#man is not going to chase after ANYBODY | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thewulf · 1 year

Text

That's a Kill || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Y/N Kazansky. The Admiral's daughter. You always had to prove yourself to the boys. The good old boys. You never thought much of any of them, knowing you were better than them. That was until you were called back to Top Gun. You meet Lieutenant Jake "Hangman" Seresin who drives you nuts, the first day. You start to fall for the man in front of you as he does the same.

A/N: You all really are the sweetest. This one is a bit longer. Hope you enjoy! I Appreciate the feedback! All fluff. We're also pretending Ice is completely okay - no cancer :)

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Y/N

Word Count: 8,900+

Part 2 | Part 3

You weren’t sure you wanted to be a pilot when you were a kid. Over the years you learned to love flying, especially with your dad. He had always encouraged flying but never forced you into anything you didn’t want to do. Your brother on the other hand had decided he wanted to be a pilot just like his daddy. He became a damn good one at that. But you, you were exceptional. Once you decided you did want to become a pilot you weren’t going to stop until you were the best. You kept true to your word; you were one of the best. You graduated first in your class at Top Gun, earning the coveted picture on the wall. It wasn’t without challenge though. People made many assumptions about you because of your dad that you had to overcome. Once you did, you were a force to be reckoned with.

You were so different than your dad, oh so different. Your dad, the legendary “Iceman”, Tom Kazansky, was a cocky son of a bitch (his terms, not yours). He always got whatever he wanted. He was cool, calm, and collected Tom. He was ice cold. He was Iceman. It worked for him.

But you, you decided from an early age that you caught more flies with honey than you did vinegar. You quite literally killed them with kindness. It became your thing. You only seemed to grow kinder over time, never letting anybody walk all over you though. It worked for you.

You shamelessly tried to hide your lineage, but it just didn’t work with your brother’s big mouth and your rather recognizable last name. Kazansky wasn’t easy to hide with your dad being an Admiral and all.

The word spread quickly of the Admiral’s daughter joining the ranks of Top Gun. You kept your head low and worked hard. You were kind to everybody in your class confusing your instructors who had to deal with your brother, and your dad, not that long ago. You didn’t have the ego nor the cockiness your lovely father and brother had. You were laid back, kind, but so sure of yourself.

You were a quiet one too. You never spoke out of turn only when you were addressed. Just a quiet observer in a world of crass pilots who thought they were the best. You knew you had a leg up on all the boys in your class, you were trained by your dad and Maverick from a very early age. You were yet to beat either of them, but you swore your day was coming. Each time you went up in the air you were determined to fly even better than the last, they both noticed. They knew you were special, Y/N Kazansky.

When you were in the air you were just as cool, calm, and collected as your dad. You knew you were better than your brother you would just never dare to say it out loud. You flew just like your dad did. Ice cold. You had that something special that everybody chased after. People didn’t know how to deal with you, your personality didn’t match up with the girl who flew. It made you smile, they always walked on eggshells around you. You knew you held the power you just never took advantage of it.

Your personality is what got you the callsign Lava. Everybody claimed you were the exact opposite of your father. You wanted to disagree with them, you and your dad were more alike than anybody knew. But you couldn’t fault them, the way the two of you presented yourselves was completely different. You were kind, you smiled at people, and you helped others. You had to laugh at the subtle shade that was being thrown your fathers way. You knew how cold he could be, but you also knew how loving of a guy he really was. You loved the entire situation, so you embraced your callsign. What was the opposite of Ice? Fire. But Fire didn’t sound as cool as Lava, per the boys, so Lava it was.

The instructors couldn’t quite grasp who you were. You were a sweetheart on the ground but a menace in the air. You didn’t even sound like yourself when you were giving orders and having the time of your life in the sky. You proved them wrong time and time again in the air. They thought you only got into Top Gun because of Ice; boy were they wrong. You just had that little something extra that other pilots didn’t seem to have. You couldn’t put your finger on it, nobody could figure it out either. That was years ago now, you had graduated Top Gun first in your class two years prior.

You went on a few decent missions that brought you some sense of accomplishment. You were sure your father had something to do with all the lame assignments you had been given over the last few years. You were the best of the best and you were going on missions that any pilot could go on. You had blowout arguments with your dad about it. He claimed he never did anything, you just had to believe him even though it didn’t make sense to you.

That was until you were called back to Top Gun. You were called back just like the rest of them. You were a few years younger than the majority of group that was invited. You weren’t familiar with anybody you were briefed on. You’d certainly heard of them though; they were all very well known within the Naval Aviator ranks. The best part about being a Kazansky was getting to know who you were going on missions with.

“No Will?” You asked your dad. Will was your older brother, three years older. He had gone to Top Gun with a few of the people on this list of twelve. You recognized Hangman from his class. Will always complained about him telling you the stories of how he earned his callsign Hangman. Will always referred to him as Bagman, you made of note of that one in your head. You grinned seeing him on the list knowing he’d be a tough one to deal with.

Your dad shook his head, “No, he isn’t ready yet.”

You nodded your head eyeing your dad curiously, “Must be serious then?”

“More than you know Y/N. Please, be careful.”

You hid a smile from your face seeing his apprehension. You knew it had to be one hell of a mission, “Yes sir.” Finally, your chance at something big.

You had gotten the invitation just like the rest, to meet everybody at the Hard Deck the night prior to your reporting day. You really didn’t want to go but you had a feeling that everybody else was going to be there. You were mortified when it said to show up in uniform. You considered showing up in your civ gear but decided it would be worse if you were the only one to show up in regular clothes.

You ended up going in your uniform trying to play it cool as you entered the bar. You quickly spotted the other aviators before slyly made your way over to them, all of them in uniform. You mentally thanked yourself for wearing it.

You sat down next to the most unassuming looking person there who happened to be shoveling popcorn into his face, “Hi.” You greeted him as you took a seat.

“Hi!” He smiled setting the popcorn down, “I’m Bob.” He stuck his hand out to you. He was a little dorky, but you just knew you were going to love him.

You nodded taking his hand gently in yours, “I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you Bob, what’s your callsign?”

He laughed while nodding his head, seemingly like he just went through this, “Bob.”

“I like it!” You giggled.

“Thank you, Y/N.” He smiled genuinely seeming to not get that reaction all too often, “And yours?”

“Lava. Lav for short if you wish.” You smiled swinging your legs back and forth on the high-top chair.

“Noted.” He smiled at you while fixing his glasses, “How’d you get that name?”

You sighed leaning back into your seat, “My dad. Kinda sucks when your own callsign comes from somebody’s else.” You paused for a second before continuing, “My dad is Iceman.” You nearly whispered the last part. Everybody knew about Iceman. Iceman this or Iceman that. He was a legend among Top Gun piloting legends.

“You’re Admiral Kazansky’s daughter?”

You nodded looking your head down, “I swear I’m a good pilot Bob. I’m not just here because of the name.”

“I didn’t mean that!” Bob spoke frantically, “Just surprised is all, your kind of well-known but nobody really knows you. I’m surprised you’re here.”

You bit your lip in spite, “I believe my dear old dad had something to do with that. I’ve always flown the most basic missions. None of them worth a damn. Who knows how I even made it here?” You said grumbling in frustration.

Bob shrugged, “Who cares? You’re here.”

You nodded your head, “You’re right Bob, I am here.”

“And who do we have here?” A new voice interrupted the two of you. You slowly turned your head seeing your brothers favorite pilot leaning against the chair next to you with a toothpick sticking out of his mouth. You had to admit he looked good. Better than the pictures ever showed. Your damn brother would never mention how handsome he was to you either, you weren’t surprised. Will had made him out to be some horrific monster. Not the tall, tan, muscular pilot standing before you.

“Y/N.” You gave him your sweetest smile knowing you’d have to kick up the charm to get through to him. You didn’t necessarily want to beat Hangman, you simply wanted to get into his head. You wanted to know he could be beat if you wanted to. You weren’t a hundred percent sure you were better than Hangman in the air you just had a sneaking suspicion you were.

His eyes flicked down to the last name embroidered on your chest. Kazansky big and bold for everybody to see. You heard him chuckle before looking up to you, “The other Kazansky. Thought you were some mythical creature. Nice to know you actually exist.”

You smirked seeing just how this man got under Will’s skin so bad, “Nice to meet you Bagman.”

He snorted setting his beer down ready for the conversation to begin, “Seems like your brothers got a big mouth. Where is he?”

“I don’t disagree.” You giggled, making sure to turn that charm up even harder than before, “Dad said he’s not ready.” Shrugging you leaned back into your seat wishing you had a beer to distract yourself with.

“That’s cold Kazansky.” He eyed you up and down taking you in. He didn’t know how much trouble he really was in before he initiated the conversation between the two of you. He was starting to get a sense of just how fucked he knew he was once you started throwing words right back at him with the sweetest look on your face. He knew right then and there you were going to be a problem for him, a thorn in his side. He got a rush just thinking about it knowing he had to continue the conversation on for as long as you would let him.

“Would you say, ice cold?” You tapped the table.

You heard Bob let out laugh from behind you, almost forgetting he was sitting there. Hangman shook his head leaning just a touch closer to you, seemingly being drawn in by you, “My real name’s Jake. Jake Seresin.” He stuck his hand out to you waiting for your response to his move.

“Will did not like you Mr. Seresin.” You took his hand gently in yours, just as you did Bob’s. Not reacting to his firm grip instead cocking your head to the side looking at him curiously. You felt him release your grip immediately. You weren’t sure why but that move made every man react the same way, almost embarrassed to be showing off to you.

He took a second to regain his composure, thoroughly enamored with the game he knew he had just begun with you. “I hope you don’t take anything he said to heart darling.”

Smooth. So smooth. You were a sucker for endearing names. He didn’t know that, and you couldn’t let that one slip. Your turn to regain composure. You just hoped your delicately crafted façade hadn’t slipped already, “Your telling me not to trust my own brother? Wow. That’s cold Seresin.”

“You don’t think family can be a bit dramatic sometimes?” The world around you two had seemed to slip away. You forgot Bob behind you. Hangman forgetting the game of pool he was playing with another guy, looked like Payback to you.

“A bit. But I don’t think my dad is.” You played the dad card not really caring that you did. Wanting to keep him on this toes.

You saw him visibly gulp, “Now, I know your joking.” He almost sounded, desperate? You knew you had to draw it back a little bit. Truth be told your dad only had good things to say about Hangman, some thing he needed to work on in the air but a damn good pilot otherwise.

You shrugged hopping up from your seat, “I’m getting a beer. Bob, you need one?” You turned back to the silent observer who was picking up on something between the two of you.

“I’m good.” He smiled back to you.

You waved at him before turning back to Jake, “Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. Guess you’ll have to find out Bagman.” You winked at him before making your way to the bar.

The rest of your night consisted of strategically staying away from Hangman. You didn’t want to get caught up with his antics just yet. You felt what Bob had seen earlier. The bantering between the two of you came way to easy. It didn’t take you long to warm up to a person, but you just felt connected to Jake instantly. You decided when you walked away from him earlier that you would have to avoid him at all costs. You didn’t really think the plan would work but it would certainly delay the inevitable. You knew the two of you would either become the best of friends or hate each other bitterly. You didn’t want the latter, so you decided to avoid it.

Any other night and you would have likely gone home with Harvard. You were instantly charmed by the Clark Kent looking man. You knew it wasn’t the brightest idea to go home with him once you realized you kept looking around for Hangman to see if he was paying attention to you or not. You accidentally caught his eye a few times instantly looking away. He smirked know he had gotten into your head. Physically, you were with Harvard but mentally, Hangman had caught your attention. So, he backed off, he saw what you were doing. He wasn’t dumb. He was thrilled when he saw Harvard leave without you. You moved back to Phoenix, still avoiding Hangman.

You got to know the entire Dagger squad the rest of the night. You were one of three women on the team of twelve, Phoenix and Halo rounding out the crew. You knew you would grow close to Rooster, hearing everything about him from Maverick, he was the life of the party. The squad welcomed you with open arms. You still avoided Hangman, knowing how screwed you were. But he knew, he knew he won that night.

The next morning you were pleasantly surprised to learn that Maverick was your instructor, a detail your father had refused to give you. You sensed the tension immediately between Rooster and Mav. You quickly remembered just how awful things were between the pair You didn’t know Rooster personally, until you met him last night, but you felt like you knew him from the stories you were told. You weren’t sure why you had never met him before last night. He was older than you are sure, but it still didn’t add up. Mav always said Carole had kept him to keep him from the Navy, one of the many failed attempts.

You were snapped back into reality when you heard the two quietly arguing with one another before the class was dismissed. You sat patiently waiting on Mav to pack up and the rest of the class to leave.

“Good class Mav. Can’t wait to start.” You grinned getting up from you seat.

“Kazansky. Good to see you kid.” He walked over wrapping you into a tight hug.

“Dad didn’t spill. Can’t believe your teaching us!” You squeezed him tightly.

He ruffled your hair after releasing you, “Didn’t know until a few days ago.”

“Oh Yeah!” You laughed, “You blew up the Darkstar! Dad told me all about it.”

“Course he did.” He chuckled guiding you out of the classroom. The next six hours consisted of field air training. You couldn’t be more pumped to have your hand at Mav again.

“Heard you went past Mach 10 though. That’s certifiable Mav.” You paused as you got to the front of the women’s locker room.

He nodded stopping with you, “Pushed her a bit too far. We’ll get her next time.”

You nodded along with him, “Good luck up there, old man.”

He feigned hurt by placing his hand on his heart, “You wound me Kazansky, I still don’t recall you ever getting me though.”

“Eat it.” You laughed walking into the locker room.

You changed into your flight suit quickly. Phoenix and Halo were already finishing up, they waited on you while you changed keeping you company. All twelve of you gathered in the training room waiting on direction from Maverick.

“Payback, Fanboy, and Rooster. Your up first.” Mav spoke in the doorway entry exiting quickly to his plane. The nine of you tuned the radio into the channel listening into the chatter between all the aviators.

You simply smiled listening into the panic once Mav came on Radar between all the pilots. He had done that shit to you so many times before. So Maverick. You giggled when Payback and Fanboy nearly begged for 200 pushups, no idea what they were in for. Maverick broke the rules. He didn’t give a shit about the Navy’s policies. Maverick did what Maverick wanted to do. He always had your dad to pardon him, he was truly fearless.

You were up next once all three were eliminated. You were with Hangman. You audibly laughed once Maverick gave you your assignment. You turned to him radiantly, “Let’s beat him.”

He snickered, “Yes ma’am.” Whew, you nearly melted. You had to turn away quickly walking out of the training room and to your plane so you wouldn’t get distracted. You and Hangman were up in the air five minutes later in two separate planes, of course.

“Let’s see what you can do sweetheart.” He chuckled before breaking left away from you.

You audibly sighed forgetting you were on radio for everybody to hear, “That’s why they fucking call you Bagman.” You knew you were on your own, not that you minded. You were used to this game with Maverick. You heard Maverick audibly laugh, the game was on.

You had avoided him and tried to help Hangman, but Maverick was just too good. He knocked Hangman out first. Your turn. You lasted longer than you thought you would, pulling out all the stops and maneuvers you had been taught throughout all the years. You faltered when a flock of birds changed the plans in your head at the last minute breaking you right instead of left which left you as a sitting duck. You mentally cursed yourself when you hopped out of your jet joining Hangman in your 200 pushups.

“Not bad Kazansky.” Maverick patted you on the shoulder.

You shook your head, “That was not good Mav, and you know it. I should have seen those damn birds sooner.” You wanted to pout but replaced your frown with a small smile.

“You’re too hard on yourself kid. That’s the best I’ve seen you fly. Don’t sweat it. Plus, I need your head in the game. These next few weeks aren’t going to be for the faint of heart.”

You nodded, “Got it, Captain.” You smiled, “Now don’t mind me, I have a punishment I must fulfil.”

“Lieutenant.” He nodded before walking back to the training center. Grabbing the next pair of victims.

You dropped down and began your pushups. Jake was already past 150. You grumbled internally knowing he would be watching you once he finished. You loved having his eyes on you but him being this close was rather intimidating.

“Thanks for the help up there.” He spoke once he finished his 200.

You sighed knowing you were just going to have to have a conversation with him because you couldn’t move, “If you would have listened to me, you wouldn’t have been shot down.” You said as sweetly as you could muster. Pushups were never really your thing. You could do them. They just weren’t the prettiest nor the fastest.

“I disagreed.” He retorted.

“Thus, why you were shot down.” You said quickly, knowing how easy it was to get him upset. You just considered it payback.

He sat there quietly watching you. He didn’t really blame you. He blatantly didn’t listen to you on purpose. Not wanting to believe you were as good as he thought you were. Turns out you were better. He thought you might even be better than him. Especially watching you work with Maverick. He was in awe of your ability to control the aircraft. You were effortless in the air.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” You spoke up breaking him from his trance.

He bit his lip sending shivers down your spine. Not good. Not a good reaction you thought, “I would if I could Darling, don’t seem to have my phone on me though.”

Smooth, he always seemed to have something to say. When he didn’t, he sat down and shut up to figure out how to get himself out of the situation. He knew you’d beat him though and that excited him beyond belief. He was yet to be matched and he knew that Y/N Kazansky would be the first to change that.

You playfully rolled your eyes, “Pig.”

He shrugged, “You suggested it Lava.”

You nearly recoiled hearing your callsign off his tongue. You truly didn’t dislike your callsign it just wasn’t frequently used for you. You were often called Baby Ice or Kazansky. You didn’t want to admit how good it sounded though. How much you liked hearing any sort of your identification coming from his lips. You needed to get ahold of yourself and quick.

You sighed getting up from the ground shaking your arms out, “Just try and keep up next time Seresin.” You smiled to him before walking away.

He walked up behind you almost making you jump. You weren’t expecting that. Kind of bold you thought, “Need any help stretching those arms out darling?”

You almost gasped at his forwardness. You really didn’t know how to handle this man. You could’ve sworn that my growing up around your dad and Mav you would’ve been prepared for any scenario. You were wrong about that. Jake Seresin was figuring you out quicker than anybody had in your entire life, perhaps he’s the only one that would be able to. That truly freaked you out. You had a finely crafted exterior that nobody had been able to penetrate. You were worried that was going to change and soon.

You shook your head, “Don’t even think about it Hangman.” You laughed smiling back to him. He really was a handsome man. Blond hair and green eyes. You were a sucker for a man with green eyes. You knew once he figured that out, you’d be a goner.

He smiled at your resistance. His breath got caught in his throat as you whipped around and greeted him with that smile. He was a sucker for a beautiful smile and man oh man did you have a million-dollar smile. He returned to his thoughts quickly as you turned back away from him, “Just offering sweetheart.” He followed you back to the training room where you were cheered for and greeted by the other pilots.

You weren’t sure what Mav was up to when he told the class to meet at the Hard Deck at 5 PM that night and to wear your ‘beach workout gear’. You were sure you were incredibly nervous as to what beach workout gear meant to the guys, specifically Mr. Jake Seresin.

