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pedrostylez · 1 month

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I’m Here When You Need Me

Joel Miller x f!reader One Shot

Warnings: Angst, feelings, longing, cheating on the readers part, Joel just wants you to be happy, high key hating reader’s husband, age gap mentioned (Joel is in his 50’s, no reader age), insecurities, mentions of body and working out, insecurities, nipple and breast play, fingering, dirty talk, unprotected piv sex ( wrap it people), oral f recieving, I think that’s it

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: this has had minimal edits and I’m posting from my phone so don’t be judging me!!!! Heed the warnings. I hope you guys enjoy 😊

He’s at it again, dreaming of you wrapped around him. Soft to the touch, warm and needy, just how he likes you.

The telltale sound of his phone wakes him from the comfort of his dreams, vibrating through the pillow to his ear. When he squints his eyes to see your name on the screen, his heart freezes for a moment. You don’t typically call, so it must be important. “Hello?” He sounds groggy, and he hears your pause before a deep sigh. He knows you feel bad for calling him, even though you knew he would be asleep. “What is it, baby?”

“Don’t call me that.” You hiss, breath coming quickly through the receiver, the sound of your teeth biting at your nail.

“Are you alone?” He asks, now sitting up in bed. He’s used to a rogue text here and there, asking if he’s home so that you can slip out while your husband is asleep, or at work. He’s never texted you first, never been the initiator except for the once when he first spotted you in the bar. But a phone call in the middle of the night? Unheard of.

“Yeah.” You sigh, frustration clear in your voice.

He frowns, rubbing at his chin and shuffling out of bed. “Door’s open, baby.” It slips out, and he winces, figuring you’ll correct him again. He can’t help it.

You don’t say anything about the nickname, just give him a quiet goodbye and an ETA.

He doesn’t bother to remake the bed, doesn’t bother to clean up anything. He used to; used to make sure all the dishes were done and that the floor was swept for you. He was embarrassed, a 50 something year old man still living alone and had somehow gotten your attention. He wanted to leave a good impression.

But after enough times of you storming in, how you would grab around the collar of his shirt and thrust yourself at him to feel something, to distract you from whatever issues you were having with him, he stopped worrying.

A habit he shouldn’t get into, but he knew you would come around again and again.

Joel flicks on the outside light, looking out the curtain briefly before sitting on the couch and turning on the TV. He keeps the sound low, listening for the sound of your truck to pull up next to his. His pants are low, riding just below the elastic band of his underwear, loose and warm under the flannel.

He sighs, switching the channel and scratching at his incoming beard. He doesn’t know what mood you’ll be in, what you’ll want, but trying to wake himself up after a long day on the job is all he can do to prepare for you.

The sound of your door slamming has him turning his head, listening to your sneakers shuffle on his brick pathway. The pause at his door, where he swears he can hear you take a deep breath before twisting the knob and letting yourself in.

Your hair, swept to one side and down, loose, wild, has his mouth upturned out of habit. He loves you wild. “Hey.”

“What’s going on?” He asks quietly, letting you shut his front door and slip your sneakers off. He doesn’t dare move, afraid that he might scare you off by being too concerned. You’re in your own set of pajamas, loose shirt and flannel pants with a sweatshirt zipped in the front.

When you sit beside him, you lean into him with your head on his chest. One, two, three big breaths leave your mouth as he wraps an arm around you. It gives you the courage to say what you came here for. “I don’t think he loves me.”

Joel’s heart sinks, the sound of your voice defeated. His arm squeezes around you, looking down to the crown of your head. “No, baby that’s not true.” It slips out again, and he closes his eyes to try and recenter himself. Stop calling her baby.

“He won’t even look at me anymore.” You say again, tilting your head to look Joel in the eye. You’ve accepted it, eyes not shimmering with sadness. “He says he wants me but…never initiates. It’s like I’m begging just for an ounce of attention.”

Joel holds his face neutral, his blood boiling. He wants you, he would give you the attention you deserve. He knows that’s why you’re here, that’s why you called–

“I don’t think he finds me attractive anymore.” You whisper, an uncommitted shrug before you bury your head back against his chest.

Joel rubs his hand up and down your back, looking up toward the TV for a moment. Reruns of Seinfeld, laugh tracks and a bright screen fill his senses. He keeps quiet, keeping his hand moving to reassure you before he says, “I think the world of you.”

You shake under his arm with a brief chuckle, resting your hand on his stomach and swirling, swirling, swirling your finger around his belly button.

He resists sucking his stomach in, knowing you’ll chastise him like you have before. He wants to hold you, body against body to prove to you how much he wants you. “Do you want to go lay down with me?” He asks quietly, feeling your hair slide away from his arm as you pull away from him.

“Sure.” You reach for the remote, clicking off the screen and unzipping your sweatshirt. You turn to him, smirking as you step in the direction of his bedroom. “Just to sleep?”

“If that’s what you want.” Is his immediate answer. It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve come to his door just wanting to fall asleep on his chest; he wouldn’t mind it in the least, just to have you next to him.

But the way you smile, the way your eyes shimmer with want, he knows that isn’t what will be happening.

No, not when he turns off all the lights and heads to the bedroom and finds you already under the covers. Your quiet voice asking him to turn off the lights is new, but he obliges.

He fumbles to the bed, getting under the covers and hearing your giggle when you reach for his hand and place it on your breast. He laughs as well, swiping his thumb back and forth over your nipple until it is taunt, peaked against the pads of his fingers. He presses his mouth to your jaw, lightly pinching to hear your whimper against his ear.

He sighs happily, groaning when your fingers wrap around his cock through his pajamas. Your hands are warm, pressing heat into him in ways he misses when you’re gone. He lets his fingers drift down your side, counting your ribs quietly to himself. “Let me see you, baby?” He inquires, letting his lips run down the column of your throat, pressing deeply into the curve of your collarbone.

He feels your tension, the way you freeze for only an instant before going back to your loosened and easy going movements. “What? Don’t like surprises?” You question, squeezing your hand around the head of him briefly before pushing down his pants.

He springs free, your fingers lightly dancing down his shaft making him groan. He wants to tell you that it’s not that he doesn’t like surprises, but he wants to watch you. He looks down, blankets haphazardly in the way, only giving him a peek at what your hand is doing around him.

It feels like heaven, your hand with small calluses at the base of each finger. The smoothness of the rest, silky and enticing pumping up and down, your thumb swiping at the weeping hole to spread some of the wetness around.

He moves the sheet out of the way, letting his eyes trail to your chest before looking up at you as his tongue pokes out, circling the same nipple from before. Your mouth opens in awe, eyes fluttering shut and head thrown back. “J-Joel–”

“Let me see you.” He’s muffled against your skin, flicking his tongue against you and letting his fingers drift further and further down. Joel’s fingers brush over the hem of your underwear, and he can’t help the smile that grows on his face as you giggle. He knows it’s ticklish there, just as he dips his fingers into the humid skin beneath.

Your breath hitches, eyes opening more fully as he moves the blankets with his arm. He notices how you watch it, suddenly self conscious as your legs start to spread for him. “I’m cold, Joel.”

He pauses, letting only the knuckle of his first two fingers continue their movement under the strain of your underwear. You’re slick, his fingers easily moving over your clit with a laziness that he knows you like. You don’t want to be rushed-ever; it’s why you go to his place to begin with. “I’ll warm you up.”

“N-no.” You close your eyes, shaking your head as if falling out of this fantasy. “I want the blankets up here.”

Joel’s fingers pause now, head tilting up to you and frowning. He can see you more clearly now, his eyes having adjusted to the street lamps that filter through his curtains. You’re almost naked below him, frowning with your eyes downturned, looking toward his hand instead of his face. He brings his other hand up, tilting your chin to look directly at him. “What’s wrong, baby?”

You attempt at a scoff, but he’s not buying it. “I’m cold, I told you–”

“You know I think you’re beautiful, right?” He gruffs, frown going deeper as he sees you shake your head. “You know I like to see how you react, touch you, look at you. Why do you want to be covered?”

“I’ll just put my shirt back on.” You snarl, teeth coming out to bite as you lean over the side of the bed, reaching for the shirt you had tossed off before he followed you into the bedroom.

His fingers wrap around your wrist, pulling your arm back and holding you to the bed. Unable to roll, you wiggle under him, pulling your hand free to reach again. When he catches you again, you groan unhappily, getting into a pulling and pushing match with him.

He’s stronger than you, the creases in his forehead deepening as he let’s you get away enough times to tire you out, but not letting you escape his question. “Quit fightin’ me, and tell me what is going on.”

Your hands are secured to the pillows below you, breasts bouncing from the intensity of it and your deep breaths. He can’t help how his eyes trail down, wanting to look at you, but seeing you squirm uncomfortably.

You stay silent, glaring at him and then looking to the ceiling as if you’re just going to ignore the question. Joel sighs, annoyance bubbling up in him and trying to tamp it down. It clicks suddenly in his head, that something must have been said to you. “Why do you want to be covered?”

Your eyes trail back to his, your furrowed brow slowly relaxing, the tension in your arms reducing to where Joel releases his grip and lets his fingers trail down to hold your torso. His hands wrap around you, his thumbs stroking at the soft skin under each breast. He’s not sure if your eyes are shimmering with tears, or if it is just a trick in the light when you say, “He…he asked if I had been working out lately.” You swallow, shaking your head. “A-and when I said no, he…he said ‘that’s obvious.’”

Joel’s breath comes quickly, his fingers subconsciously digging into your skin to hold himself steady. He said what? He can’t help but stare at you, waiting for more to come, but you just stare back with a slow buildup of tears in your lash line.

Another moment of silence before you’re sniffling, bringing a hand up to cover your eyes as if embarrassed. Joel releases you as he feels your body shutter, pulling the blankets up around you both and moving his fingers to cradle your head. He lets his dull nails scratch at your scalp, shushing and cooing at you until you’re pressed against him, naked skin on skin in a humid cloud under his blankets.

He lets you cry; it’s the first he’s really ever seen you do so since meeting you. You’ve always been strong, secure and confident in how you present yourself. He found it off putting, in some ways-he had never been with a woman that didn't need him. He was used to being the provider. But you’d always taken care of yourself, came and went as you pleased, and didn’t ask for anything else.

His heart swells with want. “You’re alright baby, I’ve got you.” He husks, moving his fingers to the back of your neck and massaging at the tense muscles there. “He’s a fucking moron, you know that don’t you? You’re beautiful, you’ve got me wrapped around your finger.”

You shake your head, tears having stopped and a small smile making its way across your face. “No I don't, Miller.”

“You do.” He relents, tilting his head down to look at you again. Red eyes and wet lashes, but otherwise okay. His thumb runs under your eyes, absorbing tears from your face almost instantly. “He shouldn’t be speaking to you that way.”

You roll your eyes. “It’s not a big deal. He’s right, it’s probably why our marriage isn’t going great.”

“That’s not true.” He says immediately, letting his thumb drift to your lower lip and pull it down briefly. “You think your marriage isn’t going well because he doesn’t find you attractive?”

“Among other things.” You sigh, now back to your previous demeanor. Your fingers are dancing over his chest, swirling his chest hair around. “Joel, it’s fine.”

“It’s not.” He argues. “You’re someone any decent man would want. How can he just–”

“Please just, let’s move on.” You cut him off, pressing a flat palm firmly into his chest.

He closes his mouth, breathing heavily through his nose to calm himself down from giving a full lecture. He wants you to understand, to hear him fully. You deserve better than what you have.

You both lay there silently for a moment, just breathing together and not moving. He keeps his eyes on yours, watching yours flick down to his mouth and feeling the way you minutely move towards him. He doesn’t dare move, wanting you to be the one that initiates.

Your hand is gentle against his lower stomach, gliding down again to his now softened cock. It stirs, easy to respond to you. Joel stops your hand, wrapping his fingers around your wrist. “Is this what you want?”

“Yes.” You’re breathy, pupils having gone wide as he lets go of your wrist. It doesn’t take him long to get hard again with how you move your hand, his mind both empty and racing with thoughts.

When you roll on to your back, offering a silent invitation for him to get on top, he’s eager to let his legs tangle with yours and settle between your thighs. He presses his mouth to your collarbone, trailing down below the blanket as you wished for before, his tongue peeking out when he gets to your core.

You sigh happily when his tongue meets your clit in slow, agonizing circles. He prefers to watch you when he does this, eyes up on your face as his tongue swoops back and forth, over and over the hood of your clit until you’re squirming and reaching down to fist at his hair. He likes watching your neck shine with a thin layer of sweat, the way your hair begins to stick to your face and your eyes closing tightly to just feel him.

But right now he’s below the covers, holding one leg down and open to better feast on his meal, the other reaching up and intertwining his fingers with yours. The hand not in his must be bracing yourself against his headboard, your moans muffled by the sheets and blankets surrounding him.

He lets his tongue dip into you, squeezed briefly by your walls and the yelp you let out makes him chuckle. You never expect the first intrusion, spreading your legs wider to let his shoulders be flat against you, his laugh vibrating against your skin.

He continues this pattern, dipping into you with his tongue, circling your clit, and back again. He doesn’t know how long it goes on for, over and over to the point that he’s closed his eyes to feel you instead of watching you. His cock is hard between his legs, pressing against the end of his mattress and begging to be touched by your hand.

There’s a gust of cool air as you lift the sheet away from him, tossing it to the cold side of the bed and reaching down to his hair. He groans again, missing the feeling of your hand on any part of him, and he winces at the tug you give.

You’re pulling him up, wanting his lips on yours and for him to cover you. He obliges, pressing his lips to yours and grabbing at your thighs to lift around his middle. It would be embarrassing, how hard he is for you right now, pressed to your center and grinding against the slick that he left there, but he can’t care right now.

You want him, and that’s his priority; keeping you wanting him.

“Taste so sweet, baby. You want a little?” He says gently against your lips, pressing into your again and letting his tongue sweep into your mouth. You moan, a high and breathy sound that he loves. “That’s right, you like that, don’t you?”

He waits for your nod of approval, how you lunge for his mouth again and happily kiss his lips and jaw as he adjusts his hips to better line himself up with your center. “Joel, please, get inside me already.”

“Impatient.” He mumbles, smirking at you and tilting his head to bite at your ear. He knows you’re ticklish there, wanting to hear your laugh another time before he fills you and loses all sense of himself inside you.

He feels you tilt your hips for him, letting your half-lidded eyes meet his. The head of his cock weeps, aching to be inside you. Joel moves himself to let his head rest against your waiting entrance, beginning the slow slide in.

He can’t stop the thoughts in his mind, racing around in circle. I love you. I love you. I love you.

Once fully seated inside, you both groan in unison, his arms strained to pull away just enough to look down to where you both are connected. “Fuck.” He bites out, looking back up to your face and letting one hand rest on your jaw. “You’re so fucking perfect around me.”

“Joel, move honey.” You whine, reaching out to his shoulders and pulling him back to you. Your nails dig into the taunt muscle, the feeling soothing him.

Honey.

You don’t call him that unless you’re in a different headspace–where you forget the circumstances of why you’re here. It was difficult early on for Joel to get you to relax, even though the act itself made you like putty in his hands. No, he focused on you mentally relaxing, truly forgetting your worries. When you were like this, he could say what he meant. “You’re so perfect baby.” He strains, thrusting into you at a slow and methodical pace. His hips press into the backs of your thighs, his fingers holding around your jaw tighter. “So fucking wet, you wanted this, huh? Wanted me to fuck you like this?”

You nod as he speeds up, the sound of your skin slapping against his now more prominent, the frame of the bed creaking quietly behind it. I love you. I love you. I love you.

He has to stop himself from saying it. The first time he had, he thought it would be the end of whatever the two of you had going. It had slipped out over six months ago, on your way out the door after riding him on the couch.

“I love you.” He had said quietly, watching you redress after climbing off of him.

You turned to him, a half smile on your face. “No, you don’t.” You said simply, waving at him and going on your way. He didn’t expect you to call him after that, and was shocked when just the next night you were on his doorstep waiting for him after work.

And now you’re below him, and just as every time before after that first admission, he wants to say it again. You’re crying out, asking him to come instead of announcing you’re going to, and he speeds up his movements. “You wanna finish around my cock?” He asks, his voice unrecognizable. “I’ll let you, go ahead baby. Let me see it.”

You nod, tears brimming your eyes again for a different reason than before. He feels you tighten in waves around him, sucking him in further as he tries to hold himself back. Joel continues to pump his hips, his lower back tingling with his own release ready.

“J-Joel–” you moan, digging your nails deeper into his shoulder. “Come inside me, pl-please.”

He grunts, forgetting himself and pushing forward with a whine he’s never heard leave his mouth. His eyes close as his come coats your walls, warm and welcoming of it. Joel rests his forehead against yours, sweaty skin pressed to sweaty skin, smiling down at you and breathing heavily. “Fuck baby–”

“Don’t call me that, honey.” You tease, eyes fluttering shut and an award winning smile spreading across your face.

He pulls out, wincing at how tight you are around him still, resting on his side and letting his arm wrap around your middle. “Stay?” He asks quietly, watching you turn your head and opening your eyes to look at him.

You think for a moment. “I need to clean up, and then I’ll decide.”

He grunts in disapproval, letting you slip out of his grasp and step into the ensuite bathroom. The light blinds him briefly, your ass the only thing he can see as you lean over the sink to get a closer look in the mirror. Joel props his head up, watching as you push up on the balls of your feet to get closer, your arms coming out to the door frame and leaning over to look at him. “Do you have wipes?”

He had bought some after the first few times of you being there, asking every time if he had any. He had got you to say what brand they were, and he kept them stocked now. “First drawer on the right.”

You hum happily, pulling out a face wipe and turning back to him, watching him as you scrub at your forehead and cheeks. “Did you want to clean up?”

He shakes his head. “Want to keep you on me, if you don’t mind?”

You smirk, rolling your eyes as if you don’t care. When you finish, you flick the light off and walk toward the bed, Joel blinded briefly from the change in light. “Where’d you go, baby?”

“I’m here.” You whisper, shifting the bed as you climb in and pull the covers from the other side to cover you both. You’re still naked, now cooled skin against him. “I’ll stay, if that’s okay.”

“Of course.” He whispers back, smiling to himself and wrapping an arm around your shoulder. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, enjoying how you snuggle into his body and neck, fitting perfectly with him. “I’d let you stay as long as you want. You know that.”

You sigh, circling your fingers against his chest hair. “What if…” you trail off, fear taking hold of your voice in a way that makes Joel uncomfortable. He squeezes an arm around you, waiting. “What if I’m too scared to have things change?” You whisper, tensing in his arms.

Joel remains relaxed, his mind swimming with I love you, I love you, let me love you. He sighs, pressing another kiss to your head. “I’m here for when you need me, if you want me.” He says quietly, feeling you relax in his arms again.

Your eyelashes flutter against his skin, your breath slowing down and becoming deeper. As you fall asleep, Joel swallows harshly. He’s here when you need him, and it was never going to change.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller tlou

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littleskeletonprincessss · 7 months

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Here, have this

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"God, you're so annoying, y/n! You don't have any idea what you're fucking talking about!" Schlatt yelled, walking away from you and into the kitchen.

"Excuse me, Mr. I'm-too-busy-to-spend-even-a-second-with-my-girlfriend! It's not my fault you've taken on so much and stretched yourself so thin! You did this to yourself!"

It was the 5th night in a row where Schlatt had to call and tell you he 'had to work late' and 'sorry hon, rain check for dinner tonight'.

"Jesus Christ I am so tired of you nagging me all the time! You're always around, just leave me the fuck alone for once!"

"If that's how you feel then maybe we shouldn't even be together!"

"There's a bright idea. Nice to know you can have those every once in a while."

"Fuck you, Schlatt! We're done." You yelled, before grabbing your purse and walking out of his house.

Walking into your apartment, you let your purse drop to the floor and flopped onto your couch, leaning your head back, and letting out a loud sigh, releasing all the pent up anger you'd harbored on your angry drive home.

It unfortunately wasn't uncommon for you and Schlatt to get into arguments. They'd usually result in one of you storming out of the house, and either returning later that night to exchange apologies and end with rough, angy make up sex or returning the next day and deciding it'd be best for both of you if you took a break for a while.

This was the fourth time it'd happened, and you were tired of it. You loved Schlatt, you really did. But God was it exhausting to break up and get back together all the time. You knew that this wasn't what it was supposed to be like.

Deciding to call Schlatt in the morning you turned on your TV for the sole purpose of serving as background noise for you to numbly fall asleep to, preparing yourself for what would come in the morning.

-------

When you woke up, you briefly looked around your apartment before remembering the previous night's fight. You'd grown used to waking up in Schlatt's warm arms, his face buried in your neck from behind, so it was almost a strange feeling to be cold and alone.

Looking at the clock it read 10:30. Schlatt would probably be awake, most likely editing again. You pressed the call button on his contact half expecting him not to answer.

"Hey."

"I think we need to talk."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Coffee?"

"Yeah. I can be there in 20."

"See you then."

You left only a few minutes later after running your fingers through your hair and brushing your teeth, making yourself look somewhat presentable, and almost subconsciously walked to the coffee shop down the street, a place that had quickly become of favorite of yours and Schlatt's.

Looking around and not seeing him yet you at a table by the door, watching it and gently scratching your arms as a distraction from the way you were feeling.

Schlatt walked in and after briefly meeting your eyes sat silently across from you. It was obvious how little either of you wanted to be there right now, and it looked like neither of you wanted to speak first.

"Schlatt, we can't keep doing this."

Taking a deep breath, Schlatt muttered a defeated "I know."

"I think we need to break up. For good this time."

He sat silent for a long pause, staring at the fingers he was tapping on table.

"Whatever." he finally said, quickly standing up and leaving the coffee shop without another word or glance your way.

You sat for a bit, letting what had happened sink in. That was it. Wiping away the trapped tears that were making your eyes burn and throat hurt you left as well, walking the opposite way that Schlatt had, to your apartment, heartbroken and alone.

----------

It'd been a week. There were no texts, no calls, nothing exchanged between either of you. Schlatt hadn't posted anything, which surprised you. He had been trying to be more consistent with it. You posted a memory on Instagram and he wasn't among the notifications of likes like he normally would be.

This was foreign. You and Schlatt had started as friends before you'd gotten together the first time. You'd never gone longer than a couple days without any sort of contact, and that was only because he'd had to go back home and had forgotten his phone charger.

Your kitchen counters were littered with pizza boxes, food wrappers, bottles, you hadn't been bothered to cook anything or clean anything up. You could stand for a shower, shown evident by the greasy knot on top of your head and the thin layer of grime that had settled on your skin. Snotty and tear soaked tissues blanketed your living room floor. You were sinking and there was no one that could pull you up.

"I'm so pathetic" you whispered to yourself, looking at your smelly clothes and dirty surroundings. "I can't just sit here anymore." you resolved, standing up before moving to the bathroom to shower and start putting your life back in order.

------------

A few hours later you were tying the last garbage bag, your apartment, and you, looking leagues better than they had earlier..

A knock on your door pulled your attention away from cleaning. You hadn't ordered anything and your neighbors weren't usually the kind to stop by for anything.

Opening the door you were surprised by what you saw.

"Schlatt?"

There he stood, nearly filling your door frame with his large frame. He was unshaven, and his outfit looked about how yours had this morning, wrinkly and disheveled. But what surprised you was that he was crying. In all the time you'd known him, as a friend or a boyfriend, you'd never seen Schlatt cry.

But here he was, on your door step, big brown eyes watery with unshed tears, his nose running and red.

"Y/n" he choked out, voice rough from a combination of unuse and sobs.

Before you could say or do anything, Schlatt reached out and pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug and hiding his face in your neck.

"I'm so so sorry for how I was treating you recently. You were right, I'd been spending too much time away from you. But I'm gonna get better." He blubbered.

"Schlatt--" you started, before he cut you off.

"I am. I'm going to be so much better for you. I know I don't deserve you, Y/n, I know you deserve someone who's so much better than me, but I'm gonna be better for you. I love you so much, angel. I know, we've had our issues, and i've said things in the past, but none of it is true. You're it. You're it for me. I need you in my life, Y/n. This last week has been hell without you. God I can't even begin to explain how I felt in the coffee shop when you said we were done for good. My whole world came tumbling down. It hurt so, so much. And I know it hurt you too and i'm sorry that I pushed you to do that. Please, give me one more chance. Please."

He looked into your eyes after that speech, trying to find your response before you said it.

Letting out a small sigh you pulled him down into another hug, clearing your throat from the new wash of tears that came over you.

"I love you, Schlatt."

You could feel Schlatt let out a breath you knew he'd been holding before he held you even tighter than before, if it was possible.

"I love you. So much."

#schlatt #jschlatt #schlatt x reader #jschlatt x reader

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simsi45 · 9 days

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New lot I made showcased in the trailer and pics (found in the gallery under my tag @simsi45_mods) a recreation of Rachel Amber's house.

ABOUT THE LOT:

The lot will be eventually uploaded in the gallery once it passes its finishing stages. You will be able to find it in the gallery under my EA id: @simsi45_mods. I will update you all once it becomes available.

NOTES:

~ The pack is in an EARLY-ACCESS STATE! I have dedicated a lot of time to test everything but I'm a team of just a single person. If you find any issues please let me know so I can take a look.

~ Because of the amount of items the size of the pack is quite big. I tried my best to make everything as compact as possible with the final size being 1.5 GB of required free space.

~ The majority of the meshes and textures of these items are ripped straight from the LIS: Before the Storm game, and then each individual item (both mesh and textures) has been heavily modified and edited to fit and function properly within the Sims 4 game's engine. That's why some items will look identical to the original game, some look somewhat different, and some are brand new meshes I made using the original items.

