you around.

"No it was so fucking cool! How long have you been practicing that?" Wooyoung says excited about the kick too.

"Like a month." San says happily kissing all over your face.

He moves away and towards the money. "It's so fucking much." San says going through the bag of money.

Wooyoung comes up to you and kissing you. "That's our boyfriend!" Wooyoung says happily and you are just as excited as him.

"I know. I can't believe it sometimes!" You say and he laughs looking at you.

You look at San the smile never leaving his face. "We need to get home and get you cleaned up." You tell him and he nods. "Do you feel it?" You ask him and he shakes his head.

"Nope I think my adrenaline is still pumping." He tells you and you go up to him taking his face in your hands. You look at the cut on the side of his face.

"Luckily it's not too deep." You tell him and you look at the cut on his lip. He wraps his hand around your waist. He goes to kiss you but you put a hand up.

"I love you to death San but I'd rather not taste your blood on my lips." He pouts but nods understanding.

You smile at him and he smiles back. "Let's go home lovebirds. I want to eat and get laid." You roll your eyes smiling at Wooyoung.

"Lets go before he jumps on us and has us having sex here again." San says whispering and pulling away from you reluctantly.

"I heard you and that wasn't on me. You shouldn't have changed in front of me." Wooyoung says grabbing his bag.

San grabs his bag too. "So I can't change my clothes now without you jumping on me?" He says an eyebrow raised as you guys make your way out of the building.

Wooyoung comes beside you and intertwines your fingers together. "Nope." He says and you laugh. San sighs and shakes his head with a smile.

"You look good even without changing and I'd be all over you if it wasn't for the blood and dirt." You say looking at San who smirks.

"Well we definitely need to go home soon now." He says as Wooyoung unlocks the van.

"I call shotgun!" You yell going to the passenger side. San and Wooyoung laugh at you.

"Well you got to get in the back because I'm driving." Wooyoung says laughing. San shakes his head smiling and opens the back of the van climbing inside.

San opens the curtain in the back as Wooyoung gets in and starts the van up. He adjusts the mirror and starts off towards your shared house. You can't help but think to when you found out they were staying in a van but within 2 months of being with you San had managed to save up enough money for a house.

"What are you thinking about?" San says head poking through the curtain.

"Just about when we met and you guys were staying in the van." You say shrugging.

San smiles at you. "That was a fun time wasn't it Woo?" San says to his boyfriend who looks into the mirror for a second at San.

"Yeah. I also remember how many times after your fights we'd fuck in the back." Wooyoung says with a slight smirk.

"Maybe we should do that again sometime." San says hand coming to your face making you look at him.

"We definitely should." Wooyoung says glancing at him again. San looks at Wooyoung for a second who pulls into the house.

As soon as you get into the house and San locks the door you're pressed against it. You're met with Wooyoung who is looking at you. "Going to play nice? Let me fuck you dumb?" He asks you.

You smirk back at him. "Depends. Going to let me play with you?" You ask him back and he nods immediately ready to comply with anything you want.

"Then of course you can." You say smiling at him leading him to the room by his wrist.

As you get in the room you push him against the wall. Your kiss along his throat and he lets out a whine. You pull away from him smirking. "What do you want Woo?" You say hand massaging him through his pants.

"Fuck. Please-Please kiss me." He says letting out a slight whimper as your hand presses down a little more on him.

"Of course I will." You say your lips meeting his. He's desperate in the kiss and you force your tongue in his mouth. He lets out strangled moans as your tongue is exploring inside his mouth. Your hands go to his hair and it meets the sunglasses he was wearing and you throw them onto the ground.

"Starting without me?" San says pressing his body against yours. You pull away from Wooyoung and there's a trail of saliva left between you both.

Sans fingers dig into your hips. "I asked you something." He says voice dark.

"Yes. He was asking so nicely I couldn't help it." You say to San who chuckles.

"Of course you can't help it. You're just as cock hungry as he is." San says flipping you around and forcing you on the side of Wooyoung. "My stupid cock hungry babies." San says his face now cleaned up and there's a scar now on his cheek and the blood on his lip is gone but you can still see the mark.

"Can't think about anything than cock huh?" San says to you and you nod.

His hand goes to Wooyoungs face who has been watching the whole time. "Going to be a good boy and fuck her good for me?" He asks Wooyoung who nods quickly earning a chuckle from San who moves his hand from Wooyoungs face now.

"Do a good job and I'll fuck you pretty boy." San tells him and Wooyoung nods eagerly. San pulls away from you and Wooyoung latches onto you. His mouth going to your throat and sucking it.

Your skin darkens as he leaves hickeys along it. His hands go to your shirt pulling it above you and he immediately latches back onto your body leaving hickies. You moan hand going to his own shirt. His mouth connects to yours once again. You unbutton it and Wooyoung doesn't let you pull from the kiss as you do it instead forcing his tongue deeper into your mouth and you moan against him.

He pulls away letting you catch your breath as he pulls you onto the bed. He makes quick work of your pants throwing it on the ground somewhere. He goes to leaving hickies against your neck again and he unbuttons your bra and you let it slip off of you as he throws that to the ground too.

He immediately takes one of your boobs in his mouth and your hands go to his hair again. You let out moans as Wooyoung pinches and pulls at your other boob. "Please Woo!" You say whining. He switches and takes your other boob in his mouth and sucks against it while toying with your other spit covered boob.

"Fuck Woo- Please." You say and you try pulling him off and guiding you to your pussy knowing how amazing his tongue is against your clit but you get a slap on the thigh.

"Patience baby. Let our Woo have his fun." He says hand rubbing against your thigh that he slapped just seconds ago.

Wooyoung slurps your boob and circles his tongue around it. He pulls away leaving kisses on your stomach and trailing down. He places a kiss against your clothed pussy and you whine wanting more. Wooyoung knows that and takes his time peeling your soaked panties from your core.

Your slick has your panties sticking to you as he pulls it away but Wooyoung just watches with pride filling his chest at how wet you had gotten just from him playing with your nipples.

"Look how wet she is Woo. It's all because of you pretty boy." San says to his boyfriend running a hand through his hair as he throws your soaked panties to the ground. Without much thinking Wooyoung licks your pussy making you moan out.

It's like music to his ears as he immediately shoves his face into your cunt. He licks nonstop causing you to let out moan after moan. Your hands go back to his hair as you roll your hips into his face but Wooyoung brings his hands to your hips stopping you from rolling against his tongue.

You let out moans as Wooyoung works his tongue deep into you and you can't do anything but let him. It seemed to be Wooyoungs favorite thing. He loved hearing the sounds you made as he flicked his tongue towards your clit and as he shoved his tongue into your cunt.

He watched as you got close your high drawing near as he ate you out like a starved man and to Wooyoung he was. He needed to taste your cum against his tongue.

Your moans are getting louder as you draw nearer and he doesn't stop his pace throwing you into an orgasm as your body arched off the bed. You could swear that you saw stars as your eyes rolled back. As you come down Wooyoung is still eating you out and you can't help but whimper from overstimulation and he doesn't seem like he's going to stop but San grabs Wooyoungs hair pulling him off your cunt. Your release and his own spit is dripping from his face and you almost cum again at the sight.

"Don't be greedy." He says to him. Wooyoung whines but nods as San licks from his throat and up all the way to his mouth. He pushes his tongue inside Wooyoungs mouth who whimpers.

San makes out with Wooyoung which is mostly filled with teeth and tongue. You can't help but get worked up again watching as San lifts Wooyoungs head up so he can make out with him better.

San pulls away and looks at you as Wooyoungs eyes are glazed over. "Look at her being so good. Watching us make out and not saying anything like a good girl." San says looking back at Wooyoung who nods and his eyes fall on you again.

"Did so good. Going to fuck her so I can reward you?" San asks and Wooyoung nods biting his lip completely out of it. He takes off his pants and his boxers. He looks at you as San moves away and he kisses your chest once more and intercepts your lips in another kiss and you can't help but moan as you feel him press at your entrance.

He slowly pushes into you making you whine out and lets out a whine of his own as he pushes inch by inch into you.

He bottoms out letting out a breath that he was holding and you whine. He sits there as your cunt squeezes around his cock and he thinks he might cum even before he can fuck you.

"So tight." He mumbles as he slowly fucks into you. His head goes to your neck as you moan and he whimpers out.

You let out moans of Wooyoung as he speeds his thrusts up. "Going to cum." Wooyoung says and he can't help but leave more hickies on your neck making you moan out more.

"Fuck. M-me too Woo." You say and he's at this point losing control and thrusting sloppily into you but you can't care, not when he's breathing heavy into your ear and whispering about how tight you are clenching around him.

Before you know it you're thrown into another orgasm. You go limp against Wooyoung as little black dots cloud your vision.

As you come down once again Wooyoung is still fucking into you chasing his own orgasm and you whimper overstimulated once again but San comes up to you and runs a hand through your hair. "Come on just a little bit longer. Wooyoung was such a good boy doesn't he deserve to cum too." San says and you nod.

"Going to cum. Fuck please let me cum inside you. I'm a good boy I promise. I've been so good havent I? Please let me." He pleads with you.

San runs a hand along Wooyoungs back and he whines. "Going to let him get you pregnant? Want a baby with Woo? He was such a good boy. Don't you want to show him how good he was?" San says and you nod. Those words had you going crazy and you can't help but agree. You were on birth control and Wooyoung felt too good in you to not let him.

"Please Woo." Comes out of your mouth and with your permission Wooyoung cums inside you painting your insides with his cum.

He lets out deep breaths as he tries steadying his breathing. He lays against you for a little bit in a slight daze pulling out of you but feels San behind him lining up. "Did so good fucking our pretty baby. Want your reward now?" San asks his boyfriend who whines and nods desperately. San grabs some of your release and Wooyoungs using it as lube around his cock.

San presses inside Wooyoung who whimpers and San lets out a moan. Wooyoung can't even keep his body up as San starts fucking him. His front half comes against you as he drools over your body. It was such a sight to see as Wooyoung is pretty much fucked out and letting San use him as he wants.

"You can fuck our baby one more time right? Fucking her full as I fuck you full of my cum?" San says to Wooyoung who hears that and finds some kind of energy and pushes inside you but he doesn't have the strength to fuck you as he did earlier. It's mostly San pushing inside him that shoves him inside you. Yet it was still good causing you to let out moans along with San and Wooyoung.

Wooyoung though is pretty much fucked dumb at this point and you were at that point too. "Going to cum inside you." San says to the boy under him and he has no reply letting San do the work for both him and you.

One of Sans sharp thrusts has Wooyoungs eyes rolling back and cumming inside you again and you cum along with him. You think you might pass out but luckily you don't and you watch as San cums inside Wooyoung.

He stays there for a minute or two catching his breath. He pulls out of Wooyoung as Wooyoung lets out a whine. You make grabby hands for San and he lets you hold his hand as Wooyoung lays against your chest.

"I need to get a bath ready for us. We're all sticky and we need to get cleaned baby." He says and you reluctantly let go of him letting him go to the bathroom and turn the water on. He comes back out and grabs clothes from your shared drawers.

Wooyoungs eyes are closed and you wonder if he ended up passing out. San comes back in and he looks at Wooyoung. San grabs Wooyoungs hips. "Come on Woo. You got to get out of her so I can get you guys cleaned up." Wooyoung lets out a whine but he slowly pushes out of you.

"Come here." San says grabbing Wooyoung who had laid back down on your chest. He lifts Wooyoung and puts his arms under him taking him to the bathtub.

Your eyes are barely open and it could've been seconds or minutes but San comes back in and gently lifts you into his arms. He steps into the tub with you and places you down. You're more aware of your surroundings but Wooyoung isn't so you move so San can grab Wooyoung and place him in his lap.

"Did so good." San says washing Wooyoung off who lets San move him however he likes so he can wash him. You lay your head against his shoulder and he smiles at you.

"You did so good too." San says softly. You snuggle into his side some more as he finishes cleaning Wooyoung.

"Know you weren't expecting to get cummed inside." He tells you and you nod as he brings you in front of him so he can wash you off too.

"Woo was telling me a few weeks ago about how he liked the idea of getting you pregnant and so I knew you were on birth control but just in case I went and bought some plan b." San says washing you off and you nod once again.

San washes quickly and gets out of the tub first. He wraps a towel around you placing you on the counter and you lean back as San helps Wooyoung who is still out of it out of the tub. Wooyoung falls into him and luckily San still had his hands on his hips.

You watch as San drys him off. You get off the counter hoping your feet are stable so you can help San with your boyfriend. You don't fall but your legs are a little wobbly. You grab the hoodie San had sitting for him and San lifts Wooyoungs arms so you can place it over him.

You grab the boxers and the sweatpants that San had placed and some way without falling successfully put on him.

"Think you can hold him for a little bit while I get changed fast?" San asks you and you nod. You grab Wooyoung from San and he leans against you and with the little energy you have left hold onto him. San quickly throws his clothes on and takes him from you.

"Thank you Sweetheart." San says to you as he picks up Wooyoung and takes him to the room placing him on the bed.

You had no energy left as you leaned against the counter to keep you up. San comes back in and quickly grabs you noticing your body giving out on you now. "I'm here baby." He says as you fall against him.

"Lets get you changed and I'll order food. How does that sound?" He says and you nod in his arms.

"Good. Do you think you can lean on me while I put your clothes on?" He says and you nod.

He puts your clothes on you and picks you up. "Did so good for me and Woo." He says placing you into the bed upright.

"Here. This is the plan b tilt your head back." He says as he places it in your mouth and grabs the water bottle that he had placed there and you do as he says. You gulp the water and pill down. He places you under the blankets.

"Good girl." He says grabbing his phone from the nightstand. He looks up the phone number for the nearest takeout place and steps out the room.

You turn on your side looking at Wooyoung. He opens his eyes slightly and he's met with you. "How are you feeling?" You ask him and he blinks once again.

"Tired." He says and you nod. You move his hair from his forehead and he grabs you pulling you into the hoodie that was currently covering him.

"I love you." He says placing a hand on your face and you smile at him.

"Love you more Woo." You say back and he smiles.

San walks back into the room. "Good you're awake." San says coming to the bed climbing in behind you.

"Yeah no thanks to you." Wooyoung says and San laughs.

"Sorry about that love." San says and Wooyoung smiles at him tiredly.

"It's okay." Wooyoung says as San reaches over intertwining their fingers.

You flip around looking at San who smiles at you. You look at the marks on his face and you can't help but bring your fingers to them. Barely touching them you run a finger over it. "Why are you staring at me like that?" San asks you and you raise an eyebrow at him.

"Like what?" You reply back hand still on his face.

"Like I'm your everything." San says to you and you smile.

"Because you and Wooyoung are my everything." You tell him and he smiles.

"You and Wooyoung are also my everything." He tells you.

"You and San are also my everything." Wooyoung says sleepily and kisses your shoulder.

"I'm going to marry you both one day. We're going to have a big wedding you know." You and Wooyoung hum in agreement at Sans words.

"Me and Y/N are also going to get married." Wooyoung says to you.

You smile at both boys words knowing you'd love to marry both of them. As San continues talking about your futures together you slowly drift off dreaming about everything he says.

#ateez smut #atz smut #atz san smut #ateez san smut #ateez wooyoung smut #atz wooyoung smut #poly ateez x reader #poly ateez

[heart2beom]

totally unlabeled kisses

➞ pairing: best friend!beomgyu x f!reader

➞ synopsis: in which you and beomgyu teeter between being normal best friends and well...best friends who makeout from time to time.

➞ genre: fluff, comedy, b2l

➞ notes: i just realized how much im going to exhaust this trope on the blog, with the event + my other big fic...oooh, there's going to be some repetition here. by the time i'm done, won't be able to write anything b2l related. request + request.

taglist: @boba-beom , 700 event masterlist!

Questions you've grown to be annoyingly accustomed to at some point in your life: "What college are you going to?" — that one was a pain for a few months, "When are you getting married?" — this one’s going to be a pain for a few decades, "Is it that time of the month again?" — you sorta learn to filter this question out of your head.

Questions you haven't built tolerance for: "Are you guys together?"

It's ten times more aggravating when it’s always, always about the same person. Y'know, none other than the annoying, but to his credit, somewhat funny, and sorta loveable goofball that is Choi Beomgyu.

Each time, you'd say a similarly repetitive response: "No, we're just friends." Which is exactly what it was. Beomgyu is your best friend. Has been your best friend— for, like, forever.

Starting right from the torturous tween stage that was middle school, to now, it's the question that followed you both to the hells of earth. The era of awkward bowlcuts and invisaligns that fooled no one have been long behind you, yet it seemed that the theory you and Beomgyu were secretly together never passed. Ever.

Sure, you get it, it's the childhood friends to marriage descend that gets everyone swooning, but that was totally not you and Beomgyu.

Even after what happened two months ago. You decided to lean a little too close that day, and somehow, your lips captured his, at a house party, in god knows whose closet. You’re not sure why you went for it—you liked to blame the drinking game you played a little before this, or the darkness of the closet, or the way his breathing was magnified to your ears, how it synced with yours. You don’t even remember how you got in the closet with him.

What you do remember is how the kiss was a little hesitant and trying, tongue testing the waters before Beomgyu decided on his own to tilt his head at an angle, turning the chaste kiss into a little more. 

You liked it.

You liked how his lips were soft, yet the slight roughness of the kiss had you forgetting it was Choi fucking Beomgyu you had your arms around—the boy you’ve seen pick his boogers more times than you’d like to count. His rather large hands cupped your cheeks, still kissing you like his life depended on it.

You call it the Closet incident. 

…There were lots of repeats of the Closet incident.

On top of a kitchen counter, in front of your flat’s entrance, in the hallway of Beomgyu’s dormitory, on the couch, in a movie theater as your unknowing friends sat a seat in front of you focused on the gore scene, in Beomgyu’s rusted, mario kart that he calls a car. But obviously, no feelings involved. Obviously.

"Can you make me look good this time?"

You scoff incredulously. "I always make you look good."

It’s a Friday and Beomgyu came over to your place to pick you up for your friend dates, like usual. Which consisted of going to the mall, then a trip to the local movie theater, and finally getting your favorite frozen yogurt. His go-to flavor being red velvet, and yours good ol’ chocolate mint. You never hear the end of it from Beomgyu.

"I have something to ask by the way." Beomgyu throws his head back on the couch, staring up at you. He’s situated on the floor, between your legs as you braid his hair. What? It’s therapeutic.

“You know how Heeseung asked you if you were dating anyone yesterday?”

“Turn your head to the left, Gyu.” you mutter, eyes narrowing as you focus on his hair, taking the braiding pretty seriously. “And yeah? What about it?”

He doesn’t budge, arms lazily crossed. “Why’d you tell him no?”

Your fingers stop the braid, blinking a few times down at Beomgyu. “Because…I’m not dating anyone.”

He naively blinks a few times, still staring up at you, before cracking a weirdly conflicted smile, as if he got to his senses. Then he turns his head to the left like you asked him to earlier, “Oh, yeah, I mean… yeah.”

You manage to give him a quick smile back, albeit a little stiff, as you refocus your attention on his hair again. But it’s near damn impossible, thoughts as to what Beomgyu was trying to imply clouding your head too much for proper focus.

What’d he want you to say? You weren’t dating anyone, Beomgyu knew, you knew, everyone knew. But he was still confused in those three seconds, as if that wasn’t true. And that had your head in a jumble. 

It wasn’t like this was the only thing he’s done or said that had you questioning what he felt about you was a little more than platonic. 

Like, yesterday as an example, when Beomgyu showed up by your side, presumably out of nowhere, a hand wrapped around your waist when Heeseung approached you.

Or the time you were playing truth or dare and Taehyun asked him if he liked anyone that was in the room, and you swear he found your eyes for a few seconds before smiling and downing his drink— choosing to leave the question unanswered, the rest groaning of how he was no fun.

You’re reading too much into things…right? 

It’s all you’ve been thinking about at the time of your slumber. And it made the occasional, random makeout sessions that much more impactful. Your finger lingering on your lip, starstruck after just a single peck from Beomgyu, as if you were a middle schooler who just got her first kiss.

“What do you think?”

