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xxsycamore · 5 months

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SEXY AFFAIRS

╰┈➤ 💜 Amahiko is late and condemns you to bathing alone, something unheard of in this sharehouse. It's his duty as World Sexy Ambassador to make it up to you and to properly apologise.

Tendo Amahiko x Gender Neutral Reader • rating: E (MDNI) • tags: no pronouns or stated genitalia for reader; reader bottoms; Sharing Clothes; Scent Kink; Established Relationship; Neck Kissing; Groping; Making Out; Size Kink; Penis Size; Muscles; Hair Kink; Fluff; Pole Dancing; Strip Tease; Blow Jobs; Sex Positions; Sex Positive; Sloppy Makeouts; Lube; Fingerfucking; Hand & Finger Kink; Creampie; Come Eating; Humor; Aftercare • wordcount: 4,645 • masterlist

a/n: This started out as something unserious but here we are 4,6k words later... Happy Sexy Birthday Amahiko

It's late in the afternoon when Amahiko finally returns home.

He'd promised you to return earlier today, and here he got caught in his business outside yet again... Despite the evident haste in his demeanor as he enters the living room, he stops to properly greet his housemates Terra and Iori.

As Iori immediately appears behind Amahiko to take his jacket for him, Amahiko worriedly asks if anyone knows where you are.

"In the bathroom. But it should be any second now that-"

Like clockwork, just as Amahiko looks in the direction of the door, it opens to reveal you stepping into the living room.

"Amahiko, you're back! I knew my Amahiko-radar could be trusted! Welcome home!"

"…You just heard his voice, didn't you."

Terra's comment remains unnoticed as you and Amahiko rush at each other for a welcome hug, ignoring the rest of the world around you.

"Thank you. I'm truly sorry for making you wait and returning home late. I hope you can forgive me."

Your heart is softened by the pure regret in his baby blue eyes, the worry painted across his features as well as the gentle hold of his large hands as he takes yours in them to emphasize his humble apology. You gawk and smile widely at him, reassuring him readily.

"Of course I forgive you! But truth to be told… I just had the loneliest bath in the world without you. I had forgotten how cold and lonely a bathtub could be without you in it. It wasn't sexy at all…"

Amahiko gasps, and his thick eyebrows arch in a frown.

"I'm such a fool."

Averting his gaze in shame, it's only then that he notices what you're wearing.

"Is this my…?"

You nod somewhat shyly, tugging the clothing tighter around you and nuzzling into it.

"Your bathrobe, yes… actually… I used your shampoo too, and your bodywash…! Alas… the scent of Amahiko was with me, but Amahiko himself still was not."

Touched as he is right now, aside from producing a small, sincere moan, Amahiko's own words betray him as he can only sink to his knees in a deep bow.

"I'm awfully sorry to have done that to you. In the future, I promise that this Tendo Amahiko will do his best so that you can never bathe alone again!"

Holding your hands over your mouth in shock at his heartfelt apology, you hurriedly tell him to get up. Meanwhile Terra whom both of you have forgotten that is still there, joins in the conversation not paying much mind to the intense exchange happening in front of him.

"So does that mean that you two are exclusive right now?"

Amahiko, now back on his feet, turns to face Terra with a relaxed smile. "No, that isn't correct. The right term would be that we are in a polyamorous relationship with all the perverts in the world."

"I wish I didn’t ask."

You tug at Amahiko's sleeve to catch his attention once more. "Never mind me waiting for you Amahiko, I think you have a bigger problem to worry about! With you being out for so long, the sexy levels seem to have dropped drastically around here! Here I thought I could save the situation wearing your sexy bathrobe but I'm afraid that's a job for the 𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕝𝕕 𝕊𝕖𝕩𝕪 𝔸𝕞𝕓𝕒𝕤𝕤𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕣 to take care of."

Amahiko listens carefully to your concerns, and only as you say these three words do the smile appear back on his face. With newfound confidence, he holds his head high and gives a firm nod.

A familiar melody plays out of nowhere, making everyone turn their head around in search of a pole coming up from the ground. With the impressive number of poles installed in the sharehouse, one could never be quite prepared for the location of the next pole dance show. But given the way the music sounds muffled, as if coming from another room, it would most likely not be here.

"I have not forgotten my duty. Tonight too, thank you for appointing me. However, I'm afraid I cannot take on this mission alone if I want to achieve great results."

Amahiko looks straight at you, stretching out his hand, waiting for you to put your own on top of it.

"Without further ado, let's go. We have sexy affairs to take care of."

Fascinated out of your mind, you snap out of the trance, determinedly accepting his offer. Hand in hand, you and Amahiko bid the others goodbye as you take off in the direction of Amahiko's room, which seems to be the source of the music.

The living room gets comparatively quiet once again.

Terra lets out a sigh, turning the page of his magazine and returning to his usual radiant smile as he's beyond letting any obstacles in the way of his leisure time.

"Iori, come here and cover my ears with your hands for the next two hours."

"Haaai~!"

Once inside Amahiko's room, you're greeted by alluring lights flashing from above, a lone pole waiting in the middle of the room. Albeit Amahiko enters right behind you, he remains with his hand on the handle.

"Should we keep the door open? That way the air of our combined sexiness could reach the others better."

"Amahiko…" You feel your cheeks heating up, putting your own hand ontop of his and slowly pushing the door until it closes with a soft click. Seeing your display of shyness, Amahiko can't help himself. He pins you to the now-closed door, getting a soft gasp out of you. He's so close suddenly, his warm breath fanning over your freshly bathed skin where the waterdrops had just cooled it off. But just before his lips could touch you anywhere, on your nape, or your chin, or on your own parted mouth anticipating his kiss, he halts his ministrations and withdraws.

"I have something to tell you before we begin. Earlier, you said that you couldn't do anything about the lowered sexy levels even while wearing my bathrobe. That's simply not right. For you are…the sexiest sight I've seen."

You're not sure if it's because of you forgetting how to breathe for a moment or the music truly just slowed down, adopting a sultrier tone to it, as if to match the scene of his confession.

"Oh…Amahiko…"

Burying his nose into the crook of your neck, Amahiko breathes in a lungful of your scent, that actually belongs to him to begin with.

"To think you'd bathe yourself in my scent… you're bold and mischievous. Don't you know by the time we finish here, you'd smell like me no matter what?"

"Ahh-" You let out a moan too early, solely at the way he's already making love to you with his words alone, but your next moan is caused by something way more tangible. The hotness of his breath has nothing on the hotness of his tongue, as he licks a wet strip across your neck.

Grabbing onto his shoulder for purchase, you feel your legs getting weaker with the sudden tantalizing attack. Wanting to get back at him, you will yourself into regaining your balance so your hands can roam free again. You know Amahiko loves to be felt up. You give him plenty of it, sliding your open palms down the small of his back and arriving at his well-formed ass, giving it a firm squeeze with both hands and then traveling further down on his sides to feel for his toned, muscular thighs, the result of hours upon hours of tireless training. Then moving to the top again, because you desperately need to be held closer in his embrace, you focus on his back. It's so broad; amidst the hug you measure it with your hands and let a pleased sound escape you.

Amahiko moans as one of your hands finds the front of his pants, feeling for a sign that he's enjoying this as much as you are. He attacks your neck again with a fervent suck against the skin.

The bridge of his nose brushes against your still-wet hair and a single waterdrop runs down his cheek, making him pause and chuckle.

"I got ahead of myself, but being seduced like that, I hope you can understand me. Now, can you please take a sit on the bed?"

"What are you planning, Amahiko?"

"Sexy blow-dry!"

Leaving yourself in Amahiko's capable hands, you let yourself be utterly spoiled as he blows your hair dry for you. You're pleased to know the act was as stimulating for him as it was to you, with the feeling of his fingers running through your scalp keeping the fire inside you alive. For any other couple, this could be a distraction from the main event of the night, but for you and Amahiko, it's simply foreplay - after all, he's knowledgeable of the sensitivity of the scalp, even considered an erogenous zone. He pays special attention to the area behind your ears and around your neck, not forgetting to gently tug at your hair as well.

The way he took a moment to reassure you earlier, the way he takes proper care of you instead of devouring you at the door, it all makes you fall head over heels for him all over again. What kind of pamper play is that?!

Putting the dryer away and taking a sit behind you on the bed once again just in time to hear your dreamy sigh, Amahiko hums softly with curiosity. The way his broad frame envelops your from behind messes up with your head, and you give him no answer. You simply drop down to the fluffy duvet, turning over on your back so you can admire his towering-over-you form.

Not paying attention to the way his bathrobe has opened up to reveal more of your skin to his eyes, you let out a small giggle at the audacity of your upcoming request before it's even left your lips. Decisively, you wait for Amahiko to return his gaze to your own before you speak.

"I was being sincere earlier when I said I forgive you for returning home late. Please don't worry so much about these things. However… If you still want to make it up to me…"

Amahiko places one hand at the side of your head, then the other, practically caging you underneath him as he leans over you. His face is serious.

"I understand. You don't have to say another word."

And just like that, he withdraws again, making you thankful because you can now catch your breath, at least. Remaining on the bed, you see him get up and approach the pole at the center of his room.

The disco lights flash over his face, revealing a knowing little smile as Amahiko holds down your gaze. The glassy surface of his eight-wing wardrobe reflects his lit frame, doubling the head-spinning effect of the atmosphere cast by the multicolored lights. You find yourself the sole audience of an exquisite show, as Amahiko begins with simply walking around the metal pole gracefully. In just one turn, all of the buttons on his shirt fall open - you know by now that most of his clothes outside of the playtime costumes are chosen to be taken off easily for his own comfort. You've never seen someone take his shirt off so sensibly, baring one shoulder then the other, then swiftly sliding off the sleeves. The discarded item falls on the floor, and you remove your attention from it in order to take in the sight of Amahiko's now nude torso in its full glory. The light dances on its muscular forms, from his toned abs to the dips of his prominent hipbones where they disappear under his belt. Despite the elegant start, you know what's next by the way he moves his gaze from you to the pole: in just a second he takes a firm grip on it, performing a leap off the ground not unlike a predator chasing after its prey.

Gripping the pole with both hands, he pushes his pelvis up over his head, legs opening to a splits as he rotates at a slow pace. Next, he closes his legs around the pole, holding it between his hefty thighs, strong enough to uphold his weight. He times it perfectly so that he's facing you when he brings his torso up, seemingly folding in half, as you see him…catch the zipper of his red trousers between his teeth and pull it down.

He lets his upper body unfold until he's hanging upside down once again, hooking one leg and folding it so he can grab the pole between his legs, using the other hand to tug down the fabric until his pants' foot comes off, reversing and doing the same with the other.

The article of clothing falls to the ground, leaving him only in his underwear, a silky silver thong that makes a living mirrorball out of Amahiko parading himself on the pole. It catches the eye as it is, but even moreso now that the skimpy, thin fabric shows the outlines of his already erect cock. Amahiko seems to be enjoying himself, libido high as always.

He makes it look so effortless; as if he is weightless, the way he manipulates his own large body into submission, fluid motions calculated with such precision you're left staring in awe. What he does is art, and you're dead serious when you claim that each time you watch him performing it's like the first time. No amount of pole dancing done on the spur of the moment when provoked by the rest of the residents can dull your reaction to it.

Amahiko grants you a good view of his buttocks, flexing the muscles of his back and rear just for you, sneaking a look at you watching him.

He snakes the fingers of his left hand down his hip, penetrating underneath the thin strap and dragging it down with his motion. The tip of his cock pokes out, a bead of precome adorning it and making your mouth water. It's as if the sheer intensity of your gaze undresses Amahiko as the thong comes loose, sliding down to hang from one leg as Amahiko raises it to let the tiny underwear dangle from his foot until he unceremoniously throws it in your direction.

It's the end of Amahiko's show now that he's stripped down to his most nakedness, but he knows how to wrap things up with style.

A final fireman's spin puts accent on his proudly standing-up cock in its whole eye-candy glory, swinging around along with the rest of him just to make your mouth water.

And with that, he lands on the ground at very last.

You give him a round of applause, making sure to let him know how much he fascinated you. "Amahiko…that was incredibly sexy to watch…"

The man approaching you smirks in satisfaction with himself, sinking one knee in the round bed as he extends his hand in offer.

"I bet you wanted to touch me with more than your eyes?"

"I…yes. Please."

The unnecessarity of your last word becomes clear as Amahiko guides your hand to slide down his stomach until you feel the soft fuzz of his plum-colored pubic hair.

"Let me have a taste?"

Amahiko reacts vocally to your playful suggestion, cock pulsating visibly at the mere implication of a hot mouth wrapped around it. You trail your very fingertips down the prominent vein running down his pelvis, following it but avoiding any direct touch on Amahiko's arousal for the time being. As much as you want to wrap your hand around the thick girth, you feel like going straight for tonguing it this time.

"Amahiko will burst with ecstasy if you play with him too much."

"Maybe I want him to burst… in my mouth, and all over my face…"

"Ahhh!"

You give him no time to recover from the image you planted in his mind before lapping at the cock hanging in the air right in front of your face. You give his length a long lick from base to tip, savoring his salty, intoxicating taste that you find yourself addicted to, catching the bulbous head in your mouth and giving it a light suck, before withdrawing and letting his cock bounce.

"I can't help it Amahiko, I want to see you come again and again, and to join you in it until we're completely spent… Maybe it would be fair if you were to decide where you want to climax the first time, and then I get to play with you however I want?"

Amahiko sucks on a breath, sliding a hand down to tug on the base of his cock, cupping his heavy sack and staring at you with dark lust in his eyes. "I agree, however, I still have more apologizing to do. Allow me to pleasure you thoroughly first and give you all I've got. That's my decision."

He guides his cock so that the tip rubs on your velvety lips, precum smearing on them.

"So sexy."

You produce a low grunting noise deep in your throat in approval, not daring to open your lips while he's servicing himself with them. It's just a mere tease though, as in the next second he withdraws and shifts his body until he's fully seated on the bed.

"Let's remove this. Show me your sexy body."

He guides the bathrobe off your shoulders, the silky fabric pooling behind you as Amahiko lets out a low gasp, as if seeing you naked for the first time. He can't keep his hands to himself any longer, and you indulge him willingly, shortening the distance between you until you're welcomed in his lap.

"Today we'll try a position that lets me take care of multiple erogenous zones of yours at the same time. I think you'll find it quite pleasurable. But first, kiss me."

Your pulse quickens with anticipation, ready to be reduced to putty in his hands as wrings pleasure out of you. Amahiko possesses exquisite knowledge about the human body and the many ways it can be played with, you're at the mercy of a professional lover. You'd obediently let him turn, twist and pose you in any way he sees fit, motivated by the promise of drowning in ecstasy. Together, that's it.

You hurry to kiss him as he wished, nowhere as careful as he'd kiss you, but you know he'll love it all the same. His lips are pried to grant you an entrance and you boldly and vigorously invade his mouth, claiming every millimeter of it. He moans in the kiss, following your wild manners tit for tat, not minding the saliva escaping the corner of his mouth. You leave him thoroughly kissed and on edge, impatient to finally receive a stimulation that counts.

"Begin by laying on your stomach for me please."

Eager to comply, the haze occupying your mind already does half the work of getting you lying down again, and the bedding feels good as it rubs along your skin as you turn around. Your behind is now on display for Amahiko who is quick to guide you in the desired position.

"You may lay relaxed for now, at least until I prepare you for penetration." He helps you relax by emphasizing his words with a gentle caress down your back - even if it sends shivers all the way to your toes instead. It takes a lot not to wiggle your hips and spark at least some satisfaction where you need it the most, but you decide to be patient and good for him.

Even when facing away, you recognize the telltale sounds of a nightstand drawer sliding open and then closed with a soft thud a second later. It could be the hundred time Amahiko has taken care of you this way and you'd still find your arousal growing tenfold when this moment approaches. And your muscles all tense up as you feel his fingers coat and probe at your hole with the slippery lube.

"Are my fingers too cold?"

You groan a little at the novel for the night stimulation, reaching over your head for a pillow to drag under your head. Not for hiding your moans, no - letting your voice out was the first and most important lesson you learned in the bedroom of the World Sexy Ambassador - but clutching it in your fist and biting down on it, on the other hand, is welcomed.

"They're…perfect. Thick and long and so experienced."

"Thank you."

Accepting the compliment is not where Amahiko stops; he's eager to prove he deserves it as well, it seems, as he gets the hint about your impatience and puts his fingers in action.

"I know applying extra lubrication might be a burden for you when your body screams for release, but aside from being recommended when you're intimate with someone my size, it would enhance our pleasure. I want nothing but to make you overflow with it."

"Hnng- Please- I'm so ready for you-"

You know your body speaks for you more than your own voice does, as your insides squeeze tightly around Amahiko's slick-coated fingers. The gesture of him focusing on preparing you rather than pleasuring you is driving you insane, but you trust in how rewarding it would all be. The lewd noises of more lube being squeezed out leave you imagining how he applies it on his own cock, as you hear his deep moan. He must be giving his cock a nice stroke now, making sure it's perfectly erect and ready to pleasure you.

"Alright. Let us begin."

You moan in something that is neither pure delight nor frustration, hole spasming around nothing as Amahiko's fingers exit you. You feel his presence towering over your back as places his muscular thighs on either side of your own.

His hand is warm when it lands in the crease of your left knee.

"Fold this leg and hold it like that. Keep the other one stretched out."

His gentle nudge helps you into complying, and you can't help the small noises of anticipation leaving your mouth as you find the place between your legs exposed to the air because of the motion.

"Now put your weight on your elbows… yes, just like that. Sexy."

You prostrate yourself for Amahiko in this convenient position, with your lubed hole all ready for him - you all but feel the focus on the place of penetration, and whine at the lack thereof.

"Shh. Amahiko is coming."

Perplexed at the way he manages to make the simplest things feel like euphoria, you find yourself fighting back a steadily building orgasm at the mere feeling of Amahiko's glans rubbing against your entrance. The friction is fluid, making him slip in with ease, and he exits your body with what you assume is caution not to overstimulate you by thrusting all the way in too soon. It surely wouldn't be him teasing you despite how crazed up with arousal he's already gotten you…

"Nghh- You're so tight and warm inside. You feel so delightful."

Him saying this while he slides back in, this time slower and deeper, has got you gasping around the first few syllables of his name. He thrusts in and out at a slow pace that he gradually picks up until his thrusts are long and even, clouding your head with pleasure.

Being behind you like that, Amahiko has access to one too many sensitive spots of your burning skin, and he is quick to make use of it. He begins by raining kisses on your shoulder, open-mouthed and wet, slowly making his way up the junction of it and your neck, and continuing his ambush until he's met with the delicate skin of your earlobe. He bites on it, slowing the movements of his hips just to savor the reaction as his wet tongue traces the rim of your ear.

"Ahhh-That's-"

"It's sensitive here. You've begun to suck me in deeper inside."

Dividing your focus between the two areas in your body receiving attention induces head-spinning sensation that leaves you breathless. As Amahiko continues tonguing your ear, his hand sneaks to where he earlier noticed you like having it, on the crease of your knee.

"Here too… the skin is thinner. You're going to be screaming in pleasure soon."

Amahiko's deep voice rumbling low as he whispers in your ear is a weapon far more dangerous than those little tricks he plays on your body, but combined with them, you're facing a whirlwind of sensation like never before. And you're spinning, spinning as the low creaking noise of the bed soundtracks each and every thrust of Amahiko; his body draped over yours with a thin layer of sweat between you, his own moans of pleasure entwining with yours, equal in volume and in wanton, speaking of two approaching highs: aching, swollen, pulsing, gushing.

Amahiko now all but slams his hips into yours with his nearly inhuman stamina, the noises of skin-on-skin joining in the salacious melody, and he fucks you so good. You realize the worth of this position as Amahiko grips the inside of your knee to spread you even further, granting himself access to the spots inside you that lit your body on fire.

"I'm-Ngh- I'm going to-come inside you-"

"Do it- Amahiko, do it, please, I'm cumming too…!"

"Let's do it together!"

Turning your head to the side, you clash your lips into Amahiko's, desperately wanting to hold onto the remaining bits of your reason as your world shatters with hot-white pleasure. Amahiko's cock spears through your deepest parts, making you feel completely full as it swells and pulsates to the point of no return. Amidst a broken moan of his name, you tip over the edge, dragging Amahiko along as your body is shaken by ecstasy, just as his is. You feel the hot torrents of his cum fill you to the brim as he keeps cumming and cumming inside you through uneven and deep trusts that lack their previous preciseness in the face of the consuming euphoria.

Amahiko continues fucking the orgasm out of you until you can't take it anymore, and his now shallow thrusts are enough to send your body in tremors with the aftershocks.

Your body gives out and you let the bed embrace your weight as you lay down, Amahiko carefully caging you with his body. He whispers filthy things in your ear, glorifying the heavenly feeling you granted him with, while lazily caressing over your sex with his hand, tracing over the place where you're connected.

You shift your body to your side and he does the same to face you, and you catch him just in time to see how he brings his fingers to his mouth.

"The nectar of our conjoining, it's so sweet…"

"A-Amahiko…"

Blaming it on your still uneven breathing, your heart is yet to calm down and how could it be when Amahiko doesn't give you a break? You feel the liquid warmly tricking down the side of your thigh, and shamelessly you find yourself feeling awfully empty again. So soon.

"Mmmhh…" You attempt to voice out your complaint as Amahiko kisses you again, sharing the taste lingering on his tongue with you. But then something else pops up in your mind.

"Amahiko…"

"Yes, my dear?"

"When we're done here… I think, no, I'm sure… that I'll need to get a bath again."

A second passes, and you hear him sucking on a breather. You can't help the giddy feeling rising in your chest.

"Let this Amahiko join you for a sexy bath."

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#charisma house #charisma house amahiko #tendo amahiko #amahiko tendo #charisma house tendo amahiko #charisma house smut #charisma house fanfiction #crsm

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yumigguk · 7 months

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𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲| 𝐣𝐞𝐨𝐧 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤

summary: After finding out that you slept at Taehyung's house, a fire is burning inside him.

pairing: fwb!jungkook × reader

genre: smut, angst

description: college!au; f2l. Memories of your own involvement with Jungkook resurface, and you realize that maybe those feelings you've suppressed for so long are stronger than you thought.

warnings: intercourse, exhibitionism, dirty talk, fingering, degrading names, spanking, hair pulling, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, spit, d/s themes, ass play

words: 4k

Jeon Jungkook and you have been involved in this situation for more than four months. He's always there for you when you need someone, and you are there for him when he needs someone. But it's much more than that. Both of you are in the same group of friends, yet nobody knows the dirty secrets that you both keep.

This happened after you moped around following your breakup. From the moment he stepped in, there was an air of comfort and protection that surrounded him. He had a natural charisma that drew people in, but it was his unwavering support and presence that truly set him apart.

Whenever you needed someone to talk to, Jungkook was there, listening attentively to your every word. He offered a shoulder to lean on and a warm, reassuring smile that seemed to say, "I'm here for you." You couldn't help but notice the way he made you feel safe, like nothing could harm you as long as he was around.

Jungkook's gestures spoke volumes, though you remained oblivious to their romantic undertones. He would always walk on the side of the sidewalk closer to traffic, subtly shielding you from any potential danger. He'd insist on driving you home, no matter the distance, just to make sure you arrived safely. And his protective nature extended to small things too, like offering you his jacket when the evening air turned chilly.

His scent was another clue to his feelings. Jungkook always smelled amazing, his cologne lingering in the air after he left. It was a fragrance that seemed to envelop you in a comforting embrace, yet you didn't fully understand the significance of this lingering scent.

After a short time, you realize what a douchebag your ex-boyfriend was, and during your angry phase, you confessed that he wasn't even able to satisfy you. You think this might have railed him up because you ended bend over with a finger in your ass, screaming so hard that the whole neighbourhood heard.

It is clear to everyone that you and he grow closer when they find the two of you together in different places. For example, Jimin saw you and Jungkook at McDonald's, or your best friend, Han Soo, saw you and Jungkook studying at the library. Hoseok always seems to bump into both of you in the hallways. You deny that you and Jeon Jungkook have something going on in front of everyone because you both know things would be weird if your friends found out.

Thinking about your friends, you can't believe that you and Taehyung had so many drinks last night that your head still hurts. You received messages from Jeon, but you saw them in the morning while rushing to catch the bus to college and letting Taehyung snore:

"Han Soo told me you are alone at Taehyung's place. Be responsible and don't drink too much."

"Why don't you reply?"

"Want me to drive you home?"

"Y/N???"

"Whatever, enjoy your time with Taehyung.

Rereading the messages during your boring lecture, you reply with, 'I took the bus, but thank you.' After a short time, he responds with, 'Come to my car after.' You didn't know why, and you didn't reply because he knew that you would do what he told you.

When the lecture is finally over, you navigate through the crowd. Upon reaching the parking lot, you spot Jungkook's car. As you get closer, you notice that the windows are open, and Jungkook is blowing a cigarette, looking like a mad man. You get into the car, confusion evident on your face. 'Hi?' Your eyes focus on his lips, then his torso. You can't deny his attractiveness; he's built like a god, and seeing him smoke always heats you up. He's wearing a black oversized t-shirt, and he smells so good that it instantly flusters you, reminding you that sometimes you smell like him too. You find attractive perfume mixed with the scent of a cigarette.

“Wouldn't you care to explain why you slept at another man's place last night?" Jungkook says, looking outside the window as his body tenses in the car seat. You didn't know how to react because it's the first time he asked you these kinds of questions. You both discussed that you are not exclusive and have been defensive about catching feelings. "So?" he says again, much more stiffly than before, looking at you now as he raises an eyebrow.

“When you say 'other man,' you mean Taehyung?" You said, laughing in his face. "Why are you so serious about it, Jeon? Are you jealous?" Now you are looking into his eyes with a smile on your lips. "You agreed that it's not exclusive. You agreed." And this holds a lot of meaning because you don't sleep with other people, and you only want him. You are definitely jealous that he makes other women feel the same way he makes you feel. Your eyes appear cold to him.

He scoffs, "Oh, so you wouldn't mind if you saw me with another woman, right?" He smirks, and his gaze darkens as you feel he's challenging you. "Fine, you're right. We aren't exclusive, baby," he mocks, but the feeling you get is that he's not saying what he wanted to in the first place. A feeling of nausea washes over your body, making you feel sick.

"No, Jeon, why would I mind seeing you with another woman? I already told you we aren't exclusive." It feels like a game right now, and you feel a hole in your stomach when you say it because you wouldn't find it pleasing to see Jungkook with another woman. But the truth is that you both agreed that this relationship is no-strings-attached. Seeing that Jungkook has no reply to what you just said, he looks outside the window again and lights another cigarette. "Can you drive me home now?" you ask him, feeling the tension in the air.

He throws away the cigarette. “As you wish, babe," he says, but you're not sure if it's about exclusivity or driving you home. Then he starts the car.

The way home is quiet and tense, and you can't understand his attitude. What's wrong with sleeping at your childhood friend's house, who's also his friend? And why is it okay for him to see other women? The car stops, and he opens the door for you. "See you tonight," looking away from you, avoiding your gaze.

"See you," you whisper, knowing damn well he heard you. You close the door and walk away from the car. As usual, Jungkook doesn't leave until he sees you safely enter the building.

Tonight is Friday night, and you and your friends always go to the club to celebrate the weekend like some college freaks.

You've dressed yourself up with a short skirt and a top that flatters your chest, wearing makeup and cologne that could make any man kneel.

“Y/N, you look gorgeous” your friend Han Soo compliments you. “You're divine. You're going to catch every man's eye in the club. Hope you finally get laid tonight.” You hate lying to her, but you know your situation with Jungkook is unstable, and after the talk you two had today, you don't plan on telling her anytime soon.

After arriving at the club, you and Jungkook don't even look at each other. How immature from both of you. The music is loud, the lights are flashing, and the atmosphere is electric.

As the night progresses, after a few drink with Jimin and talking about politics “Fuck socialism” Jimin laughs.

You notice Jungkook chatting and dancing with an attractive girl, she’s grinding on him like there’s no tomorrow. You can't help but feel a pang of jealousy deep inside you. He’s grabbing her hair, whispering in her ears.

Memories of your own involvement with Jungkook resurface, and you realize that maybe those feelings you've suppressed for so long are stronger than you thought.

Seeing Jungkook with another woman stirs a mix of emotions within you—jealousy, longing, and confusion.

You watch them together, and it's clear that he's trying to make you jealous. His subtle glances in your direction and the way he touches the girl suggest that he knows you're watching. Your heart races, and it becomes increasingly difficult to deny your feelings for him.

Unable to bear the sight any longer, you decide to take matters into your own hands. You turn to Taehyung. "Taehyung, want to dance?" you ask without showing emotion. "Sure, let's do it," he says excitedly. You know he's drunk, and you remember that he once confessed his attraction to you when he was inebriated. You try to forget about it because he never laid a finger on you, showing that he values your friendship.

As you move to the dance floor with Taehyung, you can't help but glance back at Jungkook and the girl he's with. Your intention is clear—you want to make Jungkook jealous, just as he seemed to want to do to you earlier. As you and Taehyung dance, you can feel Jungkook's eyes on you. The tension between you and him becomes palpable, and it's clear that the unspoken emotions you both have been avoiding are coming to the surface.

You grind your hips on Taehyung, your mouth slightly parted but with a smile on your lips. "Are you drunk?" he asks, worried as you feel him getting aroused. "Shut up, Tae. It's just one dance.”

In that moment, the club's pounding music and swirling lights fade into the background, and it's just you, Jungkook, and the complicated feelings you've been trying to ignore for so long. The dance floor becomes a battleground of unspoken emotions.

You excuse yourself and make your way to the bathroom, leaving Taehyung on the dance floor without a word. In the quiet moments alone, your heart throbs with jealousy after witnessing Jungkook with yet another one of his many girls.

You shouldn't be jealous, but now you confess to yourself that you truly are. When you exit the bathroom, your heart still heavy with envy over seeing Jungkook with one of his many girls, you search for Han Soo to excuse yourself and make a hasty exit, planning to offer a vague excuse about not feeling well.

As you scan the crowd, you unexpectedly come across Taehyung, who had been looking for you. You explain to him that you're not feeling well and that you'd like to head home early.

Taehyung, concerned, asks, "Is it because of the dance?" He covers his face with his palms, seemingly regretful. "Y/N, I didn't mean to make you uncomfort-"

You quickly interrupt him, "Taehyung, don't worry, I really feel sick. It had nothing to do with you. I initiated the dance."

He removes his hands from his face and says, "I'm going to call a cab for us." He starts searching for his phone.

“You don’t need to-“ before you can finish your sentence, Jungkook suddenly appears next to you. Taehyung acknowledges his presence and says, "Hey, man, I'm going to take Y/N home now. She's not feeling well. Tell others that we are leaving."

Jungkook scoffs at Taehyung's words and responds curtly, "Not feeling well, huh? Don't worry then. I'll take her home myself. You can enjoy the rest of the party." His eyes appear flat and emotionless, a stark contrast to his seemingly rude tone.

Without waiting for Taehyung's response, Jungkook grabs your hand, and the two of you swiftly disappear from the scene, leaving Taehyung without a chance to react.

Little did you know, this night would bring unexpected emotions to the surface. Still shocked, you get in the car without saying anything.

The atmosphere was thick with tension. Jungkook gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white with anger. You both had just witnessed each other dancing with other people at the club, and the realization that jealousy ran deep within both of you had shaken the foundation of your friendship.

"Fuck, can't believe you were dancing with him, Y/N. You’re playing with my patience” you’ve never seen him that angry.

"Well, you weren't exactly innocent, Jungkook. Your pretty little girlfriend was rubbing her ass against you the whole night.”

His jaw clenched, and he turned his gaze to the road ahead, his anger palpable." Didn’t you say that you were okay with me seeing other women? Are you jealous? Say it.”

"I didn't expect you to be fucking her through clothes, Jungkook. Fuck you, you are the one who’s jealous.”

The car was filled with silence for a moment, broken only by the distant sounds of the night. Both of you were wrestling with the realization that your feelings ran deeper than you had ever acknowledged. The tension in the car was unbearable as you both grappled with the newfound emotions that had surfaced. The truth was, you both felt more than just friendship, but neither of you had been willing to admit it until that jealous night at the club.

Jungkook pulled over his car without saying a word. "What the heck? What are you doing?" You asked, a mix of anger and confusion in your voice.

"Get in the back," he said sternly. You complied, thinking for a moment that maybe the two of you were going to clarify everything that had happened tonight and sort out the mixed feelings that had arisen.

Once you were both in the back seat, he snaked his arm around your waist and pulled you onto his lap. He roughly grasped your chin, looking into your eyes you can see his eyes are darker, full of anger. Without a word, he cupped your face with his hands, his touch demanding and intense.

His lips crashed into yours, a rough collision of longing and frustration. It was a kiss that held a multitude of unspoken words, a desperate attempt to bridge the gap between friendship and something more. His mouth moved forcefully against yours, as if trying to claim you, and your response was equally fierce.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as you tasted the raw desire in his kiss. It was a passionate, almost primal exchange, a silent acknowledgment of the feelings you had both kept buried for far too long.

As your lips finally parted, both of you were left breathless, and the car seemed to hold its breath too, as if aware of the uncharted territory you had just ventured into.

"I can't believe I saw you with someone else tonight," he confessed, his jealousy undeniable. "That kiss... it drove me crazy, Y/N."

His words carried the weight of realization, acknowledging the jealousy that had flared up within him after our passionate kiss. It was a moment of vulnerability, and we both knew that things between us had shifted in a way that couldn't be ignored.

Bringing his hand underneath your skirt, his index finger to your clothed sex to gently rub all over your clit. The aftermath of that intense kiss left you feeling undeniably aroused. “Did you get that aroused from dancing with Taehyung?” He chuckles.

“Fuck off” you growl out and he slaps your right asscheek, you yelp at the pleasurable pain.

“Smart mouth, huh? I will fuck the smartness away, whore”. His fingers find their way into your core and you gasp in surprise. “Not that feisty anymore”

“Jungkook-“ your walls clenched around his fingers and he hums as he plays with his lip piercing.

“What, baby? What do my little whore wants?” he purrs, a cocky smirk spreading across his face as his fingers move faster as he wraps your hair around in a pony tail.

“Please” you plead, the unspoken tension between you two had finally erupted into the open, leaving you with an undeniable craving for Jungkook.

“Please, what?” he asks with a mixture of trepidation and desire.

“Please, finger fuck me faster” getting flustered and wetter than ever, you realized that you were always submissive to him

“Ohh, that’s my good whore. Getting this whiny only from my fingers. Moan for how long you want, bitch, you know it doesn’t even compare to what my dick feels” each word hung in the charged air, heavy with anticipation, your heart racing from the abused g-spot.

“I’m gonna cum, please” you say with trembling lips and a racing heart, screw-in your eyes shut at the feeling of him pumping his fingers.

“Cum, dumb slut, cum on my fingers”He says raspy, and you can feel the burning sensation in your stomach intensifying as he curls his fingers.

"You got the real man at home now, whore. I'm going to slide in and out of your holes slowly and torture you with pleasure.“ he says raspy with a cocky smile as he tugs his pants down his legs.

Your heart raced, and your breaths came in shallow, heated gasps. The taste of Jungkook still lingered on your lips, a heady mix of desire and longing that pulsed through my veins.

You feel the head of his dick brushing his head along your sensitive clit. “You were acting like a slut earlier so you should be fucked like one. Am I right?”

“Yes” you admitt with no shame as you feel him positioning himself at your entrance. Humming in satisfaction, spits in his hand and spreads it all over cock before he slowly begins to penetrate you.

You gasp at the feeling of his bare dick, feeling it sink into you stretching your walls.

