DEAR READER
Not today Justin
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JVL
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if i look back, i am lost
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sheepfilms
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@seung-mong
oh my god! who is this chick??
im literally ur intenet gf lilith aka lily, an 04 baby and a massive bisexual with a raging boner??
here's some more abt me:) (this is a wip)
and some of my rules! (pls read before u send in requests:')
here's my masterlist for:
skz
nct (tba)
svt (tba)
wanna get tagged?
buy me some kofi!
hope u stay a while ʕ•́ᴥ•̀ʔっ
Can’t Lose You
Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader
Summary: After a foolish act of bravery nearly gets you killed, you and Steve have the argument of a lifetime. Unfortunately, (or maybe fortunately) your boyfriend happens to be ridiculously hot when he’s angry, and the line between fury and passion has a tendency to stretch very thin when it comes to the two of you.
Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI; Smut!, Unprotected p in v (wrap it before you tap it, friends), Angry sex, My hand slipped and Steve is dominant as fuck, Dirty talk, Please let me know if I forgot anything!!
Author's Note: We all knew this day would come, and now it’s finally here. In honor of Steve Harrington’s Canonically Huge Dick, I present to you my first full-on smut drabble. Special thanks to @flowersforbucky for proofreading! And as usual, please let me know what you think! If you guys like this, there’s a pretty big chance you can expect more like it in the future!!
-
Steve Harrington, your boyfriend and the absolute love of your life, drives you fucking crazy.
He’s overprotective, bossy, always ready with a sarcastic comment, and so fucking cocky sometimes that you want to wring his gorgeous neck.
Perhaps luckily for both of you, you drive him crazy right back.
You’ve spent the last half hour or so shouting at each other. In his car. In his front yard. Through the halls of his empty house. And now in his bedroom, where he’s running a frustrated hand through his hair and pacing back and forth and still just as absolutely furious with you as he was since the fight began.
“What’s the point of a plan if you’re never going to stick to it?! What the fuck did you think was going to-“
“I didn’t think! I didn’t need to think! If I hadn’t gone in there, those fucking monsters would have-“
“They would have ripped you apart if I hadn’t gotten there in time!”
“But they didn’t.”
“But they would have!”
You swear you mean to leave. You mean to turn on your heel and storm out, to shake off the anger and stomp home and wait for the adrenaline and fury and…everything else to wear off on its own.
But Steve catches your wrist, and spins you back toward him, and his face is flushed and his jaw is clenched and his eyes are on fire and…well, he must be having a similar thought process about your current state, because suddenly his mouth is crushed to yours and his hands are moving up to tangle in your hair with a ferocity that steals the breath from your lungs. He backs you into the door of his bedroom, slamming you against it and caging you in with his body so hard that the impact might hurt if it weren’t for his hand catching the back of your head to shield you from the blow.
“You drive me insane.” He growls, low, as his furious hands tug your shirt over your head like the garment is the most offensive thing he’s ever seen. “Never fucking listen. Always talking back.”
“Take this off.” You tug at his own shirt, breathless and growing increasingly more desperate with each layer of clothing remaining between you.
“And bossy.” But he pulls his shirt over his head, ducking back down to bite at your neck hard enough to make your knees buckle.
“Oh, I’m the bossy one now-“ he cuts you off with another bite, hands sliding over your waist as he presses you tighter against the door until there doesn’t seem to be a millimeter of space left between you.
“Do you have any idea what could have happened if I hadn’t been there in time?” His words are dangerously quiet against your jaw, and you think he might be shaking. You pull back, catching his lips with your own as you begin to fumble with his belt. He responds faster than the crack of a whip, snatching your wrists with one hand and pinning them to the wall above your head without once breaking the kiss.
“Never sticking to the fucking plan.” He continues between demanding kisses, the fingers of his free hand working expertly at the button of your jeans. “Never. Fucking. Listen.”
“We didn’t have time to- oh God.” Your defense is cut off with a gasp as his hand dives beneath your waistband, and you hear his breath catch as his skilled fingers find just how desperate you are for him.
“Fuck-“ for just a moment, his composure breaks. You whimper, the sound leaving you before you can remember that you’re trying to sass him, and he crushes his lips to yours again as he begins to work you like a well-loved instrument. Despite his words, and the gravel still lacing his tone, his movements aren’t rough. He holds you still against the wall, completely in control, but his kiss is loving and his fingers are deft as they move in the exact way he knows will make you fall apart faster than you can think.
“Almost lost you, because you can’t stop throwing yourself into danger.” He murmurs, crooking his finger and adding a second in a single smooth movement that makes your toes curl.
“We didn’t have…t-time, fuck. Steve.”
“Still arguing with me.” He almost grumbles, but his voice is so raw and his fingers are speeding up inside of you and his thumb is working in small circles and you’re having trouble remembering to be pissy with him. That’s probably his fucking intention, but you definitely can’t complain right now. “You almost die, and two seconds later you’re arguing with me.” He pulls back, just far enough to let his nose bump against yours, eyes locked on your face like he’s trying to memorize every expression that crosses it.
He’s losing his grip on his anger, too. You can see the fury in his eyes replace itself with something like reverence as they look into yours, as he crooks his fingers again and swallows your gasp of helpless pleasure like it’s a drug. “Fuck, you’re beautiful. Hold onto me.”
He releases your wrists, and pulls his fingers back so quickly that you nearly sob from the sudden loss. Your arms move to lock around his broad shoulders before you can think, and his hands come down to the backs of your thighs so he can lift you against the wall and kiss you so hard and rough that you forget how to breathe right. His hips rock against yours, and when your nails dig into the warm skin of his back he groans low enough for the sound to vibrate through you.
“Want you.” You murmur, and he moans again as he pulls you back from the door and lowers you onto the bed, still so careful despite his anger.
Once again, your hands move down to tug at his belt, desperate for more of him, and once again, he bats them away.
“Not yet.” He murmurs into the hollow of your throat, trailing searing kisses over your collarbone as he crawls lower. Lower. You whine, arching your back in frustration as your fingers curl against his shoulders in a stubborn attempt to pull him back to you.
“Steve, just-“
He interrupts you with a sharp bite to your hip, hands already working to pull you out of your jeans.
“Do you really think,” his voice is even lower now, dark eyes still burning as he turns them up to you, “that after the shit you pulled tonight, you get to tell me how to fuck you?”
You do your best to glare, even as his words send molten heat through your already burning bloodstream. You can’t find it in yourself to answer, and his satisfied hum only makes you burn hotter. Cocky bastard.
“That’s what I thought.” He murmurs, thumbs hooking in the waistband of your underwear and pulling them down as you squirm with a desperation that makes frustration ignite in your core all over again.
He lifts your knee over his shoulder, ducking back down to drag his blunt teeth along the inside of your thigh, and you try so, so hard not to give in. To stay mad at him. To find the words to tell him that he was being overprotective and you had everything under control and just because you’re about to lose your mind with lust and need doesn’t mean you’re done yelling at him.
And then his mouth is on you, hot and skilled and overwhelming, and anything you might have said is cut off by a near-sob of pleasure.
“That’s it.” He murmurs, the words vibrating through you as your fingers tangle helplessly in his hair. “Lemme hear you.”
The way Steve Harrington can take you apart with his mouth should be studied by science. The way you see stars as he writes sonnets into your body with his tongue, the way his fingers join the machinations of his mouth to make you cry out so loudly you’re worried you might wake half the fucking neighborhood. Your thighs threaten to close around his head, and his hand moves up to push your knee back down onto the bed, moaning into you like he’s getting off on this just as much as you are and it’s so fucking hot you might die.
Your high approaches like a fucking freight train, barreling towards you almost alarmingly fast. It’s overwhelming to the point of near-pain, but Steve doesn’t stop. Not for a second. His hand leaves your thigh, sliding up your stomach and your ribs until you’re almost mindlessly clawing at the muscled bicep before you, desperate to anchor yourself to anything solid.
His hand catches your fingers instead, threading them through his own, and when you look down, his eyes are dark and starved and possessive and locked right the fuck onto yours, and you fall over the edge with a scream of his name.
When you come to, still struggling to catch your breath, it’s to your boyfriend climbing up your body like a panther poising to attack, lips brushing over any exposed skin he can reach like he’s trying to inhale you into his very lungs.
“So good. You did so good for me…” he murmurs as he reaches the hollow of your throat, and you can only raise a hand to comb your fingers weakly through his hair. Your grip tightens, however, when you feel his own fingers return to where they were aiding his tongue moments ago, making you gasp and squirm beneath him, still oversensitive.
“S-Steve.” You start, only to be cut off by another sharp gasp as he slips two digits inside of you without so much as a warning.
“Shoulda tied you to the fuckin’ headboard.” He growls, breath warm against the shell of your ear. The words make you arch beneath him, and it takes a lot more focus than you would like to admit for you to smirk.
“Still mad, huh?”
He catches the lobe of your ear between his teeth, and speeds up the movement of his hand until you’re writhing.
And once again, his fingers move and curl inside of you, relentlessly massaging your sweet spot until you’re shaking beneath him.
He kisses you, slow and hungry and deep, and whispers soft praise against your lips until he finally builds you slowly back up to the precipice. Works you open until you’re moaning and gasping shamelessly into his mouth.
Just as you’re about to combust, clinging to him like a lifeline, he pulls back.
“No no no-“ you gasp, mindlessly, and almost reach down between you before his hand flies up to catch yours, pressing it back against the sheets by your head.
“Shhh.” He coos, nuzzling into your cheek with a cocky smirk. “Not so quick to talk back now, are ya?”
“Asshole.” You wish you meant it. He laughs, kissing your cheek, and finally reaches down to tug his jeans over his hips.
He’s big. Almost too big. Even with all of the preparation, all of the time he took to work you open for him, the stretch makes you whimper as he pushes in, slow and careful and shaking with restraint.
“You can take it, baby.” He half-whispers, more than a little breathless himself, and squeezes your hand a little tighter as he tucks his face into the crook of your neck. “I’ve got you. My girl. So fucking tight. Made for me, yeah? You were fucking made for me…”
He kisses you again, groaning as he sinks all the way into you, and begins to move in a slow, steady rhythm. Like he’s savoring every thrust. Like he’s taking his sweet time making sure each movement hits the deepest, warmest parts of you.
“S-Steve.” His name leaves your lips in a desperate gasp, and the fingers of the hand not holding your own tighten behind your knee as he pulls it up a little higher around his hip.
“What is it, baby?” He asks, teasing and soft as you writhe beneath him. His lips glide over the line of your jaw, and his next thrust is just a little rougher. A little more intense. It sends a shot of pleasure through you, but it’s not enough. Not nearly. You whimper, the fingers of your free hand digging deep into his bicep as you try to match his movements with your own. Try to create just a little bit more friction.
He tsks at you, holding you still as he presses his lips to yours.
“Mm, always such a firecracker.” He purrs, another slow roll of his hips making you keen. “But you get so sweet like this, don’t you?”
“Steve.” You nearly sob his name now, and he still doesn’t pick up speed, but he does slide his tongue between your lips with a rock of his hips that has your eyes rolling into the back of your head.
“Shh,” he coos again , and you can see the restraint in his shoulders. See how difficult it is to keep his slow rhythm in the way sweat beads on his brow. “Be good, and I’ll give you what you want.”
“Y-you…ngh.” The insult dies on your tongue.
“I what?” He whispers, breath warm against your cheek. His hand tightens in yours, still teasing, and your toes curl as your head falls back against the pillows with frustration. More more more. You need more so badly you can’t think straight. You know he does too. You’re going to kill him. “You know what I wanna hear, sweetheart.”
He wants you to beg. You’re definitely gonna kill him.
“This is…you’re…” words are not your friend, it seems.
He thrusts a little harder, just once, and you whine. “C’mon, be sweet for me.”
“Please.” You nearly sob, and he grins as his free hand comes up to smooth over your hair. “Please, please please.”
“Good girl.” He purrs, and finally starts to speed up. Finally angles himself to hit that spot inside of you that has you moaning into his shoulder. “Was that so hard?”
“Steve.”
And even with the way his fingers tangle in your hair, tilting your head back so he can kiss you so roughly you wonder if your lips might bruise, and the way he snaps his hips so hard against yours you wonder if the headboard is going to dent the wall, his fingers are still tangled in yours by your head. His eyes are still locked on your own, and there’s so much love in his gaze that you think you might drown in it.
You’re drowning in him, and you never want to come up for air.
“I love you.” He whispers, hoarse and hungry and raw. “I love you so much. Doing so good for me. Fuck.” He kisses you again, and you can do nothing but sob out more pleas and broken forms of his name.
You feel like you’re on fire. It’s so good it hurts. You can’t think. You can’t speak. You wonder for a moment if he’s somehow broken your brain, mind almost too empty to even register the sweet words he’s whispering against your skin.
You try to tell him so. Try to express the intensity of what’s building inside of you. The words fail, and you just choke on a whimper of “S’ t-too…”
“I’ve got you.” He kisses your cheek. Your nose. Your lips. “I’ve got you. Let go for me. Wanna feel it.”
And you do. You’re too far gone to even scream anymore, biting down so hard on his shoulder that you’re positive it’s going to leave a bruise and clinging to him with everything you’ve got as your vision goes completely white for the second time tonight.
“So good... Fuck, fuck baby.” His breath is warm against your throat as you slowly fall back to earth. He follows you over the edge, pulling back to press his lips to yours in a surprisingly gentle kiss as he comes apart with a guttural moan of your name.
You’re boneless. Exhausted. Damp with sweat and still trying to remember how to form coherent thought.
Steve seems to be in the same boat, collapsing on top of you and taking a moment to catch his breath. His nose nuzzles into the skin beneath your jaw, hand releasing your leg to slide lovingly up over your waist.
“You okay?” He murmurs, and you can only nod, reaching up to wrap your arms around his shoulders with an exhausted hum.
“Still mad?” You ask, and he finally pulls back to look down at you again, fingers tracing over your still-flushed cheek.
“You can’t do that.” He says, soft and just a little rasped. “You can’t…you have to be more careful. I almost lost you.”
“Well, if that’s how you’re gonna show me that you’re mad-“
“I’m serious.” He turns your face towards him, and his eyes are soft. Vulnerable. The fire and fury from before is gone. “I almost lost you tonight. You almost…” his breath stutters a little, “I can’t lose you. Don’t you get that?”
His thumb smooths over your cheek, like he’s savoring the feeling of your skin, and you can’t blame your exhaustion for the way your heart melts.
“Okay.” You turn your face, kiss the skin of his palm. “Okay, I’m sorry.”
He nods, and leans down to kiss you, slow and sweet and soft.
And as he gathers you into his arms, lips barely leaving your skin for more than a second as he shifts to wiggle you both beneath the covers, you completely forget that you were ever upset with him in the first place. Something about him being overprotective. Or bossy. Or both.
You’ll try to remember that you’re mad in the morning. Or not. Or you’ll just hold him, and remind him how much you love him in the dim light of his bedroom, and wait until you can feel your legs again.
Steve Harrington, the love of your life, drives you absolutely fucking crazy.
You wouldn’t have it any other way.
13 minutes in heaven
★ summary: late night squawk duty has you restless & you haven’t had alone time with steve in weeks. with very little convincing you give him one song
★ pairing: steve harrington x reader
★ warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, fluff, fem reader, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, name calling, steve harrington has a disgusting mouth
★ word count: 2.5k
★ notes: so this was all i could think about while watching season 5 :) expect more of steve this next month
The ambient buzzing of electronics nearly lulled you to sleep as you spun around in the desk chair. Getting put on late-night Squawk duty wasn’t how you wanted to spend your Saturday night, but what else is there to do in a town under martial law, overrun by interdimensional creatures?
“You zoning out over there, princess?” Steve’s voice pulled you out of your moping. Turning your head to see where he was leaning against the wall of tapes, nearly as bored out of his mind as you were.
“No,” you lied, pretending to pay close attention to the vinyl spinning across from you, “Yes. What’s taking Murray so long?”
Steve answered with a shrug, glancing around the booth the two of you were currently holed up in. “You’re just like Robin. So antsy.”
“Well, Robin is currently having a fancy dinner with her girlfriend, while I'm stuck in a stuffy booth with my boyfriend waiting for a psychotic man to smuggle us in intel.” You huffed, body slumping in the chair. “We haven’t been on a date in ages.”
Your boyfriend’s face softened, pushing himself off the shelf to stalk towards you. “Baby-“
“And I know it’s selfish of me to be saying that when the world is basically ending, but-ugh.” You cut yourself off with a groan, watching as he held his hand out for you to grab. You folded your hand in his, letting him spin you out of the chair, pulling your body taut to his.
“It’s not selfish.” He swore, smiling as your hands wrapped around his neck. The gentle sound of Kim Carnes playing in the background. “Come on, dance with me. We can have our own date here.”
You didn’t even have time to protest, Steve taking your body against his swaying messily to the music.
“Okay, okay.” You giggled, doing your best to keep up with each time he tried to spin you in the tiny room. At one point, he kept you latched to his side, leaning over to push the volume control button up. A wide smirk on his face before he spun you around again. Both of your smiles were wide, lost in the joy that radiated off of each other.
“She’s got Bette Davis eyes.” Steve sang off-key, pulling you back from a spin. His front pressed against your back, the two of you swaying along as the song ended. Both of you are out of breath, bodies wracked with giggles. A sweet reprieve of love, one that neither of you realized you needed.
“I love you.” He whispered your name, his warm breath against your ear making your body shiver. His hands still gripping your jean-clad hips.
“I love you. Missed this.” You whispered, feeling his lips trail down your ear, pressing open-mouthed kisses against the skin of your neck. This was something else the end of the world didn’t allocate time for; Steve and you rarely got a moment alone. You loved Robin, but if you weren’t so thankful, she and Vicki finally got together, so it meant you two had a night alone.
His hands reached up your shirt, cupping your breasts through your bra roughly. You were so caught up in his hands, his lips sucking the skin of your neck, you didn’t even realize you were both still very much at the station.
“Baby.” You whined, pushing pathetically against him. You didn’t want him to stop, but the two of you had to keep the music going.
“Hmmm?” He hummed against your skin, one of his hands reaching down your stomach, cupping your clothed cunt. Your stomach turned with want, burning with desire. You repeated the pet name, warning him to stop.
“It’s just us in here. I’ll be fast.” He whispered, his hand popping open your jeans. Fingers pressing against the wet patch that had formed against your panties. He pushed his hips against your ass, his hardening cock pressing against you. You could feel your resolve crumbling with each gentle stroke of your clothed heat.
“You have to be fast.”
“Fuck yes.” He sighed, speeding up the movement of his hands. You were ready to succumb to his ministrations before the silence of the music ending brought you back to reasonable thinking.
“Wait, we can’t let the music go to dead air. They’ll panic.” You whimpered, trying to think as rationally as you could while Steve’s hands were all over you. The last thing you needed was the entire crawl squad busting in here while your pants were down, literally.
“Fuck, fuck what’s the longest song we have?” He reluctantly took his hands off you, rushing to the crates in the back. All you could do was hum in thought, your mind running a thousand miles a minute while Steve threw around records, the bulge in his jeans prominent. If you weren’t so wound up, maybe you would’ve giggled at the sight.
“Fuck uhh Iron Maiden three years ago? They had like a 10-minute song, right?” You offered up, his eyes shining.
“God, baby, I’m gonna fuck the hell out of you.” He whistled, holding up the vinyl like a championship trophy. “13 minutes and 39 seconds to be exact.”
Your cheeks flushed at his words, your underwear getting damper by the minute. “Do you think that’s enough time?”
He scoffed, plopping himself down in the chair. “Look at you asking silly questions. Is 13 minutes enough time to make you come? I could do it in 5. Ridiculous.” He mumbled the last part under his breath, setting the vinyl up quickly.
You rolled your eyes, still unbelieving that you agreed to this. He shushed you while the on-air light flickered on, the neon lights buzzing.
“Alright, Hawkins,” Steve’s radio voice echoed through the microphone. “We are setting sail. This next one is on the longer side, but trust me. It’s gonna be worth every single second.” His eyes were on you, while you made a show of pulling the rough fabric of your pants down your hips.
“Iron Maiden, Rime of the Ancient Mariner, hold on to your sea legs!” And he put the needle down, the on-air light flickering off. The guitar riffs bleeding through his headphones matched the thump of your heart.
“Gotta make every second count.” You smiled, keeping your shirt on for the sake of emergencies. Steve wasted no time in pulling you to him, your lips meeting with a feverish passion. His tongue explored your mouth while his hands found your hips again. His fingers dancing along your waistline, dipping inside your panties. He swallowed your shocked gasps, his fingertips sinking into your soaked cunt at last. “Oh, baby. You really needed this.”
All you could do was nod, your head feeling heavy as you leaned against him. He rubbed lazy circles around your clit before he slid two fingers inside you with little resistance. “S-steve.” You stuttered out, keeping an eye on the vinyl grooves.
“Shhhhh. Don’t focus on that. Gotta get you ready.” He cooed, coaxing more beautiful moans from your lips. Stretching you out as much as he could, given the circumstances. His cock was aching in his jeans, his other hand abandoned your back, fumbling with his zipper. His jeans fell to his knees, his cock sitting large and pretty in his tighty whities you always teased him about.
Your cunt was clenching around his fingers, desperately needing him. When his fingers pulled out tears almost sprang to your eyes, the emptiness made your head spin. “Turn round, baby.” His saccharine voice spoke. You listened, elbows finding the table, leaning against the control panel. His fingers hooked themselves in your underwear, pulling them to the floor.
A strangled moan escaped his lips, “Fuck I wish I had time to taste you.”
“Steve.” You were dripping for him, clenching around nothing while he pulled his cock out. He spat in his hand, rubbing the spit against your entrance. Not like you needed it, but the sensation had your eyes rolling into the back of your head regardless.
“Don’t worry, baby. I got you. Good girl, just like that, take this cock.” The moment his cock slid in between your lips, you were a goner, your cunt sucking his tip in greedily. With every inch he pushed in, you suckled around him, the sound already obscene.
When his hips met yours, he let out a pornographic moan. One that you’d keep in your memory for late nights alone. “So fucking tight. Basically squeezing me to death,” He breathed out, “I’m not going nowhere, baby.” He pulled his cock out halfway, admiring his length dripping in your wetness, before slamming back in. Keeping up a steady pace, hitting the deepest spots inside your cunt from this angle.
“Feel so s’good. Fuck I needed this.” You whimpered out, the faint reflection of the two of you in the glass only spurring you on more. With one hand on your hip, the other cupped the back of your neck, just enough pressure to keep you still. One thing about Steve Harrington was that he knew how to fuck. He knew your body like the back of his hand, and he played it to his advantage every time.
“I know you did. Letting me fuck you in here. Where anyone could walk in.” He growled, watching your ass ripple with each thrust. You clenched around him at his words, only making a deep laugh escape his chest.
“Oh, you like that?” He mocked, your head nodding almost instantly. You couldn’t think, you couldn’t breathe. All you could feel was Steve’s cock splitting you apart.
“Yeah, of course you do, my dirty little slut.” A harsh slap on your ass punctuated his words. This wasn’t making love; this was dirty. A primal fuck that the two of you needed so desperately.
He wasn’t taking your moans for an answer, continuing as his dirty mind ran rampant with each squelch of your cunt around him. “Say it. Say it or I stop.”
You could barely hold yourself up with your elbows, desperately trying to make sure you didn’t hit any buttons. “I’m your dirty little slut. Please don’t stop. Please.”
Tears were pricking your eyes at how fast and deep his movements were, the sound of skin hitting skin drowning out the still-spinning Iron Maiden song in the background. “Not gonna stop. Not until you’re cumming around my cock.”
A particularly deep thrust hit a spot that had your legs shaking, your body almost falling into the control board. Only stopped by Steve’s arm pulling you up to his chest, the position making him deeper inside you if that was even possible.
“You don’t want all of Hawkins hearing you cum around me, do you?” He laughed, pressing sloppy kisses to your shoulder. “Or do you?”
All you could do was nod mindlessly, your high approaching like a freight train. “I bet you’d love that, huh? Do you want me to turn the mic on? Let everyone hear how good I fuck you?”
All you could do was wail, “Steve, Steve, I’m gonna cum.”
“Yeah, you are.” He grunted, his hand reaching down to rub lazy circles on your swollen clit. “Should we let everyone hear how I make this pussy cream? How only I can make you feel this good?”
That was all it took for you to fall pliant in his arms, your cunt spasming around him. Your vision went dark, legs shaking as the euphoria washed over every nerve in your body.
When you came to Steve’s hips were stuttering, his own high approaching. He was whispering small praises into your ears, hands holding your body close to his. “That’s my girl. Did so well for me. Gonna make me come, huh? Love you.”
“Want it so bad.” You sobbed, your nails digging into his forearms while he stilled, cock twitching, his release deep inside you. Steve’s head shoved deep into the crook of your neck, grunting your name over and over.
The booth was hot, the air humid and sticky with sex. The vinyl crackling next to you two, the song almost over.
“And you thought 13 minutes wasn’t enough.” Steve laughed, sweat dripping off his brow and onto your own slicked skin. The two of you were a mess. The booth's glass is foggy at the bottom.
He pressed a soft kiss to your head before slipping his length out of you, hissing at the friction. His cum dribbled out of you, dripping down your inner thighs, making his over-sensitive cock twitch. “Stop ogling me and get me a towel.” You whined, snapping him out of his boyish haze.
He rifled through your bag using a wet wipe to clean you up, pulling your underwear and pants up for you while you were on shaky legs. You left your pants unbuttoned, content to plop down in the chair. Watching as Steve fumbled around for his own pants. A record scratch brought you out of your own ogling, switching over to another song. Unbothered with an intro this time.
“I’ll get us some water. Are you okay? I wasn’t too rough, was I?” Steve was still out of breath, leaning down to press soft kisses to your lips. You shook your head, a wicked grin on your lips.
“Not at all, baby. Though I didn’t know you were so into the idea of Hawkins hearing you split me open.”
His cheeks flushed, opening the door to the booth. “Shut up. You loved it.”
Your giggles wafted through the building as he walked into the kitchenette to retrieve cold water for the two of you. The moment Steve tossed the chilled bottle to you, you were chugging it down.
“I love you, sweet girl.” He smiled, smoothing down your frizzy hair for you. “Maybe if we get a break from sudden death, I’ll take you to a nice dinner. How’s that?”
Nodding, you leaned into his touch, kissing his hand. “Sounds like a plan, Harrington.”
Your eyes were staring into his; there was no one else you’d rather face death with than him. These last few years have brought the two of you closer with every obstacle.
“Yoo hoo!” A loud voice yelled, the front door of the station banging open with a thud. The two of you jumped up, both still disheveled. “I’ve been waiting outside for like five minutes.” Murray was standing there, eyes already narrowing in on you two. If it wasn’t your appearance, or the sheer smell alone, then your completely unbuttoned pants would have given light to what the two of you had been doing while he waited outside.
Steve was about to speak, getting cut off by Murray’s pointed laugh. “Oh my god. You disgusting kids.” He spoke, nothing but humor in his words. “Meet me outside in a few, and I'll hand over everything. Wash your hands.” He pointed at Steve while you turned around to button your pants back up. Steve was red in the face, holding his hands out like they were poisoned.
“He has a point.” You broke the awkward silence that had been hanging since the door closed.
“Was worth it though,” Steve said with a shit eating grin.
let's hear it for the boy! || steve harrington x reader
Rating: Explicit (18+)
Word Count: 10.9k
Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Best Friend!Reader
Warnings: SMUT (solo masturbation, dry humping, f!receiving oral, handjob, premature ejaculation, p in v sex), language, sexual references, Steve is very oblivious, Steve can't get it up (unless it's for you), porn WITH plot, slow-ish burn
Summary: set before s4. steve has a problem. he can't cum unless he's thinking about you. except you're his friend and he definitely doesn't have any romantic feelings towards you. at least, that's what he tells himself.
“Seriously? Katie Frey doesn’t do it for you?” You asked, sitting atop the counter at Family Video. Steve shrugged, embarrassment welling up in his chest at your words, and the general topic of conversation.
“I was as surprised as you are now,” he said, twirling a company branded pen between his fingers and hoping the fidgeting would take his mind off of how absolutely mortified he was. “Because, like, Katie is hot.”
“Absolutely. Smokin’ hot.” Your voice was muffled around a twizzler, framed by perfectly made-up lips.
He made a face at your interruption, staring at you with narrowed eyes until you mimed zipping your mouth shut.
“And like, she’s got these great tits. Huge.” Really huge, fucking perfect tits. Not that he was a perv about it, but it was hard not to notice them. “And she’s pretty. And, you know, we were going at it at her apartment after our date and I swear I was into it. But…” He stopped twirling the pen so he could bury his face into his hands, mumbling the end of the sentence. “I couldn’t… cum, you know? I had to just fake it.”
“Fake it? Were you convincing?” you asked, brows furrowed. He peered up at you through the spaces between his fingers, at the quirk of a smile on your lips. “Maybe you should show me. I’m a visual learner.”
He threw the pen at you and groaned in frustration. “You’re an asshole, you know that right? This is serious.”
You did your best to adjust your expression and be empathetic. “Okay, well that didn’t happen with Sheryl, did it?” He shook his head. “Maybe you’re still stuck on Sheryl.”
He shrugged, letting himself relax a little. “Eh, not really. She was fun, but clingy.”
You sighed, leaning forward like a scientist observing him under a microscope. “Other than like… the finale, was the sex good?”
“Yes! And the date was perfectly fine too.” He sat up straighter, crossing his arms across his chest. He was telling the truth… mostly. It wasn’t bad, it wasn’t amazing. It was just… fine. He gave you a half-smile. “Thanks for letting me talk to you about this. Robin would be all weird about it.”
You smiled teasingly. “Oh, Robin would’ve bailed the moment you said the word cum.” You altered your voice into a shockingly accurate impression of your friend. “‘Ew, Steve! I don’t want to hear about the details of hetero sex. I faked mono during sex-ed for a reason.”
“She would’ve agreed about Katie’s tits, though,” Steve insisted. “She’d pretend to be mortified that I’m objecting women or whatever, but she’d agree.”
You laughed and shook your head at his words, and he felt a tiny tug in his chest— some sort of like, stirring, big feeling.
He didn’t get it. The two of you had been friends since Freshman year, when you moved next door to Carol and she dragged you to every hangout, big and small. He always sort of figured that Carol was trying to set you up with him, but neither of you ever made a move.
He wasn’t sure why he felt that uncomfortable ache in his chest when you smiled lately. There had never been any feelings there in all the time he’d known you, right? Sure, he thought you were hot— that’s why he had to give you dating advice all the time—but that was different.
"Maybe you just need to find the right girl, or something,” you said earnestly. “Like… maybe your dream girl is right in front of you, and even if your brain doesn’t know it, your body does.”
You tucked your permed hair behind your ear and it made his stomach drop like he was on a roller coaster. And he was confused about how such a tiny sensation could feel so overwhelming when he heard the bells above the door ring.
The girl approached the counter with big brown eyes and hair that looked a little fried by bleach and perm solution. He did love curls, though.
“I called this morning,” she said, her voice low and sultry. He liked sultry. “Some guy named Keith set aside Footloose for me? Should be under Rebecca Martin, or Becky, maybe.”
Steve smiled and turned on the charm.
Becky wasn’t the hottest thing to moan during sex, but Steve Harrington wasn’t a quitter. He’d just… avoid names in general.
Steve was a gentleman. They’d gone to dinner a few nights prior, and he’d been polite and kissed her at the front door. It had gone well enough to tell Robin about, which was saying something. He liked her sense of humor, she was sweet, and her perfume was so nice that it was practically addicting.
The second date wasn’t as formal. Movie at his place, stealing his parents’ fancy wine out of the cabinet like a high schooler. It started innocently enough that he wasn’t even sure if he should go any further, keep things cool, really see this one through this time.
But, Jesus Christ, did she have other plans. Pretty, pink manicured nails traced along his thigh, dimpling the fabric of his jeans, which were already tight enough. She played coy— eyes on the movie, a satisfied smirk on her lips as her hand paused just below where he wanted it. He squirmed, just slightly, feeling his dick stir with interest. She batted big doe-eyes at him and furrowed her brows in a very practiced manner.
“Something wrong?” She asked, and he could see the amusement in her gaze as her hand wandered up, cupping the bulge that was swelling in the front of his jeans. She sprung into action after he captured her lips in a hungry kiss, making quick work of the button and zipper so she could wiggle her hand beneath his boxers.
Her hand was deliciously soft, and he liked the soft gasp of surprise that escaped her when she took him into her hand and gave a testing stroke. It was dry, and a little uncomfortable until she spat into her hand and started over. It felt good. She felt good.
“Do you wanna go to your room?” Her words were damp against the column of his throat, no doubt leaving pink stains from her lipstick.
“Yeah,” he said softly. “Yeah. I want to.”
——
His cheeks were burning as he watched Becky redress, hurriedly tugging her panties up her legs. Her annoyance and disappointment was blatant in her features, and it made his chest ache with mortification.
“That doesn’t—“ He shook his head. That doesn’t usually happen sounded like a stupid excuse, especially considering that his last hookup had ended similarly. This time had been worse. “I don’t know why that happened.”
She shrugged, shimmying into her denim skirt. “It’s whatever, Steve.”
“No, no I mean it,” he said, trying to fight the frown on his lips, trying to seem at least a little… casual about it all. He’d gone down on her until she came apart right on his tongue, then he took his time to get her stretched out and ready for him until she couldn’t take anymore and begged for him.
He wanted to fuck her, he wanted to feel her around him, warm and tight and pliant, blinking prettily up at him while she moaned and gasped. So why wouldn’t his body let him do it?
What the fuck?
“It’s fine, really. Don’t worry about it.” As soon as he heard the pity in her voice, he nearly wanted to die. “I’m only in town to visit my aunt anyway.”
“This really never happens to me,” he insisted. The look on her face— the subtle mix of disbelief and scorn— made him feel like he was a bug under her shoe.
He didn’t bother redressing more than just tugging on his boxers as she left, and he was grateful she at least let him walk her to the door after the world’s most disastrous hookup attempt.
He groaned in annoyance as he closed the door behind him, running his hands through his mussed-up hair. He was at the phone before he even realized where he was walking, dialing the number through sheer muscle memory.
“Hello?” Your voice crackled along the line, sounding sleepy. What time was it?
“Hey,” Steve said, leaning against the wall where the phone was mounted. He didn’t need to worry about calling directly from his personal line when his parents weren’t home. Besides, he was sweating, smelled like sex, and there was something comfortable about the cool, empty room downstairs. “Am I bothering you?”
“Nuh-uh,” you hummed, and he heard something shuffle on your side of the phone. “Just painting my nails. What’s up? I thought you were busy with Becky tonight?”
His heart thumped uncomfortably and he wished he hadn’t called. “Yeah, uh, she left.”
“Oh,” you replied, and he could picture the look of soft concern you would be wearing. “You sound disappointed. Did it not go well?”
Steve scratched at his chest, the hair there still a bit tacky with sweat. “Permission to overshare?”
You paused. “Hm…” Another beat. “Uh, I guess so. Why not?”
You were quiet as Steve recounted the experience with you, right down to the horrific realization that he couldn’t stay hard and their night had to be cut short. He waited as soon as he explained Becky's departure, waiting for you to laugh or tease him.
“That’s tough, but it happens, Steve,” you said softly. “Maybe your heart wasn’t in it.”
He groaned again, pressing the heel of his hand into his forehead. “I don’t care if my heart was in it. I wanted my dick to be in it.” He paused. “That wasn’t on purpose, but you know what I mean. My heart has never been a problem before.”
“Well, stress can impact performance,” you explained. “Especially if you’re psyching yourself out about whether or not you’re going to get off. Permission for me to overshare?”
He sighed and ran a hand through his mussed hair. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Permission granted.”
“Last year when they hired me at The Gap at the mall and made me a manager for no reason, I was so fucking stressed out that I couldn’t get myself off for weeks. Like, I tried everything. You know what finally helped?”
Steve swallowed. Hard. “W-what?”
“I turned off my brain for a few hours. I just let my hands wander a bit, figured out what felt good, and explored that for a while before moving on to the next spot. Eventually, I made myself cum without even realizing what I was doing.” You paused, and he heard a nervous laugh slip past your lips. “Um, that's just, like, a suggestion.”
The mental image was enough to make his cock twitch beneath the thin material of his boxers. He swallowed, trying to block out the images of you; naked, hand between your thighs, writhing in pleasure. His length throbbed again, because despite his best efforts, the image didn’t go away.
“I’m just trying to explain that it’s super common to have issues getting off, and it’s not weird!” You said, the silence clearly making you antsy. “Did that help at all?”
“Mhmm,” he hummed. “Robin would say this is a sign from the universe that I should just be single for a while.”
“Maybe.” You paused. “Give yourself some time, alright? You’ve been through a lot, Steve. Stuff like that is bound to catch up sooner or later.”
You were waiting for him by your next shift, sneaking past Robin to pull him aside. “Did you try it?” You asked, blinking up at him.
“What?” He furrowed his brows until you mimed jerking off and his cheeks fucking burned. “Oh, no. I wasn’t up for it.” He groaned. “I didn’t mean it like that either.”
“I know, I know,” you assured, a pretty smile on your lips. “So, do you think that Becky’s not…”
“Yeah, I don’t think I’ll be seeing her again, which blows.”
You shrugged. “Screw that. You can find someone way better, alright?” He wanted to roll his eyes as you grabbed his shoulders in your hands, making him look right at you. When he tried to look away, you repeated yourself. “Alright?”
He sighed. “Yeah, yeah, alright.” He wriggled out of your grip. “Can you just hand me the returns cart so I can shelve them?” You shrugged and passed him the cart, eager to offload your tasks if he was willing to take them.
He needed a distraction. Because you were wearing a black miniskirt with your dumb family video vest, and a fucking Star Wars shirt he would’ve found dorky if you weren’t perfectly endearing.
You were giggling and smiling, fighting with Robin over a copy of some movie you both were dying to see before the other. He sighed as he shelved a copy of A Christmas Story, wondering why someone would’ve rented that in August.
He got the cart shelved, helped a nice old lady find a Hitchcock movie she’d liked when her late husband showed her, and even reorganized the snack counter before he finally came upon a hitch in his day.
“Steve!” Your voice was barely a whisper, coming from Keith’s office. He looked around at the store, where Robin was sitting unfazed at the main counter, and slipped past the door.
Oh fuck. You were bent over Keith’s desk, legs sprawled awkwardly, tugging hopelessly at where your shirt was caught on a screw pinning it and you to the wall. He couldn’t even fathom how you’d gotten into that position— maybe reaching for something that had fallen behind the bulky desk?
Worst of all, that stupid mini skirt. Bent over the desk, he saw the baby blue cotton of your panties. His mouth went dry. He’d forgotten why he’d walked into the room in the first place.
“Steve! My shirt is stuck on one of the screws,” you explained, squirming slightly with impatience. “I got this when Empire came out, it’s irreplaceable. Just pull the desk out so I can move.”
It took a few seconds for his brain to comprehend what was asked of him. “Yeah. Yeah, I can do that. Easy-peasy.” He grimaced. Why the fuck did he say that?
“Steve, hurry.” He tried not to look back at your ass as he approached the desk, giving it a slight tug so you were no longer pinned. You stumbled a bit before standing and tugging your skirt down, giving him a sheepish smile. “Jesus, that was so stupid. I dropped my time card clocking in from my break. Thanks Steve.”
With the desk pulled out, you grabbed it easily and waved it in front of his face. He gave a weak heh as you patted his shoulder and sauntered back out.
He leaned against the wall, relishing in how cold it was against his weirdly hot body. He wasn’t dumb. He knew you were attractive. He thought you were fucking stunning. But you were his friend, not someone he was trying to fuck around with.
Imagine his surprise when he found himself already half-hard just from barely even a glimpse of your panties when he couldn’t even get it up for the girls he was actually trying to sleep with.
“God fucking damn it,” he muttered, adjusting himself as best as he could before stepping out of the office. As soon as he hit the floor, Robin grabbed his arm and tugged him towards a box of new releases.
“Hey, Stevie, do you mind putting out the pornos? I would but… you know. I don’t really want to.”
Better and better. “Yeah, what would Gloria Steinem think if she knew you saw a VHS sleeve that showed tits?” He raised a brow and took the new box, boasting salacious titles like— Slutty Slumber Party and Cock Fight III.
She pinched his cheek with a grin and patted his back. “You’re the best, Steve.” He rolled his eyes. He knew that already.
You caught up to him before he could pass the privacy curtain that partitioned the triple X section from the rest of the store, peering down into the box.
“Let me help you put these out,” you offered, already scooping up as many titles as you could carry from the box. It was his worst nightmare come to life— an inconvenient boner, his cute friend, and a million sets of tits and dicks everywhere the eye could see.
It was blissfully quiet as he focused intensely on alphabetizing the titles. You helped him do stuff all the time, no need for him to make it weird just because you were shelving movies like Hot Groupie Fuckfest 2.
“Maybe you should sneak one of these home,” you finally said, turning the title in your hand towards him. “It could help.”
“I don’t need tapes to get off,” he insisted, maybe a little too defensively. “I like magazines better anyway. Classier.” He swore internally, realizing he had revealed something extremely private that he hadn’t shared with anyone.
You shrugged and continued shelving. “Magazines are cool,” you replied, rather awkwardly, like you were walking on eggshells. “Very classy.”
“Nothing is wrong with me,” he finally said. His mortification had gotten the best of him and the words just came out. “I’m fine.”
“Okay…” you replied, a furrow between your brows. “I never said you weren’t, Steve. I’m just—“
“Trying to help— I know but…” he groaned, raking a hand through his hair. “Let’s drop it, alright?” You nodded in agreement and he sighed, feeling like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
The two of you stood there for a moment before you nodded back to the crate. “Okay, we’ve got, like, three dozen more to stock, so let’s just get it done.”
He hated that he’d upset you, or offended you, or made you feel any way towards him other than perfectly happy. But what was he supposed to do? The entire ordeal was utterly humiliating.
And you seemed totally unbothered as you read the back cover of some girl on girl flick, interest in your eyes. Were you into that stuff? Was that what you liked thinking about? Why was he even concerned about what you think about?
You shelved the movie and moved on— grabbing your next pile, one that took you across the room to the shelf of more taboo, kinky stuff. He stared as you got onto your knees, bending over to stock the bottom shelf. And there he was— greeted by another tiny flash of your panties under the fluorescent lights just before you tugged your skirt down.
His cock stirred with interest, toeing the line between half-hard and impossible to ignore. Jesus. Were you doing it on purpose?
“Hm? Doing what?“ you asked, glancing over your shoulder. “Because if you mean stocking the weird shit on the bottom shelf, that’s a yes. No one wants to walk in and be eye-level with Fist Fest II.”
There was something about your smile then— sweet, like you had no idea the torment you were putting him through. He wanted to cry. “I’ll be right back.”
Robin ignored him as he practically darted past her and into the back rooms. He didn’t even bother clocking out for his break before he ducked into the employee’s only bathroom and locked the door behind himself.
He wasn’t an animal. Typically, he had self control. But a week of being unable to get off combined with your obliviousness as to what you were doing to him had him ready to jump out of his skin.
He fumbled with his belt, the metal clinking echoed off of the tile walls as he practically ripped it off. He made quick work of the button and zipper of his fly, practically moaning with relief at the lack of restriction. He spat into his hand before he shoved it into his briefs, crying out in relief before he thought better of it and bit onto his fist to keep quiet.
This, he realized as he grew frustrated with the lack of mobility and pulled his dick out at work, was a new low for him. Teeth cut into the meat of his palm as he fucked his hand in earnest, muffled moans coming out strangled and desperate. There wasn’t time for teasing, for drawing it out like he usually did when he was alone. It felt like his body was a rubber band, stretched and poised to snap.
And, god help him, he was thinking about you. Of you bent over Keith’s desk, legs gangly and awkward, ass in the air, wriggling to try to free yourself before caving and asking him for help. Steve was a gentleman. He only spared one look of shock before averting his eyes. But fantasies didn’t hurt anyone.
Fantasies about you doing it on purpose— arching your back and wiggling your hips invitingly because you wanted him to see you like that. In another world, where you wanted him and he wanted you, he would’ve relished in that scenario. Of you teasing and entrapping him in some game of cat and mouse. Of fucking you over the stupid squeaky desk and covering your mouth so Robin didn’t hear. Biting into your shoulder to keep himself quiet.
He came thinking about you, a guttural, desperate moan cutting into the air despite his best efforts to stay quiet. He hadn’t realized how much he’d needed a release until he was coming down, his hand sticky and warm, cum painting the tile in front of him.