He looks at himself through his phone’s camera at every possible angle, a genuine smile creeping up his face, “It’s so cute, I love it.” When he practically jumps on you, you fall to a laying position, and laugh. He resembled a puppy. “I told you you should be a hairstylist.”

The proximity of his face near yours doesn’t faze you—or you at least hope it looks like that. You quirk a brow, “Since when?”

He taps his index finger on his temple, “Telepathy. I tell you everyday through telepathy.”

Surprisingly, that gets you to snort, broken completely out of your previous reverie— he was ridiculous. 

“I like it so much I want to kiss you.”

He’s quick to follow through, landing a silly peck on your lips. You know it didn’t even look that good, but he still managed to make you feel like you gave him the hairstyle of the century. Which had no business making your heartbeat just a tinge faster. Oh, it’s bad for you.

You adjust your position by attempting to sit up straight. He catches that, a confused smile as he gets off you. You purse your lips, the awkward silence not a bother as you think of ways you could put all your confusion the past few weeks into one simple sentence. 

“Beomgyu, do you… like me?”

You can tell that by the sudden question, he’s taken back, the corner of his lips falling. Before he does his habit again, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck, a hesitant grin plastered on his face. “I mean, isn’t it a little obvious?”

You furrow your brows. “Uh no, no it wasn’t …obvious!” It wasn’t! Beomgyu was naturally a romantic, how would you catch that he was serious?

He raises his brows. “What, did you think I kissed you all these times because I was doing it for the shits and giggles?”

You think over it for a second. “…Let’s be real, you did have a lot of fun shoving your tongue down my throat in public.”

“Busted.” he puts up his hands as mock retreat, then sighs, “But for reason. This isn’t how I thought this…would go. But, yeah…I do like you. In the gross romantic way. Maybe L-word you too. I don’t know, I just know that my heart dumbly wholeheartedly believes that you’re my soulmate. For whatever reason.”

You feel your mouth dry, looking up at Beomgyu, your movement still. “Since when?”

Beomgyu chews down on his bottom lip, hesitating before he quietly says, “Since you got me the cookie and cream ice cream sandwich as an apology for saying my ex-girlfriend was butt ugly.”

It’s so comically specific yet it’s still funny how you immediately say, “Seventh grade.” Because you also remember, you very clearly remember the day Beomgyu had bawled his eyes out, because he just got dumped, and your attempt of trying to comfort him by saying he had awful taste. Turns out, people don’t like being told that their ex wasn’t good looking fresh out of the relationship. 

The fury you felt at the sight of seeing Beomgyu so sad could’ve been explained by just the fact that you were extremely close friends, but you’re now left wondering if you also liked him a little back then.

“I like you too.”

Beomgyu huffs out a laugh through his nose, shaking his head, “You don’t have to say that just because I said it. I don’t cry over rejections anymore.” 

Your eyes wander down to his lips for a split second. Then to the man in front of you, his loose fitted signature flannel so…Beomgyu. His quirky styled hair, so fitting on him. No matter how much he matured, his features undeniably handsome, he was still the boy you proudly call a best friend. Your best friend. “No, I like you. In the gross romantic way.”

You’re more sure now in comparison to seven years ago. 

He falls silent, staring at you before he lets out a quiet, “Oh.”

You sit there, playing with your hands as you wait for Beomgyu to say something a little more than that. You’re not sure what’s going through his head, you often feel like, even after knowing him for so long, you don’t know what happens in there. At all.

You’re caught off guard when you feel Beomgyu’s familiar lips on yours, but quickly linger against them, letting him take a hold of you, as he was above you again. 

You feel his smile break into the kiss and you stop for a moment. "Are we a couple now?" he asks, barely a whisper. You nod.

"We swore to everyone this would never happen." You swore to yourself that you didn’t like Beomgyu ‘like that’. Always so sure, so sure that he was nothing but a friend. 

Everyone saw it but you. How idiotic did you look?

"Exactly. We're never going to hear the end of it. But..."

"But... it's worth it?" you finish his sentence.

You like the way his eyes glint under the dim light of your living room. You like the curve of the ends of his lips, the way they create the cutest, most adorable whisker dimples. He lays his forehead on yours. "Like, thirty thousand times worth it."

"People usually say a million..." you tease with a tilt of your head.

His breath fans against your skin before smiling and leaning his head in for another kiss. He catches you by surprise again, but this time you’re a little more prepared, your arms quickly finding their way, hanging off your freshly new boyfriend slash best friend for life’s shoulder. But then he pulls away.

Way too fast. "That was to shut you up for being a smartass." You're slightly left out of breath, your chest softly rising and falling as you look at him confused.

“And this…” He kisses the tip of your nose, “Is for not turning down Heeseung yesterday and making me stupidly, ridiculously sulky."

You catch onto what he’s doing, giggling, but still ask "What are you doing, idiot?" 

He doesn't stop, still as smiley as ever. He kisses the temple of your cheek, "This is for all the years I've chased after your oblivious ass."

Your other cheek, "This is for…”

Suddenly, he peppers kisses all over your face and your giggles turn into full on laughter the more he kisses all over your skin— it's ticklish. When he stops and it's silent you feel the energy shift. You ask the pending question with a whisper, "And what was that for?"

Silence overtakes him as he stares down at you, a faint smile on his face.

"For all the decades I'll spend loving you."

notes: reblogging [the little sign by the heart button] helps push this fic! it's the main thing that helps me out and its what tumblr's algorithm picks up on!! thoughts are appreciated, always ^^ ❤

#txt fanfic #beomgyu fic #beomgyu fanfic #beomgyu scenarios #beomgyu imagines #beomgyu drabbles #beomgyu fluff #beomgyu x reader #txt fic #txt scenarios #txt imagines #txt fluff #txt drabbles #txt x reader #txt series

[almondmilktargaryen]

Duty & Sacrifice (Part Two)

Summary: Aemond is married with two kids to Floris Baratheon, as it was his duty. But it's when he ventures into Flea Bottom in the night that he faces his sacrifices.

Couple: Aemond Targaryen/Fem!Reader

Category: Flangst

Content: Memories of sexual trauma. Violence, violence, violence. Trying to refrain from spoilers but the degree of violence is referenced in part one, so please take this vague warning seriously and be cautious if you still choose to read. Please be kind as I'm very nervous as to how this will be received. Aemond's hubris will be his downfall and I mean it.

Word count: 7.4k

Also on my Ao3

Part one | Part two | Part three ✍️ | Part four ✍️

A/N: Okay, I caved. I’ve written a part two to Duty & Sacrifice AND have a part three on the way (maybe a part four). Tagged everyone who asked about a part two so you all can find it :))

Also we're going to pretend Chataya and Alayaya were around 200 years before they were for the sake of the story ✨

“I can’t fucking believe it,” Criston hisses. The heat of his anger billows from him like smoke from Vhagar’s nostrils. Aemond feels it against his back as they walk (Criston almost stomping) across the cobblestone paths. He wears the same old brown wool cloak and hat as he had when they were last here, before the Dance.

“I know,” Aemond responds plainly.

“I expected this from Aegon. As would anyone. But you, Aemond.” Criston staggers as he lectures. After years of reflection and buckets of blood on his hands, his anger still gets the best of him, even in the smallest of ways. “Honestly, what would your mother say about all this?”

“She’s gone, Cole.” That’s all he can say. She was taken by the winter fever shortly after Aegon’s second coronation and Helaena’s suicide. Aemond suffered plenty in all three areas. Criston saw. And he was there when Aemond still needed a parent; helping him through his losses and the choices his brother made as king. It is why Criston volunteered to help with the City Watch while also remaining on the Kingsguard to help him. He became a father to Aemond.

And fathers asking their children what their mothers might think of their wrongdoings is supposed to add an extra dose of shame. Aemond learns, despite assuming otherwise, that he is not an exception to this. He feels the shame, like whenever his nephews knocked him to the ground and snickered or when Alicent slapped him after confessing what happened at Storm’s End. He remembers how he couldn’t sleep for days.

There was no way he could sleep tonight, either. The possibility that something could happen to his family while he remained safe in the Red Keep is a burden he could not bear after seeing Alyssa. The gods sewed in the inevitable, and it’s his turn to unlace it. So he focuses on his route as Criston lingers behind, keeping up with the sharp turns and secret alleyways. Aemond recalls the moment he left. All three of them were safe. They were in tears on the cot, but they were safe. He let the image settle in his mind. They were safe. Spotting the door once again, he’ll guarantee it. He avoids glancing down the alley, hoping to forget that.

But Criston does glance. “Was that one of Aegon’s—”

“We’re here,” Aemond says. His fingers wrap around the handle, jiggling the iron to find it locked. Good. Then he knocks three times, then two, then one.

“You actually have a special knock?”

“Not important.”

The bolt shifted behind the wood, and the open door bloomed with light once more. Aemond squinted at the starkness, but he could see that she was alright. She was standing, hunching slightly, and smiling. She stepped aside to let them both in. Aemond spotted the girls on the cot, quiet.

She shut the door with a thud. “You came back!”

“Like I said I would,” Aemond replies. He was hesitant to hug her, but she took the choice away when she instantly wrapped her arms around his neck. He took the opportunity and held her gently, burying his nose in her thick hair. It smelled of sweat and dirt, and he inhaled deeply before letting go. “This is Criston Cole. He’s going to help us. It’s cold out, so you’ll need this.” He takes the spare cloak Criston has and asks her to hold her hair.

“I know how to put on a cloak, Aemond.”

He hesitates to object. The cloak matches her eyes. He notices when she turns and takes it from him. She handles it well enough, so Aemond squeezes by to reach the cot. He sits close to the babes’ feet. They were sleeping. All he could do was whisper “sorry” repeatedly as he picked up Alisha first. She only cooed, not fully awake. He stood slowly to hand her over. “Here. Put her under the cloak.”

“What did you think I was going to do?” She asked.

“I know, I know. I just... have to say it aloud.”

Then came Alyssa. She only squirmed as he picked her up, and Aemond wondered what she could be dreaming about. He stands straight before covering her. He brushed her ginger hair.

“Do you want to see her?” She holds Alisha closer to Criston. She smiles brightly when she turns Alisha’s face toward him. And despite his objections during the entire walk here, he reaches out to hold her little hand, noting how her fingernails are no bigger than grains of rice. He breaks into a grin when he says hello. His palm brushes her hair, and the grin fades as he looks closer—the transition from brushing the whole of her head to examining individual strands. Aemond does not expect them to be noticed at such a late hour, but Criston’s eyebrows go straight as he stares at him.

Aemond only stared back, bringing the other half of his cloak over Alyssa’s face.

“What’s the plan?”

“To find them safety,” Aemond replies. “A better home.”

“Surely you have a more detailed idea than that.”

“Where are the apartments? The ones where you kept that girl from Lys?”

Criston’s hard expression changed. “What are you talking about?”

Then it was Aemond’s turn to stare in disappointment. The disappointment that Criston thought he would never notice the obvious. Celibacy among the Kingsguard has not been as enforced under Aegon’s reign, and Criston is not the only one to take advantage of this, especially for any woman who looks like Rhaenyra.

“Over by the Old Gate,” he caves. “I arranged the rent and servants with Chataya. Her brothel isn’t far from here.”

“Then we’ll go to Chataya’s. We’ll take the Street of Silk. It should be faster.”

“Aemond.”

“Darling, we don’t have a choice. Here.” Aemond traces the loops of his belt, pulling out a dagger. “Take this.” The ripple of Valyrian steel sheens in his hand.

“I-I can’t.”

“You can and you will.” His face softens. “Just in case I’m not close enough.”

She’s hesitant, but takes it anyway, shoving it in one of the cloak pockets.

Alyssa fusses, as if she’s protesting herself now that she’s fully awake. He’s familiar with this one, and she does not let up when he tries to shush her, so he sticks his free hand inside and searches for her mouth. He gently puts his finger in, letting her tiny lips and hands wrap around it like a bottle.

“She’s hungry,” Aemond reluctantly admits.

“I can feed her. Quickly.”

“No. The faster we move, the better.”

“But I—”

“He’s right, ma’am,” Criston says.

Aemond can see the uneasiness reveal itself once more. It’s the remnants of fear sticking around before he left, as the possibilities outside that door (good or otherwise) are closer than ever. So Aemond stepped closer while her eyes glowed wet in the dwindling candlelight. A kiss, another hug, perhaps, or some sort of reassurance that it would be alright could help. But as his arms cradle Alyssa (and Criston waits when there’s no time), Aemond instead presses his forehead against hers. He keeps his eye on her, and her smile is small. It was good enough.

“Let’s go.”

Men in rags stay close to the walls, under torchlights. Some with their selection of whores, others looking to wait their turn. The streets are less congested by stone walls, so pathways are more open, with no carts or livestock blocking the way. They can all step aside and not disturb each other. 

Her cloak shielded her arms as Alisha fussed more. She stuck close to Aemond as Criston took the lead this time, many paces ahead. Aemond could hear the speed of her breathing and see the fog rolling from her lips.

“Walk with purpose,” Aemond tells her. “Eyes forward. Do not look afraid.”

“Easier said than done.”

“I’m here. Lean on me if you have to.”

“No. It’s not the time to look weak.”

That damned cot. Sleeping, the pregnancy, and birthing twins on that cot took its toll. Her body has grown weak. Her stubbornness, though, remains unmoved. It’s why Aemond never bought her a new bed. She would cunningly lead him to the floor, so they would lose the topic (as well as the night) before they slept.

Her stubbornness persists all the same as her body struggles with the walk, one step to the other as Aemond continues to be their eyes, centering on Criston (and the men who stare too long). The path is straight and simple. But Alisha still whimpers. Her arms shift under the cloth, muffling her upset, a finger in her mouth. But her adamancy follows through mother and daughter. “Why does this work for you and not me?”

Aemond smirks. “Magic touch.”

She scoffed, nudging him. Aemond responded similarly, planting a kiss in her hair in the safety of darkness. The frizz tickled his nose, and for a moment, Aemond felt peace. A rare thing he relished with his mother or his sister. It’s something he hasn’t felt since the Dance. But even on this road and in the cold, it ruminates over his whole body.

But as quick as that peace washed over him like a bath of sacred waters, he got pulled out. He’s reminded of his thirteenth name day when her blue eyes lock onto his. Aemond turns his eye to Criston once again. He didn’t turn around, but Aemond focused, blinking out the memories.

“Found a replacement, have you?” She stands at the entrance to that brothel all the same as before, when Aemond and Criston were looking for Aegon. She leans casually against the doorway as they pass, and the smirk makes Aemond’s stomach turn.

She turns around, but Aemond pulls her by the arm. “Focus.”

“Was she speaking to you?”

“Focus.”

“Oh… Aemond. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” he says with an even breath. He pulls her closer, arm and arm, cloth and cloth. “We’ll get there soon.” Criston is still ahead, and Aemond remembers to breathe.

“Perhaps we should stop.”

“No.” His eye darts at the surrounding men. Most didn’t look at him, and the ones who did offered only a glance. None remember when he was ten and three, despite what his thoughts are saying. The walls are not closing in, and Criston is still well ahead. “We need to catch up.” He pulls her by the arm, and she does her best to keep up.

If it was not the location of Chataya’s that spoke of their expensive price range, it was the perfumes. He recognized the scents of Day’s Dawn and Ginger Palm, authentic from the Summer Isles, along with the smells of cinnamon and nutmeg. Scarlet lamps gave low lighting, but Aemond still kept his head down. He blocked all bodies he noted in the alcove as the lights bled patterns of their shades on the floors and small tables.

“Welcome, sirs,” a woman says. Aemond still keeps his head down.

“Alayaya, hello,” Criston says. “Is your mother around?”

“Always. But I can help you as well.”

“I have a specific request that requires her… connections.”

“There are plenty of specific requests we can and have fulfilled, Ser Cole. Not just my mother.” With her voice alone, Aemond can see her smile: coy and showing teeth, a light accent honeyed with playfulness. All the signs say she doesn’t know this situation is serious.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but we specifically need your mother,” Criston says as he gently puts a hand on Aemond’s shoulder. Aemond forces himself to take a breath before looking up. When he does, he doesn’t let his eye linger out of concern that anyone else in this place would recognize him.

Aemond watches the recollection color her face, her dark eyes widening upon the sight of his. There was no fear in sight, but the realization that she was in over her head (Aemond saw that look a lot during the Dance). She picks at the gold rings in one of her braids as her eyes trail over to her persistently rocking Alisha. Alayaya steps back. “I’ll go get my mother.”

Chataya does not take long to arrive. Aemond spotted the book and quill in her hands before he put his head back down. “I’ll speak with her,” Criston tells Aemond.

“Alright,” he mumbles.

Criston squeezes his shoulder. “I’ll be close by.”

Aemond nods.

She was further away than they were on the street, just an arm’s length away. Alisha whimpers under her cloak, and Aemond cannot afford to spare her a glance, let alone help. Criston isn’t the only one who chooses places like Chataya’s. Non-Westerosi women have a higher price range, which means her customers have likely been in the Red Keep, possibly even invited. Which means they just need to meet his eye once.

It kills him. His stress only heightens when she fiddles with her cloak to find Alisha’s mouth. Nothing. She tries rocking her gently, but she only grows more demanding with each sway. Meanwhile, Alyssa remains quiet somehow, Aemond’s finger still in her mouth, but she stopped suckling minutes ago.

“Gods! Quiet the thing!” Aemond hears from the alcove. The man’s voice is deep in his chest.

“Sorry,” she squeaks. She does what she can, but Alisha does not let up. She’s very hungry.

Aemond sees a woman fall to the floor, just in his limited view. Alayaya helps her up. He sees calf-skin boots come and go out of his sight.

“Lord Baratheon.”

Aemond freezes.

Chataya’s voice is smooth as she remains assertive. “You do not throw my girls around as such.”

“This is not an establishment for children. So she should take the child outside so I can enjoy the experience I paid good money for.”

Alisha is hungry. Aemond thinks about that as he remembers Lord Borros’ funeral after the Battle of the Kingsroad. After that, they acknowledged Royce Baratheon as Lord of Storm’s End. Aemond married his sister two days later.

“Or if you just whip out your tit and feed it, it might—oh.” The gruffness dissipates, and Aemond questions his perspective for a moment. No one is in front of him.

“I remember you.”

“No,” she muttered. “Forgive me, sir. I don’t recognize you.”

“Yes, you do.” Royce drags out the last syllable. It sounded like Baelon insisting on a later bedtime or going hunting with Royce after Aemond and Floris agreed he was too young. Except Royce adds a disgusting singsong tone to it. “Redheads stand out on their own already. With big doe eyes like yours. Baratheons know how to spot that.”

“Sir, please.”

“Lord Baratheon,” Chataya calls.

Aemond has to keep still.

“You remember my cousin. I see it in your eyes. Of course you do. He loved redheads.”

Aemond’s heart pounds in his chest so fast that he’s surprised that Alyssa remains undisturbed. Royce’s voice only grew more heated. He’s drunk. And he’s quick to anger when drunk, remembering Lord Lorren Lannister running into him at the reception. Maesters tended to him while guards carried Royce to bed. Not long after, Floris pulled Aemond aside and asked him to fly to King’s Landing out of sheer embarrassment.

“I wasn’t—”

“But you just couldn’t let him have you, could you? Too good for a Baratheon, are ya?” He curdles a spit and hacks it on her shoes.

Aemond has to stay still. He keeps his palms flat, despite the instinct to clench them. Alisha’s crying continues, and it doesn’t help.

“He followed me to my room. I was not working then.”

“Whores are whores no matter the hour of the day. They bend over when a man tells them to.”

“Only when they pay for it. Your cousin was too frugal for me.”

Aemond didn’t know what would burst first: the vein in his forehead or his lips from the pressure of keeping them closed with his teeth. The desperation to keep his family safe stared him down from all angles. In his mind, he pictures Baelon and Daeron sound asleep. While adjusting to her growing front, he thinks of Floris kissing them goodnight as she stands up. He thinks of something happening to his girls and can feel the fabric of Alyssa’s cloth as he grips her tighter. He thinks of how disappointed his mother would be.

Alyssa fusses. Aemond eases his hold and his teeth.

Alisha wails.

“Is that a hungry bastard of someone who paid?”