“Feels good to finally have a thick cock stretching you and hitting deep, doesn't it?" He fucks you from the bottom, cock burried deep into your cunt. You moan and clench him so hard that you’re making him shut his eyes.

His hips snapping until the meet your ass as he continues to fucking himself in and out of your sloppy cunt, you are a moaning mess.

“You can't lie to me, cockslut. I know that’s what you wanted, being fucked in the car while car are passing, making everyone see that you belong to me”

“Fuck, yes, make me yours” he grunts at your words, his thrusts animalistic as he grabs your neck.

“This cunt is mine. Mine to touch. Mind to kiss. Mine to fuck. You got it?”Jungkook askes, chuckling as he tightens his grip around your neck

“Only yours.” He delivers a harsh thrust at your words and all you could to is to moan.

He pants, pounding into you as he puts his thumb to circle your clit.

“Let me cum, please” you beg and feeling of his cock brushing against your walls is too much, hitting your g-spot in a way that made you see stars.

“Cum on it. Show me that I’m yours” The overstimulation is way too much and it makes you feel every nerve inside. He continues to fuck you through your orgasm as you sob underneath him.

“Jungkook” you sob, tears falling on your cheeks and his trusts start getting sloppy. It doesn’t take long for him to shoot his load inside of you. He grunts animalistically, his vice-like grip on your hips sure to leave bruises. "God, I love having you as my whore". After a few more lazy thrusts, continuously fucking his load into you, he comes to a full stop. He pulls out and rests his head.

It was a silence pregnant with possibility, a moment when the uncharted territory of our feelings lay before us, waiting to be explored. In that silence, a thousand unspoken words hung in the air, their weight almost tangible. It was a moment of raw vulnerability and a newfound awareness of the emotions that had been simmering beneath the surface.

It has been a week since the car encounter you had with Jungkook. That week without Jungkook had felt like an eternity, each passing day heavier than the last.

At first, there was a lingering sense of confusion and uncertainty that left a knot in your stomach. Why had he skipped classes? Why hadn't he replied to your texts?

As the days went by, those feelings of confusion morphed into a deep, gnawing sadness.

You found yourself constantly checking your phone, hoping for a message from him that never came. It was like waiting for a lifeline in a sea of uncertainty, but all you received was silence.

The empty seat next to you in class seemed to taunt you, a stark reminder of his absence. Your usual conversations and shared laughter were replaced by a hollow ache. You missed his presence, the way he made you feel safe and understood.

Nights were the hardest.

In the quiet darkness, your thoughts were consumed by questions and doubts. Had you done something wrong? Was he avoiding you intentionally? The weight of those unspoken questions pressed down on your chest, making it difficult to breathe.

Loneliness settled in like an unwelcome guest, and you found yourself yearning for his company more than ever.

The world felt dull and gray without him, and every day without his smile, his laughter, and his presence felt like a never-ending storm.

But amidst the sadness, there was a glimmer of hope. The memory of that jealousy sex in the car, the unspoken desire between you two, gave you a flicker of optimism. Maybe, just maybe, this tumultuous week would lead to something more, something that would make the wait worthwhile.

You spotted Jungkook at the end of the bustling college hallway, and your heart did a somersault. Your emotions were a whirlwind of confusion, uncertainty, and a longing that was becoming harder to ignore.

As you approached him, you could feel the tension in the air, like a thick fog surrounding both of you. You tried to read his expression, but his face was a mask of indecipherable emotions.

"Jungkook," you greeted him tentatively. He looked up, and his eyes met yours. For a moment, it felt like the world around you had faded away, leaving just the two of you in this charged moment.

"Hey," he replied, his voice a mixture of nerves and desire. The silence that followed was deafening. You both stood there, caught in a web of unspoken feelings. It was clear that he was just as confused as you were, yet there was an undeniable magnetic pull drawing you closer.

Finally, he broke the silence, his voice trembling slightly, "I've been thinking about that night, Y/N. About us."

Your heart skipped a beat as you waited for him to continue, your emotions on edge.

"I can't stop thinking about you," he admitted, his eyes locked onto yours. "I want to be with you, Y/N."

The weight of his words hung in the air, and you could feel the intensity of his desire. It was a confession that left you breathless and aching for more. "I've been so confused, too," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. "But I want to be with you too, Jungkook."

A slow, genuine smile spread across his face, and it felt like the sun breaking through the clouds on a stormy day.

In that moment, surrounded by the bustling college hallway and the curious gazes of passing students, you both knew that something had shifted. The uncharted territory you had ventured into was no longer a mystery but a path you were both willing to explore together.

…….

Thank u everyone for the support, I know it’s short but hope u all enjoy it. Also, English isn’t my first language so pls forgive me 😔😔. Asks open.

Tag list: @nays2112 @gxtwllsn @iluvhueningkai @canyon-lwt @kaiparkerwifes @thelilbutifulthings @omgwolfie @grltwin @armystay89

#jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x you #jungkook x original character #jungkook x y/n #bts fluff #bts smut #jungkook smut #jeongguk smut #jeon jungkook smut #thebtswritersclub #jungkook fic #jungkook fluff #jungkook drabble #jungkook

1K notes · View notes

lvmazzy · 9 months

Text

- playing dangerous !

summary: Heesung doesn't hide his favoritism for his girl in the kpop industry.

pairing: manager!heeseung x idol!fem!reader

word/character count: 6K / 6297

warnings: grammatical errors, profanity, implied sex, obscenity, kpop, gg kpop, favoritism, affair between co-workers...

gender: little smut, fluff(?), funny(??)

author's notes: hihi my luvs!! I'm finally back. it's my first time writing something about enhypen and a little more raunchy, sooo I hope you like it! don't forget to give your feedback which is very important. xoxo 💋

It was a fact that Heeseung had a soft spot for you. From the day he saw you practicing in the rehearsal room, he certainly saw potential, charisma and beauty.

Your kpop group wasn't as acclaimed and recognized yet and that frustrated you. But things changed when you met Heeseung, he was a nice, young and extremely attractive guy - sinful thoughts ran through your mind making you dizzy - you saw how excited he was to be your new manager and help elevate your career.

Your dream was to be famous, the fame, the lust, the spotlight was your dream and Heeseung sure promised you all of that.

Things started to look better since you entered into an agreement with Heeseung, he was a great agent and manager. Album sales were up, views were growing, listeners on spotify were increasing and all of this was thanks to your manager Heeseung.

You were eternally grateful and happy for all your manager's work, he even increased your distribution lines on songs, invested in sponsors, in other words, you were the center of everything!

It was late at night when you had just come off another successful stage. You looked radiant, with rosy cheeks, hair on your forehead from dancing, and a breathtakingly flawless outfit.

The ecstasy was visible on your face as you entered your dressing room. Looking at yourself in the mirror, admiring every detail, so wrapped up in the countless compliments, you suddenly felt a pair of hands on your waist which made you jump in fright.

"Heeseung! You scared me!" you say with wide eyes and a hand on your heart.

"sorry my little kitten, I just came here to congratulate you." your stomach filled with butterflies at the nickname making you blush. Then immediately he pulled you closer to himself. In response, you wrapped your arms around his neck.

"you were amazing tonight, I'm so proud of you..." Heeseung whispered as he distributed several kisses with light bites on your neck, making you shiver with every touch.

"Heeseung... we.... can't....." it was almost a whisper. You tried to form coherent sentences, but Heeseung's kisses became hotter and hotter.

"why not? We've done it several times right here, remember?" he let out a nasal laugh after saying that, looking at your face with that seductive smile you couldn't resist. "or do you prefer my house?"

you paused for a moment and thought... your chest rising and falling because of the accelerated breathing. That's when you cracked a mischievous smile that made Heeseung smile too. "I get it, you really are a nasty girl." after saying that, he pulls you out of the dressing room and takes you to his car.

The ride was quiet and calm, you realized how attractive Heesung was tonight. The way he held the steering wheel and how his hair was slightly messy made you bite your lip trying to contain it.

Heeseung quickly noticed your behavior and brought one of his hands to your thigh and began to caress it slowly. He was teasing you, you knew him too well to know that kind of game.

When you finally arrived at his house, you quickly kissed him with all your strength and desperation.

He pinned you to the door and sunk his lips into yours, making your tongues roll together in sync. You gave a soft moan, which made Heeseung go crazy.

"i didn't know you were that needy." Heeseung said with a malicious smile on his face and with one of his eyebrows raised.

"shut up." You pursed your lips again and wrapped your legs around his waist.

Heesung held you and led you to your room, you had come here several times before and never seemed to change.

He laid you down on the bed gently with your lips still attached and pulled away for a moment, making you moan from the lack of contact.

"patience princess." he pulled off his shirt revealing the toned body you adored. It was quite a sight.

Moving closer to you, Heeseung began to distribute kisses on your thighs making you dizzy with pleasure.

"what? Cat got your tongue? Tell me what you want." a smug smile appeared on his lips.

"you..."

"hmm I don't think you've convinced me." he says pulling away leaving you frustrated and looking at your face that was almost closed.

"I want you, please. I want to feel you." you say under your breath making him smile in response.

He kissed you once again hovering above and lowered his lips on your neck leaving several bites. At this point you could only moan softly and try to keep your eyes open.

"you know how much I love this skirt on you, it's a shame we don't need it right now." with one action, he takes off your skirt throwing it in any corner on the floor.

You pull him into a desperate, passionate kiss, as his hands roam all over your body, squeezing and caressing.

He runs his thumb across your lips and caresses them, as you look up at him with the brightest eyes.

"you're a mess, princess." he says laughing as he stands mesmerized by you. In response, you gently kiss his thumb.

Suddenly, you both hear a low purr coming from the floor snapping you out of your trance.

"what...." you say confused.

It's then that a white ball of fur climbs onto the bed disturbing your moment.

"ownn it's just Yoon. I miss you my love." you say stroking and kissing Heeseung's cat several times, making him snort.

"okay okay, now we're at an important moment you know?" he retorts taking the cat off his lap and putting it away from you on the bed.

"i don't think she wants to see what her parents are about to do."

"what if she decides to watch?" he says to you in a teasing way while taking off your shirt.

"that would be pretty weird." you said a little out of breath because of Heeseung.

"I think she'll like that view." he says not stopping to look at you, specifically, your body that was only in your bra.

In response, you rolled your eyes and hit his shoulder playfully making him laugh.

"sorry, but you're always so hot, my star."

"oh my, what a corny nickname!" you say groaning in embarrassment making you both laugh.

"deep down you found it exciting."

"Heeseung if you don't shut your mouth I swear I'm going home."

"okay, I'm done!" he said in yielding, waving his hands in the air. "where were we? ah, yeah, the part where I take off all your clothes. Shit, you're so beautiful!"

"Heeseung focus!"

"right, sorry."

original by @lvmazzy , 2023

3K notes · View notes

morallyinept · 2 months

Text

Azalea - A Lucien Flores One Shot

Summary: A man from your past shows up at a party and leaves you on the cusp of making a life changing choice. Do you stay, or do you leave with him?

Pairing: Lucien Flores x F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It’s you, bub. However Reader has hair long enough to be brushed over their shoulder and wears a dress.)

Word Count: 4.8k

Scoville Smut Rating:🌶️🌶️🌶 “You tell me I’m doing well, and then, you try to kill me”

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Warnings/Triggers: Unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks!)/fingering/oral F recieving/mild ass play/kissing/infidelity/mentions of past issues with alcolholism and addiction/toxic relationship traits/unrequited love and longing/Lucien's chains come with their own warning

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ.☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.

I write for me, and I share with you. If this story isn't to your taste, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: I get the sense (from the little clips we've seen of Lucien so far) that he's in love, and probably loves hard, and is messy and complicated with a turbulent past, and isn't a bad guy at all. So here he is, my version. I hope you like him. 😘 (I've used some of his lines from the clips we've seen too.)

MAIN MASTERLIST | LUCIEN FLORES MASTERLIST | FLORA & FAUNA MASTERLIST

Enjoy! 🖤

As guests mingle and laughter fills the air in the grand house, you can’t shake off the heavy feeling of discontent grinding sharply around your teeth.

As you stand invisible amongst the cluster of your braying friends, you can't help but cast a wistful gaze back towards the brown eyes staring at you from across the room, loitering casually with a hand in his pocket and lips wrapped around a cigarette.

It makes your skin itch and pickle that he's here.

How is it that he’s fucking here?

He’s like a ghost haunting the hollows of your bones. A constant white noise that only you can hear.

He looks good, well. Better.

He has colour in the capillaries of his cheeks again, and the way he stands is different, he seems taller somehow, a little more grey and wispy, but still handsome. He’s put on a little weight, a small paunch evidence of that. He appears more foreboding with those squared-off shoulders in their thick broadness.

He smirks at you, he never smiles. Just smirks, crookedly and you look away immediately. Those itches and prickles melting into warm heat that floods down your spine.

Fuck, why is he here?

You turn your attention to Mitch, basking in the spotlight of adulation. His animated gestures and booming laughter echo out through the open windows, mingling with the soft strains of music drifting from within the dining room.

Guests cluster around him, hanging onto his every word; their faces alight with admiration and respect. And it makes you fucking sick.

You slip away unnoticed, carrying a bottle of open and warm champagne, seeking solace amidst the blood red azaleas in the expansive garden.

You’re drinking from the bottle of flattening fizz bitterly, leaving your partner toasting his fortune and parry, and there’s tension swirling around your gut that hasn’t died down since the vicious verbal spat you endured the previous night with him.

Your jaw still aches from clenching it all night.

As the celebration in the house continues, the siren call of the garden seems to provide a contrasting haven for you amidst the vibrant azalea bushes that grow plush and full.

An immediate sense of relief washes over your clammy skin, being away from the pomp and grandeur of the party inside, where Mitch holds court with his characteristic charisma. Mitch is a man of stature, exuding an air of confidence that borders on total arrogance.

Tonight's gathering is, after all, in honour of the recent success of his book - a testament to his hard ambition and callous drive. You have no idea what it’s about. You’ve not read it, tiring of your opinions and input being constantly quashed.

Mitch moves through the crowd with ease, regaling guests with anecdotes of his success and achievements, which doesn’t care to highlight the months of patience and suffering you’ve endured whilst he wrote it; his crackling laughter mingling with the clinking of glasses and the hum of vibrant conversation.

Despite the outward display of celebration, you can't shake off the underlying tautness swirling in your gut, lingering from the fight that still hovers between you both. Mitch's ego often overshadows the relationship, and controls it, leaving your own feelings and desires overlooked and unappreciated.

And as you find welcome loneliness in the garden, a fucking moment to just breathe, you can't help but wonder if Mitch has even noticed your absence amidst the ass-kissing bestowed upon him.

Well, it's all about having the right mindset, you see. I've always been driven by success, and I refuse to settle for anything less than the best...

You roll your eyes at Mitch's self-congratulatory tone that follows out the windows and berates you further. It’s moments like these that remind you of the growing chasm between you, feeling a pang of disconnection, a sense of longing for something more profound than the superficial trappings of hollow success.

You find yourself retreating deeper into the shadows of the garden, seeking pause amidst the fragrant blooms with the champagne bottle as your only companion.

And then, startled by a familiar voice, one that grates on you for completely different reasons, you find yourself vis-a-vis with your ex-boyfriend, Lucien Flores, who’s unabashedly shown up uninvited.

Somehow inserting himself back into your life in blocks of time to taunt you further no doubt. The tension between you is palpable as you exchange awkward looks amidst the blossoming flowers under the moonlit sky.

His molten brown eyes are soft and deep as he smirks in your direction as you cast an aloof glace over your shoulder at him that is anything but. You swig on the bottle like his presence hasn’t jangled your nerves tenfold, but you both know that it has.

You can feel his eyes wandering and burning holes across your body framed in a cascade of vibrant crimson fabric; its rich hue contrasting beautifully against the wild backdrop of the garden. With every step, the hem of the dress brushes against the dew-kissed grass as you turn from him and head further into the darker recesses of the plush oasis.

Lucien follows, checking behind him to make sure you’re both still alone.

Lush greenery envelopes the space, with vibrant bursts of blood colour provided by the clusters of azalea bushes in full bloom, their delicate petals casting a gentle fragrance into the air. He watches as your fingers brush through their leaves and velvety heads as you pass.

Stone pathways wind their way through the verdant landscape, leading to secluded alcoves, where you find yourself now with Lucien’s presence engulfing the small space.

“This isn't really a good time for your bullshit, Lucien." You say, as you drink from the bottle again, feeling a trickle of its nectar within roll down your chin.

“I wanted to see you, amante," (lover) he says, nonchalantly.

You wince at the endearing nickname he used to shower you with, whispers of it keening from a set of explorative lips as they inked the affectionate moniker under your skin.

“Really.” You snort rather ungraciously. “Why are you even here?”

He drags on the last of his cigarette, smoke billowing from pink lips, before flicking it away, its embers dying in the night. “Can we talk?”

You shake your head adamantly. “We never just talk. You know I'm with someone else now."

“Yeah. Mitch.” He nods over to the house, the party still in full swing. “Quite the catch.” He slurs with a strained hiss, then smirks.

“He wants kids,” you scoff.

And Lucien’s face softens. “You’d be a great mom.”

“I don’t want to be a mom.” You confirm and he nods.

“I know. That's why I got the snip.” His eyebrow flexes in sympathy. “Remember that summer in Tuscany?”

You shake your head again. “We never went to Tuscany.”

He thinks for a second through the haze and frowns. “No, that’s right. That was Annabelle.” He corrects with a dip in his cheeks. He simply clicks his tongue at his mistake.

“Right. Annabelle.” You bristle. “How is she these days?” Although you don’t really care.

“We should go.”

“To Tuscany?” You baulk.

“Yeah, let's go. Right now. Slip away.” He suggests with a warm seriousness.

“Lucien-”

“Kiss me.” He steps in gently and you place a palm on his chest; the silk of his shirt like fluid under your touch.

Your eyes trail over the shiny watercolour of it, the way it hangs flimsy and baggy at the hem before you brave yourself to trail upwards over the familiar shape of his chest and exposed collarbone, shiny with sweat in the hollow. A duo of gold chains knotted around one another twinkle at you before your eyes find his own.

“You are so unfair.” You shake your head despondently.

“You’ve wanted to kiss me since you saw me tonight.” Lucien states, casually. You feel him take the bottle from your fingers and he drinks a mouthful of it for himself.

“I thought you were sober.” You frown.

“I am, but I still drink.”

You roll your eyes as he clears his throat and puts the bottle down.

“I don’t even know why you’re here tonight. Who invited you?” You question with a knitted brow. You’re pretty certain he doesn't know anyone here. Except you.

You he knows really well. Too well.

He looks at you for a moment, head dipped and cocked to one side as if taking you all in.

“You’re not happy.” Lucien says, brushing your hair over your shoulder and it lingers there, his fingers in your roots gently massaging.

You turn, your nose brushing the inside of his wrist and inhale the scents there. The sun, the natural salt musk of his skin, cigarettes. You close your eyes just basking in the innocent feel of him. He was always so generous with his touch.

“No, I'm not.” You turn your face up to meet his. You can't lie to him, not when he sees you - really sees you. “But I wasn’t happy with you either.”

“I am sober.” He reassures, dropping his hand. “Eight months. I have control of my life now.”

“Right.” You fold in on yourself. You can’t go there. You refuse to go there.

“I came here to apologise to you.” Lucien says, stepping back and casting his glance down the pathway back at the house and its design.

“Is that what your sponsor suggested you do?” You remark.

“Is it Venetian?” He asks.

From the outside, the house exudes an air of opulence, with its intricate facade adorned with ornate columns and graceful archways reminiscent of palazzos.

You shrug, watching him carefully as he frowns.

“I never knew Mitch had such exquisite taste." Lucien smirks with a sneer.

“He doesn’t. It’s his parent’s second home. We’re renting it for the summer. His stupid book tour.” You mutter.

"Pshoo. Fancy." He shakes his head. “No, my sponsor didn’t tell me to come here to apologise to you.”

He turns back to you, his features soft and moulding into concern at your watery eyes looking back at him.

“You seem... melancholy." You feel his thumbs stroke either side of your face and this time you don’t stop him. Just helplessly letting those rough, calloused pads swipe over the skin under your eyes.

“You’re all glittery and sad,” Lucien says, looking at the metallic shadow brushed delicately over your eyelids.

“Why are you doing this?” You query, deflating. Surrendering.

“Doing what?”

“Torturing me.”

“You think this is torture?” Lucien asks, stroking your cheeks delicately. “It got dark. I wanted to see the sun again.”

Your breath catches in your throat as he presses a long, lingering kiss to your forehead.

A phantom sensation dances across your skin - a gentle caress, feather-light and tender in its hesitation. In that brief, ethereal moment, you feel transported back to a time when what you and Lucien had was untarnished by the shadows of addiction and betrayal - a time when his touch had been a balm to your weary heart.

And you missed the sun too.

He walks with you, guiding you backwards to the craggy, stone wall encased in the curve of the dark. You can still see his eyes as they drop to your lips and you remember the taste of him, choking on the smoke of him as he draws nearer to your face.

A hushed conversation stirs your attention from the other side of the wall. A faint, muffled voice drifts through the thick stone wall, and your heart clenches as you recognize Mitch's unmistakable tone.

Lucien covers your mouth gently with an engulfing, warm hand as he ghosts his nose gently over the skin of your neck.

It's hard to focus as you inhale a faint remant of his heady cologne, but on the other side of the wall you can hear your partner Mitch on the phone; his voice dripping with honeyed affection that he hasn’t used with you for a long time.

Lucien pulls back as you push against his chest, standing straight, his palm flat against the wall above your head as he listens out curiously with you.

I can’t stop thinking about you either, darling…

Lucien’s eyes drop to yours, his smirk dipping. “He’s fucking someone else?” He mouths.

You nod. You’ve suspected it for a while now and are only more confounded as to why you haven’t left him yet.

"Pendejo." (Asshole/idiot) Lucien bites in a growl.

As he’s speaking beyond the wall to his clandestine lover, Lucien pulls back, standing upright and shaking his head.

Your hands clench into fists at your sides, your nails digging into your palms as Mitch waves his infidelity around the garden so casually.

His voice eventually fades out and Lucien takes one of your fists, unkinks your fingers, and brings your palm up to his mouth where he kisses it gently, eyes lancing at you, deep and entracing.

“Fuck him. Come with me to Tuscany.” Lucien drawls.

You wrinkle your nose. “What about Annabelle?”

He shrugs. “It didn’t work out.”

“Why am I not surprised?” You snort.

“Wasn’t the drinking.” He says, shaking his head and cupping your hand in between both of his ginormous ones. “Sober, remember?”

“You just drank from the champagne, I'm not an idiot.”

“Proof.” He says. “Proof that I can control it now.”

“You’ll never be able to control it.”

He nods. “Yeah, not without help. And I have help.”

You sigh and he looks at you earnestly pressing your hands to his chest. You can feel the ribbing of his heartbeat underneath them.

“I ended things with Annabelle ages ago.”

“Why? She was good for you.”

He breaks off with a garbled sigh amd swallows. You watch as he stares intonthe distance, and then he smirks.

“Do you remember when you threw my keys over the fence?”

“Don’t change the subject. Why did you leave her?” You say, fearing the answer.

“She’s not… you.” Lucien kisses your palm again and you can only watch him. Watch, rooted to the spot, heart thudding as he kisses slowly up your wrist and arm.

"I can't be with someone I don't love." He says simply.

You know it’s empty promises and hollow words as he paints this fantasy of a forever with him on your skin with his hot tongue. And it’s an illusion you’ll happily let yourself fall into for a while because it seems almost better than your current reality.

So you kiss him back. Pulling him by the lapels of his thin shirt until his lips are felt against yours, desperately.

He kisses you like the first time, when he was unsure and flighty. Before he became the man who broke your heart and left you walking barefoot on the shards of it.

His hands roam your face, cupping your cheek, thumbs stroking again as you feel his body crush against yours. Hips winding into your belly as he gasps around the taste of your lips.

You both part, panting and wanting, his deep eyes searching you out. He knows you’re in there somewhere, knows you’re better than this life, and also the one he tried - and failed - to give you.

Amidst the confusing turmoil, you can't ignore the unspoken longing lingering between you both, a palpable undercurrent of tension and desire on both parts.

He’s crushed tightly against you, bleeding into the shadows of the stone wall propped up behind you and your skin alike. You can almost feel the thrum of his heartbeat against yours, aquiline nose brushing up the side of your jaw inhaling the sweet scents of you that make his mouth water and his cock stiffen into your gut.

His hand pulls at the silk of your belt and your dress falls open, cascades of rich velvet and silk opening for his hands to roam gently over your naked skin.

You feel a rush of warmth flood your body despite the cool breeze puckering your nipples - warmth at the way Lucien looks at you, marvelling at you.

At the way he touches you, reigniting the sparks that you ensured you snuffed out a long time ago. You shudder at Lucien’s tender touch, the way his fingertips barely glide across your exposed skin, your weak heart fluttering in response to the raw vulnerability you see reflected back in his eyes.

You find yourself leaning into Lucien’s touch, finding solace and comfort in the unspoken connection that has always lingered between you both, despite everything. In that moment, amidst the fragrant blooms and the moonlit shadows, that small nagging thought mutates, that perhaps the love you’d always been searching for had been right here, in his stacked arms all along.

You shake your head, quickly gathering your wits and wrapping the dress around your body.

“We can’t do this.” You croak, trying to convince yourself of it despite all the blood in your veins rushing towards your centre and throbbing like a jungle drum.

“Yes we can.” Lucien assures. “I’ve fucking missed you, amante.”

It stops you in your tracks.

The words hang in the air, sharp and raw, teetering on the edge of a dreamy possibility that you’ve only allowed yourself to relive in the dark corners of your mind in quiet moments of a self-loathing masochism you allow yourself to harbour.

You feel his thick fingers on the tips of yours, a delicate yet invading touch that spreads its poison quickly and renders your resolve to crumble at your feet.

Any thoughts of regret are pushed aside as you wrap your arms around him and kiss him again.

Lucien worships your body as he trails his mouth over your naked breasts, sucking nipples into his mouth as he pushes you back against the wall. You gasp, already squirming and clenching as his lips leave more devastation.

He makes out with your stomach, dipping his tongue lavishly into your belly button as he sinks to his knees. Your fingers knot in his hair, tugging gently as you wind fluffed, messy curls around them.

Lucien turns you with ease in his large hands, gathering your dress to the side, and kisses across your butt, biting the pert cheeks of them softly into his mouth as his hands pry them apart and his tongue makes lewd discoveries that make you gasp into the wall.

He crushes you to him, wrapping his arms around your thighs and forcing his face further in between your cheeks as you reach behind and rake desperately through his hair.

Running his tongue around the tight knot of your skin, and your mind can't help to revisit all the times when he claimed it with his fingers and cock too.

He kisses over the dimples of your thighs, all around them, under them, the backs of your knees - just everywhere and anywhere he can run his scuffed lips against.

Turning you again, he stares at your cunt inches from his nose, that’s soaking through the flimsy, black lace panties you’re wearing.

“He doesn’t fucking deserve you.” Lucien growls, looking up at you. “I don’t fucking deserve you.”

“No, you don’t.” You breathe resolutely. But you pull your panties aside and he gasps as you yank him forward by the back of his head.

He groans out in sweet relief as soon as his tongue makes contact, swiping into your soaked folds.

His hands run up the back of your thighs as he squeezes your ass, pushing your sopping cunt further onto his mouth.

“Yes, Lucien, get in there… get right in there,” you pant as your eyes roll back.

You struggle to stay upright, your body like jelly as you feel yourself slipping against the ragged stone wall against your skin.

He pries you open with his thumbs, licking over the shiny, wet bead of your clit and your thighs shakes uncontrollably. He brutally sucks it, flicking his tongue over and over in his determination to make you unravel.

He won’t stop until you come, you know this. He always was a generous lover in carefree abundance. Far from what you’re used to now - Mitch hasn't touched you in months, and the thought of it makes your skin crawl.

Lucien’s tongue works you up quickly, lapping and gliding expertly as he mouths on you exquisitely. You hear him grunt in hunger and want as he pulls you onto him further; his blunt fingertips pressing bruises into your ass cheeks as he grips tighter onto you, your hips winding into his face.

“Lucien…” you whine as you bubble and brew.

His eyes look up at you, mouth and nose buried into your core as you come; the silvery moon bathing your face in sweet, adoring kisses through its crescent smile as your body heats and your bones shake.

He lets you taste it as he rises up and kisses you, slipping his honey coated tongue back between your lips as you groan.

"Taste so fucking good." He groans.

His fingers attack your pussy, sliding in and pumping fast as you gasp. Clutching onto his shoulders, the silk bunches up around them in knotted waterfalls spilling over your knuckles as you claw and squeeze.

“Come for me again, baby.” Lucien encourages in a low, deep tone. Eyes watching you as the shadows of the alcove play over his ragged face like Rorschach inkblots.

“I’m gonna fuck you right here, amante,” he grunts as you squeeze and contract around his fingers brushing over your spot. “And then I’m gonna take you away from here, away from that piece of shit, and fuck you again. And again.”

“Lucien, please…” you whimper.

“We belong together, baby. I fucking love you.” He mumbles into your lips. “I never stopped. Not once. And I know you didn’t either. And I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, baby... come for me, that's it, let go... come... Fuck, you're so beautiful.”

You cry out as your orgasm floods your body and his fingers. Your body shakes beyond your control, eyes glazed over and lost in a tumble of his sweet ramblings and bewitching ministrations.

“Come here.” Lucien reaches to his fly as he kisses your neck. His heady grunts sound like gravel in your ears, breath warming you with the acrid scent of smoke seeping into your pores.

He hoists your leg up over his thick arm, his hand coming to rest on your face again as you feel him run his cock through your folds. He dips his hips low as he breaks on through inside you.

“You feel that, you feel that all the way?” He asks, as he slides all the way in and out again.

“Lucien!” You gasp, your lips nipping onto his as you feel him pack you out. You never forgot the feel of him, so hard and thick.

"That's it, baby. Back where I belong."

His pants are desperate; puffy little breaths that soon grow into laboured whines of lusty need. Drunk off of you completely, sobriety smashed in an instant.

He vowed to stay away, to let you heal and move on, but he’s selfish. He knows he is. He can’t abstain, can’t ever quit you. It’s why he’s here, fucking another man’s woman because he’s selfish. Sabotaging every relationship he’s had since you, trapped in that cycle.

Basking in the addictive feel of your cunt squeezing around him as you come, watching as your eyes soar into the sky, howling his name into his mouth as he tastes your tongue and sucks on it greedily.

"Fuck, you feel so good." He grunts.

He comes inside you, filing you full, but he still keeps pumping, still keeps himself buried inside of you, fucking deep and slow. Unable to pull himself out of you, unable to be parted from you now that he has you back inside his hands.

You clutch on tighter to him, not wanting this to end; wanting to indulge in this secret shame in the back of the garden you've allowed yourself to wallow freely in.

He feels so good, so warm and thick. He peppers your face with kisses, the silk scruff of his jawline smooth against your cheeks. Your fingers coil in the curls behind his ears and the back of his bronzed neck, damp with sweat.

They tangle in the chains, one that you're pretty certain in your cock-addled haze that was a gift from you that he still wears - you pull him closer to you still.

“Come inside me again, Lucien,” you whisper as he pecks over your face gently.

“I wanna spend forever coming inside of you,” he whispers back, voice breaking.

And you know he means it. He always means what he says, it's just the follow through is often lost in translation. He’s not a bad man, you know this in your heart.

You spent days convincing your reflection in the mirror that he's not a bad man; he was just weak when you needed him to be strong - an unravelling mess. But he was your mess for time.

And now that he’s inside you again like this, so uncouthly unperturbed that anyone could venture down here and see him claiming you, you know a part of you still loves him too.

You believed it when he said he loved you and you suspect he probably hasn’t loved anyone else like he loved you.

It was raw, unfiltered. Intense. You know it because you felt it too. It hurt, viscerally. Consumed you both and spit you out.

A gaping wound that you’ve not been able to stitch up and every day you’re bleeding out. You wanna tell him how much it fucking hurt to watch him willingly drown, inadvertently pulling you under with him.

You want to lash out and scratch at his beautiful face, slap him and bite and bruise him like he bruised you.

But instead you kiss him, you hear him falter and become weak inside your ear and he groans and whimpers your name as he comes once more.

You let him flood you again, feel it dripping down your thighs, thick and warm as he stains your skin with him all over again.

In the afterglow of your post-coital bliss, your hand traces the contours of his weathered face, running lightly through the wiry greys along his jaw.

Lucien nestles into your palm, lips finding the skin to press in a kiss.

You want to believe it, you want to believe he’s changed and grown and learnt. That he's spent time reflecting, healing.

But you're still marred with the splinters of hurt that’ve lacerated your heart.

Looking into the rich, warm browns of melted chocolate, flecked with golden hues that dance like sunlight on water, you allow yourself to remember the days when Lucien was your everything.

When his gruff, nicotine soaked laughter was the sound that filled your days, and his touch chased away any fears you could harbour.

The ways he would fuck you for hours into the night; his sweat soaking into your skin, as you gnawed on his shoulder, like perfume you’d wear for days without showering him away.

You remember the first time you noticed the signs - the subtle scent of hard liquor on his breath, the empty bottles hidden away in the depths of your home in the most unusual of places. At first, you’d dismissed it as stress or a passing phase, but as the weeks turned into months, the truth became impossible to ignore.

You’d watched helplessly as Lucien spiralled further into the grip of his addiction, his once-charming demeanour giving way to bouts of anger and despair that would paint your bathroom in plumes of his vomit. You remember the sleepless nights spent drowning in tears, the ache in your chest that refused to relent, the biting emptiness that hollowed out your soul into a pair of unblinking eyes and a heart cemented over.

You wonder if that’s why you’re with Mitch now. Wonder if perhaps that this is all you deserve; that you’ll never be happy, so what's the point in trying to fight for it?

The nights had become endless cycles of fear and uncertainty, each day a desperate struggle to hold your crumbling world together. You’d become withdrawn, adept at hiding the truth from your friends and family, plastering on a smile to conceal the pain.

But amidst the chaos and despair, there had been moments of hope - fleeting glimpses of the man you had once loved, the man buried beneath the weight of his addiction and trying to swim out of it.

And though you had often questioned your decision to stay as long as you did, you can't deny the flicker of love that still burns within you for him, the belief that perhaps, just perhaps, there’s still a chance for redemption.

And you hate yourself for allowing your mind to go there.

Lucien reaches to the bush and plucks an azalea off the stem and combs it behind your ear.

“Beautiful.” He says with a smile. Not a smirk, a smile.

“I can’t go back to that place, Lucien.” You say, shaking your head.

You stare out at the house and the sounds of music and chatter still tinkle down the pathway towards you both.

“I know,” he says, running a hand through his hair listlessly.

You untangle the flower from your hair and look at it resting in your palm, the velvety petals smoothed out under your thumb as you stroke.

“But you can’t stay here, either.” His voice pulls you from your swampy thoughts.

"No," you agree. You turn to glance back at the house.

“Come with me,” Lucien pleads softly, deep eyes searching yours out. "What's stopping you, baby?"

Fingertips on your chin tilt you towards him. You tuck the flower inside his breast pocket and he looks forlorn as you do, eyes sinking and any trace of a smile vanishing.

You wrap your dress around your waist and he watches you belt it up into a messy bow on your hip. You can still feel him pooling between your legs.

You take in a deep breath, a steadying one that seeks clarity through the confusion, and inhale the familiar, swarming fragrance of the azaleas one last time.