You weren’t given much time to go home and change, Mav letting you go at 4 PM, giving you just an hour to get ready. You raced back to your temporary home looking for just the right clothes. You mentally cursed yourself for putting so much time and thought into what you were going to wear to this sunset workout, specifically for Jake. You had never done this sort of thing for any guy you’ve come across in the Navy yet somehow Jake freaking Seresin was beginning to wrap you up in his tangled web.

You groaned hitting your head softly against the wall. You knew your dad would be getting a kick out of this one. Your dad never thought anybody was ever going to crack your hard exterior, much less a boy from Top Gun. You were always so much more confident than anybody you had come across. Your dad would always comment on it, sure that you would rarely get challenged. But here came Jake Seresin to mess up all your plans and assurances.

Maverick was yet to catch onto anything between the two of you. You had gone up with Hangman a few more times, each time a little better than the last. All Mav noticed was the bickering between the two, seemingly no different than any other flight with Hangman. He seemed to bring out the fighter in everybody he talked to. But the bickering was different, for Jake it was. You were so much quicker and wittier than anybody he had come across. You seemed to have a response ready to go at the tip of your tongue no matter what he said. You only got tripped up when he mentioned not very work appropriate actions. Your face would go a light shade of pink when he alluded to indecent things in such a casual manor. He was ready to use that against you, simply bidding his time.

What Jake did notice was how damn good of a pilot you were though. He found that the two of you were easily matched. You were quicker and seemingly more agile in the air. He was better at locking onto targets than you were though, he locked onto Mav a few times but failed to hit him so far. Mav was as cocky as ever, so much fun to watch as he ripped through the air. Always proudly shouting his favorite phrase as he show the twelve of you down over and over, “That’s a kill.” You really couldn’t wait to use it against him one of these days.

After letting yourself think way to hard for a few moments you snapped back to the present. You decided on a simple set of a black sports bra and spandex. You through on a loose tank top fully intending to take it off if it got to hot in the San Diego sun.

You rushed down to the Hard Deck upset at yourself for leaving with such little time to spare. You hated being late, something your dad instilled in you at a very young age. That topped with your mom making you late to everything she took you to cause that sense of dread every time you were coming close to being late. Luckily, you got there with a few minutes to spare rushing over to Phoenix and Halo’s side.

Jake grinned when he saw you arrive a little frantically. He had picked up on your punctuality. You were always one of the first aviators to arrive in the classroom and in the field. He saw a glimpse of panic when you arrived far to close to Mavericks call time. He smiled knowing he had noticed another small thing about you. He never planned to use it against you only to use it for his advantage. He knew you were always early to things giving him a chance to talk to you alone, away from the other pilots.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when Maverick called everybody to attention. He explained the rules of his made-up game of Dogfight Football. You were an avid football watcher knowing the game like the back of your hand. You weren’t allowed to grow up in house with Iceman and not know every rule like a ref would. What Maverick was explaining though confused even you. Nonetheless you split into two teams. Phoenix and Rooster on your team. Hangman, Payback and Cayote on the other. Halo was unfortunately snatched up by the opposite side, she lined up against Phoenix. Leaving you with Hangman. You wanted to complain about how unfair a matchup it was but could never give Hangman that simple satisfaction, so you shut your mouth.

“This ought to be easy.” He winked at you as he lined up for the first time against you.

You squatted down ever so slightly. You were fast but you weren’t Jake Seresin fast. You needed to take any advantage you have against him. Rooster also had you back against him in case he got by. Not that you were going to let it happen, “Do you ever just keep your mouth shut Bagman?”

“Now you know there’s no fun in that Lav.” That nickname was new from him. You had heard it time and time again from your various classmates and naval aviators throughout the years. But it was new coming from him. You liked the way it sounded more than you wanted to admit.

You hummed admitting he was partially right, “Not everything has to be a game, Jake.” You admitted sincerely, not sure where you wanted the conversation to go.

“Sure, it doesn’t.” He admitted, “But again, no fun in not making everything a game darling.”

He caught the small sigh that escaped your lips, “That sounds exhausting.” You spoke looking down to the ground trying to listen for both Jake and if the balls were being snapped.

He wanted to answer you honestly, it was exhausting for him. But he didn’t know how to turn that side of him off. So, he just let it happen. He knew it was something he needed to work on he just wasn’t so sure he was ready to admit that just yet.

The two of you worked well against one another, to your utter astonishment. You were both able to stop the other often, occasionally letting a good catch or run slip through. The game was utter chaos, yet you and Jake were able to stay in the little bubble the two of you seemed to be in. You didn’t forget the world around you, you both just ignored it and focused on the other.

You about lost it twenty or so minutes in when Jake tore his shirt off and threw it over to the sideline where Penny was sitting. You bit the inside of your mouth to stop the face you were itching to make. You kept your eyes on his not daring to look down at his toned body. You knew you were toast if you looked down, so you opted to look ahead.

You heard Jake laughing before you saw it, “What’s the matter Kazansky? Never seen a shirtless body?” He spoke a little too loudly earning a chuckle from a few other pilots. Embarrassing. You were thankful your cheeks were already rosy from the workout hiding the stupid blush you know adorned your face presently. He really knew what to say to tick the right buttons didn’t he?

“Shut up, Jake.” Was all you could think of quickly before the balls were snapped again giving you a second to regroup.

“That all you’ve got Kazansky?” He egged you on once he blocked the pass that came your way. He was in your head and he knew it. You knew it.

You nodded, truly at a loss for words, “Yeah, you got me.” You admitted, maybe sounding a little too upset in the admission.

You noticed Jake’s features soften a bit. He was itching to reach out to you, to ask you what was wrong. You seemed more than fine a few moments ago. He knew a few silly comments wouldn’t throw you off your game that bad, but they seemed to this afternoon. He decided to back off a bit not wanting to push you too far. He knew you could handle a lot, but he didn’t know your limits. He didn’t want to push you over the edge.

You ran over to the side ignoring Jake’s silent protests. You spotted Yale sitting there taking his break, “Yale! Can you cover me? I need to talk to Mav.” You smiled as sweetly as you could to him.

“Sure Lav.” He laughed taking your spot across from Hangman. You saw Jake watching you frowning when Yale stepped in front of him. You watched him out of your peripherals as you ran over to Mav who was sitting in the distance letting the teamwork out the game on their own. Jake didn’t take his eyes off you until the balls were snapped bringing him back to the present.

“Mav!” You gasped when you finally reached him, the sand decided to humble you a bit leaving you out of breath.

He slid his aviators off raising his brows curiously, “Everything alright, Y/N?”

You took a second to catch your breath, “I need you to have me switch teams.” You clapped your hands expecting him to oblige beginning to walk back to the game.

“No.”

“Great!” You stopped abruptly before turning a little startled by his answer, “Why not?”

“I made the teams purposefully Y/N. I’m not just moving you over. You’ve got to learn to work with what you got.” He looked at you expectantly, waiting for you inevitable rebuttal.

“It’s not that I don’t like my team Mav. They’re all great.” You stopped short not wanting to admit to your almost Uncle why you really wanted to switch teams.

“Then what is it Kazansky?” A small smirk was beginning to underline his features. Did he know? He had to of known. Or else he wouldn’t be doing this to you right now. You paused and thought this over with yourself. On one hand it was just Mav, maybe he knew the right way out of the little predicament you were in. On the other, it was Mav and he’d immediately be calling your dad up. You loved your dad but there were just some things he didn’t need to know while you tried to figure it out.

“I can’t play opposite of Jake.” You admitted softly.

Mav laughed, “I know he’s annoying Y/N. There’s a reason why I put him and you against each other.”

“It’s not that!” You groaned turning away from him. You wicked the sweat off your face with your damp tank top, knowing it wouldn’t be on your body much longer either.

“Then what is it, can’t help if I don’t know Baby Ice.” He full on smirked using your childhood nickname.

You couldn’t stop the eyeroll that already begun when you heard the name baby coming from him, he just loved to get under your skin too, “He’s too distracting Mav.” You gave him a wide-eyed look hoping he’d pick up what you were putting down.

He in fact did not pick up what you were putting down, “Too distracting?”

“Dammit Mav! You’re really going to make me say it.” You sat down next to him on the sand brushing the stray hairs away from your face, “I can’t focus when he has his shirt off. I forgot we were playing a stupid game there for a second.”

Mav’s face finally came to the realization of what you were telling him. His mouth formed a small o as he processed the information, “Jake really?” He laughed waiting for you to join in. When you failed to join him, he realized you were being serious.

“Mav that’s not funny.” You grumbled looking down finding the sand super interesting.

“I thought you detested him.” Mav admitted finally processing what his almost niece was telling him.

“I did! On the first day.” You threw your head back looking to the blue sky that was slowly beginning to turn orange. Cursing the timing of everything. You finally got a huge mission, and a stupid southern boy was going to distract you from it? You weren’t into boys the way your friends were growing up. You were a tomboy through and through and saw most of them as brothers, not lovers. This didn’t end when you graduated high school, college and even all the way through Top Gun. Nobody interested you. Sure, you had a few suitors and you dated sporadically but you never had a tried-and-true boyfriend. Your brother teased you until his face was blue about it sometimes. He had a few long-time girlfriends but none of them ever seemed to work out in the end, your only weapon against him. But that weapon was shattered when his girlfriend of three years accepted his marriage proposal. Not that you minded, you loved his fiancée Marissa and really couldn’t wait for her to marry into the family.

Marissa never gave you a hard time about it. She understood it made sense for you. You had something to prove in your Naval career that would likely get thrown off course with a serious boyfriend. You couldn’t get distracted, your career depended on it. That mindset worked. You were always the young one. You went to the Naval Academy at 17 and graduated by 21. You were invited to Top Gun at 25, the youngest in your class who turned out to be the best in the class, cruising by all the men. You knew you had a lot to prove being the daughter of Admiral Kazansky. It irritated you though that you had to work tirelessly for it while Will seemed to just have it. And now here you were, the youngest at 28. You had really hoped it was all worth it.

Maverick laughing pulled you back out of your mind and into reality, “Does Y/N Kazansky, my own Baby Ice, have a crush?”

If looks could kill Mav knew he’d be dead. He’s not sure he has ever seen such a look on your face before, “Mav keep it down.” You sighed not denying him.

“You didn’t answer my question Y/N.” He sounded a bit more serious this time. He had certainly not picked up on your feelings towards Hangman. He really thought you detested him. You body language made it seem like you really hated the guy, always standing away from him if you could. You snapped at him quite a bit, not ever losing your cool but not acting like that towards anybody else.

You nodded silently, “I do. But you can’t tell dad.”

“You’re taking the fun out of it for me Kazansky.” He sighed leaning back into his chair. He was happy for you although still confused. You really didn’t show any signs of it, maybe he was that oblivious though.

“Mavvvvv.” You sighed just like him dragging his name out like a toddler would.

“Fine. You have my word. I won’t call up Ice. But you’ve got to figure it out for me. I cannot afford to have you distracted kid. Either say something and own up to it or forget about it, alright?”

You gulped and nodded, “Okay. But you’ve got to give me a little time.”

“Sure. But this really is life or death Y/N. I need you here. All of you. 100% of that big ass Kazansky brain that you have. Do you hear me?”

You shook your head up and down hearing him. It frightened you a little bit. You understood how hard this mission was going to be, yet you had the confidence you could do it. You had yet to master the course but you, Phoenix and Bob were the closest group to completing the task yet. Only off by thirty seconds, you knew those thirty seconds were life or death though. Seeing Maverick this serious though threw the gravity of the entire situation right in front of you. A knot formed in your stomach finally understanding this was it, this was a true test of skill. You were picked because you were the best of the best. Maverick needed that Y/N, he was going to get that Y/N.

“I hear you Maverick.” You stood up, ready to rejoin the group.

“Good. And no, you still can’t switch teams.”

“Mav!” You eyed him angrily before returning to the game. Mentally preparing yourself for what Hangman was going to tease you with next.

You knew you couldn’t ignore it anymore when the Dagger Squad met for drinks at the bar and your eyes couldn’t seem to be taken away from the blond man. You now knew you didn’t have a type before you made it to this camp. But now you did. Jake Seresin was your type, just your type. You were entering week three of training, things have kicked up by about a hundred notches. Mav constantly reminding the team that it was life or death, day in and day out. He had to prove to the team it could be done. Boy, did he show off. Doing the whole course in under 2 minutes and 15 seconds.

You learned later that day that he was selected Team Captain. You saw how disappointed Jake was when it was announced. Mav decided to take his time selecting teams. The whole squad was in an all-out Dogfighting war during training, for the next few days at least. You were tired yet you refused to show it, having to prove yourself once again. You could see how exhausted the whole squad was, tonight was needed. Mav gave you the weekend to recover before one last session on Monday where he would announce teams. You were nervous. You had flown the course with a wizzo and without. Proving your capability with both. You desperately wanted to be picked. You were still nervous about the whole situation though, who wouldn’t be? One mistake and you could be dead. No pressure.

Jake noticed your eyes on him. He couldn’t help the smile that slowly spread across his face. He might have managed to crack you, just a bit. He played it cool though. Wanting you to make the first move. He wanted to see if you crack or not. He did want you. He had never been so matched before. He was also sure he would never meet somebody who could put him in his place quite like you did. You beat him more often than not in the air. He was amazed by your flying. Only Mav was able to beat you and even then, you had come close a few times only to be outsmarted by the old-timer. You also challenged him when both feet were on the ground. You didn’t piss him off like most people did when they challenged him, he tried to become better.

He knew he really had liked you when you told Rooster off for the stupid death spiral that he and Maverick were in. You were the only one that was able to get through to Rooster as your words really cut like ice, your dad shining through. He watched curiously as Rooster walked away like a sad puppy, tail tucked between his legs. You, you were fuming. He was sure he hasn’t seen you so mad. You let out the most frustrated groan as you lightly punched the wall. Not stupid like the boys before you who had broken their hands on the cement behind it. He watched as you leaned against the walls collecting yourself. You took a moment before you stood back up fixing your uniform. You turned and spotted Hangman standing there giving him an awkward hello before walking away quickly. Yeah, he liked you. He liked you more than he really cared to admit.

He brought you over your favorite beer on tap sliding it to you as he sat at the high-top opposite you. You smiled thanking him and took a big swig from the glass, “Rough day?” Jake asked eyes softening just slightly.

“Nah, I’m okay.” You spoke, “Just been thinking about the mission, that’s all.”

He bobbed his head seemingly agreeing with you, “Kazansky scared? I’ll be.” He grinned giving you some much needed shit.

“Shut up, Hangman. You know that’s not what I meant.”

He laughed softly nodding in agreement, “I know Y/N. Some serious stuff.”

“You could say that again.” You downed some more of it, nearly finishing the glass in two drinks, “I guess you could say I am a little scared.” You admitted quietly waiting for him to interrupt. When it didn’t come you continued, “I’ve known Mav my entire life and I’ve never seen him like this before Jake.”

“That’s why were here.” He tried to cheer you up.

“I know.” You sighed finishing the beer off. Hangman was impressed, he was only a few drinks in. “It doesn’t make it any less frightening.”

“Shit, Y/N.” He spoke delicately, you traced your eyes up his body to his face wanting to hear what he had to say. He continued when he had your full attention, “You’re on of the best pilots I know. You might be better than me. If you repeat that I will deny it so don’t even try it.” He smirked continuing on, “You were born for this mission. Don’t let Mav freak you out. Go be that confident Lava in the sky, that you can’t be stopped.” He breathed out looking at you happily.

Stunned. You were stunned. And you were a hundred percent your face looked just as stunned as you felt. You were computing his words, yet it didn’t make sense coming from him. Soft Jake? Sweet Jake? You weren’t going to sit here and deny it. Especially because he didn’t give you a chance to respond before he took your glass and told you he was getting you another. He left you with that.

He was showing you a different side of him. You had seen the softened facial expressions and knew when he let up when you two were going at it. But this, this Jake was different. You were sure he was showing his true self to you. He came back and slid the beer over to you like he did the first time, smoother than ever.

“Thanks Jake. For the beer, for everything.” You smiled softly to him. You took your time looking at him curiously, fully drinking him in. Gosh, was he beautiful. He had that damn toothpick in his mouth. You loved that damn toothpick. You loved when he smiled with it too, his dimples always showed when he did. You could hardly take the green eyed, dimpled combination that was in front of you all too often. Mav was right, you needed to tell him, you were struggling keeping this one from him.

“Anything for you Kazansky.” He said without a bit of sarcasm in his voice. A chill ran down your spine, you were sure these physical reactions were going to give you away at any time now. You sat back slightly wondering how in the hell the Hangman had wrapped you so tightly around his finger. You were hooked. Truly hooked on every word he spoke, every look he gave you. How had he done that to you in less than three weeks? You weren’t sure. You didn’t really care either. Your head was already exploding in fear from the mission but with something else entirely when you thought of Hangman, something foreign to you.

“I like soft Jake.” You fluttered your eyes, clueless to the effect you were having on him. He too was utterly fascinated by your presence. He also wasn’t sure what you had done to him. But he sure well knew he would do just about anything for you. He was so drawn to every aspect of you. Your delicate smile you gave everyone and the genuine one you threw his way every now and then. Your calm and collected demeanor in the air, even when Mav beats up on you. Your sweet eyes and all the emotions you tried (but failed) to hide from him. He didn’t really want to wait on you anymore. He just wanted to tell you exactly how he felt so he could hold you, feel you, take you in.

“I like you. You know.” He admitted so nonchalantly you did a double take.

You sucked in a breath so taken aback by his admission to you, “You what?”

“Like you, Kazansky. A lot. I like you a lot. A lot a lot.” He grinned moving himself to the seat next you. He took one of your hands in his, picking your hand up so gently.

“You do?” You whispered, dumbfounded really.

“Don’t act so surprised Y/N. You’re incredible.” He kissed the back of your hand softly. Your heart nearly jumped out of your throat.

“Okay.” You nodded wanting to slap yourself in the face. Okay? Okay, was that all you had? You took a second longer to process what he was really saying, “You like me.”

He laughed scooting even closer, not dropping your hand but squeezing it instead, “I do Kazansky.”

“Well, that’s good.” You gave him that genuine Y/N smile he desired to see once more.

He chuckled inching even closer, your chairs were touching now, “That’s good.” He repeated back to you.

Realizing how dumb you were sounding you continued, “I like you too, Jake.”

He gave you his genuine Jake smile. You could’ve melted right then and there. You had to remind yourself that your fellow classmates were not too far off, “I know.”

You shook your head in response to that cockier than thou attitude, “Course you did.”

He moved his hand to brush some hair out of your face, “It’s nice to hear you say it though, darling.”

You eyed your surroundings, not forgetting where you were. You were going to melt into this man and the wrong person was bound to see. You pulled him out of his chair pointing to the door. He grabbed the beers following you out of the bar as casually as possible. You found a spot on the back patio away from any prying eyes.

“Sorry, it felt… claustrophobic in there.”

He pulled you down, so you were sitting on his lap. You felt so self-conscious when he did so. Your breathing became uneven. He could feel your apprehension. Slower, he noted. He was excited to get to know you better. You were unlike any woman he’s ever met. He didn’t want to screw it up by doing something your uncomfortable.