“Yes,” Aemond says. He spots her sandals and the reflection of spit already seeping between her toes. Royce is not one to take directions the first time, and Aemond’s instincts smack his meaty fingers away before he’s given the chance to realize he was reaching for her cloak.

Alyssa’s cry leans into a bawl. Aemond’s hand is hesitant to slip back in.

Royce laughs, a small one from the belly. “Oh, I see. It explains the hips she’s got on her now. But if this doting father has his hands full with another bastard, then what will he do to stop me?”

“Then I will be the one you deal with instead.” Criston steps in front of Aemond. “Man on man. Sword and sword.”

“Ser Criston.” The joy depleted from his voice. Normally, Aemond would enjoy it, but Criston is the Kingsguard, the City Watch, part of the royal family. “The king requires escorts of many kinds, huh?”

“If the king or any member of the Targaryen family were here right now, you would bow accordingly. As is your place as a lord and as a Green.”

“My father would spit on the Greens if he were alive today. My youngest nephew doesn’t get to see his future land of Storm’s End because his pompous Targaryen father thinks he’s better than us. He’d rather both of them fly their winged beasts than hunt for game in the woods.”

Criston was silent for a long time. And for a moment, it was strange to find Royce was as well. He didn’t even digest Royce’s insult because Aemond couldn’t believe Criston was using one of his parenting tactics: letting the boy sit in silence with his own words so he could feel the weight of them. The longer they are quiet, the more they understand thinking before speaking.

“If you wish to keep your tongue, Lord Royce, you will keep it safe in your mouth by not speaking further insults about your brother-by-law.”

“Ma’am, sir, you can come with me!” Alayaya calls. “You can feed the babes back here.”

No one moves for what feels like hours, but Aemond follows her out, still looking straight at the floor and hoping to the gods there were no stairs. The gods blessed him as he passed through a beaded curtain Alayaya held open for them. They paused in place and let her lead the way. There were only a few paces before they stopped, Aemond nearly clashing Alyssa into her mother.

“You can look up, my prince,” she whispers. “No one will see you here.”

Aemond hesitates to do so, but the aching in his neck was tempting enough to believe her—a narrow hallway lined with crimson doors and elaborately patterned tapestries crowding corners and windows. Aemond looks back to see the beaded curtain Alayaya held for him, still clicking against itself before stilling, finding no one in his line of sight. No Criston either.

Alayaya pulls out a dull brass skeleton key that matches the door handle. She twists it, and a bolt shifts on the other side. She holds the door once again, waiting patiently for them to enter and settle in. Except this time, they don’t move. It is as if, in silence, without a single glance toward each other, they waited for something else to happen, as if Royce (or someone else) was about to stampede in and finally ruin everything.

But no one does; no one enters or leaves the hallway. A body does not enter or exit any of the surrounding doors. There are no people for Aemond to stare down at as they pass; there is no one here to remember when he was ten and three.

They found more tapestries and scarlet lamps in the bedroom. They also noticed a silk bed that looked untouched, with plenty of pillows that matched the sheets resting against the headboard. Neither of them said anything. Aemond looks back at Alayaya.

“I’ll tell Ser Criston where you are,” she says while looking at Aemond. Then she turns to her. Aemond follows. “You are safe here, ma’am.”

All she can do is nod. It’s good enough since Alayaya shuts the door. And it’s at the sound of the lock sliding into place that they deflate, a long-awaited exhale finally escaping their lungs. They release their arms from under their cloaks to place the babes at the foot of the bed, rolling out their shoulders and stretching their backs.

Then, after a moment of rest, they look at each other. They wasted no time closing the gap, wrapping each other in an embrace. Nothing sensual like this place would inspire, nothing romantic or yearning. Only love. The desperation to hold her was overwhelming, as it was proof that she was still here, present, alive, and safe. Aemond puts one hand atop her tangled curls and the other at her back, gripping her tighter and tighter like he expected her to become glued to his skin. He knows she can hear how incessant his heartbeat is, his ribs barely a cage enough to contain it. Aemond inhales the sweat and dirt, eye closed.

“You were scared too?” Her palms were flat around his waist and shoulder.

“Of course I was,” he admits. It was a simple thing to admit to her. “But you handled yourself so well.”

“He recognized me so fast.”

“And you handled yourself so well, darling.” He pushes the curls that cover her forehead back to kiss her on the skin, hot from stress. “You stood up for yourself, and I’m so proud of you.”

Aemond is present enough to let his heart calm. And once he feels the steady decline, he moves his hands but doesn’t let her go. Instead, he holds her face, kissing her forehead again, then her cheeks, then her lips. He brushes the tops of her hair back as he looks into her eyes. “I love you,” he tells her. “Don’t ever forget that.”

Her smile was small, yet such a wash of relief at the sight alone. The smile of contentment. “I love you too,” she tells him, and it’s a warmth that spreads through him like tea. And he looked at her for a long time. The mother of his daughters, a woman he never thought could love him the way he needed.

Her hands soon travel from his back to his wrists as she keeps her gaze on him. “I need to feed the girls.”

Aemond nods. “I’ll help you.”

“You should rest while you can, Aemond.”

“I’ll rest when you do.”

She does not argue further. She settled with Aemond helping her remove her cloak. He saw the way she was still shivering, but reminded himself that they were almost there. He doesn’t mention it. She instead settles on the bed, only wearing the dirty white cotton nightgown she often wore. It was the only one that had a stretchable collar. It was easier than getting undressed just to breastfeed the babes. She shimmies one sleeve down before bringing Alisha back into her arms. Aemond knows her breasts are still swollen with milk, and she has been in pain since the girls made their hunger known. Luckily, it doesn’t take long for her to latch, and she eats away.

Aemond keeps one palm on Alyssa in the swaddle as he watches. He moves her hair away from her chest, avoiding any mess. The copper spirals end at the middle of her back. She never wore it down when he first knew her. She had stringy pieces in her face that were too short to stay in the unkempt braid, which she only unraveled when the money was in her hand.

“What?” She turned to Aemond.

“Your cousin was too frugal for me,” he repeated in her earlier jab.

“Well,” she shrugs, “he was. Whores require payment, simple as that. Even the drunkest fools would toss coins at me when they were done.”

“I didn’t.”

She snorts with a laugh. “You’re a fool, but you’ve never been a drunken one. You paid me just to sit in my room and talk.”

“You intrigued me.” Aemond kissed her cheek. “Is that so bad?”

“It was daunting at first. You killed your cousin two days prior.”

“He was a cousin by marriage, dear.”

“You know what I mean, then.”

“Well, I didn’t know he was a cousin. It’s not like Royce was around.”

She scoffs lightly before changing her position, trying to sit as upright as she can, like Aemond. “Give me Alyssa,” she tells him.

“We have time. Just take the moment and be with your youngest.”

“Leave it to the youngest to be the most vocal.” She laughs at her joke.

Aemond does too, but he can tell she’s still rattled. “Look at me.” He gently puts his palm around her forearm, gesturing towards his chest, and then up as he inhales, guiding her to do the same. They exhale at the same time once more. “Perfect.”

“Gods, I was so scared.”

“I know. Me too.”

“Do you think your wife knows her brother is in the city?”

“We need to be informed in advance about any visitors to the Red Keep. She was probably waiting to tell me when it was closer to his visit. She knows I don’t care for him.”

“Do you think he recognized you?”

“No. He spat out what he did, but they’re the words of a sober man’s thoughts. Nothing more.”

They remained quiet until Alisha was done. Aemond keeps her hair out of the way as she burps their daughter. There was only minimal spit up—nothing a towelette couldn’t solve. He took the same towelette to wipe between her toes. They then switched out the twins quickly. She pulls the other sleeve down, and Alyssa latches while Aemond swaddles Alisha back up. It’s easy to remember: fold under the arms, across the chest, tuck behind the back, take the bottom, and meet the back. It’s effortless after four kids. Aemond holds her close, watching her eyelids grow heavy from the delightful consequences of a full stomach.

After a moment, he scoots closer to her, looking just over her shoulder as Alyssa eats. Her lids are becoming lazy as well, but Aemond can just make out her purple eye. The right one, just like his. It was something he once saw as a sense of pride. He felt the rush when he held Baelon, clean from the afterbirth, and nothing but a squishy being of joy. Daeron too. With his girl, his oldest girl, it was impossible to sit with that same storm in his blood without being reminded of the tragedies to come. The potential tragedies to come. It is why they’re here—to stop all potential tragedies from destroying his family.

She burps Alyssa. Spit up, as expected. It was more than Alisha, but Aemond wiped it up without hesitation. He dabbed her little plush lips for good measure, smiling at his baby. He swore he saw them curl.

Criston knocked at the door. Aemond knew because he copied his knock: three, two, then one. Aemond still gets up carefully as she watches him. Meanwhile, Alisha is out cold—not a peep. Aemond still keeps her out of view, cracking the door to just see half of Criston’s face. He doesn’t find any bruises, cuts, or a spot of blood anywhere on his clothes. Not even a wave of his hair was out of place. But the bulb in his throat bobs, something he remembers from the Dance. The audible dry swallow was never a good sign. “Royce is gone.”

“Gone where?”

“I don’t know. He left just now.”

“We should leave.”

“Yes.”

They nod to each other before Aemond shuts the door. He looks over at her, and she’s already trying to bring her nightgown back over her chest and shoulders, frantic as Alyssa falls asleep.

“It’s alright. It’s alright.” Aemond crouches down, pulling gently at the sleeve with one hand and pulling it over her breast.

“We have to go,” she said.

“Yes, but let me help. Breathe. And hold her. Be with your daughter.”

She inhales, pauses, and exhales on her own as Aemond pulls up the other sleeve. She brushes Alyssa’s cheek, cooing and kissing the air softly. Aemond drank in the sight as he brought the neckline closer to her clavicle. Then he took her cloak, leaning on the bed, and wrapped it around her until it met in the middle. She shook out her hair as she clasped the cloak shut. Aemond then hides Alisha again as Criston knocks with the same pattern, politely urging them to hurry.

Criston leads them further down the hallway. “Alayaya is waiting for us in the back.” The three hurried down the hall, nearly hand in hand with how close they were. Aemond’s heart raced in rhythm with their hectic footsteps. The narrow halls felt like an endless stretch as he waited for a single door to burst open and finally catch them. With every corner turned, that similar surge came back in full swing, his grip only tightening on Alisha as they rushed to the exit.

Then he spotted Alayaya over Criston’s shoulder, her hand firmly on the knob. She was ready to free them like frantic animals, but she stopped Criston with a polite palm to the chest first. “This leads to an alleyway. Go right, then left out of it. Follow the street until you reach the Old Gate. Make your way across the path, and the building will be on the corner. The top floor.”

As she opens the door, they all nod, and then they feel their feet touch an evenly paved cobblestone as darkness engulfs them once again. Silhouettes of ivy cling to the stone walls of looming buildings. Not a person in sight, not a (visible) Targaryen child in sight. Almost there. It was all Aemond could think of. Criston is ahead again, but he looks back. “Come here,” he says to Aemond. He recognizes the tone when he’s overtaxed. Aemond then looks back at her before approaching his side.

Criston pulls out a skeleton key, a similar brass shade to Alayaya’s. “Yours now. Chataya said she would send you the bill at the end of the month.”

Aemond takes the key, shoving it in his cloak pocket. His dry throat swallows as he feels the heaviness in the air—the shame. His mother’s shame Aemond could outrun for as long as he still breathed. The gods were kind enough to give them time together after the war and cruel enough to take her so soon after he found Helaena on the spikes. The idea  of Criston’s shame lingering in his eyes during every small council meeting, every year on any of his children’s name days, every glance in his direction was something he couldn’t tolerate. He did not want to lose more family.

“Thank you for this,” he eventually said. “It means a lot. Truly.”

Criston looks at him, but only briefly. “Don’t mention it.”

“I should, though. You went out of your way for me again. I am grateful for that... beyond words.”

Criston turns back to Aemond. His dark eyes, even in the starless night, softened quickly. “It’s my job to go out of my way for you.”

Aemond’s mouth twitches.

“I know you know what I mean.”

He gazes down at the hidden (finally asleep) mass in his arms. He knows.

“Aemond!”

His instinct takes over again, and he doesn’t remember turning around just as he doesn’t hear Criston draw his sword. His eye rests on the blade against her throat. Royce. Aemond makes out the Baratheon sigil on his chest as she struggles against his hold on her waist, despite not making any difference.

Aemond, however, cannot move. Not because he’s frozen with indecision, but because of the realization that there is no move that isn’t obvious. He is just in need to kill as he needs to protect Alisha. He cannot simply pass her off to Criston. Not even if his hands were free; they are too far away to make any difference. Royce could slice them both before Aemond would even be in reach.

So he is still by force and keeps his eye on her. She’s as fierce as she is terrified.

Royce’s face, however, is puffy from too much ale. And his beard glistens with grease. He chuckles. “So this is what you’re doing when you’re not making heirs with my sister, huh? We went to war—my father died—so you could make your own bastards with a Flea Bottom whore?”

“You will let them go,” Criston orders.

“Targaryen bastards line plenty of alleyways. Give me one good reason I shouldn’t slaughter this one in her arms and bring it to my sister. Have the entire city on the hunt for Prince Aemond Targaryen’s hidden bastard.”

“Royce,” Aemond says through his teeth. “Don’t.”

“Oh. You care about these. The prince I rode with in the Riverlands, he didn’t care for the bastards he slaughtered. He made them dragon dinner.”

“And I will slaughter you before feeding you to Vhagar all the same.”

Royce laughs. “If you cared for your brother’s kingdom at all, you’d drop the babe and hope the stone splits her head open.”

Aemond only holds Alisha tighter. She whimpers as she wakes up.

“I guess we have different priorities.” Then Royce moves the blade from her neck and shoves her into the wall, her back colliding with the stone. She yelped as she landed on the ground. Royce then snatches Alyssa from her hold before she can grip her tighter.

Alyssa whimpers with Alisha as she hangs in the air. Her weight dropped in the swaddle, but she didn’t fall. Her whimpers morphed into panic. His purple tint in her eye gleamed even in the minimal light, and he didn’t know if he could keep his eye open as he watched her kick her little feet in the cocoon, completely helpless.

Then the metal of Royce’s blade came into his sight. “She has your... eye.”

Alyssa was quiet because her mother’s screams pierced Aemond’s ears like blades themselves, digging into the canals. It’s all that forces him to look away from the aftermath, a word that was so easy to use when speaking about a mass of dead soldiers. Dead villagers and dead bastards as well. But seeing Alyssa on the ground, inky liquid pooling around her, it makes everything move slowly. Royce was even slower to stop her from digging Aemond’s dagger into his calf. Royce collapses, and the dagger ascends his body, cutting up his skin and fat like she was climbing a mountain, until Royce gurgles, desperate to keep speaking as his body convulses. When she is on top of him, she digs the blade into his chest. Repeatedly. Until only the hilt is visible

Aemond stays still, watching the twitching in Royce’s ankles. Criston is in his peripheral, his blade sheathed again. It’s her wailing and her rapid breaths in the dark that snap him into motion.

He hands Alisha off to Criston, double-checking that she is secure in his arms as she cries to herself. Aemond scrambles to her, nearly tripping over his own feet as he slides to the ground. His knees are wet as they press into the stone, and he can’t think about who it might be. Aemond finds his blade in the dark and slips it back into one of his belt loops.

Aemond’s throat is tight as he feels around for her, finding her back and the crooks of her knees. But there were small fists pounding against his shoulders and chest as she strained her voice.

“It’s just me,” he says.

“No!”

“Can you walk?”

“No!” She continues beating on his chest. “No, no! Where’s Alyssa? I want to see Alyssa!”

Aemond doesn’t listen, eventually feeling around (and finding more blood drenching her nightgown) until he finds her legs. He pulls her up as he attempts to stand on his own; the realization taking hold as she writhes against him.

“I want my baby!”

Aemond ignores her, spotting Criston and bolting past him before he says anything. He knows where to go just as well as Aemond. From the alleyway, he remembers to exit left. He keeps the image of the Old Gate in his mind as he charges.

The lavishness of the apartment was reminiscent of Chataya’s, with multiple rooms, silks, and warm colors throughout on top of the beautiful view of the city. The same scarlet lamps reflect on the stone floor, almost hiding the blood staining the entryway. Servants lined the archway into the first sitting room. That was until Aemond ordered them out, as they both collapsed to the ground upon unlocking the door.

Aemond’s lungs burned, like dry heat in his chest, as he heaved. When he eventually tried to stand (with great pain), he tried picking her up as well. She smacked his hand away. He understood. He deserved it. She did her best to get up on her own. And though Aemond could hear the struggle in (what remained) of her voice, he didn’t interfere. It was not his place. He stood against the nearest wall like the servants did moments ago. Except that his body lost all posture and royal propriety. He could barely feel his legs, let alone any sign of a heartbeat in his chest. As she stands, snotty inhales as she sees the blood across her body, red and shining even in the dim light. It nearly brings her back down.

That was nearly the case until her eyes locked on Aemond. He watched the surge pulse through her body as she brought herself to her feet with ease. Aemond doesn’t resist when she stomps across the floor toward him. The rage is in her eyes—a fire he never thought would burn so instantly inside her.

And it was his fault.

Her fists collide with the bones in his chest, some catching strands of his hair and yanking them out as she only screams in his face. Aemond doesn’t stop her. It doesn’t hurt. He can’t feel anything.

“I’m sorry,” he eventually says. A single tear streaks down his face. It was cooling as it slid down to his chin, following another. “I’m so sorry, darling.”

“I said you couldn’t do it!” She kept beating him as he remained still. “But you wouldn’t listen to me! If you left us in Flea Bottom, where we were fine, if you weren’t so fucking stubborn, I’d still have my babes!” The last word snapped her back as she looked around. “Where’s Alisha?”

“With Cole.”

“Where is he?” Her eyes flare.

“He’s following us.”

“You mean you don’t know!”

“It hasn’t been long.”

She hits him with a blow to the chest that he actually feels, winding him. “It didn’t take long for Alyssa to die either!”

The blood from her hands stains his tunic. Her punches become weaker as she looks back down at her hands. And she turns around before bursting into sobs again. She runs to the nearest back room, away from Aemond. She looks around at each flat surface, like she hoped she simply misplaced the girls. It’s not Royce’s blood that bothers her. She doesn’t have the girls to hold. Not even one of them—something she hasn’t experienced in three months. The whimpers and cracks in her voice are all that carry when Aemond can’t see her anymore.

Aemond returns to the ground, sliding down the granite wall. He was a pathetic guard for a woman who has every reason to hate him. The numbing stage of his heartbreak will surely pass and descend into the next stage, as will the weighing guilt of his actions. These were his actions. One of his girls died from his mistake. Because he, once again, assumed he was an exception to the rules, to the gods and their wrath.

Three knocks, then two, then one. 

Aemond doesn’t have the strength to stand. “Cole,” he says.

Criston opens the door, heavy wood with creaking metal hinges. He looks around the place, spotting the blood on the floor. His arms are cradling Alisha as he crouches to Aemond’s side. He doesn’t see a fleck of disappointment, only wide-eyed concern. “Are you alright?” He feels around his cloak and tunic for a wound.

Aemond shakes his head. “Not mine,” he says. His eye points to the archway on the other side of the room. “She’s over there.”

Criston looks over, her wails trailing out of the room just loud enough to overhear. He’s gentle when showing him Alisha. “She’s safe,” he says. “I only just got her to calm down.”

Aemond’s chest shutters, as though his ribs had finally given in and dissolved inside him. She matched her mother’s big eyes; the whites of them were pink, and her cheeks were red with grief. Aemond is hesitant to touch her, not just because of the blood drying on his fingertips, but also because of the fear of damning his only living daughter with his touch alone. He looked at Alisha as if he were suddenly the Stranger embodied, like one fingertip to her soft ginger hair would eliminate his purpose in doing all of this and destroy any sense of Targaryen exceptionalism he thought he possessed.

He hesitates but forces himself to reach out and touch her, as it may be the last time he’s ever given the chance. There’s a part of him that feels filled (if not partially) when she looks at him, recognizing him as a remedy for his pain and not the cause yet. He brushes the flesh on her cheek before letting his head fall back against the granite. “She needs her more. Go.”

Criston hesitates to leave. “You’re sure?”