~ Some of the original ripped meshes' poly counts were WAY too high so I had to lower the polygons so The Sims 4 wouldn't explode when filling a lot with them. I lowered the polygons and edited most of the items as much as possible without compromising their original look too much. In other words I tried to find the best balance between looks and performance and after lots of testing on my moderate PC system, I can confirm the game runs super smoothly on my end.

BACKSTORY ABOUT THE PACK (no spoilers):

This pack started with an idea I got back in 2017 when I first played Life Is Strange Before The Storm. When visiting the Amber house, I immediately fell in love with it as I am huge fan of the craftsman architectural style, it's literally all I'd want my dream house to be. The art team has done an incredible job on it, and as I personally find the art style of the Life is Strange series and The Sims 4 to fit very well with each other, I wanted to make these assets available for The Sims 4. Of course back then this all seemed impossible, however a few years later in 2020 during quarantine I revisited the idea as it had been stuck on my wishlist ever since.

To make a long story short, this project has been in the works for about 3 years now, and after a lot of hard work, head scratching and quite a few sleepless nights I managed to overcome all the obstacles I came across (which were a lot mind you) and I'm honestly hoping you'll be as pleased with the results as I am. Seriously this exceeded my expectations as it started as a small little pack for my personal use, to what I'd consider an expansion pack's (or even more) worth of build/buy content.

INSTALLATION:

Due to the size of the pack I had to split it up into multiple parts. You will need a .RAR extractor unpack it. More specifically:

1 -> Download ALL 6 parts of the pack and put them ALL in the same folder. 2 -> Right click the 1st part .RAR file named "Simsi45 - The Sims 4 Amber House Pack.part1" and click "Extract Here" 3 -> Once that's finished a package file will appear, this is the entire pack and you can now move that into The Sims 4/Mods. Simple as that!

CREDITS & THANKS:

~Dontnod, Square Enix, Deck Nine for the original meshes & textures ripped from Life is Strange: Before the Storm that were used to create most of the items.

~EA for some meshes & textures used to convert some items from The Sims 2.

Special thank you to all the patreon members that stuck with me throughout me developing the pack. Although not many I really appreciate every single one of you for the support you've given me and for sticking around!

103 notes · View notes

builtbybrokenbells · 8 months

Text

Gold Dust Woman | vi

Y/n quickly learns how to atone for a mistake that she was not aware she ever made.

Read part five here

Pairing: jake kiszka x f!reader, sam kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 18k (sorry 😭)

Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex (borderline hate fucking 🫣), oral (m!receiving), oral (f!receiving, face-fucking, fingering, choking, impact play, degradation, praise, edging/orgasm denial, overstimulation, dirty talk, dom/sub, touch of bratty sub, sex in a semi-public place, possessiveness, jealousy, love triangle themes, swearing, touch of sadness/angst, but this is mostly just porn with a hint of plot. Sorry if I miss any!

hello everyone, it’s so wonderful to be back 😁 thank you for all of your kind words so far 🫶🏻 please enjoy, be kind, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes! this very is lightly edited

Three days. It had been three long, gruelling days since you had heard a word from Jake. Worse than that, it had been three days since you had even heard a faint whisper of his name, or a withering idea that he still existed on the same realm as you. No calls, no texts, not even a glimpse of him in public, hidden away in a corner of his most favourite stores. Not even a wisp of hair blowing as he rounded a street corner. No likes on social media posts; he was not even lurking in the comment section of mutual friends pages. He had ceased to exist, and as much as you liked to pretend that it didn’t bother you, it was excruciating. So much so, that you’d found yourself withdrawn from the normal day to day routine, floating through with no real enjoyment. You were constantly checking your phone or getting excited when you heard a notification, only to be crushed at the realization that it wasn’t him. You found yourself absentmindedly checking for him in every room you entered, every street or store you found yourself in, and every single time you left the house.

The agony of missing him extended far beyond the simple fact of the matter. It leeched into every aspect of your life in the most twisted and rotten ways. Simple pleasures no longer existed; the beauty in song sounded with less comfort, colours in paintings a little less vibrant, sugar a little less sweet. Sure, life would go on indefinitely, but it would be miserable, at least for the foreseeable future. Or, until he decided to grace you with his presence again. You braved the storm the only way you knew how: with a smile on your face, and no hint that anything was wrong in the first place. But, no matter how wide you smiled, or how sore your cheeks were from faking it, it never seemed to diminish the residual ache in your chest.

In truth, Jake was not the only one that disappeared. You had spoken to Danny only a number of times, which was incredibly unusual. He was busy in the studio, refining his drum work for the last touches on their album. When he wasn’t doing that, they were rehearsing for their upcoming tour. If that was finished, they were stuck in interviews and meetings. You knew he was genuinely busy, and in no way would he ever use it as an excuse to ignore you, but it did suck. He was your best friend, your home away from home, and missing him may also have had an effect on the way you missed Jake. You were lonely, and that was one thing you despised more than anything else in the world. Your stubbornness was stronger than your hatred of isolation, only worsening the suffering. Instead of reaching out to anyone, you waited until they had time to come back around. Your nagging fear of being forgotten about was brutal, and the more time that passed, the more you felt like it was crushing you.

At first, you chalked up Jakes absence to work, the same reason Danny hadn’t been able to visit. The first day it worked, but about halfway through, you thought the lack of communication was quite curious. By that evening, it was evident he was ignoring you. By day two, you were sure you’d permanently ruined your relationship with him, and by the third day, you were certain he hated you. You were not sure what the fourth would bring, and you were anything but eager to know. You had faith in him, wanting to ignore your brains incessant speculation on his behalf. You knew Jake to be sincere, and there was no way he would have spent those days with you playing house just to drop you the next day. That’s what you repeated to yourself, hoping that you were correct. Hoping that today would be the day his name graced your phone screen.

Your relationship with Sam hadn’t seemed to progress, either. Sure, you both texted, although dry by times. He’d confessed his utter enjoyment of the night you spent wrapped around each other, and you had too. He was scared of vulnerability, knowing he cared for you far more than he originally thought, and how dangerous that was. You were scared, too, because you felt the same, and his seemingly sudden withdrawal of interest had hurt you. You were both scared of getting hurt, without the realizing that you already were. It was much like anticipating a gunshot after getting stabbed. He had taken you out on a dinner date the day prior, albeit with an air of casualness. It was still nice, filled with laughter and small jokes, but didn’t stem any further than a make out session in his car, similar to the likes of two horny teenagers.

You thought you should take Jakes absence as a sign to pursue Sam. You were falling for him, even more than you were before the weekend full of events. You enjoyed everything you had done together, and knew that it was likely the right choice to make. Perhaps Jake had pulled out of the race, realized that it was foolish and wanted to put it to a civil end. Still, there was a part of you that wasn’t done with him, yet. Still craving him, aching for his touch and his love. Even if you attempted a relationship with Sam so soon, it would end in just as big of a disaster. So you waited, hoping that Jake had just stopped for a breather rather than changed course completely. It was feeble, but it was the only thought that gave you any type of comfort in the three days you’d gone without him.

You went to work Monday and Tuesday with little motivation. You felt bad about your lack of interest in your clients, but they never really seemed to notice. They were there to record music, not get a round of applause every time they completed a solo. Despite that, you still held some guilt over the distant nature you had clung to, realizing that it was very out of your character to be so uninterested in your work. Wednesday was no different. You crawled out of bed feeling like weights were tied to your ankles. You wished you could stay, hide under the protection of the blankets and sleep away the hollow feeling that was residing inside you. You showered and dressed yourself with your eyes half-closed, floating through the morning like a phantom of yourself. Toast was the only thing you could choke down, and you had stopped to get an extra large coffee on your way, just to motivate you to make it to lunch.

Your first two appointments were a daze, nothing memorable and a struggle to sit through. When the bands left, you apologized for your lack of energy and made a promise to have their samples ready by the weekend. Secretly, you were grateful they had only booked short sessions rather than an entire day, just so you could have a moment alone. Before lunch, you locked your office door and chipped away at paperwork you had long forgotten about. Once the stack was much less daunting, you did some work on the audio clips patiently waiting in your queue. By the time noon rolled around, you were all but hungry and more than ready for your inevitable return home. Thankfully, the receptionist had taken it upon herself to grab you a sandwich and a coffee when she stepped out. It gave you something to pick away at while the afternoon dragged on.

You were not dependant on Jake. You knew that if a few more days passed, the debilitating loss would resolve into a residual sadness. Sure, you would miss him, but it would be less catastrophic than it felt in that moment. What shook you to your core was not his disappearance, but the lack of communication beforehand. For him to be so involved, certain that you were what he wanted, and then gone without a trace. It gave you whiplash, falling for him so fast and then having to question if he ever existed at all. You wanted him, and it was obvious, but you were not willing to chase after him if he was showing such a blatant lack of interest in you. He had turned you into a complete fool for him, but you were desperate to cling onto your last shred of self-respect.

A knock on your door sounded, making you fight back an eye roll. Apparently, the busy sign that was glowing outside the room was easy to ignore. You stood, removing your headphones and pausing the clip on your laptop. You unlocked the knob, slowly turning it and revealing the disturbance. Your grumpy expression quickly changed once you registered who was on the other side. You stepped out of the way, inviting him in wordlessly. You closed the door behind him as he moved to take a seat on the couch.

“Rockstar finally had some free time in his schedule?” You smiled.

“Was in the neighbourhood, thought I would stop and say hello.” Danny answered, leaning back into the cushions. “Seems like I’m not the only busy one. Receptionist said you weren’t taking any walk-ins.” He chuckled.

“So you charmed your way up here?” You teased, sitting back down in your chair.

“You know me too well.” Your heart warmed at his soft smile. “She’s kind of automated. Told me that as soon as I said your name, recognized me when she finally looked up.” You nodded along with his explanation, agreeing with the observation.

“Yeah, she kind of has to be. People are pushy, we’re a popular spot. Gets her through the day.” You shrugged. “You guys not working today?” You addressed them all as a group, itching to ask about Jake, but knowing it was better not to. He shook his head.

“No, took a day to just relax.” You could tell he was lying. It was always easy to tell when Danny was lying. He wasn’t looking at you, he was fidgeting with the loose thread decorating the ripped fabric of his jeans. You watched him, wanting to catch his eye so you wouldn’t have to verbally pry the truth from him. After a moment, he looked up through his eyelashes, regretting the decision almost immediately. When he met your knowing stare, he cracked immediately. “We were, this morning.” He admitted. “We decided it would be best to take the day and regroup tomorrow. Didn’t get much done.”

“Why not?” You asked, genuinely curious. Usually they worked really well together. In your time of knowing them, they never seemed to lack in the productivity department. He avoided the question at first, unsure of how to answer it. After a while of uncomfortable silence, he shifted in his seat and fully turned to you.

“Jake has been fucking insufferable.” He sighed. Just from the sound of his tone, you could tell he wasn’t there to question you. He was a friend who needed to rant, and his options were limited due to the relations of his band mates. You let out a laugh, finding his blunt words funny. You knew that if Danny was willing to put it like such, Jake must have been horrific to be around. “Have any insight?” He asked, hoping for an answer.

“I haven’t talked to him since we went to brunch.” You admitted. It seemed like once the words left your mouth, it clicked in his brain.

“Your choice, or his?” You shifted under his gaze.

“Him, I think. I haven’t really reached out, either, I guess.” It was a lie; the separation was for certain Jake’s choice, and you had spent the first day blowing up his phone. You thought maybe that you had driven him even further away with your initial inquires.

“So he misses you!” Danny laughed, teasing you almost instantly. Your cheeks burned red, embarrassed at the idea and wishing he would keep his voice down.

“Shut up!” You scolded, but you couldn’t help but feel relief at the idea Jake was suffering, too. “If he misses me so much, he can come and see me!” But your argument was not heard over the sound of his laughter. He was worried there was a blowout, one that had left you both confused and angry. Instead, you were both playing the immature game of ‘who’s going to text first?’ He had to admit, the knowledge did make him feel better, knowing that one of you was bound to give in, and likely very soon.

“You guys are ridiculous!” He said, taking a long breath to calm himself down. Your childish anger was only adding more humour to an already funny situation, fuelling his hysterics even further. “For the love of god, talk to him before he goes crazy. Before he drives all of us crazy.”

“He started it!” You attempted to justify your lack of reaching out. “I tried at first, and he didn’t answer. He can drive himself crazy all he wants, but I’m not chasing after him.” You crossed your arms over your chest, eyebrows furrowed in frustration. Danny shook his head, a grin eating away at his face.

“What are you, five?” He chided. “Please, for my sake, just invite him over or something. I cannot handle him anymore.”

“Is that the only reason you came to see me?” You questioned, trying to change the subject.

“Obviously not!” He defended. “I wanted to see you.”

“Mhm,” you rolled your eyes. “If you’re here to see me, then I would appreciate no further comments on my love life, please.”

“Fine, but if he doesn’t cheer up soon, I’m going to go insane.” He warned, but there was an evident tone of humour in his words. He fell into a silence, thinking hard about how to word his next question. “How’s your Jake-stinence going?” You raised an eyebrow in inquiry, not quite sure what he meant. “Like abstinence… but from Jake. Get it?” You turned towards your desk, eyes landing on a blank sheet of paper. You grabbed it, crumpling it in your fist, and threw it at him. It bounced off his forehead and tumbled into his lap in a graceful manner, resulting in him shooting you a look of shock. “Not good, I take it. You’re as grumpy as he is.”

“I said no talk about you-know-who.” You pointed a finger at him in warning.

“Okay, okay.” He conceded. “He’s been demoted to Voldemort status.” He promised. You both shared a wordless stare, but eventually dissolved into a fit of giggles.

“I missed you.” You finally cracked, shedding the tough exterior. All of the turmoil you had been feeling from the last few days seemed to melt away. Danny had the ability to make even the worst situations seem bright just with his company.

“I missed you too, bug.”

The two of you chatted away, mostly just mindless and lighthearted conversation, but it seemed to satiate the ache that had been permanent for the past few days. You worked away, happy that you didn’t have any more appointments so you didn’t have to worry about cutting the hangout short. Somewhere along the way, you’d even managed to find your appetite. You finished the sandwich your receptionist had so graciously given you. By the time four o’clock rolled around, you were almost completely finished with your work. With your new spark of energy, you figured a little more time would get you ahead of the pile of procrastination you had accumulated.

“I think I need to get going.” Danny sighed, regretful for having to leave. “I think you-know-who’s brother is on his way to my place.” He said as he checked his phone.

“He’s also you-know-who.” You corrected.

“How are we going to tell the difference between them, then? At least call them Thing 1 and Thing 2, or something.”

“That’s the point. We aren’t going to be talking about them, remember?” You reminded him. He gave a slow nod, knowing that you wouldn’t stick to your word. As much as you hated discussing your problems, he always had a way of getting you to talk.

“You leaving soon, too?” You shook your head, motioning to your desk.

“I think I’m gonna stay late. I have a few things I need to get done before the weekend, and I’m feeling up to it, today.” You explained, receiving a nod in return. “Thanks for coming. I always love your company.” You smiled.

“It was my pleasure, bug.” You stood to give him a hug, unable to resist the temptation. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly as a silent apology for not seeing you sooner. You rested your head on his chest, eyes closed in bliss. The comfort you were surrounded in was impenetrable, more than you’d felt since you had your brunch date with him. “Call me if you’re bored later, I’m sure we can find something to do.”

“Sounds good to me.” You said, reluctant to let go. Eventually, you parted with him and bid a small goodbye. Once he disappeared through the door, you collapsed back in your chair.

You took a moment to decompress from the company before turning back to your laptop screen. You knew the rest of the staff would be heading out around four-thirty, so you called down to the front desk to let them know not to wait up for you. You took your phone out, checking to see if Jake had messaged, just in case. When you were met with a blank screen and a sinking feeling in your stomach, you turned on some music to fill the stale air. You worked away, finding your productivity lessen without Danny around. Still, you persevered in hopes that it would distract you from the creeping loneliness that was catching back up to you. The thought of returning home to an empty house was gut-wrenching, and you didn’t want to bother Danny and Sam in fear of intruding. Work seemed like the best option for you, and work you did. It distracted you enough that you almost missed the second disturbance of the day.

A gentle knock sounded on the door, which you thought was quite peculiar. You looked at your clock, noting that it was around the time everyone was headed home. You figured it was either the receptionist stopping by to bid a goodnight, or Danny coming back because he forgot something. You turned to the couch, eyes scouring the cushions to see if there was a forgotten phone or wallet, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. You thought it must be a coworker, as Danny likely would have noticed something was missing long before now. Another knock sounded, a bit more imminent than the last, breaking you out of your internal brooding indefinitely. You weren’t sure why you were stalling; maybe because you had no energy for another social interaction, or perhaps because you were determined to get the work finished. You figured you shouldn’t let whoever it was wait any longer in case it was something important.

You stood, making your way towards the door. Before you could open it, another knock came through. You had to admit, the persistence did strike you as annoying, but you tried not to let it bother you. When the door swung open, revealing the source of the disturbance, you were certain your heart stopped beating for a moment. With wide eyes, you took in the sight, drinking in every detail and finding yourself speechless. Three days was not a long time, but it seemed like an eternity to you. Somehow, in the lesser half of a week, he only seemed to present even more beautifully than he did in the days before. The desire to be with him was unfathomable when he wasn’t accessible, but now that he was within an arms reach, it was tormenting you worse than it ever had.

Jake stood, wordless with a shadow of indignation dancing in his eyes. Simple clothes, just a t-shirt and jeans, with his hair loosely hanging over his shoulders and his sunglasses decorating the neck of the shirt. His simplicity was astounding; it didn’t matter what he was wearing, he was always gorgeous. His cologne was like a punch to the stomach, something you didn’t realize you even missed until it was shoved in your face. It felt like an addiction. You bargained for days that you could go without him, live life without the comfort of his company. The minute he showed up, as soon as he became available, you knew you were lying to yourself. A lifetime without Jake could be enjoyable, sure, but never completely fulfilling. All of the contempt for his actions, the anger you had felt over his disappearance was gone in an instant, replaced with the undying urge to reach out and touch him, for him to touch you.

“Long time no see, Gold Dust Woman.” His tone was flat, the nickname that usually held an air of adoration was cold, now. He was angry, and Danny was correct about that, but he was mad at you. If the reunion went well, you made sure to note that you would never ignore him again, intentional or not. More so than anger him, it seemed to hurt him, and that was something you never wanted to do.

“Jake,” you breathed, still finding yourself unable to move from your position. You wanted to reach out to him, to invite him in, but you couldn’t seem to conjure the strength to do it. That feeling was partially reliant on the idea that he did not want you to. You were caught in a standoff, neither of you wanting to be the first to move, but both of you needing each other more than words could express. Your gaze drifted over his face, features so alluring and inviting. For a split second, his eyes caught yours. It shook you to your core, making you want to fall to your knees and grovel at his feet. In that moment, you would do anything to feel even a fraction of the love in his touch that you had experienced before. Even if it was angry, a shell of what it was the few days prior, it would be worth the world and more.

As if the eye contact sparked the same realization in him, he stepped forward without warning. His hands landed on your hips and he pulled you into a kiss. Your arms shot up, wrapping around his neck and pulling him closer. With one kiss, he managed to silence every worry before it even had a chance to surface. Without breaking apart, you both stepped into the room a bit further. He kicked the door shut behind him, not willing to take the chance of someone interrupting. It was a messy show of desperation, his hands wandering to any available part of you, making up for lost time. When you finally parted, your lips were swollen and you were fighting for air.

“You disappeared,” you stated, chest heaving in attempt to catch up on the lack of oxygen.

“Good observation.” He muttered, not having the heart to ignore you any longer, but it was evident that he wasn’t interested in talking. His hands were already wandering under the hem of your shirt, begging for you to let him slip it over your head. As much as you wanted to deny it, to stop him for a moment to resolve the problem before jumping straight to sex, you couldn’t. The feeling of his hands on your skin was exhilarating, satiating the craving that could only ever be solved by him. You lifted your arms, complying to his request with no hesitation. Once your shirt was discarded, he turned and locked the door, just as a precaution. “Got here just in time. Receptionist was leaving, told me you were still up here.”

“Surprised she let you in.” You responded, feeling the sting of cool air attack your bare skin.

“Didn’t want to. Calling you my girlfriend really persuaded her.” His gruff explanation was paired with the action of him pushing you towards the couch. He said it with such simplicity, like it was a completely normal title and he had no problem announcing it. It made your stomach churn, the knowledge that it was a lie stinging a little more than it should have. You didn’t have time to dwell, because once you reached the sofa, he made quick work at sitting down and pulling you into his lap.

You adjusted easily, straddling him like it was the most natural thing in the world. His fingers snaked around to your back, unclasping your bra and throwing it to the floor alongside your shirt.

“Why the hell were you ignoring me?” You question was followed by a sharp gasp; he’d already buried his face in your chest and pulled one of your nipples into his mouth. The sensation caused an involuntary grind of your hips against him. His actions were only gentle for a moment, the tender care he showed you initially was quickly replaced with his annoyance. Cautiously, he sunk his teeth into the sensitive bud, eliciting a hiss from you. Your grip on his bicep tightened, shocked at the suddenness of his action. You could already tell that his intent was not to cater to you. He was pissed off, so much so that it had taken three days for him to recover enough to punish you for it.

You had no idea that his unanswered calls would get under his skin so badly, and if anything, you thought it was quite childish. Three days of complete silence over a bruised ego seemed a little extreme. Perhaps his frustration was bleeding in to you as well, causing a spark of anger towards him. “Answer me.” You snapped, unable to find a sympathetic bone in your body. The harsh words hit him the same as if you punched him in the face. He broke from you, eyes immediately shooting up to your face. There was a fire blazing behind his pupils, the muscle in his jaw tense with annoyance at your demand.

“Shut up.” He spat, no willingness to answer questions about why he withdrew. His eyes lingered for only a moment before pulling you into another kiss. You could feel the rage radiating from his skin; it was laced within his kiss, bleeding into your mouth and knotting around your throat. The sensation was electrifying, so good that you didn’t even notice that it was killing you. In that moment, you hated him, furious that he refused to tell you why he left, but you were so in love with the feeling of his hands that you couldn’t stop him. You were aching for relief, but it was far beyond sexual gratification. His absence hurt you for reasons much bigger than sex, even if you thought it impossible to communicate it. As much as you wanted to ignore it, to give in to his demands and burning touch, you couldn’t.

“I can’t,” you pulled back, breaking free from his spell. Even as the words came out of your mouth, you wanted to take them back. The temptation of Jake was greater than any other force you’d ever felt before. “I can’t have sex with you unless we talk.” The first wise decision you had made since the beginning had finally surfaced. The lack of malice in your statement struck him differently than your previous comments. For a brief moment, he paused. You had hurt him, undoubtedly, but he finally realized that he had hurt you, too. The defensive nature you had both previously adorned was beginning to crumble away. When he looked into your eyes, his heart ached at the harshness he had greeted you with.

The crack in the wall slowly spread, branching into all directions. The sound was deafening.

Instantaneously, the truth seeped through the weakened defence, settling in your bones and taking over; the game you were playing with each other evolved into something much greater than casual sex. You cared about each other, enough so that whatever happened had caused genuine pain. You were invested enough to be hurt, and now you weren’t sure how to slow down. “We can talk while we fuck.” He bargained, less aggressive than his initial stance. He was still angry, but it had dissipated the moment he saw you. Now that he was touching you, aching to be with you the same way you were, it was residual rather than overwhelming. He didn’t want to admit that his request was due to his need for you, still unable to jump over the barrier limiting him from being vulnerable. He wanted to talk, to work out the situation and go back to the way things were in the first few days, but his need for communication was minimal compared to his need for you.

You couldn’t find a good argument to counter his proposal, so you agreed. Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea, but at the time it seemed right. When you didn’t contest, he shifted below you, keeping one hand on your back for support, and easily laid you down on the couch. You knew that sex in your office was likely not the best place, but you also knew you couldn’t withstand a drive back to your house. You could only hope that the janitors started on the first floor, knowing that you were in for one hell of a ride. He fumbled with the buttons on your jeans, barely warning you before those were on the floor, too. You were left in just your underwear, skin tingling with the frigid air. When he finally took a moment to look over you, exposed underneath him once more, he felt the crushing weight of his adoration for you wash over him, overshadowing any other emotion he was feeling in the moment. His expression almost looked pained, striking a worry within you. In truth, the pain was due to the knowledge in his brain that he could lose you, and he knew just how easy it would be. Missing you had become so difficult that he couldn’t even play into his own game anymore. He couldn’t imagine a lifetime without you if he lost the race.

“You want to talk?” He hummed, breaking out of his internal brooding almost immediately. His voice was low, dangerous almost, like the question in itself was a trap. He leaned down over you, his lips ghosting over your stomach. The light tickle of his mouth sent a shiver down your spine, so unsettling yet still so beautiful all at the same time. “To keep pretending that you don’t know what you did?” A fizzle of panic struck, unsure what he meant by the question. Soon after, regret formed at the memory of his missed calls, the ones that sounded when you were too busy buried in his brother. “I warned you, angel. Being a tease is not how you get what you want. Ignoring me, talking back, not listening…” he trailed off, mouth still barely hovering over you. He’d made it to your navel, his breath tickling the skin just above your panty line. You would be lying if you said you didn’t wish for him to continue. He wasn’t even touching you and you were a mess for him. He brought his mouth to you, a placing gentle kiss to you. It was barely noticeable, but it was the greatest gift he ever could have given you. You had no shame in the shaky breath that escaped your lips, no longer shy about the effect he had on you.