“I should have asked. I’m sorry Kazansky.” He whispered in your ear trying to make you more comfortable. A full body shiver erupted when he did so. If he noticed he didn’t say anything. He just ran his hands across your back willing you into his embrace.

“S’kay.” You mumbled falling into his touch almost immediately. You relaxed against his chest quickly feeling at home in his arms. You fought to keep your eyes open, but they didn’t want to listen.

You felt him laugh softly as he moved his hands up and down your back. Seeing just how easy it was to get you to relax into him, “It’s only nine sweetheart.” The sun had begun its decent for the evening casting a beautiful array of oranges and pinks into the sky.

“Way past my bedtime.” You mumbled into his chest. You instinctively curled yourself closer into him. You took a long deep breath in smiling as you smelled him. He smelled so good to you, even after a long day he smelled so good, so Jake.

“Let’s get you home then.” Before he could shift you shook your head.

“No, please.” You sighed looking up to him. He was looking at you so lovingly. The droopiest eyes you’ve seen on him yet. It felt like every nerve on you was on fire, not feeling so tired anymore, “Just a few more minutes, you’re so comfy.” You dopily smiled to the lovestruck man holding onto you.

“Like I said earlier, anything for you Kazansky.”

You lit up at him, “Which reminds me, you’re going to have to meet my dad.”

He looked like he lost a shade off his tan as you reminded him. He tried to play it off as nonchalantly as he could, “He’ll love me, promise darling.”

“We’ll see about that Jake.”

“We sure will.” He kissed the top of your head, pulling you closer.

Part 2

2K notes · View notes

satyricplotter · 4 days

Text

pairing: dick grayson x reader

word count: 3.2k (i think?)

warnings: rape mention (as per dick's canon)

notes: i keep thinking of applying one of my favourite manga/manhwa tropes with dick specifically, because it works so well, but i don't particularly care to put in the work of setting up that it'd take for it to land as well as it could. maybe later. as it is, i'll give you the quick rundown because i spent two days writing it lol

something ugly about you has made you undeserving of romance. you have spent your entire life puzzling out what it is and how to fix it. nothing much is special about you: the matter’s far from isolation, or becoming any particular sort of pariah. perhaps that'd be easier to explain. no. people leave you alone, your friends cherish you, your family loves you. it is not that you have not known affection, but that you have and so when you crash against the wall that horrible first time, it hurts all the more.

nothing changes after that. there is always a limit to where your interest can reach, unnamed but palpable. a line you cannot cross. it seems to you as if the entire world has reached a silent consensus during a meeting to which your attendance was not required and your input unnecessary. why would it be? this is not about you. after all, your ability to love has not become impaired. you like people. you’ve fallen in love. but who has ever loved you back?

this one facet of life has been closed off to you entirely, and you’ve been chased away from all attempts to form a romantic bond with unspoken threats of shame and implications of disgust. (a bit much of a display just for the offense of being little old you. you come to regard the matter so as you grow older and start curating some self-respect. it still stings as badly as scrubbing your skin raw under hot water, but not all the loathing is directed inward nowadays.)

regardless, you’ve learnt that you are undesirable, and nothing you can say or do will change that. you must be content with the other shapes that love can take. nothing that you want matters whatsoever.

you meet dick grayson one summer evening under exceedingly normal circumstances. you do not know about heroes or rogues, no batmans or nightwings. the person that crosses the threshold is none other than dick grayson, the handsome young man. suspicion does not cross anybody’s mind, and if it does, it comes only a good couple of thoughts after his darling smile and shapely thighs.

obviously you like him immediately. what’s not to like? he’s gorgeous.

you react to him with the tense wariness of someone hardened by years of useless crushes. trying to avoid him. trying to be normal when you invariably cannot. it’s fine. it’ll be fine.

you still crush on him.

it’s inevitable, at this point. he’s too pretty, too smart, too kind not to draw you in. every interaction comes a rush of exhilarating fear. at times, you manage to subdue yourself into normalcy, hang out with him with as much naturalness as you can muster. but then he does something particularly attractive and you’re back in square one, shoulders drawn together and so short with him he probably gets emotional whiplash. it’s as exhausting for you as it must be for him, and he still reacts to it with grace. it doesn’t help.

through your concerted efforts to be normal, or at least appear as much, you and dick become friends. not great friends, mind you, but good enough that you start hanging out on your own without any of your mutual friends present. and you only spend about three hours total pondering the meaning behind the phrasing of his texts. that’s gotta be some form of progress, right?

he sits at a little table away from the window, and beams when you arrive. coffee’s on him and conversation’s on you. you’ve got more in common than you first thought, but you go back and forth between imagining it must be fate and squashing down delusion, telling yourself you’re blowing it out of proportion.

at one point in time, a beautiful, sultry-looking woman approaches the table.

this sucks, you think, glancing away from dick’s bland mask of politeness. all of it is hopeless and it still sucks.

you and dick tense immediately, like you both know what’s coming. sure as ever, the woman smiles and asks for his number. you look away politely, sip at your drink. the proximity makes it useless to pretend you’re not eavesdropping (though it can hardly be called that when she came to your table), but you take care not to make any faces that’d give away the little storm brewing in your stomach.

you think about running off to the bathroom, get as far as shifting on your seat when dick shoots you a troubled look. the woman’s been at it for a little more than is appropriate. a minute or so more of insistence and she’ll be stretching the boundaries of her own dignity too far. you look away with pressed lips and move your hands under the table.

your alarm beeps.

“oh, shit, dude,” you gasp, hoping to land somewhere in the ballpark of realism. “It’s almost seven. we’ve got to go, or else we’re gonna miss the movie.”

dick gives the woman his apologies and swiftly runs out of the café with you hot on his heels. on the way to the movie theatre, you wanna ask the million questions running through your head—why’d he reject her? didn’t he like her? did he not think she was pretty? who is pretty for him? what’s his taste in partners? is he seeing someone?—but you know it’s a futile endeavor. what will you even get out of that? it’s clear dick didn’t enjoy the interaction either. you make small talk about something else, trying to draw his attention away from whatever conflicted feelings he’s moored in right now. just because you like him doesn’t mean you can’t be a good friend to him.

it’s a short walk. soon enough, he’s all smiles again. in the line for the popcorn stand, another two girls come up to him, this time much younger than you two. he’s nicer with them than he was before, but he rejects them all unequivocally.

“doesn’t it annoy you?” you can’t help but ask. when dick raises an elegant eyebrow, you panic and backpedal so hard you might as well have driven a truck through a storefront.

“a bit,” dick says, ignoring your rambling. you shut your mouth firmly closed when he gives you a sidelong glance, and continues, so very casually, “it’s worse when it comes from a friend rather than a stranger. so many people just try to befriend me because they’re looking for a relationship, or they want access to my body. it’s… tiring. i’m sure you can relate.”

“ah,” you say. your tongue feels numb, but you’re burning up under the weight of his gaze. “no. I don’t really get harassed like that or, um, asked out.”

“huh.” dick blinks. “really?”

“yeah,” you force out. blessedly, the attendant calls your attention. you jostle dick forward. “look, it’s our turn.”

dick orders popcorn. you get a large slushy that you’re not gonna finish. you make him pay. he complies with no question. inside the theatre, you spend all two hours and sixteen minutes of the showing in absolute silence. it is not so strange to be fixated on the movie, but you’re usually a little more chatty. under normal circumstances, you’d eagerly take the opportunity to lean closer to him, whisper something about the main character’s penchant for gummies and its relation to the degradation of the American working class. he’d glance at you and thoughtfully smile, and you’d catch a whiff of his cologne when you straightened. for the rest of the movie, the twinkle of his eye as he forwent the film for your conversation would be all you’d think about.

such is not the case now.

you can tell when you’ve been summarily dismissed. in fact, you appreciate when people are subtle about their rejections. it’s always all the more humiliating when they feel the need to bring it out into the open, like your affections have been so blatant they must be commented on, debated.

the rest of the evening is spent convincing yourself that this is good, that this means it’ll be better for yourself going forward. you’ll be less distracted, if anything. dick’s attempts to discuss the movie with you afterwards fall flat, as the only thing you really want is to get home and stare at your ceiling.

when you’ve reached your apartment door, and are turning to enter after a hurried goodbye, dick calls your name.

“look,” he says, running a hand through his hair unsurely. “I don’t usually do this.”

oh, no. dread fills you up. he’s breaking up with you and you’re not even dating.

you swallow. “dick—”

“I like you a lot,” he interrupts. your teeth clang the way you shut up so fast. in fact, you feel a little dizzy. he continues before you can even process that first sentence. “I think you and I could be really good friends, and I’d love if we could continue seeing each other to, you know, hang out and talk. I do truly appreciate your insight. is that okay?”

you blink fast some three or four times. it must be comical, the face you’re making, because the corner of dick’s lips pulls upward despite him trying to keep a serious air.

“I thought we were already friends…?” you say, at a loss for anything else to say.

“yes!” he beams. “we are.”

“okay,” you respond, perplexed. this is so far out of left field. “um. text me when you’re home?”

“yeah.” he grins. gorgeous grin, to be sure, but why? “for sure.”

“cool.” you give him an awkward thumbs up and scurry inside.

it is… baffling. you spend all of that night wide awake and pondering. dick must’ve misconstrued something, or either you missed a crucial step in your relationship. otherwise the end to that evening makes absolutely no sense. the only thing you can conjure up is that dick must reject a lot of people who, like he said, try to befriend him only to get with him or worse, only to fuck, and it’s not very likely most of those people stay in his life once it is clear he won’t budge on the matter. the fact that you didn’t immediately turn your back on him must’ve come to him as a pleasant surprise.

it’s sad. like, really fucking sad, actually.

that very sadness—and the memory of his handsome, bright grin—turns your outlook inside out. why do you like dick? clearly he’s got the looks and the personality, but do you really know him? what do you know of him? you make a list of things you’ve learned about him in the short time of knowing him. it’s not long.

you come to the conclusion, mortifyingly so, that you don’t, in fact, like dick grayson. that, if anything, the only thing you like is the idea of the boyfriend he could be, which is not the boyfriend that he is (you know nothing about that). it’s the social acumen inherent in bagging such a hottie, and the sparkling sexual attraction bound around it, that really prompt your crushing. it’s not dick as a person. frankly, you think, a little hysterically, could be anyone, really. didn’t even have to be dick. he was just there, the handsomest person in the room. an apt target for the voracious hunger of your heart. you’d mooned and mooned over him for ages and it turns out it wasn’t even about him.

god, you’re such an asshole.

in penance, you endeavor to actually get to know dick without the embarrassment of a crush between you. and it does, in fact, help. dick’s eager to get to know you too, now that you’ve both formally acknowledged you’re friends (such a weird practice, fresh out of kindergarten behavior, but, as you soon find out, dick is weird about plenty and not entirely well-adjusted as an adult). you go on outings together, attend one another’s events, text sporadically throughout the day. you learn which video games dick likes, you tell him which movies are your favorites. it’s fun and light and uncomplicated now that you’ve freed yourself from the constraints of romantic expectation.

not everything’s good. dick’s got bad habits, which grate on you. is it so difficult to put the stupid toilet seat down? can he not learn to chop vegetables in chunks smaller than an elephant’s baby teeth? can he, for the love of god, stop yelling at the tv during horror films? he’s got some serious character flaws, too. you find about those a lot more slowly, but they don’t cause too much trouble.

you fight one or two times due to dick suddenly abandoning you in the middle of an outing with no regard for your safety, and his tendency to get pissy instead of saying whatever’s upsetting him upfront when he knows, you’ve warned him that you’re stupidly thoughtless about your actions at times. all those are things you wouldn’t have come to experience if you hadn’t given the man a chance to actually be a friend. it’s kind of heartening, actually, to have come so far.

sometimes your crush rears up its head in the middle of nowhere. it’s kind of hopeless by now, but you can’t help the fact that dick’s attractive. neither can he, anyway. you just watch him sometimes, the way the sun hits his eyes, lashes sweeping over his cheeks. it makes you go tongue-tied and silly, but the moment always passes. it has to pass. you struggle against it, recall every time dick has upset you or insulted you in one way or the other. some days it’s easy as buttering toast, others you can barely think around the searing heat of your desire. those are bad days for all involved.

one evening, when you’ve grown close enough you’ve begun to think about dick grayson as maybe, possibly, only-if-he-says-so-too your closest friend, he tells you about catalina.

he does it over the phone line, during your almost-nightly calls. over the months, you’ve taken up the practice of teasing him about handsome people he clearly finds attractive in a desperate bid to divert attention and train yourself for when you have to do it for real. this is not one of such cases, and as soon as you realize this, you sober up immediately.

he says it so simply. talks about it like it’s just a hazard of life. there’s a tight hardness at the edge of his voice, but other than that, he speaks like it’s normal Tuesday for him.

not so much for you.

“is it okay if I come over?” you request over the line.

for a moment, the only thing you hear is dick breathe. “yeah,” he croaks, and you’re bolting out the room immediately.

you don’t know how to react to this other than with a shaky sort of desperation. it’s been years since it happened. there’s nothing you can do about it now. there’s something big he’s leaving out, which you notice but don’t point out. a big lump forms on your throat as he speaks. dick tells you when you arrive that the woman is behind bars for an unrelated crime and the only way you stop yourself from wishing ill on her out loud is the fact he looks so politely disjointed, you know your fury will only startle him.

and you feel it so frightfully, the fury.

you love dick, you realize. beyond the fancies and the underlying attraction, you love dick as a person, as a friend. he’s one of yours now.

the evening morphs into a casual sleepover. you don’t interrogate him, and he seems torn between wanting to say more and grateful you’re not prying. you keep yourself open to the possibility, but also try to comfort him as best you can. you make dinner. you put on a movie. you talk and joke and quietly watch. he invites you on the bed with him because his couch is a nightmare to sleep in and his guest room is “unavailable”, whatever that means. you don’t even think about it, just follow.

lying together under the sheets with the lights off, the rest of your feelings bubble up to the surface.

you ask before you clasp his hands between yours and look into his shiny eyes in the darkness. you try to tell him, how this single evening and all those that came before turned over your loyalty to him. how he can come to you for anything he ever wants or needs—your ear, your care, your protection. how much you appreciate his trust and how much you wish you could make anything, everything better for him. how much he deserves it.

“I’ll never leave you now,” you vow with fierce conviction, searching his eyes for any signs of doubt. any other time you would’ve questioned this statement with the sheer weight of infinite possibilities, but not now. tonight, truth is absolute and in your hand. “they will never take me from you. I will always be on your side, by your side. i’m serious, grayson. you’re not getting rid of me.”

a glimpse of a watery smile is the only thing you see before dick throws his arms around you and buries his face in your neck. “couldn’t dream of it,” he whispers into your hair.

you hug him back as tightly as he is, murmuring platitudes and running your fingers through his hair. he falls asleep like that, in the cradle of your arms. he feels secure enough to do so, and you feel both proud and nauseous about it considering the secret you keep.

that he’s told you this at all, that he’s trusted you with such a thing—you know how big it is. you know you can never betray him.

you consider your inherent monstrosity, that little unspeakable thing that bars your from that special kind of love. you understand, firmly, that any desire you feel will never be received eagerly and joyfully. not by him or anyone else. in silent fury, you vow to die before you be like her, to bestow upon this man your grotesque wanting with no regard for his own desire, for the integrity of his being.

that night, you press a kiss to dick grayson’s hair and let him go forever.

the next morning, dick watches as you leave. you turn back one last time to wave at him from the parking lot, a bright smile and tussled hair you didn’t bother to brush. you wear out the clothes he lent you to sleep, so harried last night in your haste to come over that you’d simply forgotten to pack pajamas. he suspects you hadn’t planned to stay the night at all, but he’d been damned if he’d let you go yesterday.

you’re pretty. he’s always thought so, but this morning, you’re prettier than ever. it’s the radiance of your heart shining through.

I will always be by your side, you’d said last night. you’d meant it completely, then. dick had been dazed, overcome. he couldn’t take the brightness of your eyes, the surety of your affection. he’d buried his head in your neck and fallen asleep breathing in the smell of your shampoo. in the morning, he’d woken up with your fingers carding through his hair and the gentle warmth of your body against his.

that was nice. he wonders what he has to do to make it happen again.

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #dc imagine #nightwing x reader #nightwing x you #not that the night life features as anything other than a mention #anyway for those in the know.... this is the chundan 'i like you because you don't have expectations of me'/'im never gonna like ycy' scene #except set up a little differently given there's no isekai happening here #satplotdb

180 notes · View notes

ihavemanyhusbands · 1 year

Text

He Who Hunts These Woods

Will Graham x Fem!Reader

Also on AO3

Summary: You and Will decide to get a little experimental, and he chases you through the woods surrounding his cabin.

WC: 2.4k words

Warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY), Primal play, predator/prey, cnc-ish, cursing, some knifeplay, p in v, biting, fingering, unprotected sex (don't try at home), DARK stuff ig, lmk if anything else!

Special tag for @glitchedpup :> mwahaha

-----

A sudden noise made you stop in your tracks, clicking your flashlight off. You listened for a few heartbeats, head cocked to the side like an animal’s.

Your breath was deep but labored as you tried to stifle the panic running hot throughout your body. You knew you were being followed, but that certainly did nothing to soothe you.

The forest's darkness was almost impenetrable, like a living entity. Every cracking branch or rustling foliage made you jump, your heart rate skyrocketing each time. You weren’t sure how long you had been at this, time seemingly inexistent in this place. Especially when adrenaline had a firm grip on you, waxing and waning like liquid flame in your veins.

Though you considered yourself to be pretty open-minded, a part of you was beginning to regret agreeing to this. Mostly because you were getting tired and antsy, half wishing you’d opted to ride him on the couch back at his cabin, instead of running around.

But there was something about the fear, the anticipation, that wasn’t entirely torturous. Especially since you were well aware of who was hunting you.

Will had been kind enough to give you a head start at the beginning of all this. He knew these woods like the back of his hand, so he definitely could find you with ease. But where was the excitement in that?

This was precisely how he wanted you, vulnerable and hyperaware, completely at his mercy. All you had to do was surrender to your fate… Which you knew you would, but not just yet. This thrill – this cursed amalgamation of agony and ecstasy – made you feel more alive than ever before. And you were greedy, yes, for you wanted to feel this way as long as you could.

When the coast seemed to be clear, you clicked your flashlight back on, if only to gather your bearings. You had to be pretty sparse with it, given that you’d be much easier to spot if you left it on at all times. There’d been a couple of moments where you felt you were being watched, the heavy gaze like a smoldering caress on your skin.

You were lucky that Will was such a patient man, laser-focused in his pursuit of something he wanted. He was the perfect hunter, relentless, cunning, hungry. You thought of his teeth on your neck, his tongue right on your frantic pulse. Might he be merciful and swift? Or would he savor it, biding his time?

You shivered at the possibilities, goosebumps running down your arms. This was the kind of play that you two had been floating back and forth for some time. It was interesting – but sort of odd – in theory, but it was an awakening in practice. It let Will fully be himself, holding nothing back from you; The man Hannibal helped set free.