“Yes. Go.”

“I’ll be back.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Aemond watches Criston disappear behind the curtains lining the archway, and his eye rests on the ceiling. He looked up like he was looking at the gods in the sept, the grand marble statues that surrounded him when he prayed. Helaena and Jaehaerys’ ashes in the sept came to mind, resting in silence after she screamed and held his headless nephew. The sound was no different from the mother of his children just in the next room, the sound of her heart shattering in front of him—a pain he didn’t have the strength to voice in himself. He didn’t think his heart could break the way it did upon seeing his corpse, wrapped in gilded cloth, like he was only in a deep sleep. He thought about the pieces of Arrax falling from the clouds at Storm’s End, with no sign of Lucerys’ body in the mix. All of them, his fault.

There’s no world where the gods would allow all of Aemond’s children to live when he helped kill two others because of his stupidity. His stupidity bested him again by making him think otherwise.

Criston came back. Alisha wasn’t in his arms, but a bucket and a rag hung off of him. He sets them close to Aemond as he gets comfortable on the floor, inches away. Criston dips the rag into the bucket, wringing out the excess water before taking it to Aemond’s cloak and chest. He doesn’t speak a word as he pushes Aemond’s long hair to his back, preventing any curling.

Aemond’s voice is weak. “Why are you doing this, Cole?”

“We need to clean you up,” he says.

Aemond takes a gentle hold of his arm and pushes him away. “She needs this more than me. Save the water for her.”

“There’s plenty left.”

“Why for me, then?”

Criston sighs. “It’s late in the night, Aemond. The hour? I’m not sure.”

Aemond doesn’t understand.

“Your wife is likely expecting you.”

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[iznsfw]

Drunken

Loossemble's Son Hyeju x Male Reader Smut

19,012 words

Categories | cheating, longtimecrush!Hyeju, mutual feelings, drunk sex, daddy kink (and daddy issues), fingering, squirting, titfucking, anal, choking

Thank you for commissioning! Researched for the fic, ended up falling in love with Son Hyeju. Please give this a chance and read this for the story, too, and not only the smut. I indulged too much in this.

The relationship Hyeju and OC have is very much inspired by the one Cassy and Rob have in In the Woods by Tana French. Read it, please. Was amazing. The story was also written with someone I'm currently so in love with in mind, but we're not going to talk about that here.

And no, there's never enough daddy kink stories :P

“This is not fair,” the two of you say the very second you step into your shared dorm.

Two papers in two hands of two people that show two scores that aren’t up to par for the two’s standards. You and Hyeju were always meant to be a dynamic duo: peas in a pod in every way possible, and that includes academic success and failure. It’s like there’s a kind of telepathic force between you that sends the other down with you, too. It’s too late to try and cut the connection when you’ve known Hyeju all your life, a wish that’s beyond reality for plenty of the boys at Idalso.

The dorm is clean. Mostly. You’ve done your best to tidy up the pile of clothes at the end of Hyeju’s bunk bed and she’s done the same for the relatively empty bags of chips you haven’t stopped the habit of laying around, but there’s still the telltale signs that if Hyeju isn’t organized, you aren’t either. Printed drafts of your thesis lay crumpled on the floor. Her posters are minutes away from falling off the poorly painted walls. The air-conditioner doesn’t work as well as it did in your freshman year when your rowdiness outdoors—knocking into each other, trying to race to the door and ending up messing up the other’s clothes that were ironed in a rush—isn’t as compensating.

Today, the rowdiness is lost. It gets translated into rough groans that follow you on the way to the dorms.

That’s when you realize it.

You and Hyeju look at each other. Both of your pairs of eyes widen.

“Miss Ha failed your test?” she asks, normally bored pupils widening in disbelief.

“Miss Ha failed my test.”

“No erasure rule?”

“No erasure rule.”

“Oh my god.”

“Oh my god.”

Ball up the paper and shoot it in the air. It adds to the numerous pieces of parchment on the floor. You kick the rest of them in the air while your roommate slumps on her bed and groans. 

“Fuck this,” you say, hands on your head. There comes the urge to tear all your hair out and leave it at that damned professor’s door, blood and all, to make her at least feel a miniscule bit of remorse for failing you. You didn’t deserve that. You studied and studied and she still had to implement that stupid rule.

Hyeju catches a wrinkled and crumpled paper globe. Her sui generis lips release a soft sigh. “At least we have thesis confetti,” she says sullenly.

“I’m dropping out,” you declare. You’re surprised at how serious you sound. Normally you’d say it just to get a laugh out of yourself, but now you’re actually considering doing it. 

“If you drop out, I’m dropping out, too,” she answers, looking at you spitefully. “And then who’s going to take care of Daniel?”

Think of Daniel. He isn’t your roommate but he’s gotten close with you and Hyeju the past few years. “His inheritance is what’s gonna take care of him. Did you forget he’s rich as shit?”

“Oh, right. How could I forget about him?” 

You start picking up the papers of your drafts faster and knocking them harder into the wall. Why are you doing that? Nope, don’t have an answer to that. There’s a fiery rage inside you that Hyeju’s latest sentence is the arsonist of. 

“The fuck are you doing?” she asks in amusement. There’s a hint of disgust on her face. “Calm down. What’re you, my dad or something?”

“S-sorry.” You know the whole deal she has with her dad. You have to stop—thus, drop the balls of papyrus from your hand. “It was just… I don’t know why I did that.”

Maybe you do. Can’t be about the test though it’s why you started throwing a thesis tantrum.

“Chill out, dude.” She pats your shoulder and gives you a pouty look. “If you want to play strict dad with me: no, I don’t like Daniel. If I did, I would have sat on his lap and said,” she assumes a high voice and flutters her eyelashes at you, leaning on your side, “‘Let me help you with that, darling. I’ll do the dishes, too! Or maybe you want to put a baby in me while I squeeze the soap on your di—’”

“Stoooop!” 

Throw a pillow at her. She dodges it and sticks her tongue out at you. Oh yeah. How could you forget that she plays dodgeball with the friend who’s taken up the topic of your conversation? 

Oh god, shouldn’t have reminded yourself that Hyeju and your other friend hang out. You’re feeling weird again.

“Earth to daddy, Earth to daddy,” she says, snapping her fingers in front of your face. “Li’l shit, what’s gotten into you?”

You’re feeling something again. It creeps into your heart and tugs at its strings, just like how your roommate loves to tie knots in yours and watch you struggle around trying to walk with them. That’s how it felt when she called you that. It’s not the first time she took on a roleplaying banter with you yet that specific title has you hot. 

You need to take a walk. Take a walk to somewhere that doesn’t have you in a place where you could easily pin Son fucking Hyeju to the wall and kiss her till the heat subsides.

-

Walking is your only exercise. You care not for the gyms and weights—why pressure yourself with those when you could just go for a simple walk? An hour is already sufficient enough to burn the breakfast. Only downside is that you get quite hungry afterwards, and though you don’t care for counting calories either, you’re pretty sure the food you have after your strolls is more than the amount you burned.

Actually, you could think of another downside: Hyeju doesn’t join you. She’s a homebody. A couch potato. A living pillow. She prefers to lounge at the dorm and play games instead of going out. She rarely comes along, which is why you’re guaranteed a few hours of isolation.

When you take into consideration that it isn’t isolation if tentative feelings accompany you, you’re partly glad Hyeju didn’t come along.

“Hey, is that you?”

You smile. There he is. You always pass by the apartments this time, and the old man who owns it is one of the few people you’re fond of. Being friends with a landlord wasn’t on your college bingo card, but you’re glad it happened. He’s kind, has white hair that almost matches the color of the spaces he owns, and a mouth that can simultaneously be like that of a sailor’s and a doting grandfather.

“Hi, mister Kim.”

“Hi there yourself,” he chirps. His smile is bright. Can’t say the same about the flickering bulb back in your dorm. “Where’s your girlfriend?”

Red colors your cheeks. “Hyeju’s not my girlfriend.”

“Never said she was.” He winks.

The explosion of scarlet first starts at your ears. He got you. But it isn’t exactly you to blame—everyone likes to push you and your girl best friend together. The old man knows what he’s doing. He just likes to toy around with you. 

“Mister Kim, don’t be like that,” you say. Scratch the back of your neck.

“I’ll be however the hell I want,” he replies, crossing his arms t in a friendly stance. “You two’re always glued to each other.”

“We’re just friends, sir.”

“Just friends my ass. Whenever that girl visits me, she’s always talking about you. It’s like you’re the only thing on her mind.”

That revelation was so out of nowhere, yet you welcome it. You like knowing that Hyeju, the girl you adore, adores you just as much. It’s the mutual feeling of fondness that keeps you breathing. 

“T-that doesn’t mean anything,” you say humbly. You’re somewhat right—just because Hyeju hides the truth that she drones on about you doesn’t mean she has a crush on you. You’ve seen and met her exes, and even back then they’re miles more charming than you.

“Wanna bet?”

“I’m broke—”

“No, no. Not in that way.” He shakes his head. “If you and Hyeju actually end up together, I’m letting you live in one of my apartments for free.”

“Mister Kim—”

“Think about it for your old man, will you?”

With that, he shows you a knowing smile and turns his back. Nothing more is said.

-

Just so it’s clear for everyone who comes across this story of yours: you don’t love Son Hyeju.

Anyone and everyone says the opposite. They treat you and her like famed characters on a popular teen show, pairing you up with each other and tearing off all hesitancy about thinking that they might be going too far. 

But now you’re here to make a stand against those falsehoods: contrary to popular belief, Son Hyeju isn’t the love of your life, and although you’ve been friends for so long people’d expect you walked into kindergarten class with your hand in hers, it’s completely platonic between the two of you.

There are no feelings. No speck of a disgusting yearning in your hearts despite the late night stroll you had to take to stop your wistful thoughts. No sir. Hyeju doesn’t love you that way, and neither do you. It’s simple.

Doesn’t seem that simple when you wake up in the dorm with what’s supposed to be a groan that folds itself back down your throat when you see her curled up in the other bed, blankets splayed and curled around her. No makeup on, except for lip balm she smears around her triangle-shaped mouth when they get chapped. No care for how she looks in the air (doesn’t matter when that’s the way you like it, the way she likes it). She lies there with slumber that could only be induced by an unmerciful college.

You’re glad you have her while you’re battered by the same cause of her sleep.

You try to be silent but her eyes open anyway. Her eyes are squinted, and she kind of looks like an emoticon as she pers around. She doesn’t know when or where she is. Grin because neither do you sometimes, but now that you hold that knowledge, you share it with her.

“Earth to Hyeju, Earth to Hyeju.” Echo her words from last night and resound them back to her.

“Earth?” she groans. “Wake me up when Idalso sends me to Mars.”

Yeah, that’s the Hyeju you know. The Hyeju you love. 

(Huh? Where did that come from?)

“I’ll go with you. Could use miss Jeong not trying to kill me.”

Hyeju runs a hand through her hair groggily and smiles sweetly. “Maybe she should come along and go through with killing you if you don’t stop ‘forgetting’ to pay me that five thousand.”

“Cute. I’ll pay you later, I promise.” Rise to sling the blinds up, letting light five-thirty a.m. sun spill through the squares. “Catch some breakfast at McDonald’s before class?” you offer. She’s your usual companion in the morning—you’d split the bill (because “you’re broke, and I’m broke,” she said, “it’s only fair we try to stop being poor together”) and have a nice opening meal of egg and chicken nuggets.

“Sweetie, it’s Saturday today,” she reminds you. “Don’t you remember?” She looks up from her phone and smiles at you condescendingly, as if she knew how that friendly nickname causes your system to shut down. 

You try not to show it. Try not to make it obvious that you turned your head to hide the fact that you were flustered. The fact that despite being only friends with her your chest still tightens at her casual pet names for you, like what she called you last night as well. It’s what friends do: joke with each other, call them unflattering names one second then sweet ones the next. The dorm has enough fans to keep the air circulated, and the sweat you broke last night is gone. So if that’s that, why do you feel so warm right now?

You wonder if Hyeju also feels the same heat in her stomach when you say, “Grandpa can’t remember things well anymore, darling. You’ve got to cut him some slack.”

“Wow, okay. That’s one way to put it, I guess.”

It’s lucky that it’s still dark enough for your red ears to be invisible. You hate it when you mess up your laid-back persona in front of Hyeju, the one you put up whenever you engage in these playful arguments. “Look,” you say, “do you want to get McDonald’s or not?”

“Can’t. Won’t. Shan’t. Too lazy.”

Your heart sinks. “Fine, I’ll just go to a café then. Still have that thesis to do.”

Hyeju lays back into the bed and shuts her eyes. She’s learned that when there’s a chance to sleep, she should take it. To you, it doesn’t look like she’ll let go of this one, even if rejecting it means eating together with you. 

You put on a coat and some shoes, then turn away. Fine, let her be like that. What did you even expect? You can’t be her only priority in life. Sleep, of course, and rest should come first, especially if you’re a college student. You have to brush the hurt creeping in your heart and do your own thing, just like you’d let her do hers.

Don’t catch her eyes opening and lingering on you. Your back is turned and therefore doesn’t let you see it. But if only you did, you wouldn’t have been doubtful about your future concerns, all related to her.

-

This is a different story though. This isn’t a love story—if anything, it’s how a love story ends.

-

Just so it’s clear for everyone who comes across this story of yours: you don’t love Son Hyeju.

Yes, it bears repeating. Sometimes you need to say it again to convince yourself. Convince yourself that you’re not constantly in lectures wishing that it was her beside you instead of your groupmate. Convince yourself that your soul doesn’t shatter in pieces when she refuses to join you in anything. 

Maybe you just need someone to talk it out with. Yes, that’s right. The whimsical yearning in your heart isn’t for Hyeju. You swear on it.

Oh, but you’ve never been very good at that.

“What’s going on? I came as quick as I could,” says Daniel. Yeah, that’s his name. It’s a common name that sounds foreign and unique, especially since he’s a transfer student who came from the U.S.. He has pale skin and brown eyes that are as kind as he is. You like him—he’s the only one you bother bearing besides Hyeju.

But this isn’t about her. You need to let go of her. What? “Let go of her”? Why do you think about her like you two were actually a thing?

“Nothing. Just… feelings.”

“Something happened?” He sits down and looks around confusedly. “Wait, where’s Hyeju?”

“That’s the thing,” you say as you smile tightly. “She’s what happened.”

Daniel’s not stupid. And even if we say that he was, he’s been your friend for two years. It’s short in comparison to your time with Hyeju, you know, but it remains impressive. You don’t have that many friends besides them. That, of course, eventually led to Hyeju and Daniel becoming friends with each other. That’s the reason for him catching your drift—he knows you like the back of his hand.

You order the third cheapest option on the list: an iced latte. Your friend opts for a croissant and some tea, something that reminds you that he isn’t actually from Korea. You often forget that when his Korean is more fluent than a native’s and he gels with other people so quickly. He’s an easy-going guy with everything flowing well for him.

“Let me guess: she did something?” he asks. Alright, close enough. His fingers drum a steady rhythm on the table while yours do so on your laptop keyboard.

“Yeah.” Shake your head immediately and contradictingly. What are you saying? “No. Yeah, probably. But I think it’s my fault.”

No, it isn’t a mere probability of it being your fault. It is your fault. Why are you placing expectations on Hyeju to show up for you? It isn’t on her that you get hurt when she doesn’t have the time or willpower to come along with you. So, why are you even bothering to talk about this? You should let this matter slide. Brush it under the carpet. Rewrite the news headlines. Whatever.

“Ah, couple’s quarrels,” Daniel says teasingly. He thanks the waiter for his croissant then takes a healthy bite into it. “Out of the honeymoon phase already?”

Should you be delighted that people think that she’s yours and you’re hers? You’re split between these two emotions—choose to be frustrated instead.

“Why does everybody think that we’re a couple?” 

“Well.” Your friend twirls his teaspoon into the dainty cup. Drill your eyes on it. The café is simple and affordable to eat from, but the furniture and aesthetic make you think of it as a fancier place to eat it. “You’re always together.”

“That’s all?”

“Let me finish. When some guy has the balls to ask her out, she says she has a boyfriend. She shows him your profile and number. She goes, ‘My boyfriend wouldn’t be too happy about that.’”

The latte somehow doesn’t finish its journey through the straw. “She does?”

You’re split between two thoughts to go by again. You should be happy that your friend, a friend who’s a girl moreover (never confuse a friend who’s a girl with a girlfriend—ever), feels safe enough with you to refer to you as someone who’d protect her, whether from creeps or the aggressive dogs that patrol your college grounds. It takes real trust to call a guy who’s a friend (again, avoid the confusion) your boyfriend when the time requires it. This means she trusts you to come to her if she needs saving from an odd guy or an escape out of situations.

But at the same time, you wonder if that’s what you really are to her, what you’ll only ever be to her: a fake boyfriend. The guy friend who doesn’t mind being called a boyfriend because he knows his low place in her heart. Does Hyeju even look at you as someone who’s not just an acquaintance?

“Yeah,” Daniel says matter-of-factly. “She really likes having you around.”

You don’t need to think about it when you reply, softly: “I do, too.”

The two of you sit in silence you don’t know the source of. Daniel stops eating suddenly. Similarly, all the appetite is lost and you have to put your plastic cup of latte down before you throw it at the wall and ruin the dining experience for everyone else. No, this is your problem. You should deal with it before dragging anyone into it.

“So, why did you call me? What is it about Hyeju?”

Ah, what are you thinking? Daniel shouldn’t even be here. Why did you even call him over? You did and now you don’t know why you suddenly want to throw the contents of your plastic cup into his face. If you give in, you’d be feeding into the delusion that he’s the one standing between you and Hyeju. 

That only leads to the second question of the day:

Why do you suddenly hate Daniel? Daniel is a nice guy. He doesn’t even make a move on her or disrespect her. 

You don’t like these feelings. It’s causing you to think all sorts of nonsense about everybody else, not excluding Daniel, who hasn’t done anything wrong. 

“I…” Sigh. This is the second time you’re finding an escape route so that you could be alone with your feelings. “I have to think about it. I need some time alone.”

“Oh, sure. Sorry about that.”

Hate how more guilt washes over your heart. See here, he doesn’t even protest or say something that might even be right, like tell you how you called him to come over in the first place or how there isn’t a good reason why he should leave. He simply wraps his croissant with a plastic he asked for at the counter and leaves, tea and all.

Great. Now you’re alone, like you usually are and always will be. Attempt to use it as a pro and work on your thesis. Type it all down on a Word document. Wait patiently, as you learned to, as your old laptop stops for the suffering you’ve caused it with the extra storage taken up by assignments. Contact your groupmates. Remind them to do their jobs.

It’s all going so well. That’s when she pulls up to the cafe you’ve been writing at with her hands perched on the wooden surface of your table, with the smirk that doesn’t ever leave without making sure it’s her certified look featured on her lips.

No need to mention names when there's only one girl who could make your world stop spinning.

You can’t stop staring, and it’s not even because she turned up out of nowhere. You’re always in a state of shock when Hyeju is around.

She never allows her hair to be restrained in a tight tail, so there she is with those luscious black locks spilling all over her shoulders. How she manages to look so cool and be the very person everyone wishes to be while having those soft cheeks only the evillest of people wouldn’t pinch you don’t know. Son Hyeju is cool and cute at the same time, somehow balancing those everyday without effort.

But you don’t love her. Just to remind everyone once again. No matter what happens, you have no feelings for her. And that’s that.

"Hey," she says, putting her weight on one arm. Then she curves down her head to peer at your screen. "Whatchu doin'?"

Immediately slam your laptop shut and look at her with annoyed eyes. Oh, why do you even try? You could never despise her. You could pray to god all night and day for you to hate Hyeju, to hate her to the ends of the Earth just to banish these strange feelings, and he wouldn't give in. Crazier and crazier her antics shall get and you'd remain loyal to her.

And that's all because she's a good friend. That's everything there is to it. 

Wait. Who are you convincing again?

"Oh, come on. Smile a little, pretty boy." Hyeju places a finger on one edge of your mouth then pulls it upwards. "There you go. Suh-miiile—"

Pretty boy. She called me a pretty boy.

"You p-plan on getting off the table or what?" you say.