My first time writing for Lucien and I'd love to know your thoughts. I'd appreciate a re-blog too so others can read and enjoy. Thankies! 🖤

MAIN MASTERLIST | LUCIEN FLORES MASTERLIST | FLORA & FAUNA MASTERLIST

Tagging @secretelephanttattoo @rhoorl @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @undercoverpena @linzels-blog @avastrasposts @trulybetty

#pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #lucien flores #the uninvited #lucien flores x reader #lucien flores x you #lucien flores x f!reader #jett's writing

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hoshifighting · 3 months

Note

hihi!!

the urge to be brat tamed runs through my mind all day. but cheol taming his brat, SIGN ME THE FUCK UP!!!

covering your mouth and his veiny hands around your neck so your porn-like moans aren’t heard by his members.

making you suck his fingers and using your saliva as lube.

slapping you every time you moan a little to loud.

cum denial until the point where you’re literally screaming his name as if it’s your sole vocabulary begging him to let you cum while tears run down your fucked out face.

— the list goes on but here’s just a few to get a feel for!!

(literally love your posts sooooo much!!! keep up the good work ❤️)

BRAT-TAMER SEUNGCHEOL that's it.

Where Seungcheol gets jealous because his friend Jeongha, is all over you, even though your relationship is private, Seungcheol gets mad at your brat teasing. So he fucks you without mercy, separated by just one room from the members.

Word Count: 1.7k

Jealous dom! Seungcheol, Brat sub! Reader

Warnings: Smut, jealously sex, cum denial, slut shamming, begging, degradation, crying, angst, saliva as lube, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, bathroom sex, ass slapping, face slapping, chocking and etc.

The weekend getaway with Seungcheol and your friends had started out as a much-needed break. His friends were always very nice to you, and soon they became your friends too. The idea of renting a house for this period of rest sounded very pleasant. Everyone laughed, danced and sang, while you, Jeonghan and Mingyu cooked for the group.

As the day unfolded, you noticed Seungcheol's subtle glances whenever Jeonghan was around. Unbeknownst to your friends, your relationship with Seungcheol was still a secret, and the protective side of him was on full display.

Jeonghan pulled you into a hug, the kind that lasted just a tad too long, and a conversation that seemed a bit too personal. Seungcheol's reaction was swift, though subtle. His jaw clenched, and his eyebrows furrowed as he observed the scene. He couldn't shake off the unease that gripped him.

As Jeonghan continued to chat with you, Seungcheol's discomfort became more evident. Sensing something amiss, you looked at him and asked, "Hey, everything okay?" He nodded, but his locked jaw and the intensity in his gaze told a different story.

Before the tension could escalate, Jeonghan, with his ever-present charisma, pulled you away to join another conversation. You shot a puzzled glance at Seungcheol, but he merely nodded again, though this time, there was a palpable tension in the air.

Seungcheol couldn't take it any longer. He grabbed your arm gently, pulling you aside towards a nearby bathroom. Once inside, he closed the door behind him, his expression unreadable.

"What's going on, Seungcheol?"

"You're mine for now," he declared, his voice low and possessive. His eyes bore into yours, a mixture of frustration and desire. "I can't stand seeing him all over you like that," he admitted, his voice low but intense.

A mischievous grin played on your lips as you locked eyes with Seungcheol, your fingers gently tracing circles on his arm. "Well, someone seems a bit possessive," you teased, raising an eyebrow playfully.

Seungcheol's expression shifted to confusion, and he arched a thick eyebrow in response. His veins pulsed on his neck, a subtle display of the building anger beneath the surface.

"What do you mean?" he asked, his tone irritated

You chuckled, enjoying the playful banter. "You know, claiming me in the bathroom like that. It's almost like you want to tell the world we're together."

His eyes narrowed, the tension in his shoulders rising. "I never said that," he retorted, the veins on his neck more prominent now.

Leaning in, you whispered teasingly, "Maybe you just can't resist showing off your amazing girlfriend."

Seungcheol's jaw clenched, his frustration evident. "You're making it sound like I'm the one holding us back from going public.”

You couldn't resist pushing his buttons further. With a sly smile, you mimicked his serious expression, contorting your face into a comical version of his furrowed brows and arched eyebrow.

His eyes widened in disbelief. Before he could react, he lost his mind momentarily.

He pushed your body against the bathroom wall, a firm grip around your neck, while his lips brushed against yours. In the close proximity, he warned with a husky voice, "You're loosing your mind Y/N."

“Am I?” You couldn't help but laugh, the cut air from the choking making you gasp.

Seungcheol's grip tightened slightly, his lips hovering near yours. "You find this cool?" he questioned.

His eyes seemed to glow red furiously. The air grew thick as he sucked his teeth, not a hint of a smile on his face.

Before you could gauge his next move, he reached out, his fingers gripping the fabric of your sun dress. In one swift motion, he pulled you closer, the dress bunching up slightly.

With your dress in his hands, he pulls it up, revealing your panties, so he pulls them down hard, the lacy fabric immediately tearing in his hands. You gasp, denying to yourself "I didn't even like that one anyway..." Lie. It was your favorite.

His breath was strong against your face as he whispered, "You're mine, and I don't share.”

The possessiveness in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help but moan, feeling the wetness between your thighs.

"I'm gonna give you a lesson." Without breaking eye contact, he reached out, gently guiding your chin upward. His fingers traced along your jawline before he leaned in, whispering, "You need to learn who you belong to.”

His fingers traced a path along your lower lip, the touch sending a shiver down your spine. Without breaking eye contact, he slowly trailed his digits over your tongue, the intimate contact making your saliva envelop his skin.

You looked in his eyes, before sucking his two fingers, just like you would suck his cock. So he slowly pulled his fingers, making your lower lips flip back shiny with your saliva.

His wet fingers circled your clit slowly, making you hold onto him, his eyes burning you "You're such a brat," he remarked, the edge of amusement evident in his voice.

With a playful glint in your eyes, you shot back, "Well, maybe I like being a brat."

He chuckled, the tension dissipating into a teasing energy. "Do you now?" he asked, arching an eyebrow. His tone held a challenge as he continued, "Tell me, what's the appeal of being a brat, hm?"

You leaned in, a mischievous smile playing on your lips. "Maybe I enjoy seeing you lose your cool. It's kind of hot, you know?"

Without warning, he pushed his two fingers inside of you, making you groan. He curled his digits perfectly while his body pressed yours on the bathroom tiles, you looked to the mirror on your side, his big biceps flexing as he worked his skillfully fingers inside of you.

Your weeping cunt can be heard by him, the gushing sound hitting his senses as his fingers get wetter every second. "Look at you… So wet for me, and I didn't even started to fuck you."

"I get wet just by thinking about you getting mad."

"Yeah? Just to let you know… I am pissed off."

Without warning, he pushed your body, and you felt the cold tiles of the bathroom wall against your cheek. His strong grip held you in place, and the sudden shift left you breathless.

The sound of his belt being unbuckled echoed in the small space, you could sense Seungcheol's controlled anger. The forceful push of his big cock inside of your pussy, made you moan loud.

Before the sound could fully echo, Seungcheol's veiny hands covered your mouth, suppressing any further noise. Your eyes met his in the mirror, and your body ached against his, caught between the cold tiles and the heat radiating from Seungcheol.

He stopped his hips, his tip hitting your cervix, before taking everything out and slamming all in once inside of you again, his hands once again muffling a scream. "S-Seungcheol!"

Seungcheol gives you a harsh spank, making your body tremble, eyes closed tightly. Allowing you to take another breath, he takes his hand off your mouth. His voice, low and intense, broke the momentary silence. "You don't want the members to hear us, right?"

You can feel your walls clenching around his cock, sensing the know on your stomach wanting to be free, making him groan in response. The spongy little spot being abused with the strength of his dick knocking you.

Tears trickle down your face, your lip being bitten by yourself wasn't helping too much, as you feel your orgasm getting closer, the whimpering turning into moans, that turned into screams again.

Everytime you let out a moan escape, he gives you harsh slaps on the meat of your ass, the flesh turning red, as the skin burns like hell. "Be quiet," he instructed, his gaze locking onto yours in the mirror. His question lingered, "Is that what you want? Everyone to hear how good I am fucking you?"

Your gaze met Seungcheol's reflected eyes in the mirror, nodding yes, with a mischievous smile. Seungcheol's eyes held satisfaction, and the synchronized rhythm of his thrusts continued.

Seungcheol groaned in your ear, your weeping cunt tightening around him, and he could feel your walls milking his dick, as your world spinned, the moans leaving your throat non-stop, and he slapped you each time.

When entered on the brink of an orgasm, he pulled out his wet cock, making you whine between his grip and the wall. The denying made you sob, your clit begged attention, and your poor pussy was a mess.

Seungcheol coos at you "Slut… Can't even endure your own provocations…" his fingers wiped your tears away, before giving you a slap on the side of your cheek.

"P-please let me c-um" You begged, the tears shining with the bathroom light.

"Beg that prettily for me again."

"Please Seungcheol, I am f-ucking begging you babe." Your head lays on his shoulder.

He pushed his cock effortlessly inside of you again making you scream his name, your throat barely having power to speak. His fingers search to your sopping folds, collecting your arousal to masturbate your clit fast. And if it wasn't his tight grip on you, your knees would've found the ground already.

Seungcheol hips start to stutter, the rhythm becoming inconsistent, as a wet white ring forms around the base of his cock. His groans became more whiny, and his fingers followed a crazy unstopping pace. You struggled to breathe properly because you're more and more pressed on the wall with each thrust of him. Making your moans follow the same pace of his strokes.

"Oh my god! Please, please, pl-ease…" The begging sounded infinite as he fucked you merciless.

You're too fucked out to process anything, or hold your moans, suddently your head feels dizzy as your knees trembled, your mouth hanging open and you could only manage silent moans. The orgasm comes harshly, making you whine shakily.

His swollen cock throbs against your walls and he whimpered, with a trembling high, Seungcheol painted your walls white, the sticky cum dripping as his hips strokes lazily, his hands softening his grip on you.

"You know, I think it's time I tell the members that you're my girlfriend."

You scoffed, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "After all of that, I think they probably already know, Seungcheol."

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hyun0o · 3 months

Text

Her Favorite

[DOM! G!P Jennie x SUB! fem! reader]

[!SMUT!] & [FLUFF]

Summary: You and your older sister Nayeon went to Jennies penthouse to do a project together planning an all nighter to finish it, not knowing that you and Jennie will be up all night for a different reason...

Word count: 3.9k

(°=°): Been waiting to publish thiss, a pretty long read. I'm excited for what's about to come out for you guys. Enjoy (°3°)!

"God... You make me go insane Y/n"

(°=°)

7:06 PM

You and your older sister; Nayeon arrived at her best friends luxurious penthouse where the entire floor of her place is empty due to her renting it all for less inconvenience and hussle from other people. Which is where you didn't get her logic, why would she buy a penthouse if she didn't want to socialize in the first place?

Nayeon said it's nothing deep because she's rich and can do what ever she wants. Which you agree, she can do what ever she wants. Although it really did make you curious about the older girl. She seems to have so many mysteries, she has an appearance of an angel. Mellifluous voice to manipulate, her sexy body to seduce, and her sweet and rich smell to get you hooked of her presence immediately.

She's Kim Jennie, THE IT GIRL of her and Nayeons university, where is to which you wonder how she still doesn't have a boyfriend to spend some time on. By her looks alone, she could get anyone she wants. Al though, from what you've heard from Nayeons other classmates, she isn't really... The nicest girl, she is cold with both her looks and personality. Not wanting to do anything with other people that she doesn't find important.

Nayeon is her bff ever since childhood and so, you got to know her when the older girls were in highschool. Ever since then she grew fond of you, she nicknamed you baby since you were the maknae(youngest) of the house, but in general, she calls you every sweet names there is in the world.

And so in return, you nicknamed her Nini, it was simple yet cute at the same time. But as you grew older, you can't help but fall for the older girl, she's so sweet, so caring, so gentle, and so kind to you. It's like she feels the same way as you. But of course, you can't get ahead of yourself.

A knock was made by your sister while you wave at the cctv door. Feeling a little nervous, hoping that no one else was taking Jennies time. Sounds selfish but you wanted Jennies pampering to you only. She always asks how your day was going, if you've eaten yet, if you're comfortable, if you're having fun, if you're hungry, and if you need her. She felt like another older sister to rely on and yet you have completely fallen for her. But everyone has skeletons in their closets, and this night is where you discover your Nini's.

"Behave alright? Me and your Nini have to do a project together. Don't make her angry okay?" Nayeon reminded with a serious tone, her pretty round eyes shining with the light of the fancy wall lamp. She explained in the past how Jennie can get... Aggressive when angry but you've never made her nor seen her angry before have you? Recalling all your times together. She was just loving, sweet, clingy, and touchy to you. Whenever you acted a little bratty she never sounded irritated nor annoyed, so you've yet to see her in a scary state.

"I know, I already told you that I'd be okay alone at home. I don't want to bother you guys" You explained feeling a little guilty to be a nuisance to the older girls you look up to the most. Nayeon smiles and soon showed her adorable bunny tooth, her hand coming up to pet your head. You were used to such demeanor, being the youngest and having such lovable and charming charisma it's hard not to like you.

"Come on you big baby, I know you'd get bored when I'm not at the house. Besides I have to watch you just in case you do something stupid" The older girl laughed messing up your hair a little bit. You pout at her words, fixing your hair you soon huffed. "I'm old enough to be responsible unnie..." , Sulking at your older sisters tease. She apologize and quickly reasoned that her and jennie will need a stress reliever for the difficult project that was assigned to them. You hummed in response still pouting. And then finally, the door opened revealing Jennie with her luscious hair, sharp yet feminine features, and her full cherry lips looking kissable as ever. You soon looked at her outfit for the night. Short black cycling shorts letting her milky white legs get exposed and a pink cardigan over a white spaghetti strap making her breast look more defined. You slightly blush at such a majestic sight, stomach filled with butterflies. Her eyes met yours and she immediately broke a smile, her face growing soft.

"Hey guys... Sorry for the long wait, I was preparing for our little girls night in" She apologized and quickly opened the door for the both of you. Nayeon shook her head and said that it was okay since it was her home in the first place. She hugged her best friend tightly and with a big gummy smile. Thinking to yourself;

'How can someone be this beautiful?' Waiting for your turn for a welcoming hug, one the greetings you look forward with her the most. The two separated as she then hugged you, seemingly tighter than Nayeon. Hugging her back you can't help but notice her inhaling your scent, making you shiver a little. She snuggled at your neck and sighed. "So warm..." She whispered to only you can hear. Your cheeks immediately turning red.

"Come on you two we need to start so we could finish early" Nayeon chuckled, leading to you and Jennie to break the perfect hug. She grinned at you as Nayeon looked away, making you flustered. She came closer to you while walking towards the big living room.

"I missed you cutie, let's have fun tonight okay?" Jennie whispered while caressing your hand. Heart almost exploding, you nodded with excitement. Fantasizing the bonding you two will make for the night.

(°=°)

2:39 AM

The evening went well, with the two older girls spilling some unsaid tea together from their university, snacks being laid out on the glass coffee table that's mostly your favorite since they knew you were going to get bored, and rants about how the project was so hard and their professor didn't even teach how to accomplish it.

Jennies clinginess was never weird to you, infact you were delighted at the thought of the mean girl of the university had a soft spot for you. And of course making your little crush for her go insane when you two make physical contact. You eyed the bowl only half full of macaroons, you take one. Taking the cute pink macaron with your two fingers, you analyze its soft bread and smooth cream, you wonder if Jennie bought it or baked it herself. The older girl with feline eyes was clinging on to you for dear life, laptop on the table, comforter covering the both of your lower body, Jennies smooth legs intertwined with yours and sometimes rubbing them on your thighs making you shiver a bit, her body leaning towards you and her hands roaming on you upper body part, mostly on your tummy and smooth arms when she takes her breaks.

"Nini, did you bake this on your own?" You asked, referring to the cute macaroon between your fingers, she looked at your small hands and brushed her palm on your exposed thigh.

"I didn't baby, I bought it from a bakery down the street, do you want me to make those for you?" She asked softly, her hands going deeper to your inner thigh almost caressing your clit. Your legs twitched and slightly tightened at the sudden contact. She kept rubbing your inner thighs while making eye contact making your stomach bubble up and your pussy to get wet.

"N-nini..." You whimpered out nudely as she started to brush on your clit that's growing more hungry for her touch. She hummed and gets more bold, fingers running a cross your core leaving you to moan. She came closer to your ear,

"Answer my question baby. Don't make me wait" She said sternly, her fingers still in between you thighs while your pussy was throbbing for her. You look at the door of the room where your sister was sleeping soundly in since she really couldn't take the all nighter. It was shut tight and knowing Nayeon, she's a heavy sleeper. This was Jennies perfect time to make you hers and hers only.

"Y-yes...please make me a-ah!" You squealed as she put more pressure on your core. Tears rolling down your cheeks from the pain of needing pleasure. She licked your tears on your cheek and slowly kissed your lips. Her lips being soft and wet while putting her hands on your shoulder pushing you down on the couch and she put her knee in between you thighs for some friction. Still making out, your legs shook with the uneasy feeling. You always wanted to this with her but, does this mean your Nini loves you back? With the thought in your mind, she then kissed your pretty neck, leaving traces of her rosy lipstick and her hands groping your boobs. Your mind started to circuit as you didn't know what to do, your pussy won't stop throbbing and your needs for Jennie were just growing. Another moan left your mouth, Jennie standing up as she kept your head up to only letting your eyes go on her, no where else.

"Nini what are you doing..." You whispered with flushed cheeks. She sat between your legs but still a little taller. Looking up, you saw lust and hunger in her eyes, at this point you would do anything for her, even if it means losing your virginity to her. She reached for your hand and lead it up to her big breast letting you really feel her, she moans and cups your cheeks with one of her free hand. This turned you on even more, the pain growing sharply in your core.

"Fuck... like it baby? Want to feel your Nini more?" She asked with the most flirtatious smirk, you eagerly nodded basically moaning at the thought of being able to touch her. She made you rest on your back on the couch and took off her bra. Having full view of her glorious breast, you hesitated to touch them, looking at the older girl for consent. She chuckled and caressed your cheek once more.

"It's okay baby, come on. Touch your Nini, make me feel good..." She reassured, you felt like you were in a trance, Jennie looked like an absolute goddess on top of you. You started to fundle her boobs and flicked her nipples making her moan lowly. Jennies praises wasn't helping the still growing sensation from your pussy. Jennie lowered her body more and you immediately take her boob into your mouth. Sucking on her hard nipples while playing with her other boob.

"... Ah-ah, Yes baby, you know how to make me needy so bad..." Jennie whispered, rolling her eyes in the top her head. Her thick cock throbbing for your cunt. She's been fantasizing about you for years, fucking you in her pent house, in the university, in your own house when Nayeon is home so there's a thrill! She was obsessed with you, she wants to fuck you until all her cum is in your womb.

You felt hot at the praise, not being able to hold the pain, you stopped and looked up at Jennie with tearful eyes. String of saliva connecting your lips and her soft breast.

"Nini... It hurts...down there" You said as the tears rolled down with the blush never going away. Being this vulnerable was rare, but you can't take it anymore. Jennie was in awe, her baby was as needy as her. She then smirked and sat up, her cock visible in her cycling shorts. Rubbing her cock up and down getting excited by your tearful expression. Even when her dick was clothed, she still looked so big and thick, you didn't know if you could take all of her.

"Want me baby? Want me to make you cum until your legs are shaking?" She asked as she took of her shorts leaving her large cock to sprung out, standing on all its glory. It was so veiny with the tip having a cute shade of pink. But you can't help but feel nervous at her size. Your mouth was agape while panting, not realizing to yourself that you were drooling. Which Jennie found adorable, leaning down and licking your saliva on the corner of your lips.

"So cute... Ah, I just want to fuck you senselessly" She whispered, shivering from her dick making contact to your stomach, her pre cum visible. Gulping at the sight, you reached up and hugged Jennies neck, kissing her deeply. You could feel jennies grin in the kiss, her hands automatically going to your breast. She tasted like addicting cherries, probably from her chapstick, her tongue beating you over dominance making you moan into the kiss.

Jennie pulled away, making you whine at the fast end of the kiss. Saliva drooling on the sides of you mouth.

"Ni...ni..." You whined with a pleading face, this only made jennie more excited, she wanted you to plead for her every sign of affection. She made your mouth open with her soft finger tips and fingered your mouth with two fingers mixing you gag a little. She brushed on your tongue feeling weird but good at the same time. She then spat in your mouth making her own saliva on your tongue while still fingering your mouth.

"Swallow" Jennie ordered with her fingers still in your mouth, you immediately obliged, mouth closing in her fingers while swallowing her and your own saliva, shivering at her finger rubbing on your tongue. She gently pulled out and licked her entire fingers clean. Smirk forming on her lips while looking at your shocked and flustered face.

"Good job baby... you're such a good girl for your nini. I think it's time for your reward..." She licked her lips, going down to your clothed cunt. You were wearing a cute tennis skirt, one of Jennies favorite skirt for you to wear. She pushed the skirt to the side and licked your pussy with still your panties on. Flinching at the sudden sensation you put your hand on her hand and whimpered. Jennies cock growing impatient, she then sucked on your pussy finally getting a taste of you.

"A-ah nini!" You were so sensitive, anything can make you cum at this point, Jennie then took your skirt and panties off. As much as she loves that tennis skirt. She loves the thought of fucking you for the first time naked more, having the view of you perfect body all to herself more. Sitting up, she started to stroke herself as she asked if she could undress your upper part. You nodded, feeling a little bit embarrassed, but to jennie, she saw you as her perfect Y/n, your body having perfect curves that she longed to see, messy hair spread along the couch as a few strands was on your shoulder and arms, lips a little swollen from the make out session, and your eyes filled with tears from the pleasure and pain from the long anticipation.

Her cock can't help but twitch at the most beautiful sight. She bit her lip,

"Fuck... So pretty baby. I can't wait anymore..." She moaned hungrily, going down to your cunt and started eating you out with full passion and desire. You moaned out her name loudly, spreading your legs more for her to get more access. She then entered one finger in your pussy while still sucking on your clit. making you lose your senses. For waiting for such a long time, your sensitive bud can't help but cum fast.

"Please...god nini I-i can't" You stuttered, clawing at her hair and legs squeezing her head together, signaling her that you're about to finish. She raised her hand and intertwined it with yours once more, as she entered another finger and fastened her pace, curling her fingers, making you lean over the edge. Cumming all over her face while not being able to control your loud moans. Hips bucking, legs shaking, tears forming, and mouth drooling from such orgasm.

The sweat on your body, shining perfectly to make you glow. Hand covering your mouth while panting, trying to catch your breath.

"So good baby, good job..." Jennie whispered while drawing circle on your pretty stomach. Making you shiver, your eyes closing and feeling Jennies touch all over your body.

"Think you can take me now baby?" She asked positioning her tip to only brush on your entrance teasingly. You don't think you can, but you'll try for your Jennie. However, something dawned you, before saying anything you thought of what will happen tomorrow morning and how your relationship will change in the future. More over, what's your relationship right now? Are you still friends?, lovers?, flings?, fuck bodies?! You start to panic, you love the older girl so much, but you don't want to be connected through just hot sex. And you definitely don't want to act like this never happened tomorrow. And then another hard thought hit you right in the heart, what if she distance herself from you? Feeling uncomfortable or even disgusted on what will happen if you continue. You started to cry and gently pushed Jennie off with a pained expression.

The feline eyed girl immediately sensed something was wrong. She thought you wanted it as much as she did. So what's wrong with her Y/n? "Love what's wrong? Are you not ready? Uncomfortable, feeling sick? What is is?" She asked so gently, you cant help but cry even more feeling guilty for denying her release. You shook your head avoiding eye contact while attempting to stand up and leave the couch, but your wonky and sensitive legs weren't helping. Jennie immediately stood up to help you from behind as support.

"I-i gotta go..." You whispered while snuffling, head down with still shaking legs with Jennie's arms wrapped around your hips trying to help you stand up without your legs giving out. Jennies eyes widened, she can't let you leave just like that, she will do everything for you to be hers and for her to be yours. "I don't get it love what's wrong please... I can't live a day with the thought of me doing something wrong to you, please... Talk to me my girl" Her voice trembled with the fear of losing you, she rested her head on your shoulder with her lips making contact with your soft skin. You stayed silent, not wanting to sound entitled of her feelings. Who were you for Jennie to love back right? A long wait of silence that felt like an eternity passed, you felt sudden wet and warm tears on your shoulder. Jennie was crying, biting her lips and tightening her hug on you, she can't let the girl of her dreams get away.

"Please..." She pleaded shutting her eyes tight letting her tears flow down even more. You can't do it anymore, your heart can't ache this much for the person you loved the most.

"I love you nini... I love you s-so much, I'm scared that if we do this... everything will change. I want to be your lover. Not just someone who can pleasure you...." You confessed, voice cracking from such pain and sadness you were in. Your heart beating so fast to the point where you can hear every single pump of blood it made.

"Who said I didn't love you?" Jennie asked in you ear, her hand intertwining with yours. She then gently made you face her, seeing her all messy and tearful, it made you feel guilty.

"My Y/n, I love you so much... Maybe a little too much. So never assume that my love for you has limits" She reassured you, your mouth quivering from such heart warming words." So please Y/n, let me declare my love to you, and make you mine and only mine" She promised with determine eyes and lips. The butterflies again reappearing in your stomach. You can't lose anything at this point, and you trust her so much. The feeling of desire of her got back. Smiling, you nodded.

"Please... Please show me how much you love me Nini..." And that was enough to set Jennie off. Taking your hand once more, and she took you to her master bedroom. Pushing you down on the soft comforter you can't help but smile knowing that you both love each other so much. Remembering Jennies words and how much she would do anything for you. "Ready my love?" She asked, rubbing on your bud for you to be more wet. You nodded with a smile and kissed her lips.

"I love you my Nini" you whispered and with those words, she felt eager for you to cum. "I love you more baby" She declared with such a soft voice. She entered inside you, slow and gentle since she knew this was all new to you. Arching your back at her size you close your eyes while grinding on you teeth. "You okay baby?" She asked still trying to make you comfortable with her hand on you cheek. You nodded, the feeling of excitement started as Jennie was almost completely in. Her cock stretching you out on all the right places. You were about to go insane! Whimpering with all the pleasure and pain at the same time, Jennie was breathing heavily. She can't help it, you felt so tight and warm she just wanted to ram inside you hard. You soon noticed Jennie who was frozen in place fighting the urge to thrust in you in the most hardest way possible.

"It's okay Nini... please take me as you like" You smile reassuringly, as long as Jennie was happy you we happy. She Lowered her body and soon kissed your ear while slowly thrusting, hands roaming around your body. "Thank you so much baby, just tell me when to stop..." She whispered all so lovingly, the room starting to get filled with moans and nude sounds from the fastening pace of Jennies hips. Her cock hitting all the amazing spots that leads to your orgasm.

You hear Jennie curse under her breath as she sat up still fucking you hard, bed dancing along her pace. "So fucking pretty baby... My Y/n..." She groaned going even more faster, acting like this is the last time she can fuck you. Your eyes watering again for the hundredth time this night, you whimpers grew louder with the pleasure Jennie was giving you. The familiar feeling forming in you stomach.

"A-ah Nini wait... I'm.." You rambled not being able to finish your sentence as you kept you focus on your coming orgasm with Jennie going even more harder giving emphasis in her thrusts with an amazing rythm. Hands gripping on the sheets with an arc back, you came with angelic moans that sent Jennie over the edge as well, with her cum painting your walls and inside your womb. But still not stopping, she kept thrusting with stuttering hips from her climax. "W-wait unnie I can't!" You got taken a back, your pussy was so sensitive and it only hugged jennies cock more with her warm cum still inside you. She didn't even get limp, in fact you think she only got harder from the orgasm. Still going with a fast pace that the room was echoing with full skin slapping and moaning from the both of you, you felt like fainting, you were getting too overstimulated but god did it feel amazing.

An unfamiliar feeling formed in your stomach, from too much pleasure you felt like something was coming but this time, much more intense. "Unnie I-I ah-!" You moaned while she thrusted even faster and harder making sure to pleasure you. You soon whimpered out while squirting all over jennie. Your hips bucking and stuttering while Jennie got more hungry to cum in you. "God baby you squirted? So good.... Fuck more baby do it again for me?" She asked and when you thought she couldn't fuck you more hard and good, she did! Abusing your already tired cunt out to its limits. Your moans grew louder and louder with the tears rolling down your cheeks none stop. Jennie wanted more, she wanted you to feel insane with the sensation, putting pressure on your bud and soon rubbed it through circular motions. You immediately screamed in pleasure getting close again.

"Fuck I just w-wanna cum in you until I'm dry...god... you make me go insane Y/n" She confessed with one last thrust making you squirt non stop and while she completely came in you with shaking hips, this time she thrusted every pump of cum that came out and into your pussy so you can get all of it, with every thrust you squirted your juices out. You felt bliss all over your body, your stomach feeling so warm and full with tear stains on your cheeks. Jennie catching her breath while watching you tremble and shake from such pleasure that she caused you. She pulled a smirk and went down to kiss your cute lips and soon bit it causing for blood to seep into both of your mouths. Was this heaven? You asked yourself feeling warmth from the girl you loved so much. You two separated from the lack of air, but neither of you wanted to stop, Jennie with her sharp gaze on you, she licked her lips and formed a mischievous smile,

"Ready for round three my baby?"

(°=°')

4:02 AM

After the heaven and bliss that you two experienced, Jennie did after care for you. She can't let her princess go to bed uncomfortable. Bathing you with her scented soap and bath salt making you smell like her. Not forgetting to make you hers for the last time for the night, confessing both of your love to each other.

A/N:

This took me foreverrrrr. Anyways I love this one, I hope you guys enjoyed. Belated happy birthday to my baby jennie!, this was supposed to come out on her bday but I was busy with things. Also I accidentally deleted a request post while writing it so now the req is gone (°^°) I'm working on the req rn I'm so sorry for the long wait anon!

(°=°)

#jennie #kim Jennie #jennie blackpink #blackpink #jennie x female reader #smut #fluff #hyun #jennie x reader #yn #blackpink x reader #twice #nayeon #im nayeon #pang

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valaenatargaryensdragon · 7 months

Text

Whispers of Desire

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x twin!reader

summary: Finally betrothed, the twins are more than happy.

Word count: 2,9K

Warnings: smut, P in V, Daddy kink, Orgasm denial

The Red Keep in King’s Landing stood as a majestic backdrop to the grand feast held in honor of the engagement between Aemond Targaryen and his twin sister, Aerra. The Great Hall was resplendent with crimson and gold decorations, echoing the colors of their House. Lords and ladies from across the Seven Kingdoms had gathered to celebrate this momentous occasion.

Aerra, the lively and effervescent twin, was at the heart of the festivities, as always. Her fiery charisma and vivacity had the guests enthralled. She moved gracefully through the hall, engaging in lively conversations, twirling on the dance floor, and enchanting all who crossed her path.

Aemond, on the other hand, couldn’t hide the green-eyed monster that had taken root within him. He watched as Aerra shared laughter and danced with lords and knights, and a deep sense of jealousy consumed him. His martial prowess and fierce determination had earned him respect, but tonight, it felt as if all eyes were on his sister.

Rhaenyra, their elder sister, noticed Aemond’s growing frustration. She excused herself from her own admirers and approached him. “Aemond, you seem troubled. Is something amiss?”

He sighed, his violet eyes betraying his inner turmoil. “Rhaenyra, I can’t help but be jealous of Aerra. It feels as if I’m always in her shadow.”

Rhaenyra placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Aemond, jealousy is a dangerous beast. Remember that Aerra’s light does not diminish yours. You are both unique, with strengths that complement each other. While she shines in the spotlight, your strength is the shield that protects our family.”

Aemond’s gaze softened, and he nodded in acknowledgment. “You’re right, Rhaenyra. I should be happy for her. It’s just that… I’ve always felt the weight of our family’s expectations.”

Rhaenyra smiled warmly. “We all do, dear brother. But together, as Targaryens, we are stronger. Our bond is unbreakable, and we support each other through every challenge.”

As they returned to the feast, Aemond’s jealousy gave way to a newfound appreciation for his sister’s charisma and an understanding that their unity was their greatest strength. The celebration continued with renewed joy and harmony, showcasing the resilience and power of House Targaryen within the hallowed halls of the Red Keep.

The Red Keep’s Great Hall buzzed with merriment as Aerra danced with several lords who had come to celebrate her engagement. Her laughter rang out like music, drawing the attention of everyone present. She moved gracefully from one partner to another, her vibrant presence captivating them all.

Aemond, watching from a distance, couldn’t shake the growing unease that gnawed at him. As he saw lords vying for Aerra’s attention on the dance floor, jealousy flared within him. He had always been fiercely protective of his twin sister, and the thought of sharing her with others grated on him.

Unable to contain his emotions any longer, Aemond left his spot and approached the dance floor. His commanding presence was undeniable, and the lords who had been dancing with Aerra took a step back, yielding the floor to him.

Without a word, Aemond extended his hand to Aerra, his violet eyes locked onto hers. “May I have this dance, sister?”

Aerra’s sapphire eyes widened in surprise, but she accepted his hand with a smile. They moved onto the dance floor, and as the music swayed around them, their movements became a silent conversation of emotions.

As Aemond and Aerra danced together, the tension between them crackled like wildfire. The music’s sultry rhythm seemed to mirror the heat that had built up between the twins. Their bodies moved in sync, but their words were laced with desire and jealousy.

“Aerra,” Aemond purred, his voice low and seductive, “you’re quite the enchantress tonight. You revel in the attention, don’t you?”

Aerra’s sapphire eyes darkened with a mix of emotions, her pulse quickening at her brother’s provocative tone. She leaned in closer, her voice a sensuous whisper, “Why, Aemond, jealous, are we? Perhaps you’re just not used to sharing.”

Aemond’s jealousy had given way to a more primal desire, and he pulled Aerra even closer, their bodies pressed together in an intimate embrace. “Sharing is not something I’m accustomed to, especially when it comes to you.”

Aerra’s laughter was a seductive melody in his ear. “Oh, Aemond, there’s no need to be possessive. I’m yours, always.”

Their dance became a provocative battle of wills, a dance of desire and longing. Aemond’s jealousy had transformed into a heated passion, and as the night wore on, they continued to dance, their movements filled with sensual tension and unspoken promises.

Their hearts racing with a mix of excitement and forbidden desire, managed to slip away from the raucous feast unnoticed. The castle’s winding corridors provided cover for their secret escape.

Aerra couldn’t contain her giggles, the thrill of their clandestine rendezvous making her feel like a teenager in love. She tugged at Aemond’s hand, urging him further into the shadows.

Aemond, usually so stern and composed, had a rare hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. The tension that had consumed him earlier had given way to the intoxicating anticipation of what was to come. He pushed Aerra gently against the wall, their bodies pressed close, and his lips descended to meet hers.

The kiss was tender yet filled with an intensity that had simmered beneath the surface all night. Aerra’s fingers tangled in Aemond’s platinum blonde locks as she deepened the kiss, their tongues dancing in a passionate, unspoken declaration of their desires.

Aemond’s hands explored her curves, their desire for each other burning brighter with each passing second. The abandoned hallway became their secret haven, a place where their love and longing could be expressed without restraint.

As the kiss deepened, Aerra pulled away slightly, her breath coming in heavy, ragged gasps. She looked into Aemond’s eyes, her voice barely above a whisper. “Aemond, I’ve always wanted you.”

Aemond’s response was a heated kiss, a promise that their secret rendezvous was only the beginning of a night filled with passion, desire, and the breaking of boundaries they had once thought were unbreakable.

Aemond’s kisses, like soft feathers, trailed down Aerra’s neck, igniting a passionate fire within her. Her body trembled with desire as his strong arms enveloped her waist, guiding her down the dimly lit corridor.