The two of you had discussed boundaries and safewords beforehand, but you trusted him fully. If it were with anybody else – except for Hannibal, of course – you would never have agreed to go through with it at all.

You moved hastily but carefully, keeping your arms out to keep yourself from running into things. Amidst the trees, he watched you stumble about, smirking to himself. He was hot on your heels, had been for a while now, but not yet he told himself.

A myriad of thoughts ran through Will’s mind – how he wanted to taste you, what sounds he wanted to elicit from you, the feel of the firm press of his body against yours. He felt like a madman when it came to you; A hunger that could never be sated.

He was more than fine with sharing you with Hannibal – you were both of theirs, after all – but he cherished these moments in which he had you all to himself. You saw him for who he was, too, and you embraced him. He never felt like he was being judged or that he had to hide from you.

He continued trailing you down to a small stream, the soft gurgling of the water filling your ears. You squatted near the edge, needing a break – and perhaps rending yourself totally vulnerable.

You splashed some water on your face, washing off the thin sheen of sweat that dotted your brow and the bridge of your nose. A figure of pure darkness emerged soundlessly from the trees behind you. An awareness spread throughout your body in the shape of goosebumps, and you suppressed a shiver.

“What do we have here?” Will’s voice was like smoke and velvet, a blessing and a curse all at once.

You stiffened, trying not to jump out of your own skin. Your heart was jackhammering against your ribcage painfully, and you knew you had only a few precious seconds to react. It was up to you how the rest of this night would unfold, after all.

You heard the crunch of leaves as he took a step closer, and that made you spring into action. You ran, legs pumping as hard as they could, muscles burning. Dodging obstacles was much harder, especially when you could barely even focus on where you stepped. You heard him chasing after you, getting closer and closer and closer. You whimpered, near delirious with the adrenaline.

Then, your foot caught on an overgrown branch and you stumbled, the world blurring at the edges. You threw your arms out, bracing against a tree to break your fall. You were panting heavily, your head spinning, and Will stopped mere inches away from you. Of course, you’d never be able to escape him, he was much faster than you. He clicked his tongue, barely breathing hard from the run.

“It must not be your lucky day,” he said. “But it certainly is mine.”

“Please.” You breathed, falling easily into the role of prey.

You felt his warmth at your back as he stepped even closer, and you resisted the urge to push your ass back against him, wanting to see what he would do first.

“What is it, darling?” he purred, tucking an errant strand of your hair behind your ear. “Don’t tell me you’re scared.”

You wanted to shake your head, to try to be defiant, but there was something about his demeanor that gave you pause. Instead, all you could say was, “Have mercy.”

He chuckled darkly, and you felt his breath against your neck. “And if I don’t? What will you do, hmm?”

That was when you did fight back, jerking against him. He was momentarily taken aback, and you’d barely managed to escape his grasp before he roughly pulled you back to him. The two of you wrestled for dominance as his arms snaked around you tightly.

“Oh yeah? You want to play rough?” He snarled, one of his hands going to your neck, pinning you further. “I’ll show you rough.”

You thrashed and attempted to kick, but your strength was quickly waning. It was no use; He was much stronger than you as well. Did you even have another choice but to give in?

It was already hard not to, seeing how your body reacted to him. You felt so close to igniting– him being the flame to your kerosene. He knew this too, and he planned to use it in his favor.

Will began tearing at your t-shirt, ripping it apart with frantic hands. When he brought out his hunting knife, you stopped moving, watching instead as he sawed at your bra. Both garments fell to the ground unceremoniously, and the crisp night air nipped at your exposed flesh, making you shiver.

“You knew what would happen when I caught you, didn’t you?” He taunted, holding his knife over your neck – lightly of course, but just enough to make things interesting – and groping your breasts roughly. When he pinched one of your aching nipples, you couldn’t help the loud mewl that escaped your lips. “Or did you think you could outsmart me? Surely, you’re not that naïve.”

“I lasted… a while… did I not?” You said slowly, faking bravado despite the fact you were afraid the blade might nick your throat.

He chuckled once more, amused at your stubbornness. “Oh, we’ll see just how long you’ll last now.”

He withdrew the knife and wrestled you to the ground, even as you tried hard to keep your footing. His knee connected with the back of yours, and you fell forward on all fours, the breath momentarily knocked out of you. But you still had some fight in you, so you tried to scramble forward, but he was on you in a flash, pinning your legs between his.

“Please…” You rasped, nails scratching at the dirt. “Let me go.”

“Never,” He growled, leaning forward and biting your shoulder hard enough to make you cry out. “You’re fucking mine, do you understand!? You belong to me.”

There was a desperate heat pooling in your lower abdomen, and you squirmed pathetically against his firm grip. He licked at your shoulder, chasing away the sting, before moving to rake his teeth once more against the side of your throat. Your eyes screwed shut, and you held your breath to keep yourself from moaning.

“Say it,” he breathed in your ear, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips, sure to leave bruises. “Say you’re mine.”

“Y-yours…” You whispered, barely able to find your voice.

“What’s that? I can’t hear you,” He urged, pulling you back and grinding his clothed erection against you. “Louder.”

You hesitated, debating whether to continue being a little bratty. But before you could decide, Will yanked your pants and underwear down in one rough, quick motion– fully baring you to the night. The next moment, his hand came down on your ass once, twice, three times, the strikes swift but savage. You shrieked with each one, but despite the pain, you found yourself clenching around nothing.

“I’m yours!” You cried out. “All yours.”

“There’s a good girl. Scream all you want, sweetness, no one’s around to hear it.” He cooed, cruelly saccharine. “And now, I’m going to claim what’s mine.”

He pushed your head to the ground, keeping it there with one hand. Your cheek was pressed against a bed of damp leaves, back not so gracefully arched and ass still in the air. You heard the clink of his belt being undone, and the rustle of clothes as he pushed down his own pants.

Then his fingers went to your pussy, spreading it for his own appraisal. You could hear the lewd sounds of your arousal as he continued exploring, circling your clit torturously slow – Just the way you liked to be teased. Involuntarily, you pushed your hips back, seeking more friction. He tsked in disapproval, withdrawing his fingers a little.

“Eager thing. Does the idea of me claiming you excite you?” He said.

Your body tensed as two of his fingers sank into the molten heat of your cunt, and he hummed in utter delight. “My, my…And you’re absolutely soaked. I thought you wanted me to let you go?”

Your face and neck flushed deeply with shame. Of course, you wanted him – my God, you were absolutely ravenous for him – but he seemed to be using this desire against you. To show you just how easily he could get you to yield.

He pumped his fingers in and out of you, but just when he was getting to a steady rhythm, he pulled them out. You grit your teeth in frustration, but did not make a sound beyond your hissing breath.

“You know what I think? I think you never wanted mercy at all. You wanted to be ravaged,” he said, shifting his body to line the head of his cock with your entrance, barely pushing in. “And I’m more than happy to oblige.”

Without warning, Will fully slammed into you, your body rocking forward.

“Oh fuck!” You wailed, attempting to brace yourself, an electric jolt racing through your veins.

“Keep your head down.” He growled, his hands gripping your hips once more.

His strokes were hard and fast– perhaps punishing you for running away. His hips slapped against yours loudly, your unrestrained moans fueling him on. He felt impossibly deep at that angle, like he was literally rearranging your insides, leaving his imprint on you.

“Oh, you take me so well, don’t you?” He praised, and you felt pride swell in your chest. “Say it again: Who do you belong to?”

“I-I’m yours!” You managed between whimpers. “All yours!”

He momentarily stopped only to pull you up, your back pressed against his chest. One of his hands trailed up your front, pawing at one of your breasts, while the other snaked down to your clit. His relentless rhythm resumed soon enough, deft fingers stroking your clit up and down, up and down. Your back arched, eyes rolling to the back of your head, but he held you close.

He nibbled on your earlobe, and you were putty in his hands. Your cunt was clenching him hard, and he knew you were right there. “That’s it, good girl. Come all over my cock.”

And as he shifted his hips slightly, you tumbled into oblivion, nothing existing outside of the rolling waves of pleasure washing over you. Your mind went fully blank for a moment, your body’s singing overpowering it. His name left your lips like a prayer for salvation, over and over again – Will, Will, Will….

Not a moment later, you heard his growl in your ear, felt the heat that suddenly flooded your cunt. Once more, he branded you, his essence entwining with yours. Once more he made sure that you understood that nobody – except maybe Hannibal – could give you such pleasure, such sweet agony. Not that you needed convincing, but you weren’t about to refuse it either.

The two of you were breathing hard as you came down from your mind-numbing orgasms. Immediately, Will regained himself, and he set out to comfort you. He kissed your shoulders, your neck, your temple, making sure you understood how much you meant to him.

“Was I too rough?” He asked, stroking your arms soothingly as he unsheathed himself from you, leaving you achingly empty.

He took his jacket off, draping it over your shoulders, and pulled you back into a comfortable embrace. Nothing had ever felt more like home – the scent of his sweat-slick skin, musky and earthy, the fit of his frame around yours. It was almost narcotic, the way he made you feel.

There’s nothing you wouldn’t do for him.

“No, my love,” You sighed dreamily, nuzzling him, and kissing his jaw. “You were absolutely perfect.”

And no words had ever rang more true.

---------

#hanninbal #will graham #will graham x fem!reader #will graham x reader #will graham fanfiction #hannibal fanfiction #will graham smut #minors dni

1K notes · View notes

bachiras-toaster · 1 month

Text

bachira loves his girlfriend : ̗̀➛

MEGURU BACHIRA x f!reader

content. like one suggestive comment

Even when away from you during his time at Blue Lock, Bachira can’t help but drone on and on about you. Since he had first entered the building, he would talk people’s ears off about you and would yap to anybody who would listen. It didn’t matter if it was to people he considered his friends or people he had just met; if he wasn’t sleeping, he was talking about his lovely girlfriend.

When at lunch, he’d pick at his food with a deep frown, sighing heavily as he prodded at the sloppy meal with his fork, only to drag it up to his saddened gaze.

“If my girlfriend was with me, she would never let me eat this. She always makes the best meals for me!”

His comments would always cause the rest of the people at the table to twitch their eyes as they wondered when enough was going to be enough for him. They’d all side-eye begrudgingly as Bachira forced himself to chew at the food that wasn’t made with the kind of love you made food.

And even at times he was supposed to be serious, he couldn’t help but casually let slip his thoughts of you into his words. The last time he was on the field, he had a hungry look in his eyes as his gaze chased the ball, flashing an inhumane glare towards his opponent with a sick and twisted smile.

“Don’t hog the ball, alright? Throw me a bone and let me score a goal. I wanna win points for a day pass to visit my girlfriend!~”

And even when making it back to the locker room, his words did not cease.

“Ugh, so close!” Bachira stepped into the room stretching. A disappointed look was plastered onto his face upon realising that he hadn’t gotten any goals that match. “We won, but I didn’t get to score a single goal. No points for me… Man, I’m so close to getting enough points to be able to trade it in for a day pass!” He frowned as he turned towards his locker. “I was really hoping that this weekend would be the time I would finally get to see her!—“

“Oh, shut up about that stupid girlfriend of yours!” Raichi’s voice snapped as he suddenly appeared in front of Bachira to slam his locker shut. “It’s always this and that about her! When are you going to take a hint that no one cares?!”

Bachira went silent for a moment, and his eyes widened— Though it was unsure of whether this was due to confusion or rage.

“…What did you just call my girlfriend?—“

“Get a grip! You can’t be talking about her all the time! We get it! You wanna see her! I’ve never heard you say a single sentence without the word ‘girlfriend’ in it!” Raichi yelled, however it only caused Bachira to give him a seemingly innocent expression.

“…If she was your girlfriend, you’d wanna talk about her all the time too.” He beamed with a childish smile, before allowing it to form into a darkened grin. “Be glad wanting to see her is the only thing I’m talking about.” He quickly leaned up, causing Raichi to back away a little when he saw how close his eerie smile was getting to him. Bachira faced his palms towards his chest and made a squeezing motion as his expression became more unhinged. “After all, there’s more that I miss about her than her food and company, you know. But you don’t wanna hear about that, do you?”

“O-Obviously not…” His muttered, face flushing as he looked away.

“Exactly!” Bachira smiled, backing away again, although still maintaining that creepy look in his eyes. “So next game, pass the ball to me when you can.”

#blue lock x reader #blue lock #bachira meguru x reader #bachira meguru #blue lock meguru bachira #meguru smut #bachira x reader #bllk bachira #blue lock bachira #bachira x you #bachira x y/n #bachira fluff

296 notes · View notes

froggibus · 11 months

Text

The Death of Peace of Mind - Stu Macher! Ghostface

Pairing: Stu Macher! Ghostface x f! reader (reader uses female/she/her pronouns + has a pussy), Billy Loomis! Ghostface x f! reader (at the end), Billy Loomis x Stu Macher

Genre: smut/NSFW

Word Count: 2k

Summary: after finding out your boyfriend is the masked killer who’s been plaguing Woodsboro, you only have one request—you want him to take out his darkest urges on you

CW: Dark content ahead!!! dubcon, knife play, blood play, bondage (use of handcuffs and blindfolds), Stu cuts reader, bloodloss, oral (f! receiving), unprotected sex (yk what im gonna say), creampie, Stu chases you with a knife, exhibitionism/voyeurism, mentions of a threesome, overstimulation, multiple orgasms

incredibly self indulgent fic of my favorite Ghostface & the idea of being railed by him <3 this is a bit darker than what I normally write lol, also very tempted to write about getting railed by both Billy & Stu now

update ish? self indulgent part 2 w both Stu and Billy here

————

The minute the phone rings, the blood rushes to your ears. The entire town of Woodsboro had been warned against answering calls from unknown numbers after what happened to Casey and Steve. You weren’t worried, though.

Why fear the boogeyman when the boogeyman is the only person who makes you feel safe?

Stu always insisted on never letting you see the darker parts of him, on never sharing the weirder things he was interested in. He wanted to protect you from himself and the fucked up things he wanted to do to you. That all changed this morning when you stopped by his house to make sure he was awake in time for school, and saw the Ghostface mask in his closet.

You had grabbed it and tossed it at him, forcing him to explain himself.

The boy had stuttered over his words before he finally confessed: he was the one who had been killing people all around Woodsboro. Even more surprising than that was that he had a partner. Everyone, even the police, had only suspected one person was doing it.

He mumbled countless apologies, begging you not to leave him and begging you not to tell anybody or else ‘he’ would be mad. In all of his grovelling, though, he never mentioned who his partner was.

You cut him off. “Is this the dark stuff you didn’t want me to know about?”

He nodded slowly, tips of his ears burning red.

“Stu, I’m not going to tell anyone,” his head snaps up at your words, eyes lighting up. “But I have one condition.”

“Anything.”

You take a deep breath, biting your lip. “I want you to lose control. Do whatever you want to me, just let go. Don’t worry about whether I like it or not…just, show me those parts of you.”

“Y/n…”

“I mean it, Stu. Please?”

He’s reluctant to give in. He knows he would never hurt you, at least not severely, but the thought of showing you who he really is and what he wants to do makes him shiver. He doesn’t want you to stop looking at him like you do now.

Still, he gives in. He tells you to go home and relax, and maybe stock up on first aid supplies.

The thought of what he’s going to do to you fills you with excitement.

And now you’re sitting next to the ringing phone, knowing when you answer it that things will never be the same.

You press the phone to the side of your face, the cold buttons raising goosebumps on your skin. “Hello?”

“Hello, y/n.” The voice on the other end is deep and raspy, so masculine it has you clenching your thighs together.

“Who is this?”

Stu can’t help but smirk on the other end of the line. You’re playing the part of the innocent, dumb victim perfectly, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t turn him on. God, the things he wants to do to you.

“You tell me your name, I’ll tell you mine,” he responds.

“I don’t think so.”

You lay down on your back on the couch, playing with your hair, with the collar of your shirt, anything to keep you focused on the man talking in your ear.

“Come on,” he almost growls, “why don’t you tell me your name?”

You can’t help but giggle at the frustration in his voice. “Why do you want to know?”

“Because I want to know who I’m looking at.”

You suck in a breath. Smooth, you think. If you were anyone else, if you actually thought there was a chance he would kill you, his words would make you freeze. But tonight, all they did was make you shiver in anticipation.

You can feel your underwear soaking through with your arousal, your whole body warming. “L-looking at?”

Stu almost laughs at the way you nervously stutter. You sound so cute, so innocent…he really can’t wait to ruin you. He stifles his laughter from inside the closet.

“You heard me,” he says. “Don’t you want to know where I’m hiding?”

“You’re…you’re inside?”

A wave of fear washes over you. How had he gotten inside without you noticing? Is this how he had gotten to Casey, too? You hate how much it turns you on to think that he’s been here the whole time.

“Take a guess, come find me.”

Stu watches through the crack in the door as you stand from the couch with that puzzled look on your face. You spin around, the phone still pressed to your ear.

“What happens if I find you?”

Stu stays silent for a minute, watching you look around the living room to find him. Just as you get to the closet, your palm resting on the handle, he responds.

“I get to see what your insides look like.”

He pushes the closet door open and shoves you against the wall. You squeak, letting the phone clatter to the ground. Stu grabs your wrists in one of his hands and pins them above your head.

His other hand reaches for the knife in his waistband, holding up at eye level so you can see it. Your heart speeds up, your arms shake, your knees threaten to buckle.

He presses the knife at the centre of your collarbone, just above where your t-shirt begins. You can feel the sharp tip press into your skin, just enough to cause a bead of blood to roll down your chest.

“The things I’m going to do to you,” he breathes.

You almost call his name, but you know he’s not your boyfriend right now. You know he needs to let go, and part of that is to let go of himself, too.

He drags the knife down, cutting into the fabric of your t-shirt. He applies just enough pressure to easily slide the fabric, but not enough to actually hurt you. Still, you can feel the cool metal on your bare skin and it causes you to whimper.

Stu groans. You’re being so good for him, standing so still and just letting him do what he needs to do. He digs the knife into the soft fabric of your shorts, taking his time in slicing them down the middle.

Both pieces of fabric fall to the floor, leaving you in just your underwear in front of him. “I-I—” you’re not sure what you’re trying to say, but the words won’t come out regardless.

“I-I-I,” he mocks, holding the blade against your throat. “I’m gonna fucking ruin you.”

You whimper and kick against him, your knee grinding against the bulge in his robe. He drags the knife just above your collarbone. He presses in hard, hard enough to draw blood.

The warm blood leaks down your chest, dripping down your stomach and your underwear. The slight sting makes you whine even more and rub your thighs together.

He releases your hands. “Run,” he whispers.

You don’t waste a second in obeying him. As soon as your feet are on the ground, you’re tearing away from him. You can hear him walking at a leisurely pace behind you, laughing mockingly. Something about him chasing you, cutting you…it’s overwhelming, it makes your head fuzzy with pleasure.

You run up the stairs, turning away as soon as your feet meet the plush carpet of the landing. You turn around, only to see that he’s gone. You suck in a breath. Where could he have gone?

Arms wrap around your waist, a knife pressed into your side. “Got you.”