People are staring at you and Hyeju but that isn't what's making you blush. What's gotten into you? You can't tell yourself it's because of her simply because it isn't because of her. Hyeju has as much effect on you as a cup of coffee.

(You thrive off caffeine, by the way, but that's not the point.)

"Sure. No. Uh… probably?" She looks up at the ceiling as if she's figuring something out, then clicks her tongue when she does. "Yep, nah."

Groan. 

Secretly, confessed only in the deepest corners of your mind, you like people paying attention to you and Hyeju. It’s not much about the attention itself but the way it makes them think that the two of you must be really close. Like, really really close. The kind that makes those who want Hyeju rush to her only to be met in the face with a barrier: you. They can’t have her because you do.

Not in that way, of course, but it still means something. If she has you, nobody else could, and if you have her, more so.

"Son Hyeju,” you say, fighting back the smile on your face as she ruffles your hair, “I swear to god—"

"Oh, please," says Hyeju, leaning forward with narrowed eyes and a wicked smile, "spare me, oppa. Spare me the blasphemy—"

That's enough from her, you think. Your hands dive for her waist. Pull her down onto your lap. Your thighs soften the blow and also play the role of a launch pad as one kick sends Hyeju in the air. More chances to tickle her come along with it. Okay, that bit about the lap was wholly unintentional, and you'll swear to god again for that. 

What isn't unintended though is the tickling you do on Hyeju's midriff and arms. It helps that she's so sensitive—soon she's laughing boisterously, struggling in your lap with her head upturned and triangle-shaped mouth letting out unkempt guffaws. She nearly kicks the two of you out of the café seat.

"Dude, you are such a loser, stop!" she laughs, still winding around like a screw on top of you. Laughs alternate between each syllable. "P-people are looking, fffucking quit—"

When that beautiful gummy smile breaks on her face, you don't want to. People can look as much as they like and you wouldn't give a damn. Tickling is Hyeju's punishment, and you'll do it to her anywhere to teach her a lesson.

"Ha, haha, I'm sorry, okay!"

"That's my girl." 

You’re not hurt anymore. For a few delicious minutes, you’ll forget you were ever pondering if you like her or not.

Stop completely because you’re easy to convince like that All she needed was that one magic word. Place her on the chair beside you and fold her hands on her lap as if she were a misbehaving child. 

"Now behave yourself."

Hyeju rolls her eyes. "And if I don't?" she challenges you. 

You raise your fingers in a curled position and direct them threateningly centimeters away from her ticklish spots. She gives up. She can't find a punishment worse than that.

"Why are you here anyway? I thought you didn’t want to come," you say, taking the liberty to open your laptop again. The screen directs you to your assignment tab after you type in your password. Sigh; still five thousand words to go. 

"I'm here because I've got nowhere else to be," she answers. She practices her own liberty, too, and sips shamelessly at your iced beverage.

Her eyes light up at the taste. "I got bored being alone in the dorm."

You think of her alone, and your heart immediately sinks. Maybe you should have stayed there. You’re her roommate—you’re there for her to have company. Sure, the roommates were paired up randomly, but it must lead to something now that you and Hyeju have met again. It was by pure chance that she reunited with you after years of being apart. There’s a string drawing you together, and you don’t know what it means. 

You do know that the reunion with your childhood best friend and seeing how she’s grown made your heart flutter. You act all mean when you’re around her, which is confusing when you’ve missed her so much.

"And I needed somewhere else to finish this thesis before miss Wong realizes it was due three weeks ago." Glare pointedly at her. Here you go again. Told you so. "Somewhere that's not occupied by a brat."

It's true. Call it what you will: an insult, a pointless accusation, but what you said rings true even in your childhood best friend's defiant mind. She could be a handful often.

"I am not a brat," she says, offended. She knows the truth and chooses to deny it. Typical. You should have seen that coming when she’s the girl who lies about the extra dishes in the sink not being her fault and her turn with the laundry.

Sigh. Act as the lawyer; you’re studying to be one anyway. It’s best to practice. "Remember when you cut up the slogan on the mayo label then taped it on me? I had 'white creamy filling; taste me!' on my back for the whole day!" 

"It was a big-ass sticker for a mayonnaise, okay? I couldn't stop myself." Hyeju admits this with hands raised in defeat. "But what about that time you shoved a Toblerone in my mouth while I was sleeping then took a photo of me?"

Raise your hands, too. You realize there's no way to weigh in the blame on a single person when you and Hyeju brought the brat out of each other. It's impossible to go by a day that isn't filled by at least one prank and joking quarrels.

Still, you find it fun. Hyeju's so easy to bond with, so easy to love. 

Whoa, where did that suddenly get here? Like you said, you love Hyeju, but only as a friend. 

So you do love her, in a way. Huh. 

That realization settles in and suddenly you're rendered frozen at the table. Your hands that ought to be finishing your schoolwork are frozen in mid-air. You're staring at the screen like you were watching a gory movie instead of trying to tick off your to-do list. 

"You okay?" she asks, one-of-a-kind lips sealed around the paper straw. "You kind of, like, went to another dimension for a bit."

How do you tell her you’re considering the fact that you might actually like her? You’ve known her for years. Something’s inevitably going to bloom inside you for her, right?

"Y-yeah. I'm good." Not. “And stop drinking my coffee.”

“You wouldn’t need it if you just did the thesis early. What’s so hard about it anyway?” Hyeju stands then bends over to glance at your laptop.

You don’t realize how short her dress is. It rides up to the centers of her thighs and you don’t know how to prevent anyone from seeing something forbidden without brushing down the hem of her dress. If you went down that road, you’d have to run your hand along her back and ass—you’d look like a pervert. 

Idiot. Think of something. Something that isn’t how you’d love to see more when you're just like everyone and shouldn't be allowed more eye access to her body. Only you know how many times Hyeju’s body came up in your mind when you were alone. Paired up with that attractive face that held a permanent pout, it’s impossible not to think of anything else. 

“Ugh! You are so dumb, you know that, oppa?” To your horror, Hyeju sits down neatly on your lap. She has her hands quickly frisking on your keyboard. “There’s a comma missing here, and a citation over here… oh, and a—”

“Save some for the rest of us!” a man about your age and height yells jokingly, cheering you on with a raise of his mug of hot coffee.

Both you and Hyeju look at him with confusion written all over your faces. Your words of surprise almost sync and match with the other for you realize your hands are on her hips, and Hyeju’s leaning back so comfortably in you that anyone would have thought it was another case of couple’s PDA. They’d be wrong though. She’s not your girlfriend. She can’t be your girlfriend.

So why is she so comfortable on top of you, as if she’s always been there? Why did your hands naturally rest on the beautiful slopes of her hips and pull her down the moment she stooped?

The guy’s grandmother smiles adoringly. “Young love,” she says with a dreamy tinge to her aged voice. "What wouldn't I give to experience that again."

You and Hyeju meet each other’s gazes and suddenly you’re unattached to each other. She guiltily settles on her chair and you take your hands off her. That was wrong. Why were the two of you so comfortable with being so touchy? Best friends don’t do that. At least, not best friends of the opposite sex. 

“I should go,” she stammers, standing up. “Call me i-if you need help, oppa.”

Just like that, she’s gone. Where did she go? Why did you lose her so fast?

-

Hyeju’s always called you oppa one way or another, but that moment left a particular jar in your heart. It shards the depths of the core and renders you speechless. You didn’t know that the person you’d love to hear that title the most from is your best friend. She’s supposed to call you that when she’s younger, but even if she weren’t, you’d still love to hear her call you that.

There’s a sense of fulfillment in being able to be Hyeju’s oppa. The one she always relies on. The one she sticks to through whatever happens. That’s why now that she’s told you to call her if you need help makes you ache. It’s the things that are seemingly so simple as that that send more yearning inside you.

The question is: what exactly are you yearning for? Who are you yearning for?

You think you know the answer. It’d take guts to admit it, to finally come clean. But what’s there to come clean about? You don’t love Hyeju. 

A ding from your phone just now. You’re nearly finished with the thesis, and it’s lucky that way since it’s from Hyeju. God knows she has ways of distracting you. Her clean moves at the dance she led and her chill yet stern voice when she commands a rowdy classroom steer you away from what you should be doing, like get away from her. Avoid her at all costs. Never tell her what you’re feeling because it’ll only end up badly for everyone involved. You don’t want to hurt Hyeju, and still you remain hopeful to not get yourself hurt, too.

It takes several seconds for courage to tie you down and pick up the phone. It’s a series of texts from her.

HyejU_U: hey

Sooooooooo

I’m sorry for what happened earlier. 

I didn’t really think and thought that you'd be fine with it

cause yknow

You pulled me down

and

We’re friends.

right?

Yeah, we’re friends, you think bitterly. And no matter how touchy you get, Son Hyeju, it’s all we’ll ever be to you.

HyejU_U: can we just move forward from it? If you want to ofc

Do you? Graduation is near and it’s still taken plenty of years of your life to get over Hyeju. Do you go forward and start on a new slate with her, or dwell in places you shouldn’t be?

Your fingers linger on the keyboard, then—

You: Sure.

Sorry, too

if i like

Made you feel uncomfortable

Wasnt my intention, i promise

HyejU_U: oh you didnt make me feel uncomfy at all.

So don’t worry <3

What a relief.

HyejU_U: i should be the one apologizing anyway

I thought it would be nice to be on you since ur arms feel good around me

Cock a brow. A giddy smile itches at the ends of your lips. Stifle it you will, though she can’t see you through her screen.

HyejU_U: sorry again

i just wanted to see if what i thought was true

Anyways. 

yeah, sorry.

You: so we’re good?

HyejU_U: we have a deal, dickface

;)

See, this is the thing you’re afraid to lose with Hyeju: the carefreeness of your little friendly touches and hugs, insults that take it just far enough, everything. If you told her how you felt (keep in mind that you might not actually like her romantically; you’re just thinking that you might), you’d lose your relationship with her—the one that formed before the two of you even knew what romance was. The one that’s kept the reunion as natural as could be without the need for awkwardness.

You’re so glad to have her back. As a student you’ve nearly cried knowing you passed a semester and worked night and day to finish a difficult assignment—none of those feelings can match the one of relief you felt when Hyeju told you everything was good on both ends. 

But for now, you’ve gotta try to put a dent into this thesis. You’re almost done, you swear. You’ve just been stalling—not intentionally. You swear on that, too. Your whole afternoon’s been swamped up in thoughts about her plus the thoughts about if you’re too perverted a man to be with her. There are a lot of questions left by you immediately responding to Hyeju choosing to sit on your lap. A lot of which are left unanswered.

Priorities. Sigh a little; there’s still work to be done, yet worrying about your best friend is on top of the list. You really should find a hobby when you’re already dragging your teammates behind. Plus, there’s the capstone to worry about that you haven’t prepared for even in the most miniscule bit. So there really shouldn’t be an explanation for why thinking about what she thinks of you is your number one priority. Why, you have plenty of other things to worry about.

You just can’t get her off your mind. These days it’s impossible to.

Abstain anyway, the best you can, from thinking about her and finally complete the thesis. It’s lengthy, well-edited, and has the perfect format to finally make you a lawyer. Attorney doesn’t sound too bad when it’s added to the front of your name.

You should celebrate, actually. The moment you think of it, Daniel suddenly messages you. He’s saying something about it being a Saturday, so you should go to the bar with him. You’re a social drinker, anyway. You could go there without going overboard. Addictions and vices form in these years of fresh adulthood, but you’ve never found yourself wound up in something.

So you do. They ask for your IDs and let you in after a short study of the cards. The guard gives you a lengthy lecture about not being alcoholics as young as you are, but welcomes you anyway.

If we’re talking about getting yourself wound up in someone, though…

“Dude,” Daniel says. He motions his glass to someone coming from the door. “Hyeju.”

You already know he’s rich, but what teacher did he pay to study him into mind-reading? “I wasn’t thinking about her,” you tell him defensively.

“No, I mean, she’s here.” He stares at said woman walking over to the bar with swaying hips. “How the fuck did she get here?”

Hyeju’s here? Swallow. Quick. What do you say? Where exactly in the bar is she right now? Why is she here? When did she get here? Why the fuck are you talking like a news reporter? 

“Hullo, boys.” She stops your train of thought and makes sure to dedicate all of them to her with her hands set on the table and a pretty crop top attached to the curves on her perfect body. You wonder where she got that dress. If she thrifted it, it isn’t obvious—her body does good work in making it look like couture.

“Hi, Hyeju.” Daniel acknowledges her with a nod. He’s a friend of yours and hers, just to remind everyone. He wouldn’t take another step with Hyeju, but you still have yourself staring daggers into his stubbled beard that lines his face and how he takes life as he would a game. There’s a reason why you’re the least tipsy among the two of you. He likes a challenge.

“Hi,” you say meekly. Hope your voice doesn’t sound twisted when your stomach suddenly is. Oh, and it’s not because of Hyeju. It’s the alcohol, pinky promise with a finger heart after. Alcohol’s never made your stomach turn this way though. 

Hyeju regards the shotglasses. “You went drinking without me?” 

“What does it look like?” Daniel asks, giving her the finger. It’s just the usual friendly argument that doesn’t cross lines or anything. The ones that you and Hyeju have. Why do you feel like punching him in the face?

Luckily, she doesn’t have a fragile heart. “Cute. Keep it that way.” She rolls her eyes then turns to you. “Oh, and you. I thought you liked having me around.”

“I’m sorry.” Ask the bartender for another shot then hand it to her. “I guess we just thought you were busy with training.”

She’s training to become an idol. It’s been her dream since she was a kid, when you played in the slides and dropped from monkey bars. She’s always told you she was going to be big someday, and you never doubted that for a second. She even had a name she planned to use if she were to be a performer: Olivia Hye. You weren’t gonna lie, it had a nice ring to it. Not too bad for a name she made up after skimming through a baby name book from the bookstore.

“I dropped out,” she says simply, downing the shot like water.

“What?” you and Daniel ask together. Both of your voices sync with the shock, too. Neither of you could get why she did that. It’s been Hyeju’s dream to become an idol for so long. She couldn’t give that up just like that, but she did.

“Yep.” There’s pride in her voice. “The whole thing was a shithole. I already have Idalso to deal with. I’m not gonna put up with that, fuck no.”

Your heart aches for her dream. Idalso University really is blocking her from achieving it. She could be out there on the stage, maybe having found a better agency, singing and dancing her heart out. Instead, she has to choose one problem at the time and hence goes with college. She has her own parents to please, and because you have yours, you get it. You truly do.

As for Hyeju getting a problem off her mind, like that terrible agency, your spirits lift. You raise a glass and clink it with hers. 

“To getting the hell out of this shithole,” you say; look at the girl you’ve lived for and loved with a smile, “and Son fucking Hyeju for doing it again.”

Your glasses meet. You’re somehow happy that it’s only two, yours and hers, that join. You can’t explain it for the life of you, but you like seeing Daniel become like a background character to it all. Just another extra in Hyeju’s show and yours. It’s cruel, especially when he’s been nothing but a good friend, but it is what it is.

“Tell you what,” Daniel says. “Let’s go to a noraebang tomorrow.”

She’s contemplative. “Isn’t the one near Idalso… like, expensive?” 

“So what?” He shrugs. “You did it, Hyeju. You got out of that company thing. I’m done with my capstone and so is he with his thesis. I say we all have some fun. On me.”

Daniel has the privilege of not worrying about things being expensive or not. It’s the norm for him. You kind of want him to play Dorothy and put himself in your shoes, then make him go through what you did. 

You know it isn’t fair and he’s just being kind. Still and all, your hatred rises.

“What now?” Daniel asks. “You guys in!”

“Of course!” Hyeju nods and claps her hands together. There’s a gummy smile on her face again. You’ve seen it on her many times, but you’ve also seen the sunset everyday—therefore, you’ll still be glad to catch a glimpse of it.

You guess since she’s in, you have to go, too. You say yes and that of course you’d love to go, and this time three glasses clink together prettily. Smiles are on each of your faces albeit yours is artificial.

"Could you act any less like a deadbeat dad?" Hyeju asks. She sits down on the stool beside you after Daniel leaves to get some air. Still feels like he's here when you feel like everyone's eyes are on you and her.

"I'm not doing anything." You say that because you aren't. You definitely aren't stirring a brew of jealousy inside you that poisons the maker, too. You're its creator yet the prophecy that was written tells that it'll turn against you, too. You’re Kronos, and it's an inevitable fate. 

"Exactly. That's what deadbeat means." This matter-of-fact statement from her is followed by Hyeju stealing your shotglass out of your hand right before you drink it. "Seriously, dude. What's up with you?"

Oh, you don't know. Maybe her possibly being your crush? It's such an immature matter, but you haven't had a crush like this. The others were just sweet-faced and from afar. Those are the girls you dream of. To have a girl like Hyeju, the one you've known since forever, with a spunky personality but an opposing pretty face, the one who's been your ride-or-die—it's complicated.

What else could you say to her when the truth is something you'd rather she not hear?

"I'm fine, Hye."

"Are you? You look…" She thinks about it for a while as she studies your hair and poorly combined outfit choices. She slicks your blunt strands back and smiles teasingly. "...sleazy."

"Fuck y—"

"Shhh." She places a finger on your lips. The side of her thigh touches your lap. You're so close that any word you utter won't pass without hitting her. "It's okay. I like it."

You purse your lips. You didn't expect that. She's taken seats on your lap that were uninitiated by you and let you lift her in the air when you hug her. All that and her fingers in your hair are the most surprising.

"You're drunk," you say, although she’s only had a few shots. 

Hyeju inches closer to you and holds your chin in place. "I'm sober as the next wolf, sweetie," she tells you. Her next words fail to show her hesitance. "And… and it just so happens that I really, really want to kiss you."

She's joking. She's playing around with your heart. You're not a virgin—you know what girls do. Hyeju doesn't strike you as the type to do that in spite of what’s going on, but you have to be careful. Your heart’s been bruised too many times already. 

Careful isn't the word for it when you take the first step and lean in for a kiss. Maybe you're drunk yourself. Dizziness enchants your mind as Hyeju's dreamy lips perfectly pout to the shape of your mouth. Her eyes are closed. It's like she's in a restful dream.

You can’t believe you’re doing it. You’re kissing her. Passionately, too—there’s real determination in the way you hungrily lean forward to devour her lips. 

The bar oohs and ahhs, then erupts into a crowd of applause. A few whistles come your way. You can feel Hyeju smile into your mouth.

-

Proclivities upon proclivities to keep her around you and only you couldn’t stop Monday from coming. You’ve only been to a noraebang once and that was with your family. It excites you to go to one again. However, you’d rather have only Hyeju to come, to be the exclusive member of the club that gets to hear her soft, pretty voice echo in the mic.

She’s really doing a number on you. Daniel’s your friend—sure, he might be out of touch with the local games and experiences, yet he’s still important to you. You can’t be mad at him over a girl who probably doesn’t even think the kiss at the bar was anything special. She hasn’t even talked about it with you and acts like it didn’t happen. Just another boy, just another day. That’s probably how you are to her.

Ouch. Way to go hurting yourself with your own made-up scenarios. As expected from you. 

The three of you decide to cut classes. It’s not like you’re in high school anymore. Professors just don’t give a fuck, unless it’s miss Wong. She’s pretty and quiet at first. Then you have to wait to see her get angry—that’s when all hell breaks loose.

No hell on the loose today. Just three little demons from hell called Hyeju, Daniel and yourself down on the loose and down the road to the noraebang. Hyeju’s in a loose black jacket and a plain white tee. You somehow notice that more than Daniel who’s sporting a graphic shirt with swear words from every language printed on it. You don’t have much to say about your attire when it’s nothing special, not even compared to Hyeju, who’s wearing simple clothes like you.

“If a teacher sees us out here—” says Daniel nervously. He’s never rebelled before. The most he’s done is missing a class. 

“No one will,” Hyeju promises him, opening the door of the place for the two of you though in your opinion it should be the other way around: you opening the door for her. What better way to show Hyeju that you could be a gentleman? Too late now. Plus, she doesn’t care much for that. That’s what keeps your excitement on a low burn. It takes more than opening a door and waiting around to impress Hyeju. 