Lost in the intoxication of his touch, Aerra barely registered their surroundings. She allowed herself to be led by Aemond’s tender yet passionate ministrations, every kiss sending shivers down her spine.

As they reached a doorway, Aemond gently guided Aerra into the room. Her senses were overwhelmed by the pleasure of his kisses, and she remained blissfully unaware of their surroundings.

It was only when they were inside, and Aemond closed the door behind them with a soft click, that Aerra finally realized where they were. Her eyes widened in surprise, and she looked around to find herself standing in the small council meeting room of the Red Keep.

The room was dimly lit, with the long wooden table and high-backed chairs creating an unexpected backdrop for their passionate encounter. Aerra’s cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and desire as she met Aemond’s gaze.

Aemond, his own desire evident in his platinum blonde hair tousled from their passionate kisses, gave her a mischievous smile. “Well, it seems we’ve found an unexpected venue for our rendezvous.”

Aerra chuckled softly, her embarrassment giving way to a sense of adventure. “I suppose we have, dear brother. Let’s make the most of it.”

And with that, they allowed their passion to consume them once more, their kisses and desires filling the small council meeting room with a fervor that surpassed the boundaries of decorum.

Their lips met in a slow and passionate kiss, a sweet exchange of longing and devotion. The small council room, once a place of politics and strategy, was transformed into their private sanctuary, where their love and desires could flourish.

As their kiss deepened, they lost themselves in each other’s arms, their hearts entwined in a dance of love and romance. The room, with its grand table and high-backed chairs, bore witness to a different kind of council—one where the language spoken was that of love, trust, and unbreakable bonds.

Aemond eager to be close to his soon to be wife wasted no time to push her against the table, his lips attacking the sensitive skin under her jaw with bites and kisses to sooth the pain. Aerra's breathing was already laboured, her nibble fingers running through his hair that was in it's usual half up do, well not anymore.

"Aemond" She whispered, his name sounded like the sweetest tart rolling off her tongue. Aemond began pulling her dress up desperate to feel her skin. This was not the first they had been intimate and surely never will be the last.

"Daor" No. Aemond breathed in her ear. His fingers finally touching the skin of her thigh. He ran his thumb around the edge of her stocking before pushing it down fully. Aerra gasped as the cold air hit her legs causing goosebumbs.

"Kepa" Father/Daddy. The twins were twisted, that was no shock. The father they had was anything but a father, he was more of a stranger to them, they were shocked he even showed his face at the feast- most likely because Rhaenyra was there.

Aemond groped her thigh so tightly it will surely leave his fingerprints behind on it. He wrapped her exposed thigh around his waist before moving to the other one. His lips trailing up to her ear, biting and sucking the her earlobe. She whimpered shivering in his arms, she was desperate for his touch. Her second stocking and shoe followed the first on the floor, her legs now both wrapped around his waist he finally could touch more of her skin.

"My sweet girl, so desperate for attention" Aemond teased. he pulled back admiring her, her lips swollen and red from his attacks earlier. Her neck was already beginning to bruise from his bites. Her chest heaving as she sat on the table, her legs around his waist. His cock was throbbing in his trousers at the sight of her. Her hair was all over the place.

"Kepa, Kostilus" Please. Her begging was like the lemon cake to his ears. His fingers worked quickly undoing her bodice until her tits were spilling out.

"Shh, sweet whore" Aemond shushed her quickly. His hand grabbed at her breast, the perfect size in his hand, she was just perfect for him. Her entire being fit him so perfectly, her love handles and breasts were just the right size.

"Kepa, please it hurts" Aerra begged. Her cunt was crying in need of friction. She tried rubbing herself against him, gasping when she felt his hard on. Aemond smirked with delight at the sight of her wide eyes and dropped jaw. She knew just how to push his buttons even without trying.

"Shhh" Aemond gave a quick slap to her breast. He reached down to undo the ties of his trousers. Without her having to beg anymore or preparations he shoved his cock inside of her tight cunt.

"Such a perfect cunny" Aemond complimented. Aerra had to slap a hand over her mouth to stop a scream from slipping past her lips. He was just in so deep, he reached places she couldn't even imagine reaching herself.

Aemond stayed still not wanting to hurt her. He was amused with how wet she was and he didn't even need to touch her down there, he did not need to prepare her, she was always ready to take his cock. She was his perfect twin and no one can change that. No one can separate them, not even their disgusted mother.

"Move, Kepa" She whined, rolling her hips for some friction. Aemond lowered his head to take one of her tits into his mouth, suckling at it. She let out a loud moan without warning at the sensation, he always knew how to pleasure her. The pleasure went sparkling down to her lower region making her walls squeeze around Aemond's cock, making him crazy.

"Fuck" The curse came muffled from his lips. His hips began rocking back and forth, the way she sounded, the way she felt were just overwhelming.

"Aemy" Aerra cried throwing her head back. Aemond pulled away from her breast and placed a hand between her breasts, he applied just enough pressure to push her back to lay fully on the table. His eyes sparkled at the sight of her breasts bouncing with each thrust.

"That's not my name" Aemond's hand came down at her bouncing tits, giving each a quick slap. Aerra's back arched, legs beginning to tremble.

"Kepa" She moaned loudly, no longer caring who heard, they were betrothed and to marry soon, no one can separate them.

Aemond picked up the pace of his hips, his cock was just begging for more frictions. "Yes...fuck yes" Aerra was not one to curse, so now that she did Aemond knew he was doing it right.

"Do not cum" Aemond warned, his one eyes blazing with almost anger. She did not earn cumming yet.

"Please kepa" She begged. Her left hand reached down to touch herself but he slapped it away in a second. Aerra cried with frustration. Her eyes teary already from the pleasure began pouring with frustration.

"Kepa!" Aerra cried desperately. He picked up the speed of his thrusts, he was slamming into her at this point. He was going to teach her a lesson.

"Whores do not get to cum" Aemond growled. One of his hands reached up to grab her jaw. His hips not stopping for a second. Her eyes rolled back, back arched but he pulled at her jaw making her eyes snap back to normal and her back to lay still down again.

"Do you understand?" Aemond asked. His nails digging into her flesh.

"Yes kepa, please kepa, I am sorry" She cried. Her hand reached to grab his wrist. He pushed her hand away and moved to focus on the movement of his hips.

His hands grabbed at her hips moving her hips just the right way to match the rhythm of his own. Aerra's hands tried desperately to grab onto anything. Her right found comfort on her own breast, kneading the full flesh, twicking her nipple evoking herself to more pleasure. Aemond had ruined her forever, she was no longer the shy and innocent sister she used to be.

"Kepa, please please please" Aerra's pleas filled the otherwise empty room. She did not care if she was to be heard, it aroused her more actually, she wanted the lords she danced with and lusted over her to see her being absolutely being destroyed by her own brother.

"Fuck, cum" Aemond was not a vocal person in general let alone during intimacy. His voice was low and gruff, it turned Aerra on even more. She rolled her nipple begging every god for the release her brother was chasing for the both of them.

"Yes please" Aerra's breath got caught in her throat. It was like lightning struck her and moved through her entire body. Her legs shook so hard they went numb for a second. They unraveled from around Aemond's waist and shot up in the air shacking. Her body obeyed only his command. No one else's but his and it will forever.

Aemond grabbed her legs behind her knees and pulled them up to his shoulders and continued the assault on her cunt. This new position allowed him to reach deeper, he could feel her cervix if that was possible. He was very close, he was going to seed her. He was desperate to seed her. He wanted her to swell with a pure blooded Targaryen.

"Sweet twin" Aemond tried to comfort her as her eyes rolled back, her orgasm being prolonged with his movement. With a groan of pleasure Aemond came shooting his cum so deep inside of her it probably went straight into her womb.

"Gods" The word came out forced from her lips as she tried to pull her hips away from Aemond, too overstimulated. Aemond let her crawl back a little only enough for his cock to slip out of her. His singular eye watched as his spend ran out of her slit and down onto the table. Her legs fell limp like the rest of her body. He leaned down on top of her to place a kiss on her forehead.

"Mine" He whispered against her eye before placing a small kiss to her closed eyelid. Her chest heaving made her breasts brush against his, her sensitive nipples perked at the touch and made her groan a little.

"Kepa" She whined. Opening her eyes lazily, Aemond smiled at the sight, she just looked so sweet like a little girl, his little girl that he gets to fuck fro the rest of his life.

"I'm right here" Aemond helped her sit up again. Her arms wrapped around his waist and her head rested on his chest. Legs open again welcoming him inside, his cock sheathed inside like it was going home, to keep them both warm.

"Kepa's got you" Aemond whispered against her hair line, placing a small kiss there as well. Aerra hummed happily and nuzzled even more into his chest, her arms tightening around his waist. He was hers and She was his forever.

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loveburrowx · 3 months

Text

Portugal

Request - Joe goes to Portugal for a vacation and he meets Y/N.

Warnings - Smut (intercourse)

A/N - just wanted to make a fanfic with my country! Enjoy!

Joe, quarterback for the Bengals in the NFL, had been feeling the itch to get away from it all. The constant pressure of performing on the field, the endless stream of fans and media, the never-ending demands on his time. He needed a break, a chance to recharge his batteries and just be himself. So, he decided to do something drastic: he booked a one-way ticket to Portugal.

With his trusty travel guide in hand, Joe set off to explore the cobblestone streets of Lisbon, marveling at the city's stunning architecture and vibrant culture. One afternoon, while wandering aimlessly, he stumbled upon a soccer game being played at the Estádio José Alvalade. The game featured Sporting CP, one of the most successful teams in Portugal, and the energy in the air was palpable.

As he watched the players on the field, a familiar face caught his eye. There, leading the team as captain, was Y/N, a woman with long, flowing hair and legs that seemed to go on forever. The way she moved with grace and power, the way she shouted instructions to her teammates, it was clear that she was the heart and soul of the team. And to Joe, she was absolutely irresistible.

After the game, Joe mustered up the courage to approach Y/N as she was leaving the field. He introduced himself in his broken Portuguese, complimenting her on her skills and her leadership. To his surprise, she smiled warmly and seemed genuinely flattered. They exchanged numbers, and before he knew it, they were texting each other constantly, meeting up for dinner and attending local events together.

The more time they spent together, the more Joe became infatuated with her. Not just her beauty or her skill on the field, but also her charisma and her passion for life. He found himself unable to resist her sexy Portuguese accent when she would correct her teammates or shout encouragement to her friends. And when she gave him her jersey as a gift, he felt a thrill run through him that he hadn't experienced in years.

One evening, as they were enjoying dinner at his newly purchased home in Lisbon, Joe couldn't help but ask Y/N if she'd ever like to cook for him. She hesitated for a moment, but then smiled shyly and agreed. The next day, she arrived at his house carrying a basket of fresh ingredients and a mischievous glint in her eye. As she prepared a traditional Portuguese dish for him, Joe couldn't help but wonder what else she might have in store.

When she finally presented him with the meal, Y/N stepped back and revealed that she was wearing a stunning, all-white dress that showed off her perfect figure, including her toned legs and her perky breasts. The look in her eyes told him everything he needed to know. She wanted him. And tonight, she was going to make him feel wanted too.

As they sat down at the table, Joe couldn't help but wonder if this was all some kind of dream. Y/N was everything he had ever wanted in a woman, and the way she moved around the kitchen, serving him her delicious dinner, was enough to drive any man wild. They ate in silence at first, lost in their own thoughts, but eventually, they couldn't help but begin to talk. They talked about their lives, their families, their passions. And as they did, Joe felt a deep connection forming between them.

When dinner was finished, Y/N cleared the table and asked if he'd like some dessert. He nodded eagerly, his heart already racing with anticipation. She returned a moment later with a small platter bearing a decadent chocolate torte and two forks. As they sat down on the couch, she placed the platter between them and leaned in close, her breath tickling his ear. "This is my favorite dessert," she whispered. "I hope you like it."

Joe could feel the heat from her body as she sat so close to him, and the sweet aroma of the chocolate made his mouth water. He watched as she picked up her fork, the silverware clinking softly against each other, and took a small bite. Her lips curved into a satisfied smile as she chewed, and he found himself unable to look away.

When she finally offered him a bite, he took it greedily, their fingers brushing against each other as he brought the fork to his mouth. The chocolate melted on his tongue, releasing a rush of rich flavors that left him speechless. They ate in silence for a moment, savoring the sweetness and the intimacy of the moment.

"It's delicious," he finally managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper. "You really are an amazing cook." She smiled at him again, her eyes sparkling with happiness. "Thank you for enjoying it," she replied softly, her accent sending shivers down his spine.

The air between them felt charged with desire, and Joe knew that he couldn't resist her any longer. He reached out and took her hand in his, their fingers entwining as he leaned in to kiss her. She responded eagerly, her lips parting beneath his, and he felt the familiar heat of her breath as she moaned softly against his mouth. Their tongues danced together, a slow and sensual waltz that left him breathless.

As their kiss deepened, Y/N shifted in his lap, her body pressing against his. He could feel the softness of her breast against his chest, the warmth of her skin radiating through the thin fabric of her dress. His hands moved up to cup her face, his thumbs brushing across her cheekbones as he explored the contours of her jawline. She arched her back slightly, grinding her hips against him, and he knew that she wanted more.

He broke the kiss, needing air for a moment as he gazed into her eyes. They were bright with desire, and he could see the passion burning deep within her. "Tell me what you want," he whispered, his voice thick with lust. "Tell me what you need." She smiled at him, her lips curving into a wicked little smile. "I need you," she breathed, her fingers trailing down his chest, "to make love to me."

The words sent a shiver through him, and he leaned in to kiss her again, more roughly this time. His hands moved down her body, unbuttoning her dress and revealing her perfect skin beneath. She moaned as he explored her curves, and he felt her hands fumbling with his belt, unbuckling it and lowering his pants. He stood up, kicking off his shoes, and she climbed up onto her knees, straddling him.

The feel of her warm, wet folds against his erection sent a wave of desire coursing through him. He grasped her hips, pulling her down so that he could feel the full weight of her body on him. She arched her back, her breasts spilling free from her dress, and he reached up to cup one in his hand, rolling the hardened peak between his thumb and forefinger. She cried out, her head thrown back in ecstasy, and he could feel her body trembling beneath him.

He thrust upward, feeling the hot, tight grip of her body as she enveloped him, and the sensation was almost too much to bear. He could feel himself on the edge, ready to release, but he wanted this to last. He slowed his movements, taking his time, savoring the feel of her body moving against his. She looked down at him, her eyes half-closed, and smiled, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "Oh, Joe," she murmured, her voice barely audible over the sound of their passionate lovemaking. "You feel so good."

He smiled back at her, feeling a sense of connection that went beyond anything he'd ever experienced before. He wanted this night to last forever, but as the tension built within him, he knew that it was only a matter of time before he lost control. With one final thrust, he felt the release wash over him, his body tensing as he emptied himself into her. She cried out his name, her body tensing around him in a wave of ecstasy, and as they came together in their shared climax, he knew that he had found something truly special.

They lay there for a moment, their chests heaving as they caught their breath. She leaned forward, her head resting on his shoulder, and he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. He could feel the warmth of her skin, the softness of her hair, the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt this content, this at peace.

As their hearts slowed and their bodies cooled, they heard the faint sound of laughter from the living room. The party was still going strong, but for a moment, it seemed as if the world outside didn't exist. It was just the two of them, lost in each other's embrace. She turned her head to look up at him, her eyes filled with love and affection. "Thank you for the most wonderful evening," she whispered.

He smiled down at her, a lopsided grin that spoke of the happiness he felt. "You're welcome," he replied. "But really, I should be thanking you." She laughed softly, her breath tickling his skin. "Why is that?" she asked, her voice teasing. "Because you made me the happiest man alive tonight." His words were simple, but they carried the weight of truth. She leaned in, pressing her lips against his once more, a gentle kiss that sealed their connection for the night.

As the minutes ticked by, they lay there in silence, basking in the afterglow of their passion. Joe couldn't help but wonder where this night would lead them, but for now, he was content to enjoy the moment and the incredible woman who had shared it with him.

He rolled onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow to get a better look at her. Her skin glowed in the soft light from the fireplace, and her hair spilled across the pillow like a waterfall of black silk. He traced his fingers along the curve of her jaw, feeling the gentle stubble against his skin. "You're beautiful," he whispered, and she blushed, her cheeks flushing a deeper shade of red.

She reached up, entwining her fingers with his, giving his hand a squeeze. "Thank you," she said softly. "I've never felt this way about anyone before. It's... it's a little overwhelming." He smiled, feeling the warmth of her palm against his. "Don't worry," he reassured her. "I'm not going anywhere. I want to explore this with you, get to know you better."

Her eyes met his, and in them he saw a mix of hope and uncertainty. "You're serious?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "You don't just want this one night?" He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to her lips. "I've never been more serious about anything in my life," he whispered against her mouth. "I want to see where this goes. I want to see where you go."

She smiled, a genuine, heartfelt smile that lit up her entire face. "Then I think," she said, taking his hand and leading it lower, "we should go to bed." Together they climbed beneath the covers, their bodies tangled and entwined. As they lay there, she traced the lines of his face with her fingertips, as if committing every detail to memory. "I feel like I've known you for a lifetime," she murmured. "And yet, I also feel like there's so much more to learn."

He pulled her closer, burying his face in her neck. "I feel the same way," he confessed. "But I promise you, tonight was just the beginning. I'm not going anywhere." She sighed contentedly, her body relaxing against his. "Good," she said, her voice muffled by the pillow. "Because I have a feeling this is going to be one hell of a ride." And as they drifted off to sleep, he knew she was right. This was just the beginning, and he couldn't wait to see where the journey would take them.

#joe burrow #joe burrow fan fic #nfl #nfl football #nfl imagine #joe burrow x reader #explore #joe burrow x y/n #joe burrow smut #football #like #smut #foryou

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carlsdarling · 10 months

Text

Homewrecker

Y/N being jealous and stealing Carl away from Enid. Bit more of a plot, then sex. Everyone is 18 or over.

WARNINGS: smut, nsfw, oral, cheating

You've had a crush on Carl for a long time, almost six months to be exact, when Rick found you alone in a vacant building, took you to Alexandria and you met his son. You were immediately fascinated by Carl and felt attracted to him - by his beautiful blue eye, his swift movements, his badass attitude and the lovable character that stood in sharp contrast to it. Over and over you dreamed of seducing him, at night caressing and fingering yourself, moaning his name and burying your head in your pillow so Glenn and Maggie, who had taken you in, wouldn't notice.

You lost your virginity a while ago, and there really wouldn't have been anything wrong with just approaching Carl and checking out if he felt anything for you, too, but there was Enid. His girlfriend. You were so jealous of Enid that you could have screamed with rage whenever you saw the two of them together. When you caught them making out in the paddock, you wanted to snap Enid's neck.

At that moment, you decided that it was not possible to go on like this and that you would fight for what you so desperately wanted, Carl.

One night, when you knew Enid was on guard duty and Carl wasn't, you went to find him at his house. Rick opened the door. "Um, is Carl around?" you asked. In your hand you had a couple of comic books as an alibi.

"Yeah," Rick replied. "He's in his room."

You walked up the stairs and knocked until Carl called, "Come in." He was sitting on the bed, hastily adjusting his bandage when he caught sight of you. You didn't care about his scar, you thought he was gorgeous, sexy and charming even with it. Carl simply had a great charisma, and you were all the more envious of Enid. But now she wasn't here, and this was your chance. "Hi, Y/N," Carl greeted you in surprise.

"Hi," you said in a soft, seductive voice and approached him, letting one spaghetti strap of your white top slip off your shoulder as accidentally.

Carl blushed slightly. "What... what are you doing here?" he asked uncertainly as you sat down close to him so he could smell your perfume and feel your body heat.

"I was feeling lonely," you purred, making big bedroom eyes. "And I thought maybe you could help me." You licked your lips lasciviously.

"Help? With what?" Carl was obviously a bit dumbfounded in this regard, so you gently grasped his chin, turned his head toward you, and kissed him on the lips. They felt soft and a little rough at the same time.

Carl took a startled breath. "What are you going to do?" He seemed embarrassed, but at least he didn't push you away right now. That gave you encouragement.

"I like you, Carl," you confessed, "I like you a lot, actually, and I want to show you."

"But I'm with Enid," he protested demurely. His expression was difficult to interpret.

"And has Enid ever suck you off?"

He turned bright red and shook his head.

"There you go," you would breathe a series of kisses on his neck, making him groan softly. You'd show him you were better than Enid. "I want to do this for you. That and more. You'll like it, I promise. I want to feel you, Carl. I need you. I need you badly, every night I think about you." Again you kissed him, and this time he returned the kiss, slipping his tongue into your mouth before hesitantly pulling away from you again.

He obviously had qualms about cheating on Enid, but Carl also couldn't deny that he was already aroused; he was building a visible tent in his jeans, and his breathing was rapid and frantic as his cheeks reddened. He was so cute. "It... it has to stay between you and me, though," he murmured. "You must not tell Enid about this."

"You have my word of honor," you promised, and immediately you were starting to make out and caress each other, until finally your hands slid under Carl's shirt and you stroked his back demanding. He smelled nice, clean and a little bit of fresh sweat.

He slipped the shirt off and tossed it to the floor, and for the first time you saw his lean, lightly muscled torso, the fair skin, the small tufts of underarm hair, and the strip of soft dark hair that ran from his belly button down and disappeared into his boxers. The sight nearly drove you crazy; so you grabbed Carl by the shoulders and made him lie on his back, then undid his belt and also undid the buttons of his jeans to pull them down to his knees. Carl let it happen, his eyes half-closed, and there was a damp stain at his light grey boxers. His cock was at full erection and was clearly visible under the fabric.

You scattered wet kisses around his belly button until Carl began to moan softly, then you grabbed the edges of his boxers and pulled them down as well. His erection really sprang out, his tip glistened with moisture, and your eyes grew wide: Carl was definitely on the bigger side. His pubic hair was dark and slightly curly.

"Wait," he said hoarsely, sitting up and stripping off his jeans and boxers. Carl was now completely naked, whereas you were still clothed. "I want to see you naked too, Y/N," he sighed, fumbling with your top and bra. Without further ado, you took both off, exposing your breasts.

Carl looked at them ravishedly. "God, you're beautiful," he whispered and began to fondle them, making your nipples hard.

"Lick them, please, Carl," you begged, and he gently began to kiss your right nipple, encircling it with his tongue and sucking on it. You cried out in pleasure and were now finally ready for him, wet as sin, but wanted to give him head first.

Tenderly you kissed his length and then took his cock in your mouth. He didn't quite fit, but Carl moaned heavily and curled his fingers in the pillow, lifting his hips as you sucked gently, letting go of him briefly every now and then to kiss the insides of his thighs and his belly. "Please, keep on sucking," he murmured, stroking your head and supporting your movements with his hand until you suddenly let go of him. His cock was wet with your saliva, veins protruding.

Carl was already in a state of complete euphoria, writhing on the bed whimpering softly and begging you to continue. You took off your shorts and panties. "No, I want you to fuck me now, Carl," you whispered in his ear, leaning over him. He grinded his cock against your belly.

"I've never done this before," he confessed, embarrassed.

"Well, I have," you replied plainly. You were only a year older than him, but unlike him, you had already had some experience. "Do you have any condoms?" He nodded over to his nightstand, and you pulled an as-yet-unopened pack out of the drawer. Jealousy flashed through your mind, because surely Carl had made these preparations for his first time with Enid. Well, screw Enid, you thought. Carl took one of the condoms, tore open the wrapper, and placed it precariously on his cock. "Oh, let me do it," you said impatiently, pushing his hand away and putting the condom on him yourself.

He awkwardly tried to lie on top of you, but you beckoned him to stay on his back. "I want to ride you," you said breathless with desire before guiding his cock to your willing pussy. "Be careful at the beginning," you whispered into Carl's ear. "Very gently."

Inches by inches he penetrated you, his whole body tense with excitement. It was wonderful to finally feel him inside of you. Instinctively, he began to make soft thrusts, and you moved your hips synchronously with him. You immediately found a rhythm together, and both of your moans and sighs filled the room. "It's so good," Carl moaned. "You're so tight and hot." His thrusts were getting faster and faster, and he was going into ecstasy, forgetting everything around him. "Y/N, I'm... I'm cumming, I'm..."

"Me too," you said, leaning forward so he could pull you close as he now reared up and shot his load into the condom, moaning heavily. A loud scream escaped you as you also climaxed. You looked lovingly into each other's eyes and shared a long kiss before you dismounted from him.

Carl removed the condom, knotted it, and wrapped it in a Kleenex before dropping it beside the bed, then hugging you tightly. "That was wonderful," he murmured exhaustedly, pressing little kisses to your lips.

"Yes," you replied, "I have patrol in a minute. I have to go," you said regretfully a moment later.

"I don't want you to go," Carl pouted.

You gave him a kiss on the forehead and got ready to leave. "I have to though," you said, gathering up your clothes.

"Um, Y/N..." said Carl shyly. "Can we maybe do this again?"

You jammed your hands into your sides. "Depends," you informed him. "If you pick me and dump Enid, we can do it every day," you offered with a seductive glance in your siren eyes.

The next night, just as you were about to go to bed, Glenn called you to come downstairs. "You got a guest," he said, perplexed. "Carl's out on the veranda."

Carl looked toward you with a smile on his lips as you closed the door behind you. "I just broke up with Enid," he said, embracing you and immediately kissing you passionately. "I want to be with you."

You won.

#carl grimes smut #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes x y/n #carl x enid #twd #the walking dead #enid #carl grimes imagines #carl fanfiction

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xxsycamore · 5 months

Text

𝐎𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐀𝐥𝐥… 𝐋𝐞𝐰𝐝?!

╰┈➤ You help Rikai relieve sexual tension so he can function properly again. By giving him a handjob.

Kusanagi Rikai x Gender Neutral!Reader • rating: E (MDNI) • tags: Masturbation; Boners; Resolved Sexual Tension; Embarrassment; Rikai is dying of embarrassment; Blushing; Sexual Inexperience; Virginity; Voyeurism; Hand Jobs; Holding Hands; Secret Crush; Praise Kink; Multiple Orgasm • wordcount: 3,307 • masterlist

a/n: Happy birthday to my favorite person in the world who wants to do unspeakable things to Rikai (i understand.)

It's an early morning… a damn early morning, making you want to scream at Rikai if he must always start his day that early. Even the sun is nowhere to be seen yet, and you wonder if it simply hasn't received Rikai's orders yet to rise and shine…

But it's more than alright with you; the dark blue of the sky that gradually bleeds into lighter hues is somewhat exciting with what is to come, moreso when you finally find yourself knocking on Rikai's bedroom door.

"Coming."

His reply is fast and clear and you bite back a chuckle at the thought of it slipping mechanically, not even a pause to wonder what could this be about, at such an early hour. Though you suppose he must be used to all things bizarre and unexpected in a house like this.

…Is what you'd say if you didn't know him and his ability to stress over the same things again and again.

"Why are you up so early? What's the matter?"

There's a genuine surprise on his features as he opens the door to find you on the other side, albeit still quick to invite you inside. His bed is already made. His morning toilette taken care of, as he's not only dressed for the day but also already equipped with his favorite whistle hanging from his long and elegant turtle-neck-clad nape, probably on his way to wake up the rest of the residents.

Well now, this would have to wait…

"Rikai-kun. I wanted to talk to you about something. In private."

"Now is a good time. It's a nice, sunny morning. It's good to clear things up at the beginning of the day so it can start without any issues. I'm listening."

Despite the barely hidden difficulties he experiences every time he has to look you in the eye, the gesture of adjusting his glasses does the trick to make him look presentable. Besides, he's always ready to cooperate.

"You know I appreciate how you keep everything here in check… even if you can be overbearing at times…"

"I'm afraid that's necessary, and you're well aware."

"… I was thinking that someone has to take care of you, the way you always take care of others."

Rikai produces a sharp sound of confusion that is followed by a brief pause. "Elaborate."

"Based on my observations, Rikai-kun, you are experiencing a lot of pent-up sexual tension."

"Huh?"

"Yes."

. . .

"w-w-w-w-W-W-W-W-WHAT ARE YOU SAYING??? DO YOU EVEN HEAR YOURSELF?"

"Rikai-kun calm down, do YOU hear yourself?! At this rate you're going to end up waking everyone up and we won't be able to cure you of your sexual tension!"

"WHAT S-SEXUAL TENSION? WHAT S-S-SEXUAL TENSION? HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN AROUND AMAHIKO-SENSEI?"

"He has nothing to do with this! Although, I have to note, his profound insights did open my eyes to some of this… And you have to agree, as they say, that even a broken clock is right twice a day!"

He hates it, it's all in his twisted-in-panic expression. He hates that he finds truth in that phrase, the way you talk about this so nonchalantly like it's the most normal thing in the world, the way your frame blocks the door so he finds himself in a prison of his own making by having you where you are.

"Rikai-kun, your skin is all red… This too, is perhaps a sign that I'm right. I would appreciate it if you don’t make things worse by hiding your symptoms from me."

"STOP TALKING ABOUT THIS AS IF I'M GOING TO DIE! I'M PERFECTLY FINE, I DON'T FEEL ANY OF- WHAT YOU JUST-"

"Sexual tension."

"AAAAAAAAAAAAA"

"It's perfectly natural… but while it's natural, if you bottle it up… it indeed can be very bad for you. I do this out of genuine concern, you know! Dying is not off the table. At the very least, if you keep this up… you might explode."

Rikai's whole body shivers as if he just heard the blast in his head, and it makes him lose his balance. And ultimately, he falls down.

"R-Rikai-kun! Are you alright?!"

You immediately couch down to his level to check on him, and while it seems like his soul has already left his body, as soon as you put your hands on his shoulders to shake him back to consciousness, he tenses up and brings himself to a seating position on the ground.

A heavy sigh leaves your lips, part relief, part disappointment. "Seriously… I thought we could rely on you for keeping everything in order, but you can't even keep your body in order…"

"What are you talking about?"

"You're hard, Rikai-kun."

It takes exactly two and a half seconds, and him looking down in pure disbelief, for the hysterical, high-pitched scream to fill the room and bounce off the walls once again. You clamp a hand on his mouth to muffle his scream, and he seems to only panic further because of your touch, so you hurry to remove it.

The betrayal of his own body drives him to madness, and nothing that leaves his mouth makes sense anymore. If you've ever heard someone keysmash with their voice, that must be it.

You sit back on your haunches, hands on your knees, waiting for him to calm down so you can remind about the seriousness of the situation. Though, you don’t exactly mind waiting when he's making those cute expressions. You'd normally feel bad about him going overdrive like that, but the blush on his face makes you enjoy this, instead. You're not sorry at all.

"It's early in the morning, isn't that right? You've just woken up so, it's quite normal for a healthy male like you to have a…morning wood… at this time of the day. Calm down already!"

"UNSPEAKABLE! OBSCENE! OUTRAGEOUS! …LEWD!"

Lewd…with the way he's trashing about on the floor, trying to cross his legs, or to hide his crouch with his hands instead, you're growing afraid of him contemplating to chop off his own dick if it refuses to comply with his principles. But you know just the way to deal with him.

"Surely you know what to do in this situation, right?"

"Absolutely. I'll go take an ice-cold shower and kindly ask you to forget that this ever happened."

"NO-"

"Now then, isn't it a good morning? I already wrote my goals for the day in calligraphy. It's a New Year's tradition that I've implemented in my daily routine for the bountiful results it provides in motivation for goal-persuading, so I thought I might do the same with performing misogi and letting the cold water cleanse me so I could start the day without those dirty, atrocious, dirty things occurring to mar the day. A cleansing of the body and the mind! Isn't that a great start to the day? It's important to start the day with a clear mind so you can focus on your goals and take on them with vigor and diligence. I'd advise you to do the same!"

"Rikai-kun PLEASE LISTEN TO ME!"

He's too far gone, going through all the stages of madness in the spawn of mere seconds, to the point where he doesn't even register the way you shake his shoulders once again. Your body involuntarily presses against him, and the tent of his trousers grazes against your leg. You quickly sit back on your haunches. "I'm sorry."

PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP

You were wondering when this comes. Puffing up his cheeks like a hamster, Rikai blows the whistle, even though you have already withdrawn from him. He doesn't remove the whistle from his mouth even after he ceases to produce that innerving sound, and you attempt to pick up your thought again where you left it.

"I'm afraid cold water wouldn't be enough for you to get rid of this, not to mention it's not good for you to deny your body's needs. Haven't you ever… jerked off?"

PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP

Groaning, you tug on the whistle's string until it flies out of Rikai's parted lips, and you take hold of it. You come in closer again, close enough to catch it between your own lips, and you quickly blow it. PPPPPPPP

"There. You can do that again if you want to, but just so you know, that's going to be an indirect kiss."

Rikai is shocked, defeated, and disarmed. Additionally, he didn't faint at your question about pleasuring himself, surprisingly, thankfully, but it's only after a couple more seconds that he attempts to give you a reply, albeit a non-verbal one. It's negative.

Wow. How old is he again?

You sigh.

"I don’t wanna say this. But I have to say it. I'm disappointed in you, Rikai-kun. To think that someone like you would… drive your body to absolute disorder, refusing to acknowledge the most effective and rightful way to deal with one of its natural functions… it's not like you."

"I…I…I…I…I…"

"I'm not leaving until I make sure you've taken care of yourself, Rikai-oniisan!"

Crack.

You're not sure if you're imagining things or the last bits of Rikai's sanity just shattered to pieces. At first, you thought what you heard was his glasses cracking, perhaps the man in front of you reached the exact resonant frequency for them to shatter from his tormented wailings alone.

For a moment, the room is quiet. The approaching sunrise spilling through the windows begins to color every surface in a murky shade of florid violet. The blush on Rikai's face is more visible now, you can see how it spreads to his neck, to the tips of his ears. His lips twitch and he purses them as if fighting the words threatening to leave them. His eyes fall closed in inner conflict, and you indulge in the fleeting opportunity to admire his beautiful long lashes.

"I'm going to do this quickly."

You let out a small gasp, not believing your ears. You hurry to add, "And then we can go on with our beautiful new day!"

"…That's correct."

Rikai's chest visibly rises and falls, his body now almost frozen in comparison to its jerky movements just awhile ago. He lifts one hand and slowly crawls it across his stomach and down to his abdomen. A broken inhale falls from his mouth.

Your eyes are glued to his motions as he performs many false starts, backing down from coming into direct touch with his genitals. Even though he's still completely covered.

"It might be easier if you take it out, you know…"

"Nonsense. I can do it like this."

As if eager to prove his determination, Rikai's movements finally grow in braveness as the ball of his palm rolls down the prominent bulge in his white trousers. His slender, long legs part a little, making it evident that the tight clothing confides him in a rather uncomfortable manner, making a troubled sound rumble deep within his throat.

Your vision fills with lascivious, pink-tinted images of your sharehouse guardian of integrity cumming in his pants. A flame sparks to life inside you at the sheer thought of him becoming such a sorry sight, pathetic and helpless as he feeds his arousal mere crumbs of pleasure…and how they'd still be enough to get him off, because he never allowed himself that much. You want the sight of him in this very moment burned into your memory.

"Haah…"

It could be pure instinct now, the way he begins rubbing in earnest, motor activity that his brain simply cannot fight once it discovers the pleasure it brings. His beautiful, deft fingers squeeze and press into the hardness outlined by the thin fabric of his trousers, and you already imagine it stained, his cum soaking through.

You study Rikai's expression, and it's not a blissed-out one that will put you at ease that he's enjoying himself; you blame it on the massive embarrassment surging in him, but his furrowed brow and flaring nostrils tell you he's struggling.

"Is it… not enough, Rikai-kun?"