“Jesus fucking— goddamn it.” His voice wavered, most of his energy sapped. He felt pathetic as he stuffed his softening length back in his briefs and tugged his pants up, wincing at the sensitivity. And he felt even more pathetic as he grabbed paper towels from the dispenser and cleaned up his spend from the bathroom wall at his fucking workplace.
A sudden loud knock sounded on the door, nearly making him yelp. “Are you okay in there, dingus?” Robin asked, her genuine concern masked by the sarcasm that dripped from her tone. “You ran past like you needed to shit, or something, so I wanted to check.”
He sunk onto the gross bathroom floor and banged his head against the wall. Dying, he decided, would have been less painful than whatever this was.
It had been days, and he had yet to cum unless you were at the top of mind. It had to be a coincidence, like he’d Pavlov-ed himself into only getting hard if he thought about you.
No. That wasn’t exactly true. He could get hard, he just couldn’t cum unless he thought about you. There was a big difference, and it meant he wasn’t totally broken after all. It meant he could fix it.
The most inconvenient thing about it was the fact that he had to jerk off before any shifts with you or he’d have to repeat that first bathroom session, which was something he really, really wanted to leave in the past.
There was a possibility that there was something to the situation at hand— that the reason for his body’s reaction to you was beyond just physical. But that was dumb, and every time that tiny voice in his brain told him to consider it, Steve just shook it off.
His phone rang at his bedside and he sighed, tossing the book he’d been trying to read for the past hour with no avail.
“Yeah?” He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He really needed some glasses, huh?
“Hey, Steve, it’s me.” Your voice was like music over the phone, and he sat up quickly, like you were there to witness his lazy, slouchy morning. “I was just calling to ask if you could cover my shift this afternoon. I know it’s a big ask since it’s so last minute, but I can totally pay you back double sometime.”
He scratched the back of his neck. Fucking Keith was on the schedule tonight, and they hated each other. Then again, it wasn’t like he had any plans. He couldn't risk another failed hookup, or word might get around that he was a limp dick loser. “Mhmm. Shouldn’t be too bad,” he lied.
You sighed with relief on the other end. “You’re a lifesaver, Steve. I thought I was gonna have to cancel my date.”
His heart stuttered for a few moments before he recovered and tried to act casual about it. “Date? I didn’t even know you were…” He trailed off, unsure of how to even finish that sentence. His voice was higher than usual, so he cleared his throat to brush it off.
You laughed. “Yeah, I know it’s been a while. I figured I should stop waiting around for something to fall into my lap and just put myself out there, or something. You know, just… casually, nothing too serious.”
Oh. He didn’t have the right to feel disappointed, and yet… He wanted to tell you not to go, to stay home like normal, and keep things like they were already. He didn’t want to imagine you with some random Hawkins asshole right now, especially when he couldn’t think of a single person in city limits who might be worthy of your time.
It was crazy. He’d set you up on plenty of dates and coached you through even more. He didn’t have any reason to feel weird about it now.
“Steve? Did I lose you?” You asked softly. “I know you’re still dealing with… you know, everything. I don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want me to. God, hearing you talk about getting laid while I was having a dry spell used to make me want to rip my hair out.”
“It’s fine,” he insisted. “Go have a good date, and don’t let him have all the fun, alright?”
You laughed, and he could picture you wrinkling your nose the way you always did when he said something dumb. “I would never. Thanks again, Steve.”
You were giddy at work the next morning, a pretty glow about you, an unusual chipper attitude that you shared with every single guest. You weren’t even being particularly snarky with him or Robin.
“Good night?” He asked, despite not really wanting to know. God, it was like there were two halves of himself constantly working against the other.
You smiled brightly, and he almost winced. “It was so good. I think you know him— Andy from Varsity baseball in ‘84. He graduated a year earlier than us and goes to Purdue. He’s living at home while he’s doing an internship for some financial firm.”
“What happened to just being casual?” Steve asked, brows furrowing as he looked at you.
You laughed in lieu of a response and grabbed the box of merchandise for the latest new releases. He stood there dumbly until Keith knocked into his shoulder.
“Back to work, Harrington,” he said in that stupid, asshole voice of his. “These returns aren’t going to shelve themselves.”
——
“You’re glowering.” Robin whispered into his ear a few days later, so close it made him jump out of his frustrated stupor and back into reality.
“I’m not, I'm just focused,” he insisted, even though his eyes were burning holes into the back of Andy’s head. He hit stop on the tape he had successfully rewound and put it back into the case, then back into the cart for shelving.
It was the sort of monotonous task that gave him time to ruminate. And to glower.
Why was Andy even there? Just to distract you from work and charm his way into your pants? Again? You’d been shelving the same tape of The Outsiders for twenty minutes, at least.
God, he sounded like Keith. Wasn’t that terrifying?
“Do you remember him from high school?” Steve finally asked, sparing a glance back at Robin. She shrugged, and he whipped his gaze back to the two of you. His hand was on your hip, dangerously close to grabbing your ass. Classless, asshole college guy. “Yeah, I figured. He graduated in ‘84. Third baseman.”
Robin snorted. “I bet.”
“Cute. Very charming, Robin,” Steve sighed, shaking his head. He stopped the tape and slipped the cover back on. “Whatever. He just doesn’t seem her type, that’s all.”
Robin rolled her eyes and grabbed his hand before he could reach for the next tape. “Steve. Andy is exactly her type. Sweet guy, athletic, charming…” She raised her brows, like she was trying to make a point. But to Steve, the only point she seemed to be making was that Andy was the total package and he was a loser.
“I’m not glowering,” he repeated, if only to prove it to himself. “I’m just trying to finish up the rewinds since we’re down an employee.” He gave a lazy gesture towards the front of the store, where you and Andy were making eyes at each other.
Not jealous. Not jealous at all. Just… sexually frustrated. That was an easy fix.
His Rolodex was filled with girls who he’d fooled around with. When he got home, he flipped through the remaining names, each eliciting vague memories.
Deanna was hot… she had a weird laugh though. Not like you. Your laugh was a nice, warm sound. He liked your laugh more than anything. As a friend. Of course.
Maybe Kelly? She was sweet, pretty. Not as pretty as you were, obviously, but who was?
He tried calling a few, but most of them wanted nothing to do with a guy who’d forgotten to call for a few months. After his third rejection, he gave up entirely. He didn’t really have it in him to lead another girl on, anyway.
Maybe there was something there he should acknowledge. That itching, stirring feeling of want that had started to fester months ago. Gnawing at the edges of each interaction he had with you. Maybe it had always been there and his dumb body was making him do something about it, just like you’d said.
He was in a mood for the next week. He hadn’t felt this pent up since after graduation, when he had to wear a sailor uniform and perform a public humiliation ritual for minimum wage.
You sidled up to him at the register at closing, where he was getting a sick sort of satisfaction in checking on all of the late charges about to hit the overdue rentals.
You were dressed like you were going to go on a date later— with one of your favorite tops and that goddamn mini skirt. Even worse, you were smiling a pretty smile like you wanted something, which made the itch of irritation claw at his tongue. “I’m not taking another one of your shifts so that you can go out with Andy,” he said sternly, with a narrowed glance at you.
Your brows raised and you gave him a look that told him he was being an asshole, which he already knew. “Okay, one, I wasn’t going to ask you to take one of my shifts, and two, who pissed in your cereal this morning?”
He just huffed. “Sorry, long day.” Long month. “I’m being a dick.”
You smiled and nodded. “Yeah, you are… but I forgive you.” You brushed your hair back and leaned imperceptibly closer. It probably wasn’t on purpose, but your arm pushed against his and you were so warm, and you smelled like the Avon perfume your mom always bought you. ”Let’s hang out tonight. I feel like I only ever see you at work lately. I’ll rent us a movie, grab some dinner on the way… it’ll be just like old times.”
The realistic part of his brain told him it was a bad idea. He’d been plagued with graphic, explicit images of you playing in his head at the worst of times. He wasn’t sure he could trust himself to be normal about hanging out at your place.
Which was absolutely ridiculous. It would be the thousandth time he’d been over, but the odds of him getting an inconvenient, persistent boner around you were frustratingly high.
But his alternative was going home to sulk alone and sink deeper into his funk, so he nodded. “Yeah, sounds fun.” It would be fine. He could persevere.
——
Your basement had always been his favorite place to hang out. Unlike his own parents who wanted input into every facet of his young life, your parents let you do whatever the hell you wanted to the space, as long as they could store their treadmill and your mom’s Tupperware stock.
It was lit with old Christmas lights and covered in tchotchkes that you had found in garage sales. Old quilts, your grandma’s macrame, needlepoint throw pillows. It was like an estate sale had crawled inside to die, and he loved it.
The couch had an uncomfortable spring that always dug into his thighs, you picked a really dumb movie, and you had slightly burned the popcorn on the stove, but he couldn’t complain. Maybe he did need this.
”So… are you still seeing Andy?” He asked when the movie hit a lull. It wasn’t that he wasn’t paying attention, it was just hard to focus.
You laughed, shaking your head. You were sprawled across the ugly floral couch, legs in his lap, curled up facing the TV. “Ew, no,” you said with an eye roll. “He was fun at first, but I was just kind of using him, you know?”
Did he know? Probably not, but he nodded like he understood anyway. He took another handful of the mildly-burnt popcorn and watched you out of his periphery (which was, admittedly, not what it used to be).
He tried to focus on the movie some more, but it was you that broke the silence next. You shifted your legs a bit to get comfortable before he felt your gaze on him. “So, how’s your problem?” You asked.
His cheeks felt hot, like his entire head had been shoved under the heat lamp in Dustin’s turtle’s tank. “Oh,“ he cleared his throat. “Fine, I guess. I don’t know, actually. I haven’t been on any dates since Becky, so…”
“Really? Why not?” You asked, brows knit.
His expression was incredulous. Why not? Oh, nothing too bad— just that I can’t get hard lately unless I’m fantasizing about you. “Why do you think? This is totally reputation killing stuff here. I’ll be lucky if the entire female population of Hawkins doesn’t think my dick doesn’t work.”
You shifted closer, but your legs were still heavy in his lap, which he was growing increasingly conscious of. “What about when you’re alone?”
His heart started to hammer as thoughts flooded his brain of the session he’d had in the shower that morning, which had been, in part, fueled by a quick perusal of his photo album from last summer and the handful of pictures of you in a remarkably high cut swimsuit.
“Uh…” His voice was higher than usual, and he tried to bring it back down to Earth before continuing. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, glancing only briefly at your lips before forcing himself to look back up at your eyes. “Normal. It’s normal.”
“So, if that's normal, what do you think about when you’re alone?”
His throat feels tight as he tries to think of something to say other than you, you, you, you. You in your stupid granny pajamas, you in the backseat of his car, you bending over to shelve DVDs… you had burrowed into his mind and totally corrupted it. He squints, like he’s considering anything else. “Um… normal things. Just… normal stuff, you know?”
You sighed out a soft huh, and there was something in your gaze that made his stomach flip. It was an expression he’d never seen you wear so plainly, especially not towards him. Pure, hungry desire, so obvious that he had to have been imagining it. “Steve,” you whispered.
He closed his eyes, swallowing. “Mhmm? Yeah?”
“You’re hard right now.”
He glanced down as you shifted your legs again and had to swallow a pathetic moan at the tiniest amount of friction. And, well, he was obviously, undeniably hard in his jeans.
“Oh, that’s just… y’know, from me remembering all of the totally normal stuff that I—“
The rest of his lame excuse was swallowed by the warm press of your lips against his. Lapped away as your tongue slipped into his mouth and took every rational thought away with it. It was slow and sweet, like you were trying your best to savor every second of it. Jesus, had you always been that good of a kisser?
When you pulled back, with spit-glossed lips and met his gaze, he felt so turned on that his head started to swim. He couldn’t find words for how he was feeling, for how he’d been feeling, so he offered a meager, “You’re really good at that.”
You rolled your eyes and laughed, and his heart did that thing again, which felt more embarrassing than the obvious bulge straining in his Levi's. For once, his body’s ability (or lack thereof) to function was the least of his worries.
“I don’t know how much more obvious I can possibly make it,” you said softly. “I’m really into you.”
His brows furrowed. For a second, he thought he might have slipped in the shower, died, and woken up in a very forgiving afterlife. “What? Since when?”
You swallowed and chewed your lip sheepishly for a moment. “Um, on and off since I’ve known you, but, like, very much on since graduation.”
It was like a fog had lifted over his memories. The lingering touches and flirty eyes across the rooms. The late nights on the phone, where it felt like talking to Steve was the only place you wanted to be. And, frankly, it had been all he wanted to do too.
Maybe he had been a total idiot this whole time. A dense, oblivious dumb ass who had been ignoring his dream girl because she was one of his best friends first.
Then his brows knit deeper, forming two parallel furrows between your brows. “But you were just dating Andy.”
You groaned and rolled your eyes. “I was trying to make you jealous, which obviously worked since Robin told me that she caught you pouting.”
Robin. “I didn’t pout,” he insisted, but he knew that lying was futile. He had just… glared in Andy’s general direction. “Okay, fine. If that was on purpose, I’m guessing your panty flashing was too.”
That seemed to make you pause. Your head tilted, brows furrowing. “I’m sorry, my what?”
He blanched, embarrassed. “You know, the time you wore this same skirt, and you got stuck on Keith’s desk. You were messing with me, obviously.”
He could see the gears turning in your mind as you thought back to when you’d gotten stuck on the desk. As soon as the grin split across your features, he wanted to melt right into the shitty couch cushions and die next to the fucked-up spring. “You think I’d risk my Empire shirt just to turn you on?” You questioned, frankly offended at the insinuation. When his face went pink with embarrassment, you looked positively giddy. “Oh my god, Harrington you perv—“
He had you pinned on your back before you could fully form the insult, planting kisses to your neck. “You’re so evil,” he mumbled into your throat, lips grazing, soft and wet against your fluttering pulse. Each kiss made you squirm beneath him, which wasn’t doing much to help him cool down. “You’ve been driving me crazy, like you’ve got some sort of witchy spell on me.”
You giggled, and the sound went straight into the warm, gooey center of himself. “Did it turn you on?” You gasped softly. He groaned as you hooked one of your legs around his thigh and pulled him closer against you, so he was grinding directly against your core.
Did it turn him on? It had led to one of the most humiliating moments of his life, of which there had been many. It was embarrassing, but the sound of your laughter was like a drug to him, so he’d throw himself into the fire for your amusement. “It turned me on so much that I had to jerk off in the employee bathrooms,” he mumbled against your throat.
That was a dumb thing to admit. A dumb, gross, creepy thing to tell one of your best friends. Your oldest friend! Stupid, stupid Steve—
“That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard,” you said finally. One of your hands came up and he shivered as he felt your nails combing through his hair. “But you could have just told me, dummy. We could’ve run out to my car so I could take care of it for you.”
Just the thought made his hips buck against yours, seeking sweet, sweet friction between your thighs. “Don’t say things like that,” he groaned. “If you talk like that it’ll fucking kill me, I swear.”
He pulled back, just to see the sharp, wet glint of your teeth as you smiled up at him. You drove him crazy. Before, it was just in the normal ways, like when you made him give you a ride into the city and didn’t give him gas money, or when you drank too much at a party and puked on his new sneakers.
This was new. He felt stricken by some new form of hysteria, where something as tiny as the smallest twitch in your brows made him feel overcome with intense need. Jesus, he’d never been so pent up in his life. He felt the soft pressure of your leg tugging him close again, then the slow roll of your hips against his.
"Fuck," he panted. It was embarrassing, frankly, how gone he already was. He leaned down, capturing your lips with his again, and relished in the slow drag of your tongue against his.
He'd never loved a kiss so much in his life. With you beneath him, grinding up against him and moaning against his lips. The way your tongue felt tangling with his. He got too lost in it— in the kiss, in your bodies pressing together. After a while, the kissing got lost and it was just the two of you, panting into each others mouths as you slowly ground against each other.
You pulled back first— lips kiss-swollen and slick. It took everything in him not to kiss you again.
“So…” You murmured, peering up at him. When you bit your lip sheepishly, he wanted to bury his face in your throat and groan. He watched, hypnotized, as your tongue slipped out and wet your lips. “Everything definitely feels like it's working like normal.”
He nearly whined as your other hand moved down and palmed him through his jeans. Your fingers pressed against his button, working it undone. He groaned as your hand wriggled past his waistband to grope him through his briefs.
It all felt so good, too good. Your thumb brushed over the damp fabric clinging to his weeping tip and he swore he saw stars. "Ah, just… just wait—" He choked out.
You froze, brow quirked. He could feel his cock twitching in your palm, and tried to think about horrible, disgusting things to keep from coming too soon. Demodogs, Russian torture, Tommy Hagan's gym locker, mopping random kids' puke off of the Scoops Ahoy tile. "What? Is it happening again?"
"No, no, the opposite," he panted. His eyes squeezed shut and he tried to control himself as best as he could, given the circumstances. You showed him a little bit of mercy and slipped you hand free, which he was immensely grateful for.
"So I beat the curse, huh?" You asked with a coy smile. "Becky Martin and Katie Frey can totally suck it."
Steve laughed, despite everything. "Jesus, you are the curse," he said, meeting your gaze. "For the past month, I could only get off if I was thinking about you." He swallowed, feeling vulnerable with you looking up at him. "Like I said… witchy spell."
He sat back as you pushed at his shoulders, encouraging him to sit back against the cushions. His eyes widened as you shifted into his lap, the weight of you warm and comfortable there. When he glanced down at where you sat on his lap, where your skirt rode up your thighs, he got a head rush. "You know…" You trailed off, looping your arms around his neck. "Usually, I'd never sleep with a guy who said I'm a curse."
He groaned as you tugged at the hair at the base of his neck, forcing him to tilt his head back and expose his throat. He laughed weakly, eyes half lidded as he looked at you. "Usually," he echoed.
You nodded and leaned closer, so he could feel the warm buzz of your proximity. Like every cell in his body was vibrating with the desire to just press against you. "Well, someone needs to fix that attitude of yours. You've been really bitchy for the past few weeks." He scoffed at your words, but couldn't fight the smile on his lips.
You sat back on his knees and pulled his shirt over his head, revealing the toned expanse of his torso. He hummed contentedly as your fingers combed through his chest hair, just exploring the newly exposed skin.
Your hands trailed down, following the trail of dark hair on his tummy that disappeared into his briefs. He swallowed hard as you wrapped your hand around his cock, warm and tight. He wanted to see though. He wanted to look at the way your manicured hand fit around him, so he tugged his pants down and moaned at the sight.
"You must really want this," you murmured, lips twitching up in what he could only recognize as pure triumph. "You're dripping." The pad of your thumb swept over his tip, gathering slick precum to make the glide of your hand smooth.
It didn't take much. Actually, it took a mortifyingly small amount of attention. Your hand just felt so good wrapped around him, and it was the very thing he'd been fantasizing about for the past month. You, in his lap, with your hand around his pulsing cock and your lips on his throat. It couldn't have been more than three pumps of your hand, not even enough time to get a good rhythm, and he was crying out with pretty moans and shooting thick ropes of cum all over his abdomen.
His chest was heaving like he'd just run a marathon as you worked him through it. "Fuck," he panted. "Nngh— You've gotta— Ah, fuck— 's too much." You relented, like a benevolent god, and released him from your grip, so his dick twitched and softened against his stomach.
"Is that how you sounded when you faked it for Katie?" You teased.
"Oh, fuck off," he panted, a smile splitting his features.
When his mind cleared enough to have a little bit of shame, he realized how embarrassing it was that he'd finished so fast. Maybe you were into him for other things, but he didn't want to risk losing you now. So as he hastily tugged his pants back up, he stumbled through an explanation. "I'm not usually, like… I mean… I do have stamina, typically."
"I actually think it's really sweet, Steve. It's like a compliment." He was going to argue more, then you licked the cum from your fingers to clean it up and he nearly blacked out at the sight. He couldn't wait a second more, he had to have his hands on you.
"Alright, your turn," he said, and before you could say anything, he had you pinned beneath him on the couch again. He worked the buttons of your shirt quickly, until it fell open at your sides. He sat up, just to take in the sight.
"You're so goddamn pretty," he practically groaned. With your shirt undone, he relished in the sight of your tits cupped by white lace. "I don't even wanna take it off."
"Steve," you gasped as his mouth moved down your throat and sternum, until he was planting wet, hot kisses onto the plush of your breasts. He moaned against your chest, propping himself with one arm so he could grope at your tit with his free hand. You keened, arching into the attention, and he relished in your neediness. "I think you should take it off."
Your wish was his command. Not that it was such a difficult ask. He made quick work of the clasp and let you shrug it off and onto the floor. He sat back and really had to fight the urge to whistle at the sight. "Goddamn," he murmured, letting his hands roam up your body and cup your breasts.
You rolled your eyes, but he could see the tiniest bit of bashfulness in your eyes. In the back of his mind, it was kind of weird. Not bad weird, just… different. You were the person he went with to the hair salon and watched the Bulls with. It felt odd to have you pinned beneath him, moaning softly as he squeezed the plush of your tits and teased your nipples.
To your credit, you let him take his time. You let his hands wander and explore at his own pace. Your breath hitched as his hands dipped lower, until he was hiking up the fabric of your mini skirt to reveal your panties. Baby blue.
"Oh, fuck you," he groaned, meeting your gaze. "It was on purpose, you liar."
You grinned, and the smug expression you wore made him feel like his chest was going to implode. "I don't know what you're talking about, Steve. Do you really think I'd play mind games to torment you when you're pent up and needy?"
Yes, actually. He huffed and shifted down your body. He felt right at home with your thighs bracketing his head. He pressed a kiss to the soft skin of your inner thigh.
The pastel of your panties betrayed just how affected you were, much to his amusement. He ran a thumb over the damp patch at your center and felt your thighs tense on either side of him. "You must really want this," he said with a grin, echoing your previous teasing.
"Jesus, of course I do," you said, breath shuddering as he thumbed at your clit through the sodden fabric. "You're, like, my dream guy, and you're about to go down on me."
Your dream guy. Steve's pulse thrummed as he took it in. You were incredible, way too good for a Hawkins loser who spent his shifts renting video tapes. To be fair, you were also spending your days shelving video tapes, but he always felt like that was a brief stop in your life that you'd move on from.
But if you thought he was good enough to be your dream guy, maybe there was something worthwhile left in him after all.
He kissed your clit through your panties almost reverently. His tongue laved over the fabric and he groaned at the taste of you saturating the cotton. God, you were like heaven. He could have stayed like that for hours— just tasting you through your panties. Each lap over your center just soaking the fabric more, until it clung to the shape of your lips like a second skin.
It wasn't enough though, and he was too lost in his desire to be particularly patient. He wanted his tongue on you, in you, licking up every drop of your juices until he made you spill more onto his tongue. He sat up and tugged your panties down, then quickly repositioned himself between your legs with your thighs over his shoulders.
Steve's tongue darted out, wetting his lips as he took in the sight of your pussy. Slick with arousal, twitching with anticipation. He ran his thumb up the seam of you, spreading you open. He relished in the cute twitch of your clit as blew a puff of cool air over your heated, sensitive skin.
"You're really pretty," he murmured. "So wet for me. And so goddamn responsive." He grinned up at you from between your thighs, relishing in the way your tits heaved with each shuddery breath.
His tongue lapped at your center, tasting just how badly you've wanted him. You writhed beneath him, thighs tensing to clamp around his head before he finally just held them apart. He started to taste you in earnest then, lapping up your juices, stroking the bud of your clit with the flat of his tongue.
You tasted so good, practically gushing onto his tongue as he feasted on you. His tongue pressed against your entrance, just barely dipping in so he could feel the way you clenched around the intrusion.
"Fuck, Steve," you panted. Your hips bucked, practically grinding against his mouth. He moaned against you, nuzzling his nose against your clit. "That's— ah, fuck— that's really good."
He smiled against your pussy, giving a few more slow, wet kisses before he sat up. In the dim light of the basement, you could see where his face was slick and shiny with your spit and juices. "Gonna stretch you out a little for me, okay?"
You nodded, propping yourself on your elbows to see him better. He pressed another sweet kiss to your clit before he eased his middle finger into you. If he hadn't already fully recovered from his first orgasm, just the feeling of your walls clenching around his finger would have done it for him.
It took a minute for him to learn your body. Where to touch, what spots inside made your legs shake. You took two fingers easily, squirming as he pressed his fingers against a sensitive, spongy spot. Your eyes rolled back and his head thumped against the arm of the sofa, which made him grin.
"Right there, huh?" He teased. He applied a little more pressure and felt you gush around his fingers. Yeah, right there. He wrapped his lips around your your sensitive clit and sucked until your thighs trembled on either side of him.
"Steve!" You gasped, back arching. Your voice was high and breathy, he'd never heard you so desperate before. He knew you were close— he could feel your walls clenching and fluttering around his fingers. "Oh, fuck. Jesus christ, like that— Just like that—"
When you finally came around his fingers and on his tongue, he had never heard such a perfect sound before. Soft, keening moans and pretty cries of his name. Your clit twitched against his tongue, and when your sweet moans finally turned into overstimulated whimpers, he relented.
You panted, chest heaving breathlessly as you came down from your high. You propped yourself up on your elbows and giggled as he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. "Holy shit," you gasped.
He grinned, crawling up your body to plant a slow, sweet kiss on your lips. He could feel you smiling into the kiss, until his teeth knocked with yours and he had to pull back with a sheepish laugh. "Think you can give me another one?"
You raised a brow. "I can, but do you think you can?"
He laughed. Jesus, he'd been hard since he'd gotten his hands on your tits. "I definitely can."
Your gaze was on him as he stripped the rest of his clothes off— kicking his socks, jeans and briefs into a messy pile on the floor. For the first time in a long string of hookups, Steve Harrington felt self-conscious under your scrutiny.
"You're staring," he said weakly, feeling heat flood his cheeks. Usually, the second he was undressed he had a partner ready to jump his bones, but you just took in the sight of him.
"Only because you're really hot. You're forgetting that this is the culmination of every teenage fantasy I've ever had," you finally said, shifting to sit up. He hummed contentedly as you ran your hands up his chest then traced over his broad shoulders
"How did this next part go in those fantasies, huh?" He asked.
With a tiny grin, you pushed him back onto the couch, which creaked under his weight. "Well, usually," you began, straddling his hips. "They start like this."
Oh. Steve swallowed, peering up at you with wide eyes. Your hands splayed over his chest, fingers dimpling the muscle of his pecs. He groaned as you gave a slow rock of your hips, gliding your cunt along his length.
You were so wet and warm on top of him, and the precum dribbling from his tip only added to the sticky mess. All he could do was watch, totally slack-jawed as you ground your hips against his.
Well, he could also reach up and play with your tits. So he did. His heart thrummed at the soft and pretty sound that fell past your lips as he tugged and pinched your nipples.
You didn't wait any longer, not that he would have made you. There was something so sexy about the way you took control— taking his cock in your hand so you could line him up with your entrance and begin to slowly sink onto him. His hands quickly moved down to your hips, squeezing tight as you took inch after inch.
Jesus, you were taking it like a champ. With your head tossed back and your pussy clenching around his cock, he knew you really fucking loved it. He wanted you to love every bit of it.
"That's it," Steve goaded, the tiniest hint of a smirk on his lips. "Just a little more, honey. You've got it."
You moaned, lips parted as you sunk down. Warm, wet, tight until you were fully seated. A furrow formed between your brows as you stilled, accommodating to the size of him. "Fuck," you breathed, fingers tensing on his chest.
He wanted to squirm, to buck his hips deeper, to force you to finally move. But he could behave, he could let you have this. You gave a slow roll of your hips and he groaned, squeezing your hips tighter. "You doing okay?"
A cocky smile broke across your lips, and when you laughed he felt your walls squeeze around him. "I'm doing great," you said, punctuation your words with another slow grind. "I'm just trying to make sure you can last long enough to enjoy it."
His cheeks went hot with embarrassment and arousal, the smirk faded into mild offense. "Don't be cute. I'm fine."
"Yeah?" You began to move faster, your thighs colliding with his with each bounce onto him. You took him as deep as you could, then rose up until he was just about to slip out of you, only to slam back down. In, out, in, out, in, out. "Is this what you've been thinking about every time you jerked off?"
Had he thought of this? And then some. Steve had learned that he could be very creative when he needed to be. "Something like it," He managed, eyes squeezing shut as you gave a particularly sinful swivel of your hips.
He groaned, head falling back, neck bared as you rode him within an inch of his life. At least, that's what it felt like. Pretty moans and soft ah, ah, ahs slipped past your lips like his cock was punching them out of you. He moved his hands, grabbing your ass like he had any semblance of control over what you were doing to him.
Who the fuck taught you to ride dick like this? And should he thank them or murder them?
"Fuck, Steve," you panted. "Should've known you'd feel this good. No wonder you have a fucking harem around you."
He didn't want to think about that. He didn't want to think about another girl ever again. In one steady motion, he had you pinned to the couch. From beneath him, he relished in the way your eyes went wide with surprise. He didn't just feel good, he was good. He wanted you to know how good he was for you, how good he could make you feel.
"You feel goddamn perfect," he groaned. As soon as the compliment passed his lips, he felt you squeeze around him, pussy fluttering as he drove into you again and again. "So wet and tight, so pretty. Can't believe I've wasted my time when you've been right here."
Steve moved his mouth to your throat, licking and sucking and biting at all of the soft skin there. He wanted to leave a mark. He wanted Andy to show up to Family Video the next day so he could beg for a second chance, only to see you'd already moved on.
But he couldn't focus too much on vindictive pettiness when you were so beautiful beneath him, with your eyes wide and full of so much want. Had he ever felt so wanted before? So needed? Your legs wrapped around him, heels digging in to drive him deeper.
His thrusts slowed, until he was buried deep inside of you and grinding nice and slow, rubbing against the soft, sensitive spots inside of you that made you drip around his cock.
It was then that he pulled back, meeting your gaze as he ground into you. Your eyes fluttered, rolling until he saw the whites of them. "Jesus Christ," you gasped. "Fuck, Steve, just like that. Feels s'good."
He grinned, preening at your praise. He propped himself up on one arm, then snaked the other between your bodies, so he could rub at your clit. The second his thumb rubbed over the slick bundle of nerves, your walls squeezed around him so tight he could hardly move.
You cried out prettily, nails cutting into the meat of his back. "Just a little more, yeah?" He cooed. He moved his thumb a little faster, feeling the way your clit twitched against the pressure.
"Fuck—" You gasped. "Steve, god, don't stop, please—"
He could feel that the band was going to snap. Your gasping breaths and whiny moans were as much of an indicator as the fluttery way your walls clamped down on him.
Steve wasn't much better off. He could sense his impending orgasm like the buzz of lightning about to strike. A tightly wound spring, a dam about to burst. But, god, he wanted to feel you cum first. "C'mon, I've got you, sweetheart. Just give it to me."
It was a goddamn miracle that you came when you did— crying out nice and pretty as you clenched around him like a vise. The sound of his name falling from your lips, with your body enveloping him like you were made to… it was everything he'd been craving for the past month. Probably longer, if he was honest with himself.
He barely managed to work you through your orgasm before it all became too much. He pulled out and spilled onto your tummy with a guttural moan.
"Fuck," he panted, collapsing onto you. He should have been disgusted about the warm slickness of his cum sandwiched between your bodies, but he was so sated that he couldn't bring himself to care. "Was it okay for you?"
Steve propped himself up on his elbow so he could look at you. God, you were pretty. You'd always been pretty, but right now you looked so perfect.
You bit your lip and nodded. "Yeah, it was great," you replied. "Really great, actually. I guess it was okay for you too, considering I'm glazed with your cum right now."
He laughed sheepishly and rolled his eyes. "Shut up."
The two of you dressed in comfortable silence, mopping yourselves clean of fluids and sweat with a few towels sitting on top of the washing machine… that promptly went right back in for another clean.
You hopped on top of the machine when it was running, peering over at where Steve stood. "Penny for your thoughts?" You asked. He glanced over and his heart thrummed. Even in shitty lounge wear with your hair pulled back in a banana clip, you looked like a supermodel.
"Just thinking about work tomorrow," he confessed. Your brows knit in confusion as you looked at him. Work? Now? "I don't know how we're going to share a shift without me going absolutely crazy and wanting to get my hands on you. Especially now that I know that I can."
You grinned, and Jesus, he wanted to just jump your bones again. "Well, it's just you and me on the schedule tomorrow," you reminded him. "Maybe we close at lunch so you can help me with restocks? Just to make sure your problem is completely solved. I don't want you relapsing."
He knew there wasn't a chance in hell that he'd ever have a problem getting hard again. Not with you around, looking like the finest goddamn thing to ever set foot in Hawkins, Indiana. "Might as well," he said. "Just to be sure."
thank you so much for reading! i can't believe this has been in the works since 2023 and i FINALLY found the motivation to finish it!! i really hope you enjoyed, i had so much fun with this plotline :) let me know what you think!!
oh. dadas. uhm. nose. uh... dada.. uh... okay so... bangchan... hiromi higuruma.. uh.. dadas. nose... big nose... big.... dada
guys i want to make another blog for jjk fics.. guys the nanami fics... guys jjk fics... plug choso... nerdjo and fratjo... guys...
hyunjin - begin again
includes: ex!hyunjin x fem reader, guys this is rlly angsty sorry, u might be thinking lily wow this is so realistic yea well life imitates art idk whatever, p in v, no condom bc its my world, hyunjin lowk NEEDY. oral (f receiving), creampie, hyunjin likes when you cry for him! thats it
a/n: guys im so sorry ive been so dead life is just rlly fucking me over and im just a girl! but im back and i wrote this as an apology bc i love yall. and before u ask yes ill push through with the kinktober series even though its like YEARS late hehehe IM SORRY OKAY IM SORRY I LOVE U. also erm i kinda lost my taglist so... if u wanna be tagged for future works pls comment or whatever!
now playing - about you, the 1975
endings always brings such an odd calm. the gentle whisper of leaves as they wave a storm goodbye, the silent trickle of a single drop of water that kisses the melted snow of winter. the deafening silence as the band packs up, takes their last bow, and the lights turn on.
even now, its oddly calm as you watch your lover pack up his last box. though, you cant really call him that anymore can you? you figure it’ll take some getting used to.
you lean against the doorframe to your shared, or well, what used to be, shared bedroom. your eyes are swollen from the tears, puffy from the restless sleep. you watch him bend down to gather his house slippers, stuff it awkwardly on top of the pile of papers that threaten to rip the cardboard apart. you should have been the one to organize his boxes. his system doesnt make any sense.
he smiles down at the floor. “well, it makes sense to me.”
you cant argue with that. you wont. you’re tired of all the arguing. you worry your bottom lip, watching as he plucks random items of his from around the living room, and dividing them into separate piles.
mismatched socks under the couch goes with the winter scarf he had left draped over the dining chair. mug your mother had gifted him sits next to the chopsticks he won in a random raffle in his office. kuromi magnet is placed- now hang on.
“that’s mine!” you yell, legs suddenly coming to life and crossing the room into the kitchen where hyunjin stands, hands up in surrender.
“no it is not!” he gasps, as if he cant believe what he’s hearing.
“you got that for me.” you argue, eyebrows raised.
“yea i got it for you.” he sasses back.
“exactly,” you cant stop the way your voice seems to rise, snatching the magnet from his slender fingers. “you got it for me. you cant just… take it back.” you end in a whisper. behind you, hyunjin’s shoulders sag.
“okay, okay. fine.” he exhales heavily through his nose.
there goes the silence. you wrap your fist tightly around the little ceramic sculpture, chipped at the sides from constantly falling onto the floor. you always had to remind hyunjin not to close the fridge door with such a heavy hand.
“can i take this then?” he holds up the plate you had sculpted for him during a pottery date.
you nod.
“yeah? what about this?” half of the matching caterpillar mug you had gotten him at a fair.
nod.
“yea? and this?” he reaches into the drawer and grabs as many spoons as he can, shoving them into the pile of utensils on the dining table.
you only glare at him. “what are you doing?”
“no, no! since apparently, i need to ask you for permission to pack up all my shit. should i leave the plates i bought with my money? should i leave the glass i brought with me from my childhood home?” he starts to go through the pile and you watch in horror as he basically throws a tantrum, half shoving the pile into an empty box on the kitchen floor.
“what’s wrong with you?” you shriek, stomping your way to his end of the table and grabbing the spoons straight out of his hands.
“no! since my packing is such an inconvenience for you-”
“inconvenience?” you hiss, taking a step back from him. that seems to catch his attention, the way his hands fall to his sides.
“thats- thats not what i meant,”
“right. cause thats what it is, right? god, hyunjin you’re right! its such a huuuge fucking inconvenience that you choose to pluck your shit out of my apartment, basically taking half of what i own. such an inconvenience, having to pick up the pieces you’re about to leave behind. it’s such an inconvenience, having to go on and pretend the last three years of my life don’t exist, because frankly? thats the only way ill survive the inconvenience of you leaving me.” you finish with an angry sob, turning away from him and clutching at your chest.
this time, you welcome the silence. it seems as though both you and hyunjin are frozen, unmoving. outside though, the world goes on. you suppose the world outside doesnt matter. at least not now. all that matters is that hyunjin is leaving you.
you sink to the floor with a sob. behind you, hyunjin sighs. pride is a hard thing to swallow, he nearly chokes as he makes his way to you, falling to his knees behind you.
“i thought… i thought we agreed.” he whispers, fingers brushing against the back of your arm.
you flinch from his touch. “like i had a choice?” you whisper, looking back at him.
the tears pooling in your eyes finally fall, streaking down your cheeks and onto your neck. “like i was gonna make you stay? do you even know me?”
“i do, i do know you.” hyunjin sighs, allowing the most selfish parts of himself to reach for you, wrap an arm around your shoulder and pull you to his chest. you dont fight back.
“and i know that if you had it your way, you’d wait for me. even if it took five, six, ten years.” he holds you, rests his chin on the top of your head. “and i know it’d kill you. you’d resent me. you’d hate me for being away. we’d fight. we’d break up messier,”
you shake your head. “you make it sound like loyalty is a fault.”
“it is. you're loyal to a fault. you’re shaping your whole life to me. i cant stand to be the reason why you lose yourself.” he moves then, crawling to sit in front of you.
you cant stand to look into his eyes, opting to shift your focus on the floor.
“i know its harder this way,” his hand finds your jaw, gently guiding you to look up at him. “knowing that we love each other? knowing that if it were any other way, we’d make it work? i know, i feel it too.” hyunjin’s eyes start to water now, and you fear you’ll forget to breathe.
“i know,” you whisper, swallowing the lump in your throat. you wipe away the snot with the back of your hand and hyunjin laughs.
you smile sadly up at him. “im sorry. you should be excited about moving abroad. its probably gonna rock so hard.”
hyunjin shakes his head at you. “dont. dont do that,” he takes your face in both of his hands and brings you closer to him. he tilts your face up, forehead touching his. you stay frozen that way, breathings syncing up to a slowed rhythm.
you help him pack up the rest of his stuff in silence. you tape up the last box of his winter clothes, set it on top of the box hyunjin had packed labeled books and other useless shit. finally, hyunjin does a final sweep of the place. checks for the toothbrush he might have left hanging by the sink next to yours. maybe the charger by his bedside table that he shares with you. never mind the kimchi he made a few nights ago, it’s yours now. he leaves behind his hoodie on purpose, though you think he hasnt noticed. its the only memory of him he can allow you.
he walks to the front door, angry honking from the cab he had called hours ago ringing in his ears. you follow him.
he looks back at you. he’ll allow himself one last act of selfishness. he scoops you in his arms, wraps your body around his and kisses you. one last kiss goodbye. as if thatd make the whole ordeal hurt less.
you sniffle when he pulls away. hyunjin sighs.
“hey,” you whisper, nudging his shoulder with yours. “let me know when you’re back in town.”
hyunjin smiles.
you want to go home. the night's barely started, and you want to go home. you frown in annoyance as a sweaty man pushes up beside you, his chest rocking against your bare arm as he moves to the music. you make a sound of disgust, and inch closer to your table.
"you look miserable," sana whines, grabbing your hand and pulling you closer to her.
"oh yea?" you huff, squeezing myself in between her and chan, who smiles weakly at you.
"come on, y/n! its your birthday!" chan shakes your shoulders, and you smile in spite of yourself.
the club is packed tonight, everyone shoulder to shoulder on a too-tight dance floor, bumping against each other in the stuffy room. the strobe lights hurt your eyes, but you suppose its a plus when you eventually find a random man to stick his tongue down your throat and you dont need to see his face.
chan smiles at the crowd, having just finished his set. he was always the most popular dj around, people complimenting him, girls asking for his number. he's already sweeping the area for the next pretty thing to grind on later, when the alcohol sits.
sana's just there to dance. with you, most probably. shes already moving in her spot, playfully throwing her hips against you, smiling cheekily and laughing when you raise an eyebrow.
"come on, y/n!" she sings, forcing you to take three shots with her in quick succession. you wince every time, gagging at the hot liquor that trickles down your throat. she laughs, looping her arms around your neck and pulling you deeper into the crowd. "lets dance."
you let her drag you to the middle of the dance floor, pushing through bodies as they part to provide enough space for you and sana. you laugh, already loosening up. you dance with her, sweat light on your forehead and hair sticking to the back of your neck.
she grabs your hands, fingers intertwining with yours as she pulls and pushes back and forth, twirling you around with a stupid grin on her face. its useless to put up a fight. you dance with her, laughing and giggling and screaming along to the songs as you move your body against hers.
you can definetely feel the buzz a little stronger now, eyes half-closed in pure bliss as you feel a strong chest press against your back, a hand hesitantly settling on your hip. you turn around, locking eyes with a handsome stranger who smiles shyly down at you.
"hi!" you slur, throwing your hips back on him.
"hi," he breathes back, dancing against you.
"its my birthday," you offer stupidly, looking up at him over your shoulder.
he smiles. "happy birthday, then."
you hum, turning around to throw your arms around his neck. he adjusts quickly, pulling you close against him, hand settling on your lower back.
"did your birthday wish come true yet?" he asks with a cocky grin, eyes settling on your lips.
"its about to.." you smile cheekily, batting your lashes up at him. you make a show of licking your bottom lip, and he groans .
he bends down to kiss you, tongue immeadiately licking into your mouth as his hands move down to squeeze your ass. you let him, tilting your head to the side to kiss him deeper, hands settling comfortably onto his shoulders.
"oh, absolutely not!" a shrill voice yells from just behind you, grabbing your arm and swiftly pulling you through the crowd. you throw the handsome man an apologetic smile, following sana back to the table, where chan stands, brows furrowed in confusion but a knowing smirk on his lips.
"she kissed a MAN!" sana squeals, looking you at you accusingly.
you smile dumbly at her.
"so?" chan shrugs, throwing an arm around your shoulder as if to say good job.
sana gapes at him. "an ugly STRANGER had his tongue in her mouth!"
chan whistles lowly. "why you mad? i do that all the time."
"yes, well you're a manwhore."
"WHAT??"
they continue to bicker, and you settle into a nice floarty feeling in your head, leaning against chan's shoulder.
your eyes sweep across the club, watching in interest as people bump and grind on the floor. you roll your eyes. that man you kissed was cute. at least you think so. everyone looks blurry like this in you drunken state.
"shes not like that," you hear sana sigh.
ouch.
shes right, though. youve made out with strangers, sure. but its been months since you last went out, years since you last... not since.... well, that doesnt matter anymore. you try desperately to change the course your thoughts seem to take, shaking your head. you cant even allow yourself to think about.. him. you sigh, leaning your head on chan's shoulder, melting into his side as he continues to argue lightly with sana.
then you see it, from across the room.
those eyes, so familiar, sending chills down your spine.
you squint in the dark, and.... oh. oh no.
and you swear the world freezes. no more sana and chan bickering beside you, the loud music blasting through the speakers falling on deaf ears. your smile starts to fall, breath hitching when you see the man across the dance floor.
"hyunjin," you breathe, a whisper. chan and sana dont even look up at you.
but by some cruel twist of fate, its as if he heard you.
he looks up.
his eyes lock onto yours. he's evidently just as stunned as you are, plump lips parting in a shape that suspiciously looks like your name. you take it all in, the slight frown on his lips, his brows furrowed, cheeks red, eyes glazed over.
he looks... good. wide shoulders trapped in the black leather jacket he wears, one hand stuffed in his pocket, the other..
wrapped around a girl who bats her eyelashes up at him, finger toying with the buttons on his chest.
you're going to puke.