You sign your names at the front. Daniel picks a nice, wide room with a glass table perfect for chips and bottles. The bright screen already shows snippets of K-pop music videos, involving sweet-faced Korean girls waving at the camera and running along a beach. As boyish Hyeju is compared to other girls, you could definitely see her doing that for her passion of becoming an idol. 

“What should we sing?” asks Hyeju, sitting down on the black plush seats comfortably. Her gummy smile is precious.

“Anything you want.” He slings an arm around her. His looped arm tugs her into a warm embrace. “Anything for the soon-to-be lawyer slash K-pop idol.”

Stiffen. Turn away and suddenly take good interest in the walls with a carved 3D effect. Much more interesting than whatever Daniel’s trying to pull on your best friend. Right, Hyeju’s your best friend. Nothing more. That kiss was a drunken mistake. You shouldn’t be getting angry. Besides, this noraebang was rented for you to have fun, not glower at Daniel doing nothing but be a good friend.

Hyeju laughs and leans into him gladly. “Stop, you’re gonna make me throw up!”

You feel out of place all of a sudden. Has she always been that affectionate with him? You thought that those touches and hugs were reserved for you only. Apparently not.

“Sing a song, Hye.” Your eyes don’t meet her gaze.

“They wanted me to debut with this song,” she says. The mic is shaky in her hand. “I—” She blushes. “I want to sing it for you.”

Sweetness infiltrates the air. It’s not of a scent or touch, but of hearing. It's Hyeju’s voice. It's smooth and soft as it passes through the empty atmosphere. No instrumental accompanies her voice, and you’re glad it’s that way. It allows you to marvel at Hyeju’s tone, quiet in spite of its sexiness.

And it takes that and several songs later, sung daringly by all of your trio, and jokes passed among friends that make you think about it. Really think about it. While Daniel and she sing their hearts out to the point of their voices cracking and laughs transforming into guffaws, you sit there and submerge yourself in thought.

You’ve seen Hyeju smile. It's pretty and sweet; her triangle-shaped mouth curls up into a half moon and it's everything you've ever wished for in life. No, fuck food. Fuck oxygen. All you need is her smile. It's cheesy as hell when you page through those types of quotes in those teenage romance books you probably shouldn't even be holding, but you swear that if Hyeju smiles for the rest of her life, it's enough for you to live. She just looks so pretty. Her resting bitch face, stone cold as the title of the expression suggests, is hot (yes, you're using that word), but when she chooses to smile—oh, you're as good as dead.

You don't like Son Hyeju though.

You’ve heard her sing in the noraebang room with her soft voice filling the vicinity. She doesn't sing much although she could. The day would come when she’d say "you know, I almost became an idol. I trained then dipped halfway,” and the pitched raspiness of her voice still would send you to heaven. It's a natural and beautiful thing, a trait she couldn't learn from the best vocal coach.

You don't like Son Hyeju though.

You’ve felt her hair when she leaned into your lap after laughing too much. "Stop, or I swear to god I will fuck your shit up," she told you, slapping your thigh after your terrible dad joke. You ran your fingers through her hair to calm her, but if anything it's an excuse to just touch her. You want to touch Hyeju, and not even in a sexual way. You just want your bodies closed up on each other with no awkwardness barriering the freedom to hold and be held.

And it’s not the kiss, but all these that make you stop your denial, and discover that you—

“—think I like Hye,” you whisper to Daniel when said girl leaves to get some beer. The flashing disco lights hanging from the ceiling can’t camouflage the red on your face. 

Daniel laughs and puts down the mic. The bump on the crafted table sends a tinged pitch of feedback to your ears. “Everyone likes her. So?”

He’s right. Everyone likes Hyeju. Yeah, they like her through every name she’s taken up. She was the star of the school back in middle school when she went as Hyejoo, then the ice princess of high school as Olivia Hye, and finally… as herself now that she’s grown up with you, Son Hyeju. She’s become so many versions of herself and yet people still like the real her. You still know the real her.

“No,” is what you say, as you twiddle your fingers. You don’t know how to say this without causing an uproar. “I like Hyeju.”

He considers this for a moment, weighing in your words. “Like as in… like like?”

A nervous swallow. Is Daniel the right person to tell this ? “Like like,” you reply nevertheless.

Daniel locks his chin between his rough fingers and strokes it thoughtfully. His face is clouded with a feeling you can’t read. “Well, a lot of people do, too. And they wouldn’t blame you for it. She’s—” He looks down at his shoes then back at the noraebang screen. “She’s a pretty girl.”

The understatement of the century. Hyeju’s face was carved with such beauty—curved, pyramid lips; slanted eyes; a cold look that you, unlike people when asked about their first impression of her, weren’t scared of—and she’s just so… easy to love. 

Yes, Son Hyeju is easy to love. Everyone loves her, but she can only ever reciprocate it in a different way to one man. Woman, perhaps? Anything goes, but you'd rather she gives it to you.

You're a selfish person, you admit that. More so when it comes to her. 

"Let's get this party started!" she says. You don't intend to flinch yet you end up doing it anyway when she sits down next to you and hands you canned alcohol. 

"There's only three of us, Hye," Daniel points out. The rounded metal springs up from the can and he gulps down a hefty amount of the spiked liquid.

"Three's a crowd. Especially when it's with you guys."

"So you're saying we're too much?" Match her sass with hidden bits of your own. You're only trying to make it seem like your heart doesn't beg to be held close to hers. 

"Too much is just enough for me." 

Hyeju drops both of her arms around you and your other friend and ruffles your hair. It's sweet. It should be. It’s exactly that which makes you fail to understand why your heart feels squeezed. Why is she also hugging Daniel in the same manner she hugs you?

The kiss at the bar means nothing. The kiss at the bar means nothing. You have to stop thinking that it means there's a ring on your finger already. 

You rise from the sofa to purchase chips because you’re starving, but not for healthy food. You wouldn’t dream of eating a salad when there’s junk food in your general vicinity, and it just so happens that there’s a vending machine you’ve got your eye on at the counter. Soon, a rainbow of plastic bags fills your arms. What they contain would work well to repay your debt with Hyeju. Daniel can eat these without worrying about money. He’s been a good friend. He deserves chips after the evil you’ve thought about him.

"I bought chips—"

Daniel is pushing Hyeju to the end of the sofa and has his lips locked on hers. His hands are in her hair. Her eyes are shut. You can hear the sloppy sounds of kissing bouncing off the noraebang walls. The instrumental from the radio is the cherry on top of everything.

Does this kiss guarantee a ring? 

"Wow," you say. Nod then laugh, as if doing it would make your situation better. “Wow.”

Hyeju turns her head and scrambles for broken dignity. It's too late. You've already seen it. Daniel doesn't even bother running after you when she bursts out of the room to chase you. You're immovable—each step is a promise to take you far away. You trust that promise to skewer you away from Son Hyeju, Son fucking Hyeju who led you on and played with your heart.

"Hey.” Her steps catch up with yours. Walk faster, but she only draws closer. You can’t escape from her now. “Hey!”

"What?" Turn to her, heavy breathing lining your shoulders. You stare into her small face and silently dare her to make an excuse.

To your surprise and her audacity, she does. "It's not what it looks like!" she says, swallowing. How could she be the one near tears when she's the one who kissed him? "Let me explain—"

"I know what I saw."

"Well, you don't see the bigger picture. He sm—"

"—smart? Funny? Rich?" Laugh and shake your head. Your laughs sound more and more genuine. You've gone a little sick in the head. "Yeah, I know. But hey, we're not supposed to be anything, right? Why am I mad? It's not like our kiss meant anything."

"Please, oppa. Listen to me."

"No, go sing together,” you say, then thrust the junk food you bought in her arms. “I’m sure you’re better off with him.”

Mean it. Turn away. Don't bother to look at her when you know she'll go crawling back to Daniel. He's totally her type. He's everything, you're nothing. He's smart, you're not. He loves her more, and you do—just not enough. Now you understand why they were so touchy and close in the room.

Anger is irrational when it was just a kiss. The two of you weren't official, either. If you weren't before, you sure as hell aren't now. It's just not meant to be. 

She likes Daniel, not you. And even though you want to be, you aren't supposed to be angry at Hyeju. She was swept into a high school love triangle that happened a little later in her life, and ultimately chose the better guy. No need to drop names. The kiss was enough for you to know which man she chose.

Besides, you don't love Son Hyeju anyway. Isn't that what you've always told yourself? That's right. You don't love her.

Denial is a river flowing down your cheek.

-

The dorm becomes a cemetery of the living dead. You and Hyeju have not spoken to each other for three months. She stops waking you up for class, and you do the same. The place is notably cleaner after the two of you rely only on yourself to tidy up. Lost are the sarcasm, friendly touches, teasing arguments. It’s like the two of you never knew each other.

It’s through this that you discover that you have to be careful what you wish for. You always thought about Daniel putting himself in your place, and it happened. Ever since the kiss, Hyeju’s been chattier with him, and he pulls her close the way you used to, and she smiles at him like she used to at you, except that it’s wider now. They’re together. Officially together; you’ve seen their Instagram posts. 

Moreover, she’s happier than ever, flourishing without you.

And you? You’re still stuck in that noraebang, replaying that fateful kiss over and over in your head. Each time you close your eyes you see Hyeju and Daniel in a passionate liplock. It’s the kiss that ruined what you had with Hyeju and has made your quality of life deteriorate. You didn’t know that Hyeju makes up almost every part of your day. Mornings are empty without your stroll with her. Post-exam nights aren’t as fun when she’s not there to bring drinks. Afternoons are lonely when she’s always out with Daniel.

You hate the fucker. He knew you liked Hyeju. You’ve told him about it right before the thing he did with her even happened, so it’s impossible that he’d forget. Besides, like he said, the two of you are always together. He surely would have picked up the signs. Unfortunately, he whisked her away just like that.

You dislike to feel like the scheming guy in coming-of-age films who doesn’t get the girl, but it’s the perfect portrayal of your emotions.

Wake up for class. She does, too. You have the decency to not gawk at how good she looks even in a casual tank top and plaid shorts, but she doesn’t even try to hide that she’s staring at you. Just not for the same reason, you assume. You’re just her boy best friend. With the way things are, you aren’t even a friend to her anymore.

You smear cheese onto a soft slice of bread. Still, her eyes are on you. From the corner of what takes up your vision, you could tell that she’s trying to figure out how to make this less awkward. You’d think that an eternity’s worth of effectively giving each other the cold shoulder would make her learn how to do it. She’s a smart girl anyway. She should have figured that out.

“You know… you can’t just keep ignoring me.”

Freeze—it’s the first time she’s spoken to you in a while. And you weren’t prepared for that. It’s like someone threw a punch in your stomach, but it’s also a breath of fresh air. How those two feelings could converge into each other you don’t know. 

“So stop it, will you?” she continues. She swings her legs out of the duvet and places her hands snug on the edge of her bed. “Stop treating me like I’m a…”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m your fucking ex,” Hyeju snarls. The duvet crumples in her fist.

Scoff. Fold the bread slice tight onto the other squared end. Talk about a good morning. “Ex? We were never a thing, Hye… ju.” 

Right, it isn’t like that anymore. You can’t call her Hye like the old times.

The hurt that registers on her face, still pretty in the midst of pain, comes by so fast it would take a magnifying glass to see it clearly. Now she’s the one scoffing. She recovers quickly from the stifled nickname so well that you never would have guessed you disarmed her. “That’s the thing. You’re right—we weren’t boyfriend-girlfriend. So why are you acting like I’m a ghost?”

“I wonder why,” you say. “Couldn’t be because you kissed me then decided to kiss another guy while I was away. Nope, totally out of the question.”

What happened? It seems like just yesterday the two of you were throwing insults and playfully quarreling with each other like it’s natural. This is a real disagreement here. This can’t be resolved with a smile or hug. You and Hyeju aren’t like that anymore. It’s a thing of the past.

Just like your friendship.

“If you’d just let me explain—”

“You know what? I don’t have time for this. Go with Daniel to class. Have a good life with him. Just call me if you get lost.”

Don’t even try to take a bite out of your cheese sandwich. You leave it on the table. Later, it’ll become stale and cold, similar to your friendship with Hyeju, or whatever kind of fucked up relationship you have.

You storm out of the dorm. You’re glad to get out—you’re already worried about the test later and the night class with miss Wong. Don’t need a situationship to take up your mind either. 

The day passes like a car on a rocky, jagged road. It’s difficult to muster a smile to the freshmen the moment you come in to help miss Jeong teach, or work on your test when that argument with her fills your mind rather than equations you should have memorized. The whole day is torture, and you don’t dare wish it on anyone. Not even that asshole Daniel

“What’s up with you today?” people ask you. “You sure you’re alright?” “Where’s Hyeju?”

You don’t answer.

When the night comes, it’s relief for your sore mind and body. That test beat you up and the sun was too cruel to your skin. Even if night classes could last till the brink of dawn, you don’t mind. Take comfort in the fact that it’s only a discussion and nothing more. 

Barely listen though. Two a.m. creeps by and you haven’t taken in a thing. Usually miss Wong would have you focused, keeping in mind that she’s strict and merciless, but you’re too tired today. Your bones ache though you didn’t do much walking. They’re only symptoms of heartbreak.

You don’t want to see a doctor. In fact, you want to get worse.

Miss Wong looks up at the clock. “Is it alright if I extend for just five minutes?” she asks. Her pencil skirt struggles to contain her strides on the platform.

A chorus of mixed responses echo in the classroom. Others, the top students in particular who participate in every club you could name, say it’s fine. Some already have excuses to make: they need to work on homework; they have other classes to go to; every excuse existing. You don’t know which side you’re on—you don’t want to come home to another angry night with Hyeju, and at the same time, you can’t be assed to stay.

Then—

Ringing. It’s all you hear. Your classmates’ voices drown out in it. It’s supposed to be soft, but it isn’t anymore when everyone shuts their mouth in alarm. Look here, look there. You don’t know where it’s coming from. 

Your hint is the light in your pocket. Fish it out. It’s coming from your phone.

“I thought I told you guys to put your cellphones on mute during class,” Wong says, sighing. Her glare shoots you a warning.

Okay, you’d say sorry to her and put your phone away. Drop the call. Anything. But the first thing you do is wonder:

Why the fuck is Son Hyeju calling you?

Aside from all the tension between you, your natural instinct is to answer. Your next is to ask her, “Hye?”

“Oppa…” comes her voice from your speaker.

Before you could wonder why she’s calling, you notice that Hyeju’s voice is… lonely. Yes, lonely. That’s the word you’d use right away if you’re asked to describe it. No, it can’t be just that. It’s mixed with something else. It’s higher, a little more groggy.

Forget that you were fighting. Forget that she kissed Daniel and broke your heart. She wouldn’t call if it isn’t something even her pride can’t protect. “Hyeju? What’s wrong?” 

“I’m lost.” 

-

Those are the two words she utters before breaking into sobs. You’ve never heard or seen Hyeju cry. She likes to treat problems with anger rather than sadness, slicing away at every conflict with groans and cursing professors for low grades. If she’s crying, it must mean something’s wrong. Something’s very, very wrong.

You’re keenly aware that all eyes and ears are monitoring your moves, but you don’t care. You rise from your seat and start gathering your laptop into your bag. You forget about your notes. Fuck them. Hyeju comes first. 

“Where did you go, Hye?” Walk out of the class. If miss Wong has a problem with that, she can tell you about it tomorrow. 

Sniffles on her end. Her quiet, low cries break your heart. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I need you, oppa. I have… I have nobody else. Please come and get me.”

“Hyeju—”

“Please,” she whispers. Her voice lowers to a whine. “I’m alone. I’m so alone.”

Tears itch at the bottoms of your eyes. You have to come and get her. Need to forget the fight and silent treatment that ensued. All that means nothing if Hyeju’s in need of your help.

Where the fuck are your keys? Remove them from the loop of your jeans and click the button. In the driveway, your car’s headlights shine. Yep, there it is. You once regretted buying a secondhand car like that. Now that it can get you to Hyeju, you vow to take care of it for life. You’d spend thousands to repair it if it breaks down.

But right now, it’s Hyeju who’s breaking down. She’s all alone somewhere and she needs you. In a way, you need her, too. She’s the one who’s braver to admit it.

You’ve never driven faster in your entire life. All the while you stay on the line with Hyeju. Your grip on the wheel tightens whenever she lets out a hopeless little sob. She’s crying so hard that you want to roll into a ball in the corner and cry, too. You can’t do that. You have to be the stronger one, the one who comes to her like she’s done for you and tells her that everything’s going to be alright.

You make no promises. 

Eventually you coax a location out of her and break several speed limits. Ignore the cops that yell at you. They can all go and fuck off. Hyeju needs you. You’re her best friend. It’s what friends do.

“Motherfucker,” you curse, upon seeing that the location she led you to was a club. It’s hidden in the corner of a creepy alley. “Hyeju, are you drunk?”

“Nooooo…” she drawls, giggling through her tears. “Your voice is so nice, oppa. It really makes me feel better. Did’ya know that?”

No time to be flattered. You burst into the club and find her in the midst of flashing lights and crowds of bodies. Your ears ring because of the music. Whose idea was it to hire this DJ? He thinks he’s doing such a good job, too. 

Hyeju’s in the center of it all. Her black coat is too big for her, but so is the crowd. When it moves, it drags her along by the toes. She’s… smiling? Wasn’t she crying on the phone just minutes earlier? Maybe she drank more. This can’t be good.

“Hyeju!” Start walking faster. 

She sticks her tongue out at you and starts to sprint upon seeing you get close.

You have no time for games. This isn’t even in the least bit funny. What if someone spiked her drink? What if that was the reason she’s acting funny? Worse: what if someone’s planning to take advantage of her? All these concerns bump into each other in your head as you run after her. 

A couple of “excuse me”s and “sorry!”s after you quickly squeeze in between dancing people. Drinks spilled on the floor. Anger from two dolled up ladies. (A look to your right and… yep, not only from them.) Disapproval from the DJ who even calls you out. Boos from the crowd. You don’t care about them. You only care about getting Hyeju to safety. She can’t be here in her vulnerable state.

Before she could dash out from your line of vision, you grab her wrist. Seal your grip around it tightly so she can’t escape. “Son Hyeju,” you say, glaring at her. Ever since she stopped crying, she started to play around. This isn’t a game but to her it is. A fun game, to be more precise. “What the fuck is going on?”

“Oooh, you caught…” She burps. Playful giggles spill from her mouth. “... me!” Hyeju gives you a drunken smile and claps for you regardless of her right hand being held into position. 

“Why are you here?”

“Why are you here? See? I can ask stupid q-questions, too!”

You whisk her away from the ongoing party and into the cold night air. You’re about to throw your jacket on her when you see that she’s wearing one, too. 

People are starting to stare. Pray that no one intervenes, even if they have good intentions. After all, you’re a man with a woman under the influence. They have every right to be concerned, but you hope that just for now they know you wouldn’t dare hurt Hyeju.

The wind blows a breeze that almost knocks you to the floor. You draw Hyeju to yourself to warm her. You can’t risk her catching a cold. 

”Let me go, oppa!” Hyeju’s mood goes from sad to drunkenly cheerful to pained. She forces her wrist out from your fist harshly. Your arms no longer wrap her. “You don’t like me anymore, right? And I have a boyfriend!”

Capture her hand again. She can’t escape and run away a second time. You’ve done that too much to know that it’ll send her down into a dizzying spiral. You’re cowards, the both of you—that’s why you flee whenever a problem arises. You don’t know how to deal with it. 

That changes now. Get in your vehicle. Pull her in, too. “For your information,” you say, locking her seatbelt in place, “you called me. You asked me to pick you up.”

The car roars to life and speeds down the road. The night barely provides light for you to move along. It’s beautiful nevertheless. Stars peek out from the depths of black. The moon is dim yet reassuring. What fate does it have in store for you? Would you accept it if you knew? How could they all look so serene while you have your drunk crush next to you starting an argument?

“And you’d loooove not to do it, wouldn’t you?” Hyeju’s words suggest that she’s no longer that drunk but the way her words come out like jumbled words in a newspaper crossword tell you otherwise. She leans against the door and crosses her arms. “It was a mistake to call you. You, you fucking hate me.”