“I’m going to do the talking, and you’re going to listen.” He said, finally looking up at you. At the sight of his face, all of your morals faded away. Any idea of argument was long forgotten, and any need to contest his authority ceased to exist. You were at his disposal, completely under his command and just grateful to have the opportunity. Your pleasure was second to his; you were willing to make up for whatever you had done to hurt him, and if that meant allowing him to do whatever he pleased with you, that was more than alright. Despite his disappearance and his angry exterior, he was still the same Jake you had been lucky enough to experience before. You knew that no matter how upset he was with you, he would take care of you and your comfort. You trusted him more than you cared to admit. “Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir.” You whispered. His hand slowly connected with your cunt, the thin material of your underwear barely diminishing the euphoric feeling of his fingers on you.

“You only speak when I give you permission.” He added, making sure the rule was clear. “Unless you want me to stop or slow down.” He was quick to ensure that was understood. He looked to you, both of you knowing he wanted verbal clarification before he continued.

“Okay, baby.” You promised. The pet name seemed to cause a short-circuit in his brain, almost making him forget what his intentions were. At the sound of such a sweet word he’d been craving to hear for so many days, he considered throwing the act to the side and coddling you, admitting that he was in the wrong for letting his jealousy get in the way. The continual battle of fighting back vulnerability was exhausting, and every time he looked it you it grew harder to withstand.

“That’s my girl.” He broke from your stare, muttering the praise in attempt to distract himself from the internal struggle of wanting to love you and being afraid. His fingers were barely touching you, the pressure against you minimal, but the touch so inviting. “Need to show me that you can behave, angel. So far, you haven’t done a very good job at it.” He explained, eager to get the last piece of clothing off of you, but opting to tease you instead. He found it too easy to give in to you, to give you whatever you wanted, and he was trying to resist it. His anger was still strong, pulsing through his veins, but now it was less so to do with you, and more so due to him allowing himself to wind up in this situation all over again. He swore the last time that he would never allow Sam the chance to steal someone away from him. This time, he was certain that his head start would allow him the upper hand, but somehow his brother had bested him once more. The stakes were too high, the idea of Sam touching you was excruciating, and he feared that his own bruised feelings had given his brother the opportunity he had been so desperate to avoid.

In complete transparency, in the three days he spent away from you, the thought of letting go did surface, but not because he was willing to give you up. It was mostly because he knew the loss of you would be devastating. It was in protection of his own feelings, and ignoring your messages was admittedly one of the hardest things he had ever done. Now that he was with you, touching you, seeing you in the beautiful light that you were always surrounded with, the thought was blasphemous. Jake was in the race until the very end, until you ultimately made the decision yourself. He may have started the game with the belief he was in control, but he now he knew he wasn’t. For a moment, he believed Sam was the master, but that wasn’t true, either. You held the power, even if you didn’t believe it. The choice was yours, and all they could do was pray that it was them who would come out on top. Much like his brother, he adorned the same attitude, knowing that a brief time with you was better than never having you at all, even knowing that it might not be him you chose.

In some sense, you felt like your decision was already made. With his hands on you, his eyes burning into you, and his cologne surrounding you, the choice seemed easy. Your undeniable feelings for him were growing more by the day; his disappearance only solidified that. When Jake was around you, the decision to love him was simple. You wanted to be with him, to be loved by him, and you weren’t sure if it would ever go away. Then again, when he was gone, replaced by the company of Sam, the right thing seemed to be different, to follow your initial path in pursuing Sam. You had no idea what to do, or when to do it. You didn’t want to stay in limbo forever, always bouncing back and fourth and never able to make a decision, but the idea of losing either of them was indescribably painful.

“What are you thinking about, sweetheart?” His words shot through you like a bullet, shattering any doubt. You wanted to be with Jake, and until you had the courage to say it aloud for certain with no fear of doubling back, you would enjoy having him for the time being. You hadn’t been with him for long enough to know for sure, and that’s what you repeated in your head to bargain with your indecision.

“You,” You whispered, and it was the truth. He was all you could think about, all of the time. It was unbearable, but fantastic all the same. His fingers were still dancing over the thin fabric concealing you, giving you a taste of relief but not even close to enough to satisfy. You knew that he was going to push you until you couldn’t think straight, make you forget anything other than his name, and you were okay with it. You missed him so much that you would take anything, even if it were him telling you he hated you. Being hated by Jake was better than being nothing to him.

“Are you telling me the truth?” He asked.

“Of course I am.” You breathed, squirming beneath his heavy stare. You were throbbing, aching for him to stop teasing you and get to the point, but you bit your tongue. If you were to talk back to him, you feared he would get up and leave. You were certain he could tell how turned on you were; he was dragging it out as punishment. He noticed your discomfort, knowing immediately the cause. He could see how badly you wanted him just from your expression, and it was exactly what he was hoping for. A small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, the closest thing to a smile he had given you since he showed up.

“Let’s talk, angel.” He said, slowing his movements to a stop. “If you keep telling me the truth, I’ll give you what you want. If you lie to me…” he trailed off, eyes drifting over you as he pondered the best choice of words. “You probably don’t want to find out what will happen.” He said, his smirk growing into a sadistic little smile. You didn’t like the look in his eye, but the temptation of the reward was too large to resist.

“Okay, let’s talk.” You agreed. He settled himself on his knees between your legs, leaning in close to you. He turned his head to the side, placing a few kisses to the inside of your thigh before beginning his tirade.

“You know, it’s not very nice to be a tease,” He pondered aloud, not pointing a question at you, but rather posing the statement in general. “I don’t particularly like it.” The pressure of his thumb increased, giving you small motivation to play into his game. He noticed your sharp intake of breath at the movement, clearly pleased by the sound. “Well, unless I’m the one doing it.”

God, he was insufferable sometimes.

“What were you trying to do that night?” He asked, but spoke again before you could respond. “Calling me dressed like that, ignoring my texts, talking back?” He listed a few of the injustices that you had committed.

“I wanted you to come over.” You let out a gasp as the statement fell from your lips, feeling his fingers finally slip under the fabric. Instead of rewarding you for your answer, he let his thumb hover over the spot you so badly wanted him to touch. The minuscule contact was worse than an itch you couldn’t quite scratch.

“No, I don’t think that’s what you wanted.” He shook his head, watching your face. Every detail was driving you crazy, despite how minor some were. He raised an eyebrow, wanting you to try again.

“Attention.” You admitted, which was the whole truth. Your previous answer was not completely wrong, yet purposely omitted partial truth. “I wanted you to pay attention to me.” With that, he let his thumb trace slow circles into your clit. The small action sent a wave of pleasure through you, causing you to involuntarily arch your back in response.

“That’s it, baby.” He said, the words coming out in a slur. He wanted to keep his composure, but it was difficult watching you in such a state. Your reaction had an effect on him that was much greater than he would care to admit. “You wanted attention?” He asked, making sure that your answer was clear.

“Mhm,” you hummed, eyes fluttering closed in response to his voice. You were sure you could get off from the sound of it alone.

“Did you want it from me, or did you just want someone to take care of you? Didn’t matter who it was?” He asked, his tone shifting slightly. You could tell that his anger was slowly returning the more he spoke.

“I wanted it from you, Jake.” You said, looking to meet his eyes. You meant it, but you weren’t sure he believed it. “That’s why I called you.” Another gasp sounded from you as his thumb pressed into you even further.

“And you got it,” he confirmed “you got exactly what you wanted, didn’t you?” His eyes never left your face, searching for a hint of a lie, almost like he wanted you to try your luck.

“Y-yes,” you stuttered out, feeling him slowly slip a finger into you. It was just enough for you to lose your train of thought, only able to focus on his hands rather than your conversation.

“But you weren’t satisfied with that, were you?” He questioned, voice quiet but firm. His hands felt so good on you that you almost didn’t hear him, too caught up in the pleasure. A moan fell from your lips, but he wasn’t happy about your lack of an answer. He halted his movements, violently pulling you out of the cloud of euphoria. “That wasn’t enough. You wanted more, didn’t you, angel?”

“Yeah, I did.” Your response was immediate, willing to tell him anything he wanted to hear as long as he promised to keep touching you. “I wanted you to come over and fuck me.” He resumed his pace, adding another finger to you to show his appreciation for your honesty. You let out a choked moan, the feeling more intense now that he had stopped and started again.

“I know you did, sweetheart.” He said, a note of fake sympathy ringing from his tone. Had you not known him so well, you’d almost believe it to be true. “Were you a good girl after I hung up? Did you listen to me and touch yourself, take care of yourself because I couldn’t be there with you?” His words were blunt, powerful in their simplicity, and pushing you closer to an orgasm every time he opened his mouth. You didn’t even care that his tone was thick with disrespect, slowly degrading you more every time he spoke. You had no idea where his words were leading to, but you were certainly content with the ignorance in the meantime.

“N-no,” you admitted, but the answer barely come out. You were too distracted by the knot tightening in your belly, pleading with you to let go.

“Of course you didn’t,” he chuckled, but it was not because he found the situation funny. It was a knowing laugh; he’d known the answer to the question long before he asked it, but he wanted to hear you admit it. “You never listen.” He stated, but the snarky comment meant nothing to you. He could see it in your face, the impending climax that you were so desperate for. He was almost willing to give in, to let you have the moment of pleasure, but he wasn’t feeling up to generosities. “You were supposed to do as I said, be good and play with yourself until I could come over. It was simple, but you couldn’t even do that.” He spat.

“M’sorry, Jake.” You whined, but you were too far gone to say it with sincerity. The lack of understanding on your part infuriated him, that you had no idea what he was hinting at, no idea what you had done.

“No, you’re not.” He shook his head, despite you not looking at him. He continued his movements, driving you as close to the edge as he could get you. “You’re not sorry at all.”

“I am,” you pleaded, now fearful that he thought you were lying.

“What did you do instead?” He asked, ignoring your desperate apologies.

“I-I drank, waited for you to come o-over.” You figured the half truth was better than the alternative. You weren’t lying to him, just withholding the full story in hopes to spare his feelings and keep him from pulling away.

“I told you not to lie to me, sweetheart.” He said, the low tone resonating more with a growl. You failed to realize that you were in stalemate; he knew what you had done, and there was no lie or explanation that would lessen the blow of the truth.

“N-not lying, baby.” You breathed, just seconds away from an orgasm. It was getting harder to speak, harder to think. The conversation was of no interest to you, anymore. The only thing you wanted was for him to keep making you feel good, and you were willing to say anything to get it.

“Strike two.” He warned.

“Jake, please, I promise.” You begged. That was his breaking point, no longer able to prompt you to tell the truth. He was fed up, practically radiating with frustration, and long past willing to bargain with you.

“So that’s your story? You waited for me?” He hissed, but his hands remained steady. When you didn’t answer, he chose to do it for you. “I told you to get yourself off, not to call my brother to do it for you.” He spat. Your eyes snapped open, the shock of his words paired with the threat of climax was overwhelming, sending your body into a rigid state. You were frozen, finally understanding that his disappearance was not because of a bruised ego, or anger that you had been ignoring him. He knew Sam was at your house that night, and was painfully aware of what you had done with him. You really had hurt him, but not for the reasons you previously thought. You couldn’t respond, only feeling a strangled cry of pleasure leave your lips as the burning in your stomach seemed to reach its full capacity. Before you could descend into the orgasm, he ripped his hand away from you with a scowl permanently stuck on his lips. If you’d been in your right mind, complaining would not have been your first reaction, but you were delirious after going so long without him. Finally feeling his hands again was enough to drive you insane, and losing them before you could let go was the worst feeling in the world.

“What the fuck?” You hissed, sitting upright in an instant. Normally, the crazed look in his eye would have served as a warning. Today, it was just the same as throwing gasoline on a burning flame.

“That’s what you do when you don’t get your way?” He matched your intensity, both of you fuming with no sign of backing down. “I didn’t get a call, or even a text, so I thought I’d be nice. Thought I pushed you too far, so I dropped everything to come over and take care of you, just to see that you’d already found someone else to do it? It was that easy?” The condescending attitude was infuriating enough that you thought you could reach out and strangle him without a shred of guilt.

“So that’s why you came here? To argue? To show up after three days just to fight with me?” You spat, ready to grab your clothes and kick him out. “You don’t get to be mad at me for something you started!” He reached out, grabbing your face in his hand with little care, silencing you before you could speak again.

“No, I’m not here to argue.” He said, suddenly seeming calm and rational, though the fire in his eyes did not reflect his stature. “Get up, and shut your fucking mouth.” There was no more room for discussion, and you were not willing to contest him. You stood, obliging to the command almost immediately. He stood, too, eyes scanning the room until they inevitably landed on the recording booth, perfectly soundproof and ready to house the main event. He nodded his head towards it, signalling for you to go inside. You wanted to protest, to shake your head in retaliation, but you couldn’t. His authority in that moment was astounding, something that was not a force to be reckoned with. The power imbalance was clear; he was in charge this time, and was in no way willing to compromise.

You shuffled in the direction of his eyes, walking in the booth with him hot on your trail. The sound of the door shutting behind you settled in your bones with the weight of lead, sending dread through every nerve. You had no reason to be scared; you knew he would never hurt you, but you were certain he would not be gentle. You turned to look at him, finding no comfort in the expression that he adorned. “Turn around, hands against the wall.” Was all he said. You obeyed, quickly spinning and taking a step towards the wall. You assumed the position that he requested without a word. Despite the bubble of anxiety in your chest, you were still incredibly turned on and excited for what was in store for you, even if it was a punishment. You felt him approach you, his body radiating warmth despite being fully clothed. Another rush of arousal ran through you, excited by his proximity alone. That was the thing about Jake; he didn’t have to be touching you to be able to keep his spell on you. It was strong enough just simply knowing he existed.

“I’m not here to argue, or fight, or whatever you think.” He said, voice dangerously low. “If I wanted to do that, I would have gotten it over with long before now.” You knew he didn’t want you to answer, so you didn’t. You were in much too deep to risk pissing him off further. You felt his hand ghost over your lower back, the touch soft and inviting. It felt so good that your eyes even fluttered closed, the tension in your shoulders releasing slightly. “Do you remember what I said, earlier?” You chose not to respond in fear of saying the wrong thing. “How I’m going do the talking, and you’re going to listen?”

“Yes,” you whispered, still in love with the feeling of his hand on you. He was being far too sweet for you to believe it was true.

“Good,” he said, the word short and his tone firm. “You remember your colours?”

“Yes,” you repeated, almost robotically.

“Please don’t be scared to tell me, okay?” He said, dropping the gruffness only for a moment.

“Okay,” you whispered, looking back over your shoulder to catch his eye for a moment. You wished you hadn’t, because the softness beneath the rough exterior was almost enough to make you fall in love with him on the spot. He was tempted to smile, to throw his anger to the side and hold you. As upset as he was about the situation, it did not take away his care for you, and the three days he spent away from you were just as terrible for him as they were for you. He knew if he did that, he would be digging his own grave. Instead, he continued on like the sweet second had never happened at all.

“I came here because I wanted to give you the chance to tell me the truth.” He said, your eyes still locked with his. “Told you that I’d take care of you, you’d get what you want, as long as you didn’t lie to me.” His grip on your hip tightened, fingers staring into your skin and showcasing all of the emotion he was holding within him. “Made it easy, but you don’t know how to listen.” He sighed at the end of the sentence, like he almost pitied you for what you were going to endure. “No more chances, baby. We do this my way, now. Understand?”

“I do.” You squeaked.

“I didn’t think that I was asking a lot of you, sweetheart.” He said once your head turned away from him. “Just to be patient, to do what you were told, and you couldn’t even do that for me.” You felt him remove his hand from you. Soon after, you could hear the metal clanging of his belt being unbuckled. Your stomach sank, knowing what would come next, but you couldn’t help but feel the buzz of excitement again. Jake was so phenomenal that even the thought of being reprimanded by him was exhilarating. “You didn’t care who was giving you the attention, angel. You just wanted someone to take care of that ache between your legs. You knew I’d do it right, and that’s why you called me, hmm?”

“Yes, sir.” You felt the cool leather against your backside, threatening to strike at the first wrong word or action. You took a long breath, waiting for his next move.

“Did you think he could take care of you like I do?” The possessive nature of his statement took you as a shock; there had never been a time where you had discussed boundaries, titles, or anything official. It was messy, hookups with no real promise of more but so many buried feelings that it made it near painful for everyone. From all you knew, the competition between the brothers was fierce, but expected. Jealousy was not something you had thought would surface. You pushed the thought away, understanding that Jake had not said anything extremely offhand. You chalked the comment up to his competitive nature, and left it at that. At the same time, you fought to ignore the feeling of delight that came with the thought of being his.

At your silence, the belt raised and came down on your bare ass. It was not nearly as hard as he could have hit you, but it was enough to send a shock through you. The lasting sting was a reminder to answer him in a timely fashion. “No comment?” He taunted. You could hear the smirk in his tone, almost pushing you to test your limits, but you decided it was best not to. “Did you think he could make you feel as good as I do?”

“No, sir.” Now was not the time to tell him you did not call Sam and invite him over, or that when you answered the door, you expected it to be him. He didn’t want to hear that; his feelings were hurt, and he wanted you to fuel his ego.

“Doesn’t seem like he did a very good job, angel. Not a single mark on you.” He noted. You could feel his eyes scanning you, inspecting for any signs of the betrayal littering your skin. The leather of the belt was gently tickling your backside, threatening you with punishment if you did not adhere to the rules. “Did he make you feel good, baby?” His question seemed like one of self-punishment. He would know if you were lying, but the truth was undesirable.

“Y-yes,” you muttered, feeling guilty for even saying that to his face.

“As good as I do?” He asked, his tone more pressing than before. You had no idea how to answer him, because you didn’t know. It was different, and you were unable to compare it to each other because they were both fantastic for different reasons. So, you opted to test your luck and give him the answer he wanted to hear from you.

“No, baby.” You said, trying to sound as confident as possible.

“No?” He asked, questioning your response. You were frustrated with him, unsure of the answer he wanted to hear. He seemed to pick up on every lie without difficulty, leaving you stuck with truth, even if you thought it would do more harm than good.

“I-i don’t know, Jake.” You said, honesty finally showing.

“Then tell me what you do know.” His condescending attitude was insufferable, making you realize that this game was not for any other reason than to shame you for your actions. He wasn’t catering to his own ego, or mending his own wounds. He wanted you to feel embarrassed, regretful for the stunt you pulled and the scene he witnessed. He wanted you to feel the same embarrassment he felt when he showed up only to find that Sam had beat him to it. “What happened that night, angel?”

“I was waiting for you, Jake.” You told him, more truthful than anything else you could have said. “I heard a knock on the door and I thought it was you. I was excited, thought maybe I won the argument for once. When I opened the door, it wasn’t you. I didn’t call Sam, I didn’t invite him over to spite you. He showed up.” You explained, desperate for him to know that you would never do that to him. “I didn’t even know it was him until the door was open.” Jakes movements stuttered, the belt he was taunting you with coming to a halt for a moment. He had misjudged you, and although knowing that you invited Sam inside was painful, his reaction was based off the conclusion that you called Sam when he refused to give in to you. He was mistaken, but in typical Jake fashion, he couldn’t seem to fess up to his wrongdoing. He was in too deep to backtrack, and his contempt for the situation was still too large to ignore.

“But you invited him in, didn’t you?” His voice was softer; you could tell the explanation satiated at least some of the ache he had been feeling.

“I did.” You admitted. If his goal was to make you feel shame, it was working. Perhaps at the time, your guilt was not large enough to derail your desire for sex, but now it made you never want to look at Sam again.

“And you didn’t think that was a bad idea?” He pressed. You could feel him gravitating closer to you, his hips almost pushing into you now. He was dragging this out even longer than he liked, but he continued on, nonetheless. “Didn’t care about anyone’s feelings other than your own?” He snapped, finally outwardly admitting that it had hurt him, even if it was unintentional.

“I’m sorry,�� you whispered, but it wasn’t enough.

“You’re not sorry, angel. I know you would do it again if I left you here like this.”

“I’m trying to apologize, Jake!” You said, frustrated with his lack of respect for your words. “I know I fucked up, but you didn’t have to disappear like that!” Your attitude was quickly changed when the smack of the belt was felt on your skin again, harder than the last time. Your jaw clenched, teeth grinding together to distract you from the sting.

“Apologize for what?” He hissed. “You keep saying sorry, but you don’t even know what you’re sorry for.” A tear welled up in your eye, still processing the bluntness of the belt. You were frustrated, tired of the back and fourth, and most of all, desperate for him to get off his high horse and fuck you. You were both hurting with no proper way of communicating it. The whole foundation of your relationship was sex; neither of you had a clue how to approach the complex feelings that were beginning to surface. Both of you fell in step with the devil, driven by the premise of each other’s bodies and ignored any thought of emotion. It had only been a week, and the sexual gratification had already grown old, overpowered by the need for something deeper. “Sorry that you were a little whore? That you couldn’t keep your legs closed and wait for me? Or are you just sorry that you didn’t get away with it?” The belt dropped to the floor with a pathetic plop, easily forgotten about in the heat of the moment. You would have turned around on your own accord, faced him with just as much fire had it not been for him doing it for you.

Once you were facing him, fully immersed in his features, you could see that underneath all of his anger, that pain was desperate to be released, begging to be discussed. “It doesn’t matter, angel. I don’t care if you’re sorry.” He looked over your face, noticing the same fire in your eyes. The same pain was there, too. You were both fools to believe that it would magically disappear once you both had an orgasm. He stepped forward, ultimately pushing you back into the wall. You looked up at him, furious but still just as turned on. Sex would not fix the problem, but it certainly would take your mind off of it. “I’m going to fuck that attitude out of you, show you why you should have waited.”

“Do it, then.” You snapped, unable to bite your tongue anymore. “I’m sick of talking. Keep saying you’re going to, but haven’t made a move yet.” His eyes lingered over your face, distaste for your words clearly evident, but he didn’t respond. Instead he freed himself from his pants, in too much of a rush to shut you up to bother fully taking them off. He used his hand to make sure you were firmly against the wall, forgoing caution completely. His hand settled on your thigh, roughly pulling your leg up and around him. He kept his hand there, holding you to him as he bent down slightly, angling himself so he could access you easier.

Once he was lined up, he pushed inside of you without any delay. You let out a sigh of relief, but his face was stony, like he barely noticed the difference. He wasn’t fucking you for pleasure, and he was making that clear. His free hand travelled up to your neck, fingers lightly resting over your throat. “You don’t get to speak to me like that, sweetheart.” He said, hips slowly begging to rock into you. “You don’t get to speak at all, anymore. No more teasing, no more back talk, nothing.” He growled, his fingers tightening further with every word. “If you want to be a whore, you get treated like one. I have no problem with that.” As he finished, you could feel the lack of blood flow begin to wane, your heartbeat strong against the vein he was compressing. The feeling of him inside you was amplified by a million, the airy feeling in your head making it unable to think of anything other than Jake. The only thing you could focus on was the look in his eye, the feral craze of anger peeking through more by the second.

When you thought you couldn’t take any more, the brink of unconsciousness beginning to creep in from the corners of your eyes, his fingers loosened. He awake angry, sure, but never willing to cause you harm. He cared about you far too much to risk hurting you. You drew in a long gasp, feeling the prickle of stars in your vision as you tried to come back to earth. You barely had a moment to recuperate before he began his next series of degradation. “This is what you wanted so badly?” He said, his face growing closer to yours. He rested his forehead on your own, feeling the pressure begin to rise. His irascible front was breaking, slowly melting away the closer he got to you. The gravitational pull you so often felt from him was strong, and he was feeling the same one from you. “You wanted it so bad that you settled for less?” He paused his movements, reaching down for your other leg. With great trust, you allowed him to pick you up and wrap your other leg around him. Your arms snaked around his neck, pulling him in closer.

He was engulfing you like a cloud of smoke, every angle completely obscured by the weight of his existence. Every time you attempted to break free, he was there. He existed in every part of you, every molecule of your body coated with his name and cracking under the pressure of his touch. Jake was everywhere, in everything and never seeming to truly leave. Every corner you turned, every door opened and even when you closed your eyes, he existed somewhere within the darkness. It was unbearable, feeling like every limb was anchored down by the knowledge of what it felt like to be loved by him, but you believed that if you were free, you would float away into nothing. Every small wish that Jake would break the ties with you, that the situation would come to a civil end, the passing thought of how easy it would have been if he never approached at all seemed null. You knew that even if he walked out, somehow withered away into nothing and left you alone with doubt he ever existed, you would never recover from the loss of something so spectacular. You wondered if you never knew the extent of his touch, how groundbreaking it was, if you would have ever realized what you were missing out on. You thought you would have, eventually, because a feeling so exhilarating is something you yearn for infinitely, and the one he gave you was all that, and more.

“I want to hear you say it, angel.” He snarled, his fingers pressing in to you with the same feeling as a blade. It was phenomenal. He was phenomenal, and you never wanted to go so long without him again. He was pulling you down on him with every thrust of his hips. The position seemed so limiting for many, but complemented him so greatly. Everything he did was fantastic, intricate work with lasting impact. You were certain there was nothing Jake could do that would be less than amazing. You were thankful for his idea to move to the recording booth, because the moans that were escaping you were nothing short of pornographic, something you typically would only hear from an actor desperate to pay rent. But you weren’t acting, and it wasn’t a show of apology, or anything of the sorts. You never sugarcoated anything for him; everything shared between you was raw and anything but fake. “Tell me how good it feels.”

“So good, Jake.” You cried, hands gripping for something to hold, to ground you and bring you back to sanity. There was nothing that would give you the relief, and that’s exactly what he wanted. He wanted you to crazy for him, delirious on the idea of him alone and disturbed at the thought of being without him. If he could have his way, you would never even have the chance to think of anyone other than him. “You make me feel so good, baby.”