"what, right now??" chan grabs onto your shoulder, concern bleeding in his voice. his gaze follows where you're staring, his face paling and mouth going dry.
"no..." chan gasps, fingers tightening on your shoulder.
"i need to get out." you gag, pushing past chan and sana and the sweaty bodies cramped together, shoving and apologizing and hyperventilating and absolutely losing it until you finally reach the exit. you push open the metal door with a grunt, running out and leaning against a wall.
you try to breathe, swallowing back gags and holding back tears as the ground starts to spin beneath you. your arm instinctively comes to hug around your stomach when you finally puke, other hand resting on the wall and gripping at the bricks.
the bitter taste of acid makes you cringe, groaning as you rest your head against your outstretched hand, coughing as you try to catch your breath. there are tears in the corner of your eyes as you breathe deeply.
your mind is racing with a hundred questions.
was that him?
were you imaging things?
who was that girl?
why was he here?
and most gut-wrenching of all... if he was back, why didnt he tell you?
you hurl again, cringing at the sound of your dinner hitting the pavement. you can feel the bouncer's eyes on you, his face twisted in disgust.
when you feel like there's nothing else to throw up, you straighten, walking to the curb and planting your ass on the dirty side of the road. you dig into your pockets for your cigarettes, shakily pulling a stick out and lighting it.
the cigarette shakes in between your fingers as you take a deep pull in, holding it in for a second and releasing it, some of the stress leaving you.
"you smoke now?"
you close your eyes, stomach dropping.
you hate how much comfort his voice brings, even after all this time. you stay silent, hugging your knees to your chest as you take another hit.
"....its dirty down there,"
his voice is gentle. it fills you with rage.
"you should get up," he sighs. you can feel his legs bumping against your back.
"y/n." he whispers.
that breaks you a little.
"you're back." your voice is small, shaky. you blame it on the acid scratching your throat.
he stays silent. then, he sits down beside you. you can feel his face turn towards you, eyes watching you intently. but you stare ahead, taking another hit.
"why are you here, hyunjin?" you finally ask, flicking off the ash, watching it fall to nothingness on the dirty street.
he's silent for a beat. "saw you.... run out. i- i was just worried. saw you push past chan and rush out so,"
you take another deep hit. "you know thats not what i mean."
he swallows. "im just... its just for a while."
you finally look at him. how can someone look so different yet exactly the same altogether? his jaw is sharper now, lips plump and red as if he'd been chewing on it all night. but his eyes are the same.
his eyes are wide, as if surprised that you're even looking at him.
you sigh, letting the short stick fall to the floor and stomping it out with your heel. you push yourself off the ground, shaking off the gravel stuck to the backs of your thighs.
hyunjin panics, wrapping his hand around your wrist. "y/n, wait-"
"you're girlfriends probably waiting for you." you feign nonchalance, but it comes out harsh, bitter.
"she's not! she's just.." he stands, grip still firm around your hand. "she's nobody."
you scoff, pulling away your hand and crossing your arms in front of your chest. you're about to retaliate, when chan and sana push through the door and into the cold night. they look wildly around for you. chan spots you first, face falling when he sees you next to hyunjin. he jogs over, shaking off his denim jacket and settling it around your shoulders.
you step away from hyunjin and towards chan, greatfully taking his jacket and wrapping it around yourself.
"you okay?" chan asks lowly, seemingly ignorning hyunjin altogether.
you nod. "yea, was just about call you guys." you glance at hyunjin. "i want to go home now," you whisper. chan nods in understanding.
"wait, y/n." hyunjin steps forward. "i can... i can take you home. let me.. please, i just want to-"
chan huffs, calling sana over. "get an uber," he says, and sana nods quickly, awkwardly eyeing hyunjin.
hyunjin groans in frustration. "y/n, please. im begging you."
you look over at him. his eyes are wide and wet, bottom lip subtly jutting out like a kid being told no.
you swallow.
"chan.. its okay," you sigh, relenting.
he gives you a sharp look. "im not leaving you," he says, firm.
hyunjin scoffs. "chan. its not like im a stranger-"
"you might as well be."
hyunjin looks at him softly, obviously wounded.
you swallow, placing a hand on chan's arm. "chan, seriously. i.. im fine. we'll just talk." i need this, you think. he gets the message, his jaw clenched.
"your phone charged? call me. any time. ill come." he says loudly, giving hyunjin one last disapproving look before throwing his arm around sana and retreating back into the club.
you awkwardly watch them leave, chan's jacket still heavy on your shoulders. you push your arms through the sleeve, buttoning it up.
hyunjin watches you, "chan's... protective of you,"
you shrug. "its chan."
"...is it more?"
you look at him, annoyed. "what, you think id go for one of your friends after leaving me?"
he swallows, shoving his hands into his pockets and looking down at the floor.
you sigh. "what do you want?"
he looks up at you. "to talk."
"then talk."
he looks around. "here?"
you look around. you shrug.
silence.
"do... do you still live in..?"
you hum. "yea."
"can we... go there?"
the thought of hyunjin walking into your once shared apartment makes you want to vomit all over again. but you dont want to be in public. slowly, you nod.
_______________________________________________________________
the drive to your place is silent. he doesnt reach to turn on the radio, and neither do you. the car is unfamiliar. you wonder briefly if its a rental. you decide you dont really care. you face out the window for the whole trip, leaning away from him. you're greatful you dont live too far.
the elevator ride has you chewing on the inside of your cheek. the walk down the hall has you half pissing your pants. hyunjin follows behind you silently. you push open the door to your flat, holding your breath.
you switch on all the lights, shrugging chan's jacket off and hanging it up. you kick your heels off with a sigh.
"want some water?" you finally break the silence, voice cracking from the dryness of your throat.
he nods, looking around. you know what he's thinking, can see it in his face.
"didnt change much," you shrug, walking to the kitchen and grabbing two glasses and filling them with cold water.
"i see that," he says gently, kicking his shoes off, placing the keys to his car down on the table.
you offer him his glass. he takes it.
you drink, walking towards the living room and settling down on the couch. he follows, eyes darting all over the room.
"you.. literally didnt change anything," he notes, an awkward laugh sitting in the back of his throat.
you press your lips together in a line. "yea... so, you wanted to talk. talk."
he clears his throat, shrugging his jacket off and setting it on the back of the couch before sitting down on the opposite end. he just stares at you, eyes mapping your face before settling lower, to your neck, your chest, your lap.
he swallows before looking back up at you.
"you... you look good," he says weakly.
you shrug. "thanks. you do too." the silence settles awkwardly, making you squirm in your seat. "is that all you wanted to say?"
he looks pointedly at you. "you're making it difficult."
you scoff. "me?" you sit up straighter. "how am i making this difficult? youre the one who's making it all quiet and awkward."
"what do you want me to say??"
you gasp in frustration. "youre the one who asked to talk!!"
"i cant just!" he gestures wildly between the both of you. "i cant just dive deep right away!"
you snort. "dive deep? god, hyunjin just spit it out!"
"i miss you," he says weakly, as if it physically pains him to admit.
you sigh, shaking your head. "dont."
he looks at you, eyes searching yours as his eyes well up with tears. "y/n, i miss you so much." he admits pathetically, voice whiny.
"you left," you remind him, stubborn.
he sputters, mouth opening and closing as he finds the words. "we... we talked about it. we agreed,"
"i didnt have a choice!" you stand, exasperated. "you.. you wanted to find yourself, find inspiration for your art, travel the world!" you walk to the other end of the room, face hot with anger as he stares at you wide-eyed.
"i thought you wanted that for me," he says softly.
"and i thought you wanted me!" you sob, shaking your head and running a hand through your hair.
he stands, making his way to you. "i did want you. i do want you."
you shake your head. "you cant do this to me. not after ive spent all these months trying to get over you..."
his hand comes to rest on your cheek. "im so broken, y/n." he admits, bottom lip quivering as tears run down his cheeks. "i cant... i cant work, i cant eat, i cant anything without you." he wipes away your tears with the pad of his thumb.
you cry, pulling away from him. "why are you doing this to me? you... you didnt even call. you didnt even tell me you were coming."
"i... i thought you wouldnt want to see me. the thought of me calling you, texting you, and hearing nothing in return... it broke my heart," he says shyly.
you shake your head. "hyunjin, i... i cant-"
he clings on to you, one hand coming down to wrap around your shoulders, fingers tightly gripping the fabric. "you're all i can think about, y/n. i.. my drawings, theyre all you. my art, my poetry, my songs. they're all you." he rambles, dropping to his knees.
he leans his cheek against your stomach, wrapping his arms around your waist as he sobs against your top. "my heart hurts being away from you." he looks up at you.
"you... you said you're only here for a while,"
"ill stay," he wipes his tears, "i just.. i need to hear you say you want me to stay,"
you sigh, dropping to your knees in front of him. "i cant ask you to do that," you wipe away the hair that clings to his forehead. "your art is... its your passion, hyunjin. itd be selfish of me."
he sniffles, shaking his head, hands clinging onto your arms, any piece of skin he can touch. "be selfish."
he cups your face. "please. be selfish," he whispers, turning your head to kiss your cheek.
you sigh at the contact, tears stinging your eyes.
"be selfish," he hums, kissing down along your jaw.
"hyunjin," you sigh, pushing him away, then pulling him in.
he kisses you then, lips wet with his tears and his hands holding your head against his. its messy, the way he kisses you like he needs you to breathe. he wraps your arms around him, your fingers clutching onto the fabric of his shirt as he kisses you harder.
you pull away, resting your forehead against his. "we shouldnt," you whisper against his lips.
he's panting against you, hands already pulling down the straps of your top.
"i miss you," he responds, tugging your top down. he kisses down your neck, licking at the skin of your collarbone and sucking deep red hickeys there. you groan, threading your fingers through his hair. his hands find your waist, gently guiding you towards your couch. he pushes you up so you're sitting comfortably, leaving open mouthed kisses down your stomach.
he looks up at you as he flips up your skirt, fingers fanning out against your thighs and sqeezing. you watch him, fingers gently combing through his hair.
"missed you," he repeats, kissing up your leg.
you moan, squirming under him. "hyunjin," you whine, pulling his face close to where you need him.
"say you miss me too," he whines, gently pulling your underwear to the side. "say you miss me, baby."
you sigh. "i... i miss you," you gasp when he finally places his mouth on you, licking a stripe up your pussy before wrapping his mouth around your clit.
you arch your back at the sensation, hand firm against his head and pushing him harder against you. "hyunjin," you whine as he licks at you, tongue pushed out flat and dipping into your hole.
its obscene and messy, the way he spits on it and aggressively shakes his head side to side, hands holding you open for him as he eats you out.
you're already so close, tears in your eyes as you chase your peak. he slips his finger inside, arm flexing beside you as he finger fucks you hard and deep, all while tonguing at your clit.
when you cum, you scream his name. he smiles, making sure to let all the fluids collect in his mouth before he messily spite it back out. you shake, throwing your top completely off before clawing at his shoulders for him to come back up.
you kiss him, hands pulling at his shirt. he listens, quickly taking them off. he kisses away your tears as he undoes his belt, pushing his pants down just below his hips, enough for his cock to spring free. he dips his fingers against your folds and collects the wetness there before spreading it all over him.
you shift on the couch to lay on it properly, pulling him on top of you. the feeling of his weight on you makes you whimper.
he smiles at the sound. "yea? you miss me? remember how good i fucked you?" he says cockily, grinding down against you.
the head of his cock catches deliciously against your clit. you nod pathetically.
"has anyone fucked this pussy after me?" he grips your cheeks. you look up at him, shaking your head.
he sighs in relief, nodding. "good." he says simply, grabbing the base and angling it properly. he teases you, his head dipping inside before he quickly pulls out.
"hyunjin," you sob, "please... i need you."
he groans, dipping down to rest his forehead on yours. he breathes. "tell me you still love me," his voice is shy, hesitant. as if waiting for rejection.
you look up at him, cupping his cheek. "i... i love you," you admit shyly.
he groans, filling you up with one thrust. you wince at the stretch, fingers clawing down his back. he hisses at the scratch, but he continues to move.
the feeling is overwhelming. he smells like hyunjin, like your hyunjin. his skin is warm against yours, his pulse thrumming under his chest. you cant help the tears that pool in your eyes.
he pulls away to look at you properly, then shushes you. "hurts?" he moves slower. you shake your head.
"just... its just.." you whimper pathetically.
"oh, honey, i know." he coos, fucking you deeper as he kisses your tears away. "just feels good?"
you nod, sniffling. he groans at that, pace picking up. "i love you, baby. its only you. wont ever leave again, need this pussy everyday." he rambles, head resting in the crook of your neck. he holds you firmly against him, using your body as leverage to fuck you deeper, harder.
his words make you tear up, a heavy feeling settling on your chest as you wipe your tears away. he groans, shaking against you. "can i cum inside, baby?" he asks, breathless.
you nod. he moans, something high pitched and breathy as he pushes himself as deep in you as he can, cumming in broken gasps, trembling against you. you sigh, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.
you stay like that, catching your breath with his face in the crook of your neck.
and for some odd reason you feel... odd. heavy. you dont even know youre crying until hyunjin pulls away from you, eyes wide with concern as he wipes your tears.
"hey, hey. are you okay? whats wrong?"
you sob harder, body shaking as they wrack through you in painful spasms. hyunjin panics now, pulling out of you and tucking himself back into his jeans. "y/n, hey, baby. baby, hey," he pulls you up and into his arms, patting back your hair and looking at you properly.
"did i hurt you? is something hurt?"
and him doting on you makes you cry harder, the way he looks at you like... like the past months didnt even happen.
it confuses you, makes you feel weird, almost gross. you shake your head, "i cant, hyunjin-"
he pales. "hey, we dont... we dont have to talk about anything yet but.. dont.. dont say that."
you groan through the tears, sniffling. "i cant, hyunjin. you.. i.. i cant do this,"
he swallows, stilling against you. "you dont mean that. just.. just breathe, okay?"
"i think you should go," you sniffle, hugging yourself.
he shakes his head. "no i-"
"please," you sob, shifting off his lap. "i just.. i need to think. i need to-"
he swallows, face going grim. "are you serious?"
you stay quiet, sniffling as you grab a pillow to cover yourself.
hyunjin's frozen for a minute. then he grabs his shirt, throws it on. grabs his jacket. throws it over his shoulder. he doesnt waste a second, doesnt look back at you before shutting the door and leaving you in the darkness.
you sob into your couch.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
chan sighs, holding you against his shoulder.
its been a week since hyunjin.
he hasnt texted. hasnt called. you took the time to think.
the truth is, youre terrified. of not knowing, of not having things planned out. you try things again with hyunjin, he leaves in god knows when, and then what?
then what?
you cant let yourself break like that all over again. it was hell the first time. were you really going to go through that all over again?
loving hyunjin is scary. its intense. its everything. but its something you know you'll never feel ever again.
you groan, rubbing your forehead.
"was i wrong to kick him out?" you ask chan.
he shrugs. "you had sex. you're not the type to have sex with someone you dont have feelings for. i think... i think when you guys fucked, it made you realize you never got over him, not really." he offers gently, rubbing your shoulder.
you swallow, shrinking against him.
"i.. im scared," you sigh.
he looks down at you. "of what?"
"what if... what if it doesnt work out? what if... he leaves again? what if he realizes it wasnt enough after all, gets stuck again?"
he thinks for a moment. "but what if it does?"
you stay silent.
"what if.. it works? what if you and hyunjin end up sharing something other people spend their whole lives looking for? something not everyone has the privilege of experiencing?"
you shrink into the couch.
he lets out a soft laugh. "can i take you somewhere?"
you hum. "go out?"
he shakes his head. "not to party. theres.. theres a cool place i found the other day when i was on my walk. come on," he grabs your hand, standing you up.
you shrug on a coat. the sun's just about to set when you and chan walk out into the street. you're silent as you walk beside him, eyes trained on the ground. when he finally stops in front of you, your heart drops.
"we are not-"
"please." chan sighs, turning to face you. "just... just walk inside." he pouts.
you look back at the building, then back at chan. you sigh.
you leave chan, pushing open the glass doors into the little gallery. there are a handful of people walking through the different art pieces displayed on the wall, pamphlets and brochures and guides in hand as they look at every piece with admiration.
you turn to the glass, where chan waits outside with a guilty smile on his face. you're about to turn and leave when a voice calls you from another room.
"y/n?"
you swallow. you're going to kill chan.
hyunjin stands in front of you, wearing a beige button down tucked into a pair of black pants. he's dressed formally, glassess sitting on the bridge of his nose. hes so pretty.
"hi. sorry. i.. chan.."
"ive been waiting for you," he blurts, turning red.
you blink. "you have?"
he nods. "do you.. do you want to see my work?" he asks, hopeful.
when you take a beat to answer, he adds, "i.. chan told me you were coming. or rather, i begged him to ask you to come. i.. reserved it for you."
you stare at him. "oh. i.. yea. okay,"
hyunjin leads you to a seperate room. its dimmer, smaller. there are familiar paintings on the wall, mostly oils of flowers. his style is so much different than what you remembered. more defined, more... him.
"you.. you're really good," you breathe, following him around the room.
he smiles. "thank you."
he leads you deeper into the room. he stands in front of a painting of a pair of eyes, looking at you expectantly. you eye it for a moment, then gasp.
"hyunjin is that.."
"yours?" he offers, tilting his head.
he gestures towards the remaining pieces that take up the other half of the room. freehand drawings of your face, your lips, your nose, your smile. an oil painting of you and him kissing, another of you sleeping.
you know its you. theres no denying the similarities. you're speechless, taking everything in with a stuttered breath. hyunjin holds his breath, watching your reaction.
"i told you," he whispers. "everything i do... its.. you."
you turn to him, lips parted as your breath hitches.
"hyunjin.."
"i was stupid for thinking i needed to see the world for inspiration." he steps closer, brows furrowing. "you inspire me endlessly. you're in my dreams. you're there when i close my eyes." he looks down at you, hand shaking when he takes yours. "how i feel... its more than enough." he worries his bottom lip. "every thing i touch, its.. its stained with a piece of you. even when i dont mean to. thats.. thats how deeply my soul is intertwined with yours, y/n." he breathes.
you let out a soft breath, squeezing his hand. you pull him closer, throwing your arms around his neck and kissing him softly. in that space, your fears melt away.
"i love you," he breathes against your lips.
"i love you," you whisper back.
"im never leaving you again." he says seriously, kissing you breathless.
and the way his heart beats in his chest against yours, his fingers pressing down on your waist and his lips a perfect mold with yours,
you believe him.
a/n: guys im back! i had such a nasty writers block and lowk fell out of love with writing and this is my test to see if i get back into it huehuehue but anyways yea i missed tumblr omfg
⍣ ೋ cw: explicit sexual content, exes to lovers, mutual masturbation , penetrative sex, creampie, crying during sex, pet anxiety, mentions of pregnancy, artist!hyunjin, mdni
notes: in which your situationship ex hyunjin from college asks you to watch his dog for the week--and things spiral from there.
You almost don’t answer.
Your phone buzzes across the table, skittering like a beetle over the wood, and you glance at the screen with the reflex of someone who doesn’t expect surprises anymore.
Hyunjin. The name glows up at you, unfamiliar only in the way it makes your stomach twist—like a song you haven’t heard in years but still remember every lyric to.
It’s been months since you last spoke. Maybe a year since you last saw him. A coffee meetup that turned into wandering aimlessly through the park, talking like nothing had ever gone wrong between you, except it had. That night ended with a long hug and a promise to keep in touch that neither of you kept.
And now he’s calling.
You stare at the screen for another ring. Then another.
Then you answer.
“...Hello?”
There’s a beat of silence, just long enough to make you wonder if he hung up, and then:
“Hey,” he says, breathless like he’d been holding it. “Sorry—sorry to call out of nowhere. I didn’t know who else to ask.”
His voice hasn’t changed. Still soft in a way that wraps around your ribs. Still threaded with that low, careful tension like he’s always thinking five things at once and only saying one.
You shift in your seat, heart suddenly too loud in your chest.
“Okay,” you say slowly, warily. “What’s going on?”
A soft rustle comes through the line—maybe the jingle of keys, maybe his bracelets sliding against his wrist. You picture him pacing his apartment, the same way he used to during finals week, lip caught between his teeth, hair tucked behind one ear.
“I wouldn’t call if it wasn’t important,” he says. “And I get that it’s weird. Us not talking, and then—me dropping this on you.”
You glance toward the window, try not to let your voice shake. “What is this, exactly?”
He hesitates. “I have to leave the city. It’s an art residency. Last-minute. It’s… big.”
Your stomach twists again, but this time it’s sharper. Of course it’s big. Hyunjin was always meant for something more.
You lean back in your chair, eyes tracing the rain sliding down the windowpane like it’s trying to draw an answer for you. A part of you wants to ask where he's going, what the project is, if he’s excited—because of course he is, he always was, always buzzing with vision and color and a kind of hunger you never could name. But that part of you lives behind a glass wall now. You’re not sure you’re allowed to tap on it.
So you don’t ask. You swallow the words like coins dropped into a well—silent, swallowed, never coming back up.
“I’m happy for you,” you say instead, and it’s almost true. “You deserve it.”
Hyunjin exhales, and for a second you wonder if he’s smiling. “Thanks. That means more than you probably think.”
It shouldn't. But you don’t say that either.
“I wouldn’t call if I didn’t really need the help,” he adds, voice dipping a little lower now, like he’s bracing for the ask to land wrong. “It’s Kkami. My sitter canceled last minute, and everyone else is either busy or allergic. You were the only person I thought of who could handle him.”
You laugh softly, mostly out of disbelief. “Handle him? Hyun, your dog hates me.”
“He doesn’t hate you,” Hyunjin says, though there’s something too quick in his defense, too breathless—like maybe he’s trying to convince himself. “He’s just... territorial.”
You huff a dry laugh. “Yeah, I remember. He tried to piss on my jeans.”
“That was one time.”
“Twice.”
“Okay, but in his defense, they smelled like me.”
You pause. The silence that follows is sharp and sudden, the kind that cuts deep and clean. It’s the kind of silence that remembers.
Because those jeans had smelled like him—after that night. The last one. The one where he’d backed you against the wall of your own bedroom with his fingers still wet from your mouth, where he’d said things he probably didn’t mean and kissed you like he hated how much he did.
The night you both decided—without saying it—that it was over. That whatever “thing” had been pulsing between you wasn’t something either of you could hold without bleeding.
And yet. Here you are. Picking at it like a scab that never healed right.
Your throat works around the memory before your voice does. You don’t say anything at first—just sit there, hand wrapped too tightly around your phone, eyes fixed on some vague point on the wall like if you don’t move, it won’t reach you. Like you can’t still feel him, breath hot against your neck, hands fisting in your sheets, mouth tracing every soft part of you like he was trying to memorize the map of a place he had no business returning to.
He clears his throat on the other end, and it sounds like guilt. Or maybe longing. You’ve always had trouble telling the difference when it came to him.
“Look,” Hyunjin says, quieter now. “I wouldn’t be asking if I had another option. Kkami doesn’t do well with new spaces, and I can’t board him. He’s too anxious, and if he’s not with someone he knows, he’ll make himself sick.”
You finally speak, though your voice is thin. “So you want me to stay at yours.”
A beat. Then—“Yeah.”
Just like that. No sugarcoating. No backpedaling. Just Hyunjin, honest and bare in the way he always was once he stopped pretending not to feel everything at once.
You run a hand down your face. “Hyun, we haven’t talked in almost a year.”
“I know.”
“You haven’t even seen me since—”
“I know.”
He’s not angry, not defensive. Just… raw. Like the words are scraping him on the way out. You can hear the scrape.
“I didn’t think I’d ever call you again,” he admits. “I thought that was the deal. But when they offered me this residency, and I realized I had to leave tonight—you’re the only person I could trust. With him. With my home.”
You bite the inside of your cheek, hard enough to taste the coppery edge of restraint.
His home.
It’s stupid, really. How easy it is to fall back into this rhythm. How even now, after all the months, all the distance, he can still lace your name with history. You’d been friends once. Kind of. You’d laughed a lot, touched a lot, fucked even more—on couches, against doors, in the low hush of early morning when everything was tender and wrong. It was always supposed to be temporary. Temporary, but all-consuming.
But the feelings crept in like rot through the walls. And neither of you were brave enough to call it love, so you called it off instead.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” you say, but even you don’t sound convinced.
“I’ll wash the sheets,” he jokes weakly.
You laugh, soft and involuntary, the sound catching somewhere in your throat. It’s not really about the sheets.
It never was.
And the silence that follows—god, it aches. Not sharp like the aftermath of a fight, but dull and lingering, like a bruise you don’t remember getting. Like a conversation left open on a table, gathering dust.
You clear your throat. “What time’s your flight?”
“Late,” he says. “But I still have to pack a few pieces and drop off the canvases. It’ll be tight.”
“Do you need help?” The words are out before you can catch them. You curse yourself immediately for the softness in your voice.
He hesitates. “No. It’s fine. Just—just the dog. That’s all I need help with.”
Right. The dog.
You glance at your calendar. Clear. Of course it’s clear.
Of course the universe decided to leave space for this.
“Alright,” you murmur. “Just send me the code. I’ll stay at yours. It’s fine.”
“You don’t have to bring anything,” he rushes to say, and it’s like he’s trying to compensate for the ask with over-kindness. “I washed the old blanket. The one you used to crash under on the couch. It’s still there.”
Your fingers tighten around your phone.
He doesn’t mention that the last time you slept under that blanket, you were still tangled in him. Half-dressed. Half-drunk on him. That he pulled it over your hips after, when you were too spent to move, and he kissed your shoulder like he wanted to stay but didn’t know how.
You don’t bring it up either.
Instead, you breathe out slow. “Cool. I’ll head over in an hour or two.”
“Okay.”
Neither of you say I missed you.
Neither of you say This is weird.
Neither of you say Is this going to break us again?
Instead, Hyunjin adds quietly, “I’ll leave a note.”
“For the dog?”
“For you.”
You close your eyes.
“Okay.”
He doesn’t say goodbye. Just… hangs up.
And you let the dial tone ring for a few seconds longer than you should, like maybe he’ll change his mind. Like maybe you will.
But the silence stays.
And when you finally move, dragging out your overnight bag and stuffing it half-heartedly with essentials, you can’t stop thinking about the smell of his apartment. The way the floor creaks by the hallway. The coffee mugs he used to leave near the sink, rimmed with paint. The pictures he never hung. The sketchbook that held a drawing of you in fading graphite—one he never knew you found.
You wonder if it’s still there.
You wonder what else of you is.
The building hasn’t changed.
You hate that you notice. Hate that your fingers still know the keycode before you even read the text. Hate that the elevator creaks on the same floor. That the hallway smells like turmeric and old wood and the trace of him—Hyunjin, in incense and paint and something vaguely sweet.
His apartment door is unlocked, just like he promised. A sticky note is taped to the front, scrawled in the quick, crooked handwriting you used to recognize across lecture halls and grocery lists alike.
“Come in. He’s dramatic, not dangerous. Don’t let him guilt trip you.” —H.
You roll your eyes and open the door.
It looks the same. Lived-in, messy in a way that’s curated. An art book cracked open on the coffee table. Two mugs in the sink. One of his hoodies flung across the back of the couch like he wore it last night. And maybe he did.
You hear the growl before you see him.
Kkami stands in the middle of the living room, ears pinned back, hackles raised, tail stiff like an accusation. He looks you dead in the eye and lets out a snarl so pointed you actually step back.
“Oh, fuck off,” you mutter, tugging your bag higher on your shoulder. “We’ve been over this.”
He growls again. Louder.
You raise your hands. “I come in peace.”
He barks.
You take a careful step inside, nudging the door shut behind you. Kkami follows your every move like you’re an intruder in a palace he was knighted to protect.
“I’m not stealing your shit,” you tell the dog. “I’m just crashing here. Ask your absentee father.”
Kkami doesn’t find it funny.
You inch toward the kitchen, where Hyunjin’s written schedule sits neatly beside two bowls—one for food, one for water. Both full. Fresh.
You glance at the clock. He’s probably already at the airport. Maybe already boarding. Maybe looking down at the city through a plane window, tapping his fingers against the glass like he always did when he was anxious. You wonder if he thought about calling you again. You wonder if he’s relieved you didn’t call him first.
Kkami lets out a soft, pitiful whine behind you. When you turn, he’s sitting but tense, eyes never leaving you. Suspicious. Wounded. Territorial, like Hyunjin said.
“Jesus, you’re worse than him,” you sigh.
A folded slip of paper catches your eye. It’s tucked under the magnet shaped like a paintbrush on the fridge. Your name is written across the front.
Your throat tightens.
You don’t open it. Not yet.
You drop your bag by the couch and finally take a seat, letting the quiet settle around you. The apartment hums with memory. You used to sit here wrapped in his hoodie, eating leftover tteokbokki at midnight, legs draped across his lap while he rubbed lazy circles into your shin. You used to kiss in this corner. Fuck in this corner. Sleep in the bed down the hall like it meant nothing, even when it meant too much.
Kkami barks once—sharp and offended—then hops up onto the other end of the couch and curls into a tight, annoyed little donut.
“Truce?” you offer.
He sneezes. Well then.
You sigh and reach for your phone. Maybe you can FaceTime Hyunjin later. Let the dog see him. Hear him. Maybe that’ll help.
Or maybe it’ll make everything worse.
You glance over at the folded blanket. The place where you used to lay your head.
And wonder how long it’ll take for this place to feel empty without him in it.
You don’t sleep well that first night.
Kkami stays curled at the farthest edge of the bed like he’s punishing you, his little back turned, ears twitching at every shift you make beneath the sheets. He doesn’t bark, but he lets out these occasional, theatrical sighs—deep, betrayed, bone-deep things—like you’ve committed the ultimate offense by existing where Hyunjin should be.
You get it.
You feel it too.
In the morning, you wake before the sun finishes rising. The air in the apartment is cold, the kind of cold that seeps into your joints, your thoughts, the hollow behind your ribs. You drag Hyunjin’s blanket from the couch and wrap yourself in it, settle on the floor near the window with a mug of instant coffee that tastes like cardboard and nostalgia.
Kkami watches you from the kitchen doorway, still suspicious.
“Do you have a schedule, or are we just winging it?” you ask him.
He sneezes and turns his head. No comment.
The hours pass slow. You walk him—twice. He barks at a bus, growls at a stroller, and refuses to let you tie his leash to the bench while you grab a coffee from the corner place Hyunjin used to love. You wind up going without.
At noon, you wander the apartment, not touching anything but looking at everything. A half-finished canvas still rests on the easel in the corner. It’s abstract—something celestial, maybe. Blue and smoke and gold bleeding together like bruises in motion. You don’t know if it’s new. You don’t ask.
You think about texting him. Just something simple. He misses you already. Or He hasn’t peed on anything today. But the words feel too light. Too personal. You settle for:
12:31 PM — [You]: he ate most of his food. drank a lot of water too. no accidents.
The read receipt comes instantly. His reply is a few minutes later:
12:36 PM — [Hyunjin]: thank you <3
The heart curls in your chest. You close the app.
You make pasta for dinner and Kkami doesn’t touch his kibble until you sit beside him on the floor and pretend to eat a piece. Then he snarfs it all down like he’s proving a point.
That night, he won’t sleep again. He whines. He paces. He jumps down from the bed and runs to the door, then back again. Tail twitching. Eyes darting.
When you try to pet him, he flinches like he’s expecting a trick. You sit on the floor again, cross-legged in Hyunjin’s oversized hoodie (you told yourself you brought it by accident), and say softly, “He’s not here. It’s just me.”
He whines again. Low and pitiful.
“Me too,” you whisper.
You glance toward the kitchen. Toward the fridge. That little slip of paper still waits, untouched beneath the magnet shaped like a paintbrush. Your name in his handwriting. Like a bruise. Like a dare.
You haven’t opened it. Not yet.
You slept on the couch.
Not because the bed wasn’t made—Hyunjin had even tucked in the corners, left a glass of water on the nightstand like he thought about what you’d need—but because you couldn’t bring yourself to crawl into the same sheets you used to wake up tangled in. Not when the scent of him still lived in the pillowcases. Not when the memory of his hands on your bare back still lingered in the seams of the duvet.
So you curled up under the old blanket instead, the one you used to steal during lazy afternoons and Netflix half-watched kisses and accepted the fact that your neck was going to ache in the morning. Kkami refused to join you. He spent most of the night pacing between the door and the hallway, growling at shadows.
The second night is worse.
Kkami is inconsolable. He won’t eat. Won’t lie down. Won’t stop pacing between the front door and the window like he’s waiting for Hyunjin to materialize from thin air. At one point, he noses Hyunjin’s shoes—left by the entryway—and lets out a sound so hollow and pitiful it actually makes your eyes sting.
You try everything. Treats. Music. White noise. The blanket that still smells like Hyunjin’s shampoo. But nothing works. It’s like something inside him is unraveling, the cord pulled too tight and fraying with every hour he doesn’t see the one person he’s built his little world around.
Same, you think bitterly, and feel stupid for it.
You end up sitting on the kitchen floor around midnight, your legs numb, your patience thinner than it’s been in weeks. Kkami’s resting his chin on his paws but still letting out this tiny, high-pitched whine every few seconds, like he’s trying not to cry but can’t help it.
And that sound—god, that sound shatters something in you.
You sigh, rub your face with both hands, and reach for your phone.
12:04 AM — [You]: he won’t sleep. he’s been crying for an hour. won’t eat either.
You don’t expect him to reply. Not at this hour, not while he’s halfway across the country doing Important Artist Things.
But your screen lights up with an incoming FaceTime call within seconds.
Your heart drops into your stomach.
You hesitate. Just for a second.
Then answer.
And for the first time in nearly a year, you see him.
Hyunjin’s face fills the screen—soft-lit and sleepy, hoodie bunched around his neck like he’d just been getting ready for bed. But it’s not just the setting that throws you. It’s him.
The long hair you used to run your fingers through—gone. All of it. In its place: a buzzcut. Clean, close, severe in a way that shouldn’t suit him but somehow does. It makes his features sharper, more present. Like there’s nothing to hide behind anymore.
You blink. You don’t mean to stare, but the shock is immediate, visceral.
“Hi,” he says, quiet.
You swallow. “Hi.”
He sits up straighter. “Is he okay?”
You shift the camera toward Kkami, who immediately perks up. His ears shoot up like radar, and he lets out a small, startled bark before beelining to your lap—bumping his snout into the phone like he’s trying to crawl through it.
Hyunjin laughs. It’s breathless. Disbelieving.
“God, he’s dramatic.”
“He gets it from you,” you mutter.
Kkami presses against your chest like he’s trying to bury himself in your heart, finally calm now, finally still. You stroke a hand down his back and try not to think about the fact that it took Hyunjin’s voice to soothe him.
You glance at the screen again. Hyunjin’s watching you, not Kkami.
There’s a beat where neither of you speak. The only sound is Kkami’s soft breathing and the low hum of the city outside the window.
Then, gently:
“I left you something,” he says.
You swallow. “I know.”
“I wasn’t sure if you’d find it.”
“I did.”
“You gonna open it?”
You glance toward the fridge. The note still waits, tucked under the paintbrush magnet like a secret too fragile to touch.
“Not yet,” you say.
And he doesn’t push. Just nods. “Okay.”
Kkami shifts closer to your thigh and exhales, finally resting his chin on your knee. You pet him with one hand, still holding the phone in the other.
“He’s sleeping now,” you whisper.
“So are you.”
You blink. “What?”
“Your eyes,” he says. “They do that thing. The little flutter when you’re about to crash.”
You’re too tired to argue. Too tired to ask why he remembers that.
“I’ll hang up,” he offers.
You don’t say no.
You just murmur, “Goodnight, Hyun.”
And you hear the softness in his voice as he says it back:
“Goodnight.”
You don’t sleep much better that night.
But Kkami doesn’t cry again.
The next few days fall into a strange kind of rhythm—quiet, off-kilter, but somehow soothing in the way old routines can be, even when they’re made of things that weren’t meant to last.
Kkami still hates you by daylight.
He growls when you walk into the room. Barks when you open the fridge. Refuses to eat unless you pretend not to look. He doesn’t let you pet him unless he’s half-asleep or tricked by a treat, and he definitely doesn’t let you forget that this is his house, his couch, his missing person.
But at night, when Hyunjin calls, it’s like a switch flips.
Kkami leaps into your lap the moment the ringtone echoes through the apartment. He curls there, fast and warm and trembling just slightly, like he’s spent all day building tension he doesn’t know how to unspool without Hyunjin’s voice in the room.
You always answer on the couch, blanket pulled tight around your shoulders, phone propped up against a half-full glass of water. Hyunjin always looks a little tired, a little flushed from wherever he’s just come back from—a gallery tour, a studio session, a walk through some city that doesn’t have your footprints on its sidewalks.
He tells you about the art residency. The gallery director who makes coffee that tastes like battery acid. The studio space—wide and cold and full of light. He tells you about a piece he’s working on: abstract, rough, loud in a way he hasn’t painted in years.
“You’d hate it,” he laughs, voice crackling faintly through the call. “It’s all jagged lines. Chaos. I think it’s about… hunger. Or maybe grief. I don’t know.”
“I never hated your work,” you say.
Hyunjin quiets. Then, low:
“You hated what it did to me.”
Your breath catches.
Because he’s right.
You did.
You hated the way he disappeared into it—into himself—those long stretches of silence when he wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t sleep, wouldn’t touch you unless it was desperate and fleeting, like he was chasing the ghost of something he could never quite hold. You hated the way he used his own pain like paint thinner, diluted himself until all that was left was color on canvas and a shell of the boy you used to fall asleep beside.
But you don’t say that.
You just sit there, curled on his couch in his hoodie you’ve stolen from his drawer, your phone glowing in the soft hush of midnight.
“I hated how much it hurt you,” you say instead. “That’s not the same thing.”
Hyunjin nods slowly, his lips pressed into a line. “No. It’s not.”
Kkami shifts in your lap, stretching a little, his snout nudging your elbow before he sighs and drifts deeper into sleep. You stroke his fur absently, eyes still locked on the screen, on Hyunjin’s face—the new angles of it, the way the buzzcut makes him look older, sharper, like a wound that finally scabbed over.
He watches you for a while. Then murmurs, “I was scared to call you.”
You smile, tired and small. “I figured.”
“I thought you’d say no. That you wouldn’t even answer.”
“I almost didn’t.”
His throat bobs. “Why’d you say yes?”
You don’t answer right away.
Because it’s not just about the dog. Not just about the key he left under the stairs or the food already stocked or the note still waiting on the fridge like a breath you’re not ready to exhale.
You look at him. Really look.
And when you speak, it’s quiet. Honest.
“Because I missed you. Even when I hated missing you.”
The silence after is different this time.
He blinks. His mouth parts like he’s going to say something, but all that comes out is a whisper.
“Fuck.”
You let out a laugh—dry, breathless. “Yeah.”
He shifts on the screen, pulling the blanket tighter around his shoulders. “You still sleep on the couch?”
“Every night.”
“Why?”
“Because the bed remembers more than I’m ready to.”
His eyes flicker. He nods once. Like he understands. Like he hasn’t been sleeping either.
Another pause. Then—
“I dream about you,” he says.
And it’s not a confession. It’s a bruise. Something he’s been pressing on in the dark just to see if it still hurts.
You blink. “Hyun—”
“Not just the sex,” he adds, voice hoarse. “Though… yeah. That too. A lot, actually.”
You glance away, heat creeping up your neck. “You don’t have to say that.”
“I want to,” he says. “I want you to know I still—”
He cuts himself off. Breathes out hard. Shakes his head.
Kkami stirs in your lap, shifting slightly. The air feels too tight suddenly, the silence too loud.
You focus on Kkami. On the slow rise and fall of his small body, the way his paws twitch in sleep like he’s chasing something warm. It grounds you—barely.
Hyunjin exhales on the other end of the line. You can hear it, soft and ragged, the kind of breath that holds everything he didn’t say. Everything he still might.
You don’t speak. Not yet. Because what could you say? I still touch myself to the thought of you? I still wear your hoodie like armor when I can’t sleep? I still think about that night on the floor when we couldn’t stop, even though we knew it was already over?
None of it would come out right.
So instead, you keep your voice even when you ask, “Do you paint me?”
The question slips out before you can stop it. You don't even know why you asked it. Maybe its because you're so sleepy you can't filter you're thoughts. Maybe because he mentioned it once, over soggy cereal over the golden morning light that filtered through the blinds, over the laughter you've never quite had again.
Hyunjin stills.
On the screen, he doesn’t look shocked. He looks… worn. Like someone who’s been carrying the answer around for a while and doesn’t know where to put it.
“I try not to,” he says eventually. Quiet. Careful. “But you always end up there.”
Your breath falters. You nod slowly, like that’s an answer you expected—because it is. Because you knew. Somehow, you always knew.
You shift the phone slightly, angle it so he can see the window behind you. The dark skyline. The reflection of the room, soft and gold and full of ghosts. Your voice is steadier than you feel when you say, “I haven’t opened it.”
“I know,” he replies, just as soft.
“I want to. But…”
“You don’t have to explain.”
“I think I need more time.”
“Take it,” he murmurs. “I left it because I had to, not because I needed anything back.”
You nod. Not that he can see it—not really. But somehow, you think he feels it anyway.
“Okay,” you say. It's the only thing you can manage that doesn’t crack under its own weight.
A pause stretches between you. Soft. Not cold. Just full. Like the breath before a confession. Like the second before a kiss.
Kkami snores lightly, curled deeper into your lap now, his whole body lax with trust. You glance down at him, stroke a thumb between his ears, then look back at the screen.
Hyunjin’s still watching you. Not the dog. Not the view.
Just you.
“You’re wearing my hoodie,” he murmurs, a little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
You shrug, suddenly shy. “Didn’t pack enough layers.”
“I knew you’d steal something,” he says, teasing, but low—like he's remembering the way you used to steal everything from him. His clothes. His time. His breath.
“You left the drawer cracked open on purpose.”
“Maybe.”
His smile softens into something quieter. More real.
“I used to love seeing you in my stuff,” he adds. “Used to come home and hope you’d be there. Curled up in it. Pretending to wait for me.”
You swallow. It’s harder than it should be. “I wasn’t pretending.”
Hyunjin blinks slowly. Like that hit him somewhere unexpected. Somewhere tender.
And then, quietly, almost afraid to hope: “Are you still?”
You could lie. You could deflect. But instead, you meet his eyes through the screen.
“I haven’t been with anyone else.”
His jaw works. “Neither have I.”
The words land between you like a marker—drawing a line not to separate, but to measure distance. And maybe the distance isn’t as wide as you thought.
Your fingers curl a little tighter in Kkami’s fur.
“I should go to bed,” you say. Your voice is quiet. A little raw.
“Okay,” Hyunjin whispers. “Me too.”
But neither of you move. The seconds tick by. You don’t even blink.
Eventually, he says, “Tomorrow night. Can I call again?”
You let out a soft breath, not quite a laugh. “Hyun… you’ve been calling every night.”
His smile doesn’t fade, but it shifts—tilts into something deeper. Less playful. More certain.
“I know,” he says. “But that was for Kkami.”
You blink. “And tomorrow?”
His gaze doesn’t waver. Not once.
“That’s for you.”
It knocks the wind out of you a little, the way he says it. Not romantic. Not dramatic. Just simple. True. Like he’s only just letting himself say it out loud, but he’s known it all along.
Your throat tightens. “Oh.”
Hyunjin watches you carefully. “Is that okay?”
You nod once. “Yeah. It’s… more than okay.”
Something in his posture loosens then, like he’s been holding a breath he can finally let go of. His shoulders drop. His mouth twitches again, a smile fighting its way to the surface but not quite forming—like he’s still afraid to want too much, to hope too fast.
You don’t know what tomorrow will bring. Not really.
But you know you’ll answer.
And maybe this time you’ll stop pretending it’s for the dog.
“You’re on the bed.”
Hyunjin says it the moment the screen connects. No hello. No lead-up. Just those four words, soft and low and unmistakably aware.
You blink at him from where you’re sitting, back pressed to the headboard, knees pulled up beneath the comforter. His comforter.
You almost lie. Almost say you were just passing through. That the light was better in here. That Kkami stole the couch.
But Hyunjin’s already smiling—slow and knowing, like he’s been waiting for this.
You exhale through your nose. “Kkami’s on the couch.”
“Mm,” he hums, a little amused. “So it’s just you in my bed.”
Your fingers tighten around the phone, feeling a little flustered. “Is that going to be a problem?”
His eyes darken a shade, but the smile stays. “Not even a little.”