You squeal, kicking against him. He’s much stronger than you, though. He pushes you against the wall, using it as leverage to lift you up.

You wrap your legs around his waist and let him carry you to your bedroom. He tosses you onto the bed, slamming the door behind him. You squirm, your sheets staining with the blood that dripped down your body while you ran.

You look up at him with those damned eyes, blinking slowly. His robe is stained with your blood, the knife in his hand slick with the red.

He crawls on top of you, yanking your underwear off and tossing them into the corner of the room. Your pussy is soaked as it is, but your blood has started to run into the juices, and the smell is fucking intoxicating.

He moves his face between your legs, the white mask looking up at you. You whimper and roll your hips against his face, staining the white with your red.

He tears off a strip of fabric from his robe and ties it around your eyes. “No looking,” he orders.

He tilts the mask up just enough so that his mouth and nose are out before licking up the blood from your thighs. You taste just as good as you smell, and it only makes him want more. He flicks his tongue across your opening and you whine, bucking your hips against his face.

He goes to work licking and sucking at your clit. He’s drunk from the taste of you, and all he wants is more. He presses the knife against your thigh, digging it in hard enough to draw blood. The pain in your thigh mixed with the pleasure in your core has you crying out, forcing you over the edge.

You finish hard, your slick coating his mouth and nose. He doesn’t stop, though. He keeps eating you out like you’re his last meal.

“P-please,” you whine.

“Please what?”

“Stretch me out, ruin me, just…please?”

Your breathless begging is so fucking cute that he can’t hold back anymore. He pulls the mask over his face again, laying on top of you. He pulls out a pair of plain metal handcuffs, and gets to work securing them around your wrists. He does it tightly enough that it digs into the skin and makes it impossible to escape, but not tight enough to be painful.

You struggle against the restraints, unable to see or feel him now. He shuffles against you awkwardly, pulling his cock out of his pants. He’s already rock hard, the tip coated in precum.

He lines up the head at your entrance and shoves his way inside. He’s so perfectly sized, always stretching you out perfectly. You whine, instinctively going to reach out for him before remembering the restraints on your wrists.

His thrusts are desperate and needy. All he wants, all he needs, is to bury himself inside of you. To fuck you like he needs to and absolutely ruin you.

“F-fuck,” you stutter out, forcing your hips against his to meet his thrusts.

His hands grip your waist tightly, his mouth hovering over your pulse point. He licks up the remaining blood from the cut on your collarbone, and the copper taste on his tongue only drives him to fuck you harder.

The way you're so wet for him, just from him cutting and fucking you. Hovering above you, fucking you like it's the last time, he's never felt more content. It's like the darkest parts in you pacify the darkest parts in him, and that's all he's ever needed.

You can feel yourself getting close, your muscles contracting with every deep thrust. You feel slightly lightheaded, but you’re not sure if it’s from your last orgasm or the blood loss.

Stu holds you closer, his body collapsing onto yours as his thrusts get sloppier. You know he won’t last much longer, either.

You squirm, bucking your hips to try and get him as deep as possible. He hits that sweet spot one more time and you come undone, your muscles spasming around him. Your pussy clenches around his cock and that’s all he needs to spill hot cum deep inside of you.

Your head rolls back, your body going limp. Stu pulls out, kneeling on top of you. “Think you can go another round?”

“C-can you?” You breathe heavily.

He reaches his hands around the back of your head to remove the blindfold. It takes a minute for your eyes to focus, fixating on the masked man above you.

“Not me,” he grabs your jaw in his hand and turns your head to the corner, where a man in an identical costume stands. “Him.”

“Him?”

The masked man steps forwards, slowly pulling the mask from his face. Billy Loomis is smiling at you like the devil, “hello, y/n.”

He pulls the mask back on, coming to rest on the bed next to Stu. Both of the Ghostface killers have their eyes fixated on your bound, writhing form on the bed.

“I think she can do one more,” Stu says.

“I think so too. I think she could take both of us.”

“B-both of you?”

Neither boy acknowledges you, too busy talking as if you’re not laying right in front of them. God, they’re going to be the death of you.

#ghostface x you #ghostface #ghostface smut #ghostface x reader #ghostface x female reader #stu macher ghostface #billy loomis #stu macher #stu macher x female reader #stu macher x you #stu macher x reader #Billy loomis ghostface #Billy Loomis x reader #scream x reader #scream smut #scream x you #scream #x you #x reader

968 notes · View notes

angelwonie · 2 years

Text

LIKE YOU || choi yeonjun

PAIRING: fuckboy!yeonjun x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 16.4k

GENRE(S): smut, fluff, slowburn, college!au

SUMMARY: when your school’s infamous fuckboy, choi yeonjun, sets his eyes in you, he's determined in his mission to make you his. only the task turns out harder than he'd initially expected.

WARNINGS: smut [unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), praise, overstimulation, slight corruption kink], consumption of alcohol, smoking, yeonjun is a menace and a flirt

Choi Yeonjun didn’t mean to fall in love with you.

Really, he didn’t. He didn’t plan on falling in love with anybody, actually. He just wasn’t the type of guy to chase after one girl, especially one who showed no initial interest in him.

Until you came along, that is.

—

“Gosh, did you really break up with her? And here I was, thinking this one would actually last longer than two weeks.”

Yeonjun only rolls his eyes in response to his friend’s nagging, his back resting against the cold stonewall of the school as his shoes sink into the soft grass surrounding them. It's the place he, Soobin and Taehyun go to complain about homework, classmates, or in his case, girls, and it was carefully chosen by them so as not to catch the attention of any annoyingly nosy teachers. It is also the place he usually brings girls to make out with – at least those he won’t even bother taking out on a date since they’re way too boring. Most people would be surprised to know just how many girls aren't worth knowing.

He sighs deeply, fidgeting a little with the hem of his ripped jeans before fetching a pack of cigarettes from the pocket. His eyes scan the area subconsciously, not searching for anyone in particular but looking for anything interesting to latch onto. “Oh, quit complaining, Soobin. Why do you care, anyway? It’s not like she was your girlfriend.”

‘Girlfriend’ is a bit too much of an exaggeration, even he has to admit – all that girl ever was to him was a quick fuck. Not that it matters. It doesn’t exactly occupy his thoughts whether she’s taking their ‘breakup’ well or not. He sighs, tearing his gaze away from the crowd as nothing – and nobody – catches his eye. Ignoring his friend’s judgemental stare, he lights a cigarette, bringing it to his lips and inhaling the calming aroma, before breathing out a cloud of smoke.

“No, but she seemed to like you a lot.” Soobin says, and Yeonjun lets out a snort of laughter, which earns him another death stare from his friend. “Aren’t you afraid you’ll run out of girls to hook up with?”

“I can always go to a bar and find some new ones. Seoul is full of girls, which makes it even more embarrassing that you’re incapable of finding yourself one.”

“Oh, shut up. It’s not like you’ve ever had a proper relationship, either. I’d say that’s even more embarrassing.”

“How is it embarrassing? I’m living the dream, man, admit it.” And as if to prove his point, he takes another drag of his cigarette, blowing the smoke directly into his friend’s frowning face.

And then he looks at the crowd of students again, totally uninterested as always. At least until his eyes land on your frame and he’s suddenly feeling more interested than he’s ever felt before. Because, holy fuck, who is that girl and why has he never seen her before? For a moment, he’s just staring at you, eyes running over all your features as if not to forget any of them, mind racing with the thought that you might just be the prettiest girl he’s ever seen in his entire life. And then you disappear into the crowd again and all that’s left is his burning determination to make you his.

“Who was that girl?” He asks his friend, finger pointing in the direction of where you were standing just a moment ago.

Thankfully, Soobin seems to have seen you, too. “Huh? Oh, her? That’s Y/N.”

“You know her?”

Raising a brow, he responds skeptically. “Yeah, why? She’s the class president in my class.”

Oh, wow. Class president. He's never been with a class president – mostly because all of their school talk was impossible to endure – but that shouldn't be much of a problem. You are still a girl, after all, and girls are his specialty.

It only takes a few more questions directed at a not-so-happy Soobin to find out that you work as an assistant at the school library during breaks, and so Yeonjun has found his destination. He's so quick to run into the school that it's not before he's spent five minutes looking for the library that he realizes he has no idea where it is. Groaning in frustration, he asks one of the bypassers to show him the way, but it takes another three minutes for the girl to stop blushing and giggling, which makes Yeonjun question whether it's worth it to even go there.

But then he's reminded of how pretty you looked from a distance, and he knows he has to see you up close. So he lets the girl bring him to the library, and he's quick to realize that this might just be his least favorite place in the whole school. The room is filled with nothing but shelves of books and the girls who are sitting by the tables are nowhere near as pretty as he'd like. And they're also not even paying him a glance – something he finds a little weird. Now he just hopes you're good with your mouth, so that his time doesn't go to waste.

“Do you need help with anything?”

He hears from behind him and yes, his eyes weren't playing tricks on him earlier – you're even prettier up close. Of course you'd come up to him first – he'd doubted your ability to take initiative since you are a class president, but it seems that he'd overestimated people's capability of resisting his good looks. You are just making his task so much easier.

“Not really, no,” He grins widely, running his ring-clad fingers through his hair. “Just wanted to ask you if you’re free this weekend.”

He watches as you scrunch up your nose in confusion – it’s kind of cute – and awaits your answer with the grin never leaving his face. If there’s anything he’s good at, it’s asking people out. Though the fact that he’s had a 100% success rate all his life probably helps with the confidence. You sigh a little and it brings him to reality, making him realize that you’re taking a little too much time thinking and too little time agreeing to go out with him.

“Sorry,” You say finally, gaze so uninterested that it kind of reminds him of his. “I’m not interested.”

And just like that, you walk away from him. Totally unfazed, too, like you didn’t just reject Choi fucking Yeonjun. It makes him furious. But for some unknown reason, it also makes him interested. And when Choi Yeonjun is interested in someone… Well, he’s not going to give up that easily.

—

“What do you mean Choi Yeonjun asked you out?” One of your friends exclaims as you sit in the cafeteria, your hand quickly coming up to cover her mouth so that nobody hears what you’re talking about.

“Would you quiet down a little?” You hiss in her direction, removing your hand when she rolls her eyes. “I mean, he asked me out. When I was in the library. Just appeared out of nowhere, asking me if I have plans for the weekend.”

“Oh my god, that’s amazing! What did you say?”

“No, obviously. Why would I wanna-”

“What do you mean you said no?!” There it is again – a high pitched squeak and a facial expression of someone who was just deeply offended. And knowing your friend, she probably is. “Are you fucking insane? Why wouldn’t you want to go out with the Choi Yeonjun? Literally every girl at this school would kill to get asked out by him.”

“I wouldn’t,” You say, going back to your food. “He hooks up with every other girl he sees and smokes cigarettes. I don’t want anything to do with him.”

“Sure, you don’t,” You hear your friend scoff in annoyance, but this time you choose to ignore her. It’s not like you could ever convince her to stop admiring the guy, so why waste your oxygen trying? Honestly, it’s all getting on your nerves – how everyone seems to adore him. Girls want to date him and boys want to be him. You’ve never quite understood why.

Not that it matters – now that you’ve told him off there’s no way he wants anything to do with you. Right?

Wrong.

You realize just how much you’re mistaken already the next day as you’re hurrying to class, four textbooks huddled in your arms as you push your way through the crowd. It's 9:21 and your class started six minutes earlier, leaving you with no choice but to pay no attention to your surroundings and focus on getting to the classroom. Which turns out to be a very bad idea the moment you run straight into something – no, someone – and drop all your books on the floor. Not to mention that it feels like you just broke your nose.

“Ow,” You mutter under your breath, and you hear a low chuckle that makes you look up at the person you just ran into. And, holy shit, there's just no way someone can be this unlucky.

“Where are you going in such a hurry, sweetheart?”

You furrow your brows at the one and only Choi Yeonjun, who's standing in front of you with his hands buried in his pockets and an annoyingly attractive smirk on his face as he eyes you up and down. Did he just call you sweetheart? You suppose he did. Not that you feel special or anything – he probably calls every girl that.

Just like he probably picks up every girl's books when she drops them – which is what he's doing right now as you still try to recover from the shock of seeing him again after such a short time. You don't even get to protest as he kneels down, before picking them up and handing them to you with his cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. It should be a repulsive sight, but it's actually ridiculously attractive on him.

“To class? Where else would I be going?” And before he gets to reply, you're already pushing past him to leave the conversation. But after barely two steps you feel his hand on your shoulder, turning you around to look at him again. “What are you doing? I need to go.”

“Come on, it won't kill your teacher to wait another five minutes,” He tilts his head to the side, studying your face so intensely that you're afraid he'll see the way you're not as calm as you appear to be. “Don’t you wanna go outside and take a cigarette with me?”

“I don't smoke,” You say. “Especially not with people like you.”

For a moment, you're scared he'll get mad at you for saying that, because his smirk drops and his eyes grow darker – as if what you said hit him a little too hard. But it's most probably just your imagination playing tricks on you, because in the blink of an eye he's smirking again, this time with a hint of amusement in his gaze.

“People like me? What's that supposed to mean?”

Um, I don't know, fuckboys who change girlfriends every week and don't give a shit about other people's feelings, maybe? But you don't say that out loud. Instead you shake his hand off of your shoulder and ignore the feeling that something's missing when you no longer feel his touch.

“I have to get to class.”

And just like that, you walk away from him for the second time. Only this time, he's not the only one with this strange encounter on his mind.

—

You've only met him twice, and both times you spoke with him only briefly, but that doesn't change the fact that Choi Yeonjun is the one occupying your mind for the next couple of days. What's even worse is that you're not sure just why you're thinking about him – whether it's because you've had enough of him, or the total opposite. But since you're a rational person, you settle with the first one: that you're simply thinking about him because you don't want to see him ever again.

That is actually something you've managed to do for the last few days – you haven't even seen him in the hallway. Which is refreshing, because it means you're back to normal, being the class president who can focus on school and not some annoying troublemaker. You've purged all thoughts of Yeonjun that were left in your head by the time you're in the cafeteria, hungry as hell. Saying a quick goodbye to your friends, you head over to one of the vending machines in order to buy yourself an iced coffee – you deserve it after all the schoolwork you've done today, that's for sure.

When you've chosen your drink, you press your card against the sensor and wait for it to withdraw the money, but after a few seconds a message saying 'card rejected' pops up on the screen. You sigh softly, trying again.

“What the fuck?” You mumble to yourself as your card gets rejected by the paying machine once again.

“You sure you have enough money on that card, kitten?”

You jump slightly at the sound of a voice barely two centimeters from your ear. Your hand instinctively comes up in order to cover your mouth to muffle your gasp as you turn around only to be met with a pair of deep brown eyes, belonging to none other than Choi Yeonjun himself. He only laughs at your reaction, letting one of his hands rest on your shoulder as he leans over the vending machine with his card between his fingers.

“What are you doing?” You finally ask as he hands you your card, pressing his against the machine instead.

“What do you mean?” He fetches the drink from the vending machine and holds it out in front of you, urging you to take it.

“I mean, what do you think you're doing?”

“I’m paying for your coffee, that's what I'm doing,” He says it like it's the normal thing to do, but you both know this isn't how he usually acts. And it freaks you out, knowing that he's acting nicer than usual. Because what the fuck does he want? “Now would you please take this from my hands? It's a little rude not to thank me when I'm being so generous, don't you think?”

So you grab the drink, eyeing him cautiously as he walks over to the nearest table before plumping down on one of the cheap chairs. He looks so out of place here, with his dark hair and silver rings adorning his long fingers that have already fetched his phone from his pocket. You don’t recall ever seeing him here, actually – you’ve heard from your fanatic friends that he always eats lunch at the cafe close by the school. You’re not sure why – maybe because he feels too cool to eat in the school cafeteria or maybe he wants to avoid all the giggling girls that are looking at him with eyes full of adoration. Whatever the reason, he never eats here.

And yet he’s sitting right there, scrolling through his phone with no apparent wish to get out of the cafeteria anytime soon.

“Are you just gonna stand there or what?”

“Huh?” His words bring you back to reality and you realize you’ve just been standing a meter away from the table with your coffee clutched in your hand this entire time. You hadn’t even noticed that he’d looked up from his phone, that annoying smirk plastered back onto his features as he speaks.

“Aren’t you gonna sit down?” Seeing your expression, he chuckles softly, and for some reason you don’t find his laugh that annoying – it's quite pretty actually. Has a nice ring to it. Not that you care what his laugh sounds like, of course. “What, you don’t drink coffee with people like me, either?”

You don’t respond, instead opting for sitting down by the table, across from him. You’re not sure what possessed you to do that – whether it was the embarrassment from earlier or the way that Yeonjun’s burning gaze is too much to handle while standing up – but you don’t miss the jealous stares from the nearby-seated girls, reminding you that there’s literally no reason for you to be talking with Choi Yeonjun right now. Or ever, for that matter.

“Give me your number,” He says once you’ve taken a sip of your drink, making you almost choke on it.

With a bewildered expression, you look at him and the phone he’s shoving in your direction. The ‘create a new contact’ function is open and it’s obvious he wants you to write your number there. For a moment, you’re about to do it, the way that he said it with so much confidence somehow making you weak in the knees even when sitting down. Now you can understand how he can pull every girl he wants. But then you’re able to think clearly again, and you realize that phone probably contains the numbers of tens of girls whom he’d hooked up with.

And you know for a fact that you’re not about to become the next checked-off item on his list.

“Why would I give you my number?” You say to him, pushing the phone away from you on the table.

He raises an eyebrow in amusement, smiling a little wider at your response and it makes you groan internally. Why must he be so hard to upset? “God, you’re really stubborn, huh?”

It annoys you that his voice holds an amused tone, and it annoys you that he finds your attempts at rejecting him funny. Shouldn’t someone like him – someone who isn't used to being pushed away by anyone – be much easier to discourage? Why is he so fucking persistent? Why is he ignoring your uninviting demeanor, when he could be chasing after any other girl – a girl who’d have no problem falling to her knees for him in the span of two seconds. But you suppose it’s partly your own fault since you’re not making any particular effort at leaving the scene.

“You don’t know anything about me.” You hope your voice sounds as confident as it did in your head when you let those words leave your mouth.

“Well, I want to get to know you.”

“No, you don’t,” You scoff, letting your eyes meet his this time. “You want to get in my pants.”

“What’s the difference?”

Even though you kind of expected that kind of response from a well-known fuckboy, it still makes your mouth fall open. “Are you serious right now?”

“No.” His lips spread in a smile as he rests his chin on his hand, eyes glistening with amusement as he observes the change of your facial expressions. “But I bet you thought I was.”

He’s absolutely right and it makes you feel exposed in a way. Like you’ve been thinking there’s no personality to him, and now he’s proving you wrong. That’s what he’s acting like, anyway. Like him knowing the difference between getting to know someone and wanting to sleep with them makes him any less of an asshole. If anything, it’s the opposite – it means he deliberately chooses to play with people’s feelings, and since you know he’s good at it, the best choice would be to leave now, before his demeanor somehow grabs your attention and interest.