His eyes seem somehow unfocused as he snaps back to reality and looks at you; the rich blood-red color is now tainted with the shadow of lust, his common sense drowning somewhere inside them. Even in moments like those, he's able to recognize the rightfulness of things. The rightfulness of your guess.

"I s-suppose I can try to… inflict direct contact. I-If it will speed up the process."

You nod your head, urging him on. "I bet it will feel good."

"As long as it's enough for me to carry out the task."

Right, the task. With the same amount of diligence he puts into all his self-appointed duties, you watch Rikai put on a serious front as he begins to undo his belt. He does his best to remain as steady as possible, but the tremble of his hands is noticeable and it gets in the way. The strap comes off of the buckle and he lets it plop down, a second of indecisiveness before moving on to feel for his zipper.

"Close your eyes. Don't look. It's indecent."

Rikai gives you a command, or maybe a warning, you're not sure, but you already predicted this much.

"I think I'll live!"

"You're unbelievable! Don't blame me later if you find yourself haunted by the display."

Oh. Rikai has a very wrong idea about the source of your inability to get his cock out of your head. For his sake, you'll spare him the truth. Being this close to seeing him in his full stiff glory, you don't want to ruin the moment. You've actually wondered quite a few times before what he looks like down there.

The distinct noise of a zipper coming undone fills your ears, and you look down to see him put a hand into his pants, unmistakably grasping his firm erection and pulling it out of its confines. It puts your fantasies to shame, as your breath involuntarily hitches. His cock stands proudly with its significant length, rather on the slender side, with a vein running down the shaft. What grabs your attention though, is the bead of precum accumulated on the tip, and together with the flushed color of his complexion, it tells you volumes about how needy he is right now. He's practically aching for more, for a pleasing that counts.

"You have a beautiful cock, Rikai-kun…"

"DON'T SAY SUCH THINGS!"

"Alright, alright…! Aren't you barely holding off already? You look painfully hard…"

Rikai does all in his power to keep the groan from leaving his mouth, but it only proves your point. He knows he should move on and touch himself, laid bare for your eyes as he is. The conflict in his gaze is evident when he pulses with arousal without even feeling pleasure. You wonder if the scandalous deed excites him somewhere deep in his neurons, a feeling he'll never ever recognize much less confess about, but you're observant and that's already enough.

His bony yet skillful hand wraps itself around his hardness, a loose hold at first, a small twitching of his fingers indicating his newfound pleasure as he sucks on a breath. Even his fingernails are so Rikai-kun, neatly trimmed to a perfect oval shape…

Stroking his length slowly, it doesn't take long for Rikai to realize how much better it feels if he strengthens his grasp. The tightness of his fist feels good, and his mouth falls open.

"Ah…"

His movements are a little unprecise, and it's almost endearing to watch him struggle with doing something for a change. Biting on your bottom lip, you can't help it but extend another suggestion.

"Let me do it for you?"

"Nghh!" Rikai throws you a look of disbelief, but the neediness continues to lurk beneath it. He throws his head to the side, refusing to look straight at you anymore. His movements slow down and at last he unhands himself.

It's your cue. Crawling in closer between his legs, you find it a little hard to calm your racing heart. Clinging to the bits of confidence that drove you to where you are now, you concentrate on the need to do this for Rikai. To show him how to take care of himself.

His cock is warm and big in your hand when you wrap your fingers around it, and you realize how much it pulses with raw arousal. He must be begging for release now, even if he received so little attention… You begin to pump his cock with your hand, setting a somewhat slow but steady pace.

Rikai is… very vocal. He hides his mouth behind a hand, teeth sinking into the sleeve of his turtleneck, and yet his moans remain barely contained. He grunts and almost whimpers as you curl your hand around him while stroking for a better angle, eyes squeezed shut so he doesn't have to face the embarrassment of being serviced like this.

"T-This is- I'm gonna-"

It's no wonder he's fast to reach the point of no return, a slight panic in his tone at the lack of self-control. You stroke him faster now, assuring he'll reach an orgasm to remember for many nights to come.

You see his thighs slightly tremble and muscles tense up all over as he reaches the edge, and in the next second, he tips over it; the scene unfolding before you is absolutely sinful as you watch him come undone.

He's a mess; glasses askew on the bridge of his nose and moans escaping his glistening lips, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure; opening anew in the next second, pupils blown with lust as he barely registers the mess he's producing. His virile cum comes out thickly and plentifully, staining his clothes and your hand. You keep working him through his high with enthusiasm, catching yourself moan at the mere sight of him losing himself to the pleasure.

Giving his length one last stroke from bottom to top and squeezing the last drops of cum he has to offer, you rejoice in Rikai's heavy breathing. He's pressing his back fully against the wall now, and he's… beautiful like that; spent and lax, the crease of his eyebrows nowhere to be seen as he lacks the strength to maintain his frown, for once. Instead, bliss is written across his face.

Feeling giddy, your other hand makes its way to where his rests on the floor, and you intertwine your fingers with his.

"W-What are you…"

"Rikai-kun, don't tell me you're shy to hold hands with me… I just jerked you off!"

With a defeated and indeed flustered expression, Rikai furrows his brows once again, taking a deep, deep breath. He doesn't withdraw his hand, but his remains noticeably shaky.

You can't help but let out a small chuckle.

"That's it, you were so good… It wasn't so hard, see? I knew you could return order! You came so much… your body was so eager for release… but in the end, you did what was right. Of course you did. You're amazing, Rikai-oniisan!"

You make the mistake of keeping your hand where it remained during the round of praise, and to your horror… you feel Rikai hardening again in your grasp.

"R-R-Rikai-kun… likes praise…"

"W-W-W-WHAT, AGAIN?? WHAT'S WRONG WITH THIS BODY?"

Stunned for just a second, you quickly regain your composure and put on your serious tone once more.

"It appears that it wasn't enough, I'm afraid. We'll have to do it more!"

"MORE???? HOW MUCH MORE?"

"I don't know… until you're shooting blanks? And if the method becomes ineffective with time, we'll have to find other ways to get you off…"

"^%*&&G(##@$?@"

"Rikai-kun? RIKAI-KUN!!!! DON'T DIE ON ME NOW!! EVERYBODY WILL FIND YOUR BODY COVERED IN YOUR OWN CUM, THINK ABOUT IT PLEASE, RIKAI-KUN!"

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#charisma house #charisma house rikai #rikai kusanagi #kusanagi rikai #charisma house kusanagi rikai #charisma house fanfiction #charisma house fanfic #charisma house smut #crsm

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hugsandharrystyles · 9 months

Text

Are you wet right now?

Summary: You go on a vacation with your parents and their best friend's family. The only problem is their ridiculously hot son, Harry.

Word Count: 5,000+

Warnings: so much tension, teens being dumb, angst of course

Let me know if you want a part 2 with actual smut :))

You officially hate Harry Styles.

You hate his stupid hair, his stupid green eyes, his stupid hair, and especially his stupid abs.

You don't think from the minute your and his family stepped into the private resort you've seen him with a shirt on. And you get it, it's hot outside, and you're on vacation, but he doesn't even have the decency to put one on at dinner.

Honestly, the whole naked chest thing wouldn't bother you so much if he didn't get so much attention for it. The resort your and his family picked was private, but being a young, hot superstar makes you an easy target. It's almost as if this is the week all families with teenage girls decided to go on vacation.

It's the worst when you'll be goofing around with him like normal, and a group of girls in their bikinis crowd over him, not even sparing you a glance as they shove you out of the way. It's even worse that Harry does nothing about it.

You've known Harry since you were little. Your parents have always been friends, so it was kind of inevitable. You knew from a young age he was going to be something big- with his talent and charisma. You've watched from the sidelines how he's grown and came to stardom.

Though, you and Harry hadn't always been friends. When you were both thirteen, Harry had asked you to be his girlfriend. It was young and childish love, but it was sweet. You were his first girlfriend, and he was your first boyfriend. You even shared your first kisses together. You could never forget it. He was so nervous and shaky, and the kiss was inexperienced, but it was probably the best kiss of your life.

Until you were with Harry at a birthday party where everyone was playing spin the bottle, and Harry landed on Cheryl Taylor. He barely spared you a glance before leaning over and planting your his lips on her bubblegum-pink ones.

You ran out of the house and called your mom to come pick you up. Harry had tried to talk to you for a week, and you avoided him like the plague, which was hard since he was your neighbor. He ended up cornering you at school and apologizing profusely. He explained how he likes Cheryl now and that you were just his best friend. He was so young and so doe-eyed that you had no other option than to forgive him and go back to best friends. That was the start of Harry's everlasting feud with women. In no way was he a womanizer, but he loved sex and didn't have any want for a relationship.

"Y/N, sweetie, did you hear me?" Your mom snaps you out of your moment with her question. You're currently all (besides Harry, God knows where he is and who he's with) lounging at the pool, enjoying the summer breeze and warm sun.

"No, sorry," You answer and turn your head towards her.

"It's okay- said we'll need to head up to our rooms in about an hour to clean up and get ready for dinner. We have reservations at that fancy restaurant we saw when we were driving into town!" Your mom says excitedly, and you smile with her.

"Sounds good," You answer and turn your attention to the romance book in your hands, but before you could get very far, you hear your name being called.

"Y/N! Come in the water with me," You hear Harry's whiny voice call.

"'M good," You answer back, very obviously annoyed. You're still upset about the mob of girls who had literally pushed you to the ground earlier while trying to get closer to Harry. He hadn't even noticed.

"Oh, c'mon, babycakes. You still mad at me?" Harry asks, and you hear him splashing out of the pool. The sound of falling water droplets gets closer until you feel them start to drip onto your bare stomach.

"First, don't ever call me that again. Second, obviously I'm still upset you jerk," You scowl and almost punch him when he takes your book out of your hands, placing it on the table next to you.

"I said I was sorry!" He whines. You hear your mom and Anne laugh beside you.

"I got a bruise, Harry!" You whine back and pout at your forearm, showing him the bruise.

"Oh, shit, I didn't know it was that bad," Harry whispers, so your parents don't hear him curse.

"Yeah," You sigh. "Had to crawl my way out, and you didn't even care," You say dramatically.

"Stop it with that. You know I care about you the most," He assures, and before you can resist, he slots his wet body over yours, making you squeal.

"Ew! Get off me!" You scream, and hear your and his families' laughter.

"No," He whines and shakes his wet hair out. He lays his face in your neck. "I'm sorry, moppet. I wasn't thinking. Never would want you to get hurt."

"It's fine. I don't care. I was just messing with you."

"No, you weren't. Could tell you were upset, and I'm sorry I'm a dick," He says quietly and presses a soft kiss to your neck.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

"It's okay, seriously. Just- I don't know. It's fine, you goof." You wish to tell him how you really feel. How much you miss him when he's gone when you probably never cross his mind- the lack of texts proving to be true.

"Know I love you, right?" He asks as he perks his head up and grips your cheeks in his hands, smushing them together. You notice his eyes flicker to your lips but don't think too much about it.

"Yeah," You laugh nervously.

"What's with the hesitation?" He asks and releases his hold on your cheeks, instead cupping your neck, thumbs on your jaw, so he still has a bit of control over your face.

"Nothing- we just don't talk that much anymore. Haven't really since-"

"Harry, would you get off my daughter!" Your dad yells over, semi-joking. You laugh and push at Harry's shoulder. He gets up, but you can tell by his sorrowful facial expression that he's upset about something.

"Hey, what's-" Your cut off by a high pitched voice coming from the side of you.

"Oh my gosh. Are you Harry Styles?" The girl is probably about your age and very pretty. You can't help but sigh in defeat.

"That would be me. What's your name, pretty?" Harry's response feels like a knife to your heart, and you don't think twice before picking your book back up and tuning the conversation out. You do, however, peek your eyes over your book to see Harry walking away with the girl, arm around her shoulder- not even a glance back at you.

It's an hour later when you return to you and Harry's room. You hadn't seen Harry since he walked off with that girl, and you kind of hoped he wouldn't be back for dinner because you just didn't want to see him. Even after all this time, it's as if you can't completely squash your stupid crush on him.

You slide your keycard through the door and walk in, though, nothing could have prepared you for the sight in front of you.

Harry and the stranger-blonde are laying on his bed, practically grinding against each other in a heavy make out session. Your gasp is loud enough to break them out of their attraction, and you immediately hear them both curse.

"Shit!" Harry yells and pushes the girl off of him. She glares at the side of his face.

"You have a girlfriend?" She asks.

"No, no, she's just a friend."

Ouch.

"Um, I can just grab my things and go," You offer and make your way towards the bathroom to grab your makeup.

"No, Y/N-" Harry starts, but you cut him off.

"Seriously, it's fine. Um- I'll just find somewhere to get ready. You- uh- are obviously busy," You laugh embarrassingly. You quickly grab your things and your clothes and dart towards the door. You feel Harry grab your free wrist before you could make your great escape.

"Y/N, wait." His voice lowers so his guest couldn't hear. She was already mindlessly scrolling on her phone anyway, so it didn't even matter.

"What?" You ask.

"What's- why does this feel so... off?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. Obviously it's going to be a little awkward because-"

"No, I mean like- I feel guilty? Like I've just messed everything up," He whispers, defeated.

"I don't know what you mean. I mean it's not like we're... together or anything." The words hurt as they come out of your mouth. "We're- um- we're cool." You put the fakest smile you could muster before walking out of the room. You hear him call your name as you speed-walk down the hallway to your parents' room.

Once you're ready, you and your parents trail downstairs to the resort's foyer where you all patiently wait for Anne and her husband. You're shocked that after waiting for five minutes, you see Harry's parents and Harry stepping out of the elevator and walking towards you guys. You immediately dart your eyes elsewhere as to not catch Harry's gaze.

"Are we ready to go?" Anne asks, and you all agree.

The car ride is insanely awkward. Having not known about what had happened an hour prior, your parents had squished you and Harry in the back by yourselves, and no words have been spoken. It's even more awkward because he's chosen to sit in the middle, so there is no space between the two of you.

"Hey," You hear Harry whisper to you. You hum mindlessly in response, nose in your book. "Can we just- can we talk? Please." The desperation in his voice almost makes you feel bad. Almost.

"Really nothing to talk about," You say quietly, trying to just focus on the words on the page in front of you. "I just need to stop getting my hopes up," You mumble.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He asks.

"Nothing, Harry. Just forget about it. We're good," You assure him, but you know he doesn't believe you. Instead of leaving you alone like you've asked, he takes your book out of your hands (making sure to bookmark your page) before tossing it to the floor of the car. "Hey!" You complain and go to grab it, but he captures your wrists in his hand and holds them to his stomach.

"What are you guys fighting about back there?" Anne and your mother turn around, confusion on their faces.

"He's being a menace," You seethe through your teeth.

"Hey- am not!" He whines. "I'm just trying to talk to her, but she won't get her nose out of her book!"

"You are ridiculous. I mean- first, you-"

"Shush!" Your mother cuts you off. Harry, always playing the victim, pouts and leans his face into your shoulder. "Look at him, Y/N. He misses you. Hand me the book," She demands.

"What?! You can't seriously be taking his side. You don't even know what happened!" You complain, and you scoff as Harry wraps his arms around your waist, hugging you entirely to close to his warm body.

"I don't care! You're both nineteen- I shouldn't be breaking up fights," Your mom says, but you can tell she's trying her best to not laugh.

"Fine," You mumble and hand her the book. Harry's acting like a needy puppy as he basically whimpers in the crook of your neck, his arms still snug around your body. You rest your hands on his arms and dramatically lay your head against the headrest and pout in self pity. That is until you suddenly feel something wet against your neck. "Hey, what are you doing?" You ask and shove at Harry's head. He practically growls, and you can see that he has the strap of your sundress in his mouth, gnawing on it like a child. You're taken back to childhood memories of Harry doing this when he's feeling 'small' or a bit anxious. "Oh my goodness," You sigh and settle to rubbing your hand up and down his back.

"I have to get a picture of this," You hear Anne whisper, and in a second you hear her phone clicking for a photo. The great part of Harry being an international superstar is that you know that picture will never be posted on anyone's Facebook.

After what seems like an eternity if a car ride, you’re finally pulling up to the restaurant. You begrudgingly pull Harry off of you so you could all exit the car and have it taken away by the valet. Harry ducks his head down in an attempt to not be seen and laces his fingers through yours. He's funny if he thinks this sweet act is getting him any tonight.

Your parents inform the hostess of your reservation, and you notice the way her eyes never leave Harry as she walks you to your table. His fingers finally leave yours as he pulls your chair out for you, and you resist the confused look you want to give him and just take the kindness.

It's not even two minutes later when the (very cute) waiter is appearing at your table with a smile shining your way. He asks for your drinks and tells you he'll be back in a minute for your orders, but not before flashing you one more smile.

"Seems like Y/N has an admirer," Anne laughs, and you blush.

"Oh, stop it. He's just being sweet," You mutter.

"He's- He's not sweet. He just smiled," Harry butts in, and you glare at him.

"Yeah, cause no one would ever want to flirt with me," You say, just to him.

"What? No- I didn't mean it like-"

"Okay, here are your drinks." The waiter appears again and this time gets your orders. The way he flirts with you makes you feel seen and wanted. It helps that he's attractive too- of course, no one could be more beautiful than Harry, though.

The night drawls on, and Harry gets weirder and weirder. He's getting increasingly more affectionate and lovey-dovey, and it makes a part of your stomach churn.

It's when you're all about to ask for the bill when your waiter comes out with a small bowl of ice-cream and sets it in front of you.

"Oh, I didn't ask for-"

"It's on the house, lovely," He winks and walks off, leaving you with a prominent blush and whistles sounding from your table.

"My goodness, Y/N," Your mother giggles, and her and Anne turn to gossip about your love life. You smile bashfully and look at Harry, about to rub it in his face that you're the one getting hit on for once, but you can't when you see the pitiful look on his face as he stares down at your ice-cream.

"Oh, what's wrong, bug?" You ask him, pinching his cheek and calling him the childhood nickname that always got him to smile. He grins dopily and leans his forehead on your shoulder to hide his blush. "What? Did you want to share my ice-cream?"

Harry wants nothing more than to tell you that's not what he's upset about, but he's stopped when you push him off and scoop some ice-cream onto your spoon. You hold your hand under the spoon as you direct it towards Harry's mouth, feeding him. He doesn't think he could ever hide the grin of you doing something so domestic with him as if he was your husband.

Suck it, waiter-boy.

You and Harry have just finished your desert when you're getting up and excusing yourself to the washroom. Once you've finished, you exit the restroom and are about to walk back to your table when you feel a gentle hand on your wrist. Your waiter.

"Oh! Hello," You laugh.

"I'm so sorry to be so absurd, but I couldn't live with myself knowing I let you walk out of here without at least trying to take you out on a date," He says bluntly. "It's no secret that I think you're stunning, is it?" He laughs, and you laugh as well.

"Is that so? Don't think I noticed," You play it off with a giggle.

"Can I please give you my number?" He asks, flashing you his best puppy-dog eyes.

"Yes, but..."

"Oh no, not a but," He dramatically cries, and you laugh. He's funny and cute. Maybe he's just what you need to get over Harry. "C'mon, we don't have much longer. You're family's already paid, and I'm off the clock, sugar."

"I didn't bring my phone with me! And if I go out to my table to grab it, they'll make a huge scene!" You whine, and he gasps with fake shock.

"What will we ever do?" He jokes, acting as if he's faint.

"If you keep making fun of me, I am going to kick you where the sun doesn't shine," You attempt to threaten, but you can't hold back your laughter.

"Here," He says and grasps your arm in his hand. He reaches into his pocket for a pen and starts writing his number on your arm. "Don't have my phone on me either, so this will have to do. Don't you dare wash your arm on your way back to your table," He jokes, and you laugh.

"Wouldn't dream of it," You say sweetly. "Okay! I have to go. They're going to think I fell in the toilet or something," You say, getting the cute waiter to clutch his stomach in a heavy laugh. Once he gathers himself, you quickly kiss his cheek in goodbye and run off to your table, guarding your arm with your life.

Your family is hardly waiting for you when you return, and you plop yourself back into your seat and pretend to engage in the conversation.

"Hey, what's that on your arm?" You hear Anne's voice drag you out of your thoughts.

"Oh, um- the waiter found me and gave me his number," You mumble bashfully and fail to hide the blush on your cheeks.

"You're blushing!" Your dad has to embarrass you. You're about to reply when a splash of cold liquid makes your sentence get caught in your throat. It's all over your lap and arms, and you try not to cause a scene.

"Whoops!" You hear from beside you, and you see Harry grab a napkin and start to wipe you off. Before you can stop him, he rubs at your arm, smearing the phone number so it's unreadable.

"Harry!" You gasp. Your eyes meet his, and they tell you the truth. "You did that on purpose! What the hell is wrong with you?!" Your mother shushes you as people start to stare, but it goes right over your head.

"What, no- why would I-"

"You did! You've been acting weird the entire night! Do you just not want me to be happy?!" You ask, and when he can't answer, you huff and practically sprint to the doors of the restaurant. You don't make it very far away before there's a hand on your wrist and you're being pulled into a quiet alley- out of sight from people. "Let me go," You protest and try to shake Harry's hands off of you, but they're strong on your shoulders.

"Just listen to me, would'ya?!" He asks, obviously agitated with himself.

"No- Fuck you!" You retort and continue to struggle in his hold. Then, you feel his hands on your face, and ,suddenly, his face is extremely close to yours. He's going to kiss you. He's going to kiss you for the first time since you were both thirteen. It's all you've ever wanted, so why do you push him away? "No, no, no," You tut and push him off of you. "Are you crazy?" You shout.

"Hey! Are you two coming?" Your mom suddenly appears around the corner. You shrug yourself away from Harry and turn to your mom.

"Yeah, we're coming," You say and glare at Harry who is looking at you with puppy-dog eyes. You roll your eyes and trail off behind your mom. You all make it to the car, and there is obvious tension in the air with the scene you created, but you don't care and just plug in your earbuds, turning yourself away from everyone. You can feel Harry's longing stare from beside you, but you don't give him any attention. You almost jump when you feel your phone buzz in your lap- having being so zoned out.

Harry: Talk to me.

Sigh.

You roll your eyes and set your phone on the seat in between you and Harry. Several buzzes come through before you're opening your phone in annoyance.

Harry: I'm sorry.

Harry: Actually, I'm not.

Harry: Wait. I'm sorry about the water thing, but I am not sorry for trying to kiss you.

Harry: You're so cute when you're mad.

Harry: Actually you're cunt all the time.

Harry: Autocorrect. I meant cute.

You: Stop texting me... Cunt.

You see Harry laugh out of the corner of your eye.

Harry: Stop being irresistible, and I would.

You: Ew.

Harry: You love me.

Ouch.

You: That's the problem.

You send the message and then immediately drop your phone, face-down, into your lap and stare out the window next to you.

For the next half-hour, the car was relatively quiet. You were almost ecstatic when you see the familiar hotel come into view. You were the first one to jump out of the car and practically run into the building. You thought you would so lucky as to get a moment of peace by yourself, but that dream is quickly squashed when someone's hand sneaks in between the elevator doors last minute.

"Thanks for waiting up," Harry says sarcastically. You don't give him the satisfaction of a response. The air is stiff as the elevator starts to move. And then, suddenly, it comes to a halt. A very abrupt stop. "What the hell?" Harry says, and immediately after, all the lights, except for one emergency one, shuts off, leaving you two in a very dim light. It was just enough to see each other. It was enough for Harry to see the anxiety on your face.

"Knew I should've taken the stairs- Oh God." You can already feel your breathing becoming uneven.

"Hey, hey, it's okay- we'll be alright," He assures you and presses a kiss to the top of your head. He then presses the emergency call button and begins talking to the hotel staff for about five minutes. They explain that you two might be stuck up there for a few hours.

Great.

In the midst of the craziness, you had resorted to scrunching yourself into one of the corners of the elevator, trying to keep your mentality in check.

"Looks like we'll be in here for a while, moppet," Harry sighs and sits down against the wall opposite of you. You hum in agreement and keep your face pressed into your knees. "Might as well use this time to clear the air, huh?" He asks, and your breath hitches.

"Don't need to talk about anything," You answer simply.

"No?" He asks condescendingly.

"You're a jerk. That's about it," You say, raising your face to finally look at him.

"Oh, I am?"

"Are you just going to ask a question every time I say something, or are you actually going to talk?"

"Explain to me how I'm a jerk, please," He asks, genuinely wanting to know your side.

"I can't," You whisper, hiding your face again.

"Why not?"

Screw it.

"You know what? I'll talk," You decide. "You're not going to like it and will probably think I'm a freak, but I don't even care anymore." You take a deep breath and lift your head.

"Y/N, what are you talking about?" Harry asks, clearly confused.

"You remember when we were thirteen and we dated?" You ask bluntly. He's clearly taken aback.

"Um- well, yeah. We were each other's first kisses," He smiles as if remembering the memory.

"Yeah. And then at a party you went and kissed Cheryl Taylor and totally blew me off. You didn't even look back to see if I was okay! God, I get that we were thirteen, but Harry, I really liked you, and you didn't even care. We went back to best friends, and you acted like nothing happened, but I couldn't forget- I still can't. The way you blow me off when you even catch a glimpse of a girl- it makes me realize you haven't changed since we were thirteen, and I don't think you ever will. You don't text or call when you go on tour. I text, I try to call, so don't you dare ever try to put some weird manly claim on me just because you can. It's not fair that I love you in a way I'll never be able to shake when you can just toss me to the side when it's inconvenient for you."

The end of your speech had the air running cold. Harry was silent, stoic. His eyes were slightly wide and glassy- hands fidgeting as if they didn't belong in his own skin.

"I don't- um, I don't know what to say," Harry whispers after a few minutes of muteness.

"I know. You don't have to say anything. I get it."

"You don't- that's what I'm trying to figure out how to say-"

"Don't. Don't do that," You cut him off. "That's the worst thing you could do right now." Your voice shakes. "Don't you dare try to tell me you 'loved' me out of pity."

"But what if it's true?" He counters.

"Then you have a real strange way of showing it."

That shuts him up for a minute, enough time to let you collect yourself again.

"Look, I know it was a lot to spring on you, so it's probably making you think some things you don't actually feel-"

"Then why would I have gotten so mad at the restaurant? I had no idea about how you felt, so explain that," He counters. You're caught there for a moment.

"I don't know, but obviously your affections aren't very meaningful if you were sucking some other girl's face literally three hours ago."

"Fuck, I know how this looks, but it seriously didn't mean anything. I didn't even know how you felt about me! You can't blame this all on me when you never said anything!" He's starting to get riled up now. Harry's used to getting whatever he wants, whenever he wants, and you're not making this easy on him.

"You're such a brat. Stop whining and take responsibility."

"Oh, I'm the brat?! You've been fucking whining this whole trip, and it could've been you I was pounding into the mattress if-"

"I'm whining because I love you!" You yell.

"Well, so do fuckin' I!" He counters back, both of you staring at each other intensely and breathing like you've just run a marathon. Just as he's about to say something, a voice sounds through the elevator's speaker.

"It seems a though the fire department got here much quicker, so you two should be out within the next five minutes!" The awfully chipper lady informs you.

"This isn't fucking over," He practically growls at you as you start to hear the elevator being pried open.

"Oh, until you drop to your knees and beg for my forgiveness, we're not talking."

"Think it'll be the other way around, babe," He answers back slyly, and you know the games have just begun.

#harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harrystyles #one direction

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sunkendreams · 4 months

Text

twenty minutes.

➾ pairing ; mickey altieri x fem!reader.

in which mickey sneaks into your dorm room and things become more heated than usual.

format: drabble — not requested.

word count: 2.5K.

warnings: SMUT (mdni), risk of getting caught, slight corruption kink, fingering (f!receiving), making out, biting, dry humping, dirty talk, mild degradation (use of slut), choking, obsessive behavior from Mickey, begging, teasing, finger sucking, very slight edging, ambiguous ending

author’s note: I wrote this because I love Mickey and I want to write a part 2 with phone sex 💀 also, first time ever writing for him, so hopefully it’s good and people enjoy it! I am also working on requests, but I’m also on-call for work, so I get pretty busy. Hoping to have a lot of stuff finished & posted next week! thank you all for your love & support !!! :)

Mickey Altieri reminded you of a cat — elusive, cunning, and prone to climbing trees without much of a hindrance. The thick, sturdy oak that hovered by your window in the Delta Zeta House provided a place for your boyfriend to scuttle about, thumping a palm against the glass pane of your window.

He had a look in his eyes when you caught sight of him — devious and full of desire, glazed over with a sheen of mischief. It’s coupled with that pearlescent grin as you clamor toward your window, swiftly unlatching it as you glance over your shoulder. Your roommate is in the shower, a worthwhile time for him to come crawling in.

His timing is always impeccable.

This nightly ritual of him sneaking into your room is always accompanied with a giddiness and thrill. His dark tresses are disheveled, sporting a dark sweater that clings to his musculature. He climbs through with a silent grace, reaching for you before you can open your mouth.

“I’m doing all of the work here,” Mickey smirks, pressing a string of kisses along your jaw. “When are you going to climb through my window?” He questioned, tone playful as could be as his hands roughly pressed into your hips.

You and Mickey were still in this honeymoon stage of your relationship, where everything was glowing and bright, with sparks always flying in every direction. He oozes charm and charisma with every breath, and it never fails to pull you right in. He was becoming your addiction — your vice.

Sandalwood and bergamot cling to him as he sighs, hunching in over you as his mouth nips at your jugular. It elicits a low, simpering whine from you, serving as encouragement as Mickey turns that playful nip into a brief, rough bite. You taste saccharine underneath his tongue.

“I can’t climb a tree,” You protest, fingers curling into the front of his woolen sweater. “You have twenty minutes.” You huff, knowing that your roommate won’t be in the shower forever. It’s always the same heated routine — kissing until your lips are swollen, his hands grabbing your breasts, he leaves a hickey, and then he disappears.

Mickey groans into your sweet flesh, teeth idly grazing over your neck. “I want more than twenty minutes,” He uttered, peering down at your choice of wardrobe. It’s a ditzy nightgown that reminds him of summertime, speckled in hundreds of little flowers. He pinches the fabric between his fingers. “It’s not enough.”

“Kiss me, Mickey.” You mumble, a soft gasp tearing past your parted lips when he delivered a rather passionate kiss, open-mouthed with a desperate bout of tongue. He tugs at your nightgown, calloused fingertips tracing across the bare flesh of your thigh.

He was a dutiful boyfriend — eccentric and charming, a natural flirt with an obscene amount of wit. You adored that about him, but above all, you loved how much he spoke about you to other people. Mickey had this thing about staking his claim, and you weren’t about to tell him otherwise.

You can’t see it now, but there is a darkness festering inside of him. It’s always just at the forefront of his lascivious gaze, as if it might lash out and strike you. Mickey’s obsession with you transcended any normalcy, perceived as erratic and strange, but thankfully, you are none the wiser to his impulsive tendencies.

He loves your oblivious nature — it’s easier to control you that way.

Goosebumps form along the column of your spine, prickling along your body as his fingers slip underneath your nightgown, trailing along the waistband of your panties. He’s always teased you, but something feels different this time — it’s electrifying and exhilarating as he pets at your soft skin.

As your lips part, you stare at him incredulously, attempting to decipher his next move. “We can’t,” You protest, though it’s weak and lacking any sincerity. Your roommate, whilst prone to taking endless showers, won’t stay put forever. “Mickey.” You whisper.

“Why not?” He purred, teeth nicking your neck, which caused you to let out a soft gasp. Mickey’s lips soothed the bite with passionate kisses, tongue swirling over the newly-formed mark. “You going to stop me?” His lips curl into a faint smirk.

His laughter is delicious, alluring and full of a teasing mockery, one that causes goosebumps to coalesce along your spine. Mickey keeps it hushed, but you won’t be heard, not over the buzz of Duran Duran from your roommate’s radio.

His digits slip beneath the waistband of your panties as he hurriedly parts your legs, rucking your nightgown up towards your hips. “Maybe,” You squeak, voice barely above a hushed whisper. Mickey’s spindly digits playfully trace over your cunt, declining to touch your clit. “M—Mickey!”

You sputter, clinging to him like a drowning woman, grabbing fistfuls of his sweater as he swipes his fingers along your wet cunt. He’s devilishly enticing, and if you closed your eyes, you could envision his forked tail and silver tongue that continued to seduce you time and time again.

“This says otherwise,” Mickey’s tone has a playful edge of mockery to it as he kisses your jaw, unable to withhold the salacious expression that creeps onto his features. He revels in the way you whimper, hips jolting forward into his hand in an attempt to relieve even a lick of friction. “Want me to stop?”

He’s cruel.

Your pitiful, desperate expression screams for him to continue as you shake your head back and forth a hundred times over. “No, no!” You whisper, moaning when his thumb lightly traced over your clit. “Jesus, please don’t stop!” Your volume becomes heightened, and at that, Mickey decides to conceal it.

Mickey chuckles — it’s a dark and dangerous sound, but that’s why he has you so hooked to begin with. That aura of dominance emerges so quickly, and you’re enthralled, powerless to stop him. “You need to be quiet.” He cautioned, feeling you grab his wrist as you encourage him to keep going.

He does, much to your delight, fingers deftly tracing along your slit, drinking in the softness and wet warmth, thumb drawing circles around that sensitive clutch of nerves. Your cunt clenches pathetically around nothing at all, yearning for the sensation of his practiced digits.

A hapless whine leaves your lips when Mickey begins to test your limits, two fingers nudging at your entrance. It’s sluggish and teasing as he deliberates, gaze roving over your countenance. “You think about me when you touch yourself?” He questioned, mouth ghosting over yours as he pressed a string of kisses there, and then to your jaw.

Embarrassment rippled through you at the crass question, prompting your boyfriend to stop pleasuring you. Any sensations ceased, and made you moan in protest. “H—Hey,” You whimpered. “Mickey, baby, please don’t stop.” You groaned, feeling his hand lightly clasp around your throat.

“Answer me, and maybe I’ll keep going.” He chuckled, head cocked to one side. His muscled form loomed over you, casting a shadow across your body, moonlight swallowed whole. Mickey appeared predatorial and hungry in this light — ravenous for you.

“Y—Yes, I do, I — I think about you.” You mumbled, and to your relief, his thumb returned to your clit with a feather-light pressure. You rucked your hips forward with desperation, chasing after his hand. You were flustered to no end, burying your face into his chest, which he promptly stepped away from.

“Jesus,” Mickey sighed, drinking in your smitten expression. “You look so pretty like this.” At that, he sank forward, digits nudging their way inside of your cunt. Tightness followed, consumed by liquid heat as he began to piston his fingers in and out of your slit.

Another wave of goosebumps coalesced along your flesh, making you tense with excitement as Mickey gripped your throat with his other hand. Fingers squeezed underneath your jaw, applying pressure as he bit at your lip, surprisingly rough, hard enough to draw blood.

A startled gasp tore past your mouth, accompanied by a keening moan as Mickey found a rather vigorous rhythm. His practiced digits pumped in and out of your tight cunt, coated in your slick as this thumb brushed over your clit. Your body reacted in a violent fashion, desperately clamoring forward, friction electrifying.

The shower was still running, and you were awash with pleasure, cunt clenching around his fingers as he withdrew another moan from you. Mickey loved feeling your throat bob and tighten underneath his grasp, tracing the pad of his thumb above your pulse point. It was racing — beating at the speed of sound.

Molten heat pooled within the pit of your stomach as Mickey callously lapped at the blood coalescing along your lower lip, noticing the sheen of surprise within your eyes. “Doesn’t bother me,” He uttered, kissing you again with a force that made your head spin. “Tastes like you.”