You roll onto your side, careful not to let the phone slip. The sheets are warm beneath you, still smelling faintly like cedar and fabric softener and something only he ever carried. His presence is everywhere in this room. On the walls. In the folded clothes. Under your skin.
Hyunjin shifts on his end of the call—he’s propped up on pillows, a fitted black tank clinging to his chest, the cut of it leaving little to the imagination. His toned arms are on full display, lean muscle catching the dim light, subtle and sculpted like something sketched in charcoal. His expression is unreadable, caught somewhere between reverence and restraint.
“I thought about you today,” he says after a beat.
You tuck your face into the pillow, just a little. “Like you usually do?”
“Yeah,” he breathes. “But this time I didn’t fight it.”
Your heart thuds against your ribs, slow and heavy. “What were you thinking?”
His gaze dips, like he’s shy all of a sudden. “That I miss you. That I used to wake up to you in that bed.”
You swallow, voice thinner now. “It’s a little colder without you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
The silence that follows is different from all the others before it. It’s thick. Electric. It hums with all the things neither of you have said but haven’t stopped feeling. The kind of silence that shifts when the air gets warmer, when the breath starts catching, when the ache finally starts to slip through.
Hyunjin wets his lips. His voice is barely a whisper. “You look good there.”
You bite the inside of your cheek. “I feel... restless.”
He shifts again, almost imperceptibly. “Tell me.”
Your gaze flickers. “Tell you what?”
“What you’re thinking. Right now.”
You hesitate.
But then, softly, deliberately: “I was thinking about your hands.”
Hyunjin’s mouth parts slightly.
“I was thinking about how you used to touch me here,” you say, dragging your fingers over the blanket, slow, just below your collarbone. “And here.” Down, lower now, to the place between your ribs.
His breath stutters through the speaker.
“And I was wondering…” you murmur, voice barely above a hum, “if you miss the way I used to say your name when you touched me like that.”
Hyunjin closes his eyes for a second. When he opens them again, they’re dark, focused, hungry.
“I think about it all the time,” he says. “Every fucking night.”
Your thighs press together under the blanket. You feel your pulse everywhere—behind your knees, in your fingertips, between your legs. It’s not even about the sex. Not yet. It’s about the weight of being wanted by someone who remembers you—who still remembers.
“I haven’t touched anyone else,” you say.
He swallows hard. “Don’t.”
“I don’t want to.”
Hyunjin nods slowly. “Me either.”
Then, quiet: “Can I stay on the call?”
You blink. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” he says, voice rough now, “if I asked you to touch yourself… would you let me watch?”
Your breath catches. Not from nerves. From need.
You don’t say yes. You just let the phone settle against the pillow beside you, angled toward your face, the way he used to tilt your chin when he wanted a better look at how undone you were.
The sheets shift as your hand moves lower.
Hyunjin watches. And when he speaks, it’s barely a whisper, like he’s already somewhere far beneath the surface with you.
“Fuck. You always looked so pretty like this.”
You inhale shakily, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your sleep shorts, slow and careful, testing the heat already gathered there.
Hyunjin’s eyes drag down your body. His tongue flicks out to wet his lips. His voice is rough with memory.
“Remember that time on the floor? After your exam? You were so out of it—barely undressed. I just shoved your panties to the side and made you come in, what, two minutes?”
You let out a quiet, choked sound at the back of your throat.
He smiles—crooked, dark. “Yeah. You clenched so hard around my fingers I thought I’d lose them.”
You whimper softly. Your hand moves slow, wet, dragging through the mess of your own need, slick pooling beneath your fingertips like your body remembers him even better than your mind does.
“God, that sound,” Hyunjin breathes. “That little gasp when you’re just starting to touch yourself. Same one you made when I used to run my fingers down your stomach—real slow, just to watch you twitch.”
You press harder against your clit, circles tightening, mouth falling open as your back arches into the memory. He’s not even touching you, and still—your body bends like it’s learned him by muscle memory.
Hyunjin notices. Of course he does.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, voice gone low and ragged, the kind that scrapes the inside of your throat just hearing it. “All spread out in my bed. Fucking yourself open with your hand like you want me to see everything. Like you know I used to make you feel better than anyone else ever could.”
You moan, breath catching, and Hyunjin’s smile sharpens.
“Touch your tits,” he says, not as a command—but a conjuring. Like he already knows you’re aching for it. “Lift your shirt for me.”
You obey without a sound, pushing the hem up slowly, just enough to expose the curve of one breast, the soft point of your nipple hard and aching from the friction of your shirt.
He groans. “You remember how obsessed I was with your tits? Couldn’t stop sucking on them. Couldn’t stop biting.” His jaw clenches. “You used to beg me to be gentle. And then beg me not to stop.”
Your fingers slide down again—slippery, desperate. Your thighs shake under the weight of it. The rhythm is messier now, your hips chasing pressure. Hyunjin watches all of it, his hand dragging down his torso, disappearing beneath his waistband.
“Touching yourself in my bed,” he growls. “Wearing my shirt. Letting me watch while you make yourself come for me.”
He’s panting now, hand working slow, deliberate strokes beneath the screen. His tank top clings to his chest, sweat beading along his collarbones. His buzzed hair is messy, sticking slightly to his forehead, and his mouth—his fucking mouth—is red and parted, like he’s still tasting you.
“You remember the way I used to fuck you from behind?” he says. “Pushed your face into the mattress, held your hips like you’d run from me if I let go?”
You whimper—your fingers falter, then speed up.
“Could barely breathe, baby. You’d just sob into the sheets. You loved it. Took every inch, crying like you couldn’t handle it—and still begged for more.”
Your body goes taut, heels digging into the mattress, orgasm hovering just out of reach.
Hyunjin's voice drops to a growl, breath quick and filthy. “Bet your pussy’s fucking tight right now. Clenching like it forgot what it’s supposed to take—like it’s trying to remember the shape of my cock.”
He groans, low and wrecked. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll teach it again. I’ll stretch you open so slow you feel it for days. Won’t stop ‘til you’re dripping all over my sheets, crying into the pillow, begging for more.”
You whimper his name—helpless. Shattered.
“You want me to say it?” Hyunjin pants, fist working now, muscles flexing. “Want me to tell you how I’d do it?”
You nod, frantic. Desperate.
His voice turns molten. Thick with lust, arrogance, something cruel and beautiful.
“I’d start slow. Tease you with just the tip. Let you feel the stretch, let you beg for the rest of it. Then I’d give you all of it at once—deep, hard. Just to see you fucking cry.”
You do cry out. The tension in your body snaps tighter, hips lifting off the bed, toes curling. So close.
“I’d fuck you into the mattress,” he growls. “Grip your hips and slam into you so hard you’d lose your voice. You remember how I’d do that? Say, ‘You’re not done yet, baby. You can take it.’ And you always fucking would.”
You’re whimpering now, moaning into your own shoulder to muffle the sound, fingers moving in slippery, filthy rhythm. The orgasm’s close—so close—spooling at the base of your spine, hot and tight and relentless.
“Oh, fuck, there it is,” he gasps, fucking into his fist now, stroking faster. “You’re close. I can see it—hear it. Just like that, baby. Let go for me. Come for the boy who still dreams about the way you taste. Come for the fucking lunatic who’d trade his last painting just to feel your pussy clench around his fingers one more time.”
That breaks you.
You moan his name—soft, ruined, high-pitched—and you come with your hand buried between your thighs, eyes fluttering, back arching. The pleasure pulses through you in waves, soaked and frantic and unstoppable.
“God, you’re still so fucking perfect,” he grits out. “I could’ve painted this. You—like that. That’s my favorite version of you.”
You whimper, still trembling.
He grins. Dark. Gleaming. “Wanna see what you do to me?”
You nod, dizzy.
He shifts the phone—just enough for you to see the slick length of him in his hand. Red at the tip, dripping, veins thick under taut skin. His pace is ruthless now.
“I used to fuck your thighs just to tease you,” he pants. “Not even your pussy. Just that pretty space between them. Used to slide my cock right there and come all over your stomach.”
You let out a breathy sound of disbelief, hips twitching in aftershock. Your cunt flutters around nothing, empty and aching.
“Fucking ruined me,” he snarls. “You ruined me. No one else has even come close. No one sounds like you. No one feels like you.”
And then, through gritted teeth:
“I’m gonna come thinking about your mouth. That filthy little tongue. That sweet fucking smile you gave me while I fucked your throat.”
Your legs tremble again.
“Fuck, baby—fuckfuckfuck—”
He comes with your name on his tongue, head thrown back, muscles tensed, body shuddering through it as his hips stutter beneath the blanket. His jaw slackens, hand squeezing out the last twitch of pleasure.
The silence after is sharp. Breathless.
Your own body still buzzes, skin flushed, sheets damp with sweat and want and memory.
Neither of you speak at first. Just breathing. Just staring.
Eventually, Hyunjin looks up again. His voice is hoarse, trembling at the edges.
“Tell me this isn’t just sex.”
You don’t.
You just stare back.
And then you hang up.
You hang up, and your hand is still trembling. Your whole body is still trembling, wrecked in ways that have nothing to do with the orgasm.
It takes less than a minute for him to call back.
Then again.
And again.
You watch the screen light up with his name—Hyun—and each time, it makes your stomach twist so violently it feels like punishment. Like grief.
You don’t answer.
The fifth time, he stops calling. Thirty seconds later, your phone dings with a text.
[Hyunjin]: i’m sorry. please just tell me if that was too much. [Hyunjin]: i didn’t mean to push you. i didn’t mean to fuck everything up. [Hyunjin]: we don’t have to talk about it. we can pretend it didn’t happen if you want. i’ll follow your lead. just… please say something.
You don’t respond to those either.
You just turn off read receipts and shove the phone under the pillow.
The next few days go by in a strange, slow blur.
You and Kkami settle into a rhythm. He doesn’t bark anymore when you walk past. Doesn’t flinch when you reach for his leash. He even curls up at your feet when you’re on the couch, sometimes nuzzling his nose into your ankle like he’s already decided you belong here.
It should feel comforting.
It doesn’t.
You stop sitting in Hyunjin’s bed. You stop wearing the hoodie. You wash it, fold it, and put it back exactly where you found it, like none of this ever happened.
You send him brief texts. Clipped. Neutral.
[You]: he ate all his dinner. no accidents. slept fine.
[You]: took him for a walk. he peed on someone’s shoe.
[You]: when’s your flight again?
You don’t tell him how it feels like the walls have closed in.
How you’ve stopped sleeping in his bed again—even if the couch hurts your back. Even if the couch doesn’t smell quite like him.
How Kkami curls up beside you now without growling, without guilt. You take him for long walks. Let him tug you through the park. Let him bark at pigeons and lick your knuckles and rest his chin on your thigh when you scroll through old texts you don’t send anymore.
You don’t cry. But your chest aches in a way that feels dangerously close.
You were never going to be able to leave without feeling like this.
But now it’s worse. Because you let yourself want again.
And it’s giving you vertigo.
[Hyunjin]: should be back around 5:30. just leave the key in the box. thank you again. for everything.
You stare at the message for a long time.
Not because of what it says.
But because of what it doesn’t.
And what you don’t know is this:
Hyunjin’s lying.
His flight lands at 3:10.
He’s already halfway through the city when you’re zipping up your bag.
He’s already in the elevator by the time you’re taking out the trash.
And he’s standing at the front door—key in hand, chest tight, hands shaking—when you reach for the handle to leave.
You open the door and nearly collide with him.
You freeze.
The air catches.
Time does something strange.
Hyunjin’s just… there.
Sweatshirt slung over his shoulder, suitcase by his side, curls of damp air clinging to the collar of his shirt from the humid sprint through the city. And his eyes—sharp, dark, wide with something between relief and devastation—lock onto yours like he’s forgotten how to blink.
For a second, neither of you speaks.
Then—
“Hyun—?”
Kkami barrels into view like a missile. He lets out a shrill bark of excitement and practically throws himself into Hyunjin’s legs, circling and jumping and whining like he’s just won the fucking lottery.
But Hyunjin doesn’t look down. Doesn’t move. Doesn’t even blink.
He just stares at you.
And says, low, quiet, steady:
“You were really gonna leave.”
You clutch your bag a little tighter. “You said you’d be back at five.”
“I lied.”
You swallow. “I figured that part out.”
His jaw clenches. His hands twitch by his sides, like he doesn’t know whether to reach for you or shove them into his pockets or bury them in your skin just to make sure you’re real.
Kkami lets out another bark, trying to wedge his head between you two like he’s the center of gravity—but Hyunjin doesn’t even glance down. Not once.
All of him is focused on you.
“You weren’t going to say goodbye.”
It’s not a question. It’s an accusation. A plea. A wound.
“I didn’t think you wanted me to.”
“Bullshit.”
That makes you flinch. Just a little. He sees it. His expression softens, but only barely.
Hyunjin steps forward. Not fast—but purposeful. Like if he stops now, you’ll disappear all over again.
“I’m sorry,” he says, voice taut with something sharp. “I’m sorry I came on too strong. I’m sorry I didn’t give you time. I’m sorry I didn’t say what I should’ve said months ago, years ago—fuck, the morning after. But don’t stand here and tell me I didn’t want you.”
You inhale—tight, shallow. Like there’s no room in your lungs for this.
For him.
“Hyun—”
“No,” he cuts in, but it’s not cruel. Just cracked. “You don’t get to walk out and let me find the ghost of you in my bed again. Not after you let me see you like that. Not after I—”
His voice breaks.
He swallows it down.
Kkami sits at his feet now, finally quiet, as if even he knows this part isn’t his.
“I meant it,” Hyunjin says, softer now. “That night. Everything I said. Everything I remembered. It wasn’t just to get you off.”
Your fingers tighten around the strap of your bag.
“You said you missed me,” he goes on. “But then you shut the door in my face. And I was willing to pretend I didn’t care. I was willing to take scraps just to be near you. But if you’re still standing in front of me—if you haven’t walked away yet—then just fucking tell me.”
He looks at you like he’s trying to memorize you all over again.
You look at him. Really look. And you know—he’s not going to let you run.
Not this time.
“Go get the note.”
His voice is soft, but firm. Like a command spoken through a kiss. Like an ache wrapped in velvet.
You blink. “What?”
“The letter,” he repeats. “The one I left you. On the fridge.”
You freeze.
“I know you haven’t opened it.”
You swallow. “I wasn’t ready.”
“I don’t care,” he says, and there’s a flicker of something dark in his voice—something possessive, guttural. “I want you to read it. Now.”
You hesitate.
“Please,” he adds, and that’s what breaks you.
You nod—barely—and turn without a word. Each step toward the kitchen feels thick, underwater.
You open it, and—
It’s not a letter.
Not really.
It’s a patchwork of thoughts, of half-confessions. Scribbled lines, crossed-out phrases, uneven spacing. The ink changes color midway—black, then blue, then black again. Some words are written in cursive. Some in a rush. Some like they cost him something to write.
You glance up. He nods again.
“Read it,” he says. “Out loud.”
You hesitate. Then you read.
“You once laughed in your sleep, and I didn’t sleep at all that night. I just watched you and hoped that whoever you were dreaming about looked like me.”
You swallow hard. Keep going.
The ink shifts color. From deep black to something fainter. Navy. A pen running dry, maybe.
Your voice wavers.
“There’s a sweater you left. It doesn’t smell like you anymore. I hold it anyway.”
Hyunjin’s throat works. He doesn’t interrupt.
“I never painted your face. Couldn’t do it. Couldn’t get your eyes right. But I painted your hands. A hundred times. Because they always knew how to hold me better than I knew how to ask.”
Your chest twists. You can’t speak the words out loud anymore, but you read. You read and read and read until there is nothing left, until the space between you feels alive–electric.
He steps forward. Just one step. But it’s enough to close the distance.
“I lied,” Hyunjin says, voice low, rough. “The sitter didn’t cancel.”
You blink. “What?”
“I had people,” he continues. “So many people I could’ve called. People I trust. People who would’ve said yes.”
His eyes are burning now—dark, wet, glittering with something fragile and ferocious.
“But I didn’t want them. I wanted you.”
You don’t say anything. Can’t. Your hands are trembling.
“I told myself it was about Kkami. About the timing. About convenience.” He huffs out a broken laugh. “But it wasn’t. It was you. It was always you.”
Your breath falters.
“I missed you,” he says. “So much it made me sick. I thought I could bury it. Paint over it. Work through it. But I couldn’t. I never did. You’ve always been underneath it all—under the hunger, the silence, the mess I made of myself.”
He steps closer. You’re breathing the same air now.
“I loved you then,” he says. “When we were tangled up in bedsheets and half-truths and pretending it didn’t mean anything. I loved you when you wore my hoodie and called me yours with your eyes. I loved you the second I saw you, and I—”
His voice cracks.
“And I love you now.”
You don't remember moving. Don’t remember closing the gap, dropping your bag, reaching for him with hands that should’ve known better.
All you know is this: one second, you're blinking back tears, and the next, you're kissing him like you're drowning.
Hyunjin catches you with both hands—one at your jaw, the other curling around your waist, steadying. The kiss is messy, open-mouthed, frantic. His lips part on a gasp when you press your body to his, and then he's devouring you like something starved.
Your back hits the wall. His teeth scrape your bottom lip. Fingers thread into his hair—short now, prickling at the scalp—and he groans like it’s breaking him.
You drop your bag. You don’t even hear it hit the floor.
You don’t care.
His hands are everywhere. On your waist, your hips, the curve of your spine. He pulls you in so tight you feel the tremor in his arms, the sheer desperation coiled in his chest like a spring pulled too far.
“Fuck,” he whispers, forehead pressed to yours. “I’ve wanted this—I’ve wanted you—”
His voice breaks again, and then he’s back on you, lips trailing across your jaw, down the line of your neck. You tilt your head back, eyes fluttering shut, mouth parting on a moan as he bites softly into your throat—just enough to mark. Just enough to remember.
Your hands scrabble at the hem of his shirt, yanking it up, palms hungry on bare skin. He hisses as your nails drag over his stomach, muscles twitching beneath the heat of your touch.
“Take it off,” you breathe.
He does. In one motion, the tank top is gone—flung to the floor like it offended him. And you stare. You can’t help it.
He’s still art. Still all sharp lines and soft skin and lean, desperate hunger. His chest heaves with every breath, sweat glinting in the hollow of his throat, and you think: I could die like this. I could burn for him and never want to be saved.
Hyunjin kisses you again—harder this time, hungrier. Like he heard it. Like he wants to go up in flames with you.
His hands slide under your thighs, lifting you without warning, and you gasp as your back hits the wall again, legs wrapping instinctively around his waist. The air shifts. Your breath catches. His cock presses against you through his jeans—thick, hot, twitching with every grind of his hips.
“I can’t wait,” he pants against your mouth. “I need to be inside you. Right now.”
“Then do it,” you breathe, dragging your nails down his back. “Hyune—please—”
Hyunjin breathes something that sounds like a curse, or maybe a prayer, and then he’s walking—stumbling, really—half-guided by the desperate way you’re clinging to him, the press of your mouths, the sharp hitch of your breath when he grabs at your ass to hold you higher. You barely register the shift from wall to bedroom until your back hits the mattress, until the world becomes sheets and skin and the low rasp of his voice murmuring your name like it’s sacred.
The mattress gives beneath your weight, springs groaning under the tangle of limbs and heat and history. Hyunjin follows you down like gravity itself — hands sliding, mouth chasing, body already slotting between your thighs as if it never forgot where it belonged.
His shirt is gone. Yours joins it. He kisses you through every inch of skin he unveils, frantic and starved and reverent, like he’s not sure whether to worship you or ruin you.
You arch beneath him when his tongue traces the curve of your breast, the bite of his teeth following fast after — a soft sting that makes your breath catch, your fingers dig into his shoulders. He groans when your nails drag down his back, when your thighs fall open wider.
And then he’s there — rutting against your center, clothed still but so hard it aches through the friction, the weight of him pressing perfect and punishing between your legs.
You can’t think. Can’t breathe. Can only move — hips grinding up to meet every desperate push of his, your cunt soaked and aching with the need to be filled.
Hyunjin’s hand slips down, hooking your thigh over his hip. He grinds into you through the last barrier, jeans rough against your soaked underwear, and it’s filthy the way your body answers—already arching, already clenching around nothing. You chase the friction shamelessly, trying to wring every ounce of pressure you can from the maddening drag of his cock pressed to your core.
He hisses against your throat, breath hot, teeth scraping the fragile skin there. You’re drenched. There’s no mistaking it—the way your panties cling, the way your slick seeps through them and stains his jeans, how he shudders just from the heat of you pulsing against the fabric.
The zipper’s down before you can even register the motion. He pushes his jeans low enough to free himself—hard and heavy and flushed dark with want. Your mouth waters at the sight of it. He tears your panties off with a quiet growl, not cruel, just crazed with the need to feel skin on skin, no more layers, no more time.
When he lines up and pushes in, it’s one long, devastating stroke—his cock thick and perfect and stretching you open like you were made for it.
You gasp—sharp, strangled. Your nails sink into his back.
Hyunjin goes still.
Buried to the hilt inside you, his entire body trembling with restraint, every muscle locked tight like he’s trying to keep himself from coming right then and there.
“Fuck,” he breathes, voice wrecked. “You—oh my god—”
His forehead drops to your shoulder. He’s shaking. You feel it. In his arms, in his breath, in the way his cock pulses deep inside you without moving. The kind of overwhelmed that turns to worship. The kind of ruin that feels like coming home.
You tighten around him instinctively—hungry, pulsing—and he lets out a strangled moan against your skin.
“I swear to god,” he whispers, forehead pressing to yours. “If I move, I’m gonna come like a fucking teenager.”
Your nails dig deeper into his back, anchoring him there, as if you could stop time with the press of your fingertips. His cock twitches inside you, thick and throbbing, and it feels like too much and not enough all at once.
Hyunjin groans—low, raw, like the sound is being dragged out of him by force.
“Fuck, baby,” he pants. “You feel… I forgot—fuck, I forgot how perfect you are.”
You whimper, breath caught in your throat. You’re stretched so full it feels like splitting—blissfully unbearable. Like he’s carved to fit you, or maybe you were carved for him.
He doesn’t move. Can’t. His whole body is locked in place, every muscle drawn taut with the kind of restraint that hurts.
“I’m gonna embarrass myself,” he rasps. “You’re so warm, I—I need a second.”
You nod, gasping. “Okay.”
But your body doesn’t care. It’s greedy. Slick clings to your inner thighs, to the base of his cock. You pulse around him again—tight, hot, involuntary—and he shudders, a curse breaking on his lips.
“You’re doing that on purpose,” he whispers, biting your shoulder.
“I’m not,” you breathe, but your hips roll anyway, a tiny grind up into his stillness.
Hyunjin moans—loud, broken. “Baby, I’m serious. You do that again and I’ll fucking—”
You clench again, on purpose this time.
He snaps.
In one hard thrust, he pulls out halfway and slams back in. You cry out—sharp, wanton—as your body folds around his. The stretch. The impact. The sound of skin on skin.
“Oh my god,” you gasp, your head tipping back, throat exposed.
Hyunjin watches the way your mouth parts, how your breasts bounce with every desperate snap of his hips. He groans then drops his mouth to your chest, sucking a bruise over your heart.
“This mine?” he pants, dragging his cock out slow before plunging back in. “Still mine?”
You can’t speak. Can only nod, breath caught in your throat. He fucks you through the motion, slow and deep now, the grind of his cock so obscene you swear you can feel him everywhere—behind your knees, in your throat, echoing in every part of you that remembers how he used to love you.
“No, baby,” he murmurs, voice fraying, fingers sliding under your knee to push your thigh back, opening you wider. “Say it. Let me hear you say it.”
“It’s—” Your voice breaks on a moan when he thrusts deep again, dragging against that spot that makes your vision go white at the edges. “It’s yours, Hyunjin. Always.”
He groans into your chest like the words punched the air out of him. Then he’s fucking you harder, deeper, like he’s trying to anchor himself in the way you take him. The bed creaks, the headboard thuds against the wall, but you don’tHe moans into your chest like the words physically hit him, his thrusts growing messier, more frantic. His hand finds yours and pins it above your head, fingers lacing together tight, grounding him even as he loses himself in the slick, pulsing heat of you.
You’re soaked, ruined, trembling under every thick slide of his cock. He hits so deep it borders on pain, and yet you arch into it—into him—dragging him closer, clawing at his back like if you could just get closer, it might be enough.
“I missed this pussy,” he growls, the words slurred and broken against your throat. “I fucking dreamed about it. Thought about it every night with my cock in my hand—nothing felt as good, nothing—fuck—”
You keen, high-pitched, overwhelmed. Your body pulses around him again, tight as a vice, and it makes him stutter—a half-thrust cut short by the shudder that runs through him.
He kisses you then—desperate, biting, tongue dragging into your mouth like he wants to consume you from the inside out.
You’re moan is swallowed by his mouth when he hits that spot—deep and relentless—and your whole body jolts. Your back arches, your legs tighten around his waist, dragging him deeper.
“Right there?” he growls. “That the spot, baby?”
You nod, frantic, mouth open but no words coming—just breath, just heat, just the sound of him splitting you open again and again.
Hyunjin grins. It's crooked. Crooked and cocky and dizzy with something feral. Like he’s gone. Like you’ve pulled him under with you.
“Yeah,” he breathes, thrusting deeper, slower now, grinding his hips in a filthy circle that makes your eyes roll back. “I remember. Right there. Got you clenching like you’re about to cry.”
His voice breaks on a moan, guttural and reverent. “Fuck, that’s so pretty—so fucking pretty, baby—your face when I fuck you like this.”
He’s unraveling, you can feel it—his rhythm fraying, pace faltering, every thrust a prayer half-remembered. He buries himself deep and stays there, hips pressed flush, cock pulsing inside you like a heartbeat. His forehead falls to yours again, and he’s breathing so hard it shakes both your bodies.
“You gonna cry for me?” he whispers, voice all fray and silk. “Wanna see it, wanna feel you fall apart. I’ll take care of it—I’ll hold you through it, I promise.”
You don’t mean to. But it’s been too much—his mouth, his voice, the stretch of him splitting you open in perfect, deliberate ruin. Your eyes blur, your breath hitches, and before you can stop it—
A tear slips down your cheek.
Hyunjin sees it. And something inside him shatters.
“Oh my god,” he chokes, fingers trembling where they hold your thigh. “That’s it, that’s—fuck—”
He fucks you through it, slow and deep, every stroke angled to keep you on the edge. His free hand cradles your face, thumb brushing the wetness from your cheek. And he’s murmuring now, wrecked and ragged and sweet:
“You’re so good for me. So perfect. I don’t deserve you—I don’t—”
You cry out again, back arching as your orgasm hits—wave after wave of unbearable heat crashing through you. You seize around him, walls fluttering, hips stuttering beneath his weight.
Hyunjin groans like it’s killing him. Like the feel of you falling apart around his cock is undoing him thread by thread.
“Can I—fuck, baby, where do you want it?” he gasps, teeth gritted, body coiled so tight you think he might break apart if you say no.
“Inside,” you breathe, wrecked and shameless. “Want it inside—please.”
That last word shreds him.
He thrusts once—deep, sharp—then again, slower this time, drawn-out like he’s trying to memorize the way you feel. His eyes flutter shut. His mouth falls open. And then he’s coming—hard.
A low, desperate sound tears out of him as his cock jerks inside you, spilling warmth in thick, molten pulses. He buries himself as deep as he can go, arms trembling around you, breath stuttering in your ear. His whole body shakes with it, every muscle straining to stay rooted in you as pleasure rips through him like lightning.
He stays like that—deep inside you, trembling, breathless—until the shudders fade to something softer. Something quieter.
The kind of silence that feels like safety.
His forehead rests against yours, damp hair brushing your temple, and you can feel the weight of him everywhere—his chest pressed to yours, his arms wrapped around your waist, the steady thrum of his heart syncing with your own.
Neither of you speaks.
There’s nothing left to say.
Just breath. Just warmth. Just the slow, wet drag of him slipping out of you when his body finally yields, when your bodies finally remember they’re separate things again. You wince a little, overstimulated, but he’s careful—gentle hands guiding your hips as he settles beside you.
The bed is a mess. You’re a mess. But in his arms, none of it matters.
He pulls you close, one hand curling behind your neck, the other splayed low across your spine. You fit against him like you were made to—legs tangled, faces barely apart. His eyes find yours, dark and soft and unreadable. And then—
He kisses you.
Slow. Tender. Unhurried. Like he’s not trying to restart anything—just thank you, silently, for letting him fall apart in your arms.
Your fingers slip into his hair. His thumb draws circles at the base of your spine.
And in that quiet, breathless space—there is no ache, no past, no noise.
The gallery hums with low conversation and champagne glasses clinking. Golden evening light filters through tall windows, casting Hyunjin’s paintings in soft amber and dust. He stands near one of his larger pieces—stark, aching, all deep reds and pale ivory brushstrokes layered like wounds healed over—speaking to a small crowd of critics and curators, hands moving with slow confidence as he explains his process.
It’s been years since he’s spoken like this—without apology. Years since he let the world see him this raw and unguarded. He’s dressed in black from head to toe, long hair tied back loosely, wedding band glinting when he gestures. He looks settled now, anchored. And you know what it took to get him there.
You weren’t supposed to come.
He’d kissed your forehead this morning, hand warm and reverent on your swollen belly, and told you to rest. “You’ll just get exhausted,” he’d said, brushing your hair back, “and I’ll be distracted the whole time wondering if your ankles are swollen or if the baby’s doing backflips again.”
But now you’re here.
Standing just inside the gallery, framed by the door like something sacred. You wore the dress he loves—the one that drapes gently over the curve of your belly, soft and simple, glowing in the dusk light. One hand rests instinctively at your side, the other slipping under the swell of you. There’s a quiet smile on your lips, half proud, half bashful, and your eyes are locked on him.
Hyunjin doesn’t see you at first. He’s mid-sentence, talking about brush technique and layered memory, about how grief isn't linear, how art can be a body trying to heal. His voice is steady. His hands are sure.
Then he glances up.
And freezes.
You watch it happen in real time—the shift. His mouth stutters around a word, vowels cut short, fingers faltering mid-gesture. And then—god. That smile. Unrehearsed, boyish, wide in a way that crinkles his eyes and ruins all pretense. A pure, delighted thing that belongs only to you.
A few people glance over their shoulders, curious. But Hyunjin barely notices.
He catches himself, coughs once, and somehow fumbles through the last few lines of his explanation. His voice is softer now. Almost sheepish. He wraps up quickly, answering a question with a vague nod, thanking the crowd with a half-bow.
And then he’s moving.
Straight through the gallery, long strides purposeful, eyes never leaving yours.
You open your mouth—maybe to apologize, maybe just to greet him—but he’s already cupping your face in his hands before you can speak. His fingers are cool from holding a champagne flute, but his palms are warm. Familiar. His touch gentle despite how frantically he reaches for you.
“You’re unbelievable,” he says, kissing your forehead. “I told you not to come.” A kiss to your nose. “I specifically said—” another to your cheek, “—that I’d worry—” your chin “—that you’d get tired,” he murmurs against your skin, peppering kisses like punctuation. “That your feet would swell. That you’d—fuck, baby, I said stay home.”
You smile, tilting your head just enough to meet his gaze—warm and full of something playful. “I know, but—”
He kisses you.
Soft and certain, his mouth presses to yours before the words can even leave your lips. It’s instinctive, almost impatient, like he couldn’t bear to hear the excuse when you’re standing right here, glowing and breathless and his. His hand curls at the back of your neck, thumb brushing the line of your jaw. You feel him smile into it, lips warm and reverent, like maybe he’s trying to convince himself he’s not dreaming.
You giggle against his mouth.
It bubbles out before you can stop it—light, easy, surprised by your own happiness.
“Hyunjin,” you laugh, gently pushing at his chest. “Let me speak.”
He leans back only a little, just enough to see you again. There’s a smudge of your lip gloss at the corner of his mouth, and you wipe it with your thumb, grinning.
“You’re ridiculous,” you murmur.
Hyunjin pulls back just enough to look at you—really look. His eyes trace every inch of your face like he’s memorizing you all over again. His thumb sweeps over your cheekbone. “You take my breath away,” he murmurs, like a confession. “Every damn time.”
You want to say something—something light, something teasing—but the way he’s looking at you leaves no room for irony. Just warmth. Just wonder.
And love. So much of it, it floods the space between you.
His hand slips down, resting over the swell of your stomach, and he sighs when he feels the smallest kick beneath his palm. “Little traitor,” he whispers to your bump, grinning. “You two planned this, didn’t you?”
You feign innocence. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Mhm.” He leans in and kisses you again—soft, slow, not quite chaste. Like there’s no one else in the room, no critics still lingering, no gallery full of people pretending not to watch the artist come undone in the arms of his muse.
Eventually, he pulls back—just a little. Just enough to rest his forehead against yours.
“Stay?” he asks, almost shy. “I want to show you something. After everyone leaves.”
You nod.
You nod, and his smile deepens—boyish, brilliant, the kind that still makes your knees weak even now. He kisses you one last time, quick and giddy, before reluctantly pulling away with a soft groan, dragging his hand down your arm like he’s tethering himself to you.
“I’ll be quick,” he promises, squeezing your fingers before turning back toward the crowd. “Don’t go into labor while I’m gone.”
You roll your eyes fondly. “No promises.”
He shoots you a look over his shoulder—mock-scandalized, lips twitching with laughter—and then he’s swept back into the flow of guests, nodding politely, shaking hands, answering a few last questions as people begin to drift toward the exit.
You watch from the side, sipping sparkling water from a plastic flute someone handed you, perched on the edge of a velvet bench like you belong in one of his paintings. A few guests glance your way—some with recognition, some with curiosity—but none of them matter.
You only watch him.
And he watches you too—between conversations, between thank-yous and signatures, his gaze keeps sliding back—like a tether, like gravity, like a vow that’s already been made a hundred times in silence.
You smile around the rim of your glass and press a hand to your belly, where the smallest flicker answers back. A quiet reminder of everything the two of you have built in the quiet spaces between the chaos. In the brushstrokes. In the breathing.
The gallery empties slowly, like a tide pulling away from shore. But you stay, bathed in golden light, watching the man you love exist in a room full of people who will never know him like you do. Who will never see the version of him that wakes up sleep-tousled and soft, who talks to your stomach like it already understands him, who paints love into everything he touches because he’s learned how to survive by making beauty out of ache.
☆han - super graphic ultra modern girl!☆
the first installment in seung-mong's kinktober 2024!
synopsis: han thinks hes seeing things. he usually enjoys camping by himself, but when a bright light and a high pitched noise makes his head throb and his nose bleed, he genuinely thinks he could die. now he REALLY thinks hes seeing things because.. is that someone falling from the sky? after deciding to sleep on it (passing out), he meets you. and uh, oh yea. he's definitely seeing things! "it doesnt matter tho, he'll never have what it takes to be with a girl like me!"
includes: loser nerd PERV!han x alien fem!reader, subby hanji, han jisung is a SIMP LOSER he is so desperate its silly, mention of bondage, use of some kind of aphrodisiac, its really nasty and sloppy bc han jisung has a spit kink i didnt say it i mean i did but i uhm anyway
wc: 10 k WOAH
a/n: wanna know what this super hot alien baddie is saying? use this! thanks for being so patient. i love u
han jisung sweeps back the stray strands of hair that have fallen across his forehead, the thin layer of sweat making it stick uncomfortably against his skin. his brows are furrowed, eyes squinted against the harsh rays of the sun.
he could have picked a better spot to set up camp, but he's far too lazy to pack everything up and find another place. besides, he risks losing this perfectly fine clearing in between the thick of the trees. he supposes its decent enough, close enough to the stream so he could make several trips back and forth to refill his canteen.
he wishes minho was with him, though. he's not really that used to camping alone. by now, minho and him would be fishing for dinner. instead, han decided to pack as many canned foods and prepped sandwiches he could to last him the next couple of days. he never had much luck with fishing anyway.
honestly, you would have thought he was being forced to do this all alone! he shakes off the thought, promising himself that he was completely fine with the fact. he digs for his fishing hat in the duffel bag he proceeds to unceremoniously toss into his tent.
"first order of business, build a fire." he speaks out loud to himself. he jolts back as if surprised by the own sound of his voice, then chuckles to himself.
"okay this is a little weeeeeird," he shakes his head, eyes trained on the ground for any promising branches he could use for his supply.
"hm, not that weird? people talk to themselves all the time." he shrugs, bending down with a squeak as he grabs a couple of logs, then tucks them under his arm.
"nah, its weeeeeird. you're here all alone in the middle of the woods and talking to yourself. OUT LOUD. like a full on conversation. as if there are two parties exchanging information. YOU'RE ALL ALONE. and you're still talking out loud...." he continues to yap to himself, the only other sound besides his voice is the satisfying crunch of the leaves under his boots. he decides that bones crushing would sound similar.
"okay, that was a weird thought. do you need help? hahaha"
he cringes when his voice echoes.
he takes a deep breath and holds it, letting it out only when he feels the familiar burn in his chest. he shakes his head, chuckling at himself.
he wonders how long it will take for him to break.
by his eighth hour alone, han jisung feels like he's going just a little crazy. at first, he thought he was hearing voices. it turned out to be his own. talking. out loud. into the darkness of his tent.
he sits against the pole supporting his tent in the middle, knees to his chest and his arms wrapped around his legs. he finally got to reading the beaten up copy of pride and prejudice that hyunjin lent him, but after reading the same sentence eight times over and over again, he yelled out loud, scaring himself in the process, and chucked the book to the other end of his sleeping bag.
"i should sleep," he groans, looking out into the dark of the forest.
"but its at such an awkward time!" he whines, rubbing his face in frustration. "if i sleep now i'll wake up soooo earlyyyy."
"but im so bored!"
han groans, turning around to lean his head against the wooden pole. he stays like that for a while, chewing on his bottom lip. he's been silent for too long, the ringing in his ears is getting louder and louder.
"fine! i'll go for a walk!" he clasps his hands together before pushing himself off the ground, grumbling to himself as he pulls on his padded jacket and slips into his thick boots. he double checks the burner he used to heat up his dinner is off, and zips up his tent.
it's way too cold for him to be out here right now. han immediately realizes his mistake a good mile away from his camp when a shiver runs down his spine the third time in a row within a five minute interval. the hand holding his flashlight is shaking violently, the other hand tucked tightly in the pocket of his padded jacket.
he's starting to overthink, the eerie silence and his wild imagination running in the dark as he ignores the weight that's started to settle in his chest. he feels as if someone's watching him, the hairs on the back of his neck standing at attention. he shakes his head.
for the most part, han loves being alone. he always more of an introvert, treasuring his alone time. he loves spending time by himself, getting to recharge and do things on his own without that icky feeling of being perceived by others.
he spends most of his hours alone.
he knows how it feels.
which is why he knows he's not alone right now.
in the dark of the woods where the trees are thicker, taller. he swallows the fear, chalking it up to his mind playing games on him. maybe there is such a thing as too much alone time.
"okay, i think thats enough for tonight." he announces into the darkness of the woods.
before he can turn around, a sharp ringing sound pierces his ears. its too loud, too high in pitch. han falls to his knees, flashlight falling onto the ground as his hands rush to cover the sides of his head, palms flat in an attempt to block out the high-pitched ringing.
he's never felt this sensation before, almost as if the soundwaves have entered his brain and proceed to jump all around. his head is pounding and he falls forward into the dirt, knees tucked into his chest in a fetal position.
he thinks hes going to die, truthfully. he faintly registers the fact that his hands have grown wet with what he can only assume is blood. its thick and warm and trickling in between the gaps of his fingers. he's beyond dizzy, eyes scrunching up in pain as he tries desperately to gather himself.
he has to get out of here.
there are tears coming out from his eyes at the pain, but through the thick blurry fog of his tears, he sees a beam of light coming down from the otherwise dark sky. the light blue light casts a shadow, the leaves of the trees dancing on the forest floor.
han thinks hes about to pass out. his skin is covered in goosebumps, and the sharp ringing in his ears have reduced to a dull hum. he blinks slowly, resting on his back as he accepts his fate.
he's dying and god is waiting to pick up his soul, casting a heavenly light down onto his poor, withered, totally dead body. he stares directly into the beam of light that hovers over him. a dark silhouette appears to come down to him, long flowing hair rustling in the wind, arms reaching out to him.
"are you... my guardian angel?" he chokes out once the shadow creeps closer, close enough for him to make out the features of the creature's face through half-lidded eyes.
"beautiful," he whispers, closing his eyes and awaiting the sweet kiss of death.
okay, maybe he was being a little dramatic.
he realizes this now when he jolts awake, leaves crunching under his body from the sudden movement. he's disoriented, rubbing away the sleep from his eyes as he takes in his surroundings.
he doesnt remember falling asleep in the middle of the woods. han's known for being able to fall asleep anywhere, but on the cold, hard, ground? out in the open? where animals could have feasted on him? thats just plain silly.
he sits up, and he's met with a sharp throbbing pain in his head. he lets out a grunt, eyes squeezed shut as he tries to collect himself. he looks around, his flashlight dead beside him. how the hell did he get out here?
he follows the trail back to his camp after walking down to the stream and splashing his face with the cold water, body aching and head still pounding. he considers wrapping this camping trip up and taking the rest of his leave from work in his cozy one bedroom apartment, safe from mosquitoes and ear-splitting ringing and lights from the heavens.
his tent looks normal enough once he finds the clearing, but the nearer he approaches, the more the hairs on his arms stand at attention. he's 100% sure he remembered to zip up the entrance to his tent. the entrance which is now wide open, the flap tucked neatly under a couple of stones.
he feels his heart drop to the pit of his stomach, throat closing up as the dread starts to settle deep in his chest. he swears he remembers locking up properly before going on a walk. he approaches his tent as quietly as he can, fingers clamped tight around the base of his flashlight, ready to swing it as hard as he can at whoever the hell has invaded his territory.
he peeks his head in, his mouth dropping at the sight.
it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.
suddenly, he recalls the events that happened right before he passed out. the loud ringing, the flash of light, his guardian angel.
who's standing inside of his tent. completely naked.
ohmygod, he did die. he's in heaven right now.
he drops his flashlight, mouth opening before he can rationally make a decision.
"hey! you'r-" he's cut off by the zap of electricity that comes once you lock eyes with him, a heat that spreads throughout his whole body and renders him speechless. and for the second time within twelve hours han jisung feels himself collapse on the ground before darkness takes over his vision.
the first thing he feels is the cold. and then the sharp stinging in his cheek. his eyes fly open, and he immediately feels the pain all over his body.
he has never felt this beaten up before.
and then he feels the sharpness on his wrists. he attempts to move one, before he realizes he's tied up. he sits up straighter now, pulling at the rope thats tied tightly against his wrists, binding him to the pole in the middle of his tent.
if he's in heaven, why the fuck does it hurt so much?
"⍙⊑⍜ ⏃⍀⟒ ⊬⍜⎍ ⏃⋏⎅ ⍙⊑⍜ ⎅⍜ ⊬⍜⎍ ⍙⍜⍀☍ ⎎⍜⍀?"
jisung turns towards the source of the weird gibberish to find you sitting calmly on the edge of his bed.
he should be scared. but you're far too beautiful for him to register any actual threat.
you look human enough, your skin could pass as one, no ridges or bumps or patterns or scales to suggest otherwise. but there's something off-putting about your face. your features are too symmetrical, bug-like eyes narrowed and sitting too close to one another. your ears are way too small, especially now as your hair steers clear from your face. its subtle, the way a person could glance at you and not be suspicious. but the longer jisung stares at you, the more his fears are confirmed.
you're not from around here.
"w-what?" jisung whimpers, as if you would be able to understand him.
the look you give him sends a shiver down his spine.
you rise to your full height, top of your head bumping against the roof of his tent. you're definitely taller than him. then his eyes fall to the rest of your body, which, he might add, is completely bare. your skin is smooth all the way down to your pelvis, an even tone except for the area above your pelvis which turns a little darker.
he should be alarmed by the fact that your body is different from that of an average woman, noting in awe at the smooth plane of skin where your belly button should be.
but all he can think about is the fact that he's got a hot... being... standing in the middle of his room.
"eng,,,english?" your voice is small when you ask, as if you're unsure yourself.
han only nods.
you make a sound, and han can only assume you're cursing by the way your brows furrow and your eyes shut in frustration.
"english... not so good." you mumble, scanning the room for something.