“You don’t know very much about me either, do you, sweetheart?”

Your breath hitches a little as his hand accidentally brushes against yours when he puts it on the table, and you’re quick to pull it back to you and rest it in your lap instead. His eyes won’t leave you alone as he yet again pushes his phone towards you, further proving your theory that the man just won’t take a hint. “I’m throwing a party this Saturday. You should come. I’ll text you the address, so give me your number.”

“Can’t you just tell me?” You cock an eyebrow at him. “Besides, what makes you think I wanna come to your party?”

“I think,” He leans a little forward, and you try to slow down your heart that’s started banging against your chest a little too loudly. “You like being around me a little more than you let on. And I think that you want to get to know me, too. So this is your chance. And if I can’t convince you to give me a chance by then, I’ll leave you alone. Okay?”

“So you need to be at a party to show me that you’re worth knowing?” You taunt, again a little disappointed when you see that all your words cause is a short laugh. “But fine, I’ll come.”

You’re not sure what got into you, but the moment you say that, you realize the thought of coming to his party is making you excited. And even though you know it’s foul, the vision of showing all those shallow girls that you’re the one he spent time hitting on, that you’re the one he put in effort for, is tempting. You don’t want to be another girl he throws away when he’s done with, but you also can’t help the way his perseverance is slowly, but surely pushing down the walls you’ve put up around yourself.

“Perfect.” And it feels like a crime to have butterflies swarm in your stomach as he sends you a smile – one that feels so genuine that you almost forget he’s nothing but a player. Almost.

—

It goes without saying that your friends were thrilled to hear that you, out of all people, are invited to Choi Yeonjun’s party, and their excitement went over the roof the moment you told them you’re bringing them along. Now, bringing your Choi Yeonjun-obsessed besties to his party might not be the brightest idea, but at this point it’s your only option, since there’s no way you’re going alone.

Why? Partly because you’re straight up terrified of parties, but mostly because bringing your friends along is a good opportunity to discourage Yeonjun from further pursuing his determination to get in your pants. There’s no way a guy who only wants sex will care enough to put up with your crazy friends and your aversion to partying. At least you hope so. Lately, Yeonjun has been proving every assumption you’ve ever had about him wrong.

Nevertheless, you’re sure he won’t prove this one wrong. Because he is still a fuckboy, after all, and fuckboys are only interested in one thing – getting their dicks wet. So when he doesn’t get that from you, he’ll leave your life and so will this strange sense of attraction you feel every time he speaks to you.

“Are we at the right place?” You ask your friends as all three of you stand in front of the house that Yeonjun told you the party would be at.

“Are you stupid or what? Of course we are, don’t you see the people passed out on the lawn?”

Of course, you do. It’s not like you’re blind. Just nervous. Really fucking nervous. For a moment, you question whether you should just go back to your dorm and read a book like you normally would on a Saturday night, but unfortunately, you doubt you could’ve focused on the words knowing that somewhere out there, Yeonjun is waiting for you to show up at his door. Maybe even thinking of you, of getting to know you. No, Y/N, he doesn’t want to get to know you, you mentally scold yourself. He wants to fuck you. So get yourself out of this ditch before you fall in too deep.

“Right. I’ll knock then.” Your friend looks at you expectantly and you clear your throat before ringing the doorbell with shaky fingers. Fuck. What are you so stressed about?

Much to your poor heart’s dismay, the one opening the door for you is Choi Yeonjun himself. He’s looking even more annoyingly handsome than he usually does, with a silver chain around his neck and his shirt half unbuttoned, the sleeves of it rolled up to reveal his forearms. And god, is he a sight to see. It makes you understand the girls who swarm around him at all times. Especially when he leans on the doorway, licking his lips in a seemingly innocent manner that unintentionally makes your heart beat faster, before inviting you inside with his signature smirk planted to his face.

“Y/N,” He says and the way your name rolls off of his tongue sends shivers down your spine. It’s the first time you’ve heard him say it, and it makes you grateful he’s never called you by your name at school because the subtle warmth laced in his voice is very distracting. “And friends, I suppose.”

Oh, right. Your friends. Who you brought here to annoy the guy whose voice you just internally drooled over. In your head, you thank Yeonjun for the reminder as to why you're really here – because it's surely not to shamelessly stare at his veiny hand that is wrapped around a plastic cup.

“Oh, yeah, these are my friends,” You say, pointing to the two girls that are practically drooling as they look at Yeonjun. But you suppose you're not allowed to judge them anymore, not after basically doing the same thing. To your defense, every girl would look if Choi Yeonjun stood in front of her like that. Or at least you hope that this isn’t a sign of you getting too attached.

“Wow, Yeonjun, you look much more handsome in real life than on instagram,” One of your friends gushes as he opens the door wider, allowing all three of you to enter the packed house. The moment you step inside, you’re hit with the strong smell of alcohol and sweat, as well as loud music that you can already sense is about to give you a headache. “You wouldn’t mind giving me your number, right?”

The moment those words leave her mouth, you’re whipping your head around to look at her half-surprised, half-mad. Why, you’re not sure, but the thought of her hitting on him makes something twist in your stomach unpleasantly. The death stare you send her doesn’t seem to have any impact, but Yeonjun’s words do as he drapes his arm over your shoulders before sending you – not your friend, you – a teeth-flashing grin. “Yeah, no, sorry, I’m kinda busy right now. Talk to you later, uh, whatever your name is.”

And just like that, he walks further into the crowd, pulling you with him, and you’re too shocked by the whole situation to even react, only managing to look back at your friends for a mere second. But, for some reason, their shocked faces don’t even make you feel that bad about walking away, partly because they pissed you off, but also because Yeonjun’s arm fits strangely perfectly around your shoulder, and his fingers grazing the exposed skin on your arm bother you way less than they should. Even the girls sending you ugly stares manage to be somehow drowned down by his light, but heart-stirring touch as he leads you to the kitchen, before finally letting you go.

“If you brought me here to seduce me, don’t hold your breath,” You tell him as he walks over to the counter, grabbing a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. “I didn’t come here for that.”

There's a small smirk on his face as he looks up at you. “Then what did you come for?”

“You forced me to, remember? I came so that you'll finally accept your defeat and leave me alone.”

A chuckle leaves his lips as you watch him open the bottle, realizing that there's actually nobody except the two of you in the kitchen. The walls provide a good exclusion of the loud music, and there's some kind of peace to the atmosphere. It's the first time you're alone with Yeonjun in a room, but it doesn't stress you out at all – actually, it’s calming.

“You know, that’s what I like about you,” He smiles, pouring the alcohol as if he didn’t just say something that makes your heart drop to your stomach for just a second. “That you always say what you mean. No matter what, you do what you want to do and say what you want to say. It takes a lot of courage to do that, you know.”

You scoff at his words, sitting down on the floor with your back pressed up against the counter. “Just how drunk are you? You’re talking nonsense. Everyone says what they wanna say and does what they wanna do.”

“Really?” He cocks an eyebrow, before sitting down next to you and handing you your drink. For just a short moment, your fingers graze his skin as you're taking the glass from his hands, and goosebumps spread across your whole body from the contact. But then he lets go, and the sensation disappears, leaving you feeling somewhat empty. “I don’t.”

You furrow your eyebrows, taking a sip of your drink and instantly frowning afterwards, the strong taste burning your throat. He laughs at your reaction – not in the cocky way, but warmly, like he genuinely finds you amusing, but his smile fades when you speak. “What are you talking about?”

“I don't even know,” He sighs, lighting one of his cigarettes as he leans his head back and inhales the smoke, and it feels like an eternity before he speaks again. “Sometimes I just feel like I don't even know who I am anymore.”

He doesn't even expect you to react in any way. Why should you? He's been all but bothering you the last few days, doing absolutely nothing that would prove wrong your assumptions about what kind of a person he is. And yet he's telling you things – things he's never told anyone before, things he thought he'd never say. Part of him hopes you just won't say anything, that you'll leave and forget he ever brought this up, but at the same time, he wants you to listen, because it's his chance to prove to you that he's something more than just the facade he's been putting up around himself.

But you don't owe him that. You don't owe him anything, especially not listening to his problems. He doesn't owe you an explanation, either, though, so maybe he should be the one to stand up and leave the scene. Or maybe he does owe you an explanation, after all, for spending so much time with you even though everybody knows he doesn't like wasting his time. You're probably left wondering what the hell he wants with you, and frankly, so is he.

He's almost set on leaving, but then he hears your voice laced with concern, and when he whips his head around to look you in the eyes, he sees it's paired with an expression of genuine interest in your features, and he knows that even if he tried, he wouldn't be able to leave now.

“In what way?” You're asking him, tilting your head a little to the side. “I thought you would be the person to know exactly who you are and what you want.”

“Well, I did tell you you don't know much about me, didn't I?” He grins, but seeing your awaiting face, he stops. You're really serious about this, and it makes him question whether he should have said anything at all. “Besides, there's not much to say. I created the problem myself when I decided to become the kind of person people like you stay away from. It's not like I can blame people for seeing me as just an asshole if that's all there's ever been to me.”

“Is it, though?” You ask, eyeing him cautiously as he places the cigarette between his lips again. “Is that all there is to you?”

It takes him a while to respond, his mind stirring with thoughts as he wonders, what else is there to him? He's promised to show you that he's worth knowing, but now that he's to prove it, he has no idea what to say. That's a first. It's also a first that he doesn't feel like he's wasting his time getting to know a girl – actually, he can't get enough of the way you're observing him as if you really care.

“No. I don't think it is.” He says finally. “Because there are still things I want to do. There are still pictures I'd like to take, songs I'd like to play and places I'd like to go. And there are people I'd like to know.”

“Like who?” Your question is genuine, he realizes, and it makes him laugh, because still, you somehow haven't put the pieces together. Class president, yet you can't seem to understand he's flirting with you.

“You.” And it's no secret that he enjoys – a little too much, maybe – watching how your caring expression turns into one half-annoyed, half-flustered. He thinks you're adorable, scoffing to hide the way his words have an impact on you. Or at least he hopes they do.

“Why are you telling me all this, out of all the people you could've chosen to say it to?”

“I don't know, honestly,” He sighs, throwing his cigarette away. “You’re the only one who’d care, I suppose.”

You can't help but giggle, probably influenced by the alcohol. “The only person who'd care is the one who told you to fuck off the first time you met her?”

“Yeah, I know, it's fucking ironic.” He laughs, too.

And for some unidentified reason, you realize you wouldn't have wanted to be anywhere else at this moment, than here, in the kitchen at a party, next to the biggest fuckboy of them all, Choi Yeonjun. If anyone had told you three weeks earlier that you'd grow to enjoy talking to a guy like him, you wouldn't have believed them, but it's true that the smile plastered onto your face is genuine. And silently, you hope Yeonjun’s is, too. It's a stupid thing to hope for, you know that. Especially since he’s known for breaking hearts. But pretending to not give a fuck would be just as stupid at this point.

Suddenly, interrupting this peaceful moment, a load of drunk teenagers barge into the kitchen, each one shouting louder than the other. You frown as the loud music from the other room hits your ears, and curse them silently for ruining what was a very enjoyable interaction.

You're just about to stand up and leave as you feel the warmth of Yeonjun’s hand as he laces his fingers through yours like it's the easiest thing in the world, before leaning to the side to whisper in your ear. His lips just barely craze the shell of your ear, and you feel a little lightheaded, though you're not sure whether that's from the alcohol or being able to feel his breath tickling your skin as he speaks.

“Do you wanna get out of here?”

And there it is. The words that bring you to reality, that remind you that Choi Yeonjun is, after all, your school's well-known fuckboy who just wants you in his bed. And though you already knew that, it hurts a little stronger because for a moment you felt like there was something more to him than that.

“And go to your bedroom? No, thank you,” You’re quick to pull away from him, but your hands remain interlaced because his grip is too tight to escape instantly. His brows furrow at your words, but he lets go of your hand when he sees you struggling to get out of his grip.

“You should chill out a little, kitten,” His mildly annoyed tone catches you off guard – you’ve never thrown him off before. Is this the moment he stops talking to you entirely because you didn’t let him get what he wants? “I actually wanted to take you home. It’s getting late and you don’t look like you’re enjoying the party.”

Oh. Oh. He wants to take you home. Choi Yeonjun wants to take you home. Now you most definitely feel like an idiot. You’re so shocked – and humiliated – that you can’t even say anything, so instead, you just follow him through the crowd as turns around to leave, heading towards the exit. Sensing he’s somewhat upset, you stay quiet, but you truly regret not holding his hand as you push through all the dancing people. You shouldn’t be thinking like that, you’re aware, but it bothers you that you judged him like that. Even though he deserves to be judged, he’s a player. And an asshole. And you don’t even want to get to know him. You don’t care what he thinks of you. Right?

“You’re not mad at me, are you?”

Wrong. You do care. You hope he doesn’t hear it in your voice, but it’s pretty much obvious from the way all arrogance is wiped from your face and you’re looking up at him with expectant eyes as he pushes one of the curtains away to look out the window. For the brief moment that his gaze isn’t on you, you allow yourself to admire him – his hand that brings his drink to his lips, his dark eyes in which you can see the luminescence radiating off of the moon from outside. And you realize you don’t want to part from him just yet.

“No,” He says finally, letting go of the curtain and looking you straight in the eyes. This time, his gaze has softened and although you’re not sure exactly how you acquired this information, you know he’s sincere. “I’ll walk you home, it's dark outside already.”

He’ll walk you home? Part of you is curious as to why – you’ve heard from your friend that he’s always the last one to leave parties, especially those he throws himself. But another part of you, a bigger part, is feeling euphoric about spending more time with him, so you don’t really question him. You’ve done enough of that for one day. Waiting for Yeonjun to put on his jacket, you open the door, only to be met with a gush of cold wind and the sound of raindrops hitting the pavement outside. It’s fucking pouring.

“Fuck,” You mutter under your breath, catching Yeonjun’s attention.

“Wow, miss class president, you should watch your language. You’re setting a bad example.”

“Yeah, whatever,” You say with a smile. “It’s raining.”

You watch as he opens a closet, searching for something for a few seconds before he reaches you an umbrella. Opening it, you realize it’s decently big and will work great in stopping you from getting wet. But as Yeonjun closes the closet without taking out a second umbrella, you raise your brow at him questioningly. “What about you?”

“There’s only one. And you'd think a rich family like Taehyun’s would have more umbrellas.”

You hand him the umbrella as he walks over to you, figuring that it’ll work better if he’s the one to hold it since he’s taller. He doesn’t even care enough to bid his goodbyes, which surprises you a little – it’s his party after all – but after all you’ve witnessed today you conclude that you do, in fact, not know much about Choi Yeonjun, so there’s no point in assuming anything. Besides, a small part of you is hoping that he forgot to say goodbye because he was too caught up in you. Minimal chance that it applies, but still. Let a girl dream, right?

The two of you walk outside together, his arm bumping into yours as both of you try to fit under the umbrella. The weather is truly horrible, but luckily – or not, you’re not sure – the way home isn’t very long. You shiver a little as the cold breeze reaches your skin, regretting that you didn’t bring a warmer jacket. Oh well, it could've been worse. You could’ve been stuck in this weather alone, with no umbrella at all.

“Are you cold?”

“What?” You look at him, a little confused.

“You’re shivering,” He points out, handing you the umbrella and sliding his jacket off of his shoulders before you can protest. “Here, take this. I’m hot anyway.”

You take the jacket from his hands, and he waits with the umbrella directly over your head as you put it on. Starting to walk again, you can't help but inhale the smell that hits your nose when you bury your face in the fabric. It smells mostly like Yeonjun’s cologne – the expensive one that you felt for the first time when he picked up your books for you in the hallway, but underneath that there's also a scent that can't be anything but him. Is this what his skin smells like? If so, you're not sure you ever want to give this jacket back to him.

“Thank you.”

“It’s nothing,” He shrugs, but you partly hope it isn't actually nothing to him. Because it's definitely something to you.

You both stay silent for a while, and it's a little weird seeing him so quiet, but you savor the moment nevertheless. At this point, it's evident that your original plan has failed – because if there's anything you haven't done tonight, it's getting rid of the connection that seems to be forming between you and Yeonjun. Truly, though, you can't bring yourself to think about that now. Rather, you turn your head to him and for a split second, you're taken aback by how close your face is to his when he turns to look at you, too.

It takes a couple seconds for you to realize that he only turned to look at you because he felt your gaze on him, not because he can read your thoughts or anything.

“By the way,” You say to him. “You said something about Taehyun’s family being rich, yet not having enough umbrellas. But I thought we were at your house.”

“My house?” He laughs a little, as if the idea throws him off. “Nah, I don't really invite people over there. It's messy and small, and Taehyun’s house works much better.”

“You’d think fuckboys would have plenty of people to invite over.”

“Never said I don't have anyone to invite over. It's just that most people I know aren't worth inviting over.”

“Oh,” You say. What's that supposed to mean? Does he mean that you, too, aren't worth inviting over or what? You almost regret that he's proven not to be the person you'd expected him to be, because if he fit into that little bison you had of him, it would've been much easier to read him. “Well, someone you know must be worth inviting over, right?”

You hope to god that he doesn't hear the longing in your voice, but from the way the corners of his lips lift up in a smirk and he places his hand on your shoulder to stop you from walking any further, you can tell your prayers haven't been heard. Not even giving you a chance to defend yourself, he's turning his body towards you, pulling you closer by your shoulder. When he leans down, his face is so close to yours that you fear he can hear your heart that is on its way to beat out of your chest.

“Well, I suppose someone is.” He purrs, bringing one of his hands to pick up the strand of hair that's stuck itself on your skin and tuck it behind your ear. “You know that if you want to spend time with me, you can just ask, right, kitten?”

If his goal is to make you have a heart attack, then he's on the right track for sure, because you're feeling extremely dizzy now that his eyes are focused solely on you and his hand is resting against the skin on your neck. You wonder how he's able to keep his cool – this is probably nothing new for him, but still, it's like you're breathing the same air. That must surely have some kind of impact on him, right? But even if it does, he doesn't show it, because the smirk on his face doesn't fade – if anything, it grows wider at your flustered state.

“That’s not what I-”

“It’s time for us to move past the lying stage, don't you think?” He runs one of his fingers over the skin right below your jaw, and it takes every bit of willpower inside of you not to lean into his touch. “It’s getting a little old.”

One of his rings comes in contact with your flesh and it makes you shiver – something you could've probably covered up by saying it's from the cold, but something tells you that there's no point in lying to him. Part of you wants to break the tension and pretend like nothing happened at all, but you're way too caught up in him to look away. Your eyes move from his eyes to his mouth and back again, and you wonder if his lips have always looked this kissable.

For a split second, you think he's thinking the same thing; with the way he's licking his lower lip, inching a little closer to you it seems like he's about to break the distance between you. And in that moment, you realize that you'd let him. If he were to kiss you right now, you wouldn't even have thought of pushing him away. Actually, you realize, you really want him to kiss you right now. You really, really do. But then his phone starts vibrating in his pocket, and slowly, but surely, the breathtaking moment is coming to an end as he stands up straight again, his eyes now glistening with annoyance rather than desire.