Jesus — if it weren’t for your roommate, you would’ve been screaming. Your entire being ached for him in every way imaginable, hands grasping at his sweater. Mickey turned you around, pressing your knees into your mattress as he deftly felt his way around your body.

“Fuck, I wanna be inside of you.” Mickey snarled, brazenly biting at the dip between your neck and shoulder, having tugged your nightgown into all sorts of directions. His erection was prevalent, grinding against the curve of your ass as he pistoned his fingers in and out of you. “Would you let me?”

It all felt so quick, just heat and carnality, desire that had all rolled into an amalgamation of want. You hadn’t gone all the way yet — part of you wanted to save it for a time where your roommate wasn’t a few feet away.

“M—Mickey,” You whimpered, hips rolling and jolting into his hand, palms grasping at his bicep and forearm, something to steady you. “Please, please don’t stop!” Everything felt so feverish, as if you were trapped in some thick haze, unable to break free.

Mickey huffed, countenance etched with a playful disdain as he nibbled along the shell of your ear. “Would you let me fuck you right here?” He asked again, more pointed and aggressive this time, accompanied by a harsh flick against your clit.

Your head bobbed up and down over and over again in a series of indiscernible babbles and nods. “Yes! Y—Yes, Mickey,” You might’ve said it over and over again, back arching as he began to curl his digits into you, right into a spot that made your bones turn to dust. “M’close!” A desperate whine left you.

His cajoling laughter made the hairs along the back of your neck stand up, thighs rubbing together. “Course you would,” Mickey murmured, kissing at your neck, attempting to give you another hickey, something that he succeeded in. “You’re my little slut.” The sudden degradation made you bristle.

Admittedly, you shouldn’t have enjoyed it as much as you did, squirming and writhing against him as he toyed with your clit. You moaned, fingers clamping down into his arm so hard that you were afraid of leaving bruises. Mickey didn’t slow or stop, continuing that same, brutal pace as he brought you to your climax.

His hot, labored breathing fanned across your neck and shoulder, causing you to shiver as he grinded himself against you. The rough denim made contact with your haunch, content to rut against the curve of your ass. Mickey knew you were close, and with another steady barrage of digits, you shuddered.

You were drowning in a white-hot ecstasy, reduced to a sticky, whimpering mess at the hands of your boyfriend, whose grin was etched into the back of your neck like a brand. Mickey let you ride it out, spasming and mewling, hoping to let it simmer before your roommate finished her shower.

Mickey caressed circles into your clit, feeling your knees wobble, thighs quivering as you trembled like a leaf, rocking back against him. He was akin to the cat who’d caught the canary, pearlescent teeth glittering through the dim light as he slowly removed his fingers from your weeping cunt.

“Mickey,” You sighed, feeling him nudge you, coaxing you to turn around as he sat you down against your mattress. There was something vulnerable and exhilarating about it all as he loomed over you, head cocking to one side. “That was amazing.”

He smirked — a haughty, salacious smirk that made your insides turn to mush, heat pooling between your legs once more. “I’m not done just yet, sweetheart.” Mickey crooned, reaching forward to squeeze on either side or your jaw. “Open for me.”

An innocuous confusion fluttered across your features, and he drank it in — you were so innocent, so pious that Mickey fed from it. He watched in silent rapture as you opened your mouth, and again, his smarmy, playful grin was prevalent as he placed his digits upon the flat of your tongue.

A swarm of saliva began to pool within your mouth, a whimper erupting from the depths of your throat. You knew what Mickey wanted, and you elected to obey, able to taste the remnants of your orgasm.

Shyly, you began to suck on his fingers, watching the way his countenance blossomed to life with an insidious desire. “Good,” Mickey purred, placing his other hand against the back of your head, cradling your skull as he urged you closer. “Should’ve brought my camera.”

That comment alone forced you to press your thighs together, and your boyfriend, ever the watchful and observant creature, took notice. Through the dim light of your bedroom, he was as coy and cajoling as the Cheshire Cat, slipping his fingers down your tongue.

“Would you like that?” His voice contorted into something else — malefic and low. You barely noticed the lack of static noise as your roommate turned the shower off. “Should I film us together next time? Might make for an interesting movie.” Mickey uttered.

A familiar heat thrummed against your ribcage, slipping through the cracks as it rippled across your body. You suddenly realized that your roommate had finished her shower, and Mickey hadn’t moved a muscle — he knew. A whimper threatened to break free from your chest, hands tight and fisted within your lap.

When footsteps began to inch closer, Mickey took his fingers out of your mouth, replacing them with his lips as he kissed you. You exhaled, sharp and excitable, reaching for his chest again. It was hot and crackling with tension, even still. His erection pressed against your inner thigh.

“Next time, I’ll sneak over.” You murmured, feeling his lips curl into a grin as he pressed a string of kisses against your neck. As Mickey began to slink away, you grabbed his arm, staring at him with doe-like eyes. “We’ll have more than twenty minutes next time.”

Mickey smirked, beginning to climb out of your window and back onto the boughs of the oak. “I’m counting on it.” He chimed, and began to scale the tree back down and into the darkness. You watched him go, chest tight with the sensation of yearning.

Unbeknownst to you, Mickey intended on making a phone call tonight — and you were set to be the star.

#slasher x reader #slasher x you #slasher x y/n #mickey altieri x reader #mickey altieri x you #ghostface x reader #scream fanfiction #slasher fanfiction #slasher fanfic #slasher fandom #scream #scream 2 #mickey altieri #ghostface fanfic #ghostface

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xcherryerim · 1 month

Text

Forgotten Bond(age)

- Sub!ClaptonDavis x HardDomGn!Reader -

“Keep making you kneel, keep making you bet all of you. The more you fall, dangerous. You know it, but your eyes still reflects me. Good boy, just one word, you shout.” — Beg For Me by Red Velvet

word count: 3.7k

SMUT ONE SHOT | MDNI | 18+ ONLY

Summary: At a freshman college party, you spot Clapton, the individual whom you used to torment in high school, who promptly initiates a search for you despite your efforts to evade an encounter. However, instead of seeking answers or explanations, he seems to desire something else, as he appears to seek out a more intimate and provocative connection, aiming to submit to your dominance.

While college life was enjoyable, it was also challenging and burdensome, with you meeting new people but also finding yourself submerged in a plethora of extra responsibilities that you had not encountered.

You knew you deserved a break, so, fortunately, there was a freshman party scheduled on that night. Even though you weren’t too fond of attending gatherings such as this one, you tried to have fun.

As you walked into the party, the atmosphere was electrifying. The music was roaring, and everyone seemed to be having a great time. Nervously, you scanned the crowd, half hoping and half fearing that you wouldn't run into anyone you knew from high school. You breathed a sigh of relief when you saw unfamiliar faces, allowing yourself to relax a little more and join the lively group of strangers.

A few drinks later, you felt slightly braver, conversing with various students who shared similar interests. Just as you thought you might be able to forget about your stressful past, the unexpected happened - you spotted Clapton Davis.

Your heart raced, and your stomach twisted into knots. You were stunned that he had attained college admission, and second, your relationship with him was awkward and tense. Yes, you had acted like a bully towards him in the past for some inexplicable reason. Despite your past behavior, you couldn't deny the allure of his charm and charisma. He possessed an undeniable magnetism that drew you near, even as you tried to push away those feelings of attraction.

While you prayed he would not notice your presence in the room, an immense feeling of panic and dread emerged within you. However, your horror intensified when you realized he had indeed noticed you. You made your way to a separate area of the house, hoping that he would not recognize you.

Despite your attempt to enjoy the mixer, your mind was overwhelmed with memories and thoughts of Clapton, depriving you of the ability to enjoy the party. The loud music and the plethora of individuals you once enjoyed are making you anxious by the minute.

You ran upstairs and entered a quiet bedroom. As you tried to collect your thoughts, you heard the door creak. Someone else entered the room. The darkness made it impossible to recognize who it was, but the mere scent confirmed it was indeed him. In the dimly lit bedroom, your heart pounded in your chest as you struggled to come to terms with the fact that Clapton had followed you.

“Clapton!” You blurted out a mix of shock and apprehension as you encountered him again in this enclosed area.

“Shh!” he whispered in a rushed manner, placing his finger on your lips in an authoritative gesture. “Tell me, what’s your deal?”

This wasn't how you imagined your reunion with him would play out, but here you were, trapped in a small room with the very person you wanted to avoid.

"My deal?" you echoed, trying to regain your composure. "I don't know what you mean."

His finger on your lip sent an electric current through you, and you couldn't help but feel a strange mix of fear and desire. This was not how you expected this evening to go. Clapton's gaze bore into you, daring you to defy him, to speak your truth.

"You know exactly what I mean," he retorted, his voice low and forceful. "You spent our entire high school years bullying me, and now you try to avoid me like I'm some sort of ex to you?" He emphasized his point by pressing his body against yours, bringing his face closer to yours, eyes locking in a heated stare.

You let out a sarcastic laugh, attempting to mask your anxiety and uncertainty with a carefree facade. "Forgive, forget, Clapton?" You said to him, trying to gauge his reaction. He seemed taken aback by your response, and for a brief moment, his harsh exterior cracked, revealing a glimpse of vulnerability.

But it was short-lived. His eyes flashed dangerously, and he retorted, "I don't forgive or forget easily," his tone growing soft yet menacing. "Besides, aren't we supposed to start fresh here in college?" He stepped back, arms crossed over his chiseled chest, his toned torso visible beneath his shirt. Your eyes involuntarily trailed over his muscular frame, noting the hidden strength and masculinity that lay beneath his calm demeanor.

His posture was confident and authoritative, leaving no doubt about his intent. You found yourself suddenly hyper-aware of the heat emanating from his body, the faint scent of his cologne, and the electricity that seemed to crackle between you two.

"So, how's life treating you, huh?" He asked casually, tilting his head slightly to the side as if genuinely curious about your well-being. "Did you miss anyone specific during the summer?"

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to respond. "You're asking like you want me to say you're the one I missed," you responded, trying to keep the conversation light and playful.

A smirk graced his lips, revealing a hint of white teeth against the lightly tanned skin that he gained over the summer. "Well, I wouldn't expect anything less from you." He chuckled softly, moving closer to you. "But you know what they say: 'Absence makes the heart grow fonder.' Maybe I missed you too."

His tone was light, almost teasing, but there was an underlying current of genuine curiosity. It was clear that he wanted to know how you felt about him, even though the situation between you was far from amicable. And despite everything, you couldn't ignore the spark of attraction that flickered in his eyes, seeming to defy all logic and reason.

"You missed me?" You raised your eyebrow, feigning disbelief.

"Maybe a little bit," he admitted, his voice dropping to a seductive whisper. "Or perhaps it's just the thrill of the chase."

He continued, running a hand through his hair, ruffling it slightly. “What do you say we start fresh? No more games, no more hiding. Just us, getting to know each other again.”

He paused, studying your reaction carefully. There was a challenge in his eyes, daring you to accept or reject the proposition. And despite everything, you couldn’t help but feel drawn into his boldness.

“If I were crazy, I would think you’re asking for something else, Clapton.”

“Oh, I’m not asking for anything crazy,” he replied, his voice dropping to a sultry timbre. “I just want to know if you missed me as much as I missed you.”

He moved, closing the remaining distance between you two, and his warm breath grazed your ear as he spoke. You could feel his heart racing, matching yours. He was undeniably aroused by this confrontation, and so were you.

“Now, are you going to tell me that you didn’t think about me once or twice?” he asked, his fingers gently tracing the curve of your waist. “Or maybe more than that?” There was a playful challenge in his tone, a promise of something more beneath the surface. His fingers dipped lower, sending shivers down your spine, and he leaned in, brushing his lips against your neck.

“Are you implying that I am the only one missing our little... interactions?” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. His hand slid up again, caressing your jawline gently and turning your face towards him. “Or perhaps you’ve found someone new to degrade?” He smirked. “I would be jealous if you did.”

“Believe me when I say, Clapton,” you responded, trying to keep your voice steady. “No one compares to you.”

Your words hung in the air between you, heavy with implications. You couldn’t believe what you’d just said, but there it was—an admission of sorts—an acknowledgment of the intense chemistry that existed between you both.

“That’s more like it,” he murmured against your lips, his breath warm and inviting. “Maybe we can work out our differences, huh?” He trailed soft kisses along your jawline, his hands exploring your body with possessive intensity.

“But first,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear, causing goosebumps to erupt across your skin. “Give me what I’ve been craving since that goddamn prom night.” With that, he got on his knees, looking at you with eyes full of devotion.

At that moment, you knew things were about to change. The tension between you and Clapton wasn’t just about the past anymore; it was evolving into something new—something electric and passionate.

“Slap me.” He blurted it out; his request made you still. “Slap me,” he repeated, his voice laced with desperation.

You hesitated for a split second, unsure of what to make of his unusual demand. But then, you steeled yourself and raised your hand, slapping him hard across the face. The sound echoed loudly in the quiet room, and the sting of your palm against his cheek left both of you breathless for a moment.

Clapton's eyes widened at first but then closed for a moment before slowly opening back up. A look of relief washed over his face as he reached up, touching the red mark that now adorned his perfect features.

“That’s better,” he growled, a devilish smile on his lips. His eyes glinted with a mixture of pain and pleasure, clearly enjoying your dominance. “You seem to love seeing me humiliated, don’t you?”

“Oh, just look at that,” you taunted, leaning down to whisper into his ear while slapping him lightly across his cheek. “You were just made to kneel, weren’t you?”

"Only for you," he murmured, his voice barely audible.

The power dynamic between you two had shifted dramatically, and you couldn't deny the rush of thrill that came with it. You felt a sense of control over him once again but it was mixed with guilt and confusion over your past actions.

“Get up,” you commanded, your voice firm and commanding. “Show me how good you are at submitting.”

Clapton obeyed without question, rising slowly from the floor. His eyes locked on yours, full of longing and submission. His erection strained against his pants. Seeing him like this, needy, was both exhilarating and terrifying but you couldn’t deny the adrenaline rush it gave you.

“Take off your clothes,” you ordered, barely able to contain your excitement. “Then get back on your knees.”

Without hesitation, he complied. His muscular form was revealed as he stripped off his clothing, leaving nothing but his skin and desire between you. Once he was fully nude, he returned to his previous position, waiting for your next order.

“Spread your legs,” you instructed, watching as he complied. His erect cock pointed skyward, dripping come onto the cold floor.

“Look at you.” you sneered, a cruel grin spreading across your face. “Trembling. Panting. It’s ridiculous.”

“Is that so?” he replied, giving you a foolish smile. “It’s just the reaction I get when you’re mean to me. I can’t help but like it.”

“Okay then,” You said, sitting on the bed as you looked at him. “Touch yourself.”

Clapton’s surprised chuckle met your command. “I mean, I could use a hand,” he quipped, attempting humor amidst the situation.

“You want me to touch you?” you questioned, raising an eyebrow. “Well, you’ll have to earn it.”

Without another word, he launched himself onto the bed, pinning you beneath him. His frame flexed as he removed your clothes, revealing your naked body to his eager gaze.

Clapton’s fingers glided across your throbbing between your legs, drawing gasps from your lips. The contrast of his rough skin against your heated flesh sent waves of pleasure coursing through your veins. Each touch was deliberate and calculated, designed to push you closer to the edge.

His fingers continued their sensual exploration, the touches carefully thought out yet wildly erotic. You felt his heart beating against your chest, mirroring the rhythm of your own.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asked, his voice filled with expectation. “Am I being a good boy?” he murmured close to your lips.

His enthusiasm was infectious, spurring on his actions. The tempo between your legs increased, each touch more urgent than the last. “Please, can I taste you? Can I be allowed to be masturbated by you? Can I be inside you if I’m good?”

His words hung in the air, a plea for your approval. “If you promise to do as I say, then yes.”

He nodded, his eyes shining with anticipation. “Yes, I’m your puppy; I’m your fuck toy. I’ll become anything you want. Just please, keep using me.” His words rang true, echoing his willingness to fulfill all your desires.

“Then, I suppose you know what I want now.”

Clapton understood perfectly. He leaned down, trailing soft, sensual kisses across your stomach until he reached your inner thigh. His lips lingered there for a moment, a tender gesture that belied his usual bravado.

The anticipation was almost unbearable, and you couldn’t help but bite your lip to stifle the growing moan. His warm breath brushed against where your thighs meet, causing involuntary squirms under his careful attention.

Finally, Clapton’s skilled tongue made contact, tracing delicate patterns. A sharp intake of breath escaped you as pleasure surged through your entire being. Your back arched involuntarily, every nerve ending ablaze with sensation.

His expert mouth worked magic on you. He seemed determined to give you the best experience possible, pouring all his passion and skill into his task, and it was working. You felt yourself nearing your peak, each lick bringing you closer to ecstasy. Your fingers dug into the sheets, nails biting into your palm as you tried to prolong the agonizingly sweet buildup.

When it came, your climax was intense, sending shockwaves throughout your body. An animalistic cry escaped your lips as you bucked against him, losing yourself in the sensation. Once it subsided, you found yourself limp and breathless.

You glanced at him, noticing his disheveled state. “Who gave you permission to come?” you snapped, anger seething in your voice.

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Hey, I can’t help if you’re moaning my name,” he declared, his tone surprisingly calm.

“That doesn’t matter!” you retorted, slapping him lightly across the face. His resulting moan only served to infuriate you further. Turning away from him, you searched for something—anything—to regain control.

Your gaze landed on a nearby wardrobe, and you headed towards it, pulling out a leather belts. Returning to the bed, you straddled him, your weight causing him to groan in pleasure. Ignoring his reaction, you grabbed his wrists firmly, securing them with the belt to opposite corners of the bed. The restraints were tight, ensuring he wouldn’t escape without your permission.

“Bondage?” He asked with a grin.

Looking down at him, bound and vulnerable, you felt a rush of power. This was where you belonged—in absolute control. You leaned closer, whispering menacingly, “Next time, ask for permission.”

His eyes widened, reflecting both surprise and...was that excitement? He enjoyed your sudden turn of events. If he wanted more of this dominant side of you, however, he would need to provoke you further.

“And if I don’t?” he asked teasingly, challenging you.

“Then you won’t get what you want,” you warned him, your voice low and dangerous. “Remember who’s in charge here.”

His grin never faded, though. “Oh, I think I’ve already gotten what I wanted,” he countered, glancing down at your body. “Maybe it’s time for round two?”

A slow smile. spread across your face. He wasn’t afraid of you, not really. Instead, he thrived under your dominance. Perhaps, in this twisted way, he was enjoying himself.

“I don’t think you deserve another round, Clapton,” you stated, trying to maintain your authority.

His response caught you off-guard. “But isn’t it fun hearing me moan for you, Master?” he purred, a sly grin spreading across his face.

Hearing him call you ‘Master’ sent a thrill down your spine—an unexpected pleasure. Was it worth risking your control again just for that sound?

“Fine. I’ll play your game under my rules,” you stated, quelling the wave of pleasure that surged through you at his words.

Following suit, you spit into his cock, generously spreading your saliva on his hardening lenght. Each stroke of your hand caused him to cry out in mixed pain and pleasure, his hips buckling against yours in response.

“Slo—slow down!” he begged, his leg movements becoming increasingly frantic.

“I’m touching you; isn’t this what you wanted?” You asked coolly, maintaining eye contact.

He groaned, unable to deny the truth in your question. “Yes,” he managed to choke out between ragged breaths.

“Good boy,” you praised, continuing your work. Your hand moved faster, stroking him in sync with your heartbeat. The sensation was almost too much for you to handle, but you pushed through it, focusing solely on driving Clapton to the edge of sanity.

“And you better come when I tell you to,” you stated decisively, increasing the speed of your strokes. Tears of both pain and pleasure trailed down his face, evidence of his mounting arousal.

Clapton’s breathing hitched, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Every movement he made was dictated by the pleasure you provided, and every gasp was directed toward you. It was heady, intoxicating power, and you reveled in it.

“Please, please let me come!” Clapton cried out, his eyes filled with pleading. His body writhed under your skilled touch, in direct contrast to his words.

Instead of yielding to his request, you increased and lowered the pressure simultaneously, driving him to new levels of ecstasy and desperation. His cries grew louder, and his face flushed with exertion and frustration.

“Fuck you!” he screamed, losing his patience. His hands trying to pull away the belts that were stopping his hands from any movements. It was then that you slapped him again, a sharp sting against his cheek.

“Fuck, I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it!” He stammered, clearly caught off guard by his reaction.

You raised an eyebrow, smirking coldly. “You’re ‘sorry’? If you weren’t so useless, you’d spend less time begging for forgiveness.”

It was meant to hurt, but there was also a hint of amusement behind your words. You found enjoyment in pushing him and watching him struggle to find a balance between submission and defiance.

His face flushed deeper, but he stayed silent, accepting your judgment.

“I’m your useless fuck toy, aren’t I?” He asked, his voice tinged with light amusement. Despite his words, there was an undeniable resignation in his tone.

You considered his statement, finding it oddly pleasing. He recognized your power over him, yet he still engaged willingly. With a small smile, you replied, “Yes, you are.” There was affection in your words, hidden beneath the veneer of dominance.

He returned the smile, tilting his head playfully. “Your only fuck toy?” he questioned.

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. Was this what you wanted? To be the only person he submitted to? Or was this just another game, another illusion of control?

“For now,” you hedged, unsure of your feelings.

He sat up, gazing at you thoughtfully. “For now, huh?” He grinned, leaning in to steal a quick kiss. “Interesting.”

You chuckled, returning to a perfect rhythm. Unlike before, it was neither too slow nor too hard, which earned you grateful looks from Clapton. His body began to relax, riding the waves of pleasure you created. His breaths synchronized with your movements, creating a hypnotic pattern.

As you continue, you couldn’t help but wonder where this was leading. There seemed to be genuine emotion behind his words, a vulnerability you hadn’t expected. Perhaps there was more to this relationship than control and submission.

Suddenly, he stiffened beneath your hand, signaling his impending release. You slowed down, waiting for the right moment. “Come now, Clapton,” you whispered, your voice velvety soft.

An exhilarating burst echoed through the room as he did exactly as you commanded. His muscles tensed, his eyes rolling back in pure bliss. As he lay there, catching his breath, you felt a rare sense of satisfaction wash over you.

Clapton abruptly kissed you, his lips pressing against yours hungrily. You returned the kiss, savoring the taste of him. In that brief moment, everything seemed possible. Could this become more than a game? Could you both find a real connection beneath your kinks and desires?

As you broke the kiss, your hearts raced in sync. Your faces were flushed, sweaty, and breathless. Clearing your throat, you untied him from the bed, and then you stepped back, trying to regain some semblance of composure. “Get dressed,” you managed to croak out.

He nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. “Sure thing, Master.” He replied playfully.

Both of you got dressed, and the air between you was thick with unspoken tension. Finally, you were both dressed and ready to leave. As you reached for the doorknob, he grabbed your wrist, stopping you mid-step.

“I was thinking maybe we could go to my dorm.” He stuttered, his face flushed with embarrassment. “I found this underrated band yesterday, and I wanted to listen to their discography. You could join me if you want to.”

Surprised but intrigued, you paused, considering his proposal. “Alright, lead the way,” you finally agreed, as he released your wrist. “But remember, this is purely platonic,” you added with a wink.

“Yeah?” he chuckled. “Platonic, huh? Yeah, because what we just did was purely platonic,” he retorted sarcastically.

You chuckled, acknowledging the truth in his words. “It was!” you teased back.

“Yeah, yeah, sure thing,” he muttered, stealing a quick kiss before ushering you out of the room.

Walking through the party crowd together, he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, pulling you close. His warmth enveloped you, and for a moment, everything else faded away. Whether this relationship would remain strictly physical or develop into something more, one thing was certain: you enjoyed each other's company.

Despite the chaos surrounding you, there was a serene calm within the two of you. His hand rested gently on your hip, grounding you in the moment as you navigated the sea of people. Every step you took, and every laugh you shared, brought you closer to each other, bridging the gap between your past and present.

Fin. Thank you so much for reading! Sorry if this is mid <\3 I have family over and school is stressing me out.

If you only want to see my smut writing consider following my side blog @xxxcherryerim where I reblog my work!

tag list: @lile6969 @sun-spider13 (i forgot who else asked like a week ago lmao)

#clapton davis x you #clapton davis x gn!reader #clapton davis x reader #clapton davis smut #clapton x reader #clapton davis #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x you #mike schimdt smut #derek danforth smut #josh futturman smut

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skzdarlings · 11 months

Text

part v: bodyguard!felix x reader

masterlist.

PART I ; PART II ; PART III ; PART IV ; PART V ; PART VI ; PART VII ; PART VIII ; PART IX ; FINAL PART.

( READ ON AO3. )

Your father hires an inconspicuous bodyguard to accompany you at school and supervise you at home. What seems like an innocuous change in routine eventually spirals into a forbidden romance that grows more passionate over the years.

pairing: lee felix/reader content info: smut. violence. parental abuse. situations of intense peril overall. forced proximity. enemies2lovers. angst with eventual happy ending. (chapter word count; 18k words)

warning for this chapter: the usual story dynamic plus explicit violence, threatening behaviour, mentions of homophobia, implied suicidal ideation, and explicit sexual content.

Jisung sighs with agonizing sorrow as he turns his baseball cap around. He tugs the brim low then steeples his hands on the desk.

“I see,” he says grimly. “I understand. You found paradise in Hyunjin. You had a good friendship, it made a good romance. So you didn’t need a friend like me. Now you come to me and say, ‘Han Jisung, come bowling with me and my evil boyfriend.’ But you don’t ask with respect. You come into my house on the day my daughter is to be married and you ask me to go bowling—”

“We’re in earth science right now,” Felix says, bemused.

“He’s quoting a movie,” you say.

“Ah.”

“And for the last time, Hyunjin is not my boyfriend,” you say. “We’re just… hanging out.”

Your second ‘date’ with Hyunjin was once more a family affair as your father invited him and his parents to the mansion for lunch. It was professionally catered because your father does nothing by halves, so at least the food was good. You and Hyunjin were mostly silent in the company of your parents, but you were allowed to walk around the yard by yourselves after.

He looked good because he always looks good, in a fuzzy purple sweater and name-brand jeans. His charisma was dwindled to nothing, though. He kept his fists curled up in the sleeves of his sweater and smiled a lot of forced smiles. His parents’ presence clearly does a number on his mentality. He did unwind somewhat when you were finally alone, but it was hard to shake the feeling of observation, their eyes stalking your every step like animals in a zoo.

“Maybe we should just have sex on the ground here,” you said dryly. “See if that satisfies them.”

He burst out laughing at that, an endearingly wheezy sound that made you giggle too.

“Wow,” he said, shaking his head. “When you make jokes like that I remember you and Han Jisung really are best friends.”

“Guilty,” you said with a snort. “Stupid jokes is what is friendship is all about.”

He smiled at the subject of friendship. His expression was full of so much warmth, very contrary to his polite but cold countenance during lunch when he only flirted appropriately.

You like Hyunjin as a friend and you think he might feel the same way, hence the reservation on both your parts to truly commit to this farce of a relationship. It feels wrong to use him to keep your father happy.

You caught his eye this morning in the school corridor, sharing a smile as you crossed paths. Even though a true relationship has not been defined, you told him you wanted to tell Jisung before you started hanging out at school.

You made the mistake of saying this within earshot of Hyunjin’s parents. His father unfortunately overheard you, enquiring as to the identity of this Jisung.

“Just her little school friend,” your father said. “Nobody important.”

Jisung might be nobody important to your father but he is still your friend. And unlike your father, who merits the value of life on business calculations, the first question Jisung asks is, “Does he make you happy?”

Felix is scribbling in his notebook but lifts his head at that question. You cannot look at him directly because you know it will shatter your very careful mask.

“Hyunjin is actually really nice when you get to know him,” you say, because the best lie has a hint of truth in it. “And I really do like spending time with him. So… it would make me happy if you could be happy for me too.”

Jisung scrutinizes you, then glances at Felix who has gone back to scribbling in his notebook. Eventually Jisung smiles and spins his cap backwards.

“If you’re happy, I’m happy,” Jisung says. He turns very dark and serious when he says, “But that pretty rich boy is paying for my nachos.”

You catch up to Hyunjin in the hallway. He laughs when you tell him Jisung’s stipulation.

“I think I can afford it,” he jokes, then quirks an eyebrow. “Jisung… He doesn’t know about your dad, does he?”

“Only a bit,” you say, thinking back to the countless times you abstractly complained about your father to him. “I mean, he knows he’s strict but he doesn’t know why. I complain about some stuff but… I don’t really go into detail.” Truth be told, you like that your friendship with Jisung is so far removed from your home life. He has nothing to do with your father or your wealth or your abuse. He likes you for you and that has always been the case.

“What about Felix?” Hyunjin asks. He nods behind you because Felix is never too far away. He is blending in as inconspicuously as he can, pretending to read notices on a bulletin board.

“What about him?” you say, heat creeping up your neck. You hope you appear casual.

“How close are you?” Hyunjin asks, his casual tone coloured with a hint of suggestion, like he already knows the answer.

You suppose anyone might assume Felix has a crush on you seeing as he is never far from your side. There is little explanation that a civilian could glean other than Felix being clingy or lovesick. No one would guess it is his job to trail after you.

But the suggestion is difficult to rebuke because your true feelings get all twisted up inside you. You and Felix do like each other – too much for your own goods. Though there has not been a reprise of the other morning, in fact you have not mentioned it once, there is a new electricity in all of your touches. That exchange did not satisfy or quell any desires, in fact it seemed to accomplish the opposite. When you wake in the morning to him so close, your heart turns into a thunderstorm and it sends sparks flying through every inch of your body.

You want him more than ever. You also hope you never get him or you will never find the resolve to let go.

“He’s just my—” You cannot force the word friend. “He’s just Felix,” you say. “He drives me crazy, to be honest.” That much is true.

Hyunjin’s brow furrows. He looks at Felix then turns your body so he is blocking you from sight. He leans in close to speak.

“He isn’t bothering you, is he?” Hyunjin asks. “Because if he is—”

A sharp laugh jumps out of you. The offer of protection is unexpected and unintentionally amusing. You have seen Felix in the midst of his training, his body a well-honed instrument that he knows and controls with utmost precision. Hyunjin uses his body in a different way, playing to his strengths with his showmanship, but he would be no match in confrontation.

Not that he knows it. His offer is very sincere.

You gaze at him, studying his kind but determined face. You remember how Hyunjin was expelled from his old school for fighting with another boy, supposedly over a girl. You read the report yourself and you recall how the other boy was badly pulverized. It is hard to picture Hyunjin doing something like that, but you know how violence often lurks in unassuming places.

“Thank you,” you say. “But it’s fine. Really.”

You guide the conversation back to bowling and it distracts him well enough.

At least you were allowed to plan this date. Your father essentially ordered you to go on a solo date with Hyunjin, except you could not be truly alone because Felix had to be there. When you questioned the logistics of that, your father said to work it out, that he would heed Felix’s discretion on the matter.

Fortunately, even with things tense between you, Felix does take your opinion into consideration. He agreed when you suggested a casual venue where you could hang out with Hyunjin and better acquaint him with your friends.

You are still not sure how long this charade is meant to continue, but for now you try to enjoy having another friend. This turns into a daunting task. Your social skills are lacklustre to say the least and attempting to befriend Hyunjin’s huge circle of friends proves perilously overwhelming. Fortunately, Hyunjin doesn’t take offense when you bail early at lunch to sit with Jisung instead. Hyunjin has a lot of friends but none with whom he is especially close.

“Having a best friend isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” you joke, watching Jisung bowl by swinging the ball two-handedly between his legs. You slouch in your seat as if embarrassed by him, shaking your head while Hyunjin laughs.

“He’s funny,” Hyunjin says.

“Then why do you antagonize him?” you ask, lightly but curiously.

“Because it’s fun,” he says with a smirk, making you laugh and Felix chuckle. “And easy.”

The three of you watch Jisung wail as his ball predictably rolls into the gutter.

“Fair enough,” you say.

You can tell Hyunjin has his guard up. It does not make him unkind but he is less personable even while he is more charismatic. You know that persona is in place to protect him, that Hyunjin wears happiness and charm the way you wear ire. Although they are contrary dispositions, both keep people at bay.

Jisung, being Jisung, manages to slip through the cracks of that guarded wall, much like he did you. You got to know Jisung slowly then all at once, empty moments passing between you until one day you realized he had long passed the guarded gate.

You are mulling this over when you spot him. You are so surprised that you choke on your soda and sputter the liquid painfully out of your nose. Your spontaneous violent hacking startles the boys, all of them jumping then fussing over you.

You are still coughing when Lee Minho approaches.

Hyunjin and Jisung do not see him at first, too pre-occupied with wiping your shirt and asking if you are okay. It is Felix who spots Minho next, realization dawning on his face before his expression sours. You have been seeking that reaction, looking for the vaguest hint of jealousy or at least acknowledgement. Felix does not seem very intimidated by Hyunjin, even when he flirts with you or touches you. He can probably tell your feelings are only friendly. But you did like Lee Minho once and he knows that.

Your heart skips beats when you and Felix look at each other. He has not been holding your gaze lately, quick to look away when you catch him staring. It sounds strange to say that you miss him when he is sleeping in your bed every night, but you ache with the loss of intimacy. He is the first person you see in the morning and the last face you see at night, but he has never felt farther away. Even your very first night together involved more genuine interaction.

If he truly did not want you, it would be easier. But when you do catch him staring, his eyes are intense, his gaze forever thoughtful. When he is not minding his actions, he naturally leans towards you just as you do him, orbiting planets around the light of your stars.

Jisung likes you as a friend, Hyunjin likes you as an ally, but Felix knows every part of you, the good and the bad, the normal and the crazy. When he touches you, he touches all of you, and you feel like a whole person, full of more life and possibility than you ever thought you could be. You told yourself not to rely on his touches and maybe you should have listened, maybe this withdrawal would not ache so terribly now, but you cannot bring yourself to fully regret it.

What you want is to reach across this table and hold his face, to bring it close to yours. Even if you don’t kiss, it would be enough to have him close, his breath on your lips and his freckled cheeks warm under your palms.

You will take what you can get, basking in the devoted attention of his gaze as your former crush approaches the table.

Minho comes up behind Hyunjin and smacks a hand onto his shoulder, startling him.

“I could hear you from the parking lot, Hwang Hyunjin,” Minho teases. “How many degrees was it again?”

When the rival popular boys were both at school, their interactions were minimal despite their reputations. Their few encounters were only jokingly hostile, one running gag revolving around Minho cooking Hyunjin in an air-fryer.

“One-hundred-eighty degrees,” Hyunjin completes the joke. He laughs with everyone else but he is blushing scarlet from the tips of his ears all down his neck.

It is strange. Hyunjin is a physical person, at least when performing. This is the same guy who made out with his girlfriend in a classroom. The same guy who got detention on his first day for skipping class to fool around with some girl. And yet his shoulder dips as if Minho’s hand is too heavy to bear, as if he is overwhelmed by the touch.

Hyunjin once remarked on your powers of observation. It is especially easy to read someone when their behaviour is similar to your own. Once you see it, you can’t unsee it. The stilted proximity, the way they naturally lean towards each other, so heavily affected by the simplest touch on the shoulder.

How they absolutely cannot bring themselves to meet eyes.

Minho talks to your table, friendly enough, but it is obvious he has no idea who the rest of you are. He only knows Hyunjin, and he addresses Hyunjin directly, but he does not look at Hyunjin for more than a few seconds, and they do not look at each other at the same time.

Eventually, Minho squeezes the back of Hyunjin’s neck and Hyunjin curls up his fingers. Minho smiles and says his goodbyes, casual, friendly, sparing one final glance at Hyunjin that Hyunjin does not return. Hyunjin reaches for his glass and takes a drink while Minho leaves to join his own friends across the room.