"i'd say its pretty good." han squeaks.
you stare at him blankly. you walk around his tent, stepping over his legs and picking up everything you see. he watches you examine the pots he used to make his dinner before setting them gently on the ground.
he cant believe he's letting this happen to him. he watches in horror as you dig through his bag, taking out all the clothes he's brought on the trip. you're quite literally prodding around his personal belongings, and he's watching you, letting you, with a chub in his pants.
is he sick?
in his defense, you're completely naked in front of him, bending over and exposing yourself to him. han's always been known to have... different sexual preferences. admittedly, hes a little bit of a freak. to put it quite bluntly, he's into that supernatural shit. he's not afraid to say it! he digs that tentacle shit. he briefly wonders whether or not you possess some kind of supernatural abilities. he's read all about them. aphrodisiac slick? tentacle's hidden in between your legs? oooo does your tongue-
you make a sound of surprise before picking up the book he'd abandoned last night, excitedly turning to him.
"⟟⌇ ⏁⊑⟟⌇ ⌇⍜⋔⟒ ☍⟟⋏⎅ ⍜⎎ ⌇⏃☊⍀⟒⎅ ⏁⟒⌖⏁?" you hold the book in your hand as you sink to your knees beside him.
"i-m sorry i dont understand," jisung whispers.
you huff in frustration. "what... you do... this?"
jisung tries to understand your broken english. "oh! you uhm.. you read?" he nods towards the book in your hands, moving his head back and forth to show you that you have to open the flap, turn to the next page.
you tilt your head in confusion. you start to mimic his movements, moving your head back and forth in the same motion. jisung has to bite his lip from laughing.
"look, i could help you but you tied me up, so..." jisung nods towards his restraints.
you study his face for a long moment. "you.... harm?"
jisung shakes his head so violently he can feel his brain moving. "no. no harm. promise."
you give him one last look from head to toe before slowly nodding. you inch closer to his chest, arms wrapping around him to reach for the painful knot that keeps him hostage. han lets out a sigh of relief once the tie loosens, shaking the ache away from his hands.
you continue to stare at him, slightly backing away as he reaches for the book on the ground.
"you read it. like this, see?" han opens up the book on the page he had dog-eared last night, gliding his finger across the page to highlight the words.
you make a weird rumble sound from deep in your chest, eagerly snatching the book away from him. your brows furrow as you attempt to read, slowly sounding out the letters under your breath. han watches you, eyes trailing from your wide eyes to the purse of your lips as you read. they fall to even more dangerous territory down to your chest, and the smooth skin of your stomach, to the space between your thighs.
"oh!" he squeaks, awkwardly clearing his throat after catching your attention. "you should put on some clothes. you can borrow some of mine, no titty- i erm, mean no biggy!" he stands then, walking over to the mess that is his duffel bag. he pulls out his worn out alien shirt (very fitting, he thinks) and a pair of sweatpants. you'll just have to do with no underwear for now. he takes his time in refolding all his clothes before dumping them in a wrinkled pile at the bottom of his bag.
"here, put these on." he offers you his clothes from where you sit cross-legged on the floor of his tent. you finally pull away from the book, and stare blankly from the fabric in his hands to his face.
a beat passes before han finally clears his throat. "you uh... put them on. like mine, see?" he gestures towards his shorts.
"why?" you ask.
oh dear.
"oh, well. people dont... respond well to seeing other people, or well in your case- a being's naked body." he explains, crouching down beside you.
you dog ear the page just like he did before closing it and setting it down on the floor.
"you.. you dont respond well?"
han swallows. "oh, well i mean, more of like the general public."
"so you... okay with me, naked body?"
his cheeks warm. "i mean, its not exactly a problem. you're pretty and interesting to look at with all due respect, but like- i dunno you might be a little... cold?"
you shake your head before placing your hand on his cheek. he jolts at the contact of your warm palm on his skin.
"oh. you run hot." he squeaks.
you nod.
how in the hell can he persuade you to just put on the damn clothes? not to be a perv or anything but he feels so icky shamelessly staring at your body, and you're none the wiser. he can feel himself half-hard, (a totally valid response, he would argue) but the guilt is eating at him. he doesnt want to take advantage of your naivety.
"but the clothes... they provide an.. extra layer of protection, you know" he winces at his lame response.
your eyes widen, reaching for the clothes in earnest. "armor?"
han bites his bottom lip and nods.
you look down at the fabric in your hands with awe before you stand up. you look down from the clothes back to han.
han mentally slaps himself. "oh, right. er- lemme help you."
han crouches down, holding the sweatpants out for you. he gently guides your legs to where they need to go, slipping the pants up your thighs and settling them on your waist. his fingers brush against where your belly button should be as he ties the strands tighter, to ensure the fabric wouldnt fall down.
"there yo-" to say han was blindsided by the heavy hand that smacks across the side of his face is an understatement. your whole palm lands against his cheek. his jaw drops in shock as he looks up at you.
"⍙⊑⏃⏁ ⏁⊑⟒ ⎎⎍☊☍? ⊑⍜⍙ ⎅⏃⍀⟒ ⊬⍜⎍ ⏁⍜⎍☊⊑ ⋔⟒ ⏁⊑⟒⍀⟒!" you yell, clutching at the hem of his sweatpants and taking a step away from him, as if wounded.
"i- what?? what happened i-"
"⎅⍜⋏⏁ ⏁⍀⊬ ⏁⍜ ⎅⟒⋏⊬ ⟟⏁! ⊬⍜⎍ ⏁⍜⎍☊⊑⟒⎅ ⋔⟒ ⏁⊑⟒⍀⟒, ⊬⍜⎍ ⌿⟒⍀⎐⟒⍀⏁!" you continue to rant, pointing a finger at him accusingly.
"okay, okay... lets calm down- just- tell me what i did? what happened? did i hurt you?" han holds his hands up in surrender as he slowly approaches you.
you take a deep breath and stare him down. "dont.. no touch." your voice is hard.
"okay, okay. im sorry." jisung coos.
"that... p-part! no." your voice wavers slightly.
"i hear you. i understand. im sorry, okay?" his voice is gentle as he takes another cautious step towards you.
you let out a deep sigh and nod. "i- i sorry too. i hurt you."
"oh, no its fine." han bites his tongue in an attempt to hold back the tears in his eyes.
he approaches you once more, this time with the shirt bunched up to place it on your head easier. you gasp at the sensation and han chuckles.
he wonders how he would react if he were in your shoes, in an unfamiliar planet with a man you can hardly understand, as he pokes and prods at you.
how did you even get here in the first place? he decides he'll save his questions for when you're a little more comfortable with him.
he gently wraps his hand around your wrists and guides them into the shirt before he reaches around to untuck your hair from the fabric, letting it sweep down your back.
"there! now you.. kinda look like me." he laughs.
you stare at him. "ha. ha. ha. what that mean?" you ask.
"oh, when something is like.. funny? if you like something you kinda.. laugh." he struggles to explain.
"oh. ha. ha. ha."
han cant help the giggle that escapes him. "oh by the way. whats your name?"
"name?"
"well i mean... me, han jisung." he points towards himself, poking his chest for emphasis. he turns his pointer fingers towards you before gently poking your chest.
you make a sound of understanding before you tell him yours.
"oh. y/n. thats pretty," he compliments.
you make a sound akin to a purr, rumbling deep in your chest. "i- i read. you book. okay?" you point.
"oh, alright!" han bends down to pick it up before he hands it to you. "its starting to get dark. i'm gonna start a fire okay? i erm- i leave for a bit. you stay."
you only nod before sinking to the ground, folding your legs under you as you lean against the supporting pole of the tent. "i stay." you reassure him. its not like you could go anywhere else anyway.
you watch as han gives you one last smile before he steps out into the dusk, zipping up his tent behind him.
you like han, you decide. you were exiled onto this planet for.. a crime you had no choice but to commit. you understand the gravity of the Supremes' punishment now, throwing you down into a disgusting, vile planet such as Earth.
why couldnt they have dropped you off at Sebion? at least you'd be the most intelligent sentient being. sure, the siens were a little annoying, constantly screeching at the mark of every hour. but that, you could live with. humans? a totally different story.
you remember the lessons they taught about humans, the most selfish, vile creature to exist in the universe. they look a little different from what you've been taught, though. they're supposed to have sharp teeth and long nails. the scariest part about them? they lie. imagine that! the thought sends a shudder down your spine. you know all about the evil that is the human race. possessed by horrors like greed, selfishness, and hatred.
they're the creatures that scared you the most. you could deal with the merqrai on vikunus. they had a weakness, a soft spot on the top of their head you could whack and render them unconscious. but humans? just about the only sentient being in the entire universe capable of betrayal. they are inherently evil, your tutors said.
you think back to how you had zapped han jisung, how his body folded like cloth into a heap on the floor. was electricity their weakness? something about han jisung makes you believe he's different, though. he's certainly not as ugly as the humans they showed you in class. he's almost a little pretty, with round eyes and chubby cheeks.
you'd like to think he wouldn't lie like the other humans, too.
by the time han jisung returns to his tent, you've finished reading the interesting novel cover to cover. admittedly, you skipped all the boring parts and instead focused on the dialogue. you wanted to impress han with your new english.
"hello." you chirp cheerily as soon as han jisung enters, removing his gloves and settling closer to the radiator in the middle of the space.
"oh! hi." jisung blushes, reaching his hands out to the heat.
"you are cold?" you coo, moving a little closer to sit beside him.
han just giggles. "yea, a little. it's around winter now so its getting chilly. i think its gonna snow tomorrow."
"winter? the cold time?" you vaguely remember your tutor telling you all about the seasons on Earth.
thank god you picked up those extra lessons on Earth.
"yea! does it snow where you're from? han is seated more comfortably now, legs stretched in front of him.
"snow? the... uh... from the sky? falling, yes?"
"yea! the little white things that fall from the sky."
"oh... no snow at home. just uhm what you call it... rain?"
han beams at you. "you said your english was bad, but i think you're doing perfectly fine. pretty good for someone not around here, actually."
you cant help the smile that creeps on your face. a silence falls over the both of you after, with han staring deeply into the emptiness of his tent. you look at him now, really look at him while he's distracted.
his eyes really are pretty, glowing here in the dark and shining a little thanks to the reflection of the fire lit in his tiny lamp. you inch a little closer to him now, slowly just until your thighs press against the side of his.
"erm- what are you doing?" han instantly pulls away.
"cold? i warm you." you offer, bringing your knees to your chest in an attempt to make yourself small. you figure maybe he's a little apprehensive to be too close to you. you did happen to zap him earlier.
han lets out a sigh and crawls back to his seat next to you, the side of his body pressed firmly against yours.
"damn, you're really hot." he chuckles before inhaling sharply at the double meaning. he doubts you'd understand.
"i know. you shake." you coo, draping one arm over his shoulders and pulling him to you a little more firmly.
han stiffens at your side, head awkwardly pressed against the side of your chest. he can faintly hear the rhythm of your heartbeat and his eyes widen.
"whoa, thats so cool!" han exclaims, pulling away from you.
you tilt your head in confusion as han gently cups the back of your neck to pull your ear against his own chest. you gasp at the sound.
"so slow!" you yell, looking up at him in awe.
"and yours is so fast." han chuckles, resting his head against your chest once more.
you let him wrap himself around you, the weight of today falling on han's shoulders as he subconsciously slips into a state of sleep. you watch as his blinking slows, until his lids flutter into a final close. his breathing evens then, warm air tickling the side of your chest with his every exhale. a deep rumble starts within your chest, a vibration that spreads throughout your whole body until the tips of your fingers. you reach up to delicately stroke his hair away from his face, his smooth skin and sharp nose drawing your attention.
"so pretty," you mumble, your own eyes fluttering shut to the sound of han's heavy breathing.
when jisung wakes, he's cold and shirtless. he sits up abruptly, throwing the weighted blanket off his upper body and scrambling for his slides. its far too early for his heart to be beating this fast, but panic settles in his chest when he registered your absence.
"y/n?" he croaks, hastily unzipping the flap to his tent and all but throwing himself outside.
"morning!" you cheer, hair wet and dripping onto what was han's shirt from yesterday, now damp and hanging awkwardly on your frame, as you'd shoved an arm and your head into one hole, stretching the fabric around you. in one hand, you hold a sharp, pointed stick. impaled on it are several colorful fish, flopping in an attempt to escape their inevitable death.
on the other hand, your clothes from last night.
"oh." jisung exhales, hands coming up to clutch at his chest.
"i.. i catch these!" you beam, extending the stick to him.
jisung can't help but giggle a little. "yes. i see that. thank you. my errr- my shirt?"
you look down as if just remembering that you'd stolen his shirt from him in his sleep.
"oh! i... i walk to the water to clean me, i see in the water this," you shrug to the fish, "but then i cant reach! so i go in and catch them. but i get wet. so i take off. but then i see people and i remember what u say to me. 'general public dont want naked body.'" you finish seriously, voice lowered in an attempt to mimick han's.
han's heart drops at the mention of other people.
"you.. you saw someone? where?"
you turn and point to a clearing not far from the other edge of the river.
"a man. like you!" you cry excitedly. "can we meet?"
"no." han's voice is firm as he wraps his hand around your arm, pulling you to the tent. "lets cook that fish for lunch. maybe we should go back to the city." he thinks aloud to himself. not a lot of people know about this campsite, somewhat of a private haven shared between his friends. minho's father used to take them camping here, and the only other people who know of this site are minho's close friends. he's a little worried to run into someone he knows right now with you here with him. not that he wants to hide you or anything...
"the city!" you screech, plopping yourself down on the floor. "i want to see! i hear about the... the things you move in? the big.." you proceed to gesture wildly, hands reaching out to grip onto something and steering left and right.
"yes, a car?" han offers, turning the burner on as he watches you with fondness.
"ohhh yes! i want car." you sigh dreamily.
han approaches you as he lets the food cook, snorting to himself as he reaches out to fix your shirt. gently, he raises the collar and removes your arm, shooting it in the right hole.
"there. you're like a big baby."
"your baby! ha ha ha ha." you joke, looking to han for validation.
instead, his cheeks redden and he shrugs. "i guess, yea?" he turns away from you as he reaches into his duffel for a shirt of his own.
a couple of beats of silence pass before you turn to han. "do you have mate?"
han chokes on his own saliva, doubling over in pain as he slaps his own chest.
"i- what?"
honestly, you have no idea what possessed you to ask that question. you suppose its the curiosity in you. but another part of you is less naive. you know whats happening with han. after last night, the way you fell asleep in his arms with his heartbeat in your ear. he's sweet to you, kind and patient. you wonder if humans do these things to each other regularly, or if, like your kind, such special moments are reserved for special people. you sincerely hope its the latter.
"i just... wonder. like elizabeth and mister darcy." you mumble.
han chuckles at that. "oh. right, then. no. i dont have a mate. do you?"
you blush. you didnt expect him to ask you the same question. you firgure you're fine with opening up to han.
"i did."
han's eyes widen as his whole body turns to you in bewilderment.
"what?" he squeaks.
you give him a small smile filled with nothing but sadness. "not now. i did have but now no." you clarify, shrugging.
"aren't mates for life or something? what do you mean you dont have one now?"
you stare at him blankly. han suddenly feels as if he's overstepped. "i'm sorry, i didnt mean to-"
"mate is a bad man." you sigh, gaze dropping to the floor.
han swallows, staying silent in fear that making a sound would somehow change your mind about sharing something so personal with him.
you stare at him thoughtfully for a minute before you continue. "he was forced mate. for me. i dont choose," you explain, brows furrowing. "he want me but i dont want him."
"why?" han cant stop himself from asking.
you make a face, and han laughs. "ugly?"
"very."
"so what happened?"
you shrug. "he try to mate me. i say no. he say yes! i hurt him. he send me down here."
"thats horrible." han shivers, pouting at you.
"yes. worst punishment. earth." you sigh, shaking your head.
"hey, its not that bad." han bumps you with his shoulder, trying desperately to lighten the somewhat heavy mood.
"yes. not bad." you say genuinely, holding his gaze.
han coughs awkwardly and smiles sheepishly at you before he stands abruptly. "you should come to the city with me. you can stay at my place for a while and get used to things and then maybe... i dunno. we'll see. how does that sound?"
you simply stare up at him with a blank expression on your face.
han swallows before starting once more, "we go to the city. my house. you stay and then.... you leave. when you want."
"oh yes!" you yell excitedly, "in the.. uhm car?" you're eager.
"yea... its kind of a long ride though, you'll probably grow bored."
han could not be more wrong. from helping him pack up his tent to bringing his stuff to his car, to squeezing everything into the backseat, to settling down in the passenger seat- you're absolutely buzzing. if you were locked in a room, han's sure you'd be bouncing off the walls.
"what is that?" you point out to the green fields just outside your window.
"thats a cow," han answers your umpteenth question of the day.
"and that?"
"another cow."
"that?"
"still a cow."
"and this?" you finally turn your attention to the things inside the car. your finger glides across the top of the stereo, fiddling with the buttons and twisting the knobs.
"thats the radio. it plays music, see?" han turns the radio on to a random station, a song he recognizes by gorillaz playing softly.
you stare in awe. "whats that language?"
"music," han hums along, turning the volume up.
"when you're close to me~ dun dun, dun dun dun dun dun, dun dun," han's thumbs drum along to the beat on his steering wheel.
"i like that. ha ha ha," you offer thoughtfully, trying (and failing) to match the way han bobs his head along to the music.
"yea? thats good. we have something in common."
by the time han pulls into the parking right under his unit, you've somewhat calmed down. admittedly, he swears he didnt mean to, but his mind wandered to the man you crossed paths with in the woods. what if he saw how... different you looked? he imagines you thrashing wildly in the river, catching fish with your bare hands. he worries his bottom lip until he can feel a little bit of blood. what if he told someone? what if someone comes to take you away from him?
not that han feels like he owns you in any way, but he cant explain the feeling of responsibility he has over you. he tries to tell himself its silly. you've known each other for 2 days! and yet when han watches you stare out the window in awe, he feels his heart beat erratically in his chest and his cock twitch in interest. do you even feel that way for him?
you on the other hand, are completely confused. han starts to get quieter and quieter the nearer you get to his home. you start to wonder if he's suddenly regretting bringing you here. he starts to zone out, completely ignoring your questions. you figure maybe he's grown tired of your yapping, constantly asking him questions. instead, you busy yourself with staring out the window.
honestly, you can find some similarities between his planet and yours. the tall buildings that seem to tower over everyone, the way people seem to walk with purpose, a destination in mind. there are many different creatures on this planet, some that walk on all fours and are significantly smaller than humans. han tells you they are called "animals" and that there are lots of different kinds. han tells you he has one in his apartment. a "dog" he calls bbama.
"just... stay right behind me, alright?" han says anxiously, keys tight in his hand.
you're starting to get a little nervous yourself. clutching tightly on to the straps of his bag.
han exhales as he pushes open his front door. "bbama baby? daddy's home!"
the little puppy bounds excitedly for the door, barking and yipping at his feet. han coos down at him, gently settling his bags down by the door and moving in to allow you some space to enter.
"we have a visitor, bbam! say hi." han scoops his little baby up to his chest and holds him out to smell you.
you stay frozen in fear, the furry creature sniffing at you wildly before his tongue darts out to lick at your hand.
"HE GOT ME. HE GOT ME." you start to sob, backing into the farthest corner and clutching at your hand as if in pain. bbama is taken aback by your loudness and starts barking, tail wagging as if to say he enjoys this game.
"its okay, its okay! he likes you!" han reassures you, biting down on his tongue to keep from laughing.
"he.. he attack me! with his mouth!" you accuse, waving your fingers in his face.
"noooo, he kissed you! its a way to show you like someone, see?" han lifts bbama up to his face, who immediately starts licking his cheek enthusiastically.
you watch, still a little apprehensive. you lower your hands, scooting a little closer to the furry ball in han's arms.
"he... he's so small." you note, tilting your head to scan bbama's whole figure.
"yea, hes just a baby. he's totally harmless." han coos, setting bbama down on the floor. the dog immediately runs to your legs, jumping up and down.
you only stare at him. "what is.... his purpose. like why?"
han is a little taken aback by your question. "for friendship?" he offers.
you seem satisfy with his answer, carefully stepping over the dog as it continues to nip at your pants, weaving in and out from between your legs as you walk around han's apartment. its nice and cozy, bright with lots of windows to let in light. his living room is cute, a long couch and a tv, a funky rug in the middle.
han watches you look around, rocking back and forth on his heels as he takes a deep breath. "uhm.. so this is where i live." he says weakly.
you nod. "its nice." you hum, running your fingers along the countertop in his kitchen. you continue to look around until your gaze lands on him, fixed on the way he seems to wait for your approval.
"okay. well, uhm. you can sleep in my room and ill take the couch."
you tilt your head. "why apart?"
han swallows. "well.. i mean- its just.. not right..." your heart sinks a little. not right?
"i want near you. like in your tent." you refer to the night han slept in your arms.
"no! that.. that cant happen again. you sleep in my room. i sleep here." han's voice is final. he cant allow himself near you, guilt suddenly eating at the way his body reacts to you. he knows he cant help but be attracted to you. its just the fact that you're so naive, so clueless to the way he yearns to touch you. he feels like a total perv.
your brows furrow in confusion. you thought maybe you were past this weird awkwardness with han. he seems to prove you wrong now, eyes darting nervously across the room and to the floor, as if mapping out a way for him to get out of this conversation.
"you dont want me?" you ask sternly.
"what? no! i dont-"
han is interrupted by the sound of keys jingling by his door. his heart drops when he remembers he's home two days early. he'd asked minho to house sit for him.
"oh. you're back?" minho opens the front door before han can successfully close the door stopper, making him look like a fool as he lunges awkwardly forward and quickly stopping himself.
"oh- yea i dont feel well." he forces out a weak cough.
"riiiiight. okay who's this?' minho nods to you, who appears from the kitchen at the sound of another voice.
you gasp. "another human!" you quickly approach the pair, ignoring han's quick head shakes of no.
"err.. yea?" minho raises an eyebrow before turning to his friend. "seriously who is this?"
"no one! just some random i said id give a ride home aha haha," han sweats.
no one? you are no one now? you give han a stern look before you lock eyes with the stranger.
"i am y/n."
"cool. i am minho. where you from?"
"im from zemenia!"
"oh... cool. exotic."
"thats enough getting to know each other! bye bye now." han quickly pushes minho forcefully by the chest, nudging him until his whole body is out in the hall.
"you still have to pay me for the 2 days, alright?" minho says.
"whatever, fuck off. bye!" han throws himself against the door dramatically, huffing and running a hand through his hair.
"that was close," he chuckles, turning to you.
your face does not match the wide smile he so proudly wears. your face is twisted in a scowl, arms crossed in front of you.
"what?" han squeaks.
"why? why do you hide me?" you storm away, plopping yourself on han's couch.
"what are you talking about?" han whines, chasing after you. "what if minho found out about where you're from? who you are? what you are?"
he spits the words out as if disgusted. could that be it? han is disgusted by who you are? what you are?
"ah, so you are ashamed." you're quick to argue.
han cant believe his ears. where is this coming from? he falls to his knees in front of you. "what? no! im not ashamed of you."
"then why do you hide me? you are so confusing. you hold me and say things to me and i like that feeling. but then you act weird. and say you dont want to stay near me. and you hide me from other humans! and then you almost kill me with your bbama!" you're throwing your hands in the air, clearly agitated.
han's frowning. he knows you must feel confused, overwhelmed. but he's also smiling at the back of his head. "y/n-"
"i... i dont know! these feelings. inside.. i dont- i dont feel these things at home. i- this is all so different! and you're confusing me." you groan, kicking your legs up to the couch and hugging them to your chest.
han sighs. "no.. you got it all wrong. let me explain, okay?"
"⏃⌇⌇⊑⍜⌰⟒" you bite back.
"hey. i dont like the sound of that." han whimpers.
you only roll your eyes.
han sits up with a sigh, crawling slowly next to you. he grabs you by the knees and forces you to turn your body towards him. his fingers rest there, gently caressing the skin there.
"look, i am not. ashamed of you. at all. i think you're the coolest thing to ever happen to me! which is why... im scared." han sighs.
you look up at him, fearful. "you scare of me?"
"no! i just- im scared that... someone's gonna take you away from me as fast as i got you, you know?"
you nod, timid.
"and im.. a little overwhelmed. that feeling you feel? with all the... feelings in you? and you're all confused, right? thats how i feel too! like... its kinda weird because we've known each other for such a short amount of time but.. i just feel... i feel something for you." han finishes off quietly, gaguing your reaction.
you only stare back.
okay, lets try again. "i.. im like mr darcy. and you're elizabeth. except i havent read the book so i dont know if they end up together... do they?"
"they are together."
"yea, so like.. i like you. but i feel bad."
"but why?" you whisper.
"because... i feel like im taking advantage of you... i feel like. you only know me. i feel like im trapping you. and i feel like its going too fast." han rushes everything out, like he's rapping.
you blink at him. "are humans... slow?"
han lets out a chuckle. "well, much slower than this." he gestures between the two of you.
"but. you like me. i like you. what is the problem?" you say, like its the easiest thing on earth.
han is caught off guard by how sincerely you look at him. maybe it could be the easiest thing on earth. maybe he's too in his head about everything.
you reach out to hold his hand, breaking him out of his trance. "no problem, yes?"
he huffs. "no problem."
han spends the rest of the afternoon making it up to you. he cooks you some food without setting his kitchen on fire, which, in his books, counts as a miracle. he watches as your eyes light up with every spoonful, the flavors exploding in your mouth. he holds your hand in understanding as he tells you how everything back at home tasted the same. he makes a promise to feed you everything ever.
he lets you watch everything your heart desires, heart hammering in his chest as you watch his favorites with the same enthusiasm as him. he answers all your questions with patience, never once making you feel like a burden. you appreciate that.
and later, after youve both showered (he insisted on doing this separately lest he get a heart attack), he dresses you up in his comfiest clothes and settles you on the bed next to him. you watch him in anticipation. he swallows, turning to shut the lights off.
"hannie," you coo, reaching for his hand.
"yes?" he tries to be nonchalant.
"you dont want to touch me?"
he fails.
"i- i dont know..."
"we do that at home too, you know?' you tease him.
his heart falls just a little. "oh. youve done it?"
you shake your head, no. "mate for life. remember?"
han swallows. "r-right."
"you shake. you scared?" you try your best to calm him down, sitting up beside him.
"well, i- just never done it, too." he mumbles.
"good. we learn together."
you're a fast learner, apparently. han showed you how to kiss, gentle and slow. yet you're here on top of him, arms wrapped around his neck as you kiss him incessantly. he can do nothing but take it, desperate hands clutching at your sides in an attempt to ground himself.
its so wet and sloppy, your saliva mixing with his and creating a puddle that leaks out the corner of his mouth in drool. it makes him dizzy, the way your tongue pushes against his.
"i- wait, lets slow down." he manages to squeak before you devour his mouth once more.
"you humans and your slow." you hum, pulling away just slightly to allow han some space to breathe.
he looks so pretty like this, eyes glazed over and cheeks rosy. his glasses are askew, lips shiny with spit. you lean over to lick at his cheek, the way he told you those who like each other do.
"there. you feel that i like you, right?"
han thinks its lethal, the way you do things that are just so dirty, and you're so unaware. he's never been this hard, and all you've done is just kiss him a little.
"y-yes. i like you too." han coos, hand resting at your nape and applying pressure to push your face closer to his, lips finding yours once more.
"i feel like i like you more." you pout at him.
han shakes his head. "no way," his voice is so much thicker, so much deeper as he leans forward to press his lips against yours.
you deny him a third time. "hannie, show me you like me." you whisper.
he blinks up at you stupidly. "h-how?"
you reach for his hands and drag them to the hem of your shirt. he understands, quickly undressing you and throwing the fabric to the opposite corner of his room.
"you're so beautiful." he gasps in awe, chin resting against your chest as he looks up at you.
"you can touch me. its okay." you reassure him, dragging his fingers along your bare torso. he relishes in the feeling of your warm skin against his, tips of his fingers gliding along inches upon inches of your skin, up and down your sides and across the front of your stomach. you hum, fingers tangling in his hair as you watch him explore you.
"want you to take off, too." you sigh, pulling at his shirt. he complies with no protest. hes back to kissing you the instant his shirt is off, hands coming up to cup your cheeks and pull you infinitely closer to him. he licks into your mouth eagerly, taking every drop of spit in your mouth as if its meant for him. you allow him to, letting out little sounds and squeaks.
"need you to ride me, please? will you ride me, baby?" han whimpers against your lips, hands groping at your chest.
"show me how," you're breathless when you pull away, leaving enough space for han to shimmy his pants off your hips. he groans at the sight of your thighs, plush and ready to be marked. you're eager for him, spreading your legs to show the slit in between your thighs.
he watches in awe as you dip two fingers into your hole, scissoring the digits until you feel you've loosened yourself up enough.
"you, please. off." you mumble.
han obeys instantly, rushing to push his jeans down his thighs, shaking the fabric off until it sits at his ankles. you blink once you take in the size of his cock, hard and aching for you.
han suddenly grows shy, hands cupping his cock as his ears grow red. "whats wrong? is it.. is it okay?"
"its... big. not as big at home." you exhale shakily.
his dick twitches. you think he's big?
"its okay, let me eat you out, itll feel better when its wet." he promises, pulling you to sit on his face.
you back away in panic. "you eat me?" you ask in shock.
han laughs, breathless. "no baby, not literally! just... let me show you, okay? trust me?" he hums, stroking your thighs gently.
"o-okay." you relax in his hold, allow him to maneuver you until your core sits right at his open mouth.
"relax, baby, i got you." han coos, before he lets his tongue out to scoop the liquid in between your thighs.
the taste immediately goes straight to his head, making him dizzy and hot. he lets out a low groan. now, han is a munch. he loves eating pussy. all kinds of pussy, truthfully! he's not one to discriminate. he thinks every pussy is unique and none of them should be compared to one another.
yours though? oh he means it deep in his balls when he says its the best. the taste is different, genuinely sweet like honey as it trickles down his throat. he swallows up everything you have to offer to him, growing deaf to the way you moan pitifully above him, ignoring the painful sting that your fingers bring when you pull at his hair.
"hannie! thats.. good! i- i ⍜⊑ ⋔⊬ ⎎⎍☊☍ ⏁⊑⏃⏁⌇ ⌇⍜ ☌⍜⍜⎅!" han chuckles against your mound, sticking his tongue as deep into you as he can. he thinks he's tripping now, lightheaded as his blood rushes south. suddenly everything's so sensitive, his senses heightened. every time your fingertips brush against his face he jolts a little, the sweat on his back suddenly too wet, too much for him to bare.
you fall apart on his tongue with a cry and han hums in triumph, swallowing the nectar you gift him. you shake on top of him and han drags you down to his lap, sitting up to wrap his arms around you.
"good?" he asks, cocky.
"yes," you sob, eager to kiss him as thanks. he accepts gratefully, tongue swirling with yours as he situates you on top of his aching cock.
"can i put it in, baby? please. please let me fuck you, y/n." he begs, pathetic.
you hum, your forehead resting against his. "you have to ask some more. thats how it is."
han whimpers. you're making him beg for it? how cruel. "please, baby. i'm literally so hard right now, it hurts so bad. never been this hard. need to put it in your pussy so bad,"
"hurts?" you coo condescendingly, wrapping your slender fingers around his cock.
han can only whimper as you tug on his dick. "please,"
you give in to him then, "put it in, then."
he scrambles to wrap his hand around his base, rubbing the tip along your slit to catch the wetness there before he presses in. you bite your bottom lip, the stretch getting to you.
"im sorry baby, does it hurt? i bet it hurts so bad." he hates that he's hurting you, but he cant deny the way he throbs harder at the face you make, eyes squeezed shut and mouth gaping open. he pulls you closer, shoving his tongue into your mouth in an attempt to distract you from the pain.
you sloppily kiss him as he sets you deeper onto his cock, your thighs shaking from the effort. you let out a gasp once you take him to the base, feeling so full.
"oh my holy fuck," han gasps, bringing his fist to his mouth and biting down on his knuckles in an attempt to holding off his orgasm.
he's just started, and he can already feeling it end.
what kind of alien pussy magic is this?
"oh!" you exhale, hands gripping tightly onto han's shoulders. "its.. a lot," you're speechless.
"it feels so good," han whines, arms wrapping tightly around your waist.
you start to move then, rocking your hips back and forth, driving han absolutely crazy.
"fuck, yes. take my cock baby. its yours now." he babbles.
"mine?" you coo, nuzzling into his cheek.
"you can have my whole house. take everything i own. just dont stop moving your hips like that, please." his mouth is filthy, and you only smile.
"like this?" han whines when you speed up, fingers scratching the skin on your back.
"im so sorry baby i think im gonna cum." han pouts as he looks up at you, looking genuinely sorry. "i cant hold it."
he's not usually this sensitive, but something in the way your pussy hugs him just right has him losing his goddamn mind.
"its okay, hannie. i like you so much." you coo, holding him close. he shoves his face in between your breasts as you ride him for everything he has, cumming wildly with a shout. he spills inside you, eyes squeezing shut as tears threaten to spill down his cheeks.
mygod. its good enough to make a man cry.
you hold him gently, soothing him with scratches down his back. its a long while before han pulls away from you, sweaty and red in the face.
"ill do better next time, promise." he pouts at you.
"ha ha ha. we have all the time. promise." you coo back, wiping away the strands that litter across his forehead.
"thats true. you're not going anywhere anymore." he pulls out of you and swiftly tackles you to the bed, a squeak slipping past your lips as han holds you down against the bed, his sweaty body pressing against yours. he brings his ear up to rest against your chest, the quick boom boom lulling him to sleep. you watch with fondness as han starts to snore, your fingers gently rubbing up and down his back.
how ironic for you to find home a million miles away from where it was once. he thinks its a little out of the ordinary, this love you two will share. who cares though, really?
han's got his fantasy alien baddie girlfriend.
taglist: @seungfl0wer @minniesverse @ayyonoona @prettydumbandcrying @kierraperkins3 @simp-council @nvrhis @maisyyyyyy @seunmong-in @hyunjinismypookie @doitforbangchan @fairypluto @rundontwalkshesaid @linosssss @birdcagebody @jutdwae-flower @satosugu4l @lovelymindescape @miraitstan @myjilix @softkisshyunjin @paborachaslvt
: @lac3ybow @jellyleggz @b-r-stark @wildtokay @kay-bear200 @rizzrosesworld @feetoffthemalfoy @yzsqu 😋 @frilledjellyfishh @stunna-girl69 @ravenziggy @loveuwoo @stellasays45 @jaiuneamesolitaiire @frequentlykit @k-drizzle @bookswillfindyouaway @hoeforsungie @mjdragonzz @min-doesnt-know @iikxstcenn @boi-bi-ahaha @janedewitt @seodwaekii @hyunjinnnniemylove @kpopjackie @blendingcaramal @charlieg1rl @y-ur--i
i hope u all got tagged omg thank u i love u all pls lmk if i missed ur tag!!
hey i really really love your fics and the way you write youre so talented! ive been searching for a virgin!yuji x virgin!reader for so long and my life would literally be urs if you wrote this. if not no worries, i totally get it.
sending love! - anon
OH THIS IDEA IS HOOOOTTTTT AND U BEST BELIEVE IM ALL OVER IT!! thank you for your sweet words and for sending in a request!! i hope you like it!! :] <333
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oh my god, pretty!
{yuji itadori x f!reader}
summary: your relationship with yuji was semi new and cute, you both absolutely adoring the fuck out of one another since the moment you met. one thing you have in common though? you’re both loser virgins with absolutely no experience whatsoever, and on one night where you’re both innocently cuddling on the couch watching a movie— yuji goes NUTS.
warnings: MDNI. college!au, afab!reader, SMUT, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it ya’ll), accidental creampie LOL, yuji is a little perv, smut with barely any plot she goes straight to the good stuff, cursing, pet names, fluff, FILTHYYYY this is filthy, all characters are aged up.
word count: 3.9k
authors note: PHEEWWWW THIS ONE HAD ME MEOWING LIKE A KITTY CAT AND I HOPE YALL MEOW WITH ME!!! thank you for your support always, that is an absolute given, i love you and i love you forever. MWAAAHHHH <3333
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“are you okay baby?”
no you were not.
because yuji was in a black tight compression tee and pj’s while you both were watching a movie together and cuddling on your living room couch, the sleeves of his shirt accentuating his biceps and the rest of it squeezing over his pecs and torso, the brightness of your tv illuminating all of his sharp handsome features that had you gnawing at your nails in a nervous fit— him looking at you with pinched eyebrows.
yuji and you had just started dating a couple of months ago— his lively overly friendly personality winning you over without really much effort at all, and your genuine sweet one catching his heart the minute he saw you come into one of his lectures last year, looking soul killingly beautiful and radiant, the both of you befriending each other quickly as your interests aligned.
and you started hanging out on and off campus a lot more frequently after that— gradually falling more and more in love until yuji finally gathered up his jumpy nerves and asked you to be his girlfriend.
there was a problem though.
neither of you had had sex before, or had done anything in between the lines with other people before you got together.
it was the first thing that yuji worried about when he first started dating you— embarrassed and afraid that you would think he was a big fat loser with no game and that he would potentially run the risk of losing you, you maybe preferring a man of experience to match your own needs.
but when he admitted that to you, and when you shook your worried little head and told him you were in the same exact boat as him, he was fucking elated— his apprehensions crumbling down like a landslide and replaced instead with the giddiness of getting to do stuff with you for the first time ever, and him being the man (the only man ever he hoped) to get to do it to you.
but then there was another problem.
neither of you seemed to want to start anything, the both of you hesitant and scared because of your lack of experience— petrified of humiliating yourselves if one of you tried and pathetically failed at it or did something incorrectly.
“mhm! fine.” you smiled sweetly, your calm voice a completely different contrast to what was currently happening inside your reeling fuzzy brain.
you had both definitely talked about it, the subject of intimacy. but it was always something that the two of you reassured each other would happen eventually when you were both ready, that there was no rush— choosing to brush the subject off like it was nothing.
except it wasn’t nothing. it was never nothing. and you were both way past fucking ready, especially yuji, him practically ripping apart at the seams with horn dog need anytime he saw you wear those little skirts that you like so much, or whenever you’d straddle his lap during one of your daily makeout sessions— his hands literally trembling over your ass in attempts at being respectful of pretty ol’ you, settling for placing them on your upper back instead.
and you would internally pout, disappointed, because you always without fail noticed all of this yet you were too shy to mention anything or do something about it on your own.
“you sure?” he asked softly. “you look like you’re thinking about something.”
he raised a hand and gently poked your cheek repeatedly with his index finger, a silly smile on his face. “tell me baby tell me baby tell me baby—”
you giggled, “i’m okay! just zoned out.” you pushed his finger away, leaning up and pressing a quick shy kiss to his cheek that made him instantly flush pink in return, a wobbly smile spreading across his face.
in the midst of you retreating back to your previous position, yuji caught your chin with his fingers and turned you to look at him, your cheeks blushing as he stared at you with lovesick dreamy eyes.
“can we— um.” his gaze flickered to your lips. “can we make out.”
your eyes widened slightly and your hands grew clammy fast, cheeks buzzing as you stared back at him.
since making out was the only thing you both properly conquered, it happened almost every single time you saw each other, the act practically filling in and making up for the more lewd exchanges you both were missing out on, your kisses always sloppy and messy but heated— though each time it came around to it you were often just as nervous as the first time.
“s—sure!” you stammered. “you don’t have to ask me yuji… you can just— y’know… do it..”
he bit his tongue, your timidness for some fucking reason sending a shock of arousal through his veins and straight down to his dick as he tried his best to swallow it and not make it obvious for you.
“okay!”
he brought your face closer then and kissed you, a solid one at first, until you slowly parted your lips and ushered him in, deeper, your body moving closer to his on its own as he immediately responded with placing a hand on your leg to throw it over his lap, your mouths wet and slippery as he properly settled you to sit on him.
you wrapped your arms around his neck, the movie drowned out completely in the background as a sequence of lip smackings echoed throughout the room, yuji’s hands on your upper back like always as you continued to make out… until you felt a little stinging cramp in your knee— moving your hips a little bit to readjust, utterly unaware of how you accidentally applied pressure over yuji’s crotch as he sucked in a breath through his nose and pulled away.
“fuck don’t do that baby don’t do that.”
you froze, hands quickly retracting back to your chest. “what? what do what?”
“oh—” he froze, eyes wide and cheeks pink as his mouth opened and closed like a fishy out of water.
he couldn’t possibly tell you why, not wanting to scare you away by admitting that you grinding down on his crotch like that made his dick jerk and mind haze in the most filthy and perverted way imaginable, feeling like he wanted to dig himself a big fat grave of horny shame to throw himself into as he watched your pretty eyes look at him the way that they were, wanting that same look but underneath him instead—
your bent knee cramped up once more and you hissed, moving your hips again except this time harder, yuji’s eyes flying open as the grip around your upper torso tightened, a strangled whiny hum escaping his throat.
your eyes snapped to his at the sound, now feeling something hard poking your clothed pussy as your brain finally put fucking two and two together, your hand slapping over your mouth in embarrassment at what you did and over your stupid delayed realization.
“oh! yuji i’m so sorry i— i didn’t realize—”
he shook his head rapidly, his cheeks and ears red as he shakily smoothed his hands over your hips comfortingly.
“no baby! don’t be sorry it’s okay!” he quickly kissed your forehead. “i—it’s me… it’s not you at all…”
but there was something else behind his eyes, something you couldn’t quite pinpoint as he just stared at the place where your body met his crotch, hands slowly gripping your hips tighter in a certain way and… and actually moving you now in a certain way that made you promptly realize he was grinding you against him, pleasure quickly twitching at your clit in response as flat hands flew to his chest to stabilize yourself.
“what— what are you doing?” you stammered, your chest heaving a little.
“s—sorry!…” he mumbled, eyes still trained to the same area. “it just— felt kind of good… so..”
yuji peered up at you, a cautious look on his face as he eyed you curiously with his pinky cheeks bright— hesitantly indulging in his overwhelming sick need for you, as simply making out was just not cutting it anymore ever since he got a taste of how something like this could feel a couple of seconds ago.
and your thoughts were identical to his.
timidly, you slid your hands up slowly to rest back on his manly shoulders, the rough material of his compression tee under your fingers making you literally squeeze your hole around nothing, eyes nervously darting around his face.
“o—okay…”
his hand came up to brush some of your soft hair over your shoulder, his thumb moving in to caress gently over your hot cheek.
“can i… can i do it again?”
you shakily nodded, and he gripped your hips again before moving you just like he did before, your crotch coming down to meet his slowly and cautiously as your mouth partially hung open at how good it actually felt, yuji staring at your expression with blown out pupils and nearly drooling over it.
but he wanted more, his hands moving you then to grind on him a little faster, his hips coming up to meet yours at the same time as you shyly met him halfway— quick and stuttery until all of a sudden you were full blown humping into each other like rabid dogs, your tiny whiny moans setting him the fuck off as he captured your lips again to make out with you, fearing if he let you quietly moan like that for his ears to selfishly drink up that he was going to end up busting in his pants.
“y—yuji…” you whimpered in between kisses.
“yeah baby?” his husky voice sent another electrical shock of ecstasy through your body, your fingers gripping his shirt in tiny fists as you didn’t even know what exactly you were pleading him for.
but he knew.
he wrapped his arms entirely around you and moved so that you were laying flat on your back now, yuji in between your legs as he kissed you sloppily while grinding himself back on you again, him literally mimicking how it would be to fuck you as you squeezed his biceps for support, your thin pajama shorts feeling his hard cock bulging from his pj pants and rutting against your cunt desperately with every hump.
yuji, literally trapped in a dimension of arousal and nasty fucking thoughts of you with every moan that slipped past your puffy soft lips, had him reaching and tugging down on the waist band of your shorts like an animal, your baby blue panties with a little ribbon bow in the middle making him nearly choke on his spit.
your hand quickly came to clasp around his wrist, stopping him.
“y—yuji my parents! i don’t know if we should—”
“oh fuck—” he whispered, looking up to the top of your staircase and down where your parents were sound asleep, gnawing so much on his bottom lip in cock blocked agony that he accidentally drew blood.
and you didn’t know why, but the urge was unforgiving as you reached up and cupped his hot sweaty cheeks, pulling his face down as you stuck your tongue out and licked over his bleeding lip.
yuji stared, eyes wide, before he let out a low guttural grown and shoved his face into the crook of your neck.
“fuck fuck fuck fuck—”
you were fucking killing him.
he rolled his leaky cock slowly into you again, his shoulders trembling at the cold feeling of his wet boxers that were literally covered in pre cum the moment your pretty plush thighs sat over his lap, you speaking up.
“m—maybe—”
he pulled back fast.
“yeah?”