“Shit, it's Soobin,” He mutters, removing his hand from where it was resting against your skin, leaving you feeling somewhat empty. “I need to pick up.”

He doesn't walk away since it's still raining like crazy, but he turns a little away from you as he talks to his friend. You could've probably listened in on their conversation, but you're not very interested in it, and honestly, what occupies your mind more is the occurrence that took place just a moment ago. What the fuck just happened? Was Choi fucking Yeonjun just about to kiss you, or was it just your imagination playing tricks on you? Either way, you're both frustrated and relieved that this situation came to an end.

You're drunk. You can't think straight. That's why you let him tuck your hair behind your ear and look at you as if you were the only girl in the world. That's why your heart fluttered when he smiled down at you – that goddamn smile that makes everyone weak in the knees. But if that's the only reason, then why is your heart still beating quickly even though he's not touching you? And why do you feel more sober than you've felt your whole life?

“Hey, miss president,” He says, catching your attention. You look up at him, and you're surprised to see his classic smirk missing from his features, replaced by a frown. “I need to go back to the party. Soobin says they're planning to jump on the glass table or some shit, and trust me, Taehyun will kill me if something happens to his parents' furniture.”

“Oh,” You say. “Alright then, I’ll just take the bus, since the station is right here.”

You're lucky, that's for sure, because the bus station is merely twenty meters or so away from where you and Yeonjun are standing. You'll still have to walk in the rain for a while to get home after taking the bus, but you don't mention that, since Yeonjun looks annoyed enough as it is. As to why that is, you’re not sure, but you partially hope that it's because he's reluctant to leave you. Because you’re personally very hesitant to say goodbye.

“Yeah, do that,” He says. “And text me when you get home, just so I know if I have to find myself a new girl to annoy. And make sure I won’t have to, because finding girls worth inviting over is very difficult these days.”

And before you can even respond or fully register what he just said, he winks at you and starts walking away, leaving you alone to sort out the chaos in your head. First of all, Choi Yeonjun just asked you to text him when you get home. Which means, that to some extent, he must genuinely care for you. Secondly, he indirectly said you’re worth inviting over. Even though he doesn’t normally invite anyone over to his house. Which might – just might – mean that you’re more special to him than those other girls. And thirdly, he just winked and left. Without his umbrella or jacket.

“Yeonjun, wait!” You shout before you’re able to stop yourself. Fortunately for you, he’s close enough to catch your voice and he turns back, walking over to you again. His black hair is completely wet now, and so is his white shirt that has now become useless because it’s sticking to his skin, outlining his abs and biceps very well. Too well, actually, because you catch your eyes flicking down to stare at them even as you talk to him. “What about the umbrella?”

A smile spreads itself on his face and you’re this close to having your knees buckle at how gorgeous he looks in that moment. You'd never tell him that – it’d only heighten his already inflated ego, but you’d be an idiot not to admit it to yourself, at least. Your mind can barely register what he says when he answers your question. “Keep it. I’ll just run.”

“But-”

“Just keep it, I said. Or you might catch a cold,” Goosebumps spread themselves across your skin like fire, and you know it’s not from the wind. The way he’s looking at you doesn't help either, with his warm eyes staring into yours so fondly, that if you didn't know any better you’d say he was infatuated. “Besides, I’m sure you'd like to have something that reminds you of me in your room, right, sweetheart?”

“As if,” You say, but your voice sounds too weak to convince him that you actually mean it. “Go, then. Before they completely wreck the house.”

“Bye, Y/N, I had fun today,” He says, a little bit louder than normal so you’ll hear him over the rain, and you can see a hint of something you wouldn’t consider anything but pure bliss in his eyes. “Oh, and keep the jacket, too. It looks much better on you, anyway.”

With those words, he walks away quickly and you stand looking after him until he’s completely out of your sight. Only when you’re entirely certain you can’t catch a glimpse of his white shirt somewhere in the distance do you start moving towards the bus station, thinking to yourself that this night did not go as planned. Not at all. But it doesn’t really matter, because for the first time in a long time you feel like you don't want to spend the next day alone.

That maybe, just maybe, you want to spend it with Choi Yeonjun.

—

You've heard multiple times that rumors spread faster than wildfire at your school, but you've never really paid it any thought – you were never involved in said rumors, anyway. Until now, it seems like, because the moment you enter the school on Monday morning, everyone's eyes are on you. Most of them don't even try to hide that their conversations are about you, some even point their fingers in your direction as you enter the hallway.

At first, you're all but confused. Do you look weird or something? Why have they all taken a sudden interest in you? But then, as you walk by a group of frowning girls, you overhear the words ‘Yeonjun’ and ‘his new girl’, and immediately, you know what this is all about. Hanging out with the school’s most popular boy has some downsides as well, and this is one of them. Everyone knows, after yesterday's party, probably, that you're the girl who piqued Choi Yeonjun’s interest, and since you so sensibly chose to wear the jacket he borrowed you to school today, you've gotten rid of everyone's doubts.

But it's fine – the girls at your school have a talent for finding new things to gossip about very fast, so you don't doubt that by the time you're back from chemistry class, they'll be over it.

Class goes smoothly as always, you take some notes and pay no attention to the few girls that whisper to each other about you, because you're sure that rumor will die down soon. Besides, it's hard to feel uneasy when the first thing you see as you take out your phone is a text message from none other than Choi Yeonjun, reading ‘hey miss class president, when do ur classes end? i’ll come meet u’.

You smile involuntarily upon thinking about meeting him and you're quick to write back: ‘at 2pm. don't be late.’ A mere second later comes a reply reading ‘wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart’ and in response, you only grin to yourself, heart already beating in excitement. The second the bell rings, you're out the door, fixing your hair hastily as you look into the camera of your phone. It's not like you want him to notice the efforts you're putting in to look good, because he'd probably figure out it's all for him way too quickly, but you can't help feeling a little nervous about meeting him. Though you shouldn't, because who is he to make you feel this way?

With your thoughts occupied by Yeonjun, you don't even realize you've run into someone before you feel yourself stumbling backwards, your bag almost falling off of your shoulder.

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry,” You say quickly, eyes scanning the face of the girl you just bumped into for any signs of bruises. Thankfully, there is none, and after bowing your head a little, you’re about to leave again. Yet, for some reason, the girl steps to the side to block your way and you see that her and her friends are glaring at you threateningly. Wow, are they this upset that you ran into them?

“Look, I’m sorry for bumping into you, but I’m kind of in a hurry, so-”

“Who exactly do you think you are?” You’re caught off guard when the girl speaks, her tone laced with venom as she crosses her arms over her chest. What the fuck? You can't recall ever seeing any of these girls before, so why are they suddenly acting like you stole their boyfriends or something?

“Excuse me?”

“I said, who the fuck do you think you are?” She repeats, just as venomously, rolling her eyes in the process. God, this girl is really getting on your nerves – especially since Yeonjun is most likely going to arrive by the cafeteria in a minute or two. She really couldn't have picked a worse moment to torment you. “Like, seriously, who are you to spend so much time with Yeonjun? What makes you so fucking special, that he decided to just beg for your attention, even though he never does that?”

Oh, so that’s what this is about. Of course. They’re asking you questions you don’t even know the answer to yourself. Why does he keep acting so interested and genuinely curious about you? It’s a thought that has been tormenting your thoughts ever since he picked up those books for you in the hallway.

And after the party on Saturday, when he was walking you home, he was so sweet and alluring, you’d managed to convince yourself that he did actually care for you. Because otherwise, how would you explain him borrowing you his umbrella, even if it meant him having to walk back in the rain? And why would he tell you to text him when you got home if he didn’t care? And, most importantly, why would he tuck your hair behind your ear and look at you as if you gave meaning to his life and lean in to kiss you as the rest of the world dissolved behind the rain?

He couldn’t have done all that without meaning any of it. You know that. Just like you know those girls think otherwise only because they don’t know him. And they never will, either. Because he wants to know you, not them. Something about that fills you up to the brim with joy. And even though part of you still wants to play it safe and keep your undeniable feelings towards him hidden away, it feels so much better to just let them bloom inside of you and wait for what will become of them.

“Are you deaf or what? Why does Yeonjun hang out with you all the time?”

“I don’t know, maybe because he likes it,” You retort, feeling your blood start to boil as the girls roll their eyes for the nth time. “And I know this kind of exceeds the amount of information your brain is able to process, but it’s dumb to refuse to believe that he’s found someone he enjoys being around just because he never cared enough to tell you himself.”

A few seconds pass and all you can see in her face is pure shock which slowly, but surely transitions into rage. Before you can even react, the girl has taken a step forward and pushed you with probably all her force, because it makes you stumble over your own feet and lose your balance. A hiss leaves your mouth as your bare knee comes in contact with the pavement, scraping your skin. “You should watch what you say, bitch.”

You’re just about to respond when you hear a familiar voice from somewhere behind the girl and it makes you groan in frustration that he had to arrive at a moment like this.

“What the fuck is going on here?”

Yeonjun looks as handsome as ever, his hands buried in his pockets and a chain hanging from his neck as he stands a few meters away from the scene, his eyes scanning the area before they finally land on you. You’re not certain, since he’s far away, but you think you can see his gaze soften a little when you meet his stare. It’s only for a moment, though, because next thing you know, he’s looking angrier than you’ve ever seen him before, his jaw clenching as he pushes past the girls and kneels in front of you.

“What happened?” He asks through gritted teeth, his touch soft as he examines your scraped knee.

“It’s nothing,” You mumble, keeping your gaze fixated on the ground. You're both embarrassed and scared to be caught in a situation like this. It's mostly because you're afraid that Yeonjun will stop spending time with you when he realizes what problems it causes, but also because he looks ready to punch someone and you don't want him to get into trouble because of you. Though he doesn't seem to care about that as he keeps pushing.

“I didn't ask you if it was something, I asked you what the fuck happened,” His voice is serious – more serious than you've ever heard him. “Just answer my question.”

“It’s not that important, okay? Let's just go.”

“But-”

“Let’s just go, Yeonjun, please,” You plead, finally meeting his gaze and watching the anger in his eyes slowly melt as you tug on his sleeve as if to keep him away from the girls behind him. All three of them are eyeing you, faces scrunched up in both shock and irritation. Yeonjun is paying them no attention right now, though, rather looking at you with an expression you can’t quite read.

For a moment, he just stays like that, staring at you for so long you start wondering if he’s studying your bone structure. But then he sighs deeply, closing his eyes for a second before draping his arm over your shoulders and helping you stand up, the warmth of his body against your side bringing a small smile to your face.

“You can walk, right?” He asks and when you nod he continues. “Let’s go to the infirmary, then.”

“It’s just a scratch, though.”

“So?” He leads you towards the school building, leaving the girls behind. “I already told you it’s hard to find pretty girls to annoy these days, so I’d rather be safe that you won’t die from this.”

You roll your eyes at his antics, but inside you can feel your heart speeding up dangerously as some kind of heavenly warmth spreads across your whole body. You might be a fool for feeling so captivated right now, but hearing him call you pretty most certainly made your blood pressure rise. It’s not like you didn’t know he finds you attractive – it’s the reason he approached you at first, after all. But it’s different somehow, hearing him say it so openly, like he’s totally unashamed of feeling that way.

It all almost makes you want to tell him that he absolutely does not annoy you in the slightest, and that if he’d ever stop giving you his attention you might just die from emotional misery. And while it is embarrassing to admit, you can’t deny you’ve grown attached to the type of affection he showers you with – the smiles he sends you, the jokes he tells, and the small, featherlight touches that he leaves on your skin like an everlasting mark.

“The infirmary’s this way, right?” You're torn away from your thoughts as you hear Yeonjun’s voice right above your ear.

“You don’t know where the infirmary is?” You ask him, smile tugging at your lips as you try to hold back the laugh that threatens to spill out of your mouth. He acts so tough, yet he doesn't even know where the school nurse resides. You're unable to keep your giggles inside when you see his annoyed expression, eyes glaring at you from above.

“Well, I haven’t had to deal with girls unable to take care of themselves before, have I?”

“Alright, then, if it’s so much trouble, I’ll just walk home and put on a bandaid myself,” You scoff at him, trying to wriggle out of his grip. That turns out to be a challenge, though, so it's your turn to glare at him.

“Cut it out,” He sighs, pulling you along as he starts walking through the hallway again. “I never said it was too much trouble, so stop acting childish.”

You smile a little to yourself as he pulls you closer to him, the scent of his perfume filling your senses as the two of you arrive at the infirmary. Unfortunately, Yeonjun lets go of you to open the door and you feel a little disappointed now that his skin isn't touching hours. Yet you walk inside nevertheless, looking around for any sign of the nurse. You can hear the door close from behind you and you turn around, letting Yeonjun know that there's nobody here.

“She’s probably on break,” You add.

You can see him roll his eyes as he walks over to the nurse’s desk, opening up the drawers in search of something – a bandaid, probably. You want to tell him that he shouldn't be doing that since the nurse isn't here, but seeing that he's already a little upset, you decide not to. Besides, he is Choi Yeonjun. He's done worse things than break into the nurse’s office to find a bandaid for a girl. A girl you're starting to wonder if he likes a bit more than he lets on.

“Sit on the desk,” Yeonjun says, making you furrow your brows in confusion. “I need to put on the bandaid, so sit on the desk.”

“Oh, okay,” You do what he says, letting your legs dangle off of the table as you sit on it, doing your best not to spread your thighs too much since you're wearing a skirt.

You can see how Yeonjun’s eyes follow your movements, and before you can even protest, he's taking off his hoodie and draping it over your legs, so that only your knee and the skin under it is exposed. Muttering a small ‘thank you’, you subtly let your eyes rest on his frame as he kneels in front of you, pouring some rubbing alcohol onto a damp cloth. He's done this before, probably, with how many times you've heard that his friends get into fights for fun.

“I can do it myself, you know,” You tell him when he brings the cloth to your knee, carefully brushing it over your scratch.

“I know.”

But he doesn't move away, nor does he meet your eyes as they look down on him – seemingly neutral, hopefully hiding the way your heart flutters at his words. Stupid heart, you think to yourself, reacting like that even though he didn't do anything much. Though that changes the moment his fingers come in contact with the flesh on your thigh as he places the bandaid on your scraped knee, brushing over it with his hand to secure it in place and at the same time, making sure that your heart gets no rest. His touch feels strangely comforting, even though he's just barely grazing your skin with the tip of his fingers. The warmth that spreads through your body at his actions disappears way too quickly when he finishes putting on the bandaid, pulling away and looking up, finally meeting your gaze.

But he definitely chose the worst moment to do so, because the look in your eyes evidently gives up what you were thinking about just a mere second ago. Who you were thinking about, that is. A moment passes by and you can't read his expression, but then a smile tugs at his lips and he gazes at you in a way that has you feeling lightheaded, head spinning in the best way possible.

But that is nothing compared to the way you feel when he stands up, moving his face so close to yours that you're breathing the same air and bringing his hands up to caress your cheeks. His gaze flickers from your eyes to your lips, and then back again, but you can't seem to gather your thoughts enough to even focus on one part of him, eyes taking in every bit of his beauty that they can gather. Your breathing is erratic and your face is burning up under his touch, heart banging against your chest and palms getting sweaty. You're warm, burning up almost, yet he manages to spread goosebumps all over your skin by just running his thumb over your lower lip, looking down on you like he's waiting for your permission.

And though it's almost embarrassing just how quick you're willing to give it to him, you don't really care at that moment. All you can think about is him – his eyes, nose, and lips that you want to kiss. So you move closer, even if by just an inch, and you know he understands what you mean by it. And you're impatiently waiting for him to do something, so infatuated with him that you can't even think straight.

It's worth the wait, though, because as he leans in to connect his lips to yours, you feel happier than you've ever felt in your entire life.

It's perfect, the kiss – slow, soft and delicate, the movements of his lips gentle, like he doesn't want to scare you away. And he's perfect, too, with his fingers touching the skin off your cheeks, caressing it like it’s his dearest possession. Your tongues melt together in a perfect combination of bliss and desire, the whole world drowned out by the taste of his lips. He's the only thing you can feel in that moment – you’re breathing his perfume, getting completely lost in the sensation of his hand dropping down to your thigh, grazing it ever so slightly and making you gasp quietly into the kiss.

He’s never touched you like this before – with so much tenderness in his caress – and you love it. You love how all of his attention is on you, and how he’s taking his time, kissing you like it’s the last time. But you hope to God it’s not, because you’re not sure if you could’ve ever moved on with your usual life after feeling his lips on yours, taking every worry and doubt off of your mind.

Your noses bump into each other, breaking the kiss and it’s an empty feeling that fills you as he pulls away. But your misery is put to an end as you open your eyes and find him still there, only an inch or so away from you with a smile on his face. And it’s a real smile, a genuine one. Not a smirk or pitiful look. It’s just pure elation radiating off of him and it makes your heart swell in your chest.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

The words roll off of his tongue so easily that you would've thought that he'd just asked you for help on his homework; not confessed his feelings for you. Which, by the way, makes your heart stop by itself because one thing is being kissed by Choi Yeonjun – being told that he fancies you is another.

“What?”

“I think I'm in love with you,” He repeats, tone dead serious and the smirk you've grown to see on him nowhere to be found. You’re pretty sure your heart has stopped beating by now, mouth hanging open as you attempt to process what’s happening.“I smile when you're happy, I miss you when you're gone, I hate it when you're sad. And, most importantly, you make me want to become a better person. If that isn't love, I don't know what is.”

Saying that you’re left speechless would be an understatement. His words quite literally make your stomach do flips, your heart basically beating inside your throat. Part of you had dreamed of this, hoped that he actually cares about you, but it's hard to wrap your head around the fact that he's not kidding. That – for the first time in his life, probably – he’s serious. And that he's awaiting an answer.

“You’re not gonna say anything?”

“Well, I’m sorry if I’m a little quiet after the school’s handsome fuckboy just told me he loves me, but it’s kind of shocking news,” You say sharply, furrowing your eyebrows when you see the smirk you know all too well spread itself across Yeonjun’s lips. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

His smile only widens as he leans down to place his face mere centimeters away from yours. For a moment, you think he's going to kiss you again, and you're about to close your eyes, but your plans are cut short when he starts speaking instead.

“So you think I’m handsome?”

You roll your eyes, half-disappointed and half-relieved that he didn't kiss you, because you're not sure whether you wouldn't have died of a heart attack if he did. “I think you’re annoying as fuck.”

“And you know what I think?” He leans forwards again, this time resting his lips against the shell of your ear and causing your breath to hitch as he speaks. “I think I’m making you nervous, sweetheart.”

You don't get to say anything – though you're not certain you would be able to, either – before his lips move to your jaw and he presses a soft kiss to the skin right below your ear. It makes goosebumps spread across your whole body and it doesn't exactly help that when he pulls away, he sends you the most knee-buckling smile paired with an outstretched hand to help you get off of the table. With slightly shaky hands, you reach for him, trying your best not to faint when he interlocks his fingers through yours. None of you bother to clean up the nurse’s office, walking through the school halls again, this time heading out.