“Do you think anybody else can do a better job?” He asked, only using your praise as motivation to work harder.

“N-no, Jake.” You shook your head, motion limited due to his head resting on your own. You weren’t lying; in the race of feelings, Sam had a head start. There was no doubt in the minds of any of you about that. In turn, Jake had mastered the art of sex. So much so that he had you at his feet without even touching you, without you even realizing it. You would chase after him for the rest of your life for even a shred of what he was giving you then. Sex with Sam was dripping with love, soft and sweet, echoing with words everybody longs to hear. It was good, great, even. You had no regrets about the night you shared with him, but Jake was otherworldly. It was his charm, his wicked wildcard he pulled when he knew he had to compete for you. If he couldn’t make you fall in love with him within a day, he knew he could stalemate you in lust.

His head buried in the crook of your neck, assaulting the skin with the fervour of a madman, locating all of the sensitive spots like an animal searching for prey. You couldn’t stop yourself from crying out, his name echoing off the walls in an obscene decoration, permanent memories of his generosity etched into the air and settling into the wood. No matter how you tried to excise his presence, you couldn’t stop him from taking over. It didn’t matter where you were or how brief the encounter; from the moment he arrived, Jake owned the place, and it would always be like so. You could feel the pressure building, his body melting into your own in with strange comfort. He was slowly purging any life from you, leeching any energy and keeping it for his own, but it was too late to stop it. Even if you had the opportunity, you weren’t sure you would. To descend into nothing at the hands of Jake was the most compelling thing you could ever imagine, because you would have the opportunity to be with him until the end.

He could feel you tense, your walls clenching around him in a plea for an orgasm. You were desperate, the separation from him had taken more from you than you cared to admit. Even the thought of an orgasm from Jake was blissful all in itself, and you couldn’t hold on any longer. When the steady stream of moans tapered off into choked cries, he knew you were feeling too good to even think of making a sound. He knew how badly you wanted it and he cared for you enough to give you anything, but he was too angry to allow you the satisfaction, to let you believe you were off the hook. When you gripped at the hair on the base of his neck, holding him in preparation for the climax, he stopped completely. For a moment, you failed to realize what had happened. You were too deep into the pleasure to understand that his hips had stopped, and his body was pulling away from you. Once you did, it washed over you in a wave of agony.

Not once did you believe that you would be so desperate for another person to beg. Not in some minor, sexual gratification way, but in a violent, anguished manner. One where you believed if he didn’t give in, you would never survive. For Jake, for the way only he could make you feel, you would, and quite shamelessly at that. You would go to the ends of the earth to find the relief of the orgasm he was so happy to deny you. You were so distraught at the loss of the feeling that you couldn’t even conjure the proper words to express your distaste. Instead, a whine sounded from deep in your chest, one that wasn’t afraid of showing transparency. When he looked to you, you felt like he could see into your soul, pinpoint the very things that made you, you. You were so desperate for him that you had no shame in showing him exactly how you felt about him, and even if it was a wordless show of adoration, he knew.

His issue did not lie within the lack of knowledge about your feelings for him. He was well aware of that by now. Almost as painfully aware as he was about his own feelings for you. All of the emotions running through you, the forces you felt when you were around him, the suffocating weight of the connection was not one sided. He was suffering from the same debilitating realizations as you were. His issue was not with your heart nor your intentions, and much less about his anger, now. In fact, the motivator for his actions no longer coincided with the reasons he showed up at your door. Now, he was driven by his pure enjoyment of seeing you in such a state.

Perhaps the truth of the sadism accusations the two of you grew so fond of had finally found its proper place. It was hanging over his head in a blinding fashion, a horrific branding, almost as if it was always meant to be there. He was no longer proving a point; that was made long before he even shed an article of clothing. Instead, it was replaced by an undying desire to leave you in such a state where the only coherent thought you could form was his name.

“What’s wrong, angel?” He dared ask the question despite knowing exactly why you were upset. “Why are you upset?” His fake sympathy was nothing short of infuriating. You were well aware of your place, now, knowing that if you refused to play into him, you would never get what you wanted.

“Please, Jake. I need you.” You pleaded, hoping for a shred of compassion. “Need you so bad, baby. I can’t take it anymore.” He slowly let you down to your feet, making sure you were steady before taking a step back from you. The scene was pathetic; you were naked, begging for his attention while he stood carelessly, almost completely clothed. Had anyone else attempted to do the same, it would be laughable. Somehow, Jake made the situation seem completely normal, like it was an everyday occurrence that he had a girl begging for him so desperately while he was so careless. And because it was for him, you didn’t seem to see an issue with it, either.

He grabbed your hand, giving you a gentle pull away from the wall. Even though the action was emotionless on his part, you couldn’t help but hope. “You’re only okay with being a whore if you’re getting something from it?” He let out a disapproving tsk, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I don’t know what to do with you, sweetheart.” He said, almost as if he was defeated. “Can’t ever seem to please you, can I? You always want more.”

“Jake, please.” Your attempt was fruitless. He didn’t care what you had to say, and it was blatantly obvious.

“Today’s about teaching you how to care about somebody other than yourself, angel. Gotta learn how to give if you’re ever going to get.” Your eyes fluttered closed, not wanting to show your frustration with him, but finding it impossible not to. “On your knees.” He ordered. Before you even had time to process his words, he snapped again. “Now.” You did as you were told, sinking to the floor in a hurry. Once you were ready for his next advance, you looked up at his face. He was watching you, expression still cold, but a hint of warmth flickered in his eye. It was the most comforting thing you had seen from him all day, and you wished you could hold on to it forever.

Despite your anger, you couldn’t overlook the sight before you. You wanted an orgasm, but pleasuring him was the next best thing. Sometimes, it was even better. One of his hands brushed over your cheek, a brief moment of love before he grabbed your hair in his fist. He was anything but gentle, but you didn’t mind. If allowing him to air his feelings out would mean things could return back to normal, you were happy to oblige. Your mouth was watering at the sight of him, uncaring about anything other than him being inside you again, no matter which way. You were addicted to him, always needing more but never fully satisfied. He was right in saying so, because you knew you could never get enough of him.

“You’re going to be good for me, and then maybe I’ll consider giving you what you want. And don’t you dare try to get yourself off, either.” He was clear about his rules, and you weren’t willing to contest. “I can’t be the only one putting in the effort, baby.” As he spoke, his grip on your hair only tightened. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.” You said, barely hearing his words. You were stuck in awe of his beauty, how effortless it was all of the time.

“That’s my girl,” he smiled, but it was a twisted one. He wasn’t pleased at your obedience, but more at the thought of using you as he pleased. “Open.” His command shot through you, immediately springing you into action. As soon as your lips parted, he guided your head towards his cock. He didn’t care for caution, but but remained hyper-aware of your every move, ready to stop the second you showed slight discomfort. He thrusted his hips forward, stripping you of any control. There was no grace period, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat with little warning. You couldn’t help but feel a gag arise, the feeling foreign but not unwelcome.

The feeling of your throat constricting around him was almost too much for him, a groan sounding from his chest. He was driven by pleasure, the feeling of your mouth was something he could never forget. He started at a steady pace, holding your head while his hips did the work. You were barely starting and already struggling to keep up with him, but you were aching to please him. The feeling of him in your mouth and down your throat was overwhelming, but it was fantastic all the same. As tears welled in your eyes, you were worried you wouldn’t be able to give him what you wanted, but the feeling of making him feel good was too wonderful to deny. Giving Jake the same thing he gave you was more than you could ever ask for and all you ever wanted to do.

“That’s it, angel.” His praise was followed by another breathy moan. The sounds he made were certainly better than any other sound in the world. Far superior to any promise of eternal happiness. You wished you could spend every lifetime hearing him speak his songs of pleasure. You couldn’t help but let out a moan yourself, although muffled, just to show him you were happy to serve him. He began moving your head down on him as he thrusted, crazed by the feeling and wanting even more. You tried to steady your breathing, the lack of air giving you a slight sense of panic. You closed your eyes, focused only on him and the sounds he was making. “Look so pretty with my cock in your mouth.” The vulgarity was anything but beautiful, but he had a way of making everything sound gorgeous.

The tears spilled down your cheeks, a mess of mascara littering your skin. You weren’t certain you could keep up with him much longer, but luckily for you, he was getting close to slowing down. He kept his pace for a few moments longer, but the sensation was too much and he willed himself to stop. When he pulled away, you were shocked at the suddenness of his action. A prickle of fear ran through you, worried that you hadn’t done a good enough job. In truth, it was too good. “I should just cum in your mouth and leave you here.” He theorized, his chest heaving a heavy breath as he spoke. “Like you so much better when you can’t fucking talk back.” You blinked away the last few tears that had formed, regaining your composure and catching your breath. You knew it was an act, but you couldn’t help but feel the sting of his words settle all over.

He looked down at you, noticing the state you were in. His eyes softened, always worried about taking it too far. He reached down, thumb swiping away any tears still lingering on your cheeks. Your eyes fluttered closed at the contact, appreciating any bit of affection he was willing to give. “I wouldn’t do that to you, sweetheart. You know that.” You nodded, opting to keep your eyes closed for just a moment longer. “Stand up for me, baby.” He coaxed, tone more gentle than it was before. You did as he asked, slowly rising to your feet. Once you were steady, he guided you back towards the wall. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, taking a good look at his face, now. Somehow even amidst the chaos, he radiated comfort. You were certain he could make the worst of feelings dissolve into nothing. “I’m okay.” He let out a sigh of relief, happy that you were still alright. As much as he enjoyed pushing you, your comfortability with it was his main priority.

“You did so good, angel. Exactly what I wanted.” He said, fingers returning to your cheek for a loving caress. “Not so hard to do what you’re told, is it?”

“No,” you replied, still unwilling to contest his dominance. He leaned in, placing a kiss to your lips. It was sweet, only lasting for a moment before he straightened up once more. Without another word, he sunk to his knees below you. You watched in admiration, wondering if he was really going to be so kind. When he guided your leg over his shoulder, relief flooded through you. You rested your back against the wall, eager for him to advance. His lips trailed over the skin of your thigh, almost too gentle for the occasion. You let your fingers settle in his hair, softly holding him for encouragement.

He seemed to draw out the buildup painfully long, making sure you were quivering with anticipation before he even thought to touch you. Slowly but surely, he connected his mouth with your cunt, his tongue exploring every part of you, savouring the taste of his own hard work. He barely had to do a thing to turn you into a mess again, moans slipping past your lips with every slight moment. You were close to an orgasm just at the thought of his tongue, and feeling him in such a way after so much teasing was phenomenal. His tongue settled on your clit, barely stimulating you at all. Even so, you were more than happy that he allowed you anything at all.

“Fuck, Jake.” You groaned, fingers tightening in his hair. He hummed against you, letting you know how much he loved hearing you say his name like that. “Feels so fucking good.” The words were shaky, filled with every emotion you had been feeling since he arrived. Even if you were desperate for a climax, you were still just as content to enjoy him in the moment. He picked up his pace, the intensity of his actions sending a wave of pleasure through every nerve in your body. You couldn’t help but grind your hips against his mouth, begging for more. His fingers had a firm grasp on you, sure to decorate your thigh with marks to remember him by.

You were already close, the edging from before had ensured you were extremely sensitive. Every stroke of his tongue was like a push closer to the edge. He could tell just by the sound of you, the tremble in your legs, the grasp you had on his hair. It was fuelling his ego, as if it needed to be inflated any further. The muscles in your leg tensed, pulling him in further without even realizing it. Your heartbeat was violent against your ribs, the knot in your belly barely hanging on. Your chest heaved with each breath as you tried to keep up with your need for air. The pleasure was so intense that it was almost hard to breathe. With one particularly whiny moan, he realized he had you right where he wanted you to be. He worked faster, more precise with his movement as he inched you closer to an orgasm. A slur of curses fell from your lips, your forehead glistening with sweat as you prepared for the inevitable peak of pleasure. You couldn’t keep yourself quiet, loudly but wordlessly pleading for him to keep going. Just as you felt your abdomen tense, you were torn out of the clouds and harshly brought back to earth.

He had stopped, pulled away completely and was looking up at you with a smug smile. Between the searing feeling of losing the orgasm and the anger for his attitude, you let out a primal wail through closed teeth, lessening the impact of the sound. You were frustrated, ready to give up and leave to spare yourself from any more disappointment. You couldn’t even bear the thought of looking at him, scared it would shatter the small bit of dignity you had left. Before you had a chance to speak, the crushing feeling was replaced with one of pleasure. He had returned to you, continuing his tirade as if there was never a disturbance in the first place. The suddenness of his actions was giving you whiplash, a false sense of hope for a climax began to bloom once more. A cry of relief sounded as his tongue returned to its previous place, sounding only louder as he brought his hand to you as well. As his mouth made quick work at getting you back to your prior state, he slipped his fingers inside you, pumping them at a steady pace with a slight curl as he entered.

You were in too much bliss to speak, only focused on the heavenly feeling of him touching you. You hated that he made it so easy to forget any ill feelings, so easy to fall into his trap. He was magnificent, every move perfectly calculated with intent to kill. He wanted you to be so immersed in him that you couldn’t stand the thought of another person doing the same things he did to you. He wanted to be the only thing in your mind forever, and it was working. It was impossible to want anything other than Jake, especially when he was right in front of you. You felt guilty, but not on Sam’s behalf. Usually by now you would be mortified by your own actions, haunted by your choices and your inability to learn from your mistakes. This time, the only guilt you had was for letting three days pass without being touched by Jake. It was so good that not even your constant moral dilemma could interfere, this time. Perhaps there was a smidge of guilt for not even thinking of the other boy, but every time it arose, it was abolished in an instant.

It seemed like the longer your entanglement dragged on, the more blurry the line between right and wrong appeared. The dance continued, and your morals cracked under the weight of your step.

He was no stranger to your body, the small time he spent getting to know it was more than what he needed to memorize your likes and dislikes. Getting you to an orgasm was easier than writing his own name; he only needed to do it once to master the process. You could barely keep your thoughts straight, the feeling so intense that it clouded your mind and numbed anything else. You couldn’t even find the energy to worry if he was going to pull away or not. The only thing you cared about was the utmost effort that he was pouring into you. “J-jake, please don’t stop.” You gasped. Your eyes were squeezed shut, every nerve in your body was on fire, you felt like if he let go of you, you would collapse without the support. “God, please, baby. I need it so bad.” For a brief second, you believed your begging was finally working. He seemed intent, no sign of pulling away. His grip was tight on your thigh and he couldn’t help but let his own noises of pleasure escape him every now and again. He seemed more invested in you than you were in him, and that was almost impossible. If he didn’t think there was a need to punish you, he would have spent all night between your legs without a complaint.

A particularly needy cry left your mouth, one soaked in desperation. He knew how badly you wanted it, and he was almost ready to give in. As your leg trembled over his shoulder, the last warning sign before your desired outcome, he came back to reality pulled away again. This time, the guttural sound that tore from your mouth was almost painful to listen to. Tears of frustration prickled at your eyes, and you had to clench your teeth to stop yourself from another protest. He watched you, revelling in the state you were in. It was so enchanting that he couldn’t even look away. To know that he could bring you to such a state was a wonderful feeling, and he wasn’t sure if he could ever let it go. You couldn’t even will yourself to look at him again, but for a much different reason this time. You were afraid that if you did, the tears you wanted to keep hidden would make even more of an appearance. You were exhausted, at your limit, and unsure if you could continue on with his game. You were beginning to believe he wouldn’t let you cum at all, and that thought was deeply unsettling. Although, you were beginning to understand that you had ultimately done the same thing to him, but in a much more hurtful manner.

He rose from his knees, slowly reaching for your face. He wiped away the tears that had fallen, only half-sympathetic to your anguish. “Turn around for me, baby.” He ordered, but the words were soft. You did as you were told, no argument to give. When you were facing the wall, he took hold of your hips. He pulled you back towards him, then pushed your upper half back towards the wall. “Have you had enough?” You could feel him lining himself up with you as he asked. You couldn’t help but push yourself back on him, unable to control yourself. You needed him in the same way a starving man needed nourishment. You needed him in the same way the sun needed the moon, or how the earth needed water. It was primal, something greater than survival, and you needed it right then and there. He couldn’t even utter a word of complaint, the sensation catching him off guard and sending him in the same down-spiral you were stuck in. You were no longer two individuals who were angry, hurting with no way of expressing it. You were one with each other, finally seeming to see the same things and meet on common ground.

“Do you know how badly I wanted this?” He asked, using the strength in his arms to pull you back on him. “How terrible it was to know that somebody else had you like this?” Another harsh thrust sent your head spinning and the moans tumbling from your lips. “To know somebody else’s name was on your lips?” You were delirious from the moment he began to fuck you, drunk off his presence and willing to do anything to keep him like this. “To know that he couldn’t do it right? That he couldn’t give you what I can?”

A cry of pleasure ran through you as he slammed into you again. He moved one hand to your shoulder, holding you steady as he continued his relentless movements. You were on cloud nine, barely breathing and unable to care about anything he was saying.

“Tell me how good it feels, angel. Tell me how much you love it when I fuck you.” He growled, uncaring about the roughness of his grasp on you and completely unaware of the reality of his words. He was begging you, although it didn’t seem like it. He was desperate to hear how much you wanted him, how he was the only one who could do it right. It was a possessive claim, jealousy seeping through every available crack in his persona. He was in the race until the end, willing to fight for you no matter the outcome, but it did not mean he was immune to the pain of knowing there was another person in the race. The stab of knowing someone else got to touch you, to love you like he so badly wanted to. He may have done it to himself, but it did not mean he was blind to any turmoil he had created.

“Feels so good, Jake.” You groaned, the words surrounding him like a blanket of comfort. “You made me feel so good. I missed you so much.” The final part of your statement was like a punch to the stomach. It hit him so brutally that he thought he might keel over from the force. His hand snaked up to your hair, collecting it in his fist and holding it tightly. He guided your head to the side, just enough for him to lean down and kiss you. The act was beautiful, so peaceful amongst the obscene display. You knew you could spend all day kissing him and never need anything else. When he parted from your lips, he remained close to your face, not quite ready to break from the bubble of comfort that surrounded him.

“Have you learned your lesson, yet?” He asked, distancing himself from you just slightly. “Do you know why you should have waited?”

“G-god, yes.” You nodded against the force of his hand holding your head in place. He never broke his momentum, hips still slamming into you relentlessly. It was painfully good, each thrust hitting you with more power every time. You didn’t know if you could hold back your orgasm, this time, especially if he wasn’t willing to stop.

“You know I’m the only one who can make you feel this good, angel. Nobody else can fuck you like this.” Instead of a response, another whine fell from your lips. The pressure in your belly was excruciatingly strong, he could feel it without you even saying anything at all.

“N-nobody else, baby.” You had no guilt in the statement, either, finally crossing the final line between right and wrong. Now, no need seemed more important than the one that was pressing for you to please him. No more guilt for the back and fourth, just enjoyment for the attention you received amidst their fighting. Every moral was blurred, diminishing and lines crossing, melting into each other. You were not a pawn for them to play with, a little piece to their game in which they flaunted for advantage. You were playing, now. Your own strategies and tactics surfacing to throw them off, to make them think before walking blindly. The power was in fact yours, and you were finally able to understand that. The power to hurt, to love, and to end it all in an instant. The sorrow truth was that you weren’t ready for it to be over; you were the only one who could stop it, but you didn’t have the strength to do it. You didn’t know how to do it. The blissful joy of the love they both gave to you was so beautiful that you had no idea how to refuse it.

“You want to cum, angel?” He asked, meaning his words this time. Your mistrust of him was still there, but your hope was that you were wrong in doubting his intentions. He had pushed you far beyond your limits, and you were hoping he could see that, too.

“Y-yes please, sir.” You stuttered, the knot painfully tightening once again. You couldn’t hold back, the need to climax stronger than anything you had ever experienced before. You were tense, vibrating at the thought of him being generous enough to allow it. You knew you were completely at his disposal, but you didn’t seem to care. There was no fight in you, just complete submission to him. The only thing you could do was pray that he had fulfilled his need for punishment, that he believed you were worthy of forgiveness. “Please, Jake. I need it so bad. Please,” you gasped, feeling him reach around your hips. Within an instant, his fingers found your clit and wasted no time tracing small circles into the sensitive area.

The noise that came out of you was inhuman, all of your desperation making a show in the single sound. You could tell it affected his mood; he was practically radiating emotion for you. “You were so good for me, angel." He confessed. You could hear his own internal battle against his own orgasm just through his words. “Come on, baby. Cum for me.” The words were the best thing you could ever hear. Some part of you believed he would never give in, but the permissive statement was too glorious to ignore. Within seconds, you had descended into a mess of words, none really with any significance, but you had no other way to express how good you felt. The slur of curses were decorated with his name, cemented in a few guttural moans to commemorate his excellent performance. You could barely keep yourself standing, your legs were weak, wobbly underneath the weight of you. If not for him holding you up, you were certain the ground below you would be your new home. “That’s it,” he strangled out, affected greatly by your state. “That’s my girl.” The words were like a catalyst for a second orgasm. You weren’t sure if you were stuck in perpetual motion, in limbo with one long, drawn out climax, or if he had sent you into a second before you even had the chance to recover. No matter which it was, you were certain you had never felt like that before in your entire lifetime. If he wasn’t addictive before, you knew you could never escape him, now.

“Did that feel good?” He asked, never slowing his pace. “You feel better now, beautiful?” You managed out a whine that had semblance to an agreement. He wasn’t far behind you, for the first time that evening his movements stuttered, sloppy after a long stretch of tormenting you. As much as you wanted him to feel the same way you had, you didn’t want it to end. You were so crazy for him that you couldn’t stand the thought of stopping.

“So much better.” You assured him, but you had no time to think about your relief. His effect on you was stronger than ever, perhaps because of your withdrawal from him, or just because he was so intoxicating. It only took a moment for another climax to begin creeping up on you. The feeling was intense, almost like it was driving you insane. Partially due to overstimulation, but mostly because of his relentless focus on you. His hand was still working in time with his hips, and he knew exactly what he was doing. The sensation was overwhelming, yes, but he was more so, without a doubt.

“Can you do it again, angel?” He said, a hint of the devil in his eyes. Although you couldn’t see it, you knew him well enough to know it was there.

“I don’t know,” you warned. The feeling was good, no doubt, but it was intense. It felt like it was taking over every nerve, shouting over every thought.

“You can. I know you can.” He encouraged. You knew his encouragement was due to his own inability to hold back any longer. He wanted you to cum with him, and it was not a desire he was willing to debate. Thankfully, as much as you lacked confidence in yourself, you knew with his guidance it would not be difficult to fulfil his wish. You could feel it in your bones, the strength of the orgasm that he was coaxing from you. “Come on, angel.” He pleaded. “Be a good girl for me, I know you can.” He repeated himself, and the consistency was all you needed. If possible, the climax that washed over you was more intense than the one before. Your brain felt as if it was short circuiting, filled only with thoughts about the boy behind your source of pleasure. He was invading every part of your brain, taking over with little effort and making home forever. You held the wall for support, trying to keep yourself steady, but in truth, his hands were the only thing holding you up. Once you surrendered to the pleasure, it didn’t take long for him to follow suit and spill his release into you. The orgasm was extremely overwhelming for both of you, leaving you in a mess of tangled limbs and sweaty bodies. The air was filled with moans and swears, both of you echoing each others names like it was a hymn of love for each other. When you both came down, he was reluctant to move. He wanted to live in that moment forever. He leaned forward, pressing a few delicate kisses into your shoulder. Your eyes fluttered closed at the feeling, wishing you could exist with the softest version of Jake for the rest of your life.

“I’m sorry.” You spoke first, breaking through the silence. “I didn’t want to hurt you. I never want to hurt you.”

“I’m sorry, too.” He admitted to his own wrongdoing with no hesitation. “It wasn’t my place to be upset.”

“No,” You shook your head. “You’re allowed to be upset.” His hand drifted over your bare back, the touch electrifying you in a whole new way. He didn’t want to keep talking about the subject. In his mind, he was over it.

“I like you, Gold Dust Woman.” He said, gently pulling you away from the wall. “A lot.” He carefully maneuvered you into a hug, his arms wrapping around you and his hands settling on your stomach. You felt all of the tension melt away as his chin rested on your shoulder.

“I like you, Jake.” You admitted. You could feel his smile as he placed a kiss to your cheek.

“I was hoping you did.” He hummed, showing no sign of letting go. “I think those were the most beautiful sounds this booth has ever heard.” He noted. “I know they’re the most beautiful ones I’ve ever heard.” You felt a blush dust across your cheek, a small giggle sounding from you. “Maybe next time I should hit that record button, take something home with me.”

“You can take me home, Jacob. Isn’t that better?”

“Better for sure, but I can’t always take you home, angel.” His words were light, but the meaning was heavy. Although the air was clear, the situation was certainly not resolved. Unfortunately for him, it would take a final decision before that wound was healed. “Get dressed, I’m taking you to dinner.” That was his final order, his original doting persona beginning to surface and was bound to stay for the rest of the night.

“Looking like this?” the idea was incredulous to you, but he had no worry in the world about it.

“You’ll still be the prettiest one there.” He placed another kiss to your cheek before carefully removing himself from you. You thought that was impossible, because he would be there. “Now come on, I’ve got lost time to make up for.” He reminded, but you hadn’t forgotten. His disappearance was still haunting you, the hole in your chest not fully closed because you were scared he would leave again. When you turned and looked at him, you realized that was the last thing he wanted to do.