“maybe if you just— look. that… that should be fine, right?”
“yeah yeah!” yuji’s invisible tail was practically wagging over your words. “look uh huh! just look baby.”
you bit your lip, slowly reaching down and tugging as both of yuji’s hands went flying down to help you, pulling them over your thighs and down to your ankles before setting them behind him on the couch with a soft thud.
you kept your thighs closed, shy and timid as you realized yuji hadn’t seen you like this yet… your cheeks flaring in embarrassment as he pulled your knees apart and gawked at the vision before him, yuji looking at you like you had built the entirety of rome by yourself with your bare hands.
you hadn’t noticed yet, but your panties were drenched— a patch of wet spread over your lips that literally outlined the anatomy of your pussy to a t, leaving little to the imagination as his eyes stayed locked on your clit in a complete trance.
“oh my god, pretty!…” he murmured, his index finger coming down to softly touch and rub your puffed up clit over your panties, you squeaking in response and slamming your thighs closed again.
“sorry! sorry!” he sputtered, frantic as he came down to peck little kisses on your cheek apologetically, your eyes shut, bashful. “did that hurt? i didn’t mean to i’m sorry—”
“n—no!” you shook your head and slowly peeked your eyes open. “it didn’t… just felt s—sensitive.”
his shoulders relaxed in relief, nodding, his eyes widening in delight when you spread your legs back open for him again, your panties literally stuck slick to your pussy at this point.
yuji’s fingers pressed against your folds, him wanting to just feel the way your little wet lips mushed up against his digits, his curious hand directing him slowly up over your clit and back down by your virgin hole as he breathed hard through his nose, trying to get himself to calm the fuck down over your cunt and not freak you out.
but what he was doing felt good, him having no idea as you pulled your bottom lip in between your teeth with your eyebrows screwed together in euphoria, his ears perking up at the sounds of your sweet little moans and whines the more pressure he applied to it.
and then he got an idea.
as you were distracted getting riled up by his fingers, yuji shoved his other hand under his wet pajama pants and boxers, pulling out his throbbing cock and pumping it a little as his angry tip leaked with every jerk— a drop oozing down and landing right on your nub before rolling over your panties as he breathed out a string of hushed curses.
yuji replaced the hand on your pussy with his cock, his length and tip pushing up in between your sopping cunt and back down, completely soiling your panties with a mix of your arousal and his pre cum as he rolled his hips into you again, you not noticing at all until both of his rough hands came to grip and squeeze over your inner thighs, your eyes fluttering open as you wondered why it felt way better than before, them bulging once you saw his thick long dick slipping and sliding hurriedly against your pussy.
“b—baby!” you moaned breathlessly, but yuji literally could not hear you as his dazed droopy eyes stayed focused on your swollen puss while he continued to rut.
“uh huh..?..” he panted. “what’s wrong sweetheart…”
your words lodged themselves in the back of your throat as a particular rough thrust made you choke and clamp your mouth shut, squeezing your eyes shut in response with your sensitive nub pulsing as you felt yuji’s leaky sticky cum all over you.
“does it— does it feel good?” his eyes finally trailed up to look at you, his already fucked out expression and flushed face forming a yummy pit in your stomach that you recognized as your release whenever you fingered yourself, except that feeling no where near as good as what you felt right fucking now.
“mhm..” you moaned and licked your lips.
yuji’s fingers slid up from your inner thighs and to the straps of your panties, fiddling and playing with them as he rolled his hips like a little perv, his tip at times falling and literally sinking into your gaping virgin hole a bit— your panties a thin stretchy wall that frustratingly stopped his cock from going, slipping back upward instead.
“baby…” he moaned lowly, whispering. “maybe we should just have sex right now…”
you gasped. “right now?! i don’t know yuji my— my parents— and we’ve never—”
he leaned down and sloppily kissed you, speaking in between each smack.
“they’re asleep it’s—” mmphf— “it’s okay—”
yuji already had his middle finger hooked under your wet panties as he started pulling down, you squeaking at the cold breeze hitting your bare clit.
“i want to but— hic!”
he rubbed his tip over your entrance a bit, pooling your juice up.
“what if— what if we get too loud? and they come downstairs—”
he shook his head. “i’ll keep on a lookout pretty don’t worry about it...” he murmured. “you just relax while i pump my cock in, yeah?”
you whimpered, nodding quickly and pathetically as you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down flush against your chest, suctioning tiny sucks on his jaw to keep you from moaning the loudest you’ve moaned all night as he started pushing in, yuji’s mind in a literal fucking state of delirium as his dick was finally gonna be buried in your cute pussy after wanting it for so long.
you hiccuped against his jaw, your arms gripping him tighter as he stretched you out so good, feeling a little pinch in your walls that made you spread your legs wider in attempts at alleviating it.
“ohhhh fuckkkk baby—” he moaned loud and you quickly clamped a hand over his mouth.
“shhh honey shhh—”
“m’sorry m’sorry m’sorry—”
his voice was muffled against your hand as he pumped deeper, your squeal catching itself in your throat and his body fucking shivering at the way your tight slobbering walls sucked him in without him having to even push, your hole clenching around him and pumping more strings of stray pre cum out inside you.
“my god do that again please do that again—” he panted, reeling his hips back slowly and pushing in at a steady rhythm.
“d—do what?” you panted, your eyes closing in pleasure.
“squeeze— shit!— squeeze me please please—” he begged, pressing wet open mouthed kisses on your cheeks as he licked up your little overstimulated tears.
“like— like this?”
you clenched your hole again and his body jerked, his choked moans huffing in your ear as he rolled and snapped his hips faster.
“mm! yuji my god—” you squealed and he placed a hand over your mouth, the both of you now covering over each others as he proceeded to drill his hips in, the couch squeaking with every messy hit.
your hand tightened over his lips the louder he moaned, your eyes silently pleading with him to be a little quieter, but him too lost in the milking of his cock and the way your fucked out face looked as he couldn’t connect the dots with what you were asking of him, suddenly your blurry brain coming into reasonable consciousness for a second as you became aware of the fact that you weren’t even using protection.
“b—baby—” you muffled against his hand. “we’re not using a— mmm! c—condom we need—”
smack smack smack—
“shit i don’t— i don’t have one sweetheart.” he stifled, and yuji only went faster then, harder and jerky as his awkward virgin hips jolted you up and down on him, your eyes rolling back. “s’okay i’ll just pull out m’kay? i’ll pull out—”
his snappy pace brought your brain back into your previous dumb erotic state, nodding dazedly as he scooched his hand down and shoved his middle and ring finger inside your wet mouth, your tongue slobbering over his digits before your lips lewdly closed around them and sucked.
yuji was not keeping a lookout for your parents.
“oh fuck baby you look so fucking pretty doing that…” he choked. “you look so so pretty under me and taking my dick—”
“mhm..” you moaned around his fingers, drool seeping out of your mouth and down your chin as you felt like you were on the brink of cumming and squelching all over him.
“i’m gonna pull out soon okay? i feel—” pant— “i feel like i’m cumming—”
you pulled back from his fingers with a pop and licked your lips, nodding vigorously as you squeezed your eyes painfully shut, your release washing over you like a prickly wave with your mouth hung wide open and your vision blowing bright white.
but in the midst of you creaming, you accidentally clamped your thighs shut around yuji as he tried to slip his dick out.
“fuck! i can’t—” pant— “baby open your legs please im gonna— fuck fuck fuck!—”
yuji’s cum pummeled inside you and filled you the absolute brim as he gasped and whined in your ear, his balls draining so much of it into you that it took no time at all for it to slip past your hole and onto your couch below, the both of you heaving heavily with your clothes stuck against your sweaty sticky bodies.
“are you—” he swallowed. “are you okay baby? i’m sorry i came inside—”
“it’s okay it wasn’t you—” you tried to regulate your breathing. “it— it was my fault… i trapped you in…”
you sheepishly looked at him and gnawed at the inside of your cheek in shame, your face only making him lazily grin and press a hard loving kiss to your cheek.
“it’s okay. we can figure it out later!”
he peeled away from you and sat up, his softening cock still buried inside as he slowly pulled out and watched the rest of his cum spurt out, taking one of his shaky fingers and collecting some before pushing it back in your hole.
“don’t put it back in yujiiii!” you whined.
“sorry! sorry sorry—” he grabbed your wrist gently and kissed the back of your hand, his pinky cheeks vibrant as he looked at you with a wobbly shy smile. “i— i couldn’t help myself…”
you giggled. “s’okay honey.”
he laid his body back over yours, being mindful not to squish you as he leaned some of his weight on his arms, cutely pecking your puffy lips over and over until he was satisfied with the amount, nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck after.
“m’glad my first time was with you yuji…” you murmured into his ear, your words causing his heart to literally bang against his chest as he felt like he was on cloud nine with you underneath him like that.
“i’m glad it was with you pretty.” he pushed, looking into your fucked out eyes with sincerity. “and i hope it stays that way. just my dick.”
you laughed loudly, your hand quickly coming up to cover your mouth as he giggled.
you pecked his nose sweetly and readjusted your hips, your cum covered pussy brushing against his cock again, the blood immediately rushing back to it faster than a speeding fucking bullet.
he traced a loving finger across your bottom lip delicately, a little grin on his face.
you quirked a brow. “what?”
“can we um—“ he quickly kissed you. “can we try doggy style right now?”
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taglist!! <33 (THANK YOU THANK YOU!):
@cupcaketeddybehr @soobiary @roachfun @waterfal-ling @saebaey @reneinii @luvvmae @cake-with-the-cream @pixie-dix @2ukika @cramelmacchiao @hy3phiren @fushigurioo @wil10wthetree
☆han - super graphic ultra modern girl!☆
the first installment in seung-mong's kinktober 2024!
synopsis: han thinks hes seeing things. he usually enjoys camping by himself, but when a bright light and a high pitched noise makes his head throb and his nose bleed, he genuinely thinks he could die. now he REALLY thinks hes seeing things because.. is that someone falling from the sky? after deciding to sleep on it (passing out), he meets you. and uh, oh yea. he's definitely seeing things! "it doesnt matter tho, he'll never have what it takes to be with a girl like me!"
includes: loser nerd PERV!han x alien fem!reader, subby hanji, han jisung is a SIMP LOSER he is so desperate its silly, mention of bondage, use of some kind of aphrodisiac, its really nasty and sloppy bc han jisung has a spit kink i didnt say it i mean i did but i uhm anyway
wc: 10 k WOAH
a/n: wanna know what this super hot alien baddie is saying? use this! thanks for being so patient. i love u
han jisung sweeps back the stray strands of hair that have fallen across his forehead, the thin layer of sweat making it stick uncomfortably against his skin. his brows are furrowed, eyes squinted against the harsh rays of the sun.
he could have picked a better spot to set up camp, but he's far too lazy to pack everything up and find another place. besides, he risks losing this perfectly fine clearing in between the thick of the trees. he supposes its decent enough, close enough to the stream so he could make several trips back and forth to refill his canteen.
he wishes minho was with him, though. he's not really that used to camping alone. by now, minho and him would be fishing for dinner. instead, han decided to pack as many canned foods and prepped sandwiches he could to last him the next couple of days. he never had much luck with fishing anyway.
honestly, you would have thought he was being forced to do this all alone! he shakes off the thought, promising himself that he was completely fine with the fact. he digs for his fishing hat in the duffel bag he proceeds to unceremoniously toss into his tent.
"first order of business, build a fire." he speaks out loud to himself. he jolts back as if surprised by the own sound of his voice, then chuckles to himself.
"okay this is a little weeeeeird," he shakes his head, eyes trained on the ground for any promising branches he could use for his supply.
"hm, not that weird? people talk to themselves all the time." he shrugs, bending down with a squeak as he grabs a couple of logs, then tucks them under his arm.
"nah, its weeeeeird. you're here all alone in the middle of the woods and talking to yourself. OUT LOUD. like a full on conversation. as if there are two parties exchanging information. YOU'RE ALL ALONE. and you're still talking out loud...." he continues to yap to himself, the only other sound besides his voice is the satisfying crunch of the leaves under his boots. he decides that bones crushing would sound similar.
"okay, that was a weird thought. do you need help? hahaha"
he cringes when his voice echoes.
he takes a deep breath and holds it, letting it out only when he feels the familiar burn in his chest. he shakes his head, chuckling at himself.
he wonders how long it will take for him to break.
by his eighth hour alone, han jisung feels like he's going just a little crazy. at first, he thought he was hearing voices. it turned out to be his own. talking. out loud. into the darkness of his tent.
he sits against the pole supporting his tent in the middle, knees to his chest and his arms wrapped around his legs. he finally got to reading the beaten up copy of pride and prejudice that hyunjin lent him, but after reading the same sentence eight times over and over again, he yelled out loud, scaring himself in the process, and chucked the book to the other end of his sleeping bag.
"i should sleep," he groans, looking out into the dark of the forest.
"but its at such an awkward time!" he whines, rubbing his face in frustration. "if i sleep now i'll wake up soooo earlyyyy."
"but im so bored!"
han groans, turning around to lean his head against the wooden pole. he stays like that for a while, chewing on his bottom lip. he's been silent for too long, the ringing in his ears is getting louder and louder.
"fine! i'll go for a walk!" he clasps his hands together before pushing himself off the ground, grumbling to himself as he pulls on his padded jacket and slips into his thick boots. he double checks the burner he used to heat up his dinner is off, and zips up his tent.
it's way too cold for him to be out here right now. han immediately realizes his mistake a good mile away from his camp when a shiver runs down his spine the third time in a row within a five minute interval. the hand holding his flashlight is shaking violently, the other hand tucked tightly in the pocket of his padded jacket.
he's starting to overthink, the eerie silence and his wild imagination running in the dark as he ignores the weight that's started to settle in his chest. he feels as if someone's watching him, the hairs on the back of his neck standing at attention. he shakes his head.
for the most part, han loves being alone. he always more of an introvert, treasuring his alone time. he loves spending time by himself, getting to recharge and do things on his own without that icky feeling of being perceived by others.
he spends most of his hours alone.
he knows how it feels.
which is why he knows he's not alone right now.
in the dark of the woods where the trees are thicker, taller. he swallows the fear, chalking it up to his mind playing games on him. maybe there is such a thing as too much alone time.
"okay, i think thats enough for tonight." he announces into the darkness of the woods.
before he can turn around, a sharp ringing sound pierces his ears. its too loud, too high in pitch. han falls to his knees, flashlight falling onto the ground as his hands rush to cover the sides of his head, palms flat in an attempt to block out the high-pitched ringing.
he's never felt this sensation before, almost as if the soundwaves have entered his brain and proceed to jump all around. his head is pounding and he falls forward into the dirt, knees tucked into his chest in a fetal position.
he thinks hes going to die, truthfully. he faintly registers the fact that his hands have grown wet with what he can only assume is blood. its thick and warm and trickling in between the gaps of his fingers. he's beyond dizzy, eyes scrunching up in pain as he tries desperately to gather himself.
he has to get out of here.
there are tears coming out from his eyes at the pain, but through the thick blurry fog of his tears, he sees a beam of light coming down from the otherwise dark sky. the light blue light casts a shadow, the leaves of the trees dancing on the forest floor.
han thinks hes about to pass out. his skin is covered in goosebumps, and the sharp ringing in his ears have reduced to a dull hum. he blinks slowly, resting on his back as he accepts his fate.
he's dying and god is waiting to pick up his soul, casting a heavenly light down onto his poor, withered, totally dead body. he stares directly into the beam of light that hovers over him. a dark silhouette appears to come down to him, long flowing hair rustling in the wind, arms reaching out to him.
"are you... my guardian angel?" he chokes out once the shadow creeps closer, close enough for him to make out the features of the creature's face through half-lidded eyes.
"beautiful," he whispers, closing his eyes and awaiting the sweet kiss of death.
okay, maybe he was being a little dramatic.
he realizes this now when he jolts awake, leaves crunching under his body from the sudden movement. he's disoriented, rubbing away the sleep from his eyes as he takes in his surroundings.
he doesnt remember falling asleep in the middle of the woods. han's known for being able to fall asleep anywhere, but on the cold, hard, ground? out in the open? where animals could have feasted on him? thats just plain silly.
he sits up, and he's met with a sharp throbbing pain in his head. he lets out a grunt, eyes squeezed shut as he tries to collect himself. he looks around, his flashlight dead beside him. how the hell did he get out here?
he follows the trail back to his camp after walking down to the stream and splashing his face with the cold water, body aching and head still pounding. he considers wrapping this camping trip up and taking the rest of his leave from work in his cozy one bedroom apartment, safe from mosquitoes and ear-splitting ringing and lights from the heavens.
his tent looks normal enough once he finds the clearing, but the nearer he approaches, the more the hairs on his arms stand at attention. he's 100% sure he remembered to zip up the entrance to his tent. the entrance which is now wide open, the flap tucked neatly under a couple of stones.
he feels his heart drop to the pit of his stomach, throat closing up as the dread starts to settle deep in his chest. he swears he remembers locking up properly before going on a walk. he approaches his tent as quietly as he can, fingers clamped tight around the base of his flashlight, ready to swing it as hard as he can at whoever the hell has invaded his territory.
he peeks his head in, his mouth dropping at the sight.
it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.
suddenly, he recalls the events that happened right before he passed out. the loud ringing, the flash of light, his guardian angel.
who's standing inside of his tent. completely naked.
ohmygod, he did die. he's in heaven right now.
he drops his flashlight, mouth opening before he can rationally make a decision.
"hey! you'r-" he's cut off by the zap of electricity that comes once you lock eyes with him, a heat that spreads throughout his whole body and renders him speechless. and for the second time within twelve hours han jisung feels himself collapse on the ground before darkness takes over his vision.
the first thing he feels is the cold. and then the sharp stinging in his cheek. his eyes fly open, and he immediately feels the pain all over his body.
he has never felt this beaten up before.
and then he feels the sharpness on his wrists. he attempts to move one, before he realizes he's tied up. he sits up straighter now, pulling at the rope thats tied tightly against his wrists, binding him to the pole in the middle of his tent.
if he's in heaven, why the fuck does it hurt so much?
"⍙⊑⍜ ⏃⍀⟒ ⊬⍜⎍ ⏃⋏⎅ ⍙⊑⍜ ⎅⍜ ⊬⍜⎍ ⍙⍜⍀☍ ⎎⍜⍀?"
jisung turns towards the source of the weird gibberish to find you sitting calmly on the edge of his bed.
he should be scared. but you're far too beautiful for him to register any actual threat.
you look human enough, your skin could pass as one, no ridges or bumps or patterns or scales to suggest otherwise. but there's something off-putting about your face. your features are too symmetrical, bug-like eyes narrowed and sitting too close to one another. your ears are way too small, especially now as your hair steers clear from your face. its subtle, the way a person could glance at you and not be suspicious. but the longer jisung stares at you, the more his fears are confirmed.
you're not from around here.
"w-what?" jisung whimpers, as if you would be able to understand him.
the look you give him sends a shiver down his spine.
you rise to your full height, top of your head bumping against the roof of his tent. you're definitely taller than him. then his eyes fall to the rest of your body, which, he might add, is completely bare. your skin is smooth all the way down to your pelvis, an even tone except for the area above your pelvis which turns a little darker.
he should be alarmed by the fact that your body is different from that of an average woman, noting in awe at the smooth plane of skin where your belly button should be.
but all he can think about is the fact that he's got a hot... being... standing in the middle of his room.
"eng,,,english?" your voice is small when you ask, as if you're unsure yourself.
han only nods.
you make a sound, and han can only assume you're cursing by the way your brows furrow and your eyes shut in frustration.
"english... not so good." you mumble, scanning the room for something.
"i'd say its pretty good." han squeaks.
you stare at him blankly. you walk around his tent, stepping over his legs and picking up everything you see. he watches you examine the pots he used to make his dinner before setting them gently on the ground.
he cant believe he's letting this happen to him. he watches in horror as you dig through his bag, taking out all the clothes he's brought on the trip. you're quite literally prodding around his personal belongings, and he's watching you, letting you, with a chub in his pants.
is he sick?
in his defense, you're completely naked in front of him, bending over and exposing yourself to him. han's always been known to have... different sexual preferences. admittedly, hes a little bit of a freak. to put it quite bluntly, he's into that supernatural shit. he's not afraid to say it! he digs that tentacle shit. he briefly wonders whether or not you possess some kind of supernatural abilities. he's read all about them. aphrodisiac slick? tentacle's hidden in between your legs? oooo does your tongue-
you make a sound of surprise before picking up the book he'd abandoned last night, excitedly turning to him.
"⟟⌇ ⏁⊑⟟⌇ ⌇⍜⋔⟒ ☍⟟⋏⎅ ⍜⎎ ⌇⏃☊⍀⟒⎅ ⏁⟒⌖⏁?" you hold the book in your hand as you sink to your knees beside him.
"i-m sorry i dont understand," jisung whispers.
you huff in frustration. "what... you do... this?"
jisung tries to understand your broken english. "oh! you uhm.. you read?" he nods towards the book in your hands, moving his head back and forth to show you that you have to open the flap, turn to the next page.
you tilt your head in confusion. you start to mimic his movements, moving your head back and forth in the same motion. jisung has to bite his lip from laughing.
"look, i could help you but you tied me up, so..." jisung nods towards his restraints.
you study his face for a long moment. "you.... harm?"
jisung shakes his head so violently he can feel his brain moving. "no. no harm. promise."
you give him one last look from head to toe before slowly nodding. you inch closer to his chest, arms wrapping around him to reach for the painful knot that keeps him hostage. han lets out a sigh of relief once the tie loosens, shaking the ache away from his hands.
you continue to stare at him, slightly backing away as he reaches for the book on the ground.
"you read it. like this, see?" han opens up the book on the page he had dog-eared last night, gliding his finger across the page to highlight the words.
you make a weird rumble sound from deep in your chest, eagerly snatching the book away from him. your brows furrow as you attempt to read, slowly sounding out the letters under your breath. han watches you, eyes trailing from your wide eyes to the purse of your lips as you read. they fall to even more dangerous territory down to your chest, and the smooth skin of your stomach, to the space between your thighs.
"oh!" he squeaks, awkwardly clearing his throat after catching your attention. "you should put on some clothes. you can borrow some of mine, no titty- i erm, mean no biggy!" he stands then, walking over to the mess that is his duffel bag. he pulls out his worn out alien shirt (very fitting, he thinks) and a pair of sweatpants. you'll just have to do with no underwear for now. he takes his time in refolding all his clothes before dumping them in a wrinkled pile at the bottom of his bag.
"here, put these on." he offers you his clothes from where you sit cross-legged on the floor of his tent. you finally pull away from the book, and stare blankly from the fabric in his hands to his face.
a beat passes before han finally clears his throat. "you uh... put them on. like mine, see?" he gestures towards his shorts.
"why?" you ask.
oh dear.
"oh, well. people dont... respond well to seeing other people, or well in your case- a being's naked body." he explains, crouching down beside you.
you dog ear the page just like he did before closing it and setting it down on the floor.
"you.. you dont respond well?"
han swallows. "oh, well i mean, more of like the general public."
"so you... okay with me, naked body?"
his cheeks warm. "i mean, its not exactly a problem. you're pretty and interesting to look at with all due respect, but like- i dunno you might be a little... cold?"
you shake your head before placing your hand on his cheek. he jolts at the contact of your warm palm on his skin.
"oh. you run hot." he squeaks.
you nod.
how in the hell can he persuade you to just put on the damn clothes? not to be a perv or anything but he feels so icky shamelessly staring at your body, and you're none the wiser. he can feel himself half-hard, (a totally valid response, he would argue) but the guilt is eating at him. he doesnt want to take advantage of your naivety.
"but the clothes... they provide an.. extra layer of protection, you know" he winces at his lame response.
your eyes widen, reaching for the clothes in earnest. "armor?"
han bites his bottom lip and nods.
you look down at the fabric in your hands with awe before you stand up. you look down from the clothes back to han.
han mentally slaps himself. "oh, right. er- lemme help you."
han crouches down, holding the sweatpants out for you. he gently guides your legs to where they need to go, slipping the pants up your thighs and settling them on your waist. his fingers brush against where your belly button should be as he ties the strands tighter, to ensure the fabric wouldnt fall down.
"there yo-" to say han was blindsided by the heavy hand that smacks across the side of his face is an understatement. your whole palm lands against his cheek. his jaw drops in shock as he looks up at you.
"⍙⊑⏃⏁ ⏁⊑⟒ ⎎⎍☊☍? ⊑⍜⍙ ⎅⏃⍀⟒ ⊬⍜⎍ ⏁⍜⎍☊⊑ ⋔⟒ ⏁⊑⟒⍀⟒!" you yell, clutching at the hem of his sweatpants and taking a step away from him, as if wounded.
"i- what?? what happened i-"
"⎅⍜⋏⏁ ⏁⍀⊬ ⏁⍜ ⎅⟒⋏⊬ ⟟⏁! ⊬⍜⎍ ⏁⍜⎍☊⊑⟒⎅ ⋔⟒ ⏁⊑⟒⍀⟒, ⊬⍜⎍ ⌿⟒⍀⎐⟒⍀⏁!" you continue to rant, pointing a finger at him accusingly.
"okay, okay... lets calm down- just- tell me what i did? what happened? did i hurt you?" han holds his hands up in surrender as he slowly approaches you.
you take a deep breath and stare him down. "dont.. no touch." your voice is hard.
"okay, okay. im sorry." jisung coos.
"that... p-part! no." your voice wavers slightly.
"i hear you. i understand. im sorry, okay?" his voice is gentle as he takes another cautious step towards you.
you let out a deep sigh and nod. "i- i sorry too. i hurt you."
"oh, no its fine." han bites his tongue in an attempt to hold back the tears in his eyes.
he approaches you once more, this time with the shirt bunched up to place it on your head easier. you gasp at the sensation and han chuckles.
he wonders how he would react if he were in your shoes, in an unfamiliar planet with a man you can hardly understand, as he pokes and prods at you.
how did you even get here in the first place? he decides he'll save his questions for when you're a little more comfortable with him.
he gently wraps his hand around your wrists and guides them into the shirt before he reaches around to untuck your hair from the fabric, letting it sweep down your back.
"there! now you.. kinda look like me." he laughs.
you stare at him. "ha. ha. ha. what that mean?" you ask.
"oh, when something is like.. funny? if you like something you kinda.. laugh." he struggles to explain.
"oh. ha. ha. ha."
han cant help the giggle that escapes him. "oh by the way. whats your name?"
"name?"
"well i mean... me, han jisung." he points towards himself, poking his chest for emphasis. he turns his pointer fingers towards you before gently poking your chest.
you make a sound of understanding before you tell him yours.
"oh. y/n. thats pretty," he compliments.
you make a sound akin to a purr, rumbling deep in your chest. "i- i read. you book. okay?" you point.
"oh, alright!" han bends down to pick it up before he hands it to you. "its starting to get dark. i'm gonna start a fire okay? i erm- i leave for a bit. you stay."
you only nod before sinking to the ground, folding your legs under you as you lean against the supporting pole of the tent. "i stay." you reassure him. its not like you could go anywhere else anyway.
you watch as han gives you one last smile before he steps out into the dusk, zipping up his tent behind him.
you like han, you decide. you were exiled onto this planet for.. a crime you had no choice but to commit. you understand the gravity of the Supremes' punishment now, throwing you down into a disgusting, vile planet such as Earth.
why couldnt they have dropped you off at Sebion? at least you'd be the most intelligent sentient being. sure, the siens were a little annoying, constantly screeching at the mark of every hour. but that, you could live with. humans? a totally different story.
you remember the lessons they taught about humans, the most selfish, vile creature to exist in the universe. they look a little different from what you've been taught, though. they're supposed to have sharp teeth and long nails. the scariest part about them? they lie. imagine that! the thought sends a shudder down your spine. you know all about the evil that is the human race. possessed by horrors like greed, selfishness, and hatred.
they're the creatures that scared you the most. you could deal with the merqrai on vikunus. they had a weakness, a soft spot on the top of their head you could whack and render them unconscious. but humans? just about the only sentient being in the entire universe capable of betrayal. they are inherently evil, your tutors said.
you think back to how you had zapped han jisung, how his body folded like cloth into a heap on the floor. was electricity their weakness? something about han jisung makes you believe he's different, though. he's certainly not as ugly as the humans they showed you in class. he's almost a little pretty, with round eyes and chubby cheeks.
you'd like to think he wouldn't lie like the other humans, too.
by the time han jisung returns to his tent, you've finished reading the interesting novel cover to cover. admittedly, you skipped all the boring parts and instead focused on the dialogue. you wanted to impress han with your new english.
"hello." you chirp cheerily as soon as han jisung enters, removing his gloves and settling closer to the radiator in the middle of the space.
"oh! hi." jisung blushes, reaching his hands out to the heat.
"you are cold?" you coo, moving a little closer to sit beside him.
han just giggles. "yea, a little. it's around winter now so its getting chilly. i think its gonna snow tomorrow."
"winter? the cold time?" you vaguely remember your tutor telling you all about the seasons on Earth.
thank god you picked up those extra lessons on Earth.
"yea! does it snow where you're from? han is seated more comfortably now, legs stretched in front of him.
"snow? the... uh... from the sky? falling, yes?"
"yea! the little white things that fall from the sky."
"oh... no snow at home. just uhm what you call it... rain?"
han beams at you. "you said your english was bad, but i think you're doing perfectly fine. pretty good for someone not around here, actually."
you cant help the smile that creeps on your face. a silence falls over the both of you after, with han staring deeply into the emptiness of his tent. you look at him now, really look at him while he's distracted.
his eyes really are pretty, glowing here in the dark and shining a little thanks to the reflection of the fire lit in his tiny lamp. you inch a little closer to him now, slowly just until your thighs press against the side of his.
"erm- what are you doing?" han instantly pulls away.
"cold? i warm you." you offer, bringing your knees to your chest in an attempt to make yourself small. you figure maybe he's a little apprehensive to be too close to you. you did happen to zap him earlier.
han lets out a sigh and crawls back to his seat next to you, the side of his body pressed firmly against yours.
"damn, you're really hot." he chuckles before inhaling sharply at the double meaning. he doubts you'd understand.
"i know. you shake." you coo, draping one arm over his shoulders and pulling him to you a little more firmly.
han stiffens at your side, head awkwardly pressed against the side of your chest. he can faintly hear the rhythm of your heartbeat and his eyes widen.
"whoa, thats so cool!" han exclaims, pulling away from you.
you tilt your head in confusion as han gently cups the back of your neck to pull your ear against his own chest. you gasp at the sound.
"so slow!" you yell, looking up at him in awe.
"and yours is so fast." han chuckles, resting his head against your chest once more.
you let him wrap himself around you, the weight of today falling on han's shoulders as he subconsciously slips into a state of sleep. you watch as his blinking slows, until his lids flutter into a final close. his breathing evens then, warm air tickling the side of your chest with his every exhale. a deep rumble starts within your chest, a vibration that spreads throughout your whole body until the tips of your fingers. you reach up to delicately stroke his hair away from his face, his smooth skin and sharp nose drawing your attention.
"so pretty," you mumble, your own eyes fluttering shut to the sound of han's heavy breathing.
when jisung wakes, he's cold and shirtless. he sits up abruptly, throwing the weighted blanket off his upper body and scrambling for his slides. its far too early for his heart to be beating this fast, but panic settles in his chest when he registered your absence.
"y/n?" he croaks, hastily unzipping the flap to his tent and all but throwing himself outside.
"morning!" you cheer, hair wet and dripping onto what was han's shirt from yesterday, now damp and hanging awkwardly on your frame, as you'd shoved an arm and your head into one hole, stretching the fabric around you. in one hand, you hold a sharp, pointed stick. impaled on it are several colorful fish, flopping in an attempt to escape their inevitable death.
on the other hand, your clothes from last night.
"oh." jisung exhales, hands coming up to clutch at his chest.
"i.. i catch these!" you beam, extending the stick to him.
jisung can't help but giggle a little. "yes. i see that. thank you. my errr- my shirt?"
you look down as if just remembering that you'd stolen his shirt from him in his sleep.
"oh! i... i walk to the water to clean me, i see in the water this," you shrug to the fish, "but then i cant reach! so i go in and catch them. but i get wet. so i take off. but then i see people and i remember what u say to me. 'general public dont want naked body.'" you finish seriously, voice lowered in an attempt to mimick han's.
han's heart drops at the mention of other people.
"you.. you saw someone? where?"
you turn and point to a clearing not far from the other edge of the river.
"a man. like you!" you cry excitedly. "can we meet?"
"no." han's voice is firm as he wraps his hand around your arm, pulling you to the tent. "lets cook that fish for lunch. maybe we should go back to the city." he thinks aloud to himself. not a lot of people know about this campsite, somewhat of a private haven shared between his friends. minho's father used to take them camping here, and the only other people who know of this site are minho's close friends. he's a little worried to run into someone he knows right now with you here with him. not that he wants to hide you or anything...
"the city!" you screech, plopping yourself down on the floor. "i want to see! i hear about the... the things you move in? the big.." you proceed to gesture wildly, hands reaching out to grip onto something and steering left and right.
"yes, a car?" han offers, turning the burner on as he watches you with fondness.
"ohhh yes! i want car." you sigh dreamily.
han approaches you as he lets the food cook, snorting to himself as he reaches out to fix your shirt. gently, he raises the collar and removes your arm, shooting it in the right hole.
"there. you're like a big baby."
"your baby! ha ha ha ha." you joke, looking to han for validation.
instead, his cheeks redden and he shrugs. "i guess, yea?" he turns away from you as he reaches into his duffel for a shirt of his own.
a couple of beats of silence pass before you turn to han. "do you have mate?"
han chokes on his own saliva, doubling over in pain as he slaps his own chest.
"i- what?"
honestly, you have no idea what possessed you to ask that question. you suppose its the curiosity in you. but another part of you is less naive. you know whats happening with han. after last night, the way you fell asleep in his arms with his heartbeat in your ear. he's sweet to you, kind and patient. you wonder if humans do these things to each other regularly, or if, like your kind, such special moments are reserved for special people. you sincerely hope its the latter.
"i just... wonder. like elizabeth and mister darcy." you mumble.
han chuckles at that. "oh. right, then. no. i dont have a mate. do you?"
you blush. you didnt expect him to ask you the same question. you firgure you're fine with opening up to han.
"i did."
han's eyes widen as his whole body turns to you in bewilderment.
"what?" he squeaks.
you give him a small smile filled with nothing but sadness. "not now. i did have but now no." you clarify, shrugging.
"aren't mates for life or something? what do you mean you dont have one now?"
you stare at him blankly. han suddenly feels as if he's overstepped. "i'm sorry, i didnt mean to-"
"mate is a bad man." you sigh, gaze dropping to the floor.
han swallows, staying silent in fear that making a sound would somehow change your mind about sharing something so personal with him.
you stare at him thoughtfully for a minute before you continue. "he was forced mate. for me. i dont choose," you explain, brows furrowing. "he want me but i dont want him."
"why?" han cant stop himself from asking.
you make a face, and han laughs. "ugly?"
"very."
"so what happened?"
you shrug. "he try to mate me. i say no. he say yes! i hurt him. he send me down here."
"thats horrible." han shivers, pouting at you.
"yes. worst punishment. earth." you sigh, shaking your head.
"hey, its not that bad." han bumps you with his shoulder, trying desperately to lighten the somewhat heavy mood.
"yes. not bad." you say genuinely, holding his gaze.
han coughs awkwardly and smiles sheepishly at you before he stands abruptly. "you should come to the city with me. you can stay at my place for a while and get used to things and then maybe... i dunno. we'll see. how does that sound?"
you simply stare up at him with a blank expression on your face.
han swallows before starting once more, "we go to the city. my house. you stay and then.... you leave. when you want."
"oh yes!" you yell excitedly, "in the.. uhm car?" you're eager.
"yea... its kind of a long ride though, you'll probably grow bored."
han could not be more wrong. from helping him pack up his tent to bringing his stuff to his car, to squeezing everything into the backseat, to settling down in the passenger seat- you're absolutely buzzing. if you were locked in a room, han's sure you'd be bouncing off the walls.
"what is that?" you point out to the green fields just outside your window.
"thats a cow," han answers your umpteenth question of the day.
"and that?"
"another cow."
"that?"
"still a cow."
"and this?" you finally turn your attention to the things inside the car. your finger glides across the top of the stereo, fiddling with the buttons and twisting the knobs.
"thats the radio. it plays music, see?" han turns the radio on to a random station, a song he recognizes by gorillaz playing softly.
you stare in awe. "whats that language?"
"music," han hums along, turning the volume up.
"when you're close to me~ dun dun, dun dun dun dun dun, dun dun," han's thumbs drum along to the beat on his steering wheel.
"i like that. ha ha ha," you offer thoughtfully, trying (and failing) to match the way han bobs his head along to the music.
"yea? thats good. we have something in common."
by the time han pulls into the parking right under his unit, you've somewhat calmed down. admittedly, he swears he didnt mean to, but his mind wandered to the man you crossed paths with in the woods. what if he saw how... different you looked? he imagines you thrashing wildly in the river, catching fish with your bare hands. he worries his bottom lip until he can feel a little bit of blood. what if he told someone? what if someone comes to take you away from him?
not that han feels like he owns you in any way, but he cant explain the feeling of responsibility he has over you. he tries to tell himself its silly. you've known each other for 2 days! and yet when han watches you stare out the window in awe, he feels his heart beat erratically in his chest and his cock twitch in interest. do you even feel that way for him?
you on the other hand, are completely confused. han starts to get quieter and quieter the nearer you get to his home. you start to wonder if he's suddenly regretting bringing you here. he starts to zone out, completely ignoring your questions. you figure maybe he's grown tired of your yapping, constantly asking him questions. instead, you busy yourself with staring out the window.
honestly, you can find some similarities between his planet and yours. the tall buildings that seem to tower over everyone, the way people seem to walk with purpose, a destination in mind. there are many different creatures on this planet, some that walk on all fours and are significantly smaller than humans. han tells you they are called "animals" and that there are lots of different kinds. han tells you he has one in his apartment. a "dog" he calls bbama.
"just... stay right behind me, alright?" han says anxiously, keys tight in his hand.
you're starting to get a little nervous yourself. clutching tightly on to the straps of his bag.
han exhales as he pushes open his front door. "bbama baby? daddy's home!"
the little puppy bounds excitedly for the door, barking and yipping at his feet. han coos down at him, gently settling his bags down by the door and moving in to allow you some space to enter.
"we have a visitor, bbam! say hi." han scoops his little baby up to his chest and holds him out to smell you.
you stay frozen in fear, the furry creature sniffing at you wildly before his tongue darts out to lick at your hand.
"HE GOT ME. HE GOT ME." you start to sob, backing into the farthest corner and clutching at your hand as if in pain. bbama is taken aback by your loudness and starts barking, tail wagging as if to say he enjoys this game.
"its okay, its okay! he likes you!" han reassures you, biting down on his tongue to keep from laughing.
"he.. he attack me! with his mouth!" you accuse, waving your fingers in his face.
"noooo, he kissed you! its a way to show you like someone, see?" han lifts bbama up to his face, who immediately starts licking his cheek enthusiastically.
you watch, still a little apprehensive. you lower your hands, scooting a little closer to the furry ball in han's arms.
"he... he's so small." you note, tilting your head to scan bbama's whole figure.
"yea, hes just a baby. he's totally harmless." han coos, setting bbama down on the floor. the dog immediately runs to your legs, jumping up and down.
you only stare at him. "what is.... his purpose. like why?"
han is a little taken aback by your question. "for friendship?" he offers.
you seem satisfy with his answer, carefully stepping over the dog as it continues to nip at your pants, weaving in and out from between your legs as you walk around han's apartment. its nice and cozy, bright with lots of windows to let in light. his living room is cute, a long couch and a tv, a funky rug in the middle.
han watches you look around, rocking back and forth on his heels as he takes a deep breath. "uhm.. so this is where i live." he says weakly.
you nod. "its nice." you hum, running your fingers along the countertop in his kitchen. you continue to look around until your gaze lands on him, fixed on the way he seems to wait for your approval.
"okay. well, uhm. you can sleep in my room and ill take the couch."
you tilt your head. "why apart?"
han swallows. "well.. i mean- its just.. not right..." your heart sinks a little. not right?
"i want near you. like in your tent." you refer to the night han slept in your arms.
"no! that.. that cant happen again. you sleep in my room. i sleep here." han's voice is final. he cant allow himself near you, guilt suddenly eating at the way his body reacts to you. he knows he cant help but be attracted to you. its just the fact that you're so naive, so clueless to the way he yearns to touch you. he feels like a total perv.
your brows furrow in confusion. you thought maybe you were past this weird awkwardness with han. he seems to prove you wrong now, eyes darting nervously across the room and to the floor, as if mapping out a way for him to get out of this conversation.
"you dont want me?" you ask sternly.
"what? no! i dont-"
han is interrupted by the sound of keys jingling by his door. his heart drops when he remembers he's home two days early. he'd asked minho to house sit for him.
"oh. you're back?" minho opens the front door before han can successfully close the door stopper, making him look like a fool as he lunges awkwardly forward and quickly stopping himself.
"oh- yea i dont feel well." he forces out a weak cough.
"riiiiight. okay who's this?' minho nods to you, who appears from the kitchen at the sound of another voice.
you gasp. "another human!" you quickly approach the pair, ignoring han's quick head shakes of no.
"err.. yea?" minho raises an eyebrow before turning to his friend. "seriously who is this?"
"no one! just some random i said id give a ride home aha haha," han sweats.
no one? you are no one now? you give han a stern look before you lock eyes with the stranger.
"i am y/n."
"cool. i am minho. where you from?"
"im from zemenia!"
"oh... cool. exotic."
"thats enough getting to know each other! bye bye now." han quickly pushes minho forcefully by the chest, nudging him until his whole body is out in the hall.
"you still have to pay me for the 2 days, alright?" minho says.
"whatever, fuck off. bye!" han throws himself against the door dramatically, huffing and running a hand through his hair.
"that was close," he chuckles, turning to you.
your face does not match the wide smile he so proudly wears. your face is twisted in a scowl, arms crossed in front of you.
"what?" han squeaks.
"why? why do you hide me?" you storm away, plopping yourself on han's couch.
"what are you talking about?" han whines, chasing after you. "what if minho found out about where you're from? who you are? what you are?"
he spits the words out as if disgusted. could that be it? han is disgusted by who you are? what you are?
"ah, so you are ashamed." you're quick to argue.
han cant believe his ears. where is this coming from? he falls to his knees in front of you. "what? no! im not ashamed of you."
"then why do you hide me? you are so confusing. you hold me and say things to me and i like that feeling. but then you act weird. and say you dont want to stay near me. and you hide me from other humans! and then you almost kill me with your bbama!" you're throwing your hands in the air, clearly agitated.
han's frowning. he knows you must feel confused, overwhelmed. but he's also smiling at the back of his head. "y/n-"
"i... i dont know! these feelings. inside.. i dont- i dont feel these things at home. i- this is all so different! and you're confusing me." you groan, kicking your legs up to the couch and hugging them to your chest.
han sighs. "no.. you got it all wrong. let me explain, okay?"
"⏃⌇⌇⊑⍜⌰⟒" you bite back.
"hey. i dont like the sound of that." han whimpers.
you only roll your eyes.
han sits up with a sigh, crawling slowly next to you. he grabs you by the knees and forces you to turn your body towards him. his fingers rest there, gently caressing the skin there.
"look, i am not. ashamed of you. at all. i think you're the coolest thing to ever happen to me! which is why... im scared." han sighs.
you look up at him, fearful. "you scare of me?"
"no! i just- im scared that... someone's gonna take you away from me as fast as i got you, you know?"
you nod, timid.
"and im.. a little overwhelmed. that feeling you feel? with all the... feelings in you? and you're all confused, right? thats how i feel too! like... its kinda weird because we've known each other for such a short amount of time but.. i just feel... i feel something for you." han finishes off quietly, gaguing your reaction.
you only stare back.
okay, lets try again. "i.. im like mr darcy. and you're elizabeth. except i havent read the book so i dont know if they end up together... do they?"
"they are together."
"yea, so like.. i like you. but i feel bad."
"but why?" you whisper.
"because... i feel like im taking advantage of you... i feel like. you only know me. i feel like im trapping you. and i feel like its going too fast." han rushes everything out, like he's rapping.
you blink at him. "are humans... slow?"
han lets out a chuckle. "well, much slower than this." he gestures between the two of you.