“So,” Yeonjun says eventually, swaying your interlaced hands a little and by that, making butterflies swarm in your stomach. The grip he has on you is really annoying sometimes. “Will I get an answer? Do you feel the same way or do you not date people like me?”

You stop in your tracks, sighing softly as you turn to face, deciding that you can't hide from the question forever. Your gaze rests on your hands for a second as you gather your thoughts, before you actually look into his eyes, hoping that he can't see how anxious you are.

“I do. Feel the same way, I mean.” You take a deep breath before uttering the words that you wish you’d said sooner, because they'd been a lingering weight on your shoulders the past few days. “I think I’m in love with you, too, Yeonjun.”

“Good,” He smiles, letting go of your hand to bring his fingers to your cheek instead. “Because you have no idea just how long I've waited to do this.”

And just like that, his lips are on yours, hands caressing your cheeks so softly that it's a big contrast to the way he's kissing you eagerly. You're quick to reciprocate the actions, letting your mouths move in a steady rhythm as you slowly, but surely forget your surroundings, nothing but Yeonjun on your mind. He knows exactly what to do to make you crave more, with his hands just barely grazing your skin, leaving goosebumps on it. But when it comes to the kiss, he can't seem to hold back either, already pushing you against the wall in the hallway after only a few seconds.

You wince a little at the cold stone against your back, and instantly, he's pulling away to look at you worriedly. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” You reply, not bothering to explain what happened, because your lips are already aching to kiss him. So you put your hand on the back of his neck to pull him closer, capturing his lips in a messier, needier, but just as euphoric kiss.

Yeonjun most certainly enjoys this new side of you, smiling into the kiss as his hand comes down to touch your thigh, making you gasp. Naturally, he takes this opportunity to slip his tongue inside your mouth, and pretty quickly you're met with the taste of cigarettes and something more subtle – the taste of him. It's addicting, all of it. His taste, his touch, his smell. And he knows perfectly well how lightheaded he's making you feel when his fingers move higher up your thigh, touching the hem of your skirt now.

“Can I?” He pulls away to ask, motioning towards his hand that is on its way to slip under your skirt.

You waste no time in letting him know just how much you want him, pressing your lips to his instead of responding and guiding his hand further up your thigh, until it rests against your already damp panties. He smiles into the kiss again, running his knuckles over your clothed core, satisfied as you audibly moan into his mouth. Words can't explain how many emotions that are stirring up in your mind at this moment, but uncertainty most definitely isn't one of them. So much is evident in the way you're grabbing onto his hair, whining when his fingers run over the thin, and almost completely soaked through, fabric of your panties.

This is so new to you, but so amazing, too. It feels like heaven to have him touching you like this, to have him looking at you so lovingly, and yet so passionately.

You can't stop the small noises from leaving your mouth when Yeonjun’s fingers start drawing small circles on your clothed pussy, your panties rubbing against your heat and creating a pleasant friction. He's not kissing you now, having pulled away to look at your features and listen to all the sounds that you make at the smallest touches. Even as he pulls his hand away, you whine for him, bucking your hips a little so as to not lose the sensation.

“You’re so cute,” He coos, fingers tilting your chin upwards the moment you try to look away from him, embarrassed. “This little is enough to get you so needy.”

Before you get to say anything, his lips travel to your jaw and then your neck, spilling kisses across your skin. You gasp when he sucks on the flesh, hard enough to leave a mark, before his mouth moves upwards again, resting against the shell of your ear.

“Let’s go somewhere else, though, okay, princess?” He whispers into your ear. “This isn't exactly the ideal place to… you know.”

And just like that, his touch is gone and you're allowed to calm down a little, though the heat between your legs doesn't disappear so easily. You fix your skirt a little, a little embarrassed after turning into a whining mess for him so quickly, but he doesn't seem to mind – a bright smile on his face, so you only smile back at him and grab his outstretched hand.

“I thought you didn't have a problem fucking girls on campus, though?” You inquire as he leads you through the hall, his hand warm in yours.

“No, but I do have a problem with not taking the girl I love to my house before fucking her brains out.”

These words both cause your heart to swell and your pussy to throb painfully from between your thighs. Now you’re definitely convinced that Yeonjun’s goal in life is to make your blood pressure rise to dangerous levels. How can he say he loves you and that he wants to fuck you in the same sentence? You might have already kissed him and had his hand between your legs, but that doesn’t change the fact that your knees threaten to give in when he winks at you and continues walking like nothing even happened.

“Wow, you're really good at this boyfriend stuff for being a fuckboy,” You tell him when you’re sure your voice won’t quiver, and you’re surprised to find an even wider grin on his face when you turn to look at him.

“Oh, so I'm your boyfriend?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you, and you scoff in response, rolling your eyes to assure that he doesn’t notice how your heart skips a beat.

“Shut up,” You say, but there’s no annoyance in your voice. “Yes, you're my boyfriend, happy now?”

“Yes,” You feel your whole face heat up when he presses a kiss to your cheek before the two of you finally reach his car, and he opens the door for you. “Very happy.”

—

After a few kisses and a drive that lasted only a few minutes, but felt like an eternity because of the throb between your legs and Yeonjun’s warm hand that rested on your thigh the entire time, the two of you finally arrive in front of the block in which you assume Yeonjun, your boyfriend, lives. God, it feels so weird to call him that. And to think he was a complete stranger to you less than a month ago. Now, though, you're wishing he'll never let go of your hand and your cunt is throbbing with excitement as he leads you up the stairs to his apartment.

You’ve barely made it through the doorway before Yeonjun’s slamming the door shut and pushing you against it, just like he did in the school hall earlier. Only this time, he's not holding back – his hands slipping under your shirt with ease, finding your tits and his mouth attaching itself to your neck. You let a few sounds escape your mouth when he runs his tongue over your skin, before sucking on it harshly. You're about to comment on his actions, say that he must really be into marking, but the words get lost in your throat when he rolls his hips into yours.

“Oh,” You're both fully clothed, but that doesn't make the tent in his pants any less obvious as it rests against your thigh.

Yeonjun’s expression turns into a frown immediately, and he’s quick to pull away and look at you in concern. “Are you okay? Do you want to stop?”

“What? No,” You shake your head a little too eagerly, though you suppose your irrational actions could be excused due to the intensity of the situation. You are about to get railed by the one and only Choi Yeonjun, after all. “No, I'm just worried, you know, like, it won't fit.”

The worry in his eyes dissolves at your words, replaced with a hint of amusement and cocky grin that makes your knees grow weak. You wonder whether you just should've kept your mouth shut, because what you said seems to have inflated his ego even more. Still, you don't exactly get to ponder that for long because before you know it, his hand is caressing your cheek, thumb swiping over your lower lip and you're already feeling dizzy. That dizziness all but intensifies when he leans down to let his mouth hover over your ear, barely grazing it as he speaks.

“I’ll make it fit, then.”

And just like that – as if he didn’t just knock the air out of your lungs – he grabs your hand and leads you further into his house.

As you walk inside, you're met with a simple interior – a living room connected to the kitchen and two doors, one probably leading to the bathroom, while the other to his bedroom. What surprises you the most is the clean state of the apartment. You would've mistaken it for something he'd rented out for one night if it weren't for the unwashed dishes and a pair of boxers lying on the floor by the couch. His bedroom isn't very different – a few shirts are scattered on the floor, but his bed is made and he's got a shelf full of books.

“Wouldn’t have taken you for someone this organized,” You comment with a smile, “You’re good at keeping this place clean, for sure.”

“Well, I'm good at a lot of things,” He purrs as his hands grab your waist and pull your body close to his, nose brushing over yours and his breath hot on your lips. Just like that, he's reminded you of why you're here and your stomach stirs in excitement as you speak in a quivering tone.

“Yeah? Like what?”

A smile sets on his features and he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, eyes fanning down to your lips for only a moment before they meet yours. Your breath gets caught in your throat yet again when he teasingly runs a finger down your collarbones, before he lets it run over your arm and hip. Finally, it rests on your upper thigh, so close to your clothed cunt that if you moved your hips a little forward, his fingers would brush over the fabric of your panties. You don't have to do that, though, because a mere second later, the palm of his hand is pressed flat against your clit and you whimper loudly from the feeling.

“Like stuffing this cute little pussy full of my cum.”

And as if to mark his words, he starts rubbing his hand against your cunt, slowly drawing circles on the thin fabric of your panties which are now so wet that you fear your arousal will start to drip from them and onto your thigh. Yeonjun seems to notice this, too, because before you know it, he's pushing you onto his bed and spreading your legs, eyeing your cunt hungrily.

“So fucking wet,” He says, pushing your panties aside and pressing a finger flat against your pussy, moving it up and down painfully slowly. “Tell me, are you always this needy, baby?”

“Just–” Your reply is replaced by a whimper when he starts moving his finger faster, now also paying attention to your clit. Upon seeing his awaiting expression, you inhale sharply, trying to gather your thoughts, though that isn't very easy when Yeonjun is smearing your arousal all over your cunt. “Just for you.”

Satisfied, he smiles down on you, albeit a little condescendingly, and you take that as an opportunity to buck your hips upwards to create a little bit more friction. That doesn't seem to be Yeonjun’s plan, though, because he's quick to push your hips down again, a disapproving look on his face. You're about to complain, but before you can do that, he delivers a slap to your pussy that makes you whimper and your thighs instinctively start to close.

“Yeonjun,” You whine as he pryes your thighs apart again, still teasing you with the way he's slowly rubbing your clit, fingers barely grazing it as he does so. His touch is featherlight and you need more, or else you're certain you're going to go insane. “Please…”

“God, you're so cute when you're needy,” He coos, hand slipping under your shirt to play with one of your tits. “Now, be a good girl and let me take care of you, okay?”

You nod vigorously, and he pinches your nipple slightly before his fingers start working faster on your clit. The sudden change in pace makes your back arch and you can't hold back the moans that slip from your lips when he pushes one of his fingers inside of your pussy. His hand that is caressing your breast moves to stroke your hair as he adds another finger, stretching you out and making you clench around his digits. He's pushing them in and out of you quickly now, hitting all the right spots and definitely enjoying how you're moaning his name.

“More, please, it feels so good,” You basically cry out, rolling your hips against his hand.

This time, he doesn't tease you anymore, moving his hands to your thighs as he leans down to press an open-mouthed kiss to your clit. You whimper softly at the contact, bucking your hips up again, although your movements come to an end as he licks a stripe up your pussy, before twirling his tongue over your clit. Moaning his name, you grab at the sheets, probably ruining them in the process. Not that you care right now, because with his two fingers pumping in and out of you and his mouth sucking on your clit, it's hard to focus on anything else.

“Too much, Yeonjun, it's too much,” You whimper, grabbing at his hair, half pulling him closer, half pushing him away.

He only smiles against your folds, tongue plunging deep inside of you to replace his fingers that are now rubbing your clit quickly. One look down is enough to see that at this point, his sheets are stained with your arousal, and your pussy tightens around him at the sight. You can feel him smile into your cunt, his nose rubbing against your clit.

“Too much? If this is too much, then how are you going to handle my cock, baby?” He mumbles against your pussy and you shiver, clenching and unclenching around his tongue.

It doesn't take long before the familiar feeling of rapture stirs up in your stomach, and you know you're close to your orgasm. Yeonjun has no trouble understanding that you're about to cum from the way your hands are grilling at his hair and whimpers are leaving your mouth in series. He does nothing to slow down his movements, though, actually speeding up the way he's lapping at your pussy, his tongue reaching places you didn't even know was possible and his hand holding your hips in place so you can't move away, even when the pleasure becomes too much to handle and you're whimpering his name.

“Yeonjun, please, I–” Your voice breaks into a moan as his teeth graze your clit, and you're basically squirming under him now, thighs shaking with every lick at your pussy. “Gonna cum.”

The knot in your stomach tightens quickly, and when you're at the very edge, you pull at Yeonjun’s hair harshly to bring him as close to your dripping cunt as possible, eyes rolling to the back of your head. It's completely over for you the moment he groans into your pussy, pleasure spreading across your body like wildfire when you reach your high, a loud moan falling from your lips and your eyes screwed shut.

You stay like that for a few seconds, catching your breath, and when you finally open your eyes you’re met with a sight that instantly makes your swollen cunt start throbbing again – namely Yeonjun licking his fingers clean of your juices, a smirk on his face the moment he catches your captivated gaze.

“You taste like fucking candy, baby,” He says, moving up so his face is at your level and he can press a kiss to your jaw before he whispers directly into your ear. “If I could, I’d eat you out for hours on end, but I suppose there are other things we need to take care of first, hmm?”

You would be lying if you said he wasn’t getting you all riled up again, your pussy already acquiring its own heartbeat when you feel his hard-on pressed up to your thigh. It's straining against his pants like crazy now, and he thinks he's going to go insane if he has to hear your pretty moans again without stuffing your pussy with his cock first. Luckily, you’re thinking the same thing, tugging at his collar a little with a pout on your face as you speak.

“Yeonjun…” Your voice is shivering – there’s no doubt that you’re feeling fucked out from your recent orgasm, but that doesn’t prevent you from grinding your hips against his leg that he’s resting between your thighs. “Want your cock, please.”

Yeonjun can feel his cock twitch in his pants at your words and it only takes him a glance at your fucked out expression to give you exactly what you want – his hands coming up to help you unbutton his shirt before he discards it somewhere on the floor. Next to go are his jeans and boxers, and you can't help the way your eyes grow wide when he finally lets his dick spring free.

He’s big, and even though you knew that already, it creates a pool of arousal between your legs. You don’t even try to hide that the sight of him is turning you on, your eyes traveling around his naked body so shamelessly that you could’ve never done it if it weren’t for your current state of desperation.

You want him. Bad. And you know he knows it, too, because soon enough, he’s smirking as he hovers above you again, his breath hot on your face and his bare cock resting against your skin enough to make you feel lightheaded.

“Yeah? My fingers weren’t enough, you want my cock, too?”

You nod vigorously – it's the best response you can give at this point. Luckily for you, he doesn’t demand for you to use your words this time, instead positioning himself at your entrance straight away, the tip of his cock grazing your clit. Biting your lip, you send him a pleading look, but he only grins back, dragging his cock up and down your folds. You whimper when it rubs against your clit, throwing your head back in pleasure and grabbing at the sheets again. It feels good, but you need more of him, so you thrust your hips up to meet his, the amused look on his face telling you that he does this just to mess with you.

“Please, Yeonjun, more.”

He gives into your pleas this time, enjoying the way you whine when he removes his cock from your clit, only to reposition himself at your entrance and push into you slowly. You gasp at the feeling of being stretched out, his cock already making you feel full and you clench around him, drawing a soft groan from his mouth. You’ve barely gotten used to the feeling of him inside of you before he continues entering you – making you realize that he was merely halfway earlier.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” He mutters, hands tightening on your hips and you realize he’s resisting the urge to move.

It’s painful, the stretch, and it basically has you gasping for air when he bottoms out, your walls sucking him in and tightening around him in a way that allows you to feel every part of his cock clearly. He waits for you to get used to him, one hand slipping under your bra to play with your breast, soft fingers running over your nipple and making you arch your back, pushing your chest against his hand.

“You-” You begin, cut off by the way he pinches your nipple, making you whimper, the sound bringing a smirk to his features. “You can move now.”

And move he does, thrusting into you slowly, but strongly enough to make your eyes roll to the back of your head, mouth falling open and moans spilling out of it.

“Yeah? Feels good?” He asks, moving in and out of you leisurely, seemingly unfazed by the way you're clenching around him like crazy.

“Mhmm,” You moan in response, pulling him closer to you with your legs.

He takes the close proximity as an opportunity to move his hand from your chest to your jaw, moving it to the side so that he can lean down to press kisses to your neck. The movement makes his dick sink further into your wet cunt, and it has you closing your eyes, whimpering. His lips suck marks into your sensitive skin, nose running over those he left on your neck earlier while he keeps thrusting into you, now with the palm of his hand pressing down on your clit.

You spread your legs wider for him when he starts rubbing your clit, and he smiles against the skin of your neck before pressing one kast kiss to it, pulling away. He's looking down on you now, watching your tits bounce with every deep thrust, your vision cloudy already. The lewd sounds your pussy makes when he slides in and out are enough to make him twitch inside of you, aching to move faster, and your moans are exactly what prompts him to do just that.

He speeds up, his hand positioning your leg higher on his hip so he can pound into you from a deeper angle as he watches your face contorted in pleasure. You're grabbing onto his shoulders for dear life as he fucks you into the mattress, your head turned away and your lip between your teeth to muffle the embarrassingly loud moans and whimpers you're letting out.

“Look at me,” Yeonjun’s not having any of it, fingers sinking into the soft skin of your cheeks as he turns your head so you're forced to look at him. “You wanted me to fuck this pussy so bad and now you can't even look at me while I do it?”

It's shameful how you instantly clench around his cock when he says that, but he seems to enjoy how you react to him, fingers gripping your jaw tighter as his thrusts manage to become somehow deeper. He's making you see starts with the way his hand moves from your jaw to your throat, fingers wrapped around it as he splits you open with his cock. Your thighs are starting to shake, the knot in your stomach tightening and there's no point in attempting to hold your moans back – they manage to escape past your lips anyway.

“I’m close,” You warn him, but it sounds more like a whimper than a sentence.

This only fuels him on, his fingers working wonders on your clit while his dick reaches sensitive places you didn't know existed. You're basically drooling onto his hand now, vision hazy and whole body trembling with pleasure. The feeling of fullness is making you dizzy, making it hard to make out coherent thoughts.

“That’s it, keep taking all I give you like the good girl you are,” He groans, his cock twitching inside of your cunt. “Nobody takes it as well as you.”

You let out a loud, broken moan as you teach your high, nails digging into his shoulders and pussy clenching around his dick. Not a moment later, he's shooting his load inside of you, filling you up with his cum as you moan his name repeatedly, eyes rolled to the back of your head from the pleasure. A moment passes by for you to catch your breaths, before he's pulling out to lay down next to you.

You’re left feeling a little empty, but it doesn't matter the second Yeonjun’s arms come to pull you in for a hug. Your head rests in the crook of his neck, eyes still screwed shut as you listen to his heartbeat, and you're pretty sure it's the prettiest sound you've ever heard in your entire life. It's steady and loud against your ear, and his hot breath hitting the top of your head feels comforting.

“You look so pretty like this,” You hear Yeonjun’s voice after a while, his hand coming up to stroke your hair. “So, so pretty.”

You fight the urge to leave your eyes closed – your exhaustion finally catching up to you after two orgasms – to look up at him, and it’s definitely worth it. He looks beautiful – even more than usually – with his hair sticking to his forehead, eyelids heavy and a sheepish smile on his face. You reciprocate the grin as he presses a kiss to the top of your head, before you're lying down on his chest again, sighing softly.

“Let’s stay like this forever.”

You can feel his chest rumble with the chuckle he lets out, before he picks your hair out of your face to whisper in your ear.

“I’d like nothing more.”

And you know he means it.

#ficscafe #choi yeonjun smut #yeonjun smut #txt smut #choi yeonjun x reader

5K notes · View notes