You both left the studio with a bit more pep in your step than before, but it was not quite enough to stop the looming threat of the biggest struggle yet. You both had made up for your mistakes, apologized for the lack of communication and bruised feelings, but it was nothing short of a surface conflict, and the apologies were tiny compared to the lasting wound it left in its wake. You hadn’t really discussed it at all, just expressed your distaste and brushed over the biggest aggressor. Still, that was minuscule in comparison to the bigger picture. Your momentary hurt was only a stepping stone to guide you to the window of truth. The real issue lied within something much deeper; you and Jake had surpassed the threshold of simplicity. You both held the power to hurt each other, now, and the imminent threat of that was much larger than anything else you had ever experienced before.

Did she make you cry?

Make you break down?

TAGLIST: @itsdannysworld @gretavansara @jaketlove @laneygvf @freefallthoughts @psychedelicsprinkles @idontwannabeherenow @joshysgirl @sanguinebats @objectsinspvce

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megaxard · 1 year

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kh1 compilation! i sorted all these posts very heavily and it just so shook out that there was enough for a kh1 post. stay tuned for a days post. or, more likely, many days posts,

[original thread] [#1, riku] [#2, xigbar] [#3, xemnas] [#4, soriku] [#5, leaisa] [#6, roxas] [#8, axel/lea] [#9, demyx] [#10, CoM] [#11, DiZ hate] [#12, CoM/coded]

#storm text post edits #kingdom hearts #riku #riku kh #kh1 #idk its mostly riku. it feels weird to tag the others. is there a destiny trio tag? not that it MATTERS i used up my 5 #unless tumblr tags are more functional now #destiny trio

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murderbot-fanimation-project · 4 months

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SPOTLIGHT ON: Murderbot Fanimation Project Backgrounds!

(Part 3 of 3) (Jump to part [1] [2])

They may be the literal background of the finished product, but the backgrounds done for the Murderbot Diaries Fanimation Project deserve their time in the spotlight!

Part of what makes the Fanimation stand out as much as it does is the love, care, and attention to detail that the artists poured into the backgrounds. The team stuck closely to the source texts when designing the spaces, producing some beautiful pieces of art that deserve appreciation on their own.

You can watch the Murderbot Diaries Fanimation Project here.

In this final part, we look at some of the backgrounds that we animated to give them that extra wow factor. Some of the shots in the Murderbot Fanimation have backgrounds completely made in 3D - the opening shot and the post-credits scene, for example. But the shots in this post are mostly 2D imagery, with some 3D components and clever editing that bring them to life.

Deltfall Habitat - Background art and motion editing by @broken-risk-assessment-module , habitat model created by TechnicalToad and rendered by @theash0

"I climbed the ladder up to the roof hatch and popped it. The armor’s boots have magnetized climbing clamps, and I used them to cross over the curving roofs to the third habitat and then around to the second."

Milu Storm - 3D model of the corridor by TechnicalToad, storm effect created by @theash0 using, among many other elements, an effect created by @chimaerakitten

"Swirling, towering clouds, filled with electrical discharges, obscured any view of the surface. [...] It was immense, and wrong, and terrible and beautiful all at the same time. I stood there for what I later clocked as twenty-two seconds, just staring."

Docking Bay Door - Background, foreground, and door textures illustrated by Vanessa. 3D door composited and animated by @theash0

"Gurathin knelt beside an open maintenance floor panel next to the gate, tools scattered around, and Ratthi held a light for him. The panel was painted with an emergency feed marker label that in a selection of different languages read 'Manual Release.'"

Docking Bay Corridor - Illustrated by @nirelaz , motion editing by @theash0

"Our shuttle slot was six locks down, glowing emergency lighting showing me Mensah standing beside it holding a small energy weapon."

Bonus higher-quality stills of those last two to appreciate the detail:

(Docking Bay Door by Vanessa)

(Docking Bay Corridor by @nirelaz - you can find more of the backgrounds Nirelaz did for this project here)

#murderbot #the murderbot diaries #mbfanimationproject #behind the scenes #murderbot fanart #all systems red #rogue protocol #exit strategy #background art

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writefightandflightclub · 10 months

Text

Blorbo thought of the day #3

Dear Diary, I met an asshole. (Nathan Bateman x reader)

A/n: quick little Nathan x reader dialogue / blurb. Bickering / sass, bit of silliness, slight fluff. (Edited a bit since first posting!)

***

“It’s rude to do that,” you scold, as Nathan leans over your shoulder, peeking at your scrawled journal entry. You wrap your arm, protecting the page from his prying eyes - a little too late though, you fear.

“It’s rude to violate your NDA, sweetheart.” You scowl at him. “Okay. Not rude. Illegal… But also rude.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Yeah. If you’rewriting about my robots, I’m gonna have to confiscate that.”

“I’m not writing about your robots,” you lie, but Nathan simply eyes you over the rim of his glasses, arcing a thick eyebrow. You tut in concession. “Fine. You got me.”

He extends his hand. “Give it here then.”

“Woah. No way. I’m not giving you my diary.”

His face twists in distaste. “You keep a diary? What are you, 12?”

You study him and hum pensively at the thought of Nathan employing similar habits. “Hmm, yeah. You know what? I can totally see why self-reflection really wouldn’t appeal to you.”

He perches one pert ass cheek on the short edge of your desk. “Dear diary,” he ponders, considering what form his own entry might take. “Today I was fucking amazing.” He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and smirks at you. “You’re right. Would get a little repetitive.”

You fail to return his smile, instead, offering an alternative. “Dear diary. Today I ate 3 packets of hot Cheetos in my sweats. Almost rubbed one out right there on the couch - before remembering the effects of chilli dust. Lucky escape.”

You are satisfied when the smirk drops from his face for a moment. He clears his throat as your assessment hits a little on the nose. “Whatever. I’d still rather be me on my worst day.” You scoff. “Anyway. Seriously. I need to take that.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Relax. I’ll redact anything in violation and hand it right back to you.”

“Um, emphatically no.”

“Oh please. Worried about me uncovering your deep, dark secrets? Do you think I’m clamouring for your pedestrian internal monologue? You don’t need to keep any secrets from me, honey. I’m literally not interested.”

You clutch the notebook to your chest all the same, and you mumble something under your breath. Nathan urges you to speak up and you repeat it, a little louder. “But… I’ve.. um. I’ve written quite a lot about you.”

He flashes you a lopsided smile, all smug. “Of course you have, honey.” If it’s possible, his tone grows even more grandiose. “I suppose it’ll be interesting to read how you mere mortals perceive me.”

At that, you’re just about done.

You arc an eyebrow, and you hand the notebook over to him. “Knock yourself out, Nathan.”

***

“‘Dear Diary, I met an asshole.’” Nathan quotes, storming into the living area with your opened notebook balanced across one broad palm. “Seriously?”

You scoff from your vantage point on the couch as he eyes you indignantly, immediately reaching for the remote to turn down the volume. This is going to be good. “Fun read?”

“Trite, rambling, redundant.”

You stifle a smile. “I dunno, Nate. You seem invested.”

“Surprisingly, some of your comments were actually quite insightful,” he admits, with a cock of his head.

You nod in emphatic agreement. “‘Dear diary, I met an asshole.’”

He scowls at you. “Not that one.”

You stretch your legs out, kicking your feet up onto the coffee table. “I dunno. Seems on the money to me. I mean. What kind of asshole reads someone’s diary?”

He sighs, and you scooch over a little so he can plonk himself down next to you, dropping the notebook in your lap. You leaf through it, finding that text on particular pages had been redacted with thick black marker. He’s really gone through every single bit of it.

“Happy now?” you ask him, risking a glance and finding him sat sulkily, arms folded over his shapely chest.

“No.”

“Okay.” You don’t ask him to elaborate, and instead reach to turn up the volume - until he interjects, that is.

“I expected…”

“Expected what, Nathan? Expected me to be impressed by you or something?”

He scratches his buzzed head. “Well duh.”

You turn you body in towards him on the couch, leaning one elbow against the back edge and propping your head so you can get a good look at him.

“What do you care anyway? Last I heard you were uninterested in my ‘pedestrian internal monologue’.”

He tuts. Wafting his palm through the air and his eyes fluttering closed in frustration. “Never mind.”

“Okay.”

You’re happy to oblige him. In fact, you are about to turn back to the tv once more until-

“-You really think I’m an asshole?” His voice is soft. Vulnerable. At least - more so than you’ve ever heard it. It gives you pause. Subdues the edge of your bite.

“Well… When I first met you? Hell yeah.”

His dark, calculating eyes study you. “And how about now?”

Your cheeks heat subtly under his gaze, burning with self-consciousness. “Well,” you dismiss. “That’s redacted.”

“Come on.” He elbows you gently in the ribs. “I know all your secrets now.”

“Not all,” you counter, attempting to come off mysterious.

“No?”

“Nuh uh.” You smile at him, beckoning him closer with a waft of your hand, until he leans in placing your mouth a hair’s breadth from the shell of his ear. “Now, Nathan? You’ve been downgraded to annoying.”

His eyes roll into oblivion as you laugh and tease him.

“Come on, Nathan. It’s not as though you like me any better, right?”

For once, he seemingly doesn’t have anything else to say. His gaze simply flits over your face, his eyes -dare you say it- warm. That is, until he grabs up a notebook from the table, turns to the back page and starts scribbling. Then, the smug, arrogant countenance makes its return.

“What are you doing?”

“Writing exactly what I think of you.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmm hmm.”

He scribbles hastily, keeping the page covered from your view, and smirking to himself all the while, his mouth dragging up beneath the raven brush of his beard.

Then, Nathan unceremoniously places the closed book on the table right in front of you, before wafting (smugly) out of the room.

You eye the book with intense interest. As though suddenly, nothing else exists. You eye it enough that you can feel your gaze almost burning a hole in the back cover.

Exactly what Nathan thinks of you? And he left it right there? In front of you?

Of course, after a moment’s deliberation, you can’t help yourself. You reach for it, arm outstretched.

“Ah ah, princess.” You jump out of your skin, as Nathan’s tinny voice bleeds through the intercom. “What kind of asshole reads someone’s diary?”

You. You think you’re that exact kind of asshole, and what’s more, he knows it.

You reach for the book and flip to last page, and you begin to read.

“Dear diary…”

#nathan bateman #nathan bateman x reader

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tenelkadjowrites · 2 years

Text

Arrow in the Dark - Final Part: Dynasty - Seonghwa x Reader (NSFW)

PART ONE HERE. PART TWO HERE.

🏖️ Summary: With the beach house weekend finally here, certain decisions need to be made in regards to the ever changing relationship you have with your fake boyfriend, Seonghwa.

🏖️ Word count: 21k

🏖️ Genre and warnings: wealthy seonghwa. fem pronouns for reader. fake dating trope. depictions of emotionally manipulative parents. depictions of drinking. car sex, semi public sex. unprotected sex. creampie, cum eating. dirty talk, praise kink.

🏖️ Tags: @thewonderofkpop - @obligatoryidolblog - @iusrene - @yunhofingers - @foggyinternetchaos - @multihoe-net - @spiderrenjunfics - @whatudowhennooneseesyou - @jess-1404 - @just-here-to-read-01 - @lilhwahwa - @btsreader12 - @talkbykhalid - @rdiamond2727 - @inneratinyrebel - @8tinytings - @xirenex - @meowmeowminnie - @revehosh - @nevieatiny - @nirvanawrites111 - @madamdionysia - @a-tiny-teez - @idunnowhatonameit - @jejeyeppeo - @ateezourstars - (sorry if i missed anyone.)

🏖️ Author’s note: Due to being heavily impacted by Hurricane Ian this isn’t edited with the usual hyper attention to detail I typically give my fics in order to cut myself a break during this time. I ask for your understanding while reading this in regards to any typos, etc.

this fic is not meant to represent Seonghwa in any way, shape or form.

In the glaring light of the morning, your phone vibrates with a notification. You are on very little sleep, mind buzzing from Seonghwa’s words to you the night prior, the nerves of the impending beach house weekend and your own storm of feelings about him. By Monday morning, certain things were going to have to be decided: if you are going to accept the money for pretending to be his girlfriend and if you were going to tell him the ever growing intense feelings you now harbor for him.

Groggily, you grab your phone, wondering why Hwa would text you this early. It is only a little past eight in the morning and he isn’t coming to get you until noon. But it is an Instagram notification instead. Curiously, you unlock your phone and bring Seonghwa’s latest post up.

It is of his lavender oat milk latte with just a caption of a purple heart emoji. Surprised, you sit up a little, staring at the photo. The conversation from the first meeting in the coffee shop comes back to you.

“It’s an oat milk lavender latte,” He pushes it towards you, “Do you want to try it?”

“Oh, uh, no thank you,” You say sheepishly, “I was just curious. It’s pretty. You should have taken a pic of it.”

Seonghwa blinks in surprise, looking back down at the ruined art on top. “Why?”

“Cuz it’s so pretty. That way you’d always remember it and how you felt when you first saw it,” You explain.

“I never…thought of it like that before.”

You shrug. “Maybe next time.”

You don’t know why a photo of his coffee makes your heart race but it does. It just feels like more evidence that there is something else going on between the two of you besides money, sex and tentative friendship. Kicking the covers off your legs, you decide it is time to get ready. Whatever happens this weekend between you and Seonghwa, the thing that matters the most is making sure he can get out of his arranged marriage. You have your doubts that his parents, especially his dad, would actually agree to stop trying to force Hwa into it. Secretly, you wish he would realize how manipulative and horrible they are and that they care more about the company than their own son. But for Seonghwa, you are determined to try your best to be as helpful as possible.

Opening the car door, you slide into the passenger seat, relieved that Hwa didn’t show up in the limo. You toss your bag in the backseat and wiggle down a little, trying to make your skirt go to your knees. This is the only other semi-nice outfit you own although you don’t know why you bother when his parents won’t find it up to their standards.

Seonghwa’s eyes flash down to your thighs as you move the skirt down before looking up at you. “Got everything?”

“I guess so,” You say, studying Seonghwa’s face. Even though it has only been a night of not seeing him, it feels like forty years. He looks a little tired, wearing an oversized white button up shirt with the sleeves folded up a bit, exposing his arms which your gaze lingers on. It hits you just how endless the time without him felt and how you cannot get enough of him. That scares you; never in your life have you craved being around someone and never before have you felt so much over one singular person. It isn’t just lust at play or even a “crush” but something running much deeper. “Uh, how long of a drive is it to the beach house?”

“About an hour if we hit traffic,” He replies and he sneaks another gaze at your legs. You clench your thighs, trying to ignore the fact that you have been around Seonghwa for about one minute and your body is already responding to him in such a manner.

Seonghwa pulls the car carefully back into the street. The radio is playing music quietly. Neither of you speak. It isn’t awkward exactly but it isn’t comforting either. You wonder if he is preoccupied by the upcoming weekend or if nerves are getting to the both of you about pretending to date all weekend.

Trying to find something to talk about, you say, “I liked your picture this morning. Of the coffee.”

He glances at you out of the corner of his eye. “Yeah? I grabbed it this morning and thought about what you said the first time we met up.”

“Congrats on your first Instagram coffee photo. You’re just like everyone else now.”

Seonghwa smiles quickly, ducking his head a little to look out the side window as he makes a turn. “I guess so.”

“Now we just have to get you caught up on every important pop culture moment of the last fifty years and then you can make boring small talk at all those future dull company meetings you’re gonna be attending one day,” You remark, leaning back in the seat.

When Seonghwa looks back over the steering wheel, you can see his expression has soured. “Don’t remind me. Yesterday was so boring. And father loves it. He’s completely in his element navigating bossing people around and studying numbers. I had a hard time focusing.”

So am I, you think, looking at the curve of his wrists as he holds the steering wheel, his slender fingers curling around it. It is difficult not to think about all the times you fucked him this week or that it has been an entire day since you last had sex with him. It is starting to distract you. A desire this bad is new.

You want to say something thoughtful but your brain offers nothing. The awkward energy in the car remains. You make a noncommittal noise of sympathy instead, your fingers clutching the edge of your skirt for something to hold onto. The car has hit some mild traffic as the edge of the city approaches. Seonghwa taps his fingers against the wheel impatiently.

“Are you okay?” You ask.

“Yes,” He says very quickly, “I’m fine. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just a little tired.”

More silence. You are starting to panic now. How in the world are you going to convince his parents about being in love with each other when everything feels off? Why is it this weird? How can you be both panicking and horny at the same time? You learn something new every day, apparently.

In the middle of your silent panicking, the car stops at yet another red light and Seonghwa brings his hand over and rests it on your thigh. The touch is a shockwave, your eyes falling on the sight of his fingers against your skin, nails still painted black, a small silver bracelet around his waist. He idly rubs your bare thigh a little, fingers grazing against your skin with a soft pressure. Your breathing goes uneven, shifting slightly in your seat, wondering how you can be this wet this quickly.

The light turns green and the car moves forward through traffic. Still neither of you speak. It feels as if there is a bubble in the car, waiting to pop. His grip on your thigh tightens for a brief second. You fight the urge to…well, you aren’t sure exactly. You just know that by the time you are going to have a chance to fuck him, it will be hours from now. How are you supposed to survive that long?

As if the thought struck him as well, Hwa suddenly mumbles, “Fuck this,” and makes a sudden turn to the right, into a parking lot with what looks like a couple of bars that aren’t open.

“What are you doing?” You ask as he drives the car around to the back where a cluster of trees offers some shadows and the building blocks you from sight of the main road.

Hwa moves his hand off your thigh, rolling his seat back as far as it can go, motioning for you to get in his lap. “I have to fuck you before we get to the house. I can’t wait.”

He doesn’t have to ask twice. As you hike your skirt up around your waist, he unzips his slacks hastily, pulling out his hard cock, helping shift you into his lap, moving your underwear to the side. It takes about two seconds to sink down on his girth; you hadn’t realized how wet you already were. He inhales sharply as you take him, your hands gripping his shoulders as your pussy stretches to accommodate his stiff cock.

You move your hips slowly for a few moments, getting used to him. But you know that it is crazy to be fucking Seonghwa in his car like this – in daylight, nestled between a cusp of trees and closed bars. If anyone else decided to drive back here, it wouldn’t take long to get caught.

That is why you begin to bounce on his cock once you’re used to him, bringing your hips down hard and fast. Seonghwa groans, his lips finding yours, the kiss messy and chaotic. The two of you are fucking as if it has been weeks since seeing one another versus one night. His hands are gripping your ass, bringing you down on his cock so that he fills you up completely, hitting your sweet spot with each movement of your hips.

When he goes to bite your neck, you give a small tug of his hair, “You can’t, we’re seeing your parents afterwards. It looks bad.”

“I don’t care,” He groans, his lips pressing against your neck, his breathing labored.

“I do,” You say firmly.

Seonghwa pulls away with a look of desperation in his eyes as you bounce in his lap. Instead, he leans in for a kiss, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip. Each kiss is messier than the last, more and more urgent, as if the two of you want to consume one another completely. In the distance, you can hear the traffic – horns honking, music blasting out of cars, someone yelling an obscenity at another person. All of that belongs to a world that has no place for you, not right now in any way, not with Seonghwa buried in your cunt and his hands pressing against your lower back, his tongue in your mouth.

One hand moves to your shirt, tugging it up just enough to expose your bra so he can grope your tits with each movement. The two of you are a mess of clothes, moans and the sound of Seonghwa’s hard cock sliding in and out of your wet pussy. Your thighs shake as Hwa brings his other hand to your face, tilting it so that you are looking at him. He is studying you as one finger moves past your lips and in your mouth. You wrap your lips around his finger obediently, sucking on it as Hwa’s breath catches.

“God, I’m going to fill that sweet cunt of yours up with my cum,” His voice is low and he unexpectedly jerks his hips upwards, making you gasp in surprise.

He pulls his finger out of your mouth and crushes your lips in a kiss. His hand is cupping your cheek. Each drive of your hips downward is making both of you groan and grunt, the desperation to climax growing each second. Your lips open against his mouth as he kisses you, knowing his spit is mingling with yours, each moan tumbling from your mouth into his. You are close to cumming, your legs tired from the angle they are positioned in, Seonghwa moving his hips now to take over. Each thrust drives his cock deep in your pussy and he grunts as you cling to him, taking him deep.

“Hwa,” You manage to groan, “I’m gonna cum.”

“I know,” is all he says in reply, one hand wiggling in between your bodies to brush against your clit, “Finish on my cock like the good girl you are, doll, and I’ll give you my load.”

Your clit is swollen and sensitive. Between Hwa’s words, his thrusts upwards and his finger grazing your clit, your orgasm starts immediately. Your head rolls back in pleasure, eyes closing tightly as you climax. Hwa gives one final jerk of his hips into your cunt before you can feel him spilling inside, grunting with each spurt he unloads in your tight hole.

You slump against Hwa, your entire body feeling like it is under a heavy weighted blanket. Your face rests on his shoulder, looking out at the back of the closed bars. His hands are loosely wrapped around your waist as he also tries to collect himself. The whole thing had only taken a few minutes yet it felt so intense that it may as well lasted for hours.

“You know,” You finally speak, your tongue too big for your mouth, “I wanted to look presentable when I got to the beach.”

“You do look presentable,” Hwa replies as you push off his chest, trying to get some feeling back in your legs.

You roll your eyes at him. “I do not.”

Carefully, you pull down your shirt, adjusting your bra as Seonghwa helps you move back into the passenger seat. Your legs protest when you stretch them out, wiggling your skirt back down. You realize Hwa is staring again.

“What?” You ask almost defensively, wondering if you look that bad.

“Nothing,” He says and then adds almost apologetically, “I was just thinking that I like knowing you’re gonna be filled with me the rest of the drive.”

The admission takes you by surprise and you find that your brain doesn’t offer anything up in reply. There is something intimate about what he said.

Hwa, as if noticing the look on your face, smiles quickly before turning his attention to adjusting his seat. After making sure everything is in order, he begins to pull out of the parking space.

“I’m actually surprised you know how to park,” You remark, thinking about how he also successfully placed his car at the grocery store without running someone over and slamming into a car, “I figured you’d still be practicing how to park.”

“‘What’s the point? Everywhere you go has valet,’” He chirps.

You gawk at him, mouth agape. “Did you just…quote a movie at me?”

“I did,” Seonghwa replies, looking very pleased with himself, “I guess I don’t need to learn as much as you thought.”

When Hwa first said “beach house” you were picturing a two story cute looking thing on the beach. Over the course of your time around him, you changed the vision slightly to a large two story adorable house with a front access to a private section of the beach. Then, it altered again to add the guest house to the backyard with a quick pathway to the downtown tourist section.

You were still somehow wrong.

When Seonghwa pulls up to the beach house, you want to point out using the term “house” on it is a joke. It is more of a beach mansion – three stories with a balcony wrapping around the entire third floor, a fenced in backyard that looked to be full of beautiful foliage, and so close to the beach that you could step off the driveway and almost tumble directly into the ocean.

Your nerves hit you square in the chest upon seeing it. Even though the rest of the car trip had gone perfectly (it appeared the only cause of the tension was the desperate desire you two needed to get out quickly) knowing that his parents lurked inside made you feel a bit queasy.

It must show on your face because Hwa reaches for your hand, resting his on top of it gently. “Like I said, the outcome is on me, not you. Just act the way you’ve been around me all week and it should work.”

I don’t know how I act around you anymore. How do I act like I have feelings for you when I actually do now have feelings for you? What if my regular way of acting around you isn’t believable? What if your dad can tell I do have true feelings for you and knows you’re the one acting? A thousand panicked questions bounce around in your brain. You just give Seonghwa a weak smile.

Getting out of the car, someone scurries out of the front door. Hwa greets them by name as they take his bag out of the trunk before opening the back seat to grab your bag.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” You say quickly, “I got it.”

The woman looks surprised, glancing at Hwa as if for guidance. You gently take the bag from her. “Uhm, thank you though.”

“Are you sure?” Hwa asks you, “She’s just going to drop our things off at the guest house.”

“I’m okay, thank you.”

The woman takes Hwa’s bag inside quickly, shooting you a confused glance. Great, even the people working for his family think I’m odd. But your bag in your arms gave you some security; it offered false comfort that if anything went wrong you could leave quickly. It also made you feel bad having someone take your stuff.

You trail after Seonghwa towards the front door. With one last longing look at the ocean, you step inside the house.

Like the penthouse, the foyer is a riot of different shades of blue. Every inch of space is dripping in something expensive – art, vases, statues, random assortment of candles and the like – overwhelming you immediately. You suddenly miss Hwa’s overly minimalistic approach to decorating.

Another woman greets you both before explaining that brunch is ready. You reach for Seonghwa’s hand, not in a “begin scene” sort of way but because your nerves are so intense that you just want to feel him somehow. He gives your hand a small squeeze and walks through the living area, leading you towards the backyard.

It is impossible to take in all the details of the house being thrown at you. The wealth on display makes your head spin. We have a lot of fucking money! is what every item seems to shriek at you.

Brunch is set up on a large patio overlooking the backyard which isn’t a typical backyard but more like a place where you could easily see some seriously amazing parties taking place. There is a pond in the middle of the space with tiny fish darting like gems under the sunlight, a canopy on one side with two lounge chairs, just enough trees planted in certain spots to offer shade without blocking all the beautiful light pouring in. A little further away is what appears to be a hot tub built into some sort of rock enclosure, a waterfall spilling out of the top of it into the hot tub. It even dips into an alcove for privacy, completely shielded from view.

In the distance, just barely, you can make out the roof of what must be the guest house. The tension in your shoulders eases just a little. At least it is far away from the main house, you think.

“You’re late,” Mr. Park’s voice snaps you out of studying the yard.

“We hit traffic,” Seonghwa replies formally, pulling out a chair at the table, motioning for you to take a seat.