"but. you like me. i like you. what is the problem?" you say, like its the easiest thing on earth.
han is caught off guard by how sincerely you look at him. maybe it could be the easiest thing on earth. maybe he's too in his head about everything.
you reach out to hold his hand, breaking him out of his trance. "no problem, yes?"
he huffs. "no problem."
han spends the rest of the afternoon making it up to you. he cooks you some food without setting his kitchen on fire, which, in his books, counts as a miracle. he watches as your eyes light up with every spoonful, the flavors exploding in your mouth. he holds your hand in understanding as he tells you how everything back at home tasted the same. he makes a promise to feed you everything ever.
he lets you watch everything your heart desires, heart hammering in his chest as you watch his favorites with the same enthusiasm as him. he answers all your questions with patience, never once making you feel like a burden. you appreciate that.
and later, after youve both showered (he insisted on doing this separately lest he get a heart attack), he dresses you up in his comfiest clothes and settles you on the bed next to him. you watch him in anticipation. he swallows, turning to shut the lights off.
"hannie," you coo, reaching for his hand.
"yes?" he tries to be nonchalant.
"you dont want to touch me?"
he fails.
"i- i dont know..."
"we do that at home too, you know?' you tease him.
his heart falls just a little. "oh. youve done it?"
you shake your head, no. "mate for life. remember?"
han swallows. "r-right."
"you shake. you scared?" you try your best to calm him down, sitting up beside him.
"well, i- just never done it, too." he mumbles.
"good. we learn together."
you're a fast learner, apparently. han showed you how to kiss, gentle and slow. yet you're here on top of him, arms wrapped around his neck as you kiss him incessantly. he can do nothing but take it, desperate hands clutching at your sides in an attempt to ground himself.
its so wet and sloppy, your saliva mixing with his and creating a puddle that leaks out the corner of his mouth in drool. it makes him dizzy, the way your tongue pushes against his.
"i- wait, lets slow down." he manages to squeak before you devour his mouth once more.
"you humans and your slow." you hum, pulling away just slightly to allow han some space to breathe.
he looks so pretty like this, eyes glazed over and cheeks rosy. his glasses are askew, lips shiny with spit. you lean over to lick at his cheek, the way he told you those who like each other do.
"there. you feel that i like you, right?"
han thinks its lethal, the way you do things that are just so dirty, and you're so unaware. he's never been this hard, and all you've done is just kiss him a little.
"y-yes. i like you too." han coos, hand resting at your nape and applying pressure to push your face closer to his, lips finding yours once more.
"i feel like i like you more." you pout at him.
han shakes his head. "no way," his voice is so much thicker, so much deeper as he leans forward to press his lips against yours.
you deny him a third time. "hannie, show me you like me." you whisper.
he blinks up at you stupidly. "h-how?"
you reach for his hands and drag them to the hem of your shirt. he understands, quickly undressing you and throwing the fabric to the opposite corner of his room.
"you're so beautiful." he gasps in awe, chin resting against your chest as he looks up at you.
"you can touch me. its okay." you reassure him, dragging his fingers along your bare torso. he relishes in the feeling of your warm skin against his, tips of his fingers gliding along inches upon inches of your skin, up and down your sides and across the front of your stomach. you hum, fingers tangling in his hair as you watch him explore you.
"want you to take off, too." you sigh, pulling at his shirt. he complies with no protest. hes back to kissing you the instant his shirt is off, hands coming up to cup your cheeks and pull you infinitely closer to him. he licks into your mouth eagerly, taking every drop of spit in your mouth as if its meant for him. you allow him to, letting out little sounds and squeaks.
"need you to ride me, please? will you ride me, baby?" han whimpers against your lips, hands groping at your chest.
"show me how," you're breathless when you pull away, leaving enough space for han to shimmy his pants off your hips. he groans at the sight of your thighs, plush and ready to be marked. you're eager for him, spreading your legs to show the slit in between your thighs.
he watches in awe as you dip two fingers into your hole, scissoring the digits until you feel you've loosened yourself up enough.
"you, please. off." you mumble.
han obeys instantly, rushing to push his jeans down his thighs, shaking the fabric off until it sits at his ankles. you blink once you take in the size of his cock, hard and aching for you.
han suddenly grows shy, hands cupping his cock as his ears grow red. "whats wrong? is it.. is it okay?"
"its... big. not as big at home." you exhale shakily.
his dick twitches. you think he's big?
"its okay, let me eat you out, itll feel better when its wet." he promises, pulling you to sit on his face.
you back away in panic. "you eat me?" you ask in shock.
han laughs, breathless. "no baby, not literally! just... let me show you, okay? trust me?" he hums, stroking your thighs gently.
"o-okay." you relax in his hold, allow him to maneuver you until your core sits right at his open mouth.
"relax, baby, i got you." han coos, before he lets his tongue out to scoop the liquid in between your thighs.
the taste immediately goes straight to his head, making him dizzy and hot. he lets out a low groan. now, han is a munch. he loves eating pussy. all kinds of pussy, truthfully! he's not one to discriminate. he thinks every pussy is unique and none of them should be compared to one another.
yours though? oh he means it deep in his balls when he says its the best. the taste is different, genuinely sweet like honey as it trickles down his throat. he swallows up everything you have to offer to him, growing deaf to the way you moan pitifully above him, ignoring the painful sting that your fingers bring when you pull at his hair.
"hannie! thats.. good! i- i ⍜⊑ ⋔⊬ ⎎⎍☊☍ ⏁⊑⏃⏁⌇ ⌇⍜ ☌⍜⍜⎅!" han chuckles against your mound, sticking his tongue as deep into you as he can. he thinks he's tripping now, lightheaded as his blood rushes south. suddenly everything's so sensitive, his senses heightened. every time your fingertips brush against his face he jolts a little, the sweat on his back suddenly too wet, too much for him to bare.
you fall apart on his tongue with a cry and han hums in triumph, swallowing the nectar you gift him. you shake on top of him and han drags you down to his lap, sitting up to wrap his arms around you.
"good?" he asks, cocky.
"yes," you sob, eager to kiss him as thanks. he accepts gratefully, tongue swirling with yours as he situates you on top of his aching cock.
"can i put it in, baby? please. please let me fuck you, y/n." he begs, pathetic.
you hum, your forehead resting against his. "you have to ask some more. thats how it is."
han whimpers. you're making him beg for it? how cruel. "please, baby. i'm literally so hard right now, it hurts so bad. never been this hard. need to put it in your pussy so bad,"
"hurts?" you coo condescendingly, wrapping your slender fingers around his cock.
han can only whimper as you tug on his dick. "please,"
you give in to him then, "put it in, then."
he scrambles to wrap his hand around his base, rubbing the tip along your slit to catch the wetness there before he presses in. you bite your bottom lip, the stretch getting to you.
"im sorry baby, does it hurt? i bet it hurts so bad." he hates that he's hurting you, but he cant deny the way he throbs harder at the face you make, eyes squeezed shut and mouth gaping open. he pulls you closer, shoving his tongue into your mouth in an attempt to distract you from the pain.
you sloppily kiss him as he sets you deeper onto his cock, your thighs shaking from the effort. you let out a gasp once you take him to the base, feeling so full.
"oh my holy fuck," han gasps, bringing his fist to his mouth and biting down on his knuckles in an attempt to holding off his orgasm.
he's just started, and he can already feeling it end.
what kind of alien pussy magic is this?
"oh!" you exhale, hands gripping tightly onto han's shoulders. "its.. a lot," you're speechless.
"it feels so good," han whines, arms wrapping tightly around your waist.
you start to move then, rocking your hips back and forth, driving han absolutely crazy.
"fuck, yes. take my cock baby. its yours now." he babbles.
"mine?" you coo, nuzzling into his cheek.
"you can have my whole house. take everything i own. just dont stop moving your hips like that, please." his mouth is filthy, and you only smile.
"like this?" han whines when you speed up, fingers scratching the skin on your back.
"im so sorry baby i think im gonna cum." han pouts as he looks up at you, looking genuinely sorry. "i cant hold it."
he's not usually this sensitive, but something in the way your pussy hugs him just right has him losing his goddamn mind.
"its okay, hannie. i like you so much." you coo, holding him close. he shoves his face in between your breasts as you ride him for everything he has, cumming wildly with a shout. he spills inside you, eyes squeezing shut as tears threaten to spill down his cheeks.
mygod. its good enough to make a man cry.
you hold him gently, soothing him with scratches down his back. its a long while before han pulls away from you, sweaty and red in the face.
"ill do better next time, promise." he pouts at you.
"ha ha ha. we have all the time. promise." you coo back, wiping away the strands that litter across his forehead.
"thats true. you're not going anywhere anymore." he pulls out of you and swiftly tackles you to the bed, a squeak slipping past your lips as han holds you down against the bed, his sweaty body pressing against yours. he brings his ear up to rest against your chest, the quick boom boom lulling him to sleep. you watch with fondness as han starts to snore, your fingers gently rubbing up and down his back.
how ironic for you to find home a million miles away from where it was once. he thinks its a little out of the ordinary, this love you two will share. who cares though, really?
han's got his fantasy alien baddie girlfriend.
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they dont know im user seung-mong and im making up smut fics in my head
𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬
fratboy!stray kids x reader
synopsis: a night where you reveal your most intense desires to your best friend lands you in the hot seat. you quickly find yourself in the heart of frat party central - will you embrace the connections you make in your hot bitch summer?
status: completed
total wc: 45.6k
[please view specific chapters for warnings! this work is 18+ MDNI]
makes me dizzy [lee minho x gn!afab reader, 18+ smut]
⇢ the best surprises come from the most unexpected sources - like having your crush corner you in a frat party after hearing you confess your deepest desires of him in the background of a video.
2. wanna be your favourite boy [han jisung x gn!afab reader, side lee minho x reader, 18+ smut]
⇢ after spending a night with the man of your dreams, your best friend won’t look you in the eyes or reply to your texts. what did you do wrong? nothing - he just wants you.
3. need some air [seo changbin x gn!afab reader, side lee minho x reader, 18+ smut]
⇢ your situationship - the man of your dreams - gives you full, explicit permission to fuck his frat brothers in your effort of a hot bitch summer. who’s next, after you ruined your best friend in bed?
4. drunk on rose water [hwang hyunjin x gn!afab reader, 18+ smut]
⇢ it was well established now that you were fucking your way around the frat. you hadn't intended to make hyunjin your next victim, but when you end up alone together, it seems like the perfect opportunity.
5. 5-star [lee felix x gn!afab reader, 18+ smut]
⇢ your best friend is pissed he hasn’t had his turn yet. the only problem is, his turn begins to take place in a room with three other people present.
6. go ahead and cry [kim seungmin x gn!afab reader, 18+ smut]
⇢ following the events of your almost-orgy, you can’t stop thinking about a certain someone and the way he behaved in bed.
7. drive [bang chan x gn!afab reader, 18+ smut]
⇢ the party was boring. thankfully, the frat president who you hadn’t spoken to for a while offers you to go on a drive.
8. to be yours [yang jeongin x gn!afab reader, 18+ smut]
⇢ you and your favourite boy have planned to take apart the youngest member of the frat - but the question is, what has developed along the way? your hot bitch summer has a high chance of being fully successful, albeit with some new feelings.
© hyunsvngs, est 2023. all rights reserved.
guess who turned 20
Agora Hills (M)
pairing. step-dad Johnny x step-daughter female reader
genre. arrest me daddy officer AU, cop Johnny, angst, M/F, pwp, one shot
warnings. age gap(y/n: 18, Johnny: 38), y/n is manipulative(and has extremely unhealthy coping mechanisms), multiple hook ups, death mentioned, y/n dealing with the loss of her mother by acting out, peeping, boxer-brief snatching, side characters: Jaemin Jeno Jungwoo, this gets pretty nasty. smut warnings under cut. minors DNI.
word count. 16k+
now playing. Agora Hills//Doja Cat
smut warnings. dom/sub dynamics, masturbation, stepcest, loss of virginity, heavy on size difference, daddy kink/use of ‘daddy’ + pet names, dry(wet) humping, fingering, face fucking, face slapping, squirting, possessiveness, overstimulation, spitting, choking, handcuff use, multiple orgasms, sex in public, rough sex, unprotected sex, breeding, etc
—————————————-
There’s no denying how hard this year has been, each day feels more and more like a battle. It’s hard to wake up, hard to put a brush through your hair, hard to bother with putting away your laundry. Little things really, they feel meaningless, everything generally feels meaningless.
“Hey, it’s already half past noon and you haven’t eaten anything yet.”
Concern rings between each word, dragging your body to the side to blink your eyes open and peer over to where he stands. There’s those same eyes that droop at the corners, never bright or optimistic anymore. They used to hold a softness, love, adoration, never toward you romantically, but still enough to make you feel special.
You are special to him though, that’s why he’s concerned. Even when he has to look away, maybe because you remind him too much of her. Of the woman you both loved more than anything, the loss you both continue to suffer from.
“Not hungry.” You mutter, pulling your blanket on tighter as soft fabric rubs against your hips and sets off warmth between your chest.
He sighs, head knocking on the door frame. “You know, I won’t let you deteriorate, your mom would—“
“Mom’s not here.” You say, cutting him off. A small pang of guilt hits when he nods solemnly, chin tucked to his chest without looking at you again.
“Fine. Have it your way.” Letting go of your door handle, he shrugs and shakes his head. “I’ll leave my card and cash out on the counter if you change your mind and get hungry later. Have to get ready for work, I’ll be home late so don’t.. worry about me.”
You’d be lying if you said you won’t worry. You always worry. Always fear the thought of receiving a late night call that he didn’t make it, that he’s on his deathbed hooked up to life support leaving his fate in your hands. Instead you nod and barely raise your fingers out of your blanket to wave goodbye.
It’s always the same routine when he has these night shifts. Pester you about eating, about getting some fresh air, doing something productive with your free vacation time, just being a damn nuisance you don’t want to deal with. You have to get through it, act like you don’t care too much, keep up a calm facade despite the anxious way your heart begins to race.
It’s been weeks of planning, trying to figure out what it would take to make your sweet nurturing step-father finally snap.
Jaemin: Swing by to get you tonight around 10?
Yeah. That should be late enough, and from the clues you’ve gathered, you know exactly where to go.
The sound of the shower turning on from the master bedroom alerts your ears, jumping out of bed and into your slippers to tiptoe down the hall and twist your mom’s key through the lock to allow yourself in. It’s lucky you’d found it mixed in with a bunch of her items, making it easy to pocket and hide in case you’d ever need it.
He’s already inside of the shower by the time you’ve rounded the corner and crouched down by the connected bathroom door. It gets steamy, but the glass still clears up enough to take in his long muscular legs, sleek lean back, thick arms curling up to run shampoo through his hair.
It’s different today, having to cover your mouth to hold in your gasp when you spot him leaned back against the wall. His eyes are shut tight, sharp eyebrows furrowed together frustratedly, arm jerking furiously. The fog clears up along the glass with each hit of water, making the view of his large hand stroking up and down his length vividly clear.
To your surprise, he never brings anyone home. Many would consider him to be a young handsome eligible bachelor still, a good career, attractive face, fit body. You certainly wouldn’t be shocked if he decided to start dating again. The sad truth is you often find your step-father still mourning the loss you both took. He cries through the night, wakes up with swollen eyes and dark circles, he plays it off and puts on a smile for your sake but his pain is evident.
It’s hard to watch him struggle. The way he pulls on his cock seems painful, writing his internal guilt with each whimper and groan that squeezes from his tucked in lips. He doesn’t want you to hear him, he doesn’t want to experience pleasure through his pain. Doesn't think he deserves it.
You wonder what brought this on, what set him off enough to finally break the silent celibacy pact you assume he’s held himself accountable to. Today’s different from the way he barely touches his cock whenever washing suds off his body, scrubbing himself clean in such a robotic way without any expression.
Sliding onto your knees, you have to adjust the oversized boxers hanging from your hips, rolling them up tighter to squeeze around your middle. He hasn’t mentioned anything about his underwear going missing yet, hasn’t had the nerve to question you about the different items from his closet that he can’t recall seeing for weeks now. It’d be too weird to suspect his step-daughter of invading his privacy and personal belongings while at work.
Johnny’s always been too nice to ever think you could do anything wrong. Not you, not with the angelic side of yourself you grace him with. It’s almost too easy messing with him, rolling around on his freshly washed sheets when he leaves for work, spraying his cologne on your pillows to feel closer to him.
He won’t say anything even if he notices a familiar print of his underwear peeking out from your pajama bottoms.
“Shit.” You murmur, pushing back on your legs to inconspicuously crawl your way out before he can exit the bathroom. Too fast to sneak out to take in the evident failure pulling his cheeks down into a frown.
Johnny’s lonely, he’s real lonely, and you can fix that. You want to fix that.
A knock rasps down your door minutes later, halting your hand from traveling past the waistband of your stolen boxers after burrowing back inside of your bed. “I’ll be heading out now, if you need anything I’m only a phone call away.”
Staying silent for a moment, you decide to get up and listen at the door for his breathing. Keeping your movements light enough to not make the floor creak as you make your way over. His breath comes out evenly, fingers tapping a couple of times along the doorbed before he lets out a quiet sigh and turns to leave.
It’s better for him to believe that you went back to sleep, lessen any possible suspicion, cover your ass if you ever fuck up and accidentally leave evidence. He’s too good at his job.
The cop car stays parked across the street from your house most days when he’s working a lot, not helping the ongoing joke you hear about how your step-dad does that on purpose to ward away the men who want to date you. For the most part it worked too, living by his rules to focus on your education throughout high school and not waste your time fucking around with teenage boys.
Times have changed though, and with this year long break you both agreed would be best for your mental health, you have gotten bored.
Beyond bored.
Sneaking over to your window, you watch as he takes one last glance back at the house before getting inside of the car. He’s handsome as ever in that stupid pig uniform, the halster cinching his waist in further really accentuating his build.
Jaemin: Your step-dad’s not roaming the streets tonight by chance?
Watching his car drive off you reply with an angel emoji, exclaiming how excited you are to get out.
“I’ll see you later Johnny.”
—————————————-
“Didn’t think you’d ever agree to going out with me.” Jaemin grins from ear to ear. Rounding his car to get the passenger door opened for you.
“Don’t be so modest, you know I’m into you.” You say flirtatiously, settling into the car seat. His eyebrows raise, grabbing onto the roof of the car to duck his head inside.
“You seem to be into a lot of guys.”
That’s true, you can’t lie about that. Opting to offer him a coy smile, you shrug and tap the tip of his nose. “And you’re at the top of that list.”
Scrunching his nose back at you, he nods acceptingly. “Not only that, but your dad—“
“Step dad.” You’re fast to correct, clearing your throat. “He’s not my father.”
“Right, that, well..” Jaemin stands up straight, cooling his hands off on his jeans from the hot car roof. “Isn’t he like, a cop?”
“Yeah, so what?”
“Thought you told Haechan last semester that you’re not allowed to date..” walking around, he gets into the driver seat and reaches over to buckle your seatbelt. “Didn’t you say that’s his rule? Your step dad?”
“You sure do have a lot of questions, Jaemin.”
“I’m not trying to piss off a cop.” He chuckles, gripping onto the steering wheel. “Silly if you ask me. You’re 18, he can’t expect you to stay abstinent until marriage.”
“Well he does.”
“Oh.”
“And I don’t care.” Leaning over the middle, you grip onto his thigh. “Right now all I care about is you and me.”
Jaemin’s mouth falls open with a hidden smile, eyeing your hand inching up his thigh. “Someone’s eager.”
“Let’s go to Agora Hills.”
“What??” Snapping his head up, he stares at you with blown out wide eyes. “Oh I thought—“
“You thought wrong, let’s go.”
Slowly nodding, he releases the brake to pull out of your street. Shaking off his shock as he pulls onto the freeway toward the notorious spot up in the mountains. “Well, if I had known, I wouldn't have made a reservation for us at that new Italian pizza spot.”
“Not really hungry,” you shrug, gripping at his inner thigh. “Not for food anyway.”
Jaemin’s eyebrows raise all the way up, a grin spreading on his face as he steps down on the gas pedal and switches to the fast lane. “Don’t think I’ve ever made it out here this fast.”
Directing him to park off in the more secluded area, you smirk and push your way past him to the backseat. “Let’s not waste time.” You say with a wink over your shoulder at him. “I’m so wet already.”
“Fuck.” He practically howls, using the door to get out and climb into the backseat with you. “You really weren’t playing with me with all those slutty pictures, huh?”
“Want you so much.” You say huskily, climbing onto his lap before he can fully even settle into the backseat. “All I can think about.”
Jaemin’s state of shock can’t leave him fast enough, groping his palms up and down your sides. He grabs onto your hips and squeezes, hissing between his teeth. “Fuck, you’re so sexy. Been waiting for you to be legal ever since I saw you last summer at my little bro’s party.”
That’s when it all started. Last summer when Jisung invited you to his graduation party. The group of guys you’d come to know as his older brother and college friends couldn’t take their perverse eyes off of you. The appeal of your innocence had struck a nerve for every single one of them, desperate to stay in touch with the forbidden fruit they knew better than to dare to take a bite of.
“You’ve been so good,” you hum, grabbing onto his bare biceps. Gripping the smooth soft skin between your digits. “So patient, waiting for me like such a good boy.”
Jaemin’s head falls back against the seat, front teeth exposed between his plump pink lips. Thick eyelashes fanning heavily over his lust-filled gaze. “You still a virgin?” He questions curiously, sliding his hands beneath your baggy t-shirt. “Never heard a virgin talk like that..”
“I watch a lot of porn.” You say cheekily, running the tip of your nose against his. “And I’m so fucking horny.”
Jaemin’s throat bobs, hips jerking up under yours. “Fuck, you’re seriously something.”
To reaffirm that, you roll your hips down against his. Building up a fast and hard rhythm against his crotch. “Didn’t Jisung tell you about me? I gave him his first blow job.”
Letting out a howling laugh, he cups over your bra and squeezes your breasts. “Of course you did, that little fucker can’t believe he never mentioned it.”
“So greedy, wanted to keep me allll to himself.” You moan, wrapping around his built shoulders. “Fuck, that feels good.” Grinding down your hips faster, you fall into a rapid bouncing motion. Assisted by his large palms clutching your hips to rock you up and down his clothed hard-on even faster.
“Bet you can cum like this, nasty slut.” He pants between his teeth. Hammering his hips up to meet your middle with each slam against his cock. “Fuck you’re really dripping baby.”
The flimsy pajama shorts you snuck out in hardly do anything to conceal the thin material of underwear plastered to your cunt. Soaked through and pressed directly against Jaemin’s sweats as your shorts move to one side and fully expose your panties. “Making a mess all over me.”
Biting down hard on your lip, you nod against his forehead and swallow down throaty whimpers. “More more, gimme more!”
Jaemin slinks down into the backseat more, wrapping his muscular arms around your waist. He pulls you to his chest and rams his hips up faster. The sound of your covered bodies slamming down on each other fills the car between groans and stuck inhales of breath. Digging your nails into his shoulders as the friction builds and rubs your underwear against your clit painfully. “Ah! T-that hurts!” You whine, not stopping your lower half from fucking dowm against the material of his drenched sweats. “You’re so big!”
“Fuck, ah yeah.” He grunts, reaching lower to bury his hands inside the back of your shorts and grab onto your ass. “G-gonna fill you up so fucking good baby. Make you take my cock like a real whore.”
“Ah, please please.” Scrabbling at his chest, you circle your hips down with rabid need. Pressing your clothed clit right against his throbbing length to reach your orgasm. Sucking at his bottom lip, he concentrates on rolling you up and down on his size. Jerking up each time your pulse against his cock.
“Fuck yeah baby, just like that.” He nearly drools, shoving your shirt up with one hand to place his palm against your stomach. “Faster!”
Getting his other hand on your lower back, he ruts you against him vigorously. Mouth hung open as pre-cum drips out of his cock and makes his boxers sticky.
“Ah!” Falling against him, you tremble and wrap your weak hold onto his thick biceps. “I’m—I’m—“
Jaemin sits the both of you up straight again, jabbing his cock between your ruined panties. “Good fucking whore.”
“Fuck, ahh!”
Shaky hands run up his shoulders to his neck. Latching your lips onto his for a kiss that turns hungry within seconds. Seeking out each other’s taste through your release spilling out onto his groin. He licks at every crevice, sucking your tongue to steal your moan as he continues to fuck your clothed cunt after you’ve finished.
“S’too—“
“Shut the fuck up.” He spits, more aggressive as he slaps his hands down on your ass and throws you down against his cock. “Make me cum, virgin slut.”
Lights blare into the rearview window followed by the sound of rubble and rocks under rubber tires coming to a stop nearby. The bang of a door and heavy footsteps play between the sounds of your heavy panting, mixed moans and tongues gliding against each other.
“Shit babe, stop. It’s the cops.” He says in a breathy panic, gripping onto your hips with extra strength to stop your grinding. “Fuck, what the fuck.”
“Open up.” A tap tap tap hits against the backseat window, freezing both of you in place. “Police.”
“Shit, shit, oh my God.” Shoving you off, he quickly readjusts his hardened length. Swiping a palm down his face to clean off the sweat dripping down from his hairline. Sitting up and clearing his throat, he rolls down the window with a shaky smile. “Officer.”
A familiar face pops into view, bending down with his arms rested against the car window. “Do you know that you’re on private prop—“
“Hi daddy.”
Johnny’s face goes near white when you sit up behind Jaemin’s broad frame. Speech cut off by his loosened jaw hanging his mouth open.
“Ah, fuck.” Jaemin whispers under his breath, scratching at his neck nervously. “Officer, I’m sorry, I didn’t see any signs.. it’s so dark out here.”
“Get out of the car.” Johnny points at you, directing you toward the door at your side. “Now.”
“Okay.” Hiding a smile, you press to Jaemin’s side to leave a kiss against his ear. “Sorry about this, I’ll text you.”
Too afraid to speak, he nudges you away and frantically nods. “Just go, oh my god.”
“Ugh.” Rolling your eyes, you slide out of the backseat to be greeted by your step-father half-sat on the trunk of Jaemin’s car. “Didn’t know you parole the hills too.”
“I don’t normally.” He says much too calmly for your liking. “Officer that usually does has been on leave because his wife just gave birth. That’s why I’ve been working more this last week.”
“Oh.” You knew that, of course. Having stood in the hallway sneakily while he went over his extra hours with his lead. “I had no idea this was private property.”
Pushing off the car, he hooks onto your elbow. “Let’s get you home.”
“What?” Ripping out of his hold, you shove him away. “I’m on a date.”
“It’s 1 in the morning.” Deep lines resembling whiskers appear on his cheeks, sucking at the backs of his teeth. “Now,” opening up the passenger seat door to his cop car, he tips his chin toward you. “Get in.”
“Such bullshit.” You mutter, plopping into the cop car petulantly.
“Language.” Slamming the door shut, he rounds to the driver side, tapping the drunk of Jaemin’s car. “Get out of here boy.”
“Yes sir!” He calls out, running back to the front of the car to get his engine warmed up.
“Pussy.” You scoff to yourself, turning your torso to glare at your step-father. “Thanks for ruining my night.”
“Last I checked, you’re not even supposed to be out this late.” Reaching over to click in your seatbelt, he begins to drive off. “Since when do you sneak out past curfew? Is this something new I should look forward to now that you’re an adult?”
Johnny’s jaw twitches, tapping along the steering wheel without taking his eyes off the road. Tension between the passenger and driver seat grows thicker by the second, forcing your hands to ball up into tight fists.
“Are you mad at me?” You ask quietly, keeping your gaze lowered to your balled up hands.
“No, I’m not mad.” He sighs, gripping the wheel tighter. “Is that your boyfriend?”
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
“Oh.” Clearing his throat, he hums and squints. “Are you dating him?”
“No.”
“Right.”
“You’re mad.”
“I’m not mad.” He huffs, exiting the freeway that takes you back home. “You snuck out behind my back to meet some guy that isn’t your boyfriend, why would I be mad.”
“Well you have no right to be mad, you’re not my fath—“
“I’m not your father.” Johnny finishes for you, pulling into the same empty spot on the street out in front of your house where he always parks the cop car when he’s working overtime. “But I am your legal guardian.”
“I’m eighteen.”
“I’m aware, you haven’t gone a day without reminding me.” He smiles softly, turning to face you. “Listen, I’m happy to see you out of your room, living life. Even if it means finding you at Agora Hills of all places with some boy.”
“He’s 21.” You mention to annoy him, unable to catch any sign of change in his calm expression.
“Yes, I saw his drivers license.” He informs, tight-lipped. “You still live under my roof and therefore must adhere to my rules.”
“I don’t want to.” Crossing your arms over your chest, you slump into the passenger seat. “Your rules are dated and overbearing.”
“Okay, which of my rules would you like to negotiate to change?”
“A ten o’clock curfew is ridiculous, I’m not a child anymore Johnny.”
“It is a bit late right now.” Motioning to the time on the car's dash, he runs a hand through his hair. A anxious habit of tugging at the ends. “How about midnight?”
“That’s still too early.”
“That’s two extra hours.” He says firmly. “And if you’re going to be out at these late hours with 21 year old men, I’d like to meet them first. For your safety, I’m not asking for anything outlandish here.”
“I already told you, he’s just some guy I’m fucking.” Sitting up, you make sure to emphasize the end of your sentence. “Well, would be fucking right now if you hadn’t interrupted.”
Johnny visibly swallows, tucking his bottom lip under the top row of his teeth to not respond abruptly with any anger. “You can’t expect me to be a virgin until I get married, Johnny. I’m an adult now, I have to go out and explore! It’s part of growing up!”
“Midnight, and no later. If you plan to stay out any later, I at least want you to come back home where I know you’re safe. And if I’ve already met him, he can even come over.”
“To my room?”
“With the door open.”
“Come on man!” Smacking the compartment between you, you lean closer to his face. “Would you rather me run out to Agora Hills every night behind your back to get railed in the backseat of some guy’s car? Or at least come home where you know my whereabouts?”
Pursing his lips tight, he leans away from you. “I have to get back to work, please, don’t sneak out again. We’ll discuss this tomorrow.”
Giving him a look that could kill, you grab onto the door handle to exit.
“By the way,” he looks over you much too fast. Turning away, showing off his perfect sharp jawline. “You can do much better than some 21 year old loser that’s going to take you out to Agora Hills of all places.”
“Whatever.” Shoving the door open with too much force, you kick it shut like a total brat. “You’re ruining my life!” Storming to the front door, you glare at him over your shoulder for one more look.
Fuck he always looks so criminally good in his stupid uniform. Another night with your vibrator attached to your clit for hours until you go near blind would have to get you through this, again.
Flipping him off, you slam the door shut behind you and make the walk of shame to your bedroom with clenched thighs. Arguing with your step-dad always managed to get your blood boiling, heat churning through your stomach. He never argues back, never raises his voice at you, hardly ever even displays much of a reaction.
It’s sickening how watching this big hunk of an authoritarian man act so weak with you always gets you going. Crawling back to your bed, you search for the dildo you purchased using his account to ensure he’d see it in his purchase history. Johnny never said anything, he never does, practically allows you to walk all over him. Especially ever since your mother passed away. As fucked up as it is to take advantage of his kind heart, you can’t feel bad.
Turning to face your window, you wait for the sound of his engine to exit the street. Sighing to yourself as the buzz between your thighs gets louder and you turn on the highest setting.
You’re going to need it after that.
—————————————-
“So what is this? I thought you were dating Jaemin.”
“Dating?” You question with raised eyebrows full of sarcasm.
“You know what I mean..” he remarks equally as sarcastically. Leaning against the hood of his car. His baby really.
Everyone knows about Jeno’s legendary sports car that he spends hours working on. The exterior beams shinier than any cheek highlighter could ever with the amount of time he spends waxing it. Endless summers of working odd jobs that hired underage teenagers with a permit for some chump change finally garnered him enough to set down a decently size down payment.
The ridiculous sports car zooming around your town always seemed to piss off the local police, most specifically your step-father.
“I want you to take me to Agora Hills.” You say cheerfully, tapping at his thick arms crossed over his chest.
“Pfft, I don’t go up there.”
“Why not?” You pout, making him roll his eyes.
“So your daddy can prowl my ass and slap me with a ticket? No thanks.” Jeno scoffs, grabbing your wrists before you’re able to smack his biceps again.
“Don’t call him that.” Unable to tug yourself out of his grip, you lean in closer to his chest. “He’s my step-dad.”
“Narc is what he is, I swear that dick head pulls me over at least every other week.” Jeno grunts, tugging your arms down to pull you closer to him, chest to chest. “We can go to my place, sneak through the back. My parents won’t know you’re there.”
“Nooo, I wanna go to Agora Hills.” You whine, continuing to pout with a stomp of your foot. “Wanna suck you off in the backseat of your fuck-mobile.”
Jeno’s eyebrow raises, half-laughing with a curious glint in his gaze. “Never heard that one before.”
“You’ve also never given me a taste before.” With a cunning smirk, you press in closer. Teasing his chin with a flick of your tongue. “Stop being so selfish.”
“What’s with you and that spot? I don’t get the big deal.”
“Every girl wants to lose their virginity up at Agora Hills.”
Jeno seems awestruck for a moment, nudging his nose against your cheek. “You’re a virgin?”
“Did Jaemin tell you that I’m not?”
A pleased smirk slowly creeps onto his face, lowering his gaze to your lips. “If every girl dreams of getting fucked out there, I can only imagine how often you dream about getting fucked in the backseat of my car.”
“Let’s go.”
—————————————-
“I like your lips.” Jeno leans back against his seat after parking. Slowly dragging his gaze from your eyes to your lip gloss lathered mouth. “Bet they’d look really nice, all swollen and red, wrapped up pretty around my cock.”
Smoothing a hand down his stomach, he runs his bony long digits down the zipper of his jeans. “Do you like sucking cock?”
He’s already hard, rubbing over the bulge that’s pressed against his crotch. Lazily teasing at himself as you check him out and your eyes bounce over his lower half. “I haven’t.. done it too much.”
“Pftt..” his tongue clicks, tracing the outline of his member along the material of his pants. “That’s a shame.. I like girls with experience.”
“I like to learn.” You say abruptly, dropping your chin shyly. “I may not be experienced but you can teach me how to do whatever you like..”
“Are you asking me to train you?” He asks smuggly, smirking to one side. “Train you on how to suck my cock?”
“If that’s what you want..”
Jeno seems pleased by your response, eyes bouncing and sparkling with intrigue. Seemingly enjoying how embarrassed and humiliated you’ve become from his questions. “Show me your tits.” He says flatly, leaning deeper into his seat.
Anything Jeno says to you right now has to be done. You’re here with a mission and it’s to make sure you get caught, even if it means taking off your top. Throwing it aside, you sit up on the passenger seat on your knees. Dragging your hands up your stomach to cup under your bra-clad breasts. Shoving your cleavage up together, bouncing your perky mounds of fat for his enjoyment.
Jeno reaches out to land a slap on one of your tits, humming and moving your hand out of his way to cradle one of your breasts. Sweeping his thumb down, he presses roughly against your nipple. Smoothing his fingers over your chest to squeeze and pinch the hardened bud through the fabric of your bra. “You have great tits.” He notes, all while focused on your chest. His other hand reaches out so that he can massage both of your breasts. “Nice and big.”
It’s hot in his car now, arching your back forward for him to enjoy your chest more. Nipples tugged at, lowering the cups of your bra underneath your tits so that he can properly flick and squeeze at them. Underwear grows uncomfortably damp pressed against your core, gripping your thighs together harshly to stop yourself from bursting out a tunnel of hot liquid. “Like how I play with your pretty titties?”
“Uh-huh..” you mutter quietly, looking down at how large and veiny his hands look while squeezing your fleshy fat. Digging the tips of his fingers into your tits as if you’re some type of stress ball.
“Bet they’d look so good milking my cock.” He hisses between his teeth. “You wet for me now, pretty girl?”
“Y-yes,” you nod eagerly. Throat dry, voice shaky to hold in your moans. He continues to pinch, rolling your nipples between his fingers.
“Bet your wet pussy’s throbbing, aching to feel my cock.” He says, hands dropping back to his crotch. Inhales of air fight your dry throat, watching as his hand drags down his zipper once again. Tented large against his tight jeans, he sits up straight and slowly begins to free himself; sucking in a deep breath as he gingerly pulls his cock out.
Heat flushes down your chest, struggling to take your next breath. He strokes once, twice, three times to spread around the precum gathered at his slit. Veiny cock pulsating against his palm with each drag, the glistening head so flushed it looks near red.
“You’re really.. fucking big.” You drool, spit pooled all around your tongue. “I always thought you would be, with how cocky you are.”
“You talk too much, you know that?” Jeno scoffs, flicking your chin. “Show me that mouth is useful for something more than yapping.” Pinching your chin, he shoves his pants down lower and settles back with his hands behind his head. “You wanted to suck my dick? Start sucking, and be careful to not use your teeth.”
Dropping your jaw open with a thrilled nod, you bend over to get your mouth positioned above his erect cock. Drooling for a taste with your tongue lolled out over your bottom lip.
Gripping around the base of his size, he slides his other hand into the back of your hair and grips tightly. “Keep those pretty lips open nice and wide for me baby. Lay your cheek down on my thigh like this.” Pulling on your hair, he angles your face to the side so that he can watch the tip of his dick drag along your upper lip. Smearing your glittering lip gloss all over his already shiny cockhead.
“You look so fucking cute like this.” He grins, biting back a groan when you start to flick your tongue out against his slit. “Wanna see you take every inch.”
The angles not the best for your neck, especially positioned in his car to not jab your stomach with his shift. You open wide for him to begin feeding his length inside of your mouth. Eyebrows furrowing once he gets a few inches in and you feel a painful stretch pull at your lips. Pushing in past the gagging sounds that reverberate around him, he aids the glide with a press of his hand to the back of your neck. “Come on pretty, take all of it.”
Already taking in loud deep breaths through his nose, he grits his teeth and releases the base of his size. Sliding the last few inches in despite how you choke and tighten up around him. It feels too good to stop now, fucking spit out past your mouth with his thick cock filling you up. The tip meeting his palm laid out on the back of your neck. “Sucking dick like a pornstar.” He rasps. Deep tone falling even lower, husky and thick with horny lust.
Gathering a bundle of your hair, he pushes against your stuffed mouth once more. Testing out how much your gag reflex can handle with half of his dick already resting heavy in the back of your throat. The extra gurgle of spit that spills out around him allows his hips to speed up and thrust in and out. Using the extra lubrication to thrust again and again and again. Holding you down roughly as a throaty deep groan exits his lips and you suffocate on his cock. Lurching around the massive intrusion, flailing your hands and slapping his thighs.
“Holy fuck that’s so good!” Jeno cries out. Lifting his hips off of the car seat as he bottoms out inside of your mouth once again. Tears spring free from your eyes, panting heavily through your nose. The biggest cock you’ve ever swallowed fucks your throat hard enough to leave it’s shape behind. The heady scent of tangy ball sweat and soap fills your head, forgetting that you’re here to piss off your step-father as your hair gets pulled at roughly once more.
Wet gagging fills up the car, the sound of skin clashing against skin emitting with the forceful thrusts he delivers. Cum-filled sack slapped against your cheek each time further solidifying what a whore you are right now.
Jeno throws his head back letting out another howled moan. Holding your head down and grinding his cock in your throat with circling hips. Agonizing seconds go on like minutes, and all you can do is swallow and heave around him. Making the biggest mess of drool and tears beneath his ass. The resistance to gag again becomes weaker the longer he keeps you there, nose pressed up against the stubble of pubic hair left from shaving a few days ago.
Finally hauling your mouth off pours out an obscene amount of spit. Drenching his thighs and groin with tons of it as you continue to hold in your gag and cough, gasping for air with wide teary eyes. “J-Jeno—“
“What a fucking good cock slut you are.” He sneers, brutally grasping your cheeks. His fingers dig into the hollows, shaking your head side to side. “Tried to lie to me, sucking dick like it’s oxygen.” He scoffs, releasing your cheeks with a wet slap to your face. Not too hard but enough to shock you, turn your neck to one side. “If I’d known you could take cock like this..”
He whistles, cupping your face with both hands to look at him. “Look so pretty like this.” Picking the wads of spit clinging to your chin, his palm rubs all over your face. Mascara stained down your cheeks, lips dried of gloss and swollen from painfully stretching out.
Smacking at your cheek again, he pulls your bottom lip open for your tongue to hang out. Kissing at the backs of his teeth as he presses down the center of your tongue. “Fucking nasty.”
Without another second to waste, he shoves your head back down and kicks his hips up. Lining his cock up to your mouth with ease, no guided direction needed. Fucking deep into your mouth until he hits the back of your throat again. Swallowing around his cock sliding through your wet mouth, pulsating on your tongue, trapping your air to the point of feeling lightheaded. His hands slap down on the back of your head, pushing his hips up with violent thrusts.
“Throat taking me so fucking good.” Jeno’s teeth grind. Hips falling back down to the seat with wet splats only to thrusts even rougher into your mouth. Heavy sack slapping your face harder than before. “Slutty throat, just another hole for me to use and ruin.”
A loud broken groan leads to him pulling you off, smacking his fat wet cock down on your cheek. Shoving your messed up hair out of your face to begin dragging his long girth down the center of your nose.
Lights streak through the car window, an alarm ripping you both out of your horny daze. Jerking through your spine as you cough under his length and squint up at the bright’s illuminating his face.
“Fuck. Shit. Get off of me!” Jeno curses, shoving himself away from you with his hands pushing against the backseat. “I fucking knew I shouldn’t have come up here with you.”
Your step-dad’s timing is really something. Not that you planned everything perfectly to make sure he always finds you before anything can actually escalate and go too far between you and whatever guy you’ve managed to lure up here.
No, that would be diabolical wouldn’t it? Your step-father would be the last to believe that any of this could possibly be on purpose. He loves you too much to believe negatively of you. That’s what eats away at you sometimes. He’s just too damn nice to you to the point that it drives you insane. Because you want him—no, you need him to be anything but nice to you. Your mother would have scolded him for spoiling you all of the time, for accepting what an insolent brat you’ve been ever since her funeral.
Knock knock knock taps at the backseat window on Jeno’s side. You ignore it and continue to search for your top, knowing this is likely where your night ends.
“It’s your dad.” He says under his breath, pushing down the window button to open. “Officer.”
“Lee.” He sounds calm and easy as usual. Nothing out of the ordinary, no tension or frustration there. It’s infuriating, he should sound fucking pissed. His head pops into view, leaning over the car window with a soft smile and nod in your direction. “Hello, again.”
“Daddy.” You smile coquettishly. Wiping your chin off with the back of your hand and leaning over Jeno to get closer to him. “Is there a problem, officer?”
“Get out of the car.” Johnny says deeply. Tone falling into a serious one before tapping the hood of the vehicle and pulling away to stand up straight. “Right now.”
Jeno snickers quietly, nodding his chin for you to exit his car. “Whatever.” You mumble, using extra force to slam his backseat door shut.
“It’s 1am, you know?” Your step-father asks, eyes dragging down your frame. His eyebrows furrowed together as he takes in how crumpled and strewn your t-shirt looks. How obscenely tiny and tight your shorts are. How he’s never seen your eyes and lips this swollen before. The light makeup you had on earlier ruined and smeared down your cheeks. “What did I tell you about coming out here?”
“Oh come on, you want me to be the only freak in this town that never visits Agora Hills? So I can be ostracized by every girl when I start school up again? What if I want to join a sorority?!” You complain, huffing past him with a roll of your eyes. “God, you seriously expect me to be known as some damn loser too depressed to ever go out ever since my mom died.”
Johnny grabs a hold of your arm before you reach the passenger door of his vehicle, spinning you around to face him. “Is that what this is about? You’re worried the other kids in school will judge you for being.. sad?”
“I’m not a kid!” Shouting at him, you stomp angrily. Further proving how immature and volatile you still handle your emotions. “I’m eighteen!!”
Taking a deep breath and a step back, he nods and releases your arm. “Yes, I know.” His eyebrows wrinkle together, rubbing at his cheeks hard enough to drag the aged skin down. Pulling at his face with a frustrated sigh. “I’m doing my best.”
“You think you are? You think this is your best?” You poke at him, stepping into his space to look up at him. Having to crane your neck to keep direct eye contact. “You can’t even bring yourself to punish me daddy.”
Johnny staggers for a moment, cheeks hallowed, droopy eyes darkening for a flash of a second.
“I—I don’t want to punish you.” He whispers. Dropping his hands down to his hips defeatedly. “You’ve been through enough.”
“Then maybe you’re not fit to be a father. Certainly not my father.” You say snidely, turning your back to him to get inside of his cop car.