Does she really believe that? You may hate Daniel, but you never once hated Hyeju. You’ve only had wistful feelings for her even after she kissed him. You still checked up on her socials and watched her as she ate lunch with him. You remained loyal to her, like a dog following its owner through scoldings.

Yeah, you really are just her dog.

“I don’t hate you, Hye,” you say with conviction. You’re determined to make her believe that. It’s difficult when you’ve never been the type to be good with words. 

“Yes, you do! You wouldn’t even let me explain why I kissed Daniel!”

“For fuck’s sake, I was hurt! I didn’t know what to do!”

“Then hear me out for once!”

“Alright.” Your hands slap the wheel, unintentionally bumping the horn and causing Hyeju to cringe. “Go on. Tell me what happened.”

“He was the one who kissed me, the fucking idiot! He kissed me out of the blue and wouldn’t stop!”

Wait.

What? 

Daniel, your friend and Hyeju’s, initiated the kiss? Hyeju didn’t want it to happen?

If only you knew, you would have beaten up Daniel a long time ago. 

You can’t even speak. You had it all wrong. You can’t believe there was an explanation for everything and you refused to hear it. 

Hyeju begins to sob again. Her words circle in the air like an incantation. It’s equally because of the alcohol and her emotions. “I was… talking to him about my training, but then he kissed me.” She wipes her face and laughs humorlessly. “He started making out with me and, a-and I didn’t know how to stop it. It was like I was frozen.”

“You… you didn’t kiss him?” Your tone is broken and incredulous. “He made you do it?”

She looks almost offended. “Why? Why would I ever kiss that bastard?”

“But you’re dating him.”

“I am,” says Hyeju, hands in her hair, “Hah, okay. I'm dating him, yeah, but that’s just because I thought you didn’t like me. I only want one person in the world, and it isn’t Daniel Smith.”

“Hyeju—”

“It’s you, you clueless little shit!” She punches your shoulder and muffles her face into your car pillow. Her next scream is elongated, filled with frustration. When she lifts her face from the pillow, her eyeliner and blush are smeared and wet with teardrops. “It’s you, and I only want you!”

In vino veritas.

The confession is as out of the blue as Daniel’s kiss was. You’re in a state of shock and disbelief—too much information is coming into your brain. You want to punch Daniel in the face for shocking her with an unwanted move. You want to hug Hyeju. You want to tell her that you’re sorry for not hearing her side of the story. 

Most importantly, you want to tell her that you want her, too.

It’s too late now. She’s seen you disregard her voice and choose to have a one-track mind. There’s no way she wants you anymore.

“Why the fuck would you ever want me, Hyeju?” 

“Because!” She lets out a shivering little sigh. “You don’t treat me like… hlk, like I’m a trophy to show off. You’re my friend. You know how to be mean but you take care of me even if I’m too moody sometimes. Even if I don’t want to come along with you outside because I’m scared I’ll make myself look stupid in front of you. Even if… even if I love too hard but don’t show that I love you most and that sometimes you take care of me more than my dad does and I know it’s wrong to see you that way when I’m with him now but I really want you to take care of me but still kiss me too if I need it and be okay with me calling you names like ‘daddy’ and still being your best friend besides being my boyfriend… but I know it can’t happen anymore and I ruined everything—”

“Hyeju.”

More tears flow down her face. “—and I know you won’t ever love me the same again but I’ll regret forever, long after we graduate, that I never showed that I loved you, that I was a coward—”

“Hyeju,” you say, gently. Pull over at the university parking lot. You have your finger on her mouth, sealing them to stop her droning. She pauses. She doesn’t do it without breaking down. “Please. Don’t tell me you don’t know it. It’s been happening under your nose every single day.”

“What?” she murmurs, eyes glassy as they connect with yours.

“I like you, too.”

Silence. Several beats go by. They’re too lengthy to be fake. The next nuance confirms that:

Talk about relief. Talk about passion. As if she’s forgetting that a sudden kiss was what opened Pandora’s box, Hyeju grabs your face and does exactly that. Again, it has too many things to it that blocks it from being faux. The unique shape of her lips mold onto yours, as if your lips were made to kiss each other all the time. It’s back to the café again, wherein she does something and you subconsciously follow along. Your hands are on her phenomenal waist. And soon you’re unbuckling her seatbelt so she could sit safely on your lap, where she’s supposed to be. Where she belongs.

She drops her touch to your shoulders. She massages them, and you groan delightfully. Now it’s your turn to hold her face and lean in closer. Hyeju’s mouth tastes of sweetness and alcohol. You don’t know how those two tastes could mix together. Hyeju makes it work.

“Oppa, daddy,” she whimpers. She pulls away. The distance is still close to nothing. “Daddy, I love you.”

It’s a sudden nickname, still detached from when she uses it with you jokingly, yet there’s no hesitance here. You know your truth. “I love you, too, Hyeju.”

“Will you take me to bed?” She starts grinding down on your shaft needily. “Please say you will, daddy. Please say you’ll make me happy.”

“You’re drunk. I… I don’t know if I should.”

“‘m not. Maybe. But I’ve wanted it to happen for a long time,” Hyeju says. “I won’t mind, I promise.”

She couldn’t get any more sober with that. So you do what any man would do if they were called daddy by Son Hyeju: lift her out of your car, not caring to check twice if it’s locked, and bring her to bed. Take her coat off—she won’t need it if you’ll make her warm from the inside and out.

Her arms round your neck and her face is buried in your chest. Her words come out in a desperate, needy tone that you haven’t heard from her since the day you met. Who exactly were you to make her this small?

Her daddy, of course.

See, as tough as Hyeju makes herself out to be, she’s still needy. She still has her own problems that haven’t let go of her now that she’s older, like the daddy thing. You only fully understand it now when you lay her on the bed and continue kissing her. Hard. Her moans call out for you. They aren’t merely things to whine if it feels good. It’s not even a matter of want anymore; her shivers and cries indicate of her carnal need for you to do what you will with her.

“Don’t be scared,” she tells you, closing her eyes as you kiss her perfect jawline. “You wanted me for so long, right? Well, I did, too. Do what you want to me. Fuck me, daddy.”

“You talk extremely dirty for someone who’s drunk,” you chuckle. 

“Not so drunk anymore. You make me sober.”

“Sweet talker. You’re all bark and no bite.”

Hyeju has no retort to make. Your lips on her gorgeous nipple render her speechless. The cute pink nub is hard, and grows harder at your loving suckles. Her breasts are the perfect size for squeezing. Relish in that fact by squeezing her left breast while dedicating more of your attention to the other, making her become sensitive with each action. 

You’d say you have bite, for you do so lightly on her breast. She gasps. “Daddy!” she cries out.

“Fuck, don’t say it like that.” Your cock throbs already. It’s the same feeling you get all those times before, the times you’d get into an argument with Hyeju and she’d call you that.

“What? It’s not my fault you can’t handle me,” she says wittily.

“Don’t try me.”

“What?” She cocks a brow. “Hit too close to home?”

You have to shut her bratty self up. Tug her pants off, sliding them off her silky legs. Her pink panties are a hint to the gentle color of her pussy. Find out about them anyway—push the underwear aside and shove three fingers in her.

“Oh shit.” Hyeju’s squeeze on your digits is instant, like an impulsive reaction. 

Think about if Daniel has done this to her before and pick up the pace. You’re fingering her like the walls of her soaked pussy would banish him and let you have her all to yourself. “Son Hyeju,” you growl, “shut the fuck up.”

“W-won’t—ah!” 

If you don’t make her quiet, you’ll at least reduce her words to pathetic moans. You’d say you’re successful. Your rapid thrusts send Hyeju’s screams paralleling the night wind with their strength. 

You’re surprised again and again at how loud she could get. She’s always so quiet except for the occasional sarcastic remark. She can make no more of those if faced with the relentless fingering you do unto her pussy. They draw out strings of dampness when they withdraw, and fill her right to the knuckles when you go back in. Her hips squirm and you have to place a hand on her thigh to continue.

“Daddy, daddy, daddy!” she screams. Her mouth is open while she sits up to look at what you’re doing to her vulnerable cunt. “It feels so fucking good, don’t stop!”

She looks beautiful. Her shirt is lifted above her breasts, making them bounce madly due to the timing and force of your thrusts. Her eyes could never be more watchful. She can’t believe she actually has you between her legs and fingering her to orgasm.

“Got any comeback for me, Hye?” you ask smugly. 

Hyeju nods. Her lips are parted again. Although you haven’t had sex with her except for now, you know what that dropped jaw means: she’s close.

Her walls are impossible to part completely. She’s too damn tight that you bet she’d still be so with one finger. The grip of her slippery, wet cunt is like no other. You reach deep into it and stroke out till you find the place. That’s how Hyeju starts to shiver. She can’t manage it.

“Oh, yeah? What do you have to say now, sweet?” Wrap your lips around her nipple. It’s another one of your unfair advantages over her.

“I-I-I—I can’t!” 

The recoil of Hyeju’s tits is amazing. Harshly squeeze the boob you’ve relatively neglected to make sure she can’t get a word out of those pretty lips. Take a further step and smack it, too. She moans in satisfaction. Your harsh squeezes imprint a replica of your hand on her pale skin. 

Of course, you don’t forget to keep your fingers going. You change techniques now and then, switching from gentle circling to rapid fire shoving. Whether it’s one or the other, Hyeju’s fuckhole swallows you up. She doesn’t mind which or what; she needs your harshness the most. It’s what counts as a whole.

“Daddy, I’m gonna cum! Please make me cum on your fingers, make your babygirl cum… oh—oh, fuck!”

Combined with your thumb nudging her small clit and your digits absolutely destroying her tightness, Hyeju does the unthinkable: she squirts on your hand and on your bed. Liquid gushes on your shirt; it’s so consistent and clear that a new determination is founded within you. It’s to make your unbearably hot best friend cum like she never has.

For the record, it’s the first time you’ve made a girl squirt. You didn’t expect that it would be this satisfying. Seeing Hyeju’s blissful face and the shake of her beautiful legs make your efforts worth it. Watching yourself do it to your best friend and make her feisty, boyish self let out screams and pleas brings increased triumph.

“No, oh god, it’s too much!” Hyeju says this but her legs part more. Her head is tossed back and her moans don’t stop. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, I can’t—daddy!”

“Messy little brat.” Rub away at her clit. Feel the spurt of her cum hit your finger. “That’s it, cum for daddy. Keep those pretty thighs open.”

Hyeju mewls at the mixture of degradation and moans. If Daniel had said that to her, she probably would have thrown up in a bucket. When it’s you, on the other hand, everything changes. She wants you to call her every harsh name out there and accompany it with sides of praise. She’ll only feel this good when she’s with you.

Hyeju is anything but obedient. Things change here in the dorm, where her pussy is spread and prone to your touch. Her midriff, soft yet slender, rises over and over. The hose of her wet orgasms still hasn’t stopped.

“Goddammit, you’re squirting so much. Am I that good, hm, Hyeju? Is daddy that good to his pretty little girl?” 

“Mmm, mmm, don't— no more, daddy, no more!” Hyeju’s core is already spent, and you haven’t even put your cock in her yet. 

Stop. Not before you leave a kiss to the sensitive bundle of nerves that you abused. It’s a mark now, something invisible that subtly says to everyone that you got to fuck her. You got to fuck Son Hyeju. You made her cum like never before.

Spit on Hyeju’s center then spread it to her lips and nub. She moans. “You’re so wet, Hye.”

“Whatever.” She’s blushing. “I’ve had better.”

You have to say you’re a little provoked. You know it’s false seeing the smug look on her face and after making her squirt, but who exactly has done her better? Daniel? Definitely not him. The possibility still does well to spur you to jealousy.

“Oh,” you say, smiling tightly, “so that’s how it’s gonna be, huh?”

Hyeju gasps happily when she’s pushed to the wall and on her knees. It’s reminiscent of how Daniel did exactly that: pinning her to the wall before kissing her. Your anger brews into a fire just thinking about him. 

“Yeah. What’re you gonna do about it?”

Unbuckle your belt. Your jeans join it on the floor as well as your briefs. “I’m gonna clean that dirty mouth of yours.”

“And how are you gonna do that, daddy?” Hyeju pretends not to know what’s coming.

It’s your belief that actions speak louder than words. That’s why when you place your cock in between Hyeju’s lips, it resonates inside her more than your promise to purify her mouth. Logic fails here when dirty sins can’t remove Hyeju’s dirty words. One wrong and another doesn’t make a right. Oh, who cares? This isn’t a class. This isn’t your thesis. You focus only on feeling the softness of her triangular mouth, the wetness of the back of her throat.

Holding your cock by the base, you lead its tip into rubbing every corner of Hyeju’s mouth. Her cheeks make an outline of your girth as you press your head against them. Her jaw becomes slack after you press your dick down to her tongue. You’re technically doing all the work here because you’re fucking her face, but you’d argue that Hyeju contributes just as much with her tearful eyes that are more puppy than wolf.

The shape of her wet orifice leaves ample space for you to rub against everything. Your tip draws a triangle on her lips right before slipping inside. There you keep your word and clean her dirty mouth. Push those naughty words down her throat with immediate thrusts. That way, she can only moan, nothing else. No sass can be heard from her now.

“You’re such a bad girl, Hyeju,” you say. Curl your hand ‘round her messy hair and direct it downwards. She groans, her mouth now upright for yout fuck easier into. “You shouldn’t like having your mouth used like this. You shouldn’t be on your knees for your best friend when your boyfriend’s waiting for you at home.”

Hyeju knows you’re right. She shouldn’t. She isn’t supposed to enjoy having her throat rammed and spread. She shouldn’t be cheating on the man she claims to love. It’s a mistake of hers to be here anyway, underneath another man. 

Her second mistake is to like everything the way it is..

Her third is to tongue your shaft like she would a sweet treat. She wants to taste all of you, from your thick tip to the base. She’s not had much to work on with Daniel, but she knew it would be a good time when you sprung out your cock. She makes this worth it—she seals her lips at your base, her nose pressed firmly at the bottom of your tummy, then produces such a harsh suction that the grip you have in her black locks of messy hair tightens. A curse is what you let out besides precum. 

“Fuck,” you say. Pull her head closer. Aggressive thrusts fire away. “Didn’t know your pouty little lips could suck dick so well. I bet it’s bulging your throat. Is daddy right about that?”

She tries to nod. Her gags stop her intended action; your thrusts have sped up and are now destroying her tight throat. No space is left for her to breathe when her mouth is stuffed with your length. Even her nostrils can’t take in much air if her nose is pressed that tightly to your stomach.

Place a hand on the wall in order for there to be no aches for her head when you thrust wildly. “You know, I changed my mind. Maybe you’re a good girl, especially with that face. Go on, touch yourself. I know you want to.”

Permission is granted by her daddy. Hyeju gives a cry in response then leads her hand between her legs. Letting you fuck her face has made her wet beyond imagination. She doesn’t need to press directly on her pussy when there’s slick all over her thighs. She gathers them all up and places them back in her pussy. She moans as she swirls her digits inside her. Here’s how it works: she has one hand masturbating, and the other on your thigh to caress it and at the same time keep her balance.

Take note of that. “You’re a smart girl, Hyeju. Smart girls shouldn’t be letting their faces get fucked. We can’t have that happen, right?”

You say that yet your actions tell a different story. Your violent pumps into Hyeju’s mouth to use it to the limits are endless. Hyeju’s moaning. She enjoys it more than she should. Of course, you jam those moans, as pretty as they are, down her throat. 

Slap your cock on her lips.

“You know what I mean.”

Slip the whole of your length out then in again. Make her brush those luscious lips against every inch.

“We really, really can’t have that happen.”

Caress her cheek. Her eyes are awaiting and obedient. Look down into them and almost feel bad for ruining her, your best friend.

“Daniel might walk in anytime. He’ll be looking for you.”

Your movements are cruel as time goes by. You shouldn’t be treating your best friend like this. You shouldn’t even be having sex with her. All of these ought to stop you in your tracks—you don’t.

“And what will he say when he sees his precious girlfriend on her knees for his best friend?”

Hyeju begins to whine. She doesn’t want him to walk in; she’s enjoying this too much. What she doesn’t want to happen even more is for you not to blow your load inside her warm throat. People can’t have what they want all the time, but she swears she won’t want anything else if you just give her what she wants. That’s for you to absolutely use her. Be cruel to her and it wouldn’t sting.

“He’ll start to think how better you are with me. You’re a bad girl, Hyeju. You know that and you still want me.”

You’re right in every way. She is better with you. You just fuck her better, treat her better, kiss her better. She can’t kiss better the wound she’ll leave in Daniel if he just so happens to walk in. Maybe she could, but she’d put salt on it when he discovers how good you make her feel. It isn’t fair to anybody. To you, the one she accidentally hurt; to Daniel, who was the one (no, make that the two with how he was her last resort and how she gave him false hope); to her, who can’t go without you.

“Let go.”

Nine.

It takes exactly nine strokes in between her folds for her to cum. Drool sheens your girth. Some even drip from her mouth. It’s like she’s in heat; she’s whining as she tries to cum and suck you off at the same time. Hyeju ends up sucking your shaft with desperation, legs quivering and threatening to give away.

“Cum with me, Hyeju,” you command her. Pull out, rather regretfully, but take comfort with how pretty she’d look covered in your cum. Your hand wraps around you and jerks you off. Although it can’t match Hyeju’s mouth or her ass, it’ll do well in shooting your load on her.

Your best friend keeps calling your name squeezed between “daddy”s as she fingers herself to orgasm. She collapses pathetically on the floor, in a pool of sweat and cum. Her shirt and the floor of your shared dorm room are stained. No need to wonder where those white stains come from; the only suspects are you and Hyeju. It’s a partnered crime for her squirt comes out at such a velocity that it rivals your cumshots.

“Take my load, Hyeju, fuck!”

If there’s anything Hyeju isn’t, it’s submissive. It somehow changes when she nods and opens her mouth. You’re introduced to a whole new side of her. Her post-orgasm face is one you hope to admire everyday. Look at the expressions she makes when her eyes are crossed and her tongue is out for you and you have difficulty choosing between the two. 

You and Hyeju exchange a tired look. If you’re to be specific, a look is how everything starts. You became friends with her because she was staring at you too long a time in class. You quickly reunited with her in college when you looked to your back to see to whom the familiar voice belonged. It took one quick glance to see that Daniel had kissed her in the noraebang.

Similarly, a look is what causes you to shamelessly throw Hyeju on the bed again. By now her limbs curl into yours like this were a completely natural thing that happened between you, as if she were always being fucked and manhandled like this. Your kisses now are more aggressive, too. They aren’t nervous like earlier, when you still weren't sure if doing this was right. Hyeju responds by engaging in a battle for dominance, pushing forward and pulling the forces connecting you. 

You win in the end.

Slam her back down to the mattress. Her anticipation is written clearly in her eyes. “I’m going to ruin you, Son Hyeju,” you say.

She laughs in your face. “Bet.”

Alright. You’ll show her. It’s a friendly bet you’ll take all seriousness in.

Align your dick with her waiting cunt. You shed all attempts to tease her or dive into foreplay. What she needs is your cock inside her, rearranging her insides. If that’s so, you’ll give it to her. 

“Oh!” Hyeju gasps. Her pretty eyes are big above her hands covering her face. She never guessed you would feel this good inside her. “You’re so fucking big, daddy. It's, it’s better than I imagined, fffuck.”

Steer all your weight into this thrust specifically. Your tip makes contact with her G-spot and sends her legs shaking. Send her a couple inches further on the mattress. Her godly tits begin another round of bouncing. There’s no other routine you’d love to watch. 

Already you've put your hands on her hips. They’re to pull her closer if she gets lost. Again. You have to make sure you won’t lose her this time. This chance was given to you for a reason. You have to keep her here, show her all the love you’ve kept bottled up all these years.

Hyeju squirms a lot. That’s what your grip is for. It’s to keep her on the bed so she can easily receive your pumps. And what a good job she does at receiving them—Hyeju’s hips shiver as they’re subjected to a force her sensitive pussy can’t handle. She’s always going into things she can’t handle. This is no different. Time with Daniel was okay, but you’re a different story. You ensure that she’s always filled to the hilt until she’s bottoming out. 