Mrs. Park is looking at you as if a feral animal accidently dropped you off here. Your bag lands with a thump by your feet as you take a seat, Hwa sitting next to you.

“Did you not account for the traffic?” His dad asks him, eyes narrowing slightly.

I’m sure Hwa did but you see, sir, we lost time because we had to fuck in his car, you think, taking in the sight of all the food lining the table. Way too much food. More than anyone could eat. What happened when they didn’t finish it all? Did they just share it with the hired help?

“I did,” Hwa replies in that same stilted voice of his, “Not enough, I guess.”

“I guess so,” Mr. Park says in a voice that could freeze lava before turning his attention to you, “We were so happy when Seonghwa informed us that you would be joining us this weekend.”

I’m sure you were, you think but bite your tongue. “It was really kind of you to invite me.”

“Seonghwa hasn’t brought someone around he is clearly smitten with in a long time,” Mr. Park lingers on the word ‘smitten’, a silent message that he isn’t entirely convinced the two of you are actually into one another, “But we are always happy when he does.”

You bite down on your tongue again to stop yourself from making a snide remark about bribery. Hwa speaks, slipping back into the conversation easily, “Well, we are both looking forward to relaxing.”

The first time you met his parents, you barely knew Seonghwa. But after spending all this time around him, you notice the stiff formal tone he takes around his parents versus when he is away from them. It makes you sad…and angry as well. In fact, the anger is overwhelming and you fall silent, not trusting yourself not to say something overly rude. You want to ask Mr. Park what his fucking problem is, you want to ask why Mrs. Park words Seonghwa leaving the family as “being left with nothing” when in reality it just means not taking on a job he clearly has no interest in. You want to ask why they see Hwa as an object instead of their son.

Hwa glances at you as if sensing something has changed. In turn, he begins to take on the majority of the conversation. You know that you should be more engaged but it is difficult when you keep imagining tossing the mimosa in front of you into Mr. Park’s face.

At some point in a conversation about the weather, you lock eyes with Mr. Park. Something is shifting behind his gaze, something you cannot fully read. But you stare back at him. For a few seconds, it is as if time slows.

A week ago, you would have scurried to the bathroom just like last time. But now, you don’t break eye contact. Mr. Park stiffens ever so slightly.

Not breaking eye contact with him, you speak up, “Hwa?” The nickname hangs in the air, startling his mom into silence, “If the weather is this nice tomorrow, I would love to spend some time on the beach in the morning. It would be a shame for me to come all this way and not soak up some sun.”

Seonghwa glances at you, most likely wondering where the sudden request is coming from. “Of course.”

Mrs. Park falls for the bait quickly. “Oh, you like the beach? Did you know about the beach house before we invited you?” The implication is clear – she still believes you’re dating Seonghwa for his money, probably calculating how much she can offer you to go away.

“I didn’t,” You reply, “But that’s why I was so grateful for Mr. Park’s invitation.”

Mr. Park’s lips press together – the first sign of irritation at you.

Smiling inwardly, that is when you break eye contact.

“What was that about?” Seonghwa asks you thirty minutes later as he leads you to the guest house, stopping to turn around and look at you.

The pathway to the house is made of weathered stones. You guess they probably imported them just to make the atmosphere look older than it actually is.

Seonghwa is under the swaying branches of the palm trees, his hands in the pockets of his slacks. His posture is as regal as ever but there is something overly formal about it…as if just being around his parents has him unknowingly bringing his walls up. The palm trees dip in the breeze, casting shadow and light across Seonghwa’s face, making his expression difficult to read.

“What was what about?”

“I don’t know. It felt like you were about to start fighting with my father.”

“Maybe. I just felt pissed off sitting there.”

His eyes widen slightly. “Why?”

“It’s difficult to play nice with your parents when I know what they’ve put you through. I know it isn’t any of my business, Hwa, and I want to treat them with respect for your sake. But it is still difficult.”

At some point during the conversation, you moved closer to him, a moon orbiting a planet. Seonghwa’s brows furrow together and you don’t speak, letting him sort through whatever he is feeling before landing on what he wants to say.

“It bothers you?”

“Yeah, of course it bothers me,” You stop yourself from diving into a rant about his parents, reminding yourself not to overstep, “Because we’re…friends.”

“Right, friends,” Hwa repeats quietly, one hand reaching out to curl around your waist, pulling you unexpectedly against him.

Your body reacts before your mind catches up, pressing against him. Your bag drops to the ground as you wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him in for a kiss. His lips are hot against yours. There is something deeply personal about this kiss. Like the one by the river the night of the walk, it isn’t for show, and doesn’t feel like it is for practice.

The kiss ends when someone clears their throat, startling you out of the sensation of Seonghwa’s warm body against yours, the scent of his cologne, the weight of his hand on your waist. Tilting your face in the direction of the sound, you see Mr. Park standing there on the pathway. His expression is unreadable. Seonghwa’s body tightens up, his posture changing ever so slightly but his hold on you doesn’t drop.

“I was seeing if you needed anything in the guest house,” Mr. Park says, “But I see you haven’t gotten there yet.”

“Got swept up in how beautiful this garden is,” You say, “It’s very romantic.”

“Clearly.” The word is dry, falling at his feet and shattering like old clay. You have a feeling Mr. Park wasn’t one for romantic garden strolls and put the backyard together in a way to impress visitors and nothing more.

“Not like you to check up on us like that,” Seonghwa says casually, “You usually send someone.”

“Not often you bring someone here,” Mr. Park replies smoothly, “I wanted to make sure your girlfriend felt welcome.”

He’s full of shit, you think. It is evident he was coming around to snoop, probably expecting to find the two of you distant and silent together when he wasn’t around. Guess that backfired on you.

Seonghwa gracefully swoops up your bag off the ground, slinging it over his shoulder, steering you towards the guest house with his hand on your lower back. You glance over your shoulder as Hwa says goodbye. His dad didn’t get this rich without being clever, you think, turning back around, still feeling his eyes on you, and he isn’t gonna let Hwa slip through his fingers easily. But does Hwa know that?

The guest house is larger than your apartment. Your. Apartment. It has an incredibly big bedroom, a full fledged kitchen, a living room with a state of the art entertainment system, and another hot tub built into a cove, similar to the one near the main house.

“You said if I didn’t want to share a bed with you, you would sleep in the living room,” You say, staring wide-eyed around the entire space, “I was picturing a tiny bedroom with a cramped couch in the corner. Not a literal fucking house dropped on the property.”

“I said guest house,” Seonghwa replies, looking a little confused as he turns on the coffee machine (which looks like the most state of the art coffee machine ever created. Why did it have so many buttons?).

“Right but usually guest houses look like…tiny Barbie houses. Not actual houses.”

“Tiny Barbie houses,” Seonghwa repeats, one eyebrow arched slightly.

Exhaling slowly, you sit at the counter in the kitchen, staring at him before declaring, “I’m feeling overwhelmed.” The entire day is starting to catch up with you: sex in the car, the tense brunch, the kiss on the pathway, Mr. Park and his shark eyes.

“Why? Everything is going to be okay. If you want, we can just stay here for the rest of the day.”

“Won’t your parents care? Didn’t we come here to spend time with them?”

“They always start the trip off making such claims but by tonight, mom is going to be drunk with her beach friends and dad is going to be working in his office until past midnight. See? I told you. It isn’t going to be as bad as you thought.”

“Sure,” You mumble, “But if they don’t see us together and madly in love or whatever, how is that going to work in your favor?”

“And if I am around them 24/7 acting like a lovesick child, they won’t believe that either,” He points out, “Do you want some coffee?”

“Sure,” You reply before going, “I guess it was good luck your dad caught us kissing like that.”

Seonghwa makes a face. “Yeah besides the fact I wanted to die from embarrassment.”

“Do you really think he was coming by to see how we were doing?” You ask.

“You think he was lying?”

“Do you?”

The two of you stare at one another for a few seconds. You don’t want to come off as if you are accusing his dad of doing something sketchy. But it is evident to you that his parents won’t relinquish control very easily and Seonghwa’s relationship with you is a threat to their plans.

It is Hwa who breaks the silence first, going, “I don’t know. It is weird. But maybe he was just coming by to see how we were settling in.” He doesn’t sound convinced though and as much as you would like to push it, you don’t.

“I’m sure he was,” You say, hoping it sounds as if you believe him.

There is a beat of silence. Hwa is looking at you as if there is more he wants to say. But if there is, he doesn’t speak on it. For some reason, you think of a giant clock ticking down to…something. You aren’t exactly sure what – Hwa making a choice about his family? You telling Seonghwa all your feelings, including what you think of his parents?

The image passes as Seonghwa quietly makes the coffee, the sunlight spilling across the counter, the space between the two of you ever changing and shifting.

In bed that night, you find it difficult to sleep. Your head is going a mile a minute and sleeping in someplace that isn’t yours or Seonghwa’s feels strange. The small clock next to the bed says it is nearing one in the morning.

You didn’t think everything was going to hang over you like a dark cloud. It is hard to focus when the end of everything looms so close. The allure of all that money, once the force that propelled you into the current situation, doesn’t glimmer as enticingly as it used to. You try to imagine Seonghwa’s face as he holds the money out at you. You doubt it would be so easily given like it had been the first night of meeting his parents. There is too much in between the two of you now.

But what all that was, exactly, you aren’t sure. Seonghwa had said that he didn’t know if he just liked being around someone again but then told you he missed you. Was he as confused as you were? Did he find himself torn between friendship, companionship or something past the physical aspect with you? And no matter where he landed on that, your own feelings kept growing by the hour. What started as a fluttering crush in those early moments, even though you hadn’t noticed at the time, now morphed into something else completely.

Not to mention if Seonghwa didn’t convince his parents to drop the arranged marriage, and didn’t decide to leave the family dynasty, he would be married. Married. That would mean the possibility of anything between the two of you would never be realized. It would be severing something before it had the chance to start.

Shifting again in the bed, your mind heavy, you hear Seonghwa grumble next to you, “Can you stop moving? I can’t sleep.”

“Hwa, sorry. I thought you were asleep,” You reply guiltily.

He turns over to face you, laying on his side. You can just barely make out his face – the moonlight resting across one cheekbone like someone kissing a lover, his eyelashes dark smears against his skin. You turn onto your side as well, staring at him.

“I can’t sleep,” He admits, “Why can’t you?”

“Just overthinking.”

“What are you overthinking about?”

“Why can’t you sleep?” You counter.

Hwa chews on this for a moment before answering, “I was thinking about what you said before. About me taking photos and posting them on Instagram.”

This takes you by surprise. The last thing you thought bouncing around in Seonghwa’s brain was something about his Instagram. “Yeah?”

He shifts a little. “You think I could do something with that?”

“Hwa,” You say quietly, “No offense but you don’t have to do anything with it. You have enough money to make that your hobby on the side if you want.” You wonder if he is thinking about leaving his family and giving up the future CEO position to be dwelling on such things.

“Right. Yeah, I know that. I just mean…I mean outside of money. I guess. Maybe people would like my pictures if I did more with them. If I put a portfolio together. Maybe.” His words make you think of tiny eggshells littering the kitchen floor – one wrong move and you could step and crack all of them into thousands of pieces.

“I think that sounds like a good idea,” You reply carefully, unsure if you should ask if he is debating leaving his family.

But Hwa drops the subject, instead asking, “What were you thinking about?”

You sort through all the various things on your mind and decide to pick one to be honest. “I was thinking about you getting married.”

Seonghwa’s eyes widen a little as he sputters, “M-marriage?”

“Right. If this doesn’t work out. If your parents still want the arranged marriage to go through. I was thinking about if you decided to agree to it. Have you given that any thought?”

“No…to be honest, I haven’t thought about much past this weekend. I didn’t want to think about if this doesn’t work and they still press for the marriage. That would mean a hard choice would have to be made. I don’t know what I’d do.”

“You could marry someone you don’t care for? Just for your parents?” You dislike the pleading note in your voice and you wonder if Hwa notices it.

But he is too lost in thought. “If the alternative is leaving them…I mean, I’ve told you before. My entire life has been fighting against them. I don’t know anything but preparing to be CEO and taking on the company. If I left that, it would crush them.”

“But working there would crush you too,” You blurt out impatiently, “You don’t like it. And then you’d be married to someone you don’t love on top of that.”

“Does that bother you so much? The idea of me marrying her?”

Oh, what a question. How did you navigate answering this in a way that didn’t come across as though you are smitten with him?

“Yeah, it does. I mean, I know we haven’t known each other for long. But we’ve spent a lot of time together lately. I feel like I can say I know you well enough. When I think about you stuck in a situation where you are unhappy, I get upset.” There. That isn’t lying.

It is too dark to read Seonghwa’s eyes and know what he is thinking. His fingers curl against the sheet, and you fight the urge to touch his hand.

“I don’t know if I’m strong enough to leave my family. Hopefully, it won’t come to that. My parents are harsh but they still love me.” Seonghwa sounds more like he is trying to convince himself than you.

Even so, the disappointment in your chest is a heavy thing. You cannot help but feel as if Seonghwa is navigating a sinking boat towards a tsunami. You can’t shake the bad sensation that grows the more you spend time around his parents.

“I know. But it was just on my mind.”

“You worry about me a lot. I told you - you don’t have to worry about such things. Let me take care of them.”

You wish for nothing more at that moment than to ask for him to hold you. You know that you could fall asleep if he just held you. But you are afraid that is passing by from casual sex into something else…and so you just nod before faking a yawn.

“I guess I’ll try to sleep again.”

“Me too,” Hwa replies, “Tomorrow, we’ll go to the beach. If you want.”

“I do. I also wanna go in that ridiculous hot tub tomorrow. I mean, you really don’t understand what you have here, Hwa. If I was a more materialistic person, this would be slathered all over my Instagram so I could feel like one of those influencers who move the bed in their hotel room for a better photo.”

Hwa, who had been in the middle of rolling over onto his stomach to sleep, stops and peers at you curiously. “People really do that?”

“Yes,” You reply, marveling at how out of touch Hwa routinely is, “They do.”

In all your brooding about the beach weekend, you overlooked one crucial part: Seonghwa shirtless by the ocean.

But now, as you trudge through the sand towards the house, you look over your shoulder. The sun is dipping below the horizon, casting orange streaks through the sky. Seonghwa is collecting the rest of the things taken out this morning – a beach chair, a blanket, a book you didn’t open. He is still shirtless, his hair a mess of salt and wind. Yes, you had forgotten that being at the beach would mean an entire day of trying not to make it obvious you were staring. Even though you now officially fucked Seonghwa more this week than anyone else in your life, you still didn’t want him to know that you were that into him.

In the light of the morning, you ate breakfast with Seonghwa and his parents. It was a stilted affair. Seonghwa appeared a little withdrawn; you wondered if it had anything to do with your talk the night before in bed. Mrs. Park prattled on to fill in the silence, talking endlessly about her plans to redecorate the beach house. Mr. Park excused himself early for a business call. There hadn’t felt like a lot of time to throw yourself at Hwa to convince Mr. Park to drop the arranged marriage.

Afterwards, Seonghwa and you set up for a day at the beach. It was strange having an entire stretch of the beach to yourself but you settled in quickly – until Hwa pulled his shirt off and asked for you to apply sunscreen to his back. Your fingers along the muscles of his back did nothing to quell the dirty thoughts that were springing up like weeds. You tried to stomp them down but another fifty grew.

And now it is sunset. Being in the daylight for hours made you tired in the sort of languid way a cat is tired from doing literally nothing all day. It didn’t help that you convinced Hwa to make sandwiches for dinner versus “setting up a meal out back on the patio” which sounded much too formal for your liking. You are now basically ready for bed.

But the hot tub beckoned and you weren’t going to miss it just because you are feeling like a sleepy cat. Pushing the gate open that leads to the backyard, you wait for Hwa to catch up. He shakes his head, trying to get the sand out and makes a face.

“I’ll have to shower tonight. I can’t stand all this sand on me.”

“Okay, Anakin,” You quip, “Got everything?”

“Yeah. I assume you’re going to run right to the hot tub?”

“Correct,” You reply as Hwa puts the beach towels and chairs against the fence to use again tomorrow.

You catch a brief smile cross his face before he reaches out for you, one hand tugging on the beach shorts you have been wearing all day. Surprised, your eyes widen slightly as he kisses you. He tastes like the ocean, your hands against his abdomen, muscles taunt and warm under your fingers.

When he pulls away, he motions to the guest house. “Come on then.”

As you turn around to watch him go, mind spinning at how many times the two of you stumble into intimate gestures like that, a flicker out of the corner of your eye gets your attention. Tilting your face back slightly, you see a curtain moving in front of Mr. Park’s office.

Had he been watching? Is that why Seonghwa kissed you? You chew on your bottom lip for a moment, salt on your tongue, as you debate asking him. But if he truly kissed you just to make a show of it, you aren’t sure that you want to hear that right now.

As if sensing you sticking your head in the sand, your phone buzzes in your bag. You rummage around for a bit before fishing it out, seeing a text from Hongjoong.

“Did you tell him how you feel yet?”

“No!”

“It’s going to come out either way. Why not let it be settled on your terms?”

You don’t reply. You just don’t know what to say or how to begin to explain that the idea of rejection is so terrifying it leaves your chest aching. If you misread everything or if Hwa decides all of this is because he’s lonely, then what?

As usual, Hongjoong seems to know what you are thinking because he sends a follow up text.

“Find out so you can either get love or you get money!”

Stretching out your legs, you lean your head back and close your eyes. The hot tub feels better than you thought it would. The alcove that you currently are sitting in makes it feel as if you are in a secret spot from the rest of the world. You can see a hint of the trees moving in the soft breeze of the night, the moonlight poking through the branches, stars twinkling like faded paint spots against an old canvas.

Seonghwa is next to you, quiet in thought. You have kept up a steady stream of vapid chatter for the past twenty minutes but have finally run out of random things to talk about to fill the space. You aren’t sure where Seonghwa has gone mentally but with each passing moment since arriving at the beach house, he has steadily turned inward.

“Hwa,” You finally say with some resignation creeping into your voice, “I can’t keep babbling.”

“What?” He blinks, turning to face you.

The only source of light is from the hot tub. The lights illuminate his face and with a jolt you realize he looks a bit tired. You fight the urge to reach out for him, watching a droplet of water roll down his cheek and fall on his shoulder, your brain flashing an image of your fingers gripping them as he fucked you.

Tugging your brain to the present moment, you reply, “Where is your head right now? Because it isn’t here, in this expensive hot tub.”

“Sorry,” He replies bashfully, slicking back his hair with his hand, sending water across his head and down his neck, “I was just thinking.”

“About what?”

He averts his gaze for a second. “Just thinking about the outcome of this weekend, I guess. What happens after.”

“With your parents?”

He hesitates before going, “Yeah, with them.”

�� You reach for his hand under the water without thinking, a motion that comes naturally now, and squeeze it. “I’m sure you’re right in that if they think you love me, they won’t force you into anything.”

You’re lying and the guilt gives you a pang in your chest. But the idea of being brutally honest with Seonghwa now also makes you feel bad. You’ve spent the entire time with Seonghwa hiding your true feelings, not only about his parents, but about him too. But it isn’t good to rock the boat during this weekend. He needs to focus on what is going on and if I dump on him about his parents being shitty or my feelings for him, things will get too complicated, you argue with yourself even though the words sound like hollow excuses.

To your surprise, Seonghwa brings his other hand up from the water and cups your cheek. The touch takes you by surprise, especially when he grazes his thumb across your lips gently. There is something in his expression that is unreadable yet tender that sends your heart aflutter.

“Hwa…” You trail off, unsure what to say that won’t be something dangerous, something you’re not supposed to say.

He reaches out for your waist, moving you from the bench in the hot tub onto his lap. You are taken aback from the movement, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you against him as he kisses you.

There is something different about this kiss. It is a delicate, fragile thing, as if Seonghwa has taken whatever he is too afraid to say and put it through the kiss instead. You can feel him in every cell of your body like a jolt to the system, from your scalp to the tips of your toes. Your hands are against his chest and his heart races underneath your fingertips. Do you know? Can you tell? You think as the kiss deepens, your hands skirting up along his chest to his shoulders.

His hands press into your lower back, fingers splayed against your skin, your body against his. Between the heat of the kiss and from the water, Hwa’s skin is flushed, his chest rising and falling quickly against you. The kiss is shifting once more, from something akin to a teacup on a rattling shelf now to a man stumbling through the desert looking for water. Hwa seems desperate, almost afraid, as if you’re going to suddenly vanish.

The kiss takes the air out of your lungs, your body breaking out in goosebumps even with the heat. When it finally breaks, Hwa is looking at you, his lips a pretty pink, his black hair a mess of water, sand, and heat, curling against the nape of his neck.

“Come on,” He says gruffly, “Let’s go to bed.”

In the moonlight of the bedroom, Hwa peels your swimsuit off your body which is shivering from the temperature change. His hands glide over your vulnerable skin, his lips leaving small kisses along your neck. You are lightheaded with each touch, almost delirious with desire.

As you lay on your back on the bed, Hwa tosses his swim trunks off, not caring that your clothes are making a mess on the wood floors. He crawls over your body like a snake in the grass, stopping along the way to kiss your thighs, your hips and stomach. His tongue rolls across your nipples and by the time he finally makes his way along your neck to your lips, the desperation for him has hit a new high. Your hands are tangled in his hair, your tongue against his as he positions himself at the entrance of your wet hole.

In all the times you have slept with Hwa this week, he has never been on top of you before. You are breathless at the intimacy of it, how different it feels to be this way with someone you are so taken with versus the others in the past. As he slowly pushes into your entrance, you can watch the expressions on his face change – the hit of pleasure that Hwa experiences as he feels you wrapped around his cock.

Your legs curl around his waist, pushing against him so that he slides fully inside your pussy. He lets out a soft grunt while doing so, his forehead resting against yours for a few moments before he begins to move his hips slightly.

As Hwa begins to fuck you at a slow and steady pace, your bodies are entwined, pushed together, skin to skin. His heartbeat is against yours, both racing towards the finish line together. His hair is damp in the palm of your hands, his tongue in your mouth, his arms sliding underneath your upper back to hold onto you and make sure you are fully against him.

In between each kiss, small noises escape from you as Seonghwa bites down gently on your bottom lip, giving it a sharp tug with his teeth. You like the grunts he makes with each thrust, you like knowing that you can make him feel so good. In this moment, there is nothing else besides the two of you. The worries about what comes after has faded so far into the distance that it might as well be a dying star billion light years away.

As Hwa increases his pace, he makes sure to enter you fully, his hips touching yours before pulling out completely. You take him easily, your warmth wrapped around his cock and at one particularly hard thrust, his eyes flutter closed, your name tumbling from his mouth, sounding different from all the other times he’s uttered it.

Even so, Seonghwa is taking his time. Unlike all the other encounters with him, the sense of urgency is gone, replaced with something else – emotions lurking under the surface that are too scary to speak about. Curled against him, your lips dragging across his cheek, your hips rising to meet each pump of his hips, the two of you spill over into each other. Each movement and touch express something neither of you can bring to life with words.

His eyes open mid thrust, meeting your gaze. As he fucks you, Hwa doesn’t break eye contact, studying your face with each thrust. His cock is buried deep inside you, his breathing heavy, and you know he is going to cum soon.

You pull him in for another kiss as his thrusts quicken, his pace slightly erratic, his groans muffled against your lips. You move along with him, your hips meeting every jerk of his hips. His forehead presses against yours as he shudders before burying his face in your neck while climaxing, spilling into your pussy, unloading inside you. His groan is muffled by your skin, pumping in you slowly as he finishes.

His lips find yours again greedily, kissing you as he comes down from his orgasm. Your body is still alight with desire, having not finished yet, and you can tell Hwa knows it by the small smile against your skin as he pulls out of you and begins to kiss downwards.

By the time he reaches the middle of your thighs, you are aching for him, your hands finding purchase in his hair once more. His hands slide underneath your ass, giving himself leverage to bring his face in between your thighs towards your cunt. Unbothered by the fact he just finished in you, Hwa’s tongue probes your folds, licking up along your slit before finding your swollen nub.

His tongue flicks across your clit, his face pressed against your cunt as he works you with his mouth. He groans as he eats you out as if he cannot get enough of you, your hands tugging on his hair as you grind your pussy against his face, already close to finishing. Seonghwa doesn’t budge as your hips buck, sucking on your clit with an intensity that makes your gasps turn into high pitched whimpers. Then his tongue is back to rolling across your nub, his hands gripping your ass as your hips jerk. Sometimes his tongue slips from your clit and his nose brushes against it instead, making your moans louder.

“Hwa,” You groan out, sounding unlike yourself, “I’m gonna cum –” Your breathing is ragged, your entire body tingling as your orgasm approaches.

Seonghwa doesn’t stop, slurping and sucking on your clit loudly, your pussy a mess of his cum and spit mingling with your wetness. Your climax begins, back arching, pussy grinding against his face as the pleasure overtakes you. He doesn’t stop working your clit until it becomes too sensitive and you flinch. That’s when he releases his hold on your ass, allowing you to sink back onto the bed.

Breathless, you try to prop yourself up to look at him but can’t; your limbs feel heavy and warm. The next kiss tastes like the two of you mingled together. When the kiss ends, he is looking at you quietly, still breathing hard. There is something shifting behind his expression, between the two of you, something being changed and altered in such a way that for a few seconds, you are terrified at the idea of this weekend ending and never having him again.

The thought makes you hold Hwa tighter, nestling against him, closing your eyes to listen to his heart rate slowly come back to normal in the darkness of night.