You wonder if Felix registered any of it, but he is still frowning at Minho’s retreating back. You suppose he was watching you more than Hyunjin. Jisung is taking a picture of his abysmal bowling score.

You look at Hyunjin but he is smiling again. He offers to pay for dinner, swiftly diverting the conversation in that direction. Jisung goes with him to counter to order, leaving you and Felix alone.

Felix has gone back to feigned indifference, sipping from his soda as he stares at nothing particular.

“I need to be alone with Hyunjin for a bit,” you say. That quickly snaps his attention to you. “I just want to talk to him.”

“Talk,” Felix says, lifting an eyebrow. “Uhh, about what?”

“If it was your business, I wouldn’t need to be alone with him,” you say curtly. You are being intentionally antagonistic with that one, but you get a little thrill when it succeeds in piquing his interest. You suppose you have always resorted to bad behaviour for attention. Encouraged by the heat darkening his gaze, you flutter your eyelashes and drawl, “My daddy would get mad if you got in the way of us, you know.”

He laughs with disbelief. Stubborn as ever, he looks away, popping an elbow on the table and digging his fist into his temple.

“What?” you say with exaggerated innocence. “Wouldn’t he, Felix? Doesn’t he think I’m a bad girl who needs a good boy to fix her?”

He looks at you, just a sideways glance out of the corner of his eye, but it gets you so hot that you momentarily forget your whole endeavour.

He drops his arm with a thump, smiling at you with all that performative saccharine sweetness. It is the smile he projects when he is convincing the world he is just sweet, innocent Lee Felix. Beanie, flannel, ripped jeans, just another guy, cute and unassuming.

He stands and swiftly turns on the heel of his foot, slapping a hand down on the back of your seat so you instinctively lean back. He follows you down, in your face when he speaks in that low, honeyed voice, “Hyunjin doesn’t have what it takes for that, sweetheart.”

Then he is back in his seat, arms crossed and back to ignoring you.

“I hate you,” is what naturally falls from your lips, no other word sufficing to summarize the sheer inundation of feelings.

The corner of his lips quirk up in a little grin.

He is the present bane of your existence, but Felix does oblige your request. At the end of the evening, he purposefully leads Jisung away with some empty distraction, holding conversation while watching you over his shoulder. He does not go far, but far enough to be out of ear-shot.

Hyunjin is bent down, changing his shoes, and it takes you a minute to muster the nerve to speak.

“Hyunjin,” you finally say, your voice coming out weaker than you intended.

Your tone is usually sharp so the unexpected softness has him tensing before he even lifts his head. When he does, it is with a dimpled smile, handsome and so polite.

You scrub a hand over your face, shaking your head, trying to think of something to say. You do not want to put him in an awkward spot, but you definitely do not want him walking into a worse situation because of ignorance.

“You… you weren’t expelled for fighting… were you?” you finally ask. “And you and Minho weren’t enemies.”

His expression caves, a sharp breath parting his lips. He stares at you for a long moment, flickering between a fake laugh, anger, fear, and finally resignation.

“How did you…” he starts, then laughs without any humour, dry and airy as he pushes his hair back. “You really are good at seeing people, huh.”

“I stand by what I told you at that party,” you say. “That I’m sorry you feel like you have to hide the best parts of yourself. But as your friend, I need you to understand… my father is a very, very dangerous man. He uses people. All the things that make you who you are… he will just categorize them statistically and work out how to use those things against you to benefit him.”

He covers his mouth and stares at the ground, looking contemplative. After some time, he drops his hand, and speaks in an unsteady voice that makes him seem very young. “I can handle it,” he says. “My father…” Another dry laugh. “I had a… friend… at my whole school. My father found us together. He tried to get him leave me alone but… stupid kid… he didn’t listen. So my dad hired this thug, I mean, I didn’t even know you could do that… He shook him up and we paid off the family and then he moved me here and he said… he said…” His voice trails off and you don’t think he will find it again.

“Image,” you say. “Expectation. Whatever.”

He huffs a breath, rolls his eyes, laughs again.

“Yes,” he says. “I thought it would be easy. He wasn’t asking me to change, just pretend. I said… well, that’s not that bad, it could be worse. It’s worse for other people. I can pretend. But it’s not easy and…” He sucks in an unsteady breath, his face crinkling with emotion. His voice is strained when he continues, “I don’t like lying, and just because I don’t like girls it doesn’t mean I like using them. You were the final straw, I just…” He rubs his temples and shakes his head. “I just need to get through this year. I can move out after school but… my dad won’t give me access to my savings until the end of the year and only if I can show him I’m… ‘better’. So I… I need to get through this year.”

“Hyunjin, I want to help you,” you say, “but you need to know what you’re getting into with me. My father is more dangerous than just hiring a thug. He is the thug, his whole operation is thugs. He snaps his fingers and half the city is rearranging itself for him.”

“You talk back to him a lot,” Hyunjin argues, a fact you cannot refute. Though you are marginally better behaved in company, you are never truly docile.

“Yeah,” you say with a helpless laugh, “but trust me, I’m messed up.”

“So am I,” he says. “We can help each other. Keep our dads off our backs for now then figure it all out.”

Silence falls as you consider each other’s words. You feel like no matter what choice you make, it will be the wrong one.

“He works two jobs,” Hyunjin suddenly says, staring over your shoulder. You don’t have to turn to know it is Minho, on the other side of the room, laughing with his friends. “One is at a coffee shop. On the weekends he teaches dance classes to kids. His family isn’t well off but he is so casual about it that no one cares. Things everyone else gets ashamed or embarrassed about just doesn’t seem to bother him. I thought I hated him at first, because it all seemed so easy for him, and I was jealous because I thought I should be the lucky one. Then one morning after a party I was hungover and bitching at him, and he just said tsk…” Fondness creeps into his expression now, smoothing out the sadness that was there before. “Then he made me some coffee and kissed me when I wasn’t expecting it. I started working myself up about it and he called me idiot and did it again.” He looks at you. His voice is steady now. “My dad would never make coffee for someone. He doesn’t even know how. He pays someone to do all that meaningless stuff for him. Meaningless. That’s all his life is. He think it’s so important but it’s not. But I know better.”

He sits straighter and says with complete confidence, “My life will not be meaningless. I just need to get through this year.”

You know it is not so simple as that. You do not see a light at the end of the tunnel the way he seems to do. But he speaks with so much heartfelt conviction that you really do feel it for a moment.

In the end, it is impossible not to take his hand.

Felix is quiet on the car ride home. You know despite the pretence, he is curious about you and Hyunjin. His regard was a scrutinizing one, watching you hold hands until you said goodbye in the parking lot.

But Felix is acting his role, an indifferent and professional bodyguard. You take turns glancing at each other, occasionally catching eyes but looking away soon after.

The house will be empty for the next couple weeks as your father is on a business trip overseas. You strut confidently into the house with Felix on your heels. You busy yourself with scrolling on your phone, pretending you do not hear his agitated sighs. You plop yourself down on the couch and cross your legs.

Felix stands in front of you, arms crossed. You smile an excessively syrupy smile and bat your eyelashes.

“Yes?” you say. “Can I help you?”

“What are you doing with Hyunjin?” he asks.

“You know what I’m doing with Hyunjin,” you say dryly, looking at your phone again. “Just what my daddy said.”

“Okay but uhhh, you don’t like Hyunjin,” he says. “And you definitely don’t like obeying ‘daddy’.” He pitches up the word in a nasally whine to mock you, smiling when you glare.

“Maybe I changed my mind,” you say. Then you shrug like the whole thing is beneath you, like you could not care less about his reaction even while it is all you care about.

You stand and knock shoulders when you brush past. You make it a scarce foot before he grasps the back of your neck and guides you back to him, gentle and slow but ungiving in its demand. Even when he lets go, you feel tingles where his fingertips so lightly pressed.

You are standing close, almost cheek to cheek. You can count each familiar freckle.

“Are you free right now?” he asks, dropping his voice in such a suggestive way that you immediately feel flushed. You nod without thinking too hard. When you do, his face lights up with enthusiasm and he smiles, eyes oh-so adorably crinkled with mirth. “Great!” he says. “Put on exercise clothes and meet me in the gym for training.”

He leaves the room in a brisk jog, waving over his shoulder. You stand there for another moment, staring at the empty doorway and computing the whiplash of that whole ridiculous exchange.

Never have you come so close to actually hating that abominable nightmare boy.

You have clearly worked Felix into a mood, so you decide to be marginally complacent and do what he asks lest he hunt you down and force you to do push-ups in the bedroom. We can work-out in the bedroom all right, you imagine yourself saying with a wink, knowing very well there is not a chance you would ever actually be able to say that. Agitating him with a healthy dose of implication is different than outright stating it. Though the look on his face would be funny.

When you reach the gym, he is in sweatpants and a t-shirt just like you. He is stretching in front of the mirror wall. He smiles that sardonic smile through the reflection, beckoning you to join him. You make sure to stomp as petulantly as possible, crossing your arms like a stubborn child when you reach the mirror.

“You need to warm-up first,” he says. “Do you know how to stretch?”

“Yes, I know how to stretch,” you say venomously, a useless lie since he has witnessed your pitiful demonstrations of athleticism in gym class. He doesn’t comment, though, just lifts his eyebrows and says, “okaaaay,” before moving on.

You copy a few of his stretches, though he makes his movements look easier than they are. Then he makes you run a few laps around the room, simply smiling when you scowl at him. You are pretty sure that part was just a petty punishment.

Finally he sets up some mats and starts explaining basic tactical defense positions. He clearly knows what he is talking about and the familiarity of the subject seems to ground him in his body. It draws you into a similar state of relaxation and soon you find yourself actually listening to his instructions.

You mirror a few of his positions, focussing on holding yourself steady, on finding your centre of gravity.

“You won’t beat most people with brute strength,” Felix says. “I mean, uhhh, ha-ha, I’m not exactly the biggest guy in the world, myself, you know? It isn’t about that, though. Look, feel your core strength…”

You lose yourself in your concentration, watching your own motions in the mirror as he steps around you. Your attention only fractures when he lays a hand on your shoulder. He is just fixing your posture but your body does not seem to care that the action is casual. You curse your own sensitivity and tell yourself to get over it, especially when he starts demonstrating more bodily manoeuvres, requiring you to put your hands on his arms or hands or shoulders.

He acts unbothered the whole time, making you feel even more ridiculous. Then he explains something while wrapping an arm around your neck from behind. You step closer instinctively and your eyes widen when your backside collides with his front and you realize he is not as indifferent as he is acting. It is only the vaguest stirring of interest, but his sweatpants do little for modesty.

He nudges you away and clears his throat, continuing his lesson but with a little stutter. You feel flustered and embarrassed too, somehow simultaneously craving this sort of evidence and also balking at it. You actually masturbated in front of each other but for some reason it is more embarrassing when he catches you looking at the subtle imprint in his sweats. He clears his throat again but continues the lesson like nothing happened. When he steps up behind you again, you are both careful to keep your distance, his arm only hovering around you.

“So the best thing in a situation like this—” he starts.

“I know what to do,” you say, the tension so unbearable that if you do not shatter it, it will break you instead. You abruptly swing your arm back, elbowing him in the gut. You catch him by surprise and he stumbles back with an oof, holding his stomach and glaring with playful intensity.

“Very funny,” he says and steps closer again.

“This works too,” you say, giggling then stomping on his foot. It isn’t very hard but it is unexpected so he curses, taking a playful swipe at you when you skip away.

“Mature,” he says sarcastically, but with a genuine smile. You stick your tongue out at him and he reaches again, laughing when you dance out of arm’s reach.

He chases after you and you yelp when he catches up, his retaliation a truly heinous, punitive tickle attack. You squeal and laugh in his arms, squirming to get away and apologizing through your shrieks. He just laughs, continuing his evil barrage of tickles. You get tangled together in your flailing, stumbling around and eventually landing in a giggling heap in front of the mirror.

Finally he stops, just as winded from laughter. You are sitting between his legs, slouched against his chest, facing the mirror as you pant and wind down from your giggles.

You look at each other through the reflection, the longest you have held each other’s gaze in a while. It feels different, less direct, but also more complete. You see yourself as well as him, sitting in a fairly intimate position and looking for all the world like a normal young couple, glowing with carefree happiness.

You take a few steadying breaths. He does as well. The rush of your game settles. In the absence of laughter, the room is quiet. The whole house is quiet, a big empty space with the two of you alone in one small room, securely tucked away in your privacy, looking at each other through a mirror.

He swallows.

Your heart is racing and not from any playful exertion. He has a hand on your elbow and the other on your knee, but he is holding very still, as if a move in any direction will be catastrophic. He is probably right to think that.

You touch his hand anyway, holding his gaze in the mirror while you slide his hand from your knee to your thigh. His brow pinches, expression contorted as if in pain, though the hardening press of him against your backside tells you it is not pain.

He says your name. Then he sighs, closes his eyes, and rests his temple against your head.

“Sweetheart,” he says, drawing out all the softness of heart in his low drawl. You whimper, from that or his touch, his hand high on your thigh. Even through your clothes, his touch burns, waking nerves where it roams.

“Please,” you say, watching his face through his mirror. Finally he meets your gaze there, dark eyes on your face as he lets you guide his hand between your legs.

One deft stroke through your clothes has you making a sound like a sob. It pulls him over the brink of his hesitation, leaving it all behind as he cups you with a possessive sort of determination. His touch is clumsy and desperate but you don’t care, because it’s him.

It all seems to happen so fast and not fast enough, two pairs of nervous hands pushing and pulling. He tugs your knee over his, spreading your legs wide, and slides his hand into your sweats while you buck back against him. Your eagerness overwhelms you so he shushes gently in your ear, his free hand splayed across your collarbone. His forehead is pressed into the side of your head and he looks at you sideways through the mirror. You nod, holding his gaze as he touches you properly.

It is a fumbling, hungry touch, the hunger of someone who thinks he might never eat again after all this plenty. He might be right. He might be wrong. It doesn’t matter right now. You give yourselves over to the experience, as raw and inelegant as all that earnest passion is.

Your breathing is loud enough to fill the whole room, the whole house, broken sighs and guttural moans louder than the yelling that usually fills this place. His touch is only surface, not daring to go so far as putting his fingers inside you, even while rubbing his fingers through all that wet desire. Your knee is hooked over his, keeping you helplessly open under his touch when you come. He looks at you with an incredulous sort of amazement, then his eyes close and his low moan turns to a broken whimper as tumbles over the edge too.

You are both breathing hard in the aftermath, eyes closed, heads touching. You slowly bring your leg back and he slowly withdraws his hand. You look into the mirror when you take his hand, when you put it back between your legs over your clothes and hold it there. He says your name and curses.

It is the last thing he says for a while. You are both quiet. It is only later that night when the silence breaks, when he gets into bed after checking the security system. You look at each other across the space of that bed and mutely come to an accord, his arm outstretched in offering as you move into his embrace. He holds you against his chest, his heart beating under your ear.

“Do you hate me,” he asks, like he already knows the answer.

You sniffle. You nod.

“Okay,” he says, and strokes your back until you fall asleep.

Your final year of school passes in a blur of afternoons with Jisung, fake dates with Hyunjin, and long, unsatisfied nights where you and Felix hold each other with the knowledge of everything between you – and do nothing about it. He keeps his head down, trains, and dutifully reports to your father. At least your father is more agreeable these days because of your supposed relationship with Hyunjin. He thinks it is changing you for the better when really you are just being careful for Hyunjin’s sake.

The end of the year rolls around and soon you are down to the last few days of classes. You and Hyunjin are due for a conversation about what happens next. You whisper this to him in class, sitting close as you are sharing a lab desk for two. He is bent down scribbling in your yearbook, his pen scratching when he freezes. He looks up at you and nods.

“Yo, are you lovebirds done?” Jisung asks, spinning around from the desk he is sharing with Felix. He points a ruler at Hyunjin. “You better have left the last page blank like I said, man. I have things to say to my girl.”

“I did, I did,” Hyunjin says with playful exasperation, handing Jisung your yearbook so he can sign it too. Jisung takes it with a snap, clapping the ruler on the desk before turning back to his own seat to write his message. You and Hyunjin look at each other, helpless but to laugh at his shenanigans.

You catch Felix’s eye. He knows your relationship is fake, though he doesn’t know why. He probably figures you are just trying to keep your father off your case. Even if you trust Felix, it is not your place to tell Hyunjin’s story, guarding it so long as he asks.

It does mean Felix looks at you with the occasional battered-puppy eyes.

“Come on, Felix,” Hyunjin says with his big, dimpled smile, “let me write in yours too.”

The yearbooks were handed out this morning so everyone is running around getting their friends to sign farewell messages. You have already signed more yearbooks than you ever imagined you would, Hyunjin’s friends considering you an acquaintance if nothing else. Signing for them was easy at least, lots of have a great summer and good luck with your future.

It is much harder coming up with something for genuine friends. While Hyunjin writes in Felix’s yearbook, you stare down at Hyunjin’s, trying to think of what to say to your fake boyfriend and real friend.

I hope you get everything you want and more, you finally write. I’m glad I got to know you. LUV U BOYFRIEND!!!!

He laughs at the last part when you show him. “I wrote the same thing in yours, loving girlfriend,” he says.

You laugh too. You crumple up some paper to chuck at Jisung who is still scribbling in your yearbook.

“What, are you writing a novel?” you ask. “Hurry up!”

“Patience!” Jisung says. “You can’t rush a masterpiece!”

You, Hyunjin, and Felix all laugh. Once more, you and Felix look at each other a little longer. You did not bother to write in his yearbook as no words could suffice to summarize anything.

He jokingly wrote Have a Great Summer : ) in yours.

Jisung finally finishes his apparent epic, smacking your yearbook onto your desk. You reach for it but he holds it shut, giving you a very serious look.

“You can’t read my message now, okay?” he says. “Read it at home. Alone. With violins in the background.”

You snort and roll your eyes but smile fondly at him.

“Okay, Jisung,” you say, “I promise to cherish it and read your masterpiece properly.”

“That’s all I ask,” Jisung says with a salute.

After school, Felix waits while you and Hyunjin have a quick word.

“Can you come to my house?” Hyunjin asks. “I want to talk properly. Not here.”

You know your father will agree but you need his permission as you cannot visit without an escort. Hyunjin knows you always have a bodyguard not too far from sight; he just does not know that Felix is one of them. Your father sends his own men on your excursions together.

Felix is never too happy when separated. He is cordial enough with your father’s security team but it is obvious that Felix thinks he is more skilled than them, often commenting on their weaknesses or blunders. You do not see things with his professional precision but you take his word for it. It is easy to believe Felix is the best. After all, it takes a whole team of people to replace him.

As predicted, your father agrees to let you visit Hyunjin for the evening. The Hwang mansion is nowhere near as big an estate nor are their security measures even close to your impenetrable, bulletproof, gilded prison, but it is still a secure location where you can be supervised. You go with a few of your father’s men, sharing a dry look with Hyunjin when you arrive at his house. He just smiles, used to it.

You have dinner with his him and his parents, smiling all the while, playing the part you have played all year. Your father’s men surround the house and you pass them in the backyard, making your way to Hyunjin’s old tree-house for some privacy. It leaves you within sight of your father’s men but well out of ear-shot.

You plop down on the little wooden balcony, sighing as you stare into the distance. The sun is setting over the neighbourhood, an orange sky dappled with rosy pinks, sparkling as it catches glass panes and ostentatious embellishments. The creaky old tree-house has a cozier feel, a world separated from the nonsense below.

“Thank you,” Hyunjin says after a moment of shared silence, just watching the sunset. You look at each other and he smiles. “Having a real friend who knows me made a difference this year.”

The forthright sincerity is a bit much for you, seeing as you are not so good at communicating so plainly. You think you are improving, though. The old you would have drawn back, but you are able to smile at Hyunjin in return.

“I hope it helped,” you say.

“It did.” He moves a little closer just to be safe. “My father gave me control of my savings. My grandmother left me an inheritance and I needed the money.” His smile brightens his whole face in the rosy light. “I bought a house.”

“A house?” your voice breaks as you try contain your surprise in a whisper.

He laughs at your reaction, still smiling.

“Yes,” he says. “Well, it’s more like a cabin. It’s not much to look at. I needed it to be off the record, all in cash, and far away from here.”

You find the image of a small, homey cabin to be devastatingly beautiful. It could be the most dilapidated, ramshackle mess of a construction and you would still consider it perfect. You imagine sitting on a tiny porch with Felix, him smiling a big smile that crinkles his eyes and shows his teeth, his face sunny and golden and truly carefree, not just pretending.

You look at Hyunjin and see him staring into space with the same smile. You picture him with all the tension gone from his shoulders, laughing his wheezy laugh instead of forcing polite smiles. You swallow a lump in your throat.

“Oh, Hyunjin,” you say, holding his hand. “That’s really wonderful.”

It brings him back to you. Some of the dreaminess leaves his expression but he is definitely still happy. He squeezes your hand back.

“I can’t go yet,” he says. “My parents would just… They’d find me. I’m their only son. It would be an embarrassment to them if I just left. When I think about what my father did to my friend just to teach me a small lesson…” You squeeze his hand in sympathy. You both know his parents did not have that boy beaten to keep him away, but to teach Hyunjin a lesson.

Hyunjin takes a deep breath and says, “They won’t let me walk away easily. I have to do it right if I’m gonna be free.”

“How are you going to do that?” you ask, curious for his sake and even your own. The image of a far away cabin, untouched by trouble, is quickly nestling itself in some hidden cockle of your heart. You know that it will be difficult for him to leave but it would be next to impossible for you, so there is no sense in dreaming.

And yet… If Hyunjin can find a way, it makes you think that maybe certain dreams are not so impossible.

But he just sighs and looks away.

“I don’t know yet,” he says. “But I’m going to find a way.” He lets go of your hand to reach into his pocket, pulling out a small slip of paper. He passes it to you and you unfold it. You brow furrows as you read.

“Is this—”

“The city and address to the cabin,” he says.

“Why are you giving this to me?” you ask in a small voice. Not for the first time, you curse your inconstant feelings, the quick rise to emotional heights in the matter of seconds.

This is Hyunjin’s future written in a single line on a single piece of paper, such a seemingly simple thing and yet it has the power to completely destroy him. This is his means of his escape, his only avenue of liberty, and he is showing you despite your proximity to some truly wretched forces. He trusts you more than he fears them.

“It’s an easy address to remember,” he says. “I know things are hard for you. I don’t know what will happen to you. I don’t even know what will happen to me. But I know it’s harder when you’re alone. I know having people make a difference because they made a difference for me. If you ever get out, if you ever need somewhere to start…”

You cannot think of what to say. No words seem sufficient in reply. You can only nod and take a deep breath. You look up into the fading light and blink away your tears.

“Thank you,” you say. “I hope if we meet again, things will be different.”

The address has a sweet rhyming lilt to it, easy to remember like he said. You read it over a few times, commit it to memory, then tear up the slip of paper beyond any salvaging.

You sit in the tree-house until the sun fully sets. Little lanterns flicker to life one-by-one in the darkening yard below. When the sky is a blue wash and the path below is twinkling gold, you sigh.

“I don’t want to go back,” you say miserably. You don’t want to see your father or that house. Even Felix will stir nothing but anguish right now, as you think about how you are trapped and he is shackled to you. You also don’t really want to linger here. Your uncontrollable emotional pendulum has swung back from its precipice. A few minutes ago, you were close to crying, and now you feel so empty and resigned that you think you will never cry again. I’m so broken, you think helplessly. You want someone to tell you otherwise but you don’t know how to ask.

Hyunjin leans back, peering into the yard. Your father’s men are getting a little complacent in their boredom, one of them yawning where he is slouched in a deck chair. They are not really paying attention to you. They figure there is no where for you to go, the main steps from the tree-house leading right into their path.

Hyunjin puts a finger to his lips. You follow him quietly across the tree-house, obscured in enough darkness that none of the security team notices. He leads you to a dangling rope ladder, hidden on the opposite side of the tree. He points across the yard to a little garden around a koi pond.

“There’s a gate just past the pond,” he whispers. “There’s a path that leads through the neighbourhood. I’ll stay up here until they say something, then I’ll tell them you went home.” He smiles and puts a hand on your shoulder. “You probably should go home,” he says, “but at least this way you’ll have a bit of time alone first.”

You smile back at him, patting the hand on your shoulder.

“Thank you, Hyunjin,” you say.

“See you around,” he says, then pushes back his hair and smoulders at you. “And don’t take the break-up too hard. I know I’m handsome but there will be other men.”

You laugh and roll your eyes, pushing his shoulder.

“Oh, please, I broke up with you,” you say. “I couldn’t keep up with your vigorous beauty routine.”

“This face is natural,” he says, laughing too. Then he nudges you and looks more serious. “Go now. They’re not paying attention.”

You briefly weigh your odds. You have not snuck out in a very long time so the punishment might be proportionate to your otherwise good behaviour. Felix is not here so he will not be blamed for your escape. And you will not be avoiding a reprimand no matter what you do, because your father is going to be angry that you and Hyunjin broke-up – especially without consulting him first. If you are going to be punished anyway, you might as well take a walk and clear your head first.

You grab Hyunjin’s hand one last time, giving it a squeeze as you smile. Then you climb down the rope ladder and hurry across the garden. You are out the gate and on the path before you know it.

The wealthy neighbourhood is quiet and brightly lit, every yard illuminated despite the quietude of the street. They are all so pristinely manicured, different yet identical magazine-ready mansions. They look a bit eerie with the darkness around them, like some alien recreation of what a home should look like. It makes you dread the return to your own house. You wonder how much time you have to yourself, if the car is going to pull up alongside you any second now to drag you home.

It is then you remember you do have one more place you can go. Ridiculously, stupidly, your emotions come back in full swing and you feel like crying again. Maybe it is because you have not snuck out in so long, so it is reminding you of the very first time you ever did. You went to the very place you are going now: Jisung’s house.

You always met there before darting off to a party together. Those parties never amounted to much. You and Jisung always talked a big game then spent most of the time in a corner or on a roof, but it was the only time you were ever away from the prying eyes of your father’s overprotective security. You passed many nights that way, complaining to your best friend, talking about nothing, then rushing home before your absence was noticed.

You remember the route to his side of town, catching a bus and getting off at a familiar stop. This neighbourhood looks very different than Hyunjin’s, a range of houses both new and old, rundown and fixed-up. They don’t waste energy lighting their yards unless they have guests. All the light is from the streetlamps and the little yellow squares of homey light beaming through their windows.

You have never actually been inside Jisung’s house. You would usually just meet him in the yard before continuing on. This is the first time you walk up the porch steps and ring the doorbell.

You start to shiver. The adrenaline or your escape kept you warm but now you can feel the chill of the evening.

You are looking around the block and shivering when the door opens. You turn and see an older woman with a scowl on her face. Even if you did not know Jisung lived with his single mother, you would recognize her because of her round cheeks and big eyes, much like him. Except where his face is usually open and friendly, she looks at you like a bug she wants to squish.

“What?” she asks.

“Um, sorry to bother you,” you say, somehow more intimidated by her than your father’s burly security team. “I’m friends with Jisung. I was just wondering if he’s home…?”

She takes a step back and screams his name into the house. You stand awkwardly in the doorway, waiting while thumps and bangs come from the upper level, then Jisung is hurrying down the stairs and skittering into view. You so seldom see him without a hat that it is momentarily jarring, his flop of dark hair going everywhere as he comes to a wide-eyed stop.

He gets over his surprise and smiles wide, saying your name with an upward what-the-fuck inflection.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, stepping aside to let his mother pass. She says nothing more to you, disappearing into a side room.

“I, um, I don’t know,” you say, your emotions in turmoil again. You think about what Hyunjin said, about how having a friend made all the difference for him, and you suddenly realize how much you missed spending time with Jisung, how he was your first and only escape for so long. Tears are falling before you can stop them, a mess of everything with Hyunjin and Felix and your father, but you can only stammer a vague excuse, that you broke up with Hyunjin and wanted to talk to someone.

Jisung’s face is twisted up with surprise and sympathy. He says your name a few times and apologizes, guiding you into the house.

“Come on, let’s go upstairs,” he says, taking your hand and leading you up to his bedroom.

“Won’t your mom mind?” For some reason, despite the mania of emotion inside you, that is what you fixate on.

Jisung just laughs dryly, shaking his head as he closes the bedroom door behind you. “Trust me,” he says. “She won’t care. Sit down.”

Jisung’s bedroom is undeniably him, music posters overlapping on the wall, stacks of journals on his desk and bedside table. It is a sprawling canvas of music and writing, not to mention litters of clothes and baseball caps. He pushes a pile of clothes off his bed so you can both sit, shoulder-to-shoulder. His bed is against the wall, under the window, cool stars twinkling down at you while his bedside lamp fills the room with warmth.

Your sobbing has slowed to a heaving stutter. Jisung hands you some tissues to wipe your eyes.

“I’m gonna kill that evil pretty boy,” Jisung says.

You hiccup and shake your head. “It was me,” you say. “Hyunjin is my friend, he’s a good guy, I just—” You start crying all over again, tearing the soggy tissues to shreds. Jisung leans over to fetch some more, his face scrunched up with concern while he watches you dab your sore eyes. “I’m just so messed up, Jisung,” you say. “You have no idea how much. I don’t even think I could properly love someone if I tried. I just make a mess wherever I go.”

“What! Yo! No. Why are you saying these things?” He looks equal parts bewildered and horrified, quickly wrapping an arm around you. You let your head fall on his shoulder, still wiping your eyes while he rubs your arm. “You are not messed up. You’re my best friend and you’re awesome. How could you have a best friend if you can’t properly love someone, huh?”

“I’m a bad friend though,” you say. “I bail on you all the time and I’m crazy and emotional and—”

“And you have an evil dad who locks you in the house, remember?” Jisung says. “Look, I know it’s not my business, I’d never make you say it, but from what you’ve told me… Dude, that guy fucking sucks.”

You cannot help but laugh at that. Jisung smiles, tweaking your nose.

“I’ve never been mad about that stuff,” he says gently. “Not at you. At your dick dad, sure. But that has nothing to do with you.”

“I’m emotional like him,” you say, tears slowing to a lip wobble. “I fight him all the time but maybe that just proves it. All that anger inside me.”

“Anger isn’t bad,” Jisung says. “It’s a feeling just like anything else. Some people do bad shit while smiling the whole time. Remember that guy who bullied Felix that time at school, and how you hit him with that book? Or other times you just snapped back at some stupid dick? That wasn’t bad!”

You don’t have an argument in you. You just exhale, dabbing under your eyes with the crumpled tissue. Jisung continues to rub your arm.

Your eyes drift and land on one of his baseball caps. It is perched on a stack of schoolbooks. You think back through the years, all those school days, all those stolen parties and late nights. It was a slow beginning, then one day you realized he was your friend, your first ever friend, that he was making you laugh and you had inside jokes and you wanted to spend more time with him. You weren’t afraid to be around him and you knew he wouldn’t make fun of you or push you or judge you.

You feel his arm around your shoulder now and realize you are not afraid of it. You can no longer remember the first time you hugged Jisung, probably because it wasn’t a kiss or anything romantic and so you did not really register it. It was a moment that arrived silently, without any heart palpitations or fanfare, no sweaty palms or hot cheeks. He would have just put his arm around you like he is doing now, asking for nothing in return for it.

You realize he must have been the first person to hug you. Your mother passed away when you were in infancy and the only family you ever knew was your father and his now-late father. They did not hug each other and they did not hug you. The only kind of love you knew was a violent, controlling one, and it made you into a distrustful, feral little child in return.

You have reflected before how it took a long time to warm to Felix. Bit by bit. Touch by touch. It would have taken longer if you had never known Jisung. He drew you out of your shell before anyone else did. You were able to reach for Felix because Jisung reached for you. You were able to befriend Hyunjin because Jisung befriended you.

You find yourself choking back a different sob, one conjured by the realization of just how much Jisung has done by being there. You understand what Hyunjin meant, about a friend making all the difference.

Before you can say anything, Jisung gently asks, “It’s bad, isn’t it?”

You sit straight to look at him, brow furrowed.

“Your dad,” he says. “Things are… they’re bad, aren’t they? Worse than just not letting you hang out?”

Tears spill over again. You realize he is sniffling now too but holding back tears. He reaches across to wipe your face with his bare hands, swiping at your tears.

“I knew for a while,” Jisung says in a strained voice. “I could see the bruises. I didn’t know what to do. And I felt like I was letting you down because—”

He chokes on his breath. It gives you a moment to interject.

“You have nothing to feel bad about,” you say. You wipe his tears too, laughing at your equal dramatics. “Seriously, Jisungie.”

“No, you don’t understand,” he says, grabbing your hands and pulling them off his face. He shakes his head like he is trying to shake his tears out of him. It seems to work. After another breath, he manages to speak clearly. “Do you remember our first conversation? At school?”

“About the weather?” you say, thinking back to the first time Jisung started a conversation.

“No, before that,” he says. “We sat beside each other for months but we never spoke. Then I missed a week of school because I made myself sick, all my stupid anxiety and whatever. My mom, you know, she tries but she… It’s just easier for her to ignore me most of the time, I think. I know she didn’t want kids. So I was taking care of myself. And I missed school sometimes because of it, but no one ever noticed when I was gone. It’s like I was invisible everywhere I went. And I got so sick that week that I just wanted to die. But then I went back to school and I got my homework from the teachers and then you—” He slaps his hands in his lap and looks at you, smiling a teary-eyed smile. “You were the first person to ask where I was and if I was all right. And you made a face like you didn’t believe me when I said I was. Then I started talking about the weather.”

“Oh,” you say, shredding the tissue in your lap for something to look at, trying to keep your tears at bay. “I didn’t remember that part.”

“You’re really good at seeing people,” Jisung says. “Even when they’re trying to hide or pull away. I don’t know how you think you can’t love when you’re like that. You know how to do it better than the rest of us who forget to even look.” He takes your hand again, drawing your eyes up to his. “But I’m looking back now, okay? And I’m gonna save you.”

It is so frank and sincere that it makes you laugh.

“I am!” he says, laughing through his own watery voice. “Don’t laugh at me! You saved me and now I’m gonna save you too.”

“It’s not that easy, Jisung,” you say. “You have no idea how crazy everything in my life is—”

“It is that easy,” he says. “You’ll see. I promise. And a best friend promise is a forever promise, okay?”

You cannot bring yourself to argue. You just nod, your bottom lip wobbling again.

“Okay,” Jisung says. “Now come hug me so you can’t see me when I start crying like a baby.”

You laugh but fall into his arms nonetheless. You sit under that window for a long time. At least, it feels like a long time. You don’t look at the clock and you don’t count the minutes. It is not the kind of hug that is leading to anything because he doesn’t want to kiss you and he has no other motivation. He just hugs you until you are both calm, when your tears feel silly and dramatic and your eyes are sore but you feel strangely refreshed.

“I need to go,” you say, to which he whines in complaint. You laugh. “Saving me will have to wait for another day. For now, if I don’t get home…”

As if summoned by that very thought, your phone erupts with buzzes and rings. You sigh and fish it out of the pocket of your shorts, watching messages from your father, his security, and Felix come flooding in. The others are making commands and demanding your whereabouts. Felix asks, Are you okay? Then, I have to turn on your GPS. They’re gonna come get you wherever you are.

You answer Felix, telling him you’re fine, that you’re with Jisung. He sends an emoji that manages to look very unimpressed, then just says, that’s what the boss gets for sending amateurs.

Your father’s men are far from amateurs but it is still funny when Felix insults them.

You turn your phone to silent after that, not bothering to answer the others. They will find you in no time with Felix’s help.

“I better go,” you say. “My dad is sending someone to pick me up. I’ll be fine tonight, I promise. But I’m gonna start walking because I don’t want you mixed up in any of this when they get here.”