Johnny watches you fold your arms over your chest, slamming your back into the passenger seat. Shivering at the sound of the car door rattling shut from the forceful impact you use to shut it. If he was stronger, he’d be able to say something, to do something about your behavior.
Instead he opens the passenger door to open up the glove compartment to retrieve a pack of tissues. He won’t ask anything, he won’t even speculate or allow himself to imagine what could have ruined your mascara like this. He dabs your cheeks clean instead, leaving the rest of the tissues on your lap for you to use before buckling your seatbelt in and rounding the car to drive you home.
You’re right, he’s not fit to be a father, especially not a widowed one who's been deprived of the touch of another for months now. He can’t even figure out how to deal with his own morbid thoughts, the sad empty black hole that’s formed in his heart. How is he supposed to do what’s best for you? And what is best for you exactly...
Can’t be the thoughts he shoves aside that keep him up at night. The quiet things he envisions when his eyes finally fall shut. The way he buries his face into your basket of dirty laundry, spends extra time folding everything up for you just so he can vividly imagine what you’d look like in all of the different pairs of underwear he washed for you.
He’s only surprised the spirit of your mother hasn’t stricken him to suffer an eternity in purgatory yet..
—————————————-
“Oh, you’re not working today?”
Johnny’s head lifts from the couch, his sleepy eyes blinking a few times before unblurring the image of you in nothing but his boxers and a baggy old tshirt of his.
“I’m off today.” He mutters quietly, tight-lipped as he looks you over again. “Where did you find that?”
Making your way to the couch, you pull on the hem of his shirt. Scrunching up the worn down fabric between your fingers and tugging. “Oh this? I think it got mixed in with my laundry a few months back.” With a smile you plop down right next to him. Avoiding the massive empty space on the couch you could have taken up, instead nestling into his side. “What should we watch?”
He frowns, not wanting to question why you’re wearing a pair of his tattered checkered print boxers. The same way your mother often would in the past, along with his old band shirts..
You probably just miss her is all. He misses her too, every hour and minute of his life. Not that seeing you resemble her almost down to a tea makes him feel any better, only consumed by guilt as he steals another look at you.
“Dad?” You speak up, wrapping around his arm to alert him. “You’re zoning out again.”
Again, yes. He does that a lot these days.
“Sorry, uhm, your choice sweetie. Been working so much these days I’m not even sure what’s new on tv.”
“Good thing for you, all I do is watch TV.” You grin, cuddling into his side more. Draping your head and neck along his shoulder.
Johnny’s used to it, you’ve always been rather touchy with him. He doesn’t mind it at all, always took pride in how comfortable you felt around him. He’d never want to make you feel any other way. More than honored to be referred to as your dad when you introduce him, he hums and smiles. Leaning back against the couch cushion with his half shut eyes. “Nothing too scary, I don’t want you staying up having nightmares all night again.”
“Oh come onnnn dad I was like thirteen!!” You whine, slapping his chest. “Besides, you’d let me sleep with you if I got scared, right? Just like back then.” You add with a sneaking smile, nuzzling in even closer.
Your mom had seemed slightly annoyed back then when you came into their room crying during the middle of the night. You’d climbed between them in bed and curled into Johnny’s front, wrapping your small arms around him. He’d never known what it was like to be a father until he had the chance to help raise you. Even now he’s not sure he’s really doing this right..
Ignoring how warm and small you feel pressed to his side, he clears his throat.
“That boy last night..” he says softly, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “Do you like this one?”
A playful glint in your gaze finds his look of confusion. Directing the remote toward his face, you smile. “I like something about him a whole lot, more than any other boy.”
“Is he—this one, your boyfriend?”
“None of them are my boyfriend.” Turning toward him to face him better, you lay a hand against his chest. “None of them really deserve to be my boyfriend.”
It’s normal to experiment and make experiences to learn what you like, what you’re looking for. He has to bite his tongue to keep that to himself. It’s not actually any of his business who you end up forming a relationship with; not unless that boy wants to make it his business. Pursing his lips, he nods firmly, changing his focus back to the tv to drop this topic.
“Besides, Jaemin, Jeno.. they’re not exactly my type.” You add with a flirty tone. “Like Lana sang, I got a taste for men that’s older.”
Johnny’s spine freezes at that, not wanting to engage you anymore. “Should probably find something to watch before it gets too late.”
“What about you daddy?” You practically squeak, crawling your digits up his chest. “You haven’t tried to date at all since mom passed. I wouldn’t judge you for dating someone younger.. I know men have needs.”
Taking a quick hold of your hand, he has to control himself from crushing your palm in his. A serious gaze silently warning you before clearing his throat. “I really have no interest in dating anyone else. Losing your mother has been one of the biggest most unforeseeable losses I’ve ever experienced. No one will ever match up to her for me.”
A look of disappointment paints across your face, turning your lips downward as you slowly nod. “No one?”
“No one.” Johnny says between gritted teeth, releasing your hand. “Let’s watch something already, alright? I need to catch up on sleep tonight.”
The same solemn pout stays on your face even after finding a movie to watch. Some cheesy romcom that Johnny can’t help to think your mom would have loved, you always would spend your weekends watching them together with her. Now you only have him, it’s only normal that you’re acting up more than usual. You always were a good girl, never disobeyed your mother’s rules..
He can’t let you walk down the wrong path, it’s not what she would have wanted for you. Getting caught in the backseat of random boys cars up at damn Agora Hills of all places. She’d be let down, likely punish you and ban your phone privileges for weeks..
He can’t do that to you though. Not when he’s hurting this much and knows inside of his heart that you can only be hurting so much more.
At least he’ll be able to keep an eye on you if you do sneak out there again anytime soon. The one privilege he has over your life as a cop on duty, to at least stop you from trespassing and breaking any laws.
These thoughts riddle him more and more to the point of exhaustion. Lightly snoring halfway into the movie before the lead actors can even share their first kiss. The sound of his huffed breaths between soft snores catches your ear, gingerly picking your head up from his shoulder to look at him.
He’s the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen. High sculpted cheekbones, beautiful long brown eyes, his straight nose and jawline sharp enough to cut through glass. And his lips, his thick pouty lips that linger through your mind day and night. They tease and taunt each time he talks to you, whether he’s tucking in his bottom lip or speaking with extra emphasis on his juicy pout. You can’t stop dreaming about what they’d feel like against yours, how soft and yet powerful a kiss from your step-dad could be..
Hovering your fingers near the tendrils of hair that have fallen over his forehead, you slowly ease them back. Stroking through his scalp softly much like your mother used to when Johnny would come home late from working, exhausted and resting on her lap, lulled to sleep so easily.
He can’t really believe that no one will ever peak his curiosity or make his heart pound again? He’s too young to live so miserably.. to never love again. A push in the right direction is all he needs, someone to set off alarms inside of him that have stayed dormant for months. If anyone can make him happy again, it’s you.
You can fulfill that emptiness in his chest, bring butterflies back to life in his stomach, give him a sense of worth to take care of somebody else..
He stirs after a bit, blinking slowly, reaching to wipe drool away from the corners of his lips. Tired droopy eyes failing to stay open when he sees you still by him. “Fell asleep, sorry.”
“It’s okay, you’re tired. We can go to bed.”
“Sorry.” He mouths again, groaning as he sits up and you latch onto his arm to help him stand.
“You don’t have to apologize for being tired. You’ve been working really late.”
“Mmm… we both have been up too late these days, haven’t we?” Johnny stops at his bedroom door. Leaning against the wall with a stern raised eyebrow. “Should I expect to catch you out past curfew again?”
“Curfew doesn’t matter anymore daddy.” You smile sweetly, poking his chest. “I’m an adult now.”
He frowns for only a second, looking away as a deep exhausted sigh exits his mouth. “Might be corny to hear, but you’ll always be a little sweet girl to me.”
He isn’t watching to see the sheer look of disappointment dragging your smile away. Having to bite down on your teeth to contain your annoyance, you force an amused smirk. “Your little girl? Will I always be yours?”
Johnny’s tired sleep-ridden gaze trails upward, blinking away from your lips to your sparkling awaiting eyes. Pressing the side of his head to the door, he shrugs and nods. “Of course sweetie, for as long as you’ll need me. I’ll forever be indebted to you.”
It’s not exactly what you want to hear, but it’s enough. Reaching for his waist, you slink your arms through to wrap around him. Smashing your cheek to his chest for a warm hug. “You mean everything to me daddy, you’re the only reason I’m still here.”
There’s more implication behind your words than he’d prefer to fully understand. Floating hands hover over your back, slowly shutting his eyes as he succumbs and squeezes you close to himself. Maybe this is why he lets you get away with everything, your mom would berate him for it. Say that he was far too easy on you, all it took was one cute little smile from you and he’d be wrapped around your finger. He just wanted to be a good father figure for you, that’s all..
“I’ve been having nightmares again.” You whisper, rubbing your face against his chest. “Like before..”
“Like before?”
After your mother had passed, he heard you crying in the middle of the night. Pushing your cracked door fully open to find you curled up in bed shaking and wracked by sobs..
Johnny had held you and tried to comfort you as you wailed, screamed your cries and clutched at him desperately. It was the hardest few weeks he ever had to endure. Staying up for countless hours to make sure you eventually would get some sleep. You shared with him eventually that you’d see her everytime you tried to sleep. Met with the visual of your mother whenever your eyes would fall shut.
He didn’t know what to do back then other than hold you and repeat that everything would be okay, he’d always be here for you.
“Can I sleep with you?” You ask against his chest, sliding your hands down to his waist. Johnny shivers under your touch, batting his eyes open.
“In my room?..”
“Please daddy, I don’t want to be alone tonight. I feel.. lonely.”
Between fighting off how exhausted he is and the pathetic sad look on your face, he sighs. Losing the ability to keep his back straight and shoulders broad. He rubs up and down your spine and nods. “I can sleep on the floor.”
The look on your face morphs in less than a second, from distressed to furious. You push away, quickly wiping at your wet eyes. “Actually, it’s okay. I’m being dramatic.”
“Hu—what?” Johnny grabs at the door frame to stand up straight. Shaking his head to be more alert.
“You need to sleep good tonight, you have work tomorrow.” Tight lipped, you force a smile and take a few steps back. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
—————————————-
“What are you doing here?” Wiping a cloth down his chest, the tall blond cleans the stains of oil and dirt. Mixing his sweat with the mess that working on his car has created on his long torso. He squints at you standing by the end of his driveway, the sun going down behind you making it harder for him to really get a good look at you.
Such a shame that he can’t appreciate the cute summer dress you planned just for today, how you spent over an hour doing your hair, the new lipgloss you used to make your lips shine and pop.
“Didn’t your daddy tell you to stay away from me?” Jungwoo smirks, tossing the used towel on top of the hood of his car.
“Wanted to see your pretty car, you’ve been working so hard on it all week.” You say flirtatiously, moving closer to hug the driver door. Leaned against his classic Cadillac like a vixen straight out of a model car show.
“My pretty car,” he chuckles, stretching his arms up to show off how defined his stomach muscles are. “You mean my pristine mint condition 1959 series 62 cherry red Cadillac?”
“Yeah, that.” Rolling your eyes with a smile, you round the car to poke his navel. “When are you taking me out?”
“You’re hilarious.” Jungwoo shoves your hand away, nodding his chin to your house down the street. “What? Daddy’s on duty or something?”
“Who cares.”
“Last time he saw you around me, he waved handcuffs in my face and told me to keep my distance if I don’t want to wake up with my car impounded.” Grabbing onto your wrist, lifts an eyebrow. “You might have some corruption kink, but no pussy is worth losing my car over.”
“I’d give you more than just my pussy.” You lie, scooting back to press your ass against the hood of his car. “Come on, he’s out of town. Now’s probably one of our only chances.”
Jungwoo grins, stroking up your lotioned smooth calves to your knees. “When’s he come back?”
“Late tomorrow, but we can’t do anything at my place.. he has security cameras.”
“That’s not a problem.” Jungwoo shrugs, pushing your thighs open. “That why you came over here all pretty? Smelling all nice for me.”
“We can go out to the hills, I know you just moved out here but it’s pretty common.” Pushing your thighs open more, you gather your dress to show off your pretty baby pink lace panties. Uncomfortable as hell, but they spark his interests, caressing up your inner thighs softly with a hum. “Everyone goes out to Agora to fuck..”
“Yeah? To fuck?”
Your step-dad had complained about how rundown your neighborhood had become in the last few years. Allowing any old trash to move in. He certainly was not a fan of your newest neighbor Jungwoo Kim, rolling down the street with his obnoxiously loud engine revving up loud enough to shake each house he drove by. Johnny wouldn’t stop complaining about him for the rest of that day, throwing out comments to you that it’d be best if you avoid ‘men like that’. If only he had any idea that all you wanted after that was to do the complete opposite.
“Fine, I gotta take a quick shower.” Licking at his lips, he swipes a thumb over your clothed slit. “Come by to get you in an hour.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
—————————————-
“So, Agora Hills? I thought shit like this only existed in stupid sitcoms.” Jungwoo laughs, setting his car in park at the top of the hill overlooking the entire town.
That’s the point, someone decided to claim this large space of land up on this hill as a place to lose your virginity. To enter adulthood, to check off the right of passage that changes one from sexually inexperienced to a lush. It’s been known as the spot for as long as you can remember, that’s the only reason Johnny’s even aware of what takes place up here.
He used to venture with different girls up to Agora Hills throughout his high school and college years. He can’t really blame you for doing the same, it’s simply the way things go here.
“It’s nice up here.” You smile, peering out of the front windshield at the city lights that burn bright from this high. The greenery that creates more shadows in the dark. The starry sky dimly lighting up the area around you. “The energies different, right?”
Jungwoo bites on his bottom lip, leaning over the front seat of his car with ease since the old model has nothing to stop him from getting closer to you. He drapes an arm around your shoulder, presses in to drag his nose down your cheek. “It’d be nicer if we were fucking.”
Plush lips find yours, using his tongue right away to lick between and garner access inside of your mouth. Freshly washed up after working on his car all day, he wafts the aroma of body wash and clean soap smell around you. Minty tongue still carrying traces of mouthwash. Jungwoo’s not interested in wasting time or getting to know you. Only in one way really.
Johnny was right to tell you to keep your distance from men like him. That’s why you had to go for him. In less than a minute he’s already swiping between your thighs, cupping over your lace covered mound. Shoving his tongue deep inside of your mouth with more confidence and aggression than Jaemin and Jeno had initially.
He’s older(25 to be exact), Johnny hates that. His car is absurdly noisy, Johnny hates that. He blasts music loud enough to wake up the entire neighborhood early in the morning every weekend, Johnny really fucking hates that.
“Jungwoo,” you moan softly, pushing at his chest. “S-slow down a little.”
“Pft, come on. Don’t give me that shit, you’ve been teasing me for weeks.” He mutters against your lips, biting on your lower one to let you know how annoyed he is.
“Please, I’m—I’m a virgin.” You whisper feebly.
“What??” Jungwoo pulls back, ragged and out of breath. Lips all pink and swollen from kissing you roughly. “You’ve got to be shitting me.”
“N-no, my step-dad’s really protective..”
“The cop.”
“Mhmm..”
Shaking off an annoyed laugh, he rubs the top of your thigh closest to him. “I hate using condoms. Not gonna fuck you with one your first time either if you’re expecting some kind of princess treatment from me.”
“I don’t..”
But you also have no intention to actually lose your virginity in the front seat of his Cadillac. Not when you know your step-father started his rounds a little over an hour ago. From your estimation, he’ll be on his way up the hill in no less than 15-20 minutes. If finding you with the neighbor he can’t fucking stand doesn’t break him, then maybe it’s time to give up.
“You ever touch yourself?” Jungwoo asks, interrupting your thoughts. Gripping the hem of your dress before dragging it up and off of your body. He reaches between your legs again, rushing to scoop your cunt with the entirety of his large palm. Digging the heel of it against your covered clit. “Like this?”
“Unghh..” you nod slowly, grinding against the pressure.
“Tell me more.” Jungwoo’s nose flicks against your chin. Applying pressure down on your clit. “What turns you on? I want you dripping wet.”
Your step-father, Johnny. Unbuttoning his uniform. Sat stressed out at the kitchen island with his head hung between his shoulders, eyebrows furrowed together. The way he looks fresh out of the shower when he doesn’t know that you’re watching him. Droplets of water cling to his smooth bare skin, the tattoo on his bicep rippling with each movement, the pink blotches sprinkled across his back and chest from using boiling hot water.
Johnny’s always on your mind when you touch yourself. He’s the first thing you see when you shut your eyes to fall asleep. He’s the first face you envision when you wake up and rub your eyes, sighing and whimpering to yourself. How he could be one room away and still so far drove you crazier by the minute. Creating more outlandish scenarios in your head as hours went by throughout your day and he’d be hard at work protecting the streets.
It may seem sick to some but your step-father has always been a man you could admire. He never failed you, even now when he should punish you, lock you up with no access to your phone- he doesn’t. He loves you too much to make you suffer anymore than you already have. Do you deserve his patience?
Jungwoo’s teeth nip at your cheek, shoving his hand inside of your panties when you fail to answer with a dazed look in your eyes.
“Y-you,” you mumble, stroking down his forearm to his wrist. “Older guys like you.”
It’s not a complete lie. Most of your wet dreams consisted of your step-father reminding you of how much older he is than you. How much bigger he is than you. How wrong this is. What a disappointment your mother would deem you. She’d be so upset with you, exploiting yourself like this just for your step-fathers attention. She didn’t raise you to be this way, but she’s not here anymore. You only have Johnny now, his presence and existence in your life. Nothing more, nothing less.
But you need all of him. You want it all.
“Slut.” Jungwoo sucks at his bottom lip, pinching your clit between two of his digits. “Only eighteen?”
“Mhm..”
A sadistic smile grows on his face, sliding two digits lower between your folds. “And a virgin, fuck. I can’t remember the last time I fucked a virgin.”
and he still won’t remember after this, judging by the time.. your step-dad will be here soon. At least you hope he will be…
Tips of rough calloused fingers tap against your tight hole, sucking in a deep breath as he adds a little pressure. “Fuck.. you’re so small.”
Licking down your cheek, he nibbles his way to your jawline. Teeth dragging and layering kisses down to your chin. “Messy as fuck, virgin cunt soiling through my car I bet. Wanna eat you out, bet you taste so good.”
Blood rushes to your ears, firmly shutting your eyes and slumping deeper into his passenger seat. “Anyone ever ate out your tight pussy before, angel?”
Jungwoo’s tongue flicks out, lapping up your chin to your mouth. Swallowing the moaned muffled ‘no’ you let out.
“I get to do the honors.” He trails off, prodding at your sensitive hole before sliding his hand free. “Come here.” Grabbing onto your hips, he manhandles you into a better position. Back leaned against the passenger door, cupping under your thigh with a large hand to pull you apart. “Open your pretty cunt for me just like this.” He huffs breathily, gently placing the back of your calf onto the seat. Obscenely sprawled out with your other leg on the car’s floor still.
Not bothering to pull off your panties, he shoves them to one side. Quietly whistling between his pink lips, he drags a thumb down the center of your parted open folds. “Fuck, you’re really..” his head shakes, bending in closer to gawk at your cunt up close. The dim light entering the car makes your arousal appear more as a glossy coat on your thighs. Glistening under the bright lit moonlight. “So wet. Can probably make you squirt so easily.”
Squirt? You think you mutter, dragging the back of your head against the car window.
A gruff sound leaves his lips, lowering his mouth to your pussy without another second to waste. His tongue pokes out, gently tracing between your wet folds. Teasing side to side until your hips squirm and he lets out a pleased rumble. “Fuck, you taste better than a dream.” He gasps, eyes rolling up to meet yours from the angle he’s at.
Dropping his mouth back down, he keeps his gaze fixated on your. Sharp eyes lazily hooded, pressing firmer licks between your pussy folds. Rolling the muscle of his tongue up and over your swollen clit. He teases there until your toes curl, reaching your hands out toward him helplessly in search of something to grab onto.
The thick width of his tongue drags down, laps at your entrance. Testing the stretch with the tip of his tongue pushing inside with a vibrating groan that has you reaching for his hair.
It’s too much after edging yourself for hours to the thought of your step-father today. After sneaking into his bedroom as he showered to lick at his gun, sucking at it before shoving the barrel inside of your hole while Johnny jerked himself off in the shower.
“F-fuck, I’m—I’m cu—“
Gravel. Tires skidding. A harsh pull of a car brake. Bright lights and a loud clash from a door slamming. He’s here.
The knock at Jungwoo’s car window is incessant, rapid and angry. Ripping himself off of you, he loudly curses, smearing the back of his hand across his lips before yelling for your step-father to stop out of fear that he’ll shatter the glass. “God fucking damnit.”
Rolling it down manually with renowned speed and a frightful gaze, he locks eyes with Johnny’s thinned out furious ones. Sinking down and reaching inside of the car to grab his neck with one large hand. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing boy?!”
Jungwoo squeals, eyes bulging out of shock and fear. He slaps at Johnny’s wrist, trying to call for your help.
“Daddy! Let go of him!” You shriek, grabbing your dress to hold against yourself. Trembling at the sight of your step-father in this state. He’s never looked so angry, terrifying really..
“Get out of this car. Right now.” He says sternly, burning into you with a laser focused look in his eyes. “Now.”
His demanding tone has you racing to reach the passenger door, not even bothering to get your dress back on before running over to where he still stands hunched over with an unyielding chokehold on Jungwoo’s throat. “Daddy, please! Please stop! Let go of him!”
Wrapping your arms around his bicep, you try to pull. Failing to make him budge and losing your footing when he stands up abruptly. “You, right there.” He points to the hood of the car, reaching for his back pocket to retrieve a pair of handcuffs.
“I told you I’d be on your ass if you ever came near my daughter.” He sneers at Jungwoo, grabbing his arm by the car door. He drags the younger’s wrist to the seatbelt, latching the handcuff shut to trap him to his driver seat. “And you.”
Turning toward you, he points to the hood again. Grabbing your shoulders to spin you around and bend you over, chest pressed flat to the car hood.
“Daddy!” You squeak, breath caught in your throat.
“Don’t.” He growls, slotting his hips to your bottom to keep you in place. Using one large powerful hand to lock your wrists together against your lower back. The feeling of his big warm body sends your mind into a frenzy, pressing your cheek down on the car as a whimper slips free and you meet Jungwoo’s petrified gaze through the windshield. “What did I tell you about the Kim boy down the street?” Johnny asks, controlling the anger in his tone.
“T-to—stay—away from h-him,” you whine, slamming your eyes shut. “T-too old for me.”
“But you like them older, right?” Weight drops down on your back. Heavy and crushing, pressing his hot mouth to your ear. “You love to disobey me, why is that?”
“N-no daddy..”
“Don’t fucking lie to me.” He bites, teeth snapping down loudly. The dominant tone melting you down, struggling to breathe with his chest on your back, the full weight of his groin shoved against your ass. “What happened to being a good little girl?”
“I-I—I—“ speechless is what you are. Not processing one single clear thought under him. The cool car hood encasing night air keeps you sane enough to stop losing your mind to the heat taking over your body. This isn’t really happening, your step-father.. he’d never act this way. Unless you finally succeeded, you got your wish, you broke him down..
“Tell me the truth, you’ve been a bad girl.” His free hand snakes to your throat. Knocking the breath out of your chest as his palm lays flat and everything around you reminds you of how much fucking bigger he is than you. How much older, stronger, more powerful he is. It’s every horny dream that’s ever interrupted your sleep, but so real, so fucking real. “That’s what you want to be now? Daddy’s bad little girl.”
Oh fuck. This can’t be really happening.
“N-no, daddy’s good girl.” You cry, turning your head enough to look at him from the corner of your eye. “Your g-good girl.”
“It’s my fault. I gave you too much. Let you think you could do whatever the fuck you wanted without any repercussions.” The bridge of his nose presses to your cheekbone. Electric eyes filled with flames locked on yours. “Need to put you back in your place, don’t I sweetheart?”
Tears dribble from your eyes beyond your comprehension. Falling down a dark hole without escape, you nod slowly, whimpering through your choked sobs. “Daddy.”
“I know, baby.” Soft lips drag down your cheek, firmly pressing a kiss at the corner of your mouth.
Everything about him feels so dizzying, knowing your head would roll off of your neck if he wasn’t choking your throat right now. His fingers trail up to your chin, turning your face to look at Jungwoo’s large eyes reflected in the windshield. “You’re better than this.”
“I’m not, I’m bad. I need to be fixed.. corrected.” You manage to whine, innocently blinking over your shoulder without a care in the world for the man you manipulated into this situation. They’ve all been pawns in your game, your step-father included. All to get what your heart and body desires. “Punish me daddy!”
Johnny’s soft eyes darken in an instant, coated by a shadowed film covering his iris. His nostrils flare, laying all of his large size on top of you. “Why are you asking this of me?”
“B-because, I love you.” You sob, bouncing your lower half against him. “I love you daddy, so much!”
The last bit of fight he had left exits his lips with his next breath. Slowly dropping his eyes shut as he stays still and lets the sensation of your ass grinding back on his cock wash over him. He tried to deny, tried to ignore, berated himself for allowing such indecent thoughts about his step-daughter to enter his mind.
Ever since your behavior became more concerning, he had to set up hidden cameras around the house. He was worried, that’s all. Worried of what harm you could cause yourself when left alone with your sadness and thoughts. He wanted to tell you, he did, but it was only for your own good. And for the most part he felt at ease while he patrolled and left you alone at home. You mostly slept, laid around, occasionally made yourself food. He saw when you’d sneak around.. steal his clothing, but that never bothered him.
Today though, what he saw today, only an hour ago as he fast forwarded through the footage documented today. He saw you on his bed, the one he shared with your mother once. Tracing your fingers along his work uniform, picking up his gun to pose with in the mirror. All normal, until it wasn’t.
“What did you do with my gun?” He asks slowly, shoving your hair away to one side. “Tell me.”
Color drains from your face, wide eyes peering up at him. “I—I—“
“Why did you do it?” He continues to question, having to swallow to calm his dry throat. “What’s gotten into you sweetie? What do I need to do to fix this? To fix you?”
What has gotten into you? Depression, malignant fantasies, emptiness. Really, that's it, emptiness. Every part of you feels so empty, so hollow, unalive. The only time a shred of life shows itself is when you see Johnny, when you’re with him, when he smiles at you, when he touches you, when he wraps you up in his large arms. “Because I love you.”
One solo tear trails down his cheek, slowly nodding as he pulls you up and wraps around your waist from behind. Soft full lips press to your cheek, the lips you crave and lose your mind over. Safety, that’s what he is. Your step-father, he’s the refuge you pray for, the comfort you can’t find anywhere no matter how hard you search. “If you love me, you’ll stop doing this.” His voice cracks, shaking as he finds your watery eyes.
“And if you love me,” your lip trembles, teeth chattering. “You’ll love me.”
If there is a God, he’ll never forgive him.
Strong working hands, dangerous hands that have handled firearms for years, that have locked up wrong doers, that have nurtured and fought hard for you; strong hands squeeze your waist. Slowly turning you around to face him. “I want to take you home.”
“No daddy, I want you, here.”
Here at Agora Hills, the exact place you have been luring him to night after night. “Here?” He questions almost pathetically, rubbing down your bare stomach to the frilly material of your panties. His eyes slide over to Jungwoo’s near haunted face, jaw hung open so wide he can see all the way to the back of his throat where his tonsils hang. Surely he’ll tell everyone in the neighborhood about what he’s witnessed here tonight. May as well make it a good story.
“Here.” Johnny repeats more assured, nodding to the hood of your neighbor’s ridiculous car. “Lift your legs up sweetie.”
The backseat of his patrol vehicle had definitely been the layout for your fantasy, skittish as you allow him to mount you onto Jungwoo’s car and the hood gives under your weight. Denting your knees in place, echoing a pitiful cry from inside of the car. Johnny’s hold around your stomach tightens, resting your back to his chest so that your legs can bend open in front of the windshield. “You let this idiot touch you baby?”
“Y-yes..” you admit, flushing from head to toe as you meet your neighbor’s miserable expression. He really really had pissed off your daddy..
“You let him touch you here?” Longer fingers drag across the top of your lace panties. Biting down on his lip with his chin perched over your shoulder. He slaps your trembling inner thighs, reaching lower to drag a thumb down the seam of your panties stretched against labia folds. “Let anyone touch you, don’t you?”
“N-no daddy..”
“Don’t lie to me.” Johnny’s usual soft spoken voice is long gone. Falling into a deeper and raspier speech as he skirts around your panties. Tapping the tip of his nose against your cheek. “No more, you let anyone touch you again and daddy will make you regret it.”
Fuck. Shivers explode down your spine, frantically nodding as he suddenly rips your soaked underwear to one side. Exposing your blood engorged cunt to the cool night air, pornographically spread open on the hood of some classic automobile. “N-never!”
“That’s right.” He hisses, eyebrows furrowed, leaning into your back more until you fold in and can’t lift your neck. Forced into a nearly pretzeled position with no choice but to watch as his large hand lowers past your navel and he splits open your pussy folds. “Shaved yourself all pretty, I know that’s not for him.”
Erupting with a fresh batch of tears, you struggle to shake your head. Rambling a spatter of ‘nonono’ because nothing has ever been for anyone else. Only for your step-father, only for him.
It’s beyond painful how desperate you sound, losing your sight through wads of tears that won’t stop filling up your eyes. “What should I do baby? Your panties are so wet.” He tsks, tugging the worn down material bunched up in his fist even harder. Ripping a sound of lace shredding through the night air. “Want me to touch your little pussy? To use your cunt in front of your random boy toy?”
“Daddy, p-please!” He’s driving you crazy. Slamming your socked feet against the car hood, you let out the most feral of moans. Jerking your hips up with a shout
“Want me to touch you here?” Johnny murmurs, sounding on the brink of insanity himself. Tiptoeing two fingers down your cunt to your opening, spewing slick out onto his digits. “To shove them deep inside of you?”
A moment of cold silence rinses down on you, craning your neck back against his chest to look at him. Nuzzling and nodding against his throat, you whimper feebly, placing a scolding kiss on his Adam’s apple. “Please daddy, p-please fuck me.”
Shit, that’s not what Johnny expected to ever hear. The beating of his heart goes wild, throbbing its way up to his brain, filling his ears full of static noise. He’s panting heavily, winding down to your entrance in search of what can only be wonderland. Fully hunched over you, he watches with intent as the pads of his digits push against the tightness of your hole. Hissing between his teeth at the resistance he’s met with.
There’s no way you’re still this tight if you really let the neighbor boy fuck you. How tiny can his dick be? Johnny grimaces, pushing in past the snap of skin that sucks around his fingers. Propelling spikes of adrenaline and hunger through him that scream to go harder, faster, deeper. The bend in your knees goes limp, kicking out against the car windshield, garnering another shattered cry from inside of the vehicle.
Entranced by how you squeeze around two of his digits, your step-father stabs them deeper inside. Thrusting them in harder only to hear your cunts wet echoes splatter around his hand onto the hood of Jungwoo’s car.
“Daddy!” Exhaling something between a moan and a cry, you pant heavily under his upper body. Convulsing and shaking into him, forced to take the two long fingers jabbing in and out of you at a rapid speed. He flicks at your swollen clit, in disbelief at the way your pussy hasn’t stopped spasming since he started fucking past your holes squeeze.
“You're so close, princess.” He huffs raggedly. Snapping his fingers in and out at a blinding pace. Pumping more wetness to stream out onto the hood of the car. The teasing flicks at your clit turn furious. Pinching your stuff bud between his thumb and pointer finger, tweak your raging nerves into a frenzy. Shots of electricity burn through your limbs, curling your toes in with a scream out to the night sky.
It’s hot and blinding, punching your chest with cold all at once. The force of your orgasm pushes against his fingers, halting Johnny’s motions as a powerful rush of clear liquid rips out around his digits and your pussy walls grip around him. The thought of his cock filling you up next has him pulling out. Slapping his hand down to rub at your clit furiously, concentrated and focused as he watches in awe. The squirting stream shoots out harder, raining down on the car’s windshield.
“Holy shit.” Jungwoo cries out from inside, struggling to breathe.
“Knew you could do it.” Your step-father praises, kissing the side of your sweaty forehead. “My good girl.”
Johnny does the unthinkable, swiping your drenched cunt before lifting his hand up, gaze on yours with his tongue lapping at his fingers. “Tastes so good.”
Just like heaven.
“D-daddy?” You sniffle, pouting your lips out toward him with the largest saddest eyes he’s ever seen. Bloodshot, cheeks stained with tears the same exact way they were when your mother died.
A kiss, a kiss is what you beg for. A kiss from your daddy.
And Johnny, how could he ever deny you? How can he stop himself from scooping you up, wrapping your trembling thighs around his waist. Cupping your ass as he leans in and gives you one of the softest lightest kisses, leaving one on the tip of your cold nose after. He presses for more, a firmer kiss, longer contact. Rubbing your ass between his greedy hands, asking for entrance to your sinful mouth with his tongue.
Denying you has never been an option.
“D-daddy,” you cry between hot kisses. Overwhelmed by his dominant mouth, how easily he takes control. The suck around your tongue and lips ready to burst from how swollen they are. “Please, please fuck me. Want you to be my first, please.”
“First?” Stepping back, he looks over your naive expression. Your flushed cheeks, your beating chest, your hands trembling against your thighs. “First.”
You’re a virgin, an eighteen year old virgin. His step-daughter, pure, untouched, barely legal. Begging him to be your first.
If anyone should be your first, it’s him. He practically raised you, has the best interest in mind for you. He loves you.
“Show me.” Licking at his lips, he swallows hard. Throat clamoring for some saliva. “Show me your virgin pussy.”
And you do, you listen so well. Almost too perfectly as you place your feet flat to the car and grab your knees to hold them open. Your pretty lace panties ruined, blood-filled cunt pulsating at him. It’s a sight he hasn’t seen in years, virgin pussy. Hairless in all the right places, hole barely visible because of how fucking tight you are.
It’s wrong, he’s so big it’s going to hurt you so much. “Daddy.” But the way you whine for him. How you proudly sit there pumping your cunt at him. You need to be punished.
He wants to take you home, fuck you right on the same bed he took your mother on for years. Bend you into every position, make you scream all night until the neighbors make a fuss and turn their lights on at 3am. Nosey and curious, whispering about a murder taking place.
Wrapping you back up in his arms, he spares Jungwoo’s sobbing face one last look. Nodding with a smirk before turning around to his vehicle. At least he’d taken the SUV for patrol tonight, unbeknownst to himself of what would soon unravel.
“You deserve the world baby.” He whispers, unlatching the back door open to climb inside with you. It’s spacious enough, thankfully, because despite how badly he needs to get you home, he needs to know how you feel even more. Fighting with each step to his cop car with his swollen sack, he’s proud of himself for not turning you over and taking you on that asshole’s car. “And daddy’s going to give it to you.”
Writhing against his back seat, you lay flat and unhook your bra, throwing it to the ground. “You’re so so pure.” He almost growls, unbuckling the large metal buckle of his belt. Blazed eyes dragging down your body, your pinched waist, round hips, panties barely holding on for life. “So beautiful and good to me.” He nods, shaking his shoulders free from his holster. Working to unbutton his long sleeved uniform shirt. “So good for me, my angel.”
Johnny means every word. You’ve never done wrong in his eyes, always his sweet little girl. Even now you’re giving him everything, all of you. An angel sent to take care of him through his misery.
Getting down to his constricting work slacks, he situates himself between your thighs. Having to hunched in due to the shirt ceiling height. The touch of your flesh beneath his fingertips heats up like a furnace. “Your pussy, your virgin cunt..”
Eyes drunk on nothing but need, lust, desire, love stare up at him. Continuously rolling tears down your glowing cheeks. You don’t even know what you’re begging for, never having had sex.. you just want him.
“Who’s pussy is this?” He asks brazenly, surprising himself. Caressing the insides of your knees and he peers down at your cunt that seems to have a heartbeat of its own. “Who’s is it, baby girl?”
“Your!” You cough, falling into a mewl. Moaning lewdly as he nods above you, broad and large. Slinking his hands to his zipper to slowly glide down.
“Yeah,” Johnny sucks in a deep breath, nodding slowly. Shoving his pants and briefs down past the middle of his thighs. “After I fuck this pussy, no one elses but mine.”
“Daddy’s pussy.” You moan, legs spread out for him. Grabbing your panties to tug at roughly. “Only yours.”
A glob of wet arousal pulses from your hole as you say it, and it’s enough to drop his body forward. To circle the base of his cock with one of his sweaty hands, eyes on yours. The way your cunt drips, he can only hope you’ll feel nothing but pleasure. Slapping the thick girth of his meat against your wet pussy, he hisses. Having to hold himself up with one arm bracketed by your head so that he can look down at his length covering your center. “This might hurt, baby.”
“P-please.” Make it hurt. That’s all that Johnny can hear. Your pleads for punishment, for pain, for something to heal and fill up your empty soul.
The head of his cock feels the true warmth of your cunt, your tight suffocating grip, wrapping around him like a perfect cock sleeve.
And it’s right, it’s so right. Rolling his eyes shut, groaning as he feeds you more of his size despite your cries. The scrabbling small hands scratching his chest, your clinking teeth and sniffles. He fits the entirety of his cock inside of your pussy. Mesmerized by how fucking wet you are, wettest cunt he’s ever fucked.
Sinking into the hilt, he meets obstruction. Mouth hung open panting heavily on top of you. He can’t take his eyes off of it, how his cock disappears inside of you, how connected you both are right now. Creeping an angry groan out of him, curling up his spine as his balls smack against your rim.
“My angel, my baby.” He pants harshly. Using his flexed abdomen muscles to hold himself up and slide both of his hands beneath your neck. “Look at us, baby.”
Johnny’s strong hands hold your head up off of the backseat, folding you in as they wrap around your neck and squeeze. The crushing weight on your throat chokes your breath, wide eyed as you look down at what he wants you to see. Fucking into you with brutal determination when he finds your gaze where he wants it to be. His glossy wet cock, pummeling in and out of you as if you’re a pro at this.
Your cunts just too good, sucking around him like nothing ever has. He draws in and out, plunging in madly. Pulling out to the tip only to slam back in and make you take, shape you to take his cock.
Creamy wetness splurges out around his size with each stroke. Spilling out beneath your ass, filling the vehicle with a splattering sound of your arousal. The smack of his balls on your ass, hips hitting the backs of your thighs. Coughed and gurgled moans, scratching at his forearms the more he tightens around your neck. “Daddy!”
Fuckfuckfuck, you’re driving him insane. Bonkers, off the walls, throwing his head back releasing the loudest pleasured moans. Each one making your pussy squeeze and grip around him tighter. He moans louder and louder, reminding you with each that you’re the best, so good and amazing for him.
“Da-daddy—is—is—“ you splutter, jerked up and down under the force of his hips jackhammering into you.
Johnny’s wild eyes meet yours, loosening on your throat to let you breathe easily. His pace never falters, pushing his cock through your kissing cunt. Through your delicious maddening heat, through the milking grip trying to make him cum. “Baby wants it even deeper, huh?”
“I-is—“ you mumble incoherently, squeezing your eyes to blink away tears. Fluttering open to find his. “M-my pussy—better t-than mommy’s?”
FUCK.
Why would you say that?! Why would you ask him that?! Johnny can’t stop his hips from stuttering, slamming in and stilling. Filling your cunt with a hot load of cum, sticky and wet. Too much for your tiny little hole to handle. He’s never lost himself like this, never emptied his balls so fast. Never came too quickly.
“What’re you doing to me.” He whimpers, falling flat and heavy against your chest. Ragged breaths punch out of his lungs, practically vibrating on top of you. His cock twitching inside of your squeezing hole, not softening up for anything.
“Say that again.” He sighs, reaching to cup your face. Nose shoved against yours. “Say that again for me baby.”
The sad desperate tone he asks you in has your pussy squeezing around the wet gush of sperm and slick filling you up along with his fat cock. Losing your strength to hold your eyes open, you slowly fade. Heavy lidded and croaking. “I-is my pussy b-better than mommy’s?”
Johnny’s bulging biceps cage your head. Pressing a searing hot kiss on your saliva drenched lips. “So much better, my fucking angel. My fucking sweet angel with he best pussy, can’t get enough of you. Will never be enough, need all of you.”
Licking at the drool covering your chin and neck, he begins to grind his hips in circles. Stretching your cock to take him again and again. For as long as he can keep it up for you, he’ll keep fucking you. Fuck all the pain away with more punishment.
“Daddy’s gonna mold your tight little pussy.” He grunts, sitting up to haul your legs up. Laying your limp limbs against your chest with no struggle. “So flexible.”
Of course you are, a young eighteen year old girl, good for nothing but taking cock. “Want you only taking my cock from now on, no one else’s.”
“Y-yes daddy.” You whisper, throat burning from screaming and moaning. Face scrunched up trying to hold back your urge to cum again, too swollen between your thighs to squeeze any harder. “Only yours.”
“Such a good pussy. So fucking soft and wet.” Johnny thrusts in slowly a few times. Catching his breath before slamming down, circling his thick arms around your shoulders to completely fold you in. Suffocated by his masculine body wash scent filling your senses, his deep grunts, the deep set lines taking over his forehead with every exerted movement.
Furious thrusts only build and build to a violent speed, aided by the endless stream of slick lubricating his cock. He can’t stop fucking you, can’t make himself stop.
“Daddy, daddy!” It’s all you can say, repeat and scream. Too lost in your pleasure, the numbness coursing through you, your blacked out mind that needed this. Needed to feel whole to feel empty again, to relax your brain and scorch endless amounts of endorphins through your system.
“Come on princess, let me feel how good that pussy cums.” He growls, chasing your orgasm for you. Grunting and fucking through your pulsing heat, hot slick pussy walls gripping him so tight.
“A-ahh!” The drag of his length pauses, fluttering his eyes open. Letting out a cracked howl as you cum. Tossing his head back to fully take in how clench around him akin to a chokehold. Wailing and whimpering beneath him as streams of hot clear liquid shoot onto his pelvis. Too limp and out of it to break free from his position even through your writhing. Your step-father suffers through it, the best suffering he’s ever experienced. Biting down on his lip with a deep breath as he curses and fucks through the last seconds of your climax.
He tries to stave off his release, tries to stop himself from finishing too fast again, but you’re just too good. Never letting his dick breathe with the way you milk his cock.
“Fuck shit, f—fuck. G-gonna cum.” He says between clenched teeth. Groaning from the back of his throat, digging his fingers into your thighs hard enough to bruise. “Take all of my cum baby, it’s all for you.”
All of it for you, from now on he won’t go a day without spilling himself empty inside of your pussy. Fucking his seed deep inside, painting your cervix without any concern of you getting pregnant. You belong to him now.
“Fuck that’s it.” He grits, groaning loudly with shaking thighs barely holding him up. Cock sheathed deep inside of you painting your cervix in strings of white hot cum. “Take all of it, my good girl.”
His good girl, you hum quietly. Using your last bit of energy to clamp your cunt around him and snatch every last bit of cum for your greedy hole.
The night feels endless in the backseat of his patrol car atop of Agora Hills. Just the two of you, lost in each other’s bodies, fucking your pain and anger away.
“Let’s get you home.” He finally finds the willpower to say after filling you up two more times. Finding a blanket in the trunk to wrap around you. “It’s too late, way past your curfew.”
The comment brings a lazy smile to both of your faces. Curling into his side for comfort.
“Daddy?”
“Yes, princess.” He sighs, rubbing at his forehead to ease whatever anxious thoughts attempt to enter now that the haze of lust and sex has cooled down.
“I love you.”
Johnny frowns, turning to cuddle against your side. His forehead presses against your shoulder, placing a light kiss on your collarbone. “Daddy loves you more.”
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Since the booping has returned, reblog if it's okay to spam you with boops!
I wanna be polite and not spam random people without permission , ,
Hello everyone. I know I've been in hiatus for a while but i guess im back now and im currently back to accepting commissions. I am embarrassed to come forward like this but I really need to coms rn because I just found out that I'm pregnant, and right now I am not capable to raising a child because i am simply not ready. I just took a test right now and it came out positive and idk what to do.
My country does not allow abortion and it is in no way part of our shitty healthcare so i am left with the option to buy expensive abortion pills online and I simply can't afford it right now. So please if any one of ya'll are interested, send me a commission on the link below and i'm more than happy to do it for you! I need to save around 65 dollars for this :'(
And please i know this is a direct consequence of my own actions, but i am trying to make this right so please spare me the lecture over safe sex and maybe reblog my post so it can reach to more people. Thank you. Tips are also appreciated but comms are encouraged more so u can get something out of it too. Thank you
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