You have only been sitting at the table during breakfast for around twenty minutes but it feels easily like three hours. Over a wide spread of food, Mrs. Park asks pointed questions about your parents, your schooling, whatever else she can pluck out of thin air to make it clear that you are, in every manner, beneath her and therefore unfit to date her son.

Speaking of her son, Seonghwa seems off ever since he woke up this morning. He isn’t openly sullen but has withdrawn ever further into himself, leaving you scrambling to make sure that the dating act is kept up to the standards needed. It has you feeling as if you are a one woman show – watch her answer rude questions about her life, marvel at how she tosses flirty glances towards Hwa, be amazed at the way she ignores Mr. Park’s ever cold gaze!

Inside, you are a tornado. The intimacy of last night coupled with the anxiety of the breakfast is making you all over the place. Seonghwa held and kissed you so gently last night, and in that time together you felt almost as if the two of you were one – as completely cheesy as that sounded even to yourself – leaving you overwhelmed by how strong your emotions towards him now are. Something altered itself last night, something just subtle enough to change the dynamic with Hwa, the ground unsteady beneath your feet. It leaves you with one question – now what?

You remember Mrs. Park is speaking and try to tune back in as she says, “How do your parents feel about you dating Seonghwa?”

Before you can come up with a lie, Hwa seems to stir to life, replying, “Enough with the questions. She isn’t interviewing to be my girlfriend. She already is my girlfriend. You’ve been grilling her this entire meal and it’s wearisome.”

Startled, Mrs. Park’s eyes widen slightly and she glances over at her husband who looks unperturbed. Hwa must never speak like that to her, you realize, and she’s going to blame me for it.

Sure enough, her eyes narrow in your direction as she delicately clears her throat and shifts the topic to the weather.

To your surprise, Hwa moves his hand underneath the table and holds onto yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. The hand squeezing has become part of the routine between the two of you – where once it came from nerves, now it was to reassure one another. Just another sign of how much things have changed.

“I thought you would be here for dinner tonight,” Mrs. Park says later that day, as evening is settling in.

“I haven’t gone to town yet,” Seonghwa replies stiffly.

Mrs. Park casts a glance at you, her expression unsettled. You don’t look away, aware that any sort of scuttling about or staring at your feet would be a sign of submission. Mr. Park is standing near the window, his back to everyone, but you know he is listening to every word.

“Surely you can go bar hopping after dinner.”

“I’m not going bar hopping.” Seonghwa’s tone has turned testy, “I want to go to town tonight. We had breakfast together this morning. You normally don’t care what I do on these trips.”

The unspoken sentence hangs in the air – you only care because I have my “girlfriend” here.

A tense silence fills the room and you swallow hard.

It is the last day of the trip. Tomorrow morning, you leave. After that awkward and tense breakfast with his parents in the morning, you are craving alone time with Seonghwa…mostly to finally tell him how you feel. Instead of feeling closer to him today after the incredibly intimate sex from last night, he only seemed more distant and locked up. It is starting to make you truly panic and believe that once the trip comes to an end, so will your time with Seonghwa.

It is this panic that is leading the charge. You want to tell Seonghwa that your feelings for him aren’t set in friendship, they aren’t even set in liking him a lot but something much deeper. You want him to be your boyfriend. You want to be together. It would take uttering just a few sentences to confess this to him tonight. You are worried that Hwa seems to be distracted but if you don’t say it tonight, when will you? After the sex last night, it is impossible to deny or put off how you feel.

You can see the power struggle unfold in front of your face. Seonghwa is challenging his parents and they clearly are not used to it. Mrs. Park flicks her gaze over to you, once again blaming it on you, before throwing her hands in the air.

“Fine, Seonghwa, if you want to waste the night getting drunk, don’t let me stop you. Your father and I will just enjoy a quiet night inside.”

“Sounds good,” Hwa says breezily, reaching for your hand and pulling you out of the kitchen, “See you all later.”

“Seonghwa,” Mr. Park’s voice cracks through the silence and Hwa stops, looking at his dad who continues, “Remember tomorrow morning you have a meeting at the Rosewood. So don’t be hungover.”

�� Seonghwa’s lips press together in a thin line for a moment. “I won’t be.” He gives a small tug on your hand, indicating it is time to go.

You glance over your shoulder at his parents, shoving the unease down that is blooming in your chest. Seonghwa’s energy is all wrong, like a snake uncoiling and attacking the first thing it sees. You aren’t sure why…and some part of you is nervous to find out.

The ocean glimmers in the setting sun as Seonghwa walks along the beach towards the tourist section of the town. He is quiet although his hold on your hand is firm and steady. In his other hand, he holds his shoes and his feet leave solid footprints in the wet sand. The waves lap at your ankles and the sun is almost fully below the horizon, making the ocean look like a mysterious lover beckoning for you to dive into its depths.

You aren’t sure how to tell Hwa what you’re feeling. The most you’ve done in regards to this is the time you once sent your crush a “do you like me…yes/no?” note when you were nine years old. But that pales in comparison to the intensity of your feelings for Seonghwa.

Glancing at him out of the corner of your eye, you admire the way the ocean breeze ruffles his hair, the slope of his nose, the way his lips look nice and soft, the curve of his neck –

“What is it?” Hwa asks suddenly, turning his face to look at you.

“What?” You balk.

“You were looking at me.”

Flailing around for something to say, you go, “I was just wondering if you were okay. You just seem a little off.”

Hwa shrugs, looking forward again. The lights of the oceanside bars are popping into view, like flickering fireflies.

“Being around my parents this weekend is driving me crazy, that’s all. Every little thing they do or so is just…annoying.” His words sound unfinished as if there is more lurking underneath them but nothing else is forthcoming.

“Your dad said something about a meeting at the Rosewood tomorrow morning…” You trail off, the question hanging in the air.

The Rosewood was a beautiful hotel in the heart of the city with an even more gorgeous restaurant on the top floor. You only knew about it through reputation or when a celebrity was seen there. Someone like you would never step foot in a place like that.

“Yeah, my parents are dragging me into some business meeting there. Same old shit.” He sounds bitter. “We’ll have to leave earlier than I wanted to so I can drop you off and get there in time. I won’t hear the end of it if I’m late.”

“Yeah, I understand,” You reply, coming ever closer to the first bar which Seonghwa is steering you towards, “Uh, do you think it worked?”

“What worked?”

“Uhm…us pretending to be dating and in love.”

For some reason, his expression grows hard. “I don’t know. What else could we have done? This was our plan from the start.”

His words mixed with his tone take you by surprise. There is an undercurrent of misery in every sentence Hwa utters and you don’t know what to do with it. He yanks the door of the bar open and you trail after him. It is a typical looking bar, maybe with more seashell décor since it is next to the ocean. You hesitate in the entrance, frowning for a brief second as your eyes land on the drink menu, reading the titles of the cocktails: Sunset sangria, Malibu breeze, Blue Hawaii…

“You okay?” Seonghwa asks, looking over his shoulder.

“Yeah, sorry.” You give a small shake of your head, “Got this weird feeling of like déjà vu.” You shrug, trailing after him as he finds a spot at the bar.

The place isn’t too crowded although one group clustered in the corner is very loud. The bartender asks for your drinks but you are surprised yet again when Seonghwa orders a shot.

“Didn’t take you as the type,” You remark.

“Usually am not. But since everyone thinks I’m going to be drinking anyway…” He trails off as the bartender pours the shot, “You want one?”

“No thank you. I’ll just have a beer, I guess.” You don’t actually feel like drinking or getting drunk but it is clear Seonghwa is barreling towards that.

He motions for another shot and the bartender refills. He slams it down, looks at you and says, “Those two were warm ups.”

Something is definitely wrong, you think as he asks for another one. The chances of confessing your feelings are growing slimmer by the second as the panic grows larger.

When he hits the third shot down, you ask, “What was that one?”

“A freebie,” He replies dryly.

By the time a stumbling Seonghwa leaves the bar, it is a couple hours later and he is thoroughly drunk. Wobbling in the sand, you try to steer him back to the house but he gently shrugs you off.

“Wanna go down to the shore,” He slurs – at least that is what you think he says.

“Hwa, maybe we should just go back to the guest house.”

But he gives a firm shake of his head. “If I have to see my parents right now, I’ll fucking lose it.” That is spoken a lot clearer and gives no room for an argument.

You follow him away from the bar, down the shoreline a little bit to a spot where very few people are around. Hwa plops down in the sand, not caring that he is getting his clothes covered in it, or even noticing when the water washes up around his legs. You chew on your bottom lip before gingerly sitting down next to him, gasping a little.

“It’s cold,” You say as the water washes over your legs.

Hwa tilts his face back as if he is letting the sun warm his skin – but the moon is out and the sky is dark. “I ruined tonight, I know.”

“What?”

“Drinking. Should’ve just…stayed in with you. But staying around you is just…confusing.” His head rolls forward and he blows his hair out of his face.

“Confusing?”

“I’m supposed to pay you tomorrow. For this weekend.”

You pause for a moment before replying, “I know.”

“That’s what everything comes down to. Money. My parents paying off everyone. Now I’m doing it too. Maybe I’m no better than them.”

“Whoa, Hwa, don’t talk like that,” You say, alarmed, “That isn’t true.”

“How is it not?” He fires back, “You’re always talking about leaving the family and doing whatever I want but I don’t know what I want to do because I’m – I’m not even a person, I’m just…constructed by them for the stupid fucking company.” He is seething now, bunching his fists in the sand. “What would I do away from them?”

You tentatively reach for his shoulder but your hand hovers just above him, afraid of touching as if it might startle him.

“‘Money is a terrible master but an excellent servant.’ Do you know who said that?”

“Uhm. Lisa from Blackpink?”

Hwa ignores you or maybe he didn’t hear you at all because he goes on, “I have all the money in the world yet it somehow corners and poisons me every fucking second of my life.”

“Alright, we’re going home,” You announce, standing up and brushing sand off your knees, tugging on his arm, “And we’re going to bed.”

“That isn’t home,” He mumbles but obeys, getting to his feet unsteadily, looking at you through a haze of booze, “Would you cry for me if left tomorrow? If I went overseas? If we never spoke again?”

“Hwa,” You say, startled as he brings one arm around your waist and pulls you against him.

“Tell me I’m not just about money for you. Tell me I matter more than money. That when I fuck you, it means something. That I mean something.” He murmurs desperately, his face close to yours, his body warm, the scent of booze clinging to his clothes, his pupils wide, his gaze lingering on your lips.

Your chest is tight, heart hammering against your ribs. I don’t want to tell him like this. Not when he’s drunk, emotional and not thinking clearly. I want it to mean something too.

But you don’t have to say anything because at that moment Seonghwa lurches away from you, turns to the side and promptly begins to throw up on the beach.

Distantly, you wonder if anything good happens on a beach – maybe in another universe somewhere, someone is confessing their love to a significant other instead of watching the person they care about vomit in the sand.

It is nine in the morning when everything goes to hell.

Dark clouds form along the beach, signaling a massive storm rolling in to match your mood and the mood of the guest house.

Seonghwa, who is extremely hungover and working on a tight schedule to get you back to the city in time for his meeting, is already running late. You are quietly packing your things, a knot in your stomach.

After Hwa threw up on the beach, you got him home, cleaned him up and watched as he promptly passed out, leaving you alone with more emotions than you knew what to do with. It was as if the universe was determined to make sure not to carve out one quiet moment for you to speak to Hwa and confess.

In the morning light, Seonghwa mumbled an apology for almost puking on you and made no mention to his lamenting of his wealth or his desperate question of if you would cry for him. You don’t bring it up either, unsure if he remembers it or just doesn’t want to discuss it.

But the energy has been popped like a cork from his hangover and his mood is foul. It lingers in the room like a poison cloud and it all comes to a terrible clash when he tosses money onto the kitchen counter shortly before leaving.

“What is this?” You ask warily.

“It’s the money for the weekend.” Seonghwa’s face is blank, his voice empty of any emotion. “This is why we were hanging out, after all. The entire week hinged on the deal we made.”

The money is unceremoniously in a tote bag that he must have dug up somewhere in the main house when he left this morning for thirty minutes, claiming he needed to get coffee in town because the stuff here wasn’t strong enough. Now, you knew exactly what he had been really doing – somehow making a cash withdrawal that most banks wouldn’t allow but he could do because of his connections and wealth.

“It’s yours now. We can consider the entire thing finished.”

You tear your eyes away from the money and look at Seonghwa. His expression is heavily guarded, posture stiff. It’s his old face, you realize with a jolt, the one he had in the first couple of days together. I hadn’t noticed it because I didn’t know him then. But I know him now.

It doesn’t take a genius to know that Seonghwa is cutting everything off before he gets hurt. You want to be understanding but you are exhausted. The entire weekend has been draining, coupled with your own romantic feelings for him, to dealing with him getting drunk all the way to this moment where he has decided to make the choice for you.

“If you don’t want it from me, I’m sure my parents will give you some,” He adds, like rubbing salt in the wound.

It is this small remark that pops the bubble that has been growing in your chest. “You don’t have to be so cruel about it.”

“I’m not being cruel.”

“I’m taking it as cruel. That’s how I’m reading it.”

His lips press together in a thin line before replying, “I have a terrible headache. I can’t deal with the bullshit of you declining my money and me offering it and we do this whole song and dance and you leave with it. So, let’s just skip it and you take it.”

You had no intention of taking the money. You know that now. But Seonghwa’s crass words, his hostile demeanor and the money thrown on the counter in an ugly tote bag suddenly makes you furious.

“Do you think it’s okay to be talking to me like this? What, did being hungover flick on your Asshole Switch or something?”

Seonghwa crosses his arms. “I’m not being an asshole. We agreed on this at the start.”

“Right, we did before we spent the entire week fucking each other,” You snap and he flinches, “You could talk to me with more respect. You’re acting like I’ve been buzzing for your money the entire week. You could have made an effort to start a conversation with me about money versus throwing it at me. And the remark about your parents – you think I’d take their money?”

“You’d take someone’s money!” He raises his voice slightly, throwing his hands in the air before storming away into the bedroom.

“You don’t need to deflect your own inner turmoil and issues onto me!” You counter, following him, “I understand what you went through is shitty and difficult but just to blanket assume I am the same –”

“And why wouldn’t you be?” He whirls on you, his voice cracking, “What makes you different? This entire thing started on the basis of money so why wouldn’t it end that way? If you don’t want to take mine, you’ll just take my father’s. That’s how it goes. That is how it always goes.”

“So, what, you just thought to be a jerk to me so things can end on your terms? You pay me and never see me again after today? Is that it?”

He snatches his bag off the floor, pushing past you to head towards the living room. “This is how it was always going to go.”

You follow him, nipping at his heels, refusing to back down.

“Oh, cut the bullshit, Hwa. Why don’t we face what is really at the root of this?” You cannot help it – you are growing angrier by the second, mingled with his rejection and the fear that he will never know how much he means to you. Everything you have held in this entire week is now about to explode out of you. “Your parents do not see you as a person. They do not care about you. If they cared about you like they should, they wouldn’t do the things they do to you. Deep down, you know that! Your mom feeds you bullshit like ‘you’d be left with nothing’ which isn’t even remotely true and your dad forces the company down your throat and you are burning yourself out trying to fit the tiny box of what it means to be a loveable son to them! They withhold their love from you just to get whatever they want and it isn’t fair!”

Seonghwa looks startled and then promptly furious, getting very close to you as he speaks, “Don’t presume to know my entire family dynamic just because we’ve been hanging out for a week. You are overstepping.”

“And you overstepped with the tote bag of money so I guess we are back to square one,” You fire back hotly, “Hwa, don’t you see? You’re going to spend your entire life doing things you don’t want to do, running a company you don’t want and marrying someone you don’t love. They will do anything to manipulate you! Deep down, you know I’m right!”

Seonghwa shakes his head. “I’m not listening to this.”

You take a step away from him, snatching the tote bag off the counter and upending it. The stacks of cash clatter to the floor as you fling the tote bag back onto the counter. Hwa watches as you do so, going very still.

“I don’t want your money,” You say disgusted.

“Fine. Take my dad’s then. He doesn’t like you and will be keen to pay you off,” He slings his bag over his shoulder, going towards the door. “There’s an extra driver this morning. They can drive you back to the city. I can’t be late to this fucking meeting at the Rosewood and it’s better if we don’t drive together.”

“Right, wouldn’t want you to miss out doing something that makes you miserable!” You call after him as he slams the door to the guest house shut, leaving you alone without a backwards glance.

The silence is deafening. You slump into the nearest chair, turning the argument over slowly in your head, the money at your feet. In the distance, you hear thunder. Your chest physically hurts and your heart is beating so fast you feel a little sick.

What the fuck just happened? You think, wondering what to do from here. Surely, Seonghwa will never speak to you again. Not only is he determined to cut you off because he is too afraid of being hurt again but you just went on a tirade about how bad his parents are. But I meant every word and I can’t take it back. To take it back would be lying to him and all anyone ever does is lie to him. But what the hell do you do now?

You aren’t sure how long you sit there, listening to the storm inch closer by the minute. Eventually, you stir from your brooding to motivate yourself to finish packing and get out of here before the driver leaves and you have to pay for an expensive Uber.

Leaving the guest house, feeling numb, you keep telling yourself to focus on Seonghwa once you get out of here. If you start thinking about it too much, you would start crying and never stop and the idea of doing that in front of some random person driving you home is mortifying. Crossing through the garden, you are almost at the side gate when a voice saying your name gets your attention.

Looking over your shoulder, you see Mr. Park on the back patio, the sliding door open behind him. “I was wondering if I could talk to you privately in my office.”

Sure, whatever, I don’t give a fuck anymore, you think, nodding your assent towards him before trudging over. What is there to fear from him now? It is all finished…Seonghwa had made that clear.

The house is very quiet with no sign of Mrs. Park or even the hired help. You follow Mr. Park upstairs towards his office. It is stuffed to the brim with expensive objects like everything else he seems to touch. You don’t blame Seonghwa for going minimalist in his own space. Surrounded by all these things is suffocating.

Each bookshelf is lined with titles that are most likely purchased just for show since you cannot imagine Mr. Park has enough time to read. Along one wall runs a host of old looking filing cabinets that are all locked. His desk is made of heavy oak and makes the entire room feel stuffy and oppressive.

You sit down in a plush leather chair on the opposite side of the desk, the leather creaking in the silence. Mr. Park sits down as well and for a few moments, he doesn’t speak. You just stare back at him. If he is in the mood to play mind games…well, you aren’t.

When he realizes that you aren’t going to speak first, he relents and goes, “My son left in quite a huff this morning.”

You just nod.

“Everything alright between the two of you?”

“Can we skip to whatever you brought me up here for?” You ask wearily.

There is a flash of irritation in his eyes quickly replaced by the same nonchalant expression as before. “Very well then. I looked into you after we met for the first time. I was thinking that while you and my son seemed attracted to one another, something felt off.

I know you don’t have very much money and that you dropped out of school because you could no longer afford it. You weren’t a good enough student to get any scholarships. I know that you’ve jumped around jobs ever since until settling down at that store of yours. Your best friend, a man named Hongjoong, left the city after mental health issues and seemed to be quite an influence on you, bar hopping, partying, trying to help him with his fledgling music career. You mostly keep to yourself now with no clear plan in mind.”

“Is this supposed to scare me? Sixteen-year-old girls with a crush and a good Google search could find out more about someone these days,” You deadpan.

Mr. Park smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He leans forward, clasping his hands together. “I was struck by the difference between you and Seonghwa this time around. Seonghwa especially. He seems quite taken with you. Of course, you understand that he can’t be with you.”

“You don’t get to make that choice for him.”

“Seonghwa has always been a bit of a dreamer. It’s been difficult to stamp that out of him. He needs extra guidance towards the ultimate goal of working for the sake of the family dynasty. That comes first. Not what he wants. Not who he wants to marry. I take this very seriously.”

You don’t reply.

He clears his throat a little and continues. “You understand that you’re not a good match for him. You have no family standing. You bring nothing to the company. He’s already becoming a bit unruly by being with you.”

At this, you laugh. “You think that was being unruly? Him…what, sticking up for me during breakfast and doing what he wants to do?”

“He came home very drunk last night and was clearly hungover this morning. That is out of character for him and I blame it on you. You’re a bad influence.”

“Is that why you were looming around the guest house and staring at us through the window? Just taking note of ‘oh, my son is happy, I need to ruin it’?”

This time, he ignores you, opening a drawer and pulling out a checkbook. “I’m going to be very generous with you. I’ll let you give me a price. Whatever the amount in exchange for not speaking to Seonghwa again. No contact from this moment onward.” His pen hovers over the check as he stares at you.

I am so fucking sick of talking about money and thinking about money and dealing with money, you think, feeling roughly a thousand years old in that moment. I’m sick of hearing about this dynasty and I’m sick of seeing Seonghwa sad and I’m terrified he’s going to lose himself completely to this hell.

“No.” is all that leaves your mouth.

“Excuse me?”

“No. I don’t want your money.”

“Don’t be rash. Think this through. I said that you could list whatever amount –”

“I heard you. I’m saying no. You were right, Seonghwa was upset this morning. He might never talk to me again because he’s so warped over what you have put him through that he’s too afraid to open up to someone else once more. And fine, if he doesn’t talk to me again, I’ll be heartbroken but at least I’ll know it’s not because I am yet another person in his life to take money from his dad. You see, I don’t want your money because I am in love with your son,” The words hang in the air for a few seconds as you try to wrap your head around the fact you have just said it aloud before continuing, “I am somehow deeply in love with your son even though I just met him. It’s absurd, actually, the way I fell for him so quickly. But he’s smart and he’s funny and he’s an amazing photographer and he’s thoughtful and introspective and a lot of wonderful things that you don’t see the worth in because he isn’t a son to you, he’s a pawn you just move around because you think life is a chessboard and people are just toys. But Seonghwa isn’t that to me.”

You stand up, ready to go, when Mr. Park speaks, “It’s touching you care so deeply for my son. Unfortunately, it doesn’t matter. Your little disagreement this morning worked in our favour. Seonghwa is currently with his mother at the Rosewood being told that you have come to me and asked for money. Afterwards, he will be presented with a contract agreeing to marry the woman we have chosen for him.”

You stare at him, cold ice rolling down your spine, a loud buzzing in your head.

He continues mercilessly, “Whatever Seonghwa schemed with you, because I feel fairly confident that when I saw you a week or so earlier that this relationship was not nearly as deep as we were told it was, it ended up helping us. Originally, we were going to have a sit down conversation with him at the Rosewood, laying out the facts bare of what would happen if he didn’t agree to the marriage. But whatever happened this morning, Seonghwa is now distraught and not thinking clearly as he heads into the meeting. One little push is all we need to get him to sign. I know my son.”

“So you’re lying to him and telling him I asked you for money,” You say with numb lips, “And he’s going to be so upset, he’ll sign and agree to the marriage.”

“That’s right.”

You fumble for your phone, immediately trying to call Seonghwa. But a robotic line says the call cannot go through. You try it again desperately. Same result. You switch to texting, sending a desperate message that just says you hadn’t taken any money from his dad in all caps. It says it cannot be delivered.

“It won’t work,” Mr. Park finally speaks, sounding pleased with himself, “I have some connections at the phone company and Seonghwa’s phone won’t be taking any calls or texts from anyone until the contract is signed. My son was aware that this is what he needed to do even when he fought it. But then you came, like an arrow in the dark, striking his chest and making him believe in things he never gave a passing thought to before.”

You want to throw the nearest object at his head. You fight the urge to punch him in the face. One part of you is such vicious fury that it might choke you and the other part of you is pure unfiltered panic. Thunder goes off, closer now, promising a storm to end storms.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You seethe, your jaw clenched.

Mr. Park looks unbothered. “I’ve given up everything for the company. As did my father. Seonghwa will understand that, in time. He could always keep you on the side after the marriage is finished. I am not against that. But this is how it has to be for the dynasty.”

“I would never take a cent from you,” Your voice is low, as chilly as a glacier.

“I know,” Mr. Park replies simply, “But Seonghwa does not.”

With those words, you realize that Mr. Park has been stalling you from trying to reach Seonghwa. This entire conversation has been a waste of time. You spare one second to shoot him the finger before storming out of the office, flying down the stairs so quickly that you almost trip. Catching yourself at the last second, you burst from the beach house. A driver is perched against a car, smoking a cigarette, clearly have been told to wait for you. Seonghwa has done that much, at least. He looks relieved at finally seeing you, crushing it under his shoe with an apologetic look on his face.

“I need to get to the Rosewood as quickly as possible,” You say, tossing your bag in the car and ushering the driver to the door, “Hurry. Quickly. Please,” You amend before climbing in the back.

In the back of the car, you keep trying to get in touch with Seonghwa even though you know it is in vain. You try calling his Instagram account but he doesn’t answer. You spam his Instagram messages. Nothing. His phone is either dead, taken away, or he simply isn’t looking at it.

The panic and rage that swirl in your chest are two beasts fighting. To think of Seonghwa being so absolutely manipulated by his parents – for them to lie in such a way and turn off his phone – to have him sign anything that would give up his freedom…the worst part of it all is that if the two of you hadn’t fought this morning, he might not be so susceptible.

Is that true? A tiny voice asks. This entire weekend, Seonghwa’s fear of you opting for money had been weighing on him until it exploded this morning. Maybe that part of him would always be a target to hit. The fact his parents know that and used it to their advantage…

The rain begins on the outskirts of the city. It comes down in thick droplets, splattering against the roof of the car so heavily it almost sounds like hail. The thunder shakes you to your fingertips. The rain sweeps in like a frenzied beast and traffic starts to form. You want to pull your hair out.

You think of Seonghwa, believing that after the fight, you sought his dad out and asked for money. You think of the stack of money left at the guest house, of Mr. Parks knowing your feelings were strong enough that he had to stall you, and the way his mother must be convincing him in a cloying voice that this is how things need to be.