Jisung tries to argue but lets you go when he sees how serious you are. He insists you take a hoodie for warmth so you do. You give him one last wave before you begin the trek down the block, hoping to get far away before your father’s men find you.

You have made it two blocks over when a sleek black car approaches. You start to walk towards it because there is no other reason for a car that nice to be slowing down on a street like this. Only when it gets closer do you realize you the make and model of the car is not one that your father usually uses, and you do not recognize the driver.

Your heart kicks up with a startled, frantic flutter as the car comes to a slow stop not far from you. You swerve, crossing to the other side of the street to avoid it. You try to act nonchalant, reassuring yourself that it is coincidence, that your father’s insanity is seeping into your brain and making you paranoid.

By the time you realize your anxieties are not baseless, it is too late. Not that you stood much of a chance in the first place.

You try running but there are three of them overall, one driver and two armed muscle guys. They chase you down and cover your mouth before you can scream. You kick and jostle but all of Felix’s self-defence lessons fly out of your brain in your panic. Your tears are all used up so you don’t cry. Even terror passes, leaving only nausea in its wake.

It doesn’t feel real, being shoved into the back of a car by men in black suits. This is not something real that happens. This is something your father threatens, something inane and melodramatic, something out of a movie or a book, not real life. Not your life.

Yet here you are, flanked by two strange men while the driver peels across the tarmac. They do not cuff or gag you, simply buckle you into a seatbelt and point a gun at you. You are shaking too bad to do anything useful anyway, and your voice feels clogged in your suddenly dry throat.

They are talking to you but it takes you a minute to register any word, everything fuzzy and out of focus.

“—just be a good girl and co-operate and everything will be fine.”

That is all you hear.

That and the name Miroh.

You try to calm yourself. You think rationally. Miroh has no reason to kill you or even torture you, as far as you know. In all likelihood, he is using you as leverage to get something from your father. That is why your father is always worried about you being taken. He doesn’t talk about damage to you, just his business.

You manage to calm the worst of your shaking. Then the one with the gun yanks on your hair and you jerk away violently.

“She’s better behaved than Miroh said,” he says with a laugh. “Might not even have to take a finger.”

You clutch your hands tightly together, glaring at him, but it just garners more chuckles. The driver laughs too, peering at you through the rear-view mirror.

“Too well behaved,” he suddenly says, eyes narrowing. “You check her pockets?”

It is then you remember your phone. Felix turned on your GPS. They can track where you are going. Felix can track where you are going. If nothing else, you trust that Felix can do something. Felix, Felix, Felix. It is all you can think about. Felix will find you. You will be back with Felix tonight, safe in your shared bed. You are always safe with Felix. You want to be there right now. You can’t even remember how you got here. Your whole day is turning into one blacked out nothingness, a dreary bleak empty before you found yourself in this car hurtling to god-knows-what fate.

The man finds your phone. You try to reach for it but then you feel the gun at your temple and your whole body locks up. You have seen a gun before, many times, but you have never had one pointed at you. You always thought you would be brave, having been around them your whole life. Maybe that is why you are afraid. Your body is trying to protect you, freezing you like it always does.

The man rolls down the window and throws your phone into the wind.

You sit back and close your eyes, willing this nightmare to end. You try to convince yourself that this is your father’s doing, that he is just trying to teach you a lesson. You wouldn’t even be mad. You just want to go home.

But there is no sign of your father’s security team. You pass dozens then hundreds of cars as you leave the residential area and take the highway. None of your father’s vehicles are among them. And how could they be? They can track as far as your phone and then they have nothing. There is no way for them to know where Miroh’s men are taking you. You have no idea what they want. You can’t even cry or panic because your body is shutting itself down in its panic. The periphery of your gaze is obscured in shadow. Their voices fade in and out, rarely directed at you anyway. They seem to know you will not answer. They have experience with this sort of thing.

Of course they do. Miroh is your father’s only equal. Your father does nothing by halves. Miroh would only send the best.

You leave the highway and turn onto a country road out of the city. Wherever they are taking you, it is far and they are unhurried. You have a long time to stew in your anxiety.

You can only see directly in front of you, through the windshield and the rear-view mirror. You stare, willing one of your father’s black cars to appear in it even though you know that will not happen. The only cars are civilian cars and even those begin to disappear as they take side roads to their own destinations. Soon it is just one other car trailing you at a distance. It is a beat-up civilian truck, not very big, a splotchy, peeling burgundy. The rims are muddy from frequent use and little washing.

It is ugly but it could be the last thing you see for a while. It makes you stare more intensely.

You are focussing so hard on the tiny details that you do not even notice it is speeding up. It goes from a distant spot to filling the rear-view in moments.

The driver mumbles a curse to himself, shaking his head and frowning.

“What’s this idiot doing?” he grumbles. “As if we don’t have enough to deal with. Now we got some drunk on the road.”

The truck is swerving, back and forth, then it speeds up and whips past your car. It startles the driver, making him veer a hard right as the truck goes left around him. He shouts a curse even though the other driver can’t hear, the truck already speeding away into the darkness. There are no street lamps on the country road so it completely vanishes, disappearing when it leaves the glow of your headlights.

There is a moment of quiet. A tunnel of light. Darkness around it.

The truck appears again in the middle of it, parked and blocking the entire road lengthwise. The driver shouts another curse and slams on the brakes to stop from barrelling into it.

The whole car lurches with the sudden halt. You snap forward and back again, held down by the seatbelt. The other two hit the seats in front of them, cursing as they fix themselves. The weapons guy drops his gun and it clatters somewhere on the ground of the vehicle. You watch him dive down, cursing to himself before he finds it.

“Get him out of the way!” the driver shouts, pointing to the stopped vehicle. The two men get out of the car, sounding more aggravated by the obstacle than afraid. The other one pulls a gun so they are both armed as they approach the vehicle.

The men circle the truck. You can see they are yelling and cursing again. They come stomping back over to the vehicle. Even with all the windows rolled up, you can hear him as he shouts, “There’s no one fucking there!”

“What!” the driver returns, pointing ahead. “He didn’t just disappear! Check the—”

He is interrupted by the rattle of unexpected thunder – what sounds like someone running up and over the car from behind. You both look up as if you can see through the car roof. The men outside react just as fast, guns raised. Shots are swiftly fired and you cover your ears, flinching.

The figure comes into view. It feels like your heart stops.

Felix takes a flying leap off the roof of the car and comes swinging into view. He lands on the shoulders of one of the men. In one sharp move, Felix snaps the man’s neck. When his body crumples, Felix jumps, tackling the other man and knocking his gun out of the way. He pulls his own gun out of his waistband and you don’t even have time to cover your eyes before a bullet shatters the man’s temple. That body falls too.

It was a matter of seconds. The driver scarcely has time to react. He is fumbling with the glove compartment when Felix walks up to the car and shoots his window. The bullet does not penetrate the glass but it fractures it, sending shards flying onto the man.

You shriek, your voice coming back to you. Felix smacks the broken window with the butt of the gun, shattering it completely. He unlocks the car, his face devoid of all emotion as he throws open the door and reaches in. He grabs the man by the scruff of his neck and repeatedly slams his head against the steering wheel, knocking him out cold.

He closes the door with a kick and tucks his gun back in his waistband.

Adrenaline completely takes over your body. You do not think or reflect, only feel and act. Felix steps toward the car to open your door but you are already pushing it open. He steps back when it flies past him, already breathing hard when you stumble out of the vehicle on shaky legs.

“Do you have any idea—” he starts, his deep voice breaking. “Any, any idea how worried I was? And those stupid, fucking, incompetent—”

He is pointing to nowhere, just gesticulating in his emotions. It all seems to pour of him, terror and agony, anger and helplessness. He is wearing casual clothes, ripped jeans, a sleeveless red flannel over a t-shirt. He was probably sitting at home when he jumped into action.

His dark roots are starting show in his golden hair. You will have to colour that for him, you think, giddily, half-mad.

“You could have died,” he is saying. “They could have—”

You throw your arms around his neck and crash into him. It is a collision of a kiss, more teeth than lips until you figure out to close your mouth.

Those men could not move him but you can. He backs up under the guiding push of your soft hands, walking, walking, walking, each quick backward step until you have him pressed up against the truck, your lips still locked. When you finally separate it is with a gasping, wet split. You stare at each other, taking in the reality of the other person. Him, with blood disappearing into the red threads of his flannel. You, alive, unharmed, right here in front of him with no one to stop him from kissing you again.

He grabs you by the neck and pulls you back to him, kissing you with an open-mouthed desperation that has you practically sobbing with need. He flips your positions, cupping the back of your head so you are not hurt when he pins you to the truck. You sink your fingers into his hair, wrapping a leg around his waist as he grinds against the softest spot of you. He licks into your mouth, making a rumbling noise of deep, heartfelt satisfaction that makes you throb.

His lips are pink and raw when he stops for a breath. You kiss the side of his face, clinging to him, making a pleading noise when he does not resume kissing you.

He steps back and points to the car.

“Get in the truck,” he says firmly. “This isn’t the time. Don’t argue.”

You have no desire whatsoever to argue. You climb into the passenger seat while Felix makes a phone call. You watch him through the window, running a hand through his hair, his mouth pink, his shirt blood-stained.

You have always known Felix was capable of this sort of thing, but seeing it is very different than imagining it. Before it was some nebulous concept of a person but now the reality of him collides with the boy who has been sharing your bed for years. This is the same boy who needed your help to tie his school tie. Cartoon-watching, computer-building Felix, with his dry wit and toothy smiles.

You are not sure what it says about you that you are not afraid of him, not even a little bit. Maybe it is because you are not surprised. Maybe it is something else. But the only thing you want right now is for him to put his arms around you.

He gets into the truck and sits there for a moment, just breathing as he looks down at his phone. A thought flickers across his eyes, a twitch of his brows, then he turns off the phone and tosses it into the backseat. The gun follows with a clatter. You look back at both then at him with shock.

Felix has never turned off that phone. It is always completely charged and within reach. The GPS cannot be tracked if it is off. Your father cannot reach him if it is off. It is never supposed to be off.

You stare at him, tracing his profile as he pushes his hair back then starts the car. You only look away when you pass the other vehicle, the unconscious driver still slumped over the wheel. You turn your head, watching the scene disappear into the darkness behind you.

“Your father’s men will clean it up,” Felix says, drawing your eyes back to him. He does not look away from the road, resolutely focussed despite the lack of traffic on the country road.

“You left one alive,” you say. “What if he wakes up?”

“Uhh, he’ll be lucky if he is conscious in two days,” Felix says with a scoff. His lips draw into that thin line. “Your father will want someone to interrogate.”

You look out the windshield and sigh. You feel like you have aged years tonight yet it also feels like none of this really happened. It seems impossible that moments ago you were staring through a different windshield, petrified.

Felix looks at you. You turn your head and meet his gaze, watching grief twist his features before he looks ahead again.

“Did they hurt you?” he asks, gripping the wheel tight with both hands.

You shake your head, still facing him, studying him.

“I was thinking about you,” you say, the words escaping in a breathless slur. “It was the only thing that made me feel safe.” You find it easier to speak your feelings after everything. It’s like all that fear blasted through a barricade. You thought you might never see him again and all those feelings were trapped inside you. You cannot help but let them pour out now, like blood seeping from an open wound, your hand shaking as you reach across the console to touch the side of his face.

His breath stutters. He takes your hand and for a moment holds it, squeezing it in his. He does not look away from the road. Eventually he puts your hand in your lap, curling it around your thigh and squeezing, then he grabs the wheel again.

Your gaze drifts to the wheel then the overall truck. The rest of reality comes back to you in increments and you suddenly realize this is obviously not one of your father’s cars.

“Where did you get this truck?” you ask.

“I stole it,” he says.

“You stole a car?!” you shriek, voice naturally pitching up with surprise.

He looks at you incredulously.

“I just killed two men,” he says. “You’re worried about the car?”

“I don’t know!” You slouch in your seat, looking out the window. “Don’t talk to me, I’m traumatized.”

He shakes his head but laughs a little. You do not speak for a bit, the only sound the tires rolling over the gravel road. Then Felix sighs.

“They wouldn’t listen,” he says. “Your father’s, hmmm, ‘professionals’.” He rolls his eyes and clicks his jaw, clearly still pissed about it. “I knew it had to be Miroh. You were heading west to the highway when your GPS stopped. I knew where they’d be taking you. But your father’s geniuses thought you threw your phone and were running. But you wouldn’t do that, yeah. You want to be found. That’s why you run. You want him to care enough to chase you and bring you home.”

You look out your window, resting your head in your hand as rows of dark trees pass you by.

“Home,” you say. “Miroh. Not sure there’s going to be a difference in what’s waiting, is there?”

Felix says nothing to this. The gravel road comes to an end as you approach tarmac. Instead of turning left to return to the highway, Felix turns right. You look back through the window, confused, wondering if you mistook your location. But no, you are definitely driving further into the countryside.

“The highway is that way,” you say, looking at him. His whole body is tense, eyes locked on the road. “Aren’t we going home?”

“Yes,” he says, then turns up a different country road. “Eventually.”

You do not know what to expect with Felix. His emotional fluctuation is not as blatant as yours, but he does waver unpredictably, one moment leaning towards you and then pulling away. You do not know what he is planning and you do not ask. You simply stare through the window as you turn up a few more roads, getting further and further from the main road until you turn into a small gravel lane between some fields. Bushes surround the car on either side, the main road very far behind you.

Felix turns off the car but keeps both hands on the wheel, still staring intensely out the front window.

“Where are we?” you ask, squinting through the dark at the fields. It feels exceptionally quiet without the engine running.

“This cannot happen again,” Felix says.

He is still facing forward, concentrating on nothing that you can see. You look ahead then back at him, sighing with exasperation. If he drove you out here to just to lecture you some more…

“I know,” you say. “I shouldn’t have left in the first place. I’m sorry. I know it’s your job to—”

“This has nothing to do with my job,” he says. He shakes his head. “I— You—Do you understand how I— This is— This is reckless. Stupid. It cannot happen again, yeah? Do you get me?”

“I know,” you say. “And it won’t. I get it. No more running, I just—”

Your breath catches when he looks at you. There is so much heat in his gaze that you feel immediately flushed.

He undoes his seatbelt then reaches across the console and undoes yours. When you hear the click, it all registers. You reach for him as he wraps a hand around the back of your neck and pulls. This kiss is a crash as well, but a stumbling one, less vicious than thirsty. Arms get tangled in seatbelts but he manages to whip them aside. He guides you into his lap as you climb ungracefully over the console with all your shaking limbs.

You make a sound like relief when you are in his lap, chests touching, knees pressing into his hips, arms around his neck. His hands are under your borrowed hoodie, then under your shirt, palms splayed against the bare skin of your back as he kisses you with a wet open mouth, hungry and seeking, asking and taking.

He reaches to the side and fumbles for something. You squeal with surprise when the seat abruptly drops, your combined weight pushing it flat when he flips the lever. The surprise passes and he spills back, taking you with him. He yanks at your hoodie and you sit up to pull your arms through. Embarrassingly enough, you get tangled trying to remove it at the same time as your shirt. You get them both off, laughing shyly and feeling ridiculous with your ungraceful action.

He blinks up at you, his face full of much more wonder and affection than you think you merit. It is almost more embarrassing than your clumsiness.

Your awkward hand covers your collarbone but he takes that hand and brings it to his mouth, kissing you palm then your fingertips. You throb with the recollection of the last time he took your fingers in his mouth, except this time he doesn’t look away, all that heat centred on you.

He grasps your hips then slides his hands up your body. You wonder if other people feel like one big shivering mess at such simple touches. You blame it on today’s chaotic episode. For a moment, you were nothing and no one, floating in a bleak emptiness with no past or future. Just a bartering tool, business collateral, a thing sitting in a car for transport to be used by a different bad man for financial leverage.

Felix touches you and your body comes to life, all that humanity rushing back. You’re a person and so is he, flushed and excited, just a little messy but earnest. You find yourselves in a stolen moment in a stolen car, nothing yours but each other.

He palms your breasts through your bra then fumbles with the clasp, his usually dexterous hands suddenly jumpy. It makes you both laugh, tittering little sounds as you get it off and toss it aside. His calloused hands on your bare skin erases any lingering embarrassment.

Straddling his hips, you rock against him. The hard line of him is pushing at the fly of his jeans, as receptive and eager as you. You make similar sounds, soft low hums, used to keeping quiet. You remember you don’t have to restrain yourself so you moan when he cups you through your shorts, grinding the heel of his palm against the soft wet heat of you. You push his shirt up, running your hands over his chest, noticing a few scars but not lingering much right now.

You touch him like he touches you, hands wandering, working each other up until you are wild in your wanting. He makes a rough sound when you squeeze him through his jeans, then he is trying to work off your shorts while you unbutton his fly. You have to get off him to take the rest of your clothes off. His fingers are twitchy as they scrabble over his fly, unzipping then shuffling his jeans down his hips.

You are confronted with that moment of intention again, when his jeans are at his knees and his shirt is pushed up, when you are completely naked in a car in the middle of nowhere and climbing back on top of him, making the deliberate choice to do what you are doing. It is exhilarating. It is scary. You have big fears, about the repercussions in the world outside this vehicle, and you have little fears, like what if you are not good at this and you let him down after everything.

But that seems impossible when he looks at you like that, warm and desirous, breathing hard as he drags his fingers down your body and slips them between your thighs. You touch him too, marvelling in his sounds and faces, the flush of his cheeks, his mussed hair. With just his fingers inside you, he is already looking at you like you are a singular miracle.

It does feel miraculous. When you think of where you started, when you think of who you are, this seems so impossible. But you are here, losing yourself to his steady touch and tender gaze. You grab his wrist, instinctively seeking control when he works you up to an orgasm, making you clench around his fingers. You shudder on top of him, your head tipping back.

“Fuck,” he says, so low and guttural it hardly sounds like a word. Then he says softly, “Sweetheart.” This is accompanied with a long touch inside you, dragging his fingers so slowly, drawing out your orgasm until your whole body feels soft and pliant. You ache with the loss of him when he withdraws his touch, just his thumb rolling across that oversensitive nub of pleasure. Your skin already feels sweaty where you are touching, your hand curled around the length of him as you position yourself above him.

Even with his effort, it is a stretch and burn when you first sink down. You smack a hand on the roof of the truck, scratching your nails over it as you sit in his lap with him inside you.

He curses. His head falls back, his eyes closing.

“Is it okay?” you ask in a strained voice.

He replies, “Ahh…” then, “Uh!” then “Uhhhahh…” then finally, “Yes, yes. God yes.” He lifts his head and looks at where he is inside you, then he looks up at you. “Are you, uh, are you okay?”

His voice is a raspy thing, his face so raw with pleasure that you find yourself giggling in spite of yourself.

“Yeah,” you say on a breath. “Just… a lot.”

He sits up, careful not to jostle you too much. You still feel him moving inside you. When you clench, he makes a sound, but he is not distracted from his mission, cupping the back of your head and bringing you close for a kiss. You sink into it, your hands sliding onto his shoulders as his tongue slips past your lips.

He helps you move, both of you following base instinct and little else. It starts to feel deliriously good. You are light-headed from kissing, worked up from knowing he is as close to you as he possibly can be.

You move slowly, hands roaming over each other. You get his flannel off and toss it into the passenger seat. Then he braces himself to move his hips better, holding you steady. You touch the roof so you don’t hit your head, rolling your hips to meet him. It’s good but not enough and soon he is turning you over, laying you on your back under him. He has to separate from you to get comfortable.

You whine, touching yourself, and he smacks his head hard against the roof with surprise. You laugh, slapping a hand over your mouth while he winces and rubs his head.

“Are you okay?” you ask, still giggling. Fortunately, he chuckles, wincing again for show before sighing.

“Never better,” he says, and takes off his shirt. You are both perspiring and not just from exertion, the car trapping all your combined heat and breathing. The windows have completely fogged over and it shields you completely. You have never felt more safe. You eagerly open your legs to him as he settles on top of you and finds his place again.

You wrap around him, whimpering and moaning and sighing when he finds a rhythm in this position. He cradles you in his arms, rocking into you until you are dizzy with it. He somehow feels deeper and deeper with every motion. He kisses your chest and throat, up to your ear, across your face, your mouth. You kiss him back, hooking your ankles behind his back and pulling him hard against you like you want more.

“Got you,” he murmurs, lips grazing your ear. “Got you, sweetheart.”

He makes you come again, tears springing to your eyes from the sensation of it all. When his breathing gets frantic and his hips erratic, you let him go. You breathe hard under him as he sits back and grabs his discarded flannel, coming into that.

He tosses it aside after, then runs his fingers through his hair as he stares down at you. You slowly sit up and lean in for one more kiss. He obliges, cupping your face and kissing you deeply.

You want to wrap around him again, hold him to your chest and lay there until you are both ready for more.

You take what you can get. This was dangerous, but you have no regrets. Even when you are both dressed and in your own seats, you feel enflamed and alive and glowing.

He tosses his flannel out the window, leaving it on the ground behind you. You roll down the windows and return to the highway. It is a long drive home.

Your father does not punish you. He does not punish Felix in place of you. The house is deathly silent when you arrive home. Your father is in his office and Felix takes you there to see him.

Your father does not even look up from his book. After a moment he asks, “Did they hurt you?”

You shake your head but he isn’t looking at you, so you are forced to find your voice and answer, “No.”

“Good,” he says and turns the page to his book.

You are teetering on the edge of panic all over again, waiting for him to erupt, to throw something at you, to grab you by the hair and give you a beating worse than anything ever before. But he just turns another page to his book, so it’s you that erupts.

“It wasn’t my fault,” you say in a frantic rush. “Hyunjin and I broke up and I was upset so I wanted to see Jisung, that’s it, I just wanted to see my friend. It’s just because—”

Felix puts a hand on your shoulder, trying to stop you from running your mouth when you don’t need to do so. It succeeds in silencing you, your voice breaking. You swallow down a sob.

Your father finally lifts his head. His expression is completely blank. There is no trace of anger, no sadness, no guilt. You do not know what to do when he is like this. He is giving you nothing worth a reaction so all your emotions bubble inside you with nowhere to go, spilling over and scalding you like a boiling pot.

“Go to bed,” your father says. “What’s done is done.”

It is not surprising that you have a nightmare, waking in a fit that even Felix cannot comfort. Your half-asleep mind panics when he grabs you, forgetting who he is. Only when he repeats your name in that sweet, low voice do you remember yourself. You collapse against him, shaking while he strokes your back and talks gently to you, lulling you back to sleep. It remains fitful and uneven but you get through the night.

You are expecting the punishment to come in the morning but your father does not speak to you even though he is in the house. You do not see him all day. You have another restless night of bad dreams, Felix comforting you as best he can. You wake the next morning thinking that surely, the punishment would come today. There is no way your father is letting you get away with this. He is planning something, something big, something you will never forget.

But your father is gone and so is the security team. Felix phones him and your father informs him that he had some impromptu business to take care of, that he would be gone for the next week.

You are driving to school on Monday morning when Felix says, “Maybe he thinks it was punishment enough on its own.”

“Do you really believe that?” you ask.

Felix does not answer because he knows how far-fetched that is. He knows your father as well as you do.

There are only a couple more days of school. This late in the semester, the lessons are completed, exams being graded. Everyone is gearing up for graduation, signing yearbooks, taking pictures. Classes offer more down time than work, letting students mingle. It is easy few handful of days, the most exceptionally fun days of the whole year.

Jisung would not miss it. And he would not abandon you after your conversation. When he is missing from school on Monday, you are immediately filled with horror.

Felix looks at you when he realizes Jisung is missing, doing his best to calm you with his eyes.

“He wouldn’t,” you murmur, just loud enough for Felix to hear. “Tell me he wouldn’t…”

Felix says nothing. He knows your father as well as you do.

You try phoning Jisung at various intervals through the day but it keeps going straight to voicemail. Jisung is not great at keeping his phone charged so this is not unusual on its own, but you cannot shake the dread in the pit of your gut.

Before the day ends, you all but throw yourself at Felix. All it takes is one teary-eyed please for him to nod, understanding.

You have the driver take you to Jisung’s house. Felix steps out of the car and calls your father, needing to report your diversion from routine, but also hopefully gleaning some intel into your father’s potential involvement. Meanwhile, you run up the porch and frantically bang on the door, not stopping until Jisung’s mother whips it open.

“What?” she snaps. “Why are you banging— oh it’s you.”

“Where is he?” you ask. “Is he sick? Can I see him?”

“He’s just at the hospital,” she says like this is no big deal at all, even while you are sweating through your clothes with anxious terror.

“The hospital?” you ask. “Why is he—”

“Calm down! He just had an allergic reaction,” she says. “Stupid child ate peanuts and didn’t have his pen. He’ll be fine.”

“Can you tell me which hospital?” you say. Some tension leaves your body with this revelation but even so, you will not feel truly at ease until you can see that Jisung is safe with your own two eyes.

His mother tells you where to find him and you thank her while she closes the door in your face. You are feeling lighter already, heart bursting with light when you spin and jump off the porch.

You rush up to Felix, eager to report your good news, but you draw to a slow stop at the look on his face. This is not his professional indifference, listening to commands, but instead an expression of obvious remorse. He looks apologetic, eyes full of pity, as he extends his arm, handing you the phone.

You press the device to your ear, heart skipping beats in the worst way.

“Hello?” you say.

“After everything I have done for you,” your father says. “After everything I have given you. After my leniency despite your repeated abominable behaviour. For you to end things with an appropriate boy to go chasing after some no-count, miscreant loser with no future and no—”

“What are you talking about?” you say. “I don’t even know—”

“You stupid little—” You can picture his face, mouth frothing with rage, brows pinched in fury. You can picture him catching his breath as he slams a hand on his desk. “Do you think I couldn’t see it all over your face? That you were out whoring around with that nobody boy you call a friend? I could see your commitment to the Hwang boy was a front but I foolishly thought you were making an effort to improve yourself. How long have you been deceiving me? Fronting with the Hwang boy while you run around with your schoolboy behind my back?”

He thinks you’re dating Jisung. He thinks this is all because of Jisung. You cannot tell him the truth without ruining your life, Felix’s life, and Hyunjin’s life.

You scramble for a defence, a denial, but memories of you and Felix flood your mind, the panic of that night takes over you, and soon you are freezing up.

“He didn’t do anything wrong,” you eventually manage, your voice quivering with the rest of you. “Please, Jisung is completely innocent, he’s just my friend, he—”

“Please,” your father says derisively. “You have the audacity to say please to me now. To ask for my permission now. You listen to me and you listen well. What I did to this boy was nothing. Having an allergen slipped into his food was a warning to you. Your one and only warning, a warning I am only giving you because I prefer not to deal with civilian messes when I can avoid it. But I whole-heartedly assure you, that if I find out you are in contact with this boy, if I find out you are even thinking about looking in his direction, it is over for him. I will have him shot in the fucking head in front of you if that’s what it will take to get through to you.”

You are bombarded with the image of Felix shooting those men. Suddenly, you imagine it is Jisung across from him instead. You look at Felix with a frantic, terrified look. Your voice is weak when you say, “Dad, please, he’s—”

“Do not talk to back me!” he screams. “You spoiled little slut! He’s trash, is what he is! Do you know what kind of life I have given you? How dare you insult me this way. How dare you throw it all on that waste of a person. You go to that boy and you tell him to stay away or it will be the end of him. Do you understand me? Say yes or so help me—”

“Yes,” you say, sucking in a hard breath to keep your tears at bay. “Yes, fine, just leave him alone. Don’t hurt him, please.”

Your father hangs up without another word.

You look up at Felix. He takes the phone, sucking in a breath of his own.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“It’s not your fault,” you say.

Jisung is sitting up in his hospital bed when you find him. His phone is a dead brick sitting on his bedside table, uncharged as anticipated. He is sipping from a carton and watching television when you walk into the room, surprising him. His face lights up with delight and he chokes on his drink, dribbling a bit down his front.

You hurry to his side, worried, but he just laughs and wipes his chin.

“Hey, hey, don’t worry,” he says. “It was just a flare-up. They’re just keeping me for observation to make sure I don’t, you know, suffocate and die in my sleep.” He says this like it is ridiculous and funny but you are overwhelmed with the image of Jisung lying still in this bed, all the life and colour of your wonderful and vibrant best friend drained to nothing.

Jisung can see something is wrong. The humour falls from his expression, replaced with concern as he sees you well up with tears.

“Hey,” he says, softer. “I said I’m fine. Don’t worry. Is this about something else? Are you okay?”

You are not crying but you can feel the emotion in your throat. If you speak, you think it will pour out in a flood. You can only sit there, perched on the edge of his bed, staring at him. He still looks strange without his hat. Although he is joking around, there is an admitted pallor to his complexion. He is on the mend but he has clearly been very ill for a day at least.

That pallor and serious expression look so wrong on his face. When you think of Jisung, you think of happiness, the first burst of sunshine in your life after growing up in shade. You think about his awkward laughter during your first conversation, his many hugs, his stupid jokes, his winks and encouragements. You did not know how to love anyone or anything until you met him.

In your silence, he looks around, spotting Felix hovering in the doorway.

“Felix!” he says. “Hey! What’s going on?”

“Hey,” Felix says gently. He looks at you, sees your downturned face as you gather yourself. He smiles at Jisung with his best distracting grin, like everything is fine, like everything has always been fine. “Just saying bye, man,” Felix says.

“Bye?” Jisung asks. “Where are you going? Right before grad? Not back to Australia, are you?” Jisung looks at you and pets your head. “Is Felix leaving? Is that why you’re upset?”

“No, Jisung,” you say, forcing your voice. You shake your head. “No, it’s not Felix. I just…” You look up and meet his eyes, so big and concerned. You see him at age twelve, thirteen, fourteen, all those years he coaxed you out of your shell and ran around with you. He was the first person to look back at you, to see something worth reaching for. You want to touch his face and hug him, but you are certain if you start any of that, you will not be able to do what you need to do. “Jisung, I’m leaving,” you say. “I won’t be able to see you again.”

“What?” he asks, confused for just a moment before he shakes his head and frowns. “This is about your dad, isn’t it? Is he doing something? You have to let me help you—”

“Jisung, you can’t help me—”

“Yes, I can—”

“You can’t—”

“Then who’s going to?” he demands.

“Not you!” Anger and sadness combine and you look away, staring at the crinkled juice carton on his bedside table. He is here because of you. “Jisung, he made you sick. He will try to kill you.”

“What?” Jisung asks, barely above a whisper. “H-how? I don’t even—”

“He has professionals,” you say, meeting his bewildered gaze again. “And he can do much worse than this.”

Jisung opens and closes his mouth, failing to find the words, then finally he shakes his head and says, “No. I don’t care. I’m not scared, I’m—”

“I’m scared,” you say. “Jisung, I don’t want to see you ever again, because if something happened to you—” You cannot conceive of a world where this is no Han Jisung. You would not be the person you are now if he had never existed. You would not have any emotions at all. For the first time, you do not curse your sensitive feelings, rather you relish in feeling them at all, that you have a friend that it hurts to lose. “Jisung, please,” you say. “Don’t make this harder for me. I’m going to go and we can’t see each other again. The best thing you can do for me is have a good life.”

Jisung starts crying, shaking his head and rubbing his eyes.

“That’s not fair,” he says. “What about you? What am I supposed to do?”

“I’m sorry,” you say. You laugh dryly, looking aside. “It would have been better for you if you never knew me.”

“You already know that’s not true,” he says in a small voice.

You are certain his face is full of pain but you cannot bring yourself to look at him again. You try to say the word goodbye but it gets stuck in your throat, so finally you just stand up to leave.

He grabs your arm, tugging you back. You stare at the bed, not at him.

“I said my promise was forever,” he says. “I don’t care if it’s in five years, or ten years, or fifty. I know I’m not—I know I can’t do much but—if you need me—”

You just nod, scrunching your face to stop the tears. It does not work. You pull your arm away and he lets you go, his hands falling helplessly limp to the bed. You stare at the ground as you walk away, not looking back at him, not even looking at Felix.

You are standing in the doorway when Jisung says your name one more time, barely more than a whisper yet stopping you faster than all your father’s screaming.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you,” he says.

You look up at Felix. You know when you leave this place, you are going to take his hand. When you climb into bed tonight, you are going to wrap your arms around him and let him hold and comfort you. You are going to soothe his nightmares the way he does yours. You are going to carve out a corner of light and happiness in your otherwise dark life. You are going to do that because you know how, because having a friend made all the difference.

“Oh, Jisung,” you say, wiping your face. “You did save me.”

You do not stop again, walking past Felix and into the corridor. He follows swiftly behind, laying a hand on your lower back then taking your hand. You squeeze it and he squeezes back. You let him guide you out of the building, your vision blurry. He knows there is nothing he can say to help right now, but he touches you gently and helps you along. When you get home, he trails behind you as you trudge up the stairs to the bedroom.

“Can I do something?” he asks.

You shake your head. “Not right now, thank you.” Your voice is still weak. “Maybe later.”

“Okay,” he says. “I’ll be here.”

You nod and continue up the stairs, not even sure what your plan is right now. It feels strange to go about your usual routine but that is what you do, your body carrying you automatically through each task, changing clothes, putting your uniform away, washing your face.

You sit at your desk and decide you might as well go through your stack of school supplies. You have been dumping textbooks and notebooks here as the semester ends. You sort the empty notebooks from the used ones, the books you will never re-read from the ones to shelve. You find your yearbook in the middle of it all. You realize you never actually read Jisung’s message.

You open the book, skimming the other messages from other students. Lots of Have a Great Summer from Hyunjin’s friends, but a few cute personalized memos too. Felix’s joking scrawl is at the bottom of a page and it makes you smile and shake your head. You smile again when you read Hyunjin’s note: Our lives will not be meaningless. He ended it with a playful, LOVE YOU MY GIRLFRIEND!!

You flip through the book. You were not in any clubs or on any teams so there are very few pictures of you, just your posed portrait and one photo on a collage page – you, Jisung, and Felix awkwardly smiling as the yearbook photographer snapped a picture of you at lunchtime.

You swallow. You already know turning to the last page is going to make you cry. You could avoid it. You could close this book and never think about it again. Your father would never walk into any situation that would deliberately compromise his mental and emotional integrity. He would deride you for doing so. You used to think he was right, that your feelings were a weakness.

You realize your feelings make him weak, not you. He wants you to be a robotic doll, devoid of feelings, blindly obedient, but you are not. You will never strive to be that.

You flip to the final page, filled with Jisung’s writing. You smile and cry and curse out your father, then close the book and hug it to your chest, your heart beating steadily where you cradle it close.

To the bestest most awesome girl in the world (not just saying that because you’re the only girl I know) from the bestest most awesome boy in the world (including your evil boyfriend, sorry!)

Usually it’s easy for me to put my thoughts in writing but I’m drawing a blank. How can I tell you in words how important your friendship is when that friendship is made up of more than words? I never thought I’d be someone who runs off to parties or sneaks out onto rooftops, and I never thought I’d have so many friends. Thank you for giving me the world. I hope we can keep exploring it together. I know no matter what, we’ll still be friends, even if we’re far away after school ends. Our parents might suck and we might be kinda weird as hell, but we have each other and that counts for something. We loved each other first so no matter what else happens that will be always true. Boyfriends will come and go but your best friend is forever!! And you know I’ll be ready with a shovel if anyone breaks your heart. I know it’s sappy to say, but it’s always safe with me.

Times might be hard and we might drift apart, but I know we’ll see each other again and it will be like we never left. Take care of yourself if I’m not there. Keep fighting!!! Nothing will be impossible for you.

Your best friend now + always,

Han Jisung ♡

#skz smut #stray kids smut #lee felix smut #lee felix x reader #felix x reader #skz x reader

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