Deeper and deeper you go. Your cock knocks up into her tummy. You curse; it’s hotter than it’s supposed to be. Something as simple as that shouldn’t be so arousing.

“Oh, you like that? You… you like seeing your big cock stuffing my little pussy?” asks Hyeju. Her teeth are parted to let in air she so desperately needs to formulate these words. She knows they’ll turn you on. “I know you do, daddy. Look at your meat ruining my insides. You’re going to cum so much inside me. And I’ll take it all. I’m a good girl. I’ll show you I’m a good girl.”

She leads your hand to her throat and closes your digits around it. Get the message. Squeeze there tight. Her strangled gasp is everything.

“You are, huh?” you say. Your composure is long gone. “Are you always this tight, Hyeju? Are you always this good? Or is it just for daddy?”

There’s something incredibly hot in the way Hyeju gushes and screams for you. Her nipples stand in the air, aroused by the quick penetrating done to her pussy. It seems almost impossible for her to be this wet. Each push of your hips brings forth a gush of wetness that wets the sheets and your joined crotches. Bring out your cock for a second to quickly flick its tip on her clit.

Hyeju gropes her own chest with closed eyes. “Ohhhh, fuck!” 

Return to your routine of drilling her. Her whole body reacts violently to your pounding. Moreover, every part of Hyeju’s beautiful body screams to be touched. Her jiggling thighs and breasts, her midriff prone to your thrusts, her face that’s never looked this slutty… where should you start? Your touch is given multiple choices, and you choose all of them. Your hands roam her body and squeeze and feel and grope. In response, she moans. The volume of her acute voice turns up with each, almost like her body has triggers that would draw out louder sounds. 

You think of it that way and now Hyeju’s screaming as you propel inside her while keeping a hand on her clit. 

“Daddy, o-only you, daddy!” she proclaims in a helpless scream. “No one can make me feel as good as you do, just keep fucking me, don’t stop!”

You’ve got your answer. Smile in satisfaction and, since she’s a good girl and gave the correct response, lean it to worship her breasts. Does slapping them count as worshiping? Hyeju thinks it does—her high groans and yells are enough to be context clues. You marvel at the size of her chest, so subtle with the baggy clothes she wears but now in their full, naked glory before you. It’s impossible for them to be presented to you without a squeeze being done.

“You like my tits, daddy? I’ll let you fuck them all you want, just finish inside me. I’m safe today. Promise, p-pro—”

Bury yourself deep inside her, to the point that your cockhead pushes at her cervix. Fill her up. Hyeju moans happily. She rolls her body up and down. The stimulation seduces you into making (kind of) breeding her a job well done.

“Thank you, daddy.” she sighs. She’s still erotically grinding her hips. It’s karma for overstimulating her a little earlier when your fingers filled her. 

“S-stop, Hyeju.”

“Stop? Alright, sure. I think that’s enough now. Daddy doesn’t want to fuck my tits anymore.”

Naughty little brat. She knows just the right words to tick you off and turn you on. It makes you want her to pound her into the bed again so that not even the old mattress can forget that it was the place you and Hyeju fucked.

“I’m just kidding, silly. Sit down! Yes, thank you.” 

She flashes you a smile after you do as she says. It’s a rare moment in this session with her that she has the say in what happens. Somehow. It can’t be completely true, not when she’s on her knees again for you. Not when her tongue trails worshipful lines on your cock and draws tight licks on your tip. Shiver. You’re a bit sensitive yourself.

“Now see how good this feels?” 

She takes her glorious breasts in her hands and wraps them around your cock. You let out a guttural moan. Hyeju’s tits rival her mouth and pussy. It’s a close competition, with the advantage of softness most of all. Oh, when she starts to move, gliding her supple skin up and down your size, you almost cum on the spot.

Her bosom is a portal to heaven, you swear. Your legs feel light. Your core is hot as your size disappears between her breasts, buried in the soft and safe haven she provides. The friction is so overwhelming that you doubt it could even be a real sensation.

She makes a show of rubbing your tip on her nipple, similar to what you did to her clit. The two of you are sensitive, so you moan in harmony as it happens. After gliding your cock on her large breasts, she goes back to titfucking you. 

It’s all a matter of technique. Whenever she presses her chest together, your cock is suffocated with euphoric tenderness. On the other hand, when she simply moves up and down, you’re given the opportunity to grind down at the skin between her pale breasts. Each route leads to an inevitable fate: exploding all over her a second time.

"P-please stop, Hyeju," you say. You can't handle no more and there's so many more things you want to do to her.

"Awh." She pouts. Fat tears risk spilling from her eyes. God, she could be so cute sometimes. "What do you want, daddy? I can be good."

"Turn around."

"Ohhh, I see what you want." Hyeju turns around and spanks herself. Her ass ripples photogenically. "Of course. Of course you want it."

Hyeju can be so many things. A few minutes earlier she was a submissive babygirl for her daddy, and right before that she was a brat. Now, she transforms into a seductress. She doesn't lace or lingerie to become one. She has that fantastic body to do the work for her.

Hyeju starts to dance. Your eyes are trained on her. They never want to see anything else than her swaying her butt with a dancer's grace and charm. 

"Giving me a show, huh?" 

"Unless daddy wants it already." 

"I do."

She squeezes her ass cheek before reaching her pussy. Then, she rubs her wetness on her pink, puckered hole. She lathers some at the inside of the rim, too. She didn't expect to fuck you today, no matter how many times she's dreamed of it, so there's no lubricant around. Hyeju has to make do.

"Oh!" she squeals when you give her a playful smack on the ass. "Impatient. Daddy's impatient. Don't worry, I'll give it to you."

“You did this before?”

“Duh.” Hyeju smiles sweetly, quickly returning to her good girl side. “You ready now, daddy?”

Apparently, it’s a rhetorical question, for Hyeju immediately guides your tip into her backside. You do your part in spreading her cheeks. Both of you moan at the first contact. It’s difficult by itself to insert just your tip through. She’s too tight. 

You’re sinking into this long-chased dream. You’ve seen Hyeju walk around the dorm with no shorts on. Sometimes you're able to catch a glimpse of her bare ass when she dresses up in the dark. It’s normal when it’s with you, considering that your friendship transcends time, but she doesn’t know that yearning’s been put in your heart in those moments. You want her. You want Son Hyeju.

And now, she’s submitting herself to you. She’s given you her body, her tits, her pussy. Now she offers you an equally delicious choice: her supple ass that’s bouncy as it finally sits down completely on your lap. 

“Good daddies bounce their babygirls on their knees, right? Should’ve known that, dummy. So come on, pound me. It isn’t hard.”

Well, you are. Hyeju’s ass is constricting you yet you enjoy every second of it. Her tight little asshole clings to you as you do as she says. You’d do anything for Hyeju, and that doesn’t exclude engaging in anal sex with her.

Choose a rhythm to go by to enjoy the tightness Hyeju gives you to the fullest. She leans into you and hums quietly, lower lip worried between her teeth and ass steadily rising and resting. The flexes of your thigh also stimulate her needy pussy. Your knee brushes her clit steadily while your cock penetrates her asshole better than any toy could. Better than any boy would.

“Oh, that feels so good, daddy…” Hyeju murmurs. “Keep spreading me like that, yes.”

Just when she thought you’d switch to being gentle, your thrusts become sporadic. She can’t find which timings you’re going by. The calm before the storm, so to say. Hyeju’s whimpers and whines are your thunder, and they soon live up to their name when they grow louder, filling your ears as would the violent downpour of raindrops. 

“D-daddy, daddy, oh my god—” Pain partners up with pleasure in wrecking her hole. Darn you for reaching in front of her to rub her clit as well. Too many things are happening at the same time. “Daddy better make me cum, please, please—”

Your size fills the tight space of her ass so much that it’s difficult to move. The juices of her pussy that she’s used as makeshift lube can’t even do the job they’re assigned to. However, you don’t care about that. You simply fuck Hyeju’s fat, delectable ass like it’s been your long-term dream. In a way it is, but you’d be dreaming about it long after it’s already been fulfilled.

Hyeju stands up to take the lead and work her butt on you. You know she’s an excellent dancer but you never knew she could be this good at twerking either. 

“Holy shit, Hyeju, your little asshole feels amazing,” you moan. Spank her, though she’s undeserving of punishment when she’s amazing at using that ass.

“And your cock is so fucking big in my ass,” she says. “I don’t want anything else, daddy. Ohh, god, keep doing that.”

Her rear end bounces and claps together as they take in your fat cock. She looks back at you lustfully, watching you ruin her supple ass. Reach for her breasts to match the velocity of her thrusts. You’re two forces colliding, each filled with fire to defeat the other with pleasure. It’s a losing game when Hyeju’s ass is just as good as her pussy, which you continue playing with to bring her to orgasm.

“Good girl, Hye, keep bouncing that fat ass on daddy,” you whisper in her ear. Love to hear her weak little moans; they show you that she likes this as much as you do. Probably more. “You want to cum, right? You want to squirt on me again?”

“Yes, daddy, please!” Hyeju is in paradise although her skin feels like it’s been set on fire. She hasn’t felt this good before. “No other cock can do me the way you do, daddy, I’m all yours! Make me cum, cum inside me, daddy!”

You’ve changed her. She’s a totally different person outside of the bedroom. She hides her approval in sarcastic comments and teases you about them. How is it that she’s completely submissive and good for you? 

Your ego swells. Smack her pussy just enough to make her gasp. “Whose pussy is this?”

“Yours, daddy!” 

“And this ass?”

“It’s all yours, daddy,” sobs Hyeju. “Always so fucking big inside me, so much better, you need to make me cum—”

Pull her down to your lap then thrust inside her all while not letting an inch withdraw from her snug butthole. “Cum for me,” you say.

“Ohhhh fuck!” 

Hyeju begins her sexy body rolls again as a profane spray of clear liquid fires from her pussy. She’s so wet; when you rub her clit, a squelching sound is produced. She’s too turned on from the feeling of you savage pounding inside her. She slaps her own pussy to go along with your rubbing, then leads your fingers inside her cunt again. She’s still so tight. 

The combined feeling of two of her holes being violated has her tired. She could be murmuring a spell and you wouldn’t know because of how jumbled and jarred her words are. The syllables make out your name and title. At least, that’s what you could understand. It would take an experienced veteran transcriber to make sense of Hyeju’s sounds.

You blast her ass with so much cum that it overflows, like water threatening to spill from the brim of a glass. Your joined cores are so wet and sticky that neither of you feel like moving. You want to stay in the narrow yet pleasurable comfort of each other’s touch forever.

It’s so pleasant that you could only hear the gratifying sound of each other’s pants and not the knocks on your door.

So safe that you don’t hear the sound of a lock being skewered with because each other’s bodies are more homely than this dorm.

So distracting that when he comes in through the door and yells in disgust, it’s the first time you feel an awakening sobriety.

#kpop smut #idol smut #girl group smut #female idol smut #loona smut #loossemble smut #olivia hye smut #loona olivia hye smut #son hyeju smut #son hyejoo smut #hyeju smut #hyejoo smut #loossemble hyeju smut #male reader #x reader #idol x male reader #idol x reader #reader insert #pov smut #kofimission #commission

[harunayuuka2060]

Asmo: Hon? Is there a reason why you keep on staring onto the ceiling?

MC: ...

Asmo: ...

Satan: They're not going to answer you, Asmo. *flipping the page on his book*

Asmo: How can you be so calm? MC's awake, but they're ignoring us.

Satan: It's better this way. At least we know they're aware and conscious.

Asmo: ...

Asmo: Satan, are you alright?

Satan: Yes. Why do you ask?

Asmo: Nothing... Just...

Asmo: ...

Satan: You're on kitchen duty today. You should be going now.

Asmo: ...

Asmo: Okay. *looks at MC before he heads outside* Hon? Is there something you like? I'll cook it for you.

MC: ...

Asmo: ...

Asmo: O-Oh... Okay. I'll just bring you something... *then leaves the room*

Satan: ...

Satan: MC, is it really difficult for you to acknowledge that we're here?

MC: ...

MC: *slowly turns their head at him*

MC: I would appreciate it if you wouldn't bother me while I'm communicating with the owner. You're being disrespectful right now.

Satan: !!!

MC: Ah. Right. You all are so used to being pampered that you thought your needs are more important than anybody.

Satan: MC—

MC: They shouldn't have created a path for you to walk on.

MC: When you have led them to a dead end.

MC: *stops then stares back at the ceiling*

Satan: ...

Lucifer: Solomon.

Solomon: Yes, I've heard.

Lucifer: I think it would be easier now to fix them. MC has a sudden change in personality, but it is not an issue to any of us.

Solomon: ...

Lucifer: ...

Lucifer: Solomon.

Solomon: Sorry. I was thinking about something.

Lucifer: ...

Lucifer: Is it still about Thirteen?

Solomon: Yes.

Lucifer: Once Thirteen sees the improvement of MC's condition, I'm sure she will have the change of heart.

Solomon: I really hope so.

Diavolo: I'm not surprised. *after Lucifer told him that the relationship between Solomon and Thirteen had been ruined*

Lucifer: But then, sacrifices have to be made.

Barbatos: ...

Diavolo: Barbatos? Is there something wrong? You have been silent for a while.

Barbatos: It's nothing, young master.

Lucifer: ...

Lucifer: By the way, Diavolo. MC has been acknowledging me day by day. They would follow me with their gaze even though I disappeared from their sight. *smiles in satisfaction*

Diavolo: Ah! That seems like a great news!

Lucifer: Indeed it was.

Barbatos: ...

MC: *smiles to themselves*

Luke: MC?

MC: Ah, Luke. Is there something I can help you with?

Luke: No. *smiles* But I noticed that you were smiling.

MC: Well, I just feel happy to be able to talk to you like this again, Luke. *ruffling his hair*

Luke: *giggles*

Simeon: Luke?

Luke: !!!

Luke: S-Simeon?!

Simeon: *who has entered the room, confused* *looks around* Were you talking to someone?

Luke: Yes! MC has returned!

Simeon: ...

Simeon: Luke. *then smiles at him understandably*

Simeon: Should we go to the garden?

Luke: Hm! *looking at MC* You should go with us, MC!

Simeon: Luke. *kneels in front of him* You're free to think and believe that MC is here. If that helps you to feel better.

Luke: What are you talking about? MC is really here, Simeon!

MC: ...

Simeon: Luke—

Luke: MC is standing next to you! Why are you ignoring them?!

Simeon: Luke—

MC: Luke. *shakes their head*

Luke: But—

MC: He will not be able to see me.

Luke: *his eyes widened*

Simeon: Luke?

Luke: ...

Luke: Sorry, Simeon. I'll just stay here...

Simeon: I see... Well then. *stood up and leaves the room*

Luke: ...

Luke: Why can't he?

MC: *kneels in front of him; holding both of his hands*

MC: Simeon has given me peace. *smiling*

Luke: Are you not only saying that so I wouldn't be mad at him? Because to me, he has decided to forget you.

MC: I'll be honest to you... I don't think I'll be able to face him anyway.

Luke: ...

Luke: So if I had accepted that you were gone—

MC: Yes.

Luke: ...

Luke: I'm glad that I didn't.

MC: *holds his cheek with one hand* *smiles kindly to him*

MC: ...

MC: *murmurs*

Beel: *who's in charge of watching over them*

Beel: Is the real MC in danger?

MC: *looks at him*

MC: ...

MC: I'm surprised. You're different from the others.

Beel: ...

Beel: I had been with MC for quite some while.

Beel: So... You said something earlier. You said that they should be careful.

MC: Yes. I think that if they stay up there for much longer, there will be nothing left.

Beel: Up... there?

MC: Hm-hm. Up there.

MC: There's danger.

Beel: ...

Beel: How sure are you?

MC: ...

MC: *smiling for the first time* *but in an eerie way*

MC: I could feel it.

MC: The same thing they felt before.

MC: But much worse. *laughs*

Beel: !!!

Raphael: Michael, there's something I would like to—

Michael: *dancing to a doll that has an uncanny resemblance to MC*

Raphael: ...

Michael: Have you found them?

Raphael: ...No.

Michael: What a pity.

Raphael: What is that, Michael?

Michael: A new body of theirs. But this is nothing more than a cage for them that I designed.

Michael: Looks beautiful, doesn't it?

Raphael: ...

Raphael: Why would you need something like that?

Michael: Hm? I need something for them to trap to. Isn't that obvious?

Michael: Oh. You don't need to worry.

Michael: I made sure it wouldn't be like the first one we had.

Raphael: But this is—

Michael: *pulls the doll closed to him* This one might look fragile, but they will never be able to break this one.

Raphael: ...

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me mc #obey me lucifer #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me satan #obey me beel #obey me solomon #obey me luke #obey me simeon #obey me raphael #obey me michael #obey me asmo

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I tried to covertly exclude one of my friends from game nights ? 🎮🎧📞

tw: disordered eating, self harm

I've got a discord friend group of about 15 people though only 10 or so are regularly active and game nights often are usually around 6 people but they rotate who participates often. We're all in the 20s and mostly nonbinary / genderqueer / trans one way or another. I'm 25 ftm personally (they them) and the friend this is about in particular is 22mtf (she/they).

Friend is really excited to hit the 1 year marker in her transition and loves sharing how excited she is about her progress - how strangers at her job are gendering her correctly more and more often, how her cup sizes are growing, how much weight she's lost, wardrobe updates, getting to learn girl things from their very supportive mom, etc etc etc. It's all very exciting, I remember hitting my 1 year marker and i'm genuinely really happy for her.

The thing is I struggled with disordered eating in the past. Several others in our friend group have as well and it's something we've talked about both in related and unrelated convos to this issue. Friend keeps an excel spreadsheet with her measurements from bust to hips to weight and will update us frequently whether we've expressed interest in hearing the exact numbers or not. Exact Numbers was one of the things I kept track of and hearing her tracking them (for very different reasons) will often set me off and i'll start taking more and more unhealthy actions, falling back into disordered habits.

Friend has adhd and very poor impulse control. She often joins conversations and talks over people, completely changes conversational topics on a dime, or forgets who is in a call at any moment and brings up someone's triggers. She'll almost always apologize if someone mentions a social mistake she's made, but because the weight/food intake/number watching is so important to them as a way to track their transition it's the one thing that keeps coming back and back and back. I and the others have tried talking in voice calls, mentioning in text chats in the group and even DMing her but because of the topic and this group being the friend group she feels safest in (we were all the first to know and hyped them up on the hrt journey) these are some convos she only gets to have here

and because of the topic, i feel rude or embarrassed when I have to say "hey can we not talk about this right now or i'm gonna have to leave". So on most nights if it comes up I'll just deafen / go afk / just zone out entirely until the conversation has passed. If it doesn't seem like it's going to or they are so in depth that it's genuinely triggering a self harm response i'll fully leave instead so she can keep having her fun and get excited

Game nights are different though

I'm usually the host of game night and so can pick when we play our silly little games. Obviously people can and do still hangout and do things together Not on specific game nights, and we all do, but game nights are my thing. We play party games over discord or multiplayer competition games or lately have been getting into games like content warning and lethal company when there's 4 or sometimes 5 of us (either someone wants to hang out but only watch or we rotate around who plays round by round)

Friend is often working in the evenings and so bc this is an online friend group they don't actually know my work schedule. We usually only have about half the total number of participants be around for game night anyways, so I've been thinking of occasionally lining up game nights for nights when she's mentioned being busy by saying i work the other nights - but only sometimes. I do really like friend. She can be so much fun to hang out with, excitingly competitive and with interesting knowledge to share and generally a good sport no matter the actual game we're playing. But sometimes the worry about the triggering and the trigginering itself are too much. sometimes i just can't handle when she does it and knowing i can't leave and asking her to stop expressing her joy makes me feel like an asshole anyways so i don't want to be around it.

To be clear. I do not think they are an asshole. Friend is genuinely one of my friends. I like her and hanging out with her. they do not trigger me (or any of the others w this same trigger) maliciously. this is solely would I be the asshole.

TLDR: My friends way of tracking her transition sometimes triggers my eating disorder. would I be the asshole for planning game nights that I host and cannot leave / tune out conversations during so that she cannot attend as often in hopes that I am not triggered as often?

#aita #am i the asshole #eating disorder cw #self harm cw