You are worried about crying right here in the back of the car. You know if that if you start, you’ll never stop. The car has stopped again. You glance at the time and lean forward.

“I am not trying to be a bother but what is the hold up?”

He points to the GPS on his phone screen, showing the road ahead in a deep red. “Some accident. Traffic is backed up badly.”

You have got to be kidding me, you think, wondering why the universe is determined to make a mockery of you at every turn.

“How close are we to the Rosewood? Within walking distance?” You study the map on the GPS very carefully.

“Uh…”

“Doesn’t matter. Sorry, I gotta go.”

The driver makes a spluttering noise as you open the car door and exit. The cars are at a standstill, some people honking at you weaving through the traffic while heading towards the sidewalk. The asphalt is hot, the rain almost sizzling as it strikes, and it feels like you have walked into a swamp. Soaked immediately from the torrential downpour, you take off as fast as you can, yelling “sorry!” and “excuse me!” every half second as you try not to collide with anyone slowly meandering down the sidewalk clutching their umbrellas. With each strike of your shoes against the pavement, you think about Seonghwa. Even when your chest might burst and your lungs might pop like grapes, you keep going.

Eventually, you can see the sign for the Rosewood through the haze of rain. The doorman tries to stop you – you ignore him, flying through the lobby and into an elevator before anyone can do a single thing about it.

Pressing the button for the restaurant at the top floor, you slump against the wall, gasping for air.

In the reflection of the elevator doors, you realize that you look like a wet rat that just nearly survived a flood. Not your best look…especially for a high-end establishment like this. But when the doors open, the thoughts of your appearance fade as you take off again.

In fact, you almost make it to the restaurant before someone, probably security, grabs your upper arm. You ignore them, lurching forward into the dining room.

“Seonghwa!” You yell, “Seonghwa!”

You get a glimpse of him – a millisecond that lasts a lifetime. He is at one of the tables, paperwork in front of him, his mother talking avidly and a beautiful woman at the table as well. You recognize her from the rooftop photo. Seonghwa is slumped, a pen in between those slender fingers of his, dark circles under his eyes.

You shake the person holding you off, wrenching your arm almost painfully out of the grip, and bolt through the dining room. People mumble in horror – at you running, at your appearance, at your clothes leaving puddles all over the fancy carpet – but you don’t care. He hasn’t signed, is all you can think with relief, feeling as if you are running in quicksand towards him.

Seonghwa’s eyes are wide and he is in the motion of standing up when you finally reach him. You grab his shoulders, pulling him towards you desperately. Mrs. Park is yelling at security to remove you as Seonghwa looks upwards and shakes his head firmly at them, telling them to leave you alone.

“Hwa, I didn’t go to your dad. Will you look at me? I didn’t go to your dad,” You plead, giving him a small shake, his gaze falling on your face, “I didn’t go to your dad. They’re lying to you.”

“She’s lying,” Mrs. Park spats.

Seonghwa doesn’t even glance over at her. He is staring only at you for a heavy moment before he speaks, “Come on, not here.”

His hand moves downward, grasping yours. The first trickle of relief hits your chest. Would he hold my hand if he felt like I betrayed him? Mrs. Park is sputtering – about your appearance, the fact security isn’t hauling you away, that you are causing a scene. But Seonghwa brushes past security, his hand steady against yours, leading you out of the dining room. Everyone is openly gawking. You know how you look, with your clothes like heavy wet rags, your bag slumped against your shoulder. Your heart is still racing, out of breath from all that running and motivated by sheer panic.

Hwa takes you to a small nook, nestled between the kitchen and the foyer. He waves someone away when they ask if he needs assistance in getting you out of the building, turning his back to the restaurant and offering his body as a shield to get prying eyes off you.

He takes in the sight of your general appearance before quietly asking, “What’s going on?”

It spills out of you so quickly that you aren’t sure Seonghwa can even keep up with your words. “I didn’t go to your dad. I didn’t ask him for any money. I didn’t do anything of the sort. I was going to leave and your dad asked to talk to me. He offered me money, said I could list any amount I wanted. And I told him no. I told him…” You choke on your words for a moment, knowing that there is no turning back now. You can’t run all this way, make a scene at the restaurant, tell Seonghwa their version of events is a lie and then proceed to lie yourself.

“What did you tell him?” He prompts quietly, his eyes scanning your face, his shoulders set with a clear tension he is trying not to let slip into his tone.

You take a deep breath, unable to look at him, instead opting to speak directly to the middle of his chest, and begin to talk, “I told him that I wouldn’t take the money because I’m in love with you. I told him that I know it sounds silly to be in love with you already but that it just happened that way. I don’t care if you never spoke to me again but I wouldn’t ever want you thinking that I took your money or your dad’s money. Because I love you. I should have told you earlier but I’ve never been in love before and I didn’t know what to do. But I love everything about you like the way you wander around at night and take photos, how kind you are, and thoughtful too. And I even love you when you make out of touch comments about things because you can’t help it, you’re too rich to even know better but I know it isn’t ever malicious and it isn’t intentional and you’re still kind and I love you for it. I love you even though you never know any of my pop culture references and I love you even though the only movie you’ve ever quoted to me is goddamn Clueless. And I love you even if you don’t love me and it’s okay if you don’t want to be with me but I needed you to know that your parents are not good people and they don’t deserve you. And you could hate me for saying those things but it’s the truth,” You hold up your hand, “Wait, don’t answer yet. There’s something else you need to know. About why I ran here and made a scene.”

You fumble for your phone. Your hands are shaking, you realize, but you illustrate to Seonghwa how you try to call and he gets no calls. You show how you text him and he doesn’t get those either. You tell him to check Instagram and he sees the panicked missed calls and messages from you. You explain quietly what his dad said. Hwa is silent for a long while, staring down at his phone until the screen goes black from being idle.

His hair has fallen in front of his eyes and you cannot see his face. You don’t speak. You know that you have just thrown a lot at him all at once and can only assume he is overwhelmed.

But on the other hand, you just confessed your love to this man and he’s gone idle like he is a video game character about to get timed out in a MMO. Antsy and wringing your hands, you finally break the silence.

“Uhm…Hwa…”

He shifts a little and then raises his head to look up from his phone. He slips his phone in his pocket and brings his hands to your shoulders, resting them there, ignoring the squelch of wet fabric.

“I have to do something. Will you give me some time?”

Thrown, you reply, “Uh, sure…?”

“Do you have money for a taxi back to your place? It sounds like you left my driver in traffic and I don’t have another one nearby.” He rummages in his other pocket and pulls out some cash, shoving it in the palm of your hand and curling your fingers around it before you can protest. He lingers there for a moment. “Just give me a few days. Will you do that for me?”

What else am I supposed to do? You think, slightly dazed, nodding silently.

Seonghwa hesitates for a second and then tugs you against him, crushing you in a hug. He doesn’t seem to care that your clothes are soaking wet and will ruin his expensive outfit. He has never held you this tightly before. It would be funny to picture Seonghwa walking back into the restaurant all wet from hugging you if you weren’t on the verge of crying. Your face is against his chest and he kisses the top of your head before breaking away. As he walks away, he stops to talk to security, who is still glowering nearby. You cannot hear what he is saying but his tone brokers no argument.

And then Hwa is gone, back inside the restaurant.

When the security guard comes over to escort you out, it is evident he is disgruntled that he cannot arrest you or lecture you for twenty minutes.

But even if he did either of those things, it wouldn’t matter. The adrenaline is starting to wear off and that numb feeling is sweeping back in.

He didn’t say he loved me back, you think over and over, to the beating of your heart, I don’t have a lot of experience in telling someone you love them but the ultimate hope is they say it back, right?

So, now what?

“This is horrible,” You whine, muffled into your pillow.

On the screen of your phone, Hongjoong looks up from painting his nails. “Are we going to run through the story again? Can we go back to the part where his dad mentioned me?”

You scowl, looking up. “You know it’s creepy that he knew why you left the city, right? Yet you think it’s giving you main character energy or something.”

Hongjoong looks pleased. “Come on, you’re living out something usually seen in movies or dramas and I got a mention. Lemme hear it again.”

Sighing, you recall when Mr. Park mentioned Hongjoong during his thinly veiled threats about snooping into your life. You do so on autopilot, aware that Hongjoong is only doing this to try to distract you from the fact that you haven’t heard from Seonghwa in four days.

You keep replaying that morning in your head – the disagreement with Seonghwa, the entire conversation with Mr. Park, running through the rain and showing up at the restaurant to tell Hwa you love him while also destroying his entire fragile hope that his parents weren’t shitty.

“I have to do something. Will you give me some time?” Seonghwa had said. But did that something have to take so long? What was he doing? Was he okay? You couldn’t bring yourself to text him and embarrass yourself further. It is difficult enough to think about how you confessed your feelings for him and he didn’t feel the same way…because if he had, he would have told you then and there. Right?

The past four days have been agony. You trudged to work, wandered back home, stayed up too late unable to sleep, spent too long scrolling on your phone. You felt embarrassed to basically be living to wait to see if Seonghwa contacted you.

You finish the story before slumping back down and staring sullenly at Hongjoong who finally sighs and stops blowing on his nails to dry them quicker.

“He’s going to contact you.”

“We don’t know that.”

“Yes, we do. He said he just needed some time.”

“How much time? I’m two seconds away from turning into Bella Swan when she just stares out the window for months and months cuz Edward fucked off.” You lament, shoving your face back in the pillow.

“From everything you’ve told me about this guy, he doesn’t seem like the type to needlessly play with your feelings. If he’s gone quiet, it’s because he’s sorting something out. His parents took shit way too far. He kept hoping they weren’t as bad as you knew they were. That has to be difficult to deal with.” Hongjoong’s tone is gentle but his meaning is clear: this isn’t just about you, Seonghwa is going through something as well.

Chagrined, you prop yourself up to look at Hongjoong who gazes at you steadily through the camera before idly turning his attention back to his nails.

“Now, let’s talk about if I should pop by the city just to egg Mr. Park’s car or something,” He continues conversationally.

You have just gotten out of the shower after a very long and extremely boring shift at work when your phone buzzes with a text. Your roommate is gone at her own job which means you can dart from the bathroom completely naked into your room, snatching up your phone.

You stare at the message pop up, Seonghwa’s name clear and bright on the screen. You blink a few times to make sure you haven’t imagined it out of sheer desperation. It has been five days since you told him you loved him.

But his name remains. Quickly, you open up the message.

“I was wondering if you can come by my place in an hour or so. I can send a car. I’m sorry I can’t come there myself but I promise I’ll explain everything when you arrive.”

You take a deep breath, telling yourself not to reply right away so you don’t look desperate.

So you wait exactly two minutes before replying with an okay.

It feels strange to be cutting through the lobby towards the elevators to go to Seonghwa’s penthouse without him by your side. After giving your name to the receptionist, she declared you were on the visitor list and gave you some temporary key to access Seonghwa’s penthouse. Your heart is racing a mile a minute. You have no idea what you are walking into and that makes your anxiety even worse. After five days of waiting, you are finally going to see Seonghwa – but it isn’t just about seeing him that is so stressful. It is the fact that you are seeing him and now he knows the extent of your feelings.

The elevator doors glide open and you gingerly step out into the foyer at the same time his parents come into view. Having not expected to see them, you freeze immediately. Mrs. Park’s eyes are swollen and red from crying. Mr. Park looks as impassive as ever.

“I hope you’re pleased with yourself, you money grubbing harlot,” Mrs. Park growls out in your direction, dabbing her eyes furiously with a tissue.

You are torn between asking what the hell she means and laughing so you do neither, only staring at her with wide eyes as she pushes past you into the elevator. Mr. Park follows. Another man exits the living room, paying no attention to you at all, holding a briefcase and an iPad, entering the elevator as well.

You look over your shoulder as the doors close. The last thing you see is Mr. Park giving you a small nod of his head. There is something in the gesture that makes your stomach flip – some sort of acceptance on his part, something that feels akin to admitting he lost.

Spurned on by that, you turn around and hurriedly walk into Seonghwa’s living room, stopping immediately at the sight of him by the large window overlooking the city.

The sun is starting to set, Hwa’s back is to you as he looks outward. He is wearing a white button up shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows with black dress slacks on. There is nothing different about this outfit; you have seen him in something similar many times.

But after not seeing him for five days, a longing hits you square in the chest. It is only your embarrassment stopping you from running over to him.

“Hwa,” You say quietly.

He stirs, looking over his shoulder. When his eyes land on you, he smiles gently. But you are startled by how exhausted he looks, as if he hasn’t sleep since the night the two of you slept together entwined after having sex that changed everything.

When Hwa doesn’t speak, you shuffle awkwardly and go, “Your mom called me a money grubbing harlot on the way out.”

He rubs his face with both hands, shaking his head a little before replying, “I’m sorry.”

“Why? You didn’t call me that.”

The space between the two of you feels like a gaping wound. The only thing you want is for him to reach for you or give you some indication that everything is alright. Hwa lingers by the window for a moment, casting one look at the horizon before moving towards the couch.

“Even so, my parents have treated you like shit ever since I entered your life. You’ve taken it on without question or complaint.” He sits down, tilting his face upwards to look at you, “Will you sit next to me?”

You are too nervous to even make a joke and instead opt to just silently sit down. You have been so distracted by seeing Seonghwa again that it is only now you notice all the paperwork spread out across the coffee table. Hwa follows your eyes and clears his throat a little, leaning forward and taking one of the pages off it and handing it to you.

You stare at it, your brain unable to piece together what the hell you are looking at.

Seonghwa leans forward a little, his fingers lightly resting against your wrist. The touch is enough to make you feel unhinged. He inhales sharply and goes, “I finished the paperwork today.”

“Uh…for what?”

“For giving up any and all claims to the family inheritance and the company.”

For a few seconds, the words don’t click. You just stare at the legal mumbo jumbo in front of your eyes before tearing your gaze away from the page and to Seonghwa’s face. He traces small circles against your wrist nervously, waiting for you to reply.

But if he is expecting some sort of deep and meaningful answer, you hope he isn’t disappointed when you deliver a confused, “What? You mean…you just separated from them?”

“You were right,” He says simply, “About them. About me as well. I kept denying it and hoping until you showed me that they were blocking my phone from any communication just to get me to sign a fucking contract giving up my own life for their sake. There is no way to create a story to comfort myself when confronted with that. They lied to me, they lied about you, and they attempted to isolate me to get what they wanted,” He hesitates, “It would have worked. If you hadn’t gotten to me in time.”

“But I did get to you in time,” You think with a rush of exhilaration.

Hwa left the family. It is more than you ever dared to hope, something that seemed so far out of the realm of possibility that it hadn’t even entered your mind that he could have been spending the last few days working on all the legal recourse to get out of the family.

“You did,” He replies, his head slightly bowed to look at your hands holding the paper, “I’m sorry I believed my mother when she said you went to my father for money. The fight from the morning was still in my mind and I had been running myself in circles since I met you about what was going on between us. I analyzed every thought about you, unsure if my feelings were true or I was just lonely. By the time we got to the weekend, I felt suffocated by my parents and I was overwhelmed by my feelings. And that night…with the hot tub and us sleeping together afterwards…it was so different to everything I’ve had before. It made me panic. I handled the entire thing poorly. And I almost led myself into some arranged marriage just because my parents knew exactly how to manipulate me.”

You took a deep breath and steel yourself. “And how do you feel about me then? You know how I feel about you.”

Seonghwa looks up then, an expression you can’t decipher on his face. “After my last relationship ended, I decided I was done letting anyone in. It wasn’t worth the hassle or the disappointment of realizing what they were truly like. My faith was shattered completely and I turned it into armor. When I approached you in the convenience store, I saw you as part of this convoluted plan to get my parents to love me for myself and not what I could give them. The last thing on my mind was that we would be anything other than business associates. It didn’t hit me until the coffee shop that things might start growing complicated.”

“The coffee shop?”

“When you started asking questions about me. I understood why you were asking them but it had been a long time since someone asked me something as simple as what my favourite colour is. I realized how lonely I was.”

“Black isn’t a colour, by the way,” You say quickly, unable to help yourself, “I was being polite then but it’s not a colour.”

Hwa laughs quietly and he brings his hand to your cheek, cupping it gently. The touch makes your heart race. His thumb grazes your skin as he continues, “There was something about you right away, something authentic that wiggled through the armor and I caught myself thinking of you when we weren’t together. And I didn’t understand why until you were drying my hair after you dyed it.”

Your heart thuds. You want to tell him that is when you also realized that everything was changing between the two of you and that the minor touches were sending you into early heart failure but your tongue is no longer cooperating with your brain.

“That’s when I realized that yeah, I was jealous I had to wear the t-shirt of some guy who slept with you, and yeah, I was falling for you. And when we had sex later that night, I just assumed it was because the lines were getting blurry with all the fake dating and you didn’t see me like that. Sometimes, I would wonder and allow myself to believe that you did but my brain quickly began to convince me that it wasn’t about me, it was about my money. It nipped at my heels no matter how fast I ran. It chased me down, bite into my jugular and filled me with doubt. The more I fell for you, the more the doubt and fear grew…” He pauses for a second, clearing his throat a little.

“The night of the hot tub, being with you like that, I knew I loved you. It was impossible to deny any longer. And I felt like a fool for falling in love. I told myself I never learned my lesson. I would always be a fool. I was miserable and I hated myself for being miserable. Anyone else would be thrilled to fall in love and instead I couldn’t stop telling myself that you were going to leave Monday as soon as I gave you the money. I drank that night just to try to stop thinking for five seconds and then in the morning, I lashed out at you in a last ditch effort to protect myself. When you showed up at the restaurant…” Seonghwa stops talking, cut off for a moment, and you realize he is blinking quickly because his eyes are welling with tears.

His confession of love is leaving you spinning. Your heart hammers in your chest, overloaded with joy that he feels the same way. You want to comfort him but he keeps speaking before you can.

“No one has done that for me before. When I saw you running to me, soaked to the bone, your bag bouncing against your hip, my heart stopped. And you used such a gentle tone with me as you explained why your phone couldn’t call me when I had treated you poorly just an hour or so prior. It made me realize that I couldn’t keep denying what I knew, had always known, deep down and that is you were right. My parents have love that is conditional and it would never stop. I could sign that contract and they would want something else from me the next week. To have you and to be happy, I would have to leave them.

Before I met you, I thought my hobby was going on yachts and laying in the sun. Now, I know it’s photography and wandering the streets at night to take photos. I used to think the only avenue I had was running a company I couldn’t give a fuck about and now I have no idea what I’m gonna do next but I know I want to figure it out with you next to me. If you want that too, I mean.” He brings his other hand upwards, now cupping your face in between the palms. His eyes are filled with tears threatening to topple at any second. Your chest is very tight as if you might cry yourself.

“Hwa…”

“I love you so much and I loved you so quickly that it terrifies me. Will you have me even though I’m so scared?”

“I’ve never felt the way I do about you before.” Your words are small tiny things and Hwa has to get very close to even hear them, “I’m scared too. We can be scared together.”

The tears spill over, wetting his eyelashes, rolling down his cheeks as Hwa nods quietly. You want to brush them away but he kisses you then, tears on your lips, against your tongue, as you lean into him. You have missed him so much it physically hurts and the idea that has haunted you for days – that you would never kiss him again – makes you need him even more in every way possible.

In Seonghwa’s bed, his fingers travel over your clothes, stripping them off you carefully, stopping to kiss every inch of your skin. You are trembling underneath him, the reality of the fact this sexual interaction will have no flimsy excuse to cover it; there is no more pretending that you don’t love him and no more hiding behind the “fake dating” concept. There is only Seonghwa, his lips grazing yours, your clothes landing in a heap on the floor next to his and his tongue in your mouth as you grind against him, skin to skin. He shudders as his cock presses against your wet folds but does not enter you. Instead, his lips move from yours to along your neck, his hands groping your tits as he does so.

“Tell me again,” He whispers in a hoarse voice, words muffled by your skin.

Your hands trail up along his hips, remembering the time in the elevator when you first noticed how slender his waist was. A lifetime ago, surely. It is hard to remember how life felt before Seonghwa bumbled into it with his awkward proposal of fake dating.

“I love you,” You murmur and Hwa’s breath catches as your legs curl around his waist, urging him silently to fuck you.

When his lips meet yours again, it is a hungry kiss, filled with promise of nights to come and of starting a relationship with him. You can feel the longing in it, all the stress and time spent worrying, and the tender love for you as well. Hwa’s tongue is against yours and you can taste him, want more of him, all of him. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, the kiss turning sloppy as his cock presses against your cunt. He drops one hand downward to position himself at your entrance, the kiss breaking for a moment.

“Again,” He says, his voice taking on a slightly pleading note.

“I love you, Hwa,” You tell him once more, your lips brushing against his with each word.

He enters you, slipping all the way inside in one swift motion, filling you up with his length. Your back arches, pressing against Seonghwa who groans, his head bowed, not moving his hips once he is all the way inside you.

“Your little tight hole drives me insane,” He says gruffly, “I want to feel you cum around my cock every night. Open your eyes and look at me, doll, I want to see that look in your eyes.”

Your eyes, which closed when he entered you, open now to look at him. His eyes scan your face, drinking in the sight of you.

“I love you,” Hwa whispers, in a voice so quiet it sounds as if it is just meant for you and the stars and not to the city encircling the two of you at all.

You tilt your face up to kiss him as he begins to thrust inside your pussy. It is different to have him now and know there is no chance of losing him. You give into him completely and he does the same. Each jerk of his hips drives moans and pleas out of you, and each time Hwa enters you completely, he groans out that he loves you. You move together in unison, like two puzzle pieces clicking together. Your hands tangle in his hair, his tongue in your mouth, just like the night of the hot tub but without the fear looming in the distance.

The kiss breaks and Hwa changes positions, bringing himself up and folding your legs a little back so that he can fuck you deeper. The angle hits your sweet spot, your fingers gripping the sheets as Seonghwa picks up his pace. He grips your thighs, his nails still painted black, smears against your skin, driving his cock in you like a piston. You are soaking wet, taking him easily, and Hwa watches the way your pussy greedily clenches down around his cock with each thrust.

“You think that you got enough practice in?” He asks, breathing ragged, chest rising and falling quickly, his toned arms holding your legs back firmly, “Now you’re ready to be my girlfriend officially and take my dick like this every day.”

Your head rolls back in pleasure, unable to even answer. The only thing you can focus on is how good it feels and how much you love it when Hwa talks like this as he fucks you.

“Show me how much you love me by cumming around my cock.” His voice is taunt, humming along your skin and up your spine. “You’ll prove it to me, won’t you? Be a good girl and show me.”

You know that your orgasm is close. Hwa is fucking you into the mattress, not slowing for a moment, determined to pound you into climax. Your thighs shake, your pussy tightening around his girth.

“That’s a good girl,” He coaxes, “Tell me you love me as you cum.”

Hwa gives a hard and deep thrust of his hips, driving his cock against your sweet spot one final time. Your orgasm begins and you groan out his name, eyes closing and head rolling back, knuckles turning white as you clutch the sheets.

“H-Hwa,” You whimper out, “I love you!”

Hwa releases his hold on your legs, curling around your body as he gives one final harried thrust before cumming along with you. His balls empty out in your cunt as he groans out that he loves you too, burying his face in your neck as the two of you climax together. You rock your hips against his, your pussy clenched around his length, milking his cock for every drop of cum as he unloads in you.

For a minute or so, neither of you move, trying to catch your breath. Then, Seonghwa raises his face slightly, finding your lips, gently kissing you.

“I could get used to this,” He hums softly against your skin.

You could as well.

A storm rushes into the city in the middle of the night. You jolt awake from a loud clap of thunder, eyes opening groggily, wondering what time it is.

To your surprise, Seonghwa is already awake. He is sitting up, a sheet draped across his lower half, his bare back facing you. He is looking out the window across the city which is engulfed in sweeping rain and wind.

Propping yourself up, you tentatively reach out for him. Fingers brushing against his back, skin warm against your fingertips. He’s mine now, you think with happiness.

Hwa stirs at your touch, looking over his shoulder. “Did the storm wake you?” His voice is soft.

You nod and then realize he might not be able to see you in the dark. “Yes,” You reply, your voice slightly worn out from all the noise earlier.

Propping yourself up, you wrap your arms around his neck, your chest pressing against his back, your chin resting on his shoulder. Seonghwa softens, relaxing into your body, turning to kiss the top of your head before looking back out at the city.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask quietly.

“I was thinking about what everyone who is still awake in the city is doing right now. I was wondering what my parents did after they left here.”

“Do you worry about them at all?”

“I don’t know how I feel.”

“You don’t have to know or have everything figured out in regards to them, Hwa. It’ll take time to sort through everything. Might even take years.”

Seonghwa seems to chew on this silently before settling on, “I know I made the right choice.”

“So, you can let that be your north star as you navigate everything.”

He falls silent. For awhile, the two of you stay like that, watching the way the storm washes out the city. You can feel Hwa’s steady heartbeat underneath your fingers, and you listen to his quiet breathing. Your heart is full, overflowing with the sort of emotion you have only previously read about.

The silent glow of the city brings a half luminescence to Hwa’s face. You trace the curve of his jaw and the length of his nose to the way his lips are slightly parted, drinking in the lights. Sensing your stare, he tilts his face to look at you, leaning forward a little to brush his lips against yours.

The two of you stay like that until the storm quiets an hour later, musing about the future, wrapped up in the city and the rain, comfortable in your love.

the end.

#ateez smut #ateez fics #seonghwa smut #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa fics #kpop fic #arrow in the dark #100 notes

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